Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The common room was unusually quiet for once, the usual chaos of Class 3-A replaced by a rare moment of peace. On the couch, Shinsou and Bakugou sat together, bathed in the soft glow of the TV. The screen flickered with the images of a random action movie they had put on more for background noise than actual entertainment.  

Bakugou was nestled against Shinsou’s side, his head resting lightly against Shinsou’s chest. A plush blanket was draped over him, the edges tucked snugly around his frame as if he were trying to cocoon himself from the world. He’d grabbed it earlier, muttering something about how “the dorms are freezing,” but Shinsou knew better. The blanket wasn’t just for warmth—it was a shield, a little layer of comfort that made moments like these easier for Bakugou to settle into.  

Shinsou, for his part, had one arm lazily slung over Bakugou’s shoulders, his fingers idly brushing against the blanket-covered skin. His hand rested just enough to keep Bakugou close, but not so tight as to make him feel trapped. The gesture was effortless, unconscious even, but it spoke volumes about how natural this had become for both of them.  

“Y’know,” Shinsou murmured, his voice low and slightly raspy from the comfort of the moment, “you look ridiculously comfortable right now. Never thought I’d see the great Bakugou Katsuki cuddled up like this.”  

Bakugou didn’t even bother to lift his head, though a low growl rumbled from his chest. “Tch. Keep talking, and I’ll blow you up, blanket and all.”  

Shinsou chuckled, the vibration from his laughter rumbling through Bakugou. “Sure you will, Firecracker .”  

“Stop calling me that,” Bakugou grumbled, but his tone lacked any real heat. Instead, he shifted slightly, burrowing just a little deeper against Shinsou’s side as if to contradict his own protests.  

The action made Shinsou smile softly, his free hand coming up to gently ruffle Bakugou’s messy blond hair. “Admit it, you like it. You’re soft, Bakugou. I’m just lucky I’m the only one who gets to see it.”  

Bakugou finally lifted his head to glare at him, but the effect was completely ruined by the faint pink dusting his cheeks. “I’m not soft. I’m practical. It’s warm, and you’re here, so shut up.”  

Shinsou raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Right. Totally not because you enjoy being all wrapped up with me.”  

“Keep running your mouth, and I’ll—” Bakugou started, but Shinsou cut him off with a light kiss to the top of his head. The unexpected gesture made Bakugou freeze, his words dying on his lips.  

“There,” Shinsou said, smirking as he settled back against the couch. “That oughta keep you quiet for a bit.”  

Bakugou huffed, burying his face against Shinsou’s shoulder to hide the way his blush deepened. “You’re such a pain,” he muttered, though the way his hand clutched at the edge of Shinsou’s hoodie betrayed his real feelings.  

“And yet, here we are,” Shinsou teased, his arm tightening just slightly around Bakugou’s shoulders.  

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, the soft hum of the TV filling the room. Every now and then, Shinsou’s fingers would brush against Bakugou’s hair or shoulder, small, absentminded touches that somehow felt more intimate than anything grand or elaborate.  

After a while, Shinsou noticed Bakugou shifting slightly against him. At first, it was subtle—just a small adjustment here, a lean there—but as the minutes ticked by, Bakugou’s movements grew more frequent. He squirmed ever so slightly, shifting from side to side under the blanket, his fingers occasionally fidgeting with the edges of the fabric.  

Shinsou smirked, his curiosity piqued. “Alright, Firecracker, spill it. What’s got you all wiggly? Thought you were supposed to be the king of sitting still and looking cool.”  

Bakugou froze mid-shift, his eyes darting to the side as if he could will himself invisible. “I’m not ‘wiggly,’ dumbass,” he muttered, though the faint pink tint creeping up his neck told a different story. “And I don’t need to ‘spill’ anything.”  

“Uh-huh,” Shinsou replied, his voice dripping with amusement. He shifted slightly himself, pulling Bakugou a little closer, which only seemed to make the blond fidget more. “You’ve been squirming for the last ten minutes. You uncomfortable or something? Or are you just trying to drive me insane with all that moving around?”  

“I’m fine,” Bakugou snapped, though his tone lacked its usual bite. He turned his head away, his jaw clenched like he was trying to physically hold back whatever was threatening to escape his lips.  

Shinsou wasn’t about to let it go. “Come on, spit it out. What’s up?”  

There was a long pause before Bakugou finally grumbled something under his breath, too low for Shinsou to catch.  

“What was that?” Shinsou asked, leaning down slightly, his smirk widening. “Didn’t quite hear you.”  

Bakugou huffed, his glare returning full force even as his blush deepened. “I said, the damn blanket’s too hot, alright?!”  

Shinsou blinked, then burst out laughing, the sound deep and rich. “The blanket? That’s what’s been bothering you this whole time? You could’ve just said so!”  

Bakugou scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s not the blanket,” he muttered, though the way he glared down at the offending fabric betrayed him. “It’s—it’s you, too. You run hot or something? Feels like I’m sitting next to a damn space heater.”  

Shinsou raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh, so now it’s my fault?”  

“Yes!” Bakugou snapped, though the way he refused to meet Shinsou’s gaze made it clear he knew how ridiculous he sounded. “You’re all warm and shit. Makes it hard to sit still.”  

Shinsou chuckled, shifting his arm to drape even more heavily over Bakugou’s shoulders. “I see. Guess I’ll just have to cool you down, then.”  

Before Bakugou could protest, Shinsou reached out and tugged the blanket away, tossing it onto the other end of the couch. The sudden coolness made Bakugou shiver slightly, and he glared up at Shinsou, his lips parted to deliver some sharp retort.  

But Shinsou leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Bakugou’s temple, and the words caught in the blond’s throat. “Better?” Shinsou asked, his voice soft but teasing.  

Bakugou huffed, clearly flustered, but his lips twitched upward in the smallest of smiles. “Tch. Whatever,” he muttered, leaning back against Shinsou despite himself.  

Shinsou smirked, satisfied, and pulled Bakugou closer again, this time without the stifling blanket. “That’s what I thought.”

It was not better. It was 100% not better, Bakugou screamed internally, his face an uncharacteristic mix of annoyance and panic. The blanket, as oppressive as it had been, had at least provided some kind of buffer between him and the chaos that was Shinsou. Now, without it, things were worse. Much worse.  

For starters, the remote was probably tangled up in the discarded heap of blankets at the end of the couch. Great. Perfect. Stupid Shinsou and his stupid smug grin, just ripping it away like some kind of—whatever. Bakugou didn’t even care about the damn remote, except now he couldn’t think about anything else because— 

Because now he was still squirming.   

But this time, it wasn’t away from Shinsou. Oh no. This time , Bakugou realized with mounting horror, he was shifting toward him.  

His movements were subtle—small, almost imperceptible scoots—but they were noticeable enough for Shinsou to raise an eyebrow, his amusement growing with every inch Bakugou unknowingly closed between them.  

“You sure you’re okay, Firecracker?” Shinsou asked, his voice low and teasing, laced with that maddening rasp that made Bakugou’s stomach flip. He tilted his head, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. “You’re all over the place tonight.”  

Bakugou froze mid-scoot, his body stiffening as if he’d been caught committing a crime. “I’m fine!” he snapped, his voice louder than he intended. “Quit asking me stupid questions!”  

Shinsou chuckled, clearly unbothered by the outburst. “Right. Totally fine,” he drawled, his smirk widening. “That’s why you’re practically in my lap.”  

Bakugou’s brain short-circuited at the accusation. His eyes darted to the space—or lack thereof—between them. His thigh was pressed firmly against Shinsou’s, and their shoulders were nearly touching. Shit .  

“I’m not in your lap, dumbass!” Bakugou snarled, his cheeks burning. He shoved at Shinsou’s arm, though the effort was half-hearted at best. “You’re just—sitting wrong! Move over!”  

Shinsou’s laugh was deep and genuine this time, and it sent an unwelcome warmth curling in Bakugou’s chest. “Sitting wrong? That’s a new one,” Shinsou said, clearly enjoying himself. He shifted slightly, leaning back just enough to give Bakugou a little more space—but only a little.  

The extra room didn’t help. If anything, it made Bakugou feel even more awkward, like he was suddenly hyperaware of how close they were, how warm Shinsou’s presence was, how his stupid lavender shampoo or cologne or whatever it was smelled way too good— 

“Bakugou,” Shinsou interrupted his spiraling thoughts, his voice softer this time. “Seriously. What’s up? You’re not usually this fidgety.”  

Bakugou opened his mouth to fire back with something cutting, something to deflect, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists as he glared down at the couch cushions like they were the source of all his problems.  

“It’s nothing,” he muttered finally, his voice tight.  

Shinsou watched him for a moment, his smirk fading into something gentler. “You’re a terrible liar,” he said quietly, his arm sliding back around Bakugou’s shoulders in a way that felt less teasing and more grounding.  

The gesture caught Bakugou off guard, and he stiffened, his heart hammering in his chest. He wasn’t used to this—this softness, this patience. It was infuriating and disarming all at once.  

“Just—drop it, alright?” Bakugou said, though the edge in his voice was softer now, almost pleading.  

Shinsou was about to let it go, give Bakugou his moment to stew in his own fiery awkwardness, but then he caught the blond glancing—not at him, surprisingly—but at the discarded pile of blankets. His crimson eyes flickered toward the tangled mess more than once, a subtle, almost longing look that made Shinsou pause.  

Thinking he’d misjudged and maybe Bakugou wanted the blankets back after all, Shinsou reached forward without a word, grabbing the nearest corner to pull them back over.  

But as he yanked the blankets, a clacking sound echoed against the floor.  

Both of them froze.  

Shinsou glanced down, his gaze catching on the shiny object that had fallen free of the blanket heap. Slowly, realization dawned on him as his eyes settled on the remote lying innocently on the floor.  

“...Seriously?” Shinsou said, breaking the silence. He picked up the remote and turned it over in his hand before holding it up for Bakugou to see. “This is what you’ve been squirming over for the last twenty minutes?”  

Bakugou’s face went scarlet, his eyes widening in a mix of embarrassment and indignation. “Shut up!” he barked, his voice cracking slightly. “I wasn’t—! It’s not—!”  

Shinsou leaned back, smirking as he examined the remote like it was some fascinating artifact. “You mean to tell me,” he began, his tone far too casual, “that you’ve been acting like a restless five-year-old this whole time because of this ?” He wiggled the remote for emphasis, making Bakugou’s blush deepen.  

“Give it back!” Bakugou snapped, lunging for it.  

But Shinsou, ever the menace, leaned away just in time, keeping the remote just out of reach. “Oh no,” he said, grinning like a cat with a cornered mouse. “You’ve been squirming and glaring at those blankets for ages , and I didn’t even realize it was because of this tiny thing. You’re gonna explain yourself first.”  

“There’s nothing to explain, idiot!” Bakugou growled, his fists clenching. He looked seconds away from either combusting on the spot or tackling Shinsou to the ground. “Just—just give it here!”  

Shinsou tilted his head, clearly enjoying himself. “Say please.”  

Bakugou looked like he was going to explode. “ What ?!”  

“You heard me,” Shinsou said, his grin widening. “Say. Please.”  

Bakugou stubbornly stared at him, shaking his head, not making a sound. Refusing to beg. 

Shinsou’s grin turned downright devilish as he held the remote like it was a weapon, his thumb hovering theatrically over the buttons. “What was that?” he asked innocently, feigning confusion. “Didn’t catch that last part, Firecracker.”  

Bakugou’s face was a mix of panic and stubbornness, his jaw tightening as if he were physically restraining himself from giving in. “Don’t you dare,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, though the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed his flustered state.  

Shinsou tilted his head, his grin widening. “Oh, I wouldn’t. I’m just... curious, y’know?” His thumb inched closer to a random button, his expression gleefully wicked. “Wonder what this one does.”  

“HEY!” Bakugou snapped, his hands twitching like he was torn between snatching the remote away and staying exactly where he was. “Wait—don’t—Shinsou, I swear to—”  

Shinsou gave him a smug look before pressing down on the button.  

Bakugou didn’t stand a chance.  

“ Please, don’t— !” Bakugou’s protest turned into a sharp gasp as his body tensed, his head snapping back against the couch. His muscles spasmed briefly, a shiver running down his spine as the jolt from whatever function Shinsou had accidentally—or intentionally—activated surged through him.  

For a moment, the room was silent save for Bakugou’s heavy breathing. Then:  

“ Shinsoooooou !” Bakugou roared, though his voice cracked at the end, making it sound less intimidating and more mortified. (It was a moan don't let him try fool you) 

Shinsou burst out laughing, the sound deep and rich as he quickly moved the remote out of Bakugou’s reach. “Okay, okay, that was too good,” he wheezed, his free hand clutching his stomach. “You actually said ‘please.’ Didn’t think you had it in you, Katsuki.”  

Bakugou was still catching his breath, his face a vivid shade of red as he glared daggers at Shinsou. “You’re dead,” he growled, though his voice was shaky, and he couldn’t quite hide the way his lips twitched like he was trying not to smile.  

Shinsou held up the remote defensively, still grinning like the cat who’d caught the canary. “Hey, you said it,” he teased, wagging the device playfully. “Can’t take it back now.”  

Bakugou lunged forward, making a grab for the remote, but Shinsou was quicker, dodging to the side with a laugh. “Give me that, you bastard!”  

As Bakugou lunged, Shinsou dodged deftly to the side, his laugh echoing through the room. “You’ll have to try harder than that, Firecracker!” he teased, his thumb casually hovering over the remote.  

Bakugou’s eyes widened in warning. “ Don’t you dare— ”  

But Shinsou, being Shinsou, grinned devilishly and pressed another button without hesitation.  

Whatever function he’d activated sent Bakugou jolting upright with a muffled grunt, his entire body tensing for a moment before he slumped back against the couch, panting. His face was beet red, and his wide, furious eyes locked onto Shinsou like a predator sizing up its prey.  

“ Shinsou !” Bakugou moaned, his voice half a growl and half a squeak, which only made Shinsou’s grin widen.  

“Wow,” Shinsou drawled, holding up the remote like it was a prized possession. “I should’ve gotten one of these years ago. You’re so much more... manageable.”  

Bakugou twitched, his hands curling into fists as he tried to recover some semblance of dignity. “I’m gonna kill you,” he muttered, trying to make his voice low and dangerous. But it was hard with all the heavy breathing and muffled whimpers Bakugou kept letting out.

Shinsou just laughed, his smugness reaching critical levels. “Oh, come on. Admit it—you’re having fun.” He wiggled the remote teasingly, his eyes gleaming. “Or should I press another one to really get the point across?”  

“ Don’t you dare touch that thing again, ” Bakugou growled (pleaded), his voice rising into whine territory.  

Naturally, Shinsou pressed another button.  

As Bakugou struggled to regain his composure, Shinsou continued to dangle the remote just out of his reach, his smirk widening with every pained grunt Bakugou let out.  

“You’re so easy to mess with,” Shinsou teased between his laughs, the sound echoing through the room. “Didn’t even see that coming, did you?”  

Bakugou, still trying to fight off the residual effects from whatever button Shinsou had pressed, gritted his teeth, his legs trembling as he desperately grabbed onto the edge of the couch to stabilize himself. “ Hitoshi ,” he nearly growled, his voice still cracking with a mix of indignation and... well, something else that made his face burn hotter. His legs shook violently, and for a moment, it looked like he might actually lose his balance and faceplant into the couch.  

“Too easy,” Shinsou repeated, thoroughly enjoying himself as he leaned back, holding the remote at an almost painfully casual distance from Bakugou.  

But before Bakugou could retaliate, a loud creak echoed through the dormitory. The door opened, and the unmistakable voices of their classmates spilled into the room.  

“Oh, no ,” Bakugou muttered, his eyes widening in sudden panic. His brain went into overdrive as he quickly tried to steady himself, attempting to hide his frazzled state. He couldn’t let anyone see him like this—especially not now, not after that .  

Kaminari’s voice rang out first. “Yo! We’re back from the mall, guys! You wouldn’t believe—oh.”  

The sound of footsteps stopped short, and Bakugou’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest as he realized everyone had caught sight of the two of them.  

Kirishima’s booming laugh followed. “What’s going on in here? Are you two... wrestling ?”  

Shinsou, still leaning comfortably back, smirked at their classmates with no shame. “Nah, just teaching Firecracker some humility,” he replied, a teasing glint still in his eyes.  

Bakugou’s face turned a deep shade of crimson, and he shot up from the couch in one swift motion, stumbling slightly as his legs gave out from under him. He quickly regained his balance, standing up so fast he nearly knocked over the coffee table. “ Shut up, ” he snapped, still embarrassed but trying to salvage whatever dignity he had left.  

“Woah,” Kaminari said, his tone oddly casual as if he had walked into this scene a million times before. “I swear, you two are more dramatic than my phone when it’s low on battery.”  

The rest of the class, who had begun to gather in the doorway, were a mix of confused and amused. Momo raised an eyebrow, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Is everything alright in here, Bakugou? You seem a little... flustered.”  

Bakugou clenched his fists, his teeth gritting as he turned to face Shinsou, who was not helping by looking entirely too pleased with himself. “ I’m fine ,” Bakugou muttered through clenched teeth, trying to shake off his embarrassment.  

Shinsou, clearly enjoying the chaos, leaned forward and placed the remote innocently on the coffee table. “I don’t know, Bakugou,” he said with exaggerated concern, his tone dripping with mischief. “You sure you’re okay? You look like you might pass out any second.”  

“You’re dead!” Bakugou growled, finally rushing toward Shinsou, but not before he was stopped by the chorus of laughter from their classmates.  

“You two are so obvious,” Jirou remarked from the door, shaking her head with a smirk. “You’re like an old married couple already.”  

“Shut up!” Bakugou shouted, fully aware his attempts to save face were only making things worse.  

Kirishima’s voice boomed as he grinned widely. “Oh, I’m loving this! What’s the deal, man? Are you two officially a thing now or what?”  

Shinsou and Bakugou both froze, eyes widening at the sudden directness. Bakugou immediately turned to scowl at him. “Shut up, Shinsou!” he barked, though it wasn’t clear whether he was speaking to his classmate or trying to avoid answering the question.  

Shinsou, as always, was unfazed. He simply gave Bakugou a sly smile, leaning back into the couch and crossing his arms casually. “It’s not my fault you can’t hide anything, Firecracker,” he teased, his voice just shy of mocking.  

Bakugou wanted to explode, but he could only turn away, his face burning as he stormed out of the room in a huff, muttering all sorts of curses under his breath.  

Kaminari watched him go, shaking his head in exaggerated disbelief. “I swear, they’re gonna get together by the end of the month. Bet you 10 bucks.”  

Mina grinned and nodded. “I’m with you on that. It’s way too obvious.”  

Shinsou watched Bakugou’s retreating back with a thoughtful smile, amused by the whole exchange. He gave his classmates a small shrug. “Well, looks like I have my work cut out for me. But hey, it’s gonna be fun.”  

The rest of the class couldn’t help but chuckle as the drama of the day slowly wound down. Shinsou wasn’t wrong. It was going to be one interesting ride.

Completely humiliated yet, somehow, still a little turned on, Bakugou stormed to his room, his fists clenched by his sides as he walked with an exaggerated sense of purpose. The flush on his face didn’t seem to want to fade, and every thought that rushed through his mind made him only more aware of the stupid situation he had found himself in.

What the hell was that? He thought to himself, trying to fight the rush of heat flooding his body. He should be mad—no, he was mad, furious, embarrassed. But there was this lingering feeling deep in his chest that had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with... him . 

Damn Shinsou.

That stupid smirk. Those stupid, teasing words. Bakugou growled low under his breath as he shut his door behind him and tossed himself onto his bed in frustration. He buried his face in his pillow for a moment, groaning into the soft fabric.

God, why the hell did he have to be so... so... Bakugou flopped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn't quite finish the thought. His mind kept returning to how Shinsou had looked at him, the way his voice had dripped with amusement as he messed with him, and that goddamn remote . 

And that smile...

He could still hear it echoing in his head, the teasing, the smug confidence Shinsou had while effortlessly driving Bakugou to the brink of insanity.

Fucking bastard, Bakugou cursed, the thought of Shinsou’s stupid grin making his heart skip a beat, much to his frustration. He groaned again, burying his face in the pillow once more. He wasn’t sure what he hated more: the fact that he had lost the game, or that, deep down, part of him... wanted to lose. Wanted Shinsou to keep teasing him, keep pushing him to the edge like that.

A small sigh left his lips, his thoughts turning to the familiar feeling of frustration that had been hanging over him since that first moment Shinsou had started teasing him. It wasn’t just about the teasing, though; it was something else. Something more.

You idiot , he thought bitterly, burying his face in his hands. This is stupid.  

Bakugou was always in control. Always the one who got the last word, the one who didn’t let anything faze him. But Shinsou? Damn him, Shinsou was somehow the one person who could make him forget about all of that.  

This is fucking ridiculous. Bakugou kicked the sheets off his legs in frustration, then sat up in bed, running a hand through his messy hair. He didn't even know what he wanted. Maybe he'd just forget the whole thing. Pretend it never happened. 

But as he lay there, his mind kept drifting back to Shinsou. The way his voice sounded when he called him "Firecracker" in that teasing, affectionate way. The way Shinsou’s eyes had sparkled with amusement—almost like he knew exactly what Bakugou was thinking, like he could see through the tough exterior and find the mess inside. 

Bakugou clenched his fist, biting back a frustrated groan. Fuck, this is so dumb. He wasn't supposed to be this... soft , this... vulnerable .  

He glanced at the clock on his nightstand. It’s late. Maybe that was it. Maybe he was just exhausted from all the tension and the stupid game. Maybe tomorrow things would go back to normal.

But if Shinsou keeps messing with me , Bakugou thought, his heartbeat accelerating at the thought of their next encounter, I might actually kill him.

But deep down, Bakugou knew it wouldn’t be killing him at all. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit that part of him wanted more—more of the teasing, more of the banter, more of whatever it was that was happening between them. And that was the part of him that terrified him. That part was the one that wasn’t in control.  

Shit , Bakugou muttered under his breath, running a hand down his face. This was so much more complicated than he’d ever expected.  

But as he closed his eyes, he knew one thing for certain: whatever this was, he wasn't ready for it to end just yet.

Bakugou was on the edge of falling into a deep, much-needed sleep when it happened—his entire body jolted awake, a sudden, intense buzz running through him. He froze, his breath hitching as his heart raced in his chest.  

No. No, no, no, he thought wildly. This can’t be happening .  

His mind scrambled for an explanation, but his body didn’t care. The buzz was already taking control, every muscle in his body reacting as if on autopilot. Bakugou’s back arched slightly, his legs kicked restlessly beneath the covers. He tried to suppress the urge to squirm, but it was no use.  

Fuck, fuck, FUCK.   

His brain was still half-locked in the haze of sleep, but the sensation was enough to force him awake in an instant. It was all too familiar—way too familiar. The buzzing, the jolt of electricity that ran through his veins like fire.  

Shinsou , Bakugou realized, his face flushing a deep red as the realization started to set in.  

He could feel it—the remote was still in Shinsou’s hands, and whatever button he had pressed earlier was pressed again, now pulsing inside him. Every nerve in his body was on high alert, and the worst part was, he couldn’t stop it. He flailed around in his bed, trying to free himself from the sensation, but his body refused to obey.  

"Ah— fuck —Shinsou, you bastard!" Bakugou tried to shout, though his voice came out a strangled moan, his body jerking involuntarily. He threw the blanket off himself, kicking and twisting in every direction as if he could escape it. But there was no escape.  

His legs were shaking again, but this time, it wasn’t from his usual anger. No, this time, his legs were trembling from the buzzing feeling inside him, pushing him to the edge of insanity.  

Bakugou squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus, trying to stop the involuntary reactions of his body, but it was impossible. He could feel every muscle in his body tensing, his body fighting against the sensation, but still, the buzzing persisted.  

He could almost hear Shinsou’s voice in his mind, the smug bastard probably enjoying every second of this. Just wait until I get my hands on him, Bakugou thought, his teeth gritting together. Just wait.   

But for now, all he could do was flail around helplessly in his bed, sweating and cursing under his breath as his body refused to listen to his commands. Every inch of him felt like it was on fire, the buzzing sensation coursing through him relentlessly.  

" Hitoshi !" Bakugou whimpered, his voice thick with desperation and embarrassment. " You better— hgnn quit —ah~ it !"  

"Wow"

Bakugou froze mid-squirm, his eyes wide in disbelief as Shinsou's voice rang out from the doorway. His breath hitched in his throat, his face burning bright red. No. No way . He couldn’t believe it.  

Shinsou was leaning casually against the doorframe, a smug grin playing at the corners of his lips as he watched Bakugou thrash around in bed like he was losing his damn mind. And that smirk —it was too much .  

“Aww, you sure, kitten?” Shinsou’s voice was low, teasing, completely unfazed by Bakugou’s obvious struggle. “Looks like you feel good though.”  

Bakugou’s mind was a mess. It was as if his brain short-circuited, every coherent thought slipping away as his body continued to twitch and jerk under the overwhelming sensation. His heart was hammering in his chest, and his face felt like it was on fire. He was trapped in the most humiliating, frustrating moment of his life, and Shinsou— Shinsou —was standing there, watching him, enjoying it.  

Fuck .  

Bakugou opened his mouth, trying to form words, but nothing came out. His brain was mush, overwhelmed by the sudden heat spreading through him from both the buzzing and the sight of Shinsou just casually watching him squirm. It felt like everything was slipping through his fingers.  

“H-Hitoshi...” Bakugou’s voice cracked, barely more than a breath as his body spasmed again, the sensations coursing through him intensifying, making his legs shake violently beneath the covers. His hands grabbed the blanket desperately, clutching it in a futile attempt to steady himself.  

Shinsou took a lazy step forward, his grin only widening as he observed Bakugou’s reactions. “C’mon, Katsuki,” he drawled, making no effort to hide the amusement in his voice. “You’re not gonna get away that easy, you know. If you wanted me to stop, all you had to do was ask nicely.”  

Bakugou’s mind was reeling, every nerve firing with frustration. His pride was crumbling faster than he could keep up with, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He hated this. He hated feeling like this—vulnerable, exposed, completely out of control.  

Goddamn it, Shinsou!  

He opened his mouth again, this time his voice coming out a little more forcefully, though still full of heat and embarrassment. “ Quit it.” It came out almost like a plea. Quit messing with me.   

But instead of stopping, Shinsou just smirked again, that damn grin never leaving his face. “Nah, I don’t think I will,” he teased, the remote still securely in his hand. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself, Firecracker.”  

I’m gonna kill him, Bakugou thought, half out of frustration, half out of the growing, burning need that Shinsou’s presence was causing. His body was betraying him, the incessant buzzing making it impossible to stay still. He needed it to stop. But somehow, deep down, he knew it wouldn’t stop. Not until Shinsou decided it was over.   

With a low growl, Bakugou shifted in bed, trying to break free from the sensation, his teeth gritted as the mix of irritation and embarrassment grew. “ Shinsou ,” he grumbled, barely keeping it together, “if you don’t stop now, I swear to god—”  

But Shinsou cut him off, taking another step forward, the remote still in his hand. He knelt beside the bed, his eyes glinting with playful mischief. “You swear to god what, Katsuki?” His voice was a dangerous whisper, low and teasing. “Gonna make me stop, or are you gonna beg me to?”  

The question hit Bakugou like a ton of bricks, and he immediately clamped his mouth shut, his mind racing in a spiral of confusion, anger, and an undeniable, twisted attraction to the situation. His face flushed even deeper, his stomach tightening as he fought against the growing, almost humiliating feeling of wanting to just give in to whatever Shinsou was doing to him.  

And just as Bakugou thought his brain might finally melt entirely, Shinsou leaned in, his lips hovering near Bakugou’s ear, voice just barely above a whisper. “You’re so cute when you’re all flustered, Katsuki. But if you want me to stop...”  

Shinsou paused for a beat, letting the tension stretch out. 

"...You’re gonna have to ask me properly."  

Bakugou’s entire body froze. The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Bakugou couldn’t even breathe. Shinsou was staring at him, waiting for him to break, and the pressure in the room was enough to make him feel like he was on fire from the inside out. Bakugou’s body went still at the realization. He was hyperaware of every nerve in his body, every fluttering heartbeat, and the pulsating heat in his chest that matched the buzzing sensation Shinsou had so cruelly orchestrated. The weight of it all sank in, and for the first time, Bakugou didn’t resist the truth: He wanted it. He needed it. He craved it.  

This wasn’t just about the remote or the teasing or the game. No, it was something deeper, something Bakugou didn’t want to admit, not to Shinsou, not even to himself. The control Shinsou held over him—the way he made Bakugou feel utterly helpless, but at the same time, more alive than ever—it was intoxicating. And no matter how much Bakugou wanted to fight it, a part of him yearned for it, for Shinsou’s control over him, for the way he could make Bakugou feel like he was hanging on the edge of something dangerous , something good , something he couldn’t quite grasp.  

Shinsou’s presence loomed over him, too close, but not close enough. The teasing, the playful smirk—it all felt like a damn magnet pulling Bakugou in. His body, despite his mind’s best efforts to maintain some semblance of control, shifted slightly towards Shinsou as if in silent invitation, craving the pressure of his touch, the undeniable command that Shinsou held over him.  

Bakugou could feel his breath quicken, his chest tightening in that familiar knot of desire and frustration. He didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t want to acknowledge the way his body responded to Shinsou’s teasing. But there was no denying it anymore.  

Shinsou had him wrapped around his finger, and deep down, Bakugou knew he wasn’t going to be able to get away from it, not now.  

With a soft sigh, Bakugou’s shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him for just a second. “Please,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, unsure if he was speaking to Shinsou or to himself. “I want it. Please give me it . Give me what you want.”  

Shinsou’s smirk deepened, but there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes—something almost like satisfaction, though it was carefully masked behind the teasing front. He leaned closer, his breath warm against Bakugou’s ear, and for a moment, Bakugou thought he might lose himself entirely to it.  

“Good boy,” Shinsou whispered, the sound so soft, so sure, it sent a shiver down Bakugou’s spine. “I knew you’d come around, Katsuki.”  

And just like that, the game changed. Shinsou’s hand rested on Bakugou’s arm, gentle at first, but the weight of it, the deliberate pressure, made Bakugou’s heart race. The buzz in his body seemed to grow, but this time it wasn’t just the remote. It was Shinsou’s presence, his proximity, the way everything about him seemed to push Bakugou into something new, something thrilling and terrifying all at once.  

Bakugou’s mind was swirling, every part of him telling him to break free, to take control, but another part of him, the part that had been pushed too far, craved this, needed this.  

The way Shinsou touched him now was different—softer, almost intimate, yet still just as powerful. He could feel the remote still in Shinsou’s hand, the subtle hum of control, but now it didn’t matter. It wasn’t about the game anymore. It was about the feeling of being wanted , of being seen —and as much as Bakugou hated to admit it, he needed it.  

"Toshi…” Bakugou said, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath coming unevenly. It wasn’t a command or a complaint. It was a surrender.  

Shinsou didn’t need to say anything in response. Instead, he leaned in, capturing Bakugou’s lips in a kiss that was less about power and more about connection. It was slow at first, soft, as if Shinsou was savoring the moment, feeling the pulse of Bakugou’s breath against his lips.  

But that softness didn’t last long. Soon, it was as though the dam broke between them. The kiss deepened, grew more urgent, more demanding, until Bakugou was pulling at Shinsou’s shirt, desperate for more, desperate for all of it—the control, the closeness, the fire .  

Bakugou had wanted to fight this. He had wanted to keep his pride intact, keep himself from falling into the trap that Shinsou had set for him. But now, as they kissed, his mind was utterly consumed with the heat of the moment, the way his heart raced and his body burned, and the way Shinsou’s touch made him feel like he was finally in the place he was always supposed to be.  

For once, Bakugou didn’t feel like he had to fight anymore. He didn’t need to resist. Because, somehow, with Shinsou, he had found something far more satisfying than anything he had ever known.  

And deep down, he knew that this—whatever it was—wasn’t going to be over anytime soon. 

This bastard is going to be the death of me, Bakugou thought.

Chapter Text

The next day, Bakugou had barely slept a wink. His mind was running on an endless loop, replaying everything that happened last night. The heated kisses, the tension between them, and the overwhelming flood of emotions he was still trying to make sense of. He could feel the aftermath in his body, the lingering buzz from Shinsou's touch (and... the vibrator), the way his heart had raced, the way his entire body had responded to Shinsou's proximity. The intensity of it all hadn't just faded overnight; it had rooted itself deep inside him, keeping him awake, his mind spinning in circles. 

The heat of their kiss, Shinsou’s breath on his lips, the way Shinsou’s fingers had traced his skin with such purpose... and the way he had let it happen . Bakugou wasn’t the type to let his guard down, but with Shinsou, it felt like his walls were crumbling without warning. He wasn’t used to feeling this exposed , this vulnerable. Usually, he’d be in control, always ready to push people away before they could get too close. It was safer that way, easier. He didn’t need anyone. He didn’t want anyone. But with Shinsou... 

What the hell was this?

Bakugou’s chest tightened just thinking about it. He could still feel the weight of Shinsou’s touch, still hear the way his voice had sounded, teasing, low, sending shivers down his spine. The memory of Shinsou’s grin—half amusement, half something else—haunted him. Bakugou wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of that kind of attention, and yet, something in him wanted more. 

Shinsou was different. He was easy to read in some ways, but in others, he was a mystery that Bakugou couldn’t quite solve. The way Shinsou had held him last night, the way he knew exactly how to push his buttons, how to make him lose himself in the moment—it was all too... much. Too consuming. Too real.

The more he thought about it, the more it unsettled him. What had started as playful banter, a way to mess with each other, had turned into something entirely new. Something... important? Bakugou gritted his teeth, rolling over in his bed, his hand pressing to his face in frustration. 

Shinsou wasn’t supposed to make him feel like this.

He should’ve pushed Shinsou away, should’ve backed off like he always did when things started to get too real. But no, instead, he let Shinsou in . He let him see parts of him he didn’t even let himself see. And now he was trapped in this tangled mess of feelings that he couldn’t untangle. He could barely look Shinsou in the eye without his heart racing or his fists clenching. The last thing Bakugou wanted was to show weakness, to show that he cared about something, someone , when he was used to being untouchable. He’d built his entire life around that notion, and now it was all slipping through his fingers like sand.

Was it because he liked Shinsou? That was a terrifying thought. Bakugou wasn’t the type to fall for someone. He’d never let himself. He’d never given anyone a chance to break through the thick armor he’d wrapped himself in. But Shinsou... Shinsou was different. 

Bakugou growled in frustration, rolling out of bed and pacing around his room. There had to be a way to fix this. He couldn’t let himself get caught up in something he didn’t understand. But every time he tried to rationalize it, every time he tried to remind himself that this could just be some weird fluke, he found himself thinking about Shinsou again. That moment. The kiss. The way they had connected, almost too easily, like it was inevitable.

"Goddammit," he muttered, his voice rough with annoyance. His fists clenched at his sides. "This is bullshit."

Bakugou stopped pacing, staring at his reflection in the mirror across from him. He could see it in his own eyes. The conflict. The frustration. The craving for something more, something real, even though he didn’t want it. Even though it terrified him.

It was clear he wasn’t getting rid of these thoughts anytime soon. The question was, how long could he keep pretending he didn’t care? How long could he keep denying what was right in front of him?

When Bakugou entered the common room the next morning, his eyes immediately flicked toward Shinsou, who was sitting on the couch— that couch. The one that had started this entire crisis, the one where everything had shifted between them. Bakugou swore to himself that he would never look at that couch the same way again. His stomach churned at the memory, a flush of heat crawling up his neck. The images, the sensations, flooded his mind all over again, and— fuck . He could already feel himself twitching and clenching at the thought, a rush of heat hitting his face despite himself. He looked away, trying to distract himself, but it was no use. 

Shinsou, of course, was completely unfazed. He sat there like nothing had happened at all, casually flipping through a book as if the tension in the air wasn’t thick enough to cut with a knife. He was so calm , so annoyingly composed, it made Bakugou want to tear his hair out. It made his chest tighten, made his head buzz with a strange mix of frustration and something else he wasn’t ready to name yet. The audacity of Shinsou to be this relaxed after everything—they were way beyond normal now, but Shinsou acted like it was just another day. But when he saw Shinsou casually sprawled out on the couch, flipping through a book like nothing had changed, his stomach twisted in a way that made him sick. It looks like nothing had changed for Shinsou .

Bakugou felt his chest tighten as his gaze flicked to the couch—the place where it had all started, where everything had tipped over the edge. The couch that, now, felt like it was haunted by memories of a moment he couldn’t shake.

"Oi," Bakugou grumbled, his voice rougher than usual, defensive in the way only he could manage. He walked over, posture rigid, hands shoved in his pockets. "You're acting like nothing happened."

He stood in front of Shinsou, arms crossed, glaring down at him. His heart was hammering in his chest, his fists still curled in his pockets. Every inch of him wanted to be mad, wanted to call out Shinsou for this bullshit calmness, but he couldn’t hide the twitch of nerves beneath the anger. The way his body was aware of Shinsou's proximity—like he was still getting used to all of this. The way his pulse still quickened when Shinsou even looked at him in a certain way. 

Shinsou glanced up from his book, his eyes sharp as ever, but there was a hint of something in his gaze. Amusement? Or maybe it was just that same calm composure that was driving Bakugou nuts. 

"Hm? What are you talking about?" Shinsou asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He closed the book slowly, as if savoring the moment. His posture was relaxed, leaning back into the couch like they weren’t two seconds away from blowing up at each other. Like he wasn’t aware of what had happened.

Bakugou scowled, his lips pressing together tightly as he fought to keep his cool. "You know exactly what the hell I’m talking about. I can’t believe you’re acting like nothing happened."

Shinsou glanced up at him, an innocent look on his face that Bakugou could almost see through. "What do you mean? I’m just reading" He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth curling into a barely-there smirk.

Bakugou’s face flushed, but he refused to back down. " Damn it, Shinsou, stop being so smug about this shit ," he snapped, his fists clenching, though his body was betraying him with the way his stomach twisted with something almost... excited? No, that couldn’t be right.

Shinsou leaned back into the couch again, that damn smirk still on his face. "I’m not the one acting weird about it," he said lightly, his tone casually teasing. "Maybe you should just admit that you’re not as unaffected as you want to pretend."

Bakugou felt his chest tighten at the implication. "What’s that supposed to mean?" His voice was sharp, and yet there was an edge of vulnerability beneath the words that made him want to punch a wall. The last thing he wanted was to feel like this, like he was losing control of himself every time Shinsou looked at him, every time he said something like that.

Shinsou met his gaze, eyes half-lidded in that way that made Bakugou feel like he was being undressed with a single glance. "It means," Shinsou started, his voice smooth and low, "that I’m not the one who’s still twitching about last night." His words were delivered with a quiet amusement that left Bakugou breathless, his heart thudding louder in his ears.

The insult hit harder than Bakugou wanted to admit. He felt his face redden, his hands curling into fists as he glared at Shinsou. "I’m not twitchy," he ground out, voice strained.

Shinsou raised an eyebrow, his lips curling slightly. "Oh? Really?" he said, and for a moment, there was no teasing in his voice, just something genuine, something raw. "Cause from where I’m standing, it looks like you can barely hold it together."

Bakugou’s breath hitched, his mind racing to find some sharp retort, but the words got caught in his throat. Instead, he shifted on his feet, his gaze dropping briefly before snapping back up to Shinsou. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest, his body suddenly too aware of every movement in the room.

"You’re fucking impossible," Bakugou muttered under his breath, turning to walk away before he did something even more embarrassing. But Shinsou’s next words made him freeze in place.

"Maybe," Shinsou called after him, his voice a little too casual, going back to his book "But we’ve been through this already."

Bakugou stopped dead in his tracks, his body rigid, every muscle tensing as if he had just been struck by lightning. “We’ve been through this already.” Those words. They echoed in his mind, twisting, growing more painful with each passing second. 

His heart hammered in his chest, and his breath hitched. For a moment, he stood there, frozen, fighting to keep his composure. He could feel the blood rush to his face, a hot rush of anger and something else—something deeper that made him want to snap, to lash out, to make Shinsou see what he had done to him. 

He slowly turned around, his eyes locking onto Shinsou, whose expression was still calm, still indifferent. The same damn look he had worn when Bakugou had walked in. Like nothing had changed, like none of it meant anything. 

“ Been through this already? ” Bakugou’s voice cracked as he repeated the words, his fists clenching at his sides. “What the hell do you mean by that, huh? You think this is just some damn game?”

Shinsou's gaze flicked up, his brows knitting together slightly in confusion. “What’s the issue, Bakugou? We’ve had our fun, but it doesn’t need to change anything. You’re acting like we crossed some line, but we both knew what we were getting into.”

Bakugou’s chest tightened. He felt a lump form in his throat, threatening to choke him. We both knew what we were getting into. The words stung more than he could handle. It felt like Shinsou was dismissing everything they’d shared, everything that had happened between them—like it was just a fleeting moment of fun, a “game” they both played, and then moved on from.

But for Bakugou, it wasn’t like that. Everything had shifted the moment they kissed, the moment Shinsou had touched him in ways that broke down all his walls, made him feel something —something real, something raw. Bakugou wasn’t used to this feeling, wasn’t used to letting anyone close. And now, standing there, he realized just how much he had let Shinsou in. 

But Shinsou? He was acting like it didn’t matter. Like nothing had changed. And it hurt more than anything Bakugou had ever felt.

Bakugou’s jaw tightened. What ? He felt a sudden, sharp sting in his chest, but he didn’t let it show. He wasn’t going to give Shinsou the satisfaction of seeing how much his words—his nonchalance —was hurting. 

Shinsou’s eyes flicked toward him briefly, and then back to the pages of his book. “We’re fine. Nothing changed. It’s not a big deal, Bakugou.” His tone was dismissive, like he was just stating the facts, like it was no more than another casual conversation. 

Bakugou felt his chest tighten, and a cold chill ran through him. Nothing changed . Shinsou was still acting like they were just two guys with nothing more than casual rivalry between them, like what had happened the night before was nothing to him. Nothing had changed. Bakugou repeated it to himself, but it didn’t feel right. The words felt wrong. There was something hollow in them. Something that made him ache in ways he didn’t know how to handle. 

He clenched his fists at his sides, his heart pounding in his chest. “You think nothing happened?” Bakugou said through gritted teeth, trying to keep his voice steady, but it came out rougher than he intended. He wasn’t sure if he was angry or hurt or both, but he needed Shinsou to hear it. “After everything that went down last night, you think nothing changed?”

Shinsou sighed, clearly not understanding what was really eating at Bakugou. He closed his book, leaning back into the couch with that same carefree posture, like it was just another day. “I mean, yeah. What’s the big deal? You and me, we’re still the same. Nothing’s changed.”

The words felt like a slap in the face to Bakugou. He could feel the sting of them, deep in his gut, making him freeze in place. His mind was scrambling to catch up with the sudden explosion of emotions. Nothing’s changed . It was like Shinsou didn’t even care. Didn’t even see him for what he was, or what had happened. Didn’t see that something had shifted. Something deep inside him had changed the moment their lips had touched, the moment they had crossed that line. 

“You’re fucking impossible ,” Bakugou muttered again, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with frustration and confusion. “You don’t get it, do you? This—” He motioned vaguely between them, as if the words couldn’t capture the depth of what he was feeling. “This isn’t just ‘fun,’ Shinsou. It’s not just some stupid game to me.”

For the first time, Shinsou seemed to pause, his gaze flickering with something that almost resembled uncertainty. “What do you mean, then?”

Bakugou’s breath came in shallow bursts, the anger boiling in his veins. He didn’t know why he was saying this—why he was letting his emotions pour out like this, but he couldn’t hold it back anymore. “I mean... last night, I felt something, damn it. And you... you’re just sitting there like you don’t even care .”

Shinsou’s eyes widened, but he quickly masked it with a smirk, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bakugou. I’m just saying there’s no need to get all worked up. We’re fine. Nothing changed.”

Bakugou’s hands were shaking now, and he could feel his pulse pounding in his ears. The frustration was too much to bear, the hurt too overwhelming. “You don’t get it. You don’t see me, do you? You’re acting like nothing’s different, but everything’s different .”

For the first time, Shinsou’s expression shifted. He blinked, his cool demeanor faltering for a fraction of a second, but it was enough to make Bakugou’s chest tighten even more.

“What’s different, then?” Shinsou’s voice was quieter now, almost hesitant, like he was unsure how to navigate this new shift in their dynamic.

Bakugou’s breath hitched. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to make Shinsou understand the depth of it, how everything inside of him felt like it had been upended. How he didn’t know what the hell was happening, but he couldn’t just walk away from it. 

And now, Shinsou was acting like it was all some weird, insignificant blip. Like it didn’t matter. Like Bakugou didn’t matter.

Bakugou swallowed hard, the bitter taste of disappointment crawling up his throat. He forced himself to look away, but his voice cracked with something he hated to admit was vulnerability. “You’re really gonna act like nothing happened? Like... I don’t matter?”

Shinsou raised an eyebrow, clearly not catching the depth of Bakugou’s words. He was still too casual, too flippant. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you’re overreacting. It’s just a little kiss, Bakugou. You’re making it seem like it’s a big deal. We’re still the same, right?”

That was it. That was the breaking point for Bakugou. The words hit him harder than anything Shinsou had said before. We’re still the same. It wasn’t a kiss, it was everything . It had meant something, but Shinsou didn’t get it. He didn’t see what was happening inside of Bakugou. He didn’t see how much he’d been affected by that moment. How much it had changed everything.

Shinsou’s eyes softened just a little, his smirk slowly fading, and for a brief moment, Bakugou thought he saw something akin to understanding in his gaze.

But then, just as quickly, the mask slipped back into place. Shinsou let out a slow breath and leaned back against the couch, his arms folding casually behind his head, that familiar air of nonchalance returning. “Look, Bakugou. If you’re expecting me to act different, then you’re out of luck. We’ve had our fun. That’s it.”

The words hit Bakugou like a slap, and he had to fight to keep himself from lashing out. He could feel the anger bubbling up again, but this time it was mixed with something else—a deep, aching disappointment that made his chest feel hollow.

He didn’t have an answer. He didn’t have a way to explain this gnawing feeling inside of him. But he couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t keep pretending like this was nothing. Like this didn’t mean anything. 

With a sharp exhale, Bakugou turned away again, his hands trembling at his sides. “Whatever,” he muttered, unable to hold back the sharp edge in his voice. “Forget it. I’m done.” 

The hurt was too raw. 

But deep down, he knew he wouldn’t be able to forget it. Because he wasn’t the same anymore. And that fact was all that mattered.

–

Shinsou’s mind was on autopilot as Bakugou snapped at him, the same old tension between them that had always existed. He had expected this. Hell, he even found it a little amusing. This was just how it was between them—teasing, challenging, and testing boundaries. Bakugou wasn’t a man of many words, but the words he did speak were always sharp, pointed, and designed to get a reaction. And Shinsou was more than happy to deliver that reaction right back.  

The comment about last night, though, had slipped in under the radar. He hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t expected any of this.

He watched Bakugou’s back stiffen, his anger rising with each word, and for a brief moment, Shinsou thought he might be able to dodge the bullet. If he could just keep things light, keep the teasing going, Bakugou would back off, right? Maybe brush it off, like he usually did. Maybe Shinsou could laugh it off, act like it was no big deal, and get back to their usual dynamic. No harm, no foul.

But then Bakugou’s voice dropped, more serious than he’d ever heard it. “I mean... last night, I felt something, damn it.”

The words hit Shinsou like a punch to the gut. 

His pulse quickened, a cold wave of panic crashing over him. He wasn’t supposed to catch feelings. He wasn’t supposed to let this happen. Not with Shinsou . The plan had always been simple: they’d mess around, push each other’s buttons, have fun—nothing more. That was it. No emotions. No attachments. He was supposed to keep it light, playful. And Bakugou? He was supposed to be just as unaffected. After all, Bakugou was Bakugou . He didn’t let people in, didn’t let anyone get close.

But now... Now, Bakugou had gone and done exactly what Shinsou had hoped wouldn’t happen. He’d gone and felt something.

It was almost like the air in the room shifted. The teasing tone Shinsou had used suddenly felt hollow, out of place. A sick knot formed in his stomach. This was bad. This was really, really bad.

His mind raced to find something, anything, to say to fix it. To turn it back, to pretend like nothing had changed. But Bakugou’s words were already swimming around in his head, taunting him. I felt something.

No Shinsou thought, his chest tightening. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You’re not supposed to care, not like this.

His face remained neutral—blank—but inside, he was spiraling. His palms were sweating, his mind racing a million miles a minute, and he could feel the walls around his emotions starting to crack, threatening to spill over.

He swallowed hard, trying to calm the storm building inside of him. He couldn’t let Bakugou see how much this rattled him. No , Shinsou thought, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. You can’t let him see. Not now. Not ever.

Quickly, Shinsou snapped back into his old habits, slinging a casual, almost indifferent smile in Bakugou’s direction. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bakugou.” His voice came out too smooth, too practiced, like he was trying to slip back into the comfort of their usual banter. “There’s no need to get all worked up.”

But even as the words left his mouth, Shinsou could feel the lie gnawing at him. The playful edge to his voice was fake, forced, just as it always had been, but now, there was a crack in it, a shift that he couldn’t control. The teasing tone had an undercurrent of something else—something Shinsou couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He needed to shut it down. Fast. Before Bakugou could start to see the cracks, before the heat in his chest exploded outward, before everything fell apart.

Shinsou quickly deflected, hoping to hide behind his usual sharp sarcasm. “Look, Bakugou, we’ve had our fun, but you’re overthinking this. I’m not the one acting like some lovesick fool.” He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms, trying to reassert control over the conversation. “If anyone’s gonna catch feelings, it’s you, you know? Don’t act like you’re not the one getting all worked up. I’m just here for the ride.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Shinsou regretted them. He could feel his chest tighten, his heart racing again. He was pushing too hard, trying too hard to keep it light, to deflect everything that was really bothering him. And the worst part was, it wasn’t working. Not at all. 

Bakugou wasn’t the fool here. Bakugou had seen something— felt something—and now, Shinsou wasn’t sure if he could run from it anymore. But the last thing he wanted was to show any vulnerability. Not with Bakugou. Not with anyone. 

So he kept it up, his voice sharp and dismissive. “But hey, don’t worry about it too much. You’re fine, right? We’re still good. Nothing’s changed.” He gave a short, tight laugh, but it lacked the usual edge. It was more like a cover-up. A mask. 

Don’t feel anything, Hitoshi. Just don’t. Keep it cool. 

Shinsou's heart ached with the effort. But he couldn’t let it show. He wouldn’t. 

But deep down, he knew he had already lost the battle.

–

The moment Shinsou’s words hung in the air like a taunt, Bakugou felt the walls closing in. His chest was tight, his palms sweating, and the sting of rejection—though unspoken—grated against his pride and his heart. He couldn’t stay there, couldn’t let Shinsou see him unravel.

“Tch,” Bakugou scoffed, forcing a sneer that felt like it was tearing his face in half. “Whatever. You’re not worth my time.”

He turned sharply on his heel, his shoulders stiff and his strides brisk as he made a beeline for the dormitory halls. His mind raced faster than his feet, replaying the exchange and twisting the knife with every step.  

“I’m just here for the ride.”

Bakugou clenched his fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms hard enough to sting. The words echoed relentlessly, making him want to scream, punch something, anything to drown them out. 

“Oi, Bakugou—” Shinsou’s voice carried after him, calm and teasing like nothing was wrong, like Bakugou wasn’t spiraling. 

“Shut up!” Bakugou barked over his shoulder without looking back, his voice cracking on the last syllable. He didn’t care if it sounded desperate or pathetic. All he cared about was putting as much distance as possible between himself and Shinsou. 

His boots pounded against the floor as he stormed down the hallway, his breathing uneven and his vision blurred—not with tears, of course, but with sheer frustration. He could feel the eyes of a few classmates lingering on him as he passed, no doubt wondering what had him so wound up, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. 

By the time he reached his room, his hands were trembling. He yanked the door open and slammed it shut behind him, leaning his back against it as if he were barricading himself from the rest of the world. His chest heaved, and his eyes burned, but he refused to let himself cry. Not here. Not now. 

“Stupid... fucking... asshole,” he muttered under his breath, kicking the edge of his bed as hard as he could. The pain shot up his foot, but it didn’t matter. It was better than the ache in his chest. 

He collapsed onto the bed, burying his face in the crook of his arm as he lay there, motionless except for the rise and fall of his uneven breaths. His heart pounded against his ribs, and his mind wouldn’t stop torturing him with Shinsou’s words, Shinsou’s face, Shinsou’s damn smirk.  

“Why’d you have to go and ruin everything, you idiot?” Bakugou whispered hoarsely, though he wasn’t sure if he meant Shinsou or himself. Probably both.  

He turned over, staring up at the ceiling with a bitter scowl, the faint light from the window casting uneven shadows across his room. It didn’t help—nothing did. His chest felt tight, and every time he closed his eyes, he saw Shinsou’s stupid, calm expression like a brand against the inside of his eyelids.  

Bakugou groaned, throwing an arm over his face in frustration, but the memories kept coming. That night on the couch. The teasing. The way Shinsou had looked at him when it was just the two of them. His chest ached, a low, burning throb that wouldn’t go away no matter how much he tried to will it out of existence.  

He rolled onto his stomach, grabbing his pillow and shoving his face into it with a muffled growl. “Damn it,” he muttered into the fabric, his voice cracking slightly.  

And still, his mind refused to give him peace. Every time he thought he might be able to push it aside, another fragment of Shinsou’s voice, another flicker of Shinsou’s smirk, would pull him back under.  

It was too much. Too loud. Too constant. Bakugou lay sprawled across his bed, face buried in his pillow as he tried—and failed—to shut out the whirlwind of emotions tearing through him.  

"If anyone’s gonna catch feelings, it’s you, you know? Don’t act like you’re not the one getting all worked up. I’m just here for the ride."

The words stung more than Bakugou wanted to admit. He was no stranger to rejection—hell, he was the king of pushing people away before they could get close enough to hurt him—but this felt different. This wasn’t just someone brushing him off. This was Shinsou. Shinsou, who had teased him, flirted with him, kissed him like he meant it. Shinsou, who had made Bakugou feel things he wasn’t sure he even wanted to feel.

And now? Now, Shinsou was acting like it had all been a joke. Like none of it mattered. Like Bakugou didn’t matter.

A sharp, frustrated growl escaped his throat as he shoved his face deeper into the pillow, his hands fisting the sheets beneath him. Stupid. I’m so fucking stupid. He had let himself believe, even for a second, that this could be something real. That maybe, just maybe, Shinsou felt the same way.

His mind flashed back to the night before—the way Shinsou had looked at him, touched him, kissed him. It had felt real. It had felt... different. And now, all of it was tainted by those stupid, careless words. I’m just here for the ride.

Bakugou’s breath hitched, and he clenched his fists tighter, trying to shove down the lump forming in his throat. He wasn’t going to cry. He refused to cry. Not over some stupid boy who clearly didn’t give a damn about him

But the more he tried to suppress it, the harder it became to keep the tears at bay. The ache in his chest only grew, and before he knew it, hot, angry tears were streaming down his face, soaking into the pillow beneath him.

“Fuck,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice breaking as he swiped at his face, only for more tears to follow. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He hated this. Hated feeling so out of control, so vulnerable. Hated that Shinsou had this kind of power over him.

He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with red-rimmed eyes. His chest rose and fell unevenly, and his hands trembled as they rested on his stomach. He felt raw, exposed, and utterly foolish.

I’m just here for the ride.

The words echoed in his mind again, each repetition cutting deeper than the last. Was that all Bakugou had been to Shinsou? A game? A way to pass the time? The thought made his stomach churn, and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears to stop.

Get a grip, Katsuki. You’re better than this.

But even as he tried to convince himself, the pain in his chest refused to fade. For the first time in a long time, Bakugou didn’t feel better after yelling, or punching something, or pretending he didn’t care. He felt... empty.

He curled up on his side, clutching the pillow to his chest as if it could somehow shield him from the overwhelming hurt. He didn’t know how long he lay there, the hours bleeding into one another as he sank deeper into his thoughts. All he knew was that he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been a fool—a fool for letting Shinsou in, for believing things could ever be different.

And worst of all? He couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite everything, he still wanted Shinsou.

–

Shinsou watched Bakugou storm off, the sharp, angry edge of his retreating figure cutting through the dormitory hall like a blade. But it wasn’t the anger that Shinsou noticed most—it was the way Bakugou’s shoulders sagged ever so slightly, the way his steps faltered just a bit before speeding up again, as though he was holding himself together by sheer force of will.  

It hit Shinsou like a sucker punch to the gut. The guilt curled in his stomach, sharp and unrelenting. He wanted to call out, to stop Bakugou, to take back every word he’d just said. He wanted to erase the hurt he’d seen flash across Bakugou’s face, the pain he knew he’d caused.  

But he didn’t.  

His feet stayed rooted to the floor, his arms limp at his sides, and his mouth dry as he watched Bakugou disappear around the corner. Because it had to be this way.  

It had to be this way, right?  

It had to be this way.  

He repeated the thought like a mantra, forcing himself to believe it. It had to be this way. 

Shinsou exhaled slowly, leaning back against the arm of the couch as he tried to steady his racing thoughts. Letting the soft fabric press into his back as he stared blankly at the spot where Bakugou had stood moments before. His mind was a chaotic mess, a torrent of emotions that clashed violently against each other. His own words echoed hollowly in his head—sarcastic, deflective, and entirely untrue. He’d said them to protect himself, to keep everything from spiraling out of control, but now they felt like poison, seeping into every corner of his mind.  

He ran a hand through his hair, gripping it tightly as if the pressure could stop the memories from flooding in. The way Bakugou had looked at him, eyes blazing with something raw and real. The vulnerability in his voice, the honesty in his words. Shinsou had taken all of that and thrown it back in his face.  

“Damn it,” he muttered, his voice low and bitter.  

But what else could he do? This wasn’t supposed to happen. They weren’t supposed to change. The dynamic they’d had—snarky banter, teasing, maybe a little flirting—it was safe. It was fun. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything.  

And yet, here he was, his chest aching and his head spinning with thoughts of Bakugou.  

“I can’t,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I can’t.”  

Because if he let himself feel—if he let himself want —he’d lose the one thing he’d managed to hold onto: control. And he wasn’t sure he could survive without it.

Chapter Text

A few days had passed, but the tension between Bakugou and Shinsou had only thickened. Both of them were caught in their own tangled webs of emotion, each trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy while avoiding the one person they couldn’t stop thinking about.

Bakugou had mastered the art of pretending everything was fine. His prideful exterior was intact—hard as a rock, as usual. He was always moving, always busy, and doing everything he could to avoid any direct confrontation with Shinsou. It wasn’t even that he didn’t want to face him—no, he just couldn’t. Not after everything. Not when his chest still ached at the thought of Shinsou’s careless words. 

He was doing everything in his power to gaslight himself into believing it didn’t matter. He’d tell himself over and over: “It’s just Shinsou. He’s a pain. He’s an idiot. You don’t need anyone, especially him .” But, of course, his mind refused to cooperate. It kept pulling him back to memories of Shinsou's stupid smirk, that face so annoyingly perfect, and those damn eyes—those soft, unreadable eyes that haunted him. And the worst part? He was starting to feel like it wasn’t just annoyance anymore. No. It was something worse. 

“Stop thinking about him. Stop caring,” Bakugou muttered to himself as he stomped through the hallways, “He’s a jerk. Just forget it. Forget him. ” But even as he said it, he knew it was a lie. He could feel the heat of his own frustration bubbling inside him, gnawing at his resolve. And every time his gaze accidentally met Shinsou’s—whether it was in passing or in the middle of training—his heart would skip. He hated it. He hated how he couldn’t control it.

Shinsou, on the other hand, had his own silent battle going on. It was clear to him now—Bakugou was hurt . He could see the way Bakugou had been avoiding him, the way his shoulders were just a little too stiff, his eyes avoiding direct contact with him at all costs. It gnawed at him, the guilt creeping in at all hours of the day. 

He knew what he’d done. He’d pushed Bakugou away, let his fear control him, and now Bakugou was paying the price for it. But, instead of facing his feelings and being honest with Bakugou, Shinsou doubled down, convincing himself that he was doing what was best. 

“This is for the best,” he told himself repeatedly. “You can’t get close to him. You can’t let yourself care. If you do, it’s going to make everything worse. There’s no way to fix this now. No way to make it righ t.”

He’d tried to reach out to Bakugou a few times, but each time he’d gotten coldly brushed off or met with a steely, stubborn silence that only confirmed his belief that he had made the right choice by keeping his distance. But deep down, it felt like a lie. The guilt ate at him, creeping in at odd hours, especially when he saw Bakugou’s lonely expression or the way he stood at the edge of groups, keeping a wide berth between himself and everyone else. 

But he wouldn’t admit it. Not to himself. Not yet. He told himself over and over: “You can’t fix it. Just leave it alone. The words felt like a mantra, even as they dug a deeper pit inside his chest. 

They had to keep this distance, didn’t they? There was no other choice. 

---

The day had arrived when it was finally unavoidable. 

Bakugou was leaving the training room, just trying to keep his head down and focus on the mission of getting to his room without encountering anyone who could throw off his carefully crafted mask of indifference. But fate, as always, was cruel. 

As he rounded a corner, he ran right into Shinsou.  

The moment was almost cinematic, frozen in time—Bakugou’s heart leapt into his throat, and his immediate instinct was to push past Shinsou, but then his eyes flicked up to meet Shinsou’s gaze. For a moment, neither of them moved. There was this strange, suffocating tension hanging in the air. 

Shinsou’s lips parted, as if he was about to say something, but the words never came. He could see the tension in Bakugou’s body, how rigid and defensive he was, and it made his chest ache even more. 

But, just like that, Bakugou pushed past him, muttering under his breath. “Move it, Shinsou.” 

The sharpness in Bakugou’s voice was a blow to Shinsou’s gut. It was the final confirmation that he had messed up, that this had become more than a small misunderstanding—it had grown into something far deeper, something unfixable, in Bakugou’s eyes.

Shinsou watched him leave, feeling the sting of those words cut through him. It wasn’t just the rejection—it was the finality in them. Bakugou was done with him, and deep down, Shinsou couldn’t help but feel like he deserved it.

He stayed there for a few moments longer, staring down the hall. The overwhelming guilt churned inside him, but still, he ignored it. He couldn’t face the truth, and he couldn’t let himself believe there was a way back from this. Not without risking everything.

“I’m doing what’s best,” he muttered, trying to convince himself, as he turned and walked in the opposite direction, leaving Bakugou’s retreating figure behind.

But even as he walked away, the thought of losing Bakugou began to settle deep in his chest. And that, more than anything, made him doubt his decision.

The tension between Bakugou and Shinsou had been building for days, both of them working overtime to avoid each other, yet the universe seemed determined to bring them together, no matter how hard they tried. Their plans to keep their distance were crumbling, and it didn’t help that they had an instructor who had a sixth sense for putting them in uncomfortable situations. 

Today’s training exercise was particularly grueling, one that required them to be paired up in duos, each group tasked with clearing unstable buildings to check for any remaining survivors who needed rescue. As expected, the one and only Eraserhead, ever the kind teacher, had paired Bakugou and Shinsou together. Where they had to go into the same building. Together. Fuck.

Bakugou was already irritated as he stormed toward the structure, his footsteps heavy and his hands clenched into fists, ready to take on anything that came their way. He didn’t even look at Shinsou, though he could feel his presence beside him, his aura as palpable as always. It made Bakugou’s skin prickle with frustration. 

"This is bullshit," Bakugou muttered under his breath, casting a glance toward Shinsou, who was walking beside him with an eerie calmness, as though everything was normal. It wasn’t normal . Not anymore.

Shinsou, for his part, kept his gaze ahead, walking with deliberate steps. He wasn’t looking at Bakugou either, but his thoughts were a storm. He wasn’t thrilled with the pairing either. The weight of their unresolved tension was suffocating, and with each step, his mind spiraled. He didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to feel the overwhelming pull of guilt in his chest every time he glanced at Bakugou. But this was the situation they were in now.

"Just get this over with," Shinsou finally said, his voice quieter than usual, but with an edge that hinted at his frustration. "We’re here to do a job. Let’s focus on that."

Bakugou grunted, nodding tersely, though his face was set in a permanent scowl. "Fine, but you better not get in my way."

They reached the entrance of the building, a tall, unstable structure that seemed ready to collapse at any given moment. Debris scattered the ground, and the air smelled of dust and metal. Shinsou could already feel the strain of the building's instability, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. It’s fine. We can do this . 

Eraserhead’s voice rang in their earpieces, reminding them of their task: "You two are going in, checking each floor for any remaining survivors. You know the drill. Keep your comms open, stay focused, and don’t mess around."

Bakugou gritted his teeth. "I don’t need a babysitter." 

Shinsou barely reacted, his eyes scanning the building as he adjusted his gear. "Shut up, Bakugou. Let’s just get in and out."

The door creaked as they pushed it open, the sound of it grinding against the floor making them both flinch slightly. They stepped into the dimly lit building, the air musty with the remnants of destruction. The walls were cracked, the floor uneven. 

As they moved deeper into the building, everything felt wrong. The space was tight, the light flickering in the overhead bulbs, the silence only broken by their footsteps. There was no time to talk, no time for anything other than the mission. And yet, Bakugou could feel Shinsou beside him, the awkwardness between them almost tangible.

"Stay close," Shinsou said, breaking the silence. His voice was quieter now, cautious, as he led the way up a shaky staircase.

Bakugou didn’t respond immediately, but his shoulders tensed as Shinsou’s hand brushed against his back when he reached out to steady him on the uneven stairs. That brief touch shot a jolt through him. He cursed under his breath, his heart thundering, but he didn’t say anything. Didn’t dare. 

As they reached the second floor, the building seemed to groan, like it was about to collapse at any second. The floor beneath them buckled, and Bakugou instinctively reached out to grab Shinsou’s wrist, pulling him closer to steady him.

"Watch where you step," Bakugou muttered through gritted teeth, his voice more strained now, his irritation mingled with the adrenaline rushing through his veins. 

Shinsou glanced at him, his face unreadable, but his eyes flickered to Bakugou’s hand still holding his wrist. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to care. But Bakugou’s touch sent a strange heat through him, one he couldn’t shake . Still, he didn’t pull away. He just nodded, a brief acknowledgement.

"Yeah," Shinsou responded quietly, pulling his wrist free with a small but deliberate motion, as if to distance himself from the moment.

Bakugou didn’t look at him, not wanting to acknowledge how his chest tightened at the action. Instead, he focused on scanning the rooms around them, his senses alert. They were here for a reason. They had a job to do, and he wasn’t going to let his emotions screw that up.

But the longer they stayed in the building, the more the silence between them became unbearable. Each floor they checked, each dark corner they turned, felt like an agonizing reminder of how fucked up everything was between them.

Finally, as they reached the top floor, Bakugou had had enough. He couldn’t take it anymore. However before he could open his mouth and say something

The building groaned ominously, a deep, guttural sound that reverberated through the floor beneath them. It felt like the structure was holding its breath, and for a moment, everything seemed eerily still. Then, the ground beneath their feet buckled, sending a shockwave of panic through both Bakugou and Shinsou.

"Shit!" Bakugou cursed, his voice cracking under the pressure of the crumbling building. Without a second thought, he shoved Shinsou toward the nearest wall, his instincts telling him to protect them both, to get them the hell out of there.

But before either of them could react, the walls trembled violently, and the entire building seemed to lurch, as though it was about to swallow them whole.

"Get down!" Shinsou shouted, throwing himself at Bakugou just as the ceiling above them began to cave in, raining debris down.

Without thinking, both of them flung themselves toward each other, desperate to make contact, their hands reaching out for any kind of solid connection. When their fingers finally brushed, it felt like a lifeline in the chaos, a spark of hope in the sea of panic.

"Bakugou!" Shinsou screamed over the deafening sound of the collapse, just as a chunk of the wall came crashing down between them.

But Bakugou had already moved, his body acting on pure reflex, reaching for Shinsou just as the building's final, thunderous crash echoed through the air. The dust settled as everything went still, leaving a thick, suffocating silence in its wake.

Both boys were on the ground, partially buried, but miraculously alive. The dust cloud around them was thick, the air hard to breathe, but they were, for now, untouched by the worst of it. They had somehow ended up in the basement—the reinforced part of the building—where the walls and floors held just enough to protect them from the worst of the collapse.

Bakugou coughed violently as he pushed himself up, brushing dust from his clothes. His body hurt from where debris had hit him, but it was nothing compared to what could’ve happened. His hands, still clinging to Shinsou’s arm, trembled slightly as the adrenaline started to fade.

Shinsou was next to him, his face streaked with dust, his eyes wide and alert, scanning their surroundings. He was still holding onto Bakugou, his grip firm, like he was afraid that if he let go, Bakugou would slip away into the darkness.

“Shinsou,” Bakugou rasped, his voice hoarse as he looked over at him. “Are you alright?”

Shinsou nodded quickly, though his expression was a mixture of relief and panic. “Yeah, I’m fine. But... what the hell just happened?”

“We need to stay calm,” Bakugou said, wiping the sweat from his brow as he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “The basement’s reinforced, so we’re not going anywhere... for now.”

Shinsou glanced around them. The collapse had sent debris in all directions, but they were in a small space in the basement that seemed to have mostly been untouched. The ventilation shafts were still open, so the air was bearable. They had room to move, but not much more than that. They were stuck, buried under the wreckage of a building that had once been solid, once been whole.

Bakugou exhaled sharply, his chest tightening. This situation was far from ideal, but the fact that they were still alive meant something. And as much as he hated to admit it, he was grateful that they were in this together.

“Don’t just stand there, you idiot,” Bakugou muttered, pulling Shinsou to his feet, his voice a little more clipped than he intended. “We need to wait for the others to get us out of here.”

Shinsou let out a relieved laugh, though it was hollow. "Right, no time to panic, huh?"

Bakugou shot him a glance, his gaze sharp. “No. We’re not done yet. You and me, we’re getting out of this, got it?”

"Got it," Shinsou replied, his lips curving into a small, determined smile as he glanced at Bakugou. "Just don’t go pulling any reckless stunts, alright?”

“Reckless?” Bakugou scoffed, his hands flexing at his sides. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

The conversation didn’t go any further, but they both knew. They’d just have to wait. Wait for rescue, wait for the others to dig them out from under the wreckage. 

As the dust began to settle, they moved closer, instinctively huddling against the chill of the underground air. The silence between them felt different now—tense, but oddly comforting. The emotions that had been building up for days between them—anger, guilt, confusion, frustration—were still there, but now, in the quiet aftermath of the collapse, it felt like the moment of reckoning would have to wait. 

And maybe that was a good thing. They weren’t safe yet. They had to get out of here first. 

For now, they sat in the silence, waiting for the world to right itself again.

As the seconds ticked by in the oppressive silence of the collapsed basement, Bakugou’s mind raced, but not in the way it usually did. His thoughts were less about escaping or figuring out a strategy for survival and more about the weight of everything that had transpired between him and Shinsou. 

He’d been so sure—so damn sure—that he’d locked his feelings down tight. That nothing could penetrate the armor he’d built around himself, especially not the constant teasing, the back-and-forth with Shinsou that had always been so natural. But now, with the building literally falling down around them, the rush of adrenaline and the thudding of his heart didn’t just come from the danger they’d faced. It was because he was suddenly aware of how much Shinsou meant to him. 

And that terrified him.

There was no denying it anymore—Shinsou had gotten under his skin in a way Bakugou never thought was possible. Sure, they’d always had their little moments, the sarcastic remarks, the heated banter, the small glimpses of something deeper. But that kiss, that damn kiss, had unlocked a floodgate of emotions Bakugou wasn’t prepared for. The night they shared was still fresh in his mind—the heat of it, the feeling of something changing between them, shifting.

The problem was, Bakugou didn’t know what the hell to do with that feeling. What did it mean? Was it just a one-time thing? Something born of the heat of the moment, the adrenaline? Or had something actually changed between them? He’d always been the one who kept things simple. Relationships? Who needed them? But with Shinsou… it was different. He didn’t want to admit it, but he wanted to be closer to him. He wanted to understand why he felt this way, but everything he tried to ignore only made it worse.

And now, as they sat there in the aftermath, trapped under debris, the reality of the situation hit him like a freight train. He couldn’t help but feel the emptiness creeping in, the gnawing sense that if something happened to Shinsou here, if he lost him in this situation… well, Bakugou didn’t know if he could handle it. 

His mind ran through flashes of their past interactions—Shinsou’s teasing smirk, the way he’d always been there, how effortlessly they’d worked together. How easily they’d slid into their rhythm, even when they were at odds. And then that damn night. How, for the first time in ages, Bakugou had allowed himself to feel something real. Something good . 

But now? Now, everything felt so complicated. The uncertainty gnawed at him, sinking deeper with every beat of his heart. It was hard enough that he was in this fucked-up situation, half-buried in rubble, but it was even harder to deal with how good it felt when Shinsou was around. He couldn’t push it down, couldn’t make sense of it. The more he tried to convince himself it didn’t matter, the more it hurt.

He’d seen it in Shinsou’s face earlier—the way he’d brushed him off, acted like nothing had changed. But Bakugou had seen the shift, too. He’d felt it, like a crack in the ice beneath his feet, widening with every passing moment. The little things Shinsou did—the way he didn’t meet Bakugou’s eyes, the way he was so calm, too calm, like he had it all figured out while Bakugou was drowning in confusion.

The truth was, Bakugou didn’t know what the hell was going on. He didn’t know if Shinsou was hiding something or if he really just didn’t care. The latter stung more than he was willing to admit. He wanted to say something. He wanted to scream at Shinsou, to get it out of his system, to make him understand that he didn’t want things to stay the way they were. But the words caught in his throat.

So, Bakugou sat there, his fists clenched, his chest tight. He hated how much he cared, hated how much he felt for Shinsou, hated the uncertainty, but above all, he hated how helpless he felt. 

But then, in the back of his mind, something clicked. If you don’t act soon, you might lose him, Bakugou. The thought was terrifying, but it was also the truth. And no matter how much he tried to lie to himself, he couldn’t ignore it.

The silence between them was suffocating, but it wasn’t just the dust that had settled around them. It was the unspoken words—the things neither of them had said, the things that they both felt but couldn’t bring themselves to admit. The longer they waited, the harder it would be to say anything at all.

Shinsou was sitting so close, yet Bakugou couldn’t feel further from him. He wanted to reach out, to pull him close, to close that gap, but he wasn’t sure how. And that, that feeling of helplessness, was the worst part of all. Because no matter what, no matter how much he tried to push it away, the truth remained: he cared about Shinsou more than he was willing to admit. 

And now, for the first time in his life, Bakugou didn’t know how to fix things.

–

In the thick, suffocating silence that enveloped the basement, Shinsou couldn’t help but replay the moments of chaos in his mind—the way the building had groaned and cracked under its own weight, how the walls seemed to close in around them, and, most of all, how Bakugou had moved toward him instinctively, desperate to make sure they both survived.

But it wasn’t just that.

What really stuck with Shinsou, what lingered in his mind like a ghost, was the raw panic that had shot down his spine when he saw that wall almost come crashing down on Bakugou. He wasn’t scared for himself—no, that had been the furthest thing from his mind. He hadn’t thought of his own safety once in that moment. 

What terrified him was the prospect of losing Bakugou.

The thought gripped him with such force that it made him feel like he couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t sure why, but in that split second when the world had seemed to teeter on the edge of collapse, the image of Bakugou buried under rubble, his chest motionless and still, had become the only thing that mattered. 

What would he do without him? What would life even be without Bakugou?

The truth hit him like a ton of bricks. There was no denying it now. Bakugou had become a part of his life, something he relied on, something he’d grown used to—his fierce words, his unrelenting drive, the way Bakugou would tease him relentlessly and then, just when Shinsou thought he couldn’t handle it, would show up with some surprising bit of tenderness. The way they worked together, how they pushed each other. 

It was all so easy. So natural. And yet, he'd spent so much time denying it, telling himself it wasn’t possible—telling himself that he could never let it be more than just this, this stupid back-and-forth that kept them tethered but never close enough to truly matter.

And yet... now he realized what it meant. 

He glanced at Bakugou, his heart pounding just as hard as it had when they’d first felt the building shake. Bakugou sat there, his body tense but still, his eyes focused on nothing in particular. The dust and debris clung to him like a shield, but to Shinsou, he was more real, more present than ever before. 

The soft rise and fall of Bakugou’s chest as he breathed, the way his fingers clenched instinctively into fists, his hair falling in front of his eyes— everything about him was so very Bakugou. So uniquely, impossibly, him .

But it wasn’t just that.

Shinsou’s mind wandered back to that night—the kiss, the heat of it, the way everything had felt right. That kiss had been the one thing in his life that hadn’t felt like he was pretending, like he was hiding behind a mask. He remembered how it had felt to kiss Bakugou, the warmth of his body against his own, the way Bakugou’s lips had responded without hesitation. How they’d both given into it, the world fading away as if nothing else mattered.

God , Shinsou thought. What the hell was wrong with him? Why hadn’t he done something sooner? Why hadn’t he just said something?

He had spent so long convincing himself it wasn’t possible—that Bakugou would never want him the way he wanted Bakugou. That they’d always just be two people locked in a rivalry, in a battle of wits and insults, but that kiss… That kiss had shown him everything he needed to know.

And now here they were. Stuck together in the dark, the rubble of a collapsed building above them, the weight of all the unsaid words and unspoken feelings sitting between them like an elephant in the room.

Shinsou cursed under his breath. What was he doing? He couldn’t keep pretending it didn’t matter. 

But that fear, that doubt, still gnawed at him. What if this was just a fleeting moment, a brief lapse in judgment that would soon fade? What if Bakugou would eventually walk away when he realized Shinsou wasn’t someone worth sticking around for? The thought of Bakugou leaving him, of being left behind when things inevitably went south, twisted painfully in his chest. Shinsou wasn’t in Bakugou’s league, wasn’t strong or confident or worthy in the way Bakugou was. That’s what kept him from truly letting himself believe this could be real. If he let his guard down, opened himself up to Bakugou, what if he ended up hurt when Bakugou inevitably decided he was better off without him? It was too much to risk—too much to lose.

He turned his gaze back to Bakugou, studying his profile, the sharpness of his jawline, the way his body was taut with exhaustion. Shinsou’s chest tightened. It hurt to look at him, knowing that this… this unspoken connection between them could very well be their undoing. 

What am I even doing? he thought again, shaking his head, his heart racing even faster now.

In that moment, Shinsou realized something that terrified him even more than anything else. He had spent so much time running from his own feelings, thinking he had it all under control. But now that he had seen what losing Bakugou might look like, the reality was impossible to ignore. 

He didn’t want to lose him.

But how could he make this right? How could he fix what he’d broken by being too afraid to admit what had always been there between them?

Maybe , he thought. Maybe it’s time to stop running.

The thought wasn’t fully formed yet, but as he sat there in the dim light, the air thick with the dust and the tension between them, it felt like the first step in the right direction.

Shinsou took a breath, trying to steady his thoughts. Bakugou hadn’t moved. He was still sitting there, so close, yet so far, the unspoken distance between them stretching with every beat of Shinsou’s heart.

The minutes continued to tick by, the silence in the basement seemed to stretch, thick and suffocating, with nothing but the sound of their uneven breaths breaking the stillness. The tension between him and Bakugou was palpable, almost suffocating in its own right. The air in this small, confined space felt heavier with every passing second.

He could feel it—could feel the weight of his own failure, the way he had been so distant, so oblivious to the damage he’d caused. In a way, he had pushed Bakugou away, even as he tried to make things seem normal, as if nothing had changed. But it had. Everything had changed. And the hardest part was realizing that he had let it happen, convinced himself that his feelings were something he couldn’t afford to deal with. That he couldn’t afford to want Bakugou.

But looking at him now—sitting there, fidgeting, his back turned, his whole body tense—Shinsou couldn’t ignore the truth any longer. He had hurt Bakugou. The very person he had wanted to stay close to, the person who meant more to him than he had allowed himself to admit, and now? Now he didn’t even know where to start.

If he was being honest, there was no better time than now. Trapped underground, with nothing but the sound of their breaths and the occasional creak of the rubble above them, there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from the conversation he needed to have. The words had been trapped inside for so long, building up like a dam that had finally cracked. And now that they were alone in this tiny space, this little pocket of chaos, Shinsou knew he had no excuse to delay it any longer.

It was just him and Bakugou, and this moment was as good as any to finally confront what had happened. 

But what if I mess it up again?

That thought was enough to make Shinsou’s heart lurch. He didn’t want to lose this chance. Not again. The worst part was that, in a way, he already had. He’d already pushed Bakugou too far by pretending like nothing was different, like he hadn’t felt the same rush of emotions the night everything had changed. 

For a second, Shinsou considered just using his quirk. He could make Bakugou listen. It’d be easier, quicker. He could force the conversation, make Bakugou forget the hurt. Make him forget everything that happened. He’d done it before—forced someone to forget, to ignore the feelings that made them vulnerable. It was easier that way. Hell, it would probably be a hell of a lot safer. But deep down, Shinsou knew that wouldn’t fix anything. It would just be another way of running away. 

He needed to face this head-on, without tricks, without shortcuts. He needed to do what he should have done the moment the tension started to shift. 

Taking a deep breath, Shinsou finally turned his body toward Bakugou. He could feel the nervous knot in his chest tightening as he leaned forward slightly, his voice quieter than it had been before, almost too soft for his liking. 

“Bakugou,” he said, testing the waters. “We need to talk.”

Bakugou’s body tensed, his shoulders stiffening even more at the sound of Shinsou’s voice. For a long moment, there was no response. Shinsou watched as Bakugou kept his back turned, but there was a noticeable tension in his posture. He could feel the frustration, the hurt radiating off of him even without having to see his face. 

“Yeah?” Bakugou’s voice was rough, but it wasn’t cold. Not like it had been before.

Shinsou swallowed, trying to push past the lump in his throat. “I’ve been a fucking idiot. I pushed you away when I shouldn’t have. And I’m sorry for that. I’ve... been trying to avoid facing it, but now I can’t just pretend like everything’s fine when it’s not.” He let out a shaky breath. “I’ve been trying to act like nothing’s changed, like I can just pretend this is all a game. But it’s not, and I’m sorry for making you feel like you didn’t matter.”

Bakugou remained silent, and for a second, Shinsou thought maybe it was too late. Maybe he’d ruined everything beyond repair. Maybe he couldn’t take the words back, no matter how much he wanted to. But he couldn’t stop now. Shinsou’s heart hammered in his chest, each beat louder than the last as he tried to find the right words. He knew this was it—this was the moment he had to get it right. The weight of everything he hadn’t said hung heavy in the air, suffocating him with the realization that he’d been pushing Bakugou away when, in truth, he never should have. Now, in the dim light of the crumbling basement, with nothing but the sound of their breaths and the distant noise of the world above them, it was time to lay everything out.

Shinsou’s voice was shaky as he started again, each word slow and deliberate, like he was feeling his way through the apology.

“I’m... I’m sorry, Bakugou,” he began, his voice barely audible at first, but growing firmer as he continued. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you don’t matter. The truth is, you matter more than I could ever explain.” His eyes dropped to his hands, his fingers clenching and unclenching as he struggled to put everything into words. He hadn’t allowed himself to feel like this before—vulnerable, raw, exposed—and it was terrifying. 

“I kept pushing you away, pretending like it didn’t matter, like it was all just a joke to me, but it’s not. I—” Shinsou paused, taking a deep breath. “I’ve been a fucking idiot. I thought I could control things, act like nothing was changing, like I could just... keep pushing you to the side without it affecting me. But it did. It does. It always has.”

He glanced at Bakugou, whose face was still turned away from him, though Shinsou could sense that he was listening. He swallowed hard, his throat tightening as he tried to find the courage to keep going. 

“I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you, and... I didn’t realize how much I was hurting myself either,” Shinsou admitted, his voice softer now, almost raw with the emotion he’d been bottling up for so long. “I thought I could protect myself from all of this, from you , but I was wrong. Because every day that I’ve spent pretending like nothing’s wrong, like I don’t... care about you... has just made everything worse.”

His gaze fell to the floor, the words stumbling out of him as he continued, each one a painful release. 

“I care about you, Bakugou. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone.” Shinsou’s voice cracked slightly, his eyes stinging as he let the words slip out. “And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for making you feel like you were just some... distraction. Some passing thing. You’re not, and I shouldn’t have treated you like you were.”

Shinsou let out a shaky breath, his hands trembling at his sides. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t even know if I deserve it, but I... I need you to know that I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to push you away.” He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady his breath. “I’m not good at this. I’ve never been good at... this ,” he said with a slight chuckle that wasn’t at all humorous, “but I’m trying. I just... want you to know how much I care. I want to make this right.”

There was silence again, a pause that stretched out far too long, leaving Shinsou with his heart in his throat. He had no idea what Bakugou was thinking, but every second that passed felt like an eternity.

"I..." Shinsou bit down on his lip, feeling the weight of his words, of everything he had just poured out into the air between them. "I never wanted to lose you, Bakugou. And I never want you to feel like you're not worth something—because you are. You're more than worth it."

Shinsou let out a frustrated sigh, a mix of desperation and regret in his voice. “I’m sorry for fucking this up. I just... I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know how to handle you . I didn’t think it would mean this much to me. But now I can’t stop thinking about it. About you .”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and raw. For a long moment, there was no response, and Shinsou’s heart hammered painfully in his chest, waiting for Bakugou’s reaction. 

And then, finally, Bakugou shifted slightly, his voice rough but steady. “You don’t get to just apologize and act like everything’s fine.” His words were sharp, but not with the usual intensity. It was as if the anger, the frustration, was more directed at himself than Shinsou. “You can’t just brush me off like I don’t matter and expect me to be fine with it.”

Shinsou’s throat tightened, but he nodded. “I know. I fucked up. I’m... sorry.”

Bakugou’s shoulders slumped just slightly as he let out a breath. “You better be.”

For a moment, the silence returned, but this time it felt different. It wasn’t suffocating. It wasn’t heavy with unspoken words. It was just... quiet. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Shinsou felt like maybe, just maybe, they were finally on the same page.

–

Bakugou stood still, listening to Shinsou’s apology, his body rigid and his mind a tornado of conflicting emotions. Every word that left Shinsou’s mouth seemed to reverberate in his chest, pounding against the walls Bakugou had so carefully built over the years. He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected Shinsou to be the one to break the silence first, to put his feelings out there so raw, so... real.

At first, Bakugou didn’t know how to react. He wanted to get angry, to snap back with something sharp, like he always did. But as Shinsou continued, as he confessed his own flaws and the pain he’d caused, something in Bakugou’s chest started to crack. He felt like he was listening to a stranger, yet the words felt so familiar, like they were speaking directly to him, to the parts of himself he’d buried deep down.

"Shut up," Bakugou whispered, almost instinctively. He wanted to tell Shinsou to stop, to tell him that he didn’t need to hear it, that it was too late for apologies. But his voice faltered halfway through, the words getting caught in his throat. The anger he’d expected to feel wasn’t there. What replaced it was a gnawing feeling—an ache in his chest that he couldn’t ignore.

As Shinsou continued, his voice cracking and his words growing more vulnerable, Bakugou’s mind raced. He didn’t want to feel this, didn’t want to let Shinsou’s confession break through the walls he’d built. But it was too late. Every word that Shinsou said pierced through the defenses Bakugou had spent so much time erecting. 

“I care about you, Bakugou. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”

The words hung in the air, echoing in Bakugou’s mind, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. He froze, caught between disbelief and something else—something deeper. The part of him that was always angry, always pushing people away, told him to run, to keep his distance and never let anyone get this close. But the other part of him—the part he never let anyone see—was shaking, trembling in the face of what Shinsou had just said. He didn’t know how to respond. His heart was beating faster now, each beat louder in his ears as he struggled to make sense of it all.

He cares about me...

The thought was almost foreign to him. Bakugou had never been one to let anyone get close, and certainly not anyone like Shinsou. The teasing, the constant back-and-forth—they had always kept it light, fun even, but now... now it felt like it had been so much more all along. And the idea that Shinsou might feel the same way? That scared Bakugou more than anything.

That was the thought that kept spinning in his mind as he listened to Shinsou’s words, trying to shield himself from the emotional storm brewing inside him. But as the seconds ticked by, he couldn’t help but feel the cracks widening in the walls he’d so carefully built around his heart.

But deep down, he realized something: Shinsou’s apology, his confession—it was the first time anyone had ever been so open, so vulnerable with him. And for a split second, Bakugou allowed himself to hope. Maybe this wasn’t the end. Maybe it could be the beginning of something else, something he didn’t understand but was willing to figure out.

I don’t want to lose him , Bakugou thought, the words finally forming in his mind, but he was too afraid to say them out loud. How could he? How could he admit that he was scared of losing someone who meant so much to him when he hadn’t even known how much they’d meant to him until now?

He looked at Shinsou, his face softening for the first time in what felt like forever. And despite all the anger, despite all the confusion swirling in his chest, Bakugou found himself wanting to reach out—to say something, anything, to bridge the gap that had formed between them.

But instead, he just stared at Shinsou, his chest tight, unsure of what to say next.

What now? Bakugou thought, his voice barely a whisper in his mind. What the hell do I do now?

Shinsou had just confessed it all. Everything he had been keeping hidden, every ounce of guilt, regret, and shame that weighed him down. And here he was, sitting in front of Bakugou, laying it all bare, his voice shaking with raw honesty. The sight of Shinsou so vulnerable, so exposed, made Bakugou feel like his chest was being crushed under the weight of everything unsaid between them.

“You better be,” Bakugou muttered, his voice a little quieter than he meant it to be. He couldn’t help it—he was still angry, still hurt, but there was a part of him that felt the edges of that anger softening, like the sharpness of it was slipping away with each passing second. The world had seemed so simple when he could just push people away, when he could be the one in control. But with Shinsou, everything had gotten complicated. The walls he had built up around his heart were cracking under the weight of the truth that Shinsou had just laid bare.

Shinsou’s gaze dropped to the floor, his expression darkening with guilt. His throat tightened, and for a moment, it seemed like he was choking on the words he wanted to say but couldn’t. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Bakugou... I just—I didn’t know what I was doing.” His voice was softer now, barely above a whisper. "I should've said something sooner. I should’ve... done something different."

Bakugou’s gaze flicked to him, catching the way Shinsou’s eyes flickered with remorse. He didn’t want to care about that look. He didn’t want to care about the fact that Shinsou was genuinely apologizing, or that he looked like he was trying to understand what had gone wrong. Bakugou hated how his heart squeezed in his chest, the part of him that always shoved others away, fighting against the pull of something deeper inside him. But it was there, in the pit of his stomach—something raw and real that he couldn’t ignore anymore. And the fact that Shinsou was apologizing... it didn’t feel like he was just doing it to make things right, but because he cared. 

Bakugou gritted his teeth, still unsure what to do with this overwhelming mess of feelings that was quickly consuming him. “You still fucked up,” he said, his voice tight, but this time, there was no real heat behind it. The anger, the edge in his tone, had dulled, replaced by something quieter, something more confusing. “But you’re right. You fucked up, and you owe me that much. So, yeah. I guess... I guess I’ll accept it.”

Shinsou’s face softened, but there was still a flicker of apprehension in his eyes. “Thank you, Bakugou.”

Bakugou stared at him for a moment, still unsure of where to go from here. It wasn’t like everything was fixed. It wasn’t like they were suddenly going to be okay just because Shinsou apologized. But... it was a start. And it felt like something had shifted. Maybe it was just the smallest of cracks in the wall Bakugou had built around himself, but that was all he could handle right now. 

“I don’t want this to be some dumb, awkward thing between us,” Bakugou muttered, crossing his arms over his chest as if to protect himself from whatever emotional chaos was threatening to spill over. “Just... don’t do that again. I don’t need you to play games with me. If you want to apologize, then just apologize. If you want to talk about it, then fucking talk about it.”

Shinsou nodded, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I will. I promise.”

For a long moment, the two of them just sat there, the silence hanging between them, but it wasn’t the oppressive silence of before. It was different now. It felt... tentative, like a new beginning. A fragile peace.

Shinsou shifted slightly, and Bakugou couldn’t stop the sudden awareness that hit him—how close they were, how much the space between them had shrunk over the course of their conversation. His heart hammered in his chest as his gaze flicked up to meet Shinsou’s, and for the first time in days, Bakugou didn’t feel the urge to push him away.

What the hell is this? Bakugou thought, his pulse racing. Why do I feel like this now?

Shinsou seemed to notice the shift, too. His eyes softened, and there was something in his expression—something Bakugou couldn’t quite place—that made his chest tighten all over again. It was like an unspoken understanding was passing between them, but Bakugou still wasn’t sure where they stood.

He couldn’t afford to get his hopes up. Not now. Not yet. 

But somehow, even as his mind screamed at him to shut down the feelings stirring inside, Bakugou couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something deeper. Something that scared the hell out of him.

"Just... don't break me, okay?" Bakugou said quietly, more to himself than to Shinsou, his voice a little shaky despite himself.

Shinsou’s gaze softened further, and he nodded slowly. “I’ll try not to, Bakugou. I swear.”

The silence between them lingered for a moment longer before Bakugou stood, dusting off his pants as if trying to shake off the weight of the conversation. “Alright, well... I guess we’re still waiting for rescue then. Fucking annoying.”

Shinsou chuckled, the tension easing just a little more. “Yeah. Annoying.”

But this time, Bakugou didn’t feel the same sense of frustration and anger he usually did in Shinsou’s presence. Instead, as he glanced over at Shinsou, he felt something different. Something complicated, but maybe—just maybe—something worth exploring.

And for the first time, Bakugou didn’t mind the thought of whatever came next.

–

The sound of heavy machinery above them, a distant rumble, grew louder as the rescue team worked frantically to clear the debris. The air in the basement seemed to grow thicker as they waited, but there was something oddly comforting about knowing they were close to being free. They could hear voices, muffled but clear enough to know that help was on the way. 

Bakugou, still sitting on the cold ground, couldn’t shake the heavy weight of everything that had happened. His head was spinning, trying to process everything that had been said, all the things he’d been holding in since that night, and now this. But all of it was tangled up in a way that left him more confused than ever.

The tension between him and Shinsou hadn’t dissolved, but something had shifted, just slightly. There was no more yelling, no more anger. Instead, there was this lingering sense of waiting—of both of them unsure how to move forward. 

Shinsou, for his part, hadn’t said much since the apology. His eyes had been on the ground for the most part, but every now and then, Bakugou would catch him looking his way, and it made his heart race. Shinsou was calm, composed, but Bakugou could see the guilt and uncertainty written in the lines of his face, the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach out but didn’t know how.

The minutes dragged on, and it felt like a thousand different thoughts passed through Bakugou’s head. The rubble above them seemed to groan with the weight of it all, but there was no escaping the reality of what had been said between them. His chest tightened again, and for a moment, he almost felt like he was suffocating in the silence.

Then, without warning, Shinsou’s voice broke the tension, soft and hesitant. “Hey, Bakugou…”

He turned, meeting Shinsou’s eyes. There was an unspoken question there, and even though Bakugou didn’t know what the answer was, it felt like maybe—just maybe—they could start figuring it out.

“Thanks... for saving me earlier,” Shinsou said, his voice barely more than a whisper, but Bakugou heard the sincerity in it. “I... I don’t want things to be weird between us, okay?”

The words hit Bakugou harder than he expected. For a split second, he felt the old defensive walls rising up, ready to shut everything down again, but something else—something deeper—made him stay quiet, made him let the words settle in.

“Yeah, well…” Bakugou started, the words not coming easy, but he still needed to say them. “You don’t get to apologize for all that, Shinsou. Not just like that.” His voice softened despite himself, and he stared at the ground, feeling exposed again, vulnerable in a way he hated.

Before Shinsou could respond, the distant hum of machinery grew louder, and then the first of the rescue team appeared, followed by a flash of bright light. Shinsou looked toward the noise, relief washing over his face.

Bakugou felt the weight of everything they had yet to say still hanging in the air, but now wasn’t the time to hash it all out. They had to survive first.

The team quickly moved to pull the debris away, and Bakugou found himself standing, his legs sore but steady, as he helped Shinsou to his feet. As they moved toward the exit, Bakugou glanced at Shinsou again, meeting his gaze for just a second longer than necessary.

Neither of them said anything more, but something unspoken passed between them as they stepped out of the rubble and into the light of the rescue team. The tension wasn’t gone, but the weight of it wasn’t as suffocating anymore.

They would deal with it. Eventually.

–

It was now the weekend, and the days since their near-death experience felt like a blur. Bakugou didn’t know how to feel about it all. On one hand, he was still angry—still hurt. The damage had been done, and it wasn't something that could be easily fixed with words. But on the other hand, he couldn't deny the effort Shinsou had put in over the past few days. The awkward silence that used to hang between them had slowly started to dissipate, replaced by an unspoken understanding.

Shinsou had been trying, really trying, in ways that Bakugou couldn’t ignore. He didn’t shy away anymore, didn’t deflect with teasing remarks or distant behavior. There were no more walls, no more pretending like everything was fine. Shinsou seemed to understand how much he had fucked up, and with every action, every word, he showed Bakugou that he was genuinely trying to make things right.

Bakugou had to admit, part of him was grateful. Another part, though... the stubborn, proud part, couldn’t let go of how much it hurt to be left in the dark. To have his feelings pushed aside, dismissed so easily. Even if Shinsou was trying, was apologizing, it didn’t erase the sting. 

But as the weekend wore on, something shifted. Bakugou began to notice the little things—the way Shinsou was always there when he needed him, the quiet concern in his eyes when Bakugou was caught up in his thoughts. The way their conversations had turned from awkward, forced exchanges to something more natural, more comfortable. The tension that had once weighed heavily between them started to dissipate, replaced by something that was still fragile, but growing stronger.

Bakugou wasn’t sure what to make of it. Could he forgive Shinsou? Could he let go of the anger and hurt, and give him a chance to make things right?

What surprised Bakugou even more than the quiet, thoughtful gestures Shinsou had been making over the past few days was what happened on Saturday night. He had been sprawled out on his bed, mind still running through all the mixed emotions that had been swirling around in his chest, when suddenly, the door to his room burst open.

Shinsou stood there, framed by the doorway, with a look in his eyes that Bakugou hadn’t seen before. There was no teasing, no mask of indifference. There was only raw intent—like he was making up his mind about something, and whatever it was, he wasn’t going to back down.

Bakugou blinked, sitting up on his bed, heart racing in confusion and something else he couldn’t place. “Oi, what the hell do you think you're doing barging in here like that?” His voice came out sharper than he meant, but there was no mistaking the nervous flicker in his chest. He wasn’t sure what to expect from Shinsou anymore, and the unpredictability made him uneasy.

Shinsou didn’t even flinch at Bakugou’s words. His gaze didn’t waver, and he took a single step into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. “We need to talk,” he said, his voice low, serious. The tone sent a shiver down Bakugou’s spine, and he suddenly felt like he was standing on the edge of something, teetering between anger, confusion, and the strange sensation of vulnerability he wasn’t used to.

Bakugou stood up abruptly, his fists clenching at his sides as his chest tightened. He had half a mind to shout at Shinsou to get out, but something in Shinsou’s expression stopped him. The way his jaw was set, the way his brows were furrowed just slightly as though he was bracing for something... it made Bakugou hesitate.

Shinsou took another step closer, closing the distance between them, and for the first time in days, Bakugou felt like the world was closing in around him. Not in a suffocating way, but in a way that made his heart beat harder, faster, like he was standing on the edge of something he couldn’t escape. It was both terrifying and... strangely relieving.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Shinsou continued, his voice quieter now, but firm. “And I get it. You’ve got every right to be pissed. But I can’t fix anything if you don’t let me.” His gaze softened, just a fraction, but the vulnerability in his eyes was clear. "I can’t just keep pretending like everything’s fine when it’s not."

Bakugou’s throat tightened, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. He hated how raw and honest Shinsou was being right now. He hated how much it was affecting him. He didn’t want to feel this exposed, this... open.

“What do you want from me, Shinsou?” Bakugou’s voice cracked slightly, but he quickly cleared his throat, masking it with irritation. “I’ve been dealing with your bullshit for days now. What is it you’re expecting me to do, huh?”

Shinsou took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving Bakugou’s. “I’m not expecting you to forgive me right away, or to forget everything that happened. But I need you to know that I’m not going anywhere. And I’m not going to let you push me away again, not when I... when I care too damn much.”

The words hit Bakugou like a punch to the gut, and for a second, he could only stare at Shinsou, unable to find the words to respond. His chest felt tight, like the weight of everything—his anger, his confusion, his hurt—was all crushing him in that moment. Shinsou’s presence in his room, the intensity in his eyes, the way he was standing there... it was all too much, too soon. But somehow, it felt right. 

Bakugou swallowed hard, trying to steady his breathing. “You’re... you’re serious about this, huh?”

Shinsou nodded, his expression softening just a bit. “I’ve never been more serious about anything.”

And just like that, the walls that Bakugou had so carefully built around himself started to crack, piece by piece. He wasn’t sure what was happening, or how things would turn out. But in that moment, with Shinsou standing there, the air thick with tension and something else—something like hope, maybe—Bakugou realized that he didn’t want to push him away anymore.

He didn’t want to be alone in this anymore. Not with Shinsou standing right in front of him.

But of course, this is Shinsou we’re talking about, and it didn’t take long before he ruined the moment.

Shinsou’s words came out unexpectedly, casual and teasing, as though they had been the most normal thing in the world. “Hey, how about make-up sex? Or maybe whip out that vibrator of yours, ya know, it could be the answer to all our problems.”

The moment the words left Shinsou’s mouth, Bakugou’s entire body went rigid. His face flushed bright red, and he screeched—yes, screeched—so loudly that it might’ve made even Aizawa cringe in embarrassment. His hands shot up to his face as if trying to physically shield himself from the absolute catastrophe of a conversation Shinsou had just thrown his way. 

“W-What the fuck did you just say?!” Bakugou stammered, his voice coming out far too high-pitched and frantic for his liking. His heart was pounding against his chest, and he could feel the heat spreading from his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. If there had been a way to spontaneously combust from sheer embarrassment, Bakugou would have done it right there.

Shinsou, on the other hand, only looked mildly entertained by the whole thing. He smirked, leaning casually against the doorframe as if he hadn't just dropped an emotional bombshell. “What? Too much?” he teased, his voice laced with that infuriating, irresistible confidence that seemed to drive Bakugou up the wall. “Come on, Katsuki, you can’t tell me you weren’t thinking about it.”

Bakugou’s brain short-circuited for a moment, overwhelmed by Shinsou’s casual suggestion and the ridiculousness of the entire situation. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to throttle Shinsou for being so infuriating or crawl into a hole and never come out.

“No—no way!” Bakugou sputtered, his fists clenched at his sides, trembling from both anger and sheer mortification. “I-I wasn’t thinking about that at all, you—fuck—don’t even bring it up! What the hell is wrong with you?!” His voice kept cracking, and it was clear that his attempts to stay composed were failing spectacularly.

Shinsou chuckled, clearly enjoying the spectacle in front of him, though there was a glint of something else in his eyes—a mix of amusement and maybe, just maybe, something softer. He pushed off from the doorframe, walking closer, and Bakugou instinctively took a step back.

“You’re so easy to mess with, you know that?” Shinsou said with a smile that was almost smug, but it was the kind of smile that held a hint of affection, something deeper than just teasing.

Bakugou wanted to scream again. “Shut up, you bastard!” he yelled, turning on his heel and heading for the door. He needed to escape. Now. “I don’t have to take this from you!” His voice was still high-pitched and absolutely mortified, but there was no way he could stay there and let Shinsou keep messing with him like this.

But before he could make it past the door, Shinsou grabbed his arm, pulling him back gently. “Alright, alright, no need to run off like a child. I was just messing with you,” he said, his expression softening, though there was still that playful glint in his eyes.

Bakugou narrowed his eyes, still burning with embarrassment but at least willing to listen. “You better be,” he muttered, trying to push away from Shinsou’s grasp, but not quite enough to pull away entirely. Deep down, Bakugou was too embarrassed to be mad at him for long.

Shinsou didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled Bakugou just a little closer, his smirk fading into something more genuine. “Look, I know I said something dumb. I just... wanted to break the tension. But seriously,” Shinsou said, his tone more sincere now, “if we’re gonna fix things, we need to talk. About everything. Not just... that.”

Bakugou, still flushed but now a little less tense, exhaled through his nose, trying to calm himself down. He could feel the weight of Shinsou’s words hanging in the air, and it was enough to snap him out of the initial embarrassment.

“Yeah, I guess we do,” Bakugou muttered, though his voice was quieter, less frantic. He glanced up at Shinsou, meeting his gaze. The teasing was still there, but there was something else behind it. Something real.

And maybe, just maybe, the real conversation they needed to have wasn’t so bad after all.

Shinsou’s gaze softened, and before Bakugou could even react, he leaned in. The kiss was sudden, but not entirely unexpected, and it caught Bakugou off guard. His brain short-circuited again as Shinsou’s lips pressed against his, a little firmer than he anticipated, but soft in a way that made the entire world around them disappear.

For a moment, Bakugou just froze. His mind was still whirling, trying to catch up with what had just happened. Was Shinsou serious? Did he actually just—? His hands were at his sides, unsure whether to push Shinsou away or pull him closer. But then, as if Shinsou could feel his hesitation, he deepened the kiss, his fingers gently cupping Bakugou’s face, his thumb brushing over his jawline. 

The warmth of the kiss, the tenderness that seemed to seep through Shinsou’s touch, made Bakugou’s chest tighten, and suddenly all that tension he’d been holding onto melted away. It was almost like everything that had been left unsaid between them—the hurt, the confusion, the frustration—could be washed away by this one moment. And just like that, Bakugou found himself kissing him back.

The kiss wasn’t frantic. It wasn’t even about the heat of the moment or some impulsive reaction. It was... gentle, almost reassuring. And despite himself, Bakugou relaxed into it, his lips moving against Shinsou’s with a softness he hadn’t expected. 

When they finally pulled apart, Shinsou looked at him with a slightly amused, but also gentle, expression. Bakugou’s heart was racing, but for a completely different reason now. He wanted to say something—anything—but his voice caught in his throat, his mind still hazy from the kiss.

Shinsou chuckled quietly, brushing a strand of hair away from Bakugou’s face, his thumb grazing over his cheek. “You’re not going to punch me now, are you?” he teased softly, his usual smirk back, but with a softness that wasn’t there before.

Bakugou, still trying to make sense of what had just happened, let out a huff, but his lips quirked up into a small, reluctant smile. “Tch, I should,” he muttered, though the words lacked their usual bite. 

Shinsou’s smirk grew wider as he watched Bakugou’s guarded walls crack ever so slightly. He tilted his head, pretending to mull something over. “Ya know,” he started casually, “I wasn’t really serious about the whole make-up sex thing…”

Bakugou raised an eyebrow, shooting him a skeptical glare, but Shinsou’s smirk only deepened.

“…But hey,” Shinsou added with an exaggerated wiggle of his eyebrows, “people do it for a reason.”

Bakugou froze, his cheeks instantly blooming with color as the implication landed. “You’re such a damn idiot,” he growled, swatting at Shinsou’s chest, but the action was half-hearted at best. His mind raced, a dangerous mix of embarrassment and intrigue swirling within him.

Shinsou shrugged, completely unfazed, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I mean, if you wanna try, I’m just saying… I’m here for you, babe.”

“Don’t call me that!” Bakugou barked, his face impossibly red.

Bakugou didn’t know what to say to that. His face was flushed, and he could feel the heat creeping up his neck, but for the first time in days, it didn’t feel so bad. He felt something shift inside him, something that had been buried under layers of confusion and frustration.

“I’m... not sure what the hell that was,” Bakugou admitted, his voice a little rougher than usual, “but you’re right. We need to talk. For real.”

Shinsou’s smile softened, and he nodded, that look of affection still lingering in his eyes. “Yeah,” he agreed, “we do. But maybe... we can start by just being honest with each other, huh?”

Bakugou nodded slowly, feeling something settle in his chest. It wasn’t all fixed, but maybe it was the first step in the right direction. And, for once, it didn’t feel so impossible.

His gaze drifted up to meet Shinsou’s, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he saw the same raw vulnerability in those eyes that mirrored his own. It was a look that spoke more than words ever could. The tension between them was still there, lingering like the electric hum of a storm about to break, but there was a new understanding, a shift in the air.

Bakugou's heart pounded in his chest as he leaned forward, the air between them thick with unspoken words and lingering tension. His breath hitched slightly, and for a moment, he hesitated. But this time, he didn’t overthink it. He was done with the back-and-forth, the doubts that had plagued him. His lips brushed against Shinsou’s in a kiss that started as tentative, testing the waters, before he leaned in more, his fingers sliding to Shinsou's neck and pulling him closer. 

The kiss quickly deepened, and the sweetness of the initial touch faded as both of them gave into the raw intensity that had always been there, buried beneath layers of miscommunication and guilt. Bakugou’s mind was hazy with the heat building between them, blood rushing through his veins as he leaned in, his lips crashing against Shinsou’s with an almost frantic intensity. His hands, once unsure, now moved with confidence, fingers threading through Shinsou’s hair and tugging slightly as if demanding more. He wanted to feel the heat between them burn away every doubt, every insecurity.  

Shinsou groaned softly against his mouth, the sound sending a shiver down Bakugou’s spine. Bakugou’s body pressed forward instinctively, his hands gripping Shinsou’s shoulders, feeling the firm muscle beneath his palms. The sensation grounded him and set his skin ablaze all at once. He could feel the slight scratch of Shinsou’s stubble against his chin, a rough contrast to the softness of his lips, and it drove him wild. Every nerve in Bakugou's body was alive, electric, demanding he get closer—closer still.  

The faint scent of Shinsou’s cologne filled Bakugou’s senses, a mix of wood and spice that clung to his skin. It was intoxicating, and Bakugou couldn’t stop himself from leaning in deeper, tilting his head to deepen the kiss further, his teeth catching on Shinsou’s bottom lip before soothing the nip with his tongue. A low, needy sound escaped him—something he couldn’t have stopped even if he wanted to. 

Shinsou’s hands slid down to Bakugou’s waist, fingers splaying across his hips and gripping tightly, like he was anchoring himself in the storm of their passion. Bakugou felt the heat of Shinsou’s palms through his shirt, each touch sending a jolt straight to his core. It wasn’t enough. He wanted more—needed more. His hands wandered down to the hem of Shinsou’s shirt, slipping beneath the fabric to feel the warmth of his skin, the taut lines of his abdomen. Shinsou hissed softly at the contact, his breath hitching against Bakugou’s mouth.  

When they finally pulled apart, gasping for air, their breaths mingled in the narrow space between them. Bakugou’s lips were swollen, tingling from the intensity of their kiss. Shinsou’s violet eyes were dark, almost dazed, and his chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. The sight sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through Bakugou.  

“I—” Bakugou started, his voice hoarse and uneven, but he couldn’t find the words. His hands were still clutching Shinsou’s shirt, his knuckles white with how tightly he was holding on, as if letting go would mean losing the connection between them.  

Shinsou reached up, brushing his thumb gently over Bakugou’s cheek. The soft touch contrasted sharply with the desperate heat of the kiss, and Bakugou’s chest ached at the tenderness in the gesture. “Katsuki...” Shinsou murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with something Bakugou couldn’t quite name.  

Bakugou’s throat tightened, and for a moment, he hated how vulnerable he felt under Shinsou’s gaze. But there was no turning back now. He leaned forward, their foreheads pressing together, his voice trembling with raw honesty. “I need you, Hitoshi. Fuck, I—”  

Shinsou’s fingers tightened around Bakugou’s waist, holding him close, grounding him. “I know,” he whispered, his breath warm against Bakugou’s lips. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”  

The words broke something in Bakugou, and he kissed Shinsou again, harder this time, as if to pour every unspoken thought and emotion into the kiss. His fingers curled into Shinsou’s hair, pulling him closer, their lips moving in a rhythm that was wild and unrestrained. There was no room for hesitation, no space for doubt. Every kiss, every movement, was a silent plea for more, a desperate attempt to erase the distance that had been between them for far too long.  

Shinsou matched Bakugou’s intensity, his hands roaming up Bakugou’s back, fingertips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Their bodies pressed flush together, the heat between them almost unbearable. Shinsou’s lips parted against Bakugou’s, his tongue sliding past with a teasing, deliberate caress that made Bakugou groan. The sound was low and guttural, a noise he couldn’t hold back, and it only seemed to spur Shinsou on.  

Bakugou’s head spun, his mind overwhelmed by the sheer force of what they were sharing. It wasn’t just about the physical—it was everything they had been holding back, all the tension, the hurt, the love they hadn’t been able to put into words. The kiss spoke volumes, each touch saying what they hadn’t been able to.  

When they finally pulled back, their breaths ragged, Bakugou stared at Shinsou, his chest heaving. The intensity in Shinsou’s gaze made his heart race all over again. “You’re not going to ruin the moment with another dumb comment, are you?” Bakugou muttered, his voice rough but tinged with a faint, reluctant smirk.  

Shinsou chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from Bakugou’s face. “Nah,” he said, his voice warm, teasing. “I think this moment’s perfect as it is.”

And for once, Bakugou didn’t argue. He just held Shinsou’s gaze, his crimson eyes uncharacteristically soft. There was a long, charged pause between them, a stillness that felt fragile and profound.  

Then, as if realizing how exposed he was letting himself be, Bakugou huffed and sat up straighter. “Alright,” he muttered gruffly, breaking the silence. “Let’s get this over with.”  

Shinsou blinked at him, then tilted his head, a slow smirk creeping across his face. “Oh, so it’s like that, huh?”  

Bakugou didn’t respond at first, busying himself by adjusting his shirt and tugging at the hem as if it suddenly didn’t fit right. “Don’t start,” he said finally, his voice lower but no less irritated.  

“Start what?” Shinsou asked innocently, leaning back against the headboard. His smirk widened. “I didn’t say anything... yet.”  

Bakugou shot him a sharp look but didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he pulled his shirt off in one quick motion and tossed it onto the floor. The action was deliberate, as if trying to signal he wasn’t about to let Shinsou’s teasing get to him.  

Shinsou raised an eyebrow, feigning mild surprise. “Wow. No snappy comeback? I thought I’d at least get a ‘shut up, Shinsou.’” He paused, eyes glinting with mischief. “Or is this because you’re finally realizing how right I was about the whole ‘make-up sex’ thing?”  

Bakugou froze mid-motion, his hands on the waistband of his sweatpants. His neck turned bright red, and he refused to look up. “You’re such a dumbass,” he growled under his breath, yanking his pants off and tossing them aside with unnecessary force.  

“Am I, though?” Shinsou asked, clearly enjoying himself. He tilted his head, his voice dropping into that rich, smooth tone that always got under Bakugou’s skin. “I mean, here we are, in bed, about to... you know. Kinda seems like I hit the nail on the head.”  

“Don’t push it,” Bakugou snapped, his face now fully flushed. He grabbed the small bottle of lube from the bedside table and unscrewed the cap with a practiced efficiency that almost made Shinsou laugh.  

“Whoa, whoa,” Shinsou said, holding up his hands as if in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll shut up. For now.” He leaned forward, his tone softening as he added, “But seriously, Katsuki, you don’t have to rush. I’m not going anywhere.”  

Bakugou’s hands paused, the bottle of lube halfway open. The words settled over him like a warm blanket, and it wasn’t just the meaning behind them that struck him—it was the name. His first name. Katsuki.

“When the hell did he start calling me that?” Bakugou thought, a faint blush creeping up his neck. His heart gave an uncharacteristic flutter, the sound of his name spoken in Shinsou’s low, soothing voice stirring something unfamiliar yet comforting within him.

Shinsou tilted his head, noticing the sudden stillness. “You good?” he asked, his tone calm but laced with curiosity.

Bakugou swallowed hard, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Tch. ‘M fine,” he muttered, his voice gruff, though he could still feel the warmth spreading through him. It wasn’t just embarrassment—there was a strange, quiet joy in hearing Shinsou use his name so casually, like it belonged to him in some unspoken way.

Shinsou smirked slightly, leaning back on his hands. “You sure? You’ve been staring at that bottle like it’s got all the answers to life’s mysteries.”

“Shut up,” Bakugou snapped, his cheeks burning now. He hastily unscrewed the cap and poured some of the lube onto his hand, hyper-focused on the task as if it would distract him from the way his chest felt annoyingly warm and full.

Still, even as he worked, the sound of Shinsou saying “Katsuki” lingered in his mind, refusing to leave. It didn’t feel bad, though. If anything, it made him feel… grounded. Like he wasn’t just “Bakugou, the loud-mouthed hothead,” but something softer, something more real, in Shinsou’s eyes.

And damn it if that didn’t make him want to hide his face entirely.

Bakugou let out a slow, shaky breath, something quiet, more uncertain.

Shinsou watched him carefully, his teasing smile softening into something more genuine. He reached out and placed a hand on Bakugou’s wrist, stilling him. “Hey,” he said gently. “We can go as slow as you need. No pressure, no expectations. Just... us.”  

Bakugou’s shoulders sagged slightly, the tension bleeding out of him. He finally looked up at Shinsou, his crimson eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and defiance. “Tch. You’re making it weird now.”  

Shinsou laughed, the sound warm and easy. “Oh, I’m making it weird? That’s rich coming from the guy who treats foreplay like a battle strategy.”  

“Shut up, Hitoshi,” Bakugou grumbled, but there was no heat in his words. Testing Shinsou’s first name on his tongue. He shook his head, muttering under his breath as he climbed onto the bed.  

Bakugou slicked his fingers quickly, his movements brisk and efficient, like he was trying to get it over with before he could second-guess himself. His jaw was set, determination written in every tense line of his body. One hand pressed firmly to the bed to steady himself, the other disappearing behind him without hesitation.  

Shinsou blinked, momentarily taken aback by how direct Bakugou was being, but he wasn’t about to complain. Not when Bakugou had taken this step on his own terms. Not when the sight before him was something he wouldn’t trade for anything.  

A faint hitch in Bakugou’s breath broke the silence, and Shinsou’s gaze softened. The hitch wasn’t from hesitation but from the sensation itself, an unfamiliar vulnerability. The flush that crept up the back of Bakugou’s neck was subtle, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Shinsou bit back a soft smile, letting the moment unfold without breaking the fragile atmosphere.  

“Take your time,” Shinsou murmured, his voice low and even, meant to ground rather than rush.  

Bakugou shot him a glare over his shoulder, though it lacked its usual bite. “I know that, idiot. Don’t need you telling me.”  

“Noted,” Shinsou replied, raising his hands in mock surrender. He kept his tone light but didn’t look away, his eyes filled with admiration and an unspoken promise that Bakugou could go at his own pace.  

For all his bluster, Bakugou’s movements remained deliberate. His fingers worked with a precision that spoke to his determination to make this moment perfect—or at least good enough that he wouldn’t regret it later. A quiet, shaky exhale escaped his lips as he pressed in, his muscles tensing slightly before relaxing under his own control.  

Shinsou felt his heart swell at the sight. Bakugou didn’t need words to convey how much he was trusting him, how much this act—no matter how small or simple—meant. Shinsou knew better than to speak now; he wouldn’t interrupt Bakugou’s focus, wouldn’t dare disturb the courage it had taken to get here.  

Instead, he settled back slightly, watching with reverence as Bakugou continued, the tension in his body easing as he grew accustomed to the sensations. Shinsou’s lips quirked into a faint smile. He’d take whatever Bakugou gave him, no matter how rough, no matter how slow or cautious. It wasn’t about the pace or the act itself—it was about them .  

When Bakugou shifted, letting out a soft, involuntary noise that he immediately tried to stifle, Shinsou couldn’t help but murmur, “You’re amazing, you know that?”  

“Shut up, Hitoshi,” Bakugou muttered, though his voice cracked just enough to betray how much the words affected him.  

Shinsou’s smile widened, his tone unwaveringly gentle. “Not gonna happen. Not when you’re like this.”  

Bakugou huffed, but he didn’t stop, didn’t falter. And Shinsou stayed right there with him, silent for the most part, but present, steady, and ready to catch him if he fell.  

Shinsou just grinned, scooting closer and resting his chin in his hand as he watched Bakugou prepare himself with an intensity that was both endearing and oddly impressive. “For what it’s worth,” he said softly, his voice laced with affection, “you’re kinda cute when you’re like this.”  

“Yeah, well,” Bakugou muttered, refusing to meet his gaze as his hands worked deftly, “don’t get used to it.”  

Shinsou smiled, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to Bakugou’s temple. “Too late for that,” he murmured.  

And for once, Bakugou didn’t argue.  

Shinsou’s gaze flicked to the slightly open bedside table, his attention momentarily drawn by a glint of something familiar. His eyes narrowed with a mischievous gleam. The vibrator of miracles —a nickname he’d affectionately dubbed the object after that memorable experience—was lying there in plain sight, almost as if it had been placed strategically for this very moment. 

Bakugou was distracted, his focus entirely on himself and the task at hand. Shinsou took a steadying breath, a smirk curling on his lips. This was the perfect time to play.  

Silently, he shifted closer to the nightstand, his fingers sliding open the drawer just enough to retrieve the vibrator. It was small, sleek, and surprisingly powerful—just enough to do the trick without being overwhelming. He held it in his hand, inspecting it for a second before turning it on, the soft hum of the device filling the room.  

The sound didn’t seem to catch Bakugou’s attention, his concentration on his own movements as he steadied himself on the bed. Shinsou’s grin widened. He was about to add a little extra spark to this moment.  

He slid closer, placing the vibrator down for a second to trace his fingertips along Bakugou’s arm. The contact was light, almost teasing.  

Bakugou tensed, his head snapping to the side, his eyes narrowing. “What the hell are you up to, Hitoshi?” His voice still had that edge of irritation, but there was something beneath it—something less certain.  

Shinsou chuckled softly, his fingers brushing the side of Bakugou’s neck, sending a shiver through the blonde. “Just trying to make things a little more interesting.” His voice was low, playful, as he reached over and lightly pressed the vibrator against Bakugou’s side.  

Bakugou’s eyes widened in realization, his mouth opening to protest, but before he could get a word out, Shinsou switched the vibrator to a higher setting, pressing it just below Bakugou’s hip. Slowly sliding it closer and close to his goal.  

The sudden sensation made Bakugou gasp, a jolt running through his body. His hands shot down to grasp at the bed for stability, his breath hitching at the unexpected turn of events. “You— goddammit —what the hell, Hitoshi?”  

Shinsou’s smile was all mischief, eyes alight with amusement. “You said you didn’t need me telling you what to do. But you didn’t specify how I could help.”  

Bakugou was torn between annoyance and something else—something that made his heart race faster than he wanted to admit. He clenched his teeth, trying to ignore the way his body responded to the pressure, to the teasing vibration against his skin.  

“Just— fuck , don’t make me regret this, Hitoshi,” Bakugou gritted out, his voice strained as he clenched the sheets beneath him.  

Shinsou leaned in closer, the grin never leaving his face as he softly pressed the vibrator against Bakugou’s side again. “Oh, you won’t regret it. Trust me.” His voice was low, comforting in a way that made Bakugou’s muscles twitch in anticipation.  

Bakugou didn’t argue. He couldn’t, not when the mixture of frustration and pleasure was coursing through his veins, the vibrations teasing him just enough to make him forget about his stubborn pride. And Shinsou was there, watching him, offering this subtle yet potent form of control that Bakugou hadn’t expected but now didn’t want to lose. 

With a final breath, Bakugou surrendered to it, letting the sensation flood him as he let go of whatever grip he had left on his pride.

As the vibrations continued, Bakugou’s mind clouded with a mixture of sensations, a fire igniting inside him that made him unable to focus on anything but the pressure building in his body. His breath came in uneven bursts, body tensing and relaxing with each subtle change in pressure from Shinsou’s careful hands. Every time the vibrator pressed against him, it felt like his control was slipping further and further away.

Shinsou noticed, his smirk growing wider as Bakugou’s harsh, stuttered breaths became more apparent. It was clear that the blonde was torn between anger and something else—something more primal. Shinsou loved the challenge of unraveling him, testing just how far Bakugou could be pushed before he finally gave in.

"See? Told you you'd like it," Shinsou teased, his voice low and playful, as his fingers grazed Bakugou’s neck, tracing along his jaw. He leaned in, close enough that Bakugou could feel his breath, but not close enough to offer what he truly wanted. It was a game, one that Shinsou knew Bakugou was just as eager to play.  

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed in irritation, but his voice was breathless. “ Shut up ,” he growled, his body involuntarily arching into the touch. He didn’t want to admit how much he was enjoying it, how much it was pushing him to the edge of something he wasn’t sure he was ready for. His hands fisted at the sheets, his knuckles white as he tried to ground himself in something solid, anything to pull himself together.

Shinsou could see the struggle—Bakugou was fighting it, still clinging to that last bit of control. But Shinsou was relentless, the vibrator staying firmly in place as he leaned over Bakugou’s body, his lips brushing lightly against the shell of his ear.

“Just relax, Kitten,” Shinsou murmured, his voice thick with amusement. “Let go for once. I promise I’ll make it worth it.”

The last words did something to Bakugou. A spark of defiance still burned inside him, but the sweet pressure was becoming too much to ignore. He was already so far gone that the thought of pushing back against Shinsou felt distant. So, instead, he chose to let out a growl of frustration, pushing himself against the vibrator once more, as if to get a fraction of the satisfaction he so desperately craved.

Shinsou hummed, satisfied by Bakugou’s reaction. He could feel Bakugou’s body slowly begin to relax beneath him, the sharp edges of tension in his muscles giving way to something softer, something more vulnerable. 

"That's it," Shinsou said softly, pressing the vibrator harder against Bakugou, coaxing him further into surrender. “Let it go.”

Bakugou’s breath caught again, and he swore under his breath, his hips moving involuntarily as he tried to find a rhythm with the vibrations, chasing that elusive release. He didn’t want to admit it, but there was something intoxicating about letting someone else take control—something that made his heart race in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

The vibrator hummed louder, and Shinsou adjusted the angle slightly, making Bakugou hiss as the new sensation sent a wave of heat rushing through his body. He couldn’t stop himself anymore, not with Shinsou so close, not with the hum of the vibrator pushing him to the brink.  

"Hitoshi..." Bakugou growled, his voice shaky, a subtle desperation in it now. It was the first time he’d said his name like that, soft and pleading, as if he were seeking something.  

Shinsou didn’t respond immediately, instead leaning closer until his lips were just above Bakugou’s, his breath mingling with the blonde’s rapid exhalations. “Yeah?” Shinsou murmured, a playful gleam in his eyes. "What do you want, ‘Tsuki? Say it."

It was an invitation, but it was also a challenge. Bakugou’s pride was still fighting against the vulnerability, but it was slowly slipping away, replaced by raw need.

“I—I need— fuck —” Bakugou’s words faltered, his body twitching with a combination of frustration and desire. He gripped the sheets harder, teeth gritted, trying to hold onto whatever fragments of control he had left. But the tremors were beginning to overtake him.

Shinsou smiled, fully aware of what Bakugou was asking, even if he couldn’t say it outright. “I know. Just let go, Baby. You don’t have to fight it.”

Bakugou’s chest heaved, and the moment he finally relaxed, fully surrendering to the sensation, was the moment the pressure in his body became too much to resist. A wave of heat flooded through him as he finally gave in, a strangled cry escaping his lips as the world seemed to blur and collapse around him. 

Shinsou’s smirk softened, his hand gently resting on Bakugou’s side as he allowed the blonde to ride out the wave of release. It wasn’t just about the physical sensation—it was about the trust, the raw vulnerability that Bakugou had allowed himself to show. Shinsou knew just how rare that was, and how much it meant.

As Bakugou’s breathing slowly steadied, Shinsou pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “Told you it’d be worth it,” he whispered.

Bakugou’s response was a low, gruff sound—something that wasn’t quite a word but carried with it a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. The fight was over, at least for now. And, for the first time in a long while, Bakugou felt at peace, his chest heaving as he worked to steady his breath.

Shinsou, perched beside him, couldn’t help but smirk in quiet triumph. His gaze drifted over Bakugou’s spent form, taking in the way his muscles still trembled faintly, his skin flushed and glistening. The sight of Bakugou so undone, twitching and panting in the aftermath, was a reward in itself. The vibrator he'd used was still buzzing quietly on the bed, slick with lube and Bakugou's fluids. Bakugou's hole was spasming visibly, flushed dark pink and dripping wet.

But Bakugou wasn't done yet, not by a long shot. With a low moan, he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, ass swaying enticingly in the air as he presented himself for Shinsou. "More," he growled demandingly, glancing over his shoulder with a lust-blown gaze. "Fuck me. Come on. Use your mouth and fingers, fuck anything. Prep me good for your cock."

Shinsou's eyebrows shot up, a slow grin spreading across his face as he processed Bakugou's gruff demand. His violet eyes gleamed with a teasing light, but there was no mistaking the heat in them. “Bossy now, huh?” he quipped, his tone low and laced with mischief. 

Bakugou shot him a sharp glare, the flush on his cheeks deepening. “You gonna talk all night or do what I said?” he snapped, though his voice was unsteady, betraying his impatience.

“Alright, alright,” Shinsou murmured, his grin never fading. He adjusted his position, leaning in until his lips were just inches from Bakugou’s flushed skin. “I love it when you get demanding, you know that? Makes it so much more fun to mess with you.”

“Hitoshi,” Bakugou growled, his voice rough with warning, but the quiver in his tone only made Shinsou’s smirk widen.

“Relax,” Shinsou said softly, his voice dropping to that familiar, soothing cadence. He pressed a kiss to Bakugou’s inner thigh, his lips lingering just long enough to feel the muscle tense beneath him. “I’ll take care of you.”

Without waiting for a response, Shinsou began to trail kisses along Bakugou’s sensitive skin, his mouth moving with deliberate slowness as his hands found their way to Bakugou’s hips. His fingers were warm and steady, tracing gentle patterns over the sharp lines of muscle before sliding lower, teasingly brushing over the places that made Bakugou’s breath hitch.

Shinsou's mouth finally moved closer, his tongue darting out to trace a soft, deliberate line that made Bakugou’s body arch involuntarily. A low, shuddering breath escaped the blonde as he gripped the sheets tighter, his resolve wavering with each calculated movement.

“You taste so damn good,” Shinsou murmured against Bakugou’s skin, his voice husky with genuine appreciation. His fingers moved to join the fray, slicking themselves quickly before pressing gently against Bakugou, coaxing his body to relax under his touch.

Bakugou bit back a sound, his head falling back as Shinsou’s mouth and fingers worked in tandem, sending sparks of pleasure through his entire body. He felt exposed, vulnerable, but he couldn’t bring himself to care—not when Shinsou was looking at him like that, his eyes dark with focus and desire.

“More,” Bakugou demanded, his voice strained but firm. “Don’t hold back.”

Shinsou chuckled softly, but there was no mistaking the way his pupils dilated at the command. “Yes, sir,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement as he pressed his fingers deeper, curling them just right. His mouth followed suit, finding every sensitive spot and lavishing it with attention until Bakugou was trembling beneath him, his breaths coming in ragged, uneven gasps.

The tension in Bakugou’s body ebbed and flowed like a tide, each wave bringing him closer to the edge. He could feel the heat pooling low in his abdomen, threatening to consume him entirely. But instead of fear, there was something exhilarating about letting Shinsou take control, about letting him handle him with such care and precision.

“You’re doing so good,” Shinsou murmured, his voice soft but filled with reverence. “Just a little more, and I’ll give you everything you want.”

Bakugou’s only response was a low, guttural sound, his body arching into Shinsou’s touch as if chasing the sensations that were quickly overwhelming him. 

"Fuck, just put it inside me already," Bakugou whined, rocking wantonly against Shinsou's touch. Shinsou chuckled darkly as he continued sliding two slick fingers into Bakugou's fluttering hole alongside. Bakugou moaned brokenly as he was breached, his greedy ass clamping down on the welcome invasion. 

Bakugou’s whine turned into a choked gasp, his body jerking as Shinsou pressed the vibrator against him again. The soft hum of the device mixed with the slick sounds of Shinsou’s fingers, creating an atmosphere thick with heat and desperation. Bakugou’s hands fisted the sheets beneath him, his knuckles white as he rocked back, his movements frantic and needy.

“Look at you,” Shinsou murmured, his voice dark with amusement and desire. “So eager, Kitten. Love your reactions.” He punctuated his words by curling his fingers just right, brushing against that spot inside Bakugou that made his back arch and a ragged moan tear from his throat.

“S-shut up,” Bakugou ground out, though his voice lacked its usual bite. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to focus on the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. “Just—ah—keep going.”

Shinsou smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to the base of Bakugou’s spine. “Anything for you,” he said, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. He slid the vibrator along Bakugou’s entrance, teasing him with the vibrations as he continued working his fingers inside, stretching him with a care that felt both maddeningly slow and perfectly deliberate.

The blonde whined again, his hips pushing back against the dual stimulation. The pressure, the stretch, and the vibrations combined into a heady mix that made his head spin. “More,” he demanded, his voice breaking on the word as his body trembled. “Don’t—don’t make me wait.”

Shinsou chuckled, his amusement evident even as his own breaths grew heavier, his self-control teetering on the edge. “Greedy little thing,” he murmured, but there was no malice in his tone, only adoration. He adjusted his grip, pressing the vibrator harder, just enough to make Bakugou cry out, his body clenching around the intrusion.

“That’s it,” Shinsou encouraged, his voice low and soothing. “Take it, Babe. You can handle it.” He added a third finger, stretching Bakugou further.

Bakugou’s head fell forward, his breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. The sensations were almost too much, his body caught between the unrelenting pressure and the vibrating intensity. “Fuck, Toshi,” he groaned, his voice muffled against the sheets. “You’re such a bastard.”

“Maybe,” Shinsou replied, his grin widening as he pressed the vibrator in deeper, earning another choked moan. “But you love it. And you look so damn pretty like this—falling apart for me.”

Bakugou could only whimper in response, his body trembling as he teetered on the edge, completely at Shinsou’s mercy.

Shinsou bit his lip, his pupils blown wide as he watched Bakugou's body respond so wantonly to his touch. His fingers slid in and out of the tight heat with an almost leisurely pace, deliberately teasing. Each movement was punctuated by the wet, filthy sounds created by the vibrator and the slick mess pooling between Bakugou's thighs.

“God, Katsuki,” Shinsou murmured, his voice thick with lust, his free hand splaying over the curve of Bakugou's trembling hip to steady him. “You’re so damn responsive. Listen to you—listen to this.” He twisted his fingers slightly, brushing over Bakugou's sweet spot again, making the blonde jolt with a strangled cry.

Bakugou let out a high-pitched whine, his back arching, his body practically begging for more even as he tried to maintain some shred of composure. “Shut the hell up,” he snapped, though his voice was weak, breathless, betraying how wrecked he already was. His thighs trembled as he rocked back against Shinsou’s fingers and the vibrator, seeking out more of that delicious friction.

Shinsou smirked, leaning in close so his lips brushed against Bakugou’s ear. “Oh, but why would I, when you sound so good for me?” he teased, his breath hot against the blonde’s flushed skin. “Such a mess already, and I haven’t even given you everything yet.”

The vibrator buzzed louder as Shinsou adjusted the setting, the increase in intensity making Bakugou cry out. His hands fisted the sheets beneath him, his entire body writhing with need as Shinsou continued to pump his fingers, the pace maddeningly slow and deliberate. “T-Toshi,” Bakugou choked out, his voice breaking. “Stop fucking teasing me and—ah—do something.”

Shinsou chuckled darkly, nipping at the shell of Bakugou’s ear. “Impatient as always,” he murmured, though his own restraint was hanging by a thread. He pushed the vibrator deeper, his fingers curling just right, and relished the way Bakugou’s body shuddered violently in response. The obscene noises from below them only grew louder, filling the room with their shared need.

Bakugou groaned, his hips jerking back to take Shinsou’s fingers and the vibrator deeper, his breathing ragged. “Fucking—move,” he demanded, his voice raw and desperate. “I swear to god, Hitooooo—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shinsou interrupted, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “I hear you, Katsuki. But you’re going to take what I give you, and you’re going to love every second of it.” He punctuated his words by scissoring his fingers, stretching Bakugou further, eliciting another wrecked moan that had Shinsou’s own cock twitching in his boxers.

The wet sounds, the buzzing, and Bakugou’s desperate noises created a symphony that spurred Shinsou on. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the flushed, damp skin of Bakugou’s shoulder. “Almost ready, Babe,” he murmured, his voice softer now but still tinged with that edge of control. “Just hold on for me a little longer.”

Once Bakugou was nice and sloppy, Shinsou finally put his talented tongue to work. Dropping the vibrator, he flattened it against the stretched rim of Bakugou's hole, tasting lube and the salty musk of Bakugou's body. He circled the sensitive pucker before stiffening his tongue to a point and stabbing it inside.

Shinsou groaned against Bakugou’s skin, the vibrations sending a shiver up the blonde’s spine. His tongue worked skillfully, flicking and swirling, lapping up the mess he’d helped create. Bakugou’s thighs quivered on either side of Shinsou’s head as he moaned loudly, his hands clutching at the sheets, fingers curling into tight fists.

“F-Fuck, H-H-Toshi,” Bakugou stuttered, his voice wrecked, his body writhing as he pressed back against the warm, wet pressure of Shinsou’s tongue. His legs trembled as he tried to hold himself steady, the overstimulation making his muscles twitch uncontrollably.

Shinsou smirked, pulling back just enough to breathe. “Such a lovely dessert. So sweet. Just for me,” he murmured, his lips glistening as he nipped at the sensitive skin of Bakugou’s inner thigh before diving back in. His hands gripped Bakugou’s hips firmly, keeping him in place as his tongue plunged inside again, moving in and out with deliberate intent. He added a finger alongside, curling it to tease that sweet spot, making Bakugou cry out sharply.

Bakugou’s head dropped forward, his forehead pressing into the mattress as he gave up any pretense of control. He rocked his hips back against Shinsou’s mouth, his moans growing louder, more desperate. “Don’t stop,” he begged, his voice breaking on a sob. “Don’t fucking stop.”

"Ungh fuck!" Bakugou cried out, clenching around Shinsou's tongue and fingers. Shinsou set a punishing pace, tongue-fucking Bakugou's hole hard and fast in time with his thrusting fingers, overloading Bakugou's senses.

Bakugou could feel another orgasm building fast under the onslaught of sensation. The liquid heat rushing downward pooled low in his belly, his muscles clenching and throbbing around Shinsou’s fingers and tongue. Every nerve felt alive, electric, and overstimulated as the relentless pleasure swept through him.

“F-Fuck, I can’t—” Bakugou choked out, his voice cracking as his body tensed. He pressed his hips harder against Shinsou’s face, chasing the overwhelming pressure threatening to snap. “Hit…to..SHII!”

Shinsou growled against him, the vibrations only adding to Bakugou’s torment. He didn’t let up, plunging his fingers deeper, curling them perfectly to brush against that devastatingly sensitive spot inside. His tongue flicked and lapped at Bakugou’s rim, the wet, filthy sounds mingling with Bakugou’s desperate cries.

“That’s it, Katsuki,” Shinsou encouraged, his voice rough but steady as he briefly pulled away to speak. “Let go. Give it to me. I want to feel you come undone.”

The words sent a fresh wave of heat through Bakugou’s body, and his resolve crumbled entirely. His orgasm hit like a lightning strike, sudden and all-consuming. His back arched, his thighs shaking as he let out a strangled moan, his body convulsing under the force of his release.

Shinsou didn’t stop, coaxing every last tremor out of Bakugou with his tongue and fingers, slowing only when he felt the tension in Bakugou’s body start to ease. He kissed the inside of Bakugou’s thigh tenderly, letting him come down from his high, his breath warm against the flushed skin.

Bakugou’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his body slack and trembling. “Y-You’re such a fucking menace,” he mumbled weakly, his voice still raw and shaky.

Shinsou smirked, his gaze darkening with determination as he sat back for a moment, watching Bakugou’s beautifully spent body sprawled out on the bed. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, his cheeks flushed, and his thighs still twitching from the aftershocks of his orgasm. He looked utterly wrecked—and completely irresistible.

But Shinsou wasn’t done. After all, this was his way of making it up to Bakugou, and he wasn’t about to settle for half-measures.

He leaned forward, brushing soft kisses along Bakugou’s spine, his hands smoothing over the taut muscles of Bakugou’s thighs and hips. “Don’t think we’re done yet, Katsuki,” he murmured, his voice low and sinful, making Bakugou shiver beneath him. “You deserve more than that.”

Bakugou groaned, lifting his head slightly to glare over his shoulder, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the lingering haze of pleasure in his eyes. “The fuck are you—ah!” His words broke off into a sharp gasp as Shinsou slid his hands under Bakugou’s hips, pulling him up slightly to position him better.

“Relax,” Shinsou said, his tone soothing but firm as he grabbed the bottle of lube again, slicking up his fingers. “I’m just getting started.”

Bakugou opened his mouth to protest, but the sound died in his throat as Shinsou’s fingers were back on him, teasing his stretched rim. Shinsou pressed two fingers inside again, scissoring them slowly, deliberately, before adding a third. The stretch burned slightly, but it only made Bakugou’s pulse race as he buried his face in the sheets, trying to suppress the needy sounds threatening to escape.

“Don’t hold back on me,” Shinsou said, his voice taking on a commanding edge. “Let me hear you, Katsuki. I want to know exactly how good I’m making you feel.”

Bakugou let out a muffled curse, but the next moan that slipped from his lips was unrestrained, raw and desperate. Shinsou chuckled darkly, clearly pleased as he worked his fingers in deeper, brushing against Bakugou’s sweet spot with unerring precision.

“Good boy,” Shinsou praised, his voice a seductive purr. “I’ll make sure you don’t forget how sorry I am by the time I’m through with you.”

Bakugou whimpered, his body trembling as Shinsou leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of Bakugou’s ear. “And maybe next time, you’ll think twice before threatening to blow up my stuff,” Shinsou added with a teasing grin, punctuating his words with another firm press of his fingers.

The only response he got was a breathless moan, but that was all the encouragement Shinsou needed to continue.

Not long after, Bakugou wailed once more. The sound breaking into a series of ragged cries as his third orgasm tore through him, a tsunami of pleasure that left him shaking to his core. His body convulsed, muscles tightening in sharp, rhythmic spasms that clamped down on Shinsou's fingers and tongue, as if trying to pull them deeper. The intensity of it was almost overwhelming.

At the same moment, Bakugou's body gave in completely, his pussy spasming and gushing thick, hot spurts that splattered messily across Shinsou’s hand and the sheets below. The slick, wet sound of it only added to the sinful symphony of Bakugou’s wails and Shinsou’s dark chuckles. The mess soaked the sheets beneath them, dripping down Bakugou's trembling thighs in a display so unabashedly erotic that it left Shinsou breathless.

"Fuck, Katsuki," Shinsou murmured, though his tone was more reverent than teasing this time. His fingers didn’t still, continuing their relentless rhythm, pushing Bakugou through the aftershocks and drawing out every last ripple of pleasure. His tongue flicked one last time against the sensitive rim of Bakugou’s entrance, making him jolt and sob as the oversensitivity began to border on too much.

“Hi-Itoshi,” Bakugou whimpered, his voice raw and broken as he tried to squirm away, his thighs trembling violently. “T-too much—c-can’t—”

But Shinsou wasn’t quite ready to let go. He leaned up, his free hand stroking gently along Bakugou’s back, soothing him even as he continued to toy with him. “Just a little more, babe,” he coaxed, his voice soft but insistent. “You’re doing so well for me. Let me take care of you.”

Bakugou’s breath hitched, his body torn between surrendering to the onslaught of sensation and the desperate need for reprieve. He felt completely undone, laid bare in a way that left him trembling and vulnerable—and yet he trusted Shinsou to guide him through it.

When Shinsou finally pulled his fingers free, Bakugou let out a broken, shuddering sigh of relief, collapsing fully onto the damp sheets beneath him. He was a mess of sweat, cum, and trembling exhaustion, and he didn’t have the strength to care. Shinsou smirked softly as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to the small of Bakugou’s back.

“Still mad at me?” he asked, his tone light but affectionate as he brushed damp strands of hair from Bakugou’s face.

Bakugou huffed weakly, too spent to summon his usual fiery retort. “Shut up,” he muttered, but the softness in his voice betrayed him.

Shinsou chuckled, sliding onto the bed beside him and pulling Bakugou into his arms, careful not to jostle his oversensitive body too much. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Bakugou’s temple.

Bakugou lay sprawled on the damp, ruined sheets, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His body was completely spent, trembling in the aftermath of Shinsou's relentless attention. But despite the exhaustion and oversensitivity, there was a flicker of frustration in his crimson eyes as he tilted his head to glare weakly at Shinsou.

“You done yet?” Bakugou rasped, his voice hoarse but still carrying that fiery edge.

Shinsou arched a brow, smirking lazily as he leaned back against the headboard, his hand absently brushing over Bakugou’s sweat-dampened hair. “Thought I just proved how much I wanted to make it up to you,” he teased. “What, still not satisfied?”

Bakugou growled softly, the sound more of a pout than a threat. “Don’t play dumb, you bastard. You didn’t—” He trailed off, his cheeks flushing despite everything. “You didn’t give me what I wanted.”

Shinsou blinked, feigning confusion even as a sly grin tugged at his lips. “Oh? And what’s that, Katsuki?” he asked, his tone deliberately slow and provocative. He leaned in closer, his voice dipping into that deep, rumbling drawl that always made Bakugou’s toes curl. “You gotta be specific if you want me to fix it.”

Bakugou clenched his jaw, his face going a deeper shade of red. “You didn’t fuck me, dumbass,” he hissed, his words almost a growl. “You’ve been teasing me for hours, and you didn’t even—”

Shinsou laughed softly, cutting him off. “Ah, I see now,” he said, cupping Bakugou’s flushed face gently. “You’re mad I didn’t finish you off the way you wanted. My bad, babe. But…” His eyes gleamed as he shifted closer, his other hand trailing down Bakugou’s side. “You sure you can handle that right now? You’re shaking like a leaf.”

Bakugou narrowed his eyes, the fire in them rekindling despite his obvious exhaustion. “I can handle whatever you’ve got,” he snapped, his voice still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure. “Now quit stalling and—”

Before Bakugou could finish, Shinsou leaned down to capture his lips in a searing kiss, effectively silencing him. His hand slid lower, gripping Bakugou’s thigh and pulling him closer as he murmured against his lips, “Guess I’d better make it count, then.”

Shinsou wasted no time, his usual teasing nature giving way to something more focused, filled with more intent. Shinsou squeezed Bakugou’s flushed cheeks gently, his touch surprisingly tender despite the fire in his violet eyes. His fingers traced slow, teasing circles around Bakugou’s stretched, fluttering hole, making the smaller man shudder and let out a soft, needy whine. 

“Still so sensitive,” Shinsou murmured, almost to himself, his voice dripping with affection and mischief. He leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to Bakugou’s parted lips, his other hand cradling his jaw to keep him steady. The contrast between Shinsou’s sweet gestures and the filthy teasing of his fingers made Bakugou’s breath hitch, his body instinctively arching toward more contact.

Before Bakugou could demand—or whine—Shinsou slid off the bed smoothly, standing at the edge to rid himself of the last barrier between them. His boxers hit the floor with an unceremonious drop, revealing the full extent of his arousal. Bakugou’s eyes flicked down, his tongue darting out to wet his lips involuntarily as his gaze took in the sight. 

“Like what you see?” Shinsou asked with a smirk, stroking himself once in deliberate slow motion. He climbed back onto the bed, hovering over Bakugou, who was still catching his breath but glaring up with all the intensity of someone ready for more. 

“Just shut up and put it in,” Bakugou snapped, his voice hoarse but steady, the edge of desperation making it all the more enticing.

“Patience, Babe,” Shinsou teased, positioning himself between Bakugou’s spread thighs. “I told you I’d make this worth your while.” He leaned down, kissing along Bakugou’s jaw and down to his collarbone as he lined himself up, the head of his cock pressing lightly against Bakugou’s still-quivering entrance.

“Yeah? Then prove it,” Bakugou shot back, his breath hitching as Shinsou began to crawl over. Now chest to chest.

As Bakugou lay on the bed, his heart still racing from the intense pleasure he just experienced, as he felt Shinsou move closer to him. With gentle hands, Shinsou began to trace delicate patterns on Bakugou's chest, causing goosebumps to form along his skin. His breath was warm against Bakugou's neck as he whispered softly into his ear. "You are so beautiful," he breathed out before pressing a tender kiss against Bakugou's neck.

Their bodies were still flush against each other, their sweat-slick skin sticking together. Shinsou continued to trail kisses along Bakugou's neck and shoulder, slowly making his way downwards towards the smooth expanse of his chest. Each kiss felt like a tiny spark of electricity, igniting a fire within Bakugou.

Finally, Shinsou reached Bakugou's nipples, and he gave them a soft tug with his lips before taking one into his mouth. He suckled gently at first, causing Bakugou to arch off the bed in response. As he continued to lavish attention on Bakugou's sensitive nipple, he reached down between their bodies with one hand. With a smile, his free hand reached down between Bakugou’s legs, teasing his sensitive clit with his fingers.

Bakugou moaned loudly, throwing his head back as the dual sensations of Shinsou's mouth on his nipple and his hand on his clit were too much for him to handle. "Hitoshi," he panted out between gasps for air, "I'm close."

Shinsou pulled away from Bakugou's nipple and quickly positioned himself behind him. In one swift movement, he pressed his hard cock against Bakugou's wet and loose entrance, pushing slowly inside until he was fully seated within him. Bakugou cried out at the sudden invasion of pleasure, his body arching off the bed as Shinsou began to thrust deep inside him.

Their hips slapped together in a rhythmic dance of lust, their moans and groans echoing off the walls. As Shinsou picked up speed, so did Bakugou's heart rate, his entire body tingling with anticipation of his upcoming orgasm. Just when he thought he couldn't take anymore, Shinsou reached around and began stroking his cock in time with his thrusts.

Bakugou screamed out in ecstasy as he felt himself being pushed closer and closer to the brink. Shinsou knew just how to work him, teasing his best places and rubbing his clit until Bakugou felt like he was going to explode. And then, without warning, Shinsou pulled out and pressed a vibrator against Bakugou's clit.

The intense waves of pleasure crashed over him like a tidal wave as he came hard against Shinsou's chest. Shinsou followed suit soon after, crying out as he emptied himself inside Bakugou. Shinsou's body shook with pleasure as he held himself deep inside Bakugou, their hearts beating in perfect rhythm. Bakugou felt the warmth of Shinsou’s spend filling him, causing him to sigh contentedly. After a few moments, Shinsou pulled out and collapsed next to Bakugou, breathing heavily. Bakugou wrapped his arms around Shinsou, content and fulfilled.

Bakugou let out a soft huff as he shifted closer, wrapping his arms around Shinsou's torso, tighter. Contentment radiated from him, his body pliant and fulfilled as he nuzzled into Shinsou’s chest. For a rare moment, everything felt perfect—quiet, warm, and complete. 

But, of course, Shinsou couldn’t leave well enough alone. 

“Heh, make-up sex really does work, huh, Kats?” he mused, his tone teasing. He paused for dramatic effect, then smirked. “Or maybe it was that magic vibe of yours. Real MVP, don’t you think?” 

Bakugou stiffened, his face heating instantly. “Oi!” he sputtered, his voice cracking just slightly. He pulled back just enough to glare at Shinsou, though his energy was clearly spent. “Let me afterglow in peace, damn it!” 

Shinsou only chuckled, ruffling Bakugou’s sweat-damp hair affectionately. “Sure, sure,” he said, but the glint in his eyes promised that he wouldn’t be dropping it anytime soon.