MHA smut

Good For Me

Deku responds to unflinching gentleness and the removal of choice and autonomy much more than he does acts of brutality. Mostly.

"Deku," Katsuki repeats again, giving Deku time to properly hear him. He inclines his chin and watches the shadows begin to clear from Deku's eyes, the tense edge around his mouth beginning to soften. "I'm stressed the fuck out. Come make me feel better."

"Oh." Deku's mouth is soft and plush around the single sound. Deep, forested eyes slowly skim Katsuki's frame, lingering on his lap, then on Katsuki's stilled hands, then back to his unwavering gaze. He licks his chapped lips, swallows. Shifts from one foot to the other as Katsuki watches him wade through the stress and aimlessness of the past days, trying to figure himself out. "Um. Yeah. Yes. How? What d'you—"

"Take off your clothes," Katsuki says. It's an order. The way Deku softly, sharply inhales shows he knows it now. "Take your time. Let me look."

Katsuki watches the flood of color rise up the neck of Deku's sweater, surging through his soft cheeks and pinkening his ears. A rush of pleasure hums through Katsuki's blood in reply, enjoying the instant embarrassment Deku seems to experience every single time Katsuki wants to admire him. It's constantly amazing how Deku can be so unconscious of his body, so careless with it, until it comes time for Katsuki to look and appreciate and love on him.

"Drop the blanket," Katsuki says, starting Deku off when he seems to freeze in place, blushing harder than any high school girl.

Deku releases a shaky breath and lets the blanket whisper to the floor. Slowly, his scarred hands skim his waist, his crooked fingers, broken and healed so many times over, gripping the soft, heathered material of the sweater as he begins to lift it. His thick, sturdy waist is revealed, a spray of freckles across the subtle ridges of his abs, the ladder of his ribs appearing as he brings the sweater higher. Pink, tight nipples high on the swell of his pecs and the strong line of his collarbones emerge as Deku's flushed face is briefly hidden in the sweater.

"S'cold," Deku murmurs, his gaze downcast as he hooks thumbs into the band of his sweatpants. His stomach is scattered with tight, raised goosebumps.

Katsuki leans forward, tilting his head until he catches Deku's gaze. Holds the look, putting the weight of his will into it, the power of his authority growing in his low, even voice.

"This isn't about you. It's about what you can do for me. So, take off your clothes."

Deku suddenly forgets to go slow, but it's alright for now. There's time. Katsuki is going to take his time with him. Peel back the layers of Deku's anxiety and distress and aimlessness until he's open and raw and grounded again.

So, Katsuki watches Deku strip quickly out of his sweats, his breath kicked up a notch as he steps out of them with no underwear to show. His body is a fucking beauty as ever; all thick, strong thighs and shapely legs, cut hips and strong waist, proud chest and lithe, muscled shoulders and arms. He's a fucking sight, no matter how many times Katsuki gets to see him.

Years and years ago, he would have been afraid to look too long. Ashamed of his desire. Threatened by Deku's entire being and unable to show just how much he cares, and to what extreme the passion could rise.

Now, Katsuki simply settles back in his seat, fingers faintly digging into his knees to keep from touching, and looks. 

Because this is all his. No one else's. No city or country owns Deku like Katsuki does; and Katsuki does well to remind Deku of his on the regular.

Deku licks his lips, his gaze downcast as he goes to fold his arms across his chest, then quickly drops them, his hands flexing gently. The blush has traveled down his chest, a pretty watercolor stain in pink, a color matched by Deku's cock, just starting to thicken between his thighs and dark, wiry curls. His body can't help but react to Katsuki's silent assessment; the stroke of Katsuki's gaze across every secret part of him.