Chapter Text
The clock had just struck midnight when Bakugou defeated the last few bandits. There were a total of 10, each carrying some sort of weapon and other items that they hoped would disrupt the hero's work, yet failed miserably as he promptly took them to the ground. Though the air was cold and weakened his power, he still managed to establish order. The group scurried away after that, leaving Bakugou to himself, labored breathing filling his ears and making his throat burn.
"Stupid fucking bandits," he muttered, bringing a hand up to dust the ash off his hoodie. "Not even worthy of a legitimate fight, yet they want to pick one so badly." He shook his head so any remaining ash and dust could escape his thick hair. If it hadn't been for the late night walk he decided to do about an hour ago, he wouldn't have been in this situation, but look where he was now. So to fix the terrible mistake he made, he turned right around and began his journey back to his apartment.
The wind caught onto the open wound on his side, creating a icy and prickling sensation that honestly hurt more than it should've. "Fuck fuck fuck," he cursed, a hand immediately coming to cover the wound. That only increased the pain, as he realized his head was sweaty with nitroglycerin. "Shit that hurts!" he yelped, hand flying from the wound. Now he was fucked, knowing it would have a serious chance of becoming infected if he didn't treat it soon, so he picked up the pace to his apartment, hoping Kirishima would still be awake to open the door.
That was another thing. Bakugou not only left in the middle of the night to walk alone, but he also forgot to grab any personal belongings, including his keys.
He tucked his hands deep in the pockets of his hoodie, head low and feet fast, praying his roommate wasn't asleep, and hurried onward.
Bakugou made it to his apartment in just under 10 minutes, and he immediately began pounding on the door while yelling, "Hey Shitty Hair! Open the door!" He waited for a brief moment, and no movement from the other side was heard. He pounded on the door again and again, and yet, nothing. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, just what I wanted," he cursed out, hand flying to his hair and pulling on it. Now he was locked outside in the cold night in nothing but a hoodie and shorts.
He kicked the door and walls in a fit of outrage, cursing explicit things and setting off miniature explosions in his hands. Just as he was about to say fuck it and tear down the door, he heard laughter from below. Pausing and looking over the railings, he caught onto a couple. A guy and a girl, both in their younger years and clearly drunk as hell. The girl whispered something into his ear, and he audibly gasped. It must've been something arousing, because he pulled her in close, one hand on the waist and the other holding her back the back of the head.
Bakugou realized how creepy it must've seemed to be watching them, so he quickly adverted his eyes and took a deep breath. He cursed himself for being so nosey, but the laughter and gasps from both parties reeled him back in to watching.
The girl was now pinned against a pillar, her arms around her boyfriend's neck, letting out soft gasps as he worked kisses down her neck. She bared herself even further for him, then allowed him to pick her up and wrap her legs around his back. Heat pooled low in Bakugou's gut, blood rushing south as he continued watching. Was this the same as watching porn? Was it just as sinful? Or had he simply felt the longing himself and just so happened to be near what he craved?
Thoughts of doubt, worry, anger—even lust—all swirled through his mind. It was as if he was getting sucked into some film that he was forced to watch, but he slowly began to enjoy it. The girl began to rut against the boy, head leaned back and hands pulling at his hair. Bakugou had no idea when the couple actually started doing the tango, but it was too late to doubt, so he continued watching from afar.
Somehow, in the midst of watching, he began to think of the same situation happening to him. Who he'd be, the guy or girl, he had no clue—but the ache to touch and lick and kiss someone was becoming extremely difficult to avoid these years. Now with Kirishima rooming with him, he was struck with guilt when he thought of inviting someone over. He didn't want to disrespect shitty hair like that, but it genuinely was getting to that point.
More heat and blood traveled down south, and before he knew it, that little tent from beforehand became a big problem. It wasn't even watching the people that aroused him, but rather the thoughts of being in that same scenario. His breathing began to pick up, and he had to grip one of the railing poles to keep his balance. Fuck, this was so fucking pathetic. Getting hard over watching people have public sex? He was seriously becoming a pervert.
"Unless you plan on joining them, I'd suggest coming inside."
Bakugou hurled his body around, hand coming to fly directly at whoever spoke behind him. His fist met with solid rock, forming an explosion that could be heard from quite afar. Smoke and dust infiltrated Bakugou's senses, and he had to cough and rub at his eyes so that he could see clearly. What he didn't expect to see was the shitty red hair that he hated so much, or the shirtless body that faced him, engraved with ridges and valleys from hardening up.
"Well fuck me, if it isn't Shitty Hair," he said, bitter laced through his words. Though, it was more of shame he felt for being caught in the lustful act. He heard a scream, and he whipped his head to see the couple, hands interlocked and rushing from the apartment building.
"Didn't expect you to be such a pervert, Katsuki," Kirishima taunted.
Bakugou whipped his head back, coming face to face with his roommate, who had a smug grin on his face and eyes that revealed mischief. "Shut the hell up, you saw nothing." He shoved past the younger, rushing inside the apartment and heading straight for the bathroom. Footsteps could be heard from behind, and fiery red hair peaked from the edge as Kirishima watched him go through the drawers.
"What're you doing? Do you need help? Do I need to get anything else?"
The questions began to create a throbbing pain in his head, and he could no longer take it. He turned around, eyes wide and shouting, "I don't need no damn help! Just leave me alone will you?"
The moment struck something in Bakugou, yet it wasn't noticeable enough for Kirishima, because he simply ignored the outburst. Bakugou continued rummaging through all drawers until he gave up. "Where the fuck is the medical kit?"
"In the cabinet above the toilet," Kirishima answered.
Well fuck him, that was too high. Never mind that, Bakugou wasn't a wimp. He could get a kit that was high off. He stood on his tip toes, his right hand reaching out to grasp at the handle. It was barely a touch on the knob, and he could feel the burning gaze of Kirishima from the doorway. The younger had the audacity to say, "Still think you don't need my help?"
Bakugou attempted once more, replying to Kirishima as he brought his other arm up, "Yes, I'm fine—FUCK!" The movement had stretched the wound, and white hot pain blinded him for a moment, and his knees buckled. Hands caught him before he could collapse on the floor, and the voice of his roommate echoed in his ears.
"Kugou...Bakugou—Katsuki!" Kirishima held Bakugou close to his own body, one arm supporting him by the waist and the other cradling his head. "Please tell me you're alright! I can't have you passing out on me and leaving me stranded."
The hand that cradled his head went to touch his face, and Bakugou regained enough consciousness to swat it away. "Leave me alone Shitty Hair, I'm fine!" He pushed away from Kirishima, opting to lean against the wall instead.
It seemed as if Kirishima had enough of his bullshit, so he pushed past Bakugou and grabbed the medical kit himself. Bakugou caught a scent of deep amber, and he would be lying to himself if he said it didn't create a quite yet hot heat deep below. The warmth of Kirishima radiated off him, and a sudden urge to shuffle closer prodded at him.
Bakugou ignored it, because he knew it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Yet he couldn't help the desperation that began to smother his nerves and push his body closer. Kirishima's back was facing him, and he couldn't help but be mesmerized by the grooves and motions from his muscles as he reached up to grab the kit.
The younger turned to face him, eyes meeting his, worry laced through those burning irises. "Come with me to my bedroom," he said. "I'll help you tend to your wound."
Like hell he would do that.
"I can do it myself fuckface," Bakugou spat. "I don't need to be coddled and tended to like I'm a child." He made a move to escape with the kit, but he felt Kirishima's hand grab his jaw and force him to look back at the younger. Electricity shot through Bakugou's spine, combined with the surprised and slightly impressed emotions when he realized how easily he just got manhandled.
"I know you can do it yourself, I'm not stupid. But I also know that you won't be careful, so and you'll end up sweaty, shaking, and probably accidently blowing yourself up." Burning red eyes didn't leave his as he spoke, and Bakugou would be damned that Kirishima's word choice left him feeling a little bit stirred deep down south. "I want to help you, and I'm hoping you'll allow me."
A moment passed, then another. Bakugou still didn't answer. To be honest, he knew what he wanted. He wanted Kirishima to help him, but the thought of admitting it riled him up in ways he didn't like. Yet, he couldn't sit here like a dumbass and be quiet all night, could he? Kirishima needed an answer, after all. "Fuck it, fine. Do it, but you better not scratch me with your fingers shitface."
The usual, lighthearted grin reappeared on Kirishima's face, and he wasted no time grabbing Bakugou by the arm and leading him to his bedroom. When they entered, he urged the blonde to sit on the bed, preferably laying on his back, but either was fine. "Now tell me," Kirishima asked, grabbing sanitizer and rubbing it in his hands, "how in the world did you manage to achieve a gash as deep as that?"
"Does it really matter fuckface? It's none of your business, and I don't really care enough to tell you." He rolled his eyes and threw a forearm over his head, covering his vision. The last thing he wanted to do was see the guilt in Kirishima's eyes. He couldn't stand the sight in people's eyes, especially if it was his roommate's.
"But you care enough to let me help you."
Those words had Bakugou flying to sit up, eyes blown wide like he'd just heard the wildest thing. "I don't give a fucking care in the world if you help me or not." Shit, he had not meant to say that. Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut? He was saying every wrong thing, yet he just couldn't stop.
Kirishima raised a brow, daring to test Bakugou's words. "So by your logic, you wouldn't care if I left right now?"
"No, I wouldn't give a single fuck."
Testing it, Kirishima raised from his seat, beginning to make his way to the kitchen. A sudden feeling of guilt and fear washed over Bakugou, and he hastily jumped to his feet and grabbed Kirishima's bicep.
"Wait—Eijirou—no. Fuck, no. Don't leave. " He mentally smacked himself as he realized the two mistakes he'd just made.
First, he literally just told Kirishima to leave, then literally grabbed and stopped him.
Second, he just made himself look like the most pathetic and desperate human being on the planet.
"I swear I'm no pushing you away—wait, fuck, I kinda am." Bakugou brought his gaze down, trying to articulate a sentence that wasn't laced with bitter and hatred, or even shame. "I need he—" he paused. "I need help."
He could feel the wavering shock that emitted from Kirishima, and he honestly felt like shrinking into a ball and hiding from the world for the rest of his life. That had to have been the top 10 most embarrassing things he ever had to do in his life.
"Did I just hear that right?" Kirishima asked. He did the same thing in the bathroom, grabbing Bakugou's jaw and forcing the older to look at him. This only brought even more shame and embarrassment down on Bakugou, yet he made no attempt to escape. "Okay, sit back down then."
They finally settled down, with Bakugou laying back on the bed and Kirishima sitting criss cross next to his left side. The medical kit had all of its items scattered on the covers, Kirishima holding an antiseptic solution in one hand and cotton balls in the other.
"Okay, I'm going to pour some antiseptic solution onto your wound so that it can destroy any dirt and bacteria surrounded the cut, but I will warn you, it's going to hurt."
Bakugou spared him a glance, then reverted him eyes back to the ceiling. "Tch, just get it over with. I'm not delicate."
"Never said you were," Kirishima replied, "I'm just warning you."
"Just do it!"
"Okay Okay, so demanding," Kirishima laughed as he spoke. He didn't pay mind to the shocked expression that washed over Bakugou's face. "I need you to take off your hoodie completely, by the way. Though, given the pain, I guess I should help you get it off."
Bakugou didn't have enough time to process what Kirishima just said, because he was instantly being maneuvered to have his arms above his head and those large hands grasping at the hem of his hoodie. Kirishima's hand grazed the deep line on his pelvis, the sensation leading directly down south. Those same hands brought the hoodie up and above his head, tearing it completely off. Then, to make matters worse, Kirishima's hand went to lightly touch the uninjured skin near his wound. Just that action sent a shiver down Bakugou's spine, and he resisted to swat the hand away. He'd be lying if he said it didn't make him feel good and relaxed.
"How bad does it hurt? Kirishima asked, seeming more mesmerized about touching Bakugou than examining the wound. But the blonde wasn't actually sure of that.
"If you had a wound inches deep on your abdomen and someone was fucking playing with it, how much would you think?" Obvious matters Bakugou, obvious matters.
Kirishima shrugged, but decided he had enough staring. "Lay back," he said, taking a hand and pushing on Bakugou's chest so that he could lay completely flat on the bed. He reached to the side and grabbed the bottle, pouring the liquid onto one of the cotton balls, then carefully dabbing it around the cut.
A searing pain hit the blonde as he felt the liquid hitting his injured skin. His lower back arched off the bed, hands balling the sheets into his fists and eyes squeezing shut. "Fuck that hurts! Be a little nicer would ya, shitty hair?"
"That was barely a push, Katsuki," Kirishima said, but continued nevertheless. He attempted to made the process as quick as possibly, but each dab from the cotton ball only seemed to make Bakugou even more restless. Kirishima took note of the sweat that began to coat his skin, especially around his forehead and arms. "I'm sorry, I swear I'm trying to be gentle."
"I believe you, but it just hurts like a bitch," Bakugou replied, but at least he wasn't directly insulting Kirishima.
Kirishima finished up the last parts of cleaning the wound with the liquid, before transitioning to applying a healing cream he knew would work wonders. He noticed other smaller but inflamed cuts ont he other side of Bakugou's waist, so made sure to get those too. "Alright big guy, time to wrap you up like a present so that these don't get messed with."
"And how do you plan on doing that?" Bakugou had a brow raised, accompanied with a slight scowl and narrow of his eyes. If he was going to be told to spin around and around while Kirishima held the bandage, he was out.
"Just stand and lift your arms, Katsuki," Kirishima muttered, grabbing the lengthy bandage. It was a thin white one that seemed to be a base layer for wounds, so it clearly couldn't hurt much, could it? Bakugou raised his arms near his head, and he watched in bewilderment as Kirishima stepped forward, arms reaching around his waist to wrap the bandage around his waist. He did it around three times, before grabbing a thicker bandage and wrapping that around Bakugou's middle.
The blonde was once again engulfed in that deep amber smell, the heat radiating off the younger. All he could really see was a face full of chest and neck, striations and muscles flexing as Kirishima worked his way around Bakugou's wounds.
Before Bakugou could even grasp what the fuck just happened, and why the fuck all his anger, hatred, shock, fear, and nerves traveled down south, Kirishima grabbed him by the hips and pulled him in close. It wasn't close enough to have the obvious problem that began to form hit Kirishima's own bulge, but it was definitely getting there.
"Shitty hair—" Bakugou attempted to speak.
"Shh."
He was now pulled even closer, and this time they were flush, and to say Bakugou was shocked and embarrassed was an understatement. He could feel quite literally everything on Kirishima's side. From the grooves of his abs to the very obvious bulge from the younger, which was not so obviously pressing and rubbing against Bakugou's own problem. Kirishima's face was buried deep into the junction of Bakugou's neck, arms snaking around his waist and holding him close.
Bakugou instantly began to shake, hands only able to grip Kirishima's shoulders as he attempted to process what was going on. He wanted to pry himself from the man's grasp because of fear, but the arousal that was pooling in his gut had him aching to stay in this position. He could choose neither option, simply for the fact that he was so frozen with all the feelings that he just let Kirishima do whatever he wanted.
And so Kirishima did (once he realized Bakugou was okay with it).
He pulled Bakugou impossibly close, one hand staying around his back as the other began sliding up his spine and to cradle his neck. He bared the older boy's junction, and it was a moment of peace for Bakugou before he felt a hot, wet sensation on his skin.
"Shit—Kirishima—fuck, I didn't—Oh shit, hold on." All thoughts instantly turned to mush, and he felt his knees buckle a little as Kirishima worked kisses and hickeys on his neck. When he accidently nipped at a certain spot, Bakugou let out a whimper, and if that wasn't the most humiliating thing he'd ever done in his life.
Bakugou had no idea what was going on at the moment. He was fueled by so many emotions, brain so fucked up and turned into mush, that he didn't even realize Kirishima had left an array of hickeys, or realized that he had already became incredibly close to coming just from practically grinding against Kirishima's own dick.
"Kirishima—shit, stop stop stop," Bakugou tried to say, but his body completely contradicted his words as he continued to chase an orgasm.
"Fuck Katsuki," Kirishima cursed—and damn, did Bakugou love when Kirishima cursed. "You feel so good like this."
Bakugou hadn't even realized it, but the hot arousal in his gut and the tightness that accompanied it was extremely close, and he had no control over his body as it chased that orgasm. He grinded against Kirishima's body like it was one of those pillows you'd use to hump during the late nights or a wet dream, and he felt himself falling over the edge not even a moment later.
Pleasure and pain blinded him for what felt like an eternity, and he let out another humiliation moan and whimper as he felt himself give in to his orgasm. Kirishima held him there as he ruined himself, inside and out, whispering sweet praises and kissing his neck and hands.
"You did so good Katsuki," he whispered against Bakugou's neck, "so fucking good."
Bakugou didn't even have any words to reply or insult Kirishima, so he just let himself be held, then soon lowered onto the bed. "Fuck—my fucking pants. What the hell?" For some reason, what he did wasn't really sticking to him. Like it wasn't that serious.
"I'm going to get a washcloth and a new change of clothes from your room, alright?" Kirishima gave a quick kiss under his jaw before turning and leaving the room, leaving Bakugou to sit on his bed and let all of what he'd just done hit him.
"I just came in my pants," he told himself, "just from.."
It finally dawned on him.
He just came untouched. Not only untouched, but simply from his roommate.
He just had some sort of sex with Kirishima.
"Oh FUCK."