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Someone must have told him.
Ren isn’t exactly subtle about his crush on his classmate, but he likes to think he’s not particularly obvious either. He doesn’t blush (that hard) around him much anymore, and he can get through a good amount of conversation with him without fumbling with his words and getting distracted (like he used to do, man, that was embarrassing...) Bakugou never acts like he knows. He talks to him like he talks to all the others, looks him in the eyes like he looks at everyone else, treating him with the same (rather violent) indifference he gives any other person he meets.
Today is so different. Today Bakugou is sharp and he’s fierce, snapping his name out, smirking at the flinch and subsequent flush that follows. Between training sessions he brushes against him, his hand lingering on his body for a moment longer than it should without any sort of intention behind it.
And when he asks him to meet him in the hall just after classes, there’s something in his eyes that he doesn’t recognize, sparkling like fireworks going off as their gazes slowly meet.
He can’t help but be excited. When it’s time, he rushes through the school, sneaking past security and tiptoing to where they’d agreed, delight soaring through him as he realizes that Bakugou’s already there, waiting for him.
“Hey, Bakugou-kun,” Ren greets. There’s a smile on his face that’s only slightly nervous, mostly curious on what this could possibly be about.
Of course, there’s a silly hope in his head that it’s about that. That he not only knows, but reciprocates, and that, starting today, the two of them can be an actual... couple. Oh, it makes his heart leap just to think about it...!
It’s so silly that he finds himself warming just at the thought again. But the way Bakugou looks at him, his eyes lighting up at the sight of him as his cheeks turn pink-
Oh God.
It might actually be happening.
Ren’s eyes widen slightly as Bakugou starts to smirk at him.
“So it’s true,” he huffs with a sneer.
Ren blinks once.
“What’s tru--”
And suddenly he’s kissing him. He’s kissing him, and for a split second, for half of a moment, it’s almost like a dream come true.
He actually likes him back. He actually wants him!
Then, he keeps going, and he... realizes.
In an instant, a year’s worth of fleeting romantic fantasies shatter in front of his eyes. There goes the soft, breathy chuckle, the quirk of a smile halfway through kisses. Bakugou doesn’t cup his cheek and tilt his head up and watch him with all the world’s adoration pooling into his eyes (and he’s so stupid, so stupid for actually imagining, actually hoping he would). No, instead, the second their mouths meet, Bakugou forces his further open, biting at his lips, practically gnashing them to bits with his teeth before his tongue shoves so far down his throat Ren finds himself gagging within seconds. He pulls away to cough, and suddenly Bakugou is that much closer, glaring and angry, yanking him closer for more.
An uneasy panic grips at his heart. Why does he seem angry? Why is this happening?
Ren pulls away again, his eyes wide and a frantic pattering filling his chest, like a trapped bird frantically beating its wings against his rib cage.
“Um. What?”
He tries to laugh. “Wait...”
Bakugou puts his hand to the back of his head, his fingers forming a knot around his hair, and he yanks him forward. He kisses him, again, hard and violent enough to make Ren want to scream.
He pushes him off and Bakugou growls at him like some sort of animal.
“Oi, what gives with you?”
“I just...”
He runs his tongue over dry lips before immediately regretting the action, finding them already slick with his crush’s spit. A shudder lances up his spine, and he takes a step back, finding nothing but the cold and immotile wall behind him. Carefully, he holds his hands up, nervous and trying to maintain the distance between them. “This doesn’t feel right...”
“What, so are you sayin’ you don’t like me?” Bakugou challenges, head tilting and nostrils flaring with instant anger.
“... No, that’s not what I’m saying at all,” Ren whispers, forcing his eyes to remain on his face, rather than down the hall. The air feels frigid, cold, the space far too open, itching with the potential gazes that could be aiming their way right now. “... Can’t we take this slow? And maybe we should- um, what if someone sees us, I don’t want to get us in troubl--”
His mouth assaults his again, and his eyes widen, because that’s what it is. An assault, an attack, Bakugou all but drawing blood through his kisses, dominating him utterly without a care for him.
He doesn’t care.
It’s like a weight suddenly drops into his stomach, he’s not any sort of object of his affection, he’s just... an object. Somethihng to crush under his unforgiving body.
Bakugou presses him into the wall. His hands start to move suddenly, like he’s just remembered the weapons they are, and suddenly he’s grabbing at him, groping him, touching him where he’s never been touched before. His hands squeeze tight, bruises blooming with every grasp, making him gasp and squeak and writhe against the plaster.
“W-wai...”
His pleas drown between their lips, frothing between the spit that threatens to spill from the corner of his mouth as Bakugou’s tongue fills the space again, plunging deep, battering away every attempt to speak. He feels his fingers digging into his side, clawing upwards, grabbing hold of his chest--
He makes a strangled sound of dismay. Not there, he doesn’t want to be touched there, he’s never really hid the truth about himself but suddenly he can’t take the thought of Bakugou focusing his attention on... that.
It’s been a long time since Ren’s felt... uncomfortable in his body like this. All of a sudden he’s far too aware of what’s under his clothes. The scars, the dip of his waist, the curves, the hole between his legs. He feels sick.
How does he stop this? Every part of him shakes. Something in the back of his head screams for his quirk, every cell itching to transform. He could attack him right back, form powerful jaws, claws, he could form wings and fly away from this, keep flying until he dives into the sun and lets that ball of flame destroy him and any memory of this away for good.
But he can’t. He can’t force himself to fight back. He can’t make himself shapeshift. He can barely force himself to move.
Something in him is shutting down and it’s pathetic. He’s supposed to be training to be a hero and he’s been defeated so easily. Hate burbles up in the back of his throat. He’s sick. He feels so sick.
Bakugou suddenly rips his mouth away. It isn’t until then until Ren realizes how little he’s been able to breathe, and he falls into a few panicked sputters, gulping down air fast as another low growl utters from Bakugou’s throat.
“C’mere,” Bakugou hisses suddenly, tugging him by the collar of his shirt fast. He drags him sideways a few steps, yanking open the door into the close-by gymnasium before he shoves him inside, quick to let the door click shut besides them.
“W-what--”
His hand moves from his collar to his mouth, clamping over it. Ren only has the time to widen his eyes before he quickly realizes why:
The drone of their teacher’s voice appears before them on the other side of the door, quickly followed by a shadow crossing past. Bakugou grimaces, jaw clenching and his grip on him tightening all the more as Aizawa’s voice only lingers, caught in a slow, insistent conversation with someone.
They’re just behind the door. Ren can’t help but let out a soft whimper at the thought.
“Shut up,” Bakugou hisses sharply as he squirms in dismay, thoughts rearing up with a fresh bolt of panic.
He could call for someone. He could try and get some sort of help. Aizawa’s name burns at the tip of his tongue, he could scream, he could cry out to him, be saved from this, the helplessness inside him boiling in his stomach, begging him to do something. He almost does. He almost fucking does.
Then, there’s a loud, distant simmer. A silent threat in the form of smoke snaking up from under Bakugou’s palm as he holds him ever tighter against his body.
The fire in his gut goes out, blood going cold as he feels the violent heat against his skin.
“I said shut up,” Bakugou growls.
His terrified apology leaves him in the form of a stuttered gasp of air, smothered away by his press of his palm. He's still apologizing even as that heat tapers away, leaving nothing but a threatening hum of angry warmth.
Another few long seconds of silence stretch on before the conversation on the other side of the wood quiets, and the shadows trails off, slow and casual footsteps fading off into the distance as the two that could have saved him leave for the night.
It takes another few moments for Bakugou to move.
Stupid, stubborn hope starts to cook up in those minutes: maybe Bakugou will realize what a mistake this all is, maybe he’ll calm down. Maybe the sudden appearance of their teacher will sober him, make him realize this isn’t worth his education, his career, it isn’t worth their friendship, it isn’t worth it.
Then Bakugou jerks him back and starts to drag him further into the room, and that hope suffocates to death inside of him for the last and final time.
As he’s pulled across the floor, Ren’s finally able to take in the rest of the dark room. The gymnasium floor of the training room stretches out around them, shiny and gently wet from a recent cleaning. They pass a familiar gouge in the floor, a few scorch marks pressed into the material where Bakugou had gone far too hard during training, refusing to hold back even through a classroom exercise. The sight of it, combined with the lingering, chemical smell of smoke fading from Bakugou’s palm, settles nauseatingly in the pit of his stomach.
This is going to hurt. He knows it’s going to hurt so badly, when Bakugou has him where he wants him.
After breezing through the rest of the room, Bakugou grabs hold of a side door, shoving it open with one hand and pushing Ren inside. Inside is a small closet storage area, crammed full with exercise equipment: mats, weights, the machines and props they spend their daily lives training on.
He slams the door shut with a growl before shoving Ren to the ground.
“Are you fucking stupid?! You just want everyone to find out about this, don’t you?”
“I--”
Ren tries to find the words, faltering and stumbling and tripping on his tongue, but Bakugou’s already grabbing him, yanking him up onto his feet again as his eyes flash with rage.
“I told you to keep your fucking mouth shut, didn’t I?!”
“I’m--”
He doesn’t give him a chance to speak. Instead, he just punches him, hard, and Ren can barely let out a gasp before he falls to the floor again in a heap, brain matter crashing around his skull as the sharp pain of it rattles through his core.
He can’t believe he just hit him.
And he can’t believe he’s just taking it.
They’ve sparred in class before, it’s not like he’s unfamiliar with Bakugou’s fists. They’ve fought plenty, he’s always been able to hold his own. He’s always been able to fight back.
Shame floods him, and he can’t help but snivel out like a child, snot dribbling from his nose as he curls up into a small ball.
Bakugou snorts. “Pathetic,” he mutters, voicing the thoughts in his head before he can even finish thinking them. “What, you think crying about it will make me feel sorry for you? You make me sick.”
He crouches in front of him, rapping his knuckles against the top of his head.
“And here I thought I’d do you a favor, since you can’t seem to stop pussyfooting around me. Can’t even act like a fucking man about this. Waste of fucking space. Do you even realize how lucky you are?”
He pauses, and when Ren fails to answer outside of another weak sob, he scoffs. “Well?! Nothing to say for yourself?”
Ren only shakes his head.
Bakugou scoffs. “Pathetic.”
He waits a beat before leaning in closer, holding tight to his hair as he grinds him further into the ground. “Let me tell you somethin’, Nekozawa. Way I was raised, when someone fucked up, they paid for it in blood. There was no sittin’ around and cryin’ about it, we made sure that shit wouldn’t happen again. Think somethin’ like that would do you some good.”
Ren shudders at the implications.
“So what’s it gonna be?” Bakugou spits as he looms over him, raising a hand as it spatters angry sparks into the air. “You gonna be a man and face me? Finish what you fucking started? Or should I punish you like you deserve to be punished?”
Like he deserves...?
Ren stands up, sniffling. His face is blotched and bruising, his cheek inflamed into a fiery red. It aches when he sets his jaw in bleak determination, but then he nods quietly, forcing the tears that try their best to build up away.
It’s misguided, sure, but he isn’t going to take a beating on top of what Bakugou’s already decided to force onto him.
Bakugou sneers. “That’s what I thought.”
He shoves him back violently, hands beating against his chest like he’s trying to start another fight.
“I knew you wouldn’t fucking disappoint me.”
He shoves him again, and this time Ren nearly crashes into something hard, losing his balance with a soft yelp. The grin on Bakugou’s face only grows, and then he’s grabbing at him again, his rough hands manhandling him to turn over and bend over something wooden. Vaguely, in the swirl of motion around him, he acknowledges the vaulting horse below him - and then Bakugou’s shoving his pants down to his ankles and all thoughts cease as he freezes up.
“Ahh-”
His breath catches in his lungs, trying to fight the immediate plea he wants to scream out. He’s agreed to this now, sold his soul away to avoid more pain. He can’t back out now without punishment, but he-
He can’t. He doesn’t want this, he doesn’t!
“That’s a good boy,” Bakugou mocks, giving his ass a gentle pat.
Ren shivers, unable to fight the disturbing violation of being exposed. He tries to squeeze his legs together, but there’s no use. Bakugou keeps touching him, grabbing his ass, spreading him open. He shudders as he listens to him drawing down his zipper, squirming to distract himself from the way of his hole twitches as the cold, clammy air breezes past it.
This is really happening. He can’t do a thing to stop it.
A low groan of satisfaction leaves Bakugou before he’s even starting to press his body against him. There’s a brief, brief sound of skin moving against skin, and then he’s nestling closer, a low chuckle leaving his throat as he starts to grind against him.
“Should I fuck you here...?” His cock nudges against his asshole, firm and sudden, and a cruel laugh leaves him as Ren twitches and clenches up again, terrified.
“Or here...?”
Another nudge, and this time he presses against his folds, the head of his cock nestling firmly against his cunt. Ren gasps, his whole body going tense. His heart races, faster and faster like it’s trying to burst before he actually does it.
“Bakugou...?!”
“You’re already wet,” he points out cruelly. “Don’t start acting like you don’t want it.”
He thrusts forward and a sharp squeak leaves Ren. It’s almost a joke, the blunt pressure that suddenly knocks into him like another punch, his insides failing to concede despite how forceful he’s being. He’s not ready. His body is screaming it.
Bakugou keeps trying to force himself in anyway.
He jerks his hips and the block under him drags forward with a screech. Another thrust, another jerk forward against the floor, the wood wobbling, loud underneath their bodies. It digs under his gut, the pad of it failing to keep the woord from cutting into him, pressing into the lower part of his ribcage, a dull pain that contrasts with the rough burn that sears through him, growing harsher and harsher, hotter and hotter as his cock presses inside.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” Bakugou growls under his breath. “Tell me you were a virgin. Tell me you were saving yourself for me.”
The tears start to freshly form again, then, because he was. Not in so many words, not necessarily on purpose, but--
Bakugou tries to thrust again, and his cock drives into him another few inches, scraping through him and making him let out a shout. Sensation spirals through him. He’s too big. He’s too deep. He’s not even half inside him yet. He feels like he's ripping apart. He can’t take much more of this, he’s breaking, he’s breaking, he’s breaking.
“Ren,” Bakugou snaps with a slam of his hips. “Tell me.”
“I... I wanted you to be my first,” he hiccups, the words dripping out of him like drool, pained babbling that’s interrupted as Bakugou refuses to stop moving, “and oh- oh my god, ah...”
It hurts.
“Ahh--”
Another slam, and suddenly Bakugou’s settling into him, bottoming out with a slow, commanding grind against him. “Yeah...” he groans, experimentally rocking his hips, making Ren whimper as his cock carves in, molding his guts to his length. “Fuck yeah. Now that’s almost worth the wait...”
He doesn’t even wait another second before beginning to fuck him in earnest. Ren cries out at the feeling, moans punched out of him as Bakugou starts out a fast, brutal pace, bashing into his insides as mercilessly as he’s beaten into any villain he’s come across. The pain is constant, an awful cramping in his stomach as he’s rammed into again and again, tears forcing their way down his cheeks as he's pummelled into.
It only gets worse as he keeps going. Stifling the sounds coming out of him was already impossible, but his moans start to turn into choked cries, higher and higher in pitch until every other thrust forces his voice to crack and squeak.
“Gonna scream for me?” Bakugou pants. Every time he holds back a cry, he only rams into him harder, faster, until Ren’s eyes are rolling up, tongue lolling, mind breaking apart until the only thing he can register is the newest dose of misery. It hurts so badly he can hardly comprehend what life was like before this never-ending pain. “Yeah, take it, I know you love it. Clenching around me like that, fuck.”
He bends over his body, hammering into him endlessly. “Yeah,” he keeps saying. “Yeah. Yeah. Fucking take it, you fucking slut.”
The insults tear at him where his cock physically can’t, lighting his soul on fire. He doesn’t think he can cry anymore, but he wants to. He wants to get away from this so badly. This is never what he wanted, what has he ever done to imply- to make him think--
Ren claws at the wood under him until he can feel his nails starting to splinter, blood leaking from his fingers and dripping down and down towards the floor. It feels like hours of this. It feels like it’s never going to end.
But then Bakugou starts to move even faster, his hips starting to jerk in a stuttering, jagged beat, and Ren feels himself flinching again, choking up anew at what he knows is about to happen.
“Bakugou,” he whimpers out fast. “Just- don’t cum inside me. Please.”
“Haah?” he breathes in reply. “Are you fucking serious?”
Ren lets out a breath, trying to stay calm, but panic shreds what little dignity inside him apart. It’s like waking up in a nightmare. He knows the likelihood that it would happen is low, but he imagines it. And that brings him enough shame to want to bury himself in the ground, right there and then. He can't. He'd rather die.
“Please.”
“Y’think you can tell me what to do?” Bakugou snaps, his fingers digging sharply into his sides. “You’re the bitch here, you’re mine, you think you can order me around like this?! Who the fuck do you think you are, Nekozawa?”
“Bakugou,” he finds himself whimpering again. His anger is terrifying. “I just--”
“Shut up!” he yells and suddenly, suddenly there’s an awful bang.
Ren bites down on his tongue to keep from screaming. The sharp tang of blood floods his mouth, drowning out the howl of agony he fights with all his might to keep in. The stench of burning flesh cloaks his senses, thick and putrefying, making him want to gag, almost, almost distracting him from the torture of suddenly and violently being seared into. Explosions burst wildly from his palms, his nails only digging in to lock the blows against his body as they eat at him, again, again, again, bludgeoning with a bright agony that lances through him, again, again.
“Fuck!” Bakugou swears. He sounds rabid. Mad and manic and out of control. His nails dig into the burns on his hips, making more searing blood well from the oozing wounds. He doesn’t stop fucking him for a second. He only goes harder, faster, panting and gasping like he can't get enough. “Fuck. Fuck!”
One last violent thrust, hard enough to make him retch, and then he can feel Bakugou shudder with a low groan, humping against him a few more times before he presses in deep.
He can feel his cock throbbing inside him as he holds him tight to his body, slowly pumping him full with a few heavy throbs. The tears flow down their cheeks easily now. Bakugou pants, and it’s the only sound he can make out in the dark room over the faint sizzling of broiling flesh, his own breath caught shakily in the rotting pit of his chest as everything that’s just transpired ripples around him.
Slowly, Bakugou draws back. The wet slide of his cock leaving his body leaves him with a strange and hollow agony, a feeling of griminess rushing forward to fill the gaping, dripping void he’d left inside of him. Another sob leaves him. The vaulting horse creaks under his shifting weight, shuddering once like it wants to collapse under him.
The air aches with silence before the soft rustle of Bakugou’s belt interrupts it.
“Better remember,” he growls under his breath. “Don’t you dare try and fucking tell anybody about this. Y’hear me?”
Ren can’t help but continue to cry. His hands come up to cover his mouth, stifling hiccuping sobs.
Bakugou slaps him right over the burning mark on his hip and the pain of it nearly makes Ren pass out right there, a strangled yelp choking and dying in the back of his throat as he jerks, losing his balance and writhing as he crumples to the floor.
“I asked if you heard me,” Bakugou snarls.
“Yes,” Ren whimpers out quickly. “Yes, yes, I won’t tell anyone, I promise. Bakugou...”
Bakugou doesn’t look at him as he trudges forward, his hands sinking deep into his pockets again now that he’s fixed himself up. It isn’t until he reaches the door that he glances back, his red eyes piercing, bright and strangely demonic, sparkling with something almost bitter, something almost hateful.
It hits him like acid in the wound.
Everything’s ruined.
Bakugou leaves, and the door slams shut behind him.
It’s been a few hours since he’s been left alone.
Moving takes ages. He has to muster the will to move from the floor first, and then the strength. Every muscle in his body aches, his lower half burning, a screaming pain between his legs. He can feel the drip of fluids dribbling down, pooling on the mats below him. He can feel them drying. He doesn’t do a thing to stop it.
He starts to wonder what it would be like to just die. To not have to deal with the weight of this for the rest of his life. To not have to look at Bakugou’s face again and think about what he did.
Ren sits up. He cleans their filth from the mats off slowly, rubbing at the material until it stinks so strongly of bleach that he feels dizzy. Unconsciousness feels so good. A void to sink into and hide away in forever.
He wants to go home. Lay down in a soft bed under the covers. Sink into darkness. Stay within it, safe and comfortable. He wants to go to sleep for a long, long time.
It’s a long way back.
The shame starts to set in as he limps through the hallways. He passes corners remembering the mirth in which he passed them earlier, glancing forlornly at security cameras that might have caught his earlier trek. Such a fucking idiot. Why did he ever think it could go well?
But how was he supposed to know? It’s not like he could delude himself into thinking that Bakugou was particularly kind. But this, something like this... it was villainous, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it evil? Isn’t this everything they were supposed to swear against, spend the rest of their lives trying to fight down?
His thoughts are a mess.
It’s agonizing, prying his clothes away. It feels like flaying away skin. After looking down at the wounds, he quickly sees why. It’s a mess of blood and quietly bubbling goo, ruined flesh in the shape of Bakugou’s hands.
Seeing them, the stretch of his fingers over the bones of his ribs, the permanent fucking mark Bakugou has left... He doesn’t think he can break again, but the universe seems determined to prove him wrong at every turn.
Ren sobs. He tries his best to clean the wound, his hands shaking violently with every touch. It’s a shoddy attempt at first aid, his shirt shoved into his mouth to muffle the sound as he pours antiseptic on the first rag he can find. Fresh blood coats his fingers as he presses it firmly against the woumb. Tears rush into his eyes as he lets out a muffled cry, his knees buckling under him as the pain overwhelms him.
It doesn’t matter how many times he empties out the bathtub and fills it again. The water remains tinged with a dingy red, dirtied by his damaged body.
After his third try he gives him, avoiding the sight of his nudity. He doesn’t understand how he’s ever supposed to look at himself again. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to face his class.
And he has to see Bakugou the next day. Have his beautiful, hateful eyes on him, see his smirk, watch him move, listen to his voice. Just thinking about it has him shuddering, curlign up, trembling like he's still on top of him, like he still has him growling against his ear, his hips pumping, his insides being carved apart.
Ren digs in his nails as he hugs himself. He sinks them in deep, talons against the burning wounds, and forces himself deeper into the water, letting it smother away his next pathetic bout of cries.
"Nekozawa," Aizawa lazily drawls out. "Something's up with you."
Ren goes pale. Their teaches doesn't even give him the decency of waiting after class to confront him. Around him, his classmates spar, throwing themselves excitedly at each other as they fight. Bakugou's shouts echo around the room, more ferocious than any of the others, and Ren fights to keep from reacting to it, steeling his expression as his stomach twists and writhes.
"It's nothing," he replies.
"Are you sure?" Aizawa continues to pry. "Your performance is really suffering. And it's been suffering for a while now. If it keeps going like this..." He frowns, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. "I just need to know if there's anything we need to be working on. Together."
Ren stares at him. He thinks about his voice on the other side of the door. Bakugou's breath in his ear, his hand against his mouth, his body against his, and Aizawa, so far away, so close. He imagines what would have happened if he'd just ignored Bakugou's threats and called out to him. Even if Bakugou had killed him as punishment, it was better than living like this, wasn't it...?
And what if he told him now? Could he?
There's a loud, sudden bang that makes him flinch. Ren can't help but turn his eyes, seeing Bakugou staring right at him, his eyes flashing, teeth bared in an ugly scowl. He stands above Kaminari, the collar of his shirt bunched in his grip, his hand sparking with all too familiar aggression.
"Nekozawa?"
"... I promise, I'm okay," Ren mutters as he turns back to him. "I've... had some bad news at home, but it's being settled. I'm sorry it got in the way."
"Fine," Aizawa reluctantly replies, grimacing as he swallows his lie down. "Take it easy, then. But I want to see improvement soon, or we're going to have to talk again."
"Of course, sir." Ren offers a low bow, ignoring the screaming of his sides as his wounds flare with fresh pain, the stifled cries of his broken soul as he ignores its desperate pleas for help. "I won't let you down."