Be a good boy - Chapter 2 [NSFW]

The classroom door opened and when Katsuki looked up, he froze. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, when they said a guest teacher was coming in, but this... This was not it.

“For those of you who aren't aware, this is Best Jeanist. He's a renowned pro-hero who has graciously offered to come supervise your training today. We have about ten minutes before class ends, so please take this opportunity to ask any questions you may have.”

Katsuki felt himself sinking into his chair, his gaze dropping to his desk, wishing he could disappear just for one day.

There was silence for a moment, then a hand raised from the back of the classroom.

“Mister Best Jeanist, Sir,” Uraraka spoke up, with almost too much innocence in her tone. “I understand that you care a lot about the way civilians see you, but what I wondered is why you assign more value to a Hero's appearance than their work ethic and accomplishments?”

Katsuki's eyes widened, and he heard a tiny snicker from the row behind him, but he didn't dare to speak or turn around.

“Well,” Best Jeanist began, not entirely covering up his hesitation. “A good hero should be able to inspire loyalty and admiration from civilians, so that they will trust him to keep them safe.”

“But Sir,” Kirishima spoke up, catching on immediately to Uraraka's game. “Aren't they most likely to have faith in someone who produces results rather than someone who looks approachable in the streets?”

“You don't get to be a top-ranked hero without producing results, there is no reason why you cannot do both.”

“But surely one is much more important than the other, and people should be dedicating their spare time to one over the other.”

Best Jeanist glanced over at Aizawa but only got a blank stare in return, not a hint of help with his students.

“Best Jeanist, Sir,” a new voice, and the tone alone made Katsuki want to cover his ears. “Why is it that everyone at your agency is required to dress to match you, rather than wear their own hero costumes? Surely the costume makers provided them with something more efficient and useful?”

“Right?!” Kaminari piped up, “trying to fight in jeans is the worst!”

“While I appreciate the dedication to fashion,” Aoyama nodded along, “I, too, don't quite understand it.”

The class quickly dissolved into a heated discussion over the worst clothes to fight in, and Katsuki only sank lower and lower in his chair, his face burning bright red.

“Alright, settle down,” Aizawa sighed. “It's time for you all to go change for training, don't be late.”

“Okay, Sensei,” the class chorused, grabbing their bags and finding their feet.

As the class filed out, Katsuki found himself stuck to his chair, unable to find the limb control to follow them. Aizawa eyed him with a hint of curiosity that he pretended not to notice, looking out the window instead, but he jumped when he felt a hand touch his shoulder blade.

“Come on, Bakugou,” Uraraka said with a smile. “Are you daydreaming again?”

His body felt lighter under her touch and he took a moment to catch on, only understanding when Asui pulled him from his seat with very little effort. He didn't complain about the hands or the crowding as a group of girls steered him toward the door, instead strangely grateful for their innate sense of people in need. Kirishima and Izuku were both waiting in the hall, just outside the door, and Kirishima grinned when he saw them coming.

“Oh come on,” he laughed, “Bakugou, you promised me lunch today, you need to learn to say no to the ladies.”

“Y-Yeah, sorry,” Katsuki mumbled. “I'm coming, really.”

It wasn't until they rounded a corner that Katsuki felt his weight come back to him, Izuku and Kirishima each grabbing an arm quickly to steady him, and his face burned red as they leaned him lightly against a wall.

“What was all that?” he grumbled, covering his sweaty face with his hand. “Why did you do that?”

“Bakugou, you're our classmate. Our friend.” Uraraka said, with the same soft tone of voice. “He was a jerk to you and we all know it.”

“Yeah dude,” Kirishima agreed, “I know I laughed about it at the time, but it was kind of messed up, y'know? He invited you to his agency just to treat you like shit.”

Everyone nodded their agreement, and Katsuki peeked through his fingers to watch in confusion.

“But I'm an asshole,” he muttered.

“Sure, but you're our asshole. Only we get to insult you.”

He cracked a smile at that, dropping his hands back to his sides, and nodded faintly.

“Okay,” he said finally. “Um... Thanks. For the help, you know. I was kind of...”

“We know,” Asui nodded, “it's okay.”

Slowly people started to dissipate, with empathetic smiles and little waves, and he nodded faintly to acknowledge them. Soon it was just Kirishima and Izuku standing either side of him, leaning against the wall to match, and Katsuki stumbled over his words.

“I don't think I can go to class,” he said finally. “I'll tell them I was sick or something.”

“Don't let him win,” Kirishima answered stubbornly. “We're behind you, you just saw it. He'll regret the day he messed with one of our classmates.”

“And tonight we're having a class bonfire,” Izuku added with a smile. “We're gonna burn those jeans he made you wear.”

“You're joking.”

“It was the first suggestion anyone made when we found out you still have them,” Kirishima grinned.

“Did you guys know he was coming?”

“Oh,” he grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, we did.”

“Why did no one tell me?”

“We thought it would be worse if you were anticipating it. But look, everyone totally agrees that everything he said to you was just cruel bullshit, so no one is going to let him get away with it. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki mumbled, nodding. “I guess we should go get changed.”

“Yeah, we should. Let's go.”

Together they headed back to the dorms, Kirishima and Izuku still flanking him for support both emotional and physical, Katsuki’s legs still strangely wobbly beneath him.

For a long time he’d actually liked seeing Best Jeanist. He’d learned a lot from the guy, even if some of his methods were frankly shit, but bringing him in at a time where his place in the school had just been threatened felt like an intentional jab at him. Once upon a time he had kept his hero name a secret until he could tell Best Jeanist first, but now he was forgetting how to walk when the guy was around.

Ugh.

Kirishima waved as he stepped into his bedroom, and Izuku followed Katsuki wordlessly into his own. They’d long since started leaving a clean hero costume in each other’s room to get five minutes of hanging out while they changed, not to mention that strange intimacy of helping each other get dressed for class, so they were far beyond the point of being questioned when they stuck together between classes.

Katsuki retrieved their hangers from the closet, handing over Izuku’s before he laid out his own to start getting dressed, and the room was oddly silent around them, Izuku deep in thought about something Katsuki couldn’t begin to guess.

“I want you to talk to me,” he said finally.

Katsuki looked up, halfway through changing his pants, at Izuku's firm expression, green eyes boring into his soul.

“About what?”

“About this,” he held up the steel collar in explanation. “Part of mewantsto tell you not to wear it today, because I don't want you to feel submissive when he's around. I want you to be willing to stand up for yourself. But I don’t want you to feel like you did something wrong and I’m taking it away from you. So talk to me, tell me what you think.”

“I think...” Katsuki trailed off, reaching for his shirt. “That it's nice of you to consider it.”

“That's not what I meant.”

“And,” Katsuki continued, “that it's only you I ever feel submissive towards. I don't think wearing a collar changes that, it’s still... You.”

“I'm going to leave it up to you, okay? You can choose whether or not you wear it today.”

Katsuki took it from his hand and slotted it around his neck with no hesitation, letting it click into place, then glancing back at Izuku's tiny smile.

“You have my back, right?” he asked quietly, kissing Izuku's cheek. “You have to protect me if I'm wearing it.”

“I'll always protect you, I promise.”

“Then it's fine. I'll be good.”

“Okay,” Izuku smiled a little more warmly, kissing Katsuki's forehead. “Come on, then.”

They walked much slower than usual as they headed over to the training grounds, and Katsuki realised it might have been the first time since he’d started at U.A. that he’d been reluctant to get to class. He was Bakugou Katsuki, he’d never missed a class in his life unless it was absolutely unavoidable, and yet here he was, hoping against all hope that maybe he’d be hit by a sudden bout of diarrhea or maybe a truck.

The moment he arrived, though, he found his friends once again gathering around him, absorbing him into their little cluster and shielding from view. He was surprised, and honestly a little touched, by the way they flanked him at every moment of their class when it began, made sure he was the first to be picked in pairs or groups, never gave Jeanist and All Might a second to think they might not want to work with him.

For the entire hour, there was never a moment when Jeanist managed to get him alone, never a chance for him to complain or lecture or berate Katsuki for his choices, his friends already giving him a high five and dragging him off the other direction by the time Jeanist could open his mouth. Even All Might seemed a little amused by it, watching fondly from the sidelines, and finally Jeanist seemed to give up on whatever it was he wanted to complain about, retreating to watch the next group go through their exercise.

“Aww Blasty, you’re so nice today!” Ashido grinned, ruffling his spikes. “Maybe we need to defend your honour more often!”

“Shut up, Pinky,” Katsuki growled, shooting her a quick glare. “I don’t need you assholes protecting me.”

“Uh-huh, okay,” Ashido humoured him. “Come on, you’re not yourself today. I mean, I get it, but come on! I miss loudmouth Blasty Boy!”

“Whatever,” Katsuki huffed, shooting a glare at Jeanist while his back was turned. “They brought him here deliberately. To mess with me.”

“Why would they do that?”

“They want him to tame me or some shit.”

“Oh Boomy, Midoriya did that a long time ago.”

Katsuki wished he could deny it, but he knew every single moment of their relationship would refute the claim. Izuku had him wrapped around his little finger, and Katsuki didn’t even care. He loved the guy, had done for a long time, and even if he still wasn’t ready to say the word out loud, he knew Izuku knew it too. They were like a favourite childhood book to each other, well-worn and memorised, maybe a little beat up from their history together, but completely and utterly cherished. They knew every word of each other’s pages, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Denki calls you whipped,” Ashido continued, giggling. “He’s not wrong.”

“Electrodolt is just jealous that I have a boyfriend.”

“You’re not wrong.”

The next group was called, and Ashido grabbed Katsuki by the hand, dragging him into a mess of their ridiculous “squad” to take a turn at the challenge. Katsuki knew Jeanist was making it extra hard whenever he was involved, giving alterations that required teamwork and calmness, but he also knew... Well, his friends had his back.

Not that he’d say that out loud.

“Ready to blow this joint, Bakubro?” Kirishima grinned, clapping him on the back. “Let’s show him how the Bakusquad does things around here.”

“I swear to God if you ever say that word again I will explode your damn face.”

“Love you too, bro.”

─────

Izuku was waiting on the bed when Katsuki got back, somehow a minute ahead every single time, and he smirked as he spun the key around his finger.

“Were you good today, Kacchan?”

“I tried.”

“Yes or no.”

Katsuki hesitated, dropping his gaze to his worn out socks.

“No, not really. Maybe for a little while.”

Izuku tutted as he moved closer, easily moving Katsuki's face to look at him, holding his chin firmly in place.

“What happens to naughty boys, Kacchan?”

“W-What?”

“If you're not good, what do you think happens?”

“I... I don't know,” he admitted. “Sir.”

“Should I tell you what happens to naughty boys?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“They get punished.”

Katsuki flooded red, suddenly questioning every decision he'd made so far, and Izuku only smirked at the nerves emanating from him.

“What do you think I should do, Kacchan? You told me you weren't good today. Would you like to tell me what you did wrong?”

“I yelled at people a lot, even though I said I wouldn’t. I got carried away and stopped thinking, I guess.”

“How many times?”

“I don't know.”

“I counted seventeen times while you were in costume. That's a lot, isn't it?”

“Was it really-? Yeah, that's a lot.”

“So what am I going to do with you, Kacchan?”

“P-Punish me, Sir?”

“Good answer. Put your hands on the wall.”

He obeyed without question, and quickly Izuku was reaching around him to open his fly, slipping his pants down to his ankles. It took a moment for Katsuki to understand, freezing when the hand brushed over his butt cheek, and he looked back with wide eyes.

“You don't take your hands off the wall,” Izuku instructed him, running a finger over the hard collar. “Is that understood?”

“Y-Yes, Sir.”

“You're going to count for me. Out loud.”

His palm slapped Katsuki's ass cheek firmly, and Katsuki grunted, squeezing his eyes closed.

“One,” he mumbled, when Izuku waited expectantly.

“A little louder.”

“Two,” he gasped, as the hand struck him again. “Three.”

It felt like an eternity, his ass red and stinging by the time he got to a shuddering seventeen, and Izuku planted a light kiss on it to finish.

“Lie down for me, Kacchan.”

He gingerly made his way to the bed, not bothering to pull his pants up or rub his ass, collapsing face first into the pillow. The hands were gentle this time when they touched him, though, rubbing something into the wounds with slow circles, and after a minute it didn't feel quite so painful anymore.

“Are we going to yell and be mean seventeen times tomorrow?”

“No, Sir.”

“Good boy. Let's take this off, then.”

He reached for his key again and Katsuki hesitated, his hand flying to his throat.

“Can I keep it?” he asked faintly, his cheeks burning. “A little longer?”

“Yeah, of course you can. Are you in a bit of a mood tonight?”

“Kind of,” he admitted, still blushing. “Sorry.”

“It's okay, you have nothing to apologise for. You want to play?”

“Yes please.”

“Good, you've gotten me all hot and bothered now. Think you can jerk me off?”

“Yes, Sir.”

It didn't take a lot to get Izuku's pants off, but with the swollen penis in his face he hesitated, and Izuku patted his cheek lightly.

“It's okay, you've done this before, I know you'll make me feel good.”

“Actually, Sir, I was going to ask if I could... Um... Suck you off?”

“You want to?”

“Yeah. I haven't done it before, though, so...”

“I'm sure you'll be amazing,” Izuku assured him, running a hand through blond locks. “You're so good at everything you do, Kacchan, you probably give the best blowjobs in the world.”

Katsuki's face burned red but he didn't try to speak, swallowing nervously as he stared at the swollen erection.

“Can you tell me how, Sir?”

“You know how. You mean, like, step by step?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Start by licking me, see how I taste.”

Something about the choice of words made Katsuki's dick throb, but he stuck out his tongue and licked a stripe from base to tip, contemplating it. The base didn't really seem any different to other parts of his body, where he'd kissed and sucked and left his marks before. The tip, though, was tainted with a hint of salt, something a little bitter, and he wasn't sure he liked it, but he took another lick to test it out.

“Now take just a little bit in your mouth,” Izuku directed him. “Don't try to go all the way and choke yourself, just a little and see what it feels like.”

Again Katsuki obeyed, and Izuku found himself struggling to form the sentences with Katsuki’s warm, wet mouth around him, stimulating him from every angle.

“Yeah, just like that, Kacchan. Good. Good boy. When you think you can, go a little more, and just keep doing that. It's okay if you can't go all the way.”

Like hell.

It didn't take long for him to ease himself down toward the base, hyper aware of his face buried in Izuku's crotch, and despite the discomfort, Izuku's obvious pleasure when he started to move back and forth made it worthwhile.

“Good, Kacchan. Good boy, so good. Just like that. I'll tell you when I'm close, and you can stop.”

Katsuki grumbled a little but Izuku didn't mention it, too busy gasping for air and trying to stay upright. He really was a sight to behold, flushed and sweaty, and Katsuki did his best to burn the image into his brain, to save it for future jerk-off sessions when Izuku was too busy to join him.

“I'm right there, Kacchan,” Izuku breathed. “I'm so close.”

Katsuki continued stubbornly, and it took a moment for Izuku to catch on, running a hand through the short, blond hair again.

“Are you sure?”

Katsuki's only answer was to move his head a little faster, and Izuku laughed breathlessly, bracing himself against the wall at the head of the bed.

“You're amazing, Kacchan. You're so perfect, and so gorgeous, and- Mmmmmm.”

His words turned into a long moan, and when Katsuki licked a little at the tip, it all came out. It filled his mouth faster than he could swallow, spilling over his lips, but he did his best to keep as much of itcontained as possible. It trickled down his chin when Izuku's cock slid from his mouth, and the taste of it burned the back of his throat when he forced himself to swallow the rest.

“Wow, Kacchan,” Izuku laughed, opening his eyes again to look down at hispatiently waiting boyfriend. “That was fantastic.”

Katsuki licked the last of the cum from his lips, and Izuku groaned, shaking his head.

“Don't do that when I just came, you'll just have to start over.”

Sure enough, Izuku's limp dick was a little more attentive again already, and Katsuki couldn't resist a smile.

“Would you like me to do it again, Sir?”

“No, God no, I think you'd kill me. Later. You're such a good little slut.”

Katsuki's jaw dropped open when he felt his dick respond, barely restraining himself, and Izuku saw it just as much as Katsuki felt it.

“You like that, do you? You like being called a little slut?”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and Izuku smirked as he leaned in closer.

“You're such a good little whore, aren't you? On your knees licking up my cum, begging to suck me off again and again. You were made for this, born for this role, and you're so good at it, you look so hot doing it. Are you gonna cum for me, Kacchan? Can you cum just from listening?”

As much as Katsuki wanted to say no, he suspected that wasn't the right answer. Not only not what Izuku wanted to hear, but probably incorrect too.

“Do it,” Izuku instructed him, pulling his head back roughly by the hair and sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin of his neck. “Cum like a good little fucktoy.”

Just like that Katsuki was spilling out between them, gasping for air as he sullied the towels they'd thankfully set down, and Izuku was smirking again as he kissed at the teeth marks.

“Good boy, Kacchan. Just like I told you, so well-behaved.”