Chapter Text
Large hands skim over his hips, hot, possessive, claiming. Equally hot breath teases his neck.
“You want me so badly, don’t you.”
Izuku blinks sluggishly, trying to think through the cloud of lust consuming him. Who did he want?
The hands gripping his hips pull fiercely, dragging him closer to the body behind him, clearly well built. And well endowed if the bulge pressing into his lower back was any indication.
A hand slips down his hip, smoothing across his stomach before dipping into the band of his pants.
Izuku’s mind short-circuits for a second before he cries out in alarm, blushing furiously as he grabs the thick wrist inching into his pants.
“W-what are you doing!”
Deep, rumbling laughter tremors through him from the muscled chest pressing into his back. “Is it not obvious, idiot?”
Izuku squirms, trying to pull the hand away from his growing issue. “Don’t be rude! I don’t even know you!”
A snapping growl thunders in his ear, startling him so much he whimpers.
“You don’t know me, nerd?”
Izuku whips his head back sharply, red eyes sucking him in like a riptide, stealing the air from his lungs.
“K-Kacchan?”
Bakugo grins, tiger teeth gleaming, mouth widening as he leans in. Izuku doesn’t know if he plans to kiss him or rip his throat out, but he stumbles back.
He lands on the ground hard, jolting himself out of the dream turned nightmare.
Izuku lays extremely still for a minute, body thrumming with adrenaline and arousal in equal measures. Unfortunate side effects of being around Bakugo.
Izuku slams a fist down on the bed in frustration. Seriously? Wet dreams? That’s what his fascination had grown to?
He runs his hands over his face, pressing his palms into his eyes before swiping his phone off the side table. One touch and the screen lights up, glaringly bright. 4:36.
Izuku sighs, steadfastly ignoring the problem in his boxers. He would have woken up in the next twenty minutes anyway, so the loss is hardly worth complaining about.
He stumbles his way through his morning routine, shower slightly colder than usual, exhaustion dragging at his feet. He snags an energy drink out of the fridge on his way out. It’s not exactly breakfast, but he can’t afford to be tired on the job.
The travel from his apartment to his hero agency passes in a blur, and he’s almost surprised when his stop is called out. He exits the public transport while shaking his head.
“Come on, Izuku, wake up.” He mumbles to himself, taking a shot of his energy drink. It fizzes pleasantly in his stomach as he nears his agency.
His head is angled down, eyes locked intently on an article about a recent villain attack as he opens the glass door with his hip.
“Oi, fucking nerd, what the fuck are you drinking?”
Izuku looks up, caught off guard. Bakugo is standing a few feet away, already in his hero costume. Kirishima is next to him, mouth open like he’d been saying something before Bakugo had yelled across the agency’s front lobby.
Kirishima recovers before Izuku, smiling and waving. “Morning, Midoriya!”
Izuku smiles back easily, if not confused. “Hey Kirishima, did you switch agencies?”
Kirishima waves his hand, shark teeth flashing brightly. “Nah, dude! Didn’t you hear about-”
“Shut the fuck up, shitty hair. And you!” Bakugo is quickly working his way to a boiling rage, jabs a finger in Izuku’s direction. “Didn’t you fucking hear me, nerd? I asked you a question, answer me.”
Izuku stares at him, glancing down at the energy drink in his hands, and looks back up. He can feel his smile melting, sleep deprivation carving into annoyance.
He slides his phone into his back pocket, props his free hand on his hip as he glares up at Bakugo. “Maybe if you had asked nicely I would answer you. But seeing as you haven’t, you can honestly fuck off.” He turns to Kirishima, flashing him a weak smile before pushing past them towards the locker rooms.
He doesn’t look at Bakugo as he pauses. “And you always bragged as a child for being the first to read. You’d think a simple label wouldn’t trip you up.”
Izuku makes his way through the locker room doors quickly, but not before hearing Kirishima’s howling laughter and Bakugo’s angry yelling. He hadn’t planned on pissing Bakugo off so early on in the day, but the man had caught him off guard. Bakugo had applied for a costume redesign a few weeks ago, and of course, this was the day of all days that it had finally come in. Apparently wet dreams and yelling plus a new hero costume was the exact recipe for Izuku’s personal disaster.
“Fuck me.” He grumbles, yanking the door to his locker open.
Locker isn’t exactly the correct word for the room their costumes are stored in, as each hero is assigned an air-locked glass pod, but ‘The Pod Room’ had sounded too sci-fi alien.
He pulls his costume out with ease, dons the zip-up suit as his mind drifts. Wonders idly how Bakugo’s hands would feel drifting over the slicker material, how he would unzip it leisurely, sharp teeth nipping at exposed skin and-
Izuku is pulled from his daydream by the sound of the doors opening. He quickly pulls on his boots and gloves with heated cheeks.
He walks out quickly, waving at a fellow hero before ducking out.
Kirishima appears out of nowhere, slinging a heavy arm over his shoulders. Izuku laments the fact that everyone around him had grown taller than him for the hundredth time.
“Hey, bro! Sorry about Bakugo, something must have crawled up his ass this morning.”
Izuku huffs but pulls out a tired smile for his friend. “It’s not a problem. I’m used to his weird behaviour by now. Though that is the most, ah, aggressive I’ve seen him in a while.”
Kirishima laughs, sunny as ever. “Yeah! Good ol’ Baku-bro! I’m sure he didn’t mean it!”
Izuku’s smile turns sheepish. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have snapped at him. Taking my frustration out on him when he’s clearly agitated won’t help anyone.”
“Goddamn right, fucker.”
Izuku jumps slightly, held in place by Kirishima’s arm still braced across his neck. He turns to face Bakugo, working through an apology in his head when he meets his intense gaze. His eyes are narrow flames, rimmed with thick lines of kohl liner. They seem to be issuing an unspoken warning, or maybe a threat, and that starts an inferno of annoyance in his core.
“Oh, so I’m the only party at fault here? You don’t think the rudeness was double-sided at all?”
Bakugo’s lips pull back in a snarl. “No? It’s your fault for being so-” He blinks, skipping over a syllable. “Fuck you? You started it w-”
“Hey!” Kirishima pops in between them, hands raised and hardened to spear points. “Why don’t we all relax! We’re all friends here! Look, you two even match!”
Kirishima looks proud of himself as he points at the two of them. Izuku’s eyebrows furrow in angry confusion before fully looking at Bakugo’s new costume. It’s closer to his old winter costume, with all the black. He blinks rapidly, because that’s a lot of black. It’s mostly black, with a single x of orange branding the front. It’s studded with metal and straps, a deadly wicked design. The combat boots are black, the battering knee pads are black metal, his gloves are black, and none of it compares to the darkness in his eyes.
Izuku looks down at his costume, a replica of his highschool costume in full black. “You copied my design?” The question comes out wrong, like that’s not what he’s really asking.
“Haa? Me? My costume has always been mostly black, fucking nerd! You copied me!”
Izuku’s face feels wrong, a mask of blank confusion. “What? You know I changed the colour because of-”
He pauses, sucks in a breath sharply before closing his eyes. “Whatever, this isn’t worth it. I’m going to go get the briefing on our new mission, bye.”
Izuku feels the numbness creeping in as he turns to the elevators, stumbles when a hand wraps around his bicep.
“Wait, Deku, I didn’t mean.”
Izuku shakes his head, tugging his arm free. “Yeah, I know, It’s fine.”
Bakugo calls his name again as he leaves, but he can’t turn around. Can’t do anything but move forward, enter the elevator before Bakugo or Kirishima make him turn around. That would certainly alarm them.
He watches the numbers climb with detachment. All that blood. He shakes his head, fighting down the image. It had stained everything. Breathe in. They hadn’t recognised him at first. Breathe out. All the screaming. Shaky inhale. It had been him screaming in the end, he realised. Fight for air. His friends said the sound was almost as bad as when Bakugo had been captured.
The elevator dings, the doors glide open. Izuku stands there for a second before pulling himself together. Dwelling on old mistakes wouldn’t help him save anyone.
It doesn’t take long to get to the Head of Missions office, and he listens raptly as they describe the newest villain group on the rise. Recently the leadership has changed hands, and not only does the new person have a powerful quirk, but they’re charismatic enough to draw villains to them in swarms. He thinks back to the article from this morning, understanding now.
“So you’ll all be stationed close to their base for a week before moving in. We need to gather intel on their numbers and capability.”
Izuku tunes in. “Wait. Stationed nearby?”
The Head of Missions nods. “This is the biggest group we’ve seen since Overhaul, with as much power as the League of Villains, if not more. They’re systemically targeting pro-hero agencies, and our reports show they’ve been recreating Overhaul’s quirk-erasing drug. Forty-three pro-heroes have been hospitalized in the past month with no signs of recovery. If we don’t move now, panic will spread in the hero and civilian societies alike, but going in unprepared would only lead to further destruction. Do you have any questions?”
Izuku shrugs. “I’m assuming the agency has already sent out an email about housing arrangements and our schedules?”
“Correct. Can I do anything for you? You look rough.”
Izuku laughs without humour, waves a hand. “I have therapy tomorrow.”
They nod, relieved, and Izuku dismisses himself.
He’s about to go check-in for the day when he’s yanked into a spare office roughly. He tumbles through the door clumsily, crashing into whoever pulled him in.
“Ow, nerd, get off my feet.”
Izuku jumps away from Bakugo like he’s been burned. “You yanked me in here!”
Bakugo opens his mouth to snarl a retort, before closing it, breathing in for a second. “Did you read the email yet?”
Izuku presses his fingers to his temples, massaging his building headache. “I haven’t had a chance, yet.”
“Read it.”
Izuku frowns. “My phone is still downstairs.”
Bakugo makes a noise of indignation, whipping out his phone and shoving it at Izuku.
Izuku presses his lips together, before taking the phone, scanning the email. Starting next Monday. Hours for patrol shifts. Ten groups, fifty heroes total, pulled from surrounding agencies. Ah, that would explain Kirishima’s presence. Each group is assigned to local safehouses. He squints at the end of the email, rubbing at his eyes to reread it.
“Why are we the only ones in a separate house?”
Bakugo snatched his phone back. “Some bullshit about needing a pair of heroes stationed dangerously close to the villain’s base. That’s us.”
“Why us , though.”
“Ask Chief Stick Ass if you’re so curious!”
Izuku surges forward, at his absolute limit at only eight AM. “Listen to me, Katsuki, and listen closely. If you dragged me in hear to tell me to fuck off when you have information, I swear I’ll rip you a new one. Do you know why I have to house with you for a week or not?”
Bakugo draws up to his full height, a storm brewing in his eyes, appreciation or anger. “Calm down, nerd. It’s because, regardless of personal relations, we work well in a hero team. Have we ever let a motherfucker past us?”
Izuku sucks in a breath, fingers skimming over the hem of his costume. “Well.”
His laugh must startle Bakugo, because he flinches. “That wasn’t your fault, Deku. I.” He swallows thickly, looking to the side. “I didn’t mean to bring that up earlier.”
“But it was. And you did.”
Bakugo’s eyes snap back to him, blazing. “What the fuck is wrong with you today? I’m trying to say I’m sorry. You’d normally jump all over my dick for that sappy shit.”
Izuku flushes bright red. “E-excuse me? I do not- I wouldn’t-” He throws his hands up in the air, flustered. “I didn’t sleep well, okay? Leave it alone!”
Bakugo takes a step forward, pressing. “Nightmares?”
“No!” The word flies out of his mouth sharply, and the concern on Bakugo’s face morphs into confusion.
“The fuck you mean, ‘no’? You look like shit, what else could have kept you up.”
Izuku fists his hands in his hair, breathing deeply. “That’s not information you’re entitled to, Kacchan, now will you let me go? I have patrol duty in five minutes.”
Bakugo doesn’t say anything, merely pins him in place with a calculating gaze until he leaves.
Izuku spends the entire patrol distracted, very lucky nothing eventful happens.
He goes to therapy the next day distracted. Spends the next week distracted. He avoids sleeping like a plague, worried if he does he’ll end up dreaming of red eyes and sparking hands.
Bakugo spends the week at a distance, but Izuku can always feel his heated gaze on him. Like he’s asking a question Izuku doesn’t have an answer for.
The end of the week comes quickly, and the weekend flies by in a blur of sleepless nights and anxious packing. He spends more hours than usual training, attempting to wear himself down to the point of exhaustion that will grant him dreamless sleep. His hormones have other ideas. Fuck Bakugo and his stupid sexy hero costume.
They all meet up Monday morning to go over the week’s plan one more time, led very vehemently by Iida. The meeting doesn’t take nearly enough time. Izuku is thrumming with nerves that have nothing to do with being close to deadly villains.
“Oi, nerd, you sleep at all? You’ve been a fucking zombie this past week.”
Izuku flinches a bit, taking a step back to put some space between them. Bakugo looks thoroughly annoyed.
“I’m fine.”
“Tch, whatever, keep it to yourself.”
Bakugo hauls his bag over his shoulder, and in one swift movement grabs Izuku’s as well.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
Bakugo scoffs at him. “What, your brain stopped working?”
Izuku follows him as he begins the trek to their safehouse. “No. I’m capable of carrying my own bag, though.”
Bakugo doesn’t even look back. “You look dead on your feet, bunny, shut up.”
Izuku stops. Full stop in the middle of the street. Blinks once.
“Bunny?”
Bakugo is several feet ahead now, but Izuku sees how his feet stutter.
“Yeah, idiot, you ever seen your stupid costume? Bunny ass shit.”
Bakugo ploughs ahead, setting a pace much faster than Izuku’s shorter legs can keep up with.
Izuku berates himself internally. ‘Are you seeing this? This is who you find hot?’ His mind retaliates with vivid flashes of his steamier dreams, which he quickly shoves into a mental drawer.
Bakugo reaches the safehouse before he does, a small rundown, unassuming building shoved between other equally unassuming buildings. Thankfully the inside is nicer, with modest furnishing. He doesn’t see Bakugo when he walks in but sees he’s placed Izuku’s bag at the door.
The explosive man comes charging into view seconds later, hands sparking. “This is bullshit.”
Izuku tilts his head tiredly.
Bakugo hisses, “There's only one bed.”
Izuku looks around, quickly spotting an old floral couch in the living room area. He shrugs, “No problem, I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Bakugo sneers at him. “No, you’re not, fucking idiot. You haven’t been sleeping and that won’t help, plus a couch is shit on your back. That plus sleep deprivation will affect your performance.”
Izuku whines out a frustrated sigh. “Then you sleep on the couch!”
Bakugo crosses his arms, and Izuku’s eyes are drawn to the way the action makes his muscles bulge. “Were you listening just now? I’m not sacrificing my sleep or my back for you.”
Izuku doesn’t have his normal patience, not after a solid week of restless nights. “Then why are you complaining? If I’m not allowed to sleep on the couch, and you won’t, why are we having this conversation?”
Bakugo looks at him, and Izuku’s eyes widen, is Katsuki Bakugo blushing?
“I’m not sleeping in a bed with you!”
Izuku wants to cry. This conversation is going in a circle. “Kacchan, we used to have sleepovers all the time as kids, what are you throwing a fit about? You’ve ruled the couch off-limits. Do you know what that leaves you with? One option. Now, I’m sorry that I’m so repulsive to you that being in the same space as me is a nightmare. I’ll try not to breathe near you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m unpacking and then I’m heading out for a patrol to scope out the area.”
Bakugo is breathing rapidly, chest heaving, hands clenched in fists like he wants to hit something. Izuku ignores him, setting about doing just as he said. Bakugo watches him the whole time, hawk eyes following him around the small house. Izuku is glad to get out and finds he’s much more thrilled by the thought of running into a mob of villains than spending one more second with Bakugo breathing down his neck.
Izuku gets his wish in the form of a trio of villains, out on their own patrol. The fight is invigorating, just the type of release he had needed for all his pent up emotions. He ends up staying out much longer than intended, what with incapacitating three villains and notifying the proper officials from the agency to relocate them, so the sun is setting along the horizon when he finds his way back to the safehouse.
Bakugo is on the phone when he comes in, snaps his head to the side. “Nevermind, bye.”
He ends the call shortly, storms over. “Where the fuck have you been? You left hours ago and I couldn’t get a hold of you. I thought-” His eyes rove over Izuku. “Is that blood?”
Izuku smiles lightly, feeling lighter than before. “Probably! I ran into some villains. I let the agency know. I don’t know why your calls didn’t go through, Kacchan, sorry.”
Bakugo tosses his phone onto the counter noisily, grabbing his arm to drag him to the bathroom.
“Strip.”
Izuku’s easy smile wobbles. “W-what?”
Bakugo tosses his head to the side, “Tch don’t make it weird. You’re injured and it has to be properly disinfected and treated.”
Izuku frowns but realises Bakugo is regretfully right. “Fine, just. Turn around.”
Bakugo barks out a laugh. “Take off your suit, Deku, or else I’ll cut that shit off you.”
Izuku’s breath catches in his throat as his brain lags. Shit. Shit, why does he find that hot? Bakugo raises an eyebrow and Izuku fumbles with his zipper yanking harshly when it sticks.
He’d be thoroughly embarrassed by stripping in front of Bakugo if it weren't for the sudden pain the action creates. The suit had been stuck to more wounds than he remembered receiving.
Bakugo’s lip curls, “Shit, Deku, what did you get into?”
Izuku laughs lightly, kicking his boots off. “Two mutants whose bites were worse than their bark and an unpleasant sword-handed woman.” He tilts his head, thoughtful as he pulls his legs free from the blood-sticky material. “She was quite skilled.”
Bakugo eyes the large gash at his leg. “I see that. Up.” He points at the sink counter.
Izuku, huffs, hauling himself up with a wince.
Bakugo riffles under the sink for a second, coming up with a hero-aid kit. He begins pulling out basic items: antiseptic, needle and sutures, gauze. They line the edge of the sink as Bakugo readies them, ridding them of safety seals and plastic wrapping.
A warm hand lands on Izuku’s thigh, startling him.
“Thighs apart.”
Izuku barely swallows his whimper. “Excuse me?”
Bakugo looks up, eyes molten fire. “The wound is on your inner thigh and I’m gonna have to sew it up, asshole. If you have a problem with opening your legs, get stabbed on the outside next time.”
Izuku pulls his legs apart with a blush. Of course, Bakugo hadn’t meant- What was wrong with him.
Bakugo’s warm hand returns, pulling his left leg to the side more. He wipes the area around the wound with practised movements.
“I’m going to pour the antiseptic over the actual cut now.”
Bakugo doesn’t wait for confirmation, and Izuku hisses in pain when the cold liquid drips over the open wound, stinging before it soothes. He forces himself to take measured breaths.
Bakugo grins, “And you call yourself a hero.”
Izuku smacks his shoulder. “I don’t see you with a two-inch deep injury, Kacchan.”
Bakugo’s grin sharpens. “If you did, I wouldn’t be crying about it.”
Izuku smacks his shoulder again, only harder, receiving a retaliating smack on his thigh. He hisses at the pain, goes to squirm away, but Bakugo’s hand grips his thigh firmly, keeping him still.
“Stay still, fucker.”
Izuku tenses immediately at Bakugo’s voice, deep and husky, different from his usual gruffness. He has to think desperately of any other topic, willing away the arousal pooling in his stomach. Now was the worst possible time to pop a boner.
“Sorry.”
Bakugo keeps his eyes trained down, needle holder in one hand, already prepped with nylon sutures, forceps in the other hand to hold the edges of the wound as he stitches it up. He’s methodical in the way he pulls the curved needle through each side of the wound, laying the first knot of the suture easily. His wrist flips almost delicately through the movements, graceful in a very un-Bakugo-like fashion.
Izuku is so focused on watching him in this new element, that Bakugo is four sutures in before the pain hits him. The fifth suture digs into the beginning of the deeper portion of the cut, edging further up his thigh, more sensitive than Izuku had anticipated.
“Oh, oh, oh, shit .” His hand flies out, grasping Bakugo’s shoulder for support.
Bakugo hisses a warning. “Careful, dumbass!”
Izuku mumbles out an apology, bringing his palm to his mouth as Bakugo continues. His breathing hitches towards erratic, and he’s struggling between the pain and the feeling of Bakugo’s hands sliding higher and higher up his thigh. He shivers as Bakugo cleanly snips the sixth suture.
Bakugo has reached the deepest part of the wound now, and the most sensitive area by far. Izuku squeezes his eyes shut to will away the tears and the sob climbing up his throat.
Bakugo starts the next suture with ease, just like all the others, but the forceps digs too much into sensitive flesh and Izuku’s leg jerks away without his permission. The needle does not move with him, held firmly in Bakugo’s hand, and Izuku cries out at that, amazed that such a small thing could produce such white-hot pain.
Tears stream down his face as Bakugo curses at him. “Fucking hell, Deku, I said stay still!”
Izuku presses his shaking palm to his mouth, eyes unfocused. Bakugo growls, hand reaching up to firmly grab his face.
“Look at me, Deku.”
Izuku blinks away the stinging tears to meet his gaze.
“You’re going to sit still and let me finish this, do you understand?”
Izuku’s mouth parts slightly and he nods.
Bakugo rolls his eyes with a feral grin. “Good, bunny.”
Izuku presses his mouth closed firmly, straightening up. Tries not to think about how that one phrase threatens to undo him. There’s no way Bakugo would let him live it down if he got a boner right now. He’d probably tell the whole office Izuku had a thing for being stitched up.
Worrying has distracted him from the task at hand, Bakugo is three-fourths of the way done, past the deepest part of the wound. This is a blessing for the pain, but a curse for Izuku’s dick, which is horribly aware of how near Bakugo’s hand is.
Bakugo squints, moves closer, concentrating more as the suture length gets shorter after each finished knot. Izuku stops breathing when Bakugo leans in even further, face inches from his crotch, hot breath fanning over his thigh.
Izuku has no power at this point, feels arousal so warm in his stomach that he swears all his blood has rushed to one area. He realises in horror that it has in a way, as his dick twitches in his boxers. Please, he prays, don’t let Bakugo notice. Please, please, please.
Bakugo snips the final suture, pauses afterwards, apparently notices how close he is to Izuku’s dick. Notices he’s hard. Or. Did he? Izuku is as still as a statue as he watches Bakugo dispose of the needle and remaining thread, wiping the closed wound.
He had to have noticed, his eyes had looked up. But he’s moving onto the teeth punctures at Izuku’s rib cage without a word. Cleans the matching bite on his right shoulder in silence.
Izuku chews on his bottom lip nervously, disliking how quiet Bakugo is. It’s not normal.
“Thank you.”
Bakugo’s head snaps up, cheeks dusting the palest shade of red before he snarls. “What?”
“Thank you. It’s a statement of gratitude. I know you may not be used to it.”
Bakugo eases, scoffing lightly. “Idiot.”
Izuku lifts a shoulder, the uninjured one, responding with a yawn.
Bakugo shoves the supplies back in the box, setting the needle holder and forceps aside to sanitise.
“I’ll bring you dinner, you’re gonna fucking eat and go the fuck to bed.”
Izuku frowns, well pouts, really. “I don’t need to go to bed this early, Kacchan.”
Bakugo slams the lid of the box closed. “You haven’t been sleeping, you fucking idiot, you just went out for hours after fighting three villains, and you sustained serious injuries. You are going to eat and go to bed, do you hear me?”
Izuku rolls his eyes. “Yes, dad.”
Bakugo’s hands pop loudly, a false threat. “The fuck you, mean? I’m not All Might!”
Izuku presses a hand to his heart, equally amused and touched. “Well, that much is obvious. What was that you said about surpassing All Might and becoming number one?”
Izuku has to launch himself off the counter to dodge Bakugo, laughs brightly as he darts into the kitchen, places himself on a stool as Bakugo comes barreling in.
He folds his arms on the counter, settling his head on them as he watches Bakugo. “I thought you said you’d feed me?”
Bakugo sneers at him, but it’s more a smile than anything. “Aren’t you gonna put on some clothes?”
Izuku blushes pink as he realises he’s very much in just his boxers. He leaps out of his seat to pull on something more decent.
One attempt to lift his leg tells him how much he doesn’t want to wear pants right now, and riffling through his t-shirts reveals a slightly similar issue. They’re too tight for intense bite wounds. He sits on the floor with random clothes piled beside him, fearing the worst.
Bakugo walks in a few moments later, finding Izuku nearly naked on the floor, mumbling nervously.
“Did you forget how to put on clothes, idiot? Food’s ready.”
Izuku startles a bit, glancing up at Bakugo like a wounded puppy. “I can't wear pants because it hurts, and my shirts are too tight for my other wounds right now.”
Bakugo shakes his head, pulling open a drawer to a tall dresser in the corner of the room. “How are you a pro-hero?” He tosses something soft and black at Izuku’s face before stomping out of the room.
Izuku unravels the cloth, finding it’s one of Bakugo’s infamous skull tees. He pulls it over over his head tenderly, sighing when the soft cotton doesn’t aggravate the bite marks. He eases himself off the floor, feeling all at once very cosy and tired. Maybe sleep would be good for him.
He shuffles into the kitchen with a yawn, sniffing as he walks closer. “Mm, smells good, what is it?”
Bakugo is setting down his dish when he walks in. Izuku only needs a glance to know what it is.
“You made katsudon.” It’s supposed to be a question, but it comes out weirdly.
Bakugo turns around, shoving dirty dishes into the sink. “You love katsudon, why are you complaining?”
Izuku settles in his chair gingerly. “You hate katsudon, Kacchan.”
Bakugo whips around, grumbling. “I said it’s too fucking greasy, idiot. Doesn’t mean I can’t eat it if I want.”
Izuku raises a brow as Bakugo drops into the other chair, glaring at the pork bowl. He turns his glare to Izuku.
“Well, aren’t you gonna fucking eat?”
Izuku blinks once, picking up his chopsticks to dig in. He lifts a bite to his mouth, surprised at how perfectly crispy the pork is, how flavourful the egg is, ashamed that he finds it more delicious than his mother’s.
The moan he sighs out is involuntary, and he tries to ignore how embarrassing that is.
“Kacchan this is amazing.”
Bakugo is watching him with the most peculiar look, eyes flicking from his shirt to the chopsticks hanging in the air by Izuku’s mouth.
“Kacchan?”
Bakugo swallows, nods, and digs into his katsudon without a word. His phone has appeared out of nowhere, a very obvious sign that Bakugo isn’t looking for conversation. Izuku eats the rest of his meal with a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. The warmth of being cared for paired with the oddest sense of rejection. Which is stupid, seeing as Bakugo isn’t taking care of him and there’s nothing for him to reject.
Izuku sets his chopsticks in the bowl when he finishes, considering thanking Bakugo, but deciding he can’t handle this awkward atmosphere anymore.
“Ah, I’m going to try to sleep now.”
Izuku drags himself out of his chair slowly, setting his bowl in the sink. He hardly has the water on for a second before Bakugo is beside him, turning it off aggressively.
“Go the fuck to bed, I’ve got the goddamn dishes.”
Izuku frowns at him. “You made dinner, let me do the dishes.”
Bakugo leans down, levelling him with a fiery look. “It’s not up for debate, Deku, get your ass in bed. Or do I need to tie you to the bed?”
It has the desired effect, Izuku jumps back, cheeks flaming. “You’re such a jerk sometimes, you know. Normally people just say ‘I’ve got it’.”
Bakugo smirks, raising a brow. “And normally people aren’t as stubborn and stupid as you are.”
Izuku opens his mouth to fight him, and Bakugo growls. “I will tie you to the fucking bed if I have to fucker, don’t test me.”
Izuku turns on his foot before his blush grows, stomping into the bedroom as he wills away the mental image. No, he did not want Bakugo to tie him to the bed, that would be horrible. Liar, his brain taunts.
He shoves the thought away as he lowers himself to the bed, not even daring to try getting under the covers, just tugs a pillow free and curls up on his left side, injured leg tucked to his body as the other lays straight just behind it. It doesn’t hurt too badly like this, so he finds that sleep tempts him quickly after he stops moving.
It’s like that that Bakugo finds him, curled atop the duvet in a way that his t-shirt hikes up Izuku’s hip, spilling into the curve of his torso, ass curving deliciously in a way that has Bakugo shaking his head to ignore that train of thought. Izuku knew every trick in the book for teasing Bakugo, he just wasn’t aware of it.
Bakugo runs a hand over his face, trying to pull himself together. This past week had been stupidly frustrating, watching Izuku’s eyes hollow and darken, having to fight every urge to take care of the incompetent idiot.
He brushes a stray curl from his forehead, pleased to see the peaceful softness of Izuku’s features.
“Useless Deku.” Bakugo didn’t whisper this with a soft smile, because Bakugo didn't do anything softly.
Bakugo gets ready for bed quickly, climbs into bed beside Izuku, and has to sit there for a moment before it hits him. He’s laying in the same bed as Izuku. No, it’s not like the scenarios he usually imagined, but there’s hardly a foot of space between them and Izuku is wearing next to nothing aside from Bakugo’s shirt. That’s good enough for him.
Bakugo falls asleep rather easily, all things considered. He hadn’t expected to wake up in the early hours of the morning to movement beside him.
He blinks groggily, turning to look at Izuku. His face is pinched, a light sheen of sweat covers his brow. Bakugo’s heart clenches as he assumes Izuku is having a nightmare.
He places a hand on his shoulder, ready to shake him awake when he realises Izuku is shifting around, an odd jerk of his hips. Bakugo’s brows furrow. Is it his leg? Is the sweat from a fever?
He sits up, fighting alarm. He’s not qualified for anything passed basic med training. If Deku has an infection this soon, something could be very wrong.
Bakugo is just twisting to turn on the side table lamp when he hears it. Izuku moans, soft and high pitched, breath hitching.
Bakugo drops his hand, dares to turn back. Izuku has his hands fisted in the bottom of his shirt, lips parted as he pants, hips moving in a very familiar rutting motion. Bakugo’s mind blanks as he struggles with the carnal desire that tears through him, urges him to pounce on Izuku and devour him.
He squeezes his eyes shut, beating that idea down. Izuku would kill him if he tried anything, and would ignore him for the rest of forever out of mortification. He just needs to go back to sleep and ignore it.
Maybe that stupid plan could have worked if Izuku hadn’t whispered his name, broken and needy.
Bakugo finds himself poised above Izuku in seconds, growls out his name sharply.
“Deku.” Izuku jerks but doesn’t wake up, writhing beneath him. “Deku, wake the fuck up.”
Izuku’s eyes fly open as he shudders, pupils blown wide. “Kacchan?”
Izuku blinks rapidly, assessing the situation: Bakugo hovering over him, the aching between his legs, the incessant need for something more .
“I. Did I wake you up?”
Bakugo shudders through a snarl. “Yes.”
Izuku stills, trying to control his breathing. “Sorry. Are you mad?”
Bakugo chuckles. It’s soft but it’s full of darkness. “That depends. Did you mean to call out my name?” Izuku’s eyes widen, a deer in headlights. Bakugo leans down to whisper in his ear. “I’m hoping you did.”
Izuku shudders beneath him, eyelashes fluttering as his eyes roll back. His hips jerk sharply, a high-pitched whine slips past his lips. He slaps a hand over his mouth a second too late, looking horrified.
Bakugo looks down, back up. “Did you just cum from that?”
Izuku sobs out an ashamed noise, pushing at Bakugo’s shoulder. “Oh my god that’s so embarrassing, get off.”
Bakugo arches a brow, grinning. “I don’t know, Deku, that was kind of hot. Pathetic, but hot.”
Izuku pulls up his good leg, kneeing him squarely in the stomach. Bakugo rolls away with a laugh.
“You’re not allowed to laugh! I’ve been ignoring this for a week! It’s not my fault.”
Bakugo sits up sharply, eyes narrowing. “You haven’t been sleeping because of wet dreams, you fucking idiot? Are you serious?”
Izuku flushes, weak anger rising. “I didn’t know you were-” He gestures at Bakugo like that explains it.
Bakugo smirks. “Hot as shit?”
Izuku kicks out at him, pouting. “You ass! I mean. I thought you’d be mad if you found out. I was trying to ignore it and hope it would go away.”
Bakugo looks at him like he’s stupid. “You tried to ignore your hormones? Since when has that ever worked for anyone?”
Izuku sticks his tongue out in retaliation and Bakugo’s hand darts out smoothly, trapping his tongue between his thumb and pointer finger.
“You’d better keep that to yourself, bunny.”
Izuku’s eyelids drop and he shivers, opening his mouth.
Bakugo curses, following Izuku’s tongue with his fingers. The inside of his mouth is wet and hot, and he darts his tongue across Bakugo’s fingers in teasing little licks.
Bakugo presses down on his tongue, gripping his jaw with the rest of his hand. “Cute, bunny, but you still need sleep.”
Izuku nips his fingers, frustrated. “Tease.”
Bakugo scoffs. “You got off already. Speaking off, clean the fuck up. I don’t want jizz all over the bed.”
Izuku gasps sharply, hand pressing down to cover the wet spot on his boxers. “Asshole.”
Bakugo flops back on the bed. “You like it, apparently.”
Izuku glares at him as he stalks to the bathroom with a clean pair of boxers. He can’t argue with him on that, but he doesn’t have to agree either.
Izuku emerges from the bathroom fresh and clean, ready to make a tired joke, but finds Bakugo has already fallen back asleep. He stifles a laugh behind his hand, allowing the fond look that crosses his face. Bakugo hasn’t changed a bit in some aspects.
He crawls back onto the bed gently, careful not to aggravate his stitched up leg. He falls into a restless sleep, interrupted by his racing thoughts and the pain flaring up at his side. He wakes up several times, glaring at the clock each time. He’s exhausted, but he can’t seem to stay asleep. Laying a foot from his childhood crush is doing horrible things to his concentration. He mentally beats his sex drive into a corner, begging it to behave so he can just go to sleep.
When Bakugo stirs beside him, five AM on the dot, Izuku sighs, dreading a patrol in this state.
He looks over his shoulder. “Showtime, huh?”
Bakugo grunts, flicking on the light. His eyes are soft with sleep, but his voice comes out raspy. “Didn’t I fucking tell you to sleep? You look like shit.”
Izuku shrugs, “It’s not a big deal. Let’s head out and gather what information we can.”
Bakugo tugs his sleep shirt off roughly, pulling it over his head, shoulder muscles flexing when he turns away. “No. I’ll go out. You go back to bed and become a useful member of society, idiot.”
Izuku scoots up on the bed, left leg dangling over the side to ease the pull of the sutures. “I’m fully capable of performing my job, Kacchan. I'm a hero, whether or not you want to admit it.”
Bakugo disappears into the bathroom, door cracked open as he yells through it. “Get a few hours of sleep, and maybe when I get back I’ll let your incompetent ass do the afternoon patrol. Right now it’s not up for debate. You’d either slow me down or get yourself in trouble, so shut the fuck up and listen to me for once.”
Izuku fumes as the faucet turns on, silencing any rebuttal he has. Bakugo emerges from the bathroom after brushing his teeth, a clean pair of black boxers hugging his hips. Izuku looks away quickly.
“What if you get hurt because I’m not there?”
“Haa?” Bakugo barks out the sound, laughing. “I can handle myself, nerd. Some of us can manage to control a few low-level villains.”
Izuku scowls at him, grabbing the pillow beside him, activating full cowling to chuck it at Bakugo’s face. He ducks to the side just in time, growling out a laugh.
“Aw, bunny, you don’t need to throw a fit. If you're worried about me, don’t be.” He grins his signature feral grin. “Be worried for any villain who runs into me.”
Izuku crosses his arms, trying not to pout at how stupidly accurate Bakugo is. Stupid asshole. Bakugo pulls on the rest of his hero costume, the image of death and danger. It does horrible things to Izuku.
Bakugo grabs a small bag from the top of his dresser, returning to the bathroom. Izuku leans forward, fascinated. There’s only one thing missing from the ensemble: Bakugo’s mask. He’s seen him paint his eyes black before, of course, but never this close. He hops off the bed with a small hiss, making his way to the bathroom door, leaning his hip against the frame of the doorway to watch.
Bakugo’s eyes dart to the side, eyebrows rising in question as he pulls out a dark stick of liner.
“What are you doing, nerd?”
Izuku shrugs, smiling. “I’ve never really seen you put it on before. Well. Not when I feel comfortable watching.”
Bakugo snorts, pulling the cap off with his teeth. “You always watch me, creep.”
Izuku rests his head against the door jam, pouting. “Don’t be mean, Kacchan. I’m curious.”
Bakugo opens his mouth, closes it to think. His eyes turn forward, fixed to the mirror. “I always watch you too. No big deal.”
His voice is rough, dismissive, and soft warmth curls in Izuku’s chest. He almost wants to tease Bakugo but notes the flush rising high on his cheeks and decides against it. Bakugo didn’t admit things often, and he didn’t want to say anything that may discourage him from doing it in the future.
He watches in rapt attention as Bakugo lines his right eye in thick, smudged lines, ringing the space of skin that his mask doesn’t cover. It’s the perfect smoke and coal contrast to his fire and magma eyes. The effect is smouldering, darkens his eyes to dangerous wildfire.
“Can I try?” The question startles them both.
Bakugo shoots him a confused look. “You want to put on eyeliner?”
Izuku blinks, not put off by the idea, but shakes his head. “I mean can I try putting it on you? It looks fun.”
Bakugo points the liner at him, scowling. “Only if you don’t fuck it up and get back to bed afterwards.”
Izuku presses a hand to his heart mockingly. “If you want to be All Might so bad, being my dad isn’t the best way to do it.”
“Haa? Will, you shut up with that!”
Izuku laughs at Bakugo’s pinched face. “Sorry, are you trying to be Mom instead?”
Bakugo snarls in annoyance. “Don’t compare me to Auntie Inko, it’s fucking weird!”
Izuku’s laughter brightens, bubbling over as he grabs the liner from Bakugo’s hand. “You're so easy to annoy, Kacchan.”
Bakugo scoffs, tossing his head. “No, you’re just annoying.”
Izuku rolls his eyes, grabbing Bakugo’s chin lightly. “Okay don’t move! I don’t want to stab your eye.”
Bakugo’s lip curls, but he leans down a bit, crowding into Izuku’s space. Izuku blinks carefully, fighting against the magnetism of looking into Bakugo’s eyes so closely. His eyes are always so intense, and proximity enhances it. He sucks in a shaky breath, setting his resolve as he brings the liner up, dragging the soft tip in short, sweeping strokes like he’d seen Bakugo do. He starts under his eye, smudging the lines together with his thumb when he finishes.
“Close your eyes, please.”
Bakugo holds his gaze for a second longer before closing his eyes. Izuku finds it easier to breathe once he does, covering the lid of Bakugo’s eyes in a deep abyss of black. He drags the edges out, smoothing them with his finger, before pulling back.
“Open.”
Bakugo raises his brows for a short second before opening his eyes. He doesn’t turn to the mirror, pins Izuku with a heated gaze.
“Well?”
Izuku takes a second to process the question. “Huh? Well, what?”
Bakugo chuckles darkly. “How does it look, dumbass?”
Izuku admires Bakugo’s face for a minute, nods jerkily. “Yes. I mean, yeah, good. It looks good.”
Bakugo’s smile is smug. “Bed, now.”
Izuku flushes bright red, stumbling back as Bakugo laughs. “You do that on purpose!”
Bakugo shrugs, grinning. “Maybe.”
Izuku grumbles out a complaint as he stomps over to the bed, flopping down onto his stomach, curls his arms under his head. He turns his face to look at Bakugo when he walks back into the room.
Bakugo tugs on his boots, slipping his phone into a hidden pocket of his suit. “I’ll be back around midday or so. I expect to find you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, or I’m calling Iida and having you removed from this mission.”
Izuku’s responding snarl is almost Bakugo-level feral. “You can’t do that.”
Bakugo towers over the bed. “Don’t test me, Deku. You have to help yourself to help everyone else, got it? Don’t do that self-sacrificing shit or I’ll string your ass up.”
Izuku rolls his eyes, “Promise?”
Bakugo exhales deeply. “I’m leaving now.”
Bakugo stomps out of the room loudly, true to his word, and slams the front door shut a minute later. The house settles into an odd quiet then, and Izuku rests his cheek back on his forearm. There’s no sense in fighting sleep if Bakugo is serious about having him pulled from the mission.
Izuku shuts his eyes, finds his mind is much quieter without Bakugo’s heat next to him, obvious and unavoidable. The duvet is cool against his skin, applies enough pressure to his wounds to soothe the throbbing. He finds sleep easier to come than last night, drifts into a foggy cloud of blissful rest.
Bakugo returns to the safe house at 12:10, sweating slightly, a grin stretched across his face. Nothing gets his blood pumping quite like kicking ass.
He eases the door shut softly, hoping Izuku is still sleeping. He’ll let the damned idiot sleep through the afternoon shift if he can. He peeks into the bedroom, groans at how Izuku is splayed across the bed, ass in the air, shirt hiked up to show off a tanned expanse of smooth skin. He may be small, but fuck those thighs. Bakugo is loath to admit he’d love them wrapped around his head.
None of this is helped by the fact that Izuku is very clearly having another sex dream, fingers twitching against the duvet, hips jerking as he pants into his arm.
Bakugo steps closer against his better judgment, entranced by the small noises leaving Izuku’s mouth, an audible drug.
His hands clench at his sides, tempted to touch. “Deku.” His voice comes out gravelly.
Izuku’s hips lift, a small whine leaving his lips. Bakugo scrubs a hand over his face, ripping his mask off when it gets in his way.
“Deku.” His voice comes out louder, more forceful, demanding Izuku wake up now.
Izuku startles awake, looking up with hazy eyes.
“Katsuki.”
Bakugo stills, dick jumping to attention at how Izuku says his name like a plea.
He steps closer to the bed, boots sounding loudly on the wood flooring.
“Deku? You with me?”
Izuku blinks, rubbing at his eyes, looking around slightly before he returns his gaze to Bakugo, cheeks flushing suddenly.
“Again, really?” Izuku buries his blushing face in his arms, effectively ignoring Bakugo.
Bakugo’s gut tightens with heat. “Look at me, bunny.”
Izuku huffs out an embarrassed whine, glaring pitifully up at Bakugo. His eyes dart over his hero costume for a moment or two, drinking in the flex of his chest under skin-tight material. Bakugo’s fingers snap in front of his face, catching his attention, and Izuku feels his face heat up further at the way Bakugo is laughing at him.
“You want help with that?”
Bakugo’s eyes lock swiftly onto his dick before meeting his gaze again.
Izuku’s mouth falls open in shock, legs pulling up to curl against his stomach. He winces at the way the movement tugs at his sutures.
“I. You don’t need to. I can.” He stares firmly at Bakugo’s boots, embarrassed and thoroughly aroused.
Bakugo growls, more predatory than angry, leans into his space. “Who said anything about needing to? What if I want to?”
Izuku squirms, struggling to focus around the wave of arousal scrambling his brain. “You?”
Bakugo’s fingers grip Izuku’s chin firmly, pulling his face up to look at him. “Oh, very much, nerd.”
Izuku’s lips part, a whimper slipping past as he drowns in the fire of Bakugo’s dangerous gaze.
“Turn over, bunny. “
Izuku rolls off his stomach, pulling his shirt down self-consciously. Bakugo grins, a predator eyeing up its prey, hooking a hand under Izuku’s right thigh and pulling. Izuku falls forward with a nervous giggle, hands landing on Bakugo’s thighs to keep steady. He jerks his hands away quickly, biting his lip.
Bakugo’s eyes sparkle with teasing laughter, hands snaking up Izuku’s bare thighs. Izuku shudders at the feel of the rough gloves, appreciative that Bakugo keeps a wide distance from the sword wound. His hand travels higher, gripping at Izuku’s hips, teasing under the hem of his shirt.
“You gonna be good for me, bunny?”
Izuku chokes out a laugh, covering his face. “Oh my god, don’t say that.”
Bakugo grins, pleased. “What? Does that make you nervous?”
Izuku peeks between his fingers, glaring softly. “Yes!”
Red eyes sharpen, hungry, and hot fingers dig into Izuku’s hips, making him arch into the touch.
“I like making you nervous.”
Izuku drops his hands, pout pressed into a playful frown. “That certainly explains things.”
Bakugo just grins, teeth flashing, leans forward until Izuku tilts back, eyes wide.
“Say my name again, Deku.”
Izuku blinks in confusion, mind blanking as Bakugo’s hand drags up his side. “Kacchan?”
Bakugo’s laugh rumbles in the space between them without humour. “Not quite, try again.”
Izuku flails around for a second. Was Bakugo asking him to call him something else? His mind lands on several options that he is not capable of saying out loud.
“I?” And then his brain comes back online for a second, remembers how dream Bakugo had made him call him Katsuki, had gotten off on it.
He looks up at Bakugo shyly, cheeks dusted pink. “Katsuki?”
Bakugo groans, diving in to kiss Izuku full on the mouth, and Izuku melts beneath him, swept up on the fact that years of pining and dreaming and wishing are finally happening. Katsuki Bakugo is kissing him. Kissing him fiercely like he’s expressing himself without words.
Bakugo’s wandering hands travel south, dipping just beneath the band of his underwear.
“Do you want this?”
Izuku bucks beneath him, frustrated. “What do you think?”
Bakugo grips the band more firmly, tugging. “Just making sure, bunny.”
Bakugo slides his boxers down, Izuku raises his hips to assist him, tugging the oversized shirt down to cover himself. Bakugo raises an eyebrow but doesn’t move his hands away.
“I haven’t-” Izuku blurts out.
Bakugo rolls his eyes. “Tch, you think I have? I’ve got more important things to do.”
Izuku giggles nervously. “Do you know what to do then?” He widens his eyes in fake concern as he lowers his voice to a whisper. “You won’t blow up my dick, will you?”
Bakugo’s eyes flash, but he surprisingly doesn’t take the bait. “I can blow your mind and your dick, don’t worry.”
Izuku sees the determined set of his jaw, is reminded that Bakugo doesn’t fail at anything, swallows thickly. “Well. That’s, um. Nice.”
Bakugo levels him with a blank stare, tugs at his shirt. “You done hiding?”
Izuku leans his head back, staring at the ceiling, but releases his death grip on the bottom of the shirt.
Bakugo sucks in an audible breath, “Shit, Deku.”
Izuku doesn’t look down, knows how hard he is, flushed bright pink at the head, dripping onto his stomach.
Bakugo’s hand curls under him experimentally, and Izuku’s hips buck halfway off the bed.
“K-kacchan! Shit. Your gloves.” He whimpers, hating how delicious the rough material feels against his sensitive cock.
Bakugo squeezes slightly, growling. “Wrong name, bunny.”
Izuku looks down then, pleading. “Kacchan, please, it’s embarrassing.”
“Haa? I’ve got your dick in my hand and you’re embarrassed to call me by my name? Fucking nerd.”
Izuku doesn’t answer, couldn’t form a sentence if he wanted because Bakugo has wrapped his hot mouth around the head of his dick. Izuku chokes on air, fists a hand into Bakugo’s spiky hair, earning a pleased chuckle.
“Oh god, Kacchan that’s-” His breathing stutters. Bakugo hollows his cheeks, does something with his tongue that has Izuku crying out in pleasure. “Kacchan, please, oh god, oh god, shit.”
Bakugo’s lips pull back in warning, and a gloved hand slaps against Izuku’s uninjured thigh.
Izuku curses at him. “Fine fine, asshole, shit- Katsuki.”
Bakugo groans around him, pleased, sucking Izuku further into his mouth.
Izuku’s hand tightens in Bakugo’s hair. “Kac-Katsuki not gonna.” He pants, squirming. “I’m gonna-”
Bakugo doesn’t pull up, drops to the base of Izuku’s dick in one go, and Izuku whimpers through his release, shaking under Bakugo’s hands.
Izuku leans back on his elbows, spent, but the way Bakugo licks his lips after he pulls away has his traitorous dick twitching in interest.
“Well, that was quick. You have all the stamina of a highschooler, nerd.”
Izuku blushes in shame, tugging his large tee-shirt down to cover himself again.
“Sorry.”
Bakugo’s eyes snap up, fingers pausing where they wipe at his mouth. “The fuck are you apologising for, idiot?”
Izuku’s hands flail in front of him, gesturing in an attempt to explain. “The. Well, you. I don’t know, I’m sorry.”
“Tch. Dumb bunny.”
Izuku’s shoulders drop and he grins sheepishly. “Do you, uh.”
Bakugo settles on the edge of the bed, raising an eyebrow.
“Do you want me to? Um. Do you need help with?”
Bakugo glances at the clock. “The afternoon shift starts in ten minutes. I thought you wanted to get out?”
Izuku bounces in place, eyeing the clock, biting his lip before turning back with a shrug. “I’ll be quick!”
Bakugo stares in shock as Izuku eagerly reaches for the belt of his hero costume, tugging the belt free in one motion. Bakugo’s pants drop to the floor before he has time to think, and Izuku has his dick in his hand within the second.
Izuku twists his wrist, pulling his hand up the length, counter-clockwise then clockwise, until he reaches the tip. He leans in, eyebrows drawn down, studying Bakugo’s length.
“The fuck, nerd? You gonna take notes?”
Izuku looks up at him, mischief in his eyes as he drags his thumb up, rubbing just under the head. Bakugo’s hips jerk forward without his permission, and his mouth drops open in a groan.
Izuku continues rubbing small circles under the head, fascinated by the smoothness and the way the tiny movement has Bakugo undone in seconds. He pulls his hand back, making eye contact as he drags his tongue up his palm, slicking his hand all the way up to his fingers.
Bakugo’s eyes grow darker, red swallowed up by the pupils, watching intently as Izuku takes him in hand. He cups his hand around the head slowly, tightening before dragging his hand down smoothly, pulling back up with equal force. Bakugo’s hip’s stutter, overwhelmed by how wet and warm Izuku’s hand is around him.
Izuku continues his torturous pace for a few minutes, watching Bakugo as his breathing grows heavy. His dick twitches and Izuku shifts gears, grabbing Bakugo by the base with his free hand as he swirls his hand, wrist twisting in the most perfect way. Bakugo curses, squeezing his eyes shut as Izuku picks up the pace.
Izuku feels the moment Bakugo reaches a breaking point, his dick hardens further, twitching under his palm, and Izuku pulls his hand from the base to work at the shaft, focusing his other hand at the head, mouth parting in fascination as he watches Bakugo crumble under his touch. He drags a thumb across his slit, humming at how wet it is, and startles when Bakugo cums violently, spewing curses.
Izuku sits back very suddenly, wiping at his face in annoyance. “You came on my face.”
Bakugo cracks an eye open, grinning, reaches across to drag a thumb through the cum painted on Izuku’s cheek, swipes it over his bottom lip. Izuku rolls his eyes, but opens his mouth, letting Bakugo push his thumb inside his mouth, licks at the salty liquid.
Bakugo groans at that, tilting his head back. “Fucking minx.”
Izuku chuckles, taking a look at the clock. “Just in time! I’m gonna clean up and we can head out.” He looks down. “Speaking of, you gonna put it away?”
Bakugo blinks, mildly dazed. “What? Speaking of what?”
Izuku stifles his laughter. “You know, speaking of head out, are you gonna put it away?”
Bakugo rolls his head towards Izuku, blinks once, and bursts into howling laughter. “You’re dumb as fuck.” Despite his words, he zips up his pants with a silent laugh.
Izuku preens, proud to have made Bakugo laugh so openly.
…
It’s two weeks after their reconnaissance mission that Izuku and Bakugo finally find a free day in their schedules that matches up. Izuku is working his way onto Bakugo’s lap when his phone rings.
“Don’t pick that shit up.”
Izuku smiles in apology. “Sorry, it might be work. It’ll just be a second, promise!”
Bakugo tosses his head back against the couch, grumbling. “I’m counting, at sixty I’m hanging up for you.”
Izuku sticks his tongue out at him but smiles as he hops off the couch to answer his phone. “Izuku Midoriya, how can I help you?”
“Don’t give me that shit, Deku! Why didn’t you tell me Bakugo sucked your dick!”
Izuku pulls his phone away from his ear in surprise, confirming that, yes, it is Uraraka on the other line. “I. Uraraka? What are you talking about?”
She groans into the phone, annoyed. “You’re hopeless!” Her voice bubbles over, suddenly eager and impish. “Did you fuck?”
Izuku squeals out a shocked noise, hissing into the phone. “No, we did not! Will you stop laughing! I can’t believe you’re calling about that instead of the mission.”
She huffs dismissively, and Izuku can imagine her waving her hand in the air. “Yeah yeah, you all took down the big bad villain gang and put an end to their drug manufacturing with minimal casualties, I already heard from Iida. I want to hear about you and Bakugo hooking up because Kiri wouldn’t tell me any details!”
Izuku stills, turning to shoot Bakugo a withering glare. “What did you hear from Kirishima?”
Bakugo stiffens on the couch, eyes fixed to his phone. “Goddamn, Shitty Haired Loser!”
Izuku kicks a foot at him, scowling. “It’s not Kirishima’s fault you have a big mouth!”
Uraraka giggles on the other line. “What else does his mouth do.”
Izuku blushes immediately, waving his hands around even though she can’t see him. “You can’t just ask that!”
Her pouting is evident. “I told you about me and Tsu!”
Izuku sinks onto the couch opposite Bakugo, hiding his face. “I never asked!”
She huffs again. “I will get this out of you tomorrow! Have a fun evening!” She stresses the word fun in a way that makes it very obvious what she’s insinuating.
Izuku ends the call, glaring at Bakugo as he crosses his arms.
“Hey, bunny, let’s be rational here.”
“I’m not sucking your dick for a week. And I mean the next seven days we happen to get together.”
Bakugo’s eyes widen, doing the mental math as he works through their overlapping schedules. “Baby, come on, I didn’t mean to!”
Izuku fights the smile tugging at his frown, turning his head away.
Bakugo groans from the other couch, rising to move closer. Izuku stops him with his foot when he gets too close.
“Aw Deku, don’t be like that. Come on.”
Izuku turns his head slightly to look at Bakugo, sniffs once. “Say you’re sorry.”
Bakugo grins at him, rubbing his hand up his leg. Izuku pulls it back, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m sorry, bunny.” His voice is spiced honey, dark and sweet, and Izuku has to fight his weakening resolve.
“Beg me to forgive you and I might consider it.”
Bakugo’s grin sharpens, sensing he’s won. He drops to his knees in a beautiful display, eyes shadowed and teeth gleaming, presses lingering kisses up his legs as he whispers apologies. He’s made his way up to his mid-thigh when Izuku’s resolve crumbles to dust.
“Forgive me, bunny?” A soft kiss presses high up on his right thigh, heating the skin like a brand.
Izuku’s lungs stutter, and he sighs softly. ‘How could I say no to that?”
Bakugo rises like a striking snake, pressing warm kisses to Izuku’s mouth, jaw, neck. Melts him into a puddle on the couch.
“Are you gonna suck my dick now?”
Izuku startles them both with how loud he laughs, doubling over with the force of it.
“Is that a no?”
Izuku’s laugh bubbles over at that, tears forming in his eyes as he slings his arms around Bakugo’s neck. “Yeah, I’ll suck your dick, you idiot.”