Chapter 1

Goddamnit. When'd Deku get so strong? And, more generally, when had he developed hero-esque sex appeal? One second Bakugo was close to blowing Deku's nose off, and the next he was pinned down in a fucking crater. Bakugo kicked the bottom of his locker, sparking away the nitroglycerine that had collected along his arms and back. Angry was easier than anything else, it was an emotion he was versed in. Anger fueled adrenaline, and adrenaline fueled his quirk with explosive sweat so he could blow fucking shit up that pissed him off. Like Deku's jawline. So he went back to anger, over and over, shoving more complex understandings out of mind. He wasn't confused. He definitely was not confused. He liked ass. And tits, probably.

The hot headed teen played the afternoon's sparring session back through his mind.

The class had been given 2 rules, both of which had quickly been broken. First, they had to spar within 16 foot circles, drawn in chalk, limiting movement for close combat. Second, all quirks were disallowed. In the event they were hit with one of those quirk nullifying bullets, or another quirk similar to Aizawa sensei's, they should be prepared to defend themselves until reinforcements arrived.

Bakugo had had that tape elbowed side character face down in the dirt, which pissed him off. It was like Sero had given up before he'd even thrown a fist- and winning like that was worthless to Bakugo. So, he let the worthless dweeb know as much, a pep talk if you will. And maybe he had gone overboard, but the world was harsh and villains were harsher and if sticky freak didn't get his act together he was going to die. Which is what Bakugo was reminding him, kindly enough. Because angry people could be kind too.

But then that good-for-nothing one-for-all freckled freak just had to have an opinion on it, the way he seemed to have an opinion on everything lately. He had paused his own sparring match with Uraraka to throw a full cowel over his way. "You know," Midoriya had started cockily, his voice lower than usual, "I'm getting pretty fed up with your less than cooperative attitude, Ba-ka-chan!" A taunt? From Deku? That was rare, the ashy haired teen mused. Instinctively, Bakugo braced for the attack, knowing he could bear the brunt. He heard a muttered admiration from Sero before getting catapulted back, which pissed him off more than he already was over the bug's growing sense of self-esteem. The kick was harder than he'd anticipated, Deku must've come at him with 15% charge. The air knocked out of him, but he landed balanced and began charging back at the green haired wannabe.

"Acting all heroic and shit in the middle of P.E. Tsch." Ah, that set the nerd off, Bakugo thought as he watched Deku re-cloak himself in lightning green energy. But unlike Bakugo, Deku wasn't used to fighting on a flared temper. The nerd had been acting up more than usual lately, looking confident and determined like an altruistic fuck. His freckles had gotten more prominent too, probably from the extra time spent training outside. Why was he noticing that kind of shit?

"At least I remember to act like one," Deku scoffed. "With the way you treat your classmates, it'd be easy to mistake you for a B-rate villain." Bakugo glanced towards the class, most of who were staring on- both used to the duo's raw brawls and weary of Midoriya's sudden aggression. The insult, even by Bakugo's measurement, was atypical of the timid boy.

"Huh, only took you 12 years to grow a backbone, loser." And that had the boy flying at him again- and he wasn't going to lie, riling him up was really lighting a fire inside him. The gleam of gritted teeth in the harsh afternoon sun, the strain of his newly developed neck muscles, the unhinged attack pattern- fuck maybe this wasn't good, he was getting distracted.

He dodged Midoriya's attack, it had been lighter than the one previously anyways. He sensed Aizawa approaching, and he considered the consequences of breaking the rules again. "I don't really want to get caught messing around in P.E. Deku, but since you've already gone ahead and broken the rules, we might as well make it interesting."

He'd seen Deku out in the forest during his midnight runs, green flashes lighting up the clearing and casting shadows in the night. Unlike Bakugo though, he's been outside for hours and his form was getting sloppy. And all that really grinded his gears. "Come at me with that sloppy form you call fighting!" Bakugo growled, sparks flying off his arms. Perfect practice made perfect. Deku had to know that training on nothing but pure will would only continue putting him in the infirmary. And Bakugo didn't mind being the one to put him there.

So, they exchanged explosions and swipes and kicks and let the words sit where they sat. Real men, Kirishima would say, worked this out with fists.

Maybe he'd been riled up emotionally, or maybe he'd actually just gotten better, but Midoriya had dropped the annoying habit he'd cultivated of trying to calculate Bakugo. It was always a little futile, and easily turned against him. And fighting was more fun when it was spontaneous and raw. They hadn't landed as many hits as they had in their previous brawl, really they were trading air and out maneuvering each other. Deku, Bakugo believed, had finally discovered the art of fighting was more than a series of probabilities with finite outcomes. Fighting was revolution.

And, it seemed, in the last moments before their quirks were deactivated, that Midoriya was staging a coup. Midoriya goddamn had him pinned, having readjusted (impossibly) their trajectory midair from Bakugo's Explode-A-Pult. It was the blonde's newest move, but he was a perfectionist. The idea- no, the fact- that Deku of all his fucking classmates had reversed it… The two laid in the minor crater made by their impact- Deku holding a ring finger, engorged with inherited power, ready to flick him in the forehead with 5% of One-For-All. And Bakugo wasn't gunning for a concussion anytime soon. At least not on top of whatever bones were already fractured from the impact.

"Checkmate," Midoriya grinned widely like the cocky bastard he was. The fiery teen felt like spitting at him. The thought was really goddamn tempting, encouraged by the fucking nerd's death hold on his right shoulder. Midoriya dropped the loaded hand down to Bakugo's other shoulder, and lowered his freckled face until his mouth was brushing with unkept blonde locks. He could feel the shortness of Midoriya's breath along his neck, which disgustingly stirred some feelings other than rage in his gut. He felt a fresh blush creep up the tops of his ears, that thankfully he could pass off as exhaustion (not that he'd admit either embarrassment or exhaustion. He wasn't a wimp. And he wasn't gay).

Midoriya lowered his voice again, activating that gravely tone he'd used earlier. And then, Midoriya said the most ridiculous thing Bakugo had ever heard, "Maybe," The word was slow and traveled right down the leaner teen's spine, "I would've grown a backbone sooner had the back I'd been staring at all those years had one." The feeling of Deku's voice was unpleasant, but he found himself waiting for more. Due to his winning nature and less than winning personality, Bakugo had only had anyone this close when they were already half unconscious and underneath his fist. He'd never had his own wrath thrown back at him, and certainly, he'd never found himself beneath someone. But here he was, underneath the goddamn Almight fan-boy, short of breath, and really fucking turned on. Bakugo thanked himself for the baggy costume pants.

He must've been undersocialized or something. Maybe he should give Ashido a shot. She was strong and athletic, not too goody goody either. And she had tits. Bouncey, soft, pink tits… wait that calmed him down.

Must be the pink. He'd never liked girly fucking colors. But he'd chock calm up as a win for the moment.

Fuck, he'd been thinking for too long. What had Deku said? It must've been an insult. His natural reaction would be to get angry. Get angry. He could do that. "What'd you say bastard?" He shouted, gnarling his teeth and steeling his brows. He let off a few quick sparks to punctuate the point, a show really. That was as far as he got before he felt his quirk dissapate. Fuck, they'd been caught.

"It's unlike Midoriya to instigate." Worse, Aizawa-wad had seen him fucking pinned underneath a worthless bug. Which was arguably worse than having a boner because of the aforementioned fact. Much worse.

And he couldn't blast his way out of this.

"Nothing important," The moppy haired teen retorted, smiling and getting up. "Just something about how I used to look up to you." What a dig. Bakugo half expected him to reach out a hand like he'd always done. But Midoriya left him on the ground, turning his back to face Aizawa. His jawline was more defined than when they'd entered UA. His stature had shrunk some without one for all activated, but the muscle he'd built from the hours of intense training stayed. He'd grown. And for that moment, Bakugo really found himself looking up to him. His fists balled dry ground until fragments were biting into the calloused flesh.

"Yo, trouble makers." Aizawa's scarf dangled in the wind as it seemed to perpetually do.

"Ah, we're just about done here Aizawa-sensei!" Izuku scratched the back of his head.

"You broke protocol again." Aizawa didn't sound surprised. Really, none of them were. "You're both becoming rather inconvenient. How about you fill in this crater to start. And seeing as Deku threw the first punch, I'll put him on house arrest first."

"First?" Bakugo wondered allowed, overtop Deku's diligent yessir.

"Your behavior together is nothing short of erratic. Placing you together on house arrest will just end up in additional damage to the facility." Aizawa let out a yawn, "Which in turn would give me even more to think about at night." Aizawa walked away, having other mundane things to express boredom over. Midoriya turned back towards his rival. "I dismissed your classmates." He turned on his heel, waving over his shoulder as he added, "Oh, and no quirks allowed. Fill it in with your own strength."

"You can go on ahead. Like Aizawa-sensei said, I threw the first punch this time." Midoriya clenched his fist and stared at it with that determined look in his eyes."I can handle filling this in!" Finally, an out.

"Tsch. Do as you want, Deku!" Bakagou laced as much hatred into that name as he could, stomping back towards the locker room. He was tired of hearing the nerd's voice today. "And don't tell me what to do, damnit!" But he thought, for a sheer moment, that maybe being told what to do would sound nice filtered through All Might's hand-me-down quirk. He reached up to grab at the ear Deku had verbally assaulted.

He wasn't confused, he was just pent up.

The lockers always smelt of rotting spandex, gravel, and wet cement. For a state of the art school, it was oddly reminiscent of the ancient 80s movies he'd seen. The one's with stupid inspirational coaches that Deku probably admired. And maybe Kirishima, he liked anything manly like that.

Modern Hero History was next, no wonder the fanboy didn't mind missing. He'd probably memorized it all sequentially by the time they were 7. Midoria memorized as he absorbed.. Pushing the afternoon's experience down, he showered up ahead of his classmates and tried to recall when the last quiz had been. He had 25 minutes until class, and maybe 35 minutes before the quiz was handed out. That teacher always liked to talk about the news like it was pivotal or something. News was as fleeting as hero rankings. If news was so important, how come it wasn't automatically history?

Besides, they made so much of it it could take up a full 24 hours. Every day, every week, all the time. Why should he waste time on speculations?

"Bakugo! Shoulda expected you'd take sparring to the next level man!" Kirishima slapped him on the back. Bakugo noted the fracture on the left side of his ribs. He unloaded his grenade gauntlets, rubbing at his wrists. He'd talk to the support department after checking in with recovery grandma.

"Shut up." He wasn't in the mood for pep talks today. He wasn't good at processing this kind of shit.

"Kinda unlike Midoriya to get up and confront you like that." Sometimes Bakugo wondered if Kirishima knew the end to his thoughts or if he just had to process everything out in the open like an idiot. "But y'know, he's getting pretty strong! Makes me want to try even harder to perfect my fighting style!" And there was that big, spiky toothed, optimistic grin. Bakugo turned away, removing his tank top and throwing it in his locker. The school had a laundry service to clean and repair damaged equipment and costumes. It was homework for the support department, basically.

"Whatever." Maybe apathy would work. Seemed like a key to Tokoyami's social approach and people mostly left him alone. He looked at his reflection and twisted some hair, maybe he'd dye his hair black.

"Are you thinking about dying your hair?" How the hell was he so perceptive?

"Like hell I am. I was just thinking it was too long, is all." He really wasn't convincing on that, and he knew it. He was tired. Kirishima drew in closer, already in his boxers with a towel thrown across his shoulders. He reached to twist a few strands himself. It wasn't unusual for him to invade Bakugo's personal space, but normally Bakugo was less aware of his sudden attraction to Deku and lack of attraction to Ashido.

"Hmmm. I dunno, I think it fits your hero theme to keep it spikey like this." Bakugo stared right between the red eyes contemplating his split ends, probably looking pensive himself. "If you crop it down you'd look too military-esque…" The red haired teen trailed off, letting go of the blonde locks and retracting himself from Bakugo's space. He felt himself breath, not realizing he hadn't. "And after Best Jeanist I don't think the groomed look really fits Dynamight either!"

"You wanna die, Shitty Hair?" Kirishima laughed, they rarely called each other by their hero names. Well, Bakugo admitted, he rarely called anyone by their name.

"What, can't handle a little denim-clad distress?" The explosive teen felt like he might burst again, throwing around sparks to emphasize exactly how done he was with this conversation. Kirishima just smiled more, moving for the showers. Bakugo drank in the thick ropes of muscle that Kirishima had developed. He went harder on the weights than anyone did anymore.

"Anyways, I like you better as a blonde. It's more epic!" Bakugo watched Kirishima's reflection shrink from the mirror on his locker.

He shucked his own clothes and threw them in the locker. He wrapped his towel around his waist and slammed the door shut, just to announce his "Don't fucking fuck with me I will end you" attitude to the rest of his classmates.

He stepped into the furthest stall, and cranked the temperature up as hot as it would go. He still had 18 minutes till class and 28 minutes before the quiz. He thought back to the last several ones, only one had asked for a date, several asked for the significance of major events in several chapters, and a few asked for listed contributions from different figures. Easy fucking shit. Right now would be his last free moment until after dinner, and then Kirishima would probably bug him to study or join the group for a movie or something else stupid and useless. Now was the time, if there was going to be one to handle his issue. At least the showers had doors.

Goddamn today sucked. He was about to yank one out in the fucking locker room. Over Deku, of all the losers he could be pining after. But he had 7 minutes for this so he was going to have to listen to his messed-up libido. Bakugo let the water fall over top his head, face immersed in the water with eyes shut tight. He blushed and gritted his teeth, fisting his cock as he pictured Deku on his knees. His mouth slightly open as he obediently took his big freaking cock in his mouth.

Soft. What the hell?

He pictured a sexy Deku, with a cute bubble butt he could rub up against from behind.

That just… didn't work. Deku was beyond strong now and he'd lost any traces of his middle school softness. Okay, Katsuki. You have this, you can jerk off and leave it all right here and then just never use this shower again. Follow your dick's will. Never in his life, did he think his dick would need a pep talk. He thought back, placing himself back in the crater, Deku's mouth centimeters from his sensitive spot and throwing chills down his back. Fuck, he liked that. His body was centimeters away, it felt almost dangerous. If Deku had dropped his hips just a few inches, he would've felt Bakagou's erection. Bakagou wondered what the green haired boy would've done had he discovered how embarrassed he'd been.

Deku had been fiesty lately, he'd been up to fight without direct provocation. Maybe he got off on looking down at him. He bet he did, he'd always been looking down on him despite being a nerd. Warmth pooled in his gut and Bakugo stroked his member with loose fingers, his mind exploring the possibilities. He liked aggressive, it was a bit like fighting. Fighting was comfortable.

He imagined Deku rolling his hips against him, cussing at him, whispering to him, pressing his back further into the floor. So this was the kind of thing Ka-chan was into, Deku ran his voice along the blonde's ear. Bakagou swallowed hard and fisted the head of his cock. He pictured the nerd trailing his hands down his chest to nipples he'd just noticed were hard, taunting him sarcastically with that damn nickname. Ka-chan, your chest is starting to feel good, huh? He'd never had that before, but he also hadn't had a gay fantasy before.

He twisted them the way he'd seen girls do in porn, and god that sensation went straight to his dick. His hand sped up, swiveling fingers across the head. Bakagou was careful about his voice, but he found himself wanting to play along with the Deku in his head. How does it feel being underneath a worthless fan boy, Dynamight? Fuck, Bakago wanted to cum. And nothing was seriously hotter than that thought. He slowed everything down, pulling harder at his chest like Deku was teasing him. He was already close, now he was just entertaining the fantasy because he couldn't remember the last time his dick felt this. Freaking. Good. The blonde let his hips roll into his hand, pretending he was desperately grinding up into the freckled teen's member. If One-For-All actually deepened his voice, he could only imagine how it enhanced his hard on. Cum, Ka-chan. Use me. I got hard just for you to orgasm like you never have in your whole life, so don't go wasting it.

"I'm fucking pathetic," it was a breath, barely audible above the sound of the shower, but it pushed him over the edge. Every muscle in his stomach clenched up as he spilled out, hips jerking into his hand. He hated being told what to do, but damn.

"All Hell," Bakugo threw his hand against the wall, stabilizing himself as he recovered his breathing and sense of reality. He had never felt more disgusting than when he watched his cum drain with the shower water and any shrivel of pride he had.

"All good, Bakugo?" Fuck, Kirishima. He shoved some shampoo in his hair, lathering as quickly as he could.

"Don't you have a quiz to fail in 10 minutes?" Bakugo taunted, dipping his head under the shower head.

"Not if you can help it!" Kirishima replied, coy as fuck.

"You're cheeky barging in on my goddamn shower." He needed to let his conditioner sit, he might as well argue in the meantime.

"You never go more than 5 minutes!" Why would he even know that? Bakugo searched his caddy for his curology. None.

"You stalking me now, Kirishima?" It was true that Bakugo was a man of efficiency. Just like his productive jerk session just now. Dude knew how to get shit done fast.
"Well any free time you have is time you can be making sure I don't fail like the dumbass I am. Save me from myself, dear hero."

"Pass me some face wash and I'll drill you on the last chapter on the walk over."

"Now you're just threatening me with a good time, Baku." Ugh Bakugo felt his heart flutter a little and he had to calm himself down. The whole world was fucking with him right now and he was so not prepared for it. "Finish up in there, I'll leave mine on the sink for you." Bakugo rinsed the conditioner out and ran a hand through the soft locks. It was so satisfying to be this perfect.

He toweled his hair and then wrapped it around his waist. He grabbed a fresh pair of boxers from his locker and did a quick swipe of lotion over his arms, and shoulders. He took a look in the full length mirror, thinking maybe he should focus on his lats a little more during his lifts. They'd fill his torso out a little more visually, and give him some extra stability in his highly acrobatic moves. He pulled on some jeans and went over to the sink, where Kirishima was waiting with the essentials.

"Dude this is Tatcha," Bakugo turned the scrub over in his hands in disbelief.

"Todoroki showed it to me." He watched Bakugo tap some of the powder into the palm of his hand, adding a drop of water to make a scrub paste.

"Shoulda figured he had an expensive skincare routine." Kirishima leaned against the counter, studying Bakugo's scrubbing technique.
"Okay but do you see his face? No pores. The media training class has me all freaked out on photoshopping. I just want to be real when I'm out there, ya know? But I also don't want ugly skin, so unmanly." Bakugo got it a little bit, splashing his face with water. Kirishima hadn't always thought he'd be a hero, so he wasn't as focused on these little upkeep things when he was younger. "You're blessed with skin like yours dude, I can just see all the skincare brands that are going to be ogling over your image for their lines." Bakugo knew he'd be destined for the spotlight once his quirk manifested, he dreamed of his greatness every moment. He'd gotten into stringent habits young, the results showed as he stared at his neatly tanned, porcelain surfaced face.

"Let's go already, it's weird hearing you drool over how pretty I am," and it was, but it also felt like a confidence boost after an exhausting and frustrating afternoon. He swiped some moisturizer and packed it all back into Kirishima's to go bag, tossing it up for him to catch as he finished getting a shirt on and his books together.

"I reserve the right to appreciate my friends uniquely," he stuck his nose up after closing his locker out. "Okay, so what chapter were we supposed to read?"
"Chap-TERS, you Shit Brain."

And so the two friends settled into their familiar routine as they walked to class, and Bakugo was glad that at least something felt stable today.