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The Intervention

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Bakugou really should’ve realized how perceptive his classmates were the moment he met them. Deku, well -- given the sheer amount of journals that guy had shoved up his ass detailing the different heroes he’d been studying over the years, he was naturally observant. Not like Bakugou had forgotten all the times the little shit had outsmarted him at seemingly every turn, either. No, his hatefire held onto those memories in particular.

The others, however. Bakugou knew none of them individually were worth his time, but he never figured the whole class as an entity into the equation. Didn’t matter how many times he whooped their asses through the years at UA High, it was like every one of their failures was another note in their giant Deku Journal™ -- another idea of how to bring him down.

So when Deku and that sneaky half-n-half boyfriend of his Todoroki started their stupid little scheme behind his back, Bakugou really should’ve noticed.

The fact that he craved attention was already an established fact. It wasn’t that Bakugou particularly cared about what others thought of him, he just knew he deserved it. Ever since he was little, peers and adults were enamored with both him and his quirk. He knew he was something to be sought after. To be admired. He enjoyed giving others a show. Out of fear or respect, they’d know to give him distance, and he could go about his business without any pathetic extras getting in his way.

When high school started all that time ago, it went without saying that Bakugou found himself in a sea of kids with quirks and abilities that demanded just as much attention as he did. Even Deku, who he thought didn’t deserve a second glance, wormed his way through Bakugou’s periphery right into the front of his tunnel-vision until they became rivals. Bakugou still managed to set himself apart from his classmates, but in a less positive light than before. Not that he particularly minded; as long as he was still in the spotlight he knew he was meant to rule in, he felt fucking perfect.

It wasn’t until a couple years later that just how much Bakugou thought about the love he got from others began to show. Thinking back, it was probably a miracle he lasted that long. He could never take a compliment, his classmates realized; every time All Might or some other teacher praised his good technique or skillful use of his quirk, he either blew it off with a scowl or huffed something about how “I know I’m fan-fucking-tastic, I don’t need you to tell me that.” It just never occurred to them that there was something there that was being covered up by all that bravado.

The first instance was purely an accident. Bakugou and and Denki had been messing around in class during their study hour, as they had a tendency to do since there was a change of assigned seats. Shoving the chair out from under each other, stealing each other’s homework, tossing crumpled bits of smoking paper or a static-charged pencil end at each other until some kind of friendly scuffle broke out -- just things their neighbors had to get used to to get any kind of work done. One day Ochako had been shuffling around in her backpack before leaning forward to ask Tsuyu if she could borrow a pencil. Bakugou, who had overheard and just stolen Denki’s, nimbly tossed it to her before Denki could grab it back.

“Here you go, Pink Cheeks.”

Ochako, who turned just in time to catch the pencil, was so taken aback by Bakugou’s simple favor that she flat-out stared at him for a few beats before collecting herself enough to say “th-thank you, Bakugou.”

It took around a half of a second for the boy’s face to light up like a stoplight before he was loudly proclaiming that she better damn keep it so Sparky didn’t get any more ideas. Needless to say everyone in the vicinity noticed the obnoxious reaction, and though it wasn’t considerably different than any of his other outbursts, Midoriya and Todoroki shared a look.

The second time was Kirishima’s fault. During a group activity, the unfortunate souls who were partnered with Bakugou were doing their best to accommodate his explosive energy. As per usual, Bakugou was off on his own, trying to win by himself against a group of three. His partners, Kirishima and Mina, were trailing a bit behind, trying to make the best of their situation.

“Oi, ‘Splodey Brains, take them on the left!” Kirishima shouted to the blonde blur speeding towards the opposing team. “Let Mina distract Tokoyami!”

To the redhead’s surprise, Bakugou actually nodded and changed his course before using the opening Mina created for him to strike at Aoyama, who was holding the flag they needed to win. After Aizawa-sensei tallied their points, Kirishima threw his arm around Bakugou’s shoulders, laughing.

Good boy, Katsuki!” he cackled, ruffling his friend’s spikey locks as if he were an obedient dog. He didn’t even register that Bakugou had ducked out from under him until he lost his balance and heard the guy sputtering at him from across the court.

“Call me that again and you’ll wish you had died in the womb, you -- you fuckin’ -- stupid --” he didn’t bother finishing whatever scathing insult he was thinking of before spinning on his heel and darting away. Kirishima watched him in confusion, then turned to Mina to shrug and caught Midoriya’s eye. He seemed just as baffled as Kirishima, but there was a ghost of a smile of disbelief there, too.

The third time was completely on purpose, and of course it was because Todoroki was being a little shit. Maybe he wanted to do something about whatever little thing he and Midoriya had caught on to, or maybe he had just gotten tired of Bakugou mocking them both as they held hands between classes. But when for the umpteenth time Bakugou shouted across the hall to them something like “keep that nasty shit to yourselves, losers,” Todoroki pulled Deku close and without skipping a beat shot back in his calmest voice, “maybe we’d hold your hand, too, if you were a good boy.”

Kirishima, who was watching, visibly flinched upon hearing the pet name that’d almost cost him his life a couple days before -- but froze when he saw that Todoroki and Izuku had passed Bakugou without a scratch. Izuku’s eyes were big as baseballs, and kept his boyfriend between him and his rival until they were out of harm’s way. Bakugou just stood there, gaping after them with a light dusting of pink coloring his cheeks. The only thing that made him clamp back up was Mineta, who was stupid enough to laugh out loud at him. But when even that little shit escaped injury because of how shaken Bakugou was -- that was when everyone knew something was up.

It was a while later when Deku and Todoroki actually decided to make their move. They waited for a few weeks, filing away every reaction Bakugou had to his classmates using that nickname to tease him. How satisfying it was to watch all that arrogance and swagger fall apart. They found their opportunity to ambush Bakugou as he was coming back from a training session behind the school. The alley between an abandoned sports equipment shed and an unused green house was where the explosive teen always disappeared to to blow off steam after Aizawa-sensei’s frustrating exercises -- everybody knew that. Today, Todoroki and Izuku just happened to be waiting.

Well, not exactly waiting. It was Todoroki’s idea to set a kind of trap for Bakugou, but Izuku didn’t want to make it seem like they were angry. They didn’t want to intimidate him. They just wanted to. . . help.

That’s all this was. An intervention.

So they started kissing, tongues lazily sliding together as fingers threaded through hair. Todoroki never wasted an opportunity to kiss Izuku. The boy was so irresistible, with his sweet little freckles underneath shining, earnest eyes. His lips were impossibly soft, and Todoroki almost found himself lost in the feeling until Izuku let out a soft “Shoucchan. . .” and he opened his eyes to find Izuku’s sliding to their left.

Bakugou was standing still as ice at the entrance to the small alleyway, still sweaty from Aizawa-sensei’s exercises. His expression was the most unguarded they’d ever seen it, with eyes wide and lips not quite closed from a sharp inhale of surprise. His blush was as red as his irises and trickled from his ears all the way down his neck. Rather than looking scandalized, like he always acted, he seemed intrigued. He had been standing there awhile. Now that he saw them watching him, however, he snapped his jaw shut and glanced around the alley as if he expected his other classmates to jump out and laugh at him as they had been the past few weeks. He gulped and Izuku was sure he was going to spin and dash away, but after a spectacularly long recovery Bakugou was able to get himself under control enough to glower at them and stomp forward.

“What the fuck are you two nerds doing here? Nevermind, I don’t even want to know, just get out of my way.”

“Kacchan, wait --” Deku stepped in front of him, placing a hand in the center of the blonde’s chest when he didn’t slow down. Bakugou stopped in his tracks, snapping his eyes from the smaller teen down to the hand splayed at his chest and back up again in what had to be the most vicious display of unspoken indignation Deku had ever seen. The freckled boy kept it there, aware that he was crossing a line as well as the fact that he wasn’t scared of his rival anymore. They both knew that if Deku wanted, he could bend his pinky and send Bakugou flying into the dorm building. He didn’t, instead keeping his sincere eyes locked onto Bakugou’s suspicious ones. “You have a secret. Something you don’t want anyone else to know, but. . .” Deku’s eyes dropped for just a moment before raising once again with newfound determination. “Shoucchan and I. We can help. If you trust us.”

“Wh-what --” Bakugou’s eyes narrowed before widening again in alarm at a swift movement by his side.

Todoroki stepped up behind him, effectively sandwiching him between the two teens. His close proximity made Bakugou gulp again, but he made no move to escape. The way Deku was looking at him kept him solidly in place. The boy was a few centimeters shorter than Bakugou, but Todoroki was taller than both of them, and the way Deku wielded the self-confidence taught to him by his friends and teachers was enough to bridge the difference. His eyes were rich and seemingly innocent, his head cocked as if searching for an answer to a question he hadn’t asked yet.

“We already know what you need. You’ve lived off praise like oxygen your entire life. But now, you don’t have it as much anymore, do you? Let us help, Kacchan.” Deku’s voice had dipped an octave into a honey-like sweetness that Bakugou didn’t trust for a minute. He held his breath as the teen in front of him slowly retracted his fingers until just one was tracing idle circles through his shirt. “Let us love you.”

The unexpected words were like a blow to Bakugou’s chest. All the air trapped there left him in a rush, and he found himself subconsciously backing into Todoroki, who placed a calm yet searing hand on his shoulder. Deku was still staring right through him.

“W-what kind of fuckshit are you spouting now?” Bakugou tried to recover by smacking Deku’s hand away. “I don’t know what your hyperactive little brain cooked up this time, but I don’t have time to fuck around with you nerds. Get your sweaty hand off me before I blow it off, Scarface.”

He tried ducking his way out of their embrace, but two things happened. The first was Todoroki’s grip shifting to his hips, securing him in place before he could even take a step. The second was Deku’s hand shooting out to grab Bakugou’s chin as he tried to twist his way past them. It wasn’t particularly rough, and the grunt that left Bakugou’s lips was more from surprise than pain, but he could feel the strength behind Deku’s freckled flesh and suppressed a shudder. This was not happening.

Deku’s grasp was gentle but firm as he slowly guided Bakugou’s face to his front again. The look in his eyes had changed; instead of innocent, it was more assertive. . . dominating. They were still wide and unblinking, though, as if Deku was daring him to try anything. As if Bakugou even could, with his entire back flush against Todoroki’s chest. Not that he would have actually followed through with his threat and risk hurting all three of them with his quirk just to run away, anyway. He’d grown past that thoughtless nonsense awhile ago. Still, his palms began steaming despite himself, and he found himself clutching at Todoroki’s arms more for stability than anything.

“That wasn’t very nice, Kacchan. Do you want to try again?”

Deku was looking down at him. When did that happen? Bakugou was sagging in Todoroki’s arms, shoulders hunched as if trying to shield himself from what was coming next. His palms felt impossibly hot, and part of his brain registered that Todoroki was using his quirk to cool the parts of his arms that were coming into contact with his own overheated skin. The blonde’s breaths were coming out as short little huffs as he tried to steel himself against Deku’s fierce gaze. It was hard to maintain a threatening look when his cheeks and lips were being forced into an exaggerated pout by Deku’s thumb and forefinger, but he channeled as much energy as he could into his red-eyed glare.

“Fuckin’ make me.”

Deku’s face unexpectedly softened into a flash of surprise and. . . was that affection? . . . before hardening once more into an imposing smirk.

“Kacchan, how hard do you think that would be for me?” The hand gripping his face eased into a smooth caress that traveled across his cheek, over his throat, down his chest, down his abs clenching in apprehension, down, down -- “when you have this?”

Shit. Bakugou’s heart thudded as he looked down to find his sweatpants tenting. Had he fuckin’ popped a boner while Deku was sweet-talking him? Pathetic.

Deku’s hand ghosted over the length before drawing one finger, feather-light, up the underside from base to tip. Bakugou’s knees shook. Against his every will, he let his mouth fall open to take in a slight, shuddery breath. He blinked at himself, beyond humiliated and terrified of what he would find in Deku’s eyes if he met them again.

Deku must have figured what Bakugou was thinking, because he laced his fingers through the blonde hairs at the back of his neck and bent to meet his lowered gaze. There was tenderness there as he murmured, “don’t be embarrassed, Kacchan,” and pressed his own hardness against Bakugou’s thigh.

Bakugou hadn’t been expecting that.

He started backwards again, pressing himself more firmly against Todoroki, but Deku only followed him until he was locked snugly between their bodies. Conscious thoughts were starting to come a little harder to Bakugou, and his vision spun out of focus for a half a second when he also felt Todoroki’s length on his ass. Sweet Christ, he could feel it right through their pants.

“See?” Deku continued, keeping his hand on Bakugou’s neck and pressing their foreheads together. Bakugou could feel the freckled boy’s breath fan across his cheeks. They were so close. Deku’s lips actually brushed the corner of his own as he whispered, “please let us help. I’ve watched you lock yourself up in false confidence for years. You can trust us.”

At first Bakugou didn’t respond, and Deku and Todoroki glanced at each other over his shoulder, worried he was too far gone. He was breathing heavily, his hips making shy little thrusts against Deku’s thigh. But when he raised his head to Deku, pupils blown, all he gave was a shaky nod.

Deku blinked, seemingly taken aback by how easily Bakugou had given himself over to the boys he considered his lifelong rivals. The look the blonde was giving him now was one of pure longing, one Deku had never seen on him before. He held the gaze for a couple heartbeats before nodding himself.

“Okay. Okay.” Another glance over Bakugou’s shoulder at Todoroki. “Okay.” A slow smile, a gentle caress up Bakugou’s bicep.

Bakugou’s eyes were trained on the ground as Deku straightened again, still half-expecting the boys to drop him and laugh, claiming this was all some huge prank. But then Deku’s fingers suddenly tightened in Bakugou’s hair, jerking his head back to meet his predatory smirk. The huff of surprise that left him was quickly swallowed up as Deku guided their lips together. Bakugou didn’t even have time to tense up before Deku’s tongue was prying his mouth open enough to dive inside. Countless needy sounds squeaked from Bakugou’s throat only to be muffled by Deku’s relentless kisses. When their tongues met it was like the last outlet it took to fry a circuit; Bakugou’s mind went blank, only able to register Deku’s smooth but bruising pressure and the wet slide of their panting mouths.

When Deku finally broke away Bakugou chased him, lurching forward just a tiny bit in Todoroki’s firm grasp. It was almost like his view was fogged over, his classmate’s face just out of focus as he gasped out, “D-Deku. . .

Even in his disoriented state, Bakugou saw Deku’s eyebrows snap down to a fierce snarl before the fingers in his hair tugged down viciously. Bakugou grunted as his head was drawn further back, fully exposing his flushed neck. He swallowed.

“Wrong. You don’t get to call me that. Not when you’re like this,” the boy wedged his thigh under Bakugou’s dick for good measure, dragging a moan from his chest. “Do you understand? When we do this, you call me Izuku.”

Both Midoriya and Todoroki had known it was only a matter of time before their little experiment found a snag. Bakugou’s natural jeering pride would undoubtedly kick in at some point, so Todoroki was expecting it when the boy’s slackened lips curled into a stubborn pout. The blonde opened his mouth to retort, but Todoroki took his chance to roll his hips directly into Bakugou’s ass, cutting him off. Bakugou bit down on a groan while his fingers bruised the flesh beneath them.

“Apologize,” Todoroki whispered into his ear. “Try it, Katsuki.” He rolled his hips again at the name, feeling Bakugou heave a shaky breath.

“I-Izuku. I’m sorry, Izuku.” The amends were offered through gritted teeth, but Izuku smiled anyway -- a false gentleness. He loosened his hold on Bakugou’s hair, instead petting it tenderly.

“Good. Now what about Shoucchan? Try that. Shouto.”

“Sh-Shouto.”

Izuku grinned again, and Todoroki smiled back before ducking down to kiss up Bakugou’s neck.

“Good boy.”

Shouto bit down at that, and he wasn’t sure if it was his teeth or the praise that did it but an embarrassing ‘hngaah’ erupted from the quivering teen beneath him. At the same time, Izuku reached down to palm the boy through his sweatpants, and Bakugou was swiftly reduced to a moaning mess, hips making aborted thrusts as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted pressure at the front from Izuku or at the back from Shouto. Those noises kept spilling from his mouth, vulnerable haah’s and aah’s that only got louder as the ministrations continued.

“Look at you,” Izuku mused as he worked a hand under Bakugou’s shirt, “what a sweet sight you’ve made of yourself. All whimpering and whining under us. This is what you really want, isn’t it? I bet you would do anything we wanted right now.” His thumb found a nipple and rubbed over it, making Bakugou jolt. Todoroki nibbled lightly on the hickie he had just sucked onto pale skin, and the boy keened.

“What would you do?” Izuku continued. “Would you get on your knees for me?” The hand that had been groping Bakugou’s length fingered at his waistband. “Would you suck me off, right here?”

Todoroki’s hands replaced Izuku’s on Bakugou’s chest, pinching and rolling his nipples. Izuku’s free hand splayed across Bakugou’s hip, inching lower and lower as his pants loosened. Bakugou, not knowing what to do with his hands, clung to Izuku’s shoulder with one and gripped a handful of Todoroki’s shirt with the other. Izuku carried on with his murmurings close enough to the blonde’s face that his lips brushed Bakugou’s as he spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

“What if. . .” Izuku’s hand was pulling down Bakugou’s waistband now, “what if we wanted you to blow us both? Right here, on the gravel? Would you do that? Could you take it? I bet you’d like it.” He traced Bakugou’s lower lip with his tongue. “It’s easier than it looks.”

Bakugou shivered as cool air met his freed cock. It was wet before Izuku even touched it. The first contact of skin on skin had Bakugou choking on his own spit, and he did nothing to stop the guttural moans that spilled from him. The angle was so much different to when he did it himself. And then Izuku started moving his hand, squeezing and -- and Shouto was still fondling his chest, and --

“He’s so loud,” Todoroki mumbled where he was kissing under his jaw.

“He sounds gorgeous,” Izuku replied.

“I want to make him louder.”

“Me too.” Izuku started pumping faster, setting a pace Bakugou couldn’t keep up with. He felt himself cresting higher and higher, voice breaking on his cries as his mind flew. “We could take him later, if he wanted. Would you let us, Katsuki? Would you bend over for us? That would be a pretty view, now wouldn’t it? Katsuki Bakugou spreading his legs like a good boy.”

Each word was punctuated by a roll of Shouto’s hips. Bakugou could only reply in a series of broken gasps, clawing at Izuku’s shirt and desperately rocking up to meet his working fist. He let his head fall back onto Shouto’s shoulder, the taller one humming his approval. Izuku kissed between Bakugou’s collarbones before licking a hot stripe up the column of his thoroughly debauched neck.

His breath fanned over Bakugou’s face has he purred, “come for me.”

And, as if every hair on Bakugou’s body had been standing on end waiting for that command, he felt himself tip over the precipice he’d been balancing on and came with a wrecked cry. He could feel the breath in his lungs leaving him in a rush as he painted Izuku’s fist with filmy whiteness. Izuku kept moving, milking him until Bakugou shuddered with sensitivity. Bakugou felt utterly boneless, once again sagging against Shouto as his head fell forward to gulp in air. He blinked his hair out of his face to watch dazedly as Izuku brought his hand up and proceeded to lick Bakugou’s come off his fingers. Even Shouto audibly swallowed at that.

Izuku’s lips puckered obscenely over his knuckles, and he closed his eyes as if he was relishing in the taste. Another self-satisfied smirk worked its way over the boy’s freckled face, and Bakugou was struck again by how strange this new attitude was. He felt locked in place.

When Izuku’s eyes opened again, Bakugou had dropped right out of Shouto’s arms, shuffling forward on his knees to mouth frantically at Izuku’s crotch. Shouto blinked in surprise and even Izuku let out a startled yelp before dropping into a crouch in front of the blonde.

“Kacchan -- I didn’t mean -- that was just. . . you don’t have to --” his hands fluttered nervously around Bakugou’s face, settling on his cheeks. A bright flush that had been absent for the past twenty minutes finally overtook Izuku’s face as Bakugou gazed at him through glassy eyes. Shouto knelt behind him.

“Is he broken?” he asked with the kind of amusement only Izuku could read through Todoroki’s impassive voice. Izuku shot a glare at him over Bakugou’s shoulder before pressing a series of soft kisses to Bakugou’s face -- nose, eyelids, cheeks, forehead, lips.

“Kacchan, listen, let’s get you cleaned up. You don’t have to do anything, let me and Shoucchan--”

Take care of you.

Izuku cut himself off before he finished as Bakugou’s eyes sharpened, refocusing on Izuku’s face. He held his gaze for a moment or two before dropping it to look at his ruined pants, brows furrowing. A tense silence fell as Bakugou seemed to collect himself and Shouto and Izuku waited for his reaction.

Finally, the blonde pushed off his knees to regain his somewhat shaky footing, adjusting his sweatpants and tugging his shirt off to sling it around his waist. It didn’t cover the whole mess but nobody would bother looking closely enough to notice until he reached the locker room where he could change. Izuku stood as well, stepping closer to Shouto.

Izuku decided to risk it. “Kacchan. . .?”

“It’s fine.” Bakugou’s voice was surprisingly. . . soft. He refused to meet Izuku’s gaze, eyes glued to the ground as he scratched the back of his head. “I’m fine. Don’t bother. You don’t have to take care of me.” Izuku winced as a hint of bitterness worked its way into the boy’s last words. So he did guess was he was going to say.

Bakugou turned on his heel to head off to the showers, shoulders hunched and ears still practically glowing red. Izuku stepped forward to chase him but stopped when his boyfriend’s chilly hand landed on his shoulder. He looked back, worried, but Shouto’s expression was only one of satisfaction.

“Well, we certainly did something right,” he said.

“What does that mean?” Izuku asked, cocking his head in confusion.

“He didn’t try to kill us.”

That made Izuku laugh. He glanced again at his rival’s retreating back.

“Not yet, at least.”