Izuku didn't know what the hell was happening to him anymore.

Moving in with his boyfriend had been a dream come true. Their first apartment together—small, a little messy, but theirs. He should be floating. He was—but lately, there was something else constantly buzzing in the back of his brain. A low hum of want he didn't quite know how to deal with.

It started when his boyfriend got really into this whole "new beginnings" mindset. Hitting the gym more. Running in the mornings. Pushing himself harder than ever before. And god—he looked good. Lean muscle under tighter shirts, sweat-slicked skin from workouts, a cocky smirk whenever he caught Izuku staring a little too long.

But it wasn't just the body. No, that would be easier.

It was the smell.

Izuku had always liked how his boyfriend smelled. Clean, masculine, warm—like home. But lately? After the gym, when he came back flushed, breath heavy, skin still hot from exertion? It was like a drug. Earthy. Salty. Raw.

And now it was consuming Izuku's every waking thought.

He used to sneak in a little closer at night just to breathe him in. Pretend it was nothing. A comforting habit. But now? Now he was getting hard just thinking about it. Just from catching a whiff of his boyfriend's sweat-soaked shirt or feeling the residual warmth clinging to their shared bed.

He hadn't told a soul.

Until tonight.

At a bar. Six shots in. Loose-tongued and warm all over, Izuku let his horny, scent-obsessed brain spill out onto the table like a bad secret.

"Do you guys ever like..." he mumbled, head lolling slightly as he blinked up at his friends, "...really love how your boyfriend smells?"

"Like...cologne?" Uraraka blinked.

Izuku giggled. "Nooo, like—him. Sweaty, worked-up, all...mmm." He shivered, grinning like an idiot. "He just smells so fucking good..."

Uraraka gave a nervous little laugh. "Uhm...I mean, I guess?"

"What?!" Izuku frowned, slumping dramatically over the table. "You've never wanted to like...live in his armpit?"

That got some shocked laughter, but Iida was already bristling. "Midoriya, I really think this is—"

"Yeah, yeah," Izuku groaned, rolling his eyes. "I'm drunk, I know." He pouted, arms crossed like a sulky teen. "but i don't wanna go hoooome yet..."

Uraraka leaned in with a sly grin. "But he is home."

Izuku paused. Bright green eyes blinked slowly. "...yeah You're right."

The cab ride home was a blur of flushed cheeks, tight jeans, and trying really hard not to palm the obvious bulge pressing against his pants. He was so not sober, and his body? Not helping.

By the time they reached the apartment, he tossed some cash at the driver and stumbled up the stairs like a man on a mission. The second the door clicked shut, he groaned, dragging a hand over the persistent heat in his pants.

"Seriously...not now," he muttered to himself, trying to will it away.

But then he stepped into the bedroom—and there he was. His boyfriend, sprawled out on the bed, shirtless, hair still slightly damp from sweat. Scrolling through his phone like he wasn't the hottest fucking thing Izuku had ever seen.

"Ughh... I drank too much," Izuku mumbled, climbing onto the bed without asking. He collapsed half on top of him, only to suddenly freeze.

That scent.

It hit him like a wall. Thick. Musky. Fresh sweat and warmth and him.

"You didn't shower...?" Izuku asked, almost hopeful. His voice was rough, eyes glossy with arousal, he fidgeted at the uncomfortable tightness in his jeans as he stared at his boyfriend with an curious intensity.