Work Text:
Mezou was jogging through the forest behind Heights Alliance, like he did every morning before class. It was something he started doing almost immediately after they had settled into life at the dorms. It was peaceful; he never saw anyone else out so early. He eventually felt comfortable going for a run without his mask. Though it was pooled around his neck, just in case.
He was a little lost in thought when the snapping of twigs drew his attention. Turning his head, he caught sight of spiky ash blond hair. He quickly turned away and pulled his mask up, settling it into place just as Bakugou fell into step next to him. A few minutes went by in silence; then the tell-tale pops of Bakugou’s palms reached his ears for a few seconds before fizzling out. Mezou glanced at him, but Bakugou’s demeanor gave nothing away.
They ran through the winding paths until they were coming up to the back door of the dorm building. Without a word, they split up, going in different entrances. They didn’t speak for the rest of the day.
The next morning, Mezou set out like he did every morning—a mask pooled around his neck. The building was quiet, the first sounds reaching his ears just before he stepped out the front door. He set off, the paths seemingly deserted, as was usual. And for the first twenty minutes, he remained alone. But then, sneakers crunching against earth reached his ears. He pulled his mask up, glancing to his left just as Bakugou fell into step with him.
Neither spoke for a few minutes; but Mezou got the distinct impression that Bakugou wanted to, if his furtive glances were any indication.
“What’s on your mind, Bakugou?” he asked, breaking the thickening silence a few moments later; though he was sure he already knew. He slowed to a stop.
There was a long pause, as Bakugou slowed to a stop, turning to look back at Mezou, his eyebrows pinching slightly. “I’m ruining your runs, aren’t I?”
“Why do you think that?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.
Bakugou rolled his eyes with a huff. “Because you put your mask on,” he said, his tone sounding as if the answer should be obvious.
“I’m used to wearing—”
“Tch. What do you even have to fuckin’ hide under there, hah?” Bakugou scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.
Mezou cocked an eyebrow, crossing his own arms over his own chest, though he brought a third hand up, pressing it into the mask over the lower part of his face. “Uh… a lot, actually…”
Bakugou lolled his head back, as if he couldn’t possibly believe that. “Loser. I bet it’s nothin’. I bet you just wanna fuckin’ look cool.”
Mezou snorted, the hand covering his mask pinching at the fabric instead. “I guess it’s my turn to share a secret,” he said, exhaling slowly.
Bakugou’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline as if he wasn’t expecting that response; but he didn’t say anything. Slowly, Mezou tugged at his mask, inching it down until it was pooled around his neck once again.
Katsuki's brow furrowed slightly as he took in the sight before him. Shouji’s face was elongated, but that had always seemed obvious. Hiding under his ridiculously long bangs, was a broad snout-like nose. His mouth was wide, and he had a strong jaw. But the thing that really, really drew Katsuki’s attention… were the scars.
Katsuki’s eyes widened as he took in the thick scars that sprouted along Shouji’s lips; a long one disappearing behind his neck. His palms sparked, his face contorting into a scowl. Shouji’s eyes widened slightly and then his mask was going back up. He jerked forward, a smoking palm catching Shouji’s wrist. “Who put scars on your face?”
Shouji’s hand had stilled, the tips of scars just barely visible as he looked back at Katsuki. His own brow furrowed for a moment before he answered. “Where I’m from… they don’t look too kindly on heteromorphs.” The simplicity in which the words left Shouji’s mouth kinda felt like he believed he deserved what he got.
Katsuki felt hot.
Smoking palms—his smoking palms—clutching a gakuran jacket, and the smell of charred fabric. He was sure the skin beneath must be burning. But Katsuki doesn’t care. The green eyes staring back at him were wide and terrified and he was reveling in it.
Katsuki quickly released Shouji’s wrist and turned away, his shoulders hiked up to his ears. “Well, they were assholes. I’ll see you tomorrow. Wear your mask if you want to. But you don’t need it.” And then he turned and jogged back to the dorm, leaving Shouji alone on a random path. Once again, Katsuki had a lot to think about. That seemed to happen a lot with Shouji, he was discovering.
He breezed through a quick shower, got dressed, grabbed his bag and headed to class. Deku was already there, sitting in his seat. Katsuki’s stomach clenched. He has to have scars… Shaking his head, Katsuki strode to his seat and flopped into it.
“Good morning, Kacchan,” came Deku’s way-too-cheery voice.
How can he talk to me that way?
Early the next morning, Mezou was getting ready for his run like usual. He was ready to head out, blindly snagging a mask from the modest collection he kept by his dorm room door. He paused; and then tucked it in his shorts pocket, rather than slipping it around his neck as usual. His trek through the building was quiet and uninterrupted as always, though he found himself slightly on edge. He couldn’t help the sigh of relief as he reached the front door unseen.
He stepped into the early morning light, taking a deep breath as he looked across the lawn. He thought he was alone until the familiar spiky blond hair of Bakugou appeared in the corner of his eye. Bakugou’s eyes met his, and for a moment, neither moved.
Bakugou gave a short nod, turning slightly toward the path that led to the forest behind their building. “You coming?” he said simply.
Mezou didn’t reply for a beat. He wasn’t used to not having to hide his face. It had been a long time since he had gone without a mask. “Yeah,” Mezou said, jogging up to him.
“Let’s get goin’ then, Tentacles,” Bakugou snapped, though it didn’t seem as intense as it usually did.
Mezou chuckled, his eyes shifting to Bakugou as they started to jog down the familiar path. “Tentacles?”
“Tch. It’s just a nickname…” Bakugou huffed, though the tips of his ears were a faint pink.
“Mmhmm… I suppose it’s a step up from ‘Octopus Arms’...” Mezou replied, amusement faint on his breath.
Bakugou didn’t respond, but Mezou thought he caught the corner of his mouth quirk up into a faint smile.
They ran in silence for a few more minutes before faint crackling pops reached Mezou’s ears. It had happened before. Is Bakugou nervous? But Mezou didn’t ask. Then, he heard them again a few minutes later.
“Bakugou, are you nervous about something?” Mezou asked gently, his gaze shifting over Bakugou’s face before going back to the path before him.
“Hah? Why would I be nervous?” Bakugou asked gruffly, looking at Mezou, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“I don’t know. But your hands were sparking, and you said—”
“I’m just getting rid of the excess sweat,” Bakugou said, cutting him off. He held up a palm for Mezou to see; it was rather sweaty and then his palm crackled, and the sweat was gone. As they ran, he could see more was already forming.
“Ah,” Mezou said simply. Silence fell over them as they jogged. But now, Mezou found himself curious about something. “Can I ask you something?”
“What?” Bakugou asked simply, not looking at him as they continued their jog.
“Are your hands ticklish?”
Bakugou stopped short, his cheeks a faint red. “What…?”
Mezou stopped when he heard Bakugou’s voice was quieter than it had been. He turned to face him, his head cocking to the side, letting a grin slide onto his face. “Are your hands ticklish? The nature of your quirk made me curious.”
Bakugou’s eyebrows furrowed, and then he lifted his hands, almost as if seeing them for the first time. “I don’t know…”
“Well, if you’re curious… we could find out. But, no pressure,” Mezou said simply, with a shrug. He wouldn’t push.
“Here?” Bakugou looked around, seemingly unsure.
“We can go further into the forest, or elsewhere. I don’t think you’ll be as… loud as usual…” Mezou said with another grin—laughing at the embarrassed glare Bakugou shot his way.
“Lead the way, Tentacles…” Bakugou groused, gesturing widely to the forest before them; but Mezou could hear the increase in his heartbeat.
He hummed, motioning for Bakugou to follow as he stepped off the path through a small thicket of bushes. Small pops reached his ears again. “We don’t have to do this just because I’m curious.”
“I’m fine! Worry about your-damn-self.”
Mezou rolled his eyes with a slightly fond huff, earning another glare from Bakugou. As they walked—further from where he was sure they would run into any passersby—he began pulling a few blossoms from the different trees and bushes they passed. Soon, they came to a clearing. Mezou gestured to a squat, flat rock. “Sit, please.”
Bakugou cocked an eyebrow as his eyes tracked Mezou’s hand. But he complied, his palms crackled shortly before momentarily clenching into fists. “What are those for?” He asked, jutting his chin toward the small collection of foliage in Mezou’s grasp.
Crouching in front of him, Mezou held out one of his hands, waiting. “You’ll see.”
“Tch.” Bakugou rolled his eyes, but slowly unfurled his fists, lightly resting one of his own hands palm up in Mezou’s waiting one.
A second hand reached for Bakugou’s, gently stretching his fingers out. “Ready?” Mezou asked quietly.
But Bakugou just huffed, hand flexing in Mezou's hold. Amusement flared in his chest as Bakugou’s eyes widened slightly as he adjusted to keep it in this new position. “Get on with it,” Bakugou growled, but his ears were bright red.
Mezou tilted his head to the side, arching an eyebrow. “Feeling mouthy because you’re not as helpless as you usually are…?” he teased, very gently gliding the tip of his finger down the center of Bakugou’s outstretched palm.
He bit back the amused grin pulling at his mouth.
A blush was flaring at the blond’s cheeks. “Sh-Shut up!” he bit out, his palm twitching slightly. Bakugou’s gaze was intense as it tracked Mezou’s finger lightly tracing along the open space of his palm.
“I can change that, if you’d prefer,” Mezou said easily, his sharp gaze studying Bakugou’s face, a small smirk contorting his mouth as he let his finger slowly spiral out from the center of Bakugou’s palm. He gently set the picked foliage in the grass where he crouched.
Bakugou’s lip curled as he looked away, tugging slightly against Mezou’s grasp—goosebumps spreading up his forearm. “I can change that, if you’d prefer,” Bakugou quietly mocked.
Clearly, he had forgotten that Mezou had pretty good hearing, even without using his quirk.
Mezou heaved a dramatic sigh of disappointment, a chuckle rumbling in his chest when Bakugou went still—his eyes snapping to meet his.
He was sure there was at least a flicker of amusement in his eyes that he failed to hide as he yanked Bakugou from his perch; the ticking of his clenched jaw and the pounding of his heart were unmistakable. Bakugou appeared nervous, but his struggling did not match.
Excited, then? Mezou chuckled again, and judging from the flicker of nervousness that slid across Bakugou’s face, it was a touch sinister.
Turning Bakugou around was easy. Settling the smaller boy in his lap—back pressed against his chest, in a way that Mezou was sure they both were finding familiar; Bakugou’s wrists firmly in his grip. Mezou leaned down until his unmasked mouth was unnervingly close to Bakugou’s ear—if the tremble that shot up Bakugou’s spine was any indication. He hummed, “We need to work on you asking for what you want.”
Bakugou’s hands curled into tight fists as he shifted to glare at Mezou properly. He laughed as Bakugou’s heartbeat stuttered; clearly he was trying to stay calm; but quickly, it was hammering at his ribcage. “What makes you think this is what I wanted, hah?”
Mezou’s chest rumbled with amusement. “You should know by now, Bakugou—I have very keen observation skills. You get snarky or combative when you want something you can’t ask for,” Mezou answered simply. And then, his voice dropped to a whisper, “I can hear your heart racing…”
Bakugou flushed, from his roots to his chest—promptly turning away. Mezou laughed, finally straightening back up. His limbs morphed, an extra eye forming on either side, giving him a clear view of Bakugou, who was glaring at him again.
And then Bakugou flinched, his attention shifting lower to his hands; Mezou was gently working them open with a second set of his own. Bakugou’s wrists twisted against Mezou’s hold, but that only made it slightly easier for Mezou to gradually work them open. Once they were, his hands seamlessly shifted to holding Bakugou’s fingers taut once more. “I’m not combative,” Bakugou hissed—as if suddenly remembering Mezou had said anything at all—his fingers curling uselessly against Mezou’s hold.
Mezou snorted. “So you didn’t literally make us have a rematch—just so I could pin you—after asking to meet up in the first place?” he asked, gently running the tips of a third set of index fingers down the center of Bakugou’s stretched-out palms.
“Mmphh!” Bakugou flinched, his hands jerking against Mezou’s hold, the hairs on his forearms standing on end. His shoulders hiked up to his ears—the tips still a faint pink.
But he didn’t otherwise respond.
Mezou couldn’t have that; his fingers gently spiraled out to the edges of Bakugou’s hands.
He shivered, his nose crinkling slightly as he fought Mezou’s hold, his mouth pressed into a tight line.
“I asked you a question…”
A nervous grin slipped across Bakugou’s face, though Mezou was sure he had tried to contain it; his arms tucking into his sides protectively. Mezou laughed again—the last time he’d said those words flickering in his mind.
“No!” Bakugou answered, a touch too forcefully, but Mezou found it entertaining.
“I thought we talked about you lying…” Mezou said, mock disappointment coating his words. His fingers trailed lightly down along the heels of the palms trapped in his hold.
Quiet snickers slipped past Bakugou’s lips, his struggles gradually building as Mezou’s fingertips swept back and forth. “Th-This is ridihiculouhus…” Bakugou grumbled through breathy giggles.
Mezou noted the beads of sweat beginning to pool in the dips of Bakugou’s taut palms; he didn’t mind, letting his fingers spider up their centers.
Katsuki gasped, his nose crinkling as the tingling momentarily intensified. “F-Fine, haa… L-Let me—”
Shouji’s fingers slowed and pulled back; but they were still poised, ready.
Katsuki let out a breath, his palms gently crackling until the sweat was gone.
Immediately, Shouji’s fingers were gliding through the wide open spaces again.
Katsuki gasped, his eyes widening, hands flexing as a chill ran up his spine—which only amused Shouji, if the chuckle he didn’t try to hide was any indication.
Slowly, his fingertips were teasing along the bases of Katsuki’s fingers. He pulled sharply against the iron grip around his wrists.
Shouji released a curious hum, his fingers retreating.
Katsuki released a shaky breath, shifting slightly in Shouji’s hold to track his hands.
“Something wrong?” he asked gently, reaching for a couple of blossoms with fat purple petals. His hands shifted until the edges of a petal were gently resting along each of the heels of Katsuki’s hands.
His stomach clenched; they hadn’t moved yet, but where they touched already felt tingly. Nerves, it was just nerves. He let out a breath, and then the blossoms were rotating slowly, inching up through the center of his palms. His hands flexed, a shiver dancing up his spine again. “W-Whyhy is ihit…” Katsuki trailed off, tucking his lower lip between his teeth.
The hold on his fingers relaxed, allowing him a bit of wiggle room. “Why is it, what?”
Katsuki quickly flexed and curled his newly freed fingers—trying to ball them into fists as the petals teased slow circles in the centers of his palms.
Shouji lightly teased a single finger along the base of Katsuki’s fingers, from one hand, to the other, and back. Katsuki curled his fingers helplessly, the need to squirm building as gentle tingling radiated up his arms. He shivered as the hair on his arms stood on end. Sweat was already forming in his palms again. “Pff—hehehempha—worse…!”
“It is?” Shouji asked. Katsuki got the distinct impression he was trying to play innocent, but it wasn’t quite believable. But he said nothing more, his fingers trailing to the center of his palms, the petals cartwheeling against his fingers.
“Ye—Quihit touching myhihi sweheheat!” Katsuki’s fingers curled tighter before flexing, his wrists jerking against their prison.
“I don’t think either of us can help that it’s there, unfortunately…” Shouji chuckled. “Is it bothering you? We can stop.” He pulled the blossoms and his hand back again.
“Tch. Maybe you need to relax.” Katsuki ignited the sweat droplets, carefully contained to the centers of his palms. “It’s fine, or whatever…”
Shouji’s hands moved in again, fingers lacing between Katsuki’s, near the tips; leaving gaps between his fingers. The fat purple petaled flowers disappeared, some kind of plant with long, pink wispy tendrils taking their place.
A grimace pulled at Katsuki’s features as they drew closer, his palms crackling gently, his heart was pulsing in his ears. Why? It’s not even that bad… He watched the tendrils draw nearer, his palms continued to crackle.
A deep chuckle rumbled against his back as the tendrils swept up the centers of his palms. “Is it worse than you’re letting on, Bakugou?”
“Mmmpphhhmhmh! Fuhuckin’ sh-shuhuhut uhuhuhup!” Katsuki’s hands flexed, straining against Shouji’s hold in a vain attempt to close. He’s too damn strong…
“Such language for someone who’s getting what he wants…” Shouji said, so casually, those damn tendrils slipping between the gaps in his fingers, teasing up the inner lengths.
“Me-EEEhmhmhph!?” Katsuki snapped his mouth shut around the rapidly building laughter, his hands jerking, wrists twisting as sparks danced at his palms. They soon fizzled out though, and more hands were bringing another tendril-like plant—this one longer, thinner, and silver—to swirl over his palms. A quiet snort mixed in with the growing giggles he was trying to keep at bay with clenched teeth, a crooked grin pulled taut across his face.
“Yes, you. If you didn’t want to be tickled right now, we wouldn’t be here.” Both sets of blossoms lifted away, ghostly tingles still dancing along his palms.
Shouji spoke so nonchalantly, Katsuki just wanted to blow up his stupid mouth.
“Tch. Youhou’re the ohone th-that asked!” Katsuki bit out as his laughter faded away; his palms flexing uselessly.
“You could have said ‘no’,” Shouji said, so matter-of-factly, Katsuki wanted to explode his stupid mouth again.
Heat spread from Katsuki’s roots, disappearing under the tank top he wore. He scowled, glaring at that stupid eye-appendage Shouji had been using to watch him, his jaw tightening for a moment. “I could have, but I didn’t think you could get me too worked up out in the open. You don’t have it in you to be mean. You’re too… soft.”
The dupli-eye widened and then settled in a surprisingly unsettling glare. And then Katsuki could feel his body shifting—Oh no... Before he could open his mouth, a large hand was squeezing at his cheeks; warm breath at his ear. His arms finally stopped shifting when they couldn't be lifted any higher—Katsuki's legs were pinned tightly between Shouji's thighs.
"I am happy to show you how soft I can be, Bakugou." Shouji's voice came quietly, amused, and dangerous.
A sensation so light prickled just below his exposed armpits—nerves or fingers, Katsuki couldn't quite tell—nervous giggles bubbling up as goosebumps spread over his skin. He swallowed, his arms trembling. His heart was already pounding. He knew he’d draw someone’s attention if Shouji struck there.
That light sensation spread out slowly, forcing Katsuki into a desperate arch as he pressed his teeth together, frantic giggles bubbling in his chest. The prickle stopped at the curve of his torso, and then slowly slid back inward to a point. He shuddered, his arms straining uselessly to come down. His laughter sputtered as his mouth stretched into a nervous grin—fighting the squeeze of his cheeks—his eyes squeezing shut, a vain attempt to block out the sensation teasing his worst spot for a second time.
Familiar fingertips ghosted over the exposed expanse. Katsuki jerked backward, not caring that the wall he was crashing against was actually his classmate. "NAHAHAMMPPHHEHE!” The fingers twitched, tapping teasingly, as if they were waiting for something. “P'eathe..." He whined, forcing himself to be still in case struggling made the feeling worse. Crackles danced across his palms.
The prickle subsided as sure fingers prodded into the center of his ribs, gentler ones brushing just below his elbows. “Was that… a ‘please’ I thought I heard?”
Katsuki jerked forward, his wrists pulling against the huge hands that held them overhead. “HYAHA! Nghheehehe! YEHehe!” Not sure he was properly understood, Katsuki nodded quickly, his giggles rising in urgency as Shouji’s fingers started to move.
His fingers began the slow trek up, fingertips teasing into every bone the higher they climbed; blunt nails gliding down, and slowly back up, only to change course again. “I’m a bit surprised you admitted it, let alone that you said it,” Shouji admitted, his fingers shifting to a more gentle touch as they climbed.
So close… Katsuki squeezed his eyes shut, another nervous grin fighting to stretch his squished cheeks as he whimpered.
“Surprised though I am, I’ll leave that spot alone. Can’t say I won’t get close, though.” Amusement bled into his words as fingers ghosted over Katsuki’s uppermost ribs, more descending into his armpits.
His heart was pounding; he arched sharply, he had to put more space between Shouji’s fingers and his most vulnerable spot. His head whipped back and forth, his arms straining uselessly. His growing giggles remained trapped behind clenched teeth, his nose crinkled in effort to keep them there.
Time slid by—he had no way to tell how much—but Shouji’s fingers were shifting away; the ones in his armpits pulled away entirely as the ones at his ribs shifted back down.
Gently, they spidered over Katsuki’s quivering stomach.
Katsuki watched as his tank top was pulled up high enough to expose his belly button; watched helplessly as four of the hands morphed into mouths. Oh, fuck… He shook his head—pretty sure he squealed as he tried to shrink away, a stupid grin pulling at his mouth.
The hand at his face shifted, a palm pressed to his mouth. Katsuki didn’t know whether to be grateful or more nervous—he definitely knew what was coming, now…
Either side of his belly button, right over, and just above, a mouth touched down. And then—
PpbbBBFFTTT!!
A shrill yell ripped from Katsuki’s throat as he fought to curl in on himself, a leg fighting against the press of Shouji’s thighs to offer minimal protection. “BWAHMHMHMHPHA—F-FAHAHA!”
The hand pressed more firmly against his mouth.
PpbbBBFFTTT!!
Katsuki’s stomach quivered as he tried again to curl up, his leg jerking free, only to be stopped as the lowest mouth quickly morphed into a hand—digging expertly into the muscle of his thigh.
With a shriek, his leg jerked back down, squeezed once more between muscular thighs—Shouji’s fingers kneading all-too-knowingly at Katsuki’s too-sensitive thigh muscle.
He hiccuped, his leg jerking uselessly. A snort cut through his growing shrill laughter, his leg flailing helplessly. “WAHAHAHAHA!! O-OHOHOKAAHAYY!!”
Frantically, he snapped his fingers.
As was growing to be the usual, Shouji’s hands went still, careful in removing themselves. Katsuki’s arms were carefully lowered before Shouji released his wrists just as gently.
Katsuki sucked in slow, deep breaths, his face a bright red as he eyed Shouji cautiously. He did not appear conflicted as he did when they met in his dorm. Katsuki’s heart was thumping anxiously, but he was relieved when the lightness spread through him and he sighed.
He was content once more.