Archive of Our Own ^beta

The villain hit the floor with a loud thump, scrambling to his feet just as Izuku lunged forward. Blackwhip shot out, dark green tendrils lashing around the man’s ankle. With a sharp tug, Izuku yanked him off balance, quirk-canceling cuffs already in hand.

In a last-ditch effort, the villain activated his Quirk.

He reached out—grabbing Izuku’s scarred cheek.

Izuku barely had time to react before the villain’s palm began to heat up. Not enough to burn, but enough to feel—a warmth that pulsed strangely through his skin.

Still, Izuku snapped the cuffs closed with practiced speed, dragging the subdued villain toward the waiting police officers.

“Hero Deku, it’s nice to see you,” said an officer Izuku didn’t recognize.

“Hi… yeah,” Izuku mumbled, his words slower than usual. “Nice to see you too.”

The officer said something else, but Izuku didn’t catch it. His vision swam.

Then came the pain.

It started at his cheek—tiny pinpricks of fire—and spread. Down his neck. Across his shoulders. Crawling like needles under his skin: arms, ribs, stomach, hips, legs.

Then nothing.

Izuku crumpled to the pavement, the impact jarring, familiar. The same sound the villain had made when he’d hit the ground moments earlier.

“Deku? Hero Deku, can you hear me?”

That was the last thing he heard before everything went black.

⸻

“Hello?”
A rough voice answered the phone.

“Hi, yes. Are you Katsuki Bakugo?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Well, it says here that you’re Izuku Midoriya’s emergency contact.”

“What’s the shitty nerd gotten himself into this time?” Katsuki asked, already pacing through the apartment, tossing a water bottle into the sink with a clatter.

The woman’s voice faltered. “Well…”

“Well what?” he snapped. “Fuckin’ tell me. Break a bone? Head injury? Sprained wrist?”

There was a pause. “No, actually. He… passed out during a villain arrest. He’s in the hospital. Still unconscious.”

Her voice was tentative, like she was afraid Katsuki might explode.

He did.

“What hospital?”
He was already grabbing his keys. “I’m coming now.”

⸻

Izuku woke to the sensation of a thousand needles driving into his skin, every nerve lit up like a live wire. His entire body buzzed—no, burned—as if he were being electrocuted from the inside out.

His eyes flew open.

A scream ripped from his throat, raw and uncontrollable.

Nurses flooded into the room. One grabbed his wrist gently.

“Hero Deku? Hero Deku, you need to calm down. What’s the matter?”

He couldn’t hear them. Not really. Everything was muffled—like his ears were packed with cotton—and the pain drowned out every word, every thought.

It felt like Denki had zapped him on repeat, over and over again, without letting up.

Tears blurred his vision. His voice cracked.

“Hurt… hurts… Make it—make it stop. Please…”
The words came out choked, broken, through gritted teeth.

Then the door burst open.

“Deku!”

A voice—familiar, furious—cut through the noise.

“Deku, calm down! I’m here!”

“Kacchan?” Izuku rasped, turning his head toward the voice. “Kacchan, is… is that you?”

“Yeah, nerd. It’s me. I’m here.”

And then—he felt it.

A hand, rough and warm, wrapping around his own.

The pain receded instantly.

First, it left his fingers. Then his palm. His wrist. Arm. Shoulder. Neck. Head. Chest. Heart. Stomach. Legs. Feet.

Gone.

Just like that—gone.

Katsuki’s hand was still wrapped tightly around his.

“You okay, nerd?”

Izuku hummed weakly. “Mmhmm… Doesn’t hurt…”

One of the nurses said something to Katsuki, but Izuku didn’t catch it.

He was already slipping under again, this time not from agony—but from the soft, safe lull of relief.

⸻

“Mr. Midoriya?”

An unfamiliar voice pulled him from the throes of sleep.

Izuku cracked his eyes open, only to immediately squint shut again as harsh fluorescent lights hit him.

“Deku.”

“Kacchan…?”

“Hey. Welcome back,” the unfamiliar voice said again, calm but alert.

“Where… where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital,” the man replied. “I’m Dr. Rao. You were hit by a quirk.”

“A quirk?” Izuku asked, finally blinking his eyes open and attempting to sit up.

“Easy, nerd,” Katsuki said, placing a hand on his shoulder—not pushing him down, but halting him gently.

“The villain you fought earlier had a quirk that triggers affection-based neurological dependency,” the doctor explained. “Which means your body and mind have been rewired to require physical touch from the person you emotionally prioritizes most—or, in more human terms, the person you love the most.”

“This could be the touch of a friend, a family member, or a romantic partner.”

“Oh…” Izuku muttered.

Katsuki didn’t say a word. His face was twisted into a half-scowl, half-bewildered stare.

“When the fuck does it go away?” he finally snapped.

“Well,” Dr. Rao said, “that depends entirely on Mr. Midoriya. It’s not lethal, but to the person under the influence of the quirk, it can feel like life or death. Mr. Midoriya can build up a physical touch tolerance over time, meaning he can go longer and longer without it until the quirk fades—or, if the emotional need is fulfilled, it may disappear altogether.”

“It really depends on how his body reacts to it.”

“What the fuck?” Katsuki muttered again. “What am I supposed to do? Sit around touching him all damn day?”

“Not necessarily,” the doctor said gently. “But the longer he goes without touch, the worse it gets. That’s probably why he woke up in so much pain. He doesn’t need constant contact, but he does need some. How much or how often depends on him.”

Izuku hadn’t spoken since the initial explanation, still trying to process the weight of it all.

He gently pulled his hand away from Katsuki’s.

Almost immediately, he felt it—like static crawling under his skin. A low rumble of something electric laced into his muscles. It wasn’t agonizing, but it wasn’t ignorable either.

“I’m okay right now, Kacchan,” Izuku said softly. “I know this isn’t ideal. I’ll try to get over it as fast as I can.”

Dr. Rao chimed in again. “Until then, you’ll be discharged into Mr. Bakugo’s care. I also recommend you call your agency and request a leave of absence—for both of you. At least until Mr. Midoriya can go without physical contact safely.”

“Yeah,” Katsuki grunted, his voice rough as gravel. “I’ll call ’em later. When can he leave?”

“You just have to sign some discharge paperwork and he can be released today.”

“I’ll sign the shitty papers. I hate hospitals.”

The doctor let out a small chuckle. “Yeah, I can show you where they are—just up front.”

Katsuki stood and looked back at Izuku. There was something raw in his eyes. Something worried.

“You fine, nerd?”

“I’m fine, Kacchan,” Izuku said with a soft smile.

The same fake smile he wore for interviews. For the media. The one he put on when he was falling apart and no one could know.

As soon as the door closed, Izuku rolled over in his hospital bed, face flushed with embarrassment. He shoved his head into the pillow, muffling his voice.

“This can’t be happening… Kacchan’s gonna kill me if he finds out… that I like him… that I love him…”

He kept mumbling into the pillow, cheeks burning, his voice barely more than a whisper — but still frantic.

By the time Katsuki finished signing the discharge papers and slid the door back open, Izuku was still half-buried in the mattress.

“Deku?”

Izuku shot upright like he’d just been caught red-handed — the exact way a kid would when his hand’s stuck in the cookie jar.

“It’s time to go,” Katsuki said, serious. “Think you can walk?”

“Yeah. I can walk,” Izuku said quickly, sliding to the edge of the bed.

“Um… Kacchan?” he added, hesitantly.

“Yeah, nerd?”

“Where… are my shoes?”

“Oh.” Katsuki scratched the back of his neck. “All your hero gear had to go back for repairs. That includes your shoes. You don’t have any.”

He turned toward the door. “Let me go ask the nurse for a pair of socks or something.”

“The grippy kind?” Izuku asked, his voice jumping an octave with sudden excitement.

Katsuki turned his head, deadpan. “Yeah, nerd. The grippy kind.”

“Kacchan?”

“Yes, nerd?”

“Can you ask for two pairs?”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “You’re so damn needy.”

“Kacchan’s the best.”

“You’re damn right I am,” he grumbled as he stepped out of the room.

Maybe… maybe Izuku would enjoy this more than he originally thought.

⸻

“Here, Deku,” Katsuki said when he returned. “I got you the socks. Put ’em on and let’s go.”

Izuku slid the gray grippy socks over his feet and stood. Katsuki was already walking ahead, and Izuku followed — blindly, obediently. Trusting.

But after a few seconds, he started to glance around.

“Kacchan? This… isn’t the way to the exit.”

“You’re right, nerd,” Katsuki said without turning. “We gotta stop at the pharmacy to pick up your meds.”

“Oh. But… aren’t you like my own pain med?”

Katsuki stopped mid-step and slowly turned back around. His ears were tinted red.

“Don’t say cheesy shit like that, nerd.”

Izuku giggled.

“And no, the pain can still linger, according to the shitty extra.”

“Kacchan! You can’t call the doctor that.”

“Tch. Whatever. Let’s keep walking.”

He grabbed Izuku by the wrist and tugged him along like a stubborn toddler.

Izuku would normally complain — insist that he didn’t need to be dragged and could walk just fine on his own — but the feeling of Katsuki’s hand on him was immediate, grounding.

It didn’t make the ache vanish completely, but it calmed it. Eased it.

They arrived at the pharmacy counter. Katsuki took the two bottles from the attendant while she explained, “This one’s for when he’s in pain, and this other one’s for the minor concussion he sustained when he passed out.”

Katsuki nodded once, already walking toward the exit.

“Okay, Kacchan,” Izuku said, trailing behind him.

Izuku and Katsuki finally made it back to their apartment.

The moment Izuku stepped inside, exhaustion slammed into him. The events of the day finally caught up. He dragged himself across the living room like a zombie and collapsed face-first onto the couch with a dramatic crash.

Katsuki, locking the door behind him, glanced over.
“I’m gonna call the agency,” he said. “Tell ’em we’ll be out for a while.”

“Okay, Kacchan,” Izuku mumbled, voice muffled against the cushions.

“You hungry, Zuku?” Katsuki asked, already reaching for his phone.

That got Izuku to stir. He rolled over slowly, blinking.
“Ooh, yeah. Can you make chicken curry?” he asked. “But not spicy like last time.”

Katsuki snorted as he scrolled through his contacts.
“I didn’t make it spicy. You’re just a wimp.”

Izuku pouted. “That’s mean, Kacchan.”

“It’s still true.”

Then the line clicked, and Katsuki brought the phone to his ear.
“Yeah? I’m callin’ in for me and Deku,” he said bluntly. “You probably heard—he got hit with a quirk, so we’re gonna be out for a while.”

“Yes, Mr. Dynamight, sir! The hospital already notified us,” the voice on the other end replied. “We all hope Deku recovers quickly.”

“Yeah,” Katsuki muttered. “Sure.”

“Just call when you’re ready to return, and we’ll get you both back on patrol.”

“Mhm. Thanks.” Katsuki hung up before she could finish her sentence.

He tossed his phone onto the counter, but Izuku’s voice, quieter now, caught his attention.

“Kacchan…”

Katsuki turned.

Izuku was curled up on the couch, tucked into a tight ball, his voice trembling.
“I don’t… I don’t feel good.”

Katsuki’s heart jumped to his throat.
“Shit. Okay. What do you need? What do I do?”

“Can you… can you hold my hand? Like you did in the hospital?”

“Yeah. Fuck. Yeah. Gimme your hand.” Katsuki moved fast, reaching out and wrapping his hand around Izuku’s. Their fingers laced together just like before.

Izuku closed his eyes, but his body still squirmed uncomfortably.

“It’s not enough,” he whispered.

Katsuki clenched his jaw. “Okay. Okay… What do you want me to do, Zuku?”

Izuku hesitated. Then, soft and shaky,
“Can I… have a hug?”

Katsuki stilled. Just for a second. Then he nodded.
“Yeah. Come on, Zuku. Stand up.”

Izuku slowly pushed himself upright. Katsuki stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him—one tight around his waist, the other threading gently into his hair. Izuku’s arms looped around Katsuki’s neck, clinging.

The static that buzzed under Izuku’s skin started to fade, leaving his body warm, like laundry fresh out of the dryer—still a little crackly, but soft. Comforting.

Katsuki ran his fingers through Izuku’s hair and gave a reassuring squeeze at his waist.

“Zuku?” he murmured.

Izuku hummed. “Hmm?”

“You okay?”

“I’m okay,” he whispered.

“Do you think I can let go now, Zuku?” Katsuki asked, still holding him close.

Deku didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was soft and tired.

“Yeah, Kacchan.”

They pulled apart, and Katsuki moved toward the kitchen to start grabbing ingredients. Izuku stayed close, settling on the counter with his eyes closed, breathing slow and steady.

“You good, nerd?” the blond called, already chopping spring onions with practiced ease.

“Sorry… I know you hate missing work,” Izuku murmured, not opening his eyes. “And now you have to stay home with me, and just—”

“Stop it, Izuku.”

“But Kacchan—”

“No, Zuku.” Katsuki cut him off again, voice firm but not unkind. “I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. You got hit by a quirk. Now you need me. I’m not just gonna leave you while you’re in pain.”

He set the knife down and turned fully toward him. “Izuku. Look at me.”

Katsuki stepped forward, reaching out to gently place two fingers under Izuku’s chin and tilt his face up. Their eyes met.

“I don’t mind helping you,” he said. “I don’t mind missing work. Fuck, we deserve a break. We haven’t had one since we became Pro Heroes.”

Katsuki chuckled, but Izuku still looked uneasy.

“I know, Kacchan. I just… I hate that the first time you had to take off work was because of me.”

“It was always gonna be because of you, Izuku.” Katsuki’s tone softened. “There’s no one else in the damn world who could convince me. Whether you got hit with a quirk or just asked me to go on vacation… the first time I took off work was always gonna be for you.”

He stepped back toward the counter. “Now, you look like you’re about to pass the fuck out. So let me finish dinner so we can get your nerd ass to bed.”

Izuku huffed a quiet laugh. “Okay, Kacchan,” he said, a smile tugging at his voice. “But don’t make it spicy.”

“No promises, nerd.”

“Kacchan,” Izuku whined.

Soon, Katsuki was working with practiced ease, tossing tomatoes, curry powder, and ground ginger into the pan. He let it simmer for three or four minutes before adding the chicken, stirring to coat it in the rich sauce. A splash of water helped bring it to a boil, and while the chicken cooked, he turned his attention to the rice.

All the while, he kept a steady stream of conversation going—just enough to keep Izuku from dozing off on the counter.

“You hear about Denki?” Izuku mumbled, eyelids drooping. “Overused his quirk again. Stayed the night at Shinso’s place.”

Katsuki snorted as he stirred the pot. “No fuckin’ way. Eyebags likes Dunceface?”

“Kacchan,” Izuku whined, cracking a lazy smile, “his name is Shinso. But yeah, he does.”

“I did not see that coming.” Katsuki chuckled, setting the spoon down. “Seriously?”

“Of course! You have to see the way he looks at him.”

“Yeah, I do see him—all the fuckin’ time. He looks like he’s tired of his shit.”

Izuku laughed. “Kacchan, that’s just his face.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Food’s almost ready. You grab the plates?”

“Yeah, I got them,” Izuku replied, hopping down from the counter and padding toward the cabinets.

Katsuki served up the food, and they ate in quiet peace. It wasn’t awkward—it was calming. Comfortable. Familiar.

When they finished, Katsuki washed the dishes and left them in the sink to dry. He wiped his hands on the dish towel and glanced around.

“Deku?” he called out.

No answer.

“Deku,” he said louder, walking toward the hallway.

Then he heard it—faint giggling coming from his bedroom.

“What the…”

He approached the door. “Izuku, you better not be in my bed again.”

Behind the closed door came muffled yelling.

“But Kacchan! Your bed is so comfortable!”

Katsuki groaned and pushed open the door. “My bed is comfortable because it’s not full of your goddamn All Might memorabilia.”

“Kacchan, they’re limited edition bedsheets!”

“You’re a grown-ass man, Izuku.”

“But Kacchan…” Izuku said, already curled under the covers, eyes wide and lips pouting.

“Nah. None of that bullshit.” Katsuki folded his arms.

Izuku pouted harder. Katsuki stared. Then sighed.

“Fine. Go brush your damn teeth.”

“Yes! Thanks, Kacchan!” Izuku cheered, rolling out of bed and skipping—fucking skipping—down the hall.

Katsuki shook his head, muttering, “Insufferable nerd,” as he made his way to his own bathroom. He brushed his teeth, washed his face, and changed into sweatpants, leaving his shirt off—he always ran hot at night.

When he stepped back out, he stopped in the doorway.

Izuku was already sprawled across his side of the bed.

Katsuki scowled. “Fuck no. Move over, nerd.”

Izuku peeked up innocently. “But I’m comfortable.”

“That’s my side.”

“Fine,” Izuku sighed, rolling over dramatically—yanking the blanket with him in the process.

“You’re not gonna hog the damn blanket, too.”

“But I’m cold, Kacchan.”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

Izuku stayed rolled up in the blanket, completely cocooned in comfort and warmth.

“Kacchan! No!” he yelled, laughing as Katsuki climbed onto the bed, trying to pull the blanket away from him.

“Kacchan yes,” the blonde shot back, tugging and yanking at the blanket with determined strength.

Izuku clung to it for dear life, giggling wildly. But after a short, stubborn battle, Katsuki finally wrenched the blanket free and flopped down in victory, a smug grin painted across his face.

“I hate you,” Izuku muttered, fake pouting.

Katsuki stretched his arms behind his head like a king. “You love me.”

Izuku huffed dramatically, but then got up to flick off the lights. In the dark, he padded back over to the bed and slipped beneath the covers again — but this time, instead of staying on his side, he wormed his way toward the warmth.

The warmth being: Katsuki Bakugo.

“…Nerd? What are you doing?” Katsuki asked, voice low and suspicious.

“Nothing…” Izuku whispered, crawling closer until he reached his final destination — his Kacchan.

But he wasn’t quite in the right position.

He hesitated, then gently grabbed Katsuki’s arm and pushed him onto his back.

“What—? Nerd, are you good?” Katsuki asked, blinking at him in the dark.

Izuku didn’t answer. Instead, he picked up Katsuki’s arm and flattened it out beside him — right where his head would fall — and then dramatically flopped down on it.

“Kacchan, why are you so stiff?” he whined, squishing his face into the muscle.

“What the hell—why are you squeezing me?”

“Oh, I’m just fluffing my pillow,” Izuku replied sweetly, a big grin stretching across his face.

Katsuki barked out a laugh despite himself, the sound warm and low.

Izuku nuzzled into his side, one hand lightly resting on Katsuki’s chest. “Wow… this is more comfortable than I thought.”

Katsuki flexed just to be an ass.

Izuku laughed. “Kacchan.”

“What, nerd.”

“…Goodnight.”

“…Night.”

Days passed, but instead of getting better, Izuku got worse. He needed constant contact, growing restless and panicked even after just a few minutes apart. It felt like his skin was bubbling, like every muscle had been torn. His entire body ached like an open wound—and every time Katsuki walked away, it felt like someone poured hand sanitizer straight into it.

They had spent five days and nights together—eating, sleeping, breathing in sync. Being together so long and so closely, their souls started to feel confused, like they’d merged into one. Every movement was mirrored, every breath unconsciously matched. But by the fifth night, something in Izuku finally cracked.

Katsuki had gone to the bathroom.

Izuku curled up on the couch, trembling, sweat clinging to his forehead. His chest rose and fell rapidly, breath catching in his throat. “Kacchan,” he croaked, voice dry and small. “Kacchan, please… Kacchan.”

He couldn’t wait anymore.

He dropped to his hands and knees, crawling across the floor like a man dragging himself through sand. When he reached the bathroom door, he scratched at it weakly. “Kacchan… please,” he whimpered, tears blurring his vision.

“I’m coming, nerd, I’m coming,” Katsuki called from inside, hurriedly rinsing his hands.

When he opened the door, he froze.

Izuku was curled on the floor, trembling in the fetal position like a child left in the cold.

“Fuck. Izuku,” Katsuki breathed, eyes wide with panic. Without hesitation, he bent down and scooped him up, bridal style, as if Izuku weighed nothing at all.

Back in the bedroom, Katsuki lay him gently on the mattress. Izuku immediately curled into him like a cat searching for warmth, his fingers clutching at the edge of Katsuki’s shirt.

“Off,” Izuku mumbled.

Katsuki blinked. “What?”

“Off… want it off,” Izuku said, tugging at the fabric between them.

A beat of hesitation. But then Katsuki nodded, pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it aside. Izuku exhaled shakily and rested his cheek on the bare skin of Katsuki’s chest. The warmth helped—but it wasn’t enough. His skin still prickled with something deeper than cold. Something urgent and aching.

He needed to be closer. He needed to feel him. Needed to be under his skin, inside his breath. He needed Katsuki like air, like blood.

“Need,” Izuku whispered. “Want… need you… please…”

He wasn’t making sense anymore—his words barely more than babbles between breaths.

“I’m here, nerd,” Katsuki said softly, brushing a hand through his hair. “You have me. I’m right here. Not going anywhere, I promise.”

Izuku straddled him without warning, knees on either side of Katsuki’s hips. He slid his hands behind his back, fingertips pressing gently, just to feel—to touch. He wiggled his fingers like they might fuse into his skin, and rubbed his cheek along Katsuki’s chest again, nuzzling in like it might quiet the storm inside him.

It still wasn’t enough.

With a frustrated breath, he sat up and stripped off his own shirt. Then returned to that same spot—against his warmth, his heartbeat—but the ache still throbbed beneath the surface.

His body was screaming. His mind spinning with a single, blinding truth.

He needed more.

“Kacchan… please,” Izuku murmured, voice breaking.

Katsuki stared up at him, eyes narrowing. “What do you need, Izuku? Just tell me. I’m here.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Izuku looked away. “You’ll be mad,” he whispered, barely audible.

Katsuki reached out and gently took his chin, guiding him back until green eyes met red.

“I won’t be mad,” he said firmly. “Tell me.”

But Izuku didn’t speak. Instead, he leaned in and grabbed the back of Katsuki’s neck, pulling him closer until their foreheads touched, breaths mixing between them.

And then—he showed him.

Katsuki saw it all in the flicker of Izuku’s eyes. The want. The desperation. The silent plea.

He kissed him—soft at first. Gentle. Testing.

It wasn’t enough.

Izuku opened his mouth to him, breath hitching as their lips moved in sync. The kiss deepened—messy, breathless, hungry. Tongues, teeth, and everything unspoken poured out between them. Izuku’s hands tangled in Katsuki’s hair; Katsuki’s gripped the curve of Izuku’s hips, pulling him down against him like gravity itself depended on their closeness.

The space between them vanished.

And even then… it still wasn’t enough.

But it was something.

Something real. Something raw.

Something only they could give each other.

——————-

---

Izuku rut his hips down and moaned when he made contact with what he logically knew to be Katsuki's hard, thick, long cock. Logically. But Izuku was shocked. It was longer than any dildo he had used, longer than his fingers, longer than any man he had been with in the past.

"Katsuki," Izuku says tentatively,
"It hurts, kacchan, it hurts," Izuku breathlessly whines, tears in his eyes, pleading and begging for mercy. "Help me. Help me, kacchan. Help me," he whispers.

"What do you want, nerd?" Katsuki asks. "What can I do?"

Izuku doesn't reply but begins pulling at the hem of Katsuki's sweatpants, and Katsuki doesn't stop him. He finally frees Katsuki's hard dick from the confines of his sweatpants, and Izuku is in awe. He grabs it, and Katsuki hisses at his cold hands, but then Izuku begins pumping it, and the blonde let out a low moan.

"Fuck, Deku. That's good," Katsuki says.

Then Izuku opens his mouth and lets a glob of spit roll off his tongue, making eye contact. He opens his mouth as wide as it can go and sinks down on Katsuki's dick, tongue trapped underneath, mouth full of Katsuki.

"Yes," he chants in his mind. "Yes, yes, this is good. This is good." His skin still prickled, the quirk still lingering, but Izuku knew he was on the right track.

Izuku bobbed his head up and down, trying to suck the soul out of Katsuki's dick. He didn't succeed in that, but he did feel and hear the little twitches of Katsuki's hips and the loud moans that accompanied them.

Then he felt it—a gripping hand in his hair—and yes, yes, yes, this is all Izuku wanted.

Katsuki started speaking, words flying out of his mouth.

Filthy, pornographic things, Katsuki was spewing"Yeah, take it, Deku. Take it. Fuck. Yeah, you were made for this, huh? Made to suck my cock—my cock, only my cock."

Izuku moaned around Katsuki's length. His throbbing dick leaked pre-cum, which made him rut against the bed.

Katsuki then yanked Izuku off his dick, pinning him on his back.

"Did I say you could hump the fucking bed? Huh, Deku? You that desperate? I bet if I put my foot against it, you'd hump it like a bitch."

"Yes, Kacchan, yes," Izuku moaned breathlessly. "You'd do anything for this dick, wouldn't you, baby?"

Katsuki loosened his grip on Izuku's hair and cupped his cheek.

Going down to kiss him again, all tongues and teeth.

Katsuki bit Izuku's lip, drawing blood.

Izuku loved it, moaning into the kiss.

"Fuck me. Fuck me, Kachan," Izuku said.

Katsuki was momentarily shocked, then chuckled.

"You think you can handle it?" Katsuki asked mockingly. "Because I don't think you can."

He sat up and stood at the edge of the bed, with Izuku still sprawled out on it.

"I don't think you can take this," Katsuki said, wrapping his hand around his thick, long cock and stroking it.

"I can take it. I can take it, Kachan. Please, let me try," Izuku begged desperately. "Please, I'll be good. I'll be a good boy. I'll listen. Please, I just want to cum," he added, head hanging low in submission. "Just want to be good for Kachan."

"Okay, baby," Katsuki replied, pulling Izuku forward by the hair. "Turn around."

Izuku obeyed, with his ass out and his head down, back arched beautifully.

Katsuki would have laughed at how desperate Izuku looked if it wasn't for his throbbing dick. He knew he had lube at the foot of his bed, inside a chest that also contained an abundance of other sex toys—floggers, cuffs, paddles engraved with the word "slut," ropes, vibrators, dildos, cock rings, and butt plugs. He had bigger and better things in his closet so he could hide them from the world, but what he had in front of him would suffice for what he had in mind.

He reached into a black treasure box to get some generic lube. He then tossed the unopened bottle aside and ripped I zuku's shorts down the seam of his ass.

I zuku only moaned and pushed his hips back further.

"Katsuki," The green haired boy whispered,

"don't move, slut."

"Yes, sir," I zuku replied softly, muffled from having his face shoved into the pillows.

Katsuki spread Izuku's cheeks and came face-to-face with his puckered asshole. He licked a broad stripe over it.

Izuku wails, bucking back against Katsuki.

Katsuki gives Izuku another hard slap to the other cheek, then digs his nails into the flesh of Izuku's thighs.

"Don't. Fucking. Move. You bitch," Katsuki growls.

He then goes back in, licking, sucking, poking, and prodding at Izuku's ass until the muscle finally loosens enough for him to slip his tongue inside.

Throughout this, he hears Izuku's sweet, delicious moans.

"Need it, Kachan Want it" Izuku whines.

"Yes, fuck me. Yes, Kachan, yes," Izuku pleads, voice jumping several octaves—whiny, breathless, and pathetic.

Katsuki loves it.

He pulls back, opens the lube bottle, and squirts some directly onto Izuku's hole, watching it drip down his balls and onto his aching, neglected dick.

He then rubs some lube over his own cock and lines himself up with lzuku's ass, pressing his entire body against Izuku and gripping a handful of Izuku's hair. He yanks him up, keeping his body arched just enough to heighten the pleasure.

With his other hand, Katsuki lines up with lzuku's hole, pushing in slightly. He feels his tip pop in, and Izuku rocks back.

"Harder," Izuku whispers in a strained voice, so Katsuki complies, slamming into him all at once.

They moan in unison—Katsuki feeling the wet, hot tightness of Izuku Midoriya, and Izuku experiencing the long, thick, fat cock of Katsuki Bakugo.

He feels full and content, craving more.

"More, Kachan, more. Please, want it, need it. Fuck me. I'll be good. I'll be so fucking good," lzuku pleads.

"Filthy mouth you've got on you, Deku," Katsuki mutters as he starts to thrust, hips pounding in and out, the wet slapping sounds echoing through the room, along with lzuku's muffled, pleasure-filled noises.

After a few more thrusts, Katsuki pulls out completely, flips lzuku onto his back, and shoves his cock right back in—no stopping now.

He ruts in and out, in and out, his hands wrapping around lzuku's throat.

"You like that, Deku? You like being my bitch? You like when I fuck you nice and hard?"

"Yes, Kachan, yes, I love it, "Izuku gasps, wheezing from the pressure and lack of oxygen.

"You're going to come with my hand around your throat, huh?" Katsuki says, voice shaky from exertion.

Izuku nods, wanting to conserve his breath.

Katsuki positions his hand where he's choking Izuku with only one hand now and slaps him in the face.

"Answer me, Izuku! Answer me!"

"Yes, yes," Izuku replies.

Katsuki keeps thrusting, spewing downright filthy things.

"Yeah, Deku, like when I fuck your little pussy. Yeah. I'm going to fuck you so good, stuff you nice," Katsuki rambles, with Izuku bobbing his head in agreement.

Katsuki grabs Izuku's face, squishes his mouth open until he's panting, and spits on his tongue.

"Swallow it, nerd."

Izuku does.

"Thank you, Kachan, thank you," Izuku whispers.

Katsuki loses control, hips stuttering.

"Fuck, I'm going to cum. I'm going to cum," he chants, practically growling in Izuku's ear.

He then takes his hand, which isn't choking Izuku, and wraps it around his own dick, in sync with his thrusting.

It only takes a few more thrusts for both of them to shout out loud, coming in unison

—————

Coming down from having just come together, Katsuki pulls out of Izuku with a hiss. Then he looks at him—worried.

“Izuku? …Izuku?”

His voice is a little more frantic the second time.

“Are you okay? Was that too much? Too hard? Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have—”

Izuku cuts him off. “You’re rambling.”

Katsuki ignores that. “Izuku, are you okay?”

He leans down, cupping Izuku’s sweaty face. “Did I go too hard?”

“No,” Izuku replies, voice soft and tired. “It was perfect. Just what I needed. Thank you. Kacchan, thank you.”

Katsuki just stares, confused, before asking, “Is the quirk gone?”

Izuku hums in response. “All gone.” A pause. “I hope we can do this again sometime,” he adds, voice a little unsure.

Katsuki huffs a laugh. “Yeah, nerd. Of course.” He glances down at them both. “I should probably get you cleaned up, though.”

Izuku whines. “I’m tired.”

“I know,” Katsuki says, “but we’re all dirty and sticky.”

Izuku gives him a look. “Are you telling me you won’t cuddle me if I’m dirty and sticky—even if you’re the one who made me dirty and sticky?”

He smiles as he says it, the corners of his mouth pulling up.

Katsuki smirks back. “Yes, nerd. That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Stay here. I’m gonna run a bath.”

Izuku rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

He stays put. Katsuki gets up and walks to the bathroom, running the water until it’s just right. When he comes back out, Izuku is already asleep—eyes closed, a soft, content smile on his face.

A rush of affection crashes over Katsuki.

He walks over and gently picks Izuku up bridal-style, startling him.

“What? Kacchan?” Izuku mumbles, still half-asleep.

“It’s okay, nerd. I got you.”

And he does.

Katsuki carries him to the bathroom and lowers him into the bath, then steps in behind him. He washes Izuku’s hair, scrubs his body with careful hands. Afterward, he helps him out, wrapping him in a warm towel. He brushes his hair, blow dries it.

They stand in front of the mirror. Izuku’s eyes are closed. Katsuki’s eyes are on him.

Izuku leans back until he meets Katsuki’s chest. Then he tilts his head up and pouts.

“Kiss?” he asks, lips pressed together.

Katsuki smiles. “What, nerd?”

Izuku whines. “Give me a kiss.”

“Oh,” Katsuki murmurs, leaning down.

The kiss isn’t like the others—those desperate, hungry kisses. This one is warm. Steady. Full of comfort, admiration, and something neither of them has said out loud yet.

Love.

They walk back toward Katsuki’s room, only to see the complete disaster of the bed.

Izuku sighs, grabs Katsuki’s hand, and tugs him to the other side of the apartment.

To his room.

When he opens the door, Katsuki groans. “You’re a grown man, Izuku. A grown man with All Might on your bedsheets.”

Izuku turns around. “You can go sleep in your messy bed if you’d like. I’m sleeping here.”

He crawls under the covers and pulls them up to his chin. Then, in a soft, teasing whine: “Please, Kacchan, come lay down.”

Katsuki’s face goes bright red. He sighs.

“Fine, nerd.”

He climbs in beside him, buries his face into the back of Izuku’s head, and kisses it.

“Night, Izuku.”

“Goodnight, Kacchan.”