(Sin)namon Rolls

Chapter 5: I'm a Whore, You Idiot

A/N: things get a little ✨sexy✨ in this one so if you're not comfortable with that i'd probably skip this chapter ;)
•••
     Children grow up with foolish dreams. It's always, I wanna be a doctor! I wanna be a teacher! A firefighter! A police officer! A hErO! Where's the fun in that? How boring it would be to live for the sole purpose of serving others.
    Kids don't grow up wanting to be criminals. They don't want to be villains.

     I think that would change if they knew how good it felt to manipulate a witless man.
•••
     Ah, the power of sexual tension.
     "Ugh. Kacchan!"
     Bakugo turned from the sink to me with a look of utter bafflement on his face.
     "What?" he rasped.
     "It's so good, Kacchan."
     "Oh, you— the— you're..." Bakugo squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. "The food. You're talking about the food. That's what you..." He blew out a shaky exhale and turned back to the sink.
     "I didn't know you could cook," I said.
     "Yeah, well, I can. Deal with it."
     He was rattled already and I hadn't even had to lift a finger. I smiled to myself. As far as dinners went, I'd certainly had worse. Granted, it took a special kind of fuckup to make bad ramen, so it wasn't like Bakugo had done something worthy of the reaction I was pretending to have.
     He turned off the sink and walked over to sit down across from me in front of his own bowl. There was, in fact, a dining room in Bakugo's house. It had a table with ten chairs and a chandelier. For two guys in sweatpants, that seemed a bit too elegant so we ate at the kitchen counter instead.
     I nudged his leg with my foot. He glared at me.
     "Sorry," I said.
     We ate in silence for a minute or so.
     I kicked him again.
     He dropped his chopsticks mid-bite and scowled. I snickered.
     "Oops," I said, shrugging.
     "Knock it off."
     "I'm not doing anything."
     "Sure."
     "I'm not! It was an accident."
     My lips spread into a wobbly line. He rolled his eyes and returned his attention to his food.
     I waited another couple minutes before tapping him again. Three times turned out to be Bakugo's tolerance limit. He closed his eyes, braced his hands on the counter, and rammed his foot into my seat so hard that it toppled backwards. I yelped as my stool and I crashed to the floor. I managed to use my hands to catch myself, barely, before I could suffer any serious injuries. Bakugo remained seated and undisturbed. 
     "Hey!" I cried from the ground.
     "I said, knock it off."
     "I could've cracked my head open!"
     "Your skull's still in tact? Damn. I'll have to kick harder next time.
     Well, that wasn't the response I had expected. This may have been more difficult than I thought. That was fine. I liked a challenge.
•••
     The next afternoon, Bakugo walked through the front door in his hero costume. I looked away from the television to turn my attention to the foyer.
     I had to admit, the man wasn't ugly. Sure, he was ignorant and crotchety and problematic and so on, but those biceps. And that outfit... I wasn't a slut, but if he told me to get on my knees I would.
     Seduction was by no means crucial to the operation's success. However, it was crucial to making my dream of being the bisexual Casanova a reality. Furthermore, I would like to emphasize: those biceps.
     Bakugo kicked off his shoes and plodded into the living room. He shoved my feet off the couch and sat down next to me. I watched him for a moment. I put my feet up on his lap. He shot me a hard stare and pushed my legs off again. I smirked and put them back. He sighed in defeat and rested a hand atop my shins.
     Hey! Progress!
     Bakugo let his head fall back onto the couch. He stared up at the ceiling. I studied him intently.
     "Tough day at work?"
     Bakugo snorted. "Yeah," he said.
     "Mm."
     My eyes trailed over him. He looked up and frowned at me.
     "Stop that," he said.
     "Stop what?"
     "You know what you're doing."
     "I'm literally just sitting here."
     "No, you're looking at me like—" Bakugo clasped his hands together, stuck out his bottom lip, and emphatically blinked his widened eyes. He dropped his hands back down onto my knees nonetheless.
     "I am not doing that."
     I eyed him with a small smile.
     "There! You just did it again!"
     "I can't look at you?"
     "Not like that, you can't!"
     "Why not?"
     "Because."
     "Because why?"
     "Because you can't!"
     "Alright," I surrendered.
     I turned back to the TV.
     After a while, Bakugo started to absentmindedly trail his fingers up and down my legs. I smirked proudly. Fucking score.
•••
     Bakugo descended the stairs one evening in shorts and - ooh - a tank top, a towel slung over his shoulder, a water bottle in hand.
     "Staying on our grind, I see," I observed from the couch.
     "Staying on our ass, I see," he replied.
     "I don't have a choice. You won't let me leave. ...You're like an evil stepmother."
     Bakugo stopped at the bottom of the steps to lean an arm on the railing. He looked unimpressed.
     "You know why I'm keeping you here. That's your fault not mine."
     The only place he would agree to take me was the police station. For obvious reasons, I decided to stay at his house.
     I kept my eyes locked on his. He inhaled slowly and turned to head down the rest of the staircase that led to the basement. I clicked the TV off and got up to follow him. I jogged down the stairs. He glanced at me from over his shoulder.
     "I don't remember inviting you," he said.
     "I've never been in the basement."
     Bakugo muttered something under his breath. I interpreted that as his way of saying I was permitted to join him.
     Not only had I been in the basement, I'd examined every inch of it. Like the rest of the house, it was giant and fancy. It had a couple different rooms that served as testaments to Bakugo's wealth. I was only concerned with one of them at the moment: the gym. Access to it was required in order to put the idea I had into action.
     We came to the base of the stairs. Entering that space felt like walking into the lovechild of a recreational facility and a nightclub. There was a pool table, a bar, and a whole ass arcade out in the open. The gym and the indoor pool - which included a hot tub that I was desperately trying to find a justifiable reason to use - were individually separated from the rest of the area by glass walls.
     "Can I stay here instead of the living room?" I asked.
     "No. There's nowhere for you to sleep."
     "I can sleep on the pool table."
     "No."
     He looked over at me like there was something I was expected to do. I blinked at him.
     "You've been in the basement now. Bye," Bakugo said.
     "But you have so much stuff down here, Kacchan! I can't use any of it? Not even one thing?"
     "I let you use the oxygen. Be happy with that."
     "What about the gym? I can't use the gym?"
     Bakugo took a deep breath. I wasn't sure if it was a good or bad sign that he was making an effort to contain his rage. More than likely it was bad, but the only way to find out for certain was to test that theory.
     "C'mon, Kacchan. I can't even go outside. You go out and do your hero stuff and I stay here on the couch watching 'Nailed It!'. You c-"
     "Wait. You stay here watching what?"
     "'Nailed It!'."
     "Deku, I'm begging you to say sike."
     "Well, it's... it's 'Nailed It! Holiday!' to be specific," I mumbled.
     Bakugo took a few steps away from me and started pacing.
     "There are thousands of other shows, Deku! Thousands of fucking shows to choose from and you watch 'Nailed It!'? You use my Netflix login to watch 'Nailed It'!?!"
     "I don't have anything better to do! Maybe if you let me have a little freedom I wouldn't have to watch 'Nailed It!'!"
     Bakugo stopped walking and stared at me in shock. I was right about the attempt to control his anger being bad. This was a new kind of frustration. Really, it wasn't frustration at all. This was hurt.
     And it felt damn good to know I was the one responsible for the pain in his eyes.
     We stood there and stared for a moment. Bakugo looked away from me.
     "Go ahead and leave. See if I care," he said quietly.
     He turned and walked back up the stairs.
     I felt a strange kind of excitement bubbling up within me. Things were getting good. Tension was rising. The good kind of tension. The kind that made you squirm in anticipation of its resolution. The kind where the list of things two people weren't saying to each other got longer and longer until eventually everything on it spilled out at once. The kind of tension that tended to be resolved physically rather than verbally.
     I ran up the stairs.
     "Kacchan, wait!"
     I grabbed Bakugo's wrist from two steps below him. He stopped and looked down at me. His jaw was clenched. His eyes were shining.
Katsuki Bakugo on the verge of tears... fascinating.
     "You're mad at me," I murmured. "I understand that. You could go punch a hole in your expensive wall... break a couple punching bags... or you could just... punch me."
     "What? What are you saying? Why would I—?"
     "There's a mat in the gym, isn't there? Why don't we do some work on your hand-to-hand?"
     "You're not strong enough to spar with me."
     I tightened my hold on his wrist. He hissed and jerked his hand away.
     "I'm not the kid I was four years ago, Kacchan."
     "We'll see about that."
     I smiled at him. He sighed and trudged back down with me.
     We walked into the gym. Bakugo set the towel and water bottle down on the ground near the wall.
     After a discussion with Uraraka, it had been decided that keeping the earpiece on me was too dangerous. Bakugo had given me an old flip phone - he refused to tell me how he obtained it - in case of emergencies anyway, so if I really needed to contact the League, I had their phone numbers committed to memory. I'd snapped the earpiece in two and disposed of it in the garbage just before Bakugo hauled out the bag it was in for collection. Thus, I didn't need to worry about losing it while I was fighting him— well, "fighting" him.
•••
     Bakugo was on top of me. My wrists were pinned to the mat above my head. We were panting and sweaty... it was like a preview of what was to come later on.
     "You're not even trying," he said.
     He was right. I wasn't. I was trained to kill, not mildly harm.
     "Rude."
     "You lost every time, idiot."
     "I don't know what you're talking about. This is a win in my book."
     "What?"
     "Nothing. Hey, what's that?"
     I broke free of Bakugo's hold and flipped us over. I held him down the same way he'd restrained me. He put up a futile struggle. I smirked.
     "What was it you were saying about not trying?"
     "Fuck you."
     "Fuck me."
     "Huh?"
     "What?"
     "What did you just say?"
     "I didn't say anything."
     "Yes, you did."
     "Nope. I don't think so. Well, I'm gonna, uh, hit the showers."
      I released Bakugo's hands and stood up. I started to head out of the room.
     "Hey. Deku."
     I stopped. I pivoted around slowly.
     "Yes, Kacchan?"
     "Don't use all the hot water."
     "Aw. You're not gonna join me?"
     "I hope you're kidding."
     I winked and turned back to the exit.
     "No. Hey. Hold your goddamn horses. What the fuck was that?"
     "A joke. Relax."
     "Oh."
     "Don't look so disappointed. I'm still your green-haired bae, after all."
     "Don't remind me."
     I grinned at him. I saw a trace of a smile on his lips. He quickly averted his eyes and started to gather his belongings. I made my way up the stairs without him.
     That was an unfeigned mistake. I was a little stunned. This was the first real error I'd made during the week I'd stayed with Bakugo. I tried to cover for myself with the shower thing to make my prior comment seem like it could have been a joke too. I couldn't have real emotions invested in this. That was bad. That was hazardous. Attraction was fine. But I wasn't just slightly attracted to him anymore, I was starting to have some kind of schoolboy crush. The hatred that still resided in the depths of my icy heart made matters even more complicated.
     Maybe my feelings for him would go away after I fucked him senseless.
•••
     I turned off the shower. I pulled back the curtain and stepped out. I grabbed a towel off the hook on the wall. I wrapped it around my waist. I stared myself down in the mirror.
     Was I really going to do this?
     Could I really do this?
     Why was I nervous?
     I could do this. I had to. That's what I kept telling myself, I had to. I wasn't going to do it because I wanted to. I was going to do it because I had to. I had to for the mission. I had to for the League. I had to for Uraraka.
     Oh, god.
     Would she hate me for this?
     Maybe she would be proud of me.
     She was the one who proposed this strategy after all.
     She could have been testing me. There was a chance that she hadn't actually wanted me to do it at all.
     What if I messed everything up?
     What if...?
     Knock. Knock. Knock.
     I turned away from the mirror to the door.
I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.
     "Yeah?" I responded.
     Bakugo threw open the door.
     "Damn nerd."
     He framed my face in his hands and kissed me. I squeaked out a surprised sound against his mouth.
    It was rough. Different from Uraraka. So different.
     ...But so good.
     I didn't want to like it. I wanted to hate the way he tasted. I wanted to hate the way he felt. I wanted to hate it. I wanted to hate him.
     He backed me into the sink. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He bent down and lifted me up so I was sitting on the edge of the counter. He started to kiss down my jaw... my neck... my chest.
Why does it feel this good?
     Why do I want this so badly?
     I still hated him. I still loathed him.
     But I was starving for him all the same.
     I felt his hands brush over the towel around my hips. I shuddered.
     "Kacchan..." I gasped. I pulled him up by the back of his neck. His eyes seared into mine as he rose from the floor, his head cradled in my trembling hands.
Why am I shaking?
     I'm not scared.
     Oh... it's not because of fear at all.
    He turned his face into my hand and kissed my palm. He licked a line up the  inside of my wrist to the tips of my fingers. I gaped at him with wide eyes. I wasn't blinking. I didn't want to. I didn't want to look away from him for a second.
     He slammed his lips to mine. His tongue slipped into my mouth. My eyebrows knitted together. I inhaled sharply through my nose. He thrust his pelvis forward. I made a noise I was ashamed of. Bakugo pulled back. His eyes scanned my face. I was worried I'd done something wrong. Was he turned off now? Had I fucked up already?
     "Kacchan, I—"
     He put his hands on my waist and pulled me forward and off of the sink. I hooked my ankles over his lower back. We kissed again. He gripped the sides of my thighs. He fumbled around as he back-stepped out of the bathroom. He took a few more blind steps down the hall and into the bedroom. We bumped into something. He spun around and tossed me onto the bed. He reached down and ripped the towel off of me. I gawked at him.
     "Bakugo!" I hissed.
     I clapped my hand over my mouth.
     He looked down at me, frowning and breathless. I blinked at him. I hadn't the slightest idea of what to say. His expression softened. A predatory smile spread on his lips. He pulled his shirt off and bent down to put an arm on either side of my head. He moved my hand away from my face. He kissed me. It was deeper, a little slower than before.
     "Call me what you want," Bakugo whispered. "I don't give a fuck. As long as it's your voice... whatever you say... whatever. Say whatever. I don't care. Oh, baby, I don't care."
     I whimpered. My head arched back into the pillow. He sucked a mark into the skin between my shoulder and my neck. I dug my nails into his shoulder blades. I felt his fingertips trail down my stomach. I shivered. His hand wandered further downwards.
Okay. I like where this is going— WAIT.
     "Ah! What the fuck?!" I shouted.
     "What?" he husked.
     "You... that's my... I didn't know we were gonna do that tonight! Give a guy a warning, will you?!"
     Bakugo rolled his eyes.
     "Deku, I'm gonna put my dick in your ass. May I proceed?"
    I narrowed my eyes at him.
Fuck you for being gorgeous, Katsuki Bakugo. If you weren't, you'd be unbearable.
    His glare melted away into a fond smile. He tilted his head to the side and chuckled.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Oh, he's hot. He's really hot. Fuck me. Fuck this. God damn it.
    He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. It was gentle and sweet, so very unlike him.
     "We can stop if you want," he said.
     "Don't you fucking dare."
•••
MEANWHILE, AT THE LEAGUE OF VILLAINS'S HEADQUARTERS...
     "Has anyone been in contact with Deku in the last forty-eight hours?" Uraraka asked the League's members. "We need to ensure his new communication device is reliable."
     "I'll try him now," Shoto said.
     He picked his phone up off the desk and dialed Deku's number. He waited for a few moments, then shook his head.
     "Nothing," Shoto announced.
     "Maybe he's busy," Asui offered.
     "Maybe," Iida said.
     "He's probably doing something super important. You know our Deku... always so responsible," Toga said with a shudder.
     Uraraka and Shoto eyed her with disdain.
     "Of course," Uraraka said.
     "Of course," Shoto repeated.
     "He has important matters to tend to," Uraraka said.
     "Very important," Shoto said.
•••
      "Ah! Ah! Kacchan! Ah!"
     I raked my nails down his chest. I reached behind myself to grip his legs. My head fell back between my shoulder blades. I bounced faster.
     "Oh, fuck. Just like that. God, yeah, like that. Mmhm. Shit, baby. I'm close."
     "Yeah?"
     I quickened my pace. I screamed out a jumbled mess of something that could have been a word but definitely wasn't.
    "Oh, yeah! Shit! Fuckin— Deku!"
    I squeezed my eyes shut. My mouth dropped open. My hips kept rolling as an orgasm rocked through me.
     "Katsuki!" I shrieked.
     "Izuku!"
     I felt a second wave of bliss crash over me in response to the name I'd grown to detest. Or at least I thought I had.
     I blew out hard, shaky breaths while I slowed to a stop. I gazed down at Bakugo. He was gaping at me, eyes blown wide. I laughed breathily. He smiled back.
    I sat back and peeled my wet hair off of my forehead.
     "Holy shit," I breathed.
     "Damn right."
     "How are you so good at that?"
     "Takes two to tango."
     "Aw, shucks. Don't make me blush."
     I climbed off, wincing, and collapsed next to him. I wrapped my arms around him and rested my head on his chest.
    "Can I sleep up here tonight?" I whispered.
    "You can sleep wherever the fuck you want."
     I smiled.
     Mission accomplished.