**A/N: SPOILERS for the manga, I guess.

Other than that: yay, still not dead! Real life keeps claiming me, as it does, and I got a new full-time job and all, so, there you go. Not that it matters, because nothing, oh, nothing will get in the way of me writing this fic. Stay assured.

Thanks to all of my amazing readers and reviewers :3 enjoy. **

Over the summer, Bakugou has his first non-self-induced orgasm.

It's not something he'd planned, to be honest. Recent past events had been more than enough to keep his libido entertained while he got himself off to memories of eager tongues and strong forearms. Or so he'd thought, at least until the night in late July when his idiotic self-appointed squad drag him out celebrate Pinky's and Tape's birthdays.

Alcohol tolerance, Bakugou finds out that night, is not something a bunch of sixteen-year-olds should be lying about, especially since none of them is anywhere near of drinking age yet. But stupid ass Drooly had been endlessly ranting about the unquestionable perks of having a distant cousin working at some club or another, to the point where even usually level-headed Kirshima had given in to the pestering and almost apologetically told Bakugou, whose eyebrows had arched dangerously at the mention of illegal drinking, "Well, it is supposed to be a party…"

So they wind up at this somewhat fishy late bar (Bakugou reckons a certain level of fishiness is to be expected from a place willing to serve booze to the likes of Kaminari Denki) with loud music drowning out Kirishima's attempts at idle chatter, while birthday boy and girl have one toast too many and crawl off to the dance floor on wobbly legs. For some reason Bakugou can't even begin to fathom, Grapey Creep tagged along, which keeps Kaminari from joining the dances right away in favor of a, as Mineta put it, preliminary pussy recon to supposedly increase their chances of talking some poor tipsy girl into snogging the pair of losers.

The four of them are sitting at the bar, Bakugou gingerly nursing his first and last drink of the night, when it happens.

"Wh-Whoa, check that out, man! Certified top tier!"

"Who, skanky blonde?"

"Nah, that's too cheap even for you – ginger in the low-cut top?"

Drooly's eyes follow Grapey Perv's to the center of the dance floor, not far from where Pinky and Frog Mouth are making fools of themselves with their – is that partner belly dancing? "Ooooooh, I see that now."

The alarming level of interest in Kaminari's tone seems to persuade Kirishima that it's time to be the voice of reason. A very weak, slightly slurred voice of reason. "Guys, do you seriously think it's a good idea to try and pick up some random girl in a night club?"

"What do you mean try, you total buzzkill?" Mineta shakes his messy head, outraged. "Li'l angel over there clearly wants a piece of Sexy 'n Sticky me…"

"Yeah, she just doesn't know it yet." Sparky snorts over his drink.

"What the heck is wrong with you guys? She was just looking this way!" The bite-size sex fiend squirms on his stool, pointing at something unspecified somewhere on the dance floor. "See?!"

Kaminari frowns. "She's…"

"Hate to break this to you, man," Shitty Hair says in a tone that sounds way more amused than sympathetic, "but it's not your charm she's after."

Here's when Kaminari heavily dropping one hand on his shoulder wakes Bakguou – who's been toying with his straw while silently planning to ditch these freaks soon – from his reverie. "Looks like you're up, man!"

Huh?

"Get the fuck off me, moron." Bakugou bites back, more out of habit than anything else. He all but recoils in horror when blondie hugs him, a petulant whine leaving his lips.

"C'mon Blasty, she's eating you alive! If you ain't gonna do this for yourself, at least do it for us. Live out the dream."

Granted, Bakugou pushes the clingy shit off and throws a couple expletives in the middle, for good measure. The little queasy show inevitably piqued his interest though, and he casts a quick look to the girl in question – who is, true to Drooly's words, staring quite intently.

"It's fine if you don't feel like… pursuing that, Bakugou. You know, right?" Kirishima sounds so hesitant it would strike as uncharacteristic, if Bakugou didn't know his oddly protective friend like the back of his hand by now.

Of course it's fucking fine. And why wouldn't it be. No one tells Bakugou Katsuki what to do, least of all these sex crazed maniacs he keeps around god knows why.

But maybe, just maybe, he could give this a try. Give a girl a try.

Truth is, Bakugou's sexual experience pretty much starts and ends with ice prince Todoroki Shouto – and they haven't even, like, done anything. Nor does it look like they will anytime in the near future, since Todoroki hasn't called or texted once since school ended. And maybe, just maybe, Bakugou is peeved. He would never admit this to a living soul, but he was – had been? – sort of expecting… what was he expecting again? Todoroki is not one for social interactions. Hell, the guy doesn't even have a Facebook profile, and who the fuck can say the same these days. And yes, thank you very much, Bakugou knows he could have been the one to pick up the phone. That he hasn't, despite the obscene number of times he's found himself tapping their LINE chat open, somehow only adds to the bitterness his oversweet peach drink can't quell.

She has nice hair, he supposes. Not quite the right shade of red, but –

What the fuck. He scolds himself, face scrunched up in a foul scowl (that does nothing to deter the pretty ginger from eating him alive). Since when there's such thing as a right shade of red. And who hits on a girl for their hair anyway?

He's fairly sure he doesn't want to know the answer to that.

Then the oh-so-subtle ogle fest (featuring Grapes's repeated shrieks of no way, Bakugou, stay back you scary monster, that's my future wife you're staring at) goads the girl into action, and next thing he knows whatshername is sauntering towards them, eyes fixed on what there's no doubt now is her prey.

Dream on, sweetheart.

This close, Bakugou can see she's wearing too much make-up, probably in the effort to look older and sophisticated or some shit. But her hair is indeed nice, and so's her smile, and she actually makes Bakugou snort in approval when she pours a whole bucket of ice over the sleazy midget's head for trying to sneak a peek under her skirt.

How it goes from that to him standing in a bathroom stall with his pants to his ankles, Bakugou honestly can't recall. What he does remember is the feel of that dyed mouth wrapped tight around his cock, and the porn-like sounds filling the room Bakugou is pretty sure are only partly his own. It ends a bit too quickly for him not to be avoiding whatshername's eyes afterwards, but she looks perfectly pleased with herself and even pecks Bakugou goodnight when they get back to the others.

The worst part of it all is, predictably enough, Pikachu and Grapes not shutting up about it to Black Eyes and Tape the whole bus ride home, while Kirishima just gives him this long, funny look – as if anything (or anyone) Bakugou does is his business anyway.

He wonders what it would feel like to have Todoroki blow him in a public toilet, only to mentally kick himself right after. Who needs the stuck-up halfshit when the world is brimming with cute girls dying to get their hands – and mouths – on Bakugou.

He still checks his LINE before going to sleep, just because.

(It's exactly twenty-three minutes into the first day of Yuuei new term that Bakugou spots Todoroki am-too-good-for-you Shouto.

The bastard even dares to wave hello at him, like Bakugou didn't want his fancy head on a plate right now – which, you know what, he really doesn't, because who the fuck cares, if ice dick thinks he can tongue Bakugou stupid and then ghost him all summer, whatever, it's not like Bakugou even noticed or anything.

This logic proves to be lamentably faulty when he finds himself glaring daggers at the disgustingly pretty idiot across the room, nitro crackling on his palms when Todoroki only smiles back at him with no apparent care in the world.

Tomorrow. He'll be the bigger man tomorrow.)

Except tomorrow is yet another day of Kaminari Denki and his impossibly large mouth being alive and roaming the earth, which inevitably leads to pain and destruction for any living soul around him.

They're sitting in the mess hall discussing this new cultural festival nuisance the school came up with to "cheer up" the poor wusses from the other classes who had to "face great hardship" because of Class A "standing out to the villains' attention". Which, if you ask Bakugou, is complete and utter crap and all the weaklings can go fuck themselves – but no one asks him, so, oh well.

He's suffering through Ears and Pikachu and Ponytail and Bird Guy spewing out idiotic proposals (brainstorming, they call it) on how to go about their music performance, when Shitty Hair approaches their table, ever-present grin baring his sharp teeth.

"Yo, band! Any good ideas so far?"

"Plenty, just none we can all agree on." Earplugs gives Bakugou a pointed dirty look that rolls right off his back.

"I still think we should have embraced my idea of a classical recital."

Bakugou rolls his eyes at the chesty pineapple. "No one wants to sit through your posh ass playing the piano for two goddamn hours. This bunch of wimps just won't say so to your face."

Probably thinking she's being so subtle or shit, Ears gives Kirishima a 'see what I have to put up with?' look, which the hardening hero replies to with a sigh. "I'm sure it'll come to you. Actually, Todoroki-kun and I were thinking..."

That sparks Bakugou's interest, much to his unvoiced chagrin.

"… wait, there he is! Todoroki-kun! Over here!" Kirishima waves gracelessly in the general direction of the entrance.

Sure enough, brazen-faced halfshit strolls casually towards them, completely missing Bakugou's menacing vibes telling him exactly how unwelcome he is to join the party. "Hey." he says in that stupid low, warm voice of his, and Bakugou sort of wants to kick him in the nuts and lick him dry at the same time.

"I was just pitching our idea to join forces for the performance." Kirishima explains, one arm draped across the back of Bakugou's chair as in – oh great, now he's being watched over by his unbelievably intrusive best buddy. For a split second Bakugou considers swatting the offending limb away and shouting that he needs no one fawning over him like he's a helpless maiden, but Todoroki picks that exact moment to lock eyes, and now, yeah, well, now Bakugou feels a bit more than a little helpless.

Fuck my life.

"Whadda you mean, join forces?"

"As the staging team, part of our job is to bring out the strongest points of the performers." Todoroki clarifies, tucking a rebel strand of strawberry hair behind his ear. Bakugou hisses. "We were wondering if you had any special request in terms of staging effects, props and so on."

"Bit tough to give you guys a heads-up when we're nowhere near deciding what we're gonna play." Earbuds comments dryly.

"Don't be a sourpuss, c'mon!" Pikachu give her his trademark puppy eyes Bakugou is thrilled not to be on the receiving end of for once. "There's a billion things we could do."

"I'm fine with anything, as long as it's deep and dark."

"Do you reckon we'll be allowed to use our Quirks?"

"I should think so. It is a hero school after all!"

Bakugou sighs, his temples twitching. What a despicable waste of his precious time. "Let's just blow stuff up. Everyone loves explosions."

His worthless classmates exchange worried looks at the prospect (Todoroki only arches an eyebrow noncommittally). Acknowledgment comes in the form of Kaminari clapping his hands together, suddenly ecstatic. "I could ask my cousin to lend me a few kegs for Bakuman to blast, so, even if it's destructive and all, at least it'll be raining beer!"

"What's gotten into you over summer? One night out and you turn into an alcoholic."

Jirou's snide remark catches Kirishima off guard. "You girls know about our summer celebration?"

"Mina invited us."

"I told 'em." Drooly replies at the same time, then seals his fate by goofily elbowing Bakugou in the side. "Just, not the spicy bits."

Oh, for the motherfucking love of fuck.

"Spicy what?"

Bakugou grabs a hold of Pikachu's bony arm and squeezes it once, code for enjoy using this while it's still attached.

"Dun worry man, your secret's safe with me!" Is all the shitty reaction that gets him, Kaminari grinning unperturbed.

Luckily for him, second degree murder requires more dexterity than Bakugou can muster at the moment, his body effectively pinned to the seat by Todoroki's unwavering, curious stare.

If the half-'n-half also plans to ask something besides standing there doing his worst impression of a blind jellyfish, Bakugou will never know, Ponytail beating him to it.

"Bakugou has a secret?"

"Don't sound so intrigued, Momo. I bet little happened that night other than these dorks losing it after one beer and ending up hugging a toilet."

"FYI, the only one of us who ended up in a toilet was Lord Explosion Murder, here." Kaminari protests, too insulted by the jab at his manliness to make good on his secrecy oaths. "Though not really on his own."

Kirishima's eyes dart nervously around the table, possibly lingering on Todoroki's face just that extra second. His grip on Bakugou's chair tightens. "Denki, man, just shut up..."

"Why? It's a good thing – I mean, if it was me who hooked up with a total hottie in a club, I know I'd want to spread the word."

Then Bakugou is yanking Pikachu's arm hard, twisting it behind his back and slamming him face down on the table, which mercifully distracts the electric moron enough to end this little gag and gets the others back on track with their brainstorming bullshit.

(Deep down, Bakugou knows he could have shut the big-mouthed pest up way sooner. Some petty part of him though really needed to see if Todoroki's perfect composure would crack at the mention of his first kiss getting it on with someone else behind his back.

It didn't, per se.

But – gone before anyone could notice and easily mistaken for mere surprise – a flicker of hurt had crossed those excruciatingly pretty eyes before they returned to their usual blankness.

Bakugou can live with flickers.)

Showtime comes, and surprisingly enough it's not a total fiasco.

And even if he ends up having to tell everyone how to play their goddamn instrument, because (as Bakugou has noticed before) his classmates are a bunch of good-for-nothing extras, somehow he still, well, doesn't completely hate the experience. There's this brief moment of bliss when he ad-libs this staccato piece like a real boss and Bird Freak actually follows after him so that the whole thing doesn't suck. And even if Earbuds shoots him a look so dirty it makes Pikachu slip up, Bakugou couldn't care less, because that's the closest he's been to mindlessly, simply happy in for-fucking-ever.

He even manages to forget about the icy asshole watching the show from the gallery, although he is reminded of his existence when a whirl of frosty flakes rises above the theater and flutters prettily around Navel's disco laser. Bakugou grunts at the 'ooh's and 'aah's coming from the audience – these peasants are so easily impressed it's sad, really – and goes particularly wild on a drum break that has the crowd cheering him on and forget all about Half-'n-Half's lousy circus stunt.

Dream boy may have the flashy Quirk and the centerfold face, but Bakugou is still the star of this goddamn show.

Later he will blame it on the aftermath euphoria, that rockstar-like feeling of being absolutely fucking invincible. 'Cuz when you're cool like that, what on earth could ever go wrong, right?

He bangs on Icicle's door, blood pumping through his veins like sizzling champagne, pupils blown wide in this natural kind of high that bathes everything in disconcerting clarity.

Bakugou wants – needs, he needs…

The door cracks open ever so slowly, one teal eye appearing in the narrow space between the wooden panel and the doorframe. Todoroki's left half fills Bakugou's vision, bright like a pool of fresh blood on the snow, and the bomber's mouth goes tragically dry.

"Let's fight." He still manages to utter, fully aware of the crazed glint that must be twinkling in his eyes right now.

Todoroki's answering gaze is heavy, opaque. "I was in bed, Bakugou."

"And now you're up, so fight me." The blonde bites back, his tone made vicious by the force of such watertight logic. "You – " promised " – owe me."

"I didn't think you'd still be interested."

Bakugou can read it clear as daylight across Todoroki's hardening features – the flicker, that godawfully marvelous flicker of pain that's been there since Sparky spilled the beans in the cafeteria, now returning full force, shrouded in unvoiced contempt.

Tonight is a night for dancing though, and no one is going to take this dance away from him.

"You gonna chicken out, that's a lame ass excuse to do it."

His snide remark does the trick. Bakugou has to suppress the urge to smirk when Todoroki's competitive streak comes to the surface, mismatched eyes narrowing reflexively. "Give me a minute." Pretty boy grunts in the end, pulling back from the doorway just enough for Bakugou to catch a glimpse of the fancy classical interior. He instinctively moves to follow, drawn like a moth to the flame, but Half-'n-Half hastily slams one hand against the jamb, cutting him off. "I'll see you on the training ground."

This how it's gonna be, huh?

Partly mesmerized by Todoroki's compliance despite himself, Bakugou mumbles a gruff "Fucking move it" and stalks off, heart thumping against his ribcage.

Ground Beta. Where he last wiped the floor with that worthless, pathetic excuse for legacy All Might chose in a pitiful lapse of judgement.

Bakugou prays iceberg hottie will at least give him a run for his money.

He's pleased to notice Todoroki has changed out of his pajamas, although he's not wearing his hero costume like Bakugou would deem appropriate given the magnitude of his opponent. Thick red bangs falling to hide the scar tissue under his eye (Bakugou can't help but wonder if he's growing it for this exact purpose), Todoroki gets into his fighting stance, legs slightly bent at the knees, and rasps out uninterestedly: "Are we going to start anytime soon?"

Bakugou grins so wide he almost strains his cheeks, hot spit gathering at the corner of his mouth. "I don't see no 5th November shit surrounding you yet, shortcake. You think you can half-ass this fight like you did at the sports festival, you better think again."

He's only halfway through his threat when flames erupt from Todoroki's right side. "If you're done talking."

The grin falters.

Then Bakugou is dashing forward, explosions propelling him as he obliterates the distance between them. He's barely raised his right fist in a fake attempt to strike when a thick slab of ice breaks out from underneath his feet, rising to shield its wielder. Bakugou wastes no time bouncing back, one hand breaking the fall while the other fires a bolt of calculated power directly against the icy wall. Which doesn't outright melt like it used to in the old days, but does begin to collapse around the edges.

Before he can make out Todoroki's form through the thinning ice, a fierce tongue of fire lashes out from behind the transparent screen, running over the ground to lick at where Bakugou is crouching.

Simultaneous Quirks and decoy tactics. Someone's been training.

Nitro crackling on his palms, Bakugou leaps to his feet just in time to avoid the hems of his pants catching fire and deftly blasts a bolt through a clenched fist. His high-precision, minimum collateral move. This time it pierces right through what's left of the icy barrier, Todoroki barely sidestepping to dodge.

When their eyes meet over the smoke, Pretty Boy's are ablaze.

Bakugou feels the crotch of his pants tighten uncomfortably. "Thought you were the only one making headway?"

Todoroki doesn't even dignify that with an answer. The idiot just stands there, a circle of flames now surrounding him, high and supposedly threatening, while ice encloses his right side from hip to shoulder.

"What's that, your ultimate defense ninja trick?" Bakugou scoffs derisively, shifting subtly to hide the growing bulge in his nether regions. "Fucking come at me, junior."

There's more than an ounce of deliberate malice in the way he stresses the last word, Todoroki's eyes instantly darkening as on cue. And it's not like Bakugou has got anyone but himself to blame for Endeavor rising to the number 1 spot, but the thrill of messing with Halfie's head is a bit too much to pass up on. Not when it's so fucking hard to get a rise out of the guy without stooping below the belt.

Now, that's an interesting picture.

All lewd thoughts are gone in a flash when Todoroki makes his move, ice acting as a firebreak to carve a frozen path amid the flames. Bakugou braces himself.

The bastard rides the icy board at considerable speed. It's nowhere near enough to catch Bakugou off guard, obviously. His fist aims downward, the explosion all but annihilating the freezing ground – Todoroki jumps down, flames devouring everything from his arm to his eyes, two seconds before they're scrunched tight.

The impact leaves Bakugou with a charred t-shirt, but at least his feet are not trapped under the rubbles.

Then Todoroki coughs, and Bakugou sees red.

Forgetting all about keeping a safe distance from a potentially deadly enemy, he lunges forth, hands fisting into the front of Todoroki's shirt as he pulls the shithead into a sitting position. The scene is so reminiscent of the festival's final he wants to throw up.

"Why the fuck would you close your eyes, asshole? You wanna die?"

Todoroki breaks one leg free from the chunks of concrete, coughs shaking through his core. His body is seething, Bakugou realizes, dozens of micro cuts breaking the otherwise even surface of the skin. This sure does not look like something the crash could do.

"The hell did you – ?"

"It's just the steam. It still gets to me sometimes, when I switch too rapidly." Todoroki swats the blonde's hand off, voice hoarse, eyes glossy. "I lost focus."

Bakugou growls, fists clenching helplessly by his sides as the other boy smoothens his crumpled shirt. "Yeah, like fuck you did." He replays the scene in his head, Half-'n-Half readying himself for the blow he must have known would leave at least a minor burn on his opponent – then closing his eyes and crashing to the side, his flames merely brushing past Bakugou as the dual hero landed back first into the side façade of a nearby building.

Rage creeps up his spine and settles in the pit of his stomach, making him sick. "You will never beat me, halfshit. Wanna know why?"

Todoroki doesn't seem particularly interested in the answer, eyes never looking up as he struggles to free his other leg. Bakugou won't have that.

He rests his full weight against the other's chest, a dry 'oomph' leaving Todoroki's throat as he's shoved back into the debris. Bakugou pries the other's thighs apart and grinds down, his ridiculously throbbing hardness pressed flush against Todoroki's own groin.

"What are you – ?"

"Because you're soft."

He punctuates the words with a roll of his hips, visions going blurry with pleasure when Todoroki hisses, head thrown back to expose that gorgeous, sinful neck.

Gotta taste it.

He leans in slowly, breath coming out of his lips in quiet pants as his nose gently grazes the pale skin below Todoroki's jaw.

"Bakugou…"

His own name rings in his ears unregistered. There's a light sheen of sweat on the right side of icyhot's neck, the scent going straight to Bakugou's dick.

"… your heart is racing."

Todoroki places a hand on his hip, thumb digging into his pelvis, and Bakugou whimpers.

Then he's being pushed away forcefully, the sharp pain in his belly all the warning he gets before their positions are reversed. Ice spreads at lightning speed from the point where Todoroki touched him, encasing his body up to his shoulders before Bakugou can even make sense of the sudden change.

Todoroki's lips are drawn in a firm line as he looks down. Steely eyes contemplate the frozen coffin before them, not one hint of emotion behind glaring irises. "Who's soft now?"

With that he stands up, farther out of Bakugou's reach than the icy prison alone is responsible for.

(Later that night, as he's rutting desperately against the bed sheets, Bakugou moans out Shouto's name over and over. He hopes that maybe, if he's loud enough, Todoroki will hear him and come join.

The sound of restless pacing from the room above tells him everything he needs to know.

Bakugou can't remember the last time his climax hit so hard.)