MHA 2025!

(This is just one chapter)

The air in the common room hung thick and heavy, a toxic smog of unspoken accusations and betrayal. Kirishima stumbled out, the image of Bakugo's face – a rare mixture of guilt and defiance – burned into his mind. It wasn't the act itself, not the long-ago hookup between Bakugo and Shinso, Denki's boyfriend at the time. It was the silence. The omission. The months of shared secrets, battles fought shoulder-to-shoulder, and whispered confidences that suddenly felt tainted, incomplete.

He slammed the door to his dorm room, the sound echoing the turmoil inside him. He needed to punch something, scream something, feel something other than this hollow ache in his chest. He flung himself onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow, trying to stifle the sob that clawed its way up his throat.

And then, like a rusty cog grinding back to life, his body reminded him of its unwelcome tenant. He cursed under his breath, a frustrated, guttural sound. The lust quirk. An experiment gone wrong, a constant, throbbing reminder of his lack of control. Even now, amidst the emotional wreckage, his cock hardened, a traitor answering a call he hadn't made.

"Damn it!" He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling, willing the unwanted arousal to subside. Nothing worked. The frustration boiled over, a potent mix of anger, humiliation, and a deep, soul-crushing loneliness.

A knock. Of course. Why wouldn't it be? He considered ignoring it, feigning sleep, disappearing into the folds of his comforter. But denial wasn't his style. Facing things head-on, that was the Kirishima way. Even if it was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Yeah?" he called out, his voice rough and strained.

The door creaked open, and Bakugo stood framed in the doorway, his usual scowl replaced with a hesitant unease. He looked smaller somehow, less imposing.

"Can we talk?" he asked, the words clipped, almost a demand, but with a tremor that betrayed his carefully constructed facade.

Kirishima sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. "Yeah. Come in."

Bakugo closed the door behind him, the click echoing in the small space. He remained standing, a few feet from the bed, as if unsure of whether he was welcome.

"Are you... mad?" Bakugo finally asked, the question hanging in the air like a loose wire.

"Mad?" Kirishima scoffed, the sound laced with bitterness. "Mad is stubbing my toe. Mad is losing a sparring match. This... this is more than mad, Bakugo. This is… messed up."

He sat up, pushing himself against the headboard, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "You didn't tell me. After everything, after all this time, you just… didn't tell me."

Bakugo shifted his weight, avoiding Kirishima's gaze. "It was before. Before we were… anything. It didn't seem important."

"Not important?" Kirishima's voice rose, the anger finally breaking through. "Shinso was dating Denki! Denki, your friend, my friend! Don't you think that's something I would like to know?"

"It was a mistake!" Bakugo snapped back, his defensiveness flaring. "I was under a lust quirk! It didn't mean anything!"

"That's not the point, Bakugo!" Kirishima yelled, the lust quirk throbbing in his body, a cruel counterpoint to the emotional pain tearing him apart. "The point is you kept it from me! You lied by omission. We're supposed to be partners, friends, more! How can I trust you when you hide something like that?"

He took a deep breath, trying to regain control. He couldn't let his emotions overwhelm him. He had to be strong, even if it hurt.

"I think… I think we need a break," he said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.

Bakugo's face crumpled, the raw emotion on his face surprising Kirishima. "A break? You mean…?"

Kirishima nodded, unable to meet his eyes. "I need time to process this. Time to figure out if I can even look at you without thinking about… all of this."

He was hurting, deeply, profoundly. But there was a strange sense of control in this, in making the decision, in taking back some of the power that the lust quirk and Bakugo's silence had stolen from him.

Bakugo nodded, slowly, his face a mask of pain. "I understand." He turned and walked out of the room, leaving Kirishima alone in the suffocating silence.

Hours crawled by. Kirishima tried everything to distract himself. Training videos, loud music, even cold showers, all futile attempts to quell the insistent, throbbing desire fueled by the lust quirk. He felt like a prisoner in his own body, a puppet dancing to the tune of a perverse puppeteer.

Another knock. He groaned inwardly. "Who is it?"

"It's me. Denki." His voice sounded tentative, hesitant.

Kirishima hesitated, then sighed. He couldn't hide forever. "Come in."

Denki slipped into the room, his usual bright smile replaced with a worried frown. He closed the door softly behind him.

"Hey, Kiri. How are you holding up?" he asked, his voice low and sincere.

The question was a dam breaking. Kirishima burst into tears, the pent-up emotions flooding out of him. He choked out the story of the fight with Bakugo, the revelation, the break-up, the agonizing, unrelenting effects of the lust quirk.

Denki listened patiently, his blue eyes filled with concern. When Kirishima finished, he pulled him into a hug, holding him tight as he sobbed.

"I'm so sorry, Kiri," Denki whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "This is all such a mess."

They stayed like that for a long time, just holding each other, two friends finding solace in shared pain. When they finally pulled apart, an unexpected tension hung in the air.

Denki blushed, looking away. "So… I broke up with Shinso."

"What? Oh, Denki, I'm so sorry," Kirishima said, feeling a pang of guilt.

"Don't worry about it," Denki said quickly. "It was coming for a while. We just… weren't working. Besides," he hesitated, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink, "there's someone else I like."

Kirishima's curiosity piqued. He had always thought Denki and Shinso were good together.

"Oh? Who?" he asked, the question barely a whisper.

Denki took a deep breath, his eyes locking with Kirishima's. "It's you, Kiri."

The words hit Kirishima like a physical blow. He stared at Denki, speechless, his mind reeling. He had harbored a secret crush on Denki for months, but had always dismissed it as a fleeting infatuation, a consequence of their close friendship and shared experiences. He never imagined Denki felt the same way.

The lust quirk pulsed through him, adding another layer of confusion to the already complex situation. Was this genuine emotion, or just the amplified desire of the quirk? He didn't know, but he couldn't deny the pull he felt towards Denki, a magnetic force that transcended the physical.

He reached out and gently cupped Denki's cheek, his thumb caressing the soft skin. "I… I feel the same way, Denki," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

A tentative smile spread across Denki's face, chasing away the worry in his eyes. "Really?"

Kirishima nodded, his gaze fixed on Denki's lips. He leaned in, hesitantly at first, then with increasing confidence.

Their lips met, a soft, tentative exploration that quickly deepened into a passionate kiss. It was different from kissing Bakugo, softer, sweeter, filled with a longing and vulnerability that resonated deep within Kirishima's soul.

The kiss broke, and they stared at each other, breathless and flushed. One kiss led to another, a flurry of hands and desperate touches. Clothes were shed, bodies pressed together, the air thick with unspoken desire.

Denki's hands were everywhere, exploring Kirishima's body, teasing and tantalizing. He knelt before Kirishima, his warm breath caressing his skin, and took him in his mouth. Kirishima groaned, his body arching in response, the pleasure intense and overwhelming.

Later, they took turns, giving and receiving, their bodies moving in a rhythm of shared pleasure and release. Each touch, each kiss, each moan was a testament to their newfound connection, a fragile bloom pushing through the wreckage of their previous relationships.

Afterward, they lay tangled together in the sheets, panting and exhausted, but strangely at peace. No guilt, no shame, just a sense of profound relief and a flicker of hope in the darkness.

Kirishima looked at Denki, his face flushed and his hair tousled, and smiled. It was the first genuine smile he had felt in days.

"Wow," Denki whispered, returning the smile.

Kirishima leaned down and kissed him again, a soft, lingering kiss that spoke volumes.

He didn't know what the future held, or if this newfound connection with Denki would last. 

But in that moment, lying in Denki's arms, he felt a sense of hope, a glimmer of light in the darkness. For the first time in a long time, Kirishima felt a sense of release and freedom. Maybe, just maybe, something beautiful could grow from the ashes of his broken heart.