Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Oh. My. Fucking. God. You will never guess who just walked in.”

“Sorry, what?” Izuku was looking at the seating chart, readying himself to take on another table. “If it’s not the Fab Five, Ochako, you know I don’t care.”

“Ok one, Queer Eye finished filming months ago, you gay disaster, and two, let’s hope there isn’t a major villain attack tonight.”

“What does that have to do with ––”

Izuku clapped a hand over his mouth to hold back a shriek.

“Exactly.” Uraraka grinned triumphantly. “Lucky bastards are about to get the Midoriya special treatment. Remember to sell the specials. Now go.”

Japan’s most preeminent pro hero power couple was seated in his section, at his best table, at the buzziest restauraunt in Tokyo, and he, Izuku motherfucking Midoriya, was going to serve them.

Izuku took a deep breath and let a huge smile split across his face.

“Good evening gentlemen, and welcome to Amica. My name is Midoriya, and it is such an honor to be serving you.”

He bubbled with excitement.

“Is it a special occasion?”

Underneath his professional exterior, Izuku was geeking the fuck out. He knew exactly what the occasion was, after all.

“It is,” said Todoroki Shouto. He was even more strikingly beautiful in person than on TV. The stoic expression he wore during hero work was softened here, his face illuminated by candle light and, no doubt, some romantic feeling. His suit was immaculately tailored, his infamous hair swept to the side, so that more white than red spilled across his forehead. It only made his eyes stand out brighter, and Izuku sent another prayer of thanks towards the heavens for this opportunity.

His husband snorted. Bakugo Katsuki, the country’s number one hero (“In everything but looks,” he liked to say in interviews, and the audience would swoon) leaned back in his chair as if the restaurant was his own home. Where Todoroki was pristinely beautiful, Bakugou was ruggedly handsome, with a relaxed air that only just concealed the restless, explosive energy under the surface.

“Five fuckin’ years with this gorgeous bastard.” His fingers were intertwined in Todoroki’s across the table, and Izuku gave a tiny sigh of happiness.

“Oh, congratulations!” he said. “And I promise, I will stop fangirling right after this, but I just want to say thank you both, for everything you do, not just hero work, of course, but, well,” he sniffed and looked at the ceiling, willing himself not to cry with feeling. “When you two got married, it –– it really helped me come out, even though my mom says she knew the whole time!”

He bit down on his lip and bowed again, hoping to hide his furious blush and shut himself up. Izuku always had to battle his instinct to connect with people with his need to be professional, though Ochako always claimed that it was the exact reason he was such a favorite with customers.

“Can you recommend a champagne worthy of a five year wedding anniversary, Midoriya?”

Todoroki Shouto wanted his opinion! He couldn’t suppress his grin.

“W-well, if you want a classic approach, of course we have Veuve, Moet, and Taittinger, which is a personal favorite, but…”

“But?” Todoroki cocked his head and Izuku had to swallow at the intensity of the gaze. Everyone knew that the pro hero had expensive tastes he almost never indulged in. But Izuku thought that just maybe... they had come to a 3 Michelin star restaurant to indulge. Fuck it, he thought, they can say no.

“But,” Izuku managed, “we just got in a case of the 2004 Perrier-Jouet Belle Epoque Rosé Cuvée. I’ve never tasted it, of course, but I’ve been told it absolutely ruins a person for lesser champagne.” His neck felt hot from the way Todoroki’s mouth twitched into a smile.

“Just pick something, you rich fuck,” Bakugou said affectionately, and Izuku blushed bright red, caught between his idols in this intimate setting.

“You’ll have to excuse my feral husband,” Todoroki said to him, with a long-suffering air. “He doesn’t appreciate the finer things like you and I.”

Izuku let out a small squeak that he hoped sounded affirmative.

“We’ll have the Perrier-Jouet, and bring three glasses.”

Izuku bowed and hightailed it back to the server’s station. Once out of sight, he slid down the wall and put his head between his knees.

“That bad?” his fellow server, Jirou, asked, deftly punching her order into the POS system.

“I just sold the country’s premier heroes a $300 bottle of champagne,” he huffed.

She whistled. “I don’t know how you do it.”

Izuku took one more deep breath and then scampered down to the wine cellar, his heart pounding with more than the usual fine service adrenaline that he loved. He was going to spend the next two hours serving his absolute idols, gods among men, stuff of both fantasy and legend, and they weren’t just handsome as all get out, they were being nice to him.

“You are not going to screw this up, Izuku,” he muttered, searching for the precious bottle. “You are not going to neglect your other tables for them, and you are not going to cry or drop anything. You are really, really, really fucking good at this. You are going to make sure they have the best goddamn anniversary dinner of their lives.”

…

“Midoriya, right?” Bakugou asked when Izuku returned with the champagne. “That’s me,” Izuku smiled, and showed them the label. He expertly opened the bottle and poured a taste into all three glasses.

“Please,” Todoroki inclined his head, indicating that Izuku taste with them.

Bakugou plucked his glass, tipped the the champagne down his throat, and licked his lips. “Good enough for me,” he grinned. Todoroki rolled his eyes.

He and Izuku swirled the champagne, sniffed, and finally drank. Izuku closed his eyes and let the golden liquid flow across his tongue, images flitting across his mind as his mouth engaged with the sparkle and brightness. When he finally swallowed and opened his eyes, he found them both looking at him expectantly.

“What do you think?” Todoroki held the flute in long fingers, his gaze soft on Izuku’s face.

“Oh,” Izuku sighed. “It’s like June sunshine, with...peonies, and...apricot. The dryness at the end is so precise, like, oh, um, what is it...” he snapped his fingers, still recalling the drink.

“Citrus zest,” Todoroki said softly.

“Yes! Exactly.” He didn’t know how he could blush so often. “Is it… satisfactory?” Please don’t send it back please don’t--

“It is exquisite.”

He released a tiny breath. “Thank you, so much, for the opportunity.” Izuku put his professional self back together and filled their flutes, before letting the bottle sink into the ice bucket. Before he could leave, Todoroki spoke to him again.

“Tell us, Midoriya, what do you do when you’re not making inspired wine choices?”

Bakugou snorted into his water glass. Todoroki ignored this, continuing to look up at Izuku.

“I, um, teach kindergarten during the day,” Izuku said shyly, eyes on the floor. He felt very warm at the center of their attention.

“A teacher. That’s fucking noble as shit.” Bakugou raised his champagne glass. “Cheers to that.”

Todoroki followed suit, solemnly raising his glass. “An unsung hero. Thank you for your service, Midoriya.”

Izuku covered his face with his hands and blushed to the roots of his hair. He missed the glance shared by the pro heroes across the table.

“I’ll give you some time with the menu,” Izuku blurted, then fled.

….

“You goddamn flirt,” Shouto murmured at Katsuki.

His husband shot him a look. “I’m not the one trying to break him, Shouto darling,” Katsuki drawled, and they both laughed into their hands, the champagne bubbles sinking giddily into them all at once.

They’d both immediately admired the man’s physique, of course. Even in a button up shirt, black pants, and an apron, he was obviously broad and muscled, the curve of his traps showing under his collar.

But it was something else entirely that drew them to him, a sparkle that crackled around him like electricity, that shone from his green eyes and wide smile.

“God, those freckles,” Shouto murmured, taking a deep breath.

“I think you mean that ass,” growled Katsuki, and watched a tiny shiver break his husband’s cool demeanor. He loved teasing Shouto into a froth, and this Midoriya person was a snack.

“I want to watch you undo him.” Katsuki stroked a callused finger over Shouto’s thumb. “I think he’d tremble in your hands.”

Shouto’s fucking beautiful eyes were dark, a look Katsuki never tired of. “Do you think..?”

Katsuki smirked. “Homeboy has turned purple every time you’ve spoken to him. And he just came out all over himself.”

Shouto inhaled sharply at his wording and leaned away to take a gulp of water, followed by a sip of the marvelous champagne.

“He has good taste, too.”

“He probably tastes great,” said Katsuki casually, earning a hiss as the server in question approached their table once more.

“What can I bring you for dinner?”

“I wanna know what you like,” said Katsuki bluntly, and Shouto smiled encouragingly. Truthfully, they hadn’t even looked at their menus, distracted as they were by the messenger.

“Ah, ok!” Midoriya’s smile was somehow both shy and blinding. “Do you have any food allergies or aversions?” He looked eagerly between them.

“None,” said Shouto.

“Well in that case, I will have to recommend the squid ink pasta for you, Todoroki-san, with basil and anise hyssop. It’s earthy and bright and like the thaw of spring.” Midoriya blushed, perhaps at being so poetic, but hurried on. “And for you, Bakugou-san, the Osso Bucco. It’s...devastating.”

Katsuki grinned and winked at his husband before looking up innocently. “I don’t suppose you have a wine pairing for the...impending devastation?”

Todoroki’s eyes danced. “Who are you and what have you done with my husband who eats chicken out of tupperware six days a week?!”

Bakugou laughed, and watched Midoriya’s eyes twinkle with excited confidence. He raised both hands as if in surrender. “The two of you might just culture me yet.”

“Where have you been our entire marriage,” Shouto dead-panned.

“Uhm! Ha, ok, well for wine I think…” their server’s brow furrowed as his mind went down to the wine cellar. “There’s the 2002 from Napa, but that might be too fruity, and the acidity isn’t.. But the minerality of the 1995...? It could work, but…” he muttered intently to himself, as the two pro-heroes watched him with a mix of fascination and amusement.

Finally, this angel of a waiter clapped his hands and smiled with his whole self in excitement.

Even Katsuki, who didn’t give a shit about wine, felt eager to know what was coming.

“The 2009 Bruno Giacosa Barbaresco. It has rose and white pepper aromas, but the body is dense and firm, with a lingering finish.”

They both stared at him.

“Dense and firm, you say?” Katsuki said, and then winced as his husband kicked him under the table.

“I put our evening entirely in your capable hands, Midoriya. Bring a glass for yourself again, please.” Shouto purred, eyes tracking down Midoriya’s body to said hands for a beat, before casually handing him their menus.

Katsuki groaned and undid his top button as their flustered waiter beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen. “A lingering finish, my fucking god.”

“Are we predators, or does he know exactly what he’s saying?” Shouto wheezed with laughter, his long beautiful hands flapping helplessly. The candlelight lit up his face, and the worried lines of their work lives were smoothed out by happiness.

“God dammnit I am so fucking in love with you.” Katsuki yanked Shouto closer by his lapel and kissed him, getting a certain amount of teeth from his husband’s grin and not caring. Shouto kissed him back, with a happy hunger that almost never came out in public.

A movement caught Katsuki’s eye and he pulled back.

“Wait, get back here!” he called out to Midoriya’s retreating figure. The waiter stopped and turned around, red to his ears. He had clearly done a turnabout when he caught them making out.

Katsuki smirked and released Shouto’s lapel. “I mean, look at him. Could you resist? Gah, fuck!” The number one hero’s eyes watered in pain as he received another kick to his already bruised shin.

“This is why I only let you out once a year, you inelegant boor,” hissed Shouto, smoothing his mussed collar and running a hand through his hair.

Their handsome server had his lips pressed tightly together, as if to suppress a chuckle. He deftly and determinedly opened the wine bottle and they went through the tasting motions all over again.

They found each other’s hands and shared a glance when Midoriya closed his eyes and tipped his wine back. His green curls were glossy in the ambient lighting, and his throat bobbed when he swallowed. An expression of profound pleasure crossed his face and he released a small sigh. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks.

“I’m starting to get the hype,” Katsuki murmured to Shouto, who had a similar expression on his face. The wine was damn good, but the view was better.

…….

“Can I interest you in dessert?” Midoriya was deftly clearing away the large entree plates, obviously pleased to see they had eaten everything he’d brought them.

“You’re very interested in dessert, aren’t you Shouto?” Katsuki said, leaning towards his husband.

Shouto glared at his husband, his mouth working to suppress a laugh.

“We have a Grand Marnier souffle, classic creme brulee, and a burnt caramel chocolate mousse,” Midoriya rattled off.

“Anything that stands out to you? You’ve taken such good care of us so far.” Shouto bit his lower lip ever so slightly, eyes flicking back to his husband from Midoriya’s face.

“The mousse is… ha,” Midoriya’s nose crinkled in a private joke. “It’s honestly kind of immoral.” His long eyelashes fluttered at them.

“I guess we’ll have that then,” Katsuki grinned, a glint in his eye as he toyed with Shouto’s fingers. “Two spoons, please.”

…...

Izuku was too flustered to look at them when he delivered the dessert, but he watched from the hostess’ stand to gauge their reactions.

Other than some pink in his cheeks, Todoroki looked as immaculate as ever, while Bakugou had grown increasingly casual over the course of the meal, as if his suit couldn’t contain him. His jacket was draped over his chair, the top button of his shirt was undone, leaving his Adam’s apple to bob handsomely as he ate, and now his shirt sleeves were rolled all the way up to his elbows, exposing thick, muscled forearms and big, calloused hands.

Izuku gave up on trying not to stare.

Bakugou lifted a spoonful to Todoroki’s mouth, their eyes burning on each others. Izuku made a weird, longing noise in his throat when Shouto’s eyes closed in pleasure at the dessert.

“Is it just me or do they want to fuck you?”

“What?!” Izuku startled with a yelp.

Ochako laughed. “Don't be dense, Izu, they've been eye-fucking you all evening."

He just blushed and grabbed the check, trying not to show that he’d been letting his imagination run along very similar lines. There’s no way, though, they are just sexy and in love and happy, it has nothing to do with me.

Lost in his thoughts, Izuku returned with the check a little earlier than he should have, just as Bakugou dragged a thumb across Todoroki’s lower lip. Japan’s number one hero locked eyes with Izuku as he put said thumb in his mouth and smiled, a smile that was as delicious as it was evil.

Izuku averted his eyes and gulped, only to catch a similar, if slightly more subtle smile on Todoroki’s face.

“Th-thank you for joining us this evening, Todoroki-san and Bakugou-san,” Midoriya said, bowing to each of them. His fool heart pounded with distraction and disappointment that the night was ending.

“Congratulations again on your anniversary.” He placed the check book down and went to leave, but a cool hand on his stopped him in his tracks.

“Can you recommend a good place for a nightcap around here, Midoriya?” Todoroki’s blue eye burned up at him. He vaguely registered Bakugou taking up the pen and signing the receipt.

“Uhm, yes, there’s, well, there’s Blind Tiger just down the street,” Izuku heard himself saying, while the focus of his entire person narrowed to the touch on his hand. “That’s a favorite of mine for uhm, whiskey cocktails.”

“Sounds perfect,” said Bakugou. “Come join us there when you’re done.”

“Oh, I ––” Midoriya blinked, and licked his lips, and watched as both men tracked the motion with their eyes. Ochako was right, holy fuck, this is real, don’t think about it, just say–

“Yes. I – I will.”

Todoroki exhaled a tiny wisp of steam and drew his hand back, smiling crookedly at his husband, who grinned back wolfishly.

“Tell them I sent you,” he added with a shy smile. Tokoyami is gonna freak the fuck out, he thought happily.

“You are a remarkable person, Midoriya-kun.” In one stupidly graceful motion, Todoroki Shouto pushed back his chair and stood, buttoning his perfect jacket.

“You like those, don’t you, Shouto.” Bakugou rose with a swagger, throwing his jacket over his shoulder with one hand and grabbing his husband around the waist with the other. He leaned over and kissed Todoroki shamelessly on the neck.

“See you soon, then.”

Izuku bowed low, not trusting himself not to combust on the spot, which seemed to be Bakugou Katsuki’s new mission in life.

I am having drinks with the two sexiest pro heroes in the world, do not drool or fall over or scream or cry until they have exited the premises.

When the coast was finally clear, Izuku gathered the checkbook and remaining dishes from their table and booked it back to the server’s stand. He had some groveling to do to get out of closing up.

……………..

“Ochako O’Houlihan O’Brien O’Malley McGregor Macintosh McDougal Uraraka I am cashing in the favor you owe me from the fair, I do not care if your wife goes into labor tonight you are closing for me and I will cover you back any other time for the rest of time.”

Ochako looked at him, doing her best to hide a grin under a deadpan glare. “Why am I Irish?”

Izuku's eyes were wild as he waved his arms and whisper screamed. “THEY. ASKED. ME. OUT. TO. DRINKS!”

Ochako punched him in the arm. “Are you shitting me? Get the FUCK out of here! Wait! Hold on.” She reached a hand into her shirt and rummaged around in her bra. “Here!” She thrust a key into his hand. “Close out the tables whose patrons you are not going to see naked tonight and take a fucking shower ok? I have really great shampoo in my locker.”

Too much of Izuku's blood was rushing in his ears to form a response. He just nodded wildly and put his head between his knees again. “Hooooooley shiiiit.”

Ochako grabbed him by the neck of his shirt and hauled him to his feet. “For the sake of all that is decent, do not wear your fucking gym shorts out of here,” she hissed in his face.

“I have pants, I swear! Clean ones!”

Ochako just glowered at him. “If you get fucked by fucking Shouto and motherfucking Ground Zero tonight, I will name my next cat after you.”

“Not your firstborn?” Izuku laughed.

“Just go, you unbearable gorgeous fuck.”

……..

Chapter Text

Izuku was minty fresh (thanks, Ochako!) and a hasty shift drink stronger when he entered Blind Tiger an hour later.

“Good evening, Midoriya,” said Tokoyami, who leaned his tattooed forearms on the bar. He was beautifully dressed, as always, complete with a pocket watch and vintage armbands. Blind Tiger was his speakeasy, and it was as good as it was because he committed to the experience.

“Care to tell me why our nation’s premiere heroes are dropping your name at my bar?”

“Don’t you dare let them pay for anything,” Izuku said darkly, slapping his card on the bar. “I shamelessly fleeced them at the restaurant and they insisted I join them here, and I’m extremely nervous I will put my foot in my mouth or barf on Ground Zero’s freakishly sexy husband and be blasted into space.”

He took a deep, steadying breath. “That said, please bring me the 18 year Yamazaki, neat.”

Tokoyami gave a shout of laughter. “So you are feeling lucky.”

“Get fucked, Tokoyami.”

“Oh, I’ll leave that to you. Booth number 7.”

Izuku grinned a dangerous grin and gave the bar a pat. “Thanks.”

…

“The man of the hour,” Shouto said warmly, when Midoriya arrived. He let go of Katsuki’s hand and stood up, gesturing to let the shorter man slide onto the bench between them.

“We can’t have you leaving every few minutes anymore,” the hero said quietly, helping Midoriya out of his coat.

Katsuki smiled appreciatively at the vintage All Might t-shirt Midoriya wore, and at the way it clung across his chest and around his arms. Arms that were more scarred than his, even, especially the right.

With a blush they’d been reminiscing about just moments before, the green eyed man slid into place in the sumptuous booth.

“The barkeep told us that you helped invent these cocktails?” Shouto swirled his coupe glass.

His eyes flicked over their drinks in recognition, and his lips twitched. “Ha, yeah, I...I dabble, I guess. I’m glad you like them.” His eyes were on the black tabletop, which gleamed under the low light of a fringed lamp.

Shouto glanced at Katsuki. The poor thing was starstruck and they were coming on too strong.

Thankfully, the bartender arrived then, to place a cut crystal glass in front of Midoriya.

“Thank you, Tokoyami.” He pursed his lips for a moment, looking at Katsuki and then at Shouto, whose drinks were nearly done.

“I have to stop,” Katsuki said emphatically, knowing that look.

“Give him a bitters and soda, with the new batch,” Midoriya said, confidence rising again. “And I want Todoroki-san to try to ice cider.”

“Whatever you say, Deku.”

Midoriya choked on air and glared at the retreating bartender.

“What does Deku mean?” “What are you drinking?”

Midoriya recovered and deliberately turned his attention Shouto. “18 year old Yamazaki. Have you ever had it?”

Shouto shook his head slightly, never taking his eyes from Midoriya’s.

“Please,” Midoriya slid his glass towards Shouto. Shouto took his hand instead of the glass, opening it upwards to reveal the scarred palm.

They were all very close, suddenly, leaning in over the table. The air was heavy.

Shouto raised the whiskey glass to his lips with his free hand and inhaled before taking a sip.

“Damn, yes,” he breathed, and passed the glass the Katsuki, who followed suit.

“Fuckin’ A. You have some kind of sensory Quirk or something?”

“I don’t have any kind of Quirk,” Midoriya said casually. “Just a huge nerd.” Shouto and Katsuki stiffened, but Midoriya gave them each a meaningful look. “Don’t get weird on me now, Pro Heroes.”

Katsuki snorted and rubbed his thumb over Midoriya’s arm. “Fuckin’ A.” He set the whiskey glass back in front of him.

“What is this from?” Shouto’s voice was very gentle, as was the thumb he brushed over the raised tissue on Midoriya’s hand. Katsuki’s rougher, callused, but still gentle finger traced a ridge on his forearm. Midoriya looked between them, and they waited. He could pull away, dismiss their touch, their questions, their closeness, and leave with a pretty good story, if he wanted to.

“Villain attack. At my school. We...I got caught in some rubble.” Shouto’s hand curled into his, while Katsuki’s wrapped gently around his elbow.

“Were there heroes there to stop it?” asked Shouto.

“You were.” Midoriya’s voice was very quiet. “I think you saved my life, but I had a pretty bad concussion and was pretty, uhm, out of it, after.”

“What Midoriya isn’t telling you is that he saved six children’s lives that day.” Tokoyami had appeared from nowhere with a tray.

The dapper bartender set a fizzing pint glass in front of Bakugou and a dainty liqueur glass in front of Todoroki.

“He punched through a wall and pulled them out, then ferried them to the EMTs. But when he had last kid out, the roof caved in.”

“Please, Tokoyami ––”

“Midoriya shielded the kid with his body, and almost died. The child was unscathed.”

Tokoyami vanished again, leaving the booth in stunned silence.

“It... sounds cooler than it was.”

“That is the nature of hero work,” Todoroki said. He took a deep breath and cradled Midoriya’s scarred hand in both of his.

“Anyone would have done the same thing,” Midoriya mumbled, flustered by the exposure. “They were kids.”

“Talk is cheap,” said Bakugou gruffly. “You’re a goddamned hero.”

“No, really I just––”

“We do have some authority on the subject,” said Shouto haughtily, and Midoriya released a huff.

Shouto lifted the scarred hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the palm. “You are a remarkable person, Midoriya.”

Katsuki watched the young man’s eyes go slack, and knew what it felt like to have Shouto’s full and intimate attention on you like that. There would more time for that later.

“Enough, Shou, you’re gonna break him.” Katsuki scuffed Shouto’s shoe under the table. “Now, Freckles, tell me what the fuck is in here because its refreshing as hell.”

Midoriya blinked and blushed at the nickname, but sighed in relief at the change of subject.

“Oh, its, um, just soda water with orange, obviously, and some black walnut bitters that Tokoyami and I put up a few months ago,” the words came out faster and faster, like a kettle releasing pressure. “They’re wonderful in any bourbon drink, because it is often so sweet, you know? And we’ve been tinkering with the recipe for about a year? I think… and I’m pretty happy with this batch. You should bring some home, if you like it, I’ll get Tokoyami to bottle some up for you, I especially like bitters and soda for, haha, hangovers? Because you need to hydrate, of course, but then the little whisper of alcohol kind of rounds you out again, so…”

He took a meaningful sip of his whiskey, spluttered, and wiped his lips with his fingers.

“That’s more than you wanted to know, I do that, sorry––”

“And this?” Shouto lifted the tiny glass and sniffed the amber liquid before taking a small sip. He paused, eyes never leaving Midoriya’s face. “Oh, wow.”

“You like it?” Midoriya positively glowed. “We just got it in from New England, there’s this special technique, right, where they freeze the cider during the ferment, and it concentrates the sugars because they are more dense than water, see, and then it is aged in oak barrels like you would expect for liquor. Way more potent and interesting than hard cider and it tastes like, well, you know, like if apples made honey made wine.” He paused, slightly breathless. “So cool.”

Shouto handed the glass to Katsuki. It looked ridiculous in his giant hands. He shot his husband a challenging grin.

“If you knock that back I swear to god you’re sleeping on the couch tonight,” Shouto warned, his eyes narrowed. “It’s delicious and he picked it for me.”

“On our anniversary?!” Katsuki tried to look scandalized, but it turned into a leer. He sipped daintily and shrugged. “Too sweet for me. I like my sugar salty...a little bitter, even.” He licked his lips as he handed the glass to Midoriya, whose face was beet red. “You two are way to fuckin’ sophisticated for me, anyway.”

“We got to a nice restaurant once a year, you drama queen,” accused Shouto. “We’d go to Yamabe Okachimachi for every date if it was up to you.”

“They have the 2nd best pork tonkatsu in the city,” mused Midoriya.

“Thank you, damn, you do like normal shit!” Katsuki crowed, and then stopped. “Wait, 2nd best?”

“First is obviously Maisen,” said Shouto smugly, “right, Midoriya?”

He winced. “Oof, sorry Todoroki-san. I like you, but Maisen is too fancy. Maybe 8th place if there’s a beer special.”

Katsuki guffawed at the indignation on Shouto’s face. “So who’s number one then, if you’re such an expert!?”

“I am an expert, thank you, its my favorite food!” Midoriya shot back. “And obviously the best is my mom’s.”

The two heroes laughed.

“Well fucking played. I told you Maisen was too fancy for tonkatsu. He gets it.”

“Don’t feel bad, Todoroki-san.” Midoriya grinned that impish grin and leaned his chin on his free hand to gaze up at Shouto. “I’ll take you to my secret soba spot if you promise to wear a disguise.”

Katsuki couldn’t stop laughing, thoroughly enjoying the way Midoriya was disarming his cool, beautiful, usually composed husband.

Shouto matched him, chin on his hand, and leaned forward to look slightly down at the shorter man. Midoriya stood his ground, but his pupils dilated.

“You don’t want to be seen with me?”

Midoriya’s mouth twitched. “Oh, it’s not that. It's just that Mizu-chan only makes about eight batches a day, a couple days a week. I can’t let the #shoutosquad get wind of her secret.”

Shouto winced at the name of his fanbase. They were determined, alright, and would retweet his soba excursions with a fervor that bordered on fanatical.

“Only eight batches?”

Midoriya nodded slowly, chin rocking, his eyes never leaving Shouto’s.

“It’s a religious experience, eating Mizu-chan’s soba. And she gives me extra, because she thinks I’m cute.” He batted his eyelashes, and Katsuki watched his husband blush.

“You are cute,” he said bluntly.

Midoriya huffed and dropped back against the upholstery, as if Shouto had cheated at their game. He ran his free hand through his curls, releasing a fresh, minty smell.

“Tell us about teaching,” Shouto said, sipping his drink with a coy smile. “I’m intrigued by your disparate worlds.”

“Pretentious fuck,” muttered Katsuki.

Midoriya beamed.

“My kids are so amazing,” he sighed. “They’re so curious and creative, and have the wildest ideas. Just the other day, this sweet tiny girl named Eri looked up at me and said ‘Sensei, did you get your freckles from the woods?’” His nose crinkled at the memory.

Shouto sent his husband a melty look.

“I feel spoiled, Katsuki,” sighed Shouto. His chin was still in his free hand as he openly gazed at Midoriya.

“You are spoiled, love,” Katsuki said, with surprising gentleness. His calloused hand joined theirs on the table top.

Their sweet, green-eyed captive drained the last of his whiskey and giggled.

“This is unbelievable.”

The pink on his cheeks was permanent, now, and he ran his hand through his hair again and tugged at his t-shirt, as if to cool off.

“You’re quite flushed,” Shouto breathed. “May I?”

Midoriya nodded, his chest rising and falling as his breathing deepened. Shouto slid closer and placed a cool hand on his forehead. The green curls were soft against his fingers, and the heat of Midoriya’s skin sent a zip of sensation down Shouto’s arm.

“I feel very drawn to you,” he said bluntly, and was rewarded by another nod, and the lick of lips.

“You look very good together,” purred Katsuki, closer now than before. Their knees touched, and neither drew away.

“Say the word, and we will say goodnight, Midoriya,” said Shouto, his fingers tracing down his temple, a thumb swiping across that freckled cheek as his hand slotted into place on Midoriya’s jaw. His fingers twined into the soft curls behind his ear.

Katsuki laid another calloused hand over the scarred one, his thumb tracing the ridges once more. He was fucking ready to see them kiss, but he waited patiently, except to inch that much closer, pressing up against Midoriya's muscled thigh.

It was delicious, watching this man. He emoted and reacted in ways that his toxic ass never did, in ways his beloved but emotionally stunted Shouto certainly never learned to. In ways pro heroes weren’t really allowed.

Midoriya’s eyes dropped closed at the contact, and he gulped. His chest –– his fucking sculpted chest–– rose and fell with breaths that sounded ragged already.

“Please, don’t leave m-me,” he managed, face pressing deeper into Shouto’s palm as his hand gripped Katsuki’s almost painfully.

Instantly, Katsuki had his face buried in Midoriya’s neck, inhaling the soft skin behind his ear, their bodies close, his mouth against that flushed skin. They were rewarded with a sharp whine, which Shouto muffled with his thumb against Midoriya’s lips.

“Come home with us,” growled Katsuki, and Shouto smiled as Midoriya nodded, helplessly.

“Yes, I will, fuck.”

Shouto met his husband’s eyes and they knew exactly the thrill that the other was feeling. They needed to leave, now.

“You get a car, I’ll get the tab,” said Katsuki quickly, reluctantly disengaging from Midoriya’s neck.

The green haired man barked a laugh. “I’m getting the tab.” He shook himself out of Shouto’s grasp and scrubbed at his face before slipping out of the booth.

He bumped into Katsuki’s chest and stopped. “I’d like to see you try,” Katsuki said. His face was predatory in that way he was known for, and his explosive hands were on Midoriya’s waist, pinning him to his body.

Midoriya looked up through his eyelashes at the pro hero, his full lower lip caught in his teeth. Both hands came to rest on Katsuki’s chest, the fingertips digging in just so. “This is my house, Bakugou-kun,” he said, his voice lilting. “But I’ll let you make it up to me somehow.”

Beside them, Shouto burst into laughter, his shoulders shaking so much he had to sit down again. Katsuki’s face was red for the first time that night, and it was his turn to take a step back and run a hand through his hair, flustered as he was.

Midoriya gave him an impish grin and slipped by him back out to the bar.

“That fuckin’ flirt,” growled Katsuki into Shouto’s mouth, who’d grabbed him for a kiss. “I’m gonna make him scream for that.” He swallowed down Shouto’s whimper and they dragged each other to the door.

This would be an anniversary to remember.

Chapter Text

The instant they crossed the threshold into the house, Bakugou was out of his shoes, shirt, and belt, and on his way to the kitchen.

“He’s resists all types of confinement,” said Todoroki dryly, who carefully removed and put away his dress shoes.

Izuku shucked off his sneakers, staring open mouthed at the soft greys and masculine lines of their home. It was handsome and tasteful and there was a stack of books on the coffee table.

“Hey, Freckles,” Bakugou called from the kitchen, where he leaned against the counter with a glass of water. “C’mere.”

He got a reassuring pat from Todoroki and obeyed, socked feet padding across the hardwood floor.

Bakugou filled another glass and handed it to him. “Hydrate or die.”

Izuku giggled and accepted the glass. The cool water was more than welcome, after a long night of work and talk and booze and anticipation. He drank gratefully, and set the glass down on the counter.

Bakugou handed his glass to Todoroki, who leaned in the doorway, his remarkable eyes upon them.

Izuku licked his lips as Bakugou stepped purposefully towards him. Two calloused hands rested on the counter on either side of him, and strong hips settled against his own. Bakugou’s bare chest was hot and hard and smooth.

Izuku was pinned in place by scarlet eyes, which were hooded and liquidy now as Bakugou’s face came closer and closer, and he had to tilt his head back to keep seeing him, and then Bakugou motherfucking Katsuki was kissing him on the mouth.

The kiss was lingering and deliberate, claiming Izuku and promising him a thrilling intensity in the tantalizingly near future. Bakugou’s mouth was hot, his tongue confident, his lips the tiniest bit sweet. When he pulled back, Izuku panted to catch his breath, still bent back against the countertop.

Bakugou let him straighten up a bit, though his hips stayed in place. He looked into Izuku’s eyes, at his open, moistened lips, and a small smile twitched on his mouth. “Devastating.”

Izuku smiled and sucked at the sweetness on his lower lip, breathing in the moment.

“Come,” said Todoroki, who took his hand as Bakugou finally released him from the counter.

They led him to their bedroom, which glowed with soft, indirect lighting and navy accents and light grey sheets. An enormous bed took up the center, made up as perfectly as if in a hotel room.

Izuku slowed, eyes wide. The two heroes followed his gaze to the collection of handprints burned into the blonde wood of the headboard.

“Ah, yes. Time for your present, Shou.” Katsuki opened a drawer in the wall and tossed a string of condoms onto the bed (Izuku shivered) and withdrew a small box before closing it. “Mei did the redesign you asked for.”

Todoroki released Izuku’s hand to accept the box and opened it, revealing two slim bracelets of a dark, metallic grey material.

“Quirk suppressants,” Katsuki explained to a confused Izuku. “So Shouto doesn’t light our fucking bed on fire, again.” He gestured to the headboard.

He took his husband’s chin tenderly and gave him a long, loving kiss. “I want you to let go tonight, Shou. No holding back.”

Shouto’s breathing had picked up a notch, but his voice was carefully controlled. “They have the quick release?”

“Yes, just like you wanted. Here, try them.”

Izuku watched as they placed one of the bracelets on Todoroki’s wrist. He took a deep breath, then tested it, procuring just a wisp of smoke from his left hand. Then he yanked it off, and put the other on, producing just a puff of frost. Then he yanked that off and tossed them both back in the box, hands flexing once again with fire and ice.

“How do they feel?” Bakugou watched carefully as Shouto put them on again, then tore them off even faster. He did it twice more, and then put them back on and smiled, with a sigh of relief. “They’re excellent, love, thank you.”

“Oh, you’ll thank me, alright,” Bakugou smirked, his voice low. “When wonderpup here is naked and trembling and moaning your name.” Shouto exhaled a low, intimate sound and let himself be kissed again.

The object of their desires was fully distracted by the bracelets, however, turning Shouto’s hand over to inspect the material and make.

“How do they work? Is it the material that disrupts quirks, or is it the construction? I guess those are kind of related, but still, and what is it that’s suppressed, like the blood flow or is it magnetic or––”

Izuku’s thoughts were abruptly derailed as a strong hand fully cupped his ass and squeezed.

“Hey.” A voice rough with desire was hot against his ear. “Pay attention to me.”

“Y-yes, sir,” Izuku’s eyelids and breath fluttered.

A chuckle. “It’s pronounced Shouto. And that’s Katsuki.”

“Yes, ah–Shouto.”

An emphatic groan came from somewhere above him, and Izuku was released. He took a deep breath and gathered his courage, before looking up at his hosts.

“Uhm, please don’t call me, like, slut or anything,” he said, his voice cracking a bit. “Nice things are fine, but I don’t…ugh” he shook his head. “My ex played a lot of, like, mind games, so I don’t…”

“Of course.” Izuku was gathered up between them, wrapped in strong arms, gentle kisses pressed against his temples and forehead and lips. “Thank you for telling us.”

“No mind games,” said Katsuki, tipping up Izuku’s chin to look into his eyes. “Stop means stop. No means no. Hell yes means yes.” His thumb stroked gently under Izuku’s lower lip, reassuring.

“Can we have you tonight, Midoriya?” Shouto’s voice was calm and steady, and all hands stilled as they waited for his answer.

The hopeful, nervous feeling that had been growing in Izuku’s belly all evening burst into hot, delirious joy.

“Hell yes.”

And finally, with delicious clarity, the kisses intensified.

Izuku tasted Katsuki’s sweetness on his lips again as his back pressed against the buttons of Shouto’s crisp shirt. A small, desperate noise crawled up his throat and slipped between their lips, and Bakugou swallowed it down with a tiny growl before pulling away an inch.

“I’m going to watch my husband undress you now.”

Izuku gasped as that voice and the rest of his blood rushed straight between his legs.

The hero stepped away and sank into an armchair near the end of the bed. He wore only his dress pants, and Izuku let himself admire the muscles of the hero’s arms and chest, as seen on TV. A heated presence rolled off of him as he lounged back in the chair, his gaze heavy upon them with an undeniable sense of command.

Shouto’s long fingers rested on his shoulders. Izuku felt a mouth on his ear, gently tasting his earlobe.

“We’re going to savor you, Midoriya,” Shouto said into his neck.

“Izuku, please,” he blurted.

“Izuku.” Shouto’s voice was almost reverent. “That tastes even better.”

Shouto worked slow, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw. Long hands slid down his sides and came up again under his elbows, gently pushing his arms up to wrap around Shouto’s neck.

“We’ve been wondering about you all night, Izuku.” Shouto’s voice was velvet.

Izuku leaned back and let his fingers sink into his captor’s silky soft hair, eyes falling closed as hands worked up and down his chest, his shirt riding up to expose his midriff.

“We’ve been wondering how you feel...”

Hands ran down his arms, gripped his biceps––

“How you sound…”

Fingers teased a nipple through his shirt, he gasped––

“How you taste…”

Teeth sank into his earlobe––

“The shirt, Shou,” came a growl from the armchair. Izuku’s eyes fluttered open just enough to see the hunger on Katsuki’s face, and the way one hand rested on the bulge between his legs.

Torturously slow, Shouto slid his hands under Izuku’s shirt and lifted it, exposing his abs, lingering on his nipples and pecs, and finally, finally, breaking contact to slip the garment over his head.

“Fuck,” the married men said in unison. Those freckles they liked were liberally sprinkled across thickly muscled shoulders and arms. A dark trail led from his belly button and disappeared into his pants.

“Good god, come here,” and Shouto turned him around. Their eyes met for a single breath, lingering on the anticipation between them for one more moment.

He’s so tall, Izuku’s brain whispered, before Shouto took his mouth, and colors burst behind his eyelids.

A roaming hand gripped his ass through his jeans while the other tangled into the hair at the nape of his neck, holding Izuku flush against the most beautiful man in the country.

Izuku pitched forward into the kiss, helpless as a long thigh slotted between his legs. A moan sounded from his throat, desperate and unbidden and loud.

Shouto inhaled sharply and pulled back with a short growl, gripping Izuku’s hips to separate them. Red and white hair spilled onto his forehead as he caught his breath and smiled, a smile that made wet heat pool in Izuku’s darkest places.

He ran a thumb across Izuku’s nipple, and was rewarded with a gasp. “Let’s show Katsuki what I just found.” He chuckled at Izuku’s kiss-dazed expression before bodily turning him back to face the chair.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Shouto murmured, to one or both of them, eyes latching on Katsuki’s. His husband’s gaze was scorching on the two of them. The hand that held Izuku in place was flat against his abs, fingertips dipping just so under the elastic of his briefs, while Shouto deftly flicked open the button of his jeans and eased down the zipper.

“Shouto…” Katsuki’s voice was somewhere between warning and begging.

“Keep your arms up for Katsuki,” he whispered to Izuku, letting a long finger dance over the sliver of exposed underwear. “We only get to undress you for the first time once.”

Shouto sank to his knees, taking an indulgent, private look at Izuku’s ass before meeting his husband’s gaze again. He eased the jeans down Izuku’s legs, tenderly helping him out of one leg, then the other, before sending his fingertips running over muscled thighs.

Izuku’s knees trembled.

A guttural noise came from the chair. Katsuki was on the edge of his seat, eyes dark and hungry as they darted between the dramatic tent of Izuku’s green boxer briefs and the wandering of Shouto’s pale hands.

“The bed, now.”

Bakugou motherfucking Katsuki was naked by the time he stood up from the chair.

And before the fullness of that reality could settle, Izuku was on the bed, being kissed senseless by one gorgeous man as another sucked his neck and someone groped his chest and there was a hand fisted into his hair and another or two more teasing him through his underwear, and blood pounded in his ears and it was too hot, too much, too soon, he couldn’t ––

“Wait,” he rasped, “slow down.”

Everything stilled, though heavy breathing filled the room. Izuku retrieved his eyes from the back of his head and took a few deep, shuddering breaths, cataloguing in the weight of hands and eyes upon him, trying to slow the hammering of his heart and the pulsing need straining against his briefs.

“Of course, of course,” whispered Shouto, sprinkling delicate kisses over his flushed face.

“Just, fuck, one sec, I’m just living out, like, six of my most potent fantasies at once and I can’t, I won’t––”

“Oh yeah?” Katsuki nodded into his neck, matching Izuku’s breaths with deep inhales of his own.

Izuku released a slightly crazed, high pitched giggle. “Did I not make that clear? I––ah! literally found out I was gay watching you both at the 2017 sports festival.”

“That’s funny, I did too,” Shouto murmured, gently tugging Izuku’s chin over for a kiss. “Maybe that’s why I lost to Katsuki in the final round.”

“Wow, fuck you,” growled Katsuki, his mouth around Izuku’s nipple. He earned a shudder in return.

“Mmm, soon,” Shouto replied, smiling as he took Izuku’s soft lips again and again, their tongues intertwining around small, wet moans.

Izuku’s hands struggled at the buttons of Shouto’s shirt, desperate and distracted by the mouth on his, and by the calloused fingertips now tracing the waistband of his underwear.

“Shou, you don’t want to miss this.”

Shouto groaned and pulled away, taking one more kiss before shedding his unbuttoned shirt. Katsuki settled gracefully on the floor between Izuku’s legs, hands resting deliberately on his hips.

“A rare tasting opportunity,” Katsuki drawled, though desire had him taut and humming. “You’ll forgive us if we’re not...wine experts, right, Freckles?”

Izuku looked between them, eyes glassy with lust, a perfect blush reaching down his throat and across his chest. A pitchy breath escaped him.

“I’m getting hints of, mmm...mint.”

Izuku could feel the smile on Shouto’s lips against his neck.

“Notes of wood, one might say.”

Katsuki was kissing his way up Izuku’s inner thighs.

“Full-bodied.”

Nails grazed gently across his chest, sending shivering spasms down his back.

“Exceptionally smooth.”

Izuku gurgled and twitched and gasped as hands and mouths worked over him, and finally, fucking finally, with a collective breath, Katsuki hooked his fingers into the elastic and pulled.

Shouto released a guttural, predatory sound.

Izuku must have blushed all the way to his toes, resting vaguely on the hardwood floor, on either side of a man so provocative, his very sweat was explosive.

A beat passed, as the air thickened, as the stroke of a large hand tore a wild shout from Izuku’s throat, and then––

“Dense and firm.”

Izuku could practically hear the shit-eating grin on Katsuki’s face, but his laugh was cut short by a wanton moan, as that eager mouth sank down around him.

Chapter Text

The worst and best part of being married to Katsuki Bakugou was that he was good at everything. If he wasn’t, he would just practice until he was. He could cook. He could sing. He could dance. God damn, Shouto loved that his husband could dance.

Oh, yeah, and he taught himself to fly. He did physics equations in his head, because he could fucking fly.

They went to a fair, one time, in high school. Katsuki watched the clown performance for a while, then casually asked to borrow some juggling balls. Denki had about a thousand jokes on the tip of his tongue, of course, but then Katsuki just started juggling and it wasn’t remotely funny, it was just super fucking annoying.

And oddly arousing. And maybe Shouto pulled him into a vacant psychic’s booth and they got to third base that night, maybe.

Motivation was a factor, of course. Katsuki prioritized the fucks he gave. Gardening. Art History. The nuances of expensive wine. These did not matter enough to get good at.

But what he decided to do, he did about as well as it could be done. And Katsuki wasn’t exactly humble about his skills, which sometimes made it hard to be married to him.

What made it easy to stay married to him was that one of Katsuki’s most earnest and dedicated pursuits was the sexual satisfaction of one Shouto Todoroki.

Hence the handprints branded onto the headboard. Hence the quest for the perfect quirk suppressants. Hence the astronomical thread count of their bed sheets, and a veritable library of lube.

Hence the dinner and the wine and the strategic courting of the delicious specimen currently writhing insensibly under Katsuki’s oral ministrations.

“Dinner and a show,” Katsuki winked at Shouto, his chin sinfully wet.

His mouth was literally full of handsome stranger, and he was making jokes. The assault on Shouto’s dignity was acute.

“Hnnnnghhhh,” said Izuku, hands grasping helplessly at the blonde crop of Katsuki’s hair.

Shouto was half out of his mind, and he still had his goddamn pants on.

“Hold on to him, Shou, I’m working.”

…..

The rational world was rapidly slipping from Izuku’s grasp. Every time he confirmed his reality, the reality he found sent him spiraling with lust all over again.

His fingers clutched at Shouto’s strong forearms, and Shouto’s forearms sent a wave of whimpering babble from his lips.

The babble was silenced by Shouto’s mouth, and the eager pressure of it sent electricity jolting through his hips.

And every jolt of his hips was served back to him, sent back eight-fold with an illicit, mind-bending rhythm. Suction and wetness and heat from Ground Zero himself that pressed Izuku’s head back into the mattress and drew strangled gasps from his throat.

Reality skipped–– language evaporated. He was sinking, soaring, vision shimmering, voice detached and rising as Katsuki finally picked a pace and stuck to it.

Izuku’s every particle contracted, and he wailed.

….

Katsuki lifted his head and watched with Shouto, both rapt, pulses pounding, mouths open.

Izuku’s release practically lifted him off the mattress. He came in jolting arcs, heavy stripes landing on his beautiful, blushing chest.

The aftershocks sent Izuku’s curly head tossing, the manic cry subsiding to half-whispers and punchy breaths and erratic twitches through his shoulders and hips.

Katsuki released him, gently, big hands moving to stroke his thighs in admiration.

Izuku resettled, slowly.

He found his feet on the floor, felt the hands rubbing his legs, returned to the rapid cooling of wetness on his chest, heard the creaking of his knuckles as they unclenched.

His eyes blinked open slowly, and above him was Shouto’s devastatingly beautiful face. Those infamous eyes, watching him with abject, intimate lust.

“Breathtaking,” he whispered.

“I, huh,” said Izuku eloquently, and gave in to a boneless sigh as Shouto kissed his hair.

A shiver sent a wriggle down through him, and his legs caught around Katsuki, whose gaze managed to be both comforting and absolutely wicked at the same time.

“Helluva singing voice,” grinned Katsuki, standing up again. Izuku blinked at his nakedness, watching as he stalked away on slightly stiff legs.

“If he isn’t the most infuriating piece of ass on the planet,” muttered Shouto affectionately, reclaiming Izuku’s attention with his insatiable mouth. “And if you aren’t the most-” he tugged meaningfully on Izuku’s swollen lower lip, “-delectable treat we’ve ever brought home.”

A warm washcloth met Izuku’s chest, and he tore his mouth from Shouto’s to see Katsuki gently sponging him clean.

“Th-thanks,” he breathed, struggling to find words amidst the onslaught of attention.

“Tch.”

Izuku released a giddy laugh, his curly head lolling back on Shouto’s arms.

Katsuki worked his way up Izuku’s body with the towel, taking mouthfuls of his skin with those handsome, sweet-tasting lips. He reached Izuku’s face and kissed him, hard, letting his long, naked body press him down into the bed. He grinned conspiratorially as Izuku’s breath caught and Shouto huffed with impatience.

“Hey, Freckles.” Another teasing kiss. “Wanna help me take Shouto apart?”

Izuku nodded vigorously, and Katsuki stared him down a moment longer, tasting his own lips.

“You take the front,” he said, almost into Izuku’s open mouth, low but loud enough for everyone to hear. “His ass is mine.”

A needy noise came from Shouto. “Please, Katsuki.”

“Let’s get his pants off, to start.”

Izuku missed the weight and heat of Katsuki immediately, but was quickly distracted as Katsuki hauled Shouto to his feet and spun him to press up against his back. He made quick work of the dress pants, which dropped into a silky pile and were kicked away.

Izuku sat up, and all of a sudden the tent in Shouto’s briefs was very much in front of his face.

Two pro heroes looked down at him, one feral and self-satisfied, the other panting and glassy.

Izuku swallowed.

Katsuki laughed at him. “You gonna help or what?” He was working Shouto into a lather, touching him everywhere but the critical real estate in front of Izuku’s face.

Izuku’s head had cleared significantly since his orgasm, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t acutely aware of the way his hands trembled, now that he was responsible for divesting his number one celebrity crush of his luxury brand black briefs. Briefs, which, this close to his face, left only a....handful to the imagination.

Ok, rather more than a handful.

He was giddy, and a little stupid from it.

“The six million dollar question,” breathed Izuku, mostly to himself.

“What was that?”

He demurred, but a tiny giggle escaped him. “N-nothing.”

Katsuki’s hands went still and Shouto gave a small whine of impatience. He reached for the waistband himself but Katsuki slapped his hands away.

“What did you say?”

Izuku had already blushed about a thousand times that night, for reasons infinitely more intimate, but this time he buried his face in his hands, thoroughly embarrassed.

“‘The Six Million Dollar Question,’ it’s, oh god it’s a fucking––” Izuku inhaled and kept his eyes covered. “It’s a stupid fan meme about….about the colors of Shouto’s, y’know,” he gestured, eyes still screwed shut.

“About his half ’n half pubes?” Katsuki laughed, and even Shouto gave a huff of amusement, though it was strained.

He pushed Shouto forward a step, bringing his crotch to Izuku’s eye-level, where he sat on the bed.

“On behalf of all the fans, please.”

“Sh-Shouto, I’m sorry, I––”

Shouto looked down at those gleaming green eyes and sank a hand into Izuku’s curls. “‘S fine.” His voice was a little raspy.

Katsuki growled with impatience as Izuku struggled to gather his wits. Shouto was breathing heavily, with a low whine unending in his throat. He looked down at Izuku, his mouth open, his face strained with want.

“Izuku,” he breathed, and that was all it took.

A dazzling smile broke out across Izuku’s face. Nervousness deserted him. He might not be a hero, but he lived to serve. Without another shred of hesitation, he hooked his fingers onto the elastic around Shouto’s hips and pulled.

He’d been right –– the colors split right down the middle.
…

Shouto was in the throes of a serious crush.

He was a person, after all. A person can be happily married and still have a favorite clerk at the grocery store. No harm in a little transactional flirting. He and Katsuki had amazing sex when one of them caught a spark from some civilian, or visiting hero. But they were rarely the same person.

Shouto was a sucker for a nice sweater, and intellectuals found his stoic indifference irresistible.

Katsuki, meanwhile, was a connoisseur of how pants fit, especially joggers on their way to or from the gym. And beefcakes always loved Katsuki’s tiny waist.

But pretty and powerful? That was rare.

Izuku Midoriya was all the things, apparently. Insatiably curious, effusive, easily amused. Fucking jacked. And so, so pretty.

And just now, if Shouto could believe his goddamn life, he was gazing up with those green eyes all big and shining, his lovely curls damp from the most expressive orgasm ever witnessed, and that plush, happy mouth ghosting a breath along Shouto’s own, almost painfully excited cock.

“Like Christmas fucking morning,” Katsuki rumbled into his ear.

“Guh,” said Shouto, as Izuku laughed with his mouth full.

…..

Now, to be clear, Izuku Midoriya had some experience with blowjobs.

He’d gotten plenty, he’d given more. He’d pursued the art of oral sex with the same focus he applied to all of his interests; that is to say, with a single minded tenacity and more talking than was strictly necessary. He may have jotted down a few notes on the subject, not during, of course, but after.

After a few fervent years of thorough research, an impressive but not worrisome number of (satisfied) partners, and thoughtful, nighttime reflection, Izuku had decided that blowjobs were a right brain activity.

Much like making art, or sinking deep into a good book, or developing a sensational cocktail, delivering a really great blowjob was a pursuit distinct from linear time and logical reasoning.

What Izuku’s partners knew, if he didn’t, was that more than any particular angle or moisture-to-length ratio, it was Izuku’s own open-hearted enthusiasm that really brought the fireworks.

Which is all to say, Shouto Todoroki was a very lucky man.

…

Katsuki hissed as Izuku’s free hand reached between Shouto’s legs and found him, slick and exploring.

Callused hands dug into Shouto’s sides as Izuku tugged and tongued and stroked and pulled eager sounds from both of their mouths .

“Godsfucking dammit,” Katsuki gritted out, regaining his senses just enough to pull away.

A strong hand dug into Izuku’s hair and pulled his head back, so that he stared up at them, swollen lips parted, panting, the slick tip of Shouto’s cock just resting on his wet chin.

“I’m gonna make you come all over him, Shou,” Katsuki growled, and got matching whimpers in response.

Izuku scrambled backwards as Katsuki crowded Shouto forward onto the bed, falling to his hands and knees.

“Lube, bottom drawer.”

Izuku found it and tossed it to Katsuki, before grabbing Shouto’s face in a kiss. Katsuki snagged the string of condoms on the bed and helped himself to one.

“Us pro heroes have to set a good example,” he leered, drizzling lube from an unnecessary height. A frantic chuckle bubbled from Shouto’s lips.

Izuku kissed Shouto, deep and messy and crazy, and swallowed his moans as Katsuki began his ministrations. Izuku wriggled down so he was right underneath them, drinking in every twitch of pleasure that crossed Shouto’s face.

He wet his hand and watched Shouto’s eyes flutter and roll, teasing and loosely stroking, taking kisses and long looks as Katsuki toyed and stretched from behind. Shouto was a mess of expletives and moans, his braceleted hands clenching fistfuls of bedspread.

“You evil, goddamn, you two, fucking, damnit, you cocksucking, damn you, Kat, you fucking, teasing fucks, please, Izuku, for fuck’s sake, I need, please––”

“Is he ready, Katsuki?”

“I dunno, are you ready, Shouto?”

“Yes! Godsdamnit, yes, please, you teasing fucks, I just––!”

But even Katsuki had his limits, and he flattened his hand against Shouto’s back and pressed himself all the way into the lust that crackled between them.

His husband gave a wild, moaning shout of sensation and relief and renewed desperation.

Katsuki clutched and thrust and the impenetrable control he had wielded thus far crumbled into primal abandon. Shouto’s face was tense with pleasure, his hair hanging down, damp with sweat.

They glistened and groaned together and Izuku looked and looked, babbling nonsense as he marveled at the power and bliss colliding above him.

“You’re so good, Shouto, so beautiful, just hold on, hold on for us, just like that, yes baby, hold on for him, it's so good to watch, you’ve got this. You’re so hot, Shouto, you’re going to come soon, I promise, just hold on, I‘ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve got you...”

Izuku’s hands were steady, stroking and squeezing as Shouto shuddered and clenched his teeth.

“Oh fuck, Shou, I’m––!”

And at the ecstatic shout of Katsuki’s release, Izuku gripped a little tighter, added a twist of his wrist, and with a strangled, breathless whine, Shouto went over the edge.

When they regained their grips on reality, and disengaged, and opened their eyes properly, Shouto and Katsuki found Izuku thoroughly besmirched. There was white down his front and in his hair and splashed across his wide, cheeky smile.

“Happy anniversary, Sho,” Katsuki murmured, and hugged his husband fiercely from behind before letting him flop bonelessly onto the mattress beside Izuku.

“So happy,” sighed Shouto.

…..

A hazy cuddle of time passed, then. Izuku noticed the lights dim further, though whether it was automatic or part of Katsuki’s prowling around for water and washcloths, he couldn’t tell. At his husband’s chiding to ‘stop futzing and fucking snuggle me, Kat,’ he flopped down on Shouto’s other side and joined the pile.

Eventually, just as their breathing had slowed, so it picked up again. The charge of tension whispered up once again, a little static that began with a slight shifting of hips, the brush of lips pressed against shoulders, the roaming of hands. Breath hitched and and turned to small half-repressed sounds of pleasure.

“I still want to know,” Katsuki said huskily, finally breaking the tense quiet as he walked his fingers up and over Izuku’s abs, lingering on the muscle definition. “What does ‘Deku’ mean?”

There was a long pause, as Izuku looked Katsuki in the eye and licked his lips.

“I’m not sure you’re ready to find that out, Bakugou-kun.” The lilting, teasing voice from earlier was back, and Katsuki had to pretend it didn’t make him blush again.

“Tch. Fucking try me.”

A languorous, sinful grin spread across Izuku’s face.

Slowly, deliberately, Izuku crawled over Shouto and settled himself onto Katsuki’s hips.

He stretched his arms above his head, casually, as if he had all the time in the world. As if the nation’s most powerful hero wasn’t under him, curious and naked.

The pliable, blushing creature they’d undone earlier was no longer in the room.

In his place, in this scarred and sculpted body, was a man of heretofore unknown confidence and power.

Shouto watched as this person pressed the side of his husband’s face into the mattress and bent over to growl in his ear.

“Deku is my fucking hero name.”

Chapter Text

Katsuki woke first, to the dip between Shouto’s shoulders.

He’d never get tired of waking up wrapped around that long back, feeling the fluctuating temperatures play against his chest. After so many years, Katsuki knew the rhythms of Shouto’s power, that his inhale was cooler, his exhale warmer. That too much fire work in the evenings made his sleep restless, while too much ice made him more sluggish the next day.

The only good reason to pull away from his husband’s long, gorgeous form (besides rescuing innocents), was to see his sleeping face, which was so smooth and unguarded that it made Katsuki’s heart squelch with fondness. Shouto was a glittering, towering, terrifying, unstoppable force, exacting and precise and relentless against injustice, but he slept pretty.

This morning, however, the sun slanted across freckled shoulders, too. Their surprise guest was tucked and tangled up into Shouto’s long limbs, curls spilling across his forehead, full lips crushed slightly against the hero’s collarbone.

Katsuki ached in his most intimate places, and it was hard to believe, in the light of day, that this tender, sleeping nerd was responsible.

As one final anniversary present to Shouto, Katsuki found his phone and snapped a picture.

After a few cat stretches, Katsuki put on pajama pants and stalked stiffly to the kitchen. He busied his hands with the kettle, pulled things out of the fridge, and thought back to last night.

………....

“Deku is my fucking hero name.”

“Thought you were quirkless,” rasped Katsuki, straining against the blaze of arousal that gripped him, but not fighting the scarred hand that pressed his face sideways into the bed.

“Oh, I am. But for a quirkless nerd with three jobs, I have a certain...aptitude for helping powerful people relax.”

Deku slipped an index finger into Katsuki’s mouth just as a moan slipped out, likely due to the deliberate downward friction of Deku’s hips.

“And I deserve a hero name for helping others, don’t you think?”

Katsuki Bakugou, best known for devastating explosive power unwavering strength, released a sound some would categorize as a whimper.

Shouto’s mouth had fallen open a while ago.

“So that bartender called you Deku because…”

A wicked smile crossed his face and Izuku rolled his hips again, abs rippling in the low light of the bedroom. Shouto swallowed.

“Tokoyami’s quirk is a shadow monster that lives inside him and feeds off of darkness. Believe me, we are all lucky he turned to mixology instead of evil.”

A flash of the sweet, nerdy guy they’d brought home seemed to surface for an instant, until he leaned forward over Katsuki.

“Tell me, Ground Zero, have you ever made a man and the demon inside him beg you to let them come?” He licked Katsuki’s ear, his voice a gritty whisper. “In public?”

A desperate ‘fuck,’ fell from Shouto’s lips, and Katsuki’s hips bucked as he choked a little around Deku’s finger.

“Now you see why I couldn’t let you pay for anything there, don’t you?”

Shouto watched, dumbfounded, as a second finger joined the first, dipping in and out of Katsuki’s mouth, slick and demanding. Deku’s other hand was buried in blonde hair, a thumb tracing posessively across his exposed forehead, at once reverent and aggressive.

“Fuck, Shouto, your husband is so pretty.”

Deku finally released Katsuki’s mouth, and lazily stroked himself with his slick fingers. His right hand smoothed down Katsuki’s neck and chest, which rose and fell with want. Crimson eyes glittered up at him, waiting and watching.

He pressed a sweet, delicious kiss to Katsuki’s mouth, the delicacy at odds with the power clearly simmering under his skin.

“Can I call you Kacchan when we’re like this?”

Katsuki stared up at the man on top of him, who had grown several inches in the last few minutes, in many senses of the word.

“Yes,” breathed Katsuki. His eyes rolled as Deku ground down again, just so.

“Yes, Deku,” his captor supplied, casually rolling a taut nipple between his scarred fingers.

“ I–– ah! Y-yes, Deku.” Katsuki’s eyes closed as he gasped and then groaned.

“Unfuckingbelievable,” rasped Shouto.

“Deku doesn’t usually come out to play on a first encounter,” Izuku mused quietly, slowly rubbing a thumb across Katsuki’s lower lip.

His eyes were hooded and dark, pools of deep, mysterious green.

“I guess Kacchan is just special.”

………

Shoto opened his eyes slowly. He was sprawled in bed, naked, washed in warm sunlight, and it was Saturday. He stretched, toes curling, discovering a residual ache in his lower back that he didn’t mind one bit.

The confusing thing was that Izuku Midoriya was hopping into his pants. He caught Shoto looking and froze in place.

“Where’re you going?” murmured Shoto, propping himself up on his elbows. His hair was rumpled, the white side smushed flat and the red sticking up everywhere. He still managed to look like a painting, his skin patterned with long stripes of morning light.

“Um, I thought I should, y-y’know–– leave?” Izuku looked sheepish. His eyes lingered longingly on Shoto, then dropped to his own toes on the floor. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome, and it’s still your anniversary weekend, so you probably don’t get that much time off together, so I really didn't mean to sleep so long, I’ll just um, y’know, get out of your––”

“The fuck you think you’re going?”

Izuku looked up, and his mouth dropped open.

Ground Zero wore glasses.

“Uhm, I th-thought––” but Izuku couldn’t really make words.

Katsuki snorted, then set a cup of milky coffee on the nightstand and kissed Shoto tenderly. Straightening up, he crossed his arms.

“You gotta teach toddlers how to shake martinis on Saturday fucking morning?”

Izuku closed his mouth, then opened it again.

Shoto sat up, arranging a pillow to prop himself comfortably against the headboard.

“What Katsuki is trying to say is how do you like your coffee and won’t you stay for breakfast?” He took a sip of his coffee and sighed with pleasure, giving Katsuki an affectionate smile.

“No pressure, jeez,” Katsuki muttered.

Izuku exhaled, twisting his shirt in his hands as a blush of embarrassed relief spread blotchily up his neck and chest.

“Just black coffee is fine, thanks,” he said softly, then looked up at them, a rueful smile morphing into a grin.

“Tch.” Katsuki disappeared again.

Shoto patted the spot beside him.

“Welcome to our thrilling secret life,” he said, smiling.

Izuku giggled and shucked off his pants again, just in time for Katsuki to reappear with another cup of coffee.

“Don’t get too fucking comfortable, breakfast is ready in ten,” Katsuki grumbled, but he propped up a pillow for Izuku as he said it.

…….

Once they got Izuku to stop snooping through their condiments (“Ground Zero’s legendary hot sauce collection!!”), breakfast was comfortable and easy. Shoto commandeered Izuku’s coffee while he flapped his hands over the fluffiness of Katsuki’s scrambled eggs.

When they were done, Shouto started the dishes. He somehow managed to look completely elegant in just briefs and an oversized white cable knit sweater, and Izuku had to shake himself out of staring.

He smiled as he cleared the table on autopilot. Izuku layered dishes over his scarred arms, switching his balance easily around the corners, head on a swivel to deliver his armload to the sink and then rush back out again like a wave on the beach.

Katsuki snagged Izuku’s waist and tugged him down onto his lap, interrupting the rhythm. He wrapped his arms around Izuku firmly and stuck his nose behind his ear, smelling that heady, grassy smell and printing a series of kisses on the tender skin.

Izuku giggled and gasped, as a shiver made him squirm in Katsuki’s lap.

“You’re so easy to rile up,” Katsuki commented, as if he wasn’t leaving increasingly wicked kisses down Izuku’s neck, and spreading his legs apart with both hands.

“You, are, evil,” managed Izuku, laughing and struggling to keep his balance. His throat was already pink from the attention. “I’m trying to help Shouto clean up.”

“Those are called manners, Kat, you should take notes,” called Shouto from the kitchen. Izuku suspected he used his quirk to keep the dish water very hot, and something about that made his stomach curl with longing.

“But as our guest, we should be serving you,” Katsuku drawled, his hands creeping ever further up Izuku’s spread thighs. The man in his lap tensed and squirmed again, grinding down on a particular spot.

In the tiny instant it took Katsuki to gasp at the pressure, Izuku had escaped him and turned around, settling down onto his lap again. The clink and splash of the dishes stopped.

“It’s ok, Kacchan,” he said quietly, and felt a twitch beneath him. “You thanked me plenty last night.”

“I will never forget that,” remarked Shouto, who looked on.

“Careful, Freckles, or I’ll make you sign an NDA.” Katsuki’s fingers crept down suggestively around Izuku’s ass, regaining his advantage and an indignant squawk. “Besides, you haven’t gotten the Swedish sauna treatment.”

“Wh-what’s th-hat?” Izuku’s head dropped back, as his arms tightened around Katsuki’s neck.

“Oh, Shouto will make everything very clear.” And with that, Katsuki stood, dumping Izuku back onto his feet.

“You’re so bad,” Shouto said, accepting a triumphant kiss from his husband before he disappeared into their bedroom.

Katsuki reappeared a minute later, in shorts and a workout top, one earbud already in.

“It’s time for my husband to act on the big, floppy crush he has on you, so I’m going to go for a run.” Katsuki grabbed Izuku for one filthy, aggressive kiss, and smacked Shouto’s ass. “Don’t leave any marks he can’t explain to his next table of heroes.”

And he disappeared out the front door.

Izuku looked stunned. “Is he...ok?”

Shouto nodded. “Katsuki can only stand other people for so long, no matter how entertaining or married to him they are.”

He smiled to himself, and reached out to tuck a curl behind Izuku’s ear. “And he has some self-reflection to do after last night, thanks to you.”

Izuku blanched. “Did I do something wrong? Did he not like–-”

“He liked it very much,” Shouto cut him off. “That’s the thing. Trust us both to be consenting adults about this, Izuku.” His voice was crisp and clear.

“Ok.” Izuku still sounded doubtful.

Shouto cupped his cheek, and his gaze was soft, reassuring. “I’ve known Katsuki for a very long time, and he always has to process vulnerability in his own way, at his own pace.”

Izuku’s face flickered through about six microexpressions, as his mind tried to fit puzzle pieces together. A light tug on a lock of hair brought his eyes up to Shouto’s again.

“He's right, you know.” Shouto brought his other hand to Izuku’s face, and stepped back, putting his back against a wall. Izuku stumbled forward a step, caught in Shouto’s hands and gaze.

“Right about what?” His voice was breathy.

“I have a big, floppy crush on you, Izuku Midoriya.” Shouto’s eyes simmered, a low heat burning blue and grey. Izuku could feel the mild temperature flares of his palms, cool and hot on either side of his jaw, pressed against the quickened pulse in his neck.

A cool thumb tip traced across Izuku’s lower lip, then pressed down to smear it open along his teeth.

“You don’t have to go yet, do you?” Shouto licked his own lips, and tugged Izuku that much closer, flush against him, pinning Izuku’s hands flat on his chest.

“Not yet,” said Izuku, his breaths escaping erratic and humid from his open mouth. Those green eyes were dark again, soft and glazed and wide.

“Katsuki got so much of you last night,” Shouto said, almost into Izuku’s mouth. His big hands surrounded Izuku’s head, had him craning up to look at him, held Izuku’s weight and balance in his palms.

“It’s my turn.”

A moan of want echoed in the still house, and Shouto claimed Izuku’s mouth for himself.

….….

Katsuki ran.

Restlessness and an itch of messy feelings crawled across his shoulders.

His feet hit the pavement. His lungs caught up to the rhythm they set. The burn soothed him, so that his mind could wander.

The ache in his ass and hips wasn’t wholly unfamiliar, but it had been a while.

Sex was always about Shouto. The most profound joy of his life was being enough for that man. That long, powerful form, the unattainable gracefulness, the raw, elemental nature of his powers. And especially the cool, sophisticated curtain that Katsuki got to fling wide to expose the warm, funny person so few people got to see.

Heat crawled up Katsuki’s neck like a bug. He’d watched Shoto actually drool when Izuku –– fucking Deku, that is –– had held his head down, had named him Kacchan. Had claimed him.

Katsuki’s old self wanted to scream and rage and blow up his neighbor’s house, to match his inner chaos.

But his neighbor was a high ranking government official, and he wasn’t a petulant fucking teenager anymore.

Was he jealous? If so, it was his own damn fault. He, Katsuki, had woven the web, had asked the important questions, had been a fucking five-year-anniversary hero about it. Katsuki loved to watch Shoto want things, and especially loved to be the person to give them to him.

And Izuku made Shoto open like a flower.

But it wasn’t jealousy. It wasn’t a poisonous feeling, though it raised a lump in his throat. It wasn’t just desire, though that flared across his skin, too.

Katsuki always took the lead. He was the country’s #1 hero, for fuck’s sake.

He gave and gave of his body and time and concern and adrenaline and he made Shoto come six ways to Sunday, and he was sure he existed when he was making a difference, and yet ––

“You deserve to be obedient sometimes, Kacchan.”

Shit. That had stabbed him through the gut. And the heart. And the dick.

The nerd was cute. So cute that Katsuki wanted to bite him, consume him. He had a childish urge to push him into a mud puddle and make him cry, just for the pleasure of comforting him again.

But then, he also wasn’t cute.

…..

“Pay attention, Kacchan.” This was a little cruel, because of where Deku’s fingers were, and what they were doing.

Kacchan was paying attention. His heart was about to beat out of his fucking chest with goddamn attention.

He was prone, throbbing, his ass spread by strong hands, that voice of soothing command so close to him that Deku’s breath made him clench with suggestion.

Meanwhile, his eyes were fixed on his husband’s goods, those long legs spread wide right in front of his face.

“Whatever I do to you, you’re going to do for Shouto, do you understand?”

“Y-yes, Deku.”

Shouto twitched in front of him, and hitched one leg even higher in anticipation.

“Let’s try it, then. If I do this––” Deku gave Katsuki a short, purposeful lick.

Katsuki gasped. He had to focus through the lust, and it was impossible and necessary and so good, and he wanted to be good at it.

He gave Shouto a matching lick, and his husband whined.

“Very good, Kacchan,” Deku crooned, and Katsuki felt a glow in his chest. “You’re going to spoil us.”

The game began in earnest, then. Deku’s tongue licked, swirled, and probed, the pressure and wetness and pace enough to make Katsuki’s eyes roll back, but no, he had to match, he had to copy, he had to lick and swirl and consume Shoto with the same abandon –– the room seemed to echo with moans –– no, his own body echoed with moans–– and his own cock hung between his legs, aching in the best, most infuriating way.

“Shoto, baby, pass me the–– perfect, thank you.”

Deku’s mouth slowed its onslaught, and Katsuki slowed his, gasping with need, for touch and oxygen and more orders.

“Kacchan.” Deku’s hips were firm against his butt, cock slotted between his spit-slick ass cheeks. Hands rubbed slow and soothing up and down his sides and back.

“Can I fuck you?”

The energy in the room went taught, and only breathing bounced off the walls.

His eyes slowly focused on Shoto’s bellybutton, then ran up his chest and found the blissed out, bright-eyed, bi-colored love look on his favorite face in the world.

Shoto caressed his face with one hand, cool despite the quirk suppressants. His eyebrow raised, echoing the question.

“Yes.” The word pushed itself from his lips. Katsuki knew he was on his way to disheveled and blubbering, and he didn’t care.

“Yes what?” Deku still didn’t move.

“Yes, Deku. You can f-fuck me,” Katsuki stuttered, steadied by Shoto’s hand and gaze.

Fingertips dug into Katsuki’s hips, as Deku growled with pleasure. His voice was gritty.

“Don’t you dare come before me or Shouto, Kacchan.”
……

Kacchan stumbled, tripped, and face planted onto the pavement.

“Fucking fuck.” He brushed gravel from his knees and kept going, ears burning with embarrassment. “Get it together, hero.”

……

Meanwhile, Shoto and Izuku lurched, crab-like, towards the bedroom, lips locked together.

Shoto’s mouth was so sure, so demanding, that Izuku knew he was going to be consumed.

He stuck his hands up under Shoto’s sweater and relished the feeling of his torso, so strong and smooth, with flares of heat and cold seeming to move under his skin.

They shuffled against a wall and Shoto stripped off Izuku’s shirt, pinning his wrists above his head and rolling their hips together.

“Gods help me,” Shoto breathed, dragging his lips across Izuku’s collarbones, then pressing his mouth to the pounding pulse in his neck.

Izuku just panted, the whines and whimpers coming from his mouth completely outside of his control.

“P-please,” he managed, not sure how many things was even asking for.

Shoto pulled off his sweater, and Izuku’s knees wobbled at the sight. Late morning light caught Shoto’s body, outlining muscle and bone and the long lines of him in nothing but his black cotton underwear.

The next thing Izuku knew, they were on the bed again. He lay back on the pillows and gasped when Shoto peeled off Izuku’s briefs and then sat back on his heels, just to look.

Shoto bit down and tasted his own kiss-swollen lip, taking deep breaths.

“Someday, I’m going to tie you up,” he said, and his mouth twitched with a smile as Izuku’s eyes widened, and the blush on his chest spread further up his neck.

“But for now…” He slowly straddled Izuku, taking his hands. “I want you to just hold on, ok?”

“Ok.” Izuku let his hands be guided up to the headboard, and he held on, chest jumping with quick, excited breaths. His big eyes gazed up at Shoto, trusting but curious.

“Beautiful, my god,” Shoto murmured, sitting back to admire the body on display for him, a piece of art for an audience of one.

Izuku held fast, as he was told, but squirmed again, trying to buck his hips against the exposure.

“Touch me, Shoto, please,” he begged.

An intimate eagerness settled onto Shoto’s face at that. He ran his hands up Izuku’s chest, and Izuku shivered violently as the different temperatures met his skin, as Shoto’s graceful hands found and rolled his nipples firmly between fingertips.

“F-fuck m-me-heee,” Izuku sighed, his head pressing back helplessly into the pillows.

“That is the plan, sweet,” Shoto smiled, then kissed any further conversation out of the way.
……..

Katsuki finally stopped running at the park he liked best. It was usually empty because either a) it was a lame, dirty park with nothing but rusted out workout bars or b) despite his number 1 hero status, people were still lowkey terrified didn’t want to interrupt Ground Zero’s explosion-filled workouts.

He started a circuit. He just wanted to pound out push ups in the dirt until his mind went blank.

But his mind would not go blank.
…....

Katsuki was sweating, his body thrumming with heat and openness, mind swirling but wordless as he tried to sync his mouth with Deku’s thrusts.

He cried out, and Shoto’s cock slapped down onto his belly.

“Help him for me, Shouto,” came Deku’s voice, hands tight on Katsuki’s hips.

He stopped moving until Katsuki’s mouth was full once more, sinking down as far as he could as Deku thrust into him from behind, gaining speed.

Shouto’s hand was in his hair, gripping tight, groans were so guttural that Katsuki could feel them in his mouth.

He was drooling, panting, almost choking, the universe shrunk to just his body, his only purpose to hold back the tsunami building in his––

“AH––K-KACCHAN–!"
…..

A flock of birds startled out of the trees as a series of explosions went off in the park.

A high ranking government official glanced up from the crossword and frowned. In his last house, he would report such a disturbance, but now his neighbor was a pro hero.

…….

Shoto felt like he was ten feet tall.

Izuku was putty under his mouth and hands, so he pulled out all of his tricks.

He pressed his cold tongue to Izuku’s hot throat, and Izuku gasped.

He warmed his left hand and gripped Izuku around his base and balls, and was rewarded by a throaty groan, and the whites of Izuku’s eyes bright against his pink face.

Shoto held fast and kissed down the freckled expanse of Izuku’s flushed skin, relishing the raggedness of his breaths, the insistent, unending whine and wiggle that was becoming almost rhythmic, punctuated by twitches and gasps when Shoto’s teeth met muscle, or when his lips finally tasted the red and ready tip of Izuku’s cock.

“Sho–– aaAAAHHhh!”

It was hard to give a proper blowjob with such a smile on his face, but Shoto was diligent.

He couldn’t get enough of this man. Shoto couldn’t help but stroke himself and his own ego as Izuku babbled for more, yes, please, his skin smooth and hot, his pretty head tossing impatiently as he white-knuckled the headboard.

Shoto obliged –– detached just long enough to grab supplies –– then took Izuku in his mouth again.

“Oh my ––fuck, Shoto, go-dAAaah!” he wailed, as long, cool fingers pressed into him, one, and then another, meeting the pace of Shoto’s mouth, turned hot and wild.

Shoto sucked and stretched and gasped when his own cock bobbed against the sheets, so hard he had to pull away and let out a cloud of steam.

Izuku’s lips were wet and parted, and his eyes glittered with a combination of awe and lust that electrified Shoto, fanning the flames that much more.

His hands shook as he rolled on a condom and helped himself to another drizzle of lube, gaze flitting back to Izuku’s face.

“Yes?” he asked, a hand on Izuku’s thigh. His voice was a rasp.

“Yes,” breathed Izuku, whose abs rippled as he unabashedly hiked up his knees, ready.

“Oh fuck, yes.”

…….

Katsuki returned home, sweaty and dirty and not nearly as relaxed as he’d hoped to be after a night of incredible sex and a long run.

The house was quiet, but Izuku’s red shoes were still by the door, and a stitch of Katsuki’s tension loosened.

He yanked off his shirt and swiped at his face and neck, passing the puddle of Shoto’s sweater on the floor. Katsuki’s pulse quickened as he arrived at the bedroom, and stopped inside the doorway.

Shoto blinked slowly at Katsuki, a deeply satisfied expression on his face. He raised a finger to his lips, which spread into a smile.

Izuku was fast asleep, naked and curled around a pillow, his back nestled against Shoto’s chest.

Katsuki snorted, and let a soft grin replace yet more of the tension he’d been clinging onto.

“Good fucking work, IcyHot,” he drawled, and they both had to cover their mouths, shaking with silent laughter.

When they recovered, Shoto gave him a once over. “You ok?”

Katsuki shrugged and chewed on the inside of his mouth, eyes resting on Izuku.

“I don’t fucking know, Sho.”

Shoto gently extricated himself from the bed and came around to his husband, pulling him into a hug.

“Yeah, I know how you feel.”

Katsuki leaned into the hug, tucking his chin over Shoto’s shoulder.

“Damn, you smell,” Shoto complained, trying to pull away again.

Katsuki grinned and clung on, rubbing himself against Shoto’s nakedness and snickering. “Nah, you smell, I stink.”

“Insufferable man,” Shoto said fondly. “Go take a fucking shower.”

……..

“Hey, nerd, wake up.”

Izuku’s eyes fluttered open to find Katsuki’s face inches from his. He jerked back, inhaling sharply.

“What the f––”

“Oh for heaven’s –– Katsuki, you dick. Move.”

Katsuki was still snickering like a teenager. Izuku glared at him, but it only made him laugh more.

Shoto set down a glass of water and smiled softly at Izuku. “It’s almost noon, we didn’t want to let you sleep through anything.”

“When did I...oh,” said Izuku, looking up at Shoto and blushing. Shoto’s eyes glittered with amusement.

“Indeed.”

Katsuki made an exasperated noise and grabbed Shoto by the arm. “Jesus, Fuck, enough with the flirting. Let him fucking shower.”

“I’ll be right out, thanks,” Izuku said, scrubbing a hand over his face. He could hear his phone buzzing, and instinctively knew it was Ochako.

When he came out to the living room, he was fresh and dewy and back in all of the clothes he arrived in. Katsuki and Shoto were lounging on their couch, talking in low voices, but they stopped when he arrived.

Izuku slapped a smile on his face and tried to barrel through the awkwardness. “Uhm, well, thank you for–”

“Gimme yer phone.” Katsuki stuck out his hand.

“Uhm, ok.” Izuku unlocked his phone and handed it over. Shoto caught his wrist and tugged, eyes inviting him to the couch.

Katsuki held out the phone and glowered at it, snapping a selfie before typing away. He handed it back to Izuku resolutely.

“Come to dinner next week.”

“Wait, really?” Izuku’s face lit up with happy disbelief, even as he let Shoto pull him down onto his lap.

Katsuki snorted. “Seven on Monday work for you?”

“I mean, yeah, but...really? Like, really really? You’re not saying that to be polite?”

Matching expressions of disbelief stared back at him, and he giggled.

“Ok, I’d like that.”

Katsuki gave Shoto a self-satisfied expression, and Shoto rolled his eyes. They all stood and walked Izuku to the door, where he stuffed his feet into his red sneakers.

He kissed Shoto first, long and sweet.

“Take care, ok?” Shoto tucked a curl behind Izuku’s ear.

Katsuki interrupted by grabbing Izuku for a hard kiss of his own, with probably more tongue than necessary. He pulled back and smirked.

“Tell that cute hostess how big my dick is.”

“Katsuki!”

Izuku tossed his head back and laughed.

“Oh, I will.”