"Izuku!" {Izuku/male!classmate one-shots}

Katsuki/Izuku

[Iida/Izuku will be next.]

"Are you.. Izuku's fuck buddy?"

Or:

Katsuki's forced to get a roommate to afford rent- and he fervently denies that the dude makes butterflies flutter in his stomach.
_______

"Are you a hooker or somethin'?"

Izuku blinks, eyes widen in a fraction to see Katsuki bundled up on the sofa. It was appropriate, considering it was, what, fifteen fucking degrees outside?

Hell, he was shaking even with the steaming hot cocoa in his hands, refusing to get up and grab the remote controller when his show ended and started playing some corny-was romantic comedy. It was literally that fucking cold.

Even if Izuku didn't seem to agree.

"What makes you say that?" He didn't sound as appalled as Katsuki would've thought, nor offended- just genuinely curious as he tilts his head while he fixes his sharp eyeliner on the mirror drilled to the wall by the tall ass vase. The blond raises a brow, and gestures to what Izuku was fucking wearing as if that wasn't obvious.

A few seconds, and then-

".. Oh."

Izuku looks down at the tight, almost see-through white crop top he was wearing, his jeans black and tight to accentuate the curve of his ass and the slim of his waist. He wasn't muscular, but had a firm flat stomach and strong thighs that were obviously from rigorous body maintenance and training. His shoes were white and high-cut, heel counter high and almost looking like, well.. heels, if not because of the green and pink laces that were found on sneakers.

Izuku pouts, cherry-chapstick making his already pink lips pop. "I'm going clubbing! You should come, Kacchan! Maybe you can get out of your hermit-shell more!"

"I'm not a fuckin' hermit, shithead."

Okay. Maybe he was. Stayed at the dorms 24/7 to complete projects, went home after classes immediately to study his ass off, barely squeezing in time for a proper shower and dinner consisting of cold leftovers- at least, before he got Izuku as a roommate.

The nerd was fucking bothersome. The moment Izuku would catch a whiff of him when he cracks open his bedroom door (it's only light source the computer screen filled with half-baked projects), he drags Katsuki by the collar and forces him to eat his own home cooked meals.

It was warm, steamed, and Katsuki refuses to say that it was delicious even if he shovels more rice into his mouth and begrudgingly gets up to fill his plate with another serving. Especially the nerd's fried pork chops. Though, even if Katsuki doesn't show it, the way Izuku glows when he wolfs through another bowl of rice was telling that he knew that the blond appreciates his.. care.

Izuku cleaned up after himself, minded his own business (only if Katsuki was taking care of himself, that is), and kept his side spotless- mostly because of the fact that he was always out and partying.

The 'nerd', despite having shelves over shelves of notebooks filled with whatever, and hardcover books that were hard bound, title-less, and sometimes even your stereotypical 'ancient cursed book' full of knowledge, was never seen particularly studious by Katsuki.

The blond had seen glimpses of his room- only in passing moments of course, when he'd had to walk by the nerd's door to get to the bathroom- and it was the shelves he'd mentioned, a decent bed squishing-ly full of plush stuffed toys, a desk with ever sharpened pencils and, well.. nothing more.

Deku had claimed to be majoring in psychology, working hard for that sweet PhD by graduation, and yet every time Katsuki's eyes curiously drifted to him whenever he was curious how he was doing, it was either Izuku was dolled up to go clubbing or him already gone. Always with a text the next day saying that he was going to stay over some friend's house, telling the blond not to wait up.