The pre-dawn air in U.A. High's Class 1-A was still, heavy with the scent of polished wood and lingering traces of chalk dust. The classroom, bathed in the soft gray of early morning, felt like a sanctuary carved out of time—a fleeting pocket of solitude before the chaos of hero training consumed the day. Izuku Midoriya stood by the window, his breath fogging the glass as he traced the faint outline of the campus below. His green eyes, usually alight with determination, were clouded with something softer, more vulnerable. His notebook lay open on the teacher's desk, pages filled with meticulous notes on quirks and strategies, but his mind was elsewhere.
Momo Yaoyorozu slipped through the door, her movements graceful yet deliberate, like a dancer stepping onto a stage. Her hero costume clung to her curves, the sleek red fabric accentuating the elegance of her form—a design she'd refined to balance utility and confidence. Her dark hair, usually tied in a high ponytail, hung loose today, cascading over her shoulders in waves that caught the dim light. She closed the door behind her with a soft click, the sound reverberating in the quiet room like a promise.
"Izuku," she said, her voice low, rich with a warmth that made his heart stutter. "You're here early again."
He turned, his freckled cheeks flushing as he met her gaze. "Y-yeah, I… I wanted to review some notes before Aizawa-sensei's lecture. Couldn't sleep much last night." His words were halting, but his eyes betrayed him, lingering on the way her costume hugged her hips, the subtle curve of her collarbone exposed by the low neckline.
Momo's lips curved into a knowing smile, her dark eyes glinting with something playful yet predatory. She stepped closer, her heels clicking softly against the floor. "You're always so diligent," she murmured, stopping just inches from him. The air between them crackled, charged with an unspoken tension that had been building for weeks—stolen glances during training, brushes of hands in the dorms, moments where their words carried more weight than they should.
"And you're always so… prepared," Izuku replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he fought to keep his composure. Momo's presence was overwhelming, a blend of intellect and allure that left him dizzy. She was the vice president of Class 1-A, the heiress of the Yaoyorozu fortune, a prodigy whose quirk could create anything from nothing. Yet here, in this quiet classroom, she was simply Momo—his friend, his confidante, and now, something more.
She reached out, her fingers brushing against his scarred hand, the calluses of his training a stark contrast to her smooth skin. "Izuku," she said, her voice dropping to a husky murmur, "we have time before the others arrive. No one will be here for at least an hour."
His breath hitched, his mind racing to catch up with the implications of her words. "Momo, what are you—"
She silenced him with a finger to his lips, her touch soft but commanding. "Don't think," she whispered, stepping closer until their bodies were nearly pressed together. "Just feel."
The classroom seemed to shrink, the world narrowing to the space between them. Izuku's heart pounded, a drumbeat echoing in his ears as Momo's hand slid up his arm, tracing the muscles honed by months of grueling hero work. His hero costume, green and rugged, felt suddenly constricting, the fabric too tight against his skin. Her eyes locked onto his, a silent question hanging in the air, and when he didn't pull away, she took it as permission.
Momo leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a tentative kiss that quickly deepened. Izuku gasped against her mouth, the taste of her—sweet, like honeyed tea—igniting something primal within him. His hands found her waist, hesitant at first, then gripping with a hunger he hadn't known he possessed. She moaned softly, the sound vibrating through him, and pressed herself closer, her curves molding against his lean frame.
The kiss broke, leaving them both breathless. Momo's cheeks were flushed, her eyes dark with desire. "Izuku," she murmured, her hands sliding under his costume's jacket, tugging at the zipper. "I've wanted this for so long."
He stared at her, his mind a whirlwind of disbelief and need. "Momo, I… me too. But here? In the classroom?" His voice was strained, torn between caution and the fire burning in his veins.
She smiled, a wicked edge to it. "Why not? This is our space, our moment. No one will know." Her fingers deftly unzipped his jacket, revealing the tight undershirt that clung to his sculpted torso. She traced the lines of his muscles, her touch reverent yet teasing. "Unless you're afraid, Deku."
The use of his hero name, laced with challenge, snapped something in him. Izuku's eyes darkened, a spark of One For All's power flickering in his irises. "I'm not afraid," he said, his voice steadier now, laced with a confidence that made Momo's breath catch. He pulled her closer, his hands roaming her back, fingers digging into the soft fabric of her costume. "I want you, Momo. Right here. Right now."
Her laughter was soft, sultry, as she guided him toward the teacher's desk. "Then take me," she whispered, hopping onto the desk with a grace that belied the urgency in her movements. She spread her thighs slightly, the invitation clear, and Izuku's resolve crumbled.
He stepped between her legs, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her again, harder this time, all hesitation gone. Their tongues danced, a rhythm of need and surrender, as Momo's hands worked to peel off his undershirt. The fabric caught on his scars, a reminder of his battles, but she didn't flinch. Instead, she traced each mark with her fingertips, her touch a silent worship of his strength.
Izuku's hands weren't idle. He tugged at the zipper of her costume, the sound loud in the quiet room as it slid down, revealing the creamy expanse of her skin. Her breasts, full and perfect, were barely contained by a black lace bra, and he groaned at the sight, his arousal evident in the tightening of his pants. Momo smirked, reaching behind to unclasp the bra, letting it fall to the floor. "Like what you see?" she teased, her voice a siren's call.
"God, Momo," he breathed, his hands cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples. She arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips, and the sound drove him wild. He lowered his mouth, kissing a trail down her neck, her collarbone, until he reached one pert nipple, taking it into his mouth with a reverence that bordered on desperation.
Momo's hands tangled in his green curls, her head tipping back as pleasure coursed through her. "Izuku," she gasped, her voice trembling with need. "More."
He obliged, his tongue swirling, teeth grazing lightly as his other hand kneaded her breast. The desk creaked beneath her, a testament to their growing intensity, but neither cared. The world outside—the hero training, the expectations, the looming threats—faded into nothingness. There was only this moment, this heat, this connection.
Momo's hands moved lower, deft fingers undoing his belt, then his pants, freeing his erection. She wrapped her hand around him, stroking with a confidence that made his knees buckle. "You're so hard," she murmured, her voice thick with approval. "All for me."
Izuku groaned, his hips bucking into her hand. "Momo, please," he begged, his voice raw. "I need you."
She didn't make him wait. With a flick of her wrist, she used her quirk, a soft glow emanating from her skin as a condom materialized in her hand. She tore it open with her teeth, the sight alone nearly undoing him, and rolled it onto him with practiced ease. "Prepared, remember?" she said with a wink, pulling him closer.
He positioned himself between her thighs, the tip of his cock brushing against her entrance. She was wet, ready, her arousal evident in the way her hips shifted, seeking him. "Izuku," she whispered, her hands gripping his shoulders. "Now."
He thrust into her, slow at first, savoring the way she enveloped him, tight and warm. Momo's moan was loud, unrestrained, and he froze, glancing at the door. "Shh," he murmured, a grin tugging at his lips. "We don't want Aizawa-sensei walking in."
She laughed, the sound muffled as she bit her lip. "Then make it quick," she challenged, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper.
Izuku didn't need to be told twice. He set a rhythm, steady but intense, each thrust driving them both closer to the edge. The desk rocked beneath them, papers scattering to the floor, but they were too lost to care. Momo's nails dug into his back, her moans growing louder, more desperate, as she matched his pace, her hips rising to meet him.
The classroom, once a place of learning, became their battlefield, their sanctuary. The chalkboard loomed behind them, equations and hero tactics forgotten. The windows, still fogged from Izuku's earlier breaths, shielded them from the waking world. It was just them—two heroes, two hearts, colliding in a frenzy of need.
"Izuku," Momo gasped, her voice breaking as she neared her peak. "I'm close."
"Me too," he grunted, his thrusts growing erratic, driven by instinct. He reached between them, his thumb finding her clit, rubbing in tight circles that made her cry out. Her walls clenched around him, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave, and the sight of her—head thrown back, lips parted, eyes glazed with pleasure—pushed him over the edge.
He came with a shudder, burying his face in her neck as waves of ecstasy rolled through him. They clung to each other, breathless, their bodies slick with sweat, the air thick with the scent of sex and satisfaction. For a moment, they were still, the only sound their ragged breathing and the faint tick of the classroom clock.
Momo was the first to move, brushing a kiss against his temple. "That was…" She trailed off, a lazy smile spreading across her face. "Unexpectedly perfect."
Izuku chuckled, pulling back to meet her gaze. "Yeah. I… wow." He glanced around, suddenly aware of the mess they'd made—papers strewn across the floor, his notebook teetering on the edge of the desk. "We should probably clean up before the others get here."
She nodded, sliding off the desk with a grace that belied the intensity of what they'd just done. They dressed quickly, helping each other adjust their costumes, stealing kisses between laughs. Momo used her quirk again, creating a small broom to sweep the papers into a neat pile, while Izuku straightened the desk, his cheeks still flushed with a mix of embarrassment and pride.
As the first rays of sunlight filtered through the windows, the classroom returned to its usual state, no trace of their indiscretion remaining. Momo turned to Izuku, her expression softening. "This… it doesn't change anything, does it?" she asked, a rare vulnerability in her voice.
He took her hand, squeezing gently. "It changes everything," he said, his voice firm. "But only for the better."
She smiled, a warmth in her eyes that made his heart swell. "Good. Because I'd hate to think this was a one-time thing."
Before he could respond, the door swung open, and Ochaco Uraraka's cheerful voice filled the room. "Morning, guys! Wow, you're here early!" She paused, tilting her head. "Everything okay? You both look… flushed."
Izuku stammered, his face turning beet red, but Momo was unfazed, her composure impeccable. "Just an intense study session," she said smoothly, her hand brushing against Izuku's under the desk. "Right, Izuku?"
"Y-yeah!" he managed, his voice a pitch too high. "Just… studying."
Ochaco shrugged, oblivious, and began setting up her desk. As the rest of Class 1-A trickled in, Izuku and Momo shared a secret smile, the memory of their morning etched into their skin, their hearts, their very beings. The classroom, now bustling with life, held their secret, a silent witness to the dawn they'd claimed as their own.
And as Aizawa-sensei entered, his tired eyes scanning the room, Izuku couldn't help but think that some lessons were worth learning before the bell rang.
^ patreon will be up soon for early access ^