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The Hands-on Approach to Roommate Management

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There were a lot of things that Bakugou had an unreasonable amount of hate for, like dumbass purse snatchers, or jerks who didn't stand aside to let people get off the train first, or when network television edited out parts of classic All Might movies for re-broadcast. But none of that compared to how much he hated midterm week. It never failed that every semester his midterms fell on a week his hero agency was particularly busy; this time Bakugou had spent his entire off-day writing his essay exam so he could turn it in early, only to have his Heroics Law professor send it back marked up with a bunch of pedantic corrections.

So here he was, hunched over his laptop at the low table in their living room instead of going to bed early, shoulders sore from afternoon workout, squinting tiredly at his screen despite his reading glasses.

"Fuckin' grad school," Bakugou was grumbling to himself as he edited footnotes. "Fuckin' case studies fuckin' midterms fuckin' footnotes." He growled crankily when his phone buzzed with an incoming call, but eased up when he saw Kirishima's name on the display. Thumbing the slider to answer, he tapped 'speaker' and left it flat on the table so he could keep typing. "Yo."

"Hey, babe!" Kirishima greeted. Bakugou rolled his eyes a little at how Kirishima could still sound cheerful even after a ten-hour shift. "How's the midterm going?"

"How do you think?" Bakugou scowled at his laptop as his footnote dropped to the next page for no goddamn reason. "You off shift yet?"

"No," Kirishima said sheepishly. "That's why I'm calling. Denki got winged right as we were coming off patrol, so I'll be here late typing up both our reports. Don't wait up, ok?"

"Tcht," Bakugou clicked his tongue. "Why anybody trusts you two idiots to patrol together, I'll never know." He heaved a sigh, pulling his glasses off to rub the heel of his hand over his eye, where he could already feel a tension headache gathering. "What about you?"

"Me? I'm fine! You know I'm way too strong for street villains to put a scratch on me," Kirishima boasted. Bakugou hummed dubiously. "Anyway, I better get started or I really will be here all night. Don't forget to take breaks, ok? Look away from your screen for twenty seconds every twenty minutes."

"Fuck off," Bakugou told him, sliding his glasses back on. "Love you."

"Bye. Love you too," Kirishima answered, followed by some muffled hooting and laughter from his end of the call. "Aw, fuck off, you guys, eavesdropping is super unmanly—" The call cut off, leaving Bakugou shaking his head with a soft snort.

As much as Bakugou wanted Kirishima home safely, it was a relief to have the rest of the night to himself so he could concentrate on his work. With any luck he could get his corrections done in one sitting, and then he'd be free of fucking exams until finals rolled around.

Focused on his work, Bakugou had completely lost track of time by the time he heard the apartment door open. He heard low, aggravated swearing instead of Kirishima's usual call of "I'm home!" as Kirishima discovered the lights still on; Bakugou cringed when he glanced at the time in the top corner of his laptop.

"Katsuki," Kirishima scolded as he came in from the entryway, padding across the room to loom over Bakugou, arms folded. "Don't you have morning patrol tomorrow?"

Bakugou grunted, refusing to look up from his laptop. Kirishima nudged Bakugou's hip with his foot, and when that didn't get him to look up, reached down to push the lid of Bakugou's laptop shut.

"Hey!" Bakugou snapped.

"Enough," Kirishima ordered. He slid his hands under Bakugou's armpits and lifted him up to his feet, as if he weighed no more than a cat. Ignoring Bakugou's fierce scowl, Kirishima pulled him into a hug, squishing him tight until Bakugou relaxed into it with his cheek pressed comfortably into Kirishima's shoulder. Kirishima rubbed Bakugou's spine up and down in a slow, warm line, then slid one hand up to the back of Bakugou's neck. He pressed down into the tendons there with his fingertips, and Bakugou couldn't swallow all of his pained noise. "Thought so. You wanna wake up with a migraine tomorrow? Wanna throw up in the bushes on patrol again?"

"Don't ask dumb shit," Bakugou said through gritted teeth, Kirishima still trying to loosen up some of the tension in his neck. He squirmed to get loose, but Kirishima only let him pull far enough back to catch Bakugou's chin in his hand, forcing him to look Kirishima in the eye.

"How are you so smart, but such a dumbass about taking care of yourself?" Kirishima sighed.

"What do you think I keep you around for?" Bakugou asked.

"My rockin' bod," Kirishima answered, making Bakugou groan. He bonked his forehead gently into Bakugou's. "Bed, come on."

"Cute, but no. I have to finish this." Bakugou tried to turn, but Kirishima's grip was firm, inescapable. "Let go, I'm serious."

"So am I," Kirishima said, walking Bakugou backwards a step, and then another. "And we're going to bed."

"I fucking can't, gravel brain, I have to…quit it, Eijirou, I'm not fucking around, let—" Bakugou's elbow drove into Kirishima's ribs as he struggled, both of them freezing when Kirishima grunted in pain. Bakugou narrowed his eyes. "What was that?"

"Nothing," Kirishima said quickly. He tried to slap Bakugou's hand down when Bakugou reached for the hem of his shirt, but Bakugou was too quick, the angle too awkward for Kirishima to stop him. An ugly contusion the size of Bakugou's palm spanned Kirishima's lower ribs, dark purple on the inside with an ugly ring of green around the outer edge that meant someone with a healing quirk had already taken a crack it. "It's basically nothing."

"Basically?" Bakugou snapped. He pressed fingers in against the bruise, making Kirishima's breath catch. "You said you were fine!"

"Yeah, and you said you were going to bed," Kirishima snapped back, catching Bakugou's wrist to yank his hand back. Bakugou glared, teeth clenched tight. "Wanna fight about it? I'll go right now, you know I will."

Bakugou struggled with his temper for a heartbeat or two before he could shove it back down, letting out his breath in a huff. "No. You'd just get hot over it."

"Like you wouldn't." Kirishima leaned in to steal a kiss that was all rough demand, venting his frustration into it.

Bakugou fisted his free hand in Kirishima's still-rucked-up shirt, his own hackles still up, and gave as good as he got, nipping at Kirishima's lip and tongue. While Bakugou was distracted, Kirishima wrapped arms tight around Bakugou's waist and hefted him up, too high off the ground for Bakguou's feet to touch. He grinned up at Bakugou's scowl.

"Gotcha," Kirishima said, cheerful tone not quite matching the dark glint in his eye. He hitched Bakugou up a little more, so that Bakugou ended up in an indignant sprawl over his shoulder, and marched into their bedroom like that. Bakugou cursed and squirmed, but it only got him a swat on the ass.

Kirishima dropped Bakugou onto their bed with enough force that Bakugou bounced a little. Bakugou got his elbows under him, but before he could do anything else, Kirishima was already crawling onto the bed and over top of him, throwing a knee down on either side of Bakugou's thighs so that he couldn't go anywhere without a pretty big struggle.

"Gonna try it?" Kirishima asked, bracing his palms on either side of Bakguou's shoulders. He grinned, showing his teeth. "Go on, try."

Bakugou thought about it, brain listing at least three ways he could throw Kirishima off or use his weight against him, but his whole body had gone heavy the instant his back hit the mattress. Not worth it, he decided.

"Fuck you," Bakugou told Kirishima, going limp against the mattress. He expected Kirishima to flop down on top of him, but Kirishima stayed where he was, dragging his eyes down Bakugou's body slowly, then back up again. Bakugou didn't get why sometimes Kirishima got so hot over him in his dork glasses and ratty sweats, but the attention felt good. Bakugou smirked lazily. "Want something?"

Kirishima didn't answer right away, eyes still working their way honey-slow up Bakugou's body. When his gaze met Bakugou's, he finally said, "Your mouth on my dick." His eyes softened, questioning. "If you're up for it?"

"Seems like you're the one who's up for it," Bakugou teased, lifting a knee to nudge gently at the start of Kirishima's erection through his jeans. "Yeah, I'm in. Probably help me fall asleep faster. I'm not moving, though."

"I can work with that," Kirishima promised. He lowered himself for a kiss as if doing a half speed push-up and holding himself there was no big deal, muscles not even trembling; the casual show of strength turned Bakugou on more than he would ever admit out loud, warmth spreading out from his chest out to his fingers and toes, simmering under his skin.

He licked along Kirishima's bottom lip, encouraging Kirishima to kiss him more deeply, but Kirishima only huffed a soft laugh against his mouth before sitting up.

"Hold that thought," Kirishima told him as he crawled back off the bed, one hand already at the hem of his shirt to yank it casually off, over his head. He tossed it aside and reached for his belt next; he slid it free from its loops more slowly than he'd stripped his shirt off, entirely for the benefit of Bakugou watching. He unzipped his jeans and pushed them down just as slowly, thumbs hooked in his boxers to drag them down as well.

Bakugou never took his eyes off Kirishima's hands as he slid himself up their bed to lean back on their pillows, sitting against the headboard. He loved Kirishima's hands, their size, their familiar calluses, the faint scars across his knuckles; the way Kirishima's quirk reformed his skin kept him from scarring easily, so Bakugou had all the scars that lasted memorized, the way they felt under his fingers or mouth. He wanted those hands on him already.

Kirishima smirked at him as his jeans hit the floor and he kicked them to the side. "You really must be into it if you aren't yelling at me for dropping clothes all over instead of putting them in the hamper."

"Do you wanna get off on me yelling at you about laundry?" Bakugou raised an eyebrow. "Or do you want to get up here for that blowjob?"

"Tough choice," Kirishima teased back, putting a knee back on the bed. He shifted up so that he was kneeling beside Bakugou and braced one hand on the headboard for balance. His other hand went to Bakugou's cheek, tilting his face up and swiping his thumb across Bakugou's lower lip. "Truth be told, pretty much anything you do with your mouth gets me going."

Bakugou took the pad of Kirishima's thumb between his teeth just for a second, flicking his tongue against it, then released it. "Not your best kept secret." To emphasize his point, Bakugou reached up to wrap his hand around Kirishima's dick, already mostly hard.

"Loud and proud, that's me," Kirishima said with a heated grin. He slid his hand back, thumb grazing along Bakugou's cheekbone, working his fingers into Bakugou's hair. Bakugou's eyes fluttered half-shut at the roughness of Kirishima's fingertips down against his scalp, scratching gently. "Gay Riot, Rock Hard Hero, at your service."

"Oh my god, shut up," Bakugou groaned, trying to choke down a laugh. "I'm trying to service you, if you'd shut up for two seconds."

"Ready when you are," Kirishima said easily, as if they were going to spar instead of fuck. Bakugou glanced up at him and his breath caught in his throat at how Kirishima was looking down at him, cheeks flushed pink, eyes gone cinnamon with heat and affection. "You're really hot in those glasses, by the way. Gonna leave 'em on?"

"Maybe." Bakugou gave a slow blink like he was thinking about it hard. "What do I get if I do?"

"Anything," Kirishima murmured. His fingers switched to drawing warm circles on Bakguou's scalp, sending a wave of goosebumps down Bakugou's arms. "Give you anything you want, you know that."

Satisfied with that, Bakugou dropped his gaze to where his hand was holding Kirishima's dick up. On his knees, Kirishima was at more or less the perfect height for this, close enough that Bakugou could lick at the tip of his dick without moving. He wasn't going to move, like he'd said, so he stroked Kirishima slowly and went on licking Kirishima's head until Kirishima shuffled close enough for Bakugou to wrap lips around it.

Aside from Kirishima's hands, his dick was a close second on Bakugou's list of favorite parts of his boyfriend's body. Kirishima was quick to get hard, satisfyingly thick in the circle of Bakugou's fist and heavy on Bakugou's tongue. He was roughly the same size as Bakugou; the difference was that while Bakugou hard was all hot velvet, when Kirishima was really into it the skin of his dick became textured, just this side of rough without being unpleasant; it was as though when Kirishima got really excited his quirk teetered just on the brink of activating. Kirishima had been self-conscious about it early on, but Bakugou had dissolved that shyness by being endlessly, unashamedly fascinated by the texture of it under his hands and mouth. He'd probably blown Kirishima a thousand times by now, but dragging his tongue up the underside of Kirishima's dick still sent a shudder down his own spine, still made his pulse thud quicker in his wrist just under where he was squeezing Kirishima tight.

"Uh-huh," Kirishima said in approval as Bakugou flattened his tongue against the tip of Kirishima's cock. Kirishima adjusted his grip in Bakugou's hair, so that he was palming the back of Bakugou's skull like a basketball. "I'm doing the work, yeah? You ready?"

"Mmhmm," Bakugou agreed, rubbing his thumb up and down the side of Kirishima's shaft. He slid his free hand up the back of Kirishima's thigh, mapping Kirishima's corded muscles as he pressed fingers in to urge Kirishima closer. He let his head go heavy against Kirishima's hand, relaxing the tension that always thrummed in the tendons of his neck.

Giving up control to Kirishima was as easy as breathing, these days. The flex of Kirishima's hips forward was shallow at first, giving Bakugou plenty of time to adjust, Kirishima's hand on the back of Bakguou's skull pushing him forward in counterpoint. Trusting Kirishima to take care of him, Bakugou's eyes fluttered almost shut as he concentrated on keeping his jaw loose and breathing through his nose.

Gradually Kirishima's depth increased on each thrust, although not his speed. Bakugou was practiced enough to take Kirishima almost to the back of his throat, relaxed enough to enjoy the dizzying second when his mouth was too full of Kirishima to breathe, his fist around Kirishima's base the only thing keeping him from bottoming out.

"You look amazing," Kirishima said, voice low and fervent, filling up the spaces between one thrust and the next with praise. "You're amazing. Hey, look at me."

Bakugou obeyed lazily, eyes taking a second to focus on Kirishima above him. Kirishima was flushed down to his shoulders, hair falling in his face, grinning down at Bakugou like he was on the only thing on the earth.

"So good. Wish you could see yourself. You ok?" Kirishima asked. Bakugou gave one slow blink for yes. "Damn, you're perfect."

Not hardly, Bakugou thought to himself, but hearing Kirishima say it sent liquid warmth rolling through him. Giving Kirishima's dick one more squeeze around the base, Bakugou let his hand drop. With that last stopgap gone, Kirishima's next thrust bumped the back of Bakugou's throat, sending Bakugou's brain half to static even as it made his eyes water at the corners. Kirishima whined breathlessly, thigh trembling under Bakugou's hand that wasn't fisted in the sheets.

"Almost," he warned, grip tightening in Bakugou's hair. Bakugou felt like he was being wound up just as tightly as Kirishima, tension gathering low in his stomach and making his own dick twitch. Bakugou loved this part, the air thick between them, all damp skin and shaking muscles and the wet sound of his mouth on Kirishima's skin over the rasp of Kirishima's breath, like all the best parts of a fight but compressed into a space only big enough for the two of them wrapped tight around each other. The snap of that tension as Kirishima came had Bakugou moaning along with him, shuddering and pressing deeper into Kirishima's possessive grip as he took Kirishima in as deeply as he could, swallowing reflexively around him.

"Oof," Kirishima groaned, collapsing back onto his butt when his knees wouldn't hold him, pulling himself out of Bakugou's mouth messily in the process. Bakugou opened his mouth to complain, but Kirishima was already flopping forward to pull him into a breathless kiss, muttering Bakugou's name in between uncoordinated presses of their mouths.

Bakugou was still thrumming with energy, lips oversensitive under Kirishima's, scalp prickling from Kirishima sliding his other hand into Bakugou's hair and cradling his whole skull at once. He squirmed, even though he wasn't trying to get away, squirmed harder when Kirishima rolled half on top of him so that one of his knees was between Bakugu's thighs. Feeling like he was about to go out of his mind, Bakugou got both of his hands in the back of Kirishima's hair, wound his fingers tight, and yanked Kirishima's head back hard enough to make Kirishima hiss.

"Do something," Bakugou ordered through gritted teeth.

"Yeah," Kirishima breathed, surging forward to kiss Bakugou's forehead despite how it must be yanking his hair hard enough to hurt. "Tell me what."

"Just touch me," Bakugou said, rutting up against Kirishima's bare thigh, too far gone for anything complicated. He growled when Kirishima paused, pulling back enough to look down at Bakugou's face.

"You sure?" he asked, head tilting. "Said you can have anything and that's all you want?"

"I'm not using my anything favor on this simple shit, dumbass," Bakugou informed him. "I want you to make dinner the rest of the week so I can finish my midterm."

"Katsuki!" Kirishima burst out laughing. "Yeah, ok, yes. So no more late nights this week, is what you're really saying. Guess I can do that, for you."

"Fuckin' better do it." Bakugou kicked his heel against the back of Kirishima's leg. "Now hurry up."

"Better take these off first," Kirishima said, sliding Bakugou's glasses gently off his face and reaching over him to put them on the bedside table. He reached for the hem of Bakugou's T-shirt as well, pulling it over Bakugou's head and tossing it off the bed. "Really sure?" he asked again, drawing fingertips lightly over the skin between Bakugou's navel and the waistband of his sweats.

"Yeah." Bakugou wrapped arms around Kirishima's neck and tugged him close enough to go back to kissing, wrinkling his nose when Kirishima kissed the tip of it instead of his mouth just to tease. He groaned softly when Kirishima's hand slid into his underwear, finally closing tight around his cock. Kirishima's hand felt so big like this, rough and hot and perfect. "Quit being a jerk and just kiss me."

Kirishima's chuckle was sweet against Bakugou's mouth, but Bakugou was way past sweet, crushing their mouths together and running his tongue along the back of Kirishima's teeth with no regard for their sharpness. Kirishima probably meant to tease Bakugou, his fist stroking Bakugou's dick slowly up to the very tip before sliding back down, but Bakugou was past that too, so on edge that he was only going to last a minute no matter what Kirishima did. Curling his leg tight around the back of Kirishima's thigh, Bakugou thrust up for himself, arching up against Kirishima's chest. Kirishima made a noise of surprise when Bakugou spilled over his hand without any warning.

"And people say you're difficult," Kirishima said smugly as Bakugou flopped back against the pillows, panting. Bakugou glared at him, twitching when Kirishima smudged the come on his palm across Bakugou's abs.

"Fuck you," Bakugou grunted lazily. When Kirishima made a kissy face at him, Bakugou narrowed his eyes and poked fingers right into the ugly bruise across Kirishima's ribs.

"OW!" Kirishima bellowed. "Fine, you're a jerk, ok? Damn."

"…Sorry." A trickle of conscience sneaking in, Bakugou palmed the bruise gently, feeling the heat of Kirishima's skin. "Should ice it. And stop getting fucked up."

Kirishima rolled his eyes, unimpressed as he reached across Bakugou to grab some tissues. "Sure, yeah, definitely just wasn't trying hard enough, totally reasonable. It's a bruise, Katsuki, it fucking happens."

"Yeah." Bakugou shut his eyes rather than look at Kirishima's furrowed eyebrows, feeling the gentle pressure of Kirishima wiping his stomach clean enough. "If it weren't for the fucking midterm, I'd have been out on patrol with you."

"Is that what's bugging you?" Kirishima asked. Bakugou pursed his lips but kept his eyes shut; they popped open on their own when Kirishima poked a finger firmly into his forehead. "Katsuki…"

"What kind of fucking moron goes to grad school on top of full-time sidekicking, right?" Bakugou said. "What absolute dumbass takes two exhausting things and jams them together and then wonders why he sucks at both of them?"

"You," Kirishima chuckled, pitching the tissue towards their little bedroom trashcan and missing by a meter. Bakuogu wrinkled his nose. "I kind of love it, though, how you're so smart and strong and then utterly shocked when you remember you have actual limits like a normal human being." He curled up on his side next to Bakugou, pulling at Bakugou's shoulders so that they were face to face across the pillows, only a few centimeters between their noses. "But stop being mean to me, I'm the one making you dinner for the next week so that you don't die."

"I know. Sorry." Bakugou was starting to feel sleepy, body pleasantly heavy as Kirishima yanked the blankets over them, blinks getting slower and slower. "I kind of love you, too."


"I love you really truly and very much," Bakugou corrected, melodramatically, in the All Might voice that always made Kirishima snort with laughter. Bakugou slid over to throw an arm over Kirishima's waist, carefully avoiding the bruise, and pressed his forehead into the comfortable spot where Kirishima's neck curved into his shoulder. He let his eyes fall shut as Kirishima's hand found its way back into his hair, tugging gently through the sweat-damp explosion of it. "Shit, my phone's still in the living room."

"I'll get it in a bit," Kirishima promised. Bakugou shifted, about to get up anyway, but Kirishima's hand tightened in his hair. "And I'll plug it in and make sure your alarm's set. Just go to sleep already! Show a little faith."

"Yeah." Bakugou forced himself to relax, to let Kirishima take care of it, and him, since he was such a dumbass about it. "Yeah."

It's what he kept Kirishima around for, after all. That, plus his rocking body.