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A Real Fucking Problem

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Bakugou Katsuki already hates having his time wasted, but having it wasted by some prettyboy pro hero who has the gall to go by a name as god-awful as Libido Lord? That’s really almost more than he can tolerate.

What does that even fucking mean? A lord should be powerful as fuck (and Bakugou still doesn't see why he can't use Lord in his own name if this fuckwad can), but Libido Lord is not remotely powerful. He's not even very built, just lean and angular and…fine, yes, he's not unattractive, but that is the one and only thing he has going for him. And yet, ever since he came on the scene, he’s been both figuratively and literally leaving boners and dropped panties in his wake, and Bakugou does not fucking get it. He doesn't even have a quirk! Being sexy is not a quirk.

And it's not that Bakugou is jealous of his supposed sexiness (or his name, goddamnit) because he's not, it's just that Libido Lord graduated from Yuuei last year and is already making such a name for himself by doing absolutely nothing as far as Bakugou can tell, that he's been invited back to speak to the third year hero classes, of which Bakugou fervently wishes he was not a member just now. He could be getting his homework done before the weekend starts, or at least blowing things up, and instead he's watching this son of a bitch just dripping charm and uselessness at the front of the classroom, and Bakugou is beyond finished with this shit.

He almost explosively propels himself out of his desk when Nezu finally thanks Libido Lord for his time and dismisses the students, but before his ass has fully left his seat, the lusty loser is pointing at him—pointing—with a shake of his head.

“Stay put, cotton-top,” he says. “I’d like a word with you.”

Bakugou is so stunned that his natural inclination to blast the fuck out of anyone who deserves it, which this bastard absolutely does, is temporarily blocked. Momo snickers as she gets up from the desk behind his. He considers singeing her ass just a little once she's standing next to him, but he also wants to know why she's snickering.

“The fuck does that even—”

“Your hair,” she says, flicking at his blond spikes that are aggressive and cool, and should never be compared to something as soft and benign as cotton. “It’s a kind of monkey. The cotton-top tamarin? The top of its head looks like…pretty much like you.”

There's more laughter from his classmates filtering out around him, and he catches a soft smirk on Todoroki’s face as the other boy gives him a quick sidelong glance. Bakugou scowls back at him, thinks about moving past singeing and just blasting his ass, but Nezu is still standing in the doorway, so he only lets his palms smolder quietly. For now.

Finally everyone is gone, and it's just him and this joke of a hero, sashaying towards him in his fucking useless costume. (What good is that billowy white shirt that doesn't even have buttons on the entire top half gonna do him in a fight? Is he going to slay villains with his glistening, hairless chest? Why the fuck is it glistening?)

“Need something?” Bakugou asks, when Libido stops just in front of his desk.

“Oh, no, not really. It just seemed as if you had something you wanted to say?”

Bakugou raises an eyebrow and leans back in his seat, shaking his head slowly and making sure his face says that he is not afraid to speak his mind, he’s just choosing to withhold his thoughts. No tight-pants sissy with a dumbass pompadour is ever going to tell him what to do.

“No? Ah…my mistake then,” Libido says, resting his palms on Bakugou's desk so Bakugou can now see right down his fucking shirt. He's a little pissed to find that this shitstain actually has a nice set of (also glistening) abs. “I just hated to think I'd disappointed one of the bright young future heroes of my alma mater.”

Bakugou is desperately tempted to point out that Libido is not even a whole two years older than him, and has no call whatsoever to be referring to him as young. But he's actually not total shit at holding his tongue anymore, and also he's…why is Libido leaning so damn close to him now? If Bakugou gets any further back in his chair he's gonna tip it over, but Libido is so close he can smell him, and—

“Maybe I can leave you something to think about, hmm?” Libido says, his already obnoxiously smooth voice dipping lower as he leans just a little closer, so it sounds like melted chocolate or fucking silk sheets or something.

And it’s his breath, that’s what Bakugou was smelling. It’s even better than chocolate, so obscenely heated and rich. Sinking right into Bakugou’s gut, twisting like a fist, and oh god, oh fucking god. Libido is hovering all the way over Bakugou’s desk now, his lips almost touching Bakugou’s jaw, and Bakugou does not think he’s sexy, and his fucking voice is not working on him, but that scent has suddenly gone all the way to his dick. If Libido Lord kissed him right now Bakugou doesn't know if he'd even try to stop him, which is fucking bullshit, and vaguely terrifying, and what the fuck is happening to him?

“You should do something about that,” Libido says, inclining his head downwards to indicate Bakugou's crotch. “It might be…harder than you think, though.”

Bakugou gapes at him. He’s hard as a fucking rock, and Libido did this to him, and now, finally, Bakugou gets it.


“Good luck, sunshine,” Libido says, finally pulling out of Bakugou’s space with the smarmiest goddamn smile Bakugou has ever seen. “You’ll need to learn to share those thoughts of yours, if you don't want to run in circles.”

“I have no fucking problem sharing my thoughts, you piece of—”

Bakugou cuts himself off once he’s flung himself to his feet, because Libido is already gone, and holy fuck this boner is really not normal. It’s heavy and aching, and he can still smell Libido’s scent, like it’s lining his skin now, heavy and sweet in his lungs.

“THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME?” he roars, causing a first year walking by to jump a foot in the air before skittering away.

Bakugou darts out the door and sprints in the opposite direction, with the most awkward fucking gait because this wood is only getting worse. He slams his door behind himself when he finally reaches his dorm room, before yanking his pants down with trembling hands. He’s almost expecting his dick to be on fire, but it’s just…his dick. Albeit more strained and flushed looking than usual. It doesn’t feel like his dick though. It feels like it’s about to explode, like it’s gonna take the rest of him with it, because that unbearable tension is spreading everywhere. Twisting itself around his spine, shooting hot through his limbs, pulsing behind his eyes.

“Oh my god,” he groans, dropping onto all fours on his bed. He lets his legs spread wide and tries rutting against his covers, but that’s rarely enough, and it sure as fuck isn't enough now. It’s not good timing for him to use his hand, though. He’s pissed, and a little scared, and if he blows his own fucking dick off because of whatever that asshole did to him, he’s gonna rip Libido Lord’s balls off. Literally. He is not fucking kidding.

He wipes his palms hard on his blanket, trying to get off the sweat that keeps building. If this were happening when he first came to Yuuei his entire room would probably be on fire by now, but he’s gotta do this, he can do this. He just needs to breathe, and not think about the heat crawling all over his skin, clouding up his thoughts. What had Libido Lord said? It would be harder than he thought? Literally harder? His cock is so stiff he thinks he could rival Kirishima’s quirk, but there was something else, too. Something about his thoughts?

Bakugou growls and wipes his hands again, pressing his face to his pillow to block everything out except what he needs to do. Do not burn your dick. Do not burn your dick. Do not fucking explode your dick Katsuki you can do this.

He wraps his hand around himself and almost whimpers at the touch. He takes it back. He’s ripping Libido Lord’s balls off even if he comes out of this unscathed. This humiliation is way too much to take without exacting revenge, even if he’s the only one witnessing it. He has to stroke himself so carefully he wants to punch himself, but it’s his only option until he’s sure he’s in control, which seems like a really fucking unattainable goal when his body is losing it and screaming at him to fuck the hell out of his own hand. His legs are shaking, his entire body drenched with sweat from the effort of not letting his quirk go, and the pressure just keeps building.

He clenches his other hand in his sheets and pumps himself a little harder, a little faster. A small part of his brain is running through what he’ll do if Libido Lord was serious, and dealing with this is so much harder than he thinks that he actually can’t deal with it. Is it just going to get worse? Will he ever come? Will he die before he gets a chance to turn Libido Lord into a nutless wonder?

He hasn’t blown his dick off yet, so he finally locks his wrist and fucks into his hand at a frenzied pace. That heady scent is still there, getting stronger now, the closer he gets to a climax that he fucking better be able to reach. He can taste it on his tongue, feel it down his throat, cloying and sticky and

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” His voice breaks, his sheets tear in his grip, and everything goes bright white as his orgasm takes hold of him, grips him so tight he almost sobs, and finally leaves him limp and shaking.

“Ha,” he says out loud. His voice is weak and breathy, but he doesn’t even care. His dick is still attached, and it doesn’t feel like a fucking fire hose filled with lava anymore. “Fuck you. I did it.”

He can’t move now, but he did fucking do it. He falls asleep face down, in his own sweat and cum, and he’s never felt more victorious.


Victory is a fickle bitch.

Saturday morning has come, Bakugou is a disgusting mess, and he’s hard again. He wasn’t even having a good dream, but he’s swollen and achy and wet, and if this is really Libido Lord’s quirk then what the actual fuck? Are the authorities aware of this? Is this sanctioned? If Bakugou takes the time to look this dickweed up is he going to read Quirk: Gives eternal boners from hell?

“What do you want?” he asks of his stupid, quirked-up erection. “We just did this.”

His erection does not give two fucks. He tries ignoring it, dragging himself into a cool shower and hoping it will just fucking stop, because even the shittiest quirk effects have to wear off at some point. Twenty minutes of standing there shivering does nothing though, and he reluctantly beats another one off, muffling his gasps with his hand as Libido Lord’s scent floods his senses again, and his pleasure peaks with the force of a fucking All Might smash.

“God damnit.”

This whole fucked up situation is even worse because, truth be told, these are really fucking spectacular orgasms. But it’s too much, and it’s too irritating to not be in control, to not know how long this is going to last. He can feel it in himself still, even though he’s currently blessedly flaccid. That heat is in his bones, the intoxicating scent light at the edges of his awareness, just waiting to spill over him again.

He towel dries his hair so roughly it hurts, and leaves him looking less cool and spikey, and more chaotically, tragically fluffy. He almost lights the towel he’s holding around his waist on fire when he turns to storm out of the bathroom and crashes right into fucking Half and Half, with his perfect, smooth hair being all perfectly smooth as always.

“Sorry!” Todoroki says, catching Bakugou’s bare shoulders in his hands to steady him. Bakugou almost chokes. His skin is weird and sensitive, and Todoroki’s touch is always a little bit more than anyone else’s anyway. A little too warm, a little too cold. “What are you…Bakugou, are you okay?”

“I’m fuckin’ fine,” Bakugou spits, stepping back unsteadily. “Stop groping me.”

Todoroki doesn’t look even the smallest bit affronted by this accusation, fuck him. He just squints a little. “Did you…you didn’t electrocute yourself did you? Your hair is

Bakugou can feel his eyes bugging out of his head, and his goddamn fucking dick starting to rise to attention again. “Of course I didn’t electrocute myself! This is my hair. It’s fine, everything’s fine, fuck.”

Todoroki is the least convinced that anyone has ever been, and Bakugou feels like his own head is about to pop off and go spinning into the stratosphere. He’s losing it, and perfect Todoroki is watching him lose it, and oh god the temptation to shove him against the wall and hump his leg is so horrifyingly strong that Bakugou bolts past him like a madman, sparks flying from his palms as he goes. He thinks he hears Todoroki calling his name, but it’s hard to tell over the sound of his own rage and mortification.

Once he’s back in his room he gets himself off again, but it doesn’t feel all that great this time because he just fucking did this. His head is pounding after, he can still smell Libido Lord so he knows this isn’t over, and there’s really only one thing he can think of to do.

iwillfuckyouup: you’d better be awake

Deku: good morning kacchan...did you need something?

iwillfuckyouup: yeah i need your nerd book, like right now

Deku: my...what now?

iwillfuckyouup: your fucking..your notebook! with all your obsessive stalker notes deku fuck, what else could i mean??

Deku: you make fun of literally everything i read kacchan, it could have been anything
Deku: and you’ll have to be more specific because I have an entire collection of “nerd books”, including the one you basically destroyed, as you may recall

iwillfuckyouup: oh my god that was so long ago would you fucking let it go?
iwillfuckyouup: how far back does each book cover? I need stuff for the past year

Deku: it would probably be easier if you just told me what you need to know?
Deku: you sound particularly high strung right now and i don’t want you accidentally lighting any more of my books on fire

iwillfuckyouup: i will light your head on fire if you keep being such a fucking shit

Deku: are you okay kacchan? Todoroki-kun just messaged me and said he’s worried about you...what’s going on?

iwillfuckyouup: SDGLHKFSDJNGKLD
iwillfuckyouup: NO

Deku: i think it was more your general instability that concerned him, which seems fairly justifiable
Deku: is this about the cotton top thing? That was really quite a cute nickname, actually.
Deku: I looked the tamarin up after class and there’s definitely something kacchan-esque about it. have you seen it?

iwillfuckyouup: .........
iwillfuckyouup: i am mentally launching you into the fucking SUN right now deku
iwillfuckyouup: just get me the fucking notebook get me the fuckingnotebook get me tthe FUCKING NOTEBOOK

Deku: kacchan, seriously what is happening right now?

iwillfuckyouup: DEKU PLEASE

Deku arrives with a stack of notebooks in what seems to be less than a minute, which should be impossible. He must have been driven to use One for All for extra speed by Bakugou’s desperation, and his very uncharacteristic use of manners.

Oh,” he says, when he’s come inside and taken in Bakugou’s fluffy hair and bloodshot eyes. “Kacchan…”

“I’m fine,” Bakugou says, reaching for the books. “Let me see these.”

“Is this…about Todoroki?”

“What?” Bakugou snaps. “No, why the fuck would it be about Todoroki? Nothing is about Todoroki.”

Deku’s eyes widen a little, but he just nods his head and sits down on Bakugou’s bed. Then he actually looks at it, is wise enough to say nothing, and edges slowly off to sit on the floor instead, watching Bakugou frantically flipping through the notebook at the top of the stack.

“If you could tell me what you’re—”

“You can go,” Bakugou says, not looking up.

Deku does not go. He just sits there quietly while Bakugou works backwards until he finally hits it. Libido Lord, followed by the expected unnecessarily detailed notes in Deku's messy writing.

Libido Lord is said to drive villains to distraction through his charm and sexual appeal. Those with direct experience report noticing a powerful and pleasant scent when Libido Lord was close to them, accompanied by a spike in arousal so strong that it overcame all their faculties. The most curious aspect of Libido Lord’s quirk is that it does not appear to have a traditional period of potency, after which it naturally wears off. Instead, it’s reported that the affected person must actively counteract the effects themselves.

Though Libido Lord has been notoriously tight lipped about how this can be achieved successfully, there have been five reports consistent with one another that suggest the state of heightened arousal can only be broken by making an emotional connection with the object of the sufferer’s affection. In short, the physical need that Libido Lord’s quirk incites must be balanced by an act of emotional confession, in order to be quelled.

Bakugou reads over this description three entire times before carefully placing the book on the floor, standing up, and then screaming at the top of his goddamn lungs while sending crackling pillars of sparks from both hands that leave two black circles on his ceiling.

Deku blinks at him. He starts to wave the smoke away, then thinks better of it and lowers his hand.

“What. The fuck. Does this mean,” Bakugou says.

Deku leans over just far enough to see what page Bakugou was on, then his eyes widen once again as understanding washes over his round face.

“He got you?” he asks. “Libido Lord? That’s why you’re so…so—”

“Deku,” Bakugou grinds out. This is humiliating as all fuck as it is, and to top it off he’s getting hard again for no fucking reason at all. He is not going to talk about what’s wrong with him, or how it happened. He just wants it to stop. “Translate.”

“Well it’s all very gray-area, Kacchan. None of that stuff about confessions is public knowledge, but it appears that if you want to stop being…” He glances over at the mess on Bakugou’s torn sheets, then back to Bakugou. He very pointedly does not look down, but his cheeks are bright red, and Bakugou’s shorts are so goddamn tented now that there’s no way he doesn’t see it. “You need to, uh…admit your feelings? I guess? To someone that you…have feelings for.”

“I have no feelings,” Bakugou says automatically. “For anyone.”

“Kacchan, I don’t think that’s entirely accur—”

“I have no fucking feelings! None! What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“But what about—”

“I HATE EVERYONE!” Bakugou bellows.

Deku uses a fluffy-slippered foot to stamp out the fire Bakugou just started on the floor. “Right. Okay. Well…I’m going to let you, um…you probably need to maybe take care of something, right? Or maybe not! Because you’re fine and you don’t have any feelings for anyone so that’ll probably just…” He gestures towards Bakugou’s pornographically obvious boner and then makes a gurgling sound. “Okay! So good luck, Kacchan.”

Bakugou says nothing. He’s lost control twice in the past two minutes, and frankly he doesn’t trust himself not to just literally explode into a million pieces of anger and confusion.

“I, uh…you could think about it? At least?” Deku waits for a response, then hurries on when Bakugou’s fingers twitch. “I mean, if you really didn’t have anything to say to anyone then I don’t think this would still be happening. So maybe you just need to spend some time thinking about who you could maybe feel something for, even if you haven’t quite…realized it yet. Maybe.”

“I don’t have feelings for you, Deku,” Bakugou says, because Deku is doing his obnoxious nervous thing, and Bakugou will blow his own head off if it’s because he thinks Bakugou is losing his shit over him.

“I’m…very aware of and grateful for that fact, Kacchan, believe me,” Deku says. Thank fucking god. “I wasn’t talking about myself. I’m just gonna…”

“There’s no one else,” Bakugou says, as Deku edges towards the door, skirting past the newly charred bit at the edge of Bakugou's throw rug.

“Sure. Okay.”

“There’s fucking no one, Deku. If there was someone I would say something because I’m not fuckin’ afraid of anything, do you hear me? YOU HEAR ME, DEKU?”

Deku could probably hear him even if they were in different solar systems, but while Bakugou’s eyes were squeezed shut in fury, the little fucker bolted out of Bakugou’s room and hightailed it out of sight.

In his absence, fucking Todoroki Shouto, with fucking even smoother and more perfect hair now fresh from the shower, has materialized in the hallway. He’s wearing stupid soft, plaid pajama bottoms (Why? The day is starting, not ending goddamnit), and an even softer gray t-shirt, and he’s looking at Bakugou with way less concern than he probably should given how legitimately fucking insane Bakugou both looks and sounds right now. It’s infuriating how unruffled this piece of shit always is. Bakugou would like to see him get struck with this damned libido quirk and somehow hang onto that inhuman composure of his.

What he’d really like to see is Todoroki getting struck with this and…not hanging onto his composure. It would serve him right to have to be as desperate and sweaty and wrecked as Bakugou has become. In fact, he’d fucking love to see—


There’s a horrifically long period of time during which Bakugou must battle against a new wave of crippling arousal, which has nothing to do with Todoroki, and probably everything to do with Bakugou being fucked up. Finally his vision clears and he manages to refocus on the boy in front of him. He’s holding Bakugou's t-shirt. The nasty, sweat-stained, cum-spattered t-shirt that Bakugou was wearing before he got in the shower.

“You, uh…you left this, in the bathroom.”

Bakugou can only assume that Todoroki has not seen the stains, although how that could be possible he has no fucking clue. He's just holding it out to Bakugou now, either completely fucking clueless and innocent, or knowing and silently mocking. Bakugou can't say which, but both possibilities piss him off, and it's intensely disappointing that Todoroki doesn't even blink when Bakugou rips the shirt out of his hand.

“You didn’t need to bring it, it’s just a shirt.”

“It is. But you wear it twice a week, at a minimum, so…it stands to reason that it’s a favorite of yours,” Todoroki says.

“Who cares if it is?” Bakugou growls, holding the offending garment so it is maybe possibly blocking his massive hard-on from view.

“Presumably…you,” Todoroki says evenly. “Which is why I brought it.”

Bakugou is starting to get a little lightheaded from the chocolate/sex/whatever-the-fuck-it-is scent that is rising to possibly the highest level he’s experienced so far, and nothing Todoroki is saying makes any sense. Why does he care if it’s Bakugou’s favorite shirt? Why the fuck does he know exactly how often he wears it? Fucking why is he fucking standing here right now when Bakugou is on the brink of a fucking mental, emotional, and sexual breakdown?

“You look really weird,” Todoroki says, and Bakugou slams the door in his face.

He drops to his knees and jerks himself off furiously right there on the floor, clutching his vile t-shirt that now not only smells like all of his own filth, but like Todoroki, too—clean and vaguely expensive. Libido Lord’s scent is still there on top of it all, and everything together is too fucking much. It’s making Bakugou feel sick, and so is the constant clenching in his stomach, and the aching between his legs, and he’s so goddamn pissed about it all that the sweat on his palm starts to ignite before he realizes what’s happening.

“Fucking fuck!” he cries, yanking his hand away and pressing it to the floor. He’s so close he’s shaking, but he’s afraid to touch himself, so he wraps the shirt around his dick before he goes at it again. Fucks into it like an animal, mindless and desperate, until he’s spilling inside it with a strangled moan.

When he manages to open his eyes, the burned patch of his rug is right in front of him, and Deku’s notebook is just beyond that. Still flipped open to the page on Libido Lord, with the useless information about feelings and confessions. He knows that what Deku said makes sense. If the information here is correct, then he wouldn’t be going through this shit if there wasn’t something that needed to be done to counteract it. But he doesn’t like anyone. He really honest to fuck doesn’t.

It’s been an uphill battle for him just sorting out what to do with feelings of friendship in his time at Yuuei. Learning to accept them, and finding a way to sometimes show them without feeling like he’s losing an essential part of himself. He’s getting better, though. He doesn’t even hate Deku anymore, but whatever his feelings for him have evolved into, it’s not anything that requires a fucking confession. And he spends a lot of time with Kirishima, without even feeling uncomfortable, but that’s just hanging out, maybe spending a weekend hiking and not really talking. There’s nothing he’s not telling Kirishima. The guy's manly as fuck, for sure, but he doesn’t get Bakugou going.

So where the fuck does that leave him? The two people he most actively doesn’t hate are no fucking help to him here. Is he just supposed to stick every acquaintance he has under a microscope and try to figure out if they can save him from the boner that won’t quit?

Kaminari is an idiot, Mineta is a piece of shit, and Tokoyami…well he’s kinda weird and chill and badass, but Bakugou doesn’t think about him when he’s feeling hot. He usually just fantasizes about someone faceless when he needs something to jerk it to. Sometimes…sometimes he thinks about a younger All Might, but that doesn’t mean anything, and sometimes Momo, but that's just because her boobs are like, right there, all the time. And they're great boobs, so more power to her. He’d flaunt ‘em, too. But he doesn’t want her, she doesn’t make him crazy. If he tried to confess something to her it would just be, “killer rack,” and she’d say, “I know,” (or maybe “you too,” because his pecs are no joke, and she’s cool like that), and that would be it.

Bakugou groans and rolls so he’s face down on the floor. His soiled t-shirt is bunched up uncomfortably beneath his hips, but he doesn’t think he can move.

Now that Libido Lord’s scent has lifted, Bakugou can smell ashes, and sweat, and still a little bit of Todoroki.

Fucking Todoroki.

Bakugou doesn't know exactly what to do with him, what category to put him in. They're not friends, really. But they're not exactly enemies anymore either. They’re competitive, still, and moderately antagonistic, but it doesn’t have quite the fire behind it that it used to, before Bakugou felt like Todoroki respected him. And before he managed to wrangle his own jealousy over Todoroki’s skill and composure into something more like respect, too.

And now, now it’s not so much jealousy that sets Bakugou’s teeth on edge when he’s around Todoroki. It’s just fucking hard to even focus on a conversation with him sometimes when his voice is always so low and even, and his hair is falling softly between his weird ass heterochromatic eyes. And when he puts a hand on Bakugou’s arm to hold him back before he charges into something blindly, or to congratulate him quietly on a training exercise well executed, it makes Bakugou sweat, and he hates that. He has enough fucking trouble staying in control all on his own. The last thing he needs is this bi-powered bastard getting under his skin with his…his…

Bakugou’s attention is drawn forcibly away from his thoughts, and down to his dick, which is twitching against that fucking t-shirt again. It’s not lost on him that Todoroki and his nightmare boner don’t, at this point, seem to be mutually exclusive, but what he doesn’t fucking get is why. He doesn’t like Todoroki, he just recognizes that he’s serious competition. And that he happens to look stupidly cute in blue plaid pajama pants. And that yeah, okay, thinking about his hair being a little messed up, and his smooth voice breaking, and that soft chin tipping up while his eyes squeeze shut in pleasure is maybe…it’s maybe not something that repulses Bakugou. Potentially something worth mulling over. With his cock in his hand.

Given that Bakugou is already painfully hard once again, there’s really no reason not to give it a fucking go. This is what Deku said to do, after all. Spend some time thinking about who he might feel something for. Even if that something is just a possible desire to bend him over whatever surface is closest and make him scream.

He crawls over to his bed and leans over the edge of it. Imagines that Todoroki is folded underneath him, pressed between his body and the mattress.

And then he stops. Because this is fucking weird, and there has never been a time when he hasn’t cut himself off if Todoroki popped into his mind uninvited. In fact, in hindsight, he can see that he has very actively not thought about Todoroki like that at all. Which is…also kind of weird. Because really, he’s objectively hot. That’s just a statement of fact. His eyes are mesmerizing, his muscles are long and lean, and when there’s a villain around he gets shit done with this fucking self-assurance, this arrogance that, okay, fucking fine…maybe it’s also a little subjective, too. Because that confidence may not appeal to everyone, but it drives Bakugou pretty fucking crazy. And maybe, maybe, there’s a chance Bakugou has been associating that feeling with something negative when it’s actually kind of…great.


Whatever, this is all just an experiment. A theory. He’ll just…think about it a little.

He closes his eyes and takes himself in hand, with his forehead pressed to the bed and his hand tight in the covers. Thumbs over the slick tip of his dick and spreads his legs a little to steady himself. Thinks about Todoroki’s hot skin against his own, and about sliding his hand up one of those thin t-shirts Todoroki wears. Tweaking his nipple, digging his fingers into his hip and pinning him against himself while he buries himself in heat that's probably fucking inhuman. He thinks about Todoroki splitting open for him, arching his back for him, and there’s a lot more he wants to think about—now that this is happening, now that in his head Todoroki is all bared skin and gasping breaths and damp hair tangled in Bakugou’s grip—but holy mother of fuck his capacity for deliberate thought is gone.

He’s flooded with Libido Lord’s scent, which is not what he fucking wants right now. It’s too potent, too sweet and heavy and suffocating. He chokes on it as he comes dry, fucking into his hand and trying so hard to clear his head, to get the dizzying effects of this quirk out of it and fill it with soft hair and clean cotton and steady hands carrying him through this.

The taste of Libido Lord’s power is still thick under his tongue when he slumps against his bed after, but Todoroki’s name is light on top of it, and Bakugou has a brief flash of intense clarity just before he blacks out. One of those moments where all the gears lock into place, and everything churns so fucking perfectly, and it all makes sense.

He didn’t have a goddamn clue what to do with the feeling of liking someone. He labeled it as annoyance, quiet outrage, a fluttering in his stomach that pissed him the hell off.

But he thinks…he’s pretty damn sure, that actually fucking everything is about Todoroki.


Bakugou spends the rest of the day unconscious against the end of his bed. He wakes up with every muscle aching, his fingers sticking together with dried cum from two orgasms ago, and a headache from the deepest pit of hell.

He also feels kind of good. Bakugou loves figuring shit out. He loves knowing exactly what’s happening and how he can take charge of it. And yeah, maybe it sucks that he didn’t have his own goddamn brain figured out for an embarrassing length of time, but now…now he can do something about it.

He’d really rather do something about it when he’s not dead on his feet and half crazed, though. He’d rather do it when Todoroki would maybe have a reason to not tell him to fuck off or get some help. If he could just knock this quirk out of his system first, he could take his time. Give Todoroki a chance to maybe forget about Bakugou’s filthy shirt, and forgive the door slamming and general ungratefulness, because Todoroki was right and Bakugou really does like that shirt a lot. It fits him perfectly. Tight enough that every line of muscle is hugged and highlighted, but with a lightness to the material, a little stretch, so he doesn’t feel restricted.

People look at him in that shirt. Todoroki looks at him in that shirt, apparently enough to document its weekly appearances, which…hopefully actually means something. Because if Bakugou can’t break Libido Lord’s influence on his own, he’s going to have to say something to Todoroki, whether or not Todoroki has anything good to say back to him.

Bakugou sighs heavily and looks down at his shorts, still tugged down past his ass. And at his dick, which is working up to tormenting him again. He doesn’t know how many more times he can handle this, but he shouldn’t have to go much longer now, if Deku’s notes are right.  

He leans over to grab the crumpled up t-shirt that has been befouled twice now, then drags himself onto his bed, grabbing his bottle of lube from underneath it before settling himself comfortably against his pillows. If he has to have the life sucked out of him once again, he’s going to enjoy it as much as he can this time. He’s going to make it fucking count, because this is it. If he can’t smash Libido’s quirk by thinking about the guy he wants to fuck, while fully recognizing that he legitimately wants to fuck him, then the next thing he’s doing is going straight to Todoroki’s room and ending this. Or starting it. Fuck, this is all a lot to process in the span of twenty-four hours.

Todoroki is already in his head before Bakugou brings the balled up shirt to his face and buries his nose in it. It’s mostly sweat and salt and a cry for help, but it’s also Todoroki, and Bakugou runs his slick palm lightly up the underside of his cock as he breathes it in. He’s still sleepy and drained, and those rough, heated fantasies that got him going before are a little more than he’s up for now. He still wants to push Todoroki to breaking, but he also kind of wants to just feel him. He wants to see him in those stupid pants again, low on his hips, snug around his thighs. He wants to touch Todoroki through them and see how long it takes to make him whine, to make him press up against Bakugou and whisper his name, to beg him for more. Or for Todoroki to take more, fuck.

Bakugou bends his knees and lets them fall open, pressing his heels into the bed. He tucks the shirt in against his shoulder so he doesn’t have to hold it, leaving both his hands free to take this over-fucking-abundance of arousal Libido Lord has saddled him with, and get everything he can out of it. Because this time he’s not thinking about castrating Libido, or how another orgasm might kill him, or even undergoing world-shifting revelations—he’s just thinking about Todoroki, while a supernatural level of hormones and need and desperate fucking want rises up in him, which is a pretty damn good combination.

He pumps himself with full, heavy thrusts, slips his other hand down to rub over his entrance, pressing a fingertip in slowly and feeling himself clench around it. His muscles are already jumping and he knows he doesn’t have long, but he doesn’t rush himself. He turns his face to press it into the t-shirt, and slips his finger in deeper, fucks himself on it with the same kind of control, the same measured, thoughtful pace that he knows Todoroki probably applies to fucking everything he does.

As his climax starts to grip him, Libido Lord's scent drowns out the t-shirt's, but Bakugou gets it between his teeth at least. Moans with the fabric pressed against his tongue, while his hips jerk and his body spasms around his finger over and over. He manages to keep a single thought in his head, both because a confession to himself should be just as good as one spoken out loud, and because he can’t think of anything else right now. Just Shouto, Shouto, Shouto, until his mind goes blank and he passes out again.


The passing out is getting real fucking old. And so are the boners, god damn. Clearly just getting himself off while knowing he's got a big fucking thing for Todoroki wasn't enough to set him free, because he can already feel his chafed dick straining, ready to start the day with a bang, before he actually manages to get his tired eyes open.

He grabs his phone from next to his bed to check the time (6:03, too fucking early), and finds a series of missed messages from Deku.

Deku: kacchan you’ve been suspiciously is it going?
Deku: has it gone away?
Deku: do you think maybe you should talk to someone? Like Recovery Girl?
Deku: i’ve tried to find out anything else i can about libido lord, but there’s really nothing
Deku: just tell me you haven’t incinerated yourself please

iwillfuckyouup: i’m fine

Deku: you said that yesterday, around the time you scorched your ceiling
Deku: and your floor

iwillfuckyouup: i’m really fine. I’m gonna fix it.

Deku: what does that mean???
Deku: kacchan do you mean you’ve realized you have feelings for someone or that you’re going to murder libido lord because i REALLY DON’T KNOW

iwillfuckyouup: holy fuck’s way too early in the morning to be so intense
iwillfuckyouup: everything’s fine i’ll talk to you later leave me alone

Deku: you didn’t answer my question!

iwillfuckyouup: do you think i’m gonna fucking confess my feelings for someone else to you before i even tell him??

Deku: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

iwillfuckyouup: god

Deku: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

iwillfuckyouup: i’m blocking you now

Deku: .・゚゚・(/ω\)・゚゚・.

iwillfuckyouup: you’re such a fucking weirdo
iwillfuckyouup: you’d better hope this works

Deku: it will!! Good luck!!!

Bakugou doesn’t need luck. He needs to wash all this sweat and cum off of himself so he’s not completely repellant, and then he needs to tell Todoroki what’s going on. He does wish he could do that while wearing his favorite t-shirt, but it needs way more help than he can give it right now, and he needs to get going. He’s already getting achy and dizzy again, and he’s not going to jerk off with this shit in his system anymore. He’s going to fix this.

He settles on grabbing a black, sleeveless undershirt and a pair of sweats, and heads to the bathroom. It’s quiet and empty this early on a Sunday morning, and it’s just as silent once he’s gotten out of the shower and pulled his clothes on. There are shadows under his eyes, a generally manic look to his entire face, and his hair is…well it’s not at its coolest, but this is gonna have to be good enough. At least he doesn’t stink, and his arms look good, and honestly after how Todoroki saw him yesterday, it probably doesn’t even matter what he looks like right now. Either Todoroki is into him, even after the shitshow that was their every interaction, or he’s not. All Bakugou needs, for the purpose of ending this fucking quirk’s control, is to tell Todoroki he’s into him.

What happens after that, well…Bakugou will deal with it. Or he’ll go blow Libido Lord up to make himself feel better. Whatever.

He reaches for his dirty clothes, planning to drop them off in his room before he goes to talk to Todoroki, but before he can grab them he catches movement out of the corner of his eyes and finds that Todoroki is right there, stepping into the bathroom with hair that is just the slightest bit mussed from sleep. Bakugou’s dick twitches, and he aggressively ignores it. He cannot ignore the fact that Todoroki isn’t wearing the plaid pants this time, though. The fact that he isn’t wearing any fucking pants, just little red boxers and a loose white t-shirt, like he purposefully color-coordinated his pajamas with his fucking hair, which is probably not actually the case but goddamn is it ever cute.

“Oh,” Todoroki says, eyes widening just the slightest bit. “You’re up early again.”

“So what?” Bakugou says sharply, because old habits die hard. “Why the fuck do you get up this early?”

“It's quiet,” Todoroki shrugs. “Usually.”

Bakugou makes some kind of caveman sound of acknowledgement, because fuck if he knows what else to do. He is not quiet. He is in Todoroki’s space. He is hard as fuck and he has to tell Todoroki why so he can not spend the rest of his life angrily jacking off to the scent of melted chocolate. He never wants to eat chocolate again.

“I’m…gonna shower,” Todoroki says, eyeing Bakugou like the fucking disaster that he is.

“Fine, no, hang on. I need…I need to talk to you.” Good fucking start, Katsuki. Indecisive and hesitant. Fucking awesome.

“Now?” Todoroki asks, his eyes skirting over the tent in Bakugou’s sweats. “You're, uh…”

Bakugou’s blood boils, which is helpful, because his ability to be pissed and not say something has really taken a hit since Libido Lord breathed in his face. And he needs to talk now. He needs to fucking do this.

“Yes I'm very fucking aware, Half and Half, thanks. Libido Lord fucked me the hell up on Friday and I can't…I can't make it stop unless I…”

Goddamnit this is harder than he thought it would be. How can he just say this, out loud, when he’s only just started putting it together in his head?

Todoroki swallows audibly in the silence that Bakugou leaves, and it would be so much more satisfying to see him a little rattled if it wasn’t at the expense of Bakugou’s pride. It would also really help if Todoroki weren’t looking at him so thoughtfully suddenly, if he weren’t taking a step closer, eyebrows drawn together in concern. Bakugou is trying really hard, but it’s been pretty fucking well established at this point that he’s not in complete control right now, and the desire to do any one of the filthy things he thought about involving Todoroki last night is rising to a fever pitch with his increased proximity.

“Unless you what?” Todoroki asks. “Do you need…help?”

No, fuck,” Bakugou sputters. “That's not—what the fuck, are you offering?”

Todoroki shrugs again, and Bakugou's brain just stops. Altogether. Todoroki seems to be similarly frozen now, which is comforting, but holy shit.

“You fucker,” Bakugou says, once his mental capacities flicker back on again. He may be fairly severely compromised in just about every way right now, but the significance of this is not fucking lost on him. You don’t just ask a question like that unless…“You like me?”

Todoroki looks away, fiddling with the towel in his hands. “I was just…what do you want, Bakugou?” he asks, turning his goddamn mismatched eyes on him again, all focused and intent and gorgeous. “You said you needed to talk to me.”

Yeah, because I've gotta admit that I fucking like you if I want to stop having a raging boner 24/7. And knowing if you want to get your hands on it? That would make this a hell of a lot easier!”

“You…” Todoroki's lips move, like he had plans to form further thoughts, but they never seem to come together. There’s just a long moment of silence, in which Bakugou plays back what he just said and considers electrocuting himself after all, and then finally Todoroki seems to come back to himself, his towel dropping to the floor. “What?” he demands.

“I like you! God dammit, Todoroki, how hard is that to follow?”

“That was impossible to follow! What did Libido Lord do to you? Why do you look like shit? And why would you confess to me by asking if I want to touch your chronic boner?”


Todoroki shakes his head slowly. To be fair…not all of that was really very clear, probably. But Bakugou got the words out, the ones that mattered. And while Todoroki has been shitty enough to point out what a clusterfuck his confession was, he hasn’t actually rejected him yet.

Instead, he's taking another step towards Bakugou. “Yeah, I did,” he says softly.

Bakugou accidentally sends sparks from his hands.

“I have no idea what’s going on.”

“A…lot of shit,” Bakugou says. Todoroki is right fucking in front of him now and oh god he smells good. He smells so, so good. “I can explain it better, but I—”

“You like me?”

“I’m not fuckin' saying it again.”

Todoroki smiles, and it’s beautiful, and he’s the only thing that’s filling Bakugou’s senses now. (He’s…also still hard, but he thinks that has a lot to do with how tiny Todoroki’s boxers are, and nothing to do with a shitty pro hero who doesn’t matter to Bakugou at all anymore.)

“But wasn’t telling me supposed to…fix something? You’re…”

“Yeah, no, I think it worked. I could, like, smell his fucked up quirk before and it’s gone now. I just…”

“Like me,” Todoroki supplies. He’s still smiling. It’s quiet and a little smug. Really not helping with the state of Bakugou’s dick.

“You got a praise kink or something, asshole?” Bakugou snarls, and god, when Todoroki just looks at him and shrugs once more, a little lift of broad shoulders under thin cotton, he almost comes in his fucking pants. “Fine, you shit. I like you, even though you’re a fucking pain in the ass. And your hair is stupid.”

My hair is stupid?” Todoroki says, reaching up to brush his fingers through Bakugou’s unstyled goddamn fluff.

Bakugou could keep this argument going. In fact he will later, for fucking sure. But right now Todoroki is touching him, he offered to help him get off, and there’s really no reason for them to be talking at all anymore. So he just says, “Fuck you,” grabs the back of Todoroki’s head, and pulls him in fast, relishing the sharp, sweet flare of gratification that fills him when Todoroki gasps just before their lips meet.

It only gets fucking better once they’re kissing, rough and wet and satisfyingly imperfect. When both Todoroki’s hands are on him, his fingers curling in Bakugou’s shirt, and his body pressing against him, pushing him backwards until Bakugou hits the wall between the sinks and the hand dryers, and there’s nowhere else to go. He pulls Todoroki into him tighter, slides his hands down his back and hesitates for all of two seconds before reaching down to cup his ass, squeezing it while he jams his leg between Todoroki’s. The boxers are so short that when they ride up in his grip, he finds soft, bare skin under his fingertips, and Todoroki lets out a breathy little hah.

“Someone…could come in,” he says, but his hands are slipping under Bakugou’s shirt, the left one hot on the small of his back, the right trailing frost up to Bakugou’s pec.

“I’m not in the mood for your hot and cold shit,” Bakugou growls, and Todoroki’s palms immediately lift away from him, leaving Bakugou momentarily confused, before he barks out a laugh. “Not your quirk, dumbass. I mean do you wanna do this or not?”

“Oh,” Todoroki says, his hands settling over Bakugou again. A little less forceful this time, but god can he feel them. “I just thought…you may not want people to know.”

“Know what?” Bakugou asks, resettling his grip on Todoroki so he has two damn good handfuls and can pull the other boy hard against his thigh. “That I want your ass?”

“What your hair looks like first thing in the morning,” Todoroki says, and Bakugou leans in and bites him, because goddamnit, who said he could be clever and charming while Bakugou is unraveling? “Shit,” Todoroki hisses, but he doesn’t pull away, just tips his head back so more of his neck is bared for Bakugou, the heat of his cock pressing into Bakugou’s hip.

“I don’t fucking care if anyone knows,” Bakugou tells him, scraping his teeth along the curve of his neck, sinking them in at the rise of his shoulder. There’s an answering bite of cold against his ribs from Todoroki’s hand, a flush of warmth from the fingers pressed to the back of his neck now. “Do you care, Icy Hot?”

Todoroki does not seem to give a shit, if the way he moans softly and bucks his hips against Bakugou’s leg means anything. His hand slides up into Bakugou’s hair, tugging him away from his neck so he can kiss him again, open and hungry, their tongues meeting and teeth bumping.

“You’re a messy fucking kisser,” Bakugou gasps, because he loves messy fucking kisses, and he loves the way Todoroki’s cock just brushed against the side of his own.

“I can’t help it, you’re…jarring me,” Todoroki scolds, which is just as hot as the messy kissing, but not nearly as hot as the way Todoroki shifts his hips just right so they can really grind against each other, Bakugou still moving Todoroki roughly with his grip on his ass. The little boxers have ridden up even higher now so Bakugou has a whole lot of bare skin in his hands, and it’s going to his head like Libido Lord’s quirk had. Making him dizzy and needy and burning, but it’s so much fucking better because it’s his choice, and it’s real. It’s Todoroki’s faint fabric softener and shampoo that he’s breathing in with rasping breaths, his teeth pinching Bakugou’s lip between them, his hands clenching in Bakugou’s hair and his voice breaking as he shakes in Bakugou’s arms. Hips stuttering, cock pulsing and spilling hot through his boxers. “Kat…suki.”

Fuck,” Bakugou groans, and he drops his forehead to Todoroki’s shoulder as his whole body goes so tight and hot he almost can’t stand up. But Todoroki is pressed to him, holding him against the wall, holding the back of his neck with warm, strong fingers while Bakugou undergoes a small and fucking beautiful death.

God damn, Bakugou has so much rethinking to do about feelings and relationships, because he doesn’t know how the fuck to do this, but he is fucking going to do this. Again and again.

He doesn’t know how to say any of that yet, so he just rubs his face into the crook of Todoroki’s neck and swears again. “Fuck. Shouto.”

Todoroki seems to get the point. He cards his fingers gently through the back of Bakugou’s hair, his other hand skating lightly over his shoulders as the tension eases out of them. “I like you, too,” he says.

It’s so simple and dumb and cute. Like they’re two school boys, which…okay they are, but barely. They’re gonna be out of here soon, out in the real world being real heroes, and it’s funny how much Bakugou likes the idea of maybe not doing that all alone.

“Obviously,” he says, and Todoroki huffs and shoves him away. He’s smiling again. This is a real fucking problem for Bakugou.

“I never see your hair like this,” Todoroki says, tugging at it where it falls over Bakugou’s forehead. “Without the…poof.” He makes a little exploding motion with his hand that is presumably supposed to exemplify Bakugou’s typical spikes, but mostly just looks really stupid and adorable.

“What the fuck do you want?” Bakugou says, linking his hands behind Todoroki’s back. “I haven’t done anything but jack off and try not to die for the past thirty-six hours.”

“It’s cute,” Todoroki says. Bakugou has never heard his voice like this. It’s still smooth and composed, but it’s all fond, and it’s fucking weird, and he kind of wants to hear it forever. “Soft,” he adds, touching it again.

“It’s not soft.”

“It is. Like a baby monkey.”

Bakugou sees red. (Some of it is just the flush in Todoroki’s cheeks, and the hair falling over his left eye, and the boxers bunched up against Bakugou’s hips still. He’s rapidly developing a concerning affection for the color red what the fuck.) “Get your fucking hands off me,” he says.

This isn’t what happens, because Todoroki is a shitty fucking listener. Instead of following directions, he takes Bakugou’s wrists in his hands, presses them tenderly and firmly to the wall behind them, and kisses him with smiling lips.

It’s not messy. It’s purposeful, warm, and controlled, and Bakugou might as well just rethink his entire fucking life, because apparently there are a shitton of things that he didn’t know he likes.

He breathes in Todoroki’s scent and he smiles, too, because Bakugou has always loved figuring things out. He’s really fucking ready to see what else there is to learn.