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"Get that shit out of my face," Bakugou spits, shoving Kaminari lightly on the chest when he tries to hand Bakugou a bong that Izuku thinks might be impressive if he had any real metric to gauge bong size against.
"Come on, B!" Kaminari whines. "You gotta try it sometime."
"I don't want your shitty weed, Pikachu," Bakugou proclaims.
"It's 'Toshi's, actually, and it's really good—" Kaminari starts, but Shinsou cuts him off.
"He doesn't want it," he says with a slow, easy shrug that instantly puts everyone at ease. Then he turns to Izuku. "Midoriya?"
All attention swings to Izuku, and he puts his hands up right away to wave them off, to tell them he's fine, except for some reason tonight feels different.
They've offered him pot before. Half the class likes to smoke, and since all of them except Bakugou like Izuku just fine, he's been around it plenty. He always declines though, just like Bakugou.
The main difference is, Kaminari and Co actually want to get Bakugou to smoke, are convinced it'll help him chill, man, but no one ever really pushes Izuku. He's pretty sure Shinsou only asked him to be polite.
Izuku shrugs and says, "Sure! How do I do it?"
There is a sudden and violent uproar, everyone talking at once, and a few people reaching for Kaminari's bong like they want to show Izuku how to use it. Bakugou looks like he wants to hit Izuku on the mouth and Izuku can't help but offer him his best sheepish smile.
Todoroki ends up with Kaminari's bong, and Izuku misses how it actually happens, although he can guess. Todoroki always gets what he wants because he so rarely appears to want much of anything. He's the kind of person who speaks so infrequently, people listen when he does. He probably just appeared at Kaminari's side and everyone else fell quiet one by one until the whole room is watching him with bated breath.
He gives Izuku a small, heart-stuttering smile, and proceeds to take what Izuku knows is in fact an utterly massive bong rip (and he lights the bowl with his fingertip, the bastard). But he doesn't exhale.
He shoves the bong back at Kaminari, swoops forward, and breathes it all into Izuku's mouth while the whole class cheers, one hand slotted delicately under Izuku's chin.
Izuku blushes fiercely because he and Todoroki have a thing and it's not really a secret, or exclusive, but it's not like they walk around kissing in public, damn it.
The blush soon changes to a full-on flush however, when Izuku's lungs start to burn and he coughs all the smoke up in a thick cloud. Someone whistles. Shinsou pats him on the back and hands him a cup of water. Todoroki smiles at him which is exceedingly nice.
"See, Bakubro!" Kaminari says suddenly, swinging around. "Even Midoriya is doing it."
Izuku should be surprised when Bakugou snaps, “Give me that,” and snatches the bong from Kaminari’s hands. He should be surprised but he absolutely is not.
Bakugou is the most competitive person Izuku knows, and even now, he still can't help but try to prove that anything Izuku can do, Bakugou can do better.
He fits his lips to the mouth of the bong, lights it, and proceeds to pull on it until Shinsou finally speaks up.
"You're gonna hurt yourself—"
A split second later, Bakugou yanks the bowl from the slide and instantly turns bright red when the ridiculous white cloud of smoke he'd created rushes into his mouth.
He manages to hold his breath for a few beats, cheeks puffed out, eyes already streaming, before he starts coughing so hard Izuku is briefly afraid they might need to take him to a hospital.
A few people pound him on the back while he grumbles at them around his violent hacking, Izuku tries to give him water, which he won't accept until Uraraka gives it to him instead, and Shinsou very quietly packs the bong again and starts handing it around behind Bakugou's back.
When it comes to Izuku again, he hits it, even though the puff he took from Shouto made him light-headed and sort of slow in a way he isn't used to.
He tells himself he has no idea why he hits the bong again, except by this point Bakugou has finally caught his breath and he's crowing about smoking more than Izuku could ever handle.
And. Well.
Izuku is competitive too.
He hides it well. He's always so friendly and supportive, most people don't realize how badly he wants to win just for the sake of winning.
And if Bakugou wants to turn this into something, Izuku has no problem showing Bakugou he's not that quirkless little kid anymore. Generally, Bakugou knows that, but occasionally he needs Izuku to remind him.
This time, it's Izuku’s turn to cough so terribly he thinks his throat might be on fire. He blows a thick cloud out into the air around him and tries to hide the way his lungs are spasming around the remnants of the sweet smoke, but he can't fight for long. It makes him a little nauseated, makes his throat throb, but there's a pleasant, fuzzy buzz in his head now that makes the passage of time feel strange.
Izuku loses track of how many times, over the course of the next four hours, that the bong is put in his hands.
But he does notice that every time he smokes it, Bakugou insists on trying to smoke more. Bakugou is quieter than usual, aside from that, sitting alone on the couch, hands in fists on thighs, staring into space, or else at Izuku.
Every time Izuku smokes, he looks up and finds Bakugou watching him.
He tests it a few times and realizes that if he turns the pot down, Bakugou will too.
So he stops turning it down.
He's pretty sure if he keeps this up, he can watch Bakugou melt into the sofa and then blush about it in the morning. Izuku has always liked making Bakugou blush, even if he is secretly just a little vindictive about it.
It's just nice knowing Bakugou isn't as indestructible as he wishes.
There is also the tiny issue of Izuku's quirk. He'd discovered about a year ago that no matter how much he drank he never seemed to get as drunk as his friends, and also that he never got hungover.
It had taken some research, and some mental gymnastics but eventually Izuku figured out that One for All just made him metabolize everything more quickly. It’s why he eats enough for three men and is still never quite full.
If the look on Bakugou's face, as compared to how Izuku feels, is any indication, it works for pot too. Izuku is far from sober, but he can probably at least stand up straight. He isn't sure Bakugou can.
It takes a while, and Izuku doesn’t really remember much of anything that happens over the next few hours, but eventually, he winds up alone next to Bakugou on the couch while Kaminari and Shinsou give them both slightly concerned looks. Everyone else has cleared out, and Izuku would have left by now too if Bakugou hadn’t adamantly refused to move.
“Fuck you, I’m sleeping,” he shouts, not sounding the slightest bit tired.
Shinsou and Kaminari look at each other and then back at Izuku, and Shinsou says, “He can stay there, I guess?”
He sounds shocked and Izuku is sure it's not because Shinsou and Kaminari actually have a problem with Bakugou crashing on their couch, but rather because for as long as they’ve known each other, Bakugou has never gotten so shitfaced he didn’t eventually stomp off to his own bed.
“I’ll get him home,” Izuku says, fighting with equal parts resignation, guilt, and amusement. Bakugou keeps staring at Izuku like he wants to pick a fight but can’t muster the energy. His eyes are red, pupils blown fat in the dim light. Izuku has to fight not to stare back.
Bakugou is surprisingly quiet when they get out on the street. He walks slowly, shoulders slouching for once, hands in his pockets. Izuku hasn’t really spoken to him all night; he’s just sort of poked and prodded from a distance because he knew Bakugou was watching.
Bakugou is always watching and Izuku is used to having entire conversations, or competitions, without either of them ever directly acknowledging the other is in the room. It’s a strange arrangement, but it works, mostly. It makes their friends less anxious, less concerned that they’re constantly half a beat away from coming to blows. They’re not really like that anymore, but. Ghosts in the shadows and all that.
“I thought you didn’t smoke, Kacchan,” Izuku says when they are about halfway to Bakugou’s apartment.
Bakugou shrugs one shoulder sulkily instead of telling Izuku to fuck off. That’s actually a pretty good sign. A sign of what, he isn’t so sure, but whatever it is, it’s good.
“Thought you didn’t,” Bakugou says after a silent beat has passed.
“It seemed like fun to try!”
“Was it?”
“Sure. Are you okay?”
“Fuck you, I’m fine, nerd.” His words lack venom.
“It’s okay if you don’t like it,” Izuku says, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
Bakugou looks like he might argue, but then he takes a long, slow breath, shrugs his shoulders, and says, “Nah, it’s cool.”
Izuku has to fight not to turn to look at him. He’d just watched Bakugou start to fight and then just… give up. Just like that.
“Cool.”
“Yeah,” Bakugou says. He squints his eyes a little, and tilts his head back to look at the sky. All his joints seem looser than normal, his usually confident gait taking on a swaying sort of swagger that has Izuku… paying attention. Even more than he normally does.
“You didn’t have to walk me home,” he adds, a hint of annoyance coming into his voice. “I’m a goddamn pro hero, nerd.”
Izuku hides a smile. “Not quite yet, we aren’t,” he teases.
Bakugou shrugs and grunts and waves Izuku off. “‘M fucking hungry.”
Izuku turns and looks at him, hiding a smile. He’s hungry too, but he’s always hungry.
“It’s pretty late. What’s open around here?”
They pause in front of Bakugou’s apartment building and Bakugou takes a moment to fumble his keys out of his pockets.
“Fuck that, I got food,” he says, and then swings open the door. Izuku pauses in shock because it sounds a lot like Bakugou has just invited him in.
He grabs the door before it swings shut and looks after Bakugou as he stomps down the hall, hands in his pockets again. He pauses before he rounds the corner and his eyes flick back to Izuku before he disappears.
So Izuku follows him, feeling a bit fuzzier than he had a few seconds earlier, a bit floatier. It sort of feels like he’s walking through a dream and he realizes as he crosses the threshold into Bakugou’s apartment that he’s never actually been inside before. He’s only ever been here with friends, and he’d stood in the hall or out on the sidewalk while Bakugou grabbed his coat and locked his door and they all went off to Kaminari and Shinsou’s, or Kirishima’s, or Todoroki’s place.
Bakugou lives in a studio apartment. It’s big for what it is, meticulously neat and tidy, with exposed brick along one wall and two tall windows facing the street. There’s a loft, enclosed by a black metal railing and accessed with a bare flight of metal stairs. Izuku assumes Bakugou sleeps up there because he doesn’t see a bed from where he’s standing.
Bakugou toes his boots off by the door, motions jerky and violent like they always are. He doesn’t take his hands out of his pockets and Izuku is struck by how impressive that is, that Bakugou can kick those heavy combat boots off his feet without losing his balance or bending over. He shrugs out of his jacket next and moves into the kitchen.
Izuku takes his shoes off and watches Bakugou’s back.
For a long moment, everything is quiet but for Bakugou starting to cook, and Izuku pulling out one of the cheap stools Bakugou has set up at his kitchen island and sitting down. Bakugou puts a pan on the stove, starts taking things out of his refrigerator. Izuku doesn’t know what.
“You and Todoroki.”
Izuku almost jumps in his seat. “Uh. Yeah?”
“Fuck’s that.”
Izuku stares at Bakugou’s straight shoulders. He’s weaving slightly in front of the stove, standing very still aside from the sway.
“What is it?” Izuku says around a laugh. “What do you mean? What’s it look like.”
Bakugou picks up a bottle of oil and drizzles some in the pan. “You’re…”
“Fucking?” Izuku supplies when Bakugou doesn’t go on.
Bakugou’s shoulders get very tense, like he caught a chill. “Don’t you mean dating,” he says around a scoff, and then adds in a mumble, “Like you’re not into that sappy bullshit.”
“No,” Izuku says, voice falling into that goading tone he uses sometimes with Bakugou without meaning to. “We’re not dating. We’re just fucking.”
Bakugou’s shoulders get tight again and Izuku hears him breathe a puff of air. He’s staring into his pan, holding a wooden spoon in one hand and just. Standing there. “Bullshit.”
“What?” Izuku says around a laugh. “I’m not allowed to fuck?”
Bakugou huffs again, “Bullshit you think you’re just fucking. We all know how you are with Todoroki, alright, you’re all up in that sappy, emotional relationship bullshit.”
“How I am with Todoroki.”
“Yeah.”
“Like how you are with Kirishima?”
Bakugou turns around and grunts, “How many fucking times do we have to tell you dumbasses it’s not like that?”
His cheeks are red. His eyes are red. He’s staring at Izuku with an odd look on his face, and Izuku feels a chill of his own, like a word on the tip of his tongue that he can’t quite remember.
“Why not?”
“I don’t fuck my friends,” Bakugou snaps, turning back to his pan.
It’s still empty.
Izuku gets off his stool, and comes to lean against the other side of the island, arms crossed over his chest, one foot against Bakugou’s kitchen cabinet. Bakugou pretends not to notice and pokes the oil in the pan with his wooden spoon. There’s a block of extra firm tofu on the counter, and a few bottles—sesame oil, chili pepper oil, fish sauce, soy sauce, a head of garlic—but nothing has been opened or used yet.
“You could,” Izuku says. “What are you afraid of?”
“Fuck you, nerd, I’m not afraid, I’m just not an idiot.”
“Elaborate,” Izuku says, eyes flicking down to Bakugou’s cold pan.
Bakugou grabs the handle and rolls the oil around. “Fucking stupid to fool around with your friends. You think you and Todoroki are just gonna walk away when you’re done?”
“Yeah. Why not? It’s just sex. It just feels good. You’ve never had a fling, Kacchan?”
“Fuck off,” Bakugou grumbles, then thumps the pan back down on the stove. “What the fuck is wrong with this—”
Izuku reaches over, crowds Bakugou against the stove and puts his hand on the knob at the front. “Should probably turn the heat on.”
Bakugou is very, very still.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” Izuku can’t help but press. “You’ve never had a fling. Like a one night thing.”
“I’ve had flings,” Bakugou protests, swinging around now and looking up at Izuku. His eyes go wide when he realizes how close Izuku is to him, and Izuku sees him swallow.
A flash of warmth fills Izuku’s chest. This close, he can smell the pot in Bakugou’s clothes and the sugar sweet scent of his quirk clinging to his skin.
“With who?”
“No one you know,” Bakugou says stubbornly. Izuku is shocked when he doesn’t push Izuku away, but he seems softer and slower than usual, like all his edges have been smoothed away.
“Aw, come on, Kacchan, you expect me to believe you’ve never hooked up with anyone I know? Half the class would kill to get in your pants.”
Bakugou’s cheeks go red. “That’s bullshit.”
“No, it’s not,” Izuku says with a laugh. “After Todoroki, you’re the best looking guy we know.”
Bakugou scowls sharply, eyes narrowing, and hisses, “That fucking pretty boy—”
“You’re right. You’re not pretty, are you, Kacchan.”
He goes quiet again, lips parted, eyes wide. He looks shocked, confused, and like he can’t tear his eyes from Izuku’s face. Izuku’s heart is beating so hard it hurts. He doesn’t know what he’s doing—or he does, but he’s not sure why. He isn’t planning anything, doesn’t know what he’s going to say until he says it.
“You’re more… rough, aren’t you?” Izuku presses. “It’s not a competition, you know, some people think you’re sexier than Todoroki.” Bakugou huffs a little breath like someone pushed on his chest. “Some people think I am.”
“Oh, you, nerd?” Bakugou says, trying for venom and just sounding a little petulant.
“Sure,” Izuku says, shrugging one shoulder. “Some people like freckles. Think they’re cute.”
“I know what I look like,” Bakugou says, and Izuku fights off a shiver of his own. Bakugou’s voice is lazy, arrogant, gravely tone soft with the hour and the weed. “You think you’re hot shit cause you bagged Todoroki?”
Izuku shrugs. “Because it’s so easy.”
“If you can do it,” Bakugou tries, lifting his chin.
“But you won’t… Hey, Kacchan?”
“What, nerd.”
“I was just thinking.”
“What?” Bakugou presses when Izuku doesn’t go on.
Izuku licks his lips, heart in his throat. This. This could end so badly. But…
He lowers his voice, feels the words rolling around in his chest before he speaks them, knows how smooth they’ll sound, like warm honey, knows how sly. “We’re not really friends.”
Bakugou goes stone-still. Izuku thinks he might even be holding his breath.
“Are we?”
Bakugou’s wooden spoon clatters into his cold, oily pan, and he whirls hard. Izuku tenses, expecting Bakugou to shove him away, push him into the kitchen island and start screaming at him, except when Bakugou lifts his hands, it’s to twist his fingers in Izuku’s hair.
He drags Izuku’s face down to his, and it’s clumsy, and thoughtless, and frantic. Izuku shoves Bakugou back against the oven so hard the whole thing rocks.
Izuku’s skin burns wherever Bakugou touches him. It burns and it sings and Izuku feels himself smiling against Bakugou’s lips, a giddy, fizzy disbelief filling his head and making him bold and arrogant and pushy.
He’d been convinced he wasn’t all that fucked from Kaminari’s weed, except someone’s hands on his face have never felt so good.
And Bakugou.
Bakugou is limp and loose like taffy, licking into Izuku’s mouth, pushing his hands in Izuku’s hair, lolling against Izuku’s chest.
Instantly, Izuku wants out of the kitchen, wants Bakugou out of his clothes, wants—
Fuck.
He’d had the odd fantasy here and there. He’d never really forgotten the way Bakugou had treated him as a kid. They’d moved past it. Now Bakugou treats Izuku mostly the same way he treats everyone else—which is to say, kinda shitty, but not nearly as shitty as things had been.
So maybe that’s why once Izuku bulked up and lost the baby fat in his face he’d never fantasized about kicking Bakugou’s ass so much as fucking destroying it.
He’d almost felt guilty about it. Like, after everything he and Bakugou had been through, after the tenuous just barely friendly relationship they’d cultivated, it had been wrong of him to notice how tiny and round Bakugou’s perfect little ass is in his hero uniform. He knows his friends would look at him like he's nuts if he admitted he’d never come harder (by himself at least) than the first time he’d pictured coming all over Bakugou’s perfect, perky tits.
It’s kinda fucked. Izuku knows that.
And it makes this so much fucking better.
He doesn’t know what his hands are doing until Bakugou’s head is tilted so far back it’s probably uncomfortable. He has one on Bakugou’s cheek, gentle and soft and soothingly delicate.
The other is at the nape of his neck, fingers curled tight in Bakugou’s silk soft hair, just holding him there while Izuku kisses him. Bakugou makes a high, breathy sound that shoots through Izuku’s chest.
He’s smaller than Izuku thought he would be.
Some part of Izuku always pictures Bakugou like he had when they were kids: impossibly strong, arrogant grin, towering over Izuku even though he’d only been a few inches taller, and shoving Izuku around like Izuku was a rag doll.
Izuku tightens his hands—both of them, the one in Bakugou’s hair curling into a vicious fist, and the one at his cheek digging into the soft skin over Bakugou’s jaw—and feels Bakugou flair into sharp shock and panic before he goes completely lax in Izuku’s hands and… whimpers.
What the fuck?
What the fuck?
Izuku jerks the hand at the back of Bakugou’s head and Bakugou hisses and whines again, hands fisting in Izuku’s shirt front, lips and tongue pressing at Izuku’s mouth and the incredible thing is, he doesn’t push away. He doesn’t slap Izuku’s hands and tell him to quit fucking around. He doesn’t—he lets Izuku—
Fantasy is one thing but Izuku would have bet money Bakugou would be a bossy, demanding little shit in bed, would have staked a month’s pay on the idea that Bakugou at least thought he liked to call all the shots. It's the main reason Izuku had always privately thought Bakugou was better off with Kaminari than Kirishima—at least until the whole Shinsou thing had happened.
This is very unexpected.
Izuku decides not to overthink it.
Instead, he twists, and shoves Bakugou chest first into the kitchen island. Bakugou catches himself, chest heaving, panting like he’d been fighting, and Izuku slips his hands under Bakugou’s shirt. He rubs his scarred palms over the thick, bunched muscle flexing across Bakugou’s broad shoulders, and devastatingly thin waist, presses his hips to Bakugou’s, and feels himself smile when Bakugou actually pushes back.
Izuku kisses the back of his neck, drags his teeth over Bakugou’s ear lobe without biting down. Bakugou shivers hard and twists his head reflexively to hide his ear, but Izuku has his cheek pressed to Bakugou’s and doesn’t let him turn away.
“Upstairs?”
Bakugou doesn’t actually form coherent words; he grunts sort of questioningly, and then when he realizes what Izuku asked him, he grunts in approval, and then when Izuku physically picks him up and flings him over his shoulder, he grunts in shock and probably fury. The sound is cut off when Izuku (mostly just to fuck with Bakugou, if he’s being really honest with himself) activates his quirk and flashes up the stairs on a trail of green lightning.
He flings Bakugou down onto his (low, neatly made and headboard-less) bed and watches Bakugou’s eyes roll shut. He’s visibly disoriented, maybe even a little dizzy from the way Izuku had just whipped him up the stairs like that.
He manages one weak, “Fucking hell, ner—D-Deku?” before Izuku puts his knees on the bed and drags Bakugou forward by the thighs. Bakugou sits up, mouth seeking Izuku’s, and he gasps hard when Izuku pushes him back down again with his hand on Bakugou’s chest. There is another flare of green light and Izuku holds him there.
If Izuku had stopped to think, he might have pulled back, just a little. But he doesn't think and he doesn't slow down. How can he?
He'd had no idea how much he wanted this, how good it would feel to see Bakugou so thoroughly dominated. That burning caramel smell gets a little stronger; Izuku can feel Bakugou's heart racing under his palm, spread possessively across Bakugou’s chest.
Bakugou's eyes fall closed, blonde lashes fluttering against his red cheeks. He's breathing so hard, clinging to Izuku's wrist with one hand. The other is on Izuku's thigh, fingertips digging into Izuku's jeans like he wants to drag Izuku closer.
He would have expected arrogance and self-assured demand, but not this. Not this, limp, mewling, desperate little slut.
His eyes are still closed, and Izuku moves the hand curled around Bakugou's waist up to his jaw. "Look at me, Kacchan." Bakugou's brows furrow, like he might be angry, and he tries to turn his head into Izuku's hand. Izuku pushes back, keeps him from hiding. "Come on."
Bakugou opens his eyes and he tries to glare but there is no fire in it, no combat.
Izuku doesn't understand, but he isn't complaining either. He likes this needy, pliant Bakugou, likes that he feels like Bakugou would let him do whatever he wanted to and would thank him for it after.
It's a surprise but maybe it shouldn't be. Bakugou is wound so tight most of the time, maybe Izuku should have expected him to have at least one good way to fall apart.
Izuku smiles at him, shows all his teeth without meaning to. He probably looks like a shark. Or a wolf. Bakugou's breath catches and Izuku feels it under his palm. His eyes are wide now, trained on Izuku's face.
"Nothing to say to me, Kacchan?"
Bakugou’s throat moves and he opens his mouth, eyes wide in a way that strikes Izuku as almost innocent for some reason he can’t quite understand.
Then Bakugou’s mouth closes stubbornly, and his eyes narrow and he looks so much like Izuku had expected that he forgets to think harder about what he’d seen before, that he forgets to wonder why Bakugou had been staring at him like that.
“Nothing at all?” Izuku teases. He moves his hands to Bakugou’s waist and unbuttons his jeans. Bakugou gasps again and even moans, eyes rolling back while Izuku starts to work the waistband down around Bakugou’s hips. “No ‘fuck you, shitty Deku’s, no ‘worthless fucking nerd’s tonight?”
Izuku had meant it as a tease but as he speaks the last four words, quotes Bakugou’s worst tendencies back at him, Izuku’s voice goes unexpectedly dark. Bakugou swallows hard again, eyes opening now and landing, very obviously, on Izuku’s mouth.
Izuku gets Bakugou’s jeans down around his thighs and laughs when he sees how wet the gray fabric of his boxer briefs are. “Look at you. You soaked your panties for me, Kacchan?”
He presses his palm to the wet spot and Bakugou bites back an outright moan, shivers like he didn’t mean to. He sounds like a fucking porno, like a cam boy.
He moaned so perfect Izuku almost thinks he has to be faking except he feels the way Bakugou’s cock jumps in his underwear, feels the shiver that runs through him again and those are very hard to fake.
“Why are you doing this?” Bakugou grits out, startling Izuku from his appreciative musings. He considers Bakugou’s question in silence for a beat, and then peels the underwear down. “F-fuck, fuck—” Bakugou whispers like he can’t help it.
“Doing what?” Izuku goads, although he thinks he knows. He drags one finger down the exposed underside of Bakugou’s cock and watches precome bead off the tip.
He’s so hard his skin looks blood red, head pulled tight and shiny, and soaked in so much precome Izuku almost wonders if Bakugou had come in his pants the second Izuku had touched him and Izuku just hadn’t noticed.
“With me,” Bakugou grits out around another low, helpless moan. “Why not—oh my—hi—why not call Halfie—fuck.”
Izuku blinks at him. “I’m with you.”
“Fucked. You’re so fucked,” Bakugou slurs and now he almost sounds like he’s going to start laughing.
Izuku keeps dragging his finger up and down Bakugou’s cock and offers no more stimulation than that. Bakugou is shaking and Izuku is too pleased, too thoroughly overjoyed to wonder about it.
It takes him a second to realize what Bakugou means, and when he does, he laughs.
“Oh, I get it. You mean why would I want to go to bed with you.” Izuku lifts his eyes to Bakugou’s face, finds Bakugou staring at him like Izuku holds Bakugou’s life in his hands. “After everything between us.”
Bakugou bites his lip and doesn’t say anything.
Izuku stares down at him, and then wordlessly disentangles himself, climbs off the bed. Bakugou makes a sound like Izuku just stabbed him and then flushes all the way to his toes when he realizes Izuku only stood up to get undressed. He watches Izuku do it, and Izuku can't help but bask in the attention. It feels so fucking good he wants to just stand here, make Bakugou stare at him, feel Bakugou wanting him.
He takes a guess and opens the deep drawer in Bakugou’s nightstand and is rewarded by Bakugou jerking up off the bed and shouting, “Wait—”
Izuku is already looking inside and he starts to laugh again.
There is the lube he was looking for. It's in a red, blue, and yellow tube branded 'All Night.' There’s also a few toys. The pocket pussy, the modestly sized butt plug, even the thick metal cock ring don’t really surprise Izuku.
The huge green and white dildo is another story.
Izuku only recognizes it because Todoroki had found it on twitter and sent him the link as a joke—some private seller who specialized in unofficial hero merch had made it based on Hero Deku’s suit.
Izuku had been equal parts horrified, amused, and proud since he wasn’t even officially a pro hero for a few more weeks. He picks it up and turns to face Bakugou, who is so red in the face, Izuku wonders if he might be having some kind of episode.
“To answer your question, Kacchan,” Izuku says, setting the dildo down on the nightstand hard enough that the suction cup on the bottom engages and it just wobbles there looking damning and utterly obscene. He gets onto the bed and effortlessly wrestles Bakugou over so he’s chest down on the bed, so Izuku’s chest is pressed to his back, bicep wrapped around Bakugou’s shoulders, hoisting him up off the mattress.
“I’m gonna fuck you so good you won’t ever come again without wishing it was me inside you.”
Bakugou sucks in a breath, starts panting like he can’t get enough air, like he’s drowning.
“Can you think of a better revenge? Because I can’t.”
Bakugou is quiet except for the way he is breathing, and he still doesn’t say anything, even when Izuku grinds his cock between those perfect round asscheeks. “Still nothing to say?”
Izuku speaks the words into the soft hair falling above Bakugou’s ear, punctuates his question with a gentle kiss to Bakugou’s temple. Bakugou starts shaking again and this time he doesn’t stop.
“That’s okay, Kacchan,” Izuku informs him when he still doesn’t speak. “We’re gonna play a little game, since you don’t want to talk to me. You only have to say four words, you can do that, can’t you, Kacchan?”
“Y—”
“You can nod. ‘Yes’ isn’t one of your words.”
Bakugou is silent, and still. Izuku thinks he might be holding his breath. Finally, after what feels like a long time (although Izuku is probably being impatient) Bakugou nods, head jerking hard.
“Good,” Izuku coos at him, dragging one hand up to pet over Bakugou’s hair. He leaves the other arm curled tight around Bakugou’s chest, hinting not so subtly at how easy it would be for him to slip his arm just a little bit higher. “Here are your words. Are you ready?”
Bakugou nods.
“Repeat them back to me after I say them.” He nods again and Izuku almost just floats away right then and there. “You’re being a very good boy, Kacchan, if you keep being so good I might have to fuck you more than once.”
“Fucking shit—” Bakugou hisses.
“Ah!” Izuku chastises. “You get one for free, but from now on if you say anything but your words I’m going to have to punish you.”
Bakugou whimpers, loud like a dog and goes limp in Izuku’s grip again. Or the top half of him does. The bottom half grinds up against Izuku’s cock.
Izuku sighs with pleasure.
“Okay. Okay, calm down now, listen. Here are your words. Repeat them back. Go.”
“Go.” Bakugou’s voice already sounds wrecked, too hoarse and too quiet and like maybe he needs a drink of water. He whispers when he speaks and the soft, overwhelmed sound shoots straight to Izuku’s cock.
“Good, that’s good, Kacchan. Your second word is ‘Stop.’”
“S-stop.”
“Good. Harder.”
Another shiver wracks Bakugou’s body and his voice goes too high when he whispers, “Harder.”
It is the single most obscene sound Izuku thinks he has ever heard.
“Oh, that’s very good, say it just like that.”
Bakugou is quiet, breathing too fast, head hanging down over Izuku’s arm so his hair falls in his eyes.
“Kacchan.”
“H-harder.”
“I like that one. Are you ready for your last word?” He nods. “Slower.”
“Slower,” Bakugou says, and now he sounds all syrupy again, gooey, warm and sticky.
“Good job, baby,” Izuku says and doesn’t realize what he’s done until he’s already halfway through his next sentence. “Remember you only get to use those four words, alright?” Bakugou nods. “And as long as you do, I’ll do exactly what you say. Understand?” The room is too silent for a beat and Izuku adds, “You can say ‘yes’ this time.”
“Yes. I—yes.”
Izuku kisses his temple again. “Good boy.” He sits back, drops Bakugou back against the bed, and grabs for the bottle of lube to drench his own cock and Bakugou’s truly incredible ass.
“Do you know you have a truly incredible ass, Kacchan? It’s gonna look so good wrapped around my cock.” Bakugou starts to lift his head and chest, to turn and look at Izuku, but Izuku shoves him back down, and yanks his hips up. “Stay like that.”
Bakugou does.
He listens well like this, and Izuku opens his mouth to tell him, but he’s distracted by the sight when he spreads Bakugou’s ass cheeks with both hands. Bakugou’s whole body ratchets tighter and he makes a choked off sound into the sheets that makes Izuku’s heart skip.
Izuku doesn’t waste any time. He drags the head of his cock over Backugou’s rim, lines himself up and starts to press in.
“Stop!” Bakugou’s voice is shocked and frantic and he looks around at Izuku with wild eyes. Izuku stops moving. He doesn’t pull out. He doesn’t let Bakugou pull away from him. He just freezes with the very tip of his dick just pressing at Bakugou’s body.
Bakugou makes a quiet, strangled sort of sound, hips trembling in Izuku’s hands.
“You’re okay,” Izuku tells him. “You’re doing good, baby.”
Bakugou swallows. After a beat, he whispers back, “G-go.”
Izuku sighs when he does, stroking his hand over Bakugou’s back. He eases in torturously slowly, since he didn’t bother helping Bakugou relax first, and sticks to the rules of his own game when Bakugou chokes, “Stop.”
His eyes are squeezed shut, whole face bright red, one cheek pressed to the mattress and hands fisted in his sheets. His knees are trembling.
Izuku can feel Bakugou squeezing around him, clenching at the admittedly thick head of his cock; Bakugou apparently can’t take any more than that yet.
“Hurt, baby?” Izuku says mildly.
Bakugou licks his lips, and then nods.
“Deep breath.”
Bakugou obeys, taking one deep, ragged breath, and then another, and another, and Izuku feels the tension fall out of his legs.
“Better?”
He nods again, and then he says very quietly, “Go.”
Izuku doesn’t so much push in as pull Bakugou back onto his dick, and he can feel something shift, all at once feels like Bakugou can take it.
Bakugou hisses, “Slower,” in a high tight voice, and when Izuku does—when he slows down, but doesn’t stop, when he keeps feeding his cock into that perfect, tight little ass, Bakugou finally, truly, unabashedly moans.
“Does it feel good?” Izuku teases, knowing Bakugou won’t answer him with words.
Bakugou nods, babels some sort of garbled assent, and then gasps hard, “Stop!”
It doesn’t matter. It’s already done.
Izuku is buried to the hilt and he can feel Bakugou squeezing around every fat inch, body so hot and tight, it’s making Izuku dizzy.
“You did it, baby. You did so good. I’m bigger than your toy, you know. I checked when Todoroki sent the link. It’s a good inch and a half shorter than me. Not so thick either. For a guy with such a tiny ass you take cock so well.”
Bakugou shifts, makes quiet little mewling sounds that change incrementally from overt shock and probably discomfort to—
“You like it, don’t you. Feels good.”
Bakugou communicates in gasps and deliciously surprised half moans. When Izuku speaks, he feels how much Bakugou likes it, can feel him squeezing around Izuku’s cock, can feel how crazed Izuku is making him. “You gonna let me fuck you now?”
The truly enthusiastic moan Bakugou responds with makes Izuku's chest clench with outright joy. He can't stop smiling, can't stop rubbing his hand over Bakugou's low back and ass.
Izuku can't remember the last time he was this turned on, thinks it was probably the second time he was with Todoroki (the first time had happened too fast and frantic and unexpected for Izuku to really feel it).
He can't stop looking at Bakugou's frankly pornographic physique.
He's perfect. Bigger, more muscular than Kaminari (who Izuku is sure owns the title of World's Most Perfect Twink), more compact, lither than Todoroki who could have been just as bulky as his father if he wanted, but who was happy being tall, flexible, and unexpectedly solid instead.
Izuku had always known Bakugou was his own personal wet dream except for whenever he opened his mouth, so this really shouldn't have surprised him, but—
"Fuck, go!" Bakugou curses, frustration dripping from every word.
Izuku slaps him on the ass hard enough to make him yelp in shock but barely hard enough to leave a mark.
"Last warning, Kacchan. The next one won't be so nice."
"Think you're being nice?" Bakugou hisses.
Izuku doesn't bother answering him, just gives him one ruthlessly hard slap for each word he'd said.
Bakugou yells and jerks hard, winds up accidentally throwing himself back, forcing Izuku's cock deeper inside him.
The harsh, gasping breaths Bakugou makes, the way he clenches around Izuku with every slap—Izuku actually feels legitimately light headed, like all the feeling in his body has shifted into his cock or the very crown of his head.
He is too floaty, too fuzzy, too-too fucking high still and the realization makes him laugh.
"I could just sit here and spank you all night, baby, you sound so perfect when I hurt you."
Bakugou groans, low in his chest, a deep sound that strikes Izuku as almost… devastated.
How long had Izuku been holding him like this, speared on his cock with no hint of relief?
"Tell me what to do, baby."
"Go. Go, go, go, go—"
Izuku does, starts pounding that perfect little ass with a pace that falls on just the right side of cruel. He yanks Bakugou back by the hips with every thrust, drives himself deep, and then pulls Bakugou even deeper.
Bakugou wails. His whole body goes limp, completely, helplessly pliant for however Izuku wants to use him.
For a long time, there is no thought but this.
There is no sound but Bakugou moaning like an over-zealous porn star, and the obscene slap of Izuku's hips against Bakugou's visibly trembling ass.
Izuku loves the way Bakugou screams, recognizes those loud, unselfconscious cries as the utterly helpless moans of a man so overwhelmed with pleasure it might as well be pain, so consumed by sensation every thought and feeling flares into white static.
He knows that for Bakugou, there is no more consciousness from second to second. There is, has been, and will be only Izuku and nothing but Izuku, filling him up and taking what he wants, and Bakugou can only scream.
Izuku had taken him here so quickly he can't help but be proud of himself. For most men this would be a grueling pace but Izuku isn't winded yet. He knows Bakugou probably won't come like this, is probably too completely overcome.
But things feel slow, and thick for Izuku.
He keeps his pace and finds Bakugou's rapturous screams begin to sound like they're coming from underwater.
He drags his eyes from Bakugou's back and sees his beautiful little toes curled tight toward the ceiling, sees that the tremble that started in Bakugou's thighs has made it down to his ankles.
It hits him hard.
He doesn’t expect it and all at once he realizes this is the culmination of so much frustration and fear and twisted, confused longing, and Izuku really had always known Bakugou was—fuck, so fucking sexy— but he’d never really thought he’d get the chance—or even that he’d take it if he did, that he’d actually agree to sleep with Bakugou. Bakugou fucking katsuki. Izuku is fucking Kacchan.
And god help him, he starts to laugh.
“Oh, fuck Kacchan, I never thought you’d be such a pathetic cock slut.”
Bakugou’s hands tighten in the sheets, and his unabashed moans die in his throat, like he’s choking them back.
“If I’d known you were just gonna lay back and spread your legs at the first chance—”
“Fuck you, Deku,” Bakugou grits out, and Izuku is impressed he can form words at all, knows he’d probably had to collect himself to even get out that much.
Izuku pulls out, and Bakugou yelps before he starts to go limp again, but Izuku is wrestling him onto his back now, thrusting one of Bakugou’s knees to his chest.
He reaches up and taps Bakugou’s cheek with his fingertips, more threat than slap, knows it’s not even enough to sting, and says, “Talk again—”
“Harder.”
Izuku almost draws up short, heart stuttering in his chest, and thoughts grinding to a halt before Bakugou gasps again, “Please, hard—”
Izuku does two things at once.
He fucks back into Bakugou ruthlessly, thoughtlessly, a flare of green around his hips making the room light up as he forces Bakugou’s knee against his chest with one hand. And he pulls back with the other and backhands Bakugou across the face.
Bakugou screams, but the shocked, pained yelp doesn’t taper off. It swells, and Bakugou’s back bows up off the bed.
He comes so hard Izuku sees white when Bakugou’s body squeezes around him, when the slick, hot heat Izuku has been pounding into throbs so fiercely, Izuku loses his pace.
He feels like he’s going to float up off the bed as he watches, watches Bakugou’s whole body draw so tight it must hurt, watches him wail and choke as he’s swamped with wave after wave of pleasure so powerful Izuku can feel what it does to his poor, sex abused body.
It’s not over quickly. Bakugou’s voice dies before his orgasm does, and he lays there shaking, mouth open and chest heaving while Izuku keeps thrusting inside him, pace weak with the sheer bliss of watching Bakugou (Kacchan, his Kacchan) come like that.
Fuck, he did that.
“Fuck, baby—” he whispers, shocked and dazed like he was the one who just—
Izuku eases off Bakugou’s leg a little, shifts back so he can see.
Bakugou’s belly and chest are soaked in come. Fucking Christ it hit him so hard he’s got come under his chin, and he’s just laying there shivering and—
“Are you crying?”
Bakugou doesn’t answer him, but Izuku doesn’t really need him to. He leans forward, drapes his body over Bakugou’s chest, lets Bakugou’s leg fall over his shoulder, and licks the come off his chin before he kisses him.
Bakugou puts his hands in Izuku’s hair and Izuku can tell from the heavy way his hands drag that he’s tired, that he’s—
But then he’s kissing Izuku back, and it’s deep, and shivery, and Izuku is still fucking him, but slower now, softer.
“Harder,” Bakugou whispers against his lips, but he doesn’t sound sure of himself, doesn’t sound like he had before.
“No.”
“You—you said.”
“Game’s over, baby, did you like it?”
Bakugou nods, head lolling against the pillows.
“You did so good,” Izuku says breathlessly.
His whole body feels tight, feels poised on the edge of something incredible, but stuck there too, and with a sigh he refuses to let Bakugou see, he stops, and eases out.
Bakugou moans and squeezes his hands in Izuku’s hair when he says, “Wait, wait, did—” His eyes open, and Izuku can tell he’s embarrassed to ask, can sense a sheepishness to his tone when he says, “Did, did you uh. C-come? Did you finish?”
Izuku kisses his cheek and says, “No. It’s okay though. You kinda seem done,” he adds with a playful smile. Bakugou narrows his eyes, gives Izuku a look that might be furious if his face wasn’t so red and his hands weren’t still shaking, and he didn’t have a little spot of come drying on his neck.
He opens his mouth, and the words seem to stall before he grits out all in a rush, “Fucking come in me now and don’t be such a little bitch about it.”
Izuku looks him in the eye and starts to laugh.
Bakugou glares and shoves him very weakly on the shoulder.
“Don’t need you to take care of me,” Bakugou insists. “Come on, I can take it. Fuck me.”
Izuku bends down and kisses the red spot across Bakugou’s cheek and feels a slightly concerning swell of satisfaction when Bakugou hisses in pain. “I know you can take it, Kacchan. You can take anything.”
“Come on,” Bakugou whispers. “We’re—we’re here, we. Might as well.”
“Oh, might as well, yeah, that’s really tempting.”
Bakugou groans and says all in a rush, “Fuck, please? I wanna see your face when you—” He cuts himself off, and when Izuku pulls back to look at him, his whole face is cherry red, like he’d said something he hadn’t meant to.
Izuku thinks of the dildo, realizes he hadn’t given it enough thought before. He’d just thought it was funny, but.
But Bakugou had a Deku-themed dildo—one he didn’t want Izuku to see—and that….
Izuku kisses him, long, and slow, and deep, and eases Bakugou’s leg off his shoulder, and down around his hips. He pushes in slowly, basks in the tight little “Ngn!” sound Bakugou makes behind his teeth before he drops back against the pillows.
“F-fuck, Deku.” And then he whimpers when he says, “Fuck, you’re so fucking big.”
Izuku drags his fingers down Bakugou’s cheek. “God, you’re so sexy, Kacchan. So fucking hot, I can tell how much you want me, it’s so good, you feel so good—”
Bakugou tightens his hands in Izuku’s hair, panting quiet, overwhelmed moans now. “I—I want—harder, do it harder, I want—”
“Want me to come?”
“God, yes.”
Izuku leans back, takes Bakugou by the hips again, and finds his pace.
The shift in angle makes him slide deeper, makes Bakugou arch up and start yelling with the shock of such sudden over stimulation.
He stays tight, hips stuttering against Izuku’s, but the rhythm is exactly what Izuku likes, and it’s only seconds before he feels his cock throb and pulse and spill.
“Oh, god, Kacchan, yes, Kacchan, Kacchan, Kacchan—”
Izuku’s whole body tightens in one violent, euphoric wave when Bakugou moans back, “God, Deku, yes.”
Izuku’s world narrows to the feel of his throbbing cock, slipping shallowly in and out of Bakugou’s tight, wet hole, to the obscene, slick sound it makes with each slide, to the incredible way Bakugou’s deep, rough voice sounds wrapped around a moan, practically crying Izuku’s name.
He comes back to himself panting for breath, holding Bakugou’s hips tight against his own, feeling the last traces of his orgasm trembling in Bakugou’s body. Bakugou’s hands are fisted in the sheets, twisting them as he tries and fails not to squirm desperately on Izuku’s cock.
He makes tiny, helpless sounds, and Izuku can’t help but take one last look at how incredible he looks spread around Izuku’s cock. It doesn’t look like it should be possible. He just seems so small in Izuku’s hands, and pressed up against Izuku’s hips.
Izuku shivers hard, and says, “Fuck, Kacchan, I’d murder a man for a picture of your cute little ass all tight around my big, fat cock.”
“I’ll fucking kill you, nerd,” Bakugou growls, a little weakly if Izuku is any judge.
Izuku laughs, and eases out much more carefully now, a lot more concerned with hurting Bakugou for real now that they’ve both… settled down a bit.
Bakugou still shivers and moans quietly, and Izuku watches a little of his own come drip from Bakugou’s body before Bakugou squeezes his knees together in an adorable display of self-consciousness.
Izuku smirks at him and drags his fingers lightly over Bakugou’s soaked rim, makes him yelp in surprise. Izuku looks him in the eye when he sucks his fingers into his mouth.
“Fuck is wrong with you, nerd?” Bakugou whispers, cheeks brilliant red.
Izuku stretches out beside him and hums. “I guess I just want as many sensory memories as possible since you’re probably not gonna let me do that again.”
Bakugou yanks a sheet over his come-sticky belly, and mumbles, “You’d. You’d wanna do it again?”
“Uh huh,” Izuku gushes, rolling on his side and burying his nose under Bakugou’s ear. “That was really good for me, Kacchan. Wasn’t it good for you?”
Bakugou is silent for a long time, and Izuku thinks he’s going to try to lie, try to deny how hard he’d come like Izuku hadn’t felt every second of it. Then he says quietly, “Yeah. Yeah, it was good.”
“Hey, Kacchan?”
“What.”
“Why do you have that?” Izuku mumbles, jerking his shoulder toward the nightstand and the dildo he’d left on display.
Bakugou sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “I. I dunno, nerd, maybe. Maybe I sorta liked. Thinking. About you,” Bakugou mumbles.
Izuku feels his cheeks heat. He’d been half convinced Bakugou would come up with an excuse. That someone had given it to him as a joke maybe, and that he’d never actually used it. “You. You thought about me when you touched yourself?”
“I don’t wanna talk about this,” Bakugou hisses, voice furious all of a sudden. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Yeah, okay,” Izuku agrees. He’s feeling a little too fuzzy headed for that conversation anyway. “Hey, Kacchan?”
“What.”
“Is your cheek okay? I uh. Hit you kinda hard, I don’t usually-that hard-”
“‘S fine,” Bakugou says with a sigh. And then he adds sharply, “What do you mean usually?”
Izuku shrugs his shoulder. “Well, Todoroki likes it when I slap him, but he doesn’t like it nearly so hard.”
“Oh fucking hell,” Bakugou hisses.
Izuku grins and puts his lips against Bakugou’s ear when he whispers, “But you did, didn’t you, baby? You came so hard I think I saw God.”
“Smug fucker,” Bakugou growls back, but Izuku feels him shiver.
“Be right back,” he says, kissing Bakugou’s cheek. It feels fearfully hot against his lips, and Bakugou makes a soft, contented sighing sound when Izuku does. “Gonna get a towel. Get you all cleaned up.”
“You’re uh. You’re not. Going?” Bakugou says, sitting up and watching Izuku climb out of bed.
“Nope, not after that,” Izuku announces. “So don’t try to kick me out, it won’t work.”
“Uh. Oh. Okay,” Bakugou mumbles, laying back down.
Izuku wanders off, fully naked and dripping lube onto his own thighs, to find a towel, and a glass of water for them to share. When he gets back to Bakugou, Bakugou is curled up under all his blankets, shaking from head to toe.
“Kacchan?”
“What?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Cold,” Bakugou grumbles. He sounds mostly okay at least.
Izuku leaves the towel draped across the foot of the bed, and crawls under the covers, tucks Bakugou’s sticky, sweaty, too warm body against his chest, and later thinks he fell asleep the instant Bakugou sighed and relaxed against him, cold shivers chased away.
***
Bakugou’s apartment gets a lot of natural light. Izuku manages to sleep through the sunrise, and when Bakugou wakes up early, Izuku tightens his arms around Bakugou’s chest and just says, “No.”
Bakugou grumbles about not staying in bed all day, but they must both fall back asleep, because when Izuku wakes up again, the sun is high enough that the light in the room isn’t so bright anymore.
He feels sluggish, fuzzy and tired, and when he thinks of what they’d done, of how brazen he’d been right away like that, he flushes so hot he thinks he might start sweating. The things he’d said to Bakugou—they way he’d treated him—
He feels a sharp swell of guilt when he remembers how hard he’d hit him, remembers how satisfying that sharp crack had been, how Bakugou’s head had snapped sideways and Izuku’s cock had throbbed so hard he’d almost come right then. Fuck, he might have if Bakugou hadn’t, if he hadn’t distracted Izuku with the single hottest thing he’d ever seen or felt in his life.
Bakugou is curled into Izuku in his sleep, snuggling up next to him, and looking disconcertingly vulnerable.
Izuku swallows.
Bakugou is covered in bruises. There are purple fingerprints littered across his thighs, a line across his chest, probably from Izuku shoving him into the kitchen island, and a small, dark spot right on the peak of cheekbone where Izuku’s knuckle had caught him.
Izuku gulps hard and shifts in discomfort, wonders if, in the light of the day, Bakugou will go back to hating him again.
He slips out of bed, just to have something to do, and pads to the railing that overlooks the apartment. The kitchen is a disaster. Bakugou’s pan is upside down on the floor. The bottles he’d pulled out to cook with are scattered across the counter; one had rolled onto the floor and thankfully not broken.
When Izuku turns back to the bed, Bakugou is waking. He opens his eyes and gives Izuku a fuzzy look, but when his gaze clears, he doesn’t look away.
He doesn’t scowl and start yelling. He doesn’t glare.
Instead, his eyes track up and down Izuku’s whole body, and it’s not until they settle, very obviously, between Izuku’s legs, that Izuku feels relief fill his chest. He bounds back into the bed wordlessly, shoves Bakugou back down, and very cheerfully starts sucking him off.
Bakugou gasps hard, moans all tight and restrained, and Izuku can tell how it’s different from last night, how Bakugou is holding back, but he can also tell how much he likes this, how overwhelmed he is.
Izuku lifts up, suckles teasingly at the tip, and feels Bakugou give in, feels him lose himself to the sensation of Izuku taking him apart like this.
“Oh, god,” he groans. “Oh, my god, Deku—”
They both jump violently when there is a loud knock at the door.
Backugou’s eyes land on Izuku’s in a sudden panic, but before either of them can react, a voice comes through the door.
“Yo, B! Open up!” Kirishima calls. “Hey, you in there?”
Izuku starts to look toward the door, but the unbridled terror in Bakugou’s face gives him pause. Bakugou hisses, “Hide!”
Izuku narrows his eyes. “I’m not—”
The door opens.
“Shit, it's unlock—Hey, B?” Kirishima calls again. “You—”
“Holy shit.”
Bakugou goes white at the sound of Kaminari’s voice.
“I’m sure he’s okay,” Shinsou says. “It’s probably just—”
“What are they—” Bakugou mouths at Izuku.
“Your kitchen is a wreck,” Izuku whispers back.
“Bakubro?” Kaminari calls, and they can hear him running toward the stairs now. “Hey, are you—”
“Don’t come up here!” Bakugou bellows, yanking the blankets up around his chest, but it’s already too late. Kaminari’s head comes into view, relief written all over his face.
“Why didn’t you say—”
He goes quiet when he sees Izuku. Bakugou buries his face in his hands.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Shinsou calls now, and Izuku guesses he must be moving toward the stairs.
Kaminari yelps, “Holy shit!”
“What?” Kirishima calls, panic in his voice.
“Quiet,” Izuku mumbles at Kaminari, “Can you just—”
“Jesus, cover up,” Bakugou hisses suddenly, and Izuku realizes he’s just sitting there, totally naked staring at Kaminari, and—
“Uh, he’s fine. It’s all fine,” Izuku calls to keep the other two from coming up here.
Bakugou throws himself back onto the bed and groans.
Rather than keep the others away, the sound of Izuku’s voice sends Kirishima and Shinsou pounding up the stairs.
“No fucking way,” Kirishima yelps when his head pops into view.
Kaminari claps one hand over his mouth and makes a sound like a kid at a carnival before he crows, “Midoriya Izuku, collector of V cards!”
Bakugou sits up straight. Izuku stares at Kaminari for a long time and has no idea what he’d just said.
“God, finally,” Kaminari drawls, looking down at Shinsou, who is lower on the stairs and looks surprised but still as relaxed as ever. “I told you that shit you got is fucking magic. Magic sex weed. If it finally gets Bakubro laid you know it’s gotta be good—”
Shinsou is still staring at Izuku.
“Hey, Denki, hon. Be quiet.”
Kirishima says, “Oh. Shit.”
“Get the fuck out of my house!” Bakugou explodes, jerking up off the bed and taking all the blankets with him.
Kaminari looks at Izuku’s face, and then into his lap, and his eyes go so wide, Izuku’s brain finally starts working again and he remembers to cover himself up.
“Oh my god, how are you walking.”
“Get out!” Bakugou bellows, holding out his hands now and blasting a surge of fire at all three of them.
Izuku lets Bakugou chase them away, sort of feels like his head might be ringing.
“—know what the fuck you think you’re doing here—”
“You were fucked up last night, B!” Kirishima shouts back. “We wanted to make sure you got home okay—”
“You didn’t answer your phone—” Shinsou adds.
“Todoroki said he hadn’t heard from Midoriya—” Kaminari inserts.
“We were afraid something—”
“I don’t care, get out you nosey fucking extras!”
Bakugou slams his door and locks it, one hand holding the blankets around his waist. Izuku tugs on his boxers and goes to sit on the stairs. He’s afraid to think. He’s afraid to look at Bakugou. He’s afraid to remember.
Izuku wets his very dry mouth and says, “You. You were a virgin?”
“Bite me,” Bakugou hisses back.
“You should have told me,” Izuku whispers, shock and blatant terror obvious in his voice. “Kacchan, you should have told me.”
“Fuck off,” Bakugou says stubbornly. He struggles to his feet, and Izuku can see a tremble in his knees, can see that he looks tired and wrung out. Izuku comes off the stairs and Bakugou freezes, watching him like he might be a wild animal that’ll pounce at any second.
Bakugou breathes out very hard when Izuku lays his fingers against the bruise on his cheek.
“Kacchan.”
“Don’t need you worrying about me,” Bakugou tries, but there’s a strange tremble in his voice that Izuku has never heard before.
Izuku feels like a fool. Bakugou hadn’t had any condoms in his night stand, not that Izuku had really been thinking with all his faculties last night. He’d kissed clumsy and sweet and Izuku had just thought they were both stoned, not that Bakugou could possibly be a virgin.
Izuku wordlessly sweeps Bakugou up, blankets and all, and makes him curse like a sailor.
“Put me down, fucker, what the fuck do you think you’re doing—”
Izuku shuts him up with a kiss that makes him groan quietly against Izuku’s lips.
“If you let me,” Izuku tells him, swinging around and moving back toward the stairs, “I think I’m gonna suck your cock as long as you want. Then I’m gonna clean up your kitchen and make us food, then I’m gonna eat your ass until you beg me to fuck you again, how’s that sound?”
Bakugou stares at him, wide eyed and obviously shocked.
Izuku adds, “Or you can fuck me if you want, I bet you’ll be really good at it.”
Bakugou blinks very slowly, and Izuku pauses in front of his bed, looking down at him.
“Yeah, yeah, okay, that sounds. Great.”
Izuku grins at him. “Good.”