Archive of Our Own ^beta

Hitoshi flipped the collar of their denim jacket up before exiting the train station. They doubted that even the faux fur lining would do much against the rain, but at least the most recent layer of glue seemed to be keeping the soles of their boots together. By the time Hitoshi got to Izuku’s apartment building, they could begin to feel the damp rain seep into their tee shirt and they were regretting leaving their warm cocoon of blankets. When they shouldered their way into the posh lobby, their boots made an awful squeaking across the marble floor. Hitoshi was glad Uraraka had forwarded them the QR code for elevator access, they didn’t think they could handle making eye contact with the concierge. The elevator ride was smooth and quicker than expected since it had to rise to 60-odd floors.

The elevator opened to a long hallway with one door at the end. It would look almost menacing if there wasn’t an All Might doormat on the ground and a balloon shaped like a bomb tied to the door handle. Hitoshi took a deep breath before knocking, taking in the last moments of quiet they would be afforded for the next few hours. Being admitted to Class 2-B had meant that Hitoshi hadn’t had a ton of exposure to the circus that was all of Class A, but they weren’t going to miss the opportunity to ogle the guest of honor and catch up on all the latest gossip.

The door swung open and Hitoshi was greeted by an entirely too wide smile and strong arms picking them up into a crushing hug. 

“Good to see you Hitoshi, it’s been too long! Come on in and get some food! Do you want a towel? You’re soaked!” Izuku’s mouth was running a mile a minute per usual. Hitoshi tried to pat Izuku’s shoulder in a futile attempt to be let down.

“Easy Big Boy, no need to get so excited. Just tell me where to hang my coat and I’ll be fine.”

Izuku showed Hitoshi the walk-in coat closet and ushered them towards the bathroom to dry off. The mascara and their clumsy attempt at eyeliner had been smudged by the rain but thankfully it looked more artful than drowned rat chic. HRT had made their face sharpen and now their cheekbones looked like they could cut glass, though it hadn’t made anything more than a wispy purple mustache grow across their plush upper lip. They ruffled their hair into some kind of upwards shape, squared their shoulders, and made sure the baggy tie-dyed cat shirt hung loose enough it laid flat.

Exiting the washroom, their purple eyes surveyed the luxurious apartment the current number 1 hero enjoyed with his fiance. Ochako was a lucky lady indeed, even if she was currently having to fend off Iida from touching her ever-growing belly. Hitoshi couldn’t remember when the baby was due but was still in awe that anyone they knew would willingly procreate. Hitoshi managed to shoulder his way to the banquet table through a pack of sidekicks who looked at the sea of pro heroes with obvious admiration and hints of envy.

Hitoshi piled up a plate with finger sandwiches and some fancy-looking deviled eggs. Izuku had clearly overpaid some caterer to deliver a mountain of food and then buzz off. Hitoshi had already scouted everyone in attendance and didn’t see any staff in black polyester hovering around. Hitoshi tried to soothe their own nerves, but they felt incredibly underdressed even in their nicest jeggings. The sick tie dye cat shirt was one of their favorites, plus it was even clean! But as Hitoshi looked around at all the people in designer suits and name-brand fashions, they could feel the sweat collect in the thick band of their sports bra as their nerves got even more frayed.

It seemed like there was an attempt to keep the guest list to former UA students but clearly someone and then another someone asked to bring their partners, sidekicks, and important business people packed into the penthouse. The cream of the crop of hero society had gathered to celebrate the return of the great Bakugou Katsuki from his many years of working abroad.

Across the room they spotted that familiar tuft of blond hair. Hitoshi started making their way over to where Bakugou and his whole squad stood, Sero and Mina clearly trying to get a rise out of the man. The two fully adult pros seemed to have set on a strategy of trying to tickle Bakugou while making some comments that Hitoshi couldn’t quite hear. The duo had clearly just barely managed to succeed if Bakugou’s rough bark of “die” was anything to go by. Hitoshi just managed to catch Kirishima saying, “some things never change," before Denki grabbed them by the arm to steal them into a corner. They could have sworn they heard Bakugou mutter something like, “not like you’d notice anyway,” before the group was obscured by a flock of sidekicks clearly trying not to freak out.

Denki was clearly already drunk, running a flirty finger up Hitoshi’s arm as he tried to wheedle some details about their underground work. Hitoshi had come prepared with some passable tid-bits in hopes of getting some juicy gossip. Unfortunately, the fact that Kirishima was once again fucking his way through his sidekicks and Todoroki somehow convincing Momo to let him get another cat was old news.

Sooner than they’d hoped, Hitoshi got overwhelmed and managed to excuse themselves to flee to the balcony pulling out their smokes and shitty lighter. After several frustrating attempts at getting their shitty lighter working they heard a deep chuckle from the shadows. 

“You need some help there Mindfuck, or whatever you’re going by these days?”

“That’s rich coming from you, Dynamite Dude.” Hitoshi was glad they managed to get something intelligible out before they got a good look at the guest of honor. Time abroad had been very kind to Bakugou Katsuki. He had grown at least a foot, and he filled out his white tee obscenely, arms corded with muscles and covered in scars. Even his denim-clad thighs seemed bulkier than he remembered. What most arrested Hitsohi’s attention was the beautiful gold-rimmed eyeglasses. The warm light from the apartment made the metal glow like a halo around his crimson eyes.

They almost got lost in those red eyes until Bakugou brought a hand up to thier mouth and lit the cigarette hanging from his pink lips with his own fucking quirk. Hitoshi stood in awe of the man’s control, temporarily frozen by heat flushing throughout their body. The finesse it took to do a single spark in one place was so beyond what Hitoshi remembered Bakugou being capable of at UA, it almost took their breath away.

He leaned in closer and Hitoshi could smell the blend of his citrusy cologne, cigarette smoke, and burnt sugar waft off him. Hitoshi managed to get their one working brain cell in gear to bring the cigarette up to their lips in time to meet the burning end of Bakugou’s. A deep inhale brought the red ember from one cigarette to another as Hitoshi drew a hit of harsh smoke into his lungs. The burst of nicotine kick-started his brain even as the smoke cut like a knife across his throat.

Bakugou leaned against the iron of the railing, a picture of ease. “You hiding from all the extras, too?”

“I think this might be the first time you’ve used that term that I’d agree with you. Who are all those people?” Hitoshi mirrored his lean, the chill of the metal against their bare arms making their skin pebble.

“Deku promised me a small party with mostly UA folks, but I don’t know most of the people in that room.” Bakugou’s huff of amusement carried a cloud of smoke, and Hitoshi wanted to drink it all in, straight from his mouth.

“Hell I don’t recognize most of those folks and I’ve been in Japan this whole time. Isn’t this supposed to be your party?” Hitoshi gave up on trying to be subtle about his staring and just turned to take the whole of Bakugou’s pretty face.

“You’d fucking think?” Bakugou huffed out, leaning even harder into the railing. “Can you believe that one of the idiots tried to convince me to let the press in, treat it like a fucking socialite debut.” The distaste dripped from his lips, and Hitoshi wondered if that was the only stupid idea he’d shot down.

“Aww Bakugou, if you wanted to be a debutant, you could have just said so. I bet you’d look real cute in a ball gown.” Hitoshi tried to let the smoke out slowly, hoping that their joke didn’t shatter whatever moment they were building with Bakugou.

“First off, I would look fucking stunning in a dress.” That cocky smirk danced across his face and Hitoshi tried not to blush as they rubbed their thighs together. “Second, I had forgotten what a fucking circus hero work is.” The look of sheer disbelief and outrage on his face would have been almost comical if Hitoshi wasn’t so enamored by the hints of golden stubble that softened the outline of his chin.

“Weren’t you overseas doing hero work? I thought the government rented you out like a library book or something.” Hitoshi tried to wrack their brains about what bits and pieces of gossip they had heard about the man’s time abroad, but there was remarkably little.

“Nah, I mostly worked with international NGOs doing a lot of busts and covert ops. Turns out being a walking bomb is useful for both storming drug dens and going undercover.” Bakugou took another hit of his cigarette, a confident smirk stretching his mouth in an appealing line. One would never guess that he failed Aizawa’s stealth class twice, but Bakugou didn’t need to know Hitoshi knew that.

“You went undercover? YOU?” Hitoshi didn’t even try to keep the disbelief out of their voice.

Bakugou chuckled. “Yeah, turns out villains all over the world find me an… attractive recruit. It’s amazing how many shady fucking doors open to idiots with anger issues. It’s going to be weird not being able to do that shit anymore.” The mirth stayed in the man’s eyes even as his mouth stretched in a tense line.

“Oh? What’s stopping you?” With another hit of smoke to their throat, Hitoshi wondered if Bakugou would actually tell them.

Bakugou leaned in conspiratorially, and his broad shoulder brushed against Hitoshi’s much slimmer frame, heat rolling off the man like the smoke he blew from his nose.

“If I tell you, I may have to kill you.” He made a gun shape with his fingers and fired it towards Hitoshi.

“Good, I await the sweet release of death.” Hitoshi tried to keep their face as flat as possible, enjoying the way Bakugou’s brow creased in concern before cottoning on to the joke.

“Deku’s opening an agency and he wanted me to come on as a partner.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah, the nerd’s finally ready to get out from under Endeavor’s thumb and branch out on his own. He said I would bring ‘valuable real world experience,’ like what does that even fucking mean when our whole class has been in the real fucking world for over a decade? He even filed the fucking paperwork to put me on the ranks so no more undercover work for me I guess. It fucking blows, but at least I’m gonna be able to explode more stuff now.”

Hitoshi managed to keep their body still even as their mind was reeling. This could be the biggest story of the month, if not the year, and Bakugou just dropped it into their ear like a penny in a pool.

“Should you be telling me this?”

“Eh, I figured a hero whose identity is so underground you can’t even google them can keep a fucking secret?”

“Aw, Bakugou, you looked me up, want to get a piece of this?” Hitoshi gestured towards their cat shirt and jeggings.

“Mmm, thought you’d be a good fit for a mission one time, but if I had seen a picture of you I would have tried a bit harder to make contact.” Bakugou’s eyes raked over their body with a hungry smile.

Histohi’s jaw dropped and their cigarette tumbled out of their mouth. With reflexes that seemed to defy logic Bakugou managed to catch it before it dropped. He placed the cigarette back in their mouth, rough fingers sweeping across their jaw to gently push it closed. The man’s broad hand slid beneath Hitoshi’s chin to tilt their head up. 

“Would you like that Mindfuck? Wanna make some contact?”

Hitoshi took a long drag of their cigarette, ‘til the ember was eating at the filter before spitting it out over the balcony and blowing all the smoke into the chilly wind. Any disaffection they were trying to show was nothing but a screen for the desperate hunger that was eating away at their core. They wanted this man to bend them over rail them ‘til they had to go to work.

“Sure do, especially if you don’t blow your load too quickly.”

The ugly cackle that ripped from Bakugou’s throat makes the cuteness of his scrunched little nose all the more devastating. He stubbed his cigarette out and tossed the butt into one of the nice pots holding a plant that had clearly seen better days. He glared at Hitoshi. 

“Better to make it Deku’s problem than to fucking litter.”

Hitoshi huffed. “How are you planning to make it through the sea of extras?” 

They couldn’t imagine leaving with Bakugou would be a low-profile kind of jaunt. Hitoshi had seen Izuku cry on Bakugou’s shoulder at least twice from pure joy that night alone.

“I’m not. I’m going to send a top operative to steal my leather jacket from the bougie fucking coat room and have him meet me downstairs ASAP.”

Hitoshi felt an uncomfortable itch at the pronoun that seemed to slip so easily from Bakugou’s lips, but the conspiratorial tone and wicked grin were too intoxicating to resist, and they thought they might follow any scheme Bakugou dared to cook up in he kept looking at Hitoshi like that.

“How will I know which jacket is yours? That second bedroom of a closet looked pretty full.”

Bakugou chortled. “It’s a brown bomber, going to be the only leather jacket that looks worn, but it should have a Deku agency business card in the inside pocket. Make your excuses and leave, I’ll get our ride.” Bakugou stretched up, a sliver of golden skin peeking out between his shirt and pants.

“Still not sure how you plan to make it out of here.” 

Bakugou grinned. He took off his glasses and handed them to Hitoshi.

“Just watch and learn, baby”

With a smirk that could fucking kill a man, he jumped over the balcony to dive headfirst toward the concrete. Hitoshi gripped the railing tight enough that they could hear their knuckles pop. Bakugou’s form was perfect and elegant even when careening down the side of a skyscraper. They watched in awe as Bakugou used his quirk in perfectly-timed intervals to slow his fall to land gracefully, feet first on the sidewalk.

Hitoshi could feel their jaw hanging open again. Even from the high balcony, they could see Bakugou salute them with a jaunty wave. They hoped the man could see the middle finger they threw over their shoulder as they tucked the glasses into their jeggings pocket and began to bob and weave their way through the mass of people, barely avoiding the attention of their friends.

When Hitoshi finally got to the coat closet, they saw what Bakugou meant. There were many leather jackets but they were all smooth, deep black or red, luxurious, clearly expensive. It made the worn-out brown leather bomber jacket stand out all the more. When Hitoshi picked it up they could smell the cologne Bakugou had been wearing mixed with the sweet smell of old sweat. Hitoshi couldn’t stop themselves from bringing the collar up to their face, a deep inhale bringing the mix of sugar, oranges, and smoke deep into their lungs. The leather felt buttery and well maintained, and Hitoshi wondered what else they’d find if they rifled through the pockets, but the image of Bakugou’s easy grin floated through their mind and they felt hungry for more.

Hitoshi bundled the jacket in their own raggedy denim one and made a beeline for the door, cheering themselves for a job well done when they managed to clear the door and finally breathed a little easier in the hall. Hitoshi wondered what it would have been like to leave at Bakugou’s side, but shrugged that thought off when they slipped through the door. They didn’t notice the green eyes that had followed them from the balcony to the door nor did they hear the words Izuku whispered to Uraraka, twin smiles gracing their faces.

In the quiet of the elevator, Hitoshi took out Bakugou’s glasses and admired the golden gleam. They wondered when he got the pair, if the boy they went to high school would show such a potential weakness so easily. They slip the glasses on, the world going soft around the edges. It felt almost too personal to see the gap between Bakugou’s vision and the world. Hitoshi exited the lift and thanks to the glasses, the frowning concierge and other bougie bitches passing through the marbled lobby were just fuzzy enough to blend in. The carousel door spun smoothly as Hitoshi pushed through the glass portal. In front of the doors, Hitoshi saw the hazy outline of Bakugou leaning against a car of some kind.

“Hey Handsome, ya need a ride?” 

Hitoshi smiled, the grin on Bakugou’s drawing him closer. The man leaned over them, an arm curling behind their back, drawing them flush.

“Yeah, I think I’d like one very much,” Hitoshi answered with their own grin as Bakugou opened the taxi and guided Hitoshi into the cab before demanding with that cocky smirk that Hitoshi render their address to the driver before both of them turn towards the other.

“Why are we going to my place again?

“Cause people are currently eating canapés on the couch I’m crashing on, so unless you’re a wild exhibitionist, your place by default has to be better.”

Hitoshi hummed, still puzzled over Bakugou’s insistence.“I mean, fair, but you’re crashing at Izuku’s? Don’t you have hotel money?” They weren’t sure if Bakugou would still want to fuck them after he saw the state of their apartment, but oh fucking well.

“Yeah, but I’m fucking tired of hotels. Been living outta them for too many years already. Plus, the nerd insisted.” The fond tone in his voice undercut the grimace Bakugou tried to wear.

“Mmm what, you got a personal vendetta against having a lease? I don’t blame you, renting is a fucking scam.”

“Nah, a home just hasn’t been a luxury I’ve had the chance to enjoy. I moved around a lot for work.” With how tired Bakugou sounded, Hitoshi wondered how much convincing Izuku really had to do to get Bakugou settled down back in Japan.

The two men enjoyed the silence through the car ride, hands sneaking together and whispered suggestions making them both flushed in the face.

Bakugou paid the fare and they started the long walk up Hitoshi’s apartment stairs. The dingy flickering lights cast the grey and yellowing vinyl in a sickly pallor and Hitoshi is reminded why they didn’t usually bring their hookups home. Alleyways and bar bathrooms are much less embarrassing.

As they pulled up to Hitoshi’s apartment they began to fumble with their keys, the clip too stuffed with keychains and charms to make finding one little band of metal easy.

Hitoshi struggled with the janky lock trying to get their worn-down key to push its way in. Bakugou pressed against their back, large hands resting on their thin hips, hungry fingers sneaking into their stretchy pockets. As they opened the door, Hitoshi tried to find a place of acceptance for what Bakugou was about to see.

“Jeez, Shinsou, you live like this?”

They tried to see their studio through new eyes. They could barely see the mattress, raw on the floor behind the mountain of take-out containers, old and current work files, found books and a pile of clothes that they couldn’t be sure were clean or dirty. They shrugged off their boots and flicked on the light, a lonely light bulb hanging from the ceiling casting a warm parlor over their sea of filth. They had moved into the shit hole three days after graduation and hadn’t seen a reason to leave.

“Are you here to fuck or critique my décor? Be thankful I even have a bed now. Real step up from a sleeping bag, let me tell you.”

Bakugou cackled as he kicked the door closed and threw all six locks shut before whirling around and picking Hitoshi up, hungrily licking into their mouth. They wrapped their legs around Bakugou’s thick waist and tried not to be ashamed of the way Bakugou stumbled over piles of trash. He threw Hitoshi down on the bed. Their breath caught in their throat as their back pressed against their pile of pillows. Bakugou looked like some kind of god towering over them, all gold skin and corded muscles flexing under his tight white tee. The man hooked his fingers under the band of their leggings and panties to drag them down Hitoshi’s long legs. They could tell the minute that Bakugou saw what was between their legs that it wasn’t what the other man expected. Bakugou went stock still, every muscle vibrating with a weird intensity.

“Why are you so surprised Bakugou? Didn’t you hear all the rumors?” Hitoshi tried to smirk, tried to keep the sudden rush of nerves out of their voice.

“I don’t pay the useless chatter of extras any mind. They also said you’d never be a hero and look at you now.” Bakugou was certainly looking, piercing red eyes raking over Hitoshi’s body. They could feel their face flush and their pussy get slowly wetter under Bakugou’s rapt attention.

Hitoshi pulled the hem of their shirt down, desperate to hide from his eyes. Their legs folded upwards and they tried to close their thighs, anything to shelter themselves from what would most probably be swift rejection.

“If that’s going to be such a problem asshole you can fucking leave.” They tried for disaffected but missed the mark by a mile, voice cracking and breathy. Hitoshi stared resolutely at the ceiling, determined to at least pretend like they won’t check out Bakugou’s ass when he inevitably turns to leave.

Something white flashed in their periphery and they turned their head to be greeted with the broad expanse of Bakugou’s muscular chest, his shirt tossed off somewhere in the depths of Hitoshi’s sea of garbage.

“Now why would I do something as stupid as that? You look good enough to eat, and I intend to get a taste of you.” Bakugou seemed to bounce back at breakneck speed, his hands soothingly stroking up Hitoshi’s legs before parting them. Bakugou doesn’t stop looking, doesn’t miss the way Hitoshi hungrily took in the decade of difference between the student he used to be and the pro hero he was now.

Bakugou smirked at the obviousness of their ogling. “Tell me what you like, and what shit’s off-limits,” he gestured towards Hitoshi’s pussy, “and how you want me to refer to your business.” A single finger slid up Hitoshi’s thigh as they shivered in delight.

“Okay, I cannot BELEIVE you just referred to any part of my body as my ‘business’ but I can give you a fucking tour I guess.” Hitoshi could feel something warm crawl up their throat as they leaned back against their pillows and drew their knees up towards their head.

They didn’t miss the way Bakugou’s pupils dilated as their hand slapped their pussy lips,  the feeling of their slick hitting their palm. They parted their lower lips and tried not to feel embarrassed, knowing that their hole was clenching around nothing and that Bakugou could see everything.

“This is my hole, you can call it a cunt or a pussy but no medical terms.” They drag their fingers through their dripping folds to take their pink little numb between their thumb and pointer finger. “This is my dick or cock. You can suck it, lick, hell even bite it, but the tip is very sensitive so if you're mean to it I may kick you in the face.” 

A strange sense of command flowed through Hitoshi. They felt powerful with Bakugou crouching like an animal between their legs, almost panting with an excited gleam in his eyes. Hitoshi felt like if they said the word, Bakugou would bark like a dog. The man was focused solely on them and that focus felt heavy and delicious, a sensation that Hitoshi wasn’t used to but found that they were growing to like it.

Bakugou’s rough hands slip under their shirt, his thumbs toying with the frayed hem.

“I want to see all of you, all that you’ll let me.” Bakguou leans down to press a kiss to the crease of their hip. Red eyes seek out their own, and Hitoshi can only nod as Bakugou crawls up towards them and lifts their shirt off and up over their arms, dropping it next to them on the bed.

Hitoshi hooked their thumbs under the band of their compression bra and pulled it up over their head. The heady sense of power kept them floating in a state of strange bliss, knowing that Bakugou would only take what he was given, even if Hitoshi wanted to give him everything. They brought their hands to cup their chest. 

“These are my pecs or tits, no words starting with b though, and you can do whatever you want to them.”

“Can I fuck them till I cum on your face?” 

Hitoshi shivered and humed out a desperate agreement. Bakugou smirked, bringing a finger to trace the black metal bars in their nipples.

“Those are real sensitive, be nice to them,” Hitoshi tried to scold, but their words came out breathy and desperate.

“Tch, baby I can be so nice if you’ll let me.”

“I’d let you do a lot to me, but I’m gonna need you to take those pants off.”

A deep chuckle fell off Bakugo’s lips as he hurriedly shimmied off his pants and underwear. His cock looked flushed and pink, and Hitoshi couldn’t help but get their hands on it, immediately beginning to stroke it.

“FUCK, warn a guy first!” Bakugou huffed out, indignation at odds with his flushed face and quickening breath. “Anything off-limits? Tell me now before I fucking destroy you.”

Hitoshi cackled manically. “Destroy me? Sounds kinky, don’t make threats you can’t follow through. I’d be down if you wanted to slap me around a bit.” Bakugou seemed to be edging his face closer to their cunt, his stubble working the skin of their thigh into a red flush.

“Fuck me up a bit, I wanna feel it in the morning. My safeword is roast beef.” They weren’t sure how far they wanted to press Bakugou, but the heady sense of control  made Hitoshi want to see how much they could let loose. They threaded their fingers through Bakugou’s soft blond hair to bring him up to their face, a hand sneaking down the man’s abs.

Bakugou chuckled. “Good to know, but I was asking which hole you want me to fuck dipshit?”

“Front I guess, if you can be a good boy for me.”

“Tch, don’t fucking call me that.” Bakugo’s face twisted into a grimace and looked to the side, avoiding Hitoshi’s gaze. They knew the smell of a landmine and quickly stepped in a different direction.

“K, no sweat dude, what are your limits? What on the table, cause I’m hungry too.” Hitoshi cocked a thin purple eyebrow as they slowly stroked Bakugou’s flushed cock.

“Don’t put shit around my neck or anything too deep in my mouth. Don’t restrain me or stop me from moving. Don’t call me ‘boy.’” A flush was rising from the man’s neck all the way to his angular cheeks.

“So you’re not a boy.” Hitoshi started to slowly stroke Bakugou’s cock, enjoying the pre-cum slowly beading at its tip. “Can I call you ‘Daddy’ instead?” Bakugou’s dick twitched in their hand. “Guess you like that, daddy.” 

Hitoshi chuckled as another wave of confidence crested and with a quick grapple they brought Bakgou down on top of the mattress, their thin arms pressing his bulky shoulders down. They threw a leg over Bakugou’s hips and settled their pussy on top of his dick, enjoying the delicious friction of his dick against their pussy lips. Hitoshi’s own precum made for a smooth glide as they slowly worked up a rhythm of grinding their dick into Bakugou’s. The sensitive little head sent sparks of pleasure as it brushed against Bakugou’s shaft.

“That’s it baby, jerk my dick off with your pussy, feels good to have your dick on mine.” 

With a growl Bakguou’s hands gripped their hips and held them down so Bakgou could push up, thrusting his dick quickly, the lewd, wet noises filling the dingy green walls of the studio apartment.

“Fuck baby, I wanna be inside this tight cunt.” 

Hitoshi whimpered, the desperation in Bakgou’s voice sending a shiver up their spine. The proud arc of Bakugou’s brow was crinkled into a pathetic little shape, and Hitoshi could taste a sweet victory in their own grin.

“Aww, daddy, all you had to do was ask.” With a grace that surprised even them, Hitoshi leaned forward and slid backward, making Bakugou’s dick slip inside. A little whimper escaped their lips as they bottomed out. For a moment they simply enjoy the feeling of fullness and the way Bakugou’s eyes went wide with admiration. His hands rested on Hitoshi’s hips, thumbs rubbing gentle circles that belied the tension in his jaw, clearly trying to hold back from rushing Hitoshi. Perched on top of a Bakugou hanging on to his control by a thread, Hitoshi felt like being greedy.

They slowly rose up, enjoying the feeling of that thick dick dragging along their insides. They enjoyed the way Bakugou’s brow creased when they started to massage the tip of his dick, their cunt tightening around it and taking no more than the crown inside. Bakugou’s hands were now gripping their hips hard enough to bruise.

“Wow, daddy, you're such a good dildo for me. And here I was thinking you were going to… what was it again? Destroy me?” Hitoshi leaned back, bracing their arms on Bakugou’s tense thighs. They felt like some sort of king perched on a golden throne of muscle and limited impulse control.

“I can be whatever you want, baby,” Bakugou spat out. “You just have to tell me what you want.”

“Destroy me then, daddy. Show me what you can do, or is that attitude just for show?” Hitoshi wondered where Bakugou had learned all this restraint, but they wanted to see him break.

Bakugou let loose a feral growl, using the harsh grip on their hips to pull Hitoshi down as he thrust up, making Hitoshi cry out in surprise. Bakugou set a punishing pace, using the momentum from his own thrusts to keep Hitoshi bouncing on his dick.

Hitoshi noticed the way Bakugou kept furtively glancing at their tits, the small mounds bouncing slightly. They brought their hands up to cup their chest, long fingers beginning to tweak their nipples, and Bakugou let out a rough grunt.

“Fuck yeah baby, play with your little tits for me, look so good on top of me. Such a good little slut for daddy.”

Hitoshi let out a broken sob of pleasure as the praise made them cum. They could feel the way their spasming hole gripped Bakugou, holding the man still as their pleasure rocked through them. Hitoshi panted as they tried to stay upright, Bakugou thankfully stilling long enough for them to catch their breath.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good around me. Tell me I can move, I wanna… I wanna,” Bakugou whined out, seeming to be almost out of words, and certainly at the end of his control but willing to hold off his own pleasure until Hitoshi said otherwise.

Hitoshi felt a kind of pride blossoming in their chest, having reduced Bakugou to an animal of raw need. They cackled before reaching behind themselves to slap at Bakugou’s thighs.

“Giddy-up Daddy” Hitoshi snickered at Bakugou’s groan as the man resumed fucking up into Hitoshi, thrusts almost violent in the single-minded pursuit of his orgasm. Hitoshi stroked their own dick, playing with the head at the edge of overstimulation, making their own knees go weak as another orgasm rolled through them. Hitoshi curled over Bakugou, sloppily kissing and licking at the other’s mouth as the man came inside of them, warmth filling them up so good they could feel the cum leak out of their cunt.

After a few rounds of very athletic sex, they both rolled over, their heaving breaths filling the quiet of the night. Hitoshi could finally feel a sense of exhaustion creep over them. They turned to Bakugou, greedy hands trying to bring him closer, the tired haze making them feel the need for more skin-on-skin contact.

“Hey, I’m still on New York time so I’m not gonna be able to sleep for a while. You mind if I tidy for a bit?”

Hitoshi cracked an eyelid. They supposed they shouldn’t be surprised that Bakugou would feel called to tidy up their shit hole, and the trash probably did need to be taken out. 

“Cuddles first, then you can be my maid.”

Hitoshi yawned as they curled around Bakugou, long limbs weaving around muscular ones. “Don’t throw my work papers away,” they murmured into Bakugou’s soft hair as sleep slowly claimed them.

The smell of coffee pricked at Hitoshi’s nose as the warmth of late morning sun beat down on their face, their black-out curtains pulled wide open for once. They stretched the sleep out of their limbs, spine arching in a long line. They propped themselves up by their elbows to survey their room. It was almost unsettling, the sudden cleanness making it seem like a brand new space, almost home-like. All the trash was gone, spirited off to some faraway land. The years of grime had somehow been wiped off the wall and windows, no cobwebs remaining in any of the corners.

Hitoshi could see their floor AND the top of the coffee table, an event that had not occurred since they had moved in. On the floor, neat piles of official-looking paperwork made them almost feel like there was some hope it could all get filed one day.

The best sight of all was Bakugou, puttering around their kitchen in his underwear and the gag apron Mic had given him, all pink ruffles and gingham. 

“Hey sleeping beauty, ya want breakfast?” 

Hitoshi nodded and rolled out of bed. They had a moment of wondering if they should cover-up, but the air felt nice on their skin, and Bakguo’s blatant, hungry gaze brought a delightful heat to their face. Looking down, they could feel appreciation for the dark purple handprints on their hips and the mottled bruises over their belly and thighs. Images of the very thorough tour Bakugou had taken of their body last night slowly matched up with the receipts left on their skin.

Hitoshi made their way to the bathroom, their path clear for once. It seems even the porcelain closest had undergone the Bakugou treatment, the tiles finally white again and the mirror clear of all the flecks of toothpaste. A quick shower and a swish of mouthwash later and they were strolling back towards the kitchen, skin flushed from the shower. Bakugou held an arm out and Shinsou melted against his muscular frame. Their sneaky hand reached out and swiped Bakugou’s mug of coffee to take a large sip, but the bitter juice was spit out quickly.  

“Why do you drink it black? Do you hate yourself?”

“No, I hate my digestive tract. Though to be fair, considering the state of your fridge I’m not sure I trust your milk anyway.”

Hitoshi chuckled. They weren’t even sure what the inside of their fridge looked like anymore. They took down a shaker of powdered creamer and a pot of sugar and dumped a copious amount of both into the mug before Bakguou handed him a spoon, from the pile of recently cleaned dishes sitting on their one spare towel. 

“You really need a fucking dish rack. Hell, you need a lot of fucking home goods. Have you ever heard of having a clothes hamper?”

“Sure, we all need a lot of things but I’m poor and tired and managing just fine.”

“Shinsou, I just spent most of the past ten hours cleaning your tiny fucking trash heap of an apartment. You clearly have not been managing just fine.”

“I never asked for your fucking help.” Hitoshi scowled into their coffee, not liking the hot brand of shame poking at their guts. This is exactly why they never invited anyone over.

“Yeah, I know. Would you like it anyway?” Bakugou’s face was oddly open, and it seemed as though the man was genuinely offering to do something for Hitoshi after he had already cleaned their apartment.

“Huh?” Hitoshi was struggling to keep up this early in the morning, and a shirtless Bakugou gathering them in his arms wasn’t helping.

“Would you like my help baby? Would you let me spoil you?” Bakugou’s gravelly voice and hot breath against Hitoshi’s ear sent shivers down their spine.

“You want to buy me a dish rack, daddy?”

“I’ll buy you whatever you want, baby, but I am definitely getting you some cleaning supplies at the very least.”

“Sure, daddy, whatever floats your boat.”

Bakugou huffed out an amused chuff before turning away to pour another cup of coffee for himself before taking a few dishes from the towel to artfully arrange a variety of breakfast foods Bakugou seemed to have grabbed from the nearby 7/11. The meal was simple but the company greatly enriched the experience.

When they were done Bakugou bullied them into their warmest clothes before dragging Hitoshi over to a nearby department store. Hitoshi was surprised by how fast the day seemed to pass, hanging on Bakugou’s arm as they methodically navigated through a store to pick out things that apparently Hitoshi was in desperate need of.

Somehow Bakgou knew what everything was and apparently had a long list of things he insisted on buying. However, Bakugou paused to listen to Hitoshi when they voiced a preference and made sure that if there was more than one option, they got the one they wanted even if Bakugou made it clear what he thought of its quality. Did Bakugou poke fun at them for choosing the cute, often cat-covered options? Sure, but he also put things that made Hitoshi smile in the cart. Somehow Bakgou managed to strong-arm his way through paying for the seemingly excessive amount of plastic organizers and other means to a tidy home.

They spent the rest of the day sorting Hitoshi’s scant possessions into various bins, making some kind of system for their clothes, and stocking the cabinet under the sink with cleaning supplies that Bakugou threatens to teach them how to use.

“Does that mean you're not sick of me yet? Are you really gonna come around and teach me how to mop?” Hitoshi had given up on hiding their appreciation of Bakugou’s body, but they still tried to focus on reading the storm of emotions that seemed to blow across Bakugou’s face like a sudden storm.

“Why the fuck would I offer to do that if I didn’t want to?” Bakugou seemed oddly insulted and it warmed a little part of Hitoshi’s withered heart. They decided to be brave, Bakugou had sunk so much time and money into them after all.

“Well if you're gonna be around you should know that I uhh use they/them pronouns. Just FYI. ”

“Good to know.” He paused, Hitoshi’s statement finally making its way through his head. “Why did you wait ‘til after I’ve been balls deep in ya to tell me?” A small smile graced Bakugou’s face, making the man look at least a little amused.

“I wasn’t going to bother for a one-off fuck, but it seems like you’re going to stick around even after seeing what a trash gremlin I am. If that’s the case it’d mean a lot to me if you referred to me as such. Even if I’m not in the room.” Hitoshi tried not to pick at their cuticles and failed horribly.

“Are you kidding me?” Hitoshi felt their stomach drop at Bakugou’s disbelieving tone.

“Of course, I’ll use your pronoun of choice when you're not in the room. It’s basic fucking respect, you don’t need to ask for that.”

Hitoshi let out the breath they were holding and draped themselves over Bakugou’s broad back.

“I guess you're right, but thanks anyway.”

“For what?” Bakugou turned to kiss Hitoshi’s cheek as he continued to fold their finally clean laundry.

“All of this.” Hitoshi gestured at their apartment and themselves, something warm settling into their very core at the soft smile that graced Bakugou’s face before turning into a devilish smirk.

“Baby I’ll call you whatever you want me to, buy you whatever you want, you just have to tell me.”

Hitoshi felt themself flush and turned away to keep pretending that they were imitating the neat fold that Bakugou was subjecting their clothes to. The rest of the afternoon was spent assembling the various arcane systems of organization that Bakugou had generously afflicted their apartment with. The room looked larger somewhere, even though now there was objectively more shit in it. Hitoshi didn’t know what kind of witchcraft the other man had pulled but their apartment felt even more comfy without the familiar piles of energy drink cans, take-out containers, and other detritus from living a stressful 24/7 underground hero life.

As Bakgou was showing them which cleaner went on which surface, he got a text and uttered a small curse.

“Hey, I have to go do some stuff at the agency, would you want to get dinner sometime? Maybe at a real restaurant, and we can discuss getting kinky afterward.”

“I don’t have nice clothes so don’t take me somewhere fancy.”

“That can be fixed. Leave it to me,” Bakugou murmured as he leaned down to press a kiss on Hitoshi’s forehead.

Hitoshi didn’t bother to suppress their cackle as they whispered in his ear, “Okay, daddy” and peppered Bakugou’s cheek with small pecks.

They exchanged numbers and Bakugou worked his way to the door, seeming to find little things to fix or excuses to keep kissing Hitoshi. Eventually the blond got to the door, and with a long look announced he’d be in touch and to text him their schedule.

Over the next week, Hitoshi received a barrage of petty texts from Bakugou, bemoaning the stupidity of the people around him. Apparently Izuku had not hired people of Bakugou’s calibre, according to him. They replied with gifs that Bakugou doesn’t understand and cat pictures from their patrols. A few days before their next meeting Hitoshi received a sleek box in the mail. They opened it to find a very classy looking matte black box that contained some very soft and clearly expensive clothes. Hitoshi knew they didn’t order something and if their name wasn’t on the package they would have assumed it was delivered by mistake. So Hitoshi chucked it on top of their dresser to deal with later.

When Bakugou arrived at their apartment five minutes early, Hitoshi officially started to gay panic. Even in his nicest jeans and relatively fitted shirt, they felt underdressed. Bakugou’s charcoal grey dinner jacket hung off his broad shoulders over a light blue shirt and restrained, striped tie.His haircut was fresh and his glasses were as polished as his leather shoes. He looked the picture of accomplishment, power radiating through every line of his being even in Hitoshi’s dingy little apartment.

“Were the clothes I sent you not good enough, baby? Should I have decked you out in something else?” Bakugou smiles like a shark before striding into the small studio.

Hitoshi looked at the other man in confusion ‘til he strode through the apartment, picking up the black box. Gently, the man took out the black slacks, deep maroon button-up, skinny dark grey tie, a black sweater cut like a blazer, and some fancy-looking leather dress shoes. 

Bakugou gestures to the assembled fabric. “Did you even try them on?”

“No, I’m not in the habit of putting on clothes I randomly get in the mail. They could be poisoned for all I know.” Hitoshi thought they were making a very compelling argument, but Bakugou merely huffed in their general direction.

“Tch, the geezer said he’d include a note or some shit.” Bakugou patted down the fabric till he pulled out a small cream-colored envelope from the sweater’s pocket. He tossed at Hitoshi who eagerly opened to reveal a thick piece of paper embossed with the Bakugou brand logo. They flipped it around to see a neatly written note:

“To whomever, my son rush ordered these for, I hope you find them to your satisfaction. If you find Katsuki satisfactory as well I hope you’ll come around for dinner sometime- Masaru Bakugou

P.S. If you want some embarrassing baby pics just let me know-Mitsuki B xxx-xxx-xxxx”

“Your parents are pretty nice, huh? I wonder what uses I could find for your mom’s number?”

Bakugou tried to grab the card but Hitoshi slipped it into his phone case before the other hero could even lay a finger on it. Bakugou turned and huffed something about an evil old hag as he sat down and spread his legs on the couch.

“Well, now you knowthey’re embarrassing as fuck, hurry up and get dressed. We’re going to be late.” He gestured at the clothes on the bed. Hitoshi felt suddenly shy at the implication, even though just last week they had fucked in this very bed, their studio apartment offered no cover from Bakugou’s hungry eyes.

Hitoshi grabbed the hem of their shirt and slowly lifted it up. For a moment the soft grey fabric obscured Bakguo’s face. When they let the garment fall to the floor they couldn’t help the shiver that rolled up their spine at the way Bakugou’s red eyes took in their body, lingering on the scars that slashed across their arms and stomach. Hitoshi tried not to be self-conscious of the carpet of bruises that darkened their sides. Patrols that week had been rough, and they hadn’t been fast or strong enough to come out unscathed. Even the slow tease they were trying to perform made their sore muscles ache.

The way Bakugou’s pupils dilated and his breath hitch when they thumbed their sweatpants down made it worth it. Hitoshi let the pair fall down their legs before kicking them towards Bakugou, who quickly folded the sweats like a good maid. Stepping into the pair of sleek black slacks the tense silence of the apartment was weirdly electrifying. Bakugou was a force of nature incarnate, loud and restless. But here, he was sitting still on their old couch watching Hitoshi’s every move. They may have had a decade of training to sink into the shadows, to go unnoticed. But in the burning haze of the sunset, Hitoshi felt like they could get used to being stared at if it was Bakugou looking at them like he wanted to eat Hitoshi whole. Having all of the focus that man commanded directed towards them was an intoxicating experience.

Hitoshi found themselves moving slowly, hands gliding over the clothes, pressing the silky fabric of the shirt against their belly before tucking it into the pants. Everything fit perfectly, but Hitoshi still felt naked under the intensity of Bakugou’s gaze. 

“Do a little twirl for daddy, I wanna see how right I got your measurements.” Bakugou’s hungry leer made Hitoshi’s insides clench and shudder. 

Hitoshi laughed and did their best imitation of a fashionable pose and turn, a hand on hip and one waving in the air. Bakugou wore a self-satisfied smile as he prowled towards Hitoshi, strong arms coming to encircle their waist and pull them close.

“Perfect.” He kissed Hitoshi slow and languid before sliding a hand up their back and turning them towards the door, a hurried murmer about reservations as Bakugou rushed him out the door and down to the curb. Hitoshi managed to make it down the stairs without their tired legs giving out or asking Bakugou to carry them. A fancy-looking car sat at the curb, glaringly out of place among the dinged-up beaters and taped together vehicles typical of Hitoshi’s neighborhood.

“This your ride?” They tried to keep their tone level, wavering between dissing Bakugou’s excessive car and wanting to see how fast it could go on an empty road.

“Yeah, just till my motorbike comes in. Shipping a vehicle internationally is a bitch and a half.” The other man seemed almost amused by their affected boredom, and Hitoshi wondered what Bakugou would do if he knew how wet their briefs got at the thought of Bakugou’s thick thighs gripping a motorcycle. He opens Hitoshi’s door like a gentleman, closing it carefully after them.

They are once again struck by the difference they saw in the man before them, walking head held high, back straight. Gone was the crouched, bow-legged walk of a high school gremlin. Power radiated off Bakugou, who now moved more like a big cat than an aggro pomeranian as he stalked around the car to slide into the driver’s seat. The ride to the restaurant was calm, easy conversation about nothing making the tension from the hurried exit leak out of Hitoshi’s shoulders.

The building they roll up to is clearly one of those understated but expensive affairs, the contemporary brutalism of the architecture and the valet being the biggest tip off. They could feel the corner of their gut turn. Even in their fancy clothes Hitoshi knew this wasn’t the kind of place they belonged. Hopefully at least they’d be able to put on a good show for Bakugou, make all the expense worth his time.

Hitoshi turned to Bakugou, their lips warped into an attempt at levity. “You know I can’t go dutch at this kind of place right?”

Bakugou merely chuffed, a sly smile stretching across his face. “Oh, I’m well aware, but don’t worry your handsome little head about that, baby. I’ll take care of everything.” Red eyes seemed to almost singe Hitoshi with their heat. Even when they left the car and Bakugou tossed the keys to the sweaty little valet, those red eyes kept looking at them, almost unnerving with that focused intensity.

The fucker even had a reservation, and the blushing little hostess was more than happy to show “Mr. Bakugou-sama” their table. Bakugou ordered for both of them after Hitoshi revealed that they had no idea how to order Italian-Chilean fusion food.

The food is of course delicious, and Bakugou is a charming dinner companion, easily making conversation about whatever had caught Hitsohi’s interest at the moment. Hitoshi couldn’t figure Bakugou out. The man was clearly good-looking, rich, and if the rumors they had heard were true was likely to debut on the hero charts close to Deku and Todoroki who had sat at the top for years at this point. The man across from him had everything, so why the fuck was he chasing a malnourished twink like them?

“What’s on your mind, baby?” It seems like Bakugou had noticed their inattention so Hitoshi decided to be bold for once.

“Why the fuck are you doing this? You know I’d bend over for you even if all you did was bring me a pack of instant ramen right? The nice clothes and this bougie resultant is a bit much don’t you think? Really, I’m easy.” 

Bakugou took a moment to study Hitoshi, hopefully buying the act of disaffection to disguise the deep, cutting insecurity that was trying to rend Hitoshi to pieces. They hadn’t had a lot of chances to date between the crippling dysphoria and the extra hours of training at UA. It didn’t leave much time for anything but drunk make-outs with some of the other blondes in their year.

Then graduation hit and Hitoshi had dove face-first into the underground, their only lifeline Aizawa who did his best to keep them on the level. But their mentor was old in an achy way and wanted to dote on Eri. Since they had to stumble through adulthood mostly on their own, Hitoshi made some missteps professionally and personally. They had spent so many nights bloodied and bruised on trash heaps in alleyways or being fucked face down into the dirty mattresses with no sheets. Most of the people they spent their evening with they used to get information from or just to pass the time, often both.

Hitoshi didn’t regret the dignity and safety they had given up to be effective, but they’d be lying to themselves if they said they weren’t enjoying being the current object of Bakugou’s attention and care, for however long it lasted. However long it took for Bakugou to learn that Hitoshi wasn’t really worth the trouble.

“I told you before, I’m at my best when I’m taking care of someone else. To be honest, it’s very selfish. I tend to get a little obsessive, and having a place to put that focus that’s not work-related is very beneficial for me.” Bakugou paused, taking a slow sip of some stupid expensive whiskey served neat. “I left work on time to get those clothes ordered and to make the reservation. I made sure I got a weekend off so that if you grace me with your presence I can spoil you for days. Don’t you see,” Bakugou paused to take another sip, “I care for myself by caring about others. So won’t you let me take care of you?”

“I guess I can be persuaded.” Hitoshi tried to remain calm in the face of Bakugou’s smug grin, stuffing their face with whatever fancy dessert he had ordered for them. The idea of caring for oneself was something still painfully foreign to Hitoshi, the concept of caring for another as self-care practically alien.

“How do you plan on caring for me next?”

“Depends on if you want to go to my place or yours.” Hitoshi wasn’t blind to the pattern of Bakugou presenting them with options and letting them choose what they wanted even if he always acted like he was the big man in charge.

“You got a room of your own or do you mean Izuku's couch?”

Bakugou lets loose a hearty laugh, almost catching Hitoshi off guard. “Yeah, I finally  got a place, though it’s not as… well lived-in as yours.”

“If you mean it doesn’t look like a hoarder tried to entomb themselves in trash I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing dude.”

Bakugou grimaced a hint of discomfort. At what, Hitoshi couldn’t be sure of.

“It is what it is. Deku apparently decided I would want some fully furnished modernist nonsense and locked me into a six-month lease.”

“Doesn’t that make it all easier? You just move in and start living right? I get that you apparently like decorating homes but…”

Bakugou looked out the window, taking another long sip of his drink. “I appreciate the thought, but it’s really just another example of Deku thinking he knows what’s best for me. I get that he wanted to make my move back smooth… but.” He took another sip and leaned back into the booth. 

“He didn’t ask first. And I was actually pretty excited to finally have a fucking apartment of my own. I’ve been living out of hotel rooms for almost a decade. When I moved over here I checked two bags on the plane and that was it.” Bakugou seemed almost bashful. “I was excited to finally get to buy a bed I actually liked, a sofa I would want to sit on, a rug to lay down on as I fall into another despair spiral obsessing over my failures like everyone else.” The earnest and open look on his face seemed at odds with his joking tone and Hitoshi felt a warm little ember of feeling burn just a bit brighter. To have Bakugou Katsuki being emotionally vulnerable with them seemed to be something incredibly precious.

“Well, at least you got to help me pick my despair spiral rug.”

“Huh, I guess so.” Bakugou finished his drink and took the bill from the still blushing waitress. Hitoshi idly wondered if it hurt to blush that much.

“So my place or yours, baby? Wanna see my modernist nightmare or be cozy in your little den?” This confident, self-aware, and funny Bakugou was going to murder Hitoshi with his smile alone.

“Considering you saw my trash kingdom I think it’s only fair that I get to see your shame pit.”

Bakugou merely huffed, a small smile breaking up the strange moroseness that had weighted his handsome face down. As they made their way out of the restaurant Hitoshi was struck by the thickening tension between them. They had peeped the bill which was almost two weeks of their pay, and now they were headed towards Bakugou’s apartment. Hitoshi wondered what Bakugou would want in exchange for all this “care,” as he called it.

Hitoshi was old enough to know the cost of a good time, and they knew this night had cost a lot. Their body was worn out from the week and Hitoshi could already tell that they wouldn’t have much stamina for further physical activity. Neither did they want to leave, enjoying the warmth of the man besides them. If Bakugou wanted a fuck, Hitoshi wouldn't say no.

So they follow Bakugou into the fancy tower’s elevator and pull him into a desperate kiss. If they’re gonna have to put out it will be on their terms at the very least. Bakugou lifted them up so their long legs could circle his waist, strong arms keeping them aloft as the lift smoothly glided to the top floor. Bakugou didn’t even have to fumble for his keys, the door opened to a swipe of his phone. The other man kicked the door closed before throwing the three locks.

“So you gonna show me your bedroom, daddy?” Hitoshi put on their best big eyes and a sultry smirk that they could muster.

“Pfff maybe if you’re ready to sleep, but I said I’d take care of you and you look worn out. Hot as fuck, but tired nonetheless. Have you had a long week, baby?”

Hitoshi tried to hide their face in Bakugou’s shoulder, hoping that they could avoid the gentle mockery in Bakugou’s voice if they didn't look at him.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice all that bruising on your body or the way you’ve been favoring your left side. I think a nice bath is in order. I hate the fucking bathroom but the tub is ridiculously large.”

“You’re not trynna fuck me tonight? What was the point of dinner then?” Hitoshi looked at Bakugou then. They felt like they kept missing cues and winding up more confused every minute.

“To treat you right and get to know you better. Maybe even see if we have any compatible kinks, remember? Did you come up here with some idea that you were gonna pay me back with sex? Because when I said I’d take care of everything, I meant it.”

Hitoshi looked away, walking over to the large glass windows to look at the late twilight drench the city in a warm shroud. They didn’t know what to make of Bakugou’s declaration, but they were genuinely tired. Hitoshi just wanted to relax, to unwind from the stress of the week, and if Bakguou was offering that for free? They’d be a fool to turn that down.

“Yeah I was, but I do want to spend more time with you… and I guess if you wanna take care of me that might not be so bad.”

Bakugou shot them a wolfish grin before picking Hitoshi up like a bride and walking them to the bathroom. He set Hitoshi down and began to run a warm bath before gently stripping them out of their fancy clothes, folding them into a neat pile.

“This room is so extra. I think it might be as large as my entire apartment.” Hitoshi glanced around, the black stone and ceramic theme making the room feel like a bleak cave. They didn’t have a bathtub in their little hovel but at least their bathroom didn’t look like the site of a ritual sacrifice.

Bakugou muttered something about “damn nerd’s shit taste” as he scrubbed them both clean under the bougie shower and threw a bath bomb into the tub, making the water a pretty purple as the smell of lavender and heather perfumed the air. They climbed into the tub, Hitoshi leaning back into Bakugou’s chest. As the warmth sunk into their tired muscles, they couldn’t contain the sigh of relief. Their relaxed state seemed to bring forth even more of Bakugou’s urge to care, the other man using his calloused hands on Hitoshi’s shoulders to loosen them up. The man worked their body over and soon Hitoshi found that all the aches and pains that had kept them up that week had melted away.

Eventually when they were pruney and almost limp with calm, Bakugou picked them up and set them on the cold ceramic sink counter to towel them off with the softest of cotton. When Bakugou crouched down to towel off their feet they caught their reflection in the dark stone walls. Hitoshi took a minute to admire the way their pale skin had flushed pink with the heat, the bruises from their hell week faded slightly into a mottled pattern across their limbs. Their nipple piercings glinted in the golden lights and when they leaned back they looked relaxed, limbs draped over black countertops and wall.

Hitoshi admired the way the Bakugou’s muscular back bent and flexed, all that power focused on drying off their feet. They were shocked at the open expression on Bakugou’s face, a small sweet smile on his lips, seeming to be delighted by getting to do this menial task. Bakugou may look like a god of war but right now it felt like Hitoshi was the one getting worshipped.

The small kisses that he peppered their feet and ankles only deepened the heavy sense of awe that was settling into their ribs. No one had ever been so soft with them and they felt like if the mood didn’t shift they would be crushed under Bakugou’s devotion.

“Didn’t take you to be a foot guy.” Hitoshi’s attempt at levity doesn’t even faze Bakugou, the little chuckle he lets loose a small victory in the face of his relentless attention.

“I’m not really, but yours are fucking pretty, for some reason.”

Hitoshi huffed as Bakugou began to kiss his way up their calves, hands slowly tracing a path upwards. The soft press of lips began to alternate with the sharp string of teeth as Bakugou bit into the flesh of their thigh, leaving his own trail of bruises. Eveutly Hitoshi could feel his hot breath against their cunt, soft purple pubic hair ruffling like leaves. Bakugou tilted his head questioningly and Hitoshi was helpless against the hunger they saw in those eyes and nodded their head.

It was a tragedy that Hitoshi had gone this many years without knowing that Bakugou could eat pussy like a man starved. He used his tongue, fingers, even nose in perfect harmony to bring waves of pleasure crashing down on them. With a shuddering cry, Hitoshi came, squirting over Bakugou’s face. His forehead to collar bone was coated in their fluids and Bakugou thankfully seemed more amused than disgusted, chuckling to himself as he licked Hitoshi clean. They didn’t feel like they could trust their legs, their whole body seemed to have gone lax.

“Guess it’s time to wash my face huh?” Bakugou’s delighted grin seemed to glow in the darkness of the bathroom. He made sure to rinse his and Hitoshi’s face with a woody-smelling gel that foamed nicely. They would never be over how gentle Bakugou could touch them, always mindful of his strength but never treating them like they were made of glass. Hitoshi would leave the second Bakugou started treating them like a girl, but right now all they felt was precious, as Bakguou handed them his entire fucking skincare basket and carried them to his bedroom.

The room itself was as spare as the apartment itself, all sleek modern furnishings and few personal effects. A snow globe with the Statue of Liberty inside sat on the bedside table along with a graphic novel about werewolves that was clearly for someone much younger.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding about this place this fucking barren.” The surprise slipped out of their mouth before they could stop it, but Bakugou just huffed and laid down on the bed, back sinking into the pile of pillows.

“Well, I’ve lived out of a suitcase for most of my adult life. Couldn’t really carry a lot when you don’t have a permanent residence.”

Hitoshi nodded as they straddled Bakugou’s hips. They could feel his hard dick between their ass cheeks reminding them that he hadn’t come yet. They tried to be subtle about grinding against his dick as Bakugou seemed very focused on spraying their face with a floral mist before patting on a herbal smelling serum from a fancy-looking green glass bottle.

“Baby, you don’t have to do that, tonight is about taking care of you. Just relax, you don’t have to do anything.” Bakugou chided, a hand coming up to cup their jaw with a tenderness that Hitoshi was finding more and more addicting. 

“Yeah and a part of my self-care routine is sitting on your fat cock daddy, and it’s been a long week.” Hitoshi ground their ass back, a wide smirk across their face, enjoying the way Bakugou’s jaw went slack and a faint flush began to color his cheeks. He sighed in a put-upon way and gripped Hitoshi’s damp hair tightly, bringing them up to a slow kiss as Bakugou fumbled out some lube to quickly slick his dick before Hitoshi was slowly sinking down on it. His cock was just as thick and satisfying as Hitoshi remembered, their cunt yielding easily, considering how well Bakugou had worked it over with his mouth just minutes ago.

Their back arched in pleasure as Bakugou’s dick filled them out. Hitoshi ground down trying to get some friction until strong hands gripped their hips and kept them still.

“Skincare first baby, and if you’re feeling up to it after I’ll fuck you then okay?” Bakugou seemed to still be blushing all the way down his neck but the determined set of his eyes told Hitoshi they wouldn’t be getting any ‘til the man was done smearing smelly goo on their face.

“So, how did I not awkwardly bring up that we were gonna talk about what kind of sexual relations we wanted to have?” Hitoshi tried not to grimace as they saw Bakugou’s face go through five stages of something.

“Well, you made it fucking awkward already so it’s only up from here. Do you seriously use the phrase sexual relations while sitting on my dick?” Bakugou seemed to land on amusement if the small smirk was any indication.

Hitoshi grinned. They were glad that their awkwardness hadn’t derailed the evening. Between layers of nice smelling goop that Bakugou tenderly rubbed into both of their faces, they talked about what they wanted to share together. Hitoshi was surprised that many of their preferences overlapped, though Hitoshi was glad they could feel Bakugou’s dick twitched inside of them whenever he really liked something. It made the little prideful monster in their chest grow, watching how Bakugou would stutter and twitch whenever they tightened around him. They found that they rather liked the way that Bakugou worked the various potions into their skin, how he waited for them to gather their thoughts before speaking. For someone with a supposedly short temper, Bakugou was incredibly patient.

Hitoshi was used to watching others, constantly vigilant because if they could sniff out a weakness of an opponent to exploit before the shit hit the fan, they’d get to live another day. But here in the quiet cold of Bakugou’s austere bedroom, they felt something inside them unfurl. Bakugou watched them with an attentive softness that they had never been subjected to. While they were lost in their contemplations, Bakugou seemed to arrive at the end of the skincare gauntlet, hands now busy stroking up and down Hitoshi’s legs.

They locked eyes as Hitoshi began to try and rise up to ride Bakugou like they wanted, but it was a shaky effort at best, their legs already exhausted with long patrols and soft from Bakugou’s massages.

“Now, baby, what did we just talk about?” Bakugou’s tone was patronizing but the warmth in his eyes made Hitoshi melt, just a little.

“That I won’t push myself too hard, and that I can rely on you to take care of me.”

“So how do you want daddy to take care of you, baby?”

“I want you to use my hole to get off, but I don’t want to do anything but lay here. Can you do that for me daddy? Fuck me good till you cum and then tuck me the fuck in cause I wanna sleep.”

Bakugou laughed, an ugly but joyful sound as he gently flipped Hitoshi on their back, dick never leaving their lax hole. He began to gently rock into Hitoshi, balls making a wet noise when they slapped against their lube-slicked taint, as he kissed Hitoshi as deeply as he could. The slow grind was almost torture in the way it bullied Hitoshi closer to an edge that was just out of reach, but the way their body was sinking into Bakugou’s fluffy bed was too good to fight.

Bakugou himself seemed to be doing his best to maintain his slow pace, and Hitoshi couldn’t help but wonder what it would take for the man to break and actually fuck them.

They brought their mouth up to his ear, tongue gently tracing the out edge as they whispered, “Am I a good hole, daddy?” 

The way Bakugou let loose a broken cry as he thrust deeper into Hitoshi was very satisfying, seeing this man stutter and groan as he fucked ever faster inside of them, brought them a strange joy. 

“Fuck yes baby, so good for me.” Bakugou licked up their neck, while he played with their nipple piercings, tugging and twisting in a devilish counterpoint to the rhythm he was thrusting into Hitoshi at. Hitoshi was so sensitive from all the attention that Bakugou had subjected their pussy to that it took very little to make them cum. Hitoshi could feel the way their spasming walls gripped Bakugou’s dick, making the other man cum with a force that seemed to surprise them both.

Hitoshi laid down, committed to doing the bare minimum since Bakugou had been so insistent on taking care of them. It seemed that Bakugou was trying to make them orgasm into an early grave, his talented tongue cleaning out his cum from Hitoshi’s pussy before trotting to the bathroom to grab a damp towel to finish the job with.

When everything was clean and tidy to Bakugou’s standard he tucked Hitoshi under his arm they could feel a cozy warmth creep across their skin and drip into their heart. They couldn’t name the feeling with a gun to their head, but in the haze of sleepiness, they found themselves wanting more.

Over the next months Bakugou’s care for the longevity of Shinsou Hitoshi seems to permeate every aspect of their life. One time they passed out for almost 42 hours and awoke to all their shoes having been re-soled with expensive rubber. Their favorite leather boots polished to a shine and freshly waterproofed. Now there were almost always groceries in the fridge and home-made meals cooked by Bakugou himself in the freezer. Nice new socks found their way into their hamper and somehow their laundry card was always full of money. One time they even came home to find Bakugou in a sinfully tight black tank top fixing their leaking sink.

As soon as they exchanged keys it seemed like Bakugou almost took up residence in Hitoshi’s cramped little studio, but somehow it wasn’t a bother. Maybe because Bakugou kept the place immaculately clean, but somehow the large hero fit into Hitoshi’s little hovel well. When they would wake up to see Bakugou’s golden glasses on the bedside table, it always warmed their little gremlin heart. One time there was a beautiful metal zippo lighter instead, engraved with cute little cats, which made Hitoshi coo till they saw the safety manual that Bakguou had of course taped to it.

Bakugou didn’t take them to any more expensive restaurants or splurge for fancy outings. Truthfully Hitoshi was thankful, they didn’t think they’d ever be comfortable in those kinds of settings, they were a citizen of the sewer for life. However sometimes it did rankle somewhat that Bakugou seemed to try very hard not to get recognised with them in public either. Hitoshi had to wonder why they sometimes felt more like a secret in their relationship than they did in their hero work. But then Bakugou would burst into their kingdom of shadows like a raging sun, demanding Hitoshis focus so that he could warm them.

Overall it seemed like whatever grew between them managed to settle into something sweet, even with all the rough sex and occasional arguments. Somehow, no matter what the subject, no matter how loud they yelled at each other, they always managed to find a calm level eventually.

The quiet lasted just long enough for Hitoshi to believe that they didn’t have to worry too much about whatever weird thing they and Bakugou had going on. With how much time they spent together Hitoshi didn’t notice how long it had been since they’d seen anyone else until Denki texted them out of the blue about some sort of party at his penthouse.

Maybe if Hitoshi had gotten out of the Bakugou’s bubble and interacted with others, they might have made different choices. But when the both of them rolled up to Denki’s apartment, they made a simple mistake.

Hitoshi handed their coat to Bakugou like they usually did, the other man was weirdly fussy about making sure to hang it up, not wanting it to crease or some shit. Hitoshi turned around to a gobsmacked Denki, looking like he had seen an alien make contact or something. Hitoshi looked down at themselves, making sure their strange asymmetrical black button-up with straps and fashionable billowy pants that were almost a skirt were still clean and presentable. They didn’t really understand fashion but now that Bakugou was willing to lend his eye for design and, more importantly, his wallet, Hitoshi’s closet, had quickly filled with Yamamoto and other more adventurous designers.

“What’s with the face Denks? Like my fresh fit?” Hitoshi chuckled and twirled around in a circle, loving the look of the inky black fabric billowing around them dramatically.

“Uhhhh, yeah great clothes, more importantly why the heck did you hand your jacket to Kacchan? Do you want him to explode it?” Denki’s shocked face made Hitoshi realize that their normal was apparently something to be remarked on by close friends.

Hitoshi shrugged their shoulders and turned to ask Bakugou to fetch them a drink but the man merely patted them on the shoulder and wound his way into the party. Denki leveled a curious gaze towards Hitoshi but thankfully for once didn’t press for more information, instead leading Hitoshi to the bar to get acquainted with Denki’s newest innovation. It turned out to be a semi-drinkable concoction of vodka, hard cider, and some neon-colored juice.

They’re content to hide by the refreshments table for a while, scoping out the room. Hitoshi was surprised by how many people they recognized, Denki seeming to have managed to get most of the surviving members of their year together. Hero Classes A through B as well as some people from support departments mingled with a few sidekicks that Hitoshi knew were fucking some of the pros, they couldn’t all be Kirishima’s. Hitoshi half-heartedly listened to the ebb and flow of conversations that swirled around them, observing the way currents of bodies brought people together and broke them apart again and again. Bakugou was a strange chameleon of a creature to watch. While he didn’t seek people out, it seemed as if everyone seemed determined to get their time in his radiance. Even among the bright lights of the party, Bakugou shone like a sun, blond hair and a loud voice making him stand out all the more in the cavernous glass den that Denki called his bird’s eye bachelor pad. Even his round golden frames seemed to shine brighter than anything around him.

It was interesting to study Bakugou moving through a world that was both familiar and foreign to Hitoshi. They hadn’t cultivated many friendships in UA or bothered to stay in touch with those they had. They also weren’t the #2 hero, so they were largely left alone to sulk in the shadows. Bakugou had most of the party circling him like sharks, waiting for a chance to bite off a piece of him. Bakugou, to his credit, took it all in with an ease that seemed almost comical in contrast to the man who had spent a good half hour washing Hitoshi’s dishes and grumbling about the various deficits of most of the people in the room.

But the man that stood in the center of the sea as if it was a stage seemed to be an almost different creature entirely. He didn’t carry himself with the ease that seemed more natural in their apartment, the ease that came after a good fuck while cooking Hitoshi breakfast for dinner. With how much time Hitoshi spent with Bakugou these days, they could tell that under the charming smirk and powerful stance, the man was itching to be anywhere else.  People’s hands seemed to wander over his tense body no matter how many times he extracted himself. Hitoshi was sure that Bakugou would rather be stuffing his face with popcorn on Hitoshi’s comfortable couch and yelling at the American wrestlers whose matches they were missing.

Hitoshi found themselves growing bored of watching people grope and fawn over Bakugou and began to make their way over. When Hitoshi finally managed to get over to where Bakugou stood, Kirishima was already swinging Bakugou over to meet others. Purple eyes met red and Bakugou merely shrugged, as if he didn’t have two perfectly functional legs of his own. Hitoshi tried to make conversation with the people around them, but they could only listen to Monoma and Tetsu drone on about their perfect dogs for so long. Hitoshi set off to try and tried to get Bakugou’s attention but every time they seemed to get close the blond was whirled off into another direction. It was like playing hide and seek but Bakugou was in plain view, just constantly out of reach.

Eventually, Hitoshi had to admit defeat. Either there is a coordinated plan to keep Bakugou away from them, or Bakugou is avoiding them for reasons unknown. They know Aizawa would scold them for being illogical, it was absurd to think that people were deliberately keeping Bakugou away from them. Which left the only logical conclusion to draw was that Bakugou was avoiding them. Maybe he was ashamed of them or just didn’t want to bother all his fancy hero friends with a trash boi like Hitoshi. Old demons started to claw at the back of Hitoshi’s mind. The familiar sharpness of inadequacy that had hallowed them out so often after that first sports festival seemed to be creeping back with a vengeance.

With a scowl, they headed off to Denki’s balcony, their pace growing quickly as they caught the sideways glances of some of their classmates and their new sidekicks. Hitoshi tried to breathe deep, keeping the panic that was rising down, tired to mute the voices screaming at them that everyone was looking at them with scorn or pity. Out of nowhere, Izuku materialized to hold the balcony door open and follow Hitoshi out into the night air.

Hitoshi was glad Izuku had a cigarette to spare even if it was a menthol. The two heroes sat outside, the soft smoke lazily wafting from their mouths. Hitoshi tried to be thankful for the company but Izuku wasn’t the man they wanted next to them. They tried to be subtle about looking through the glass doors but the way another man had an arm thrown over Bakugou’s shoulders was too much to hold inside. They tried to hide the little harsh sob that escaped their throat with a cough, but from the soft sadness in Izuku’s eyes, it was clear that they weren’t successful. Izuku  signed and stuffed out his own cigarette.

“He’s being an idiot,” he says.“Give me a few and I’ll get his head out of his ass.”

Hitoshi turned away Izuku, unsure of how they were supposed to feel about everything that sentence implied. They faced out towards the bright lights of downtown while the other man slipped through the balcony doors. The ember was almost to the filter by the time they heard the doors open behind them. A familiar hand slipped to the small of their back as another cupped their face to tilt it up leaving them bare to Bakugou’s piercing red gaze.

“Don’t you have extras’ asses to kiss up too?” Hitoshi tried to make their voice as sharp as a knife but their words sounded more like the rasp of sandpaper.

“You’re mad at me.” Bakugou faced them straight on, not even blinking, red eyes seeming to bore into their deepest core.

“No shit, asshole, you’ve been ignoring me all night. I know you may not be out to the public but I didn’t think you’d be ashamed of me in front of our friends, too. If you were just gonna act like I don’t exist I would have just stayed home”

Bakugou looked taken aback, mouth open and brow creased in the appearance of hurt and concern. Hitoshi could feel how all the alcohol they had consumed in a desperate drive to numb out was making their tongue sharper than they wanted. But at this point they didn’t really care, shock was a good look on Bakugou.

Bakugou blushed and looked away. “That’s not it. I wanted to be here with you. Just Ei and the rest of the idiots kept pulling me away.” Bakugou sighed and seemed to be trying to gather his thoughts. As sour as the feelings of shame and inadequacy sat on Hitoshi’s tongue, they knew better than to interrupt Bakugou when he was trying to verbalize a feeling. He didn’t do it nearly often enough, but Hitoshi could appreciate the effort. Even if they didn’t appreciate how soft they were getting for this asshole.

“Though, I have also been avoiding you. And it’s not for the reason you are probably thinking.” Bakugou’s bashful little look, fluttering eyelashes framed by golden glasses,  make for an appealing picture that mollified some of the rage burning in Hitoshi’s chest.

Hitoshi gave Bakugou their best withering stare. They didn’t think they could quite spell out what they were thinking, choked up on emotion as they were.

“I’m not good at this relationship shit. Usually, when I have this kind of arrangement where I pay for shit there’s a contract or at least a very thorough verbal agreement. So I’m a little confused as to how I’m supposed to introduce you if you even want me to be… close to you when we’re not on a date.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘agreement’? I thought we were fucking dating, what do you even consider me as? A business expense?” Hitoshi was now thoroughly confused. A mean kind of rage was rising to fill their throat. 

Bakugou laughed a deep warm sound that made Hitoshi’s heart warm, just a little. “I think sugar baby is a more common term than a business expense. But I’m happy to be your boyfriend as well as your daddy if that’s what my baby wants.” The warm smile on Bakugou’s face eased some of their rage.

“I’m more of a scum bag than a sweetheart but if you’re okay with that I’ll be your baby.”

Bakugou’s wide smile catches them off guard, every defense they could muster disarmed by the sheer joy radiating from Bakugou’s pretty face.

“It’s okay, you can be my scum baby instead.” Hitoshi laughed as Bakugou peppered their face with little kisses, finally feeling like they were on an even keel for the first time that night. They stilled when Bakugou nuzzled his face into Hitoshi’s neck.

“I’m also worried that I’ll get your pronouns wrong in front of people. I practice with Deku but I don’t want to be a dick, especially in front of your friends. You deserve better than that.”

Hitoshi could feel something tender sooth at the itching wounds all the emotions of the evening had left behind. They threaded their fingers into Bakugou’s hair, getting a good enough grip to bring the man to their eye level.

“Bakugou, you are literally the only person outside of my family that tries, at all. You made an effort to actually get used to using they/them? Denki’s one of my best friends and even he slips up more often than not. I don’t need you to be perfect, the fact that you’re trying at all is good enough for me. Plus I’d rather have you next to me than across the room getting felt up. This ass is mine.” Hitoshi slid both hands down Bakugou’s sides and slipped them into his back pockets, cupping that plump ass in both of their hands. Hitoshi pulled him close to press a soft little kiss to his lips.

Bakugou grinned into their mouth and ground backward into Hitoshi’s grasp. “This ass is all yours, baby. I should get you jealous more often, you're hot when you’re mad.” He wrapped his arms around Hitoshi to bring them even closer.

“If that ass is mine, can I fuck it later?”

“Of course, baby, I wanna give you whatever you want.” 

Hitoshi was overcome with delight, happy to be in the arms of someone who clearly wanted them to be greedy. They were more than happy to oblige, hungrily licking into Bakugou’s mouth chasing the familiar bitterness of whiskey and cigarettes. When they pull apart they’re still turning over the information like a smooth stone.

“Didn’t think you’d be into bottoming,” Hitoshi says. 

“Common misconception. Though some of the weird dicks you have under your bed seem like they’d be a fun challenge.”

Hitoshi sighed, burying their head in between Bakugou’s plush chest, desperate to hide their embarrassment. “I can’t believe you cleaned my sex toys.”

“You better be thankful. There’s no way I’d let your fucking unwashed dicks anywhere near my ass if I hadn’t boiled them myself.”

Hitoshi didn’t try to hide their laughter. They stand up on their tiptoes to kiss Bakugou again, savoring the knowledge that it was a pleasure they could freely indulge in. 

“What would you say to leaving early to give one of my weird dicks a try?” he asks.

Bakugou sent them a vicious grin and dragged them back into the party, waving off Denki. Hitoshi was impressed with the efficiency that Bakugou cut through the crowd to get their jackets, and the whirlwind of blond and purple almost managed to make it out of the apartment. A hardened hand on the door stopped their progress, and Hitoshi was abruptly reminded that Bakugou wasn’t the only one of their classmates that got big.

“Hey, Bro, why are you ducking out so early? It’s not even your bedtime yet.” Kirishima’s shining smile had never been an impediment to Hitoshi getting their dick wet before, but now that it was they found themselves seriously considering using their quirk to move the literal mountain of a man in front of him.

But Bakugou merely wrapped an arm around Hitoshi’s waist and smirked. “I’m taking my baby home to see how good they can fuck my ass, so I’d suggest getting out of our way.” 

Bakugou brought a sparking palm up to Kirishima’s cheek and let loose a small explosion, knocking the other man to the floor. Kirishima seemed almost dazed in surprise, unable to close his jaw. Bakugou stepped over him and Hitoshi tried not to trip over the other hero who seemed more like a petrified rock than a hero. A chorus of wolf whistles and hoots followed them down the hall and Hitoshi did not bother to hide the hungry smile they sent towards Bakugou as they slipped a hand into his back pocket. They were very excited to introduce Bakugou’s plush ass to their monster dicks, but leaving the room on his arm felt pretty great too.

After they had shed their party clothes on the floor, Hitoshi had introduced their favorite dicks to Bakugou’s hole. He had cried on each deliciously and Hitoshi could not believe they had waited this long to get inside their daddy. In the late hours of the night as Bakugou and Hitoshi traded puffs of a cigarette, Hitoshi found themselves taking in their clean apartment. All of the floor was clear, the wonderful softness of clean sheets felt amazing against their sweaty skin. Bakugou had touched every inch of their life, making everything just a bit better, more bright and shiny. Thinking back on the feelings that had plagued them for most of the night, Hitoshi had to laugh. It was so clear that Bakugou cared for them, and saw them as precious enough to spend his one day off a week rubbing Hitoshi’s sore feet. Fuck, Bakugou had even announced to all their friends that he was excited to get fucked by a raccoon-eyed bastard like them, hadn’t bothered to make up a lie or anything. Like he was proud of the liberties he had let Hitoshi take with his ass and wasn’t afraid to let the world know it.

Hitoshi looked down at the golden god that had brought all this comfort into their life as Bakugou carefully ashed the cigarette in an actual ashtray instead of an empty beer can. They tried to be slick and hide their fond smile by kissing his un-creased forehead, but Bakugou’s warm little hum told them they had failed that mission miserably. Hitoshi may be a scumbag but they were pretty happy to be Bakugou’s baby.