On the whole, Katsuki wasn’t given to introspection. Man of action, that was him. If he spent all his time thinking about shit, he wouldn't be one of country's most prominent young heroes. But occasionally, just occasionally, he had to take a moment and wonder: how the fuck did his life turn out like this?
"Bakugo-kun? Hey, Bakugo-kun!" A pause. "Kacchan!"
Katsuki violently twitched and spun around on the couch from where he had been venting his feelings on a game of Super Smash Bros. It was Uraraka, grinning at him like a cat.
“I knew you’d respond to that name,” she said smugly. Katsuki scowled at her.
“What do you want?” he said gruffly, to cover up his increasingly thunderous heartbeat. She had just gotten back from her afternoon run, wearing only a sports bra and shorts in the summer heat.
“Is it okay if Deku-kun comes over tonight?”
He turned back the screen to avoid staring at the sweat gleaming on her stomach.
“What the hell are you asking me for?” he said, mashing buttons grimly. “He’s your boyfriend.”
“Ehh, but you live here too,” said Uraraka. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” From the sound of it, she had gone over to the fridge and was rummaging in it for something to drink. Katsuki kept his eyes fixed on the screen. Even though she was working full time as a hero now, she was still too cheap to spend money on anything other than the bare essentials. She insisted on sending most of her paycheck to her parents. The fact that there were always a few bottles of her favorite energy drink in the fridge was absolutely a coincidence and Katsuki would deny involvement to his grave.
“It’s fine,” he said. “I don’t mind.”
There was the crack of a bottle opening and a breathless, gulping pause.
“Yay!” she said. “We were going to watch the new Godzilla movie, you want to watch with us?”
”No,” Katsuki wants to yell. “What’s wrong with you? Why do you keep inviting me to dates with your boyfriend?” But some of Kirishima’s lectures about things like ‘being nice to people’ and ‘friendship’ must have made an impact somewhere along the line, because all he did was grunt and use Samus’s arm cannon to blast Kirby off the edge of the arena.
“Cool!” said Uraraka brightly, rightly interpreting that as the closest to assent she would get from him. “I’m gonna go shower, then.”
Katsuki stared fixedly at Smash until she was out of the room, and then dropped the controller and slumped back against the couch.
This fucking sucked.
In hindsight, it was surprisingly easy to pinpoint when it all started to go downhill. High school had been...fine. Uraraka had been a surprisingly worthy opponent, one of the less annoying presences in class A. Deku had been...Deku. He and Uraraka had been attached at the hip, and that had been fine. Nothing to do with Katsuki.
Then they had graduated, and Uraraka and Katsuki had somehow ended up at hero agencies mere blocks from each other. So, it had made sense for them to share an apartment. Then Uraraka and Deku finally got their act together and started dating for real, and all of a sudden things became significantly less than fine.
Part of the problem—okay, most of the problem—was that in high school Deku and Uraraka looked like annoying round-faced, round-eyed twins. Innocent and earnest and cheerful. But then, inexplicably, they'd gotten hot. Deku remained short but bulked up in a major way, shoulders filling out and face losing the last of its baby fat. Since he switched to kick-based offense, that meant a lot of leg training, which meant his thighs were fucking massive. The way his costume stretched around them was nothing short of obscene, in Katsuki's opinion. It was practically public indecency, but no one else seemed to notice, probably because they were all busy swooning over his "amazing heroism" and "chivalrous nature". Whatever.
As for Uraraka...she was just like, objectively cute, in the way that baby animals were cute. Katsuki wasn’t blind. He noticed her pink cheeks, her shiny hair, the soft curves of her breasts and hips. After her internship at Gunhead's back in their first year at UA, she had gotten really into martial arts as a way to balance out relatively combat-weak quirk. Years of hard work later, she had thighs now too. And abs. And biceps and triceps, and an ass that Katsuki tried very, very hard not to notice because he didn't want to be that guy. They were roommates, for god's sake. She trusted him in her space. He'd die before turning into another Mineta.
Anyway, seeing the two of them together was a little like being slapped in the face, and a lot like being slapped in the dick, no matter how much he tried to remind himself that they were both huge nerds. It never worked, because there was a part of him he couldn’t turn off that recognized the power lurking in both of them, the bright confident gleam in their eyes, and thought: “They could wreck me.”
And that, really, was the root of the problem, wasn’t it?
Katsuki swore to himself that he was going to keep his distance during the movie. That lasted approximately fifteen minutes, until ‘watching Godzilla’ inevitably turned into ‘arguing about who could take Godzilla in a fight’ because anyone who said heroes had a social life were dirty liars. By the time Katsuki realized what was happening, he was mashed up next to Uraraka on the couch, leaning across her to make an urgent point to Deku about the logistics of fighting a giant lizard. He knew for a fact that when the movie started he had been on the very opposite end of the couch from them.
“Whatever,” he said, agonizingly conscious of the warm press of Uraraka’s body against his and the fact that he was very, very close to Deku’s face. He pulled away and flopped back to his side of the couch. “You’re wrong.”
Deku actually rolled his eyes at Katsuki, which would never have happened in high school.
“Okay, Kacchan,” he said, in an indulgent voice that made Katsuki want to punch him. “If you say so.” He yawned and stretched out an arm over Uraraka’s shoulders. She made a pleased sound and snuggled against him. The tips of his fingers just brushed Katsuki’s shoulders, and he tried not to twitch. The touch felt like a brand.
“I bet I could take him,” said Uraraka, and Katsuki squinted at her, momentarily distracted.
“Like hell,” he said. “He’s a lizard the size of twelve buildings. What are you gonna do, just float him away like a balloon?”
“Exactly,” she said.
“Bullshit. He’s too heavy. You’d puke after thirty seconds.”
“I wouldn’t,” insisted Uraraka.
“If Ochako got him clear of the city, you and I could take him out,” said Deku. “You could widen your blast radius without having to worry about civilians. Your range is almost twenty-five meters nowadays, isn’t it?”
Something clenched in Katsuki’s chest, both at the casual assumption they would be working as a team and Deku’s irritating habit of keep tabs on everything Katsuki did.
“Twenty-seven, actually,” he said snidely. “Nerd.”
Deku, as usual, ignored the tone. His eyes lit up.
“Wow, you’ve gotten it to twenty-seven! Kacchan, that’s amazing!”
He used to find Deku’s comments mocking. Now they just made him want to curl up with embarrassment. The fight went out of him and he slumped down on the couch, hoping to god his blush wasn’t visible.
“It’s just an extra two meters,” he muttered.
“Eh, that’s really impressive, Bakugo-kun!” said Uraraka brightly. Damn it. Were they doing this on purpose?
“Yeah, okay, shut up,” he said. “I want to watch the movie.”
It was late by the time the movie was done, and Uraraka had been yawning for the past thirty minutes.
"Okay, we're going to go to bed," she said, after turning the TV off and dumping out the last of the popcorn she and Deku had been sharing. "Goodnight, Bakugo-kun."
"Night, Kacchan," said Deku, stretching. It made his shirt ride up, exposing his belly button and the low-slung line of his pants. Katsuki got his phone out and jabbed at it, pretending he got an urgent text.
"Yeah, night," he muttered to his phone screen. He took his time in the bathroom, brushing his teeth for longer than strictly necessary before finally steeling himself to go into the bedroom. The thing about their shitty cheap apartment was the walls were also shitty and cheap. And thin. Very, very thin, and the two bedrooms were right next to each other. As he stripped off his shirt and sweatpants and got into bed, he could hear Uraraka say something and Deku laugh, low and amused. Uraraka's hand-me-down mattress gave a loud creak, and there was a very conspicuous silence.
Katsuki's blood pounded in his ears, the loudest sound in the room. His dick was swelling in his boxers for no reason at all except for what might be happening behind the wall. This was ridiculous. He had fucking classically conditioned himself to get a hard-on based on the sound of squeaky bedsprings. It was pathetic. He was pathetic.
There was a thump from behind the wall, and a muffled indistinct noise that Katsuki couldn't make out except that it sounded like a gasp.
Nope. Nope. Fuck this. Katsuki gathered his duvet and earbuds and fled. Fuck Deku and Uraraka anyway, who had sex when their roommate was trying to sleep right next door? He waddled to the couch, keeping the duvet firmly over his crotch. He put his earbuds in, cranked the volume up, and turned over. It was going to be a long night.
He woke up to the smell of breakfast cooking and the sound of hushed voices. Groaning, he turned over and groped for his phone on the bedside table before he remembered where he was. He had half-throttled himself with his earbuds, and his phone was almost out of battery. He dragged himself to the bathroom and back to find Deku and Uraraka eating breakfast in the kitchenette.
“Morning, Kacchan,” said Deku sleepily. He was only wearing a pair of sweatpants that were too tight around the hips, and no shirt. He had freckles on his shoulders, too, and scattered across his collarbones.
“Gah,” said Katsuki, “Deku, put on a shirt. That’s disgusting.”
They both gave him a look, Deku puzzled and Uraraka squinting like she thought there was something wrong with his head.
“Kacchan, you’re not wearing a shirt.”
Shit. He had forgotten he was still just in his boxers from last night.
“Well—” He floundered for a moment. “I live here! This is my apartment!”
Blank stares. He wasn’t awake enough for this.
“I’m going back to bed,” he growled, and stomped back to his room.
Uraraka woke him up a few hours later by pounding on his door.
”What,” he yelled through it.
“Did you forget?” she said, muffled. “Training!”
Katsuki groaned into his pillow. That was the absolute last thing he needed today. He and Uraraka had a weekly sparring session, which Uraraka got him to agree to on the grounds that he was a good opponent for her because of the wide range of his quirk. Katsuki was fairly certain the real reason was an attempt at some kind of roommate bonding activity. Either way, she seemed to get way too much enjoyment out of judo-flipping him across a training ground for an hour every week.
“Argh,” said Bakugo. “Fine!” He yelled back. “Fifteen minutes!”
The fight, like it normally did, came down to a waiting game, with Uraraka trying to get in close and Katsuki doing his best to keep her at bay. She’d really gotten a lot better since that first fight in the sports festival, especially once she got over her tendency to rush him, charging straight through his explosions in a move better suited to someone with Kirishima’s defensive capabilities. She still had a shiny pink scar on her arm where he lost control of a blast one time, and Bakugo had nearly quit training with her altogether over it.
She had sworn to be more careful, and had gotten pretty smart about manipulating the terrain to use it for cover—and for improvised traps. Bakugo had to be judicious in using his explosions because any rubble he created would only be ammo for her. And since that first fight, he’d learned to check above his head as well.
The training ground they used near their apartment was basically just an open arena with a cement floor that belonged to the municipal government, so it’s not like he could go all-out anyway. There was also no cover to speak of, so the only thing he could really do was try to put his back against a wall and send out a warning shots whenever she got too close.
She was being cautious, zigzagging low to the ground and keeping close to the walls. As part of her hero equipment she now carried small steel balls the size of marbles, she had thrown a handful in the air at the beginning of their fight and he had been keeping a wary eye on them ever since.
He saw movement and reacted: they were coming down, and so he blasted him out of the air. There was a thud next to him; a hand seized his wrist and suddenly he was upside-down, flying through the air as Uraraka threw him over her hip and he landed hard on his back. She was on him in an instant, a knee at his throat and his hands forced apart and immobilized.
Three separate trains of thought ran through his head simultaneously.
“The balls were a distraction. Must have used the opportunity to make herself weightless and launch off the nearest wall to close the gap.”
”Man, she’s getting really good at this.”
”If she doesn’t get off me right the fuck now things are going to end very, very badly.”
“Okay I give up,” he said in a wheeze which wasn’t even feigned. She really was leaning on his neck very heavily. “Get off me I can’t breathe.”
“Oh!” she said, and immediately climbed off him. “Sorry, sorry.” Bakugo breathed a sigh of relief and sat up, grateful for the bagginess of his pants.
“That was good,” he said gruffly. “Nice job.”
She beamed, smile lighting her face like the sun. It was dazzling. Katsuki fought the urge to squint.
She offered him a hand up.
“Cooldown?” she asked.
“Sure,” he said, and heaved himself up. Maybe if he ran enough laps it would divert the blood away from his dick.
They did a quick cooldown and then went back to the bench where they had left their water bottles.
"Hey," said Uraraka, gulping down some water. "Do you have a problem with Deku-kun coming over? I thought you guys were friends now."
"Urk," said Katsuki mid-swallow and broke into a coughing fit. "No! What, no. It's fine. We're fine."
"Cause you were acting really weird this morning."
Oh boy. She was like a bloodhound on a scent once she got hold of something like this. He changed tactics.
"Deku's not the problem," he said as firmly as he could. As soon as he said it, he could tell it was a mistake. She nodded, then bit her lip and peered at him with big eyes.
"Is it me then?"
"No!" he said quickly. "No. It's not you. It's—it's none of your business," he finished, glaring at her as fiercely as he knew how.
"Hmm," she said, and looked considering. Oh, that was bad.
"I gotta go," he said. "I told my mom I'd—uh—help her with a thing."
"Okay," she said, in a way that made him think she wasn't convinced at all. "Tell your mom I said hi."
Like hell he would. Katsuki's mom was already far too interested in both Deku and Uraraka.
"Okay, I will," he lied, picking up his water bottle and gym bag. "See you tonight."
"See you tonight," said Uraraka, face still abstracted in thought.
All Katsuki seemed to do lately was run away, he thought as he hurried out of the training grounds. He was honestly getting pretty sick of it.
Katsuki's agency worked on a rotating four-day on, three-day off schedule and he generally spent at least one of his off days on call via radio if any other heroes needed backup. Since it was an already off day, he figured he might as well go visit his parents anyway, because with his luck Uraraka would text his mom or something and then that would be it. He ended up staying for dinner and didn’t get back to the apartment till late. When he did, the lights were on in the kitchen and Uraraka and Deku were sitting at the table.
“Yo,” said Bakugo by way of greeting, hoping against hope he could cruise right past them and shut himself safely in his room for the rest of the night. But then the scene caught up with him, and he stopped. There was a first aid kit out on the table and Deku had a bandage above his right eye. Something in his stomach turned over, and not in a fun way.
“Hey, what the fuck is that?” he said, changing course and striding over to the table, jabbing a finger at the bandage.
“Ah, Kacchan,” said Deku sheepishly, and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing, I just got nicked with some shrapnel fighting a villain earlier today. Pretty dumb, huh?”
“Then you go to the hospital, dumbass!” said Katsuki, throwing up his hands.
“It was just a scratch,” said Deku. “I’ve gotten worse in training. It’s really more embarrassing than anything.”
He’d gotten worse from Katsuki. Because of Katsuki.
Katsuki abruptly couldn’t take it anymore. Uraraka’s eyes were jumping uneasily between them, her face set and worried.
“Fine!” he said. “Fine! Get yourself killed, then, see if I care!”
He turned to go, feeling well and truly explosive, but then a hand caught ahold his wrist. He knew the grip immediately. Fucking nerd couldn’t learn how to let things lie. Katsuki whirled around.
“Deku, I swear if you don’t get your hands off me this instant—”
“Kacchan, what’s wrong?”
There was that look again, the one that made something inside Katsuki churned up and unsettled. He tried taking a deep breath. Kirishima was always going on about mindfulness and relaxation techniques. Katsuki did not feel relaxed.
“Nothing,” he tried, “is wrong.” But Deku didn’t look like he was paying attention. He was peering at Katsuki as if seeing him for the first time, and then his eyes flicked to Uraraka.
“Ochako,” he began, and she, inexplicably, gave him a determined nod and a thumbs-up.
“What—” began Katsuki, but just then Deku cupped a hand around the back of his neck, hauled him down, and kissed him.
Katsuki was a man of action, and variations on this scenario had been haunting his dreams for—weeks? Months? He didn’t like to think about it. So he didn’t stop to think, just surged against Deku, fisting both hands in his shirt and pushing them both back into the table. Deku went easily, even though Katsuki knew if Deku could have stopped him with basically a single finger had he wanted. He licked into Deku’s mouth, greedy and gulping, and then bit down, rolling Deku’s lower lip between his teeth. He wanted fucking everything and if he was only going to get this one chance, he had to make it count.
Unfortunately, they had to come up for air sometime. Katsuki dizzily pulled back, heaving a breath. Deku’s mouth was a swollen red beacon, shiny with spit, and Katsuki thought, faintly, “I did that.”
He let go of Deku’s shirt. Stepped back. Waited for the yelling to start, or at the very least a hurried excuse. He didn’t dare look at Uraraka.
His stomach lurched. He could see her feet in her peripheral vision, walking over to him.
“Bakugo-kun, look at me.”
Slowly, hating himself, he raised his head. Before he knew what was happening, her small, clever hands were sliding up either side of his face and she was kissing him as fiercely as Deku. When she pulled back, Katsuki felt like his lips were tingling.
“There,” she said with satisfaction.
“Bwuh,” said Katsuki, in what was certainly not his strongest moment, but in his defense he didn’t think he was getting any blood flow to his brain just then.
“We figured out what the problem was,” said Uraraka. “You were uncomfortable with us, but not for the reason I thought.”
Deku stepped in close, slinging an arm over Uraraka’s shoulders. He grinned, not the nervous, placating grin of childhood but the confident, dazzling smile of the pro hero.
“Kacchan, do you want to come to bed with us?”
“Oh, fuck, yes,” breathed Katsuki.
They stumbled to Uraraka’s bedroom mostly as a unit. Uraraka seemed to want to grope at Katsuki’s chest and Deku kept almost tripping over his own feet. But they made it to the bed intact, falling heavily onto it with an alarming sproiiiing from the mattress.
"What do you want, Kacchan?" asked Deku breathlessly, untangling himself from Uraraka and sitting up. She draped herself over his back and propped her chin on his shoulder. Something about the magnitude of their twin gazes fixed on him unhinged him completely.
"I want you to fuck me hard while Uraraka sits on my face until I can't breathe," he blurted out, and immediately regretted it. That was coming on too strong, for sure. He half-expected to be booted out of the room on his ass. What was the etiquette for asking for a threesome with the people who would be your best friends if you admitted to having friends in the first place?
Instead, there was a sound that could only be described as a squeak. Katsuki's head shot up. Deku, everyone’s idol, the rising star of the new generation, and absolute pain in Katsuki's side, had turned brilliant red from the tips of his ears on down.
"Shit," said Katsuki, and Deku tried to cover his face with his hands. “Hey, no no no, wait—” He grabbed Deku’s wrists, pulling his hands away. ”Shit,” said Katsuki again wonderingly. “Really?”
“You brought it up,” said Deku weakly, face flaming.
“You like it,” retorted Katsuki. “You do, don’t you?” He turned disbelievingly to Uraraka. She was blushing too, but her grin took up half her face. That was answer enough.
"I think we can do that for you, Bakugo-kun," she said, and elbowed Deku in the ribs. "Right, Deku-kun?"
Deku muttered something into his forearms and then brought his head up.
"Yeah," he said, face still red but with a determined gleam in his eyes that made the bottom of Katsuki's stomach drop out. He let go of Deku’s wrists in a hurry. He recognized that look. It meant that Deku was about to crash his way through whatever obstacle was in front of him. "Yeah. You might want to take off your clothes first."
"Duh," said Katsuki, stripping off his tank top and sweatpants in possible world record time. Adrenaline was still pulsing through him, leaving him jittery, his dick only half-hard. When he was naked, he flopped back on the bed with what he hoped look like unconcern.
Deku and Uraraka stared at him.
"What?" he demanded. "Did you want a fucking striptease too?"
"Wow," said Uraraka, and Deku made a sort of choking noise. They both looked slightly dazed. Over him, Katsuki realized with a jolt. Which was—he knew he was pretty good-looking, there were always girls wanting his autograph and shit, but—
Now, to his horror, he was blushing.
"Get on with it," he snapped.
"Shit," said Deku, and dove for the bedside table. "I need--"
Uraraka crawled over to Katsuki, stripping off her shirt and wiggling out of her shorts and panties with an unconcern that made him hot all over. Her bra had polka-dots on it.
"Guess I'll start while Deku-kun gets the lube," she said, and without preamble swung a leg over him so there was a knee on either side of his head. He was suddenly right in the juncture of her legs, a breath away from the folds of her pussy and the brown curls of hair around it. From this angle she towered over him like she had a size-changing quirk, the bare, uninterrupted expanse of her skin intoxicating. He could smell her floral body wash, and sweat, and the musky scent of her cunt.
"Are you really going to be okay?" asked Uraraka, worry breaking through in her voice as she peered down at him.
"Yes, totally, absolutely," said Katsuki, dry-mouthed.
"Well, just tap on my leg if you get uncomfortable," she began, but Katsuki had had enough. He lifted his head and licked a stripe right up the center of her pussy. "Oh," said Uraraka in a high, surprised voice, and, as Katsuki hoped, ground down into the touch. When he worked his tongue into her, she made a breathy sort of noise that went straight to his dick, and he immediately vowed to coax as many of those noises out of her as possible.
He wondered if Deku had ever done this for her. He better damn well have, or Katsuki was going to kick his ass all the way to space. That put the image in his head of Deku’s head bracketed between Uraraka’s thighs, and he groaned, a wave of heat washing over his body that made him almost dizzy.
His dick was definitely hard now, he could feel it leaking against his stomach. Just as he was thinking that he desperately needed something to grind against, a pair of warm, rough hands slid up the backs of his thighs, pushing his knees up to his chest. There was the snap of a plastic cap and then, after an interminable pause, a slick finger probing at his entrance.
Katsuki’s breath left him in a rush. Uraraka pulled off him slightly, leaving his mouth free. Deku was predictably and annoyingly slow and careful, easing a single finger in at a snail’s pace, just enough to give the feeling of something inside him but not the fullness he needed.
“Is this okay?” Deku called anxiously.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” snarled Katsuki, trying to thrust against Deku’s fingers, but with Uraraka on top of him he had no leverage. “Fuck you, just hurry up!”
“Fuck me?” said Deku innocently. “But that’s not what you asked for, Kacchan.” Katsuki drew breath to curse him out again but Deku wiggled another finger in, and Katsuki groaned and buried his face in Uraraka’s thigh. But Deku didn’t start moving for real, just adjusted his fingers in a way that sent up sparks of sensation—and then stopped.
“Arghhh,” said Katsuki. His dick throbbed, unable to get friction against empty air and his ass felt weirdly half-full. He was teetering on the edge but unable to go over because of these two fucking teases. “For fuck’s sake, Deku. Is this going to take all year?”
“Hey,” said Uraraka, shifting off him. “Don’t talk to Deku-kun like that.”
“I’ll talk to him how I want until he gets his dick in me,” said Katsuki snidely, and Uraraka slapped him.
He didn’t feel it at first—just heard the sharp crack and wondered where the sound came from. But then pain bloomed across his face and he realized what had happened. He swallowed. Met Uraraka’s eyes. She looked shocked and guilty, clutching her hand like it had burned her. There was a moment of breathless silence. The sting from the slap began to fade, leaving heat in its wake.
He thought about the mark of her hand standing out like a brand on his face, and something dark and possessive curled down his spine.
“I said, ‘is this going to take all year?’” he repeated, not taking his eyes from hers.
It took her a moment. But then she raised her hand and crack, it came down again. Katsuki’s hips jerked, and, mortifyingly, he felt precome dribble from the tip of his cock. He closed his eyes and sank into the pain, savoring it. God, Deku’s fingers were still in his ass.
“What was that, a love tap?” he heard himself ask. He’d officially lost it. “C’mon, Uraraka. You won’t get anywhere with a weak hit like that.”
The next slap sounded like a thunderclap and felt like it rattled the bones of his jaw. Katsuki worked his jaw and breathed through it. He couldn’t come up with another clever remark.
“Are you done being a brat?” asked Uraraka, shaking out her hand, something like fondness in her eyes. Katsuki couldn’t bring himself to speak, just jerked a short nod.
“Okay, Deku-kun,” said Uraraka. “I think he’s ready. Don’t go easy on him.”
Deku withdrew his fingers, leaving Katsuki achingly empty. There was a short pause and then finally, finally the condom-covered head of Deku’s cock was pressing into him.
“God, yes,” he said fervently. “That feels amazing.” Deku had a great cock, Katsuki could now say that with total certainty. Thick enough to hurt, to make Katsuki feel stretched taut around him. He had just enough time to get used to the sensation before Uraraka was climbing back on top of him and his face was buried in her cunt. And then Deku started to move.
Katsuki had been prepared to complain about Deku going to easy on him, but the first thrust drove that thought straight out of his mind. For the first time, he really felt the discrepancy in their strength levels. Bakugo worked out, but aside from his quirk he was only as strong as a normal human. Deku, on the other hand, had only grown into his quirk. He had effortless control of All Might’s power now.
And he was using that power to slam into Katsuki’s ass again and again, relentless, with hands clenched around his hips in an iron grip. The momentum rocked Katsuki back along the bed, and he almost sobbed as Deku’s cock hit his prostate square on. For a moment he saw stars, then he regained enough presence of mind to go back to work on Uraraka, who was squirming impatiently.
After a little fumbling, he got his tongue on her clit, working quick and sloppy and rough to get her to her first orgasm. She came with another one of those amazing breathy noises that splashed onto Katsuki’s libido like fuel on a fire. Then she grabbed two handfuls of his hair and yeah, that was even better, feeling the tight yank against his scalp balanced with the dull bruising grip of Deku’s hands.
Katsuki eased up on her swollen clit a little, slowing down to lick around it and ease his tongue into her. It was becoming harder and harder to think. As soon as he began to muster a thought, the thrust of Deku’s cock into his body drove it out again. Uraraka’s scent was in his mouth, his nose, her slick all over his face. He couldn’t escape either of them, no matter what he tried. They were always invading his space, his thoughts—barging in where they weren’t wanted, demanding his time and attention, being fucking radiant and perfect and he hated it, he hated it.
He was burning up. Sweat was everywhere, he felt like he was dripping in it, melting. Like a bomb, primed to go off. Someone was making low, guttural noises and he realized that it was him, reduced to panting openmouthed against Uraraka’s cunt. Some time ago he had clenched his fists in the sheets, and they hurt. Everything hurt. His cock was dripping pre-come onto his stomach in a hot, sticky pool. He was so, so close.
“Deku,” he tried to say, but it came out a hoarse croak. “Deku,” he tried again. “Fucking—please.”
He wasn’t sure at first that Deku heard him, but then without breaking stride, Deku reached up and took hold of his cock. Katsuki almost came on the spot just from that, feeling Deku’s callouses and the thin ridges of his scars. But then Deku drove into him one last time, stroked Katsuki from root to tip, and then it was over. Katsuki may have yelled.
And then Deku kept going, even as Katsuki’s cock softened and went limp. Deku was still hard, driving into Katsuki with increasing intensity.
It was too much. It was all too much. Deku’s thrusts had gone from pleasurable to agonizingly sensitive. He closed his eyes, tried to breath. Uraraka still hadn’t had a second orgasm, and she deserved one of those. He nosed along the crease of her thigh leaving tiny nibbling bites. She liked that, judging by the way she pulled on his hair, and Katsuki thought, quite distinctly, ”Fuck it.” He probably wasn’t going to get a second chance at this. He could at least make sure nobody involved was going to be able to forget this in a hurry.
He bit down, hard, on Uraraka’s inner thigh, worrying at the mark till it stood out vivid red on her smooth skin. He’d been dreaming about those thighs. Deku was close now, thrusts frantic and uncontrolled, jolting Katsuki’s spine uncomfortably. He managed to lick upward to Uraraka’s clit and stayed there till she was coming again, shuddering around him. Deku wasn’t long after her. He drove into Katsuki once, twice, three more times.
“Kacchan,” he said in a strangled voice, and then came.
There was a moment of silence as everyone caught their breath.
“Wow,” said Uraraka breathlessly, and climbed off Katsuki, collapsing next to him in a sticky heap. “My legs feel like jelly.”
Deku released his vise grip on Katsuki’s hips and began to pull out.
“Ow,” said Katsuki, and Deku winced.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said, and eased the rest of the way out before stripping off the condom and throwing it out. Then he too stumbled to the bed and flopped on it. Katsuki stretched out his legs, pins and needles in his feet as blood flow began to return. He felt like he had just gone up against ten villains, but in a good way.
“Hey Deku-kun, can you go start the shower?” asked Uraraka. She was idly resting a hand on Katsuki’s chest, and it was making his heart do uncomfortable flippy things. Because Deku was Deku, he didn’t even complain, just struggled up and made his wobbly way into the bathroom.
After a moment, they heard the spray of water, and Uraraka sighed and sat up.
“You coming, Bakugo-kun?” she asked.
Katsuki briefly contemplated escaping to his room before things got awkward, but he was covered in sweat and dried cum and the thought of a shower was deeply enticing. Instead he heaved himself up and followed Uraraka into the bathroom. Deku had the shower running and was soaping off, water sluicing down his back muscles and over his bare ass. Katsuki stopped to appreciate it, because god damn. Uraraka stopped beside him, and after a moment he realized she was doing the same.
She caught his eye and winked.
"Hey, Deku-kun, make room," she called, wiggling out of her bra and tossing it on the floor.
Deku and Uraraka were very tactile people. He hadn't noticed before. Deku kept a hand on him the whole time, migrating from his bicep to his hip to his waist and back up in quick, casual touches. Uraraka insisted on washing his back. They had him slotted between them like a puzzle piece, like he actually belonged there.
His eyes burned. Just soap in the them, that was all.
“Hey, Deku,” he said. Deku looked up, and Katsuki moved in, kissing him long and slow and thorough. When he pulled back, Deku was staring at him wide-eyed. To avoid his gaze, Katsuki turned to Uraraka and pulled her in as well, pouring six months worth of frustration into the kiss. It was easier than he’d thought, with the water pouring down around them, making a cocoon of hot air and steam.
But Uraraka was as cheap about the water bill as she was about everything else, and eventually she hustled them out into towels and pajamas.
"Okay," thought Katsuki. "Now I'm going to go." But instead he found himself in the middle of a Deku and Uraraka sandwich on Uraraka’s shitty bed. It was cramped and way too hot, but somehow Uraraka had wiggled under his arm and Deku was basically spooning him, so he couldn’t really move. And he was so tired. It would be so easy to just fall asleep…
Katsuki woke up feeling really fucking great, and it took him a moment to remember why. He lay there in Uraraka's empty bed with sunlight pouring through the windows and savored it. His cheek was still warm, like a fading sunburn. When he checked under the waistband of his boxers he could see dark finger-shaped bruises on his hips and, when he gently probed further down, his asshole was still puffy and tender.
He stretched out luxuriantly, all the way down to his toes. There was nothing quite like being good and truly well-fucked. He had needed that. He’d been way too stressed lately. In the light of day, his behavior of the last few weeks seemed silly. He probably just hadn’t gotten laid recently enough.
Mind made up, he swung his legs off the bed and headed for the kitchen. Deku and Uraraka were already up, like he’d expected, but he hadn’t expected them to be making out against the kitchen counter.
His stomach dropped down to his knees.
“Be cool,” he thought to himself viciously. “You literally just decided this shouldn’t be an issue anymore.”
He took a deep breath, stomped his way over to the fridge, and banged the door open. Startled, Deku and Uraraka sprang apart.
“O-oh!” said Deku. “Good morning, Kacchan!” He sounded ridiculously peppy, like he was actually glad to see Katsuki.
“Morning,” said Katsuki, snagging a bottle of milk. He didn’t look at either of them.
“There’s rice and miso soup if you want any,” chirped Uraraka.
Katsuki grunted his assent.
“Oh, yeah, we were thinking of going out for drinks after work today, do you want to come with?”
Okay, Katsuki had reached his limit on being cool. He spun around.
"Quit it," he said roughly. "Just quit it! We fucked once, okay? You don't need to do all—" he waved a hand "—this just cause you feel sorry for me. I'm not your boyfriend."
They both stared at him, looking inexplicably hurt.
"Oh," said Uraraka. "Well, um, we were kind of hoping you might be."
"Might be what?" demanded Katsuki.
She glanced meaningfully at Deku, and nudged him in the side.
"Er," he said, ducking his head sheepishly. "Our boyfriend?"
"Bull shit," he said finally. "What are you talking about?" A thought occurred to him. “Is this a prank? Did someone put you up to this?” Shit. “Was is Kirishima?” Kirishima was a busybody with no personal boundaries, but Katsuki never thought he was mean. Even as he asked he knew the answer. All of them were too fucking kind-hearted for something like that.
Uraraka gave him a look that usually meant “you’re being stupid”.
“No, it’s because we like you, Bakugo-kun,” she said slowly.
She said it in the same tone of voice she had once told him to start being friends with Deku again. Like it was easy. Like it was obvious.
“Kacchan,” said Deku. “Do we really seem like we would, you know, sleep with someone we didn’t care about? It’s not like we make a habit of this.”
No, he didn’t really think that. They were both sappy idiots like that.
“We would have said something sooner, but we thought you weren’t interested,” said Uraraka. “But you are, aren’t you?”
They had slowly moved in on him, and were close enough to touch now. Katsuki stared at the floor. He felt dangerously bare and vulnerable, even more than last night when he had actually been bare and vulnerable.
“I don’t do romantic shit,” he said finally. “If you expect flowers, you’re out of luck.”
When he risked a glance up, Uraraka and Deku were exchanging a look heavy with fondness and exasperation, and all of a sudden, Katsuki believed them.
“We know,” said Deku tolerantly. His hand had somehow found his way to Bakugo’s hip again.
“And you should replace your mattress,” he continued. “It fucking sucks.”
“Eh?” said Uraraka. “But it was such a good deal!” She slid in under his arm, leaning against him like a particularly friendly dog.
“No it wasn’t,” said Katsuki. “I can hear every movement you make through the wall.” He hesitated, then took the plunge. “I’ll split the cost of a new one with you.” And then, in case it wasn’t clear. “A bigger one.”
As Uraraka twined a hand in his t-shirt and pulled him down into a kiss, Katsuki thought that maybe his life wasn’t so bad after all.