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Ochako Uraraka is the most annoying person Katsuki has ever met.
She’s bubbly, with a shit-ton of friends from all the social circles one could dream up. She’s athletic, probably about to coast into university with a cheerleading scholarship on her shoulders. She’s smart, but in the ditziest, clumsiest way possible, the way that makes everyone underestimate her.
She’s Deku’s girlfriend.
That’s enough of an explanation.
It all adds up to a nasty mathematical equation that Katsuki has absolutely no intention of solving. She’s about as appealing as his English Literature homework, and that’s saying something, considering he fucking hates English.
She’s objectively pretty, too, but not in the good way. It’s in the way that makes him nervous, sweaty-palmed and angry, not in an appreciative, admiring and thoughtful kind of way.
In short, he hates Uraraka.
Kirishima doesn’t get it.
“It’s kinda weird, man.” He says one day, rubbing at the back of his neck with his massive hands. He smells like sweat and cheap body spray.
But why would he get it? Kirishima’s got the same brainwaves as a goldfish, and he’s only frying the rest of his intelligence with each impact his thick skull makes with the dirt.
“ Tch,” Is all Katsuki can say. He’s not even sure how he ended up friends with the shitty-haired boy in the first place.
Their parents knew each other. One day they’d come together to do dinner and old people shit, and the Kirishimas brought their oversized bull of a child, who had then proceeded to lumber around Katsuki’s room like an idiot for the entire night. He’d even commented on his All Might collectables, as if it were something weird, and not something insanely valuable and cool as shit.
People paid a fuck ton for those things, okay? The All Might cinematic universe was a goddamn masterpiece, with the exception of the second film, but that could be overlooked.
Regardless of their differences, Kirishima had still bounded up to him at school the next day, acting like they were best friends. Katsuki hadn’t found a way to shake him off yet.
Besides, it was senior year now. There was no way in hell Kirishima would get into Yuuei University alongside him, considering they didn’t take pity enrollments, so Katsuki figured he could withstand the jock for a few more months.
Just a few more months of school, a few more months of Kirishima, and then his valedictorian speech, followed by his chemical engineering degree, and finally him winning his Nobel Prize for making some cool-ass discovery in nuclear fission.
It’d only been his plan for the last ten years of his life.
But, of course, there were some unforeseeable bumps in the road, courtesy of the most annoying person he’d ever met.
-----------------
“You ever wear more than just black shirts, man?” Kirishima asks, that stupid, puppy-dog look on his face.
“Shut up.” Katsuki snaps back, crossing his arms over his chest. Black shirts look fucking great on him, because he keeps his body just as sharp as his mind, thank you very much, and he’s smart enough to monopolize on that fact.
All Kirishima wears are glaring letter jackets with patches for all his years in rugby, as if he couldn’t find anything better to scream I’m gonna peak in high school!
Katsuki still pulls on a flannel over his signature black tee, but it’s only because the fall evening is chilly.
It doesn’t matter- he’s going to stay an hour, tops, and then ditch Kirishima.
“I’m leaving by 11.” Katsuki says, pulling out of Kirishima’s driveway, fingers pressed hard into the steering wheel. He’s nice enough to give a warning, at least.
“Come on,” Kirishima whines, throwing his head back in disagreement. The car shakes a little, pushed by the jerky movements in the passenger seat.
“Stop being a fucking child.” Katsuki snaps, grinding his teeth as he pulls onto the main street.
“The deal was that I cover for you, and you come to one party before we graduate.” The redhead says, throwing a finger in Katsuki’s direction. He slaps it away with a pop.
“There were no terms that said I had to stay long.” He argues. “Shoulda thought a little harder about that, huh?”
“You know I wouldn’t think of that.” Kirishima sighs. He’s got some paper back shoved between his legs, and every turn the car makes has the contents clinking together.
“You’re lucky I’m staying an hour and not five minutes.” Katsuki says, temper dulled a bit. He’s starting to get that small bit of uneasiness in him, the one he wants to constantly fight. It’s stupid, really, getting nervous about being around a bunch of fucking idiots, drinking cheap beer and acting like they’re hot shit, but he does, anyways.
“Fine, but if you change your mind, just let me know, okay?” Kirishima says, breaking him from his thoughts.
“Fat chance.” Katsuki huffs, as Kirishima says ,”This turn right here.”
They pull into the plains and hills of upper-middle-class suburbia, suddenly surrounded by well-trimmed hedges, white-collar office jobs, and the watchful eye of homeowner associations.
The house at the end of the street stands in stark contrast to the neighborhood- there’s got to be at least twenty cars parked in the driveway, in the street, even on the manicured lawn. There’s some girls running around said yard in skimpy bikinis, shrieking as they’re chased by a jock. There’s a few loners on the porch, smoking something that Katsuki is sincerely doubting are cigarettes. There’s even someone climbing onto the roof from the third floor balcony, a few friends leaning out the window to cheer them on.
“Oh, fuck this.” Katsuki says, pulling to the side of the street. A water balloon pelts his car, and he shouts a few curses at the jock, who pointedly ignores him. Kirishima apologizes profusely.
“This is getting shut down within the hour. I ain’t getting shit on my record before Yuuei.” He continues, shaking his head. That nervous feeling before was a fucking premonition, alright.
“Oh, nah. This is nothing.” Kirishima says, laughing a little. “You should’ve seen what happened at Yoarashi’s party last summer-”
“You don’t get it, idiot. I get something on my record, Yuuei won’t want me.” Katsuki seethes.
“Dude, this is Mirio’s house. Cops love Mirio.” Kirishima shoots back. “At one of his parties last year, someone set off fireworks in his neighbor’s yard and when the cops came they had a beer with him. This is nothing, man.”
Katsuki wanted to argue, to turn the car back around and tell Kirishima to shove his excuses up his ass.
But then he thought of Yuuei, and of all the studying he’d have to do to be the best chemical engineer in the world. He’d pulled a few all-nighters here and there, yeah, but that would be a whole other ballpark, a whole other game.
There sure as shit wasn’t time for partying in that game.
“If the cops come, you’re taking the fall for me.” Katsuki says. He bites his tongue, hard, trying to keep up the bravado. It’s like some science experiment, right? He can’t possibly have an educated outlook on life if he doesn’t at least try one party in his youth.
That makes shutting the car door behind him a little easier.
The minute Kirishima drags him in the front door is the minute he begins to deflate, like some shitty little birthday balloon at the whims of a sugar-induced toddler rage.
This was a really bad idea.
It’s completely overwhelming inside- there’s lights flashing somewhere, coating the room in flashes of bright neon colors, and there’s music that’s too fucking loud, competing with the roar of the crowd. It’s like a goddamn nightmare to Katsuki.
Kirishima isn’t phased. If anything, he’s almost in his element, something Katsuki had only seen at the few rugby games he’d guilted him into viewing.
Stupid fucker.
“HEY, SERO!” Kirishima yells, and some lanky-ass boy is summoned from the crowd, appearing in one flash of the strobe lights. Katsuki’s seen him before, but only briefly- probably in one of the standard classes, if he had to guess. Maybe in Algebra, before they’d sorted Katsuki up into the advanced section.
“Hey, man.” Sero says, his voice a little too drawn out, a little too quiet for the music around him. His eyes are a little red, and Katsuki fights the urge to cover his mouth and nose. What if Yuuei drug tests him?
He’s pretty sure he’ll still pass just being around someone who smoked recently, right? It’s not something that he’d studied extensively, considering it wasn’t anything he’d ever been a part of, but now he’s wishing he would’ve done a few internet searches before he picked Kirishima up.
“Bakugou, right?” Sero says, nodding his head at him.
“Yeah.” Katsuki says, a bit nasally. He’s breathing through his mouth.
“I haven’t seen you here before.” He comments, nodding a little. Katsuki’s not sure if it’s to himself or to him and Katsuki. “It’s cool.”
“...Yeah.” Katsuki settles on.
“We’re gonna get a drink,” Kirishima yells over the music, practically right into Sero’s face, but the man just nods idly, sinking back in his own thoughts.
“That’s Sero,” The redhead yells at him as he makes a path through the bodies in the giant room. Katsuki follows as close as possible, dodging stray hands and elbows with a grimace.
“Yeah, I-”
“He’s on the swim team,” Kirishima interrupts, not hearing a thing. “Pretty good, actually, like a little fish-”
“KIRI!” A shrill voice yells, pulling Kirishima’s attention elsewhere.
From the back porch comes a girl Katsuki had seen a few times, some cheerleader or whatnot. All he knows is that she’s got a head of pink hair and she’s loud as fuck.
Kirishima gives the same happy yell in response, matching the girl’s energy perfectly. She’s wearing some skimpy little bikini, still dripping wet from the pool out back, and yet Kirishima still wraps his arms around her, swinging her around.
Katsuki almost wants to be irritated, because Kirishima is His Party Person, and it’s therefore his responsibility to lead him around and entertain him all night, but he also knows the redhead has been head over heels for some cheerleader for the past month. He’d bet his limited-edition Silver Age All Might figure that it’s Pinky.
But then there’s movement behind the couple, someone dodging their embrace and laughing with a happy, ringing sound, and Katsuki is frozen.
It’s the most annoying person he’d ever met.
Uraraka is in a similar bikini, some light pink thing that’s barely covering her, clinging to her body in its drenched state. It’s showing off her curvy form, displaying just how short and petite she is, but also the fact that her legs are muscled as shit and her ass looks like a goddamn peach, and suddenly Katsuki is mad.
You aren’t helping your ditzy cheerleader stereotype, Katsuki wants to snap at her, but he knows that’s shitty. It’s also misogynistic as hell, and he’s afraid his mother may have heard his thoughts from across town.
It just makes him mad, alright? He’s not sure why, but suddenly he’s pissed at seeing Uraraka in a swimsuit.
“Bakugou?” The devil speaks up, tilting her head to the side in a way that had her looking as innocent as possible. Her cheeks were round and pink, adding to that overall cherub look.
Fuckin’ snake.
“Yeah?” Katsuki snapped.
“You’re never here.” She laughed, as if his presence was something to be happy about.
“Well-” He started, defensively, before realizing there was nothing to argue about. “Yeah.”
“Uraraka, you didn’t tell me you knew Katsuki!” Kirishima chose then to speak up, as if he didn’t get Katsuki in this shit situation in the first place.
“Oh, we have Calculus III together.” She giggles.
Giggles. As if it’s cute.
“Wow, what a small world.” Kirishima sighs, clapping Katsuki on the back. It makes him jump, and he realizes he’s been staring too long at Uraraka. Stewing in his irritation, really.
“You want a beer, man?” He asks.
Yuuei wouldn’t know about a beer.
“Yeah.” Katsuki decides on, leaning on his trusty word-of-the-day.
“Grab me one too, will you?” Uraraka says, and she reaches out to touch his arm. Even over the flannel, it feels electric, and Katsuki instantly pulls it out of her touch.
Kirishima raises an eyebrow, but wisely chooses to head to the kitchen instead.
“I’m gonna fucking spit in it.” Katsuki scoffs, grabbing a beer from the cooler Kirishima had propped open. He was right in his earlier guess- it’s cheap, and he’s betting it’ll taste like moldy white bread.
“I don’t think she’d mind.” Kirishima says, and that makes Katsuki choke on his first sip.
“The fuck does that mean?” He snaps.
“C’mon, man. She seems a little into you.” His friend shrugs, as if it’s obvious.
“Bullshit.” Katsuki says, though his face is now on fire, heating up rapidly by the second. It must be the beer- the alcohol flush, right?
“I mean-” Kirishima starts, but the door to the kitchen swing open behind them.
“Oh- hey, guys.”
Izuku Midoriya- or Deku, as he’d dubbed him long ago- was the absolute last person he wanted to see come through that doorway, besides maybe his pink-cheeked, irritating girlfriend.
“‘Sup, Midoriya.” Kirishima says. He’s calm, much calmed than Katsuki would’ve imagined, considering they were talking about Deku’s girlfriend having a crush on another man.
Kirishima’s poker face was never this good. He’d cried while trying to lie in Monopoly just a few weeks ago.
“I was just getting some water.” Deku says, awkward as ever.
It is, admittedly, very awkward, even with Uraraka out of the equation. He and Deku had been close friends for all of their childhood, up until Deku had decided to pursue sports and Katsuki had decided to stay firmly focused on his academic interests. He wasn’t a bad guy, per se, but he was annoying as fuck- he was still pretty damn smart, and even worse, was the beloved star of the football team, and so of course Katsuki had to dislike him.
It’s why Deku and Uraraka were perfect for one another.
Deku leaves after a few more awkward seconds, a half-filled cup of water in his hands, and as soon as the door is swinging shut, Katsuki is snapping back at his friend.
“Dumbass- what if he would’ve heard you?” Katsuki growls.
“Uh, about what?” Kirishima asks, that dumb look on his face.
“His fuckin’ girlfriend!”
It’s quiet for a moment, and Katsuki can practically hear the gears turning in Kirishima’s head, grinding at one another and smoking horribly after years of disuse.
It must get to working at some point, because Kirishima gives a sharp oh.
“Dude,” He laughs, voice a little too loud, a little too obnoxious, and Katsuki winces. “Uraraka and Midoriya dated in like, freshman year. Four years ago. Besides, Deku’s gay. He’s dating some dude on the dance team.”
It’s silent for a very long moment.
“Oh.” Katsuki finally decides on.
It doesn’t change anything. Really, it doesn’t. Uraraka is still annoying as fuck, with her muscled thighs and stupid intelligence. It’s an awful combination, really.
Katsuki finishes his beer rather quickly after that.
---------------
“Where’s my beer?”
He’s camped out in the corner of the second floor, somewhere between the endless hallway of bedrooms and the huge outdoor balcony. It was too damn hard to tell exactly where he was going in the McMansion with all the damn strobe lights, so he’d picked a corner and stuck with it.
Katsuki had lost Kirishima long ago in the crowds, and had also decided two beers was enough for him, feeling a little uncomfortable with the light-headed, tipsy feeling they’d given him.
It was nearing eleven, after all.
“Get your own beer.” Katsuki shoots back. He doesn’t want to look at Uraraka, but he does anyways- he’s close enough to look down at her, and he realizes that she’s really fucking short.
In the hallways, in the classroom, in the cheerleading huddle, she looks massive- not in some weird, giant way, but in her fucking persona. She just fills every room she walks into, and sometimes Katsuki doesn’t want to feel like he’s suffocating.
But she’s tiny here, just barely skimming the tops of his shoulders. He’s a little proud of his commitment to his workouts, too, because he can feel her eyes roving over his chest, roving over his signature black shirt.
But it doesn’t matter, because it’s annoying Uraraka.
“I mean, I did, eventually.” She says, grinning up at him. It makes his stomach do weird things, because her lashes are long and her lips are very red.
It’s a biological thing. He can’t control it, okay?
“Cool.” Katsuki says, hoping he sounds indifferent and cold.
He doesn’t. His voice shakes a little.
“So, Kirishima dragged you here, right?” Uraraka says. She licks her lips, and suddenly he hates her a little more.
“Yeah.” Katsuki responds.
“Wow, what you’d do to deserve that?” She laughs. “I figured you’d be working on next month’s homework or something.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” He snaps. Maybe he’s a bit of a nerd, by textbook definition only, but he’s not some fucking suck-up. If it didn’t directly get him into Yuuei, he wasn’t about to do it.
“I mean, you’re so smart, you probably don’t have to.”
The words stay between them for a second, and Katsuki blinks into the strobe lights dancing across the balcony doors.
Was she flirting with him?
No, surely not. She was so calm, so cool and smooth with it. Surely she was just being nice. Maybe to make him do her calculus homework?
No. Uraraka was at the top of their calculus course, just like him. She didn’t need him to do her homework.
“Whatcha thinking about?” Uraraka breaks his train of thought, and he frowns, because that was rude of her. He felt like he was in the middle of a complicated problem, one he was getting close to solving, and she had to break his resolve.
“Homework.” He lies.
“C’mon, Katsuki.” Uraraka says, and his name on her lips shoots lightning through him, electricity that settles down in his bones, shooting towards a place he’d rather ignore. “Can’t you let loose a little?”
He doesn’t know the correct response to that. There’s no book out there that tells him how to respond to Uraraka, and that frustrates him even more.
“Hey,” She says, suddenly a bit quieter, a bit more vulnerable. There’s that hand touching him again, just below his elbow, but he doesn’t pull away this time.
“Do you trust me?” Uraraka says, looking up at him through those long lashes again.
“Yes,” He says, instantly, even though he really wants to say fuck no. He thinks she must have some ulterior motive, something up her sleeve, but his mind is a little too mushy to think through the possibilities at the moment.
There won’t be time for this at Yuuei, he tells himself, and so he follows her.
As soon as the bathroom door is shut behind them, Uraraka is on him.
Her soft, too-red lips are on his, moving against him, all soft and buttery, and his mind isn’t working, and neither is his body. For a moment, it’s like he’s stuck in time, paralyzed and unable to react.
Uraraka pulls back for a moment, and he sees the first sign of uneasiness, of questioning, on her normally-confident features.
There won’t be time for this at Yuuei.
Katsuki’s never kissed anyone before, so of course he’s a sloppy mess when he yanks her back to his face.
Uraraka makes a quiet umph against his lips, not expecting the bruising kiss, but she goes along for it a minute later, and he lets her take the lead again. He’s not sure what he’d imagined kissing to be like, but it wasn’t anything like this- he feels it in his fucking toes , like it’s electricity or some shit, and he doesn’t know how Uraraka’s teeth sinking into his bottom lip translates into shockwaves down his spine.
It doesn’t make sense, but he’s fucking drunk on it.
He’s grateful she knows the way. His hands are on her shoulders, awkward and tentative, but she moves them around, pushing them into the soft curves of her hips.
Katsuki squeezes, just a little, marveling at how they wrap around a good portion of the rounded curves, and Uraraka moans into his mouth.
Oh.
It’s even worse when she pushes him back against the door and presses herself against him, molding against his skin like she’s a puzzle piece. There’s a bit of friction against the tight front of his jeans and the soft skin of her stomach, and he can’t help the embarrassed stutter his hips make.
“It’s okay,” Uraraka whispers against his lips, and suddenly his brain is stuttering, too.
She breaks their kiss and he leans forward, trying to start anew, but Uraraka takes another step back, pulling herself on top of the counter with a small hop.
Ochako Uraraka is in front of him, sitting on one of Mirio’s many bathroom counters, flanked by smell soaps and a seashell-shaped sink. He doesn’t think she’s ever looked more enticing.
He doesn’t have enough sanity left in him to be mad at that fact.
It only worsens when she reaches behind her to untie the tiny little straps of her top.
Katsuki holds his breath, and they fall, but they’re quickly stopped by her hands, pressing the cups of the bikini bra into her chest.
“Is this okay?” Uraraka asks, but there’s a small tilt to her kiss-bruised lips, a light tease in her voice.
Katsuki nods.
The top falls, and Katsuki studies.
Truthfully, he was supposed to study for his physics midterm on Thursday, but he’s thanking whatever gods exist that he’s now studying the little pebbles around Uraraka’s nipples, the delicate blush color on her breasts.
He’s been staring too long, perhaps, because she reaches over and takes his hand, presses it lightly to her chest, curls his fingers around the curve.
He does a bit of hands-on studying, one that has his breath stuck in his throat and his jeans entirely too tight, and when his fingers lightly tug a nipple and Uraraka makes a breathy whine he thinks that he’s wanting to fucking ace this exam.
She’s kissing him again, but this time it’s brief, and he realizes she’s turning him around, pushing his back against the hard marble of the sink.
And Uraraka is leaning down, down, down, until her knees hit the floor, and Katsuki thinks that the whole short-circuiting earlier was nothing. It was child’s play compared to the shock he feels now.
She’s unbuttoning his pants, looking up at him with those big, huge brown eyes, her cheeks a ruddy pink now, her lips slightly agape.
“Can I?” Uraraka asks, voice a little high, breathy, and he realizes he’s having an effect on her, too, and that does strange things to his chest.
“Please?” She adds, and that’s the word that has him tumbling into his words.
“Yes, yes-” Katsuki stutters. “Yes, please. God.”
When her little hands press against the front of his boxers, testing the waters, Katsuki throws his head back and whines.
It’s not his proudest moment.
“Still okay?” Uraraka asks, but it’s that same teasing tone as before.
“Yes, it’s fucking okay,” Katsuki seethes to the ceiling.
Her hands are smooth against him, enough where his heart’s stuttering in his chest. They move over him, and he can’t look down, he can’t- he just watches the ceiling, counts the paint errors on the crown moulding.
He runs out of errors when he feels her lips, feels the hot breath and the flick of her tongue, so he starts thinking about the windows in Mirio’s house, tries to estimate how many rooms he must have in such a large estate.
It doesn’t work, especially when Katsuki looks down at Uraraka, when he sees her struggling to move her mouth down him, her cheeks full and her eyes looking at him with nothing more than fucking adoration, and he comes down her throat with a strangled mixture of a groan and a cry, his vision going dark around the edges.
When he comes to, he’s breathing hard, one hand gripping into the marble counter behind him, the other tangled in Uraraka’s hair. He doesn’t remember putting it there, but it’s wrapped into the brunette strands, and he idly thinks it’s soft, entirely too soft.
But then he’s focusing on the little hushed sounds coming from Uraraka’s mouth, the deep red on her cheeks, and he sees one hand working in her bathing suit bottoms, a wet sound that sends a shock of arousal back down his body.
Fuck, he can’t go again, but he’ll remember this for weeks. Months, maybe, perhaps even into Yuuei.
Katsuki’s not sure how to help, feeling embarrassed in his inexperience but also desperate to see her reach a peak, and so he folds his hands back over her breasts, just like she’d taught him, and mimics that same move that had made her gasp before. He presses his lips back into hers, greedily swallowing down her gasps.
The reaction is instantaneous- there’s a small cry from her lips, breaking away from him, and then her hips are rocking forward, chasing her release, her muscled thighs bracing themselves against the tile floor.
It’s the hottest thing Katsuki had ever seen.
“Fuck,” He croaks, his hand cupping her head, stroking a thumb over her cheek. It seems a bit too knowing, a bit too intimate, but he can’t stop himself.
She’s gasping, looking back up at him with half-lidded eyes, and she moves her mouth to press a little kiss into his palm.
He hisses at it, suddenly annoyed by how fucking cute she is despite being on her knees, just having sucked his dick in a stranger’s bathroom.
She’s fucking annoying, Ochako Uraraka.
--------------------------------
It’s a while later. A while after driving Kirishima home. A while after his Thursday physics test. A while after his Yuuei acceptance, a while after his valedictorian speech. A while after Yuuei, even.
Ochako’s poking at him. He’s pretending to sleep.
“I know you’re awake.” She whispers into his ear, knowing that will make goosebumps ignite over his arms. He tries to hide it.
She doesn’t take that as an answer, instead rolling over onto him, locking him firmly between those familiar, muscled thighs.
“ Katsuki,” She sings, finger poking at his face yet again.
“What?” He finally growls, though he refuses to open his eyes. He’s fucking tired, okay? Being a chemical engineer was not nearly as easy as he’d expected, though he’s confident he’s still well on his way to his Nobel Prize.
“It’s still my birthday.” Ochako pouts, her voice a slightly dejected, sad thing, and it’s like some puppy, really. He can’t say no to a fucking puppy, though it’s an astrophysicist on his lap and definitely not some runaway mutt.
Katsuki groans anyways, making his displeasure known.
“You’re so fucking annoying.” He grumbles, though he opens his eyes anyways, taking in the sight of her pressed against him, still bathed in the dim lights from streetlamps from outside. She leans down to meet him, dipping in and out of the streams of golden light.
“I know.” Ochako whispers, pressing a grin against his lips.