This fic is saved in my docs as "Nailed in the Butt by my Childhood Bully Victim and a Metric Fuck Ton of Chronic"

That's a pretty good summary.

BkDk, CW for copious amounts of pot, Dom Izuku, and super duper stoned sex :)

"Get that shit out of my face," Bakugou spits, shoving Kaminari lightly on the chest when he tries to hand Bakugou a bong that Izuku thinks /might/ be impressive if he had any real metric to gauge bong size against.

"Come on, B!" Kaminari whines. "You gotta try it /sometime/."

"I don't want your shitty weed, Pikachu," Bakugou proclaims.

"It's 'Toshi's actually, and it's /really/ good--" Kaminari starts, but Shinsou cuts him off.

"He doesn't want it," he says with a slow, easy shrug that instantly puts everyone at ease. Then he turns to Izuku.

"Midoriya?"

All attention swings to Izuku, and he puts his hands up right away to wave them off, to tell them he's fine, except for some reason tonight feels different. They've offered him pot before.

Half the class likes to smoke, and since all of them except Bakugou like Izuku just fine, he's been around it plenty. He always declines though, just like Bakugou.

The main difference is, Kaminari and Co actually /want/ to get Bakugou to smoke, are convinced it'll help him /chill, man/, but no one ever really pushes Izuku. He's pretty sure Shinsou only asked him to be polite.

Izuku shrugs and says, "Sure! How do I do it?"

There is a sudden and violent uproar, everyone talking at once, and a few people reaching for Kaminari's bong like they want to show Izuku how to use it. Bakugou looks like he wants to hit Izuku on the mouth and Izuku can't help but offer him his best sheepish smile.

Todoroki ends up with Kaminari's bong, and Izuku misses how it actually happens, although he can guess. Todoroki always gets what he wants because he so rarely appears to want much of anything. He's the kind of person who speaks so infrequently, people listen when he does.

He probably just appeared at Kaminari's side and everyone else fell quiet one by one until the whole room is watching him with bated breath.

He gives Izuku a small, heart stuttering smile, and proceeds to take what Izuku knows is in fact an utterly massive bong rip (and he lights the bowl with his fingertip, the bastard). But he doesn't exhale.

He shoves the bong back at Kaminari, swoops forward, and breathes it all into Izuku's mouth while the whole class cheers, one hand slotted delicately under Izuku's chin.

Izuku blushes fiercely because he and Todoroki have a /thing/ and it's not really a secret, or exclusive, but it's not like they walk around /kissing in public,/ damn it.

The blush soon changes to a full-on flush however, when Izuku's lungs start to burn and he coughs all the smoke up in a thick cloud. Someone whistles. Shinsou pats him on the back and hands him a cup of water. Todoroki smiles at him which is exceedingly nice.

"/See/, Bakubro!" Kaminari says suddenly, swinging around. "Even Midoriya is doing it."

Izuku should be surprised when Bakugou snaps, “Give /me that/,” and snatches the bong from Kaminari’s hands. He should be surprised but he absolutely is not.

Bakugou is the most competitive person Izuku knows, and even now, he still can't help but try to prove that anything Izuku can do, Bakugou can do better.

He fits his lips to the mouth of the bong, lights it, and proceeds to pull on it until Shinsou finally speaks up.

"You're gonna hurt yourself--"

A split second later, Bakugou yanks the bowl from the slide and instantly turns bright red when the ridiculous white cloud of smoke he'd created rushes into his mouth.

He manages to hold his breath for a few beats, cheeks puffed out, eyes already streaming, before he starts coughing so hard Izuku is briefly afraid they might need to take him to a hospital.

A few people pound him on the back while he grumbles at them around his violent hacking, Izuku tries to give him water, which he won't accept until Uraraka gives it to him instead, and Shinsou very quietly packs the bong again and starts handing it around behind Bakugou's back.

When it comes to Izuku again, he hits it, even though the puff he took from Shouto made him light-headed and sort of slow in a way he isn't used to.

He tells himself he has no idea why he hits the bong again, except by this point Bakugou has finally caught his breath and he's crowing about smoking more than Izuku could ever handle.

And. Well.

Izuku is competitive too.

He hides it wells. He's always so friendly and supportive, most people don't realize how badly he wants to win just for the sake of winning.

And if Bakugou wants to turn this into something, Izuku has no problem showing Bakugou he's not that quirkless little kid anymore.

Generally, Bakugou knows that, but occasionally he needs Izuku to remind him.

This time, it's Izuku’s turn to cough so terribly he thinks his throat might be on fire.

He blows a thick cloud out into the air around him and tries to hide the way his lungs are spasming around the remnants of the sweet smoke, but he can't fight for long.

It makes him a little nauseated, makes his throat throb, but there's a pleasant, fuzzy buzz in his head now that makes the passage of time feel strange.

Izuku loses track of how many times, over the course of the next four hours, that the bong is put in his hands.

But he does notice that every time he smokes it, Bakugou insists on trying to smoke more. Bakugou is quieter than usual, aside from that, sitting alone on the couch, hands in fists on thighs, staring into space, or else at Izuku.

But every time Izuku smokes, he looks up and finds Bakugou watching him.

He tests it a few times and realizes that if he turns the pot down, Bakugou will too.

So he stops turning it down.

He's pretty sure if he keeps this up, he can watch Bakugou melt into the sofa and then blush about it in the morning. Izuku has always liked making Bakugou blush, even if he is secretly just a little vindictive about it.

It's just /nice/ knowing Bakugou isn't as indestructible as he wishes he was.

There is also the tiny issue of Izuku's quirk. He'd discovered about a year ago that no matter how much he drank he never seemed to get as drunk as his friends, and also that he /never/ got hungover.

It had taken some research, and some mental gymnastics but eventually Izuku figured out that One for All just made him metabolize /everything/ more quickly. It was why he ate enough for three men and was still never /quite/ full.

If the look on Bakugou's face, as compared to how Izuku /feels/, is any indication, it works for pot too.

Izuku is far from sober, but he can probably at least stand up straight. He isn't sure Bakugou can.

It takes a while, and Izuku doesn’t really remember much of /anything/ that happens over the next few hours, but eventually, he winds up alone next to Bakugou on the couch while Kaminari and Shinsou give them both slightly concerned looks.

Everyone else has cleared out, and Izuku would have left by now too if Bakugou hadn’t adamantly refused to move.

“Fuck you, I’m sleeping,” he shouts, not sounding the slightest bit tired.

Shinsou and Kaminari look at each other and then back at Izuku, and Shinsou says, “He can stay there, I guess?”

He sounds shocked, & Izuku is sure it's not because Shinsou & Kaminari actually have a problem with Bakugou crashing on their couch, but rather because for as long as they’ve known each other, Bakugou has /never/ gotten so shitfaced he didn’t eventually stomp off to his own bed.

“I’ll get him home,” Izuku says, fighting with equal parts resignation, guilt, and amusement. Bakugou keeps staring at Izuku like he wants to pick a fight but can’t muster the energy. His eyes are red, pupils blown fat in the dim light. Izuku has to fight not to stare back.

Bakugou is surprisingly quiet when they get out on the street. He walks slowly, shoulders slouching for once, hands in his pockets. Izuku hasn’t really spoken to him all night; he’s just sort of poked and prodded from a distance because he knew Bakugou was watching.

Bakugou is /always/ watching and Izuku is used to having entire conversations, or competitions, without either of them ever directly acknowledging the other is in the room. It’s a strange arrangement, but it works, mostly.

It makes their friends less anxious, less concerned that they’re constantly half a beat away from coming to blows. They’re not really like that anymore, but. Ghosts in the shadows and all that.

“I thought you didn’t smoke, Kacchan,” Izuku says when they are about halfway to Bakugou’s apartment.

Bakugou shrugs one shoulder sulkily instead of telling Izuku to fuck off. That’s actually a pretty good sign. A sign of /what/, he isn’t so sure, but whatever it is, it’s good.

“Thought you didn’t,” Bakugou says after a silent beat has passed.

“It seemed like fun to try!”

“Was it?”

“Sure. Are you okay?”

“Fuck you, I’m fine, nerd.” His words lack venom.

“It’s okay if you don’t like it,” Izuku says, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

Bakugou looks like he might argue, but then he takes a long, slow breath, shrugs his shoulders, and says, “Nah, it’s cool.”

Izuku has to fight not to turn to look at him. He’d just watched Katsuki start to fight and then just… give up. Just like that.

“Cool.”

“Yeah,” Bakugou says. He squints his eyes a little, and tilts his head back to look at the sky. All his joints seem looser than normal, his usually confident gait taking on a swaying sort of swagger that has Izuku… paying attention. Even more than he normally does.

“You didn’t have to walk me home,” he adds, a tiny hint of annoyance coming into his voice. “I’m a goddamn pro hero, nerd.”

Izuku hides a smile. “Not quite yet, we aren’t,” he teases.

Bakugou shrugs and grunts and waves Izuku off. “‘M fucking hungry.”

Izuku turns and looks at him, hiding a smile. He’s hungry too, but he’s always hungry. “It’s pretty late. What’s open around here?”

They pause in front of Bakugou’s apartment building and Bakugou takes a moment to fumble his keys out of his pockets.

“Fuck that, I got food,” he says, and then swings open the door. Izuku pauses in shock because it sounds a lot like Bakugou has just invited him in.

He grabs the door before it swings shut and looks after Bakugou as he stomps down the hall, hands in his pockets again.

He pauses before he rounds the corner and his eyes flick back to Izuku before he disappears.

So Izuku follows him, feeling a bit fuzzier than he had a few seconds earlier, a bit floatier.

It sort of feels like he’s walking through a dream and he realizes as he crosses the threshold into Bakugou’s apartment that he’s never actually been inside before.

He’s only ever been here with friends, and he’d stood in the hall or out on the sidewalk while Bakugou grabbed his coat and locked his door and they all went off to Kaminari and Shinsou’s, or Kirishima’s, or Todoroki’s place.

Bakugou lives in a studio apartment. It’s big for what it is, meticulously neat and tidy, with exposed brick along one wall and two big windows facing the street. There’s a loft, enclosed by a black metal railing and accessed with a bare, metal flight of stairs.

Izuku assumes Bakugou sleeps there because he doesn’t see a bed.

Bakugou toes his boots off by the door, motions jerky and violent like they always are.

He doesn’t take his hands out of his pockets and Izuku is struck by how /impressive/ that is, that Bakugou can kick those heavy combat boots off his feet without losing his balance or bending over. He shrugs out of his jacket next and wordlessly moves into the kitchen.

Izuku takes his shoes off and watches Bakugou’s back.

For a long moment, everything is quiet but for Bakugou starting to cook, and Izuku pulling out one of the cheap stools Bakugou has set up at his kitchen island and sitting down.

Bakugou puts a pan on the stove, starts taking things out of his refrigerator. Izuku doesn’t know what.

“You and Todoroki.”

Izuku almost jumps in his seat. “Uh. Yeah?”

“Fuck’s that.”

Izuku stares at Bakugou’s straight shoulders. He’s weaving slightly in front of the stove, standing very still aside from the sway.

“What is it?” Izuku says around a laugh. “What do you mean? What’s it look like.”

Bakugou picks up a bottle of oil and drizzles some in the pan.

“You’re…”

“Fucking?” Izuku supplies when Bakugou doesn’t go on.

Bakugou’s shoulders get very tense, like he caught a chill. “Don’t you mean /dating/,” he says around a scoff, and then adds in a mumble, “Like you’re not into that sappy bullshit.”

“No,” Izuku says, voice falling into that unintentionally goading tone he uses sometimes with Bakugou without meaning to. “We’re not dating. We’re just fucking.”

Bakugou’s shoulders get tight again and Izuku hears him breathe a puff of air.

He’s staring into his pan, holding a wooden spoon in one hand and just. Standing there. “Bullshit.”

“What?” Izuku says around a laugh. “I’m not allowed to fuck?”

Bakugou puffs out a breath again, and then says, “Bullshit you think you’re just fucking. We all know how you are with Todoroki, alright, you’re all up in that sappy, emotional relationship bullshit.”

“How /I am/ with Todoroki,” Izuku says.

“Yeah.”

“Like how /you are/ with Kirishima?”

Bakugou turns around and grunts, “How many fucking times do we have to tell you dumbasses it’s not like that?”

His cheeks are red. His eyes are red. He’s staring at Izuku with an odd look on his face, and Izuku feels a little chill of his own, like a word on the tip of his tongue that he can’t quite remember.

“Why not?”

“I don’t fuck my friends,” Bakugou snaps, turning back to his pan.

It’s still empty.

Izuku gets off his stool, and comes to lean against the other side of the kitchen island, arms crossed over his chest, one foot against Bakugou’s kitchen cabinet. Bakugou pretends not to notice and pokes the oil in the pan with his wooden spoon.

There’s a block of extra firm tofu on the counter, and a few bottles-- sesame oil, chili pepper oil, fish sauce, soy sauce, a head of garlic-- but nothing has been opened or used yet.

“You could,” Izuku says. “What are you afraid of?”

“Fuck you, nerd, I’m not /afraid/, I’m just not an idiot.”

“Elaborate,” Izuku says, eyes flicking down to Bakugou’s cold pan.

Bakugou grabs the handle and rolls the oil around in the pan. “Fucking stupid to fool around with your friends. You think you and Todoroki are just gonna walk away when you’re done?”

“Yeah. Why not? It’s just sex. It just feels good. You’ve never had a fling, Kacchan?”

“Fuck off,” Bakugou grumbles, then thumps the pan back down on the stove. “What the /fuck/ is wrong with this-”

Izuku reaches over, crowds Bakugou against the stove and puts his hand on the knob at the front. “Should probably turn the heat on.”

Bakugou is very, very still.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Izuku can’t help but press. “You’ve never had a fling. Like a one night thing.”

“I’ve had flings,” Bakugou protests, swinging around now and looking up at Izuku. His eyes go wide when he realizes how close Izuku is to him, and Izuku sees him swallow.

A flash of warmth fills Izuku’s chest. This close, he can smell the pot in Bakugou’s clothes, and the sugar sweet scent of his quirk clinging to his skin.

“With who?”

“No one you know,” Bakugou says stubbornly.

Izuku is shocked when he doesn’t push Izuku away, but he seems softer and slower than usual, like all his edges have been smoothed away.

“Aw, come on, Kacchan, you expect me to believe you’ve /never/ hooked up with anyone I know? Half the class would kill to get in your pants.”

Bakugou’s cheeks go red. “That’s bullshit.”

“No, it’s not,” Izuku says with a laugh. “After Todoroki, you’re the best looking guy we know.”

Bakugou scowls sharply, eyes narrowing, and hisses, “That fucking pretty boy--”

“You’re right. You’re not pretty, are you, Kacchan.”

He goes quiet again, lips parted, eyes wide. He looks shocked, confused, and like he can’t tear his eyes from Izuku’s face.

Izuku’s heart is beating so hard it hurts. He doesn’t know what he’s doing-- or he does, but he’s not sure why.

He isn’t planning anything, doesn’t know what he’s going to say until he says it.

“You’re more… /rough/, aren’t you?” Izuku presses. “It’s not a competition, you know, some people think you’re sexier than Todoroki.” Bakugou huffs a little breath like someone pushed on his chest. “Some people think I am.”

“Oh, you, fucking nerd?” Bakugou says, trying for venom and just sounding a little petulant.

“Sure,” Izuku says, shrugging one shoulder. “Some people like freckles. Think they’re /cute/.”

“I know what I look like,” Bakugou says, and Izuku fights off a shiver of his own.

Bakugou’s voice is lazy, arrogant, gravely tone soft with the hour and the weed. “You think you’re hot shit cause you bagged Todoroki?”

Izuku shrugs. “Because it’s so easy.”

“If you can do it,” Bakugou tries, lifting his chin.

“But you won’t.”

“No,” Bakugou says, scoffing again. “I fucking told you, I don’t fuck my friends.”

“Yeah, you said that.”

Bakugou’s eyes track down Izuku’s neck and his chest, and he finally turns away, bumping Izuku back with his hips when he does. Izuku takes a step back.

“Hey, Kacchan?”

“What, nerd.”

“I was just thinking.”

“What?” Bakugou presses when Izuku doesn’t go on.

Izuku licks his lips, heart in his throat. This. This could end so badly. But.

He lowers his voice, feels the words rolling around in his chest before he speaks them, knows how syrupy smooth they’ll sound, like warm honey, knows how sly. “We’re not really friends.”

Bakugou goes stock still. Izuku thinks he might even be holding his breath.

“Are we?”

Bakugou’s wooden spoon clatters into his cold, oily pan, and he whirls hard. Izuku tenses, expecting Bakugou to shove him away, push him into the kitchen island and start screaming at him, except when Bakugou lifts his hands, it’s to twist his fingers in Izuku’s hair.

He drags Izuku’s face down to his, and it’s clumsy, and thoughtless and frantic. Izuku shoves Bakugou back against the oven so hard the whole thing rocks.

Izuku’s skin burns where ever Bakugou touches him. It burns and it sings and Izuku feels himself smiling against Bakugou’s lips, a giddy, fizzy disbelief filling his head and making him bold and arrogant and /pushy/.

He’d been convinced he wasn’t /all that/ fucked from Kaminari’s weed, except someone’s hands on his face have /never/ felt so good.

And Bakugou.

Bakugou is limp & loose like taffy, licking into Izuku’s mouth, pushing his hands in Izuku’s hair, lolling against Izuku’s chest.

/Instantly/ Izuku wants out of the kitchen, wants Bakugou out of his /clothes/, wants--

Fuck.

He’d had the odd fantasy here and there. He’d never really forgotten the way Bakugou had treated him as a kid. They’d moved past it.

Now Bakugou treats Izuku mostly the same way he treats everyone else-- which was to say, kinda shitty, but not nearly as shitty as things had been.

So maybe that’s why once Izuku bulked up and lost the baby fat in his face he’d never fantasized about kicking Bakugou’s ass so much as fucking destroying it.

He’d almost felt /guilty/ about it. Like, after everything he and Bakugou had been through, after the tenuous /just barely/ friendly relationship they’d cultivated, he’d felt /bad/ about noticing how /tiny/ and round Bakugou’s perfect little ass is in his hero uniform.

He knows his friends would look at him like he's nuts if he admitted he’d never come harder (by himself at least) than the first time he’d pictured coming all over Bakugou’s perfect, perky tits.

It’s kinda fucked. Izuku knows that.

And it makes this /so much fucking better/.

He doesn’t know what his hands are doing until Bakugou’s head is tilted so far back it’s probably uncomfortable. He has one on Bakugou’s cheek, gentle and soft and soothingly delicate.

The other is at the nape of his neck, fingers curled tight in Bakugou’s silk soft hair, just /holding/ him there while Izuku kisses him. Bakugou makes a high, breathy sound that shoots through Izuku’s chest.

He’s smaller than Izuku thought he would be.

Some part of Izuku always pictures Bakugou like he had when they were kids: impossibly strong, arrogant grin, towering over Izuku even though he’d only been a few inches taller, and shoving Izuku around like Izuku was a rag doll.

Izuku tightens his hands- both of them, the one in Bakugou’s hair curling into a vicious fist, and the one at his cheek digging into the soft skin over Bakugou’s jaw- and feels Bakugou flair into sharp shock and panic before he goes completely lax in Izuku’s hands and /whimpers/.

What the fuck?

What the /fuck?/

Izuku jerks the hand at the back of Bakugou’s head and Bakugou hisses and whines again, hands fisting in Izuku’s shirt front, lips and tongue pressing at Izuku’s mouth and the incredible thing is, he doesn’t push away.

He doesn’t slap Izuku’s hands and tell him to quit fucking around. He doesn’t-- he /let's/ Izuku--

Fantasy is one thing but Izuku would have bet money Bakugou would be a bossy, demanding little shit in bed, would have staked a month’s pay on the idea that Bakugou at least thought he liked to call all the shots.

t's the main reason Izuku had always privately thought Bakugou was better off with Kaminari than Kirishima-- at least until the whole Shinsou thing had happened.

This is very unexpected.

Izuku decides not to overthink it.

Instead, he twists, and shoves Bakugou chest first into the kitchen island. Bakugou catches himself, chest heaving, panting like he’d been fighting, and Izuku slips his hands under Bakugou’s shirt.

He rubs his scarred palms over the thick, bunched muscle flexing across Bakugou’s broad shoulders, and devastatingly thin waist, presses his hips to Bakugou’s, and feels himself smile when Bakugou actually pushes back.

Izuku kisses the back of his neck, drags his teeth over Bakugou’s ear lobe without biting down. Bakugou shivers hard and twists his head reflexively to hide his ear, but Izuku has his cheek pressed to Bakugou’s and doesn’t let him turn away.

“Upstairs?”

Bakugou doesn’t actually form coherent words; he grunts sort of questioningly, and then when he realizes what Izuku asked him, he grunts in approval, and then when Izuku physically picks him up and flings him over his shoulder, he grunts in shock and probably fury.

The sound is cut off when Izuku (mostly just to fuck with Bakugou, if he’s being really honest with himself) activates his quirk and flashes up the stairs on a trail of green lightning.

He flings Bakugou down onto his (low, neatly made and headboard-less) bed and watches Bakugou’s eyes roll shut. He’s visibly disoriented, maybe even a little dizzy from the way Izuku had just whipped him up the stairs like that.

He manages one weak, “Fucking hell, ner-- D--Deku?” before Izuku puts his knees on the bed and drags Bakugou forward by the thighs.

Bakugou sits up, mouth seeking Izuku’s, and he gasps hard when Izuku pushes him back down again with his hand on Bakugou’s chest.

There is another flair of green light and Izuku /holds him there/.

If Izuku had stopped to think, he might have pulled back, just a little. But he doesn't think and he doesn't slow down. How can he?

He'd had no idea how-- how much he wanted this, how good it would feel to see Bakugou so thoroughly /dominated/. That burning caramel smell gets a little stronger; Izuku can feel Bakugou's heart racing under his palm, spread possessively across Bakugou’s chest.

Bakugou's eyes fall closed, blonde lashes fluttering against his red cheeks. He's breathing /so/ hard, clinging to Izuku's wrist with one hand. The other is on Izuku's thigh, fingertips digging into Izuku's jeans like he wants to drag Izuku closer.

Izuku almost leans down, spreads himself over Bakugou's strong, angular body, kisses him into a frantic jumble of desperate want. Bakugou is so close to that already, Izuku can hardly believe it.

He would have expected arrogance and self-assured demand, but not this. Not this, limp, mewling, desperate little /slut/.

His eyes are still closed, and Izuku moves the hand curled around Bakugou's waist up to his jaw. "Look at me, Kacchan."

Bakugou's brows furrow, like he might be angry, and he tries to turn his head into Izuku's hand. Izuku pushes back, keeps him from hiding. "Come on."

Bakugou opens his eyes and he tries to glare but there is no fire in it, no combat.

Izuku doesn't understand, but he isn't complaining either. He likes this needy, pliant Bakugou, likes that he feels like Bakugou would let him do whatever he wanted to and would thank him for it after.

It's a surprise but maybe it shouldn't be. Bakugou's wound so tight most of the time, maybe Izuku should have expected him to have at least one good way to fall apart.

Izuku smiles at him, shows all his teeth without meaning to. He probably looks like a shark. Or a wolf.

Bakugou's breath catches and Izuku feels it under his palm. His eyes are wide now, trained on Izuku's face.

"Nothing to say to me, Kacchan?"

Bakugou’s throat moves and he opens his mouth, eyes wide in a way that strikes Izuku as almost /innocent/ for some reason he can’t quite understand.

Then Bakugou’s mouth closes stubbornly, and his eyes narrow and he looks so much like Izuku had /expected/ that he forgets to think harder about what he’d seen before, that he forgets to wonder why Bakugou had been staring at him like that.

“Nothing at all?” Izuku teases.

He moves his hands to Bakugou’s waist and unbuttons his jeans. Bakugou /gasps/ again and even moans a little, eyes rolling back while Izuku starts to work the waistband down around Bakugou’s hips. “No ‘fuck you, shitty Deku’s, no ‘worthless fucking nerd’s tonight?”

Izuku had meant it as a tease but as he speaks the last four words, quotes Bakugou’s worst tendencies back at him, Izuku’s voice goes unexpectedly dark. Bakugou swallows hard again, eyes opening now and landing, very obviously, on Izuku’s mouth.

Izuku gets Bakugou’s jeans down around his thighs and laughs when he sees how wet the gray fabric of his boxer briefs are. “Look at you. You soaked your panties for me, Kacchan?”

Izuku presses his palm to the wet spot and Bakugou bites back an outright moan, shivers like he didn’t mean to. He sounds like a fucking porno, like a cam boy.

He moaned so perfect Izuku almost thinks he has to be /faking/ except he feels the way Bakugou’s cock jumps in his underwear, feels the shiver that runs through him again and those are /very/ hard to fake.

“Why are you doing this?” Bakugou grits out, startling Izuku from his appreciative musings. He considers Bakugou’s question in silence for a beat, and then peels the underwear down. “F-/fuck, fuck/--” Bakugou whispers like he can’t help it.

“Doing what?” Izuku goads, although he thinks he knows. He drags one finger down the exposed underside of Bakugou’s cock and watches precome bead off the tip.

He’s so hard his skin looks blood red, head pulled tight and shiny, and soaked in so much precome Izuku almost wonders if Bakugou had come in his pants the second Izuku had touched him and Izuku just hadn’t noticed.

“With me,”Bakugou grits out around another low, helpless moan.

“Why not-- /oh my-- hi/-- why not call /Halfie-- fuck/.”

Izuku blinks at him. “I’m with you.”

“Fucked. You’re so fucked,” Bakugou slurs and now he almost sounds like he’s going to start laughing.

Izuku keeps dragging his finger up and down Bakugou’s cock and offers no more stimulation than that. Bakugou is shaking and Izuku is too pleased, to thoroughly overjoyed to wonder about it.

It takes him a second to realize what Bakugou means, and when he does, he laughs.

“Oh, I get it. You mean why would I want to go to bed with /you/.” Izuku lifts his eyes to Bakugou’s face, finds Bakugou staring at him like Izuku holds Bakugou’s life in his hands. “After /everything between us/.”

Bakugou bites his lip and doesn’t say anything.

Izuku stares down at him, and then wordlessly disentangles himself, climbs off the bed.

Bakugou makes a sounds like Izuku just stabbed him and then flushes all the way to his toes when he realizes Izuku only stood up to get undressed.

He watches Izuku do it, and Izuku can't help but bask in the attention. It feels so fucking good he wants to just stand here, make Bakugou stare at him, feel Bakugou wanting him.

He takes a guess and opens the deep drawer in Bakugou’s nightstand and is rewarded by Bakugou jerking up off the bed and shouting, “/Wait/--”

Izuku is already looking inside and he starts to laugh again.

There is the lube he was looking for.

It's in a red, blue, and yellow tube branded 'All Night.' There’s also a few toys. The pocket pussy, the modestly sized butt plug, even the thick metal cock ring don’t really surprise Izuku.

The huge green and white dildo is another story.

Izuku only recognizes it because Todoroki had found it on twitter and sent him the link as a joke-- some private seller who specialized in unofficial hero merch had made it based on Hero Deku’s suit.

Izuku had been equal parts horrified, amused, and proud since he wasn’t even officially a pro hero for a few more days.

He picks it up and turns to face Bakugou, who is so red in the face, Izuku wonders if he might be having some kind of episode.

“To answer your question, Kacchan,” Izuku says, setting the dildo down on the nightstand hard enough that the suction cup on the bottom engages and it just wobbles there looking damning and utterly obscene.

He gets onto the bed and effortlessly wrestles Bakugou over so he’s chest down on the bed, so Izuku’s chest is pressed to his back, bicep wrapped around Bakugou’s shoulders, hoisting him up off the mattress.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good you won’t ever come again without wishing it was me inside you.”

Bakugou sucks in a breath, starts gasping like he can’t get enough air, like he’s drowning.

“Can you think of a better revenge? Because I can’t.”

I don't think I've ever mentioned this, so FWIW, I love interaction on my threads! QRTs and comments are both good with me and in fact that GIVE ME LIFE and keep me CONSTANTLY refreshing my feed!

I hope you're all enjoying this so far! It's about to get D I R T Y

I barely know how twitter works but I think I might have broken the chain up if you start reading from the top...

here's the next tweet in this thread! https://twitter.com/ellabesmirched/status/1200926888832753664