Archive of Our Own ^beta

“As shocked as I’m sure we both are that I’m the voice of reason here,”  Shinsou says as Deku squints in the mirror and struggles with his bowtie, “maybe the best time to finally try and ride Bakugou’s dick is not at a high profile Hero wedding. But what do I know? I’ve only been the immediate cause of public disaster an almost incalculable amount of times.”

Shinsou’s not wrong, Deku thinks, half distracted with his crooked tie. The public loves to hate him. Judging a book by its cover and Quirks and all. Shinsou licks that stuff up like dessert.

“No,” Deku says—

“I love it when you immediately dismiss me,” Shinsou drawls, laid out on the couch in a moon pale grey suit, the picture of ethereal elegance, “gets me real hot. Please, continue—”

“This is the perfect time to seduce him,” Deku says in full sobriety as he turns and gestures to his whole self. “I look my best—”

“You always look good,” Shinsou interrupts again, because he can’t not talk, ever. “You’ve just got weird Deku blinders on where you see yourself as fourteen and Quirkless still—”

“I don’t,” Deku lies. “Anyway, what I’m saying is, is Kacchan’s used to me in uniform or—”

“Or a walking gym advertisement, I know.” Shinsou moves to stand, lithe movements and ease to Deku’s jumpy rabbit anxiety. He walks over and straightens Deku’s tie, lips curved, voice low and warm and soothing. “If you looked hard enough you’d know he’s into that. The man is a terrible gay—”

“You don’t know he’s gay,” Deku whines, because this has been a circle of particular hell for years. The not knowing. The way Kacchan still keeps his entire life to his chest, even with Deku. 

“Have you seen how he stands?” Shinsou asks. Then, before, Deku can answer, “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. You’re telling me Kirishima and Mina’s wedding is your ideal day to make a move on Mr Explosion Murder because you’re all gussied up for once? Like he doesn’t know what you look like at your best and your worst already? That’s thin. And, like I said, this is bad timing. That’s coming from me.”

“No, but also—”

“I get so hard every time you tell me no—”

“Stop being gross.” Deku bats Shinsou’s hands away and considers himself in the mirror, the sharp black of his tux, the clean, fitted lines of him and nods. “It’s not just that. It’s—weddings are romantic. Weddings make people feel like they should get married. Like they’re missing out on love and passion and—”

“Are you talking about yourself exclusively or are you so delusional that you actually believe most of us aren’t just here for the booze and DJ? And to see Kirishima cry, obviously.”

Deku flashes Shinsou a shy smile in the reflection. 

“Come on, Shinsou. You know what I mean. Weddings are like special little bubbles out of time. People are in a mood. And, if I’m lucky, I can get Kacchan in one too.”

“Deku,” Shinsou says, placing his hands on Deku’s tense shoulders and grinning at him in the mirror. “Bakugou would get in the mood over you if you attended the wedding straight off of work, still in uniform, caked in blood, unshowered, with a black eye. This suit might be a bonus, but I promise you the guy doesn’t care if it’s your Hero suit, wedding suit, or birthday suit—he’s gonna follow wherever you go.”

Deku exhales with a bracing smile but doesn’t reply. He’s barely convinced himself at this point, but he’s desperate. 

Desperate for dick, yes, but also desperate to confirm, to know that Kacchan is really into him. Deku’s best friend may have yet to come out or even reference himself being attracted to men, but Kacchan is also the most emotionally gun shy guy Deku has ever met and he sometimes needs a life or death situation to actually take aim and fire. 

Or, in this case, a fuck or not situation. Deku will offer up a fuck in the most attractive, convincing package he can, and prepare himself for possible failure. Weirdly enough, he doesn’t even think this is enough to jeopardize their long term friendship. 

If there’s one thing of which Deku is confident, it’s the bond he and Kacchan share. 

Now it’s time to find out if their bond has enough space to accept a good dicking down. 

Deku and Shinsou filter to the lower level of the lavish hotel, the elevator crammed with coworkers and friends who chatter with excitement as the ceremony approaches. 

“Deku!” says Hayu Yuyu while they all pretend to be sardines in a can down the elevator. Deku vaguely recognizes her as Nejire’s girlfriend, a petite, relaxed redhead with a short, foxy haircut and a navy, fitted pantsuit. “You’re looking good. Sweaty. Why’re you sweating?”

“He’s mentally preparing to make mistakes,” Shinsou says, propping his chin on Deku’s shoulder before Deku can defend his own freaking honor. “What’s good, Yuyu? I haven’t seen you since the last wedding.”

“I’m good,” Yuyu says, sounding like she means it as she smiles past Deku to Shinsou. “Which wedding was last? I feel like everyone’s getting married like it’s some kind of mid-twenties loneliness crisis.”

Deku shifts from foot to foot and pretends he absolutely does not take this personally. 

“Nailed it,” Shinsou replies with humor in his voice. “It was Kendou and Monoma last. I was the best man, remember? I literally cannot believe Kendou said yes and it’s been, what almost two years? Monoma had to have asked her three times.”

“He’s an idiot,” Yuyu says peacefully, like everyone knows it.

“Yes,” Shinsou says, easily agreeing on one of his best friend’s character. “I think Kendou had him doing, like, Herculean tasks to prove himself or something. Good shit.”

The doors ding open and everyone gushes into the corridor, crowded and gasping for breath. Deku smiles weakly at Yuyu and briefly realizes that Shinsou kept her engaged so she wouldn’t dig into Deku’s business. His smile loosens with relief when he looks to Shinsou, who is already looking at him with a soft, knowing smirk.

“C’mon, big guy,” Shinsou says, waving him toward the elegant signage directing toward the ceremony venue. “Let’s go cry at a wedding.”

“You never cry,” Deku says as they keep close, filing between familiar faces and occasionally nodding in recognition. There’s something unsettling about seeing the friends he grew up with in UA, only to realize he hasn’t seen some of them in five or more years, so separate from his life as an instantly high profile Hero. 

“Aizawa makes me cry all the time,” Shinsou replies, low with insinuation.

“Oh my god,” Deku chokes off. “Stop. I can’t hear that stuff, it’s like corroding my precious school memories.”

Shinsou tsk’s as they file into the great hall, extravagantly decorated in black and silver and gold. Mina and Kirishima would have a night wedding, one that leads into a party due to end somewhere around the time sun rises. Deku already knows this is going to be one for the books. 

“I wasn’t fucking him during school,” Shinsou says, not even bothering to keep his voice down as they stroll toward the front of the room. The wedding arch is aglow with fairy lights, where several of their friends are milling around. “Since when are you a prude, anyway? You let Shindo Yo bend you seven ways from Sunday for like two years. You could have gotten Japan a gold medal for the gymnastics you were doing on that pole.”

“If you talk like this when Kacchan is around I am going to ballgag you,” Deku says with impending doom in his voice. “And that I’m real practiced with that after two years of Shindo Yo.”

“What in fresh hell are you two talking about,” Sero says as he approaches, all smiles and easy, slouched posture, his hands tucked into the pockets of his slimline black suit. “I feel like I’ve missed out on a lifetime of Deku tea whenever I catch you two gossiping.”

“I’m tealess,” Deku says with as little inflection as possible, even as he feels his face burn. “Consider me absolutely dry.”

“Crusty,” Shinsou agrees, nodding sagely. 

“Excuse the fuck out of you,” Deku says, aghast. “I am not crusty.”

“I was just following your lead!” Shinsou rolls his eyes as both Denki and Jirou spot them and approach as well. “You’re impossible. I change my mind, go get laid as soon as possible.”

“I plan to,” Deku says with a pout. Then, because he can’t help it, “Where’s Kacchan? Is he the only one with Kirishima right now?”

“Yep,” Sero says. “We got kicked out for making Kirishima even more nervous than he already is.”

“What’s he got to be nervous about,” Jirou says. She’s full-on bad bitch mode in a deep, royal purple catsuit that vee-cuts right down her flat chest to her navel, exposing the elaborate black and grey tattoos across her collarbones and sternum. “It feels like they’ve been dating since they practically left the womb. They’re the only stable couple we’ve ever known.”

“Are we entirely forgetting the year that Mina fucked like half of year three,” Shinsou says. He was technically supposed to be Mina’s maid of honor but ducked out when Mina’s older sister lost her shit over the perceived insult and threatened to wear Shinsou like a skinsuit to the wedding if Mina was so determined to choose her best friend over her sister.

So there’s that. 

“That was her gap-year,” Denki says with a shrug.

“You are absolutely going to have to explain that one,” Shinsou says with raised eyebrows. 

“You know, her gap-year from monogamy,” Denki says. “Like, when people graduate high school and skip a year to explore the world and work before they start university a year later.”

Shinsou is slowly licking his top teeth and Deku can tell he’s really attempting to digest this one. Denki always comes out with the most out of pocket explanations for things. 

“It was her gap-year of fuckery,” Sero clarifies, like this is reasonable. “Kirishima was pretty supportive, you know.”

“Sure,” Shinsou says flatly. “I was there. Mina was a hot fucking mess by the end of it. I’ll never know what either of them were thinking. The two of them had a whole tearful reunion in a fountain in front of a hotel and I had to haul their drunk, miserable asses home and tuck them in before the security came to pull them out. Worst gap year ever.”

“How did so much happen in school without me realizing,” Jirou says in a daze. 

“You don’t know the half of it,” Deku mutters.

“Okay,” Sero says, looming in with a smile. “Now I have to know.”

“Oiy, you fuckin’ gossips!” Kacchan’s voice booms down the aisle and, as if commanding the room with his mere presence, the lot of them turn to look. 

The vision of Bakugou Katsuki stomping down the wedding aisle with Deku in his sights, all decked out in a fitted suit with a gilded, deep gold vest and bow tie, is enough to make Deku pop a romance boner on the spot. 

“Kacchan!” Deku beams. “Hey, hi, how’s it going?”

Kacchan scowls at Deku as he approaches, his eyes briefly raking Deku from shiny black shoes to curly top. 

“You chuckleheads should take a seat,” Kacchan says, looking at the rest of their crew. “We need to speed this shit up.”

As if on cue, some music starts up somewhere and people begin to find their seats in earnest. 

“Do you need any help?” Deku asks before Kacchan can intimidate more guests through the power of his unwavering glare. 

“Sit down and enjoy the damn wedding,” Kacchan says, vaguely waving him off with a hand. “Already know you’re a sap for this shit.”

Deku opens his mouth to retaliate but can’t find the lie in him. 

“Good luck!” He calls out as Kacchan strides away. 

“What, am I getting married?” Kacchan hollers back, his big, brassy voice echoing in the hall. “Dumbass!”

Deku’s dreamy sigh is interrupted by Shinsou shouldering him away from the center of the aisle.

“Save the boners for the after party, my guy.”

“I’m in love with him, though,” Deku whines quietly, totally at peace with being both love-drunk and dick-drunk at this point in his life. Pining in denial was for his teen years. Now he’s a whole-ass adult and can bask in his inability to be vulnerable or commit to people he cares about, like a real man. 

“I know,” Shinsou says, sounding tired of him, and rightly so.

Deku heaves a sigh and practically throws himself into his seat very near the wedding arch, right on the aisle. In his periphery, some wedding guest sneaks a photo of him from their camera and Deku surreptitiously straightens in his seat, remembering his place and his image in the world these days.

Shinsou’s right. Even after everything, Deku still forgets. Still thinks he’s a desperate, scrawny fourteen year old at whom no one would look twice. But he’s not. People think Deku is important. This event doesn’t have anything to do with Deku, and even still he is a point of attention. 

Deku clears his throat and pointedly shifts in his seat, angling toward Shinsou and away from people in the aisle who may want to record him. Wedding photos of this event are going to go for so much money. Or clout. Neither of which specifically appeals to Deku, so he doesn’t really get it. 

“How much do candid photos of you go for these days, you think?” Shinsou murmurs, his entire posture at ease as guests continue to mill around and fully fill out the hall. Deku didn’t even notice that Shinsou had noticed, but that whole lowkey spy thing is his circus, not Deku’s. 

Deku brushes him off without an answer, then lights up when he notices Aizawa Sensei scooting down the line of chairs with a scowl, his entire frame too big to pass all the people in their row without generally disturbing them. 

“Hey!” Deku beams and waves a little. “Shinsou didn’t say you’d be coming.”

“As if I know all his business,” Shinsou says, checking his manicured nails, then spreading his hand out as if deeply inspecting his knuckle tattoos. F-U-C-K and L-U-C-K have recently been re-inked, bold and black. 

Deku rolls his eyes and aims a What The Fuck look at his old teacher, who merely heaves a sigh and slumps in the seat beside Shinsou like some kind of giant, well-trained panther. Whipped. Deku will absolutely never understand their hot and cold relationship, or their lack of relationship, or whatever the hell they’ve been doing for an entire frustrating seven years. The two of them are one of the few topics Deku puts the breaks on when Shinsou gets going over it. 

But it also means that Deku only allows Shinsou to give him a certain level of shit about his and Kacchan’s non-relationship. Shinsou is the worst for giving out advice he can’t take. 

Deku chews on his bottom lip as he sits back in his seat, glancing around and giving small smiles and quick waves to more classmates and former coworkers. There’s plenty of people he doesn’t know too. Both Mina and Kirishima are social bunnies and they collect friends like it’s their job. 

After some lingering mingling, everyone settles in and the wedding party begins to take their place. Kirishima is up there in an outfit similar to Kacchan’s, the both of them smart and sharp in black and gold. Over half a year ago, there was a huge blow out when Kirishima and Mina both realized they each wanted more than ten bridesmaids and groomsmen, and in an effort to not hurt anyone’s feelings in not picking them, decided to just pick one person each. 

Deku can practically feel Shinsou radiating malice when Kacchan walks Mina’s very pink sister up the aisle. He’s about to put a comforting hand on Shinsou’s arm when he notices Aizawa’s big hand dropping heavily on Shinsou’s thigh. His friend’s entire frame seems to deflate, losing all his steam, at least for now. 

Kacchan exchanges a few low words with Kirishima, close to his ear, one hand on his friend’s shoulder to tug him in close enough that his words don’t carry. Kirishima shoots him a look and smiles, all shark teeth and sunshine, before elbows Kacchan like a pair of roughhousing brothers. 

Then Kacchan straightens and stands back a step, his posture straight, his shoulders straining in his tux as he looks out to the hall. His eyes flit back and forth again and again, never lingering, searching. He pauses on Deku and one eyebrow flicks, the corner of his mouth quirking in recognition. 

Oh. Deku inhales shakily, returning with a larger smile. Kacchan had been looking for him. 

“Very platonic expression, that,” Shinsou mumbles. Deku elbows him hard in the ribs. 

The bridal music begins and the entire hall stands and turns.

Deku immediately starts crying because of who he is as a person, but Mina is literally glittering, her deeply low-cut, princess-skirted wedding dress seemingly infused with champagne glitter that sparkles and refracts light with every step. Mina’s eyes are entirely for Kirishima, who is also crying because of who he is as a person, and beside him Kacchan is making a very tight, angry expression which means he is refusing to broadcast whatever big emotion he’s going through. 

Mina lights up when she sees Shinsou and blows him a kiss. Mina’s sister looks at Shinsou like she’s already got the funeral home on the phone and is ordering a coffin in his size. Through the tears, Deku vaguely hopes that the two of them don’t interact during the reception. 

Deku silently weeps through the entire event. Shinsou must take pity on him at some point because he hands Deku a real life handkerchief and Deku absolutely demolishes it. Kacchan looks at him while Kirishima and Mina fumble through their moony vows, his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline when he catches the state of him. 

I’m fine, Deku mouths at him. Kacchan’s face runs through a series of expressions, settling somewhere between disbelief and exasperation and maybe, if Deku is being hopeful, fondness. Then he rolls his eyes and looks back to the concluding ceremony. 

There’s kissing and cheering. Clapping and whooping and the two people who everyone knew would make it, make it. In the kind of world Deku lives in, the next day is an unknown factor. It’s always been heartening to know that even if the world falls apart, these two will be loving each other until the end. 

“You good?” Kacchan’s voice makes Deku startle.

They’re in the sparkling, marble and gold hotel bathroom. Deku is gently wetting his face with ice cold water, trying to be careful not to mess up his styled curls. He so rarely puts in the effort, but he actually did today. Which doesn’t make a difference when his entire face is ugly, red, and swollen from crying like a twenty-six year old infant.

“Course,” Deku replies cheerfully as he snatches a paper towel and pats his face dry. “How was all that for you? I saw you get whisked away for professional photos. Did you manage to smile for even one?”

“None of your fuckin’ business,” Kacchan mutters, which, fine, Deku should have expected that one. 

“Ready to give your speech?” Deku says as he turns around and leans back against the sink with a gleeful grin. He personally helped Kacchan write it after he realized Kacchan was straight up ready to get a new identity and skip the country if it meant getting out of writing something meaningful to say out loud in front of a crowd. 

Kacchan’s flat look is answer enough. Of course he’s not. 

“Well.” Deku shifts from the counter and approaches, his lips curved and pleased as he adjusts Kacchan’s tie, their half-foot height difference more pronounced when they’re nearly toe to toe. “I know you’ll be exceptional,” Deku murmurs, looking up to catch Kacchan’s scattering, avoidant gaze. He smiles at Kacchan, slow and sly. “Unless you’re gonna go full chicken shit and disappoint everyone. Wooow, wouldn’t that be a headline, huh? Dynamite Ditches Duties at Best Friend’s Special Day! Give me like two more minutes, I could probably come up with a better alliteration that’s even more inflammatory—”

“Oh, fuck right off,” Kacchan snaps, jerking from Deku’s space. His top lip peels back in a particularly ugly snarl as he makes a show of flicking his wrist, putting on his cuffs, checking the gold cuff links as he quietly simmers and smolders. Low and sharp, he says, “I’ll nail that shit. Fuck you for thinking otherwise.”

Deku just rolls his eyes and grins as Kacchan storms out, on a mission now. 

“He’s so easy to encourage,” Deku says happily to himself. He turns to check himself out in the mirror and realizes that Kacchan never came in to use the bathroom at all.

Yes, there are speeches and maybe Deku cries more. And yes, there’s dinner, and Deku’s table is a riot despite Kacchan being seated at the main couple’s table, along with their family. And oh yes, there’s a free flow of alcohol as Deku’s table grows more and more rowdy. But anyone who knows Kirishima or Mina or both of them knows that the one thing they’re all waiting for is the party.  

Deku would be lying if he denied forgetting just a little about seducing his best friend tonight. He’s already a couple sheets to the wind by the time the party starts and the guests are free to mingle and dance and run amok of the glittering venue. He takes his first dance with Ochako, the two of them falling into an old rhythm of their younger years of clubbing on their free nights, riding high on the drug of shiny, fresh fame.

Ochako had been one of the few people who ever actively knew about Deku’s feelings for Kacchan. Mainly because she tried to blow Deku one fateful night and Deku nearly screamed like a girl when he realized what she was about to do down there. He’d quickly spilled his guts about how it wasn’t her, it was him, and his messy feelings for someone who didn’t look at him that way. 

And yes, it had also been Ochako who had questioned Deku’s sanity for those two wild years he had dated Shindo Yo, but that was. . .complicated. And Deku didn’t like to think about that whole hot mess. 

That aside, Ochako has always been a great friend to him and he is perfectly content to let her grind up on him in the first few heated dances. Soon, Mina herself invades, having changed into a glittering white bodycon akin to a slinky discoball and gets behind Deku, hands on his waist as he laughs and dances and gets sandwiched between his two hot, busty girl friends. 

Then Todoroki arrives, late as hell and harried and devastatingly handsome, fresh off a flight from some Korean mission, having changed into a designer suit and a single large, icy diamond stud in one ear. Izuku watches Shinsou unfold himself from the table where he’s been chatting with Kacchan and waltzes right up to him, all slinky smiles as he takes Todoroki’s face in both hands and closed-mouth kisses him on the mouth in greeting. 

Deku winces and looks for Aizawa Sensei at the bar. They’ve been notably avoiding each other—or, specifically, Shinsou has been giving his on-and-off partner the cold shoulder, and this is very obviously a ploy to rile him. From the absolutely apocalyptic look that drops over Aizawa, it works, and with ease. 

Kirishima bursts in between Shinsou’s machinations and hollers some kind of greeting as he envelopes Todoroki in a crushing hug, and soon Mina is abandoning her humping post at Deku’s back to go accost their friend too. Tipsy and walking a very thin line of poor decisions, Deku excuses himself from Ochako and approaches his old teacher with a weak smile. 

“Hey,” Deku says as he signals the bartender for a drink. After he orders, he leans his elbow against the bar and faces Aizawa, who is sitting on a stool, facing out toward the party, looking just shy of homicidal. “You know he just wants attention,” Deku murmurs, pointedly not looking Shinsou’s way. 

He’s much more accustomed to not giving in to his friend than Aizawa is, apparently. He can’t imagine how. Aizawa has always been a notorious hardass. What kind of hold Shinsou has on the man, Deku has never been able to fully fathom. 

“Kid, you don’t know the half of it,” Aizawa mutters, his low voice barely carrying as he speaks into his short glass of amber liquid.

Officially hooked on the mystery of the night, Deku turns to accept the simple beer he ordered and takes a thoughtful sip as he watches the scene across the bustling dance floor. Kacchan has joined the clutch of friends, his hand slapping Todoroki’s shoulder several times in a row as he leans in with a snarky smirk, clearly shooting off some goading bullshit that Todoroki won’t give a shit about. Kacchan has been trying to impress him for practically their entire lives and Kacchan would rather die than admit it, so instead everyone has to witness this eternal one-upmanship. 

Deku is so in love with how petty his best friend is. 

“He tell you?” Aizawa asks, and it’s so quiet, almost hesitant, that Deku has to stop himself from gawking with a double-take. Was this his fucking teacher asking for the hot gossip on his own boyfriend? Christ.  

“No,” Deku says, shaking his head. “I, uh, I don’t really ask. About you two. I’m not emotionally stable for whatever he’s going to say at any given time, I just know it.”

That gets a short huff of air from Aizawa, as close to an admission of humor as Deku is going to get. 

“I don’t hate you two together,” Deku says, rushing to correct himself. “He honestly seems the most stable and happy when you are two are, uh, doing whatever it is that you two do.”

Aizawa flicks a dark, indecipherable look Deku’s way, then back to Shinsou, who has one slim arm slung over Todoroki’s shoulder. Todoroki is updating the circle group of their friends on something or other, probably his trip, and it’s impossible not to tell that he and Shinsou are immeasurably more close with each other than the rest of them. Dating for the majority of UA will do that. 

“What do you think we are,” Aizawa says. The very question is shocking enough to threaten a heart attack and an early grave for Deku. And he didn’t even get to bone his best friend! 

“Oh, uh, I don’t—” Deku sputters, before shutting himself up by chugging his beer and letting his head spin with all the booze he’s already guzzled tonight. Apparently he’s going to need more if Aizawa Sensei himself is going to try and speak to him about his relationship with a former student. Deku cracks his empty beer bottle on the bar and aims another weak smile Aizawa’s way. “That is, he’s never really said. I mean, he’s never given you a label. I never pushed. I figured it’s complicated with. . .everything.”

Aizawa subtly nods, his gaze distant and fixed on Shinsou, a homing beacon of heat. Anyone within a ten foot radius would be able to tell that this man sixty seconds away from smashing skulls together. His absolutely ominous, if not remarkably restrained. 

“He wants to get married,” Aizawa says into his glass, mooning darkly over Shinsou, who is still draped over his ex boyfriend. 

If Deku was drinking, he’d have spat it half way across the room. Instead he just inhales so sharply that he chokes on his own spit and has to turn away to cough hard into the crook of his arm. With tears of strain in his eyes, Deku turns to Aizawa’s stoic profile. 

“There’s no fucking way,” Deku wheezes, his voice hoarse. “Have you met him? He doesn’t even want to wear a seatbelt! Too constraining. He’s lived in like eight apartments. He won’t even raise plants! All the ones in his home are fake. How the heck—”

“He’s fucking insane,” Aizawa mutters without addressing anything Deku said. 

“Wh—” Deku shakes his head, scrambling for some kind of sanity in this conversation. He is way too wasted for this. “He said that to you? He—he asked you?”

“When does he ever ask for anything outright,” Aizawa says, managing to rip his attention from Shinsou to eye Deku. His expression shifts, almost quiet, almost introverted. Entirely new to Deku. “Insinuated it plenty with this fucking thing coming up. The more I ignored it the more he got. . .you know.”

Deku smiles thinly. 

“Yeah. He doesn’t like being ignored.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to say?” Aizawa drowned the rest of his drink and signaled the tender for another. “Married—to me? He’s got a whole life to live and he’s too stubborn to acknowledge it.”

Deku realized several things in the matter of seconds. First, Aizawa can really put away the whiskey, but that shouldn’t be a surprise. Second, he is genuinely in love with Shinsou in a way Deku has never noticed in all of his years of keeping a healthy distance from this odd relationship. It is obvious from the way Aizawa looks at him, talks about him, even in frustration. And third, it occurs to him that Aizawa actually wants to marry Shinsou. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be so torn over what he believes is right versus what he wants. He certainly wouldn’t be here, acting as Shinsou’s shadow for the night no matter how much Shinsou ignores him. 

“I think,” Deku begins slowly, trying to find order to his words when they’re so slippery from a night of alcohol, “you should consider how dedicated Shinsou is to the people he loves. How much heart he has. How much he hates to show that heart to people. And how special it is that he’s showing it to you. Maybe he’s been hard to hold down this whole time because he’s scared you’re going to see the kind of person he can be when he allows himself to be dedicated to them.”

Aizawa remains silent with that for a while. In fact, they both remain at the bar together, each drinking a whiskey and a beer all the way through, watching the festivities before Aizawa finally speaks. 

“Knew you were my favorite student for a reason,” is all he says.

Deku can’t help but laugh, big and boisterous, the tension unraveling between their odd relationship. He grins up at Aizawa and his old teacher gazes down at him with a familiar kind of warmth that reminds him of UA again, of battles long fought and lost and won, of sitting at Aizawa’s bedside when he’d lost the leg, and how Aizawa had always protected him and been kind with him through it all.

“Hey,” Deku says, setting down his beer. He raises his eyebrows at Aizawa. “Come dance with me. It’s a slow song and it’ll drive Shinsou nuts.”

Aizawa makes a face and almost looks young, then. 

“Sounds awkward as hell,” Aizawa says. “Like dancing with my kid.”

Deku absolutely does not mention that Aizawa has been dating someone his age for the last forever amount of years, but it’s between them, and Aizawa’s cheeks may actually take on some color, and that’s hilarious and new. 

Deku laughs again despite himself, hooks his arm in Aizawa’s and begins to drag him out. 

“Then consider it a dance with your son!” Deku calls over his shoulder, laughing harder at the abject horror on Aizawa’s face. He pulls Aizawa into the center anyway, surrounded by actual couples, and finds that Aizawa is so tall that Deku can’t get his arms around Aizawa’s neck. 

Aizawa rolls his eyes and places a gentlemanly hand on Deku’s waist and holds his other hand in his large, warm one. They stand a very normal amount of space apart and Deku lets him lead, grinning like an idiot the entire way. 

“So,” Deku asks conversationally, his entire face tingly with booze and glee at the situation. “Were you planning to ask me for permission for his hand since he’s a dud in the parents department? Or—”

“You were a lot cuter when you were a quiet, nervous kid,” Aizawa mutters as he slowly turns Deku on the floor. 

“I was never quiet,” Deku says, beaming. “About twenty times more nervous than I am now, though.”

“But less obedient,” Aizawa says with a climbing brow. “You were an absolute shit show back then. Can’t believe I haven’t gone gray between you and Bakugou.”

Deku delights in another laugh and relaxes into the slow dance, finding himself genuinely enjoying this. 

“Be honest, who was worse? Him or me?”

“You, easy,” Aizawa replies so quickly that it surprises Deku. He must note Deku’s expression because he continues. “You were always going to do what you felt was best, regardless of rules or regulations. You were always going to save people even to the detriment of yourself. You’re the same now, but a little more careful with it. Seen enough people go down with martyr complexes and never get up again. That’s how it goes. But you never let up. Never stopped being the more intense person in the room. Bakugou spent three years chasing you.”

Deku didn’t know what to say to that. The execution of Aizawa’s words hit him in the gut. 

“Is it the same?” Aizawa flicks a glance over and Deku follows his attention, only to realize that Kacchan is standing beside Kirishima, utterly ignoring the guy talking in his ear for glowering at Deku like a summoned demon. “He still chasing you?”

Deku quickly looks away and feels his face burn.

“Um, I don’t think so. Pretty sure the roles are reversed now.”

“Well, just make sure you two don’t chase each other in circles for the rest of your lives. You kids deserve a middle ground after everything you’ve been through.”

“Oiy.” A very big, beautiful man shoves between them, Kacchan’s eyes hot on Deku’s wide, surprised eyes. “The fuck weird shit’s goin’ on here, hah? Take a seat, old man, don’t break a hip.”

Aizawa wordlessly looks at Kacchan with the impact of a reaper, ready to scythe Kacchan’s soul from his body. Kacchan’s bravado immediately cracks as he licks his lips and glances away, apparently unable to hold eye contact. 

“I’m takin’ this guy,” Kacchan says firmly, still looking away as he yanks on Deku’s hand and hauls him away. “Come on. The fuck you dancin’ with him for? You ain’t got better people?”

“He was a great dance, I’ll have you know,” Deku says, just to goad. He has a pretty good feeling that a good way to get laid by the love of his life will include a little bit of daring and some huge, ballsy moves. “Didn’t step on my feet once.”

“Shut up,” Kacchan snaps, not looking back at Deku as he drags him back to the bar. “When the hell’re you gonna forgive me for that shit?”

“I don’t know,” Deku says lightly. “Maybe when my broken toes heal from the trauma of ballroom dancing with you. That was the worst undercover mission of my life.”

“They did not break!” Kacchan whirls on him, but Deku just laughs and glances over his shoulder. His smile hurts his face when he sees a stormy Shinsou already on the dance floor, both arms slung around Aizawa’s neck, their faces close. Shinsou isn’t speaking but the mercurial look in his eyes says enough for Deku to know his work is done there. 

“Here,” Kacchan says, and there’s a shot being held out to him. Deku scrunches his nose but accepts it. The two wordlessly down their drinks without preamble. Deku sets his glass upside down on the bar and lets his eyes fall closed for a moment, his head briefly bopping from side to side as a sexy, liquid gold, bass-heavy song comes on. 

“Damn,” Kacchan says, and Deku opens his eyes to follow the line of Kacchan’s attention. Iida has got his shirt off, absolutely ripped like a god, while he essentially bench presses a lounging, laughing Mina over his head. “Is it that time of night already?”

Deku checks his phone and nods. There’s always been a certain time of night where someone sneaks Iida some alcohol and it’s just enough to get him taking off his clothes. This has been an inevitable conclusion since UA days. The guy cannot hold his liquor, nor can he hold onto his clothes. 

“Plus side,” Deku says. “We’re not at the time of night where the lesbians start macking on the gays.”

Kacchan sighs and leans his elbows back against the bar. His chest is presented forward, his shoulders back, one ankle crossed over the other, his slacks taut across his long thighs. He has lost the tie and the first two buttons of his shirt are undone, exposing a faint fuzz of gold hair peeking low from the collar. He’s powerful and stunning in turn. 

“I’m tired of making out with Jirou,” he says, like this is a weight he has to bear.

“I don’t know why she doesn’t go for Denki,” Deku says. 

“They’re too close,” Kacchan says, like this is a reasonable explanation for the entire mess. “Like kissing her brother, y’know.”

Deku imagines it must be like kissing Shinsou or something. No thanks. 

“Money on Momo making it with Todoroki,” Deku adds after a moment of comfortable silence. Kacchan scoffs.

“That shit’s not fair. He’s bi. Hasn’t touched a dick since troll hair over there.”

“You think Shinsou ruined him?” Deku asks thoughtfully. Just what power does Shinsou’s dick hold over these people. He’d dated Denki for like three months and the guy cried about it for twice as long. 

“Man, I don’t give a shit,” Kacchan says, scratching thoughtfully at his jaw as he considers the dance floor. Then, “Money on Momo, Jirou, and Todoroki, though.”

Deku snorts a dorky laugh and shakes his head, but it’s not impossible. Momo and Jirou are a deceptively freaky couple. 

“You’ll be lonely, though,” Deku says, letting his head loll back as he bites down on his bottom lip and makes a show of smiling slow at Kacchan, his eyes raking his best friend from his open collar to the subtle bulge in his tight pants and up to his mouth. “If the lesbians don’t kiss you tonight, who will? You gonna get needy without any attention?’

Kacchan’s eyes subtly narrow, his lax posture suddenly tightening as he shifts to rest one hip against the bar, facing Deku, suddenly closer than Deku can understand. 

“What?” Kacchan murmurs, his voice dropped low, secret. “Since when do you care who keeps me company?”

Deku licks his lips, his gaze flickering across Kacchan’s face. His heart is beating right up his throat. He could say it now. Say something. Say anything. He knows how to control a situation. Knows how to get dick when he wants it.

And holy shit does Deku want it. 

But this Bakugou Katsuki. This is his Kacchan. This is an everything or nothing kind of deal, and suddenly Deku is terrified. 

“Dance with me,” Deku says breathlessly, his chin tilted more when he realizes Kacchan has boxed him in against the bar with his body. No hands on him, no arms barring him in, but Kacchan has approached when Deku was busy up in his head. He watches Kacchan blink and frown, his head cock. Deku smiles and hopes it’s as charming as he can manage. “Kacchan. Dance with me?”

Kacchan’s lips part as if to speak before he presses them together again, his pale eyebrows scrunching as he simply nods. Intense. Deku’s heart thrums heavy in reply. 

“HEY, BLUNDER DUO!” Mina hollers from the dance floor. An absolute banger of a song is on and the space is packed with more people than the entire night. Deku huffs a laugh and shakes his head when Mina waves with both hands, hailing them over.

“See?” Deku says, aiming his smile at a still-serious looking Kacchan. “The bride herself wants us out there. Let’s go!”

Before Deku can think too hard on it, he takes Kacchan’s hand, their fingers linking as he rushes onto the floor, shoving between a sea of familiar faces to join their main crew in the center. Mina screams with glee and the music is so loud, the guests singing so boisterously, that Deku can barely hear her. But he beams and backs up against Kacchan, the frame of his body so familiar despite them never being in this exact situation. 

He makes eye contact with Mina, whose eyebrows have flown toward her hairline, a huge smile on her face as she watches Deku link his hands behind Kacchan’s neck and start grinding. Breathlessly laughing with nerves and joy, Deku lets his body flatten against Kacchan’s big, tall, hot one. Shifts his hips from side to side, his ass firmly against Kacchan’s crotch as he rolls and writhes his body to the music. 

When Kacchan’s hands slide down to firmly grip Deku’s waist, Deku gasps aloud with wonder, his small sound swallowed by the song. But Deku keeps moving, his head thrown back, only tall enough to rest it against Kacchan’s chest, the top of his head bumping Kacchan’s chin as they began to move in tandem. Deku reaches up and let’s his hands ruffle through Kacchan’s hair, then back down, down over his own body, feeling his own chest lower until his hands can cover Kacchan’s upon his waist. 

Deku grips Kacchan’s hands tight and rolls his body in languid waves, guiding Kacchan’s hands low on his belly to feel the shift of his muscle, the thrust of his pelvis forward until it curves back, his ass firmly dragging down a notable thickness in Kacchan’s pants. 

Oh yeah. The dance was a good idea. 

And then some stiff string in Kacchan seems to snap because he slumps around Deku, his chin hooking over Deku’s shoulder with a groan that is close enough to vibrate right in Deku’s ear. Elated, Deku can only tilt his head so it rests further back against Kacchan’s shoulder, their cheeks brushing, their mouths so close but not yet there as they find their rhythm, body to body, double hands travelling Deku’s body up and down. Kacchan has taken control from the bottom now, his hands firm and purposeful as they explore the length of him. That dick is harder now, feels huge slotting against the cleft of Deku’s ass every time he pops it back. 

And then Kacchan’s hand is on Deku’s jaw, jerking his head to the side. Their eyes lock and it’s hot, it’s the sexiest fucking look Deku’s ever been pinned with in his entire life. Takes his entire breath away. Weakens him right down to the knees.

Deku tips his face up. Doesn’t close his eyes. Offers his heart right up, his mouth softening, rising to meet—

Kacchan’s face twists up so briefly that Deku nearly misses it before he buries his face in Deku’s hair, mumbling something Deku can’t hear. But Deku’s disappointment is palpable. Sits heavy in Deku’s gut like a fist, nauseating. 

Kacchan says it again against Deku’s skull, his hands a suddenly bruising grip on Deku’s hips. Deku frowns and turns in Kacchan’s arms but Kacchan drops his hold the moment they’re facing each other, both of them unmoving in the center of the wild dance floor. 

Anger flares in tandem with confusion in Deku’s suffocating chest as he eyes Kacchan’s helpless, uncomfortable expression. 

“What?” Deku snaps. He’s scared. He’s so fucking scared right now. Is this the make or break moment he feared might break them? He’d been so sure about Kacchan. So certain that their time had finally come after all this fucking time. “What the fuck, Kacchan?”

Kacchan actually looks panicked then, which is so uncommon that Deku takes an automatic step in retreat, unsure. Kacchan’s eyes only grow larger and then he’s snatching Deku’s wrist and yanking him back hard enough that they collide. 

Deku’s face gnarls in annoyance to cover his fear, his failure as he tries to flail out of Kacchan’s grip.

“Stay with me!” Kacchan yells over the music. 

Deku stops. Stares. 

“What?” he yells, squinting at Kacchan as if that will help him hear better. 

Kacchan’s eyes are so unnaturally big for his face right now, plaintive as he leans in without touching Deku sans his wrist hold. 

“I want you so fucking bad, Deku,” Kacchan says, and Deku can barely hear him, but he can read it on his lips. Can feel the shock settle into his bones like the aftershocks of an earthquake rocking his world. Maybe because Deku doesn’t immediately reply, Kacchan tugs in Deku’s wrist and leans in further, his alcohol breath in Deku’s face as he yells, “I want you so fucking much, Deku. Let’s go.”

Deku licks his lips and nods frantically. Nods like forty times in a row until Kacchan’s familiar grin cracks through the panic and Deku can breathlessly smile in return. 

He turns and leads Kacchan out of the room. Fast.

“Bathroom?” Kacchan says breathlessly as Deku drags him through the hotel. 

“I’m so tired of fucking in bathrooms,” Deku mutters to no one in particular. 

“What?” Kacchan calls out, not catching it. 

“Nothing!” Deku replies cheerfully. “We’re going up to my room. Now.”

“But people will—”

Deku whirls on him. Presses Kacchan into the wall beside the elevator; gets up in his business hard, their chests sharing a frantic heartbeat, mouths gravitating toward each other, breath hot and wet and close. 

Their eyes lock and Kacchan is breathing hard, harder than he should be from just this, but his eyes are fire bright as they just stare at each other for a quivering moment. Taking each other in. Waiting. 

Without breaking any contact, Deku slaps a hand out to the side until he can jam a thumb into the elevator call button. Around them, this deep into the night, the hotel is silent but for the cool, smooth melody of piano music filtering through the ambiance. 

“Since when do you care about other people,” Deku finally says, barely a whisper of words, so close to Kacchan’s mouth. He tilts his head up and his lips curve automatically when Kacchan’s mouth follows, his face shifting to copy Deku’s movements, tracking him, maybe a little desperate.

“Kacchan,” Deku murmurs, his gaze flickering from Kacchan’s parted lips to the high color of his cheeks, to those comet hot eyes. They look at each other and it’s like breathing is impossible. “It’s okay to be greedy sometimes. To want something because only you want it. Maybe we should stop thinking so hard about what other people want from us.”

Kacchan exhales, his breath a tang of alcohol on Deku’s lips, their gazes unmoving upon each other. They’ve always told each other not to look away. Since they were stupid kids. Don’t look away. Watch me. Watch me!  

Well, Deku has been watching and now he’s not going to look away until he gets exactly what he has always wanted. 

Deku slides a hand up between them. Fingertips tripping over small, smooth buttons, savoring the heat radiating through the thin fabric, catching the race of Kacchan’s heart, and pauses there, splayed wide as Deku cocks his head and speaks quietly, clearly. 

“Do you want me, Kacchan? In any kind of way that really matters?”

The elevator dings. The doors open. 

Kacchan is still looking at him. 

“Come on,” he says. 

Then a strong, firm hand clasps the nape of Deku’s neck and he’s being unceremoniously manhandled through the doors. 

Kacchan’s hands are big and confident, a thrill racing down Deku’s spine as he allows himself to be slammed into one mirrored wall, their reflections refracted in every angle, over and over as Kacchan thrusts a thigh between Deku’s legs. Deku slumps with a groan and lets his thickening dick grind against the meat of Kacchan’s thigh, his head spinning from more than just drink. 

Urgent hands are scaling Deku’s body, gripping at his hips to encourage the roll of them, then tugging impatiently at Deku’s shirt, pulling out the tails to scrape nails up freckled sides, then wrapping around Deku’s frame, one fevered palm to the small of Deku’s back, pushing, encouraging Deku’s hips forward. Kacchan’s face is buried in the humid curve of Deku’s throat when the elevator dings and opens. 

Dazed, Deku blinks open his eyes and looks past Kacchan’s arm to see the same first floor corridor presented to them. Deku scoffs and smacks Kacchan’s shoulder.

“You didn’t press the button!”

Kacchan lurches away from Deku with such an affronted expression that if Deku’s brain wasn’t entirely in his dick right now, he’d laugh.

“Well, I don’t fuckin’ know what floor you’re on, do I!” 

“Four,” Deku stresses. “Four, go! Press it, press it!”

“Holy shit you’re bossy,” Kacchan snaps as he whirls and smashes the button. But when he turns on Deku, they’re both already grinning like idiots and reaching wildly for each other. 

They stumble out to the silent fourth floor, Deku giggling like an idiot as he makes a show of scooting just out of Kacchan's reach as they rush down the corridor. Deku yelps as Kacchan gets a hold of his sleeve, the thrill of play and simmering passion making him giddy as he half-heartedly struggles to escape. 

He lets Kacchan shove him up against the wall for a hungry, eating kiss of wide mouths and hasty, uncoordinated tongues. Deku cups the back of Kacchan’s head, fingertips gripping tight against his skull, and holds him in place as they devour each other in a kiss that is screeching quickly off the rails. 

“Fuck, you’re hot,” Kacchan moans against Deku’s mouth, his breath hitching and dropping into a plaintive sound when Deku catches Kacchan’s bottom lip and sucks. Kacchan makes a second, more desperate sound at the back of his throat as he surges forward with a harsh, wet kiss before bodily shoving himself from the wall and taking a breath. His eyes are garnet dark and devour Deku from head to toe as he speaks. “Shit. Shit. Deku, where the fuck’s your room.”

Reeling with Kacchan’s compliment, from the sparks Kacchan’s touch has spread beneath his skin, from the tingle of his lips, Deku remains against the wall and vacantly pats his pockets for his keycard. He pulls the card out and pouts at it with a squint. Okay, so maybe he drank a little too much. 

Deku looks up at the door opposite him. 

“That one,” he says, pointing at the door and grinning at Kacchan. He gets an eye roll in reply as Kacchan snatches the keycard and swipes them in. 

When Deku doesn’t follow because he’s busy kind of floating on the impossibility of this entire night, Kacchan whirls in the doorway and gestures with a dramatic, expressive hand that he get the hell over here. 

“You gonna fuck yourself in the hallway or you gonna get your ass in here and let me do it,” Kacchan snaps, like that’s a threat or something. 

Deku lights up and rushes into the room, kicking the door shut behind them.

Kacchan is on him fast. Has Deku’s mouth busy, all tongues, no finesse, just heat and rush and the surge of fire in the blood growing hotter as they tear off each other’s jackets, pull open shirts that send buttons flying, kicking off shoes as they grapple and bully each other toward the king sized bed. 

Deku shoves Kacchan to the mattress first and flattens a hand to Kacchan’s bare abs to still him when he snarls and starts to lurch up. 

“Wait,” Deku says, smiling and breathless as he starts to pop the button of his own slacks. “Watch me.”

That’s their thing, isn’t it? They’ve been watching each other for so long and doing fuck-all about it. Well, tonight Deku’s going to fuck everything about it. 

Kacchan’s mouth is red and swollen from their aggressive kisses, his lips parted with shallow breaths as he reclines back on his elbows and actually follows orders. His hands lightly flex on the bedspread, his knees thrown wide open, the bulge in his black tux pants considerable enough to have Deku’s mouth watering. But Kacchan is watching. He’s letting Deku do his thing. 

Chewing briefly on his bottom lip and dropping his gaze, Deku rolls off his socks and quickly straightens as he takes down his zipper. Deku hears Kacchan’s sharp intake of breath as Deku draws his pants down over the curve of his ass and lets them fall, revealing the simple, tight, cherry red boxer briefs hiding beneath. 

Deku’s gaze flicks up, his heart revving when he finds Kacchan’s attention rapt on his body, lingering and heavy where Deku’s thick bulge flexes against the thin red fabric. They’ve seen each other naked a hundred times in their lives, but never aroused. Never with the intention of checking each other out—not on purpose or with intent, anyway. 

Kacchan looks hungry. Starved. A little desperate from the way one leg has begun to bounce quickly, impatient, his hands bunching in the blanket, his cock visibly straining against his pants. A deep blush has worked up his chest, his throat, his cheeks, ears. There’s a discordant cuteness to it despite all of his sharp angles and broad muscles, athletic body and scars. 

Makes Deku want to make him suffer a bit more. 

So instead of dropping his underwear, he drops to his knees instead. Smiles wide and licks at his top teeth when Kacchan abruptly sits up with a sound of loss, his eyes wide, hands already reaching out to dive into Deku’s curls. 

“Wait, hold up, what’re you—”

“Ever fucked someone’s face,” Deku asks as he drags his palms firmly up Kacchan’s clothed thighs, then digs his nails in deep to rake down, the fabric dulling the brunt of them. Kacchan’s jaw drops, his hands still in Deku’s hair, fingertips twitching and tightening.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Kacchan replies after a breathless moment of shock. He quickly licks his lips and shakes his head, eyes cast aside like he thinks maybe he should have by now. 

Deku paints his palms up Kacchan’s thighs again, humming a soothing, poor-baby kind of sound as he unbuttons and unzips Kacchan’s slacks without making a whole thing about it. Honestly, Deku has wanted to choke on Kacchan’s cock since an almost indecent age. He has had a long time to think about it.

“More for me,” Deku says, his lips curved as he shimmies Kacchan’s pants down, encouraging Kacchan to lift his ass to help it along. Kacchan’s underwear is sleek and black and his dick is, without a doubt, fucking big. He’s packing. Deku always knew even before this, but the confirmation has his mouth watering, his own cock twitching, leaking, pulsing for attention. 

“Scoot,” Deku murmurs, distracted by the bulge as he takes Kacchan’s hips in his grip and urges him forward, closer to the edge of the mattress. Kacchan obeys silently, his breathing loud enough to exhibit just how he’s feeling about all of this. Together, their hands overlapping, both calloused and scarred, they get Kacchan’s boxers down, abandoned around one of Kacchan’s ankles. 

Deku may or may not go cross-eyed just looking up at the thick, long length of Kacchan’s cock at full hardness. For a brief moment, his confidence wavers because damn if he’s never taken a dick like this, down his throat or otherwise. But Deku is, if nothing, a sucker for a challenge. He grins up at Kacchan’s blow-out, hot coal gaze, and licks his own palm before gripping Kacchan’s cock at the base and testing a few slow, firm fucks into his fist. 

“Oh shit,” Kacchan spits out, the blush rushing under the skin hot and fast. “Shit, Deku.”

“Needy?” Deku asks, and before Kacchan can reply, flattens his tongue and allows himself a long lick from balls to crown. With eyes locked on Kacchan’s face, desperate to memorize each tell and twitch of his expression, Deku works up the spit in his mouth and swirls his tongue around Kacchan’s cockhead, tonguing at the slit and flickering against the tight bunch of nerves beneath the ridge. Kacchan is breathing hard enough to strike Deku with surprise and briefly, through the haze of mutual pleasure, he has to wonder when the last time anyone blew this magnificent cock. 

Well, all the more reason to make this unforgettable. 

Deku hums, hazy and drunk on the heavy drag of this big, weighty cock invading his throat as he tilts his angle and takes it down, slurping with purposeful sloppiness as he fucks his mouth down on Kacchan’s dick like this is his lifeline. Precum slicks up the back of his tongue and Deku moans with it, eyes squeezed shut without realizing it as he works the base of Kacchan’s still thickening erection with one hand while his other hand digs into the meat of Kacchan’s thigh, tethering him to reality, keeping him from simply floating off from this alone. 

Strong hands scoop into Deku’s curls, gripping with surprisingly delicacy that has Deku spinning out, a gentle touch something he can’t quite wrap his whirling mind around as he moans unabashedly, his lips puffy and stretched around Kacchan’s cum and spit slick cock. But it’s not enough; not what Deku promised, so he pops off with a needy groan, his own sound mirrored by Kacchan. 

Panting softly, Deku opens his eyes to the image of Kacchan all flushed and black-eyed, red mouth parted, his bottom lip wet and bitten down. He looks so fucking debauched by this alone that Deku wants to wreck him. See how far he can push him. 

“Stand up,” Deku rasps out, his voice husky and dark as he scoots back on his knees just enough to give Kacchan room to stand. He’s already got his hands on Kacchan’s hips, adjusting him as he pleases, the big dick of his so heavy it taps Deku on the cheek and smears a trail of cum that Deku instinctively turns his head to lick off the head. 

Kacchan makes a sound like a man dying and Deku’s own cock kicks up, straining in his underwear for attention. But Deku likes to deny himself. Loves to fuck himself over until he can fuck himself even better, so he waits on it. Right now Deku is all about making his own dreams come true. 

“You’re gonna fuck my throat, ‘kay?” Deku says, his smile slow and sugary sweet as he meets Kacchan’s dumbfounded gaze. He has never seen Kacchan so quiet, sans the incomprehensible, needy sounds punching from Kacchan’s gut every now and then. Deku cants his chin and runs his palms up Kacchan’s thighs, feels them faintly shake and speckle with goosebumps, and feels his own spine prickle with similar shivers in turn. “Just start slow, right down my mouth, and you’ll get the hang of it, big guy.”

“Who the fuck are you,” Kacchan replies faintly, his voice hoarse, his eyes blacked out with intense, burning desire as he abruptly takes Deku by the jaw and shakes it a little, loosening Deku’s smile until he simply opens his mouth and obediently presents the flat of his tongue.

“Fuck,” Kacchan repeats, barely a whisper, his gaze frantically searching Deku’s placid expression, his wide mouth, his tongue. Kacchan licks his lips, his chest stuttering for breath as he keeps Deku’s jaw in his hold with one hand and grips the base of his big cock with the other. He taps to Deku’s tongue and when Deku only whines and tilts his head back with a wide, welcoming mouth, Kacchan curses again, his voice shaky. 

Deku inhales deeply through his nose and allows his eyes to fall shut the first time Kacchan feeds his cock into his mouth. He doesn’t go the full distance and Deku is going to savor his air while he can get it. It’ll make the severe lack of it even better when it comes. Idly, Deku tongues the thrumming vein along the underside of Kacchan’s cock, leaving his mouth open, his teeth covered as Kacchan hisses and thrusts in with that endearing level of care once, twice, and again, only going a little deeper each time, threatening Deku’s breath bit by tantalizing bit. 

With a plaintive sound, Deku grinds his palm against his own dick, staving off the violent urge to go faster, faster, fuck more, choke deeper, come harder. There’s something so careful about Kacchan despite their initial start and it makes him want to watch Kacchan fall apart spectacularly. 

But they don’t have to go this slow. 

With Kacchan’s next thrust, Deku shifts forward, matching him, his eyes flying open with the first shock of the choke as that cock drills down his throat and abruptly back out with Kacchan’s sharp gasp of shocked pleasure. Deku gazes up at Kacchan with watery eyes and licks his lips, slow and deliberate. Clears his throat and grins as he scrapes his nails up Kacchan’s thighs and firmly grips Kacchan’s hips. 

“Fuck,” Deku says, dropping a wet kiss to the top of Kacchan’s leaking dick, delighting in Kacchan’s broken groan. “My.” Deku curls his tongue around the head, slurping it once and pops off. “Throat.” 

Deku settles back, kneeling with mock obedience, and opens his mouth again, his chin tilted to make the slide that much easier, and dares Kacchan with eyes alone. 

Too chicken to do it right? Deku knows his challenging look reads in its own language with how long they’ve known each other. 

And there, something flares to life between them. Unfurls hot and honey slick, dripping in the rising heat between them as Kacchan bares his teeth in a sharp, feral smirk. He reaches out with confidence this time, the pad of his thumb rubbing across the center of Deku’s tongue, working up the spit as he shoves his thumb back further and further until Deku softly chokes and moans, closing his mouth around it, sucking hungrily. 

“Who the fuck’s needy,” Kacchan murmurs, voice a dark velvet that rubs up on Deku’s skin like lightning and sparks, racing through him as he shivers with a thoughtless nod. 

And then that thumb is gone and Deku doesn’t have time to mourn the loss with a single sound because Kacchan is stuffing his cock in Deku’s mouth in one long, fluid motion. Deku barely has time to sharply inhale through his nose before Kacchan’s long, low groan meets his ears in time with that big, thick cockhead bumps the back of Deku’s throat. He angles his chin on automatic and, already dick drunk from the weight and drag across his tongue, goes loose and giving and greedy all in one. 

Kacchan must feel it because he hisses fuck, and Deku, and look at you, as he flexes his hips forward and feeds right down Deku’s throat to the hilt. Deku can’t even whine, can’t make a sound as he relaxes his jaw to take the wide base of him, his hands flailing out to grab and grip the backs of Kacchan’s knees for balance, grounding. 

They find the rhythm this time. Deku drifts, his tears wet and cool against his burning cheeks as each steady fuck into his mouth edges tears down his face. His lips ache as Kacchan moans throaty and low, one of those shockingly gentle hands lightly fisting in his curls, not even hard, not even enough to hurt, but the dichotomy of that gentle touch with the brutal way Kacchan’s thrust increase in depth and urgency as Deku faintly, fuzzily thinking it might be okay to come from this alone. 

Thick globs of sticky drool coat Deku’s chin and he can’t catch a full breath, his face and chest overheating, his jaw entirely lax as Kacchan uses him as a fucktoy, a dream come true that has Deku spinning out fast. He doesn’t even realize he’s got his own cock out, slippery and leaking and wet in his fist as he works it over, messy and without reason. 

Then Kacchan’s gentle hand is fisting hard in Deku’s hair, a shock of pleasure pain railing through Deku’s skull as Kacchan yanks him off his dick with an unholy growl. Deku whines, his face twisted up and needy as he sticks out his tongue and licks at Kacchan’s retreating dick. 

“Fuuuck, Deku,” Kacchan grits out, his teeth bared and as pulls harder. Leans in and wraps an arm around Deku’s waist to haul him up, holding his faint, flushed body against Kacchan’s hard, heaving chest. Deku makes a soft noise of recognition, needy for the heat of Kacchan’s body as he embraces Kacchan in turn, his face burying between sweaty pecs and the coarse, fair hair in the dip there. “Holy shit, man, what the fuck—” 

Kacchan’s just rambling now and Deku’s barely listening. His underwear is still half on, taut and just beneath his asscheeks, his cock out and mindlessly rutting against Kacchan’s hip like an animal. The relief is minimal but it’s enough for now, enough until he can get Kacchan on the damn bed and ride him into the fucking sunset, but Deku’s throat is sore in the best way and he can’t seem to get the words out in any way that matters. His body can speak for him plenty. 

So instead he uses his hold around Kacchan’s waist to tighten hard as he throws his body to the bed, taking Kacchan with him. Deku rolls immediately but Kacchan mirrors the move and Deku finds himself laid out on the bed, his arms and legs splayed with a breathless laugh of surprise. 

Kacchan crawls up between Deku’s legs, his hands streaking up Deku’s shins and knees, thighs and squeezing at his hips, fingers spread to encompass Deku’s notably petite frame beneath the wide span of Kacchan’s long fingers and hands. Their size difference catches Deku’s breath like a stupid little school girl as Kacchan looms over him, all broad shoulders and big arms, long legs fitting between Deku’s as they take stock of each other for a few humid beats of heart. 

“Who knew you were such a fucking slut,” Kacchan says with a smile a mile wide. He sounds and looks frankly thrilled about it and Deku mirrors his grin as he brings both hands up to cup Kacchan’s face. 

“I knew,” Deku says, bobbing his eyebrows up and down as he makes a show of leering at Kacchan from his pretty face right down between their bodies where Kacchan’s heavy cock leans its weight against Deku’s quivering belly. “You’ve always been the slower one between us.”

“Oiy!”

“Coulda be doing this forever ago,” Deku murmurs before he guides Kacchan’s face closer for a gentle kiss that probably surprises them both. A comforting warmth suffuses through Deku’s frame, a liquid gold that simmers but doesn’t yet boil. A deep knowledge of this man, in and out, and now beyond that. They’ve been watching each other for so long and now Deku can finally touch. He can touch all he damn well pleases. 

This is the thought that gets Deku boiling. Gets him squirming beneath Kacchan, his hips rolling up to brush their cocks together, and fuck, Deku’s underwear is still tucked beneath the jut of his cock, and he really shouldn’t have worn his tight fuck-me briefs, but they make his ass look like two cherry on the vine, so what else was he supposed to do? 

Thankfully, Kacchan seems to have the same thought, because as they devour each other’s mouths with increasing urgency, all stupid tongues that lick at each other’s lips and chins, teeth biting down on lips as they eat each other alive in big, sloppy bites as Kacchan reaches between them. Squeezes Deku’s dick experimentally once, twice, again until Deku is moaning into Kacchan’s open mouth, and then Kacchan is stripping Deku’s underwear down, muttering, these are fucking hot you piece of shit, before they tangle arms around each other’s shoulders and necks and swallow each other whole again. 

God, and their hands are everywhere. No fucking poise, no planning, no pacing this shit. Deku’s usually so fucking good at controlling the moment, at guiding his partner where he wants them in order to sap the most pleasure out of them and give it in return. But Kacchan obliterates coherent thought—always has, in every way, since they were kids—and Deku can’t control himself when he wants to be over him and under him and around him all at once. 

Kacchan’s no better. He hikes one of Deku’s knees up over his shoulder, pressing Deku’s thigh against his body in a deep stretch as Kacchan turns his head to lick and kiss at Deku’s knee, his inner thigh. His free hand has got both of their cocks in hand with one long finger between them, increasing the friction and hold as they leak over each other.

“Fuck, Deku, you’re wet,” Kacchan mutters, looking down between them and yeah, Deku gets wet like a girl, gets easily worked up and writhing, whining as Kacchan just stares at their cocks working together, slippery and glistening. Deku’s dick isn’t small but Kacchan’s is huge, the difference between them making Deku’s mouth water as he imagines that thing railing him through and leaving him fucked open and gaping. 

Deku groans and flexes his hips up, up, fucking into Kacchan’s hand as he blinks blearily at the ceiling and tries to hold on to one single thought.

“Lube,” he pants out, his hands gripping the pillow above his head as he frantically looks around and tries to understand his surroundings again. He zeroes in on the nightstand and some semblance of sense returns. “Kacchan, Kacchan, don’t wanna cum. Fuck. Fuck. Get the lube in the drawer!”

“Bossy,” Kacchan hisses, and his face almost looks plaintive, comically regretful as he gives Deku’s body a once over, their cocks in his halted hand, clearly not wanting to move. 

“Asshole, just wait until I get fucking bossy!” Deku snaps, his chest heaving as he feels his damn heartbeat in his dick for how bad he already wants to come. “I want your dick in me like ten years ago! Now!”

That gets Kacchan moving, scrabbling to the edge of the giant bed as Deku simply rolls like he’s in heat, shoving a pillow beneath his hips and presenting his ass out and up, waiting. He doesn’t give a flying fuck anymore how needy he looks. Barely cared before. But he’s not going to last much longer if they keep playing around savoring each other. Save that for round two when Deku’s dick isn’t going to blast off from a hundred teenage wet dreams come to life. 

Deku can feel the mattress shift with Kacchan’s return. The low, thunderous curse that punctuates the heady silence sends a thrill through Deku’s frame, makes him wet, makes his ass clench on nothing as he subtly sways his hips and lets Kacchan look. And the quiet stretches like that, sticky slow and sweet as Kacchan seems to look and not touch. Deku can feel the heat from Kacchan’s body against the back of his thighs. His hair stands up on the back of his neck, his arms, his legs, waiting. 

They’ve been waiting for each other so fucking long. 

“Please,” Deku breathes out before he realizes he’s begging aloud. “Please,” Deku repeats, squeezing his eyes shut and muffling his face into the mattress. “Touch me. Fuck me. Fill me up. Kacchan.”

A deep, broken sound rolls through Kacchan and over Deku’s skin like thunder, and then Kacchan’s hands are on him. Palming Deku’s ass and spreading his cheeks, squeezing tight, then tighter, a bruising, kneading grip of fat and muscle before Kacchan lets go and obviously watches the jiggle before he grabs again, rolling the firm flesh between his fingers and releasing again with a long, hungry groan. 

“Fuck, that ass,” Kacchan rasps, and he sounds like such a broken man that Deku has to smile into the blankets. “Been thinkin’ about this ass my entire fuckin’ life. Shit, you’ve got freckles everywhere. Shit. Deku, I—”

Apparently even Kacchan doesn’t know what he wants to say because the words dissolve into a plaintive sound as he rises up and drapes his entire body over Deku’s, just lays it all out, the heavy weight of him overwhelming and overheating Deku like a furnace. Kacchan’s frame and shoulders are so much wider than his own that he can easily place his hands on either side of Deku’s body and slowly drop down like a push-up, then further down until Deku’s sinking into the bed with a breathless whine, unable to squirm, unable to escape. Not that he’d ever dream of it. 

And Kacchan’s nuzzling at Deku’s throat, inhaling deep, licking at Deku’s blushing ear, then nipping, biting down the side of his neck and sinking teeth into the muscled round of Deku’s shoulder. The entire act is so intimate, so sensual and unexpected that Deku’s breath hitches, hiccups, a swelling bubble of a love long tamped down expanding up his throat and threatening tears as Kacchan sucks marks into his skin and uses one hand to firmly glide down his ribs, waist, upper thigh, gripping hard as he rolls his hips minutely, his long cock perfectly slotted between Deku’s asscheeks. 

They’re so close, an inferno of shared heat, both of them breathing hard, Deku struggling and failing not to cry when all he has wanted is to fuck and get fucked, not all this mess yet. Not yet. Deku’s not supposed to be showing all his cards tonight, dammit. Tonight is meant to be the tease, the first fuck, the carrot on the string.

But it’s Kacchan who has him immobile against the mattress, the heaving weight of him stealing Deku’s breath, leaving him powerless to shift back as Kacchan keeps up the languid, sweaty rut against the cleft of Deku’s ass. He’s not even in Deku and Deku feels like he can shoot off into the sheets instantly. He doesn’t even have enough room to get friction on his cock and it’s still enough.

“Kacchan,” Deku whispers into the sheets, his voice shockingly wet as he spins out, slipping from the last grip of self control he may have had. “Please, oh fuck, oh please, Kacchan, need you. Need it. Need me? D’you need me? Fuck!”

Kacchan groans directly against his ear and Deku mimics it in turn, all mindless madness as he reaches back and digs fingers and nails into Kacchan’s sweat-damp hair. Yanks Kacchan in and turns his head enough so they can share dragging lips and tongues licking tongues, breathing each other’s breath as Kacchan rears back just enough to grip Deku’s hips with both hands and haul them up enough to create an angle to grind into. 

When Kacchan pulls his hips back farther and the head of his cock catches on Deku’s frustratingly dry hole, they both cry out, and then Deku is releasing his hold. Shoving Kacchan away as Deku turns, babbling, “Fuck me, fuck me now, want that big fucking cock in me, wanna watch it split me open, come on, come on.”

“The fucking mouth on you, shit,” Kacchan whines, and he sounds so pathetic as Deku hungrily watches him drown his fingers in lube that the neediness would be comical under any other circumstances but this. Once Deku has a hold of his sanity he’s going to make sure to use his dirty mouth at every opportunity to leave Kacchan wanting and wild for him. Preferably forever. 

“You can fuck my mouth again later,” Deku says breathlessly, earning a hot, hungry look from across Deku’s spread legs. “Just—just split me open already. Don’t go slow. Fuck me stupid.”

Kacchan’s eyebrows jolt toward his hairline at that, a flash of something unnervingly stubborn in his eyes that Deku recognizes all too well. Their gazes clash briefly before Kacchan’s attention drops to Deku’s neglected cock. Deku licks his lips and reclines back on his elbows as he lets his legs fall open, loose and wide, welcoming. Hope flares in his chest as Kacchan reaches out with his lubed fingers, only for his eagerness to be instantly doused when Kacchan only trails his knuckles lightly up the underside of Deku’s cock. 

The feather light touch streaks through Deku like a whip crack. Harder than it should, brighter, more intense as he sucks in a sharp breath and gapes at Kacchan. Their eyes meet again, and this time Kacchan’s stubborn look is there with a smarmy fucking smile that has Deku’s knees melting to jelly. 

“When the fuck have I ever listened to you?” Kacchan finally replies. He licks his top teeth, his grin only growing with the mounting horror he likely sees in Deku’s face. “Yeah,” Kacchan croaks, his voice as fucked from feverish desire as Deku’s is. “Bossy little bitch. You’ll fuckin’ wait.”

Deku whines as Kacchan repeats the motion of his knuckles on a downstroke, the curl of his fingers nestling briefly against Deku’s tightening balls, then dragging behind them to press into the bundle of nerves right behind. Pleasure rails through Deku like a bullet train as he gasps, eyes huge, pleading as he watches Kacchan’s hand smooth back up with the same unconcerned pace. 

“Pretty little dick,” Kacchan murmurs, his attention on Deku’s wet, bobbing cock, leaking over Kacchan’s knuckles as he caresses them up the underside again to nuzzle against the tight nerves beneath the crown. His thumb catches a drip of cum and swirls it over the head as he licks his lips, watching, savoring every twitch of Deku’s cock. “You don’t have a clue how long I’ve wanted to fuck with you. Make you beg for it.”

And it’s really at this moment that Deku dizzily realizes maybe he has found a top who is as aggressively stubborn as Deku in bed. Which. At this very moment, Deku isn’t even sure if he’s happy about it because he’d really rather die than continue this level of light, unhurried torture. He really thought Kacchan would be a rushed, flashbag fuck. Instead he has found a fucking sadist. Deku’s going to cry all over again. 

“Uhhh,” Deku says cleverly. Currently his dick is weeping as much as he wants to, and with all the blood rushing violently south, Deku finds himself watching Kacchan’s slow, torturous moments while his body shudders, shakes, and trembles as Deku tries to remember words. “Um. M-maybe we—we could do this, uh, this part later. And like—fuck!”

Deku’s head drops back, eyes scrunched shut in open-mouthed glory as Kacchan smooths his middle finger around Deku’s asshole and pushes in, slick and easy, not an ounce of resistance when Deku is half-melted into the mattress already. 

“Look at you just swallow me up,” Kacchan says with wonder, his broken voice giving him away. He’s just as fucked up over this as Deku. Deku doesn’t know how Kacchan keeps holding out at every step of this thing. 

And then Deku doesn’t know anything about anything because Kacchan is fitting in a second finger without hesitation, a low, pained sound riding from his throat as if he’s getting off on this more than Deku at the center of it all. 

“Who’s needy, again?” Kacchan asks roughly, and oh god, oh fuck, he’s back, he’s shifting to loom over Deku, his free hand flattening against Deku’s heaving chest to press him back into the bed. Deku collapses like a stone, his eyes wide as Kacchan lays the entire length of his big, heavy body over Deku’s again. His hand is still between their bodies, a third finger teasing the sensitive rim of Deku’s clenching hole, circling and circling, slicking up a mess between them, his cupped palm putting pressure on Deku’s aching balls. 

Deku can’t speak. He licks his lips frantically, his attention scattering between those deep garnet eyes blown nearly black, down to Kacchan’s kiss-bruised lips, and back up. His heart is thundering against his ribs, riding up his throat where Deku swallows hard, his heavy arms rising to link around Kacchan’s shoulders, holding on, holding on and hoping. 

“Say it again,” Kacchan urges him, their faces so close, their noises brushing, heat radiating, Deku’s dick flattened against his belly with the weight of Kacchan’s torso draped over his. Deku opens his mouth but can’t find the words, just wants Kacchan’s lips on his, wants to kiss him, wants whatever Kacchan wants now, wants with a blind desperation that precedes any kind of control he lost along the way to this moment. 

“Kacchan,” Deku breathes out. His mouth is open, his lips dragging across Kacchan’s, the both of them tilting their faces to accommodate each other like they’ve been doing this forever. They don’t kiss but it’s close; it’s Deku dragging his parted lips against Kacchan’s open mouth, it’s Deku’s tongue dragging across Kacchan’s bottom lip and his teeth biting down on it, then licking again to soothe the sting.

They’re so wrapped up in each other it’s stifling, it’s surging waves of heat radiating between them as Deku cants his hips down on Kacchan’s fingers, it’s the blessed burning stretch of Kacchan’s third finger filling him, thrusting into him as one, fingertips pulsing against Deku’s prostate with a slow, unrelenting pressure that doesn’t ramp up or rub wrong, just keeps up and builds up as Deku shudders beneath the overpowering weight of this hard, unyielding man. 

“Need you,” Deku mumbles against Kacchan’s mouth. He’s delirious with Kacchan now, utterly relenting to him, helplessly welcoming the curling, unfurling white heat of the incoming orgasm beginning to tingle and spread through his toes, his legs, tightening his balls, stealing his breath. Deku gasps, his nails cutting into the slick landscape of Kacchan’s back, his hips hitching up, stilling, waiting—

Kacchan pulls his fingers out just as Deku’s entire body locks up in wait for the bomb and Deku’s eyes pop open, a plaintive wail burying in Kacchan’s shoulder, clinging to him and crying out as the orgasm tears away from him, denied. 

“Fuck youuu,” Deku moans, clinging to Kacchan as his dick weeps for release. “Kacchan, fuck, please!”

“Shhh,” Kacchan soothes, kissing Deku’s face all over in ways that are simultaneously calming and shocking because this is Kacchan, this is Dynamight, not some guy who rains kisses on Deku’s tear-stained face and—

Shoves his cock past Deku’s twitching, sensitive ring of muscle to slide it sure and slow without stopping, balls deep before Deku’s body can adjust past the invasive shock of it. Their moans twin together, loud and long, arms wrapped around each other, Deku’s legs hiked up high, his ankles hooked around Kacchan’s back. 

Deku feels split down the middle, stretched and heavy and full like he has never felt before. Never had a dick this long up in his guts, the heavy drag of Kacchan’s length lighting him up from the inside it with those first short, shallow thrusts, Deku’s ass singing with every lube-slicked friction of his rim clenching and sucking around Kacchan’s shifting cock slowly fucking into him. 

Ecstasy. The only word for it. Their limbs intertwined, the rush of the dragging tease and torture, this big, filling cock pulling out further, then snapping back in, the urge to fuck rising in both of them as their hips begin to move in tandem. Kacchan’s back to grunting sharp, short sounds into Deku’s hair while he anchors his arms under Deku’s armpits and grips his shoulders for leverage to properly fuck into him with bold, blinding snaps of hips and sparks that brighten and build deep in Deku’s body. 

And maybe Deku is greedy or needy or what the fuck ever, but it’s not enough. Not volatile enough, even when Kacchan is using Deku’s body as an anchor on which to hold as he fucks into him sharp and solid and deep, again and again. And if Deku has never used his Quirks in bed ever but he feels safe and accepted enough with Kacchan to hurl Black Whip from from on hand to wrap around Kacchan’s waist to fling him onto his back—

Well, no he didn’t. Deku definitely didn’t do that. 

“What the fuck,” Kacchan has enough time to say before Deku is lofting a leg over Kacchan’s hips with a triumphant smile. Ignoring Kacchan’s snarl of dismay, Deku backs up to Kacchan’s dick and takes it in hand behind him; gives a few slick tugs, all but salivating with how sloppy it is with precum and lube, before he catches on his bottom lip in his teeth and eases down on Kacchan’s cock real slow. 

Their twin groans cut through the sticky silence when Deku bottoms out, the both of them unabashedly loud, Kacchan’s eyes scrunched tight and Deku’s mere slits as he smiles down at the sight of Kacchan at his mercy. He holds his place, both hands splayed on Kacchan’s twitching belly as he watches Kacchan hiss out one breath and another, clearly struggling not to come. 

Deku wiggles his hips experimentally and can’t help but moan. Can’t help but feel stretched to the limit and stuffed full, his ass locked around that good, big dick and clenching, hungry to keep himself stuffed with Kacchan, marked and owned from the inside out. In their tumultuous relationship, they’ve left scars on each other. This is just one more way to prove they can’t exist without the other. 

Kacchan’s solid, bruising grip on Deku’s hips and outer thighs reels Deku back from the subtle rocking Deku’s been doing on that cock. Just barely letting Kacchan inch out of him, the friction and drag of each little shift sending Deku spinning. But he tries to focus, tries to meet Kacchan’s pointed, predatory gaze and not simply come from the sight of this man wanting him this fucking bad.  

“Move,” Kacchan says, his voice iron and even, the command ringing through Deku like a bell. “Show me how much you’ve wanted it.”

Deku doesn’t need to be told twice. Starts rolling his hips, all languid, shifting music and shuddering thighs, quivering abs as each increasing rise and drop onto Kacchan’s cock arrows straight against his prostate. Each exhale may well be a gunshot, thrust from his lungs with such a specific violence that comes from fucking himself down on that singular spot over and over again.

“Shit, oh shit, you’re so fuckin—” Kacchan looks like he can barely keep his eyes open, but he’s watching his own hands trail Deku’s body, loving on him, worshiping with each squeeze and nipple pinch and nails raking down his stomach. He licks his pinked lips, his hooded gaze lingering on Deku’s dick as he takes it in hand and works it with a growing fury, maybe rushing to the end because he himself can feel his own end coming. 

Kacchan’s fuzzy thighs are sweaty when Deku places his palms on them, arching back and changing the angle that only grinds and rubs him from the inside out that much back. He drops his head back, reveling in Kacchan’s hands covering his cock, his thighs, wondering over his body and searing sparks straight through him. Loses himself in the ride, in taking Kacchan’s dick as deep as he can, his thighs burning with the effort to sink down faster, faster. 

And then Kacchan is bending his knees, bracing his feet on the mattress. Deku slumps forward, his hands embracing Kacchan’s face as they moan into each other’s mouths, sharing sloppy, hurried kisses as Kacchan fucks up into him, fevered and furious, each thrust losing its measured force in the wake of something wild, uncontrollable, forest fire fast. 

Deku comes with a white hot shock, his own surprise at the sudden burn leaving him dead silent as his body convulses, his mouth wide and silent against Kacchan’s, before the second seismic shudder surges through him and he yells, nearly a scream, hoarse as he shoves his face into Kacchan’s shoulder and bites down on heavy muscle to muffle his wails. If Kacchan comes, Deku doesn’t fucking notice. There’s no fucking reason to orgasm this hard but it’s like nothing Deku can fathom as he rides the torrential waves of it and falls, falls for Bakugou Katsuki and the fire he brings in his wake. 

For the longest time, it’s dancing lights behind Deku’s shut eyes. It’s the sweaty rise and fall of Kacchan’s chest and the way their bodies stick together with cooling sweat. It’s the humid fog of Kacchan’s scent, all masculine spice and leather and musky sex stink. It’s the satisfying leak of cum seeping down to Deku’s balls, his ass aching and no doubt gaping to the cool air of the room, all raw and used up just right. Deku’s body shivers with the mere thought and he nearly startles when big, long arms embrace him tight, secure, safe. 

With a sigh, Deku snuggles in deeper, his curved mouth pressed to the even pulse at Kacchan’s throat. He’s still a little dizzy from the booze, delightful sore from the best fuck of his life, and elated with Kacchan’s shocking level of reciprocation. The combination has him both soaring and sinking into the tantalizing soothe of sleep. 

“Oiy.” Kacchan’s voice is brassy and annoyed. So, normal-sounding. “Don’t fuckin’ sleep. You’re nasty.”

“You’re nasty,” Deku shoots back, grinning against Kacchan’s neck.

Kacchan makes a sound of displeasure but he doesn’t release Deku from his hold and that says everything to a person like Deku who is used to reading Kacchan’s cues for more than ten years. 

“Shower,” Kacchan says, interrupting Deku’s drift again.

“Quiet,” Deku replies dreamily. He nuzzles his mouth to Kacchan’s ear and makes a pleased little hum when Kacchan shivers in reply. 

“For fuck’s sake.” Kacchan groans and sits up, sending Deku whining as he rolls off and flops onto his back with a scrunched face of displeasure. Their eyes locked and Kacchan only raises his eyebrows expectantly. “What, just ‘cause I fuck you don’t mean I’m gonna be your bitch. Come on, shitsnack, get that fat ass up and into the shower. Ain’t sleepin’ in the same bed as you stinkin’ like a porno.”

“I dunno,” Deku says, pouting thoughtfully and pointedly not yet moving. “I think I’m into it.”

Kacchan seems to eye Deku’s body wearily for a moment. 

“Knew you’d be a freak,” is all Kacchan says before he gets up and pads to the ostentatious bathroom.

Deku sits up sharply and gapes after him. 

“Hey!” He stumbles off the bed and makes an embarrassing sound as his legs nearly give out from under him. Catching himself with one hand on the mattress, Deku finds his footing and follows. “Are you complaining? Is that a complaint? You haven’t even seen me freaky yet. This is a starter course. A vanilla appetizer. You didn’t even get to choke me yet!”

“You always this yappy after a fuck?” Kacchan asks as he steps into the glass paneled shower. There’s two showerheads, one from the wall and one directly above, like a rainfall. Fancy. 

“Well maybe I’m a little nervous because I just fucked my best friend and he’s running away to wash off the stink of me,” Deku mutters as he follows, speaking still as he shuts his eyes and lifts his face to the rainfall shower. “You’re like never calm about anything but you’re pretty dang calm right now, and I don’t know how to read that—”

“Hey.” Kacchan’s big hand cups the nape of Deku’s neck, calloused and heavy. Their eyes meet in the rising steam. Kacchan’s hair stains deep bronze, all slicked back and wet. His eyes are remarkably calm and stable to Deku’s humming nerves. “Look at me. I look freaked out? Pissed off? Surprised, even?”

Deku mutely shakes his head, unsure of where his voice has gone. Kacchan’s flashes a smirk, a brief reveal of pretty teeth as he squeezes Deku’s neck once and nods. 

“So, I’m too old to lose my shit over this. For the first time in forever it feels like I’m doin’ something for myself. Maybe I’ll get weird about it later, but I dunno. This whole thing. . .” Kacchan smooths his slippery hand down Deku’s shoulder, his arm, grips his wrist and pulls Deku in with surprising gentleness. Takes Deku’s waist in both hands and keeps him in place as Deku is forced to look up at him in wonder, his gaze flickering frantically across Kacchan’s features, searching. Kacchan cocks his head, considering Deku in return. “This whole thing feels kinda like the next step with us, don’t it? We’ve already been everything else to each other. What was next?”

Deku’s sure his jaw drops. If there has ever been a declaration from Bakugou Katsuki, it’s this, right here in the fucking shower. 

Deku swallows hard, searching for the right words. 

“Okay,” he croaks out. “Well, I’m—I wanna suck your dick so bad right now.”

Kacchan’s sudden smile is absolutely everything. 

“You’re such a fuckin’ freak. I love it.”

Katsuki and Deku drag their mangled corpses to brunch the next morning. Everyone looks as bad as each other. Mina and Kirishima show no signs of having gone to sleep at all, with the bride still in her mini dress and the groom in his slacks, the white undershirt he’d worn underneath, and a pair of obnoxiously red Nikes that are so ugly they have to have come from the depths of hell. 

Not many people even made it to the meal, but it’s a buffet and neither Deku nor Katsuki would ignore that amount of free food. 

“We need to carbo load,” Deku says as they set two plates each at their table places. A stack of three full sized waffles waits on one plate alone. Katsuki eyes them dubiously.

“The fuck is a carbo load,” Katsuki mumbles into his cup of coffee. He estimates he’s only about forty percent conscious and functioning, considering they fucked like the world was going to end and then slept maybe two hours. Deku has drained him in every way possible. 

Meanwhile, Deku is glowing like he exists solely on dick and cum for nutrients, because that is the only possible explanation Katsuki can imagine for being so fucking beautiful under the circumstances. 

“You eat like three days worth of carbs in one go so you can fuck without losing consciousness,” Deku says, like this is a totally reasonable explanation. 

Katsuki wants to argue. He really wants to argue with this, because it’s both heinous and ingenious and Deku is such a weird little freak in the most unexpected ways. Katsuki has always assumed—read: hoped—that Deku is a nasty, energetic nutcase in the sack, but he’d never anticipated to what level. Katsuki is fairly sure he met God last night and he has green hair.

Anyway, Katsuki really wants to argue on the principle of the thing. But in the end, he eats everything Deku puts in front of him and doesn’t say a goddamn word.

Halfway through the meal, Shinsou and Aizawa arrive and bring their plates to their table. The two of them look really fucking cozy which creeps Katsuki out as much as it comforts him to know there doesn’t look to be future boyfriend bullshit on the horizon for them. Thanks to Deku stonewalling Shinsou out in terms of relationship talk, Shinsou has been coming to Katsuki to bitch and moan for years. Deku doesn’t even fucking know the hassle Katsuki goes through for that romantically starved dumbass. 

Todoroki and Iida join eventually and at least Iida is wearing clothes again. Kirishima and Mina’s table has been full from the start and the both of them continue to hold court as if they’re not hanging onto consciousness by a string. 

The more people join brunch, the more tense Katsuki gets at Deku’s side. It’s not that he’s embarrassed. He’s not. It’s not that he’s freaking out. He’s not. 

Katsuki wants Deku alone.

The world has had Deku for more than a decade. Katsuki has been sharing him with the public for so long. Their victories and failures, their blood and guts, their entire careers on film, recorded for an eternity of eyes and opinions.

Katsuki just wants Midoriya Izuku behind closed doors before the world tries to bust through the lock on the relationship. 

And Deku with his stupid, big knowing eyes must sense something because his hand covers Katsuki’s thigh beneath the table and gently squeezes. Katsuki dares a quick, fleeting look to Deku and finds him already looking, already present to what’s going on. 

“We’re going to bring the rest of our food upstairs,” Deku suddenly announces with a smile. 

“What,” Todoroki says with a frown, looking between the two of them. “You two together? Also it’s against the rules to take hotel food to your room.”

“Oh my god,” Katsuki says with an eye roll as he drags his chair back and stands. “We’re carbo loading you idiot. Fuck off.”

“What’s carbo loading?” Todoroki asks curiously. 

But Katsuki is already walking out of the dining room with a plate of food in either hand. He vaguely hears Deku explaining and Katsuki figures that's enough of a way for their relationship to come out than anything. 

Deku meets him at the elevators, beaming at Katsuki like he has won the lottery. Katsuki can feel his cheeks burn.

“Shut up and push the damn button,” he mutters, staring pointedly at the glossy doors. 

“I love you too,” Deku says happily as he presses the button. 

Katsuki drops the plates and the elevator can’t come fast enough.