Written by: Hazel_Witch
Summary:
A scuttle of dice. The swift shuffling of cards. Crystal champagne flutes clinking together and the trill of tinkling laughter.
"Put it all on black."
Katsuki was feeling lucky.
Across from him, Izuku lowered his brows, green eyes glinting in the sparkling light of the chandelier. He looked gorgeous and deadly, and Katsuki wasn't having any of it.
_____________
At twenty-five, Katsuki Bakugou is living the dream. Household name, superstar actor, a starring role in the next up-and-coming big budget gangster flick. So why for the life of him can't he remember his motherfucking lines when his goody-two-shoes co-star is around?
_______________________________
A scuttle of dice. The swift shuffling of cards. Crystal champagne flutes clinking together and the trill of tinkling laughter.
"Put it all on black."
Katsuki was feeling lucky.
With a sideways smirk at the dealer (flat-faced lookin' kinda guy, weak behind the eyes), he leaned forward and pushed his stack of chips onto the dark, felt square.
Across from him, Izuku lowered his brows, green eyes glinting in the sparkling light of the chandelier. His hair was arranged in smooth, oily curls, swept back from his face so that each and every freckle was on display to the world. He looked gorgeous and deadly, and Katsuki wasn't having any of it.
"I'll match it," said the little green bastard, folding his arms, gaze trained steadily on Katsuki. "On red."
Oh, so he wanted to play dirty, huh.
"Yeah right, hot shot. As if you got what it takes when the stakes are this high."
Katsuki made his tone intentionally more taunting than usual, taking a long, emphatic drag from a Montechristo and leaning back in his chair.
Maybe others found it hard to stay poised in the swivelling stools that encircled the roulette table, but not Katsuki Bakugou. Nah. Because he was fucking cool.
Defiance flashed across Izuku's face.
"I think you'll find I've got exactly what it takes. The only real question is whether you can keep up with me."
Jeez. He was a feisty little fucker.
Katsuki opened his mouth and let smoke coil out into the air, savouring the aroma of sharp cedar and spice. Just to be petulant, he blew the remaining wisps directly in Izuku's direction.
"Oh, I got it alright, sweetheart. I got exactly..."
He coughed.
"I'm exactly the kinda guy..."
Ah, fuck.
"Cut!"
The lights rose up, the scene blanched in overhead fluorescent spotlights that made Katsuki squint. Several poorly concealed sighs huffed from over his shoulder - a telltale sign that the production staff were getting restless.
Okay, so it was nine-thirty p.m. on a Sunday when they'd all rather be at home with their families. It wasn't his fault the scene was taking so long. Yeah, sure, he was the one fluffing his lines, but it was Deku that was being so goddamn distracting. How was Katsuki supposed to fucking concentrate?
"The line is 'I got everything I need to keep up with you, sweetheart'," Mina said on her approach, flapping the script in Katsuki's face. "We've been over this a thousand times, Blasty, how many takes are we gonna need?"
Katsuki scoffed and flicked the prop cigar into the hands of a passing extra.
"Ain't my fault it's a dumb line. Who the fuck would be calling that guy sweetheart?"
He jammed a thumb in Deku's direction and rolled his eyes. His co-star was surrounded by cheerful members of the crew - a round-faced makeup artist fussing and fiddling with his hair, a laid-back sound engineer cracking terrible jokes - all of them charmed by his winning, sunshine smile and good manners.
God, Katsuki hated him.
"He's literally the nation's sweetheart, hon," Mina said, shaking her head at him and popping a hip. "And if you can't get along behind the scenes, I'm gonna have to think real hard about whether you're the right fit for this character. Time is money, ya know? Especially when it's mine."
Renowned director or not, she really knew how to get on Katsuki's nerves. He felt like flicking her the bird and telling her to shove her stupid movie up her ass, because he was Katsuki Bakugou, and he didn't need any of this shit. But then his agent, who also happened to be his mom, would make his life such a damn misery that it would barely be worth living.
So he had to suck it up.
Unable to say or do anything in his defense, Katsuki remained reluctantly quiet, guzzling a bottle of water that'd been handed to him by a production assistant.
"It's just so weird," Mina went on, as if he still wanted to listen to her blabbing. "You two have got such great chemistry on screen. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife."
The fuck?
Katsuki snorted, water spraying from his mouth in a fountain of incredulity, soaking the front of his costume.
"You gotta be fuckin' kidding me," he muttered, glowering at Mina. "I do not have chemistry with that idiot. Have you seen him? Goofy ass fucker. Don't goddamn insult me with that shit."
A terrified looking intern from wardrobe was already scurrying over, patting at the front of his red velvet tux with a Kleenex. Katsuki tried very hard not to snarl at her and pull away, despite how much he hated the intrusion into his personal space. See? He was trying to play nice.
Next to him, Mina sighed heavily and raised a walkie-talkie to her lips.
"We're gonna take a break everyone," she said over the white-noise crackle. "Crew - let's do a reset and come back in a few hours. Cast..." she threw a pointed glance at Katsuki. "You can head to your trailers. Seems like some of you could use a nap."
Narrowing his eyes at her, Katsuki wrestled out of his tuxedo jacket and handed it to the intern, who already looked on the verge of tears. If Ashido was gonna treat him like a cranky little kid, he sure as hell was gonna act like one.
He spun on his heel, stomping off in the direction of his trailer without a backwards glance, not even stopping to throw a scowl over his shoulder when he heard Mina's next exasperated comment.
"God, he's such a diva."
***
Several hours (and a few old fashioneds) later, after Katsuki's irritation had settled from a seething boil to a steady, rolling simmer, there was a soft knock at the sheet-metal of his trailer door. The small space had been perfectly designed to meet his specifications - it was one of the only upsides of the production thus far - decked out with dim spotlights and a sleek brown leather couch perfect for lounging on at the end of a long shoot. Someone had even sourced the specific sandalwood candles he favoured (shut up, it wasn't girly to light a candle now and again, fuck you), and the waft of woody scent always put him at ease.
The knocking was annoying, though, and he grunted at the thought of having to get back to set. Of having to sit in the makeup chair again and let them slather shit all over his face, the hairstylist grappling with his hair until it was tamed into a side-part. Hardly the sharp, spiky style he was known for.
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, heaving himself up and hauling his ass over to the door. "Calm the fuck down, I'm comin'."
The hinges creaked as it swung open, and Katsuki was just making a mental note to tell someone to get that shit fixed, when the source of his interruption was revealed. His eyes bulged, a vein beginning to throb at his temple.
Rather than a stressed production runner standing in front of him, it was his idiot co-star, bundled up in the heavy fur coat that was his character's signature (fake fur, of course, Deku had insisted on it). He peered up at Katsuki from beneath dark, feathery lashes, bright eyes looking hopeful and innocent and so goddamn infuriating it made Katsuki wanna barf.
"Kacchan!" he said cheerily, and Katsuki very nearly slammed the door in his face.
He managed to restrain himself (playing nice, playing nice), and just glowered instead.
"The fuck do you want?"
Deku cast his eyes down to his hands, extending them to present the container he was gripping between them.
"You didn't come to the catering tent when they served dinner. I thought you might be hungry."
Goddamn it. He struck again - Deku was always anticipating the needs of those around him, how did he know that Katsuki's stomach had been grumbling for the past half hour?
Shitty bastard was always trying to one-up him.
"You ever consider that I didn't show up over there because I want a few minutes of fuckin' peace and quiet?"
Katsuki crossed his arms and leaned up against the doorframe, puffing up his chest to further emphasise their height difference. At least it was something he had over Deku, whose smaller frame and dimples meant he was often typecast as the cute romantic lead, rather than the action superstar. This movie was a notable exception - a gangster flick that allowed Deku to flex his acting chops in a grittier, golden age noir aesthetic.
"Can I... maybe just come in?" Deku shuffled from one foot to the other, rubbing at the side of his neck. "I thought maybe we could run lines together, maybe get prepared for the scene so we don't keep messing up -"
"So I don't keep messin' up, haah? At least say what you fuckin' mean, Deku."
Green eyes widened in panic.
"N-no! That's not what I meant at all, you're an amazing actor, Kacchan -"
"It's Katsuki."
Deku had taken to calling him by the nickname used by Katsuki's fan club from the very first day they met. Presumptuous, to say the least.
"Sorry - Katsuki!"
With an almost pleading look, Deku stared directly into Katsuki's eyes.
"I... I didn't mean to offend you," he mumbled softly. "I just thought... it's been a long day, and I thought that maybe if we rehearsed a little we could crack the scene and then everyone could go home."
His irises were so damn unusual, famously hypnotic and always twinkling with energy, lighting up like a spark of green lightning. No-one ever dared to put Deku in contacts - his eyes were his trademark - gracing the pages of several teen magazines on an almost monthly basis.
It took Katsuki a second or two before he was able to tear his gaze away, clearing his throat noisily. Sure, the last thing he wanted was to spend an hour or so in close quarters with Deku, but the guy was probably right for once. If they could get things nailed down before the cameras started rolling, it would mean a shorter night for them all.
That way, he could head back to his hotel and sleep right through to the midday call time. Maybe even sneak in a gym session before he had to be back on set.
Ugh. Fine.
Giving Deku one last burning glare to communicate his annoyance, Katsuki let his arm fall from the door frame and took a couple steps back into the trailer, making sure to make an over-exaggerated sweep of his hand to gesture Deku to enter.
"Let's just get this fuckin' over with," he muttered.
Deku flashed him a set of perfect teeth and hopped up the steps like an overexcited bunny. Jesus Christ. The man had no shame.
"Great! Thanks Kacchan! This'll be fun!"
***
Unsurprisingly, Deku's definition of fun was very different from Katsuki's.
Speeding around the city in a Bugatti - that was fun - or sparring with his stunt coordinator - also fun. What was not fun was running the same lines over and over again with a guy who made Mother Teresa look like she could work on her fucking patience.
Throughout the whole drawn-out ordeal, Deku never showed a hint of irritation when Katsuki fluffed his lines, not even frowning once when Katsuki couldn't quite twist his tongue around the words. Instead, his eyes brimmed with understanding, gently saying "It's okay, we'll go again," and smiling sweetly each time Katsuki messed up. Slipping out of character as easily as he'd shed his fur coat.
It was disconcerting, the way he was able to switch from shrewd, ruthless high roller back to wholesome and compassionate heartthrob in a matter of milliseconds - it made Katsuki feel uneasy, unsettled.
Plus it gave him all the more reason to find him infuriating as fuck. Why did he have to be so goddamn talented? It was freaking obnoxious.
"Alright, nerd, can we call it a night yet?"
Katsuki stretched, rolling his shoulders. They'd been at it for at least an hour, had finally gotten to the point where they could run the scene without Katsuki slipping up, every word and facial expression committed to muscle memory.
In the time it'd taken, the candles on the sideboard had burned low, casting flickering light across the confined space. It was definitely past midnight, the normal hubbub of the set quiet in the distance, the night visibly dark through the small strip of skylight in the trailer's roof.
Setting his script down on the pop-out table between them, Katsuki rubbed at his eyes with a fist, poorly stifling a yawn. Late-night shoots had never suited his routine.
When he blinked his eyes back open, it was to find Deku studying him intently, elbow resting on the table and chin cupped in one hand. His gaze was searching, roving over Katsuki's face, making him feel stripped back and thoroughly examined.
The fucker made no effort to break eye contact when Katsuki glared back at him, just waited for another beat of silence before he spoke.
"Can I ask you a question?"
He sounded as sincere as always, holding Katsuki's gaze. No wonder schoolgirls lined up for hours to throw themselves at him - something about that look was spellbinding, like Deku was a charming little imp that enchanted everyone around him.
Katsuki fought hard to look away.
"Do I have a choice?" he muttered, staring off toward the far end of the trailer, taking nothing in.
He steeled himself for Deku's next question, forcing himself not to jump up from his seat and stalk away.
It felt like an age before he finally spat it out.
"Why do you hate me?"
Katsuki coughed involuntarily.
There was no bitterness in Deku's tone, no resentment or anger. Just... curiosity.
It made Katsuki wanna get the hell outta there.
"What kinda stupid ass question is that?" he grunted, crossing his arms so he would feel a little less exposed.
"I just... I don't understand what I've done."
For fuck's sake, why did he have to sound so goddamn apologetic? It made Katsuki feel like a Grade A asshole, like he'd stepped on a puppy's tail, or eaten the last pizza roll.
Huffing, he pushed himself back until his spine was flush with hard leather.
"Dunno what you're talking about."
Right, like Deku was gonna believe that. For an actor at the top of his game, Katsuki was being entirely unconvincing.
"I just... I can tell that something's off!" Deku insisted, voice slightly pleading. "You storm off whenever I'm around, you can barely even look me in the eye most of the time. I clearly make you uncomfortable and I - I hate it! I want us to be able to work together, Kacchan, I want us to get along. So if you could just tell me what I've done, then maybe I can adjust -"
"Look, you haven't done anything, okay?" Katsuki cut in, scrunching his eyebrows together so hard it kind of hurt. He dropped his voice another octave, as gruff and hushed as he could make it. "I just find you... difficult to work with."
Deku rocked forwards across the small table, getting closer into Katsuki's space. God, he even smelled nice, like fresh laundry and the tang of green tea. He probably wasn't even wearing aftershave, probably just smelled like that naturally.
"But... why?" Deku asked, mournfully. "Is it because I'm a bad actor? Or - or maybe it's hard to react to the way I deliver lines, or I'm a bad scene partner, or -"
"You want me to answer your fuckin' question or d'you just wanna sit there and speculate?"
Throat bobbing as he swallowed, Deku's lips snapped shut.
"Sorry," he mouthed.
In the pause it took for Katsuki to collect his thoughts, a solid drip thudded on the thin metal roof above them, followed by another. The steady patter of rain began a drumroll over their heads, as if the world itself was waiting in anticipation of his response.
No pressure then.
"It's... none of those things," he said, on the tail end of a long exhale.
God, he really didn't wanna talk about this. Would rather chew his own arm off than have to admit the facts.
"I just find you... really fucking distracting."
There was another long pause, Deku's head tilting to one side in confusion.
"D-distracting?" he said, chewing on his lip like he did when Ashido gave him notes after a scene. "What do you mean?"
So he was clueless, too. Great. Katsuki was gonna have to spell it right out for him.
Leaning forward until their noses were inches apart, he enunciated each word like he was speaking to a small child.
"Let me make it clearer for you, Deku," he said, harsh and combative. "I find you a-ttrac-tive, okay? Cute. Fuckin' sexy as hell. Every time I'm near you I wanna tear your clothes off and do all kinds of nasty, depraved things to you that the press would have a field day over. I can't stop thinking about what you look like naked, what you'd feel like underneath me, what your pretty little face would look like as I made you cum. Can't stop wondering if you'd cry when I fucked you and still beg me for more. Can't stop thinkin' about how well you'd take my cock if I gave it to you."
Deku's eyes widened, lip quivering like it had a mind of its own. Rabbit-in-the-headlights style.
"So, yeah. Distracting. Like I can't remember my lines kinda distracting. Like I can't fucking think whenever I'm around you kinda distracting."
Katsuki let his fist drop to the table with a thud, punctuating the end of each sentence.
"Like I wanna rail the living daylights outta you kinda distracting, okay? And I fucking hate it, so I fucking hate you. Does that give you a bit more goddamn clarity?"
Deku's lips had formed into a perfect round "oh", pupils wide and black, whole body frozen solid like he'd been caught in an ice drift. They were still unbearably close, Katsuki's face hovering inches from Deku's, ragged breaths tickling his cheek at irregular intervals.
"K-Kacchan," he finally mumbled, letting his arms drop to the table. "Y-you... you mean you like me?"
Katsuki scoffed.
"Fuck, I mean, let's not get carried away."
But still, he allowed his eyes to drift down Deku's face, over his confused expression and starburst scattering of freckles, over the permanent little crease etched into his cheek by his dimples, until his gaze landed on those full, pink lips. His pulse rocketed when they parted softly, opened to speak in that soft, honeyed voice.
"But... I would really love to get carried away with you."
Katsuki's eyes flitted upward, raising his eyebrows at the seductive note that had suddenly woven into Deku's voice.
"What do you -"
"You... You're saying you want me, right?" Deku whispered, all breathy and rich as a slip of velvet. The initial bewilderment was beginning to fade, beginning to be replaced by heavy-lidded eyes and a rosy flush to his cheeks. He looked up at Katsuki and his soft eyelashes literally fluttered. Goddamn. "Kacchan... Do you have any idea how long I've wanted you?"
Shit, well, it was official. Katsuki was gonna die of a heart attack. He could just see the headlines now: 'Beloved twenty-five-year-old actor taken too soon, thousands gather to mourn outside his swanky-as-fuck L.A. mansion'. Or some other shit along those lines.
Tension buzzed high in the air, a static charge that set his hairs on end.
Deku shifted forward another inch.
"Can I..." he whispered, eyes now lingering on the bottom portion of Katsuki's face. "Can I kiss you?"
No, there was no fuckin' way Katsuki was gonna allow Deku to be the one to make the first move.
"Not if I kiss you first," he grunted, before slipping a hand around the nape of Deku's neck and pulling him in to smash their lips together.
Frenzied, frantic hands found his face, fingers sliding up from his cheeks into his hair. Their mouths parted immediately and their tongues found one another, rolling together, hungry and wet. Deku tasted of candy (because of course he did), sweet and warm and welcoming, licking into Katsuki's mouth like he could paint every inch of it with his tongue.
The table dug into Katsuki's midriff and he fumbled with the locking mechanism to get the damn thing stowed away, grunting with surprise when a lithe body practically vaulted onto his lap as soon as it was down.
Deku had all the energy of a Duracell battery, straddling Katsuki's thighs and rolling his hips up and down against Katsuki's crotch until he was fucking rumbling with anticipation. It was like something inside both of them had finally been released, a prowling, snarling animal freed from its cage and ready to hunt down its prey.
Scrabbling fingers worked over the buttons of Katsuki's dress shirt, wrenching at them until several actually popped right off, and he had the very distant thought that they were going to incur the costume department's wrath.
Fabric shivered down his shoulders and Deku moaned again in a way that made Katsuki preen a little. He didn't spend all those hours in the gym for nothing, and having Deku's eyes rake over him with a sheen of awe was making the hardness in his tight-fitting pants swell even further.
"Fuck, Deku," he murmured as his co-star pressed his mouth to Katsuki's neck in a hot, eager seal. "Be fuckin' careful, no hickeys, or Mina'll kill me."
"Okay, Kacchan," Deku mumbled, nibbling at Katsuki's neck like he hadn't heard a word. "I'll be good, I promise."
Jesus Christ.
Working his hands down Deku's back, Katsuki grabbed palmfuls of plush, meaty ass, rocking him closer, grinding his aching crotch up to create as much friction as possible.
It still wasn't enough.
"Off," he instructed, shifting their weights so that he was lifting Deku onto his feet. "Get these fucking pants off and ride me, goddamn it."
The sound that tore from Deku's throat was sin personified, an erotic, throaty moan to rival any famous pornstar.
He obeyed, at least, scrambling with his belt and shuffling out of the pants with an exaggerated wiggle, eyes fixed on Katsuki through every second.
"Lube?" he asked, while Katsuki was wrestling his own pants over his knees, cursing at the way the fabric tangled and twisted, damn things.
"Over there."
He jerked his head toward one of the more discreet cabinets, and thanked his lucky stars he always made sure he was prepared for any foreseeable (or entirely unforeseeable) circumstances. Deku wrenched it open and groped around inside, clad only in a pair of tight, black boxers that accentuated the curve of his utterly biteable ass. He had a lean, muscular physique - smaller than Katsuki, but still well-built - athletic and slightly stocky and gorgeous, freckles dusted over every inch of skin.
After a few seconds of impatient fumbling, he turned back to Katsuki with a wide grin, lube in hand. He literally had a million dollar smile, Katsuki was pretty sure he'd heard it'd been insured for at least that much.
In one long, smooth motion, he slid his thumbs beneath the waistband of his boxers and slipped them to the floor, stepping out of them and flicking them aside with his foot. His cock bobbed up against his stomach, as flushed and rosy as his cheeks, and by God, if Katsuki didn't wanna suck it till Deku screamed.
But that could wait for another time.
Katsuki shuffled out of his own boxers, dick laying thick and heavy on his thigh. Deku blinked several times as he looked down at it, letting his gaze linger, before slowly working up Katsuki's abs, over his pecs, his heaving chest...
"You're amazing," he breathed, all raspy with wonder, and Katsuki couldn't help but flash his teeth in a grin.
"You expect anything less?"
"Arrogant."
Deku frowned, clutching the lube in hand and stepping forward to sling his legs back over Katsuki's lap. Nose to nose, Katsuki could make out the glint of wildfire lust in his eye, paired with a look of defiance he hadn't exactly expected.
"Do you know how to prep me?"
Katsuki snorted.
"Do I know how to fuckin' prep you - you serious?"
Plucking the bottle from Deku's hands, he flipped the cap and squeezed a hearty daub of gel over his fingers.
"I'll prep you better than you ever been prepped in your goddamn life."
Deku raised a single brow, hiding a chuckle in his words.
"Okay, okay. Didn't know how much experience you'd have."
This fuckin' guy!
Determined to show him whose name he'd be reciting before the end of the night, Katsuki reached around, trailing a finger down the seam of Deku's ass until he reached the soft, twitching spot between his asscheeks. He smoothed his index finger over it, tracing around the rim, flooding with satisfaction when Deku hissed in response.
Did Katsuki know how to prep him? What a fucking joke.
He slid a finger inside, marginally surprised at the way Deku's body gave way with ease, drinking in the moan that tore from his lips.
It was only a matter of minutes before one finger became two - curling softly inside until Deku jolted in his lap, eyes scrunched shut. By the time two fingers became three, Deku was a panting, sweaty mess.
"Ah, Kacchan - need you... need you to fuck me now, oh God - "
Katsuki required no further direction. It was this very scene he'd been imagining for the past three months. His time to shine.
Lights. Camera. Action.
He pulled his hand away and clutched at Deku's hip, lube smearing sticky over bare skin.
"Put it inside, then," he ordered, voice raw, and Deku reached down to oblige.
He gripped the base of Katsuki's shaft, lifting up onto his knees and guiding it carefully, slowly, sliding down with willful allure and tilting his chin up as oh - oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.
Deku was molten inside, total liquid gold and tight at the same time, soft, so soft, and his pace - he set to work on Katsuki like he was nothing but a sex toy, rising up and slapping himself back down against Katsuki's thighs with abandon.
His hands travelled up into his hair, gripping at the dark curls like it gave him something to hold onto, and all Katsuki could do was watch as one of the most famous men in the world rode him like a bucking fucking bronco.
All the anticipation of the preceding months had led to this, all the tense moments and stilted pauses and long, stolen looks, and it was all Katsuki could do not to come on the spot. Every roll of Deku's hips brought him closer to the edge, every slap and squelch and schlick of their bodies drove him further into madness.
The storm built beneath his skin, swirling a tornado in his gut, power and pleasure and a downpour of feelings he couldn't escape from, all building to a lightning strike crescendo as Deku impaled himself down on his dick -
"Oh, fuck, Deku, I can't fuckin' - I'm gonna -"
"Kacchan, yes, yes, yes, me too -"
Totally feverish, Katsuki grasped at Deku's bouncing cock, pumping it in hand, once, twice -
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.
The orgasm swarmed through him, a deluge breaking over his head and leaving him soaked - hair plastered to his face with sweat, high voltage sparks travelling through his every extremity and ending at the spot where his dick thrust up into Deku.
Deku pitched forward, pressing his open mouth to Katsuki's with a slide of wet tongue and a broken moan, clamping his arms around Katsuki's neck for dear life.
He continued to ride through the peak of it, lifting and dropping his hips until every last drop of him was milked, only pulling away from their kiss in order to take a shuddering breath.
"Wow," he whispered, almost breathless, and Katsuki could only nod in agreement.
"Uh huh."
"I guess we got carried away after all..."
"Guess so."
The rain thrummed on the roof of the trailer, Katsuki's heart pounding right along with it as he stared at his co-star. He looked debauched - pink from the chest up, eyes glazed, pupils black and wide.
Fuck, Katsuki wanted to keep him.
Lifting a hand to Deku's face, he traced flushed cheeks with his thumb, rubbing back and forth gently, committing the sight to memory in case it was the last time he'd ever see it.
"You know I don't actually hate you, right?" he said at last, voice hushed and gravelly rough. "How could I hate you? And I don't... I don't just want you like this."
They were still connected dick-to-ass - kind of a weird scenario in which to confess - but fuck it.
"I want you in every way," Katsuki clarified, cupping the side of Deku's face and giving it a tiny shake for emphasis.
Deku was looking down at him, eyes and mouth soft in the candlelight, his expression unreadable.
Katsuki waited with all the patience he could muster for Deku to answer, to say something. Several minutes passed and his stomach began to swoop and soar with something unfamiliar (not butterflies, he wasn't a fucking sap) with every additional second that ticked by.
Finally, when he thought he wouldn't be able to take it any fucking longer, Deku decided to speak.
"I think I -"
There was a harsh, quick rap at the trailer door.
Oh, fuck no.
"Blasty?" Mina's voice called, and Katsuki had never felt more vexed in his entire damn life. "We're ready to go now, we need you back on set. Giving you a five minute warning, 'kay?"
No it was not fucking okay. The timing could not be fucking worse.
Katsuki cleared his throat. They couldn't let anything on.
"Alright!" he shouted, trying to sound like he absolutely wasn't still balls-deep in Deku's ass. "I heard ya, Pinky, I'll be there."
Deku, who had gone stiff at the sound of Mina's voice, sprung suddenly into action, hefting off Katsuki's lap with a grimace and scrambling around for his clothes.
He looked like a reprimanded schoolkid, caught smoking behind the bleachers.
"I'd better go," he whispered, not looking up as he shoved a leg into creased tuxedo pants and shrugged into his fur coat.
As soon as he was decent, he scurried to the door, turning to give Katsuki one final flash of that megawatt smile.
"I guess I'll see you on set?"
"Yeah," Katsuki muttered, cursing Mina with bad luck for a thousand fucking years as he watched Deku's mess of curls disappear around the doorframe. "See you on set."
***
...Two Years Later...
Cameras flashed bright in Katsuki's eyes, practically blinding him as he posed in front of a rabid crowd of photographers and journalists, all calling his name and battling for his attention. Leeches, the entire fucking lot of them.
Publicity was the worst part of the job.
"Bakugou, Bakugou!" A woman with dark hair and an asymmetrical haircut shouted, thrusting a microphone toward him. "We've heard so many rumours about this movie, would you care to weigh in on the speculation that you had an ongoing spat with your co-star throughout filming?"
Katsuki ignored her, shifting onto the other leg and sliding a hand into his pocket, sending a smouldering look toward the cameras. At least he could work the red carpet like a pro.
"Katsuki!" Another reporter shrieked. He recognised her as a journalist from the gossip mag he most despised. "Is it true that filming had to take a break because you got along so poorly with Izuku Midoriya that the director had to intervene?"
God, they were insufferable. Katsuki was not gonna fucking rise to it.
All he had to do was get through the next couple hours and he could go home and play white noise through his speakers until he passed out.
"Katsuki, over here!"
"Mr Bakugou, what's your favourite colour?"
"Is it true that you only eat hot sauce and rice cakes?"
Fuck, he really hated them all.
Just as his last shred of patience was about to tear right in two, just as he was about to storm off back to his limousine, a hand trailed across Katsuki's shoulders, smiling lips quickly brushing his cheek.
Immediately, his heart soared with relief, a feeling of serenity calming his thoughts.
"Hey, baby," he murmured, slipping an arm around a familiar waist.
"You looked like you needed saving," Deku said softly, talking right into his ear. "What do you think, shall we give them something to print tomorrow? Keep them all in jobs?"
Katsuki turned to him, rolling his eyes, but grinning nonetheless.
"Well someone's gotta do something fuckin' notable around here," he said, reaching up to fix Deku's slightly wonky bow tie.
Then, in front of a thousand camera flashes and just as many astonished gasps, he pulled his boyfriend in for a world-changing kiss.
How about that, motherfuckers?
https://archiveofourown.org/works/42043395