Going to this party was the worst idea Katsuki's had in his entire life. He's not even sure why he did. He doesn't like people, doesn't like noise, and doesn't like being out late- what had Shitty Hair said that got him agreeing to show up to a dirty house party like this?
He hadn't been there for five minutes before people were pushing alcohol at him. Hell, half of his friends were fucking wasted when he got there. Pinky was hanging off of Roundface, the Electric Dumbass was being rejected by Ears yet again, and was that Soy Sauce chatting up Invisibitch? Tail doesn't look too happy about it.
This shit sucks.
At the ten minute mark he's ready to leave. That's also when Shitty Hair shoves a drink in his hand once and for all with a big smile. "Just a soda, bro, I know you don't wanna drink. Poured it myself."
He's grateful for that at least. Even if he doesn't like to drink sodas, either. Bad for his quirk. He sips at his drink and the redhead bumps their shoulders together with a grin. "Relax, dude! It's a party, not a funeral. Everyone's already wasted. It's not like they'll remember anything that happens."
"That's probably the most alarming thing you've ever fucking said to me." Katsuki stares blankly at his companions bright face. "What the hell is the point of coming to a party if you're not gonna remember it? What's the point of doing anything if you won't be able to?"
"I mean… It's fun while it lasts?" Kirishima says with an awkward laugh, looking away as he sips his own drink. "The music and dancing and stuff I mean. And… People do usually come to hook up." He gestures to Mr. Threw the Match and Deku making bedroom eyes at each other, faces flushed as they lean into each other's space where his stupid childhood friend is pressed against the wall. He feels like he should look away.
"And I know it's not your scene. I just thought, y'know, it could be! Trying new things and all of that. We're gonna be too busy for the teenage experience in our last year, so why not live it up now? A last hurrah before we gotta buckle down for herodom." Kirishima is leading him through the small crowd of people, from the kitchen to the living room of someone's house. He doesn't even know whose it is, actually.
"Hey, Unbreakable!" Someone calls, and it's a face he didn't particularly want to see. It's that damn third-year from the other hero school. He doesn't even bother trying to remember his name. He's someone with a lying smile, he doesn't deserve his grace. He's mildly annoyed Kirishima seems to be on alright terms with him.
"Shindou! What's up, my man!" He comes to grip his hand, bumping their shoulders together amiably with a pat on the other's back. He almost spills his drink. "Thanks for inviting us. Things were kinda starting to drag on at UA."
"No problem. I figured some of you might need an opportunity to unwind. Or an excuse." Shindou smiles knowingly at Katsuki. Katsuki feels slightly nauseous, and sets down his drink as he sits on the couch. He intends to sit the conversation out, but the older man doesn't let that happen. He sits on the armrest while Kirishima sits on the other side of Katsuki, effectively cornering him into a tiny, cramped space, and he's feeling claustrophobic before they even open their mouths.
Neither of them speak directly to him. Kirishima keeps Shindou's attention, diverting him from Katsuki once again when the conversation steers back into including him. Katsuki makes a mental note to say one nice thing to him sometime in the next year. Maybe when they graduate.
Music stops, starts, and stops again, countless times as songs blend together in the hazy background of the house party. Katsuki's bored. He closes his eyes a few times, even, until Kirishima subtly nudges his shoulder to keep him from dozing off. He thinks the other is just proud of him for not getting in a fight yet.
"Hold that thought, I'mma be right back." Kirishima grins as he stands with a bit of a sway, but makes his way to the kitchen. Katsuki watches him go before remembering his own drink, on the other side of Shindou.
"Oi. Hand me mine."
"Certainly, your highness." Shindou is as sarcastic as his face is filled with a mocking sunshine as he passes his drink, now a little flat. Shindou notices. "What are you drinking? I can get you some more."
"I'm not letting you fuckin' pour my drink, creep." Katsuki grunts out with an accusing glare up at him, taking a sip as he spreads out on the couch now that his friend is gone. He wonders absently if Shindou is the gross son of a bitch that reuses his solo cups. He can just barely taste a hint of something underneath flat coke and plastic. Shindou's smile grows.
"I take it you're not the sex for leisure type, then." He says, and Katsuki knows it's specifically to make him almost choke on his drink. He glares daggers at his annoying fucking, almost familiar face and looks at the kitchen. He wants Kirishima back here again.
"It's not your damn business."
"Yeah, but a guy can wonder." Shindou hums in amusement, which Katsuki doesn't like, specifically because he knows for a fact that he is still dating that blonde telescope bitch. She was alright, he guesses. Kind of useless, but he's downright insidious.
"You're disgusting. Stop talking to me."
"Stop replying." Shindou says as he turns to face him a little more on the couch, elbow propped on his knee with his chin in his hand. "When a cute boy replies, guys like me could get the wrong idea, you know."
Katsuki only has a quarter of his drink left and it gets thrown at him. The people that saw gasp as they turn, drawing more attention to him. Katsuki stands and makes sure the cup is completely over the top of his head before dropping it, where it bounces off his skull and to the floor and proceeds to roll under a nearby armchair.
"You looked thirsty." He says bluntly while turning on his heel. This guy isn't even worth the fight. He's getting Kirishima and his friends and they're going home. They should have been on the way out when he was coming in, anyways.
There's some laughter, some cursing, a lot of uproar from the living room. Kirishima almost runs into him with his drink as they turn around the same couple making out. He looks definitely drunk, but still sober enough to function. He's clearly about to ask what happened when Katsuki answers, "That guy is a little bitch and we're leaving. Get the others."
Eijirou sighs. They both know this is the only way the night could have ended, truthfully, so there isn't an argument. The squad has an unspoken rule of sticking together, which is partially to blame for the poor Lyft driver that has to drive back six teenagers: one sober, three drunk, and two crossfaded to high hell. Katsuki sits in the front away from the others and tries to cool off with the window rolled down.
The drive back to the dorms doesn't take too long, but sneaking past the fence is always a little risky. The best way to do it is get Sparky and Chubby Cheeks to work together and float them over a temporarily unpowered part of the wall, but there's no way they're going to be able to do that in their current, sorry state, so they opt for a tree's assistance. It still works. Sort of. There are a few close calls with Pikachu, who is particularly fucked up right now, but he manages to find his balance at the last moment. Katsuki expected this. There is also a close call involving himself, and Eijirou has to catch him. Katsuki did not expect this.
"Ahaha, Blasty's drunk too!" Pinky giggles too loudly. Her girlfriend tries to shush her, but to no avail. Katsuki shakes his head and pushes out of Eijirou's arms to stumble to his feet, but before he can even argue there's a light shining on them. Katsuki winces.
"Busted." Spiderman Knockoff says.
"Bruh moment." Dunce face echoes.
"What do you think you're doing." Their teacher's voice drones in from a few feet away. "Don't answer. I know you're sneaking in."
"Why th'fuck'd you ask then my guy?" Three separate hands slam over Kaminari's mouth. Aizawa seems even more irritated than he already was and curls his lip.
"I'm not sure either. I should have anticipated the depth of your bad decision making skills." He shakes his head. "Get back to your dorms. Separate rooms, all of you." A pointed look at the two girls. "We'll deal with you and the consequences of your choices tomorrow, when you're properly hungover and regretting it almost as you should."
"Yes, sir." Kirishima, the most sober of the bunch, nods as he starts leading Kaminari, the most inebriated. Sero comes up on his other side and the girls cling to each other as they head towards the dorms. Katsuki tries to move his feet but feels groggy.
Aizawa watches the weak ambulation of his classmates across the green and to the dormitory's door, which isn't that long of a walk, but it feels like it's taking forever for Katsuki. His feet aren't moving right, he's too warm, his mouth feels dry. He hears a sigh from his right before an arm wraps around his waist, pulling his over shoulders.
"Really, Bakugou? You too?" Aizawa scolds him quietly as they cross the threshold, pulling him to the elevator and waiting for it to come back down when the others are done and on their floors. "You don't seem like the party type."
"M'not." He says, and it's all he can think to say. The elevator doors open again after a few minutes and they both step in. Katsuki watches their crazy, warped, metallic reflection in the doors as they go up. He feels kind of nauseous because of it.
"Clearly you are, or you wouldn't have gone. And gotten drunk on a school night, no less." He mutters disapprovingly under his breath as he guides him to Katsuki's hall, opening the door to his room with his master key and helping him inside as well.
Katsuki clutches at him as he stumbles inside. He isn't sure why, but there's a dull panic in the back of his head, telling him that something isn't right- but he's too busy being distracted by how hot he is. He's barely wearing anything- a tank, some baggy jeans and his chain- but he thinks he legitimately might be sweating. He has barely the presence of mind to close the door behind them as they go in.
"Bakugou?" His tone sounds a little cautious as he tries to pull away from the student to take a look. Katsuki clings to him, fingers catching lamely onto the sleeve of his shirt. He knows his face is red, he's breathing a little heavy. He can recognise these odd things going on with his body, but he can't do the final job and put the pieces together. He doesn't know what to do, what to say. Aizawa examines him closely for a moment and then pushes him to sit on the edge of the bed. "Just sleep, Bakugou. You'll feel better in the morning."
No, Katsuki's brain supplies. That's not right. I'm not drunk. I just had a soda! This shouldn't be going on, what's- "No," His voice sounds whiny even to himself. Small, like a child, with his hands curled into the fabric over Aizawa's stomach. His teacher seems baffled and tries to pry them off of himself, but they stay strong. His hands are so much larger than his own. "No, don't… Sensei,"
Neither of them know what Katsuki is trying to say as they struggle slightly. The teacher is clearly trying not to hurt or upset him further, but it's no use. "Bakugou, let go of me. Now." He instructs, voice commanding and serious.
"No." Katsuki says stubbornly as he looks up at the older man, chest heaving slightly, as if there more of a scuffle between the two of them.
"I'm getting you some water." Aizawa says blankly.
"Stay with me," Katsuki replies immediately. He feels slightly relieved that he got that much out. It took forever to get through the cotton in his head. His fingers tighten on his shirt as urgency slips into his voice. "For a few minutes. Until I fall sleep."
"Bakugou…" Aizawa says sternly, a troubled furrow in his brow, the only thing standing out from his otherwise even expression.
"You're m'teacher. Everyone else's already in their room. Don't… wanna be 'lone." Holy fuck, that took so much effort, and he's still slurred. His panic is increasing, coming across more as a plead for company than a call for help. Indecision flashes over his features.
"… Just for a few minutes." He says, then gently pushes at Katsuki's shoulders. "Get settled. Don't expect a bedtime story."
He lies down and somehow, that makes him smile. His hand stays loosely tangled into his clothing, making Aizawa have to lean down with his hands on the bed to keep from lowering himself, too. His teacher seems irritated as he sits facing away from him, but on the edge of the bed, and Katsuki just lies breathing in his bed as silence fills the room.
They don't say anything. Occasionally, Katsuki readjusts his grip on his shirt. He's almost dozing off several times before a wave of heat resurges, threatening to set him alight from the inside out. It's one of those crests that he pushes himself up with a clumsy hand on the headboard, then Aizawa's shoulder, enough to reach for his shirt.
"Bakugou. What are you- Bakugou." His teacher pinches the bridge of his nose and looks away. Katsuki groans as he struggles with his shirt, pulling it up with limbs that feel like they're still tied down from the last sports festival. He needs something. He needs to cool down.
"Hot." Is all he says before he feels hands on his sides, pushing the shirt back down. It's not what he wanted but those hands feel even hotter but in a pleasant way, the way that sends a shiver up his spine and make him want more. He arches his back with a hand falling behind him on the bed, nudging Aizawa's touch onto his bare skin. The teacher pulls his hands back too quickly.
"That's enough. Lie down." Aizawa still towers over him as they both sit up on his bed. He doesn't look happy at all, and it breaks Katsuki's heart a little. He's a pretty good teacher. He would even willingly admit he looks up to him in some aspects. They're close.
But not close enough.
Or, that's what his body thinks. He assumes that's what it's thinking- it's hard for him to tell if there's even a thought at all when he leans into him clumsily, almost knocking them both off of the bed as he presses their lips together. He gains purchase with a hand on his thigh and they both forget to breathe for a solid second, Katsuki's lips moving against his slowly before Aizawa's mouth begins to respond. He feels the hand that was on the bed leave, but it isn't placed anywhere on him. He whines.
That's what does it. Aizawa pushes Katsuki away with a hand on his chest and their faces are both burning as they look at each other with matching levels of disorientation. Katsuki whines again and pulls at his shirt, hand still clumsily resting on the inside of his thigh as he tries to connect their lips again.
"You're drunk," Aizawa breathes against him as Katsuki tries to lean back slightly. The older man follows. Katsuki doesn't know how to feel about it, but his heart thrums with excitement.
"I need you," Katsuki whispers back. That's not the full phrase. I need your help, I need your advice, I need you to stop this. Aizawa can't read his mind and touches his face, holding his jaw almost tenderly in a calloused palm. His skin feels white hot, touch going straight to the marrow of his bones as he feels his back hit the bed. He can't connect the dots.
His teacher groans, deep and manly, rumbling in Katsuki's chest and he can't find it in himself to be anything but satisfied by hearing it. He wants to hear more. He wants to feel the sound his pleasure makes when Katsuki's hands are flat against his back, like they will be when Aizawa is pounding him into his mattress. His addled brain is really taking this scenario and running with it, but that's how it's going anyways.
Aizawa's hands don't touch Katsuki. He barely has the presence of mind to register that they're gripping the pillow on either side of his head. All that matters is that they're not on him, what he wants, what he needs, is to feel his grip on his wrists or his hips or his waist or anywhere he's willing to touch. His own hands are pulling at Aizawa's shirt desperately as his legs part lazily for the leg the other uses for leverage.
Katsuki's hips make their own decision, rocking against his thigh clumsily as he keens and his partner sighs back in accordance, one of his hands finally going to rest on his waist. Katsuki arches his back up into the contact and parts his lips against his, tongues meeting for wet kisses of barely contained desire.
He touches him like he's glass. Something in his chest loves it, but the heat in his stomach is crying out in neglect. Katsuki wishes he had the luxury of time to enjoy this as his fingers slide along the curve of his back, underneath the shirt, and Katsuki's pants feel too tight. He bucks up against his leg again. "A-Aizawa," He whispers in between licks into his mouth. "Take it off." It's too hot to stay clothed.
Aizawa shushes him quietly when he begins to whimper and squirm, indulging him as he carefully pulls his shirt over his chest and off his arms. The cold air hits Katsuki's chest and he feels alive for the first time with his hands above his head, chest exposed, cock rutting occasionally against the man he looks up to probably the most in the world.
"Touch me. Touch me, please, shit-," Katsuki gasps with his eyes barely focused enough to look into Aizawa's. He knows he's having an effect on the man. He looks as hungry as Katsuki feels as the blond takes his hand and sets it on his chest with an emphatic rock against him. "Need you. Need you to touch me. Need your fucking cock, Aizawa-,"
"Shut up," The older man growls as he presses his knee against his crotch. Katsuki bites his lip and closes his eyes for a moment before opening them to see Aizawa pulling at his own shirt, sitting up enough to tug off the long sleeves and scarf to expose muscles only a career in hero work could carve. He moves to tug Katsuki's thighs over his, planting himself firmly between his legs. "Gonna be the death of me, problem child."
"I'll be good." Katsuki whispers as he rocks downward and a smile stretches across his face when he feels Aizawa's matching hardness slide pleasantly against his ass. Aizawa holds his hips and guides him through it before he's reaching for his belt to pull it open. It's deposited somewhere off to the side. He doesn't care where.
When Aizawa pulls down those baggy pants, he takes his time. Even as Katsuki drips onto his own stomach, he merely drags his fingers along every inch revealed, pressing a kiss to the inside of his knee as his hand squeezes the muscle of his thigh. Katsuki's lip is going to be bruised to fuck tomorrow, he's sure, focused on his teacher as he pulls off his boxers in a similar fashion.
Here he lies, naked aside from the gold glinting around his neck and wrist in the minimal light of his room. Aizawa looks down at him and breathes out heavily as his fingers catch the chain against his skin. Katsuki's body writhes fruitlessly for contact, only to be answered by his own choked sob.
"Lubricant." He says with a gravelly voice that no one should be able to use. Katsuki blindly reaches out beside his bed, into the bedside table, fingers landing on the stupid little travel sized packet of lube Aizawa himself had distributed for their sex ed class. There's a twitch against him when Aizawa sees it, taking it from his hands and tearing at it with his teeth.
Kat spreads his legs with little prompting. They're both trying to hurry up now, it seems, Aizawa not waiting for the substance to warm before pressing his fingers against his hole. He leans down and kisses him again, stopping any complaining in their tracks as Katsuki hums.
He's never done this before. At all. He's never even considered putting something inside of him, but Aizawa's fingers go in with no resistance and it feels like it's natural. He pulls them in and out, stroking at his walls and licking at his lip and Katsuki forgets a time when Aizawa wasn't fingering him, thighs twitching with every careful avoidance of his prostate. It's always been like this, right? Cock smearing precum against his lower stomach while his fingers stretch him out more with every thrust? This is how he was meant to be.
Katsuki smiles hazily when Aizawa pulls away and unzips his pants. His mouth is watering, throat feeling tight as he watches that zipper go down and god, the bulge in his pants is fucking huge. His hole twitches just at the thought of it being inside of him. Aizawa saves him from wondering for too long as he pulls his briefs down and his cock bobs between the two of them.
"Put it in," Katsuki licks his lips, voice hoarse as he watches the sexy tremor in Aizawa's abs when he does so. He reaches down and presses two fingers inside of himself, completely relaxed as he presses them in and out and doesn't even register the dry drag of skin against skin. Aizawa slides his lubed hand over his shaft, making Katsuki shiver when he pulls his fingers out. "Can't wait anymore."
That's the final straw. Aizawa pulls his hips towards him, dragging Katsuki along the bed to impale him on his cock- all in one go. Katsuki's mouth opens in silent surprise, gasping at how full he feels, corners of his lips turning up as he twists his fingers in the sheets. He thinks he might be drooling. It hurts beautifully, it's the best, worst thing he's ever felt, and he's not even embarrassed at the prick of tears in his eyes because of it.
Aizawa doesn't let him adjust at all to the sensations. He pushes into him just to pull Katsuki up, using his more or less limp body as a fucktoy for his own pleasure while his cock lies abandoned against him. Katsuki doesn't even think of touching it. He's already overwhelmed as is, watching his stomach for the bulge he's sure will come when Aizawa presses all the way in, but he can't even focus enough to recognise if it is or isn't there.
"Disappointed in you." He growls as he digs his nails into his hip. "Thought you were better than this. Thought you were better than-," Aizawa grunts and lifts one of Katsuki's legs, hooking it over his shoulder and turning him slightly on his side. The position gives him just a little bit more depth, and a different angle, and when he thrusts in hard enough to make the headboard hit the wall he finally hits that spot that the student has been longing for. Katsuki's aware of nothing but the feeling of him in his guts and the sound of his voice, the way it feels like a hand round his cock in and of itself, "-coming back drunk, begging me to fuck you. More than you already do. How am I supposed to make a fucking hero out of a whore?"
"I'll be good, I'm-," Katsuki tries to hiccup, but doesn't even know what he was trying to say.
"A slut. Every fucking day, you torture me." Aizawa growls as he attacks the side of Katsuki's neck, kissing roughly along his racing pulse and bending Katsuki in ways he's sure wouldn't even be possible were he not as fit as he was. "Nasty attitude. Begging me to put you in your place."
"Yes, sir," Katsuki moans as he grips the frame of his bed and his fingers dig into his pillow. He's not sure why the hell he's agreeing. He's definitely not trying to get Aizawa's attention daily, he isn't that desperate, but knowing that his teacher looks at him like that whether he likes it or not has him feeling like he's finally getting what he deserves.
He feels experienced fingers wrap around his cock, stroking in time with his movements, and Katsuki wails in pleasure, only to be cut short with a hand on the back of his head. His face is shoved into his pillow so firmly he almost can't breathe and he loves it, adores it, every second of it, the helplessness and Aizawa's strong hand controlling him so easily.
"Quiet, Bakugou," He hisses into his ear and the heat coils in his stomach threateningly. "Your classmates might hear you."
Katsuki's toes curl as he tries to fuck onto Aizawa's cock as much as he can, pathetic and quivering. He cums into Aizawa's perfect hand, clenching around him as he bites into his pillow so roughly the fabric threatens to tear. He gasps for breath and doesn't get the chance to catch it because he's just speeding up, the wet sound of skin on skin and Katsuki's mess the only thing audible on the whole damn floor, probably.
In just a few more minutes he feels heat spilling inside of him. He can't even move to react. His body feels numb, his dick twitching weakly being the only movement. He's struggling to even stay awake as the room fades away and comes back into intense sharpness inconsistently. He feels nauseous.
Aizawa's breath is warm on his shoulder when he pulls out and catches his own breath, propping himself up with his forearm by his head. They're silent outside of the their breathing. Katsuki feels the once again tender touch of his hand against his jaw and doesn't fight against his head being turned towards his, forcing his sluggish body to meet him halfway as they kiss again. Katsuki's hand raises to rest against his arm, looking at him sleepily when he pulls away.
"We should have done this sooner." Katsuki says, unable to stop himself, and realises it's the truth. A lot of things he's said tonight were the truth. He feels gross and sticky, and he can feel cum dripping over his thigh as he curls into where Aizawa is settling beside him.
"I'm glad you're feeling good about it." His tone is almost sour enough to taste. Katsuki frowns and slides his hand up his toned stomach, to his side, slotting their legs together and pulling him into his dead weight feeling.
"Talk about it in the morning." Katsuki tells his shoulder. There's a pregnant pause, but he's not afraid that he'll leave. Not in the slightest. And he's correct- Aizawa simply shifts to get comfortable in his student's ruined sheets, one arm under the pillow and the other around Katsuki.
They sleep soundly, undisturbed.