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For Izuku, it had always been Kacchan, you and him. Kacchan on his own, and you and him behind him. Together, but somehow separate from him.
Kacchan had been a pillar for the both of you, a natural leader. Such a bright, out-going and smart child only allowed for the two little introverts to stay hidden in his shadow. He could outshine whoever presented themselves in front of him, so much so that he would even put the other’s light out if he had to. He was powerful like that.
As the three of you grew up, Kacchan’s brilliance grew even brighter. To both of your eyes, there was no one else that could surpass him and he knew that, too. He was ambitious and self-confident, skilled to inhuman levels and incredibly gorgeous. He had what was necessary to back up his boasting confidence and every single day it grew stronger as did the rest of himself.
He was the embodiment of perfection. The freckled boy and the incredibly shy girl had always been looking up to him and would always be doing the same despite his foul-mouth, his rough treatment and his often threatening behaviour. Kacchan was everything you'd always wanted to be and would most likely never be. By the time you were in middle school, Kacchan’s future was set in stone, and, no matter how hard any of you tried to be a part of his plans, you simply weren’t and he would never allow you to be.
Izuku and you shared the same kind of eyes: big, tearful and jittery with anxiety. Everyone could see the fear behind them, but only one another noticed how that fear morphed into admiration and something else the more you grew. Whenever you weren't looking at Kacchan you were looking at each other. He knew all the telltale signs you gave away; like when he had to look for spiky hair in the crowd every time your eyes got that special gloss over them. He never questioned the longing behind your eyes. And how could he when his eyes mirrored yours? He yearned for him just as much as you did. You were equals. Always had and would always be.
On the other hand, Izuku himself stared plenty at others. It went without saying that his main focus had always been Kacchan, but ever since you started high school (following the blond despite all his warnings against it), his eyes started wandering your way much more often and for much longer than before.
For him, you had always been a sight to behold. However, no one could deny that prior to puberty, all that could differentiate a girl from a boy at first glance was the length of their hair. He’d known, of course, that you were a girl all along, but he wasn’t being constantly reminded of the fact as when you started filling out your uniform at the top and bottom and your shape started widening at the hips. The new addition made it all the more interesting for him to look your way and pay attention to you.
It took him some time to realize that his recent gawking was veiled with something more than curiosity of how the new outfit suited you (although there was plenty of that, too). His sudden interest made him lose sight of Kacchan for a while, his features seeming too blunt and rough next to your renowned softness and overpowering femininity. Even himself was buffing up quite a bit from all his training, and it only made him appreciate the plushness of your curves more intently. His green orbs had become so focused on your form that he failed to notice how Kacchan’s had also taken a liking to you.
In any other situation, he would have realized instantly. Kacchan had never spared a glance your way. If Izuku had entered his radar, it was only because he was nosy and loud; always ready with a compliment on his abilities that drove him insane. But you… You were nothing more than a shadow to that pathetic green mess. Always behind him. Always too quiet. You were clearly the listener of the pair.
Thus, it came as a surprise when Izuku saw him approach you one day, expression strangely mild and an oddly approachable attitude, ready to profess his attraction to you. It was an even bigger surprise when you flat-out rejected him. His friend was equally as surprised, but above all: offended. He knew he was fucking handsome, more mature and intelligent than the rest of other extras in your class and that you were always looking at him. Still, as you later told Izuku, you couldn’t accept his confession after all he’d done and said to the both of you.
After the scene, where Kacchan ended up spitting some slur your way before stomping away seemingly fuming, you’d returned to the side of the freckled boy you always followed around as soon as you spotted him. He saw the mixed emotions manifesting in your face, contorting your features as your mind raced over the pride and regret of what you’d just done. For once, although short-lived, Izuku reckoned the possibility that Kacchan might have not been as perfect as he’d always thought.
After that, for the green-haired boy’s convenience, everything went uphill for the two of you. You shyly accepted his sudden advances (in fear that someone else would be inspired by Kacchan’s confession) and started slowly reciprocating them. Little by little, childhood friends turned into something else.
Your friendship had evolved into a romantic relationship before you even knew it, but in such a natural and cohesive way that none flinched when you shared your first kiss. It felt just right to do it that one summer afternoon after you’d finished a long biology project, so tired yet proud of the work both of you nerds had done despite the scorching heat. It was a sort of celebration after such hard work and it was just so innocent and pure; a little intimate gesture of both gratitude and appreciation at each other’s effort and unwavering company.
It only ever got awkward after his mum caught the two of you making out in his room some time after that, when you had already forgotten about that assignment and were making some research on each other’s anatomy instead. After that, she didn’t let you be in his room unless you left the door open.
Despite the awkwardness that arose having to relabel your relationship, your love flourished unstopped. Izuku was absolutely, utterly in love with you. You were his princess, queen, owner, goddess and whatever other title that could begin to express the superiority of your being to him.
You’d been dating for quite a few years already, officializing right after you’d left school, and you were more than happy together. You were the perfect match, so similar in most aspects yet complementing each other on those which differed.
Somehow financially stable, the two of you were planning on starting a family together soon. He wanted to repay everything you’d given him so you’d never regret choosing him as your partner, and he knew one of your wishes was to be a mum. He was absolutely ready to be a dad, too, but also had his own concerns about it. Knowing his family history, how hard his mum had tried to conceive and how many health issues he’d had as a child, he worried that he might not live up to par.
His worries had begun to worsen a few months ago. Ever so anxious, he’d wanted to speed up the process and get ahead on work. He knew how much you wanted a baby and, despite your half-hearted protests of it being too soon, he began insisting on trying for one. His main motivation was fulfilling your wish, but, honestly, he’d always wanted to feel you raw, too.
You’d always been extremely careful around sex. Protection had always been a must, not out of mistrust, as you’d been each other’s firsts and onlys, but out of caution. After all, you were too young when you started going out and you didn’t actually feel ready to have a child. So when he relentlessly begged for you to let him come inside you and you finally caved in in the heat of the moment, he’d expected for the pregnancy to catch immediately, for it to be as magical and perfect like the rest of your relationship had been.
It broke something in him to realize that it hadn’t. He’d been hopeful, confident even that you were pregnant. So much so that, after that first time, you’d had stopped wearing condoms altogether, because, what was the point of wearing them when you were soon to be pregnant, right?
Wrong.
As the months started passing by, he became more and more desperate waiting for the damned second blue line to show up on your pregnancy tests. Time and time again, the results came up the same way as the previous ones. The lone blue line mocked him and his hopelessness.
Just like that, a whole year passed and still there was no sign of a baby. The only signs that started arising during that time were instability and depression. At first, none of you worried much, too focused on the incredible sex you were having together now that he was rediscovering your pussy without any barriers and he could fill you up with his come to top it off. However, when all the effort you had been putting in bed didn’t change the circumstances in your womb, something in your relationship shifted for the worse.
On the one hand, Izuku felt useless and irritable, so unlike himself that he’d sometimes take his frustrations out on you. On you of all people! You, who were the only to ever have faith in him and to keep staying by his side despite being a pathetic loser of a nerd.
On the other hand, you started feeling guilty for not being able to give him a child. Given that it was your dream to begin with, seeing him so affected by the whole situation made you overly sensitive and responsible for it.
Of course, he knew how you felt and, at the same time, he blamed himself for it even more. After all, it was his fault. His faulty genes were making it impossible for you to get pregnant and he should have known that before getting your hopes up. One simple look at his tiny family and your prolific one should have been enough. You were blessed with a handful of beautiful siblings (of which you were undoubtedly the most beautiful of all!), whereas his mum had barely managed to bear him with all his limitations. He felt ridiculous for having ever worried about problems in your pregnancy. There would have to be a pregnancy for it to have any problems in the first place.
It was amidst all that turbulence of emotions that you received an invitation from a former classmate, Momo, asking you and your partner to come to have dinner and a few drinks with the rest of the people you used to study with. Initially, the idea seemed like a bore, having no actual interest in people you hadn’t seen in over a decade, but considering how strained the situation was at home and how Izuku’s eyes lit up at the mention of his dear classmates, you had to make amends with the idea of it.
Truthfully, you hadn’t expected to see him so excited, but he was thriving to see his old friends again. You paid attention to his face as he yapped tons of different questions to his closest friends of that time. He kept asking and asking the same questions with little variants to every single one of them, appearing overtly interested in catching up with them.
He was relieved to notice how, from all the little couples that had formed in the class, only yours had persevered throughout the years. He was especially happy to receive their jealous looks and wore your thigh on top of his with pride. He’d got in such a good mood thanks to their responses and the booze that he was feeling rather bold and playful. Every now and then he would squeeze or pinch the supple skin below your skirt just to gauge their reactions, and because he loved seeing you all flustered.
It didn’t matter to him how well-off some of them were, how important their jobs looked nor how many vehicles they had. As corny as it could sound, his biggest success in life was having you next to him. Despite that, he kept asking and listening to their different stories of growth and playing around. He heard with faked attention the retelling of Sero’s body count, about Todoroki’s life abroad, and Iida’s endless studies and professionalization.
As he heard their life stories for the last ten years, he mentally pinpointed everyone’s appearance. An air of maturity lurked over the whole lot. However, as usual, his attention centered around a certain grumpy blond, who didn’t look as grumpy as before and that was certainly making him more handsome. This time, Izuku didn’t miss his eyes lingering on your naked legs or your modestly exposed collarbone.
While he kept innocently digging in his classmates’ past and future, a topic of actual interest popped up unprompted: children. Being a bunch of people pushing 30, it wasn’t an odd matter to discuss and still you tensed a bit by his side. It was a bit odd, though, that he found it shamelessly satisfying that absolutely none of them had had any kids. Not a single one of them had nor were planning to. He envied their nonchalance on the topic to a certain point, but revelled in the fact that they hadn't known that kind of happiness before him.
With that awfully reassuring thought in mind, he allowed himself to have a few more drinks than he should have and to brag about how you’d both become teachers, that you'd lived together for years and how happy you were in each other’s company. In his head, no other accomplishment compared to being with you. He enjoyed how shallow and pointless everyone's lives seemed in contrast to his. Not even Kacchan could fathom feeling like him, despite all his perfection and potential.
It seemed like Kacchan was having the same thought. Izuku simply observed how he kept following your every movement, how his eyes trailed after you when you left for the toilet or how they zoned out on your lips whenever you drank from your glass and some residue of the liquid got them damp.
That's why, when the three of you were reunited in that lame class reunion where everyone was trying to save face and appear more interesting than they were, he overlooked Kacchan’s rudeness and even sympathized with him. If things had been different back in high school, he himself would be in his friend’s place instead, bitter and envious of what you two had.
It was that same empathy that gave him the little push to offer help when he saw that Kacchan was wasted. He was aware that they weren’t that friendly anymore, but Kirishima, one of Kacchan’s closest friends, was just as out of it as him. Then again, at least Kaminari and some of the others knew his address to take him home. Kacchan, on the other hand, was too private to have told anyone else his and so, he very kindly offered to take him home with you despite how hard you were pinching the softer skin on his triceps.
It wasn't his fault that the blond couldn't talk properly to tell you his address no matter how many times you tried asking him. It wasn't his fault either that he himself was rather drunk and couldn’t really carry him (nor himself) far enough to take him to his place, and now you were stuck with two drunkards who weren’t being of any help while you tried opening the door to your shared apartment.
“Ugh, Izuku, I swear to God,” you huffed and puffed as he leaned on you with Kacchan’s added weight. “You should’ve just let Iida be responsible for him. You’re clearly too drunk for this!”
“Sorry, baby,” he slurred. “I’m just a little dizzy.” He rubbed his freckled cheek against your hair. “I'll take Kacchan home in the morning.” He kissed your head.
“Stop that.”
“Hmm? Can’t kiss you?” He pouted and rubbed his cheek against you a bit harder.
“No! God, you should really stop calling him that. It sounds ridiculous at your age.” You seethed as you managed to open the door and pushed him and the limp Kacchan inside.
You’d been over that matter countless times. Whenever the ‘Kacchan’ topic came around, you’d end up mad and frustrated at his refusal to stop. You’d only wanted to save him the public embarrassment of using such a childish nickname with someone who didn’t want anything to do with him and most certainly had never even considered him a friend to begin with. When would he understand that you couldn’t simply get all that chummy with someone who’d told you to jump off a window?
Izuku was simply adamant on keeping using that name for the rest of his life, even if you had long since resorted to calling him just ‘Bakugou’ like the rest of your past classmates, which sounded awfully distant for his liking, and not at all appropriate for such a far back-dating friendship! Besides, children often said pretty awful stuff that they didn’t actually mean. The past was in the past.
As usual, he didn’t regard your request, quickly turning your mood sour.
“Take care of him on your own then. I’m going to sleep.” Without further speech, you went to bed, leaving drunk and drunker in the living room to their own devices.
Your boyfriend knew better than to tail after you, so he dropped Kacchan on the sofa and sat down on the empty armchair to take an uncomfortable nap until the sun rose. The position was so awkward despite the chair being well-padded that his neck was getting sore easily and he could only doze off for some time before waking up to rearrange himself on the piece of furniture.
It was between one of those several naps that he woke up to find Kacchan missing from the couch. He heard some rattling in the bathroom and he cursed internally at the predicament of possible puke. You’d be pissed if you found out that he’d vomited there and he’d had to get ready for an earful if he didn’t get up early enough to clean the mess there before you saw it.
The next time he woke up, his friend was still missing. Fearing that he’d passed out in the tiled room, he made his way there, careful not to make too much noise so as not to wake you up. He didn’t reach the bathroom door, though.
From the other side of the short corridor, he could see the open door and the lights off. The next thing he noticed was the door of the bedroom you shared slightly ajar. You’d closed it when you’d entered, leaving him out. He’d seen that clearly in spite of his drunkenness.
He was worried that Kacchan might have decided it was a good idea to sleep in bed next to you and wouldn’t have liked to wait until you woke up and found the plastered guy passed out by your side. He got a bit more worried when he remembered how you normally dressed to sleep.
He took a few steps to the bedroom and stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he heard some mumbling. A chill ran down his spine at the first thought that popped up in his mind.
“Shut the fuck up!” a male voice that he would have recognized anywhere whisper-shouted inside the dark bedroom. The sound was crisp although the words were barely intelligible, clearly affected by his intoxication and much louder than he had intended, but given the context, as quiet as he could manage.
“Bakugou, please, stop. He is right outside, you’ll wake him up and this won’t end up nicely. Please, you’re too drunk. You should go back to sleep, please.” He could hear your tears without needing to see them.
Your voice was rushed and worried, much quieter than it should be. Knowing you, your wet eyes would surely be darting around the room as you went through all the different things you could say to deter him and all the possible scenarios that would unfold if you couldn’t.
Kacchan couldn’t see that despite being just in front of you. He’d never bothered to know you enough to discern those signs. For him and his current state, you were just playing too hard to get. His memories were stained by the liquor he’d taken back then, where he’d locked eyes with you and you’d shyly averted them, when you’d perched your leg on top of your boyfriend just to give a glimpse of your milky thighs. Even now, you had deliberately gone to sleep in just some lacy panties, all ready for him. Fucking slut.
Outside, Izuku remained frozen. He finally took a step forward when he heard you moan out in pain, more out of instinct than anything, only to halt when he heard Kacchan’s deep, raspy groan.
“Shit, don’t make this difficult. We need to hurry up!” the blond snarled, losing his patience and putting more pressure on your shoulder than he would have, had he been sober. You whined again.
Izuku knew he should interfere, he had to , but he was being held back by the love and appreciation he felt for both of you, by the memories the three of you had shared throughout your entire childhood. It would be an absolute mess if he went inside the room. Things would get nasty and he wouldn’t be able to play it down if he opened the door. There was just as much to lose if he acted as if he didn’t.
He stayed there, paralyzed, chest heaving as he listened to the smacking of Kacchan’s lips trying to force yours into a kiss. He should have done something when he heard a hiss from the man followed by a sharp spank (which he hoped hadn’t landed near your face), paired with a high-pitched muted cry of yours and some creaking from the bedframe as you were shoved around.
By the time he was about to push the door open it was too late. He’d been too in his head, too scared to react sooner, but he needed nothing more than Kacchan’s satisfied groan and a broken sob from you to realize it was already too late.
Your sounds of protest sounded muffled now, but they were even more persistent than before. A weird feeling stirring up his chest and pants, he took notice of how they came across awfully similar to the ones you made when he first insisted on not wearing a condom, a mere facade that gave him some allowance to keep pushing, lacking that firmness that would’ve made him stop. Not like Kacchan would have stopped anyway.
Still, up until that moment, he hadn’t dared to open the door separating him from the passionate display, but he was close. Before he knew he was perched on the door frame, one hand ghosting over the wooden material of the door, the other one on the wall for some balance. Even from there, he could inhale the mingling scents of the people inside.
It was the obnoxious and shameless noise of skin violently slapping against skin that gave him the courage to push the door enough to peek inside. He was greeted by Kacchan’s pale back in all its glory, surrounded by darkness and looking even whiter under the vast moonlight piercing the translucent curtains. He was wide and rippled in all the right places, chiseling into the tiniest waist pounding you fiercely from the back.
The sound was obscene on its own, but the view was even worse. The man was sweating profusely. His bodily fluids dripped down his hairline and the dips between his toned muscles, descending quickly down his upper arms until drops fell off his elbows like a badly closed tap. Whatever wasn’t being soaked up in the bed sheets was pooling between your bodies, amplifying the sound and making the whole scene even raunchier.
It looked nothing like as when you two had sex. All of it looked rawer, more extreme and primal; animalistic. Next to that beast, he seemed more childish and experimental, not better off than a teenager learning how to put it in, even with years of experience in your body.
Every movement of Kacchan showed a certain finesse, a fixed purpose and intention behind each thrust, behind each firm slap, behind the intensity of his every action. Such prowess was expected only of a man like him; a proper man, not the sorry excuse of a man Izuku was.
He seemed to be doing wonders, too. Even with your face buried in the pillow, some of your gasps could be heard. Unlike when you were with him, they sounded less sweet, less performative. They were crude, coming right from the pit of your stomach. Unplanned. Real.
Something close to jealousy panged in his chest.
He couldn’t make out where your bodies met from his position near the floor (he never realized he was on his knees until he was craning his neck to get a better view, in a way that still allowed him to palm himself through his pants and hold himself against the doorframe), but he was flashed with Kacchan’s heavy balls when he bent down to litter some open mouthed kisses along your back and to push your head deeper onto the pillows. He couldn’t see much beyond that, the blond’s jeans concealed most of his lower body and yours, as he’d just pulled them down enough to take his dick out, limiting his movements some but not really affecting his overall performance.
A plethora of curses and insults left his lips as the man in your bedroom started losing rhythm of his hips. He didn’t care about you nor the man listening in behind the door. He was being as loud and obnoxious as ever. The snapping of his hips in tempo with the creaking of the bed were the loudest noises in the whole place. If he hadn’t been already peeping there, Izuku would have surely woken up after all that ruckus.
Nothing mattered for him at that moment, only chasing the pleasure building up inside and the tight, fluttering walls deliciously wrapped around his cock. Each thrust of his was powered by brute force, pushing you closer and closer to the headboard. The only thing stopping you from the head-on collision was the fierce grip of his hands on the tender flesh around your hips, which he pulled up constantly to meet the push of his.
Beneath him, your moans were drowned out by the cottony material cutting your breath as you buried your nails on the mattress and Bakugou’s forearms. Thankfully so. Otherwise, your partner outside would have been notified quite explicitly of your latter ventures.
Little did you know that he had already found out about them and he was quite enjoying them. Even then, saying that he was quite enjoying them was an understatement. Izuku was all but coming in his still buttoned pants while he watched Kacchan bury his cock to the hilt inside you, pumping his come deep in your cunt while his balls spasmed at your entrance.
He should have been angry, jealous, protective of you. However, as he saw the scene playing in front of him he felt a treacherous spark of hope; hope that you’d finally had a fitting partner and hope that this time it would work.
The following morning, he didn't question your blank stare and your puffy eyes. He didn’t ask where Kacchan had gone or why you’d changed the sheets so soon. He’d simply gone to you as soon as he’d woken up and planted the most sickenly sweet, loving kiss to your mouth.
He didn’t question it either when he found you in the bathroom a month or so later. He ignored the frightened look on your face, the pure terror behind your wide eyes. He was too focused on the beautiful pair of blue lines decorating the cheap pregnancy test you were uselessly trying to hide from him behind your back.