#beforenumberone

[saturnsorbits]

BNO: The First Time

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Angst, Smut, Use of Ground Zero as Bakugo’s Hero Name. Word Count: 5.7k.

Summary: Hero work leaves little time for anything that isn’t hero work. Bakugo knows that, but it doesn’t make him want you any less.

-> Series Masterlist

It’s hard not to listen to the headboard banging against the too-thin walls that separate your room from your room-mates. It’s even harder to try and sleep while it’s happening.

The TV crackles into life and just about manages to cover the sound of Yoayorozu’s third orgasm. You switch channels and gun the volume, hoping that the squeaky voice of the reporter on screen will provide enough cover. It does: just. The camera is facing a set of large doors, the sharp outline of the words ‘Hero-Accommodation’ reflecting back through the glass. You’d recognise that scene anywhere. Outside, about thirty floors down there’s a news van parked up hoping to catch a tired pro-hero returning from work and it looks like they’ve snagged one. The reporters wearing a too low V-neck sweater that exposes her assets all too clearly to the interviewee stood to her left. She blushes, practically falling over herself to lay a gentle hand on the Hero’s bicep. 'Here, I have the one and only Ground Zero. How does it feel to be the number five hero?’ Bakugo’s jaw tenses. It’s almost imperceptible, but you clock it. He manages to answer her questions politely enough, flashing a smile that looks more like bared teeth as the reporter squeezes his arm. There’s a flash of red steadily rising from the collar of his pressed t-shirt as his irritation threatens to make him snap and you chuckle. Some things really don’t change. Nostalgia wraps itself around your lungs. How long had it been since you’d last seen him? Six months? Twelve? You’d been close back in U.A. Close enough to share a bed. You’d done away with the awkwardness of sleeping side by side during your training, all the late-night study sessions had seen to that. You’d lost count of how many times you had succumbed to fatigue, only to wake-up in one of your dorms, or once on the common rooms couch, nestled under the same duvet. Your little sleep overs had ended along with your time at U.A, though. Graduation had shoved you all unceremoniously into the Hero world and Hero work left little time for anything that wasn’t, well… Hero work.

Another whine, this time from Jiro, almost shakes the wall behind you and you knock the volume up a little more to try and drown her out. The reporters blushing. Her hand has migrated from his arm to his shoulder, allowing her to press the side of her tit against his chest. Her thumb brushes his skin and you cringe, wondering why the Hell she thought it appropriate to drape herself over him like that on live TV. 'We’ve all heard the rumours of Creati and Earphone Jack, but what we all want to know is does Ground Zero have his eye on anyone special? You can’t really expect us to believe you intend to keep yourself off the market until you take the number one spot, can you?’ You snort. Bakugo’s rather public vow of celibacy had always been something of a talking point. No-one quite believed it. The fact that one of the hottest Pro-Hero’s would actively choose to not only stay single, but forgo sex entirely as to not distract him from taking number one seemed ludicrous. Ludicrous to anyone who didn’t know him of course. Bakugo was more than serious about his little rule. Rolling his shoulder out of the reporter’s grasp, he bites back the scathing comment tickling the tip of his tongue. ‘I’m married to the job.’

‘Ah.’ The reporter grins, something echoing in her eye as she half-turns towards Bakugo. ‘Speaking of the job. Word is that the commission is holding interviews for a position that could help land one lucky hero the number one spot. Can we assume that you intend to apply?’

‘We’ll see.’ He says like he really means ‘fuck off’.

‘Apparently pro-Hero Deku has already been invited to apply.’

‘Like I said, we’ll see.’ Bakugo growls. The veins running along the underside of his neck have started to bulge, but he doesn’t move, not yet.

‘Well…’ The reporter looks past the camera and snarls before lifting her hand reluctantly from his shoulder. '…I’m told that’s all the time we have for tonight, but I hope you won’t be too much of a stranger -.’ Bakugo groans. He’s already slinking out of frame as the camera cuts. The TV screen crackles as the image switches from the reporter’s live feed to a brightly-lit studio. Shaking your head, you slip a hand under your bed-shirt and itch at your side. It’s an old shirt. The print on the front has faded, but you can just about make out the faint white bulk of the skull decal. Somewhere down the line you must have borrowed it from Bakugo and never given it back. The shirt brings another pang of nostalgia and causes you to reach for your phone. You tap out a message, short and sweet:

'Hey stranger, saw your interview. We should meet up soon. Miss you.’

You roll the phone over in your palm, waiting for the screen to glow, for a message to pop up, but it stays black.

There’s a scream from Yaoyorozu that cracks through the noise of the TV. She’s babbling as moan after moan is torn from her throat and you’re half-tempted to slam a fist on the wall and yell. Not that it would do any good. The idea hits you like you’ve just been zapped by Kaminari. If Bakugo had been in civilian clothes he must have just finished his patrol and been caught by the reporter before he managed to slip into the apartment complex. That meant that three floors above you, he was probably getting in. The prospect of a full-nights sleep makes up your mind. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t slept over before and Bakugo’s little 'no sex’ rule meant you’d be free from the moans that plagued your apartment.

You don’t bother to dress. Instead, you flick off the TV, grab your keys, a small overnight bag and head out.

'I’m coming, fucking Hell.’ Bakugo groans, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes as he fumbles with the lock on the door. 'I swear if you’ve forgotten your keys again, I’m going to skin you alive -.’ He stops dead when he realises that the person in front of him is far too small to be Kirishima. 'What the fuck?’ 'Do you ever look at your phone?’ You yawn, hand connecting with his chest to push him back into the apartment. His shirt is warm under your palm and slightly clammy from being pulled over his still damp body. He allows you to push him backwards, eyebrows knitting together on his forehead. 'Hello to you too.’ 'I sent you a message.’ 'I didn’t realise you meant soon as in you were on your way over.’ 'Didn’t. Jirou and Yaoyorouz…’ You point down, vaguely indicating your apartment. 'Can’t sleep because of all the… y'know.’ 'Ah. You want to stay.’ It’s not a question. Leaning over you, Bakugo pushes the door shut and sighs. He can already feel his skin prickling at the idea of you sharing his bed again. 'You know where my room is.’ You pat him on the chest and smile through another yawn, before vanishing into his bedroom. Despite the months of radio silence, you sink back into his bed like you never left.

Bakugo takes a moment before following. His knee hits the mattress and soon after he’s on his back with you curled up beside him. Reaching up, forearm crossing his chest, he presses an index finger to his jugular. The rhythmic thrumming of his heart is quick and makes him bite his tongue. You’re so close he wouldn’t even need to stretch out to touch you, but he doesn’t. He can’t. He’d convinced himself a long time ago that things were better like this. This way, there were no arguments when he got back late for the millionth time, no heart-breaking phone calls when he told you he’d miss another important event, no watching you cry in the kitchen when you finally shattered because of the neglect.

'Saw your interview.’ You mumble. The air expands in his chest, almost choking him. 'Yeah?’ 'Reporter looked like she wanted to jump you.’ He snorts and sits up, air flowing back into his lungs. Gripping his tank top by the neck, he hauls it over his head, his body suddenly roasting in your presence. He’d forgotten the effect you had on him, how you had his blood boiling, palms sweating – which wasn’t always a good thing.

Peeking over your shoulder, you watch as he wipes a hand on the shirt before dropping it over the side of the bed. His shoulders ripple, the thick ropes of muscle that twist around him from neck to elbow flex as he twists and rolls onto his side. You’ve always known that he was attractive, that men and women alike were all too keen to throw themselves at his feet, but it isn’t until you catch your eyes trailing down the deep groove of his chest that you really begin to understand it. 'What?’ He slips a hand under his pillow, his eyes falling automatically to where your sleep shirt has risen above your ass. 'Nothing.’ 'You were staring at me.’ 'Shut up and go to sleep.’ You huff and wriggle on the mattress. Lifting your hips, you shift tugging the sleep-shirt higher around your waist, trying to cool the new heat lingering between your thighs. Maybe it was listening to Jirou and Yaoyorozu that had gotten you hot and heavy, that had made your eyes wonder over Bakugo’s thick chest and think about how it would feel to be braced against it as you straddled him, as you slipped down on his – No. You shake yourself, dislodge the hormone addled images of Bakugo from your head and turn your focus back to sleeping. Shimmying, you push your ass backwards in search of a new comfort, but just when you think you’ve found it, a rough hand grabs your hip. 'I can’t get comfy.’ You complain, raising your hip into his palm praying he’ll release you before a new spark ignites in your core.

He doesn’t.

'Stop fucking moving.’ His grip tightens, pushing you into the mattress. There’s a lump in his throat that he can’t seem to get rid of when you try and squirm out of his grip, exposing more of yourself to him. He grits his teeth, feeling the rush of blood that announces its interest in the situation loudly. Pushing yourself backwards, you attempt to free yourself only to find your back pressed to his front. His length is prominent and now, it’s pressing into the top of your thighs. 'I told you to stop moving.’ He groans, defeated. 'This is the part where you’re supposed to slink off to the other side of the bed and we pretend nothing ever happened.’ He’s unsure if he actually means it. God knows he wants you. He’s wanted you since high school only he’d promised himself, hadn’t he, that he’d never let it get this far. Your Hero schedules barely allowed time to piss, never mind embarking upon a doomed, fledgling romance. Still, the way your ass stayed pushed back against him had him thinking that maybe, he wasn’t the only one who had harboured less than savoury thoughts. You press your thighs together, trying in vain to halt the growing need that begins to rise through your body. You should make a joke, move away and tease him about his unfortunate biological mishap before promptly forgetting it ever happened, but your body refuses to move.

'Katsuki…’ His name shakes in your mouth and you hope he can hear the one-million questions you’ve forced into it.

Placing a single, brief kiss to your shoulder he silences the alarm bells in his head with his own voice. He rolls his lip between his teeth, the twitching of his cock undeniable. 'What do we do now?’ His lips send a shiver down your spine, causing goose-flesh to cover your arms. You press your hips backwards, rubbing against his length as you submit to the desire ignited by your accidental encounter. 'Fuck.’ His moan is low and vibrates through both his chest and yours. You repeat the action, anxious to feel his breath in the shell of your ear again. His cock itches the bottom of your back and your heart almost stops as you realise just how big he is. He releases your hip. Skating his palm over your rib cage, he continues up your body and cups your breast. Your whole-body prickles at his touch and you wonder why you’d waited so long to let him touch you like this. Still, despite the desperate pulsing of your cunt, somehow, there’s still a small flicker of hesitance that registers its complaints. You have half a mind to stop him. 'What about -.’ You choke on air in-between the moans he coaxes from your throat. 'What about the whole no sex thing.’ The weak whimpers that rise from your throat deprive him of rational thought and make up his mind. There’s no way he can refuse you, no way he can ignore the aching of his cock as you rub against it. He pecks at your shoulder. 'Don’t care, I’mma be number one soon anyway I – I just want… I want you.’ That’s all you need. Letting the pit in your stomach fill with desire, you become submissive to his touch and melt into his rough palms. 'Don’t stop.’ You don’t mean to sound desperate, but you don’t care. Reaching up, you take a fistful of his hair in your hand and pull. 'Say it again.’ You comply, moaning louder as you tug down on his head. 'Don’t stop.’ Bakugo’s hand abandons your breast. His palm slips over your stomach and approaches the smooth skin of your mound. With his fingertips easing their way under the lip of your underwear, he nips at your ear, growling: 'Open.’ You respond obediently, anxiously opening up your hips to provide him with access to your sex. 'God, you’re so fucking wet.’

His fingers glide over your clit, eased by the slick coating your cunt. The sensation causes you to buck. Releasing your grip on his hair, you move to cover his hand with your own to push him lower, willing him to fill you. That’s all the encouragement he needs. He slips one finger inside you and when it becomes clear that one isn’t enough, he slips in another.

You roll your hips into his hand. His digits stretch you gently, curling up into your walls, easing the aching that he’s caused to build in your cunt. The coil in your stomach tightens impossibly, but it still isn’t enough. You need more. You need all of him. Searching the space behind you, you palm his length through his boxers. 'Katsuki…’ His name tumbles from your mouth all too easily. 'Katsuki, I need – I need you.’ He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to listen to you say his name without getting hard now. He hums, hips pressing into your hand. 'I -.’ He gulps air, trying to calm the hammering in his chest. 'I – haven’t got any…’ 'I’m on the pill.’ 'You mean -.’ His eyes almost bulge from his head. The thought of slipping into you raw makes something stir in his stomach. 'Can I?’ You nod. 'I want it…’ His hands are back at your underwear in seconds. This time, he tugs the pretty lace over the round of your ass and presses himself to you again. Palm resting against your hip, he pinches the fat and snickers at how your spine bends to accommodate him. 'I haven’t – uh – It’s been a while.’ Twisting to face him, you bring a palm up to rest against his cheek. 'I know. I don’t care…’ Your cunt pulses, body cracking as a whine is ripped violently straight from your stomach. 'Please.’ 'Please?’ 'Please.’ You moan, louder, pushing back on him. He hooks an arm under your knee and hoists your leg upwards. Pressing the tip of his cock to your entrance, he wastes no time sliding into you. Your hand is back in his hair instantly. The stretch he gives you is perfect. Back arching, you encourage him deeper until, at last, he bottoms out. Panting, you struggle to adjust to the throbbing of his cock against your walls. 'That okay?’ He kisses you jaw to stifle the moans attempting to claw their way out of his throat. His fingertips dig into the plush flesh of your knee, a failed attempt to ground himself and distract him from how perfect you feel wrapped around him. He fucking knew you’d feel perfect. He fucking knew it. 'Yes, fuck… Yes.’ Your head rolls back, resting against his shoulder as you bask in the stretch of him. 'Feels… You feel…’ Chest heaving, you struggle to speak as your cunt squeezes around him, salivating, craving the friction he’s withholding. 'You too, Princess,’ he mumbles into your neck before removing himself, only to snap back into you a second later. Princess? The pet-name makes your stomach fizz, but you don’t have time to dwell on it before the first of many shock waves crashes over you. The second wave brings with it a series of moans that slip from both of your mouths in-between hushed profanities. Fingers tracing the plain of your throat, he wraps his hand around your neck. With each thrust, he can feel your cunt tighten around him. Your walls constrict him, sending sparks up through his stomach.

Desperate for release, you reach for the puffy skin of your clit. It’s almost obscene how the way he fucks you makes you wish that one of you might have made a move sooner. That he’d just forget that stupid little rule of his for good. He quickens his pace. Taking the skin of your neck between his teeth, he bites down hard almost touching his teeth together through the skin. 'Fuck, can’t - gonna – fuck… I’m gonna cum.’ Body stuttering, his grip on your throat stiffens before finally relaxing completely. He spills inside of you, hot milky liquid seeping into your cunt and filling you. When he stills, he whimpers against your shoulder. 'Sorry. Couldn’t – couldn’t hold back.’ You’re about to turn to him, to sooth his ego when he presses your shoulder to the bed and moves to hover over you. He kisses your collarbone, tone almost pleading as he looks at you through half-lidded eyes. 'Let me – want to make you cum…’ Pausing just long enough for a breathless conformation to leave your mouth, he slats his lips against yours. The kiss is soft. He slips his tongue into your mouth and tastes you delicately before pulling away. His lips reattach to your chin, his teeth nip at your neck and then, he’s dragging up your sleep-shirt and suckling against a nipple. It’s sinful how the flat of his tongue rubbing your breast makes you keen. It causes your stomach to tense, your shoulders to curl forcing you further into his mouth. With one hand balling up your shirt, holding it to your neck and exposing you to him, he lets the other slip down your body. He wastes no time prodding at your entrance with thick fingers and groans when he feels his own release seep over his hand mixed with your arousal. Sinking in, he beckons you to orgasm with a flex of his index finger. He works quickly, diligently, listening to the hitching of your breath and the string of helpless moans that trickle from your mouth when he hits the right spot inside of you. He learns from your body, reacts to your pleasure and controls you effortlessly. Sucking at a nipple, he curls a finger inside you, pressing his thumb to your clit and moans into your skin. That’s it. The coil snaps. Your muscles seize causing you to curl in on yourself, body pulling against his hold only to be pinned down with a harsher grip. You swear you see stars as you squeeze shut your eyes; letting your vision be consumed by the static on the back of your eyelids. You moan unreservedly, letting your hips stutter into his palm. 'Good girl,’ he soothes, raking his teeth along the already blooming bruise on your breast. The simple note of praise, from him no less, sends a shiver across your shoulders and a whole new sensation creeps into your stomach. One you’re already craving more of. He chuckles at the sudden fluster that takes hold of him as you come down from your high. There’s something about how you look with your pupils blow out that makes his stomach flip, but he silences the emotion before it can take root and cause havoc. To distract himself, he kisses your shoulder and slides his fingers from you with a hiss. He can’t help slipping them into his mouth. Something inside of him is desperate to taste you, to have you linger on his tongue and slip down his throat. So, he does. He licks himself clean, swallowing eagerly as your sweetness infests his mouth. 'Fuck.’ You breathe, watching him lap at his own fingers. He cocks an eyebrow, removes his hand from his mouth and sinks back to the mattress facing you. There’s a comfort between you, something soft and lingering that makes his muscles relax, despite the fact he’s just rearranged your guts. 'I have a question.’ You roll onto your side, wincing at the ache he’s left between your thighs and slide your hand under the pillow. 'Shoot.’ 'Is that my t-shirt?’ You pull at the t-shirt. 'Yeah, I think so.’ 'Thief.’ 'I have a question.’ You copy his tone and poke at his shoulder. There are a thousand questions rushing through your head as you struggle to reconceptualise your friendship with

the sting of his fingers fading on your clit. You choose one. 'Have you ever thought about… About us, y'know… Before this, I mean…’ 'Fucking?’ He fills the gap in your sentence easily, flicking up his eyebrows again. You nod. He chews his lip, hoping you can’t see how his chest flushes red in the dark. 'So what if I have?’ 'When?’ 'School,’ He shrugs. You bite back the smile that rises to your lips. 'Not any other time then?’

'I didn’t say that.’ An unfamiliar hoard of butterflies begin to beat their wings against your ribs. 'So…’ You press. 'Why’re you interrogating me all of a sudden?’ He snaps. This was all getting a little too cosy for his liking. What the fuck had he gotten himself into? Cursing himself for letting his cock take the lead, he rolls his lip between his teeth and sighs. You push yourself up onto an elbow. 'You don’t have to answer, arsehole.’ He rolls his head to face you again, ignoring the hiccough that lurches in his throat as his eyes catch yours. 'Of course, I’ve thought about it. I’m a guy, aren’t I?’ 'What’s that got to do with anything?’ He shrugs. If you were going to keep on questioning him like this, he was sure to admit to something he would regret. 'My turn.’ 'I thought this was an interrogation, not twenty-fucking questions.’

Suppressing a smile, he forces his eyebrows to furrow on his forehead. It’s nice, this, whatever this is and part of him hates it. 'You’re lucky I’m tired or I’d blast you straight through the door.’ 'Is that a promise?’ You wink. 'Fucking sex pest.’ 'I’m a sex pest?’ You snort. 'I’m sorry, but who’s hard-on did I unceremoniously back into before?’ 'Same hard-on you were begging for.’ He feels his soft palate with his tongue before imitating one of your breathy moans. 'Please, Katsuki, please.’ You grind your teeth. 'Listen here, you bastard.’ Shifting awkwardly, he swallows more of the warmth spreading through his chest and ignores the urge to take your chin in his hand to kiss you. You’re peering up at him, head tilted lazily into the pillow looking so damn perfect in his bed, with his cum dripping down your thighs and – that’s when reality jams itself down his throat.

Hero work and relationships never did get along comfortably. There was always someone else to save, another late-night patrol, another emergency demanding his attention. It’s a never-ending cycle of having too much to do and too little time. Too little time for you, for whatever he had just started. 'You’re a prick,’ he mutters. 'Takes one to know one.’ You shoot back. 'You’ve got me there.’ Checking his phone on the night-stand, he groans. 'It’s almost three.’ 'I should clean up…’ You lift from the bed at the same time he does. 'Let me…’ Twisting, he helps you from the bed and leads you gingerly into his en-suite. He spends the next few minutes rubbing gentle circles in your skin with a warm cloth while you perch on the edge of the bath. On his knees in front of you, he works in silence, washing the evidence from your body. When your body is dry again, you return the favour. He keeps his eyes closed when you bathe him, letting you move him at your whim. You smooth over his hip, rub the cloth against the left ditch of his 'v’ and watch his breathing pick up. His cock twitches and you’re tempted to take it into your mouth, to drag your tongue down the thick vein hidden underneath, but he reads your mind and stops you. One eye opens, a smile tugging his lip as he reaches for you and pulls you back to your feet. Rationality has returned to him and now, all he feels is panic. Panic for what has just happened. Panic because he knows what happens next, he always known and he fucked you anyway. 'We should sleep.’ You yawn an agreement and put down the cloth before venturing back into the bedroom and settling back against the mattress. Not long after he settles too. His back presses against yours, his calves parting just enough for you to slip an ankle through the gap.

You fall asleep easily and when you awake to the light seeping into his room through the blinds, he’s gone. There’s a note on the night-stand. It tells you that there was an early-hour emergency that had needed him on scene and he hadn’t wanted to wake you. He’d ended it: 'Had to go to work – sorry.’

Bakugo’s thighs ache as he climbs the stairs to his apartment. The muscles sting with each step, although he’s not sure if it’s because of the hours spent hauling civilians from a burning factory or the fact he got laid for the first time in almost four years last night.

What he does know, is that he’s thankful to be home. Hand reaching out to twist the doorknob of his front door, he pauses to haul in a breath.

It’s almost mid-day, so he’s pretty sure you’ve gone home, but something sinks in his stomach at the thought of returning to an empty bed. He squashes it in favour of thinking of the cold shower he’s about to throw himself into. Throwing open the door, he’s stopped dead before he can get further that the living room. 'So.’ Kirishima is cooking, which is already a worry, but it’s the shit-eating grin etched onto his face that makes Bakugo groan. 'What?’ Kirishima’s eyebrows dance up and down on his forehead as he flips a spatula in his hand. He drops it, collects it off of the ground and flips it again, catching it successfully. 'Imagine my surprise when I got home from patrol this morning and -.’ 'Get to the point, I’m fucking sweating.’ Bakugo sighs. He already knows where this is going and he’d rather get the obligatory teasing over quickly rather than dwell on it. 'You finally fucked, huh.’ 'Something like that, yeah.’ 'So.’ Kirishima pops his hip, digging a large hand into his pelvis.

'What do you mean, so?’ 'I mean so… Have you told her -.’ Bakugo grits his teeth.

‘So I’m going to assume you’ve not told her about the interview either?’

'No and I'm not going to and if you do, I will fillet you and serve you to Kaminari and Sero with a side of rice.’ He points at his room-mate, glaring as his eyebrows flatten over his eyes. Laughing, Kirishima lifts his hands in surrender. He turns his attention to whatever the Hell is currently burning in his frying pan and panics for a second before sighing. Shoulders sagging, he pokes the crispy remains of his lunch with the spatula and grimaces. 'I’m just saying, you’ve kind of opened Pandora’s box now, y'know.’ 'What the fuck is that supposed to mean?’ Trying to ignore the blackened and charred contents of Kirishima’s pan as he tips it into the bin, Bakugo resists the urge to just blast Kirishima in the face to get him to stop talking. It’s not like it would do any good anyway. He’s done it before. Kirishima’s reflexes where almost as good as his own and he’d certainly have activated his quirk before he even managed to get near him. 'Well you like her right… I mean you’ve always liked her, but you were an idiot and then you decided to do that whole… What d'you call it?’ Bakugo mumbles. 'No Sex Before Number One.’ 'That’s it. You decided to do that, but you’re still number five and now you’ve fucked so.’ He mimes opening a box with his hands. 'You see…’ 'No.’ Bakugo rolls his eyes. 'No, I don’t see.’ Kirishima shrugs, a smile still playing at his lip.

Storming across the room, Bakugo almost makes it to his bedroom before his legs are locking underneath him and he’s spinning on his heel. He knows he’s only been hooked by Kirishima’s teasing because there’s a grain of truth to what he’s saying, but his retort is flying from his mouth before he can stop it. 'It’s just sex.’ 'Okay,’ Kirishima smiles, nodding. 'Dude, we’ve fucked. We’re still friends and it’s not like anything’s changed. It’ll be fine.’ There’s a desperation to his voice that he doesn’t immediately recognise as denial. 'Really, that's what you're going with?' Kirishima gives up on cooking and throws open a cupboard, retrieving a packet of instant ramen from one of the shelves. He lifts his eyebrows, challenging Bakugo to say something else dismissive. 'Oh, fuck off.’ Bakugo huffs. 'You know I can’t.’ He can feel his walls beginning to shake, the lump in his throat lifting and allowing the emotions he’s being trying to bottle-up to slip to the surface. 'It’d be a fucking mess. I haven’t got time for -.’ 'You know I think your just scared of your own emotions, right?.’ Kirishima shrugs 'I think you’d make a great couple, but it’s your loss.’ He busies himself with the ramen, pretending that they haven’t had this conversation before. 'She deserves someone who’s got all the time in the world for her.’ 'So make time.’ Bakugo growls. 'You’re taking the piss, if it was that easy don’t you think I would have just made time already?’ 'I’ll make time for her then.’ Kirishima’s watches as Bakugo’s jaw tenses, watches the vein that begins to pulse below the skin of his forehead. He’s pushing his luck and he knows it, but unfortunately for Bakugo he doesn’t care. 'We get on, she thinks I’m charming.’ 'You wouldn’t dare.’ Bakugo’s mouth runs dry. 'Can’t expect her to stay single forever, dude.’ Kirishima frowns lifting a spoonful of ramen to his mouth. 'If you’re not going to shoot your shot, might as well step aside for someone who’s going to treat her right.’ Bakugo freezes up and he wonders if he’s gone too far with his goading. 'Do what you want.’ 'Are you serious?’ Eye’s widening, Kirishima huffs shaking his head. 'You’ve got nothing to say? At all? You’re just going to let me try and fuck the girl you’ve been desperate for since -.’ 'Told you, I don’t care.’ Legs unlocking, Bakugo makes for his room. His head burns, the image of you and Kirishima lips-locked turns his stomach. 'You’re a stubborn bastard sometimes, you know!’ Kirishima’s voice follows him even as he slams shut the door to his bedroom and collapses against the wood. His eyes drift to the bed. It’s been made, the duvet neatly tucked back into place. No-one would suspect that he had fucked you for the first time right there, in that bed only a few hours ago. He swallows, trying in vain to block out the faint echoes of your voice in his head. 'It was just sex… Just sex, it didn’t mean anything…’ He mumbles under his breath, hand covering his eyes as he tries to manually massage the images of you panting as he pressed into you again and again and again from his brain, but the more he tries to push you from his head, the more he thinks about it.

Hand reaching for his pocket, he pauses, hovering over his phone. What would he even say to you? Would you want to talk to him? What if Kirishima was being serious and the next time he saw you, it was slinking out of the bedroom opposite his. He’s about to reach in, to make up some shitty excuse to see you again when his phone buzzes. There’s a hostage situation on the south side that needs his attention. Everything else would have to wait. Sighing, he pushes himself off of the door. Hero work left little time for anything else, there was always someone else to save, another late-night patrol, another emergency demanding his attention – another thing keeping him away from you.

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#bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bakugo angst #beforenumberone #saturnsorbits #saturnscribbles

[saturnsorbits]

Before Number One: Masterlist

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Angst, Smut, Use of Ground Zero as Bakugo’s hero name, Happy Ending. Word Count: 20k, Status: Complete. Summary: Hero work leaves little time for anything that isn’t hero work. Bakugo knows that, but it doesn’t make him want you any less.

Chapter List

1) The First Time, 2) The Last Time, 3) The Time After, 4) Epilogue.

-> Masterlist

#bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #beforenumberone #saturnsorbits #saturnscribbles

[saturnsorbits]

BNO: Epilogue

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Smut, Oral [F-Receiving], Fluff (Finally), Word Count: 2.5k.

A/N: So, it’s finished! Thank you to everyone who has liked/reblogged or left a little comment on this - it really has meant a lot. 🤍

-> Series Masterlist

'Are you mad?'

Bakugo is staring at the TV, watching as Midoriya's face flashes up on the screen. Since his crowning as number one, it has become impossible to avoid the media frenzy that has surrounded him. This is forth interview that has been broadcast of him today alone and even then, that's just been the one's Bakugo has unfortunately managed to stumble across while flicking through the channels.

Pausing at the breakfast bar, you pout raking your eyes over the back of his head as he sinks further into the sofa.

Throwing an arm over the back of the sofa, he twists until his eyes catch yours. He gets mad about Midoriya sometimes, sure, he won't lie about that. Everything he thought he'd ever wanted had been right there, taunting him with just how in reach it was, until... Well, life has a funny way of showing you what you really want. He tilts his head, reading the faint upward curve in your eyebrows before letting a smile twitch at his lip. Even now, just looking at you is enough to make his heart feel as if it's about to give out. He flicks off the TV, the thought of seeing Midoriya's face grinning on the screen less reasonable by the second. There's better things for him to look at now. 'C'mere.'

'Katsuki.' You tut, stepping out from behind the island to dig a fist into your hip. 'You didn't answer...'

'Don't say my name like that.' He groans, shifting to relieve the slowly fattening half-chub in his sweats

'Why?' Popping your hip, you blink at him: pretending.

Still pressing at his crotch, he glares at you. 'Don't play dumb, it doesn't suit you.'

'But usually you're all...' You lower your voice, feeling it vibrate in the back of your throat as you mimic him and throw in a crude thrust of your hips for good measure. 'Say my name - again - say my name...'

'You're insufferable.' He growls, jaw locking.

'No. You...' Chuckling, you tilt your head. 'You've still got time before patrol, right?'

He nods. From where he's sat on the couch, he's got a full view of you lingering in the kitchenette. The bed shirt you've stolen from him all those years ago cascades over your chest and falls to your thighs. He knows you're not wearing anything underneath and if he focuses, he can see the stiff peaks of your nipples straining against the material. His cock twitches, weeping against his boxers.

The way his shoulder shifts calls your attention to the slow, languid passes of his palm over his cock. You can picture it, aching just below his hand, anxious to slip into your wet heat. 'Need some help?' You grin, lifting them hem of the t-shirt to show him bare cunt and soft stomach.

'What the fuck are you still doing over there, c'mere.' He stretches out a hand, beckoning you over with a curled finger. You where driving him insane. It's the first morning you've been able to spend together in almost three weeks and he intends to make the most of it. Hand cupping his balls over the fabric of his boxers, he squeezes gently. How he's still full and hard is a fucking mystery. Already you've sucked his soul clean from his body and ridden out what little had remained, but the stiffness under his palm is undeniable.

Drifting off to join him on the sofa, you slot easily into his side when you collapse to the cushion.

'I’m gonna beat him next year… ‘n I don’t regret choosing you over that damn job; didn’t fucking need it anyway, did I?' He cups your neck, thumb skating over your cheek as he admires they way you nuzzle into his palm and melt under the touch, the tension slipping from your shoulders.

You place a delicate kiss on his skin where thumb meets palm, placated by his reassurance. ‘Remember when we got caught leaving that stupid noodle bar holding hands…’ You smirk, eyebrows rising as you giggle. ‘I’ll let you kiss me next time, work on getting you that number two spot, huh? Your agent says I'm good for your image.'

He rolls his eyes, hard, straining the muscle behind them. ‘Us ain’t got fuck all to do with ratings and you know it.'

You do, but that doesn't make it any less fun to tease him. 'So what, you trying to tell me this has something to do with me being the love of your life or something like that, huh?'

Lifting his free hand to his throat, he presses an index finger to his jugular feeling for the thrumming under his skin that he doesn't think he'll ever get used to. He blushes from his ears down, bathing his skin in a bright tinge of red that creeps across his cheekbones and ruddys his complexion. 'Something like that...' He mumbles, suddenly shy.

Tilting into him, you lay your palms on his chest before bringing your lips back to his. You don't push him for a more concrete reply, you don't need to – his kiss says more than enough. Sucking at his bottom lip, you nibble the flesh before pulling back, smiling.

A sigh breaches his throat when you release him, leaving him to readjust to the peaceful thundering in his chest. 'What the fuck did I do to deserve you?'

Cocking an eyebrow, you smirk. 'More like what did I do to get stuck with you, I don't remember doing anything bad enough to warrant this.'

Pulling back further, he sucks air over his teeth making a show of being annoyed. His whole body is calling out for you, begging to be touched, to feel and taste. 'Cheeky...' He leans in, nose bumping yours.

'You love it.'

He does. There's no denying that. Pressing in the rest of the way, he pecks your lips once before pulling back again to look at you. The panic that had lived inside of him for so long has gone, leaving him unfettered and free. It makes him dizzy and unable to control his tongue. He's fighting a smile when he next speaks. 'Still doesn't feel real.'

'What?' You pull back, eyebrows furrowing as you try and focus on his voice and not the slow movement of his thumb on your cheek that is still making you melt.

'Being your boyfriend.' A second blush breaks out across his cheeks, spreading from the tips of his ears to the dip of his collarbones, but he hides it by burying his face into the swell of your chest.

You chew your lip, lacing a hand into blonde hair to tug gently. 'My what?'

Clicking his tongue, he looks up, deliberately meeting your eye again. 'Your boyfriend.' He lets the 'B' pop in his mouth and curl his lips. It tastes sweet when he rolls the word around in his mouth, makes him want to chant it and whisper it into your ears. He's never been a 'boyfriend' before, but he'll be damned if he's not going to be the best one you've ever had and with any luck, he'll be the last too. His heart stammers thinking of all the other titles he'll come to wear for you, shedding boyfriend for fiancé and finally, relinquishing that to become: husband.

Butterflies land in your stomach. 'I like hearing you say that.'

'Hmm, say what?' He smarts.

It makes you feel like a teenager. There's a heat creeping inside of you that you never want to leave as the butterflies stretch their wings and bat lazily against your ribs. 'That you're my boyfriend.'

He hums, making a show of thinking for a moment before pressing a kiss to your lips. 'I think I like hearing it too.'

The kiss deepens in a matter of seconds, both of you lost to feel of each other as hands explore places they've been thousands of times, but it's you that pulls away first. 'Want you...'

'You've got me.' He meets your desperation with equal vigour before reuniting your lips. ''m yours. All yours, Princess.'

You squeak, caught between a moan and a yelp as his hands take your waist and suddenly, you're being lifted.

He twists, throwing himself lengthways onto the couch only to drag you over him as he falls. Already he can feel your cunt warm and wet pressing to his stomach, dampening the black of his shirt. His cock jerks, straining against his sweats, adding its own stain to his clothing. Gripping you hips, he squeezes, kneads at the fat of your ass. 'Sit on my face.' He rubs his thumbs over the junction of your thigh. 'Wanna taste you.'

Your cunt clenches and then, strong arms are slipping underneath you and pulling as he helps you shimmy further up his body. With your knees planted at either side of his head and your legs splayed, you're left exposed, at his mercy as he comfies himself on the cushion below.

He wastes no time before burying his face in your cunt. 'Fuck, Princess – smell so good.'

'Katsuki...' You whine and tug at his hair. His nose grazes your clit, sending a dull shiver up your spine and you tighten your grip, raking blunt nails across his scalp to earn yourself a groan in return.

'I got you..'

You hear him smirk before the broad flat of his tongue is dragged leisurely through your folds.

Moaning, he gathers as much of you on his tongue as he can before slipping the wet muscle inside of you. He loves how you taste, how you rock against him and squirm trying to ride his face. Like this, with your thighs clamping around his head and your legs held down by rough hands, you're completely at his mercy and fuck, does he love it.

He sucks on your clit before you have time to recover from the assault of his tongue mapping its way inside of you and you're forced forward as a wave of blinding pleasure rocks through your core. It makes your thighs shake, your stomach tensing as you sail toward a climax that is coming all too quick. 'Stop, m'getting close. Wanna, want to cum on your cock – please.'

Pride spreads through his chest when hears your voice taper to a whine. You're so close he can already taste it, your cunt already sensitive and needy from a morning of fun. Pulling back, he admires the way you drip back to his lips, skin shining with spit and slick. 'Na-ah. Want to taste. Cock later, cum now.'

You're tempted to argue, to throw a tantrum and demand him, but you're not given the chance. All's it takes is his tongue back flicking against your clit in a practised move before your body submits again. Getting hold of your senses, the haze around your brain settles for just long enough to register the soft slicking of skin wrapping skin. 'Are you? Fuck...' You really hope that's what you think it is. 'Are you touching yourself?

He hums, sending rippling shock-waves up through your cunt. While one of his hands has made its home in the crease of your thigh, keeping you held tight to his face, the other has journeyed south. Pre-cum peals at the head of his cock, making each pass easy and loud.

You're almost there, lingering at the edge of bliss as he fights to keep fucking into you with his tongue when a phone begins ringing somewhere in the apartment.

'Fuck.' Swearing into your cunt, he pulls away reluctantly, catching your eye as you start to scramble off him. 'Mine or yours?'

The shaking in your legs is only made worse when your feet meet the hardwood. Your thighs threaten to give in, causing you to wobble as you stumble towards where your phone is laying, long forgotten, on the breakfast bar. Snatching it from the counter, you turn it over to reveal a black screen. 'It's you.'

'Fucking course it is...' Scrambling to his feet, he shoves his cock away and pats at his hips, hand dipping into the pockets of his sweats only to re-emerge moments later empty. 'Fuck.' He hits his knees, slipping his palms under and between the couch cushions in an attempt to locate the ringing. It takes a second, a fair amount of swearing and then, he's yanking back his arm and swiping at his phone's screen answering the call. 'This better be important.'

You turn your phone over in your hand. This isn't the first time you've had an orgasm snatched away by an emergency, it comes with the job, but Bakugo always does his best to make up for every single interruption.

He growls when the call ends and collapses back to the couch. 'Red's gonna need me down town in fifteen, his patrol partner's called in...' He groans, turning his hand over and ushering you back to him with a flex of his fingers.

'That's too bad.' Moving to stand in front of him, you bite at your lip before tossing your phone to the couch. He reaches out to you, his hand tracing the curves of your body from knee to thigh, drawing your t-shirt up as he brushes his fingertips across your hip bone. You sink back to the couch with a knee at each side of his hips, ignoring the questioning glance he shoots you before taking his still hard cock back out of his sweats and giving it a healthy tug. 'Think you can finish me off in five?'

'You doubting me?' He grins before letting you sink down onto him without further warning. Well if that's how you wanted to play it.

One of his hands wraps your hip, holding you still as he thrusts up, grinding his hips into your cunt with an almost brutal force. A moan rattles in your chest, catching in your throat as your whole body becomes a live-wire of pleasure.

He lifts his free hand to your mouth and presses gingerly at your lips. 'Suck'.

You do as your told, letting your mouth drop open to welcome in the two thick fingers he gives you. Sucking gently, you're thankful for the intrusion when the hand at your hip slips to allow him to thumb at your clit. The tension in your stomach builds quickly, almost blinding you as you hurdle towards release. 'Kat – Katsuki – m'gonna.'

'Cum, Princess. Go on.' He's watching you, eyes glued to the flutter of your eyelashes as you cum and tense around him. It doesn't take long for him to follow, spilling into your cunt with a low groan.

You collapse onto him as his cum begins to spill out around his softening cock, but you're not given long in the afterglow before your phone begins to chirp. Reaching for it, you have to blink to focus your vision before you can read the message that shines back at you. 'Need to go. Midoriya needs me for a rescue.'

He nods, smoothing his hands over your sides for a second before stilling. A grin spreads on his face when you sit up to clamber back off him. 'I've got a question.'

You roll your eyes, but indulge him. You always do. 'Do you now?'

'Go out with me tonight?' He leans back, not bothering to stop the smile that rises to his lips. Part of him still can’t quite understand why he spent so long thinking he couldn’t have both, you and being a hero; especially when having it all comes so fucking easy. 'That noodle bar is open twenty-four hours.'

'You just want that kiss…' You wink.

‘I want all of your kisses…’ He moves to reach for you, eyes shining, as your phone begins blurring again, Todoroki this time and the moment is re-shattered, forcing both of you to leap into action. ‘Fuck. I’ll pick you up tonight, when you get off. Yeah?’

‘It’s a date.’

Hero work leaves little time for anything that isn't hero work, but Bakugo will always make time for you.

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#bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #beforenumberone #saturnsorbits #saturnscribbles

[saturnsorbits]

BNO: The Time After

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Angst, Smut, Miscommunication, This Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Happy Ending! Word Count: 6k.

A/N: Hi. Uhm. I'm so nervous about posting this. It fought me tooth and nail every step of the way (it kind of still is), so if it’s missed the mark: oops, I guess?

-> Series Masterlist

Bakugo sits outside of the conference room, chewing at his thumb. The committee inside have been deliberating for almost an hour and his nerves have started to fray. It had taken months to get here, to be sat in this badly upholstered chair and he'd be damned if everything he had sacrificed would go to waste. The interview had gone well, or so he thought, but there was still one problem.

Midoriya sits beside him, offering up a thin-lipped smile and raised eyebrows.

'Stop fucking staring.'

'I...' Clearing his throat, Midoriya knits his hands together on his lap. 'I was just wondering if you've spoken to -.'

Bakugo doesn't let him finish. He doesn't want to hear your name drop from his mouth, followed by the pitiful stare that would follow. Everyone gives him that look these days. The one that makes his stomach churn and his mind drift back to nights that he's tried and failed to forget. With a snarl, he gives Midoriya the same answer he gives everyone else. 'Fucking mind your own business.'

'I was just -.'

'Yeah, well fucking don't. We're here for a job, not to catch-up...' Bakugo growls, eyebrows flattening as he clenches his teeth. He forces a warm breath out, swallowing around the lump in his throat before gritting out a shallow: 'Just – I don't want to talk about it.'

'No, it's okay. I shouldn't pry.' Holding up his hands, palms flat, Midoriya sinks back into his seat. Fidgeting, he worries his lip. 'I – Well, we've been patrolling together and I really think she -.'

It's the conference room door swinging open that saves Bakugo this time. Both men rise to their feet and hold their breath, anxious as a tall man wearing a pin-striped suit emerges from the room.

The man smiles. 'First, I'd like to thank both of you for coming in today – I know the interview process has been a little more rigorous than for other missions and we really do appreciate you jumping through all of our hoops. We know this position in particular will likely carry a lot of weight when it comes to the rankings, but we think we've finally found the man.'

Bakugo's whole body tenses. If he doesn't get the job, it's all been for nothing. The obsessive work-load, the refusal to take time off, the pushing you away; all of it would have been for absolutely fucking nothing.

'Deku -.'

Fuck.

'I'm very sorry, but on this occasion we've decided to go with Ground Zero.'

Eyes blowing wide, he savours the tingling sensation in his chest as his whole body sings with pure excitement. He resists the urge to flip Midoriya off, restraining himself enough to throw only the smuggest smile he can muster over his shoulder.

'My apologies, Deku.' The suit bows.

The smile Midoriya pastes onto his face doesn't quite cover the disappointment that echoes in his eyes, but he pats Bakugo cautiously on the shoulder to congratulate him all the same. Even after all this time, old rivalry's die hard. 'You chose the best man for it, I'm sure.'

Bakugo shrugs him off immediately. 'Course they fucking did.' He steps forward, crushing the suits hand in a handshake, beaming from ear to ear. He can almost taste what it's going to be like when he takes the number one spot, can almost hear the roar of cheers that'll almost deafen him as he delivers the speech he's had prepared since he was five years old.

'We'll prepare a full brief for you in the next week, until then, I'm sure you have people you want to celebrate with.' The suit winces when he gets his hand back, shaking out crushed fingers. 'We look forward to working with you Ground Zero.'

Floating almost six feet off the ground, Bakugo flashes a signature smirk at his new employer before stomping his way down the hall. Midoriya follow on his heels, adding an extra half-an-inch to his strides in order to keep up.

'We...' He mutters. 'We should, uhm, we should go out – you know to celebrate.'

Stopping in his tracks, Bakugo fixes Midoriya with a stare. 'Like I'd want to celebrate with you, Deku...' The growl in his throat is light, his body still riding too much of a high to bother with its usual gravelled timbre.

Midoriya chuckles, shaking his head as another slither of disappointment inches into his chest. He doesn't press Bakugo any further when he receives another annoyed snarl. 'Anyway, I should get back. I'm heading over to -.'

'I didn't ask.' Bakugo mutters, already jabbing at his phone and ignoring whatever Midoriya is saying in favour of scrolling down his contact list. Thumb hovering over his screen, he freezes. There's only one person he wants to celebrate with...

Victory has never tasted so bitter.

Bakugo slams open the door of his apartment. 'Red?'

'How did it go?' Stood in front of the living room mirror, Kirishima smears cologne along the length of his collarbone.

The excitement in Bakugo's chest has been tempered by the walk home. The numbness brought on by shoving his phone into his pocket, your number left un-dialled, had seen to that. It shouldn't be like this. He should be punching the air, figuratively foaming at the mouth to tell everyone about the damn job, but when confronted with the perfect opportunity: he changes the subject. 'You smell like a fucking candle factory.'

'I'm going out for dinner, remember? That new pro from the UK invited me out last week, I told you -.' Kirishima doesn't look at him when he speaks, inspecting the glinting silver of his cuffs instead.

Ever since he'd returned home from your apartment, red-eyed and ragged, something has shifted between him and Kirishima. It's uncomfortable, navigating the egg shells that have scattered on the floor of their friendship, but at this point he doesn't really have a choice. He's lost too much already to risk losing him too. 'He the new flavour of the month then?'

Twisting his shoulders, Kirishima lets his eyes roam over the thin, black dress-shirt that barely manages to contain the broad expanse of his chest. 'It's not a date. Just, y'know... Dinner.'

Rolling his eyes, Bakugo arches his eyebrow before moving to lean against the breakfast bar. 'I can see your dick print and you're expecting me to believe you're not trying to get laid?'

Kirishima shrugs.

Clenching his jaw, Bakugo blows hot air out of his nose. 'Are you still angry? You've been acting like I've pissed in your cornflakes for months.'

'I'm not mad.'

'Tell your face that.'

'I'm just -.' Digging a hand into his hip, Kirishima chews at his lip.

'Yeah.' Annoyance itches at Bakugo's temples as he recalls the series of arguments that have littered their lives. The scolding he'd received as he slunk home and cried in his room, the frustrated huffs and tensed jaws as they'd bickered when he revealed that he had no intention of trying to call you. 'You're just disappointed in me, or whatever.'

Kirishima barks out a laugh. 'I just think you're being a prick.'

'See!' Bakugo's eyes widen, jaw dropping. 'You are pissed, you're fucking swearing.'

Biting his tongue, Kirishima drops his head and sighs. 'How did it go... The interview, you didn't say.'

A smile rises to Bakugo's lip. There's something shining in Kirishima's eyes, that threatens to spark the dying fire in his chest. 'I got it.'

Turning to face him, Kirishima beams. 'Holy shit, bro.'

Excitement and pride bubble in Bakugo's stomach until his smile is so wide, he's flashing incisors. Now, this is more like it, this is how he should be feeling. 'They handed me that shit on a silver platter. Told me in front of Deku and everything. You guys aren't going to know what's fucking hit you when I get back.'

Pursing his lip, Kirishima frowns. 'Back?'

'The missions in Europe, spend a while working underground and then, it’s a straight ride to number one.' He mimes a flying plane, taking off from the flat of his palm and wiggles his eyebrows.

‘How long is a while…’

‘Six months minimum, two or three years tops.’ Bakugo shrugs. ‘However long it takes.’

'That's a long time...'

'I don't give a fuck how long they have me out there. It's too good of an opportunity to turn down. This – This is what I've been waiting for..'

Kirishima swallows. 'Yeah.'

The crease between Kirishima's eyebrows grates at Bakugo's nerves, causing annoyance to rise in his throat and choke him. The air in the room goes stale. 'Yeah? That's all you got? I've just told you -.'

'Nah – yeah. I mean.' Squeezing his eyes shut, Kirishima shakes his head forcing a mega-watt grin back to his lips. 'I'm happy for you! I really – I am really – You deserve it, bro.'

Bakugo huffs. He does deserve it, he knows he does. 'Thanks.'

There's a pause and then, Kirishima is shuffling his feet and clawing at his bottom lip. 'Are you gonna tell her?'

There it is. The numbness settles back into Bakugo's sternum like it belongs there, snuffing out his excitement entirely. 'No.' Wiping a palm down his face, he licks at his soft palate trying to rid his mouth of the sourness.

'I just -.'

'How many times do I have to tell you that she doesn't want anything to fucking do with me?' They're in familiar territory now, running loops of the same argument. 'What part of that is so hard for you to understand?'

Kirishima glares. 'The part where it's all bullshit.'

'Oh, what the fuck do you know?' Bakugo throws his arms up, snarling. His tongue finds a back molar as his face burns up.

'I know she'd want you to tell her that you're leaving the country for half a year.'

'Yeah, well.'

Sighing, Kirishima tilts his head, eyes narrowing. 'Why do you always do this?'

'What?'

'Run.'

Bakugo reaches for a salt-shaker, prepares to throw it.

'As soon as you realise you could be happy, you get scared and turn right back into who you were at fifteen: pig-headed, stubborn and too blinkered for your own good.' Kirishima feels it, the subtle push of anger that builds at the base of his skull. It's been months of this, months of watching Bakugo hide every time he glances at his phone hoping you've messaged, of him mumbling your name in his sleep when he passes out on the sofa because of all the extra shifts he's taking. It's like he's trying to prove a point, but Kirishima isn't sure if even he knows who he's trying to convince. 'There's a woman downstairs that makes you the happiest I've ever seen you, but you're here, boasting about some job you don't even want because -.'

'Oh, fuck you.'

'You know I'm right.'

The air feels tight. It snakes into Bakugo's lungs and makes him want to be sick.

'I don't know why you've convinced yourself that you can't have both -.'

'You fucking know why!' Bakugo tightens his grip on the salt shaker making the glass splinter in his palm.

Kirishima licks at his lip, shaking his head. ‘I really don't... You don't have to prove yourself to earn happiness, Kat. That's - that's not how it works...'

Bakugo's head spins. Kirishima's voice scrapes along the insides of his skull, forcing him to confront the tangle of emotions he'd unleashed that first night he'd touched you. He thought he'd be able to push it down, to brush it off, but - He snorts, catching Kirishima's eye. 'Fucking Pandora's box, huh. Is that what you where -.'

'I’m not arguing with you.’ Checking his watch, Kirishima offers Bakugo a tight-lipped smile. 'I've got to go. Text her, at least. You can't just vanish, regardless of how much you've fucked up.'

Slinking off to the couch, Bakugo fumbles in his pocket for his phone as the door slams, leaving him alone. He throws it to the coffee table and stares at it. There's been an emptiness infesting him since that night, a cold weight that resists all of his attempts to shift it.

'Let's try...'

Your voice echoes in his head. You'd been shaking when you said it, your lips so close to his that he could feel the vibrations of your breath.

From the coffee table, his phone taunts him. The black screen is mocking: a reflective reminder of everything he could have, everything he's kept from himself and... for what? He isn't so sure any more. Forcing himself to his feet, he storms to the kitchenette and dips into one of the top cupboards. He returns to his phone with a glass of whiskey.

One drink.

He promises himself one drink to steel his nerves and then, he'll do better than texting you, he'll just knock on your door and tell you he's leaving.

The knocking makes you jump, causing the wine glass you're holding to almost spill across the counter. The liquid spreads, creeping across the surface until it almost soaks into the crust of one of the pizza's laying on the breakfast bar. 'Fuck...'

'Do you want me to get it?'

A voice floats in from the bathroom, but you're already moving, body on autopilot as you abandon the spill and head for the door. 'No. No – just sit down. It'll probably be that guy from 104 wanting to borrow sugar again.'

There's no answer from your guest, but you hear the sound of ass meeting cushion behind you, telling you that he's at least obeyed your order. Wrapping a hand around the door handle, you huff out a breath preparing to tell your neighbour that you really can't spare any more sugar, but as soon as the door swings open it becomes apparent that nothing could have prepared you for this.

Bakugo stares at his feet. 'Uh.'

You swallow, arm tensing around the back of the door. Its been months, fucking months since you'd been plunged into the worst heartbreak of your life and yet, your stomach still twists when you look at him. 'What are you doing here?'

'Can I come in?' Bakugo chances a look at you. The air is kicked straight from his lungs as soon as he sees your face, cheeks full and warm, a faint wetness clinging to your lips like you'd just taken a drink, or been kissed.

Stepping aside, you nod, hauling in a breath.

As soon as he steps over the threshold, he pauses, brain re-booting as quickly as it can manage, giving him exactly two seconds before he makes a wide leap to his next conclusion. His chest heaves, fists balling at his sides as he stares at Midoriya sat on your sofa. Anger rises inside of him in a way that hasn't happened since he was a teenager. His palms heat as faint pops ring out from his clenched fists. 'What the fuck is this, huh?'

The soft click of the door echoes when you finally tap it shut, but Midoriya is already on his feet. 'Hi, uh – Kaachan.'

'You – fuck... You bastard.' It feels like his chest is going to explode. There's a pressure behind his eyes that feels as though it might pop his skull and he's not sure if it's anger or something stronger turning his vein's to ice.

Midoriya tilts his head, thumbing at his eyes. 'What? We were – oh...' His eyes widen, realisation hitting him square in the jaw. 'Oh, no, no, no we weren't... I just, I wanted company because of – y'know and – we, well we...'

Reeling back, Bakugo looks as if he's fit to start a fight, but he stops short when you appear in front of him. His heart stutters in his chest.

There's a kindling building in your stomach that threatens to sharpen your tongue, but one look at the ocean beginning to swell in his eyes dampens it's flames. 'He doesn't have to explain anything to you.'

Bakugo grinds his teeth as betrayal wedges itself under his lungs. 'So you're fucking him now, is that it?'

Licking at your lip, you step towards him, drawing his eyes back to you. You have half a mind to scream, to curse him out and make him feel all of the hurt you've carried with you since he left, but you don't. Instead, you sigh. 'What do you want?'

Turning to leave, he refuses to spare Midoriya another glance. If he stays any longer he doesn't know what he'll do. 'Doesn't fucking matter.'

'If you walk out of that door now, you don't fucking come back.' Your voice shakes in your throat, but you stand your ground. 'I mean it...'

He spins on his heel, still glaring, but unable to force himself out of the door. 'Well, I ain't saying shit while he's here...'

You shake your head, before turning to Midoriya and offering up a pained smile. 'Are you going to be okay?'

Midoriya nods.

'Sure he can cope without getting his dick wet for a few minutes, I ain't gonna be long.' Bakugo snorts, leaning heavily on the wall by the door, his hands tucked into the crooks of his elbows to disguise how much he's shaking.

Heading for the door, Midoriya knocks against your shoulder gently. He pauses, chewing at the inside of his cheek. 'I – I didn't want to – to cause...' He swallows, Adam's apple bobbling as he looks from you to Bakugo and back again.

Brow furrowing, Bakugo glares. He hadn't noticed before, too blinded by the heat in his chest, but Midoriya has been crying. The skin around his eyes is puffy and streaked, his freckles standing out stark against reddened skin.

You shake your head, silencing Midoriya's stammering. 'It's okay 'Zuku... I'll check in later, yeah?'

With a curt nod and bounce of green curls, Midoriya is gone.

The slamming door jostles Bakugo and prods at the sickness wriggling in his stomach. The thought of you with another man burns hot, flaying him from the inside out. 'So it's 'Zuku now, is it?'

'Do you have to be such a cunt all the fucking time? Take a day off.' You step into his space automatically, adrenaline thrumming under your skin. Part of you wants to slap him, to dig your nails into his scalp and scream until he's too deaf to argue, but you settle on jutting out your chin and glaring at him.

Bakugo's nostrils flare. 'I'm not the one fucking shitty Deku...' He pushes off the wall, putting you chest to chest.

Throwing your head back, you let a chuckle spill over your lips. You blink, pressing in closer to jab him in the chest. 'You are fucking insufferable, you know that?'

'You like fucking things you can't stand then, huh?' He grinds his teeth to stop him from spewing out something more vile, something spat out with intent to wound.

Huffing, you step back letting yourself breathe in the new space. 'I don't know why you're so intent on making yourself miserable, but I'm not letting you drag me into whatever the fuck you've got going on.'

Venom pours from his lips before he can stop it, nose crinkling as he spits the words at your feet. 'I've got a Hell of a lot more going on than you have...'

'What the fuck is that supposed to mean?' You laugh, shrugging.

'I'm leaving.' It topples off his tongue too quick and makes him cringe. There's a look in your eye that makes his knees weak, makes him wish he wasn't coiled up inside, Hell-bent on a goal that was so close he could taste it. Even if the taste seemed to sour by the second.

'Leaving?' You tilt your head.

'Surprised your new boyfriend didn't fucking tell you.'

Your mouth runs dry. 'You got the Europe job.'

Suddenly, it's hard to speak. He chances another look at you, but when he brings his eyes back up to meet yours what he finds there makes him feel worse. 'I'm finally gonna be number one.'

The thought of him leaving is enough to churn your insides. It causes your heart to bloom, dripping painful realisations into your bloodstream. You hadn't even known he had been invited for an interview. A bark of a laugh bubbles over your lips. 'So what?' You lick at your mouth, snarling. 'You want a goodbye fuck or something, is that it? Is that why you're here?'

'What?' Bakugo's face contorts, his brows dropping as he watches you blink and take yet another step away from him. 'No -.'

You shake your head, dislodging the tears that cling to your eyes. 'You're a fucking prick...'

'Princess.' Instinct makes him stumble forward, makes him reach for you. It burns watching you cry, knowing that he's the one who has caused the pain etched into your face again. He wants to hold you, to tell you that you've got it wrong, that he promised you'd never become a meaningless fling – that he meant every fucking word.

'Don't fucking Princess me...' Your eyes are wide, mouth dropping open as your tongue pokes at your cheek.

You look ethereal with fire in your eyes, like you'd burn him to ash if you could and right now, he'd let you. The anger in his chest vanishes, replaced by something more primal that makes his throat dry when he pictures a life lived without you. He's ready to back track, ready to say anything to stop you kicking him out and blocking him out of your life for good, but before he can force the words up his throat you're crossing back to him and fisting the front of his shirt.

'You want to fuck me, Katsuki? Is that what you want?' You press up on your tip-toes and purr into his ear, revelling in the way he shivers against you. 'So fucking weak when it comes to me... That's it, isn't it...' You could laugh, he's not the only one who's weak, but this might be the last time you get to have him and you'd be a fool to turn it down.

'I -.' Body betraying him, he sighs when he feels your hand press to his chest. A hoard of butterflies wake up in his stomach and stretch their wings, beating harshly against his ribs. You both know how this goes now. He swallows. 'Yeah.'

'I'll let you fuck me... But, this better be the best goodbye fuck I'll ever have...' Leaning in you trace the shell of his ear with your tongue. 'I want you to make me see stars.'

Something possessive crawls up his throat as his voice drops. Without thinking, he takes hold of your chin and lets the feel of your skin under his fingertips heat his whole body. Everything snaps back into place all too easily. Leaning down, he gives you pause to move back, to change your mind, but when you stay rooted to the spot he breathes against your lips. 'You and Deku -.'

Mouth parting, you smile before closing the gap between you. It feels like coming home when he slips his tongue into your mouth, mapping out the wet heat there before you suck harsh on the invading muscle. You savour his taste, flicking your tongue at your teeth. 'I'm not fucking Midoriya. He came over because he was upset about losing the job.'

Mouth splitting into a grin, he takes hold of you by the hips and pulls you flush against him. A weight lifts from his shoulders, letting air back into his lungs. Now this... This is right. 'Good.' He whispers, then, his lips are at your neck, peppering kisses from the turn of your jaw to your shoulder. It's entirely too easy to collide back into you, to succumb to the thing inside of him that needs you, craves you.

'Katsuki...'

He smiles against your neck. Hearing his name on your lips sends a violent shiver up his spine and he hums against your skin to show his appreciation. 'Miss you saying my name like that.'

Sinking deeper into him, you lace your hands around the back of his neck. You don't want to think about him leaving, so you don't, you focus on his lips, his tongue, the bar of his cock as it hardens against you. 'Bed - bedroom.'

He doesn't need telling twice. Dipping at the knees, he slips his hands down your back to cup ass and thigh before hauling you off the floor.

Your legs wrap his waist, squeeze at his sides as he moves quickly, carrying you through the apartment.

The bedroom door is flung open, revealing a made bed and bright sheets. There's a few hangers out of place, dangling from the lip of the wardrobe, a sock that has missed the laundry basket and three abandoned t-shirts looped over a floor-length mirror. Usually, the mess would bother you, but not tonight.

Lowering you down to the bed, he crawls over you making sure to stay close enough that his lips are still able to explore your neck.

You press in, pushing your pelvis against his and hum when you feel the heat of his cock twitch against your thigh.

'You like it, ha?' He pulls back, holding himself up on his elbows as he meets the slow grind of your hips with his own downward thrust. 'Like what you do to me?'

Snickering you wriggle a hand between your bodies and palm at him, earning a groan from the back of his throat. 'I've seen you get hard watching the cooking channel... Don't pretend it's special.'

Even covered by the darkness of the room, he can feel his cheeks burning. 'You complaining? Because I've got a cucumber in the fridge that wouldn't give me this shit.'

You nip at him, squeezing his cock in your palm to shut him up. 'Won't make you feel as good as me though, will it?

'Fuck.' He sighs, pulling back to leer over you, unwilling to tear his eyes away. 'Look at you. Fuck, I've missed this...' Raising his palms, he inches under the edge of your t-shirt and works it up and over your head, sucking air over his teeth when you're left bare to him. It's animalistic, desperate, the need that rises inside of him. The need to have you dwells in his chest, making his cock weep inside his boxers.

'Just fuck me, already...' Reaching for him, you manage to brush your fingertips against the underside of his shirt covered pecs before he's grabbing at you. He collects your wrists, trapping them in the palm of his hand before leaning over you and pressing them above your head.

You're stuck. The weight of him towering over you makes you dizzy, but to be caught under him like this is nothing short of thrilling.

'Nah – ah – ah.' He licks his lips, as his free hand slinks down your body, stopping at your chest to toy with a nipple. As soon as he has you gasping, arching up and trying to force him to take a hold of you, he moves on ripping off your sleep shorts. Slipping a hand between your thighs, he prises them apart before sliding between them.

You clamp down around his hips instantly, calves straining to bring him close. Without the pressure of your thighs pressed together, your cunt aches, throbbing and aching to be filled, making your hips lift and grind against the air.

'Gonna really take my time.' Keeping your hands trapped above your head, and your thighs open, waiting for him, he lowers his head to your neck. He plants soft kisses against your skin, marking out his claim with a littering of bites that he brings to a shallow bruise. It feels like hours before he's finally ready to bring his hand to the soft mound of your cunt, but he's too lost to care. He wants to savour this, wants it burnt on the back of his eyelids so he can't sleep without picturing you.

'I still think you're a prick...' You've tried to thrash, to contort your body and make him give in, but each time the grip on your wrists gets tighter, the spread of his legs wider until you're rendered useless again.

Bakugo snickers, drawing agonisingly slow circles on your clit with his thumb. 'Whatever you say, Princess.'

His teasing raises your tackles and soon there's more fire pouring over your lips. 'I mean it.'

'Okay.' He grins into the next kiss, the tips of his incisors catching on your lip as he slips two fingers into your slick cunt and curls them upwards.

The sudden pressure makes your whole body jolt as your eyes threaten to roll back into your head.

Keeping his fingertips pressed snug against your G-spot, he keeps his thumb barely touching your clit. Each pass ghosts over your nerves leaving you just short of bliss as he watches you thrash. Crying out, you squirm, trying to make him move.

He licks your jaw. 'You know what I want from you, baby.'

‘’M not fucking begging.’

‘No?’ He curls his fingers harsher, quickens his thumbing on your clit. ‘What about now?’

'Fuck. Katsuki – just – move –.’

He smirks. ‘What’s the word…’

Throwing your pride aside, you buck your hips into his hand as your mouth begins to move on it's own. ‘Please... Want you, I want your cock – please... I...' There's tears cresting in your eyes by the time your babbling subsides, but he's already there, nosing them away gently.

'Okay, Princess, Okay.' He chuffs and brings your lips together, but breaks the kiss soon after to strip, allowing his cock to spring free. 'You want it?'

There's a blush coating his cheeks that you want to lick off, but it's the stuttering in your chest that pulls you back into the moment. Groaning, you rock your head back into your pillow. The idea of being filled with him again, of feeling him leak down your thighs when he finally pulls out to admire his work makes your whole body shiver. ‘Yes. Fuck - want it bad…’

'You really are perfect, aren't you...' He gives himself a few cursory tugs and slips your underwear down your legs only to smear his arousal against yours. It's a clean slide, the head of his cock catching against your clit and making both of you groan. Then, he's gathering your hands back into his and burying himself to the hilt without any more preparation.

Your cunt moulds to his cock like it belongs inside of you. The sudden intrusion makes you cry out and squirm, but it isn't long before the subtle burn melts to blinding pleasure as he moves against you. Each thrust of his hips is harsh, slapping against your ass as he buries himself deeper, and deeper.

'Good girl... Take me so well -.' Speaking between broken breathes, he searches for the thing inside of you that makes you see static and is rewarded when he brushes against it. 'Look – look at you, fuck... It was like you where made for me, huh baby.'

It's pathetic. He plays your body like he was born to, working you up so quickly that you almost get whiplash when you feel your cunt milk him. Violent waves of pleasure rock though your stomach and all you can do is moan and clamp your thighs around his waist as he continues to abuse your cunt.

A shout rips from him as the most intense orgasm he's ever had is forced up through his torso. He spills, coating your insides and struggles to breathe as he submits to the new exhaustion that overtakes his muscles. 'So... You see stars, Princess?'

You moan, feeling the last valiant twitches of his cock as you both come down from your high. It takes little effort to slip his hold now and as soon as your hands are free, you bury them in his hair and scratch out slow patterns on his scalp. 'Maybe.'

He snorts, shifts his hips slightly and hisses as he feels the warm river of his own spend begin to trickle back out of your cunt.

In the afterglow, everything becomes too real. A whine worms its way up your throat at the thought of losing any of him and you shift, pushing down to follow his hips. You're not ready to let him go, not ready to lose the feel of him: not yet.

'Want to cock warm me... Make sure that little cunt stays nice and full, huh?'

You let him pull out, let him shimmy on the bed until he can slot perfectly behind you and then, his fingers are there, gently spooning back in the cum that had leaked onto your thighs.

His lips press to your shoulder as he takes himself in hand and slips back into you.

An arm comes to wrap around your waist as the rhythmic beating of his heart vibrating through your back lulls you into an uneasy rest. 'Can you do something for me?'

He speaks against your skin. 'Anything.'

You stifle a sob as reality comes crashing back into you hard, leaving you almost breathless. 'Leave before I wake up again.'

When you wake up, sore and aching, he's gone. A familiar pain settles in your chest, comfies itself in the confines of your ribcage and burrows. You don't know how long you lay there, half-covered by the sheets as the cold bites at your exposed flesh, but all you know, is that it feels like eternity.

In a few weeks, he'll be on a plane. You wonder if he'll feel the burn of the distance like you will, like you already do. A weak sob leaves your chest as tears swell in your eyes. You lick away what reaches your lip, but don't bother trying to clear the rest. The constellations make your vision blur, make it easier to sink into the mattress and wish for all of it to stop.

'The fuck you crying for?'

You feel the adrenaline surge into your veins the second he speaks. The rush has you bolt upright, gasping and grabbing at the sheet to cover yourself as tears are blinked out of your view. He's there. Actually there. Stood in the doorway to your bedroom clad in nothing, but a tight pair of black boxers is Bakugo.

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing as he takes in the shake in your chest and the wetness of your cheeks. You look about as rough as he feels. 'I cleaned your kitchen – binned the pizza though. Someone spilled wine, it got into the dough - I'd make breakfast, but -.'

Still clinging to the sheet, you stare slack-jawed as he climbs back onto the bed and settles against the pillows, arms looping behind his head. You cut him off before he can finish suggesting morning plans. 'I'm going to ask you a question.'

He groans, head bumping the headboard. 'Fucking, really?'

You ignore his annoyance, balling the sheets in a fist as you feel another wave of tears press at your eyes. 'What's your end-game here? I don't... I can't...'

'I don't want to go.' The confession drops off his tongue and hangs there between you. Admitting it makes it real, makes the mess of emotions in his chest something he can't run from anymore. He swallows hard.

'What?' It leaves you mouth encased in a gasp, but he doesn't pay any mind to your shock.

He shrugs, like his reasoning is more than obvious, but his voice still shakes when he repeats himself. 'I – I don't want to go.'

'This is your dream, you can't just -.'

'I'm not - I'm not fucking giving up, or whatever, just... Re-evaluating.' Sitting up, he prises one of your hands from the sheets and laces your fingers together. Your hand is warm and solid under his, bolstering his confidence. 'I've been thinking -.'

You snort. 'That's dangerous.'

He glares at you, a silent threat to let him finish. 'I wanted that job so fucking bad. I should've - fuck - I should have felt like I on top of the world when they told me I got it... And all, all I could think about was you. Fucking leaving you and -.' He rakes his other hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. 'and when I thought you and... him - I - I just - I was ready to tear the world down. Fuck, would have given up my damn licence just to crack him in the face...'

Reaching for him, you cup his cheek forcing his eyes to yours. 'What are you trying to say?'

'I'm gonna give up the job.' He shakes his head when your mouth drops open to argue, a small smile itching at his lip. 'They can send fucking Deku to Europe instead.'

'And number one?'

He chuckles, as he searches for the spark in your eyes that will tell him it'll be okay. When he finds it, he's almost blinded. ‘I’m still gonna be number one… Just giving Deku a head-start. Y’know so it’s fair.’

This time when the tears come, they aren't spurred on by a hole in your chest or waking to a cold bed. Leaning in, you press a kiss against the tip of his nose, as a new heat blooms in the middle of your chest. ‘He’s not gonna stand a chance.’

Pulling back, he flicks up his eyebrows, running a thumb across your bottom lip. 'I can't promise I'll be any good at any of that boyfriend shit... But, I'll try: For you.' He presses a lingering kiss to the edge of your mouth. 'Let me try?'

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[saturnsorbits]

BNO: The Last Time

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Angst, Smut, Oral [M - Receiving], A Single Bullet Vibrator. Word Count: 5.8k.

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Bakugo reclines on the couch, letting his spine creak into an awkward curve as he swats at the cushion for the remote. He finds it and flicks through the channels, settling on the news. ‘Oi!’ Craning his neck, Bakugo yells out, barely pausing before he’s screaming out again. 'Red! It’s on.’

Kirishima emerges from his room at a run. He slips, skidding on the hard-wood before leaping over the back of the couch. Landing hard, he bounces, then throws his legs out onto the coffee table. 'You reckon he’ll do better this time?’

'No.’ Bakugo laughs, thumbing up the volume as the screen switches from the news room to a wide shot of one of the down town agencies. The sun glints off the glass, soaking both Todoroki and the reporter in a thick, yellow glow.

'So, Shoto. Everybody wants to know -.’ The reporter is barely through her first question when Shoto dips into the pocket of his hero suit and removes his phone. She frowns at him, glancing to the device in his hand before desperately trying to win back his attention. She fails. Todoroki types something out, blinks twice, then looks directly down the camera lens and smiles. His mouth stretches, teeth bared, but the expression doesn’t reach his eyes. 'Uhm.’ The reporter lays a hand on his shoulder. 'Are you – are you okay?’

'Midoriya, uhm, Pro-Hero Deku, just informed me that I should try to smile.’

Bakugo loses it. A laugh rumbles through his chest, making his whole body shake as he grips his sides. 'He’s a fucking train wreck.’

'Is he gonna blink?’ Kirishima winces. 'It’s freaking me out.’ On the screen, Todoroki’s phone buzzes in his hand breaking his focus on the camera. He looks down, presumably to check Midoriya’s newest message and taps out another response. 'I’ve just been informed that I was smiling too much.’ 'Right…’ Forcing a smile to her lips, the reporter grimaces before attempting to restart the interview. ‘Well I was just going to ask about the position offered by the commission...’ Rocking his head onto the back of the couch, Kirishima turns towards Bakugo. 'So, remember that date I went on last week.’ Bakugo rolls his eyes. 'I don’t give a fuck about your love life.’

'Yeah.’ Kirishima grins, sharp teeth shining. 'About that… I might have invited him over, to you know…’

Hauling in a breath, Bakugo licks his teeth. 'What night? I’ll take a night shift.’

'Well…’

Head snapping sideways, Bakugo glares at his room-mate.

'He’s kind of coming over tonight.’

'It’s my night off.’

'It was the only night he was free and I – I really like this one, dude. Like, really like him.’

Bakugo pushes himself to his feet and bites his tongue. 'Yeah, like I haven’t fucking heard that before.’

'He’s different. He’s nice.’

Making a show of retching, Bakugo slinks off towards his bedroom. 'I’ll be out by eight and don’t…’ He points a finger at Kirishima’s chest, narrowing his eyes. '… Fucking bang him on the sofa. If I find jizz anywhere, I’ll have you.’

Kirishima holds his hands up. 'That was one time, dude.’

'It was twice.’

A gentle blush coats Kirishima’s cheeks. 'Where you gonna go?’

Bakugo sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Fucks knows. 'If I have to listen to Sparky whine about how single he is, I think I’ll stick a fork in an outlet.’

'I know where you could go. I checked the rotas -.’

He doesn’t need to see Kirishima’s face to know that he’s grinning. 'Fuck off.’

'She’s off and -.’

'Didn’t I tell you to fuck off?’

'Dude.’ Kirishima shuffles to his knees and leans on the edge of the sofa. 'Just go see her.’

'No.’

'Why?’

'What the fuck would I even say? Hi, remember last month when I came inside of you and then left in the middle of the night? Yeah, I know I haven’t called or made any effort to see how you are, but can I stay over?’

'I think just: Hi, would do.’ Kirishima flicks up his eyebrows, trying in vain to lock away the giggle bubbling in his throat.

Bakugo grinds his teeth.

'You said it was just sex, yeah?’

'It was.’

There’s something evil shining in Kirishima’s eyes when he locks onto Bakugo and smiles. 'Prove it. Go spend the night. You’re still friends, right? You could tell her about the interview…’

Poking at a back molar with his tongue, Bakugo’s hands tense to fists. 'Fuck you.’ He spits, before spinning on a heel and storming into his bedroom.

'He’s coming over at six!’ Kirishima’s voice snakes under the door of Bakugo’s bedroom. 'And there’s condom’s in the bathroom if you’re planning on having more meaningless, friend sex!’

There’s a bang, the faint smell of charred wood and then, Kirishima is vaulting back over the back of the couch for cover.

The knock at your door has you convinced that someone is about to break it down.

'I’m coming, fucking Hell.’ You toss aside the TV remote and pad to the front door from the living room. Swallowing, you lick the dryness from your mouth before grasping the handle. There’s only one person you know who knocks like that.

Bakugo stands in your doorway and sighs. 'Kirishima’s got a guy over.’

You pout, ignoring the zap of anticipation that trails up your spine at the sight of him. 'Do we know him?’

He shrugs. 'Haven’t seen him yet, but apparently he moans like a freight train, so I’ve been ousted for my own sanity.’

'Sounds fun.’ You flick up your eyebrows. 'Wonder if they’re looking for a third, maybe I should go ask.’

'You will fucking not.’ He doesn’t know why his rationality doesn’t kick in and stop him from scooping you up and throwing you over his shoulder, but you giggle and he’s almost thankful that it didn’t. Stepping into your apartment, he kicks shut the door. 'Can’t have you knowing that Kiri is bigger than I am, can I?’

You bang against his back with open palms. There’s a knot in your stomach that is drawn taught as your pelvis digs into the muscle of his shoulders and you have to swallow to stop yourself from groping at them. 'Maybe I already do?’

Setting you down on the kitchen island, Bakugo glares as a hand comes up to pinch his hip. 'You trying to tell me you’ve fucked Kiri?’

You bite back a smile as you watch his chest rise and fall slowly in a conscious effort to control his breathing. 'What if I am?’

He rolls his eyes, refusing to take the bait. He doesn’t know why you’re both playing this game, why you’re already dancing around each other, obviously avoiding the one thing you’re both desperate to talk about. He allows himself one quick glance over you. Your thighs have flattened on the counter-top, causing your sleep shorts to ride up almost to the bend of your hip. Blood rushes to his cock. There was no way he was going to be able to keep his hands off you, not after last time. Readjusting himself through a pocket, he curses himself. Maybe he should have just sucked it up and listened to Kirishima rail his new toy-boy through his walls after all.

'But..’ You continue, swinging your legs. You’d been worried about seeing him again, but now sat in front of him, it all seems a little stupid. A small pebble of disappointment sinks in your stomach. Everything was normal, but that was good, right? 'Lucky for you, I don’t make a habit out of sleeping with my friends.’

Anger flares in his chest and seeps out, in-between his teeth before he can stop it. 'The fuck was I then, Ha? A bastard acquaintance?’

You stick out your tongue. 'Nah, I fucked you out of pity.’

Bakugo bites his cheek. 'Cheeky.’

'So…’ You tilt your head to one side. 'Is he serious?’

'What?’ Shaking, himself, Bakugo has to remind himself not to stare. The dull luminescence of the kitchen lights makes your skin shine and he’s overcome with the urge to reach out, to press his lips to the turn of your shoulder and earn a gasp from your throat.

'Kirishima, is he serious about this new guy…’

'How am I supposed to know?’ Raking a hand through his hair, Bakugo challenges himself to meet your eye. It’s a bad idea. In the low light, your pupils have swollen and the image brings sweet memories of the last time he’d seen you look at him like that. 'Feels like he falls in love with someone new every month.’

'Not a quick fuck then.’

Bakugo shrugs. 'At least not until the next one comes along.’

You bite your lip, prepare the words in your throat and spit them out before you can think better of it. 'So what, like this then?’

His reply is quick, but answers nothing: 'No.’ Opening up a space between you, Bakugo’s jaw tenses. He tries to summarise the mess of thoughts bouncing off the sides of his skull as his chest tightens. He wants to speak, to spill his heart into your hands and not care about the consequences, but he can’t.

Licking your lips, you haul in a deep breath. 'No?’

'No.’ Bakugo snorts. There’s something about the way your bottom lip shakes, despite the fact that you’ve sunk your teeth into it that threatens to completely melt his resolve. Fuck, you were making it hard to deny you. Slinking towards you he leans on the island, laying his palms flat on either side of your hips. His cock is pressed right against you, but if you’ve noticed you don’t say a thing.

You’ve noticed. It’s hard not to when your cunt begins to salivate and pulse, revelling in how his heat presses to yours. You chew your lip harder and search his face for something, anything to indicate what he’s thinking, but he gives you nothing.

'Is Yaoyorozu in?’ Bakugo whispers, half-hoping you won’t hear him.

You shake your head and try to think about anything that isn’t sex. 'She’s at Jirou’s.’

He chuffs. The way your chest heaves at his question makes his cock twitch. It’s almost as if fate was trying to test him, of course fucking Yaoyorozu was out. 'She’s not coming home tonight then?’

'Probably not.’

Bakugo’s eyes linger on your lips before flicking back up to meet your gaze. He was going to regret this, but the uncomfortable stiffening in his sweatpants is more than persuasive. Fuck it. 'Can I stay over? Kiri is, y'know.’ He points up, vaguely gesturing his apartment.

Heart racing in your chest, you try again to read the mess of signals he’s sending you, then you chicken out. Ruffling his hair, you break the tension accumulating in your muscles. Having him this close is too much. 'You never normally ask.’ You chirp, pushing him backwards just enough so you can slip from the counter and onto the floor.

Bakugo glances down at his sweatpants. 'You – uh.’

Following his gaze, you’re lead to the small, wet patch glistening on his crotch. It’s too high to be the faint stain of pre-cum leaking from his cock. It is, however, perfectly high enough to be where, moments before, your cunt had pressed to him. The realisation has your hands shooting up to cover your face.

He was going to go fucking feral. He could feel it. Bakugo’s insides twist. He’d promised himself that this wouldn’t turn into a habit, but the way your body reacts to his makes that promise increasingly hard to keep. Prising your hands away from your face, he forces your eyes to his with a finger hooked under your chin. 'That’s… That’s kind of hot.’

Your cunt aches, but the rest of you shuts down. His breath fans your neck, his eyes roaming over every inch of you with startling focus.

Your sudden stillness catches him off guard. Taking your hand in his, he laces your fingers together enjoying how you slip perfectly into place before rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand. 'Just because it’s happened once doesn’t mean I expect anything. We’re friends first, yeah?’

The word 'friend’ burns, but it’s eclipsed by the fire ignited in your stomach. You’re a big girl. You can handle another potentially meaningless fuck, can’t you? 'Do you want to?’

He bats the question back. 'What do you want?’

You peer up at him. There’s nothing, but hunger in his eyes now and your cunt flutters, begging to be filled by him. It takes barely a second to rationalise your impulses. It wasn’t as if it hasn’t happened already, after all. 'I want…’ You lick your lips, running a hand down his chest and tracing the curves of his muscle.

He smirks, noting the way you press your thighs together. 'Yes, Princess.’

There it is again: Princess. The pet name makes your knees weak, bringing back memories of the first time it had graced his lips. With a renewed confidence, you press your mouth to his ear. 'I want to taste you.’

'Fucking Hell.’ Bakugo groans. 'You keep laying out performances like this, you’re going to ruin other women for me.’

You push him backwards. 'Maybe I want to.’

He wobbles as his calves hit the front of the sofa and rolls his lip between his teeth. 'What’re you waiting for, then?’

Hooking your fingers under the edge of both his sweats and his boxers you make quick work of stripping them from his body.

His shirt is lost next. He throws himself to the sofa and spreads his legs, opening up a gap between his thighs for you to nestle between them.

You hit your knees, refusing to drop his gaze and brace yourself on his legs. The muscle of his thigh is sturdy under your palm as you lean in, pressing a chaste kiss to the soft flesh. You rake your teeth across the skin, tongue following to sooth the sting as you work upwards, slowly, towards his cock. Taking hold of his shaft, you bring your lips to the tip and swipe your tongue across his sensitivity.

'Fuck, there it is.’ Bakugo doesn’t take his eyes off you. A deep moan tears through his chest, his eyes already threatening to roll back into his skull as you take the entire head of his cock into your mouth. Each soft suck sends sharp jolts of electricity up through his legs, causing his abs to ripple and tense.

He tastes like salt and skin when you hollow out your cheeks to take more of him and set up a rhythm.

'Shit.’ He’s close already, painfully so, but as much as he’d love to see you with his cum dripping down your chin, he’d much rather feel your cunt wrapped around him instead. Reaching down, he brushes a thumb against your cheek gently easing you off his cock. 'Come here…’ He gestures his lap with a tilt of his head, cautious smirk tugging at his lip.

You don’t need telling twice. Stripping your t-shirt from your body, you shimmy out of your shorts and underwear in an instant before coming down on your knees at either side of his hips.

He sits up to meet you, hands settling on your waist as his lips attach to your collarbone.

Rocking against him, his cock slots between your folds letting him feel the wetness waiting for him. You wrap your arms around his neck, clawing at his shoulders and leave deep red marks across the muscle there as you continue to search for a friction he’s withholding.

Smirking against you, he bows his head, turning his attention to your chest. The flat of his tongue swipes over your nipple, gently encouraging it into a hardened nub he’s able to suckle.

You arch your back, pressing up and into his mouth. It’s obvious that you’re dripping onto his lap. The stimulation of his tongue causes sparks to ignite in your core, but it’s not enough. Chest heaving, you manage to collect yourself enough to speak. 'You don’t have to be so gentle, I won’t break.’

He responds with a bite. His hands clamp around your waist, bruising the flesh and keeping you planted, steady in his lap as you squirm, trying to grind into him.

Unable to hold back, you unfurl from around his neck and reach down, taking him in hand.

'Wait, wait, wait. I -.’ He chews his cheek, ignoring the heat he can feel creeping over his chest. 'I want to try something.’

You furrow your brow. 'What?’

'Pocket.’ Indicating the discarded pile of clothing, Bakugo tilts you just enough for you to lean to the floor and root through his sweats.

Slipping your hand into his pocket, you feel cold metal against your fingertips. The sweats drop back to the floor, revealing a small, black cylinder clutched in your loose fist. You cock an eyebrow and brandish it in the air. 'What happened to not expecting it, huh? Or do you always just carry a vibrator around with you?’

Bakugo’s tongue shoots out across his bottom lip, the blush finally rising to his cheeks. 'Okay, so I might have hoped.’

'You’re a bastard.’ You shake your head, but hand over the vibrator.

'And yet, you’re still going to fuck me.’ He smirks.

Your mouth falls open, faux-annoyance itching at your temples. 'It’s my final act of charity.’

'Yeah, well -.’

You cut him off by sinking down onto him, taking him whole.

His eyes retreat into the back of his head, breath hitching as a maddening smile lines his lips. Letting his head roll back onto his shoulders, he uses his free hand to smooth down your side, gripping and kneading the fat of your hip and thigh. 'You are something else…’ He mumbles, lost in the feel of you. It takes him a moment to compose himself, and then, there’s a new glimmer flashing in his eyes as he lifts the vibrator. 'Can I?’

Chewing your lip, you plant your palms on his chest and nod. 'Why do you have a vibrator, anyway. So much for your shitty little rule, huh?’

Feeling his teeth, he pouts. 'Just because I haven’t been fucking other people, doesn’t mean I haven’t been fucking myself.’ Then, he’s holding down the button on the top of the vibrator and causing it to whir into life. Even as he presses the device to your body, he doesn’t lower his eyes from yours.

The first place it touches is the bend of your hip. The meat of your thigh shakes and he snickers when you jump at the new sensation. Your stomach tenses, mouth falling ajar as he begins a slow decent nearing the soft mound of your sex. As soon as the cool metal touches your clit, your cunt throbs.

'Good girl.’ He coos, slotting a hand into the curve of your thigh to keep you steady.

A moan rattles your throat. The vibrations warm your clit and send continuing waves of pleasure up through your body. With his hand on your thigh, you can’t move, but that doesn’t stop your cunt pulsing, desperate for the friction that the still stretch of his cock buried inside of you denies.

He swears he sees stars when your cunt starts to flutter around him. 'Fuck… Good girl, that’s it. So, fuckin ’ good – shit.’

'Want -.’ You try and push against him, try to get him to release you enough to pull off his cock and slide back down, but he doesn’t let up. Instead, he holds you still and clicks his thumb against the top of the vibrator causing it to speed up against your clit. 'Fuck – I -.’ Thighs shaking, you clamp down on his hips almost lost to the momentum of your impending orgasm.

'In a minute, Princess.’ It’s better than he could have imagined. For the past month he’s been fucking his fist, thinking about your cunt, about how you’d felt squeezing him, begging and writhing under him, but nothing could compare to the real thing.

'Please…’ Slipping your hands up his arms, your cradle his neck in your hands. There’s a weight in your chest, an undeniable tension lingering under the surface of your skin that you’re sure will be your undoing. 'Wanna, wanna ride you… Please…’

A chuckle echoes low in his throat. There’s no way he can deny you, not when you’ve sat so pretty for him. Slipping his hand from your hip, he pulls you down to lick into your mouth. 'Go on then, show me what you can do, ha?’

Nodding feverishly, you lift you hips, keening when he keeps the vibrator steady on your clit. Then, you sink back down. Each time you lower yourself back onto him, he brushes against something exquisite inside of you. Your cunt aches around him, tightening and releasing him with each dull thrust. You’re so close you can taste it, but matters are only made worse when he begins to suck bruises into you neck. Hips stuttering, your legs threaten to seize.

'Cum for me… C'mon, Princess. Can feel you, know you want to.’

You whine unable to refuse him.

'Look at me…’ He growls, pulling back to take your chin in hand. 'I wanna see, wanna see you.’

You obey. Eyes connecting to his, you pant, mouth falling open as all the muscles in your body contract. Even through the haze of your orgasm you can see the way his pupils blow out as he watches you cum on his cock. His mouth twitches, the ghost of a smile summoned to his lips and then, it’s all too much. You fall forward, head nestling into the crook of his neck as you pant and readjust to the post-orgasm tightness of your cunt.

He kisses your shoulder before taking hold of your high. The vibrator is discarded, left buzzing on the cushion besides him as he abandons it in favour of palming at your chest. There’s no way he’s letting you off that easily. Thrusting up, he presses against your G-spot earning himself a choked sob as he begins to chase his own release.

You squirm as your overstimulated nerves scream.

'Say my name.’ His pace doesn’t let up.

'Katsuki.’

'Again.’

Moaning against his skin, you’re pulled back again just enough to look him in the eye. 'Katsuki…’

'That’s it, fuck – Gonna, fuck, gonna -.’ His thrusting stammers, his hips jolting as you feel his cock swell, pulse and then release inside of you. His breath catches in his throat, his fingers digging painfully into your thighs as he too, looses himself to you.

'You know something?’ He can’t take his hands off you. He doesn’t want to. You’re smooth and pliant under him, skin prickling even with just his palms coasting across your back. He traces out the contours of your shoulder, the dip at your neck and then, lets his fingertips track over your throat, visiting the same spots he’d held when he had filled you for the first time. 'You fucking drive me crazy.’

You pause, struggling with the blooming sensation that erupts in your chest when his fingers brush against your throat. You had half a mind to just come out with it. To just ask him what he wants, right here. It should be simple, but it’s not. The idea of him rejecting you as you sit, naked, his cock still nestled inside of you makes you run cold. Not to mention the fall out it would cause. The endless months of avoiding eye-contact and exchanging awkward pleasantries in the lift as you pretend that he’s not made your knees shake on more than one occasion is too much to bare thinking about. At least this way you still had your friendship. Still, the way he looks at you, with something other than lust lingering in his eyes makes your stomach do too many somersaults to ignore. You swallow. If you didn’t know better, you’d say that you were falling for him. 'Question.’

He groans, reaching for the vibrator and clicking it off, reducing the noise in the room to a dull silence. 'Not this again.’

'Technically you started it.’

'I didn’t. I told you a statement.’

You shake your head, looking down at the bliss resting on his face. His eyes have fluttered shut, his mouth still tugged into a tired smile as his hands continue to blindly map out your body. Your heart stammers. He’s beautiful like this, relaxed and submitted to the calm rapidly descending on the room. Lowering yourself to his chest, you lay yourself on top of him and kiss the underside of his collarbone. 'What are we doing?’ The question drops from your lips and just sits there. You need to hear him say it. You need him to say that he doesn’t want this, you, that he’s chosen hero work and always would. You need him to break you, because if he doesn’t, you don’t think you’ll ever be able to heal.

'Well right now, you’re cock-warming me.’

You bite the flesh covering his collarbone.

'Woah.’ His eyes shoot open. 'Okay, okay.’

You ease up, releasing his skin from your teeth and lick at the bite.

'I don’t know,’ he lies. He knows full well what he’s doing, what he wants, what he can’t have. Maybe Kirishima had been right when he’d quipped about opening Pandora’s box and as much as it pains him to admit it he knows he's right about the interview. He really should tell you. Fuck, maybe he owes it to you.

You press your lips to his neck again. You’d tease it from him if that’s what it took. It’s strange, the ease at which you touch him like this, how you don’t hesitate to bite and nip at his flesh; how you know exactly how to make him loosen up. You’ve learned so much about him. It was just a shame you’d have to learn to forget it all again too.

Bakugo stares at you. His mind whirs. You. He wants to scream it, he wants you, he’s known that since first fucking year, but he can’t. Both of you had known the score from the beginning, it wasn’t as if he was trying to hide it. So, why does it feel like he’s drowning? He reaches for your hand, interlacing your fingers and distracts your assault on his neck. 'You’re making it hard to have a conversation.’

'Sorry.’

'You’re not sorry.’

'Okay,’ you chuckle. 'I’m not sorry.’

'You’re going to be the death of me.’ He rubs his thumb against your hand.

You can feel his heart racing. 'I asked you a question, though.’

'I know, I’m trying to figure out what I want to say.’

'Just say it how you’re thinking it…’ You brush your lips against his cheek, enjoying how his body shivers under your touch.

'You know I have that rule…’

'No Girls Before Number One.’ You speak in union.

You sit up. So this was how he was going to do it. A reinstatement of his stupid, little rule. No real reasons, of course not. 'I know.’ You try not to sound like a scolded school-girl, but you fail.

'And now I feel like a cunt.’

'It’s not your fault, work has always come first.’ Looking at him burns, so you don’t. Collecting your hands in your lap, you shuffle backwards, letting his cock leave you with a soft pop and hope the distance will do something to stop the pain. It doesn’t. You manage to force a smile. You can feel it, the sharp edges of the shattered friendship you’re trying to keep hold of. It digs into your palms and makes your temples itch. You swallow. 'It doesn’t matter… It’s just sex, right?’

'Don’t start.’

'I’m not starting anything.’ Your stomach twists. 'I just…’ Struggling to juggle the tangle of emotions that threaten to overwhelm you, you chew your lip. 'We’ll be alright though, won’t we? After this I mean. We haven’t fucked it up, have we?’ You can’t stop it. All of the fears you’ve bottled up come spilling from you.

He grimaces, trying to ignore the shooting pains that start in his chest and run the length of his body. This was what he had been so afraid of. He fucking hates seeing you like this and knowing he’s the cause makes something shatter in his chest. He curses himself. If he had only waited. Maybe, there would have been a chance for you, but he couldn’t expect you to put yourself on hold. Not for him. Never for him. He wouldn’t have that on his conscience. 'I’m going to tell you something, but if you ever breathe another word of it to anyone – I will kick your ass. Got it?’

You nod. 'Got it.’

'The first time you feel asleep on my bed, I almost had a damn heart attack.’

The memory makes you warm, makes your body relax a little as you recall simpler times. 'You slept on the floor.’

'And the next night, we fell asleep together. You wedged yourself under my arm. I didn’t know what the fuck to do. I almost shoved you out of bed but, you looked so… I think, I think that’s when I knew.’

Your voice cracks. 'I didn’t know you -.’

'I didn’t tell you, you weren’t supposed to know.’

'You never -.’

'You knocked me out of kilter a bit, you know. It was easier to focus on becoming number one and beating the shit out of Deku than it was to try and figure out what the fuck was going on in my head.’ He reaches out to you then, wrapping a hand around your wrist. 'I was too stubborn to admit I wanted you.’

You can see how much effort this is taking him, the confession sticks in his throat, but it makes you weak anyway.

'Then, boom.’ He mimes an explosion with his free hand, accidentally sending a small puff of flame into the air. 'You’re staying over again and it’s like I’m back in U.A. You’re asleep in my bed and for the first time in years, I’m thinking about something that isn’t the number one spot.’

'Katsuki…’

'Let me finish,’ he growls. He has to get through this. There’s no point in holding back now. He’s already fucked it up, he might as well bare his soul for you. Maybe then you’d understand that he was doing this so he didn’t hurt you… Hurt you any more than he already has, that is.

You fall silent, hoping he can’t hear the way your heart tears in your chest.

'I fucked you because I wanted to, because I’ve always wanted to, because I’m selfish. I knew that work was going to get in the way and I did it knowing that this was going to happen if I pushed for something with you.’ His grip softens around your wrist. 'But, I still wouldn’t take it back, even if you asked me to.’

'I wouldn’t want you to.’

'I don’t want you to wait for me or any of that shit. Fuck knows you deserve someone who’s got all the time in the world for you, not someone who’s going to struggle to make it home for dinner every single night of the week.’ He blinks, forcing the wetness in his eyes to clear. 'I don’t think I’ll ever get over you… But you’re never going to lose me. We’re ride or die, yeah.’ A smirk plays at his lips. 'Not even if you decide to actually go fuck Kiri.’

You struggle to smile as tears begin to slip past your eyelids. 'What about Kaminari?’

'Then, I’d obviously have to disown you.’ Bakugo cups your chin, his thumb running across your lips. If he was a better man, he’d make it work. He’d move Hell and Earth for you to be the one he went home to every night, but deep down he knows it will never be enough. You deserve someone stable, who wasn’t going to jet off overseas on a whim for a chance at the number one spot, who wasn’t a slave to a system that demanded he work himself to the bone to prove himself. 'I hate that I’m soft around you.’

'You’re never very soft actually,’ you snort, letting him thumb tears from your eyes.

He swallows, letting his palm linger on your cheek. This would probably be the last time he saw you like this. Fuck, if that idea didn’t make him sick.

'Katsuki.’

'Mmm.’

'Do you trust me?’

He blinks, cocking his head to one side. 'Of course, I -.’

'Then, let’s try.’ You crawl back to his side and kneel before him on the couch, hand coming up to wrap his wrist. He opens his mouth to speak, but you slam a palm over it cramming the words back down his throat. 'Don’t I get a say?’

Eyebrows shooting up on his head, he nods once.

'I don’t care. I don’t care if I have to eat dinner at one in the morning when you get in from patrol, or if I have to go to events on my own because our schedules clash… All’s I care about is you. All’s I care about is that I get to come home to you.’ You sniff, removing your hand gingerly from his mouth when you notice his lashes gathering tears. 'I don’t – don’t let me be just a meaningless fuck.’

'You could never -.’

'So, let’s try.’

This was all going to end in tears. He knows that. He’d convinced himself of it years ago and yet, here he was, knowing that he’d come back to you again and again. 'I really, really fucking want you.’

'I’m yours.’ Leaning in, you press your forehead to his.

He swallows, lifting your chin to place a chaste kiss to your lips. Savouring your sweetness, he toys with the idea of waking up to you, of midnight dinner dates after long patrols, of stolen kisses between shifts and quickies in his agency’s office. It’s almost enough to beat out the doubt, to eclipse the panic that takes hold of him whenever he thinks about balancing you and his career, but before the darkness can take hold again, you’re kissing him.

'Say yes…’ You urge, slipping pleas into his mouth.

'Fuck.’ He pulls back, heart heavy in his chest as he swipes at the last of the tears tangled in your lash line. He doesn’t tell you about the interview. There's no point. 'I – shit -.’ He’s already hurt you. You’re already crying. The damage has already been done. 'I can’t.’

Bakugo sleeps on the couch that night. He’s lying, face up staring at the ceiling as he clings to the thin cotton blanket you’d offered him before slinking off to your room. He doesn’t have to try and hear you. Your sobs are muffled, but loud enough to echo in his head and infest his chest. It turns his stomach when he finally hears your crying fade to broken snores, a sign that you’ve exhausted yourself as your body finally flips the switch, forcing you to submit to the blackness of sleep. Bakugo doesn’t want to sleep, doesn’t think he can even if he did. His insides are alive, burning through him as he reaches up to feel the wetness on his own face. He hasn’t cried since U.A, but he doesn’t stop himself now.

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