Chapter Text
Boys could be so terribly mean.
It’s a thought that crosses Katsuki’s mind as she looks down at a couple of older brats falling over themselves— a desperate attempt to scamper away. A bright grin stretches across her face, and she threateningly waves her small, bruised fists in their direction. They’re such babies that they can’t even admit defeat; they’d rather just run away and snitch on her to a teacher.
Whatever. Katsuki rubs the achy nosebleed dribbling down her lips between the crook of her elbow, attempting to wipe away as much sticky red as possible.
A tissue is pressed against her nose, and she looks up to find a pair of big, teary green eyes behind it.
“Kacchan,” Deku’s soft, wobbly voice breaks as she sniffles. “I’m sorry— I’m really sorry,” A hiccup startles her small chest, shaking hands moving to wipe away the blood.
Katsuki scowls, face twisting in irritation. This is exactly what she was trying to avoid. “Why are you apologizing, ugly?”
“It’s my fault,” Big tears roll down Deku’s red, freckled cheeks. “I got you hurt again. And you might get in trouble this time.”
What an idiot.
Boys could be so terribly mean, especially to a pathetic girl like Deku.
She’s all soft and pudgy with green hair that never sits flat and freckles littering her face. When she speaks, she stutters over her words and she falls during kickball every time, so everyone hates when she’s on their team — a loser crybaby who plays with an All Might figurine during recess and wears the same battered red sneakers to school.
She’s also Katsuki’s best friend.
“Who cares,” Katsuki rolls her eyes. “They weren’t even that strong.”
Despite her tears, Deku’s eyes twinkle with amazement, and it’s one of Katuski’s favorite expressions; the one where Deku looks up at her like she’s the coolest girl to ever exist (because she is). “Kacchan is so cool. You’re like my protector!”
Protector. Woah.
A pride, so strong and all-encompassing, washes over Katsuki. She distantly thinks to herself— is this what All Might feels like fighting bad guys? Protecting the Earth? This chest flutter and tingle in her cheeks? Katsuki will do anything to keep it, to make sure Izuku’s eyes are always on her, just like this.
Katsuki is Izuku’s protector. The title brands itself into her beating heart.
…
For most of their life, Katsuki and Izuku have remained irreversibly intertwined with one another. If Katsuki is being honest, she doesn’t actually remember what life was like without Izuku. It must have been pretty fucking lame.
With only a five minute walk separating their childhood homes, a familiar sight would often greet Katsuki upon pushing past her front door in the morning: Izuku, patiently waiting outside at the gates, gripping the straps of that dingy yellow backpack she refused to let go of. She’d catch the sound of Katsuki’s approaching steps and perk her head up like a puppy, bouncy green hair whipping around to follow the movement.
“Kacchan!” She beamed. “Ready to go?”
Despite the years passing, Izuku has remained wonderfully consistent in that regard, her doe-eyes always seeking Katsuki out, looking at her like she hung the stars and made the world spin on its axis. Katsuki likes being her first choice. That’s why going to the same university and sharing an apartment as roommates was instinctive, then.
Though Katsuki would never admit it aloud, she also likes seeing the ways in which Izuku has changed, the different uniforms she’s adorned as they moved through schooling. Alongside their living room walls are framed photographs that follow them through the years. Standing in front of their elementary school playground, their first day of middle school (it’s Katsuki’s secret favorite, because Izuku looked really cute in the dark blue of her long, pleated skirt), their first day of high school, concerts they’ve been to, memories they’ve shared together.
Throughout it all, Katsuki finds herself stopping to stare at the photos, marveling at how Izuku has grown. Her hair fluffier, curling in wisps against her round face, her height taller, though not as tall as Katsuki (much to her disgruntlement), her hips wider, her chest bigger. The boys that used to bully Izuku were suddenly attracted to her, and that pisses Katsuki off. It was easier when bullies just wanted to pull on Izuku’s pig tails and it was up to Kacchan, her protector, to fight them off.
But that’s fine, she thought to herself, because grass is green, water is wet, and Kacchan and Deku are going to be best friends forever. These are just facts of life that she has operated under for as long as she can remember.
Things are starting to change, though.
The realization dawns upon Katsuki on a lazy Sunday morning. She stirs to life with a numbness traveling up her arm, and a firm denial at any attempt in moving it.
The sight of messy green curls peeking from beneath plaid comforters is unsurprising, because this, too, is a routine Katsuki has grown familiar with. Movie nights on Saturday that inevitably end up with Deku falling asleep curled against her side like a cat seeking warmth.
Katsuki attempts to free her arm, earning her the disgruntled grumble from a sleeping Deku as she twists her head. The crack in their curtains allow for a slither of morning light to spill against her sleeping face, and it twists with displeasure. Damn loser. That’s why Katsuki tells Deku to close the curtains all the way before she gets into bed. She adamantly protests against this every time, ‘cause she likes watching the city at night.
Selfishly, though, Katsuki’s kinda okay with it. These lazy mornings make Deku look extra cute; with her freckled cheeks striped with red sleep lines, and even the dribble of dried drool at the corner of her mouth. It’s a sight that no one else gets to see, a privilege that Katsuki clutches close to her chest, locks it away so no one comes near.
A ping causes Katsuki to momentarily look away, finding that Izuku’s phone is face down on her bedside table. It’s weird ‘cause no one really texts Izuku at this time. Katsuki knows all of her friends— from Ochako, a brown haired girl with round cheeks to Iida, the beefy nerd with thick glasses.
Daisuke— a name she doesn’t know— has sent Izuku a text message.
Hey, still on for tonight?
Katsuki blinks— once, then twice.
Then a nasty, curdling disgust twists her insides rotten. Who the fuck is this?
One of Katsuki’s greatest weaknesses, as loathe as she is to admit, is how easily her patience wears away in the face of her emotions. It’s this impulsiveness that moves her to unlock Izuku’s phone, and scrolls through her entire message history with some nobody from her class.
Izuku sends such stupid emoticons. She adds extra exclamation points to the end of her sentences and reacts to every message with a heart. She even sent her schedule when asked, the schedule that Katsuki helped her make. And Izuku just gave it away to this… Daisuke?
Daisuke, who she has a date planned with.
It’s so gross that she has to throw the phone across the bed, as though physically burned. Her gaze darts to Izuku’s sleeping face, and the fondness she once felt has morphed into something uglier. This vulnerable brat, this fucking idiot of a girl, has the audacity to hide things from her? When Katsuki is the reason why she hasn’t suffered at the hands of a miserable man?
Gross. So fucking gross.
Something else simmers beneath the disgust, though— a panting pain that she attempts to quell with an open palm against her chest. She can’t quite put a name on it.
(It reminds her of that day. It reminds her of the pain she felt seeing Izuku at her door, crying—)
The mattress dips as Katsuki heaves herself over Izuku’s sleeping frame, knees bracketing each side of her hips. She doesn’t even stir awake from the additional weight, just twists her body so that she’s on her back, short bitten nails sleepily scratching her stomach.
“Wake up,” Katsuki demands. There’s no movement, and she sucks her teeth in annoyance. “Wake the fuck up, ugly. Deku.”
Katsuki circles her hands around Izuku’s throat, thumbs putting just the barest amount of pressure against her bobbing esophagus as she swallows.
Finally, big, sleepy eyes reveal themselves as Izuku stirs awake. “Kacchan?” She sleepily blinks.
Katsuki kinda wants to wring her until her eyeballs pop. She decides against it. “When were you planning to tell me?”
“Tell you… what?”
Squeeze. “Don’t fuck with me.”
All at once, Izuku wakes up and reflexively reaches for Katsuki’s wrist— yet she doesn’t try to separate them. Beneath her, she resembles a butterfly who’s had its wings pinned to a spreading board— an ant beneath a magnifying glass, trapped as heat gathers to a single point. Helpless. A little pathetic. Pliant.
“Kacchan, what’s wrong? You look upset,” She tries her best to blink as much of the sleep away, wiggling in place even though it’s futile. “Did I do something?”
“You’re fucking some guy and didn’t think to tell me?” Her voice is carefully calm, despite the way it oozes venom.
“Some guy—?!” Izuku flushes, before realization settles in, and her face falls. “Are you talking about Daisuke-kun?!”
Katsuki burns inside out. “Say his name again and I’ll fuck you up.”
“No! Kacchan, it’s not what you think. Just listen,” She pleads with a squeeze. “We’re not— like that…!”
“I really don’t give a shit if he’s fucking you or not,” hisses Katsuki, despite the rancid taste on her tongue at the very idea of Izuku being touched by unfamiliar hands. “When the fuck were you planning to tell me?”
This is the part where Izuku rushes to clear up the misunderstanding, because surely, that’s what this is. She isn’t actually going on a date with some nobody. She isn’t actually choosing him over Katsuki. I was just going to block him, Kacchan! Thank you for looking out for me, she would say with a bashful little giggle, the kind of soft noise that makes Katsuki want to pinch her cheeks and stretch them out like taffy.
To Katsuki’s horror, none of this happens. Instead, Izuku flinches, and her gaze darts low with shame. “I— I was going to tell you, I really was! I just… didn’t want to upset you.”
“Well, you upset me, anyway. What now?” Katsuki pitches her weight forward, an additional weight against Izuku’s throat as the distance closes between them.
Izuku looks absolutely distraught at her words, tears bubbling in the corner of her misty eyes. “Please, please Kacchan. Don’t be upset.” She hiccups as her chest stutters. The movement causes tears to fall, leaving behind wet streaks across flushed cheeks. “Kacchan does so much for me, I— I wanted you… to trust me!”
Katsuki’s eyebrow twitches. “Trust you?”
Ugh. Izuku looks so ugly now, wet faced and snot-nosed— like a scolded toddler. “I wanted to show I have good judgment. I always feel so bad, Kacchan always has to tell me things about… boys, and romance stuff! I don’t want to be a burden forever.”
Stupid girl. Doesn’t she know this is what Katsuki wants? Doesn’t she realize that it’s Katsuki’s job as her protector to filter out useless trash that tries to touch her? Sure, it’s a pain in the ass, and a useless girl like Deku, who doesn’t understand the first thing about men having ulterior motives, and is constantly charmed by basic kindness, is doomed to be a burden forever— but Katsuki likes it that way. Izuku is at her best when Katsuki is taking care of her. Her protector.
The silence has stretched for too long, and Katsuki is pulled out of her thoughts by the soft hands squeezing her wrist.
“So please, Kacchan… Won’t you trust me? Just this one time?” She pleads with big eyes, wet lashes fluttering as she looks up at Katsuki.
(Like back then.)
A moment passes just like that. Katsuki considers Izuku, fingers tightening around her neck— not enough to hurt, just enough for Izuku to swallow, a small, unconscious movement that Katsuki feels beneath her palm.
If Izuku wants to be an idiot, then so be it. Katsuki isn’t gonna stick around to pick up the fallen pieces. She releases her grip with a shrug. “Whatever,” she says, climbing off Izuku and rising from the bed. “I’m making breakfast.”
“Ah! Will you make pancakes today—”
Katsuki slams the bedroom door behind her. If Izuku wants to be an idiot, then so be it. That doesn’t mean Katsuki is going to be nice about it.
…
Katsuki’s second worst habit, she thinks, is her inability to hide her anger— especially when it comes to Izuku. It’s an ugly, festering thing that leaks from her every pore, so visceral that she can’t suppress it. So she doesn’t.
Throughout the day, Deku buzzes around Katsuki like a bee circling a flower it can’t quite land on; she hovers just by the outskirts, as though waiting for permission, an opening that will settle them back into normalcy. Katsuki doesn’t give her one.
Even when they’re sitting across from each other for breakfast, an oppressive silence stretches between them. She doesn’t bother looking up from her pancakes, mindlessly scrolling through social media, even though she can feel Izuku’s pleading stare.
Izuku finally cracks an hour before her date— or at least, she gets pretty close to it. She’s never done well with receiving any kind of silent treatment.
So when she appears at the bedroom door with a deep frown and furrowed brows, Katsuki doesn’t bother looking up from her assigned reading.
“Help me choose?” Izuku tries, voice quiet.
Katsuki lazily looks up, finding that there are two sweaters in Izuku’s hands— one that’s burnt orange in color, and another that’s littered with green flowers.
“Both are fine, do whatever you want,” shrugs Katsuki, flipping a page in her textbook.
“Kacchan,” Izuku whimpers in pain, pleading. “Why are you acting like this?”
At that, Katsuki is unable to ignore the spike of spitefulness. Is she fucking serious?
“Well, I don’t wanna distract you from your date, and all.”
Izuku’s face twists with despair. “But… I just— I wanted you to trust me…”
Katsuki rolls her eyes. “Maybe I’d trust you if you just told me in the first place.”
That isn’t true. Whether she was told or not, Katsuki wouldn’t be able to control her open disgust, her genuine disdain, for any man perceiving Izuku ever.
Izuku looks as though she’s been slapped, her gaze flickering down in shame.
“Okay,” She deflates. “I’m sorry. I’ll just… tell you when I’m about to leave.”
Katsuki scrunches her face together. She still seriously plans on going? Is Katsuki’s ‘trust’ worth all this fucking bullshit? Is she so desperate for another man that she’s willing to throw away their friendship? It’s unfathomable.
But that’s what it looks like. Just as promised, a few hours later, Katsuki hears Izuku’s muffled voice past her locked door.
“Kacchan,” Izuku announces. “I’m leaving now.”
A thing that Katsuki and Izuku do is that, no matter what, they will see each other off. Even if they’re still reeling from a fierce feud, or one of them is running late for classes, the other will stand at the genkan.
That is why Katsuki props her shoulder against the wall now, arms crossed and expression impassive; watching Izuku as she wobbles slightly, catching herself with one hand while tugging a shoe into place. She always picks the same pair of beaten up sneakers that always sits beside Katsuki’s aged softball bat, propped against the wall.
Izuku turns so that she faces Katsuki, fiddling with the hem of her cardigan— she chose the orange one. “I’m leaving now,” she repeats.
“I can see that.”
“Will you be home when I get back?”
“Dunno. Shitty hair is going out tonight, maybe I’ll join.”
False. Katsuki has no intention of going anywhere tonight. After all, how else will she know when Deku gets home from her date? Yeah, they have each other’s locations on— but it just… feels better when she can see it for herself.
But Izuku doesn’t know that, of course. So she wears this pitiful, kicked-dog expression. “You didn’t tell me.”
Katsuki can’t help but snort. “That makes two of us.”
Izuku’s frown deepens, and she quickly turns on a heel as though desperate to hide her expression from Katsuki.
“I’ll see you later, then. I’m off!” Her quivering voice says.
“Ok. Bye.”
Silence.
Izuku doesn’t move. From here, Katsuki can see the way her shoulders tremble, hunched so that it reaches her ears. She’s fidgeting in place, using the tip of her shoe to scratch her ankle— a pot lid that quivers as it nears a boiling point.
A beat passes, then two.
Then a pitiful, high-pitched warble is heard. “Kacchan…”
“What?”
Izuku faces her once again, but this time it’s accompanied by big, teary eyes and a quivering bottom lip. Snot is leaking from her nose, and no matter how much she sniffles, it dribbles back down.
“I don’t wanna go out with Daisuke,” She chokes out past hiccuping sobs, chest stuttering. “I want to stay with Kacchan.”
Oh, Izuku. It’s a little ridiculous how quickly Katsuki feels her anger seep away, replaced with the overwhelming urge to hold, to protect. That’s her role, and it’s a duty she takes very seriously.
“You fucking nerd,” She opens her arms with a sigh. “You shouldn’t force yourself to go on dates with losers. If you just wanna stay with me, just say that.”
“I know and I just did!” Izuku cries harder, clumsily kicking her shoes off so she can shuffle into Katsuki’s embrace. “I wanna stay with Kacchan,” Her muffled voice leaves a warmth that seeps past Katsuki’s shirt.
Maybe this is weird, but Katsuki likes how Izuku is a little smaller. It lets her head rest between her cleavage when they hug; makes her feel like if she tries hard enough, she can pull back her rib cage and shove Izuku inside, right next to her beating heart.
“You’re such a crybaby,” Katsuki caresses Izuku’s hair, and it leaves her palms slightly oily due to the styling product. “Fine. You can stick with me a little longer.”
Izuku looks up, chin propped between Katsuki’s chest. “Kacchan isn’t mad anymore?”
How could she stay mad? It’s not her fault that creepy losers like Daisuke think they have a chance. Katsuki’s just gotta do a better job at banishing them away, just like she always has.
She doesn’t say any of this, though. Instead, she makes a show of scratching her chin, pondering. “Hmm. Depends. Do I get to beat your ass in Melee?”
Izuku giggles with a loud, obnoxious sniffle. Finally, the little pinch her eyebrows have finally eased away. She’s looking up with that wonderful, adorable expression. “Will… you watch me play Stardew Valley afterward?”
“You got some fuckin’ nerve makin’ demands,” she scowls, poking Izuku’s forehead. “Sure. Just cause I’m feeling nice.”
With a beaming smile, Izuku throws herself deeper into Katsuki’s embrace, the impact nearly sending them backward. But Katsuki wraps her arms tight, takes in the smell of coconut clinging to Izuku’s hair, and the world rights itself back into place.
About an hour later, when they’re pressed close on the couch, Izuku’s phone rings. They're both too focused on their game, fingers furiously clicking away at their controllers. It’s one of those rare moments where Izuku gets quite nasty— in an endearing, cheeky surprise kind-of-way, like Katsuki’s foul mouth has rubbed off on her, and it slips out against her better judgment in moments where she’s especially frustrated. Another way that they’ve irreversibly intertwined themselves with one another.
But the phone buzz seems to catch Izuku’s attention, and she makes a panicked, high-pitched squeak. It’s just enough of a distraction for Katsuki to catch her off guard, and on the screen, Jigglypuff knocks Princess Peach off the platform.
“Got your ass. That’s what you get for not bein’ focused, dumbass.” Katsuki snarks, obnoxiously leaning her weight into Izuku’s side, who surprisingly doesn’t flounder. It’s then that Katsuki recognizes the distressed expression on her face, brows pinched and teeth nibbling her lip.
“Fuck is your deal?”
“Daisuke-kun texted me. He asked if I’m running late,” Izuku bites her nail. It’s a bad habit that Katsuki’s been trying to train her out of. “I don’t know what to say. How do I… reject him?”
Katsuki rolls her eyes with a snort. That’s what’s stopping them from playing another round? Fuck that.
“I got it,” She snatches the phone out of Izuku’s hands, ignoring her surprised hiccup.
“Kacchan,” Izuku begins, a hint of panicked pleading behind her tone. “Don’t be mean, okay? We still go to class together.”
Who the hell cares? It’s not like he’s gonna try any shit with Izuku— Katsuki won’t let him, would pop his balls off like pez dispensers before the thought even crosses his mind.
After finishing her business, Katsuki haphazardly tosses the phone back to Izuku, who just barely catches it.
“Eh?” Izuku blinks in confusion, thumb scrolling through her messages. Not like she’ll find anything. “What did you do?”
“Blocked and deleted his number,” shrugs Katsuki, resting an arm on the back of their couch.
“Kacchan!”
“What.”
“I told you Daisuke-kun and I—”
Katsuki levels her with a nasty glare. “Drop that dumbass kun before I drop kick you.”
Izuku’s breath hitches before she licks her lips, anxious. “… I told you Daisuke and I are classmates. What if it’s awkward?”
Katsuki blinks. “Then I’m going to beat the shit out of him till he bleeds, duh. Don’t ask stupid fuckin’ questions.” She drapes her arm around Izuku’s shoulder, closing the distance between them with a lazy tug, and her lips hover by Izuku’s ear. “If he even looks at you weird, I’ll kill him. So don’t worry about it, dummy, I got ya.”
Izuku freezes, resting her phone face-down with a meek nod. “Just like back then, right?” She looks up with a wobbly smile, soft and hesitant and a little something else. “Kacchan, my protector.”
The title still sends shivers skittering down Katsuki’s spine, even after so many years have passed, but she plays it off with a huff. “You’re such a loser for still callin’ me that. Grown ass adult.”
“Kacchan likes it, though.”
Damn straight. But she’d rather die than admit that, so instead she sinks her teeth into Izuku’s freckled cheek and tickles her till she’s gasping for air between laughter, tearing up.
Yes, she thinks to herself. Just like back then.
…
The dream always starts the same— from the perspective of someone else, outside her own body, like a fly on the wall. She recognizes the family photos hanging on the walls of her childhood home, remembers how she walked past them in her half-asleep daze because of an incessant knock, knock, knock.
The door swings open, and Izuku stands before her, frame hunched. Big green eyes look up at Katsuki, blown wide, blinking her wet lashes. She looked so small back then, fresh out of junior high, and she held onto her trembling body as though it would steady her violent tremors.
In this dream-altered memory, Katsuki doesn’t hear what Izuku says. She’s too fixated on the way her bottom lip quivered as she spoke, how her sleeves slipped down her arm, revealing mismatched colors bruising her wrists, how wet her face was with snot and tears.
Her dream retells the memory through broken fragments.
A classroom. Heavy breathing. An ache in her clenched fists, fingers flexing in its grip.
“Kacchan—”
The dream ends there, yet it often follows Katsuki as she awakens with a jolt, heart racing.
…
The first time Katsuki meets Ochako Uraraka is three years ago as college freshmen. It’s all an accident, really— Izuku bumps into her during orientation, and they clicked so fast, Katsuki didn’t even have time to intervene. It’s ‘cause she isn’t used to girls being interested in Izuku. All of them think she’s just an awkward girl with one friend total, and that was that. So when Ochako actually flashed a big, bright smile and offered to sit together, they were gone before Katsuki could protest against it.
The strangest part, Katsuki thinks, is how utterly unbothered Ochako is when faced against her menacing glare. It goes wooosh over her head, smiling like everything’s fuckin’ sundrops and lollipops.
But it’s fine. Contrary to popular belief, Katsuki isn’t a complete asshole, so she doesn’t actually mind Ochako’s presence around Izuku. She’s like… an extra. A piece of lint that Katsuki could pluck off, but decides against it. She isn’t a threat, and doesn't look at Izuku like she wants something more. Plus, she makes Izuku smile.
So, harmless. And her loser guy friend, Iida, that hangs around her appears to be harmless, too.
Until today.
They’re tucked away in the farthest corner of their local campus cafe, where coffee beans cling to the air alongside baked goods. Opened laptops and messy stacks of paper cover nearly every inch of their table because that’s just how Izuku and Ochako operate during finals. Katsuki tags along because she’s a damn good tutor, and honestly, she doesn’t like being apart from Izuku if it isn’t necessary.
Plus, Izuku looks really cute on busy days like these. Hair mussed and unkempt with a pencil holding her bun together, dressed in baggy sweats that she wore yesterday. She’s got this serious expression, all focused and concentrated on understanding their reading. When Ochako calls out to her, she perks up with a jolt as though yanked from her thoughts.
And this is when Ochako starts going on and on about Izuku going on blind date with her. Immediately, irritation bubbles to the surface, and Katsuki can't help the way her face twists with a deep scowl.
“I just… That kinda came out of nowhere?” Izuku stutters with a blush, fiddling with her hair. “Blind dates?”
“Mhm,” Ochako nods before letting out an exaggerated sigh. “This guy invited me out, but I don’t wanna go by myself.”
Too fuckin’ bad. Figure it the fuck out.
Of course, Ochako doesn’t hear these thoughts, instead flashing a smile. “So I thought I could drag you with me!”
Gross.
The worst part is Izuku might do it. She’s too nice to let a friend suffer alone. She couldn’t even reject that loser guy by herself, it was Katsuki who had to do it.
It’s fine. She doesn’t mind doing it again. She’ll always play the villain if it means protecting Izuku.
But just as she’s about to do so, a weight rests against Katsuki’s knee, and her gaze flickers down to find Izuku giving her a placating squeeze. Their eyes meet for a moment before Izuku turns to Ochako once more, smile wobbling and brows furrowed.
“I’m sorry, Uraraka-san… I think I should stay in,” Izuku says, fidgeting with a rogue curl. “Kacchan and I have plans that day..”
Oh. That’s… nice. That feels really nice.
A swell of gratification settles over Katsuki, because this is Izuku choosing her. Out of her own volition. She knows they belong together, just like it’s always been, and that’s how she mustered the courage to reject Ochako now.
Ochako, who is staring at them with an indescribable expression, head tilted and lips pursed. Eventually, she settles on a “Mkay,” while smiling, and that’s that. The conversation passes, and they’re focused on their studying till evening comes and the cafe walls are painted a hazy orange.
Katsuki and Izuku are just about to leave when Ochako calls out to her.
“Hey, Bakugo,” Ochako looks up. “Could I steal you for a sec?”
“Haa?” Katsuki glares, bag slung over her shoulder. “Fuck do you want?”
Ochako glances behind Katsuki to where Izuku is standing, cluelessly blinking while watching the exchange. Her wordless stare makes it obvious she doesn’t intend for Izuku to be part of this conversation. Huh.
Katsuki flicks Izuku’s forehead. “Hey, dipshit. Wait outside for me”
Izuku blinks. “Eh? Are… you sure?”
“Yes, I’m fuckin’ sure. Scram.”
Lips pursed, Izuku lingers for a few passing seconds before acquiescing. It’s only when there’s a telltale jingle of the cafe doors falling shut that Katsuki fixes her gaze on Ochako.
“So?” Katsuki slumps back into her chair with a lazy, unimpressed tilt of her head. “Fuck is your deal?”
“You and Deku-chan are from Musutafu, right?” Ochako begins, presing the pads of her fingers together, considering. “One of my friends was in the same prefecture. I think… Shizuoka?”
Katsuki is unimpressed, leveling her with a deadpan stare. There are several ways this conversation can go, and frankly, she isn’t fond of any of them. “You wastin’ my time to talk about parts of Japan? Get on with it.”
Ochako isn’t phased by the glare thrown in her direction; instead, she offers a soft chuckle, nodding to herself. “Mm. You see, I always heard about all the local gossip, especially during middle school,” A thin, manicured finger mindlessly traces the rim of her porcelain cup of coffee, her words careful. “There was this one rumor floating around about a girl who got kicked off the softball team—”
Ah.
“— Because she beat someone up so badly…”
She knows about that day.
“... They almost died.”
Thirty minutes after homeroom started.
“No one knows why she did it. But…” Ochako finally looks up, meeting Katsuki’s stare with an odd, unreadable expression. There’s no hostility, and yet Katsuki is still wound tight, like all it’ll take is the wrong word before she springs. “That girl, it was really you, wasn’t it, Bakugo-kun?”
Katsuki grinds her teeth.
“And it was related to Deku-chan, right?”
Yes, Katsuki’s subconscious answers. It was the morning after Izuku showed up in front of my door like— like that.
“Where’d you get that from?” Katsuki asks instead.
Ochako flickers her gaze towards the window. “A few reasons. But am I right?”
“Sure,” Katsuki answers with a lazy shrug, arms crossed. “What about it? You just here to dig up old shit from the past?”
“Well… I guess I was just confused,” Ochako scratches her head, sheepish. “Why did you do it?”
Well.
Just like her dreams, the memory washes over Katsuki in waves. The night Izuku showed up in front of her door, sniffling. She was holding her body so tight, gathering herself between her trembling palms as though on the verge of crumbling— fine dust slipping past her fingers.
“I didn’t know where to go,” Izuku stuttered between hiccuping sobs. “I feel so— I’m so— filthy,” She pushes the word like it physically pains her.
The idea of Izuku being anything but pure is unfathomable to Katsuki. There was an odd ringing in her ears, a sick nausea clawing up her throat as the pieces clicked together. Bruised wrists. The neckline of Izuku’s shirt stretched. Tears. Filthy.
A startling calmness settled over Katsuki, a momentary film over her murky rage. “Who did this?”
Izuku answered with a noisy sob. “It was my fault—”
“Izuku.”
The sound of her given name startled Izuku into looking up, attention captured.
Katsuki used the opportunity, pulling Izuku into her grasp. It’s okay, she doesn’t have to hold herself together anymore, because I’ll do it for her. All the ripped stuffing escaping her ragdoll body is for Katsuki to fix. I can fix this.
She let Izuku tremble in her grasp. “Who?”
A moment passed. “Fujiwara-kun, at the class party today.”
Katsuki nodded. “Let’s get you in the shower.”
That night, curled into a childhood bed a size too small for Katsuki— yet alone two teenagers— she stared at Izuku’s sleeping face, the red beneath her eyes from crying, the drool sitting at the corner of her lips.
Yeah, she thought to herself. I’m going to kill him. Fujiwara Keiji.
The buzz of bone breaking beneath the unrelenting weight of a softball bat still leaves tingling aftershocks in Katsuki’s fingers when she thinks about it. She can still hear her classmates screaming. She can still feel the sweat clinging to her skin, leaving her uniform damp. She can still see Izuku’s terrified expression afterwards, sitting outside the faculty room.
“Why, Kacchan?! Why would you go so far?”
The answer is so simple.
In the present, Katsuki clenches her fist, watches the way her nails leave indents against her palm. She glances towards the window, where she can catch the sight of Izuku patiently waiting outside. She’s rolling back and forth on the heels of her feet, all ditzy and clueless as big green eyes look above her.
“Because it’s my job,” answers Katsuki. “Deku is a useless girl who can’t do shit for herself. So that’s why I’ll always protect her. That’s why I—”
The answer gets caught in her throat, a hidden truth lurking behind her protector title. But maybe it’s too late, cause Ochako raises her brows.
“So what’s what you think of her…” She mumbles quietly to herself.
“Fuck does that mean?”
“Nothing!” Ochako waves her hands reassuringly. “It’s just… I think I’ve learned a little bit more about Bakugo today.”
Katsuki sucks her teeth in annoyance. “What a waste of time. I’m outta here.”
But just as Katsuki is tossing loose change onto the table, clambering to her feet with a huff, Ochako’s soft voice interrupts her movement. “I just think…”
Katsuki’s face pinches with irritation, yet the expression Ochako wears is so strange, she can’t help but linger.
“Izuku… may be smarter than you think?”
Haa? It pisses Katsuki off so much, a scowl turns her entire face sour. “What the hell do you know about Izuku?”
Ochako chuckle, sheepish. “Ehe. Probably not enough.”
The conversation ends there.
Outside, Izuku is rolling on the balls of her feet. She perks up at the sound of Katsuki’s arrival, eyebrows perked. “What did you guys talk about?”
It’s the first thing Izuku asks when Katsuki is close enough, and she’s so damn irritated with all these questions that she can’t help but groan.
“Nunya fuckin’ business. Let’s get outta here.”
Izuku twists her lips into this cute little pout. “Kacchaan, I wanna know.”
“Too damn bad!”
She doesn’t tell Izuku, of course. But—
Izuku… may be smarter than you think.
It lingers.
…
Katsuki often ignores the flyers and party invitations passed around through group chats and social media because she has no purpose for them. Izuku has always been too much of a dork to consider parties, and even though Katsuki doesn’t mind free booze, Izuku’s pitiful, puppy-eyed expression watching her leave is enough to make her cancel plans embarrassingly fast.
So, admittedly, she is surprised when Izuku shares a poster of a live bar hosting an open mic. She feels inclined to say no, but Izuku looks so damn excited about hearing a bunch of losers sing and dance to karaoke, she decides to indulge. It’s fine, no matter how crowded a party gets, Izuku is rather diligent in texting her. She sends shit like home! with several happy emojis as if Katsuki can’t just see her location.
(Yet she waits for the message everytime.)
So it’s fine. Everything should be fine.
Except it isn’t— because Izuku isn’t picking up the phone.
Katsuki sucks her teeth with a swear, leg bouncing as she leans against the brick wall. There’s a tingling numbness in her fingers as she taps Izuku’s contact name for the twentieth time, the past thirty minutes she’s spent outside beginning to catch up to her, chased by a late-night chill. Behind her, the live bar’s music is muffled, occasionally bursting in volume every time the door opens as people pass through. It all fades into background noise, though— her racing heart intertwined with the furious roar of her frustration is much louder, drowning out everything else.
“Eh? Bakugo, what are you doing out here?”
For a moment, a voice cuts through the fog, and Katsuki looks up to find Kirishima’s owlish blinking.
“Fuck off,” Katsuki barks with a nasty glare, phone pressed to her ear.
The person you’re trying to reach is not available. At the tone—
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
In her furious rage, Katsuki slams the phone down with a sickening crack of glass.
“Jesus fucking Christ, dude!” Kirishima jumps back in fear. “What the fuck is your deal?!”
“Fucking Deku isn’t picking up her phone, that’s my fucking deal!” Katsuki shouts. “She was supposed to be here an hour ago. An hour ago! I called her and texted her, like, fifty fucking times and she won’t respond!” She explains in a rush of words, fingers clawing through blonde locks, as though she could massage away her pulsating migraine. “And her stupid ass location is off! Fuck it, I’m going back to the house—”
Just as she’s spinning around on a heel, Kirishima’s hands suddenly clasp onto her shoulders, whirring her back around so that she’s facing his confused expression. “Woah, woah, woah, slow down,” He blinks, brows furrowed. “Izuku is probably fine, chill out!”
Katsuki immediately squints. “What do you know?”
“Well,” Kirishima lets go, sheepishly scratching behind his neck. “I just figured she’d be busy talking to Daisuke—”
Katsuki stills. The world pauses.
“What.”
Like some clueless fucking idiot with air for brains, Kirishima just tilts his head. “Eh? Didn’t you…”
”What.”
”About how Daisuke left a little while ago to try and ask her out again…?”
It’s almost surreal how quickly her heart plummets into the pit of her stomach. Daisuke went to see Izuku? Does that mean, right now…
“It’s my fault. I’m sorry, Kacchan. I should have—“
Katsuki thinks she’s gonna be sick.
…
Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot!
She’s so fucking pissed she could explode; a hot, molten rage that’s oozing out of her, burning her from the inside out until she’s nothing but a festering wound, open flesh.
Initially, it’s easier directing her rage onto Izuku, that fucking idiot of a girl, because she should have called Katsuki the moment Daisuke rang their bell.
And yet, beneath all that, there’s fear. Honest fear, a gale of wind that whirls her insides into disarray. The last time she could recall feeling so scared was when Izuku was at her front door, massaging her bruised wrists while choking on wet sobs, because someone hurt her.
She didn’t call because she couldn’t. She needs you right now, and you’re not there. Someone is going to hurt her again. It’s going to happen again.
No.
Katsuki banishes those thoughts with a violent shake of her head. They’re irrelevant. Instead, she focuses on picking up her speed, closing the distance between her and their apartment. Her eyes dart up, searching the rows of doors as though Izuku would show up to assuage her worries, to tell her she’s worrying over nothing.
Of course, there’s no Izuku.
Clambering up the steps, Katsuki throws her body into the door as she fumbles for the lock. If that fucking bastard so much as touches a hair on Izuku’s head—
“You shouldn’t get in trouble over me, Kacchan…!”
It’s instinctual the way Katsuki’s hand latches onto the wooden softball bat— the same one that always sits next to Izuku’s beaten up sneakers— with a grip so tight, she feels the ache in her knuckles.
“Deku—!” Katsuki screams, thumping footsteps shaking the floorboards. “Izuku!”
Faced with an All Might poster, she swings the bedroom door swings open—
And green eyes find hers.
Daisuke is cupping Izuku’s face, just a few feet of distance separating them.
Izuku, who looks up at Katsuki with something dancing in her eyes, an expression she can’t quite pinpoint.
For a moment, the world slows to a stop— all Katsuki can hear is the violent thrum of a racing heartbeat in her ears. All she can follow is the single tear that trickles down Izuku’s ruddy, freckled cheeks.
White static swallows Katsuki. For a moment, that morning flashes in her mind. Thirty minutes after homeroom. She remembers how the mindless chatter of high school students faded into nothingness, she remembers how tightly she gripped her wooden softball bat. She remembers spotting him, and swinging with her entire weight.
Again and again and again—
An ear-piercing scream cuts through the fog, and suddenly Katsuki is resurfacing with a heaving gasp. The thick, cloying scent of iron fills her lungs with every ragged breath she takes, and in the distance, she vaguely registers the wooden bat slipping from her grasp. It falls to the ground in a huddle of splintered pieces.
To her side, Katsuki finds Izuku frozen still, expression twisted with horror, eyes wide like saucers. She’s a damn mess, red splattered all over her. In fact, there’s red splattered everywhere; on her All Might bedsheets, on her taped posters, her vanity mirror. It even reaches the wall where origami birds dangle from. So much red. So much—
Blood.
“No, no, no…” Izuku is clambering to her knees, hovering over an amorphous, mangled mass of something crushed into their floorboards. “Kacchan, he— he isn’t— uungh,” Something wet and worbled catches in her throat before she starts to vomit, clasping a hand over her mouth as it futifully tries to stifle the sound of obnoxious retching.
Katsuki drags her eyes away from what used to be Daisuke towards the mirror. She’s covered in blood. At her feet rests her broken, splintered bat.
Fuck.
She doesn’t realize the heavy breathing she hears belongs to her. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Every breath she takes, a metallic scent infiltrates her lungs. It makes her dizzy.
This isn’t like last time. She killed him.
“We have to save him,” Izuku heaves, fumbling for her phone. “We have to— we can still…”
Katsuki snaps her eyes towards Izuku. “Close it.”
“Eh?”
Izuku makes a quiet, as though she’s misheard Katsuki, looking up with those stupid big eyes, clueless. The same fucking cluelessness that got them into this mess.
“Close your phone,” Katsuki pushes past clenched teeth. “Before I fucking break it.”
“But— Kacchan—!”
Why? Why is she being so stubborn? Why won’t she just fucking listen?!
A sudden realization settles over Katsuki, quieting the racing of her heart, her pumping blood. It’s because Izuku doesn’t want to be with her, isn’t it? She doesn’t want Katsuki to be her protector anymore. That’s why she’s looking up at her with such open, unabashed disgust, chest stuttering with the weight of her sobs. She wants Katsuki to get in trouble.
I’ll kill her, Katsuki decides. I’ll kill her so she can’t leave me.
Izuku must see the shift in her expression, because she’s clambering to her feet in a desperate attempt to escape— but she’s too slow, her feet too slippery with blood, and Katsuki lunges.
Their bodies tumble and tangle to the ground, a few steps away from Daisuke’s corpse, and her phone skids away in the midst of their tussle. Izuku isn’t particularly weak; the years spent training her body during their high school softball seasons still linger, and her muscled thighs trap Katsuki’s torso with a squeeze, a desperate attempt to escape.
“How could you do this?! Again!?” Izuku shouts. “How do we fix this?!”
But Katsuki is just a bit stronger. She staggers to her feet, lifting them both into the air, and drives Izuku into the wall. In the distance, several things clatter to the ground.
Izuku is so fucking stubborn— wiggling and squirming, flushed red with exertion as she digs the heel of her foot into Katsuki’s back. It pisses her the fuck off.
Katsuki’s weight keeps Izuku pinned. “Stop fucking moving!” She snarls, and God, she’s so fucking sick of this shit. She’s so sick of this ugliness that clings to her insides, an obsession that keeps her awake at night. She’s so sick of all this blood, sticky and red and pungent. She’s so sick.
“Why?!” Izuku cries, her voice oozing with frantic desperation. “Why does Kacchan care so much?!”
Katsuki latches onto Izuku’s throat, and watches how her eyes widen.
“Because I’m a fucking freak!” screams Katsuki. “I’m a fucking freak who would kill people for you. Everytime a guy looks at you it makes me sick. Makes me wanna split their brains open and carve their fucking guts out! I don’t regret killing that bastard and I’d do it again!” The words just won’t stop, spilling past her lips in rushed, hurried breaths; years worth of ugliness come up to the surface and she’s helpless against it. Each word tightens her grasp, and it’s strange, watching Izuku’s pink lips turn blue as her breathing is cut off, legs kicking uselessly against her.
“But you— Izuku, you can’t hate me for this. Because if you hate me for this, if I don’t get to live a life where I can’t keep you,” A choked, startled laugh escapes Katsuki at the very thought. “Then I’m gonna fucking kill you. I’ll kill you ‘n bury your body— ‘n no one will ever find you, and I’m serious too— Because—”
Thin, trembling fingers catch Katsuki’s wrist in a feeble grasp, clawing at her forearms.
“Because I love you.”
Squeeze.
“I love you, I love you—”
Squeeze.
“I love you, I love you, I love you—”
Squeeze—
“K—Ka—ch—”
It’s the sound of Izuku’s voice, broken and gasping for air, that plunges Katsuki into cold water.
She releases Izuku from her hold with a gasp.
A sinking, horrific realization hits her; she can’t kill Izuku. She doesn’t want to.
But before Katsuki has the time to process all her dread, her guilt—
Izuku chokes, splutters and wheezes, all while reaching for Katsuki once more.
“No,” She whispers, voice cracked raw. “Don’t let go, Kacchan…”
Eh?
Eh?
Izuku moves so that callused hands are once more grasping her throat, and it feels like Katsuki is watching it all from outside her body.
Then this stupid, fucking idiot girl has the audacity, the fucking nerve, to stretch her dry, chapped lips into a smile that oozes with so much love, it makes Katsuki sick.
“Kacchan… loves me?” She whispers, tears bubbling at the corner of her eyes. “You really love me?”
She says it all soft and fond, it pisses Katsuki off so much, she’s rushing to press their lips together. They move so fast that their teeth clack, and Izuku makes a pleased noise behind her throat, and fuck, fuck, fuck—
Katsuki has kissed people before; lazy, casual hook ups that so rarely evolve into anything more. She gets it now. There’s no way any of those fucking losers compare to an inexperienced, fumbling Izuku sucking her mouth, so eager and desperate and really, really cute. Katsuki really wants to mess her up.
I’m gonna blow her fucking mind. I’m gonna make this so good, she’ll never look at anyone but me.
Katsuki yanks away with a shuddering breath, her lips wet and sore. But it’s nothing compared to Izuku right now, flushed bright vermillion and panting like she’s run a fucking marathon. All that huffing and puffing, just from kissing?
“You’re such a fucking virgin,” Katsuki snarks, and her pussy clenches when Izuku whines, lips quivering like she’s gonna cry. Sucks for her, that just makes Katsuki wanna fuck her up even more. “Don’t give a fuck what you gotta say after this. You’re mine now, got it?” She says with a squeeze.
Izuku nods so eagerly, her head might fall off. “I’ve always been Kacchan’s. Even when we were kids,” She admits with a sniffle, and finally, a tear trickles down her cheek. “I… only want Kacchan to look at me! You take care of me so nicely, and I— I want…”
Katsuki slides her hand so that it’s pinching Izuku’s face, squeezing her baby fat cheeks together so that her lips purse. “What do you want, you damn crybaby?”
“You!” Izuku cries. “I want all of Kacchan.”
Fuuck. That’s really hot. Katsuki’s face lights up with a sleazy smirk. “Selfish, aren’t ya? Fine. I’ll give it to you. You’re stuck now, Izuku.”
A delighted shiver scurries down Izuku’s spine. Their mouths latch onto each other, and past the pounding blood in her ears, Katsuki can hear their wet clicks and labored breathing. Her searching grasp slides up Izuku’s tank top, and when she cups a palmful of tit, red, smeared handprints are left behind— Daisuke’s blood.
She unlatches her mouth with a wet gasp, but their distance is only for a moment as she quickly finds home on Izuku’s throat. “Never understood what the fuck my deal was,” She pants, breath ragged. Spit and her own pants leave Izuku’s skin shiny and flushed. “All those years ago— when you called me your fuckin’ protector, and I couldn’t just be fuckin’ normal about it. Couldn’t be normal about you. You make me feel crazy. You wanna see what you make me do? Look— this—”
Katsuki grabs a chunk full of green locks, ignoring the pained gasped Izuku lets out in favor of throwing her to the ground once more. Her body hits the floorboard with a harsh thump, and Katsuki yanks her head up; forced to face what was once Daisuke’s face. “This is what you make me fuckin’ do, see this shit?”
She starts a rushed, frantic grind against Izuku’s ass, ‘cause really, it isn’t the horror in her expression that’s really doing it for Katsuki right now— it’s the hot, sweltering arousal that washes over face in spite. But there’s too many goddamn layers between them and it’s starting to piss her off, so she starts popping open the buttons to her jeans, clumsily pulling it down her legs. The movement allows just enough grace for Izuku to turn onto her back, teary eyes looking up at Katsuki.
“Kacchan,” She furrows her brows. “What are you— we aren’t gonna…”
“Have sex? Fuck yeah, we are.”
Izuku’s eyes widen with horror. “But Daisuke-kun is right—”
Katsuki slams a hand across Izuku’ mouth, cutting her off with a squeak. “I thought you to drop that loser’s fuckin name.” With a violent tug, she yanks Izuku’s shorts and panties off in one fell swoop, revealing her wet clit dribbling and sticky, tucked between two fat lips.
Izuku, like the slut she is, spreads her legs open further with a moan. “I want… whatever Kacchan wants,” She murmurs with a blush, gaze sheepishly darting everywhere but Katsuki’s eyes. “Please take care of me.”
Katsuki melts like putty. She rises to her feet and shoots a threatening glare. “Move and I’ll cave you’re fuckin’ skull in.” In staggering steps backward, her eyes remain glued onto the scene she’s leaving behind as she walks out the door— Izuku, whose chest stutters with every rushed breath, causing the flesh of her fat tits to ripple, just inches away from a bloodied corpse. It’s so hot that Katsuki could throw up ‘cause of the heat churning her insides. She hasn’t felt this hard in years, it feels like her core is being swallowed in hot molten lava, and when she reaches for the strap inside her own bedroom drawer, it’s with a quiet oh that she sees how her hand trembles. Shaky fingers that grip its velvet bag with a squeeze, and the rhythmic racing trapped behind her chest.
The truth of the matter is this: Katsuki has always wanted to mess Izuku up. She’s always wanted to break her in and sort her out because it’s her fuckin’ right. Years of taking care of her, wishing her well while sitting on such big, grotesque feelings, so big that it threatens to eat her hole… isn’t this okay, then? It’s okay to fuck Izuku up till her brain is mush, right?
So Katsuki does.
Katsuki walks over to Izuku, stepping into the strap. “You’re so fucking useless,” She says with a lazy drawl, unimpressed. “Do something worthwhile ‘n suck me off.”
There’s something strangely mystifying about Izuku’s wide-eyed stare, arms trembling as she pushes herself up, marveling at the length of Katsuki’s strap. It’s fat and fleshy with harnesses that dig into Katsuki’s thighs— the kind of heavy weight that would break someone if it’s their first time.
But that’s kinda the point. Katsuki’s fantasized for fuckin’ ages about breaking Izuku in, wants her to take dick that’s three times her size ‘cause Kacchan said so. That gets her off so quick it’s embarrassing.
So Izuku kneeling prettily before Katsuki with damn near fear in her big eyes ‘cause she’s a loser virgin that’s never taken cock before… Katsuki’s lips pull into a grin, tugging Izuku forward with a fistful of green hair. Her cock swings heavy, smacking red, freckled cheeks, and when Izuku gasps, Katsuki easily shoves herself inside.
“Looks like you’re good for somethin, nerd?”
“Mng—”Izuku moans, mangled. All she can do it is take her and cry. Katsuki love seeing the tears fall from her pretty lashes onto her freckled cheeks as she thrusts deep into her throat. Each thrust yanks a garbling noise out of her.
Katsuki yanks Izuku by the hair with a mean snicker. “Nah. You kinda do suck, but that’s what I like about ya.”
Izuku’s so damn stupid, despite being covered in her own drool, runny nosed, she glows at the praise, half-lidded and lips parting with heaving gasps for air.
“Kacchan…” She begins, all dopey and smiley. “Really likes me?”
Fuckin’ hell, man.
Katsuki pushes Izuku down, and she lands on her fat breasts with a pained yelp. She kneels, using a thumb to spread fat pussy lips apart. “You have no fuckin’ idea, idiot. I’ll show you how much I do.”
Without missing a beat, she thrusts herself inside. Izuku pulls taut like a bow. A hurried, frantic pace is set as Katsuki fucks Izuku so hard she keeps inching up and away, so Katsuki’s gotta grab her by the hips to keep piercing her oozing cunt. Big green eyes roll backward, and when fat tears trickle down her red cheeks, Katsuki can’t help but lean forward to lick it off, leaving salt on her tongue.
“You’re the only nasty bitch who gets wet next to a rotting fuckin’ corpse,” Katsuki grunts past clenched teeth, lips pulled into a mean grin. “That’s why I’m the only one for you, huh?”
The words cause Izuku to glow like the sun, and it’s so bright Katsuki damn near feels blinded. Izuku blindly reaches an arm behind her, seeking Katsuki out until sharp nails sink into her wrists. It leaves burning lines into Katsuki’s skin, claws she never knew Izuku had—
Katsuki lifts Izuku up, her back pressed to her chest. “Stupid fuckin’ expression you got,” She grumbles low.
Like the fucking sap she is, Izuku twists herself at a dumb, awkward angle so that they can kiss so hard that their lips bruise, messy and breathless.
“Only—” She stutters, breath hot against wet lips. “Only you. And you’re mine too, right?”
Man, even if Katsuki could fuck off and be normal about another girl, she wouldn’t. She’s exactly where she wants to be. There’s so much to be done after this, she’s never had to clean a fuckin’ corpse before, but—
When she flips Izuku over so that they’re fucking face-to-face, Katsuki nearly blacks out at sharp canines sinking itself into her neck.
“Mine, mine, mine— Right? Kacchan?” Izuku’s sweet, panting voice tickles Katsuki’s ears.
Katsuki’s so fucked. She’s so, so fucked. It all ends here— she will begin and end with Izuku. So long as that loser fuckin’ nerd, that pretty angel with only love in her eyes keeps talking like that, Katsuki will forever be doomed.
“Always,” heaves Katsuki, as her and Izuku crescendo to a peak. “Always been, you shitty— fuckin— loser—”
Like a snapped string, Izuku comes with a high-pitched whine. Katsuki tumbles after her, the base grinding against her clit just right, and a shudder runs down her spine.
Heavy breaths pass between them, and Izuku uses this chance to pepper soft kisses.
“We’ll take care of this together, okay?” She whispers, hoarse. “Don’t worry, Kacchan. I love you.”
Warm hands envelop Katsuki’s cheeks, wiping away dried blood and sweat. Honestly, Katsuki has never felt fuckin’ better. She’s got a murder charge on the way, and all she can think about is how good it feels to be Izuku’s protector, sheathed inside her. If she really tries hard enough, maybe she can sink into her skin, merging them together as one.
Izuku, Izuku, Izuku. It’s a steady mantra that repeats in her head.
“Izuku,” She pushes out. “Love you so fuckin’ much. You can’t leave me.”
And Izuku smiles, so big and bright.
“I won’t.”