Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Katsuki sighs, watching as his cigarette burns slowly. He’s far more interested in that than wasting his energy paying any mind to the umpteenth argument he was having in less than a week with his husband over the phone.

Katsuki is tired of this routine. He’s fucking tired of hearing the same words from Eijirou over and over, of hearing him practically begging for new beginnings, and his incessant quest to win back Katsuki’s attention, when all he wants is to be left alone.

It’s not that their marriage isn’t good. Eijirou is an incredible and energetic partner, he’s always willing to do things for other people’s sakes, but as of late, Katsuki has started to feel restless. It’s like he’s been backed into a corner, nothing ever changes, and it’s been like that for years now. It’s like everything’s being handed to him on a silver platter, there’s no real challenge, and no fucking heat anymore.

He doesn’t even dare to get into the topic of sex either, it’s just hard to admit that the spark is just no longer there.

And it might sound like he’s being the asshole, that he’s not even trying, but this couldn’t be farther from the truth. He did try, he’s been fucking trying.

Katsuki actually did his best to change the situation, up until he became tired of investing time and energy into things he couldn’t see any improvement. It takes two to make some things work, unfortunately. One of his long-time friends, Camie, once told him that in a relationship, if the desire was no longer there, the best course of action was to go for a divorce. She also told him that day that she could no longer see the spark in his eyes whenever he talked about his husband.

Of course, a divorce. Katsuki knew it was a fair advice, but he didn’t really know how to handle it. He had no idea how to face the man who had been by his side for what it felt like an eternity, and just up and fucking leave.

Whether it was cowardice, or he was just a complete asshole, maybe a mixture of both to be fucking honest, but Katsuki figured that maybe taking a detour could help to get himself out of that shitty situation without the need of taking such extreme measures. Thus, he’d decided to focus on his career as a teacher, and on his goal to teach abroad. If he got more awareness of his own surroundings, maybe that would help ease the burden, and maybe he could tackle the issue of his crumbling marriage with a clear head.

But right now, he’s just fucking exhausted. With another deep sigh, he lets his cigarette fall to the floor, and stomps on it with the tip of his shoe, before he says, “Whatever, Eijirou. I gotta go now.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer either, pulling the phone away from his ear and clicking it off, he slides it into his pocket and lights another cigarette; the thin wisps of smoke dance through the air as he wills the nicotine to soothe his mind, although unfortunately, it does very little to help.

Katsuki truly doesn’t have the energy to fix this mess that the two of them created over the years. It’s not an exaggeration to say that even the weight of his phone in his pocket is irritating, as it only serves as a reminder of his husband's final words before he hung up on him. Fuck, maybe he should follow Deku’s dumb advice and go see a therapist, or something. This shit’s all fucked up.

He doesn’t know how much longer he spends in the smoking area for the university staff, but it was enough to have at least two more cigarettes in a row, crushing each of them angrily against the wall before disposing of the butts in the sandbox in the corner, including the one he’d chucked on the floor to stomp on earlier in frustration. He could be a lot of things, but he wasn’t a fucking slob who leaves his trash around, thank you very much.

God, Katsuki wanted to just grab his jacket from the teachers’ lounge and ditch his duties for the day in favor of going out for a few drinks with his good old friend Shinsou, who at least would listen to his frustrations without trying to solve anything, or even Camie with her sleazy ass counselor energy, whose advice were almost always useless, save for the rare occasions where she was right. But his professionalism would never allow it, so Katsuki just sighs, and pulls himself together to face his new class. He’s been teaching Ethics in the Law department for a few years now.

No matter how fucked up his life could be, Katsuki would always put his career first, even if people thought it unlikely that he would be fully committed, given his rebellious attitude and foul mouth. Well, don’t fucking judge a book by its damn cover, or however that stupid saying goes.

And speaking of which, it’s already time for his lecture with the extras from the first year, who are still clueless to how chaotic college life can get. Katsuki remembers all too well his excitement at being admitted into one of Japan’s top universities, the thrill only lasted a week before he found himself swamped in endless assignments that turned him into a fucking zombie for years.

Katsuki quickly stops by the teachers’ office and picks up his folder with the roll call and other details he must go over with his students for the rest of the semester, and of course he takes his trademark dry humor with him, fully intent on haunting the lives of the poor unwary freshmen. 

When he gets to his class, most of the seats are already occupied, which is surprising given there’s still about five minutes until the lecture starts. Katsuki leans with his hip half resting against the desk, taking the opportunity to review his notes before he starts with the introductions, and all that bullshit he hates about every first meeting with his students. Katsuki never cared much for it, as he hardly ever memorizes anyone’s name anyway unless they made an impression or managed to stand out throughout the semester, but people often seemed interested, and usually paid attention to him.

The list of students this semester is ridiculously long, but it probably won’t hold up until the end, as many students often couldn’t handle going all the way through an entire course with Katsuki as a teacher, and he takes pride in that. 

He finally decides it’s time to get started when he’s done checking the list, and as he’s closing his folder, a glimpse of white and red catches his eye.

A very young man with dual-colored hair steps through the threshold and makes a beeline to the back of the class, slumping into a seat in the corner next to the wall. Katsuki couldn’t get a proper glimpse of his face because the hood plus the long bangs were concealing his features, but he was certain that the boy was one of the most unusual people in his class.

Katsuki deliberately makes a point of looking at his watch with an exaggerated gesture, and turns his attention to the boy in the back with a raised brow, clearing his throat to let him know that the teacher has noticed his being late, and that he’s not pleased by it.

“So since the last of you has arrived, hopefully, we can now start with the introductions.” Katsuki doesn’t bother hiding his sharp grin, as his comment gets a few chuckles from some of the students who are able to pick up on the very obvious jab. However, as he looks at his target, the boy who has just sauntered into his classroom seems completely unfazed by the negative attention he’s getting.

“Well, my name is Bakugou Katsuki and starting today I’ll be your Ethics teacher.” He moves away from the desk over to the whiteboard, writing his name down in his neat handwriting, which’s always surprising to the idiots who like to judge him by his appearance and attitude.

He tosses the marker into the tray and turns back, keeping a watchful eye to gather enough information about what kind of spirit that class might display over the course of the semester. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be any troublesome kids who might drive him crazy, save for that one kid with exotic dye job, who had already started off on the wrong foot the second Katsuki laid eyes on him, unable to read anything on that deadpan face that seemed to give away nothing. He just hopes he wasn’t one of those assholes who only attended lectures to make a fuss, and make his fucking job a lot more difficult.

Katsuki is 100% positive that he is one of the best teachers at this faculty, and it’s completely outrageous that someone could be so fucking disinterested without even listening to an entire lecture of his.

He’s aware that Ethics has always been a highly controversial subject, which is fucking wrong, since society as a whole couldn’t even exist without ethics, but Katsuki was there to show what he stood for. And one of his missions as a teacher was to make those extras think, to really reflect on where they fit into the world, what their values were, why they questioned so much, and to make them question even more . Fuck, he was very passionate about his work, so of course he wasn’t going to have anyone dismiss it so carelessly.

“I always dedicate the first day to give you a brief introduction to the subject, I’ll explain to you how the evaluation system will work, which you’ll find in these sheets I’m handing out to each of you, along with a list of books that you ought to read during the semester, they’ll serve as base for the debates that we’ll be holding starting next week.”

He surveys the class as he sits down and grabs the roll call. That’s something he always liked to do the first time meeting a class, call up each student by name just to get a good look at their faces. He knew that he could simply hand out the sheets going to each seat, or he could have them passed around, but the point was to make them work for it. Eijirou once said that he was probably the students’ worst nightmare, and he would always take that title gladly if, by the end of the semester, he could rest assured that he’s changed the lives of at least half a dozen kids.

“As I call your name, you can come to my desk to collect your material, and before you kids start complaining, just thank me for not making you write it all down on the first day of class.”

As he started to call up the students, he notices that his latecomer was one of the last ones all the way down the letter T. Todoroki Shouto was his name. 

Not that the information was of any value for his class, but he was rather interested in taking a closer look at his face. He couldn’t help but wonder who in their right mind had hair like that after their twenties, but to be fair, that was none of his business. Katsuki himself knew that he had his own rebellious phase back in the day, and he wouldn’t be a hypocrite to judge a young man for his aesthetic choices. He’d his own hair dyed jet black once, and shaved on the sides, he spent much of his youth wearing black eyeshadow, too, and also got his tattoos around the same time, a few traditional Japanese designs that he was quite fond of. 

His tattoos sometimes drew attention, of course, as they were still slightly frowned upon sometimes, especially in a prestigious place like that, full of snotty bastards who thought they were better than everyone else. It was all the more reason to never keep Katsuki from having his sleeves rolled up, showing his arms in class with them on display in any hot day. They didn’t take away from his credibility as a teacher, he was still one of the best out there, and he would be damned the day he had to lower his head, and accept any bullshit from anyone, or had to conceal who he truly was. 

“Todoroki Shouto.” He calls him up next, and pays close attention.

The boy braces his hands on his desk to slowly push himself up, pulling off his hood, perhaps as a sign of respect, before walking towards the teacher without really looking at him. When he halts next to his desk, Katsuki notices how tall he is, maybe the same height as him. 

“Here, Todoroki.” He offers him the sheet, and Todoroki grabs it instantly, but Katsuki keeps his hold tight for a moment longer, so that the boy can’t turn his back on him so quickly. “Everything you need to know about our classes is here, including the time schedule,” he quips with his brow raised, and smirks defiantly, as scarlet eyes search the other’s face. Even without the hood, most of his left side is hidden behind long bangs, so he can only really see one of his eyes—and even that is unusual about him, some sort of brownish-grey color that you don’t usually see around.

Katsuki can’t help but notice he’s quite pretty, a chiseled face with soft features, small mouth with plump lips. There’s a certain air of mystery that seems to surround him, too, and it stirs something akin to curiosity inside Katsuki. He hasn’t felt something like that in a hot minute. It’s kind of exciting. 

Todoroki isn’t looking him in the eyes anymore though, his attention is drawn to the shiny gold band on Katsuki’s left hand, his wedding ring. He hasn’t thought about it for so long, over the years it just became like a part of him, but all of a sudden, it feels like the stupid thing is heavy and burning on his skin, even though there’s absolutely nothing unusual about it. He’s fucking married, of course he’d be wearing a wedding band.

Before he realizes, a stupid thought crosses his mind, and he finds himself considering slipping it into his pocket, or just leaving it in the glove compartment next week. He immediately catches himself, bewildered at the stupidity of his own fucking brain. What the fuck was that all about?

God, he must be fucking tired, that’s the only explanation. What the fuck, really?

“You can go now, Todoroki.” He grumbles, waving him off, still nonplussed.

No, seriously. What the fuck?

—

Shouto is a mess, he’s so stressed out, and he’s late for his first lecture, too, as he missed his alarms, sleeping through them all. That’s just great. He doesn’t even think about it as he slips into the hoodie he’d borrowed from his boyfriend a few weeks ago, without even putting a shirt underneath, while he has his phone pressed to his ear, trying to bargain with his father. The argument drags on as he jumps into his father’s secretary’s car, and he keeps trying for at least half the drive to college, frustrated as all hell as he hangs up having accomplished nothing. His father just won’t budge, and it’s so fucking annoying.

“Shouto, seriously, you just gotta talk to him,” Keigo says, as he pulls up at the campus entrance. “Peacefully.”

Shouto rolls his eyes.

Takami Keigo is like his old man’s right hand, or secretary, whatever. He’s been around pretty much forever, and does a bit of everything. He sometimes drives Shouto around when he doesn’t feel like driving, or in this case, because Enji has confiscated his fucking car. He’s a good listening ear, and usually offers good advice, too. Shouto likes Keigo, but right now, hearing him say that just makes his blood boil. He doesn’t want to talk to his father. He just wants his stupid old man to back out, and stop being so unreasonable, and such a control freak.

“That’s just ridiculous!” Shouto argues. “How does he think I’m supposed to get by without any money? He can’t just cancel my damn credit card like that, Keigo! That’s fucked up!”

“Well, yeah, I hear you, and that’s fair, but if you apologized—”

“I’m not apologizing to him, Keigo! It wasn’t even my fault!” Shouto cuts him off. He can feel his mood souring by the second. He yanks the door open, but before he steps out of the car, a brilliant idea crosses his mind and he turns back to the blond. “But maybe you could talk to him.”

“Me?!” Keigo splutters. “Why me?”

“Because he listens to you, Keigo…” Shouto puts on his best pleading face, eyes all soft, and lips jutted into a pout. It almost never fails. “Please?”

“I don’t know, Shouto…” The blond averts his eyes. “He seemed pretty determined, I can’t just cross him like that.”

Shouto rolls his eyes again and huffs, dropping all pretence. 

“Oh, thanks for nothing, assistant. ” 

He finally gets out of the car, not without slamming the door harder than necessary making Keigo wince, and he can still hear him shouting “It’s secretary!” behind him before running into the campus in an attempt to at least get to class in time for the introductions, and hopefully he can get in without being noticed.

—

He has no such luck. Shouto is panting and sweating as he reaches his destination, and he’s even more aggravated at not having made it on time. He rejects another call from his father and turns his phone off, so that he can’t try again, before going into the classroom. Shouto pulls his hood over his head, and since he’s been letting his hair grow, he drags his bangs forward to cover his scar. Maybe the teacher will not pay too much attention to him like this, or at least he won’t be placing a fucking target on his back right on the first day. He tries really hard to make his entrance as discreet as possible, but unfortunately, it doesn’t work out very well. He still gets picked on, and has to put up with a lame taunt from the teacher, and the infuriating giggles from people he doesn’t even know, as he flopped down onto a seat in the corner of the classroom, next to Hanta, his boyfriend.

“Are you alright, Roki?” Hanta whispers, and Shouto shakes his head, annoyed.

“Later,” he grits, before he nods in the teacher’s general direction. “What class is this again?”

But before he can even get an answer from his boyfriend, he hears it directly from the teacher’s mouth, as he starts speaking again, and even though Shouto was determined not to pay attention at first, that rough, deep voice immediately pulls him in, and causes him to whip his head quickly to catch a glimpse of its owner.

On the very first impression, it is clear that this teacher, this Bakugou Katsuki guy, is such an imposing man. It’s written all over him, from the superior look he gives his students, to the way he talks and carries himself, oozing confidence. He’s undoubtedly one of those teachers who take great pleasure in picking on their students for no other reason than outright sadism. Shouto can already tell that there’s no way he’s going to be a class favorite this semester. 

But fuck, is he hot.

Shouto should feel a little ashamed to be checking out this guy with his boyfriend sitting right there next to him, but he’s not blind, there’s no way he could pretend that this man isn’t attractive. Hanta is probably thinking the same, he isn’t blind either. It’s a simple matter of having a pair of functioning eyes, he just knows how to acknowledge beauty when beauty is there. Peeking is not a crime as far as he knows, no one is getting hurt by it.

Shouto rests his chin on his palm, and takes a better look at the teacher as he explains—something, something about weekly debates, books to read, whatever. Mr. Bakugou is a blond, tall guy, with strong, and defined arms, and he has tattoos, a lot of them, sticking out from under his rolled-up sleeves, like he never bothered to try and hide them. There’s this underlying sense of intrigue, you know, this air of mystery, something that makes you wonder about what kind of person he truly is in his private life.

Shouto can easily admit that with those looks, it wouldn’t be too much of an effort to pay attention to his lessons. For most of his peers anyway. He’s just—stating out facts here.

“What an asshole.” He’s pulled out of his musings once he hears Hanta’s voice as he sits back down. Shouto realizes just now that he’d been gone. “Why does he feel the need to make us go over there, couldn’t he have handed them over like a normal fucking person?”

Before he gets a chance to say something to his boyfriend, he hears his own name being called out, and freezes for a moment, before he rises to his feet, and pulls the hood off his head, but doesn’t bother with his bangs, walking up to the teacher.

The opportunity to get a closer look at the man’s face only confirms what Shouto had already observed from afar: Mr. Bakugou is strikingly beautiful. Up close, he takes in the details of his face, with sharp features, clean-cut jaw, tapered nose, and eyes an alluring shade of red.

As Shouto holds out his hand to take the piece of paper Bakugou’s offering him, he takes the chance to glance at the colorful ink on his arm. Shouto can’t deny that it has stirred his imagination a little, making him wonder where those tattoos end, if they run all the way up to his biceps, or if they stop at his shoulders, or maybe they only cover his forearm, he wonders if he has others, on other parts of his body, too... 

Shouto also looks curiously at another, perhaps more important detail: on one of the blond’s long fingers, there is a huge golden band—in other words, he’s married. Which isn’t surprising, frankly, you wouldn’t expect a man like that to be single.

His wife’s very luck , Shouto catches himself thinking as he walks back to his seat, and has to catch himself and shake his head, because hang on a second, where the hell did that come from? 

—

“So, what’d’ya wanna eat later?” 

Shouto was still paying attention to the teacher’s last words when Hanta asks him a question towards the end of the class, his fingertips carefully tuck a red strand of his hair behind his ear to reveal his face in an affectionate gesture.

Shouto might be imagining things, but he could swear that Bakugou hadn’t taken his eyes off of him the rest of the period. Although perhaps that was for the same reason most people linger on his face for a while too long, disturbed by all the discrepancies in his appearance. There are quite a few, after all. His unusual two-toned hair, and the heterochromia, both traits due to a condition called chimerism, and then to top it off, there’s the faded scar around his left eye, a result from a childhood accident that only makes him stand out even more. He’s gotten used to the odd looks over the years, but sometimes it still bothers him a little.

It takes him a few moments before Shouto manages to break eye contact with the teacher and turn to his boyfriend.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“You’re so distracted today, baby.” Hanta chuckles, he doesn’t sound bothered. “I asked what do you want for lunch, Roki?”

“Oh, cold soba, maybe?” Shouto shrugs, and it makes Hanta chuckle again, as he shakes his head.

Bakugou lingers in the classroom, even though he has already dismissed the class, so those who wanted to leave or talk were free to do so as the teacher gathered his belongings to leave.

“Don’t know why I bother to ask at this point,” Hanta jokes, as he nudges Shouto.

Shouto doesn’t reply, his mood is still sour from this morning, so he chooses to keep it to himself. He reaches for his phone in his pocket, switching it on. He winces as his screen blinks to life with dozens of missed calls and LINE messages from both his father and his sister. 

He’s not particularly worried about his father being mad at him (he often is, anyway), nor does he have a great desire to get back in Enji’s good side, but he does worry dearly about his credit card that has been cut off, and about his car that has been confiscated.

All this just because he'd been involved in a minor accident that wasn't even really serious on his way home from a party, and he was mostly the other party’s fault. Come on, nobody was even hurt. His old man could be so dramatic sometimes. So annoying.

As he’s typing a message to Fuyumi, in hopes that she can help him sort out this stupid disagreement with their old man, Hanta slings an arm over his shoulders to get closer to him. He’s so cranky though that not even his boyfriend can make him feel better.

“Is that my hoodie?” Hanta asks, squeezing his shoulder as he leans in to kiss his cheek. Shouto lifts his head and turns to look at him when he’s done typing.

“Sorry, I meant to give it back to you…” 

“Nah, keep it,” he says, grinning. “You look cute in it, I like it.” 

Hanta ducks down and kisses him, just a soft press of lips that Shouto returns as a reflex, despite the slight discomfort at being so exposed, especially with the teacher still in the room. As soon as he sees an opening, he puts some distance between them and slips out of his hold, climbing to his feet.

“I’ll be right back,” he announces. “Gotta use the bathroom, and I need to call my sister, too.”

—

When Shouto started getting involved with Hanta in their last year of high school, he always felt a tad awkward about such excessive displays of affection. He’s never been very good with affection, unless it came from his mother or his siblings. 

Plenty of people had told him how cold and distant he was, and people often said that nobody would really want to insist on a relationship with him, especially when they realized he wouldn’t change his ways. As much as he fucking hated it, he had to admit that he got it from his father.

But he doesn’t want to be cold and distant like Enji, so he’s been trying to fix himself, to open up more to Hanta, even in public, even though PDA is still something that bugs him. He feels stifled, even more so because Hanta’s love language is 100% physical touch, and Shouto is just the opposite. 

When they’re alone, it’s another story though. Shouto knows that within four walls he becomes a different person, affectionate, welcoming, very horny, too. The sex might be the major reason why Hanta hasn’t given up on him yet.

With his head racing with way too many thoughts, and in his haste to get to the bathroom, Shouto crashes into another body in the corridor, causing him to stagger backwards, all because his eyes were fixed on his phone screen, as he was still arguing with Fuyumi over text instead of paying attention to where he was going.

“Excuse me, I wasn’t-” He seals his mouth shut though as he lifts his head, his eyes grow wide as he stares at his Ethics teacher standing in front of him. “Oh, Mr. Bakugou, I’m sorry.”

The man sizes him up with an unreadable expression. If Shouto had to guess, he’d say it was complete disdain, from the way he was scowling, but weirdly enough, there seemed to be more to it. It takes Shouto several seconds for him to realize that Bakugou is glaring at his scar, which makes him immediately self-conscious, and he has an intense urge to hide it, but he couldn’t just do it. There’s no way he would be able to do that without looking like a complete weirdo, if he started tugging at his bangs to cover half his face out of the blue.

“You the kid that arrived late to my class, aren’t you?” Bakugou crosses his arms in front of his chest, his muscles bulge as he does so, and Shouto suddenly forgets how to breathe.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Bakugou, it won’t happen again.”

He makes a noncommittal sound, and scrutinizes him for a few seconds with a raised brow, before he speaks again. 

“You better,” he finally says. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Todoroki Shouto.”

As the teacher walks off, Shouto wishes that the ground could split beneath his feet and swallow him whole. This is just great. On top of all the problems he has currently, he’s now being targeted by the man who seems to have no qualms about making his students’ lives a living hell.

His phone ringing in his hand startles him back to reality, and he scowls as he sees his father’s picture, but begrudgingly accepts it, as he hurries to the bathroom.

“So, have you changed your mind yet, Enji? What? No, I’m not calling you ‘dad’, not until you give me back my credit card and my car! No, I’m not going to apologize, it wasn’t even my fault!”

—

It’s been a lucky day, it’s what Katsuki thinks as he says his final considerations before calling it a day. Katsuki liked to lean against his desk and watch everyone carefully at the end of the lesson to gather more insight on the class, but right now, much to his chagrin, he was seeing way more than he wanted to.

He wonders if those kids shoved their manners right up their asses because what the fuck .

As he glanced over, he just caught sight of Todoroki, his latecomer, smooching a scrawny dark-haired guy, and what the fuck is his name again, Katsuki has no fucking clue, even though he knows he’s just seen it on the roll call less than an hour ago.

Katsuki opens his mouth to reprimand them, but his phone buzzing in his pocket diverts his attention. He pointedly ignores it, knowing that only Eijirou could be calling just as the class period has ended. He clicks his tongue as he reaches into his pocket, and presses down on the side button to stop it from vibrating. He’ll deal with his husband later.

Katsuki tears himself away from the desk and goes around it to gather the rest of his shit, already planning in his head getting together with friends for drinks later that night. However, he unconsciously finds himself drawn to a particular spot at the back of the classroom. He peers through spiky blond bangs at the two lovebirds whispering to each other, and sharing affectionate touches and little pecks. 

It’s hard not to roll his eyes as he takes in the ridiculous scene in front of him. However, when the skinny dark-haired guy tucks a red lock of Todoroki’s hair behind his ear, Katsuki’s mouth feels instantly dry. That Todoroki boy is much prettier than he had realized at first. With his face revealed, Katsuki sees more clearly the delicate features, the pale skin contrasting with his dark clothes. For a split second, Katsuki feels unreasonably jealous of the guy who is grooming Todoroki like some sort of precious stone.

“Pathetic,” he mutters to himself. 

Katsuki was considering himself an absolute bastard for fantasizing about someone he’d only just met because his marriage was struggling. A kid, no less. Todoroki has to be at least ten or so years younger than Katsuki, and to make matters worse, he has a very age-appropriate boyfriend. He really should feel disgusted at himself.

In his years of teaching, this had never happened before. Katsuki always noticed boys and girls crushing on him, of course, but it never even occurred to him to reciprocate the affections of confused kids. He just knew it was absolutely normal for them to be smitten by some teachers. 

He knows how unethical and immoral this is—duh, the irony. Of course, not just because of the subject he teaches, anyone knows better than to cross that line. However, he can’t shake the feeling that Todoroki was also checking him out with the same level of curiosity as him. And fuck —no. He really, really needs to go out and unwind a bit, and get his fucking bearings because look at the shit his stupid mind is coming up with.

Katsuki runs out of patience to dealing with these fucking kids, and finally calls it a day, leaving the classroom without so much as a goodbye, or a glance thrown behind him. 

—

He practically sprints to the teachers’ lounge, itching for a cigarette. Katsuki used to smoke only casually, but with the crisis in his marriage, things seemed to have gotten out of hand, his anxiety has him feeling like he’s in a rampaging rollercoaster lately, and with it comes the addiction, as an outlet that helps keep him grounded. It’s not ideal, he’s fucking aware, but it’s what he can do to keep from snapping.

He tosses his things on the desk, but before he can head to the smoking area, someone reaches out and hooks a hand around his shoulder, yanking him back again.

“Ah, ah, ah, you’re not running away from me that easily, Tsuki!” Nemuri, or Midnight as she likes to be called, sinks her nails into the soft fabric of his shirt. He snarls at her, as she speaks again. “Come have lunch with me!” 

“And why the fuck would I want to have lunch with you?” He swats her hand away, and she fucking pouts at him before cracking a cheeky smile.

“Hey, hey, keep that rude boy attitude, and you might make me fall for you, handsome!” She winks at him, crossing her arms under her breasts, as she sizes him up and down as if she’s fishing for something she can use to connect with him. 

Katsuki doesn’t actually hate Midnight, he finds her entertaining, even funny sometimes, and she has some interesting views on relationships. It’s not a secret to anyone that she has a very happy, and long-lasting open marriage with Mirko, another teacher from the Law department. 

“You look awfully stressed and tired, honey,” she says, mildly concerned. “Is everything alright?”

“‘M fucking peachy.” He grumbles, grabbing his pack of cigarettes and lighter from a drawer. He resigns to his fate, aware that there’s no escaping her, once that woman sets her mind onto something. “Fine, where didja wanna eat?”

“Let’s go to the main restaurant on campus, they serve the best soup dumplings you’ll ever taste!”

“Sure.” He clicks his tongue in faux annoyance, even though he was already getting ready to follow her. “Just gotta freshen up, I’ll meet you there.”

He doesn’t pay any attention to what she says next, already heading down the corridor that leads to the bathrooms, taking the opportunity to whip out his phone and check his notifications. He heaves a tired sigh as he comes across three missed calls from his husband and an almost one-minute long voice message on LINE.

Fucking hell, why was Eijirou being so fucking pushy? He was really testing him today.

Katsuki is so preoccupied that he runs into someone and the person staggers backwards. Before he can utter any comments about walking around looking down at their phone and not paying attention, something that he was also guilty of doing but fuck it that’s besides the point, he realizes that it’s one of his students—the half-and-half boy.

He’s already annoyed at his husband’s insistence, so he takes the opportunity to take out some of his frustration on Todoroki, who seems stunned to see him standing so close to him.

Katsuki couldn’t deny that he was also a little astonished as he stares at the boy standing less than two feet away from him. He’s now aware that the eye he’d hidden under those bangs earlier is the deepest shade of blue he’s ever seen. He also takes notice of the prominent scar around that eye, could be a birthmark but looks more the result from a scalding, he’s fairly certain, something that makes Todoroki even more intriguing. Katsuki is confused by the sudden urge to reach out and feel that scar with his fingertips. What the fuck? 

He wonders if that’s why the boy would hide his face with his bangs? Was he ashamed, or did he feel insecure about his appearance because of it? 

Something that should be completely outrageous, he thinks, Todoroki is like nothing he had ever seen. In the best way possible.

Katsuki folds his arms and keeps himself from taking a step forward. For some unknown reason, he wishes those wide mismatched eyes would keep focused on him, just how they’d been not even an hour ago, back in the classroom.

He ends up just nodding at him with his signature sneer after the awkward interaction they exchange, stepping around him to resume his trip to the bathroom. He locks himself inside one of the stalls to finally call Eijirou, who promptly replies on the second ring like he’s been waiting by the phone this whole time. It irritates Katsuki to think that he might.

“Suki?” His voice wavers, like he’s been crying. Katsuki sighs.

“Hey.” He lowers the toilet lid and sits on it, unwilling to attempt another conversation, if he’s being honest. “You didn’t have to call a million times, Eijirou. If I didn’t answer, it’s because I was busy, dammit.”

He hears a tired sigh from the other end. It used to break his heart to hear it, but right now, it’s just annoying. He’s aware they need to figure this shit out, but he’s not really in the mood to do it right now. They’re not gonna solve shit through the phone anyway.

“I thought, well. I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with a friend couple, like a double date. How does that sound?” 

Katsuki kisses his teeth, wiping a hand over his face.

“I can’t today,” he says rather dryly, and clears his throat, attempting to fix his tone into something less cold at least. Eijirou doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to, Katsuki can feel the disappointment through the line. “I already made plans with Hitoshi.” He combs his hair back, and suppresses the urge to yank at it and scream. “Why don’t you call Denki, or fucking Deku to do something? I need some space right now, Eijirou.”

There’s silence on the other end, it drags for at least two minutes, and Katsuki almost thinks he’s hung up. When Eijirou finally speaks again, his voice is small. This does tug at the heartstrings he has left a little bit, and he feels bad for treating so harshly. But what he said remains true, he does need some space right now.

“You really don’t care anymore, do you?”

Katsuki sighs again. 

“You know I hate talking about shit like this over the phone, Eijirou.” He grits, as he dodges the question. “Fuck, you’re just- You’re fucking smothering me right now.”

“‘Kay. I got it.” Eijirou says, with a defeated sigh. “Hey, Katsuki, just one more thing.” Katsuki just hums in response, and winces as he hears him say, “I love you, alright?”

“Yeah.” Fuck, he can’t bring himself to do this right now. “Take care, Eijirou. We’ll talk when I get home.” 

He feels his head start throbbing with an oncoming migraine as he hangs up. Fuck. He hates this.

Chapter Text

Katsuki never thought he’d be the kind of guy who takes his wedding ring off his finger and “forgets” it in the car. But then again, maybe this is the first step towards his decision to break free, or he’s just about to discover a rotten side of himself that’s just some cheap asshole looking for a fling, no strings attached. He doesn’t know yet.

It’s been a few weeks since the semester started, and now Katsuki has even less time for his husband. He’s realized that the more the gap between them grows, the more he feels indifferent to his presence, or lack thereof. It used to hurt, but now all he feels is this fucking numbness.

Camie, ever so helpful, put her therapist’s number on his phone the other day while they were out for drinks. ‘ Just in case’ , she had said, as he rolled his eyes at her. She insisted it would help if he was ready to move forward with the divorce, and maybe if he wasn’t sure yet, it could be useful to talk to a professional, and shit. She might be right, of course, as much as he hates to admit it, but for the time being, his mind is occupied with his work, and it gives him the perfect excuse to push other things aside, at least for now.

Katsuki had planned to grade the assignments from last week, so he headed to work earlier than usual. That would just be more effective than staying at home, because lately even eating breakfast with Eijirou seemed to get his hopes up, and he didn’t really want to deal with it this morning. 

As the teacher walks into the empty classroom, he’s surprised to see a single student there already. Todoroki is sitting at the teacher’s desk, seemingly deeply focused on a chunky textbook as he swiftly scribbles down a few notes in the notebook next to him. It’s not unusual that students want to take the teacher’s seat when the teachers aren’t around. It must have something to do with the brief satisfaction of taking the place of an authority, just some stupid, and harmless act of defiance.

Katsuki can’t tell you how long he spends dissecting the scene in front of him, while having a brief internal struggle trying to decide what he should do. Ultimately, he lets his impulse get the better of him, sneaking up on Todoroki like a snake lurking around a prey. He comes up behind his student, and braces his palm on the desk, leaning over as he towers over him, only to peer at what he’s reading so engrossed that he hasn’t even noticed his presence until now. Maybe Todoroki is taking that promise not to be late for his classes seriously, it truly hasn’t happened again.

“You’re in the wrong seat, kid,” Katsuki says, flexing his arm as he lets his chest press slightly against the top of Todoroki’s back, half pleased to notice his shudder at the sudden contact. The teacher squints to inspect the subject his student is working on, slightly upset to see his notes on legislation in a rather messy handwriting, rather than anything directly linked to the subject Katsuki is teaching. 

“Wrong subject, too,” he adds with his brows furrowed.

“I didn’t think anyone else would be here at this time.” Todoroki sucks in a breath, before he turns his face to glance at the man. Katsuki doesn’t move an inch away.

—

Shouto thinks he could count each blond eyelash and each streak in those bloodmoons that were his eyes from how close he’s standing, not to mention the smell of his cologne that was filling his nostrils, and luring him in like a spell. He wanted to get closer, and chase it.

“Wasn’t expecting the teacher would be here this early.”

Mr. Bakugou lets out a hoarse laugh. Shouto’s eyes track down his movements as the man keeps his attention on the book laid out on the table. He flips through a few pages without asking permission, very nonchalant, and Shouto practically stops breathing when he feels him edge even closer to him. He’s so close now that Shouto can feel the warmth of his breath on his nape. He bites his lip before catching himself, heart skipping a beat.

“Usually, I don’t,” he says, and fuck, his voice is so close . “But I have a couple assignments to look at, and lately I’ve been feeling more focused here than at home.”

Oddly, Shouto can relate to it. He also feels more focused at school than at home.

The teacher finally pulls away, and Shouto feels like he can breathe. Bakugou reaches for a chair in the front row, and sets it on the other side of his desk, ending up directly across from Shouto. 

“I can leave, Mr. Bakugou.” Shouto says hurriedly, and hastily snaps his books shut, already starting to collect his things to get up.

His eyes go wide, and he’s stunned silent when Bakugou stops him with a firm grip on his hand, practically pinning him in place.

“No need.” He shakes his head. “I can just sit right here, you’re fine, boy.” 

Bakugou tosses his satchel bag onto the table with such force that a few strands of Shouto’s bangs swoosh. When he sits down, it’s like he deliberately spreads his legs, and Shouto feels one of their knees touch under the table, making his heart race. 

“I can do whatever the fuck I want in my class period.” Bakugou grins.

“Well, technically, it isn’t the time for your class yet though.” Shouto says, although he isn’t really sure what he’s even saying, or where that interaction will lead. 

Why the heck is he feeling so unsettled in his teacher’s presence?

“Don’t be a smartass.” Bakugou huffs.

Shouto completely loses his focus on his work when the man slips on a pair of glasses that he has never seen him wear before. It suits him—a lot.

As he watches the man arrange the papers into small piles with his nice, large hands, he notices the absence of the wedding ring on his finger. There’s only a faint mark where the golden band used to be, and Shouto briefly wonders what’s up with that? Has he divorced his wife, or has he simply forgotten to wear it this morning?

“Didn’t know you wore glasses,” he comments, dismissing those stupid thoughts. “You never wear them to class.”

“They’re reading glasses,” Bakugou lifts his eyes to Shouto as he explains. “I barely need them, but when I’m grading shit, it feels more comfortable to wear them.”

Shouto just hums, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself as a certain warmth sits in the pit of his stomach each time their knees bush against each other.

Shouto chews on his lip as he flips open his books and attempts to return to read about dull tedious legislation, scribbling down half a dozen words before he pauses, once again feeling a knee bump against his. The action feels purposeful, but as he glances at Mr. Bakugou, the man seems to be paying him no heed, completely absorbed in his piles of assignments to grade.

The last few weeks have confirmed Shouto’s suspicions that he’s indeed being targeted by the Ethics teacher. But contrary to what he had anticipated, Shouto found himself strangely enthralled by the attention he’s been getting from the man, which ended up sparking within him the desire to try and impress him at any given opportunity. It soon turned into some sort of game.

The thing is, Law school had not been an arbitrary choice in Shouto’s life, but as a Todoroki, it’s expected that he’ll be carrying on the family legacy, just like the rest of his siblings. Natsuo is the only one who managed to avoid it, and it’s only because Enji has agreed that it would be honorable to have a doctor in the family. For that reason, Shouto always thought he was going to be doomed to spend his entire college experience hating every passing second he would have to be on campus, but Mr. Bakugou’s classes were helping to make his Mondays more interesting.

Now that Shouto had found something exciting to keep him motivated, the Ethics classes had become the most anticipated lectures each week for him. 

Hanta and his small group of friends failed to understand it, of course. They despised both the subject and the teacher in charge of it from day one. Everyone, without exception, thought Mr. Bakugou was an arrogant prick, on top of a fucking unfair asshole, because what kind of monster expects freshmen like them to be able to hold weekly debates based on preposterously complex subjects?

Shouto finds Mr. Bakugou fascinating and extremely intelligent though. He thinks his method is good, and very effective. The teacher never underestimates them, which is great, it helps build character, and grow a thicker skin. Shouto isn’t sure if that’s because he comes from a tough-love upbringing himself, so he’s kind of used to it, but Bakugou’s teaching style really works for him. 

People just can’t see what he sees, they don’t get him like he does, and it pisses Shouto off how people can be so incredibly stupid sometimes.

“Are these the assessments from last week?” Shouto asks, as he officially gives up on getting his focus back, propping his elbows on the desk, leaning forward enough to peek curiously at the papers, drawing Bakugou’s attention to him.

“They are,” he replies sternly.

An idea occurs to Shouto then, purely because he’s been fussing over this stupid mock test all week, unsure if one of his answers to a question in particular had been convincing, and he really doesn’t want to wait until next week to get the results. 

Perhaps a little charm could help him in this quest to put him out of his misery. It’s worth a shot, there’s never any harm in trying.

“And how did I do?” 

As the teacher lifts his head, Shouto flashes him his nicest smile, he makes his eyes round and sweet, blinking slowly. It usually works like a charm on his siblings, and on his boyfriend.

“You’re mistaken if you think I’m gonna cut you some slack just because I let you stay here, kid.”

“Please, Mr. Bakugou, sir ,” he pleads. “Throw me a bone here, I just wanna know if I messed up too badly.” 

Crimson eyes lock on mismatched ones, and Shouto holds his gaze firmly, determined to crack him down.

The ‘sir’ is a naughty touch, because he knows it riles him up. Shouto happened to figure it out in their very first debate, as he’d thrown it in to tease Bakugou. He was getting frustrated, and desperate, unsure of what else he could do to win the passionate argument the two had gotten into. The rest of the class whipped their heads back and forth between them, eagerly watching the interaction but no one dared to interfere. Shouto kinda lost his composure, and wound up resorting to taunting his opponent. It’s the cheapest tactic in the book, he’s aware, and he’s not very proud of it. His father would have been so fucking disappointed at his lack of persuasion skills. 

But it… worked. It surprised him that it worked so well to throw Bakugou off a bit. Shouto was intrigued at his reaction, and it left him wanting to decipher what that gleam in his eyes meant. To be honest, he gave it a lot of thought over the following weeks.

Shouto keeps his eyes on him as he tries again, he’s not going to give up so easily.

“It’s just that I don't think I’ve managed to grasp the idea of what virtue is for Aristotle,” Shouto sweetens up his tone, and leans in slightly closer, doing his best to sound convincing. “I was hoping you would be able to help me with that? That question was quite challenging for me, and I’d like to understand it fully.”

There are a few things he’s aiming for here: for starters, he’s trying to show Mr. Bakugou that he’s been paying attention to his lectures, and that he’s engaged, and very interested. From what he was able to gather about the man, flattery might work in his favor here. He’s also trying to sweeten him up, just to see if he can get his way. It looks like a fun game to him.

From how close they are, Shouto can see the subtlest contraction flicker in the teacher’s pupils. It’s so brief and quick that Shouto thinks he might have just imagined it. But it’s a reaction regardless, and he can probably work with it.

He can’t shake the feeling that this is bordering on flirting, and that he probably should back the fuck off because he has a boyfriend, and Bakugou is a teacher — a married teacher —, and nothing can come out of it. But it’s so—exhilarating, and fun. He just wants to bathe in it for a second. 

“If you are worried about that, then I don’t even know what should I expect from the rest of the class.”

It takes Shouto a minute to comprehend the full implications of that statement, and his eyes widen slightly as he does, caught off guard.

“Oh? Was that a compliment, Mr. Bakugou?” 

“Tch. Don’t go getting a damn big head about it now.” 

“Ok.” Shouto smiles cheekily. “So?”

Bakugou sighs in exasperation, but he still reaches for one of the piles with a frown, flipping through the papers until he pulls the one he was looking for and slides it towards Shouto. The first thing Shouto’s eyes land on is the big A- circled in red ink at the top of the page, and he lets out a disappointed sigh. He knows it’s not bad , but it’s not the best either, and he can’t help but feel a little upset about it. It’s silly, he knows it, but he really wanted to ace that stupid test for some dumb reason—getting approval, or praise, or whatever.

“It doesn’t look like you’re having trouble, Todoroki,” Mr. Bakugou says, and Shouto’s heart swells with pride as he continues, “I was quite impressed, actually. We haven’t even fully covered the concept of eudaimonia yet, and you talked about it in your answer without bullshitting it.”

“Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics,” Shouto says vaguely as he scans through the paper. “It was the first book on your reading list, wasn’t it? He talks about it there.”

“Did you read that entire book in less than a month?” Bakugou sounds surprised.

“I’ve already read it before, actually.” 

Shouto shrugs, as if it’s not a big deal, his eyes still glued to the paper, surveying every and each highlight and note Bakugou has left there for him. The teacher is quite through with his corrections, and Shouto appreciates it a lot, as it gives him the opportunity to really see where he fucked up, and what he’s been lacking.

“Damn, I knew question 3 was gonna screw me over.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, kid, I administer one of these at the end of every month, so you’ll have other chances to ace it.” Shouto can hear the satisfaction in Bakugou’s voice. “You weren’t even half bad though.”

“That’s cruel though.” Shouto pouts, as he hands the test back. “That’s why everyone hates your classes.” 

“That so?” Bakugou crosses his arms over his chest and leans back on his chair, raising an eyebrow, suddenly interested in chatting with Shouto instead of getting any work done. “Wanna elaborate?”

“I’m not a snitch.” Shouto smiles, crossing his own arms, slightly amused. “All I’m saying is that other people find you… difficult.”

“Other people?” Bakugou studies Shouto’s expression with a sharp smile, and suddenly leans over the table, almost invading Shouto’s space as he gets inches from his face.

“What about you then?” He asks, and Shouto suddenly feels like he’s being scrutinized. “Do you also think I’m ‘difficult’, Todoroki?”

Shouto opens and closes his mouth a few times, but no sound comes out, he just stays there, stunned into silence. He’s also failing to keep his gaze from darting down to Mr. Bakugou’s lips, swallowing dryly as he forces his eyes back up. His breath remains stuck in his throat along with his words for a while longer, before he manages to mumble something.

“N-no.” He breathes out. “Not at all.”

Bakugou stares at him for a long time, as though he’s searching for hints of potential deception in his words, but he could dig, and dig, and he wouldn’t be finding anything in there. Shouto was being honest. He always is, oftentimes more so than he should be. 

“Not at all, huh?” Bakugou hums as he leans back into his chair, checking his watch. “Well, it’s almost time people start coming in, so get your ass off my chair and go to your seat, come on.” He says, already rising to his feet.

Shouto collects his belongings awkwardly at the teacher’s command, and almost trips over his feet as he heads back to his usual seat at the back of the classroom. 

It doesn’t take long for the classroom to start filling up. Hanta walks in a while later and sits down next to him, but not before placing a kiss on his cheek that snaps him out of his daze as he watches Bakugou prepare to start his lecture. 

“Oh, didn’t see you come in,” he says tersely.

“Your enthusiasm is contagious, sweetheart,” Hanta retorts sarcastically, but Shouto is so caught up in his own head that he doesn’t even attempt to laugh it off.

Bakugou claps his hands and grins, attracting everyone’s attention to start on the topic of today’s lesson, and Shouto is mentally grateful that he doesn’t have to say anything else to Hanta right now. 

He shifts all of his attention to the teacher, as he keeps telling himself he’s only interested in the topic being discussed, but Shouto can’t shake the realization that the whole time he was with Bakugou, he didn’t spare his boyfriend a single thought that day until he came in.

Mr. Bakugou’s voice is steady and commanding when he’s teaching. Shouto attempts to take notes, but his mind isn’t cooperating, it keeps drifting, his eyes flicking up to watch the way the teacher carries himself. The intensity in his gestures, the sharpness in his eyes. 

The weight of Hanta’s presence beside him only grows heavier. At some point, Hanta leans over, whispering something under his breath, but Shouto barely hears it, nodding absentmindedly to whatever he says. 

Shouto’s heart pounds in his chest as Bakugou locks eyes with him for a second, he grips his pen tighter, forcing himself to lower his head and pretend he’s writing down whatever he says next. That odd feeling doesn’t go away, it keeps coiling tighter, and tighter in his gut with every glance thrown at the front of the classroom.

—

The first time may have been an accident, but the others were definitely not. Shouto makes a habit of arriving early to class, innocently taking the teacher’s seat instead of going to his own desk and, without failing, Bakugou soon walks into the classroom, takes another chair, and sits across from him, despite having said the other day that it wasn’t his habit to show up so early.

Shouto notices that some days his wedding ring was there, but other days it wasn’t. He finds it slightly confusing, but he doesn’t waste too much time contemplating his reasons, chalking it up as just a common blunder. 

His father also forgets to wear his wedding ring quite often, and that doesn’t mean his parents are divorced. He knows Touya has theories, a shitload of them. Their mother is always traveling abroad, and according to Touya, it’s probably because her and dad have some type of arrangement, since Enji has a rather suspicious relationship with his assistant, Keigo. And even though Shouto is the biggest conspiracy theories enthusiast, he still thinks Touya is being delusional. But he never really dwelled too much on it, to be honest, he wasn’t nearly as interested in his family’s drama as Fuyumi and Touya were. As long as no one bothers him, he’s good.

But back to the present issue. The nature of the interactions with his teacher were becoming more and more provocative, and it’s something that’s been messing with Shouto’s head. It should feel more wrong that it does, because he does have a boyfriend after all. And Shouto doesn’t want to make an issue out of anything, but lately, the thought that maybe he’s holding onto that relationship simply out of fear of being alone, just because he thought Hanta was the only person who could put up with his coldness and apathy has been creeping into his mind, and he doesn’t really know how to deal with it.

Another issue is that Shouto is perfectly aware that deep down he doesn’t really feel that much guilty when he wakes up panting and sweating—and sometimes even wet—after having a feverish dream about his Ethics teacher.

He rationalizes it to make himself feel better. He tells himself time over time that since he can’t control his dreams, there’s no point in blaming himself for them. Although Shouto is pretty sure that some psychoanalyst he had to read for a class, maybe Freud or whatever that madman was called, said something-something about dreams being the unconscious wishes fulfillments of repressed desires. Shouto makes the very arbitrary choice to believe that this is nonsense. Dreams are just dreams, and that’s it.

In those furtive moments he’s been sharing with his teacher, they talk. A lot. About all sorts of subjects. It’s something that Shouto doesn’t experience often. He doesn’t have many opportunities to have these types of conversations with the people he knows, either because of lack of interest, or lack of wit on their end. Whenever that happens, Shouto finds himself confronted with something he’s heard since he was very young—his mind has always been well beyond his years. He never really managed to connect well with his peers because of it, not without feeling awfully misplaced. So it’s refreshing to talk to someone who just seems to get him.

Shouto also noticed that Mr. Bakugou was always finding reasons to touch him at any given chance when they were together. Whether it was a nudge on his arm, or a brush against his hand, and one time it was a hand on the small of his back, but this only happened once. Shouto never considered it inappropriate or uncomfortable. Secretly, he admits he actually kind of enjoys the attention, especially once he’s realized that this isn’t Bakugou’s usual treatment of his other students. It makes Shouto feel somewhat special.

He slowly started to play along with that little teasing game. It’s become more deliberate once he realized what was happening. Shouto revels every time that crimson gaze burns on him during class. It’s a guilty, secret pleasure. Something he keeps to himself. A silly little game that no one else needs to know about it. 

Is it wrong? It might be. But he’s convinced himself that if he’s not really taking any action, then he can indulge, and have some fun.

Shouto started out simple enough, just tying his hair up so that his face was more visible, although sometimes his scar still bothered him a little, but it wasn’t often. Then he started to pick better clothes, opting for bolder cuts that revealed a little more skin, and more often showed his neck. Hanta noticed it too, and he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy being at the center of all that attention.

When he was feeling particularly mischievous, Shouto would bring his pens up to his mouth to bite them before raising his hand to ask a question. Or he’d do anything that might draw attention to his lips, like retouching his chapstick or whatever, while he watched the inner chaos he was inflicting on his teacher. 

His best stunt, and also the best reaction he got, was when he decided to suck on a lollipop in class, innocently batting his eyelashes while watching the teacher’s every move. Bakugou really seemed thrown off, unable to take his eyes off of him that day, and it stirred something inside Shouto. Something that felt both forbidden and exciting.

Shouto doesn’t see this as something terribly condemning. But perhaps he’s blurring the lines and his own morals, to fit his own twisted narrative. In his mind, it’s just an innocent little play, something that won’t get them anywhere. Shouto has a boyfriend. Bakugou has a wife. At best, Shouto will end up getting a few extra points, and that’s it. Although he has a hunch that Mr. Bakugou isn’t that kind of man.

(But isn’t he really? He wonders.)

Chapter Text

Shouto is just walking out of the classroom with Hanta and Momo by the end of the class when he hears his name being called. An involuntary shiver runs through him at the sound of Mr. Bakugou’s gravel voice, and he can only hope his reaction went unnoticed.

“Todoroki Shouto?” The teacher is still sitting at his desk, relaxed, as he dismisses a few students that were talking to him, and the class gradually clears out. “Could you wait a bit? I would like to speak with you for a moment.”

Hanta and Momo share a look, worried that Shouto might be in trouble, but he nudges his boyfriend’s arm and squeezes it gently, offering him a smile.

“It’s okay,” he assures. “I’ll catch up with you when I’m done here.”

Hanta looks reluctant, but ends up relenting as Shouto leans closer and gives him a quick peck on the lips before sending him off with Momo. 

Once the classroom is completely empty, Shouto steps closer to Bakugou’s desk.

“Is something wrong, professor?” He asks innocently, feeling his heart thumping for no real reason. 

Lately the tension between them has grown a lot thicker, even more so when they are alone, and he doesn’t really know what to think of it.

Bakugou stands and stops in front of him, probably closer than necessary. Despite them being almost the same height, the man’s presence is so imposing that Shouto feels like he’s being stared down. Bakugou’s gaze on him feels warm as he scrutinizes him. It sends his blood rushing, and he can feel the hairs on his arms raise as goosebumps run down his spine and up his nape. In the back of his mind, Shouto is aware that he shouldn’t feel so disrupted around his teacher as he does.

“The face you’re making right now makes you look like a frightened bunny,” Mr. Bakugou laughs, it’s a crisp, rough sound that doesn’t help Shouto’s heart in the slightest. “Nothing’s wrong, kid, just wanna show you somethin’.”

He starts walking, as Shouto’s brain is slow to catch up.

“Follow me.” Bakugou instructs, and Shouto blinks, before he adjusts the strap of his bag and nods, trailing behind him. He doesn’t even think of questioning anything as they cross the campus in silence and stop by the parking lot beside an orange SUV. 

Shouto pulls his lip between his teeth as Bakugou unlocks the doors and goes out of his way to open the passenger door for Shouto. 

“Get in,” he says, and Shouto does as he’s told, heart racing like crazy as he slips inside and settles into the expensive, comfortable leather seat, as Bakugou steps around the car and climbs into the driver’s seat.

Shouto notices his hands are clammy, and shaking with nerves, he’s a little confused about what the hell they’re doing here, but he does his best to soothe his anxieties despite himself. He doesn’t think his teacher has any ill intentions, but it’s the thought of being alone with him in an enclosed space that makes him nervous. 

He has to shut down that silly part of his brain that is disappointed, whispering obnoxiously that it’s such a shame, really, that the stupidly hot teacher doesn’t actually have any malicious intent as he brought him to his car…

“So…” Shouto clears his throat after he takes a look around the car, breathing in the lovely fresh and clean smell inside, as he puts his bag down to sit more comfortably. “Why have you brought me here, Mr. Bakugou?”

“Ah, yeah, here!” Bakugou exclaims as he twists around to retrieve something from the back seat, returning with a book that he holds out to Shouto. 

“I wanted to give you this,” he explains. “You seemed pretty into it last week when we talked about it, so I thought you might be interested in actually reading it, since you haven’t had the chance yet, as you said.”

Shouto furrows his brows as he stares at the cover of Fitzgerald’s “The Great Gatsby”. He doesn’t exactly remember what Bakugou had to say about it. He’s heard about the book in school probably, ‘cause he knows it’s something something about some guy pursuing some lady and there’s also some moral conflict there somewhere, he thinks? 

Well, yeah. But what Mr. Bakugou doesn’t need to know is that while he was geeking out about it, Shouto was actually busy staring at the way his lips moved, and how his voice sounded when he was excited about something. Until he jumped straight to daydreaming, and all sorts of sordid thoughts intruded his mind. As he talked and talked, Shouto was wondering how would people react if they inadvertently walked into the classroom only to find their Ethics teacher bending a student over his desk, fucking him senseless.

Oh, it was such a naughty thing to think of when he knows he has a boyfriend, and the teacher in question is married, but he hasn’t been able to quite help it. 

But yeah, he wasn’t particularly invested in the book itself, but he can’t tell him that. He probably looked invested, if this right now is the outcome. He’s developed that quirk forever ago, when he had to sit through his father’s rants, he would just sit there and look like he was listening, when he really, really wasn’t.

“Oh.” Shouto lifts his face, ignoring how close his teacher is, the car albeit spacious feels tiny and confined with the air so charged. “Thank you, professor. That was very thoughtful of you. I’ll keep you posted once I’m done reading.”

Shouto attempts to make his way out of there before his mind can tempt him to act impulsively, and he ends up doing something that could really cause a lot of trouble for everyone, but a firm hand curls around his wrist, stopping him before he can even get up. 

Shouto turns to look at his teacher, blinking as his breathing gets ragged, and his heart starts leaping.

“Okay, I must admit that was a shitty excuse,” Bakugou says lowly as he leans closer, and he’s much bolder than he’s been before, as he cups the side of Shouto’s face with his free hand. He’s been touchy with him, sure, but not like this. His hand is so big, it covers his entire cheek so nicely, his touch feels so warm.

Despite his heart being ready to jump right out of his chest, Shouto doesn’t try to pull away, pinned in place both by his teacher’s hand and his own curiosity. 

“Truth is, I can’t fucking get you out of my head, and I really, really wanna kiss you, Shouto. ”

Shouto can’t pretend he’s not taken aback, at both the blunt confession and the use of his first name so casually, his eyes widen in surprise as a soft “oh” leaves his lips. His body moves before his mind can catch up, though. The book slides off his hands and hits the ground with a thud as he grabs the flaps of Bakugou’s denim jacket and yanks, slotting their lips together, perhaps a little too eager.

All the tension that has been building up between them over the past months is poured into that kiss. Bakugou’s hand moves from his face, running his fingers through his hair, and Shouto melts as he tightens his grip, and coaxes him to open his mouth, sighing as his tongue slides inside, and the kiss deepens.

It’s unreal, it feels so fucking good.  

Unfortunately they have to break apart to catch their breaths, and also for the awkward position that’s certainly bad for their necks. Shouto feels a little dazed, his eyes are half-lidded, and he knows he’s flushed because he can feel the warmth spreading not only across his cheeks, but all over his body; his lips are probably kiss red, too, he feels them tingling as he runs his tongue across them, watching Bakugou’s eyes darken as he tracks the movement.

It’s been made stark clear that he’s playing with someone far more experienced. The way Bakugou claimed his mouth, sucked on his tongue without reservation, rendering him into a mess with just one kiss. Wild, and feisty, and just oozing confidence. None of the boys Shouto ever kissed were like that.

But Shouto knows how to play this game, too, at least a little. Although he might feel a touch embarrassed by their predicament, he’s never been particularly coy regarding these things. 

With a cheeky little grin, he decides, gently nudging Bakugou backwards with his palm flat on his chest—and God, he wants to feel those muscles under his fingertips without any barriers so bad. He gracefully climbs over the gearshift to straddle his teacher’s lap, nestling himself between the man and the steering wheel, leering down at him. 

He can tell it has an effect on him, the red of his eyes reduced to only a thin sliver of color circling his fully blown pupils. He looks up at Shouto as if he is the most appetizing snack he’s ever had, and it makes Shouto preen. 

Bakugou wastes no time reclining his seat to make more room for them. Shouto settles into his lap, pushing his ass over his bulge, pleased to learn that he’s quite excited already. Shouto slowly runs both hands up, from his biceps to his shoulders, reaching into his jacket to slide it down his arms as far as it will go, tilting his head forward to bring their faces close, but every time Bakugou tries to kiss him, he playfully draws back to tease him, giggling.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Bakugou, sir?”

He has Bakugou groaning, his big hands grab a hold of his thighs and squeeze, digging his nails into his jeans, as he pulls him as close as possible, smashing their lips together, and claiming his mouth in a somewhat desperate kiss that Shouto is glad to reciprocate. 

“You’re being naughty,” Bakugou mutters. “You’re asking for it.” 

“Maybe I am.” Shouto squirms as he grinds down, rubbing himself against his teacher’s lap. He has to keep himself from moaning into his mouth, as he lays himself bare into each of their kisses, the pace almost dizzying, like Bakugou’s really been waiting for a long time for that. Shouto’s helpless, his mind has been taken over completely, he’s unable to think of anything else but this moment.

“Fuck, you’re sexy.” Bakugou sounds a little dazed as well. Shouto shivers as he feels his lips trailing down, lathering his neck with featherlight kisses. His chest swells with pride to be the reason a man like Bakugou is losing his composure.

—

The pleasant weight sitting on Katsuki's lap only fuels him to let go of any shackles that might prevent him from delving into the forbidden sea that is his student. He's been playing dangerously for a while now, flirting with him and sneaking in some reckless touches. He knows that these haven't gone unnoticed by either of them.

At first, Katsuki even believed that he was just having some trouble in paradise, a little crisis in his marriage that they would soon fix. He supposed that throwing away all the history and the years he’d spent with Eijirou wouldn’t stand to reason.

But things started to get out of hand, and Katsuki found himself craving more and more of those little interactions with his student. It didn’t help that Todoroki was so indulgent about it, and even though he also had a boyfriend, he actively found ways to tease the teacher during classes. He was far less innocent than that pretty, angel face let on. 

So that morning, when he grabbed that book from the bookshelf in his office and left the house after giving his husband a quick peck on the lips, Katsuki admitted to himself that he was going to go through with it. He would let himself have that little extramarital experience, as an attempt to calm down his dick that wouldn’t stop throbbing every time he imagined Todoroki sitting in his chair at work, or lying on his stomach on top of his desk, or being ravaged by Katsuki in any strategic corner of the campus.

It’s been years since Katsuki felt this type of heat flaring up in his gut. The urge to learn what was hidden underneath layers of clothing, and how good it would be to taste a whole new flavor on his tongue. It’s been truly driving him crazy just to think about. He knows how much of an asshole he is for thinking that way, and things just got even worse now, when the thing he wanted the most has turned into reality. There’s no integrity left, no morals for him to hold onto, just this fucking yearning for fulfillment, this need. 

Until he met Todoroki, he thought people like him only belonged in books. Todoroki is like a character from some idyllic tale, just like the boys in those erotica novels that Katsuki used to read and fantasize about in his youth, as the feelings of loneliness, and longing for something that seemed so unattainable wrapped themselves around endless heated summer nights. 

He hadn’t thought about it in years.

Katsuki clears his mind for the moment being, and lets his mouth savor every inch of skin he can latch on, his teeth baring out of his desire to bite, but he doesn’t, and a sigh leaves him as he relishes the taste on his tongue. Todoroki tastes like youth and everything that is forbidden.

His hands itch to tear his clothes away, and paint some colorful bruises all over his milky thighs. Reflexively, Katsuki pulls Todoroki more into him, earning a gasp as he makes the boy grind his ass against his bulge, and feel how hard he’s making him. Holding him accountable. 

“I don’t think your wife would approve of that, Mr. Bakugou.” Todoroki provokes him, daring to giggle as he rests his hand on top the hand Katsuki has tightly wrapped around his thigh, his fingertips graze over his wedding ring, stroking it curiously, and it’s like the touch makes the metal fucking burn on his finger. And for some stupid reason, it also makes his dick jump.

“Husband.” He doesn’t even think before blurting out the correction, it’s simply his knee-jerk reaction after years of correcting tons of dumbasses for assuming shit. 

He sinks his teeth into Todoroki’s cleavage that’s exposed by the type of his shirt’s cut to distract him from his blunder, even though he didn’t seem to care in the slightest. He smirks as the boy whines, aware of the lovely little bruise that will be decorating his student’s skin for at least a week. He feels his cock throb again at the thought and at Todoroki’s shuddering body, as he rocks his hips wantonly on his lap. It’s like he’s trying to get more, and more of what’s concealed under thick layers of constrictive clothing. And Katsuki would love to give it to him.

Katsuki lifts his head slightly and looks up at mismatched eyes with wonder. He's amused at the sight of dilated pupils darkening them, leaving only a sliver of gray and blue surrounding all the black, turning his gaze into something even more compelling. Todoroki seems to snap out of his trance when Katsuki stares at him though, and a spark of conflict flashes in his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you’re already having second thoughts about this, pretty boy?” Katsuki presses his mouth to his ear, his voice husky and deep as he teases him, flicking his hot, wet tongue across the shell, and catching the earlobe between sharp teeth. 

“What’s the matter, huh? Worried you might upset your dear little boyfriend?” He returns Todoroki’s previous jab.

He feels more than sees the slight shake of Todoroki’s head, as he squirms, adjusting himself on his lap, and leaning further forward, as he grinds once more against his bulge. He’s hard too, full of need, probably throbbing just as bad.

“No, I want to make the most of this private lesson, sir.” 

Katsuki can’t contain the smile that shapes itself on his lips as he nuzzles at Todoroki’s jaw, before kissing up a trail to meet sweet, sweet lips that are already waiting for him. He takes it up a notch, and kisses him until they’re both gasping for air. This boy is a fucking wet dream. Katsuki has to hold back, or he will end up fucking him right here, in the parking lot at his damn workplace. Fucking unethical and shit.

Katsuki drags his hands from his thighs to the boy’s wrists, and suddenly he traps his hands behind his back, making him slide all the way back, leaning against the steering wheel, gratefully not hard enough to honk the horn, otherwise now would be the time they’d be regrettably exposed. The arch of Todoroki’s spine plays into the teacher’s imagination even more, and he makes a mental note of how flexible he is. Todoroki isn’t intimidated, as he jerks his hips forward and bounces lightly, drawing a muffled growl from Katsuki.

“Fuck,” he huffs breathlessly, keeping Todoroki’s wrists restrained with just one hand, as he brings the other back forth and sneaks it up inside his student’s shirt. “If you keep that up, I might be granting you that A+ you’ve been aiming for next time.”

“Are you sure you’re an Ethics teacher?” Todoroki chuckles, as he cheekily teases him. “That’s not very principled, Mr. Bakugou.”

Katsuki huffs, smirking wolfishly as he bunches up Shouto’s shirt to reveal pretty, rosy perky nipples.

“Now, now, don’t be a smartass,” he mutters, busying himself with one of the boy’s nipples.

It doesn’t take even half a second of Katsuki pressing his tongue to Todoroki’s sensitive bud to get him to make some noise for him. He delights in the moan that morphs into a whine, a reaction that could only be drawn out of someone barely experienced, or someone really sensitive. He’s yet to find out which is it. Either way, it’s cute how easily ticked he is.

Katsuki takes his sweet time working his nipples, sucking on them as if they are some candy, and it’s honestly one of the sweetest things he’s ever tasted until now.

Katsuki can’t find the words to describe how alive he feels right now, and perhaps it was foolish of him to think that he would just get a taste from the forbidden fruit to soothe his urges, and would be able to let go. Now Katsuki is fucking sure of just how much he wants this. He wants to get this boy to make pretty noises just for him, and to find out just how far he is willing to go. All that’s on his mind is the burning desire to take Todoroki apart, maybe right here inside of his car, or anywhere they could be alone. He wants to fuck him until his legs give out. He wants to give this boy one of those mind-blowing orgasms that almost feel like a little death, he wants him to never forget what it’s like to be handled by a real man.

The air inside the car was becoming sticky and stuffy, Katsuki could feel his hair sticking to his forehead and the nape of his neck, also noticing his student’s labored breathing as he seemed to melt against the steering wheel, squirming. He forgot that he was still restraining Todoroki’s arms back, but a whine brings his attention back to it.

“I wanna touch you too, sir.” He says, voice breathy, as he stays obediently tied, even though he could easily wiggle away from his hold anytime, if he wanted to. Katsuki notices, and he likes it very much, this little show of submission. He didn’t expect that, as the boy is always showing pleasure in defying him during classes, but now that he thinks about it, maybe that’s exactly the kick he gets out of it, just being a brat to tick Katsuki off, and maybe Katsuki just has to show him some real dominance. He really seems to like it, apparently.

Their eyes meet again as Katsuki tugs his shirt down and lifts his face, freeing Todoroki’s wrists from his hold. The boy immediately leans forward and rests his hands on Katsuki’s shoulders, as he keeps one of his hands under his shirt, trailing his nails from the bottom up to the nape of Todoroki’s neck.

Todoroki is about to start kissing him again, but before he can move forward, the sound of a door slamming catches both their attention, and they both turn to look at the car parked next to Katsuki’s, where Nemuri absentmindedly throws some books onto the passenger seat. 

Todoroki’s face pales, and he stops breathing, and even Katsuki has to admit that he felt a cold chill creep up his spine, knowing that the woman had a sixth sense or something for spotting any gossip happening in the vicinity.

“Hey,” Katsuki immediately shoves his concerns aside though to reassure the frightened boy on his lap, pressing a placating hand to the side of his face. “Relax, the windows are tinted. She can’t see shit.”

He mentally thanks himself for the extra money he’d invested in the car, even though he never imagined it would come in handy in such a compromising situation. 

(Well, he couldn’t have anticipated that one day he would be cheating on his husband, let alone with one of his students. So there’s that.)

“I’m fine now, I think.” Todoroki bites his lip as he looks at his teacher with relief, his heartbeat still audibly out of compass, but it seems to slowly return to its normal rhythm.

Katsuki tucks a lock of red hair behind his ear, amused at how much he was able to mess with him in that short time span. He was kind of the same, if he was honest with himself, even if he looks more composed. 

Todoroki tentatively leans in to kiss him again, but Katsuki shakes his head. As wonderful as it had been, the scare had helped to knock some sense into him. The parking lot is risky, more people could show up, and he really doesn’t want to have to deal with any hassle. The last thing he needs in his life right now is a scandal.

“I think we gotta stop now, pretty boy.” Todoroki looks confused, and if he’s not reading too much into it, maybe a little hurt even.

“But-” he starts to object, as Katsuki cuts him off, not wanting him to think he’s just coldly rejecting him like an asshole.

“Do you wanna meet me outside of campus next week?”

—

Shouto was about to protest, but Bakugou’s words stun him into silence. He wasn’t expecting such a bold invitation all of a sudden, though by now, boldness is something that he should expect from his teacher. Bakugou never tiptoes around things.

“What do you say?” The gentle stroking on his hair is replaced by a tight grip that makes him whine, as Bakugou tugs him forward, the tips of their noses touching, and their lips once again with barely any distance between them.

“There are many things I wanna teach you, pretty boy.”

Shouto decides to be bold too, even if his heart races as he takes what he wants, burying his hands into his teacher’s blond locks, as he kisses him just the way he was about to do before. The grip Bakugou has on his hair tightens as he kisses him back, his other hand finds his waist and brings him closer, before sliding back inside his shirt.

He can’t get over how good it feels to have this man kiss, and touch him like this. He knows he’s doing something really bad, cheating on his boyfriend, and everything, but God, does that feel exhilarating.

It’s another round of kissing that lasts for stretched minutes, all tongue and teeth, before Shouto pulls back, heavy-lidded and panting, and probably flushed down to his toes.

“Where do you wanna take me?” He does his best to stay collected and ignore the shiver running down his spine as Bakugou rubs circles on his skin.

“It’ll be a surprise.” Bakugou offers him a wink with a sharp grin. “Do you trust me?”

Shouto pretends to be thinking about it, but he doesn’t hide his playful smirk. His eyes glint in defiance, as he doesn’t give him an answer. Instead, he reluctantly removes himself from the teacher’s lap, minding the gearshift as he slides back into the passenger seat, the whole time feeling crimson eyes following him.

“Why should I trust you, Mr. Bakugou?”

Bakugou adjusts the driver’s seat back to its original position, straightening his clothes and trying to fix his mussed hair, checking himself out in the rearview mirror, before he turns back to face Shouto again with one eyebrow arched.

“Why shouldn’t you?”

Shouto simply smiles sheepishly at him, and doesn’t give him a straight answer, which makes the teacher huff as he watches the boy pick up his bag, and bend down to retrieve the book forgotten on the floor.

“I’ll be keeping that,” he informs him, reaching for the car door. He knows he’s playing hard to get by not giving him a straight answer, which is probably silly when he’s given in already, but he can’t help it. It kind of feels good to mess with him a bit.

“Hold on.” Bakugou stops him, grabbing his arm. “Gimme your phone.”

“Why?” 

“Fuck, stop messing around.” Katsuki huffs, as he holds out his hand impatiently, though he doesn’t look actually fussed. “Come on.”

Shouto makes a face, but still pulls his phone out of his bag, handing it to him after unlocking it. The glimpse of the display before he handed it over showed him that lunchtime had long since passed, and only then does Hanta return to the foreground in his mind, as he remembers he’d promised he’d be meeting him soon. Oh no.

Bakugou fiddles with his phone, moving his fingers quickly as he taps on the screen, handing it back in a couple seconds.

“What-”

“It’s my number,” Bakugou explains. “I’ll be glad to help if you find any trouble understanding my subject, or if you need anything.”

The shit eating grin plastered on the corner of his lips speaks for itself, and Shouto feels his cheeks burn. He’s perfectly aware that Bakugou didn’t put his number there to discuss Ancient Greece in his spare time.

He doesn’t press him anymore for an answer about their potential date, but Shouto knows that he’s waiting. He’s committed to the game now though, so he will keep him on hold for the time being. It feels a little bit thrilling to imagine that Bakugou is going to be waiting for that answer, and Shouto wants to revel in it for a bit, the little power it gives him, like he’s holding onto some treasure the other desires.

“Yeah, thanks, Mr. Bakugou,” he says as he puts his phone away, finally stepping out of his car.

His legs are still shaking as he stumbles out of the parking lot, with his heart stuttering in his chest. He still can’t believe he did that.

With only a twinge of guilt, he retrieves his phone and types out some excuse to Hanta, telling him he was held back longer than he expected, and that he would see him tomorrow at school, and while he’s at it, he sends another message to Keigo to see if he’s around and if he can come pick him up, since his father still hasn’t returned his car.

Chapter Text

Shouto leans against the side of the bed from his spot sitting on the floor, his eyes glued to Bakugou’s book as he keeps devouring the words, quite engrossed with the story. It’s actually a lot more entertaining than he thought it would be. It’s not on purpose, but he’s not paying much attention to his boyfriend, even as he clicks his tongue in annoyance when Shouto shakes his head dismissively to turn down the joint he’s been offered as the other boy joins him on the floor once he’s finished rolling it.

“You’ve been giving a lotta love to that book, I’m getting kinda jealous, ya know.” Hanta bumps shoulders with him to get his attention, but Shouto only turns to acknowledge him once he finishes the sentence he was reading.

“Hm?” he hums, urging him to repeat himself. “What is it?”

Hanta rolls his eyes, flicking his lighter as he takes another drag without uttering another word, but his discontentment at his boyfriend’s attitude is visible. Shouto sighs and closes the book, putting it aside. He’s not stupid enough to just ignore Hanta’s grouchy mood. He reaches for the joint in Hanta’s hand and brings it to his lips.

“You’re grumpy today.” Shouto observes, as the smoke burns his throat slightly, making him cough a little.

His boyfriend huffs, moving to crawl into his lap, dropping himself heavily on top of his thighs to trap him where he’s sitting, eyeing him up and down with an unreadable expression before snatching the joint from his grasp, as Shouto just stares at him. It’s not that he’s uninterested, but his mind is… elsewhere.

“With good reason, in my opinion, my boyfriend has been ignoring me, you know.” He says, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of Shouto’s mouth. 

“I’ll give you a chance to turn this around, but you’ll have to be good.” He adds, and Shouto sighs as he lets himself be kissed.

It’s not a bad kiss, he’s always enjoyed the way Hanta kisses and touches him, they are boyfriends for a reason, but the problem right now is that every time Shouto closes his eyes, he can’t help but remember Katsuki’s tongue inside his mouth. The way the teacher had touched him with no reservations, his large, sure hands wandering all over his body, gripping him as though he wanted to own him… Damn, Shouto can still feel the ghost of sharp teeth and hot lips encasing his nipples, and how good it felt… 

There wasn’t even a fleeting thought of Hanta in his mind when it was just the two of them cut off from the rest of the world, hidden away behind the tinted windows of Bakugou’s SUV, and he can’t forget how badly he wanted to take things further right there, how he wanted Mr. Bakugou to lose his cool and just take him right there… So inappropriate, so dirty…

Subconsciously driven by these dirty, dirty thoughts, Shouto kisses Hanta back willingly, to which his boyfriend doesn’t complain. Shouto squeezes Hanta’s biceps, as the other boy runs his fingers through his hair, tightening his grip. Shouto sighs, chasing the kiss as Hanta grinds their hips together, taking advantage of his position on top of him.

They make out like this for a bit, and the push and pull feels good, Shouto is really enjoying himself, but as soon as Hanta takes his hand to the hem of Shouto’s turtleneck to lift it up with the intention to strip him off, he jolts suddenly. His eyes snap open like he’s been burned as he recalls that the faded mark from Bakugou’s hickey near his collarbone is still there. He has to grab his boyfriend’s wrist to stop him from going any further, which is a shame, he was starting to get aroused, and maybe if he had sex with Hanta now, he would get reminded why he likes him in the first place. Maybe he would be able to forget about their teacher, then, but there’s no way he would be able to find a proper excuse to do it with his clothes on, and he surely couldn’t hope to find an excuse for a hickey in such an intimate place. 

The interruption makes Hanta lean away from his face to look at him with a questioning look. His frustration at being turned down is obvious. Normally, Shouto would be way keener to have sex, he knows this is odd behavior for him, but what can he do?

He clears his throat awkwardly and looks at Hanta with wide eyes, blinking a few times as he contemplates what to say.

“Sorry, Han, I just completely forgot I had to do Natsu a favor, he’s gonna kill me if I screw that up. I gotta go.” The lie slips off his tongue a little easier than he expected, as he gently nudges his boyfriend off him to get moving, gathering his stuff around the room to get ready to leave.

“You want me to come with you?” Hanta jumps to his feet, looking a little at a loss when Shouto shakes his head.

“Don’t worry, I’ll probably have to wait at the hospital for ages, it’ll be awfully tedious, you really don’t have to suffer through it with me.” He steps closer when he has his bag strapped to his body to place a quick kiss to Hanta’s cheek. “I’m sorry, alright? I’ll text you later.”

“At least gimme a proper kiss goodbye.” Hanta pouts, pulling Shouto closer by the waist, as he moves his hands up to cup his face, holding him still for a kiss. Shouto concedes, resting his hands on his shoulders, squeezing lightly as he kisses back.

“Oh, also, before you go, there’s this party on Friday, if you’re willing,” his boyfriend says as they part.

“Uh, we’ll see.” Shouto replies. “Either way, we’ll talk about it later, ‘kay?”

Sero’s dorm is just two stops away from Shouto’s place by train, so he gets home pretty quickly after they said goodbye. He heads straight to his room without talking to anyone, hoping to get some studying done, even though his mind is a bit all over the place.

Eventually, he’s called downstairs for dinner and has to put up with his father bragging about some great achievement at work, which Shouto has zero interest in, and he tunes out most of the conversation happening at the table. He’s freed only when the old man has had enough of the “family quality time” he insists on spending with them, even though his mom is always missing and Keigo is usually present in these, which totally defeats the purpose of a “family” reunion, but it’s whatever. 

Shouto takes a quick shower when he gets back to his room and slips into his favorite clothes. Which is just a worn out tee with a faded Motörhead logo on it. Shouto doesn’t really listen to their music as often any more now that his brother isn’t there, but Touya let him have it when he moved out, and Shouto loves how it looks on him. It’s pretty loose, and it hangs off one of his shoulders whenever he wears it, it goes just above his knees from how large it is, but it’s just perfect. Comfiest item he owns, just 10/10.

Shouto finally flops onto his bed with Bakugou’s book secured in his hands, figuring that he could enjoy himself a bit. He’s been really into the story, but his concentration isn’t really working in his favor as his mind keeps drifting back to that moment in Bakugou’s car.

He catches his lip between his teeth as he thinks about the teacher’s number sitting right there in his contacts, just waiting. Shouto still hasn’t worked up the courage to start a conversation with him since that day, nor has he given the man a proper answer about meeting him somewhere else, so that’s still on hold. 

He tsks, frustrated and fed up that his own mind won’t leave him alone, he tries to ignore his own thoughts and turns to the side, trying to get back to his reading. He only manages to get to a few more paragraphs but soon finds himself restless again, turning to the other side. He tries a number of different positions, but nothing feels comfortable enough. 

Tired of that indescribable emotion that seems to be eating at him, Shouto sits up quickly and grabs his phone, gnawing on the inside of his cheeks as he scrolls through his contact list. 

He decides not to think too hard about it and just act on impulse, otherwise he’ll end up backing out. He just wants to see how far this game will go, if Bakugou was really as interested in him as he made it seem. 

A little voice in the back of his head tells him to think about his relationship and how this is probably such a bad idea. 

Shouto isn’t stupid though, of course he knows how these things usually begin and how they end, if the movies and books have taught him anything useful. Bakugou is infatuated with him now because he’s bored in his marriage, but he’ll soon grow tired of fooling around. He’ll eventually sort things out with his husband, and Shouto will be nothing more than a sweet memory for him.

The thought is bittersweet, but he knows that’s just how things are. He’s a pretty young thing serving as a distraction, the fulfilment of a fantasy maybe. 

Still, working out his own issues with Hanta sounds like a distant thought now that his mind is obsessing over his Ethics teacher. Perhaps if he allows himself to have this little adventure, it could help him get back on track, to focus on his boyfriend and be good. If he can soothe these urges, and if this can help him escape the boredom that has been plaguing his relationship, then maybe that’s not so bad. 

Deep down he knows he’s just full of shit, trying to find excuses for himself. There’s just no way you can look at it and think this is right. It’s not right. He’s aware.

He decides to stop thinking and springs into action. With a sigh, he sits back on his heels and pulls the collar of his shirt lower to reveal the hickey that’s still slightly visible on his skin, the evidence of what they’ve done in the car. Shouto opens his phone camera in selfie mode then, and intentionally angles it so the shot is framed from his mouth downwards. He strikes a little pose too, tries out a couple of provocative positions, shifting and fumbling with his clothes, until he gets a few decent pics. 

He knows he can be sexy when he wants to, he has used it in his favor many times before. Bakugou isn’t the first teacher to take an interest in Shouto, but he is the first one Shouto has ever allowed anything to happen. He would tease the older men sometimes just for fun, perverted highschool teachers that wanted to get into his pants, they would give him extra points and favor him in class, but it has never gone past that before. 

Shouto pauses as he opens a new chat. This isn’t the first time in his life he’s taken and sent teasing selfies either, but it is the first time he feels this nervous. Still, there’s something deeply exhilarating about doing this that urges him on.

He picks out his favorite one after a few minutes and debates if he should edit it a bit but decides against it, feeling kind of stupid. Before he can second guess himself, his curiosity gets the better of him though, if only because he really wants to see how his teacher will react. 

He types in a caption that he knows the man will immediately understand exactly what he’s talking about. 

| Me: [Sent a picture]

| Me: It’s fading already… 

He added a little emoji at first, but it felt stupid and corny, so he deleted it last minute before hitting send.

There. Now he can’t take it back. What’s done is done.

-

When Katsuki’s phone buzzes in his pocket, he’s sitting on the couch, watching some movie he can’t even remember the title with his husband. It’s been a while since he’s spent quality time with him, and after a lot of persistence on the redhead’s end, Katsuki budged. He thought he could give it a shot, maybe there could be a way to rekindle that little flame that Eijirou was fighting so hard to keep ignited. They were a good couple once. 

(Even if that feels so fucking far away now.)

His hand slips into his pocket absentmindedly, and when he checks his phone and sees a notification from an unknown number, he frowns and decides to ignore it, but after a split second, he remembers that he gave Todoroki his number, and his mouth goes dry.

Shit.

Suddenly, that tiny little spark that was just simmering beneath his skin is replaced by molten fire coursing through his veins, causing his palms to sweat as he recalls the touch of soft lips and addicting little sounds that were still fresh in his memory.

Fuck, and he had only tasted that drug once.

Damn, he needs to see what’s on that message now.

“You’re not enjoying the movie?” Eijirou’s voice cuts through his digression, but he sounds thousands of miles away even though he’s right beside him, leaning on Katsuki’s arm. “We can pick something else, or maybe we could…”

Eijirou shifts and turns slightly to the side, wrapping his hand around Katsuki’s strong thigh, but before he can take a step further and climb onto his lap, Katsuki stops him, curling his hand around his husband’s wrist gently but still firmly enough to make him back off.

Katsuki’s gaze is stern, and his resolve is unwavering as he stares into Eijirou’s embittered and wounded eyes, after he realizes that the answer to whatever he was attempting to do is a “no”. It doesn’t feel good to deny him like this, but he tried to give in before, and the sex wasn’t even good. It felt like duty, like he was only going through the motions. It left him wondering if Eijirou felt the same. He might be an asshole, but he doesn’t think Eijirou deserves that, especially right now, when his mind is elsewhere.

“What’s wrong, Katsuki?” Eijirou asks, as both of them stay locked in the same position, with Katsuki’s hand around his wrist and Eijirou’s hand firmly planted on his husband’s thigh. “I thought you’d decided to work it through with me, but it feels like no amount of effort I put into making our relationship work seems to be enough to bring you back to me.”

“Fuck, I know. Dammit, I fucking know.” Katsuki lets go of his wrist and takes the opportunity to jump to his feet, shoving his phone back inside his pocket. “I see you, and I see your efforts, Eijirou. I’m fucking trying too, you know? I’m here because I care and I’m really fucking trying, but I’m not in the mood right now. I’m—fucking sorry.”

Katsuki knows that sounds like bullshit, even to his own ears.

“That’s not enough to save our marriage, Katsuki.” Eijirou deflates, sinking further into the couch, defeated, as he turns back to the TV and stares at it hollowly. 

“Perhaps we should just—I don’t know.” Eijirou trails off, and Katsuki knows why. He’s scared to say it. He tiredly rubbing at his eyes, then scrubs his face, Katsuki can see he’s controlling himself the best he can not to fall apart. 

There was a time he would’ve felt compelled to reach out and comfort him. A part of him still does, but a stronger part of him just wants to leave and be on his own.

“Yeah, perhaps you’re right.” Katsuki says quietly, before he leaves the room, deciding he doesn’t want to deal with this right now. 

He knows what Eijirou wanted to say, he’s been thinking the same thing himself, but neither of them spoke it into reality yet. Divorce. Maybe that’s all that’s left for them to do.

Katsuki walks out of the room and goes upstairs to avoid saying anything that could create any more problems. Eijirou isn’t the only one who has worked hard for their relationship, Katsuki has also bent over backwards for them, but he can no longer see a future for them. He doesn’t feel the same anymore, that’s the truth.

Then he met Todoroki. He feels that his world has been turned upside down in a way he never thought possible since that happened. It was unexpected, he wasn't anticipating anything like this at this point of his life.

It’s not just Todoroki’s looks that captivated him, although that’s what he noticed at first. And could you blame him? That boy is just so easy on the eyes, so fucking pretty. But after that came the easy conversation, the way it flowed so effortlessly, as though the two of them shared the same frequency. 

Getting himself hooked up in this affair was a terrible fucking idea, because now the only answer he can come up with for his marriage is a divorce. It seems that this has only made things more difficult.

He knows he should reflect more on this, maybe be a little more considerate, but the mystery message is still on his mind and he doesn’t really want to think about his problems right now. He will deal with it in due time, but right now he might as well forget about it for the time being. 

He sneaks into the bathroom and locks the door behind himself, seizing the opportunity to fill up the bathtub. A bath would be marvelous to unwind and clear his head a bit. 

He undresses quickly, and dips into the nearly boiling water, just the way he likes it, letting out a satisfied grunt. 

Then, he finally, finally reaches for his phone. 

He will admit he’s excited and even a bit nervous. This is something he hasn’t experienced in a long, long time. It makes him feel young and reckless again. 

The picture that pops up on his screen causes Katsuki to let out a groan that has nothing to do with the punishingly hot water against his skin. He pinches the screen and zooms in, taking in the details of pretty pink lips slightly parted, and his eyes follow down to notice the faded hickey just barely visible on his collarbone. Katsuki’s mark on him.

Thinking back now, maybe that was a bit territorial of him. But considering this new development, he doesn’t think the boy minded it too much—quite the opposite, if that’s any indication. Very naughty, considering he has a boyfriend. Katsuki wonders if their relationship is even that serious.

“Holy shit…” he croaks, huffing through his nose, still in awe. 

Of course, the surprise was well appreciated, his eyes carefully take in every other detail of the picture. He eyes the hem of the black shirt contrasting with pale thighs that he knows are strong and firm, the memory of his own hands gripping them still vivid in his mind. Katsuki imagines how it would feel to bite into them, or to stick his dick in the space between his legs, and fuck into that gap slowly. Katsuki knows he’s being ludicrously vulgar in his thoughts right now, but he can’t help himself. It’s this boy’s fault for being so fucking tempting.

His mind wanders farther, and he barely registers as his free hand dives between his legs, grasping his cock that’s already weeping, and begging for his attention, squeezing the base with a grunt.

He’s still not sure if Todoroki will agree to go on that date with him or not, but that picture suggests that the boy hasn’t turned him down yet either at least. He seems a lot more open to playing around and teasing than put off by the teacher’s straightforwardness.

Katsuki pumps his shaft a few times, and he feels poisoned, filled with a mixture of guilt and the thrill of something new, a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time. He breathes heavily, trying to picture how it would feel inside Todoroki. God, he wants to fuck that boy until he’s rearranging his organs to accommodate his cock inside him and fill up all the spaces within him.

Without further ado, Katsuki presses the call button. He feels more and more feverish with desire at each ring, it makes him feel as though he’s going to explode with anticipation, until he’s finally greeted by his student’s melodic voice.

“Mr. Bakugou?” He sounds surprised, and slightly wary. 

“Hey, pretty boy, you busy right now?” 

Katsuki’s voice is thick with pleasure, dragging out every word as he struggles to hold in an obscene moan as he wields his cock. Even though he’s in the bathroom and his husband is sulking in the living room downstairs, he still has to be mindful of the noise. 

“I quite enjoyed your little surprise…” he adds, licking his lips. 

“I wasn’t expecting you’d reply, to be honest.” Todoroki answers truthfully. The faint noises of what sounds like the rustle of sheets as someone shifts in bed catches Katsuki’s attention. “And I certainly wasn’t expecting you to call, like, at all.”

“Dammit, pretty boy.” 

Katsuki breathes deeply against the speaker and sinks further into the water, resting the back of his head on the edge of the bathtub. His cheeks feel hot, both from the steam and from the tingles of pleasure that make his toes curl.

“The things I’d like to do to you right now… Fuck, you have no idea…”

“Are you, uhm,” Todoroki starts and trails off, making Katsuki let out a breathy chuckle. “Are you jerking off to that picture, Mr. Bakugou?”

“Join me.” Katsuki suggests, challenging. 

“Right now? Over the phone?”

“Yeah… If you’re good, I’ll give you a reward after. Whatcha say?” 

Todoroki remains silent for longer than Katsuki’s impatience would like, while he throbs in his own hand. He can hear the sounds of rustling and moving around though, but he has no idea what the boy is doing.

“Are you gonna tutor me through the phone, sir?” He finally says.

Oh, he’s fucking cheeky. Katsuki loves it.

“Will you be a good student and do whatever I tell you?” He plays along, and Todoroki fucking giggles on the other end. 

“Maybe,” he says, and for whatever reason this is making Katsuki feel wild. 

“So if I tell you to stick your fingers inside yourself and finger your pretty little hole, would you do it for me?” 

Katsuki’s eyes roll back when he hears a little gasp, and he thrusts into his hand more vigorously, uncaring for his vulgar manners. 

“Come on, pretty boy, don’t leave me hanging.”

Todoroki almost purrs over the phone, the sound so melodic and sweet to Katsuki’s ears, as he hears more shuffling and rustling.

“Tell me how.” The boy says, maintaining the energy established in this interaction, and fuck —he’s so good. “I think I might need more instructions, Mr. Bakugou.”

-

Shouto bites his smile back, barely able to contain himself and how giddy he feels. He really wasn’t expecting that his two seconds of courage would lead to such a development, but he certainly isn’t complaining. 

Bakugou’s voice, all husky and deep like he was already caught up in the moment, makes Shouto feel funny. His stomach flutters, his chest feels warm and fuzzy at the thought that he was he one to instigate that reaction in his teacher. It’s hard to explain what he’s feeling right now, but it’s rather exciting.

“Are you in your bed right now?” Bakugou says a moment later, letting out a heavy sigh.

“Mm-hmm…” Shouto hums, letting his hand slide down slowly, playing with the hem of his shirt. He’s not wearing anything underneath, underwear long gone. He shivers as he touches his cock lightly, just to feel his growing arousal. Fuck, he’s so hard already.

He gnaws at his lip again before asking in a breathy voice, “What should I do now, sir?” and then waits for the next instructions.

“Get comfortable first.” Bakugou tells him. “Then I want you to stick your fingers in your mouth and suck on them, do it until they’re nice and wet. Can you do that for me?”

Shouto hums in response, smiling to himself, as he lets out a sweet little sigh. 

He shifts and settles into his favorite position, rolling onto his stomach and tucking a pillow underneath him so he can hump it. He had already grabbed a few things from his drawer in advance when he realized the direction that call was headed, so he already has everything he needs at his disposal. He even thought about getting some toys out, but he’s curious to see if he can get off just by being verbally instructed. He’s never tried it like this before. 

Evidently, Shouto knows what he’s doing, he’s just pretending he doesn’t to play into Bakugou’s fantasy. Touching himself is something that he enjoys doing quite a lot, actually. He loves playing with himself and testing his own limits, finding out what he likes and what gets him going. Of course, he would easily admit he likes it better when people do it for him instead, after all, there’s nothing Shouto loves more than being pampered and cherished during sex. He loves, loves, loves that kind of attention. He’s been told he’s kind of a pillow princess, but he’s not sure he agrees. He doesn’t just lie there and take it. He likes being spoiled, but he likes to participate too, and please his partner just the same. 

But this is fine, too. He might be about to discover something that he really enjoys. That’s why he does exactly what Bakugou tells him to. He brings his fingers to his mouth, gracing the other man’s ears with some slightly deliberate and louder noises than he usually would be. All the while, he imagines what it would be like to suck his cock, even if that isn’t even his favorite thing to do. It’s just that since he’d felt that bulge pressing against him through their clothes the other day in the car, it made him certain that what his teacher was packing was huge, and he was instantly very interested to see if he could fit all of that in his mouth. Shouto loves a challenge, after all.

“What should I do now, Mr. Bakugou?” he asks as he slides his fingers off his mouth. 

He hears a soft sound like water swishing from the other end and wonders if Bakugou is in the bath. His cock jumps against the pillow and he chokes on his breath at the image that his mind conjures. He wants to touch himself so badly, but he also wants to be good and wait for Bakugou’s instructions.

“I wany you to— fuck- ” Bakugou cuts himself off with a groan. It’s very heady. “Shit—I want you to just circle your rim, feel around yourself a bit until you’re completely relaxed.”

Shouto grins to himself at his words. It’s a bit tricky to do everything with just one hand in order to keep the phone pressed to his ear, but unfortunately he forgot to charge his earbuds again so that’ll have to do. He manages to grab the lube he’s left at the ready, and squirts some onto his fingers to make things easier for himself. It wasn’t a part of the instructions, but he’s not about to finger himself dry, it’s not something he enjoys. He thinks about teasing Bakugou about his lack of instructions, but that’s not the role he’s playing. Right now he’s supposed to be this inexperienced, innocent little thing.

When his fingers are nice and slick, he twists his arm back and guides his hand to his ass. He shivers as he squeezes one cheek playfully before he moves his hand further, circling around his hole, feeling it twitch and clench around nothing yet. His body is craving more already.

“Oooh my God…” He whines through the phone. “That feels nice…”

He swivels his hips and grinds down against the pillow, moaning as his cock throbs, soaking the pillowcase. 

Ideally, if they were doing this in person, Katsuki would be behind him teasing his hole and with his other hand on his cock, and Shouto would have his hands free to pinch his nipples. He loves to play or when they’re played with. It makes him shiver again as he feels how sensitive they are as they brush against the bed when he shifts.

“I want to feel good, Mr. Bakugou,” he pleads in this whiny, needy voice. “Can you teach me how to feel good?”

“I’ll make you feel so good, pretty boy.” Katsuki’s voice slightly falters, he pants so heavily that Shouto feels as though he’s right there with him. Just as he wishes he could be. “Come on, ease your fingers inside yourself, you can start with one if that’s easier, take it slow, there’s no rush.”

Shouto’s hair falls into his eyes as he focuses on the orders. It’s hard to ignore how the pet name makes his cock throb, trapped against the pillow as he eases a finger inside himself. He catches his lip between his teeth to hold back a moan but then remembers that the point of this is to let the other man hear him, so he doesn’t hold in the next moan, and this one is not a shy sound either.

He wiggles his finger slightly, stretching his muscles to squeeze in a second finger. He’s doing it at the pace he’s used to, but even then he’s met with a slight resistance. 

This makes him distantly aware that it’s been a while since he had sex with his boyfriend, but honestly, Hanta is the last thing on his mind right now. When he shuts his eyes, all he can see are red eyes and those big, experienced hands that don’t need to be guided to know exactly where they should touch. 

Just that thought alone makes Shouto clumsily jam his fingers deeper inside, as he ruts against the pillow. Fuck, he’s so horny, his cock is throbbing and leaking like crazy. He wants to touch himself there too, but it also feels arousing to deny himself if Bakugou didn’t tell him to do it. He compensates by stuffing himself with his fingers, clenching around them.

“Oh my God, Bakugou, this is good… I- fuck, more…” Shouto whimpers before he distantly remembers his good manners. “Please, sir. I need more… Can I have more?”

“Oh, you needy little thing.” Bakugou chuckles, low and husky into Shouto’s ear. He whines in response. “I’ll give you more. Spread your fingers inside, and tell me how it feels.” 

Shouto knows what he needs to do, he knows what he likes, but hearing the teacher talk like that makes him hotter than he’s felt in a while. He scissors his fingers, and whimpers as he brushes against the bundle of nerves inside himself that make him shudder, eyes rolling back at the sensation. Reflexively, he fucks into his pillow in an attempt to get some release.

“Good, feels good, hnng… So good…”

On the other side, Bakugou groans harshly, which encourages Shouto to reciprocate with his own appreciative sounds of pleasure, aiming his fingers at his spot. He’s so hard and aroused that he thinks he might be able to finish without even touching his cock at this rate.

“Mr. Bakugou, sir, I wish that was your cock inside me…” He almost purrs against the speaker, sounding so fucking needy. He would feel embarrassed if his mind was clearer, but when he gets like this, all he can do is moan and whine.

He keeps thrusting his fingers and curling them inside, his body sizzling. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be able to see Bakugou’s face as he’s about to cum, he probably looks so good, so handsome… His fantasies make his toes curl, Shouto wishes he could teleport to where the teacher is right now. He can picture his cock sliding deliciously inside him in a bathtub full of warm water, overflowing and splashing everywhere with every sloppy movement… God, Shouto wants to ride his teacher until his legs give out… 

“Shit, pretty boy, you are just perfect… Sound so good… I’m so close… Are you close too?”

Shouto can relate, he’s so close, too. 

“Yes, so close,” he tells him so. 

Just a little more and he’ll be reaching that sweet release that can only be achieved through a blissful orgasm. He wanted to savor this moment a little more, to stall a little longer, but his fingers found the perfect spot, the perfect rhythm, and his cock is getting the perfect amount of friction against the pillow, everything is just perfectly set up. He couldn’t hold back any longer if he wanted to.

“I wish you’d fill me up…” He whimpers. “Mr. Bakugou, please… please, please, please…” 

“Holy shit!” Bakugou growls, and Shouto knows he’s cumming, even if he can’t see him, the filthy sounds are telling.

He lets his phone slip from his grasp as he focuses on his own pleasure, whimpering and moaning as he pumps his fingers as deep as he can, burying his cock into the soft fabric of his pillow. His eyes roll all the way to the back of his head, his vision turns white as a rush of pleasure shoots through his entire body in an all-consuming orgasm that leaves his legs quivering. It registers distantly that he managed to finish without even touching his cock with his hand. Usually, he’s only able to do that when he has something bigger inside himself and the sex has to be insanely good for it to happen.

It takes Shouto a moment to come down from his orgasm. He’s a little dizzy as he tries to refocus, but his body feels relaxed and pliable as he wipes his sticky fingers on some tissues that he lazily pulls from the box he’d left ready closeby. He almost forgets for a second that he’s on a call, as he scrambles for his phone that had slipped between the sheets when he hears his name being called in a muffled voice. Bakugou’s voice is still a little raspy, but it’s closer to his usual steady, assured tone now.

“Bakugou?”

“Hello again,” he says, there’s an amused tinge on his tone. “I was worried you had passed out over there.”

Shouto’s eyes are too heavy for him to roll them at the tease, but he still entertains Bakugou with a tired chuckle. Now that the rush of adrenaline is wearing off, he feels his cheeks heat up and a small twinge of embarrassment as he starts to realize what he has just done.

Despite having done a couple naughty things in the past, he had never gone further than sending provocative texts, voice clips and some pics that were meant to pique his partners’ curiosity. He’d never done anything nearly as obscene as this, not even with Hanta.

“No, but… I think I need to hang up now…” As if on cue, a yawn punctuates his sentence. 

“Tired?”

“Mmhm… Sleepy…” He drags the word, snuggling into the bed, which feels so soft and nice now that he’s sated and content.

“Alright then.” Shouto hears a few other noises on the other end, but makes no effort to figure out what they might be. “I’ll see you on Monday, Shouto.”

“Yeah, Monday…” 

A few seconds passed and neither of them had hung up yet, until Katsuki finally speaks up, “Good night, pretty boy.” 

If Shouto had already graduated, he would sue this guy for using that voice, that damn tone, just to mess with him even more before hanging up.

Shouto sighs as he tosses his phone aside, and turns on his side, covering his face with both hands, feeling how hot his cheeks are.

He stays like this for a while, procrastinating getting up to throw his dirty sheets in the hamper as much as he can, but eventually he begrudgingly drags himself out of bed to do it before he ends up falling asleep in his own mess.

Just as he’s finally tucking himself in for the night, he hears a ping from a new text message, and he promptly picks up his phone, but as he sees it’s Hanta, he just sighs, deciding to deal with it tomorrow morning when he wakes up. It just feels kind of wrong to talk to him right now. Just as he’s about to put his phone back down, another message comes through, this time from Bakugou. He doesn’t even realize that he doesn’t hesitate to open this one.

| B.K.: I like to keep my promises. Night x

Shouto’s mouth goes dry as he stares at the pic he’s been sent. It’s a mirror selfie of his teacher standing in a nicely decorated bathroom, but that’s hardly the focus there. The highlight is Bakugou with nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist, and his body confidently on display. He has his glasses on too, perched on the tip of his nose. His wet hair slicked back like he just ran his hand through it right before snapping the picture. He just looks so good, it’s almost unfair.

Shouto bites his lip as he zooms in on every detail, the tattoos on his arms that he wants to trace with his fingertips, the defined lines of his abs, his pecks, the incredibly strong biceps and arms that could undoubtedly lift and hold Shouto’s weight up against a wall…

Shouto feels his cock twitch in interest, gnawing at his lip as he stares intently at his phone screen. It’s already so late, and he’s a little worn out from earlier, but his hand moves on its own accord and he hisses as he wraps his fingers around his dick, pumping himself lazily, already leaking precum. He knows he won’t last long, but he’s so thirsty for it, he can’t help himself, he needs this.

Meanwhile, the goodnight text from his boyfriend remains unread as he touches himself to fantasies of his Ethics teacher… 

Chapter Text

“Bakugou Katsuki, for realsies, honey, since when did you become this untamable slut? Oh my gosh!” Camie cackles obnoxiously, biting the straw of her too colorful and disgustingly sweet drink. “I mean, that’s totally wicked, I’m so proud of ya, babes!”

“There’s only one slut here, and that’s not me.” Katsuki rolls his eyes, but Camie doesn’t seem fazed, as she just laughs at his grumpy mood.

He scowls as he takes a sip of his drink like it had personally offended him. He knew he shouldn’t have taken a chance to try something new, he should have just stuck with the usual. 

“This tastes like shit,” he says, unhappily.

“Come on, cheer up, grumpy.” Camie bumps shoulders with him. 

The two were occupying the same stools they usually did at this bar they used to hang out at with other friends not too long ago. Eijirou used to come as well. It’s a place full of fond memories, but today in particular the nostalgia is swaying Katsuki, he feels bummed. Maybe they should have picked another place to meet. 

Maybe it’s time to let go of this too.

He shakes his head to dispel his thoughts and looks over to his friend. Camie is acting like she’s on a mission tonight—she’s determined to cheer him up. 

Katsuki thinks about the many times she cried on his lap about her countless heartbreaks, finding comfort in his angry diatribes against every scumbag who had broken her heart, and tonight, she’s here to offer the same support to her friend in need. It feels kind of endearing to Katsuki, even if he’s never going to admit it out loud.

Camie slurps the rest of her pink drink, producing an irritating noise at the end, before she pushes the glass aside to lean on Katsuki’s shoulder, getting closer to speak to him as if she’s about to tell him a secret.

“You fell in love with that angel, Kats.” 

“Fuck are you talking about? You drunk already?” Katsuki turns to her so abruptly that she almost falls from her stool, looking scandalized at what she’s suggesting. 

“Don’t lie to me, babes, I’ve known you for years!” She pouts her glossy lips, looking at him like she can read through his bullshit. He averts her eyes, looking ahead at nothing in particular. 

“It feels like I’m in a stalemate.” He grumbles, because since he’s here, he might as well talk. “There’s a lot of shit happening at once.”

Camie kisses his cheek and pats him twice on his back solemnly, pulling away as her arms slide across the counter to order another drink just like the one she had before. 

Katsuki quickly knocks back the rest of his now warm drink and slams the glass down, almost feeling sick as his throat burns. He leans over, catching the bartender’s attention to order another one, this time his usual, reliable one that he knows won’t taste like ass.

He had already solidified his decision to go through with the divorce after what happened during that phone call. He came out of the bathroom that night standing on weak legs from his orgasm, he felt sated, but then some guilt washed over him as he walked into their bedroom and found their bed empty. He went downstairs to find his husband asleep on the couch, the television still on. Katsuki carefully threw a blanket over Eijirou, turned off the TV, and took the opportunity to lean in and plant a kiss over the redhead’s temple, realizing that that was essentially a silent goodbye. It was him coming to terms with the fact that things between them were over. He could no longer continue deceiving himself or Eijirou.

The next day he called Camie to go to the bar because he really needed to take some of the edge off, and here they are now, sitting at the exact same place where they’d toasted the beginning and the end of his story with Eijirou. He’s not sure what to think or how to feel about this just yet.

“Kats, babes, your eyes light up when you talk about him.” Camie shamelessly squeezes his upper arm to get him to pay attention to her. “I thought I would never get to see you this hung up on someone.”

“Fuck off.” Katsuki slaps her hand away and frowns. “Why’d you keep grabbing me like that?”

“You’re a hottie, why wouldn’t I? Look at those big boy muscles!” She shrugs, pouting at him before she chuckles, grabbing her drink to take a long sip.

“You’re fuckin’ smashed already.” He barks with no real bite, but as she bursts out laughing for absolutely no damn reason, and the worst part is that it makes him follow, laughing like an idiot as well. Maybe he’s also more buzzed than he initially thought. 

As they enjoy more drinks, Camie wastes no time digging into the details of his teacher-student affair. The more Katsuki opens up, the more curious she gets to hear more juicy details about this kid who managed to sweep her friend off his feet like that.

“So, did you bang him yet?” 

“What the fuck?” Katsuki gasps, drumming his fingers impatiently on the bar counter. He knows Camie fairly well, she’s gonna pry, and pry, and fucking pry, and she’s not gonna be satisfied until he spills all the beans to her like a fucking school girl.

“Would you mind your own fucking business?”

“Nope.” She says, popping the p annoyingly. “Come on, spill the tea, bestie.”

“Fucking hell, you won’t drop it, will you?” He sighs, as she smiles around her straw, sipping on a green drink now; at this point, he’s certain she’s drunk the entire rainbow already. “Argh, not yet. We, uh, made out in my car on campus. And we—got each other off over the phone.”

It’s so unusual for him to feel shame about anything, and maybe it’s just the alcohol, but he can feel his cheeks getting more flustered as he speaks. That’s fucking embarrassing. There’s no way Camie is letting it fucking go.

“Oh!” She shouts excitedly, as if she was just told she’s won the lottery or something. He wonders, not for the first time, why on earth is he friends with her? 

(He knows the answer of course. Camie is loyal, and she can be serious when she needs to be. Not to mention she always lightens up his mood, God knows he needs a person like that in his life.)

 “And what are you waiting for to invite him on a date?”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” She cocks her head to one side and blinks, like a confused puppy. He gives her a pointed look. 

He doesn’t tell her he has already asked Todoroki out, but the boy still hasn’t given him a direct answer. A part of him doesn’t want to admit that Todoroki is currently calling the shots over this, as he keeps Katsuki waiting. He would like to say it wounds his pride, and maybe it partially does, but there’s another part of him that’s thrilled about it. It’s that cunningness that drew him in. He likes that it feels like he has to fight for it a bit. 

“Oh! Eijirou?” She exclaims. “Well, but didn’t you say you had already talked to your lawyer and filed for a divorce?” 

Katsuki snorts. “So what? I should just say fuck it all and do whatever I want? It doesn’t work like that.”

“Well, yes?” She says simply, and he rolls his eyes. “Why hold back if you already know that’s what you want? You’ve already done it anyway.”

“You’re the absolute fucking worst.”

Camie winks at him before she excuses herself to the bathroom. 

Once alone, Katsuki stares into his half empty glass and starts thinking. Once again, he’s pondering over his relationship with Eijirou. He wonders when did the love start to recede, and turn back into just friendship? His husband is one of the kindest, greatest people he’s ever met, but lately Katsuki feels that he has become more of a comforting presence rather than someone that makes his skin tingle with excitement and gets his heart racing.

Now Todoroki Shouto… Fuck. 

That boy has brought thrill and passion back into his life. Even though he’s so young, he’s not obnoxious like the majority of these frustrated kids his age. He’s so different, so unique. Katsuki wants to know more and more about him. He wants to hear the story behind that scar, and all the other stories about his life; he wants to learn about his childhood, his family… And he wants to take care of him too. He wants to take away that layer of sadness that sometimes he catches in his eyes.

Of course, he wants to fuck him too. Again and again, until they’re both satisfied. Sometimes Katsuki thinks he’ll get ill from so much want.

Maybe Shouto came into his life to free him, like a freaking angel, just like Camie said.

Later that night, after they lost count of how many drinks they had, Katsuki couldn’t figure out why he ended up bawling his eyes out while being comforted by the woman with the worst dating history in all of Japan. He made a mental note to never drink so much around Camie again, even though he enjoyed the cuddles and the release that came with the cathartic cry.

It wasn’t that fun later on at Camie’s house — because he refused to go home and let Eijirou see him like that — when he was in the bathroom, wrapped around the toilet instead and throwing up his guts, proof that he definitely had too much to drink. He’s not that young anymore to be doing that on a random Wednesday night.

-

Bakugou walks into class only a few minutes before the period started. He didn’t come in early this Monday like he’s been doing lately, and although Shouto doesn’t really want to admit it, he’s kind of bummed about it. 

The teacher’s eyes wander around the class before they land on Shouto, intense as always, making him tense up, as he glances over at Hanta, who’s giving Shouto’s hand a little massage over his desk. His heart thuds as his gaze shifts back to Shouto again. They haven’t seen each other since that phone call. It feels like an eternity before Bakugou starts speaking.

“So, let’s not waste any time here.” He tosses the stack of graded papers onto his desk and crosses his arms over his chest, glaring exasperatedly at the students. “I believe everyone remembers that assessment I administered a few weeks ago.”

The class immediately erupts in a flurry of people muttering and protesting.

“Hush!” Bakugou raises his voice, clapping two times, and that’s enough to make everyone shut up instantly. Shouto hates to admit that he finds it hotter than he should. “As I was saying, it doesn’t seem like any of you are taking this subject seriously, given that so few of you got a decent grade. In fact, only one of you aced it. It’s disappointing, you should be ashamed of yourselves.”

Shouto slumps further into his seat at that, feeling his cheeks flush as Bakugou carries on with his scolding. Hanta peers at him with a quizzical expression, moving closer, as he probably thinks Shouto’s worried about the test. He really isn’t. He already knows he aced it, he just wasn’t expecting to be the only one. 

His mind wanders to that day in Katsuki’s car, reminded of strong hands all over him, and his cheeks flush deeper.

“You seem worried, Shou.” Hanta mutters, trying not to draw the teacher’s attention. Shouto knows it’s useless, as Bakugou keeps throwing discreet glances in his direction. “I’m sure you did well.”

“You don’t know that…” Shouto mumbles. He’s not quite sure what to say.

“Actually, are you okay, babe?” Hanta takes his hand to feel up Shouto’s forehead. “You feel hot and you’re looking a little flustered.”

“What are you doing?” Shouto frowns, brushing Hanta’s hand away, as he senses a pair of different eyes burning into him. “I’m fine, I’m just a bit tired.”

It doesn’t look like Hanta believes him, but he doesn’t press further.

Katsuki picks up the assessments after his rant and starts handing them over, earning several displeased looks from all the students as they receive their papers. Shouto has to pull himself together as he catches himself checking out the teacher’s thighs and butt as he moves around, they look especially scrumptious in those tight jeans he's wearing.

Shouto shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He feels dirty. He wants his teacher so bad.

When Bakugou calls out his boyfriend’s name, Hanta raises his hand to be spotted and his face falls as he gets his paper, with a huge C scribbled at the top. Shouto wishes the ground would swallow him whole right then and there. He wouldn’t even know how to begin to explain how it feels to see the two of them interacting, it just doesn’t feel right. 

He’s having an existential crisis about this whole situation he’s gotten himself into, as the teacher turns around. Shouto holds his breath when the strong, tattooed arm comes into his line of sight, and he stares at his big hand splayed over his desk, as Bakugou places the test down, lingering for a moment longer before pulling his hand back. Shouto blinks at the A+ circled at the top. He’s certain there was an A- there before.

“Good job, Todoroki.” He snaps out of it when he hears Bakugou’s voice right next to him, he sounds a bit sarcastic, and Shouto has a feeling he’s in on the joke this time. 

“Thank you, Mr. Bakugou…” He mutters, watching the man nod as he moves to the next desk. 

Hanta claps his shoulder and gives a light squeeze, congratulating him on his grade, but Shouto barely hears it. He looks ahead, as Bakugou leans against his desk once he’s finished handing over the papers, and they lock eyes for another moment. 

At the end of the class, some students gathered around Mr. Bakugou’s desk to review some questions. Even Hanta had a few questions of his own regarding the corrections, but Shouto managed to convince his boyfriend to let it go, promising that he would help him review the subject later, only to avoid the two of them interacting directly once again.

“Ready to get lunch, then?” Hanta says, as he loads his material in his backpack.

“Sorry, I can’t today. I gotta finish an assignment for my next class, I kinda slacked off all weekend and forgot all about it.”

Hanta huffs, leaning over to give him a peck on the lips. “You gotta take better care of yourself, Shou. At least eat something as soon as you can, then.”

Shouto smiles, nodding at him. “Yeah, I will, don’t worry about it, Han.”

As soon as his boyfriend leaves, Shouto picks up Katsuki’s book, but he can’t really concentrate. He keeps glancing at the teacher, who is currently discussing something with a girl who seems much more interested in him than in the subject. He knows that thought is a little ridiculous and hypocritical, considering that Shouto himself has an odd relationship with the teacher, but that’s—whatever. 

He knows he’s been playing a dangerous game every time he dips his toes into the forbidden waters of this secret affair with his teacher. That’s part of the reason why he hasn’t given him a proper answer yet. He still doesn’t know what going out with him would entail.

Sex, of course. He’s not dumb, he knows that’s what they both want. Ashamed or not, he has admitted to himself that he wants to bang his teacher. But is there anything else? Does he want more? 

For a guy who’s as good-looking, smart, and successful as Bakugou, it should be clear to Shouto that their involvement is just some kind of distraction from a marriage that’s seemingly falling apart, or lost the spark. Shouto isn’t naive, he’s seen Bakugou wearing his wedding ring plenty of times, even though lately the ring hasn’t been there anymore. He cannot entertain any kind of hope. He shouldn’t.

He’s almost certain that everything will be over by the end of the semester, and thinking about it only makes him retreat further into himself. He wants to suppress his feelings, haunted by thoughts of rejection, and the idea of being used as a toy by an older man.

The issue is that part of him finds that kinda hot—

“You’re still here, pretty boy.” Bakugou’s voice cuts through his thoughts from across the room. The tone he uses is different from his usual “teacher voice”. It’s softer, and Shouto lets himself believe for a moment that it’s reserved for him. Shouto looks up, noticing that’s because they’re finally alone.

He tucks the book into his bag and slings it over his shoulder, walking toward the teacher, who already has his stuff gathered, too.

“You didn’t show up earlier before class today.” Shouto bites back the pout that threatens to form, not wanting to sound childish even if he’s feeling frustrated, and he doesn’t even know why. “And now it looks like you’re already leaving…”

Bakugou studies him for a moment, twirling a key around his index finger as he starts walking.

“Follow me,” he commands, simply.

And like a well-trained pet, Shouto does. 

He doesn’t say a word as his feet follow right behind the teacher, feeling his heart thumping in his chest. He’s feeling kind of weird, and he doesn’t want to be feeling that way, so he tries to sweep it all under the rug, at least for now. 

The two go up a few flights of stairs until they reach a battered door. He watches Bakugou struggle with the lock for a moment before yanking it open to reveal a storage room filled with old computers, monitors, projectors, and all kinds of junk.

“After you, princess.” Bakugou says, gesturing with his tattooed arm as he holds the door to let Shouto in. The place is only dimly lit by sunlight seeping through the crack between thick, dusty red curtains.

Shouto closes his eyes and holds his breath for a moment as he hears the door click shut. He turns to Bakugou a moment later, his teeth dig into his bottom lip as he looks up at him. 

The man gingerly tosses his folder onto an old table nearby, grinning. Shouto lets out a sharp exhale as he steps closer, his large, calloused hands cupping his jaw to pull him into a hungry kiss, no reservations.

Shouto gasps when he’s backed into a wall, almost crashing into some shelves. The teacher’s hands travel down, stopping at his hips and digging his fingers into the fabric of his clothes, so sure of where to touch. Shouto wraps his arms around Bakugou’s broad shoulders, opening his mouth a little wider as he angles his head, letting out a muffled sound as he feels Bakugou lick into his mouth, slow and erotic. Fuck, he’s such a good kisser. His head is swimming. He could do this for hours and not get sick of it.

“Bakugou…” Shouto whispers, leaning back slightly, to breathe and clear his head a little. They’re still so close that he can feel the moist lips brushing against his as he speaks. His knees feel weak, he’s practically hanging onto the other man to keep himself upright.

“No, say my name,” the man says, shaking his head slightly. “Say Katsuki.”

And oh, that does something to his heart. This new opening feels more intimate than anything.

“Katsuki…” He breathes out, tasting the name on his tongue. “Is it okay for us to be here?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Bakugou barks with no real bite, reaching up to gently stroke just below his scar before his thumb slides down, pressing against his lower lip. “Shit, thought I was gonna go crazy if I didn’t touch you soon.”

Shouto’s breathing hitches, he feels the teacher’s arousal press against his own, as the man bucks his hips, leaning forward and pressing his lips against his jaw. 

“Then touch me, Katsuki,” he whispers, still getting used to how the name rolls off his tongue. “Touch me everywhere, sir.”

His tone seems to spark Bakugou’s hunger further, and that’s everything he was looking for. The man growls, attaching his lips to Shouto’s neck, and he tilts his head to the side, giving him full access to his skin. 

He feels hot all over, like he’s coming down with a fever. A surprised gasp slips past his lips as Bakugou wraps both hands around his ass cheeks and lifts him off the floor with ridiculous ease. Shit, but that turns him on in such a way… His arms… So fucking strong…

“What was that?” Bakugou prompts with a smirk, as he drops him onto a large old conference table in the center of the room, wedging himself between his legs. Shouto’s face flushes a deep red as he realizes he might have voiced some of his thoughts out loud amidst his daze.

He tries to look away, but the man’s hand is quicker and suddenly his jaw is being gripped and held in place, forcing him to look up, unable to turn away from those piercing crimson eyes.

Since he won’t be able to wallow in his embarrassment, he swallows his shame, and runs his hands over the muscles of Bakugou’s arms, biting his lip as he feels them under his fingertips.

“I said you’re so strong, Mr. Bakugou, sir .” He squeezes him lightly. Saying his first name feels good, but this little taut is their thing. It has an immediate effect on the man everytime. Shouto loves to watch the subtle reaction when he uses it in class, in front of everyone, and the people around are none the wiser of how affected he truly is. “I like it.”

He watches now as the dark of Bakugou’s pupils enlarge, swallowing up the red almost completely. He looks predatory like this. Shouto sucks in a breath as Bakugou moves his hand to the back of Shouto’s head first, fingers threading through his hair as he kisses him, rough, and hungry, and all-consuming. His hands are moving again, too, he’s unbuttoning Shouto’s shirt with clever, nimble fingers. Shouto bares his neck for him, shivering at the teeth grazing over sensitive skin.

Shouto’s nails scrape over the dusty wood as he steadies himself when Bakugou’s eagerness makes him tumble back slightly, as the man presses himself against him. 

He shivers again as Bakugou’s warm tongue glides over his collarbone, and when his teeth graze one of his nipples, he can’t hold in the whiny sound that escapes him, belatedly bringing his free hand to his mouth to muffle the noise. 

This is much more intense than the dreams he’s been having for a while now, the ones where he wakes up horny and frustrated, and ends up with his own fingers shoved inside himself, desperately whimpering into his pillows. This is real. It’s really happening.

Bakugou’s mouth continues to descend, sucking on bits of his skin without any concern that he might leave marks. Shouto thinks that maybe he should warn him to be careful, out of consideration for his current relationship that still exists, but that’s far from a concern in the foreground of his mind at the moment. Bakugou digs his fingers into his thighs, and Shouto feels as if he’s brandishing him through his clothes.

Shouto runs his fingers through—surprisingly soft—spiky blond hair and hangs on to it with both hands like a lifeline, arching his back slightly as he throws his head back, granting him more room, as if he wants to be devoured by his teacher. He does, he wants it in every way, from every angle. He wants to feel every wet touch of his tongue, his firm grip, he wants to feel his cock— 

“You have no right to be so fucking perfect.” Bakugou grumbles against his skin, igniting it with his touch. When he pulls back slightly, Shouto tilts his face back up, and finds scarlet eyes tinged with lust, picking apart every detail. 

He gasps in surprise as Bakugou grabs one of Shouto’s hands suddenly and guides it down, down, down, encouraging him to cup his bulge, and pressing his palm against it. His confidence and assertiveness is so fucking hot, too.

“You feel that? That’s what you’re doing to me.” Bakugou growls, rolling his hips. Shouto grinds his hand against him, feeling the shape and weight over his pants. His lips part, his breathing falters as he upholds the eye contact. 

“Shit, want you so bad.” Bakugou whispers gruffly. “I need to fuck you…” 

He leans forward, capturing Shouto’s mouth again. He catches his lower lip between his teeth, making Shouto hiss, before they’re kissing again until Shouto is panting against his mouth from lack of oxygen.

Despite his words, Bakugou doesn’t try to move things further, probably waiting for some form of consent from Shouto. He still ruts against his hand, like he’s desperate for it.

“Yes, want it too…” Shouto whispers back, he can hear how needy his voice sounds. “But we can’t—ah, do that here.”

Which would be kind of hot, to sneakily do it in a dirty storage room at the university. But that would be too easy, and deep down, part of him wants to see if the teacher is serious about all of this. If he really wants him the way he says he does, and if he would wait a little longer to get it because he thinks Shouto is worth it. 

He combs his fingers through blond hair, messing it up as he leans in to kiss him again. He sets the pace, languid and sensual, savoring it. Katsuki doesn’t try to take the control of the kiss away from him, he relinquishes it to Shouto actually, who feels empowered by it. This is truly addicting. Like one of his wildest wet dreams come true.

His mind is a little hazy right now, but like this it’s easier to commit to the potentially reckless decision he’s just made. 

Shouto slowly slides off the table, reaching up with both hands to grab the teacher’s shoulders, squeezing as he flips their positions determinedly, pressing the blond against the table. The man doesn’t seem to mind this development, he looks at him curiously as Shouto’s fingers shake while he undoes the buttons of Bakugou’s burgundy shirt, revealing his jacked body. His mouth goes dry, Shouto licks his lips, thinking that it’s almost unfair how every detail of Bakugou looks like a Greek sculpture of an Olympian god.

“There’s still something I can do for you, Mr. Bakugou sir.” Honey drips from Shouto’s lips as he speaks. The teacher reaches for Shouto’s nape and pulls him in for another kiss. 

“Such a brat,” Bakugou croaks, pressing his fingers against Shouto’s skin. “Calling me that way in that tone.”

Shouto smiles, masking his uneasiness as he slides the zipper of Bakugou’s pants down, as slow as he can. He’s doing it, he’s not going to cower from this, but that doesn’t mean he’s not slightly nervous about the whole thing. 

He’s fantasized about this, too. Countless times. But actually getting to do the stuff he once fantasized about with Bakugou makes him anxious, he doesn’t want to be seen as a desperate little boy. He wants to entice him, so that he doesn’t forget about him so easily. 

“You don’t like it?” Shouto asks, cocking his head to the side and blinking innocently at him before he presses his lips to the exposed skin right in the middle of Bakugou’s pectorals. He traces a path down with his lips, as he slides down himself, lowering the teacher’s pants as he goes until he’s on his knees. He takes a discreet, calming breath without looking up, and yanks the man’s underwear down. His eyes widen as Bakugou’s cock springs free, he’s fully hard, Shouto can see all the defined veins, the shape slightly curved, the dampened mushroom tip. “It sure doesn’t look like it bothers you. Quite the opposite, actually, sir. ”

He doesn’t miss the way his dick twitches at the words. Bakugou’s fingertips touch his forehead as he brushes his hair away from his eyes, and he finally looks up. 

“Like what you’re seeing?” Bakugou says, his big hand cupping half of his face. “Don’t be scared, angel, you can touch it too.”

Shouto pouts, but another part of his mind gets hyperaware of the new pet name. Bakugou hadn’t used that one before. Shouto likes it, his own dick jumps inside his pants at it as proof. He wishes the teacher could feel it in his hand. He has to bring his own hand down and readjust himself, it’s still uncomfortable, but he’s not focused on himself right now.

He stops wasting time, curling his hand around Bakugou’s cock tighter, feeling him throb against his palm immediately.

“I’m not scared,” he replies petulantly, sliding his hand up and down as he smiles to himself when that makes the man pant. He knows Bakugou’s pent up, it’s clear how much he needs this. The angry red at the tip of his dick doesn’t lie. 

“You planning on doing something with it anytime soon, or are you just gonna keep admiring it?” 

“Never heard that patience is a virtue, Mr. Bakugou?” Shouto teases, turning his attention back to the dick in front of him. He sticks out his tongue, flattening it before he licks a good, fat stripe over the entire length, already tasting the slightly salty and bitter taste as his tongue swipes the tip. 

Bakugou’s hand moves, fingers flexing, tightening around his hair, not too much at first. Shouto takes it as encouragement, slowly licking at one side first, then repeating the action at the other, slobbering all over his cock as he gets used to the weight and texture, calming himself down a bit to not appear too eager. 

Once he’s gained enough confidence, he looks up through long, double-colored lashes, and opens his mouth, starting to swallow Bakugou’s dick ever so slowly, relaxing his jaw and his throat. It immediately weights on his tongue, the smell hitting his nostrils is so distinctive, and so intoxicating, and addicting. He goes as far as he can go without triggering his gag reflex, the pressure against his hair is heady, though, it makes him want to take more in.

He starts to bob his head, using his hand to create pressure where he hasn’t tried to fit into his mouth, at least not yet. He thinks he’s doing well, but as Bakugou bucks his hips, he still ends up choking on it, and he has to pull off his dick to cough. Fucking embarrassing. So much for trying to be sexy.

Bakugou must’ve picked up on his distress, because his fingers are curling around his chin, and he’s pulling him forward, looking at him with slightly wide eyes, pupils all black, filled with lust.

“It’s alright, angel,” he coos, nudging his mouth open and guiding his cock back home. Shouto doesn’t protest, he opens up easily for him despite himself. “My pretty, pretty angel, you’re doing so good.”

He closes his eyes, relaxing under the praise as Bakugou’s gravelly voice soothes him. If he’s saying so, it must be true, and he must be doing something right. He picks up the pace, sucking his teacher off as if he’s been made for this purpose. There’s nothing in his mind at this moment, he’s focused entirely on making the older man feel good. 

It’s really flattering when he looks up, and catches a glimpse of Bakugou forcing himself to bite the back of his hand to stifle his sounds. This spurs him on, and he doubles his efforts, pushing the man closer towards his release. Shouto’s own dick remains neglected within the confines of his increasingly suffocating, and tight clothes, soaking his underwear with his arousal. If he had half a mind to think about it, he would be thankful for choosing dark pants to wear today, the mess will be harder to notice this way.

Shouto can see this becoming an addiction, even though giving head isn’t even something he’s particularly fond of in general; he’s always let his partners do most of the work in that regard, never minded receiving them, of course, he just didn’t care much about doing it himself.

But right now? Oh, right now he is reveling in the responses he’s getting out of his teacher’s body, the way he quivers, and throbs under his ministrations. In a way, despite Shouto being the one on his knees, he feels in control here. He never really imagined this could be so delightful.

Shouto can tell Bakugou isn’t far from reaching his climax, his thrusts have become sloppier, and his words much more vulgar and carefree. Shouto feels slightly alarmed for a fraction of a second—he doesn’t really swallow, usually. But he surprises himself as he realizes that he’s anticipating it now. For some reason, when it’s the teacher, all of those dirty little acts that he’s avoided in the past seem to have a certain appeal.

In the back of his head, Shouto reckons this has a lot to do with his desire to impress the older man. He feels this crushing urge to prove to him that he’s not just some clueless child, but a man who can handle whatever Bakugou throws at him. He gets a rush of pride whenever he feels like he can level the playfield and make up for his flaws and inexperience, even if just a little.

“Shouto, I’m so close—fuck. That pretty mouth of yours—shit. Gonna cum soon.” 

The announcement is accompanied by a rough tug on Shouto’s hair that makes him whimper. The action is meant to be merciful on Bakugou’s end, as he attempts to keep himself from emptying his load into his mouth, but Shouto doesn’t stop. In fact, he doubles down on his efforts, and even more obscene, wet sounds fill the room. At some point, he circles his tongue around the head of the teacher’s cock when he needs to breathe, but quickly goes back to swallowing it, determined to bring the man to his peak.

“If you keep this up—fuck… If you keep this up I’m not gonna be able to—hold back.” Bakugou digs his fingers so tightly into his scalp that Shouto feels tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. The teacher claws at the edge of the table with his other hand, and Shouto can tell he’s holding back.

He pulls off his cock with a wet pop for just a second, his lips still touching the tip.

“Then do it,” Shouto croaks sweetly. “Cum for me?”

He only has a second to watch as the teacher’s eyes roll back to the back of his head as Shouto dives back in, daring to swallow him deeper this time, pushing his embarrassment to the back of his mind as he gags around it until his eyes water some more. 

Bakugou comes undone, unable to hold back any longer.

His orgasm is powerful, as intense as the man himself. He bends forward slightly as he cums, shooting more than Shouto was expecting into his mouth, and inevitably some of it drips down his chin as he gags more around it. He squeezes his eyes shut and just lets himself feel it. Shouto still isn’t fond of the taste, but his cock jumps at the thought of how dirty everything they’re doing feels. 

He finally lets go of his cock and dutifully swallows everything he can, licking his lips, and wiping his chin with the back of his hand. Everything is sticky and a little gross, but even that feels kinda hot, it’s so raunchy. Shouto is panting, trying to recover. His chest swelling with pride after making the teacher cum like that. 

If it had taken a little longer, Shouto is sure he would have creamed his pants without even being touched, just from the sight of the blond spilling inside his mouth as he basically fucked his throat with abandon. Shouto looks up before he starts to pull himself up, tugging the teacher's pants back up as he stands on shaky legs. He still can't quite believe what he just did. He should be feeling ashamed, guilty even, but in reality, he just knows he would do this all over. He still wants more.

He forgets about the time momentarily as Bakugou gets a hold of his face and pulls him in, swallowing any protest as the teacher seems to be enjoying tasting himself on Shouto’s tongue. He feels light-headed, even more than before. He lets the man maneuver him, reversing their positions so now Shouto is the one being pressed against the table once more. Bakugou’s hands are everywhere, groping, feeling him up, squeezing his butt real good, and fuck, Shouto wants him bad. He’s almost spreading his legs for him subconsciously.

It’s a little frustrating that he can’t have more, at least not right now. When Bakugou’s lips start kissing down his neck, and his clever hands fumble with his pants’ zipper, Shouto comes to his senses and grabs his wrist, preventing him from going any further. 

“What’s wrong?” Bakugou pulls away enough to look at him, he looks slightly confused at the sudden rejection. Shouto returns his gaze, almost getting lost in the deep red sea that are his eyes. He bites his lip and sighs.

“We’ve been here for a while and I, uh, I still have to go to class…” he grimaces. “I’ve got an assignment to hand in…”

Which is true, as much as he would like to stay, not handing that assignment over would cost him a great deal. He can already hear his father shouting at him in his head, and he would like to avoid that scolding at all costs.

Bakugou frowns before checking his watch. “Shit, you’re right, it’s fucking late!” 

-

Katsuki is pretty sure that if he pushed a little harder, he wouldn’t meet any resistance, but instead he just presses his lips against his student’s and then backs away. The boy moves to collect his stuff and smooth out his rumpled clothes, brushing the dust off his knees, and trying to fix his hair, to try and look more presentable in an attempt to not expose what had transpired in that room. Katsuki takes the opportunity to button his own shirt back and fix his clothes, leaning against the table, crossing his arms as he waits for Todoroki to get ready.

The boy nods and looks away, his cheeks still flushed. He looks almost innocent and angelic like this, and Katsuki would believe it if he hadn’t seen exactly how he can turn into a little devil in the blink of an eye. Katsuki doesn’t say anything as the two walk to the door, but before he opens it, the blond snatches his student by the chin and forces him to look at him.

“Yes?” Todoroki stammers as he blinks at him.

“I’m still waiting for an answer, you know?”

“An answer?”

“Playing hard to get I see.” Katsuki huffs. He can’t believe he’s letting a boy play him like this. He lets go of his chin, but keeps himself close enough to him still. “My invitation. Do you wanna go out with me or not, pretty boy?”

“Oh.” Todoroki says. “Yeah. We can do that.” Then he hesitates for a moment, like he’s remembering something, before adding, “The weekend after this one, if it’s cool with you?”

Katsuki would rather they did it this weekend, but he’s not going to push it.

“Perfect. I can pick you up at your house then by—”

“No!” Katsuki frowns, not expecting that sudden harsh reaction, but he waits to see what he’ll say next. “I mean, you don’t have to pick me up at my house, I can meet you here!” His demeanor shifts a bit, he looks and sounds nervous, maybe even a little frantic. “Text me the time, and I’ll be waiting for you out front on campus, okay? It’s… better this way.”

Katsuki narrows his eyes, sensing something is amiss, but he decides that even though his curiosity has been piqued, this is not the time to pry into Todoroki’s personal life. He figures that maybe he just still lives with his parents, and it would be weird for a much older teacher to show up at their door with every intention of luring their son into hedonism, even though that wasn’t the only thing on his mind when he asked him out.

He really wants to get to know him better, to talk outside the academic environment. Katsuki understands the circumstances. He knows that the boy still has a boyfriend, and that his situation with his husband is still delicate, and that perhaps nothing will come of this peculiar and complicated relationship they are forming here. Still, he wants to spend time with him, as much of it as he’s allowed to.

“If you’re more comfortable that way, then yeah, I’m cool with it.”

“Yeah.” He smiles. Katsuki feels stupid when his heart skips a beat. He’s too old for this. “Thank you, Mr. Bakugou.”

“Katsuki.” He corrects, and once again Todoroki smiles, cheekier this time.

“Oops. Sorry, Katsuki. ”

Katsuki huffs, rolling his eyes as he finally opens the door, just so he doesn’t have to deal with that pretty little face with mesmerizing eyes blinking innocently at him, because if he stays there with him for another second, he wouldn’t be able to answer for his actions, and he doesn’t want to be the reason Todoroki fails his other classes.

-

Luckily, Shouto wasn’t too late for his next class, even as he needed to chill out in the bathroom for a bit after parting ways with his teacher to cool down. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to take care of the problem between his legs, and it was a bit of a struggle to make it go away because his mind kept going back to what they’ve done. He wanted more than anything to just go back to that moment, and pick up where they left off. 

“Where were you?” Hanta inquires as soon as he plops down on his seat next to him, and Shouto grimaces. “Been looking for you all over campus.”

“I was at the library.” Shouto lies through his teeth.

As expected, Hanta immediately snaps back sharply, “And how come I didn’t see you there?!”

It wasn't a particularly clever lie, he realizes, because it was pretty obvious that the library would be the first place anyone would look for him. But his mind is still too rattled for him to come up with a better, more well-thought-out excuse, so he freaks out and just blurts out the first thing that comes to mind before he glances at the Political Economy professor, giving them both the stink eye as they whisper.

“Maybe you just didn’t look properly…” Shouto tries to diffuse the situation, gesturing for Hanta to look ahead. “Let's pay attention to the lecture, she’s already glaring at us, we can talk later.”

Even though he seems thwarted, Hanta drops it to Shouto’s relief. He feels crappy for lying like that, but what else could he do? He’s still pretty confused, about everything. Part of him doesn’t want to just mess everything up just to end up alone in the end, when he’s inevitably ditched by his teacher once the fun is over.

He convinced himself that this would be his college adventure, his act of recklessness, and after that he’ll be a good boy. After the weekend with Bakugou, he’ll sort out his complicated feelings and patch things up with Hanta. 

But he needs to live this moment. He needs to follow his heart, and see what’s going to happen. Is it ethical to do so? Probably not. It’s definitely not right, but it’s how he’s going to handle it anyway.

When the class is over, Hanta comes up to him again as they're gathering their stuff to leave. “Wanna come home with me today? We can watch a movie or something.” His voice sounds off, Shouto can tell. The two start walking side by side, leaving the class. Early into their relationship, Shouto would often brush Hanta's hand when he wanted him to hold his hand, but he’s a bit startled now when Hanta snatches his hand roughly, a bit too harshly.

Shouto isn’t stupid, he can tell when his boyfriend is mad or upset about something, but right now he’d rather not say anything and risk starting an argument about stuff he can’t really explain just yet.

“I don't know, Hanta, I’ve got a lot to study…” He doesn’t try to break free, at least not until they cross the hallway. But then he sees the Ethics teacher walking their way, and it makes him nervous.

 “What are you doing?” Hanta asks immediately when he notices Shouto wrenching his hand free, as he puts some distance between them. “Shit, it’s that asshole teacher. I can’t stand that guy.”

Shouto frowns.

“Nothing, I just...” Bakugou walks past them, and what’s more, he flashes Shouto a subtle wink, taking advantage of the fact that Hanta can’t see him from where he’s standing. Shouto shakes his head, completely disconcerted, turning his gaze back to his boyfriend. “It’s just that you know I don't like doing these things in front of the teachers…” 

“And since when do you care about that, Shouto? We used to do a lot worse in high school.”

“This is different, Hanta…” He starts walking away, desperate to escape that place, it was starting to feel suffocating over there. Hanta has to sprint walk a little faster to keep up with him because Shouto was leaving him behind.

“You’ve been acting really strange lately.” Hanta says, sounding really annoyed. 

Shouto stops in his tracks. He racks his brain for something to say, but ultimately thinks better of it, and keeps his mouth shut. He just turns around, and draws closer, resting his hands on Hanta’s shoulders, flashing his sweetest expression.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’ve just been really stressed out with college and my dad at home.”

He blinks a few times, and Hanta’s expression immediately softens as if under a spell. “Will you forgive me?” 

Hanta sighs, reaching up to tuck a strand of Shouto’s hair behind his ear. He leans in and kisses him briefly, and Shouto lets him.

“I just miss you, it feels like we don't have any time for each other anymore,” Hanta says, pulling Shouto into a hug. Shouto nods against his chest, sighing.

“I know,” he says, feeling extremely guilty. What is he doing? He looks up, focusing on Hanta’s dark eyes. “But there’s that party on the weekend, right? Maybe we can have some fun then.”

“Are you going with me then?”

“If you want me to.”

“Of course I do!” 

Shouto smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes. Hanta doesn’t seem to notice, leaning in to kiss him. Shouto lets him do it as well. 

Chapter Text

Hanta is sitting with some girls from their class, as Shouto catches him. He sits down beside him for lunch, smiling as his boyfriend kisses his cheek, digging into his food as he listens to their conversation.

“Oh, Shouto! Perfect timing!” This girl, Setsuna, Shouto’s not too sure, he’s not very good with names, says. “Let’s settle this! Do you think Mr. Bakugou is hot?”

“What?” Shouto’s eyes widen as he chokes on his juice, taken off guard by the question and the subject. Hanta starts to rub his back, as he coughs and splutters until his eyes are burning and watering.

“Are you okay?” His boyfriend asks worriedly, as Shouto tries to recover.

“Yeah, sorry…” He clears his throat, it’s scratchy now and his voice comes out rough from coughing so much. “That just went down the wrong pipe…”

“He got shy ‘cause his boyfriend is here.” The other girl, Pony, chips in, accent thick as she laughs. Shouto was hoping his coughing fit would at least shift their focus and make them forget about it and drop the subject, but unfortunately, today doesn’t seem to be his lucky day.

“You’re a bitch.” Hanta grumbles, but Shouto knows it’s lighthearted, they’ve always treated each other like this. This girl is an exchange student here, but she’s known Hanta for a long time, so they are very comfortable with each other. She cackles as she flips him off, rolling her eyes.

“I, uh, don’t find him interesting.” Shouto says evenly, trying really hard not to think about the storage room, and Bakugou’s hands on him, and his—

“See, I told you.” Thankfully, Hanta’s voice cuts through his thoughts before his mind can dive deeper into those recent memories.

“Oh, come on, Shouto, that’s not what I asked, though!” Setsuna argues with mirth, sticking out her tongue at Hanta. “I mean yeah, we all know the guy is rough, but he’s probably the hottest teacher we have around here. You guys have to agree!”

“Nah, Shouto is right, there’s nothing interesting about that guy,” Hanta says. “Plus, he’s a total ass. You two are just delusional.”

“We’re not discussing his personality, babe!” Pony counters, then she sighs dreamily. “Damn, but it’s such a shame he won’t even look in my direction.”

“He does get into some passionate arguments with Shouto in class,” Setsuna notes. “You should try that.”

“Yeah, but Shouto is a total teacher’s pet, and I’m not a masochist!” The other girl laughs. He feels Hanta shift slightly beside him.

“Hey!” Shouto protests.

“You know it’s true, babe,” Setsuna says. 

“I’m not looking to get destroyed by him intellectually.” Pony points out.

“You sleezy bitch, how are you looking to get destroyed then?” He friend laughs.

“Ohhh, you know, girl!” 

Shouto feels his throat close up, swallowing thickly, as the sting of jealousy pierces through him. It’s fucking stupid, but he can’t really help it. There’s a part of him that feels smug that he was the one on his knees for the teacher only a few days ago, while these girls keep dreaming about being in that same position. He feels special in a way.

“Isn’t he married anyway?” Hanta’s voice pulls Shouto out of his musings once again, and he realizes he’s been cutting his food into a million tiny pieces for a while instead of eating it. He shoves a bite into his mouth just so he can’t flee from the conversation, he can’t even taste it now.

Pony shrugs. “I’m not the jealous type.” She cackles, and her friend follows.

“You’re incorrigible.” Hanta shakes his head ruefully.

“Anyways, guys, are you going to the party this weekend?”

Hanta looks at Shouto before answering, as if he’s looking for confirmation. He nods in affirmation, still chewing on his food, thankful for the subject change.

“Yeah, we’ll be there.”

“Do you think Mr. Bakugou would show up if we invited him?” 

Shouto struggles to swallow his food, but thankfully this time he doesn’t choke.

“Ew, why would you want to invite a teacher? You know how wild those parties can get. We do not want them to know about it,” Hanta argues.

“Eh, I don’t know, Mr. Bakugou kinda looks like the type who wouldn’t mind it. Besides, he wouldn’t be the first, sometimes we catch Mrs. Kayama at some of those parties with her wife.”

“Nah, I fucking doubt it,” Hanta says. “And it’s not the same. Mrs. Kayama is cool. That guy looks like the type who would call the cops on us and ruin all the fun.”

“Boo, you’re no fun, Hanta.” Pony gives him a thumbs down, but fortunately, they move on to another subject soon after that, which Shouto is glad they did because a second more of them talking about Bakugou and he would probably spontaneously combust. 

—

Hanta pulls Shouto closer, snuggling up on the couch as he brings the joint to Shouto’s lips. Shouto takes a short hit, and coughs, pulling his face away. He doesn’t want to get too baked so early into the party, even though that’s usually Hanta’s idea of a good time. He takes a sip of his drink, it’s his second already, as he looks around. This party is very crowded because the host is some popular guy, or so Shouto heard, he doesn’t really care. He doesn’t know the host, and neither does Hanta, but his friends do. 

“Hey, don’t hog that!” Kyoka complains, as she snatches the joint from Hanta’s hand. 

“I bought it!” Hanta shoots back, but he doesn’t try to get it back, as Kyoka offers it to Momo, who only shakes her head, taking a graceful sip from her drink. Kyoka then passes it to Pony instead, who promptly takes it.

Shouto is happy that Momo and Kyoka agreed to come, they’ve recently started dating, and they’ve been on their honeymoon phase, only wanting to spend time with each other like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. It’s fine, Shouto understands that, but he misses their company. It’s not that he doesn’t like the other girls, he gets along with them just fine, but they are more Hanta’s friends than his, so he feels a little out of place, and it’s more comfortable when the other two are there because he’s closer to them, especially Momo, who he has known for a really long time.

Shouto considered telling her about his fling with Katsuki, to ask for some advice on what he’s supposed to do, but he just couldn’t work up the courage to do that. He feels ashamed, and he doesn’t want to be judged badly. He has a feeling Momo would advise him to stop, and he doesn’t really want to do that. As bad as he knows that is, he just keeps wanting to see where that goes. He doesn’t really want to hurt Hanta either, but each day, he thinks that breaking up will be the eventual outcome. He thinks his father would be thrilled, he never liked Hanta at all. That thought revolts him. He doesn’t want to think about that right now.

He refocuses on the party. They drink and chat some more, and by the time Pony announces that she wants to dance jumping to her feet, clapping her hands excitedly, Shouto is already feeling a little bit tipsy. Maybe he should’ve listened to Fuyumi and eaten something before he headed out but alas, now it’s too late to lament another bad choice.

“Dancing sounds fun,” Kyoka says. “You want to, babe?”

Momo smiles and nods, getting to her feet as well and grabbing her girlfriend’s hand. Hanta nuzzles the side of his face, and kisses his cheek, and Shouto is about to turn his head to kiss him, but he catches a glimpse of what he thinks it’s a familiar figure making their way toward the makeshift dance floor, and his heart races.

It can’t be.

He still turns, and plants a quick kiss to Hanta’s lips before he starts to pull away.

“I’ll go with you!” He announces, disentangling himself from Hanta already. “Uhm, you’re gonna come too, Han?” He turns to his boyfriend to ask, but deep down, he’s hoping he refuses.

“Nah, I’ll stay here with Setsuna, I’ll catch you once we finish this.” He waves the joint, smiling. “Give me a proper kiss before you go though.”

Shouto smiles, leaning in to kiss him before he pulls back to follow the girls. Pony grabs his hand, pulling him through the crowd, even though she’s a lot shorter than him, she makes way for them easily.

He doesn’t really think it was who he thought he was, but his curiosity will get the best of him one of these days. He just needs to see for himself, or maybe realize he’s going crazy. It might’ve been the alcohol.

—

Katsuki must’ve lost his mind, he can’t believe Nemuri talked him into this. That’s what he concludes as he finds himself walking into a college party full of kids getting shitfaced so carelessly. Ah, he remembers those times well. It feels like a long time ago…

“The fuck am I doing here.” He grumbles grumpily as the woman squeezes his arm.

“Don’t be such a bummer!” She chides. “Let’s grab a drink. You gotta enjoy yourself.”

Katsuki eyes a table with a vast assortment of cheap booze, and picks out what seems less disgusting, begrudgingly pouring himself a drink in a plastic cup. As he lifts his head, he sees too many things happening at once. Two girls are making out in a corner, they’re not being subtle at all, and not too far from them, there is a little circle of people sharing what he’s pretty sure it’s a joint. Oh, yeah, this does bring back a few more memories.

“Aren’t they so lively?” Nemuri chirps, sipping at her own drink. 

Katsuki just rolls his eyes, and grunts in response, but before Nemuri can say anything else, she’s called over by a group.

“Do you wanna come? They’re probably gonna play some game.” 

“Fuck no.”

“Well, suit yourself.” She smiles wickedly, then winks at him. “What happens in those parties, stay here, you know?”

Katsuki frowns, but doesn’t say anything. He watches as she vanishes in the crowd, leaving him to his own devices. Katsuki huffs, turning around to find a corner where he can linger and just watch, or maybe a corner where he can sit. He eyes a makeshift dance floor that he needs to cross, but as he starts to move, his eyes land on a very familiar figure and he all but stops in his tracks. 

—

The air is knocked out of Shouto’s lungs as their eyes meet, his heart thumping in his chest very fast, and very loudly. He feels like there’s a magnetic pull between them, like they would be able to find each other even in a room full of people. Which is stupid, and probably the alcohol in his system making him romanticize things. Shouto is frozen in place, all the noise surrounding him quiets down in that moment. One of the girls has to shake his arm to pull him back from his stupor.

“Oh my God, have you seen who’s here?” It’s Pony, she says that loudly, pointing to where Bakugou is, and it makes Shouto avert his eyes. “Should we go talk to him?”

“What?” Shouto says quickly, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Pony pouts, but gladly, Momo interjects. “I don’t think he would like that. I’ve seen Mrs. Kayama over there, too. Pretty sure they’re together. We shouldn’t bother them.”

“Damn, we better behave.” Kyoka jokes.

“He doesn’t look like he even wants to be here.” Momo comments.

“It was probably Mrs. Kayama, she always comes to the parties. Haven’t seen her wife yet, though.”

“Yeah…” Shouto says airily, glancing at where Bakugou is. 

The teacher looks good tonight. Not that he doesn’t always look effortlessly good, but there’s something about the casual clothes. He’s just wearing a black button up shirt with the top buttons open, sleeves rolled up, and tucked into black jeans, and yet he stands out even amongst the sea of people overly dressed up to impress. Even Shouto himself is a victim of that, his vanity sometimes getting the best of him, he’s put in the effort to dress up for this party, curled the ends of his hair, put on some light makeup, choose his outfit carefully. He’s glad he did it, though. Secretly, he hopes Bakugou is watching. He can’t help but crave his attention whenever he’s around.

“Anyways!” Pony grabs Shouto’s hand. “Let’s dance then!” 

Shouto barely pays attention to his colleague, just follows her mindlessly. He can feel the weight of Bakugou’s gaze following his every move, it makes him feel hot, as well as a little bit wrong because his boyfriend is right in the next room. Still, Shouto returns his gaze once more, a private thing between just the two of them. He forgets about his surroundings for a moment, and lets the girl pull him right to the middle of the dance floor, where he’s put in the spotlight under colorful lights. 

He usually hangs out with Hanta at those parties, or he talks to some people, sometimes he plays some party games, but dancing isn’t something that Shouto does, unless he’s extremely high or super drunk. He’s feeling a tad awkward right now, because he’s only slightly tipsy, but once again he’s stricken by his desire to stir something within his teacher, so he lets himself relax and allows the music to start flowing into him. He knows what he can do, how to use his body to his favor and how to be at least a little bit alluring. He understands seduction to a degree.

Kyoka and Momo are having a good time, giggling and twirling each other without even caring if their steps fit the beat. Pony’s disbanded from them to dance with some guy. Shouto lets his eyes slip shut, biting his lip tentatively as he starts to move his body, swaying to the beat, slowly but surely. It’s easier if he’s not looking, but he wants to see, he wants to gauge Bakugou’s reaction, if he’s watching, if he’s keeping his eyes on him the way he’s meant to.

So he opens his eyes, locks them with the teacher’s as he moves, like he’s giving him a show from a distance. The song transitions into the next one, it’s some french song with just the right beat for him to swing to. He lets his hands slide up and down, lightly touching his own body, his neck, his face, messing up his hair as he imagines Bakugou’s hands all over him again. He’s doing all of it for him. No guilt, or shame in sight, even if there should be.

—

Katsuki doesn’t dare to move, he couldn’t, and he wouldn’t—not now. He watches as the pretty boy moves, and even the freaking music seems to favor him, as he listens to the slower, sensual tune give him the perfect rhythm to sway along with it.

He knows it’s for him, could read it in his eyes even from a distance. The way he bites his lip makes Katsuki wish he could walk over there and pull him close to stake his claim in front of everyone. What a scandal that would be, but it would be so worth it risking it all for that little piece of heaven. Katsuki doesn’t think has ever been this besotted in his entire life.

His mouth goes dry as Todoroki slips his eyes shut and lets the music encompass him, elegant hands swaying seemingly at random, but even the slightly clumsy movements are charming, enrapturing. He opens his eyes slowly, and Katsuki knows he’s searching for his gaze through unruly strands of dual-colored hair that are now falling into his eyes almost artfully, and the way he doesn’t bother brushing them away gives him this messy look that drives Katsuki crazy. Oh, he has Katsuki’s attention, fully. He wants to be the one to mess him up like that.

Katsuki only came to this lame ass party because he had hoped he would find him here, but now he’s starting to regret it because now he wants to do terrible things. He wonders why the stupid boyfriend isn’t around, and regrets it immediately when his show is cut short once the tall guy approaches Todoroki.

—

“So the fucking teachers ended up crashing our party after all.” Hanta startles Shouto as he joins them on the dancefloor, speaking into his ear as he hugs him from behind. Bakugou doesn’t avert his eyes, in fact, his gaze sharpens, burning into them as he keeps staring until Shouto does avert his own as he feels his cheeks flush hot with a hint of shame.

“It’s kinda weird watching them outside of class.” Kyoka comments absentmindedly. No one is really caring for their presence anymore. No one here knows how affected Shouto is because of him. “Smoke break?” 

“Sure!” Hanta agrees, holding Shouto tighter. Shouto decides to turn in his arms, regrettably facing away from his teacher.

Then Shouto makes a reckless last minute decision. He shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t. But he wants to. Desire has sipped deep in his bones, as it does these days whenever he as much as glances at that man’s direction. He needs a fix and in mind he’s weighing down his options and contemplating all the risks. Consequences could be fatal. That shouldn’t arouse him as much as it does, he can feel his heart racing with anticipation already.

“I’ll catch you guys outside, I really need to use the bathroom first,” he says, as his boyfriend smiles at him, cluelessly kissing him before letting go of him.

“Want me to go with you?” Hanta asks.

Shouto shakes his head, and smiles. “It’s fine, I’ll be with you soon.”

His anxiety spikes up as Hanta takes a second longer to reply and Shouto fears he’s going to insist, and blow all of his plans.

“Okay,” he says, and Shouto deflates with relief. “Don’t be long, babe, I’ll miss you.”

Shouto just smiles, watching carefully as they all leave to make sure they are all completely out of sight when he turns around again to see if Bakugou is still there. He is. He’s not sure what to feel about him watching him with Hanta, but he brushes it off as he gives the man a pointed look, hoping he can read the hidden intentions before he turns away and heads to the bathroom. 

He convinces himself that it wasn’t an invitation per se, but he guiltily catches himself hoping he will follow him nonetheless as he steps inside the bathroom, leaving the door behind him unlocked. If it works, it works.

He looks at himself in the mirror, and finally brushes his hair away from his face. He doesn’t startle when the door opens, slowly turning to look at Bakugou slipping inside, he leans against the sink as the man clicks the door shut behind him. If anyone saw him, they would be cooked. But Shouto’s little degenerate mind feels his cock twitch at the thought, and there should be some shame wrapped around that reaction, but there isn’t. Acts of rebellion always excited him.

His heart skips a beat as the man walks up to him and simply snatches him by the waist, pressing him against the vanity, and simply leaning in and kissing him like Shouto belongs to him. It’s amazing how easily Bakugou can dominate him, he leaves him out of breath, as Shouto circles his arms around his neck and pulls him in, pressing closer, scouring for more. 

“Did you enjoy watching me dance?” Shouto whispers when they part to breathe, both their lips shiny with spit, shifting his gaze to Bakugou’s eyes. 

“Was that all for me?” Bakugou asks, a tinge of lust in his tone as he tightens the grip on his waist. He knows the answer, he just wants to hear Shouto say it.

Shouto smiles, but he doesn’t nod, or tell him whatever he was expecting to hear. He leans in, though, licking Bakugou’s lips, luring him in until the man caves and kisses him again. 

He knows this is risky, especially when someone bangs at the door a few times before giving up. That excites him, and apparently it does the same to Bakugou, as he growls lowly into his mouth, lifting him onto the counter, fingers sneakily slipping under his shirt as they make out sloppily.

“You should leave here with me,” Bakugou says, kissing down his neck, as Shouto tilts his head, giving him more room. He shivers as teeth scrape his sensitive skin.

“I, ah—” he moans as Bakugou bites him lightly, thoughtlessly wrapping his legs around the teacher’s waist. “You know I can’t. People are waiting—”

He cuts himself off as Bakugou slides his hands up, the fingers of one of his hands brushing one of his pebbled nipples. He bites his lip, throwing his head back and grinding against him involuntarily, feeling Bakugou smirk against his skin.

“Mr. Bakugou, please…” He hisses, rolling his hips mindlessly. Bakugou is perfectly slotted between his legs, and his other hand curls around his thigh, pulling Shouto closer.

“Your little boyfriend should be taking better care of you, instead of letting you run off like that.” Bakugou teases, dragging his teeth through his skin, threatening to bite harder. 

“You’re being cruel,” Shouto mutters, but his tone doesn’t match, his voice comes out breathy and it denounces just how much it messes with him. He’s such a bad person.

Bakugou can see right through him, he slides his hand down, cupping the front of Shouto’s pants and making him gasp.

“I’m under the impression that you’re enjoying it.”

Shouto whines when he presses down, making his cock fill up faster. This is no good.

“Fuck…” he whispers, pushing his hips forward, seeking for that touch.

Bakugou has his mouth on his neck again, but doesn’t bite him, instead he presses his lips to his throat, leaving a kiss there, and moving them up until he touches his lips again. He doesn’t kiss him again, though, pulling away as Shouto tries, leaving him confused.

He just stops, lets go of him entirely and steps back. Shouto blinks, disconcerted.

“I’ll let you go before I can’t control myself.” 

Shouto nods, still a little dazed. Yeah, that is the most reasonable thing to do, unfortunately. He jumps off the counter, a little unsteady on his feet as he feels the uncomfortable arousal heavy between his legs. 

“I’ll see you on Monday?” He asks, as he adjusts his clothes. Bakugou smirks, and nods.

“Sure, pretty boy.”

He watches him leave and stays behind a little longer, willing his erection to go down at least a little while he waits until it’s safe for him to get out without causing any suspicion. He can only hope no one has seen them, but he doubts anyone was even paying attention to either of them.

—

Things start to go sideways after that, but maybe Shouto should have expected it. He leaves the bathroom once he’s calmed down enough, and drops by the drinks table, knocking down a shot of the strongest shit he can grab to ease his mind a bit. He’s not sure how much time has passed, but he realizes he stayed there with Bakugou for too long because as he’s about to go looking for his friends, Hanta catches him midway, grabbing his arm not very gently, which startles him. 

“Where were you?” He asks, sounding annoyed.

“I told you, I was in the bathroom.” Shouto frowns, wondering if someone saw anything. If Hanta saw anything. It makes him anxious.

Hanta doesn’t say anything, instead, he switches the hold from his arm to his waist and pulls him closer, it’s sudden and a little rough, but Shouto doesn’t mind it at first. His boyfriend pushes him into the nearest wall from where they’re standing, immediately attaching his lips to Shouto’s neck.

It should be fine, they used to make out at parties when shit started to get boring, when they were already baked or tipsy enough, but Shouto’s not really feeling it. He was just making out with their teacher not even five minutes ago, and everything about this now feels wrong.

So when Hanta reaches up and tries to kiss him, Shouto turns his head, bringing his hands to his shoulders as he tries to put some distance between them. But Hanta doesn’t relent, he holds tighter onto his waist, presses him harder against the wall and forces his lips onto Shouto’s, kissing him roughly. 

He tries once again to stop the kiss, but he feels Hanta’s hand come up and hold him by the neck, with not enough force to choke him, but it’s enough to keep him from pulling away. It’s not that Shouto minds, he does like it when things get rough, he really does. He can even feel the slight tingle of desire spark to life when his boyfriend does this, but again, he’s not in the right mood at the moment. He’s not sure they should even be doing this, or rather, if he should.

“Han, cut that out!” He has to nip his boyfriend’s bottom lip for him to pay attention. “I told you I don’t wanna do this right now.” The bite wasn’t enough to hurt him or anything, just hard enough so he refocuses, dropping the hand that was on his throat.

Hanta doesn’t look happy. And maybe it’s because he’s more fried than usual, and when he mixes it with drinking, sometimes it’s just not good. Shouto is hoping that he doesn’t want to start an argument, but with the way he drops both hands to his sides, and takes a step back, and the look in his eyes, he can’t be too optimistic. This too, are consequences of his own actions, but he can’t help feeling a little annoyed by the outcome.

“You’re acting weird again.” There he goes. 

Shouto has to suppress the urge to sigh, as he looks at him.

“What? Of course not, Hanta.” He feels kind of an asshole because at this point he’s just gaslighting him, but he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do in this situation. Ideally, he would have his way, and everything would work out in his favor, but when does it ever? 

“Oh yeah?” His boyfriend asks, and Shouto doesn’t like the sarcastic, harsh tone he uses, even though deep down he knows it’s justified, he has the right to be upset. “Because it really feels like you’re doing everything to avoid me, Shouto. I told you this before and you keep denying it.”

“Hey, Han, listen to me.” Shouto takes a step closer and brings his hands up, holding his boyfriend’s face. He doesn’t pull away, so Shouto presses their lips together. He feels a little bad for manipulating the situation like that, but the alternative is something he isn’t ready to face just yet. Every time he digs his grave a little deeper, he knows that. It’s gonna reach a point of no return. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired. Let’s go home, okay?”

He brings his lips close to his boyfriend’s ear, and whispers. “I’ll make it up to you then.”

Hanta folds easily, perhaps still because being baked weakens his better judgement and he likes Shouto too much, so he drops the argument, and takes his word for it. He looks genuinely happy at the prospect while Shouto doesn’t know exactly what he’s feeling.

Still, he kisses him again for good measure. He makes it a good one, the way he knows makes Hanta melt. And it’s not that he doesn’t like it, he wouldn’t be dating Hanta if he didn’t. He is as attracted to him as always, but it’s just that now it feels like something is missing. That cockiness, and that self-assuredness that Shouto has come to realize only older men are capable of displaying. 

And perhaps Shout is just depraved, and he can’t blame his boyfriend for not being able to do that. Maybe he will mature with the years. But he wants a man to be able to tame him in the way he craves. Hanta is good, and he used to be enough, but now that Shouto had a taste of something else, he isn’t sure anymore. He isn’t sure about a lot of things lately.

—

Shouto managed to dodge that bullet. He went home with Hanta, and he did everything he promised he would do. 

The night was… weird, for lack of a better word. They ended up fucking, which is no big deal. They haven’t done it in a while, and it’s not that it wasn’t good, but he was just… not entirely there. His mind kept wandering off, he kept getting distracted and having to force himself back into the moment, but still he kept slipping again, thinking about things that he shouldn’t be thinking while his boyfriend was pounding him and trying to get him off. 

He was lucky Hanta was high enough that he didn’t notice anything, but for Shouto, that was the weirdest sex they ever had in their entire relationship. He was still feeling a little guilty, too. Not only for what he did, but for what he wanted to do. He felt guilty for closing his eyes nearing the end and picturing his teacher when he was about to cum, and it made him cum harder only because he kept picturing things that hadn’t even happened yet.

This is all getting so out of hand.

—

It doesn’t really get any better in the next week, and Shouto keeps digging his own grave deeper, and deeper.

On Monday he met Bakugou in the storage room again. They didn’t do anything other than just make out really hard this time, but even that felt so good. Bakugou lay down on the floor with him, pulled Shouto down on top so he could grind on him as they kissed leisurely. His strong hands on his ass, gropping him as he guided his hips so surely felt incredible, he really wanted to stay there with him forever. 

He was just glad Hanta had skipped that day, so he didn’t have to come up with any excuses. He knows what he’s doing is awful, and that he should just break up with him already, but when he thinks about it, he can’t work out the courage to just do it. 

He still has many doubts, it’s true, he can’t really figure out what he wants, and so he keeps dragging out the situation. It becomes clearer everyday that ending things with him would be the noble, right thing to do, but still, he doesn’t know.

He still has that date with Bakugou on the weekend, and they’ve been texting, too. All week, in fact. Shouto sent him more teasing pictures, and sometimes the texts got spicy. He has so many incriminating conversations in his chat log, and he’s just glad Hanta isn’t the type of boyfriend who likes to pry on his things.

It’s by Thursday, however, that things collapse monumentally. He has another disagreement with Hanta, and at first he thinks he’ll be able to counter it the same way he’s managed to in their previous quarrels. It gets worse than the previous ones, though, and Hanta seems really fed up this time. 

“Shouto, seriously, what’s going on? I’m getting so sick of this!” He stops him abruptly after Shouto refuses to hold his hand in the hallway, something he only realized belatedly that he’d done reflexively because Bakugou had just passed by them. 

“What do you mean?” He turns to him, head tilted to the side like he is genuinely confused about what brought this on, even though he knows what’s coming. At this point, he’s just being cynical and just an awful person in general.

“I’ve told you plenty of times now, you’ve been acting weird. You start pulling away out of nowhere. You just refused to hold my freaking hand for crying out loud! And it’s not only that, sometimes you take so long to reply to my messages, you left me on read so many times this week! Like, seriously, what the hell is going on? Have I done something? Are you tired of me?”

There are people passing them, and some even slow down to try to listen to the gossip. Shouto hates that. Also, Hanta’s string of questions overwhelms him. He feels trapped, like he’s getting backed into a corner with nowhere to run. 

“Don’t be silly,” he says, as he resumes walking because he doesn’t want to have this conversation right now. Hanta follows behind him, but as they’re already outside the campus’ gates, he grabs Shouto’s wrist and makes him face him.

“Don’t fucking walk away from me.”

Shouto frowns, pulling his arm back with a hurtful look on his face because his boyfriend never did that before, and he doesn’t appreciate it. Hanta lets go of him right away, but he doesn’t look remorseful for grabbing him like that. 

“What do you want me to say?” Shouto asks, feeling distressed. “I’ve just been trying to focus more on school, the old man won’t get off my back lately. You know how things are at home, you know how unpleasant my father can be. He’s been in a godawful mood lately.

“Of course you’re bringing up your old man.” Hanta sounds cynical, and Shouto doesn’t like it at all, even if he’s technically in the wrong here, it still hurts to be treated that way. Hanta has never done that before either, not even when they fought more seriously.

“What did you say?” Shouto mutters, lowly. 

“What you heard, Shouto.” Hanta crosses his arms, impassively. “You can’t bring your issues into the table whenever we have a disagreement. This is about us.”

“That’s not fair.” He argues, hands balling into fists at his sides. He’s feeling his eyes stinging too, and that just fucking sucks. Again, he knows he doesn’t deserve much clemency right now, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting. “Don’t do this to me right now.”

“What am I doing, Shouto?” Hanta prompts, sounding like he’s running out of patience. Shouto has never seen him like that, not even once. They had arguments before, but his boyfriend never looked at him like that. Like he was… truly disappointed. “I’m telling you that because it’s true. You always pull that card, and it might’ve worked before, but it won’t cut it now. I’m not happy with how things are between us.”

“I’m not doing this right now.” Shouto says through gritted teeth, and he starts to walk away once again. It is fucking childish, he admits that much at least. But he’s feeling hurt, and confused, and another million different feelings are bubbling up, and he doesn’t know how to deal with anything right now, so he just wants to run away.

Hanta goes after him, and he grabs him once again, harsher this time, to the point he does wince because it hurts a little. 

They were having this argument in public, and even though there weren’t many people around, those who were passing by were stopping to see what’s going on. They were causing a scene. Hanta doesn’t let go of him, he drags him to a more private corner instead, and only then does Shouto angrily snatch his arm back, glaring daggers at his boyfriend. This is all wrong. 

Shouto hates letting things slip out of his control. Everything was fine. He already had a plan, he knew what he was going to do. This wasn’t part of his plan. He was going to talk to Hanta, he was going to fix their issues. And now it all looks like it’s snowballing into a big pile of crap. He doesn’t like it. He really, really doesn’t.

But maybe he was just being naive, and too optimistic in a situation where he’s in the wrong. He knows he’s not doing the right thing, he knows he’s not the one who should be acting hurt. But he ends up letting his spoiled brat self take over, letting his petty side rear its ugly head.

“Let me fucking go!” He shouts.

“If you care so much about your privacy, you might wanna stop yelling, you’re going to cause a scene.” Hanta says coldly. “People were staring, in case you didn’t notice, that’s why I dragged you away.”

Shouto crosses his arms, pouts. He looks like a petulant child throwing a tantrum, but at this point he can’t help it anymore. He’s doing his best not to start crying in front of him, even though his eyes are stinging. He hates this. All of it.

Hanta seems to notice, because despite his closed off stance, he approaches him like he’s trying to approach a wild animal. Shouto drops his arms to his sides because even though he’s feeling petty as fuck right now, he does want the comfort when Hanta puts his hand on his face. He thinks he can still fix this. 

“Listen, Shouto, I didn’t wanna fight in the first place, I’m sorry about what I said about your family.” Shouto sniffles, even though he’s not crying yet. He nods, almost relieved, but then Hanta continues. “But I think you need some time to think… and I, uh, I think I do too. Yeah. We both need some time.”

Shouto takes a step back, once again on the defensive. “You’re— you’re breaking up with me?!”

It may be selfish and cheap of him, but he really wanted to deal with this on his own terms, not so suddenly. He wasn’t prepared for this to happen yet, not like that. 

A part of him tells him that he should be glad, because now there’s nothing to hold him back to do whatever he wants with the teacher. But another part of him was still clinging to the idea that Bakugou would be just a fun little chapter of his life, and that he didn’t exactly want to end things with Hanta because that’s his safe bet.

“I’m giving you some time to think, is all.” Hanta explains, once again approaching him carefully to leave a kiss on his temple. It’s chaste and painful, it feels too much like a break up. “Right now I think you’re confused and unsure, and I don’t want to pressure you. So come talk to me once you sort your shit out, alright? I’ll be here. I love you, but I can’t keep going like this. We both need some space.”

Shouto is too stunned to speak, so Hanta leaves him before he can even say anything else. Shouto’s mind is racing, his head is starting to pound with an incoming headache. Still somewhat disconcerted, he fumbles for his phone with shaky hands and scrolls through his contacts until he finds a specific one.

“Hello, Keigo? Can you come pick me up? I’m not feeling too well.” His voice sounds strained, and his misty eyes tell him that he’s on the verge of tears. He sniffles, rubbing at his eyes angrily because he doesn’t want to cry right now.

Shouto doesn’t even understand why exactly he feels that way. He’s not sure if it’s because he fucked things up with Hanta, or if it’s because of the things he said, or simply because of the rejection, or even if it’s because he can’t get the teacher out of his head and it’s pretty much ruining his life. Everything seems to be falling apart at once, and Shouto feels overwhelmed with all these conflicting feelings. He’s never had to deal with anything like this before; it’s all so intense.

Keigo doesn’t question his tone or the sudden request, he just lets him know that he’ll tell his father he has to leave briefly to run an errand, and that he’ll be there for him in about fifteen minutes. 

Shouto feels relieved. Keigo has always been there to help him out when he needed it, without asking unnecessary questions, something he appreciated. In the absence of his mother, who was always away, traveling to different places, his father’s assistant was a decent substitute to comfort him in times of need. Keigo had been present in his life for so long that Shouto had gotten used to running to him after his older brother moved out.