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 “Welcome to Ultra’s Tasty Sandwiches,” droned Katsuki in a black forest ham sandwich suit with lettuce, tomato, and his dignity; this was also the start of his maybe career as a mass murderer because everyone from his college decided to visit the super mall after the news flooded the halls.

Katsuki Bakugou; the campus declared  d-bag, self-proclaimed master of the universe; academically acclaimed A-minus student; sexually announced beast in the sheets; the guy your momma warned ya about; star quarterback to U.A.’s football team; former head of the anime club—until a waifu war docked Katsuki from the club, worked at Ultra’s Tasty Sandwiches. Specifically as the mascot sandwich.  “Our sandwiches are the best. They’re…” he sighed, “They’re ultra-delicious.”

Denki and Hanta crumpled. “Oh my god.”

“…Get the fuck outta here, I’m trying to work, assholes.”

“So the legends are true,” Mina said, rolling idly on her skateboard. “You are the new sandwich man!”

Eijirou went down on one knee, and put his hands together in prayer. “I would like to issue my proposal to you right now, sandwich man. Too long have we played this game. Too long have I had you in my mouth but not in my heart, in my bed, in my soul. Would you do me the great honor and make me your sandwich wife?”

Katsuki had to make full complete turns to see around and behind himself so he did a complete rotation and caught the back of his manager’s head heading to the back of the kitchen, and brought a thousand furies upon Eijirou’s head with the thick stack of pamphlets he was given to pass to customers.

Eijirou laughed, standing up. “Dude, I’m sorry. C’mon.”

“I’m gonna lose my fucking job because you dickbags—hello sir, would you like a coupon, yea, you have an amazing day too!”

The group looked chilled by Katsuki’s not so seamless performance from begrudging employee to the beaming sales sandwich. “Wow,” Denki said, “That’s legitimately unsettling. Never do that again.”

Hanta rubbed his arms. “I have goosebumps, dude.”

“It’s called a fucking job! But you losers wouldn’t know jack shit about getting one or keeping it.”

Mina stomped on one end of her skateboard and grabbed it on the flip. “Why you gotta bring up that time from Baskin Robbins? I told you I only ate the whole ice cream container because of that weed brownie Tsuyu got me.”

“I meant Hanta.”

“Look no one said you couldn’t grope the mannequins at Kohls. I am a child and you expect me to dress naked mannequins and not be inappropriate with their bodies. Sorry but that’s like not singing the words to ‘Bye, Bye, Bye’.”

“Ha; I got no bad record,” announced Denki proudly.

Katsuki sneered. “You need to get a job to have one, dipshit.”

“But no bad references. Except my mom.”

Eijirou embraced him, patted his back in sympathy. “It’s gonna be okay, man. We’re gonna get you a job this year.”

Mina rocked on her heels. “Eijirou’s the one person with zero complaints.”

“I take pride in everything I do. Customer satisfaction is my primary concern.”

“Fucking lame,” said Katsuki.

Shouto sucked on his Starbucks with no judgment but that was the trick to him, to come across as a blank sheet. He could see behind his stoic face to the judgment underneath “Well, this is interesting”

Here were the few things you needed to ever know about Shouto Todoroki, and there weren’t many of them because Katsuki was the main character here and he wouldn’t share his spotlight with U.A.’s heartthrob. Here was the thing—he up showed Katsuki in academics, had mismatched eyes, and walked around with  casual superiority as though the ninety-nine earned on their honors physic exam was just the natural state of things. He didn’t need a trust fund baby judging him who never had to work for a dime cause daddy and mommy had the cash flow for all his hearts desires. Katsuki, on the other hand, got in on a football scholarship that handled his school fees fine, but still required that he budget tightly for anything outside of school. Not everyone’s dad owned a booming company with locations in almost every state.

“Hey, fucko, pick a color.”

“So,” Shouto continued, “What kind of sandwiches do you guys offer at your esteemed establishment? Why should I pick you over Jimmy Johns? Sell me your sandwich.”

“I can’t fucking believe this,” whistled Dabi. “Katsuki Bakugou, sandwich man.”

Katsuki snarled. “How many fucking people from school are coming here?”

“Oh,” Dabi chuckled. “The whole team, bud.”

Katsuki socked Eijirou hard in the arm. “You fucking asshole.“

Eijirou massaged his bicep. “I told only Denki…and Hanta…and Mina,” he said, trying to appease Katsuki.  “Wait, who told you?” He asked Dabi.

Dabi snatched a pamphlet from Katsuki’s tensed hands, running his blue eyes over the coupons. “Minoru.”

Katsuki reframed from crumbling the pamphlets in his hands, “That shitstain.”

Shouto interrupted with a noisy suck. “So about that sandwich?”

“Go eat shit.”

Momo showed up beside Shouto, and talked animatedly in his ear about a store she wanted to check out so Katsuki was spared from further ridicule from Shouto at least for the time being.

“Oh, hey Katsuki. I didn’t know you worked here too,” Izuku said, wearing Ultra’s Tasty Sandwiches’ uniform.

Wait—Izuku worked here?

The Izuku Midoriya?

Now you’re sitting there wondering what the big old hoo-ha about this guy Izuku Midroiya. Well sit and listen well cause Katsuki didn’t speak twice.

So, Izuku was a cheerleader. He also had the most rocking ass in human history and Katsuki would fight anyone who disagreed with him on that.

He was also behind the reason why Katsuki’s uniform felt tight and uncomfortable around his dick; and he might’ve jacked his chances when he spiraled the football across the field to Dabi for the ball to sail exquisitely over Dabi’s reaching hands to crack solid on the back of Izuku’s skull as he balanced Ochako with his bare hands. Ochako planted her face hard on the grass and busted her nose, and walked around campus earning sympathy from the whole school while everyone laid into Katsuki about hurting a girl. Izuku chipped his tooth and had to surgically get it fixed and that required his mother being called and informed and him missing a few days of classes and eating liquids for a few weeks.

Katsuki might be the cause of the sudden hostile rivalry between U.A.’s football team and cheerleading squad. Lot of people thought evil couldn’t find a foothold in Izuku Mdoriya’s heart but he would fucking defer on that as Izuku knew enough evil to glare cutely across the field, to make condescending cheer chants when Katsuki fumbled on a throw, or when he got sagged hard by a guy over three hundred pounds. He believed to this day the laxatives in those brownies at the frat party were Izuku’s doing.

He saw him—cute, but sinister underneath, fine enough to make your head spin round and round like a record; and glaring at Katsuki again because Katsuki didn’t mind his eyes and didn’t care much if he got caught. Most girls liked his stare; leaned a little further so he could see the seam of their jeans press on their pussy. Izuku told him his eyes were up here. Katsuki told him he liked what was down there better.

Then appeared these brownies after the encounter then fast forward to his munchie binge; then to whine of his gut as two frat girls rubbed against him like cats; then to his mad dash to the frat bathroom where he spent the remainder of the party; sweating out his pores, face a harsh red, and butthole burning bad. Eijirou sat with him in support the entire ordeal, popping the window open and spraying Febreze in two minutes intervals, and let Katsuki distract himself with SpongeBob memes.

Izuku smiled; Katsuki understood why people warned that the devil wore a Sunday hat and fine clothes because deception worked better if no one expected it.

Not anymore. He knew Izuku’s evil ways, and his ass might be a 20 on the hotness meter but Katsuki held grudges.

“Izuku,” he sneered; he too could be evil right back.

Izuku cocked his narrow hips—hips that could go in any and every direction imaginable; sideways; lateral; up; down; right on Katsuki’s cock—Izuku did Satan’s tango and Katsuki wasn’t falling for that shit, again.. “You shouldn’t talk with your friends all day, how will the customers know about our deals?”

Low on the workplace food chain, Katsuki swallowed his comment. “Yea,” he said with a smile held open with fish hooks.

Izuku smiled at everyone else and walked inside to start his shift.

Katsuki growled. “That motherfucker. You see that? You hear him? Fucking why is he so hot and a douche. I wanna fuck him and punch him.”

“Wow, great to see weed mellow you out, bro.”

Dabi commented to no one in particular, “Day 12, his thirst knows no end. Some call it a dry storm.”

“Go bother your damn girlfriend and stop jerking me off. People are gonna think you’re gay for me,” said Katsuki.

“Heh, you wish.”






Aizawa walked on the field in a polo, basketball shorts, and black shades. The football team huddled around him, yawning, rubbing out the weekend’s bad choices from their eyes—you know, like regret, despair, dread. One time Katsuki wasn’t that part of the group, having to close the one before so he missed out on the parties this weekend. “Alright, you degenerates, sober up because we got a game in three weeks and we need to step it up. We’re not losing our title to L.A. Tech University again. Fuck those guys.”

Shindo snickered, hidden by Inasa’s tall form. “Well, now we can all tell coach and his fine piece of a woman are on the rocks. Again.”

With a chill felt by the whole team, Aizawa lifted his shades, eyes black devoid of human emotions like a hawk. “Shindo, I want twenty laps around the field. Now.”

The team laughed, cawing into their hands.

Tetsutetsu laughed, bumping elbows with Eijirou. “Damn.”

Inasa hooted, “BOY.”

“Coach, c’mon,” Shindo whined. “I was just joshing.”

Katsuki snapped his fingers. “Nah, nah, fucking go.”

Eijirou and Tetsutetsu finger waved. “Bye Felicia.”

Shindo jogged off field at a brisk pace to complete his laps. “Fuck, I’m too hungover for this.”

“Warm up, then do your drills,” said Aizawa. “We’re running mock plays. Inasa and Katsuki are opposing teams. Now get your sorry asses to work.”

“So, work with Izuku,” Dabi started as they stretched out, pulling one arm across their chest.

“So, shutting the fuck up,” Katsuki traded.

Eijirou made a sound, giddy. “Oh, someone got cucked. Again.”

“I didn’t get cucked. Fuck that guy.”

Dabi worked on his quads, and folded his long legs, grabbing the front of his foot. “I think we need to start a fundraiser.”

Eijirou touched his toes, staring at his knees. “For what?”

“Katsuki’s thirst,” he chuckled. “It’s reaching epidemic proportions. A worldwide threat.”

Eijirou laughed. “Aw, man that’s good.”

“The one threat coming for your ass is my fist.”

Aizawa surveyed the field, face pinched as he started to sweat already. “Since you all have time to converse, how about we step it up.  High knee, high knees.”

Katsuki marched his knees up to chest level.

Aizawa barked into Hanta’s ear. “I want that higher, Hanta.”

Hanta wheezed. “Yes, coach!”

Aizawa harped on his chrome whistled as he eyed Shindo’s sluggish form jogging the perimeter. “You got time to drink, then you got time for me. I want you flying. Hustle, hustle. Pretend there’s beer for you.”

After their warm-up, they went over the basic drills and started on a mock match, half the team going against the other half. Katsuki squatted behind Eijirou, calling out, “Twenty-two, twenty-two.”

“Twenty-three, twenty-three,” Eijirou snickered.

Katsuki flicked his balls since it was the closest thing he could hit.

Eijirou buckled. “Dude! My gentlemen.”

Minoru said down the line-up, “Gay!”

Inasa stood up from his position. “Hey, hey, we leave each other’s balls alone. Leave Eijirou’s.”

Romero groaned, “Let’s fucking play the game, Katsuki.”

Katsuki put his hand to his ear, “Sorry, little bitch said what?”


Hanta crackled. “Got him.”

Aizawa sighed. “Katsuki and Eijirou, stop touching each other. Do that in your dorm. Everyone else, shut the hell up and play the game. They pay me to coach, not babysit you. Start up.”

Katsuki shoot Eijirou a warning. “Don’t fucking count with me.”

“Sorry, sandwich man.”

He shoved him lightly and squatted back into position; Eijirou palmed the football between his hand and the grass, waiting on Katsuki’s call to snap back the ball. “Twenty-two, twenty-two,” Katsuki called. “Hut, hut, hut!”

Eijirou snapped back the ball to Katsuki, and charged forward  against the opposing team and held his ground against Tetsutetsu.

Katsuki slapped the leather skin to his hand and scanned the field; Dabi moved like a black shadow on the field, never keeping to one spot so anyone could hold him down. Dabi pivoted on his heel, clear  for a pass; Katsuki spiraled it in a high arch before Romero tackled him. Two other players followed the ball’s trajectory and barreled for Dabi as he hopped and caught the ball; Dabi might be leaner than twigs but he had speed and endurance to blitz across half the field if their defense carried him through the offense.

Hanta sprinted a few paces behind him and lunged, catching his chin on the grass  when Dabi junked out of the way.

Aizawa blew the whistle when Dabi reached the end zone and tossed the ball over his shoulder, too cool for school style. “First point to Katsuki’s team. Inasa, work on your defense that was crap.”

“Sorry, coach,” Inasa said; he went to Hanta to check on him and yanked him up to his feet. “You good man?”


“Line up. C’mon. The ball’s on Inasa’s.”

The team went through five more plays before Aizawa called for a water break and let the guys bench on the grass with their water bottles and their helmets tossed off to the side.

Shindo nudged Inasa and jutted his chin, playboy smile dazzling his sweaty face. “Oh, we’ve been very, very good boys today. Very good.”

Tetsutetsu started to check his armpits. “Do I smell okay?”

Eijirou sniffed him. “Like a man, dude! A sweaty man.”

Katsuki twisted the cap off his bottle and dumped the rest of the water down on his head. He slicked back his wet bangs, blinking water droplets off his lashes as he looked to what had Shindo tutting away. “What?”

The cheerleaders sprinted on to the field, a fair space off the football field to practice out in the summer sun. They’re not in uniforms—U.A.’s trademarked white and navy with exposed midriffs, and lab created jewels interwoven in the fabric, sparkling bright and dazzling like a cosmos of stars—but in whatever workout clothes that had lying around their dorms; capris, booty shorts, tank tops, sport bras; hairs tied up; faces glowing with dew as the temperature reached a sweltering 82 in the afternoon. Butts jingled; they’re guys, namely they’re football players with libidos so they’re staring at all the skin, all the meatiness of their thighs. Katsuki might hate Izuku to the core of the earth and back but he was the most delectable thing on the field—workout shorts clinging for life to his thighs and ass; t-shirt  leaving no swell and definition of him unnoticed.

“Ladies, ladies, ladies,” Shindo sauntered over. “You all look mighty sexy this morning.”

The cheerleaders’ coach, Emi—or more publicly known as Aizawa’s beauty of a wife—gave Shindo the stink eye. “No, I don’t want you distracting my girls. Piss off.”

Tetsutetsu waved awkwardly to Itsuka. “Hi!”

She smiled, fixing up her hair into a ponytail. “Hey! Working hard?”

“Yea. I smell like ass!”

Itsuka laughed, then turned to Momo.

“Why did I say that?” Tetsutetsu panicked. “Oh my god, she’ll never date me.”

Neito hummed with superiority. “That’s right, cause she’s gonna date me. My dad’s got a yacht and a private jet. You might as well give up.”

Eijirou consoled him, rubbing his meaty arms. “Don’t worry, man. If she doesn’t like you then she’s missing out. Anyway everyone hates Neito because he’s a giant tool so I wouldn’t get upset.”

Neito combed his hair back and winked for Itsuka’s benefit, getting her to scoff and flip him off in return. “All I hear is a bunch of losers who don’t have a yacht and won’t be invited to my yacht party.”

Shindo whistled at Ochako while Emi was busy talking to Camie, the captain of the team, “Looking good,” he appraised, being unapologetic about the wandering of his eyes.

She rolled her eyes at the sleazy attention. “Yea, no. So not happening, Shindo.”

“That’s cool. Just showing my appreciation. Oh, Izuku!”

Dabi smacked Katsuki. “He’s talking to your boyfriend.”

“You mean Satan? He can talk to him all he wants.”

 Shindo pointed to Izuku’s horribly thin thread t-shirt, plucking the hem between his fingers; Izuku’s flat stomach showed. “I like your shirt.”

Izuku stepped back, and lifted one leg flat to his curved spine. “Shouldn’t you be practicing?”

Jesus, that fucking flexibility.

Dabi commented, smirking at Katsuki’s lust-stricken face. “Wow. He’s like a pretzel. Can go in all shapes and directions.”

Apparently Shindo was just as impressed with Izuku’s insane range, head cocked to follow the hot angles Izuku made on the grass with his legs completely split.  “I should. With you. How about some cheers, horizontal cheers? Sexy cheers.”

Izuku popped to his feet and launched backward into four handsprings, twisted elegantly and powerfully like a pro into a few aerial cartwheels, and ended with a backward somersault. He planted on the other side, looking like he didn’t break a sweat.

Shindo was lost in a lust haze. “God, I love cheerleaders.”

Emi shooed him away. “Go, go. Alright, everyone let’s  go over the new routine. I think Camie got some smart ideas to spice it up since the football team is such a giant joke, we gotta be there to bring the crowd. Now this is what I’m thinking…”

Itsuka whispered, “I guess coach isn’t talking to her husband, again.”

Momo played with her hair. “That means longer practice for us.”

Mei thought obnoxiously. “You think it cause she ain’t getting good dick or that he ain’t going down on her?”

Camie nodded sagely. “I go down.”

Himiko said, “Girlfriend, you would go down on a statue, shut up. Remember, that’s why we can’t go to the art museum, cause you tried to eat out the statue of David’s butt.”

Camie laughed. “Oh yea. Man that made a great pic for Instagram.”

Ochako asked, “Why do you always think its sex-related, maybe it’s their finances.”

Camie, Himiko, and Mei looked at her, then snorted. “Girl.”

“It’s always sex!”

“Ochako, you go get yourself a man and talk to us whether good dick matters.”

“Or a woman,” Camie suggested, rubbing her nose.

Himiko whacked her. “Stop trying to turn straight girls.”

“I’m sorry that I’m irresistible. Ladies love me.”

Itsuka huffed, “Not everyone wants to have sex with you. I don’t want to have sex with you.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Mei giggled, “Bitch, she’s all about Tetsutetsu’s Tetsutetsu if y’all know what I saying. Whoo!”

Himiko said, “We’re having this penis talk when our token penis isn’t talking with us. Izuku.”

Izuku groaned, smiling. “I have nothing to add.”

“I would go straight for Izuku,” said Camie.

Mei said, “Everyone would go for Izuku. Look at that butt, J.Lo is jealous of it.”

“I don’t want this conversation to go towards me,” he cried.

“I would go straight for…Katsuki, yea, yum. Like a bottle rocket.”

“Don’t bring him up.”

Mei bobbed her head, singing, “Sexual tension.”

Emi snapped her fingers, “Hey, have your ‘Sex in the City’ on your own time.”

Sirius whined, “God, I can already feel all the flips she’s going to make me do.”

When they started dancing, cheering, and flipping, Katsuki lost his mind all over again because Izuku could bend, twirl, lift, spin, and flip like a beast; sure people saw how wide and tall Katsuki looked in his uniform, the beatdowns he took, the ones he issued to other guys, how far his spirals went through the air but that shit paled to fucking flips and kick into the air. Lots of people could grab a ball and run it, but it required a ton of training and practice not to land on your neck when performing a cartwheel.

Him and Izuku occasionally made eye contact, but other than that they didn’t say too much to each other. The rest of the team chanted when the cheerleaders started their cheer, interrupting them with the borrowed cheer from ‘Bring It On’.

Inasa stomped his feet, “‘I said brr’, it’s cold in here, there must be some thots in the atmosphere!”

 “Oye, oye, oh, ice, ice. Slow it down, oye, oye, oh. Ice, ice.” Shindo sang. “Break it down!”

Hanta tried to flip into a basic cartwheel and clipped his chin on the grass again.

Izuku faced the football players and clapped his hands. “I’m hot. I rock. My brain is smaller than my cock. I cheat. I drink. I steal. I’m pretty sure I went into every hole. Boy, I’m such a sleaze.  I’m a football player, yea, a football player.”

The girls cheered. “Yea, Izuku!”

Ochako squeezed him around his waist and lifted him off his feet. “Suck on that, boys!”

Katsuki ripped his helmet off—the guys oh-ed childishly into their hands, commenting ‘it’s about to go down, y’all’— stormed to Izuku’s proud stance, and smacked his hands in a mockery of Izuku’s and cheered pleasantly. “I’m sexy. I’m cute. I love to blow big dicks. I’m staking by, my grades would make you cry. My skirt is short, wow, I’m such a whore. My mom would die if she saw the all the guys I ride. I’m a cheerleader, yea, a cheerleader.”

The guys ran to dogpile on Katsuki and woofed at the cheerleader. “Boy!”

“This is how we do! This is how we do!” Jin—though no one in the school really called him by his first name and routinely referred to him by his team issued nickname ‘Twice’ cause in his first year Jin had a grating habit of repeating himself twice; but that treatment was given to everyone on the team really,— blew a kiss at the cheerleader and waved daintily. “Sorry ladies we win, bye now.”

Izuku crossed his arms; his eyes—the color of regurgitated grass—narrowed; Katsuki might be scared if Izuku didn’t remind him of ticked off Care Bear. “Prick.”


Aizawa whacked the instigators with his clipboard. “Unless you want to switch sports, leave the cheerleaders alone.”

Emi scowled. “Keep your football players away from my cheerleaders.”

“Have your cheerleaders mind my players.”

Shindo hissed into his hand. “Damn, boy, it’s about to be a steel cage match in here. Royal Rumble.”

Aizawa glared back. “Shindo. Twenty laps.”








They’re in Organic Chemistry the next day and as the professor asked questions to the class, Izuku shot his arm up, thwarting every attempt Katsuki made to answer and earn participation points for the course; the one area he lacked sorely as everything else—labs, exams, assignments—he aced without issue. Izuku got every question right, too, and looked back every time at Katsuki’s table with his bottom lip sensually trapped between his teeth as the professor smiled and praised Izuku.

Payback for the cheer; and some people thought Katsuki was mad to call Izuku evil.







The manager of Ultra’s Tasty Sandwiches, a guy of twenty-seven who dropped out of San Jose University to pursue a full-time position, lumped Katsuki with Izuku on his second day. Owen talked animatedly about the restaurant, and the guy clearly had some love for the place, he spent so many hours Katsuki didn’t know if he ever slept, but fuck could Katsuki not give a rat’s ass about it.

Owen tried to talk hip even though he aged past his prime. “So like, it’s all cool in the hood here, my main man, my dawg, my homie, my brotha.”

  “Yea,” Katsuki offered when Owen paused expectantly for him to agree.

“Later, Owen,” Nemuri said, undoing her long ponytail; a wash of sliky moonlight dark hair trickled down her long back like a black wave. Own checked out her ass, grinning at Katsuki like they should share a symbolic moment just because they both glanced at one girl’s ass.

Yea, Own was kind of a dirtbag, too.

“Izuku,” Owen shook Izuku by the shoulders.

“Hey, Owen,” he smiled like the human representation of Capri Sun; all summer taste that you sucked through a thin straw. “What’s going—oh,” Izuku soured. “You.”

This fruit punch looking mother—


“Great, you guys know each other,” Owen said. “Izuku’s gonna show you the ropes to making an Ultra Tasty Sandwich.”

Owen left them to it and went into the back office.

“Alright, Katsuki, first thing first. You always wash your hands before you touch any of the food. Then you get a pair of gloves,” Izuku pointed to the stainless steel sink and the housing compartment with transparent latex gloves.

Katsuki lazily ran his hands under the faucet.

“Use soap,” Izuku instructed; hovered behind his back with a frown of how he disapproved of Katsuki’s ‘hand washing’ technique.

He bit back with the faucet still running. “Are you kidding me?”

“No. I don’t know where your hands have been.”

Katsuki fumed internally, and pumped an excess amount of soap on his hand all while he glared hot daggers at Izuku, his eyes burning through him, saying ‘that enough soap for you, cheerleader’. “There, princess, they clean enough for you?”

“Dry them.”

Katsuki vehemently ripped out two sheets of paper towels, and gave that task the same amount of aggressive energy. “There,” he tossed the used paper in the trash, and peeled on the latex gloves.

“Okay, so all our sandwiches aren’t cut, you have to do that. So watch me,” Izuku said, then flattened his hand on the top beard of the foot long and sliced the knife horizontally. “Put pressure so it doesn’t move and never cut all the way or the beard will rip apart.”

Katsuki tried it.


He set his knife down, breathing loudly out his nose like an enraged bull in a pen. “What? What now?”

“You’re squishing the beard.”

“You said—!”

“I said ‘pressure’, put pressure. You’re trying to kill it.”

“Look, it’s going to turn into shit at the end of the day.”

“It has to look nice to the customer or they won’t want it.  Here,” Izuku pulled another oven warmed beard off the rack and switched it with sandwich Katsuki flattened with his wide palm. “Put pressure. Pressure. Katsuki I said pressure. Geez Louise,” Izuku added his latex hand over Katsuki’s and molded it so the skin of the beard wasn’t denting under his fingers. “Now.”

Katsuki glared as he sliced the beard.

“Okay, usually we put mayo on all our sandwiches but customers can request or add another type. So there’s lite mayo too, but we’ll just use the regular one,” Izuku plucked the tube labeled ‘MAYO’ ands squeezed out some to both sides of the beard. “Here, try, now don’t—“

Katsuki clutched the tube hard enough the loose cap rocketed off, ricocheting a ruckus as it bounced off the counter and rolled on its side along the tile; Katsuki’s practice sandwich had a melting mountain of mayo.

Izuku stood in silence. “That’s too much.”

He closed his eyes. “Shut up.”

 Izuku made an abortive sound next to him.

Katsuki turned, so ready to crush Izuku into fucking gravy, but the tears welling in his grass blood eyes halted the insult on his tongue.

Izuku sniffled, fanning his face as he sobbed with a smile shifting back and forth from laughter to ugly duck crying . “Oh my gosh, it’s just so—no one’s ever—aw, man, thank you so much, Katsuki. “

“Shut up!”

His knee buckled as he laugh-sobs doubled in volume and effort. “This is so beautiful.”






Hanta, Eijirou, and Katsuki walked out of the guys’ locker room, dewy from the quick cold shower they ran under after practicing in the heat for three hours. Katsuki got his hair down and dripping on his neck like a waterfall , he rushed through his shower because he and the guys had plans for Friday and if they lingered long enough in the locker room then Inasa or Shindo would try to con them into going to another frat party like they did every weekend. Parties were okay; Katsuki liked the free beer and sometimes having that extreme bass vibrate through him like a shockwave was cathartic for his brain but a lot of the people there were working with two brain cells and horrid body odor. Plus with work filling his weekends,  Katsuki had less time to nurse hangovers and party binges. Inasa and Shindo were the guys you hung out with in small dosages anyway.

“Okay, Denki’s got the weed. Mina’s jacked some food from work,” Eijirou reported, reading through his texts.

“What are we watching?” Hanta asked.

Eijirou slung his bookbag off his shoulder and unzipped it while they walked, fishing around for the boxset. He turned over the thick boxset; Katsuki groaned. “You fucking kidding me?”

“Dude, you love Buffy.”

“No. You love Buffy.”

Hanta took the box to look over it. “Awesome, Buffy!”

Eijirou scratched his head. “Wait, it is ‘Teen Wolf’ you love because all the dudes are hot?”

“I don’t watch that sissy Harry Twilight crap.”

Hanta hissed. “Dude. You gotta respect the Potter.”

“Oh shut the fuck up.”

Eijirou placed his hand over his mouth, processing it. “This whole time. He didn’t like…my god.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s like you’re not even human, man.”

“That’s what happens when you stop being a virgin,” said Katsuki.

“Me and Mina are waiting for the right moment. Girls are delicate about that.”

Hanta said, “I’m just waiting. For anyone. Anyone.”

Katsuki gave him a thumb down. “Boo. Fucking lame.”

Hanta suddenly drifted off, cracking open the gymnasium door, and filled the muted hallways with the squeak of rubber soles, the echoing playback of working bodies, and the boisterous chants of cheers. Eijirou and Katsuki followed and checked out the nose, seeing the cheerleaders rehearse their routine.

Sirius shot back into three handsprings right into Izuku’s arm where he gripped her by the hips and threw her up, catching and balancing her with his hands as she clapped with the rest of the girls and cheered.

Izuku had his eyes glued to Sirius’ legs, prepared to help her recover should she lose her equilibrium as she lifted one leg up. The tension in his arms pulled all the muscles taut and hard against the skin, showcasing the hidden strength inside his body.

Emi counted off, and on the fifth count, Sirius and Izuku timed the  drop flawlessly—Sirius landing like a dancer in his hands.

The team applauded.

Izuku set Sirius down softly.

She nodded back as he asked her something, and they high five-ed.

It was as Izuku used the hem of his shirt to mop up the sweat off his brows did he notice Katsuki gaping in the doorway.

Katsuki slammed the door. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

Eijirou stared as Katsuki cleared down the hall in record time. “Why the heck is he running?”

“I think he’s running away from Izuku.”

“…I don’t even know where to start with him.”








Aizawa perched his arm on the rail of the bleacher, “So, you in those capris,” he flirted with his wife, who was probably one of the very few human living on this planet to get off on his shit skills.

Emi blushed, laughing. “Oh stop, you dirty dog.”


Katsuki looked down from his plank position to Eijirou, “Dude. It’s like—it’s like watching your parents fuck.”

Eijirou gritted his teeth, trying to maintain it. “It’s—it’s beautiful.”

Shindo panted, “Coach, ha, coach’s gonna slay that puss.”

Aizawa, gifted with more than a fouty year old virgin’s charm level, set his black eyes back on the field. “You guys look bored. How about burpees?”

“Fucking Shindo!” Inasa shouted.

“All the damn time.”

“Fuck, man.”

Tetsutetsu said, “Dude I have three assignments due by midnight, shut up.”

Aizawa checked his iPhone watch, “I would get started. I might let you leave before eight.”

The cheerleaders complained next, performing crunches  on the grass, “Coach, we’re tired.”

Emi turned her head and shielded her eyes against the glare of the sun, “Yea,” she popped her dry lips apart.  “I don’t think you guys are. Jumping jacks.” She looked back to her husband and delicately traced her finger down the lanyard of his whistle. “So, I see you blow on this all day.”


“I’m betting you're quite skilled with your mouth.”

“Are we still role playing?”

Emi kicked his shin, “Yes. Now fucking seduce me, jerkface.”

“Oh, uh. Yea…sexy lady, I blow this all day.”

She coiled a strand of hair around her finger. “Oh.”

Ochako cradled her hard abs, “Oh my god, I still have to do my paper for philosophy.”

Camie said, “Man, I’m gonna miss eating out my girlfriend.”

Itsuka whined, “Shut up, Camie!”







“So?” Izuku prompted, mopping around Katsuki as he cleaned the stainless countertops with a rag and some kitchen-friendly spray.

He mocked, “So?”

Izuku pursed his mouth at the back of his head. “Why were you spying on me?”

“What—I wasn’t spying.”

He propped one hand on his hip, skeptical. “Oh really.”


“Then why were you watching me?” He questioned.

“Cause I heard some weak ass cheers and I know it would be your ass and I was right.”

“Spy,” Izuku muttered, then went back to the bucket to dunk the mop inside

Katsuki sprayed his back while he busied himself with the task.

“Katsuki!” Izuku squeaked, hopping away; the handle rattled as it hit the floor.

“Talk shit, get spritz, bitch.”

He touched the back of his neck where the spray wet him, trying to wipe off the chemical. “Oh my god, you’re awful. Look you got it on my skin, what if I die or something?”

Katsuki set the sprayer down, ripped a sheet of paper towel, went to the sink and soaked it. Then he smacked away Izuku’s hand as he attempted to clean it himself. “Shut up, I’ll clean it, you big baby.”

He stilled Izuku with one hand on the side of his neck; if he concentrated on it then Katsuki could feel the harsh swallow of Izuku’s throat, the rapid hummingbird rhythm of his pulse, the dewy layer of sticky sweat on his skin; how hot it was to put his hand on him there; what positions he could push Izuku in with the command of his neck.

He shook his head then removed his hand, and cupped the fuzzy curls pasted to the nape of his neck so he could clean the area completely.

Izuku let a whistle of air out his breath because of the cold, wet rag. “That’s cold.” Katsuki could feel him shivering from it; the reaction turned his tongue to lead for a second, making words impossible for him.

“Don’t spray me next time, jerk,” Izuku said in the quiet of the shop; the radio still played random charting hits but the lyrics seemed to muffle in place of processing the blunt contact of Izuku’s skin to his.

“It’s cause you’re hot,” Katsuki said. “Your body—I mean, you. I mean the temperature of your body.”

Izuku sucked his lips. “Can you get my back?”

Katsuki’s throat dried up; croaked out like the Savannah relocated up in there without the license. “Yea.”

He dipped his finger under the plain tee collar and saw the fucking beauty cheerleading did to Izuku’s spine—and you wouldn’t think someone’s spine could be arousing but Katsuki salivated as he thought about Izuku sweating severely down his back.

Katsuki stepped back, crumbling the wet rag under his fingers. “There.”

“Meanie,” Izuku teased, apparently not learning his lesson.

“Watch yourself,” he warned.

Izuku carded back his dark curls; the teasing curl of his mouth grew hot with a challenge. “Or what?”








“Whoops,” Minoru said, “I dropped my magnum condom for my massive cock.”

Twice took the foil out of his hand, “Tits, dude, thanks for finding my condom. Man, such tits dude.”

Dabi scoffed, “I think you’re talking about my condom.”

Inasa jumped in, wearing just a towel around his barrel wide hips. “Thanks for finding my condom, guys.”

Minoru snapped, “Fuck you! It totally fits on me.”

Eijirou shook his head walking gingerly around the guys as his feet and the floor was still wet. “Dude, it ain’t right to lie.”

He sneered, mentally beating up everyone in the locker room. “Oh, fuck you, Eijirou.”

Tetsutetsu flicked Minoru’s flushed pink ear. “Hey, don’t talk to my brother like that.”

Twice snapped his fingers with an excitable energy, pointing at Eijirou’s and Tetsutetsu’s back. “That’s who you guys remind me of! Remember that movie about those sisters who were witches and twins. Twtiches! Get it, cause they’re witches and twi–“

Katsuki crammed his body through the crowd. “Oh my fucking god, move!”

“Oh Big Papa John in the house!”

“Papa’s in the house,” Twice shouted.

“When are we getting Papa John’s for real?” Shindo asked as he towel dried his hair, standing and basking in his naked glory with no clothing.

“Stop fucking calling me ‘Papa’,” Katsuki growled. “I know you sluts love calling me ‘daddy’ but I’m not sleeping with any of your ugly asses.”

“What about me?” Eijirou piped.

“Fine. You.”


Neito complained, hand thrown up to shield his eyes against Shindo as he pulled unapologetic Captain Morgan pose on the bench, dick wagging freely, “Can you cover your dick, Shindo, I would like to get out of here without seeing one dong.”

“My boy needs to breathe.”

“You have no manners.”

Katsuki said out loud as he stepped into the leg holes of his boxer briefs, flaccid dick jiggling, “Someone tell Harvard to grow a fucking pair.”

Neito said, “It’s like I’m the straightest guy in here.”

Dabi snorted, pulling his ‘Drake’ shirt over his head. “Yea, Okay.”

Twice high five-ed Dabi. “Burn!”

Eijirou announced to the room, “In all fairness, you guys are all great and I would be more than honored to have a wild gang bang with you. Low key though.”

Hanta touched his chest, “Thank you, man. You would really sleep with me?”

“Hell yea! You’re one hot tamale, Hanta.”

“Cause it’s been rough with the girls,” he explained; his last string of relationships lasted little more than a month or two and it started to dig at Hanta’s psyche.

Eijirou extended his arms out and motioned for Hanta to walk into them; they embraced. “Don’t worry, one girl will want your hot sauce in her. Just be patient.”

Inasa shut his locker with a groan, “Now I want Taco Bell, thanks man.”

“Give me back my fucking condom, assholes,” Minoru demanded.






Katsuki looked at his lad table, then Izuku’s, then his, and then back to Izuku’s; Izuku sat at his and turned in the stool, looking pleased to be caught.

Katsuki asked, “Why are you sitting at my table?”

He shrugged, “It’s a free country.”

“What are you planning?”

Izuku laughed and folded his arms, “I think you forgot that I chipped my tooth because you threw a football at my head.”

“On accident, you prick! Christ.”

Izuku used his pen to point. “You laughed.”

“…Okay…I did, but that was before I saw that you got fucked up. What? Why you giving me that look?”

“You’re right,” he said. “I came here with an objective.” Izuku motioned for Katsuki to lean into his space so he could pass a secret; Izuku’s warm breath tickled his sensitive ear as he whispered, “To spy on you and to steal all your participation points.”

He flinched back, feeling a little humiliated as Izuku laughed while he was about to pop a woody. “If you fucking think I’m gonna let you take my fucking points then you got a real fucking storm coming, cheerleader.”

Izuku smiled. “I’ll bring my umbrella, jock.”







“Go Wildcats,” Katsuki screamed abruptly into Izuku’s ear as he flipped the chairs on to the table.

Izuku screamed, and his cheeks puffed out like a blowfish in cute fury. “You jerk,” he laughed, giving Katsuki a shove. “Stop scaring me like that. And by the way, you just outed yourself, now I’m going to tell everyone Katsuki Bakugou watched High School Musical.”

His smirk diminished faster than a cinder block pushed off the ledge. “You wouldn’t.”

“I’m a cheerleader. My captain is Camie, people in Canada would know by the end of Tuesday.”

Katsuki smiled; an unpleasant one with teeth and lips curled like devil horns. “See, I fucking knew you were evil.”

“Evil? You’re evil.”


“…Okay, well you need to let me get my sources together.”

Katsuki ruffled his hair. “Shut up, cheerleader.”








“Meow Izuku,” Shindo flirted, wearing a pizza suit from the Pizza Hut adjacent to the sandwich shop in the mall’s food court. “Looking like a snack with my number all over it. When we gonna chill, huh?”

That fucker, Katsuki thought in the food court where he took his break, eating Taco Bell

“When I’m not busy.”

“But you always busy, gorgeous. And you leaving me hurting with those Instagram pictures. When you gonna have me slide in between those thighs?

Izuku sighed, smacking the wet rag he was using to wipe down the counter. “Listen, I’m at work.”

“Yea. Distracting me.”

“Shindo,” he said. “My boss is gonna lay on me if he catches me talking to you.”

“He won’t if you let me lay on you. C’mon, baby. Wouldn’t you like a hot steaming slice of this meat lovers deluxe?”

Katsuki emptied his tray with his half-eaten lunch and marched to the counter with his hands in his pockets. “Hey, Izuku, Owen said you gotta train me on the register or something.”

“Owen said that—oh, yea, I totally blanked on that. Sorry, Shindo, but I have to show Katsuki the ropes.”

“That’s cool,” Shindo said, then folded all his fingers except his pinky and thumb and held it to his ear, “Call me, I do delivery. All hours. Hot and ready. Melt in your mouth—“

Katsuki punched him in the pepperoni closet to where his dick should be under the pizza suit,  “Fuck off.”

“Cap,” he groaned, folded in half.

“Get your ass to work.”

“Uh, thanks for that,” Izuku confessed when Shindo shuffled to the food court and started dancing outside the Pizza Hut with a plastic sign raving about their medium pizza with a soda and a side for the low price of seven-ninety-nine.  Shindo flexed his arms to a crowd of senior college girls. “Shindo really doesn’t get that I don’t hit it and quit it.”

Katsuki found a rag, figuring he might as well help Izuku since they had no customers to deal with. “Yea. He’s on the team. Everybody knows Shindo’s a damn dog,” he said; half of the team were betting on Shindo’s dick to spontaneously grow a wart or to set off the next Black Plague. “Believe me he’s gonna try until he gets bored, someone hotter comes along, or you get someone. Your best bet is to tell him to fuck off. Like lay into him, don’t do that ‘oh I’m sorry’ bullshit.”

“I can’t be that mean—oh, don’t give me that look,” he said. “I made that cheer because you guys were making fun of us.”

“And the brownies?”

“Oh my god, I told you that I didn’t do that,” Izuku protested.  “I didn’t bring brownies. Why would I?”

Okay, granted a lot of college kids weren’t in a position to be shelling out cash for food to take to a frat party with food but the timing worked too well to be a coincidence and what better opportunity for revenge but at a party where Katsuki was heavily intoxicated. “I don’t fuckin’ know. But you gave me a look.”

“Yes! Because you looked at my butt.”

“So,” Katsuki didn’t deny it. “That’s a fucking compliment if I look at it.”

“I’m this close to beating you up.”

“Pfft, Yea, okay.”

“I could beat you up,” he insisted.

“I would definitely kick your ass. I’m a football player.”

“And I’m a cheerleader.”

Katsuki said, “So?”

“So I can kick high. And do flips, like Batman.”

Katsuki snorted, “If you ever became a hero then we’re all fucking dead as shit.”








Eijirou said, “Hey, me and some people are having a Quidditch game, you want in, bro?”

Katsuki smashed the buttons on the controller, reclined on the sofa and shooting enemies left and right on the TV. “Sorry I have to do this thing called sex and having a life.”

Eijirou flung his torso over the sofa. “Dude, c’mon. Please. It will be fun.”

“Yea, brooms and virgins, fun,” he deadpanned.

“People who watch Harry Potter are not virgins.”

“The majority are.”

He clapped his hands in prayer. “Please, Katsuki. Everyone else bailed on me. Denki has a paper. Mina works. Hanta went to his parents’ place. Please, please. I’ll buy you White Castle. You can bitch the whole time and I won’t complain.”

Katsuki performed a smooth maneuverer in the game, sliding to one enemy and taking them out with a knife to their chest, then blasting the two sprinting enemies with a shotgun blast. “I’ll take 20 sliders, a bag of fries, two cups of cheese, okay, don’t be cheap. Two, man. Any less and I’ll go ballistic on you. And you’re buying beer.”

Eijirou commented offhandedly, “Kinda demanding—“

“What’d you say, you wanna go alone?”

“Okay, okay. Deal.”

“Fine,” Katsuki groaned as if Eijirou convinced him to go through with it and he didn’t negotiate a whole deal out of it.  “I’ll play with the fucking virgins.”

Katsuki started to gravely regret his choice as the Quidditch captain, a guy named Tenya with glasses studying law, greeted the motley crew of college students gathered on a long yard of manicured grass with an accented voice.  He wore pads on his knees and elbows for safety and brought a bag full of snacks for the whole team. “Good morrow, my fellow Potterheads!”

One person hooted and clapped; Katsuki recognized Ochako as that one person and saw Izuku sitting on the grass next to her in shorts and a loose Harry Potter t-shirt bearing the age of its years with the stretched out collar and the small tears in it. 

Tenya smiled, “Thank you. I see we have some new Potheads as well. Welcome, friends. How about we all go around and say what our house is and what is something we wouldn’t know by looking at you”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “For fuck’s sake.”

Eijirou nudged him, “Shh.”

He motioned. “Well Gandalf over there should hurry the fuck up.”

Tenya started them off with a, “I’m Tenya and my house is Ravenclaw and something you wouldn’t know about me is that I collect encyclopedias.”

“So basically no one’s ever jacked his dick,” Katsuki mumbled again, looking bored as one person after another listed their house and a unique skill or trait.

Tenya pointed at the next person in line, “You.”

All heads shifted in Eijirou’s direction as the goofball waved to the group. “Hi, I’m Eijirou. House Hufflepuff.” Someone hooted back, shouting ‘Hufflepuff represent’, Eijirou laughed. “My friends call me the beatbox cause I can make almost any noise with my mouth. Kinda like that guy from Pentratoix.”

Katsuki pulled out grass by their roots as he zoned out Tenya’s gaze. “How about you?”

Eijirou elbowed him.


“Yea, what’s your name, your house, and your thing?”

“Katsuki,” he said to the curious onlookers. “You know, star quarter back, I know you heard of me so I don’t see the point in saying my name but whatever. And I dunno, House Stark.”

Tenya corrected, “That’s Game of Thrones.”

“Yea, that’s good ass show.”

“Okay…what’s your thing?”

Katsuki said, “I can rap.”

Izuku challenged; one of the souls aside from Eijirou who didn’t shrivel under his apathetic eyes. “No way.”

“Bitch,” he smirked.  “I can rap. Go on, make a request.”

“’Rap God’,” Izuku grinned, probably thinking he made a clever call on the track suggestion

“Eijirou, lay me a fresh track.”

“You got it, boy,” Eijirou worked his mouth like a human beatbox.

“I'm beginning to feel like a Rap God, Rap God. All my people from the front to the back nod, back nod. Now who thinks their arms are long enough to slap box, slap box? They said I rap like a robot, so call me Rapbot.”

A few people applauded; Izuku didn’t share their perspective.

 “Sweatpants,” he said next.

“Watching haters wonder why Gambino got the game locked. Half-Thai thickie, all she wanna do is Bangkok. Got her hair done, French braids, now she ASAP. Bino so insensitive, she asking, "Why you say that?!"

A girl howled, “Oh baby, that’s sexy.”

Tenya said, “Fantastic, let’s keep this going. You.”

Izuku waved, “Hey, I’m Izuku. I’m in House Gryffindor, and my special talent is that I can lick my elbows.”

Katsuki challenged. “Bullshit.”

Tenya intervened. “You’re supposed to—“

Izuku licked his elbow.

“Gay,” he said.

Izuku shrugged.

Katsuki stared back at the ground; fuck, that flexibility.

“Okay, I don’t want to call out names but we can’t have everyone show their special talent or secret I booked this spot for two hours so we got a time crunch here.”








“So there are a few positions. We have our chasers, keepers, a seeker, and  beaters—“

Katsuki snorted. “I know that position.” He fisted his hand and stroke it up and down on an invisible shaft.

Tenya looked unimpressed. “Let’s keep this clean please.”

Katsuki splayed his hands like he did nothing wrong.

Tenya continued, “So each team has three chasers, two beaters, one keeper, and one seeker…”

Katsuki half paid attention to the specific names of the positions, the equipment, what meant what in Harry Potter; but he nailed down the rules.  Chasers made your points, beaters defended them, keepers played goalie, and the seeker went after the snitch—he didn’t know what that was other than it entered later in the game and scored the team a hefty amount of points. Tenya and Ochako handed out colored head and wristbands out of a plastic tote; the colors being red and green, and assured everyone that the bands were thoroughly washed after every game.

Tenya passed Katsuki a green headband, “You’re our chaser.”

“Playing on my strength huh.”

“It would be a waste not to make our star quarterback a chaser,” he said. “Oh, don’t forget your broomstick.”

Katsuki grabbed one, feeling like a massive nerd with it, and glared around to see if anyone was laughing at him.

“Looks like we’re on the same team,” Izuku said; his headband complimented his eyes.  “I had no idea you were into Harry Potter.”

“Yea. Uh, I’m team Edward or something.”

“You know nothing about Harry Potter.”

“It’s got vampires, right?”

“Muggle,” Izuku laughed.

“What the fuck is that?”

Izuku shoulder pressed him teasingly, sauntering in a slow gait that drew Katsuki’s eyes to his round butt. “Watch the movies and find out,” he purred, walking away.

 “…Why is he so hot, fucking lord,” Katsuki seethed, as much as Izuku frequently drove him up the walls with his sass, his stubbornness, his concerning deficit of fear and nerves when it came to Katsuki; those same reasons and more made Katsuki eager for his body, his smile, his jokes, the shifts at Ultra Tasty Sandwiches where they closed the shift together and talked away the last two hours. Yea the cheerleader and football player matchup was the biggest cliché but right after the revealing uniforms, the glimpses of girls’ panties as they twirled and flipped in the air, he never understood the appeal of cheerleaders. They’re hot, most at least, but Katsuki found them insanely grating during the game with their dumb cheers and rehearsed routines.  So Katsuki shouldn’t be this crazy about a sassy cheerleader that designed cheers to mock Katsuki.

Eijirou bounced on his toes. “Bro, we’re rivals.” He lifted his bangs blending seamlessly over the red headband.

“Don’t cry when you lose.”

“Boy, you’re on my tuff. It’s Harry Potter up in this bitch. You’re dead.”

“Against virgins? I doubt that.”

Eijirou whacked him. “Stop saying we’re all virgins.”

“No one here has busted a nut since 09,” he said, looking around at the sorry shits with their fandom, and their books, and their nerd lore.  “Really pathetic.”

“I’m telling Izuku on you.”

He snorted, “Go tell his punk ass like I’m fucking scared of him.”

Eijirou called, “ Izuku!”

“You fucking snitch,” he growled.

“Oh, I thought you weren’t scared.”

Katsuki straddled his broomstick when a whistle ruptured the airwaves and Tenya yelled for the teams to huddle up with their captain. “Your ass,” Katsuki threatened, pointing at his eyes then Eijirou’s and marked him for dead. “Is mine.”

“Dude, just let me have your meat sub, c’mon, why we playing this game? I can’t stand this sexual tension anymore,” he gasped. “Make me yours. Ravish me! I want your throbbing fat cock in my butt.”

“Shut the fuck up, dude,” Katsuki hissed, ears flaming red. “So fucking embarrassing.”

Ochako shouted, “Eijirou, c’mon, team huddle. Let’s trash these punks.”

Izuku laughed, trotting to the other side of the field, “Ochako, so mean.”

“You know I go hard in Harry Potter.”

“Ready, muggle?” Izuku tapped Katsuki’s shoulder, his thin thread Harry Potter shirt flapping behind him with the breeze blowing; there was some skin preview, the broom between his legs started to feel like a cock—whose; whoever you wanted either way Katsuki felt like he was holding a dick and it was again Izuku’s fault.  

He’d probably said this sometime before but— fuck cheerleaders.








Tenya squatted at the knees, “Alright fellow Potterheads, I have a solid plan.”

“Listen,” Katsuki started, “Pass it to me. I got this. Time you cuntnuggets see a man play this fairy shit you call a game.”

One chick, that might’ve been called Kyouka or something of that variation, with Sex Pistol’s t-shirt sheared through at home for ultimate edge and style and jet black hair said, “How about no, jock?”

He asked, coldly,  to Hot Topic’s sole income. “Did you just tell me no?”

Izuku poked in the ribs, “Behave.”

“This little bitch–“

Wannbe Joan Jett plucked a twig off the ground and carved into the soft earth, “So this is what I’m thinking…”









Eijirou charged, “I’m coming for you, bro.”

Katsuki skidded to a stop, three feet away from the goal, the team started to swarm on him in all directions. Yea; he was the threat here; real deal. “Yea. I was counting on it. Izuku.” He cocked the ball over the reaching hands and bobbing heads, so far out of their reach except for—

Izuku soared, clutching it, and landed coolly on the grass.

Fucking cheerleaders, man, fucking cheerleaders.

“Never put a jock and a cheerleader together,” Izuku said, “We’re dangerous.”

Ochako pointed, “Get him!”






Katsuki walked back to his side of the field, shoulder bumping Eijirou’s, “Look at that I’m winning.”

“You’re having fun,” he said. “Told ya.”

“Please,” he scoffed.

Eijirou lifted his eyebrows up and down. “Don’t keep him waiting.”


Izuku yanked on his sleeve, sweating through his clothes. “C’mon, I just thought of a cool plan. Sorry, Eijirou,” he eyed him with distrust, pulling Katsuki toward him to share his battle plan for the coming round,  “But this is super-secret stuff here.”

He lifted one arm, smiling like a proud parent when their rowdy, competitive, rude, callous, dog mean child of theirs managed to make a friend after years; Katsuki took it personally and maybe Harry Potter didn’t throw punches but he did. “Hey, don’t mind me. You kids have fun.”

With Izuku’s back turned, Eijirou drew a heart with his fingers, encasing him and Izuku.

Katsuki showed him a finger to get familiar with.








Izuku patted the space on the bed, “Sit, sit. It’s starting.”

Katsuki dragged his body over and slumped, setting a pillow on the wall behind him to lean against it. “This better be good,” he said.

On the laptop was the metallic gold letters in the clouds spelling out ‘Harry Potter and the Soccer’s Stone’; Izuku propped a pillow on the wall and leaned back, placing the bowl of popcorn between their bodies. “Don’t worry, you’re gonna love it.”

“So?” Izuku hummed; the credits scrolled on the screen, the score giving Katsuki a whimsical sensation in his bones.

“It was okay.”

Izuku chased a string of cheese as he took another slice of pizza they’d ordered halfway through the movie. Marinara sauced smeared at the corner of his mouth; he didn’t notice; Katsuki couldn’t look anywhere else. “I think you liked it.”

“Clean your face, jackass.”

Izuku poked his tongue out. “Did I get it?”

He did, but he looked ridiculous doing that so, “No there’s still some more. Right there?”





Izuku narrowed his eyes. “I know what you’re doing, jerk.”

“God, just trying to make sure you don’t look like a dumbass. Fine.”

Izuku lifted his slice, one hand on the crust, the other cradling the body. “Load the next one.”

A third of the way through their Harry Potter marathon, Eijirou burst into the room, eyes intense as he sniffed the air. “Smells like pizza, mountain dew, and farts. You guys are marathoning. And you didn’t invite me.”

Katsuki hurled his pillow hard as a bullet; the target: Eijirou’s fat nosy, grinning, slimy ball of a head. “Get the fuck out, you’re fucking talking over the movie.”

Izuku toppled on his side, giggling,

Eijirou shut the door and avoided what would’ve been an embarrassing way to go out—death via pillow bullet. The door swung open; Eijirou checked the spot where the pillow impacted it. “Damn dude, did you fucking dent it?”

Katsuki tugged on the pillow Izuku hogged. “Gimme that.”

“No, it’s mine.”

“Bitch that’s my pillow. This is my dorm, you fuck.”

Eijirou pleaded, eyes soft and mournful like the family pooch whining for scraps. “Can I at least get a slice of pizza?”


Izuku poked him with his big toe.

“Fine. One. Don’t be a greedy bitch.”






The floodlights illuminated the football field, turned the platform of cut grass into a performance stage, and on the hard earth Katsuki thought himself close to a god with the faces on the bleachers decorated with face paint to match their schools colors—blue and white—; the frat guys hammered to the point they stripped off their shirts and pounded their chests like animals; the girls who randomly lifted their top and bra to flash one of the players; Aizawa on the sidelines with his earpiece, analyzing the opposing team, the score, and the strength of all his players on the field and on the bench, his face never shown what he was thinking.

Katsuki lined up and stood behind Eijirou, “Sixteen, sixteen! Hut, hut, hut!”

His team charged forward and he paced back, the ball palmed securely in his hands as he waited for Dabi to open up; a few other players were trying to cancel that out but his own guys pulled up a wall against them.

Dabi ran from point to point, shadowed by a blonde who towered their whole team.

Katsuki reared his arm back to toss to Dabi’s, then changed his trajectory at the last second and spiraled it over to Hanta, who leapt over two tackled players and clutched it tight to his stomach. Twice and Inasa put up the guard around him, shoving players off like flies.

The cheerleaders clapped, “Let’s go Bulldogs! Let’s go Bulldogs!”

Katsuki looked to the sidelines;  Izuku and Sirius took a running start from either side of each other and performed an an aerial cartwheel, hyping up the crowd. Always the little crowd pleaser, Izuku kicked back into three somersaults.

The girls clapped.

Ochako looped her arms through his and led him to watch the play with the rest of the team.

Izuku tried a wave at Katsuki; kind of shy; kind of hopeful.

Katsuki panted and returned it.

Yamada, the game’s announcer, livened up the field. “And that’s another point for U.A.’s Bulldogs! These guys are in it to win it!”

They won. At the end of the game, the team dog piled on top of Katsuki until Aizawa broke it up and ordered them to hit the showers.







Izuku walked over, then stepped on his toes to talk loud in Katsuki’s ear. “Congrats.”

“Thanks,” he nodded, then cupped his hand over Izuku’s ear. “Cool flip.”


Someone shoved into Izuku from behind and tripped him into bumping forward to Katsuki’s chest. Katsuki balanced Izuku so he didn’t spill his red solo cup all over his shirt and glared around the frat house for the prick, but the haze from all the pot being smoked fogged the neon-lit room.

“I like how you can do that thing,” Izuku said.

“What thing?”

“Where the ball spins.”

“A spiral?”

Izuku said, “Yea. That!”

“Want me to teach you?”

Izuku’s eyes exploded with joy. “Really? That would be so cool.”

Katsuki jutted his chin. “Let’s go outside.”

The crowd was thinner in the backyard; a few people chilled on the deck, engaging in a smooth conversation about sport and life, Dabi nodded in acknowledgment with Himiko drunkenly fused to his waist as he talked to another guy.

Eijirou and Mina curled on the swing and watched Family Guy on his phone.

Katsuki nudged the swing into moving and jolted the couple.

Eijirou pumped his fist while Mina blinked once, said something meant to be ‘hi’ but came out a zombie groaned, and nuzzled back into her boyfriend’s chest, stuck to him like glue.  “Hey, man. Oh snap, hi Izuku!”

Izuku smiled. “Hey.”

“You good?” Katsuki thought he ask because Eijirou and Mina were the ones to dance and party until the early morning like the Energizer Bunny.

Eijirou cocked a brow then understood, kissed Mina’s frizzy pink curls. Sleepily, she raised her head to kiss him back, the action more reflexive than intentional. “Oh, yea. She’s just sleepy. Pulled an all-nighter cause she had to close yesterday,” he said, playing with her hair. “Where are you going?”

He pointed with his thumb. “The yard.”

Eijirou wiggled his small eyebrows like red worms. “Oh.”

Katsuki scoffed. “Shut the fuck up, asshole. C’mon, Izuku.”

Katsuki found a football laying on the sidewalk. “Alright all you do is—“

“Wait,” Izuku screamed, then giggled. “Make sure you don’t throw it at someone’s head.”

Katsuki threatened to make Izuku’s goofy head his target and Izuku squeaked, hopping out of the way. “Shut up. Okay, so to get a perfect spiral you wanna have one hand on the end of the ball and the other on the side. And turned your body sideways.”

“Dude,” Rikido shouted from the deck. “The fuck, don’t go playing here, you’re gonna break another window, man. We’re still on probation.”

“I am so not surprised,” giggled Izuku.

Katsuki lowered his arm, “Fucking buzzkill.”

Izuku yawned. “I mean there’s the gym.”

“Shit, you saying you wanna break into the gym?”

“What;” Izuku started for the walkway on the side of the frat house, walking backward with a visible excitement in his step. “Too chicken?”

He followed, eyes on Izuku’s mischievous smile “Bitch please. I ain’t scared of shit. Let’s go, then.”







“You’re something else,” Katsuki said after Izuku jimmied the heavy duty lock and pulled it and the thick chain wrapped around the door handles.

Izuku eased the door open. “Shh,” he hushed, then grabbed Katsuki’s hand and pulled him into the dark hallways lit faintly by the exit sign and the tickle of moonlight at their heels, as soon as the door shut it blotted out; Katsuki whipped out his phone and tapped on the app for a light.  The emptiness of the building amplified the squeak of their shoes on the vinyl tile, the once microscopic sound louder than firecrackers in a tin bucket.

Izuku peeked around shady corners for security he assumed, or Izuku indulged in more than just beer at the party.

“Are you on a trip?”

Izuku’s hand smacked his face harder than Izuku probably intended. “Shh.”

Katsuki jerked his head back and escaped the gag. “No one’s—“



“Shh,” Izuku said, voice webbed with giggles; and Katsuki could push him and tell Izuku that if anyone was making a ruckus it was him but Izuku kind of held his hand once he earned Katsuki’s silence and Katsuki kind of didn’t mind it as much as he  thought would.

“In here,” Izuku staged whispered, pressing his index finger to his lips.

Katsuki flipped the lights while Izuku went through the long and painstaking process of shutting the heavy metal door without the hinges squeaking. He shook his head when Izuku succeeded and gave a thumbs up to him. “You’re fuckin’ stupid, ‘Zuku.”

Izuku skipped. “I know you are but what am I?”

“Dumb,” Katsuki said, rummaging through the sports equipment stored in the backroom of the gym. He tested the footballs for one with the most rugged texture.

“C’mon. Show me the thingy,” he insisted; man, hammered Izuku reminded Katsuki of those wind up toys from Toys R Us, crank it, and watch the little shit go and go; or maybe he was thinking of a puppy shown a rattling bag while you cooed excitedly, ‘what’s in here, huh?’, and the pup went ballistic, panting, jumping, barking because ‘holy shit; what’s in the bag; is it for me; it’s for me; give it to me’.

In more concise words; Izuku bordered the line between cute and annoying…wait, didn’t he always?

“It’s called a spiral,” he said; chuckling a breath as he thought how Izuku always annoyed him but remained sort of cute. Don’t mistake his sudden acceptance of the guy as defeat Izuku would be his nemesis when they played on the same field and he still believed evil lurked somewhere inside that fluffy thing Izuku called a heart.

 “Here,” Katsuki handed him the football and assumed the spots they were in back at the frat party with Katsuki flat to Izuku’s back and the gross scent of hot Cheetos, honey barbeque flavored wings from Wing Stop, and the tongue housing a dishwasher cocktail of liquor and booze; and the earthy scent naturally created from his pores like something laid out right after you mowed the grass and the rain came for a visit, in his nose. “ Take the ball.”

“Okay. Hold it like this, right?” He glanced back; their mouths were an inch apart; Izuku’s breath smelled—Katsuki couldn’t find the instinctive reflex to gag from it.

Katsuki made some minor adjustments to Izuku’s grip, experiencing a sharp little thrill of electricity as the hands-on demonstration led to tighter points of contact—the pressure of Izuku’s back to his front, Izuku’s calloused fingers; the sweat staining the back of his shirt from being confined in close quarters with a bunch of college students. “Yea.”

Christ, he needed tic-tacs; but also his eyes were pretty bomb this close and personal.

“Okay,” Katsuki motioned for Izuku to launch the ball from the other end of the gym.

Izuku palmed it, keeping it tight to his chest, and moved the throw through his right leg. It spiraled perfectly for a second before it went wobbly through the air.

Katsuki ran, reading it trajectory, and leapt up to grab it before it hit the hall.

“Dang it.”

“That was pretty decent, man. Not fuckin’ great but okay.”

“Oh how nice.”

They were too far away from each other to tell for sure but Izuku’s tone and his sassy posture told Katsuki he was probably rolling his eyes at him. “Watch me.”

Katsuki powered a spiral across the court; Izuku sprinted after, trying to keep up with its speed. There shouldn’t be any surprise in Katsuki when he jumped high off the floor and into the air to get it; damn cheerleader.

“Can you dunk?” He asked.

Izuku tossed him the ball, trying to get it to spiral with the same results.

Katsuki didn’t give him a hard time, chunking it back.

“I mean I could, but I’m not great at basketball, honestly. I can’t dribble.”


Izuku laughed. “I’m serious. It’s hard.”

“I can. I was gonna do basketball at first but football’s the shit.”

Izuku sighed, “Such a jock.”


“Hey, everyone thinks its super cool when I can do crazy flips and everything.”

“Can you do it now?”

Izuku shook his hand, the skin burning from the rubber of the football chafing him. “I mean, yea, in theory. I wouldn’t do any crazy moves when I’m drinking. That’s just asking for trouble. ” His nose wiggled as he thought about it, holding the ball. “I can do a cartwheel or a handstand. If you want crazy stuff you gotta ask when I’m sober.”

“Do it.”


Katsuki raised his arms. “Handstand.”

“Alright.” Izuku placed the ball aside and shook out his arms and legs, warming up the muscles. He lifted his arms over his hand then took a step, falling head first to the floor, and balanced his entire body on his hands. His shirt slid to his  chin.


Izuku  took a few steps on his hand, then righted himself. “I could normally hold that for longer.”

“I can never get that shit right. My legs fucking bend.”  

Izuku said, “Yea, that’s the tricky part for a lot of people actually.”

“Like look,” Katsuki swung his arms up and propelled forward, going on his hands and kicking up his  jerky legs.

“Wait, wait,” Izuku wrapped his arms around his hips to keep him from face planting. “Jesus you shouldn’t try that buzz. Hold still,” he crawled his hands up Katsuki’s thighs and calves, straightening them out. “Look. You’re upside down now,” he said, looking down at Katsuki as blood stormed the walls of his mind, applying pressure. “Cheerleader,” Izuku teased.

Something metallic whined; in his shock, Izuku released Katsuki’s legs and Katsuki dropped with a thud and before he could curse Izuku out about it, he was coming upside again, tugged by Izuku through another set of doors.

“Holy shit,” Katsuki saw a beam of white light  flashed erratically on them.

Izuku pulled him through the locker room, then past another door that opened to the blue tinted pool.

Katsuki rattled the locked door leading out of the pool. “The fuck, where do we—“

“Gimme your phone,” Izuku waited with his hand out and hid both their phones under the first row of bleachers. “Get in the pool.”

They shimmied off the ledged, trying to minimize the ripples, and inhaled a deep breath when the guard burst through the door. They sank to the pool floor, their hair floated around their faces as they looked to each other then up where they glimpse the orb of the flashlight jumping around the area. The guard moved on, retracing his steps, but they waited at the bottom for another minute before they resurfaced.

Izuku gasped, and pedaled to the edge of the pool, laying his arms on it as he filled his lungs with air.

Katsuki did the same, heaving laborious breaths.

Izuku started to giggle. “Oh my god.”

Katsuki laughed with him. “You little shit.”

“I didn’t think anyone would come!”

He yanked Izuku from his collar and dunked him under the water.

Izuku popped up. “Katsuki.”

“That’s for my wet clothes, dipshit.”

“Well, we didn’t get caught.”

“This whole thing was your idea,” said Katsuki. “So ,therefore, I get to blame you.”

Izuku perched his forearms again on the edge; the conditioned muscles from lifting and tossing girls around pressed against his skin, defined. The ripples undulating the water danced within Izuku’s grass vomit eyes; tinted them a shade just a touch unearthly like a creature from the green murky depths of a lagoon.

“So what now?”

Katsuki shrugged his shoulders. “Besides changing into warm clothes, dunno. Probably crash right after. Fucking tired as shit.”

“Man, my dorm is so far,” Izuku grumbled, propping his round cheek up with his fist. “It’s gonna be such a pain walking all the way.”

“Is that your lame ass way of trying to get me to invite you to my dorm for the night?”

Izuku scratched the grouting in between the tile, doing a bad job of  concealing his hidden agenda. “Well…no, I really do live farther than you.”

“You manipulative little shitstain.”

Izuku scooted down the ledge. “You look like you wanna dunk me.”

“What, no, I just wanna talk to you real quick. C’mon here,” he shot a ‘come-hither’ look but not one saturated in sexual energy, no more with an unmistakable energy universally known as ‘I want to strangle you and leave you for dead in the school pool, Izuku’; for good reasons, Izuku stayed on his side of the pool.






“Here,” Katsuki flung a towel and hit Izuku in the face with it.

“Thanks,” said Izuku with a towel face.

Great; now both his towels would smell like chlorine bleach and if he left it for the next weekend to run it to the laundromat then it would foul up the dorm.

Katsuki undressed and went down to his boxer briefs and took the wet clothes into the bathroom to wrung them out over the tub. The  trickle of water hitting the porcelain was ungodly booming. Izuku shuffled in with his wet clothes still clinging to his tight body.

“Dude, get undressed, are you stupid?”

Izuku smiled goofily. “Sorry.” He unbuttoned slowly and Katsuki had no patience for it and ripped his shirt off, Izuku protests being muffled as his head went through the collar. The shirt made a wet splat when it landed in the tub. “Why did you—“

“You smell like bleach, it’s annoying,” he explained it, a half-truth, in reality touching Izuku was giving Katsuki an insane kick in his body like every nerve in his was having a rave at the same time with neon lighting, glow sticks, dubstep, and body sweat. His knuckles ghosted down Izuku’s flat abs; his belly button caved in as he shivered.

Izuku’s eyes watched.

Katsuki dipped his fingers behind the waistband of his shorts and slotted the button through the hole. He unzipped him next, the sound louder than a bullet because the space was so cramped in the  bathroom and the fact they breathed on each other the whole time, both either too scared to break the moment and put a rift in the physical contact steadily growing more frequent, more comfortable, and more assertive.

Izuku’s shorts spilled at his feet; Katsuki had never felt so hot; so turned the fuck on; so fueled up, he could take out an entire city like a bomb.

“You’re like…really cut,” Izuku observed.

“You too.”

“But yours look nicer.” Izuku ran the back of his fingers over the bumpy valley of his abs.

It was Katsuki’s turn to shiver.  “Yours isn’t bad,” he said, then touched the flat run of Izuku’s stomach.

What the fuck was he doing—

Wait, dumb ass question, he knew.— two guys feeling on each other, both reasonably intoxicated to be guided into their desires  like cattle; both now naked enough where they didn’t have to wonder how the other looked naked.

On the same wavelength, apparently, cause Izuku had this expression on him like he was using the real image of Katsuki in dirty places before he blinked himself out of it, and brought his eyes up. They’re fucking green as hell; animal eyes; cat colored; ones you see on the TV screen made from CGI. That might be the most annoying thing about Izuku how god damn vexing his eyes were as it took Katsuki a few seconds from staring into them hear that Izuku was saying something.

“Do we—do we kiss? Or am I really drunk right now?”

Excitement punched him like he’d walked off a 50-foot tall building and exploded on the cement into a million pieces. For someone who had one threeway—they’re not as quite glamorous and sexy like you see in porn or TV; more like two people fucking while one tried to insert themselves (ha) into the mix like a third wheeler—; got blown by two different guys during one of Rikido’s frat party; jerked off by freshmen in the university’s library where they were reaching into the late hours for their project, a kiss was laughably ordinary and plain.

So it was so stupid of him to feel this crazy about kissing a dude….but hey, call Katsuki one crazy fucker.  “Don’t it work that way; football player and the cheerleader? Maybe we should follow tradition.”

Izuku looked at his lips. “Tradition.”


“Can I—do you have mouthwash first? My breath smells.”

Mouthwash; mouthwash, Katsuki thought with a panic, where’s the fucking mouthwash, god damn Eijirou?

Katsuki rifled through the lower cabinets, being so uncool with his hysteria. He needed mouthwash. It was literally life or death.

“Here,” he grabbed it where it someone—Eijirou—shoved it all the way in the back of the cabinet. He handed to Izuku with the plastic seal unbroken.

Izuku reached for it but Katsuki snatched it back and ripped the wrapper off with his teeth.


Izuku smiled. “You’re cute.”

Jesus fucking Christ, no cheerleader should be hot, cute, sweet, mean, wonderful, flexible, smart—that was bullshit. You only got one or two good traits. Katsuki had his athletics and a brain but a personality of cow manure marinated in the sewers during one of L.A.’s heatwave.

“Just drink the damn mouthwash.”

Izuku tipped his head back and sloshed the liquid inside his mouth; cheeks distended. He passed Katsuki the bottle.

Katsuki chugged some and capped the bottle, staring Izuku down in silence; there was no way for anyone, attractive or not, to look good or cool while gargling mouthwash.

Izuku put his hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh.

Katsuki tried acting like he wasn’t in a hurry to kiss Izuku—psst; secret; he was; god was he fucking pumped to kiss this sassy cheerleader right off his sturdy legs.

Izuku nudged him to spit into the sink and turned the water to wash down his spit. He cupped his hand to his mouth and breathed. “Much better. Do you want to smell?”

He shook his head; Izuku could have the taste and smell of rotting pizza and Katsuki would lick right into that mouth 24/7.

“I think your mouth is clean,” Izuku said after a minute passed.

Katsuki leaned over the sink and spat. “What; eager?”

“Are you really gonna make this a competition too; kissing.”

“Maybe. We’re still rivals.”

“I thought we were friends.”


Izuku tapped his chin. “I don’t know if I would kiss my enemy—“

Katsuki interrupted him with a light kiss, pulled back almost taken aback by his own actions. “Fuck.”

“It’s okay. You should ask next time.”

“Can I?”

“Yea.” Fingers walked into his hair while his steeled on Izuku’s waist; they kissed, brief, and looked at one another before they’re kissing again, hotter like they unlocked desperation within one another.

Katsuki moved his hands to the back of Izuku’s thighs and the brilliant fucker got it without a word, and jumped up, putting his strong legs around Katsuki’s waist. Katsuki held him up like that, filling up the bathroom with the sound of their lips smacking together and apart. Katsuki liked having his hair fucked with and Izuku liked fucking it up, yanking it like it owed him money. It was ironic, Katsuki knew people for way less and that he fucked in the bathroom while a party raged on yet here fucking Izuku seemed not wrong but not right. As though Katsuki didn’t have to earn it but wait for it; the moment.

Izuku pulled away; they’re both hard and it wasn’t tough to see it when they’re in their underwear and sort of rubbing on each other. “I wanna stay the night.”


Izuku petted his hair. “In bed.” He turned his face away, shame on it.  “Not sex if that’s okay.”

“It’s okay.”


Katsuki rasped, “Yea. I don’t care if we kiss and that’s it. Just ignore my boner.”

Izuku smiled, pressed their mouths in a manner that would make Katsuki neglecting his own hard-on borderline painful. “Some guys would get mad.”

Katsuki asked, mouths still in that sensual dance; teasing; adding little bolts of electricity to Katsuki enough to get his nerves jerking but low enough where it wouldn’t send him into cardiac arrest. “You walk out on them?”


“Good,” he husked, then cupped Izuku’s jawline, petting his thumb on the bone under the skin. He connected their lips, feeling how plush and soft Izuku’s were.

“We can do other stuff.”








Other stuff was them on Katsuki’s twin mattress, Netflix on his laptop set on the nightstand beside his bed, and both of their cock peeking out of their underwear. Katsuki stroked Izuku slowly, watching the hood slick over the head of his cock. Izuku sucked on his neck and begged with a voice so hot it surprised Katsuki that his ear didn’t melt right off.

“Like that,” Izuku encouraged, caressing Katsuki’s arm as it jerked up and down. “Just like that. Please.”

Katsuki spat into his hand again and went back to pumping Izuku like it was a mouth; Izuku was plenty wet from all the pre-come but Katsuki liked the slick sound, the way Izuku looked red and glossy because of his spit. With anyone else, Katsuki would have his mouth on that cock and guzzling down a load, but Izuku was never anyone.

Izuku thrashed on the bed, arched hard, all the muscles in his body tensing profoundly, and started to pushed on the waistband of his underwear. “Naked. Let’s get naked.”

Katsuki felt pulse in his gut hot like battery acid for all the havoc it was doing on his digestive system, and pushed his face into the space between Izuku’s head and shoulder. “Don’t push it. You said no sex.”

Izuku kissed his hair. “We won’t, I swear. Please just, crap, just, I just want you on top of me. I want you naked. Fuck, I want to feel you.”

“Fuck,” Katsuki cursed, took his hand off of Izuku so they could both shimmy out of their underwear and throw them on the floor.

Izuku checked out his body and exhaled hard, eyes glazed like he went to La-La-Land. “Dang.”

“Dang? Fuckin’ boy scout.”

Izuku tugged Katsuki on top of him. “Rub your cock on me.”


Izuku spread his legs wide and dragged his hands all the way down to Katsuki’s ass and cupped it, forcing Katsuki to press into him. “Do it like you’re fucking me.”

Katsuki moaned, started, balanced on his elbows and rolled his hips like a manic while he watched Izuku’s face. “Shit.”

Izuku whined. “Yes. Feels so good. Do it harder. Do faster. Ha.”

He went hard, banging the headboard into the wall repeatedly. “That good, Izuku, you like it like that?”

“God, yes.”

“It’s gonna be better when we fuck. Gonna be so much better. You’re gonna die.”

Izuku sobbed. “Don’t stop, don’t—god, fuck, Katsuki.”






Katsuki woke up, naked, sweaty, and in addition to another body. His phone went off at six a.m.—morning shift at Ultra’s Tasty.

He tried to slip his arm out from under Izuku’s neck without waking him. “Katsuki?”


“Stay,” he mumbled; eyes still shut against the soft orange morning glow.

He said, “I got work.”

“Call in sick, please, I wanna have the morning with you.”

Katsuki pushed a curl dangling over his eyelashes; his eyes fluttered open, and NASA might be at their university by the next night cause Izuku put twinkling stars in his dumb eyes and it was still stealing if you borrowed stars for the day. “I’ll make some bullshit up and do a few hours. Then come back and we can chill.”

He sighed. “I guess.”

“Just sleep.”

Izuku giggled and fluffed the pillow for maximum comfort; the dregs of sleep latched resolutely to his skin like IRS gunning for tax evasion. “That will be no problem.”

Katsuki crawled over him to get off the bed—after a wet kiss or two; yea, he was one of those guys, liked to be very physical and sexual in private— and rooted through his drawers for clean underwear and jeans.

“Katsuki?” Izuku called, shifted on his side and watching Katsuki dress.


“I like you.”

Katsuki hopped into his jeans, leaving the lapels unzipped, then padded over. You want sonnets; flowers; extravagant dates and dinners, then you went for soft guys like Eijirou. Katsuki wasn’t necessarily soft. He couldn’t be Playdough and fit into your gaps but…He flicked Izuku’s nose and let a half smile go on his mouth as he flinched.  “Cool. Same. Glad we put that shit out there.”

Izuku kissed the finger that flicked him. “You don’t have a romantic bone in your body.”

“Well I guess you’re not that evil and horrible.”

Izuku placed a hand over his heart. “Aw, you’re so sweet.”

Katsuki tugged his work shirt over his head, the fabric wrinkled from where he chunked it on the bedsheet before the game. “Stay naked. I’ll be back for more.”








Aizawa harped on the whistle, “Katsuki, stop making eyes  at the cheerleaders!”

The team started chanting, “F-U-C-K-I-N-G; Katsuki’s getting in those jeans.”

“Is this the Mickey Mouse clubhouse, stop singing and start running.”

Izuku waved sympathetically, mouthing, “Sorry, Katsuki.”

Emi clapped her hands, “Hey, hey, hey.  You can stare at your boyfriend when you’re not cheering. Now give me a front handspring, step out, round off, back handspring, step out, round off,  back handspring, and full twisting layout.”

Izuku sagged with a pout, “Yes, coach.”

“Chop, chop,” she demanded.

Mei said to the girls, “Told you, good dick matters. And the dicking is good.”

Himiko whipped her on the ass with her shirt she’d balled up and discarded halfway through practice; the damp fabric drying under the sun. “You’re so bad, girl.”







Izuku whispered in his ear after the customer walked off, “You know I like the way you spread that mayo.”

Katsuki counted the change then shut the register. “Yea?”

He perched his chin on his shoulder. “So sexy.”

“You should see how I lay my meatballs.”

Izuku asked, “Are we talking about sex or the food?”

“I was talkin’ about work. Fuckin’ nasty ass Izuku,” he scolded, “Fuckin’ thinking about getting my pants. I told you that I’m saving my virginity.”

“You literally texted me last night that you wanted to serve my ass at our future wedding.”

“…If you had your own ass then you wouldn’t call me out like that.”

Izuku shook his head. “You’re ridiculous. I can’t believe I see something in that thick skull.”

“I’m thick.”

He batted him, “Shut up, dork.”

“Juicy. Melt in your mouth. Come down and try Ultra’s Tasty thick ball supreme sub where we load it with the sauce and the meat.”

“Stop advertising your dick as food.”

“Stop eating it like it’s your favorite food.”

Izuku gasped, scandalized.






Twice clapped Katsuki on the back as he shuffled through the tight hallway, “Big Papa’s here.”

Somewhere, each member of his team sounded off, “Papa’s in the house”, trying to compete with the speakers. Katsuki walked through neon lights, girls in skin-tight clothes and large eyebrows, guys drenched in sweat and beer from doing a keg stand, to find Izuku under the same neon swallowing them all. Ochako pressed her back to his front; he hugged her.

Katsuki watched as the two parted and threw their arms over their head, dancing.

Izuku hadn’t seen him.

It was a good thing; watching him with free lenses.

They sang the lyrics to each other, showing the same emotion felt by the singer through their faces.


If I drink enough

I can taste your lipstick, I can lay down next to you

But it's all in my head

If I drink enough I swear that I will wake up next to you


Purple neon splashed down the bridge of Izuku’s nose as he spotted him. Izuku set the beer he had to the side and led him to the writhing bodies.

The track lapsed to the next one; Izuku slotted their fingers.


She said "hello mister, pleased to meet ya"

I wanna hold her, I wanna kiss her

She smelled of daisies, she smelled of daisies

She drive me crazy, she drive me crazy


“Wanna blow this joint?” Katsuki asked.








On the speakers, distant at lease to Katsuki’s perspective who had some important business to attend to in the form of one hot cheerleader sucking his face behind the bleachers, Yamada hyped up the crowd in the bleachers, “I dunno about you guys, but I am excited for today’s game. Last year, on this very field the Bulldogs lost  their shot to nationals to Kamino’s Vultures. A whopping fifty to thirty-two. Now ain’t that some salt in the wound, but I got a good feeling tonight. The Bulldogs are gonna pull through. Now let’s cheer our freaking heart out for U.A’s Bulldogs!”

Izuku pulled back, lips red as cherries, in long sleeves and pants for the fall’s cooler temperature drop. “That’s you, big guy.”

Katsuki squeezed the sold thigh coiled around him like a python; god the awesome benefits of dating a cheerleader. Izuku could hold himself up without Katsuki’s help. Could take Katsuki contorting him around like a balloon animal and having him in all crazy ways—knees to his ears while Katsuki splayed his wide hands on his ass cheeks and spread them, eating Izuku until he came on his tongue; Izuku riding him, reserve cowgirl style, bouncing off his thighs like a champ until Katsuki became a bumbling mess under him, clawing, moaning, begging like he had never before.

He was trouble, this cheerleader, a lot of good and a lot of bad done up in pretty wrapping paper. Really, Katsuki did the universe a solid by taking this wild thing under his wing and off the streets. God knew what would happen to the world if Izuku went out, pretty, charming, and powerful.

A boom started as the marching band walked on the field, and tutted on their instruments.

Five minutes; they got a little time for kissing before it was game time for them both. “You gonna cheer for me?”

Izuku bumped their noses. “For you? Always.”

Katsuki dragged his hand down the fleece material of Izuku’s uniform, fingers not knowing the frost in the air for the moment. “Do the ‘Kacchan’ cheer.”

He laughed, “It’s so dirty. I can’t.”


“If you’re good, I’ll perform the cheer for you. In private.”