Work Header

I Didn't Sign Up For This Shit

Work Text:

This really was his own fault this time, Bakugou thought, silently berating himself for ever agreeing to come to—to this thing they were all having. Ashido had been talking about having a get together with everyone for fucking weeks and despite his adamant protests to the contrary, Bakugou now found himself seated in the living room of her and Hagakure’s apartment.

On the floor. In a circle with everyone else, all the tables and chairs pushed up against the walls of the room, an empty wine bottle lying on the floor before them all. The very sight of it raised Bakugou’s ire.

“This is so much fun,” Ochako hummed happily from beside him, bumping his shoulder lightly with her own repeatedly as she swayed back and forth.

He made a noise of distaste. “You’re just drunk, angel face. This is fucking terrible.”

From his other side, Kirishima laughed, throwing an arm around him. Bakugou barely managed to repress the urge to shove him off. “Man, don’t be such a buzz kill, Blasty. We hardly ever get to see everyone anymore. It’s fun!

Bakugou snorted. “Yeah, sure, ‘fun’ for you maybe, seeing as how you just spent the last seven minutes making out with Kaminari in a fucking closet, shitty hair.”

Kirishima’s face reddened slightly, but his grin only grew wider. Tch. No fucking shame.

“I don’t kiss and tell, dude. That’s just rude. Not manly at all. I would never—”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, finally giving in to the urge to shove him and knocking Kirishima sideways into the person seated on his other side—who just happened to be Kaminari himself. Kirishima was immediately distracted as a result, flirting obnoxiously and seeming to forget Bakugou’s existence entirely. Bakugou considered it a small blessing, taking a long drink from the bottle Ochako had handed him when she first sat down beside him.

At least one of his so-called “friends” wasn’t completely useless, he supposed.

“Alright, who’s next?” Hagakure called, drawing everyone’s attention back to the game at hand.

Everyone around him began chattering excitedly. Bakugou groaned, dropping his head to rub at the crease between his eyebrows and fighting off an oncoming headache.

Seven minutes in heaven. They were way too fucking old to be playing this kind of game. Maybe they could’ve gotten away with it when they’d all still been students at U.A. back in the day, he supposed. They were all in their early twenties now though, and as far as Bakugou was concerned, pro heroes didn’t spend their weekends drinking and making out like a bunch of teenagers.

Except that they apparently did, because here he was, somehow in the middle of this fucking mess.

Bakugou glared down at the wine bottle as if it was the cause for his suffering tonight, and not his own stubborn pride. Pride had ensured he showed up in the first place, unwilling to be left out of their little get-together. Pride had ensured he drank whatever had been handed to him throughout the night, because like hell he couldn’t keep up with everyone else. Pride had also made it absolutely certain that Bakugou didn’t refuse to play; it seemed weak to be the only person at a party who stood by and huffed along the sidelines like a pouty child.

Being an angry little black cloud in the middle of the circle, while not ideal, was still preferable.

So far, he’d been lucky enough to not have had to actively participate in anything. If he was really lucky, everyone would get bored with the game before that could happen. His scowl deepened further, because even as he had the thought, he knew it was extremely unlikely. These fuckers were all cackling like a band of drunk hyenas, having way too much fun at everyone else’s expense. Or at least at the expense of Bakugou’s patience, which was stretched thin even on a good day, for fucks sake.

He took another long sip of his drink, watching as the group settled back down. He supposed he could handle a little making out, depending on who it was with. Most of their friends weren’t bad looking, after all. Hell, he might even enjoy it.

“Todoroki’s turn!” Midoriya crowed from across the circle, very clearly drunk off his damn ass. Bakugou could barely stand Midoriya at the best of times, but at least when he was drunk, he was much more likely to embarrass himself. This fact served to cheer Bakugou up enough to at least keep him from openly starting a fight with the idiot. “Come on, Todoroki! I already had my turn. It’s only fair.”

Bakugou watched, pleased when Todoroki froze up momentarily and only slightly disappointed when he didn’t literally freeze himself out of sheer nerves or something.

Bakugou had a suspicion that Todoroki was here for reasons similar to his own, except perhaps with an emphasis on something stupid like “making friends” rather than just having an ego the size of the moon. He was clearly out of his element, though, which –although he would never admit to it— actually made Bakugou feel better. Slightly. At least he knew he wasn’t the only one at this party who was awkward as all hell about making out with people he actually knew as opposed to people he didn’t have to see on a regular basis.

Todoroki visibly steeled himself, reaching out to take hold of the bottle. “I guess my turn has to come eventually,” he offered in that annoyingly composed voice of his, but Bakugou could see the tension in his jaw, the look in his eyes that seemed more appropriate for someone walking into battle than someone walking into a make-out session with one of their ex-classmates and fellow pro-heroes.

He gave the bottle an abrupt spin, the whole room fixated on the rotating glass with looks bordering on mania. Even Bakugou couldn’t stop the little smirk on his face.

His expression was immediately wiped blank, the blood drain from his face when the bottle stopped, pointing directly at himself.

A hush fell over the room that wasn’t unlike the calm before a storm. That seemed appropriate. Bakugou wanted to be angry, truly –wanted to rage and yell or break something— but for some reason the emotion just didn’t come like it was supposed to.

And before he had a chance to say or do anything, he heard a noise from beside him that started off quiet, slowly growing until Bakugou recognized it as poorly repressed laughter. Kirishima and Kaminari were falling over one another, wheezing and gasping for breath.

“Oh, dude,” Kaminari managed. “This is the best day of my life, man.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Bakugou seethed, smacking them both on the back of the head, which only made them laugh harder.

It was apparently contagious, because the entire room was soon laughing, despite the imminent threat to their lives Bakugou tried to communicate through the most vicious glaring he could manage.

He hated them. He hated all of them. Fuck friendship, friends were the worst.

He finally managed to look Todoroki in the eye, unsure of what he would find when he did.

An open challenge was not what he had been expecting, and yet there it was, gleaming silently at him from across the room.

“I have to go in there with you? I didn’t sign up to play 7 minutes in hell,” Bakugou groused, his fists gripping his bottle of beer almost tight enough to break it.

“K-Kacchan, I’m sorry, but you—you have to,” Midoriya said through laughter, leaning heavily on Iida, who was completely passed out cold beside him. “It’s the rules.”

“Yes, Bakugou. It’s the rules,” Todoroki agreed, something smug on his face that Bakugou desperately wanted to destroy. “Unless maybe you’re too uncomfortable with the idea? I suppose you could quit the game, if you wanted.”

Bakugou knew when he was being goaded. He wasn’t a fucking idiot. However, he also knew when he was backed into a corner.

He gave a frustrated growl before finishing off the rest of his beer, rapidly standing up –a bad idea, perhaps, given that everything seemed to sway briefly—and flipping off the rest of the room when they all started cheering.

Todoroki stood up across from him, too graceful, too composed for someone who Bakugou knew had been drinking just as much as him.

Not that Bakugou had been paying him any special attention. He just happened to be aware.

“Let’s get this over with,” Bakugou mumbled, stalking off toward the direction of the empty coat closet they’d all been using all night.

“Have fun Bakugou!” Ochako called.

“Please don’t kill each other in my closet, I don’t want to clean that up,” Ashido hollered cheerfully after them.

“I’m not gonna fucking kill him, for fucks sake, we’re not fifteen anymore,” Bakugou half-shouted, promptly shoving Todoroki into the closet before stumbling in after him, slamming the door shut behind them with more force than most would consider necessary but Bakugou would promise was definitely the right amount.

There was no light in the closet, except what little peeked under the crack of the door, illuminating Todoroki just enough for Bakugou to make out his silhouette. The closet was small enough that barely a foot separated them, and he could feel the heat emanating off of Todoroki even from this distance. The smell of old wood and chipping paint filled the space between them, the scent familiar and mollifying Bakugou’s nerves somewhat.

Not that Bakugou was nervous about making out with Todoroki. He just wasn’t a fan of enclosed spaces.

“We’re starting the timer now boys!” someone shouted from the other side of the door. Bakugou felt his skin prickle, his breath seeming too loud in the little oasis of quiet they now found themselves in.

“This was certainly not how I imagined my night was going to go,” Todoroki murmured, voice soft. Almost like he was afraid talking any louder might shatter the moment.

Bakugou was annoyed at himself for feeling similarly when he all but whispered back, “Yeah, well neither did I, half ‘n half.”

They fell into silence. Bakugou could feel Todoroki’s eyes on him, and he was sure Todoroki could feel his own piercing gaze trained on him as well. Sizing each other up, Bakugou thought. Maybe if he simply stood there long enough, Todoroki would do the same and then they wouldn’t have to kiss at all.

That’d be a fucking waste though, a part of him thought traitorously.

Todoroki wasn’t unattractive. He was annoying as all fuck, sure, but Bakugou wasn’t exactly put off by him. The older they’d gotten, the more they’d seemed to smooth down the rough edges that once were so keen to cut at one another. They even worked well together on occasion sometimes now when the situation called for it, though Bakugou would hardly call them anything even close to resembling friends.

Still. He’d had enough errant inappropriate thoughts about the bastard over the years to find himself unwilling to turn down a perfectly good opportunity to sate his curiosity.

“So we doing this or what?” Bakugou asked, his voice a lot less threatening than he’d intended. He didn’t like the way the words made him feel vulnerable, but they were out now and he couldn’t take them back.

Todoroki shifted across from him. Bakugou could see the corner of his mouth turn up in the dim light. “I wasn’t convinced you wouldn’t punch me for trying, to be honest. I assume you probably haven’t had much experience with things like this, given your horrible attitude. I didn’t want to startle you.”

Irritation flared to life in Bakugou’s chest, pushing back the uncertainty and nerves and replacing it with barely suppressed rage. As much as he was annoyed, he appreciated the familiar territory. “Excuse me?” he hissed quietly. “Are you implying I’m, what. A virgin or something?”

Todoroki hummed noncommittally. “I’m not implying anything. Only making a careful observation that, based on your personality, you probably haven’t had a lot of opportunity to do things like this.”

Bakugou fisted his hands in Todoroki’s shirt so fast even he was barely aware of it, pushing him abruptly up against the closet wall, Todoroki giving a small gasp of surprise as his own hands fell against the back of the closet to catch himself.

He felt furious that Todoroki would think that—that anyone would think that about him.

Experience was about the last thing Bakugou lacked. He just hadn’t ever been particularly interested in keeping anyone around for long. But Bakugou prided himself on being the best at everything, and sex was no different; Bakugou relished knowing that he was a night someone would never forget, an experience people were desperate to have more than once and that he was unwilling to provide—that there were people out there who would do anything to have him like that again.

He’d be damned if he wasn’t about to add Todoroki to that list.

“I’m gonna make you eat those fucking words,” Bakugou said, voice low as he leaned into Todoroki’s space, speaking against his ear. “You want to see what kind of experience I have, asshole?”

He pressed up against Todoroki, slotting a leg between Todoroki’s own, which were still splayed out from stumbling backwards. He felt more than heard Todoroki’s sharp intake of breath as he moved in even closer, his mouth grazing the skin of Todoroki’s ear lobe in a barely there touch as he licked his lips, ghosting hot breath against warm skin.

Bakugou felt a full body shiver work its way through Todoroki. He pulled back just as Todoroki opened his mouth to say something, because of course the fucking idiot couldn’t shut the fuck up for seven whole goddamn minutes.

But before he could say a word, Bakugou pressed his mouth roughly against Todoroki’s own in an open mouthed kiss so good even Bakugou could feel his own toes curling in his shoes, their lips slotting together like they’d done this a thousand times before.

He was more than a little shocked when Todoroki immediately started kissing him back, but not at all displeased. He dropped his hold on Todoroki’s shirt, his hands inching forward to wrap around his neck and tangle in his hair—something Bakugou had wanted to do since they were both fifteen, because Todoroki’s hair had always looked so fucking soft and too damn pretty for Bakugou’s sanity.

The feeling of it actually having it in his fingers didn’t help his sanity much either. If anything, Bakugou felt more drunk and out of his mind now than he had when they’d first shut the door behind them.

There was one other thing Bakugou has always wanted from Todoroki. One thing that had always bothered him, itching under his skin, a craving Bakugou didn’t feel like fucking acknowledging most of the time.

Now it became a goal that felt all-consuming, Bakugou’s focus narrowed down to a singular task—

-- to hear Todoroki make some kind of fucking noise, some sort of sound, that let Bakugou know he was losing his carefully maintained composure.

He inched his hand up higher, running his fingers along Todoroki’s scalp while his other hand wrapped around the side of his neck, thumb coming to rest against his pulse point and tipping his jaw slightly to give Bakugou more control over the kiss.

He bit down against Todoroki’s bottom lip sharply, hard enough to make him gasp, warm breath gusting over Bakugou’s face in a rush and sending a pang of something hot straight to his groin.

Bakugou slid his tongue over the injury slowly, soothing, sinful, before dipping into Todoroki’s mouth to press against his own.

Todoroki moaned into Bakugou’s mouth, long and low, sounding shocked and broken. A spike of victory surged through him as he swallowed up the sound greedily, wanting more, desperate for more.

He was so focused on his win, in fact, that he didn’t notice when Todoroki’s own hands finally left the wall until they came up to grasp his hips firmly, Todoroki positioning their bodies so they were pressed together completely. His hands dropped lower to squeeze at Bakugou’s ass, Todoroki rolling his hips forward against his own with very deliberate and suggestive intent.

Bakugou broke the kiss, pulling back with a shocked gasp, not used to someone else being so—so fucking forward and demanding with him, and it felt—it was surprisingly—

Todoroki’s mouth dropped to the side of Bakugou’s neck, his tongue laving wetly at the straining muscle there before biting down possessively.

Bakugou would have been embarrassed at his own moan if he weren’t so fucking gone over how good everything felt.

On the next roll of Todoroki’s hips, Bakugou pressed back, grinding up against him. He tugged sharply at Todoroki’s hair, pulling his head back and exposing the long line of his throat, Todoroki hissing at the roughness and simultaneously grinding against Bakugou even harder as a result, like he enjoyed it, like they were on the same wave length and Bakugou had never felt quite like this with someone else.

“Fuck, fuck,” Bakugou mumbled, his mouth finding purchase on Todoroki’s exposed collar bone and giving a sharp suck, wanting to leave a mark, hoping to leave a mark that he could see later and know this was real and not some fucking insanely good figment of his imagination and hormones or something. “So good,” he breathed without thinking, moving up to kiss at the underside of Todoroki’s jaw.

At the praise, Todoroki actually whined, eyes squeezed shut as his breath left him in erratic panting that seemed both too loud and not loud enough to Bakugou’s ears.

The sound drove Bakugou wild, and he groaned, fist tightening in Todoroki’s hair and giving another pull in an effort to get him to cry out again.

Todoroki moved so fast Bakugou barely had time to register that movement was actually even happening before he found himself roughly pinned to the opposite wall of the closet, Todoroki’s hands gripping at his jaw as he brought their mouths together again, seemingly desperate for more.

Desperate was a good word to describe Bakugou’s own feelings, though he’d never fucking admit that.

Somehow, without his conscious thought, things had shifted from trying to get a rise out of each other to simply not being able to get enough of each other. Bakugou could barely hold a thought in his head for more than a few seconds at a time, Todoroki’s hands all over him and Bakugou’s roaming the broad expanse of his shoulders in turn, the sharp jut of his hips, the swell of his ass as Todoroki ground down against him—hard, Bakugou thought, mind reeling. He’s hard. They were both way too turned on for him to even process, everything feeling so easy and natural and really fucking good.

“We’re doing this again,” he gasped out.

Ah,” Todoroki cried out as Bakugou bit down on the side of his neck once more. “Yes. Definitely.”

Bakugou never would have imagined the day he willingly volunteered to spend any amount of time in Todoroki’s company, and yet here he was. He wanted to blame it on the alcohol. He also knew he really, really couldn’t.

“Jesus christ,” Bakugou hissed, “Why are we in a closet. Wanna fuck you where I can see.”

Todoroki shuddered against him, Bakugou rapidly losing control of his mouth and more importantly not caring. “Lay you out. Open you up real slow. Make you beg.”

Todoroki seemed like he was barely holding it together, rutting against Bakugou almost mindlessly now, his grip around Bakugou’s hips nearly bruising.

Bakugou wasn’t fairing much better, and was in no way upset about that fact. He choked back a sound when Todoroki ground against him just right, their erections pressed directly against one another, and god Bakugou didn’t realize he liked being manhandled this much but fuck if this wasn’t the best thing he’d ever experienced.

“Shit, wanna see you in the light,” he rasped. “You’re so fucking pretty, what the fuck.”

Todoroki made a sound that was less of a moan and more of a sob, gasping for breath.

Blinding fucking light suddenly washed over them both.

“Time’s up!” a voice announced, far too cheerful. “Are you guys okay in—oh. Oh, wow.”

Bakugou turned his head from where it had been buried in Todoroki’s shoulder, loosening his grip in Todoroki’s hair—he hadn’t even realized his hand had found its way back there, honestly, but Todoroki’s hair was hard to resist.

Before them stood a majority of the group, varying looks of shock and amusement on their faces. Several of them had their phones out, Bakugou noted distractedly.

No one seemed to be able to say anything. No one moved.

They were both gasping, faces red, clothing rumpled and half falling off of them, bodies pressed together and tangled up in one another from head to toe.

Couldn’t fault anyone for staring at that, he supposed.

Bakugou disentangled himself from Todoroki just enough to grab the handle of the door. “Not done,” he said, voice hoarse.

Ashido opened her mouth, eyes wide. “Um, that’s not really—“

He promptly slammed the door shut in their faces, plunging the two of them back into darkness.

“Are they really—“ Bakugou heard someone start on the other side of the door. He could hear Kirishima laughing, ugly snorts that Bakugou was secretly more fond of than he let on. He heard Midoriya’s voice telling everyone to just let them be for a while, and for once in his life found he was grateful to Deku for something.

Above him, Todoroki huffed a laugh against the crown of his head, still trying to catch his breath.

“What?” Bakugou whispered. “Got a problem with me shutting the door, asshole?”

He could feel Todoroki shaking his head. “Not at all,” he said, voice laced with amusement. “I was just about to do the same thing.”


“Oh,” he mumbled aloud, his hands slowly sliding up Todoroki’s sides. “Guess you’re not as stupid as you look, then.”

Todoroki’s hand tangled in Bakugou’s hair, pulling back enough that Bakugou was forced to look him in the eye, for all the good that did them in the dark. “Guess you’re not as unskilled at this as I thought,” Todoroki said, but it sounded suspiciously fond.

Bakugou smiled before pulling him down for another kiss, hoping Todoroki wouldn’t notice.

Parties were maybe less bad than he would’ve thought, Bakugou decided. Still fucking stupid, of course. But they couldn’t be all bad if they ended in this.