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Deku’s always the one to bring up trying new stuff.
The last time Katsuki suggested they attempt something different in bed, he stuttered and stammered his way through disjointed sentences for five minutes before admitting that he wanted to try edging. A surprised Deku proceeded to explain that since Katsuki was so embarrassed, he assumed he was going to suggest cock and ball torture. Katsuki made him sleep on the sofa for a week.
So, as usual, it’s Deku who brings up the idea of roleplaying.
“Kacchan,” he says, nonchalant, like he’s not about to drop a bomb. “Do you ever think of dressing up?”
Katsuki glances over. He’s slouched on the couch, a mug of tea tucked precariously between his crossed legs as he balances the latest issue of Shonen Jump on his knee. “What do you mean?”
“You know, like dressing up as a firefighter, or a doctor, or…” He pauses. “A student.”
“Fuck you.”
Deku panics. “Kacchan—"
“Don’t ‘Kacchan’ me, you fuckin’ pervert!” He slams the manga shut and hurls it at Deku’s head, who catches it just in time. If it hit the ground, Katsuki would have killed him. “I’m not dressing up as a schoolgirl for your sick fuckin’ fantasies!”
“I didn’t say you’d dress up as one!”
“Well, I sure as fuck don’t wanna see you in a skirt.”
Deku pouts. “No one has to wear a skirt. I’m just saying we could try roleplay—you could choose the scenario. It can be anything.”
Katsuki considers this. It’s not the worst idea Deku has had; last month, he sheepishly pressed a print-out into Katsuki’s hand that listed the best desserts for food play. It was pretty fun, actually, but after Katsuki had to clean sticky syrup out of every crevice in his body with a full bottle of shower gel, he put his foot down when it came to a repeat session.
He shuts down a lot of Deku’s ideas, so he figures he can humor his boyfriend this time, especially when the nerd’s looking at him with those big, hopeful eyes. “Fine. I guess we can roleplay or whatever.”
Deku beams and charges at him for a hug, and Katsuki kicks him away just in time to protect his tea. The movement jostles his mug anyway, sending scalding tea spilling over the edges and splashing over his thighs. He lets out a pained yelp, and panic flashes over Deku’s expression right before he grabs the mug and flings it away. It hits the ground hard and shatters.
Katsuki stares at the mess, then glares at a distressed Deku. This isn’t a great start.
Deku can barely contain his excitement. It took a while for them to agree on the scenario, but after a fair bit of arguing, they decided Katsuki would be a civilian and Deku would be the hero that rescues him. Katsuki fought like a wildcat but acquiesced once Deku promised to do the chores by himself for the next three weeks and to refer to him by Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight in public for the foreseeable future.
He gives himself a once-over in the mirror to ensure that his hero costume is in place—he hopes Hatsume never finds out what he’s using her lovingly crafted design for—and pushes open the bedroom door.
Katsuki is standing by the window, halfway through pushing it open. There’s a twisted blanket in his grip, wound into the loose shape of a braid.
Deku gapes at him. “What are you doing?”
He straightens up, giving Deku a haughty look. “I don’t need you, stupid Deku. I’m already escaping by myself.”
“Uh…” He tries to roll with it. “You don’t need to worry, because I’m here.”
He drops the blanket. “Fine.”
It’s weirdly anticlimactic. Deku waits for the obligatory thanks, but Katsuki just stares at him expectantly like he’s the one that’s supposed to say something; like he’s the weird one. “…You’re welcome?”
“You didn’t do anything,” Katsuki points out, and okay, he’s committing to this scenario far more than Deku expected him to. “I had to save myself.”
He blinks, deciding to attempt a different approach. “Uh…Well, policy dictates that I should give you a check-up to make sure you don’t have any injuries.”
“You can see if I have any injuries from there,” he counters.
“I should really check physically. You know, to be thorough.”
With an irritated huff, Katsuki holds out his arms straight, his posture stiff as Deku takes a tentative step forward. He sets his hands on Katsuki’s sides, palming at his ribs, then moves onto his chest.
He barely gets a few seconds to enjoy the plush feel of Katsuki’s pecs before Katsuki slaps his hand away with a glower. “I’m reporting you to your agency for sexual harassment.”
Deku loses it. “Damn it, Kacchan!”
The next attempt isn’t much more successful. Deku suggests he act as the civilian this time and Katsuki be the hero, to which Katsuki agrees more readily. So, he waits on the bed, wearing shorts without underwear and a loose shirt for easy access, just to make sure it goes off without a hitch this time. Still, Katsuki’s about as predictable as a tropical storm.
Katsuki storms in with his very-much-not-fake grenadier bracers on his arms, eyes blazing as if he’s about to fight a villain. “Where’s the villain?”
It takes Deku a moment to recover from the force of a riled up Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight glaring at him. “He—he ran away! But I think I have some injuries.”
He steps closer. “Show me.”
That’s more like it. Deku runs a sultry hand down his navel, letting his fingers dip into the waistband of his shorts. “Right here. It really hurts, Ka—Dynamight.”
“It’s Great Explosion—”
“Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight,” he finishes quickly. He musters his best attempt at a husky voice, though it comes out sounding like he spent the night screaming at a concert. “I might need you to carry me out.”
“Your legs work,” he dismisses. “I need to track down the villain.”
As Katsuki turns, Deku stammers, “W-wait! Aren’t you supposed to check my injuries to make sure there’s nothing fatal?”
He huffs, like he’s supposed to do his real job instead of taking the opportunity to feel up his boyfriend. “Come here.”
Deku complies, and Katsuki grabs his wrist, lifting his arm as if to inspect it for wounds. It seems needlessly thorough, but he’s playing along so Deku isn’t going to complain. Once his arms are declared uninjured, Katsuki yanks up his shirt to check his abdomen, eyes focused. Deku never thought someone looking at his bare body could feel so unsexy, but here they are.
“Looks okay,” Katsuki announces. “You’re cleared—now get the hell out of my way so I can find the villain.”
“Wait!”
His scowl intensifies. “What?”
Deku blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “I think my dick’s broken.”
Katsuki stops. Stares. “Your… what?”
He’s an idiot. Damn it—Katsuki isn’t going to let him live this down, ever. However, his very-much-working dick is getting hard at the sight of that furious look directed at him, so Deku powers through. “A boulder hit my dick.”
“The fuck do you want me to do about that?” Katsuki demands. “Do I look like a fuckin’ doctor to you?”
“You could check it,” he suggests. He knows this isn’t working out, but Katsuki looks so hot in his costume with his mask pushing his hair back from his forehead that Deku can’t help but try. “Make sure it’s… working.”
“That’s not my job.”
“Please, Ka—Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight. It really hurts. I bet your hand would make it feel better… or your mouth.”
He explodes. “I’ll get you arrested for sexually harassing a hero!”
Deku wants to fling himself out of the window. Too bad Float would save him.
Maybe it was a bad idea to bring their hero work into the bedroom. They need something unrelated, which leads Deku to his next idea. It takes a lot of cajoling to convince Katsuki to call him ‘Doctor Midoriya’, but he relents when Deku promises to pay for the next ten issues of Shonen Jump.
He knows it was a good decision when he walks into the living room to find Katsuki with his pants off, lying on his stomach on the collapsible medical examining table Deku bought. It looks more like a glorified ironing board, but that pales in comparison to the half-naked Kacchan bending his knee back in boredom, so he just tugs on a pair of latex gloves and slips the bottle of lube out of his pocket as he walks up beside the table.
“Welcome, Bakugou-san,” he says pleasantly. “I see you’re ready for your prostate exam.”
Katsuki wiggles his hips, and the motion goes straight to Deku’s cock. “Get on with it.”
Good decision. Good, good decision. Deku pours some lube onto his fingers, then uses his dry hand to nudge Katsuki’s asscheek aside to dribble some more straight onto his hole.
Katsuki yelps, aiming a swift kick to Deku’s ribs. “Oi, that’s cold!”
He easily dodges the kick. “Sorry. I’m going to start now—take a deep breath.”
“I’m not a fuckin’ amateur.”
“I can see that, Bakugou-san.” He slowly pushes a gloved finger inside, biting back a moan at the sight of Katsuki twitching around it. “Do you take a lot of things up your—”
“That’s inappropriate, Doctor.”
“Right! Sorry,” he stutters. He finally has his finger inside Katsuki, which is further than he’s gotten with any previous roleplays, so there’s no way he’s going to mess this up. He feels around inside until his fingertip meets a firm texture, then presses into it, relishing the little gasp Katsuki lets out.
Encouraged, he slides another finger inside. It’s easier from here; he knows how to pull those soft hitches of breath from Katsuki’s lips, how to make him squirm and rock his hips like he’s trying to pull away when he’s really resisting the urge to plead for more.
“Does it feel good, Bakugou-san?”
“It’s—it’s burning.”
He frowns. He’s fucked Katsuki with much less preparation and he never voiced any discomfort before. “I’ll use more lube.”
“No, it’s really bad. Shit, Deku—” He wriggles around, trying to kick a leg back to push Deku off. “It’s fuckin’ burning—”
Deku immediately pulls out and tugs his gloves off, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know!” He manages to sit upright, face blotchy and red, eyes scrunched up in pain. “It’s never hurt like this before, fuck, fuck—”
One visit to the emergency room later, it turns out Katsuki is allergic to latex. Deku breaks down sobbing and apologizing in the very confused doctor’s examination room while Katsuki screams at the nurses between swallowing antihistamine pills.
Apparently, none of the medical professionals present had ever seen such an immediate reaction to latex, which results in an entire army of medical students squeezing into the room to examine Katsuki’s symptoms—more specifically, his swollen ass. Deku glares at them, but the effect of it is lost when he’s hiccupping and choking back sobs.
As they head home, Deku demands, “Why didn’t you tell me you were allergic to latex?”
“I didn’t know,” Katsuki hisses. “It’s not like anyone shoved a glove up my ass before!”
“You must have had some sort of contact before! This can’t be the first time you—”
They bicker all the way home. Needless to say, today was a lost cause even if Katsuki weren’t under strict instruction not to have anal sex for at least twenty-four hours.
It takes a while before they try again. Hero costumes safely stowed away and all gloves thrown out of the house, Deku writes down a list of ideas and meekly submits it to Katsuki, who squints his eyes before pointing to maid/boss.
Deku has no objection. Getting on his knees and obeying Katsuki’s every command sounds like a dream, so he tugs on a suitable outfit and treks out to the living room, where Katsuki is sprawled over the sofa with a magazine in hand.
“Get me a Coke,” Katsuki tells him. “And the remote.”
Deku doesn’t protest, rushing to the kitchen to fetch him a cold can of Coke before handing him the remote.
“Good. The windows look dirty. Clean those.”
Deku gives him an odd look, but Katsuki doesn’t budge so he sighs and trudges to the storage closet to find a rag and window cleaning spray. He and Katsuki had spent fifteen minutes in the supermarket aisle arguing over whether to buy the lemon or the lime scent until an old lady walking past snapped at them to buy the lemon. Deku emerged victorious, but at a devastating cost; Katsuki refused to have sex with him for almost two weeks. The dry spell ended when Deku came home with an entire bag of fresh limes, which made Katsuki laugh so hard that he almost cried.
It’s a hot day, and the wind billows dusty heat straight into his face as he scrubs the surface of the glass until it shines, so clear that it can barely be seen at all. He puts the equipment away, then returns to the living room.
“All done,” Deku says with a short bow. “Is there any other way I can… serve you?”
Katsuki tilts his head to the side, appraising him. “Vacuum the house.”
He blinks. “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do for you?”
“There is,” he says casually. “But I wanna see you vacuum the house first. Make sure to mop the floors afterwards.”
He almost protests, but considering that their last attempt at roleplay ended with the inside of Katsuki’s ass doused in lava, in his words, Deku swallow his complaints and fetches the vacuum cleaner. Though it’s shameful to admit, something about cleaning the house under Katsuki’s command has a slow heat sparking in Deku’s gut. When Katsuki gives him a small smirk, his cock twitches, swelling hopefully in his boxers.
Once the house is spotless, Deku returns to the sofa with another quick bow. “Is there anything else I can do?”
“Yeah,” Katsuki agrees. “Wipe the counters.”
“…Nothing else?”
“Clean the oven.”
“Maybe something else?” he says desperately.
“Take out the trash.”
Deku can’t hold back. “I could suck you off.”
Katsuki laughs, spreading his legs just enough for Deku to make out the faint bulge in his pants. A little whimper slips past his lips. “I had no idea my servant wanted me that badly.”
“Please,” he begs. “Let me please you.”
“Fine. Show me how good you really are.”
Deku races forward but fails to remember that he just mopped the floors; his foot slips, sending him careening backwards. His head smashes against the hard tile with a painful thud that reverberates through his whole body, sending hot agony shooting down his spine.
He doesn’t remember much about the trip to the emergency room; only blinding pain and Katsuki’s arms around him, carrying his limp body to the hospital. All he can think of is how humiliating it would be if he received a serious brain injury and had to explain to the agency that it happened because he was too eager to play Katsuki’s obedient maid. If he's lucky, his brain might wipe this whole incident from his memory.
“You don’t have a concussion,” the doctor announces after a series of tests, setting down his clipboard. “However, you still took a hard hit. I would recommend avoiding strenuous activity for at least a week.”
Deku stirs, his vision fuzzy. The line between reality and his imagination distorts, blurring until right and wrong and real mix into a haze of colors. It’s beautiful. He’s horny. “Can I have sex?”
“Ignore him,” Katsuki says. “He has a concussion.”
The doctor frowns. “Actually, he doesn’t—”
“He’s about to get one.”
When they get home, Katsuki prepares the bed with a pile of soft pillows and helps Deku onto it, making sure his head is positioned comfortably. With all the painkillers they gave him at the hospital, Deku feels weak, his body like a floppy, threadbare ragdoll. The light makes Katsuki’s hair shimmer, soft and golden.
“Kacchan,” Deku slurs, trying to reach out to Katsuki. His arm does not cooperate. “You’re an angel.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He sits on the edge of the bed. “Don’t go to sleep. I’ll keep an eye on you.”
“You’re an angel… so pretty… want you.” He tries to sound alluring, but he’s pretty sure he sounds half-dead. Still, his dick gets the message across for him. “Kacchan. Need you.”
Something about his pitiful state must make Katsuki feel bad, because he agrees to give Deku a pity blowjob. He’s thirty seconds into it when Deku falls asleep.
He wakes to Katsuki’s infuriated yells. The sound reverberates through his aching skull like a the screech of a car crash. “I’m sorry, was I boring you?”
His voice doesn’t come out half as mortified as he feels. “I’m—I’m sorry. Couldn’t help it.” He manages to move his knee enough to gently nudge Katsuki’s cheek. “Don’t be angry. You’re so pretty.”
Katsuki huffs and leans up to press a surprisingly tender kiss to his mouth. Deku wants him so bad. He wants to kiss him and cuddle him. Why is he still horny? “Just rest, nerd.”
His heart yearns to hold Katsuki close and kiss his hair, but his dick takes precedence. “Sex tomorrow?”
“Rest,” he corrects. “Food, and plenty of fluids.”
“Can I drink Kacchan’s cu—”
Katsuki ends up calling the doctor to ask whether Deku has a brain injury after all.
Their next choice is safer: Deku as a massage therapist, and Katsuki his client. It’s barely a roleplay at all, but there are no injuries it can cause and given their track record, it seems better to opt for something as low risk as possible.
Deku puts effort into making sure their bedroom is as close to a massage parlor as possible, laying their most comfortable sheets over the bed and setting out scented candles, as well as playing soothing music from a portable speaker. He almost wants a massage himself, but Katsuki has had a lot of tiring patrols lately and Deku wants to help him relax. Getting laid is just a bonus. A bonus that had him unable to concentrate throughout his patrol today.
The door swings open and Katsuki walks in, dressed in a fluffy blue-and-yellow All Might bathrobe. He takes a glance at Deku’s hopeful face, then sighs. “Are you Midoriya?”
“That’s me,” he chirps. “I’ll be massaging you today. Is there anywhere you would like me to focus on?”
He rolls his shoulder, his expression twisting into a slight frown. “My shoulders. My back, too.”
“Anywhere else?”
“Nah.”
It had been optimistic to assume Katsuki would ask him to focus on something intimate. “Of course, Bakugou-san. Please undress and we can get started.”
Katsuki shrugs off the robe, revealing his naked body, and Deku practically salivates. The candlelight makes him look ethereal, shadows draping his muscular form while the shimmering orange glow of the flame casts a spotlight on his chiseled abdomen and his perfect pecs. He shoots Deku a judgmental look, but doesn’t comment on his open stares as he lays down on his stomach on the bed.
Deku climbs onto the bed after him, then pours some fragrant oil onto his hands and warms it between his palms before he presses them between Katsuki’s shoulder blades. He lets out a quiet moan and melts into the mattress when Deku digs his thumbs into a tight knot, so Deku focuses on that spot, rubbing the tension from Katsuki’s rock-hard shoulders.
The massage was supposed to be an excuse to fuck, but he had underestimated just how much tension was in his body. “You’re so tense. Doesn’t it hurt?”
Katsuki grunts. “I’m used to it.”
His character slips. Massage Therapist Midoriya probably shouldn’t be so invested in his client’s daily discomfort, but Deku is. “Seriously? Why didn’t you tell me?”
He throws a scowl over his shoulder. “’Cause you’re my massage therapist. Shut up and do your job.”
The idea of Katsuki battling his way through villain fights on patrol and doing all his chores as usual at home when his muscles were so sore from overuse makes his throat thicken. He's so upset that by the time he reaches Katsuki’s ass, he doesn’t even have sex on the mind anymore, instead concentrating on massaging the pain from Katsuki’s body.
Time drifts into a haze, muddled by the soft music and the candlelight. Katsuki’s skin feels amazing against his palms, warm and smooth. Deku loses track of how much time he spends massaging Katsuki with long, slow strokes, kneading his shoulders and his back before shifting down to press his thumb into the arch of Katsuki’s foot.
Katsuki’s breath hitches, a shiver running through his body. “Fuck, that’s good.”
Deku has to take a deep breath. He’s supposed to be helping Katsuki relax. This is absolutely not the time to arrive at the dread-inducing realization that the way Katsuki’s feet fit into his palms and his subtle squirming as the sensitive area is massaged is making his dick stir.
Tragically, when Katsuki turns onto his back and his eyes land on Deku’s tented pants, he arrives at that terrifying realization, too. “Deku.”
Deku swallows. “Yes?”
His voice is icy. “Are you getting off to my feet?”
He does the only thing he can think of. He scrambles off the bed and makes a run for it.
Thankfully, when he slinks home in the evening, Katsuki doesn’t mention it, plonking a plate of steaming hot katsudon onto the table with nothing except a casual remark that his shoulders feel much better. However, he does notice that Katsuki is wearing socks for once.
The massage wasn’t a total failure, Deku decides. Sure, he discovered a new level of embarrassment, but Katsuki enjoyed the massage, which was more important than anything. It even relaxed him enough that he let Deku cuddle him that night instead of kicking him away and complaining that Deku was far too warm and cuddly as he usually did.
Still, committing to a proper roleplay is hard when Katsuki seems determined to miss the point every time. Deku is in love with the man, but there’s only so much Kacchan he can take before he starts searching up sites where he can buy muzzles. A muzzle… that could work. Kacchan in a cute dog ear headband, and maybe a collar, or even those tail plugs—
“The fuck are you mumbling about?”
“Nothing,” Deku yelps. Not a smart idea to think about sex when he and Katsuki are having dinner, eating bowls of spicy ramen. He pauses. “Um… what do you think about p-pe—”
Katsuki raises an eyebrow. “Spit it out.”
He gives up. “Never mind.”
Just once more. They can try roleplay one last time, and if it doesn’t work out, he’ll accept that it wasn’t meant to be. He chooses something simple, and miraculously, Katsuki agrees, though that probably has something to do with the fact that Deku asked him while he was half-asleep. Deku will be a pizza delivery guy—young, hopeful, horny—and Katsuki will be the pro hero who offers to pay him with his body.
Deku takes a moment outside the door to pull himself together, cardboard box in hand, before he knocks on the door. “Delivery for Dyna—”
Katsuki opens the door with an exasperated expression. “It’s Great E—”
“Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight,” he corrects himself. “Sorry. Your pizza, sir. It’s 4000 yen.”
To his surprise, Katsuki pulls out his wallet, fishing out a few bills. “Here.”
“Um, sorry. I meant to say it’s 6000 yen.”
“I’ve got that.”
“It’s 10,000 yen,” he declares confidently. “No, 20,000.”
“I’ve got the fuckin’ money,” Katsuki insists, as if Deku’s a real pizza delivery guy and not his long-suffering partner.
Deku doesn’t give up. He can’t quit, not when he’s come this far. “I’m afraid it’ll cost something other than money, Dyna—”
“It’s Great Exp—”
“Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight!” He exhales, mustering his patience. Clearly, he needs to be more direct. “You could pay me with… a favor.”
“What kind of favor?”
For the first time, he understands why people call Katsuki annoying. “Let me fuck you.”
He gives him an impenetrable stare. “Sexual extortion is illegal.”
Deku hurls the cardboard box at the ground. “Damn it, Kacchan!”
With his fantasies cruelly ripped away, Deku resigns himself to reality. He’s lucky to be sleeping with Bakugou Katsuki at all—anything more would be flying too close to the sun.
A useful distraction arrives in the form of an offer from Principal Nezu to teach a third-year class at U.A. for one day. He considers wearing his hero costume like most of his teachers did, but in the end, he decides on a crisp suit like All Might often wore while teaching them.
Though he’s been a pro hero for years, walking into U.A. makes him feel like a scared teenager again, struggling to adapt to a quirk too powerful for his body. Thankfully, the class goes well. The students listen to him and ask plenty of interesting questions, and even if they’re a little snarky, being in a relationship with Katsuki makes him more than equipped to deal with that. By the time the day is over, he feels tired yet satisfied.
“Kacchan, I’m home,” he calls as he steps out of his shoes. He had left the house before Katsuki woke up, so he spent the day mourning the loss of his usual good morning kiss.
There’s a skidding noise from around the corner, and Katsuki trudges into view. He opens his mouth to say something, then freezes, eyes locked on Deku. “What are you wearing?”
“This?” Deku glances down at his outfit. A white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black pants, and a neat tie. Nothing that unusual. “I had that class at U.A today, and I figured a suit looks more teacher-like—do I look bad?”
“…Fuck.”
“What? Is something wrong? Do I really look that terrible?” He’s starting to panic. “I was wearing this all day, if there’s something wrong—”
“There isn’t.” He swallows, hard. “You look good… Sensei.”
His jaw drops open. “Huh?”
Slowly, he stalks closer until he’s close enough to run his fingertips up Deku’s exposed forearms, sending warm shivers up his spine. “I said you look good. But I’ve been bad.”
Deku feels lightheaded. “You… Kacchan…”
His voice is breathy as he grabs Deku’s tie and tugs him closer until their lips almost meet. “Is that how you address your student?”
“B—Bakugou-kun.”
“That’s right.” His scarlet eyes are magnetic, alive with a wicked glint. “What do you do with bad students, Sensei?”
Deku might be about to pass out, but he’s not an idiot. “I p-punish them.”
His lips brush the shell of Deku’s ear. “So, then. Punish me.”
Later, Katsuki yawns and stretches out in bed, making himself comfortable, while Deku tries to calm down his rapid breathing and the dumb, helpless smile on his face. The sheets are crumpled and torn, not to mention damp with unspeakable fluids, but he can’t bring himself to care. This is possibly the best day of his life.
Once he manages to calm his heart back to a normal pace, he rolls onto his side to look at Katsuki, whose face is still flushed a deep red, his mussed hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. It’s so sexy that Deku has to close his eyes and count to ten to get a grip on himself.
“I didn’t know you had a thing for teachers,” Deku says, as casually as he can.
He shrugs. “Neither did I.”
“Is it all teachers, or…”
“You just looked fuckin’ hot, Deku. Stop questioning it.”
A horrible thought occurs to him. “Oh, god. Did you find Aizawa hot, too? Or—All Might?”
Katsuki throws a pillow at his face.