It started during a fight. Idiot Deku gets something on his fingers—honey from some damn villain’s bee quirk, Bakugou thinks after—and, like the idiot he is, he licks it off, small pink tongue tracing over his fingertips. They glisten with salvia for a few seconds, drying off in the breeze as he goes to attack, but the image circles in Bakugou’s mind like a damn carousel for minutes afterward.
At lunch, Deku wipes a splatter of grape juice off his chin, sucking his index finger gently, as gingerly as if he’s afraid he may snap the damn thing off, into his mouth. It escapes with a pop that Bakugou swears he hears echo through the building. His lips stay in a perfectly formed O for just a few milliseconds, and it enrages Bakugou how slow they pass.
During class, the damn broccoli-headed loser is mumbling during a study break. He was the only one who still had his face buried in his book. Words were flying out from behind the thumb pressed to his bottom lip, shiny under the classroom’s fluorescent lighting.
Bakugou doesn’t even get a goddamn break when they’re in the dorm, and after seeing Deku suck a popsicle deep down his throat, he explodes a pillow, storming off in a flurry of feathers. He hears a yelp come from those damn lips, and Bakugou sneers as he stomps up the stairs.
Usually, his night would have consisted of extra study time or perhaps a workout, but tonight the agenda consists of fruitless distraction. He tries to read, but a kissing scene three pages in makes him chuck the book across the room. He considers playing video games, but the only one he’s interested in has a character with wild green hair and he can’t bring himself to ignore how similar to Deku they were. So, eventually, he settles on scrolling listlessly through social media.
Bakugou rarely checked or updated his accounts––a rare tweet or photo post was enough to keep his accounts sufficiently active, for his taste, but it was fun to occasionally see what the extras felt was important enough to blast to the entire fucking world. He stopped scrolling relatively early, allowing himself to linger on a recently posted selfie from Deku. He was grinning, popsicle in hand, lips puffy and bright cherry red from sucking on the treat. Bakugou wondered how hard he’d been sucking on the damn thing; how far had it speared down his throat, and had he choked? Had the loser gagged, pulling it out with tears blooming and his lips––
Bakugou swallows, thickly, closing the app in a panic. He tries to shake the mental image away, but it had become burned in his mind.