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Katsuki’s irritated.
He’s been doing box breathing for the past hour and a half, trying to keep from snapping while watching Izuku pound fruity liquor like it owes him money.
It’s not like Izuku is trying to be annoying, he never is, but Katsuki’s feeling extra irritable tonight.
It’s unfortunate because Izuku’s in a gratingly good mood.
He came home from work today, incredibly elated to announce that his class of history students passed their finals with flying colors.
Which is apparently a miracle, considering all the trouble they had given him the entirety of the spring semester.
There's been nothing but chaos in their apartment for the last month. Izuku was damn near ripping his hair out while grading the pre-finals, begging Katsuki to put him out of his misery.
“I mean, they might have cheated for all I care, but I’m just happy they passed. Especially Aiko—god, Kacchan, you should see his handwriting. I don’t even know how he got into UA,” Izuku pauses to take a sip of his drink before continuing. “It’s like he’s never had to write proper Japanese before in his life. And he knew nothing about All Might, I mean… what? Like… how do you know nothing about All Might?”
Izuku rubs his finger around the edge of the class and breathes out wistfully. Prominent veins trace the top of his hands, stretched taut underneath his skin.
Whore, Katsuki thinks. Damn succubus.
But instead of saying that, he mumbles, “That so?”
Izuku’s so out of it he doesn’t even notice Katsuki’s disinterest, just looks at him through glassy eyes, nodding.
“Yeah, just so glad it’s over. Now I can get caught up on my hero work,” Izuku slurs. “Spend more time with you.”
Katsuki nods, pressing his lips into a tight line. Biting his tongue has become a habit in this last stretch of the semester.
Izuku has mentioned this Aiko kid about five times in the last hour, probably a hundred times in the last week—he’s damn sick of hearing about it.
It’s been three weeks of this shit.
Late-night study guides, hours of grading, missing papers and half-assed freakouts.
Twenty-seven days of Katsuki coming home from patrol to an over-worked, half-conscious, unshowered Izuku who has no time to touch him.
Just enough time for a few quick make-out sessions, barely enough to get Katsuki riled up, but not enough to actually go anywhere.
Katsuki knows he can touch himself—and he has —but it’s nothing compared to what Izuku can do to him. There’s an itch on his back that he can’t seem to reach when he’s not around.
It’s infuriating, especially in moments like this when Izuku’s sitting across from him in the booth with his tie half-loosened around his neck, hair disheveled, looking like a damn piece of meat.
“It’s just so frustrating ‘cus some of these kids are so smart, with so much potential…But they just don’t have th—“
Katsuki can’t hold his tongue any longer.
“Can we go home yet?” he interrupts. “Or are you just gonna keep yapping about those damn kids?”
Izuku’s face drops, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.“Home? But Kacchan, we just got here.”
“Just? We’ve been here for three hours, Deku,” Katsuki says, clicking his phone to show him the time. “It’s damn near 1 AM. I had patrol earlier, and I’m tired. You’re not the only one who fuckin’ works. You know that, right?”
Katsuki knows he’s being a bitch—he knows and he can’t stop it. But Izuku still isn’t getting it.
His gaze drops to his hands. “Oh, uh. We can—I didn’t realize how late it was. Sorry.”
“Course you didn’t,” Katsuki huffs. He holds himself back from saying, you don’t seem to notice a lot of stuff—including me. “C’mon.”
He stands up, slapping some yen on the table, maybe a bit harder than necessary. Then Izuku stands up too, and Katsuki loops an arm around his waist without a second thought.
They wordlessly walk out of the bar, into the warm night air. It’s been raining the entire week, thanks to April showers— but the sky is finally clearing up. The moon’s shining brightly, illuminating the parking lot.
“Mmm, Kacchan,” Izuku mumbles, nuzzling into Katsuki’s shoulder. “It feels so nice out. Moon’s pretty, too.”
Katsuki sighs. “Sure is.”
“Kacchan.”
They’re at his car finally, and Katsuki opens the passenger side door for him. “What?”
It comes out harsher than he meant it to. Or maybe he did mean it to be harsh— he doesn’t care enough to linger on it.
Izuku frowns, plopping in the passenger’s seat. He’s looking up at him with those sad, dumb eyes. “Why are you mad at me?”
He slams the car door in his face. When he climbs in the driver’s seat, he finally answers. “Because.”
“Because why? Did I say something? If this is about me forgetting to do the dishes last night—Crap, I was going to do them today but I just got so—“
Katsuki snaps. “Izuku. Shut up. We’ll be home soon, so just cool your drunk little jets, alright? Fuckin’ chill out, lay the seat back or somethin’.”
Izuku’s clearly intoxicated because he doesn’t fight back. He just sighs and wriggles back into the seat.
“Okay. Sorry.”
The drive home is quiet, with Izuku piningly looking out the windows and huffing like a guilty dog. Katsuki keeps his mouth shut, because he knows if he tries to say anything—he’ll bite for real.
And then they’re halfway up the apartment steps when Izuku starts humming. It’s vaguely familiar. Katsuki thinks it might be an old All Might theme song or something, but regardless it grates on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard.
Normally something like that would fill him with endearment, make him punch Izuku’s arm before pulling him in for a kiss—but not tonight.
Anything’s ready to send him over the edge.
Because it sounds happy. Izuku sounds so damn relaxed, humming without a care in the world except for making sure to hold onto his boyfriend’s arm. And it makes Katsuki’s skin crawl.
He gets to be happy and loosen up after a long day at work, meanwhile, Katsuki’s been wound up for weeks—body tight like a bowstring.
And Izuku has the audacity to hum and drink like nothing’s wrong, like Katsuki hasn’t been waking up to an empty bed, cock hard and jaw clenched, unable to reach the spot that Izuku does with ease.
Katsuki fiddles with the doorknob, and Izuku sways behind him. He unlocks the apartment door, kicks it open and pushes Izuku in. “Shoes off.”
Izuku stumbles into the entryway and kicks them off sloppily, almost losing balance.
“Thanks for taking us home, Kacchan,” he says, words slurring.“My strong Kacchan.”
Katsuki freezes.
That. That fucking tone.
How can he not realize what the hell he’s doing?
Izuku just got chewed out in the parking lot and he’s still sitting here kissing Katsuki’s ass.
Katsuki huffs, throwing his keys on the counter and kicking his own shoes off, before turning to face Izuku again.
Now, Izuku’s a bit closer, leaning against the wall. His shirt’s untucked, his tie’s hanging loose, collarbone just barely peeking out from behind the fabric.
His cheeks are stained pink from the liquor and Katsuki wants to fucking scream.
“Don’t talk like that,” he murmurs, stepping forward. “Jesus, Izuku. Do you even fuckin’ hear yourself?”
“Like what?” Izuku asks, eyes wide and innocent. His dopey little grin quickly drops when he sees Katsuki glaring at him. “You’re still mad. Please just tell me why.”
“Because,” Katsuki bites, cornering him against the wall. He pokes hard into Izuku’s shoulder. “It’s been three weeks. Three weeks, Izuku.”
“Oh.” Izuku looks down, guilty. “I’m—I’m sorry. I’ve just been so busy, Kacchan, you know this.”
Katsuki chuckles hollowly, his chest aching.
“Yeah. Too busy for me. With the fuckin’ kids and work, I get it.” His voice trails off into something smaller, more vulnerable. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck.”
He moves to walk past Izuku— just leave his drunk ass in the entrance to their apartment to fend for himself—but a warm, strong hand grabs his wrist.
“Baby.”
In that fucking voice.
Katsuki curses himself for a moment, before he turns to face Izuku again. His dark circles are more prominent in the dim light of their apartment, and he’s got that pathetic, pleading look on his face, and all Katsuki wants to do is just sit on it.
But he’s mad at him. He’s so mad.
So he can’t do that. Not that easily.
“Kacchan, please. Let me make it up to you. If you had told me, I would’ve made time for you. But—but that’s not an excuse and I’m sorry.”
Izuku pauses for a moment and yanks Katsuki’s wrist to pull him closer.
“I really am,” Izuku mumbles. “Sorry.”
“Whatever,” he says through gritted teeth. It’s not like Izuku would even be able to fuck him properly tonight. He’s too damn drunk and tired. “You should be. Goodnight.”
Katsuki turns to walk away again, but Izuku grabs him by the face. Hands squeezing his cheeks.
It’s rough, and it hurts.
“Hey,” Izuku snaps. “Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you.”
Katsuki feels himself sink. He’s using that same tone from earlier and it makes him shiver. But he can’t fold that easily.
“Or what?” Katsuki barks. His voice comes out weak. “What’s Sensei gonna do to me?”
Izuku’s grip loosens, just enough. He sighs.
“Oh, so that’s what this is,” he huffs. “You want me to teach you a lesson?”
Katsuki looks away, using every bit of willpower to avoid those damn eyes. He crosses his arms, rolls his eyes—and yet against everything in his brain, his body knows what he wants, and he nods.
Izuku’s thumb slides down to the side of Katsuki’s mouth, where he’s pouting.
“Say ah.” His thumb breaks the seal of Katsuki’s lips. “Open.”
Katsuki scowls for a moment. If he bit Izuku’s thumb off right now, that’d get him nowhere closer to getting fucked. Reluctantly, he opens, lets his jaw hang slack.
“Good boy,” Izuku coos. Katsuki stops staring at the wall to look at him. “There’s my sweet Kacchan.”
Izuku’s finger is teasing his bottom lip, spit pooling against it. His own mouth opens to match Katsuki’s, like he’s showing him how he wants him. Katsuki fights to keep his eyes from fluttering shut.
Until Izuku presses in a bit further, right past his bottom teeth. Katsuki can feel his ears burning, his groin aching. A small noise erupts from his throat.
Even this is riling him up.
Normally he’d have his lips wrapped around Izuku’s fingers, teasing him with his tongue. But he doesn’t this time. He just looks up at Izuku with the last bit of dignity he has in his body, daring him to push it further.
They love to play these games, and Katsuki hopes he’s still winning.
But then Izuku smiles down at him—with a lazy, almost condescendingly warm smile. His other hand comes up from his side to cradle the back of Katsuki’s head. And that’s when he breaks.
“Go on,” Izuku murmurs. “Be a good boy. Suck.”
Katsuki can’t help but groan low in his throat, absolutely furious with himself— and he does it anyway.
His lips tighten around Izuku’s thumb, tongue sliding slowly and deliberately around the scarred digit. He hollows his cheeks out with every swipe, his eyes finally fluttering closed.
“Baby,” Izuku breathes, voice soft and shaky. “Look at you.”
Katsuki opens his eyes, half-lidded, to scowl around his finger. Izuku chuckles.
“Don’t pout,” he hums, smiling. “Kacchan just missed me, huh?”
Katsuki pushes his thumb from his mouth with a wet pop. “No,” he lies, his voice hoarse—immediately giving him away.
Izuku frowns, pressing his wet thumb into Katsuki’s bottom lip. “Then what’s with the attitude? Why are you mad?”
“Because you’re a dumbass,” Katsuki growls, lunging forward to kiss him. But Izuku stops him with a firm hand on his chest.
He wants Izuku to quit his drunk yammering and just fuck the attitude out of him already. But Izuku’s not going to let this slide.
“Nuh-uh, no. You don’t get to be mean and then take. You have to ask. ”
Katsuki looks at him like he might actually combust.
He grasps onto Izuku’s wrist, the one that’s holding him back. “Just fuck me, idiot.”
Izuku presses back again, shaking his head—like he probably does to his dumbass students all day at school. He sighs.
“Manners.”
Katsuki trembles for a second, fists clenched against Izuku’s shirt, before he exhales shakily. He whispers it so softly that Izuku almost misses it.
“...Please.”
A shit-eating grin spreads across Izuku’s face. He steps forward, pressing Katsuki back towards their bedroom door. “That’s better.”
Then finally—fucking finally — he kisses him.
It’s hard. It’s hot. It’s filthy. It’s everything Katsuki’s been craving for a month. Izuku’s tongue is sliding across Katsuki’s, their teeth clacking. He can taste every bit of sake that Izuku downed at the bar, and he’s sure his own mouth tastes like desperation.
They’re stumbling into the bedroom, and Katsuki’s groaning into Izuku’s mouth, trying to yank off his belt. But Izuku pushes him down into the mattress instead, thigh pressed right in between his legs.
Katsuki’s so damn sensitive, so fucking pent-up that even the friction of fabric against fabric has him trembling. He’s grasping onto Izuku’s shirt, and that’s when Izuku breaks the kiss to murmur against Katsuki’s ear.
“You’re close already?”
Katsuki doesn’t answer. Mostly because he can’t. If he speaks, his voice will crack, and Izuku will never let him live this down.
A strong fist grabs into his blonde hair, pulls just enough to sting and yank his head back. Katsuki gasps, eyebrows furrowing.
“Kacchan,” he says, teasingly. He presses his knee into Katsuki’s bulge. “I asked you a question.”
He can’t pretend he doesn’t want to anymore, three weeks was enough of playing hard to get. He needs this now or he’ll blow up this entire apartment.
Katsuki bites out, “Fuck, just please—wanna cum.” His hips jerk up into Izuku’s leg, searching desperately for just enough pressure to send him over. “Fucking— bastard.”
It’s not nearly enough.
Izuku pulls his knee back, loosens his grip on Katsuki's hair and kisses the corner of his mouth. Then again on his jaw, then lower, until he’s on his knees and dragging Katsuki closer.
“But…” Izuku pauses. “You’re so cute like this.”
Katsuki groans, flopping against the mattress.
This is what he gets. This is what he deserves when he’s been a dick all night, when all Izuku wanted was to relax and celebrate his hard work.
Izuku drags Katsuki’s sweatpants down, and his cute little cock slaps against his belly. He’s painfully hard, that even the air is enough to make him shiver.
Jaw clenched, he mumbles, “Please.”
His mouth is on him in an instant. Izuku’s too skilled at this, and his hands are mercilessly toying with Katsuki’s balls. Katsuki can’t help but writhe underneath the warmth of Izuku’s tongue, his hands, his everything. He’s so close already, thirty seconds of attention is enough to make him lose it.
He’s bucking into Izuku’s mouth, or at least attempting to—but Izuku’s free hand is pressing his hips back into the mattress.
Even without his quirk, he’s so damn strong it makes him furious.
There’s no rhythm in his movements, just shamelessly wriggling and pleading, “Please— please, make me cum.”
Izuku hums around him, the vibrations making Katsuki’s breath hitch. Then he pulls off, and lets his tongue flick across the head of his cock.
“So greedy, Kacchan,” he purrs, diving back in to lick from shaft to tip. It’s slow and painful. Izuku sinks down fully once again, wrapping a tight hand around his balls and squeezing.
Katsuki jerks into his mouth, eyes twisted shut, feels himself start to seize up—then Izuku pulls away.
“Handling it so well, too.”
The noise that rips from Katsuki’s throat is halfway between a sob and a scream.
“Fuck—fuck you, why would you fucking—!”
Izuku chuckles and shushes him, then presses a kiss to the inside of his trembling thigh.
“What happened to your manners, Kacchan?” Izuku hums. “Being mean gets you nowhere.”
Katsuki deflates with a whine, tiny explosions are itching to escape from behind his palms.
If he wasn’t so turned on with Izuku as his only cure, he’d explode the little green haired fuck into the next room. He’d destroy the mattress, the bedframe, the entire damn city.
But he’s looking at him so sweetly, caressing his thigh so gently, and Katsuki feels himself go pliant in his grasp. He’s gotta give in.
First orgasm is denied.
Cruelly, mercilessly, evilly, even. And Izuku’s fucking giggling about it.
Katsuki barely has any time to curse him out before Izuku is tugging his sweatpants off all the way, throwing them across the room. He slides Katsuki’s shirt up his ribs, then over his head.
He reaches to return the favor, but that’s when Izuku tuts his tongue, swatting his hand away.
“Not yet,” he murmurs, reaching down to press a kiss against Katsuki’s jaw. “Let me play with you a little longer, baby.”
“Yeah,” Katsuki shudders, feeling the last bit of fight in him bleed out. “Okay.”
Izuku chuckles against his skin, then moves down a bit further. He closes his mouth around a pink, pebbled nipple and uses his tongue to tease it.
He can see that Izuku is hard, bulge pressing against the fabric of his slacks, and he can feel it against his thigh. His clothes are still on, but his belt is undone, his tie is dangling above Katsuki and following wherever he licks.
Katsuki moves impulsively, reaching to tangle his fingers within Izuku’s curls. He pulls him up to his face with a hiss. The fight within him comes back for a brief moment.
“Izuku. If you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll kill you.”
The dizzy, air-headed look that’s been on Izuku’s face since they left the bar suddenly disappears. His eyes darken. Izuku slams a hand over Katsuki’s mouth and presses him down—Katsuki instantly drops his hands from his hair.
“You’re such a brat, Kacchan,” he says. “No patience. No manners. No respect for authority.”
Katsuki huffs against his hand, fighting the urge to bite it.
“Y’know,” Izuku pauses. “I could just leave you here… just like this. I’m tired too, Kacchan. You’re not the only one who works.”
Katsuki whines. His own words cruelly used against him. So flippantly, too.
Izuku furrows his eyebrows. “Oh? You don’t want that?”
Katsuki feels his breath hitch. He shakes his head.
“Then tell me what you want. Nicely.”
Izuku takes his hand away, and places it against Katsuki’s palm.
“Try again. What does Kacchan want from me?” He looks at him, waiting.
Katsuki feels his face burning. “I want...”
“You want what? Spit it out, baby,” Izuku hums.
“I want you.” Katsuki pauses. “To fuck me.”
“Nicer.”
“Please,” he says, gently. “I want you to put your dick in me. Right now. Please.”
“Good boy, Kacchan. Much, much better,” Izuku says, smiling. “But not yet.”
Katsuki’s heart sinks. “What?!”
Izuku stifles a laugh. He sinks back between Katsuki’s legs, but instead of dropping to the floor—he presses Katsuki’s thighs up to his chest.
He slides his tongue over Katsuki’s hole, pressing in and out and in and out and in and out and—Jesus, he’s already about to lose it again.
Katsuki’s sweaty, flushed, glassy-eyed. He’s staring at the ceiling, hands tangled tightly within the sheets. He’s not begging through clenched teeth anymore. He can't. There’s a hot coil in his stomach, moments away from snapping.
His mouth is hanging open, with little pathetic sounds spilling out. Every movement makes him weaker than the last. Izuku licks particularly deep, then pulls out to lick his taint, and Katsuki feels himself suddenly get shoved towards the edge.
His vision’s blurring, and he thinks his cheeks might be wet.
“Izuku, please, shit— fuck me—please—”
Izuku pulls away, and Katsuki clenches. His hand wraps around Katsuki’s cock again, using weak little strokes to push him closer.
“Take what I give you,” he says softly, words slurring. “You wanna be a good boy, right? For me?”
Katsuki looks down at him through teary eyes and sobs out a broken,“Yes.”
Izuku smiles. “Then wait.”
He lets go, relaxes back into the bed.
Katsuki’s not even fighting anymore.
Izuku chuckles again, and for a brief moment Katsuki wonders why—then he feels a finger press in.
“Ah, Izuku.”
Whatever alcohol was in Izuku’s system clearly isn’t bugging him now. Maybe it was the warm, night air that sobered him up. Or maybe it was a moment of clarity achieved through Katsuki’s brattiness.
Either way, his movements are precise now. Izuku’s focused.
He twists in, down to the last knuckle on his finger. It goes in too easy, and Izuku murmurs, “Not as tight as I thought you’d be after three weeks.”
“Dickhead,” Katsuki growls, face burning. “Fuck you.”
“That comes later,” he hums. So smug, Katsuki could rip his head off of his body. “Did you touch yourself while I was busy? Think of me?”
Katsuki just nods, and clenches around Izuku’s finger.
Izuku’s other hand wraps around Katsuki’s thigh, pressing it further up. “I can tell. You’re all nice and smooth down here, too.”
"Been waiting all day,” he sighs as a second finger slides into him, right next to the first. Then he feels a glob of something wet against where he and Izuku are connected.
Katsuki opens his eyes to look down, and Izuku is letting spit fall out of his mouth onto his fingers.
Then he thrusts both fingers, scissors him open, and Katsuki’s cock jerks hard. He can’t stifle the moan that spills from his lips.
Izuku’s clearly in no rush, because he’s just sitting there—holding him open and watching with dazed eyes as his fingers go in and out of him.
A bit of pre-cum gushes out of him, pooling onto his stomach.
Katsuki groans, grasping onto the sheets.
Arguing won’t help. Begging won’t either. Izuku’s in control of it all, regardless of what Katsuki wants to think.
But maybe that’s what he needs right now.
He reaches down to touch his ignored cock, trying to slyly wrap a hand around himself—just enough to inch himself closer. But Izuku pulls both fingers out, grabbing his wrist.
Izuku shakes his head again.
“No touching. Not yet.”
Katsuki wants to scream.
“Izuku,” he whispers. “Please.”
He sighs. “Okay, Kacchan. You asked for it.”
Izuku shoves both wet fingers back into Katsuki, pressing right against his prostate. He sucks the tip of Katsuki’s dick back into his mouth, and then it’s almost instantaneous.
His fingers thrust in fast, relentless, and Izuku just mindlessly swirls his tongue around the tip of his cock, not giving him a second to breathe.
He’s going to cum.
Katsuki knows it—feels it clawing its way up his spine like a live wire. His entire body tenses up, every muscle clenching like he’s about to shatter into a million pieces. His toes curl up, his stomach is tightening so hard it almost hurts.
There’s a deep pressure, right behind his balls, growing with each sloppy lick from Izuku’s tongue.
“Izu—fuck—I’m—”
He’s so close, he can taste it. The world’s blurring out around him. Izuku presses against his prostate again, sucks against his shaft and he’s right there and then—
Izuku pulls away.
Fingers out, mouth off, warmth gone.
Katsuki holds back a raw scream, his body seizing up with denial. His cock violently pulses with nothing, and he’s left against the mattress humping up into the air to chase the orgasm that just slipped through his fucking fingers.
“Fuck, why would you—fucking,” Katsuki mumbles, his voice breaking. “Please.”
Izuku does something worse than laughing this time. He frowns.
In a way that looks like, ‘this hurts me more than it hurts you’, which Katsuki knows is fucking bullshit.
Because absolutely nothing is worse than this.
Katsuki can barely look at him, can barely think straight enough to be angry.
His hole is wet and fluttering around nothing, his cock uselessly leaking against his stomach.
He groans.“Fuck—I was— I was right there.”
“I know, I’m so sorry,” Izuku says, in that fake-sweet voice that Katsuki loves and hates so much. “It’s okay, just a little longer. You’re so good.”
Katsuki whines, hides his face behind his hands and feels tears slide out of the corners of his eyes.
His whole body is still trembling, three weeks of neglect fully catching up with him.
Izuku hops off the bed, and Katsuki doesn’t bother to look from behind his fingers to see what he’s doing.
Click.
He perks up. He knows that sound. It’s the click of the cap of their lube.
Could it be—?
No, no, Katsuki thinks. He can’t let himself think he can cum yet.
Not until he’s sure Izuku is done toying with him.
Then he hears the rustling of clothing being removed, a belt hitting the floor.
He can’t help but get excited.
Katsuki feels weight return to the bed, shifting him slightly. Izuku’s hands pull Katsuki’s off of his face. His thighs are trembling, eyes glassy, as Izuku’s hips slot perfectly in between them.
“Okay, Kacchan,” Izuku says. “I think you’ve been patient enough.”
Katsuki feels his stomach tighten up again.
“I’m gonna fuck you now, okay?”
His hands fist the sheets like they’re the only thing anchoring him to this Earth. That and Izuku’s voice.
He just nods.
Izuku kisses him again, not nearly as rough as he had been earlier—mouth tasting more like cock than liquor. Despite that, it’s soft. Loving.
But Katsuki doesn’t deserve soft right now. He’s been a damn brat all night.
And yet Izuku still gives it to him, sweetly, gently.
“You cum when I cum,” he coos into Katsuki’s neck, and rocks his hips forward slowly. The tip of his cock is nudging against him, slick with lube and hot against his skin. “Can you be good?”
“Yes, f—fuck,” Katsuki chokes. His voice is broken. His body’s on fire. “I’ll be good. Just fucking— ruin me. Don’t go easy.”
Izuku hushes him with another kiss.
“I won’t, Kacchan,” he breathes. “When do I ever?”
And with one slow, torturously deep thrust, he pushes inside.
Katsuki shatters.
He cries out, high in his throat, hands flying to Izuku’s back to hold him there, to pull him closer, like he could disappear at any second.
His legs wrap instinctively around Izuku’s waist, trying to grind his hips up—but Izuku grabs them and pins them to the mattress.
“Relax,” he says, forehead pressed to Katsuki’s. “You cum when I do.”
Katsuki whimpers. He’s damn near folded in half, his own cock rubbing up against his stomach and Izuku’s. There’s nonstop sensation all around him and he can’t fucking escape it.
“Please.”
He can’t hold it. He can’t.
“Shh.” Izuku plants a wet kiss along his cheek, jaw, and the back of his thigh. “Be good, baby. Remember?”
And Katsuki does. He holds on. He’ll be good.
Because what else can he do?
He can barely speak, barely think. His head is full of static and the only thing that matters right now is the way that Izuku feels inside of him, splitting him open.
Izuku rolls his hips.
It’s neither slow nor fast— just perfect little thrusts that drag his cock along every single spot that makes Katsuki shake.
His eyes shut tight, his legs fall open wider, and he can feel himself becoming more pliant with every push into the mattress.
He can’t even beg anymore, just wordless and gasping moans. Izuku’s babbling praises above him.
“Baby, baby,” he chants, grasping onto Katsuki’s thighs. “So good for me. Feel so good. You take me so well.”
He snaps his hips forward and Katsuki screams.
His whole body jolts with a punched-out moan, his fingers twitching against Izuku’s back. Tomorrow, there will be crescent-shaped marks all over his back and he won’t even care.
“Fuck— fuck, Izuku, I’m gonna—please,” Katsuki doesn’t even sound like himself anymore. “Let me, let me cum.”
Izuku cups his cheek, slows down just enough to drag him away from the edge, and leans in to kiss him deep. He pulls away to press their foreheads again, sweat dripping in between them.
“You wanna cum?” Izuku whispers, like he doesn’t already know.
Like he hasn’t kept Katsuki waiting for a month.
Like he hasn’t yanked him to the edge just to drag him back without mercy.
Katsuki’s almost sobbing. He nods so hard it’s almost frantic, he knows he looks pathetic. He feels pathetic.
“Then ask for it,” Izuku tells him, thrusting in gently. “I’ll let you.”
Katsuki’s voice breaks in half. “Can I—can I cum? Please? Please , I—I need it, I—”
He doesn’t even finish the sentence before Izuku wraps a hand around him and slams into him one last time—as far as he can go—and everything inside Katsuki explodes.
That’s all it takes.
It’s like fire bursting from his chest. His back arches off the bed in a violent spasm, his orgasm ripped out of him with a sob so raw it sounds painful.
Everything around him blurs out, his ears ring, and he digs his nails into the skin of Izuku’s back.
Hot, heavy spurts of cum paint both of their stomachs, leaking off onto the mattress. His entire body locks up, shuddering into Izuku’s shoulder.
The thrusts don’t stop—and Katsuki lets himself fall pliant into the movement.
He doesn’t even realize Izuku’s finishing until he feels it—Izuku biting into his neck, hips grinding deep, spilling into him with babbling praise that knocks the air from both their lungs.
“Ah, Kacchan,” Izuku breathes, finally collapsing over him. “Fuck.”
They’re still joined, trying to catch their breath. Their skin is clinging where they’re wet with spit and cum and sweat.
Katsuki isn’t even in his body anymore. He’s not in the apartment, or the bed with Izuku.
His brain is completely gone, somewhere up in the clouds. He’s blinking up at the ceiling, lips parted, tears still drying on his cheeks. Everything’s still trembling.
He doesn’t think he could move even if he tried.
And then.
Izuku’s hands are on him again.
But not in the way they were before. There’s one gently brushing through his hair, the other is cradling the side of his face.
“Good boy,” Izuku whispers against his forehead. He plants a sloppy little kiss against it. “My perfect, sweet boy. You did so good for me. So good.”
Katsuki’s lips twitch, barely a breath of a smile. He sighs softly, surrendering fully, eyes slipping closed as Izuku presses kisses to his cheeks, his eyelids, the bridge of his nose.
“I’ve got you,” Izuku murmurs, pulling out slowly.
Everything else fades.
Katsuki only catches fragments after that.
A cool cloth against his belly, gently wiping him clean.
The rustle of warm sheets being pulled over his legs.
Izuku curling up behind him, a strong arm sliding around his waist.
He doesn’t remember falling asleep. But when he opens his eyes again, sunlight is slipping through the curtains.
The room smells like skin and sweat. He shifts slightly, and a sharp, familiar ache lights up his lower back.
Oh.
Last night comes crashing back in flashes.
Izuku being a drunk little menace. The teasing. The begging. The way Izuku took care of him when he was half-conscious.
Katsuki groans and flops back into the pillows.
Beside him, Izuku stirs—eyes bleary, greasy curls sticking up in a billion directions.
“Morning, nerd.”
He yawns and stretches an arm out towards him. “Good morning, Kacchan.”
Katsuki sighs. “You fucked me up, Izuku.”
Izuku’s sleepiness disappears in an instant. He winces, sheepish. “Sorry. Did I go too hard?”
“Shut up, idiot.” Katsuki smirks. “I liked it.”
Izuku relaxes back into the pillow. He smiles, relieved.
“…But don’t ever make me wait three weeks again, fucker,” he grumbles, punching Izuku in the arm.
He just giggles. “Okay, Kacchan,” he says. “Love you.”
“Love you too, nerd.”