Actions

Work Header

The Intervention

Chapter Text

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.”

Chapter Text

Days pass.

It soon became apparent that Deku and Todoroki wanted to give Bakugou some space after The Incident™, which Bakugou. . . wanted? Granted, he couldn’t let himself think about it for more than a couple seconds at a time before he turned into a blushing, stuttering mess. He didn’t know how he fucking felt about it. First of all, Deku and Todoroki were dating. In a relationship. As a couple. Monogamous. Might as well get hitched already for how much they swooned at each other. So where the hell did Bakugou fit into that equation? When had they decided he needed a pity fuck? Second of all, Bakugou had never even considered dating before. They were training to be heroes; there was no time for hooking up. Not to mention he absolutely hated the idea of getting that-kind-of-close to somebody, especially at UA High. All his peers were either allies, competition, or worthless. That’s it. Three categories, no exceptions.

But then. . .

This was usually the part where Bakugou would holler and kick something in frustration. The two people that he had been confident settled nicely into their given category were now forcing him to consider things he hadn’t had to consider before. It was complicated, and it was a fucking ass of a problem.

The problem being, Bakugou couldn’t actually jerk off without thinking of that time. Anytime he felt like he was getting close to relief, he found himself wishing his hands were different -- more calloused, maybe. He’d jump at phantom sensations, could swear he felt a heartbeat on his back or a hot breath on his neck. He’d get so close, he could hear Deku’s voice taunting him.

Would you bend over for us?

Come for me.

Bakugou let himself ignore how hard he came the first couple times it happened. But the more he indulged in it, the filthier his fucking imagination got. He’d wake up sweaty and panting at douche-o’clock in the morning, the feeling of choking on Deku’s dick still fresh in his mind. He could barely glance at Todoroki in the classroom without some traitorous part of his brain trying to illustrate in precise detail how he would look draped over Bakugou, forcing his knees apart to sink into him. . .

So he did what any sane, self-respecting teenager would do. He just refused to jerk the fuck off. (Bakugou had never taken so many cold showers in his life. Cold showers shrink sweat glands. He needed that shit for obvious reasons.)

The problem with that became apparent after about a week. The longer he went without whacking it, the more irritable he became at everyone, all the time. Average-Bakugou would sometimes snap at his classmates if they provoked him, maybe laugh cruelly if somebody else slipped up during an exercise -- This-Bakugou was exploding left and right for the most trivial reasons.

“Yeah? You’re sorry? Well, you can’t be sorry if you’re fucking dead, which is what you would’ve been if fucking Speed Racer over here was a real --”

“Okay, I get it!” Denki ran his hands through his hair, which was standing on end from all the static he’d just discharged before getting tagged by Iida in another hero-vs-villain simulation. “We won anyway, so what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that we lost you, dumbass! If you had just followed my fucking lead --”

If Aizawa-sensei hadn’t chosen that exact moment to announce the end of class, Bakugou would’ve blown up the damn gym. Instead he decided to abandon his argument in favor of turning on his heel and throwing his hands in the air. Like a fucking child.

The worst part about the whole situation was the way Bakugou knew Deku was looking at him every time he flipped his shit. Todoroki was much better about keeping his judgements to himself, not even bothering to turn to look when the blonde started yelling at people -- but Deku and his big, anxious eyes would follow Bakugou around like a mother watching her kid make a fool of himself on the playground. He hated that shit. He knew he was overreacting, and when had he ever been able to help it?

Why are you acting like this, Kacchan? Bakugou could swear the curly-haired boy was asking him. Is it Shoucchan and me? Is this our fault?

No, it’s fucking not. It’s mine.

By the time the second week came to a close, Bakugou’s conscience had had just about as much as it could take. He trudged up to his dorm room far too late in the evening, completely exhausted. His face felt sore from all the times he’d dragged his hands over it in frustration, and his thirsty-ass dick still wasn’t giving him a break. He was ready to pass the fuck out.

He was about to flop face-first on the bed when he heard a quiet knock echo through the room. For about half a second, Bakugou wondered if he could burn a hole through the wood of his door by glaring hard enough, just to see what iron-balled fucker thought it would be a good idea to mess with him right now. But he figured he’d probably have to pay back any damage, so with a groan he walked back over to it and swung it open.

And, of course, because the gods hated him and he deserved to be smote to the lowest level of Hell for his sins, he came face to face with Midoriya Izuku and Todoroki Shouto. Deku was restlessly wringing his hands while Todoroki had his own coolly shoved into his pockets. Bakugou stared at them for a couple beats before he felt his mouth curl into an ugly grimace.

“So what the fuck do you two nerds want?”

No, that’s not right.

Bakugou pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Kacchan.” Deku’s voice was low. Not quite sad, but. . . Concerned? Disappointed? Whatever it was, it made Bakugou flinch and drop his head. He couldn’t look up at him, couldn’t meet his eyes when he knew they’d be shining, filled with that same earnest worry that had been directed at him the past few days.

I don’t want you to sound like that.

Bakugou squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think of something to say, and startled when two scarred hands cupped his cheeks lightly. The same way they did when Deku was trying to care for him after The Incident™. His eyes opened to find the smaller boy getting right up in his space, and it took all of Bakugou’s self-control to not take a slight step back. Deku’s eyes were wide and shining, like Bakugou thought they would be, but not filled with that concern he’d been afraid of. Just. . . searching. Like last time.

“I. Um.” Bakugou started.

“Kacchan, we know something’s wrong. You’ve been weird lately. Does it have to do with what we did? Will you let us help again?” Deku cocked his head to the side all innocent-like and Bakugou could feel his chest heating up.

“What makes you fuckin’ think --”

As soon as the words left him, Deku’s left hand immediately shifted so it was pressing hard against his mouth, silencing him. A surprised huff left Bakugou’s nose as he glanced down at it and back up at the other’s face. This time, disappointment was clear in Deku’s sigh.

“Okay, you know what, I don’t want to hear that right now. Let’s go with yes or no questions, okay? Does that sound good?”

A heavy silence fell, and Bakugou could actually hear his heart skip a beat before he realized Deku was waiting for him to respond. He gave a nervous jerk of his head, earning a beaming smile from the boy. The hand that had still been cupping Bakugou’s cheek migrated towards the back of his neck, settling there. Even though Deku’s fingers were gentle, softly combing through the short hairs there, Bakugou knew how quickly they could take control of him. So why was he melting into that touch as if it relaxed him?

“Good. Next question. Do you want us to leave you alone? If you want us to go, we will.” Bakugou hesitated. He risked a glance at Todoroki, who was still leaning against the doorframe, eyes gleaming with interest. Bakugou shook his head. “Alright. Now, Kacchan. . .”

As he looked back towards Deku, he noticed the boy’s smile turning rather predatory. Bakugou tried to will back his fight-or-flight response -- it was much too late to escape Deku’s iron grasp. His fingers continued stroking through Bakugou’s hair, a hint of nail catching on his skin as he said, “You’ve been rather mean lately, haven’t you?”

A gulp. Another glance at Todoroki, another shaky nod.

“Tell me, Kacchan. Are good boys mean to their friends?”

A slight shiver, and a shake of his head.

“So then, what would that make you?”

Not fucking good, Bakugou wanted to say. All that came out was a small ‘hnnf’.

“Naughty?”

Yes. Fuck yes.

“Naughty boys should be punished, right? Do you think so, Shoucchan?”

“Thoroughly,” was Todoroki’s first word of the night. Only then, looking back and forth between the two grinning boys in front of him, did Bakugou really begin to realize how terrified he was. His breaths were coming quicker now, hot on Deku’s hand. A shameful squeak escaped him as the shorter one tugged his face down a fraction of an inch so they were standing nose to nose.

“Do you want it?”

Yes, yes, oh God yes I do, please, please --

Bakugou found himself nodding frantically against the hands cradling his head. Todoroki let a downright demonic smirk crawl up one side of his face, and Bakugou realized he’d been voicing all that aloud, his thoughts turning into muffled whimpers on Deku’s skin. He watched as the taller boy finally stepped through the door after his boyfriend, shutting it behind him and effectively crowding them all further into the room.

Deku let his hands fall, slinking around to Bakugou’s side to help Todoroki guide him towards the bed. A small part of Bakugou’s brain registered the fact that yes, they were headed towards the bed, which could only mean one thing -- but he could only take step after backwards step, refusing to take his eyes off the couple. Who knows what they would try if he turned his back on them. He only stopped moving when the backs of his knees hit the mattress, but Deku kept on pushing until he was forced to sit heavily on the sheets, resting on his elbows.

Bakugou’s coherent mind was starting to log the fuck out but it seemed like both Deku and Todoroki had it covered. Deku had followed Bakugou up onto the bed, swinging a leg under the blonde’s head so he was sitting directly behind him. Now Todoroki was looming over both of them, still sneering confidently between Bakugou’s thighs. He waited for Deku to get settled before placing both his palms flat on either side of sharp, pale hips and leaning forward so that he was hovering directly over Bakugou’s face. There was nothing the trembling boy could do to hide from those narrow eyes, and didn’t dare say anything when he was entirely trapped between him and his boyfriend.

The gaze was fierce and didn’t break as Todoroki shifted forward, forcing Bakugou to scoot back against Deku. Once one knee was drawn up to rest on the bed Todoroki’s right hand was free to trace over Bakugou’s lower stomach, feeling the tight muscles there quiver under the fabric.

“Do you think he knows what we’re going to do to him, Izuku?”

Bakugou could feel Deku’s uncharacteristic chuckle against his back and gulped. He watched Todoroki’s eyes follow the movement before they flicked back up again.

“No, not yet. If he did he wouldn’t be letting us play with him this much.”

Okay, goddamn. Bakugou opened his mouth to object, jerking forward to sit up, but Todoroki quickly pinned him in place with two hands spread over his belly. His face was already close but suddenly it was much closer and Bakugou was drowning in his eyes, whipped up in a hurricane of red and blue -- before Todoroki roughly claimed his mouth in a ferocious kiss that stole Bakugou’s words away.

Deku’s kiss had been strong, like him. Todoroki was much more unpredictable. He immediately dipped his tongue in past Bakugou’s pliant lips, exploring, and Bakugou could only let it happen as the other bit and sucked and refused to let him catch up. The hands holding down his hips grew more noticeable as Bakugou subconsciously tried to buck up into the heat he knew was right above him. Deku began stroking his arms, probably to calm the teen down as more and more desperate moans leaked from him. Soft but rough fingers intertwined themselves in Bakugou’s before he could rip through his own sheets with how hard he was clawing at them. Todoroki refused to let up even when Bakugou’s heaving breaths became frantic, mercilessly fucking his mouth open with his tongue, and let one of his hands drop lower to squeeze treacherously close to Bakugou’s swollen dick. A violent shiver wracked his body and finally Todoroki pulled away, looking no more than a little winded.

Bakugou’s legs were trying to twitch a little farther apart of their own volition, and as Todoroki noticed he readjusted his knee to lay on the inside of Bakugou’s leg, spreading him wide. At this angle the blonde could clearly see the embarrassingly large tent of his pants, and craned his head back to look up instead -- anywhere else than his own excitement. He found himself looking right into Deku’s eyes this time, and the intensity he saw in them made him swallow nervously. Deku’s pupils were blown, eclipsing the beautiful green irises in heavy lidded lust. As their gazes met, Deku squeezed Bakugou’s hands, smiled, and dipped his head to press an affectionate kiss to the other’s forehead.

The unexpected tenderness surprised Bakugou so much he didn’t notice Todoroki shifting until all three of them were scooted into the middle of the bed, with Todoroki kneeling between Bakugou’s parted thighs. He snapped his head back up, trying to close his legs in sudden humiliation.

“I -- fuck --”

“What? Shy?” Todoroki braced both hands on the insides of Bakugou’s knees, forcing them even wider apart. A fresh wave of heat flooded over Bakugou’s face and he had to look away, biting his lip harshly to keep from whimpering. Todoroki inched closer. “Imagine that. Bakugou Katsuki, acting all modest. As if you don’t act like you’re the best thing that ever graced this school. You know, eventually someone was going to lose their patience with you. Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Bakugou had squeezed his eyes shut but snapped them open again when a harsh grip on his jaw tugged his face forward to meet Todoroki’s relentless glare. He could hear his heart thudding in his ears. This was just too much like last time, there was only so much he could take -- more and more lava was pooling in his gut by the minute. He squirmed in Todoroki’s grasp. This was getting dangerous.

He watched as Todoroki’s gaze dipped again to consider his slackened lips, could see the exact moment the other boy decided to get another taste and licked back into Bakugou’s panting mouth. In a desperate attempt to ground himself Bakugou reached back towards Deku, who let him clutch at his shirt and kept a reassuring hold on his shoulders.

When Todoroki pulled away for the second time, it was with purpose. His fingers, which had been dancing around Bakugou’s hips, finally reached into his waistband and began tugging it down slowly, ever so slowly. Bakugou’s mind blanked and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the kneeling boy in front of him.

“Whoa.” Todoroki’s eyes widened a fraction as he freed Bakugou from his pants. The length he was holding was already purpled and throbbing. His gaze slid up to meet Bakugou’s, and the blonde bit his lip through his harsh breaths. “Excited?”

“What. . . what do you --” Bakugou shuddered as Todoroki gripped the base. “What do you think -- f-fuckin’ idiot. . .” It was very hard to sound threatening when his voice kept breaking every time Todoroki’s thumb slid up or down. Another deep blush worked its way down his face as Todoroki smirked at him, and he let his head fall heavily on Deku’s lap.

He did not find kindness there. Deku changed his innocent hold on Bakugou’s shoulders to a feather-light but sinister touch over his throat. Bakugou’s adam’s apple bobbed against his fingers as he tried to swallow but struggled; the look Deku was giving him was anything but comforting.

“Kacchan, every time you open your mouth something nasty comes out. Don’t you want to be good for us?”

Bakugou bared his teeth but couldn’t open his mouth because Deku’s palm suddenly grated against his jaw, holding it shut. Todoroki had paused his ministrations, and Bakugou’s dick was starting to ache with how close it was getting to release. Deku leaned down so his eyes were right over Bakugou’s when he whispered, “do you think you’ll get what you want if you’re not a good boy?”

The last remaining coherent part of Bakugou’s mind could’ve gotten whiplash with how fast he went from fiercely indignant to whimpering like a dog begging for a meal, desperately trying to rut into Todoroki’s fist. He couldn’t move his head because of Deku’s vice-like hold on his chin, but he released the other boy’s shirt as he reached for his own leaking cock.

In an instant, Bakugou’s face was released but his arms were clamped to the mattress so brutally his hands disappeared into the dipping sheets. He could feel a telltale prickling sensation on his skin and absentmindedly realized that Deku had used just a little bit of his fucking quirk to snatch Bakugou’s hands and hold them down behind him. Bakugou’s shoulders strained from the position and his back arched to resist the stretch, subsequently pulling his dick just a little bit through Todoroki’s hand. Bakugou wheezed through his clenched teeth, feeling a drip of sweat run down his neck.

“I guess he’s not in the mood to behave tonight, Izuku.” Todoroki spoke much too close to Bakugou’s length, the blonde could feel his breath fanning over it. “We should probably just leave him. See how he takes care of himself -- “

The sound that worked its way out of Bakugou’s throat was somewhere between a growl and a wail, but didn’t really take the form of a word until he gulped and tried again.

“Nnooo. No no no. . .” he lashed his head back and forth in Deku’s lap, hips twisting and shoulders quaking. “No, please, I’ll be good, I promise I’ll be so good, please. . .”

“Aaaaand there we go,” Deku laughed. His tongue darted out to lick Bakugou’s cheeks, lapping at a wetness Bakugou could only figure was his own tears. He would have been mortified at his own vulnerability -- Fucking crying? Lame -- if he wasn’t so far gone. “He just needed a little push, Shoucchan. He can be good when he wants to be. He’s just a selfish, greedy slut. You just need to offer him a treat and he’ll cooperate. Won’t you, Kacchan?”

Deku’s thumbs rubbed soothing circles into Bakugou’s forearms, the gesture completely at odds with his words. More tears flowed in the teen’s utter desperation, falling onto Deku’s -- Izuku’s -- thighs.

That’s right. Izuku. Izuku. And Shouto. Be good.

Bakugou shakily nodded, hoping that would be enough for the boys, but Shouto squeezed just a little at Bakugou’s dick as a warning.

“Not good enough. Time to practice saying something polite with that dirty mouth of yours.” Bakugou whined high in his throat.

“I -- I will, Izuku. I’ll be good, so good --”

He couldn’t even finish his thought before he was moaning and moaning as Shouto dragged his fist tightly up Bakugou’s length, and the friction was so good and he needed, he needed more right now and the only thing going through his mind was yes yes more please please and turns out his mouth was actually saying those words because Izuku leaned down once more to swallow up his pleading voice in a wet kiss. And Shouto’s hand kept moving and squeezing and his thumb was doing amazing things and Bakugou could feel his eyes rolling back into his head as he shuddered with absolute wanton pleasure, and the wave inside his gut just kept building and there was absolutely no way he could last but now Shouto was doing something else. He could feel his hand rubbing at his lower abdomen, almost had half a thought to be embarrassed by how slippery it had gotten with all the precome weeping from him but Shouto was wiping it up and away. . . no, down?

Bakugou’s lips and hands were still captured by Izuku so he couldn’t look down but he could feel Shouto shuffling backwards just a bit, downwards just a bit without letting up on his right hand’s pace on Bakugou’s dick. When Izuku began trailing his kisses elsewhere -- up his cheeks, his eyelids, his jaw -- Bakugou raised his head but couldn’t make anything out through his bleary blinks. His moans were becoming continuous and ever louder, voice breaking as he bonelessly flopped back down onto Izuku’s lap.

“Kaaaachann,” Izuku sang between the chaste presses of his lips, “Shoucchan knows how to make you feel good. But only if you’re nice for him. What do you say, Kacchan?”

There was a moment of complete confusion for Bakugou while he tried to parse Izuku’s words with his mind working at about a mile an hour -- but a sudden pressure right under his dick made him jump. Shouto’s finger tapped there and trailed still lower, right down to the tight ring of muscle Bakugou had been trying to ignore for the past two weeks. He didn’t press, not hard, but gently circled it, waiting for an answer.

“Pl-please?”

“Now, Kacchan, you can do better than that. What are you? What are we doing for you?”

“I -- I’m selfish, a-and greedy, and you’re p-punishing me. . . B-but please, please it hurts, I need it, I need . . . I’ll do a-anything, just please --”

“Please what, Kacchan?”

Bakugou shook his head, a fresh wave of tears streaming down his cheeks. His mouth tried to work around words but only needy, half-broken whimpers came out. Izuku frowned but Shouto grunted in reply, apparently satisfied with his begging for now since the very tip of his finger worked its way through Bakugou’s entrance ever so slightly.

A full-body jolt ripped through Bakugou, almost loosening Izuku’s hold on his arms. Shouto’s finger pressed in more and more, finally seating his palm against Bakugou’s ass, and the blonde’s whimpers rose again to a steady wail. As more fluid leaked from Bakugou’s cock and down to Shouto’s hand the taller boy was able to wiggle around, pull out, and shove back in until Bakugou’s strained voice reached unprecedented octaves. He was absolutely thrashing now, trying to get any kind of friction from either side.

So Shouto indulged him. Adjusting his grip, he sped up the pace on Bakugou’s dick while thrusting his finger in and out with as much force as he could give. Bakugou’s fists clenched and unclenched, trying to grip something, anything, while his eyes lost focus on Izuku’s face just above him and he could feel a line of drool running down his chin but he couldn’t even care because tidal waves were crashing down around him and building and he couldn’t breathe except he was shouting and begging and “yesyesyesyes fuck yes please yes fuckfuckfuck I can’t I’m so close I ca -- aahh ah can’t, I’m, fuck I’m so, oh god f-fuck --”

And when Izuku leaned down right by his ear and breathed, “Good boy. You can come now,” Bakugou was lost.

His mind couldn’t register anything but black dots clouding his vision and the most intense ripple of fire and lightning through his body he’d ever felt. Every muscle tensed as he shot length after length of hot come, some of it landing on his face, most of it on his chest -- and Shouto kept on squeezing, wringing him absolutely dry until he spasmed and keened from overstimulation. Heavy breaths wracked his chest and aftershocks sent shudders through his legs, and when Shouto retracted his finger a tiny sob escaped him.

A long exhale deflated Bakugou’s chest as he sagged in Izuku’s lap, eyes fluttering shut. After two weeks of absolutely nothing, the teen’s body felt entirely spent.

Unfortunately for him, Izuku and Shouto had other plans. They let their trembling victim have about half a minute of peace before Izuku peeled his hands away from his forearms and slid back, letting Bakugou’s head fall onto the mattress. A small groan of annoyance left the spikey-haired boy’s throat, which quickly turned into a yelp of surprise as both Izuku and Shouto flipped him onto his stomach. Shouto wrenched his pants the rest of the way off his legs and Izuku wouldn’t even let him raise his head, keeping a firm hand on the back of his head so his nose was buried in the tangled blankets.

Bakugou tried kicking out with his legs, but Shouto quickly kneeled over them so his ankles were trapped under his shins. When Bakugou’s arms shot out to try clawing Izuku’s hand off his head, Shouto caught both hands at the middle of his back before Izuku’s free hand cinched his wrists together. Bakugou almost squealed in fear, unable to make any other noise with his face pressed into the bed. He wriggled in their grip, already feeling himself start to fill out again at being manhandled so easily.

It took Bakugou’s sluggish post-orgasm brain a good moment or two before he realized Izuku was cooing softly at him.

“. . . Didn’t think we were done, did you? Kacchan, your punishment hasn’t even started yet. Settle down now, shh, it’s okay, Kacchan, we’ll be gentle. . .”

Shouto’s hands were suddenly mysteriously absent from Bakugou’s skin, and he could hear some shuffling and a clicking noise before they returned to his backside, somehow much slipperier than before. The boy’s entire peripheral vision had been reduced to the sheets in front of his nose and a blurry view of the far corner of his dorm room, and every breath he took was a squeak of apprehension as he braced himself for the unseen.

Shouto wasted no time in hoisting Bakugou’s bare hips up in the air and kicking his knees apart before re-inserting his finger into the shamefully exposed ass in front of him. A high keen turned into a muffled cry as he went ahead and added a second finger, scissoring and curling them into the tight heat. Bakugou wiggled hopelessly as they probed the inside of him as if they were searching for something, reaching deeper and deeper untilOHGODFUCK.

An electric wire was pulled taught in Bakugou’s spine, frying him, like something starting at Shouto’s fingertips aligned with the base of his skull and a shock burst through him, whiting out his sight and leaving afterimages that sparked at the edge of his vision. Izuku redoubled his hold on his wrists as tiny pops left Bakugou's palms and his back lurched and shoulders rolled forward so he could scream into his sheets.

A moment of silence followed before Shouto chuckled darkly and murmured, seemingly to himself, “Found it.”

Then he pressed in again.

The second drag across that spot was no less sharp than the first, and Bakugou took a mouthful of blankets in his teeth so he wouldn’t shriek like he did the first time. Needless to say his dick had already gotten the message and was hanging heavy again between his legs, forming a small puddle beneath it.

Izuku continued singing sweet nothings to him as Shouto pressed in and out and in again and Bakugou was absolutely sure he couldn’t hold on any longer, ass swaying and thighs shaking and straining to spread more than they were used to to give Shouto more room and then he added a third finger and the burn of the stretch made Bakugou’s hips stutter and his voice catch in his throat when he tried to moan but choked. Izuku finally let up his hold in Bakugou’s hair, the boy too boneless to lift himself up anyway, and caressed the back of his neck as he whispered just relax, Kacchan, we’ve got you, and eventually Shouto could slide his fingers forward just as smoothly as before and it was just so, so much.

Another whimper escaped Bakugou as Shouto removed his fingers yet again and the blonde found himself clenching at nothing. But his mind couldn’t focus on anything tangible, didn’t register the slight rip of something plastic behind him and Shouto adjusting himself yet again before a completely foreign something was pressing lightly at his entrance. He jumped a little in surprise, hesitated for a second as he realized it could only be Shouto’s actual dick, but then it felt so warm and he felt so empty and he wanted it and he started whining again, pressing back against it as much as he could with Izuku’s hands still gripping his wrists at his back.

Shouto’s breath was scorching on his neck as the boy spoke. “This time, you have to use your words.

Bakugou tried but only succeeded in a muffled “fffh mmh” before he turned his head so he could actually open his mouth. “Sh-Shouto, please f-fuck me. . .” as soon as he finished his thought it evaporated into heavy panting.

But thank God Shouto seemed to get the idea and slightly, slowly, pushed in.

A long, breathless moan pushed its way out of Bakugou’s chest as an indescribable heat flooded into him. He could just feel the head of Shouto’s cock and it was big and hot and Shouto was still leaning into him and he could feel every inch of it as the taller boy filled him up more than he could have ever imagined. Bakugou’s mouth went completely slack, tongue lolling out and eyes closing in utter ecstasy.

And yet that still wasn’t the end of it, Bakugou discovered as Izuku released his wrists only to have them taken again by Shouto. Once he was totally bottomed out in Bakugou’s ass, he wrenched the blonde’s arms back to pull him off the mattress. Bakugou’s back arched as he was forced to sit a little deeper on Shouto’s dick, and when his eyelids tore themselves open he found himself dangerously close to Izuku’s crotch. He swallowed and looked up into Izuku’s face, which was surprisingly flush as if the freckled boy had been enjoying the show almost as much as Bakugou. His brows were furrowed, eyes half mast and lips parted as little sighs escaped him. One hand rested on Bakugou’s shoulder, tense from being pulled back by Shouto’s grasp, while the other snaked down to unzip his pants.

Shouto hadn’t exactly started moving inside of Bakugou yet, apparently waiting for Izuku as he released himself from his underwear and let his warm length rest on Bakugou’s cheek. The two hadn’t broken eye contact yet -- both swimming in a drunken pleasure and anchoring themselves in each other’s gaze -- so Bakugou looked Izuku in the eye as he dipped his tongue out to lap softly at the side of his dick.

All three of them moaned at the same time; Bakugou suddenly felt restless, feeling Shouto twitch inside his ass. He wiggled his hips impatiently as he licked again at Izuku, caught up in the scent of his childhood friend and rival. Finally, Shouto began inching out.

He paused once more when only the tip of his length rested inside of Bakugou -- before snapping his hips forward and tugging harshly on Bakugou’s arms so his dick slammed home again. Bakugou shouted, cheek resting on Izuku’s thigh and letting a wetness that could’ve been his tears or his spit or Izuku’s precome smear across his skin. He felt so filthy and used as Izuku’s free hand threaded through his hair and gently guided him back to his cock. He'd never hurt so good in his life. He laved at Izuku’s dick, moans still spilling from him as Shouto rammed into him at a burning pace, using his grip on Bakugou’s arms as leverage.

Gaining confidence, Bakugou suckled at the head a bit before daring to sink down onto it, letting the momentum from Shouto’s thrusts direct his mouth. It felt warm and sat heavy on Bakugou’s tongue and if he had felt full before, he was positively stuffed now. Izuku’s head fell backwards and Bakugou let his eyes close again, relishing in the stretch of his jaw and the sting in his shoulders.

When Shouto changed his angle and hit that place inside Bakugou again it hit him with blistering intensity that he need to come, badly. He tried voicing this but only succeeded in whining obscenely around Izuku’s dick, making the other boy shiver in pleasure. Tears continued running down Bakugou’s cheeks and he couldn’t breathe with his nose buried in Izuku’s belly, and somehow the dick in his mouth swelled up even more and hit the back of his throat and he gagged, throat constricting painfully and he didn’t want to pull off it felt so goddamn good. But Izuku tugged on his hair and he had to release it to suck in a breath before he licked around it with renewed intensity, his pace completely out of sync with Shouto, and when he sank back down around Izuku he wanted it in his throat, wanted to choke and he wanted Izuku and Shouto to be his downfall.

“Ka -- ah -- acchan, I’m going to. . . I think I’m gonna come. . . i-is that okay. . .?” the fingers in Bakugou’s hair had no strength in them, only resting there harmlessly and Izuku’s head had lolled forward again to look at Bakugou. The blonde beneath him channeled as much determination as he could into his eyes, bobbing his head with a fervor that could only be read as, Do it. Do it, I fucking dare you.

A soft moan worked its way into Izuku’s sighs, his hips rocking forward to meet Bakugou’s lips. The first wave of warmth that flooded Bakugou’s mouth took him by surprise despite the warning and he accidentally pulled back, letting the rest of it spill onto his face and Izuku’s fist urgently tugged at his dick to finish himself off. He could feel it dripping down the bridge of his nose, over his left cheek and down his chin onto the bed. He could taste it on his tongue, and it was salty and bitter and slimy and he couldn’t help but stick his tongue out to try to catch the last of it as Izuku milked himself dry.

As Izuku came down from his high, he stroked Bakugou’s cheek affectionately, flashing him a confident grin that Bakugou would’ve growled at if his ass wasn’t still getting rammed by Shouto. He could only blink heavily and drop his head to moan against the sheets, shoulders on fire from their position.

Just as Bakugou was getting used to the relentless speed of Shouto’s thrusts, the boy behind him pulled all the way out before grabbing his hips and flipping him onto his back. The sudden turn dizzied Bakugou and he flailed with his newly released arms to try to find something to hold onto. Shouto threw a leg around one of Bakugou’s and pulled the other up to hook over his shoulder, bracing it with one hand while he steadied his dick with the other in order to slide back into Bakugou. They were locked together at a 90-degree angle now, Shouto’s pelvis fitting perfectly in Bakugou’s spread thighs.

In this position Shouto could just piston right into the teen, hitting the bundle of nerves inside of him over and over and Bakugou was shouting again, absolutely babbling with pleas and prayers that were only partly discernable.

Fuck fuck fuck aaaaaahh ah ah God fuck I need to -- fuck I need -- I need to come so bad, please please I need it, I’ve been so good, please I’ve been so, so good --”

“Yes, yes, Kacchan’s been good for Shouto and me,” cooed Izuku, “we’ll let you come, baby, can you ask properly? Say, ‘please let me come, Shouto.’ Say that for us.”

Shouto didn’t slow his pace one bit while Izuku was talking. If anything, he sped up until Bakugou was wailing and reaching for Izuku behind him just to be able to hold something, and Izuku mercifully took his hand and squeezed it.

“Pl -- p-please, haah, let me come, Shouto. . .”

Shouto leaned forward, bending Bakugou’s leg back until it touched his heaving chest. The slap of skin on skin resounded in the room while Shouto hovered nose-to-nose with Bakugou, smirking.

“Anything for our Katsuki.”

And with that, he reached down to take Bakugou’s length in his fist and began working it faster than his pace in Bakugou’s ass. And Bakugou had already been so close and now he was convulsing, back arching and fingers wrenching Izuku’s in their hold and he had never been so high in his entire life. All he could see was spots of colors behind his eyelids and all he could hear was his own wrecked sobs and Shouto’s soft grunts as he plowed into him again and again. More warmth spilled onto his chest and stomach and he couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t come down from this peak and he could only whimper through spasm after spasm until his spent dick stopped pulsing.

Shouto lasted a couple seconds longer, panting into Bakugou’s ear as his speed faltered and he finally buried himself as deep as he could into the other’s tightness. Bakugou could feel his relieved breath on his neck as the member inside of him throbbed once, twice, and finally rested.

They lay there for a bit, trying to regain their breath after what felt like running a marathon.

“. . . Breathe.”

Bakugou’s voice was so hoarse neither Izuku nor Shouto heard him at first. Shouto reluctantly raised his head from where he had rested it in the crook of Bakugou’s neck.

“What?”

“Can’t breathe.”

“Oh.” Shouto blinked and shakily raised himself up on his elbows, releasing a groan from the boy beneath him. “Sorry.” Reaching down, he removed the condom he had slipped on before, knotted it, and tossed it into the trash can beside the bed.

“How are you feeling?” Izuku piped up, petting Bakugou’s hair back from his damp forehead. The blonde’s eyes were closed, eyebrows furrowed.

“. . . Sticky.” Izuku breathed a laugh at that, beaming at Shouto contentedly. Bakugou cracked one eye open and grimaced. “What’re you giggling about?”

“Nothing. Sorry we ruined your bed.”

“It’s whatever.”

“. . . Do you want us to help clean you up?”

Izuku was toeing a line here, and Bakugou’s hackles raised.

“I’m not a fucking baby. I can clean myself up.” With much effort, he rolled Shouto’s listless body off his own and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Wow, his ass hurt. Scowling, he planted his feet, stood -- wobbled -- and fell right back down onto the mattress, pretty much right into Izuku’s waiting arms.

“Katsuki.”

Shouto’s voice was soft but clear. Nice and pronounced, all three syllables. Bakugou raised his eyebrows at the name. “This isn’t because we feel bad. It’s because we want to.” Izuku nodded. Bakugou blushed.

“I mean, if you’re really that into it,” he muttered, looking away, “knock yourselves out, I guess.”

Five minutes later Izuku had gotten Bakugou situated on his bed (which was still messy but not covered in various fluids) and Shouto had fished out a spare washrag from the bedside drawer. He sat on the edge of the mattress, ignoring Bakugou’s complaints of “why they didn’t just go to the goddamn showers downstairs,” and held the rag in his right hand. As Bakugou watched, he bloomed the smallest rose of ice in his palm, over the rag. The blonde squinted skeptically but before he could voice his confusion Shouto passed the rag over to his left palm, where it immediately began steaming and shrinking into the fabric. In a few seconds he was left with a warm, damp towelette that he used to start wiping the leftover slick from Bakugou’s neck and chest.

Bakugou’s eyes practically bulged from his head as he looked back and forth between Izuku and Shouto as if to ask, fucking seriously? A deep blush flooded Izuku’s face and he looked away bashfully to murmur, “Took us a couple tries before we found out he could just do that instead of trying to use the dorm bathrooms.”

Shouto said nothing. Bakugou was mercifully silent for a few moments before an amused snort escaped him.

“Oh, my fucking God,” he said. “You bastard, you’re literally a walking sauna. Fuck you.”

Both Izuku and Shouto blinked at him in complete surprise before turning to look at each other to see if they heard that right, because was that affection they just detected in Bakugou’s voice? Was post-coital Bakugou an agreeable Bakugou? Neither of the two boys could keep their self-satisfied grins off their faces.

Bakugou’s eyebrows furrowed again with suspicion and he waggled an accusing finger at them. “Oi. What just happened there. Tell me what just passed between your two nerd brains.”

Kacchaaann,” Izuku sang as he bounced over to the bed (much too enthusiastic for Bakugou’s liking) and tossed himself onto it, “let us sleep here tonight. I’m too tired to go back to my own room.”

“That sounds like a load of bullshit.”

“It’s true,” Shouto offered with a dead monotone. “You’re exhausting.”

Bakugou gaped at him before wordlessly yelling in indignation. “Wh-what the fuck? You two losers were the ones who came here in the first place --”

“Yeah, yeah, but when did Kacchan ever object?” Izuku waved him away sleepily. “I mean, after you found out why we came.” A sly smile worked its way up his cheeks as he scooted closer to Bakugou, wrapping his arms around his middle. He pulled his way up to rest his chin on the other’s shoulder so he could whisper right into his ear, “You know, ‘fuck, ah, I need it, please let me come, Shouto,’ and all that.”

Shouto barked a laugh when a wave of crimson surged into Bakugou’s cheeks and he shoved off the giggling freckled boy to dive under his sheets. Izuku didn’t let up, petting through the spikey locks sticking up from the covers.

“Aawww, Kacchan, don’t be like that. Can we please stay?”

A muffled growl rose from the blankets that could’ve been indistinct grumbling or could’ve been something like “Do whatever you want, you fucks.

Izuku and Shouto shared one last gratified look before the latter leaned over to switch the bedside lamp off and the two snuggled up to the grouchy lump of blankets and pillows at the center of the bed, throwing their arms over it to link together.

Several minutes passed with no sound in the room except steady breathing and the occasional shuffle as three teenage boys tried to squeeze into one twin sized bed. The campus lights outside the building cast a soft golden glow through the window, cloaking their figures in a comfortable warmth as they shifted closer together, Shouto’s legs tangled together with Bakugou’s and Izuku’s nose snug against the back of Bakugou’s neck.

Finally Izuku spoke, almost quiet enough to get lost in the faint sounds of the night.

“Kacchan, you know, I’ve noticed you really care about everyone. You try to hide it, but the other day, with Denki? You were mad because he put himself in danger so your team could win. That was it, wasn’t it?”

No answer. Shouto’s fingers squeezed Izuku’s where they were intertwined across Bakugou’s figure. Izuku planted a gentle kiss against Bakugou’s neck.

“You don’t have to be scared to care about other people. We care about you, too. Goodnight, Kacchan.”

He still received no reply, and finally closed his eyes to sleep. Shouto soon followed.

Bakugou’s eyes were wide open under the covers, but they didn’t need to know that.

Chapter Text

Weeks pass.

It took a little while for Todoroki, Deku, and Bakugou to build up any sort of routine but it went a little like this: Todoroki and Deku ambush Bakugou after hours to get their fill of him — sometimes managing to convince him to stay with them post-coitus, sometimes not. Bakugou is unable to look the two in the eye in the following hours of the day. Todoroki and Deku keep their distance so as not to upset Bakugou. Bakugou eventually gets upset anyway because he wants attention but doesn’t know how to ask for it. Todoroki and Deku take the initiative to appease Bakugou with sex before he wastes the entire campus.

Rinse and repeat.

All three of them knew this kind of pattern wasn’t sustainable; especially Bakugou. Communication was not his strong point, and the other two seemed content to work with the fact that he was never going to be able to swallow his dignity enough to explicitly ask them for what he wanted, but it could only be so long before that wasn’t enough anymore. The teen was practically waiting for the day Todoroki and Deku lost their seemingly infinite patience with him. Waiting made him anxious. Anxiety stressed him out. And Bakugou didn’t deal with stress very gracefully.

Rinse. And. Repeat.

These were all problems, obviously. The biggest problem, however, didn’t make itself apparent at first.

In one of the few purely research activities the class 1-A students were assigned in their senior year, they were all required to team up in groups of three. The objective was simple; find and correlate the emergences of various villains in the last few decades to whatever heroes were popular at a particular time. Just an exercise in public opinion versus effective hero deployment. Bakugou didn’t know why Aizawa-sensei bothered to have them form groups — he could figure easy shit like this out on his own, no problem.

The grouchy teen sighed heavily as he swung around in his seat towards Kirishima, who sat behind him — only to see that the redhead was already chatting excitedly with Denki and Mina. Bakugou blinked once, twice, mouth falling open slightly. He had been expecting Mina to have flounced over to Ojiro and Hagakure, but it seemed Denki had beckoned her over to their table eagerly.

What the fuck? At least Kirishima had the dignity to smile sheepishly over at Bakugou, who was debating whether or not to climb on the desk and proclaim his best friend as his partner to the entire fucking classroom.

Bakugou grumbled to himself as he propped his elbow on the back of his chair, scanning over the rest of the classroom to find any group that might have an opening. Jirou had joined Tokoyami and Sero, while Tsuyu and Ochako were inviting Iida into their pair. Yaoyorozu was pointedly ignoring a drooling Mineta while she partnered with Kota and Sato. Bakugou found himself cringing as his window of opportunity grew smaller and smaller. If he had to pair with a couple of pathetic losers because of some traitorous, pointy-toothed freak, he’d flip.

“Kacchan!”

Bakugou nearly choked on his next inhale as a bright voice sounded from right in front of his desk. He spun around to face Deku and Todoroki as they stood over him, Deku clutching his notebook to his chest and beaming at him with such sincerity Bakugou almost had to shield his eyes. “Are you partnered with anyone?” The freckled boy continued, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Shoucchan and I could use a third person. What do you say?”

Shoucchan knows how to make you feel good. But only if you’re nice for him. What do you say, Kacchan?

Bakugou’s breath squeaked on its way out. He looked up at his classmates, struck a little bit dumb by their proposal. Wasn’t their. . . arrangement. . . supposed to be a secret? Why did they want to hang out with him in any other situation?

“You want to. . . team up? With me?” Bakugou found himself narrowing his eyes. “Willingly?”

Deku blinked at him before turning to look at Todoroki, who furrowed his brows. They both seemed pretty taken aback by the question. Deku turned back to him to say, “. . . Yes?” and the same time that Todoroki said, “You’re a top student in the class, Katsuki.”

Still, though. Bakugou couldn’t understand why they would choose to work with him when it’d been so difficult in the past. He tried to hide his confusion by frowning and leaning back in his seat in a way he hoped appeared nonchalant.

“Yeah, sure. Not like I have much choice, anyway.”

“Great!” Undeterred by the blonde’s aloofness, Deku gestured to Todoroki and the boys pulled up two chairs to Bakugou’s table. To nobody’s surprise, Deku immediately reached into his backpack to pull out what looked like the largest textbook Bakugou had ever seen, titled Good vs. Evil: A Comparative Analysis of Top Heroes and Their Nemeses Through the Ages.

As the textbook slammed home on the wooden surface of the desk, Bakugou and Todoroki exchanged knowing glances. Because of course this fucking nerd would. Before Bakugou caught himself he was smirking fondly along with Todoroki at Deku’s unabashed enthusiasm for coursework.

“Where to start, where to start. . .” Deku mumbled, flipping through the table of contents. Todoroki leaned forward on his elbows to look across Deku’s shoulder. Bakugou was very close to doing the same, but it was almost like a leash latched itself around his neck, pulling him back. What, did he think he was part of their squad now? Was he welcome into their little bubble just because they had decided he was worth their time to fuck?

Bakugou’s confidence faltered.

“It seems like villains have been acting as counterparts to specific heroes since they were first established,” said Todoroki. He had pretty much settled for resting his cheek lightly on Deku’s head, coolly reading through the introducing passages like blatant PDA was no big deal. That was a crazy concept to imagine. Casually resting your head in a mop of soft curls in the middle of an assignment, still able to think about schoolwork when the smell of your boyfriend’s conditioner was all around you.

Was that just something Bakugou would never be able to have?

He tried to form an image of him acting all domestic and lovey-dovey with some blankfaced loser and instantly felt nauseous. Yeah, better leave that shit to the nerds.

But if he imagined Todoroki on his side of the table, if Bakugou was the one with the book and both boys were leaning into his space. . .

Bakugou suddenly felt sick for entirely different reasons. His heartbeat was practically rattling his entire chest, each throb much more painful than the last. This. . . didn’t seem good. In the slightest.

He shook his head, trying to focus.

“Well, obviously they’d think of themselves as counterparts,” he said, scowling. “The best way to get attention is to find something everybody’s rooting for, then pick something directly against it. You barely have to make a fuckin’ statement before you’re reaping the crowd opposite.”

Deku and Todoroki considered him for a long moment.

“So, you’re saying we should start by finding what political statements each top Pro Hero endorsed?” Deku asked. “Besides their rescue efforts?” Todoroki nodded, eyebrows raised.

“That’s clever. We could start from Super Ranger vs. Des. Passito and go chronologically,” he suggested.

“Yes, but it might also be a good idea to start with recent incidents and work backwards. . .” And so they began scribbling down various notes in their books. Turns out one hero was actually a huge donor to a major pipeline institution that had been threatening the hometown of a young woman who had decided to bring light to the cause by forming an evil alter-ego. In another case, a hero had been advocating for the release of a control group of birds into the wild of the entire Kyoto region — and that hero’s arch-nemesis was simply trying to protect an endangered species, of which the hero’s birds were a considerable predator.

Too many names, too many dates.

As Deku turned to face Todoroki to make a point, Bakugou found himself falling into another daze, trailing his gaze between each freckle dotting the boy’s skin. He’d finally lost some of the more stubborn baby fat in his face over the past couple years, but his cheeks still kept that blushy, cheerful roundness that pushed his eyes up into a bright squint when he smiled. Which was most of the time. But at times like right now, when his eyebrows drew a tiny line in his forehead and his lower lip puckered out just a bit — that meant he was completely focused, giving 100% of his concentration to the problem at hand.

None of this was news to Bakugou. He had been looking at his friend’s face for over a decade. So why did his heart feel like it was ballooning inside his chest? That was entirely unusual. It was like if Bakugou took a breath that was the slightest bit too deep, he’d just float away. He swallowed, frowning at himself. This was really fucking weird.

“Kacchan? Are you listening?”

Bakugou snapped his head back up to the two boys on the other side of his desk, both watching him expectantly. Deku’s eyes were wide and curious, as usual — Todoroki’s were narrowed in interest. Bakugou cleared his throat nervously.

“Uh, yeah. I was. Of course I was.” Deku cocked his head in that obnoxiously endearing way of his, so Bakugou tacked on a “Dumbass.” For good measure.

Todoroki huffed in annoyance, drawing a guilty look from the blonde. He hated it when Bakugou insulted his boyfriend. For good reason, dipshit, supplied Bakugou’s endlessly helpful Fuck-Up-O-Meter. Bakugou was probably going to pay for that comment later. Not wanting to push it, he let his head fall onto his notebook. Why had they even wanted to pair with him in the first place? Yeah, he was one of the top students, but if they thought he would be able to concentrate with them around they were dead fucking wrong.

Fortunately, Deku decided to spare him any more grief and went back to summarizing their latest comparison, albeit a little unsure. Bakugou couldn’t bring himself to raise his head again so he just let his chin rest on the desk, listening to Deku’s voice. God, even that welcomed too many thoughts into his head. His voice was so bouncy and melodic; even though he had started off quiet for Bakugou’s sake the excitement he felt for this assignment eventually worked its way back into his words. He was so lively about everything, it was almost cartoonishly adorable.

And there went Bakugou’s heart again. Swelling up to his ribcage with every passing beat. Feeling short of breath, Bakugou got to his feet.

“Gotta piss.”

With that, Bakugou excused himself from the classroom, leaving Deku and Todoroki to look at each other in confusion before watching his retreat.

Removing himself from the situation seemed to help a bit, at least giving his lungs enough room to take a full breath. Bakugou heaved a shuddering sigh as he hauled the door open to the men’s bathroom. Just a couple minutes alone, and he would be fine. He’d be fine.

Or, y’know, his piece of shit brain could recall every freckle he’d been staring at earlier as if he wanted to acknowledge how much he wanted to kiss over them. Or that blinding smile that came with a soft yet animated voice that struck Bakugou breathless whether it was whispering in his ear or gushing about a new hero that had come on the news that morning.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

He had had sex with this guy. Many, many times. What was he making such a big deal for?

Bakugou groaned as he ran his hands over his heated face before turning to a sink — and subsequently catching sight of himself in the mirror.

Goddamn. Who the fuck was he looking at? It looked like his face, almost, but flushed with a ruddy red that melted all the way down to his neck. His eyebrows pinched upward and the corners of his mouth were quirked as if his face couldn’t decide if it wanted to grimace at himself or break out into a giant, goofy-ass grin. His eyes were — fuck, they looked like those dumb motherfuckers he would make fun of from those romantic comedies his mom used to watch. Wide, shining, dopey.

Fucking disgusting. Bakugou swore loudly before violently wrenching the faucet on, letting icy water spurt into the sink, and ducking his head under the flow. The cold brought him back to his senses somewhat. He stayed there for a few minutes, letting the blood drain from his head as the water ran over his face.

He only turned the water off when the door to the bathroom creaked open again as someone else stepped inside. Bakugou kept his head down, not wanting to deal with seeing anyone else at the moment.

“Katsuki.”

That made Bakugou whip his head up, surprised to find Todoroki watching him a few steps away. He stood with his hand braced on a cocked hip, looking generally displeased and very exasperated. Bakugou swallowed, guessing that lecture he’d been expecting was about to come a lot sooner than he’d hoped. Water slid from his hair down his throat.

Todoroki wasn’t in the mood to wait for Bakugou to speak. “It’d be much easier to continue this project with all three of us present. Are you going to help?”

As much as Bakugou hated disappointing Todoroki, he couldn’t help but itch just a little at that commanding tone of voice.

This time, you have to use your words.

He dropped his gaze, finding it difficult to meet that unsettling pair of frigid blue and warm brown eyes. Now was really, really not the time to get turned on.

“Y-yeah. I’m coming.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Sorry.”

“Is something wrong, Katsuki?” Todoroki stepped closer. His words were curious but his attitude was impatient. And Bakugou could not get used to the way he said his name even in public. He braced his hand on the sink, not letting himself take a step back.

“No, I’m fucking fine, alright?” Wrong, just shut up now. “‘S just a headache.”

One disbelieving eyebrow migrated right to Todoroki’s hairline and he took another one, two, three steps towards Bakugou, getting right up in his space. Bakugou reeled back, too late to stop the raised hand that placed itself solidly on his forehead, brushing his bangs back. The blonde blinked at the surprisingly comfortable coolness that crept into him, much more pleasant than the tap water he’d just dunked himself in. He found himself frozen, stuck between ducking away and leaning into Todoroki’s soft touch. After a couple dumb blinks he opted for the latter, against all better judgement. A long exhale left his chest, unbidden.

“Mm. You do feel pretty warm,” Todoroki murmured. The low rumble of his voice had Bakugou tearing his eyes from the bathroom tiles to return his gaze and fucking Christ he wasn’t prepared for him to be so close. He could practically count the boy’s eyelashes, find every wrinkle in his scarred flesh, feel the slight breath escaping his barely parted lips. Bakugou’s hands almost lifted of their own volition to run shaky fingers over his high cheekbones, down his sharp jaw. He clenched two fists in his pants to promptly neutralize that train of thought — but it couldn’t stop his traitorous eyes from tracing over every detail of his face.

Todoroki was. . . fuck, he really was pretty.

And still staring him down, no change whatsoever in his deadpan expression. Despite the cool hand on his forehead Bakugou could feel another surge of heat crashing into his cheeks. He felt his mouth twisting into a scowl, already searching for some scathing, untrue insult that would make Todoroki step away from him. He just needed to get away

But Todoroki, who had plenty of practice shutting Bakugou Katsuki up before he even spoke, simply slid his hand down over the blonde’s eyes, covering them. At once all possible comments flew from Bakugou’s head as his vision was entirely eclipsed.

“What are you doing.” It wasn’t voiced like a question.

“Izuku and I can tell when you want to freak out, but it’s not like we can read your mind,” Todoroki said, calm but forbidding. “Don’t disrespect people just because you don’t know how to communicate like a normal person. That’s stupid.”

Bakugou felt his chest and shoulders deflate. Oh, here it is, his Fuck-Up-O-Meter cackled. They don’t want anything to do with you anymore. That’s fine. You deserve it.

“I know.” Bakugou’s voice was too quiet. He was tired. He took a breath, concentrated on the face he couldn’t see. “I know. Fuck. I’m sorry. I’ll — I’ll try harder.”

A beat of silence followed before Todoroki’s face slid back into view, his cool palm slipping away from Bakugou’s eyes. The taller boy’s gaze was much softer than before, and Bakugou knew how his own face must have looked: raw, anxious. Vulnerable. He wanted Todoroki’s hand back, to hide behind it again. It was easier when he couldn’t see that tenderness so wrongfully meant for him.

The question he had asked himself before resurfaced inside of him. What the fuck was wrong with him? Todoroki wasn’t his in the slightest, could never be when he had someone else with so much good in him — but for just one second, just one weak inhale, Bakugou let himself want it.

Todoroki carefully brushed Bakugou’s bangs back into place before turning back towards the door.

“Meet you back in the classroom,” he called over his shoulder. As he opened the door, he looked back pointedly at Bakugou. Waiting.

“Y-yeah. Right.” Bakugou gestured weakly as he turned back towards the sink.

Todoroki nodded one last time before letting the door swing shut behind him, leaving Bakugou in merciful silence.

 

Deku smiled graciously at him when he finally returned to the desk. If he had been concerned about where the grouch had wandered off to, he didn’t let it show, instead diving right back into the project. The rest of the class went by slowly, Bakugou doing little besides trying to keep his heart rate at a reasonable pace. Every now and then he would nod along to a point Deku made, or halfheartedly answer a question from Todoroki, but for the most part he was pretty much useless. That was fine. Bakugou couldn’t bring himself to care.

The blonde would’ve missed the bell signaling the end of the research period if it wasn’t for Todoroki and Deku jumping to pack all their stuff away.

“Kacchan? Do you want to continue this later?” Deku bent sideways at the hip to duck his head into Bakugou’s field of vision, trying to get his attention. “You and Shoucchan can hang out in my room later so we can study.”

It took another second or two for Bakugou to process what the guy was saying. His green eyes were practically sparkling, and every time his lips moved it was like Bakugou’s fantasies became sentient and physically punched the coherent thoughts from his head.

“Kacchan?” Deku pressed, leaning in closer to knock their heads lightly together. “Do you want to study?”

It might’ve been the physical contact or the suggestive implication of his words but Bakugou’s brain finally screeched into the station.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure, definitely.” He mumbled, sweeping his stuff into his backpack and climbing to his feet. Why couldn’t he even manage to conjure up some sort of retort that would’ve kept his dignity intact? He could feel his nearby classmates bracing for an outburst that never came. Huffing with irritation mostly directed at himself, Bakugou shoved past Deku and into the hallway.

* * *

At nine-o’clock in the evening Bakugou found himself standing outside Deku’s dorm room. After the class’ gym session earlier he had washed and changed into a black tank top and grey sweatpants, foregoing socks and shoes because it was late and the carpet was soft. He wiggled his toes in the matting as he wrestled with himself, working up the courage to knock.

Which didn’t make any fucking sense. He’d been here before. They’d all had sex in each one of their rooms, this wasn’t a new fucking occurrence. Still, Bakugou found himself sweating in anticipation.

After a couple minutes the blonde angrily ran his hands through his unruly hair and rapped heartily on the door. It didn’t take Deku more than a second or so to appear in front of him, hauling it open and sidestepping to wave him inside.

“Kacchan! We were about to go to your room to see if you fell asleep.”

“Yeah, well, I’m fuckin’ here now. Don’t twist your panties, Deku.”

Deku just laughed, closing the door behind him and prancing away to join his boyfriend where he was already sitting on the bed.

“Don’t call me that, Kacchan~” he singsonged innocently, sending a shiver down Bakugou’s spine. Right. Izuku and Shouto.

“Did you bring your notebook, Katsuki?” Asked Shouto. The question took Bakugou by surprise and he was suddenly embarrassed that no, he had in fact totally forgotten to bring his backpack with him. He scratched the back of his neck in what was quickly becoming a nervous tick in these situations.

“Uh, must’a left it back in my room,” he answered meekly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I can, um, go get it if you. . .” As he spoke the other boy couldn’t keep a sly smirk off his face and Izuku turned to smack his arm lightly. The fucker was totally teasing him; all of them knew Bakugou was really only there for one reason. Bakugou glowered, unable to stop that familiar flush from rising into his cheeks and ears. “Or I could just fucking go to bed —"

“Nooo, Kacchan, come back!” Wailed Izuku, leaping back up from the bed. “Shoucchan’s just being mean!” The green haired boy was approaching far too rapidly for Bakugou’s liking and he was only barely able to retrieve his hands from his pockets before Izuku actually hopped on him, wrapping his arms around his neck and locking his ankles at the small of his back. The momentum from the attack sent Bakugou pitching backwards but he caught them both with one foot planted half-a-step back, swaying once before returning upright. He floundered for a second before catching the boy underneath his thighs.

Goddammit, you little shit, you can’t just do that —"

“But you caught me, Kacchan, so it’s okay,” Izuku giggled, leaning back in Bakugou’s arms and patting him coyly on the shoulder. Bakugou opened his mouth to argue but stopped when the boy dipped forward again, letting his arms slide up into the other’s blonde hair. Suspiciously half-lidded emerald eyes locked onto Bakugou’s and their lips brushed as Izuku cooed, “And Kacchan’s so strong. . .

Oh, fuck this little minx.

Bakugou audibly gulped and Izuku grinned triumphantly before melting against his mouth. The hands that were weaved into his hair massaged their way down to hold his face as Izuku immediately deepened the kiss, licking at his lower lip and pulling it between his teeth. A deep groan wrenched itself from Bakugou’s chest and his arms shook, more from restlessness than exertion. Unable to keep the smaller boy aloft, he blindly walked them over to the bed to dump his cargo onto the sheets beside Shouto.

Izuku laughed again as he bounced slightly on the mattress and the bitchass fuck kept his ankles firmly interlocked around Bakugou’s middle, forcing him to topple over as well. The blonde managed to catch himself on his forearms before their faces crashed together in a much less pleasant way than before, and pulled back to growl at him.

“You are really gonna get whooped one day, Izuku,” he spat. He supposed it just went to show how little he scared his rival anymore when another shit-eating grin split his perfectly freckled cheeks, looking much more natural and sexy than it should on such a cute face.

“Please tell me you’re gonna be the one to whip me, Kacchan,” he whined, passionately rolling his hips up into Bakugou’s crotch.

Bakugou’s voice broke on a surprised “ffffffffuuuck” and he let his head drop into the blankets beside Izuku’s neck. It was nice there. Nobody was looking at his face, which must have looked weird as all hell in that moment. And Izuku always smelled nice.

Izuku refused to give him any sort of break, rolling his hips up again and again until Bakugou was arching his back and returning with his own thrusts.

“W-wait —” he breathed out shakily. “Hold on, I don’t —”

Izuku’s motions immediately ceased, although he wiggled a bit with impatience. His arms came up again to wrap around Bakugou’s neck, petting through his hair in that way Izuku knew Bakugou liked.

“What is it?” he whispered.

“Um. . . Tonight. Can I just. . . I don’t really. . .”

“You don’t feel like it?”

Bakugou raised himself up onto his hands, unable to stand looking away from the boy’s face. He had been bracing himself for disappointment, but Izuku’s eyes still sparkled affectionately at him.

I do. I do feel like it. But.

“Yeah.” He swallowed anxiously. Izuku ruffled his hair like he was a kid, not angry in the slightest. He glanced up at Shouto, who was had been watching them with amused interest.

“Well, do you mind if we. . .?”

Bakugou snorted. “Are you kidding? Knock yourselves out. I just. . .”

“Want to watch. That’s fine.” Shouto finished his sentence without blinking, and simply shrugged when Bakugou gaped at him. He motioned for the blonde to come closer, so Bakugou rolled off the smaller boy and found himself pulled directly into Shouto’s lap. Bakugou blanched.

“But I --”

He was cut off by Shouto’s lips in a soft, chaste kiss. Two hands, one warm and one cool, rested on his neck.

“It’s fine, Katsuki.”

Without giving him a chance to object further, Shouto shifted to sit Bakugou against the headboard before moving to Izuku, who welcomed him with open arms and a soft “Shoucchan.”

Bakugou was still reeling while he watched the other two. Why were they both so ready to let him stay? Weren’t they only in this for sex? If Bakugou didn’t feel like it — and oh god he did, he really did — why wouldn’t they just kick him out? It was almost like. . .

Bakugou was so close to hoping that it meant something.

A high whimper interrupted his thoughts as Shouto kneeled between Izuku’s thighs and wiggled a finger into him. An open capsule of lube laid discarded on the floor and both boys had shed their clothes. Shouto was leaning in close to the quivering boy, licking up his neck and murmuring into his ear. God, this was the first time Bakugou was able to fully appreciate the arch of Izuku’s back against the mattress, the muscles in Shouto’s back as his arm worked Izuku open.

“You don’t feel like it?”

That wasn’t a new occurrence, either. There had been nights before where Izuku had been exhausted from training and simply wanted to watch as Shouto wrecked Bakugou.

But directed at him?

Bakugou could have only imagined those words being spoken with an irritated huff, if not a disbelieving snort. But Izuku’s voice was so patient. And kind. And Bakugou had been ready with an explanation: I do feel like it, I promise, you’re like a fucking incubus and I hate it, but your boyfriend is right there and you guys might be fine with that but I’m starting to feel ways I definitely shouldn’t about both of you and I can’t just ignore that while we fuck — but the way Izuku asked that of him, so understanding and sincere, Bakugou didn’t even have to justify himself.

Izuku bit into Shouto’s shoulder as the taller one positioned himself and began pushing inside, slowly. His hands were clutching at Izuku’s hips to steady himself, every muscle tensed and he looked so in control. Bakugou broke into a sweat at the memories of being restrained by him. Izuku was loving it, moaning loud and lovely, tossing his head and running his fingers up Shouto’s biceps. As Shouto began thrusting Bakugou’s eyes were locked onto his thighs and ass, straining in a rhythm that was reducing both him and Izuku to a gasping mess.

It seemed like every movement was natural to the both of them. They didn’t need words, just loving glances and eager nods between the two of them to know exactly what to do and where to do it. Bakugou’s chest felt tight as he watched them.

Shouto’s panting breaths were starting to come closer together as he buried his face in Izuku’s curls. It occured to Bakugou that Shouto probably just really, really liked his boyfriend’s hair. Bakugou could hardly blame him. If only it were acceptable for him to lean into Izuku’s space whenever he felt like it, just to feel those soft waves and drown himself in the fresh scent of his coconut shampoo. If only.

Izuku’s voice broke as his dick pulsed and sent strings of come onto his chest and stomach. Shouto stuttered for a few more beats and finally sat himself as deep as possible into his boyfriend, knees shaking. The two took a few seconds to collect themselves before Izuku was giggling breathlessly, reaching up to Shouto and pulling him down into a lazy kiss. Shouto practically melted into him, drawing his hands from his hips, up his back, under his shoulders. Bakugou was frozen, feeling like he was watching something he wasn't really supposed to see. As if a kiss was more intimate than sex. He averted his eyes, studying an All Might figure on the bedside table.

“Kacchan?”

Bakugou reluctantly slid his gaze back to Izuku and Shouto, who were pulling on their boxers. Izuku beckoned Bakugou sleepily, and for some reason Bakugou didn’t even consider refusing before he was reaching to grab the box of tissues next to the bed and crawling over to help him wipe up. When the last crumpled tissue hit the trash can, Bakugou let his head flop onto Izuku’s chest, feeling the boy hum with contentment as he rested his arms over Bakugou. Shouto unapologetically clambered over them both to lie on the inside of the bed, completing the pile of teens.

Bakugou wasn’t ready for the relentless surge of happiness that rose inside of him as Izuku and Shouto surrounded him, breathing deep and drowsily. His heart was trying to crush his lungs with how much it grew. Bakugou sighed through his nose.

This was really, really bad.

Chapter Text

Bakugou, Izuku, and Shouto got a B+ on their assignment.

Bakugou knew he couldn’t take much credit even though both Izuku and Shouto insisted he’d helped a lot. He’d spent most of the project mooning over two people he knew he’d never be able to have.

Which, yes. Bakugou had come establish with himself. He figured he’d spent the last four years in Denial and Anger -- the past few weeks had seen Bargaining. Since Depression had come and stayed, refusing to move even though Acceptance had busted in as well, Bakugou figured he’d might as well chill in the pit with them.

Bakugou Katsuki was hopelessly in love with Midoriya Izuku and Todoroki Shouto.

A guttural groan escaped him as the thought coursed through his head for the nth time that day, and Bakugou let his head drop straight into the rice bowl in front of him. The rest of the lunch table around him: Mina, Denki, Sero, Kirishima, and Jirou -- quieted in mildly disgusted pity.

“Uh, hey man,” Kirishima said, hesitantly patting his friend on the back. “Look, I know you’re a hardass about your grades, but a B+ is still really good, you know? Our group got a C. Thanks to someone forgetting to research their villains.” The last sentence was delivered with a sharp glance at Denki, who threw his hands up in exasperation.

“I feel like you should know by now that any and all conversations we have before training exercises should also be repeated after. I might not short-circuit anymore, but I’m not perfect.” Kirishima rolled his eyes while Mina just snickered. Bakugou grumbled, his words indiscernible through the rice.

The point is, it doesn’t matter if you didn’t get an A. Aizawa-sensei is a tough grader, we all know that.”

Bakugou knew he should be grateful to his friend for being so ignorant about his situation that he would unknowingly steer the conversation away from his bitterness. He raised his head, sneering at him.

“Oh, good. At first I was worried I was put on the same level as you losers. Great to know my reputation is still intact.”

Jirou and Sero both laughed. Kirishima just glared at him before reaching over to pick a stubborn grain of rice off his cheek.

“Try that again when you’re not covered in your own lunch, douchebag.”

The table lapsed back into whatever conversation they had been in the middle of, but Bakugou couldn’t seem to find his appetite. He picked halfheartedly at his food before giving up and hauling his listless body to his feet, leaving his leftovers on the table for one of the others to claim. Maybe if he got back to the classroom before the lunch hour ended, he’d get some peace and quiet before the next period started. He desperately needed a nap.

Other students he passed in the hallway knew to give him some distance, especially the first years. He wasn’t nearly as vicious as he had been his first couple years in the school, but from various rumors people still found him frightening and unpredictable. That was fine. Bakugou liked his space. He kept his hands shoved in his pockets, though, since those seemed to be what his peers found most intimidating. That was a habit he’d picked up when he first started trying to appear more “approachable,” as his mom had put it. Funny that she believed he would ever be more than unapproachable, at best.

“. . . during the project, though, right?”

Uraraka’s bubbly voice filtered through Bakugou’s thoughts just in time to bring him to a stop before he rounded the next corner.

“What? Yeah, we got along fine. He’s really smart!” That was Izuku’s voice.

“You two seem to have been spending more and more time with him!” Bakugou could almost imagine Iida’s hands flailing about as his voice became recognizable as well. He smirked to himself before it dawned on him that it was probably him that the group was talking about. “Has he been treating you fairer than he used to? You know you don’t have any obligation to him if he refuses to respect you and --”

“It’s fine, I swear!” Izuku’s voice raised an octave. Funny. That usually meant he was lying. “He’s not nearly as mean as he used to be. In fact. . .” there was a pause as Izuku apparently floundered for words.

“. . . A lot of things he says seem to be more endearing than insulting.” Oh. So Shouto was with them. Finishing sentences in that cool monotone, as always.

“Exactly! He still swears a lot, but it’s more like that’s just what he’s used to saying, you know?”

“That doesn’t. . . excuse it, though, Izuku-kun.” Uraraka’s voice was very soft. “Do you guys. . . like him? You know, because you’ve been spending so much time with him. Do you want to date him?”

Bakugou’s blood froze.

“Ha!” Izuku barked a painful-sounding laugh. “We could never. That kind of thing. . . right, Shoucchan?”

“It does seem impossible,” the lower voice agreed.

“Well, you guys still. . . “ Uraraka’s concerned tone seemed to fade away as a high buzzing noise sounded in Bakugou’s ears. When the buzzing intensified and black dots floated into his vision, the blonde realized he’d been holding his breath and let it out in a huff before his chest mutinied and pulled it right back in. He tried to steady his breathing but it became totally useless as his throat constricted and his chest kept on wheezing in and out, against his will. He needed to get outside, now.

Where kids had moved out of his path in the hallway before, they were practically running to avoid him now. Bakugou made a beeline for the nearest exit, not bothering to apologize when he bumped elbows with anyone who hadn’t been paying attention. He shoulder-checked the door to the outer ball courts when he reached it, slamming it open and stumbling out onto the grass.

The fresh air immediately settled his spasming lungs, and Bakugou let his shoulders relax and his head tip back as he gulped down lungfuls of oxygen. His hands remained in his pockets, safer there than they would be if he let them form fists and punch the nearest wall. His head still buzzed incessantly at him, like it was whining for him to chill out even though he absolutely could fucking not right now.

This fucking sucked. Sure, Bakugou had resigned himself to useless pining for the rest of the year at the very least. There was absolutely no chance of him being able to crash the thing Izuku and Shouto had already shared for years. But, hearing it out loud, now knowing for certain that there was no way in heaven or hell for him to ever reach that daydream of being able to hold hands with either of them, of running his hands through soft curls or laying his head on a cool shoulder in the summer, of legs tangled up together while watching movies or any of the other disgustingly domestic things his bitchass brain had thrown at him. . .

That settled much heavier in his stomach than anything else. He remembered that nasty feeling he’d had a few days ago, where his heart seemed to inflate inside his chest and float away. Now it was like it had turned to stone. Not beating, just sitting inside his ribcage, cold and crumbling.

And who else was to blame but himself? He’d heard the things Uraraka and Iida were saying about him. Both of them had confronted him at different points throughout the years, too, asking him to lay off Izuku. They just wanted to protect their friends. And Bakugou was the person who made their friends feel bad, so of course they would be worried if Shouto and Izuku chose to stick around with him. Even though clearly neither Shouto nor Izuku needed that protection, with how confident they had gotten with Bakugou recently. In or out of bed, they knew exactly which of his buttons to push to get him to shut up.

Was that all this ever was for them? A power trip? The first time Izuku and Shouto caught him behind the sports shed, Izuku had said they wanted to “help” him. Same with the second time. Since then, their flings had gotten much more casual, but did they still have that underlying motive to. . . keep him calm for his other classmates?

No. Even that was unfair. Shouto and Izuku were better than that. Better than him. He didn’t have any right to be angry just because they wanted sex and he wanted more than that. Just because he let himself believe, let himself hope, futilely, that they wanted more from him. And even if they did, he wouldn’t be able to give it. Bakugou knew he’d never be able to treat them the way they deserved, they way they already had with each other. He was just an irrelevant variable in their equation.

God fucking dammit.

Heaving a sigh that quaked in his chest, Bakugou turned back towards the school. The bell for the start of class rang shrilly as he opened the door, but he couldn’t bring himself to even walk quickly enough to make it on time.

* * *

Bakugou wasn’t able to listen to any of the lecture that day. A pro hero from a precinct in the suburbs had come in to present about something stupid that Bakugou had been excited to hear about the day before; but sitting there now, head propped on a shaking fist, Bakugou just couldn’t make his eyes focus. All that was echoing through his head was Izuku’s breathless laugh as he vehemently denied having any feelings for Bakugou. As if that was the craziest thing ever suggested.

Ha! We could never. That kind of thing. . .

. . .With a heartless bully like Kacchan? Bakugou’s brain finished for him. That sociopath who doesn’t know how to care about his friends? He let his head fall into his hands. That was probably true, wasn’t it? His mom had always given him shit about how one day his arrogant attitude would come back to bite him in the ass. He had never figured it would be something like this.

The rest of the day went by in a blur, finding Bakugou replaying the same lines in his head over and over. Trying to be angry, failing, staying miserable and self-loathing instead. Aizawa-sensei snapped at him more than a couple times, suggesting he visit Recovery Girl if he was so ill he “couldn’t even lift his head up to pretend to listen." Bakugou would’ve complied if he felt his legs could have carried his weight without wilting like wet noodles. He was hopeless.

By the end of class, Bakugou was pretty much falling asleep on his desk. A rude jab on his shoulder jerked him awake, and he twisted to find Kirishima leaning on his elbows over his desk to get up in his business.

“What’s the deal, man? You leave lunch early, you pass out in class, this isn’t like you at all.”

“Nothing,” Bakugou grumbled, slumping forward again in his seat. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t think you understand that it’s my duty as your manly best friend to always worry about you,” the redhead retorted, leaning over further until he was practically laying across the table, his head next to Bakugou’s. From this vantage point he could clearly see that the blonde was training his gaze on a certain couple across the room, one sitting on the other’s desk while they packed up. Kirishima watched bouncing green curls and cool, contrasting eyes before watching Bakugou. Watching Bakugou watch them.

Kirishima opened his mouth to say something just as Izuku broke his conversation with Shouto to catch Bakugou’s eye and offer him a shy wave. Bakugou almost jumped out of his seat, cheeks rushing red as he realized he had been caught staring, and startling Kirishima with his overreaction. He immediately lowered his head and began shoving his stuff into his bag. He could practically hear the gears turning in his friend’s head -- he needed to get the fuck out of there before the idiot said something that would get both of them killed (Bakugou because he’d die of embarrassment, and Kirishima because Bakugou would have to take the fucker down with him).

“Hey, Kirishima!”

Shit. Bakugou glanced sideways to see Izuku’s form step up to his desk.

“Hey, Midoriya! Heard you guys got a pretty high grade on that project. Congrats!”

“Thanks! It wasn’t as high as I’d like it to be, but it seemed to satisfy Aizawa-sensei, so I’m happy with it.”

“Ha. Blasty’s been pouting about that all morning.” Kirishima elbowed Bakugou, who had been doing his best to become one with his chair. He was gripping his backpack hard enough to turn his knuckles white, but he barely registered the lack of circulation in his shaking hands.

“Anyway, I came over to ask Kacchan. . .” Bakugou didn’t need to see Izuku’s face to tell he’d shifted his attention to him, leaning over sideways like he always did, almost like an obnoxiously exaggerated head tilt. “. . . If he wanted to join Shoucchan and I to go out to eat later? To celebrate, and all that?”

Bakugou stood up, much too fast. His thighs knocked into his desk, the force sending it skidding across the floor to knock into Izuku, who stumbled back. Kirishima looked up at him from where he was still hanging over his own desk, bewildered.

“Why the fuck would I want to spend any more time than necessary with you nerds?” he snarled, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. Before he could take one step forward, Shouto was there too, winding a protective arm around Izuku’s waist. Izuku looked very small next to him, wide eyes uncertain and afraid.

Afraid. Of Bakugou. For the first time in years.

What the fuck are you doing? Bakugou wanted to scream at himself.

“Hey, what the hell is your problem?” Shouto growled, nearly in Bakugou’s own words. “He asked a simple question, a no would’ve done just fine.”

“Oh yeah, because you persistent assholes ever take no for an answer,” Bakugou shot back, knowing his words would sting, choosing them for that reason. He jabbed a finger at Izuku’s chest before Shouto knocked it away. “How many times have I told you to just leave me the fuck alone?”

Just shut up, he tried telling himself. Please, just stop now, don’t hurt them because you’re hurting. Has nothing changed?

But Bakugou couldn’t stop. He was vibrating with anger. At himself -- at Izuku and Shouto, irrationally, for making him think they cared about him, for leading him on. For dangling something in front of his face just long enough for him to crave it before yanking it away. He vaguely registered his vision turning red, his lungs heaving, as if these things were happening to a different person.

“But noo, you guys had to just keep shoving into my goddamn business like I was some fucking pathetic charity case for you to -- to -- turn into your little lapdog!”

“Kacchan, we were just --” Izuku was cut off as Shouto pulled the smaller one behind him, noticing Bakugou’s palms smoking dangerously.

“You’re blowing things way out of proportion. We just wanted to be friends.”

And that was it, wasn’t it?

The last nail in the coffin.

“Exactly,” said Bakugou, voice breaking.

The classroom had fallen into complete silence at Bakugou’s outrage, and watched as the boy finally seemed to consider his burning hands and shove them into his pockets, before turning on his heel and stomping out of the room.

* * *

Bakugou was sitting on a cafeteria bench outside when Kirishima found him a couple hours later, hunched against the backrest and sagging so much his ass wasn’t even on the seat anymore. His shoulders were drawn up to his ears and he held the crumpled remains of a milk carton in his fist. Nobody else was in a few-hundred-yard radius. Bakugou had that effect on people.

Except Kirishima, of course.

“Hey, dude,” he started as he gingerly sat beside his friend. Judging from the blonde’s posture, he was still on edge, but not nearly as angry as he was earlier. No, now he looked more. . . exhausted. Miserable.

“Whaddya want.” There was no heat behind the words. That was good. That meant Bakugou was actually willing to talk.

“Well, you know me,” Kirishima replied, leaning back on his hands, “Just can’t leave a bro alone when he’s sitting by himself, looking like he’s considering choking himself on an empty milk carton.” A weak snort answered him, and Bakugou tossed the carton from one hand to another before raising his arm high and chucking the thing perfectly into the nearest trash can. Kirishima whistled. “Yo, good shot.”

“Whatever. I know you want to talk about what happened earlier.”

“Well, yeah. What was that? You haven’t snapped like that since, like, sophomore year.”

“It’s fucking nothing, alright? Can nobody get off my dick for once?”

Kirishima waited.

Bakugou swallowed.

“But. If there was. . . some. . . hypothetical situation. . .”

“I would swear on my honor never to repeat it to another living soul, or else I’ll commit seppuku.”

Bakugou frowned, saying nothing for a few minutes. Searching for the right words.

“There might be. . . someone. Well, two someones. Two people, that. . . I’ve. . .”

Kirishima fought to keep a smirk off his face as he watched every word Bakugou spoke twist his face more and more as if they were bringing him physical pain. His hands fidgeted uselessly, every so often raising to splay open like empty miming could communicate what he didn’t want to say aloud.

“That. I’ve. Um. Started to. . . you know. Fall. In love. With.” Bakugou’s voice wavered dangerously and he paused to clear his throat. “Hypothetically. Which is a bitch in and of itself, fucking obviously. Because, me.” another pause to gesture at his entire figure, still slumped over pitifully. “But also. Um, these two people. . . are already. . . in a relationship. With each other.”

“And you, being emotionally stunted as you are, can’t find it within yourself to tell them how you feel.”

Bakugou shot him a glare filled with about as much malice as a sideways look could give, but Kirishima just rolled his eyes. “What? Am I supposed to pretend I don’t know exactly who this hypothetical situation is about?”

Bakugou slipped even further down the bench, now impossibly low, like he was trying to disappear into the earth.

“Doesn’t matter how I feel,” he mumbled, crossing his arms. “I know they don’t feel the same way.”

That caught Kirishima by surprise. He turned to sit sideways on the bench, facing his friend.

“Bro, are you serious? They’ve spent, like, the last two months trying to seduce you, you giant hunk of shit-for-brains.”

Bakugou squawked indignantly.

“Hey, fuck you! That’s what I thought too, but I heard them talking, alright? They don’t want anything to do with me. They just wanted to. . . fuck with me, I guess. I don’t fucking know.”

“You heard them talking? About what?”

“About me! To Pink-cheeks and that refrigerator. They straight-up asked them what the deal was, and if you’d heard how Izu -- how Deku sounded. . .” Bakugou finally gave in to gravity, sliding down to sit heavily on the ground in front of the bench. “You’d understand.”

Kirishima sighed and lowered himself to the ground too, resting his arms on the seat of the bench.

“So you’re telling me that you, the king of obliviousness, also thought they were into you, and you changed your mind because of a conversation you overheard, out of context.”

For the first time Bakugou fully raised his head to look at Kirishima, who returned his confused gaze matter-of-factly.

“Well. . . yeah.”

Kirishima dared to chuckle at his friend’s utter cluelessness. “Listen, bro. God knows you’ve always been shit at talking to people. But this is something you need grow a pair for. If this whole deal can turn you. . . into this?” The redhead decided to use Bakugou’s sign language and waved wildly at his whole person, ass on the ground and knees drawn up to his chest. “You need to talk to them. Really, dude.”

Bakugou paled. “I did talk to them. You were fucking there.”

“I mean, apologize. You said some pretty nasty shit.”

“. . . I know.”

Bakugou propped his elbows on his knees and let his head fall into his arms, deflating. Kirishima chewed on his lip before he decided to take a risk.

“You know, you might think Midoriya and Todoroki were just using you. But, for the past few weeks, you’ve been super chill to hang with. And, to me at least, it’s seemed like that’s because. . . Well, you were in love. Not because they were taking advantage of you.”

Bakugou turned his head sharply to Kirishima from where he was resting on his arms.

“You knew before?”

“Bro. You never hide your emotions. You can’t. You’re the most open book I’ve ever met.”

Bakugou groaned, turning to hide his face in his sleeves again, and Kirishima laughed at the bright red blush evident in his friend’s ears. He got to his feet, dusting off the back of his pants before patting Bakugou on the shoulder and turning back towards the building.

“See you inside, Drama Queen.”

Chapter Text

It took exactly seventy-six hours for Bakugou to work up the courage to talk to Izuku and Shouto.

Three days. Three days of avoiding eye contact with Izuku, of watching Shouto gently guiding the boy away from Bakugou if he ever passed by them. Of feeling his heart clench sickeningly every time he saw either of them laughing in a group of lively classmates. Three days of absolute self-hatred bubbling up inside him until he just couldn’t take it anymore.

And so, for the second time in a week, Bakugou was dragging his feet down the dorm hallway late at night, headed for Izuku’s door.

It had taken every ounce of his strength to heave his body up from his bed, knowing he was walking towards his own undoing. How many times had he leapt into battle before, always certain he’d find some way to crush his enemies, one way or another?

He’d never felt this sense of certain doom before.

But no matter what, he had to apologize to them. They had to know this wasn’t their fault, that trying to get close to Bakugou wasn’t a mistake on their part; just a useless wish that would never yield anything.

He could feel his knees shake as he stepped up to the door. It seemed very quiet on the other side. Bakugou wasn’t even sure if either Izuku or Shouto were actually inside. Christ, if he knocked and nobody answered, that was it -- he couldn’t imagine mustering up the guts it would take to knock again at another door.

Finally, before he could give himself the chance to run away, Bakugou raised a fist and weakly tapped against the wood.

If it had taken longer than a few seconds for the door to open, Bakugou’s legs would’ve given out. But after a few quaking breaths, he heard the doorknob unlatch, and he was suddenly standing face-to-face with a frowning Shouto.

Bakugou could see Izuku behind him, sitting on the bed but craning his neck to see who might’ve been at his door. Shouto’s eyebrows snapped together in confusion -- no doubt neither of them were expecting him at a time like this. Bakugou felt his stomach twist at Shouto’s expression, still hurt and angry and tired. The taller boy opened his mouth to say something before he seemed to register something about Bakugou, and closed it again. That was fair. Bakugou probably looked like a goddamn mess.

Shouto turned to his boyfriend, who had gotten to his feet in curiosity, before turning back to Bakugou and retreating a ways to give him space on the threshold.

“Do you want to come in?”

This was. . . actually a lot farther ahead than Bakugou had planned. He wasn’t expecting them to keep the door open, much less invite him inside. Bakugou nodded, taking a few cautious steps forward so Shouto could close the door behind him.

No matter how many times Bakugou had run through this scenario in his head beforehand, he still wasn’t prepared for how exposed he felt just then, standing in the middle of the room with two people he’d let down, wringing his hands. Neither Izuku nor Shouto said anything and Bakugou couldn’t tell if it was because they wanted to let him find his words first or if they were just apprehensive of what he’d do next.

Deep breaths, Bakugou. He’d practiced this.

“Listen, I. . .” Bakugou’s eyes glued themselves solidly to his socked feet. He knew what words he wanted to say, but each one felt like he was prying his jaws open through a mouthful of peanut butter. “What I said the other day. I didn’t mean it. None of that was true, I just -- I was just saying things I knew would hurt. I’m sorry.”

“Why, Kacchan?” Came Izuku’s soft voice from somewhere above Bakugou’s periphery. “Did we do something wrong? Why were you so angry?”

Bakugou’s hands fell to his sides, fists clenching. He had to tell them the truth. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, fingernails digging into his palm. Bracing himself.

“You guys didn’t do anything. It was just me -- I was stupid, and I took it out on you --” Why? Why was he still not able to tell them everything? “You were both right, I was blowing this whole thing out of proportion, and I was expecting. . . I just thought -- I don’t know. I don’t know what I was thinking. But I’m so sorry for freaking out. I don’t mean to, it just fucking happens and I always make a goddamn ass of myself and I can’t even promise it wouldn’t happen again if you gave me another chance because I can never control it -- or I don’t fucking know how to --”

Bakugou hadn’t realized that he had begun to ramble, or that the pitch in his voice had been crawling higher and higher until it broke on a sob. Probably trying to spew out as many words as possible to uselessly delay the inevitable. He forced himself to take a shuddering breath, biting down on his lip again to shut himself up. His hands were shaking, opening and closing because he didn’t know what the fuck to do with all the nervous sweat on his palms when he wasn’t angry, just terrified.

And Izuku still wasn’t fucking saying anything. Both he and Shouto were completely silent as they considered Bakugou and Bakugou still couldn’t bring himself to look up at them. God, the only thing worse than the two sending him away, rejecting him, even yelling at him, would be if they said nothing at all. Bakugou didn’t know what he would do if they did nothing. If Shouto just opened the door right back up, waiting for Bakugou to leave.

Please, just say something. Anything. Tell me that saying sorry doesn’t cut it, that I’m not good enough for you guys. Make it hurt, I know I deserve it.

“I forgive you.”

Bakugou might’ve gotten whiplash with how fast he raised his head to look at Shouto, who had spoken. Two heterochrome eyes blinked back at him, seemingly stoic but gentle at the same time. Bakugou’s lips tried to form a question, but the bewildered what? didn’t make its way past his throat. He swallowed before daring to glance over at Izuku.

The curly haired teen also seemed to be caught by surprise by the fact that Shouto had spoken first, but his parted lips soon widened into a dazzling smile. The kind that pushed his eyes up into a bright squint. He nodded along with his boyfriend while stepping up to Bakugou, though cautiously.

“I forgive you too, Kacchan. Thank you for apologizing.”

Why, though? Why is everything okay, just like that?

“You forgive me?” His voice sounded like a child’s. Izuku breathed out a soft laugh, stepping closer.

“Of course, Kacchan. It was a fight, and we were all mad, but that doesn’t mean that we would never speak again. You and I used to fight all the time, remember? And we still had each others’ backs.”

“Yeah, but --”

Kacchan. It’s okay. I promise.”

Bakugou wanted to object, but something in his chest closed up so he couldn’t get any words out. This didn’t make any fucking sense. They knew what he was like, that he might hurt them again, that he had no fucking clue how to deal with his own outbursts. Why would anyone want to waste their time with him?

All at once the realization and relief that Izuku and Shouto weren’t angry at him hit like a ton of bricks, and Bakugou’s legs finally collapsed underneath him, sending him to his knees.

“Oh,” he breathed, letting his head fall to rest on Izuku’s thighs before shuffling forward to hold the backs of the other’s knees in a tentative embrace. “Oh, thank fuck.”

“K-Kacchan!” Izuku yelped, hands coming to rest in Bakugou’s hair. He dropped to his knees as well, Shouto not far behind. Soon all three teens were sitting on the floor of Izuku’s room, feet folded underneath them, Izuku and Shouto directly in front of Bakugou.

“I can’t help but think that something happened that you’re not telling us about,” Shouto pressed. Bakugou gulped, and trained his eyes on the floor again. “If we did something that made you uncomfortable, you should tell us. I know I also said some things the other day that I --”

“I --!” Bakugou cut him off in a panic, knowing what the other boy was going to say.

We just wanted to be friends.

Bakugou knew that, and he didn’t want to be told again. But now both Shouto and Izuku were watching him expectantly, waiting for him to continue. He wiped his clammy palms on his pants before reluctantly telling them his side of the story.

“I heard you guys in the hallway. Talking to Pink -- Uh, Uraraka and Iida. And I heard you say you’d never be able to. . . be with me. Like that.” He swallowed down the lump in his throat and squeezed his eyes shut before continuing. “And I realized I had been taking everything we’ve been doing the wrong way, and I just. . . But it doesn’t matter. Just forget it.”

“Oh.” Izuku’s absolute astonishment was apparent even though Bakugou couldn’t see his face, and he winced. “Oh, Kacchan. . .Y-you don’t understand! That was just -- we just meant --”

The tone of Izuku’s voice tore Bakugou’s gaze away from his hands, and he looked up to find the boy absolutely glowing red. His mouth was opening and closing like a fish before he finally gave up and covered his whole face with his hands. From there he was able to speak, although his voice was muffled and Bakugou had to lean forward to be able to understand him.

“The truth is. . . Kacchan, this whole time we’ve been trying to --” he broke off in a high squeak, startling Bakugou. Izuku’s fingers parted over one eye, the sparkling green darting to his right to look to Shouto for help.

Right. This was usually the part where Shouto finished the sentence. However, it was the last thing Bakugou expected when he followed Izuku’s gaze to find the other boy flushing bright red as well, his scar almost blending in with the rest of his face. His lips had formed a tight line and his hands had curled into fists over his thighs.

“What? You’ve been trying to what?” Bakugou pressed, leaning forward more until he was on his hands and knees. Shouto cleared his throat before answering.

“The reason I said it would be impossible in the hallway was because. . . well, we both thought. . . we figured you wouldn’t want to be seen with us that way either.”

“We’ve been trying to find excuses to hang out with you in public because we were thinking that you might warm up to the idea of dating casually,” Izuku piped up, twiddling his fingers nervously.

Bakugou blinked.

. . . Hold on.

What?

“What?” He said aloud.

“Kacchan!” Izuku finally had the nerve to sound exasperated. “We’re saying we want to date you! We’ve been wanting to date you! For like, what?”

“Weeks?” Shouto offered with a shrug, although his cheeks were still flushed enough to give away his unease. Bakugou tried running the words through his head once, twice. The third time through they started making sense.

“Are you fucking with me?” Bakugou asked. He had meant to sound intimidating but his voice was quaking far too much.

Both Shouto and Izuku cocked their heads in confusion completely in tandem with each other. Bakugou jutted his chin forward, nostrils flaring, in response. He was determined to get a straight fucking answer as many times as he pleased at this point. Finally, Shouto closed his eyes for a breath before scooching forward on his shins to hold Bakugou’s hands in his lap. Bakugou was forced to sit up again as Shouto leaned into his space so that they were nose to nose. He tried to hold Shouto’s gaze as it got closer and closer until he felt his eyes cross.

“We like you, Katsuki. A lot. Yes, you have a short temper and you’d rather blow things up than talk to people, but you’re ambitious, and talented, and you’ve inspired so many of us to be better fighters and heroes than we thought we could be throughout the years. And Gods know you’ve been through your fair share of stress and trauma, but you carry it with you as an incentive rather than a burden. You’re one of the bravest people I know.”

Shouto said this while resting their foreheads together and squeezing Bakugou’s hands in his, tightly. Ignoring how hard Bakugou was shaking. When Bakugou didn’t say anything, Shouto cleared his throat and added, almost to himself, “Not to mention you’re like, really, really hot.”

“Amen.” Izuku took this chance to slide himself over as well, settling next to Bakugou.

“B-but --” Bakugou shook his head. “Back in the classroom, you said. . . you told me you just wanted to be friends.”

“Well, yeah,” Izuku murmured, placing his hands on top of Shouto’s and Bakugou’s. “At the very least we wanted to be friends with you, even if you didn’t want to publicly date us.”

“So -- so you mean --”

For some reason, that was about as much as Bakugou could take. He buried his face in their interlocked hands, completely folding in on himself to hide from their gazes.

“Oooh, my god,” he groaned, muffled by his lap. “Oh my god, and this entire time I just thought I was imagining something that wasn’t there -- and now you guys are saying that you -- holy shit --”

“Oh no, Kacchan, I wasn’t thinking. . . Kacchan, c’mere -- Oh, Shoucchan, can you. . .?”

Some shuffling happened, the hands holding his disappeared, and suddenly Bakugou felt two arms wrap around him securely, gripping under his knees and hoisting him into the air with ease. He squeaked in surprise before he could help it and parted his fingers over one eye to see Shouto above him, carrying him like a princess. A blonde, spikey, angry princess.

Bakugou’s gaze then found Izuku, waiting on his bed with his arms outstretched. Shouto joined him on the sheets, folding one leg underneath him to deliver a curled-up Bakugou to his grasp like he was a stubborn cat. Bakugou refused to take his hands away from his face as he was cradled between the two boys. He found himself sitting with his ass sideways on Shouto’s lap while his head rested on Izuku’s chest, ear pressed against his heartbeat.

“I’m sorry, Kacchan,” Izuku hummed softly, nose buried in Bakugou’s hair. A scarred hand rose to pet through it soothingly as the other wrapped itself around his middle, holding him close. “We’ve been going about this all backwards, haven’t we?”

Another muffled grumble answered him.

“I think I owe you even more of an apology,” said Shouto. “I kept telling you how you need to learn how to communicate, but turns out we didn’t do that, either.”

“Do you forgive us, Kacchan?” Izuku asked with a chaste kiss on Bakugou’s forehead, brushing his bangs back. Bakugou’s hands finally fell from his face, only to cross over his chest tightly.

“What?” His mouth curled into a pout as he looked up at the others. “Of course I fucking do, who do you think I am?”

Izuku’s next intake of breath was so sharp it jostled Bakugou, and a look of pure relief and contentment washed over his freckled face. He dipped his head to press kiss after kiss to Bakugou’s cheek, neck, shoulder -- anywhere he could reach. Bakugou squawked, trying to wriggle away.

“Hey s-stop, that tickles, you fuck!”

“Kacchan, I’m so happy! We’ll make it up to you, I promise!”

“Okay, okay, just chill out --”

“Does this mean you’ll be our boyfriend, Kacchan? Will you go out with us?”

Bakugou froze, shocked.

“I -- what?”

Shouto took the initiative to lean over Bakugou, placing both hands on either side of his abdomen. The blonde gulped, sinking back into Izuku as Shouto pierced him with a cold gaze.

“I know where you’re the most ticklish,” he said soberly, fingers squeezing like a threat. “If you say no. . . I’ll ruin you.”

“What the fuck? I --”

Too late. Shouto dug into Bakugou’s sides, eliciting an undignified shriek from him as he tried thrashing his way out of Izuku’s and Shouto’s grip. Izuku cackled gleefully, holding Bakugou down. Shouto didn’t let up even as Bakugou gasped for mercy and tears pricked the corners of his eyes.

“F-fuck, okay, yes, Jesus, I’ll go out with you! I would’ve said yes anyway, j-just -- ah, fuckfuckfuck, stopitIsweartoGod --”

“That’s better.” Shouto sat back, leaving Bakugou to gulp down breaths in Izuku’s lap.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable being affectionate in public?” Izuku asked cautiously. “Because you’d always tease Shoucchan and me about it. . .”

“Again. Just me being an ass,” Bakugou grunted, ears turning red. “Don’t worry about it, I could really care less what those other losers think.”

“But, Kacchan --”

“Oi. I just said yes, don’t make me take it back.”

Izuku beamed at him, reassured.

“Nope, no take-backsies here! You’re stuck with us!”

Bakugou fought to keep a dopey smile off his face.

“I guess I can live with that.”

* * *

“What? You guys are dating now?” Ochako exclaimed the next afternoon, clapping her hands together. “I thought you said --”

“I know! We thought so, too!”

Shouto and Izuku were standing in front of a small group of their classmates like they were about to deliver a riveting presentation, Izuku practically buzzing with excitement and even Shouto unable to keep a wide grin off his face. They both looked so thrilled that Ochako and Iida shared a look of fond disbelief.

“Don’t believe us?” Izuku asked, flexing confidently. “Well, check this out!”

The giggling teen flounced over to an unsuspecting Bakugou, who had been standing a ways away talking with Kirishima. With nothing but a delighted “Kacchan!” as warning, he flung his arms around him, planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek. Bakugou’s first instinct was to throw his arms up in surprise before he realized who his attacker was, and Shouto looked on in amusement as he completely froze in embarrassment, face rushing a bright red. But, lo and behold, after a few beats the blonde relaxed again into a grumpy pout while slinging an arm around Izuku’s waist.

A collective gasp rose from the onlookers as they watched the event unfold. Izuku had both arms around Bakugou’s neck, grinning devilishly over his shoulder while Bakugou resumed his conversation with Kirishima -- who was trying, and failing, to appear nonchalant.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” sighed Denki.

“Well, with the way Baku-chan has been acting the past few weeks, I figured it had to happen sooner or later,” replied Tsuyu, tapping her cheek thoughtfully.

“Yeah, he was like a wet cat,” Sero agreed. “That was terrifying.”

“Or a puffer fish!” said Hagakure. “Y’know, the ones that get all fat and spikey when you poke them.”

“Or a --”

The conversation was suddenly interrupted by an unfamiliar laugh echoing through the room, pulling the classmates from their analogies. The entire group turned, expecting to find someone from another class intruding on their homeroom, but they were met with the sight of Bakugou Katsuki himself tilting his head back and holding his stomach through a bout of laughter that left him breathless. Izuku was saying something indecipherable into his ear, grinning, and when Bakugou turned his head to reply Shouto could see his brows were quirked up, eyes wide and mouth forming words around a massive smile. The blonde could barely finish his sentence without gasping on a giggle.

Shouto felt like his lungs had just gotten punted from his body.

“Did Bakugou just. . . laugh?” Whispered Mina. “Like, actually laugh?”

“That’s the first time I’ve seen him even crack a genuine smile,” said Denki. “Not malicious, or spiteful, or anything.”

“I didn’t even know Bakugou could laugh without kicking the shit out of someone.”

A long minute passed while the crowd blinked in stunned silence. Even Kirishima was gaping at Bakugou, who was wiping a tear from one eye.

Shouto had spent the last month discovering new expressions he’d never known Bakugou’s face could make, and he still hadn’t seen this one before. It was beautiful.

“¥100 says I can get a picture of him laughing,” said Denki, not turning his head.

“I raise you ¥500,” replied Sero without missing a beat.

Twice that says he lights your face on fire before you can even get your camera out,” added Jirou.

Shouto cleared his throat.

“¥2,000 says I get the picture first.”

Chapter Text

Bakugou was being torn apart. His stomach felt like it was boiling, and his head swam dizzyingly. With every passing moment, every shift of his body, the pain crested higher and higher until it was like a live fire licking at his insides, fighting to get out.

God fucking dammit, he needed to do something. Anything.

His arms shook in the position he held them in, strained much too far back for his shoulders. He couldn’t take it anymore. He let one drop beside his head, boneless, while the other snaked down his body to land on a head of silky hair.

At once, all sensation ceased. The loss lit Bakugou’s body up even more intensely than before.

“Ah ah ah, Kacchan,” came a sickeningly sweet voice. “What did I say about keeping your hands where they belong?”

Bakugou tried to reply, to defend himself, to apologize, but no words made it past the thick tie that had been knotted around his head and shoved into his mouth. About halfway off his tongue the objection melted into some kind of gargling whimper, and a line of spit ran down his chin. A sadistic laugh answered his efforts, belonging to a face he couldn’t see, one he so desperately wanted to see. But no, his sight had been taken away from him too, this time.

Bakugou had offered minimal complaints when Izuku slipped the gag past his lips not long before. But once the blindfold was in place, he’d begun to sweat nervously.

“Just cough, okay, Kacchan? You promise? If you can’t do anything else, just cough and we’ll stop.”

Yeah, well.

Bakugou hadn’t figured before that it could hurt so much but feel so damn good at the same time. Here he was, spread out on his back across his own damn sheets again, and fuck no, he didn’t want it to stop -- the loss of his voice and eyesight almost heightened every other feeling. He had no idea what either Izuku or Shouto were going to do next, and it was like every inch of his skin was alight with anxious tension. No, he just wanted them to get the fuck on with it and get him off already.

Except he couldn’t even tell them that now, with his head whipping from side to side in frustration when the person he was holding still wouldn’t fucking move. He tried inching down lower onto the bed, parting his legs wide and arching his back to search for something, any pressure. But every time he moved the body below him scooched farther away. He could feel the fucker’s devious smirk against his skin.

Fucking goddamn dickbag bitch. There had been a tongue in his ass a couple seconds ago, he fucking wanted it back.

Another high whine rattled itself out of Bakugou’s throat, his thighs and hips trembling as he fought for at least a semblance of control. When a hand landed lightly on his stomach he jerked violently, startled. The touch was soft, though, and Bakugou relaxed a little again as it trailed up his abs and over his chest to meet the lips dancing over his shoulder.

“I told you, Kacchan. Hands flat on the headboard. You’ll be good, won’t you?”

Izuku’s voice right next to his ear drew a sharp breath from Bakugou. Yes, yes of course Bakugou wanted to be good, but he couldn’t fucking think straight right now, with every nerve in his body pulsing with such raw need. How could he be good when that meant taking his hands away from the person doing this to him? It was Shouto, wasn’t it? Soft hair, but not fluffy like Izuku’s. What was he doing here again?

As if to reaffirm Izuku’s point, the person whose face was in Bakugou’s ass -- Bakugou decided it was probably Shouto, if Izuku’s voice was coming from right beside him -- lifted himself entirely out of Bakugou’s reach, leaving the blonde to grasp for him blindly. Two hands, one warm and one cool, gripped the undersides of Bakugou’s legs and pressed forward, hard, folding Bakugou against himself with his knees almost touching his chest. At first Bakugou struggled against it, knowing his ass was forced into the air on full display, but his anxious whimpering quickly turned into a high groan when a hot breath huffed against his entrance teasingly. He shivered, and moved his arms back up to feel for the headboard behind him.

He almost cried with relief when his fingers touched the wood, grunting at Shouto to continue. However, the sensations from before didn’t return, and after a few moments Bakugou was whining again, wiggling his hips for attention.

“Kacchan, weren’t you listening?” There was a smile in Izuku’s voice. A mean one. “I said, hands flat. Palms on the wood. What makes you think you’ll get what you want if you won’t even pay attention?”

Shouto, ever adept at finishing sentences, punctuated the question by licking a searing stripe across Bakugou’s hole. Bakugou shrieked, feeling every hair on his body going on end with the shiver that ran up his spine. He was sobbing now, craning back as far as he could go to capture the headboard under his hands. The barrier of dignity that kept any embarrassing noises from spilling out of his mouth had long since broken, and each inhale was a whine, every exhale a moan. He gnashed his teeth as he stretched backwards, trying to swallow against the gag but failing miserably. He was just close enough to touch the board with his fingertips, but when he’d scooched down the bed earlier he’d brought the heels of his hands out of reach.

Fuck, his wrists hurt, and he couldn’t swallow, and he’d never been harder in his life, and he needed Shouto’s mouth back right the fuck now. He dropped his arms back to the bed, digging his fingers into the edge of the mattress to pull himself back up onto the pillows. His elbows shook with exertion, his entire body far too on edge and exhausted to haul his weight even a couple centimeters. Not to mention he was in the worst position to try to move, with his entire lower half lifted off the bed by some strong, handsome bastard he couldn’t even fucking see.

After a few seconds Bakugou could practically feel victory within his grasp, ready to release the mattress and stick his hands solidly to the headboard -- when the grip on his legs shifted to his hips and roughly tugged him back into the middle of the spread.

No, Bakugou tried to cry out as he realized what Shouto had just done. No, no no no no no --

And Shouto was just laughing, holding him steady so that he couldn’t even find an angle to use to tug himself upwards. He tried turning his body for better leverage, only managed to twist his shoulders around with his legs still captured, clawed at the sheets to try dragging himself away. His upper and lower halves were completely at odds with each other, arms straining to reach the headboard but hips undulating desperately in Shouto’s hands. He could tell the fingers were leaving bruises on his skin and the dull pain was just about the only thing grounding him at the moment.

Shouto, please, Bakugou tried to say. Please, I need it, just let me have your mouth again, I’ll go crazy. Each plea left him as a wrecked sob.

“Come on, Kacchan, you can try harder than that. I thought you’d be able to follow one simple rule, are you really struggling so much with this?” Izuku almost sounded. . . bored.

Bakugou’s mind was in a full tailspin. He wouldn’t, no, he couldn’t disappoint them, they would punish him and he didn’t deserve that, Shouto was just playing dirty -- he renewed his efforts to wriggle away from him, towards Izuku’s voice, towards satiation. He decided to start pushing himself away on his elbows rather than uselessly pulling up his bedspread, groaning with oversensitivity.

Shouto, clearly not finished with his teasing, began gently pulling the skin of Bakugou’s underthighs between his teeth. Alternating between nibbling and licking at the pinked patches of skin until Bakugou’s legs were wrapping around his shoulders to bring his face closer. And finally, finally, Shouto decided to show a moment of mercy, because he brought his lips to Bakugou’s entrance and sucked.

The sudden flash of pleasure coursed its way through Bakugou’s body like a thunderclap CHRIST HOLY FUCK as his toes curled and his head tossed back, mouth dropping open on a silent scream and MOTHERFUCKING GODDAMN his back arched so violently his elbows almost touched underneath him JESUS EVERLOVING and Shouto wouldn’t fucking stop, he just kept his lips there and Bakugou’s eyes were wide open under the blindfold, unseeing and SHIT FUCKING HELL his legs were hugging Shouto’s head, muscles tense and spasming FUCK HE WAS SO CLOSE --

And just like that, Shouto pulled away, letting Bakugou’s back hit the bed again and keeping a safe hold on his hips while the blonde heaved for air. Vaguely he remembered he should still be trying to reach the headboard, and he weakly lifted his arms back over his head, but he was completely boneless. It felt like his skin was a million volts. He could feel the sweat running over his panting chest, aftershocks from Shouto’s mouth sending tiny convulsions up his spine.

Izuku was sighing above him, and his hand returned to stroke over his stomach.

“Ah, if only you could see yourself right now, Kacchan. So sweaty and desperate. Trying so hard to be good for us, but failing. How pathetic.”

A wet tongue licked a long stripe up Bakugou’s abs, dipping into the valleys of his muscles and tracing up over a nipple. Bakugou’s body tried to arch into the touch again, but he couldn’t manage to raise himself more than a couple hairwidths off the bed before collapsing into a shaking mess once again with a breathless moan.

“Alright, Kacchan. I’m feeling nice right now, so I’ll help you. Aren’t I the best?”

Bakugou’s lower back complained as his hips were placed back on the bed, still held firm by Shouto. The body that had been on Bakugou’s left shifted, lifting up and over Bakugou until a weight dipped into the sheets on his other side. Izuku’s knee? Was Izuku straddling him?

Bakugou’s question was answered when two hands splayed flat over his chest and strong, bare thighs squeezed into his sides. The center of Izuku’s weight lowered onto Bakugou’s stomach, grinding into him while a pair of lips tickled right below his jaw.

“God, you look so good like this, Kacchan.”

When Izuku spoke it was a hot breath on Bakugou’s throat and a deep, sultry growl right into Bakugou’s ear and it forced a whine from the him as he squeezed his eyes shut underneath the blindfold. The hands on his chest massaged their way up to his shoulders, running over his biceps and gently guiding them upwards. When Izuku’s hands were around his wrists, he tugged them forward so that Bakugou’s palms fully met the cool wood of the headboard. The contact brought such a profound sense of relief that Bakugou let out a sob.

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it, baby? Now just relax and let Shoucchan take care of you.”

Bakugou grunted as Izuku scooched farther up to sit on his chest, still holding his wrists to the board. The other, warmer hand holding Bakugou’s hip migrated to the underside of his right knee, pressing it towards Bakugou’s chest again to spread him wide.

Bakugou had been expecting Shouto’s tongue and he sighed with pleasure when he felt it return. But then a finger slid into him as well and he shouted, practically bucking Izuku off his chest. Izuku laughed, releasing his grasp on Bakugou’s wrists in order to press his own palms against the back of Bakugou’s and using his absurd strength to keep Bakugou pinned in place.

Shouto’s tongue circled his finger as it crooked inside Bakugou, pumping it in and out until the ring of muscle had relaxed enough for him to add another one. Every movement sent jarring shocks through the blonde and he did his best to meet each push with a roll of his hips, trying to get them as deep inside as possible and little by little he felt himself teeter towards release. The closer he got, the more incoherent mumbling spilled from his lips, echoing around the room.

Izuku giggled again in his ear. “Ah, I’m so glad we have you, Kacchan. I can barely remember what it was like back when Shoucchan and I were admiring you between classes at UA. Do you have any idea how hard it was for us? After we realized how badly we wanted to touch you? To claim you?”

A particularly loud moan met his words, and he dipped to suck a flushed dot into Bakugou’s taut neck. Bakugou’s adam’s apple bobbed against his lips. Izuku’s soft voice, thick with lust, was too much for Bakugou to handle while he was being opened up by Shouto. Izuku seemed to notice this.

“What is it, Kacchan? Something you want to tell me? Is it something I said?”

Bakugou nodded feebly.

“Yeah, I know you like it. You want me to keep talking, don’t you?”

Bakugou nodded again, this time cutting himself off with a sharp keen as Shouto added a third finger.

“What do you want me to tell you?” Whispered Izuku, breath fanning over Bakugou’s cheek. He paused to bite playfully under Bakugou’s ear, making him squeak. “That I had to beg Shoucchan for weeks to get a piece of you before we decided to actually do something about it? That we saw the way you looked at us in the hallway, and how hard it was not go running to you when you blushed the way you did? Because it’s true.”

Every syllable sank like a drug into Bakugou’s system. He felt dizzy, weightless under Izuku. He and Shouto were the only two people in Bakugou’s world right now, and Bakugou could think of nothing but them. The pleasure in his stomach coiled tighter and tighter and he knew Shouto knew he was close because he was intentionally avoiding his most sensitive spot, goddammit.

“Or, do you want me to tell you how we could barely hold ourselves back after that first time, behind the sports shed? At first we were just curious, sure, but you should’ve seen how guilty Shoucchan looked when he told me he had feelings for you. As if I wouldn’t understand exactly how he felt about you.”

Bakugou was answering Izuku with high, frantic moans, only half able to pay attention with how much effort he was putting into gyrating on Shouto’s fingers. Shouto wasn’t making it easy for him, simply keeping his hand steady while Bakugou used his entire body to rock back and forth on it desperately. He waited, letting Bakugou bring himself to the edge, sitting patiently until each of Bakugou’s whimpers quirked up at the end as if he was asking the same wordless question over and over. Then he extracted his fingers.

Bakugou shuddered at the sudden emptiness before groaning furiously at Shouto. Nothing was more frustrating than not being able to swear at what was probably the smuggest fucking face just then. He kicked out and wrapped his legs around Shouto’s waist, trying to guide him back, but all he succeeded in doing was bringing his neglected cock into contact with Shouto’s stomach. Before Bakugou could stop himself he was rutting against him, almost driven to hysterics. Izuku laughed at his desperation and shifted lower on Bakugou’s chest.

“You think you’re ready for Shoucchan? Sorry, baby, but you have to do something for me first.”

Before Bakugou could wonder what the hell the guy meant, his hands were released from their hold against the headboard. Izuku scooted backwards, trailing his hands back down Bakugou’s arms and chest before reaching behind him and taking Bakugou’s dick into his fist. Bakugou groaned, loud and guttural, at the touch. Now that his arms were free he instinctively clutched at Izuku’s thighs -- and thanked the sky when the other didn’t berate him for breaking their rule again.

“Good thing you and Shoucchan prepared me beforehand.”

This was the last warning Bakugou got before a wet, tight heat sat itself over his cock.

The blonde’s voice cracked as he moaned again through the soaked fabric of the tie, gripping Izuku’s muscled legs for dear life as the other joined him in the chorus.

Ah, K-Kacchan, you’re so thick. . .” Izuku whined as he settled himself fully onto Bakugou. The scarred hands returned to his body, groping over his chest and stomach eagerly. Bakugou responded with an involuntary thrust upward, making Izuku suck in a sharp breath.

Shouto had been motionless while his boyfriends got themselves comfortable, but as soon as Izuku was seated he disappeared for a moment before returning to press himself against Bakugou’s entrance.

The pressure was warm and wet and so fucking overdue that Bakugou moaned at Shouto, garbled and obscene. His chest rose and fell with each quick gasp he pulled in, excited and anxious at the same time. The hands trailing around his body fell flat to his pecs again, pushing down gently before one came up to cup his cheek.

“Hey, hey, Kacchan, calm down. Shoucchan will take care of you, I promise. You’ve been so good for us, just relax.”

Bakugou tried to obey. His breathing slowed but his hips were shoving down against Shouto’s cock insistently, absolutely out of Bakugou’s control. He let go of Izuku’s leg with one hand so he could bring it up to fist in the sheets beside his head. Shouto took one more breath before bracing Bakugou’s legs and pushing himself inside.

Several things happened all at once: the fire inside Bakugou’s body dissipated for a second in soothing, satisfying pleasure before Shouto reached that spot inside of him and it immediately leapt back up into an inferno, and Izuku began lifting himself up on his knees, pulling at Bakugou’s dick and it was like he was being stuffed full and wrung out to dry at the same time. His voice was punched out of him, jaws clenching on a scream that made no noise, and it only returned when Izuku and Shouto started moving in tandem with each other.

Soon all three of them were moaning together, the sounds of sex mixing in the room. Izuku was being the loudest now; Bakugou had long since grown hoarse. With every roll of his hips on Bakugou’s cock he melted onto the blonde’s chest and groaned right into his ear. Izuku didn’t even have to move much on his own because he was easily jostled back and forth with each of Shouto’s heavy thrusts.

“Oh, G-God, it. . . feels so good~” Izuku practically sang, the pitch in his voice rising and falling in time with the movements. Bakugou could feel him across his whole front, skin slick and soft and mottled with scar tissue. With every push their cheeks and noses bumped together and Bakugou savored the warmth and the scent of his hair.

And just like that, it was gone again. Izuku cried out wantonly as he was lifted away from Bakugou, all his weight shifting back onto his haunches. Shouto sped up his thrusts, catching Bakugou by surprise, and Bakugou realized how dangerously close to release he was. He wouldn’t be able to make it more than a few breaths and no, no, he didn’t want that without being able to see Izuku and Shouto. But his hands were free now, so he raised one with the last of his strength and tugged the tie out of his mouth before wiggling a thumb under his blindfold and flipping it up.

Bakugou’s throat discovered it had the ability to swallow again one treacherous moment before his eyes blinked open blearily, so it wasn’t ready for the sharp inhale that he sucked in at the sight before him. He choked.

Izuku was indeed sitting above him, thick thighs spread over Bakugou’s middle. His pink cock bounced obscenely against the muscles in his belly, which were stretched taut as he leaned backward, smattered with freckles and lined with tiny rivulets of sweat. One arm braced against Bakugou’s leg while the other raised over his shoulder to cradle Shouto’s head. A long tendon in Izuku’s neck was clearly visible as he tilted his head to the side, baring himself for Shouto, who was sinking his teeth into the flesh of Izuku’s shoulder. The look on Izuku’s face was one of pure bliss, complete with slack lips and glassy eyes.

Shouto had released Bakugou’s legs to pull Izuku off Bakugou’s chest and hold him close, giving Bakugou a full view of the both of them as Izuku fell apart. Bakugou didn’t realize that Shouto had done it on purpose; that he figured Bakugou would pull off the blindfold, until their eyes met and Bakugou could feel the heat in his gaze. And just as he made the connection, before he could even think to appreciate Shouto’s efforts, the other leaned all of his weight into fucking Bakugou.

Bakugou’s vision swam with tears as Shouto hit the right angle inside of him over and over and he fought to keep his eyes open to watch his boyfriends bring themselves to the limit. The burning underneath his skin reached a crescendo and his body seized, bucking up as he came into Izuku.

Izuku was at his end as well, releasing Bakugou’s leg to jerk himself off onto his boyfriend’s stomach. He clenched around Bakugou as he finished, sending white-hot spasms of overstimulation through the blonde. Bakugou’s voice was almost completely gone now, but he croaked dryly as Shouto continued pounding into him. By the time even Shouto’s thrusts started getting more erratic Bakugou was absolutely trembling through a second orgasm. Shouto pressed his forehead into Izuku’s nape as he staggered to a stop, groaning breathlessly.

Bakugou let his head fall back into his pillows with a loud wheeze as Izuku lifted himself off his dick. His eyes finally slipped shut, colors popping behind his lids as lingering sensations traveled up and down his spine. He could feel Izuku shuffle off to the side before dropping heavily next to Bakugou, curling up under his arm. Bakugou instinctively shifted so that his shoulder was acting as a pillow and his hand could come up to lay on the other’s waist. Shouto didn’t even bother to move before he tipped over, head resting on Bakugou’s chest.

They lay there in silence for a few minutes until Bakugou couldn’t take it anymore.

“Okay, losers, no falling asleep. Get up, we’re taking a shower.”

Shouto grumbled wordlessly in response.

“Don’t ‘hhnngff’ me. I’m covered in spunk, this is disgusting.”

“Kacchaaaann,” Izuku whined, batting at Bakugou’s face with a limp hand without even lifting his head. “Let’s just stay here, I’m sleepy.” He yawned as if to prove his point and it was almost cute enough to quiet Bakugou. Almost.

“How are you so tired? You’re not the one that just got edged for damn near an hour!”

“An hour? Don’t be silly, baby, that was barely twenty minutes.” Izuku snuggled deeper into Bakugou’s side stubbornly.

“Sh-shut up. We said we’d make progress today, and none of these boxes have been unpacked.”

“I would argue we made plenty of progress,” Shouto retorted, words muffled on Bakugou’s skin.

“It’s true!” Agreed Izuku. The hand that was smacking Bakugou raised up to gesture widely at the room around them. “I can’t think of a better way to christen a new apartment!”

Bakugou blushed. They’d graduated UA more than four years ago, and Bakugou still couldn’t seem to manage keeping his cool around his unashamedly salacious boyfriends. Why he was still with them through rigorous hero training, internships, long-distance agency assignments, near-death deployment, and the partnership of their own offices, he’d never know.

That was a lie. He did know.

“I hate both of you. Get up.”

Izuku groaned and lifted his head just enough to rest his chin painfully on Bakugou’s collarbone and look over at the clock on their bedside table.

“It’s only 3:00,” he said. “There’s still enough time to take a nap and order a pizza before we get started on the kitchen.”

Shouto also peeled his face from Bakugou’s chest to look up at him expectantly. For having such a natural resting bitch face, the man had surprisingly persuasive puppy eyes. Not to mention Izuku’s gaze had returned to him as well to fix him with an irresistible pout. Bakugou heaved a sigh.

“Fine, sure, fine. But first we’re showering, goddammit.”