Work Text:
Fic art by me — a teaser for later in the photoshoot! 📸💥💚 Story begins below.
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The studio lights stabbed at Katsuki's corneas. Another Tuesday, another damn PR circus. But this time, the air thrummed with an unsettling feeling. He was accustomed to recognizing danger, but this felt like the prickling sense of being seen, stripped bare before the camera's relentless gaze.
Katsuki wrenched his gauntlets tighter, the click-clack of buckles only increasing his irritation. Around them, assistants in black suits darted across the set like startled ants, their shadows stretching grotesquely under the overhead lights. The smell of the studio was nauseatingly sweet as if flowers were blooming within the air vents.
"Dynamight, Deku! Perfect timing!"
The photographer appeared from behind an enormous camera, his silver hair glinting beneath the studio lights. Honda Ryo was 38 years old and a former war photographer turned hero chronicler. The man had literally dodged gunfire to get shots of Hawks during an early Kyushu uprising. His ‘No Heroes Harmed’ clause was legendary in the industry, though Katsuki noted the contract conspicuously said nothing about dignity.
Up close, Honda was all edges with sharp cheekbones and an even sharper smile. Katsuki had expected some pretentious designer type, but Honda was dressed in a relaxed top and loose slacks like a wolf in sheep's clothing.
"I've been following your battles since the start of the final war." Honda's gaze flicked between them, intrigued. "The way you two move together... it's like watching a dance of destruction and creation."
The nerd’s knee hadn’t stopped bouncing since they arrived. He didn't seem quite scared or nervous, but there was a wired energy he got when analyzing a fight from numerous angles at once. Katsuki could practically see the equations scrolling behind those green eyes. The camera's settings versus the lighting angles in relation to the studio equipment. Hell, he was probably calculating the damn Fibonacci sequence of their poses.
Izuku’s hero costume clung to his body. It was sleeker and far more tactical than any previous costume he'd owned due to its countless number of upgrades to mimic One For All's capabilities. The reinforced panels were catching the light, accentuating every dip and curve of his muscles. Tactical, his ass. The latest edition looked like it had been designed by someone who’d studied ancient Greek armor and decided but make it distracting.
Katsuki’s jaw tightened. Focus, dumbass. Not the time.
"Listen up, Picasso," Katsuki snarled, jabbing a finger at Honda. "Action shots. Five poses, max. No ‘artsy’ bullshit, no ‘staring off into the distance.’ We’re heroes, not goddamn influencers."
Honda's laugh was shrill and insanely infuriating, grating against Katsuki's nerves. "Oh, Dynamight. By the end of this, you’ll be begging for my ‘artsy bullshit.’"
Izuku dug his fingers into Katsuki’s forearm in a silent gesture to stand down. "We agreed to this, Kacchan," he murmured. "It’s just a few shots. How bad could it be?"
Bad, Katsuki thought, staring at the disaster-zone set behind them: twisted rebar, fake rubble, and smoke machines coiled like sleeping dragons. Beyond selling just simple heroics in his magazine pieces, Honda was also selling them. The sweat, the scars, and the stupid way Deku’s breath stuttered when they stood too close.
Honda's smile turned knife-sharp, his gaze glancing between them like he was dissecting their every twitch. "I don’t want just explosions and backflips. I want this." He swung his arm between them. "The way you move together so effortlessly. The way Deku flinches just before you swear like he's anticipating it."
Izuku’s elbow jabbed Katsuki’s ribs to get him to stop scowling and pay attention. "Kacchan," he muttered, eyes averting to Honda’s expectant stare.
The damn bastard was too observative for his own good.
Katsuki’s gaze dragged to Izuku, which was clearly the wrong move. The nerd’s cheeks were pink as a fucking cherry blossom, his teeth sunk into his lower lip. Twenty plus years of shared history enveloped the silence as he stared deeply into those emerald eyes. His memories flooded with the grassy riverbank of their childhood, late evening sparring sessions, and that recent time Deku had patched him up after a mission with fingers trembling on his bare skin.
Tch. Like Katsuki needed reminding. He knew this was another damn fiasco where they’d peel off layers until everyone saw the ugly, tender shit underneath.
"Fine," he growled. "But keep your ‘artistic vision’ the hell away from my pants. You got that?"
Honda's grin was all teeth. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
The first shots were deceptively simple. Katsuki carved arcs through the air on explosions while Izuku's Blackwhip cables sliced through the artificial smoke like severed power lines, the current whipping through them. Honda moved around them, quick as a sniper, capturing moments most never got to see:
The microscopic twitch of Katsuki's fingers one millisecond before detonation.
*Click*
The way Izuku's pupils dilated mid-air when their eyes met.
*Click*
The electric crackle between them that had nothing to do with their quirks.
*Click*
"Beautiful!" Honda's camera clicked like a metronome of doom. "For our next shot, Deku, I want you to catch Dynamight mid-explosion. Trust fall style."
"Trust fall?" Katsuki's voice dropped low. "I don't fucking do trust falls."
Izuku stepped closer, his shadow merging with Katsuki's under the harsh lights. "You trust me though," he said softly, and that was the problem.
Because he did.
The realization detonated in Katsuki's chest as Izuku's cables snaked around his waist.
Then—
Freefall.
Katsuki launched backward, letting his explosions die mid-air in a move that went against every instinct honed since he'd first received his quirk. For one terrifying, exhilarating second, there was nothing but the rush of wind and the certainty of impact.
The world snapped into hyperfocus:
Their bodies colliding hard enough to bruise, the force of it sending Katsuki’s head snapping back over Izuku's shoulder.
*Click*
The shuddering gasp that knocked out of Izuku's lungs against Katsuki's throat.
*Click*
Izuku’s cables tightening as he pulled Katsuki into a curve, his spine a crescent and his body pulled taut.
*Click*
"HOLD THAT!" Honda's voice sounded miles away.
Katsuki's back arched in the air, Izuku's cables tightening around him. Every point of contact burned. Izuku's callused palms slid under the top of Katsuki's hero costume, their hips pressed flush as Izuku lowered him and the panels of Izuku's support gear rubbed against Katsuki's thigh.
"Perfect," Honda breathed, *click, click, click* going straight to Katsuki's last nerve. "You can taste twenty years of chemistry in this shot."
Katsuki jerked away like he'd been shocked. His heart hammered against his ribs. It's just adrenaline, he told himself, just the fucking stunt—
Bullshit.
Izuku's hands had lingered, and now his lips were parted just enough that Katsuki could see the pink flash of his tongue as he panted.
Honda clapped like a demon summoning chaos. "That's a wrap on explosions! Next up," his smile turned vicious, "Let's try something more intimate."
Honda was already directing his assistants to rip apart their carefully constructed reality. The harsh studio lights dimmed to a honey-gold, transforming the disaster zone into something dangerously close to a bedroom set. The rubble was replaced with a luxurious couch that had no damn business looking that expensive, its surface brightly gleaming under the lights.
"I want to capture the heart behind the heroics," Honda purred, adjusting his lens. "The quiet moments between battles. The way you two orbit each other even at rest." He pointed to a clothing rack that had materialized like a nightmare. There were tank tops with scandalous rips and holes, jeans that would surely show off every muscle and curve, and one shredded and entirely debauched piece of cloth that was a crime against humanity. How the hell do you even wear that thing?
"You want us to what now?" Katsuki's voice could have flash-frozen the sun.
"Strip, essentially," Honda said with the calm of a man who apparently enjoyed stepping on landmines. "Your costumes are brilliant, but they're emotional barriers. I want skin. I want vulnerability."
Izuku was already caressing a fabric sleeve between his fingers. That traitorous nerd. "It's about authenticity, Kacchan," he said, voice oddly breathless. "Heroes are people first, right?"
Die.
The changing area was a curtain thinner than Katsuki's patience. Every rustle of fabric from Izuku's side seared itself into Katsuki's eardrums between the sound of his zipper dropping and the stifled gasp when cold air hit his bare skin.
Katsuki ripped his shirt off, muscles flexing in the mirror he was absolutely not using to sneak glances at Deku's figure through the curtain gaps. Without One for All, Izuku had rebuilt himself from the ground up. His arms were lean and muscular, and he had a waist that tapered into heart-stopping hips, and thighs that could crush a man's—
FOCUS! SHITTY HAIR AND PINKY WOULD BE LAUGHING THEIR ASSES OFF RIGHT NOW! AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON DUNCE FACE OR—
"Kacchan, are you okay in there?" Izuku's voice skated up Katsuki's spine like an electric bolt. "You've been growling at your shirt for two minutes."
"Fucking peachy." He roughly pulled over a plain black tee, then audibly choked when he emerged to find Izuku had chosen a white tank top that should be illegal.
The fabric molded itself to every angle of his torso, the neckline dipping low enough to reveal the shadow of his collarbone. His arms were bare and battle-scarred, the muscles shifting tantalizingly. And the jeans... oh damn it, the jeans—
"Fuck." The word escaped between Katsuki's teeth.
"Language," Izuku murmured without conviction, his eyes dragging down Katsuki's body intensely. His throat bobbed. "You look... good."
GOOD? GOOD?! WHAT KIND OF BULLSHIT ADJECTIVE WAS—
"Exquisite," Honda corrected. His camera clicked, capturing the way Katsuki's fingers inched toward Izuku's hip, their parted lips, the few inches of space between them.
"Now." Honda grinned. "Let's start with back-to-back. And Dynamight? Try not to combust. We're flammable here."
Katsuki scowled and rolled his eyes rather than following through with the explosion that was already sparking in his palm from Honda's mind-numbing annoyance. They positioned themselves as directed, spines pressed together in a way that made every one of Katsuki's nerve endings scream. The heat of Izuku's body bled through their thin shirts like blazing flames, intense and impossible to ignore.
"Bring your heads closer," Honda directed, circling them like a vulture. "Deku, tilt back slightly. That's it, right against his shoulder."
Izuku's curls brushed Katsuki's neck as he complied, sending jolts down his spine. "I can feel your pulse Kacchan... how fast your heart is beating," Izuku whispered, breath ghosting over Katsuki's ear.
"It's your fucking imagination," Katsuki gritted out, hands flexing at his sides.
"Dynamight, why are you sweating?" Honda's voice dripped with faux innocence as his camera shutter went wild.
"IT'S THE GODDAMN LIGHTS—" Katsuki snarled, voice cracking embarrassingly.
Izuku's quiet "Liar" resounded against Katsuki's shoulder blade, smug as hell and warm enough to make his knees weak.
"Perfection," Honda sighed, snapping another dozen shots of Katsuki's furious blush. "I want you to face each other but stay close. As close as you can without touching."
They turned, and suddenly Katsuki was drowning in green. Izuku stood close enough that Katsuki could count the freckles cascading his cheeks, see the studio lights flitting about in his eyes, and watch his tongue dart out to wet parted lips. The world honed in on the space between them, rumbling like the moment before thunder boomed.
"This is..." Izuku began, voice thick.
"Yeah," Katsuki agreed tersely because anything more would betray the wildfire in his heart.
Honda's camera clicked repeatedly as he captured every microexpression. It took in the way Katsuki's eyes flicked to Izuku's mouth and how Izuku's fingers shook like he wanted to reach out.
"Next," Honda interrupted their silent conversation, "we'll move on to something more..." His paused. "Interactive. Deku, sit between Dynamight's legs against the wall."
Katsuki's brain short-circuited. "Not fucking happening!"
Izuku placed a hand against Katsuki's chest without saying a word and fixed him with a deep set gaze. He watched Katsuki's face cycle through about five different expressions before landing on fury.
"Hey, you damn nerd! What the hell do you think you're—"
Izuku was already pushing Katsuki back toward the wall and sliding them both down as Katsuki protested. He settled between his spread thighs with a quiet sigh. His back pressed firm against Katsuki's chest, warmth radiating through both layers of clothing.
"Damn it," Katsuki breathed before he could stop himself, hands hovering awkwardly near Izuku's shoulders.
Honda smirked. "Focus on each other. Don't think about the camera."
Izuku tilted his head back, eyes liquid and dark in the low light. "Kacchan," he murmured.
The sound punched through Katsuki's ribs, leaving him breathless. He couldn't look away from Izuku's mouth, couldn't stop the gravitational pull dragging him closer. Inches became centimeters became—
"And that's a wrap on this setup!" Honda announced cheerfully, and they sprang apart like two magnets with identical poles.
Honda scrolled through the images on his camera with a smirk. "These are going to break the internet."
Katsuki's hands trembled with tension as he shoved away from the wall, while Izuku stumbled to his feet. They stood there, chests heaving, staring at each other with the startling realization of how physically close in proximity they'd just been.
"That was..." Izuku began, his voice sounding rugged.
"Don't start." Katsuki warned, but it came out hoarse and wrecked, like he'd been screaming for hours.
Honda, the bastard, was already adjusting lights like he hadn't just witnessed a near-homicidal sexual tension incident. "Now, for the pièce de résistance," he chimed, flourishing two garment bags like a magician revealing doves.
Inside was a pair of black low-slung jeans that defied decency regulations, and athletic green shorts so short they might as well be damn underwear.
Nothing else.
Katsuki's soul left his body. "ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT—"
Honda tutted, dangling the clothes like bait. "It's artistic. A celebration of the physical form you've sculpted through battle over the years." His smirk turned antagonizing. "Unless you're ashamed of your hard work, Dynamight?"
Izuku, the conspiring little shit, was already fingering the hem of the shorts with far too much interest. "He's right, Kacchan," he said, and there was definitely mischief in his tone now. "We have put in the training. I mean, unless..." His eyes traveled down Katsuki's body, lingering. "You're afraid you can't keep up?"
Challenge fucking issued.
Katsuki's eye twitched. Over a decade of rivalry, of never backing down, of proving himself against this infuriating nerd, and it all came roaring to the surface in one glorious, stupid impulse.
"FINE," he snarled, snatching the jeans so hard the hanger snapped. "But if one camera zooms in on my goddamn waistband, I'm blowing this studio to hell."
Izuku's giggle was downright sinful.
The changing area had transformed into a warzone of exposed skin and fraying patience. Katsuki focused on the stupid jeans and how they hung too loose at the waist yet somehow too tight everywhere else. Anything to avoid processing the quiet rustles from behind the curtain. Clothes were hitting the floor left and right, and Katsuki could decipher the low humming noises Izuku always made when he was lost in thought.
The curtain shifted aside, and Katsuki's entire nervous system flatlined as his eyes landed on the man in front of him.
Izuku stood on display against the backlights, the dark green shorts cutting high across his thighs—way too damn high—while his broad back and arms displayed patterns of scars Katsuki could map from memory.
The casual way Izuku leaned against the set wall, all tightly wound up strength and infuriating comfort in his own skin, completely wrecked Katsuki. The nerd didn't even seem to notice how he was single-handedly dismantling his entire composure.
"Something wrong, Kacchan?" Izuku asked, nodding at Katsuki's death grip on his own waistband.
Katsuki's mouth went dry. The jeans he now had on sagged just enough to reveal the sharp V-line of his hips, the old war scar stretching over his oblique. Izuku's gaze tracked downward, pupils swallowing green, throat working around what might have been a gulp.
"Wow, the lighting loves you two." Honda muttered, appearing with his camera already firing. "Okay. Back-to-back like before. Skin contact only. I want the push-pull dynamic of your energies."
They moved into position. Bare back meeting bare back, and Katsuki's world narrowed to three devastating points of contact:
The press of Izuku's shoulder blades against his spine.
*Click*
The molten heat where their lower backs aligned.
*Click*
The way Izuku's hair tickled his nape with every breath.
*Click*
"Your pulse is—"
"Spare me the commentary, Deku," Katsuki bit out.
Izuku huffed a laugh that pulsated through both of them. "I was going to say racing. Like we're fighting a villain on patrol."
"The only villain here is that guy." Katsuki glared at Honda and felt more huffs of laughter against his back.
The shutter continued clicking. Honda's voice came from somewhere near the lighting rig. "Deku, angle your head toward him. Dynamight, stop holding your breath."
He hadn't realized. Air rushed from his lungs in a whoosh as Izuku tilted backward, his temple coming to rest against Katsuki's shoulder.
"Better." Izuku's approval curled warm in Katsuki's ear. "Now stop... shaking."
"I'm not—"
"You are." A callused palm slid behind him, pressing flat to the small of Katsuki's back. "Relax."
Impossible, Katsuki's brain yelled, even as his muscles unlocked beneath that touch. His head dropped backward, forehead nearly brushing Izuku's. The studio lights painted their skin gold, their shadows merging into one silhouette on the backdrop.
Honda exhaled slowly. "Yes. This is what I was talking about." The camera whirred. "The way you fit together like you're each other's counterpart."
Izuku's fingers flexed against Katsuki's back. "We are," he murmured, so quiet the mics wouldn't catch it. Just for them.
Katsuki's hands found the back of Izuku's hips of their own volition, thumbs brushing the scars there. The contact burned. The camera kept clicking. Neither of them moved away.
Honda’s voice cut through the intense atmosphere. "Turn. Face each other. And this time... explore."
They turned in slow motion. Katsuki’s pulse pounded against his ribs as Izuku’s gaze dropped to his mouth, then took its time sliding back up. The studio lights painted every scar and every freckle in brutal clarity, stripping them both raw as they stood inches apart, breaths mingling.
"Where?" Izuku’s whisper was uneven, fingers twitching like he was holding himself back. "Where do you want—"
"Anywhere," Katsuki rasped, and damn it, it sounded too fucking needy...
Izuku palm reached toward the scar on Katsuki’s sternum without hesitation. It was warm and perfectly aligned with the thud of his heartbeat. Katsuki's breath stuttered as Izuku’s thumb brushed the hollow of his throat.
"You really are shaking," Izuku murmured, eyes dark.
"Shut up," Katsuki snapped, but his own hand was already rising, He mirrored the touch, pressing against Izuku’s chest. And fuck, his heart was just as wild, just as desperate.
Honda’s camera clicked obscenely close. "That's it. I knew the connection was there—"
Katsuki barely heard him. Izuku’s skin was heated beneath his palm, his breathing shallow, his entire face flushed under the lights. The air between them grew heavier, the universe centered on the space where their bodies almost met.
"We shouldn’t," Izuku breathed, even as his fingers pressed firmly against Katsuki’s skin, clinging to every vein his fingertips grazed over.
"You're right." Katsuki agreed hoarsely.
"Honda’s right there—"
"Yeah, I know."
Izuku’s hand slid higher, fingertips tracing the line of Katsuki’s jaw. His thumb hovered over Katsuki’s lower lip, and Katsuki felt the way Izuku’s breath hitched. "Kacchan," he whispered in desire.
Katsuki leaned in—
"Aaaand CUT!" Honda’s voice shattered the moment. They wrenched apart, Izuku stumbling into a light stand while Katsuki kicked over a drink container.
They breathed heavily, avoiding eye contact as Honda scrolled through the shots, beaming like he'd just won the lottery. "Perfection." He glanced between their red faces and their white-knuckled grips on the nearest surfaces. "Actually... one last setup."
"NO," they said in unison.
Honda’s smile turned ravenous. "Just sit on the couch. Breathe. No touching this time. Easy, right?"
Katsuki’s fists trembled, his breathing still fighting to calm down. "LIKE HELL—"
Izuku grabbed his wrist. "We’ll do it."
The couch was too soft and inviting. Too much like the kind of place where people confessed things they'd regret later. Katsuki hovered at the edge of it, acutely aware of every place where his bare skin touched the extravagant material.
Across from him, Izuku curled into himself like he was trying to disappear into the cushions, knees drawn up to his chest. The pose should've looked defensive, but the way his shorts stretched across his thighs just made everything worse.
"The final shots," Honda called from behind the lights. "No directions on my end. Just... talk about anything."
The silence was a chasm. Katsuki counted the freckles on Izuku's shoulder, clustered like a galaxy of stars he'd traced a hundred times in his head.
Izuku took in an unsteady breath, indicating his typical tell before saying something stupid. "Do you remember," he started, then stopped. His fingers picked at a loose thread on the couch. "That time in third year when we got stuck in an office during that storm?"
Katsuki's stomach flipped. Four hours pressed shoulder-to-shoulder in the dark, Deku's nervous laughter warm against his neck. "Yeah."
"I thought about kissing you that day."
The admission floated between them. Katsuki could see the pulse jumping in Izuku's throat and could count each rapid rise and fall of his chest. The studio illumination caught the shimmering flecks of light in his viridescent eyes when he finally looked up.
"You should've," Katsuki said before he could stop himself.
"I...," the couch creaked as he shifted, one foot brushing against Katsuki's ankle. "There were so many times I should've," he admitted quietly. "On the roof after graduation. That night we got drunk after celebrating your debut in the top ten ranking. Last month, when you—"
"Why didn't you?" The question came out rougher than Katsuki meant it to.
Izuku's laugh was barely more than a puff of air. "Same reason you didn't, I guess." His fingers inched across the cushion between them, pinky nudging against Katsuki's. "But I'm tired of being careful with this. With us."
Katsuki turned his hand palm-up in invitation. Izuku slotted their fingers together like they'd done this a hundred times. The pads of his fingertips softly brushed Katsuki's hand, tentative at first, then firmer when Katsuki didn't pull away.
"Camera's still rolling," Katsuki muttered, still focused on Honda's presence.
"It's alright." Izuku's grip tightened. "Let them all see."
The conviction in his voice sent heat crawling up Katsuki's neck. The way Izuku was looking at him like he'd already made up his mind about this was both wonderful and frightening.
"Got it. That's... that's everything." Honda's voice was a bucket of ice cold water pouring over their confessions, reminding them they weren't alone.
Still, neither of them moved. Izuku's thumb kept tracing absent circles against Katsuki's wrist, his expression a mixture of defiance and hope. The studio lights flickered above them and in the distance, a shutter clicked.
"Incredible." Honda's voice was reverent. He flicked through the shots on his camera, eyes bright and wide. "I already know this session is going to be a hit!"
Katsuki stood so fast his knees popped, putting a full six feet between himself and Izuku before he did something unforgivable—like grab him by the back of his neck and finish what they’d started on that godforsaken couch. "We’re done here," he said sternly, barely recognizing his own voice.
Honda waved a hand, still annoyingly serene.
"Of course, of course. Go decompress. Hydrate. Possibly scream into a pillow. I’ll send proofs tomorrow." He paused, glancing between their flushed faces, and added under his breath, "Though I doubt you’ll need photographs to remember today."
Katsuki briefly considered murder.
They bolted for the changing area like the building was collapsing. Katsuki’s pulse was thundering in his ears, damn near loud enough to drown out the last shred of common sense preventing him from going to Izuku's side. He yanked his hero costume back on, straps pulled too tight, buckles misaligned. It was fine. Everything was fucking fine.
When he emerged, looking marginally less like an exploding grenade, Izuku was already waiting with rose-tinted cheeks. His fingers drummed an erratic rhythm against his thigh as he pretended to be engrossed in a poster about fire safety.
"So," Izuku started, voice pitched high with fake cheer, "Honda seemed... enthusiastic?"
"Yeah," Katsuki gritted out. "Real fuckin' enthusiastic."
Izuku wheezed a laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, he was."
The walk to the train station was agony. Katsuki swore he could feel the space between them, every accidental brush of their arms sending sparks throughout his body. Izuku’s hands wouldn’t stay still. He fidgeted with his hair, his pockets, once even hovering near Katsuki’s wrist before aborting the motion like he’d been burned.
Izuku cleared his throat.
"Do you maybe want to—?"
"Spit it out, nerd."
"Um... nevermind! I should—home. I should go home." He pivoted toward the opposite platform like a man fleeing a crime scene.
Katsuki gritted his teeth. He wasn’t letting this cowardice stand.
"Deku." He caught Izuku’s elbow, ignoring how his heart jumped at the contact.
Izuku went still. "Y-yeah?"
"Come over." The words dropped like a guillotine. No take-backs.
Izuku’s eyes widened. "Wh—?"
"You heard me." Katsuki tightened his grip, half to steady himself. "We're talking. Like damn adults. No cameras. No Honda. And no more of this cryptic bullshit. Just—" He swallowed. "Just us."
For a heartbeat, Izuku just stared. Then slowly, like he was contemplating every life decision, his fingers curled into Katsuki’s sleeve. "Okay," he breathed, jaw set. "Yeah. Your place it is, Kacchan."
The train car rattled between stations, but the silence between them was deafening. Katsuki sat stiff-backed in his seat, foot tapping impatiently against the floor, as if keeping time with his racing heart rate. Across the aisle, Izuku kept adjusting his sleeves, biting his lip, and darting his eyes to Katsuki every few seconds like he couldn't help himself.
When their knees accidentally brushed during a sharp turn, he swore he saw the exact moment Izuku stopped breathing.
The elevator ride to Katsuki's floor was worse. The tiny metal box seemed to shrink with every passing second, the air suffocating with everything they weren't saying. Katsuki stared determinedly at the ascending numbers while Izuku studied his own reflection in the polished doors. Both of them stubbornly avoided what was simmering just beneath the surface.
Katsuki's apartment greeted them as they walked through the door. It was spotless with subtle touches like high-end appliances and custom hero gear displays that screamed, I made it. It was a far cry from the smaller dorms of their UA days.
"Nice place," Izuku mumbled, though his voice sounded far away. His fingers trailed absently along the entryway wall like he was grounding himself.
Katsuki swallowed hard. "Stop that."
"Stop what?"
"Acting like you haven't been here a hundred times before. Or like we haven’t been circling this for years." He tossed his keys onto the counter, the metallic clatter rupturing the tension.
Izuku finally met his eyes, and damn if that look didn't blow the air straight out of Katsuki's lungs. The studio lights were long gone, but his face still carried that same vulnerable glow, his lips slightly swollen from where he'd been worrying them between his teeth.
“So what did you—” Izuku started.
"Deku." Katsuki closed the distance in two strides. "I need to know." His hand came up almost of its own will, fingers brushing the fading imprints left on Izuku's neck from the more strenuous poses. Izuku shivered under the touch.
"Know... what?"
"Were you serious?" Katsuki's voice dropped, exposed in the way Izuku rarely witnessed. "About everything you said today."
Izuku's gaze flicked between his eyes and lips. "Every word."
Heat unfurled in Katsuki's chest. He leaned in until their noses nearly touched, Izuku's shuddering exhales ghosting across his lips. "Good. Because I've spent every damn day since graduation thinking about this."
Izuku's pupils blew wide. His hands fisted in Katsuki's shirt.
"Kacchan." The name spilled from Izuku’s lips like a lit match, kindling the fire between them.
Katsuki closed the last inch. The heat of Izuku’s body seared through the thin barrier of their clothes. "Months," he ground out, voice rough enough to scrape. "Every mission with your reckless ass, every training session where you’d push yourself until you were shaking—you still do this thing with your mouth when you’re focused. Still tormenting me."
His thumb grazed Izuku’s lower lip, dragging it down just enough to show a flash of teeth.
"I don’t know what you're talking about—"
"Who's the liar, now?" Katsuki’s other hand found the side of his throat, feeling the frantic pulse. “You’ve been looking at me like that for years. I’ve been looking back just as hard.”
"This is insane,” Izuku whispered, but he didn’t pull away.
“Heroes don’t do dumb shit, right?” Katsuki’s grip tightened fractionally. “We work together. We fight together. Hell, we do everything together, and I’m done pretending I don’t want to ruin you the second we’re alone.”
Izuku drew in an unsteady breath, then surged forward like a collapsing nebula, hands fisting in Katsuki’s grenade harness as their mouths crashed together.
The first press of lips was a pure wildfire. Izuku gasped when Katsuki’s tongue swept in, body curving into him like he’d been waiting years for this exact pressure. Katsuki crowded him back toward the wall, knee sliding between Izuku’s thighs. The taste of sweet latte and mint flooded his senses along with the soft, desperate sounds Izuku kept making.
"Fuck," Katsuki growled into the slick heat of his mouth, hands tracing the curve of Izuku’s back through his costume. "Deku—"
"I know." His palms traveled down his ribs, catching on straps they both wished weren’t there. “Me too. Damn it, me too—”
When they broke apart, ragged breathing filled the space between them. Izuku looked demolished already with his lips swollen and glistening, freckles stark against flushed skin. His chest heaved, and he had this dazed, captivated look in his eyes like Katsuki was something worth worshipping.
Katsuki’s breath caught in his throat. He’d pictured this in his mind, dreamt about it even, but reality was drastically worse (infinitely better).
“Took you long enough, dumbass,” he muttered, dragging a thumb over that kiss-bruised mouth.
Izuku’s laugh came out breathless and a little wild. He pulled Katsuki back in by the waistband and rolled his hips, letting Katsuki feel his achingly hard arousal between them. Katsuki groaned into his mouth, hands sliding down to grip Izuku’s ass and grind him harder against the wall.
"Bedroom." The word tore from Katsuki's throat like a stone, rough-edged and desperate. His fingers fumbled to Izuku’s waist, betraying the control he’d clung to for nearly a decade. It was the same control that had kept them orbiting each other like stars, close but never colliding.
"You sure you can make it that far without jumping me in the hallway?" Izuku teased, and the damn nerd was smirking, even as his breathing stayed shaky.
Katsuki answered by crushing their mouths together again. When they broke, he pressed their foreheads together and breathed the truth into the scant space between them:
"Never been more sure of anything in my damn life."
They stumbled down the hallway, peeling away layers of armor—both literal and emotional—with each step. Gauntlets hit the hardwood with a harsh clang. Support gear slid free. Knee pads were kicked aside without care. By the time they reached the bed, most of the clothing was gone, and years of holding back were finally starting to fall with it.
Katsuki’s palms burned across newly exposed skin from the familiar terrain of Izuku’s arms, down the dangerous slope of his waist, to the uncharted territory below. Izuku’s fingers were already mapping him in return, tracing the landscape of scars like he was reading a language only the two of them spoke.
“Damn,” Izuku breathed, voice rough with awe. “You’re… fuck, Kacchan, you’re beautiful.”
Katsuki caught his wrist and pressed that hand flat over his own pounding heart. “Quit saying shit like that.”
"Why?" Izuku’s thumb brushed over a nipple, slow and intentional. Katsuki shivered. “Scared of the truth?”
“Scared of what I’ll do when I stop holding back.” The warning came out low, almost a growl. He watched Izuku’s pupils swallow the green of his eyes, black with want.
“Then don’t.” Izuku pressed closer, their bodies flush. “I’m not fragile. Never have been.”
That was all it took.
Katsuki pushed Izuku onto the mattress, drinking in the sight of him—the flutter of the pulse in his throat, the sheen of sweat against his skin, the way every breath shuddered like a plea he was trying not to voice yet.
Then he started roaming him properly.
Katsuki’s hands started at Izuku’s wrists, tracing the delicate bones, the thrumming pulse. His fingertips skimmed up the sensitive skin, feeling the goosebumps rise beneath his touch. He moved over the curves of Izuku's shoulders, lingering at the dip of his collarbone before sliding down his chest. He took his time, palms dragging slow and proprietary, claiming every inch before his mouth ever got there.
“Look at you,” Katsuki muttered, almost to himself. “All that power, and you’re still this sensitive.” His mouth followed the path his hands had taken, lips brushing the firm skin of Izuku’s bicep, teeth nibbling the crook of his elbow just to feel him twitch. He continued lower across the tight lines of his abs, dipping into the hollow of his navel. Izuku’s stomach jumped under the attention.
Katsuki’s teeth grazed Izuku’s hip, biting down just hard enough to feel the jerk of muscle beneath his lips before soothing the spot with his tongue. He savored the gasp it ripped from Izuku's throat—a sound he’d hoard like grenade pins, each one a tiny explosion of his own making.
"Perfect fucking storm of everything I shouldn’t want," he spoke against his skin. "But I can't get you out of my head."
Izuku’s back arched. His hands clenched and unclenched in the sheets. “Kacchan—you’re going to drive me crazy if you keep going this slow.”
“Good.” Katsuki smirked against his hipbone, then started the slow climb back up, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses and sharp little nips. He captured the pulse point at Izuku’s throat, sucking hard enough to mark, then laved his tongue over the spot. Izuku’s entire body shuddered.
“Tell me what you want,” Katsuki murmured against his ear, voice rough. “Use your words, Deku. I know you’ve got them.”
Izuku’s fingers tangled in his hair and pulled. “You. It's always been you, Kacchan.”
The admittance only amplified Katsuki's need. He kissed him deep and filthy, pouring years of repressed longing into every slide of lips and tongue. Then he spoke against his lips.
“You’ve had me since the first time you looked at me like I was worth something. Don’t ever forget that.”
His hand finally slipped lower, fingertips trailing just above Izuku's boxer briefs. The moment he traced the elastic edge, Izuku's hips flinched upward with a desperate urgency, need throbbing beneath his waistband.
"Please," Izuku whispered, the word cracked open in a syllable that tasted like surrender.
Katsuki pushed further, his grin feral. "Please wha—nngh."
Izuku nipped his lower lip, eliciting a pleasurable groan in response. He pulled back just enough to tip Katsuki's chin up, to see the burning passion in his eyes. "I've waited so long for you to touch me. I don't want to wait any longer."
"Neither do I." Katsuki's hand slid beneath the fabric. An anguished sound erupted from Izuku's mouth as his back lifted off the mattress. He was already so stiff and leaking against Katsuki's palm, precome smearing hot between them.
“Fuck, look at you,” Katsuki purred, twisting his wrist in an upstroke just to watch Izuku's thighs tremble. “So damn responsive. Coming apart so easily.”
Izuku’s hand was already moving in retaliation, slipping under Katsuki’s waistband, wrapping firmly around him. He stroked with the same slow, torturous rhythm Katsuki was using. Katsuki growled into his mouth as he kissed him hungrily. He stilled his own hand completely, just pulsing his grip, forcing Izuku to feel the denial while he kept working him.
Izuku’s nails dug crescents into his shoulder. His voice came out rough, almost strained. “Kacchan… you’re killing me.”
“Yeah? Too much for you to handle?” Katsuki tantalized, swiping his thumb over the head of Izuku’s cock to watch him jolt.
“Not nearly enough.” Izuku’s breath hitched, but the words stayed clear as he leaned up to Katsuki's ear. “I want more of you. Your mouth. Your fingers. I want you to open me up while you swallow me down. I want to watch you do it.”
"Fuck, you're gonna be the death of me."
Katsuki sat back, impatiently stripping off his own boxers. The cool air against his overheated skin was nothing compared to the blistering intensity of Izuku's gaze as it swept over him, eyes lingering on the long thick line of his erection, the way his abs were clenched tight.
"Yours now. Off." Katsuki hooked his fingers in Izuku's waistband, sliding his knuckles against feverish skin.
Izuku lifted his hips without hesitation. The fabric slid down his legs, leaving him bare. His cock was swollen against his stomach and twitching under Katsuki's gaze.
"You're staring," Izuku said, breathless but almost teasing.
“Can’t help it. You’re unreal.” Katsuki dragged a claiming hand up the inside of Izuku’s thigh and pressed his thumb into the crease of his hip, feeling the rabbit-fast thump beneath his skin. “Been imagining you like this for years.”
He settled between Izuku's legs. Izuku's knees fell open wider. Katsuki bent forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses along his inner thighs. Izuku's hands fisted in his hair, holding on as if Katsuki were the only solid thing in the spinning world.
When Katsuki finally took him into his hot mouth, hollowing his cheeks on the first downward glide, Izuku's back bowed with a shattered cry. His hips tried to thrust up, but Katsuki pinned him down with one broad hand splayed across his abdomen and started working him properly.
Slow, filthy drags of his tongue and deep, wet suctions left Izuku unraveling beneath him.
“Your mouth—fuck, Kacchan, your mouth feels incredible,” Izuku gasped, voice already fracturing. “So perfect, so—ah—”
Katsuki hummed around him, and the vibration wrung a sob from Izuku’s mouth. Every reaction spurred Katsuki on. Sharp gasps filled his ears when he swirled his tongue around the sensitive head, turning into broken whimpers when he took Izuku to the back of his throat.
He pulled off just long enough to speak.
"You taste—" Katsuki murmured, lips grazing Izuku’s length with each word. "Fuck, Izuku, you taste like mine."
"Yours, Kacchan." Izuku agreed with a tattered exhale. “All yours. Please don’t stop—”
Katsuki devoured his cock, taking even more of him this time, nose nuzzling his groin.
The choked-off moan Izuku unleashed went straight to Katsuki’s dick, his own hips grinding helplessly into the sheets for friction. Katsuki reached for the drawer, lube clattering as he fumbled with the cap. His fingers that were usually so skilled were now clumsy with need. He squirted just enough to soak two of his fingers until they were nearly dripping. Slick with lube, he traced teasing circles around Izuku's rim.
Izuku jolted. "Ka—!"
"I've got you," Katsuki soothed, though his voice was anything but gentle. He pressed a single finger against Izuku’s entrance, just enough pressure to make him shiver, while his mouth continued moving around him.
Every gulp matched the careful push of his finger. Katsuki reveled in the way Izuku’s body fought to adjust with the clench around his knuckle. He crooked his finger, searching for the spot that would make Izuku see stars. When he found his prostate, he pressed, engulfing Izuku's engorged cock at the same time. Pleasure rippled throughout Izuku’s body as Katsuki rubbed slow and unyielding while he sucked him.
“More,” Izuku demanded, hips rocking down to meet the intrusion. “Another. Stretch me open so I can take everything.”
So damn greedy.
Katsuki groaned, his lips still wrapped tight around him. He added a second finger, scissoring him open with ruthless patience. The dual sensations had Izuku falling apart so beautifully. His thighs were shaking, hands grasping feebly at the sheets, voice fragmenting into sounds that weren’t even words anymore.
"I’m close," Izuku warned, his body wound tight and teetering on the edge. “Kacchan, I’m so close—”
Katsuki pulled off with a slick pop, his lips gleaming. His fingers slowed to an almost cruel tempo. “Not yet. You’re going to come with me inside you. I want to feel you clench around my cock when you finish. Understand?”
The raw hunger in Izuku’s eyes nearly undid him.
"Yes—" Izuku gasped, his hands scrabbling to drag Katsuki closer. "I want all of you. Right now—"
Katsuki kissed him deep and filthy, letting Izuku taste himself on his tongue as he reached for a condom. The tear of the packet sliced through the air, too loud in the space between their ragged breaths.
With a sudden, decisive shove, Izuku rolled them, straddling Katsuki's hips with a fierce determination in his eyes. He leaned down until his lips brushed Katsuki’s.
"Let me take care of you first, Kacchan. I want to make you feel just as good." Izuku's voice was confident and sure, filled with a newfound assertiveness that sent a thrill down Katsuki's spine.
Katsuki's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't resist as Izuku moved down and positioned himself between his legs. Izuku's gaze was fixed on Katsuki's face as he took him into his mouth like he'd been starving for it his entire life.
Katsuki’s head dropped back against the pillow with a deep, guttural groan. “Izuku—fuck—”
Izuku's lips moved from tip to base in a tight, wet seal, one hand gently cupping and tugging Katsuki’s balls. His other roamed higher, alternating and teasing Katsuki's nipples between his thumb and index finger. He looked up through his lashes the whole time, watching every reaction. The sight alone had sparks igniting from within.
“So damn good at this,” Katsuki barely managed, fingers clutching in green curls. “Look at you. Taking me like you were—oh fuck, Izuku—like you were made for it.”
Izuku moaned at the praise, taking him even deeper. He could feel Katsuki's body tensing, the muscles in those strong legs flexing under his touch, the pleasure building so intensely within him.
Izuku's pace was merciless. Each downward stroke of his mouth was calculated to drive Katsuki to the brink. He felt Katsuki's body responding. The tension was coiling tighter with each passing moment until he was a trembling mess beneath him. His breaths kept coming in clipped gasps as he was getting closer to release.
Katsuki forcibly lifted Izuku's head by his hair before he could finish, watching Izuku's satisfied smile tilt up. Katsuki pulled him back up, his lips finding Izuku's in a ravishing kiss as he rolled them over.
"Izuku," he rasped against his lips, his voice hoarse with desire, "I need to be inside you."
Izuku nodded, an uneven breath escaping his lips. Katsuki reached for the condom again. His hands shook slightly as he rolled the latex down his length. He poured lube onto his palm and stroked it over himself. Izuku watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, his chest heaving, lips kiss-swollen and parted.
When Katsuki hovered over him, the thick head of his cock was seated against Izuku’s entrance. One forearm braced beside Izuku's head, fingers gently pushing the hair back from his face. The other looped around the back of Izuku's thigh, and he turned to press a soft kiss to the inside of his knee.
"Ready?" Katsuki asked tenderly, his voice barely recognizable.
Izuku answered by hooking his legs around Katsuki’s waist, pulling him closer until their bodies aligned. Then he spoke, breath warm against his mouth.
Always," he said unwaveringly. "Always for you."
Katsuki captured Izuku's lips between his own, pushing forward with excruciating slowness. Every millimeter of advance sent pleasure coursing through them both. Izuku’s breath stammered shakily as his fingers dug into Katsuki’s biceps, anchoring himself against the stretch.
Katsuki reached for Izuku's hand, intertwining their fingers together. Izuku squeezed, his emerald gaze locking onto ruby.
"Breathe." Katsuki soothed. He leaned down and kissed the side of Izuku’s neck, then higher, mouth skimming the hinge of his jaw as he continued pushing in. "Just relax for me, Izuku. I'm right here with you," he whispered against the shell of his ear.
He felt Izuku’s body accepting him, opening around him inch by careful inch. Katsuki’s breathing had gone shallow, his lungs burning with restraint.
When he finally sank all the way in, hips flush against Izuku’s, he groaned at the tight heat surrounding him. He dropped his face into the crook of Izuku’s neck, entirely overwhelmed. Being inside him, filling him so completely was almost too much.
“You feel…” Katsuki’s voice cracked against Izuku’s skin. “You feel better than anything I ever let myself imagine, Izuku.”
Izuku’s answering gasp melted into a moan. His nails raked down Katsuki’s arms, leaving fiery trails in their wake.
“Kacchan...” The name came out unsteady. Tears brimmed in Izuku's eyes. The words poured out in a rush, like he couldn’t hold them back any longer. “Having you—all of you—it's all I've ever wanted. I want you. And not just like this. I want to be with you. Everything that comes after. I know I shouldn’t be saying this right now, but I mean it. I should have said it sooner. I wish I would have—"
Katsuki cupped his cheek, thumb resting against Izuku’s mouth to still the flood of words. Inside his heart, everything he had kept buried for years pressed up against his ribs, threatening to break free. Every time he had chosen silence so he could keep Izuku in his life at all, even if only as a friend. Even if it meant never confessing how he truly felt and never having what his heart had longed for all this time.
Him.
Because it had always been him. Long before he'd been willing to admit it.
Angelic eyes glanced up at Katsuki as he caressed the freckles on Izuku’s cheek. His gaze traveled over the edges of the jagged scar and every blemish of skin that was nothing short of perfection in his eyes. Warmth pulsated around him, Izuku's breath hitching at every small movement as he fully adjusted just for him, and Katsuki realized he'd never felt more complete in his life.
Izuku nuzzled his nose lightly against Katsuki’s. There was trust in the way he looked at him, home in his embrace. Katsuki's lips traced over Izuku's gently, tasting the salt of their shared tears, before he caught his lower lip between his own. He tugged lightly, feeling the little tremor that moved through Izuku's jaw. When Izuku opened for him, their tongues met in a deeper, wetter slide.
"Izuku." Katsuki broke the kiss just enough to speak, lips still brushing his. He drew back almost completely, the long glide making Izuku’s breath catch, then pushed in again in one continuous, rolling motion that had Izuku arching from the sheets. “All that you are—” He pulled out in another slow withdrawal, pushing in with a deep thrust that had him groaning and Izuku whimpering against his lips. “—everything you’ll become—”
He stayed deep for a moment, forehead against Izuku’s, still holding his hand against the mattress.
"I want you by my side. I don't want another damn second where you're not with me. Where I'm not yours and you're not mine."
"I'm not going anywhere. I promise—mmph!"
Katsuki began to move in earnest then. He kept the rhythm long and deep, each stroke meant to draw every sound from Izuku that he could, meant to let him feel every inch. Sweat gathered between them until skin slapped against skin, each impact rougher as their slicked bodies lost friction.
One of Katsuki’s hands moved to cradle the back of Izuku's neck. Every few thrusts he leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth, his cheek, or the damp skin below his ear, as if the words alone were not enough and he needed the contact to make them real.
When Katsuki angled his hips just so, Izuku’s moans pitched higher, breaking on each thrust. Katsuki’s own guttural curses stayed buried against Izuku’s throat as the sheets rustled and tangled beneath them. The bedframe creaked repeatedly with every motion.
Izuku’s legs locked tighter around Katsuki’s waist, heels digging into the small of his back, urging him deeper. "Harder," he begged, voice raw. "Please, I can take it!"
Whatever semblance of will that was holding Katsuki back vanished entirely with Izuku's pleas.
He drove into him with a brutal pace, each piston into his needy hole knocking a gasp from Izuku’s lips. The headboard slammed against the wall in time with their rhythm, a reckless staccato that matched their hammering hearts.
Izuku met every thrust, free hand moving restlessly, clawing at his back and shoulders. Katsuki bit down gently at the curve of his neck just to feel Izuku writhe beneath him, to make him leave marks he'd be reminded of over the next week.
"Touch yourself," Katsuki demanded, voice rough against his ear with barely leashed need.
Izuku hesitated—just for a moment. His hand flexed in Katsuki's grip, his breath shaky as if torn between obedience and the overwhelming pleasure already wracking his body. His hips stuttered, overstimulated but eager for more, and Katsuki felt the way Izuku’s body quivered on the edge of relinquishing control.
"C’mon, Izuku," Katsuki growled, adjusting his thrusts to an agonizingly slow pace to make the order a torment. "Want to feel what I do to you. Want to see you wreck yourself on my cock."
Izuku’s hand flew to his own length at the words, stroking in desperate tandem with Katsuki’s movements as he picked up speed again. Precome clung to his abdomen, glistening under the dim light.
Katsuki's fingers tugged Izuku's curls with each thrust. An intense pressure built inside of him with every moan and whine reverberating against his ear from Izuku's mouth.
"K-Kacchan—" Izuku’s voice cracked, his thighs trembling violently. "I’m—damn it—I’m gonna—"
"Do it." Katsuki sealed the command with a kiss, his hips never faltering. "Let go. Come for me, Izuku."
Izuku fell apart completely as a ragged cry tore from his throat. His orgasm ripped through him, his body clamping down hard with every wave that rushed through his body. His nails burrowed into Katsuki's back, scraping down with fresh marks while his legs squeezed tighter, as if he never wanted space between them again.
The pain made Katsuki grit his teeth, but the sensation was cataclysmic as he chased his own release. Between the throbbing around his cock and Izuku's blissed-out speech— Need to feel you finish inside me. Want your cum to fill me up. Every last drop. Come for me, Kacchan—he was pulled over the edge right after. He pushed himself to the hilt with one final thrust, his groan muffled against Izuku’s skin as he came.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. There was only the racing of their hearts, the mingling of their breaths, and the silent acknowledgment of something irrevocable shifting between them.
Katsuki eased out carefully and then immediately pulled Izuku into his arms, refusing to sever the connection. He kept him close with a leg draped over Izuku’s, palm spread wide across his waist. He could still feel the aftershocks running through both of them.
Izuku’s fingers traced idle patterns over Katsuki’s ribcage. His voice came out drowsy and a little playful.
“Mmm… so that’s why you’re always so competitive.”
Katsuki’s laugh rumbled through both of them. “Shut the hell up, nerd.”
"You were... amazing," Izuku murmured, lips feathering the side of Katsuki’s neck. His whole body felt loose and warm against him. “God, Kacchan. You were so amazing.”
Katsuki huffed a quieter laugh, the sound vibrating where their chests pressed together. His fingers carded through the curls at the nape of Izuku’s neck.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” he said, the roughness still there, then softer: “That was perfect, Izuku. Every second of it.” He leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to Izuku’s forehead, then another to his temple.
"So were you, Kacchan," Izuku replied, nuzzling his nose into Katsuki's neck.
They cuddled up to one another. Their limbs were tangled together, while Katsuki’s palm traced patterns up and down the dip of Izuku’s spine. Izuku’s fingertips kept mapping the ridges of Katsuki’s ribs as if he were memorizing the shape of him. The afterglow settled over them, heavy and sweet as their breathing gradually evened out.
"Kacchan?" Izuku’s voice was low, tentative in the quiet.
"Hmm?" Katsuki hummed in response, fingertips grazing the knobs of Izuku’s vertebrae.
"I meant what I said during. The way that I feel about you. What I want... with us." Izuku's body tensed for a brief moment, like he was afraid of the response, afraid Katsuki may not feel the same way after the intensity and urgency had dissipated.
Katsuki met his eyes, his smile so unbelievably soft. "Me too, Izuku. Every word of it."
Izuku's eyes brightened, his smile gleaming.
The thought of Izuku staring at someone else so affectionately or smiling so fondly or making those divine sounds for anyone but him—struck Katsuki intrusively all at once.
His eyebrows drew together, lips frowning in a scowl.
"Is everything alright—Ka—?!"
Katsuki wrapped an arm around Izuku's head, knuckles rubbing into his scalp. "And don't you dare think about taking it back! You're stuck with me. You got that, nerd?!"
Izuku giggled delightedly, squirming in Katsuki's hold. "I would never! There's nowhere else I'd rather be! I promised, didn't I?!" He gasped breathlessly as he attempted to get out of his grip until he finally got a hold of his wrists, pinning them to the mattress. Izuku kissed him roughly, body still tremoring with amusement as he pulled back.
"Can we…" Izuku bit his own lip, then let out a small chuckle at his hesitation. "Can we do that again?"
Katsuki’s laughter burst forth, loud and unguarded, his arms tightening around Izuku. "Anytime you want, Izuku," he vowed, nipping at Izuku’s earlobe. "Any fucking time."
✦ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ✦
The sun had long since dipped below the horizon when they finally untangled themselves, painting the apartment in streaks of indigo. Katsuki tugged on a pair of sweatpants, the waistband hanging low on his hips, and tossed another pair at Izuku.
"Hungry?" he asked, watching as Izuku caught the fabric with a grin.
"Starving," Izuku admitted, stepping into the pants and nearly tripping when Katsuki yanked him close by the waistband to kiss his lips.
They raided the kitchen, shoulders bumping as they moved around each other with ease. Katsuki rummaged through the fridge. Izuku piled leftovers onto plates. No words were needed, just the quiet certainty of two people who knew each other by heart.
As they ate, the conversation meandered between the chaos of the photoshoot, the way Honda had needled them into position, and everything that had simmered between them all this time.
"You know," Izuku mused, poking at his food with a chopstick, "I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad Honda pushed us so hard today."
Katsuki snorted, kicking Izuku’s ankle under the table. "Yeah, me too. Still might kill him if he publishes those damn shots, though."
"Maybe just the candid ones," Izuku teased, eyes crinkling. "The ones where we’re actually… us."
Katsuki held his gaze for a beat, then lifted his water bottle. "To us, nerd." he mused.
Izuku clinked his bottle against Katsuki’s, his smile more radiant than the setting sun. "To us."
As they finished their meal, Katsuki’s phone buzzed against the table. He glanced at the screen, his fingers pausing around his water bottle.
"What is it?" Izuku asked, tilting his head. The way Katsuki’s eyebrows lifted, just slightly, had him leaning forward.
"Honda," Katsuki said, sliding the phone across the table. "Sent the proofs already. Bastard works fast."
Izuku’s fingers brushed Katsuki’s as he took the phone, the touch lingering a beat too long. Then—
Oh.
The phone screen illuminated with Honda's proofs, each image capturing the true connection and chemistry between them. Katsuki rose from his chair to stand behind Izuku as they looked at the photos together. Izuku's breath stopped as he swiped through:
First, the action shots where their bodies were frozen mid-movement. Their muscles were glinting, and every tendon was flexed with power. Katsuki's explosive punch met Izuku's flying kick in perfect synchronization, their poses so aligned they could've been mirror images.
Then came the quieter moments between takes—Katsuki's callused hand firm on Izuku's shoulder as he adjusted his stance, their eyes locked in that familiar wordless communication they'd perfected over years of partnership. The way Izuku had unconsciously leaned into the touch.
Izuku's thumb stilled on the screen. The last shot. It was utter perfection. Their foreheads were pressed together in the brief stillness between poses, Katsuki's usually sharp smirk softened into tenderness while Izuku laughed with his whole body. That bright, unguarded sound was captured forever in the slight wrinkle of his eyes and the curve of his lips.
"These are…" Izuku continued swiping thrive. His voice was barely a whisper. "Kacchan, he truly captured us."
Katsuki didn't grab the phone. Just looked over Izuku's shoulder, his chin brushing damp curls as his breath warmed Izuku's neck.
"Yeah," he admitted, voice rough with and vulnerable. "That's us."
They spent the next hour dissecting every shot, sprawled across Katsuki’s couch. Izuku grinned as he zoomed in on one particularly dramatic action pose.
"Look at your face here," Izuku teased, tapping the screen. "You look like you’re trying to murder the camera."
Katsuki scoffed. "That’s my normal face, you damn idiot."
"Really?" Izuku flipped to another photo where Katsuki was mid-kick, his expression harsh.
"Because this one says ‘I will end you,’ but this one," He swiped to the candid one where Katsuki’s lips were curled in an unguarded grin, "says ‘I secretly like cuddling.’"
Katsuki dived toward Izuku, pinning him against the couch cushions. "I'm actually going to murder you," he snarled, but there wasn't even a smidgen of anger—not when Izuku was laughing breathlessly beneath him, his cheeks pink with his hands already winding into Katsuki’s hair.
"Prove it," Izuku challenged, grinning.
Katsuki’s retaliation was swift—a merciless tickle attack that had Izuku shrieking and thrashing with laughter and half-hearted protests.
"K-Kacchan—stop! I surrender! I surrender!" Izuku pleaded between giggles.
"Damn right, you do," Katsuki muttered, but he relented, collapsing half on top of him. They lay there, breathless and grinning like idiots, the phone forgotten on the floor.
When Izuku finally stood to leave hours later—his hair a mess and his shirt crooked—Katsuki followed him to the door, their frames bumping in the dim hallway.
"Thank you," Izuku said, fingers curling into Katsuki’s shirt. The gratitude was for the years. For the unsaid always between them.
Rather than answering with words, Katsuki tugged Izuku forward, their bodies slotting together as naturally as breathing, and kissed him.
"Anytime, Izuku," he murmured against Izuku’s lips, and Izuku knew he meant it.
As Izuku stepped into the late evening air, Katsuki stayed in the doorway, the events of the day burning into him like sunlight through glass. The moments shared between them felt so warm and genuine. His lips curled without permission, soft and private in a way that would’ve pissed him off a month ago. Now? Now it just felt right.
The next few days passed in a haze of stolen moments, each one a spark in the quiet between their hectic lives.
It started in the gym after evening training. Katsuki cornered Izuku against the mats, their sweat-slick skin sticking together as he kissed the breathless laughter from Izuku's lips.
"Kacchan—someone could see—" Izuku gasped, fingers twisting in Katsuki's tank top. Katsuki just nipped at his jaw.
"Then shut up, nerd," He replied before claiming his mouth again, the taste of sports drinks and shared exhaustion pleasant between them.
Then came the cafeteria games. Izuku's foot slid up Katsuki's calf under the table during lunch, and his smile was butter-smooth as Katsuki choked on his rice.
"The hell—?!" Katsuki growled, kicking back, only for Izuku to trap his ankle between both feet like a victorious crab.
Their hands always found each other afterward, fingers interlacing beneath the table's edge where no one could see. Katsuki would slowly circle Izuku's palm with his thumb, and Izuku would pretend not to notice the way his own chopsticks trembled.
And the meetings... oh, the meetings were their own special kind of torture. Katsuki would slouch in his chair, watching Izuku scribble notes like his life depended on it, eyebrows knit in that ridiculous focused pout.
"You're writing down obvious shit again," Katsuki would mutter afterward, shoving a notebook across the table. His pages were a mess of aggressive underlines and tactical diagrams only Izuku could decipher, margins crammed with "DUMB PLAN" and "FIX THIS" in jagged script. Izuku would beam like he'd been given a gift, and Katsuki would pretend not to gloat.
They were careful. Not ashamed—never that—but protective. These moments belonged to them and them alone, like the way Izuku’s freckles looked against Katsuki’s pillow in the morning light. Then there was Izuku's sleepy mumbling into Katsuki's collarbone when alarms went off too early. How Katsuki’s hands lingered at Izuku’s waist even when they were alone, as if afraid he’d vanish. The way Katsuki still gripped Izuku's hip in his sleep, as if even unconscious, he refused to part from him.
The magazine hit stands on a Thursday.
They stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the bookstore’s bright glow, the pages crisp under Katsuki’s fingers. Then, there it was.
The cover.
Their candid shot dominated the glossy page, but it was the smaller details that stole Katsuki's breath.
The action spread showed their bodies mid-motion, Katsuki's explosion-propelled kick meeting Izuku's spinning hook, their limbs a study in synchronized power under the headline: "WONDER DUO: The Unbreakable Bond of UA's Finest!"
Another page featured a gentle moment between takes—Katsuki adjusting Izuku's stance, his palm firm between Izuku's shoulder blades as Izuku leaned back into the touch, eyes closed like he could feel Katsuki's steady, "I've got you."
But the crown jewel was that shot with their foreheads pressed together. Katsuki's smirk softened into a smile. Izuku's laughter caught mid-squint of his eyes.
"Fuck," Katsuki breathed. His chest ached. "We look…"
"Happy," Izuku finished, voice thick. A tear slipped free before he could catch it.
Katsuki turned Izuku’s face toward him with a finger under his chin, ignoring the stares as he laced their fingers together and kissed him right there in public. "Yeah," he agreed. "We are."
Outside, the city buzzed around them, but Katsuki barely noticed with Izuku’s palm warm against his and with the future stretching before them.
"So," Izuku bumped their shoulders together, grinning as he waved the magazine. "Now that the whole world knows we’re disgustingly in love…"
Katsuki snatched it from him, flipping to the action shots. "Tch. They cropped out my best kick."
"Oh no," Izuku deadpanned. "However will your ego recover?"
Without hesitation, Katsuki put Izuku into a one-armed headlock that dissolved into laughter when Izuku wheezed, "Mercy! I take it back!"
And as they walked to Katsuki's apartment, the magazine tucked safely in Izuku’s bag and Katsuki’s arm slung over his shoulders, one truth burned brighter than any headline:
This wasn’t the ending.
It was the first damn page.
✦ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ✦
Three years later, the studio smelled like cherry blossoms—sweet and nostalgic, exactly like their first shoot, when they'd been all clenched fists and racing hearts. Katsuki inhaled deeply, the scent mixing with the familiar scent of the man he'd proposed to and loved most in this world. Home.
Honda greeted them with a knowing smirk, already adjusting his camera settings. "Took you two long enough," he said, nodding at their intertwined hands. "Should I prepare tissues for the crew? I hear emotional explosions are your new brand."
Katsuki narrowed his eyes. "Should I prepare your funeral arrangements?"
"Noted," Honda chuckled, wisely stepping back to gesture at the set.
The set was a dream. Real branches of vivid pink cherry blossoms arched overhead, their petals drifting down like snowfall and catching in Izuku’s curls as soon as he stepped beneath them. The sunset backdrop blazed in the same gold-and-crimson hues as Katsuki’s eyes, and for once, even he had to admit Honda had outdone himself.
"Alright, lovebirds," Honda said, lifting his camera. "Let’s make some magic. Or at least something that won’t get me fired."
They started with the safe shots—clasped hands, foreheads touching, the obligatory romantic nonsense that would make their mothers weep, but Honda wasn’t having it.
"Come on. You think I don’t know you two actually communicate via sparring and death threats?" He dropped to one knee like he was proposing and rasped: “Now show me the real shit. The stuff that makes your neighbors file noise complaints.”
And oh, they delivered.
Katsuki bared his teeth, but Izuku smiled—and then, in one fluid motion, he hooked a foot behind Katsuki’s knee and yanked. They crashed into the petals, Katsuki’s mock-outraged growl muffled against Izuku’s shoulder as Honda’s camera clicked wildly.
Katsuki flipped them until Izuku was pinned, wrists trapped, both of them breathing hard. The camera caught it all: Izuku’s giggling gasp, Katsuki’s wide grin, the way their legs tangled like they were still eighteen and fighting on a gym mat.
"I knew it was still there," Honda murmured, snapping shot after shot of their wrestling-turned-cuddling, Katsuki’s hands buried in Izuku’s hair, Izuku’s laughter more brilliant than the camera flashes lighting up the room.
When they finally broke apart, Honda sighed dramatically. "And to think, I used to have to beg you two to act like you liked each other."
Katsuki flipped him off, but Izuku was in to of the world as he brushed petals from Katsuki’s shoulders.
"The very last shot," Honda said, softer now. "Just look at each other. No posing or fighting. Just give me the two of you."
Katsuki turned.
And there he was—his rival, his idiot, his agency partner, his fiancé, his hero, his Deku. The man who’d chased him through childhood, who’d fought alongside him, who quoted hero stats in his sleep, and who somehow, against all odds, had chosen him.
Izuku’s eyes were wet. Katsuki’s throat burned.
"I love you, Izuku," Katsuki muttered, gruff as ever and sweet as the first time.
Izuku’s smile could’ve powered cities. “I love you too, Kacchan. Always.”
The camera whirred as their lips met, and their engagement rings shined in the light.
Honda examined the preview screen, shaking his head. "Yeah, that’s going on the cover."
"Thank you, Honda." Izuku beamed.
"Yeah, thanks or whatever." Katsuki said, not taking his eyes off Izuku as a large smile spread across his face.
"Always a pleasure." Honda bowed dramatically.
As they left, Katsuki laced their fingers together without a second thought, and Izuku swung their hands between them, sending a flurry of petals spiraling to the ground.
"Think he’ll make us do this again at the wedding?" Izuku lifted a brow.
Katsuki scoffed. "He can try."
But as they stepped into the golden light, Katsuki knew:
It was just another chapter—one he’d keep writing with Izuku petal by petal, laugh by laugh, and frame by frame for the rest of their lives.
✦ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ✦