When you were very young, if you'd lost something, your mother always told you to retrace your steps.
Lost your favourite toy? Where did you last have it?
Can't find your sparkly pink bike helmet? Go backwards, we'll go to the park and see if you left it there.
But lost your mind in your twenties? Dickmatised by your boyfriend's best-friend? That would be hard to find a way back from.
You tried retracting your steps. Truly, you did. Rifling through memories like a madwoman, trying to pinpoint the exact moment everything seemed to change. When being sure became something you didn't remember how to be and suddenly all you're left with is questions. Endless questions.
You know when it changed for Izuku. Could see it in his eyes the night this whole misalliance started. Staring at his best-friend balls deep inside of you like it's the most beautiful display of erotica he's ever seen. But you and Katsuki? That, you're not sure you'll ever really figure out.
You look for answers in every interaction, every delusional, harmless display of affection. That stupid, late night cigarette that kickstarted this entire thing.
Spiky tufts of blonde hair, dishevelled by wind and the fact he's clearly been running his fingers through it, turn on you to reveal a moonlit face you'd grown to find a strange comfort in over the last 5 years.
"What're you doing out here? You don't even smoke."
The pack between your fingers trembles slightly in the wind. It's bitter enough to warrant a jacket, which you left inside, but just warm enough that the liquor swirling your stomach is enough to keep you from shivering. He eyes the open box, silent in his judgement and you roll your eyes, taking a cigarette between your lips as you fumble for a lighter.
"Quit judging. We don't all deal with our stress by punching the shit out of people for a living."
You're closer now, leaning over the railing beside him as you light the end over the high rise balcony of this fancy, new apartment. Yaoyorozu and Todoroki's house warming party. Though, really it's more Yaoyorozu's, and Todoroki disappeared half way through the night, probably to lock himself in the nearest guest room and avoid socialising altogether. Clearly, you and Katsuki can relate.
He eyes the cigarette between your lips, the way your sticky gloss leaves a pink residue around the paper as you pull it from your mouth and exhale a long puff of smoke. It's hard not to wonder what he's thinking when he looks like this— all cool and collected and mysterious. He turns back to the busy streets below before replying, "Deku buying you the cheap shit now?"
"Hm?" You hum, taking another drag as you study his face from this angle.
"The cigs." He motions toward the paper between your lips with his shoulder, eyes on you once more, "They're not the ones you like. You smoke camels."
You stop mid exhale for a moment, turning the steadily burning cig over in your fingers like you're only just realising that for yourself for the first time too. "Oh. I guess you're right." full exhale, "I picked up the nearest pack to the counter on the way here. Didn't really have a lot of time, you know how Izuku gets about being late."
He hums in acknowledgment at this, a shared experience for the two of you. Except, Katsuki's probably been dealing with Izuku's compulsion to being on time for a lot longer than you have.
There's a beat of silence. Comfortable silence. Cosy silence. The kind you don't often find when Bakugo's around. It leaves you time to study the side of his face, the jagged scar across his cheek that glows in the pale light of the moon and you notice how relaxed his jaw is for once. Just loose enough to soften around the edges, which makes him look almost inviting. You think he looks beautiful like this, mull over the urge to tell him. As friends, of course. You're not sure why you don't.
"You didn't answer my question." You tap the ash over the balcony, avoiding those crimson eyes and the almost definite scrutiny in them. That's just how Katsuki is. Always observing. Always to himself.
"Why're you out here all alone?" You eye with something dangerously close to concern that makes his chest squeeze uncomfortably and for a moment he almost looks winded as he looks back down onto the amber flashing of the traffic lights down below.
"No party is your kind of party." you laugh, sweet and melodic, and he glares at you. You hold your hands up in mock surrender, "Not my fault you hate everyone." You sway, only really because the balls of your feet are really starting to hurt in these heels but he watches you like he's ready to catch you if you fall. You know he would, too.
"I don't hate everyone." The grumble he talks in isn't very convincing, which he can tell by the raise of your eyebrows, so he doubles down. "I don't hate you."
You scoff, but it holds no malice, just that light-hearted banter between old friends. "You tolerate me because you love Izuku."
A snort, "See, another person I don't hate."
"So the only two people you don't completely hate are me and your childhood best-friend?"
He pretends to think about it for a second before replying, "Your sister's okay." You really laugh at that— the hearty, unashamed kind— leaning over the railing like a madwoman, head thrown back against his bicep kind of laughter. Katsuki only scrunches his nose, "What's so funny?"
"The only other person you could think of was my sister?" You're wiping invisible tears from the corners of your eyes and he thinks you're being a little dramatic, but he doesn't point it out.
"She's. . .funny." He tries to defend, but it doesn't even sound convincing to his own ears and he cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth. You only laugh harder, doubling over until your hands are on your knees and you're practically folded in halve over a joke he didn't even mean to make.
"You've met her once! And all she did all night was make fun of Izuku!"
He simply rolls his eyes, but you don't miss the way the corners of his mouth threaten to pull up into a smile. "Yeah, okay, laugh it up. At least you won't catch me on the front page of a newspaper." Another giggle from you, one that has him wondering if it's always been so easy to make you laugh, and if so why hasn't he heard that kind of laugh from you before?
"Wow, okay. Here you go with the whole 'You're too nice (Y/N), don't talk to strangers (Y/N)' lecture again." You roll your eyes, but your smile doesn't leave.
"Maybe I'm sick'a savin' you." He grunts, and you audibly gasp.
"That was one time! How was I supposed to know that guy wasn't actually looking for the nearest phone box?"
He shakes his head, "He was wearin' a fuckin' balaclava."
"We were outside the club! It was dark!"
"You're just lucky I was standin' outside."
"Oh yeah, my knight in shining armour." You tease, leaning further toward him again just to poke him in the side, which he winces at. You furrow your brows, and he clearly doesn't want you to ask by the way he's shuffling a little further away and avoiding your eye. "Are you hurt?"
"It's nothin'. Just a little scraped up from my last fight."
"Let me see." You press, moving closer until your hands are bunching up the hem of his sweatshirt and he's stopping you with two hands on your wrists.
"I'm fine, don't worry about it."
"I don't believe you." You mumble, pushing the hem further until you're able to catch a glimpse of the blackened skin of his torso. You gasp almost immediately, shoving his clothing further up until he's practically shirtless in front of you, typically pale skin bloomed in shades of yellow, purple and straight up black as he grunts and winces with the strain of the movement. "Fuck, Katsuki, have you had anyone take a look at this?"
"You're lookin' at it right now, aren't you?" If you weren't so concerned, you would've shoved your fingers into his sides over his ability to give such a snarky comment while you're just trying to help.
"You could have internal bleeding, how long have you had this?" You look up at him, eyes wide and brows furrowed, and he knows he doesn't deserve this. Doesn't deserve this kind of doting, nor the painstakingly gentle glide of your fingers across his abdomen. Featherlight touches lighting sparks across his skin, and if he weren't so focused on the light flooding in from the party still very much in full swing behind you he might have let you do this for as long as you wanted.
But then the doors are sliding open, noise pollution spilling into the quiet cocoon of space the two of you had made for yourselves away from it all and a familiar mess of green curls is stumbling out. So Katsuki does what he does best, he pulls away.
"Baby!" Izuku drawls, attaching himself to your side like he hasn't seen you all night and in seconds it seems you've managed to forget all about Katsuki's injuries. "Been lookin' for you everywhere. Thought you ran away." He mumbles into your skin, nose pressed to where your neck meets your jaw and you laugh— that same mirthful giggle as before— and he knows he deserves even worse for the way his ow smile drops at the scene in front of him.
"I've only been out for like ten minutes, Izu." You chuckle, nails running over his scalp the same way they had run over Katsuki's skin moments prior and he wonders what it would feel like to know you meant it.
"Too long." He sighs, body falling limp in your hold like it's the best thing he's felt all night, which it probably is. You let him breathe you in for a moment before you're catching Katsuki's awkward gaze over the thick block of muscle that is your boyfriend and pushing him upright with a smile that's anything but the slightest bit annoyed at his inebriated behaviour. Just quietly amused, like this whole thing is endearing for you.
He only seems to notice Katsuki when he stands to his full height, eyes lighting up the same way they always did when he was faced with his best-friend and he's quick to pull him into the embrace, mumbling an excited "Kacchan, you're here too!" as he holds the two of you in an uncomfortably close, three-way hug and you're left a tangle of limbs on your friends' balcony.
"Get the fuck off me, nerd." He struggles, but you just smile and wrap your arms around the two of them, like this is the most normal thing you've done all night and he knows deep down if the two of you let him he'd stay here forever. It's only when Bakugo mumbles, "You're crushin' your girlfriend." that Izuku lets up, releasing the two of you from his sweaty embrace in favour of swinging his arm around your shoulder as he sparks up whatever random conversation his drunken brain seems to want to have and the two of you are left shooting eachother lopsided smiles over how adorably drunk your boyfriend is.
But that was normal. At least, you try to convince yourself it was. Glancing over at that familiar mess of curls as it snores a blissful symphony of exhaustion beside you.
You sigh, sitting up and scrubbing your hands across your face. You'd have to look closer. Closer to when this all began and you find yourself circling back to the same night over and over, the night all these fruitless fantasies solidified into something real.
Kirishima was one of Izuku's many friends that you decided to love wholeheartedly the first time you had met him way back in university. He had started the conversation with fussing over how in love the two of you were, how you were all Izuku seemed to talk about for the last six months and how excited everyone was to finally be able to put a face to the name. The two of you bonded over your shared affection toward the freckle faced boy pretty quickly, which soon blossomed into a valuable friendship over the years.
Bakugo, however, didn't seem so pleased to see him.
"Yeah, whatever, Shitty hair. I'm not staying for long."
That familiar grumble only made the red head erupt into hearty laughter, slapping an arm around the irritated blonde as he drags him to the private table Mina made sure to book in advance for such a large party.
He spots you and Izuku first, curled up against eachother in the wide booth as you nurse the edge of a half empty wine glass, the drink sparkling in the dim, yellow light. Izuku holds what looks to be some kind of fruity cocktail, which Bakugo refrains from making any sort of comment on as he slides into the booth beside you, that same, lint covered hoodie sliding up his forearms as he glides them across the sticky table.
"Kacchan! How did it go?" Izuku sits up, leaning across you to converse with his friend, who slouches back against the booth like he wants to be anywhere else right now.
"Kicked his ass. The dumb extra gave all that talk just to get knocked out second round."
The table erupts in cheers, a few of the girls holding their glasses up in celebration of his win and he looks down at his grazed knuckles as if to avoid the attention.
"Man, I wish we coulda seen it. Future heavyweight champion Bakugo Katsuki!" Denki cheers once more, waving his glass that spills over the marble tabletop and Sero gets up with a grumble in search of a napkin.
"You didn't give him too hard of a beating though, right?" Mina asks, sliding in to claim Sero's empty spot across the table from the three of you. "I mean, you still let him get up after?"
"Nah. Kid's six foot under. Showed up to invite you guys to the funeral." He jokes, but his face remains sat in that same old scowl despite it.
"I wouldn't put it past you, Bakubro. Sometimes you turn into a beast in the ring." Kirishima returns with a tray of shots, placing them on the table and offering the first to Bakugo, who politely declines.
"Aw, come on, Bakugo! This is your first night out with us in like. . .forever!" Mina whines, and Denki nods beside her.
"You won the fight man, now's the time to let loose a little!"
"If Kacchan drank each time he won a fight, this would be an intervention." Izuku chimes in beside you, taking a sip of his drink with his free hand that isn't slung over your shoulders.
Katsuki gives a nod of approval beside you, but you lean forward to push a shot glass each in front of the three of you. One orange, one green and one bright purple with little shimmers floating around inside. "I'm sorry we didn't get to come watch, the least you could do is celebrate the win with us." You suggest, urging him to take his pick.
He thinks for a moment, lips pursed like he's mulling it over before muttering, "Fuck it." and making a grab for the orange glass, downing it in one without waiting for you or Midoriya to take yours alongside him.
The table erupts in cheers again, watching like giddy teenagers as Bakugo swallows hard, face screwing at the bitter taste of the hard liquor disguised as 'sweet' on the menu.
"(Y/N) the Bakugo whisperer! Teach me your ways!" Kirishima laughs, hand slamming the table a few times as you shrug, a coy smile painting your lips.
"Maybe I'm just better than all of you." You tease, fingers wrapping around the pink glass as you nudge Izuku to take the vibrant green beside it, sharing a glance before downing each of your shots in sync with one another.
"Yeah," Bakugo coughs, still processing his own drink, "or maybe she's the only one with a fuckin' brain."
"I dunno, she's been with Midoriya for. . . how many years?" Denki jokes, earning him an elbow from Mina.
You smile at the mention, fingers interlocking with his against your lap, the denim skirt you're wearing riding up slightly with the movement. "Five. Next week."
"Ugh! You two are like. . ultimate couple goals!" Mina gushes, face pressed to her hands against the table like she's witnessing true glory up close.
Izuku smiles at that, turning to press a kiss to your cheek and pull you a little closer to his side, which in turn has the whole table erupting in childish coos. "To many more." He practically beams, retrieving his original glass just to clink it with yours against the table and take another swig, which you return.
More cocktails, a few rounds of karaoke and a boat load of shots later and everyone seems to have found themselves their own little space in the crowded bar.
It's late, probably later than it should've been, and Katsuki has to continuously remind himself that he's supposed to be 'letting loose' and to relax his shoulders each time they wind up by his ears.
He's drunk. Not wasted, he offered to be the sober driver because he didn't trust either of you to make it home in one piece, but enough to feel the tingle in his fingertips as they rest against the thighs of his jeans in the bar stool he's found himself perched upon. Beside him, Deku's humming along to some cheesy pop song he doesn't think he's heard before, umpteenth drink in hand as he sways slightly with every new melody that blasts through the crackly speakers.
You're not far. Maybe about a metre or two away, bent over the bar as you point at the row of colourful bottles behind the barman, dictating which one you'd like to choose for your next round, which you graciously offered to provide for the two boys. Your two boys, as you called it.
It was funny, being called yours. Izuku didn't seem to mind, of course he didn't. He was yours. Had been since the day he sat next to you in his first aid course, vital for becoming a teacher, though you had been pursuing nursing at the time.
Katsuki only became yours by association. He was Izuku's, he knew that. Didn't need to be said, nor addressed. He just was, always had and always would be. Things worked out that way, worked just fine and didn't need to be messed with. But then you came along, and suddenly there was a new person to not completely hate. A new person to laugh at his rude, and probably inappropriate, jokes. A new set of tastebuds to try all his cooking. A new set of his hands to clap and a voice to cheer his name in the stands of a boxing ring. A new place in that cold and withered heart of his to be filled.
You became part of him, because you were part of Izuku. And now, the three of you were part of eachother. He thinks maybe you all share part of the same soul, which he would never admit out loud, because if anyone asked he didn't believe in that corny shit. But he did. Seeing you and Izuku it was hard not to believe two people could be made for eachother, and he thinks maybe you were kind of made for him too.
So hell, if you wanted to claim him as yours, he wouldn't stop you. As long as he got to exist in your guys' orbit.
You shoot them both a smile over your shoulder as you wait for the drinks to be prepared, that same drunk flush in your cheeks he knew meant trouble even on a good day. You're tapping your nails against the bar, waiting patiently like the good girl you are, when a familiar intro has your entire body lighting up.
"Oh my god! It's our song!"
You're darting over to take one of Izuku's hands in yours, pulling him to his feet with no complaints as you fight to take Katsuki's in your other. He lets you hold it, but doesn't budge, shaking his head. "No way. I'm stayin' here."
"Kacchan! Don't be boring! You love this song!" Deku pouts, arm wrapping around your waist on instinct to toy with the hem of your cropped shirt.
"You love this song. I suffer through it every time I give you two a ride because I have to."
"I see you tapping your fingers against the steering wheel every time it plays!" You argue, nodding along with Izuku.
"That's a nervous habit." He grunts, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweatshirt.
"No, that's a nervous habit." You correct, motioning toward his fingers, which quickly flex into balled fists at your acknowledgment. "You tap when you enjoy things!"
"I don't." He practically growls, but the blush across his cheeks gives him away almost immediately and Deku's already dragging him to his feet with a lot more force than you had.
"You so do!" He laughs, already beginning to sway with you as he drags Katsuki with you as collateral. "You tap your feet every time you listen to Foo Fighters!"
It's loud on the dance floor, cramped with sweaty bodies and the three of you have to shout to hear eachother now. "I like the drums!" He tries to argue over the sound, but the two of you have slipped into your own little world, dancing hand in hand to the beat of your favourite song.
He's too stiff too dance. Surprisingly uncoordinated despite his profession, so he settles for watching the two of you instead. You're so close you may as well be part of eachother, chests bumping with each bounce of your heels and laughs mixing into one breath as you twirl and spin around one another. Deku takes your hand in his, extending his arm to spin you once or twice before you're collapsing back against his chest, head thrown back in that same joyful laughter as the night on the balcony.
This goes on for a few more songs and a few more rounds of shots, which Katsuki declines under the excuse of him driving, until he's herding the two of you into his vehicle at god knows what time and grumbling about making sure you get home safe.
He helps you into the backseat, tries to with the help of Deku, who's still reasonably sober compared to you— a mess of flailing limbs and wet kisses pressed to your boyfriend's chubby cheeks as they box you into the backseat.
Katsuki's just about to round to the drivers side, Deku in tow with the passengers seat before you're grabbing him by his collar and begging him to stay with you.
"Don't leave me alone, Izu. Sit with me." You whine, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and he looks a little embarrassed at how publicly you're seconds away from groping him in front of his best-friend, but Katsuki just nods, urging him to join you, which he does, like the dutiful boyfriend he is.
The car rides filled with awkward silence as Katsuki tries to focus on the road, on anything but the way you're practically straddling Izuku in the rearview mirror, legs slung over his lap and your tongue hot against his neck as you sigh into him, sweet little murmurs about how cute he is, how much you love him. All the things that should be done in private.
"Baby, we're in the car." Deku mumbles when you try to turn one chaste peck into multiple open mouthed kisses, practically salivating over him before you've even made it to your side of town.
"He doesn't mind." You whisper, teeth running along his throat in a way that makes him stifle a groan. "Do you, Kacchan?" You lean forward, into the front seat and Bakugo has to grit his teeth to stop himself from swerving off the road.
It's the first time you've called him that. The first time you've called him anything besides his government name and something about it being Deku's name for him that you're using makes his stomach flutter.
His lack of answer is enough for you, and you're plopping yourself right back into Izuku's lap and pulling him in by his hair for a sloppy kiss. "See? I told you. He's a good friend, he doesn't mind."
A good friend. God, if he was a good friend he wouldn't be fighting so hard to stay in control just from watching the two of you like this. Wouldn't be driving one handed just so he can keep adjusting his jeans to make sure neither of you catch a glimpse of the bulge that's threatening to rip out of his zipper. Wouldn't be driving the speed limit just so he gets to keep the two of you in his backseat for longer.
He unlocks the door with a button from the drivers seat when he pulls up outside your shared apartment. Nothing but a soft 'click' of the lock opening to say goodbye. But that, obviously, isn't enough for you.
You're stumbling around to the passenger seat window, knocking on the glass and begging him to roll it down just so you can lean into the glorious smell of his leather seats a little longer and take a deep inhale, sighing out that, "Your car smells so good, Kacchan. Smells like you."
He buffers for a moment. Flexes his hand on the steering wheel and eyes Deku over your shoulder through the passenger seat window like he's asking for permission to accept the compliment.
"Could you help me get her upstairs?" He asks. A genuine favour from his best-friend, for your boys to help put you to bed and he'd be a real asshole if he said no.
So he helps lumber you up four flights of stairs, eventually opting to carry you bridal style up the last two after you and Midoriya nearly rolled down the second. You're babbling the whole time, running your nose along his hairline and taking slow breaths like he's a pack of camels and you're trying to get in as much smoke as possible before he burns out.
"Izu says you smell good, too. Says he likes keeping your sweatshirts 'cause they smell like you. Isn't that cute, Kacchan?"
He ignores you because he doesn't know what else to do. Because Deku's got his back to him, practically marching up the stairs and he can almost feel the scarlet of his cheeks from here. Because a good friend wouldn't embarrass him by acknowledging this. And he's trying so hard to be a good friend.
He only places you back on your feet when you touch down on the floor of your shared apartment and the doors safely closed. Only takes his hands off your waist when he's sure you can stand. Deku still won't make eye contact, and he thinks maybe this is his punishment for letting things carry on so long in the car.
But then you're pressing your face to his chest, nuzzling against him like you've forgotten which one's which and sighing into him, "We love y'so much, Kacchan. You know that, right?"
He rubs a hand over your back. Doesn't know why. Trails his fingers through the ends of your curls and even pulls one around his finger just to feel it bounce back like it was never there. Like this will all be a distant memory tomorrow morning and you'll go back to being his best-friend's girlfriend. That this will have never happened.
Deku's watching him now. Not angry, just quiet. Eyes glassy and kiss-bitten lips parted like he's seeing him for the first time. Like he's watching some sort of puzzle fall into place and suddenly the warmth of your body pressed against him is gone and you're trailing back to Izuku, running your nails over his scalp the way you had before and pressing sloppy kisses to his jawline.
Katsuki thinks he should leave. Knows he should. But he doesn't, stands there like he doesn't know where to put himself, holding eye contact with his best-friend while you lick a long stripe from his jaw to his cheek and break into that familiar grin.
"He can stay, can't he, Izu?" You hum, shooting Katsuki an assessing glance before whispering, "I think he wants to watch."
It's so fucking twisted, which must be why he stays. Must be why he watches you palm his best-friends cock through his jeans, wishes it was his. It's why he obeys when you tell him to, "Sit.", legs spread wide across your sofa as you clamber yourself into his lap, Izuku right behind you, hands trailing your side like he's been waiting for this as you run your nose along his Kacchan's jaw.
"You're so lonely, Kacchan. So sad and lonely. We want to help you." You whisper, and he thinks he feels tears brimming his lash line, eyes falling shut as the first one falls, cascading down his cheek, only to be lapped up by your hot tongue against his skin. "'S okay," you coo, carding gentle fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp just right in a way that makes him preen, groaning to the touch, "You don't have to cry. We've got you."
Your fingers bunch the hem of his sweatshirt, lifting it over his head and he doesn't fight. Raises his arms and lets you pull it off, only to be thrown somewhere and surely be kept by the two of you. The bruise is healing now, more yellow than purple, almost green in places, but still tender enough to warrant care and you are oh so careful with him. Sliding down until you're on your knees between his legs, pressing kiss after kiss along the lean muscle of his abs, across the blood-rushed skin and his head lolls back against the sofa, only to be caught by Izuku's hands in his matted hair, keeping him upright.
"Stay awake, baby. We can't take care of you properly if you don't keep your eyes on us." He chastises, but his voice is so fucking gentle. So fucking sweet and Bakugo thinks this must be some kind of fucked up mind game, some cruel trick to mock him for how badly he wanted this.
"I'm sorry." He chokes out, voice thick with tears but Izuku only shushes him, hand rubbing over his hairline to push his sticky hair from his forehead and run his thumb over the silvery scar there.
"You don't have to be sorry. You never have to be sorry. Not with us."
He nods, because what else is he supposed to do. Glassy eyes trained on the only constant he's ever known as he lets his girlfriend run her tongue over the waistband of Katsuki's jeans. He feels like he's floating, the only part of his body he's still in control of being his hand flexing at his knee. Tensed, like he so desperately wants to make a grab for your hair, and Izuku think it's adorable how much he holds himself back for fear of overstepping a line that isn't even really there anymore.
Does Katsuki know he wants him to fuck you? He fights a grin at the thought. His dumb, fucked out best-friend all flustered when he realises that he's allowed to have this. That he'll willingly give it to him.
Still, he does find it a little inconsiderate that Kacchan's the one getting all the attention. After all, it's him that splits you open almost every night. His cock that you crawl home to, his name that you whisper while you sleep, his couch in the apartment he bought you on the first viewing just because you said you liked the windows, and now Katsuki's about to be the one to claim your mouth first on that very same couch.
All it takes it two firm taps against your shoulder and you're stilling almost immediately, fingers tucked in Katsuki's belt loops as you pull back to look up at your boyfriend, a dopey grin on your face. He smiles, running a soothing hand across your cheek and tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear— "Why don't you show him how you do it first, hm? Don't wanna overwhelm him."
You blink up at him a few times— these slow, loving, cat-like blinks— ping ponging between his face and Katsuki's crotch as if mulling the idea over in your head before a wicked smile spreads across your face and you're turning to face him, hands already pawing at his zipper. He laughs, stroking a palm over your scalp to rest at the back of your head as you smile up at him, giddy with anticipation. "Let me sit down first, baby." He takes a seat on the opposite couch, leaving nothing but a small, hickory coffee table between the three of you and pats his thigh expectantly, "C'mere."
You perch in between his knees like this is the only thing you've been waiting to do all day and you almost purr when he caresses your jaw. "Open." He commands, but it isn't rough. Just firm, casually dominating in a way that's almost out of character for him. You obey, even going the extra mile to slide out your tongue and tip your head back. He presses his thumb against the muscle, pushing it flat against your chin with a hum, "That's it. Good girl. Little wider, sweetheart."
You always get like this when you drink. All soft and pliant, begging to be fucked dumb. To be bossed around so that tired little brain of yours doesn't have to put in any work. It's funny really, jarring almost and he gets off on the idea of how stunned Kacchan must be right now. How untoward this must be for him. To see you, the headstrong loudmouth you are, knelt between his knees like a fucking house pet and letting him guide your mouth over his cock.
It's not always like this. Sometimes he's the one kneeling, which is equally just as fun, but it's what makes times like this always so special. They don't come often, so when they do, who is he to deny his sweet girl of what she so desperately needs? What kind of boyfriend would that make him? And now that you have an audience he's only all the more intent on thoroughly pleasing you in front of your guest.
It's messy when you swallow his cock. Drool peeking down the sides of your lips, pooling at the tufts of bright green hair at the base of him and you moan over him when his hand finds the base of your hair, fingers curling through the strands, a gentle reminder that he's there. "Doin' so good, sweet girl. You're so beautiful. So perfect." His hazel eyes twinkle at you, round with adoration and Katsuki nearly chokes on his own tongue when they land on him, "Isn't she, Kacchan?"
His knee jumps, "Yeah. Yeah, she's— she's great." His chest heaves, voice tight like the air burns and Midoriya's brows furrow, unsatisfied.
"Great? Is that—" he moans, loud and unfiltered, when you constrict around the tip of him, never breaking eyes until he's ready to continue. "You can do better than that. I know you can."
"I don't—" he grits his teeth, eyes screwing shut as he presses his feet hard against the parquet flooring in the effort to steady his legs, "Fuck, what do you want me to say?"
He smiles at that, eyes falling back on you, head tilting to the side in that unashamed admiration of the girl beneath him. "I think you're making him nervous, honey." he addresses you directly and you look up, humming in acknowledgment before releasing him with a 'pop.' You sit up a little higher, turning to Katsuki with a wet chin and wide eyes, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before looking back up at Izuku like you're waiting for permission for something. He nods, chin tucked toward Katsuki, "You can help."
You're up in seconds, leaning down to give your boyfriend a passionate kiss, tongue slipping into his mouth and your fingers curling around his jaw before your eyes lock on Katsuki.
They're different now. Smaller, no longer wide with love but narrow with something else. Lust, maybe. Or maybe this is a punishment. A reckoning. Karma for all the late night phone calls, the stolen brushes of skin in dimly lit classrooms, the silent claim he's kept over your boyfriend since they were children that never really went away. Not even after you, not even while craving you just as badly. Whatever it is, you look you're about to eat him alive, and he thinks— knows he's going to let you.
You grip his chin with two fingers and his entire being shifts, world spinning on its axis like your touch has just given him every reassurance he needed to be okay with this now. Just for now. To have his cake and eat it too.
You straddle him again, thick thighs bracketing his hips and he fights off a groan at the heat of your skin through the denim. "Do you want me to help you, Kacchan?" It's a simple question. So fucking simple, but his brain short circuits. He blinks, dumbly, and you pout at him. "We don't have to do anything—"
Two strong hands grip your hips, keeping you flush to him, panic set in the intensity of his hold. "No. I— shit." His voice breaks, he tries to bite it back. "I wanna fuckin' ruin you." The admission flies out of him and his lips set like he wants to drag it back in as soon as it leaves, but your entire body seems to lit up at his confession, head turning over your shoulder to shoot Izuku a look that reads as slightly amused. He nods, slow and convincing, from his position on the couch and it's only then Katsuki registers the steady stroking of his hand over his cock.
You lean in, hands braced against his shoulders and lips brushing his ear with a lazy smirk, "I think it's going to be the other way around."
Izuku always fucks you well. He's slow, considerate, intent full with his touches. Pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you with practiced hands after a particularly long and trialling day.
But katsuki? Katsuki fucks like he wants to do damage.
Hips rutting against yours with so much force the couch scrapes across the floorboards a little with each thrust, filling the room with creaks and slaps of wet skin against skin as he groans over you, "Wanted to do this for so long. Fuck, bet you wanted this too, didn't you? Couldn't fuckin' help yourself." His hot breath fans your face with each pant, eliciting spark-like tingles across your skin and all you can do is nod and reach for him, nails scraping along his back in a way that makes him arch his spine, burying himself into you that little bit deeper.
"Shit, you're so tight. Couldn't wait to get me like this, huh? Bet it's all you two freaks think about each time he fucks you." He's babbling, totally pussy drunk and it comes out more volatile than either of you could have expected when he stepped through the front door. "Does he like seeing you like this? Like watching you cream on another man?" Izuku is still sitting directly opposite the both of you, but he hasn't been directly acknowledged by either of you, save for the way your eyes flick to the hand pumping his leaking dick every so often, since Katsuki first slipped it in. You mewl, which isn't a direct denial, but Katsuki still smirks above you, crimson eyes dropping down to watch the way you quiver around him before flitting back up to your face. "Or is it just me? Only me that gets to fuck this pretty pussy while he watches?"
"Just— just you. Only you."
His jaw goes loose, swollen lips parted as a guttural groan rips from his throat. "Yeah, fuckin' right it's only me." a particularly hard thrust knocks the air from your lungs, "Only me."
He's confident now. Cocky just from the way he's got you, dumb on his cock, and it's enough to have him turning over his shoulder with a shit eating grin, addressing Deku directly with, "You watchin', nerd? Look at how fucked out she is, all dumb on my cock." he mutters, turning back just to run his eyes over the way your tits jump with the stuttered breath you take in at his humiliating words.
Izuku smirks, uncharacteristically smug for him. "I think she likes you, Kacchan."
He laughs, breathy and hoarse, "Ya fuckin' think? Clenchin' me like her life depends on it."
You remember now, how something had shifted deep inside your gut. How those boys, your boys, had shifted your entire being.
You think you find it now. Here, in this memory. Of Katsuki between your legs, and Izuku by your side. The best of both worlds, both of your worlds, in one place.
You realise that nothing is lost. Nothing was ever really found. That this was there all along, from the day you were seated next to that bushy browed, green haired boy on the first day of first aid training way back in University. You might not have officially met Katsuki then, but deep down you know you had. That in knowing Midoriya, you knew him too. Because it's possible to love one without loving the other.
And you know now, that it's okay to love both. Because fuck, you do.
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