Wow I actually updated for fucking once-

———

"The Press Conference will be at eight pm, and that means we'll have to arrive three hours before." Izuku muttered, eyebrows furrowed as he carded through the expensive suits he had that were idly hanging on the rack.

"You already texted your mom, right?"
Katsuki nodded, sitting on a round stool next to the messy, green haired man who was sorting through the racks of suits and other clothes.

They both sat in Izuku's big-ass and (surprisingly) uncluttered walk in closet, which was unnecessarily filled to the brim with designer clothes. Katsuki seriously fucking doubts this guy has worn every single one of them, considering the fact he saw pictures from different occasions on where Izuku would literally wear the same black suit again and again.

There were shelves where neatly tucked shoes (varying from loafers to tacky and colorful sneakers) along with three different pairs of the same red shoes.
A twin-mirror (that was edged with silver, mind you) was drilled into the wall next to the clothes, pink sticky notes with various reminders of grabbing groceries were crudely jotted down in blue ink.

There was also a ridiculous amount of masks, ('one had the color black and a white cat mouth printed on it. I mean, it's so fucking silly.' Katsuki huffed an amused breath) probably used to cover him during times he went out in public.

Katsuki's eyes returned to the green mop of hair standing beside him, who was muttering up a storm, debating whether or not to go casual or not. A bit of annoyance flickered in Katsuki's But was quickly dampened when those forest green eyes landed in his fiery crimson ones.

They were full of thought and concentration.

"Do you think we'll have to wear some fancy suits?-"

Bakugou rolled his eyes at the thought. Midoriya was such a damn worry-wart sometimes. "Fuck no," he interjected. "Screw the goddamn press. If I could, I'll just go there while fucking shirtless." And he was genuine about that, too. Gets the press fuming when they don't wear fancy clothes for their pictures.

"But Kacchan," Izuku softly but his lip, cheeks flushing cutely. "You have hickeys and bites everywhere."

Katsuki snorted, rolling his eyes. He gets it now. This guy was concerned that he'll be responsible for ruining the Bakugou's reputation, and was (by a high chance) going to be blaming himself for it. "So? I fucked you. You know. In the ass. No big deal. Plus you blew me."

Izuku choked on air, whispering, "How vulgar, Kacchan," before his face reddened even more. Katsuki smirked in amusement, liking how the blush dusted his freckled cheeks. "That's rich, coming from a guy that sucked my dick with no shame."

A bright yellow sweatshirt blocked his vision, landing on his face when Izuku threw the material as he felt all embarrassed. Was Katsuki always like this?

Bakugou just shrugged the clothing off his face, a devious smirk tugging the corner of his lips like some madman hatching a plan to take over the world. He fucking loves messing with Izuku sometimes.

"What's the matter Deku? Don't tell me you're getting all shy now." Katsuki taunted, hands clasping together in mock sorrow. "You deep throated my cock. And you were all hot and shit. You should be honored you got to suck MY dick-"

"K-Kacchan!" Izuku weakly protested, vivid memories from THAT time flashed in his mind, the familiar fuzzy feeling returning to his gut.

Katsuki let out a whole-hearted laugh, tears pricking at his sides as he clutched his stomach. God, holy fuck, this was fun.

(But as he taunted Izuku, the though of him sucking him off from last time made the familiar, fluttery churn.)

———

"So."

"Um.."

Aizawa stared the two young adults down with his signature, cold glare that made even Katsuki gulp.

The trio were standing in Izuku's personal room, with Shouta standing in front of them like some angry parent.

Izuku shuffled his feet awkwardly at the sharp gaze they received, sneaking a glance at Bakugou who was staring at his shoes. "Both of you," Aizawa stated as he crossed his arms. "I expected you to be better. To be more responsible because you're both adults."

"Turns our you both have the opposite of the traits that I mentioned."

The words were light, but Izuku's heart gave a painful thump at the sound of disappointment in the man's voice.

Aizawa Shouta was part of this big-shot modeling agency that houses new recruits with potential, something both Katsuki Bakugou and Izuku Midoriya  were part of. He was a very (that being an understatement) successful photographer, being part of the agency called "Yuuei".

There, Pro Models like Midnight and Present Mic (fucking stupid stage names, if you ask Katsuki) were born. Even Aizawa was a model in his teens, resigning five years after to he could pursue photography instead. Even though he was scruffy and rough around the edges, Izuku could certainly see why he was a model from before.

And then there was Toshinori Yagi, a man to absolutely swept the floor with his looks.

He quickly climbed the rankings, obliterating (not literally) any competition in his way with his bright smile and determined ocean eyes. Izuku had personally met him six times, the last two was over coffee as he gave advice to Midoriya about his career. Izuku quickly concluded he was a nice man.

But, he career ended with him resigning, an injury from a suspected car crash "dented" his figure with a scar that looked like some Great White shark took a bite from his side.

Izuku felt sorry for him, but when they met up for the last time, the older man just gave a hearty chuckle as he patted Midoriya's shoulder, assuring him that he was fine with quitting his career. ('After all', Toshinori said. 'I am growing old. Might as well make my days worth it and put the modeling money to good use.')

"Chin up, both of you." Aizawa huffed, his glare softening. "I guess I couldn't really blame you for this. You're both still growing after all," Katsuki and Izuku perked up But flinched when Aizawa glared at them again. "But I expect you to not act on your.. Still very much present teenager hormones."

Katsuki was about to bark out a rude response, but from all the experience of working with Aizawa Shouta, he just clamped his mouth shut, trying to ease his blown fuse as he tried to not rile himself up further.

Izuku nodded before bowing, Katsuki following to give courtesy to the man. Aizawa seemed satisfied with the response, frown lightening to a neutral scowl as he passed both of them- well, after he whacked them over their heads with a roll of paper that were probably his projects.

Izuku and Katsuki didn't move until the man smoothly exited the room, tense atmosphere immediately dropping as they both let out a relieved sigh.

They were slightly rejoicing at the fact that all they received was just tongue-lashing, nothing else.

"God," Izuku combed his hair back out of a nervous habit. "I thought we were going to die there."

Katsuki nodded in agreement, lips pursed into a thin line. "No one's hear to assist us. Shit." Izuku looked at him, eyebrow quirking up in wonder at the sudden worried tone. "Huh?"

"No one's here to cover our stupid fucking hickeys and bite marks, you idiot."

"So..?"

Katsuki stares at him in disbelief. "Fuck you mean, 'So'?" Izuku shrugged, green eyes looking at the makeup resting on the vanity. "Chiyo- my stylist.. She uh.. Taught me how to apply that stuff."

Izuku hesitantly explained, before pressing his lips together as Katsuki gasped at him as if he just grew two heads. He felt the insecurity crawl up his face in a form of a blush, before looking away, finding the floor more interesting than what Bakugou would comment.

"I.. Is that weird-?"

"FUCK YOU MEAN, 'IS THAT WEIRD?' YOU JUST SAVED OUR LIVES, ASSHOLE. IT'S JUST MAKEUP. GODDAMN."

Katsuki said in his own form of encouragement, shouldering Izuku as he sharply grinned. Izuku's blush increased at the flattery, as Katsuki added "Just do your shit and don't make me look like a clown. We have two and a half more hours."