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Literally nobody but Deku thinks Katsuki’s attractive.
That’s a reality Katsuki’s been living with all his life, and for fucks sake, it was annoying. He’s a goddamn albino. Pale hair, red eyes, pale skin, he sweats like a fucking pig, he stinks all the time, and he’s got a raspy, nails-on-chalkboard kind of voice.
Of course, he leans into it. Why wouldn’t he, the alternative is to care what people think about him and what people think about his body. Fuck them.
His mother was a model, but of course she was wanted for the diversity points, and ‘novel’ sells magazines. He looks just like his mother but disfigured into a male body.
“A face only a mother could love!”
“Stop making that ugly expression!”
“Jeez, Bakugou, you reek.”
Of course, he doesn’t care what the dweebs think of him. He’s gonna be a hero, what does he have to be attractive for?
But then...Deku. Fucking Deku.
Sugoi, Kacchan!
Isn’t it shocking Kacchan never got chocolates growing up?
It’s so unfair how beautiful Kacchan is.
Deku saw him and thought he was the best thing ever. Growing up Katsuki at first loved it, took it as his due, but then shit all went down and he got all twisted up inside and then it seemed Deku was mocking him. Making fun. And Katsuki felt uglier than ever.
Not that he cares.
But fuck.
“Todoroki’s on top, that checks out.”
“Look at you, Momo, you’re number two!”
“Bakugou’s right at the bottom!” Someone laughs, all of them crowded around someone’s phone and laughing at Class 3-A’s attractiveness ranking. It’s a stupid teeny-bopper magazine kind of ranking, it has no meaning, and yet here he is losing. Katsuki hates losing more than anything.
“Fuck you Racoon eyes!” he shouts, waving his large stirring spoon. The soup bubble threateningly, popping big tomato scented bubbles as he glowers down at it.
“Why am I number seven?!” Deku’s alarmed voice cracks in the middle, and it makes Katsuki’s scowl worsen.
“You’re super cute, Deku-kun, you have the cheeks, and the body, and the fluffy green hair!” Uraraka cheers, rustling said hair. Blushing like Katsuki’s soup, Deku curls his arms up over his head like he used to do in middle school to hide.
“You said that I was plain before!” Deku says, and Katsuki fights the urge to whirl around. Plain?
“Yeah, but you grew up a bit, haven’t you?” She laughs as if it’s all fine.
“Would you all shut the fuck up?” Katsuki growls, ladling out his own bowl. “What does that matter, it’s got nothing to do with being a hero.”
They crowd him for their own dinner, and he elbows both Sero and Kirishima out of the way. Fuckers got taller than him, he’ll never forgive them.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t hurt the popularity polls.” Jirou says reasonably. He’s almost betrayed, she’s supposed to be one of the reasonable ones.
“It seems a bit silly.” Deku mutters. With pink cheeks, Deku’s got his bowl and was stealing Katsuki’s hot sauce, as they sat elbow to elbow at a table. It was so much easier existing in Deku’s space now that they had their middle ground again.
“Bakugou’s just jealous I think, he’s not ever going to be the top of any of those polls!” Kaminari laughs obnoxiously. What’s worse is he’s not malicious about it.
Katsuki pretends the words don’t strike him somewhere sensitive. He’s moved on from needless explosions, he’s not going to make a fool of himself by getting upset. If he does, then the smart ones in the class will know it bothers him, and Katsuki won’t let it bother him.
But Deku’s knee nudges his under the table, and he doesn’t look at him. He’s not even blushing anymore, shifting the conversation away from the poll towards final exams, and with his knee still touching Katsuki’s and fuck, he loves his boyfriend with all his ugly, ugly heart.
“Kacchan…” Deku’s voice is soft, gentle. It raises all the hair on the back of Katsuki’s neck.
“Don’t even start.” He growls, slamming his bag down, falling back into his bed and glowering at the ceiling. With the door shut, the sound dampeners that U.A. had long ago installed due to their class’s rowdiness, Katsuki can almost believe Deku and he were alone in the building. It makes it so much easier to press into the hand that runs through his hair, to curl around Deku’s body when he sits down at the edge of the bed. That’s private, that’s just for them.
Wrapped around Deku, Katsuki can also shove his face into the blankets and pretend he’s not emotionally destabilized.
“I think you’re the most attractive one of us. Number one in my books.” Deku whispers, and Katsuki feels the urge to sink his teeth into something. Preferably, Deku’s vulnerable neck. Like a heat seeking missile, Deku zeros in on what’s bothering Katsuki and slams his fist into the button. It’s a testament to Katsuki’s growth his first reaction wasn’t to blow up in rage anymore. Instead, he just wanted to savage Deku, love on him, love in him, until the boy couldn’t even speak these truths anymore.
Katsuki considers that an improvement.
“It doesn’t fucking matter.”
“Yes, it does. Otherwise, you wouldn’t care.”
Damn him.
“It shouldn’t matter. I’ve looked like this my whole life.”
“Yes, you have, and you’re only going to get more attractive. Your mom’s a model, you’re going to end up looking like her.”
Katsuki glowers up at him out of the corner of his eye, unwilling to break from his comfortable, safe crescent moon curled about Deku’s back. Izuku doesn’t get it, he’s cute and bubbly and soft. Everyone likes the look of him, he’s gorgeous, he’s sweet and lovable. Cradling Izuku against his curled torso, Katsuki can believe he’s leaving his scent and warmth on every part of him, keeping him safe and secure and tied down to Katsuki.
Shit, was that what this is about? He’s afraid to lose Izuku because he’s too ugly to keep him?
Ridiculous.
Doesn’t stop the flutter of anxiety in his throat.
“It’s not--” He struggles to say, biting the end of it and digging his face so hard into the mattress he sees spots. “It’s not the same. I’m--”
“You’re what?” Izuku says, still with that gentle cadence. His scarred fingers work their way into Katsuki’s hair and pet him, scratching dull nails at his nape. It’s frustratingly comforting, Katsuki never wants him to stop. God, he’s weak. “You’re strong? Heroic? You’re striking, your eyes are a beautiful dark red, your hair is somehow always volumized, your muscles have muscles, and your voice is so deep it rattles my soul.” Izuku lean down and rests his upper body against Katsuki’s, putting his nose into the space behind his ear. “You’re warm, and kind to me, and dedicated to being the best hero you can be.”
Is Katsuki blushing? His face feels warm. Better stay hidden to be sure.
“I sweat like a pig, I’ve got pimples all the time, my voice is like gargling screws, and I don’t care about being nice. People always say it.”
“That doesn’t matter. People should shut up. Everyone has pimples. You’ve popped mine.” Izuku says, urging Katsuki back to make room for himself in Katsuki’s bed.
Making room for himself. Deku always did that, has always done. Made room for himself in Katsuki’s life, like he’s setting up a spare bedroom in his head. In his heart.
It’s only recently that he’s stopped trying to kick him back out the door.
“It matters!” Katsuki’s voice breaks a little on this one. Ignoring the fact, he’s saying the opposite that he wants to be true, that he’d been trying to prove only a few minutes ago. “It matters.”
“It doesn’t matter to me. But I’m sorry that you can’t see it, that you feel…like that discounts everything good about you, everything beautiful.” Izuku pauses, laying next to Katsuki tight enough their knees were banging together, their chests pressed tight. Katsuki can feel Izuku breathing against his cheek, his ear, but keeps his face ducked down into the pillow.
A large, scarred, knobby hand pets down Katsuki’s side, over and over, and he swallows a purr.
“I’m not beautiful.” Katsuki says, strangled.
Izuku makes a disbelieving noise, brushing his lips over the tip of Katsuki’s ear. It makes him shiver.
“I think my scars are ugly, when I see them and I’m not expecting them.” Izuku says, laying himself bare even though Katsuki didn’t ask. It strikes him silent. “I think that they’re my failures, my inability to keep myself safe. You’ve beaten that over my head enough times.”
The topic change was enough to dig Katsuki back out of the pillow, and he locks his red eyes to Izuku’s tired ones.
“I love your scars.” Katsuki confesses on a whisper. “They’re not failures…they’re marks of how fucking…how fucking heroic you can be. Each one of these was you saving someone.” To illustrate his point, he reaches out and draws his fingers down the largest, the scarred upper arm Izuku received from the fight with Muscular, when he was fighting for Kota, for Katsuki.
“I could be scarless, and still have saved them. I should have been able to do that. Instead, I have this body that’s going to collapse by the time I’m forty, not even twenty and covered in ugly scars.” Izuku looks down at this, something like shame entering his expression. Katsuki never thought Izuku would ever feel ashamed of his scars, not ever, he’s never even hinted at it.
Did he know his boyfriend at all then? Katsuki’s an awful partner, incapable of knowing this much about someone he’s known his whole life.
Shut up Katsuki, this is no time to self-flagellate.
Katsuki leans up on his elbow, then over Izuku and plants his lips to the worst of the scar. Izuku sucks in air through his teeth but slips his arms around Katsuki.
“I get it.” Katsuki rumbles against the skin. It’s raised and bubbled and oddly smooth at the same time under his sensitive lips. He wonders why he hasn’t done this before it feels amazing. Like he’s tasting Izuku’s strength. “I don’t like hearing you say shit like that bout yourself, I don’t agree but you still think it. That’s how you feel?”
“About the way you think you’re ugly, Kacchan, yeah. I don’t like hearing you be so insecure. But you’re allowed to feel not perfect, Kacchan, nobody can be perfect. But I want you to know…how much I love your imperfections, just as much as I love the rest of you. You’re amazing, Kacchan, you’re beautiful.” The truth in Izuku’s voice, in his eyes when Katsuki pushes back to see, is monumental.
This was all so sappy. This was emotional, and soft, and everything Katsuki usually attempted to avoid. Izuku was so good at it, sharing something he felt insecure about so Katsuki could feel like he wasn’t on the spot, like they were sharing it between them, making it less horrible. This was only okay because it was just him and Deku here, in his room, whispering between their bodies.
Izuku cups his cheek and runs his thumb over it, smiling softly at whatever ugly, emotional expression was on his face. He doesn’t even notice the volcanic pimple on Katsuki’s chin that Katsuki’s been fixated on for the last three days.
Fucking Deku.
Katsuki leans down and presses his lips to his boyfriend’s, greedily taking in every shift and turn in his body, the way his lips part to press back, dry skin catching just a bit against Katsuki’s. He really needs to buy him some chapstick, fucks sakes. As they kiss, their lips get wetter, and then everything is smoother, spellbinding, overwhelming him with Deku, Deku, Deku.
Scarred hands grip at his back, pulling him tighter in, and Katsuki lays his palm against Izuku’s hip, the other sliding around the back of his neck to cradle him like the precious thing he was.
“Kacchan,” Izuku murmurs between their kisses, just to say it.
They tried to have pet names, when they started dating. Or, had a conversation about it. Most of them made Izuku stutter into a blushing mess, and the others turned Katsuki nuclear with embarrassment. Baby, babe, sweetie, honey, dear, darling. They didn’t seem right. Maybe not yet at least. Not when they were eighteen and graduating and not even adults despite being in warzones.
Kacchan and Deku was enough. It was them.
“Deku,” Katsuki mutters back, pressing Izuku’s lips apart with his tongue and taking him over, feeling strong and big and powerful when Izuku whimpers against his mouth, tongue shyly curling with his.
Katsuki’s working on a chub that was nearly full mast, but it seems unimportant to speed anything up right now. After such a tumultuous conversation, this intimacy was special, magical, perfect. The way Izuku sighs through his nose, slipping his arms up around Katsuki’s neck now, accepting Katsuki’s weight entirely, knees only slightly parting so that Katsuki can shift between them.
That’s good. That’s so good.
“Kacchan, want to try something?” Izuku says against his lips, parting his thighs higher so Katsuki falls directly against him, rubbing their interested cocks between layers of clothes.
“Hmn?” He grunts, kissing is way out of Izuku’s tempting mouth over his freckled cheek, to his ear, then down to the sensitive spots on his neck. He tastes, feasting, entire body primed, consumed by every little gasp and breath of air he forces out of Izuku with his attentions. He reveled in this power, in being able to touch and taste and make Izuku tremble beneath him. Only him.
Everyone wanted his sexy little boyfriend (number seven his ass, Izuku was clearly number one in attractiveness, certainly cuter and sweeter and prettier than that Icy-Hot, especially when he groans and arches just like that).
“Kacchan,” Izuku tries to say again, distracted by his train of though by Katsuki’s mouth, the way his body had started a comfortable, tiny little rock that rubbed them all up on each other. “Kacchan!”
“What do you want to try, nerd?” Katsuki rumbles, pleased and teasing into a strong neck. Izuku’s arms and legs crushed him tightly, either to stop the thrusting he was doing, or to get more contact. Either way, Katsuki’s air leaves his lungs in a big whoosh.
“I want to ride you,” Izuku gasps into his ear, sounding almost like he was already being fucked. “I want to ride you and look at you and touch all of you. Can I? Let me, Kacchan, please, I wanna—”
Fuck that’s too much.
Shuddering, Katsuki draws back and kisses him again, at once because he couldn’t survive without the feel of his lips and also to shut him p from begging any more. His nerd, so fucking free with his wants and desires, so open and unashamed when it’s with Katsuki, wanting him in every way, addicted to the feel of his cock, the press of his hole.
Katsuki is at all times one hundred percent into everything, getting fucked, fucking, sucking, hands, anything Izuku wanted to give him he was ready to take. Izuku was the one who had whims, desires that fulfilled some need he had that day. Today it looks like he wants to bounce himself on his cock.
Not like Katsuki’s going to argue.
“Yeah,” Katsuki huskily says, smacking their lips together and apart so wetly it makes an audible noise. “Yeah, that’s good. Let me open you though?” He requests, wanting at least that control, and Izuku whines his assent, arm already flailing out uselessly towards Katsuki’s bedside table.
Chuckling, Katsuki hushes him, and starts getting them undressed. No reason to rush. The door was locked. The extras knew not to bother him when he was in his room.
Katsuki’s halfway to getting Izuku’s pants off when the idiot twists and kicks at them, impatient.
“Really want to get fucked, huh, Deku? You need it?” Katsuki says low, confident but not that confident in his dirty talk. It was really just his way of making sure Izuku wanted him, wanted him back as much as Katsuki wanted him. Needed him.
“Kacchan, if I could go every day with your cock inside of me, somehow, I would.” Izuku pants, sitting up to tear Katsuki’s shirt off over his head with a shit-eating, giggling grin.
“Fucker, don’t stretch my shirt.” Katsuki glares, pushing Izuku back down flat on the bed and standing to take his own pants off. They’ve fucked often enough Katsuki’s no longer self-conscious about his cock (gorgeous, Izuku had said, gorgeous and flushed red and with a slight upward curve that hits his prostate perfect, meant for him), but also highly aware that he has a set of pimples on his lower back that have been taking ages to heal.
Izuku doesn’t care, he reminds himself. Izuku loves him.
And when he clambers up to rejoin his boyfriend, Izuku’s arms are already open and his legs splayed to accept him, moaning happily when Katsuki roughly palms his hard, beautifully thick cock.
“Kacchan,” Izuku mumbles, “please.”
“Be fucking patient, Deku, I’m enjoying this.” Katsuki bites Izuku’s lower lip and pulls. It snaps back and swells red and wet, beautiful on Izuku’s flushed, aroused face. His hand on Izuku’s dick gets distracted, just holding it.
“You always do, but I want it!” Izuku whines and scratches his nails down Katsuki’s back. Miraculously, he’s gentle enough he doesn’t scratch any of the red ugly aching spots Katsuki pops when he’s by himself (they hurt, cystic and large and juicy, they’re the worst of it, a secret shame). At the slight, reluctantly arousing pain, Katsuki rears back, growling, before punishing Izuku with a deep, forceful kiss that presses his skull back into Katsuki’s bed. Good, maybe there will be an imprint of him that Katsuki can lay in when they weren’t together.
“Fucking needy. Don’t rush. It’s always better when I make you wait, isn’t it?” Katsuki grunts, swallowing a groan when Izuku lifts his legs to wrap them tight around his hips, heels kicking into his ass and pressing their hot, leaking cocks together.
Fuck, he’s so hot.
“It is, it is,” Izuku pants, eyes lidding and pressing his hands flat, moving them up and down Katsuki’s sides, his back, touching everything he can reach. He doesn’t even stutter at the bumps under his palm when he finds Katsuki’s back acne, just massages deeper, hands even traveled down to his ass to cup and hold his cheeks. Then he’s pulling, strong body moving Katsuki’s without his express permission, making him thrust against him, pushing. Their pants mix between their faces, and Katsuki is love-drunk on green eyes.
“Lube, Kacchan,” Izuku whispers, cooing it, “I want to take you.”
Fuck.
Katsuki’s up and reaching for his half-finished bottle in an instant, cursing when Izuku uses his stretched position to sink his teeth into his pec. Palms on his ass cheeks, teeth in his tit, Katsuki’s cock pulses.
Fuck, he needs to focus on edging Izuku, otherwise he’s going to blow the instant he gets inside. Cap popped, Izuku shoved back into the pillows with one stern, commanding hand on his throat, Katsuki’s kneeling between his spread legs and hitching hi knees up. The first press of slick, cold fingers to his hole makes Izuku shiver, but then Katsuki’s trying desperately to focus on Izuku and his reactions rather than the way he was squirming, sighing, and staring at him with hot heavy eyes.
Izuku bends one knee, setting his foot against Katsuki’s bare hip and curling his toes on him, like he’s trying to hold on. It shouldn’t be hot, but it sends a shot of heat through Katsuki’s gut.
He’s so sensual.
“You’re so fucking hot, Deku, made to take it. Tight around my fingers.” Katsuki says, pressing in a second and being careful about it. Izuku always rushes when he stretches himself, even when he stretches Katsuki, putting in fingers nearly before he’s ready, loving the stretch, needing more.
Katsuki likes his way, but he also prefers to be fucking thorough, getting to watch Izuku become more and more out of it as he plays with his body.
“Kacchan, please!” Izuku half-whines, hands reaching for his own face and pressing over his cheeks, hiding his eyes.
“No, show me.” Katsuki orders, attention splitting. He curls his fingers and stutters them perfectly, against that spot, and Izuku’s hands fly down to clutch at the bedding. His eyes are wet, cheeks flushing harder red, biting his bottom lip savagely.
That expression makes Katsuki feel like a barbarian, like he wants to crawl his way up Izuku to press his cock into his face, slap him with it, make him gurgle and groan around it, make his face all wet with spit, tears, and come. But Izuku’s legs flex, toes twitching against his hip, and fuck yeah, third finger.
“Kacchan, I’m ready.” Izuku huffs, moving as if he’s going to sit up. Katsuki shoves him back down again with a hand on his chest, drawing that hand down to capture his red cock and squeeze.
“Not yet,” Katsuki grins, mean, at the resulting groan. “I’m not ready yet, you impatient bitch.”
“You suck!” Izuku complains, hips thrusting up with each press and pull of Katsuki’s fingers, three deep and twisting.
“I can suck.” Katsuki rumbles threateningly, shuffling quickly to swoop down and lick a broad, wet stripe up the underside of Izuku’s cock. He flicks his tongue over the head and then sucks him in, salivating to get him all wet and slippery. His arm is pinched like this, but he still works his fingers at the perfect angle, double teaming his boyfriend.
Izuku half-shouts, biting it back and hands flying to Katsuki’s hair.
“Not fair!” He hiccups, thighs trembling as Katsuki also fucks his fingers up into him, well lubed, well stretched.
About to pull back and perhaps tease some more, greatly enjoying Izuku’s every frustrated reaction, Katsuki is torn off and then bodily pulled and thrown onto his back.
Oofing with the movement, Katsuki lays stunned as Izuku grins meanly down at him, cheeks a healthy red and eyes wild. Straddling Katsuki’s hips, Izuku presses him deep into the bed with hands on his arms, pinning him down. Maybe he teased a bit too much.
“I said I wanted to ride you, Kacchan,” Izuku says, reaching behind himself to grasp Katsuki’s up till now forgotten cock. He hisses at the touch, at Izuku using the dripping, excess lube from Katsuki’s overly thorough ministrations to slick him up. His cockhead is pressed to his hole, the resistance delicious. “I want to look at how beautiful you are when you come inside.”
Fuck.
Izuku uses his weight to press back and force his body into compliance, hole stretching open over Katsuki’s cock head like he’s entering for the very first time, despite the prep. Head pressing back to the messed-up pillow, Katsuki clenches his teeth and grabs onto Izuku’s thighs.
“Hng.” Izuku grunts, lashes fluttering as he forces his eyes open to watch Katsuki’s reaction.
“Fuck,” Katsuki groans, low and half smothered. The tight clutch of Izuku’s body was a lot, as Izuku pulses his hips up and down in tiny increments to take more and more of Katsuki’s cock, working down his shaft with shivers and groans at the invasion.
“Does that feel good, Kacchan?” Izuku asks. It would be a purr if his voice wasn’t also overwhelmed with the sudden fullness of his body, of breathing through it, getting used to Katsuki’s cock even though they’ve fucked so many times already.
“Y-yea.” Katsuki answers dumbly, cock throbbing in the hot, tight press of Izuku. Izuku grinds a bit, just a bit, back and forth over Katsuki’s hips. Katsuki’s eyes roll back at the sensation of his cock slipping about within him.
Izuku shuffles his knees for a more comfortable position, hands touching Katsuki’s arms, dragging up his biceps to his shoulders, over his neck, over his chest, cupping his pecs. Fingers draw designs over his nipples, as Izuku uses his incredible lower body strength to move up and down Katsuki’s cock, just a tiny inch at a time, working his way to a lovely canter that drops his weigh ton Katsuki each descent.
“God,” Katsuki bursts out with, hands fluttering at Izuku’s hips, his thighs, up to his shoulders. He doesn’t know what to touch, what to hold onto. When Izuku said he’s going to ride him, he meant it.
“Kacchan, this feels so good, what a good angle. Your cock is so perfect, it hits all the best places inside me.” Izuku says low, voice stuttering with his movements, shifting his knees again to a longer bounce in, one that moved over at least half of Katsuki’s cock. God, he’s perfect. Izuku’s perfect, what is he even saying, Katsuki’s lucky as fucking shit to even get to witness this, let alone feel it.
“Deku,” He says, ignoring the way his voice sounded like a whine. Gargling metal, is what he said, but he didn’t sound like that now. Pleasure was overwhelming his senses, what did he fucking care if he whined. Izuku deserved it, deserved his every reaction.
Eyes swallowing up Katsuki greedily, Izuku seemed to let himself go, moving faster, working himself a little more viciously, cock swaying with his every bounce. His hands dive to Katsuki’s face, clasping his cheeks, thumbs brushing over his lips. Katsuki feels utterly devoured, utterly obsessed with it, with Izuku. He kisses at the fingers that come near, eyes lidding to watch the way green curls bounce.
“Kaccha’s so pretty, look at the way he wants me, the way he lets me do this to him. Only I get to see Kacchan like this, please moan Kacchan, yes, that’s good, so beautiful.” Izuku’s muttering, nearly talking to himself.
Half ashamed of the way his ears were fixated on these words, Katsuki moans as asked, becoming desperate as Izuku rides him so hard they’re nearly moving the bed frame. Thankfully, Katsuki had long ago softened the frame against the wall with felt so they didn’t make a racket.
Izuku probably wouldn’t have stopped, even if they were.
“So good, oh I’m going to come on Kacchan’s cock, oh, god, Kacchan!” Izuku runs his fingers into Katsuki’s hand, grasping a little too hard, holding him still, pulling him down into the claps of his cheeks hitting his thighs, using him. Fuck, arousal and lust and heat pools in Katsuki’s gut, shooting through his entire body. He’s being used for Izuku’s pleasure, Izuku is holding him down and fucking him, Katsuki doesn’t even think he could flip them if he wanted to. He tries to plant his feet on the bed, tries to hump up into Izuku, to give him a counter fuck to work with. Izuku was so strong.
Fuck, he’s gonna come.
“Deku---” He gasps, fingertips digging into thick, powerful thighs. He reaches up and grabs one of Izuku’s wrists, pulling at it. Like he knows what he wants, Izuku lets his hands free of Katsuki’s hair and slithers his hand into his to hold him, lacing their fingers together. They press that hand next to Katsuki’s head, and he feels utterly kept, utterly safe, cared for, at Izuku’s mercy.
“Kacchan, I love you, I love this,” Izuku babbles, half crying, sucking in air and slamming his body down in a perfect swooping curve that rubs Katsuki all in the best places. His hand that wasn’t holding Katsuki’s flies to his own cock and tugs at it, his body clenching up at the second sensation. He’s close too.
“Izuku!” Katsuki groans, about to go mad. He’s going to come, he’s going to blow, right in Izuku’s hole, he’s going to come too soon and Izuku will have to bounce on his soft cock, so overstimulated, so sensitive. He loves Izuku, he’ll do it for him, so he can come. Orgasm tingles in his extremities, in the white space of pleasure that lurked behind his eyes.
“Kacchan, you’re so fucking pretty,” Izuku groans and sobs, stuttering in his movements and for the last three thrusts becoming utterly selfish, orgasming so hard his mouth drops open and he moans long, loud, and tight.
Kacchan you’re so fucking pretty, the desperate, heartfelt words with that rare curse word strike Katsuki deep in his chest and he erupts, coming, body jerking and flailing beneath Izuku, fucking up into him, cock suddenly wetter with his spend messing up Izuku’s insides.
Huffing in air together, Izuku and Katsuki move jerkily against one another, working out their aftershocks against one another, eyes half closed, pleasure leaving behind a buzzing softness. Lethargy enters their limbs, heavy, and Izuku slowly collapses, pressing his nose into Katsuki’s collarbone, bending to curl over Katsuki, still seated on his softening cock. His arms curl up beneath him, hands petting at Katsuki’s shoulders, ignoring, or not even caring about the tacky feeling of Katsuki’s sweat.
Katsuki’s gotten his explosive palm sweat all over his partner, but Izuku doesn’t even seem to notice the acrid, sweet smell.
“I love you,” Katsuki huffs into green hair, all insecurity and uncertainty having left his body at the moment. Who fucking cared about pimples, about sweat? They were both sweaty with effort, stinking, Izuku had praised his every feature while fucking him, Katsuki felt so fucking good right now. “I love you.”
“Kacchan,” Izuku murmurs, half-drugged, body trembling. “Kacchan.”
Katsuki tugs the blanket off the end of the bed entirely, dragging it up and around as much of Izuku as he can reach, unable to move, unwilling to shift Izuku. He wants him warm though, wants him safe and warm just like he makes Katsuki feel, under him and inside. Wetness at his thighs says they probably should have used a condom, but it also feels good. Izuku absently, mindlessly, drags his lips back and forth in kisses on his chest, turning and resting his head trustingly on Katsuki’s shoulder.
He’s going to pretend that the tears in his eyes are from overstimulation, not from feeling so fucking loved he might explode with it.
“That was good.” Izuku rasps against him, breath on his throat. With his arms wrapped around Izuku’s back, Katsuki half-grins, tugging him tight.
To think, several months ago Katsuki didn’t have this. Couldn’t have this. As always, it was Izuku being brave, being strong, cornering him and kissing him at the new years party at midnight, kickstarting their relationship into the next, inevitable stage. Hard fought, Izuku had claimed him in front of everyone, their relationship cementing into what it was now.
Izuku thought he was pretty. Thought he was beautiful.
Katsuki felt pretty. He felt beautiful.
“Fuck yeah.”