Archive of Our Own

The classrooms at UA remain familiar after all these years, and Katsuki blames Izuku fully and thoroughly for their inability to move on from high school. 

"I see a grey hair," Katsuki sneers, squinting at Izuku from his pilfered seat on top of a student's desk.

Izuku sighs. "Kacchan, be patient. I have to finish work."

Katsuki throws a wad of paper at Izuku's head. "I sent you the damn reservation time, and look at you. Not a hint of fucks given. Now you're making me late to the start of my own vacation."

"... is it really a vacation? Aren't you suspended from the field for that incident with the broken collarbone and a tub of butter?"

"My collarbone is fine," Katsuki knows, he suffered through the reattaching process. The less said about the butter, the better. Katsuki has a mandatory two weeks off work handed down by Hawks himself, which, whatever. It's fine. Eighteen year old Katsuki would've thrown a fit, but he is older. Wiser. And it will take the full two weeks to get the butter grease out of the crevices of his poor gauntlets. 

Plus, free time is hard to come by. Kirishima is always on his ass about taking a break, complaining he works too much and needs to relax. This forced vacation allows him leeway to sprawl in Izuku's presence and bug the living shit out of his oldest friend for kicks. Which when it comes down to it is Katsuki’s lifelong hobby.  

He throws another piece of paper. It bounces perfectly off Izuku's forehead and into the waste basket with a swish. "Ha! Nothing but net. Beat that nerd."

Izuku's shoulders shake, his lips pursed as he covers the schoolwork protectively while whining 'Kacchan.'

"You need reading glasses," Katsuki points out obnoxiously. "If your nose gets any closer to that paper, failing students will sell their work covered in your leftover DNA to villains."

"That was one time! And it wasn't - they were just enterprising young ones, trying to make money off of my reclusive and therefore rare nature."

"A third year was selling your used gym towels on the black market."

Izuku huffs like Katsuki is being unreasonable. He isn't, just for the record. His concern for Izuku's integrity goes deep. Kids are leeches. The worst offenders are the hero fans who take creepshots of their sensei when Izuku does things like kick their asses in training, his experience shining through in how he handles the brats until they squirm defeated on the mats, his expression a reflection of their youth.

... Katsuki follows those accounts just to make sure nothing super important gets leaked. 

"I'm almost done, Kacchan. Two more to go so put your dramatics away, okay?"

"Fuck you!" Katsuki shouts, dramatically. "Gods, you are slow."

The door to the class slides open, not unexpected with how much noise Katsuki irritates out of Izuku. 

"This is a school, you know." Aizawa glares through the doorway, sneering at Katsuki’s disrespectful position.

"It's after hours," Katsuki argues. "And blame this guy for why I'm not swearing in a bar instead."

Aizawa's gaze flickers to Izuku where it sharpens. "Working overtime again, Midoriya?"

Izuku flushes, scratching the back of his neck. "Yes, sorry! I'm almost done."

"Be done now."

Katsuki sucks on his teeth and jumps off the desk, feet planted on the floor. Squaring himself up, Katsuki is pleased to know that while Aizawa remains taller than him, Katsuki could probably beat his old teacher in a brawl. It makes him cocky, excited. 

"What's your excuse?" Katsuki asks, disrespect dripping derisively with every syllable. "Wandering the school halls like a ghost, don't you got robots to do that dirty work?"

"Kacchan!" Izuku gasps. "Don't be so rude!"

Aizawa simply raises an eyebrow. "Mind your own business."

Katsuki smirks. "Nah. Izuku's making me wait, and now I'm bored."

"A dangerous situation, I'm sure."

"Idle hands, sensei." Katsuki ignores Izuku mumbled prayers. Aizawa's eye twinkles, the curve of his lip lifting up in amusement. It's a small thing, a miniscule change in expression, but Katsuki latches on to it like a dog spotting an unattended steak for the taking. Idle hands indeed, and the devil spurs him on. "That's an idea. Want to keep us out of trouble?"

"I tend not to bother with the impossible."

"You managed well enough when I was a kid. Impossible would be continuing without a break, old man." Katsuki takes out his phone and types a quick message to the bar owner, adding a seat to his reservation. "Done. You are coming for drinks."

Izuku's eyes bug out of his head. "Kacchan! What are you doing?"

"Inviting your boss out for some social time," Katsuki gestures to the statue-still form of Aizawa. "Course, usually the boss takes out the younger employee, but I'll foot the bill this time."

"Your impertinence hasn't changed," Aizawa sighs. "I'm not joining you."

"Why not?"

"I may have other plans."

Katsuki snorts. "Cancel them."

"I don't drink."

Katsuki shrugs. Aizawa isn't the only one, Ashido's five months sober now. "Foods good. I'll drink enough for the both of us," Katsuki points at the horrified Izuku, "and you have a two drink minimum, asshole."

".... you realize that you are failing to sell this activity to me. Why exactly would I want to spend my time away from work with -"

"- with the fruits of your labor?" Katsuki stalks up to Aizawa, getting in his face, the challenge set. "Join us, lets catch up. I can tell you about my latest win. You can chat about your group of brats. People say all the time that we gotta have a work-life balance. Relax with us."

"I have a feeling this will be the opposite of relaxing."

Katsuki snorts. He wonders if this is the perverse joy Kaminari gets when he drags a reluctant Katsuki out for socialization. If so, he can understand a little bit more the sadistic glee at Aizawa's grudging acceptance.

"You ready now, nerd?"

Izuku squeaks. 

Aizawa sighs.

And Katsuki grins, tasting victory on the horizon.

A fine spread of food fills the table, but Katsuki ignores it in favor of the drink in his hand. Izuku digs into the meal like a man starved, and Aizawa is no better. Dealing with babies all day must give a man an appetite.

Katsuki leans back into the plush seat, relaxed. His hunger has a different edge tonight. Blaming it on the alcohol is the easy way out, but in truth it goes deeper. Katsuki walked out of the hospital with a pep in his step, his body humming and alive. The need to feel something, to be present in his flesh is a fresh tickle in his brain.

Izuku will not shy from Katsuki’s casual touches when he uses the alcohol as a cloak to hide his neediness.  "Kacchan is a friendly drunk," Izuku noted many moons ago, and Katsuki has never done anything to dissuade that impression. If he can get Izuku's skin under his palms by playing pretend, by forcing the pieces in place for Izuku to let down his own guard, then Katsuki will do it. Never one to give up an advantage, Katsuki throws his arm over Izuku's shoulders and ducks his head in close so his breath caresses Izuku's cheek.

"Tell me, Izuku-sensei, do any of this year's munchkins have a hope in hell of making it?"

Izuku flushes, the warm skin of his next turning hot against Katsuki’s bare forearm.  "Th-there's lots of potential -"

Katsuki stops paying attention to the words. Izuku's passion for his class is cute. It turns his eyes bright, his hand movements choppy like he's spent too much time with Iida. Their bodies sway together, Izuku chattering excitedly.

The penetrative gaze of Aizawa doesn't let up. He seems to map the places where Katsuki drapes himself over Izuku, his expression inscrutable. Katsuki twists slightly, his free arm in a sight tension that brings out the curve of his bicep, the angle forcing his shirt tight across his chest. Aizawa's sightline drops, and Katsuki grins, pretends not to notice his ex-teacher stealing a peek.

Katsuki is hot shit. Everyone either wants to be him, or fuck him. He yells at civilians and drops five ranking spots, and recovers as soon as the next candid photo of his ass or arms or tits hits the news stands. Call him arrogant or an entitled asshole, he doesn't give a shit. Not when he has Izuku's and Aizawa's attention.

"Kacchan!" Izuku hisses, scandalized. "What are you doing?!"

Katsuki pauses. His hand is squeezing Izuku's thigh like a stress ball. And okay, maybe he is a little drunk now. 

"... checking to see if you've lost any muscle mass with that damn desk job."

Aizawa snorts. 

Izuku pretends to be a spluttering strawberry. "I - I don't just sit at the desk all day! It's a very physical job -"

"Yeah?" Katsuki stops groping Izuku's thigh, palm sliding dangerously high up, mapping the thickness of the muscles there. Izuku's body is deceptively strong, the boring teacher costume doing a great job of hiding Izuku's assets. Katsuki’s voice pitches low and gravelly, his tongue growing heavy in his mouth. "You get a good workout?"

Izuku’s eyes widen, and he breaks out into a sweat. "Kacchan, you should eat something. Or have some water."

"He needs an ice cold shower," Aizawa says. 

"Sorry!" Izuku flushes, and pushes Katsuki’s hand off his lap. Before the rejection can hit, Izuku is picking up a melon roll and feeding it to Katsuki in a nervous scramble. "Kacchan has always been a bit of a light weight."

"Oi, watch it. I can beat you even drunk."

Izuku furrows his brow before he straightens his spine, dodging Katsuki's returning hands. "Wait - are you drinking on painkillers?!"

"Urgh," Katsuki rolls his eyes. "I'm fine."

"It's not fine! You’ll make yourself sick."

"Nah, I won't. You're looking out for me."

"Midoriya," Aizawa turns to Izuku, ignoring Katsuki pointedly. "Do you remember how I told you every student responds differently to incentives?"

Izuku stops frowning at Katsuki for long enough to give Aizawa his attention. "Uh, yes, of course. Some kids thrive on clear consequences. They need to know what the punishments will be when they misbehave -"

"Yes, and some children are not moved by punishments. Detention and the like drive certain brats further into trouble. Their nature is to reject authority, any sense of oppression immediately met with opposition. Extrinsic consequences won't budge the most stubborn delinquents. What works best is to provide what we call intrinsic motivation. Guide the person to choose to behave, for no gain except their own satisfaction." Aizawa grabs the drink set in front of Katsuki and places it next to Izuku, nodding at it. "You promised Bakugou a two drink minimum, didn't you?"

Izuku takes the glass hesitantly. "Um, yes? I don’t get it though..."

Aizawa takes a hair tie and pulls back his long waves into a single low ponytail, exposing the pale skin of his throat. Katsuki helplessly feels his body draw up tight. Aizawa's collarbone is a sharp line in sight, and Katsuki’s gums ache. The smirk on Aizawa's lips is deadly, adding to the appeal.

"Bakugou already has what he wants," Aizawa says, staring down Katsuki. "We are here in this private booth where he can show off his success, drinking to excess and getting dotted on by you, Midoriya. Why would he behave or change his behaviour?"

"Tch," Katsuki licks his lips. "Right you are, sensei. I've never been a good listener."

"When it benefits you to, you do listen. Of course, you have no fear of discipline. You live to be yelled at, picking fights like it's a sport. Material rewards are forgotten in minutes, tossed aside, a waste of money and effort. You are too smart to be tempted by anything you can go out and get on your own. No, I know what will make you be a good boy."

Katsuki's lungs freeze. Aizawa spreads his legs, muscles bunching under his loose slacks. It's lewd, it's obvious. Aizawa rolls out calm confidence, tantalizing what should be forbidden due to their previous ties; he was Katsuki’s teacher. He is Izuku's boss.

Not that Izuku is a paragon of best behaviour. He grabs Katsuki’s hand, clinging to him as he catches sight of Aizawa's bulge. 

"What is happening," Izuku whisper-squeaks, "what is going on?"

"Keep up, Deku." Katsuki mumbles back. "Aizawa is trying to encourage me to behave."

Yes, and he is using the carrot and not the stick. Though seeing Aizawa casually on display makes Bakugou crave a whole lot more than simple flirting. 

"Is Bakugou behaving right now, Midoriya?"

Izuku tears his eyes off Aizawa's body, side-eyeing Katsuki instead like he can't believe this is real life. "... I mean, he's not the worst."

"Shut it, Izuku."

"He is a troublesome nuisance. A sloppy drunk caring only about his own entertainment when he should be at home healing. I had hoped Midoriya's standards would be higher than this. Be that as it may, Bakugou needs to make better choices."

Izuku chuckles hesitantly. "Kacchan is trying his best."

"You indulge him too much. Ask him if he thinks he is trying his best, or if he is playing games."

"I'm plenty motivated," Katsuki takes his drink and sips on it, swallowing the alcohol and enjoying the burn on the way down. "I got my ambitions. You speaking in riddles is annoying."

"Bakugou's been trying to fuck you," Aizawa says to Izuku, sharp and honest. "He was obvious as a teenager, and is growing worse. Put us all out of our misery and let him suck your cock if you're going to debase yourself by letting this count as his best."

"Wh-what?! I - we, wha - Aizawa, you lost me, ha ha." Izuku flails and steals back Katsuki’s drink to chug one long desperate gulp. "You're talking nonsense. There is some misunderstandings here, Kacchan didn't set this up as a date! We are just out for drinks and food and socialization. He doesn't want to- to have sex with us, or or at least he doesn't want to have sex with me."

Katsuki scrunches up his nose and gestures to Aizawa's unimpressed face. "See what I have to put up with! Izuku, you are an idiot. Fucking hell, of course I want to fuck you! And, yeah, I thought I'd shoot my shot with Aizawa too."

"Oh god, Kacchan. He used to be our teacher!"

"I've fucked worse." Katsuki lets slip before he flinches at the way Izuku rounds on him, mouth aghast.

"Tch," Aizawa shakes his head. "I had hoped those rumors were exaggerated."

Izuku stares. "Who was it?"

Wincing, Katsuki shrugs. "Doesn’t matter."

Aizawa takes a sip of his tea. "Midoriya would've happily warmed your bed if you spoke up properly. You invited me out here for a reason. All you do is flex your muscles, flutter your eyelashes and misbehave hoping for a sliver of attention. I've been around the sun a few times, I know when young cocky kids grow up and want to fuck me. But I'm not so easy."

Katsuki can't help but roll his shoulders back. "Easy? Who wants easy?"

"Kacchan... should I go?" Izuku implores Katsuki. The happiness from before melts away, and Katsuki remembers abruptly what is at stake outside his cock.

"Don't," Katsuki snaps, snagging Izuku's wrist. "Fuck, don't go. Aizawa is talking shit, he's taken too many hits to the head. I'll keep my hands to myself. That's what you want, Aizawa, will that make you drop this?"

"I want you to behave," Aizawa sighs. "That doesn't mean smothering your desires. It means speaking up, using your words."

"Do you really want to have sex with Aizawa?" asks Izuku.

"Like you've never thought about it, nerd." Katsuki shrugs again helplessly. "I mean, yeah. But I - fuck, there's a lot of shit in life that I want that I don't expect I'll get. This was supposed to be a bit of fun tonight."

Izuku bites his lip, no longer looking at Katsuki or Aizawa. "He is my boss, Kacchan."

"I don't care if you want to fuck me. We are all adults. To borrow Bakugou's words, I've fucked worse."

Katsuki cackles despite himself. "Ha, knew it."

Izuku blushes some more. "Oh god. This is embarrassing."

"It's fine," Katsuki tugs Izuku pointedly by the wrist. "It's me and Aizawa. The booth is private. No one's judging your pervy thoughts. You gotta know that I'm thinking worst than you."

"Unlikely," Izuku mutters, "and you are drunk."

"Not that drunk. If I was really drunk, my shirt would be on the floor and no one would have a mouth free to bother with all this yapping."

"You're the one who won't stop talking!" Izuku tackles Katsuki, his hand crushing Katsuki’s lips. The full weight of him lays on top, surrounding Katsuki. The nerd isn't lying, he hasn't slacked off at school. Katsuki can feel the heft of him, almost taste his strength. 

"You are giving in again, Midoriya. You've rewarded him for his bad behaviour by providing attention."

Izuku shoots up off Katsuki, immediately listening. "Sorry, sorry!"

"I accept your apology. And I do not expect one from Bakugou at this point. However, I must make a few things clear. Bakugou, you are smart and capable. Right now I am willing to entertain what ever this is. Midoriya certainly needs guidance on how to handle you, and the last thing I want is either of you getting hurt. But you are a walking disaster, and I don’t fuck around with badly behaved brats."

Katsuki bristles. There's a catch, a trap. Aizawa is a bastard, he doesn't just do things. There has to be a logic behind it. "What do you want? Me to mind my manners, say please and thank you? Crawl on my knees and serve you?"

Izuku turns shifty eyed, suspiciously quiet.

"It should be clear what I want," Aizawa's dark amusement bleeds through. "Be good, Bakugou. Curb the impluse to poke and prod and escalate. This reservation is for another hour, correct? Everytime you needle me or Midoriya, I leave ten minutes earlier. You cannot gain those minutes back."

Be good? Vague, too vague. Good is an abstract concept, Katsuki has no way to know if or when or how his behaviour will overstep. Spine straightening, the urge to say yes, to agree to the impossible floods Katsuki’s brain and his focus narrows like it does before battle to concentrate on the immovable object that is Aizawa's authority.

"... and what about sex, Aizawa-sensei?" Izuku asks, his head bowed and face mostly hidden. "Is that on the table for real?"

"It is."

Katsuki shivers, Aizawa's acceptance lingering in the air. Izuku glups audibly and then does what he always does, recalibrating in real time to the shifting situation, the lust tangible and heady in the private booth. Izuku looks to Katsuki and nods, the rosy cheeks contrasted with his full attention on Katsuki.

Do or die.

Katsuki nods back. "Yeah, I'll be good."

Aizawa's expression doesn't turn smug or mean or anything expected. He nods thoughtfully and pushes a plate of food to their side of the table. "You haven't eaten enough."

It's as good as an order. Katsuki’s chopsticks take a second to settle from the minuet tremors in his hand before Katsuki plucks up the tempura and pops it into his mouth. Chewing, Katsuki grabs another piece and serves it to Izuku. Izuku glances between the offering and Katsuki's face, and takes the bite. The next piece goes to Izuku first, Katsuki not even realizing he skipped himself until Aizawa clears his throat and nods pointedly to the plate.

Licking his teeth, Katsuki chooses the most delicious looking tempura, the one with a perfectly even crisped batter, and lifts it up across the table to Aizawa. The chopsticks hover, the air thick and heavy, and Aizawa leans in. He grabs Katsuki’s wrist tightly, possessively, pins him there over the table.

Aizawa eats, teeth piercing the piece in a sly delicate fashion.

Katsuki drops into hot fire. There’s a weird, warm feeling in his belly that is both uncomfortable and…not. Cooking for his friends and family is something Katsuki enjoys, because he likes good food, and he might as well share it. Never has he given a thought to doing more that shoving plates in other's faces. He isn't sure why feeding Aizawa from his chopsticks feels more intense. The food isn't sexy, crumbs messy on the table isn't sexual, has never been sexual.

"You don't have to baby me," Izuku murmurs as Katsuki guides the beer towards Izuku's lips. 

Katsuki bites his lips and averts his eyes to avoid glaring. There has to be some other reason for why his cock throbs. Katsuki’s head spins in circles, too overwhelmed to examine the new impluse to serve.

"I know. Shut up, I'm trying this shit out. Oi, it's fine if I swear, right?"

"If you stop, I'll assume you've been replaced by a pod person."

Izuku snorts. "Yes, same. And I mean it, Kacchan. I'm okay. I can feed myself and hold my own drink." Izuku takes the beer from Katsuki and smiles. "Relax."

Tension peaks. "Hah?! The fuck am I supposed to do to show Aizawa I'm good if I'm slacking?! He's gonna go!"

"That’s not - okay, Kacchan, okay!"

"Stop." Aizawa raises a hand. "Enough. Don't lose control."

Katsuki releases a breath, cursing.

Aizawa stays. He doesn't look at the clock, his gaze even. "Sitting in the booth you earned, eating the food you bought is not slacking. But actions speak loudly to you, so of course you immediately went to what you can do to act good for us. I appreciate the thought."

"Does Kacchan need to do anything?" Izuku leans into Katsuki’s shoulder, ears red. "It's enough for him just to, you know, not cause a scene."

"That is an idea," Aizawa says. "Let's make it better. Bakugou, go under the table."

Katsuki’s cock twitches, his hips jerking up without his say so. The involuntary reaction is masked by Izuku's flailing arms, both of their faces red to the tips of their ears. 

"Under the table?!"

Aizawa smiles. "Yes. Trust me."

"Are you going to order me to suck your cock? Here in the restaurant? Kinky fucker."

Aizawa lifts an eyebrow. "Don't insult me. That's ten minutes knocked off my time here. And if your mind goes to sucking cock, that is none of my concern. I simply suggested you kneel for us."

Katsuki’s eyebrow twitches, failure curdling the meal in his stomach. No, he isn't going to let this stand.

Izuku lets out a squeak as Katsuki drops, his knees hitting the floor and his hair brushing the underside of the table. The barrier to the private booth is solid, the staff can't see in and will only come by when signalled,  but one wrong move and their world could be exposed.

It's thrilling, a little. The risk of it. How Katsuki is doing this to prove to Aizawa that he can listen, that he will do humiliating rituals to appease them. 

Darkness shadows him. The space is cramped, Izuku at his back and Aizawa in front. Both men shift their legs to make room, Aizawa smooth and slow, Izuku apologizing as he knees Katsuki’s spine in his haste. Katsuki takes a stifled breath in, his throat tightening and eyes shuddering shut at the warm cocoon of legs surrounding him, suppressive heat immediately mushing his higher thoughts into a sticky paste. His hands hover at his sides, unsure of where to rest. Izuku's ankle is in reach, and Katsuki clings to his hem like a tether, sure he will float away if he isn't careful. 

Aizawa slides in, slides his legs deeper into the space under the table. His hand sits on his thigh and two fingers tap the muscle like a flag on the battlefield. Katsuki leans forward and rests his cheek against the same spot, inhaling deeply. Closing his eyes against the dark quiet of the hidden place, Katsuki melts. The table muffles the conversation above him, the thumps of drinks getting set down and plates scraping disappearing in the cotton blocking his hearing. His heart hammering is the only sound coming through clearly, an internal drumbeat. Hot exhales of air tickles the front of Aizawa's slacks, the fabric darkening under Katsuki's cheek when Katsuki is too slow to swallow back his drool.

Arousal distracts him. His cock is firm and heavy between his legs, pushing at his crotch. The sheer heat, intimacy and vulnerability of staying still and hidden, bracketed by Izuku and Aizawa, crumbles and resets the bones of Katsuki’s sternum. He meant to go under the table to suck Aizawa's cock, to make him shut up and stay and pay attention to Katsuki, but Katsuki tetters on the edge of an idea, an option he can't comprehend. 

He wants to suck Aizawa's cock. He wants to turn around and suck Izuku's too. Katsuki is an amazing cocksucker, he will blow their minds, he will make them come and come and come again and again. Mouthwatering in desire, Katsuki nuzzles Aizawa's thigh.

Got to be good. Be patient. Quiet. Not cause a scene.

Izuku's foot taps Katsuki's hip. Katsuki holds his ankle and brings the leg up, dangling it over his shoulder so Izuku can pin him down and keep him. Izuku has a front row connection to when Katsuki leans forward and unzips Aizawa's pants.

Dark hair thickens on the soft skin of Aizawa's lower stomach, a treasure trail that leads to a nest of curling pubic hair. A heady scent, a musk unique to Aizawa fills Katsuki's nose and makes him huff like an addict. Reaching into Aizawa's underwear, Katsuki gently cups the half-stiff shaft and releases the cock out into the open. The darkness under the table doesn't hide the shape and girth of Aizawa's cock, his foreskin plump and slowly receding.

Katsuki's brain stops, lust taking the driver's seat His moan comes out before his lips touch the silky-smooth skin, his face falling forward to greedily lap at Aizawa's cock. Tongue working, Katsuki licks up and down and around, desperately tasting the salt and sweetness. Katsuki noses up, face dragging dirty along the shaft. Pre-cum slicks the way as Katsuki tilts his chin and catches the tip in his mouth. Hollowing his cheeks, Katsuki suckles gently until Aizawa's cock is rock hard and leaking on his tongue. Flavour erupts, the undeniably enjoyable taste of skin triggering another decadent moan from between Katsuki’s full lips.

He goes to bob his head, eager to shove himself down and take the cock deep inside until he chokes and gags and can't breathe,  but nails on his scalp bring him to a sudden stop. Fingers clutch his hair, pulling painfully at the short spikes. Katsuki makes a noise, his tongue lapping indirectly at the cock muffling his vocal confusion, but the hand is relentless. Aizawa holds Katsuki there at that depth, no deeper, no shallower, the perfect position for pre-cum to slick his mouth without teasing the gag reflex. A second hand cups the back of Katsuki’s neck, soothing his nerves with a gentle stroke.

Clarity is a foreign concept when dick is in his mouth, but the silent request cuts through the fog.

This, and no further.

Katsuki softens his tongue, opens his mouth as wide as possible while the cock rests in his warm, wet, good mouth.

Aizawa's cock. Aizawa's hands. Izuku's got his back. No one is intruding. Katsuki’s knees are numb. His lips sore and stretched, drool dripping from the growing slackness of unmaintained tension. The dull throbbing of his cock is far away. Nothing hurts, he is exactly where he needs to be.

Katsuki loses track of time, or time loses him. Details don't matter. 

"Kacchan," Izuku calls out, sounding through the hazy distance. Izuku's legs lift up to give Katsuki space, unlatching Katsuki from his warm attentionm The hand that had held him brutally rests like a benediction in his hair, and doesn't prevent Katsuki searching for Izuku in the dark. There he is, face peeking under the table edge, Izuku's eyes crinkling kindly, his smile as familiar as the sun. "Wow. Okay. I need you back up here with me, the bill for the meal is ready."

Katsuki pouts, suckling the cock poking his cheek. He doesn't wanna go. It's nice. He can stay here forever, thank you very much. Fuck having to pay - the owner knows him, it's fine, Katsuki can rent out the whole restaurant till the end of time as long as no one tries to get him off Aizawa's cock.

Izuku looks strangely amused, indulgent. "You have to come up for air sometime. Plus, wouldn't you rather continue this in your own bed?"

That perks up Katsuki’s ears. Reluctantly, he draws himself off Aizawa's cock, sucking hard to get any remaining taste into his mouth. Aizawa curses, his hips jumping, and fuck, Katsuki wants to get more of that, but Izuku is faster, his hands diving under the table and bodily lifting Katsuki up into the harsh artificial lights of the booth.

Katsuki bites back a whine, flinching as coldness seeps in, goosebumps rising on his arms and neck. "No!"

"Sorry," any fear Katsuki had about Izuku's physical fitness disappears, Izuku obviously stays in shape going by how he pulls Katsuki into his lap without strain. A hand guides Katsuki to Izuku's shoulder where Katsuki burries his face gratefully. "It's only for a few minutes. We will get out of here quickly, I promise. Get Kacchan home and warm and safe."

Katsuki has to smack his numb lips a few times before he can form words. "... together? Aizawa too?"

"Yeah, Kacchan. Aizawa is, um, definitely happy to hang out with us for a little longer. In somewhere private."

"My place," Katsuki announces. Izuku agrees, soft and calm, and Katsuki is left to marinate on Izuku's lap.

Luckily, the owner has seen Katsuki a lot drunker, and definitely more pathetic than this, and hardly blinks an eye at the state of a grown hero plastered to Deku's front. The cab ride is forgettable, Katsuki using a quiet and steady Aizawa as a living pillow for that trip while Izuku deals with the logistics.

Then, he is home, sandwiched between Izuku and Aizawa, brain running at half percent, a gnawing need to be nestled to Aizawa's and Izuku's skin more important than silly concerns about how and why and where has the time gone. It dawns on Katsuki as he is lead through the landing and down his own hall that Izuku and Aizawa have a motive and purpose to their steps. A coordination that wasn't there before, Izuku confident and not asking Katsuki anything, not seeking assurance.

Aizawa must have said something, taught something when Katsuki was preoccupied warming his cock. How fucking exciting. Katsuki finds he doesn't care. What they want from him, he will give. He behaved in the restaurant, that is why Aizawa is taking off his shoes in Katsuki’s home. Katsuki is winning, easily. He's got this. He is going to keep getting it, he is going to get everything he wants and more, though what he wants is fuzzy, he will know he has it when Aizawa and Izuku give it to him.

"Strip and get on top of the bed," Izuku orders. The usual bristle starts to build in the base of Katsuki’s skull, instinctive rage dampened by Aizawa's raised eyebrow and expecting stare. 

Naked, Katsuki crawls. Izuku didn't say how he wanted Katsuki to be on the bed, so Katsuki takes matters into his own hands. Ass pointed in their directionll, his hips tilt tantalizingly, arching his spine to a perfect curve. Pillowing his cheek on his folded arms, Katsuki flexes to his thighs. Pert ass up for the taking, Katsuki grins smugly at Izuku's dazed face.

"Spread those thighs wider and get up on to your toes." Aizawa cuts in. Casually nude, Aizawa's cock stands up tall, his imposing stance commanding.

Katsuki swallows, cock hard enough to pound nails.

The change in position is hardly a bother, though it means his cock and balls show through the gap in his legs, the stretch a piece to concentrate on. He isn't sure how cute his ass looks now, muscles tensing to hold the modified downward dog, but Katsuki tries to keep it pushed out.

"Adjust here, here and here." 

Each word is accompanied by a tap of Aizawa's dry fingers. His hip, his neck, the left leg. Katsuki listens, and does as Aizawa instructs, again and again until an approaching satisfaction starts to creep in Aizawa's tone.

A second set of hands cup Katsuki’s ass followed by wet thick fingers on his hole. Izuku lathers him up, lube smearing slick on his crack and dripping over his taint. 

"I'm going to stretch you, Kacchan." Izuku mumbles, the mattress squeaking as he settles between Katsuki’s spread and open legs. "Hold the position sensei put you in, okay? You're doing great."

"Careful with the praise, Midoriya. He has to feel like he earned it for your words to work correctly."

Izuku says something in reply that gets lost in translation, Katsuki’s body reacting to a sudden lash of white-hot pain, muscles turning rigid when Izuku unceremoniously shoves multiple fingers in deep and fast. The moan is more of a shout, Katsuki not ready for the burn to come on so strong.

"Fucking Deku, you idiot! That hurts!"

Katsuki squeezes Izuku's intruding fingers, hole stinging, and cries when Izuku hastily pulls out at the same time as Aizawa's punishing palm spanks hard on his ass cheek.

"The fuck -"

"Sorry, sorry!!"

Aizawa silences both of them with a hard, stern look. Katsuki bites his tongue and smothers the whining wanting to complain at his hurting ass.

"First things first," Aizawa starts after a second or two of quiet wincing. "Bakugou. If something hurts or feels wrong, the correct response is not to insult -"

"Deku ain't an insult anymore -" Katsuki interrupts, offended. "I can call him his hero name, can't I?"

Aizawa lays his palm threatening on Katsuki’s ass. "You called him an idiot."

Squirming, Katsuki flushes. "It hurt."

"I know," Aizawa speaks over Izuku's apology, quelling him with an added harsh glare that makes Katsuki preen. "We will address that in a second. However, if anyone needs a break for whatever reason, a simple stop will suffice. Understand?"

"Sure, sensei. I'll yell out stop next time someone rams in like that, and try not to call them out on their dumbassary."

The second spank is less of a surprise. It helps that Katsuki can feel it for what it is; a light warning tap.

"Watch the attitude."

Izuku wrings his hands. "It's my fault. I - I didn't do it right. Don't be mad at Kacchan."

Katsuki has a weird feeling, the instinctive knowledge he has of Izuku rearing its ugly head. "Oh fuck," Katsuki breaks the position, rolling over and narrowly avoiding kicking Aizawa in the face, his heart hammering at the realization. "Holy shit. Izuku, are you a virgin?"

Izuku awkwardly picks at a loose thread on Katsuki’s bedding, not making eye contact. "No!! I've had sex. Um. Just. With girls."

Aizawa sighs and rubs his head. "Christ. Did you finger the poor girl like that too?"

"No! No, I mean, I don't think so, she didn't complain, never said it hurt, but, um, we never did, I mean, we never had anal -"

"Izuku," Katsuki grins, affection bubbling up inside and spilling free, laughter on his lips. "You are such a nerd." 

Katsuki grabs Izuku by the nape and bangs their foreheads together, hard, and it makes sense to turn their faces and let their lips slot in a kiss. Izuku tastes like Katsuki’s beer, and the taste lands a hit to Katsuki's gut that incentivizes him to kiss harder, tongues licking past lips and into roving mouths. The pain in his ass is forgiven. How can Katsuki be pissed off when Izuku is Izuku, when he barrels ahead without stopping or thinking, just blind ambition and no restraint.

Izuku melts into the kiss, his embarrassment retreating the longer Katsuki sucks on his lower lip. "Kacchan, I wanna try again. I want to do it right."

"You have a lot to learn. Why don't I show you how it's done," Aizawa says, and steals Katsuki from Izuku's mouth. 

Oh.

Aizawa kisses like he teaches. Brutal, strict, his teeth and tongue working to find Katsuki’s weaknesses. Aizawa's five o'clock shadow rubs Katsuki's sensitive upper lip, their mouths searingly hot as Aizawa sticks his tongue in just enough to tease, to flicker and retreat, Katsuki chasing him and being firmly redirected under Aizawa's control, kissing until Katsuki groans, hiccuping. "Ah! Sensei -"

"On your knees again for us, Bakugou." Aizawa pretends to ask but he takes Katsuki by the shoulders and turns him before Katsuki recovers. "More lube, Midoriya. Wet is best, forgiving to any mistakes your eagerness may cause. Otherwise we risk real injury to the delicate flesh."

Katsuki hides his face, trusting Aizawa when his cheeks are pulled open, hole exposed and flesh squeezed to the side. The air is cold on his hole, the previous lube slowly drying the longer it stays untouched on his skin.

He isn't left panting for long. Fingers circle his smarting rim, gentle pressure on the outside sending tingles up his spine and leaving his cock dripping. One finger, a single tip teases the hole itself, easing in slowly, so shallow in the tight furl before going back to circling the rim. The pattern repeats, a finger returning. Katsuki realizes with a jolt that the fingers are different, Aizawa showcasing how to ruin Katsuki and allowing Izuku to copy his actions, forced to play with the outside of his hole until Aizawa is satisfied to start the next step.

Sweet tender torture. Katsuki suffers through it, the urge to weep and beg increasing by the minute. He'd take the pain of going in dry at this point, the supple pleasure on the edge of too good, too hedonistic.

"Look at his rim," Aizawa instructs, cool as a cucumber while stroking Katsuki to pieces. "The natural tension is ebbing away. It is still a tiny tight hole though. We have to go inside, slowly, train the rim to accept various thicknesses until your cock can fill it. Watch how I start with one up to the first knuckle," and he does, fuck, Aizawa's finger slids in, "the second finger will be the true stretch at this point, but you can tell by how Bakugou's ass squeezes that he is ready for it."

"Ah!" Katsuki moans, knees dragging in the sheets as Aizawa sinks in a second finger, palm warm and hot.

Izuku moans in turn as he watches Katsuki get fingered, reverently calling his name. His hand, it has to be his hand, gropes Katsuki’s ass cheek, hard, palm sweaty and trembling, and satisfaction pools deep behind Katsuki’s sternum.

"My fingers are long," Aizawa keeps going, curling and prodding Katsuki’s prostate, obliterating higher thoughts. "You may not find this pleasure spot right away, but if you go like this," Aizawa twists his wrists, fingers stretched deep and pressure hard, "Bakugou will feel it."

A wail shudders out of him, lust and arousal and pleasure hammering his nerves. Aizawa twists and fucks and touches the inside of Katsuki’s body until the wail tapers off into high whimpers, Katsuki ready, so fucking ready for a cock.

The fingers pull free. 

"Your turn, Midoriya."

Katsuki sobs.

"Oh, Kacchan... can I praise him now, sensei? Please?"

A sigh. "If you must."

Izuku pets his flank. "Kacchan is so strong. So patient with me as Aizawa teaches me. It must be hard to have to wait, but I'm going to make you feel amazing, I promise. Aizawa is going to help me, and Kacchan is going to get everything he deserves."

Izuku's fingers take the same path carved by Aizawa. One, two, and Katsuki tries to fuck back on them. They are thick, Katsuki mapping them in his minds' eye, fantasizing how the crooked knobs and scars of Izuku's fingers compare to reality sinking into Katsuki’s ass. The strokes are tentative, exploring Katsuki’s walls, searching for something unseen, but Katsuki loves it anyways, loves being full of Izuku's touch and affection.

"Sensei," Izuku asks without asking. 

"Follow along, Midoriya."

The pressure in his rim increases. Another finger joins the cramped space, Katsuki’s hole wet and wanting and unable to provide any resistance as Aizawa sticks a finger in alongside Izuku's. Molten metal encases Katsuki’s core, his limbs tensing in anticipation. 

Together the two men behind him, in him, find and stroke the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

Izuku cheers, a happy noise, and Aizawa praises Izuku, fucks Katsuki’s hole with their fingers and tells Izuku that he has done well, that he is making Katsuki’s hole wonderfully relaxed.

Katsuki gasps, shivers, and comes, Aizawa's words a waterfall. The orgasm hits like a surprise, Katsuki’s back bowing and cock twitching untouched between his legs. Aizawa gentles him through the waves, his fingertip a steady presence inside while Izuku curses, shuddering himself as he clamps his free hand on Katsuki’s thigh, bruising the skin. The fingers inside stretch instinctively against the pulsing, squeezing of Katsuki’s hole. 

"Nice," Aizawa says after a moment. 

Prickled pleased, Katsuki can only drool and nod. "Uh huh."

There is a lewd squelch while Aizawa removes his and Izuku's fingers. Katsuki’s stretched hole mouths at air, achingly empty.

"As far as positions go," Aizawa continues to speak as if the world isn't turned inside out like Katsuki’s brain. "How would you prefer to fuck Bakugou, Midoriya?"

"I ah, I want it whatever way Kacchan wants it."

Aizawa hums thoughtfully. "Bakugou, do you have a preference?"

Katsuki gurgles dumbly. No, he doesn't care what or how. Only that it happens, that he gets Izuku and Aizawa. "Both," he manages to spit out, "both."

"That can be arranged. Midoriya, get under him."

Izuku's skin on Katsuki’s skin brands him, the hot flesh burning. Chest to chest, Izuku holds Katsuki up by his waist, supporting him and lifting him up so their faces can nuzzle, kiss. Katsuki rests in Izuku's arms and lets himself be pliant, lets Aizawa and Izuku align his legs a certain way until he is straddling Izuku properly, knees clamped to Izuku’s sides, toes digging on the outside of firm thighs. The wet blunt tip of Izuku's cock nudges Katsuki’s well prepared hole, and a final guide of Aizawa's hand sinks him down, down, down. Like butter, Katsuki melts, his body accepting Izuku's cock willingly.

Izuku gasps into Katsuki’s mouth, and Katsuki swallows his pleasure. Izuku's cock rubs his insides, a firm intrusion rearranging Katsuki cell by cell. Katsuki relaxes into the pressure, his hole greedy and hungry for all of Izuku. His cock brushes Izuku's stomach and his thighs clamp on Izuku's hips, and inch after agonizing inch is conquered, a conquest completed, Izuku balls deep inside Katsuki.

"Oh, fuck," Izuku tosses his head back, his throat one long line of tension for Katsuki to bite as his hips swivel on top. "Hot, Kacchan is so hot inside."

"Is he too tight?"

"No, no - perfect. Kacchan's ass is perfect."

Katsuki hides his pleased expression by sucking on Izuku's ear. Izuku fills him up nicely, each twist of Katsuki’s hips grinding him against the deep spots inside. The rolling of their bodies intensifies, Izuku groaning and panting, his attempts to fuck up into Katsuki’s thwarted by Katsuki’s refusal to leave his perch. Katsuki pins Izuku with his weight and takes what he needs, searching for the best angle and pace for his needs. Not that Katsuki is being selfish, Izuku's definitely into the friction going by his high-pitched pleased noises.

"Mhm, Izuku. Going to make myself come on your cock," Katsuki moans, and his breath stutters out, escaping in a surprised hiss when solid warmth presses unerringly on the straining flesh of his stuffed full rim.

"Tut tut," Aizawa's hair caresses Katsuki’s shoulder as the man plants himself over his back, the body-warmed air condensing until Katsuki is crushed between two bodies. "Coming without me would not be a wise choice. Oversensitivity might make you cry."

"Ah, don't you like it when we cry?" asks Izuku. 

Katsuki freezes at the dual sensations of Aizawa rubbing outside of where Izuku's already occupying, and the sharp bite of Aizawa's teeth latching onto his shoulder. He cries out, hips jerking, and proves Izuku's point when Aizawa's lips turn up into a smile that burns through Katsuki’s flesh like a brand. "He does like it," Katsuki chokes out. "Oh, oh, gods."

"You two were always some of the smartest of my students. I'm not surprised you realized. Don't worry, I'll be fair."

Aizawa bullies his finger in, the tip hooking on the rim and lewdly tugging until a a second finger squeezes painfully past the paltry resistance. With Izuku's cock there, the space is limited. Katsuki shudders, head bowed, chin to chest and hands tearing through the sheets. The touch is wet which is a brief relief to the obscene give of his hole, the ache growing and growing when Aizawa begins a steady finger fuck to complement Izuku's unmoving cock, stroking Katsuki’s hole and Izuku's cook with it.

"That’s, ah, Kacchan, Kacchan- you're so tight now. Never felt anything like this before, sensei, your fingers, they're-" Izuku cuts himself off with a cry as Aizawa stuffs his thumb in too, the webbing and two fingers properly jerking Izuku off inside of Katsuki’s until the knob of Aizawa's wrists threatens to join.

It hurts. Katsuki’s never wants it to stop. The bedroom falls out of sight, Katsuki’s world narrowing on the flesh in him, the flesh he is made up of and made to be greater. 

"There we are," Aizawa croons kind in Katsuki’s ears, pride and joy lancing Katsuki’s wounds. "Half my hand and all of Midoriya's cock are inside of you, Bakugou. I can't explain how impressive that is. You are doing amazing. I can fuck you like this for hours, for days. Keep you sweet on my fingers."

"Please," Katsuki chokes out, tears and snot and drool leaking everywhere, the scent of sex soaking the air. "I've been good, haven't I? Please, sensei, please."

"You've been so good," Izuku rushes to reassure, and Katsuki moans.

"Yes, I agree. And good boys get what they want."

The hand lingers, wet and warm, and retreats in a slow drag. Katsuki has no time to mourn the loss of pressure before something blunter and bigger and firmer kisses his rim. Aizawa's cock grinds up Katsuki’s ass crack, a dirty slide that thrusts against him and catches on his hole on the third or forth upstroke. 

"Relax," Aizawa commands. 

Katsuki tenses but it doesn't matter, his body not his, his rim too lax and worked over to care about the burning in his bones. Aizawa enters him. 

Two cocks. Hysterically, Katsuki wonders if he is dying, if he is dead. Aizawa covers his spine, hips hitching in. Izuku lays under him, body jerking in an unrestrained, uncoordinated response to Aizawa's cock fucking into the shared tight clutches of Katsuki’s poor hole.

"Ah, ah, ah," words are beyond him. Izuku's cock fucks into his prostate, the inner walls thoroughly fucked up, swollen and sensitive, obscenely stretched. 

Izuku is in no better state, his hands crushing Katsuki’s waist. "Sensei, sensei - what, I'm gonna come soon, I can't hold it, I can't-"

"You can," Aizawa grunts, his pace quickening. "Midoriya, look at me. I got you. I got both of you."

"Sensei!"

Weakly, Katsuki turns his head on Izuku's chest to look. Aizawa kisses Izuku over Katsuki’s shoulder, both in him, both around him. Their pink tongues slip in and out from their panting mouths. Izuku red and straining, Aizawa's face laced with lust and pleasure. Sexy, handsome. Strong, so strong, their kissing creating a rhythm tied to their hips, the thrusting easing together so both fuck up into Katsuki’s hole in one well-oiled machine.

Katsuki submits. Closed eyes highten the pleasure, his body thrumming in the safe cocoon made of men. Twenty fingers, four palms, two cocks all touch him, own him. Tension ease from his shoulders as he breathes. It is easy to be good. To take it. The pressure mounts, lights flickering behind his eyelids, nerves ablaze. Lightheaded, Katsuki can't breath properly, his lungs refusing to work, not expanding, letting the cocks have all the room with nothing left for fresh air. 

When he comes, a soft sigh comes with the mess of hot fluid. Loose, limps askew, sweat sticking to his hair and pooling behind his knees, in the space where his chest rubs against Izuku, the orgasm is serene and calm and wonderous. The highest of highs, his hole pulsating weakly and relief coursing through his cock, his balls and muscles and to his teeth, his toes splayed and limp. Katsuki sighs again, sighs and quiets, mushed up and buttery soft.

The pleasure doesn't go. Aizawa is in him, Izuku is in him. Izuku makes little hurt noises, louder and louder, his heartbeat a metronome Katsuki can feel cock to hole to chest. Aizawa's grunts of effort tingle, a sound Katsuki wants imprinted in his head forevermore. 

They come one after another. Izuku in a shocked grunt of power, cum searing deep. Aizawa buries his cock in, cums on top of Izuku's dick and pulls out, letting the mess spill and ruin the sheets in a puddle of filth. Izuku slips out once the plug from Aizawa's length is removed, Katsuki soft and open and unable to twitch his rim shut.

"Sensei -"

"Hush, Midoriya. Here, roll him into my arms. Do you know where the towels and bowls are kept, or fresh linens?"

Katsuki smacks his lips as he is lifted, cum leaking on his inner thighs. Aizawa's scent is thick and Katsuki opens his mouth to kitten lick up the salt from his neck. A soft hand runs through his hair. Cradled close, Katsuki leans fully on Aizawa, stealing his warmth. Dozing, Katsuki vaguely clocks them cleaning him, the wet cloth carefully washing his ruined hole. The bedding is stripped and tossed aside, fresh sheets wrapping around him.

"Don't go," Katsuki mumbles, knowing sleep is biting at his heels. Wakefulness is a losing game.

"Unlike you, we are not on vacation," Aizawa says. The rejection is tempered by the audible clunk and removal of Aizawa's prosthetics. "My alarm is set for 5:30 AM, as a far warning."

Izuku makes a noise of dismay, yet the bed shifts with his weight. "So early!"

"Not everyone sleeps away productive time," Katsuki yawns, rolling on to his stomach. Oh, there's the pain in his hips and ass now. "Fuck, I'm going to be sore."

Someone massages his lower back under the covers. "A bath and painkillers would help now."

"I'm not getting up, are you crazy? Just come here and sleep."

"Sleep," sighs Aizawa fondly. "Yes, please."

The light in the room switches off, and Katsuki is happy for the California King bed allowing him to be bracketed by the two men who are cause for his sated state.

Still. One final item needs to be settled before Katsuki lets his mushy brain sink into slumber. He got fucked five ways from Sunday, and there are thick arms and thighs thrown over his body, Izuku kissing his nape and Aizawa loyal at his side, but confidence like Katsuki’s is a poison, a pot never full. 

Face smushed into the pillow, Katsuki lets a thin thread of his neediness free. "... was it good?"

Two sets of hands spasm on his skin. 

"Kacchan, of course it was good." Izuku peppers kisses wherever his mouth can reach, lips hot and reverent.

Aizawa huffs, and grabs Katsuki by the chin. His stare is wise, seeing right through Katsuki’s anxiety. "You are brilliant," Aizawa says. "Better than good. Keep it up, and I might fuck you again."

Swish, nothing but net. 

Katsuki got exactly what he wants.