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With a Bang

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Katsuki sat up with a gasp and choked on air, gripping his neck to make sure it hadn’t actually been broken. After adjusting his eyes to the dim light of the moon beaming in through his window, he began to pant a little softer, laying his face down on his bed and sighing. He tasted salty moisture under him, and realized that streaks of it were coming from his eyes. He propped himself up on his elbow and wiped his face with his other hand, groaning and flipping his pillow over.

But he knew he wasn’t going to get back to sleep.

Most of his nights had gone like this since he’d been freed from the League of Villains’ grasp, and that had been almost three years ago. Every night his brain tricked him into thinking he was back there, Shigaraki’s hand firmly holding his throat, the other villains teasing his demise as well. Some nights he was disintegrated, some nights he was just choked until his neck snapped.

Tonight it was the latter.

But in all, he always died.

Groggily, he rose from his bed, comfortably scratching then adjusting himself in his boxers, and yawning as he walked out of his room. Instinctively, he went for his parent’s room, but their bed was empty, so he decided to look for them downstairs. The TV was on, casting a blue glow into the hallway, and he heard his parent’s voices. His father laughed tenderly, no doubt at something his wife said, before he heard his son’s dragging feet.

“Katsuki,” Masaru turned around and addressed him surprised, wondering if he needed anything.

“Wha’tha fuck‘re ya doin’ up this late?!” Mitsuki yelled, quickly being shushed by her husband. She mumbled something profane before quickly apologizing with a giggle. The two were obviously drunk. “Go backta bed!”

Usually Katsuki would venomously retort with something about him being a grown man or them being awake too, but he said nothing as he approached the couch, turning around and plopping his large form down heavily. He ended up crushing Mitsuki‘s leg and making her spill her wine, curses slipping past her lips at him. His parents separated to make room for him, and much to their surprise, he leaned under his mother’s arm and put his feet in his father’s lap, gentle snores coming from him seconds after. The two looked at each other, confused and astounded at the behavior he hadn’t exhibited since he was a child.

They knew he’d been having sleeping trouble, more than usual lately, and they’d even heard him scream himself awake sometimes, but he had never done anything like this. The two of them were visibly worried. Was he alright? Did he even know what he was doing right now?

Masaru reached for his wife’s hand, and the two sat still until their son was deep enough in sleep for his father to coax him back to bed.


“Alright! Is that everything?” Mitsuki asked her husband as he hauled another black suitcase to the door.

“I think so, honey,” Masaru answered calmly as he wiped the sweat from his brow with a rag, even though he hadn’t lifted that much down the stairs. It was definitely going to be a hot weekend.

She turned to Kirishima, who she had asked to arrive unannounced as a surprise to her son. “Eijirou, would you be a doll and get Katsuki from his room? We’re gonna head out soon.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, maybe a little too eagerly. He paced up the stairs, immediately knowing where he was going because he’d been here countless times over the past few years.

Katsuki‘s room, which had the same big explosion sticker slapped on it since their first year, with the words ‘Knock or Die’ on it in fiery font, was at the end of the hall, past his parent’s bedroom and the guest bed and bathroom. Kirishima knocked firmly, and after hearing no response, hardened his fingers to knock a little louder. Still no answer. He knew he shouldn’t have, but he tried the knob anyway, finding it to be unlocked as he pushed the door open. Katsuki was on his bed, his shirtless back facing the door.

“Oi,” Kirishima called out to him, only to receive no answer other than heavy snores.

He stayed in the doorway for a moment, taking the liberty to inspect his friend’s room. It’s not like he hadn’t seen it before, but he had hoped it wouldn’t show signs that his friend wasn’t mentally or emotionally feeling well. He’d been extremely withdrawn since his kidnapping in their first year, and he knew his stubborn ass hadn’t been seeking any counseling with Aizawa or anything like that, so the red-head was determined to be whatever he needed for as long as they’d know each other.

And if that was up to Kirishima, it’d be as long as possible.

Scanning the room, he could see that the desk was a little untidy, a pencil cup toppled over and some papers spread about on the floor. There were a few clothes draped over his desk chair, and Kirishima could see that his laundry was overflowing a bit, as it was on the floor in the doorway leading to his bathroom. Usually, Bakugou always kept his room clean and presentable, but it seemed as if he had stopped caring so much. Not that Kirishima minded, since his room was not much better, but it did make him feel a ping of concern. His friend always seemed relatively okay, despite everything, but he certainly needed to do something about his withdrawal from everything and everyone.

Kirishima tiptoed over to the bed before gently standing over his friend, rolling him on his back and dropping down hard to straddle his waist. Katsuki was wide awake now, the force of a body with similar mass to his own knocking the wind out of him. Upon seeing his sharp-toothed friend, he yanked a red earbud out.

“Kirishima, what the fuck?!” Katsuki wheezed.

“Afternoon, Sleeping Beauty.” He snickered his reply, then caught his friend’s quick blush at their position, before he was roughly rolled off to the side.

“You’re a piece of shit, you know that?”

No doubt for reminding him of the time their hands ended up down each other’s pants after training.

Kirishima was never bothered by that memory, though.

The intruding young man smirked at the thought. “You never let me forget it.”

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” Katsuki oozed annoyance when he spoke, but he knew this spiky-haired shit wasn’t buying it. The red-head turned towards him, propping his head up on his palm.

“You’re mom called me over.” He gave him a smirk, and Bakugou found it incredibly hard not to blast it off his mug. He didn’t want to face his mother’s wrath for using his quirk in the house. “She told me to tell you to come kiss her goodbye.” He hardened his skin before he made a kissy face at him.

Yeah, this fucker knew what was coming.

He was given an immediate blast that forced him off of the bed. Bakugou couldn’t help it.

“Asshole,” he mumbled while calmly patting out the small fires on his sheets, earning another snicker from the floor. After getting up and stepping onto Kirishima’s stomach to give him a taste of his own medicine, the two headed to the living room, where Katsuki spotted his mother dressed in a sun hat, bathing suit, and a beach wrap around her waist.

“You guys aren’t gone yet?” He asked in an irritated tone, even though deep down he wasn’t super psyched about being all by himself. He was secretly grateful that his mother called over his friend to hang around, because there was no way he was going to do it himself.

Mitsuki gestured for her son to come over, to which he replied with an eye roll and a head shake. He wasn’t going to be embarrassed even further in front of Eijirou; the guy already seemed to have been appointed his unofficial babysitter for the next few days, and Katsuki could feel the absolute fucking mirth radiating off of him when he saw his annoying face. She beckoned him again, this time adding a ferocious glint in her eye that Katsuki knew all too well. He angrily stormed over to be pulled down and assaulted by his mother’s numerous kisses, and after he heard Kirishima fighting back laughter, he roughly pried himself away from her.

His father gave him a firm shoulder pat—which he shrugged off—before loading the last bag in the car. Mitsuki admitted to herself that over the past few years, she hadn’t ever felt 100% comfortable with leaving her only baby boy by himself since he was kidnapped, especially after the unconscious stunt he pulled the night before. She voiced her concerns to her husband, and he reminded her that their son suggested the getaway himself, and his friend would be with him the whole time.

Still, she felt uneasy, as mothers do.

Kirishima picked up on it, and assured her that not one eye would leave Katsuki’s sight. That earned a growl from his sandy-haired companion, which he ignored because he knew he probably wouldn’t hit a friend in front of his parents.

“Y’know, Katsuki could just come over to my house? My dad and brothers will be there, so we won’t be alone. Plus, I think he’ll sleep a lot better if he’s away from home for a while.”

His friend whipped his head towards his mother, eyes burning. “You told him?!”

“Nah, you just did. I had a feeling you weren’t sleeping very well.” Katsuki fumed, embarrassed that he’d fallen for one of this stupid rock’s traps.

“You’re dead.”

Mistuki laughed, ignoring the murderous glare her son was shooting his friend. “Well, I think it’s time we head out.” She looked to her husband, who silently nodded in agreement, and then back to the two boys. “You guys have fun, okay?” They turned to leave before she stopped one last time. “Katsuki?”

Whaaat?” He groaned.

“Go pack your bag.” The evil look was back in her eye, and it took everything in him not to crumble under the pressure.

Why? He’s my roommate. I already spend too much time with him during school as it is. Can’t I get one moment without this asshole?”

She was in front of him in an instant, his cheeks being squeezed firmly in her hand. “Don’t disrespect our guests, boy. Plus, I don’t want you cooped up in here alone this weekend, you hear me?” He ripped away from her grasp and rubbed his face, fighting an embarrassed flush.

“I wasn’t planning on stayin’ here anyway!” He punched Kirishima’s arm after his mother closed the door, then paced by his friend to go back upstairs to pack.

Dude,” Kirishima started, “Your mom is crazy hot when she’s mad.”

“I will literally kill you.”


After they made it to Eijirou’s house, the majority of that day was spent deflecting Bakugou’s rude comments about the state of his room, and trying to teach him how to play God of War. He was bad at every other video game he had shown him before, but for some reason, as the red-head expected, this one had resonated with the blonde the most.

“Geez, you have to slow down and aim the axe, bro.” The red-head flinched as the health bar diminished more and more with each missed swing.

“Shut the hell up, shithead!” Katsuki replied as he somehow managed to kill another horde of Draugrs. “Still did it.”

“Oh wow, you beat the tutorial enemies in what was possibly the longest amount of time! Great job!” Before he received a punch, he ducked. Katsuki cursed the amount of time he’d willingly spent with this dumbass in high school. His moves were starting to become predictable. “Yo, pause the game, I need your help with something.” With an annoyed grunt, Katsuki obliged, then followed Kirishima downstairs to the kitchen.

“With what?”

“Throwing a party!” He stepped to the side and revealed ingredients of all kinds, fresh and canned and boxed, and looked like he couldn’t be more proud of himself for assembling a random assortment of edible shit.

“A party for who?”

“For our class, duh. We’re starting our second year of college soon! And...” Kirishima trailed off, wondering if his prepared words were going to get his friend to open back up and talk to him about whatever was going on.

What, Kirishima?”

“Well, you...Dude you—you’ve been...” He had to be honest, as sincere as possible, because he knew Katsuki appreciated those consistent traits about him. He took a deep breath before continuing. “This party is...more for you. I’m not going to lie and say that I haven’t noticed how you’ve changed these past few years after...everything. You don’t talk to anyone, you make sure your classes don’t line up with a lot of us, and you don’t even text me as much anymore. And I don’t think it’s unmanly for me to be concerned about you. We’re roommates, and I hardly ever see you aside from when you head out for the day. Or when I bug you to make sure you’re alive.” Katsuki stood against the kitchen sink, his arms tightly crossed on his chest and his eyes downcast. He didn’t think he’d get this talk from Eijirou of all people. He thought at least this guy knew how to respect his boundaries, feeble as they seemed against him. “I know something’s up, man. Or, um...Well, I just know you’re different now, anyway. I just...want you to know that you can talk to me. Or someone else. Just don’t bottle it all up, which I know you’re doing.”

The blonde closed his eyes to take a moment to compose himself, because the emotion that was ringing the loudest in him right now was rage. His mother’s harsh words on his temper echoed through his mind, but the urge to destroy everything around him and scream with all his might was burning at the top of his skin, and Kirishima could see that based on the thick tendrils of smoke coming from his fists. He needed to change the subject. To something a little less pointed at his friend. He didn’t want him to feel cornered.

Katsuki was way ahead of him, as a calm question quickly popped into his head. “Where are your brothers? And your old man?”

Obviously his friend had lied to his mother about the two of them not being alone, but it was with good reason, because she wouldn’t have agreed to him coming over after the sleepwalking last night. It wasn’t even that big a deal, but he knew her too well. That woman could be just unbearable sometimes.

“Oh...” Kirishima was extremely disappointed, as he’d thought that maybe showing his concern for his sandy-haired friend would spark this intense outpouring of honesty from him, and that obviously wasn’t going to happen. “Kazuo and Hisoki are on some corporate retreat...thing. And my dad took Bo on a summer fishing trip. I stayed behind ‘cause I hate fishing. Makes me smell real bad.”

“As if you don’t already.”

Ha ha. So will you help me or not?”


“Please, dude?”


“But I don’t know how to cook anything on my own!”

“So why did you buy all this crap?!”

“Because I thought you’d be a good friend and agree to make something for the party!”

“There’s a difference between a good friend and a caterer, you idiot!” Small explosions erupted in his palm, but as usual, Eijirou wasn’t phased.

“Can you at least show me how to make something?” The red-head clasped his hands together and pleaded.

“Suck my dick,” Bakugo said and flipped him off, turning to exit the kitchen. Suddenly, Eijirou rushed in front of him and leaned in close to him.

“...Is that a request, or a challenge?” He asked honestly, but a little playful.

“Tch.” He pushed his head over as he passed, knocking his spiky-haired friend to the counter. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“I’m 100% serious, man.” He stood up straight and rubbed his head. “I know you remember that time we were fighting in the locker room freshman year, and then you kissed me and I—“

He grabbed Kirishima’s shirt and roughly pulled him close. “First of all, you kissed me, you fuckin’ perv(Bakugou definitely kissed first). And second, why the hell would you bring that up?! I’ve been tryin’ very hard to forget about that so we can stay friends and I won’t have to deal with you whinin’ like a bitch if I drop you.”

“Look man,” his friend threw his hands up and smiled slyly, “you seem to be the only one who has a problem with what happened.” Kirishima always found this to be funny, as Bakugou hadn’t pushed him away for a while during the experiment. Yet he never ceased to complain whenever it was brought up. “I was just presenting a possible exchange for you helping me make sure this party is somewhat enjoyable for our,” he gestured between them then repeated himself, “our friends. They’re super excited to try your cooking again. What are they gonna say when they find out you flaked out on all of us?” Kirishima knew he’d got him with that, because keeping his word was something that Katsuki made sure he was extremely diligent at.

“You’re deplorable.”

“Yet you still hang out with me.”

The blonde groaned angrily. “When does this fuckin’ thing start?” His sharp-toothed friend grinned as he looked at his watch, feeling triumphant in his victory.

“In like two hours.”

Katsuki growled and shoved him out of the kitchen. “Dipshit.”

“You’re the best, man! Seriously!”

“I don’t want to see your stupid fucking face for the next two hours.”

“Understood.” Kirishima was beaming. “By the way, offer still stands!” He ducked out of the way of his angry friend’s fist with a cackle, then ran to start tidying up the place for the get-together.

Chapter Text

As Katsuki tried to prepare a ridiculous amount of food using up the random ingredients Kirishima bought too much of, he had a back and forth with himself about if he should just book it. This absolutely wasn’t something he’d enjoy in the slightest. least cooking was nice.

He would never admit it out loud, but cooking was one of his favorite ways to pass time. Whenever he stood in front of a stove or an oven, boldly trying new combinations or just making some real basic shit to eat, it reminded him of when he would stand next to his mother while she taught him how. She’d always set up a small step ladder, and make him watch and repeat her actions before dinner. Sometimes reciting recipes correctly was the only way he got to eat, but besides that, it was really about being a part of who she was in the Bakugou household.

It was immortalizing, in a way.

And he didn’t have to think about anything. He could just go on auto-pilot for a while.

As usual, Katsuki lost himself as he cooked, and a bit of grilled chicken paid the price at Kirishima’s hands. That did not go unnoticed.

“If I see your fucking fingers again, I’m cutting them off,” he called nonchalantly into the house, not skipping a beat with slicing and de-seeding jalapeños. Hearing no witty response from the red-head satisfied him.

As he pressed on, the scent of the fresh basil he was crushing rushed into his nose. It was one of his favorite aromas, and he even took the liberty of always smelling it at markets, even if he wasn’t going to buy any. Next, he needed to start the bacon. His mother’s voice echoed in his head. The trick to getting it crispy enough to crumble was to start with a cold skillet and a bit of cold water, otherwise you’d end up with brown crisp before the fat really got to melt away. Then you’d either have to keep simmering until the bacon burned just to cook the fat, or just stop and deal with flimsy bacon.

None of that was going to fly, because this needed to be perfect.

A part of him really wanted to grill some pineapple steak strips, but then he remembered he liked to marinate his steak the night before.

But...who was he even trying to impress?

His peers?...

Yeah, these bastards weren’t his friends. He didn’t want friends. Didn’t need ‘em.

Friends were among the list of things that could be potential weaknesses for a hero.

At least, that’s what he told himself so he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone anymore.

He’d adopted this mindset after making it home alive. He swore that if he did, he wouldn’t get close to anybody anymore. Just hearing how much everyone had worried about him, how hard they fought for him...and what All Might did—what he gave up...Countless times Bakugou had been told it wasn’t his fault, that what happened was bound to happen eventually, but it did nothing to remedy how shitty and responsible he felt for everything. All of it was enough to make him not want to do that to anyone ever again, nor have it so he’d go through those same emotions because of someone else. And so began the almost three year streak of ducking and dodging texts, calls, party invites, study sessions, carpooling, schedule syncing, and doing just about anything to make sure these assholes got the picture.

It had only truly been successful in the last year, but Kirishima seemed to be the only one who couldn’t take a hint.

Or he just didn’t care. It was probably that.

He’d stuck around, even though Bakugou had yelled at him and cursed at him and even fought him once.

The two had just gotten out of first-year hero trials, and the blonde had been so distracted by his thoughts that he’d almost blasted his partner through a building. Kirishima was ready to tear him to shreds in the locker room, and after rolling around with bruised eyes and cut cheeks, Katsuki had opted to smashing his lips onto his friend’s. It quickly turned to angry, desperate tugs at each other over their costumes, and that was just enough to ease the pressure Katsuki didn’t know was pooling between his legs. The anger and heat and just raw adrenaline took over, that’s what happened.

They got each other off, and it wasn’t anything more.


He was not going to think about that right now.

Though he’d give that motherfucker a hot piece of his mind every time he decided to bring it up.

But even still, he wouldn’t back down. Kirishima wouldn’t let the prideful firecracker isolate himself, and the latter was kind of grateful for it. He called often, even though it was rarely answered. Sometimes Katsuki’s dorm key would ‘go missing,’ and he would have to call on the redhead to get back inside through his room, which subjected him to an update on things he had been avoiding. He would text random, stupid shit. Every. Fucking. Day. Like articles and quizzes or crap like that(he did like the memes, sometimes). And the time of day didn’t matter; you were guaranteed to get an unsolicited ping at some point or another. It was like being subscribed to a junk folder moderated by Eijirou Kirishima. He had even managed to charm the pants off of his mother, so he was always welcome at the house. There had been too many pop-ins over the years for his liking. And it didn’t matter how bad Katsuki thought of himself, or how hard he pushed people away, or how much he was convinced his family and everyone around him would be better off if he just disappeared.

There was no escaping the Red Riot.

Katsuki frowned and rolled his eyes at the thought, but he was fighting a smirk.

He was, undoubtedly and unconditionally, loved by his very best friend.

Oh my god.” The young man in question had appeared behind him. “Is it possible to have an orgasm from a smell?”

“I suggest you find out from over there.” The threat was received, and Kirishima fought the urge to go further into the kitchen to get a look at everything. When he inhaled, he could smell like fifty different things going on. Even though he still couldn’t cook, his sense of smell had definitely been enhanced by having dinner with the Bakugou family often.

“You are, like, a culinary hero, bro.”

Katsuki scoffed. “I’m a culinary god.” Though the redhead’s compliment had made him feel nothing but illumination inside. Kirishima could see it, and it made him smile to experience pieces of his friend—the ones that had been gone for so long—slowly starting to come back.

But when the doorbell rang, all that bravado quickly washed down the garbage disposal, along with the stems and cuttings of basil and jalapeño.

When Kirishima saw Bakugou grip the edge of the sink, he gave a soft sigh. He knew getting his friend back to his old self would take some work, but seeing just how quickly the switch could be turned off was disheartening. He disappeared to answer the door, and when it was opened, Katsuki could hear the small flood of chatter suddenly filling the house. He felt his heart begin to pound in his ears, and his hands start to shake.

Chill out.

He tried, so that he could continue cooking then maybe slink off somewhere unnoticed. He was out of practice and out of touch talking to these people, and there was no doubt that everyone would be all over him; asking him where he’d been, and what he’d been doing, and how he’d been doing, and what he’d cooked tonight, and—aaggghhhh...No way. He couldn’t tell by the voices who or how many had arrived, since his body’s usual reaction to more than two people talking even remotely near him was next to debilitating.

Just don’t be available.

He frantically fished his headphones out of his pocket and plugged them into his ears. There wasn’t enough time to actually choose something to listen to, but he figured as long as people saw his occupied ears they wouldn’t bother him. Especially if he was cooking. He could still hear the muffled conversation, but the headphones gave him a sense of ease. Though they were off, they were still a gateway to a world of his own that he could visit whenever he wanted. There were no mistakes in his music. Every song he loved was perfect, and that little perfect collection was his escape.

“Bakugou, it’s so good to see you!”

Of course Ponytail would be the first to arrive. He wanted to check his watch, though he already knew the princess was early as fuck; plus he didn’t want to show any kind of reaction at the moment in case she thought he heard her. Katsuki knew she had walked into the kitchen behind him, but luckily she backed off after noticing he ‘probably couldn’t hear her.’

Damn, he felt like a fucking coward.

But what else was he gonna to do?

Give up his solitary cooking time to probably fumble at having an extremely taxing conversation?

No way in hell.

He was content just finishing this food for the group of extras in his life, and then hiding chilling out in Eijirou’s room for the rest of the night. Maybe he could even search for his older brother’s leafy stash they were always singing praises about...

Now that was a plan.

“Bakugou.” Fucking fuuuuuck. “Bakugou.” The blonde was now starting to regret that he hadn’t cared to remember when Kirishima told him that Bob the Builder and Katy Perry here were dating now. That meant—and he knew this from observing their interactions in high school—that once they started dating, one would always be in tow of the other. He was just pissed off that he hadn’t had the time to put that together after hearing Yaoyorozu show up. “Bakugou.” Todoroki lightly slapped Katsuki’s shoulder, making him jump in surprise with a shout. “I’m sorry.”

He ripped out his earbud and whipped around, nostrils flaring. “Could you just follow your girlfriend next time?! I had my earphones in and she got the message. There was literally no reason for you to come talk to me. Like, at all.” Todoroki blinked at him for a second before speaking calmly.

“I did follow her.” He looked over to Momo, who had quietly made her way to the small table in the corner, probably to patiently wait until Katsuki noticed her presence. She had an awkward smile on her face as she twiddled her thumbs, and that’s when he noticed that he’d just exposed his cowardly ways.

He sighed and slid his hand down his face, mumbling a quiet “fuck” into his palm.


Waiting for the time the party was actually supposed to start, the two pairs sat in painful silence after running through the normal topics of small talk.

Katsuki wanted to die.

He’d much rather be in the kitchen finding something else to make, or even back upstairs trying to get the hang of that game Kirishima showed him earlier. He had also spotted a drum kit in his friend’s garage, but that would attract attention. It seemed the only option was to stay and suffer.

“So, Bakugou,” Momo began. Great, more meaningless chatter to partake in. “What classes have you signed up for this year?”

“Uh...” He lulled his head back onto the couch. “Citizen Psych, Hero Psych, Power Control. That’s what I got into so far,” he stated lowly and crossed his arms.

He’d been in that last class for the past two fucking years now, and he was seriously getting tired of it. Granted, Aizawa kept putting him in it because he refused to use his full power, but why that was wasn’t anyone’s business but his own.

“Oh!” There seemed to be a bit of light in her voice now. “Shouto is taking Power Control again this year, too! guys can take it...together? Y’know, like carpool and stuff?” Oh, this poor girl was trying so hard. Maybe Kirishima put her up to it. Her boyfriend put a hand on her exposed shoulder, giving her a gentle smile that definitely said ‘abso-fucking-lutely not.’

That went double for Bakugou.

“Well, I’m in the 7 A.M. class. So if he can get his ass up at the crack of dawn, I’m sure I’ll see him.” No one liked early classes, that was a universal truth; so Bakugou had reluctantly forgone waking up at the pleasant hours of anytime-past-noon just to make sure he didn’t run into anyone.

“Ah, probably not then. Shouto hates getting up before 9.” She softly laughed and caressed the back of his head, the affection making Half-and-Half visibly uncomfortable because his cheeks tinted and he just laced their fingers together in his lap.

Katsuki was going to laugh, but his attention lingered on their grasp, and he had to know.

He sighed. “So,” he tried to make himself sound as uninterested as possible, even though he was dying to know what went down when these two awkward fucks finally admitted their more than obvious feelings for each other. “When—How did this thing happen?” He gazed at them through his lashes and lazily waved his finger in a circle toward the two.

“Well...” Momo turned to give Todoroki a sweet smile, and Bakugou was already about to tune out until he caught Icy-Hot going red.


Was this it?

Was this the moment he’d finally be interested in this so far bullshit conversation? Was he going to actually see Half-Burning Man lose his shit over something?

The aforementioned young man cleared his throat. “I-It’s not a very interesting story.”

Of course not.

“Oh hell, I’ll tell the damn story!” Kirishima butted in, seemingly grateful he had a place in the conversation now.

“Y-You were there?” Todoroki now sounded panicked, and Katsuki quietly gave thanks to whichever gods blessed him with such a loud-mouthed friend.

“Shouto,” Eijirou feigned surprise at the question. “Almost everybody was there.” Yaoyorozu looked completely shocked that she’d forgotten too, and Bakugou leaned up from his lulled position to listen intently. “So, we’re over at Momo’s place studying,” on cue, the raven-haired girl hid her face in her hands, “and we hear this really terrible feedback coming from outside. Momo gets up to check it out, and she lets out this huge gasp, so we all get up too. Shouto Todoroki is outside in red and white suspenders and really fancy pants—“

“Who started this fancy-pants thing? They were not. Fancy,” Shouto clarified sternly.

“Yeah, yeah, sure they weren’t, Fancy Pants.” That earned the redhead a glare. “Anyway, next to him is a fucking giant heart made of ice on a cart. I shit you not. So he’s fumbling with this megaphone, and he says, ‘M-M-Momo Yaoyorozu, I need to t-talk to you.’” The voice he gave past Todoroki was shaky and nervous, and was enough to pull a loud laugh from Katsuki. “Of course, she goes out there. And we all go out there. And you could tell he wasn’t expecting either development. She asks him what’s up, and he reaches into his pocket for flash cards. Yeah. The dude is shaking and sweating everywhere. On both sides.” For once, Bakugou was speechless, his smiling mouth hanging slightly open in his complete amusement and interest. Todoroki had his head between his knees, wringing his shaking hands in silent pleading for this to stop. Yaoyorozu just gently smiled and rubbed circles on his back, blushing but obviously not as distressed. “He starts turning really red, burns up all the flash cards then tries to stomp them out, but tragically, it was too late. He takes a few deep breaths and lights the ice on fire somehow, and almost fucking sets the lawn on fire too! He puts out the little fires, then comes back to her and is like, ‘Uhhhh, I had a poem about how you melted my heart, or whatever, but I didn’t memorize it because I was soooooo nervous. Wanna go out or something?’ We all lose our damn minds, and Momo just kisses him. And here we are.” He and Momo let out a laugh, before Katsuki started clapping slowly.

Wow,” he shook his head and held back a laugh as he smirked at Todoroki. Said young man’s face was hiding in his palm. “That was—wow—truly the fucking love story of our time. Bravo, Hot Pocket. I mean, I don’t know anyone who would pull that, and still come away with a date.”

Shouto groaned before he glanced at Kirishima through his fingers. “You neglected to tell him whose idea it was. Kaminari—”

“Oh,” the redhead interrupted with a snort. “I hardly think that matters, big guy.”

“Eijirou, there was a little bit you added in there. And a lot you left out,” Momo said with an amused smile. Todoroki looked horrified at the possibility that his girlfriend was going to join in ganging up on him, but she had just gotten good at stirring him up. She liked doing that. “It was a lot sweeter and more sincere than that, obviously. A lot less paraphrased, too.” She shot a playful look at Kirishima, who just shrugged.

Bakugou turned to her. “Y’know Ponytail, I am sure you are absolutely right, but after hearin’ that masterpiece, I don’t want the real version.”

Everyone, except Shouto of course, joined in another laugh and for a moment, Kirishima saw that light in his friend again; this time it was even brighter than before, and it didn’t diminish—not very much, anyway—when the doorbell rang again. The blonde just closed his eyes, calming his breath and gripping his pants a bit. He looked like he’d be alright.

Kirishima opened the door, and in his face smiled just about the whole class before they crowded in with loud greetings and tossed their shoes in a pile. Katsuki couldn’t even tell who wasn’t there, because there were somanypeopleinthefuckinghouse. While everyone else had enough sense to give him his space after greeting him, Ashido, Sero, and Kaminari rushed over to probe and chastise him over why he’d been extremely M.I.A. over the past year. He tried to stay as calm as he could—his mother’s recent words on his temper echoing through his mind—but these fuckers had no boundaries, so this proved difficult. It didn’t help that a deep part of him did want to connect again with the people he was going to be around for the foreseeable future. Though he could feel that part of him struggling to stay alive when they, more often then not, acted like a gaggle of vultures who had no regard for an individual’s personal space. He turned to Kirishima, who had finished welcoming everyone into his home, then rushed over when he saw his best friend in distress.

“Hey guys, I’ve got some benches out back! Me and Bakugou will bring out some snacks and stuff, and then we’ll really get this party started!” Everyone cheered, and basically cha-cha’d through the sliding glass door leading to the backyard. He stopped Kyoka for a word. “Can you set up some music? My brothers have a decent system so maybe you can figure it out?”

She flashed him a thumbs up. “There’s no system in the world I can’t figure out.” Jirou’s eyes did flicker to the obviously on edge cherry-bomb, but she figured nothing she’d say in this moment would remedy it, so she followed everyone else out. Once she was gone, Eijirou looked back to Katsuki.

“Look,” the red-head started, noticing his friend’s steaming hands, “this is going to be really fun! I promise!” He was still not looking convinced, and Kirishima thought that maybe he was still going to get blown to smithereens. “Okay, I know this is the absolute last thing you want happening in a 100 mile radius of you. This was a horrible idea,” he admitted dejectedly.

“Gee, how’d you figure out that one?” Bakugou seethed, his words drenched in sarcasm.

“Well, you weren’t super happy to see me today either, for one.” Eijirou chuckled softly and rubbed at the back of his neck. Bakugou’s brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to disagree, but quickly closed it so he wouldn’t say anything sappy. Though that small gesture was all his friend needed to see to know that his presence was actually enjoyed. Kirishima beamed, making the blonde roll his eyes with an angry sigh. He knew he was found out, as this shitty-haired kid had a knack for seeing right through him relatively quickly.

Katsuki looked to his other classmates who were gathered in the backyard before speaking. “Why the fuck did you have to invite all these people?”

“Believe it or not man, they’re all your friends, too. Remember, I wasn’t the only one who showed up to save your ass from The League.”

“Tch, you did not—“

Kirishima threw his hands up and interrupted him. “Right, right. You had it all figured out and we just fucked up your original plan.”

“You’re goddamn right.”

“Well, it wasn’t just me who was there. Todoroki, Yaoyorozu, Iida, and even Midoriya were all there to make sure you got out of there alive. And that’s not even counting everyone that was worried about you. No matter how much you insult us or yell at us or threaten to kill us, we’re all your friends. That’s not gonna change.” He looked up in thought, thinking about the last part of that statement with a small laugh. “For some reason.”

Bakugou found himself looking at his friend for a little longer than normal, taking in his emotion-drenched words once again. Kirishima wasn’t going to wait for his ideal response like he did earlier today. He figured all he could do was make sure he was heard, and the blonde would do what he would with the information.

“When you’re ready, come out and socialize, bro. I promise they don’t bite. Well, they won’t if you have that good smelling food in your hand,“ he added with a laugh.

Katsuki remained in the house for another fifteen minutes or so, internally arguing with himself over whether or not he should grace the horde of fuckers waiting outside with his presence or his cooking. He decided to start with getting into a non-grease-stained shirt, so he raided Kirishima’s stuff. All he could find that wasn’t ugly as all hell, was a navy shirt with a small pocket on the left. On said pocket, in small red cursive, read the words ‘Rock Hard,’ because of course it did. After changing, he paced about in the kitchen again, arranging large platters while his thoughts raced.

Why the fuck did they all come here?

Why were they all so interested in what he’d been up to?

Why did they voice their annoyance at his attempts to keep them at least an arms distance between them? How did they not realize they were the annoying ones?

Kirishima came in every three minutes or so to make sure he hadn’t bolted or anything, and each time Katsuki told him he‘d join them eventually, and to leave him the hell alone. He didn’t buy his own words completely, but he knew he couldn’t stay in there forever.

Upon deciding to finally go outside, the doorbell rang, and Bakugou was absolutely positive he couldn’t handle anymore of this shit. Even though this wasn’t his house, he guessed he was co-hosting this party? The proper host his mother taught him to be took control, and he opened the door. It was Ochako Uraraka, and Katsuki felt the hot anger in him slightly cool upon seeing her face.

Damn the power of big eyes and round cheeks.

She was wearing a white top with a small rocket and stars and planets on it, with the words “Give Me Space” printed in yellow. Pink shorts with lighter pink crescent moons all over them hugged the smooth curve of her hips, and her outfit was completed by dark pink sandals. Her brown hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail, and there was a subtle pink tint on her soft-looking lips. A smile grew on her face that, for some reason, made a different warmth spread through the blonde’s chest.

“Hey Bakugou!” Even her cute, pleasant voice had a less than appropriate effect on him.

“Moonface,” was all he could grumble as he tried to keep his eyes off of her incredibly short shorts. Ochako let out an amused snort, which Bakugou always found really cute...

“Wow, that’s so not it. Good try, though,” she teased. The blonde took a step back as she leaned close to him. “‘Rock Hard.’” Ochako read his shirt then gave a hearty laugh, causing Bakugou to let out an annoyed grunt and turn away to hide the color swirling in his cheeks. She smiled as she paced by him, then removed her shoes and neatly placed them by the messy pile of everyone else’s. “Sorry I’m late. When Eijirou called me and said the two of you were throwing this, I had a feeling this probably wasn’t your idea.” She giggled, and Katsuki just wanted to fucking melt already. “I, uh, brought over some sugar cookies.” Uraraka shoved a plate at him, which he took graciously.

“Mm, thanks...” The plate was still fairly warm, but it didn’t bother him. Her gesture made him have to mentally will away what felt like a heart attack, but he managed to keep his cool anyway.

What the fuck? This was Ochako Uraraka, right?

“How’re you doing?” Her face softened with concern. “Are you feeling okay?” Katsuki felt his chest tighten, as it usually did when people asked him this question; though something else was the cause too, and he accredited it to her peering into his soul while she asked him.

“I’m...I’m fine.” He could tell she somehow knew better than that, but luckily she didn’t pry.

“Okay, I was just wondering. I’m glad,” she smiled sweetly. “Y’know, I...” She took a moment then shook her head. “It’s really good to see you, Katsuki.” He realized she’d been the first person to use his name, and although it made him wonder why she appeared to be the only one—besides Kirishima—who wasn’t phased by his callous demeanor, it didn’t take away from the lack of gravity he seemed to be experiencing in his stomach right now.

Maybe she’d unknowingly activated her quirk or something...

Katsuki cleared his throat gruffly. “Everyone is out back, so...” He hoped she got the message, because he needed her to scram just in case he was going to lose it. He sure felt like it.

“Right, right. I’ll get out of your hair.” She smiled and placed her hand on his shoulder, making it feel even warmer than the plate he was carrying. “Can’t wait to eat whatever I’m smelling in here!” She gently slid her hand off of him, then walked outside, immediately being assaulted by a hug from Mina.

For the umpteenth time that day, Katsuki stood speechless, and he wondered just where these bastards were planning on getting with him.

Chapter Text

As the afternoon bled into a dim, orange evening, Bakugou could feel his socializing limit slowly encroaching with every encounter.

Seems no one else was privy to that nearing limit, however.

"Dude..." Kirishima complained behind him. They'd deserved it. "Not cool..." The redhead picked up a dazed Kaminari from the ground.

Bakugou had brought out his party snacks, which included bacon-jalapeño poppers and mini chicken sandwiches topped with his mother's pesto recipe—real good shit he now thought they didn't deserve—and everyone had practically ripped him to pieces trying to get their share. He'd heard someone say that Kirishima asked them to come hungry, but they acted like a bunch of fucking wild animals who hadn't eaten in days. He didn't remember who he'd blasted in the face to escape the swarm, but a few of his classmates were struggling to stand as he stepped over them to angrily place the platters next to the punch bowl.


After everyone had stripped the table of refreshments, they sang his culinary praises, spreading that fuzzy light through his chest as he looked down on them in faux-annoyance. He considered cooking for these idiots again, as it seemed they were good for one thing at least. He channeled more of the good (co?)host he was taught to be, and tried to be as engaging as possible with everyone without seething. Well, not so much engage as stand awkwardly by Kirishima. These were people who, as far as he knew, had even less in common with him than they did in high school. Some of them had become rookies and sidekicks during their freshman year already. Others were deep into the newly introduced college courses either by choice or requirement if they still wanted to be heroes. It sounded like they were all up-to-date on each other's progress, as it seemed that the subject was brought up whenever someone asked about someone else. A feeling of inferiority and exclusion simmered in the bottom of Bakugou's stomach, so he'd excused himself to a different group whenever he got uncomfortable. He knew he should at least try and be happy for his classmates, but that wasn't in his nature as long as he wasn't where he thought he should be, too.

He'd almost made conversation with everyone before the afternoon was out, and had truly exhausted himself with it. He'd really struggled with the candy cane last, whom he questioned himself for even talking to, because they'd kind of already spoken inside. And Katsuki was pretty sure that, if Ponytail wasn't around to broaden it, the guy had the conversational range of a stick of celery. It was that, or he just couldn't find any reason to stay interested in what the bastard had to say, which wasn't much to begin with. The blonde could just see that he was having as difficult a time keeping up with all the socializing as he was, even though Half-and-Half wasn't the one who'd avoided his peers for close to three years.

Still, the two being able to easily chat made sense on paper, because they were relatively quiet guys(when unprovoked) who just wanted to be strong pro-heroes. The two were taking Power Control again this year, and neither had managed to become official rookies or even sidekicks like some of their classmates. They both had a lot of raw, untapped power that they'd been neglecting to use for a long time out of arrogance, and now they had to make up for it. There was a lot more that they had in common than they thought, especially after not interacting for so long. It was strange.

When Bakugou ran through the short list of topics he could discuss with the guy, he asked a question he'd been saving from before:

"How the fuck did you manage to light ice on fire?"

Todoroki told him he'd asked Momo how to do it a few weeks prior to his stunt, and that she'd told him that it was a simple chemical reaction. She had no idea why he had asked that, probably deducing he was working on a new move or fighting style. Katsuki assumed that the look on her face when she'd connected the dots that day was more than likely priceless, and he wished he'd seen it. He'd never do anything like that himself, even if he had someone to impress. It was embarrassing and too lovey-dovey, and Katsuki didn't do embarrassing or lovey-dovey. Still, he guessed an awkward congrats was in order? Seeing as the two lovebirds were practically inseparable now. Though the blonde decided that it went without saying.

After all that, he concluded he needed a drink, then moved back to a secluded bench in the yard, observing everybody. Now, he had a good chance to see who was actually here.

Ashido and Sero were taking shots of something the latter bought; he'd probably brought the liquor in Bakugou's hand, too. There were Icy-Hot and Ponytail, of course. Kaminari, who absolutely knew he wasn't welcome by Bakugou at first, but had been nothing but somewhat pleasant since he'd arrived, was talking to Earphone Girl. As usual, she looked like it was a chore to keep up with, which Tentacle-dude apparently found amusing. Katsuki had also caught sight of, or rather didn't catch sight of, Invisible Girl who was sitting and chatting with Tail Guy, the latter appearing as if he was talking to some floating clothes.

Finally learning some names would probably do him some good if he was going to be around them all night.

He wondered why most of them were here, since he didn't remember all of their names or ever even talking to most of them in school, but for a second he'd forgotten that this was Kirishima's house, and that they were more his friends now than anything now.

Just the different ways they greeted the two of them upon entry—Eijirou met with warm hugs and teasing words, contrasted to the cold, distant "good to see you's" that they shot Katsuki's way—said a lot about what he assumed they thought about him. It wasn't like Katsuki didn't know he'd made it that way between him and other people. He wanted it that way. For their sake and his own.

His lonely thoughts continued to burn in the back of his brain and irritate him, so much so that he hadn't noticed someone was standing right next to him. He looked to see that it was Uraraka, and interestingly enough, the girl was one of the few in the group who he wasn't completely pissed off at for coming here.

Had he talked to her at all? No, right?

She was smiling and saying something that Bakugou couldn't hear as he came back down to earth. He ignored it, as now he could really see how she'd changed since he'd last seen her. Ochako was taller, though not by much, maybe an inch or two. She'd let her brown hair down since she'd arrived, which showed it's growth to be just past her shoulders; it was no longer cropped and straightened, its slight waves flowing wherever they pleased in the wind. The angle he sat at gave him a flash of her stomach, which had gained soft waves of its own, and the blonde couldn't help but think of pushing his fingers across the surface to see how much it would give under a certain amount of strength. To see if she'd kept up the training he'd started her on in their second year. Her face still carried its baby-like roundness, made worse—or better—by her big, chocolatey eyes that were locked onto him. She waved in front of his face to get his attention, making him grab her wrist firmly.

Too close.

She nervously squeaked at the gesture and turned a deep shade of pink in apology.

Okay, yeah, she was still cute.

Katsuki released her wrist and leaned back to drape his arm over the back of the bench. An annoyed sigh left his lips before he spoke. "The hell you want, Cheeks?" He cut his eyes away from her after she pouted from the nickname.

"It's 'Ochako,'" she complained as she sat down and lifted her thigh to rest on the space between them. She unconsciously mirrored his draped arm then rested her chin in her palm. This puffed up her face a bit more and, along with her proximity, made Katsuki's stomach tremble.

He scoffed. "'It's Ochako,'" he mocked her whiny voice, even though he liked it a lot, and the brunette visibly stiffened at his deep, teasing tone. She gave a heavy sigh, letting the smell of a light and fruity beverage drift into his nose.

"I haven't seen you in...what, like over a year? And you're still so mean, Bakugou," she stated and tapped her shoeless foot against his thigh, discretely biting her lip at the small, triumphant smirk he let through. He knew she was staring at him, but he tried not to let it phase him. Don't look.

She couldn't not look. Bakugou had changed, but not by much obviously. Still mean, still arrogant, still reserved.

He was much taller since they'd last seen each other, she could see that from him sitting even. Was he taller than Deku? She couldn't say, but made a mental note to do comparisons later. His body was more filled out, and she could tell that he'd kept up his training, even from under Kirishima's shirt. He still had strong hands, something she noticed when they were in school together. His face was larger and had more edges, and it didn't really need to be said, but he was still—if not more—as attractive as always. He still smelled so freaking good.

A general pull towards him had begun after their sports festival match, and it had taken a year for her to build up the courage to ask him for something that had burned so important in her since her defeat.

"Will you train me?"

"Get lost."

She'd expected that, but learned a thing or two from Deku and kept fighting for what she wanted. She kept cornering him, sending him texts and notes in class, chasing after him when the school day was finished. She was persistent.

Like that damn, stupid nerd.

He finally agreed, to shut her the fuck up, and that's what their hours after class consisted of.

She endured getting kicked in the face, thrown across cement, and singed on almost every surface of her body. Scratches, bruises, gashes. And at the end of it, she was usually pinned down under a heap of rage-fueled purpose.

But that was always her favorite thing.

When he won.

She didn't let him by any means—she was pretty sure her wins might have outnumbered his—but when he did manage to get the jump on her, it stoked the burning fire in her stomach that she noticed was frequently there when their training bled into the dead of night. There were two fires being fed, in fact; one, an explosive determination to win and grind him into the dust, and the other, an igniting desire to bare her skin and grind against him.

Of course, he admired that determination to not stop until she beat him. But he wasn't without guilty, dark thoughts of his own. Some days, he'd grow painfully hard under her kill-intended holds, and she hadn't noticed, so he willed it away or ignored it completely.

It was nothing. It was nothing.

Teenage hormones he could control. He was in control.

Though the day he ended up pressed between her warm legs, his thoughts quickly shifting from victory to shame, he had to stop. Stop.

She'd noticed.

"Um, Katsuki..." She looked uncomfortable, maybe even grossed out. She wasn't.

He played it off, shamelessly apologized for it before calling it a day, leaving her blushing and panicked on the gymnasium floor.

"Adrenaline." He had been trying to reassure them both.

It was fine.

Just adrenaline, but he couldn't train with her again.

Though whether he realized it or not, he didn't look at her the same after those days, and she'd always liked that. His eyes were always filled with absent curiosity, like he didn't know he was studying her throughout the day, wondering why after sparring he always wanted to...

Nah. Just hormones. Same with Kirishima. Forget it.

Those days were always on Ochako's mind, though. Even when they shouldn't have been. Like right now.

"So...What do you want?" His gruff voice snapped her out of her darkening thoughts, and she realized she'd come over without a real plan to talk to him. She'd been staring at him since he emerged from the house, and hadn't come up with a single thing to say besides 'can I sit by you,' which he hadn't heard anyway. She touched her fingers to her thumb repeatedly, as she often did when she was nervous, and when he took notice, she immediately balled up her fist.

He was so intimidating, and he wasn't even doing anything! They'd been in each other's space for countless hours in private, fighting hormones aside, and it had been fine. Now they were sitting on a bench in front of their friends, so why was it so hard to talk all of a sudden?

"I, uh..." Ochako knew he was the type to hate having his time wasted, so she scrambled in her head for something to say to him. Anything. "I was just, um," his damn, beady red eyes, she couldn't fucking read them, "I was...thinking about when we used to spar."

That was not supposed to be what she said. Fuck!

He blinked rapidly then turned away from her, covering his mouth. There was no way he could just blow past it like he normally would. She'd either been reading his mind just now, or she'd felt something similar that night on the gym floor.

"...Yeah." He mumbled it under his palm, but she'd definitely heard him. His eyes shifted to her and then away, and she just turned and faced the drunk, oblivious group of their peers.

"Right." She uttered through a heavy sigh, finding this all unbelievable but terribly exciting.

"So." He was stating, not asking.

"I need..." She stood on slightly wobbly knees, then pointed to the glass door. "Going inside."


No one saw Katsuki go in a few minutes after Ochako, or they didn't think so at least.

No one saw them stand quietly in the hall upstairs, her eyes asking a silent question that he understood completely.

No one saw her lean up to kiss him and aggressively push him against Kirishima's door.

No one heard him suggest that the bathroom inside was probably a smarter choice, albeit uncomfortable.

No one would see a thing now.

After lifting her to sit on the sink, she spread her legs and pulled him closer, seemingly trying to fuse their hips together. She wanted to be quick, to get off as soon as they could, but he insisted they try to make as little noise as possible to avoid getting caught.

That meant going slow, and she hated going slow.

She'd punish him for this.

"Katsuki," Ochako breathed quietly, making him groan and tense up as his dick jumped in her hand. She figured out what saying his name did, so she relished in torturing him often. She was being tortured herself, as having to be cautious and quiet meant she had to focus on not activating her quirk, which was something she did a lot if she was in the right mood.

"Whaaat?" Katsuki complained lowly against her neck, going back to sucking on the sensitive spot he'd found earlier.

"You're—mmm—you're 'Rock Hard.'" She said it how she did about his shirt at the door when she got here, but there was obvious laughter being fought back.

"And you're fuckin' annoying."

He pinched her nipple and hungrily ate up the whine he knew would come out of her mouth. She'd been annoying for a good part of this, but he kind of liked it, as stupid as it was sometimes.

She was fun. This was so fun.

He'd expected this to be an awkward fuck that mostly consisted of trying to figure out what to do right, but things had been relatively easy. Training with each other meant they knew at least some things about the other's body, even if the sensitivity certain parts showed wasn't blatantly sexual at the time.

He knew she was protective of her neck, as he'd grazed it and launched her into a weird, angry laugh sometimes. She knew he liked his hair pulled, because he never shouted, only blushed when it happened. This was all so weirdly intimate and exposing, because they were using their previously ignored sparring knowledge against each other.

In the best way imaginable.

Katsuki angrily tugged at her shorts with a grunt, eager to see if what they were hiding was just as ready as he was.

"Dude, don't rip my shorts."

"Then get 'em off."

"Then move." Another stupid smirk of hers.

Ohhh, so annoying!

He reluctantly separated their hips and held his pants up as he watched her pop open her pink shorts. She hesitated for a second, and he questioned if she really wanted to do this.

He grabbed her wrists then looked her in the eye. "You good?" Ochako studied his gaze for a second, then nodded quickly and leaned forward to kiss him. He avoided it then pressed his forehead to hers. "You're sure? I don't care." He shook his head. "I mean, I don't mind if you—" She kissed him hard, and he grabbed her hips to slide her towards him. He gripped the hem of her shorts instead—because he actually might have ripped them in half from the zipper—and decided to slide them down her legs torturously slow, just to be a dick.

She grabbed his dick in retaliation, making him jump. He chuckled and wiggled between her legs to let her stroke him more easily. He moved the damp, pale pink fabric covering her entrance to the side, not bothering to take them off. She was so wet, and he found himself slightly satisfied with just grazing his fingers up and down the slick folds, but she was having none of that. She slapped his hand away and pushed her underwear to join her shorts around her ankles, squeaking at the sensation of her skin meeting the cold marble of the bathroom sink. Bakugou laughed at her, and she pouted before punching his chest. He met her halfway for a kiss, and this one was slower, less frantic; only for a moment though.

"Mmph!" She broke away from the kiss to lightly slap the side of his head. "Condom, condom, condom!" She chanted.

"Alright, Cheeks, I fuckin' heard ya." He'd forgotten in his own excitement too, but complied and reached to the drawer to the left underneath them as she stroked him in waiting. He could feel her questioning gaze, and answered her without pausing his search. "Don't ask me how I know, or who he's fuckin'."

She snickered. "Well now I have to—

"Bakugou! You in here bro?"

The commotion that sounded from that bathroom was the result of Ochako panicking and activating her quirk on Bakugou's dick, and the latter trying to halt his ascension by pulling on the drawer. She almost screamed in laughter at the sight of him floating to the ceiling, trying to keep his pants over himself and holding an empty drawer to his chest to prevent further noise. The floor was littered with the contents of the drawer, and in the middle of it was Ochako trying to hold her mouth and nose with her hands, because if she took one breath it would surely result in a fit of laughter.

"Is that you, dude?"

"YES I'M IN HERE!" Katsuki screamed as color flushed his whole face. Ochako was losing it.

"You okay? I heard some noise..." Kirishima jiggled the door handle, and the two inside gave each other a panicked look. Thank god they’d been clear-headed enough to lock the door.

"I DON'T NEED YOU TO FUCKING SUPERVISE MY SHITS, YOU IDIOT!" He shouted and hoped his friend went the fuck away, even though it was the redhead's room to begin with.

"Okay, well calm down, ya meanie! I was only wonderin' where you were! We're gonna watch a movie, if you guys wanna join us."


When they knew he'd closed his bedroom door, Ochako let out her laughter as she let Katsuki float down. He fumed and grabbed her face, devouring her giggles as he picked her up to straddle his waist.

"Still rock hard, I see."

"Shut. Up." So annoying.

"Did he say 'you guys?’” She realized that he hadn't just asked Katsuki to come out of the bathroom for a movie, so he probably knew what they were up to.

"I don't even care anymore." She laughed harder then gasped when he shoved his fingers inside of her, curling them upward and making her tug on his hair. Just as he latched onto her neck again her phone buzzed in her shorts on the floor.

"Katsuki," she moaned.

"Don't even think about it," he growled in response.

"Mmn, might be my mom. Please just grab it, I'll get off quick."

"I'm tryin' to get ya off right now."

"Seriously, dude. Real quick, I promise." He growled again and bent down to rummage through her pockets and pulled out her small pink flip phone. "Shut up," she preemptively cut off his smart remark about her phone because she'd seen his smirk as he handed it to her. "Hello? Oh, hey!" Katsuki saw her face light up, and began kissing her neck again to bring her attention back to him. She futilely tried to lean away from his soft bites.

"Hang up."

"You're here right now?" She looked at him, and the heat in her belly burned with a desire to stay here and finish what she started. But she decided otherwise. "Okay, I'm coming down!" The mysterious caller said something else before the brunette hung up and sighed heavily. "Katsuki." He didn't respond, just looked at her with that angry stare. "Dude." She wanted to laugh but she kept it in as she pulled his hips to hers again. He let out a low moan when she rolled her hips into his still throbbing erection one last time. "I have to go," she said as she gently pat his face. He didn't try and hide his annoyance in his silence, and Ochako's dejected face made him rethink the silent treatment.


She pouted and laid her chin on his thumping chest, brown eyes gazing upwards. "...You mad at me?" The tone of her voice pinged Katsuki's heart, but he played it off with a shrug.

"Nah, I just..." He looked down, and she blushed as if she'd forgotten their recent activities.

"Oh, yeah. That was a thing that was happening." She jumped down from the sink and started to get dressed.

"Yeah, it was. I'm still pretty torn up about it," he deadpanned as he zipped up his pants.

"Well, better luck next time, champ." She pat his grinning face then opened the door to peek out. The coast was clear, so the two of them tentatively made their way down the dark, quiet hall. Bakugou would pinch her ass or grab her waist to thrust against her, and she would just pinch his side or flick his cheek.

He honestly didn't want her to go, for a multitude of reasons, but the main one was that she was just so much fun to be around. She matched his energy, and expressed her fondness for it before she threw it right back at him. It was a turn on, if he was being honest. His time at this party had pretty much sucked until she sat down to talk to him, and he figured he'd probably just be quiet and bored the rest of the time after she left.

He hated how much he could want someone around him after really speaking to them for the first time. And they weren’t even forced to spend eight hours a day together anymore.

They walked past the group of people that had decided to stay, the others gone home or to do something they had previously committed to, and the two casually headed to the door. Kirishima had turned around to look at the both of them, sending a flush across their faces. He just smirked and turned back around to the movie some of them were currently engrossed in. Ochako reached the door and quietly pulled it open.

On the other side, looking oh so delicious in his tight, one-sleeved, black shirt and gym shorts was none other than Izuku, her boyfriend of almost two years. Katsuki gaped as they immediately beamed at each other, and when Izuku's eyes traveled up to meet his, he was met with one of those famous, sincere smiles. It was something that the blonde hadn't seen in over a year, but it still pissed him off for no particular reason.

"Hey, Kacchan."