MHA smut

The Path That We Follow

Written by: SpicyJam

Summary:

Katsuki settles on his knees in front of Izuku, a laugh rumbling in his chest as he reaches to tuck the fabric behind Izuku's neck and urge him forward.

"Shy already? I haven't even touched you yet."

"You're touching me now," Izuku shoots back, unaware of the consequences it may bring in the form of Katsuki's fingers.

He lets out a soft "eep" as Katsuki immediately descends upon him, letting his large hands drape across Izuku's shoulders only to push him flat onto his back. Izuku is cushioned as he falls, but he grunts on impact anyway. Any words building in his chest get released instead as a breathless moan when Katsuki dips his fingertips beneath Izuku's kimono to touch the bare skin.

"Not in the way you really like," Katsuki says with a hum. "But I will, soon."

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Where Izuku is life, Katsuki is fire and ash and pain. Somehow, despite everything, Izuku will always choose him

Notes:

This fic is based off of the Japanese myth(s) of creation, where Izuku is a direct descendant of Izanami (one of two 'parent' gods who created the other Japanese deities) while Katsuki is a far off descendant of Kagu-tsuchi, the son that killed Izanami during his birth.

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Ash and dirt compact underfoot as Katsuki takes measured steps up the dormant mountain. The magma inside has yet to erupt for generations, and with Katsuki's extended lifespan thanks to his godhood... it's been centuries, by now.

The black soil stains his boots darker and packs down with his weight. If the threads of his hakama weren't made by immortal hands, the stains set upon them would never come out. As it is, the physical memories of the historical eruptions simply brush away from the fibers and fall harmlessly to the side.

Katsuki treks after already-fading footsteps, freshly set by the man he's foolishly followed for his entire life so far.

Izuku is waiting for him at the lip of the mountain, for them to slide into together and find their cave. Besides the two of them, not any other soul is brave enough to spend their free time in a dormant volcano.

"Kacchan," Izuku's warm voice greets him at the apex of the path.

Katsuki's shoulders drop, relaxed, as soon as he hears the familiar tone. Izuku's body is facing the sunset, but he tilts his head toward the sound of the footsteps he hears approaching.

His smile is outlined in the eclipsing sunlight. The shadows from his long hair hide a few of his beautiful freckles, and the sleeves of his haori hide the rest as he lifts a palm up to tuck the wayward locks behind his ear.

Katsuki was very young when he first set eyes on Izuku. His hair was dark like the forest after rain, and his eyes like grass in sunlight. He was of the beginning and the dawn.

A direct descendant of Izanami, goddess of life, of creation before she was killed.

And Katsuki? Descendant of her killer: Kagu-tsuchi; her son who killed her with the heat brought forth from his birth. The one who kept her in pain for the last few days she had in the overworld, until she breathed no longer and was swept away to the underworld next. To decompose and rot and be left behind.

Where Izuku is life, Katsuki is fire and ash and pain. He is the blood one tastes on their tongue when their lungs give out after running for their lives.