Work Text:
He doesn’t really care when that purple-haired freak joins their class. Sure, it’s another person he’s going to have to beat, but judging by the way he fought against Deku those two times, it won’t be a problem. He seems close with Aizawa, but that makes sense, since half the time he assumes they’re the same fucking person. Their eyebags are the same, and so are their creepy smiles that only show up when they’re pissed or smug.
He’s tempted to ask Deku if Icyhot has any theories, but that would include actually talking to Deku, and he’d rather chew glass.
“Shinso is joining our class,” Aizawa says the day that Eyebags Jr throws a wrench in their established class dynamic. Katsuki is sitting near the front, glowering down at his notebook – Kirishima took notes for him the other day when he was puking his guts out and he can’t read a fucking thing – and doesn’t bother looking up. “I expect you all to treat him with respect and kindness.”
“Y’know,” Katsuki says impulsively, still not looking up, “we aren’t in fucking kindergarten.”
“Language,” Aizawa sighs. “And if you aren’t, then I suggest you act like it.”
Katsuki looks up sharply, baring his teeth and hissing. Aizawa stares calmly at him. Eyebags Jr snorts and quickly covers the sound up by clearing his throat, raising his hand to his mouth. Katsuki’s eyes flick to their new classmate, darkening. Respect and kindness , he thinks as Aizawa tells Eyebags Jr to sit down. Sure.
~
It becomes a fucking problem when Katsuki finds himself being befriended .
It starts small, almost unnoticeable. Eyebags Jr laughs a little whenever he rips into one of their peers – namely off-brand Pikachu – but it’s not enough to draw much attention. Katsuki only notices because he’s never actually heard Eyebags Jr laugh properly, or at all for that matter, and generally speaking, no one finds his insults funny. Sure, his little posse chuckle or react in their dumbass ways, but he’s not sure he’s had someone actually laugh.
He doesn’t like it. It feels funny, like all of a sudden he’s got a fucking standard to live up to. Like he has to make Eyebags Jr laugh now.
Naturally, he confronts him.
“Why do you fucking laugh?” he demands. It’s four am. Eyebags Jr is sitting on the kitchen counter with a carton of strawberry milk and a Nintendo Switch in his lap, one earbud in. He looks like a corpse, with the white light from his device. He looks like a fucking insomniac . Eyebags Jr looks up at him, sipping his milk through a straw – ew, you drink that shit from the lip of the carton, freak – and shrugs.
“You’re funny,” he says, like that’s enough of an explanation.
“Fuck you,” he growls, turning on his heel and leaving the kitchen.
“Hey wait,” Eyebags Jr calls, and Katsuki stops because – because he fucking decided to. Because maybe he was a little curious about what Eyebags Jr wants. He doesn’t turn around though, that would be too much, but Eyebags Jr doesn’t seem to need him to. “You go to bed at, like, 8. Why are you up now?”
“None of your fucking business,” Katsuki snaps. There’s a pause of silence, and Katsuki can hear the smirk on that fucker’s face.
“Too busy thinking about me?” Eyebags Jr taunts, and wow, Katsuki didn’t know his face could get this hot that fast. He balls his fists, slick with sweat, but stifles any explosions that go off.
“Why are you up?” Katsuki demands, whipping around, praying the dark hides the flush he knows is there (why it’s there, however, eludes him). Eyebags Jr shrugs again – Katsuki hates that, how everything is nonchalant and easy, even with Katsuki – and sips at his strawberry milk again.
He licks his lips – they’re surprisingly pink in this lighting. “Insomnia,” he admits, and Katsuki feels a surge of pride at guessing correctly. “Anyways, I should go to bed.” He adds, sliding off the counter. He shuts off his Switch and puts it into his pocket – he’s wearing an oversized black hoodie and plaid sweatpants that are a little too small – stepping towards Katsuki. He moves close enough that Katsuki feels like he should step back, but he doesn’t. Eyebags Jr smells like lavender and strawberry milk and fabric softener. “Goodnight,” he says softly, gaze warm.
Then he’s gone.
And Katsuki wants to murder something.
The next morning, Eyebags Jr seems to think he’s got some right of fucking passage, hanging out in the kitchen while Katsuki cooks himself breakfast, even going so far as to actually steal a piece of sausage as soon as Katsuki’s finished cutting it up. He shouts at him for a full two minutes, but Eyebags Jr looks unfazed, calmly looking into his eyes and chewing his stolen food.
“I fucking hate you, Eyebags,” Katsuki snarls.
“Mm,” Eyebags Jr says, licking his lips and his fingers. “I like it when you talk mean to me.”
Katsuki, flushing, lets off a series of explosions that even Kirishima and Kaminari usually run from, but Eyebags Jr just laughs and steals another piece of meat before turning tail and making his escape. Katsuki roars curses at him and ignores the stunned looks his classmates are giving him – shitheads gather like flies to honey whenever he starts shouting – eventually turning back to his food and aggressively cooking.
When Katsuki sits down, Eyebags Jr sits down right across from him, next to Kirishima and in Kaminari’s usual spot. Kaminari, of course, is off badly flirting with Ojiro, and as much as Katsuki wants to say that he’s taking Kaminari’s spot, there would be no use. He can already anticipate what the fucker will do – he’ll get up and ask Kaminari nicely if he can sit in his spot, and Kaminari, the idiot, will say yes.
“Are you trying to get killed?” Kirishima asks, a little stunned at Eyebags Jr’s nerve. Katsuki is curious about his answer.
“No,” Eyebags Jr says casually. He reaches over and takes another piece of Katsuki’s breakfast.
Katsuki punches him in the face.
“ Bakugo! ” Kirishima bursts, leaping out of his seat. Eyebags Jr is shocked – finally, finally , Katsuki has the upper fucking hand – and he raises his hand to brush the bruise blossoming over his cheek. The whole class is watching again, and Katsuki isn’t so opposed to it anymore. Not while he’s the one in control again.
“You should’ve gone for my nose,” Eyebags Jr says, licking his lips and looking into Katsuki’s eyes. “Are you taking it easy on me?”
“ Enough ,” Aizawa says, and Katsuki is tempted to break Eyebags Jr’s nose in front of him, just for spite. He glances over his shoulder at their teacher, sees the flashing red eyes, acknowledges that Aizawa is being serious and growls in response. His fist is still clenched, his breakfast spilled over the table from when he’d stood up so suddenly to hit Eyebags Jr, and slowly sits back down. “Both of you. Detention for the next two days. I want this dormitory spotless.”
“He was fucking asking for it,” Katsuki bursts, turning to face Aizawa.
“I’m aware,” Aizawa says flatly, “that is why you’re both getting detention.”
“He’s a brat,” Eyebags Jr replies simply, and that’s it . Katsuki leaps over the table and grabs a fistful of Eyebags Jr’s shirt, pulling him right into the next blow.
They end up in Recovery Girl’s office, Aizawa exponentially pissed off – Katsuki can see where his explosions singed his teacher’s suit, and he’s a little bit sorry about that but he won’t admit it with Eyebags Jr sitting right next to him – and Recovery Girl sympathetic but annoyed.
Once they’re both healed (turns out Eyebags Jr can do some real damage, and colour Katsuki mildly impressed), Aizawa turns to the both of them, his arms crossed.
“Forget detention,” he says. “If you two don’t figure out how to coexist, I’m expelling the both of you.”
“ What?! ” they both thunder. Eyebags Jr is on his feet, fists clenched and jaw tight, and Katsuki watches him for a second. It’s easy to see when someone wants to be the best, when someone is fighting for what they want because they deserve it, because Katsuki sees it in himself every single day. His hatred for Eyebags Jr loosens a little – not that fucking much though, Eyebags Jr is still a douchebag – and he looks back to Aizawa.
“Yes,” Aizawa glares. “Either you work this out, or you leave Yuuei. It’s your choice.”
Eyebags Jr curses under his breath and drops back onto his temporary bed, and Katsuki watches him, silent. He can’t figure him out, doesn’t even know where to begin. He showed up, changed everything, and seems intent on fucking with Katsuki until they’re both expelled or dead.
“Fine,” Katsuki growls, getting up. He shoves his hand out towards Eyebags Jr, who looks up at him with an utterly perplexed expression. “You’re not fucking worth expulsion, Eyebags, so truce or whatever.”
Eyebags Jr’s lips tighten into a line and he shakes Katsuki’s hand. “Truce.”
Katsuki leaves immediately after, brushing past Aizawa who doesn’t try to stop him.
And that’s how he ended up being friends with Hitoshi Shinso.
~
“You’re good at cooking, right?” Eyebags Jr asks him, a few weeks after their trip to Recovery Girl’s office.
Katsuki immediately bristles. “What kind of a fucking question is that? Of course I’m good at cooking . I’m good at fucking everything.” He resumes dicing his little cloves of garlic – Deku has a cold and, coincidentally, so does Icyhot – trying his best to ignore Eyebags Jr’s presence. It’s difficult, though, because the purple-haired freak seems intent on being un-ignorable. “The fuck do you want?” He demands, abandoning his garlic for a second time.
“Whatever you’re making,” Eyebags Jr says, peering into the pot. “It smells good.” Katsuki is tempted to say it’s just onions, celery, and carrots with some olive oil and butter, but Eyebags Jr didn’t ask, and Katsuki doesn’t think he’d care anyways.
“It’s not for you, dumbass,” Katsuki snaps. “Now get out. Fuck off. Go play on your stupid Switch or something.”
“You’re so sweet,” Eyebags Jr murmurs, still looking into the pot. “You act like you hate everyone, but you make them soup when they’re sick.”
“I’m what?! ” Katsuki shouts. His face is hot again. He picks up his knife, brandishing it at Eyebags Jr, who seems pretty unfazed for someone with a knife pointing at their chest. “Tell me that again and I’ll never cook you anything in your miserable fucking life.”
“Does that mean I get some?” Eyebags Jr asks, eyes flicking to the pot.
“ Get out. ” Katsuki warns, twitching the knife. Eyebags Jr holds up his hands in surrender and walks out of the kitchen, and Katsuki huffs, returning to his garlic. He finishes dicing it and scoops it up, dropping it into the pot and inhaling the savoury scent. It does smell good, but he didn’t need Eyebags Jr to tell him that.
Maybe ten minutes later, Eyebags Jr reappears in the kitchen with his Switch in one hand and a carton of strawberry milk in the other. There’s something tucked under his arm, and he places it next to Katsuki’s cutting board after putting his Switch and his strawberry milk on the opposite counter. Katsuki, a little dumbstruck, looks down at his favourite drink – hot cinnamon and cherry energy drink – and stares up at Eyebags Jr.
“That’s the kind you like, right?” Eyebags Jr asks, picking up his own drink and cracking it open.
“Whatever,” Katsuki snaps, turning back to his cutting board, cheeks flaming again. “I didn’t fucking ask you to buy me stuff.”
“Meh,” Eyebags Jr says, getting up onto the counter – his usual perch, it seems – and putting his Switch in his lap. “You didn’t have to.”
Katsuki turns around, fists clenched. “What are you fucking playing at, Eyebags?”
“It’s called being nice ,” Eyebags Jr says, putting in his earbuds. “And anyways, you’re giving me soup.”
“I never fucking said that,” Katsuki hisses.
Eyebags Jr just hums and turns on his Switch, lost in another world. Katsuki glares at him for a few seconds and then turns back to his soup, stirring it carefully, that stupid energy drink caught in his peripheral vision.
He drinks it instead of dumping it down the drain.
“Here,” Katsuki snaps, pushing a bowl of hot soup towards Eyebags Jr. Deku’s and Icyhot’s are both still on the counter, cooling a little. Eyebags Jr, however, doesn’t get such nice treatment, because Katsuki hates him. Eyebags Jr looks up from his Switch and his eyes go wide. He pulls out his earbuds, pushing his Switch to the side and carefully placing the bowl in his lap. “Don’t fucking make a mess.”
“Thanks,” Eyebags Jr says, accepting a spoon when Katsuki shoves it at him as angrily as he can.
“Shut the fuck up,” Katsuki mutters, grabbing two other spoons and tucking them into his pocket.
He takes the other two bowls and leaves the kitchen, heading for the elevator. He stops in front of Deku’s door, placing the bowl of soup carefully on the ground and laying the spoon next to it. He hammers on the door until Deku cries something about giving him a second, and Katsuki turns to leave before Deku can open the door. He gets back into the elevator, heads to Icyhot’s door, and does the same.
“Thank you,” Icyhot says, taking the bowl from Katsuki’s hands.
“If you got me fucking sick, I’ll kill you,” Katsuki snarls, walking away.
Eyebags Jr is doing the dishes when he comes back to the kitchen, swaying along to some kind of music he’s listening to through his headphones, and Katsuki finds himself unable to do much more than stand there and gawk. For one, Eyebags Jr has removed his ridiculously baggy hoodie and revealed that he’s got a good physique, and for another, he looks relaxed. Properly relaxed.
Katsuki clears his throat loudly, when he remembers how to function, expecting the tension to seep right back into Eyebags Jr’s shoulders. Except, Eyebags Jr turns and plucks out one earbud with a soapy hand, and stays completely relaxed .
“The soup was really good,” he says, drying his hands. “Also, I left your knife alone. It doesn’t look like one of the ones the school gave us.”
“It’s not,” Katsuki hisses. “I bought it with my own money.”
“It’s nice,” Eyebags Jr says, and then he’s putting his earbud back in and tidying up the rest of Katsuki’s mess. He hums badly along to whatever he’s listening to, and Katsuki just watches , enrapt. His face starts warming up and his heart starts beating a little faster and then he’s turning and running back to his dorm because this cannot be happening . He cannot be developing some kind of stupid fucking crush .
He collapses on his bed. Screams into his pillows a few times. Starts feeling better after a few hours.
Okay, whatever. So Eyebags Jr isn’t the most offensive person on the planet. That doesn’t mean Katsuki has to succumb to whatever is building inside of him. Who he likes and who he’s friends with is completely up to him. His emotions aren’t driving him and his goals – he is. And that means that this doesn’t mean a fucking thing in the long run.
And Eyebags Jr stated he’s not interested in that kind of thing when he met the whole class – the no friends thing or whatever – so fuck it. Katsuki can handle this, and in a few days, it’ll be gone. It’ll be fine .
~
He’s so fucking wrong.
~
He’s woken up by the sound of someone knocking on his door with the sort of indecency of someone who doesn’t respect getting 8 hours of sleep a night, and it immediately puts him into a shitty mood.
He gets up, answering the door with a glare set deep in his features, and is assaulted by the sight of Eyebags fucking Jr standing in a pair of running shorts and a flatteringly tight tank top, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. Katsuki tries to close the door in his face, but Eyebags Jr sticks his foot in the way, and even though it would be immensely satisfying to break his stupid ankle, he relents and walks back into his bedroom.
“Aizawa was supposed to train with me but he’s busy,” Eyebags Jr says, and Katsuki strips out of his pyjamas and changes into something more forgiving to sudden movement. “Do you want to train with me instead?”
“Figured,” Katsuki mutters bitterly. “Fuck you, Eyebags. I don't wake up for another two hours.”
“You’re up now,” Eyebags Jr says, leaning against his door frame. “And you’re changing into gym clothes.”
Katsuki rolls his eyes, steps towards Eyebags Jr, grabs the front of his stupidly tight tank top, and kisses him square on the mouth. It’s harsh and firm and nothing like how Katsuki imagined his first kiss would go, but whatever. Eyebags Jr tastes faintly of strawberry milk and smells a little more strongly of lavender, and if Katsuki’s being honest, it might be his new favourite combination.
He pulls back, but finds that Eyebags Jr chases after him, stepping into his space and kicking the door shut behind him. Oh .
His hands come up and rest on Katsuki’s ribs, his touch gentle and lips silk-soft, and Katsuki decides to suffer the consequences of his actions like an adult and slides his arms around Eyebags Jr’s waist, pulling him closer, until they’re both stumbling and collapsing on the end of Katsuki’s bed. Katsuki inhales sharply, catching himself with one hand, his other pinned beneath Eyebags Jr, and accidentally bites his bottom lip.
“Shit,” Eyebags Jr breathes, licking where Katsuki bit, and then Katsuki is pressing his own tongue against his, and it’s suddenly so much more intense than it was a few seconds ago. Katsuki has his legs straddling Eyebags Jr’s hips, bent over to keep kissing him, his hands pressed firmly against his stomach. Eyebags Jr puts his hands up Katsuki’s shirt, and that feels good, so Katsuki growls his approval.
“ Off , Eyebags,” Katsuki demands, breaking from the kiss to pull at Eyebags Jr’s shirt.
“You just had your tongue in my mouth,” Eyebags Jr breathes, and doesn’t he just look obscene like this – violet hair tousled and face flushed, lips a little red and swollen and wet, pupils pushing the indigo of his irises into tiny bands. “I’d rather you called me Shinso. Or Hitoshi. I don’t care which.”
“I’m not fucking calling you Hitoshi just because we’re making out,” Katsuki snaps, grabbing at Eyebags – Shinso’s – shirt. Shinso laughs breathily and arches his back to tear off his tank top, revealing a toned chest, his skin tone just a slight shade lighter than Katsuki’s. He splays his hands over his chest, incredibly attracted to Shinso, and then kisses him again, harder and hungrier.
“ Ah ,” Shinso breathes when Katsuki bites at his throat, hands roaming over bare skin. “Is – is that what we’re doing? Making out?”
Katsuki pulls back, licking his lips. “I’m not letting you fuck me.”
“I didn’t –“ Shinso chokes, going bright red. He brings his hands up to his face and hides there. Katsuki gets annoyed and pulls his hands away. “I’m a virgin.”
“So am I, asshole,” Katsuki snaps. “That was my first kiss.” He’s not ashamed of it. He doesn’t give a fuck what other people think.
“Then you’re naturally talented,” Shinso mutters, leaning up and sliding a hand into Katsuki’s hair. He drags him back down for a kiss, and Katsuki decides not to break the contact in order to say of fucking course I am , because kissing Shinso is fucking awesome . They roll over, Shinso pressing Katsuki into his mattress and giving them more room to move around, and Katsuki tugs on the violet hair at the base of Shinso’s skull, earning a soft gasp. “Baku-Bakugo, we – if – “ he stops, tucking his face into the crook of Katsuki’s neck. He inhales, and then licks there. “You smell like caramel.”
“Nitroglycerin,” Katsuki hisses, “keep saying what you were going to.”
Shinso pulls back to somewhat glare at him. “You’re really turning me on and I don’t want to push your boundaries.”
“Gross,” Katsuki snaps, “you’re fucking considerate too. Shut up. I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.”
“Okay,” Shinso breathes, and then they’re kissing and Shinso’s hands are wandering lower and lower, until his fingers are grasping Katsuki’s ass, spreading his legs a little further, and Katsuki can’t help the breathless moan that slips past his lips. Shinso makes an equally pleased noise, shifts his hips slightly, and then Katsuki can feel how hard he is, and he’s struck with the sudden need for Shinso to be inside of him .
“I lied,” Katsuki gasps, “I’ll let you fuck me.”
Shinso groans, pressing his face against the center of Katsuki’s chest. “I’m gonna die.”
“No you’re fucking not,” Katsuki says. “There’s lube in my desk. Either set your own boundaries or get the fuck up and get it.”
“You’re so demanding,” Shinso murmurs, kissing him slowly. “It’s hot. But isn’t this fast?”
“I don’t fucking take things slow,” Katsuki snarls, digging his fingernails into Shinso’s bare shoulders.
“No,” Shinso gasps, bucking his hips against Katsuki, “you really don’t.” He kisses a spot just beneath Katsuki’s jaw that makes his entire body go weak, and then looks at him, face flushed and breath coming in soft bursts. “Seriously, Bakugo. Are you sure about this?”
“Yes,” Katsuki huffs, keeping his voice soft.
“You are capable of vulnerability,” Shinso teases, getting off him.
“I’m about to let you fuck me, Eyebags,” Katsuki snaps. “I don’t know what the fuck else you want for vulnerability .”
Shinso waves him off, smirking a little and adjusting his shorts – Katsuki catches sight of his erection, however, and there’s a split second where he wonders how someone his age has a dick that big – and he begins rooting through Katsuki’s drawers. Katsuki’s going to have to reorganize all of that shit later, he just knows it. Shinso comes back with the lube, finally, and Katsuki pulls off his shirt and shimmies out of his pants and his boxers, kicking the clothes to the floor.
Shinso stares, lips parted and eyes wide, and Katsuki flushes. “The fuck are you staring at, eh?” he barks.
“You’re gorgeous,” Shinso breathes, stripping out of his own clothing.
Once he’s naked, and Katsuki has finished cussing him out for calling him gorgeous, he resumes his position over Katsuki and kisses him, slow and sloppy and the kind of kiss Katsuki thought he’d hate, but the kind that makes him want to melt into nothing. The slide of skin against skin is almost too much for Katsuki, but he digs his fingers into his shoulders and pulls him closer, slotting their dicks together. Shinso groans and Katsuki inhales sharply, and they repeat the movement until they’re both leaking against each other.
“I could come like this,” Shinso gasps, biting at Katsuki’s throat.
“Y-yeah,” Katsuki gasps, moaning softly as he arches his hips to make Shinso feel better. “Come on, you should’ve been fucking me already.” He adds, voice breathless but words sharp. Shinso laughs softly against his neck and then pulls back, fumbling around for the lube that disappeared in Katsuki’s sheets. Katsuki finds it, pressed right against his ass, and gives it to Shinso. “You do it.”
Shinso blinks. “Tell me if –“
“Yeah, whatever, fucking get on with it,” Katsuki hisses, spreading his legs more.
Shinso cracks it open, squirting some on his fingers, spreading it around, and then lowers his hand carefully. He presses inside gently, and Katsuki gasps – he’s done this to himself a little, mostly out of curiosity, but it feels really good when Shinso does it. Shinso presses deeper, mouthing down at Katsuki’s chest, sucking marks into his smooth skin, adding another finger after a bit. Two is a stretch, but it’s good, and Katsuki arches into the contact, moaning softly. Shinso speeds up, fucking him deep and hard with his fingers, and then adds another finger, and he brushes against something that makes Katsuki want to shout.
“ There ,” he chokes, “fuck, Shinso, right there .”
“I have you,” Shinso whispers against his lips. He fucks into him a little more, and just when Katsuki feels like he might come in the next few moments, he pulls out and gives a shaky exhale. “You’re like satin down there,” he says, and Katsuki flushes.
“Why’d you stop?!” he demands, writhing a little.
“Because I want you to come when I’m inside you,” Shinso admits, kissing the corner of Katsuki’s mouth. “Do you have condoms?”
“No,” Katsuki sighs. “It doesn’t fucking matter – we’re both virgins. Just fuck me already.”
“Okay,” Shinso breathes, opening the lube and slicking himself up. Katsuki watches – Shinso is definitely bigger than him – and his mouth goes dry at the sight. Shinso grins, cocky and flustered, and spreads his legs a little to let Katsuki watch him fuck his own fist. It’s hot. It’s really, really hot. Katsuki, of course, shifts and wraps his legs around Shinso’s waist, urging him on. “Shit, okay, just relax,” Shinso breathes, positioning himself.
“Not like this,” Katsuki mutters, deciding at the last minute how he’d like to lose his virginity and take Shinso’s. He flips them with ease, Shinso landing on his back with a sudden exhale, and then he straddles him, positioning himself over Shinso’s dick.
“Oh god,” Shinso breathes, hands on Katsuki’s hips, “I’m – I won’t last, Bakugo.”
“What the fuck ever,” Katsuki mutters, slowly sinking down onto Shinso’s cock. It is big, even bigger than it looked, and he hisses through his teeth as he slowly lets himself adjust while also getting to the fucking point. Shinso lets out a low groan and bares his throat, and if Katsuki weren’t impaling himself, he would lean down and suck a big, angry mark into Shinso’s throat. He might do that anyways. “Jesus, how are you this big? ” he blurts, amazed when another inch slips inside him. He already feels like Shinso is going to be rearranging his guts.
“So fucking tight,” Shinso gasps in response. He’s leaving bruises on Katsuki’s hips, but Katsuki doesn’t mind. “Shit, you know I like you right? I have a crush on you.”
Katsuki’s mouth slips open when he’s finally flush against Shinso’s hips, one hand over his stomach. “Fucking idiot,” he snaps, his thighs shaking. “I have a crush on you too. Now fuck me.”
Shinso snaps his hips and Katsuki chokes on a moan – it’s like a stab of lightning every single time Shinso moves, but the lightning is maybe the best thing he’s ever felt – immediately rocking down to get Shinso deeper . Shinso snaps up again, and they set a fast, dirty pace that leaves Katsuki whimpering and shaking and Shinso cursing as much as Katsuki normally does, his fingertips nearly breaking the skin on Katsuki’s hips.
“Ah, fuck, I’m gonna –“ Shinso suddenly gasps, and then he’s coming with a whine, and Katsuki can feel him twitching inside of him. It sets him off, and he comes untouched, painting Shinso’s chest with his come.
They keep moving, riding out the waves of their orgasms, and then they carefully stop, panting heavily.
Shinso’s throat is still bared. Katsuki leans forward and bites, sucking gently, and Shinso gasps when he pulls back. He smooths a thumb over the mark, pleased with how dark it is, and leans back on Shinso’s dick, exhaling shakily.
“I can’t hide that,” Shinso says.
“That’s the fucking point,” Katsuki snaps, getting off of Shinso. His legs are made of rubber and he has to sit down right after he stands up, getting his sheets dirty. He makes a face – no condom is great in the moment, but now he’s got a huge mess to clean up.
“I really didn’t see this coming,” Shinso breathes, running a hand through his hair as he leans on his elbow. “Why’d you kiss me?”
“I got sick of trying not to,” Katsuki says. “I didn’t see you fucking complaining.”
“Mm,” Shinso says, pressing a soft kiss to Katsuki’s bicep. He kisses it again, and again, and again, until Katsuki realizes that he’s smiling, actually smiling , and wipes the expression off his face.
“Cut that shit out,” he snaps.
“No one’s here,” Shinso murmurs, wrapping his arms around Katsuki’s waist and pulling him back to bed. Katsuki lets himself be pulled, finding a comfortable position to cuddle, snarking at Shinso internally the whole time. Shinso just holds him close and runs his fingers through his hair, and Katsuki tries his best to remain hateful towards the purple-haired freak in his bed.
It doesn’t last long.
“You’re like a porcupine,” Shinso says after several minutes, in which Katsuki was slipping off into sleep. “You’re all prickly and douchey on the outside but you’re super soft and sweet on the inside.”
“Fuck. You.” Katsuki mutters into the crook of Shinso’s neck. “I hate you.”
“Oh, yeah,” Shinso breathes, “keep talking to me like that, you know how much I like it.”
“I’ll fucking kick you out,” Katsuki snaps, and Shinso laughs, burying his face in Katsuki’s hair. “Everyone is going to be up in about an hour,” he adds, definitely not nuzzling closer to Shinso.
“Is this your way of inviting me to stay until then?” Shinso asks.
“No, leave,” Katsuki hisses, burying his face deeper. “Fucking die in a hole somewhere.”
“Okay,” Shinso says, starting to get up.
“If you fucking move,” Katsuki warns, “I’ll blow your fucking face up.”
“That’s what I thought,” Shinso replies, smug, resettling.
Katsuki thinks, maybe, he could get used to this.
~
“Did you and Shinso sleep together?” Ashido asks the next morning, when Katsuki is making breakfast on reasonably steady legs. He’s still fairly sated and weak, but not enough to be noticeable, and a shower certainly helped with snapping him back into his everyday routine. He looks at her steadily, expression flat and bitter, and looks back down at his eggs. He’s made enough for two people.
“No,” he says, turning off the stove. “Why the fuck would you think that?”
“Because you’ve got hickeys and so does Shinso,” Ashido presses. “Come on, you can tell me.”
“Fuck off,” Katsuki says casually. “It’s none of your fucking business even if we did.”
Shinso, speaking of the devil, comes into the kitchen with a towel around his neck, his lavender hair droopy and damp. Katsuki watches him, permits him to press a soft kiss to his cheek, and then turns back to his eggs while Shinso hunts in the fridge for more strawberry milk. Ashido just stares, gaping, and Katsuki chooses to ignore her completely. He serves the eggs on two plates, shoving one in Shinso’s general direction.
“Thanks,” he says, taking a fork out of the drawer. He eats a few bites and then kisses Katsuki’s cheek again – Katsuki decidedly does not blush – “They’re good.”
“Of course they are,” Katsuki snorts, getting his own fork, “I fucking made them.” He stands next to Shinso, shoulder to shoulder, and quietly begins eating.
“Okay, so are you two dating?” Ashido bursts, slamming her hands down on the counter.
“I’ll tell you when you get your head out of your ass and ask fucking Spider-man out,” Katsuki snaps. “You talk about being confident and you won’t just ask him the fuck out . Spare us all the bullshit and get it over with.”
Shinso laughs into his eggs.
Katsuki decides that maybe having Shinso’s humour as a standard for his insults isn’t the worst thing in the world.
~
“I think,” Hitoshi says carefully, sprawled out over their bed in their apartment, bought with their money. It’s uptown Tokyo, near Katsuki’s agency, and nearby the café that Hitoshi is working at until he has enough money to go back to school. Their cat – Noodle – is sleeping on his chest. “I think we should get married.”
Katsuki looks up at him slowly. He’s working out his schedule for the week on his phone. “We’ve been dating for three years.”
“Yes,” Hitoshi says, looking at him upside down, his hair down, “I think we should do it.”
“It’s illegal.”
“We’ll go to America.”
“Don’t we have to be citizens?”
“I don’t care.”
Katsuki huffs. “Okay, fuck, whatever.”
Hitoshi immediately sits up, dislodging Noodle. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” Katsuki mutters, looking back down at his phone. “Now fuck off. Feed Noodle. He needs to eat.”
“I fucking love you, Katsuki,” Hitoshi says reverently.
Katsuki blushes and scowls. “ Fuck off . Go feed our cat.” Hitoshi gets up, kissing the crown of Katsuki’s head as he goes, and Katsuki huffs again, leaning up into his touch. “I love you too,” he mutters, quiet enough that Hitoshi could miss it.
He doesn’t, of course, and turns right back around to kiss Katsuki properly.
“You’re a fucking dork,” Katsuki snaps, “and your hair looks dumb down.”
Hitoshi laughs.
~