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The League of Villains had a most wanted list, after All Might who reigned undefeated for years, came Katsuki in second place. Super. Being a hostage wasn’t all that bad if you didn’t mind being chained, prodded endlessly with the same questions, little to no light, no TV, enough food to keep your body from consuming itself, and the occasional fist to the gut when you thought of a very clever retort to one of their questions—then it was a breeze. Cakewalk. But Katsuki was difficult by nature and the last time anyone dolled him up in silver bracelets, he went livid.

So, same result here.

Edward Too-many-hands dropped back in again. Katsuki thought he resembled Jack Skeleton except with skin and hair and no musical talent. He’d learned that when Tomura sat in a chair and asked him again to join their club.

Tomura had gone on and on about All Might and how they’re not the bad guys in this equation, and these heroes do what they do for...hey anyone else feeling sleepy as fuck from this asshole’s monologue.

Katsuki’d interrupted. “Hey, sing me ‘Halloween Town’, Edward.”

“Maybe I’ll just have Nomu break your legs,” he raged, disintegrating the chair with the touch of his fingers.

Katsuki wondered if the reason this guy was so mad at the world had to do with his quirk, like how could he even jerk off with that shit? Man, that would turn any guy into a villain.

“So that a no, then? Pussy.”

The door closed behind Tomura and Kurogiri. Well, better than Dabi or Himiko, Katsuki thought.

Tomura asked as he sat down. “Join me.”

“God, fuck off. And can I get some fucking real food if you guys bring me fried chicken again, I’m blowing us all up. Got that? And I want a TV. Fucking staring at the god damn wall, you want me to go mental in here?”

Kurogiri clicked his tongue; did gases have those things? “You will be here a long time, Bakugou.”

“Or until All Might beats your asses. Again. That was fun, remember, ass handed by kids. You’re all a fucking joke.

Tomura clenched his hands. “’All Might this. All Might that. You know he’s not that good of a hero.”

“You bitch a lot. Is it cause you can’t jerk your dick?”

Katsuki didn’t flinch at the chair thrown into the wall behind him, but his body tightened with a curl of fear as Tomura approached, hand raised to engulf Katsuki’s face if he felt inclined to.

“Tomura,” Kurogiri warned. “He is to be unharmed.”

“This punk has done nothing but mock us. He’s not going to join us so why bother letting him stay around? One less enemy, right?”

“Don’t act against him.”

“Fine. Bring me a Nomu”

“That’s not—.”

“I don’t think I asked your opinion, bring one now.”








Blood stained his teeth as he laughed. “Pussy,” he jeered at Tomura, who watched behind Nomu with thinly concealed frustration. “Your stupid pet projects hit like a bitch.”

“Hit him again. Harder,” Tomura growled.

Air whooshed out his mouth and for one terrifying instant, Katsuki thought the fist to his stomach would collapse all his bones.

“Still not enough?” he asked, satisfied when Katsuki’s body started to shiver involuntarily from the harsh beating.

Katsuki lifted his head, red eyes crinkled in pain and blonde bangs soaked and falling limp with blood and sweat. He spat blood at Tomura’s feet, peeled his busted lips into that arrogant smirk, and ignored the pain that caused. “Not. Even. Close.”


Katsuki braced for it, flexing the muscles of his stomach to minimize the impact.

Think of Izuku.

Think of Shouto.

Think of anywhere but here.







Yea, Izuku and Shouto? They’re an item and yes, the entire class of 1-A were just as astonished by the news when the three of them sat together at lunch and didn’t immediately throw the planets out of alignment. All sound escaped the cafeteria. All movement ceased for one frozen second before the world moved on.

Eyes watched them, glancing curiously, because even the other classes knew all about class A-1 and the triple threat that was Katsuki, Shouto, and Izuku. Izuku nearly shattered himself for Shouto. Katsuki had almost beaten Shouto to cosmic dust if Lady Midnight didn’t run interference.  Obliviously, they didn’t leave anyone with the idea there was longing brewing under their competitiveness. 

 Eijirou asked him during class after Aizawa paired up the class into groups of two, “You and them?”

“Yea, problem?” Katsuki challenged, protective of his boyfriends. Say what you will about Katsuki but Izuku and Shouto were off limits.

“No. It’s just…” Eijirou lowered his head as Aizawa made rounds around the classroom and pretended to be engaged with the reading material. “You guys were always competing and everything and well, you know,” he whispered.

“We’re still competing. Just cause we fuck and shit, don’t mean I’m letting their punk asses beat me. I’m gonna be the top earner in our relationship, they can have second and third place.”

Eijirou blinked, eyes lighting up with realization. “Wow.”


“Nothing,” he said with a giggle. “I didn’t think you were good with dating but you’re with two guys—“

“Why wouldn’t I be good at dating? The fuck you implying—“

Metal scraped the floor as Eijirou scooted in his chair. Aizawa opened his eyes at his desk, observing before he fell back to sleep. “So, think you can help me ask Mina out?” Affection filled Eijirou’s eyes as he looked to Mina, who thumped her head on the table in response to the assignment. “ I’ve been mad crushing but every time we talk I get super flustered.”

Katsuki clicked his pen, eyes seeking Izuku and Shouto without permission where they worked over the assignment   Izuku whipped out his highlighter, the cap popping loudly that he flushed at interrupted tombstone silence.  A half smile pulled at Shouto’s small lips.


Such a nerds.

Highlighting crap.

He didn’t know what he did to deserve these two nerds.

“Ugh. Fine,” he agreed under Eijirou’s puppy dog eyes. “But only because I am the king of sex and everything.”

“I’m going to call you Mr. Hitch. Like from that movie with Will Smith.”

“Hell no. Don’t.”







“People think we’re weird together,” Katsuki said two months after they started dating.

Shouto dipped his hand in the bowl, coming away with glossy fingers and buttered popcorn. “I think we’re weird with you.”

With master precision, popcorn bounced off Shouto’s slim nose. “Hey, fuck you.”

“Ah, there’s that winning personality. Romance me, Katsuki.”

“You shitty two-toned prick,” Katsuki purred, crawling predatorily between Shouto’s thighs after handing off the bowl to Izuku. For his previous shit talking, you would think Shouto had some immunity built up against Katsuki but he didn’t. His breath slowed when Katsuki settled over his body and situated himself bodily between his thighs.

“Katsuki,” he groaned.

“That’s what I fucking thought,” he laughed, tracing Shouto’s jaw.

“Come on, guys,” Izuku huffed.  “You always do this. First, its play fighting, then it’s making out, and then everyone’s naked and we’re missing the movie.”

Katsuki pressed a bite under Shouto’s jaw working him good as he talked. Hands of ice and fire locked on his hips, fingers fanning hesitantly to the swell of his ass. “So?”

“I want us to finish the movie together. Do you know this is our fifth time watching ‘Interception’?”

Katsuki smacked his lips to that, considering Izuku’s argument, then countered with hum. “But have you seen Shouto’s dick?”

Izuku made the cross with his fingers, cowering away in fear. Not a soul could resist Shouto’s naked body. One peep and boom, snatched completely by the man. “Do not try to sway me!”

Chin in hand, Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Shouto, take your dick out and convince him.”

“I’m not a dog,” Shouto complained.

“Take it out.”

He groaned, unzipping his pants lazily ,  “Fine.”

“Shouto!” Izuku shielded his eyes as he laughed. “Don’t obey him.”

“But he’s so good at dick sucking,” he said,  with a pathetic expression of want.

“…Okay. Point, but still.”

“Spoiler, he’s still in the dream,” Katsuki barked, climbing off of Shouto.

“You monster, how could you ruin the ending for me?”

“That’s not right. The ending is open,” Shouto corrected.

“So we’re gonna have a debate huh? Fine, first, fuck you. You’re wrong.” To the outside world, the trade of insults failed to sell the image of a happy couple, that Katsuki didn’t really care for Izuku and Shouto, but he didn’t need the world to believe him. As long as they did, fuck it.

In Shouto’s mismatched eyes there sat that belief, that fondness for Katsuki’s rash speech and crude behavior. “Hmm, interesting. This is my counter to that. Your head is up your ass.”

“Wait, what’s the ending?” piped Izuku from the floor, mossy eyes looking up as he tipped his head back between the part of Katsuki’s legs. 

Katsuki folded over him, a hand at Izuku’s chin to keep him in place, and kissed his soft lips. “Watch the movie.”

“You—that’s what I’m trying to do, Kacchan! No,no, don’t kiss me. I’m trying to—ah, crap. Katsuki.”

Katsuki wormed his mouth apart, breathing heavy down his throat. “Can’t fucking control myself around you, Deku. Cute little shit.”

“Kacchan,” Izuku moaned, the bones in his body liquefied under Katsuki’s slippery tongue and large hands.

This guy.

This one guy, through thick and thin, through the years, through the good and bad, had stuck to Katsuki’s side whenever. Needed or not. Warranted or not. Deserving of it or not. Izuku Midoriya was one of those oddities given to the world. Show him pain and this guy showed you a smile. Show his heartache and he introduced laughter. Tell him he couldn’t be a thing, being a quirkless dude, and he ate your words with tears and hit the books harder. Hit the weights. Returned like an unsanctioned bomb.

Yea..he didn’t know what he did to get someone like Izuku and Shouto, but fuck, he would enjoy every minute. Take Izuku’s smiles. Take Shouto’s uncertain hands. Kiss them reckless for people to see.  Compete with them in school to be the best out there, then walk them back home after.

“Now who’s the one ruining movie time?” Shouto smirked, voice near and that was because he abandoned the premise of movie night too and molded himself to Izuku’s side, mouthing the freckles on his neck.

“Guys,” Izuku whined. “The movie.”

“Next time,” Katsuki promised. “I swear.”

Shouto breathed out a chuckle. “Not likely.”

“Well, excuse me, but you’re both fucking cute and I don’t say no to cute guys.”








The wail of the door hinges shattered the serenity of his dream. It was a good one too, Shouto and Izuku under the covers with him, both fucked up and snuggled to every part of Katsuki—Izuku, tiny and compact; Shouto, lean and tall. The counterweight to Katsuki’s bulky mass. He was trading kisses between them in it, always hungry, always touching. Didn’t take himself for a touchy-feely person but, recent developments have disproven that fact.

God, he ached for that. For hands, smiles, constant texts, the freedom given to you when you had someone like that in your life—someone you could run to without prior notice. Katsuki wanted that. To dip and find Izuku and Shouto and stop being with them.

Today, it was Kurogiri in the chair with his ironed black slacks and white button-up shirt. He crossed his legs, gentlemanly.  “Hello, Bakugou. I’m here to talk to you and I hope you’re willing to listen to our offer once more. Our message to society is not what you think—”

Katsuki squinted. “Why the fuck do you even wear clothes? Is your cock all smoky too? That’s gotta fucking suck.”

Emotions were tricky to decipher on Kurogiri, but his voice sounded tight and measured for control. “This is an opportunity,” he continued.

“Hey,” he rasped, speech impaired from the lack of sleep and the over use of his vocal chords. “Gas man. Fuck off.”

“You’re only making this harder on yourself, Bakugou,” he advised.

Ha, advice from gas. Man these guys were the like the rejected Legion of Doom

“Look, man, I can’t take gas seriously. Bring Himiko, at least I can look at something decent while listening to this bullshit.”

Kurogiri sighed, uncrossed his legs with an odd grace.  Yellow eyes regarded him with sympathy. “Tomura will be angry to hear you’re acting up.”

“Like he’s my dad,” Katsuki scoffed. “Fuck him too.”

“I have no choice then.”

“Yea, bet you’re all choked up about it too. Beating up a fucking kid. Bring Nomu, hopefully you upgraded your shit projects.”

Knock, knock. The hinges creaked. A Goliath mass moved through the doorway, swallowed in hard shadows from the light behind it. A new Nomu; not much of a variety given to them. All ugly, deformed creatures.

“Leave him in one piece,” Kurogiri instructed, then walked out the door.

Katsuki cracked his neck side to side, copper eyes furious under his lashes.

Fucking bring it, punk.

Nomu chambered a hook and unleashed it, delivering it square into Katsuki’s gut.






“I should’ve been there,” Katsuki said.

Shouto lifted his head up from where he had laid on Izuku’s head. The TV droned on and painted blue light on their skins. Their internships ended a day ago and Katsuki learned the truth about who defeated the Hero Killer. While Best Jeanist was playing The Devil Wears Prada on him, Shouto and Izuku were fighting against a notorious villain with a body count.

They could’ve died, and Katsuki would have been too far to do shit about it but wonder why Izuku was a magnet for danger, why Shouto’s cool , calculated nature failed him this one time where he never failed before. Wondered the difference he would’ve made.

“Stop,” Shouto whispered, caressing away his self-loathing. “You couldn’t have known. No one did.”

He switched his sights to the screen. The arm around Izuku tightened, communicating his frustration at being so devoted to two heroes in training, and Izuku shifted in his sleep, leaned his strong body on Katsuki’s chest like it was a pillow.

That…that really fucking hurt.

Feelings and shit.

Like Katsuki expected things to stay in the comfortable realm of ‘emotion free’ with video games, wet kisses, and wetter blowjobs and hot anal but, it rapidly changed tracks into this place…this area Katsuki never navigated.

How the hell did you date a hero, really?

“Well, you two could’ve died,” he said, furious when his eyes started to sting a little with his words.

“That’s how being a hero works,” Shouto smoothed Katsuki’s shoulder.

“Are we fucking dumb to be doing this shit?”

“I think so, but I don’t care.” Katsuki turned his head fast at that.  “Do you want to stop…stop us?”

“No. Fuck. I just want. I fucking just want you assholes to be C list heroes who fucking monitor the mall or something. Not heroes with the biggest target on your backs.”

“You know it’s the same for us, right? We worry about you too.”

Katsuki made a sour face, gesturing aggressively. “What?”

“You make enemies,” Shouto explained.

Were they really going to discuss his less than spectacular rep with uh, people, because Jean dude educated Katsuki thoroughly on his ineptitude in that area and paraded his ass with tight ass jeans that strangle Bakugou number two.

“Oh, wow, thanks,” Katsuki grumbled, then reverted back to glaring at the TV.

“And you’re powerful and beautiful,” he added.

“…What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

“You don’t think we worry about villains wanting to harm you?” Shouto pressed, voice actually hard with fury too. “That a random stranger might just shoot you out of jealousy.”

“If you think some quirkless dickhead can off me—“

“No. I know how strong you are but I worry. Izuku worries. We have as much to lose as you do.”

And, okay, Katsuki stared, speechless. They were all hitting new uncharted grounds here, they were all scared for one another, they were all feeling more than they expected.

“New rule, you guys can’t fucking die or whatever. Okay? I don’t care. Don’t be shitty and die or I’ll beat your ass or something.”

“Seems fair,” Shouto chuckled, dipping his fingers under his shirt to rub circles into his skin. “That rule applies to you too.”

“Pfft, like my ass is dying. Bitch please.”

“There’s my Katsuki, all pride and no brain.”

“You’re lucky I like your massive dick,” Katsuki lied.

Shouto knew, fingers tapping Katsuki under the chin to bridge their mouths over Izuku. “I am lucky.”

“Ugh, don’t rom me,” he complained, breathing unstable as Shouto moved his mouth against his sensual and languid. His kisses were always so trained, skilled, refined as Shouto’s abilities; like he crossed the stage in a cap and gown to take his PH.D in kissing boys.

When their lips part, Katsuki went back at it, chasing with soft moans and shaking at the thick look of want in Shouto’s eyes. The I want you, I like you, you’re my headache to worry about.

The snuggle monster on his chest nuzzled deeper. And fuck, Katsuki could make explosion with his hands and everything on command but there was a catastrophic one raging inside his heart because it—

It felt real good…to know these guys were in on it too. Were crazy about Katsuki, bad habits and all.

They watched Food Network until their eyelids drooped and Katsuki’s mother walked in the living room at three a.m. to see three guys doing their best to cram in their wide, bulky bodies on one small sofa. After a few pictures for future chances to bust Katsuki’s balls, she clicked off the TV and draped a blanket over them.








“They won’t find you so, better to give up.” Emo night is every night told him after he flipped the chair and straddled it backward.

Himiko, who Katsuki dubbed as the fucked up version of Brittany Spears’  schoolgirl costume, poked his cheek. It stung, probably one mother of a bruise there where Nomu laid into him. “Has anyone told you that you have great skin? Cause you do.”

God, they’re worse than spam ads. No, I do not want to enlarge my penis. And no, I don’t want a Russian bride, I just wanted to watch shows illegally online.

Katsuki forced his sleep-heavy eyes wide, passed over a dull look and said. “Has anyone told you you’re fucking psychos?”

“I would drop the act,” Dabi said.  “Your school’s having a tough time looking for you.”

Fuck, thank god.

He just had to hold out for All Might. Not that he liked being in any position that required someone else to tag in and do the heavy work but, fuck it, Katsuki was exhausted, beaten, hungry, sick of the chains, sick of seeing Izuku and Shouto in his mind. He could admit that much to himself. Yea, Katsuki had a lot of pride and too much arrogance, but he had limits. Fuck, he was a guy under all this bullshit too.

Katsuki smirked, fake, dipped in exhaustion, but All Might smiled through the worst of everything and Katsuki could too. “Fucking swear every time I look at you, you remind me of My Chemical Romance.”

“Oh my god, “ Himiko started to laugh until Dabi glared.

“I’ll let Tomura know.”

“Yea, go tell Edward Too-many-hands to fuck himself.”

“Bad move, kid.”

Katsuki went back to sleep.

Whatever, Nomu would wake him up to kick his ass again.

Except when the foundation of the building rumbled, and the cement shivered, and Katsuki felt he was in a twisted version of a carnival ride, the voice waking him was raucous and booming.

“Young Bakugou, no need to worry. I am here,” All Might said, crushing the metal chains in his hands.

Katsuki laughed, dry. “About time, man.”






It wasn’t an easy escape. Katsuki was thrown through enough portals to make him seasick. The property damage went up to the billions, and there were so many pros jumping in and out of battle. All for One revealed himself and so did All Might, who was a tall lanky man beneath it all.

A twig who fought countless villains, who saved hundreds, and touched millions.

The world cheered for each successful smash, for each punishing blow, for each time All Might beat back the danger of the world on everyone’s behalf.

Eijirou carried his broken body as they watched it all.






He woke up to a packed room in a hospital and this would be where Katsuki smirked, proud and big, and wake everyone up to call them a bunch of losers for camping in his room like it was the day release of a new iPhone, except his heart ached at the bodies stuffed anywhere and everywhere that could accommodate one. All these losers…they’re here for Katsuki. Him. The guy everyone had no issue calling an asshole or too villainous for the hero academy.

They’re in his room, too frightened to go home and wait in a legitimate bed.

Shouto and Izuku curled in a loveseat at the side of his bed. Izuku’s scarred dumb hands threaded in the sheets made him awful. Awful, awful, with a stuttering heart and fuck, heat behind his eyes. These stupid assholes. They’re back where he could touch them, hold them, kiss them, watch their faces fall back into that expression of fond annoyance.

Fuck, he’d worried. Thought maybe, he would stay in those chains forever. Feared he wouldn’t get them again.

Reached for that scarred hand, twined his shaking fingers with those limp ones and just held on. Held on against the fucking wave of gratitude, the wave of guilt, the wave of self-loathing—if I’ve had been stronger, if I’ve had been wiser, if I could’ve kept my end of the bargain.

If, if, if.

“Kacchan,” Izuku mumbled, squinting as he looked at Katsuki in the warm morning light. “Kacchan,” he said, again, wet.

“Hey, nerd,” his voice rasped in the quiet room.

“Baby,” Izuku cried softly so not to disrupt everyone. Fat tears rolled. His lips quivered awful around his speech. He wasn’t a mess yet, but he was getting there.  “There you are, baby.”

“I’m back.”

Shouto opened his eyes, dozy. “Katsuki,” he said, overlapping his hand over their joined fingers as he sat on the edge of the hospital bed. 

He turned his head, looked at that magnificent motherfucker with his weird hair and weirder eyes. “Sup, Half n Half.”

The glare of the sun bounced light off the wetness in Shouto’s eyes. “There he is. There’s my Katsuki.”

It was really unfair to gloat at their broken face but…“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you guys missed me.”

Izuku lowered his head to their hands and sobbed, closing his fingers tight on Katsuki like he might float away. “I’m sorry, Kacchan. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey,” he called, using his other hand to rub Izuku behind his ears. It made him putty in bed, now it served as an accelerator to his tears.  Shit, shit. “Shut up, okay, don’t cry. I feel like such an asshole whenever you cry, Deku.”

“I’m sorry,” Izuku whimpered, still crying, still breaking Katsuki up like cardboard boxes. “Recovery Girl healed you, and she t-told us that they…You had three bro-broken—“

“Only three? C’mon, Deku, you’ve broken how many bones? Ain’t no thing,” Katsuki played off. Well, that explained the incredible searing pain.

Izuku fucking glared back at him. “Don’t. It’s not the same. They tort—“

He had nothing to fight his reaction to the word; torture. Flinched. God, it made him sound like the victim. Helpless. Not a damn hero he was training his ass off to be.

Shouto cut in, sensing the shift, and soothed their emotional boyfriend. “Izuku. It’s okay.”

“You saw—“

“I know. But let’s not talk about that, okay?”

Eijirou yawned, cozy up with Mina against the wall. “Katsuki?”

“Hey, asshole.”

He rewrapped his jacket around Mina before he got up and went over. “Buddy, thought we lost you for a bit.”

“Shit, you think Imma let you assholes graduate at the top of the class? Hell no.”

Eijirou sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Missed you, man.”

“Yea, yea.” He waved it off.

Hands in his pocket, Eijirou asked. “You want anything to eat?”

“Dude,” Katsuki started, releasing the painful grip Izuku had on him and made the hold of a hamburger. “Fucking get me a Big Mac. Fries. Give me high cholesterol.”








Yagi asked. “Will he be alright?”

“Physically, yes.” Recovery Girl turned in her chair with a sigh. “Bakugou will need a few days before he could go back to training but I’m not concerned about his physical wellbeing.”

Aizawa tapped the desk absentmindedly, then said. “You mean his mental health.”

“I don’t have the details of what went on over there but the trauma on his body speaks for itself. I would advise you keep a close eye on him.”

“You can’t speak to him about it?” Yagi suggested.

“My area of expertise isn’t in that. I do have contact with professionals but—“

“If we force Bakugou to see a shrink, he’ll go ballistic,” Aizawa answered for him. “He has too much pride. Chances are, he will even deny needing help. It’s better to watch him for now and see how it plays out.”

Yagi looked to his hands. “If we had been more careful—“

“There’s no point in beating yourself up. Our job now is to get the students back to normal. Or as normal as they can get now…why the fuck is my class the one getting into all this shit? Fucking too old for this.”

“Alright, Roger Murtaugh.”

“Was that a fucking ‘Lethal Weapon’ reference, you ass?”









“Hey asshole, good job getting kidnapped,” his mother said, ruffling Katsuki’s greasy hair.

 A shower was the first thing getting taken care of when the hospital deemed him fit to leave. For now, he had greasy hair and skin and little wiggle room for cuddles on the bed and nurses bursting into his room to check on his condition.

“Mother of the fucking year here,” he barked back, seriously thrilled to hear her boisterous voice again wreaking havoc on his eardrums.

The nurse looked uneasy but Shouto and Izuku laughed. It was a strange relationship. It didn’t lack any love though; his mother was just as poorly trained with emotions as him. Shit, where did you think he got it from?

His dad clapped his shoulder and wiggled Katsuki. “I think they made your ego bigger.”

“Yes. I’m the fucking IT hero. You all should be kissing my ass.”

His mother pinched his cheek. “What are you talking about, I still wash your underwear. You can talk big when you don’t pee on the seat.”


Izuku fell into Shouto, giggling with food in his mouth. “Oh my god, I’m glad I’m not the only one who noticed.”

“Well, I just wipe the seat down after he uses it as a precaution now,” Shouto said, eating a fry. “Twice. I sat in it.”

“See, even your boyfriends agree you can’t aim for shit,” his mom laughed.

“Nurse, call security. Have these assholes remove.”

The nurse gave a halfhearted laugh, hoping it was a joke.







His mother turned in the seat, glancing at Katsuki in the backseat. “Home?”

“Yea,” he said and relaxed with the sound of traffic whizzing outside the window, the sunlight getting in his vision and blinding him, the talk host on the radio going over the epic face-off between All Might and All for One.

Something rolled in him at the mention—the seatbelt suddenly felt constricting like chains, cuffs; the shit they used to trap in him and keep him from using his quirk.

Then, he was remembering the pain of Nomu’s large fist, the dead look in its eyes as it hit him without any awareness. Without remorse for his pained grunts.

His mother shattered the cycle of memories when she laid on the horn and flipped off a driver. “Fucking, dumbass. Use your signal.”

“Sweetheart,” his dad laughed as he smoothed his mother’s hand over the console. “Try not to get into a brawl.”

She huffed, not easy to relinquish her anger. “Dumbasses should use their signal that’s all I’m saying.”

“Oh lord.” He smiled. Crazy fool loved his mom, short temper or not, he loved her to bits and pieces and put on the cheesiest smile whenever her anger got the better of her and aided her back down.

Katsuki inhaled. Felt like the first breath he was given in centuries and squeezed his eyes shut.

You’re good, man.

You’re good.

Don’t fucking worry.






It started off like that; little shit spiked awful memories and they worked like dominos, falling on another memory then another until he couldn’t remember which world was his current reality, and which was the memory.

Whatever, in a week it would be old news and Katsuki would be back to it.







“Welcome back, punks. Since you all like making my job extra difficult we’re going to have a nice day of training. If I see so much as a villain or some heroic deed, I’m giving you all detention until the end of the year. I want one weekend where I’m not filing reports out my ass, okay?” Aizawa warned, tried eyes sweeping over his class before he settled on the three culprits of this exciting school year. “Bakugou, Todoroki, and Midoriya, I’m looking at you three.”

“The fuck man, I didn’t ask to be kidnapped!”

Izuku lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Aizawa.”

Shouto, deeply engrossed in the book he had hidden in his lap, looked up with confusion as to why he was receiving a heated glare from Aizawa. “Did something happen?”

“Hey, they’re like the Harry Potter of U.A,” Eijirou observed.

Katsuki ripped a page out of his notebook and spiraled it at Eijirou’s head. “Fuck you.”

“Bakugou, don’t waste paper like that,” Tenya scolded. “Think of our planet. Now please, place it in the recyclable container.”

“I was going to but now that you opened your mouth, I won’t.”

Ochako shook her head, internally dying as Tenya prattled on loud and stern about the earth’s current delicate state. “Oh my god, Tenya, please stop.”

“Kacchan,” Izuku hissed at the back of  Katsuki’s head and Katsuki figured the best response to the scolding was to recline back and hike his legs up on his desk, whistling immaturely.  “Shouto, a little help here,” he requested reinforcement.

“Aw, let him act out a bit. I missed it. You go on and be bad, Katsuki.”

Denki cringed. “That came out very sensual.”

Aizawa looked around the room for a ruler, found it, and tested a strike to the desk. All the students broke out of their side conversations, some screaming at the sudden sound. “I swear to—do you guys want a 15-page assignment cause I’ll gladly hand you one and we can sit in here quietly and write. Or you can shut up, get on the bus, and learn to be a hero.”

Mina said, loud among the petrified students. “Oh shit, he snapped.”






School resumed. They’re back at it with assignments, exams, and training. U.A. made the announcement to implement a boarding school, so that was something to look forward too. Shouto’s place was a firm NO on any couple activity. And Izuku’s place had thin walls and a generous mother, who made several appearances to his room whenever they came over. There was something wrong about sucking off Izuku one minute then plopping a pillow over his groin when Inko knocked politely on the door with the offer of home-baked cookies.

Plus, he wouldn’t have to worry about his parents waking up to his night terrors.

Yea…apparently being kidnapped and sort of tortured for a few days fucked with your mental state. So far, he had been lucky enough to wake up without screaming in the middle of the night.

He didn’t tell Izuku or Shouto. It was shitty memories, they would pass once his brain got it shit together and man the fuck up.

He woke up again in a cold sweat, heart so loud and pounding in his ears he believed he lost his ability to hear. It settled, eventually. His body reset itself to default settings. Couldn’t say the same for his mind that played the classic memories of Nomus taking to him like a punching bag, of his bones snapping like dry twigs, of the dark room devoid of stimulation, of Tomura’s paper thin face and dried eyes hovering over him with his hand raised.

Katsuki looked at his phone.

Izuku would run over if he sent a text.

Shouto would face-time him regardless of the late hour and his overbearing father.

He scrubbed his face viciously.

Memories, dude.

Get the fuck over it.


He didn’t go to sleep, too worried if he did that he would slip back into another memory and never come out.







The sleepless nights were getting to him. He fired an explosion too late and ate shit from Eijirou’s hardened fist and sailed across the practice grounds until the momentum slowed.

“Kacchan!” Izuku shouted from the other side, a slow dot in the distance that was rapidly growing as he abandoned his spar match with Ochako and sprinted.

“Dude,” Eijirou looked over him with his hands hovering in hesitation. “Sorry. I thought you would’ve dodged that. Are you alright?”

“Fuckin’ fine,” Katsuki spat a wad of blood on the floor before he got his legs under him, and rose “Let’s go.”

“Kacchan,” Izuku breathed, cheeks an awful distressed red as he instantly bridged the distance and started running his hands over him for an injury. “Are you—“

Katsuki swatted his hands harshly and reestablished the distance. “Lay off. I’m fine. Go back to your shit, man.”

“Katsuki,” Shouto scolded, drawn in by the commotion too. The whole class seemed to take notice of their bickering and paused as they watched it unfold.  “Relax. We’re just concern.”

“Fuck, for the last time. I’m fine,” he snapped, then to the curious on-lookers. “Hey! Mind your god damn business.”

Hanta yelled back. “Chill, man.”

Shouto crossed his arms, not inept in the reading of Katsuki’s emotions. “Don’t give me that tone,” he said, determined to get to the crux of his problem.

“Then get off my cock, shit. I’m not fragile. I’m fucking fine. Don’t start treating me like some fucking weakling, okay? Cause I’m not fucking weak.”

Aizawa approached, bored voice neutralizing the mounting emotions that swelled between the three. “Midoriya and Todoroki, go back to your matches.” A look of protest crossed Izuku’s face until Shouto grabbed his arm and led him back to their sparring session. Aizawa pulled his hand out of his pocket, and pointed. “Bakugou, with me.”

He turned his back and started walking. “I’m not fucking going anywhere. Eijirou needs—“

“That was not a request,” his teacher said.  “Kirishima will pair off with Kaminari.”

Eijirou shrugged, whispered a pitiful apology, and then went off to spar with Denki.

Aizawa beckoned him over.

Once they were far from being overheard, Katsuki snipped icily. “If you’re going to talk shit about my relationship then don’t bother.”

“This is about you. What’s going on? You’re sleeping in class. You’re more hostile than usual. Despite what you think, you’ve made a lot of progress socially so I know this is not you being you. Talk.”

“I’m fine,” he gritted.

“What happened with the—“

“For fuck sake.” Katsuki paced away.

“Bakugou.” Aizawa watched him, from his heated pace, to the bruised colored bags below his eyes, to the untethered energy of frustration and anxiety buzzing under his skin. He could tell he was getting no sleep and trying to maintain the status quo even with his mind fighting him. “If whatever you’re experiencing is affecting your abilities to function as a student and as a hero in training then I will pull you out of class. Your mental health comes first.”

“You can’t fucking do that! I busted my ass off to get here and I’m not taking a god damn break for this dumb shit. There’s nothing wrong. I’m not fucking weak.”

Aizawa balled his hands in his pockets, a cold fury in his eyes as he scowled at Katsuki. “If you think dealing with the trauma of something like that is weak then you’re an idiot. It’s not weakness to be scared. Nor is it one to ask for help from others. Firemen have PTSD. Police too. The army. EMTs. Would you call those people weak?”

“I don’t have fucking PTSD.”

“Are you sleeping lately? Been irritable? Paranoid? Experiencing memories of the event asleep and awake? ”

“I—I. Shut the hell up.”

“Am I wrong?” He pressed again.

Katsuki glared. “Piss off.”

“I want you to see the school’s social worker.”

“No way. Fuck no.”

“Fine.” Aizawa shrugged and fished out his cell, fingers tapping through his contacts. “I’ll call your mother and tell her I’m pulling you out of U.A. until you get professional help.”

“What the fuck!”

“It’s your choice.”

“Goddamnit. Fine,” he huffed.  “I’ll go.”

“I’ll let her know then. And Bakugou,” Aizawa called as Katsuki dismissed himself from the conversation and stormed back to the grounds.  

He clenched his fingers, and regarded Aizawa with unconcealed heat. “I will be keeping tabs on this. I will know if you don’t show,” he warned.







“Can we talk now?”

“Well I know you won’t leave me alone. Where’s Deku?”

“Away, you know it hurts him even you treat him that way.”

“Fucking great,” he grumbled, guilt and remorse left an unsavory taste on his tongue. Their track record—ahem, Katsuki’s record, if he was being blunt—…look, for some time Katsuki was a grade-A douchebag to Izuku. Downright douchy. Bogus. King of Assery, but he was taking steps to make up for it, slow, clumsy steps. But steps, yea?

And it ate at him when he had Izuku asleep on his chest with the world quiet, because he was this close to burning the bridge between them. Izuku cared from day one, quirk unknown; he was Katsuki’s number one fan and friend. Sure, people praised him after his quirk developed before that Izuku cheered him on. Looked up at him like he painted the sun each morning. Called his dorky ass ‘Kacchan’.  Offered him the seat on the swings first. Gave Katsuki his All Might figure when Katsuki stupidly lost his on a trip. Cried with him when he fell off his bike and the skin from his shin to his knee blistered over with bits of gravel and rocks.

Maybe no one fucking believed he gave a shit about Izuku for real. Fine, don’t, as along as Izuku knew for an undeniable fact that Katsuki would give fucking anything to make him fucking happy.

So his instinct to repair the damage and take Izuku’s dumb face in his hands was an one so thickly threaded with clangor and intensity, that he had no stop button to racing for Izuku.

Shouto snatched his forearm. “No, stay. You’re both too emotional.”

“Oh and you’re not?”

“I care about you just as much so don’t try starting argument. You know what I mean, and if you think I’m stupid to not notice a difference between then and now then I’m seriously questioning your IQ. What is going on? What did Aizawa discuss with you?”

“You wanna know, fine, he thinks I have PS or something.”

“PTSD?” Shouto asked, the heat once fueling him quickly boiled away. “Katsuki…Have you been—this whole time? Why didn’t you come to us? If we had known—“

Katsuki slammed the cover of his book close, shoulder hitched high. “Because it’s fucking stupid, alright? It’s done. I’m done with it.”

“You can’t just shut your emotions down like that.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, stuffing his books ungracefully into his bag. “I have to see someone or he’s pulling me out.”

“That’s good though.”

Good to be fucked up over a few broken bones and purple bruises? All Might slammed his ass into a building and Katsuki got back up, put his hands behind himself and soared into the air, framed by smoke and yellow flames. But a few creepy people strung him up and his brain couldn’t handle it?

He shouldered the straps. “I feel fucking stupid.”

“You’re not, Katsuki. Nothing about this is dumb or silly, okay? It’s okay. You went through something that would break most people. You’re strong, Kacchan.”

“God,” he whined. “Deku’s got you saying that too.”

“Don’t shut us out. If it’s too hard to speak to us about it, I understand but don’t keep us in the dark. We…Katsuki, do you know how fucking scared I was when they took you? Do you know I regretted not telling you that I care, that I think you’re beautiful, that I’m grateful for you? Because all I did was think of the things I barely said cause of my own issues.”

“…You guys don’t need to worry about me.”

“You could eat raw cookie dough and I would be all over you.”

Katsuki cracked his knuckles, face downcasted. He asked, voice really damn small.  “Is Deku…mad at me?”

“No,” Shouto assured. “He still feels guilty, you know.”

“He’s stupid,” Katsuki mumbled.

Stupid, idiot. Always shouldering everything. Taking the weight of the world when he was still navigating the limits and lengths of his quirks.

“We all are.”

He shifted his feet, the rustle of his pants violent in the empty classroom. He met Shouto’s eyes for a second, then asked. “Do you think you can talk to him, see if he wants to see me?”

“He always wants to see you but I’ll text him for you.”

“Thanks.” Katsuki thumbed his nose.

“Come on.” Shouto shoulder bumping him got Katsuki to look up and fall in line with his steps out the room. “Let’s get some food. That’s the fastest way to cheer you two up.”







Izuku was at the door, looking as down as a unwanted pup. A encouraging nudge to his back prompted Katsuki to stop glaring at the floor and look at him.

“So, uh,”  He dropped it again, scrubbed the nape of his neck and displayed the DVD case.  Something lived in Izuku’s mossy eyes, something fucking too holy for him or anyone, and that holy shit extracted feelings of low worth out of him. Like touching the Mona Lisa with ungloved hands. “I thought we try finishing this. We didn’t get to last time.”

“Okay,” Izuku agreed.

Shouto gave him the rundown of the situation so the unwillingness to allow Katsuki stem from his silence on the subject.

“And, uh,” He searched for the word, waving his arm around loosely in the air like they might come into contact with him. Speeches were Izuku’s thing—insightful ones, romantic ones, inspiring ones; he could inspire so much out of people. Katsuki could inspire um, rage, sex, and animosity. Oh, fear too. “I’m sorry. Again. I just. Sorry. I fuck up a lot. I’ll try not to fuck up so much.”

“I like you, baby, and I’m gonna keep liking you no matter what.”

“Oh. I like you too.”

“And you’re not a fuck up. You’re my stubborn boyfriend who tries too hard to be all that and a bag of chips.”

Katsuki opened his mouth, breathed a mini laugh, kind of small and vulnerable. Every conversation with Izuku left him exposed and tender in the best and worst ways, a turtle without a shell. He met Izuku’s eyes and found nothing but compassion and warmth.

He didn’t say anything; the awesome thing about Izuku besides well, a lot of shit, was sometimes he didn’t have to say shit.

“But you don’t have to be,” he continued, out from the shield of his door. “You’re everything I need, good or bad.”

“Can you…just watch this with me? I wanna relax and shit.”

“Sure, baby. Take my hand.”

He did, and, fuck, that was the shit. That damn hand. The hand growing stronger, wiser, and kinder with each day. The hand that could lift you up on a bad day and bring down the roof

“I’m here too, Izuku,” Shouto commented behind, facetious.

“You be quiet over there,” Izuku joked, snapping Katsuki close to him to properly nuzzle and kiss his face.. “Today is Katsuki’s day.”

“Oh great,” Katsuki complained into his hair, totally thrilled at the easy acceptance and for the hands trying to push away all his faults.

“You love it, shut up.”






“Hello, Bakugou. I’m Dr. Kosaka,” the psychologist greeted. “Mr. Aizawa told me some of his concerns over your mental health.”

“Look, don’t bullshit me. You saw the news. You probably know the fucking deal.”

“I wouldn’t say a new source is a reliable way to get to the core of someone. I’ve worked with several heroes, Bakugou. Heroes who suffered from substance abuse, depression, PTSD,  and bipolar disorder. Despite evidence to the contrary, heroes aren’t immune to these things.”

“So what?” Katsuki snorted, dismissive of the whole psych blab bullshit. “I bitch about my problems and you give me happy pills.”

“No. You’re underage, if I felt you needed prescription drugs it would be at the consent of you and your parents. We don’t lock people up for being imperfect. All you have to do is talk to me and we can start from there. Whatever you’re willing to share.”

“And if I don’t feel like saying shit?” He asked.

“Then we can discuss something else,” she answered, smoothly, unruffled by his rash demeanor.

“I don’t believe in this shit.”

Dr. Kosaka settled in her leather chair, crossing her legs, face immeasurably patient. “Tell me what you do believe in.”







He didn’t really have faith in this shit but, it was good to get the shit out of his mind.

Dr. Kosaka listened.

Took notes.

Walked him through it carefully in his mind.

Kind of alleviated the compressing weight of his memories.

It didn’t fix shit in a day nor a week.

It was something though.

Therapy was one of those ‘one step at a time’ type of deals.

Remember, you’re not weak for feeling scared.

Remember, you’re not fragile.

Remember, you can improve.

Remember, Bakugou, it’s not about strength and power. You are not valued only by your quirk. You’re more than that.









He woke up from a nightmare, luckily Shouto and Izuku took it upon themselves to familiarize with the process of talking Katsuki out of memory.  He shook, crawling into Shouto’s arms while Izuku combed his hair and counted his breaths with him. What would have kept Katsuki in a state of panic and stress for hours lasted over one.

“Baby,” Izuku whispered. “You’re back.”

“I’m back,” he repeated. “Sorry. For my stupid brain.”

Shouto pinched his arm. “Hey, remember what we said, ‘there’s nothing wrong with your brain’…Alright, maybe you’re kinda—“ Katsuki slammed Shouto on his back.

“Still gonna talk shit?”

“No. Cause now I’m horny.”

Izuku moved behind him, mouthing hot and wet over his spine and neck. “Can we take care of you, Kacchan?”

“I have a nightmare and you two get raging hard-ons. Maybe you are the ones with issues.”

Leaning on his elbow, Shouto attacked him from the ground and kissed up Katsuki’s bare chest with wet lips. “Can’t help it. You’re so pretty.”

“Fuckin—ah. Shit, Izuku.”

“Baby, please. I want you. Wanna treat you so good, Kacchan,” Izuku purred.


Listen if you ever heard Izuku Midoriya purr like a frisky tomcat with a hard cock humping your ass in a dark room then you would be no better than Katsuki, who fucking crumbled at the sound. Who didn’t protest one bit when Shouto and Izuku decided his shuddery moans were the green for go and started to undress him like savages. Pawing. Kneading. Licking. Kissing. Groans of pleasure when they got his underwear off and cupped the length of his cock.

Izuku licked up his neck with red lips, spit-slicked fingers ghosting over his abs and past his leaking cock to play with his hole. “Can I fuck you?” He rasped, pressing lightly. “Haven’t been in you for so long, Kacchan.”

“Fuck, man,” Katsuki moaned, breaking away from the barbaric tongue fucking Shouto was delivering to him. “Do it. Fuck me.”

Any other time, Katsuki would rip into Izuku’s for gaping at him with an opened mouth and heavy eyes but now, it filled him with heated. Tugged his cock. Had him spreading his legs on his own. “Katsuki.” He pressed a finger in, moaning loud and wild like Katsuki was the one fingering him.

“Mmm,” Shouto hummed, unrepentantly watching Izuku’s finger move in and out of Katsuki.  “You better get to that, Izuku. It’s a rare day when Katsuki wants a dick.”

“S-shut up.”

“It’s okay, Katsuki. It’s hot when you want it. You look incredible taking it.”

The tendons in his neck pressed against his skin as he arched his neck back. “Fuck, fuck.”

“So pretty,” Shouto cooed wetly, greedily feeling up his chest, went over the swell of muscle and squeezed the hardness. “So damn perfect. I can’t think straight when you’re around. Do you know that? I can’t get a good education with you in the same room.”

“Ha, fucking knew—“ He had a good thought, an insightful one; shame Izuku ruined it by spreading his fingers. “Shit, Deku, Deku, more, yea? Fucking like that.”

Izuku took position by his other ear currently not getting fucked vocally and fixed that situation. “Is it good, baby?”

“Fuck, you piece of shit,” he groaned, twisted good by the two fingers pumping inside him and the large hand of Shouto dragging up the inside of his thigh to his cock.

Izuku sucked a hickey and breathed over it, a hot smile played on his lips when Katsuki shivered from it. “Baby,” he rasped. Low. Awful. So, so gone from straight-laced Deku who squealed over heroes like a fanboy. “C’mon, I want you to tell me it feels good.”

“When I fuck you,” Katsuki paused to wet his dry lips, “I’m going to do the same shit to you.”

Izuku rocked his hips into his side, apparently very agreeable to that. “Katsuki. Please.”

“You asshole. You perfect prick. Fucking like when you finger me. Like when you fuck me too.”

He hid into the sheet, hips still rutting and fingers slamming fast.  “Crap, shit.”

Shouto leaned over Katsuki, yanked Izuku by his curls, and fucked his mouth open, such a beast about it like on the field. There wouldn’t come a day where manhandling Izuku like a toy did not knot Katsuki into a twist. That pretty, scarred body submitting freely and eagerly all the god damn time. Those addictive whines he let out in response, low and good for it. A hot look entering his round eyes.

Katsuki bit his lip, savaging it as he watched Shouto’s pink tongue glide over Izuku’s, utterly bewitched. Utterly filled with the realization that he was probably in love with these two pricks, and there was something wonderful and terrifying about it. They already had enemies, hands still missing a diploma and they had a list of fuckheads who asses were in dire need of a royal ass kicking.

Man, oh, man was the world of heroes going to take them for one hell of a ride; for now though, it was the three of them that mattered. Katsuki felt up his boyfriends. Watched lazily as his hand walk up Shouto’s sculpted back, tongue deep inside of Izuku. Then let his other hand find a hot hold in Izuku’s dark curls, tugging and entangling it so Izuku’s breath hitched while he made out with Shouto.

They forgot about him for a bit, lost in each other. Katsuki was more than okay with the shift. Groaned out every dirty thought that entered his mind. “Damn.” He looked with an open mouth, breathing hard. “Fucking kiss him. Kiss that perfect fucking mouth.”

Izuku turned his face, looked at him as Shouto mouthed his neck and cheeks. “Kacchan.”

He pressed his thumb  on those bee-stung plump lips. “You like how he kisses, Deku? Got such a nice mouth on him, right?”

“Yes,” he gasped, then sucked on his thumb like it was his cock. Leveled his green eyes on him. Circled his tongue. Katsuki pumped himself to it.

“Izuku,” Shouto rasped. “You still haven’t fucked him yet. Gotta do that or I might take him for myself.”

Popping out with a slick smack, Izuku laughed. “No fair. You got him last time. It’s my turn.”

“Really? You guys keep a tally on who fucks me?”

“I mean,” Izuku teethed his lower lip nervously and sat on his heels. “It’s just usually you do me or Shouto does me. Or Shouto does you and you do him.”

Katsuki touched his kneecap and followed the power of muscle in his thighs. A purring hunger burned him as he looked at Izuku’s hard cock. “You wanna fuck me more?”

“Yea. Not that I don’t like when you do it,” he corrected hastily. “I do. You’re so…okay, shut up with that gross face, jerk. But I want you too. I want to be inside you.”

“Hey, you can fuck me anytime,” he said, stretching forward to stroke Izuku cock. Hot as fire when he felt that heavy cock throb in his hand.

Izuku shivered, tension sat in his thighs as he moved into it leisurely. He talked with a voice dipped in tar, oozing and dark. Suddenly, Katsuki wanted that voice in his ear as Izuku fucked him. “Sorry, this is a weird time to bring it up.”

Shouto laid on his arm, spectating. “Actually, in the middle of sex is a good time to bring up stuff about sex.”

“No. I mean. I’m not trying to take advantage cause of the…,” he trailed off,  respectful of Katsuki’s limits.

“I don’t need to be fucked in the head to want you. This shit is yours whenever the hell you like.”

“Oh,” he moaned.

“You gonna take it?” Katsuki went up to his knees and took Izuku’s freckled cheeks in his hands. “Or do I gotta yell at you to fuck me, Izuku?”

“Baby.” Izuku kissed him, then pushed him back into the mattress and spread his thighs.

Katsuki’s knees went right where they belonged, hitched on Izuku’s narrow waist and it was a smart move on his part going by the moan Izuku breathed over his mouth. Rather than fondled up his thick thighs, Izuku did him sweet and touched his face, fingers always on this self-assigned mission to map every perfection, every imperfection to the pads of his fingers. Traced the line of his brow. The bone of his sharp nose. The masculine cut of his jaw. Finished up all this caressing by cradling his face and pressing his fingers to his cheeks and kissed him. Chaste, like their first date. Sweet, like the sundae they split from the McDonalds three blocks away from U.A. Izuku’s kisses were the ones found in storybooks with princes and princesses and a fiery dragon. If the world didn’t live with impossible people with extraordinary abilities, then Izuku’s mouth could give you the faith for it.

All that sweet kissing made it easy for Shouto to pump three lubed fingers in his ass without so much as a greeting, a hello and here’s three fingers for you, babe.

Katsuki tuned his face away and fought the tug to roll his eyes back in pleasure; because, one, he had two knockouts above him, supplying him with the treatment of a king, and two, Shouto’s desire was naked and hot. Hair damp. Skin flushed. Mouth the playground of Katsuki’s and Izuku’s spit.

And they’re a bit kinky, too, and liked to watch each other.

So…gonna look at this pretty guy who couldn’t resist him “Fuck. Shouto.”

“Just getting you ready. Gonna drive Izuku insane if we don’t loosen you up.” The quality of his voice was no kinder than his flames, charring Katsuki up like dry wood.

He hissed, attention was drawn back to Izuku, who skipped from his sweet phase and moved to that unstoppable guy in the ring— the one who could endure fractures and broken bones and still swung a fist—and sucked noisily on his skin.

“Kacchan,” he purred, “I want you. Want you like crazy.”

“Fuck. Then do it. I’m good. Fuck me, Izuku.”

“Shouto—haha, you’re the best,” he laughed, shaking his head at how fast Shouto supplied a fresh condom.

Katsuki smacked his ass while he watched Izuku rip the packet and roll on the rubber. “Damn.” He admired. “Gonna fill me up with that?”

“Yes.” Izuku shuffled in, thighs flushed to his, and slicked his cock.

“Can’t fucking wait. Hurry that pretty ass up. I want you.”  

Katsuki put an arch to his back that left Izuku shaking violently as he gripped the base of his cock and pressed inside. It had been a while since they fucked—did you know how much time it took to get two people prepare for anal, because it wasn’t like the pornos where you fucked each other every day—so Katsuki wasn’t too proud of the quivery moan on his lips and the fact his eyes rolled far to the back of his head. Fuck, he totally blanked out on how good Izuku felt inside him. How thick he was. How awesome it felt seeing him cage his body and pump into him tenderly, because Izuku thought of everyone’s needs before himself, before it got too good for him and he collapsed on top, begging Katsuki to let him go hard. Go fast.

Dark curls hung in his eyes. “Baby, ah, baby.”

“F-fuck. That good, Izuku?”

“Kacchan. Shit. I can’t—ah. You feel so good, baby. Can I,” he swallowed thickly, “Can I fuck you harder, please?”

Shouto chilled beside them, casually jerking off.  “Fuck him hard, Izuku.”

“Kacchan? Please, wanna go hard.”

Whoops, Katsuki kind of orbited to the planets for the moment. Good dick would do that. He rolled his eyes from the back of his skull and managed a gruff, “Yea. Want it so fucking hard, Izuku.”, then went back to it. Literally on his back, opening his legs as wider as they could go, and groaned when Izuku fucked into him so hard he slid up the bed.

Fucking hell yeah.

“Ah, fuck,” Katsuki clawed his back like a cat, snapping Izuku’s chest to his and snarled darkly over his ear. “There. Fuck. Right there. Don’t you fucking stop, Deku.” A breath rattled out of him, spilling out like someone took a cleaver to him.

Every time he opened his eyes and simply looked at Izuku, his heart pulled to a complete stop, causing one hell of a traffic jam in the highway of his body.  He looked like a real man, not a kid growing into his quirk and his body, with his skin pink and wet, with the muscles in his arms and stomach rippling as he drew his cock back then in, with his hair wild and knotted from Katsuki’s angry hands. The scars littered on his body sold the image further. Jagged and masculine. Proof of a fighter. Physical evidence he could wreck Katsuki’s shit too. Could actually manhandle Katsuki on his hands and knees like a slut and fuck him from behind.

Could, could, but Izuku was all warm chocolate inside.

“I’m close, Kacchan,” he whined.

Those must be the magic words for Shouto because he shouted loud, climaxing hard as he milked his cock.

“You got, like, ha, no fucking stamina,” Katsuki laughed breathlessly, him and Izuku in pause mode to watch Shouto spurt cum on his hard stomach.

“Sorry. You guys are taking way too long and we have class at seven.”

“Don’t think about school when we’re having sex, Shouto,” Izuku complained. “That’s so mean.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t aroused. You think I can jerk off for an hour with you two screwing around? Nope. That’s not my quirk.”

Katsuki snorted. “Imagine—ah. Fuck, Izuku.”

“No hero talk,” Izuku growled. “Think about me, Kacchan. Think about my cock. Think about this. Me inside of you. You’re taking me so perfectly. Why are you so perfect, Kacchan?”

Katsuki reached behind himself for, fuck, anything to hold on to as Izuku rammed into him.  “Fuck. Come, on, come on.”

“Your face. Your body. Ha, your mouth. God, your cock. Everything. Is. So. Perfect.”


“He’s right, you know,” Shouto whispered into his god damn ear like that was fair. Like Katsuki was not dying away and seeing spots in his vision. “Look at how bad he wants you. Can’t even control himself anymore.”

“Don’t stop, Izuku.”

“Kacchan. I can’t—fuck.” Izuku dropped his head onto his shoulder and chewed on the skin there with hoarse voice. “I’m gonna cum. I can’t stop, baby.”

“Shit. S-Shouto,” he stuttered, blindly smacking the bed for him until Shouto grabbed it, pressed a loving kiss to the back of it, and slotted his body to his side.

“I got you, Katsuki.” Shouto reached between their bodies and stroked Katsuki to Izuku’s thrust, squeezing on the sensitive head with every upward pump. “Go on.”

He closed his eyes and let the pleasure take him. Let himself drown in the thick feeling of Izuku dragging heavy and fast in and out. Of Shouto’s hot voice whispering pretty praises with a rough hand until Katsuki was set to ka-boom.

Fuck the amount of sweat he was producing could kill the entire student body.

That shouldn’t turn him on but…

His body snapped taut as he came, voice absolutely shredded to smithereens, cum spurted out thickly across his stomach. Izuku went into beast mode then, pinned Katsuki like a hammer to the bed, and slammed hard enough to bruise the back of his thighs until he came, sobbing brokenly.

He fell like a wet rag on top of him. “Baby.”

“I love dorm life,” Katsuki said.

“Hey, jerk.” Izuku pinched his pec. “Say something sweet.”

“You two are alright,” he lied.  







They curled under the sheets, too wired for sleep, and talked about whatever in the dark with hushed words.

Katsuki stared at the light reflecting off a passing car crawled on the ceiling. “You know who rarely gets fucked in the ass? Shouto.”

Izuku laughed from where he smooshed his cheek on his naked chest. “Hey, that is true.”

“I like to be on top,” Shouto explained, legs tangled messily with Katsuki’s. “Great view. I get to see you two.”

“He’s a bad bottom,” Katsuki theorized. “Can’t take the cock.”

Shouto had several counter-arguments to that, but his most convincing one was the slap of the pillow to Katsuki’s face.

Izuku rolled off, overcome with laughter. “Shouto’s quirk is the master of pillows.”

“Haha, Pillow Master,” Katsuki snickered,  the pillow set upon his face muffled his obnoxious voice.

“You two are complete children,” Shouto said, his pillow rage had passed, for now.

“Big words from a guy who fights with pillows,” Izuku said, expression alive with mischief.

Katsuki snapped his fingers. “Damn, you got owned, bitch. Suck it, Shouto.”

“Oh, suck it? Sure.” Shouto slithered under the covers and pulled Katsuki’s flaccid cock into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Katsuki moaned, lifting the sheets to watch Shouto’s wet mouth glide smoothly up his shaft with his hands bruising his hips as he pinned them down. One blue eye locked on him as he pulled off, saliva trailing, and kissed the crown.

Shouto might be quiet in the outside world, courteous with his volume, but his mouth was fucking loud when he sucked cock. Hard breathing. Wet slurps. Gagging tongue.  “Shouto, fuck. Gimme that fucking mouth.”

Izuku pressed a messy kiss to the side of his neck, already hard again and moving Katsuki’s hand in between his thighs. “We doing round two? Dibs on riding you.”








“You fell asleep,” Izuku said, when Katsuki grumbled angrily from his nap on the school bus thanks to the vocals of Denki, Eijirou, Hanta, and Mina. Who all decided on the ride back to U.A. to  blast  the Pokemon theme song.

“I wanna be the very best that no one ever was,” Eijirou belted.

Denki sang. “To catch them is my real quest, to train them is my cause.”

“Pokemon!” Mina, Momo, and Ochako chorused.

Aizawa looked sightlessly into his thermos and wondered how many shots of espresso would it take to drown out the annoying grate of baby heroes. About enough to legally kill him, right?

 “Fucking kids,” he complained, drank his cold coffee, and bristled like a cat when Yagi turned in the seat and rudely bumped into his arm.

Yagi joined in at the front of the bus. “Pokemon, oh, you’re my best friend.”

Okay, to be frank, everyone knew that inside of the great All Might was a bigger man-child. A man-child ranked number one and could level out an entire city for a new, mega shopping mall.

Aizawa glared at Yagi, prepared to devote minutes until Yagi noticed him.

“I’m sorry, Aizawa, did I spill your coffee?”

“You’re so fucking gross. I can’t believe we’re co-workers. You better not play these kids a dumb hero movie when you sub for me.”

“What? I would never…”

“What movie?” He asked, seeing clear through Yagi’s guilty smile.

Realizing he couldn’t outwit Aizawa, he admitted sheepishly. “…I was thinking ‘Dark Knight’.”

Aizawa curled his lip. “Put on DC and they’ll be too depressed to be heroes. Put on Marvel, and they’ll think they’re invincible. Play them SpongeBob, that should work.”

Yagi gave one of his famous ‘All Might’ laughs. “This is why I enjoy working with you so much. Never a dull moment, have you ever thought about a career in comedy?”

“I know when you’re fucking with me.”

“Sorry. But seriously, after all this, let’s do standup comedy.”

Katsuki’s spiky bedhead popped up from the seats, did a 360 scope where he glared appropriately at everyone who disturbed his slumber, and slouched back into the comfy crook of the side of the bus and Izuku’s strong body. His hood shadowed his face from the Halloween orange afternoon sun as it dipped behind the fake city.

He went back to it, tired from unleashing his full power in what left like years. He kicked ass. Destroyed a few building and endangered the integrity of the support beams. His skin smelled like smoke again. The ache in his palms that he associated with a good day.

Izuku craned his neck to see Katsuki’s face under the hood, then looked to Shouto. “Did you see that?”

“Yea,” Shouto hummed, white hair streaming over the red half as air rushed in from the opened window.  He sounded proud. “No nightmares.”

Izuku grinned, and looked back as Katsuki fell back into a comfortable nap free, at least for now, from the awful memories. “That’s our Katsuki,” he laughed. “Kicking ass.”