Chapter Text
The afternoon bell of U.A. Elementary School rang. Students burst through the doors, eager to begin their long weekend. Funny voices and laughter echoed throughout the brightly colored hallways. Cutouts of fall leaves adorned bulletin boards throughout the institution, alongside pamphlets with drawings and fun facts about the students’ favorite historical heroes and their current favorites.
While there was always a strong variety, one face and name stood out from most — Dynamite. The explosion hero, number one and uncontested for the past four years straight. He was adored by young and old alike. His brash personality, cunning, and wit quickly propelled him to the top of the polls not long after his debut.
His battle sense was unmatched, making even tough fights look easy. Much to other heroes’ chagrin, he was often called to clean up messes others couldn’t handle or resolve quickly enough.
While his opinion amongst heroes often wavered, he was nothing but golden opulence incarnate. Tall, blond, handsome, and the sound of his voice after a long…
“Izuku… you’re staring again.”
Izuku looked away, embarrassed, realizing he'd been caught lost in thought. He chastised himself internally—These thoughts aren’t okay! I can’t be thinking like this about a student’s parent, no matter how attractive he is. This isn’t professional at all.
“And mumbling…”
Hands quickly covered the offending mouth, sealing in the last remaining part of a silent “eep!”
Izuku stopped and looked at Ochaco and Tsuyu, his fellow teachers and best friends. There was a beat of silence, and then laughter erupted, bringing the three friends to tears.
“I needed that.”
“I think all three of us needed that.”
Izuku sighed and looked down the slowly emptying halls. Many students were parading their parents up and down the corridors, showing them their pieces of classwork that had been selected to be stapled to their beloved boards. They kept an eye out for stragglers, often having to trade in their lanyards for shepherds’ hooks to keep the unruly herd moving along.
Long after the bell had rung and the halls were nearly barren, the trio went to make their final rounds, waving to their friends in the various halls and swinging by the front office to say goodbye to the secretary as she began her honeymoon that weekend.
All in all, this school was a great place to work—kind teachers, inquisitive students. Its strong pillars of excellence were a source of pride. When they returned to their hall, one group remained: Katsuma and his father. Katsuma clutched his father’s fingers, jumped excitedly, and tried to reach his drawing of his favorite hero, Dynamite. I suppose nepotism still plays its part when your father must be your favorite hero.
While it was long past visiting hours, Izuku let them stay. He knew this was one-on-one time that Katsuma often didn’t get with his father. He often saw Katsuma alone at family events, while other mothers and fathers waited for their children.
He always sat beside him on those days—asking about his artwork, splitting a sandwich, or sharing a cookie. Loneliness weighed on both father and son. He knew his absence burdened Mr. Bakugo as much as it did his son, so he allowed tender moments like these whenever possible.
It was their interactions that drew him in—especially the way the man listened intently, laughed wholeheartedly, and showed patience with his kids. He found himself attracted not just to the looks but to the quiet acts of kindness and the unwavering devotion. Maybe that’s hard to ignore when you’re a perpetually single man, surrounded by children most of the day, craving the kind of connection you see in others.
Don’t get him wrong — he loved this job. He wouldn’t trade it for the world. But sometimes Izuku longed for more. He admitted to himself that it would be nice to come home to someone. Someone like him. Maybe we'd cook dinner, watch a show, tuck the kids into bed, and finally get to relax together on the couch after a long day...
“Hello! Hello, Mr. Midoriya?”
Another eep… what charming sounds Izuku produced…
“Mr. Midoriya, are you okay? You look all red and blotchy… It’s kind of gross.”
Gee, thanks…
“Oh, I’m sorry, little Katsuma. It has been a very long week, and I’m feeling a bit under the weather.”
“Yeah, it looks like it. You kind of look like you have a rash or something.”
Ahhh, the joys of working with children. Izuku cringed inwardly, thinking, Thanks, Katsuma, for blurting that out in front of your very handsome—
“Katsuma…”
Izuku looked up. Less than two feet away from him stood his father in all of his glory. Oh god, he smelled nice too…
“You’re looking as lovely as ever, Mr. Midoriya.”
Lovely…? Lovely! Wait, calm down… It’s a pleasantry, nothing more, he reminded himself, trying to ignore the sudden rush of embarrassment. He watched as Mr. Bakugo took his son’s hat right off his head and lightly ruffled his hair.
“What did I tell you about saying too much?”
Katsuma looked down, ashamed. “Sometimes saying enough is much better than saying too much…”
“And…”
“Don’t embarrass people by talking about bodily functions…”
Mr. Bakugo smiled at his son in approval. Izuku returned one in kind.
“Were you able to show your father all of your artwork?” Izuku began to walk down the hallway toward a bulletin board that had some of Katsuma’s artwork posted, gesturing to one of his favorite pictures. It was a drawing of his father, standing tall atop a building, valiantly, explosions in the background.
“I appreciate you letting us stay late… I know he doesn’t get to show me these things very often.”
“Then that makes the time together all the more special… Your son has a knack for saving the best for last.”
The school's lights slowly began to shut off. Taking the school security guard’s cue, he closed his blinds and shut the door. Even though it was barely 6 p.m., the winter sun had already sunk behind the horizon, leaving the parking lot in near darkness. The trio walked out the front of the building. Izuku waved goodbye and turned to walk to the faculty parking lot behind the building.
“Mr. Midoriya, do you want me to walk you to your car?”
And if he agreed, Izuku realized, it would give him the excuse to keep walking next to Katsuki. His thoughts flickered, Do I really want to say yes just to be close to him...?
“No, thank you, I’m quite alright.”
“You don’t think I’d do a good job?”
“No, I—”
“You know I am the number one hero, right?”
“Y… yes, sir, everyone—”
“So you don’t think I am capable of walking my son’s teacher through a poorly lit parking lot?”
“Sir, I never said—”
“Oh, but you implied.”
Thank god for the cover of night, because Izuku could feel himself blushing deeper than ever. He internally panicked: How am I supposed to respond to that? Is there any comeback that wouldn’t make me look like an idiot?
“I… I merely implied I didn’t want to impose.”
Katsuma spoke up from across the parking lot.
“I don’t think my dad minds! He always talks about wanting to walk to places with you!”
Silence. Izuku looked up, and Katsuki was just as red as he was now. They stood staring at each other for perhaps a second too long.
Izuku broke the silence.
“V… verrry well, sir! If you insist!” Was that a voice crack? You’re 28, Izuku — get it together!
Katsuki jogged over quickly, with Katsuma in tow. Awkward silence began to bubble between the two. Katsuki was the first to attempt to break it.
“So uhh… teaching… You uh… like it?”
Izuku smiled.
“I love it, actually. It’s a passion. I wouldn’t change it for the world.”
Katsuki’s face softened.
“Katsuma thinks the world of you, you know.”
“He thinks the same of you, Mr. Dynamite.”
“Katsuki.”
“...what?”
“Katsuki.”
“Kah… what?”
God help him.
“My name. You can call me Katsuki.”
“Oh…”
Oh no! Izuku’s face was burning up now, despite the cold wind. He panicked inside: This is too much. How do I even handle this?
“Mr. Midoriya, your rash is back!”
“Katsuma!”
“What if it’s hand, foot, and mouth?!”
A collective groan escaped the two adults.
“Katsuma! Please!”
“What, Dad! It’s not that bad! Remember when the whole class got it?”
Izuku shuddered, the memory bubbling to the surface—those awful boils that had covered the children’s skin still haunted him.
“Please ignore him again… You know, you do look quite lovely this evening…”
Izuku looked up, stunned. There it was again. Was that a compliment?
He quickly swung his car door open and hopped in, yelling a curt, “Thanks!” before immediately putting his car in reverse and speeding out of the parking lot — leaving a confused Katsuki and Katsuma behind.
It took two stoplights for him to realize the gravity of his situation. With an exasperated sigh, he let his forehead drop against the steering wheel, startling himself with the small honk it caused.
Thank god he was going out tonight. He needed a drink.
By the time he arrived at the Korean BBQ, his friends had littered the table with empty soju bottles and plates that once held meat and sides. Ochaco stood to greet him, stumbling drunkenly. His words slurred together.
“Izukuuuuuu bestie! We were waiting for you! We thought you'd never turn up.”
Izuku sighs, embracing his friend in a warm hug, explaining the reason for his delay.
“Ahh, so you had to stay behind to look at your eye candy.” Tsyuy snickers. “It's not even Halloween, and you're already on the hunt for something sweet.”
Izuku tries to defend himself, but the group just ends up laughing among themselves. He sits down and orders him self another round of drinks.
After a few bottlenecks, Izuku finally works up the courage to explain to his friends what exactly happened this evening. They simply stare in amazement.
“He called you what?”
“...lovely”
“Oh my god…”
“Oh my god”
“Oh my god!”
Izuku covers his ears to shield himself from the noise. “Guys, please, it wasn't even that big of a deal.”
“He wants you.”
“He wants you soooo bad”
“Guys, please! He does not! And even if he did, I would never know! I can’t even utter three words to the man without looking like a fool! I abandoned him in the parking lot for God's sake.”
The trio is silent. Everyone knows Izuku’s predicament: he’s fallen for a man he can’t speak to, bound to yearning for him for the rest of eternity.
Ochaco sits up in earnest. Taking in a large gulp of boozey air and smirks.
“I know what you need to do.”
The other pause. Looking at Ochaco, he was confused.
“I know what you need to do!”
“You saying it to us louder doesn't mean it makes any more sense.”
Ochaco pauses for a moment in her drunken stupor. It dawns on her a few moments later that they need an explanation.
“I think you need to let it all out.”
Their faces are still twisted in confusion. Ochaco lets out a breath of air.
“I think… that you are always keeping all of your feelings to yourself. The good, the bad, the spicy ones. I think if you just let them all out, then maybe they wouldn't be rattling around in your brain so much. Maybe since all of the thoughts are out, you'll be able to focus on just talking to him.”
It’s brilliant. A modern problem requires modern solutions. Izuku nods. It makes sense. Maybe his mind is a little bit clouded by the soju, but you know what. That's his best friend, and you know what. She’s brilliant.
He immediately goes to speak his mind when his mind silences him. He’s never really talked about these things to anyone. Let alone. Out loud. In a Korean barbecue.
Ochaco reaches over and slaps her friend on the back in encouragement.
“Come on, you can do it! Just let it all out! It's a judgment-free zone, man.”
“Yeah, we are here to listen!”
Izuku goes to speak. Then passes. His face is redlining at an astonishing rate. “How…how am I supposed to do this… What am I even supposed to say…”
His friends smack their foreheads against the heated restaurant table in exasperation.
“You're supposed to say all of it.”
Izuku looks at them even more distressed than he was before, if that's even physically possible.
“Both of you saying it louder does not help here. I need an explanation. What do you want? I'm not sure what you want me to say, and I don't want to disappoint you.”
Heads once again smack against the table and remain for several moments bound by frustration. Ochaco looks up
“Look, would it make it easier if I went first? There really is no right or wrong way to do this…”
Izuku offers a quick curt nod, devoting his entire mind's inebriated attention solely to her, which was quite a feat in his current state. Ochaco takes her half-filled bottle of strawberry Soju and guns it, slamming it down on the table, takes in a nauseatingly large breath, stares both of them in the eyes, and does so in earnest.
“I love it up the ass.”
Izuku stares at her, shocked, appalled, embarrassed, and ashamed by proxy. Tsuyu simply nods as if she's heard a lively quip about the morning weather.
“It’s true I love it. I love all of it. I love fasting for half of the day. I love waxing both my front and my back bits. I love exfoliating with a coconut-scented sugar scrub and using that Brazilian bum bum cream.”
Tsuyu listens to Ochacos' lecture. Raising her hand in polite inquiry. Ochaco turns to her, pointing. OH my god, that's the same gesture she uses in class!
“Question: Is the waxing, scrubbing, and douching a part of what you find enjoyable? Does getting clean turn you on?”
Ochaco smiles
“Excellent question… I am so glad you asked. I don't think it's necessarily the act of getting clean that turns me on. I think it's more than I am getting ready. It's like I am an actor in my dressing room before my big show, but my big show is getting dicked the fuck down by my husband.”
A mumble of approval from Tsuyu. Izuku’s body quivers in fear. His best friend likes it up the ass. Her husband fucks her in the ass. In their bed. Oh my god, he ate popcorn and watched a movie in that bed last week.
“I see, I see. When was the last time you got dicked down in such a manner?” The sound of a pin hitting paper rings in Izuku’s ears. Oh… good, the check is here, this can be over.
“Tsuyu, are you taking notes!”
“Yeah, I'm writing down the products she recommended. I have a date next week”
Izuku stands up so quickly that it nearly knocks over the grilling table.
“I….I need to go to the bathroom!”
His friends nod and give him a thumbs up. Why is this even happening? Is this even real life? What. The. Fuck. We are in public. At a restaurant, a little side room nonetheless, but in a fucking restaurant, talking about getting dicked the fuck down! The men's bathroom door swings in. Izuku sprints to the sink, turning on the cold water, splashing it all over his face. Is his face 100 °C because it feels like it's boiling? He is watching the steam roll off his forehead. He stares at his face, his complexion scarlet, damp; his eyes have a pleasant alcohol-induced glaze.
God what he would give to see Katsuki with a face like…
Fuck.
He has to do it.
He has to give in to his friends ' desires.
He has to give in to his own base desires.
He uses a paper towel to dab off the excess water from the sweater vest his mom gave him for his birthday.
He was going to talk to his friends about getting dicked down in a Korean barbecue. In his mother's sweater vest.
God FUCKING help him. One deep breath in and one out. He is speed walking to the table. It's now or never. He slams back down into his seat, nearly knocking it over, but he saves him self. Grabs the nearest bottle of soju, rips off the cap, and throws it. He is downing that bitch. That drink is his bitch.
“Step on me”
His friends look at him, shocked. Trying to register what he just said after such a fast-paced entrance. Their slowed minds need a second to register.
“Wha…”
“STEP ON ME! I want no, I NEED him to do it. I need him to come home from a hard day of work. I need him to have the grime and soot layered on his body. I need him to take that hot little mask off his eyes and let it ride up his forehead and push his thick, glossy hair back. I need his eye shadow to be smudged with little lines running down his cheeks. I need him to smell fresh from a fight, nitroglycerine, sweat, and dust. I need him to grab him by my little neck with his hot as fuck hands. Have you seen his fucking hands? Up close? Bones, tendons, veins, and no wedding ring. Trust me, I've looked and fucking noticed. Izuku, how can you get off on a man's hands? I don’t! I only get off to his! I have never been attracted to a person —not in high school, not in college, never been in love, never gone on a date, never had a one-night stand. I am a grown ass man in my late 20s with a master's degree, and I get off to a stranger's hands in my shower.”
A gasp for air. A pause. Tsuyu raises her hand to speak, but is immediately cut off again.
“And I didn't even get to the second part. I want him to take my neck and shove me against his mouth. I want a kiss — tongues and teeth. I want him to suck on my Lips until they turn purple. I want him to take his perfectly straight, sharp teeth with that amazing bite structure he has, and I want him to latch on to me. To my neck, my chest, my thighs, my ass. Oh, and don't even get me started on that part! I would give my soul to feel that man drag his touge in between my cheeks. Feel him jam his fingers and tongue into my hole. I’ve already prepped, but he doesn't care. He gets off to making me come. I want him to eat my ass, suck my dick down his throat, make me come twice, and fuck me like a worthless flesh light. I want him to have me ass up in the air, his boot holding my left arm down. My right hand has carpal tunnel. And I want him to dick me the fuck down. I want to feel him slapping against me. I want to feel my knees lifted off the mattress with every thrust. I want my lower back to hurt for days, and I want to be so full of cum it drips down my thighs, and he just leaves me there. To sit. Same position, unmoving while he takes his time in the shower. And just when I think he's forgotten about me, he stomps in the room and shoves it in again.”
Izuku pants, gulping air to replenish his depleted oxygen. His friends look at him with pleased grins.
“Do you feel better?”
“...actually…yes”
“Told you.”
A timer dings on a phone. Their two hours of unlimited food are up, and they start cleaning up their table. Placing their plates in an orderly fashion. Lining up their glass bottles so they can be easily recycled and walking out as if nothing happened. Tsuyu holds open the curtain covering up their section.
“Hey, I thought you got your carpal tunnel looked at.”
“I did”
“Weren’t they going to fix it?”
“Yeah, this summer. It takes about a month to heal properly.”
“A month? Really?”
“Yeah, it's pretty intense.”
“Do you need someone to stay with you?”
“Oh no, my mom's got it…………”
Shit. Less than 10 feet away stands Katsuki Bakugo. In the flesh. In his uniform, he was staring at two takeout bags. All three teachers screech.
“Do you think he…:”
He glares directly at Ochaco.
“Yes”
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. They turn tail and run. Straight for the alternate exit, praying it doesn't set off a fire alarm. Izuku goes to turn and run, but he's caught by the back of his sweater vest and dragged back. This is it. He’s losing his job, his license, and he's going to jail for public indecency. What is he going to say to his mother! He’s shaking like a leaf. He tries futilely to break free as he is dragged out of the front of the restaurant like a lowly criminal. Please lord. He is a man who has devoted his life to serving others. He teaches, volunteers, and donates to charity? Why now? Why…?
“W.. where are we going? If you're taking me in, can I use my one call? I need to ask my mother to feed my”
A hand quickly covers his mouth, and fuck, it's huge, and he smells so.
“Shit… your eyes are rolling back, but we haven't done anything yet, teach. I guess you've got it bad, huh?”
He unconsciously nods. Then snaps back into reality. Damn his pea-sided one-track mind! You're about to go to jail, and your dick is leaking into your pants!
Quick, Isuku, think!
“I...I know my rights! I get a phone call before you can...”
The god groans
“Would you please stop! I’m not taking you to jail!”
“Then where are we...”
“My car”
He looks in the direction he's being dragged. It's a sports car. Even this man's car is hot.
“Do you always mumble like that?”
“Only when I... Hey! Why are we going to your car? Am I getting a citation or something?”
An even more agitated groan.
“NO, we are leaving this restaurant.”
“To go where? The police...”
“For the love of god, we are going to my house.”
“Your house? Why on earth would we be going to your…”
“To fuck.”
“To what?”
“I am taking you to my house and we are going to fuck. I have been eyeing you for the past four fucking years, ever since you helped my son with his kindergarten reading lessons. You were so sweet and bubbly. Kind. The kid couldn't get enough of it. I was hoping you'd stay. Maybe you'd be his first-grade teacher. Then I found out they were putting you in third grade. Had to wait years until he got to that level. Practically begged for him to be put in your class just so we'd get a chance to talk.”
“You… wanted to talk to me?”
“Yes”
“On purpose…”
“Yes!”
“Why would you want to talk to me?”
A pause. A smirk. Oh god, Izuku can see his kanines.
“Cause’ I wanted to do a lot more than that, teach. But I had to start somewhere. Lucky for me, someone wanted it just as much as I did.”
He’s thrown against the side of Katsuki’s car. His knee is between his legs, lifting him up ever so slightly. The pressure between his crotch, chisled thighs, and the cold medal is just too much, but not enough. He grinds onto Katsuki, letting out the most needy wine he's ever heard his body produce. He thrusts one two. Fuck. He just came in his pants dryhumping this man's car.
“Did you just cum?”
Silence and a pitiful nod.
“This is about to be a good night.”