Sex with Bakugo is good, you decide. Not spectacular, but good. He likes to nudge his nose into your cheek and whisper little quips to urge you on, even as you lay there and take it. The way he cages your body under his is... gentle. Too gentle. Aggravatingly gentle. With his attitude, you thought he'd fuck you rough and raw, into the fucking carpet, but instead, he caresses. He delays. He kisses. He-
Bakugo rips himself away from you, all huffed breath. "Where do you go?"
His voice brings you back to the moment. The room shifts as your eyes adjust back on to him. His cock is still inside you, just barely, only the tip like it's a forgotten detail between you. Sex with Bakugo is good because it's warm. Sometimes, his hands literally crackle with heat around you.
Now, they pull away from you and the room goes cold.
"You went fucking dead behind the eyes." He gestures to his own face, like it makes everything makes sense. "This face like you're-- Like I'm--"
Unlike Hawks and his forehead kisses, Katsuki rubs his thumb back and forth in whatever space he can find. Today, it's your inner bicep, up and down with too little pressure.
Up, down, up, down. The motion clogs your mind. Sex already leaves your brain sticky with memories and the damn touch just adds sand to grind between the gears. You need to smile and ask him a question, something needling and clever, with just enough of an edge that he's turned away from you-
"Don't deflect."
You nearly activate your quirk on instinct. Too seen. He's got you pinned under his sight, when you'd rather be pinned by his body.
Sex is supposed to be uncomplicated. Hawks fucks you without preamble or pretext. Why does Katsuki insist on bringing emotion into it?
"Just tell me what's wrong."
"I'm thinking about something else."
"'cause I'm fucking you bad?"
You almost smile at that. "No."
Silence hangs about you as you wait for the following up question, but it never comes. Instead, Bakugo pulls fully away from you and rolls to his side of the bed, adjusting the sheets around him. You're left there, looking at the textured ceiling as he sighs to himself.
"Listen," he says. "These games you play, I- I'm not gonna fucking wrangle it out of you, but-"
He grumbles out a noise between a sigh and a groan.
"Fuck, girl. I like you. Let me like you."
This tickles a part of your brain. Likes you? No one likes you. People are fascinated by you, perturbed by you, obsessed with you, but they never like you. You're unsettling, disturbing, barely even human-
"You like me?" It even feels wrong to say, but Bakugo just shrugs one shoulder.
"Why else would I fuck you?"