Archive of Our Own

It’s a strategic choice to show up late to Jirou’s birthday party. If Katsuki’s gotta be at a club with his friends, he’d prefer them to be two drinks ahead, so that everybody’s already having too much fun to pay attention to him.

He arrives after eleven. The club is dark and mostly dance floor. Just a mass of bodies ebbing and flowing with the bass. It seems more like Kaminari than Jirou, but she’s always happily indulged his nights out the same way he always gets tickets to the virtuoso guitar bands she likes.

They’re real sweet.

With the blacklight shining, everyone is cast in odd colors, so Katsuki can’t even pick out Mina’s hair. He circles the place and sends three unreturned texts before he gives up and makes his way to a long oval bar where the lights are a bit brighter. Given half a chance, Deku will find him. 

Sure enough, just as Katsuki’s laying down yen for his whiskey and coke, a Kacchan! cuts through the music and Deku barrels into his side. 

“You’re here!” he says, throwing an arm around Katsuki’s shoulders. There’s enough momentum behind the hug that their heads knock together and Katsuki rolls his eyes before elbowing Deku away. 

“Said I would be.”

Deku’s drunk smile is wide and dopey. It doesn’t make him ache like it used to.

He projects over the music, wafting vodka breath at Katsuki. “It’s the whole crew. There’s even some of the B-class here. Setsuna and Kinoko came. Neito. Shinsou’s back from his mission.”

Katsuki takes a drink and doesn’t say a word back, but Deku has a look in his eye like he knows exactly why Katsuki’s wearing the tight black jeans that make his ass look great. He probably does know, the weirdo. 

Katsuki’s never said a word to him about Shinsou, but lack of communication has never stopped Deku from seeing straight through him. It’s stopped feeling like pity, that attention. The way Deku still greets him first, says goodbye to him last, and asks him to dinner every Friday. It’s friendship, delivered at like, 100% One For All.

Just friendship. 

“So where is everyone?” Katsuki asks.

“Oh! Dancing mostly! There were a bunch of us over there by that halogen lightning bolt. Do you see Mina?”

Katsuki squints into the crowd and finally spots Mina’s pigtails glowing orange in the light. Kirishima, Sero, and Uraraka are with her. Todoroki is nearby too, standing stock still on the dance floor like a loser. Katsuki laughs. “Where’s Jirou?”

“She’s hanging out at the other bar. The one with the purple lights, do you see it? Kaminari had them change the color for her birthday. Isn’t that sweet?”

“The sweetest.”

Once he knows where to look, Jirou is easy to find sitting on a barstool facing the dance floor. She’s wearing something on her head that sparkles—a tiara, maybe—and that’s definitely Kaminari’s doing. Behind her on the bar is a scattering of tall shot glasses, most still holding some sort of glowing blue liquid. Kaminari stands next to her with an arm slung around her neck, head bobbing to the beat.

“C’mon! You should say happy birthday.” 

Obviously Katsuki was going to, but Deku grabs him by the forearm and tows him through the outer edge of the dance floor. 

There’s another, inevitable, “Kacchan!” and Kaminari runs and leaps into Katsuki’s arms. Katsuki only catches him because the alternative is for them all to go tumbling onto the dance floor like assholes.

“Get off me, Sparky.”

Eyes bright, Kaminari lands a kiss on his cheek before Katsuki can disentangle himself. “You’re here! Kyoka, it’s Kacchan!”

Jirou smiles and says, “Hurray!” with a tenth of his enthusiasm. 

“Wanna dance, Kats?” Kaminari’s words trip close and fast, like he’s indulged in something extra today. “Or do you want some… no. You wouldn’t. How about a drink? You have to do a birthday shot. It’s mandatory!”

It’s Denki’s turn to pull Katsuki around by the arm, drawing him up to the bar. “I call it Heartbeat Distortion!” he yells, brandishing one of the blue shots. “In honor of Kyoka.” 

Katsuki looks at the shot with suspicion, and then at the purple tinge lining the inside edge of Kaminari’s upper lip. “What’s in this?”

Jirou slides off the bar stool and under Kaminari’s arm before he can answer. “It’s just a Kamakazi,” she says. “Mostly vodka and blue curaçao.”

“With cranberry to make them purpler,” Kaminari adds. “See?” He holds it up to the blacklight, but it still looks blue.

Jirou smiles and kisses him on the cheek. “Yep.”

“Alright. Sure. To the birthday girl.” Katsuki tips up, pouring it onto the back of his tongue to avoid staining his lips. “Now go dance before you annoy me.”

Kaminari laughs and grabs Deku’s wrist. “C’mon, Hero Deku. Let’s go get you laid.”

Deku trails along after with a furrowed backward glance that Katsuki gives the middle finger and then a shooing flip of his fingers. Fuck off and have fun. 

Katsuki hadn’t really thought that wound was gonna heal, but the years have made this easier. He can watch Deku be straight in public without feeling like puking. Maybe he was stripped bare, but something’s growing back. Katsuki sucked somebody’s cock in a club last week and it was actually kinda fun. Kinda wild, to feel that way. To want something and to let it burn hot enough to turn off his brain for a minute. 

“Thanks for coming.” Jirou speaks right into his ear so she doesn’t have to yell at him. 

“Happy Birthday,” Katsuki says back, knocking his whiskey against her beer bottle. He settles back against the bar with an arm around her shoulders and sips on his drink. Watches the crowd shimmer in flashing lights. He spots Neito dancing, but Shinsou isn’t with him.

When the melting ice clinks against his teeth, he sets his glass on the bar. “You get everything you wished for?”

Jirou tips her beer up for the last swallow before setting the bottle next to his glass. “Almost. Wanna dance with me?”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, takes her hand, and leads her into the crowd. “You on whatever Kaminari took?”

“Not yet,” she says, squinting as a stripe of blue light moves across her face. “Maybe later.”

That second drink is sizzling warm in his bloodstream as they start moving. Jirou’s one of the few people Katsuki likes to dance with, at least among their friends. Hot dudes in hookup clubs are a different story.

She does this thing with her quirk, Katsuki isn’t even sure it’s on purpose, but she amplifies the beat of the music, somehow gives it more depth, so that he can feel it roll down his spine and up through his chest. It’s subtle, like everything Jirou does, but it feels good.

On his left, a few teenage girls are whispering and bobbing closer with giggly glances, so he snugs Jirou right up against him. 

“This okay?”

“Of course,” she says, moving with him easily. 

They stay like that for a bit, comfortable and vibing, as the music changes into a dirty pulse. Katsuki grins and rolls their hips together. A good sport, Jirou dips deep against him, teasing back, when suddenly Kaminari slides in front of them with a glowing white smile. 

“Oh, baby,” he growls. “My girl and Kacchan? Getting nasty without me?” He scoots right into Jirou’s space, sandwiching her between their bodies and grinding against her so hard Katsuki has to brace his weight.

“Oi! Watch it.” 

Jirou laughs and squirms, trying to push Kaminari away, but he wraps his arms around both of them, grabbing Katsuki by the ass. “No, no. We could be so good together. Kacchan!” he calls as Katsuki twists out of his hands. “Come back!”

“Leave me out of your weirdo sex games,” Katsuki says, dodging his grasp. 

Kaminari pouts in show before he tugs Jirou closer and wraps himself around her. His words are lost under the music, but they’re probably gross. Katsuki makes his way back to their spot at the bar but Neito’s there now, along with some dude whose name he can’t remember from UA. Lizard looking guy. That’s a no.

Katsuki turns back to the dance floor. He’s not looking for Shinsou, and he doesn’t see him anyway. He spots Mina and Kiri making out and Deku laughing between two girls who can’t be more than a year out of high school. That’s also a no. 

Okay then. Bathroom it is. 

Katsuki heads toward the back of the club, but before he’s taken ten steps, Deku is bobbing along with him. 

“Hi Kacchan! Are you—”

“Gotta piss.”

“Okay! Do you want company?”

Ten years ago, Katsuki would have blasted Deku through the bar. Five years ago, he would have prayed for a bathroom stall blowjob. Today he simply says, “I can hold my own dick, Deku.”

“Okay!” Deku pats him on the shoulder and wisely disappears.

Club bathrooms are gross and Katsuki starts to regret choosing to escape here as his shoes make sticky sounds, peeling away from the floor. Good thing he doesn’t actually have to piss, because there are like eight guys lined up at the urinals. Katsuki picks the cleanest looking sink and washes his hands, just to give himself something to do before he has to go back out to his friends and act normal.

No towels, so he shakes his hands off, then pats the leftover water on the back of his neck and rakes it through his hair. 

“Hey look y’all,” comes an irritating voice from the urinal line. “It’s big hero Dynamight. But he’s too good to piss with us losers. He’s just here to do his hair.”

Katsuki sharpens the crease of his collar and ignores them. 

“Too good to talk to us, too,” another voice says. 

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “You want an autograph?” He doesn’t look even as there’s murmuring among the assholes.

“Nah, but I’ll give you mine.”

Katsuki glances over his shoulder just in time to see the fucker closest to him turn away from the urinal mid-stream. His piss splatters across the floor and Katsuki jumps back, barely fast enough to keep his shoes clean.

“You gotta death wish, you little bitch?” Katsuki growls. It’s more likely that he’s drunk off his ass, but either way.

Three guys with wide eyes zip up and hustle out the bathroom door, but there are five who move much slower, turning around with grins and shoulder nudges. 

The one who’d like to lose his dick shrugs, smug and showy, as he tucks it back in his pants. “What are you gonna do, fight us?”

Another guy with the world’s saddest chin beard steps up. “Pretty risky move for a big, important hero. Or maybe you’re missing the front page? Getting all pissy worked wonders for your brand last time.”

The “last time” he’s referring to is when Katsuki was caught on video taking a swing at a civilian. In his defense, the dude was talking shit about Deku, Katsuki was dead drunk, and the punch went wide by a mile. It was just bad luck that somebody had their phone out. 

He dropped five spots overnight and assholes haven’t stopped goading him since.

Still.

“Might still be worth it,” Katsuki says, cracking his knuckles. He oughta just flip them the bird and walk out. He really should. Turn around, dumbass. 

A sudden bang sends everyone’s heads whipping and Katsuki’s mouth falls open as Shinsou Hitoshi strolls out of a bathroom stall with a wide smile like he’s greeting a press corp. It’s been a few months since Katsuki’s seen him, but no new piercings this time, just silver hoops in his ears. He's wearing ripped black jeans and a band t-shirt with the sleeves pushed up, showing swirls of black ink on his wrists. Looks like leaves, but Katsuki’s never seen all of it, and it's not like he could ask. Shinsou swaggers past Katsuki, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy, bumping his shoulder on the way.

“Guys,” he says, too loudly. “Guys, seriously. Let’s not be hasty here. Dynamight’s a hero, and he just fixed his hair. Maybe he has a photoshoot later.”

God, he’s such a dick. Katsuki’s ready to leave the whole lot of them concussed, when Shinsou suddenly elbows the piss dude in the neck and drops him to the floor with a sucker punch. 

“I’m not so precious,” he says while everyone’s still frozen. 

“Oh fuck off,” Katsuki snaps, jerking Shinsou back by the shoulder. Of course he can’t just do something nice without mouthing off about it.

“Come on, number three.” Shinsou winks at him. He must not have seen the new rankings. “Your hair does look great.” 

While Shinsou’s cracking jokes, another asshole steps in and swings at him. Even staring at Katsuki, Shinsou must see it coming, the dude’s practically telegraphing it, but Shinsou just shifts left an inch and takes the hit on his shoulder. Then he waits, grinning, while the guy closes in to land a second hit on his ribs. 

Katsuki’s about to step in and save his ass when Shinsou grabs the guy’s elbow, jerks him down, and knees him in the face.

It’s vicious and efficient. Katsuki's got his eyebrows raised in appreciation when the man with the broken nose throws himself at Shinsou. 

Two more guys come at Shinsou from the side, and Katsuki isn’t gonna let him get tag-teamed, so he jumps in and the nice clean fight devolves into chaos.

Shinsou’s still talking shit because apparently that mouth just goes, the dude with the broken nose is smearing blood everywhere, and one guy is so drunk he’s mostly just falling on people, but he must weigh two-fifty, and he knocks Katsuki all the way to the disgusting floor. 

It’s like being pinned under Gang Orca. Katsuki could use his quirk, but in a confined, tile room, an explosion is likely to give everyone temporary hearing loss, and that would be really bad press. A third-degree burn would probably get the guy to roll off of him, but that’s also gonna make the news. Katsuki’s about to risk it when Shinsou hauls the drunk off of him by his collar and waistband and sends him tumbling into a stall.

“Piece of shit.” Shinsou scowls, wiping his cheek. Katsuki didn’t see the hit, but he is absolutely going to have a shiner tomorrow. 

“Thanks,” Katsuki says, even though this whole thing is mostly Shinsou’s fault. 

Katsuki rolls up to his feet and ducks a sloppy punch. He shouldn’t have any trouble with a handful of drunks, but it’s a handicap that he can’t use his quirk or leave them broken. One guy might have a speed quirk. He’s faster than the rest and he lands a few hits on them both before Shinsou catches his wrist and breaks his arm. All that hand-to-hand training he did with Sensei clearly paid off, but things might be spiraling out of control here.

Katsuki pushes someone back with a boot to the chest and gets a hand on Shinsou’s shoulder. “Hey, Shinsou, we should get out—”

He cuts off cursing when Shinsou reels back to give someone a concussion and catches him in the face with an elbow. 

“Oh shit,” Shinsou says, looking over his shoulder as Katsuki stumbles. Then he calls, “Hey, fuckheads,” and everything goes silent. 

Katsuki looks up, confused, as Shinsou releases his grip on some guy’s collar and the dude just sways with his arms at his sides. His eyes gleam violet. 

Oh. 

Then Shinsou steps into Katsuki’s space, pushing close, taking Katsuki’s face in both hands. “Shit.” Shinsou’s breath smells like vodka and oranges. Like that shot. He’s way too close and he’s definitely drunk. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s fine.” Katsuki takes a step back, but Shinsou follows and Katsuki’s ass hits the sink.

“No. You’re bleeding. It’s going to bruise.” Shinsou catches the hem of his sleeve and wipes Katsuki’s cheek. It’s wet, so he wipes again, and tilts Katsuki’s face toward the light.

“I’ve had worse,” Katsuki mumbles, looking away.

“Who would dare?” Shinsou leans in and kisses him on the cheekbone like he’s a child. Katsuki is too surprised to move. “Sure, I’d put some bruises on you, but never this angel face.”

Katsuki freezes. Shinsou’s holding his chin so tightly Katsuki can’t even turn to see him. “What did you say?”

Shinsou leans closer until the sink is digging into Katsuki’s lower back. His thumb strokes over Katsuki’s cheek where it stings. Then glides to his ear, tracing around the edge of it. “You are. So. Pretty.”

Goosebumps prickle all down Katsuki’s arms. “Let go,” he says quietly, putting a hand on Shinsou’s wrist. 

The hum of music through the door only emphasizes how quiet it is in the bathroom. Shinsou draws a deep breath through his nose. “Right.” His grip loosens and Katsuki turns towards him. Only Shinsou didn’t back away. He’s right there, staring into Katsuki’s soul. Then his nose scrunches up, kinda apologetic, and his hands slip down Katsuki’s neck and disappear. “Sorry.”

He’s still close, still touching at the hip, still looking with big, dark eyes, but any second now, Shinsou will turn away. Somebody’s going to open the bathroom door, let in the noise, notice the blood, call the cops. 

Katsuki’s heart thuds. Before the tension can break, he licks his lips, leans forward, and kisses Shinsou’s mouth. It’s kinda soft. Kinda quick. Ugh, it’s… it’s not right. That’s not how people kiss in bars. 

Shinsou barely responds—but then he sort of recoils, and, fuck, this is awful. Katsuki’s turning away, face hot, when Shinsou surges forward.

It’s a kiss like being tackled. Hurried and rough, forcing his chin up and his mouth open so that Shinsou can lick inside, so slick and hot Katsuki melts for it. Throbs with it. Forgets to breathe because Shinsou knows exactly how to kiss people in bars. He catches Katsuki by the back of the neck, lifts at the hip, and Katsuki slides onto the sink, dizzy with the vodka taste of Shinsou’s tongue.

His legs part and Shinsou steps between his thighs, nudging closer, pushing them wide, and Katsuki’s electric. He’s all-in. He’s—

Shinsou eases back and Katsuki chases him like a loser, almost tipping off the sink until Shinsou braces him with a hand on his chest. Shinsou blinks slowly, eyes dipping down to Katsuki’s mouth and then back up to stare at him. The violet of his irises shimmers like an oil slick when he uses his quirk. Katsuki’s never seen it so close before.

He’s startled by another kiss—soft and quick like the first one—then Shinsou pushes him back, grins, and nods his head at the five guys he’s currently brainwashing. 

“Hey so, Bakugou.” He kisses him again. “I could do this all night. And most of the foreseeable future… but can I get you out of this bar before someone smells a news story?”

Right. They’re idiots. Katsuki nods. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

Shinsou tugs him forward until his feet touch the ground. “Lead the way.”

Heart pounding, face hot, Katsuki marches for the door, with Shinsou crowding behind him. They hustle back through the club. Katsuki’s heading for the exit, but Shinsou gets a hand around his wrist and tugs him toward the bar where Jirou and Kaminari are looking at something on his phone. 

“We’re headed out,” Shinsou announces, totally unnecessarily. Hasn’t he ever heard of an Irish goodbye?

Kaminari looks up and flinches back. “Holy shit, what happened to you two?” He turns on the flashlight on his phone and blinds them until Katsuki slaps his hand away.

“Nothing,” he says at the time Shinsou says, “Oh, just a little altercation in the bathroom.” 

Kaminari’s eyebrows raise higher. “O-kay. Anyone else involved?” Jirou hands Katsuki a cocktail napkin and taps her cheek. He wipes his own, and it comes away with a smear of blood that looks black under the bar lights. 

“I mean a few guys, but I’ve still got them. Maybe I should have them drop their phones in the….” he trails off, looking vaguely over Kami’s shoulder. “You know? Don’t worry about it, I’ve taken care of it. We’re fine.” As Shinsou talks, he plucks the napkin out of Katsuki’s hand, folds it in half, licks it, and then wipes along Katsuki’s hairline before he can duck away.

“Ew, stop.”

Shinsou keeps talking. “We’re great, even.” He shoves the napkin into Katsuki’s back pocket and tugs him closer with a grip on his ass. “Just wanted to say goodnight. Thanks for inviting me. Happy birthday. Good to see you. All that shit.” He looks over his shoulder toward the bathroom. “Is that cab guy you use working tonight?”

The cab guy is fast and his car is clean enough that Katsuki immediately starts counting the yen in his wallet because they’re gonna need a big tip for getting in bloody. It only gets worse because Shinsou is all over him. 

“Not in the cab,” Katsuki hisses, ducking away from a kiss. The last thing he wants is to see this in the papers tomorrow. 

Shinsou groans and settles back, running his fingernails back and forth over the seam of Katsuki’s jeans in his inner thigh. “You and I have such wildly different problems.”

“Tell me about it,” Katsuki mutters, squirming. Bet nobody ever put pictures of Shinsou puking out a cab door on Twitter.

“Can’t tell you,” Shinsou says, hand sliding up to cup his cock through his jeans. “It’s classified.”

The ride is short and Katsuki doubles the fare in tip because they probably got blood on the upholstery and Shinsou felt him up the whole way.

Katsuki smacks the stack of yen into the man’s hand while Shinsou opens the car door and shoves him out. He’d have landed on the pavement except Shinsou’s got one hand under his arm and another on his waist and he’s hauling Katsuki up the sidewalk.

“Jesus,” Katsuki says, scrambling to get his feet under him. “In a hurry?”

“Like never before.” Shinsou shoulders through the glass doors and into the lobby. “How do we get to your place?”

Katsuki grabs the hand on his hip before it slides down into the waistband of his jeans. “Fifth floor.”

They pull up in front of the elevator, which currently has a glowing digital twelve above the doors. Behind them, someone else is coming up the front steps.

“Stairs?” Shinsou asks.

Katsuki nods and heads for the metal door in the back corner of the lobby. Thank god Shinsou finally backs off for a second because they’d both eat it if he tried to race up the stairs with his hands still under Katsuki’s clothes. 

Katsuki pulls ahead by half a flight, which gives him just enough time to unlock the door before Shinsou reaches past him to throw it open, push him in, and pin him against the wall next to his coat closet. 

The apartment is dark and Katsuki’s eyes haven’t adjusted so he can’t see a thing. Shinsou doesn’t kiss him, just pushes their bodies together and sighs contentedly into his neck. He’s breathing hard from the dash up the stairs. 

Katsuki tentatively sets both hands on Shinsou’s hips, and at the slightest pressure, Shinsou presses flush against him. 

“Bakugou,” Shinsou murmurs. His mouth is at Katsuki’s ear and his breath is hot. 

“What?” Katsuki says eventually. 

“What d’you wanna do?”

What the fuck does he think? Even now, Shinsou’s worming a thigh between Katsuki’s legs and he’s obviously letting him. He’s hard. They’re both hard. 

“What do you think?” Katsuki asks, trying to sound acid, but mostly breathless. 

“Well, I dunno.” Shinsou rolls his hips again, teasing them both with friction. Why won’t he just kiss him? “Pretty, prissy thing like you. You’re almost too perfect to touch.”

Katsuki grits his teeth as Shinsou drags a finger along his neck. “Then mess me up.”

Shinsou pulls back to look at him and Katsuki can just make out his eyes, all wide, and the way his mouth twists up at the side. “Oh shit. Gladly.”

He ducks in and puts his mouth right where his finger was. Katsuki’s eyes close and he sags with relief, giving in to the sensation of warm and wet. Shinsou’s hands slide under Katsuki’s clothes. More warmth. Sliding over his ribs. Forcing their way into his waistband. Shinsou grunts in annoyance and jerks at the button on his jeans. 

“I don’t wanna think,” Katsuki says. Admits. Maybe Shinsou will know what to do with that. 

“Then shut up and take your clothes off.” Shinsou grabs hold of Katsuki’s shirt and starts tugging it out of his pants. Out of the way. He jerks down the zipper of Katsuki’s jeans and worms his fingers into the waistband, pads of his fingers ticklish as they run down his abs. 

God, he’s going straight for—Katsuki gasps.

“Wait.”

Shinsou waits. His hand stills and Katsuki bites his lip, searching for words. Shinsou is handsome, one inch away in the dark. 

A moment passes and Shinsou dips back onto Katsuki’s neck, hands sliding onto his bare hips and squeezing like a reassurance that they won’t go further. “I’m gonna wait like this, okay?”

Katsuki grunts and pushes him back, looks right into his eyes. “I don’t do this shit casual.”

Shinsou raises an eyebrow. “Who’s casual? I’m wearing a tux.” He says it so plainly that Katsuki’s eyes dip down to confirm that Shinsou is still in a band t-shirt that now has blood on the collar.

“Hey, I’m serious.” Katsuki feels himself blushing for the millionth time, but Shinsou grabs his chin and kisses him. Once, no tongue, but plush and heavy. There’s weight behind it. Katsuki’s fingertips tingle and his vision flickers.

“He says he’s serious,” Shinsou says mockingly, “And I’ve been in love with him since high school.”

Katsuki tips his face up to see Shinsou. “What?” 

“What?” he mimics like a twelve-year-old. “You, Bakugou. You have the most tappable ass on the planet. Did you know you’re literally hotter than god? Casual? Who could be casual about touching the face of god?

“You did not just say that.”

“Which part.”

“Every part.”

Shinsou thumbs over Katsuki’s lower lip. “Sweetheart, daydream, babydoll, Bakugou. I’m as serious as a bullet. I’m gonna give you dick so bomb you’re gonna wake up with a cumcussion. No one will ever give it to you so good. I’m so serious you’re gonna need a 12-step program to recover, but don’t. Okay? You should just stay addicted.”

Shinsou laughs into Katsuki’s neck. “Get it? A-dick—”

“This talk is over.”

“Mmm, yeah.” Shinsou licks him. “We can talk after I fuck you.”

“You’re going to pass out,” Katsuki says.

“—About how I’m the most serious person you’ve ever met.”

“You’re going to pass out before you even get inside me.”

Suddenly Shinsou’s hand wraps around his neck, pushing him hard against the wall. His other hand shoves into Katsuki’s underwear to palm his erection and Katsuki moans like a little bitch.

“Not in a million years, Bakugou.”

What were they talking about? Katsuki can hardly breathe as Shinsou looms up in his vision. 

“I’d crawl through glass to get inside you. I’d piss off Sensei. I’d wait years and do it all sweet and vanilla, so don’t worry about a thing, sweetheart. I’ll fuck the thoughts right out of your head.”

Not a bad start. Katsuki can’t pull together a response. His lips are slow and sluggish when Shinsou leans down to kiss him. The palm on his cock curls, shifts, strokes and Katsuki’s knees go weak. 

Shinsou gives him a delighted smile. “So now that you know how extremely serious I am about getting inside you, what was that about messing you up? Wanna be sure I get that right.”

Katsuki shivers. Shinsou doesn’t sound extremely serious, but nobody’s hands have felt quite this good, this warm, this right on his skin. What the fuck does he know? “Just do what you want,” he rasps.

“What I want,” Shinsou says, “is to make you cum so hard you cry, and come to me on your knees, begging for more. But if you’re not going to tell me, I’ll put in the work.”

His hand shifts up and tightens under Katsuki’s jaw. Shinsou seems taller like this, leaning over him. If he wanted to, Katsuki could probably… get away. But.

“You’re not going to blow me up, are you?” 

Katsuki looks away from his studying gaze. “Not. Yet”

“So this is good?”

Katsuki nods.

Shinsou’s thumb rubs a hard circle in the hollow under his ear. “You wanna go all sparkly?”

Katsuki’s pulse thuds back against the pressure. When he swallows, he feels the bones of Shinsou’s hand. He’s never done this. Never let some random hold his neck. It seems stupid, and then again, he does want to be sparkly. He wants to be someone else. Someone who doesn’t think so hard. 

“Yeah.”

His next breath catches as the pressure increases. It’s not hard to breathe, actually, it’s just that breathing seems less important when Shinsou rubs up his cock and his head is champagne bubbles. Then Shinsou leans in and brushes their lips together so lightly it tickles like sparks. His hand eases down to Katsuki’s collarbone, still pressing against him, but the world floods back in. Fills him like air and Katsuki moans, leaning forward for one last brush against Shinsou’s mouth. 

He gets it, and then he’s pinned hard against the wall, squirming against the pressure of Shinsou’s hand because it feels so good against his heartbeat. It echoes through his body, five beats, before the pressure disappears.

Shinsou’s arms wrap around him and Katsuki floats like a balloon as Shinsou kisses him back to himself.

“So you’re a sub,” Shinsou says, with only the vaguest sprinkling of surprise.

Katsuki shrugs. Maybe he is.

“Have you been reading my diary?”

“What?”

“Never you mind. I gotcha.” 

Suddenly Shinsou loops a leg around Katsuki’s thigh and knocks him in the back of the knee. Katsuki pitches forward and when the world is steady again, he’s kneeling on the floor with Shinsou’s hand threaded into his hair, pressing his face into Shinsou’s crotch. His cock is hard and Katsuki moans as Shinsou rubs his face into it.

That rough momentum carries Katsuki forward like a wave, well past his inhibitions. He grabs onto Shinsou’s thighs and mouths at the bulge in his pants, tasting the dry rasp of cotton but focused more on mapping the shape of him. Thick.

“Fuck, baby. Yeah.” Shinsou’s still holding Katsuki’s head—one hand on his cheek, the other in his hair—and he rubs his crotch against Katsuki’s tongue, getting spit all over the front of his pants. Katsuki mouths over him like somehow he’s gonna work that cock through the fabric. “God, you want it, huh? Wanna taste my cock?”

Katsuki groans an answer and Shinsou starts stumbling backwards, one hand still on the back of Katsuki’s head to keep his face pressed close. They stop when Shinsou’s calves hit the couch and there’s an awkward scramble while Shinsou tries to work his pants down, still holding Katsuki’s face to his crotch. Katsuki isn’t helping a bit, either. He’s too embarrassed to back off and show his face, so he continues to soak Shinsou’s pants with his spit. 

But then the fabric shifts, sliding against his lips. Katsuki startles back as it jerks past his chin and then Shinsou’s bare dick is right in front of him, but moving away. Katsuki dives after it, throwing himself over Shinsou’s knees to get his lips on it as Shinsou falls back onto the couch.

“Oh, fuck,” Shinsou gasps as Katsuki finally gets the head into his mouth. More of it, really. He wants everything, straining forward and whining until it tickles his gag reflex. “Baby,” Shinsou, murmurs. It sounds like a protest, but Katsuki can do better. He lunges down again and feels Shinsou’s dick kick up in his throat before Shinsou calls, “Baby, stop,” and pulls Katsuki’s head back.

His face must be so red. Katsuki doesn’t want to, but Shinsou holds him there long enough he has to look up. Shinsou’s eyes are oddly soft. He strokes Katsuki’s hair and some of his anxiety melts away under that gentleness.

“This is just the warmup. Don’t go so fast. Let me enjoy it.”

Katsuki’s eyes dip down from Shinsou’s face to the head of his cock, bobbing just inches away. He opens his mouth, letting his tongue ease over his lower lip. Shinsou gives a low, wanting hum and his fingers curl around the base of Katsuki’s skull.

“Slowly,” he says, as he guides Katsuki’s mouth closer. 

Katsuki watches Shinsou watch him, as Katsuki’s lips close around the tip of his cock. It’s more intense like this. Shinsou’s eyes are softer than Katsuki ever noticed. Bedroom eyes. Heavy. Hazy. Straight dark eyelashes sweeping down as he watches Katsuki suck him. His cock is leaking, and the taste is… good. Tastes like a gold star. Katsuki doesn’t remember liking it this much, but it’s been a second since he’s done this.

“I’ve peaked too young,” Shinsou says, stroking a thumb over Katsuki’s cheek. “This is the best day of my life.”

Katsuki tries to roll his eyes, but they droop closed as Shinsou rolls his hips and his cock eases further into Katsuki’s mouth. Shinsou’s hand is wrapped around the back of Katsuki’s neck so there’s nowhere to go, and nothing to do but breathe deep and take it, however Shinsou wants. Something in Katsuki’s brain jitters between reassured and wary, like the flicker of an old light bulb. 

He tries to settle. This is safe. It helps that Shinsou squeezes him. Keeps talking. 

“I’m not going to believe this when I wake up tomorrow,” Shinsou murmurs. He moves Katsuki off his cock and smirks when he tries to lean forward and get his mouth on it. “Cock hungry is a good look for you.”

Katsuki gets the eye roll then. “Come on. You want the blowjob or not?”

“Eh,” Shinsou teases. He pulls Katsuki’s mouth closer again and Katsuki obligingly tongues precum off the tip. “What I want is to fuck you so hard I leave bruises inside you.” Katsuki’s lips tremble against his dick. “But I’ll let you suck on me a bit, as a treat. How’s that sound?”

Katsuki’s head is a whirlpool. He can’t think. He wants it so much his cock aches. But… actually having it? Letting Shinsou have him? Hurt him?

“Bakugou?” Shinsou says carefully. “How are you doing?” His grip is more lax around Katsuki’s head. Not a hold anymore. More of a caress. 

This could be so good if Katsuki could just let go. He eases off the tip, licks his lips, and says, “Will you use your quirk on me?”

Shinsou’s eyes widen and his pupils narrow. It’s bedroom to bar fight. “My quirk?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki rasps, awkward already. Shinsou used to use it on him all the time, like a party trick, and now he’s being weird about it? “Your fucking quirk.”

Shinsou leans back. It’s only a few inches, but it feels like miles when Katsuki’s on his knees.

“Not the whole time,” Katsuki says. “Just, like, for a—”

“Now?”

“Yeah, now,” Katsuki says irritably. “Just for a minute.”

“Just for a minute,” Shinsou echoes, voice quiet. He’s not touching Katsuki at all anymore. “Why?”

The why is hard. It’s too long, too personal, so Katsuki goes for the shorthand. “Cuz I asked you to and I’m blowing you?”

Shinsou’s brow furrows. “I don’t know what you’re trying to get at, but I don’t have to brainwash people into blowing me.”

Well, this isn’t going great. “Fine. Whatever.” Katsuki sits back on his heels and this is actually worse. The weirdest dick-out standoff he can imagine.

Shinsou is still frowning. “Why do you want that?”

“Because it fucking feels good, and I’m nervous, you ass.”

Shinsou’s mouth drops open. “You’re nervous, so you want me to brainwash you?”

“Didn’t I just say that?” Definitely didn’t mean to, but yeah, he’s fucking nervous. It’s not like he knows how to do this.

“You think it feels good?”

Heat prickles on Katsuki’s cheeks like a sunburn. “You know what, never mind. Just forget the whole damn—”

The world fogs like he’s wrapped in clouds. His body is vague. Floating. He sees Shinsou as if through frosted glass, his eyes inky indigo. Shinsou watches him so carefully it would be comforting if Katsuki had emotions like that—but his thoughts are slow and his reactions slower yet, so he just drifts like he’s been soaked in violet vodka.

Then the fog clears and time ticks back to normal speed. Shinsou’s cupping his cheek, sitting dick-out on the couch. A minute ago, Katsuki was anxious and pissed off, but he doesn’t have to pick those back up. Not immediately, anyway. Not unless they’re needed.

“Well?” Shinsou asks curiously. Guarded.

“Thanks.” 

Shinsou raises his eyebrows. “That’s what you wanted? Just that?”

Katsuki shrugs. “Like I said, it feels good.”

Shinsou is still looking at him, but his gaze is very distant. Then it focuses again, and he swallows.

“Do you still feel nervous?”

“I dunno, are you gonna quiz me or are you gonna put your cock in my mouth?”

Shinsou laughs. “You have to get me hard again.”

Katsuki looks down at a half-soft cock. “Your fault. Too much talking.”

“I talk when I’m nervous,” Shinsou says. Katsuki pauses because Shinsou hasn’t acted nervous for a second. Even now, he’s fondling his cock right in front of Katsuki’s face, not a care in the world. “So you really like that?”

“You need me to say it again?”

“Yeah,” Shinsou says, smile pulling wide. “Please.” 

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “I like your quirk. It—”

“Wait!” Shinsou shifts around, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out his phone. “I should record this so you don’t accuse me of anything nefarious later.”

Katsuki thrusts out a hand to cover the camera. “Are you fucking kidding? You wanna take video of me with your bare dick?”

“Fuck yes, I do,” Shinsou says. “C’mon, it’s my dick that’s out. You look as pretty as ever. Better, really. Please?” he wheedles and then changes tone to something silky. “I’ll do it again. Make you feel so good, baby.” He strokes Katsuki’s cheek and down over his lips. Somehow Shinsou slips right past idiot to erotic. “All empty-headed and sweet. That’s what you want, huh? For me to take over for a bit?”

He pushes the tip of his thumb between Katsuki’s lips, and it’s… fuck, it’s sexy. Makes him feel sexy. Almost unwillingly, Katsuki sucks on it and the whole room shades darker. Indigo everywhere.

“You won’t show anyone?” he asks, lips brushing against the pad of Shinsou’s thumb. He sounds childish. This is so stupid, why is he even considering it?

“Never.” Shinsou’s thumb eases back and forth over Katsuki’s bottom teeth, rubbing against the tip of his tongue. “Precious, perfect thing like you? Gotta keep you safe.”

Katsuki’s lip trembles at the idea of safety. He closes his eyes and half-shrugs one shoulder, almost willing to just give in. To everything. 

“That’s right,” Shinsou rasps. Slowly, he pushes his thumb in further, hooks it over Katsuki’s lower teeth, and draws him forward. Eyes still closed, Katsuki floats along until Shinsou deposits his mouth back on the head of his cock, soft and warm. “This is personal spank bank material. Just the most beautiful boy in the world with the sweetest, softest mouth and an undeserving cock. You want it again, yeah? My quirk?”

Katsuki bobs his head, letting his parted lips re-wet the tip of Shinsou’s dick.

“Say it, baby.”

Shifting to the side, Katsuki looks up at Shinsou’s phone with Shinsou’s cock against his cheek. He’s gonna do this once. “Use your quirk on me.” 

The cock twitches against him, and Shinsou hums like a purr. When the quirk comes again, it’s slow. Slow. He hasn’t taken Katsuki like this before, flowing into his mind like a spilled drink running across a table. It teases the edge of his awareness, it looms closer, and then everything shifts, like gravity just moved by ten degrees.

The world halts, and Katsuki’s thoughts, too, are frozen in that delicious anticipation—paused mid-vibration, still wanting, wanting, wanting even though Shinsou’s already caught him.

Then it fades away, like fabric sliding off of him, and Katsuki sways. That was deeper than normal.

“Again?” Shinsou asks. Then he laughs and catches Katsuki by the hair as his head lolls. “Oh shit. I never hit record. Ask me again Bakugou, just like that.”

Katsuki blinks the violet haze from his eyes and glares. “Seriously? Can we just fucking—”

Shinsou does it. Faster this time. The floor drops and Katsuki falls into… clouds? Jelly? It doesn’t matter. He floats for a few heartbeats and then the world returns.

The first thing he sees is Shinsou’s hard cock, and he lunges for it, mouth open and wet with drool. Enough fucking around.

“Ah shit—you really—like that, huh,” Shinsou breathes. “You’re perfect. Who knew that angels suck cock?”

Who knew that Shinsou said such stupid shit? Katsuki flips him off, but keeps going until Shinsou hauls him back by a handful of hair.

“Okay, babygirl, that’s plenty. I’m gonna blow before I even get to appreciate this top-five body.” Somehow Shinsou keeps toeing the line between sexy and idiotic and Katsuki can’t figure out how to react. He closes his mouth at least, but a little late.

“C’mon,” Shinsou says, grabbing Katsuki under the arm and hauling him up. “Angels get fucked on beds, not couches.”

Katsuki stumbles along into his room, still tripping over babygirl, when Shinsou grabs the hem of Katsuki’s shirt and drags it up over his head. But not off, though. No, he’s too much of an ass for that. He leaves Katsuki blind, arms up over his head and tangled in the black button-down he grudgingly put on for Jirou’s birthday. It’s buttoned too high to slide past his chin so Katsuki curses and squirms, stumbling forward when Shinsou grabs him by the open fly of his jeans and jerks him close.

Shinsou works his jeans down to his ankles and then waits as Katsuki fumbles open the top button from the inside of his shirt. He rips the shirt off and gets his vision back.

Shinsou’s sitting on the end of his bed, now shirtless and leering as Katsuki scowls and throws his shirt toward the hamper. Since high school, Shinsou’s hair has darkened from lavender to indigo, but it’s practically black in the dim bedroom. It makes his eyes stand out even more, pupils glinting white like there’s some secret light hitting them. 

He reaches out, and for the first time, Katsuki can see all of his tattoos. They span from wrist to elbow on both arms, alternating black bands with some sort of flower. The petals are lighter than his skin. Magnolias maybe. Oh. No, they’re poppies. Of course.

Reluctantly, Katsuki lets Shinsou draw him closer. 

“Why do you have such a little waist? For men to grab?”

“God, are you gonna talk shit all night?” Katsuki tries to shove Shinsou back onto the bed. He’s not expecting resistance, at least not anything effective, but Shinsou seizes him by the wrist. 

“Oh, you wanna fight, do you? Pretty boy wants to be roughed up?”

“Like you could?” Katsuki gasps as he’s jerked onto the bed. The scuffle that ensues is pathetic. Katsuki’s ankles are still tangled in his jeans and he manages only to scratch Shinsou’s chest like an animal before he’s facedown on the bed with Shinsou’s elbow pressing into the center of his back. 

“Apparently I can do whatever I want since you’re a teensy subby baby,”

“Fuck off,” Katsuki growls. He shouldn’t… let it go just like this. He feels spinny and out of control. His limbs want to move in too many directions. Curl up to protect himself. Arch his back. Flip Shinsou onto the floor. Then there’s a crack and a lightning flash of pain that makes every muscle go still in surprise.

Shinsou just smacked his ass so hard a constellation of stars flicker across his vision.

“Tell me to stop,” Shinsou says, while Katsuki groans, forehead pressing into the bed. 

Katsuki swallows, says nothing, and the next crack arrives, saving him from the burden of response. It stings like a baseball bat.

“Tell me to stop.”

Katsuki doesn’t. The pain settles heavy and soothing in his body. The blanket on his bed is cool against his cheek. His chest. It’s cool and Shinsou’s hand between his shoulder blades is hot.

“Tell me to stop,” Shinsou says after the next smack. There’s a smile in his voice. He knows.

Katsuki doesn’t.

But he doesn’t get more. Instead, Shinsou yanks down his briefs and shoves his thighs wide apart. The stretch is almost painful—enough to make Katsuki squirm his hips up to ease the discomfort, but the second his ass rises an inch, Shinsou shoves a hand under him, grabs his junk, and pulls it down between his legs.

“Sweet little cock,” Shinsou says, saccharine and petting down the length of it. “And these balls.”

Katsuki gasps as Shinsou captures them in his hand, locking both together in the circle of his index finger and thumb. It’s a rough tug, pulling them tight and down, making Katsuki squirm deeper into that uncomfortable stretch. His thighs shake as Shinsou fondles the tight package of his balls with his free hand.

Then a smack. Actually, it’s not harder than a tap, but Katsuki jolts and gasps. He pants into the stretch to ease the strain on his sac as Shinsou strokes him again. 

It’s a low whisper when Shinsou says it. “Tell me to stop.” He pets over Katsuki’s tingling balls and down his cock again. 

Katsuki shakes his head.

“No, why would you when you’re all hard and drippy? God, you’re pretty like this.” 

He gives Katsuki’s balls another tap and Katsuki takes it limp and lets the pain flow through him and wash away this week’s worries. 

“All messed up.” Shinsou wipes a finger over the tip of Katsuki’s cock. It slips over the wet head. The finger taps Katsuki’s mouth, and he parts his lips to suck the precum off the tip.

The grip around his balls eases and Shinsou rolls them, massaging as Katsuki sighs and sinks into the bedding. 

“Let me get a look at your pussy.”

That shouldn’t be hot, but the flash of arousal is dizzying. Katsuki’s reeling at the word when Shinsou puts both hands on his ass and spreads him. 

“I knew it’d be pretty. How can every bit of you be so fucking pretty?”

Katsuki’s shuddering. Squirming. Squeezing. Trying to stay still because Shinsou’s only gripping him harder, thumbs pushing wider as he cringes.

Then he spits. A gob of something wet and warm lands exactly on Katsuki’s sensitive, exposed rim and Katsuki groans like he’s dying.

“That’s—fucking gross,” he mumbles, but Shinsou slips the tip of a finger inside him and Katsuki arches like a dog.

“On the list of terrible things I wanna do to you, this is nothing.”

His finger circles and tugs on Katsuki’s rim—an odd stretch, and then Shinsou spits again and it drips down inside. 

“Jesus Christ.” Katsuki smacks the bed, roughly in the direction of his nightstand. “There’s lube in—”

Shinsou shoves his finger in and Katsuki chokes on his own spit. It doesn’t hurt, it’s just. Fast.

Maybe it hurts a little.

“Aw, baby.” Shinsou’s hand strokes over his head, petting like he’s an animal. With his finger still in Katsuki’s ass, he tugs open the nightstand drawer. “Take a breath. You don’t gotta stay this tight for me.”

Katsuki hides his face while Shinsou rifles around.

“Condoms in here, too?”

Shit. Condoms. Katsuki hasn’t ever bought any. “I’m… out.” 

Shinsou tuts and eases his finger out. Katsuki looks over his shoulder as Shinsou leans down to fish his jeans off the floor. “I got one.”

Right. He probably does stuff like this all the time. 

“But since this isn’t casual and all,” Shinsou gives him a sideways look, wallet in hand, “maybe you’ll let me feel how soft and warm you are inside.”

Katsuki bites his lip. “Are you… good?”

“Oh yeah. Got tested for that last pre-mission physical. I don’t usually do bareback, but you’re different. You good?”

Katsuki hasn’t had sex since high school. “I’m—yeah I’m good.”

“Well, fuck.” Shinsou grins and throws his wallet on the nightstand. A condom and a few credit cards scatter out. Something shiny slips out and falls between the nightstand and the bed, but before Katsuki can mention it, Shinsou gets a hand on the back of his neck and pushes him face-down into the sheets. 

A cap pops and cool lube drizzles down between his cheeks. Shinsou begins working it inside with slow strokes and Katsuki tries to breathe. It’s been years since he did this, and it wasn’t ever good before, but… fuck. It can be good, right? Even for him? 

He takes another breath, deep like he practices alone.

“Good boy,” Shinsou purrs. His finger is gentler now. Slippery and twisting. It’s easy until there’s two. “I don’t wanna tear you up, so you gotta relax this little pussy.”

He gives Katsuki a little smack on his hole and Katsuki fights himself to give in. To open. Three fingers begin working little circles inside his rim.

The strain in his hips is gone. Katsuki’s ass-up and exposed for Shinsou and he’s teetering right on the edge between freakout and euphoria.

“The things I want to do to this hole.”

Katsuki clings to the dirty fucking words. The darkness behind his eyelids. Shinsou’s breath and the hand on his hip and the way the bed rocks. He wants to fall. He wants to forget that Shinsou is currently looking at his asshole. It’s hot, but. God. This is going on forever. Kirishima never spent so much time fingering him. 

That little bubble of anxiety is going to pop. Katsuki’s going to freak out and ruin this. “C’mon,” he says. “That’s enough.”

“You think so?” Shinsou pumps his fingers a few more times and Katsuki tries every trick he knows to take it lax. “Okay then. Get on your back. I need to watch you take my dick.”

Gripping the blanket so his hands don’t tremble, Katsuki turns onto his back. Looks up at Shinsou and—fuck—suddenly it’s real. Shinsou’s stripping off the rest of his clothes at the foot of the bed and he’s… big. Not just tall and lanky anymore but filled out with lean muscle. He moves so certainly, stroking his cock. He moves like he could hurt Katsuki.

Katsuki asked him to, and Shinsou looks ready as he kneels on the bed. They’ve already taken it this far.

One at a time, Katsuki eases his legs around Shinsou’s hips. His knees are shaking. 

Shinsou frowns at him. “Oh,” he says. 

“What?” Katsuki squirms. Shinsou is peering down at him like there’s something on his face. 

“Oh, shit. You’re sweet aren’t you?” Shinsou sits back on his heels. “You’re not a brat at all. Aren’t you tricky?”

“What?”

Shinsou puts a hand on Katsuki’s thigh and it’s heavy enough to still the tremor. Warm.

“Fuck, change of plans. Lemme take care of you.” 

“Okay.” Katsuki’s voice creaks and Shinsou’s posture softens as he smiles. 

“Baby.” Shinsou crawls over him. Nudges his face up with his nose. Kisses him. Katsuki has never felt smaller. “Relax. You’re gonna feel so good.”

Katsuki would say something, but he’s so out of his depth it feels like he’s drowning. 

“God, you’re so sweet.” Shinsou’s hands slide into Katsuki’s hair as he kisses down his jaw. “C’mere. Lay back. Lemme see this pretty cock,” A heavy hand on Katsuki’s chest helps him fall back and Shinsou nuzzles his way down to the crease of Katsuki’s hip. He slips down between Katsuki’s thighs, laying wet kisses on his balls and then the base of his cock. Shinsou weighs it in his hand, thumbs at the tip and watches it bob. “Gorgeous. Will it cum for me?”

“I—Y-yeah.” For whatever reason, Katsuki suddenly thinks it will.

“Good. I’ve been dreaming of you cumming on my cock since I was sixteen.” 

It seems like a line, but Shinsou delivers it so straight, Katsuki believes it. Downs it like a shot and lets it settle warm in his belly. 

Shinsou’s lips tease up his cock, then onto his abs, then back up the center of his chest. 

“Tight body, sweet mouth. Perfect fucking ass. You're better than I could even imagine.” 

Katsuki closes his eyes as Shinsou’s weight settles on top of him. Curls around him. Blankets him. Lips brush against his and Katsuki tries to kiss back, but he can’t close his mouth because at that same moment, Shinsou fits them together, nudging the head of his cock in, right where Katsuki’s slick and stretched. 

Katsuki gasps.

It doesn’t hurt, but it’s big and they’ve barely started. What if—

Shinsou rolls Katsuki’s lower lip between his teeth and groans. “Holy shit, you sound like a virgin and I didn’t even know I liked that but, fuck. Let me get inside you before I nut. Deep breath.”

The chatter is just distracting enough that Katsuki does it. Breathes, when told, and the next sweep of Shinsou’s hips drives his cock all the way in.

It’s so slick. Everything’s slick and smooth and there’s a moment of motion and then Katsuki is full, full, full because Shinsou’s inside him. Not shoving in, inch by inch. Not working for it. Just in. Completely.

It’s—it’s never been that easy. Nothing’s ever fit like that. Not even a toy when Katsuki’s all alone and clean and relaxed with nobody waiting on him. 

Shinsou’s eyes are closed and Katsuki stares up at him for a moment before it all hits and he moans too loudly, straight into Shinsou’s mouth. 

“Me too,” Shinsou murmurs, rocking his hips side to side like he’s feeling it more. He shifts back a bit, then thrusts in and blows out Katsuki’s mind like a candle.

He’s floating, but it’s not Shinsou’s quirk, it’s his dick. Just his dick, working in and out so smoothly Katsuki’s never felt anything like it and he’s lost, so limp his head rocks on the bed with each thrust. 

“Oh my god,” Katsuki mumbles. “You feel good in me.”

“Ugh. Stop talking or I’m gonna cum too fast.”

Katsuki laughs. He feels a little giddy. A little spinny. He tightens around Shinsou and laughs again when he grimaces. “Go ahead, loser.”

“Oh, that’s it. I’m about to show you serious.” Suddenly Shinsou’s moving back, he gets both hands on Katsuki’s hips and pulls him along. They’re still joined together, only now Shinsou’s kneeling and Katsuki’s arching up off the bed. The next thrust makes him curl up like a ribbon. 

“Oh fuck.”

It hurts. It feels good. He nearly twists out of Shinsou’s hands but Shinsou grins and holds tighter. “Mmm yeah, that’s the spot.” 

Katsuki’s gonna scream if Shinsou does that again, but he doesn’t. The next thrust isn’t so deep. It presses up hard and slow inside of him and goddamn. That is the spot, and it’s a lot more intense when someone else is hitting it. 

Katsuki can’t look away. It’s mesmerizing. Shinsou’s cock, driving in with long strokes. All that just going into him. Shinsou’s arms, black ink tracing over muscles tight with the effort of holding Katsuki up. Shinsou’s thumbs wrapped over Katsuki’s hips. 

He stares. Just watches himself get fucked, until…

“Look at you,” Shinsou murmurs. “You like to see it?”

Katsuki glances up into Shinsou’s hot eyes, blushes, and turns to the side.

“I like it too. I could watch you get fucked for hours. All these faces you make.” 

“Shut up.” Katsuki throws an arm over his eyes.

“Nah.” Shinsou leans forward, grabs Katsuki’s hand, and licks it, tongue streaking wet and flat from heel to the tip of his middle finger. Then he deposits it on Katsuki’s cock. “Work this for me.”

Katsuki grips on instinct, twisting with a groan when Shinsou pushes in again. Stroking down in time as Shinsou pulls back. Repeat.

“That's it. You’re perfect. You’re so fucking sexy, but like, angelic? Like if Raphael painted porn.”

Katsuki can’t track the words. They feel good though. They warm him just as much as the hand pressing up his body and settling on his collarbone. Plenty of people have called him sexy before. Fans and reporters. Even classmates. This is the first time it lays comfortably on his skin.

“Lemme show you how good you look.” Shinsou leans over him.

“Huh?”

Suddenly there’s a phone in Shinsou’s hand and Katsuki can only blink at it because the pressure on his chest is making everything hazy. 

Katsuki closes his eyes. 

“There we go. How’s that feel?”

There’s barely enough breath in Katsuki’s lungs to answer, but a word sighs out between his lips.

“Good.”

“Mmm.” Shinsou grinds upwards and pleasure crackles up through him like sparks from a fire. "You close?"

Fuck. Maybe. It’s good brushing up on almost too good. Katsuki wants to cum. He wants to cum. He wants this to work, to be good, to feel good. 

“You need more?” 

Shinsou’s hand grows heavier for a few thrusts and then suddenly disappears. Katsuki gasps and his next breath fills him until his body tingles.

“Oh fuck.” Katsuki groans as all the tension twists up inside him. 

“What do you need, angel? Harder? Rougher?” Shinsou’s eyes dip down to watch where he’s fucking Katsuki. “Baby needs his hole to hurt?”

It hits like a whip crack, so fast Katsuki’s still gasping into Shinsou’s face when the first spurt hits his ribs.

“Fuck,” Shinsou moans. The phone lands up by the pillow and he plants both hands on either side of Katsuki’s head. “Good boy, good boy.” His hips speed up, each thrust punctuating Katsuki’s orgasm until he’s curling with pleasure, twisting away, twisting in, holding his own, messy dick in a tight grip because everything is too much. 

But quickly the rhythm falters, the stroke gets wetter, and Shinsou’s head drops down to rest on the curve of Katsuki’s shoulder as he shudders through the last few thrusts. Katsuki rides them like waves, floating in a pool of pleasure and relief. He did it and it was good. 

Shinsou eases down with a groan, body limp and heavy, and then the bedroom is quiet. Quieter still as their breathing slows, chests rising and falling against each other.

Katsuki hasn’t made it all the way to this part of sex before, not like this anyway. The weight feels nice, but Shinsou peels himself away, exposing the sweat and cum smeared on Katsuki’s body to cool air. He shivers as Shinsou’s soft cock slips out of him, draws his knees together, and wrinkles his nose at the odd feeling of cum, left wet and warm in his ass. 

Shinsou flops on his back next to Katsuki with a big sigh. Katsuki sits up and grabs a tissue to wipe off some of the mess. When he glances over, Shinsou is lying still with his eyes closed, smiling. Sweat has turned the waves of his undercut into haphazard curls and the light from the window outlines his straight nose, his jawline, and the muscles on his chest. They’re defined, but with softer curves than Katsuki’s.

He’s handsome and Katsuki fumbles for something to say.

“That was good.” Ugh. He should have just kept his idiot mouth shut.

“For you maybe.” Shinsou cracks an eye at him. “For me, it was life-changing.” He grabs Katsuki by the wrist and tugs him closer. 

Thankful for the excuse, Katsuki sidles back up his warmth, laying his cheek down on the comfortable spot between Shinsou’s pec and his shoulder. Shinsou’s arm wraps up lazily, his fingertips drag down Katsuki’s ribs and curl around his hips. The other arm is on Shinsou’s chest and Katsuki runs his hand over the black-inked poppies on Shinsou’s forearm. He’s wanted to do that.

“God, you even cuddle. I’m going to be so sad tomorrow when I wake up at home with cum in my underwear.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Katsuki says.

“I know. Can I kiss you?”

What a weird fucking question when they’re in bed together. “Yeah.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, Shinsou. Can you just be normal?”

Shinsou rolls him and lands a kiss that’s more of a nuzzle. Then three more, so soft Katsuki chases them up. “Mmm. Probably not. I like you too much.”

Katsuki turns away to hide his smile, and luckily Shinsou dives face-first into his neck. He’s sprawled over Katsuki’s left side, worming his arms around to get comfortable. 

“‘M gonna pass out, okay?”

“Oh, I know.”

Shinsou slurs something into Katsuki’s skin. It might have been, you can pet my hair, so he does, weaving his fingers through sweat-damp waves in the dark. With every stroke, Shinsou’s breath deepens, fanning over Katsuki’s neck. 

This isn’t what Katsuki imagined.

It’s not the sappy little daydream he carried around in high school. It’s not freckles and green curls and god knows Deku wouldn’t have… done it like that. But that’s okay. It’s probably better this way. 

Not all good things look alike.

This could be a good thing.