Work Text:
They’re having a sort of a staring contest. Katsuki hadn’t been informed about it, sure, but Izuku seems to have decided that they’re having an impromptu staring contest, and he’s not about to lose. Katsuki eyes him back with a fierce determination. A minute passes, and Katsuki’s eyes start watering.
“Alright, what the fuck?” Katsuki throws a pillow at him to get him to blink first, but Izuku just bats it out of the way casually. “Stop staring at me, weirdo!”
A moment of silence. The tick of the clock on the mantelpiece is suddenly very loud. Izuku finally snaps out of it, blinking at him in quiet contemplation. Then he says, voice completely flat, “get on the bed.”
Get on the what? Huh? Katsuki begins to seriously fear for his boyfriend’s mental capabilities. He knew those concussions would inevitably come back to bite them in the ass. “You good?” Katsuki asks, raising an eyebrow at him.
Izuku stares blankly at him. Right, something is very wrong.
“Did you get hit with something today?” Katsuki waves a hand in front of his face, but Izuku’s gaze never wavers. “Dude. You’re freaking me out.”
Izuku hums under his breath, then gets to his feet. He waits about a heartbeat, then starts to tap his foot on the floor expectantly, arms folding across his chest. Although he’s grown a bit and nearly, just nearly, beat Katsuki out in the height department, it’s more the bulk of him that cuts an imposing figure, his shoulders broad and shirt stretching across his toned chest.
“Get on the bed,” Izuku says again, in a very no-nonsense tone.
“No,” says Katsuki, looking at him suspiciously. “It’s the premiere of the thirty-second All Might documentary. You were the one who wanted to fucking watch this, now sit back down and quit your—” he gestures at Izuku. “Whatever this is.”
A deep, frustrated sigh. Katsuki has never heard him make this kind of sound before and it genuinely gives him the creeps, goosebumps appearing all along his skin. You know what, come to think of it all afternoon Izuku had not been like his usual self. He’d taken the last piece of French toast without asking, stolen the bag of chips that he knew Katsuki had been saving for the documentary premiere and left Katsuki to do all the laundry by himself.
Maybe he’d read a new self-help book on building confidence? Establishing Yourself as Alpha of the House For Dummies? How To Take Back Control?
“Kacchan,” he whines, now sounding a little bit more like himself. But there’s still an undercurrent of something dark to his words, and he sounds less petulant and more demanding. “Hurry up. Don’t make me ask twice.”
“You horny?” Katsuki squints at him. “During the All Might premiere?” A moment where he looks at him up and down, surveying him intensely. “Tell me something only the real Izuku would know.”
“Right, that’s it,” Izuku says, voice definitely hard as ice now, and crosses the room in two, wide strides. He picks Katsuki up with little effort and slings him bodily across his shoulder, before turning and marching out of the living room.
Stunned into silence, Katsuki hangs limply there with his mouth open, shocked beyond belief. Is this real life? Is this really happening to him? Izuku opens the door to the bedroom and then tosses Katsuki onto the bed, not really taking much care as to where he landed. He hits it hard, and Katsuki blurts out a, “what the fuck?”
Izuku makes a tsk-ing noise in the back of his throat. He pulls Katsuki by his ankles until he hits the edge of the bed, feet hanging limply off the side. Then he shrugs off his shirt.
Holy shit, Katsuki might have an aneurysm if this keeps going. He’s losing his mind. Izuku is taking the initiative for the first time in their entire sex life and he has no idea what to do with his hands or his feet or any of his limbs. Is this how Izuku felt when Katsuki just sprang on him like a horny dog? Like he’s being caught in a current?
“What are you doing?” He asks, but it comes out more like a squeak. Curses! He can’t let Izuku get to him now, after all this time! Regain control of the situation, Katsuki!
“Be quiet.”
Katsuki’s mouth snaps together. No! That’s not what he’s supposed—Izuku unzips his jeans with a metallic sound that goes straight to his cock. Surely the entire spectrum of human arousal known to man hitting him all at once can’t be healthy, and all the blood rushing south leaves him dizzy and winded.
“Open your mouth,” Izuku says, in a tone somehow both kind and stern all at once. “Say, ah, Kacchan.”
Katsuki doesn’t move, he’s frozen into place. Everything he’d ever thought about his relationship is currently being disproven, so give him a moment here, will you? Izuku doesn’t let him, though, and roughly grabs a fistful of his hair, pulling him towards his crotch and pressing the head of his cock to his lips.
Yeah, yeah, wait, if Izuku thinks this is how he can challenge their well-established bedroom dynamics, he’s got another thing coming. Katsuki was no one’s pretty sub. He resists the strong hand at the back of his head to glare haughtily at Izuku, who smiles beatifically back at him.
When Katsuki still doesn’t move, Izuku sighs and his face falls. “Don’t make me sad, Kacchan.”
It’s a low blow, but it works. Katsuki’s lips subconsciously turn down at the corners and he reflexively opens his mouth to say something. The small lapse in judgement—who knew Izuku had such manipulative prowess—is all Izuku needs before his thumb his slipping into Katsuki’s mouth and four fingers suddenly find their way in there.
Katsuki chokes and pulls back, but Izuku is now slipping his fingers out of his mouth and replacing it with the length of his cock.
“Don’t bite, ‘kay?” Izuku says, voice still so gentle and soft-sounding. “Be a good boy.”
Katsuki shivers, his cock twitching in his pants. Holy fuck, what the hell happened to his Izuku?
“Use your colours if you need to,” Izuku pets his head gently as his languidly moves in and out, drool dripping down Katsuki’s mouth. “I promise I’ll stop.”
Despite Izuku’s newfound everything, Katsuki wholeheartedly believes this. He nods, just a little, and it’s enough for Izuku, who gives him a very satisfied smile and starts to pick up the pace. Izuku thrusts hard back into his mouth and he has no choice but to grip the strong thighs in front of him as he attempts to control his gag reflex. It’s not his first time giving head, but Izuku was usually always an overstimulated, whimpering mess by the time Katsuki got around to it, so, well, he’d never really been facefucked before. Or ever.
Izuku’s making delicious noises above him, groaning and babbling praise. It’s hard to describe exactly what Izuku is doing to him, the extent to which he’s—god, he’s being used, isn’t he? Him! Bakugou Katsuki, an individual well non his way to becoming the best hero in all of Japan (and next stop, the world), is being used like a common slut Izuku found at a shitty bar. He taps Izuku’s thighs desperately and luckily for him, he relents, letting him pull off to catch his breath, tears brimming in his eyes. His throat feels hoarse and ragged, and when he looks at Izuku all he can do is shiver in anticipation.
Shit, maybe this personality-change thing of Izuku’s is contagious. He can’t let this keep happening!
“You’re doing so well, Kacchan,” Izuku says warmly, and suddenly everything is forgotten. That’s right, of course he’s doing well. He’s Bakugou Fucking Katsuki, he knows how to give good head. “Don’t stop.”
Don’t stop, right, of course. Katsuki chases after his hard cock with his mouth and takes it in with his tongue, licking lightly around his tip. Izuku’s eyes darken and he looks so hungry—it’s the same thrilling look he always wore on the battlefield that had Katsuki falling for this loser in the first place. “You want this, don’t you?” Izuku asks, a little rhetorically, but Katsuki hums around him in response.
“Good boy,” Izuku grunts, and thrusts forward again. Now he’s slamming Katsuki’s head down to the rhythm of his hips, letting him choke and cough and slobber all over his thick length. He feels disgusting. His nose is running, tears are being squeezed out from his eyes, and his mouth is making such a lewd squelching sound that he cannot help but feel embarrassed. He ekes out a quick glance up at Izuku’s flushed face, blinking up at him through teary lashes, and Izuku’s face is filled with wild abandon and a wild, bright light as though he was loving every minute of it.
Katsuki’s cock throbs, confined by his sweatpants. He wants to touch himself so bad, but he doesn’t have the hands free to do it.
“Fuck, Kacchan,” Izuku moans, making a sinful noise in the back of his throat. “You look so good like this. You look so pretty when you cry.”
Katsuki moans around his dick, mind going blank. All he can hear is Izuku, all he can smell is Izuku, all he can—abruptly, Izuku pulls out of his mouth. Katsuki’s mouth hangs open, waiting for him to come back, but all he does is drag the head of his cock all over his lips like a lipstick, then step back and admire his handiwork.
“You look like a wreck,” Izuku admits.
“Thanks, fucker,” Katsuki spits out, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
“That can be arranged,” Izuku replies, before picking him up as though he weighed nothing and flipped him around, dropping him onto the bed on his hands and knees. Right, that should not have excited him as much as it it did.
“Do you want to help me take off your pants, or do you want to do it yourself like a good boy?” Izuku asks, his voice too cheery. Katsuki resists the urge to look back over at him, staring hard at a piece of lint on the bed instead.
“I don’t fucking — I’m not your — you aren’t —“ he can’t think of the proper words. Izuku grabs his hips and presses his cock against the slope of his ass, Katsuki can feel it rub between and —
Fine! He undoes the knot on the front of his sweatpants, hand shaking.
“Good choice,” the man behind him laughs and pats his head, making his whole body shudder. Izuku peels both his sweatpants and underwear off him at the same time, chucking them somewhere off into distance of their room. Then he busies himself in their nightstand—Jesus, he’s getting the lube.
Katsuki’s about to get fucked for the first time in his life.
“Might be cold,” Izuku says, then he presses a finger into Katsuki without any ceremony. Katsuki gasps and falls onto his elbows, ass up in the air as Izuku presses down on his back and twists.
“W-wait,” he gasps, biting at his arm. “Slow down.”
Izuku hums. “But you’re rougher, Kacchan,” he says dismissively, adding a second finger all too quickly. He crooks his fingers, looking for something, as he moves his fingers in and out with almost expert precision. When the fuck did he get this good at this? Katsuki’s entire body jerks and he bites his lip hard not to yell, can’t give Izuku the satisfaction. He pulls out unbearably slowly and Katsuki can feel this, all of this, it’s getting on his nerves he can’t stand it. He wants to cum and he wants to cum now, and he hates that he’s letting Izuku have so much fun up there.
“I can hardly spread my fingers,” Izuku comments casually, and adds a third finger. Katsuki tenses up, but it does him no good, so he forces himself to relax. “You’re really tight. I can feel your pulse right here—“ he says, and presses hard against his insides.
Something white hot explodes behind his eyes and Katsuki groans loudly, toes curling. Behind him, Izuku sucks in a deep breath, and Katsuki cranes his neck to look at him.
Izuku is staring at him with a dumb, just been punched expression on his face. His cheeks and chest are flushed, mouth slightly ajar. Alright, fine. Two can play that game. If Izuku wanted to suddenly surprise Katsuki with his newfound spirit of sexual domination, Katsuki can return that favour too. He just…has to let go of his pride.
It’s a bit harder than you’d think to do that, but when your cock twitches insistently and your balls feel like exploding, it’s kind of like a cheat code. Rocking back on Izuku’s now still fingers, he arches his back and grinds out a, “is that it, shitty Deku?”
Izuku coughs hard and moves his hand again, twisting his fingers once more and reaching underneath him with his other hand to grab at his cock. Katsuki ruts into his touch—can’t help it, he really can’t, and groans again, long and deep, burying his face into the bed so that Izuku can’t see how red he’s gotten. Sure, he might have progressed in leaps and bounds at letting go of his ego today, but he’s still easily embarrassed. Izuku twists his hand and yes, he’s going to cum.
“Ah, fuck, Izu — ku I’m gonna —“ he chokes out, alternating between grinding down on Izuku’s fingers and rutting into his hand when—everything stops. His hand disappears off his cock and the other stops moving and Katsuki twists his head around to look at him with what must be the worst glare he’d ever thrown his way.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Katsuki snaps, blood pressure at an all time high.
“You can’t finish so soon, Kacchan,” Izuku replies, holding something up in the air. It is a black silicone ring, too large for a finger—
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Katsuki spits, eyes widening in horror. “Don’t you dare put that on me.”
“Use your colours, Katsuki,” Izuku sing-songs, pulling out of him to manhandle him until his back is on the bed. “I’m putting it on, okay?”
Don’t, Katsuki thinks, mind filling with panic. I don’t want it! He launches himself at Izuku, but he catches his hands neatly and throws him back onto the bed, a thigh on his stomach.
“Won’t this be fun?” asks Izuku, wearing a shit-eating grin as he lets go of Katsuki and starts undoing the Velcro clasps holding the ring together. “Be good for me, okay? I promise I won’t make it last long,” Izuku says, leaning forward.
“Yellow,” Katsuki squeaks out, terrified.
“Okay,” Izuku immediately stops, pulling his hands back. “Talk to me.”
“I—” There’s only so much change Katsuki can accept in one day.
“You’ve used this plenty on me,” Izuku pats his thighs gently, leaning forward to give him a kiss on the forehead. “I promise it’ll feel good and I won’t make it too tight. Okay? If you want me to take it off, I’ll take it off. Just try it.”
Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut. He has used it on Izuku plenty of times before. He knows Izuku likes it. Taking a deep breath, he grouses out a “fine,” and Izuku pats his thigh before wrapping it around the base of his dick. It’s tight, and only slightly uncomfortable.
“So well-behaved,” Izuku praises, leaning forward to kiss him deeply, tongue sliding over his. “I’ll make sure to take care of you, okay?” With that said, rucks up the sides of Katsuki’s t-shirt, sliding it off his chest and kissing the skin that comes into view. He takes the time to flick a nipple, making Katsuki groan and bump his hips up, desperate for friction.
He slides down his body and noses at Katsuki’s cock, before taking the entire length into his mouth at one go. Katsuki yelps and thrusts upwards, chest heaving and bright red as the heat of Izuku’s skilled mouth engulfs him and his tongue runs alongside the underside with practised ease. Months of being too rough with him has eased away at his gag reflex, making it virtually non-existent, if you’d believe it. Katsuki arches up into him, the dizzying feeling of constantly being on edge yet unable to tip over slowly becoming torturous.
Izuku shifts his body to the side and presses his fingers back into his hole, going up to massage his prostate and Katsuki keens, a high-pitched noise that’s entirely too embarrassing to repeat again, so he puts his hands over his mouth and gasps into it.
Izuku pulls off him and makes a sighing noise. “Kacchan, that’s not allowed,” he says, sounding sweet but his tone is firm. Katsuki pulls his hands away from his mouth and pants. He’ll listen, he’ll listen just —
“Good boy,” Izuku beams at him and Katsuki throws his head back onto the pillows and arches into the words, and Izuku’s fingers crook inside him.
“Fuck, please,” he whimpers, and Izuku leans over his body to nose at his neck. He presses feather-like kisses to the sensitive slope—he always gets goosebumps from attention being paid to his neck and today is no exception.
“Please?”
“Do something, fucking more,” Katsuki loosens his hands from where they’ve been grabbing at the sheets to tug hard on Izuku’s hair. Everything feels dialled up to eleven with the cock ring around him: every twitch and throb feels more intense than before, and he feels like he’s been standing on the edge of a cliff for far too long now.
Izuku’s fingers brush his prostate again and he yelps, instinctively bucking his hips up, and at the same time he bites down hard on the juncture where his neck and his shoulders meet. Katsuki gasps and swears violently.
“Bitey little shit,” Katsuki threatens, clapping one hand over his neck, which is throbbing.
“You like it,” Izuku says dismissively, running his tongue along the edges of his teeth. “Don’t tempt me or I’ll make more. Now come on, ass up.”
Katsuki glares viciously at him, but he still lifts himself up and turns around before Izuku grabs him by the back of his neck and shoves him down hard into the bed.
“You ready, Kacchan?” Izuku asks, pressing something hot and thick to his hole. “I wanna hear you.”
Katsuki calls him some choice names. Izuku, however, has the patience of a saint, and he just sits there, waiting.
“Ugh,” Katsuki can feel more tears prick at the corner of his eyes. “Please fuck me,” he says, and Izuku pushes into him straight away.
He’d been fingered for so long this doesn’t hurt, but there’s still a distinct feeling of being filled that pushes the air out of his lungs and forces him down onto his elbows.
Izuku groans out and presses his lips to the nape of his neck. “You’re taking me perfectly,” he murmurs, and Katsuki keens.
Then he pulls out and slams back in.
Being fucked sort of feels like he’s getting the air forced in and out of his lungs, which should hardly feel good. Izuku’s cock drags and pulls on his rim and he has to take gasping, heaving breaths to work around feeling like he’s getting repeatedly punched. Fuck, it feels so good.
Izuku groans out a low swear that has Katsuki’s spine tingling, then he reaches for Katsuki’s face, hands tracing his Adam’s apple before pushing up to his lips.
“Suck,” Izuku says, a little breathlessly, and Katsuki obediently opens his mouth and hollows out his cheeks. He can tell Izuku expected some resistance, but the obedience is worth it to hear Izuku swear violently and pick up the pace; the sound of slapping skin getting louder by the second. He hears a rustle as Izuku shifts his angle — and then the next brutal thrust hits his prostate dead on and he might’ve yelled, he might’ve not, but he completely misses whatever happens in the following few seconds.
Izuku laughs, proceding to set a brutal, ravishing pace that Katsuki can’t keep up with, just has to lie there and take it. His cock is starting to hurt with how hard it is, though, and he bucks into empty air and keens again.
“Do you want to come?” Izuku asks him, draping his body over his back and licking at the shell of his ear. “Do you, Kacchan?”
Yes. Yes. Yes. He can’t speak around the fingers in his mouth, so he just sucks harder and nods frantically, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. Please.
“You’ve got to beg me for it, though,” he continues, and sucks hickies onto the nape of his neck and his back. His other hand, holding his hips, tightens its grip until it’s painful and would definitely leave a bruise there the next day. “Go on,” he urges, and slips his fingers out of his mouth.
Oh the humiliation. Katsuki feels like something inside him might die if he asks for anything of Izuku. Katsuki feels like he might die if he doesn’t come right this fucking second.
“Fuck!” he curses, and fists his hands in the sheets. “Please—ngh—take it off,” he grits out between clenched teeth.
“Say please let me come,” Izuku says, sounding seemingly unaffected, but there’s a hitch to the end of the sentence that Katsuki recognises from years of familiarity.
Katsuki cranes his neck to look at him again through his watery eyes, but it’s the wrong move because Izuku takes one look at him, swears like a sailor, and reaches a hand down to grip at his cock and twist his hand on it.
He whimpers at the overstimulation and bucks into it, but the fucking silicon at the base of his cock is fucking getting in the fucking way—“please let me fucking c- ah -ome,” Katsuki’s voice cracks on the last syllable as it coincides with a particularly pinpoint thrust and his body shakes. “Please.”
He can’t see Izuku’s smile, but he knows he’s doing it as he reaches underneath with both hands and pulls at the Velcro straps, letting it fall undone onto the bed.
Katsuki’s blood thunders in his ears. He’s going to come he’s going to—fuck!
Izuku’s hands come up from his weeping cock to wrap his throat, squeezing it shut. Damned bastard stealing all of his tricks—Katsuki’s whole body jerks as a moan tries to free itself and his vision goes white as he comes all over their clean bedsheets and the length of his chest.
Izuku chokes out a, “Kacchan,” before he too is following, spilling inside of him with hard twitches of his cock that should be as arousing as it is. He groans and grinds deeply into him, pushing into him as far as he can possibly go. Katsuki’s whole body goes lax and he collapses onto the dirtied bed, soft and boneless.
They lie there, panting. The bed creaks as Izuku stands up, and he dimly recognises the sound of the door opening and closing.
Katsuki stares at the wall in a daze.
Sometime later, Izuku come back in and picks him up effortlessly, carrying him like some sort of bride through their apartment. Fucked out of all his functioning braincells, Katsuki is still too out of it to care, and only really wakes up when he’s lowered into a tub of warm water.
He blinks in surprise and looks at Izuku as he climbs in after, sitting so that Katsuki’s back is to his chest. “You alright?” Izuku asks, kissing tenderly the parts where he’d been too rough and were bruised, dragging his lips over old, faded scars. “Was a bit rough.”
“A bit?” Katsuki demands, fingers itching to twist Izuku’s balls for that one. “What the fuck happened to you? I swear, if I find out you’re not really that shitty Deku—”
Izuku laughs, a small rumbling in his chest, the vibrations of which Katsuki can feel. “I tried to tell you this morning. Last night, while on patrol, there was this kid with this quirk—and it was just a kid, so I wasn’t really paying attention.”
Katsuki tenses up. What kind of quirk made you go fucking bonkers in the bedroom?
“It makes you lose your inhibitions,” Izuku presses a kiss to the top of his head, reaching for the loofah to scrub Katsuki’s back. “Think of it like being drunk, but entirely lucid. You just…do what you want.”
Right, Katsuki does remember being told something like that when he woke up, but he’d also been out on the night shift and sleep deprivation had never been kind to him. “I asked you if it was serious and you said no!”
“It’s not serious,” Izuku protests.
Katsuki gives him a withering look. “You just disrupted the entire dynamic of our relationship. How long have you—” he feels himself pinken and rues the day he was born. “You know. Thought of that.”
Izuku blinks at him, then rubs the back of his head shyly. “Um,” he squeaks. “A lot!”
“And you didn’t say anything?!”
“I was waiting for the right time,” Izuku whines, at least sounding a little embarrassed. “But I’m usually so shy…”
Shy. Hah. Katsuki feels all his sore muscles cry at that one.
“You’re the one who will change the sheets,” he declares instead. “And make dinner.”
Izuku laughs. “Okay.”
A comfortable silence falls, in which Izuku helps him to wash his hair and Katsuki enjoys the feeling of his hands. Finally, he screws up the courage. “When will it wear off?”
“The quirk?” Izuku frowns. “Probably by night-time? It can’t last more than twenty-four hours…I hope.”
“How long till then?”
Izuku looks over at their bathroom clock. “four hours, give or take.”
Katsuki draws in a deep breath. Then another. Then he says, “Round two?”
Izuku gapes at him, mouth opening wide. Then he kisses his cheek, giggles, and says, “let me drain the tub a little.”