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There are a couple of solid, undeniable truths when it comes to Class 1A, and they are (in no particular order):
One: they’re a collaborative mess of students full of the kind of determination that makes them perfect candidates for herodom.
Two: they’ve been through hell. Literally. Like, that place your soul goes when you die if you haven’t been a model citizen — depending on your religious beliefs, of course. The point is that they’ve been there numerous times because a certain, permanently face-palming villain likes to make video game analogies.
And they’ve survived to tell the tale — much to the dismay of that cocky asshole from Class 1B.
Three: Izuku Midoriya and Katsuki Bakugou need to fuck. Now. Or yesterday. If straight up intercourse is too much for the boys to handle then a kiss will do, or even just an admission of, “Your butt looks nice in your hero costume.” Admissions of love aren’t necessary because we’re well past that point. Childhood friends since the age of four, years of jumbled emotions, come on, now, the love is kinda obvious.
But now the two are going through this, “I’m actually physically attracted to you, what do?” phase.
Izuku’s always been a cutie, but at age eighteen he’s like a small, teenage heart throb, able to make folks swoon whenever he takes off his shirt — bless that training, because, wow. The freckles are out of control, tracing over his neck and shoulders like they’re creating a roadmap of places to touch. And really, did he have to shave a clean path beneath his hair? Because it’s gone from shaggy to fluffy and cool, like, run your fingers through me, baby, and lord knows half the class — no, the school — wants to.
But the general consensus is that Katsuki Bakugou needs to.
Katsuki Bakugou, who looks straight up illegal now, like you should be buying pictures of him behind a counter with an ID. He’s taller now, which hits on all the height difference kinks because Izuku’s still adorably pocket-sized. Katsuki still doesn’t believe in wearing a tie, and when he’s out of his school uniform he walks around in tank tops to show off those muscled arms, always taking long, powerful strides like some kind of explosive fashion model. His hair is crazier than ever, creating a perfect bedroom look, like he just rolled out of bed and said fuck it, am I right?
And Izuku notices.
And Katsuki notices Izuku noticing.
And it’s driving their classmates nuts.
Don’t get it twisted, the class wants the two to get together. They may not have at first because of the routine bouts of malice, but it didn’t take long to figure out that it was code for I actually care about you, dingus, I’m just bad at emotions, you know, like a pissy cat? Unfortunately, Katsuki and Izuku keep walking this line, teasing each other, and the tension hangs heavy every time they’re in the same room together.
“I win,” Katsuki says as he pins Izuku down during a training session. Had this been an exercise years ago, he would’ve tried to incinerate his classmate with a grenade like gauntlet. But now? He leans over him with this look on his face, like he hasn’t eaten in weeks and the only thing he wants to sink his teeth into his a green haired, freckled face boy.
“Is that what you think?” Izuku’s backbone has grown significantly strong over the years, like, harder than Kirishima’s skin on its best day.
“That’s what I know, stupid Deku.”
Why does that sound like a pick up line? In what universe does an insult sound like a come on? It’s probably because Katsuki’s voice rumbles when he talks, coming deep from his throat to make Izuku’s face turn flush.
Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Because Katsuki’s leaning in close and maybe this is it. Maybe this game of Deku and Kacchan can come to an end. It’s been going on for so long that even Mineta — breast oriented, peeping in the girl’s locker room Mineta — is holding his breath, waiting for their lips to finally connect, because yeah, the chemistry between these two is strong, like an overzealous sales clerk with their finger on the cologne bottle pump, the smell soaking up the entire room. And it’s one of those smells that’s fine at first but soon it’s just taking over the entire space, choking you, and-
“For All Might’s sake just kiss already!”
That frantic whisper comes from Kirishima because man, oh man, if he has to hear one more monologue about how stupid Deku is... because he’s stupid, so stupid, like, colossally stupid, with his stupid, soft like a bunny rabbit hair, and his stupid kiss me lips, and his stupid kneeing my crush in the balls tendencies, and-
Wait.
Oh no.
The sound echoes around the entire class as Izuku rams his knee in-between Katsuki’s legs. Katsuki lets out this whimper — he’ll fucking kill you if you ever mention it again — and he rolls off of Izuku, clutching onto his crotch... and his pride.
“Don’t underestimate me, Kacchan.”
It’s a valuable lesson, one that, under normal circumstances, would be worthy of praise. In fact, Aizawa does praise him, though he does give Bakugou a sympathetic glance because he’s not a complete, unfeeling asshole.
The rest of the class looks utterly heartbroken, because they were this close to seeing these crazy kids finally seal the deal.
Izuku walks away to join his normal crew of friends — Uraraka congratulates him but her voice is strained, and Iida won’t look him in the eye because his best bud just kneed a guy in the dick.
Meanwhile, Kirishima looks at his group of friends, the group he spends most of his time with. They’re supposed to be Katsuki’s friends, too, but none of them are making an effort to go check on the guy. Kaminari even pulls out his cellphone, pretending like he just got an important text. “Assholes,” Kirishima mutters, but he can’t say he blames them. Who the hell would willing walk over to the self-proclaimed “Lord Explosion Murder” when he’s going to be at his most hostile?
Eijiro Kirishima would. Damn his chivalrous nature.
“Stupid fucking Deku,” Katsuki croaks out as he takes Kirishima hand, letting the red head pull him up.
This time, Kirishima agrees with him. Stupid fucking Deku indeed.
“I’m sorry,” Izuku says to Katsuki the next day, the two sitting at their desks before class starts. He says it, but there’s too much laughter in his voice to actually mean it.
Katsuki turns to face him. The murderous look in his eyes isn’t as homicidal as it could be. “Whatever, I’m over it.” He’s not.
“I mean it!” He doesn’t. “I’m really sorry, Kacchan.” He’s not.
“If you’re really sorry then you can kiss it and make it feel better.”
“Kacchan!” Izuku tries to sound offended but he’s smiling too much.
“Here we go,” Sero mutters to himself. It’s not that he hates sitting next to Izuku, he just hates sitting next to “I’m pining after my childhood friend and he’s pining after me but we’re not gonna make a real move” Izuku.
Jirou, who has been sentenced to sit next to Katsuki, shrugs her shoulders. She’s resigned herself to her fate of sitting next to an aggressive teenager with a crush. It’s better than his loud outbursts where he threatens various forms of death... maybe? She’s not sure anymore, she’s become numb to the flirting.
Aizawa enters the classroom and everyone quiets down. He’s got tests to hand back and drones on about grades and whatnot. The usual suspects bemoan their scores while others try their best to keep their bragging to a minimum — even if it’s unwarranted, seriously, chill out, Aoyama. Izuku pays attention until Katsuki turns to look at him. Back in the days when their boners for each other weren’t so blatantly obvious, Katsuki wouldn’t even bother looking at Izuku. But now? Oh, but now? He’s looking at him, fingers brushing against his as he hands him the papers.
“Thank you, Kacchan.” It’s said in such a quiet, sweet tone of voice, Kacchan’s name wrapped in silk when it slips past Izuku’s lips.
Oh, and their fingers? Still touching, the two boys caught in each other’s eyes. This happens a lot, usually to Katsuki, because Izuku’s eyes hold an entire galaxy in them. They’re always shining such a deep, beautiful green.
“Boys? The papers?”
“R-right!” Izuku quickly snatches up the papers and passes them behind him. “Sorry, Aizawa-sensei.”
Aizawa waves it off, too tired to care.
“Oi. Your flustered ass made me drop my pencil.”
“Huh?”
Katsuki nods his head toward the pencil sitting on the ground, right next to his desk. “You. Made me drop my pencil.”
“That’s not possible.”
Izuku’s right.
Katsuki’s a liar.
But he’s a liar with an agenda so he rolls his eyes and says, “The least you can do is pick it up, jackass.”
“Is he serious?” The question comes from Ashido, who’s on the other side of the classroom, watching the two boys when she should be looking at the chalkboard. Though honestly, at this point, all the students are watching them because... did Katsuki Bakugou really pull the “please bend over and pick this up for me so I can stare at your ass” trick? Not that she cares, Izuku’s got a pert little booty on him and Katsuki should be making it his life mission to praise it, but no one in the history of ever has fallen for the-
“Fine, Kacchan,” then Izuku gets out of his chair, bending over in just the right way, his uniform pants hugging the round curve of his ass. Katsuki gives a grand show of leaning back in his seat, his eyes violating Izuku’s backside.
Well.
First time for everything.
Or sixth, really. Maybe tenth? Katsuki does this so often that the class is surprised that Iida hasn’t given him a lecture on disrespecting pencils.
“Here.” Izuku sets the pencil on Katsuki’s desk, which gives their fingers another chance to linger against each other. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“For what? You made me drop it.”
“Right. Clumsy me. Only if I did drop it, it would’ve landed in your lap.”
“Is that so?”
Smirk.
Smirk.
“Midoriya! Back to your seat!”
“Sorry, Aizawa-sensei!”
Aizawa sighs as Izuku sits back down. Ugh. They prepare you for all the hero stuff but not basic teenage hormones. He’s gonna make Toshinori buy him all of the drinks next time they go out.
Movie night was a team building exercise enacted by the girls in class, and really, did there need to be a professional reason to get together with copious amounts of snacks and cinema? On Friday nights, they take over the entire dormitory lobby and arm themselves with pajamas, pillows, blankets, and food. It’s silly and oh so adolescent, but in a world where they’re training to put their lives on the line, sometimes, you need a bit of silly.
Katsuki gets to the lobby last, of course, always playing the part of the guy who doesn’t wanna be there. Izuku pats the space next to him on the loveseat, even offers to share his blanket because he’s a nice guy.
Iida turns off the lights and sits next to Uraraka, then Kirishima starts the movie — some action extravaganza, as to be expected when it’s his night to pick.
It’s Todoroki who notices first, because he’s not cheering everytime the hero throws a punch. He turns his head just in time to see Katsuki lift his hips, the blanket draped over him and Izuku to hide the fact that he just slid his jogging pants down.
“No more games,” Katsuki says, voice soft but leaving no room for argument.
“N-no more games,” Izuku whispers back.
“Todoroki?” Yaoyorozu asks since she’s sitting next to him. “What are you...”
“Oh holy shit,” Jirou whispers, her eyes on Izuku, who’s pressed against the side of Katsuki’s body, trailing kisses against his neck. Katsuki is combing his fingers through his hair, petting him, and when she really listens she can hear him say, “That’s good, so good, Izuku,” followed by, “Put your hand under the blanket.”
“Y-yes Kacchan.”
Well shit.
That escalated quickly.
Katsuki calling Izuku by his actual name.
Oh, and the handjob, too.
“Guys, you’re missing the best... part...” Kirishima’s voice trails off because he can see the steady pace Izuku’s got going, his hand lifting the blanket ever so slightly as he jerks Katsuki off in the middle of movie night. Izuku doesn’t notice that a few of his classmates are watching, but Katsuki does, and his eyes are hard and deadly, the message loud and clear — interrupt us and die. And no, not like the battle cry he lets out when he’s throwing a ball into the clouds, he means actual death, the truly painful kind. Kirishima raises his hands in defense and mouths, “No worries, bro, you do you,” then he faces the screen again.
“What’s going on?” Ashido asks after stuffing her cute, pink face with popcorn.
Kirishima knows he shouldn’t look so smug, but hey, Katsuki Bakugou is his boy, you know? And he’s been into Izuku Midoriya for centuries. So he gives Ashido a wide grin, like he’s the proudest dude to ever dude, and says, “Bakugou and Midoriya are busy .”
Ashido knows what he means. She can tell by the way the word “busy” curls around Kirishima’s tongue. “No way.”
“Yes way.”
Ashido glances over at the loveseat and has to stop herself from squeeing. It’s such an odd gut reaction, but after watching these two dance circles around each other, seeing Katsuki squirming and biting his bottom lip to stifle those deep growls of his gives her a sense of victory. It’s like a chain reaction as both Kaminari and Sero look over, the four friends quietly nodding their approval because Bakugou’s finally done it, he’s finally got his little Deku.
His little Deku who, apparently, is a fiesty one through all that blushing, because he’s found a lovely spot behind Katsuki’s ear and keeps brushing his teeth against it. His hand is still pumping Katsuki’s cock, bumping against the blanket faster, faster, “Faster,” Katsuki breathes out.
“Like this?” Izuku asks as he increases his speed. He already knows the answer from the way Katsuki’s hips buck into his hand. Still, he likes to make sure, likes to do as he’s told.
“Yeah. Mmmm fuck, yeah, just like that,” then, “So good, you’re so good, feel so good, Izuku,” because Izuku Midoriya loves to receive praise. Katsuki’s rewarded with a delicious whine against his ear, Izuku squirming against the side of his body, aching to please him, to feel him.
“What’s going on over there?”
No.
No no no.
All eyes turn to Iida, who’s giving Katsuki and Izuku a curious look. Ashido works quickly and throws a look over to Uraraka, whose mouth is full of gummy candies. Please stop him her eyes say, pleading with the girl. They’re doing the thing, you know, the thing , like, finally! Because this thing isn’t just for the couple’s sake, it’s for the entirety of Class 1A. Imagine, no more smoldering looks over a pencil, or passing papers, or training exercises. Please Uraraka!
You don’t gotta tell me twice then Uraraka winks, as if the two are linked through telepathy when, honestly, it’s just girl code. After all, Izuku is her best, freckled friend, and friends make sure their friends put blankets to good use.
Uraraka swallows the candies and screams, “Ah! Oh no! Is the hero gonna die?!” Then, to add to the effect, she clings to Iida’s arm.
The glasses wearing boy’s face burns red — something Uraraka will need to investigate later — and says, “What are you talking about?”
Uraraka points to the screen where the main characters is beaten and broken, the villain laughing triumphantly before he monologues about world domination.
“Naw, he’s got this,” Kirishima says.
“I dunno, man,” Kaminari adds. “He looks pretty bad.”
“Nooooo!” Uraraka clings to Iida, burying her face against his chest. Later, she’ll tell him that she’s seen this movie before so she knows the hero wins.
With Iida distracted by Uraraka‘s tiny, soft body — soft? where’d that thought come from, Iida? — Katsuki and Izuku are allowed to continue in peace — minus the occasional action sequence on screen. With no one from their class watching them, Izuku decides to be bold and slide into Katsuki’s lap, gasping from the feeling of something hard and incredible pressed against his pajama shorts. Katsuki smirks, forever the wolf who caught the rabbit. “Feel that?”
“Y-yeah.”
“Feel good?” Katsuki rests his hands against Izuku’s hips, his grip strong and confident as he urges him to move in his lap.
“Ah, um... it... a-ah, Kacchan...”
“Wanna be inside you,” Katsuki says, his dick right at the crack of Izuku’s ass, pressed against the fabric of his shorts. “So amazing, fuck, Izuku.”
Let’s take a minute to talk about Izuku Midoriya. You see, Izuku Midoriya’s not that kind of guy. He knows his friends are in the room, eating licorice and drinking various sodas, shouting to the techno bumping to yet another fight scene. So no, he’s not the guy to do this out here — and yes, he knows, handjob under the blankets, he sounds like a big ol’ hypocrite, but that’s not the point. The point is he’s not gonna let Katsuki Bakugou fuck him on the couch with other people in the room.
But then Katsuki’s hands are on his ass, and they squeeze, and Izuku lets out this sinful sound — don’t worry, there’s an explosion on screen, so no one heard it, right? “I want this,” Katsuki says in his ear, voice rough around the edges. “I want this cute little ass of yours.”
Look.
There’s a blanket, right?
The blanket protects them, right?
The lights snapping on, however, does not.
Izuku jumps out of Katsuki’s lap so fast that it puts Iida’s speed to shame. Meanwhile, Katsuki’s eyes are like a wild animal’s, his lips curling in a snarl so pissed off that it would render any recipient of it comatose.
Except for Aizawa, apparently.
“All right, time for bed,” he says.
“What? It’s the weekend.” And my boy’s about to get laid but Kirishima keeps that part to himself.
“Did you all forget we’re going to the training camp this weekend?”
“Ah. Yes. Of course,” Iida says, forever the class rep. “We should all head to bed.”
“Ugh. This was a shit movie anyway,” then Katsuki tosses the blanket away, stands up, and leaves. Somehow, his clothing is immaculate, as if he hadn’t been two steps away from fucking a cute guy on the couch.
“Kacchan, don’t be like that!” Izuku grabs the blanket and sighs. “Um... sorry about that, Aizawa-sensei.”
Aizawa shrugs. “You don’t have to apologize for Bakugou.”
“Right... still sorry, though. Goodnight!”
Aizawa watches the boy run off then turns to face everyone else, wondering why they look so angry. Ok, yes, stopping movie night is a bummer but is it worth this many heavy glares?
“You ruined everything, sensei!”
“Why would you do that?!”
“How cruel!”
“Um... it’s just a movie,” Aizawa says.
“That’s not what we mean! We mean...” then Kirishima stops, suddenly remembering that he is talking to a teacher, and you probably shouldn’t tell a teacher that two of their students were about to... you know ...
Aizawa’s able to read between the lines because he wasn’t born yesterday. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, mostly to make everyone uncomfortable, because he knows what teenagers do when they’re into each other — assuming they’re the sexual type. “Go to bed,” he says finally. “Bus leaves at six in the morning.”
“Yes sensei,” everyone says in unison, then Aizawa walks off.
He doesn’t make it far.
Because Katsuki and Izuku are in the hallway, having almost made it to the stairwell to get to their rooms. Katsuki’s got Izuku pinned to the wall and they’re kissing. It’s hard and frantic, their lips loudly smacking against each other until Katsuki, frankly, fucks Izuku’s mouth with his tongue. It’s sloppy, with bits of drool slipping past their lips. Katsuki’s growling like he’s starving and Izuku sounds like he’s running out of air, but whatever, who needs to breathe when your knees are getting weak from a kiss?
They do finally stop kissing, both panting like they just fought All Might at his prime. Katsuki catches his breath first and leans in for another kiss, but Izuku quickly shakes his head. “Not out here, Kacchan.”
“Fuck you if you think I’m that patient.”
“Kacchan! We... w-we, no, no no no-oooooh, oh god,” because now Katsuki’s rubbing against him. Thrusting, really. Jogging pants against shorts, lips going in for another bruising kiss.
There comes a time in a teacher’s life where he has to make a tough decision. For Shota Aizawa, now is that time. So he lets out an exhausted sigh, turns his back on the two boys, and leaves. He even tells the rest of the students to wait a bit before stepping into the hallway.
They look happy now — save for Iida, who looks confused — but they’ll regret it tomorrow. Because no amount of sex is gonna stop the awkward flirting, if anything, that’ll make it worse.
And no, he’s not gonna reveal how he knows that.