[NSFW] FIC - “Try, Try Again”

BKDK | canonverse | established relationship | UA Third Years (they're 18) | explicit sexual content

All Might is a surprisingly protective mother hen who does his absolute best to guard Izuku's virtue. Izuku is not impressed.

==

TRY, TRY AGAIN

Being a teenager was overrated. And frankly inconvenient.

For instance, it was generally a pain in the ass to spring a boner in the middle of a spar with a classmate, who just happened to be really good at pinning down his opponents. It was also probably detrimental to Izuku’s physical health to develop any kind of attraction to people whose names started with a ‘K’ and ended in ‘atsuki.’

But neither logic nor self-preservation mattered in the face of newly awakened hormones.

Izuku shoveled rice into his mouth, watching from his seat in the dorm kitchen as Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero burst into the dorm in a flurry of cheerful shouting. They waved as they passed before dropping onto the neighboring table where Katsuki was seated by himself with a bowl of noodles. At their arrival and interruption, Katsuki rewarded each of them with a glare. Having to divide his irritation between the three of them did nothing to dilute its potency.

Next to him, Todoroki said something about their English homework, but Izuku was only half-listening.

“Midoriya, are you even chewing? Eating more slowly improves your digestion,” Todoroki said, nudging his shoulder.

With a start, Izuku turned to his friend, mouth full and cheeks bulging. “Hm?”

Oblivious to Izuku’s distraction, he continued, “It can also help you maintain a healthy weight.” He paused, thoughtful. “Although I guess that doesn’t matter with your training regimen. You’re already quite fit.”

Nearby, Kaminari’s laughter at something Sero said turned into a yelp as Katsuki’s elbow connected with his ribs. “Ack! What the hell?!”

“Get out of my way, Dunce Face.” He stood, empty bowl and chopsticks in hand, and disentangled himself from his friends without any care for their limbs.

Izuku tracked his departure through the fall of green curls. He was really in need of a haircut. The breadth of Katsuki’s shoulders, the curve of his back, that narrow waist—Izuku catalogued these details with helpless admiration. Because as much of a disagreeable asshole Katsuki could be, he was also an amazing hero, and Izuku had always appreciated that about him.

Yes, he very much appreciated how ridiculously, stupidly hot Katsuki was. And his fighting skills. Of course. Obviously.

Katsuki stalked through the common room and paused before the door leading into the stairwell. He glanced back just long enough to catch Izuku’s eye. A tightening of his lips, a twitch of his brow, and then he was gone.

“Does Bakugo seem more caustic than usual?” Todoroki asked.

Izuku shrugged and finished the rest of his food with record speed. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and ignored the look on his friend’s face, as if he were expecting to hear the resulting boom of Izuku breaking the sound barrier. He offered Todoroki an apologetic smile before making his exit.

After four flights of stairs and a scraped knee from tripping in his haste, Izuku reached the hallway on Katsuki’s floor and found himself shoved up against the wall, a hand clamped around his throat.

“Took you long enough.” Katsuki’s grip loosened, his hand sliding downward, fingers skimming the tense muscles of Izuku’s neck. Nails scraped lightly over his collarbones.

Izuku snorted. “It was hardly a min—”

“Shut up,” he growled.

And, for once, Izuku listened because he had little choice with Katsuki’s mouth against his. Katsuki’s kisses were rough and unrefined, threaded with the focus of learning an unfamiliar technique. This clumsy press of skin, this exchange of breath and quiet gasps, it was still new enough for both of them that every kiss was like the mapping of a battle—the slide of wet skin and the nip of teeth, an experiment in action and reaction.

Fingers tangled in his hair, and Katsuki’s palm, rough from countless explosions, pressed with little gentleness along his cheekbone as he angled Izuku’s head to deepen the kiss. He tasted like tea and spice, the heat of him reducing Izuku to the awkward teenager he’d been before OFA, before the war, before Shigaraki and a broken heart—

Katsuki curled his tongue around his, derailing his thoughts. Izuku’s knees wavered.

A soft crackle like the sound of crinkled newspaper—or static—sounded from the upper left.

“Midoriya-shounen!”

Izuku’s eyes flew open and he jerked back—his head hit the wall with a crack. “Oooow.” He dropped to a crouch, hands cupping the back of his head.

The intercom had been installed in their second year, and it could be accessed by any of the instructors from the teacher’s lounge. All Might’s voice boomed again from the speakers above the elevator doors: “Please speak with Endeavor about last week’s battle with the snake villain. He would like the damage bill broken down by which hero caused what.”

“Son of a bitch.” Katsuki passed a hand over his face. “This is getting really fucking old. Whatever the hell you did to piss him off, fix it.”

With Katsuki’s cheeks flushed and lips still damp, Izuku cared less about ‘fixing’ a problem that didn’t exist and more about running his hands through all that blonde hair. But Katsuki was giving him that pinched look that bordered on homicidal and Izuku sighed, shrugging helplessly.

“Kacchan,” he said, reaching out.

“Don’t bother.” Katsuki turned on his heel, and a moment later, disappeared into his bedroom with a firm slam of his door.

+++

Izuku loved All Might, but there were a great many things he didn’t know or understand about his mentor and predecessor.

Case in point, All Might had recently taken to addressing Izuku over the school intercom—not just the one in the dorms—which meant his messages were being transmitted to every student, teacher, and hero on campus grounds.

Izuku couldn’t believe Principal Nezu was even allowing this, and it was clear by the way Aizawa’s eye twitched every time a new message came over the intercom during homeroom that he wasn’t the only person wondering that.

All Might’s messages typically went like so:

“Midoriya-shounen! Why don’t you join me for lunch? We haven’t caught up in a couple days!”

“Midoriya-shounen! I’ve been thinking about your mother’s tea blends. Bring me some tomorrow, won’t you?”

“Midoriya-shounen, I was disheartened to hear you’ve been venting to your friends about my messages. Please feel free to come to me directly next time. I am always here to support your emotional development in this critical stage of your youth.”

“Midoriya-shounen, please inform Bakugo-shounen that Recovery Girl has put in an order for pills that regulate hormones. I believe this will be a great benefit to his temperament.”

For that one, Izuku had had to physically restrain Katsuki, whose hands had already started emitting sparks with an impending explosion.

All Might had always been so… considerate? Careful? In terms of Izuku’s wellbeing. He pushed Izuku to be stronger, but only so far as he was pushed himself by Shimura Nana and Gran Torino. Because above all others, All Might knew the burden he’d passed onto Izuku and wanted to see him rise above it.

But Izuku couldn’t fathom why the man was suddenly so intent on disrupting his life at UA. He was a third year now, the war against AFO an ugly memory mapped into his skin (and Katsuki’s). It was baffling, and despite Katsuki’s numerous threats, Izuku was reluctant to confront his mentor about it.

+++

Again on the matter of teenage hormones (because, according to Hawks, who Izuku wasn’t entirely sure was a reliable source, teenagers were very fixated):

Despite being an eighteen-year-old virgin, on account of having never felt like a normal teenager, Izuku thought it only fair that he should be exempt from having to deal with things like spontaneous erections. After all, Katsuki was in the same position, and he’d (according to him anyway, also perhaps not a reliable source) successfully bullied his way through adolescent hormones. Or, how he’d put it: “It’s called ‘discipline,’ you shitty nerd.”

It helped, of course, that their schoolwork on top of internships often kept them too exhausted to even think about things like sex. But with the start of winter break, Izuku now had way too much time for his meandering thoughts and disturbing streams of consciousness that usually flowed like so:

Hungry. I should find food. I wonder if there’s ramen. Mmm, spicy ramen. Kacchan likes spicy food.

Or: Training… so exhausted. My legs ache. Is this how it would feel after sex? Mmm, maybe sex with Kacchan.

Or: I should wear my compression sleeve today. Hm, my arms could probably use some more definition. Like Kacchan’s. Kacchan’s arms are sexy. Damn it.

Izuku couldn’t recall exactly how the madness began. He remembered wandering into the area of woods surrounding the trail where he took his morning runs, following the sound of explosions. Katsuki had been training by himself, somewhere far away from interruptions. Which meant he wasn’t thrilled when Izuku emerged from the trees with a cheerful, “Kacchan!”

But since he was there, Katsuki told him to make himself useful, and they’d settled into a friendly spar. And without any teachers to ensure they held back, their spar had swiftly spiraled into a competitive duel to a frenzied brawl to a graceless heap of grinding hips and clawing nails. Exactly who had initiated the shift, Izuku couldn’t say.

Afterwards, Katsuki had combed his fingers through his tangle of blonde hair, dislodging leaves and twigs, and calmly threatened Izuku with incineration if he mentioned the incident to anyone. Izuku, who’d been a hair’s breadth away from confessing he’d been in love with his childhood friend for most of his life, had instead swallowed his hurt and pretended it hadn’t meant the world to him.

Izuku was no novice to rejection, and so he’d left, heartbroken but believing the matter to be over.

Until Katsuki had cornered him outside his room a week later with furious insults about fucking nerds with crazy hair and ugly freckles. He’d given Izuku a chance to object—which Izuku had politely declined by dragging him into his room and ripping the shirt off Katsuki’s back—before Katsuki had attacked his neck and mouth and chest and… well, they had defined ‘quick and dirty.’

Unfortunately, the next day, All Might had launched his campaign to drive Izuku insane via public humiliation, and they’d hardly had a moment since that hadn’t been disrupted by an inane message from the campus speakers which were fucking everywhere.

+++

“This is your brilliant plan?”

Izuku ignored Katsuki’s unimpressed tone and shed the towel from around his hips. The room was small, the bathtub taking up the majority of the space. Katsuki was already reclining in the hot water, watching Izuku climb into the tub, those crimson eyes trekking lazily down his chest.

“I heard All Might leave with Aizawa-sensei for Tokyo. But they won’t be gone long so we have to hurry.”

As upperclassmen and members of the Big Three, they had special privileges, including their own bathhouse. There were speakers here, too, but no cameras. With All Might off campus, no one would bother them there, and Izuku admitted the prospect of Katsuki wet and naked might have had something to do with it as well. Possibly.

Without preamble, Izuku bent over the other boy, his fingers pushing into spiky blonde hair, and pressed his mouth to Katsuki’s. And then any thought of All Might and what the man was doing to his personal life dissolved under the hot slide of Katsuki’s tongue. Having a personal life at all was still such a strange and wondrous thing, something Izuku wanted to cup in his hands and hold close, hoard away and keep under glass where it’d be safe but his to admire.

It felt brittle, and Izuku didn’t like thinking that anything between him and Katsuki could be considered fragile.

So, “Stand up, Kacchan.”

He pulled away, not out of reach but just enough to give Katsuki room. With a glower at being told what to do, Katsuki pushed to his feet, the hair at the nape of his neck plastered wetly to his skin. Standing, the bathwater reached mid-thigh, and Izuku felt his cheeks flush and his mouth water at the sight.

Katsuki crossed his arms. “I thought you said we have to hurry.”

Izuku swallowed thickly before nodding. “Right,” he said, and dropped to his knees.

He braced one hand against Katsuki’s stomach, the muscles tightening beneath his palm, and dragged his lips up the smooth skin of Katsuki’s inner thigh. He pressed his nose into the indentation where thigh met groin, flicked his tongue out to trace the seam of muscle up to the cut of his hipbone where a faded scar marred the pale skin.

Callused fingers fisted in his hair, and Katsuki muttered a strangled, “Fuck,” before he dragged Izuku away from sucking livid marks into wet skin and shoved his face into his fully hard dick. Izuku didn’t mind the rough treatment—neither of them were patient enough for soft kisses or slow caresses.

Katsuki was beautiful. He was solid but lithe, powerful, capable, and all the things Izuku admired in a comrade, but he didn’t know if Katsuki knew how to be gentle.

And it didn’t matter anyway as Izuku pressed quick, hot kisses up Katsuki’s cock. He opened his mouth, ran his tongue along the thick underside. He tasted the tip with eager lips before sucking him down and listening with two parts dizzying desire and one part smug satisfaction at the way Katsuki moaned. His hand tightened in Izuku’s hair, guiding him up and down, hissing briefly at careless teeth. Izuku’s hands on his hips were the only thing keeping him from bucking into Izuku’s mouth.

With a groan, Izuku tugged away and winced when Katsuki’s fingers twisted against his scalp, ripping several hairs loose.

“Ow, geez, just wait. I don’t want you to finish yet.”

“Deku, you asshole,” Katsuki said, voice low and gravelly in a way that made Izuku’s toes curl. “If you don’t put your mouth back, I’m going to kill you.”

Izuku scoffed. “I’m sure you’d rather have it somewhere else than in my mouth,” he said as he bent over the tub to reach his pants. He tugged out a small bottle from the pocket before turning back around and presenting it to Katsuki with a triumphant grin.

Katsuki gave him a glare that fell distinctly short due to the way he sagged against the rim of the tub. His chest and cheeks were flushed pink, hair in wet disarray around his face. “Have you been carrying around lube in your pocket all day, nerd?”

Izuku rolled his eyes and uncapped the bottle. He poured a liberal amount over his fingers before setting it on a narrow counter just to the side. Suddenly self-conscious at the way Katsuki watched him with intense, narrowed eyes, Izuku faltered.

Everything had seemed so easy when he was planning this, his dick admittedly taking lead, but now, exposed and vulnerable in front of the boy he’d loved for as long as he could remember… He bit his lip, second guessing what he was doing. They hadn’t spoken about this… thing… between them. At least not in the ways that mattered. What if this didn’t mean anything to Katsuki? What if this was really just about their stupid teen hormones and taking advantage of the opportunity to stop being a virgin?

Then Katsuki’s head slowly tilted, gaze sharpening as if he knew exactly what was going through Izuku’s head, even without him mumbling every insecure thought under his breath. All he said was, “Izuku.”

And Izuku was lost. If this was all he got to have, he wasn’t going to turn it down.

Rubbing the lube between his fingers, he flashed Katsuki a shy smile and then reached back to push a finger into his hole.

Katsuki’s nostrils flared on a sharp inhale. Izuku would have laughed except Katsuki’s cock had visibly jerked when he realized just exactly what Izuku was doing. The promise of where that would soon go made Izuku’s eyes roll back.

“What are you doing, Izuku?” he asked, his voice a harsh rasp.

“What does it look like?” He pushed another finger in and moaned, not because it felt particularly good but because of the effect it had on Katsuki. Katsuki made a strangled sound and glowered, looking pissed and horny and why that should turn Izuku on so much, he had no idea.

“Why?” Katsuki almost choked on the word.

Izuku didn’t know what he was so flustered about. Katsuki had always been so straightforward before this, forging ahead into uncharted territory with his usual brash confidence. The uncertainty in the slight wrinkle between his brows made Izuku pause again.

“Do… uh, do you not want to?” he asked, already pulling his fingers from his ass.

Katsuki made a small sound that was almost a whine. “Don’t stop,” he hissed.

The embarrassment settled into reassurance, heat rising in Izuku’s face that was only partly due to the water temperature.

“I wanted to take advantage of All Might being gone,” he said, answering Katsuki’s question of ‘why’ while also not answering it at all.

Katsuki all but growled as he said, “Do not mention that man right now.”

With a quiet laugh, Izuku pushed a third finger inside. He’d practiced this a bit at night, alone in his bed with only his fantasies, but it still felt weird at first. Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, he pushed down against his fingers, forcing them deeper. The discomfort was beginning to fade, replaced with a pleasant ache.

Katsuki was growing steadily redder as he watched Izuku’s lewd display. He’d braced his weight against the side of the tub, one hand clenching and unclenching against his thigh as his other pulled slowly at his cock, the head swollen and leaking. Izuku swallowed. The sight was enough to make him want to be back on his knees, to part his lips and bathe it with his tongue, to make Katsuki shout his name, not Deku but ‘Izuku, Izuku, Izuku.’

“Are you going to touch me or just stand there and watch?” Izuku asked breathlessly.

“Don’t you ever shut up?” Katsuki snapped before lunging forward and dragging Izuku against him.

Izuku pulled his fingers from his ass and whispered, “Fuck me,” against Katsuki’s mouth.

The effect was immediate. Katsuki groaned and kissed him, open mouthed and devouring, and Izuku felt lost in the vertigo.

“Nnnnff,” he said before he reached blindly for the bottle of oil. He shoved it at Katsuki. “Put it on yourself.”

Katsuki took it from him before Izuku stumbled away a step to bend over the edge of the tub, hands braced against the wall and legs parted.

“Where’d you get this anyway?” Katsuki asked. He sounded short of breath.

“From Shinsou.”

“What?”

“Just shut up and hurry.” He glanced over his shoulder to where Katsuki had finished coating his dick and discarded the bottle.

For some godforsaken reason, Katsuki paused, his gaze riveted to Izuku’s ass, presented to him like a whole damn feast. Izuku wiggled his hips impatiently.

“Kacchan, please,” he said through his teeth. “I want you.”

His eyes shut in bliss when Katsuki’s hands finally slipped around his hips. Lips and teeth nipped at his spine, and he arched his back, pushing against Katsuki until he felt a thick cock slide between the cradle of his butt cheeks. Katsuki dug his nails into Izuku’s hips before smoothing his palms up wet skin to splay against the small of his back. His fingers danced along his spine, retracing the path of his mouth.

Leaning forward, Katsuki nudged his nose into the soft hollow of skin beneath Izuku’s jaw. A warm tongue traced swirls against the skin of his neck. He swallowed with difficulty. He wanted to ask what Katsuki was doing, why he was suddenly giving him what he would never dare to ask for—a lover’s touch. It was terrifying and exhilarating and Izuku wanted nothing more than to know what Katsuki was thinking.

But asking, any verbal acknowledgment at all, Izuku thought, would ruin the moment and push them firmly back into their familiar roles. So he turned his head just enough to nuzzle Katsuki’s hair, to breathe in his scent of clean soap and burnt caramel. Katsuki slid rough palms up his back, over his shoulders and down his chest, his fingers curling briefly over his stomach, dragging blunt nails over his belly, before finally, finally wrapping around him.

With his other hand, Katsuki reached down to position the head of his dick at Izuku’s hole. Izuku groaned at the first push, but Katsuki’s hand continued to move over his cock, a sharp counterpoint to the ache of being stretched.

“Deku,” Katsuki whispered against his skin. “You’re so fucking tight. You feel so good.”

Izuku relished his words. His thighs trembled and Katsuki’s arm slid forward, wrapping securely around his waist, molding his broad chest to Izuku’s back as he thrust inside.

Izuku cried out, nearly biting his lip bloody, and again, Katsuki stilled save for the steady stroking of his hand. Dragging in a ragged breath of air, Izuku in the feel of Katsuki all around him, chest to back, thigh to thigh, Katsuki’s body draped over and in him like a second skin.

“You good?” Katsuki murmured, the genuine concern in his voice enough to make Izuku’s eyes begin to sting.

He nodded, clutching at the strong arm braced around his waist. His other hand reached behind them to score his nails into the back of Katsuki’s thigh and urge him to move. “So good. S-so… Kacchan. Fuck me. Make me yours.”

It was all the coaxing Katsuki needed. With another curse, he tightened his grip around Izuku, holding him in place as his hips snapped forward in deep, sharp thrusts. Katsuki’s breath was hot against his shoulder—quick, quiet pants that made Izuku want to lick into his mouth and drag more audible sounds from him. Steam from the water curled around their limbs in a bizarre semblance of possession.

The tenderness seemed to have passed because Katsuki’s hips and the thick slide of his cock inside Izuku were anything but gentle. Izuku met every rough thrust, his nails digging crescents into the skin of Katsuki’s forearm. He clenched his ass, felt triumph in the way Katsuki cursed against his neck and shoved even deeper.

“God, Izuku. You’re fucking amazing. Look at you. It’s like you were fucking made for this,” Katsuki muttered into Izuku’s ear, sending tendrils of heat through him.

“Only for you,” Izuku mumbled, not even aware of what he was saying. “Only you.”

Katsuki groaned. The water pulsed around them, rebounding off the walls of the tub to lap at their legs. The tumult of waves sprang up between them, amplifying the wet slap of skin on skin.

He felt teeth against his shoulder, and he moaned Katsuki’s name into the humid air. In response, Katsuki’s rhythm faltered, grew frantic, Izuku’s name a soft growl from that wicked mouth.

It was heady, hearing Katsuki unravel behind him, inside him. Fiery temper aside, Izuku knew Katsuki valued order, liked the control he had on an otherwise unpredictable life as a fledgling hero. He could feel the threads of Katsuki’s control come loose in the jerk of his hips, the way his lips passed without pause over the nape of Izuku’s neck, the way his fingers tightened around Izuku’s cock, just holding it between thrusts before he remembered to continue stroking.

Izuku felt lightheaded and overheated, delirious with pleasure, Katsuki’s body like a brand against his back, so good so good—

The door exploded inward, taking half the wall with it. Katsuki dropped to his knees in the water, dragging Izuku down with him, his body curling over Izuku’s to shield him from the flying debris.

“What the…?” Izuku shoved Katsuki’s arm aside and sputtered as water splashed into his open mouth. He blinked through the settling dust.

All Might stood in the ruined doorway, the support weapon strapped around his thin arm smoking. He watched the two of them through narrowed blue eyes dark with disapproval and disappointment both.

“Hm,” he said, before lowering his arm and the support weapon. “I thought so.”

Because Katsuki’s naked chest and the side of his face consumed most of Izuku’s vision, he saw the moment Katsuki snapped. Katsuki slid out of him, and he winced. Katsuki would have then lunged at the man, quirk activated in all his wet, naked glory, if Izuku hadn’t tightened his arm around Katsuki’s waist.

“That’s fucking it! I’ve had enough of this goddamn bullshit! He’s not your pupil anymore, you—” Katsuki must held onto a shred of his self-preservation because he cut himself off before he could insult his childhood idol.

But he did shove Izuku off of him with more force than was necessary. Luckily, Izuku was too busy glaring a hole through All Might’s head to be bothered by it. Katsuki reached for his jacket and dragged it over his nakedness.

“Why are you still standing there?” he snapped. “This is sadistic, even for you.”

All Might didn’t acknowledge his temper tantrum. Instead, he pointed his support weapon at Katsuki. “You. We need to have a talk.”

Katsuki didn’t flinch. He stared down the barrel of the weapon before nodding curtly. All Might seemed satisfied with this because he lowered it again.

“Midoriya-shounen, get dressed. You look indecent.”

Izuku flushed with renewed anger, but All Might stepped from the room before he could do much else but wordlessly flap his jaw. Rising from the water, he swallowed back the furious knot in his throat and turned to Katsuki.

Katsuki tossed his jacket aside and wrapped a towel around his hips. Izuku noted with deep regret that he was no longer hard.

“Kacchan… I’m sorry about All Might—”

“Why are you apologizing, shitty nerd?”

“B-because… Actually, what did he mean by that? What do you two need to talk about?”

“Mind your own business. I can handle lunatic heroes.” Katsuki waved his hand in a dismissive gesture before gathering up his clothes and stalking from the ruined bathhouse.

Izuku stood in his wake, dripping a puddle into the dust and wondering how best to get away with kidnapping Katsuki and disappearing off the grid for a month. Maybe he could convince Shinsou to brainwash All Might...

+++

Izuku found comfort the best way he knew how—with hero documentaries (but notably, not All Might’s). Todoroki sat beside him on the floor of his bedroom, eyeing his fidgeting hands with a worried crease of his brows.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Midoriya?”

“I’m fine,” Izuku mumbled.

Todoroki blinked. “You haven’t said a single thing since this began. Usually, you’re like Present Mic with the streaming commentary.”

Izuku should probably be embarrassed about that, but he couldn’t muster the energy. Not for the first time, he wished he could make sense of his mentor. What could have possibly driven him to blow up half a bathhouse and interrupt his former pupil in the middle of mind blowing, frantic, sweaty sex? His groin twitched in memory. Whimpering, he dropped his head into his hands.

“Um. Midoriya?” Todoroki poked his shoulder.

“Just tired,” he mumbled.

After a moment of silence, Todoroki said, “I’ll go find Uraraka. She’s better at this…” He trailed off, probably not sure what this even was.

Izuku barely heard him. For all the things he didn’t understand about All Might, there were twice as many that he did. A bystander might not have been able to tell, but Izuku had known immediately that All Might had been furious. And with Katsuki, no less, although he had yet to work out why. When he’d pointed his support weapon at Katsuki, Izuku knew that All Might would have used it if necessary.

He'd always been really good at playing a villain, even if it had only been pretend back in first year.

All Might’s anger, at the time, had seemed irrelevant next to Izuku’s. But now, with the benefit of perspective, he had trouble pinpointing where exactly All Might’s anger could have stemmed from.

Sure, Katsuki wasn’t exactly deferential to his teachers and most pro heroes, retired or otherwise, but he acknowledged their rank and experience over his. As far as Izuku could tell, there was very little Katsuki could have done to All Might to warrant such an explosive response.

The man had interrupted every attempt Izuku and Katsuki had made to be alone for a solid three weeks. Then, when they’d finally gotten the chance, he’d blown apart the door and pointed a weapon at Katsuki’s head. It was as if he were deliberately trying to keep them apart…

(“Hm. I thought so.”)

Izuku abruptly straightened. “Impossible…” All Might hadn’t been angry with Izuku (that he could tell). Which implied…

“Heh. Haha. Hahaha. No way. That’s ridiculous.”

Izuku cupped his head again, which was beginning to hurt. Perhaps All Might hadn’t been wiling away his boredom by torturing Izuku after all… perhaps he’d been trying to protect Izuku’s… innocence?

The thought made him dissolve into a fit of less-than-sane laughter. It didn’t seem possible that All Might trying to protect Izuku had become synonymous with ruining his life at UA, and consequently sabotaging his newfound appreciation for sex. With Katsuki.

“Oh god,” he said before thudding his head against the side of his bed.

He sat in a stupor for an indefinite amount of time, hearing little else but the buzzing in his ears and the droning narrator in the documentary, until familiar footsteps approached his door, which Todoroki had left ajar.

Izuku chanced a glance and winced. Katsuki looked livid. He stiffened, prepared to activate OFA, as Katsuki shoved the door open the rest of the way and stalked inside. Then he reached down to haul him off the floor by the back of his t-shirt.

“Hey! What happened with All Might?” Izuku’s eyes widened at the scorch marks on Katsuki’s jacket. “Did he attack you?!”

“I’m fine, Deku. I don’t need you getting angry on my behalf. I can handle him myself.”

Aside from his singed jacket, he appeared otherwise unharmed. His words, despite their harsh delivery, put Izuku at ease. He was so relieved, he didn’t fight as Katsuki manhandled him out the door and down the hallway.

“Well?” Izuku said after Katsuki had pulled him into the stairwell. “What happened?”

“All Might and I came to an understanding.”

Izuku grimaced. “What… what kind of understanding?”

Katsuki’s shoulders stiffened. “He will accept our… dating,” he said the word with such distaste that Izuku couldn’t help but grin, “so long as I don’t touch you again until you’re thirty.”

Izuku dug in his heels and pulled free of Katsuki’s grip. “Wait, wait, wait. You mean he really has been just… protecting me? From you?” Izuku’s hands fisted. He’d suffered weeks of humiliation, having to apologize profusely to every student and teacher for hours after each disruptive transmission, because of some misguided attempt to protect his virtue?

Katsuki crossed his arms. “Yes. He’s an imbecile. I see where you got it from now.” He latched onto Izuku’s neck again and pulled him farther up the stairs.

“…until I’m thirty… What kind of…? What was he thinking?”

Katsuki didn’t reply, and Izuku finally had the presence of mind to notice that he was dragging him upstairs, not down to the common room.

“Uh. Kacchan. Did… did you agree with him?”

“Yes.”

Izuku’s shoulders slumped. “Then what are we doing?”

“Disobeying him.”

Izuku smirked, inordinately pleased, and tugged away, beating Katsuki to his room.

All Might would probably blast them both. But it would be worth it.

~fin