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“Oh–– holy shit, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I can’t…” The girl shrunk back and trembled beneath the searing heat of Bakugou’s glare. “I–– please don’t hurt me. I’m so, so sorry.” Her pale face and wide eyes accentuated her fear, like a bunny shrinking away from a wolf’s teeth.
Unfortunately for her, the Explosive hero course student only took a step forward. She clearly understood the danger she was in, and even though seeing her cower was enjoyable, he couldn’t just torture her — he needed answers.
“Explain this fuckery of a Quirk. Now.” He spat, holding up a glowing right hand in threat. He felt hot, and… something was stirring in his stomach. A poison-type Quirk, maybe? Thoughts flitted through his head a mile a minute. Would he need to go to Recovery Girl? Would she even be able to heal it?
“You’re–– shit. Yeah, uh, my Quirk works like an aphrodisiac. Basically, you’re in heat, ” she stammered, pink shoulder-length hair bobbing. The fuck? Her eyes flicked around searching for unlikely allies to help her as the rage on Bakugou's face deepened. Unfortunately, the halls had conveniently cleared. Little bitch wasn’t going anywhere –– he would make sure of that.
“And you can’t fucking control it?” He forced out between increasingly labored breaths. Fuck. This was not good. What sort of kinky shit…? He had training later! God fucking dammit!
She was on the verge of tears. “It’s always been an issue around… people I find attractive. It’ll go away in two to three days if you, ah… don’t do anything.”
“I’m going to f-fucking kill you when this passes,” Bakugou tried to say. The warble in his own voice pissed him off. Get it together, you bastard. His face felt flushed, and he did not want to look down at his pants. He needed to get out of here. As the fog in his mind thickened, he realized he was struggling to form coherent thoughts that didn’t involve red hair, red eyes, and a shark-toothed grin.
The seconds ticked on as he attempted to run through options in his head. Recovery Girl wouldn't be of help. Waiting it out himself would be absolute hell. What did animals do in heat again? They… oh, right. They fucked. He could–– okay, don’t get ahead of yourself. Other options…?
“O-oh, and…” she mumbled something he couldn’t make out.
“Say that again, extra.”
“Y-you can, uh… it goes away if you…” she looked awkwardly to the side. Dumbass extra couldn’t even articulate her own damn Quirk. How the hell did she even get into this school? But luckily, a pointed, probably less-than-intimidating glare pushed her over the edge, words tumbling out–– “ifyouhavesex.”
Bakugou just kept staring at her. Gears were turning, and these gears were not in good shape at all. In fact, they were sluggish and lust-addled, turning and churning out quite terrible ideas. One such terrible idea, however, didn’t seem like such a terrible idea. But maybe that was just his horny-wired brain.
He made a decision.
A few clicks had his bzzzzing phone to his ear. Pick up, dammit. He kept a pinning stare on the tearful girl. She better not spill this to anyone.
“Hey, Bakubro!” The familiar voice gave a cheerful greeting. An excited spark fluttered around his stirring stomach at the sound. “Watcha callin’ me for? I’m with Kaminari and Sero. We’re playing––”
“My room. N-Now.” He said before promptly hanging up, not offering any further explanation. And he absolutely did not stumble over his words — he’ll kill anyone who suggests he did. His attention turned back to the cowering girl. “I’ll deal with you after I– deal with– fuck—” an overwhelming wave of heat rolled over him. Sheer willpower kept his knees from buckling. “––your shitty Quirk. D-don’t think I won’t find you.”
He hated the breathless, weak notes in his voice. Why the hell was it him that got hit with these stupid things every damn time? Lady Karma really had it out for him. Deserved, he supposed.
He had to get the fuck out of here. Now. His body felt weak, heat-flushed, and single-minded towards one carnal task. The pink-haired girl’s eyes curiously flicked down to the phone before returning to him and giving one last spare me, please look. Fuck off, extra. Bakugou Katsuki would not be defeated by some shitty –– oh, fucking god that hurt –– nobody’s Quirk.
Stumbling back to the dorms was a task and a half. He passed a few groups of students on his way (the fuck you staring at?) but they just whispered and avoided him like he had a disease. The effects were getting progressively worse. His stomach physically hurt and his entire body ached –– not to mention his dick, which was seriously giving him trouble. Every wrong brush against the fabric of his pants sent a wave of painfully insistent sparks through his entire body. God, this Quirk was really some pervert’s dream. It was Bakugou’s literal nightmare.
“Welcome back, Bak…” Tokoyami trailed off when he saw the state Bakugou was in. Flushed, sweaty, barely standing. “I will call for medical assistance.”
“N-no! Fuck. Do not, I––” He bit his lip to stop a rather unsavory noise from escaping. “I’m handling it.” Having extras flutter around him in this state was just about the worst possible thing.
“Are you sure? It looks––”
“YES! Stop…” Fuck. He staggered closer to the elevator and jabbed at the button frantically. “Fuck off. Please.” Come on. You’re smart, Bird Boy. Don’t be so thick-skulled that you can’t see when a guy just wants you to go the fuck away.
Tokoyami raised his eyebrows but nodded. “I trust your judgment, Bakugou.”
Thank god it was Tokoyami in the hall and not some overactive do-gooder. Or, even worse, someone who was perceptive enough to understand what was happening. The red numbers ticked down so damn slowly. Goddamit. Another wave of heat roiled through him, swirling around in his gut. This one was accompanied by a full-body shudder and he keeled over with a small noise.
“S-Shut it,” he whimpered. Fuck. He really just did whimper that. Get it together, Katsuki. “Leave me alone.”
“I did not say anything.” Tokoyami replied steadily.
Ah… the pain kept getting worse. One hand went to bracing himself on the carpet while his other hand clutched his stomach. He needed… needed… Kirishima. Needed Kirishima. Needed him.
The elevator ding-ed and the door slid open. Finally. He hauled himself inside –– yes, he was still on the floor, what about it? –– and collapsed after reaching up to press the button to his floor.
“Feel better, Bakugou.” The bird said with a curious expression on his face.
He tried to tell him to fuck off, but instead what bubbled to his lips was a weak groan. He hoped Tokoyami would keep his mouth shut until this passed and Bakugou could think of a reasonable excuse. Unfortunately, he couldn’t read the expression on the bird’s face as the elevator doors shut. How the hell was he supposed to read a bird head?! Fucking years spent looking at human faces did not help him one–– oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He writhed on the floor as his stomach erupted in a boiling fire. “Ah––”
God, good thing no one was here.
The elevator doors dinged open and it was all he could do to crawl across the threshold and collapse in a shivering ball on the floor. He needed Kirishima so bad it hurt. He knew he needed him. He was in his room, waiting…
That thought stirred his entire body. He could make it. If he didn’t get there right now, he would die. Needed… needed…
He fumbled with the doorknob and when it opened, he fell inside.
“Woah! Holy shit, dude, what…” A pair of strong arms caught him. Bakugou’s senses were flooded with Kirishima. His scent was indescribable. Delicious. Bakugou wanted to––
Wanted to? He was already doing. His face burrowed deeper into Kirishima’s shoulder, inhaling deeply. It was like a cure for his body. The pain dissipated, the anxiety soothed. His. He was his.
“Are you okay?” Kirishima’s voice floated through the fog in Bakugou’s head.
“N-no,” he mumbled. “Got hit with a dumbass Quirk. Need you to fuck me.”
“W-What?”
“Fuck me.”
“Bakugou, what in the world?”
“I s-said, fu––”
“Yeah, you said to fuck you. I know. But you’re burning up and…”
Fine. He took a shuddering breath. “It’s the Quirk. Works like an animal’s heat or some shit. I don’t know. I just feel so…”
“O-Oh,” Kirishima hesitated. “You’re not in your right mind. I don’t want to––”
Kirishima was too kind. His morals were too pure. Just give into carnal need for fucking once, jeez. Literally. A memory drifted through Bakugou’s addled mind of the redhead forcing Mina to eat his own packed food because she’d forgotten some on a field trip. The girl had protested profusely, but Kirishima had sacrificed to make sure his friends were taken care of. And even though Katsuki would be given a healthy dose of guilt to deal with, he knew exactly how to convince the other to agree.
“It fucking hurts, Kirishima!” He whimpered. God, he sounded pathetic right now. His voice had cracked and he had basically whined that last sentence out.
The arms tightened around him. “I’ll… okay.” Kirishima still looked conflicted, but a wave of determination washed over his features. “If it’ll help you.”
“Mmmm. Please,” he mumbled, nuzzling deeper into his neck. He was done waiting. It wasn’t even like this was out of the ordinary for them — just a little weirder than usual. Bakugou couldn’t count the amount of times he’d busted Kirishima’s door open and boldly announced his intention to get railed within an inch of his life. “Please. Please. Need it. Need you. Just––”
He was cut off by Kirishima pulling him back to press his lips to Bakugou’s. Fuck, it felt so good. It was hot, sweaty, or maybe that was just him, he didn’t know, he just wanted to get closer. He leaned into it greedily, trying to get more, more…
“Let’s move this to the bed,” Kirishima murmured. Bakugou whined at the loss of the sensation. If he’d had any sanity left in him, he would have killed Kirishima for hearing him whine like a bitch in heat. Unfortunately, he was a bitch in heat.
“Fuck me,” he demanded like a broken record. “Fuck me.”
“Y-yeah,” Kirishima’s breath hitched, though his voice was still filled mostly with worry. “We’ll get to that. Can you walk?”
Bakugou only pressed himself tighter to Kirishima’s body. He wasn’t moving. No one would separate him from his mate. Woah, his head was a minefield of weird thoughts right now. Who the hell came up with that dumbass mate thing, because it certainly wasn’t hi––
The floor slid out from under him as a pair of strong, muscular arms lifted him into the air. Bakugou would deny it to hell and back, but that did some serious things to him. His mate, so strong, taking care of him, so–– FUCKING HELL, brain, stop being weird––
He wrapped his legs around Kirishima’s body as he was carried across the room. And if he grinded into him like some horny bastard, sue him. He wanted Kirishima closer. He squeezed tightly and nuzzled into his neck.
The sensation of sheets hitting his back barely registered. What did register, however, was the fact that Kirishima pulled away from his weak grip. “N-No! Ei… where…” he felt hot tears rising to his eyes. He was being so stupid, he knew that logically, but Eijirou just left him. After all the work he went through to be here, now he was left with this full-body ache, this heat boiling inside him, and no Eijirou to help him.
“Woah, are you crying? Hey, calm down. It’s okay. I’m here,” a pair of worried red eyes filled his blurry vision. “I’ve got you.”
Inexplicable joy filled him to the brim. He reached out to grab, but that beautiful face disappeared. Ei…? And just as the sorrow filled him once more, he felt Kirishima’s body reappear over his. A blanket of calm washed over him. Safe.
“Need you,” he whispered –– nope, more like whimpered –– between panting breaths. He couldn’t remember how to move. “Inside. Please.”
Kirishima hesitated. “I… I want to help, but is it really okay with you like this?”
A wave of rage, need, and arousal crashed through Bakugou, pulling him out of the fog in his brain. A moment of clarity hit him. “If you don’t help me right fucking now, I will tear your dick from your body and shove it in me myself.”
“There’s the Bakugou I know and love,” Kirishima rolled his eyes. That previous wave of the heat had ebbed away a bit, giving Bakugou some of his executive functioning back. He could think thoughts other than Kirishima, fuck me, and need. The clouds cleared a bit.
“This… god, this is bad,” he hissed. “I don’t know how long it lasts. It j-just hurts a lot.”
“Okay. I’ll help you.” Resolve steeled, Kirishima leaned down and captured Bakugou’s lips in another searing kiss. His tongue swept inside, calming the needy beast inside Bakugou that wanted to be claimed. God, shut up, brain. You’re so fucking embarrassing.
Kirishima pressed between Bakugou’s splayed legs. He didn’t remember spreading them, didn’t remember entering such a whorish position (body, you betrayed me), but didn’t really care since now Kirishima’s crotch was flush with his ass. It felt right. Please. He let out a soft mewl and pressed into the feeling. Needed it closer, needed it now. Every clash of their lips together sent a shiver of sparks through his body that only added to the river pressing against the dam.
He felt like he would explode, snap, or something would break if Kirishima didn’t fuck him. He needed it. Kirishima broke away slowly and met his eyes, but Bakugou wasn’t having it. “Skip the goddamn foreplay,” he growled, covering his face with a stray arm. “Please. I feel so hot.” His sweaty, patched-with-red skin was evidence of the true lava coursing through his veins. Even though he would heat up while using his Quirk, it never got this bad. Never. He couldn’t handle it.
This was an internal heat, unavoidable. Like his body betraying him and scorching him from the inside. Kirishima flushed red. “Seeing you so… damn. I feel like I shouldn’t be turned on right now.” He murmured, eyes wide as he scanned Bakugou’s face. “You need my cock inside of you.”
“Y-yes,” he whispered. “Please. Need it. Fuck me. Hard.”
“You got it, baby.” And with that, Kirishima trailed kisses down Bakugou’s jaw, neck, chest, ribs, stomach–– until he reached the V leading under his pants. Every touch sent sparkling fireworks shooting through Bakugou’s gut. Oh, and when did Bakugou’s shirt come off? He didn’t remember taking it off. Maybe Kirishima grabbed it.
His pants were quickly and efficiently discarded. A drop of liquid hit Bakugou’s stomach and he realized it was from his own weeping dick. It hurt so bad –– but not as bad as the ache to have something inside of him. “I’m going to have to prep you,” Kirishima warned him. “It might take a bit.”
“N-no,” he squirmed on the bed. “Don’t. I can take it.”
“No. I’m not hurting you.” The finality in the other boy’s voice told him it was non-negotiable.
He whined in frustration. Why wouldn’t he just fuck him already?
But when Kirishima slipped a finger down, he paused. “Did you prep yourself already?”
“W-What? No, you fucker. Ngh–– put it in––” Just having his finger there was sending a terrible ache through his body. It was driving him up the walls.
But Kirishima wouldn’t budge. “You’re already wet down here.”
“The fuck?” The haze in Bakugou’s brain wouldn’t let him think straight. Why did it matter? Good riddance, just fuck me already.
That finger toyed with his entrance, circling it and prodding. It was incredible, but not enough. The stirring beast in his stomach was not satisfied. He needed more. More of Kirishima. More fingers. More. His body involuntarily rocked down, chasing Kirishima’s finger, hungry to have something inside. Damn embarrassing, is what it was. So when that finger finally sunk inside of him, he let out a loud, drawn-out moan of pleasure.
“Yeah, keep mewling, bitch,” Kirishima smirked. “You just want my cock so badly.”
“Mmhhh… want your cock.” He parroted. It was all he could think about. That hot, dripping member inside of him, breeding him. For the millionth time, what the fuck, brain? But he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Kirishima’s cum inside of him, making babies inside of him…
“It’s… weird, but you’re already stretched out. And there seems to be some sort of lube here too.”
“N-ngh… what? Tch, dumbass animal heat shit.” Bakugou said back. He tried his best to keep a normal pitch. “Don’t care. Fuck me.”
His fingers pulled out, leaving Bakugou feeling empty. Tears pricked at his eyes again. He wanted his mate. So bad. Needed it. Needed him. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long, because he soon felt a hot pressure on his hole. “I–I guess you’re already prepped.” The redhead mumbled as Bakugou slurred out another fuck me and tried rocking backwards, “So, I’m gonna p-put it in now.” He gasped. “Okay?”
“Shut the fuck up and fuck m––nnnh!”
He felt so full. So good. He writhed on the bed, his body so hot, sweat rolling down his chest. The heat inside was just what he needed. A hard cock inside of him. Finally. He could be bred. “M-move.” He rocked down, trying to push it deeper inside.
Kirishima pulled out slowly and Bakugou mourned the loss right up until he slammed it back inside, covering the other boy’s vision with stars. He did it again. And again. And every time, Bakugou’s entire body felt full. He could feel it in his stomach, a persistent pressure. He wanted more of that. The view of Kirishima’s focused face, screwed up in concentration and red with lust, hovered over him. Looking down, Bakugou’s hazy vision captured the sight of his dick disappearing inside his hole.
Each thrust was accompanied by a slick noise, the bed springs, Bakugou’s breathy moans, and a low noise from Kirishima. Bakugou’s cock lay dripping on his stomach, straining desperately into the heated air. He could barely think. Kirishima. Mine. Fucking me, his mate. Breed me. Fill me up.
Suddenly, stars filled his vision as Kirishima hit a certain sensitive spot. He let out a particularly loud moan and arched off the bed, gasping. “T-there,” he shuddered. Kirishima grinned and repeated his previous stroke. Bakugou writhed against the sheets. “F-Fuck, s-so good.”
“Yeah? You like that? You like my cock in you?”
“Eijirou,” he gasped. “Harder. Fill me up.”
That seemed to light a fire in Kirishima and he started fucking Bakugou with a new vigor. The pressure in his stomach grew. It tightened, writhed around, and only flamed hotter.
“C-Close,” he whispered. “Mmnnhh, Kirishima, please!”
“G-Gonna fill you up,” Kirishima mumbled. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
His strokes were getting sloppy. Bakugou could tell he was getting close.
“B-Bakugou, I can’t hold on much–– longer,” he gasped.
“Mmnhh… do it.” Bakugou ordered in a less-than-commanding voice. In fact, it was as breathy and high-pitched as his wanton moans.
So, with a low moan, Kirishima sheathed himself inside and a heat filled Bakugou to the brim. He could feel the liquid gush into him. Oh, holy fuck. That finally sent Bakugou tumbling over the edge, too. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled through him, sending him floating through a fog. A boneless relaxation flooded over his senses. He vaguely registered Kirishima flopping down next to him, but with satisfaction, realized he hadn’t pulled out yet. He was so full. Full with his mate’s dick and bred properly.
Oh, boy. You think he’d be used to his brain on this Quirk by now, but these thoughts were really something special. Half of his brain was humming with satisfaction at being filled up and bred while the other half was judging that half. But both halves were still floating on a cloud of pleasure. Fuck you, brain.
The world slowly came back into focus and Bakugou blinked a few times. The heat in his body was receding. His stomach felt fine. Well, more than fine. Full. “I’m going to kill that girl.”
“Mmm… what?” Kirishima mumbled sleepily beside him. “Oh, shoot.” He sat up. “Let me clean you up.”
Bakugou said nothing as his boyfriend rose from the bed to fetch supplies. He came back with a warm cloth and mumbled a sorry, gimme a moment before cleaning out Bakugou’s sensitive hole.
When he finally collapsed next to Bakugou in bed once more, he turned on his side and looked the explosive blond in the eyes. “You wanna explain what happened now?”
“Fuck–– yeah.” He sighed. “Some bitch got me with her Quirk. ’M pretty sure it was an accident.”
“Is she okay?”
“What the hell, Eijirou?”
“It’s a valid question!”
“I don’t know if you noticed, but I was too damn horny to blast her ass to chunks in the hallway. But tomorrow she's going to regret crawling out of the womb.”
Kirishima chuckled and swung an arm over Bakugou’s cooling chest. “You seem to be feeling better now. Can I get you anything?”
“Hmph. Cuddles.”
Unfortunately, the Quirk wasn’t finished with him yet. And, by proximity, with Kirishima, who tried his best to keep up with the Bakugou’s ridiculous Quirk-induced libido. Numerous rounds, two exhausted teens, and a massive mess later, they collapsed and fell asleep on a sinfully stained bed.
That girl would perish, despite giving Bakugou the best (most painful to his ego) night of his life with his boyfriend.
––
“Holy shit, Bakugou, you look like you got absolutely steamrolled by a semi-truck.” Kaminari laughed and rolled around on the couch like an idiot.
Little do you know. A shooting pain in his back reminded him exactly how hard he got steamrolled. Waking up next to Kirishima this morning had been nice, but trying to slide out of bed had not been. He had nearly tumbled to the floor when his legs refused to follow orders. Kirishima had apologized profusely, but Bakugou kind of liked the reminder of their activities.
Not that he would ever admit it.
“Yeah, you good, bro? Tokoyami said ––”
Oh. Shit.
“Stop being so nosy, you extras.” He barked before turning on his heel and stomping (as best as he could stomp) away.
Seems like everything that happened to his body while under the influence of that damn Quirk was amplified afterwards. Even his elbow ached from where he had banged it while lurching back to the dorms. Those nosy extras would figure something was up if he didn't get his act together soon. Unfortunately for him, everything hurt like a bitch. Especially his back, legs, and his ass. God, his ass hurt like hell.
“Oi, Bird brain!” He barreled into the kitchen.
“Ah, Bakugou. Good morning.” Tokoyami was sitting in the kitchen alongside Todoroki and Deku. “Are you feeling––”
“Get your feathered ass over here right now before I––” he considered his next words. His classmate had cared, after all. “––splatter bits of your limbs over the concrete.”
“‘Feathered ass’? I must admit, that’s rather creative.” Tokoyami remarked before following him out of the room. Goddamit, it was supposed to be insulting, not impressing. “But I regret to inform you that I have a regular human ass.”
“Shut your trap.” Bakugou growled as he led them down an empty hallway.
“Is this about yesterday? I admit, I was very worried.”
“Why the fuck did you tell the shitty extras about it!? Look, it was just some random Gen Ed girl’s Quirk. I took medicine and it got better. Got it?”
Tokoyami blinked and simply stared.
“I said, got it?” Bakugou held up his hand and brought a few explosions out for punctuation.
“Yes. Understood.” The bird kept staring.
“Now fuck off.” He spat as he stomped away. Shitty meddling classmate. The last thing he needed was for anyone to find out about this girl’s Quirk and connect the dots to him. Now all he had to do was find that conniving bitch and make sure she shut her trap for good.
––
He couldn’t find her. On his way to the classroom, he’d walked through the Gen Ed wing, but there was no sign of a girl with pink hair. Intimidating a few extras and demanding answers didn’t bear fruit, either.
She was probably hiding from him, well aware of her fate. It didn’t matter –– sooner or later, she’d pay her dues.
“Alright. Today, we are forgoing regular classes and jumping straight into Hero Training. Your assignment is to demonstrate…”
God. Fucking. Dammit!
Did the universe really hate him? Not gonna give his sore, sorry ass time to recalibrate in a classroom chair? Really? Kirishima glanced over and shot him another apologetic look, but he just huffed and glued his eyes to the window in response. He could handle it. He was Katsuki Bakugou, and that fucker with his big fucking dick and stupid stamina wasn’t going to mess with his training.
It was just another hurdle for the future number one hero to overcome. Plus, he was the best. If anyone could take it, it would be him.
So unfortunately, when Aizawa called him over halfway through the day, he knew he was cooked.
“Bakugou. Overtraining is detrimental to your growth.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. The pain had only gotten worse through the day, which was unusual, because that’s not how injuries usually worked for him. “I know.”
Aizawa narrowed his eyes at the boy. “You’re not usually one to overtrain. Did something happen?”
“NO!” He growled. Damn nosy teacher. “Don’t ask me stupid questions!”
A silence rose as Aizawa just stared at him. Shit, okay, maybe Bakugou’s over-the-top response only made it more suspicious.
“If I find out you were fighting again…”
Bakugou let out a hmph, but he was secretly relieved that was the extent of his teacher’s suspicions. “Yeah, yeah, Teach. Got it. Can I go back now?”
“No. You’re dismissed for the day. If you can’t show up ready to train, you shouldn’t show up at all.”
“I’m not fucking weak! I can take it!” His voice rose. He was not weak. He would be number one, he would surpass shitty Deku, he wasn’t going to be beaten by some dumb extra’s Quirk.
“No.”
A few minutes of cursing, shouting, and glaring was only faced with hard-wall answers of no or absolutely not or Bakugou, give it up.
Ugh… after going through all the fucking effort, now he had to face the humiliation of being dismissed halfway through his endurance endeavor. He wasn’t fucking weak. He could handle it, goddammit. How dare Aizawa humiliate him in front of the entire class by acting like he’s a little weakling who can’t power through a little pain. So he didn’t respond, simply turning on his heel to stomp (again, as best he could, trying not to wince) back to the locker rooms. But a voice stopped him before he got very far.
“Oh, and Bakugou? Go see Recovery Girl. I expect to see you in my class tomorrow.”
Tch.
––
He did not go to see Recovery Girl.
Later, the herd of class 1-A students entered the dorms in a bustle of noise and chatter. A few split off to their rooms and a few sank into couches, but to Bakugou’s utter dismay, the nosy group of Mina, Sero, Kaminari, and Kirishima beelined for the couch he had claimed for himself.
“There’s our resident drop-out,” Mina laughed, plopping down on the floor. The guys followed her lead and made a rough circle. Bakugou briefly considered simply leaving, but he knew they’d follow him. “What happened?”
“Shut up. Like I’d tell you.” If word got out about his “injury,” people might connect the dots.
“Oh, c’mon, man. You’ve gotta share. It’s the hottest gossip since Todoroki and Midoriya got together.”
“Don’t mention that shitty nerd!” His shouting caused a few students to glance over. He made a mental note to keep it down, lest he wanted even more extras joining in on this dumb conversation. “Stupid Aizawa thought I was too injured to train. I’m not a damn weakling, I can fucking handle it.”
That clearly sparked more questions than answers for the pushy group, and after another round of questions, they managed to drag out a, “Tch. Shut up, you extras. I was training. Got injured. End of damn story.”
The topic moved on.
Bakugou glanced over at Kirishima. The usually-cheerful redhead was staring down at the floor, lost in thought, with a mopey expression. “Oi, Shitty Hair. Stop frowning.”
Unfortunately, this brought the entire group’s conversation back to him. Oh, what the hell. “Yeah, man, you’ve been kinda down since Bakugou left earlier… don’t tell me you missed him that much.” Kaminari chuckled.
“N-no! I mean, of course, but I just… feel bad. Aizawa was being harsh, don’t you think?” Kirishima responded, glancing between Bakugou and the two boys. No one but Kirishima caught the slight blush on Bakugou’s face at the admission of missing him.
Sero shrugged in response. Mina simply watched, amused, and started laughing. “You look so guilty. Were you the one training with him?” She shook her head. “Dumb boys.”
But unfortunately for his credibility on the issue, the words just sent his neurons firing in all the wrong directions. Images of that night, of Bakugou’s flushed body, his needy whines, his constant (he’ll deny it) moans, incessant drive, pretty body all splayed out under him…
“...Kirishima?”
“Y-yeah?”
“Bro, you’re acting like your mom just caught you stealing cookies.” Sero chuckled. Bakugou scowled. Their cover was going to be blown right off the jar if Kirishima couldn’t keep it together.
“You dumbasses. Get a life. Do you really have nothing better to do?”
“But Bakubro, we’re just curioooouuuus!”
“This is why you’re fucking failing math. Does your mother even love you?”
“Ah! The pain! I am wounded.” Kaminari flopped backwards, pantomiming an imaginary arrow through his heart. What the hell.
“Mmm, let’s leave it alone, guys. They’re just dedicated, I guess. Though it was pretty stupid to train that hard the day before hero classes.” Mina sighed.
“And it was stupid to let you leave the womb.”
––
He can’t find that damn girl. Scanning the lunchtime hallway crowds for a spot of pink hair yielded him nothing. Fucking hell, he has someone to beat up, can’t the universe just cooperate? He doesn’t have all day.
“Let’s just go to lunch, bro.” Kirishima tugs at his sleeve lightly. “You’ll find her eventually. She’s probably hiding from you right now.”
“No. I’m going to find her.” Thankfully, it was day two, and he was no longer hurting. The pain from yesterday had all but disappeared. Thank fuck.
The other boy sighed but stayed by Bakugou’s side, shuffling around. Why was his entire friend group ADHD? Ten (NOT patiently waited) minutes later, Kirishima was giving him the I’m hungry look. It was fucking cute. Shut up, stupid heart, stop actually caring.
“Fine, let’s––” A flash of pink caught his attention. “There!” Fuck, the crowd was thick and people weren’t moving. Why the hell were they just standing around? Shouting, “Move it, extras!” into the crowd seemed to get people to clear a scared path. Good. These losers should fear him.
“What the–– Bakugou, wait! Wait up!” But he wouldn’t wait up. Not when his revenge was so fucking close. He would make her pay no matter what.
“There you are, you bitch.” And with one hand placed firmly on her shoulder, she froze. And looked slowly over her shoulder, color draining from her face.
“U-um, I…”
“You will come with me. And if you don’t, I will make sure you never use this arm again.” He growled in her ear. Not waiting for her fearful nod, he dragged her away. Aizawa would totally chew him out later, but it was worth it as hell.
“B-Bakugou, you…” Kirishima huffed from somewhere still in the crowd. “God, wait up!”
Kirishima jogged to catch up with a worried expression as the hallways Bakugou led them through became increasingly empty. Yes, he knew the traffic of each hallway in the school. What of it? A top hero should have as much intel about their surroundings as possible.
It was outside a small red door with a few faded scritches on it that he finally stopped. A small bit of applied force had her tumbling to the floor. The yelp that escaped her mouth made Kirishima wince –– but unfortunately for his friend, that wasn’t going to be the only one that he wrung from her. Wait, don’t misinterpret that, you dirty-minded fuck. He was going to make her scream in pain.
He was Bakugou Katsuki. Even if he hadn’t cared that much, he still had a reputation to uphold. He couldn’t have some random extra pulling one over on him and living to tell the tale. Plus, someone had to teach her the importance of controlling her Quirk.
“Dude. This is a little messed up.” A warm hand was placed on his shoulder, cutting through some of his icy rage. “Not a manly thing at all. Just talk to her, okay?” The girl looked up the floor, glancing between the two of them. Blinked a few times. And oh fucking no, did she just raise a goddamn eyebrow?
Bakugou glared at her (hopefully) fiercely enough to dispel any conclusions she’d come up with. Unfortunately, the damage was already done, both to his reputation and to his anger. The calm that washed over him at the warm feel of his boyfriend’s hand was solid… and so were the girl’s conclusions about their relationship.
“Tch. You ran your mouth. Now the bitch thinks she fucking knows something. Guess I’ll really have to blow her up now.”
“You should probably just let her go, man. It doesn’t seem like she’s some pervy weirdo. I really think it was an accident.”
“P-please. I’m just a general studies student, I really… I’m not going to say anything, I swear! My… this Quirk has caused enough trouble for me as is, just… please. I’m so sorry.” She begged. Tears began to well up in her eyes.
“Did you never fucking go to Quirk counselling?”
She dragged a pale hand across her face. “N-no, I did. It didn’t work very well.”
“Sounds like you had some shitty fucking Quirk counselors. There are better ones here. You better fucking go to them or I’m going to find you and beat your ass.”
She nodded, sniffling a little bit. Confusion clouded her eyes briefly but relief soon took over. “Yeah. I will. I’m really sorry again.”
Ugh. He hated when people apologized profusely. Just shut the fuck up. So instead of replying, he turned on his heel and headed down the corridor.
––
Night had fallen and the dorms were quiet. People lounged around recharging from the day, talking softly, or doing schoolwork. They were scattered between the kitchen, the common areas, and individual rooms. Bakugou had decided Kirishima’s room was perfect to camp out in away from prying eyes.
“Turn on the TV?”
“Yeah, yeah, bro. If you wanted to play Mario Kart that badly you could’ve asked.”
“Fuckin’ no, Shitty Hair.”
“Then…?”
“Shut the fuck up. You’re about to get your ass kicked.”
“Hmm. So feisty. So different from last night when you were beggi––” He was cut off by a pillow thrown with a personal vendetta into his face. Ouch.
“Holy fuck. You bring that up one more time and I’m dumping your ass.”
“Nah, you wouldn’t. Hmm, what was it you said? Eijirou… want your cock. Oh, Eij––”
“FUCKING SHUT UP!” Bakugou tackled his boyfriend in a heap of indignity. They wrestled around for a bit before flopping on their sides, panting. They both stared up at the peeling paint on the ceiling.
“Hmm. It’s a little weird, though. Why are we getting hit with so many Quirk accidents? It feels like it’s just been us.” Kirishima mused lightly. Bakugou couldn’t help but agree –– it was frustrating as hell and annoying as fuck. If he got into another Quirk accident, he swore he would march his way up to Lady Luck and punch her in the face himself. Tch, it’s not like she could hate him more, anyway.
“Nah, I don’t think it’s just us. We ain’t telling anyone about this one because it’s so fuckin’ weird. So why would other people share?”
Kirishima gasped like that was a revelation. “Woah, bro. How common do you think sexual Quirks are?”
Bakugou couldn’t help but snort. “Like I fuckin’ know. Go ask a pervy government agent or something.” The answering groan he got in response earned another snort.
“Oh my god. Do you think it’s happened to anyone else in our class?”
“Why the fuck are we talking about this again?”
“Ugh, I’m serious! Oh, I bet Mina would know all the juicy details. We should ask her.”
“No, you’re gonna ask her. I ain’t askin’ shit about stupid gossip.”
“You seriously don’t wanna know?”
“Hell no. Keep me out of it.”
“But Katsuki…”
“Oi. And you better not tell her about our Quirk thing. Or us.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He rolled his eyes at his prickly blond (yet very lovable) boyfriend. “But… y’know, would it be so bad? Like, to tell people? About us?”
At this, Bakugou turned to stare at him directly. There was a serious glint to his ruby-red (gorgeous) eyes when Kirishima bravely met his searching gaze. “It’s a weakness for villains to target.”
“Mm. I guess… but what about our close friends? They wouldn’t tell anyone. And…” Kirishima felt a small blush rise at the thought of his next sentence, “...don’t you wanna be able to cuddle and kiss in front of them? Like during that movie night? I wanted to hold your hand on top of the blanket.” He looked Bakugou deep in the eyes at this, knowing the power of his puppy eyes. His moms had told him from a very young age that he was absolutely excellent at it, and he intended to fully capitalize on it.
“Fuckin’... tch. Is that really what you want? They’re gonna be annoying as shit about it.”
“Yeah. I do. And they won’t be that bad,” he smiles at the mere thought of his friends congratulating them on their relationship. “They’re our friends. They’ll be supportive.”
Bakugou fell silent. Between smooth breaths, Kirishima could hear the unspoken ‘they will be that bad’. Yeah, he would acknowledge that they’d be absolutely insufferable for at least the first week. But that just meant Bakugou and Kirishima had to rise to the challenge of being even more insufferable –– something he knew his blond boyfriend would absolutely revel in.
But as the seconds ticked by and a response didn’t come, Kirishima’s anxiety slowly rose. Had he pushed too far? He knew Bakugou was a very private person to begin with, and it was honestly a miracle he’d been able to worm his way past the boy’s mile-high walls in the first place. It fucking blew his mind he managed to date him and that he’d gained so much trust. It was so unusual that despite the strong foundation of their relationship, he was worried. He didn’t know what was going through Bakugou’s head right now. For all Kirishima knew, it was the best way to break off their relationship. Was this why he was so closed off? He couldn't handle getting close to people because he knew…
“Oi. Shitty Hair. Stop fucking thinking. I can hear your thoughts from over here.”
He was glad Bakugou had cut him off because that’d been a pretty dangerous spiral. “A-ah, sorry. Um, so you’re uncomfortable with telling them?”
“Shut up. I haven’t said anything yet.”
“...So you’re not?”
“I said, shut up! I haven’t decided yet!” This statement was punctuated with a playful nip to Kirishima’s neck. And if that devolved their mental session into a more… physical session, well, sue them. They were teenage boys, after all.
––
Saturdays were Bakugou’s favorite day. Saturdays were the days he allowed himself a break from his ruthless schedule –– meaning, no schoolwork allowed. Just his usual morning workout and then some all-day rest and relaxation followed by a very light evening workout (just to burn off extra energy before bed). It was important to keep a day like that on the schedule to avoid burnout.
Unfortunately for his prized downtime, he was dragged into spending (wasting) it watching his group of idiots play (fail) some platformer game. He made sure to grouch about it a proper amount to Kirishima, the one who had dragged him here, but in actuality, it wasn’t so bad. The phone in his hand was a worthy form of parallel play for when he just didn’t want to pay attention to their mindless screeches anymore.
And maybe –– just maybe –– these losers were fun to hang out with. At least they were entertaining sometimes. And maybe the light coming in from the window was really nice and definitely helped his mood. Oh, and he felt clean from the thorough shower he’d taken…
It was a nice morning.
“Urghhh, Bakubro, please. C’mere, Kami’s kicking my ass.” Kirishima groaned from the floor. Bakugou had taken the entire couch to lounge sideways across with a fierce huff. Everyone knew better than to challenge him on it.
“Hah! Beaten by that loser Dunce Face? No way. You deserve it.”
Kaminari protested that’s so mean!, but no one paid him mind. Everyone was focused on Kirishima’s next line in his quest to convince Bakugou, King of Kicking Ass (self-given title), to help him. “Oh, please? Pretty please? You’re my only hope.”
Bakugou smirked. “Really?”
“O Great Savior, Light of my Gaming Life, I beg of thee, please come save me!” Kirishima dramatically swung his arms out in a pose, causing Sero and Mina to dissolve into giggles atop their pile of blankets.
“Guess I’ll fuckin’ help the poor peasants of my Kingdom with a little charity.”
Kirishima cheered. Bakugou thought the joy lighting up his face was fucking cute as hell and he fought the immediate urge to smoosh his cheeks together and plant a kiss on the redhead’s lips. God, he fucking loved his boyfriend so much. Not that he’d ever let these embarrassing-as-hell thoughts escape his brain. He’d fucking kill anyone he ever came across with a mind reading Quirk.
He wanted to hug his boyfriend so badly. But he couldn’t because they’re with… huh. With the group. The conversation he had with Kirishima last night echoed in his mind.
Bakugou slid off the couch and padded over to Kirishima, sliding two hands in his hair before plopping down behind him. He felt the redhead jump slightly at the surprise contact before melting into it, leaning back against Bakugou’s chest. His hair was soft and Bakugou didn’t want to let go, but he finally did in order to casually slide his arms down to hook them around the redhead’s waist.
Fuck. His heart was pounding. “Now I’ll show you how it’s done.” His words didn’t come out as steady or confident as he’d wanted them to be. He was shot full of adrenaline, nerves, and excitement. Shitty fucking feelings. He grabbed the controller from Shitty Hair’s hands and began fiddling with it in Kirishima’s lap.
That’s when he noticed the group had gone silent. “Bakugou is being affectionate.” Kaminari war-whispered. “Has anyone here literally ever seen him be affectionate?”
“He can hear us, you know.” Jirou (smart, smart Jirou) chimed in.
“Yes, I can hear you fucking morons.” Bakugou growled. Tch. And put his head down on Kirishima’s shoulder. Hah, he could see the bright red tinge on the tips of the redhead’s ears. His redhead’s ears. His. “You wanna die today?”
“Aw, chill out, Blasty!” Mina giggled, throwing herself across the coffee table to blink at Bakugou up-close. “We’re just playing around. It’s fine if you wanna hug your boyfriend.”
The entire group’s inhale of pure fear was simultaneous. Kaminari whispered something along the lines of Mina, what kind of flowers do you want at your funeral? But Bakugou, on the other hand, froze. This was it. The moment. He knew they would be supportive. He knew that. So why was he being such a fucking pussy about it? He thought of his hero career, his friends, Kirishima. Everything. It meant nothing if he wasn’t unapologetically himself. It was kind of his whole brand, after all.
Just do it. He’s your boyfriend. Fucking own it. So, he tightened his arms around Kirishima’s waist.
“I can do whatever the fuck I want whenever the fuck I want, Alien Sperm,” Bakugou snarled, breaking a good ten seconds of tense silence. “Especially to my boyfriend. So get your fuckin’ eyes off him.”
Silence. Then––
“WHAAAT?!”
It was like smacking an excitable hornet’s nest with a big stick. The group swarmed them. Explosions ensued. When the dust had cleared, all that was left was a pile of their friends and Mina’s outstretched arm. Bakugou snorted, arms still lazily wrapped around his boyfriend’s waist. “Morons.”
“Blasty, you ––” Mina huffed, “you can’t just say something like that and expect us to… to…”
“TO COPE!” Kaminari shrieked from somewhere in the pile of lightly toasted limbs. Bakugou frowned.
“We’re really happy for you guys!” Mina rushed, interpreting the frown as rejection. “But you have to tell us everything. How dare you keep this a secret!” She pouted, poking a finger at them.
“Tch. Get up first and maybe I’ll consider it.”
Kirishima had stayed silent during this whole flurry of activity, which was making Bakugou worry. He scooted forward and hung his head over his shoulder. “Shitty Hair?” He prodded quietly, looking sideways at the redhead’s face.
But Kirishima wasn’t staring back at him. His eyes were lost somewhere in the distance. “Oi, Shitty Hair,” Bakugou tried again, frowning. This time, Kirishima startled and looked down to meet his boyfriend’s eyes. Fuck, was it too soon? Bakugou had just… taken the lead, because Kirishima had said he wanted to share this with their friends.
“S-sorry,” the redhead startled, looking to the side to meet his boyfriend’s eyes. A smile took over his face. “I’m glad you told them.”
That precious, beautiful smile made all of Bakugou’s doubts jump out the window. And in that moment, he knew he was forever smitten. He would fight the world for this idiot –– his idiot –– thousands of times over.
“Yeah,” Bakugou nodded quietly. “Me too.”