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Sometimes, Izuku thinks agreeing to live with Kacchan might’ve been a mistake.
Not in a real way, of course!
He’s actually still amazed it even happened, if he’s being honest. And that Kacchan was the one who suggested it! Izuku definitely said yes way too quickly, but can you blame him? It’s thrilling knowing they’ve come so far over the years.
And most of the time it’s fun – when they both manage to actually be home at the same time, anyway. Separate careers, different schedules, and all.
But you’d think that sharing a dorm for three years on top of knowing another person practically since they were in diapers wouldn’t leave room for a lot of surprises.
You’d be wrong, though.
Kacchan’s a very particular person. He sticks to his routines, he doesn’t like mess. He sets up a chore chart for them to split duties and expects Izuku to actually follow it. He claims the kitchen for hours on Sundays so he can meal prep for the entire freaking week.
He’s…very comfortable in his body.
Izuku already knew all of that to some degree, but it wasn’t highlighted as much when they lived at U.A. with eighteen other people. A lot of their needs were taken care of for them – a good chunk of the cleaning, healthy meals, and so on. Kacchan still hogged the kitchen more than anyone else, but he ate Lunch Rush’s food just as much.
He actually wore shirts back then, too.
In fact, compared to the wannabe nudist colony member that Izuku lives with now, Kacchan was damn near modest in high school.
And sure, he gets it, it’s different living (mostly) by yourself. In your own apartment. Where you can do whatever the heck you want.
Even when said apartment is small and a bit crappy because Izuku has only recently started his first Big Boy job teaching at U.A. after a few years of playing struggling university student, and Kacchan is…somehow always broke, despite being a newbie Pro Hero.
It’s small and it’s crappy and it has no air conditioning, but it’s theirs.
Maybe Izuku will even spend one of his first paychecks on a wall-mounted AC unit so Kacchan can start wearing clothes again.
…He’s distracting, is all. Izuku knows they’re both guys so it doesn’t really matter, but he can’t help the way his eyes seem to want to linger. Tracing over sculpted muscles born from years of careful training, skittering across the patchwork of scars littering his arm.
The more prominent starburst in the center of his chest.
Kacchan’s always been impressive, but adult Kacchan is on a level that Izuku couldn’t have even dreamed up in his teens.
Not that he was dreaming about Kacchan in his teens.
Or now!!
Izuku can just appreciate how much work he’s put into himself. He knows firsthand how much dedication it takes, after all.
As much as he likes to appreciate Kacchan, though, he has papers to grade. And it’s a lot easier to do that when Kacchan isn’t strutting around their tiny living room-slash-dining room-slash-kitchen with his chest out for the entire world to see, glistening with sweat from the early summer heat and swampy humidity.
Anyway, none of that is the reason this whole thing is a mistake, though. A not-really-he’s-just-being-dramatic mistake.
The thing is, Kacchan doesn’t care about boundaries.
Izuku can remember the days when he was standoffish – not surprising, considering it was a practically their entire youth. His personal bubble had about a five-kilometer radius and he acted like a feral cat if anyone got too close.
But U.A. wore him down. Kirishima and Kaminari wore him down. The war, life, (death), everything… Kacchan was different by the end of it. He not only tolerated Izuku, but would regularly and WILLINGLY seek him out. Was always up in his business, in fact. Sitting near him in the common room, invading his dorm room to do homework, following him to the gym so they could spot each other in the weight room.
It was awesome.
Incredible.
Overwhelming.
Even now, Kacchan always leans in SO close when they’re talking. He hovers over Izuku’s shoulder, sits right next to him on the couch so that their thighs end up pressed together.
Sometimes he’ll use Izuku’s shampoo, but then every time he complains about the supposed shitty quality of it. So, like, maybe buy your own then?? Yeesh.
He’ll also accidentally grab Izuku’s shirts (when he bothers to wear one at all) and then never takes them off when Izuku points it out, even though they’re sometimes a size too small and often tight across his chest.
They always smell like Kacchan when Izuku gets them back, too.
Has he mentioned yet that Kacchan is distracting??
Anyway.
Anyway.
The shared property and Kacchan not caring whose stuff he’s using is really Izuku’s current problem, because earlier that day he was going over lesson plans for next week’s classes and had his laptop set up on the rickety side table they use for eating and then he got bored, okay? The stuffy air in the apartment had him drowsy and feeling lazy and he thought he might find himself a different kind of distraction for a few minutes and then he got distracted from that when his phone started buzzing with a call from his mom (oof, awkward), and even though he closed the laptop when he answered the phone, well.
Here they are.
Izuku’s slumped in front of the refrigerator, trying to soak up the cool air wafting out of it and also maybe hoping to uncover some hidden ingredients so he can throw together a dinner that won’t have Kacchan yelling at him, when the man in question lumbers in through the front door.
“Hey,” he says blandly, and Izuku glances over at him and then promptly has to do a double take because his uniform is covered in some kind of…purple goo? It’s matting down sections of his hair, as well, and has clearly been haphazardly scrubbed off his cheeks, and this isn’t even the first time he’s come home dripping in a questionable substance so, like, honestly…days like these, Izuku thinks maybe he actually doesn’t mind that he’s not out there doing the Pro Hero thing with everyone else.
“Oh my god,” Izuku starts, angling to march toward him and check him over, but Kacchan just waves him off and starts dumping his gear right there in the genkan.
“Don’t ask,” he grumbles, before Izuku can even begin to get the question out. He peels off his uniform top next, because of course he does, and Izuku’s eyes dart to the side so he can’t watch the way his shoulders move and his arms flex as each new inch of toned abs are revealed. “I’ll deal with this shit later, just leave it. Gonna jump in the shower, then you wanna go out and grab food? Ain’t nothing here I wanna eat.”
Izuku blinks and drags his gaze back up to Kacchan’s face, since it had mysteriously somehow been hovering around his waistline. “Oh, uh – sure!” He looks back at the still open fridge. “Not like there’s much here anyway.”
“I’m saying.” Kacchan points at him as he heads past on his way to the bathroom. “Shopping is YOUR job this week, remember.”
“I know, I know,” Izuku mutters. “I didn’t forget.”
(He totally forgot.)
Kacchan snorts out a highly skeptical noise and Izuku trails after him to slip into his own bedroom, figuring he may as well change into something that isn’t his after-school loungewear.
Fifteen minutes later they’re both back in the living room – Izuku in a shirt that doesn’t have any mystery stains on the front of it and Kacchan also in one of Izuku’s shirts that doesn’t have any mystery stains, plus blessedly goo-free.
“What’re you hungry for?” Kacchan asks, as Izuku shoves his feet into his sneakers. “Was thinking we might check out that new soba place that opened nearby.”
Izuku arches his eyebrows. “Without Todoroki?”
“Yes, Izuku, we’re allowed to fucking eat soba without him.”
“Are you sure it’s actually open, though? I thought that wasn’t for another week or so.”
“Shit, really?” Kacchan frowns. “Fuck. Now I want soba, though.”
“You could check the website?”
“Getting there, geez.” Kacchan reaches for Izuku’s laptop, which unfortunately Izuku doesn’t notice until he’s already got the lid up and fuckshitno–
“WAIT!” he shouts, voice wonky and pitched several octaves too high, but even that isn’t enough to drown out the embarrassingly loud moan that abruptly warbles out of the laptop’s speakers.
Kacchan’s eyes go round, and Izuku may not have One For All anymore but that doesn’t stop him from launching himself across the room in about 0.3 seconds to immediately slam the lid closed again.
“Why wouldn’t you use your PHONE?!” Izuku screeches, heat flooding his cheeks as Kacchan straight up boggles at him. “Why – Kacchan.”
Kacchan splutters, which is sort of a hilarious sight, but that’s not important right now. “I don’t – it was right there!”
“This is why you can’t keep using all my things without asking!!”
“Well how the fuck was I supposed to know you’d be watching that shit in the middle of the damn afternoon?!” The tips of Kacchan’s ears go red. “In our LIVING ROOM, Izuku, what the hell.”
Izuku makes some kind of garbled sound, hands flailing a bit before he settles on digging them back into his hair. “It’s not – I wasn’t–”
“It is, you were.” Kacchan scowls and folds his arms across his chest. He looks deeply disbelieving. “Didn’t take you for such a perv, ya damn nerd.”
“No, I literally wasn’t, though,” Izuku says in a rush, words jumbling up in his desperate need to make sure Kacchan understands that he was actually failing miserably to distract himself with terrible porn earlier. “I mean, I tried, but I couldn’t – I couldn’t. And then my mom called and–”
“Oh, gross.”
“I KNOW.”
Kacchan squints at him. “The fuck do you mean you couldn’t?”
“Ah.” Oh god. Izuku’s face burns. “I, um. I don’t know. I’m not very good at, uh. Um.” He gestures randomly. “All that. It’s…kind of a struggle.”
“A struggle,” Kacchan repeats flatly. “What?”
“I don’t know!”
“Like…fucking always, or what?”
“Not always.” Izuku stares at the wall behind Kacchan’s head, swallowing nervously. “Just usually.”
“That’s not–” Kacchan cuts himself off with a frustrated grumble, pressing a knuckle into the furrow between his brows. “Holy fucking shit, Izuku. You can’t jack off??”
Izuku briefly but desperately daydreams about having a Quirk that would give him the ability to create a bottomless chasm directly beneath his feet right about now.
“I never know what to think about!” He groans, burying his face against his hands. “Actually, you know what, we really don’t have to talk about this.”
“Actually, you know what,” Kacchan throws right back at him with a mocking lilt. “I think we do.”
“WHY?”
“Because I don’t know why you’d think watching that kinda garbage would help you at all!”
“Because…” Izuku feels his expression twist up in confusion. “Isn’t that…the point of it?”
Kacchan flings his arm out in a dramatic sweep toward the laptop. “I meant SPECIFICALLY that. The lesbian shit.”
“What’s wrong with–” Hnngh. Izuku’s not repeating that, it sounds so derogatory when Kacchan uses that tone. “With – two women?”
“I mean.” Kacchan gives a flippant shrug. “Mostly the two women part.”
Now Izuku’s the one squinting.
“Why…?”
“…You’re shitting me, right?” There’s some kind of look on Kacchan’s face. Constipated bewilderment mixed with a horrified sort of shock. “You think I wanna see that many pairs of tits bouncing all over the place?”
“Oh my god, Kacchan.”
“That’s probably what’s turning you off.”
“That makes NO sense.”
Kacchan scoffs and crosses his arms again, fingers tapping agitatedly against his bicep. He looks sort of ruffled and a little irritated for some reason. Like he didn’t realize it was possible for Izuku to have any kind of sex drive at all.
It’s just porn. Like, it exists for a reason. It’s not weird that Izuku searches it up sometimes!
“If you’re gonna watch that shit,” Kacchan finally says, “why don’t you just go for the regular stuff?”
Izuku’s head tips to the side. “Now I’m a little concerned what you think counts as regular.”
“Like – girl on guy. Boring, typical, right up your alley.”
“Um, rude.” A weird feeling curls in Izuku’s stomach. He shifts his weight, plucking absently at his shirt like he’s trying (fruitlessly) to create a breeze. Geez, their apartment is so warm. “But, uh. No. That’s not really…” His shoulders lift in an uncomfortable shrug. “Not my thing.”
Kacchan’s entire face scrunches up. “Lesbians are your thing but straight shit isn’t?”
“It’s the guy part.” Izuku flaps his hand around and directs his eyes up to the ceiling this time. “Just…you know. I’d rather they not…be there?”
He doesn’t know how to explain it’s too distracting when they are.
(Why are all the wrong things distracting in the right way?)
“What the fuck does that mean?” Kacchan asks.
“Nothing,” Izuku says quickly, turning away and heading for the door. “Can we just go already?”
“Wait – wait.” Kacchan’s hand darts out to grab his wrist. “Hold on a sec.”
Izuku whirls back around with an embarrassed glower. “What do YOU watch, then?” he demands, and Kacchan’s eyes widen again.
“The fuck?”
“When you’re–” Holy crap, what is he doing. They don’t talk about this kind of stuff! Kacchan may not know what boundaries are these days but he’s not that open. At least, as far as Izuku knows. That seems more like…heck, Mineta’s thing. Or maybe Kaminari.
…Actually, that’s probably where Izuku got the idea to go looking for lesbian videos in the first place, and maybe that should’ve been his first sign that he wasn’t on the right track.
Welp.
He’s already started, so…
“When you’re trying to get off?” he finally forces out, and Kacchan just snorts.
“Not fuckin’ porn, for one thing.”
Izuku scowls. “Okay, you know what–”
“But if I did,” Kacchan interrupts loudly, “it’d definitely be some random-ass shit with all those guys you apparently don’t wanna see.”
Izuku’s jaw snaps shut.
Oh.
Oh.
“…Oh,” he says weakly.
“Yeah.”
“So you’re…?”
“Yeah, Izuku.” Kacchan gestures at himself, up and down his whole body as if he thinks there’s some kind of flashing neon sign plastered across his chest and is wondering how Izuku somehow completely missed it. “Thought it was fucking obvious.”
Okay, well it wasn’t.
Or…Izuku just didn’t know. Were there clues?
Kacchan doesn’t look like he’s–
No, no, that’s not right, that isn’t how it works. Izuku may not know a lot but he knows better than that.
“I – I think that’s great! I support you, Kacchan!” he blurts out suddenly, leaning in with probably way too much overeager, earnest energy if the way Kacchan startles and rears back is any indication. “I’m so glad you told me. I’m definitely an ally, I want you to know–”
“Oh, fuck off.” Kacchan slaps a palm to Izuku’s forehead and shoves him away. “Holy shit, we’re not doing that. I thought you KNEW.”
“Ah…sorry…”
“Don’t apologize!”
Izuku bites his lip to keep another apology from immediately tumbling out of him.
“So fuckin’ annoying,” Kacchan grumbles, but Izuku doesn’t take it personally because Kacchan calls every person he likes annoying.
“If you’re not watching, um…stuff,” he says instead, rallying back. “Then what do you think about when you masturbate?”
Kacchan promptly goes pink across the bridge of his nose.
It’s oddly endearing.
“So this whole conversation was a fucking mistake,” he grouses, but Izuku figures he means it about as seriously as Izuku ever does. Kacchan curls a hand around the back of his neck. “But – shit, I dunno. People? Scenarios. Past experiences, I guess.”
Ah.
That’s unhelpful.
Izuku suddenly feels itchy in his own skin. Since when has Kacchan had past experiences to fantasize about??
He blinks a few times. Feels his lips twisting into a displeased frown.
“And if I don’t have any experiences like that?”
Kacchan’s eyes dart over to catch his gaze so fast, it almost makes Izuku jump. “Nothing?”
“No.”
“No girls??”
“No, Kacchan.”
“And no guys?”
“NO!”
“So what the fuck–?!” Kacchan cuts himself off, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Do you even know what you like, Izuku?”
“…I mean.” Of course he does. Right? Right!
Yeah.
Obviously.
Why wouldn’t he be into women or whatever?? That’s how it’s supposed to go. …Even though it’s totally fine that Kacchan’s not!
“Girls, right?” he finally says, in a more or less completely convincing tone. Sort of.
Kacchan gives him THE MOST incredulous look. Izuku’s almost offended just on principle. “Are you asking me?”
“No, I’m just saying.” Shit, he’s getting a headache. It’s too hot for this. And confusing. But also not confusing, because it’s not like Izuku doesn’t know what he’s attracted to. “It’s obviously girls.”
“Obviously,” Kacchan repeats faintly, and something in Izuku’s stomach turns over with a sickening lurch.
Sudden silence lingers between them. It drags on, dangerously close to becoming something strained and awkward that they won’t be able to stubbornly bulldoze past and pretend never happened.
Izuku lets out a shaky breath and edges toward the door. “Look, never mind. Should we–?”
“Yeah,” Kacchan says, immediately taking the out. He shoulders past Izuku. “Whatever, come on, let’s go.”
“Don’t forget to check about the restaurant, though.”
“I know.”
“On your PHONE.”
“I KNOW.”
* * *
Izuku manages to put the entire thing out of his mind.
…Mostly.
He’s afraid to try watching any kind of porn again, even in the safety of his own room, except for the one time he took Kacchan’s advice and threw on the first “boring” straight video he came across and got so uncomfortably hard just from watching some girl wrap her dainty little fingers around the massive cock jutting proudly outward from her partner’s body that he nearly threw his laptop off the bed.
It’s stupid, honestly, because that’s what’s SUPPOSED to happen. He’s just genuinely not sure if he was turned on because of the girl doing things or because…other reasons he can’t think too much about. Stuff that he shouldn’t be thinking at all, feelings that are weird and confusing.
Luckily, Kacchan never brings it up again, so it’s easy to move on from that bizarre blip in their friendship.
Summer continues slowly crawling by. The calendar flips to July, the heat steadily grows even more sweltering, Kacchan keeps strutting around in nothing but his gym shorts, and Izuku briefly considers dying or something to escape the sight of all that bared skin.
And then one day, everything slips sideways.
Izuku actually remembers to go shopping this time, but it’s too hot to do any real cooking. Still, he’s standing around in the kitchen after he gets home from U.A., pretending he’s going to start making dinner, when Kacchan once again comes lumbering in through the front door.
Dressed head to toe in full sweats.
He even has the sweatshirt’s hood pulled up over his head, cinched tight around his face. A pair of sunglasses rests on the bridge of his nose and what the heck.
The sight is so utterly bizarre that Izuku stops short when he turns to greet him.
It’s JULY.
Kacchan usually seems to have forgotten shirts were ever even invented.
And yet he’s wearing a hoodie.
W h a t.
“Can’t talk,” he grunts as Izuku gapes at him, voice so low and raspy that it’s almost inaudible. There’s something strange about it – like he’s trying to purposefully speak from deep in his throat. “Quirk incident, I’m fine, gonna take a nap.”
Every word is clipped, pushed out in a rush. His shoulders bunch up around his ears as he ducks his head and tries to scoot past Izuku, and there’s something just so off about his…everything. It could be because of his bowed head, but it almost seems like he’s not even standing as tall as he usually does.
All that aside, though – Quirk incident?!
“Is it more goo?” Izuku asks, sticking close to Kacchan’s heels as he attempts to escape to his bedroom. “Did it do something? Kacchan, wait, are you sure you’re okay??”
“Said I’m fine,” Kacchan literally growls at him, and seriously, why is he talking so weirdly? Does he not want Izuku to hear his voice?
“Kacchan–”
“IZUKU,” he snaps, and oh, what, that’s not…no. That’s not right at all, there’s not enough edge to it, or gravel, and it’s definitely not the right pitch, what on earth??
Izuku freezes behind him, just outside his room, and Kacchan draws to a halt, as well. He braces one hand against the doorjamb, his head dropping even lower as he exhales a resigned sigh.
“Look,” he says, and now that he’s not trying to mask anything, Izuku can immediately pick out all the ways he sounds so wrong. Kacchan turns around to face him and pulls off his sunglasses. He’s not all hunched up anymore but his eyes are definitely still a few inches lower than they’re supposed to be. “Don’t freak out.”
“Kacchan, oh my god,” Izuku says, immediately freaking out. “Did you shrink?? Was it some kind of size changing Quirk?”
“I fucking wish,” Kacchan mutters. He taps the sunglasses against his palm for a few seconds, glaring somewhere in the vicinity of Izuku’s left shoulder. And then, with another heaving sigh, he reaches up to push the hoodie off his head.
Whatever’s wrong isn’t instantly obvious, though. It’s still Kacchan, still his piercing red eyes, still his perfectly sloped nose and striking cheekbones, still his strong jawline–
Or…no. No, actually, something about his jaw does seem…softer. His mouth is different, too, lips just a tad fuller, and as Izuku’s gaze keeps soaking in every detail, drifting lower and watching the shifting tendons in his neck as Kacchan swallows, he realizes there’s a distinct lack of any kind of bump in his throat. It’s just smooth all the way down and holy fucking crap.
“Kacchan,” Izuku whispers, eyes blowing wide, and an adorable little scowl twists Kacchan’s features.
“Yeah, so the Quirk turned me into a freakin’ girl,” he says. Izuku’s jaw drops, stare locked on the pink flush blooming in Kacchan’s cheeks. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
Pfft, okay, he picked the wrong roommate if he expects to not talk about Quirk related things.
“For how long?” Izuku asks, ignoring the way Kacchan promptly rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Is it…” His gaze trails downward without Izuku giving it any kind of permission to. “Is it – everything?”
Kacchan’s brows arch. He looks almost amused, but mostly still exasperated and possibly a tinge annoyed. “Yep,” he says easily, and then reaches over his shoulders to yank at the back of his sweatshirt until it tugs free over his head.
He’s got a tank top on beneath it.
…It’s not doing much to hide the brand-new additions to his chest, though.
Look, Izuku is pretty familiar with the sight of Kacchan’s naked upper half these days. He knows his pecs are damn near otherworldly – big and firm and they fill out his uniform (and Izuku’s t-shirts) so well.
Just as a neutral observation, of course.
But that’s not what’s hiding beneath that tank top.
“You have boobs,” Izuku says stupidly. He feels dazed. He feels…almost bereft? Of what, he has no idea.
“Wow, good call, genius,” Kacchan snarks at him, turning briefly to toss the hoodie and sunglasses somewhere into his bedroom. He folds his arms beneath the much more prominent swell of his chest when he faces Izuku again, which only manages to lift his breasts even more until they look like they might spill right out of his baggier-than-usual shirt, and Izuku’s pretty sure he’s about three seconds away from having an aneurysm. “Got a whole-ass vagina, too. You wanna ogle that, as well?”
He doesn’t mean it. Obviously. He’s probably just irritated because Izuku can’t stop standing there like a gobsmacked moron. He can’t stop staring. His own chest feels tight and his stomach is twisted up in knots and everything is weird and Kacchan is a GIRL and Izuku really kind of doesn’t like that but also–
Also.
Is this the answer to all of Izuku’s problems?
Or one of his problems.
One of his stupid problems.
If he can’t get off while watching other women, maybe he can at least get off while watching Kacchan??
…Er.
No.
Not – no. Not watching him. But, like. Something, something, he has no sexual experiences of his own to draw inspiration from and no girls he’s interested in dating or doing anything with and Kacchan is right there and…
And.
“Can I?” Izuku asks, and Kacchan’s gaze goes owl-wide.
Ah, shit.
Izuku is insane.
A solid ten seconds or possibly an eternity passes as they stand there, watching each other in a shared disbelief that those words actually just left Izuku’s mouth.
But eventually, Kacchan slowly manages to pick his jaw up off the ground. His tone is downright dangerous when he speaks.
“Can you what?”
Hah. In a horrifying turn of events, Izuku realizes he’s going to continue being insane.
“Can I…” He gestures aimlessly in a vague direction that might be the entire area below Kacchan’s belt. “Look?”
Color explodes across Kacchan’s face. A deep, tomato red that bleeds out from his nose and reaches all the way to the tips of his ears.
“Are you SERIOIUSLY asking me that?!” he demands, and Izuku lets out a strangled sound.
“You literally offered!”
“NOT LITERALLY.”
“But – Kacchan,” Izuku whines, doubling down. “It’s a perfect opportunity! You’ve got…all of that, and I don’t know what the heck I’m doing or how to do any of it and watching educational material isn’t helping and I’m still having a hard time orgasming and, Kacchan, please.”
“You… Did you just–?” Kacchan sputters, fumbling his words, practically steaming at the ears as he tries to comprehend whatever craziness Izuku is spewing. “Did you just call porn educational material?”
“I feel like you’re focusing on the wrong thing here.”
“DEKU.”
“Kacchan?”
“Have you lost your damn mind?” Oh, he’s still all red. Izuku’s starting to wonder if he’s actually just pissed and not embarrassed at all. Kacchan makes a sweeping gesture at his crotch. “They don’t even know how long this is supposed to last!”
“That’s okay!” Izuku says earnestly, as though that’s somehow the biggest issue that’s holding them back. “Quirks like this usually have a minimum window of twelve hours or so.”
Kacchan groans. “Izuku. What are you actually asking me? You just wanna see it?”
“It’s a good place to start!” Izuku gives him a sheepish grin. “You know, I’ve never seen one in real life before.”
“Holy shit.”
“But if you let me, um. Test it out? Then maybe that would actually give me an experience to draw from when I’m trying to masturbate in the future!” Izuku beams this time. Officially deranged and gone off the deep end.
Maybe he can claim Aizawa-sensei took him out drinking after classes.
Kacchan’s nose wrinkles. He peers at Izuku for a long, long moment before all at once the tension drains out of his shoulders and he hums out a considering little sound.
“You’re saying you wanna be able to fantasize about me when you’re jerking off?”
–Gah.
Izuku jolts, panic zipping up his spine. A nervous laugh tumbles out of him, high-pitched and wobbly, as a whole multitude of warning sirens start wailing in his brain. “Um, I don’t think that’s what I said exactly–”
“Okay,” Kacchan interrupts with a careless shrug, and Izuku’s words stumble to a halt as he sucks in a wheezing breath. Kacchan turns on his heel and waves for Izuku to follow him into his room. “Fine, sure, whatever, nerd. Consider this an early birthday present.”
“Wait!” Izuku nearly trips over his own feet as he hurries to follow. “Seriously? Kacchan, for real??”
“Not my fuckin’ body.” The tank top gets ripped off and flung to some random corner of the room next. Kacchan keeps his back to Izuku, though, which is probably a good thing since his brain is still reeling. “Do whatever you want to it, I don’t care.”
That seems…not entirely correct.
Maybe it’s not Kacchan’s real body but it’s still the one he’s currently inhabiting. He’s going to feel anything Izuku does no matter what, right?
More than anything, it’s THAT thought that has heat dropping low in Izuku’s gut. Even when Kacchan finally turns around to face him, hands propped on his hips, breasts just suddenly there – Izuku’s somehow still thinking about all the things he can do to make Kacchan feel good.
How to make him react. Make him squirm under his touch, make Kacchan gasp and groan and beg for more and shit, Izuku’s going to find himself with an erection here soon if he’s not careful.
He blinks, realizing he’s been staring unseeingly at Kacchan’s boobs. They’re nice enough… Mostly because it’s Kacchan, Izuku thinks, but they are pretty. Not too big like they always seem to be in porn. They’re perky and cute, nipples already standing at attention despite the muggy temperature of the room, but Kacchan’s pecs are normally great anyway so these aren’t really anything to write home about.
Kacchan’s watching him, he notices. Or glaring at him, maybe. Lips pursed, brow creased. Izuku can’t read anything in the careful blank façade of his gaze. There’s a dullness in those carmine eyes that makes something squeeze almost painfully behind Izuku’s ribcage.
“Ready?” Kacchan asks, and then he pushes his sweatpants down past his hips before Izuku can say anything. His underwear gets shoved out of the way at the same time and oh god, it’s really, really strange not seeing his dick.
Not that Izuku regularly looks for it but after a lifetime of shared locker rooms and bathhouses and being roommates, he’s seen it enough. Accidentally. You know.
There’s a similar thatch of hair there now but that’s about it.
“S’fucking hot,” Kacchan’s muttering to himself as he kicks the sweatpants away. “Stupid wearing that shit home, should’ve known you’d clock me in three seconds flat.”
“You expected me not to notice you’re suddenly four inches shorter?” Izuku snorts. “Your voice gave it away first, though.”
Kacchan glances back at him and it’d almost be just another normal conversation between them if not for the fact that Kacchan’s standing there naked with female parts he isn’t supposed to have.
It doesn’t feel all that awkward, though. Is the thing.
Izuku doesn’t know what to make of that.
“Take your shirt off,” Kacchan demands suddenly. “At least give me something to look at.”
Ah.
Well, it’s hot anyway. Might as well.
Izuku strips off his 10th Anniversary Silver Age All Might Celebration tee and watches as Kacchan’s eyes go half-lidded.
“Better,” he murmurs. His cheeks are flushed pink again.
Izuku has to force himself not to think about how attractive he is, instead letting his gaze fall lower to inspect the juncture between his thighs.
There’s really…not much to see.
He huffs out a nervous laugh. “It’s kind of hidden, huh?”
“What?” Kacchan blinks and visibly shakes away whatever haze had momentarily overtaken him. He glances down at his borrowed body. “Oh. Yeah, their junk is all, like…inside.”
Izuku takes a step toward him. “So. I can just…?”
“Yep,” Kacchan says, and then drops onto the bed and lets his legs spread wide.
It’s…wet.
An even deeper pink than the color still highlighting his cheekbones.
Glistening between folds of skin, a hooded bit at the top that Izuku vaguely registers as the place he should focus on if he wants to turn Kacchan into a writhing mess on the bedspread.
He falls to his knees, scooting forward, hands coming up to brace against the soft skin on the inside of Kacchan’s thighs, and Kacchan makes this stunted, strained little sound that Izuku instantly wants to hear more of. When he looks up at him, Kacchan’s staring wide-eyed back.
Izuku’s honestly more interested in the look on his face than what’s going on between his legs. He doesn’t know why, can’t explain it or justify it to himself.
He really, really thought it’d be more arousing seeing one of these in person instead of through a computer screen. But it’s sort of just more of the same.
When Kacchan’s thighs twitch beneath Izuku’s palms, though – that’s intriguing.
“You don’t care if I touch?” he confirms one more time, and Kacchan’s face does something complicated. Izuku thinks maybe he’s belatedly comprehending that he is, in fact, going to feel whatever Izuku does, and that maybe it will even feel good, and that he’s not going to be able to act all unaffected throughout the whole thing.
Excitement bubbles in Izuku’s stomach. There’s an eager energy thrumming through him, anticipation building in his veins.
Kacchan swallows. Looks away.
“Go for it,” he says, and Izuku pushes his legs farther apart. Another tiny grunt escapes him. His boobs lift as he breathes in deep.
Izuku knows he’s never done this before. Obviously.
He also knows (now) that Kacchan is gay and super uninterested in women’s bodies and will have no idea if Izuku’s fumbling, inexperienced ass is doing stuff right or wrong or terribly or any of that.
It’s a very freeing realization.
Izuku grins.
And then he dives face-first into Kacchan’s crotch.
Kacchan yelps, his entire body jolting at the first swipe of Izuku’s tongue. He shoots a hand out to tangle his fingers in Izuku’s hair and yanks, which would be easy enough to ignore, but Izuku doesn’t want to immediately overwhelm him to the point that he backs out of this. So he dutifully lets Kacchan tug him away and that turns out to be perfectly fine because he’s graced instead with the furiously blushing, furiously shocked, possibly furiously pissed look on Kacchan’s face.
“You said TOUCH,” he seethes, eyes so big that they might be seconds away from popping out of his skull.
“I am touching,” Izuku argues back. He sticks his tongue out, distorting his next words as he continues, “With my tongue.”
“You fucking–”
“You said you didn’t care.” Izuku gives him a knowing look, eyebrows curved in a teasing arch. “Not your body, right?”
Kacchan stares at him in dumbfounded awe. “You’re such a fuckin’ dick.”
“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Izuku says. His arms curl around Kacchan’s thighs so he can give him a sharp tug, pulling his ass closer to the edge of the bed and causing him to tumble flat onto his back in the process. “It’s gonna feel good.”
“You don’t know,” Kacchan sneers up at the ceiling, but he’s trembling a little. His eyes slide shut when Izuku leans in again, hot breaths ghosting over the hooded bit of his cunt. “Shitty can’t-get-off virgin.”
“Bet I can get you off,” Izuku murmurs, before he licks a thick, wet path through Kacchan’s slick folds. Kacchan jolts again, gasping, and when Izuku peeks up at him, he sees that he has a hand pressed firmly against his mouth.
Well.
That’s no fun.
Challenge accepted, though.
Izuku gets to work pressing open-mouth kisses against Kacchan’s clit. Drags his tongue over that tiny bundle of nerves, closes his lips around it and sucks. Kacchan’s back arches off the bed as he cries out, muffled beneath his palm. His legs press in close to Izuku’s head, knees trying to snap closed, but Izuku easily shifts his grip and pushes his thighs wide. He laves his tongue over him again and Kacchan moans.
“Oh fuck,” Izuku hears him mutter, voice both breathy and very affected. His hand slips away from his mouth when he has to drag in a ragged breath. “Shit, shit, shit.”
Izuku gives him another suckling kiss and Kacchan’s hips roll upwards against his face, seeking more pressure, friction, pleasure.
“Holy fuck,” Kacchan gasps. He finds Izuku’s hair again, but this time he doesn’t try to pull him away. His other hand drops to twist into the material of the bedspread. “Fuck – wait. Wait, Izuku, oh my god–”
Izuku pops up with a satisfied slurping sound. “You know…” He traces a curious finger between Kacchan’s labia, skirting around his already soaking entrance and dragging upwards until he can rub gently against his clit. Kacchan jerks into his touch, the rest of his body shivering. “Mineta used to say–”
“Do NOT talk about that perverted grape fuck right now,” Kacchan gripes. “What the hell??”
“He used to say,” Izuku stubbornly continues. “That if your girl isn’t squirming like–”
“Not a fucking girl.”
“–LIKE she’s having a demon exorcised out of her, then you’re doing it wrong.”
Kacchan blinks.
Izuku’s eyebrows lift.
“…Okay,” Kacchan grumbles, the color in his ears deepening. “Like he has any goddamn clue.”
Izuku hums. “We’ll see,” he says, and then returns to eating Kacchan out like his life depends on it. Kacchan curses as his head falls back again, and it turns out it’s true that he can’t seem to stop moving. His spine curves, his hips buck, his thighs twitch and shake in Izuku’s grasp. Broken moans and bitten back grunts keep tumbling past his lips, seemingly out of his control.
It’s addicting. Intoxicating.
Izuku wants so desperately to make him fall apart.
His tongue massages into him, pressing, stroking, over and over, and Kacchan’s voice slips up an octave, his body going tense all over.
“Fuck, Izuku – Izuku, I think – shit, holy shit, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop–”
Kacchan’s hand clenches in Izuku’s hair, his hips snap upwards, and a long, wrecked groan tears from his throat as he shudders through the orgasm that wracks his body.
Heh. That was fast.
Izuku listens to him and doesn’t stop. He keeps sucking on his clit, drinking in the mess of noises he makes as he cries out and shakes, twisting beneath Izuku, halfheartedly trying to dislodge him even though Izuku’s got him locked in an ironclad hold.
“You motherfucker,” Kacchan gasps breathlessly, jerking almost violently when Izuku’s tongue stiffens and flicks in a series of short little staccato movements. “Shit – hah – IzukAHHH–!”
Strong thighs squeeze around Izuku’s head. Kacchan’s practically vibrating on the bed, his shoulders pressing back into the mattress while the rest of him starts to lock up. Izuku flexes his tongue, presses the length of it fully against him, and a frantic keen bursts out of Kacchan as his entire body quakes again.
“A-aahh, fuck, FUCKING – god,” Kacchan pants. Izuku finally pulls away and Kacchan collapses onto the comforter. Boneless, chest heaving as he fights for air. He’s trembling all over, still convulsing with aftershocks that make his legs twitch and have his breasts swaying with every ragged inhale.
Izuku rises up on his knees to get a better look at him. Takes in his sweaty, flushed face and rakes his eyes down over his shaking limbs. His gaze lingers briefly on his boobs but then doesn’t really drift lower than that. Honestly, the blissed-out expression Kacchan’s making is a lot more fun to focus on. It relaxes his features, smooths away his stubborn scowl lines and leaves him looking dazed in the best kind of way.
He seems like he’s floating in some kind of post-orgasmic haze, and Izuku doesn’t want to take that feeling away from him so he just watches it happen for a minute. Lets his hands drag gently upward over Kacchan’s hips and ghost across his stomach.
Eventually, Kacchan comes back to himself. His eyes refocus and find Izuku, but he doesn’t say anything. Almost like he doesn’t know WHAT to say. In truth, he looks a bit stunned.
“I think you came twice,” Izuku pipes up helpfully, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth. He’s a mess, he belatedly realizes. Lips and chin wet, covered in saliva and slick. He wipes at his chin next while Kacchan tracks his every move.
“…Tell me you were drooling,” he says, voice a rough rasp that’s the closest he’s been to sounding like himself since he got home.
“Uh, no.” The corner of Izuku’s mouth quirks. “This is mostly you.”
“Ugh, shit, that’s so gross.” Kacchan slaps his hands over his face with an embarrassed groan. “Why the fuck do they get so – so wet?!”
“It’s because you were turned on.”
“SHUT UP.”
“Nah.” Izuku grins, reaching a hand down to slip his fingers through the folds of Kacchan’s cunt. Kacchan jumps, a breath hissing in through his teeth. “So, did you?”
“Did I – what?” Kacchan asks, strained. He blinks rapidly a few times, twitching again when Izuku continues to rub against him. “Hnngh.”
“Come twice?”
“How the fuck should I know?” Kacchan’s hips roll down, bumping against Izuku’s hand. “I think – hahhh – probably. I guess. Yeah?” A surprised bark of a laugh tumbles out of him. “Holy shit, I think I could go again.”
“Really??” Izuku asks eagerly.
“Yeah.” Kacchan laughs again, more in disbelief this time. “What the fuck.”
He’s still soaked, practically dripping with it, so Izuku’s fingers slide over him a little too easily as he toys with the idea of going for that third orgasm. So easily, in fact, that there’s no resistance at all when he dips lower and accidentally finds his middle finger sinking right inside Kacchan’s hole.
Kacchan freezes.
Izuku also freezes.
It’s so, so warm inside of him. Soft, kind of squelchy. Kacchan’s body sucks him right in and it’s the first time all night that Izuku’s actually found himself abruptly curious what it’d feel like to sink his cock into him, too.
“What the shit,” Kacchan mutters, wriggling his hips a bit. “That’s a whole lot less effort. The hell kinda garbage is that?”
Izuku presses his finger in deeper, but only briefly. As soon as Kacchan’s face does a weird thing, his nose scrunching up into something that might be the start of a grimace, he whips himself free.
“What do you mean?” He lifts his hand, idly observing the sticky strand that stretches between his fingers. Kacchan knocks his heel into Izuku’s shoulder, calling his attention back to that wonderfully flushed, scowling face. “Effort for what?”
Kacchan hesitates. His gaze drifts to the side.
“Taking anything up your ass,” he finally says, and Izuku’s dick throbs.
Which is a bit startling.
He’d sort of forgotten about his own…situation. But now that he’s thinking about it, he is tenting his shorts a little.
“…Oh.”
Kacchan looks at him again, lips pressed together. “What, that gross you out?”
“No,” Izuku says honestly. “Just. Hadn’t really thought about the mechanics of it before.”
Of course Kacchan has, though. He probably needed to. He’s probably done it before.
If he’s had past experiences and all that.
Izuku wonders if he liked it. He wonders who it was with. He wonders what it’d feel like to breach Kacchan’s body like that, to push in so deep and have those strong muscles constrict around him.
He wonders why he’s suddenly so insanely jealous of this mysterious nobody who was lucky enough to be the one to do that with him.
Izuku frowns. “So was it better or worse?”
“What?”
“This.” Izuku gestures at the entirety of Kacchan’s borrowed lady bits. “Is it better than getting a blowjob or what?”
“I don’t – what?” Kacchan’s brows pinch inward. “I mean, it was… It was fine? Weird.” He huffs, rubbing irritably at his cheek. “Different. It was good, fuck.”
“But was it–?”
“HOW would I know the answer to that?” Kacchan interrupts, glowering up at him. “Who the fuck else do you think I’ve been with?”
It goes quiet.
Izuku’s eyes feel huge in his face.
“But you said…you use past experiences. For masturbation material–”
“Can you NOT say masturbation?” Kacchan complains. “Fucking god, Izuku. I just said that as, like, a general statement or some shit. I’m ASSUMING that’s what other people who aren’t idiots do.”
Izuku keeps staring at him. At the red tips of his ears, the sweaty hair matted against his forehead and sticking up in odd places everywhere else.
He’s so unfairly attractive, even like this. In this body. But it’s not the same, not even close. Izuku wishes–
“So you’re a virgin, too,” he blurts out. Not a question. And a bit indignant, if he’s being honest. “Why are you giving me such a hard time, then??”
“When do I not give you a hard time?” Kacchan says in a grumbling tone. His eyebrows arch. “You can’t even figure out how to jack off apparently.”
“Okay.” Izuku clambers up onto the bed, right over Kacchan, straddling his stomach. His hands find his boobs, palming the pillowy masses and giving them a squeeze. Kacchan chokes on the most feminine sounding squeak he’s made yet, and then promptly looks mortified that he’s even capable of making such a noise. Izuku brushes both of his thumbs over Kacchan’s nipples. “Maybe I don’t come easily but you sure seem to. You wanted to go a third time, right? So let’s go a third time.”
“Oi, hold on,” Kacchan says, alarmed even as his chest arches beneath Izuku. “I didn’t–”
Something shifts.
Kacchan’s voice cracks, high-pitched one second before dropping off a cliff into a lower register mid-word. There’s an almost comedic sort of ~POOF~ and Izuku’s hands slip and flatten onto Kacchan’s pecs.
“–mean you could-ohhh holy shit.”
Izuku blinks.
Kacchan stares back at him. Eyes wide.
His Kacchan.
Perfectly sloped nose, striking cheekbones, strong jawline, and all.
“Oh,” Izuku breathes. “There you are.”
“Fuck, sorry,” Kacchan says, and it sounds so fucking good to hear that familiar deep timbre. Izuku watches as his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows. “Shit. Izuku, get off, I didn’t know I was gonna–”
“I missed you,” Izuku interrupts, and Kacchan goes still.
“What?”
“I missed you.” Izuku grins at him. “Welcome back, Kacchan.”
Baffled confusion washes over Kacchan’s face. “I was – here? The whole fucking time?”
“Eh, sort of. Parts of you were missing.”
“What the hell are you talking about, ya damn nerd?” Kacchan snips at him, and Izuku laughs as he sits back. He lets his palms smooth over Kacchan’s chest, admiring his return to boobless-ness, and then slides them lower over his abs. Can’t help watching in amusement when Kacchan sucks in a quick breath. “Oi, Deku, seriously,” he says in a rush, brow creased in concern. His hands hover uncertainly over Izuku’s thighs. “If you don’t get off, it’s not gonna be my fault when my dick starts making shit real weird for you.”
“Get off?” Izuku asks. “Or get you off?”
“What?”
Izuku scoots down the length of Kacchan’s body, brushing right over said dick and cataloguing the strangled grunt of a sound he makes, storing it away for later. He ends up back on the floor on his knees, right between Kacchan’s legs again.
And yep. Kacchan is definitely hard. Swollen length slapped up against his belly, already leaking from the tip.
Izuku’s mouth waters. Whatever pitiful thing was happening in his own shorts earlier is put to shame by the raging erection that begs for attention there now.
Kacchan lurches up into a sitting position – or tries to, anyway. Except Izuku pushes him right back down with a hand hard to his stomach, then uses that same hand to curl his fingers around Kacchan’s cock.
“Fuck – IZUKU.”
“It’s fine, Kacchan.” Izuku strokes upwards, gripping him in a gentle squeeze. “This way you can compare, right?”
“Hah?”
“It’s for science or something.”
“You’re outta your fucking mind,” Kacchan grits out. He’s already panting again. “It’s – shit, it’s really sensitive.”
“Yeah?” Izuku breathes hotly over the purpling head, watching the curve of Kacchan’s neck as he tips backwards with a muffled groan. “Even though this body didn’t come? Interesting.”
“Izuku.”
“Keep saying my name,” Izuku murmurs, and then he opens his mouth and swallows Kacchan down.
…And promptly gags, but.
Gold star for effort, right? Plus ultra attempt and all that.
He pulls off with a startled cough, hacking a bit and forcing himself to ignore the hysterical, snorting laugh that bursts out of Kacchan.
It’s fine. First try! Izuku’s a fast learner, he’ll get it.
“You’re insane,” Kacchan says, still snickering as he struggles up onto one elbow, until Izuku shuts him up with another firm stroke of his hand. “HnnGGHH.”
“You want to come or not?” Izuku asks, eyes narrowed.
“I don’t–” Kacchan falls backwards again. The muscles in his belly jump as Izuku continues pumping his hand. “Izuku, I don’t fuckin’ know if I can.”
Izuku presses his thumb against Kacchan’s slit. Drags his hand slowly back down as Kacchan’s hips buck upwards.
“You can,” he says decisively. “I believe in you.”
He swallows Kacchan down again, a little more carefully this time. Adjusting to the feel of him in his mouth, the weight of his cock on his tongue.
Every sound Kacchan makes sounds better in the very extremely male rumble he naturally has. Wheezing gasps and strained moans that reverberate up from his throat. Each one sends a shot of arousal straight through Izuku’s core, right down to his dick.
Kacchan’s not quite as squirmy in this body, and admittedly, Izuku DOES kind of miss that. But he still jolts and twitches, his hands twisting into the bedspread and clenching tight. When Izuku slurps back up, sucking hard on the tip, that gets him a super satisfying shudder that trembles through the entirety of Kacchan’s frame.
“Bastard,” Kacchan chokes out. “Fuck, what the fuck, you said you didn’t like guys!”
“I don’t,” Izuku says, except he still has Kacchan’s dick in his mouth so instead of words it’s just a mumbled mess of incomprehensible noise.
This is easily the most turned on he’s been all night, though.
Hell, it’s the most turned on he’s been in weeks.
Months.
Ever?
And it’s because he gets to do this to Kacchan.
Because he gets to have Kacchan writhing beneath him.
Because it’s Kacchan.
Izuku groans, palming his own cock through his shorts with his free hand. His fingers curl, his grip tightens. He groans again and Kacchan yelps out a strangled curse from the vibrations, his hips stuttering. His legs ended up thrown over Izuku’s shoulders at some point, god knows when, and his ankles cross, thighs pressed close against Izuku’s ears as his body goes taught.
“Izuku, Izuku, Izuku,” Kacchan slurs out breathlessly. “ShitgodFUCK. Gonna come, I’m gonna come, Izuku–!”
Izuku’s throat convulses. He swallows Kacchan down as deep as he can manage, jerks his hand in his lap, and Kacchan tips over the edge with a hoarse shout just as Izuku paints the inside of his boxers.
The spunk down his throat makes him gag again, but he doesn’t pull off until Kacchan’s shaking from overstimulation and starting to curse him out.
Only then does he pop off and inhale a lungful of desperately needed air.
“F-fuck, fuck, shit, Izuku – Izuku.”
Kacchan looks wrecked. Utterly debauched.
Amazing, incredible, perfect.
So perfect.
Izuku is the biggest dumbass on the entire fucking planet. He had this right here in his life? In his own apartment? This whole dang time??
“Knew you could do it,” he croaks, and oof, god. His voice is shot. Also, his jaw is sore as hell. Geez. “Good boy, Kacchan.”
Kacchan shivers all over again.
“I’m – what.” His mouth works, trying fruitlessly to find words. “What. What the fuck just happened?”
“What do you think?” Izuku climbs back onto the bed again. Shimmies his way up to the headboard, bodily dragging the other man along with him. “You came three times.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Kacchan collapses back onto one of his pillows. He’s gulping down oxygen like he just ran four marathons in a row. “Fuckin’ hell. I actually don’t think I can move.”
“I came, too,” Izuku says. “If you were wondering.”
Kacchan looks at him. Then drops his gaze down to stare at his shorts. Then, in a flat tone, says: “Congrats, I guess.”
“Pretty sure I won’t have trouble masturbating ever again.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Nothing now.” Izuku laughs, high and breathy and stupidly thrilled. “I feel great.”
“Glad I could be of service,” Kacchan grumbles.
Izuku rolls onto his side, curling up against Kacchan and slinging a leg over his hips, which puts a quick stop to all his bitching and moaning.
He blinks instead. Redirects his stare up to the ceiling and glares at the light fixture there. “So are you fucking gay now or what?”
“No,” Izuku replies, more a kneejerk reaction than anything. But – probably no. Maybe no.
“Bi?” Kacchan demands. Agitated.
“No, I don’t think so.”
He has to think about it. Do some serious self-reflection.
See if he wants a label at all. He doesn’t really need one, after all.
“What the…” Kacchan pauses. Groans and drags his hands over his face, pushing them back into his hair. “You’re infuriating, you know that? Figure out what the hell you want and leave me the fuck out of it next ti–”
Izuku stretches forward to kiss him smack on the lips. One hand reaching out to gently cradle the side of his face.
In turn, Kacchan briefly tenses up, but luckily he melts into it almost immediately. Kisses back with a hunger that sets all of Izuku’s everything ablaze.
They part after a moment, green eyes catching red and holding.
“I want you,” Izuku says, and Kacchan exhales a shaky breath. “Is that okay?”
“…You better be shitting me.” Kacchan draws back a bit. Just far enough that he can give him the stink-eye. “Is it okay? You’ve gotta be the most oblivious dumbfuck to ever walk on this stupid planet.”
“Is that a yes?”
“YES, it’s a fucking yes! The hell, you think I’d let just anyone damn near paralyze me with sex?”
“I sure hope not, but you’ve been kinda cagey with what all you’re into.”
“Because YOU’RE what I'm into!” Kacchan says loudly. “It’s always fucking been you, Izuku. For fuck’s sake.”
Izuku’s heart swells. “Oh,” he says, smile stretching wide, before he lunges forward to kiss Kacchan again. Pressing in close, marveling at the feel of it. They slot together like this is exactly where they’re meant to be. “You like me, Kacchan?”
“Oh my fucking god,” Kacchan mutters. “YES. For some reason.”
“Is that why you’re always walking around here shirtless? …Or in MY shirts?”
“If I’m shirtless, it’s because we don’t have freaking air conditioning in this shit-ass apartment.” Kacchan goes pink across the bridge of his nose, something that Izuku is rapidly becoming obsessed with. He looks so good when he blushes like that. Kacchan clears his throat a bit sheepishly. “…But if I’m wearing one of your shirts, maybe it’s because they smell like you.”
Izuku grins. Warm and happy. …Probably a little too warm, because it’s still hot as shit and now they’ve gone and made Kacchan’s room extra humid, plus the guy is like a damn furnace, ugh. Izuku’s just noticing how much sweat there is between the two of them, especially with their bodies all plastered against each other, also his shorts are still gross and dear fucking god he really needs to take a shower.
Like, yesterday.
But he is happy, though! That part can stay.
Happy and not-totally-but-possibly-a-LITTLE gay for Kacchan.
Or maybe a lot gay for Kacchan.
Who knows.
(It’s the second one.)
(Izuku is so so so glad they decided to live together.)
FIN