The excuse is, they’re drunk at the waning end of a Yaoyorozu houseparty, which chiefly means a mystery game-show selection of doors, behind which are prizes no one wants, and empty bedrooms abound.
In the Yaoyorozu household, it’s no secret that entire wings of the house hold a regular reservation for the purpose of hosting rowdy Class A alumni get-togethers every few months. It’s a proverbial wonderland of unauthorised behaviour and hook-ups that No One Speaks of Again. Nostalgia’s weird, especially when they all have lives to go back to and continue pursuing their own meaning of what it means to be a Hero once the party’s over.
The reality is, it’s a long-as-hell time coming and this executive suite – that’s seriously the room’s name – is just the setting that Ochako, Izuku and Katsuki happen to be in by the time the last few party-goers of the night leave. Because everyone else just… goes back to their rooms.
As he makes up half of the longest reigning couple of their former classmates-cum-social-circle, and because 50% of that couple is Bakugo Katsuki, the top pick of the cushy suites in the Yaoyorozu household has always, inevitably been Katsuki’s. It’s never been an argument.
However, because the other 50% of that supreme power couple is Uraraka Ochako, people actually get to hang out in the swish hotel-style room. They enjoy the plush sofa set and flat-screen TV all evening, while drinks go down smoother and smoother as they all – well, some of them – learn how to hold their alcohol. It goes down smoothly enough that none of them will be able to able to blame what happens on the booze, which is merely the catalyst for a long-unanswered question.
That the room the drunk trio occupies the sofa suite of happens to contain a King-sized bed in the background, where the Benevolent Queen and Barely Tolerant King spend their nights is a fact that has stood without question. But as questions go, most people don’t wanna know the answer. Watching Ochako and Katsuki maintain an argument about groceries and taking out some of the district’s roughest gangs on the way back from shopping – well, that’s enough to understand what goes on behind closed doors with two people so astonishingly attuned to each other physically.
Except for Izuku, obviously.
Sitting on the sofa at right-angles to Ochako and Katsuki, Izuku makes himself utterly at home. Because he has always been slightly too okay with Katsuki and Ochako’s relationship. Like he’s okay with it, but he’s super okay. As in, a level of “okay with it” that means Izuku doesn’t leave the room when Katsuki’s hand keeps shifting from the strip of Ochako's exposed belly under her baggy pyjama t-shirt to grab her boobs.
“Cut it out,” Ochako finally scolds when Katsuki’s wandering hands find their way under her top again, but when his liquor-sweet mouth comes down hot against the softest corner of her neck, the bit he knows makes her melt, Ochako’s had as much to drink as any of them and lets out a needy, “ Ng, seriously, Katsuki.”
“Make me,” Katsuki murmurs in a low, possessive growl that only seems to come out with such intensity in these Deku moments, where for some reason – again – it’s turned into the three of them and no one else around. Where Kacchan likes to make a show of his physical relationship with Ochako, and Deku’s a little too into it for someone who rejected her all those years ago. “‘Sides, Deku doesn’t care.”
Katsuki’s tongue pulls with just the right amount of liquidity to friction in a strip across Ochako’s skin, like he can taste the booze sweating out of her as quickly as she got it into her. His hand disappears back up her top again, and Ochako gasps, fighting herself and hesitant with the way she clenches Katsuki’s wrist before drawing his hand back down to her waist. “That’s not the point,” she says with a criminally telling tremor in her voice, and not-quite-strong-enough in willpower to push Katsuki any further away.
Katsuki’s still mouthing Ochako’s neck, but he stops dead when Izuku remarks, “It kinda is.”
“See?” Katsuki mutters hot over Ochako’s skin, then closes his mouth to the junction of her shoulder. His teeth dig in until she gasps and grabs him clumsily, eyes sliding shut as he works every sweet spot he’s learned over a couple years of dating. Katsuki jokes, well, it’s not actually a joke: he claims he know Ochako’s body better than she does. He’s probably put more dedicated hours into its study than she has. At least in some areas.
Katsuki pulls back with clear intent, waiting until Ochako’s too soft to resist him face to face, and then kisses her on the mouth. For a couple who’ve been infamously dating so long, most of the time Katuski and Ochako are pretty restrained with their public displays of affection. But Izuku’s different. The public are uncomfortable when things get heated between Ochako and Katsuki. That seems to be about the time Izuku just forgets how to disengage, almost like he’s content to be there. Interested, even, in the same way Deku’s fascinated by their Zero-G fighting style and even as standalone and power-duo Heroes. The ultimate fanboy watching his favorite hero-and-real-life-couple behind the scenes.
Ochako finds herself kissing Katsuki back with alcohol-fuelled enthusiasm, then finally manages to drag drunk-Ochako back from her boyfriend in mortification. “Not in front of Deku,” she argues pretty pathetically, given the fact that they were and are.
“It’s okay, I… really don’t mind,” Izuku offers up, but doesn’t add the ‘I’ll just be leaving’ that just about anyone else might have followed with to be courteous. It’s the one question a drunk Izuku never has any intention of raising. He doesn’t seem to recognise that he can leave, even if he wanted to – which seems very much up for debate at the moment.
Katsuki kisses Ochako again before either of them can respond to Izuku, and there's no contest for who can capture her attention; not when she and Katsuki are twisted together on one sofa, while Izuku perches neatly on the other, like he’s so completely okay with waiting for his friends to finish heavy-kissing right next to him that it's hardly worth talking about.
Though it can’t be helped but noticed that Izuku is watching them, his face an open notebook waiting to be filled with ever-more information about Ochako and Kacchan, flashes of that childlike hero-worship catching alight like grease above a hot pan. There’s something in the air tonight, some alignment of factors that finally tips the balance. Like what they're doing isn't just happening next to Izuku, but for him.
Their lips part with a wet noise, and Katsuki’s stays close as he sounds out breathy words that rush hot over Ochako’s slightly swollen mouth. “Hell, you’d watch me fuck her, wouldn’t you?”
“Katsuki- ” It’s meant to be a scold, but that’s not really how it sounds when it comes out.
“No, Kacchan’s… right,” Izuku admits with a flush that can’t be all alcohol lighting up his freckled cheeks. Then he hears himself, and now he's really blushing. “Not that I’m saying you should- ”
“Oh, we’re gonna,” Katsuki replies sordidly. “So you can get the hell out like everyone else who can take a hint, Deku, or stay there being a creep and get a load of what you missed out on.” His face ducks forward and scrapes with not-so-recently-shaved stubble along Ochako’s jaw, wet mouth to her neck again – he’s going to make a mess of her tonight, she can tell already. Not least because Ochako has no intention of stopping him. She manages to redirect the hand of Katsuki’s that dives between her legs to divert around to her butt instead, grabbing a generous handful of her ass and dragging her more directly into his lap.
As it turns out, Katsuki likes to be teased – so he discovered, back in the clumsy learning stages where they just got to work it out, together, at their own pace. But now they’re comfortable with themselves, and each other, and they’re young enough still to have a ways to go learning all the nuances of what they’re into. Not to mention there’s no Katsuki-satisfaction in being the best at something if it doesn’t feel like a competition, and it’s always a contest when Deku’s around.
“You said no, and now she’s mine,” Katsuki slurs a little, but he’s not really that wasted – it’s the lust that gets him groggy. The fact that Deku’s always watching them is certainly something he’s been consistently vocal about over the… years… though perhaps for different reasons than Ochako's assumed up until now. “Maybe if you get to watch for once you'll stop being such a perv about it.”
“I…” It's so Deku, again, as always. His hands are resting on his knees, the white threads of his scars laced around fingers that are curled tightly into his palms, each fist balled against his thighs. The hesitancy to admit what he wants, like it's inherently selfish to have a desire that's just for him. Ochako would pull her hair out if Katsuki wasn't pulling it for her, tipping back her head so she arches her back for him, buries his face in her chest, mouthing through the helplessly thin fabric of her top. “Won't stay if you don't want me to.”
Katsuki lifts his face from Ochako's chest and laughs cruelly. “Want you to? If you wanna jerk it for the first time watching me fuck my girlfriend, just say it already.”
This is almost patience and understanding from Katsuki, in his own way. It acknowledges things that Ochako's been skirting around and sometimes floating right over for years: Izuku is ace, that's never changed – and he's been given plenty of offers that he politely turned down – but it’s never meant he can't be curious about sex.
And for Izuku, Katsuki and Ochako are his preferred resource on anything in that particular ballpark. It might not be the smartest opinion to hold, admiring a couple who famously broke up, got back together and then got given a warning for public acts of indecency during a televised fight only a few months ago. So who are they to judge anyone's preferences?
“... Yeah,” Deku sounds so ashamed Ochako wants to run over there and give him a hug, but it's difficult with Katsuki trying to sneak his hand between her legs again. “I mean, just to watch. I… I wouldn't mind.”
Only Katsuki could drag such an admission out of him, pulling on those deeply buried hooks they have in each other’s pasts; that instinct where if he tells Deku to do something, anything to be a little bit closer to Kacchan, chance is good Deku’ll do it.
But Ochako has something to say on the matter too. “No,” she announces, wriggling away from Katsuki in a way that only leaves her closer to him. His hands and mouth stop their ambitious exploration of Ochako’s neck as soon as the ‘no’ comes out her mouth, so it's actually her desperation for Katsuki to keep going that makes Ochako realise what she's not finished saying. “I mean, Deku doesn't only have to watch.” Ochako takes Katsuki’s wandering hand and moves his fingers against her crotch with a light shudder. “He can…” Ochako's just drunk enough to say this, but it still scandalises her as if someone else is making the suggestion, “join in… if he wants to.”
“Join in?” Deku sounds terrified, while Katsuki lets out a noncommittal grunt that could go either way, probably more focused on working his hand over the not-all-that-much-of-a-barrier fabric of Ochako’s panties now he’s cleared for access.
“Only if you want to,” Ochako rushes, making eye contact with Izuku and realising just how intense and too much it is talking to him when Katsuki's trying to get her off at the same time. On purpose, probably. “You- fuck,” she breaks off as Katsuki moves closer to his objective, “whatever you’re comfortable with, Deku.” She turns to Katsuki, luring him in with the premise of a kiss, but evading it with movement like they're the same poles of magnets trying to come together. “Isn't that right?” she fishes for confirmation from Katsuki, who lets slip a primal noise at being denied – he loves it really – and ducks in to nip at her neck.
“Sure, I'll show him how it's done,” he growls into the hollow under Ochako’s ear, hands coming in for a two-handed grip on her ass and dragging her into his lap so he can grind on her properly. “There's enough of you to go round.”
And, it doesn't need to be said, Katsuki will all but revel in being the one who knows more than Deku; who gets to be best and show off how good he and Ochako are at this. Hell, it's amazing this is the first time it's actually come to this point – because it's been a long time coming.
Speaking of which… it's no secret that Katsuki has a deep-seated need to be the best at anything he dares to attempt. He’s also been invested in learning Ochako's body and carnal needs for a long time now, almost as long as she has. So if Katsuki wants or happens to be dedicated to the cause of being better at getting Ochako off than even she is, that’s just a happy nuance of their ever-evolving dynamic. Ochako’s hardly needed to know how, with Katsuki so eager to own her pleasure through that possessive streak a mile wide. She’s not exactly going to find fault with that particular manifestation of his competitive nature. Though she's pretty damn good at returning the courtesy by getting him off before he gets her. There's some funny R-rated stories attached to that little domestic rivalry.
But on this occasion, Ochako's being held up as the example of everything Izuku turned down once upon a time: a fact that Katsuki seems more determined to hang onto than any of them. Still a greedy kid in a lot of ways, wanting everything that Deku could have had all for himself. At least Katsuki’s grown enough since those turbulent early years, as a person and maybe even a friend, it could tentatively be argued, to learn how to share. At long as it’s on his terms.
On this occasion, Katsuki seems more than happy to demonstrate what he's learned to the one-person class. Ochako's booze-needy enough that when he urges her hips up and pulls her sweatpants down, she complies, lifting one knee after the other before settling back down straddling Katsuki’s lap, wearing what he’s been known to call ‘hotel sex panties’ that she really hadn't been banking on anyone except Katsuki seeing her in tonight. Naturally, Deku is fascinated.
For a while Katsuki and Ochako catch up on the steamy, ass-on-dick-grinding makeouts they've been holding back on for propriety’s sake – not that propriety gives a shit anymore. If Izuku fulfils the role of propriety, it could more easily be said that watching them like this is his ideal fantasy porn. It might well be. Like there isn’t a single detail he'd change that would make him more interested in what he's seeing.
Or so Izuku thinks.
“Turn around.” Katsuki’s voice has a throaty hoarseness that speaks to all kinds of dirty secrets, things that have only been between him and the girlfriend he adores until now. It's no shock that Katsuki loves a platform, a stage or mountaintop to scream his greatness from. And the one person he really wants to hear that roar is sitting right there, eyes glazing over until they could be made of glass. “That dirty nerd wants to watch you come.”
Ochako’s wet clay in his hands, helping Katsuki flip her so she's spread across his lap facing forward. The loose top that wasn’t doing the best job at covering Ochako’s meant-to-be-seen bra is pulled off with a helping hand from Katsuki, palm coasting down her body thereafter as he shifts Ochako into a comfortable resting position. Legs apart so there's no hiding the replacement of his hand first over, then prying past flimsy stretch-lace to be unquestionably in, her panties.
Katsuki’s red hot gaze fixes on Izuku, still sitting in the same place on the adjacent sofa. His mouth sounds dry next to Ochako's ear, like he can't believe he's about to get away with this. “Ain't that right?”
It's an arrogant, jealous way to ask – but it is asking. So when Izuku clears his throat and gives a tremoring, “Uhuh,” everyone know they’re clear to proceed.
It wasn't always the case – no, not even Bakugo Katsuki is good at sex to begin with – but prolonged and vested effort, plenty of communication and only one incident that resulted in burned pubic hair means that by now Katsuki has a pretty good idea of how to get his girlfriend off. But tonight it's extra easy. Anyone would think she's enjoying the spotlight.
Ochako rolls her head back to rest on Katsuki’s shoulder, hips lifting and chest rising sharply as she gasps for each step he takes her closer. “Almost,” she pants, pushing eagerly against the rhythmic motion of Katsuki’s fingers. “Don't stop.”
“Not stopping,” Katsuki pours in her ear like dark honey, his other hand coming up to her jaw, finger sneaking across her lips until Ochako parts them and takes Katsuki’s finger into her mouth. “You can do it.”
Ochako shudders and comes like a piece of erotic performance art – and Deku is its most adoring reviewer. Katsuki whips the hand from Ochako’s panties to join the other on the doorstep of her mouth, walking slick fingers across her lips. Ochako’s tongue brushes against the sweaty tang off Katsuki’s fingertips and then sighs, letting him support her climax-loose body to bend in his grip until she faces him. “Good girl.”
Their mouths meet at such an angle that Izuku catches a tiny glimpse of their tongues moving past their strained-together mouths as they kiss. It’s a few moments – well, more like a minute or two – before Ochako turns back to the front and alights a hazy gaze on Izuku.
Izuku looks quite a lot more relaxed than most people would be after seeing the thing that just happened happen, but that’d be because he clearly wants to be here. There’s a part of this that’s different for Izuku, a curiosity that’s more naivety than his years would betray. The older he gets, the clearer it becomes that there’s a pureness of soul within Izuku that’s never going to be grown out of – not a childlike innocence, but with the same insight that children start out with and lose as they grow older. His reaction isn’t the same as a lot of people’s would be, but that doesn’t make it any better or worse – it’s just Izuku’s reaction.
The world that Izuku’s rich green eyes look on is truly full of wonder and hope: a force that doesn’t fade but grows stronger year on year. Because he sees the best of what everything could be. So right now Izuku is seeing the best in Kacchan and Ochako too, just in a way most people would rather let them attend to by themselves. Izuku also loves to learn, and adoring Kacchan – hanging on his words with imitation as the truest form of flattery – has been a lifelong habit. He’s not about to stop now.
So when Katsuki says, “You still with us, Deku?” there’s a bond of understanding that’s decades old, not minutes. Hell, they’ve had their ups and downs, some serious fucking downs, but if there’s ever been someone who can translate the complicated language of competition and admiration between Izuku and Katsuki into a way that lets them understand each other, it’s Uraraka Ochako. Who happens to be looking terribly pleased with herself right about now.
“Uh-huh,” is the entirety of Izuku’s response, and if anything, Katsuki seems pretty pleased with himself too. It’s an achievement to have stopped the waterfall that’s Midoriya Izuku’s chatterbox mouth without even laying a hand on him.
Not yet done with the show, once the flush in Ochako’s cheeks has subsided to a rosy pink she slides down Katsuki like she’s a cat that doesn’t want to be picked up. Ochako goes from her front-facing straddle over Katsuki’s lap to have her head between his knees, her own knees pressing into the soft executive suite carpet in pretty impressive time.
“Your turn,” she announces like a cat taking a cream bath with Queen Cleopatra. She’s not really that wasted, just off her head with post-climax buzz. Ochako reaches with practiced confidence for the extra-tight fly of Katsuki’s jeans.
Katsuki grins, which isn’t so unusual given he’s a guy about to get head from his girlfriend; that he does it making full eye contact with Izuku is new. It’s a scenario purpose-built for Katsuki’s glass ego, with the long-held crack that marks where Izuku strikes against it. For someone supposed to be so self-assured, Katsuki sure is crippled when it comes to measuring himself against Deku. Whether it’s quirks, girlfriends, the strength of their bodies or even their hearts, there’s a constantly climbing ranking between the two that only they can speak to the balance of, and half the time can’t even agree on who’s winning.
One thing’s for sure: the ranking’s thrown way out trying to tally the scores of Deku watching the first girl who ever confessed to him – the only girl he’d ever wanted to try being with, even if she wouldn’t have it – pulling Kacchan’s cock out of jeans and boxers and starting to suck him off.
Especially when the girl in question is Katsuki’s going on five years on-off-but-actually-just-on girlfriend. Ochako was the one who chose not to be with Izuku, even caring for him as much as she did and does, because he couldn’t reciprocate an appetite that Katsuki is first in line to admit is voracious. Katsuki feeds off the worship Ochako requires like he’s a plant spreading roots. That’s why he’s the one who wakes up every day being the person Ochako chooses to be with. This whole situation is Kacchan crack, to put it bluntly.
Katsuki’s head rolls back and his eyes squeeze shut, hips lifting and his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as Ochako tests him against the back of hers. “Good girl,” Katsuki groans as he bucks into her mouth. One palm comes to lay flat against the back of Ochako’s head without exerting any force, the other hand reaching up to tug though his hair. Ochako doesn’t need any help taking her boyfriend’s cock; she’s a well-practiced pro at it.
It’s a little known fact – purely because there’s only two people who need to know, and a third who doesn’t need to but still wants in on the secret anyway – how long it doesn’t take Bakugo Katsuki to come. How, if she times everything right, Ochako can make Katsuki finish in her mouth inside a minute. So he’s actually got to be prepared enough to use that grip on her head to lift her mouth off him, to stop himself busting a nut before the first act is even finished. It wouldn’t be the first time, but they’re on good behaviour for Izuku. Or they’re trying to be, anyway.
Speaking of which, Izuku’s eyes are at half-mast, almost as if he’s watching an uplifting TV show and not graphic acts. His dopey kind-of smile transfigures into a more startled shock when Ochako swivels around ninety degrees and puts her hand on Izuku’s knee. It’s not a heavy touch, nor particularly aggressive or sexual. She could just use the balance, and Izuku’s knee comes up before the edge of the couch does.
“Are you sure you're okay, Deku?” Ochako asks with clear eyes that gaze up at him the way she has for so long, since she met him – Ochako never knew before-Deku, the one that Katsuki’s got intimate knowledge of she’ll never have, and struggles not to feel envious of sometimes.
For what it counts, Ochako’s always seen Izuku the way he wanted to be seen: as a Hero, an inspiration to those around him. That he never felt the same way about Ochako as she did for him was never enough to break that admiration, because her affection for Deku was – and is – never based on reciprocity. But if Izuku does reciprocate, in any form, even just this tentative, not-sure-but-curious experience, it’s more than Ochako could have ever dreamed of.
“Is there…” Now the touch of Ochako’s hand on Izuku’s knee gets a little firmer, a squeeze that hopes to be as reassuring as it is promising. “Anything you want to try?”
“I…” Izuku is flustered. Hell, he looks like someone glued a ball of yarn to the top of a tomato and then drew on freckles. But instead of pushing, Ochako’s just rubbing his knee; gently, reassuringly, like it’s going to be alright and he can take his time if he needs to. Izuku’s gaze lifts from Ochako, literally on her knees in front of him, to Katsuki all slouched with his dick out on the other sofa.
“She gives great head, s’all I’m saying.” It’s like Katsuki wants to prove it, wants someone else to try it and confirm that Katsuki’s girlfriend does indeed give the best head in the world. He sure believes it.
“It doesn’t have to be that,” Ochako caveats with a quick glance over at Katsuki then back to Izuku, “anything you want to do-” Ochako stops herself as she seems to realise her palm’s creeping up Deku’s leg, pulling it back like he’s wired to give an electric shock. “I didn’t meant to… is touching you like that okay?”
“Yeah.” Izuku’s throat sounds thick, his voice lower than it used to be, but still retaining that high-pitched crack where the well of his emotion seeps through. “You can.”
“Fuck can.” This actually comes from Ochako, who holds herself up a little higher on her knees. “It’s only what you want, Deku, you don’t have to go along with this just because…”
“No,” Izuku interrupts, which is quite a big thing, and Ochako’s flustered by the clarity with which he lays down the line. “I want it, just … slow.”
Ochako’s hand comes back down on Izuku’s knee. “Tell me and I’ll stop.”
“No.” Izuku’s head shakes. “Don’t stop.”
Ochako runs her palm, the pads of her fingertips pressing against the fabric of Izuku’s pants, up from his knee to about the middle of a muscular thigh, then pauses and goes lax for a moment. Ochako’s hand lifts, but so does Izuku under it, floating up in a way that seems to alarm them both. That’d be because gravity stopped applying to them, by accident.
“Shit! Sorry, I-”
A laugh from Katsuki cuts Ochako off, and apparently deciding he can’t be bothered to drag himself off the other couch just yet, he sits up and slides forward to the edge of it. “You must be pretty outta it if you’re floaty.” He catches Ochako by one of her ankles and brings her up to the corner of the couch like an erotic inflatable. Because he’s Bakugo Katsuki and he can’t wait for anything, he tugs her so quickly that Ochako sprawls in surprise, almost sending an utterly dazed-and-confused Deku flying across the room.
To prevent that awkward outcome, Ochako rushes both hands to push down on Izuku’s thighs and shoves him back on the couch, then slides onto her wrists to press her fingertips together and bolts, “Release!” before coming to the realisation that she now has her face hanging a lot closer to Izuku’s crotch than when she was on the floor. Close enough to notice he’s for sure got an erection.
Ochako looks up from Deku’s boner to his face, one of Katsuki’s hands wrapped around her ankle and sprawled sort of weird-awkwardly between the two sofas with a low table in the corner between them. She sees the moment of change in Izuku’s face. Ochako bites her lip, hard, trying not to lose it, desperately hanging on, even though it’s hopeless because she’s about to…
“I swear to god if you two-” Katsuki’s mid-grumble when Ochako bursts out laughing, followed by Izuku who breaks a moment later. Ochako’s laugh cuts off when Katsuki loops an arm firmly around her waist and tugs her rear half into a more stable position that happens to face him on the couch. Then Katsuki leans over and rubs a couple of fingers over the soaked crotch of Ochako’s panties. “Remember me?” he announces hoarsely, before turning his mouth down to softly bite the soft part – well, it’s mostly all soft – of her butt.
“Yeah,” Ochako squeaks and gives a shudder, then refocuses on Izuku with a smile that’s mirrored on each of their mouths. She moves her hand, so she’s kneeling half-on one sofa and the rest on Katsuki on the other. One palm to the sofa, the other high up on Izuku’s thigh. “Can I?”
“Yeah.” Deku can’t nod fast enough, and his eyelids flutter closed as Ochako’s hand slips over the bulge in his pants. Ace for Izuku, at the very least, means not feeling the kind of attraction that Ochako and Katsuki feel for each other up to three times a day.
That doesn’t mean he’s got no sex drive at all, but hell if Izuku’s any good at figuring it out. He can tell what feels good, and what’s weird but not-too-weird. Safe enough to be something he’s allowed to flirt with the idea of, in a way that won’t leave anyone else feeling cheated or left out. Katsuki and Ochako have it on their own good authority that they’ve got everything they need in each other. So being able to accommodate a guest spot in their usual two-person act isn’t going to leave any hearts hurting, at least they have to hope. They're certainly doing their best.
Ochako feels Izuku through his clothing while Katsuki rubs her through her own, though eventually he gets sick of her panties and pulls them down her ass before ducking in again to get a taste. Ochako lets out a noise as Katsuki’s tongue swirls around already-sensitive skin, and then feels a throb in Izuku’s crotch like the call of an echo. Ochako decides he can’t be comfortable. Carefully, like extending a handful of feed to a deer, she moves her fingertips to the fastening of Izuku’s pants.
Katsuki emerges, swinging himself out from under Ochako’s crotch and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “C’mon already,” he says low and leery, hurrying Ochako at Izuku’s fly. “Gotta admit, I’m curious.” Katsuki leaves the finer details of just what he wants to know about the contents of Izuku’s pants to the imagination, but how fine do the details have to be?
Izuku’s hands move to help, fumbling like he’s never taken his own clothes off before. It's disastrous, a belt flapping wildly, and even with Ochako’s help they end up just shoving his pants down about to his knees and then get bored with the rest.
Katsuki starts to snort, then breaks into a full laugh, which is contagious enough Ochako picks it up too. “Of course you’d have All Might boxers,” Ochako teases with a radiant grin, and Izuku’s flushed with embarrassment. But that might be more to do with the tent he’s pitching under the caricaturised All Might-face print and not that he’s still wearing superhero underwear. Deku is a Hero after all; he ought to be entitled to any underwear he wants. In Ochako's case: none at all.
“They’re not all like that,” Izuku justifies utterly unnecessarily, then realises that Ochako cares much less about his boxers than what’s in them when she just grabs hold of him through the mini All-Mights. After a single squeeze, a truly unfortunate stain appears over one Mini-Might’s hair antennae; a small patch of precome spreads across the fabric from Ochako’s assured grip.
“You fuckin’ teasing me here?” Katsuki taunts before taking another mouthful of Ochako's ass and nipping ‘til she squeaks. “Dick out, Deku.”
That speeds the process along, and Izuku lifts his hips and shoves his boxers and the bunched-up rest of his pants off so he can actually sit freely, curving slightly upward and very much being there. Just Izuku, being turned on watching Ochako and Katsuki screw.
On which note, Katsuki wrestles out of the rest of his own clothes like a dog shaking off water.
“Suck his cock already, babe,” Katsuki declares as a real, out-loud announcement of what he thinks should be happening right now, at least with the front end of Ochako.
Unhooking her pulled-down-already bra with the advantage of being able to see the fastening, Katsuki guides Ochako's last articles of clothing off and grabs a feel of a full breast, a muffled sound of pleasure from her pinched-shut mouth.
Because if she opens it, Ochako's going to say, “Not yet,” which is exactly what she does a moment later, the boys on either end of her hesitating expectantly before she carries on, “there's something I'd like to try first.”
She's talking to Izuku, who nods with a stunned, “Yeah?”
“Can we… kiss again?” Ochako asks with surf crashing on rocks nausea in her cocktail-lined ocean of a stomach. “I know it didn't go so well the first time, but-”
Deku looks astonished she's even starting to justify herself, and again interrupts just to tell her, “Of course we can,” then his eyes lift past Ochako, and she gives a shudder that's Katsuki working two fingers inside of her as he lazily jerks himself over the tableau he's looking at. “If Kacchan doesn't mind…”
“Where I'm about to stick this, you can do whatever you want with her mouth,” Katsuki rasps with a not actual dick-measuring contest but almost as literally as it could be. Katsuki pulls his fingers out of Ochako and then gets up onto his knees behind her, throwing off one of the couch cushions carelessly as he gets enough room to line up behind Ochako as she corners the two sofas and meets Deku’s verdant gaze square on.
There's no doubt whatsoever that Katsuki is watching, paying close, close attention, so that the moment Ochako places a hand on Izuku’s shoulder for support and stretches to gently brush her lips over his, that's the exact moment Katsuki pushes forward on his end and slips into Ochako up to the hilt. Because she's kissing Izuku when it happens, the resultant noise Ochako makes comes out right on top of his mouth. Izuku doesn't mind that. In fact, the opposite is the truer.
Izuku's eyes dart from Ochako's flushed, lust-hazy open-mouthed expression to Katsuki behind her and then back again. Then he sits up and goes for another kiss, more assertive this time, tongue probing for Ochako's like he's following the examples she and Katsuki have been so helpful to provide for him.
It's the kind of kiss that, if Izuku had given back when they were younger, things might have gone very differently. But if things then hadn't happened the way they did, things now surely wouldn't either. So the time and longer path it's taken for Izuku to get here is no lesser, and the path he chose is the only one they need, because he's here now and wants to be. Which is all that really matters.
As much as luck can be the write-off excuse for long-simmering tensions, and this evening as merely the boiling-over point for that watched pot, Ochako's definitely one lucky girl. When Izuku kisses her even more deeply, a squeezing shudder racks her whole body, and Katsuki gives a primal grunt.
“Felt that,” Katsuki mutters – he would – and then draws back to thrust again with a mind to break Ochako's mouth from Izuku with another needy cry. Joke’s on him, because Ochako just moans into Izuku's mouth, slightly jostled as Katsuki starts to bounce into her, two hands gripping her across the ass.
“I know you know where to find his cock,” Katsuki reminds Ochako, lest she get too busy catching-up on kissing her first love while her second feels her clenching around his cock. The con is thinking it's a competition – well, it is a competition, but a good-natured one. One where they all get to win, multiple times if they want to.
Because it's always been wrong to assume that loving Katsuki would ever make Ochako care for Izuku less. He's Deku and not caring for him is like not caring if the sun rises each morning; without him, there's no day or night, or world as they know it. Nothing would be the same in an incomparably worse way in every way without Izuku, so to not adore him is simply wrong.
In a poor cliche, or maybe just because Izuku isn't the most experienced of kissers and wet is a key word at play right now, there's a trail of saliva that stretches thin and breaks between Ochako and Izuku’s mouths when they finally part. Looks better than it is, but for Katsuki’s viewing pleasure it works just fine, a deep throb running through him that Ochako feels within.
Ochako does know where Izuku's cock is, though not quite as intimately as she knows where Katsuki’s is right now. She's getting a regular reminder as Katsuki fucks her good and slow, still not looking to bust out early when there's plenty more material for the spank bank coming.
Newly inspired, Ochako wraps her hand around the base of Izuku's cock and watches the flutter of his eyelashes, the sharp intake of breath he draws into a broad – not quite as broad as Katsuki's, but every bit as strong – chest. “Yeah?” she asks tentatively; Izuku's giving every indication he still wants to be here, but checking again costs nothing and makes sure he's not been swept away faster than he's okay with.
Izuku nods, needing to swallow before he can echo, “Yeah,” in return. This bid for clarity is a lost cause anyway, as the sound Izuku makes when Ochako drops down to wrap her hot mouth around his head is like incoherence had a one-night stand with babbling.
“Try not to come in ten seconds,” Katsuki taunts from the apparently very comfortable position of slow-fucking his girlfriend with his rival's cock on the other end. “I know she's good.”
Ochako pulls her mouth off Izuku with a slight pop. “He's only saying that because he did the first ti-” This cuts off when Katsuki tightens his grip and thrusts harder, knocking Ochako further forward on her tripod-stand of two knees and one hand, but more importantly eliciting an orgasmic sound that defeats words. He's got a funny concept of payback, given that Ochako's rewards and punishments are indistinguishable from each other.
There's a back and forth bounce that soon emerges, the bob of Ochako's mouth on Izuku that matches the increasing pace of Katsuki’s hips bumping her from behind. He was right: there's enough of her to go round.
So for once, and largely due to the fact that both their cocks are wet and it leaves them not too bothered with anything else just now, the boys are sharing nicely.
This on its own would be plenty, more than enough for some horny twenty-somethings fooling around at a houseparty. But not a man (or woman) among them does just enough. They take enough and double it, then go further than that. Plus Ultra-style.
Katsuki also has his own first-across-the-finish-line urge to battle with, the everlasting struggle of what he can't control against what he can, so when he stops suddenly and backs away, it's not because of a thing that Ochako and Izuku have done wrong. If anything it’s what they're doing right.
Quietly at first, like he's mulling the idea over by saying it out loud, Katsuki lays a card on the table that goes to the tune of, “Fuck him.”
Ochako lifts off Izuku and looks over her shoulder at Katsuki. “You mean it?” Her gaze turns back to Izuku. “Is it too fast? You don't have to…”
“I…” Izuku starts hesitantly, surely about to lapse into the uncertainty that's made it so hard for him to get this far already. “Well I-”
“Stop overthinking it,” Katsuki comes in like an angle grinder, like he sees the cogs turning in Deku's head and wants to throw a spanner between them. “You already know the answer, so just fucking say it.”
“Yes.” It's an almost universal law that whatever Kacchan asks for Deku will answer, even when the question is ‘do you want to fuck my girlfriend?’ But because he's Deku, it's never a simple answer. “But I've never- I don't know how to, so I'm not sure if I'll- if it'll be any good and-”
“You're doing it again,” Katsuki observes with a dark, dangerous edge: like he's made his position on Izuku overthinking things clear once already, and so help him he better not have to do it again. “Don't worry, you won't have to do anything.”
“Yeah, I'll take care of it all,” Ochako tag-teams, seizing an opportunity like this with both hands. She crawls from halfway across two sofas to entirely on one, the one Izuku is on. That this happens to mean Ochako climbs into Izuku’s lap is merely the collateral. “You can tell me to stop anytime, but if you want to…”
Ochako trails off when Izuku lifts a scarred hand to her cheek, cradling it gently – not out of fear for her fragility, but perhaps his own. Izuku is very good at a lot of things, but thinking that he's deserving of the things he wants, purely on the merit of his wanting them, is something he still needs to work on. But he's trying.
“I want to,” Izuku says without a loud, forceful voice, but not like he's unsure. His strength is much softer than Katsuki’s, but it's never been lesser, just different. “Just to try … if that's okay.”
“Right, because this is the moment we change our minds,” Katsuki scoffs like he can't hack much more of this fluffy bunny stuff. “You sure say some dumb shit.”
“Behave yourself,” Ochako scolds. Like any of them are behaving right now.
“Make me.” It's not a challenge so much as an invitation.
“Just sit your ass down and shut up for five minutes,” Ochako cracks like a whip. “I'll take care of it.”
Izuku looks mortified and Katsuki’s nostrils flare, but he actually… does it, sort of.
A surly but nominally obedient Katsuki shoves a space in the drinks-littered table between the right-angled sofas and sits on the edge, stark fucking naked and still holding an impressive erection. Anyone would think this is a spectator-sport he's set on enjoying, because all he says is, “Go on then, show Deku how good you are at riding cock.” A lot of things are true of Bakugo Katsuki, but his filthy fucking mouth and his tendency for being as extra as possible at any given time are a heady combination in this setting.
Ochako turns from her over-the-shoulder gaze at the walking ball of contradictions that goes by the auspices of her boyfriend back to Izuku, her arms unfastening from their gentle link around his neck, backing away from him – also buttass naked, as it happens – but only to tell him, “Take off your shirt and lie down.” There is a bed literally within sight, but the couch is already here. They can be in bed later.
Izuku does as he’s told double-time, scrambling out of his t-shirt and laying down ramrod straight with his eyes to the ceiling, like he’s waiting for a medical examination. It’s such a picture Ochako breaks into laughter, reaching for Izuku’s hands to squeeze reassuringly in her own.
“Hurry the fuck up.” Katsuki doesn’t like being kept waiting, and doesn’t feel shy about making this opinion known. Izuku’s head turns to the side to glance at him, and Ochako sees an opening, leaning down over Izuku to press her mouth to the exposed stretch of his neck.
Izuku makes a sound that he isn’t proud of, but Ochako sure is. She might also suck just hard enough, low down enough to evade where anyone would be looking on Izuku, to bring up a proof-of-purchase mark at the base of his neck. He loves it. One of Izuku’s hands lifts slowly, and with great care, and reaches for Ochako. The way someone reaches to pet a timid animal, except he’s the one being approached and it’s just the gravity that’s messed up.
Izuku’s fingers brush across the side of a soft-in-every-way breast tentatively at first, then with a little more security, until he’s cupping as much as one of his hands will fit of one of Ochako’s breasts – which is rather more than a handful. Katsuki’s hand, it might be noted, is wrapped around the base of his cock and pulls on it not lazily, but with a precise, controlled pace. Not to much, not too little, just enough to keep skating along the edge of the razor.
Ochako bends at the elbows to kiss Izuku again, distracting him while she fishes a hand back down to his crotch and runs her palm across the long shape of his erection flat against his stomach. Izuku makes a noise against her mouth, but then their lips break apart and she gives a hushed, “I’ll take it nice and slow, okay?”
“No, not okay,” this protest comes from their riled up and verbal-about-it audience, but Katsuki isn’t the one about to have sex for the first time here, so he can pipe down before complaining that the pictures are moving too slow. “Hurry it up.”
“Shut the fuck up, baby,” is how Ochako phrases this, and there’s a just-audible click of Katsuki’s teeth clenching, but he still doesn’t move, complain or stop touching himself. He’s always had the hots for his girl trash-talking people, including and sometimes even especially when it’s directed at him.
“Then fuck him already,” Katsuki leers, so Ochako curls her fingers all the way around Izuku’s leaky erection and holds it away from his body. Straddled carefully over him, Ochako does as she says and takes it slow, moving Izuku by the tip against her – by now straight drowning in – wet, already-fucked pussy. So she’s sure as hell ready, but it’s not all about her.
“Ready?” she asks again, one more time, and Katsuki’s groaning not in a good way, impatient, fucking fed-up, but Ochako’s not talking to him.
Izuku nods, and only then does Ochako do what Katsuki says, lowering just enough for almost frictionless pressure to result in Izuku slipping inside rather than having to be worked – Katsuki warmed her up just right, so the only resistance is of the delicious, pushing-through-the-tension satisfying kind.
Izuku lets out a raw moan, sounding like he’s hurt, eyes a little full as if he might burst into tears, but he’s still with them. His hands move instinctively to Ochako’s waist to hold her firm over him.
“Still okay?” Ochako checks, really fighting with herself not to bottom out and ride her brains out on this new model she’s got to play with.
“Still okay,” Izuku echoes gently, fingers digging deep into the soft curves of Ochako’s hips.
It turns into a more controlled grip, which Izuku uses next to set pace for the rest of the way down, guiding Ochako to keep sinking onto him with a few strangled sounds on the way. But they’re his busted up, tiger-striped scarred hands doing the guiding, and there’s a smile on his face – not a big it’s-gonna-be-alright- maybe one, but a smaller, more sincere smile that means everything already is alright.
Ochako draws a breath when she hits the planes of Izuku’s hips and stops, a different feeling for the new position, much less differences in size, shape… not to mention bend between Izuku and Katsuki. She moves her hips just a little, and makes a noise that has Katsuki’s cock throbbing in his hand.
“Good girl.” Katsuki stands suddenly, still grasping himself as he takes a step over to be close enough to feed the fingers of his other hand through Ochako’s hair. Soothing at first, but then with careful, knows-how-to-do-it practice tightening his hand into a firm grip. Katsuki pulls just enough to guide Ochako’s half-lidded gaze onto his face.
“Uhgh,” is about the best way of putting the sound that comes out of Izuku when the chain reaction is finally complete; from Katsuki’s hand to Ochako’s scalp, down her back with a shudder like a rolling bead of sweat, which manifests in a tight contraction around Izuku’s cock. That needy noise from Izuku goes right back into the erection Katsuki’s still working slowly in his hand. Katsuki and Izuku have always triggered each other, it’s just that doing it through getting Ochako off is a less counterproductive way than usual.
“I knew it already, angel, but you sure love cock, huh?” Katsuki’s taunt is much more adoring than the words would give away, drenched in a hoarse lust that doesn’t leave it to the imagination whether Katsuki wants or likes seeing his girlfriend fuck his lifelong rival. Katsuki is so completely about it that it never needs questioning, even if he wasn’t leaning down first to kiss his girl with well-earned confidence.
With careful encouraging of Ochako to bend like a sapling, Katsuki tempts her mouth closer to his crotch. She goes willingly as he moves himself in return, meeting the two just around the time Ochako pushes herself up on Izuku and then drops experimentally back down.
Ochako might have answered the question, were her mouth not full, but that it only takes a few restrained movements of her hips before Katsuki is slipping free. She lets let loose the moan she has buried deep in spectacular fashion, which is plenty telling as to how she feels about her current allocation of cock.
Katsuki puts an extra oomph into Ochako’s movements over Izuku, not hair-pulling in a painful sense but using a safe, secure grip to encourage her higher up him and harder down. He even lets go of his own pleasure to repurpose the hand and cup a breast that’s just starting to bounce, squeezing before tracing the edge of a rosy areola, letting Ochako gasp and squeak before finally focusing in on her nipple, rolling it gently in his fingertips as her pace on Izuku gets less controlled.
“That’s better,” Katsuki encourages, before his attention finally shifts to Izuku – who looks, all things considered, like he’s having the time of his life . “Told you she’s the best.” It’s not a matter of opinion in Katsuki’s eyes, and might not be in Izuku’s either. They’re almost closed, gaze lifting now and again to confirm it’s all real and seriously happening, then dropping back down to rest as he lets himself be ridden by the girl of his dreams – never mind that the guy of his dreams might be watching.
“You ready to come again?” Katsuki returns to dote on Ochako, making sure that everything that happens here is exactly as and when he wants it – still bossy, even when he’s not in the driving seat. Maybe even more so than if he were, because if Katsuki were in Izuku’s position right now he wouldn’t be much for talking either.
“Yeah.” Ochako’s also not much for talking right now, and with Katsuki releasing the grip on her hair to trail a hot, explosively sweaty hand down her back, fingers splayed between her shoulder blades and following her movements rather than guiding in any way. She’s got this wrapped up all by herself, especially with the fingers of one hand diving down to the junction of her legs, where she keeps coming down against the iron washboard of Izuku’s stomach, adding stimulation that sends her even further into the abyss.
It makes her useless for anything except chasing her own pleasure, but that’s more than alright by Katsuki and Izuku; double the amount of hands on deck to grab at all those curves. Keep her guessing who’s who when her eyes close and Ochako’s just dashing for the finish line.
“Fuck… fuck.” Another little known fact is that Ochako’s mouth is dirtiest in these moments, and whether that’s something that developed because of Katsuki or merely as an unintended perk is unlikely to reach a satisfying conclusion. Unlike Ochako, who’s reaching her own satisfying conclusion (again) with one hand pressed between her legs, the other hanging onto Katsuki’s arm like she’s not going to make it without something, someone to hold onto, even with Izuku deep inside her hitting all the right spots.
Izuku’s just going with it, so when Katsuki suddenly announces, “Hey Deku,” even though Izuku’s pretty preoccupied already, like magnets his gaze snaps from the full-frontal image of Ochako bouncing up and down on his cock to Katsuki standing there with his own in his hand. “You wanna taste?”
“Whu…” Izuku starts with a solely unclear balance of generic sex-noises to genuine confusion, so it’s only when he follows up, “You mean?” There’s hardly much else Katsuki might be thinking about at this precise moment in time, but Izuku’s gotta ask.
“This mouth ain’t good for anything but making noise right now.” Katsuki pairs this line with a quick grasp of Ochako’s jaw, tilting her head up as he catches her by the chin and tilts her face up to his like he needs to get a good long look at the state she’s in right now: a picture he wants burned into his mind, the other hand back around the shaft of his cock again. Katsuki’s gaze returns to Izuku to deliver the very important and needs-to-be-acknowledged fact of: “And I fucked her first.” Of course he did.
Ochako hits a high point with a desperate noise and clench of Izuku’s cock so tight he lets out a startled sound of uncertain emotion, feeling Ochako come on him while he’s staring down Kacchan. Taking a deep breath as Ochako shudders off her second orgasm and slows, she comes to a stop as the next evolution comes to pass, though her fingers remain down south, rubbing herself languidly as she watches Izuku contemplate her boyfriend’s cock.
Izuku’s gaze rises to Katsuki’s face, shining with sincerity like the fire inside a paper lantern. “Are you sure, Kacchan?”
Katsuki’s face twists into a snarl that he stops from turning into an active scoff, pausing instead with a lip raised and a canine showing. A moment frozen and preserved before Katsuki shakes his head side to side in amusement as much as scorn. Like, how dare Deku ask him as if he could need the option out, or would ever want it. Turns the dagger of fear and uncertainty back the other way. “Are you sure?”
“Well yeah, but I-” Izuku stops when he hears himself admit so easily that he wants to suck Katsuki’s cock, like he’s surprised too. Ochako’s watching them in wide-eyed wonder, like she thought Katsuki was just drunk enough to lose his inhibitions, but would’ve never dreamed they’d include this bonanza interaction happening right in front of her.
With a slow roll of her hips, Ochako bends Izuku inside her. He makes an animal noise and his eyes wince closed for a second, gaze drawing away from Katsuki’s face and his cheeks a ruddy hot plate under a scattering of freckles.
Katsuki takes another step closer to Izuku, properly close, letting go of himself so his cock stands as practically close to Izuku’s mouth as he should ever need to be for nothing but this. “Just watch the teeth and you’ll be fine.”
Without more than a second’s pause after Katsuki finishes saying this, he makes a sound that could be used as a blade on a bandsaw; because Izuku pushes up on his elbows and runs his tongue from the base of Katsuki’s cock to the head like he’s getting a lick of a new kind of ice-pop, and Katsuki’s never been much for holding back emotive sounds. The grizzly noise he makes thereafter, as Izuku positions higher up on his elbows and puts himself in better place to do what Kacchan wants him to, can be easily taken to mean, ‘hurry the hell up, Deku.’
It probably helps that Izuku just got to study Ochako performing this act both as a spectator and recipient, no doubt with all neurons firing to commit every detail down to memory in his incredible information cache of a fanboy archive to the heroes he adores. Even the over-eighteens section, as unvisited as that little shelf in the back is compared to the rest of the library. So when Izuku wraps his mouth around Katsuki’s cock and just sees how much he can take until he gags, it’s only because he’s been observing some great talent at work.
“Ohh fuck,” shoots out of Katsuki like he’s been nailed in the stomach, and in an instant one of his hands comes up to tangle in Izuku’s hair. Not to steer him in any way, but just for the contact. The springy mop of Izuku’s hair presses around Katsuki’s palm like it’s going to get lost in there, and like that risk is too great – that if Kacchan lets himself get sucked into Deku so wholly, he might not ever get back out of that mire – he draws the touch back a moment later.
Katsuki holds the base of his cock like it needs any help getting or remaining in Izuku’s mouth. Actually, it could be said that Katsuki’s trying to evade that very purpose, pulling and pushing himself in every opposite direction against Izuku’s best efforts until he pops out of Izuku’s mouth to bounce sloppily against his cheek. Figures Katsuki was just waiting for a chance to slap Deku in the face with his cock.
Izuku’s face is creasing up with amusement, letting Katsuki try out the look of cock against Izuku’s freckles. “Seriously, Kacchan.”
“You’re like children,” Ochako observes from her comfortable position of being sat on Izuku’s cock watching him suck Katsuki’s – or not, if they won’t stop messing around.
“Never did this when we were kids,” Katsuki grunts as he stops playing and guides his head past the seal of Izuku’s lips, another delighted noise that reverberates from his chest more than his mouth. Deku takes him deep again and Katsuki lets slip another animal groan, easing him back when Izuku gags at the edge of his limit.
Ochako knows that sound – the one from Katsuki, that is – and when Izuku’s recovered she starts to rock on him steadily. They fall back into rhythm again. Katsuki seems frustrated that he can only stare at Ochako or Izuku's face one at a time when he wants to be watching both , resulting in a quick change from one sordid image to the other until he’s – this is Bakugo Katsuki, he always finishes first – gritting his teeth like he can crush the sound coming out of his mouth between them.
Katsuki’s hand wraps back around the base of his cock as he pulls free, pumping fast and staying only loosely centered to target as he comes more on than in Izuku’s mouth with a well-earned moan. Izuku looks a little alarmed by the whole thing, maybe just surprised at how long it didn’t take for Katsuki to come, even though he’s been edging from the moment Ochako started blowing him and it’s been every ounce of Katsuki’s iron-fist control to last as long as he has.
“Not bad for a first attempt,” Katsuki decrees as he thumbs a last drop off the tip of his cock, looking pretty fucking pleased with himself, all things considered.
Izuku’s ecstatic with the positive feedback, naturally, a smile lighting up his face that seems a little at odds with the cooling cum streaked over his chin. “Really?”
Katsuki scoffs, reaching for Izuku’s jaw to wipe up – or maybe just spread around – the messier part of his load. “Woulda thought that's obvious,” he practically chuckles, grabbing discarded All Might boxers off the floor to wipe his hands on before tossing them down on the couch next to Izuku. “Finish him and come to bed,” Katsuki announces as he raises his arms to stretch, rolling thick shoulders back and breaking into a yawn like he’s fulfilled his primal purpose and is ready to pass out, already walking away when he latches on an all-too-promising, “That’s both of you.”
Ochako watches Katsuki walk away and then turns her gaze down to Izuku under her – wiping his square jaw of Katsuki’s remaining come with his defaced All Might boxers. “Is that okay, do you want to carry on?”
Izuku nods so fast he could be a bobble head. “But could we, uh,” Ochako just waits for him to get there, it’s not like they’ve got any reason to hurry, “change positions?”
“Oh! Of course!” Ochako gets up eagerly, eliciting a surprised-but-not-in-a-bad-way noise from Izuku as the enclosing grip on him goes away. “Would you like to try being on top?”
Unsurely, Izuku answers, “Sure, how do I-?”
“Like this.” Ochako scooches down as Izuku sits up properly, spreading her legs and hooking her ankles behind Izuku as she coaxes him over her, those strong arms on either side of her, laced with gloves of scars that he tries not to add to and doesn’t always succeed. “You just do whatever feels good,” she says when he’s right over her.
“So, everything?” Izuku remarks like a joke that’s not ready to leave the nest yet, and Ochako laughs sweetly before pulling him into a kiss, and then back into her completely. He tastes a bit salty, no thanks to Katsuki, but Ochako kind of likes the tang as a reminder of their tagged-out third party. Izuku pushes back inside Ochako a lot closer this time, and even more intimate than it already was.
Izuku’s breath is warm on Ochako's neck, and slowly the space between them closes from not very much to nothing at all, pressed chest to chest as Izuku thrusts with instinct more than technique. If it works for him, it works for Ochako, who just keeps her arms locked tightly around Deku and hugs him as close as they've ever been, or might ever be again, depending on the success of this experiment. She has Katsuki and that's more than enough for any girl, but there’s a piece of her heart that's always been with Izuku. A heart that’s equal parts overwhelmed and desperate for more, to be this close to the boy she’s always adored.
Such that Ochako uses a gentle grip to guide Izuku’s face directly over hers and sink him into a once-in-a-lifetime, just-in-case-she-doesn’t-get-another-chance kiss. Like if she times it just right she's going to clip through the invisible wall and find herself standing in the daunting festival hall that's Izuku's heart.
Coherent sounds has never been a forte of Izuku’s at the best of times, much less when he's this emotional, which he is. Because sex with anyone else, for any old reason, wouldn't mean anything to him, but this means everything to him. A love that doesn't quite fit any of the easy boxes, but no one said love was easy in the first place. It's feeling beyond limitations, the plus ultra of emotional expression. This is just a way Izuku has never expressed it before; and not for much longer, if the tells of his biology are any indication.
Izuku pushes his chest a little further away from Ochako, just from the torso until he lifts far enough off her to be a perfect picture to watch as he thrusts faster into the accommodating pounding mat of Ochako’s generous thighs. “I think I… uhg-”
Because he’s still Deku, he seems unsure of it for a moment – like there’s a second where he has to question whether he deserves anything he wants. A sore nerve that still flinches every once in a while: to doubt he’s worthy of the good things that happen to him, not realising they happen because he’s worthy.
So Ochako feels an instinctive urge – and she’s feeling pretty primal right now – to just put her palm flat to Izuku’s chest, one finger crossed over the others to make sure she doesn’t put all five fingertips down and send him floating off to the ceiling just when he’s about to come – bad things will happen in that scenario. “It’s okay, Deku,” she reassures as she can actually feel the beat of his heart. “You can come.”
Maybe Ochako’s got great timing. Maybe Deku just needed to be told he could by someone he cares about deeply. Super deeply at that specific point in time. Either way, Izuku comes with another of those you’d-have-to-be-fucking-him to know it’s pleasure and not stubbing his toe on an anvil sounds. Like he’s over the edge of the cliff in a cartoon, Izuku’s caricatured legs still spinning for a moment before he shunts irregularly to a stop.
“Jesus, Deku!” Katsuki’s voice comes from the shadows of the bed with utter insolence and I’m-trying-to- sleep-rage. “Shut the fuck up!”
Ochako laughs first, and Deku gives a strangled yelp when she clenches down over sudden and immediate oversensitivity. The alcohol’s definitely burned off, but wow, what a rush.
Carefully, and with only a little confused whimper from Izuku who isn’t totally prepared for it to go from feeling so good to way too much that fast, Ochako guides his hips away from hers and instinctively pops a hand between her legs. She sits up in front of a kneeling Izuku who looks like he’s been pondering the philosophies of the world. As if he could have been sat in that position for hours, and not approximately two seconds after losing his virginity in an utterly spectacular fashion.
“You okay, Deku?” Ochako asks gently, and he looks up at her with a sudden blink, like he’s waking up.
“Yeah, I… yeah, I just,” Izuku stops halfway through, not looking particularly happy or sad, just getting all his processors back up to speed. “That all just happened.”
“Sure did.” Ochako swings her feet over the side of the sofa, glancing around before finding her discarded sweatpants and panties. “Crazy, huh?” She puts the underwear on, and leaves it at that.
“That’s one way to put it.” For someone who was so close to Ochako she literally felt him pulsing inside her moments ago, Izuku feels awfully far away right now.
“How would you, then?” Ochako tries not to give into fear, but the last time she tried anything even close to this with Izuku it backfired so badly it’s taken five years dating Bakugo Katsuki to bring these circumstances back around.
“I… interesting.” Izuku gets pensive, so Ochako reaches out for him, closes his hand in hers. He lets her, which she takes as a good sign. “It’s a lot to take in.”
“Why don’t we go to bed, huh?” she poses to him gently. “We can think about… all this … in the morning, okay?”
Izuku looks at Ochako like she’s all the assurance he needs in the world that things will be alright. “Okay.” His fingers squeeze around hers, and when Ochako stands Izuku stands with her, letting himself be led to the darkened bedroom. Ochako shuts off the rest of the lights on the way, until there’s just a heap of darkness that’s the shape of Katsuki in the bed, and a shadow behind her that’s Izuku in her hand.
“Bout time,” Katsuki growls equal parts drowsy to impatient, grabby hands and thick arms pushing the two of them around until he’s got Ochako completely tucked inside him like shells. Izuku settles uncertainly on the free side of the bed, then gets tugged down a moment later by an insistent Katsuki. A lax arm forms a bridge over Ochako for Katsuki to rest his palm against Izuku’s ribcage. As if he wants to be sure Deku will still be there even as he falls asleep.
Because Ochako’s got the funniest feeling they’re only just getting started.
This hunch is confirmed when Ochako wakes up an hour or so later with – yes, that’s definitely Katsuki – chewing on her neck and grinding into her ass before he’s even fully awake. Not that she minds: never has.
That leads to one thing, which inevitably leads to another, which then envelops a slow-waking but very-much-still-interested Izuku and becomes another thing entirely…
The next time after that, Ochako wakes from a post-coital slumber to the vague awareness that there’s something important going on she ought to be involved in – and she’s right.
The weighty form of Katsuki is pressed all on top of Izuku next to her, weighing down the mattress enough to almost feel like the combined pair have a gravity of their own, pulling Ochako in like a planet around a dual star.
Katsuki is literally laying on top of Izuku, and with whatever sleepy fumble that he started out with, now Katsuki’s simply kissing him senseless. Ochako couldn’t handle Katsuki’s full weight like that, but to Deku it’s nothing. Izuku is as strong underneath Katsuki as bedrock, not just accepting, but encouraging of the long-held tension Katsuki works out in a way that never made sense until now.
There’s a breathy break in the writhing mess that’s next to Ochako, yet his hoarse whisper sounds as if it could be spoken right into Ochako’s ear, rather than over Izuku’s kissed-swollen lips. “I’m sorry, Deku.” It’s not big, but it’s there. All that raw emotion, finally laid bare. “I’m sorry I-”
Izuku’s voice has such purity in the quiet: a warm, sincere force that comes in over Katsuki’s gently, like a still hand to stop restless ones. “I know, Kacchan.”
They kiss again. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime moment, both to observe and be a part of. Ochako’s about to go for both.
Naturally, that leads to another thing entirely too – Deku spoiled rotten is what Katsuki calls it, at least when he’s not busy sucking Izuku off while Ochako straddles his face; before dragging her hips back and using bedrock Izuku as a mattress to fuck her on. Izuku sure doesn’t mind, especially not after Kacchan’s just swallowed whatever load he has left by round three of the same night. They’re going to be sore in the morning: that much is for sure.
So by the time it is the morning, the weirdness is a little too familiar to be all that weird anymore. Instead it seems more like this inevitability has been a long time coming.