Thread by @MmeHatter

🥦💥

tags: public vibrator, alcohol, aged-up, bartender AU

popping my #DKBK cherry for the ever lovely @Chocobeans8 🍒🍒 Thank you so much for all your support!!!

Be gentle, I'm 𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘥 🥹

“I’ve been glued to the bar, flirting with you every night for five days straight and you still won’t give me your number.” Hanta throws his arms up, all sloshed and dramatic, and Izuku can’t help but smile, thoroughly amused. “Be real. Am I just not your type?”

Izuku flinches. “No, no! You’re totally my type.” He reaches for the vodka behind him. “You’re 𝘢 type.”

“Mmhm, yeah, okay. What type is that?”

“The type of loser who’ll open their legs for anyone who looks them in the eye for more than five seconds,” a new voice interjects.

Izuku shivers. Oh, he knows that voice.

“𝘖𝘰𝘰𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘵, look who came out to play,” Hanta croons, swiveling in his seat and patting the bar stool next to him. “It’s Kaaacchannnnnn.”

Kacchan aka Bakugou Katsuki, who used to be a regular at the club. He’d come every Tuesday night when the crowd was thin, sitting on the side of the bar that Izuku always served. He always came alone, never danced, and ordered the same drink every time.

Sometimes he’d come with a stack of textbooks, which the other bartenders teased him for, but Izuku liked cleaning glassware beside him, listening to him rant about philosophy and ethics.

“Bakugou’s here?!?!” Eijirou exclaims, gesturing a few other friends over.

He plops onto the other seat next to Katsuki and turns to Izuku. “This calls for a celebratory shot, don’t you think?”

Izuku nods and grabs a stack of shot glasses from under the bar.

“If Kacchan’s out, y’all know what that means,” Hanta says, elbowing Katsuki with an evil grin. “Someone’s tryna’ fuck tonight.”

“Hip huggers and a v-neck, you 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 he’s tryin’ to get laid,” Mina teases, giving Katsuki a sloppy kiss on the cheek as she walks by.

“Boooooooo,” Denki says, leaning over Eijirou to glare at him, but ducking when Katsuki tosses a stray olive from someone’s drink in his direction.

“Boooo yourself.”

“Why you causin' trouble?” Hanta demands. “The man hardly stays up past his bedtime, give him some credit.”

Denki huffs, snatching the first shot glass Izuku fills. “Bakugou’s competition. Of all the blond twinks in this club, we’re 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘺 the most fuckable—”

“Easily,” Hanta repeats, rolling his eyes in Katsuki’s direction.

“BUT,” Denki continues, “for some unknown, ungodly reason, people tend to go for 𝘩𝘪𝘴 ass.”

“So, basically you’re salty because Kacchan gets more dick than you?”

“Yee.”

“You’re being an idiot,” Katsuki drawls, taking the next shot glass from Izuku. When he mouths ‘thank you’, Izuku (rightfully) blushes.

“No, I’m not,” Denki argues, swaying his glass so much that Izuku has to refill it again. “Bartender, what’re your thoughts?”

Izuku blinks. “About what?”

“Who would you rather fuck?” Denki asks. “Bakugou ‘with a stick up his ass’ Katsuki or pretty little me?”

“Pretty little you has a boyfriend twice my size,” Izuku points out with a cheeky smile. “I fear for my life. I would definitely pick him.”

“Is that the 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 reason?”

No. Of course not.

“That’s the only reason that matters,” Hitoshi says, materializing from the crowd. He slides behind Denki, slipping his arms around his waist and nodding to Izuku who hands him a shot glass.

“Izuku and I go way back, he knows to tip me off if someone even tries to lay a finger on you.”

Denki gasps. “Wait, 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 the reason people don’t hit on me?!?! What kind of boyfriend are you??”

“The kind who’ll fuck you so hard you’ll have trouble sitting the next day."

Hitoshi downs his shot and slamming it on the counter. He waves hello to everyone before briefly squinting at Katsuki. “Bakugou. Always a displeasure.”

“Shove it, Eyebags.”

“I always do,” Hitoshi replies.

He grabs Denki by the elbow as the DJ cranks up the music and people start flooding to the dance floor. “Did we come here to drink or did we come here to dance?”

“Both!!!” The rest of the party replies before following the two to the dance floor.

Normally Izuku would use this time between customers to catch his breath, except to his delight Katsuki’s still here, slowly sipping his shot. Izuku watches him out of the corner of his eyes, cheeks pink and heart racing, wiping the counter and waiting for him to drain his glass.

When he does, Katsuki looks up and pauses, taken aback by Izuku’s gaze. Then, he smirks, tight-lipped and pretty before giving him a full once-over.

“Hey, nerd. Long time.”

So long. Three months of wondering if he’d ever return or if Izuku would ever get a chance with him.

Or if he had lost it completely.

“I was beginning to think you moved out of town,” Izuku says, taking the shot glass out of his way.

“Nah, law school’s just kicking my ass and I can’t afford to go out drinking as much as these losers,” Katsuki says, waving a hand behind him.

“Well, then this one’s on me.” Izuku slides a gin and tonic his way, dropping a couple of sliced limes near the rim.

Katsuki smiles into the glass before taking a sip. “You remember.”

“I keep copious notes of all my customers’ drinks,” Izuku says proudly.

Katsuki smirks, leaning on the bar to give Izuku a knowing look. “'Course you do.”

“I also remember the last time I gave you something other than a G&T, you climbed on top of the counter and got into a heated debate about Descartes—with yourself. I had to confiscate your keys.”

“Christ, I remember that.”

“I’m surprised you remember 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 from that night.”

“I remember you walking me home,” Katsuki says, discreetly reaching for Izuku’s hand and Izuku doesn’t realize it until their fingers brush against each other. “And inviting you in.”

Izuku flushes from head to toe, and he has half a mind to snatch his arm away in his panic, but he resists, carefully hooking their fingers together instead. “I suppose I was trying to be a gentleman.”

“I wasn’t looking for a gentleman.”

“Oh. 𝘕𝘰𝘸 you tell me.”

They both giggle at that, their hands now playing a shy game of tug-of-war. It feels familiar and warm in ways that it shouldn’t, not between two strangers. Izuku can’t deny the mysterious force that keeps him close to Katsuki nor does he try to fight it.

“So,” Izuku says, prying his hand away to dodge the judgy stare his fellow bartender is starting to give him from across the bar, “what brings you out of your cave tonight of all nights?”

Katsuki shrugs, tracking Izuku as he tidies the shelves. “Felt lonely. Restless.”

As do many people who frequent this bar. “Anything I can do to help?”

“There is.”

“More alcohol?” Izuku muses. When he turns back around, Katsuki is sliding over a small oval-shaped remote control, although to 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 is beyond him. “Is this…a key fob?”

“A remote control.”

“To what?”

“You ask too many questions. Press a button, find out.”

Izuku smirks, plucking it from the counter. “For all I know, you’ve rigged all our screens to this thing for your own sadistic pleasure—”

He freezes. He can see Katsuki grinning from behind his glass. His gut tightens and the control suddenly feels heavy in his palm as he realizes that the remote is indeed for Katsuki’s pleasure. He swallows thickly.

“Nerd figured it out.” Katsuki licks his lips and sets his glass down. “What’re ya thinkin’?

“Most men give me the key card to their hotel rooms,” Izuku teases quietly.

Never have they given him control of their vibrator.

“I can’t wait that long.”

Oh 𝘨𝘰𝘥.

It’s hard not to crack, it really is, especially because he can make Katsuki writhe in his seat with a push of a button. Whittle a man who’s completely out of his league down to size.

“If we get caught, they’ll fire me and ban you.”

“We won’t get caught,” Katsuki promises with a mischievous grin. “And even if we do, it’d be worth it.”

Izuku can’t disagree. He slips the remote into his pocket just as Hanta reappears from the dance floor.

“Kacchan, you’re supposed to be dancing with us!” Hanta doesn’t give Katsuki a chance to turn around, just throws himself at him, arms around his neck, lips close to his ear. He steals a glimpse at Izuku. “Are you two flirting?”

𝘍𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨? 𝘜𝘴?

Izuku shakes his head, vehemently denying any sort of thing for the sake of preventing a club-wide scandal, before accidentally maybe-on-purpose tripping the power button on the remote.

Because he just 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 help himself.

There’s a glint in Katsuki’s eye as he deliberately avoids Izuku’s stare, but he blushes and rolls his shoulders as he shifts in his seat. Izuku can feel his jeans tightening as he clocks in every subtle reaction.

“Well, that answers my question,” Hanta says, plopping into the seat next to Katsuki. “Bit of advice: I’ve been working this one”—he gestures to Izuku—“for almost a week, he’s as strait-laced as they come.”

“Is he?” Katsuki murmurs, voice low and thick. “𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘥 to believe.”

“𝘚𝘰 hard,” Izuku whispers softly, eliciting an even deeper shade of red on Katsuki’s face. He smiles smugly and redirects his attention to the group, now crowding the bar for another drink. “Another round of shots?”

There’s a resounding yes and Denki starts a chant as Izuku lays half a dozen glasses in a row, free-pouring tequila into each one. He tries to keep his eyes on the drinks, but his gaze drifts back to Katsuki who’s staring vacantly at his cocktail, hands clenched in a tight fist.

“A toast!” Hanta exclaims, raising a glass.

“You too,” Katsuki murmurs, as he and others reach for a shot glass. Izuku nods and pours another for himself.

“Now let’s see,” Hanta says, reclining back on the bar. “To the nights we’ll never remember”—he winks at Katsuki, who squints back— “with the friends we’ll never forget.”

Everyone drinks and Izuku decides to slip a hand in his pocket.

And press another button.

Katsuki chokes as he downs the shot, spluttering tequila all over his shirt, groaning as he braces himself against the bar. All of his friends snicker behind their glass and Izuku trips another button just to see him squirm some more.

“You good, dude?” Hanta asks, grabbing a napkin and cleaning Katsuki off the best he could. “What’s wrong with you?”

Absolutely 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 given the wave of pleasure flashing across his face. He swats Hanta off him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I’m f-fine, tape f-face.”

Hanta frowns. “Hey, if you’re gonna be sick, maybe you should head home.”

“I s-said I’m 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦.”

“I’ll take care of him,” Izuku says gently. He lowers the setting and notices Katsuki relaxing again, sweat dripping down his neck. “Everyone’s back on the dance floor.”

Hanta looks back at his friends all disappearing back into the crowd.

He hesitates before giving Katsuki’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You sure you’re good?”

Katsuki nods and that seems to be enough for Hanta, so he scurries away, leaving them alone at the bar again.

“No, really,” Izuku says, leaning forward to catch Katsuki’s gaze. “You okay?”

Katsuki chuckles silently. “I think I just came in my pants.”

Izuku’s eyes widen, mouth bone-dry. “Did you?”

“No, but I was close.”

They laugh, their hands finding their way back to each other, and it’s clear that neither of them can stand being away from each other. Katsuki looks at him as if there’s no one else in the room and Izuku can only imagine the things he’d do if they were truly alone.

“So,” Izuku whispers, slipping the remote between their palms even though Katsuki has no intention of taking it back, “how does it feel?”

“This setting's good,” Katsuki says, leaning until their foreheads touch, their lips so close that Izuku can practically taste gin and lime.

"What's it like?"

“Like a low steady hum.”

Izuku’s thumb brushes over a button and presses lightly. “How about this?

“Fuck…” Katsuki shuts his eyes and squeezes Izuku’s hand, moaning softly. “Mmhm. Yeah, I like that.”

“Yeah?” Izuku breathes. “Tell me.”

Katsuki bites his bottom lip. “It’s like… slow, short pulses. If I close my eyes just like this I can imagine sitting on your cock and it’s just”—he slides a hand between his legs and Izuku sucks in a sharp breath—“throbbing inside me.”

Fuck.

“You doing this for me, Katsuki?”

Katsuki snorts. “I’m doing it for 𝘮𝘦.”

Izuku lifts an eye and trips the setting, and Katsuki jolts up, gasping.

“Are you being completely honest?”

“Hnngg...” Katsuki squeezes Izuku’s hand, leaving red fingernail marks on his skin. Izuku has a hard time peeling him off or tearing his gaze away, even when other patrons are trying to hail him down for a drink.

He likes watching Katsuki crumble, his face contorting like he’s holding back a moan. When he starts to roll his hips back and forth in his seat, Izuku leans across the bar, planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

“I’m going to ask you again,” he whispers in Katsuki’s ear. “You doing this for me?”

Katsuki exhales, reaching for the front of Izuku’s shirt. “Yeah.”

“How often do you think about me?”

“All the time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Izuku lifts Katsuki’s chin with a single finger and presses their noses together. He side-glances to make sure a fellow bartender isn’t watching before bridging the gap with a tender kiss.

When Izuku nips his lip, Katsuki mewls.

“Tell me, Katsuki. What do you think about?”

Katsuki’s eyelids are heavy when his gaze drifts back down to Izuku’s mouth. “You don’t wanna know.”

Izuku gulps. “I do.”

“I think…” Katsuki sighs, squeezing Izuku’s hand again and Izuku can tell that Katsuki’s close.

“I think about you grabbing me by the hair. Dragging me to the nearest alley. Fucking my brains out. You’d cum deep inside me, you wouldn’t be able to help yourself. Then plug me up so I can remember how good you made me feel.”

Katsuki looks at him all disoriented.

And Izuku doesn't hesitate to take the bait.

“I can’t guarantee the alleyway is free…” Izuku purrs, tripping one more setting on the remote. “But the wine cellar is.”