yours for the taking

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/64029136.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero
Academia (Anime & Manga)
Relationship: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku
Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku, cameo; oc
Additional Tags: Friends With Benefits, but mentioned and not that relevant to the plot,
Jealousy, Possessive Sex, i think … i hope, Top Midoriya Izuku, Bottom
Bakugou Katsuki, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, mmm, Desk Sex, Bakugou
Katsuki has a big useless dick because he's a bottom
Language: English
Collections: BEST MHA FICS
Stats: Published: 2025-03-21 Words: 4,800 Chapters: 1/1
 yours for the taking
by prettyykawa

Summary

“Say it to my face,” Izuku challenges, voice a low, dangerous murmur. “Look me in the eye
and tell me you don’t want this anymore.”

Katsuki grits his teeth, refusing to look at him, because he can’t—because he knows Izuku
will see right through him.

Izuku’s grip tightens. “That’s what I thought.”

His free hand lands on Katsuki’s hip, fingers pressing hard enough to burn through the fabric
of his pants. “You wanna act like you don’t give a shit? Like you don’t need me? That’s real
fucking cute, Kacchan.” Izuku’s voice drops lower, just above a whisper. “But we both know
you like it when I remind you who you belong to.”

__

katsuki tries to walk away from their arrangement, izuku doesn’t let him

Notes

hi, this was inspired by my dms w cass-- wrote a thread & then expanded it into this

speaking of; she beta'ed this, thank u ily

context!! essentially inspiried by asdtwt but katsuki becomes obsessed with competing
against 3rd party, so much so that izuku notices—and hates it. izuku (who’s jealous and
possessive) bans katsuki from U.A. to keep them apart, but it only fuels katsuki’s
determination to come back bc he thinks izuku jst wants the guy to himself … i turned them
into fwb and made it horny

ANYWAY

enjoyᥫ᭡.

See the end of the work for more notes

Katsuki sits on Izuku’s desk, leg bouncing, arms crossed tight over his chest. His jaw aches
from how hard he's clenching it, but he doesn't stop. He shouldn't even be here. They were
supposed to meet at Izuku’s place, but he finished early and thought—fuck it—he’d come
pick him up. A little surprise.

But now, the second the door swings open, he knows he shouldn’t have come at all.

Izuku walks in with Fujikawa at his side, laughing at something the extra said, eyes soft,
body language easy. Katsuki watches them brush shoulders, watches the way Fujikawa leans
in, how Izuku doesn't pull away. His stomach twists, something sharp and ugly curling in his
ribs.

"I can take you home, Midoriya. It really isn’t a problem," Fujikawa offers, voice smooth,
confident. Too confident.

Izuku smiles, shaking his head. "Oh no, that’s okay. Maybe next time?"

The words slam into Katsuki’s ribs, knocking the air from his lungs.

Then, finally, Izuku looks up.

“Kacchan!? What are you doing here?”

Katsuki forces himself to swallow down the sharp sting of irritation, pushing off the desk and
stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Came to pick you up, but guess you didn’t need the ride,
huh?” He keeps his voice even, but it doesn’t stop the ache in his chest, the way maybe next
time keeps looping in his head, relentless.

Fujikawa doesn't get the hint. "I wouldn’t mind dropping off Midoriya."

Katsuki scoffs. "Cool. Go ahead." He moves to leave, but Izuku steps into his path. "Move,
nerd."

"Kacchan, we’re going to the same place. I’ll just come with you," Izuku says, brows knitting
together as if he could sense that something was off.

Katsuki shakes his head. "Nah. I’m going home.”

"What about our plans?"

"What about them, Deku ?" Katsuki fires back, jaw tight, voice cutting.

Fujikawa shifts awkwardly before excusing himself, but neither of them acknowledge him.
The air between them feels too thick, too charged, the unspoken words between them
pressing down like a weight on Katsuki’s chest.

"What do you mean, ‘what about them’??" Izuku pushes.

Katsuki exhales sharply, clenching his hands in his pockets as if it’ll stop them from shaking.
"I’m calling it quits, Izuku. I don’t want to keep doing this."

Izuku’s expression twists, confusion flickering into something defensive, something sharp .
"Is it because of him? Do you want to do things with him instead?"

Katsuki barks out a humourless laugh. "The fuck? You sound dumb as shit."

But Izuku doesn’t back down. He takes another step forward, crowding into Katsuki’s space,
and something about the way his gaze darkens makes Katsuki’s pulse spike.

“Oh yeah? Then why the fuck are you acting like this?” Izuku accuses, voice low, sharp with
frustration. “Like you didn’t just spend weeks pushing me away? Like you didn’t stop
coming over first?”

“You stopped initiating first,” Katsuki snaps, stepping forward too, refusing to let Izuku have
the upper hand. Their chests nearly brush, heat radiating between them. “Don’t act like this is
all on me.”

Izuku scoffs, eyes flashing. “That’s bullshit and you know it. I gave you space, Kacchan—
thought maybe you needed it. But now you’re pulling this?” His gaze flickers, something
unreadable passing through his face before he tilts his head. “Or was I supposed to chase
you?”

Katsuki’s breath catches. His throat feels tight, and his skin prickles, heat curling in his
stomach at the implication in Izuku’s voice.

“Fuck off,” he mutters, turning to leave.

But Izuku’s hand shoots out, gripping Katsuki’s wrist again, harder this time—less desperate,
more commanding.

“Say it to my face,” Izuku challenges, voice a low, dangerous murmur. “Look me in the eye
and tell me you don’t want this anymore.”

Katsuki grits his teeth, refusing to look at him, because he can’t —because he knows Izuku
will see right through him.

Izuku’s grip tightens. “That’s what I thought.”

His free hand lands on Katsuki’s hip, fingers pressing hard enough to burn through the fabric
of his pants. “You wanna act like you don’t give a shit? Like you don’t need me? That’s real
fucking cute , Kacchan.” Izuku’s voice drops lower, just above a whisper. “But we both know
you like it when I remind you who you belong to.”

A shudder rolls through Katsuki before he can stop it. He swallows hard, yanking his arm
back with more force than necessary. Because Katsuki is already too far gone, and it all
comes rushing to a head.

Because Izuku banned him from coming back to U.A.

Izuku fucking banned him.

And for what? So he could have more alone time with that fuck-ass teacher? Like hell.

Katsuki knew their arrangement wasn’t exclusive. He knew . They hadn’t fucked in two
weeks—not since he started noticing how close Izuku was with Fujikawa. Noticing how their
shoulders touched when they sat together, how Izuku’s eyes softened when he spoke to him,
how his fucking name kept slipping from Izuku’s lips in every. damn. conversation.

Katsuki isn’t stupid. He can do the math.

He knows what this is supposed to be. No strings attached . Just something physical. Just a
way to take the edge off.

But he came into this with every frayed, desperate string of his heart reaching for Izuku, even
when he knew better. Even when he told himself he could handle it. That he could settle for
scraps, so long as they were Izuku’s.

And it felt good—having Izuku’s hands on him, his mouth against his skin, his body pressed
close in the dead of night. Having the illusion of intimacy, even if it was just that. An illusion
.

Izuku treated him so well. Made him feel wanted . Like he was something precious,
something worth holding onto, even if it was only for the length of a night.

And maybe, for a while, that was enough.

But not anymore.

He shook his head, stepping back, ignoring the way his chest felt like it was caving in. “Just
leave it, Izuku. I’m calling it quits.”

Katsuki storms towards the window, pulse hammering, blood roaring in his ears. He needs to
leave before he does something stupid. Before he—

“Kacchan!”

Izuku’s voice crashes over him, raw and unrelenting, and then a firm grip latches onto his
wrist, yanking him to a stop.

Katsuki barely has time to react before he’s shoved against the nearest surface—Fujikawa’s
fucking desk.

Izuku looms over him, eyes dark, chest heaving.“So that’s it? You just walk away? Like you
don’t fucking care?”

Katsuki glares, shoving at his chest. “I don’t care.”

It’s a lie. A shitty, obvious lie.

Izuku sees right through him.

He always does.

“You wanna act like I don’t fucking matter to you?” Izuku growls, dipping his head down to
nip along Katsuki’s jaw. “Like you weren’t ready to rip Fujikawa’s fucking head off just
now?”

Katsuki stiffens, lips parting. “Shut the fuck up.”

Izuku chuckles darkly, fingers digging into his hips. “Nah, I don’t think I will.”

Katsuki’s head tips back as Izuku licks down his throat, sucking at the skin until it burns, his
grip tightening, possessive.

“You get so fucking pissy when someone else talks to me,” Izuku taunts, dragging his teeth
along Katsuki’s pulse. “And then you act like I’m the asshole.”

Katsuki’s breath shudders, nails biting into Izuku’s skin.

“You think I don’t see it?” Izuku’s voice drops, husky, teasing. “The way you look at me?
The way you want me? ”

His fingers slip beneath Katsuki’s waistband, pressing lower, dragging a groan from his
throat.

Katsuki exhales sharply, shoving at Izuku’s chest—except it’s not really a shove. It’s an
invitation. A challenge. A plea .

"You’re not gonna call it quits," Izuku murmurs, smirking against Katsuki’s skin. His voice is
low, taunting, laced with something dangerous. Something possessive.

And Katsuki hates how much he fucking likes it.

"You never were. " Izuku’s lips trail lower, his teeth grazing over Katsuki’s throat before
biting down, just enough to make him jolt. Just enough to leave a mark. A reminder. A claim
.

"Because I want you, Kacchan. All of you. "

Izuku sucks at the sensitive skin above Katsuki’s collar, slow and deliberate, leaving evidence
in the form of dark, blooming bruises—marks meant to be seen. Meant to be noticed.

And Katsuki lets him

Because this— this is what he fucking wants.

Izuku. All of him. Not just the scraps. Not just stolen touches and half-hearted denials.
And if Izuku wasn’t lying,if he meant it, then Katsuki isn’t going to be the one to pull away
first, so his fingers dig into Izuku’s arms, gripping tight, keeping him close.

Izuku hums against his neck, satisfied, before tilting his head, voice dropping into something
sinful. Something meant to break him.

"Bet you’d let me fuck you right here," he breathes, lips ghosting over Katsuki’s ear,
dragging his teeth along the shell. "On his desk. Bet you’d fucking love it."

Instead of answering, Katsuki yanks Izuku’s tie with a sharp tug, dragging him forward,
crashing their lips together. It’s messy, desperate—hungry—all teeth and heat, like they’re
trying to consume each other.

Izuku hums against his lips, the sound deep and pleased, before tilting his head and prying
Katsuki’s mouth open with his own. His tongue flicks out, teasing, licking at Katsuki’s
bottom lip before biting down—hard enough to make Katsuki groan into him, his breath
hitching. Then Izuku soothes the sting, sucking his lip into his mouth, drawing out another
sharp, breathy sound from Katsuki that he barely recognizes as his own.

Katsuki shudders, fingers tangling into Izuku’s hair, yanking at the soft curls, forcing him
deeper into the kiss. The friction between them is unbearable, his body wound so tight it
aches. He needs more.

So he grinds his hips against Izuku’s.

The contact is electric. His cock throbs at the delicious friction, heat pooling low in his
stomach, and he gasps at the sensation. And because his mouth is open—because Izuku is a
fucking menace—Izuku seizes the moment, sliding his tongue in and coaxing Katsuki’s into a
slow, filthy dance.

Izuku moans into it, the sound reverberating through Katsuki’s chest, making his entire body
burn hotter. His grip tightens on Katsuki’s waist, fingers digging into the flesh there as he
guides him—rolling his hips harder, deeper.

The movement is agonisingly slow, torturous in the best way, their bodies moving in sync,
pressing, teasing—daring the other to lose control first. Every touch is like a live wire,
sending shocks of pleasure up Katsuki’s spine, making his breath stutter, making him crave.

He’s dizzy when Izuku finally pulls back, his chest heaving, lips swollen and slick. A thin
string of saliva still connects them, and just as Katsuki’s dazed mind processes it, Izuku
smirks—utterly shameless—and licks it into his mouth, humming like he enjoys the taste of
him.

Katsuki’s knees nearly buckle.

“Fuck,” he pants, fingers still fisted in Izuku’s tie, his knuckles white. He refuses to let go,
refuses to give Izuku even an inch. “You’re—such—a fucking tease.”

Izuku’s grin only widens. “And you love it.”

Before Katsuki can snap back, Izuku leans in, pecking him once, softly, like a goddamn
contrast to the way he’d just devoured him moments ago.

“Clothes off,” Izuku murmurs, voice thick with command. “And no touching.”

Then he’s gone, turning toward his desk, rummaging for a bottle of lube hidden somewhere
inside. Katsuki exhales sharply, body still trembling, head spinning. He should be irritated,
should be shoving Izuku against the nearest wall for daring to walk away right now—but
instead, his fingers are already undoing his clothes, obeying without a second thought.

When Izuku turns back, bottle in hand, his breath catches.

Katsuki is sprawled out on the desk, flushed and bare except for his boxers, the fabric
stretched tight over his cock, the outline of him so obscene that Izuku’s mouth falls open.

A slow, knowing smirk curls at Katsuki’s lips. And that look in his eyes, sharp and daring,
like he wants Izuku to lose control, like he’s baiting him.

Izuku swallows hard, his grip tightening around the bottle.

Oh. Oh .

Katsuki isn’t just following orders.

He’s taunting him.

Izuku exhales slowly, forcing himself to stay composed as he steps forward, the bottle of lube
cool against his palm. He drags his gaze down Katsuki’s body—his strong thighs tense where
they’re spread, muscles flexing beneath Izuku’s grip. And fuck, his cock—thick, heavy, an
obscene outline pressing against his boxers—leaves nothing to the imagination. A wet spot
darkens the fabric at the tip, a clear sign of just how worked up he is, just how easily Izuku
can unravel him.

It’s ridiculous, really—how a cock that big is wasted on someone who folds so easily, who
shudders under Izuku’s touch, who lives to be taken apart.

Izuku groans, dragging a palm up Katsuki’s thigh, feeling the way his muscles twitch beneath
his touch. “Look at you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss against the inside of Katsuki’s knee
before sinking his teeth into the sensitive flesh. “Fucking perfect, Kacchan. All this, and you
still wanna be underneath me?”

Katsuki shudders, lips parting on a breathless sound, but he doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t argue.
Just lets his thighs fall open wider, his breathing ragged, his fingers twitching where they
grip the edge of the desk, like he’s barely holding himself together.

“You look good like this, Kacchan,” Izuku murmurs, kneeling between Katsuki’s legs, large
hands sliding up his thighs, kneading the muscle. “All laid out for me.”

Katsuki scoffs, but his breath catches when Izuku presses a kiss just above his waistband, lips
warm against his burning skin.
“Shut the fuck up,” Katsuki bites, but there’s no real heat behind it—only anticipation, his
body wound tight.

Izuku hums, amused, and hooks his fingers under Katsuki’s waistband, dragging his boxers
down at an agonising pace. Katsuki hisses as the cool air hits him, his cock slapping up
against his stomach, flushed and leaking. Izuku groans at the sight, wrapping a firm hand
around the base, stroking once just to watch Katsuki jolt.

“ Fuck- ” Katsuki grits out, eyes fluttering shut.

Izuku grins, slow and predatory, fingers glistening as he slicks them up. He presses a teasing
kiss to the inside of Katsuki’s thigh, humming at the heat of his skin. When Katsuki’s thigh
twitches—instinctive, reactive—Izuku bites, sinking his teeth in just enough to leave an
imprint.

Katsuki gasps, body jolting, but Izuku only soothes the sting with his tongue, laving over the
reddening mark, sucking just enough to make the blood rise beneath his skin. He savors the
taste—salt, sweat, Kacchan —before pulling back to admire the bruise blooming in his wake.

He presses another open-mouthed kiss lower, then another, until the inside of Katsuki’s thigh
is painted with a trail of possessive, aching love bites as he finally, finally drags one down,
tracing over the tight rim of his entrance. Katsuki tenses at first, but when Izuku circles his
hole, pressing just enough to tease.

“That’s it,” Izuku murmurs, pressing in just the tip of his finger, feeling the way Katsuki’s
body clenches around him, so tight and hot. He groans. “Let me in, baby.”

Katsuki swears under his breath, his fingers curling into the wood of the desk as Izuku pushes
deeper, slow and careful, watching every twitch of Katsuki’s expression. By the time he adds
a second finger, Katsuki is panting, pushing down to take him deeper, his body adjusting so
fucking perfectly.

“Jesus, Katsuki,” Izuku rasps, twisting his fingers, rubbing over that spot that makes Katsuki
jerk—his head tipping back, a strangled moan ripping from his throat. “So damn tight.”

“H-hurry the fuck up,” Katsuki grits out, hips rolling, trying to fuck himself down onto
Izuku’s fingers. “Quit fucking around—”

A sharp smack lands on his inner thigh, making him jolt.

“Patience,” Izuku warns, voice dark, lips curving. “I wanna feel you take me, stretch for me.
You can do that, right, Kacchan?”

Katsuki shudders, his body betraying him, and fuck—he hates how much he likes that tone,
that teasing control.

By the time Izuku adds a third finger, Katsuki is trembling, his legs spread wide, taking every
push and curl with ragged moans, his cock leaking against his stomach. Izuku strokes his
thigh soothingly, pressing a kiss just above his knee before slowly withdrawing his fingers,
watching the way Katsuki’s hole clenches around nothing.

“So needy for me,” Izuku murmurs, sitting up, slicking himself up with quick strokes. “So
fuckin’ pretty when you let me open you up.”

Katsuki glares, but his body betrays him when he lifts his legs a little higher, giving Izuku
even more space to settle between them.

Izuku groans, lining himself up, dragging the thick head of his cock through the slick mess
between Katsuki’s legs, teasing his entrance.

“You ready, baby?”

Katsuki doesn’t hesitate, eyes burning. “Fucking move .”

Izuku chuckles, then presses in, slow but firm, watching the way Katsuki’s mouth parts, his
brows knitting as he’s stretched open. The heat, the pressure—it’s unbearable, and Izuku has
to clench his jaw to keep from losing it right then.

Katsuki exhales sharply, his fingers flexing against the desk, trying to breathe through the
stretch. But once Izuku is fully seated inside him, thick and hot and so fucking deep, Katsuki
lets out a choked, breathy moan.

Izuku groans, leaning forward, pressing their foreheads together as he stills, letting Katsuki
adjust. “Fuck, Kacchan—”

“Move,” Katsuki demands, voice ragged, his body already shifting, his legs tightening around
Izuku’s waist. “Fucking move—”

Izuku growls and obeys, drawing back before thrusting in deep, setting a pace that has
Katsuki arching, gasping, fucking himself up to meet him.

And fuck, fuck , it’s perfect—the slick drag, the heat, the way Katsuki is coming apart
beneath him, taking every thrust with a moan.

Izuku leans in, biting at Katsuki’s jaw, breath hot.

“You’re mine , baby,” he growls, gripping Katsuki’s thighs, pressing him open as he fucks
into him harder, deeper. “Say it.”

Katsuki’s head tips back, mouth falling open in a silent moan before he finally chokes out—

“ Yours —fuck, yours, yours—”

Izuku growls low in his throat, gripping Katsuki’s thighs tighter as he fucks up into him, each
thrust hitting so deep that Katsuki sees stars. The desk creaks beneath them, threatening to
give under the force of it, but neither of them care—not when Katsuki is like this, taking
everything Izuku gives him, moaning like he needs it.
“Bet Fujikawa can’t fuck you this good,” Izuku grits out, punctuating each word with a sharp
thrust.

Katsuki shudders, his nails digging into Izuku’s shoulders, but he doesn’t answer, can’t, not
when Izuku keeps driving into him like this, making it impossible to think.

Izuku isn’t satisfied with silence. He wraps an arm around Katsuki’s back, flipping them so
Katsuki is sitting in his lap now, straddling him in the desk chair. Izuku’s cock never slips
out, still buried so deep inside him, so full, so good.

Katsuki gasps, thighs trembling as he adjusts, his arms winding around Izuku’s neck. He
knows this position means trouble—it means Izuku can get deeper , can fuck up into him at
his own pace, can make Katsuki work for it.

“You hear me, baby?” Izuku murmurs against Katsuki’s throat, lips hot against his skin, his
voice dark with something possessive. He wraps his hands around Katsuki’s hips, guiding
him up, then slamming him back down. Katsuki chokes on a moan, his whole body shaking
from the intensity of it.

“What’s your deal with him anyway?” Izuku presses, rolling his hips up, grinding so deep
that Katsuki whines, his nails raking down Izuku’s back. “I’m right here , Kacchan.”

He thrusts up, slow and precise, hitting just the right spot inside Katsuki, making him cry out,
his head falling back.

And it’s dumb—because Izuku already owns him, because Katsuki’s body has been moulded
by the shape of his cock, stretched and ruined just for him. Because Izuku knows exactly how
to break him apart, how to put him back together, how to make him feel like this, like he’s
burning alive in the best fucking way.

Why the fuck would Katsuki want anyone else?

But still—it’s so good, having all of Izuku’s attention, having all of Izuku’s focus locked onto
him. Having Izuku’s cock inside him, Izuku’s hands on him, Izuku’s mouth on him—

Katsuki swallows hard, chest heaving. He grabs Izuku’s face, forces him to look only at him.
“I don’t care about that extra,” he pants, rocking his hips, chasing that deep, toe-curling
pleasure. “Only want you. Only need you.”

Izuku’s eyes darken, something primal flickering in them, and then he snaps.

His grip tightens, his mouth crashes onto Katsuki’s, and he starts fucking up into him— hard,
deep, fast —so fucking good that Katsuki’s legs nearly give out, his whole body trembling
from the force of it.

“You’re mine,” Izuku growls against his lips, swallowing every desperate sound Katsuki
makes. “Say it.”

“ Y-yours, ” Katsuki gasps, his voice breaking, nails dragging down Izuku’s arms as he takes
it, takes all of it. “Only yours, fuck—Izuku—”
“Good fucking boy. ” Izuku groans, and when he presses a hand to Katsuki’s stomach, feeling
the bulge of his cock inside him, Katsuki shatters.

Izuku doesn’t slow down—not even for a second. His hands grip Katsuki’s hips tight, firm,
lifting and dropping him onto his cock, guiding him through it. Katsuki can barely keep up,
his thighs burning, his entire body trembling with the force of it. He’s so full, stretched wide
around Izuku’s cock, every drag and push inside him sending sharp sparks of pleasure
through his nerves.

And then Izuku moves him—manhandles him like he weighs nothing, twisting him around
until Katsuki is facing away, legs spread wide over Izuku’s thighs, the chair rocking with
every movement. The change in angle has Katsuki choking on a moan, his hands scrambling
for purchase on the desk in front of them.

Izuku hums in approval, gripping Katsuki’s waist and rolling his hips up, slow and deep,
forcing Katsuki to feel everything.

“Who does this belong to, Kacchan?” Izuku’s voice is rough, dark, possessive. His hand
splays over Katsuki’s stomach, pressing down just enough to make Katsuki feel him inside.

Katsuki shudders, his body clenching around Izuku’s cock, his head tipping forward.
“Fuckkk, to you—yours ,” he gasps, breathless, wrecked.

Izuku groans, his hands tightening, pulling Katsuki back against him so their bodies are flush,
so Katsuki has nowhere to run. “That’s right, baby. Only for me, right?”

Katsuki nods frantically, voice breaking, “Yes— yesyesyes —only you.”

Izuku presses his mouth to the back of Katsuki’s shoulder, sucking a mark into the flushed
skin. “Mmm, that’s it, pretty boy. Taking me so well.”

Katsuki whines, his head dropping onto the desk in front of him, his back arching under
Izuku’s touch. His body is shaking, pleasure winding so tight inside him that it’s too much
and not enough all at once.

He can feel Izuku’s eyes on him, burning into his skin, watching him fall apart, watching how
desperately he takes it, how much he needs it.

Izuku’s thrusts grow rougher, sharper, his grip bruising on Katsuki’s waist as he fucks up into
him, each snap of his hips sending white-hot pleasure shooting through Katsuki’s body. He
can barely hold himself up anymore, his arms trembling where they brace against the desk.

The chair rocks violently beneath them, the slick sounds of their bodies meeting filling the
room, drowning out everything else. Izuku’s breath is hot against Katsuki’s ear, his voice
rough, possessive, dripping with satisfaction. Izuku groans, his hands tightening, pulling
Katsuki back against him so their bodies are flush, so Katsuki has nowhere to run.

“Look at you,” he pants, watching the way Katsuki trembles, the way he clings to him,
desperate and needy. “Taking me so fucking good—made for me, huh?”
Katsuki can’t think straight anymore. Everything is heat and friction and pleasure, twisting
inside him so intensely he feels like he might break apart completely. He nods frantically,
words spilling from his lips without thought.

“Y-yeah—fuck—yours, ‘Zu, only yours ,” he moans, back arching, his head falling back
against Izuku’s shoulder.

Izuku growls, snapping his hips up hard, his cock grinding into that sweet spot inside Katsuki
that makes him see stars.

Katsuki screams, his entire body seizing up, pleasure tearing through him like a live wire. His
orgasm hits him so hard his vision blurs, his thighs clamping around Izuku’s as he spills
between them, his whole body convulsing from the force of it.

Izuku isn’t far behind. The way Katsuki clenches around him, the way he comes apart so
perfectly, so completely—it undoes him. With a sharp, broken moan, he thrusts up one last
time, burying himself deep as he spills inside Katsuki, filling him up, holding him still as he
shakes through it.

For a long moment, they stay like that—panting, sweating, clinging to each other as the
aftershocks ripple through them. Katsuki feels boneless, every muscle in his body weak, his
limbs trembling. Izuku’s hands are still on him, firm, grounding, keeping him from slipping
off his lap.

And then, when Izuku’s anger is finally sated, he moves—lifting Katsuki effortlessly, holding
him against his chest as he carries him bridal-style toward the showers. Katsuki doesn’t fight
it. He’s too spent, too wrecked, too sated to do anything but let Izuku move him as he pleases.

The warm water cascades over them, and Izuku works in silence, soaping up Katsuki’s body
with gentle hands, washing away the sweat, the stickiness, the mess of it all. His touch is
tender now, all traces of aggression gone, replaced by something softer, something intimate.

Katsuki leans into it, letting himself be taken care of, his forehead resting against Izuku’s
shoulder, his breath evening out.

“He was there, you know…standing by the door watching,” Izuku mutters, voice barely
audible over the shower. “I got mad.”

The words taste bitter, like guilt curling at the edges of his resolve. It hadn’t just been anger
—it had been possession . It had been mine , loud and consuming in his chest, drowning out
reason, clouding everything but the overwhelming, primal urge to prove something.

His fingers twitch against Katsuki’s thigh, brushing over faint bruises— his bruises—
evidence of the reckless, selfish way he had taken. And yet, Katsuki leans even more into his
touch, soft, pliant in a way that makes Izuku’s stomach clench with something dangerously
close to desperation.

“Is that why you turned me around?” Katsuki lets out a breathy laugh, tilting his head just
enough to look at Izuku, eyes lidded, soft in a way that makes Izuku’s stomach clench, “I
don’t care about him, only want you.”

Izuku stares at him for a long moment, something achingly soft flickering through his
expression before he exhales sharply, his lips twitching into the smallest of smiles.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, brushing wet strands of hair from Katsuki’s face.

Katsuki nods, lips quirking into a smirk of his own. “Yeah. Dumbass.”

Izuku huffs out a laugh, shaking his head before pressing a kiss to Katsuki’s temple. Then his
lips drag down, lingering at the corner of his mouth before he pulls back just enough to meet
Katsuki’s gaze.

“So that means you’re mine, huh?” Izuku murmurs, voice thick with something deeper than
lust, something undeniable.

Katsuki rolls his eyes, but the way his fingers tighten around Izuku’s shoulders gives him
away. “I just fucking said that, didn’t I?”

Izuku grins, bright and smug, like he’s won the greatest prize in the world.

“Nah,” he teases, tilting his head. “Say it properly.”

Katsuki glares, but it’s all for show. His heart is hammering, his stomach twisting—not with
nerves, but with something warm, something real.

“…I’m yours,” he mutters, voice rough. Then, because that’s not enough—not nearly enough
—he clenches his jaw, meets Izuku’s gaze head-on, and says, “We’re together, okay?
Dating. So don’t fucking forget it.”

Izuku’s breath catches. And then he’s beaming, his whole face lighting up in that stupid,
devastatingly soft way that makes Katsuki’s knees weak.

“Okay,” Izuku breathes, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like it’s the most natural thing
in the world.

Then he cups Katsuki’s jaw and kisses him—slow and deep, with none of the desperation
from before, just certainty. Just them.

Katsuki melts into it, fingers curling into the wet strands of Izuku’s hair, holding him close,
refusing to let go.

Because yeah. This—Izuku, them—isn’t something he’ll ever let go of.

End Notes

yeah… thanks for reading 🫶🏽 had to get this out of my system

twt & cass’ twt

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