Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11564304.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      僕のヒーローアカデミア_|_Boku_no_Hero_Academia_|_My_Hero_Academia
  Relationship:
      Bakugou_Katsuki/Midoriya_Izuku
  Character:
      Bakugou_Katsuki, Midoriya_Izuku
  Additional Tags:
      Drunk_Sex, Masochism, Sadism, S&M, Rough_Sex, No_Aftercare, Katsuki_is
      bad_at_feelings, Bad_Decisions, dubcon?_sorta?, Teens_being_dumb, No_One
      Can_Admit_They_Love_Each_Other, Katsuki_has_a_dirty_mouth, Sexual
      Application_of_Quirks, BDSM, Eventual_Proper_Aftercare, Eventual_Happy
      Ending, I_guess_this_isn't_a_Oneshot_anymore
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-21 Updated: 2017-07-26 Chapters: 2/? Words: 5775
****** Humpty Dumpty ******
by FluffyHorror
Summary
     Izuku asks Katsuki to break him, and he does.
     Katsuki doesn't stick around to help pick up the pieces.
Notes
     Haha woooow this got dark and angsty real fast. Trying a different
     style of writing than I usually do. Might post a fix-it follow up to
     this eventually, but I just love the angst too much. *o*
***** The Great Fall *****
Deku is seventeen and thinks he knows what he wants.
Pain has been a constant in his life, emotional and physical, first with the
relentless bullying, then with the inadequate control he had over his newly
inherited Quirk, finally with the constant training and fighting he endures and
thrives on to reach his goal, to become a hero. It has never bothered him. He
lives off the adrenaline.
It isn’t until he stumbles upon a certain video that it becomes transformative.
 
---
 
He is sixteen, alone in his dorm room and browsing porn in the dark, one hand
stroking idly up and down his erection. Izuku is no stranger to this activity,
he is a healthy teenage boy, he has urges, desires. He appreciates the curve of
a breast, refined feminine features, but also discovered at the age of fifteen
that he likes smooth expanses of muscle, stubbled faces and rough fingers just
as much. This never bothered him, they are beyond the age where things like
that ever mattered to people.
The hand palming his cock is lazy, indulgent, Deku hasn’t decided on a video or
a picture yet, clicking on links that seem interesting, watching for a few
moments, gaze flicking over male and female bodies with equal appreciation,
then going to the next when they don’t immediately capture his full attention.
He means to click on an innocuous video purportedly about a big-breasted
‘heroine’ whose costume resembles Mount Lady’s just enough to evoke the image,
but not quite enough to disobey copyright laws, subduing a ‘villain’ with a
blowjob. His hand trembles just enough that he clicks on the link immediately
below it, entitled only 'Cheryl Pushed Till She Cries', the preview image a
comely redheaded female on her knees.
Deku moves to click back, thinking that he does not want to see a woman cry,
who would ever find that erotic? He pauses as the video begins. Curiosity
killed the cat.
There is a man, though the focus is not on him. He wears a mask and nothing
else, and the way he strokes over the bare flesh of the woman who kneels on
concrete before him is reverent. She’s already shaking and gasping softly, and
he hasn’t even done anything yet. Deku flinches as he draws his hand back and
strikes her across the face, surprised at the action, shocked even further at
the tiny whimper of wantthe redhead lets out. He doesn’t click away.
Deku watches as she is bound and beaten, spanked with open palms, whipped with
instruments that leave bruises and welts all along her creamy flesh. He waits
for her to ask the man to stop but she only begs for more, words devolving into
incoherent screams of pleasure and pain as the man obliges her, pulls her hair
and fucks her with a brutality that the green-haired teenager has never seen.
Tears are streaming down her cheeks, but she has a smile on her face.
He cums harder than he ever has before, and as he slumps in his chair in front
of the screen, trembling in the aftermath, her screams still echoing in his
ears:
I want that, Deku thinks. I want to be her.
 
---
 
Deku is seventeen and thinks he knows what he wants.
He also thinks he knows who to ask.
 
---
 
They are celebrating, exams are over for this year and everyone has passed.
It’s past curfew and the shared rooms of the dormitories are loud, too loud,
but the teachers don’t come and bother them. Maybe they think they deserve the
celebration.
Minata, of all people, has managed to procure alcohol- several bottles of hard
liquor and a pack of lukewarm beer. Momo grins and makesalcohol, pulls it from
her bare skin, and between the two of them, everyone is at least a little bit
tipsy, if not completely hammered.
Deku has had a little of this and that, a few cans of the generic Momo-beer,
and is pleasantly buzzed enough to not consider the consequences come morning.
He spies Katsuki propping up the wall near the fridge in the shared kitchen
area, sipping from a red solo cup, wine-red eyes glaring at anyone who comes
close. Izuku ignores this warning, stumbling over, a disarming smile worn
across his freckled features.
“Kaachan. Is there any-”
“Fuck off, Deku.” Katsuki cuts off his inquiry, but obligingly opens the fridge
and passes him another beer. Something throbs low in his gut. Ever since that
fateful day when he stumbled upon that video, Bakugou’s verbal abuse has taken
on new connotations for Izuku. He thinks there is something wrong with him. He
doesn’t care.
Instead of going back to the party, the jade-eyed male echoes the blonde’s
posture, leaning against the wall across from him, sipping from the alcohol
that Bakugou has given him. Just looking. As expected, it is only a few moments
before Katsuki snarls, provoked so easily, sending the now-empty red cup in his
hand up in a burst of explosive flame and surging forward, grabbing Deku by the
scruff of his collar and slamming him up against the wall, as if for emphasis.
“The fuck are you looking at?” The volatile teen demands of him, teeth gritted
as though he is trying very hard not to punch Izuku in the face. Izuku wants
him to stop trying. “Nothing.” Deku says calmly, smiles softly, and Katsuki
must be drunker than he thought he was, because he doesn’t even have to
proposition him or flirt or anything,Bakugou just growls and kisses him, a
rough smash of lips-on-lips. Deku’s head hits the wall with the force of
Katsuki’s amorousness, a burst of pain through his skull that makes him keen
against the blonde’s mouth, drop his barely-touched drink and curl his fingers
into the male’s muscle shirt, pulling him closer.
This first kiss is all tongues and teeth, as expected from Bakugou, and when
they part, Izuku’s lips are swollen and bitten, he can taste blood in his
mouth. Yes, Deku thinks, this is what I wanted,but now there is something
strange in Katsuki’s crimson eyes, something that Izuku does not recognize, and
he almost flinches away like a startled doe when the other cups his face in one
hand, runs a rough, calloused thumb over his lips.
“Come on. My room.” Deku says, for lack of a response to this strange new
affectionthat he is not used to seeing in Kaachan. He takes him by the hand and
drags him off to the elevator before he can protest (before Izuku can change
his mind). Katsuki silently follows, but presses him up against the mirrors as
soon as the doors ding closed and the button for ‘2’ is pressed, claiming his
mouth again, fingers threading through the verdant strands of his curls to
prevent his head from hitting the wall once more.
Deku expects the bruising, passionate quality of their first kiss, wants it,but
Katsuki is infuriatingly gentle, sliding his lips against Izuku’s slowly,
teasingly, tongue languidly exploring the wet cavern of Deku’s mouth that he
has opened so willingly. Izuku whimpers in frustration. The blonde teen
chuckles against his lips, an indulgent sound.
The elevator dings too quickly, Katsuki parts from him and it is Deku’s turn to
be led by the hand, pulled to his own door. Katsuki stands behind him with his
hands on his hips, peppering too-soft kisses down the slender column of his
neck as Izuku struggles to unlock the door with shaking hands, silently
grateful for the liquid courage running through his system. He doesn’t think
he’d be able to go through with this if he were sober.
The door clicks open and he dances inside, out of the reach of Katsuki and his
confusing kisses, though the blonde bombshell is quick on his heels, closing
the door behind him. The curtains are drawn back and the moon is full tonight,
giving Deku enough light to see by as he opens the drawer on his bedside table
and pulls out a bottle of lube, plunking it down on the desk, slamming the
drawer and turning to sit on his bed, glaring at Katsuki defiantly.
Bakugou seems taken aback by this behavior, but shakes his head and smiles,
warmly. Deku thinks it is a far more dangerous look on him than a snarl ever
has been. The teen approaches him on the bed, cups his face in his hands and
kisses him once, tenderly, gently coaxing Deku to slide onto the bed and lie
back properly. He obliges, parting his legs for Katsuki to settle between them,
and waits for the abuse, waits for the pain.
It doesn’t come. Bakugou kisses him so sweetly, undoes the buttons on his shirt
with trembling, worshipful fingers, kisses down his chest. He pauses to scrape
his teeth lightly over a dusky brown nipple, and Deku thinks this is it, but
the bite never comes, and he is left disappointed, aching.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for so long, Deku, fuck, you’re so perfect, so
beautiful.” Katsuki murmurs against the skin of his neck, nuzzling behind his
ear, delicately hauling him up to slide the cloth down Deku’s shoulders,
tossing the shirt aside, skimming rough fingers down his sides, settling Izuku
back down on the bed, covering him with his too-warm body, all gently, too
gently.
I don’t want this. Deku panics. “Stop!” He cries out, shoves Katsuki with
enough force to send the other male reeling back. He sees the hurt and fear
flash in dark red eyes as Bakugou backs off to the end of the bed. “Fuck, I’m
sorry, I thought… Are you ok?” Katsuki asks, Katsuki looks at him like he cares
about him and Deku can’t stomach it, can’t stomach the lie, because he knows
and everyone knows that Katsuki hates him, that the only one Katsuki cares
about is himself.
Izuku swallows and schools the panic off his face, adapts an indifferent
expression, chooses carefully the words that he hopes will make the other teen
snap. “If I wanted to be treated like a girl, I would have gone to Tenya or
Shoto.” An expression of open, raw paincrosses Katsuki’s face, as unfamiliar as
it is agonizing to see, before it is swallowed up by the anger Deku knew he
could evoke.
Katsuki turns and makes to leave.
“Hit me.” Deku commands.
The blonde head whips around so fast, eyes narrowed at Izuku in rage, a bit of
confusion. “Are you fucking joking?” His voice is shaking with barely contained
fury, fists clenching in the All Might themed duvet of Deku’s bed, but Izuku
won’t let him reject him like this, knows now that Katsuki wantshim.
He sits up and surges forward, sinks his teeth into the blonde’s neck until he
tastes blood, grips a tanned, muscular arm hard enough to bruise. “Ow, what the
fuck, Deku!” The other male yells, turns and slams him back into the bed, takes
Midoriya’s wrists in his hands and pins them, and Deku thinks, yes.
“Hit me. Asshole.” Katsuki is surprised enough by the swear that comes out of
Deku’s mouth to do it, backhanding him straight across the face. Pain blooms
immediately, and Izuku knows he will bruise in the morning. Katsuki looks
terrified, as though he will run out of the room right now, but Deku wraps his
legs around the other teen’s waist and moans. The blonde freezes. He can feel
the erection pressed against his stomach that confirms what Deku wants.
“Again.” Deku requests breathlessly. Something ugly swims in the depths of
Katsuki’s crimson eyes, his face twists into a look of disgust, at himself or
at Deku, Izuku doesn’t know, but he obliges. “Yes.” The green-haired teen
groans when the deed is done. Katsuki comes to life atop him.
“Fuck you Deku, you’re fucking sick.” The muscular hero-in-training snarls at
him as he fists his hand in Deku’s hair and yanks,forcing his head back,
slamming his teeth down onto his neck again and again, littering the smooth
skin with blood and bruises. He no longer takes his time, flicking open the
button on the other male’s pants and yanking them down along with his boxers,
not even bothering to take them off all the way, leaving them at his knees as
he flips Deku onto his belly, mauls the back of his neck.
He rakes blunted nails down Izuku’s sides, bites the curve of his ass and
brings an open palm down on the teen’s bared cheeks. Deku jumps and whimpers at
the sting, and he keeps going, bringing down his hand again and again on
Izuku’s ass until it is red and bruised, other hand clenched in the back of
Deku’s green strands, shoving his face down into the pillow, until Deku can’t
do anything but squirm and sob underneath him.
Katsuki pauses when he hears the first hiccup, the unmistakable sign that Deku
is crying. “Is that all you’ve got, Kaachan?” Izuku taunts through his tears,
not wanting him to stop.
The next time he brings his palm down across the fleshy globes of Deku’s ass,
he activates his Quirk and burns his handprint into Midoriya’s skin. “Fuck,
yes, Kaachan.” Izuku moans. “Sick, you’re a sick fucking freak Deku, fucking
getting off on this, you worthless piece of shit, fuck, fucking slut.” Katsuki
spouts a stream of abuse at him as he uncaps the bottle of lube and roughly
shoves a wet finger into Deku’s hole, and all Izuku can do is sigh and spread
his legs. This is what he wanted.
Kaachan prepares him hurriedly, quickly adding a second finger. “Just get on
with it.” Deku demands, and is rewarded by the sound of a zipper opening.
Kaachan hauls him up onto his hands and knees and shovesin, sinking to the hilt
with one rough thrust. Deku can tell he added more lube but still not quite
enough, he feels as though he is being split in two, but Bakugou doesn’t stop,
immediately drawing back and slamming back in, setting a blistering pace.
He smells cooking flesh before he feels the burning sensation on his hips under
Katsuki’s hands. Deku feels like he is going to die from the overstimulation.
Briefly, he worries about the potential damage from the use of Bakugou’s Quirk
on one area for too long, but it seems Katuski has thought of this too,
grabbing for his wrists and wrenching them behind his back, leaving burning
handprints there, too, as Deku’s face hits the pillows. The blonde’s hands roam
everywhere, leaving burns and bruises behind in equal measure as he fucks into
him, and Midoriya knows he will have to see Recovery Girl for this, briefly
wonders how to explain it to her before all thought is fucked out of his head.
The splitting pain in his ass is subsiding, each determined stroke of Katsuki’s
cock hammers into a spot inside of him that is making it impossible to think.
He hovers on the knife’s edge between too much pleasure and too much pain-
Kaachan keeps him so expertly balanced. Katsuki has him by the hair and is
biting at his neck again, whispering a torrent of utter filth into his ear that
Deku can’t quite understand at the moment, he feels as though he is floating
just outside of his body, coasting on a feeling he doesn’t have a name for. He
realizes words are coming from his lips too, just one on repeat, a steady
stream of Kaachan, Kaachan, Kaachan.
It’s so goodand everything he ever wanted, and he doesn’t want it to end, tries
to keep a grip on the coil low in his gut, but he cannot hold back the tides
forever, and he reaches his peak with a hoarse cry, collapsing bonelessly onto
the bed, only semi-aware of the wet puddle of cum soaking his bedspread and his
belly. Katsuki keeps fucking him, but he isn’t there anymore, he is drifting on
clouds.
He starts to come down just as Bakugou tenses over him, spilling into him with
a loud, drawn-out groan, sinking down on top of Deku, crushing him with his
weight. He doesn’t know why, but now that this is done, he welcomes the
closeness, welcomes the warmth. After several moments in which the only sound
that can be heard in the room is their panting as they try to catch their
breath, Katsuki pulls out of him, rolls off.
Shakily, Deku rolls onto his side, wincing as he becomes aware of the agony
covering his skin. He feels every burn, bruise, and cut as the wounds they are,
not as the pleasure they were when he received them. Suddenly he feels lost,
and scared, and empty, like a child again. He thinks of the gentle, trembling
kisses Kaachan gave him at first, thinks I need that right now.
Deku reaches for the blonde. Katsuki pulls away. He gets to his feet, tucks his
softened cock back into his jeans and does them up again. There are no more
clothes to put back on, he hadn’t even removed his shirt. Deku catches one
glimpse of his face in the moonlight, and his heart seizes at the look of
suffering on Bakugou’s face before it’s hidden from him as the male turns away
and walks towards the door.
“Kaachan?” Deku’s voice is trembling and open, raw with insecurity. Katsuki
pauses in the doorway, but doesn’t look back. “Fuck off, Deku. You got what you
wanted, right?” He chokes out. Izuku must be delirious from the alcohol and
sex, because he swearsKatsuki sounds like he’s about to cry.
Deku does cry when the door slams after Bakugou and his footsteps echo down the
hall, curling in on himself and hugging his knees, great sobs wracking his
frame. It had been so good, exactly like he wanted, until it wasn’t.
He wanted someone to break him, and he’d gotten his wish, Bakugou had taken him
apart so expertly, so perfectly. Deku hadn’t thought about after- hadn’t
thought about how to put himself back together. Katsuki had broken him, but he
hadn’t stayed around to pick up the pieces, and as Deku thinks back to the
sorrowful expression on Kaachan’s features and the way his voice had sounded
like it would crack, at the end, Deku thinks that maybe he deserves to pick up
the pieces alone.
I screwed up,Izuku thinks.
Deku is seventeen. He doesn’t know what he wants anymore.
 
---
 
Katsuki is seventeen and in love.
He is so, so happy when he thinks Izuku loves him back.
It hurtsmore than any pain he’s ever felt when he learns that Deku doesn’t want
him the way he wants Deku. He thinks that maybe he can be content with what
Izuku is willing to give him, happy that Deku wants him at all.
Every bruise and burn he puts on the other teen’s flesh smashes his heart to
splinters. Every moan he elicits puts it back together and the cycle begins
anew.
After he has cum and the post-orgasmic haze wears off, Bakugou realizes that
Deku has cracked his ribcage open, torn his heart out of his chest, thrown it
to the ground and crushed it beneath his heel with one fell swoop, in one
night. Katsuki knows he deserves it, knows he doesn’t deserve Deku’s love, not
after what he didto him for so many years. It aches more than he could ever
imagine.
Katsuki has never been good with his emotions. He forces himself to get out of
bed slowly, arrange himself back into some semblance of decency slowly. All he
wants to do is run, but he forces himself to walk. He halts when Izuku calls
out to him and almostbreaks down right then and there. Only his pride and his
fear of rejection stops him from turning around, getting on his knees, and
begging for forgiveness for every hurt he has delivered to Deku over the years.
He doesn’t look back when he tells him to fuck off, keeps his head high as he
slinks back to his room. Bakugou keeps it together until he’s alone in the
darkness. He throws himself onto his mattress, buries his face in his hands.
“I fucked up.” Katsuki whispers to himself, to no one. Then, in the darkness
with the surety that he is alone, he allows himself to cry.
 
 
***** All The King's Horses *****
Chapter Summary
     Shorter, with 100% less sex, about the same amount of angst, and 500%
     more Recovery Girl lecturing Deku about his poor life choices.
Chapter Notes
     I said I might do a fix-it follow up BUT I DIDN'T SAY HOW MANY
     CHAPTERS IT WOULD TAKE TO FIX (probably three or four chapters to
     fix. Because I like angst but I don't like writing long chaptered
     fics).
     Also took GREAT LIBERTIES with the job capacities and privileges of
     being a school nurse. You can't actually get a blood test done by
     your school nurse, guys. Recovery Girl is the exception.
He falls asleep with the tracks of his tears staining his face and his pants
still around his knees.
Deku does not want to wake up, but the morning light blazes stubbornly into his
eyes, and his body is on fire. He pushes himself up with bruised, burnt arms,
moves to sit on the side of the bed. Izuku begins the delicate process of
easing his pants back up over his hips and doing them up, a slow event filled
with winces and sharp sucks of air. Finally, he stands, and makes his way over
to the mirror.
He does not know how to feel about what he sees.
Deku has always admired bruises and marks, on his skin, in particular- he
thinks it is part of this Thing, this dark desire he has, or thought he had, he
doesn’t know anymore. He likes that these ones are shaped like handprints. He
doesn’t like how looking at them, feeling them, makes his heart feel heavy. And
besides, Izuku has the sneaking suspicion that Kaachan took things too far-
that he pushedhim too far, that he didn’t stop him when he should have. He’s
never seen a single porn video or picture with wounds like these.
Most of the handprints are not bruises, they are brands, freshly burned flesh,
and Deku wonders if Recovery Girl will be able to make them go away, or if he
will wear Katsuki’s hands on his skin for the rest of his life. Usually Bakugou
has so much better control of his Quirk than this. It was a bad idea to do this
drunk, Izuku decides. It was a bad idea to do this at all. A voice in his head
whispers. He shakes it off. He doesn’t want to think about that right now.
Deku achingly pulls on a shirt and a long-sleeved jacket at a snail’s pace,
thankful that it is Saturday, and there are no classes today. Hopefully
Recovery Girl will still be in her office. He pops a few painkillers, grabs his
shower things, a change of clothing, and shuffles down to the showers, hoping
people will attribute his awkward, hunched saunter as him being hungover from
the party last night. He hopes that he does not see Katsuki.
Luck is on his side today, he manages to make it to the boy’s bathrooms without
anyone stopping him andwithout seeing Kaachan. Everyone else seems to be in the
state they assume him to be, wandering around like zombies, clutching at their
heads and coffee cups in equal measure. Perhaps Izuku is also hungover, and
just doesn’t notice it because of how much pain the rest of him is in.
He takes off his clothes in the shower stall, not wanting anyone to walk in and
see him, not wanting to field the inevitable game of twenty questions that
would come with the sight. Izuku cleans himself as fast as he can manage with
his wounds screaming at him every time he moves, and then stands in the shower
with his head down and his eyes closed until the water runs cold.
Eventually, he shuts the water off, dries himself, cringing at the brush of the
towel over damaged skin, and puts on clean clothing- nothing nice, just
sweatpants and a shirt and hoodie, all this moving around has reopened several
injuries from last night, and he’s bleeding again. Deku doesn’t want to get
blood on any good clothing.
The shower has lulled him into a false sense of security, and when he opens the
stall door and steps out to see Bakugou, clad only in a towel around his waist,
about to step into a shower himself, Deku drops his things. He cringes, closes
his eyes, waits for the inevitable nice going, fucking trash or maybe you’re so
fucking clumsy, Deku, but only hears a stall door slam. His eyes open again, to
a closed door. The shower turns on. His heart sinks along with his body as he
kneels to collect his things.
So. He’s reached the point where Kaachan hates him so much he won’t even talk
to him anymore. A year ago or longer, this would have felt like a victory- no
more verbal abuse. No more being told to kill myself. Now he just feels empty.
Deku had always hoped somewhere deep down that he and Katsuki could reconcile,
that they could go back to being friends, to the before-time, before Bakugou’s
Quirk developed and he got sour, got mean. That was clearly no longer possible.
He didn’t know whether that was because of last night, or whether he’d been
deluding himself this whole time. He didn’t know which was worse.
The trip back up to his room to drop off his shower things is just as
uneventful as his trip down to the bathrooms was. Mercifully, no one stops him
on his way to the Nurse’s office, a now-familiar path that he could tread in
his sleep. She is not surprised to see that it is him again when he knocks on
the door and is bade enter, looking up from her computer with a resigned frown
upon her weathered features.
“What is it this time, dearie?” Her gaze slides over him with a practiced ease,
assessing his stance, the way he sidles in, frown deepening at the stiff way in
which he moves. She gestures for him to hop up on the examination table and he
does so, reluctantly, so full of shamefor these injuries that he doesn’t even
know where to begin. “I need… Healing.” Deku mumbles, though as he says it he
knows it will not be enough, knows she will want to see his injuries before she
treats him.
Recovery Girl presses a hard candy into the palm of his hand, pats him on the
knee comfortingly, warmth where he so badly needs it. “I’m going to need to
take a look, Midoriya-kun.” He unwraps the sweet with trembling fingers, pops
it into his mouth. Cherry. Pocketing the wrapper, Deku unzips his hoodie and
slides it off his shoulders, following with his shirt before he can lose the
nerve. Her eyes widen, but to her credit, she does not utter a shocked gasp or
any other sounds, seemingly contemplating what she will say to this before she
says anything.
“These aren’t wounds from a fight.” Her eyes meet his, and the question behind
the statement remains unspoken. Her shoulders blister with tension. He doesn’t
have to say his name for her to know who put the marks on his skin. She
recognizes Bakugou’s handiwork all too easily. “It was consensual.” She
relaxes, a fraction of an inch, but worry still creases her features.
“Did you ask him to stop?” Deku jerks his head shakily, an emphatic ‘no’, and
wants to leave it at that, but says more anyway. He doesn’t want Kaachan
getting in trouble for his own perversions. “I asked him to do these things to
me. All of them.” His fingers clench on the end of the table. I liked it. Izuku
hopes she doesn’t make him say it.
The woman sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose between forefinger and thumb.
“Midoriya. I’m not going to judge you. You’re a healthy teenager, and you’re
going to have urges. So long as you both consent and you’re both safe, I’m not
worried. But this,” she gestures to his body, “isn’t safe.” He opens his mouth
to defend his actions somehow, defend his enjoyment of them, but she puts a
hand up to stop him. “I can guess what you were trying to do. There are a lot
of different ways for consenting adults to have sex with each other, and as
long as all of the involved partners are enjoying themselves and being safe,
it’s perfectly healthy. There are a lot of ways to enjoy that sort of thing and
be safe,Midoriya. If you have to see me to heal you after, you’re not being
safe. Anything that requires a trip to a medical professional afterward isn’t
something that you should be doing.” Deku lowers his head again, properly
chastised.
“Did you at least use a condom?” His blush and the sharp look of panic on his
face is answer enough. “I can do a blood test for STIs. The results should
arrive in a week. I’ll call you in if there’s anything abnormal.” Deku nods
meekly and allows her to draw a few vials of his blood, watching as she sticks
premade labels on them, writes on the labels, then puts them in a bin marked
with a ‘Hazardous Materials’ sign. I actually let Kaachan fuck me without a
condom. Shit. He didn’t know how sexually active Katsuki was, and he wasn’t
going to ask. At least Bakugou didn’t have anything to worry about. Izuku is-
was- a virgin.
“I’ll heal you this time. But I don’t want to see you in here with these types
of injuries again. Do your research before you try anything like this again.
Have Young Bakugou do his research, too, if you’re planning on doing it with
him.” Izuku swallows and looks away. “I don’t think there’s any chance of that
happening with him again.” He fights the tears as the Nurse just sighs. “I
won’t tell on you this time. But if you or any of your partners show up with
injuries to this degree in my office again, I’m going to have to notify your
parents.” Izuku blanches. He will do anything to avoid that fate, a fact which
she is well aware of. “Yes ma’am.”
Deku regains his composure as Recovery Girl gently plants a kiss on one of his
hands. He feels the familiar warmth of skin and tissue knitting together at
super-speed, the familiar sleepiness that accompanies such a healing. “You’ll
want to lie down for a few hours when you get back.” She instructs as he shrugs
his shirt and jacket back on, heading for the door.
“Midoriya.” He turns back. “Take these. Just in case.” Proffered in wrinkled
hands is a folded chain of five condoms, the generic kind handed out in
doctor’s offices, and a pamphlet entitled 'SAFE SEX AND YOU'. He blushes and
takes them just so he can escape, shoving the items deep into the pocket of his
hoodie.
The condoms go immediately into his bedside drawer when he gets back to his
room. The pamphlet gets read, a rather vanilla thing on STI and pregnancy
prevention and safety, information he all already knew but apparently forgot
about last night. It’s handy to have. Still. He doesn’t think he’ll be having
sex again anytime soon.
 
---
 
Katsuki decides that he will blow up the sun. He was having such a good time,
ignoring his problems with a dreamless sleep, but the burn of the morning light
is insistent, and like anything that bothers him, he wants it to die. He throws
off a small explosion in its general direction, as if to tell the bright star:
one day.
But not today,the sun seems to say as it continues to needle at his vision
through closed lids. Bakugou agrees. Not today. He gets up.
His head is splitting. Apparently he does not handle alcohol well. His heart
still hurts. Apparently he does not handle feelings well either, but he knew
that. Katsuki makes a decision as he gathers his things for a shower, strips
down, wraps a towel around his waist, immodest to a fault. He will do what he
always does in response to any sort of attempt the world makes to elicit an
emotional, thoughtful response from him. He will respond emphatically with the
only emotion he knows. He will wear his anger like armor, his hatred like a
shield, and nothing will touch him through this fortress he has built around
his heart. It is the only way he knows to pick up these pieces of himself.
Fury. He’s gotten so good at it he can’t remember a time when he wasn’t angry.
Katsuki stalks down to the showers, and everyone gives him a wide berth. There
is already someone inside when he enters, opening an unoccupied stall and
violently tossing his shower kit inside, throwing his change of clothes over
the hook. The occupied stall door swings open as he does so. Out steps Deku.
Crimson eyes meet jade ones before the jade shutters closed. Deku winces. He
has the audacity to cringe from Bakugou, as though Katsuki will hurt him again,
as though he didn’t beg for every strike last night. He didn’t want to hurt him
then, hadn’t wanted to hurt him for a while now, in truth, but oh, oh, right
now, Katsuki wants to hurt him. He wants to seize him by his stupid pretty neck
and wring it, scream at him and slap him and kiss him senseless, kiss him until
he’s soft and pliant again, kiss him and kiss him until he can’t remember how
to be afraid of Katsuki. Until he loves him back.
He doesn’t think Deku would like that. Bakugou already knows that Izuku doesn’t
want his kisses. He wanted his rage, the hatred that he lost long ago and could
not give, and now that he has drank his fill of those things, he doesn’t even
want anything to do with him anymore. Katsuki would feel usedif he didn’t know
he fucking deserved it. All he had ever given Izuku, all their lives, was
hatred and rage. He is not surprised that Izuku doesn’t want anything else from
him. It still hurts.
He wants to kiss him. He does not. He turns and enters the shower, slams and
locks the door behind him, turns the knob onto the hottest setting and steps
in. He listens to the door open and close, listens to the sound of Izuku
leaving, and slowly counts to sixty seconds. Enough time to get to the
elevator. Enough time for him to be alone.
Katsuki screams and punches the wall. His knuckles bruise and bleed. He doesn’t
care.
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