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The late afternoon light bled through the curtains, cutting long amber stripes across the bed where Katsuki Bakugo lay sprawled, one arm thrown over his eyes. Sweat cooled on his skin. His breath had finally stopped coming in ragged pulls. Beside him, Izuku Midoriya traced idle patterns on his hipbone with a thumb, gentle, unhurried, maddeningly tender.
Katsuki’s mind, however, refused to still.
His cock is perfect.
The thought surfaced unbidden, the way it always did when his body was still humming from being thoroughly fucked. Not that he’d ever say it out loud. He’d bite his own tongue off first. But the truth sat in his chest like a stone in warm water, undeniable and heavy.
Izuku’s erection was hard in a way that felt deliberate—curved just enough to drag against every spot inside him that made his vision white out. Not too big. Not too small. Katsuki had taken bigger, once, back when he was young and stupid and trying to prove something. That had been a logistical nightmare, half the night spent trying to make it work and the other half sore in ways that weren’t satisfying. And smaller? Smaller left him chasing a fullness that never arrived, grinding down on something that couldn’t reach the place he needed it to.
Izuku’s cock was the exact size of yes.
Katsuki shifted, pressing his thighs together. The motion drew a quiet hum from Izuku.
"You okay?"
"Fine, Katsuki muttered. Don’t stop the damn spa treatment."
Izuku laughed, soft and low. His thumb kept moving.
Katsuki let his mind drift back to twenty minutes ago.
Izuku’s cock sliding down his throat, the weight of it on his tongue, the way his jaw had stretched just enough to accommodate but not so much that it ached wrong. He could take Izuku to the base without gagging, and that meant he could hold him there, could feel the pulse against the roof of his mouth, could swallow around him and listen to the broken sounds Izuku tried to muffle.
Just big enough to choke me the way I need.
But the thought that really undid him, the one that circled back every time, was the memory of Izuku inside his ass while a dildo filled his cunt simultaneously. That had been two nights ago. Katsuki’s fingers twitched against the bed just remembering it.
Izuku had started slow, he always started slow, the considerate bastard—working the dildo in first, letting Katsuki adjust to the stretch. It was silicone, cool at first, warming fast. Average length but decent girth. Enough to make him feel it. Then Izuku had pushed his cock into Katsuki’s ass, and the world had narrowed to a pinprick of sensation.
Two points of fullness. Two kinds of pressure. The dildo sat deep and motionless in his cunt while Izuku’s cock moved in his ass, and Katsuki had lost the ability to form words entirely. Just sounds. Guttural, embarrassing sounds he’d never let anyone else hear.
And when Izuku got close —when his rhythm stuttered and his grip on Katsuki’s hips turned bruising—he pulled out of Katsuki’s ass and finished inside him instead, spilling into his cunt while the dildo stayed put. Katsuki had felt the heat of it, the pulse, the wet rush joining the silicone that still stretched him open. His own orgasm had hit so hard he’d blacked out for a second.
"I can hear you thinking," Izuku said now, his voice pulling Katsuki back to the present.
"No you can’t."
"Your leg is twitching."
Katsuki yanked his leg still. "Shut up."
But Izuku propped himself up on an elbow, green eyes scanning Katsuki’s face with that particular intensity he brought to everything, battle, sex, breakfast. It was unnerving and infuriating and the reason Katsuki kept coming back.
"Talk to me", Izuku said quietly.
Katsuki stared at the ceiling. A crack ran through the plaster near the light fixture, thin and branching like a river delta. He’d traced it a hundred times while Izuku slept beside him, trying to sort through the knot in his chest.
The point was this: Izuku never complained. Not once. He gave and gave—orgasms that left Katsuki shaking, positions that made his toes curl, aftercare so thorough it bordered on worship— and never asked for anything in return. Katsuki sucked his cock because he wanted to, because the shape of it was a revelation, because the way it fit in his throat felt like a fucking privilege. But did Izuku feel that way about him? Did Katsuki’s body offer the same impossible perfection?
Doubtful.
His ass was good. He knew that. Tight, responsive, trained from years of working himself open on toys before Izuku ever touched him. His cunt got wet enough to soak the sheets. He could ride like his life depended on it, could take a pounding in any position, could swallow and take it in the ass and beg for more without a shred of shame.
But was it special?
"You ever think about it? "Katsuki asked, the words escaping before he could cage them.
"Think about what?"
"The rest of my question, obviously. Don’t play dumb."
Izuku’s thumb stopped moving. Katsuki felt the absence of it like a dropped note in a song.
"I think about a lot of things", Izuku said carefully. "You’ll have to be more specific."
Katsuki’s jaw tightened. Vulnerability tasted like copper in his mouth, metallic and wrong. But the thought had been festering for weeks now, and if he didn’t lance it, it would poison everything.
"If I’m enough. If I’m…" He gestured vaguely at his own body, the sweat-sheened planes of his stomach, the pale thighs still marked with Izuku’s fingerprints. "If this does it for you. Or if you’re just being polite."
The silence stretched.
Then Izuku laughed— not mocking, but genuinely surprised, his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline.
"Kacchan. Kacchan. Are you serious?"
"Don’t fucking laugh at me"
"I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at the idea that I could be anything other than completely gone on you."
Izuku shifted, swinging a leg over Katsuki’s hips and settling his weight there. Katsuki’s hands found Izuku’s thighs automatically, gripping the solid muscle.
"Let me be extremely clear", Izuku said, his voice dropping into a register that made Katsuki’s stomach tighten. "Your body is the most responsive thing I’ve ever touched. You make sounds you don’t even realize you’re making. You clench around me like you’re trying to keep me inside you forever. The other night, when I had you on your hands and knees."He leaned closer, lips grazing Katsuki’s ear "I almost came just from watching you take the dildo. Before I even got inside you. Do you understand that?"
Katsuki’s throat clicked as he swallowed.
"Words, Kacchan."
"Yes," Katsuki breathed.
"Good. Now stop pretending you’re not the best —and only now forever—lay of my entire existence."
Izuku sat back, and Katsuki’s eyes dropped to where their bodies met. Izuku was half-hard again, his cock resting against the curve of Katsuki’s stomach. Even soft, it had a heft to it. The balls hung full and heavy, and Katsuki’s mind snagged on a detail he’d catalogued obsessively.
When they fucked in doggy—whether it was his ass or his cunt—Izuku’s balls swung forward with every thrust and tapped against Katsuki’s clit. Not hard enough to hurt. Just a glancing contact, rhythmic and maddening, a secondary beat underneath the main event. The first time it had happened, Katsuki had come so fast it was embarrassing. Now it was the thing he craved most: that tiny, incidental friction, the way Izuku’s body was arranged by some cosmic joke to hit him in every possible place at once.
Even his balls are perfect for me.
"What are you thinking about now?" Izuku asked, and there was a knowing edge to it.
"Nothing."
"Liar. Your eyes glazed over."
Katsuki bared his teeth. "You want to know so bad? I’m thinking about your balls."
Izuku blinked. "My… balls."
"How they slap my clit when you’re behind me. How your whole fucking anatomy is designed to wreck me specifically. How it’s infuriating that you walk around with this perfect cock and these perfect"
Izuku kissed him. Hard. The kind of kiss that was less about tenderness and more about shutting him up, and Katsuki met it with equal ferocity, biting at Izuku’s lower lip until he tasted copper.
"You...", Izuku said against his mouth, "are unbelievable."
"I’m right."
"You’re also mine. And if you need proof that I enjoy this—enjoy you— I’ll give it to you."
The promise landed low in Katsuki’s belly. His cunt clenched on nothing. He was still slick from earlier, still loose and tender, but arousal kindled fresh and urgent between his legs.
"What kind of proof?"
Izuku’s smile turned almost dangerous. "The kind where I don’t stop until you physically can’t come anymore. The kind where I take my time. The kind where you forget your own name."
"Bold words, nerd."
"You’ve never complained before."
No. He hadn’t. He’d never had reason to.
Izuku climbed off him and stood, crossing the room to the dresser. Katsuki watched him move—the shift of muscle under scarred skin, the easy confidence in his stride. Hero training had sculpted them both into weapons, but Izuku wore his strength differently. Less aggressive. More coiled.
Perfect. That’s what he is.
The thought sent a shiver down Katsuki’s spine.
Izuku returned with a familiar silicone toy—the same dildo from two nights ago, cleaned and waiting. He also carried a small bottle of lube, despite the fact that Katsuki was already wet. Preparation was one of Izuku’s things. He never cut corners.
"Turn over," Izuku said. Not a command. Not a request. Something in between.
Katsuki rolled onto his stomach, tucking a pillow under his hips. The position was vulnerable, ass up, face pressed into the bed, everything exposed. But vulnerability with Izuku had stopped feeling like weakness years ago.
The lube cap clicked open. Cold gel drizzled between his cheeks, and Katsuki hissed.
"Sorry. Should’ve warmed it."
"Just fucking touch me already."
A finger traced his rim—light, teasing. Katsuki pushed back against it.
"So impatient, Izuku murmured. I said I was taking my time."
The finger pressed in. Slow. Deliberate. One knuckle, then two. Katsuki’s body opened for it easily, muscle memory from countless nights exactly like this. A second finger joined the first, scissoring gently, and Katsuki’s breath came out in a shudder.
"You feel that?" Izuku asked. "That’s you. Hot and tight and perfect. Do you feel how you grip me?"
Katsuki couldn’t form words. He nodded against the pillow.
"I’ve never felt anything like it. Not with anyone. When I’m inside you, I have to concentrate so I don’t embarrass myself."
"Liar", Katsuki managed.
"I’m not lying." He curled his fingers, finding the spot that made Katsuki’s hips jerk. "See? Right there. You react like no one I’ve ever touched."
The fingers withdrew.
Katsuki whined, an actual whine, high and needy, before he could stop himself.
The dildo replaced them. Cold silicone, thicker than Izuku’s fingers, pressing insistently at his entrance. Izuku worked it in slowly, pausing every inch to let Katsuki adjust, until it was seated fully inside his ass.
"Good?"
"Yeah," Katsuki breathed.
"Good. Now the other one."
The shift in position was necessary —Katsuki rising to hands and knees, the dildo staying in place thanks to its flared base. Izuku moved behind him, and Katsuki felt the blunt head of Izuku’s cock pressing at the entrance of his cunt.
"Ready?"
"Always."
Izuku pushed in.
The sensation was immediate and overwhelming. The dildo in his ass created a pressure that made every nerve ending sing. Izuku’s cock in his cunt stretched him differently—hotter, more intimate,— the pulse of Izuku’s heartbeat traveling through flesh instead of silicone. Together, they filled him completely.
"Oh fuck," Katsuki gasped.
"Good?"
"Stop asking if I’m good and fucking move."
Izuku laughed. Then he moved.
The rhythm he set was devastating"long, deep strokes that bottomed out with every thrust. The dildo shifted inside Katsuki’s ass with the motion, and Izuku’s balls"those perfect, heavy balls"slapped against his clit in counterpoint. A trifecta of sensation. Katsuki’s arms buckled, his chest dropping to the bed while his hips stayed raised.
"There you go, Izuku said, his voice strained." Take it.
For who, —Katsuki thought distantly,— am I such a slut?
The answer came with the next thrust.
For Izuku.
Always for Izuku.
For the way Izuku’s hands gripped his waist. For the way Izuku’s breath hitched when Katsuki clenched around him. For the way Izuku’s cock was the exact size of belonging.
Katsuki’s first orgasm built without warning. One moment he was chasing the sensation, the next he was tipping over the edge, his pussy convulsing around Izuku’s cock, his ass clenching on the dildo, a cry tearing from his throat.
"That’s one", Izuku said, and kept moving.
"I can’t-"
"You can."
The overstimulation was brutal. Izuku’s pace didn’t falter, and Katsuki’s body, still spasming through the aftershocks, was dragged immediately toward another peak.
"I want to feel you," Izuku murmured, leaning over Katsuki’s back. His lips brushed the nape of Katsuki’s neck. "Every time you come, you get tighter. It’s incredible."
Katsuki sobbed. Actual tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, soaking into the pillow.
The second orgasm hit before the first had fully faded. It rolled through him like thunder—deeper, more diffuse, leaving his entire lower body trembling. Izuku groaned, his rhythm stuttering.
"That’s two."
"Izuku-"
"One more."
Katsuki shook his head frantically. He couldn’t. There was nothing left.
Izuku’s hand slid around to find Katsuki’s clit, fingers circling the oversensitive nub with relentless precision.
"One more, Kacchan. For me."
The words undid him. Not the stimulation —though that was part of it— but the command wrapped in a plea. Izuku asking for something only Katsuki could give.
The orgasm was almost painful. Katsuki’s vision went white, his whole body locking up before dissolving into helpless shudders. He was vaguely aware of Izuku pulling out of his cunt, of the dildo being eased from his ass, of warmth splashing across his lower back as Izuku finished with a guttural groan.
Then nothing. Just floating.
He came back in fragments. The bed beneath him. A damp cloth cleaning his skin. Izuku’s voice, low and steady, saying words he couldn’t parse yet. A glass of water pressed to his lips.
"Drink. Slowly."
Katsuki drank. The water was cool. His throat ached—he’d been screaming, maybe. He couldn’t remember.
"You with me?"
He blinked. Izuku’s face swam into focus, green eyes creased with concern.
"Yeah, Katsuki rasped."
"That was a lot. You did so well."
Normally Katsuki would snap at the praise, but his brain wasn’t online enough for aggression. He just nodded, letting Izuku arrange him against a pile of pillows, letting Izuku pull a blanket over his still-trembling body.
"Your thighs are still shaking." Izuku observed.
"Can’t feel my legs."
Izuku’s palm pressed flat against Katsuki’s stomach, grounding. "Give it a few minutes. You’ll come back."
Katsuki’s eyes drifted closed. The residual pleasure was a low hum in his nerves, a buzzing that refused to fade. His cunt still pulsed faintly, echoes of orgasms past. His ass felt empty in a way that was almost lonely.
But mostly he was thinking —through the haze, through the exhaustion— about Izuku’s cock. The curve of it. The weight of it in his throat. The way it felt when Izuku bottomed out inside him.
Even now, he thought, half-delirious, I want it again.
His hand moved before he could stop it, reaching for Izuku’s softening length.
Izuku caught his wrist.
"Kacchan. You just had another orgasm."
"Don’t care."
"You can’t even sit up."
"Don’t need to sit up to suck your cock."
Izuku’s eyes darkened. The green haired facade flickered, replaced by something hungrier.
"You’re insatiable Kacchan."
"You made me this way," Katsuki said, and the words were almost accusatory. "Your fault. With your perfect fucking dick."
Izuku let go of his wrist.
"Then take it."
Katsuki’s lips curved into a smile —weak but genuine—as he slid down the bed, mouth already opening. His body protested the movement, muscles trembling from overuse, but the hunger in his gut overrode the exhaustion.
He needed this. Needed to taste Izuku again, to feel that perfect weight on his tongue, to prove, even now, wrecked and spent, that he could still take it.
Izuku’s cock was half-hard, flushed and leaking against his stomach. Katsuki didn’t waste time. He licked a slow stripe from base to tip, savoring the salt-bitter precome, the way Izuku’s breath hitched above him. Good. He wanted those reactions. Wanted to reduce Izuku to the same shuddering mess he’d just been.
He took the head into his mouth, sucking gently, relishing the twitch against his tongue. Izuku’s fingers tangled in his hair—not guiding, just holding, like he was afraid Katsuki might vanish. As if Katsuki would ever walk away from this. From him.
Mine, Katsuki thought, hollowing his cheeks as he took more, the stretch familiar and perfect. Izuku’s hips jerked, a choked noise escaping him, and Katsuki moaned around the cock in his throat. The vibration drew another broken sound, and Katsuki’s own spent body throbbed in answer, heat pooling uselessly between his legs. He couldn’t come again, but god, he could try.
Izuku tugged his hair. "K-Kacchan- you’re- fuck"
Katsuki pulled off just enough to smirk, lips slick and swollen. "That’s the idea, nerd." His voice was wrecked, raw from earlier screams, but the challenge in it was unmistakable. Then he swallowed Izuku back down, deeper this time, until his nose pressed into the wiry curls at Izuku’s base. Perfect fit. Always.
The groan that ripped from Izuku’s throat was half-pained, like he was being torn apart. His fingers tightened in Katsuki’s hair—not pushing, not pulling, just holding— as if he needed an anchor to keep from unraveling completely. Katsuki reveled in it, in the way Izuku’s thighs trembled against his shoulders, in the choked-off curse that followed when he hollowed his cheeks and sucked just right. "F-fuck, Kacchan" Izuku’s hips jerked involuntarily, his cock hitting the back of Katsuki’s throat, and Katsuki let his eyes roll shut, savoring the stretch, the weight, the way Izuku’s breathing turned ragged above him.
He slowed his pace, dragging his lips up until only the head remained between them, then letting Izuku’s cock slide back in with torturous slowness. He traced the vein on the underside with his tongue, teased the slit with the tip, licked away the bitter-salt precome leaking from it. Izuku’s grip on his hair was near-painful now, his control fraying at the edges. "You’re— god, you’re gonna kill me..."
Katsuki answered by taking him deep again, letting Izuku’s cock push past the resistance in his throat until tears pricked his lashes. The ache was delicious, the burn even better. He could feel Izuku fighting not to thrust up, not to chase his own pleasure, and the restraint made Katsuki’s own spent body twitch with phantom desire.
"Look at me," Izuku gritted out suddenly.
Katsuki obeyed, dragging his gaze up, blinking through wet lashes, to meet Izuku’s blown-wide pupils. The raw hunger there sent a shiver down his spine.
"That’s it", Izuku murmured, fingers gentling slightly in Katsuki’s hair. "Just like that. Taking me so fucking perfect..."
Katsuki moaned around him, the vibration wringing another broken sound from Izuku’s chest. The taste of salt and musk flooded his tongue as he hollowed his cheeks, sucking harder just to hear that desperate hitch in Izuku’s breathing again. Every twitch of Izuku’s cock against his palate sent sparks down his spine, even now, exhausted and oversensitive, his body responded like it had been wired specifically for this. For him.
And like this, with their eyes locked, with Izuku’s cock buried in his throat, Katsuki thought—one last, delirious thought before drowning in sensation— that there was nowhere else in the world he was supposed to be. Izuku’s green eyes were dark with want, pupils blown so wide they nearly swallowed the color whole. His lips parted around panting breaths, his free hand fisting in the sheets like he was holding himself back from fucking Katsuki’s face raw. The restraint was almost worse than surrender. Katsuki could feel the tension coiled in Izuku’s thighs where they bracketed his shoulders, the way his hips jerked in tiny, aborted thrusts, like he was teetering on the edge of control but refusing to fall.
"You’re— fuck" Izuku choked out, fingers tightening in Katsuki’s hair until the sting bordered on pain. "You take me so good, Kacchan, like you were made for it.
The words seared through Katsuki’s haze. He redoubled his efforts, bobbing his head faster now, letting saliva drip messily down his chin as he worked Izuku’s length. He wanted to brand this moment into his skin—the heat of Izuku’s cock stretching his lips, the ragged sounds above him, the way Izuku’s stomach muscles clenched as if he was fighting not to come apart. The ache in his jaw, the burn in his throat, the rightness of it all— proof that Izuku fit him in every way that mattered.
Izuku’s hips bucked once, twice, before he suddenly yanked Katsuki off with a wet pop. "Wait" he gasped, chest heaving. "I want..." His grip shifted to cradle Katsuki’s face instead, thumb swiping over his swollen lips.
The tenderness in the gesture clashed violently with the hunger in his eyes. "Look at you."
Katsuki didn’t need to ask what Izuku saw. He could feel it—the flush crawling up his neck like wildfire, the tears clinging to his lashes not from pain but from the sheer rightness of being stretched so perfectly around Izuku’s cock. The obscene shine of spit on his chin, the way his lips clung wetly to Izuku’s length every time he pulled back for air. A wreck. Izuku’s wreck. And the knowledge of it burned hotter than any pride he’d ever swallowed.
Izuku’s thumb traced the swollen curve of his lower lip, smearing spit and precome in a slow, possessive drag.
"Look at you", he repeated, voice rough as gravel. Not just looking, memorizing. Every hitched breath, every flutter of Katsuki’s throat around him, every twitch of his fingers where they dug into Izuku’s thighs. Like he wanted to carve this moment into his bones.
And Katsuki—god, Katsuki let him. He tilted his head back further, baring his throat in silent surrender, and watched the way Izuku’s pupils swallowed the green of his irises whole. The grip in his hair gentled, just for a heartbeat, before Izuku guided him down again with a whispered, "Take it."
The stretch was exquisite. Katsuki moaned around the intrusion, the vibration wringing a ragged groan from Izuku’s chest. He could feel the exact moment Izuku’s control snapped —the way his hips jerked up to meet Katsuki’s mouth, the way his fingers tightened almost painfully in blond strands.
Perfect.
The salt-bitter taste of him, the heavy weight on his tongue, the way his nose pressed into wiry curls with every deep, claiming thrust.
This, Katsuki thought deliriously, is where I belong. Not just on his knees, but here, with Izuku’s cock fucking into his throat like he was made for it. With Izuku’s wrecked voice above him, his trembling thighs bracketing Katsuki’s shoulders, his breath coming in sharp, punched-out gasps. Every inch of him screaming mine, mine, mine without a single word.
And as Izuku came with a choked curse, as warmth flooded Katsuki’s throat and he swallowed greedily around the pulsing length, he knew —with bone-deep certainty— that no one else would ever fit him like this. Not his body. Not his soul. This was home.
-
Katsuki's throat was still raw when the idea took root.
Izuku had pulled him off again—gently, this time, with a murmured not yet that sent frustration prickling down Katsuki's spine. The nerd was still half-hard, still leaking, still looking at Katsuki like he wanted to devour him. But he'd eased Katsuki onto his back instead, pressing a water bottle into his hand with that infuriatingly patient expression.
"Drink."
Katsuki drank. His throat clicked with every swallow. Across the room, the light had shifted from amber to a deeper gold, the sun sinking toward the horizon outside their window.
"So". Izuku said, settling beside him on the bed, one hand tracing idle circles on Katsuki's hip. "You good?"
"Stop asking if I'm good." Katsuki's voice came out like gravel. "I'm not a fucking houseplant."
The laugh Izuku gave was quiet and warm. Unbothered. Like Katsuki hadn't just spent the last ten minutes trying to suck his soul out through his cock. The bastard was too composed. Too in control. Even after everything—after multiple of Katsuki's orgasms and one near-finish in his throat— Izuku still had that steady, watchful calm.
It made Katsuki want to shatter it.
The thought crystallized slowly. He'd been on his back. He'd been on his knees. He'd been face-down with his ass in the air. But he hadn't ridden Izuku tonight, hadn't climbed on top and taken what he wanted, set the pace, watched Izuku's composure crack from above.
He wanted that. Needed it.
The residual trembling in his thighs argued otherwise. His legs felt like they'd been replaced with overcooked noodles. His cunt still pulsed with phantom aftershocks, oversensitive and swollen. But the hunger gnawing at his gut didn't care about logistics.
"Hey." Katsuki pushed himself up on an elbow, ignoring the protest of his muscles. "I want to ride you."
Izuku's eyebrows rose. "Right now?"
"Did I stutter?"
"Kacchan, you just had an orgasm. You couldn't feel your legs ten minutes ago."
"And now I can." It was only half a lie. The numbness had faded into a dull, humming weakness. Manageable. Probably. "Unless you're too tired."
The challenge landed exactly where Katsuki intended. Izuku's expression flickered—a tightening around the eyes, a subtle shift in his jaw. The soft dom facade held, but underneath it, something competitive stirred. Katsuki had known Izuku since they were children. He knew exactly which buttons to press.
"I'm not tired," Izuku said carefully.
"Then let me."
A beat of silence. Izuku's thumb stilled on Katsuki's hip.
"Fine."The word came out lower than before, rougher. "But if your legs give out..."
"They won't."
"...I'm taking over."
Katsuki's stomach flipped. The promise in those words curled through him like smoke. Taking over. He knew what that meant. Knew the way Izuku's composure frayed when Katsuki pushed him too far, the way gentle handling could shift into something harder and more desperate.
He wanted both. Wanted to be in control and then lose it. Wanted to feel Izuku snap.
"Whatever," Katsuki said, and swung a leg over Izuku's hips.
The movement was shakier than he'd intended. His thigh muscles quivered as he settled his weight across Izuku's lap, knees bracketing narrow hips. Already his body was betraying him— the slight tremor in his calves, the way his core muscles protested holding him upright. He ignored all of it.
Izuku's cock lay half-hard against his stomach. Katsuki wrapped a hand around it, feeling the familiar weight, the heat of blood beneath velvet skin. He stroked once, twice, watching Izuku's lips part around a quiet breath.
"Already getting hard again." Katsuki muttered. "Insatiable bastard."
"Look who's talking."
Fair point. Katsuki didn't dignify it with a response.
He shifted forward, positioning himself. The head of Izuku's cock nudged against his entrance—still slick, still swollen from earlier—and Katsuki's breath caught. He was oversensitive. The lightest pressure sent sparks skittering up his spine, and he hadn't even taken Izuku inside yet.
"Slow", Izuku murmured, hands finding Katsuki's thighs.
"Don't tell me what to do."
But Katsuki went slow anyway. He couldn't have done otherwise. His body was too wrecked for fast, too tender for rough. The first inch of Izuku's cock pressed inside him, and Katsuki's vision blurred.
Fuck.
The stretch was everything. It always was. Izuku's cock filled him in a way that felt engineeredVthe curve hitting exactly right, the girth spreading him open without crossing into pain.— Katsuki's head fell forward, chin dropping to his chest as he sank lower, taking more, feeling every ridge and vein drag against his inner walls.
"Breathe," Izuku said, and his voice had lost its steadiness.
Katsuki sucked in air. His thighs were already burning. This was a terrible idea. He was going to collapse halfway through and Izuku would be insufferably smug about it.
He kept going anyway.
When his ass met Izuku's hips, when Izuku was seated fully inside him, Katsuki let out a sound that wasn't quite a moan. Something deeper. A release of tension he hadn't known he was holding.
"There." The word scraped out of him. "Told you I could."
"You're shaking,"Izuku pointed.
"Shut up."
But Katsuki couldn't deny it. The trembling had spread from his thighs to his whole body— a fine, constant vibration that he couldn't suppress. His hands found Izuku's chest for balance, palms flat against scarred pectorals, and the contact helped. Somewhat.
He rolled his hips experimentally.
The sensation was immediate and devastating. Izuku's cock shifted inside him, dragging against his spot, and Katsuki's arms nearly buckled. A whimper escaped before he could swallow it— high and needy, completely undignified.
"Fuck," he breathed.
Izuku's hands tightened on his thighs. "You okay?"
"I said fuck, not stop."
He rolled again. Found a rhythm. Slow circles with his hips that made Izuku's cock grind against every sensitive spot inside him. The oversensitivity was brutal —each movement sent lightning up his spine—but it was also addicting. His body couldn't decide if it wanted to flee from the sensation or chase more.
Katsuki's head tipped back. His eyes slid closed. The room narrowed to the point where their bodies joined, to the heat of Izuku inside him, to the small desperate sounds Izuku was making underneath him.
That's it. The thought surfaced through the haze. That's what I wanted.
Izuku's composure was cracking. His jaw was tight, his pupils blown wide. His hands kept shifting on Katsuki's thighs—gripping, releasing, gripping again—like he was fighting the urge to grab and thrust up. The restraint was visible in every line of his body.
"You're" Izuku's voice broke. "You're so tight like this."
"Yeah?" Katsuki rolled his hips again, slower this time, deliberate. "You like watching me?
"I like- fuck, Kacchan-"
The curse was gratifying. Katsuki did it again, lifting almost all the way off before sinking back down, and Izuku's hips jerked involuntarily. The thrust drove his cock deeper, punched a gasp out of Katsuki's chest.
"Sorry..." Izuku gritted out. "I didn't mean..."
"Do it again."
Green eyes snapped to his face. "What?"
"I said do it again. Fuck up into me."
The green haired expression flickered. For a moment, something hungrier looked out through Izuku's eyes"something less patient, less controlled. It made Katsuki's pussy clench.
"Zuku." He used the name deliberately, knowing it would land like a match on gasoline. "Fuck me."
Izuku's restraint snapped.
His hands clamped down on Katsuki's hips"hard enough to bruise, hard enough that Katsuki would feel the marks tomorrow"and he thrust up. Once. Sharp. The force of it drove Katsuki forward, his hands sliding on Izuku's chest, a cry ripping from his throat.
"That what you wanted?" Izuku's voice was different now. Lower. Less careful.
"Yes!"
Another thrust. Katsuki's legs gave out completely.
He collapsed forward, chest hitting Izuku's, and Izuku didn't stop. He kept fucking up into Katsuki with short, brutal strokes, his grip on Katsuki's hips keeping him in place. The change in angle made everything more intense"Izuku's cock hitting deeper, the drag of it relentless against oversensitive nerves.
"Look at you", Izuku said, and the words were almost a growl. "Couldn't even stay upright."
"Fuck you"
"You wanted to ride me. You wanted to be in control." A thrust, harder. Katsuki's vision whited out. "And now look. You can't even hold yourself up."
It was true. Katsuki was dead weight on Izuku's chest, completely at his mercy. His thighs wouldn't cooperate. His arms were useless. All he could do was take it—take the pounding rhythm Izuku set, take the words dropping from Izuku's lips like hot wax.
"This is what you really wanted." Izuku's mouth was at his ear now, breath hot and uneven. "Not to ride me. To be put in your place."
Katsuki sobbed. The sound was wet and broken and he couldn't stop it.
"Say it."
"No..."
Izuku slowed. His thrusts became shallow, barely there, and Katsuki nearly screamed in frustration. He was so close. He hadn't even realized he'd been climbing toward another orgasm, but the retreat made him aware of it, the desperate clench of his body, the pulse in his clit, the way every nerve ending was screaming for more.
"Say it Kacchan", Izuku repeated.
Katsuki's pride warred with his need. Pride lost.
"Wanted you to take over." The words came out in a rush, half-muffled against Izuku's shoulder. "Wanted you to" to stop being gentle. To just"
"Just what?"
"Use me."
The word hung in the air between them. Katsuki's face burned with the admission, but he couldn't take it back. Didn't want to.
Izuku's rhythm returned with punishing intensity.
"Good boy", he breathed, and Katsuki's mind went blank.
The praise seared through him. He was nothing but sensation now—the cock driving into him, the hands gripping his hips, the voice in his ear saying things he couldn't process anymore. His orgasm built like a wave he couldn't see the crest of, just an endless climb with no peak in sight.
"I'm..."He couldn't finish. Couldn't find words.
"I know."Izuku's pace didn't falter. "Let go. I've got you."
Kacchan shattered.
The orgasm rolled through him in pulses —longer and deeper than the others, wringing him out until there was nothing left. His cunt clamped down on Izuku's cock, rippling, and somewhere distant he heard himself making sounds. Crying, maybe. Saying Izuku's name. He couldn't tell anymore.
Through it all, Izuku kept moving. The overstimulation was excruciating. Katsuki's body tried to squirm away, but Izuku's grip held him in place, and the friction of Izuku's cock inside his still-spasming cunt bordered on unbearable.
"One more," Izuku said, and Katsuki shook his head frantically.
"Can't can't can't-"
"You can." A hand left Katsuki's hip to find his clit. The touch was feather-light, barely there, but on his oversensitive flesh it felt like an electric shock. "One more for me."
"Why "
"Because I said so."
The words were gentle. The tone wasn't. It was the voice Izuku used in battle— calm, decisive, leaving no room for argument. Katsuki's body responded before his brain could catch up.
The fourth orgasm wasn't a wave. It was a detonation.
Pain and pleasure blurred together until Katsuki couldn't distinguish them. His vision went white. His hearing dimmed. Somewhere far away, Izuku was groaning—a long, broken sound—and there was warmth flooding inside him, and then nothing.
Just nothing.
Drifting.
-
He surfaced to the feeling of being lifted.
No, not lifted. Moved. Repositioned. The bed was soft beneath him, and someone was arranging pillows around his body with careful precision. A damp cloth passed over his stomach, his thighs, between his legs. The touch was impossibly gentle.
"...can you hear me?"
The voice came through layers of cotton. Katsuki tried to respond, but his mouth wouldn't form words.
"That's okay. Take your time."
The cloth disappeared. A blanket settled over him, soft and warm. Then pressure at his back"a body curling around him, an arm draping over his waist, lips pressing to the nape of his neck.
"I've got you."
Katsuki's brain was static. Thoughts formed and dissolved before he could catch them. The only thing that remained was a single, persistent observation, looping through the fog like a melody he couldn't shake.
His cock is perfect.
Even now. Even wrecked beyond speech. Even with his body feeling like it had been taken apart and put back together wrong. The thought persisted. The curve. The weight. The way Izuku had filled him and broken him and pieced him back together with nothing but his voice and his hands and his perfect fucking cock.
"You're thinking again", Izuku murmured against his neck.
Katsuki managed a grunt.
"About what?"
Another grunt. Less coherent.
Izuku laughed, soft and warm. "Let me guess. My dick."
Katsuki's face heated. He was grateful his back was to Izuku, hiding the flush.
"It's okay." The arm around his waist tightened fractionally. "I think about you too."
That was absurd. But the way Izuku said it, like it was a confession, like Katsuki's body was something to be revered...
"You're everything". Izuku continued, his voice dropping. "Every inch of you. The way you sound. The way you taste. The way you let go for me." A kiss, pressed to the curve of Katsuki's shoulder. "I've never had this with anyone. Never even came close."
Katsuki's throat tightened.
"I know you don't believe me sometimes." Izuku's thumb traced circles on his hip, the same gentle motion from earlier. The continuity of it—the way Izuku kept touching him the same way, before and after— made something crack open in Katsuki's chest. "I know you think you're not enough. But Kacchan..." A pause. A breath. "You're more than enough. You're everything I never knew I wanted."
"Shut up." Katsuki croaked.
The words had no bite. They came out ruined and raw, closer to a plea than a command. Izuku seemed to understand, because he didn't argue. Just held tighter, pressed closer, let his body say what Katsuki couldn't handle hearing.
The static in Katsuki's brain was clearing now. Sensation returned in increments—the ache in his thighs, the soreness between his legs, the pleasant burn of muscles well-used. And beneath all of it, the lingering hum of pleasure. Residual, diffuse, like a glow just under his skin.
He still couldn't think straight. The orgasms had hollowed him out, left nothing but sensation and instinct and the bone-deep knowledge that Izuku was wrapped around him.
"Water," Izuku said, and a glass appeared at his lips.
Katsuki drank. Cool relief slid down his abused throat.
"Good?"
A nod. Words were still too much effort.
Izuku set the glass aside and settled back behind him. The room was dark now, the last amber light faded to dusk. Somewhere outside, a bird called— one last note before night descended.
"Can I ask you something?" Izuku's voice was hesitant now, the commanding edge completely gone.
Katsuki grunted.
"When you said 'use me'." The words came slowly, carefully. "Was that just in the moment? Or is that something you want more often?"
Katsuki's stomach clenched. The question was too vulnerable, too tender. He didn't have the armor for it right now.
"Dunno," he managed.
"Okay."Izuku didn't push. Of course he didn't. "We don't have to figure it out tonight. I just wanted you to know" He paused, and Katsuki felt the slight tremor in the arm around his waist. "I wanted you to know I'd do anything for you. Anything you asked. You don't have to prove anything to me. You never did."
The crack in Katsuki's chest widened.
He turned. It took effort—his body screamed at the movement— but he turned, rolling in Izuku's arms until they were face to face. In the dim light, Izuku's eyes were dark and serious, his expression stripped of the soft dom certainty.
"You're an idiot,"Katsuki said.
"I know."
"A sappy, ridiculous idiot."
"I know that too."
Katsuki kissed him. It wasn't a good kisstheir mouths were clumsy, Katsuki's lips were swollen, and he had almost no coordination left. But it communicated what he couldn't say: I hear you. I'm trying to believe you. Don't stop.
When they broke apart, Izuku's smile was small and private.
"You should sleep,"he murmured.
"Not tired."
It was a lie. Katsuki's eyelids were already heavy, his body sinking into the bed like it wanted to merge with it. But the thought of sleeping—of losing this moment, this warmth, this impossible closeness—felt like a waste.
"I'll be here when you wake up."Izuku said it like a promise. "I'm always here."
Katsuki wanted to argue. Wanted to snap something sharp and defensive to protect the soft, bruised thing inside him. But he didn't have the energy. And maybe"maybe he didn't want to.
Instead, he closed his eyes.
The last thing he felt before sleep took him was Izuku's lips pressing to his forehead. The last thing he thought was the same thought that had been circling all night, all week, all the months since this thing between them started.
His cock is perfect.
And so, impossibly, was everything else