Chapter 1: Deku Gets Lucky
Summary:
Deku learns something new.
Chapter Text
“What?!”
Deku dropped his pen. His voice had joined the chorus of surprise of the others in the room, who were sprawled out on the couches and all staring at Ojiro, mouths open in shock.
“Are you sure? You and Hagakure?” Sero looked torn between incredulous laughter and nausea. He was picturing it; they all were, even Deku, whose face felt hotter with every second.
“It was just one time,” Ojiro said with a shrug, although the end of his tail swished anxiously as he spoke. “And we never talked about it again.”
“No, no, I mean, are you absolutely sure?” A wide grin was spreading on Sero’s face. “I mean, how could you even tell?”
As Ojiro stuttered out an explanation while the rest of Deku’s brain fizzled out.
When he decided to hang back at the common area to finish his homework that night, this was admittedly not the kind of conversation he had been expecting from his co-stragglers. Apart from Sero and Ojiro, they were joined by the likes of Jirou, Momo, Kirishima while the rest of 1-A were upstairs in their beds.
All their work was done, filled notebooks scattered all over the place as a testament to their hard work. Conversation topics that revolved around classwork minutes ago (dominated by Momo) now were steered, thanks to Sero, toward relationships, of which Deku could provide zero input, so he stayed quiet while everyone teased Jirou about Kaminari and then moved on to Ojiro and…
Ojiro had just admitted to having sex with Hagakure.
It was something he had never wanted nor needed to imagine. He was already hard-pressed to think of anything other than hero class, being a student of UA. So where did they even find the time or place to…?
Deku’s mind was getting carried away with all sorts of questions, like if you could actually see Ojiro’s you-know-what while he was… Well, of course you wouldn’t be able to, because it’s not like food was still visible whenever Hagakure ingested some… And oh-god-why-was-he-imagining-it—
“Midoriya!”
“Huh!” He jumped, embarrassed yet thankful for the interruption.
“We were asking…” Sero’s grin was widening in a scary way. Everyone was looking at Deku for some reason, even pink-faced Ojiro. “If you know who else in class would be the best partner for quirk sex.”
“Q-quirk sex?! Why would I know that?!” He couldn’t stop the hysteria creeping into his voice. Of course he knew what quirk sex entailed. It was self-defining, really. It was not an uncommon reason for a couple to get married. It was Mineta’s favorite category in YouPr0n. And yeah, maybe once or twice, even he’d wondered if heroes like Kamui Woods and Mount Lady ever indulged… Maybe with each other, if the rumors were true.
“You’re always scribbling in your notebook, after all,” piped up Jirou. Her blush had reached her earlobes.
Deku blanched. He really should've just done his homework in his own room. “I write observations about heroes but not about… That,” he finished lamely, and tried to ignore the embarrassment churning within him at everyone's visible disappointment. Jirou then mumbled something about Kaminari’s electricity and there was another round of teasing leveled at her instead, which Deku was secretly thankful for as it removed all attention from him.
When Jirou finally yelled that no, she and Kaminari had not, in fact, hooked up, but that she did wonder how quirk sex would be with him (after all, didn’t everyone, with everyone else? She insisted) and that was all. Eventually, it was Momo came to her defense.
“Well, the answer to Sero’s question is really simple, actually.” She rolled her eyes, miffed that no one else had arrived at the same instantaneous conclusion. “If we’re talking with regards to quirk sex when it comes to penetration—” She continued, ignoring the nervous laughs and Sero’s wolf-whistling.
“—Then, obviously, there are only four people in this class for whom quirk sex would be heightened due to their natural ability to produce their own lubricant. Mina, Tsuyu, myself, and Bakugo.”
That sent the whole group into another uproar as everyone emitted noises of shock. Kirishima’s surprised laugh quickly transitioned into a coughing fit.
“Okay, I get it for the girls…” Sero began with a quelling look at Momo, his eyebrows having disappeared into his hairline. At the same time, he was patting Kirishima’s back and waited for his coughing to subside. “Mina makes juice, Tsuyu makes frog juice, and you can make… Well, pretty much anything. But Bakugo? He explodes! I wouldn’t want his hands near my junior.”
Amidst the laughter, Momo pressed her finger to her lips in a musing way, looking hesitant to say more. But they were all staring at her, waiting for her to go on. Finally, she relented with a huff.
“You’ve all noticed it, I’m sure. That Bakugo’s skin practically glows, and that he smells different. Like caramel, almost. I asked him about it before. He reacted angrily at first, but after that he explained that he gets it from his mom, who produces glycerin everywhere. So, naturally, I’d say he’s just as capable of self-lubricating.”
“Baku-!” Sero shouted, but Jirou slapped a hand over his mouth. Even Ojiro, perpetually the straight man, was sporting a strange expression, one torn between disturbance and amusement.
And then, Deku noticed it. For a moment, Kirishima had made a face. An unrecognizable expression had crossed his features, one Deku never expected to see from him. It was there, and then gone in a flash. But he couldn’t dwell on that. His mind was still reeling from the overload of new information.
“Um!” Deku felt heat course through his veins, for once not due to embarrassment but something else. It pierced through him painfully: white, hot… Betrayal? Disappointment? That despite being the number one note-taker of Kacchan since childhood, he had never once considered those aspects of his quirk.
He quickly excused himself from the discussion, while everyone was distracted by Sero rolling on the floor cackling as Jirou jabbed him with her earjacks. Instinct directed Deku to his room where he fell upon his knees, hunched over with his notebook open at his lap. He flipped through the burnt pages and found his familiar Bakugo Katsuki section.
ABILITIES
STATS
COMMENTS/OBSERVATIONS
Under the last bullet point, his shakily-held pen added to the messy scribbles born out of every punch, kick and insult Kacchan had thrown at him over the years.
Possible
He paused.
Secondary quirk effects: Sweet odor due to glycerin secretion,
Another pause. His fingers trembled, and he gripped the pencil so tight his knuckles were starting to pale.
Self-lubrication
Cheeks warm, Deku’s hand practically vibrated as he underlined it. Three times. Then belatedly added three question marks before slamming the book shut, as if someone were about to peer over his shoulder and read it. He undressed and went to bed. Sleep was going to be impossible, so he replayed the night’s events in his head. The jokes, the way all his classmates had all transformed into weirdly sexualized versions of themselves overnight. Quirk sex. Momo’s theory.
Kirishima’s reaction in particular.
There was no mistaking it: Kirishima had smirked.
He knew something about Kacchan that no one else did.
Not even Deku.
Why did that bother him so much?
--
It was difficult to not stare at Kacchan after that, especially when the blond sat right in front of him in class. Getting a whiff of his scent (which now seemed overpowering compared to before, thanks a lot, Momo) was enough to make Deku feel anxious, for reasons he himself did not know. So what if Kacchan’s quirk had weird sexual side effects? What was it to him?
It occurred to Deku that his perception of Kacchan wasn’t the only one that had changed overnight. He noticed Jirou stealing glances at him, too, as was Ojiro. Sero was much less subtle, having winked and said “Smelling sweet today, aren’t we?” when Kacchan happened to walk past him. To that Sero received an explosive jab in the stomach, which wasn’t unexpected. Momo looked understandably guilty about the whole thing.
A few days later and the aftermath of that fateful night had everyone reeling.
After much ribbing, Hagakure finally cracked, right when everyone got up and was about to exit the classroom for lunch. She screamed, literally, that Ojiro and her were now dating.
Her screaming, deafening as it was, had been understandable, considering half the time the class tended to forget she was even there. Everyone’s looks of surprise quickly morphed into smiles. There were scattered messages of congratulations, cooing from the other girls (and jokingly, Sero and Kaminari). Mineta was soon punted out of the classroom after badgering them for details.
And so, with that, the Pandora’s box of teenage sexuality, which was previously untouched, sealed and gathering dust in a school full of hero-obsessed students, was not just opened but blown wide open.
After that, it seemed to have become a social contagion of sorts: couples were pairing up left and right. Some had been predictable (like Jirou and Kaminari), while others only made sense after having given them some thought (Kendo and Tetsutetsu of Class 1-B, who were spotted holding hands – large and steel hands, respectively).
And some, no one wanted to think about at all: Shouji was spotted entering Tokoyami’s room occasionally, and when pressed for answers, he simply looked askance and said he couldn’t talk about it, but only clarified that he simply couldn’t be on his own floor at that moment.
--
Deku never expected to get caught up in it, too.
But one day, Todoroki was sitting beside him in the cafeteria. Iida and Uraraka had left early to see Hatsume for costume upgrades.
“Midoriya. Would you like to try dating?” Deku was in the middle of getting up from the bench, and nearly threw his tray by accident when he heard those words. When he glanced at Todoroki, slack-jawed, the latter still maintained an expressionless face. You would’ve thought he’d just asked about the weather.
“Huh?” He froze. “Dating?” He sat back down. “With you?” Turned to Todoroki, who still looked ever so blank. “You? Todoroki?” And then he finally blurted out: “Why?”
Todoroki only shrugged. “Everyone’s doing it. We get along. Why not?”
Deku had been so caught off guard, he couldn’t think of anything to say. But apparently, while his mind had packed its bags and gone on vacation, his lips had moved on their own, and he had ended up squeaking out something that sounded like “Sure?”
“Great.” And Todoroki went back to eating his food.
That’s how he and Todoroki unwittingly and undramatically became boyfriends.
--
Turns out having a boyfriend was strange, but in a good kind of way. He’s not even sure how anyone else found out, and so quickly at that, but hours later and people were already being nicer to him for some reason, classmates congratulating him and clapping him on the back like he’d just won the sports festival.
Teachers became more eager to pair him with Todoroki during training. That, he appreciated considerably. Todoroki, after all, was a challenging fighter, and Deku knew sparring with him would improve his combat experience.
“You’re so cute together!” Uraraka had taken to saying every time she joined them for lunch.
“But we haven’t even done anything?” Deku replied.
“Oh, but everyone wants to date Todoroki! Er, and you too, Deku, of course! So lucky!” Hearing that only confused Deku further. Because dating Todoroki didn’t seem to be the glorious experience everyone was picturing: it meant having lunch at the cafeteria together, and occasionally studying together, and partnering in training sessions together, which they had always done, so Deku wondered deep down if this could even be considered dating at all.
Perhaps Todoroki had been thinking the same thing. He approached Deku the next afternoon outside the dorm, while Deku was practicing his kicks in the yard. It was the first time Deku had seen Todoroki look nervous. Despite his usual stoic façade he was blinking a bit more, and his hands were balled into fists.
“Midoriya, do you… Want to try kissing?”
“What?” He paused mid-kick and lowered his leg. “Oh… Um, yeah! Sure.” They decided to sit down on the porch, in a spot that wasn’t in view of the windows. Neither of them would be able to stand the teasing that followed if anyone saw. They sat, nervously, beside each other, hands in their laps.
The silence was deafening as they both turned, and, slowly and awkwardly, brought their lips together for what he was certain was the shortest kiss in human history.
“How was it?” Deku asked tentatively.
“It was okay.” Todoroki didn’t look any different, just more alert, he supposed. Deku struggled to continue the conversation.
“Uh… Was that your first kiss?”
“Yeah. Yours?”
“Hmm, no.” He couldn’t help but avert his gaze as he said it. “But it was good!”
“That’s nice,” Todoroki said, getting up and dusting off his trousers. “I’ll go do my homework now. Bye, Midoriya.”
“Bye, Todoroki.”
Deku looked up at the sky, focusing on a particular cloud that vaguely resembled a chili pepper. Yep, having a boyfriend was extremely strange.
--
Now that interactions in 1-A seemed more charged than ever before, it seemed people were finding increasingly bizarre ways of bonding outside of classes. Deku still didn’t know how he ended up in the common area again, but here he was, sitting in a circle with his classmates.
He had practically been bullied into playing Truth or Dare, because everyone else was participating, too, albeit most of them reluctantly. The only ones who weren’t around were Momo, Bakugo and Todoroki. Momo because she had gone to talk to Aizawa about how to improve her already stellar grades; and the latter two having gone to bed early. It seems they never let go of those old habits even after their remedial lessons were over.
Mineta, however, bowed out of the game the moment Iida dictated the rules: nothing past kissing, plus twenty other restrictions Deku cared not to remember. So no one was taking this watered down version of the game all too seriously, and were giving safe questions and dares. That is, until Aoyama took the plunge, and dared Tsuyu to kiss Tokoyami.
“Now we’re getting somewhere!” Cheered Kaminari. His arm was around a blushing Jirou, who jabbed him ("Don't be gross!").
As it turns out, watching two classmates pressured to kiss each other wasn’t as titillating as everyone thought it would be. It was more awkward than anything, but it did answer the question of how exactly someone like Tokoyami kissed: with immense difficulty, as it turned out. Tsuyu then Truth-or-Dare’d Tokoyami, and he chose Truth. “Was that your first kiss, too?” He nodded.
Mina let out a dramatic gasp, her hands covering her mouth. “Ooooh, so you and Shouji…?”
Deku didn’t even know it was possible for Tokoyami to turn green, but somehow he’d managed that feat.
“Hmm.” He clicked his beak, looking much rather like he could be anywhere but here. “Since it’s my turn, and I feel this is a matter that needs clearing immediately, I choose Shouji. Truth or dare.”
“Dare,” Shouji replied, his expression questioning. “But if it’s alright for me to say, please don’t make me take off my mask.”
“I would never. But I do dare you to tell everyone why you have to keep going to my room.” Whispers had erupted around the circle now. Shouji, however, merely sighed and ran a hand through his silvery hair.
“It’s because of… what Kirishima’s been doing in his room that makes it quite difficult to concentrate.” A chorus of "oooooh's'" filled the common area, dramatic tension having increased tenfold. Collectively, everyone turned to Kirishima with raised eyebrows, some even whooping.
“What? Me?!” For the first time, Kirishima looked like he’d been caught completely off-guard. His face was as red as his hair, and he was about to sputter out a retort when Shouji spoke again.
“…But in the spirit of fairness, I won’t select Kirishima for truth or dare. I’ll select Midoriya.”
Deku picked Truth, taking a mental note of the way Kirishima sighed in relief. Everyone groaned when Shouji asked him an innocuous question about the training regime he used for his arms, which he answered with ease.
“Alright, then,” Deku said loudly. He'd noticed the bored expressions around him. “I’ll ask Kirishima. Truth or Dare?” It worked instantly. The sense of thrill had returned. A few of them burst into giggles, while some, like Sero and Kaminari, clapped in delight.
“Ugh, Midoriya!” The redhead looked panicked again. “Truth! No, wait! Dare!”
He smiled broadly in response. “Whatever you’re doing in your room, I dare you to do it a little softer, as I’m sure Shouji would rather study in his own room instead of going to Tokoyami’s all the time.” He had done it to be nice, but to his surprise there was only more uproar. Sero threw up his hands in exasperation.
“You should’ve dared him to say who he was doing!”
“Oh, but…” Deku felt himself visibly deflating. “I wanted to help out Shouji…” His classmates, on the other hand, appeared to have abandoned the game completely and were now drilling Kirishima with questions.
“Who is it, Kirishima?”
“Is it someone in this circle?”
“It’s gotta be someone from Class B!”
“A teacher, maybe? A hot one?!”
“Who said I’m doing anyone?!” Kirishima said defensively. “You’re all a bunch of nosey creeps, you know that?”
“Tell us! Tell us! Tell us!” The rest started chanting, some even urging Shouji to spill.
“I won’t be divulging anything else. It’s Kirishima’s secret to keep,” Shouji said, in an attempt to stop the madness. But it only emboldened them further.
“Tell us! Tell us! TELL US!”
“Christ! See if I lend any of you idiots my dumbbells ever again!”
“Not like we can’t just go in and take them!” Jeered Mina. “You never lock your room!”
“Shut up!” Kirishima stood up and began to retreat, face burning. He glared at Deku, who shrank back. “I’ll get you for this, Midoriya, I swear!”
When he was gone, a white hot realization struck Deku. The threat had been an empty one, everyone knew that. But in his determination to embody the spirit of the game and keep it fun, he had most likely thrown away his only chance to get more information out of Kirishima on Kacchan.
Retreating into his own mind, Deku contemplated. Kirishima was doing something in his room, something loud enough for Shouji to hear, and yet had carefully found a way not to reveal it. He had denied he was “with” someone, but Deku had never seen him so evasive. What other option could it be?
But was that ‘someone’ really Kacchan? It was… Plausible… Kacchan was only a room away, after all. Anyone else would’ve been caught sneaking into Kirishima’s room, wouldn’t they? Unless they only had to take a few steps from their own.
He was so busy mentally kicking himself that he barely registered Jirou having the truth fished out of her – that she and Kaminari had done it. And then Kaminari went around high-fiving everyone, but missed Deku’s palm because he’d raised his a little too late. Which only intensified the hollow sensation welling up in him, that all of a sudden, despite being here, laughing with everyone, he had never felt more left out.
--
Deku and Todoroki had taken to studying together in the library. There were very few occupants, which gave them the peace and quiet they needed to finish their homework.
The illusion of peace and quiet was abruptly shattered when Deku spotted Kacchan walking closer to them. Panicking, he suddenly grabbed Todoroki’s hand on the table. In doing so, he accidentally elbowed Todoroki’s math book. It landed on the floor with a thud, which caught Kacchan’s attention.
He only spared them a moment’s glance, but Deku saw his gaze immediately trail down to their joined hands.
Kacchan scoffed. “As if anyone wants to see that. Losers.” And stalked off. Deku sighed in relief. That hadn’t lasted long, thankfully.
“What’s his problem?” Todoroki asked.
“I don’t know,” Deku said absently, gazing at Kacchan’s retreating back. “Probably bitter ‘cause no one wants him?”
He knew, especially coming from him, that that had been a harsh thing to say. But being with Todoroki – his boyfriend, he reminded himself – was a welcome distraction from the "self-lubricating Kacchan: Truth or Myth?" conundrum. That had kept him up for more nights than he could count. But even the people present during Momo’s spiel seemed to have forgotten that bit about Kacchan entirely, now firmly engrossed in who was shacking up with who.
Besides, Deku reasoned, Momo had been wrong a couple of times. So her claim would remain a theory that could neither be confirmed nor denied.
Unless... His deepest instincts were right, and Kirishima was somehow involved.
If the redhead’s reactions during those two nights were to believed, though, then the answer was yes.
“Midoriya, you’re squeezing my hand.”
“Am I? Sorry!” He slackened his grip, but his hand remained on Todoroki’s, until the other spoke again.
“It’s okay. But could you let go for a bit so I can pick up my book?” Deku blinked.
“Oh, yeah. Sure.”
As Todoroki dove under the table to retrieve it, Deku figured that spending time dwelling on Kacchan and Kirishima was just making him ill at ease. And for what? He still couldn’t even put a finger on why exactly he needed to know so badly. Morbid curiosity, perhaps? But it was really none of his business.
Kirishima’s smirk.
Kirishima denying that he was involved with anyone.
The images flashed in his mind again and Deku hated the familiar pang of annoyance that followed. He needed to get over this, or else he’d go crazy. Todoroki resurfaced, leafing through the book's pages.
“Todoroki… Wanna get some food?”
--
“Who do you think it was this time?” Mineta grumbled as he and Deku descended the stairs. The beeping of the smoke alarm wailed above them. “Aoyama or Bakugo?”
“Excusez-moi! I am right here,” Aoyama said crossly, appearing behind them, but Mineta didn’t even bother to turn around.
“Sorry, but not sorry…”
The trio made their way to the common area, being among the last ones to arrive despite living only a floor above. In Deku’s defense, he had been roused from his sleep by the alarm, and looked like he wasn’t the only one. Kouda, in bunny pajamas complete with a carrot-print hat, was rubbing his eyes blearily. Momo finished her headcount while Iida lectured a very apologetic-looking Satou.
One look at the smoke coming from the kitchen told them all that Satou must’ve indulged in some late-night baking that went awry. Scanning the familiar faces around him, Deku realized two were missing.
“…Where are Kacchan and Kirishima?” Deku asked, blinking.
Satou was the one who answered. “They passed by me earlier, said they were going to train together.”
The wall clock read 11:03 PM. “At this hour?”
Beside him, Sero chuckled. “You’re the one who told him to pipe down in his room, you know. Guess he…” He stopped mid-sentence to let out a loud yawn. “Guess he really was just working out after all…”
“I’ll check on them,” Deku said determinedly. He suddenly felt wide awake.
--
He’d gotten to the gym in a record thirty-five seconds and found it empty. Some of the cement columns Cementoss had built for impact training had had holes burned through them, meaning Kacchan had definitely been here. Others were heavily chipped, with large chunks littering the floor. Definitely a hallmark of Kirishima's.
But where were they? If not here, then… The locker room was the only other optioin.
Deku didn’t use One for All this time. He opened the door as quietly as he could and crept in.
“Fuck!”
That voice. Deku froze. Then a strong scent hit his nostrils… Something cloying…
Caramel.
But it’d never been this strong before, so intense it made him light-headed. More importantly, he’d know that tone anywhere. It was followed by a familiar groan, coinciding with a second person panting. Deku knew. Knew what he was probably going to see when he peeked his head around the stack of lockers, so he did it as slowly as possible, shaking all the while.
He nearly had a heart attack, thoughts stuttering to a complete halt. He’d forgotten how to breathe, every organ from the chest up shutting down simultaneously at the sight before him.
Both of them were plainly visible, their bodies on display before him. They were on the floor. Kacchan had divested himself of nearly all parts of his costume excerpt for his shirt and (for some reason) gloves, covered forearms resting on Kirishima’s bare shoulders and wrists crossed behind the redhead’s neck. It resembled an intimate embrace, which was a gesture he never thought he'd see from Kacchan of all people…
Kirishima was mostly clothed, his headgear still secured around his face, which supported Deku’s theory that the training had been planned but this part was probably a spur-of-the-moment thing (wait, when did he theorize this?). The cape of Kirishima’s trousers fanned out on the floor, but the pants themselves were unzipped and open.
He clutched Kacchan’s waist through fingerless gloves, and Deku saw visible scratches all over Kacchan’s hips, some scabbed over while others were bright red… Was Kirishima seriously using his quirk on Kacchan? Seemed dangerous, but…
Kacchan’s legs were spread out over Kirishima’s lap, knees pushing against concrete as he constantly lifted himself up, and sunk down again, maintaining a rhythm that was punctuated by a squelching noise. Deku couldn’t see that part as clearly. The action was blocked by Kacchan’s pale ass and thighs, gloriously muscular even from the measly sideview he was getting. But he could definitely tell why Kacchan was getting more flushed by the second, though what exactly made Kirishima tighten his grip on Kacchan and emit a loud groan, he did not know.
Deku could not see Kirishima’s dick entering Kacchan from where he was standing, but he could certainly hear it. The noises were earsplitting. He caught glimpses of Kacchan’s own length, hard and glistening between them… Come to think of it, all of Kacchan’s skin was glistening, due to his sweat, no doubt. He remembered Momo’s comment about Kacchan glowing. Never had that description felt more apt than it did now.
“C’mon, c’mon…”
Kacchan moaned as he practically ground himself against Kirishima’s lap, an action that made the other male swear loudly. He was practically begging! Deku covered his own mouth, hypnotized by the huge difference in Kacchan's demeanor. Gone were the gritted teeth and roughness. Now he looked languid and graceful. His expression, though, remained determined. It was the same intense gaze he usually held while fighting, only in this case it was directed at Kirishima.
Of course, Kacchan was good at fucking, Deku thought wryly. Of course he was still so competitive even at sex.
“Katsuki,” Kirishima’s voice sounded ragged but he said Kacchan’s (first!) name with a fondness Deku hadn’t suspected he was capable of. Kacchan paused, the two locking eyes. They were being uncharacteristically mushy for two self-professed manly guys, but then again, the thought of said guys screwing in a locker room had been completely foreign to him a few minutes ago.
After staring each other down for a moment, Kacchan resumed his movements, panting. He picked up where he’d left off and was shifting to a rapid pace, riding Kirishima like his life depended on it. Deku had a twisted desire to move closer, to get a better view. He needed visual confirmation of Kirishima’s dick entering Kacchan, for… Reasons…
“Get hard, dammit,” Kacchan shot out, and furiously rocked against the body pressed against his. At first, Deku didn’t understand. Kirishima was definitely hard, or else Kacchan wouldn’t be throwing himself at his lap like that. But Kirishima was shaking his head, sighing.
“Kirishima…!” Deku had never heard Kacchan whine like that before. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not.
“No, don’t wanna hurt you... We’ve talked about this, man…”
And Bakugo threw his head back and let out a whimper of frustration, so desperate-sounding that it went straight to Deku’s dick. He couldn’t take it anymore, it was so, so wrong of him to see this. At last his conscience seemed to kick in so so he turned heel and ran all the way to the dorms, still breathing heavily by the time he had thrown himself on his bed.
Fuck, he was hard. And angry.
Because when it came down to it, it was… Unfair.
Unfair that Kacchan and Kirishima had been doing this for who-knows-how-long without anyone knowing. Probably way earlier than anyone else in class, even beating Ojiro and Hagakure, by the looks of it. While he and Todoroki had barely even kissed, still fumbling like awkward teenagers, Kacchan and Kirishima were fucking with the practiced ease of pornstars. What the hell!
It was unfair that Kacchan would let his guard down with Kirishima of all people, and yes, Deku may have accepted it long ago, back in Kamino, that Kirishima could somehow connect with Kacchan on a level that Deku never could. And oh, he thought to himself miserably as he threw an arm over his own face, they were connected alright, he had just seen it plain as day. But when did this start and why couldn’t he just put it aside?
He couldn’t even figure out what bothered him most about it.
Was it Kacchan having sex? Deku knew he tended to be overprotective over Kacchan but to this extent? Was it how Kacchan was willing to risk being spotted getting fucked in a public place, which was so unlike him? Was it the way he’d said Kirishima’s name, or the way Kirishima had called him ‘Katsuki’ like a lover would? Or demanded him to use his quirk… And Kirishima refused, which only made Kacchan more desperate…
He’d never seen Kacchan look so needy… He had no idea Kacchan would be so into quirk sex… But it made sense in a perverse way; of course Kacchan would find it impossible to separate quirks from intimacy.
And was it true: had Kacchan become wet on his own…? Deku hadn’t seen how they got in that position so that was the one question he still had no answers to, despite what he’d witnessed.
His heart was still beating furiously and his dick was still demanding attention. He rolled on his side and closed his eyes. The scene he’d just watched immediately started replaying in his mind.
God, he was so fucked up.
--
Deku’s first time with Todoroki… Turned out to not be a first time at all.
It was a complete mess. Not either of their faults, but still. They’d talked about it beforehand, and he showed up in Todoroki’s room, with a packet of condoms and some lube – both of which he’d swiped at the nurse’s office. Apparently Todoroki had done the same, so they had two of everything now, which they’d joked about pleasantly enough, before getting down to the actual business.
They’d sat on Todoroki’s bed, facing each other, and nodded as a sort of go signal. Thirty seconds later, Deku noticed that they were both trying to open condoms of their own.
“Wait, wait, wait!” He cried out, and when Todoroki finally noticed the issue he let out a resigned sigh.
“Looks like we have a problem.”
“So…” The awkward silence that followed went on for what seemed like minutes.
“Who’s going to…” Deku said, and at the same time Todoroki spoke. “I thought you would be the…”
Deku sat back in surprise, dropping the condoms. “Why?” Todoroki’s steely gaze met his own. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He said, a bit louder.
“Nevermind,” Todoroki responded. He let out a huff of frustration and regarded Deku carefully. “What do we do now then?”
They settled for awkwardly jerking off in front of each other, which Deku could now consider one of his more mortifying experiences. He couldn’t believe how badly he’d screwed up their night, and even though Todoroki was the picture of calm and accepting, even thanking Deku with a rare smile when Deku left, no doubt he’d been left as unsatisfied as Deku felt.
And the worst part was, Deku knew it was not Todoroki’s fault. Maybe they could have made it work, had Deku not been so distracted by… Other things. It was his problem, really, and he couldn’t help but feel guilty that his earlier suspicion had been true, and that it was not so much as sex in general not interesting him. Deep down, Deku knew that what he wanted was to have sex…
…With one person, in particular, but that person’s name was not Todoroki.
--
Mina’s the one who’d mentioned that Kirishima never locked the door to his room.
Deku was now in said room, sitting on his bed, his ear pressed to the wall. This is messed up, a small voice insisted in his head. But he’d taken his chance when he saw two familiar figures disappearing up the stairs, and he’d followed them at a safe distance, saw them enter Kacchan’s room. There was no going back now, he’d decided as soon as he'd turned the doorknob to Kirishima’s room and, incredulously, found it unlocked.
Kirishima and Kacchan’s voices were muffled, but he could distinguish them discussing schoolwork for several minutes. Deku’s heart escalated as he started to hear, finally, sounds of movement. Something rustled, and then there was a creak. The bed? UA’s walls really were paper thin, it seemed. No wonder Shouji couldn’t concentrate.
And then, Kirishima said something that completely knocked the breath out of Deku.
“You are so wet, holy shit.”
“Shut up,” came Kacchan’s immediate reply. There was more rustling. Deku closed his eyes and pictured Kacchan spread out on the sheets, Kirishima hovering over him.
He could feel the sensation roiling inside him again, the same one as when he’d first caught them: a mixture of fury, jealousy and arousal. He wondered if they would do it in the same position. The Kacchan and Kirishima in his mind’s eye promptly switched places. It was most likely for Kacchan to prefer being on top, so he could call the shots and dictate the pace, even if he was the one getting pounded.
“…Might be onto us, you know…” Babbled Kirishima. Deku frowned. Weren’t they about to fuck? Why the sudden change of pace? “Now that everyone in the class is practically dating…”
“…None of their business,” growled Kacchan. “They have nothing better to do than gossip about those two wonder boys anyway…”
“Midoriya and Todoroki?”
“Who else do you think I meant?” Deku's heart leapt, suddenly filled with elation. Kacchan was thinking of him. Even while in bed! “The way they get fawned over… As if they already don’t get praised enough for doing the bare minimum in this fuckin’ school… S’disgusting…”
“Soooo which one of them are you more jealous of?” There was a sound of a pillow hitting someone.
“Shut up and get your dick out already.”
Kirishima laughed, his voice muffled by the pillow but it sounded like “Bossy”. But apparently he did what Kacchan asked, because soon Deku could hear their familiar groans, only this time the squeaking of a bed now joined them. He squeezed his legs together. Heat was pooling in his groin. He couldn’t help it.
“Yeah,” Kacchan sighed. It was uncanny how his tone softened whenever he was in the middle of getting fucked. Deku was picturing the whole thing: Kacchan’s lean body, back arched as he plopped himself down on the lap of someone who, in his imagination, looked less like Kirishima and maybe, a little more like Deku. “That’s it…”
“Right there, Katsuki. So perfect.” Kirishima’s voice disrupted his fantasy a bit, but Deku screwed his eyes shut, trying to ignore him.
“Your dick, don’t fuckin’ hold back, dammit. I want it all. All of you, Kirishima!”
Ugh, ignoring Kirishima was admittedly hard to do with Kacchan screaming his name like that, but whatever. It still didn’t do anything to flag his boner.
The creaks were getting louder, and Deku sighed, appeased. The two on the other side of the wall were really going at it, technically less than a foot away from him. They were groaning, words no longer distinct. There were fewer pauses between their gasps. When Deku couldn’t take it anymore, he unzipped his pants and was just about to push down his underwear as well when there was a yell.
Kirishima.
“Ah fuck! Not again.” Kacchan swore, and there was a loud creak. He’d just moved off of Kirishima, most likely, as the redhead continued to apologize. “Sorry, sorry… You got me too turned on. I, uh, can take care of that if you want.”
“S’fine.” Kacchan’s voice was back to its normal pitch, gruff and annoyed. Deku’s hand was poised on his covered crotch, his brows furrowed. What was going on now? That was seriously it? Had Kirishima come too early? He hadn’t even gotten a chance to…
“You never let me,” Kirishima whined. Like the tides had turned in the blink of an eye, Deku had listened in for the sex but was now witness to what sounded like an escalating argument.
“You’re the one who never fuckin’ does what I ask!”
“I – I can barely control it, Katsuki, look at me, I turn into a spiky monster, what if I accidentally kill you or something?”
Whaaaaaat, was the only coherent thought left in Deku’s brain.
“Stupid. We’ve been over this. You couldn’t if you tried.”
“This is… Serious, I mean, is my dick not good enough as it is? Why are you so obsessed with this? It’s still quirk sex even if I’m not using all of my quirk…”
“I don’t give a shit about what counts as ‘quirk sex’, dumbass. It’s a stupid term. I want you, fuckin’… All of you, is it… Is it so bad to have… Certain preferences? Again: I want you, all of you. Literally. I want you to fucking go all out on me. I can take it!”
Kacchan... Seriously wanted Kirishima to fuck him… In fully hardened form?!
Deku’s eyes bugged out at the thought. What the hell? Did Kacchan have a death wish? Even for him, this was reckless beyond all reason.
“Maybe not all quirks are compatible with sex. I mean, yours happens to be, but—”
“Shut up shut up shut up… Mmmph…”
“Oh?” Kirishima’s tone was suddenly husky again, which only served to confuse Deku even more. They were cycling through moods at a rate his boner couldn’t keep up with. His irritation ebbed slightly when he heard Kacchan making small noises of pleasure, a lot more high-pitched than he would’ve expected. Cute…
“Feeling shy now, are we?”
“What’re you—” Kirishima apparently did something that left Kacchan unintelligible. Deku pulled his erection free and closed his eyes. Yeah, he could work with this.
“You even taste so much sweeter today… And look how much you’re leaking—”
If only Kirishima would stop talking…
“Idiot,” Kacchan said, voice strained. “Some of that’s from you!”
“Still…”
Deku got his wish eventually, because Kirishima fell silent. He could only guess what that same mouth was doing now, but it was clearly making Kacchan, very, very happy. Which was, of course, perfect for Deku, and he stroked himself to the tune of Kacchan’s gasps of pleasure.
When Kacchan (presumably) came with a strangled yell, Deku did so as well in complete silence, his knuckles between his teeth. The mess was all over his hand, and he stared down at it. It had gone quiet then on the other side of the wall. Maybe they had fallen asleep. Together, in each other’s arms.
How romantic of them, came the sarcastic thought that pierced through his orgasmic bliss. Deku stared down at the streaks of white on his hand for a moment, then looked around, recalling the bedroom he was currently in.
The overabundance of red, gym equipment scattered everywhere, poster of Crimson Riot on the wall, that off-putting clock with bulging arm muscles sticking out of it.
His expression hardened. Kirishima really had awful taste.
Unfair, a small voice in his head taunted. What does Kacchan see in him?
--
Class 1-A (meaning Mina and Aoyama) resolved to host a party before the long weekend. Monday was a holiday, and the teachers would be elsewhere attending a conference for two days after that, which meant five days of no classes. Everyone was set to leave the dorms the next morning. To celebrate their impending “mini-vacation”, they ordered fast food.
Iida forbade any alcohol, filling a punch bowl with Fanta and calling it "essentially the same thing, and far more considerate toward designated drivers". When Kaminari had pointed out that none of them had drivers' licenses, Iida got so distracted arguing with him that Sero managed to spike the punch behind his back in the end.
Jirou was in charge of the music. Strange, futuristic punk songs blared from the speakers while Mina tried to dance with anyone who’d get within two feet of her. She was currently trying to lecture Todoroki on how to do a two-step. He couldn’t get away despite whatever excuse he gave, as Mina maneuvered his arms around like a puppet.
Deku averted his gaze when he saw Todoroki looking around for help. He and Todoroki hadn’t really talked since that disastrous night. He figured he'd think of a solution while at home or something. Maybe some time apart would help…
(It struck him that they hadn’t even spent that much time together before their first 'fight').
Now if only he could be exempt from party games, he thought resentfully. For he had been roped into yet another round of Truth or Dare, and almost everyone in the circle had been picked already. God, what he could give to never have to see Mineta attempt a lapdance ever again.
“Hey! Midoriya!”
“What?” Deku looked across the circle. Everyone was watching him, and dread was already twisting in his stomach. Oh, no. “My turn already?”
“Yeah,” Kirishima said. “I picked you.”
For a moment, Deku wanted to punch Kirishima, without knowing why. No matter what he had, er, observed, Kirishima and him had always gotten along. He was a nice guy. Deku had to remind himself of that constantly nowadays. It was just especially hard to, right now, because said person was currently eyeing him in a very un-nice guy manner.
Kirishima was making that face again. Not a good sign. The one that had started all of this, screaming I know something you don’t. And then he grinned, shark teeth exposed and all. “Midoriya…” he said. His ruby red eyes glittered with foreboding. Deku gulped and waited.
“It’s time to get my revenge for your dare last time.”
He started to sweat. “No! No, please!”
But Kirishima only inhaled, then looked at Deku and grinned.
“I dare you to go up to Bakugo right now and kiss him.”
There were noises of surprise and outrage echoing around him, but Deku didn’t hear any of it. His mind had shut down temporarily. Even the loud music had dulled into a barely audible thrum as he choked out a response.
“K-Kacchan…?”
The shark grin only grew wider. “You heard me.”
“It’s over,” Sato muttered beside him. Deku shook his head frantically. What on earth was Kirishima playing at? Thought the idea of Deku and Kacchan together was a joke, did he?
But then, the revelations hit him all at once, that no one was supposed to know about Kirishima and Kacchan. And so, this was primarily about getting Deku to chicken out. Because anyone would’ve chickened out at that dare.
But Deku wasn’t just anyone.
“Alright then,” he said, and steadily rose to his feet. People started murmuring.
“Don’t do it, dude.”
“He’s a goner.”
“We’re gonna miss you, Midoriya!”
What they failed to notice was that, when Deku turned his back on the circle and made his way across the living room, he was smirking. Because he’d just come up with a plan.
Kacchan didn’t seem to be aware of what was about to transpire. He was loitering next to the punch, frowning at the cup in his hand as if it personally offended him (it probably did, in some way). Struggling to finish the rest of his putrid-tasting drink, no doubt, so he could escape the party. It was a miracle he’d even gone in the first place, but his presence could be chalked up to Kirishima’s presence, a detail that annoyed Deku more than he liked to admit.
Deku picked up the pace. He could feel the gazes on his back, the nervous thumping in his chest. Still, the blond didn’t notice him, instead turning around to place his empty cup back down on the table. He seemed slower. Less coordinated. Kacchan probably had no idea that Sero had spiked it. Tipsy Kacchan.
Perfect.
Deku tamped down whatever panic remained inside him. His heartbeat was no longer making his own ears throb, and instead was replaced by a familiar crackle as he closed the distance and grabbed Bakugo’s waist with both hands, thrusting both of their bodies forward. The other male let out a surprised grunt as his hips were suddenly pinned against the table. He jerked his head, lips already curled into a snarl.
“Who the—”
Deku didn’t waste time. He captured Kacchan’s lips in a forceful kiss. The music seemed to stop completely, as he could hear affronted yells from their classmates around him. Not that he cared. This was heaven, having his childhood friend’s sinewy back flushed against his chest. Deku’s hands were curled around Kacchan’s hipbones, keeping them in place as the blond jerked backward in protest.
Deku was distantly aware that his fingers were pressing directly against the spots where Kirishima had left his own marks. He tried not to let that thought distract him.
This… THIS was a kiss. He felt a tingle of pity for having bestowed a much inferior one on Todoroki. But Todoroki wasn’t Kacchan, and Deku couldn’t be more aware of that now that spiky hair was poking at his neck as he bent, somewhat awkwardly, to feel Kacchan’s lips properly.
He continued to explore Kacchan’s mouth with his own. A buzzing sensation in his body egged him on further, letting his tongue nudge the other. This probably wasn’t comfortable for Kacchan at all, who was only half-turned toward him and completely stiff. A hand was crackling on top of Deku’s – trying to burn it off, most likely, but Deku wouldn’t relent. Not yet.
He pushed forward, body and lips both, hips rocking against Kacchan’s. He wanted to make sure Kacchan could feel every inch of his hard-on. At the same time, he explored Kacchan’s mouth with the desperation of one dying of thirst, but the other’s tongue didn’t budge, refused to tangle with his own and that… That was expected. It would have to do for now.
Deku abruptly withdrew, with a wet smack that everyone definitely heard (not that he was in any way sorry). But he wasn’t done. He turned his head slightly and moved his lips against Kacchan’s ear.
“I’d show you the true power of One for All, but I’m not sure if you can take it,” he whispered.
Then he turned tail and ran.
“What the hell, you fucking-!”
Deku was already out of the room when he heard Kacchan roaring furiously after him. A few classmates were shouting, some encouraging Kacchan while others yelled escape tips at Deku. Deku was half-way past the hall, his chaser nowhere to be seen. He smirked – Kacchan was slower than he anticipated due to the alcohol, so he simmered his own power down to 12% as he zoomed toward his next destination, making sure Kacchan could still follow. Green energy bounced off the walls in his wake.
Finally, he could hear them, the explosions drawing steadily nearer. Deku could no longer distinguish one heartbeat from the next. There was a perpetual drilling in his chest as he enacted his plan and headed into the boys’ bathroom. Sighing in relief, he shut the door (leaving it unlocked) and positioned himself beside it, back pressed against the tile. A few seconds later the door slammed open again.
“Think you can hide from me? Stupid Deku, you’ve really done it this ti—” Deku knew that in some way, this could be considered cheating, because he could never overpower Kacchan without his quirk. But with One for All and Kacchan's drunkenness, grabbing him from behind and wrestling him to the floor was the easiest thing in the world.
He maneuvered the taller male onto his knees, and forced a hand against Kacchan’s nape. With the other he trapped Kacchan’s wrists behind his back. Kacchan was still struggling, trying to kick out at him but Deku simply increased the weight against his neck and pelvis. The end result was Kacchan being forced into a crouching position, head turned to the side with his cheek against the floor, bent over and on his knees, with his ass in the air. At level with Deku’s groin.
Kacchan struggled fruitlessly against him, spitting out more curses. Deku watched him, amused. His captive’s enraged expression switched to panic as lightning sizzled around them. Deku relished the thrum of energy rebounding around him. It certainly helped proved his point. From his own kneeling position behind Kacchan he bent down, making sure the blond could feel as much of his body as possible, together with the sheer power circulating through it.
“I know what you want, Kacchan.” He said in a low voice. Kacchan went abruptly still. “You want to be fucked, and Kirishima’s not doing it for you.”
The struggles immediately renewed, with Kacchan snarling “Get off!” But Deku easily spotted the red tinge now staining his cheeks. An embarrassed Kacchan. Cute.
“No. Not until you’ve heard my piece. I meant what I said about One for All. And that’s why you followed me, yeah? You want a taste?” The electricity around them crackled with emphasis, and Deku noted the way Kacchan’s hungry gaze followed the green arcs of energy. His breathing had noticeably quickened. “How much do you think you could take? Five percent, maybe? Ten? We could,” he breathed.
“We could find out, together. And no one would know. Just you and me, me giving you what you want.”
“Shut up! I hate you!” But Kacchan’s voice sounded shaky, the outburst sounding less convincing with every word. Odds are, he was trying to convince himself why he shouldn’t do this with Deku. But it was too late. They both knew Kacchan had made his decision when he decided to follow Deku out of the common room. That was the opening Deku had needed.
“As if that matters, Kacchan. It’s all been leading up to this moment, hasn’t it? Deep down, you know it, too.”
“I-I’ll kill you—” But Kacchan’s body slackened in his grip. He wasn’t fighting anymore, so Deku released his wrists. He could scarcely believe it. Amazingly, Kacchan didn’t blow him up. Instead, he placed his elbows on the floor and hid his face in his arms, concealing his expression.
“Yeah… You’ll kill me…” Deku muttered absently. He slowly latched a finger onto the waistband of Kacchan’s pants. The male under him trembled, but did nothing. Remained on all fours, practically offering his ass to Deku.
Deku paused to take in the image. He wanted to burn it in his mind forever. This was… Really happening…
“Is that a yes?” He asked, to be absolutely sure. Kacchan’s response came out muffled.
“Fucking. Die.” Being well-versed in Kacchan-speak, he knew that was a go signal as good as any… And it almost made him cry with relief. He exhaled sharply, grinning.
“Thank you, Kacchan. For letting me—”
Kacchan turned to look back at him, his eyes narrowed. “Shut up! Just shut up, no talking! I don’t want to hear your voice.”
“Fine.” As Kacchan continued to glare, he added: “I won’t talk! But if, if you want more, you’ll have to tell me. You should…”
Should what? Hearing Kacchan constantly wish death on him even during sex would get old quickly. He doubted Kacchan would say ‘harder’ or plead with him like he did with Kirishima. Which stung a little, but Deku had to make do. After all, Kacchan had just given him permission to fuck him… He couldn’t afford to screw this up. But… He also couldn’t give Kacchan the opportunity to imagine Kirishima at any point…
He had another brilliant idea.
“Say ‘Izuku’ then, whenever you want me to increase my power—”
“Are you crazy? Fuck no!”
With a loud sigh, Deku retracted his hand from Kacchan’s pants. “If you don’t, then, well I guess you’re not getting what you want after all.”
There was silence, initially. And then...
“Izuk…”
When he looked back at Kacchan, he was hiding his face in his arms again. But still pressing back against Deku’s crotch, which made him nearly come right there.
“Say that again?”
Kacchan’s hands were balled into fists. “You heard me! Stop pretending to be deaf you piece of shit, I said—guh…”
Whatever else he had been about to say melted into an incoherent gurgle, because at that moment, Deku had thought ‘fuck it’ and taken the plunge. He’d never used One for All’s superspeed to do something so innocuous as to shove down Kacchan’s bottoms, unzip his own and thrust his dick into Kacchan’s hole in one go, but tonight seemed to be a night for many firsts.
The moment Deku’s dick felt the warmth of Kacchan’s insides squeezing around it, his knees almost buckled and it took all his willpower not to come on the spot. He had fucked into Kacchan in one easy motion, straight to the hilt, and the reality of the situation had never been so clear: Kacchan was already wet, he realized, eyes wide.
It was all true. He was not sure if he could ever will himself to remove his dick from Kacchan’s ass ever again, now that the truth was literally trickling out of Kacchan with every touch.
He nudged his hips back and forth experimentally, withdrawing only a fraction before sinking into Kacchan again. Kacchan’s walls were clamped tightly around his dick, but the pressure was steady and not painful. He could move back and forth with ease. Closing his eyes, he hummed in appreciation and relished the contact with shuddering body beneath his. The tiniest of groans escaped Kacchan’s lips.
Deku stroked the cleft of Kacchan’s ass, pulled back again and saw his own dick slippery with a glistening substance. Interesting. He wanted to taste it, but -- later. Gaze lowering, he hypnotically watched his own dick move back in, producing a a squelching noise. More clear fluid squeezed out of Kacchan's ass, globs of it and gathered at his rim to wet Deku's dick, easing the way. Residue trickled down Kacchan’s thighs.
He hadn’t even come or anything, no way could he have produced this much pre-come either. And rest assured Kacchan hadn’t used prep…
Deku shut his eyes and breathed. Kacchan self-lubricating… How he wish he’d known much sooner… But, at least Kacchan was giving himself to Deku like this, now, and that's what mattered.
And Deku wanted to give in return. So he topped his power off at 2%, promptly pulled back and thrust in again. Immediately, there was a crackle. Kacchan lurched from the impact, letting out a choking noise. It's clear he hadn't expected it. His body went rigid from the pain, his back visibly shaking. Smoke was rising from his hands. Black scorch marks streaked across the tiles on which his palms had been placed. Deku froze. “Are you… Are you oka—”
“Izuku,” Kacchan said, softly at first. Then it came out louder, more confident. “Izuku!”
Deku exhaled, relieved. How foolish he was to have doubted Kacchan, who’d always been so strong and resilient… So he tightened his grip on Kacchan’s hips and started fucking him in earnest.
Whether this was how it was normally done, he had no idea. It felt right, but it was hard not to notice Kacchan visibly doubling up in pain every time Deku buried his dick in him completely. Despite that, Kacchan was moaning freely now, letting Deku drill his ass with abandon.
This was quirk sex, he recognized, and it was far more complicated than he thought, at least when it came to his quirk. He had no complaints – from his end, it felt absolutely perfect – but he had to be in complete control of his power to prevent from accidentally hurting Kacchan.
Distantly he wondered if he should’ve consulted All Might first.
Kacchan was murmuring his name again, which disrupted his train of thought “Izuku, Izuku, Izuku—” Deku screwed his eyes shut, carefully amplifying his power up to 3% before he slammed into Kacchan again, this time reveling at how it knocked the wind out of him.
God, he was in heaven. His name tumbled so naturally out of Kacchan’s lips. Someday Deku would love to hear him screaming it… Maybe Kacchan would let him see his face next time...
Copious amounts of slick were splattering on the floor, now pouring readily out of Kacchan. Deku felt heady from the sweet scent that rapidly filled the room. He couldn’t believe he was the one causing this, making Kacchan this aroused – pride blossomed in his chest.
But for a moment, his grip on Kacchan’s waist became unsteady. After some time, apparently Kacchan’s skin could get too slippery from the amount of substance he was producing. Deku took a mental note of this as his fingers scrabbled for purchase. After repositioning his hands to maintain a firmer grip, he could finally continue at a steady pace.
Their skin slapped together with increasing frequency. “Nggghh,” Kacchan moaned. His back was arching and even Deku could feel it, the building arousal in the both of them. He panted loudly as he went faster, and faster—
“Izuu…” Kacchan gasped. His throat failed him, his knees buckling, and Deku knew he was coming, as he’d suddenly clamped around Deku’s dick so tightly it made him see stars. He couldn’t suppress his gasp – it was so good – he’d never experienced anything this mind-blowing before. Unable to help himself, his dick spurted inside Kacchan, flooding his insides with warmth.
He was filling him up, Deku thought dizzily. His come was spreading around inside Kacchan, viscous around his softening cock. Deku knelt there, taking a few seconds to process what had just happened. They were breathing very hard, in tandem. He watched the rise and fall of Kacchan’s back. Kacchan was sniffling. Crap, did Deku make him cry? Or was that a good thing, that he cried…?
Deku was about to ask him if he enjoyed it, but as he moved to touch Kacchan’s back, hoping to turn him over and talk to him for a while, the other male moved so suddenly it immediately dislodged Deku’s dick from his ass. In a flash, Kacchan was already clambering to his feet and pulling up his pants. Without another word or glance at Deku, he stalked out of the bathroom with just enough ferocity to still be able to slam the door behind him.
But Deku had caught a glimpse of Kacchan’s face: his blotchy nose, his eyes glassy and rimmed with tears.
Deku sat there, unsure of what to do next. Kacchan’s scent still drifted around him. His fluids, all over the floor, with splotches left on Deku’s thighs. Deku almost laughed at the incredulity of the situation. He swiped a finger through the liquid Kacchan left behind, the remnants of which were trickling down his thigh. He slowly tasted it. Sweet.
As honey.
It was so unlike Kacchan, that that somehow made it even better.
The self-lubrication confirmed it, Deku thought with a satisfied grin. That Kacchan’s body was meant to take cock! Amazing! He sat down, letting himself bask in his own euphoria. He wasn’t quite sure if it was the smell or the post-orgasmic haze that was making him giddy. Or maybe it was the drunken satisfaction that was only achieved after having fucked Bakugo Katsuki in the ass…
All that had just transpired was almost too good to be true.
At the moment, it was easy to ignoring the pesky voice in his head muttering incessantly, the annoying, rational part of his mind warring with the pleasant fuzziness in his brain. It left his thoughts constantly alternating between “I’m the luckiest man alive ...(Besides Kirishima)…” and “Shit, shit, what have I started?”
Chapter 2: Kirishima Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore
Summary:
Kirishima tries his best. He really does.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Eijirou broke new ground with Kamino.
He’d been launched into orbit straight over a battlefield taken up by All Might and his arch-nemesis, and managed to save his closest friend. Since that event, Eijirou had spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about the warmth of Bakugo’s hands.
Bakugo was still “Bakugo” then. Despite what they’d been through. Which he had to admit was kind of weird, but he knew the best approach was to just roll with it. Pretend it never happened and all that. After all, that’s what Bakugo was doing. Unlike Eijirou, he probably didn’t stay awake every night fretting about holding hands.
But there was breaking new ground, and then there was tunneling to the very center of the earth. One week after Kamino, the latter happened.
There had been a knock at his door. He was mystified as to who it could possibly be, since practically all of 1-A knew he never locked it. He had long been accustomed to people ditching all semblance of politeness to barge in.
For the first time he could remember, Eijirou had to walk to the door and open it himself.
“Bakugo?” He said, gobsmacked by the sight before him. The blond was in his typical black sleeping attire, hands shoved into his pockets. He seemed to be studying the floor intently before looking up at Eijirou, whose mouth closed and opened a couple of times before he willed himself to speak. “Come in, come in! What’s up, buddy?”
Bakugo hadn’t answered, but relented in following him back into the room. Eijirou was debating on whether to offer him a protein bar as a gesture of hospitality (did Bakugo even eat protein bars?) when he heard a click, which made him turn around and stare at the other male quizzically. Bakugo’s expression was oddly blank. He was leaning against the door he’d just locked.
“I noticed the money I paid you back with’s already gone.”
“Ah?” Whatever Eijirou had been expecting him to bring up, this was not it. He laughed sheepishly in response, rubbing the back off his head. “Everyone loved the yakitori, though, so thanks for that!”
“You’re not the one who’s supposed to be thanking anybody.”
His tone was so ominous it melted the grin right off of Eijirou’s face. “Huh?”
Bakugo was studying the floor again. He had been more subdued since the incident, sure, but this was the first time Eijirou had ever seen him jittery. His tone was unnervingly quiet. “At Kamino… You know I would’ve died if not for you, right?”
“Er, forget about it. It’s nothing, really–“
Their eyes met. Bakugo’s were bright, his cheeks oddly flushed. He looked almost ill. His mouth barely moved. “I can’t.”
“You can’t what?” Eijirou asked, feeling more bewildered with each passing second. Should he take him to Recovery Girl… Was she awake at this hour…?
“Forget about it. I just,” Bakugo sucked in a breath sharply, his expression hardening. “Fucking can’t.”
“Bakugo… You’re kinda worrying me here--”
“I repaid you but let’s face it.” Suddenly, Bakugo was closing the distance between them. The temperature seemed to rise by several degrees, but Eijirou remained frozen on the spot. “You barely even used those night vision goggles, did you? So its cost doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. I still owe you.”
“You’re acting kinda funny,” Eijirou blurted at Bakugo, who was now barely just a foot away, staring, still, in that unsettling way. He couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what the other was going on about. As it was, Bakugo noticed his lack of comprehension as well, and seemed to have run out of patience.
“Would you just shut up for a bit and listen?” Bakugo snapped, then seemed to regain himself, but the fierce look in his eyes remained. “I want to… Show you… How much I appreciate what you did.” His expression didn’t show any ‘appreciation’ at all, though. It looked blank, haunted almost. “I want to give you something. Will you let me?”
“Yeah, of course, but—” Eijirou stuttered out, but Bakugo strode forward and shut him up with a fingertip pressed to the redhead’s lips. All Eijirou could register was the familiar warmth of Bakugo’s hands, which he’d saved, which had touched his lips for the briefest moments and were now hot on his chest, pushing him backward toward the bed.
“Bakugo, what are you—” The back of his knees came in contact with the mattress, sending him careening. Head spinning, Eijirou let himself fall back against the edge. There was a flash of red – Bakugo’s eyes were closer than they’d ever been and then…
He made a muffled noise as Bakugo kissed him. Lips firm and warm – like his hands, and probably the rest of him as well, Eijirou thought dizzily. Then Bakugo went from 0 to 100, shucking off his pants and going from kissing to straddling him, bare-arsed. Eijirou’s jaw dropped before Bakugo closed it for him with another kiss. Bakugo’s legs were pale and also oddly shiny, and Eijirou grabbed at them, squeezing the meat of his thighs. Bakugo distracted him by pressing down hard on his lap, and, Eijirou let out a strangled groan. It was impossible to stay soft when a hot blond was massaging your crotch with his ass.
Bakugo grasped his shoulder to steady himself, sweat gathering at his pinched brows. Face next to his, Eijiirou could hear his sharp breaths, could feel the tug at his shorts while his mind fought to catch up at a sluggish pace. “You—You really don’t have to— holy sh—!”
He bucked his hips in surprise as Bakugo sank down on him in one singular motion, enveloping his dick in the tightest space known to man, which promptly cut off all remaining bloodflow to his brain.
A half-hour, or maybe an hour? Two? Later, Eijirou lay on his bed, still cobbling together what was left of his vocabulary. This was probably what an ‘afterglow’ was, and he couldn’t quite process anything apart from images – nakedness, lewd noises, Bakugo – so he was left with one option, which was to goofily smile at the ceiling.
There was a pleasant buzzing where his brain used to be, which was also felt in his now-spent dick. All of those were new sensations that would take getting used to, most likely the aftereffects of… of… Sex. He’d just had sex. With Bakugo, of all people! Eijirou was hit with a wave of fondness as Bakugo’s face swam into his mind again, the way his eyes had rolled back in his head, his lips parted in pleasure…
It seemed to last forever when they were actually doing it, but now that the deed was done he was mourning at how he’d finished so soon. Bakugo had stood up afterward and explained hurriedly, that Eijirou could never tell anyone about this, and when he asked what ‘this’ meant exactly, Bakugo made a frustrated noise and gestured at himself. All Eijirou could do was nod dumbly at that point, glancing downward at where Bakugo had signalled. His lower half, to be precise, where the streaks of clear fluid were still running down his inner thighs, intertwined with much more viscous stripes of white. Eijirou felt oddly proud to have added those himself.
He was mesmerized by the sight, unable to look away. And maybe he was even drooling a bit, because wow, he had just fucked Bakugo’s magical ass, which apparently had its own magical lube, and the evidence was right there in front of him. Bakugo, ever so alert, noticed his inattention and grabbed him by the shirt, hauling him close and whispered sweet nothings (okay, more like murder threats) in his ear.
Up close, Eijirou noticed that Bakugo looked like he’d been crying, his nose and cheeks red. He kissed Bakugo’s lips, enjoying the way his eyes fluttered in surprise. And then he grinned, displaying his shark teeth, and said “I promise I won’t tell... As long as we get to do that again, okay?” At that, Bakugo nodded (sniffling?), and left the room.
Eijirou pillowed his head in his arms and stared up at the ceiling. His face was starting to hurt from smiling so much.
That is, until he heard another series of thumps, only this time they were muffled. He looked at the door in confusion – was Bakugo coming back already, was there gonna be a round two – he was already getting excited just thinking about it but then someone spoke on the other side of the wall.
“Kirishima,” came Shouji’s voice. “Forgive me if I’m interrupting anything, but next time, could you and Bakugo refrain from doing that so loudly?”
His eyes widened comically as he remembered that the room next to his was inhabited by someone fully capable of multiplying their sensory organs by six.
“HOLY SHIT, SHOUJI!”
--
He and Bakugo were a thing.
He and Bakugo were a thing.
The statement niggled at his mind non-stop, even while in class, or while playing games with his unsuspecting friends, or while being clumsy with his chopsticks every time he ate with Bakugo next to him.
They weren’t a… Public thing. But a private thing. And it was… Kind of awesome, leading this double-life behind everyone’s backs (everyone except Shouji, but he wasn’t the type to blab).
There was a certain thrill to disappearing into his room under the guise of doing homework, only to have Bakugo Katsuki, the most bad-ass person at school, riding his dick the moment they closed the door.
Eijirou still hadn’t gotten used to the floaty sensation in his chest, so persistent that he almost wanted to put on a space suit and change his hero name to Uravity.
Bakugo still tutored him in the afternoons. But nights were now reserved for fucking. Who’d have thought he of all people would be involved in a clandestine romance?
Literally only he, in the whole world, could see this side of Bakugo. Who always closed his eyes, looking relaxed whenever he sank down on Eijirou’s cock like it was a cure-all. Whose hands crackled and left his shoulders smoking whenever they got a little too enthusiastic – though Eijirou had surmised that Bakugo might be doing it on purpose, to show said enthusiasm.
His soft side was so far off from his normal grouchy demeanor in class that Eijirou sometimes had trouble reconciling the two. But he was not about to discount the benefits of both. As much as he loved Bakugo’s raw strength and determination, he also loved that Bakugo was grabby, that he liked kissing while fucking. He didn’t like swallowing, though, which was… Fair.
Learning the in’s and out’s of Bakugo’s body became homework of the… Erotic variety. Not that Bakugo helping him with actual homework wasn’t erotic. In fact, it was a lot more challenging now because the exasperated sound Bakugo made whenever he got something wrong was astonishingly close to the one whenever he urged Eijirou to go faster, dammit.
But the list of ridiculously sexy side effects of his quirk grew longer with every discovery. Bakugo, for starters, had a literal afterglow, glistening like a playhero in a magazine spread. After sex, he often demanded to shower immediately – a shame, because Eijirou liked running his hands (or tongue) up and down Bakugo’s slippery, post-coital skin.
Eijirou liked pressing into random spots, especially his chest, because it served the dual purpose of getting him to be louder. The skin was creamy and supple, with a bedrock of hard muscle beneath. Sometimes, he didn’t even have to touch; Bakugo would turn red if he stared at him for too long. He liked burying his head into Eijirou’s neck to hide said redness.
At which case, Eijirou would get a whiff of his intoxicatingly sweet scent. It was so reminiscent of candy that once, there’d been an embarrassing Pavlovian response in his trousers when Aoyama handed him a toffee. Only Bakugo, he figured, could make a confectionery scent manly as hell.
And, of course… The self-lube: he leaked copious amounts whenever they fucked. Eijirou was always struck dumb during the times Bakugo stood up and crystalline fluid streamed down his thighs, and – good fucking Lord – the intensity magnified tenfold if Eijirou’s come trickled down along with it, twin streams of clear and white.
Eijirou surmised that perhaps, Bakugo lubricated everywhere, even his eyes, which would probably explain the tearstains during every fucking. The second time it had happened, he’d abruptly stopped and grabbed Bakugo’s face to ask if he’d hurt him. He’d been smacked upside the head in retaliation. “It’s fine, you idiot. It’s just too fucking good,” and he proved his point by grinding back against him and making Eijirou see stars.
So he was addicted to whatever crazy shit was going on with Bakugo’s body.
So he couldn’t tell anyone, which was fine.
So he didn’t really mind… For a while.
--
Separated by the long weekend, they had taken to video-chatting from their respective homes. Like regular boyfriends! Only they didn’t use the word boyfriend, but from the way things had snowballed, Eijirou figured this thing – whatever they had – was difficult to grasp hold of, shifting over and over so often that it was impossible to define. He would just roll with it (since that strategy had worked out spectacularly in his favor so far). Based on how his classmates were acting, it was sort of a relief that he and Bakugo got to lay low amidst all the craziness around them.
“Yo, did your mom like the exercise routines I forwarded you? Took me a while to find the kinds she’d specified.”
“Yeah,” said the Bakugo onscreen, sitting on his bed in a tanktop and shorts. “She said thanks.”
“Did she, really?” Eijirou asked, skeptical.
“She slapped me upside the head and called me a fuckface. That’s as close to a ‘thank you’ as I’ll ever get.”
“Great,” Eijirou said. There was a short pause, as each waited for the other to say something. Bakugo looked surlier than usual, shifting constantly and yet refusing to abandon his cross-legged position.
“By the way, I, uh, have something to confess to you.”
“Yeah?" Bakugo said. "What is it?”
“It was me who dared Midoriya to kiss you. I didn’t think he’d actually do it!” He quickly added, seeing the stunned look on Bakugo’s face. “I’m sorry,” he said, bowing his head.
“You should be, it was fucking disgusting,” said Bakugo, features twisting into a grimace at the sheer memory of it.
“I hope you didn’t beat him too bad afterward.”
There was a long pause.
“Oh god! You did, didn’t you?” There was a pinging sound and Bakugo checked his phone.
“Katsuki?” Bakugo was frowning intently at his phone. “Hey, you still there?”
“Yeah.”
“What did you do to Midoriya?” Bakugo tossed his phone off-screen. There was a soft thump.
“Can we stop talking about that nerd, already? Just thinking ‘bout him’s already ruining my weekend.”
“Well,” he said, struggling at a topic change. “Sero talked to me a few days ago. Asked me if I liked Mina. Could you believe it? Me and her? I think he’s thinking of asking her out.”
“Ugh,” Bakugo said with a sneer. “Are you serious? Don’t these extras have anything better to do than talk about how much they want to pork each other? Even you’re starting to do it too, for fuck’s sake!”
“Well, I don’t know what else to say!” Eijirou sputtered. “Do you want to have uh, phone sex or something? We could—“ Bakugo shot him a bemused look before promptly logging off.
With a snort, Eijirou shut the lid of his laptop. Love was complicated.
--
On the first day back at school, Midoriya was looking edgy. Eijirou had an inkling as to why. He waited until they were walking back to Heights Alliance after class, and deliberately fell in step with him while he mumbled to himself.
“Hey, Midoriya,” he said, tapping his shoulder.
“Wah! Oh, Kirishima!” Notes scattered from Midoriya’s grip. They bent down to collect the papers together.
“Sorry I surprised you, I just wanted to tell you something,” Eijirou said, ignoring the sudden tensing of Midoriya’s shoulders.
“…Yeah?”
“I’m sorry if I went too far with that dare. I didn’t think you’d actually do it, and I’m frankly impressed that you did – was manly as hell! But if Bakugo got on your case about it, then I apologize.”
“Oh, that.” There was a pause before Midoriya’s grin met his. He let out a small laugh, straightening his papers into a pile on his knee before they stood up. “He didn’t do anything that I minded, don’t worry about it.”
A wave of relief swept over him. He knew the relationship between Bakugo and Midoriya could be tenuous at best, but it was still a far cry from when they’d first started at UA. He wondered if they’d ever be as casually friendly each other as Eijirou was to, well, pretty much everyone. Maybe not, but it was a funny thought.
With nothing else to say he was about to end their conversation, but Midoriya suddenly spoke, his fists clenched around his notes, inadvertently crumpling them.
“Kirishima, I just wanted to say that… About Kacchan… I… Uh… Actually… I-know-about-you-and-him!”
All thoughts of Bakugo and Midoriya getting along skidded to a halt.
“You… You do?”
“Yeah.”
“How did you find out?”
“I overheard you one time. Sorry.”
“Shit,” he said, sliding fingers through his rock-hard hair. “And you’re… You’re okay with this?”
“Huh?”
“Me and Bakugo. He’s your childhood friend and everything. You don’t mind that I’m…”
“Of course not! I’m very—” Midoriya swallowed. “I’m very happy for you guys! I think you’re good for him. I won’t tell anyone.”
Not that he ever needed Midoriya’s approval, but in a strange way, it warmed his heart knowing he had Eijirou’s back. Upon hearing his admission to having known all along, Eijirou was surprised to find that it didn’t really bother him as much as he thought it would. Suddenly this thing with Bakugo felt all the more real; maybe they weren’t ready to shout it from the rooptops just yet, but Midoriya was trustworthy, at least. And really smart, so if he wasn’t chewing Eijirou’s head off, or overreacting, or telling him he’d made a bad decision, then that was a good sign.
“Oh. Wow, that actually means a lot, coming from you.”
Midoriya’s eyes were bright. “Always happy for my friends.”
“Thanks for keeping it a secret.”
“You can always talk to me if you need anything. I mean, Todoroki and I…” He gave a nervous laugh. “We have the occasional bump in the road. So it wouldn’t hurt to…”
“…Compare notes?” Eijirou said with a sly smile.
“Sure.”
“With you and Todoroki?” Lowering his voice, Eijirou looked around to make sure they weren’t being eavesdropped on. “You two have… Done it, then?”
Midoriya jerked back, but the answer was clear on his face. “Oh, yeah! Loads of times. Sex with Todoroki is awesome.”
“Woah.”
“What?”
“You just got this dreamy look on your face, so it must be.” Midoriya looked sheepish.
“I-It is.”
--
The sound of an ambulance woke up Eijirou.
It put him on immediate alert, so he threw on his uniform and raced downstairs, tripping over a sagging pantleg as he tried to run and close his belt buckle at the same time. He hadn’t known what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t Kaminari – tangled up in capture tape – sobbing as he was reprimanded by a very irate Aizawa. For some reason, Todoroki was there, too, his mouth a thin line as he watched the scene unfold.
“…Now you will report to class in an hour. All of 1-A better be on time, and we will be having a very special homeroom session thanks to you and your antics!” Aizawa yelled, livid. He retracted his tape, nodding at Eijirou as he left.
“What happened?” he asked Todoroki.
Todoroki brushed hair out of his face. He talked louder, only partially successful at drowning out Kaminari’s sobs.
“Kaminari and Jirou were,” he paused. “Fornicating.” And without a hint of embarrassment, he pressed on. “Kaminari accidentally electrocuted her. But she should be fine. She was conscious when the ambulance came, they’re probably just making sure.”
“A-are you serious? Kaminari?!” Eijirou looked at the friend in question, sprawled on the ground. His bawling increased in volume.
Eijirou gulped, suddenly recalling scratched up waists and bleeding lips.
Aizawa made good on his promise. When everyone arrived, he was standing behind the teacher’s desk, a basket placed on it, his sleeping bag nowhere in sight.
“It has come to my attention that despite UA’s efforts to mold you into responsible heroes whose chosen vocations revolve around looking after other people’s safety, apparently that sense of responsibility and safety has failed to extend to your own beds,” he said bluntly.
Everyone had been cowed into silence. They were all vaguely aware of the situation concerning Kaminari and Jirou at this point. Kaminari was shaking in his seat; Jirou’s was empty, but Momo had reported that they’d been texting, and that she would be back in class after lunch.
“I do not have to tell you how risky it is to be having sex at this age. You have your entire careers ahead of you. One mistake could change your future, and I’m not just talking about injuries and diseases resulting from the act itself—” His withering gaze landed on Kaminari. “—but its potential repercussions. As heroes, it’s not just unwanted pregnancies you should worry about. Reputation is important, and whether you care about it or not, any scandal could ruin your career before it even begins.”
Eijirou was doing his best to school his face into (what he thought was) a neutral expression. But his heartbeat pounded in his ears, and he almost suspected that everyone could hear it. He looked out of the corner of his eye at Bakugo, who was doing a stellar job acting like he didn’t give a shit – because, to be fair, he probably didn’t. Realization dawned on Eijirou that Aizawa’s lecture perfectly encapsulated why Bakugo was so reluctant to divulge anything about their… Thing. He felt a wave of fondness for the other male.
Always thinking of the future, wasn’t he?
“However,” Aizawa sighed, massaging his temples. “We’d be stupid to expect a bunch of teenagers living together to not try anything. So we’ll be distributing condoms made by the support department. They’re resistant to most elements, such as fire, water—”
“Hear that, Todoroki?” Sero said loudly, and the class tittered, tension defused by his comment.
“What about acid?” Mina shot out, and laughter erupted again, only to be silenced by another of Aizawa’s glares.
“I said most,” he said irritably. “Not all. Read the damn labels. These are more durable than regular condoms, but using one doesn’t suddenly make sex risk-free.” He offered the basket to Shouji, who looked reluctant to even touch it. “Just take a couple. Even if you don’t think you’ll need them. Best to be safe rather than sorry.”
Everyone started doing so, some with more enthusiasm than others. The basket was passed around; when it reached Eijirou, he reddened as he took three foil packets and immediately stuffed them into his pocket. He would examine them later. Maybe they were somehow hardening-proof? Which might be useful…
He was momentarily distracted from his thoughts as Mineta overturned the entire basket-ful onto his desk and refused to give the rest back until Tsuyu gave him a (literal) tongue-lashing.
But Bakugo had refused to even look at the basket. He resolutely ignored Midoriya offering it to him, who ended up walking over to hand it to Hagakure himself. His insistence on not taking any condoms gave Eijirou pause: was this part of the act? Or did he not want to use them? Or perhaps, it was pointless, since they’d been doing it raw and it’s not like they ever had – or ever will have – any other partners.
Eijirou’s chest grew warm. Bakugo was such a romantic, even without even meaning to be.
“Oh! Aizawa!” exclaimed Mineta. “But what about quirk sex? When do we learn how to use our quirks during sex?”
“There is no such class in UA, Mineta, and the next time you consider it impertinent to suggest such a thing, I will be gladly packing your bags for you and escorting you off this campus myself.”
Seeing their scared faces, he groaned. “This is not, of course, meant to discourage you from seeking help.” With a tinge more empathy in his tone, he continued. “We know we won’t be able to stop you, but some advice: always think of quirk compatibilities before you decide to become intimate. Not doing so can have potentially lethal oversights. If you insist on indulging yourself, then I recommend consulting Recovery Girl beforehand, together with your partner. She will be able to assess your compatibility properly and redirect you to other sources or provide alternatives if the need arises.”
By ‘need arises’, Eijirou figured it meant ‘if it was simply too dangerous to fuck’. He wondered, briefly, if there was any quirk combination in their class that would render sex impossible, but came up blank.
“Don’t worry, as all discussion with her will remain confidential," Aizawa finished with a grim look. “Do not disappoint me. I personally would not want any scandals to mar the already tremulous reputation of 1-A.”
There was a collective shudder, followed by a sigh of relief at the end of an uncomfortable lecture. But to their surprise, Aizawa didn’t conclude the session.
“And now,” he drolled on. “On a completely unrelated note, here are 1-B students Monoma Neito and Pony Tsunotori with an announcement.”
Monoma strutted into the classroom with the air of someone clearly expecting applause. Naturally, he got none. As if he’d just remembered that he’d entered a classroom full of people he’d openly antagonized since the beginning of the year, he coughed and went straight into business.
“Hello, Class 1-A!” He received a few weak greetings in return, and powered through. “I’m happy to announce that Principal Nezu has approved our proposal to hold a prom! An American-style prom!” He paused for a reaction – there were a few giggles – and seemed contented. “There’ll be food, dancing, music, and we’ll be electing prom royalty. Anyone is free to apply to the prom committee, which will be headed by myself, of course, as well as Pony, our resident American who inspired this very idea.” Pony gave a frantic wave. “You are free to bring dates, even from outside the school. Any questions?”
Bakugo was the first to speak. “Yeah, here’s a question: who gives a shit?”
Monoma narrowed his eyes. Around him, Eijirou could feel his classmates holding their breaths. “Well, given the number of recent hero-centric events causing nationwide discord lately, more than ever we feel it is important to sow friendships, build camaraderie and celebrate happy moments.”
“But we just had a cultural festival,” Kaminari pointed out.
The grin vanished from Monoma’s face immediately. “This isn’t a festival, this is prom!” He said crossly, now on the verge of mania, and unfortunately Kendou was not around to reign him in. “If we manage to pull this off, prom could become a yearly tradition! It’ll be the legacy we leave behind after we’ve long graduated from UA.” Noticing the skeptical looks from his audience, he smirked. “Ah, what’s this I sense? Your class is embarrassed that you didn’t come up with the idea first?”
“Says the class that only won one out five fights at joint training,” Bakugo responded smugly. 1-A burst into applause and cheers, while Monoma sputtered.
Aizawa started rubbing his temples again.
--
The condoms might as well have burned a hole in his pocket – that’s how aware Eijirou was of their presence, and throughout the entire day he couldn’t stop jiggling his leg. When the bell rung, he couldn’t take it anymore. He told everyone not to wait up, before heading for the closest bathroom stall.
He sat on a toilet lid and examined the metallic blue square. The UA logo was obnoxiously plastered all over it. There was a tiny list of things it was resistant to, which included “electricity” (good for Kaminari, he supposed), “rough textures”, “excessive force” and “magma”. Squinting, he read through the list again. Didn’t he fall under “excessive force”?
With shaky hands he ripped the foil, and pulled out a piece of latex. It looked and felt flimsy, like a deflated balloon, definitely not like something that could withstand magma, but he figured UA engineering was just that good. Appearances could be deceptive.
Eijirou almost put it on. But he realized that, oh yeah, he had to be hard first, didn’t he? Which wasn’t difficult to achieve. He stroked himself, thinking of Bakugo’s hands sending bursts of heat into his back when they’d come at the exact same time, and that’s all it took, really. He gingerly slipped the condom on.
He took a breath and switched on his hardening – limiting it to only his dick – and in a fraction of a second, his jagged length ripped clean through the material. With horror, he gazed down at the torn remnants of condom hanging off of his dick.
Pinching his fingers around the shreds, he lifted it to his face and peered at it. It swung ominously, dangling like a tangle of ribbons.
He put his face in his hands, thinking of one word, over and over.
Fuck.
The trudge back to the dorms was a long, gloomy one. But when he got through the front door, he was greeted with a flurry of noise.
“Kirishima! Come sit with us!” Uraraka was waving. Eijirou looked at her group, which consisted of Tokoyami, Tsuyu, Mineta, Aoyama and Kouda. Across the lobby he could see Sero and Kaminari occupying their own set of couches. But Uraraka was already patting the space beside her, so he went.
“There we go! More people in the singles group now.”
Eijirou looked around warily. “Singles group?”
“Yeah, because all they want to talk about is dating. Well, I dunno why Bakugo’s with them but I think they forced him.” Eijirou looked around and, sure enough, he spotted Bakugo’s bushy hair on the other couch. Dammit.
“Don’t go over there now!” Uraraka was pleading, having seen his expression. “You’re supposed to be one of us! Those of us whose likelihood of getting prom dates is slim. We’re all thinking of joining the prom committee. What do you say?”
Before Eijirou could stammer out an answer, Tokoyami interrupted. “I have no interest in prom so I will certainly not be joining.” His arms were crossed defiantly. He was much snappier as of late, though like Eijirou, he’d most likely been pressured to sit there regardless of his prom preferences and had quickly realized the vexation of it. As the teasing started up, Eijirou turned to Aoyama, who was quietly sipping his tea, one leg over the other.
“So, you’re already sure you won’t be bringing a date?” He asked, because prom had just been announced a few hours ago, so it was odd to him how eager this group was to throw themselves a pity party.
Aoyama took a long sip before answering. “I will be alone, but only because it was too short notice to ask my partner to visit me.” Eijirou did a double-take.
“You’re in a relationship?”
“Bien sûr,” Aoyama said, the corners of his mouth quirked in a mysterious smile. “She is beautiful. She is French. She has been my girlfriend for a while now. I just never told you.” The rest had stopped ribbing Tokoyami now, too, and were staring at Aoyama with utter confusion.
“French?”
“Girl?”
Enjoying the outrage, Aoyama peered at them all. “Oui. She is absolutely stunning. We have been dating for six months, long distance. She lives in Pa-ree.” The amazed looks turned doubtful, which made him laugh. “Oh, you think I am lying?”
“Can you show us a picture of her?” Mineta asked.
“She is camera-shy, so non. But I assure you, she is magnifique.”
“How convenient,” Uraraka said with narrowed eyes.
Dreading that he was next to be interrogated, Eijirou hastily bowed out. “Hey guys, I’m gonna go talk to Sero for a bit.”
“Don’t go over there, that’s the ‘taken’ corner. And you’re not taken!”
“Do you have anyone you want to ask to prom yet, Kirishima?” said Tsuyu, who was looking awfully like she was about to ask him. This further reinforced his need to get out of there before things got awkward.
“I may not be into the whole dating thing, but they’re my buddies, so.”
“Traitor!” Uraraka yelled, feigning outrage.
He strode over to the other side of the room, Thinking he would feel more at home with these guys, he quickly turned out to be wrong.
“Mind-blowing. Holy. Fucking. Shit,” Sero was babbling, Kaminari watching him with awe. Bakugo was scrolling through something on his phone. “Kirishima! You don’t know what you’re missing. Mind you, Bakugo may be a lost cause—” he blocked Bakugo’s explosion with his tape. “—But you. You’re tough, you’re a man, you could have any girl you wanted.”
Eijirou sighed, sitting down. “I’m guessing you and Mina worked out, then?” The two groups, despite sitting on opposite sides of the room, seemed to be discussing the exact same topics. And it was really starting to get boring.
“Worked out? We…” Sero’s voice dropped to a whisper. “We went three rounds. And everything Yaomomo said turned out to be true. It was something else.”
Kaminari was pouting. Compared to earlier, his disposition had greatly improved. But most likely, talking about quirk sex was going to be a sore spot for him. “Lucky man,” he muttered. “And whoever nails Yaomomo… And Tsuyu… Or even…” Sero and Kaminari’s gazes slid toward Bakugo, at the same time, and they broke out into snickers.
Sensing they were laughing at him, Bakugo’s eyes shot up. “Heard about the shit you pulled, Sparky,” he said, tone vicious. “What’s next? Gonna throw Earlobes a toaster in the bathtub?” As Sero roared with laughter, Kaminari gasped.
“Way below the belt,” he whimpered.
“Did you hear, though,” Sero said, wiping tears from his eyes. “Rumor is that Ojiro may be having double the quirk sex, if you know what I mean.”
Kaminari’s eyes went round. “What? He’s got two dicks? Oh, god. His tail doesn’t count for a second dick, does it?”
“No, moron, I’m saying,” and Sero lowered his voice. “Someone spotted him chatting up a girl from 1-B. The creepy one who does weird shit with her hands. We might just have our very first love triangle!”
“I’m outta here,” Bakugo said, getting to his feet. Eijirou, conflicted, watched him go. He wanted so badly to follow, and it seemed unfair that he had to sit here and talk about sex (while pretending he knew nothing) when he could be upstairs actually having it. But to accompany Bakugo now would be far too telling.
“Dude, are you okay?” Kaminari asked, nudging him. “A lot of people are gonna use prom invites as a chance to hook up, you know. Now’s your opportunity.”
“Nah.” Eijirou shook his head, grinning. He had a sudden bizarre image of himself dancing with Bakugo at prom which, by all accounts, was too ridiculous to contemplate any further. “I’m just not into that, I guess.”
“Not into it? How can you not be into it? Girls, man! They’re amazing! Jirou, she does this thing with her earjacks where—”
“Lalalalalala!” He yelled, covering his ears.
“Seriously?” Sero said, pulling at his hands. “It changes your life. I can’t believe I didn’t start sooner, you know? Nearly half the class is already shacked up, you don’t want to end up the only single guy besides Bakugo!”
“Live a little,” Kaminari cajoled, patting his shoulder and everything.
“Right,” he said, with a laugh that was far too loud. Inwardly, he was well aware, more than ever, of three truths: one, that he apparently now had a reputation as a prude. Two, that there were two condoms still unopened in his pocket, but they were absolutely useless. And three, Bakugo was upstairs. “Everyone’s having quirk sex, except me, I guess. Ha, ha.”
It almost hurt to say that out loud. Almost.
--
There were times wherein Bakugo would give him a look, like he was on the verge of telling him something, but would suddenly frown and look away, thinking better of it.
Eijirou rolled with it. After all, Bakugo deserved his space. And what he lacked in communication skills, he more than made up for by being more affectionate in private.
Because that affection is what left Eijirou currently breathless on the bed, still reeling from one of Bakugo’s god-tier blowjobs. When he’d offered to return the favor, though, Bakugo preferred to cuddle instead. (He didn’t say that outright, of course; in fact, he just said “let’s go fucking sleep”, but Eijirou got the message).
His arm was curled around Bakugo’s waist. Neither of them were particularly sleepy, though getting to lie down pressed up against each other like this had a calming effect on both of them. One that Eijirou decided to use to his advantage.
“Katsuki?”
“Mmm?”
“Wanna go to prom with me?” Bakugo groaned and tried to bury his head into the pillow, mumbling something that sounded awfully like ‘Fucking stupid…’ His efforts were thwarted by Eijirou’s hand on his shoulder. He raised himself on one elbow, peering down at the exasperated blond.
“As in, you know… Secretly. As a not-date.”
“If it’s a not-date then why are you even botherin’ to ask?” Bakugo shifted, more alert now, and drew in a sharp breath as Eijirou’s hand slid from his shoulder to trace the dark bruise on his hip. He’d already shucked down his own underwear and was tugging on Bakugo’s. As expected, Eijirou’s fingers were moistened as they slid into Bakugo’s hole.
“Well, it’s kinda romantic, don’t you think?”
“You’re such a sap...”
“So is that a yes?” He was rubbing his dick on Bakugo’s leaking entrance. Bakugo made an unintelligible noise. “I wanna hear you say it.” Eijirou taunted, erection sliding up and down the cleft of his ass. “If you want my dick in here, you’re gonna have to say it…”
“Yes!” Katsuki said, brimming with frustration. “Yes I’ll go to…” He drew a sharp breath. “Fuckin’ prom with you, so fuck me already.”
Eijirou rammed his dick in Bakugo, timing it so that at the same time he bit down on his shoulder and clamped a hand over his mouth.
“Mmm-!” He set off at a punishing pace, enjoying how Bakugo’s eyes widened, their corners leaking tears.
“Thank you, Katsuki,” he murmured into his neck as the blond whimpered, body trembling around his cock. He didn’t consider himself a possessive man but God, it felt so good to have Bakugo be his.
--
As it turns out, having Midoriya as a confidante was a blessing in disguise. He was nice, and gave really helpful advice once you got past his muttering. The more they talked, the more it felt like a great weight was gradually being lifted from his shoulders, as he finally had someone to talk to about the thing. And coincidentally, Midoriya was one of the few persons who really got Bakugo, even if Bakugo himself would vehemently deny it.
Eijirou made sure, of course, to approach him for Bakugo-talks only when out of earshot of other classmates. He waited, until he and Midoriya happened to have cleaning duty together, before pulling out a magazine.
“Midoriya! How good would Bakugo look in white, seriously?” He leafed through the pages, found one where the pale blond model was decked in a white suit, posing on cobblestone, and tapped it with his finger, indicating. “For prom, I mean.”
“You’re going to prom together?” Midoriya’s were brows furrowed. He hadn’t bothered to look at the picture.
“Not in the, uh, official sense,” Eijirou said bashfully. “I guess to everyone else we’ll just look like buddies without dates, which is fine. But you know how he gets with well-fitted clothes, so…”
Midoriya’s gaze traveled to the image. He studied it, chewing at his lip. Like he were trying to solve a math problem. Eijirou nearly laughed; Midoriya really did overthink everything.
“His inner shirt should be red. It’ll bring out his eyes.”
“Red, genius! Midoriya, I could kiss you.”
“Please don’t,” he said, and they both laughed.
“You and Todoroki going together then?”
“Yeah, we probably are.” He suddenly turned somber. “Actually, Todoroki and I had a bit of a falling out fairly recently. So we haven’t… Officially asked each other or anything.”
“Fallout over what?”
“Just a mix-up over, uh,” he gestured vaguely. “Whether we’d meet up over the long weekend. Yeah. We texted and we’re talking again, though.”
“That’s good to hear. Todoroki being a good boyfriend then?”
“The absolute best,” said Midoriya, matching Eijirou’s grin with his own.
--
It was The Big Day.
While en route to his room after borrowing a tie from Sero, Eijirou’s attention was caught by a familiar mop of green hair. “Hey, nice suit!” What was he doing on their floor?
Midoriya, who appeared to be deep in thought, brightened when he saw him. He was in a standard black suit, but its lapels shimmered. Very similar to Eijirou’s, only his tie was green rather than maroon. “Oh, Kirishima! You too!”
“I was just gonna check on my not-date,” Eijirou said with a knowing wink. He got a wan smile from Midoriya in return.
“Oh? Well, see you at prom!”
“See you!”
When Bakugo answered the door, he looked anxious. “Back again? I said go alrea—” he stopped abruptly upon seeing Eijirou.
“Yo!” He greeted, walking in. “Damn.” He gave a low whistle. “Knew it’d look good on you.” Bakugo merely peered back at him from under heavy-lidded eyes, giving a nod of approval at his get-up.
“Hey, you okay? You look kind of pale…”
“I’m fine,” Bakugo insisted, but his hand shook as he shut the door. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re supposed to show up there first.”
“Just wanted to check on my not-date, is that so bad? Hey, uh. Why are you sweating so much?” It was an understatement, for Bakugo’s whole body carried a sheen of perspiration. The tangy scent in the air made him wrinkle his nose. “You normally only look like this after I’ve dicked you.” He received a fierce glare in return, to which he simply laughed. “Speaking of…” His hand trailed down to Bakugo’s ass but it was snatched in a slippery grip.
“No! Not now.”
Eijirou had been secretly hoping they could do a quick round. But given Bakugo’s strange condition, that was looking more and more unlikely. “You’re not feeling well, are you? Man, Katsuki, didn’t I tell you to lay off the gym today?”
Blushing fiercely, Katsuki swatted his hands away. “Shut up! It’s because I… We can do it later tonight, right?”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, we gotta…” For a moment his eyes seemed to lose focus, and he swayed on the spot until he caught himself by grabbing the back of a chair. “…Gotta fuck in the bushes or something. Isn’t that what they do at these stupid proms?”
“Katsuki…?” Eijirou frowned. Bakugo normally didn’t plan their escapades; this was unlike him. The bedsheets were uncharacteristically messy, as well. Had Bakugo just woken up from a nap? He was about to ask if the other would prefer to stay in for the night instead, but the blond was already facing the mirror, adjusting his white suit. The collar of the red button-down underneath it was crimped.
“I’ll see you there, alright? Just gotta straighten this shit.”
“How’d it even get so rumpled? Pretty sure they drycleaned this before—” He reached for Bakugo again to smooth down his lapel, but Bakugo jerked back, deliberately avoiding his touch. Noticing Eijirou’s hurt look, he sighed and gave a half-shrug. “I got it.” He made a show of heating his palms and running them down his suit to wipe out the wrinkles.
“Well, I’ll see you there. You owe me a not-dance, okay, not-date?” He kissed Bakugo, relishing the honey-flavor of his mouth. Though the taste of Bakugo’s lips was slightly different from normal – weaker, actually, despite his profuse leaking. But Eijirou felt it would be too creepy to point that out. So he left it at that.
He departed, making his way to the Gamma Gym. Fucking in the bushes, huh? Bakugo was becoming more open about their relationship, then. He kind of liked it.
--
Way, way before prom, and well before the collective sex drive of 1-A roared to life, Eijirou and Bakugo had already reached a whole different level on their own.
For Bakugo became Katsuki that day and they discovered several things at once.
They had just clobbered the villain at I Island. They had just witnessed Midoriya and All Might strike the final blow, together, in such an epic manner that even Bakugo had been left grinning. Right after returning to their bedroom, tensions were still running high. Adrenaline still raced through their veins.
Bakugo proceeded to tackle him the moment they locked the door.
“You saved me again,” he said furiously, pinning Eijirou down on brightly colored sheets. His expression was one of complete anger, but Eijirou knew better and he smirked, recalling the exact moment he’d pushed him out of the way of the villain’s strike.
“Hell yeah, I did.” He was removing Bakugo’s vest, still smoking from the battle. “I believe you owe me one?”
“Fuck off, I saved your ass too.” Eijirou laughed as he struggled to shrug off his torn suit.
“We were both amazing, weren’t we, Bakugo?” He whispered into the other’s mouth, and their tongues entangled again.
“Naturally,” murmured Bakugo. His eyes glittered, still basking in their shared victory. Eijirou flipped their positions, grinning down at the smirking blond. They had been blessed with a huge, floral bed. Why not put it to good use?
So they did.
It was amazing. That is, until—
“K-Kat—,” Eijirou roared, but was unable to finish his big dramatic moment of first-naming Bakugo for the first time, because he’d lost control. His hands hardened into what may as well have been daggers as he grabbed Bakugo’s hips, his quirk inadvertently switched on, and came with a yell. The thrusts were so hard that the headboard hit the wall and promptly cracked in half. Eijirou stilled, breathing heavily. Bakugo was looking up at him, dazed, with come splashed all over his stomach.
Long scratches decorated his pelvis, stretching down his ass and thighs. Eijirou looked at his hands. They were back to normal, but blood dripped from his fingertips. Before he could say anything, Bakugo dragged him back down, his eyes dark and full of desire.
“Do that again,” he said, breathless.
They did.
Afterwards, Eijirou finally allowed himself to panic. “I can’t believe I lost control. Holy-shit-holy -freakin’-shit, I’m so sorry—”
“Will you shut the fuck up? I told you.” Katsuki stood by the dresser and turned around to button up his shirt. "I liked it.”
“I injured you! I could’ve done worse! I broke the bed! We have to see Recovery Girl…”
Katsuki snorted. “And what’s she gonna do? Literally kiss my ass?! And the bed was tacky as shit, anyway.”
“This is a honeymoon suite,” Eijirou realized, horrified. “It costs a lot, for sure.”
“Their fault for not making it quirk-safe and sticking it on an island full of pro-heroes,” Katsuki said with a flippant wave of his hand.
“Kat…Suki,” the word felt strange on his tongue at first. But he liked saying it. “Are you sure you’re okay? I could’ve seriously hurt you.”
“You’re becoming seriously annoying.” The blond had crawled on top of him again, pressing him down on the (now mangled) bed. The mattress felt uneven now. Eijirou’s back was hurting from lying down on it.
The pain meant nothing though, now that Katsuki was mid-straddle, looking at him like that. He hadn’t even known Katsuki to be capable of looking sultry.
“You can’t just pretend – uh.” The rest of his sentence died in his throat, because he realized the figure on top of him was dressed in a very familiar striped button-down. One that stopped mid-thigh. He ran his hands down the fabric, mesmerized. “Is this… Are you wearing one of my shirts?” He asked, voice climbing to a squeak.
His fingers continued to skate downward, conscious of the red marks etched on Katsuki’s thighs. Even half-covered, they stood out like graffiti.
Katsuki gave a cruel laugh. “Yeah. ‘Cause I’m gonna sit around in this and wait,” he said, rolling his hips and sending all of Eijirou’s bloodflow back to his spent dick. “Until you stop being a pansy so we can go another round.”
“But the bed’s broken.”
“The floor isn’t,” Katsuki pointed out.
Eijirou had been right: this was as perfect a time as any, to start using first names. Especially when your not-boyfriend was wearing nothing but your shirt in a honeymoon suite, looking at you like he wanted to devour you whole even right after you’d just defeated a villain, broken the bed and carved him up like a Christmas ham.
Eijirou growled out “Katsuki—” in warning, and barely a second later, he pounced.
Notes:
Next up: Todoroki gets his turn in the limelight. Will he figure it out what's going on? Will Kirishima? Who will end up prom king and queen? Is prom gonna be as bad as it sounds?! Feel free to guess.
Stay tuned.
Chapter 3: Todoroki Wants To Be Forever Young
Summary:
Todoroki enters the game.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Shouto wondered whether going to a convenience store and buying bentos together officially counted as a ‘first date’. It ticked off most of the boxes: They were alone. They were eating on benches under a Sakura tree, during sunset, and although it lacked the crisp spring atmosphere and slowly descending petals, he supposed he could make up for that if he held Midoriya’s hand or something.
Only, he and Midoriya were eating. So holding hands would be counterproductive.
Shouto studied Midoriya, who was lost in thought as he chewed on a slice of pork cutlet. He wasn’t engaging in conversation despite being the one who’d done the inviting, which was unexpected. Frankly, he had assumed Midoriya would talk more, but the other male simply sat there, picking at his food.
He sent glances at Shouto occasionally. As if building up the courage to ask a question. “Midoriya, is there—” he said, at the same time Midoriya spoke.
“Do you think Kirishima and Kacchan might secretly be dating?”
“Uh.” It wasn’t the sort of question he had expected. Boyfriends didn’t normally ask people to get food just so they could talk about other people’s relationships. Or did they? Was that why Midoriya seemed bothered by Bakugo’s presence back at the library? He could honestly say he had never entertained the possibility of Bakugo and Kirishima together. Mostly because he couldn’t picture Bakugo saying yes to anyone. “What gave you that idea?”
“I’ve heard rumors.”
“From who?”
“…Kirishima?”
“Kirishima’s spreading rumors about himself?” Shouto asked, more confused by the second.
“No, it’s just... Here, listen.” And Midoriya launched into a spiel. His face went bright red when he explained Bakugo’s supposed… Hidden talents. Shouto made every effort to keep up with his rambling even as his brain was overloaded with unwanted and extremely sordid information. Bakugo self-lubricating? Shouto couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the concept. That was… Hm. He refused to picture it.
“I had no idea this was such an issue for you. I understand your relationship with Bakugo is complicated, but—”
“I’ve wondered myself if it’s a childhood friend thing…” Midoriya admitted. His fascination with Bakugo bordered on unhealthy, Shouto had always known that. But then again, isn’t this what he’d signed up for? Wasn’t he the one who’d told Midoriya all about his family issues when they’d first met? So he didn’t exactly have a leg to stand on.
He couldn’t possibly expect Midoriya to suddenly change just from dating him. He was supposed to appreciate every aspect of him, right? Even the scrutiny that was always directed toward Bakugo? Would Midoriya talking about Bakugo would become a regular occurrence?
God, he hoped not.
“Have you ever thought of confronting him directly?” He suggested, then finished slurping up a noodle.
“And what? Ask him, ‘Hey Kacchan, word through the grapevine was that you can lube your own ass, oh by the way, are you and Kirishima secret boyfriends?” Shouto spat the noodle back out.
“G-good point,” he coughed. He was picturing the ensuing body count, and it was in the hundreds.
“I’m sorry,” Midoriya said. His chopsticks clattered onto the bento box and he rubbed at his eyes tiredly. “I didn’t mean to bother you with this. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
“No, it’s fine. I mean, we’re dating. We should be honest about our feelings.” That’s what he was supposed to say, right? At least, according to all those dating articles he’d read online. “I appreciate you telling me this. I really do.” He patted Midoriya’s back in a way he hoped was comforting. It seemed to work anyhow, because the other male managed a smile in return.
“You’re a great boyfriend, Todoroki,” Midoriya said, touching his arm.
Shouto didn’t answer. Was he a great boyfriend? It’s not like he’d given any substantial advice.
He waited for the compliment to sink in.
--
Shouto did not often wake up to the sound of someone banging on his door.
Rubbing his eyes, he stumbled toward it and twisted the knob. Kaminari was instantly on him, grabbing at his sweater.
“Todoroki! You’re the first person I thought of. Please, you gotta help Jirou, she—” Kaminari swallowed and hunched over, hands on his knees. The rest of his words were intermingled with sobs. “She’s hurt real bad and I don’t know what to do—”
“What happened?”
“We were doing stuff and I got overexcited and she got burnt,” Kaminari said in one breath. Then Shouto understood why Kaminari had chosen him, given his experience with burns was literally etched on his face.
“We need a moist towel. Have you called an ambulance?”
“Yeah, but…” He could feel Kaminari’s eyes on his back as he rummaged through a drawer to pull out ointment. “Can’t you just use your ice?”
“You can if you want her to end up looking like this,” He responded, pointing at the left side of his face. Kaminari grimaced.
“O-Okay, sorry.”
Shouto quickly followed Kaminari to his room. Jirou was on his bed, face contorted into a grimace so severe that her eyes looked closed. For a moment, he thought she was unconscious. But she blinked up at him as he bent over her. “Todoroki…?”
Her cheeks turned pink as she tugged the towel covering her chest a little higher. Her shoulders and stomach were bare, a blanket drawn up to her hips. So this was what Kaminari had meant by ‘stuff’. Shouto felt his own blush rising from the neck up and tried to will it away by focusing on her wounds: twin red marks, each the size of palms, on the sides of her waist.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Shouto murmured. One of the wounds was already starting to swell. He got to work, gently placing the moist towel across her stomach. Jirou’s sigh of relief alleviated some of the tension in his shoulders.
As he watched Aizawa yell at Kaminari a little while later, Shouto had come to a realization: that what he had initially regarded as a horrific first attempt at sex with Midoriya may have been a blessing in disguise.
Neither of them had factored in their quirks that night. Who knows what could have gone wrong, given that both of theirs happened to be extremely powerful? Apparently people tended to lose control while having sex, seeing as how Kaminari, under normal circumstances, wasn’t prone to accidentally electrocuting people.
The last thing he wanted to happen was him burning Midoriya, or worse. His scar prickled at the thought of it.
Maybe it was best to avoid sex altogether for now.
--
Sex, or its lack thereof, turned out to be the least of their problems.
“I suppose you’ll be going together?” Uraraka asked during lunch. They looked at each other awkwardly, until Shouto slowly nodded.
Frankly, he hadn’t even been thinking of prom at all. And it definitely was a problem that he hadn’t automatically connected this inherently romantic event to spending time with Midoriya. Had he been too hasty in asking him out? Because the longer this went on, the more evident it became that neither of them knew what they were doing.
It’s not like he had a suitable frame of reference when it came to relationships. In fact, the only couple he was really familiar with had been… His parents. And that – well, the less said about them, the better.
“Well, we are dating, so I guess so,” he said lamely. Uraraka frowned. He didn’t expect his statement to have such a negative effect on her, seeing as she’d been their biggest cheerleader up to this point.
“Would it kill you guys to be a little more enthusiastic? I don’t even have a date! And it’s hard not to feel lonely when everyone in class is pairing up!”
“Not true,” Shouto replied. In a desperate bid to make her feel better, he said the first thing he thought of. “Mineta has no one to go with either.”
“Thanks, Todoroki. So now I’m on the same level as Mineta. Just swell.”
“You can always go with Iida, as friends?” Midoriya tried.
“He’s taking Hatsume. I heard it was a heck of a prom-posal, too.” With a great sigh, she buried her face in her hands. “No one likes me,” she whimpered, her voice muffled. Shouto and Midoriya shared an anxious look. They could scarcely even talk about their feelings for each other to each other, so how could they possibly resolve Uraraka’s?
“That’s not true, Uraraka. We like you,” Midoriya said soothingly. There was so much sincerity in his voice that it left Shouto awed. Of course Midoriya would still try to help. Compassion and empathy were what he did best.
That’s why Shouto had chosen to date him in the first place.
He hid his smile behind a spoonful of rice as Midoriya began the intricate process of coaxing Uraraka out of her melancholy, using a smattering of factoids, statistics and anecdotes about heroes’ dating lives.
--
Shouto resolved to make prom a night to remember.
It would be the first date between them. Their first official event as a couple. And he’d done his research in preparation for it. He ordered matching boutonnieres, a nice black suit comfortable enough to dance in, and All Might-shaped chocolates to give to Midoriya.
The boutonnieres arrived on time. So did the black suit. But to Shouto’s annoyance, the chocolates were nowhere to be found on the day of the event. He had checked his mailbox twice that day already, and it was empty both times.
Prom was in an hour.
He swore loudly as he checked his watch. His tie was unknotted around his neck, shirt untucked, boutonnieres in hand. The amount of multi-tasking he had to do was ridiculous. Giving it one more try, he ran down to check the mail sorter again after placing the boutonnieres on the coffee table.
Empty.
He shouldn’t have been surprised when he returned to the coffee table and saw Kouda’s rabbit nosing through what looked like remnants of carnations.
“No,” he whispered in despair. Shot a glare at the rabbit, picked up a petal morosely. Well, that was that. He went back upstairs so he could finish getting ready and submit a negative review to the chocolate brand’s Amazon page.
When he met up with Midoriya in front of Heights Alliance, Shouto had no chocolates to give or boutonnieres to share. He gave the shorter male a mumbled greeting, whereas Midoriya looked downright excited, bouncing on the balls of his red shoes.
“Can you believe it, Todoroki? Our first prom as heroes!" He tugged Shouto in the direction of Gamma Gym. Touched by Midoriya’s enthusiasm, he managed a smile. There was still plenty of opportunities at the prom itself, so the date couldn’t be considered a bust (yet). On the way, they overtook some 1-A members of the prom committee, who were slowed down by the effort of dragging a very irate Tokoyami with them.
For an event that had been set up in a matter of weeks, prom was nothing like Shouto had expected. It was… Much darker, for one. Literally. He didn’t know how he was expected to recognize anyone in this sea of shadows. The theme was apparently, ‘Twilight Forest’, and giant artificial trees wrapped in fairy lights were now scattered around the gym, stretching high enough to touch the ceiling. As impressive as they appeared, Shouto wished there had been more focus on the ‘Twilight’ part; he’d walked right into one of the trees upon entering the venue.
Colorful lights spun around but mainly highlighted the stage and dance floor. They gave the entire event a club-like atmosphere and left Shouto feeling overly-formal in his double-breasted suit. The music (outdated American songs) was loud, and the crowd was determined to match its volume as hundreds of conversations took place simultaneously, creating a buzzing noise in Shouto’s ears.
Midoriya said something, which he didn’t catch.
“What?” He asked.
“Photos!” Midoriya practically shouted, as he pointed out a booth near the entrance.
They took a few shots: one of him and Midoriya arm in arm, another with them doing matching peace signs. It reminded Shouto of the time they’d done something similar at an arcade, the same place where they had bumped into—
“Hey! Finally, people we recognize!” Kirishima sidled up to them, dragging Bakugo in tow. The blond looked wide-eyed and anxious, like he preferred to be anywhere else. He was one of the few men in the room wearing a suit that wasn’t black. White looked good on him, Shouto admitted begrudgingly; no doubt that it was Kirishima’s doing.
“Got room for a group photo, you two? Can’t pass up this opportunity to be in a picture with the future Big Three!”
“Why should I—” Bakugo was already protesting, but Kirishima merely shushed him and pushed him toward the center, next to Midoriya, who made a strangled sort of noise when Bakugo collided with him. “Don’t fucking touch me,” Bakugo hissed. Shouto was about to retort but the photographer interrupted them.
“Lean in closer so you all can fit.”
From left to right, they stood: Shouto, Midoriya, Bakugo, then Kirishima. Kirishima’s arm was thrown around Bakugo’s shoulder, holding him place. Shouto felt Midoriya’s hand, light on his back. He touched Midoriya’s arm in return, and with his free hand, leaned in to give Bakugo bunny ears. He’d seen Mina do that to Aoyama a lot and everyone had always found it funny.
They were each given a copy of the photo, and Shouto slipped it into his pocket along with the ones he and Midoriya had taken. Bakugo looked to be on the verge of lighting his on fire so Kirishima quickly ripped it away from him. “Thanks, guys!” The redhead said cheerfully, and he and Bakugo disappeared into the crowd.
He and Midoriya were soon engulfed in the mass of people. It was hard not to take two steps without bumping into someone, and the dim lights made them much harder to identify. Though some, like Aizawa, were instantly recognizable: he gave them a cursory nod as he passed, dragging a bundle of capture tape behind him. Wrapped in it was a small figure whose screaming voice sounded awfully like Mineta’s.
“Hey, it’s Shinsou!” Midoriya waved, as a familiar shock of purple hair cropped up nearby. Shinsou approached, decked out in an all-black ensemble. A large red badge was pinned to his lapel and he carried a clipboard. “I didn’t know you were with the prom committee!”
He cast both of them a withering look (although Shouto knew he probably didn’t mean anything by it; ‘withering’ seemed to be his default expression) and leafed through names on his info sheets.
“Thought it’d be useful to get to know my prospective classmates before I pick a section to transfer into,” he explained, his index finger sliding down the paper he was examining.
“You get to choose?!” Midoriya said, his eyes huge.
“Apparently, I do,” Shinsou said in a much louder voice. He turned to glare at the blond figure on the stage currently yelling into the microphone. Monoma seemed to be using the microphone to make fun of a student who had shown up wearing tartan. “Your class is winning, by the way.”
Shinsou led them to the 1-A table. It was two tables away from the dance floor, and gave them the perfect view of a red-faced Iida being shown some new gadget by Hatsume. Why she chose to do so on the dance floor, Shouto could only guess. Midoriya soon excused himself to go talk to them (and check out the device himself, no doubt).
The couples of 1-A (Ojiro-Hagakure, Kaminari-Jirou and Sero-Mina) were already seated in Tiffany chairs decorated with huge green ribbons. Shouto dropped into a seat next to Sero, just in time for a waiter to pour juice into his glass.
Shouto hastily drank. Were proms usually this warm? He had been thirsty since he’d arrived. The atmosphere was muggy; no doubt the gym wasn’t built to contain the entire population of UA (and more) for extended periods of time.
“I wouldn’t drink so much of that if I were you,” Sero muttered to him.
“But it’s juice?” Shouto stared at the contents of the glass. It looked, and tasted normal. “Or did you spike it again?”
“No,” Sero insisted. Shouto raised an eyebrow at him and the other male flashed a guilty grin. “Okay! I admit I tried but apparently someone beat me to it. That one.” He pointed at a nearby girl, who had long brown tresses and wore a white gown. “Her quirk is to turn any liquid alcoholic without it tasting any different. Dude, best freakin’ quirk ever!”
Shouto regretfully pushed his glass away. Getting wasted in public was not how he wanted to spend the night. He would have to warn Midoriya as well.
Speaking of Midoriya… Shouto’s date still hadn’t returned. A quick scan of the crowd gave him no leads. Where had he run off to? 1-A classmates came and went, greeting him politely before heading off to mingle.
Shouto waited. And waited, and waited—
The dance floor was rapidly filling up, and he had been so focused on wondering where Midoriya was that he just realized that only two other people were now left at the table with him: Tokoyami, across him and glaring at anyone who dared glance in his direction, and Bakugo, who had purposely left an empty seat between himself and Shouto.
Kirishima wasn’t with him. But one look at the crowd revealed his whereabouts: Shouto spotted his spiky red hair among the group cheering on Mina as she breakdanced at the very center of the dancefloor. “That’s my girlfriend!” Sero bellowed, and he himself soon joined the fray by winding tape around her waist and pulling it rapidly, turning her into a human top. The cheers grew louder.
But where was Midoriya?
Shouto looked back at Bakugo, who was oddly quiet and couldn’t seem to sit still. He was constantly tugging on his shirt collar and wiping at his forehead with a table napkin. Then he would take a drink, exhale sharply and repeat the process. Shouto wanted to ask him if he was okay, maybe warn him that the juice was spiked.
He decided not to, for several reasons. One, because Bakugo would just tell him to fuck off. Two, because the music was so loud that holding a conversation was pretty much impossible. And three, because spending more time with Bakugo than his own prom date was not at all the prom Shouto had envisioned.
So the three remaining occupants of the table continued to sit in silence, an unspoken rule between them to ignore each other’s presence at all costs.
“Hey, first years. Remember me?” A tall man had approached their table, smiling all-too-innocently as he surveyed them all. His wild black hair strongly reminded Shouto of Midoriya. He looked familiar, but Shouto couldn’t place—
“I hardly recognized you without that stupid-as-shit costume of yours,” Bakugo groused, and it dawned on Shouto that this guy – Shindou – had taken the provisional license exam with them. His smile, too wide and not quite reaching his eyes, was unfazed even with Bakugo’s remark.
Hell, Shindou looked even happier upon hearing it.
“You miss seeing my bare chest, eh, Bakugo?”
Bakugo rolled his eyes, and set down his glass with a loud thump. “Alright. Which pathetic UA student was dumb enough to date you?”
“They invited me here as a friend, actually. I’m single, just so you know. Are you here with anyone?” He loomed over Bakugo, hand gripping the empty chair beside Shouto. His whole posture seemed oddly threatening for a man that was all smiles and compliments.
“Could you just fucking leave already,” Bakugo said.
Shouto blinked; admittedly, he was often slow on the uptake. But even he couldn’t miss that Bakugo seemed subdued— no, more like, downright exhausted, actually. The blond normally would’ve started yelling long before Shindou got a word in. Instead his shoulders were slumped, worse than ever, and he looked out of breath, wringing the napkin in his hands.
“But I came here with the explicit intention of asking you to dance.”
Bakugo drew back sharply. “Why the fuck would I ever dance with you?”
“Please?” Shindou held out a hand. “I’ll make it worth your while?”
With an angry noise Bakugo slapped Shindou’s hand away, then got up and stormed off. Shouto couldn’t blame him. There was just something about Shindou that gave him the urge to trap him in a glacier.
“It’s hotter the more embarrassed he gets,” Shindou said, looking at Shouto. “Wouldn’t you agree?” Still sporting that eerie smile, he didn’t bother waiting for Shouto to respond before leaving.
What the hell was that?
Shouto glanced around, at the napkin and empty glasses Bakugo had left behind, and then at Tokoyami, who still looked sullen. Two of them were left at the table. Should he still wait?
His leg was starting to fall asleep so he got up and decided to find Midoriya himself. But before he’d even taken ten steps, a third year girl stopped him, blushing, and asked if he wanted to dance.
“Yeah,” he said, and while searching for a way to escape, spotted a familiar figure. “With her.” He pointed at Yaoyorozu, who was wearing a long red dress with a slit up to her thigh. After all, they’d always shared a kinship as the two recommended students of 1-A; she was comfortable to talk to and looked as lonely as he currently felt.
“Yaoyorozu,” he called. “Would you dance with me?”
She blinked, apparently in the middle of prom committee business because her phone was in her hand. “Actually, I—oh, alright.” Thankfully, there was a merciful lull in the deafening music, making it easier to talk.
“I hope your prom date doesn’t mind,” Shouto said, as he placed his hands on her waist.
“No prom date,” she replied, which left him speechless. Did no one ask her? From what he knew, Yaoyorozu was quite popular, even in other sections. As if reading his expression, she laughed. “Of course people asked me. But I turned them down.”
“Why?” They drifted along the dance floor, Yaoyoruzu’s hands feather-light on his shoulders.
“I wanted to help plan it. Though of course, things didn’t quite pan out since Monoma’s a bit of a control freak. He wouldn’t let me make any decorations. And for some reason he really loves paper mache and wood. Hence...” She looked up, frowning at the trees.
“Well, it’s nice.”
“Not exactly what I would call plus ultra, though.” There was silence for a while between them. Yaoyorozu was looking at him intently. “So, Midoriya huh?”
“What?” He recalled his boyfriend. His prom date. Whose whereabouts were unknown. “Oh. Yeah.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, Todoroki, but I was rather surprised when I found out.”
“Why?”
“Well, you seem like close friends. But it seemed more brotherly than anything. It would be like if you and Iida… Ah, please don’t think of it as an insult—”
“Is there anyone you’re interested in?” He asked instead, because he didn’t want to have to justify his dating Midoriya, which he already did more than enough of in his own head. Nor did he want to admit that Midoriya had run off on him.
“Yes,” she said, turning pink.
“How’d you know you were interested in them?”
Yaoyorozu looked deep in thought before answering. She gave a concise answer in the exact same manner that she often used in class. “I’ve thought about them more than I should. I’ve admittedly neglected some aspects of my life in favor of spending time with them. I’ve done stupid things to get their attention.”
It gave Shouto pause, realizing he couldn’t relate at all to what she was saying. Had he ever done any of those things with regards to Midoriya? He thought about it but came up blank, which was… Worrying. But.
He felt calmer and happier whenever he was around Midoriya… He felt inspired to do his best… He felt utmost respect for him… Didn’t those feelings count? Then again, he also felt the same way about All Might, didn’t he? And he didn’t want to think of the implications of that so he quickly moved on.
“Whoever they are, they would be lucky to have you.”
Flushing crimson, Yaoyorozu gave an embarrassed giggle. “Fine, I’ll tell you. It’s Awase that I’m interested in. But more than that, I’ll always prioritize my dream of being a hero, really.”
Speaking of priorities…
Shouto quickly thanked her for dancing with him (filing the detail about Awase away) and stepped out of the building, an unpleasant roiling in his gut. He turned right and decided to circle the gym in hopes that he would stumble across his boyfriend and get a reasonable explanation for his disappearance.
He was well aware that Midoriya had a knack for suddenly disappearing only to get into life-threatening situations. The boy was a magnet for danger. Maybe Shouto’d find him fighting yet another villain?
There was a flash of movement and Shouto was about to throw ice in that direction when Ojiro stepped out from behind a tree, fiddling with the zipper of his trousers.
“Ojiro?”
“Oh, hey, Todoroki,” came his awkward response. He kept looking sideways, which Shouto thought was very strange.
And then it hit him and he sighed. “…Hagakure’s here too, isn’t she?”
“Eeee, how’d you know?” A small voice piped up.
Shouto averted his eyes, mumbled about having to find Midoriya and took off again. He thought that would be the last embarrassing scene he would walk in on that night, but was quickly proven wrong. Every few minutes, he came across a couple sneaking around. Most of them, he thankfully didn’t recognize, aside from Nejire and a pink-haired girl who were twirling each other around and seemed to be drunk or (knowing Nejire) maybe just really happy. Or both.
The frustration that had been building up all night eventually peaked. The fifth couple he bumped into, he finally snapped at. This was what prom had reduced him to: a grumpy asshole who was ruining other people’s nights just because he couldn’t find his date. Why hadn’t Midoriya bothered to send a text, or anything, instead leaving him to do a scavenger hunt? He had reached the back of the gym and eyed the other surrounding buildings. Surely, Midoriya hadn’t gone that far?
(He was dimly aware that everyone he’d bumped into had been with someone else… Could Midoriya be with someone, too…?)
In the middle of deciding whether he should complete his rounds of the gym grounds or try checking elsewhere, he smelled it.
A familiar scent, but one he couldn’t place. It reminded him of the kitchen at Heights Alliance, whenever Sato baked…
Curious, he followed it.
It led him to one of the smaller gyms right across the road, growing stronger the closer he got. He caught sight of something white moving… Against the wall? He was still too far to tell. Whoever it was, they had clearly gone through great lengths to not be seen.
What if it was Midoriya…?
He drew closer, stepping into a clearing occupied by trees and bushes. The figure turned out to be two. Two people, one black-suited one pressing the other up against the wall. He could only see them from the waist-up as his view was partially blocked by foliage. But when he squinted, they sharpened into focus.
It wasn’t even the most explicit scene he’d walked in on that evening, not by a long shot. But in some ways, it was the most intimate. Probably because he recognized them immediately, saw them in class everyday, lived with them.
And he never in a million years thought he’d be seeing them like this.
Bakugo was leaning against the wall, his head tipped to the side. His eyes were half-closed as he mouthed something with four syllables (a name?). He looked… Relaxed, almost. His arms were wrapped around Kirishima, hands fisted in his suit jacket and bunching it up at the back.
He was in complete surrender, exposing as much of his neck as possible. Jacket and shirt were open, hanging loosely off one side. Kirishima’s teeth – no, his fangs were on the juncture between Bakugo’s neck and shoulder. Kirishima was rocking against him, murmuring something. Bakugo’s eyes fluttered closed, lips parted in a gasp.
Shouto hadn’t thought Bakugo capable of making that face.
He barely caught a glimpse of them before tearing his gaze away immediately, face aflame. He needed to focus. Find Midoriya.
There was an uncomfortable feeling rising in his chest. It wasn’t disgust, but something undeniably painful. A pulsing ache; his heart trying to hammer its way out of his ribcage.
Had it really been them? They were acting completely at odds with his perception of them. Kirishima, aggressive and pushy. Bakugo, submissive and docile.
He jogged back toward Gamma Gym. He still hadn’t covered the left side of the building, certainly he’d find Midoriya there. And if not…
Midoriya had been right all along about Kirishima and Bakugo, which meant—
Shouto sped up. Why was he panicking? Why was he still thinking about it? He wasn’t the one who’d been caught in an embarrassing situation. There was no reason to be this bothered by it.
Bakugo in white, wrecked—
NO! Midoriya. He needed to look for Midoriya…!
“What if I don’t find anyone? What if I never have something like yours and Todoroki’s…?”
Shouto spun around. He was so distracted by his thoughts that he’d run straight past the back of a bench. When he looked back, his heart felt caught in his throat.
Midoriya was sitting on the bench. Beside him was Uraraka, with her head nestled in his lap. She was sniffling, while he rubbed circles on her shuddering back. His voice was soft and affectionate.
“Todoroki and I are still figuring stuff out, you know? We’re trying as hard as you are, just in a different way. So don’t stop hoping! You’re gonna meet a great guy, I know it…”
Relief washed over Shouto. In this mess of a night, for once, something had finally clicked into place. He’d found Midoriya, who had only disappeared because… He’d deemed it an emergency to tend to the feelings of their best friend.
It was so typical of Midoriya that he wanted to kick himself for being worried in the first place. Midoriya was a good person. Empathetic to a ridiculous degree. Always knew the right thing to say. That’s why he’d asked him out, right? Because he thought of Midoriya as the one person who would not hurt him. And he’d been right. And now he felt foolish for trying to monopolize Midoriya’s time, especially when Uraraka was hurting this badly all along.
And to think he’d almost thought his faith had been misplaced…
“You guys,” he said, sighing. “I’ve been looking– all over—”
“Todoroki!” Uraraka and Midoriya said together. Uraraka checked her phone and gasped.
“Oh, crap. We have to get back! The program’s gonna start and I’m supposed to help with the coronation!”
“Coronation?”
“Announcement of prom royalty. Come on, come on!”
Uraraka took a few moments to make herself presentable, using Shouto's napkin to scrub away remnants of her tears. Then, they scrambled to re-enter the gym. Shouto returned to their class table with Midoriya, while Uraraka waved them off and headed for the stage. They arrived just in time to catch a slideshow, which featured still photos of UA students synced to ill-fitting rock music.
After a few words from Nezu that had Shouto spacing out, Present Mic took the stage and explained the voting system for electing prom royalty. Shouto hadn’t even filled out a ballot. Not that he cared. He couldn’t think of anyone who somehow fit the title of ‘Prom Queen’ and the like.
Present Mic held a half-opened envelope in his hand. “Tonight, let’s give a round of applause to our Prom Princess…” He stopped and grinned, a ham-fisted way of building suspense that caused several students to yell at him to just open the damn thing. “Geez, you’re a rude bunch! Anyway, our Prom Princess is Asui Tsuyu of 1-A! And our Prom Prince is… Also from 1-A! Tokoyami Fumikage!”
Polite applause echoed through the gym and was loudest in patches where fellow 1-A students stood. Despite that, Shouto could hear several people muttering around him.
“Who?”
“I didn’t vote for them… Is Class 1-A really that popular…?”
He pointedly ignored them as he and Midoriya clapped. Their words wouldn’t sour his mood: Midoriya was finally next to him, and nothing else mattered. He could still salvage the night, they could share a dance—it would be romantic, not like the awkward trysts he’d walked in on.
--Were Bakugo and Kirishima still out there—
Focus! Shouto observed Midoriya, who was grinning at the sight of their classmates being awarded. Tsuyu shyly walked up the stage, urged by Mineta and Uraraka. But from the opposite end, Tokoyami seemed to be resisting. He was struggling against Sero and Kaminari, feathers unkempt, looking more cross than when they had shared the table.
The two were crowned and adorned with sashes. People were giggling now, some whistling far too loudly as the pair was forced to pose for pictures.
“Imagine what their kids would look like. Eurgh.”
Shouto looked around for whoever said that cruel remark. No luck, which caused him to let out a huff in frustration. It was becoming clear that this awarding was not having its intended effect. Monoma alone looked apoplectic at the prospect of awarding two 1-A students when 1-B had nothing, and the demeanor of the winners themselves weren’t helping. Tokoyami crossed his arms and was looking pointedly away from Tsuyu, who looked uncomfortable as her efforts to talk to him went ignored.
“Nejire and Mirio are the most popular students in third year, I bet they’ll win,” Midoriya mumbled. Shouto nodded, placing a hand on his. He wished Present Mic would get on with the awarding already. He wanted to get to the part where he could ask Midoriya to dance with him.
“And now, I’d like to welcome UA’s very first Prom Queen…” Present Mic made a show of opening the next envelope at a snail’s pace.
“B-Bakugo Katsuki…of 1-A?”
Present Mic let out an astonished laugh, and read further. His eyes were so wide that his shades had slid half-way down his nose.
“Which makes the Prom King… Todoroki Shouto of 1-A?” His jaw dropped. “WHAT? I thought only third years were in the running for King and Queen?!”
Shouto’s blood turned to (metaphorical) ice.
There was marginally less applause than before. But a lot more comments. Mutterings and murmurs. Whispers. Laughter that was getting steadily louder.
“Oh god, 1-A again?” Shouto couldn't help but agree with the sentiment. What were the odds? Surely outside their class, no one would’ve wanted to see 1-A do a cleansweep of prom of all things?
“That Bakugo guy really can’t go ten minutes without being the center of attention, huh?”
“Obviously rigged… Cheaters…”
“I swear, 1-A really does ruin everything.”
“Well,” Present Mic said, pushing up his glasses. “Uh, come up on stage, you two.”
Shouto refused to move.
Meanwhile, Bakugo was already on his way up, half-struggling, half-dragged by Kirishima. “Alright, which one of you fuckers did this? I’m gonna kick your ass!” People were pointing at him. Phones were being pulled out and aimed in his direction.
“You should go up there, Todoroki,” Midoriya nudged him, brows furrowed with concern. “Don’t leave Kacchan all alone.”
Shouto had no choice. So he went, passing a table of crying third years (“No fair, I wanted to be Shouto’s queen!”). Feeling all eyes on him, he clambered up the stage with feet that were heavy as lead. And slowly made his way to meet Bakugo in the center.
The snide comments escalated into yells. The ringing in his ears failed to drown them out. Shouto found himself pushed against Bakugo roughly, as a photographer leered at them from below and snapped pictures.
“Kiss!” Shouted several people in the crowd.
“Shut up!” Bakugo yelled, and stumbled. Shouto caught him around the waist to steady him, which turned out to be a mistake as it triggered more uproar. Shouto found himself disgusted by the level of vulgarity UA students were proving themselves capable of.
“What’s up with him?” Shinsou said, appearing at Shouto’s side with a long white ribbon. He was looking at Bakugo warily.
“Nothing, he’s just…” Shouto abandoned the rest of his sentence in favor of assisting Shinsou, by pinning Bakugo’s arms to his sides, so the other male could loop the sash (embossed with ‘PROM QUEEN’ in glitter) around him. Shouto received the same treatment with a silver one marked ‘PROM KING’, and groaned as a gaudy crown was placed on his head for added measure.
“Well, despite these… Unexpected results…” Present Mic’s focus seemed to be torn between the buzzing of the crowd, Monoma screaming while trying to strong-arm his way toward the stage, and the four very unenthusiastic ‘winners’. “Those who’ve been crowned are supposed to lead the first dance. So let’s get on with it!”
The catcalls persisted as they were led offstage and left deserted on the dance floor, which was now empty save for the four of them. Tsuyu wasn’t having much luck with Tokoyami, who’d pretty much shut down completely. He stood in one spot refusing to move as onlookers continued to taunt him.
“Come on,” muttered Shouto, grabbing Bakugo by the hand. With surprisingly little resistance, he followed, and they made their way to the middle. The looming familiarity of the situation set in: the embarrassment, the feeling of overwhelming helplessness, and the relentless sound of a shutter going off. Shouto had been through this before.
He was sick of it. He was a hero, being treated like a roadside attraction. And the only way out was to cooperate. So all he had to do was finish this stupid dance because that’s all it was, cheers and laughter be damned. Taking the reins, he positioned Bakugo’s hands for him, guiding one to his shoulder and clasping the other with his own. He grabbed Bakugo’s waist and commenced their slowdance, pretending they weren’t being watched by all of UA while a sickeningly romantic eighties song blared over the speakers.
It was awkward for a couple of seconds, until class 1-A came to their rescue. In a show of solidarity their classmates soon joined them. Shouto smiled, touched, as Mina and Sero ran over, giggling and winking. They were quickly followed by Kaminari and Jirou, and even Tetsutetsu and Kendou, with Tetsutetsu flashing Shouto a sympathetic sort of smile. The breath Shouto had been holding came out a sigh of relief.
More couples filled up the dancefloor. It would certainly help conceal him and Bakugo from view, and for that he was thankful. Iida was failing to impress Hatsume with the Robot. Shindou and his date danced close enough for him to regard them with a too-wide smirk.
Shouto wondered if it was still possible to dance with Midoriya, and how he could go about making that transition with the least tumult possible. Bakugo was being… Surprisingly cooperative, and Shouto had no doubt he was also counting down the seconds to their dance’s end.
Upon noticing the accessory in Bakugo’s hair, he couldn’t help it. His mouth twitched.
“The fuck are you laughing at,” Bakugo grumbled. A plastic tiara, bedazzled with sparkling gems reflecting the lights overhead, was askew and half-hidden in his hair. It looked like it had been jammed haphazardly onto his head by someone aiming for a quick getaway.
“This whole thing reminds me of that villain who made us pose for pictures.”
“Oh. That asshole.” Bakugo said, cocking his head. “What about him?”
His pale neck shone under the overly-bright light. Shouto’s gaze shifted to the now covered spot next to Bakugo’s shoulder, the one he had watched Kirishima claim. Was there a mark? Probably. What other souvenirs was Bakugo hiding under his suit…?
No. He refused to think about it. He refused.
Focus.
He met Bakugo’s gaze. Now that Shouto could see him up close and under a literal spotlight, he could tell immediately that something was off. Bakugo’s hand felt cold, and his movements were uncoordinated. His normally fierce red eyes looked dull and sunken. He kept licking his lips, while taking shallow breaths through his mouth.
“He made us do this exact pose, remember? Then threatened to spread our pictures all over the internet. And we stopped him then, but look at us now.”
“Still not seeing what’s… Supposed to be funny.” The latter half of Bakugo’s sentence came out hoarse, filling Shouto with apprehension. But how could he bring it up…?
“It’s called irony, Bakugo.” The blond scoffed, frowning. He was looking at the stage, his back to the crowd.
“Hey, Icy Hot… Is Deku watching?”
Shouto checked. Midoriya was standing on the edge of the dance floor, an unreadable expression on his face. He wasn’t smiling, that’s for sure. It sent a twinge of guilt straight through him.
“He doesn’t look happy.”
Bakugo snorted. “Good,” he muttered, and promptly buried his face in Shouto’s neck.
Shouto made a confused noise but couldn’t find it in himself to push Bakugo off. A strong whiff permeated his nostrils, like he’d been shoved face-first into a cake.
Bakugo was behaving – and smelling – very strangely, and whatever the cause, it was making him deteriorate at an alarming rate. He was no longer moving his legs, which left Shouto cursing as he barely avoided stepping on Bakugo’s shoes for the third time.
“Bakugo… You feel really cold.”
“Of course I do,” he mumbled into the shoulderpads of Shouto’s jacket. “M’pressed up against a freakin’ ice cube.”
“Maybe we should—” He moved to try and feel Bakugo’s forehead, but the blond clutched his hand in a deathgrip.
“Quit groping me. Or else people will talk.” Shouto thought this was a bit hypocritical, seeing as Bakugo was the one nuzzling up to him. He lamented the pictures that were going to come out of this. And lamented the night in general.
“They’re already talking, though,” he murmured. Bakugo hummed in response, and the sound went straight down Shouto’s spine.
What was wrong with him? Bakugo’s hand on Shouto’s shoulder had no heft to it, while the other trembled in his grip. Shouto was almost sure he was now supporting Bakugo’s entire weight, as the other boy sagged deeper and deeper against him. With their chests pressed together, Shouto finally decided to ask the question he’d been refraining from asking all night: “Bakugo, are you oka—”
“I didn’t want this!” Heads turned.
Tokoyami was on the floor, gripping his head so tightly that his plumage was ruffled. Tsuyu was bent over him. When he spoke again, a second, deeper voice masked his own: “I didn’t want to be here! Why are you making me?!”
A black mass with red eyes exploded from him and shot upward, breaking the remaining lights (and disco ball) overhead. Then it began to spread, expanding on the ceiling like a large sheet.
“We have to—” Shouto said, his voice tight as he began hauling Bakugo toward the stage.
“Why couldn’t all of you just leave me alone?!” Tokoyami sobbed. The shape of his body was morphing as it was engulfed in the same blackness he had emitted.
“Control it, Tokoyami! Control Dark Shadow. Please. You’re scaring us,” pleaded Mina beside him. Tokoyami gave a shuddering gasp, and then more dark tendrils exploded from him.
People began screaming and running for the main entrance. Tsuyu and Mina, too, soon gave up and fled, as did everyone else on the dance floor. Dark Shadow was mutating, larger than Shouto had ever seen it.
“The lights—!” Tokoyami’s voice was drowned out by the monster’s rumbling as he was completely swallowed in his own quirk.
“Bakugo,” Shouto said, shaking him. Bakugo blinked profusely, looking completely unaware of what was happening. “We need fire!” He was already conjuring his own, but against the creature that now spanned the entire gym, it was useless. They needed more.
“Bakugo, fire,” Shouto repeated, and while Bakugo finally recognized the threat, he could only make small crackles with his palm, and his hand was shaking so violently it was a miracle he could hold it up. Shadows were cascading around them, as Dark Shadow’s open beak descended upon hapless students with a roar. “Fire!”
“I—I can’t,” Bakugo admitted, but with a final effort his palm lit up.
And the resulting explosion flew straight into one of the trees.
“Why can’t… I…” Bakugo slurred, and fell limp in Shouto’s arms. The fire had quickly jumped from tree to tree and was now spreading rapidly from ceiling to floor. It caused Dark Shadow to shriek and wilt away, but the flame evolved into an uncontrollable inferno as it tore through the paper forest and burned everything in its wake.
Shouto stumbled, sending both their bodies to the floor in a tangled heap. He looked down, stunned, at Bakugo out cold underneath him. What happened to him? Shouto pressed his palm against Bakugo’s forehead, and let it trail down to his lips. His skin was uncharacteristically dry, and he was breathing, but barely.
Shouto’s hand trailed down the long column of Bakugo’s neck. He had a pulse. Shouto tried to feel relieved, but an intrusive thought was screaming at him, alerting him to the unnecessary fact that Bakugo’s neck was exposed, just like it had been earlier with Kirishima. He willed himself to ignore that detail because now was not the time, and he gathered up the unconscious figure in his arms.
The fire was too widespread. Kendou struggled to stamp out fires with her enlarged hands. Yaoyorozu was pulling fire extinguishers out of her back but there weren’t enough. Any sort of frost he made would evaporate too quickly to be useful. Gamma Gym was a lost cause.
With gritted teeth, Shouto sprinted toward the fire exit.
Most people had thankfully made it out early, having left after Tokoyami’s initial outburst. Shouto had to make his way around the building until he reached the front, where teachers were doing head counts of students.
Midoriya emerged from one of the groups. “Kacchan!” He screamed, and immediately ran over.
“What happened to him?”
“I don’t know,” Shouto said, breathing sharply. “He fainted. He’s felt cold to the touch since earlier.”
“Lay him down here,” Aizawa ordered, and proceeded to wave Recovery Girl over. Shouto did as he was told. Midoriya already had his knees planted on the grass, and cradled Bakugo’s head in his lap.
Recovery Girl studied Bakugo for a moment, her small hands touching the exposed skin of his hands, neck and face, before checking his eyes with a pen light. She made a tutting noise and rounded on them. “The boy collapsed from dehydration. How did all of you fail to notice that he hasn’t been perspiring?”
“Dehydration?” Shouto repeated. And suddenly felt very, very stupid. The signs had all been there; he’d even held Bakugo’s dry hands in his own. He dropped his gaze to the ground in shame, mentally kicking himself for not putting two and two together sooner.
Recovery Girl tapped her cane in annoyance. “Some idiot student transfigured all the refreshments into alcohol, which certainly didn’t help matters. And this boy obviously lives a very active lifestyle.” Midoriya made an odd sound, muffled by his hand over his own mouth. “Couple that with the stressful events of tonight and you have a recipe for disaster.”
“Bakugo!” They were joined too by Kirishima, who looked like he’d just run a marathon. “Is he okay? I’ve been looking all over…” When he heard Recovery Girl’s explanation, he broke into a sob.
“He was sweating much more than usual today. I—I should’ve told him not to come. This is all my fault.”
“He will be fine,” Recovery Girl said. “Would you like to help me bring him to the infirmary? We can hook him up to an IV set there.”
Kirishima nodded, picking up Bakugo’s prone form with ease. “Oh, and thanks for taking care of him, Midoriya.”
“Actually, it was—” Midoriya started to say, but Kirishima was already jogging off. When he was faced with Midoriya’s guilty look, Shouto merely shrugged.
They joined the rest of 1-A as the only group that stayed to watch pro-hero Backdraft at work. With his dual hoses, he was able to extinguish the flames still visible from the high windows of Gamma Gym. The rest of the UA seemed content to resume the parties in their respective dorm buildings. Monoma was being dragged away by 1-B, although even from far away his tantrum was audible: “It was them! They did this!”
Shame loomed over all of them as they stood together, until Tokoyami broke the silence.
“I let Dark Shadow use my insecurities to his advantage,” he said, lowering his beak. “I’m so sorry, everyone. This is all my fault.”
“Actually, it was our faults.” Uraraka confessed tearfully. “We didn’t mean to make you feel bad, Tokoyami, we just thought – well, we thought we’d give you and Tsuyu a push, hoping you would end up together.”
“You rigged it?” Iida said, aghast.
“We thought it would be sweet and ro-romantic,” Uraraka said, crying. “The real winners were Yaomomo and Monoma, who’d paid a lot of people to vote for him…”
“Why did you put my name and Bakugo’s in too, then?” Shouto asked.
“Huh?” She said, wiping her eyes. “We didn’t touch the King and Queen ballots. Those were for third year students. We were just as confused as you were when Present Mic said your names!”
Irritation clawed a hole through his stoicism. Shouto let out a huff and stared at the moonlit sky, pointedly ignored the concerned look Midoriya directed at him. What a horrible end to a horrible night.
It hadn’t escaped his notice how all the couples had arms wrapped around each other, whereas he and Midoriya stood a meter apart like strangers. And Bakugo’s sweet scent still clung to him from the close contact they’d had. He could smell it right under his nose. Fantastic.
“Has anyone seen Ojiro?” Hagakure piped up, making everyone jump as they didn’t realize she was there all along.
“I think I saw him heading out with 1-B,” Sero said.
“What?!”
“Everyone back to the dorms,” Aizawa interrupted, shooing them off. “Except for Todoroki and Tokoyami. The police want to hear your statements.”
“Police?” He groaned. As if things weren’t bad enough, he had never got along particularly well with law enforcement. Aizawa noticed the shared look between him and Tokoyami and sighed.
“You think this is the first time the gym’s burned down during an event? Please. Don’t worry, you’re not in any trouble.” He began leading them to one of the empty classrooms. “They just want to know what happened.”
Still: how could he explain that Bakugo had accidentally set the place on fire?
Tokoyami waited outside the classroom while the officer, who looked to be in his 20s and far too young to be doing this job, interviewed Shouto. He lied through his teeth, claimed that the darkness was so overwhelming that both he and Bakugo had no choice but to produce maximum firepower. The man didn’t seem to care, though, apparently used to such antics at UA. He outright admitted that since it was UA property, caused by UA students, and the insurance checked out, it pretty much wasn’t their problem.
Then why did they even bother interviewing him? Shouto had to bite his lip to prevent himself from voicing that comment.
“We’ll have to call in your boyfriend to make a statement as well, when he’s conscious. Just for the record,” explained the officer.
“My boyf— Bakugo? He’s not my boyfriend,” Shouto snapped.
“Oh. Well, I just assumed because of these.”
A bunch of pictures slid across the desk. Shouto looked down, at a loss for words. They were prints of him and Bakugo dancing, barely an hour earlier, Bakugo in his stupid white suit, his face hidden in Shouto’s neck. Admittedly, they did look like boyfriends based on the obvious intimacy displayed in the image. And that vexed him even more.
“Whatever you call it, then. Fuckbuddy? Friends with benefits? Fuckboys?” He grinned with the air of someone desperate to seem relatable. Shouto stared. What the hell was up with this guy?!
“You can give this back to him, then. I found it outside the building and thought it’d be useful, but the boss says we don’t really need it as evidence.” He passed Shouto a clear ziplock bag with the plastic tiara in it. And with that, the ridiculousness of the whole situation finally sunk in, and Shouto was now very much aware that he was sitting there still wearing his crown and sash emblazoned with ‘PROM KING’ in huge, sparkly letters.
He snatched the bag and made a quick exit, embarrassed. Not bothering to wait for Tokoyami, he trudged back to Heights Alliance alone, looking stupid with all his prom regalia, and still smelling like Bakugo.
There was no way it had been a fair vote. Or else the whole world was conspiring to pair him with Bakugo, which was downright annoying. While he considered Bakugo a friend, he had chosen Midoriya and it chipped away at him, how no one – not even their classmates, or random policemen, or fate, or Midoriya – seemed to respect that choice.
Speak of the devil. His boyfriend was standing outside Heights Alliance waiting for him. He was already in his sleeping attire, and essentially that served as another dagger in the heart, a marker that Prom was officially over.
And it had sucked.
“Look. I understand if you want to break up with me,” Shouto said, speaking very fast. He tried to walk past Midoriya, who grabbed a hold of his arm. “I’ve clearly been doing a crappy job at this. I don’t know what I’m even supposed to— and despite my best efforts, it’s obviously been driving you away. Since you don’t seem to want to spend any time together, I just—”
He froze, falling silent as Midoriya’s arms curled around him from behind.
“It’s my fault, Todoroki." He said, sounding miserable. "Everyone’s been on edge about their relationships and I’ve been… Feeling the same way, too. I guess I’m not exactly experienced in this either, and it’s been hard figuring out how to be a hero, a student, a friend and a boyfriend all at the same time. I’m sorry. I’ll be better.”
Shouto felt Midoriya inhale sharply. He continued hugging Shouto, despite his shaking arms.
“I took so long outside because Uraraka said… Well… She confessed that she’d liked me. So things have been really confusing for her and she looked so sad and I just couldn’t leave her alone. It wasn’t fair to you and I’m sorry.”
Shouto waited for his own breathing to settle. Hearing the squeaks in Midoriya’s voice, he could tell the other male was tearing up. Great, so now he’d make his own prom date cry too. Unbelievable.
“You were right,” he said. In his rush to change the subject, he blurted out the first thing he had thought of. “About Bakugo and Kirishima. I saw them.”
“You… What?”
“I found them by accident while I was looking for you.” Deku’s grip on him tightened.
“What were they doing?”
“They were— I’m not sure, I didn’t get a good look and immediately left. But their faces were close.”
“Did Kacchan seem happy?” Shouto paused. He had no idea how to answer that.
“I don’t know. He seemed really out of it the whole night.”
Midoriya sighed, loosening his arms. Shouto turned around and felt another stab of guilt as he saw his red-rimmed eyes.
“Maybe we should stop comparing ourselves to other couples,” Shouto said. “As long as we like being around each other… That’s what matters, right?”
“Yeah,” Midoriya said, and he leaned over, his lips bumping lightly against Shouto’s cheek. “You’re right.” He held out his hand, and with a tentative smile, Shouto took it.
--
Between Tokoyami’s freakout, the fire, the rigged voting, and a series of in-couple fights that he only learned of the next day, Shouto took some solace in the fact that prom had been a miserable affair for everyone. Sero was walking around with a sort of waddle and refused to say why. Jirou and Kaminari had evidently got into an argument and weren’t speaking. Amidst all of the conflicts wrought by that one night, Shouto and Bakugo ending up Prom King and Queen was practically a non-event in comparison.
The one who ended up bearing the brunt of bad treatment, surprisingly enough, was Ojiro, who had apparently spent the night at 1-B. A schism had developed between the girls and boys after that. The girls refused to speak to him; the boys, wary but sympathetic. Ojiro, who had been well-liked by everyone and highly-respected until a day ago, became a pariah overnight.
“Do you know how hard it is to carry a conversation with your girlfriend when you’re not even sure if she’s still in the room?” He overheard Ojiro whining to Sato before class.
The level of investment that people had in others’ relationships, was, quite frankly, terrifying.
With the Gamma Gym temporarily out of commission, combat training was relegated to the courtyard, where blue mats had been laid out on the ground. Everyone failed to hide their visible disappointment when Aizawa divided them into two groups, and said they would be grappling each other without quirks.
“You have no right to be upset,” he said gruffly. “The school might not consider you liable for the incident, but all of you showed a remarkable lack of self-control and intuition that night. Every. Single. One of you. Except Shouji and Kouda, who will be exempted from this exercise.”
Shouto would never admit it, but he found that fair. Part of him blamed himself for convincing Bakugo to produce fire, despite sensing he wasn’t in his right mind. Whereas the prom committee had committed fraud. Shouji and Kouda were the two 1-A students who hadn’t attended prom, hence the exemption. And everyone else? Aizawa had probably expected them to help Tokoyami when he lost control. But they hadn’t.
They were divided into two groups, each one forming a line on opposite ends of the mat. Their opponent would be random. The girls went first. At least Uraraka was acting like her usual bubbly self this time around, as she wrestled Jirou to the mat with ease.
“Finally,” she said, blushing as they applauded her. “Something I have experience in! Gunhead martial arts!” She struck a pose, while Jirou walked away and ignored Kaminari’s attempt to comfort her.
Few people cheered Ojiro on even as he managed an impressive tackle with which he pinned Iida. He slinked away afterward, the tip of his tail drooping like a wilted flower.
Shouto should have been shocked, but he wasn’t, when it was his turn and Bakugo was across him. He’d already accepted that this was all some cosmic joke.
“Ooh, the royal couple,” Mina sing-songed.
“Careful, Midoriya,” Sero cackled. “Bakugo’s about to steal your man! Again!”
“Don’t hold back,” Bakugo told Shouto, ignoring everyone else as he glared at him.
“Of course,” Shouto shot back. His nails were digging into his palms. “A King always respects the wishes of his Queen.”
Ignoring the sniggers of their classmates, Bakugo swore and launched himself forward.
Shouto was no great shakes at hand-to-hand combat. But seeing Bakugo like this, and being on the receiving end of his touches once again, was like reliving prom night. And that was enough for anger to flare up within him at the mere recollection of it. It didn’t help that even his dorm room had somehow absorbed Bakugo’s cotton candy scent. Would the painful reminders ever end? At this point, Bakugo constantly being thrust into his life was the equivalent pouring salt in an open wound.
“You better not faint this time,” he mocked, dodging Bakugo’s attempts to grab him.
“You fucker—” It was so unlike Shouto to trash-talk, and far beneath him to take his prom-induced rage out on Bakugo. But he couldn’t deny that doing so served as a great catharsis. He was so, so tired of them being forced together.
Bakugo, evidently rattled by his comments, slipped up and Shouto managed to trip him and slam him to the ground, trapping his wrists over his head. A small voice in his head asked him why he kept ending up on top of Bakugo. He tried to ignore it, but—
The blond tilted his head back, exposing his neck and Shouto was startled, something clenching in his chest. His grip momentarily loosened and that’s all it took for Bakugo to retaliate. A few seconds later, he found himself face-first against the mat, hands twisted behind him and Bakugo breathing against his nape.
“Half-assed as usual. Pathetic piece of shit.”
Bakugo quickly released him and walked away. Shouto lay there, dumbfounded.
Aizawa pulled them aside after class. For a moment Shouto thought he was going to get in trouble for his mouth. To his surprise, though, Aizawa asked him to escort Bakugo to his police interview. Shouto wanted to refuse, betrayed that even Aizawa was apart of some weird conspiracy to have him spend as much time with Bakugo and as little time with Midoriya as possible. Instead, he found himself nodding wordlessly.
As predicted, Bakugo had been unhelpful.
“I already told you, I don’t remember shit. I had to dance with this fucker—” he jerked his thumb toward Shouto. “And then Birdbrain went all Cthulhu on us and next thing I know I was in a hospital bed.” The police officer thanked them for their time. The knowing smirk he wore as they stood to leave the room only served to enrage Shouto further.
The walk back to the dorms was charged with silent tension. In hindsight, Shouto had no idea why he’d suddenly decided to break it.
“So… All in all, did you enjoy prom?”
Bakugo let out a humorless laugh. “Fuck no. Had to spend most of it with you, didn’t I?”
“It wasn’t all great for me either,” he found himself ranting back. It felt strangely good to finally say what was on his mind. “I was just trying to have a good time with Midoriya, you know. We were supposed to dance, and maybe even kiss—”
Bakugo made a gagging sound. “Spare me the details.” But then, a moment later: “Bet he’s a horrible kisser.”
“Not always.”
“’Not always’? Holy shit, why are you dating this loser again?”
“That’s not fair, Bakugo,” he replied, temper flaring again. They had stopped, with the dorm building a short distance away. “Midoriya is a good person—“
“A good person?” Bakugo’s eyes narrowed into slits, his mouth twisted into a murderous, teeth-baring grin. He looked like a shark that had suddenly tasted blood in the water. “That’s the reason you’d date someone? Because they’re a good person? Who was your second choice, then? The freakin’ pope?”
“What’s your reason for choosing Kirishima then?” He shot back. At first, he regretted doing so. He hadn’t meant to bring up something so private. But Bakugo didn’t react the way he’d expected. Rather than deny it, he walked up to Shouto and jabbed a finger in his chest.
“Kirishima and I have what you call ‘chemistry’. And he’s an amazing fuck.” Shouto fought hard not to blush. He already knew too much about what exactly they did when they were alone, but no way could he let that show.
“Midoriya and I also have chemistry.”
“Yeah, about as much chemistry as an earthworm and table salt.”
“Chemistry is subjective.”
“Pal, even you just admitted that you don’t like kissing him. Your own fucking boyfriend.”
“It’s not like I have any other kissing experience to compare it to. But I enjoy it, and that’s what matters!” He hurriedly added. “And I’m sure, if Midoriya and I practiced enough, things would get bette—”
His first thought was that Bakugo’s lips tasted sweet, so sweet they made him want to take back everything he’d said about hating Bakugo’s innate caramel scent.
His second thought was “Why have Midoriya and I never kissed like this?”
And then Bakugo’s tongue shoved into his mouth and he thought no more.
All he could do was feel. He shivered at the tongue that brushed against his. He couldn’t suppress the moan as both heat and frost erupted from within his throat and mixed with the hum of pleasure Bakugo let out. Bakugo could probably feel his quirk emerging, and based on the way he deepened the kiss, with a hand warm on Shouto’s nape, he sure as hell liked it.
Bakugo drew back, their lips separating with a loud smack. Shouto was breathing hard, and so was Bakugo, and he noticed the steam leaving Bakugo’s lips. He lifted his hand and touched his own; he was probably letting out steam as well.
Shouto stared, unable to speak. He probably looked stupid to Bakugo, all dazed and disheveled, hair messy with his bag strap askew. His nape was prickling.
“How’s that for chemistry?” Bakugo said, and blew out another cloud of steam, as if he’d just been puffing on a cigarette, and Shouto didn’t understand why he was feeling so hot all of a sudden. He hated smokers and he didn’t like Bakugo that way. So why…?
Bakugo’s smirk was directed at something, no— someone behind Shouto — who was running up to them, judging from the pitter-patter of sneakers hitting asphalt.
But before Shouto could whirl around and see who it was, Bakugo stepped closer and did a motion with his hand – the same one Camie did whenever she used her quirk – and all Shouto could think was did he just blow a flying kiss at me before another cloud of steam hit him in the face, straight from Bakugo’s lips.
“Deal with that, nerd,” Bakugo said with a maniacal laugh as he stalked off. And Shouto’s brain nearly exploded out of his skull, because that meant Midoriya was—
He turned and Midoriya was there, gaping at the spot Bakugo had just left.
“Todoroki,” he said, eyes wide. “What was—”
“Not here,” Shouto responded, gaze flitting around searching for onlookers. His lips were still tingling as they walked in silence back to their dorm building.
The moment they reached Midoriya’s room, he immediately rounded on Shouto.
“Todoroki, why did I see you and Kacchan kissing?” he asked, his voice shaky.
“He said you and I have no chemistry,” he mumbled.
“Do you believe him?”
“Do you?”
“Of course not!”
“Do we have it, then?” Shouto asked.
“Have what?”
“Chemistry!” He exclaimed, much louder than he had meant to.
“You’re acting weird,” Midoriya said, sighing. “Don’t listen to what Kacchan says, he’s just trying to rile us up.”
Shouto grabbed him by the arm and coaxed him toward the bed. “Hey, what—” Midoriya started to say.
“I want to try something.” Shouto placed a hand on Midoriya’s chest, urging him lie down flat. Midoriya looked wary but did so. Shouto then climbed over him, bracketing Midoriya’s arms with his hands as he peered down at the green eyes that stared back, filled with confusion.
“What is it, Todoroki?”
They remained in that position for a few seconds until Shouto withdrew.
“Nothing. I have to go.” He left. Irritation was thrumming in him, and he didn't know why.
Too bad being in his own room gave him no semblance of comfort. If anything, it worsened his exasperation, because it still smelled like Bakugo despite all the sprays he’d bombarded it with. Pacing back and forth, it took a while for him to come up with a way to solve his problem, but when he finally did, he all but ran to his closet and ripped out the suit he’d worn to prom.
It smelled like marshmallows, and he decided he now hated that odor. It reeked. His suit was permanently tainted.
What was the point of keeping it, as it was nothing but a crappy reminder of an even crappier night? A memento of what he thought would be an earth-shattering event, only for it to end up being one of the most uncomfortable experiences of his life?
Shouto didn’t hesitate. He folded his suit, let it dangle from a hanger as he held it high. Then he moved his hand under the cloth, palm up, and lit it on fire. He relished watching it burn. The caramel scent intensified, before being overtaken by the smell of ash.
Then it was gone.
His room was normal again.
Good.
He’d never been fond of sweets anyway.
Notes:
This chapter ended up much, MUCH longer than I expected. I hope you enjoyed it anyway! I always appreciate your lovely comments and rest assured I have read every single one of them, so thank you very much for those.
Here's a bunch of tidbits that some might find entertaining:
-If your proms were as crappy and awkward as mine then I hope the chapter resonated with you.
-There are two references to events in drama CDs in this chapter: one is Todoroki referring to having bumped into Kirishima and Bakugo in an arcade. The other refers to a really funny one where a villain sticks Todoroki and Bakugo (literally) together. I recommend giving it a listen.
-Feel free to imagine what 80s song played when Todo and Baku first danced. I personally thought of "Time After Time" because I wanted the most overused song possible.
-I was so torn on who to crown during prom. Initially, Uraraka was going to be one of them. I also contemplated crowning 1-B characters instead. I was actually hesitant to include Bakugo because he's already been suffering a lot, but the jokes wrote themselves and in the end I'm afraid I couldn't resist.We're back to Deku next chapter! Be afraid. Be very afraid.
Chapter 4: Deku Goes The Distance
Summary:
Deku's the best and he knows it. And he'll make damn well sure that Kacchan knows it, too.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
After confirming in the Class 1-A group chat that yes, he did survive his encounter with Kacchan, he received a private message from Jirou with an invite to hang out at the mall during the weekend. Sure, he sent back.
He arrived expecting a much larger turnout, only to be greeted by Jirou, Kaminari, Ojiro, Hagakure and Sero.
“Where’s Todoroki?” Jirou asked immediately. Deku blanched. How was he supposed to know?
“At home, I think?”
“What?! Did you have a fight or something? You were supposed to bring him!”
They were all giving him the same expectant look, leaving Deku to wonder if there was some sort of joke that he was missing. “I… I was?”
“Yeah!” Hagakure affirmed with a wave of her gloves. “This was a double date! Well… Quadruple date. Once Mina gets here anyway, and hopefully says yes to Sero asking her out.”
He felt a throbbing in his head at having been left out of the loop. Is that what couples did? Hang out together with other couples, and try to create other couples? It seemed awfully shallow, but then again, who was Deku to judge?
Now that he was here, though, he had no choice but to participate in their cupid plot. By the the next hour, he had learned too much about his classmates, more details than he ever cared to know: such as that Ojiro and Hagakure had a very active sex life, and Kaminari flirted too much with other girls (which Jirou confessed only to him for some reason, while Kaminari was in the restroom).
They went around the mall while waiting for Mina’s arrival, and the group spent most of their time peppering him with weirdly invasive questions ranging from what they liked doing during dates, and whether they had met each other's parents yet to how far he and Todoroki had gone (!!!). It only made him realize he hadn’t gone on a single date with Todoroki, unless combat training and study sessions counted as dates.
Did Kirishima and Kacchan go on dates? There was a hot flare of jealousy as he considered the thought. Were they on one right now? Cozying up in a restaurant, maybe? Is that why they kept their whole thing a secret, so they could enjoy their privacy rather than get dragged around the mall, trying to out-couple other couples?
“So, Sero, you excited?” Kaminari nudged his friend as they sat at the food court. Deku sipped at his soda with disinterest. There was a comic book store somewhere here, maybe he could duck out and visit it… And then sneak home…
“I, well…” Sero, for once, looked nervous. “Hopefully today will work out, yeah? I actually asked Kirishima if this was okay because he and Mina always seemed close. He just laughed and told me to go for it.”
“Hey, who do you think Kirishima’s into?” Exhausted by their inane rambling about relationships, Deku’s focus only returned when he’d heard Kirishima’s name. He tried to look as blank as possible, praying that his expression wouldn’t betray his thoughts.
“Someone manly, no doubt,” Kaminari joked. “Though Mina would’ve been my first bet, too.” Deku couldn’t help himself.
“Do you guys think Kacchan’s dating anyone?” His question was met with a chorus of laughter.
Kaminari was spitting out bits of French fries from laughing so hard. “Bakugo never loses. Ergo, he will never lose… His virginity!” Deku had never heard Ojiro snort like that before.
Sero, on the other hand, looked contemplative. “I always thought, somewhere down the line, that the only person who could handle him and his temper is someone extremely chill, like… Someone who just does not give a shit.” How wrong you are, Deku thought, squeezing his soda can harder than he meant to.
“Do you think what Yaomomo said is true, though…” Jirou was playing with her earjacks, a tendency of hers whenever a topic made her nervous.
With a renewed burst of laughter, Kaminari ended up slamming his cup too hard on the table. Its contents spilled all over Jirou’s food and she began scolding him in earnest. “Who cares how well-lubed Bakugo’s ass is if he won’t let anyone touch him with a ten-foot pole?”
They soon abandoned the subject and shifted the discussion to the romantic potential of Iida and Uraraka. It made for such a bizarre image that Deku was left gaping at them in horror instead of contributing.
He knew the two well enough to say that they would be absolutely awful together – how could they not take into account the fact that Uraraka always ended up having a giggle-fit whenever Iida tried to be serious? The concept of them dating was downright ridiculous. But then again, he realized, maybe people thought the same about him and Todoroki…
Mina soon arrived, and Deku could only follow the rest’s lead by pretending they all (except Sero) suddenly had to go. As concerned as he was about how manipulative his classmates were becoming, he was more thankful about being free to return home.
As he waved goodbye to a confused Mina and a sly-looking Sero, he wondered again if Kacchan and Kirishima were together right now. The idea did not sit well with him at all. It felt wrong, considering what he and Kacchan had done… He got a crazy urge to maybe… Remind Kacchan of his existence. To let him know that he was still thinking about that night.
Deku pulled out his phone and started typing with wobbly fingers:
Kacchan
I can’t stop thinking about it,
I want to do it again.
Just so you know, I went up to 5% that night.
I think you can take more.
See you at UA.
It was immediately Seen. No reply, though.
His grip on his phone tightened, knuckles paling. Was Kacchan with Kirishima at this very moment? But surely, if they were… Doing it… Kacchan wouldn’t have time to even check his phone, right?
Deku stopped mid-step, and fought to get his own breathing back under control. He was being silly. Whenever it came to Kacchan, all rational thought tended to fly out the window and he was fully aware of that. What he needed was a… Distraction.
Todoroki’s face popped up in his head. They had been walking on eggshells around each other since their botched sex attempt, and he figured he should be the one to extend the olive branch.
He began crafting a text to Todoroki, asking how his boyfriend was doing.
--
Kacchan was straight-up ignoring him.
Since their return to school his new go-to was to pretend Deku didn’t exist, avoiding eye contact as much as possible and leaving the common area whenever they sensed each other’s presence.
Imagine Deku’s surprise, though, when he arrived at All Might’s meeting to see that the blond was in the room, huddled on the other end of the couch and looking strangely small as a result. He didn’t acknowledge Deku’s arrival, red eyes staring determinedly straight ahead.
I had sex with Kacchan was the one sentence that kept playing on loop in Deku’s mind. It was the only thought that could make him feel elated, guilty and terrified all at once. He watched All Might, dazed, as their teacher continued to lecture, oblivious to the dewy tension between his students.
I had sex with Kacchan, and he’s currently three feet away from me, pretending we’ve never so much as touched.
He expected to be annoyed about it, but instead ended up fascinated by Kacchan’s attempts to maximize the space between them as much as possible. He was being uncharacteristically silent, too. It was… Cute.
Turns out Kacchan was a whole lot less scary once you’d had your dick in him.
“…-riya?”
“Sorry, what was that?” Deku asked, snapping back to reality.
“I was asking how your progress with Black Whip has been going,” All Might said.
“I can control it for the most part,” he replied. “It’s only when I feel very strong emotions that it becomes unstable.”
“Very good.” All Might nodded with an approving smile. Deku registered the tutting noise Kacchan made – finally, Kacchan had acknowledged him (albeit indirectly)! “That’s all I wanted to discuss for today. Oh, but I just remembered that prom is fast approaching and I hear you’re going with a certain Todoroki Shouto. A fine choice.”
“Thank you, All Might!” He said, bowing his head. It was all he could think to say.
“It’s always a joy to witness students making the most out of their high school experience. Enjoy youth while you can, eh? And you, young Bakugo, are you taking anyone?”
“What are you, my agony aunt now or something?” Kacchan shot back furiously. “Keep your nose out of my damn business, All Might!”
“I will respect your privacy, then.” The pro-hero mustered an emaciated grin as he turned back to Deku. “Young Midoriya… While we are here, I wanted to let you know that if you need advice regarding the usage of your quirk during intimate moments…” With a smile now half-way to becoming a grimace, he soldiered on.
“Obviously, I have a lot of personal experience that might come in handy, so you may speak to me whenever you like. I learned the hard way about needing to pick my partners carefully, since… Not everyone will be as accommodating of that sheer amount of, ah, strength.”
Deku’s insides turned molten. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Kacchan’s sharp intake of breath. The blond was visibly squirming.
“Fuck!” Kacchan burst out. “Don’t make me picture that shit! Why did you even call me here if you were just gonna waste my time?” Only Kacchan could sling his bag over his shoulder in a manner that violent. He proceeded to launch himself off the sofa and leave the room, muttering angrily.
“I guess I better go,” Deku said quickly. All Might nodded in understanding.
“Please apologize to young Bakugo on my behalf. I didn’t realize the topic would make him so uncomfortable.”
“…Uh-huh,” he squeaked, mouth contorted into a painful smile. Should he tell All Might about what he’d done with Kacchan? He immediately thought better of it. The last thing he wanted to do was kill his mentor with a heart attack.
“Oh, and by the way…” All Might rummaged through his pockets to pull out a set of keys, which he dropped into Deku’s hand. “I’ll be visiting David and Melissa for a while. Feel free to use my office if you wish. I’m entrusting it only to you while I’m gone.” Deku peered at the keys (hooked to a Silver Age All Might keychain), with equal parts wonder and confusion. What could he possibly want to use the room for?
Deku settled for thanking All Might profusely and asked him to give Melissa his regards, before leaving his office. To his elation, Kacchan’s retreating back was still visible in the long hallway, though it was shrinking as he drew further away. Deku jogged after him.
“Kacchan!”
Predictably, the blond sped up his pace. Deku broke into a sprint, grabbing the other’s arm when he reached him, but Kacchan shook him off.
“Get the hell away from me, nerd,” he snarled, before disappearing around the corner.
It was the first sentence he’d said to Deku since they’d slept together.
Deku sighed, his mouth settling into a determined line. Desperate times called for underhanded measures.
--
His suit was ill-fitting and overly-warm, a sensation that he knew would intensify over the course of the night, since he’d dressed up much earlier than everyone else. In an hour, he would be taking Todoroki to prom.
But for now, he was headed for the fourth floor. Knowing he had thirty minutes to convince Kacchan to have sex with him again.
…Deku bet he could do it in five.
The first step was to get into Kacchan’s room. That was easy enough. All he had to do was say “Does Kirishima know about us?” loudly enough the moment Kacchan opened the door.
“There is no ‘us’.” His response had been curt, but his panicked look-around before pulling Deku into the room spoke volumes. Deku allowed himself a triumphant smirk – he was in Kacchan’s bedroom! – as he shut the door and locked it.
The blond turned his back on him, heading toward his mirror to fiddle with the tie around his neck. Damn right did he look good in that white suit, but knowing it had been Kirishima’s pick kind of ruined its splendor a little. “And if you ever text me shit like that again, I will personally castrate you.”
As much as he liked the thought of Kacchan handling his balls, Deku was aiming for something a little different tonight. He took a deep breath, and spoke, trying to sound as casual as possible.
“Kirishima and Todoroki both don’t have to know.”
It achieved its intended effect. Immediately, Kacchan was on him with a sneer, pinning him against the door by the lapels.
“Wipe that creepy smile off your face. Really can’t take a hint, can you? Have I not explicitly told you to fuck off about five times already?”
All the hints point to you wanting this to continue, though.
Deku’s hands curled around his wrists. It was telling that they were already so moist. Kacchan’s threats might’ve been effective had they not lacked their usual heat, his voice thick and strained.
“You’re the one who allowed me into your bedroom, Kacchan. You’re the one who hasn’t blown me up yet. You’re the one who’s trying to calculate how long we have ‘til Kirishima comes back from playing video games at Sero’s.” He saw the flash of recognition in Kacchan’s eyes, and started speaking faster.
“You’re not worried about this happening again, are you? But you are worried about getting caught. Which is understandable, because you care about him a lot. Enough to wear an uncomfortable suit in a color you hate. Enough to wear a tie.”
He tugged the offending piece of cloth from the blond’s neck and tossed it to the floor.
I would never force you to wear a tie, Kacchan.
Kacchan bared his teeth. “You’re here to threaten me, is that it? That you’ll – what – tell Kirishima? And expect him to believe you? Like anyone would ever believe you, nerd.”
“Maybe not me, but they’ll believe this.”
Deku pulled out his phone. The movement was followed by wide red eyes, as if he’d just whipped out a dangerous weapon. Kacchan, sharp as ever, must’ve known immediately what was about to happen. But Deku relished the satisfaction of saying it outright: “You see, sometimes for English class, I record Present Mic just to make sure I get the pronunciations down.”
He pressed the play button. Immediately, the sounds of their sex filled the room. Kacchan’s cheeks tinted pink, his brows knotting together in dismay. Past Bakugo’s broken cries of “Izuku!” were unmistakable. “I guess with everything going on that night, I accidentally opened the recording app, and, well…”
The truth was… Deku wasn’t actually planning on telling Kirishima anything.
But this was the only way for them to get what they both wanted. Because Kacchan wanted it, obviously: he could attempt to lie, but his quirk made it impossible to hide his arousal. There might as well have been a neon “FUCK ME” sign over his head, with an arrow pointing down at him.
Kacchan wanted him but would never actually say so. Because… Of Kirishima.
Which Deku had taken into account.
So with this recording, Kacchan could fool himself into believing he was cornered. After all, Kacchan thought in absolutes: in his head, cheating on Kirishima once was just as bad as cheating on him a thousand times over.
And since he was already guilty of the former, then… Deku just needed to secure his agreement to the latter.
Deku would release him from the burden of having to say ‘yes’ to more.
He would eagerly play the villain and spare Kacchan from the cognitive dissonance of betraying Kirishima repeatedly. By making the decision for Kacchan, Deku would erase all of his future sins by willingly taking all the blame in his stead. He threatened me, so I couldn’t stop— Kacchan could say if ever they were caught. If it came to it, he could insist that he had no choice. Claim plausible deniability and all that. He had an out.
And Deku knew he would never actually use it.
Which is why, when the blond’s face had screwed up in panic, Deku could see right past it and noticed thinly-veiled relief.
“What do you want from me?!” Kacchan blinked furiously as he said it. The tears had come in now, which meant that he was leaking profusely everywhere. Good.
“Just a repeat of that night. And then… And then I’ll leave you alone.”
He looked down in resignation. “…You’re insane.”
“Kacchan—” When Deku’s hands came up to hold his face, he didn’t move. “You’re trying so hard to hide it, but you can’t. I can smell it in the air, just how turned on you are. You’ve been soaking wet since I first walked in, haven’t you?”
He turned his head to avoid Deku’s attempt at a kiss, but did not push him away. “Just let me,” Deku murmured, tongue lapping at his neck instead. “One more time, please—”
Kacchan’s breath hitched. He started moving backwards, letting Deku follow… And then, Kacchan was pulling off his suit jacket. Deku imitated him, hypnotized as the other male collapsed back against the mattress, throwing an arm over his eyes.
It was a yes.
Deku unbuckled his belt and was on Kacchan in seconds, wrestling off his trousers. God, it was so nice to feel his smooth legs again—
“Wait, you idiot, just… Fucking wait a second!” Kacchan squawked, cringing away from him. Deku’s dick was already prodding at his hole when he suddenly twisted and tried to maneuver himself onto his stomach.
Deku tried not to think of the implications of it (he knew damn well Kacchan loved fucking Kirishima face-to-face), hoisting him on his knees and onto his cock, bottoming out in one go.
Kacchan let out an unexpectedly loud whine that, to Deku’s ears, may as well have been a cry of relief. Proof that he’d been gagging for it all along… Probably stayed up thinking about it at night like Deku had been…
“Eight percent.” The energy crackled around them as he tried not to blitz Kacchan’s insides too hard with One For All. Realizing that he didn’t want to sound like some weird sex robot constantly spouting numbers, he added, with a teasing lilt to his voice: “You remember what I told you to say?”
“Izuku, Izuku, Izuku, you fucking fuck— and you better not have your phone out—”
“No phone,” he said, and threw it on the floor to prove his point. Kacchan’s head turned slightly to watch it crack against the hardwood. Deku hissed as he felt the blond’s walls clenching around his dick, his hands finding their familiar place on Kacchan’s hips and tightening in return.
He felt them straightaway, Kirishima’s scratches marring Kacchan’s waist like tallies, and found himself wishing: if only he could squeeze the marks right off of Kacchan’s skin…
“Ahh, I missed this so much…” He really really had, had spent nights dreaming of Kacchan’s slick smearing all over his pelvis, his cock wrapped in that tight heat, his hair standing on end as the energy of his quirk rattled back and forth between their bodies. And now that he finally had it again, he couldn’t imagine ever letting go.
“Shut up, Izuku!”
“Bet you feel the same, Kacchan. You missed me filling you up, right?” He splayed a hand flat against Kacchan’s abdomen, checking if his dick could really reach that far. Kacchan whimpered and then came, which ended up the best answer he could’ve hoped for.
Their second time was a vast improvement from the first. Kacchan couldn’t stay still, now that he had more freedom of movement on a bed instead of the dingy bathroom floor. Oversensitive from his orgasm, several times his body came close to crumpling from the force of Deku’s thrusts, face pressed into the pillow as he sobbed and drooled into it. He was gripping the sheets so tightly that Deku half-expected them to catch fire.
It was a moment of triumph, getting to fuck Kacchan in his suit right before prom. Suddenly the outfit didn’t bother Deku so much anymore. He leaned forward, his hips flush against Kacchan’s, cock sliding back and forth into taut, dripping walls. Then he put all his weight on Kacchan and flattened him against the mattress, breathing against the back of his neck as he buried himself to the hilt and came.
He didn’t move, instead letting his body completely cover Kacchan’s for a few seconds to wait out the aftershocks of his orgasm. Everything was silent except for their in-tandem breathing, until Deku felt a restless push from the body underneath his.
“Ten percent,” Deku said proudly as he buttoned up his suit jacket. “Amazing. That’s a little less than half of my current limit. Thank you, Kacchan.”
“Mm… Just go already,” Kacchan replied, not even bothering to lift his head. He was still face-down on the bed, uncaring that the cloth of his shirt was damp and sticking to his back, while his ass and thighs were on full display. A track of bruises and stains led up to his waist. Deku picked up his phone, hesitating – he had to resist from taking a photo even though the view was so hot – and left.
Everything had gone as planned. Kacchan was definitely as hooked as he’d been when they’d first fucked. This was meant to be a reminder of that, and it worked.
When he said he’d leave Kacchan alone, it had been mostly true. He wouldn’t need to do the chasing anymore. Kacchan would come to him from now on.
Ten percent OFA. A little less than half of his limit.
Even his wording had been intentional.
Because Deku knew Kacchan, and Kacchan never left anything half-finished.
--
“What’s going on?” Deku plopped down on the couch beside Kirishima to watch the carnage in front of them. For whatever reason, fights had become a normal occurrence in the common area. The redhead himself looked like he ought to be munching popcorn as he surveyed their classmates with interest.
Sato squabbled with Kouda in one corner, though it could hardly be called a ‘squabble’ seeing as it was mostly one-sided, with Kouda cowering behind a chair as Sato brandished a white bag at him. Not too far from them, Mina was pointing fingers at Kaminari and Mineta, with Sero holding her back from pummeling them.
“I’m just saying, Kouda, is would it kill you to train him? That’s all I ask. That’s twice now that he’s gotten into my flour, aw—” Sato had been waving the bag as evidence, but its contents spilled out, creating a cloud of smoke.
“This is ridiculous,” Kaminari was yelling. “Why the hell should I do that, huh? She never had a problem with it before!”
“Because you weren’t dating then, dumbass!” Mina replied. “Show your girlfriend some respect! How dare you?”
“Easy, guys—” Sero’s placatory attempts were being ignored outright.
Mineta popped out from behind Kaminari. “Typical,” he scoffed. “The ol’ ball and chain tactic. See, Kaminari? This is why you never should’ve let yourself get tied down.”
“Mmm,” Kirishima hummed, turning to Deku. “Sato is mad at Kouda because Kouda’s rabbit keeps getting into his baking supplies. “Whereas this one,” he gestured at Mina, who was flailing her legs at Kaminari and Mineta despite Sero’s attempts to maintain a firm grip around her waist. “Is a bit more complicated. Apparently Kaminari went with Mineta to girl-watch, and Jirou was not okay with it.”
“So why’s it Mina who’s getting mad at Kaminari, not Jirou?”
“Dunno,” Kirishima shrugged. “You know, half the time Kaminari and Jirou aren’t talking to each other… They seem to get along worse now as boyfriend and girlfriend than they ever did as friends.”
“Stop!” Iida said, leaping between the two large men and spreading his arms out like a traffic controller. “Sato, you will cease this behavior at once and clean up this mess! There is no reason to yell at Kouda!”
“I’m not yelling,” Sato pointed out. “I’m just – talking to him, actually. There’s nothing wrong with—”
Mina shoved Sero off with a glare. “And you! You’re just defending him ‘cause he’s your friend!”
“Great, man. Thanks for taking me down with you,” Sero groaned to Kaminari as his girlfriend stomped off.
“What was I supposed to say? I can’t just stop being friends with Mineta just because Mina told me that Jirou wants me to! That’s fucked.”
“Bitches be crazy,” Mineta added.
“C’est terrible,” Aoyama said from the table, winking at no one in particular.
“Relationships, huh?” Kirishima said quietly. “Good thing you and Todoroki never fight.”
That’s because we hardly even talk, Deku thought wryly. As Kaminari and Sero bemoaned their relationship woes (and ignored Mineta’s unhelpful comments), Kirishima looked around for potential eavesdroppers before he spoke to Deku again, this time in a low voice. “Hey, uh, I wanted to ask you for advice.”
“Yeah?” Deku watched him. All traces of humor were gone from the redhead’s face.
“You said we could share notes so I’m finally taking you up on that offer. After all, we’re the only ones in class who share the same equipment, you know what I mean?”
It took Deku a ridiculous amount of time to figure out that ‘equipment’ was not, in fact, a euphemism for Kacchan, but a reference to the fact that they were all dudes.
“Yeah,” he said, hardly daring to breathe. “So what’s going on? About… About Kacchan?” Kirishima hesitated.
“How do you and Todoroki, you know… Make sure neither of you goes too far during quirk sex?”
“Well, we—” Deku’s mouth clamped shut. We don’t have sex. But he couldn’t tell Kirishima that now, could he? “…We limited ourselves to small things first to test the waters.” It was sort of true… Except that Todoroki wasn’t the other party involved, but it’s not like Kirishima would know…
“Small things?”
“Yeah, like… Very minor freezing and burning, you know? And I’d sometimes exert a little extra power.” With the influx of Kacchan-related images flooding into his mind, he was suddenly very thankful that Kirishima didn’t possess a mind-reading quirk. “But we still don’t try anything that could cause permanent damage.”
“So, 'minor', like when I use my teeth? Sometimes I’ve gotten overexcited and caused Bakugo to bleed—” Upon catching sight of Deku’s expression, he immediately balked. “But not like, to the extent of causing deep wounds or anything! Just minor ones, I swear!”
“Pretty much. Yeah, teeth are… Teeth are fine.” It hurt just to say it. Deku’s chest felt tight: a realization that he was now trapped in a conversation where he had to give Kirishima advice on how to fuck Kacchan better. Like hell!
The redhead’s eyes turned downcast. “But what if Bakugo isn’t happy with just that anymore? He wants more. He wants me to go all out.”
“Kirishima, that sounds really dangerous—”
“I know! And I keep telling him, but, you know… He’s kinky.”
It took a lot of effort to not return Kirishima’s smirk. Oh, don’t we both know it, he was dying to snark back.
“I scratched him badly once just by hardening my fingers, but he… He—” Kirishima went silent and stared down at his open hands. “Don’t you ever worry that you’ll hurt Todoroki?”
“Of course. That’s why we have a safe word.”
“Safe word? So you stop the moment he says it?”
“Er— Actually, it’s more of a ‘go word’, now that you think about it. Whenever he wants, well, more, he says my name – my first name.” Kirishima stared at him quizzically and he shrugged. “It’s, uh, hotter than it sounds.”
“But what word do you have for when he wants you to stop?” Deku thought for a moment and came up blank. The word ‘stop’ simply wasn’t in Kacchan’s vocabulary.
“Well, Todoroki’s not the type to want to stop—"
Their conversation broke off as they both looked guiltily toward the door. Kacchan had just entered, a towel slung over his shoulder. His eyes narrowed dangerously the moment he caught sight of the two of them on the couch.
“Oi, Kirishima,” he growled, approaching fast. “You’re behind on your History homework again, aren’t you? Come on.”
“Sure, man.” Kirishima got up to follow him to the stairs. But before he turned around, he waggled his eyebrows at Deku suggestively while mouthing ‘homework’.
“Don’t talk to that loser, you might catch his stupid,” Deku heard Kacchan mutter, to which Kirishima protested. At least he was defending Deku.
Not that it made him feel any better, but he appreciated the sentiment.
It sucked, though, having to see all the new bites decorating Kacchan’s shoulders the next time they had a round. He took solace in the fact that at least he could be as rough with Kacchan as he wanted while Kirishima could not, that he was the one making Kacchan happiest in bed.
With dark satisfaction he grabbed the blond by the nape, delighting in the breathless “Haaaaa—“ that tumbled from Kacchan’s lips as he amplified his power to twelve percent and went to town.
--
He had Kacchan bent over his desk, the blond’s well-knit body sliding moistly under his.
“You still think that was funny, Kacchan?” he snapped.
“No,” Kacchan replied, as he jerked backwards to meet Deku’s thrusts. “I think it’s hilarious, Izuku.”
“Why did you do it?”
“I figured someone has to—” Deku didn’t have to see his face to know he was sporting one of his wicked grins. He squeezed Kacchan’s hip and bottomed out, both of them groaning over the sound of rattling wood.
“You went too far. We agreed not to bring Todoroki or Kirishima into this…”
“Did you see,” Kacchan wheezed. “Did you see his fucking face— nggh,” Deku picked up the pace, savoring the effectiveness of his dick at getting Kacchan to instantly shut up.
“Don’t ever do that again! –Urk!”
Deku winced and had to step back, swearing loudly as pain shot up his dick. He had withdrawn completely, then tried to slam back into Kacchan’s ass and ended up missing his hole, only to bend his hardened length against one of Kacchan’s cheeks.
“Moron. Can’t even talk and fuck at the same time, can you?”
“Gimme a minute,” he choked, willing the pain to subside. He was still hard, but shit, it hurt a lot. Kacchan pushed himself off the desk and sank to the floor.
It took some getting used to, seeing Kacchan so comfortably naked all the time, and Deku wasn’t sure if his heart rate would ever adjust. Just studying Kacchan’s glistening body stretched out before him was enough to forget the pain temporarily. Kacchan’s hair was more tousled than usual and his length jutted skyward, unashamed. Despite his irritation earlier, he looked relaxed, waiting expectantly.
Deku’s dick was the only thing that could make him this patient, and he was damn proud of it.
“What’s between Kirishima and me is nothing like that farce you call a relationship with Icy Hot,” Kacchan said. His red eyes were sharp (and a bit watery) as he stared at the ceiling.
“Oh? And what exactly is between Kirishima and you? You don’t go on dates, you’re too scared to let people find out. You’re just… Friends who happen to fuck.”
Kacchan scoffed. Deku had joined him on the floor and was massaging his own aching length.
“Is that what you think a relationship is? Holding hands and wearing matching mouse ears at Disneyland? You’re as shallow as you are stupid, then. I’ve seen the way you and Icy Hot avoid each other when you think you’re alone. It’s pathetic. Kirishima and I don’t have to posture in public, that’s for weak shits.”
“What about between us, Kacchan?” Deku said loudly. The fact that Kacchan could sit here and lecture him on relationships with other people while they were having sex was infuriating. “What enlightening statement do you have to say about this – about me?”
The corners of Kacchan’s mouth twisted into a smirk. “I like the dick. I like the quirk. I don’t like the person they’re attached to, though.”
“You like my dick?” Deku asked, his heart soaring.
“Ugh. You’re such a freak…”
Kacchan lay on his side, reclining in a pose that Deku only saw in porn mags, head on hand, propped up on one elbow. He looked so effortlessly sexy doing it that Deku wanted to scream.
The question was out before he could stop himself. “Is mine bigger than Kirishima’s?”
“Hey, nerd…” Kacchan glared at him from beneath his lids. Deku shrunk back; he knew that look. “You’ve already broken the ‘no talking’ rule about a dozen times today, so let me remind you of another: Don’t. Fucking. Mention. His. Name. Got it? I don’t actually care about what you get up to with Icy Hot…”
“Me and Todoroki don’t have sex. We’ve never…” he made sure to look directly at Kacchan as he said it. “I am not interested in fucking Todoroki at all.”
“You are sick in the head.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know…” His dick was feeling a lot better – that, or it was his sudden desire to be inside Kacchan now, which made him overlook the pain. He crawled on his knees toward the other male, grabbing at his ankle.
“Turn over, I’m not done.” Kacchan made a questioning noise, but complied anyway. Deku folded his body over the blond’s and got to work.
Good Kacchan.
Later, he was on the floor again, spent, watching Kacchan in amazement. The other male was standing, doing his post-coital self-examination. It was a routine Deku never got tired of. Sometimes it made him want to have another go.
(He knew he could; OfA gave him non-existent refractory periods, but he figured he’d save that card for later so he could surprise Kacchan with it someday.)
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Kacchan muttered as he reached back and felt at his own hole. His expression was the perfect picture of disgust. “You come as much as a goddamn elephant.”
“T-Thank you,” Deku said.
“That wasn’t a compliment. Ugh.” White was dripping down both his thighs. As one of the streams reached down to his calf, he cursed and actually shook his leg like a dog, which Deku couldn’t help but find equal parts adorable and hilarious. He’d long since concluded that Kacchan’s lubrication made the come less viscuous, so it always gushed out really fast.
And boy did it make for a spectacularly hot image.
Deku reached his hand out to grab the other male’s foot, maybe ask him to stay a bit longer. But Kacchan evaded him while on his way to the heap of clothes on the chair.
Kacchan never stayed with him like how he stayed with Kirishima after sex, nestled in each other’s arms on a bed. He would leave immediately, and Deku would have to mop up the floor, breathing in the sweet scent that wafted through the room for hours even after Kacchan was gone.
He’d take what he could get.
--
“I’m so booooored,” Hagakure groaned. A block was dragged out of the wooden tower between them as if it had moved on its own, and slowly levitated top of the stack. “I actually miss being naked! At least then we’d be doing hero work.”
They were fully aware that Gamma Gym was still under construction, but this was getting ridiculous.
Deku chose a middle block on the third row, tapping it until it poked out enough on the other side. He risked a glance at Aizawa. Their teacher was observing from the edge of the courtyard as his twenty students sat on the ground playing Jenga in pairs. Under his orders.
It seemed nonsensical for Aizawa to have them doing something so inane, when there were a million other things they could be doing in an open space that would actually develop their hero skills. Was he still punishing them for prom? If so, this was a bit much.
Aizawa obviously wasn’t doing it just to be lazy, either, because strangely enough, he hadn’t crawled into a sleeping bag at any point throughout this session. Instead, he watched them like a hawk.
What was he trying to spot?
Hagakure let out a squeal as the tower toppled over. “Aw, now I have to find someone else.”
“How ‘bout Ojiro?” Deku suggested, and immediately regretted doing so when he felt invisible hands whacking him.
“I’m not playing with that cheating jerk!”
“Cheating? So he admitted it, then?” They had never really gotten confirmation apart from the girls giving Ojiro the cold shoulder, and Ojiro himself remained unusually tight-lipped about the matter.
“He spent a night at 1-B after prom and refused to tell me what happened! What do you think?”
She skipped off and Deku played with Todoroki next, and with how devoid of conversation their game was, you would’ve thought they were strangers.
To say their relationship had fizzled was an understatement. They were still dating, technically. They ate, studied and trained together often. But since prom, Todoroki had been subdued, not willing to discuss anything other than schoolwork. There was still the occasional cheek kiss, or arm touch, but all of it felt hollow. Induced on auto-pilot.
Deku was waiting – perhaps even looking forward to it – for the day Todoroki broke up with him. He wasn’t about to do it himself, though. For some reason, despite all he had done, to tell Todoroki to his face that he was ditching to him seemed unbearably cruel. What if it ruined their friendship?
So he was willing to wait for Todoroki to take the plunge, then he’d promise that it wouldn’t change anything.
“Oh,” Todoroki murmured. He had pulled too hard and all the blocks clattered to the ground.
“Sorry, Todoroki,” Deku said sincerely.
“It’s okay. Good game, Midoriya.” Todoroki patted him on the shoulder and went to play with Kaminari.
Deku sat there reassembling his tower when a shadow fell over him. He looked up and felt a surge of unexpected wrath when he saw Kirishima and his dumb toothy smile.
“Hi, Midoriya! Wanna play? Didn’t seem to last long with your boyfriend.”
“What?”
“Your game.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
Kirishima sat in front of him. No, he didn’t really want to play with Kirishima. He didn’t want to even talk to or see Kirishima either these days. Because the redhead had become very forward regarding his… Progress… With Kacchan as of late. It was bad enough seeing the evidence first-hand whenever he was with Kacchan.
Okay, and maybe it stung a little, that Kirishima had told him recently how Kacchan had come from him biting his chest, but whenever Deku so much as reached for that area, Kacchan would go livid.
(“Quit being grabby!”
“But you like it!”
“No I don’t, fuck off!”)
“Your move, Midoriya,” Kirishima reminded him. Deku apologized and grabbed a random block. He would end this quickly, before Kirishima veered into TMI-territory. It didn’t help that he could definitely feel Kacchan’s murderous gaze on both of them without even turning around. Figures that Kacchan hated it whenever Kirishima and Deku spent time together, yet the hypocrite went and kissed Todoroki just to piss him off.
Deku fumed at the memory. Kacchan did not like to be kissed. At least, not by Deku. Every time he had tried, he had been stopped with a sudden cheek turn, a headbutt, and on one occasion, Kacchan’s shoe shoved in his face.
But Kacchan definitely didn’t mind Kirishima’s shark teeth because the puffiness of his lips were an immediate sign that Kirishima had feasted on them too vigorously.
It was a struggle to keep resentment from showing on his face, as those sharp teeth a few feet away continued to mock him. He had to frequently remind himself that he liked Kirishima well enough. It’s just… He didn’t like Kirishima’s body parts being anywhere near Kacchan’s.
“So which position do you guys like best?” There he goes again.
“Oh, I, um, do it from behind…”
“Woah, didn’t peg Todoroki as being that kind of guy. We’re way different then, ‘cause Bakugo loves riding me,” Kirishima said with a wink.
I didn’t ask. Deku’s teeth ground together in frustration. He knew that already. The image had been burned into his mind, including the expression on Kacchan’s face that Deku was forbidden from seeing when they had sex. Hearing this was absolute torture, but the redhead prattled on: “How do you handle the burns, though? I can harden, but I imagine you—”
“Oops,” Deku said, purposely knocking a side-block too hard. The tower came down, and he apologized to Kirishima for being off his game. It was only after the redhead departed that he let out the breath he'd been holding.
Shouji was his next challenger. They played in complete silence, which was a relief. Until Shouji spoke.
“Midoriya. I just wanted you to know that at any given time, I am capable of having as many as eight ears.”
A confused grin formed on Deku’s face. “I know that, Shouji. Your quirk is amazing.”
Shouji paused before speaking again.
“…And my room is two doors down from Bakugo’s.”
Deku knocked over the tower.
Fuck.
“Er—”
“I won’t interfere,” Shouji said, face expressionless as always. “I won’t divulge anything to anyone. But for others’ sakes, I do hope you know what you’re doing.”
And as Deku sat there, silently freaking out, he overheard snippets of Uraraka and Kacchan’s game, their match becoming heated.
“Quit cheating, Round Cheeks!”
“I’m not cheating, Bakugo! I just have sensitive fingertips due to my quirk!”
“What the hell are you implying? My quirk’s also hand-based, you saying I can’t control my hands?!”
“Ughhh, no! Look what you did! Your screaming knocked over the tower, this is so unfair! Sir, Bakugo cheated!”
“That wasn’t me, you were the one touching it when it fell, you absent-minded—”
“Time’s up,” Aizawa drawled. “Next week, you are all to show up here wearing your gym uniforms again. Because we’ll be playing Twister.” The entire class groaned.
“But siiiiir!!!”
--
Kirishima was such a smug bastard.
Okay, he obviously wasn’t doing intentionally, but still. It was no secret that Kacchan afforded Kirishima special privileges in bed, while his laundry list of things Deku wasn’t allowed to do to probably stretched to a mile long.
So it was hard not to feel vindictive as he listened in on another session between Kacchan and Kirishima that ended poorly, contrary to the redhead’s endless crowing. The conversation was very similar to the first time he’d eavesdropped, too:
“Katsuki, why don’t you let me—”
“I said it’s fine. Just roll over and sleep already.”
“But it’s not fair for me to just leave you high and dry. Look, I wish I could last longer, I really do.”
“Maybe if you actually got hard the way I want you to, you’d last instead of just flapping your mouth.”
“We’ve been over this, Katsuki!”
Same old song and dance. Kirishima was too placid, Kacchan too demanding, Kirishima too quick, Kacchan left unsatisfied as Kirishima slept.
It had taken fifteen minutes in total. Deku lay on Kirishima’s bed, ear pressed against the wall. After that exchange, there’d been utter silence. Kirishima was probably asleep…
So he pulled out his phone and typed a message to Kacchan.
You didn’t get to come
Followed by
Do you want to?
Eighteen seconds later, he heard the sound of Kacchan’s door opening.
Deku leapt from the bed and ran to fling open Kirishima’s. Perfect timing: Kacchan’s shocked face greeted him right outside the door. Deku said nothing as he dragged him back into Kirishima’s room.
“What are you doing?” Kacchan asked, flushing. “Not here!”
“He’s asleep, it’s fine,” Deku said, already divesting the blond of his clothes. He knelt to shuck off the black bottoms and stilled, eyeing the trail of come making its way down Kacchan’s thighs. Hmm.
He wasn’t sure if fucking Kacchan with Kirishima’s come still dripping out of him was gross, or made it that much hotter. He’d decide later.
“Just be quiet, ‘kay?" Kacchan must’ve felt so pent up that for once, he didn’t even argue.
Instead, Deku’s back thudded against the wall and he found himself on Kirishima’s bed with Kacchan climbing on his lap. He nearly squealed in delight as Kacchan began to lower himself on his dick, but his view was blocked by a palm suddenly pressed to his face. As a threat? A blindfold? A gag? He wasn’t sure, maybe all three.
A muffled grunt escaped him as Kacchan’s ass enveloped his length – firm and lined with so much slick that the volume of wet noise it produced was downright vulgar. His dick took its rightful place, filling the space Kirishima had just vacated. While the redhead was peacefully asleep, on the other side of this wall, with less than a foot between them.
Kacchan seemed to be getting off to the same realization, based on the expression he wore as Deku peered through his fingers. For once, he could see Kacchan’s face: his slightly parted lips, bright pink cheeks and glassy eyes, from which tears trickled down in steady streams.
God. Kacchan wanted him. So badly that he was willing to ride him like this, in Kirishima’s bed.
Kacchan brought his face close, so near that Deku saw the unmistakable arousal darkening his pupils. “Izuku,” he whispered.
That was his go signal, so he held Kacchan by the flanks and helped him along, bouncing him on his lap. Thanks to his quirk, doing so was effortless. Not that Kacchan was particularly heavy, but it put less strain on his thighs, leaving him to arch his back and moan as Deku did the work for both of them.
Soon Kacchan’s eyes fluttered closed, and he was coming on Deku’s shirt. He had grown weighty with exhaustion so Deku pinned him down on the red sheets and rutted into his convulsing body until he reached his own climax. He kept his face pressed into Kacchan’s white blond hair as he quietly washed away Kirishima’s fluids with his own.
There was a spark of triumph growing brighter and brighter in his chest. Knowing he’d managed to get Kacchan to come untouched every single time, while Kirishima couldn’t.
Deku 1, Kirishima 0.
Kacchan wiggled out of his embrace and pulled his bottoms back on. "Get back to your fucking room, creep,” he hissed before leaving.
Deku tidied the sheets first; miraculously, they had remained unsoiled. He wondered whether Kacchan would bother cleaning himself before crawling back into bed with Kirishima, brimming with his come.
Damn. The thought left him both horny and pissed.
When Kirishima came to him all morose the next day, Deku just patted his back and said everything would work out, Kacchan would understand, blah blah blah.
Poor guy. He really did feel bad for him.
--
Tuesday night meant studying with Todoroki on the floor of Deku’s bedroom, during which they rarely spoke. He had been going over his math equations when Todoroki, for once, broke the silence.
“Midoriya?”
“Yeah?” He replied, looking up.
“I think we should—” A flicker of emotion passed through Todoroki’s face, one Deku couldn’t discern. “Would you like to study together thrice a week instead of just twice?”
“You know what?” He allowed himself a grin. “That’s a great idea. I’ll think about it.”
“Think about it?”
“I usually rewrite notes on other days, so I’ll see if I can rearrange my schedule, okay?”
“I also figured we could exchange spare keycards,” Todoroki said, pulling out his wallet. “So we can visit each other whenever we want.”
“That’s also a great idea, Todoroki! But—but, my spare keycard’s gone missing.” Which was actually true, and right now, Deku had never been more thankful to have misplaced his second. Todoroki having his spare meant he could accidentally barge in on him and Kacchan. A horrifying thought.
“Oh?” Todoroki looked puzzled, like he didn’t know what to do now with the keycard in his hand.
“I’ll look for it and give it to you when I find it, how’s that?” He suggested. The other male shrugged in the middle of picking up his books.
“Okay. I’ll leave mine on your desk, then.” Todoroki closed the distance between them to plant a kiss on Deku’s forehead. Deku beamed at him, before getting up to walk him to the door.
“Thanks, Todoroki! That means a lot.”
When Todoroki left the room, Deku decided to clear up the mess on his desk and search for his spare keycard again. He wasn’t planning on giving it to Todoroki even if he found it; where it could’ve ended up was a mystery, though. Maybe he’d have to ask for a new one.
A familiar All Might jingle interrupted his train of thought. Grabbing his phone, he frowned as he saw the name KIRISHIMA on the screen. It was midnight. What could he possibly want at this hour?
The message was vague:
Midoriya I did it
Did what? He replied, though deep down, he had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what this was about.
I went unbreakable
Are you serious? Deku sent back. He was already in the middle of typing ‘You might’ve hurt him’, but before he could send it, three messages arrived in succession:
I know you warned me not to but I was very safe I promise
Was so hot
He fucking loved it ;)
Deku dropped his phone and began pacing. How could Kirishima do this?! It could ruin everything. If Kacchan really ‘loved it’, then—
He could feel his heart pounding faster and faster, its rhythm matching that of his harried footsteps.
Then— He would have no more use for Deku.
And that was… Not okay.
--
Kacchan was rightfully suspicious when Deku was the one who let him into All Might’s office. His gaze skimmed the empty room before meeting Deku’s eyes.
“Where’s All Might?”
Deku shrugged. “America.”
“What?! Then why did you tell me we were having a meeting?”
“Just needed to get you alone.” He swooped down and lifted Kacchan easily, one arm under the bend of his knees while the other curled around his back. The blond predictably struggled in his grip.
“Hey! Put me down—”
“Shhh, the teachers will hear.”
Deku was not in the mood for Kacchan’s tsundere routine today. He let him thrash around first to get the resentment out of his system, since that was how their meetings typically started. Kacchan always fought him like a fractious cat before they fucked, probably thinking it granted him some modicum of control over the situation.
Thankfully, his grousing had an easy off-switch: plug him up with a dick, which Deku was trying to do now. He tossed Kacchan down on the sofa and clambered onto it, methodically stripping the blond of his school uniform. From sheer excitement, he managed to rip his belt straight out of the loops, but this caused the leather to snap cleanly in two.
“That was my only belt, asshole!”
Deku mumbled a promise that he would get him a new one. He loosened his own, and took a bit more care sliding Kacchan’s trousers and underwear off. Marveling at the exposed thighs before him (already soaked and shivering, too; amazing how fast Kacchan’s body caught on), Deku nudged Kacchan, turning him onto his front, and pushed the hem of his grey jacket up before entering him in one smooth motion.
“W-we have class,” Kacchan moaned, his whole body shuddering.
“I know,” Deku answered, momentarily distracted by the fresh wave of cuts all over Kacchan’s hips. It didn’t matter, he told himself. He would just replace them, he’d paint Kacchan inside out and leave marks that were irremovable.
He needed to drill it into Kacchan’s head (through his ass) that whatever Kirishima could give him, Deku could give ten times over. So he held Kacchan down as he fucked him, enjoying the way his quirk’s lightning rebounded off the twitching body beneath his.
The couch springs creaked louder and louder. There were no cries of ‘Izuku’ this time around, probably because Kacchan was serious about not wanting to be heard by anyone. He was groaning through his teeth, and Deku gave a warning thrust when he saw a flash of light surround Kacchan’s hands.
“You better not burn the couch,” he cautioned.
“Shut up,” Kacchan responded weakly. But he obeyed, and his hands lost their glow. No matter what he said, he always obeyed in the end.
Deku pistoned his hips, making sure to aim properly and bottom out each time until Kacchan was whining with every thrust. He worked at it until a familiar heat uncoiled in his pelvis. He was close, so he pulled out and flipped Kacchan onto his back. This caught the blond by surprise, causing his knees to lock up as Deku drove back into him.
It was, Deku thought dizzily, the first time they were in this position, where he could settle his hands on Kacchan’s knees, keeping them firmly parted. And he could finally see Kacchan at his most vulnerable state: his tear-stained cheeks, the blush fast spreading across his nose, the way he kept licking his lips to mitigate the excess drooling. His cock, bobbing and leaking against his abdomen.
Kacchan was really pretty when he cried, and even prettier when his crying was induced by a good dicking. No wonder he tried to hide it all the time.
Deku made a grab for Kacchan’s cock. A fist came to knock his hand out of the way, but the action in itself was half-hearted. Deku had timed it perfectly: he was stroking Kacchan and soon they were coming together, Kacchan in spurts that hit both their stomachs and him spending himself into Kacchan’s tightening hole.
But he wasn’t done. With no refractory period to deal with, he would show Kacchan that Unbreakable was nothing compared to what One for All could do.
He moved his whole body up Kacchan’s chest, and used his strength-enhanced hands to forcibly open Kacchan’s mouth. Just as he’d theorized, a lot of saliva spilled out – Kacchan really did leak everywhere, after all.
Yes, he was cheating by using his quirk even for this, but it was necessary because the fight in Kacchan returned full-force. He was trying to nip at Deku’s fingers. Cute, but – there was something he needed to do. So Deku used his thumbs and index fingers to pry open Kacchan’s mouth, and thrust his cock in. He couldn’t suppress the groan, or the way his eyes rolled back in his head.
So warm and wet. His first blowjob from Kacchan!
Kacchan’s angry noises only served to make his palate and tongue shiver around Deku’s cock, his throat constricting and therefore increasing the pleasure tenfold. Deku stiffened his fingers, making sure Kacchan’s upper and lower teeth were parted as much as possible as he slid his cock in and out.
Strong hands wrapped around his wrists and crackled threateningly. Seeing the fierce anger directed toward him, Deku knew it was time to wrap up this show so he came into Kacchan’s mouth, just as he’d finally managed to form a word, or at least part of one anyway.
“—On’t!”
Too late.
Deku withdrew his cock, soft and twitching, as well as his fingers. He sat back, amused, as Kacchan got up and started retching, eventually throwing up all over the cushion and partially on the floor before he rolled off the couch. He continued to heave and scrub at his mouth furiously.
“Aw, Kacchan, now we’ll have to clean that up.” They could probably flip the cushion, but now he’d have to get a mop, too…
“Fuck off!” Kacchan croaked, voice hoarse. “I didn’t tell you you could do that!” He looked upset, probably mad that Deku had come so much again.
Sporting a broad grin, Deku reached out to grab him. “I got carried away. But you were amazing, I was doing it at fifteen percent and—”
“I don’t care!” Kacchan knocked away his hand, then proceeded to redress himself at a breakneck speed. His pants sagged even more without a belt to hold them up, but he didn’t seem to notice. He looked angrier, fury rolling off him in waves, which was… Unusual. His tantrums usually dissipated after a comment or two, but this time he refused to even look at Deku.
“Enough. I’m not doing this shit anymore.”
“Wait, what? Kacchan—”
The door slammed closed, and Deku scrambled to clean up before he could follow him.
Class had started ten minutes ago. He apologized multiple times to Aizawa before taking his seat. Kacchan pointedly ignored him, but Deku couldn’t help but wonder how their classmates hadn’t picked up on their equally rumpled shirts and untidy hair. Were they really so oblivious…?
“Anyway,” Aizawa sighed. “Before Midoriya decided to make his grand entrance, I was saying that Vlad King and I have scheduled another joint training session between 1-A and 1-B in the near future…”
Deku normally would’ve been over the moon at having the opportunity to train with 1-B again. But instead he was filled with dread as he dwelled on Kacchan’s words. Why had Kacchan gotten mad…? Deku hadn’t held back. That was what he liked, right…?
He stared ahead, at the bushy head in front of him and the continuous rise and fall of his shoulders. Kacchan was breathing fast, still winded from earlier.
Deku needed to do something… And show Kacchan what more he could give him. Or else—
Or else he would lose Kacchan to Kirishima.
He flexed his hand under the table and closed his eyes, summoning Black Whip.
He couldn’t see it, but easily felt the black tendril worming its way out of his fingers. In this state, it was easiest to control. He didn’t require much of it right now, just one little ribbon of it that he slowly directed toward Kacchan’s chair.
It wound its way around the side, and Deku saw it poking from beneath the corner of his desk. The cloud-like strip felt its way through the space between Kacchan’s back and his seat.
This would work… Kacchan loved strong, well-controlled quirks. He would definitely love this.
His whip felt around, and Deku vicariously sensed it as it came into contact with the fabric of Kacchan’s trousers. The blond’s whole body jerked, and several seatmates turned to stare but he just shook his head and bent down over his notes again. Deku smirked. He coaxed the whip into Kacchan’s pants. Felt it slide gently into his underwear. Kacchan’s skin – he could feel it now. All he needed to do was travel lower…
The blond visibly shifted in his seat, straightening his back.
Yes! He could feel the tendril prodding at Kacchan’s hole. Now he just needed to make it go in, and swirl around the come Deku left in him...
But then, several things happened at once.
Kacchan abruptly twisted around to look directly at him, which made Deku freeze. His eyes glinted with pure malice. Deku had been expecting a muttered insult, or maybe a cute and flustered look.
What he didn’t expect?
...Was for Kacchan to stand up, grab his chair and swing it down over Deku’s head.
There was a loud crack. He reacted in the nick of time, channeling his quirk to his arm to block the impact. The chair splintered into several pieces and Deku stood up. There were noises of surprise from their classmates, and Aizawa was already yelling “Bakugo! What on earth—”
But Kacchan ignored him, and to the confusion of everyone in the room, began screaming obscenities at Deku. The same mouth that had been wrapped around his dick ten minutes earlier was now spitting out a myriad of insults he couldn’t keep up with (though he heard ‘nerd’ and ‘loser’ somewhere in there), until Kacchan finished with “Get fucked, Deku!”
Deku glared back and snarled:
“You’re the one who needs to get fucked, Kacchan.”
…Causing jaws all around the room to simultaneously drop.
“The hell did you just say to me?!”
“Woah,” Kirishima said, stepping between them. “Bakugo, man, calm down! Midoriya didn’t do anything—”
Todoroki, too, was advancing toward Bakugo, his voice shaking with fury. “Don’t you dare hurt him.”
“Both of you!” Aizawa said, causing the group to break apart as he approached. “Get out of here, you’re done for today. I don’t care where you go, as long as you two are well outside this classroom and aren’t anywhere near each other. I will not allow any further disruption in this class.”
Kacchan growled and snatched up his bag, heading toward the door without another word. Meanwhile, Deku was still fighting to digest what had just happened. He only moved when Aizawa handed his bag to him. “Go, Midoriya.”
“I thought Bakugo and Midoriya were getting along now… What the hell was that?” Mina whispered frantically to Tsuyu as Deku made his way toward the door.
Kacchan was half-way down the hall when Deku caught up with him. It took a single burst of speed to have him blinking in confusion at suddenly being pinned against the high window.
“Listen, Kacchan, I—”
“No, don’t fucking touch me!” The blond pushed, but Deku simply pushed back and kept him there. Kacchan looked around wildly for bystanders, ignoring the triumphant smile Deku flashed at him.
“There’s no one he—"
His vision filled with white light and he staggered, falling backward onto the floor. Blinded by Stun Grenade, he could do nothing but cry out in pain as he heard Kacchan’s steps fading away.
God, he’d forgotten how much it hurt to have an explosion hurled at you, straight to the face. His whole head was going to blister now, like it was middle school all over again. At least this time he had Recovery Girl. So he sat there waiting for his vision return, and headed for the clinic when it did at last.
This was not over. He had to be in top condition for tonight. It was a last resort, but it was the only offer he could think of that Kacchan couldn’t possibly refuse.
--
Of course, Kacchan had spent the rest of the day working out.
Deku waited until it was well past dinner before coming into the locker room. He warped the door to ensure that they wouldn’t be disturbed, and followed the sound of the shower running. Without hesitation, he strode up to one of the cubicles and pulled the curtain open.
He never got bored of seeing Kacchan naked, and turns out walking in on him taking a bath was all it took to see his body in a completely different light.
Rivulets of flowing water were tracing every ripple of his abs as they poured down his skin. Some dripped off his hair, which refused to lay flat no matter what, and whose spiky tendrils hung low over his eyes. Kacchan liked his showers hot, and it showed with how pink his skin was, cloaked in steam. He had a soap bar in his hand as his eyes had barely shifted with Deku’s appearance.
He looked bored by his presence, and that was definitely a cause for concern. Kacchan should’ve been angry still, but now he was ignoring Deku outright even after being ambushed in the shower.
Deku dropped his gaze and only then did he glimpse the scratches – dozens of them around Kacchan’s lower torso, stretching down to his upper thigh. Some crisscrossing, others vertical, few that were curved.
Now that he could see them clearly, he found himself clenching his jaw. He had to give it to Kirishima; the man had truly outdone himself this time. The lacerations mocked Deku, bright bands of red that gleamed under the fluorescent light. Forever more noticeable than any bruise he’d left.
“I’m sorry.” He hadn’t even meant to say it. He didn’t even know what he was apologizing for. For what happened in All Might’s office, or what happened in class…?
“Ha? Was that an actual apology I heard just now?” Kacchan was still skimming his arm with soap, only half-paying attention to Deku’s blubbering.
He couldn’t help it. “I’m really sorry,” he said again, voice cracking. He’d hit rock bottom, without a clue as to what to say next so he was throwing anything at the wall just to see what sticks.
“Why the hell are you still here.”
Good question. He had wanted to show Kacchan what he could do, he had hoped to win him back because Kacchan deserved the best and Deku believed he was the best for Kacchan, because he could do things no one else could, and earlier was a mistake because he had done things that Kacchan had already told him he hadn’t wanted, but now would be different, he’d always known what Kacchan desired most—
“Deku!” He blinked as the bar of soap bounced off his chest. Kacchan’s eyes were fixed on him, glaring from underneath his sopping wet hair. “Do you not fucking realize that I can hear you muttering everything?!”
“Oh.”
Deku was now very much aware that he was still fully clothed, and that Kacchan was fully naked in the shower, and that they were having a casual conversation wherein he’d just outed his intentions.
Fuck it.
“Kacchan…” He stepped in, soaking his own clothes, and with a determined gaze at the blond, crowded him against the wall as he spoke. “Let me go all out. Please.”
Their faces were inches apart, Kacchan peering down at him with total disdain. His lips hardly moved.
“Fuck you, Izuku.”
The tension broke, desire and power bursting out of Deku all at once as he picked up Kacchan with ease and slammed him against the wall. His mouth closed around a nipple and sucked, while Kacchan’s palm shot to his forehead and pressed firmly against it. Kacchan was groaning, utterly failing to hide his arousal as his length grew stiff, poking at Deku’s shirt.
Water was not a good lubricant, but he would have Kacchan gushing soon anyway. All he needed to do now was check whether Kacchan’s slick would counteract the friction of his already wet fingers. The blond’s knees bumped at his sides as Deku slipped three digits into him, and they went in easily as always. Amazing.
Kacchan cursed all the while, blasting holes in the back of his jacket. Called him an idiot for being so damn slow. Deku merely smiled. This was the game they’d always played, even since they were kids, wherein Kacchan pretended not to like something at first but always gave in eventually so long as Deku was persistent.
He kept Kacchan upright with one hand, the other peeling away his drenched gym shorts to free his own cock. The shower was still spraying both of them, but that was easy to ignore as he pried Kacchan’s cheeks open and caught the spurt of thicker, natural lubricant with his fingertips. Deku hummed with pleasure as he slid his cock home.
Finally, Kacchan settled down. Like a flipped switch, Deku felt his body slacken. The explosions ceased and he relented, legs locking around Deku’s waist.
Why had Deku even bothered groveling or arguing? He’d relied on reason when he chould’ve let his dick do the talking from the start. Kacchan didn’t even mind that Deku’s face was pillowed in his chest. He could hear the increasing thumps of Kacchan’s heartbeat, feel the swell of muscle against his cheek.
Kacchan’s hold on him was still too unsteady for them to fuck without care. This wouldn’t do, and Deku didn’t want to risk missing again, so he rearranged Kacchan’s legs, hiking them over his shoulders. The position had Kacchan bent practically in half, knees drawn up to his head and Deku was left to marvel at his innate flexibility. He placed his hands flat on the wall and allowed gravity to do all the work in letting Kacchan slide down on his cock.
Their voices came together, and having tested the robustness of this new position, Deku snapped his hips forward. Every moan he pulled out of Kacchan was louder than it had ever been. No wonder, as it was the first time their faces had gotten this close during sex.
The newness sent a thrill through him and he couldn’t help but punch the wall besides Kacchan’s head, making sure his fist left a nice big crack. Deku could send the entire wall crumbling if he wanted to, and he made sure Kacchan knew it as he continued fucking him with abandon, up against the ceramic.
With a growl he amped up his power to new heights, and Kacchan squeezed around him, arms and legs and ass all at once. “Shit! Izuku—” His voice hit differently this time, with how Deku’s name echoed off the tiles.
It was dickish to not warn Kacchan but he couldn’t help himself: in a flash he had moved them out of the cubicle, planting Kacchan down on a low bench. The blond shook the water out of his hair and eyes, wariness setting in.
“Black whip,” Deku said breathlessly. “I can use it pretty well now, you know, and I’m sure you’ve thought about it, too. That I can use One for All and Black Whip at the same time. Two quirks, Kacchan, didn’t you say you were strong? You can handle both, can’t you?
“O-of course,” Kacchan replied, his expression hardening. He would never back down from a challenge. Deku loved that about him. Loved that he wanted to be thrown around and held down while being fucked. That his fiery personality manifested in the bedroom as being desperate and demanding.
Deku summoned his whips and let them do the work.
They shot out of his hands and wrapped around Kacchan’s wrists, locking them beneath the bench. It had a beautiful effect of causing Kacchan’s chest to jut out more, his nipples stiff and back arched, testing the limits of his flexibility once again.
“Deku, wait, what the fuck—” He wriggled, unable to move an inch. Tears dripped sideways down his cheek and Deku took that as a good sign, that Kacchan was leaking with arousal.
“Just relax,” Deku said with a soothing pat on his hip. Settling down on the other end of the bench, he penetrated Kacchan with both index fingers, curled them and tugged, spreading his hole open. Kacchan had such a stunning ass, hole pink and swollen as a slop of his clear slick dribbled out. Deku licked it all up, sighing appreciatively against Kacchan’s skin as the tangy sweetness met his tongue.
Kacchan thrashed again, which just made him leak even more. Deku put his mouth on Kacchan’s rim and slurped, his head spinning from the euphoria he felt at finally getting to do this. He could’ve sworn Kacchan tasted even sweeter now.
“I’ve never seen you this wet,” he murmured. “It’s overflowing so much, forming a puddle—” That much was true, for the wet spot on the bench was growing, and some of it had spilled on the floor. His slick had become watery from mixing with freshly showered skin.
Kacchan kicked out at him. Annoyed, Deku called on more black tendrils to seize his thighs and hold them as far apart as possible, on either side of the bench. He slid Kacchan’s body toward him and rammed his cock in.
Deku gasped, barely registering the scream that pierced the air. It felt amazing, especially with both quirks uninhibited. His own body shook, quaking from the sheer amount of power amassing within him. It was almost too much, making Kacchan shout again in alarm as Deku began unleashing some of that energy onto him, over and over. His whips tautened, driving Kacchan to his limit--
“Stop!” Kacchan cried. “I don’t like it!” Which was so unlike him that it was hard to take seriously, because he clearly did like it, judging from the tears on his face and wetness of his ass. Deku simply huffed and went faster.
“It’s fine.”
“STOP! DAMMIT, LET ME GO!” Kacchan would never start something he couldn’t finish. Deku was damn well sure of that, so he wasn’t going to hold back now.
The thread of control he had was now split into two for each quirk, and deep down, he sensed it thinning, frayed. His hands were digging into Kacchan’s legs, spreading them wider and wider. For some reason Deku was only indistinctly aware of Kacchan’s skin slapping against his own.
There were colorful lights dancing in his vision, blocking his view of Kacchan’s face. The blond’s eyebrows pinched together anxiously and – no, that definitely wasn’t fear in his eyes, was it? He was obviously mistaken…
Don’t worry, he tried to say. But his words came out garbled from having lost all feeling in his mouth.
“Deku—!” Kacchan struggled to say but a whip wrapped around his neck, cutting him off and that was not something Deku had even asked for, what was happening…?
No, he could still manage! He was in control, not the quirks, despite the dread growing in his chest at having been overcome by his own power. Stop, he commanded, but the whips and his own hands wouldn’t obey. He had Kacchan enveloped in both his quirks to be hurt—no, protected! Protected so that Kirishima could never get his claws on him again—
Something snapped. Wait, not just one— Two things, one inside him and the other was… Shit, Kacchan—
“FUCK!”
The instant he heard a crack, Deku’s whips and power dissipated into thin air. Kacchan collapsed onto the floor, hands hovering over his left leg. It was limp, his foot turned inward at an odd angle.
Deku dropped to his knees beside him, terrified by what he’d done.
“I told you,” Kacchan whimpered. “I told you to stop—”
“Kacchan, your leg…”
“Don’t—come near.”
“You need Recovery Girl. I think your hip’s been—”
Kacchan choked, turning away from him.
“Don’t.”
But he was completely immobile, helpless on the floor, a clear puddle forming under his soaking body that reminded Deku eerily of blood. All he could do was fix Deku with the harshest glare that he could muster.
“On second thought,” Deku mused, surveying the damage. “Carrying you there’s gonna hurt you more. I’ll have to pop it back into place.” Kacchan shook his head.
“No-no-no, just leave me alone!” He tried to bat Deku’s hands away, hissing in pain as they bore down on his pelvis. “Stop, I’ll—” Kacchan’s yell ripped through the air and he tossed his head back, gasping.
“There, does that feel better?”
“No. Go away.” Despite Kacchan’s claim, he was moving again, though his motions were stilted and far slower than normal. He hauled himself up using the bench and tested his weight on one foot. He was standing at least, but – barely. “I don’t want to fucking see you ever again.”
“You don’t mean that, it was just an accident.”
“An accident?!” Kacchan pointed an accusing finger at him. “You don’t listen to anything I say! You’re sick! Do you even hear yourself? How many times did I tell you to stop?!”
“B-but you’re strong and I was just giving you what you want—"
“What I want?” There was a twitch in Kacchan’s jaw. “You’ve never cared about what I want. All of this has just been you living out your sick little revenge fantasy. You’re a fucking lunatic, Deku. The way you do whatever pops up in your freaky brain without giving a shit, don’t think I haven’t noticed that you act like—”
“Revenge fantasy?” Deku repeated, his mind going blank. Did Kacchan honestly think he was just fucking him… To get back at him? The admission was so shocking it broke him for a couple of seconds. Without even bothering to towel off first, Kacchan pulled on his clothes, wincing.
“Is that it, then?” Deku said, his voice rising. “That you were just sleeping with me because of your own guilt?”
“Meaning,” he continued, and walked up to the blond, who was determinedly avoiding eye contact, clearly regretting what he’d just said. “You felt bad about bullying me all those years, so instead of apologizing, you thought letting me fuck you in the ass would make us even?”
Kacchan growled but said nothing. “Or,” Deku practically shouted, so loudly it made Kacchan flinch. “Is it because I’m stronger than you now? That I can overpower you with a snap of my fingers? You thought just because you can take my dick that that would prove we’re still at equal levels of strength?”
“SHUT UP, I’LL KILL YOU!”
Aha. There it was, the truth. Which made Deku feel no better to hear, but his rage had gotten the best of him. That Kacchan would still think that Deku didn’t care, when he’d spent a literal decade doing nothing but, was insulting, because at the same time he was the one projecting all his insecurities onto Deku, agreeing to sex solely because he wanted to prove something to himself.
Fuck. And yet he was the one trying to get rid of Deku for going all out? It didn’t make any sense.
“Say what you want, Kacchan, but before today you weren’t exactly complaining, were you? Or are we just gonna pretend you haven’t been screaming my name every time I fuck you? You loved having sex with me, not with my quirk.”
Kacchan opened his mouth to argue, but Deku wasn’t done.
“You don’t like that you enjoy it, but let’s face it: you do. I bet even when you’re with Kirishima you’re thinking of me—”
“You conceited piece of shit! I told you not to bring him up!”
He waved away Kacchan’s explosion. His head was hurting from all the angry words he wanted to say. It was impossible to keep all of them from spilling out, and before he knew it, he was breaking down.
“Why not, Kacchan? Why can’t I? Why are you still pretending he makes you feel good? You know he doesn’t. I know he doesn’t! Even he knows, because he told me that himself! Why can’t you just end things with him instead of stringing him along!”
“Says the idiot who won’t even touch his own boyfriend!”
“Because I love you, Kacchan!” He pointedly ignored Kacchan’s look of absolute disgust. “I can’t pretend to want someone else. I’ve always wanted you. Why can’t you just be with me?”
“Because I hate you!”
“You don’t hate me when I’m inside you, though.”
All emotion left Kacchan’s face, leaving his expression blank. He didn’t yell, didn’t move to attack Deku either.
“I’m done. I’m... Going. Don't follow me.”
“Kacchan, wait. Please—” But he had already hobbled toward the door and blasted it open.
For once, Deku didn’t chase after him. He was still reeling from everything he’d said and heard. They had argued, like a real couple. But. His heart twisted at the finality of it, clear in Kacchan’s voice.
It was… Over…?
Notes:
So how 'bout that OVA, eh? I couldn't stop laughing while watching it, especially because I had written the end scene before it even premiered.
Few notes:
-The room All Might holds meetings with Deku in is clearly some sort of lounge anyone can use, but for sexy purposes I made it his personal office instead. Sorry.
-I will always maintain that Black Whip is godly and should be used more in fics.
-Deku's initial chapter (and this one) were supposed to be combined into one. The reason the timeline in this fic jumps around constantly is because my original plan was just to have one chapter per character, basically with the same story except told through multiple perspectives. I decided to change it up though and feel better now about having split it into multiple parts. The plan is currently to have 7 chapters, but to be honest it might get stretched into 8 because way too much is going to happen in the "final" chapter, so we'll see.Hope you enjoyed this chapter, as long and sex-heavy as it was! I really appreciate all your comments and speculation. They keep me going!
It's Kirishima's time to shine again in the next one. Will he find out? Will Todoroki ever get a clue? Will poor All Might ever learn about what happened on his couch? Stay tuned.
Chapter 5: Kirishima Keeps Holding On
Summary:
Kirishima goes plus ultra.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The second Eijirou got back from Osaka, he was waylaid by classmates at the front door of Heights Alliance. Despite the steady stream of answers pouring out of his mouth, he couldn’t keep up with the speed of their questioning. It soon became impossible to shake them off, especially Sero, who had locked him in place with an arm around his shoulder.
By the time Eijirou caught Katsuki’s eye across the common room, he was all out of words.
Piercing red eyes bored into his own. The blond sat with one foot propped up on the table, and his gaze followed Eijirou as he trudged toward the elevator, after announcing that he wanted to go to sleep.
Katsuki was in his room not five minutes later, naked and straddling him on the bed.
“Show me, Shitty Hair. I want to see it.”
“Show you what, Katsuki?”
There was a knowing glint in his eye, notable whenever Katsuki wanted something and was not going to take no for an answer.
“Don’t play dumb.” He flashed his phone, and Eijirou caught a glimpse of the article. His own monstrous image stared back at him on the screen. Unbreakable form. Something stirred in his chest. So Katsuki had been diligently checking up on him. How often must he have searched Red Riot, waiting for news?
“But it’s scary-looking,” he mumbled shyly.
From his spot perched on Eijirou’s stomach, Katsuki peered down at him. Then the corners of his mouth quirked upward.
He reached behind himself to free Eijirou’s cock, straightening his back as he did so. At that angle, his chest stuck out in that perfectly sexy way that Eijirou had been fantasizing about all week. Although it looked far too clean and unmarked after being separated from him for some time.
Eijirou thumbed the V-lines of Katsuki’s hips, trying to suppress a groan as the blond’s hand ran up and down his length, teasing it to hardness.
“Bet you were thinking of me when you did it.”
Yes, dammit. Eijirou closed his eyes in admission. He totally had. Katsuki was too damn intuitive for his own good. “Am I not worthy of seeing it or something?”
As Katsuki’s grin turned wolfish, his hold on Eijirou’s cock also tightened. Eijirou pressed his lips together, took a deep breath and went rigid.
The skin on his face rippled and turned to scale, myriads of cracks meeting in the center of his nose and overlapping each other as his features hardened into rock. His hair reacted similarly, seizing upward and freezing into stalactites. As his teeth lengthened, his maw was forced half-open to accommodate their size.
From the neck up, he was now Unbreakable.
Katsuki’s eyes had clouded over from watching him, his cheeks flushed a tantalizing pink. He licked his lips a couple of times, surveying Eijirou in complete silence. His breathing turned heavy, and—
Holy fuck.
Eijirou felt it, warm on his stomach. The sudden onslaught of wetness, fluid seeping onto his abs, right in the spot where Katsuki was sitting.
Katsuki had just creamed himself with slick from seeing him use his quirk.
Eijirou stayed frozen, partly because his face was quite literally stuck that way, and mostly because this had never happened before, and his mind had reacted by going blissfully blank. The evidence was pooling on the surface of his belly, and the fragrance of the room had turned unmistakably sweet.
There was so much.
Katsuki swayed, like Eijirou’s appearance had physically shaken him, and the redhead thought for a second that he was going to topple off.
A wet sound rent the air as Katsuki scooted back, thighs sliding along his own mess.
“Stay like that. Fuck, Kirishima. Yes.” He held Eijirou’s cock in place as he sank down on it, while staring hungrily at him the whole. Damn. Time.
Eijirou couldn’t move his face, couldn’t even twitch so much as an eyeball. He had to keep his neck craned to keep his gaze trained on Katsuki, but it was totally worth it to see him lose it like that. Completely taken in by Eijirou’s quirk, he released a moan, long and unbroken. Eijirou’s cock had sunk in straight to the hilt.
“Oh,” Katsuki said, rolling his hips. It felt so good that Eijirou managed to articulate despite his rock solid vocal cords. He couldn’t form words, but produced a low rumbling noise. That apparently seemed to turn Katsuki on even more because he cried out, “Oh, shit,” and rode him harder.
Eijirou felt it – torrents of honey-sweet lubricant, dripping down his cock, only to be swallowed back into Katsuki’s hole with every springing motion of his body. Katsuki was reinventing dick-riding right then and there while all he could do was spectate. He was in total awe, even if he couldn’t exactly show it due to his hardened shell of a face.
“Your fingers, use your fingers,” Katsuki moaned, and he grabbed Eijirou’s hands and guided them to his waist. Eijirou squeezed lightly, but he knew, that wasn’t what Katsuki wanted at all.
Sure enough, a huff of exasperation escaped the blond’s lips and his palms covered Eijirou’s, smoking with warning.
“Harden them, you fuck—”
So Eijirou did, the bones in his fingers creaking as they curled into talons. He locked Katsuki in between his sharpened hands and lifted, then pushed Katsuki down hard on his dick.
Lines of red were steadily appearing on Katsuki’s skin. Eijirou purposely blocked out the thought that his nails would come out of this coated in Katsuki’s blood. Because if anything, being marked so thoroughly had Katsuki arching and moaning much louder than before.
Eijirou crooked his fingers and repeated the motion over and over, similarly bucking his hips every time Katsuki ground down against his pelvis.
At this point during their routine he would usually ramble to Katsuki about how hot he looked, how delicious his noises were. But since he couldn’t speak, he contented himself with enjoying the view, of Katsuki dissolving from pleasure right before him, his red eyes fixated on Eijirou’s face all throughout.
“Grhhg—”
The snarl Eijirou let out was downright feral, as he clawed at Katsuki while he came. In return, Katsuki willingly absorbed it all: the impact of Eijirou’s final thrust, the sight of his monstrous jaw shifting, and the copious fluids he’d deposited in him. He released as well, adding to the slick that was spread all over Eijirou’s front.
They remained attached even as Katsuki quickly leaned forward, rushing his movements before Eijirou could even think of transforming back.
Katsuki kissed him, somewhere on the teeth, then pressed his forehead against his. Eijirou couldn’t feel any of it, but he could easily recall the warmth of Katsuki’s palms as they covered the broken ridges of his cheeks.
“Next time,” the blond sighed, his eyes fluttering closed. “Give me all of it, okay?”
Eijirou’s face stayed gnarled and unmoving. He couldn’t have nodded even if he wanted to.
--
He never thought he’d rue the day two of his closest friends got together, but when they spent half the time making out in front of him, well, he couldn’t help but think back to when times were simpler.
Apparently, Kaminari was thinking the same thing. They shared nauseated looks as the pair rolled around on the grass.
And here he thought it would be a nice day to spend outside. Ugh.
“Don’t be jealous,” Mina said, when she finally came up for air. She stuck her tongue out at as Kaminari mimed throwing up. “You and Jirou could be doing the same thing if you weren’t fighting all the time.”
“You act like I’m the one who’s picking fights, when it’s her,” Kaminari grumbled. He was still smarting from the week prior, when they had tried to get the party games started again.
It had turned out to be a big mistake, ending swiftly and badly when Uraraka had been dared to sit on Kaminari’s lap. His visible excitement had been damning, especially seeing as his girlfriend was in the circle when he reacted. Jirou left in a huff, and that was the final nail in the coffin for game nights in general.
“At least Kirishima doesn’t have to deal with these sorts of problems,” Sero said, his face scrunched up in that usual teasing way.
It took a lot of self-control not to roll his eyes back, because Eijirou knew what was coming: the comments about how they ‘missed being single’, that it ‘must be nice’ to not be in a relationship, always in that same patronizing tone.
It didn’t help that Katsuki made himself scarce nowadays, leaving him to fend for himself. Eijirou used to be able to drag him along to hang out with them occasionally, get him to play a video game or two just by goading him into doing so. But half the time, he no longer knew where his not-boyfriend was.
With a pang in his chest, Eijirou thought that if Katsuki were around, he at least wouldn’t be singled out so much; the other three wouldn’t dare say stuff like that in Katsuki’s presence.
“Remember when everyone used to get along?” Sero said with a dramatic sigh. “It’s like when we all realized we had genitals, we went crazy and started hating each other.”
What he said was half-true, even Eijirou could admit that. Ever since the Advent of Coupling, it became rare for the class to interact as, well, a class. Conversations were often wrought with tension since it became the norm for people to take sides whenever two people, usually a couple (mostly Jirou and Kaminari, actually) had a disagreement.
Faction lines were being drawn and redrawn almost daily. Even Iida, the resident peacekeeper, had become so paranoid about fights that he monitored every conversation like a hawk, ending them before they had a chance to even start.
(“No fighting!” He would shout as he came barreling in, whenever anyone showed any signs of disagreeing with someone else.
“I was just saying I preferred grape soda to orange soda. What the hell, man?”)
“We can’t all be zen like our resident virgin over here,” Kaminari said, poking Eijirou. He was about to make a scathing retort when Mina looked over his shoulder.
“Heads up, guys, here comes our favorite bitchy blond.”
Eijirou nearly broke his neck with the speed at which he twisted it to look, but his smile disappeared when he recognized the person arriving.
“Well if it isn’t the prom-ruiners of 1-A.”
They groaned in unison. Monoma looked down at them imperiously as they remained sitting on the grass. He was accompanied by Kamakiri, silent but intimidating at his side.
“You know we had nothing to do with that, right?” Sero said.
“Nothing to do with it?” Monoma made a sudden movement with his hand, on the verge of losing his composure before he seemed to think better of it. “How could you expect me to believe that, when your ringleader Bakugo was the one who couldn’t help being an attention-seeker yet again?”
Eijirou bristled. “Why the hell would he want to make himself Prom Queen? You saw what happened.”
“Your little friends in the prom committee—” Monoma spat the word ‘friends’ like it was a slur. “Sank low enough to sabotage the ballots and secure a complete 1-A win. So yes, I wouldn’t put it past him to pull a stunt like that.”
“You don’t know shit about Bakugo, then,” Eijirou snapped, perhaps a bit too strongly. “Just get out of here.”
“Oh?” Monoma’s smirk was nothing less than triumphant. “It seems I’ve touched a nerve. Are you just feeling jealous that 1-B has five couples in the class while 1-A only has four? And by the way…” His eyes drifted to Kaminari. “I’ll have you know that 1-B’s are all stable.”
“If that was supposed to be a crack at Jirou and me…” Kaminari started.
“It is, that’s why I looked at you, idiot,” Monoma laughed. “By the way, nice face, Sero. Didn’t your parents ever tell you that you shouldn’t do acid?” Sero and Mina blushed.
“What the hell is your problem? Jealous you’re not dating anyone?” Eijirou asked.
“That’s rich, coming from you,” Monoma shot back. “Red Riot, the manly hero, wasn’t it? Not so manly now, are you? Maybe you should rename yourself to the Single Hero? The Celibate Hero? The Abstinent Her—”
He unleashed a high-pitched cry, fisting the fabric of his now tattered pants. Smoke was rising from the rapidly growing holes in them, revealing a large section of thigh.
“If you don’t want your face to be next, shove off,” Mina growled, hand still outstretched and dripping.
“These were Armani!” Monoma whined.
“I don’t care.”
“1-B will get its revenge, you’ll see!”
“Still don’t care.”
As Monoma and Kamakiri left, muttering among themselves, the group exploded with laughter.
“Have I mentioned how much I love your acid?” Sero said, pulling Mina into a celebratory kiss.
“Yeah, thanks for that, Mina.” Eijirou added.
“Seriously, though?” She shoved Sero back playfully and peered around at all of them, brows furrowing. “He’s kind of right.”
“What?!”
“Kaminari, you need to fight with Jirou less. Sero, I’m sorry, babe, I love you, I really do, and you’re fantastic in the sack but your complexion lately is—” she winced as she gestured at the shining red spots on his face. They had all been pointedly ignoring those up to now, even though it was very apparent how he’d gotten them.
“And Kirishima, for someone so manly, it’s just… Ironic that you’re still a virgin.”
“Manliness has nothing to do with how much sex you have,” Eijirou insisted.
Kaminari cleared his throat. “Kirishima, you should—”
Oh God, it was the ‘you should get a girl’ speech again.
“—Get a girl—” Eijirou groaned. “…Or else you’ll be the only one in class without one. How can you talk about manliness all the time while being so hellbent on maintaining your virtue?”
“My virtue is my business alone, thank you very much. And I’d never be the ‘only’ single guy in class. Mineta doesn’t, and will never have, a girlfriend.”
“Seriously? Mineta should not be the bar for anything. Just try a whirl in the sack if you don’t want a relationship then. It could open doors to some amazing shit.” His voice dropped to a stage whisper. “Like sounding.”
Eijirou didn’t want to know. He stared deliberately at a lone dandelion swaying among the blades of grass. It felt like there was a balloon painfully expanding to fill every space of his chest, but he was determined not to let his indignation show.
“Try it out, you’d love it,” Mina urged.
“How ‘bout Tsuyu or Yaomomo? If you fuck one of them, then at least we’d be able to—” Sero cast a sideward glance at his girlfriend. He’d meant to finish with the word ‘compare’, no doubt. Eijirou turned green. Talking about girls like that definitely wasn’t manly.
He snapped.
“In that case, then why don’t I just fuck Bakugo?”
He flinched at his own words, regretting them immediately. It’s not like he had meant to say it, but forming spikes after taking hit after hit was his entire thing, so what did they expect? Even he could only tolerate so many consecutive knocks to his pride.
Their faces were frozen, as they stared at him for one long moment.
Then the three burst into laughter, Sero kicking at the ground in hysterics while Mina collapsed onto his lap, shrieking. Kaminari was clutching his stomach from how intensely he was cackling.
“Can you imagine?” Kaminari said, face full of mirth.
Mina giggled, wiping tears from her eyes. “Kirishima, you’re too much!”
“Don’t,” Sero wheezed. “Don’t even joke about that, man. He’ll kill you!”
It took a painfully long time for their laughter to die out. Twenty-three seconds, to be exact. Eijirou had kept count, having smiled agonizingly through all of it.
--
Eijirou never did get around to telling Katsuki that he was routinely giving a play-by-play of their nighttime activities to Midoriya. He hadn’t done it on purpose, but ever since Midoriya confessed to having known about them all along, things had sort of just… Snowballed.
So it was only to be expected, he supposed, that he carry a tinge of guilt with him every time he approached Midoriya with an update. Wasn’t it weird, though, his inner voice would frequently point out. To get sex pointers from Midoriya about how to fuck his own childhood best friend?
But it’s not like Midoriya ever told him to shut up. And Midoriya would never tell a soul.
“Have you tried,” he was saying to Eijirou, after patiently listening to him ramble. They were on their way to the dumpster, hauling ten trash bags each. “Have you tried using a condo—”
“Of course, I tried! Midoriya, my dick rips right through it.” In his agitation, Eijirou nearly dropped the bag balanced on his shoulder.
“Wow.”
“No kidding.”
Midoriya was tossing his trash bags into the dumpster one-handed. Eijirou was about to do the same, but instead he found himself sighing and unloading his share on the ground. He squatted, grabbing at his hair as weeks’ worth of frustration bubbled to the surface.
“…I think he’s not as happy with me anymore.”
“Hmm?” The shorter male paused, and instead of throwing another bag, turned to face Eijirou instead. “Why do you say that?”
“He keeps asking for more, and I can’t give him what he wants.” Eijirou kept his eyes downcast and his voice steady, despite feeling the urge to cry. “I’m so worried about hurting him, but he just thinks of it as a hit to his ego and I have to see the disappointment in his eyes every time and…” He took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around his knees.
“Last time we did it…” He was no longer able to keep his voice from breaking. “Right before I fell asleep, I saw him leaving the room. Like… He actually had to sneak out and finish himself off but he clearly didn’t want me to know.”
“Kacchan has always been very tenacious, but I’m sure he’ll come around.”
“Maybe I should just buckle down and do it. Get hard and say fuck it, and, well… Fuck him. Knowing him, he probably has an idea of how to handle it, right?” He looked up at Midoriya, suddenly hopeful. “He has it figured out, surely! Maybe his quirk also makes him extra stretchy and—”
“No!”
Eijirou flinched. Midoriya’s appearance had mutated in a flash, and in his place was an imposing figure Eijirou barely recognized. His eyes were dark and huge. He was looking at Eijirou as if he were a villain who’d just unveiled his dastardly plot, and the redhead found himself shrinking under his penetrating gaze.
“I can’t believe I have to tell you this, but you need to prioritize Kacchan’s well-being! For you and I both, the damage our quirks could do is astronomical and the last thing we should do is risk hurting the people we care about! You do care about him, right?”
“Y-yeah. You’re right, what was I thinking?” He said with a nervous laugh.
This seemed to appease Midoriya, whose features softened. He moved to sit down in front of Eijirou, and his voice returned to its usual pitch.
“Kirishima, how exactly did you and Kacchan, you know… Happen?”
“Well… It’s all thanks to you, actually.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. Kamino.” He smiled, as Midoriya’s eyes sharpened in recognition. “When I took his hand, I felt different all of a sudden, like I needed to protect him at all costs.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Midoriya cut in. “I’ve also, ah….. Held – Well, I want to protect him too. But please, go on.”
“Don’t we all, after what he went through?” Eijirou said with a shrug. “I guess he felt similarly about our little moment, because a few nights later, he literally walked into my room and… You know the rest. So you deserve most of the credit, really. Best wingman ever,” he finished, chuckling.
Midoriya didn’t seem as enthusiastic.
“…I see.”
--
There was nothing like enjoying a post-workout meal together with your best friend-slash-not-boyfriend. Eijirou happily gorged on his gyoza and rice combo, then made an attempt to steal some of Katsuki’s fish until the blond’s chopsticks intercepted his own.
Eijirou snickered upon seeing his glare, and offered him a piece of gyoza, but Katsuki merely scoffed at his peace offering. They were sharing the long table with Shouji and Aoyama, who were both absorbed in eating (and in Aoyama’s case, photographing) their respective meals.
“Oh, aren’t you guys normally still studying at this time?” Eijirou asked, eyeing the two new arrivals.
Todoroki pulled out a seat across him, and Midoriya sat down on the chair beside it, which placed him directly across Katsuki.
“We finished early, since I gotta do some stuff after dinner,” Midoriya replied while peeling the foil off his sandwich.
“Good study session then?” Eijirou asked with a smirk.
“We focused on English, so it was manageable,” Todoroki answered.
Midoriya shuddered and took a bite. “Todoroki always has to help me out with English.”
“But you’re better at math.”
“Well, Bakugo here has his hands full teaching me both—”
There was a clatter as one of Katsuki’s chopsticks fell to the floor.
It wasn’t like him to be clumsy, so it was only natural for everyone to look. But the blond simply switched to using a fork, and Eijirou realized that if Katsuki wanted to pass his gaff off as intentional, then he would play along.
Apparently Midoriya had the same intent. “What subject do you find easiest, Kirishima?” he asked, his gaze returning to Eijirou.
“Oh, uhhhh… Hero class? Too bad we don’t seem to have that anymore.”
“Yeah, I wonder what Aizawa’s thinking with all the—”
Katsuki’s fork hit the floor then, too, which made Midoriya pause. Three matching gazes landed on Katsuki, who was scowling down at his half-eaten fish as if it were the culprit responsible for his fallen kitchenware.
Eijirou’s nose started tingling. Odd… He wasn’t used to Katsuki smelling sweet in the dining room, of all places…
“Aizawa can’t still be mad about prom, can he?” He asked, now casting aside glances at the blond.
“No, that wouldn’t make sense. It wasn’t even our fau—”
“Will both of you shut the fuck up?” Katsuki snapped, slamming his fist down on the table, causing Aoyama and Shouji to look, too. Then with a sharp breath, he buried his face in his hand and appeared to be massaging his eyelids. “Just—” his voice was muffled. “Shut up, I’m trying to eat in peace.”
Todoroki was already opening his mouth to argue but Midoriya placed a hand on his. “It’s fine.”
Eijirou tried to placate his own boyfriend as well, speaking in a low voice so no one else could hear. “Katsuki, you’re sweating bullets and your scent is coming on real strong. Maybe we should get out of here?”
He hadn’t expected him to actually agree, but the blond nodded, already getting up from the table.
“Y-yeah, let’s go.”
They headed to the elevator, but as they were half-way across the common room, a series of yells emanated from the floor above. Then came the sound of rushing footsteps, until something purple came bounding down the stairs.
“Don’t let that little bastard escape!” Everyone heard Sero roar. Iida leapt from the couch as Mineta sprinted past him.
“Tokoyami, don’t let him pass!” Iida called to the next person standing in Mineta’s path, but the other male simply shrugged.
“Not my business.”
“What are you still sulking for, huh, birdbrain?!”
Katsuki sprang into action, knocking Mineta down with a well-timed stun grenade. He was left rolling on the floor, hands over his eyes, until Ojiro walked over and scooped him up in his tail to restrain him.
“I’m bliiiind!”
Sero and Mina arrived, both panting. The commotion had drawn everyone’s attention: even the rest of the girls had come out from Jirou’s room to watch, and they hovered by the stairs as a group.
Uraraka was still holding a bag of popcorn, and Hagakure, apparently had a skin care mask on. A white holey sheet in the shape of a face floated eerily in mid-air right where her head would be.
Sero looked downright furious. “This guy told me to leave my room unlocked because he said he left his controller there,” he announced to the whole room. “Turns out the little shit was hiding under my bed! With a camera, trying to film us getting naked!”
Mineta rolled his eyes. “I just wanted to see Mina’s boobies! Obviously I was gonna crop out your dick and balls, what’s the big deal?”
Iida made an affronted noise. “How many times have we told you to stop acting this way? You’ve crossed the line, Mineta!”
“Yeah, that’s not cool. It’s also illegal.” Sato moved to open the front door. “You know, maybe you shouldn’t stay here tonight.”
“But where am I supposed to sleep?!” Mineta squealed as Ojiro hurled him out.
“We don’t care! Anywhere but here,” Sato said, shutting the door closed. They could hear weak thumps on the other side, accompanied by more screeching protests, but those were easily drowned out by the class’ collective sigh of relief.
If there’s anything that would always unite 1-A, it was shared disgust at Mineta’s pervy antics.
But the fragile peace was quickly shattered.
“And you still wanna be friends with that guy?” Jirou called to Kaminari, who stayed silent on the couch but shrank back at her words, trying to disappear into the cushions.
Ojiro and Hagakure were having a face-off of their own. Hagakure shifted from foot to foot, looking like she wanted to say something while Ojiro stared back wistfully.
“C’mon,” Jirou said, steering her back up the stairs before she could speak.
With that incident resolved, the students scattered. Eijirou and Katsuki made their way to the fourth floor, and Eijirou was already following him into his bedroom when the blond turned around and stopped him with a palm to his chest.
“Oi, where do you think you're going?”
“You’re sweating, aren’t you?” Eijiro said, one eyebrow raised expectantly. “I thought we were gonna—”
“Doesn’t mean shit. I need to sleep.”
“Oh, okay. Sorry, I just… Isn’t this why you left your keycard in my room?”
“The hell? No, I didn’t. Stop leaving your keycards lying around.”
The door slammed shut in his face. Eijirou stood there, mystified.
What did he do wrong? Katsuki’d started leaking during dinner, so what else was Eijirou supposed to assume, when the signs of his arousal were so distinct?
Admittedly, Katsuki used to only reach that state from having sex. Eijirou wasn’t sure when exactly that had changed, but the thought that only he could tell whenever Katsuki was turned on, even in otherwise non-sexy settings, was kind of… Hot.
Plus, he’d found a keycard on his bed the other day. Sure, leaving it there as an invitation didn’t seem like something Katsuki would do, but who else could it have belonged to? Eijirou’s original and spare were still on his desk, with a third mystery one now beside them.
Weird.
--
“You’re seeing someone.”
It was the last thing he expected to hear from Tetsu, who had decided that now, of all times, was the perfect opportunity to ambush Eijirou. While he was retrieving his personal items from the gym locker.
His response was to laugh, perhaps a bit too loudly.
“What makes you say that?”
“The marks on your back, dude.”
His laughter died abruptly. It was true: there were burn marks in the shapes of miniscule crescents all over his shoulders, from that one time he hadn’t hardened fast enough.
He felt caught, and was desperately thinking of an alibi when Tetsu threw him another curveball.
“It’s Bakugo, isn’t it?”
Eijirou slammed his locker closed.
“No! That’s ridiculous!” Seeing the skeptical look directed at him, he caved. “…Aww, how’d you know?”
“The goofy look on your face whenever you see him. People used to make fun of me for doing the same thing around Kendou.” He hadn’t expected Tetsu’s answer to be so sweet. “That, and they’re literal scorch marks. Only sex with Bakugo could make it look like you fought with a burning cat.”
Nevermind.
“Tetsu,” he said, becoming serious. “Promise you won’t tell anyone, alright? We’re keeping it on the low—”
“Of course, you’re my bro,” Tetsu replied, without hesitation. They fistbumped, both of them beaming at each other. “But you can’t blame me for wanting deets. How long has it been going on?”
Eijirou chewed on his tongue. He really shouldn’t… It was bad enough telling Midoriya…
But Tetsu was one of his closest friends, and he was a nice guy. And maybe he could help with their little dilemma, because their quirks were similar, right?
“…Since right after Kamino.”
“Holy shit. You were hitting it before everyone else?!” Tetsu said, awed, and unexpectedly, Eijirou felt a swell of pride. Yeah! Yeah, he did! Finally, someone else realized it!
Tetsu whistled in amazement, leaning against the locker. “I knew it had to be bullshit when people kept calling you a virgin. How did you have that much self-control to be able to hide something like that for so long?” Eijirou just smiled sheepishly.
It was… Nice, hearing Tetsu vocalize plainly what he’d been experiencing for quite some time.
“Seriously! If I were dicking Bakugo Katsuki, you bet I’d have it tattooed on my forehead. I’d be bragging about it all the way to the moon.”
“Well, he’s very private.”
“So what’s it like?” Tetsu had developed that familiar leer on his face, the one Eijirou had grown sick of, because it was usually traded between people in the midst of prying into each other’s relationships. It felt different, though, almost good in a way, to be on the receiving end of one. “What’s it like, making Bakugo your bitch?”
Pride and guilt warred inside Eijirou as he struggled to answer. Because it was great that, for once, all his experiences were being affirmed instead of laughed at or denied.
But he’d promised not to tell. Though it’s not like he had told Tetsu about Katsuki’s other, more important secret. He was just… Testing the waters. For them to eventually unveil their relationship. Because they couldn’t keep it secret forever, right?
However, on the other hand, he felt awful talking about Katsuki like he was his ‘bitch’, as if Katsuki wasn’t an active participant in their trysts. Hell no, he was anything but. He was enthusiastic and gave as much as he took.
But getting to fuck him, and having that recognized for the supreme achievement it was? Did wonders for Eijirou’s bravado.
So he couldn’t help but bask in it now that there was an opportunity to do so.
“It’s something else. He’s always hungry for it, you know?”
“I bet he’s loud.”
“F-fuck, yeah. Sometimes, I have to gag him to shut him up.”
Wait, what was he saying?! It’s like he’d been possessed! Why was he talking this way, when he’d previously hated whenever his classmates did it? What was it about sex talk that turned people into conceited assholes?
Tetsu’s eyes went so wide that his silver eyelids now looked like gleaming circles. “Damn, really?”
“He gets to take my dick, and I get to put him in his place from time to time. Win-win.”
“Yeah, the quirk sex must be insane. Good Lord.”
“Speaking of,” Eijirou said. “Have you, with Kendou… You know?”
“Yeah. Of course. And, well, don’t tell anyone this, but…” Tetsu began rubbing his own wrist absently. “We had a minor accident the first time. Scared the crap out of me, you know? I turned steel, as in, all of me. Because I thought there would be no issue. Figured I’m mostly smooth when I harden, right?”
Guilt swept over his face. “But… She bled a bit. Apparently when I change, my dick is not as… Polished as you’d expect.”
“Crap,” Eijirou breathed. “Did she turn out okay?”
“Yeah, we saw Recovery Girl, both of us. And you know what the old bat gave me?"
“What?”
“Sandpaper. To file any sharp edges off. That’s right,” Tetsu explained, as Eijirou winced. “I have to sandpaper my dick before using it to fuck. Sharp metallic edges aren’t fun. It sounds horrifying, but, well, it does the job, doesn’t it? But how do you handle yours? You get spiky everywhere. Surely even Bakugo’s not that much of a masochist?”
You have NO idea.
“We’re…” Eijirou gritted his teeth. “We’re working on it, alright?” He noticed that Tetsu’s wrist had subconsciously turned to steel from his ministrations. “Hey, Tetsu… Your quirk has the same strength and durability as mine, right?”
“Yeah…” He eyed Eijirou warily. “Wait, where are you going with this? Just so you know, I’m not into three—”
“That’s not what I mean! I was just, thinking, what if… Okay, it’s better if I show you. Can you keep your hand metal and grab my wrist as hard as you can?”
“Okay.” Tetsu looked skeptical, but did as he was told.
Eijirou took a deep breath. The usual fissures appeared down his arm, but his wrist remained in Tetsu’s grip, which held fast.
“Now let go.”
Tetsu did.
His wrist… Wasn’t as jagged. In fact, it was smooth. Still hardened and not at all like normal skin, but the only ridges in that spot presented as thin lines, marking the in-betweens of Tetsu’s fingers.
“Woah!” Eijirou rotated his hand, admiring the ring of smoothness amidst roughened flesh.
“I’m guessing you’re gonna keep playing with fire,” Tetsu said with a sly grin.
“His explosions have no effect on me, actually.” Eijirou was still staring at his wrist, his mind buzzing with scenarios.
“You know I wasn’t talking about that. He’s always going for number one, isn’t he? So in this case… If he chose you, then he clearly sees you as the best option, right? Be proud.”
Tetsu patted him, making a clunking sound as his steel hand tapped Eijirou’s hard wrist. “Stop looking so unsure of yourself. You’re fucking Bakugo Katsuki! You should be announcing it every time you enter a room!”
“No way,” Eijirou snorted. But he appreciated the words of encouragement. Not only had Tetsu potentially solved his problem, he’d also quelled a lot of his uncertainties.
What a good dude.
Katsuki had chosen him. Eijirou was number one in Katsuki’s eyes, and he was finally going to live up to those expectations… As long as he managed to pull this off.
“Thanks, man. You’re a savior. I’m gonna go ahead, though.”
“Where are you going? Recovery Girl?”
“No,” he replied, his shark-toothed grin matching Tetsu’s own. “The support department.”
--
Eijirou was quick to slip his hands over the blond’s eyes right when he entered the room.
“Kirishima,” he growled. “What stupid shit are you up to now?”
“I have a surprise for you.”
His surprise wasn’t the custom metallic mold stashed under his bed. Hatsume’s newest ‘baby’, that she had cooked up for him in five minutes after he’d made her promise that she wouldn’t tell Iida.
Instead, his surprise was the reason he deliberately kept himself at arms’ length from Katsuki, as it was threatening to rip straight through his shorts. He’d deliberately worn the pair that went with his costume, as it was the only one that wouldn’t tear under the circumstances.
He was hard – yes, in that way – and had been since using the mold, knowing he was going to have to hold it for quite a while. Which wasn't a problem, it was just like keeping a muscle flexed, and he’d managed to do that so far, without a hitch. His dick was so straight and firm that the tent in his pants looked almost comical, erect at the perfect right angle from his torso.
If he had known that fucking Katsuki would require such a keen sense of geometry, he would’ve paid more attention in math. This was going to be tricky. He wouldn’t be able to bend much once he got into position, and shifting his joints would be difficult because he would be inflexible and rocky everywhere.
He would have to minimize contact with Katsuki, lest he scratch him up even more than usual. Contact points between them would be limited to his dick and hands, and maybe his hips too if he was going balls-deep (of course he was).
“I hate surprises,” Katsuki complained.
“You’ll love this one, promise.”
Eijirou started morphing everything except his hands, which were still covering Katsuki’s eyes.
The familiar sound of bone splintering and skin desiccating broke the stillness in an otherwise quiet bedroom. He could hear Katsuki’s breathing quicken and the blond shifted, but didn’t move out from Eijirou’s hold.
Then Eijirou let Katsuki go and changed his hands to match, realizing that this was it. There was no going back, and he wouldn’t be able to speak from now on. Shit. He hadn’t thought about that aspect of it.
He couldn’t even say ‘so, what do you think?’
Katsuki wheeled around, gaped at him, and… Eijirou’s silent question answered was answered when the blond started climbing him like a tree.
“You fucker—”
So much for limiting contact points, he thought, as Katsuki hiked himself up and clung to him. But hell, figures that Katsuki’s experience as an outdoorsman would come in handy. His clothes took the brunt of the damage, leaving his skin unscathed. He clutched Eijirou’s shoulders, locking his legs around the redhead’s middle.
Eijirou didn’t want to grab hold of him with his sharp hands, at least not yet. So he walked to the wall and pressed Katsuki against it, puncturing holes in it with his fingers to trap him there with his body.
“Shit. You can’t even talk. Practically a beast, goddamn—”
Katsuki spoke rapidly. His eyes were moist, and Eijirou was getting a full blast of his cloying fragrance. God, no wonder his room always smelled like Katsuki now.
It took only one claw to tear off the back of Katsuki’s pants. If only he could watch his juices drip to the floor. Wall sex would’ve been nice, too, but he literally couldn’t fuck Katsuki from this angle.
So he brought the blond to his bed and laid him out. Katsuki didn’t put up a fight, didn’t seem to give a fuck about the wet patch growing on the sheets under his pelvis.
The bed creaked very loudly as Eijirou slowly joined Katsuki on it. He prayed it wouldn’t break.
“Lemme see,” Katsuki said, kicking at him until he got the message and sat back on his haunches.
Katsuki crawled between his spread knees. The visual was so exhilarating that Eijirou’s ungues threatened to pierce right through the mattress. His shorts were tugged down.
Surprise.
Katsuki definitely took notice that unlike the rest of him, his dick was similarly metamorphic while retaining an artificial smoothness to it. Eijirou waited with bated breath. Would he mind? Would he see it as cheating?
It was difficult to feel much, but a phantom sensation on his dick made him jerk. Katsuki’s hand closed around his shaft and ran up and down, looking quite small compared to the literal pillar in his grip.
And then Katsuki put his lips over it and swallowed all of it into his mouth, as far as it could go.
“Rrh,” Eijirou grunted, his neck cracking as he looked down. The sight alone was sending him into cardiac arrest even if all he could see was the tumble of Katsuki’s hair. It was true that his dick was probably a bit bigger now from the extra layer of rock, but seeing its size ratio compared to Katsuki’s head was alarming.
“You probably didn’t even feel that,” Katsuki said.
He was smirking as he removed his mouth from Eijirou’s cock, a string of saliva still hanging in between, which sent Eijirou’s arousal spiking. He couldn’t understand why Katsuki taunting him like that only turned him on even more.
I’m so so so fucked.
“Gruh,” he tried to answer instead. And Katsuki actually laughed, before flopping down on his back and cutely splaying himself into an inviting position. His hand was behind his head as he stared enticingly at Eijirou.
“Well? Fuck me.”
Eijirou grabbed a pillow first, and gestured for him to tilt his hips so he could slide it underneath him.
“What do we need a pillow for?”
He wasn’t about to play charades just to explain that Katsuki literally needed to be at the perfect angle to keep Eijirou’s dick from accidentally perforating his intestines, so he just made an impatient noise, and then added one more cushion until Katsuki’s hips were raised at the proper height.
“…Do you want me to get a protractor, too?” Katsuki asked, but he looked curious, amused even. Eijirou emitted a series of grunts to try and simulate laughter, then twisted his fingers into a thumbs up and moved his torso over Katsuki’s, casting the blond in shadow.
His fingers closed, as gently as he could manage, around Katsuki’s bruised and scraped waist. He leaned forward, cock waiting to enter Katsuki’s hole.
Yes, this angle would work, but he would have to hold Katsuki in place and hit precisely the same point again and again.
“Hurry up or else I’ll—”
Eijirou huffed and slid in, and Katsuki’s body accepted it like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Katsuki cried out his name, each syllable a different pitch. His entire body jolted – thank goodness for Eijirou keeping a steady grip – and his eyes closed, lids trembling as a fresh wave of tears poured down his cheeks.
“Oh, G-god,” he heaved, and Eijirou drew back and screwed his dick back in like he was carving Katsuki out from the inside.
And as Eijirou’s claws dug into his hips and ass, Katsuki’s hands twisted the sheets into knots. “Shit shit shit shit shit—“ He transferred his palms to his favorite spot just behind Eijirou’s shoulders, where the skin was less ridged than usual, and his explosions went off. A familiar ringing started in the redhead’s ears, which he’d learned to ignore.
Does it hurt, how does it feel, am I doing this right, he wanted to ask, and Katsuki could read his mind, apparently, because right then, he threw his head back and sucked in his breath with a moan.
“So good—”
And it kinda? Sorta made sense now? Why Katsuki was so into this. With all his limbs and his dick locked into this position, Eijirou was sitting here, stiff as an object and literally harder than diamond. His fingers clamped onto Katsuki's waist, ten spikes hooking into his skin, gripping him in place. He was a fucking machine, drilling Katsuki at exactly the same spot, over and over.
And Katsuki was loving it. His sounds of ragged breathing intertwined with the rhythmic creaking of rock-hard plates all over Eijirou's body.
Eijirou had never felt more like a monster here and now, but in a good way: his power was incomparable, and Katsuki was safe and happy – way too happy – in his clutches.
His girth, which had never been thicker, still glided into Katsuki’s small body with ease. A perfect fit, one he relished as he continually rewarded Katsuki with the modified cock he’d fashioned just for him. Fuck, he could just imagine how stretched out Katsuki’s insides must be, just to accommodate his specially-made dick.
“I love this,” Katsuki said, voice faint and matching the trance-like state of his face. “So much – ugh – Kirishima!”
This is what it took, to have Katsuki’s most honest thoughts spilling out. His confession filled Eijirou with a fresh wave of pleasure and he fucked into the blond beneath him with renewed vigor. Why hadn’t they done this before? Why did he wait so damn long?
He sank into Katsuki, pressing in slowly, as deep, deep as he possibly could go. Katsuki arched off the bed, half-lidded eyes clumped with tears. He was reciting a litany of curses, sending more explosions at Eijirou.
“Fuck – fucking give it to me, every last drop!”
Eijirou would’ve gasped if he could, registering at last that he didn’t have to worry about coming too early this time. Hell, he didn’t have to worry about coming at all.
The pendulum had swung in the opposite direction.
…He couldn’t come. He was literally too hard to.
Could he?
Oh, shit. He’d never thought this far.
What could he do?
Well… Maybe if he…
Concentrating with all his might, he pinpointed the very tip of his length in his mind and… Rippled, smoothened plates – just a few of them – eased back into skin.
Katsuki’s legs quaked around him, body drizzled in sweat and attempting to twist, but Eijirou’s hold kept him firmly in place.
“Oh, fuuuck, it’s moving,” he moaned, eyes rolling back in his head as Eijirou hit him in the spot that turned his cries into one long orgasm.
He pumped into Katsuki, voiding his come just as Katsuki had begged him to.
His jaw broke open and he leaned over, roaring right in Katsuki’s face. It was a guttural noise, like rock sliding against rock. His oversized teeth were inches from chomping off Katsuki’s nose, and he couldn’t help the globs of saliva that dripped all over Katsuki’s face, splashing across the bridge of his nose and marking his reddened cheeks.
There was come all over the cracks of his abdomen. Katsuki had… He had come untouched.
“Knew you could fucking do it,” Katsuki breathed.
In return, he gave another confirmatory grunt, and backed up slightly to check for any damage. From what he saw, his own cock was glistening with slick, but otherwise…
No blood.
What a relief.
Katsuki shimmied down, pulling Eijirou’s dick back in.
“Keep it inside for a bit,” the blond commanded, but he had on one of his rare smiles. Eijirou growled an affirmative.
It was like their first time all over again, sharing an afterglow that left his mind fuzzy and turned Katsuki into a shining, beautiful god.
Katsuki reached up and traced a flat portion of Eijirou’s tooth with his forefinger. There was a sizzling noise. A ribbon of sweet smoke floated and hung in the air, and Eijirou took a deep drag of it, getting that familiar rush.
Suffocating and intoxicating all at once.
--
Things were supposed to improve after having the best sex of their lives.
They didn’t. Instead, Katsuki was more combative. And Eijirou couldn’t understand why.
“Katsuki,” Eijirou said, grabbing the waistband of Katsuki’s pants and pulling them upwards. The blond jumped, turned around and scowled.
“It’s just me, Katsuki,” he murmured. “How come you’re not wearing a belt?” The pants sank to their original place stubbornly, exposing about a fourth of Katsuki’s underwear.
“Broke it.” How do you even break a belt – you know what, he didn’t want to know. But at least it sort of explained why Katsuki was shuffling weirdly around, almost like he were trying to hide a limp. Eijirou had been afraid he might have been the cause, but it was probably due to his sagging pants making it difficult to walk?
“I can lend you one of mine.”
“No need. Don’t wanna have to punch an extra hole in one your shitty belts.” Oh, right. Katsuki’s waistline was unusually narrow, which was why he had a custom belt in the first place. “I’ll just pick one up the next time I go home.”
The blond was sweating profusely again, scrubbing at his face with the back of his arm. Eijirou handed him a handkerchief.
“Hey, if you’re not feeling well, maybe you should skip—”
“I hate him,” Katsuki said suddenly. “I hate him so much.” Eijirou followed the direction of his glare and saw Midoriya on the opposite end of the locker room. His eyes were downcast.
“What happened between you two that other day?”
“Nothing. Let’s get this fucking class over with.”
Their ‘exciting’ task for hero class that day was… To form human pyramids. Even Iida had could no longer come up with excuses for Aizawa’s rationale, so his UA-worship had dwindled as of late.
Eijirou was in a group with Sato, Kouda, Shouji, Midoriya and Todoroki. The three biggest guys took up the first tier, then Midoriya was meant to catapult him and Todoroki onto their shoulders.
Midoriya performed admirably, even if he did grab Eijirou rougher than necessary. He was also suspiciously quiet, minimizing conversation with him as much as possible (maybe he was mad? About Eijirou going Unbreakable?). And when he leapt onto the top of their pyramid, he couldn’t maintain his balance on Eijirou and Todoroki for more than a few seconds.
They fell in a heap, Todoroki crushing Eijirou to the ground. “Hey! Save some of that enthusiasm for the bed, will you?” Eijirou said, trying to free himself from under Todoroki’s weight. The taller male was surprisingly heavy. “You and Midoriya may be getting freaky, but—”
“Hm?” Todoroki got up and offered Eijirou a hand. “Midoriya and I haven’t slept together.”
Aizawa had taken Midoriya aside, presumably to scold him for his lacking performance in pyramid-topping, or something.
“What?” Eijirou blinked. “But he—”
“Well, we tried. But only once. It didn’t go very well. So we haven’t tried since.” Todoroki took a long swig from his water bottle, failing to notice Eijirou’s slack-jawed expression.
“But… Huh?”
“Anyway, just be glad you and Bakugo get to do all of,” Todoroki hesitated. “That. I guess.” He walked off. Eijirou stared after him.
Was it just me or did he sound bitter?
Also, how does he know about me and Katsuki?!
By the time he was changing back into his uniform, his head was spinning. Did he wake up in a bizarro world? Katsuki, Midoriya and Todoroki were all acting unlike themselves, saying things that didn’t make a lick of sense.
He had to be missing something. Something… Crucial, that had changed their whole dynamic somehow.
“Midoriya got to you too, huh?”
Sero jabbed at the bruise on Eijirou’s hip, making him hiss.
“How could you tell? And dammit, don’t do that.”
“Bruising pattern,” Sero said, poking him again and ignoring his yelps of pain. “Midoriya has to avoid over-exerting with his right arm because of the number of times he’s injured it, so his grip is uneven, see? Hence more bruising on the left, much less on the right.”
“I get it, now cut it out!”
“When he grappled me before, I looked like I’d been mauled by a one-armed bear.” Sero finally stopped, his face morphing into a grimace. Then he inexplicably shifted to poking his own cheek.
“Sero, what the hell—” Eijirou, who had finally been able to look at him properly, drew back, pinching his nose. “That smell! Your face!”
“What?”
“It’s all swollen and red! You need to go to Recovery Girl.”
Sero looked contemplative for a moment, then waved a hand. “Nah.”
“Sero!”
“It’s fine, I’ve been putting ointment.”
“Is it working?”
“No, not yet,” Sero admitted.
“Then go to Recovery Girl!” Eijirou’s voice rose, annoyed that they were going in circles.
“You just don’t get it, man.”
“Oh, I just don’t get it? Just because I’m not eating pussy on a regular basis, I can’t tell what an infection looks like?”
“Kirishima.” Sero looked startled by his words. “That’s not—”
“I know a lot more than you think! Dammit, why is everyone acting so weird?”
He was the one who walked off. How things had escalated so quickly, he didn’t know, and that bothered him for quite a while, even hours after.
He’d never fought with Sero before. Or Midoriya. Or Todoroki.
But why did it feel like everyone was constantly at each other’s throats?
--
Something wasn’t right. Agitation was brewing between in 1-A, and Eijirou concluded that it was strongest between him, Midoriya and Katsuki.
Despite Eijirou’s spectacular performance, he and Katsuki had returned to their rut. The sleeping blond was lying next to him, but he couldn’t sleep, still dwelling on the days’ events and what had happened after.
Katsuki had hauled him into his room. And then demanded he get one hundred percent hard again, and Eijirou refused. Because he was afraid he wouldn’t measure up again, because his mind felt too scattered, because Katsuki looked on the verge of collapse (bruised and scratched and possibly limping), and because he couldn’t really perform under all that pressure.
It didn’t matter what the reason was, because Katsuki hadn’t wanted to hear it. They had argued, then despite that they still fucked, but Katsuki had been downright hostile at Eijirou’s preference for gentleness.
“C’mon, prove that you’re not a weak bitch,” Katsuki had said. “You’re strong, aren’t you?” But Eijirou shook his head and came too quickly, and Katsuki didn’t even try to hide his disappointment. He made a frustrated sound, rolled over and went to sleep.
Eijirou gazed at his still form, heart aching. He wasn’t a smart man, but he needed to figure this all out. He had an inkling, that somehow, everything was connected.
So he gathered all the facts, and went through them one by one.
Fact #1: Something had happened between Katsuki and Midoriya
That day that Katsuki blew up in class, the caramel scent had been so strong, it was ridiculous. Midoriya couldn’t have been doing anything during the class itself, but they’d both arrived later than usual, one after the other.
Meaning… whatever it was had taken place right before. And it had angered Katsuki enough to bludgeon Midoriya with a chair.
Katsuki left the class. Midoriya had stayed for a little while, and Eijirou had noticed…
That the scent hadn’t left with Katsuki. That it lingered on Midoriya, and only disappeared when he did, sporting the same rumpled look as Katsuki.
Fact #2: Midoriya lied about having sex with Todoroki
This was what had really thrown Eijirou in for a loop. Because before all of this, he had assumed Midoriya and Todoroki were in a loving, sexually active relationship. That their “study nights” were the same “study nights” he and Katsuki had.
Midoriya had been detailed with their sexcapades, hadn’t he? He always had some story to trade with Eijirou’s, always had a specific answer ready for whenever Eijirou asked. Todoroki moaned Midoriya’s first name to egg him on during sex… Midoriya preferred doggie… Midoriya often used his own quirk to give him a ‘boost’, but was very careful with it.
Would Midoriya really make all of this up just for the sake of a proverbial dick-measuring contest? He seemed to know so much, though… He had obvious sexual experience, and talked about it candidly. Which meant… He was cheating on Todoroki, perhaps?
Eijirou also noted that Midoriya would get this peculiarly blank expression whenever they talked about Katsuki. His smile would disappear and he seemed almost defensive, meaning he wasn’t as alright with them as he was claiming to be. Maybe he had mixed feelings about their relationship and had been trying to mask it all along?
Fact #3: Whatever Midoriya might’ve done, it had hurt Katsuki
It didn’t escape Eijirou’s notice that the side effect of Katsuki’s quirk was so easily triggered now, even in non-sexual situations. Situations that often involved Midoriya – whenever he appeared, Katsuki would sweat buckets. But again, why?
Katsuki also had bruising, and faint marks on his wrists. He was limping. He was jumpy.
Eijirou was reluctant to assume the worst, but…
If Midoriya had somehow… Tried anything… on Katsuki, Katsuki easily would’ve been able to fight back.
Katsuki would be the last person to be overpowered by Midoriya, right? If Midoriya had… (And he couldn’t believe he was entertaining this thought) Made a move…? Katsuki would beat his ass. Surely he wouldn’t… Just… Let it happen?
More importantly, if Midoriya had somehow hurt Katsuki, then Eijirou needed to know now, so he could settle the score, and things could go back to normal.
Katsuki lay on his side. His tanktop was riding up to unveil the white stripe of his lower back. Eijirou watched the shifting of his back with every breath.
Then, he saw it.
A familiar pattern of bruising, concentrated on his left hip, like fingerprints had been embedded in the skin. Lighter on the right side, but still present.
He recalled Sero’s words and frowned, moving to run a thumb over the marks. He couldn’t have given Katsuki these… So how…
Discomfort was worming its way through his body. Eijirou’s blood pounded in his ears, as he struggled to calm himself. This didn’t mean anything. Maybe he had grabbed Katsuki too tightly once?
But he tended to give Katsuki scratches, not bruises.
…He was just making sure.
“Katsuki,” he whispered, trying to shake the blond awake. The person in question grumbled and rolled on his stomach, in an attempt to escape from the offensive touch. “Hey, Katsuki,” Eijirou tried again.
Nothing.
Eijirou raised himself from the bed, and with a sharp exhale, curled his fingers (gently, barely touching) around Katsuki’s hips. The same exact spots where the bruises lay. From this vantage point, the asymmetry was clearer than ever: heavy bruising on the left. Lighter on the right.
No, it couldn’t be. He broke out in a cold sweat. Impossible. Maybe Midoriya and Katsuki had simply fought?
And if ever, IF EVER, it were somehow true, then Katsuki hadn’t done it willingly, right? Maybe a quirk gone awry?
Both Midoriya and Katsuki would never act so out-of-character. They would never mess around behind his and Todoroki’s backs, right? What a joke!
Okay, maybe Midoriya was a little too obsessed with Katsuki’s well-being. But Katsuki hated him!
Bakugo always goes for number one. Tetsu’s words came thundering back to him, sounding more like a condemnation now instead of a compliment… Katsuki liked him best whenever he was at his strongest, ergo Katsuki would only choose the strongest... Person...?
Katsuki sweating constantly around Midoriya… The bruises…
He… Just needed to rule out a certain possibility. Of course he trusted Katsuki, and this would all turn out to be one big funny misunderstanding, no doubt.
But he had to know.
He loomed over the sleeping figure, hands still on Katsuki's hips as he bent his head and whispered into the blond's ear:
“K…Kacchan?”
Katsuki shifted, his eyes still tightly shut. But his lips parted in a barely audible murmur.
“Izu…Ku…”
Notes:
First of all: here's some glorious fanart of the dinner table scene from this chapter, made by the brilliant ferries. Thank you so much!
I'd also like to thank everyone for leaving such lovely comments to my fic. It has been an absolute joy reading your speculation and analyses. I love them! I wouldn't be as motivated without them so I really appreciate everyone for being so sweet. I've gotten great feedback and have managed to apply it to subsequent chapters, so thank you, thank you, thank you so much to the following:
filledyogurt, adfgh, Chibinatalia, PastaPotatoes, HK44, kusuri, Anon, KathyBoug, RinFar, Katcuki, Alttkt, *w*Hewwo, KimaCat, katieh28, Chlo_EEEE21, DolmioPasta, nowiknow;), dethna, Wolfdragonlady, Katsuki90, mimisnusu, Idkeiadh, John1819, Pancaked, blueseagull, archviste, Wolfey
A few have mentioned that I seem to have a preference for DekuBaku and that definitely gave me pause. I do seem to take longer writing Kirishima chapters, probably because I'm more accustomed to writing about pairings with a lot of friction between them. Nevertheless, Kirishima deserves more, and I wanted to prove that I love all my Bakugo pairings equally, so I definitely tried to up my game in this chapter and I hope it worked.
Todoroki's chapter next! We'll get to see what our favorite IcyHot boy has been up to. Will he get a piece of that Bakupie? What will the fallout be like between Deku and Kiri? Stay tuned.
Chapter 6: Todoroki Doesn't Stop Believing
Summary:
Todoroki has had enough.
Notes:
Can I just say I have the best commenters ever? I am constantly astounded by the amount of time and effort so many people have put into expressing their views on the fic.
Reading all the varying interpretations have brought me so much happiness. Honestly, I have reread people’s comments a lot in order to motivate myself to keep writing – hell, I daresay the comments beat out my actual writing and I love it!
Without you guys, the rest of these chapters wouldn’t come out so quickly, so again, thank you, thank you, thank you!
KimaCat, PastaPotatoes, Shoutooooo, warbabyfox, N, HK44, KathyBoug, anime_freak_forever_and_ever, blueseagull, Idkeiadh, DumbassShark, SpiffyCo, dethna, Ando, aa, Kazumii, Alttkt, katieh28, Chibinatalia, nowiknow;), Anon, AkiChan, guest, DolmioPasta, SammyCoreo, You’reMyNicotine, Peer_Gynt, mimisnusnu, Punita25, Kae, Katsuki90, MaybeICanNeverFly, GxKIWIx, Wolfey
Thank you as well to my Discord pals, who also motivate me with their compliments and fucky ideas!
And double-thanks to ferries for producing this brilliant art piece for last chapter!
Kae has also produced this amazing video based on the fic. Thank you for letting me share it, Kae!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Left hand, red.”
Stupid, stupid, stupid – Shouto never thought he would use that adjective to describe hero class, but it was the one word that kept repeating in his mind as he crouched awkwardly on a giant mat, under the sweltering heat of the sun, reaching for the color Aizawa had dictated.
It had come to this:
A 20-person game of Twister. This was what hero class had been reduced to.
They had initially started on the sides of the mat, and were gradually weaving their way to the middle toward the remaining unoccupied circles. There had been some early losses, with Mineta losing three commands in (to the relief of the girls). Perhaps Aizawa’s intent was to weed out the least flexible, and that category grew to include Kouda, Tokoyami, Satou, Kaminari, Kirishima, Jirou, Hagakure and Yaoyorozu.
The eleven people still playing were now left jostling awkwardly against one another for remaining spaces.
“Augh!” Midoriya groaned as he tried to reach over Iida (who seemed to be doing his best impression of a table, which their disqualified classmates couldn’t stop giggling over). But he stumbled and hit the mat cheek-first.
“Midoriya, you’re out.”
“Ah, sorry, Iida, I didn’t mean to bump into you—”
“N-no! Problem!” Iida gasped, struggling to maintain his stance as Midoriya picked himself up and walked off the mat. Kirishima clapped his back and told him it was a good try.
Iida would only be able to hold that pose for one more turn before collapsing onto his back like an upended turtle, and Uraraka would be disqualified too for losing her balance from laughing at him. Aoyama also bowed out, blaming his stomachache.
“Right foot, green.”
“Get your damn tail out of my face, you one-note piece of crap!”
Bakugo looked on the verge of chomping on said tail as its furry tip dangled in front of him. Ojiro apologized profusely, and in his attempt to give Bakugo a wide berth, slipped and hit the floor.
Mina had turned herself into a sort of pretzel but looked completely at ease. Tsuyu resembled a human star, body suspended over the mat by mere inches. Sero was bent awkwardly, his body bowed sideways into an arc, forming an upside-down U.
Todoroki sighed and stretched out his right foot. Compared to the rest, he was secretly relieved that his position wasn’t as ridiculous. He was still trapped in a crouch, only his right leg now stuck out, foot pressing down on the green circle.
“I’m out,” Shouji declared, when he saw that the only available circle would require him to stretch his body over Tsuyu and Mina.
“Aw, you were so close, Shouji!” Said Kaminari.
“Left foot, yellow.”
Todoroki made a displeased noise, but obeyed. This put him much closer to his classmates than he would have liked. It was honestly surprising he’d made it this far, as he wasn’t exactly the most flexible person around. His height might’ve given him a longer reach, although for some reason, it hadn’t benefited his taller classmates.
Aizawa’s newest order had left Bakugo at an uncomfortable position. But his face was still one of grim determination as he straightened his left leg to reach the yellow circle. He had maneuvered himself into a crabwalk, his right foot bent close to his body and arms straightened out under him, supporting his upper torso.
“Right hand, blue.”
Okay… This was tricky. Shouto was next to Bakugo now, doing a sort of sideways plank across the blond’s outstretched right leg. The two girls were tangled up in each other while Sero managed to keep a safe distance from everyone else.
Bakugo’s teeth gnashed together as he threw his right arm out to reach a circle far above his head. The movement forced his back into an uncompromising arch, head tipped back so that his hair was nearly brushing against the mat.
“Right foot, blue.”
“Ooooh, Bakugo’s gonna lose,” Kaminari taunted, after everyone had adjusted except for him.
A slew of curses left his mouth as he eyed the only available circle left. Shouto pointedly looked away, trying to ignore the fact that he was one unlucky command away from ending up in between Bakugo’s legs.
“Shut up, Dunce-face!” Bakugo yelled.
Then he screwed up his face and, to the amazement of everyone in the class, stretched out his leg and planted his foot down on the free spot under Tsuyu.
“Woah—”
“A full split?!”
“No way!”
There were jumbled sounds of amazement. Even Shouto was left awed at the lengths Bakugo would go (literally) to win.
“Everyone shut up, dammit!” His hoarse voice further emphasized the level of strain his body was currently under. “I’m trying to concentrate!” Drops of sweat trickled down his forehead. The tremors in his legs did not escape Shouto’s notice.
“Left hand, yellow.”
When Shouto saw the only choice that was left to him, he almost wanted to quit then and there. Because it was either that or sacrifice his dignity, once again, alongside Bakugo, of all people. Though he figured that nothing would ever top prom in that regard, so, begrudgingly, he went for it.
He knew that by reaching for the yellow circle, he would end up on top of Bakugo. Again. Which he was sort of used to at this point, so he shouldn’t have minded as much. But what he hadn’t anticipated was how the position had him slotting right in between Bakugo’s legs, his pelvis hovering dangerously close to Bakugo’s own.
Which naturally sent their classmates into a frenzy.
“The royal couple back at it again!”
“Pfft, they really – oh, God – they really look like they’re doing it—”
“Why’s it always two guys?!”
Bakugo hissed loudly into Shouto’s ear. “Get off me, you gross bastard—”
“I’m not doing it on purpose,” he growled back.
Bakugo’s cheek was next to his, and it was unusually pink. His eyes were a vivid shade of red, and his hair looked translucent under the sun. Shouto wondered why he hadn’t noticed any of this before, back when a villain had forced him on top of Bakugo. But then again, it was hard to notice the finer details of your classmate when a villain was trying to make pornography of both of you for profit.
“Why do I keep ending up on top of you,” he mused out loud. “This must be the… fourth time, already, I think.”
The villain, prom, grappling, and now this. Yep, four.
“God, you actually kept count? How much are you secretly enjoying this, Icy Hot?” He could hear Bakugo’s labored breathing, feel their chests bumping with each inhale.
“I’m not,” he insisted. The situation was direr than he had previously thought: if he fell now, he would not only lose, but end up brushing certain body parts against Bakugo’s. Certain sensitive ones.
It was times like these that Shouto regretted not going to the gym more. His arms were shaking from the strain of doing what was essentially an extended plank on end, and his lower back ached like hell. At one point, he faltered, body lowering by the tiniest fraction and… Their hips met.
Perhaps it had something to do with Bakugo’s ragged breathing, the warmth of his body, the fact that he was currently spread-eagled and panting under Shouto.
Because Shouto felt himself… Getting… Hard—
In his panic, he thrashed, which turned out to be the worst thing he could’ve done, because his knees hit the mat painfully but the rest of him slammed right on top of Bakugo, who squawked in surprise but miraculously didn’t collapse from the added weight. He stayed frozen, even with Todoroki slumped on top of him.
“ICY HOT—!” Bakugo screeched in indignation.
Shouto’s blunder had set off a chain reaction: “No, no, I can’t—” Sero said, and he fell over laughing at the sight. His laughter infected Mina and she followed suit, bursting into giggles and knocking against Tsuyu, who made a croaking noise as she hit the mat, crushed beneath Mina’s weight.
There were familiar mockeries and cheers from onlookers. Shouto’s brain finally re-coordinated with his body (fuck, his groin had been crushing Bakugo’s) and he clambered off the too-warm blond and got to his feet.
“Ha! I win!” Bakugo gazed up at him, smirking, still holding that same position: sprawled out on the mat with his legs spread, and it was… Maddening to watch.
Shouto was so damn hard that he hurriedly turned around and walked in the opposite direction, praying no one had seen the bulge in his pants.
“Oi, Deku,” he heard Bakugo call out behind him. “Your boyfriend’s got zero stamina!” As everyone laughed, Shouto clenched his fists.
At least it was over.
He could retreat to his room and not have to see the blond until class the next day.
--
Too bad Bakugo had somehow fought his way into Shouto’s wet dreams, too.
He woke up, body scorching and drenched in sweat. His cock throbbed so badly that he threw off the covers and stared down at his lap, horrified.
God, what had he just—
Even his mind was turning traitor, the dream so vivid that the image was burned into his retinas. He could still see it:
Bakugo wearing only his mask, gloves and boots. Staring up at him, eyes striking and red, Shouto falling into their depths—
His cock gave another painful jolt and Shouto grabbed it, furious. What was happening?! His only consolation was that at least they hadn’t been f… Fucking.
He should not be having subconscious thoughts about wanting to see Bakugo practically naked, though, just because of an accidental pressing of body parts the previous day.
Maybe he was just… Sexually frustrated. This would’ve been triggered by anyone who rubbed up against him. Right.
But now, he needed to take care of the problem in his pants. He could think of Midoriya… Only, his mind had so graciously supplied images of Bakugo on its own.
Bakugo kissing him – Bakugo pressed up against the wall – Bakugo under him… Wow, he had much more material of Bakugo than he’d estimated.
Shouto fondled his length, chest tightening with guilt as he brought himself to completion thinking not of his boyfriend but of Bakugo. Even while washing his hands afterward, he felt awful.
Had he… Cheated? On Midoriya, mentally? Was that a thing? It’s not like he had the same wealth of… Images… of Midoriya to choose from.
His memories of kissing Midoriya weren’t exactly masturbation-worthy. He had tried, several times, to emulate the kiss Bakugo had inflicted on him. But Midoriya just always looked flummoxed by his attempts, and not in a wrecked sort of way. More like, as if Shouto had just attempted a backflip in front of him and failed.
It always felt like they were just mashing their faces together, and the discomfort of that coupled with the look Todoroki always received afterward, had dampened his urge to kiss at all.
But that still didn’t excuse the fact that he had… Fantasized about Bakugo. It continued to eat at him, even while he and Midoriya were studying. He was supposed to be reading his math book, but all he could think of was how he had committed a grave sin in their relationship.
He had to say something.
“Midoriya?”
“Yeah?” Midoriya’s gaze lifted from his own book to meet Shouto’s.
He opened his mouth but the words were caught in his throat.
I might have cheated on you in my head. I’ve also been really confused. I want to keep dating you but the world keeps throwing Bakugo onto my lap. What should I do?
But deep down, he knew that mentioning Bakugo in any manner would just bring out the side of Midoriya that he didn’t like: the side that prioritized Bakugo above all. He would end up wanting to hear more about what Bakugo did, rather than how Shouto felt.
A sudden flare of anger rose up within Shouto. Bakugo seemed to take up more space in this relationship than he did.
“I think we should—”
He had wanted to say ‘talk’.
But the phrase ‘break up’ had suddenly floated up as a possibility. Woah, wait a minute—
Why had he jumped to that immediately? The last thing he wanted to do was break up with Midoriya! Because that would mean this relationship would have all been for nothing.
If they broke up, what would happen? Would they ever be able to share what they have now, a comfortable closeness that allowed them to do homework in silence together? Would they avoid each other for the rest of their high school lives?
The unpredictability of it was making Shouto’s stomach do backflips. He hadn’t thought this through. He would… Potentially lose Midoriya, not just as a boyfriend, but a friend. A hero partner. A colleague.
Was he prepared? To look at Midoriya from now on and see his own failure reflected back at him, rather than his safety net?
No.
And if he told Midoriya about his little incident, that could lead to Midoriya breaking up with him.
He resolved to just… Never let Bakugo infilitrate his mind again, and said instead:
“…Would you like to study together thrice a week instead of just twice?”
And ended up letting go of his spare keycard for reasons he couldn’t even remember.
--
Shouto contemplated going to their other friends for advice. But Uraraka might’ve seen it as him rubbing their relationship in her face, and Iida would just label it an inappropriate conversation topic and call it a day.
So when Camie posted in their little groupchat with Inasa (they’d added Bakugo several times but he kept leaving), suggesting they meet up since the two were in town for patrol, Shouto did what he had least expected himself to do, and said yes.
It went south very quickly.
Hell, he should’ve just left the moment Camie handed him one of her shopping bags.
“So? What do you think?” She was posing in her latest outfit in front of a mirror, something she’d called a ‘romper’ but really just looked like a multi-colored pillowcase.
“It’s alright,” Shouto said, for the hundredth time.
“It’s great!” Inasa said, also for the hundredth time, complete with a thumbs up.
“You two are so boring, saying the same things over and over. But fine, I’m getting it!”
She paid, and passed Shouto her newest purchase. He was now carrying at least four shopping bags in each hand, Inasa hauling double that amount in his massive arms and looking quite used to acting as her pack mule.
“Another excellent choice, Camie!” Inasa thundered.
“Camie,” Shouto said, adjusting his grip. His fingers were hurting. “Do we have any plans today other than accompanying you clothes-shopping?”
This reminded him of when he visited Donki with Yaoyorozu, Iida, Midoriya and Kirishima, but sans the joy of seeing themselves in ridiculous get-ups and playing their parts. That had been a nice interlude during a time they were at their wits’ end, desperate to rescue Bakugo.
The memory seemed so far away now. Had he even hung out with Iida and co since then? They’d all retreated into their own relationships, it seems.
“Well, we could always buy stuff for you,” Camie suggested, a finger to her lips. Her gaze turned sly. “So you can dress up for a certain someone who really should’ve been here with us today?”
“I don’t think he cares how I dress,” Shouto said, mind still on that night, and on Midoriya’s ridiculous goatee.
“You’re right. Our loud boy’s not the type to care about that kind of thing, huh?”
Wait… Loud boy?
“So is Bakugo a screamer even in bed?” Inasa bellowed. Shouto’s eyes went wide.
“Wha—We’re not— I’m not with Bakugo! I have a boyfriend.” Nevermind that his declaration seemed more like a convenient excuse than an actual fact these days.
“Aww. Really?” Camie looked skeptical. “But… We heard about your prom hook-up! And the chemistry, bruh!”
“There was no prom hook-up and why— why do people keep saying that,” he muttered.
“Because it was obvious! Even to Inasa!” She elbowed him, and like a wind-up toy, Inasa started talking on cue.
“You were staring at his ass a lot during remedial. I just assumed.”
“I wasn’t staring at his ass. I was staring at his waist.” They both looked puzzled by his words. “What? It’s small. I would’ve noticed it on anyone.”
Camie’s grin turned devilish. “And how many other people’s small waists have you noticed, then?”
Shouto couldn’t answer. Thankfully, she changed the subject instead, but all of his hopes of asking her for advice were effectively dashed now that he knew that she was fully on board the you-gotta-fuck-Bakugo train.
“Hey! It’s almost three, we promised we’d meet up with them at the bowling alley.”
“Them?”
“Just a few other friends. We invited some extra peeps, hope you don’t mind.”
‘A few other friends’ turned out to be a lot of people, some of which Shouto wasn’t particularly happy to see.
There was Shishikura alongside other Shiketsu students, who all cast withering looks at him. And then there was Shindou of Ketsubutsu, who waved and smiled. He was surrounded by a gang of three other boys Shouto had never seen before, all with the same lankiness and air of distrust despite their expressions of indifference. One had his brown hair tied into a ponytail, another had short cropped hair and glasses, and the third was concealed under a hood so Shouto couldn’t see his face.
He was the odd man out, being the only person from UA. But Camie didn’t notice or didn’t care. She was too busy sizing up Inasa as they divided people into teams.
“No wind this time,” she told him.
“Then no illusions!” Inasa shot back.
There were so many people that Shouto figured he could leave and no one would notice. But Inasa put him on his team, and he was first to bowl, knocking down a paltry three pins.
He had just plopped himself down on one of the brightly-colored chairs when Shindou slid into the one next to him. His gang sat right across them, all surveying Shouto with silent interest.
“Well, I’m honored,” Shindou said. “To be able to speak to his majesty once again. The queen decided not to deign us with his presence, though?”
Shouto’s previous encounter with Shindou at prom had left him apprehensive, and those same emotions began to stir within him once more. He really didn’t like this guy.
“What a shame,” Shindou continued, studying his fingernails. “I was hoping to finally ask for his number.” Upon hearing that, Shouto’s apprehension turned into full-blown annoyance.
“Bakugo’s not into this sort of thing,” he said without thinking.
“Oh? And how exactly do you know what he’s into?”
“Of course I’d know, he’s my classmate,” came another snappish retort. Shouto wasn’t sure why he was responding this way, not bothering to hide the fact that he desperately wanted Shindou to shut up.
“That’s all? Are you sure? You were awfully cozy with each other during the dance.”
“He was dehydrated and could barely stand.”
“Nuzzling another person’s neck is a symptom of dehydration?”
“No, but—”
“He knows you have a boyfriend, right?” Shindou had crossed a leg over the other, his elbow resting on it as he propped his chin on one hand. Shouto leaned away from him, bristling. Of all the people to finally bring up Midoriya without being prompted, it had to be this guy? “But he still did that anyway. I wonder why.”
It was Shouto’s turn to bowl again. Unable to focus, the ball ended up in the gutter two seconds after he’d thrown it. No one paid him any mind, though. Camie and Inasa were busy accusing each other of all sorts of tricks.
As he retreated to his seat, Shindou accosted him again, dark eyes boring into his own. “You seem conflicted about something, Todoroki. Care to tell me what’s wrong?”
Shouto hesitated. Then—
“I’m dating Midoriya, but I feel like Bakugo’s wedged himself between us and I still don’t get how exactly that happened.” He frowned. Was he really so desperate for advice that he’d resort to telling Shindou?
Shindou’s eyes sparkled with interest. “I could take him off your hands, if you like. That is, unless you actually like him, and he actually likes you, and Midoriya is quickly on his way to becoming collateral damage?”
“He hates me,” Shouto said. And probably hates you, too – but based on Shindou’s behavior during prom, he seemed to relish Bakugo’s abrasiveness. Weird guy.
“And how do you feel about him?”
There was something disarming about Shindou that he couldn’t place, and it was making Shouto spill details he normally would’ve kept to himself.
“I feel confused and angry toward him a lot. Much of the time, I don’t even want to be around him.”
“If you truly aren’t interested in him like you claim, then why not give me his number, hmm?”
“Because he’s with—” Shouto clapped a hand over his own mouth. That was supposed to be a secret, but he’d almost made the mistake of blurting it out.
“C’mon,” Shindou urged. “All I want is his number. You don’t want Bakugo meddling anymore, right? I could keep him distracted while you and Midoriya get the happy ending you deserve.”
White hot jealousy pierced through him, as he was reminded of all the occasions Bakugo had gotten in the way. Prom, the kiss… Shindou was right. If Bakugo was ‘meddling’ to the point that he was invading Shouto’s dreams, then he couldn’t have that happening again.
“Fine, then.”
He pulled out his phone. What was the harm? Bakugo could just block Shindou if he got annoying, right? It wasn’t like Shouto was betraying Bakugo or anything, and even if he was, well, how many times did Bakugo mess with him just for kicks? He was just giving back, in a way.
And if Shindou was deluded enough to think he could actually win Bakugo over, well, that was his problem.
“As you said, you’ll ‘take him off my hands’. So do it.” He’d like to see him try.
Shindou beamed. “With pleasure.”
--
It was sunset as he walked home. His body felt heavy with disappointment – nothing majorly bad had transpired, but with the way things had progressed, it had ultimately been a waste of time. Inasa’s team lost (mostly because of him), so the combined forces of Shiketsu and Ketsubutsu couldn’t resist the urge to trash-talk UA, taking advantage of Shouto being vastly outnumbered.
He was passing Musutafu police station just as a familiar figure was leaving it. Shouto recognized who it was, and quickened his pace.
“Heyyy, it’s you! Fire boy!”
Too late. It was the officer who’d interrogated him post-prom, the one who liked to interject slang in all the wrong places.
“Where’s your boyfie?” Here we go.
“Bakugo’s not— I mean–“ Admittedly, he’d walked right into that one. The officer laughed as Shouto blushed. “He’s back at the dorms. My actual boyfriend.”
“Still haven’t shacked up, then? But you two have so much—”
“Please don’t say ‘chemistry’.”
“Well, it’s true.”
“What does that even mean?” Shouto burst out. “He hates me, and I—I don’t like him that way. Why would we be together if we don’t get along?”
“If you don’t get along, why do you spend so much time together to the point that you share a police record?”
“I… What.”
“The Bakugo-Todoroki file,” The officer explained, hand cupping the side of his mouth like he was letting Shouto in on a secret. “You’re both always coincidentally at the wrong place at the right time. Kamino Ward, two targeted small-time villain attacks, foiled robbery, and prom.”
Shouto didn’t know what to say. The officer wasn’t wrong, but…
“If he hates you, why does he hang around you so often? Finding ways to get your attention, maybe?”
He had no idea how to explain that Bakugo getting kidnapped and causing a national crisis was not a ploy to ‘get his attention’. Was this really the guy whose job was to investigate crimes? Because his faith in the police force was rapidly dwindling.
“You’ve – you’ve seen it yourself, alright? He’s always yelling at me,” Shouto insisted. The officer simply laughed harder.
“So does my wife. You get me, fam?”
“It’s not like that.”
“Uh-huh. Hey, you know what? Since you seem to be a magnet for trouble, have this. Easier for you to get in touch with me in case shit goes down.”
He pulled out his wallet and thrust out his business card. It read ‘Officer Nishitera Shinsuke’ in bold letters, followed by a contact number.
“Yeet,” Officer Nishitera said as Shouto took it hesitantly.
“…Thanks?”
“Just don’t let me catch either of you for public indecency, eh?” He strode off, laughing to himself.
Shouto resumed walking.
Ridiculous. As if his day couldn’t get any worse, a random policeman had ambushed him to try and plant more doubts in his head. Bakugo liking him? Bullshit.
He stopped mid-step.
But Bakugo had kissed him, hadn’t he? Leaned his head against Shouto’s neck? Those things, he’d definitely done on purpose. And those actions had definitely caught someone’s attention. That someone was—
Midoriya.
Bakugo had addressed Midoriya right after each incident. Every single time. Shindou’s words from earlier replayed in his head: “He knows you have a boyfriend, right? But he still did that anyway. I wonder why.”
It was a lightbulb moment, one that had Shouto’s heart and mind racing. His legs followed suit, and before he knew it, he was sprinting toward the dorms.
It all made perfect sense:
Bakugo… Had feelings for Midoriya.
Therefore… He was trying to seduce Midoriya away from Shouto!
Minutes later, he was pounding on Bakugo’s door.
He let out an annoyed huff, irritated by the lack of response. His fist was ready to knock on the door again when it finally opened, and a bushy head poked out.
“Who the fuck—”
“No matter what you d— uh,” Shouto cut in, but then faltered as he caught sight of Bakugo.
He had expected to sound bad-ass, or protective, or threatening, or a combination of the three. After all, he was here to defend Midoriya’s honor. But he hadn’t expected Bakugo to confront him looking like this.
It was Bakugo’s fault for using such underhanded tactics to throw Shouto off his game. He was standing there, shirtless, with very obvious scratches and bruises on his hips. His kiss-bitten, swollen mouth was terribly distracting, and so were his half-lidded eyes. Not to mention all the marks decorating his shoulders. And that’s when Shouto was reminded of how enthusiastic Kirishima was at marking things.
Bakugo was in front of him, freshly-fucked. Was he glowing?
…Yep, he was glowing. His sweat apparently had the side effect of lighting up his chest and stomach. It was practically blinding.
And holy shit, were those bite marks around his nipple? Shouto felt his face heating up. He didn’t even know that guys could do… that to other guys. Kirishima was fucking crazy.
Shouto took a deep breath, sliding his gaze upward.
“N-no matter what you do,” he tried again. “Midoriya’s never gonna— never gonna want you. Leave him alone.”
His voice cracked in several places, so his threat came out sounding more like a whimper, or a plea.
Bakugo fixed him with a piercing stare, and Shouto glared back. He waited for the blond to throw a punch, or start screaming. Anything but the cold laugh that burst from his lips.
“Fuck,” Bakugo exhaled. The smile on his face was deranged, familiar to Shouto as the one that usually preceded a multitude of explosions. “You’re such a fucking idiot.”
Shouto couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly off.
“Hey, dumbass,” Bakugo said, cocking his head to the side. The action inadvertently exposed a line of hickies on his neck (just like prom). His voice was low, dangerous. “Maybe figure shit out first before you come to me and start flapping your mouth?”
The door slammed shut right in Shouto’s face.
--
Another day, another squabble.
The elevator doors opened and Shouto was taken aback by the sight that greeted him. Kouda was the last person he’d expected to be involved in this sort of mess, but he stood cowering, his rabbit clutched in his arms as Kaminari advanced toward him.
“Oh, you think you’re so tough?!” The blond was yelling, rage twisting his features unpleasantly. “You ain’t shit! Now you’re quiet when it’s convenient for you, huh? Stay away from my girlfriend, Rock-boy!”
Jirou grabbed hold of Kaminari’s arm, and was trying to pull him back.
“Kaminari, he was just apologizing…”
“Apologizing? I saw what happened! He gave you flowers and you hugged him! So, what, I can’t talk to girls but you can just hook up with whoever—”
“We weren’t ‘hooking up’, Christ!”
The scene unfolding was so foreign to him that Shouto didn’t know what to do. The Kaminari currently arguing with a tearful Jirou was far removed from the Kaminari who once woke him up pleading for a way to help his girlfriend. How had things gotten bad this quickly?
The other students present seemed reluctant to confront Kaminari as well. Sero (his face strangely puffy) and Mina hovered close to the front door, unsure of whether they should get involved.
“For fuck’s sake, Kaminari! Give it a rest!”
Kirishima had just come down the stairs, looking worse for wear. His uniform was un-ironed, red hair limp in some areas rather than spiky all over.
“Stay out of this, Kirishima,” Kaminari turned, his nostrils flaring. “First you take it out on Sero, now me? You’re a virgin, so it’s not like you'd understand—”
“I was never a fucking virgin, dumbass! Go to hell!” Kirishima yelled, and then stomped through the front door without another word.
There was complete silence for a few seconds.
“…Well, shit,” Sero said.
“Is it just me or did he sound exactly like Bakugo,” Mina whispered.
“Kaminari, please get a hold of yourself.” Jirou pressed herself closer to Kaminari, maintaining her hold on his arm. “Kouda was saying sorry because his rabbit got into my room and chewed on my electric guitar cord.”
“Then that rabbit has got to fucking go,” Kaminari growled.
Said rabbit jumped out of Kouda’s arms and ran.
“Oh, no you don’t! I’ve had enough of that thing! Destroying! Everyone’s! Shit!” The electricity crackling in his fingers promptly died out as Shouto froze his hand.
“Come ba— What the hell, Todoroki? Stay out of—”
“Heroes don’t hurt animals, Kaminari.” Yaoyorozu said. Where she had come from, Shouto didn’t know, but she had replaced Jirou’s hold on Kaminari with her own, her hand encased in a rubber glove.
“Heroes don’t yell at their girlfriends and threaten their classmates, either. You’re not acting like yourself, so stay here and think about what you’ve done before joining us in class. Alright?”
Mina and Sero stayed to calm Kaminari down, leaving Shouto, Jirou and Yaoyorozu to trudge toward Gamma Gym together.
“Sorry for disturbing you all,” Jirou said, lowering her head. Yaomomo chastised her for apologizing but her face stayed gloomy. “I can see why you don’t date, Yaomomo. At this rate, Todoroki and Midoriya will be the only couple left.”
“Why do you say that?” Shouto asked.
“You two are the sweetest guys in class,” Jirou answered bitterly. “What could possibly make you hate each other?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you two last all the way past graduation,” Yaoyorozu said, smiling at Shouto. “I was skeptical at first, but you convinced me. You’re good together.”
Shouto couldn’t understand it, how all the blunders he’d committed while ‘dating’ Midoriya had somehow translated into them being destined to be together forever. Instead, he tried to divert the attention away from himself.
“Yaoyorozu, does Jirou know about your crush on…?” He purposely let his voice trail off, and hid a smile as Jirou looked back and forth between them in surprise.
“Wait, you have a crush?!”
“Todoroki!” Yaoyorozu groaned, as she now had to contend with Jirou’s efforts to extract Awase’s name from her.
--
The good news was that they could finally use Gamma Gym again. The bad news was that Aizawa’s torture wasn’t over: for hero class, they were to play a game of quirkless dodgeball.
Their team assignments had been posted on a piece of paper by the gym entrance.
Team A: Hagakure, Iida, Ojiro, Tokoyami, Tsuyu
Vs
Team B: Aoyama, Mineta, Sato, Shouji, Yaoyoruzu
Team C: Jirou, Kaminari, Kouda, Mina, Sero
Vs
Team D: Bakugo, Kirishima, Midoriya, Shinsou, Todoroki, Uraraka
Shouto stared at it, mystified. Beside him, Mineta did a stellar job at vocalizing his exact thoughts:
“What’s Aizawa playing at? Putting couples together in the same team? All the strongest guys on one team, plus an extra teammate?!”
The matches were to take place concurrently at different parts of the gym, with theirs was relegated to the far end. The other team (sans Kaminari) was already gathered by the opposite wall. Shouto jogged toward his teammates, who were deep into discussion.
“We’ve got an advantage with six versus five,” Shinsou said.
Bakugo, who was sitting on the floor, rolled his eyes. “Please. You could drop dead two seconds into the match and we’d still win.”
“That’s… Reassuring?”
“I don’t understand why Aizawa would do this. It’s really unfair to them.” Midoriya said.
“Yeah, and Kouda and Kaminari and Jirou all fought this morning,” Uraraka added. “Not to mention the state of Sero’s face. He’s practically blind.” They all turned their heads to watch him.
Sero’s face was so swollen that he didn’t notice Kaminari approach until the blond tapped him on the shoulder. Jirou and Kouda edged backward with Kaminari’s arrival, dispersing their team.
“W-who cares who we’re fighting, huh? We’ll just have to spread out, okay, Kirishima?” Bakugo looked at the redhead, who was standing apart from them, staring at the floor. “…Kirishima?”
“Huh. Yeah,” Kirishima replied. He wasn’t smiling.
Shouto and Midoriya shot each other uneasy looks.
Aizawa arrived to place five balls in a straight line between the teams. Shouto pretended not to notice how Bakugo took an extraordinarily long time getting to his feet, and was sweating bullets despite the relatively cold temperature of the gym.
Maybe he was just having a bad morning?
When the whistle blew, they ran for the balls. Shouto felt awful… For the other team, because they easily seized all five. The tables turned quickly, however, as only Shinsou was able to knock Sero out. The rest missed, and Team C was gathering the balls and getting ready to throw them back.
Guess it was an off-day for all of them.
“Kirishima, Kacchan, you stay on the left with Shinsou,” Midoriya said.
“Don’t tell me what you do, you stupid nerd—” Bakugo lunged and caught the ball thrown at him. Ending up on his knees, he moved to get up, ball tucked under one arm, but the hand he’d pressed to the floor to brace himself slid out from under him, causing him to fall sideways and hit his head.
“Bakugo,” Shouto said, extending his hand. “Are you oka—”
“Yes-I-am-fine-dammit-quit-asking!” Bakugo clambered to his feet, and threw the ball one-handed to knock Jirou out of the game.
“The hell’s his deal,” Shinsou muttered.
“I was just making sure, you know,” Shouto called at the blond’s retreating back, regretting having asked. And to think people kept implying they would somehow ‘work well’ together.
Bakugo turned his head and sneered at him. “The only thing you have to make sure of is that you don’t throw this match as usual. I’ve got my eye on you.”
Shouto sighed. “Typical.”
“Guys, guys! We’ve barely played and we’re already fighting!” Uraraka cried out. “This is what Aizawa was expecting, so everyone calm down.”
“I am fucking calm, okay?!”
“This is pointless,” Kirishima said uncharacteristically.
“What crawled up your ass, Shitty Hair?”
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?”
Bakugo and Kirishima… Arguing?
“Hey, losers! We just knocked all of you out! Pay attention!” Sero called.
“WHAT?”
Round two was just as bad.
No one from either team seemed capable of giving their all. Jirou and Kaminari’s voices grew louder as their apparent strategizing had devolved into another quarrel.
Kirishima had checked out completely, and was just walking around throwing people nasty looks. Midoriya was barking out suggestions that went ignored. Bakugo was constantly fumbling saves – he would swear loudly as yet another ball slipped out of his hands. It’s like they’d been coated in butter.
Bakugo’s behavior was reminiscent of prom… Which wasn’t a good sign. But Shouto didn’t dare ask about his well-being anymore, because he’d just get chewed out again.
“Oof,” Shouto grunted, as a ball bounced off his chest. Kouda waved shyly from the other end. He waved back and was about to head to the sidelines when he saw Bakugo and Midoriya collide in pursuit of the same ball. Bakugo hit the floor for the nth time that day.
“Kacchan!” Ignoring the blond’s protests, Midoriya quickly hauled him to his feet.
Shouto found himself being shoved out of the way, by Kirishima of all people, as the redhead approached the two.
“Get your fucking hands off of him,” he growled.
“Huh?”
“You heard me, Midoriya.”
Knowing that something was definitely not right, Shouto changed course and walked over to join them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Uraraka and Shinsou doing the same.
“Kirishima… Stop,” Bakugo said, his voice unusually hoarse. His eyes darted between Midoriya and Kirishima, who were sizing each other up, and it looked… Downright wrong, seeing the two most jovial guys in their class ready to tear each other limb from limb.
Shouto didn’t have a clue as to what was happening. But apparently Bakugo did, because he looked like he was about to faint on the spot.
“Not here, for fuck’s sake—” Bakugo said, then made a frustrated noise as he scrubbed (what appeared to be) tears out of his eyes.
“See what you’ve done?” Midoriya growled at Kirishima. “You’re making Kacchan cry.”
“I’m n-not fucking crying!” Bakugo insisted, but it was a lie; he was practically hyperventilating, eyes bloodshot. And a familiar, telltale scent was drifting through the air.
“What’s happening?” Shouto heard Shinsou murmur behind him.
“What’s going on?” Mina yelled from across the court. “Why aren’t you playing?”
No one moved.
“When was the first time, huh?” Kirishima hissed, in a voice that didn’t sound like his own. His teeth glinted menacingly. “Tell me, Midoriya, you traitorous scummy bastard. When?”
Midoriya looked unfazed by the insults. His expression remained blank, unsurprised.
Had he been expecting this?
“Kirishima. Calm down. It’s not what you think—”
“DON’T FUCKING TELL ME IT’S NOT WHAT I THINK, I KNOW WHAT YOU DID TO HIM, I SAW THE BRUISES WITH MY OWN EYES!”
The entire gym had gone silent. There were no more sounds of balls being bounced, or shoes skidding against the floor.
Kirishima turned to Bakugo now, with tears spilling down his face.
“Tell me you didn’t do what I think you did,” he pleaded. “Tell me it was all him, Katsuki. Please.”
“Katsuki?” Uraraka squeaked.
“Kirishima, just—” Bakugo’s panicked gaze flitted from Midoriya to Kirishima. “Just shut up for a minute, okay? We’ll talk about this later—”
Shouto never thought he’d see the day wherein Bakugo would be trying to calm down a raging Kirishima.
“How many times?” Kirishima snarled. “Katsuki?!”
Bakugo went quiet. His eyebrows were pinched together, face pained and shining with sweat.
“…You don’t—You don’t know?”
“Kirishima, what are you talking about?” Shouto frowned. Their conversation was sounding awfully like something out of a soap opera. Was this why they’d been fighting since earlier? But why was Midoriya involved…?
“You don’t know either, Todoroki?” Kirishima let out a harsh laugh. “Well then, here’s today’s PSA brought to you by Red fuckin’ Riot. Ever wonder why you and Midoriya never fucked?”
No, Shouto had never wondered that. He knew why: they just weren’t interested in sex. He was about to say so, but Midoriya spoke first.
“Stop this. Now.”
“No, no, no, your boyfriend definitely deserves to know!”
“Know what?” Shouto asked.
“The reason why Midoriya never tried to fuck you is – get this – because he—”
“Kirishima!” Midoriya’s body crackled with energy, but Kirishima pointed a finger at him as his voice continued to rise.
“—Because he and Katsuki have been FUCKING THIS WHOLE TIME! BEHIND OUR BACKS!”
“M…Midoriya?”
He stared at his boyfriend, silently asking for help, or confirmation, or denial, or anything. But Midoriya was avoiding his eyes in favor of giving Kirishima the most venomous look he could muster.
“Fuuuuck my life…” Bakugo had bowed his head and was pressing his face into his open hands, muttering angrily but refusing to look at anyone.
“Midoriya, is… Is that true?”
They ignored him, continuing to act like his presence was irrelevant, even though he was the boyfriend of the accused, even though he just found out that he'd been… Cheated on, too.
“LOOK, THEY’RE NOT EVEN TRYING TO DENY IT!”
“It’s not Kacchan’s fault,” Midoriya said. “Leave him alone, Kirishima, he didn’t—"
“Stop!” Bakugo suddenly yelled. “Fucking SHUT UP!” Despite his impaired coordination, he swung his fist at Midoriya.
“AAARGH!”
An unfamiliar yell that turned out to be his own echoed throughout the gym as Shouto tackled Bakugo to the floor.
“Kacchan!” Midoriya shouted.
“Don’t ‘Kacchan’ him! Worry about your own boyfriend!” Kirishima roared back, and based on the cracking and thumping sounds, they had come to blows as well.
For the fifth time in his life, Shouto found himself on top of the blond…
But this was the first time he’d ever felt the urge to fuck him up.
“Why is it always you?!” he yelled. Even in his affected state, Bakugo was able to block his punch with a slippery hand. Shouto pulled his arm out of the loose grip and used his right hand to freeze him in place.
Drops of sweat were collecting on Bakugo’s eyelashes. Screaming through his teeth, explosions burst from his palms to counter Shouto’s ice.
A few feet away, Midoriya and Kirishima hurtled toward each other.
“You started this! With that dare!”
“I dared you to kiss him not fuck him, you piece of shit!”
There was a rumbling noise as Kirishima turned Unbreakable and charged toward Midoriya. Shouto was still pelting Bakugo with blows, fire and ice and whatever else he could throw at him.
“Fuck off, this isn’t about you – Kirishima!” Bakugo was trying in vain to throw Shouto off. His gaze kept flickering to the other two.
“Of course it’s about me,” Shouto hissed. “You took Midoriya from me.” Fortunately for him, Bakugo couldn’t maintain a firm grip on anything. He failed to subdue Shouto’s hand, and could only grit his teeth and snarl as Shouto’s palm hit his chest and began to cover it in a sheet of ice.
A black thread wrapped around Shouto’s wrist and pulled it back. He whipped around. Midoriya had one arm raised in front of him, maintaining his distance from Kirishima with a second thread of Black Whip shoving the redhead back.
Shouto grasped the tendril with his left hand and it went up in flames. Kirishima treated the other thread like a rope, using it to tug Midoriya closer until he was within reach. Then he punched him with a fully hardened fist. The impact produced a sickening crack, causing Uraraka to scream.
The simultaneous assaults had Midoriya crying out in pain. His whips vanished and he staggered backward. Lightning enveloped his body, and he was about to charge Kirishima again when more tendrils – gray this time – wrapped around all four of them, wrenching them apart.
Aizawa was scowling, eyes aglow and hair upturned. His capture tape tightened around Shouto and Midoriya, while Shinsou had Kirishima and Bakugo coiled in his.
“Well,” Aizawa said, voice remarkably calm. “Guess these stupid games finally worked.”
--
Shouto knocked on Midoriya’s door, dreading the conversation that was about to happen. It opened slightly, and a green eye stared at him through the small gap.
“Midoriya… Let’s talk.”
He didn’t bother sitting down once he entered the room. Midoriya was still in his gym clothes, one of his cheeks heavily bruised.
“Todoroki, I’m so—”
“Scratch that,” he said, holding up a hand. “Let me talk.” To his credit, Midoriya fell quiet.
“I’m supposed to break up with you. But you’d already broken up with me in your head a long time ago, didn’t you?”
Midoriya appeared to be choosing his words carefully. “You know I’ve always cared about you.”
“You did. Just not enough to avoid cheating on me, I guess.” Midoriya lowered his gaze to the floor.
“The truth is, the main reason I chose to date you is because I believed you were the safest choice. You were the opposite of everything I’d ever known with the family I grew up with: kind, selfless, calm. I thought you would be the last person on earth who could make me feel pain. Now I realize that maybe I was stupid to build a relationship off of that alone.”
Green eyes met his own once more. “For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry I hurt you, Todoroki.”
Shouto felt nothing.
“One last question,” he said. “All I want to know is… Why? Why him?”
“Be-Because…” Midoriya’s shoulders stiffened, like he was trying to stop himself from shrugging.
“It’s Kacchan.”
He hated that he understood perfectly well what Midoriya had meant.
--
He’d missed dinner, having holed up in his room until everyone had gone to bed. But now that he was free to use the kitchen, Shouto found himself without an appetite, wandering aimlessly through the common area instead. He ended up checking his mail out of habit, and to his utter bemusement, realized he’d received the box of All Might chocolates at last.
Only, the box was half-crushed. And the flavor was wrong. They had sent him the ‘spicy’ version.
Shouto sat at the empty dining table, his elbows propped up on it with the box sitting between them. The kitchen door opened and he looked up in surprise. Satou came out, bearing a tray full of multi-colored round pastries.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to bother you,” Satou said, flustered. “It’s just… Midnight baking urges, you know? I’ve been smelling a sweet aroma lately, like, all the time. Even in class. I hope it isn’t just me going crazy.”
“It’s not you, don’t worry,” Shouto replied. Satou set the pastries down on the table, and eyed the All Might-shaped box.
“…Are those for Midoriya or…?”
“Yes,” he said listlessly. “No… I don’t know anymore.”
Satou sat down in front of him. “I’m sorry about what happened. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really, no.”
“Alright. I can respect that.”
There was a moment’s pause, before Shouto found himself rambling. “I guess it’s not that I feel hurt. I just feel empty.”
“It’ll fade in time.”
“How do you know?”
“Happened to me. Dated someone in Management, but we eventually drifted apart. Got busy with school.”
“You dated…?”
Satou grinned at him. “Yeah. Kept it a secret.”
“Why’d it end, then, if nothing went wrong?”
“Sometimes a relationship still ends, even if it's no one's fault,” Satou said. “We’re still friends, actually.” Shouto frowned. But… why would something end, if there was no direct cause?
Then he considered it. If there had been no big fight scene, no revelation, no dramatic reveal of any affairs, no betrayal… Would he and Midoriya have lasted?
“It’s nice you’re still friends with her,” he said, and bitterness tugged at his heart at the impossibility of Midoriya and him ever rebuilding their friendship.
“Him.”
“Oh.” Shouto’s eyes widened “Oh.”
“Yeah,” Satou said, unfazed. “Girls are great, too, though. So there’s that.”
He stared down at the table, wishing he could have what Satou had. He hardly knew Satou, but envied how self-assured he came across, how he knew how to end relationships quietly, without notice. While Shouto had rushed into a relationship, and now he was paying the price.
But, he thought angrily, had he really deserved this? To be cheated on, and have it revealed in such a public, humiliating way? Furthermore, was he even surprised by the outcome? And the painful answer was: not really, given how terribly their relationship was going.
Devoid of passion. Devoid of… Chemistry. Everyone had been calling it out from the start, and he had ignored it, assuming if he tried hard enough, things would be okay.
“Hey Todoroki, have you ever tried a macaron?”
“No, and I’m not too fond of sweets.”
“C’mon, how will you know if you like it if you don’t try it?” He pushed the tray forward. Shouto picked a blue one and took a bite. “So, what do you think?”
“Sweet.” he said, chewing slower once he got to the filling. “Surprisingly good.”
“Thanks. I wish I could say something more helpful.” Satou looked apologetic, as he pulled the tray back toward himself. “Want my honest opinion, though? I think you should stop overthinking. Sometimes it’s just better to do things based on instinct.”
Shouto blinked. “Instinct?”
“Yeah. Just… Do anything you feel like doing, fuck the consequences or whatever.” He tossed three macarons in succession into his mouth and brushed off his hands before continuing.
“Like me. I just got out of bed in the middle of the night with the urge to make macarons. So I went and did it. I didn’t think ‘oh, what if I don’t have enough flour’ or ‘oh, what if they turn out horribly’ or ‘oh, what if I’m too sleepy to focus in class tomorrow’. I relied on gut feel and now I have a plate of delicious macarons and I got to share a conversation with one of the coolest guys in class.” He grinned.
Shouto could not find it in himself to smile back. He settled for saying “You’re also pretty cool, Satou,” while nodding approvingly.
--
He hardly slept.
The days’ events simply replayed in his head, yet he was unable to arrive at some big conclusion. He’d spoken to two people, Midoriya and Satou, but felt increasingly confused by both encounters. There was no breakthrough like he’d been hoping for. The assorted ball of emotions in his chest could not be untangled no matter who or how many prodded at them.
What do you do when you just find out you were cheated on all throughout the entirety of your relationship, which you admittedly only entered because it was with the person least likely to hurt you?
What do you do when every time you think of your (ex)-boyfriend, you end up thinking of the guy he cheated on you with instead?
…What do you do when you both dislike and desire the one person who ruined your relationship from the get-go?
Shouto pulled his drawer open and laid the pictures out on his desk, of him and Bakugo dancing. At the time, he was annoyed that Bakugo kept supplanting Midoriya in every thought and memory. Now he wanted to punch his past self, because all he’d done was complain the whole night but looking back at these photos, he felt an odd sort of warmth.
He stared at the group picture, with all four of them getting along, enjoying each other’s company.
Midoriya, who made him feel peaceful, secure, hopeful. At least until recently.
Bakugo, who triggered anger, envy and desire – emotions he’d been pushing away because he’d always associated them as negative, due to Endeavor.
Kirishima, who’d opened the floodgates, and dealt with the betrayal by jumping into an outright brawl whereas Shouto sat around this whole time doing nothing.
It was odd, comparing their images in the picture with how they’d all acted the previous day. In the same place, too – Gamma Gym – only the dynamics were completely different. Being around Bakugo had transformed the three of them into rage-filled monsters.
But then Shouto had to remind himself, was this really all Bakugo’s doing?
He found himself folding the photo in such a way that Midoriya was cut out from between them, and that he was standing next to Bakugo instead.
And then one small detail caught his eye: Midoriya’s fingers curled around Bakugo’s waist.
He slapped the photo down on the desk and groaned.
…God, how could he have been so stupid?!
His emotions were a mess. Everything was so muddled. He couldn’t trust his own thoughts, as regret and want screamed at him from opposite directions.
Instinct. Fuck the consequences.
It scared him. Because instinct had been telling him to do one thing for ages, and he’d willfully ignored it up to now.
--
Shouto was tired of staring at people’s doors.
He didn’t have to wait long this time, though. It opened, and Shouto immediately said “I need to talk to you."
Bakugo looked irritated as he stepped out and shut the door behind him. The lines under his eyes indicated that he hadn’t been sleeping well either.
“Let me guess, you're here to break up with me, too? Should I really have to tell you that you and I were never dating?”
Shouto refused to rise to the bait.
“You piss me off so much.” This took Bakugo aback, but before he could respond, Shouto went on. “I haven't been able to get you out of my head.”
There was a flicker of recognition in those red eyes.
“I wondered why Midoriya was so obsessed with you. It started to infect me too, yet I couldn’t stop. Because that’s what you do, isn’t it? Burrow into people’s heads like a screwworm—”
Bakugo snorted. “Holy shit… If this is your idea of flirting, no wonder your relationship crashed and burned.”
“Shut up. Let me finish.”
Shouto took a deep breath.
“I’m such an idiot. How did I not notice it sooner? All Midoriya ever talked about was you. ‘Kacchan’ this, ‘Kacchan’ that. It made me so angry, but you know what pissed me off the most?”
“That you were dating a fucking loser?”
“That Midoriya had a point. I can’t blame him for being honest with himself when I’ve been suppressing the same thoughts for so long.”
He rarely used his height to his advantage, but at that moment, he had never felt more satisfied at being taller than the blond, who had to tilt his chin to maintain eye contact as Shouto drew closer.
“You told me that once I figure this ‘shit’ out, I should come to you. Now I’m here. And after what you did, I figured we both need to let out a bit of steam.”
“Now you’re just being—” Bakugo’s gaze shifted to the left, toward Kirishima’s door. He took a step back. “Stop fucking with me and go deal with your co-dependency issues by yourself, weirdo.”
He was acting cagey, but the drop of sweat trickling down the line of his jaw was a dead giveaway.
“I’m not fucking with you. You’ve always told me to give it my all, right?” Shouto leaned forward, lips dangerously close to the blond’s ear. “All that talk about our chemistry and now, of all times, you want to back out?”
Complete silence, apart from Bakugo’s sharp exhale. He stood there, unmoving, while Shouto’s lips twisted into a smirk against his cheek.
“This time, I swear. I’m not gonna half-ass this.”
Bakugo scoffed.
“Yeah, ri—”
Shouto kissed him.
Softly at first, then Shouto’s hands roamed down his back and tightened on his hips, jerking them flush against his own. A few seconds passed, filled with frightening uncertainty wherein Bakugo didn’t react.
But when Shouto pressed his cold tongue against his lips, Bakugo’s arms wrapped around Shouto’s neck and they were kissing harder and deeper. He had waited far too long to enjoy the sugary taste of Bakugo’s mouth again.
He pulled away quickly, leaving a cloud of steam hanging between their faces in the wake of their kiss. He grabbed Bakugo by the wrist and started tugging him down the hall.
“Icy Hot, you can’t just – drag me to your room and—”
“Why not? We’re both single now. You made sure of that.” He felt Bakugo flinch behind him, but didn’t stop. They arrived at the stairs, coming across Shouji, who peered down at their hands. Shouto sidestepped him and pulled Bakugo up the steps.
“Excuse me, Shouji. Bakugo and I are going to have sex.”
“Todoroki--!”
The rest of Bakugo’s words were lost against Shouto’s mouth as he pressed the blond against the wall and slipped his tongue past the other’s lips. They kissed for several long moments, literally raising each other’s body heat by several degrees.
Shouto moved down to Bakugo’s neck, thinking of prom, of when he’d seen Kirishima do the same. He found a small unmarked patch of skin and settled his teeth on it. So this is what it felt like – good, powerful – to have Bakugo squirming and whimpering against him.
“Why are you being so – shit, that’s cold – damn handsy!”
Fury – or was it desire, or maybe they were one in the same – had all but consumed him as he brought Bakugo into his room and slammed the door behind them. His heart was pounding and he felt strangely light-headed, sick with excitement. Like when he’d used his flames for the first time, leaping into the unknown with only some vague idea of what would happen next.
Bakugo was looking around at his Japanese-style room. Shouto realized he’d never been inside it before. “So. What do you think?”
“That’s why you brought me here? To critique your crappy taste in interior design? It’s so typically you, what more can I say?”
“Take off your clothes,” Shouto ordered, already stepping out of his slacks and placing them on a chair.
“Yeah, I know how this works—” Shouto was already naked by the time Bakugo had pulled off his shirt. He pressed his hand on the blond’s chest, warming it as he nudged him toward the futon.
“Bed,” he murmured.
“You better bring everything you’ve got to this, Icy Hot,” Bakugo taunted. But the reds of his eyes shone brighter than ever as Shouto pressed him back against the sheets. He moved his palm down to the annoying fabric still clinging to Bakugo’s legs, and promptly burned off his pants.
“What the fuck!”
“Don’t worry, I’ll buy you new ones,” Shouto said absently, his length hardening against Bakugo’s thigh as the blond fidgeted under him.
“That’s not the p—mmh!”
Shouto realized that kissing had many uses, one of them being to shut Bakugo up.
“I talked to Recovery Girl,” he said in a rushed breath. “With my flames and your sweat, if I lose control I could easily immolate both of us—”
Beneath him, Bakugo actually full-on laughed, hand covering his mouth. Shouto thought back to remedial, of when Bakugo reacted the same way to Camie’s illusion of him, and his hands subconsciously lowered to Bakugo’s waist and squeezed.
“Stop, stop, stop, Icy Hot. Holy shit, is that supposed to turn me on?”
“No. This is.”
Shouto yanked Bakugo’s legs apart and entered him in one hard, decidedly hot thrust and—
(Oh. So this was what had driven Kirishima and Midoriya crazy. He almost couldn’t blame them for acting as they did.)
--It set off a shattering moan from the blond, who was now arching beneath him, eyes wide and seeping with tears. Shouto groaned, too, because as it turns out, seeing the reaction he’d triggered from Bakugo made him feel like a god.
“That was just a safety warning,” he finished.
Had the other two felt this? The rush of power, the raw sensation of Bakugo engulfing you from the inside, that made you never want to see the light of day again?
Bakugo hissed as Shouto’s searing dick caressed his insides, leaving them wet and warm. Sweat gathered on both of their chests as Shouto’s movements sent him deeper.
The glorious sounds of his own cock squelching past Bakugo’s lubricant spurred him on and Shouto couldn’t stop – could no longer think straight, especially when it splashed onto his thighs with each thrust, and a syrupy fragrance clouded the rest of his senses.
All he wanted was more.
He wasn’t used to hearing Bakugo’s “Haaa—” uttered in a non-aggressive manner, and hell, he would never be able to hear it in the same way after this.
But the same base instinct that wiped away any stray thoughts of the future, was now urging him to split Bakugo open.
“Aren’t you supposed to be flexible?” He snarled, grabbing the blond’s legs and folding him in half.
Bakugo growled an unintelligible response. There was no mistaking that he was good at this, though, as he knew exactly how to maneuver himself so that Shouto could warm as much of him as possible from the inside.
Shouto’s elbows locked under Bakugo’s knees, pinning them up to his chest. He turned up the heat and pressed the head of his dick to Bakugo’s opening, then rolled his hips.
It left the blond panting and dazed under him, giving Shouto the perfect view of his light hair fanned out on the sheets, with some wayward strands stuck to his forehead. The blush on his cheeks was bright as day, and so were the tears in his eyes, his red mouth, and Shouto thought, oh no.
This was it, he was a fucking goner. Something had twisted in his chest, unlocking the same rage and possessiveness Kirishima and Midoriya fell victim to.
He felt Bakugo’s hands heating up his thighs, urging him, and in turn, Shouto placed his right hand on the center of Bakugo’s chest.
“Whaa—what’re you doin’,” Bakugo mumbled, shifting as swirls of condensation rose from their points of contact.
“Making sure you don’t get heatstroke,” Shouto said patiently, and continued to cool him with one hand while fucking him with his hot dick. “I have bottled water, too, in case you—”
“—Not gonna pass out while fucking. Jesus.” To prove his point, Bakugo jolted his hips up and clenched down hard, causing Shouto to stutter in his movements.
“Right, you’re supposed to be good at this,” Shouto teased, and paused mid-thrust, enjoying the way Bakugo’s walls twitched around his cock as he fluctuated his internal temperature. It had taken a while, but he’d finally figured out that goading Bakugo always yielded spectacular results.
“I’m the best at it, half and half!”
“At taking dick?”
“Ha, I’m the one bending your dick to my will,” Bakugo said, smirking. Huh. Shouto’d never seen it that way before, but it explained a lot.
He didn’t know if it was normal, to change sex positions mid-sex. Whether it was rude, or whatever, considering he didn’t say anything when he suddenly retracted his hips. But he didn’t care anymore. Sex was loads better when he wasn’t thinking.
Smoke drifted upward, emanating from his nether regions and Shouto would’ve considered it embarrassing if not for Bakugo’s irritated look changing to one of hunger as the blond stared predatorily at his cock. It made sense for him to be turned on at Shouto's smoking body parts, as the glistening fluid between his legs similarly made Shouto spark with want.
Apparently they were both really into quirk sex.
Shouto slid his fingers into Bakugo's hole, warming it up. He kept his hand steaming, as Bakugo couldn’t tear his gaze away, even as his eyes clouded over from another wave of tears. His skin had flushed scarlet, and sweat was dripping down the sides of his face.
“Is it… Is it too hot? You’re very red.”
“Shut up!”
He tried to lash out, physically, but Shouto kept a firm grip on his thighs, keeping them in place as he descended, and pressed his face against Bakugo’s entrance.
He settled with cold first, and he felt Bakugo jump, before he switched to warm. The more he licked into Bakugo, the more honey-flavored slick poured out for him to consume. Bakugo gushed harder when it was warm, which wasn't surprising, since it worked like sweat.
“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna—gonna come,” Bakugo moaned. Shouto took that as a warning that perhaps Bakugo wanted to stretch things out further, and so did he.
So he grabbed Bakugo’s ankle and straightened one of his legs, keeping the other hiked up as he maneuvered him sideways and sunk into him again, cold.
Cold was good in its own ways. It made Bakugo thrash every single time, and also made him tighter, constricting blood vessels everywhere. When he told Bakugo this detail, he just hissed “sick fucker,” but didn’t tell him to stop, so Shouto kept going.
Bakugo was half-leaning on him, and Shouto took this as an opportunity to lower his head and mouth at his nipple, slipping his hand around Bakugo’s torso to tug at the other.
God, he’d been wanting to do that for a while. Ever since he’d seen Bakugo mid-fuck (it was probably Midoriya in there, ugh) – Shouto felt anger roiling in him at the memory, so he thrusted particularly hard and felt guilty at how good Bakugo’s whimpers sounded.
He may not have had Kirishima’s sharp teeth, but his mouth stayed cold and his hand kept warm as he teased the blond’s chest and fucked into his tightening body.
Bakugo seemed to appreciate his ability to play with temperatures, because he was beating his fist down on the futon (why was everything about him so violent?) as his body was pulled in all sorts of ways, from one extreme to the other.
“Fuck,” Bakugo said, in between breathy gasps as come spurted from his dick.
Shouto was close, but – he couldn’t decide whether to remain cold or shift to warm. In the end he kept his dick as is, and so ice-cold come flooded Bakugo’s insides, making him curl his body into Shouto’s with a surprised yelp.
“Warn me next time before you decide to make a popsicle in me?”
“Right. Yeah,” Shouto said, but he was hardly listening. His concentration was on his own dick, which… Wasn’t sliding back out, despite his efforts to remove it from Bakugo.
“Uh.”
He pulled back his hips experimentally, and… Bakugo’s were tugged along with them.
His dick was... Frozen stuck inside Bakugo.
“…Recovery Girl didn’t mention this.”
“What are you, a dog?! Get out!”
Bakugo tried to crawl away, but ended up just dragging Shouto with him and hurting them both. They both had to stop moving for a while until the pain subsided.
Shit. Bakugo’s teeth were chattering. Shouto had been concerned about hyperthermia, but he hadn’t considered the possibility of the opposite happening, that he might kill Bakugo from hypothermia due to sex.
He wasn’t even a hero yet, but now he was going to be jailed for crimes of passion. Bakugo truly did bring out the worst in him.
Chemistry, indeed.
“I think it’s because the cold froze your lubricant.”
“Oh, so this is my fault?” Bakugo pulled again, though he did it lightly this time. The movement jerked Shouto’s waist forward and he felt like a puppet being tugged around by the dick. It wasn’t exactly comfortable.
“Bakugo, please stop moving. I can warm us up but I’ll have to melt it slowly to avoid any permanent damage.”
He heard Bakugo grumble something that sounded awfully like ‘I’ll give you permanent damage’, but apart from that, he followed Shouto’s instructions to the letter, laying obediently on his side. There was no reaction when Shouto grabbed his hip and separated their pelvises slowly, dragging his warmed up cock out inch by inch.
With Shouto freed, they were able to lie on their backs, side by side, enjoying their relief in a weighty but brief silence.
Shouto opened the box of All Might chocolates and popped one into his mouth. He nearly spat it out, because it really was spicy, no joke. Struggling to maintain a neutral expression, Shouto offered the box to Bakugo, who took one and ate it. And then grabbed two more.
You could remove all the mind-blowing sex they’d just had and eating chocolates in bed would still be more romantic than anything he and Midoriya had ever done. Shouto didn’t quite know how to feel about that so he pushed the thought aside.
He had another idea. Reaching for one of his desk drawers, he pulled out a set of plastic crowns and, before Bakugo could react, froze a familiar tiara onto his hair. Then he slipped the crown onto his own head and ate another chocolate. The flavor was starting to grow on him.
“The shit is this,” Bakugo said, pointing at the object frosted to his head.
“Well, I feel like a king right now,” Todoroki admitted.
“You this smug whenever you sleep with someone?”
“Nah, only when that someone is you.” He passed Bakugo a water bottle. The blond took it without complaint. Shouto admired the long column of his neck as he tipped his head back and drank it.
“I can go again,” he blurted. “If you’re interested.”
“Why,” Bakugo said, eyes narrowed. “So you can get your dick stuck in me permanently?”
“It was my first time,” he said, impatiently. “Just… Come on.” Bakugo was busying himself, trying to remove the tiara. Shouto grabbed him by the arm and dragged him close, his insistent mouth parting the blond’s swollen lips.
“…Keep it on?” he suggested.
“Seriously? You’re into this weird kinky roleplay shit?”
“No, but. It looks good.”
“Hopeless,” Bakugo said, rolling his eyes, but Shouto could’ve sworn he saw the corner of his mouth curl upwards.
He let Bakugo pick the position this time, and the one he chose provided Shouto with the perfect view of his ass. He stared, dumfounded, as Bakugo sat poised on his knees, riding Shouto’s dick while facing the opposite direction.
Shouto could see the rippling lines of his back as he arched, every muscle drawn taut. He relished the sight of his dick spreading Bakugo’s hole open, hands resting loosely on Bakugo’s hips, as he let the blond do all the work.
“Your ass is bouncier than I thought it would be,” Shouto said, in what he assumed was idle conversation.
His next thought was ‘Wow, Bakugo could really blush, even down to his back’ before his vision was blocked by a pillow to the face. Somehow, Bakugo had managed to twist around on his cock without getting off (!!!), and was now face to face with him, smothering him to a happy death.
“Shut up shut up shut up, just don’t do dirty talk at all if you’re gonna fucking suck at it—”
Somehow, they’d missed the sound of the doorknob rattling.
“Todoroki, we need to talk—”
And that’s how Midoriya walked in on them and saw Bakugo straddling Shouto’s lap, suffocating him with a pillow, both of them connected from the waist-down and completely naked save for the crowns on their heads.
“Get out,” Bakugo said.
“K-Kacchan?!”
“GET OUT,” Shouto repeated, grabbing the pillow and tossing it in Midoriya’s general direction.
“Of course! Sorry, I—”
Midoriya retreated, the door closing behind him.
The two looked at each other and started snickering.
“You’re soft,” Shouto commented, looking down. Bakugo’s eye twitched.
“Not all of us have annoying quirks that let us go twice in a row.”
“Let me help, then.” He wrapped his left hand around Bakugo’s length and focused, willing the blood vessels to dilate with heat. This proved harder than he’d initially thought, because Bakugo chose that moment of all times to start riding his dick again.
“N-not bad, Todoroki,” he said softly, when Shouto finished the job.
Shouto hummed, and coaxed Bakugo onto his back. He wanted them to finish the same way they’d started, in missionary. It felt oddly romantic doing it this way, in a dimly-lit room, Bakugo spreading his legs like it was second nature to him, fingers sinking into Shouto’s shoulders. His teeth tugged and grazed at his own lips to suppress the glorious sounds Shouto fucked out of him.
He stroked Bakugo’s cheek, swiping away one tear. His hand hovered there for a moment, paralyzed by confusion – last time they’d seen each other he was eager to wrap his hands around Bakugo’s neck. And yet, now, they were fucking in his room under the covers.
Being a teenager was so confusing.
Bakugo’s legs flexed against his back, their bodies intertwined and moving together lazily, like a single being. This felt far more intimate than their previous couplings, Shouto’s body wet and aching, while the body beneath his rose to meet him every time he dug himself further into it.
“What was that about me having zero stamina?” Shouto asked, a smile playing at his lips.
“Fuckin’ prick,” Bakugo said, right before their mouths crashed together.
Shouto hit the golden spot and his movements faltered, pumping come into Bakugo for the second time. Once he’d emptied himself and become soft, Bakugo’s eyes widened and a sigh left his lips, as he savored the feeling of hot come inside him. Shouto felt a substance hit his lower stomach.
“Oh,” he said, noticing that Bakugo had come, too. The blond was rubbing at his eyes, as Shouto waited for their breathing to even out.
“Didn’t think this would be—” Bakugo said, and as Shouto pulled out, his eyes closed for a moment. “—Such a damn workout.” When they opened again, they were sparkling.
Shouto rolled off and lay on his side, facing the blond. He resisted the urge to brush away another wayward tear that was streaking down Bakugo’s cheek, and instead let his hand rest on Bakugo’s hair, melting the ice and letting the tiara fall to the sheets.
“See? I didn’t get stuck this time,” Shouto told him, making no attempt to mask the smugness in his voice.
Bakugo eyed him up and down. “Yeah, but now there’s steam coming out of your dick.”
“So?”
Bakugo chuckled, then to Shouto’s disappointment, lifted himself up to a sitting position. He’d been hoping they could lie here together for a while longer.
There were red patches in the shape of literal handprints all over Bakugo’s body.
“I can—I can cool those down for you.”
“No need,” Bakugo said flippantly. With the sprawling collection of bruises, cuts and burns on his skin, Shouto wondered if he was some kind of masochist. But then again, it seemed totally in-character for Bakugo to treat sex-induced marks as battle scars.
Shouto pushed himself upright, grabbed Bakugo by the nape and hauled him in for a kiss. The blond had apparently accepted that there was no escaping it, because he gave back with equal fervor. When their lips separated, Shouto breathed, exhaling a cloud of smoke.
Kissing was almost as addicting as fucking.
“Thank you,” he said, because it was either that or something more ridiculous like ‘stay’, and he was far too cowardly to say the latter.
Now that they were out of things to do, the awkwardness of their predicament had begun to set in.
“Um,” Shouto said. “You may go now, if you want.”
He got a fiery slap in return.
“Ow.”
“Don’t say 'you may go now', like I’m some hooker. The hell’s wrong with you?” Bakugo glared. His hand was curled around Todoroki’s forearm, gripping tightly. “And don’t just. Don’t fucking tell – anyone! Got it?” There was a tinge of desperation in his voice and he looked almost tearful.
“Right. Of course,” Shouto said coolly.
The tenuous harmony between them was quickly dissipating.
Bakugo didn’t even ask, just grabbed Shouto’s pants from the floor as he stood up. Shouto couldn’t help but stare at the webs of mixed come and slick dribbling down Bakugo’s thighs as the blond shimmied into Shouto’s pants, swearing loudly as they threatened to slide back down to his knees. He really had a thin waist.
“We’re even now. You’re not allowed to be mad or disappointed anymore, got that?”
Even…?
Bakugo rambled on while slipping into his shirt (“Why does everyone keep breaking my shit…?!”), and Shouto had a sobering thought: he had just lost his virginity to the annoying blond. The realization left him infuriated and elated. Being around Bakugo always somehow forced him to feel two opposing emotions at once.
With Shouto’s favorite slacks sagging around his hips, Bakugo left the room. Shouto sat there, a wave of calm overtaking him. It was accompanied by a buzzing sensation, the pleasing sort, felt throughout his body.
Some of his frustration had been drained away, the rest covered up by a hazy sort of satisfaction.
Whether having sex with Bakugo would turn out to be a good decision or not, Shouto figured that at this point, he didn’t care. The bitterness toward their general situation hadn’t ebbed like he’d hoped it would but…
Damn, at least the sex had been fantastic. The images of Bakugo that his mind conjured would help mask his other, less than savory thoughts.
His futon was completely soaked, there were burns all over the tatami floor he’d worked so hard to install, and his room smelled entirely of caramel.
Just the way Shouto liked it.
-----INTERLUDE: Monoma Walks On Sunshine-----
“1-A has gone too far,” he declared one night at dinner. It was his favorite topic of conversation (sue him), no matter how many eyerolls he got in return.
“Monoma, they didn’t even do anything,” said poor, naïve Awase. Little did he know, that was precisely the comment Monoma had been waiting for – it made it that much easier to segue into his daily 1-A rant.
“They ruined prom!” He slammed his fists on the table, causing several plates (and people) to jump. “My one chance to leave behind a legacy at UA and they ripped it away from me! Now Vlad King won’t even trust me to lead a group discussion!”
“Sure, they were kind of self-centered, but that was ages ago,” Juzo said. “Nothing can be done. It’s over.”
“Oh, it’s far from over. We can get back at them especially with all the intel we’ve already got.” More classmates were listening in now, albeit begrudgingly. “Okay, what else do we know about these guys? We’ve got info on the couples, particularly the girls, thanks to that little shrimp. But what we need to do is to find out more about Bakugo. We all know he’s a virgin, but—”
“Pfft, like hell he is,” someone snorted from the couch. Monoma swiveled and saw Tetsu, lounging on it with his arm around Kendou.
“What? Wait, how do you know this?”
Everyone turned their attention to Tetsu, who appeared to be second-guessing his decision to speak up. “N-nothing. Nevermind. I know nothing about Bakugo.”
Eyes narrowed, he got up from his chair and prowled toward the other male.
“Monoma,” Kendou said in a warning tone. But it had no effect; this new version of Kendou didn’t bother karate chopping him anymore. Entering a relationship had softened her.
“There’s only one person in 1-A that you’re close enough to who would divulge that info,” he said slowly, addressing Tetsu. “And it’s—“ he broke off into a laugh. “Oh, shit! Kirishima actually told you he’s fucking Bakugo?”
“I won’t say any more,” Tetsu said, adamant. He’d never been a good liar.
“So that’s a yes, then.” Stroking his chin, Monoma paused. “How do you know he’s not just claiming to be fucking Bakugo for the clout, though?” Tetsu looked away. “Ahhhhhh, because he told you to keep it a secret, didn’t he?”
“Look, It’s no big deal, alright?” Tetsu snapped. “Forget I said anything.”
“Of course it isn’t. I was just surprised,” he said innocently. “Hey Tetsu, do you ever lock your door?”
Tetsu’s silvery eyelids blinked several times at the sudden topic change. “Nah, I trust everyone here… Why do you ask?”
He was cutting first period, but he knew his sacrifice would be well worth the reward. Heights Alliance was completely empty since all of 1-A were in class, leaving Monoma to freely explore their building.
He headed straight to Kirishima’s room. As predicted, it was unlocked. Tetsu and Kiri were practically clones, after all – God, even their rooms were carbon copies of each other.
His search of Kirishima’s quarters initially netted something promising: two metallic box-shaped objects joined together by hinges, that, when opened, revealed a dick-shaped mold. It was hidden under his bed. Kinky fuck. But it wouldn’t be enough. He needed proof, that Bakugo had been in this room—
There was a third keycard on Kirishima’s desk.
It didn’t open Bakugo’s room, though, which was… Shocking and mildly disappointing. So Tetsu had been misled, then.
Monoma decided he would try it on each door, from the ground floor up.
Imagine his surprise when the second door he attempted (Midoriya’s) on floor two, happened to be the winner. Kirishima and Midoriya, really? He frowned. That pairing didn’t… Seem right.
But Midoriya’s room could give him more clues.
It was covered in All Might paraphernalia. Monoma was left shaking his head at the otaku energy radiating all around him. And to think Midoriya was supposedly getting some! The idea of him ‘dating’ Todoroki had always been a source of hilarity for Monoma. The two were more awkward around each other than a pair of newborn seals.
He was losing hope, fast, though, that he would dig up anything about Bakugo. There was nothing here but All Might merch… And, some notebooks. One was tattered and frayed, jutting out from the shelf. Curious, Monoma plucked it out and leafed through it.
Hero notes. Boring.
But… There were some details on his classmates. And a lot in particular on Bakugo. As Monoma skimmed through them, the most recent additions are what caught his eye:
COMMENTS/OBSERVATIONS
Possible secondary quirk effects:
-Sweet odor due to glycerin secretion CONFIRMED
-Self-lubrication CONFIRMED
-Excess lacrimation CONFIRMED
-Excess salivation CONFIRMED
-Sweet taste of body fluids (tears, saliva, sweat, semen) CONFIRMED
Each bullet point was next to a list of dates, all of which weren’t too long ago.
…Very specific dates. One of which was prom night.
Monoma’s heart started beating fast as he reread Midoriya’s frenzied handwriting. He’d just struck gold.
The next step was to bump into a specific General Studies student, one with a renowned hacking quirk. By that afternoon, he had files of all recent CCTV footage from the hallway of Heights Alliance’ fourth floor, saved on his computer.
The camera was set up near the stairs, and had a clear view of the entire hallway, with all four doors visible. He searched for the file labeled with the date prom took place, and played it at twice the speed.
What he saw blew his mind:
A pixelated version of Midoriya in a suit walked up to Bakugo’s door and knocked. The blond poked his head out. There was no audio, but their conversation was brief, Bakugo quickly pulling Midoriya in.
Eventually, Midoriya came out of Bakugo’s dorm, adjusting his rumpled suit jacket. Looking satisfied.
Hang on.
Midoriya?!
He’d been expecting Kirishima, but this was… Even better! It made perfect sense! Of course that little freak Midoriya would jump at the chance to bone his childhood friend, despite having a boyfriend.
But the more Monoma watched, the rounder his eyes became.
Because it wasn’t just Midoriya entering Bakugo’s room. During other intervals, it was Kirishima. Walking out with the same rumpled look. The same self-satisfied expression, as if he’d just won the lottery. So Tetsu had been right.
…And things just kept getting better.
At one point, Kirishima entered Bakugo’s room, with Midoriya sneaking into Kirishima’s room soon after (what the fuck?!). Bakugo then left his room, only to be pulled into Kirishima’s quarters by Midoriya. Then, Bakugo waddled out and returned to his room again, before Midoriya snuck off.
So… There was clear deception at play, here. Midoriya and Bakugo were sneaking around behind Kirishima’s and Todoroki’s backs.
Damn, Bakugo’s ass must be worth it to fuck over your friends like this. So much for being paragons of virtue. 1-A really was full of hypocritical, cheating scum.
The video kept playing, well past the dates that were listed in the notebook. Monoma’s jaw dropped when he arrived at yet another twist in this sordid tale.
Todoroki was talking to Bakugo in the hall, and then they started kissing. Todoroki dragged Bakugo off, presumably up to his room. Hours later, Bakugo would shuffle back into his room, wearing what appeared to be Todoroki’s slacks.
Dear God, even Todoroki?! Monoma let out a bark of laughter. It was like Christmas had come early! Shit, you’d think Bakugo’d be a lot more mellow from being dicked so often!
He took some screenshots and forwarded them to someone he knew who would be very interested in these developments.
And then he collapsed against the chair, head in his hands, shoulders trembling with excitement.
This was just too good! Monoma went into this thinking he would expose Bakugo as the virgin loser that he was… Yet, this revelation was far better than anything he could have dreamed of! Because who could have seen this coming?! The fact that—
…Bakugo Katsuki is a MASSIVE SLUT!
Notes:
First off, here’s a RELATIONSHIP CHART I made that currently summarizes the messiness going on in 1-A at the moment (some of those descriptors should be in past tense at this point, but…). These details will be important in later chapters.
Secondly, I apologize for the length of this chapter. I honestly wasn’t expecting it to get as long as it did, and in fact I did trim down certain scenes, but ah well. I tried my best to include Satou, since I felt bad about just making him the 'baking dude' (even though that sums up his canon personality).
Thirdly, I finally caved and made a Twitter, complete with a cc so feel free to talk to me over there!
The next chapter is the long-awaited Bakugo chapter! And you know what that means: suffering abounds.
Will Monoma get his revenge on Class 1A? Will Kirishima and Deku resolve their issues? Will Kirishima and Bakugo get a proper talk? Stay tuned.
Chapter 7: Bakugo Wants To Rule The World
Summary:
Bakugo suffers.
Notes:
Thank you for everyone’s thoughtful and hilarious comments. I’m constantly torn from being amazed, and laughing myself silly at all your reactions. They have been the best thing to wake up to each morning and I feel so grateful, honestly, at all of you who took the time to not only read but leave such kind words.
I am intrigued at how everyone has been viewing characters’ reactions differently. It’s been interesting how many people prefer DekuBaku, KiriBaku and TodoBaku. Part of the fun of this fic is exploring how each dynamic is wildly different, and to get such differing opinions from people who like/despise certain outcomes is hugely fascinating. People have been either loving or hating characters’ decisions, too, and I appreciate not only the honesty in telling me and how well some commenters have been able to catch hints to their motivations and where the story is going.
Thank you to LineArt, who drew this Beautiful art of the Todo/Baku scene last chapter.
Thank you also to:
Minx, KathyBoug, PastaPotatoes, Isi_Ana, KimaCat, woof woof bark bark snarl grrr rrrrrrr, Yonkai, filledyogurt, Kazumii, saekoarmy, Katsuki90, Anon, mimisnusnu, VanHan, anime_freak_forever_and_ever, Chlo_EEEE21, YooNBUM, HK44, SpiffyCo, ferries, guest, blueseagull, Anon, heartsinhay, jasal23, tsubasahana (Phyllis Cake), SimpForStrongBoys, Chibinatalia, Honest_Orange2, Ando, glitterfangirl, LacedSkeletons, ha_gayyyyyy, Olive_bnha, SuzuAmeda, kusuri, Ovmadns, nowiknow;), Kae, bakufanforlife, Starkisssu, Sluttyk, Idkeiadh, Pancaked!!!, Fireiii, DolmioPasta, You’reMyNicotine, Peer_Gynt, PumpedUpKicks, StupidIdiotDumbass, Rai, Mika.ela, chiharuSAICHI, helgapataki, RekkaKouyuu, screamingbees
And everyone who's put up with me on Discord and on my Twitter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“No fair, Kacchan, you always make me be the damsel and you keep eating me!”
“Because I’m the dragon! That’s what dragons do, that’s why it’s called Damsel and the Dragon, not Damsel and the… Dog or something.”
Still, Izuku wouldn’t relent. He pestered Katsuki for what seemed like hours, even following him to the vending machine while he bought a drink, just so he could talk his ear off on why the blond ought to play the damsel at least once.
Desperate for Izuku to shut up, Katsuki finally agreed. He climbed the jungle gym, stuck his head out through the bars, and said in the most bored tone possible:
“Aaaa. Help me. I’m captured. Aah.”
Their roles were usually reversed, Katsuki accustomed to pulling Izuku’s legs out from under him, sending him to the ground so the dragon could ‘feast’ on its prey. This time, it felt strange to be on the receiving end. He yelped as his ankle was grabbed, Izuku peering up determinedly as he hauled Katsuki back to earth.
Wha-!”
But instead of knocking him to the ground, Izuku grabbed Katsuki in a bear hug and marched backwards, steering him away from the jungle gym that was his ‘tower’.
“I saved you, Kacchan. S-stop kicking!”
“Dragons can’t save! You’re supposed to let me kill you. Hyah!”
Katsuki freed himself from Izuku’s grip and attempted a counter-punch with his right fist, but Izuku danced out of the way.
“Damsels can’t kill dragons,” he said, pouting.
“I’m a damsel but I’m a warrior, too.”
“Then I’m a dragon but I’m a knight, too! And I freed you from the tower. Now you have to give me a reward.”
“Fine.” He rolled his eyes.
Izuku really was incapable of forming a single original thought, always copying Katsuki at every turn in his pathetic attempts to one-up him. Reaching into his pocket, Katsuki grabbed the first thing his fingers came into contact with, and offered it to Izuku.
It was a candy bar wrapper. The other boy stared at it, disappointed.
“What? I’m giving you my treasure!”
Dumb, ungrateful Izuku.
“Kacchan, the damsel has to kiss the knight as a reward! That’s what damsels do!”
“You’re not a knight! You’re a big, scary dragon and I don’t want to kiss you! Yuck!”
Katsuki tried to turn away, prepared to go home rather than suffer the ramifications of obeying an on-the-spot made-up rule. But Izuku wouldn’t let him; he grabbed Katsuki’s arm and clung on.
“But I saved you! Please?”
“No.”
“Please, please?” Izuku’s eyes were growing larger. Katsuki knew what was coming, but he continued yelling anyway.
“NO!”
Those annoying green eyes clouded with tears, that were soon dripping down his face. Izuku was a noisy crier, and his voice reached an ear-piercing pitch whenever he did it. Katsuki hated it whenever Izuku cried, so he did the only thing he could think of to stop Izuku from dissolving further.
“Your crying is so annoying. Mwah!”
Katsuki squished Izuku’s face between his open hands, and pressed firm lips against his. It was very brief kiss that was over in a blink.
“There! Happy?!”
The worst part is that despite Katsuki kissing him – blech, he had to wipe his mouth on his sleeve afterwards to get rid of the Izu-cooties – Izuku burst into tears anyway. He made weird, squeaking noises as he hugged Katsuki and pressed his face into Katsuki’s shirt, sobbing ‘thank you’ over and over, and calling him amazing.
Katsuki would’ve appreciated the compliments more without Izuku getting snot all over his shirt.
“When I get my quirk,” he said to no one in particular, for Izuku was unlikely to hear him over his own caterwauling. “I’ll never be a damsel again.”
--
He was far too old to still be wetting the bed.
But this… Was different.
His loose pajamas felt warm and restrictive. With a gasp, Katsuki threw off the sheets. There was a damp spot in between his legs. It was spreading outward from the seat of his pants, a dark patch that was already reaching a sizeable radius.
He felt fucking gross, sweat coming off him in torrents. But it wasn’t just sweat. His vision was blurry, and he found himself swallowing repeatedly. Despite this, his mouth continued to fill up with saliva at an alarmingly fast rate. Some of it escaped through the corners of his lips.
Katsuki switched on the lights, dreading what he would find as he peeled off his soaking wet clothing. His underwear was completely drenched. To his horror, there was a clear film, of some leftover thick substance as he separated the fabric from his skin. Every sensation from the waist-down was heightened, and even the accidental nudge of his thighs together sent shocks up and down his spine.
He was hunched over, crying and drooling and fucking quivering on the spot, as he watched the slow drag of fluid trickle out – of his ass – and down his inner thighs. Disgusting.
He had the overwhelming urge to take a bath, which conflicted with his desire to get to the hospital pronto. Because he was leaking profusely from almost every orifice, and no doubt there was a limit to how much water his body could secrete before he passed out.
But what about the sheets? His clothes? The last thing he wanted was for his parents to find out he couldn’t control his… Whatever-gland-was-doing-this.
So Katsuki stripped his mattress down and, after pulling on a fresh pair of shorts (that ended up equally sodden in a matter of minutes), he brought his clothing and linens to the washing machine downstairs.
He was hurriedly tossing them in the washer when the voice he least wanted to hear spoke behind him:
“Katsuki, what are you—”
He whirled around, recognizing the blurred shape of his mom.
“Fuck off! I was just—Just leave me alone, mom!” He shrieked. Just then, a wave of sweat and what-have-you discharged again, leaving his body shuddering and his shorts ruined as he frantically tried to scrub the evidence from his face.
She looked at him for one long moment, then sighed, eyes sharpening in recognition. Her mouth stayed a firm line.
“Oh, Katsuki… Get dressed. We’re going to the hospital.”
She was strangely quiet while waiting for him to change his bottoms yet again, quiet as she drove while he sniffled beside her (they hadn’t bothered to wake his dad, which surprised and unnerved him), and quiet as she let nurses lead him away to get all sorts of tests done.
They poked cotton swabs in embarrassing areas, asked him uncomfortable questions like “were you masturbating when this happened?”.
Thankfully, though, his body appeared to be calming down in the process, because he was producing marginally less fluid. By the time he was back at the doctor’s office with his mom, his eyes were puffy, lips red from biting, but everything was mercifully dry.
The doctor seemed to prefer conversing with his mom rather than him, so Katsuki sat there, unsure of what to think as the man revealed that, yes, Katsuki had inherited that side of her quirk, and it was manifesting now with puberty, which was uncommon but not out of the ordinary.
As a result, his body was now fully susceptible to leaking at random intervals, the trigger of which was yet to be determined. He was gonna salivate, cry, sweat and drip slick from his ass in excess from now on.
What a fucking revelation.
The doctor was currently rambling about the chemical makeup of his – his slick, as he’d so grossly put it, when Katsuki interrupted.
“Hold on, is this gonna affect my explosions?”
“In theory, it—it shouldn’t,” the man answered with a shrewd smile. “Seeing as you can only detonate with your hands…”
“Then I don’t give a fuck about the rest,” he said, staring determinedly forward. “That’s all that matters. This ain’t gonna stop me.”
“Katsuki—”
He just wanted to go home and change. He didn’t want to listen to any more reminders that his life was never going to be the same. He was a bit leakier, now but… So what?
The air grew thick with tension, as the doctor turned his questioning to his mom, concerning her own quirk, and his queries gradually became more invasive.
“I imagine, as you got older, and became more, ah, active in a sense, it happened more often?” The doctor had a strange smile on his face as he asked, and Katsuki hadn’t understood what exactly he was getting at, but his mom visibly stiffened.
“Yes, well,” she said in a tight voice. “I make do, and so will he.”
“There’s no need to look so worried, Ma’am.”
“Oh, there’s plenty of need,” Mitsuki said, her tone heated. “It wasn’t all sunshine and daisies for me either. And he’s a boy, which could make things doubly awkward.”
The doctor burst out laughing.
“Your son has a gift! I’m sure in the future, he could make men – many men very happy.”
Katsuki’s insides had gone cold from shock. He was still in the process of wondering whether this asshole had just implied what Katsuki thought he implied, but his mom was much faster, standing up and jabbing a finger at the doctor’s chest.
“You sick bastard. Don’t say shit like that, for God’s sake, he’s barely a teenager!”
She gave Katsuki one look that meant it was time to leave. He obeyed, heading for the door that she held open with a shaking hand.
“My son is going to be a hero,” she declared. “The greatest hero there is! If I were you, as early as now I’d be showing him some respect because he’s gonna save your sorry ass one day!”
It was almost sunrise when they drove home, his mom’s side profile lit up by an orange glow.
“Guess we’re more alike than I’d hoped, brat,” she said finally, breaking the silence. Katsuki didn’t respond, busy staring down at his hands. In his eyes, they were the only body part that would benefit from sweating excessively. Everything else could fuck right off.
“It’s embarrassing, I know. But we’ll prepare, okay? I can start ordering special underwear—”
“I don’t need special underwear!”
God, the thought of having to wear period panties or something was unbearable.
“I wear ‘em, got a problem with that?”
He huffed, and she responded by pulling over, bringing the car to an abrupt halt. Initially Katsuki thought she was going to start yelling at him for showing cheek. Instead she looked sideways at his, her eyes and voice unexpectedly soft.
“Katsuki, I know you love how flashy your quirk is, but you’re gonna have to keep this a secret.”
“Oh, gee, and here I was about to scream from the rooftops that I can cry and drool at will.”
“Dammit, you know I’m not talking about that part! Quit being mouthy and listen because I’d rather have this talk before you do something you regret.”
Ignoring the glower he shot in return, she continued.
“With quirks like ours, there are plenty of people who will only want you on the basis of what you can offer them.” Her knuckles turned pale as she tightened her grip on the steering wheel.
“I’m just saying, before you… Give yourself – shut up and listen, brat! – to someone, think long and hard beforehand about whether and why they deserve to have you. Got that?”
--
Within an hour, Kirishima had blown through the money Katsuki had given him.
That bastard.
Did he not fucking see that that had been months’ worth of allowances? All of Katsuki’s efforts down the drain, as if it hadn’t mattered, that Katsuki had just equated the cost of his own life to 50,000 yen in an attempt to pay back the redhead for saving him. If Kirishima couldn’t consider that as equal payment, then neither could he.
It ate at him, because that meant his debt to Kirishima remained unpaid. He couldn’t stand the thought of Kirishima having one over him, even if they were friends.
Friendship was all about giving and taking for mutual benefit, wasn’t it? But Kirishima had given way more than he’d taken by risking his life for Katsuki’s, and unless they were going to be ambushed by villains again anytime soon, the chances were slim that he’d be able to return the favor in that exact same manner.
He wondered how the fuck was he supposed to pay back Kirishima now, and with what, exactly, because the tutoring wouldn’t suffice. It was barely helping Kirishima’s grades to begin with. The redhead seemed more content to just chill in his room, eyes glazed over whenever Katsuki tried to teach him shit.
He would cast side-looks at Katsuki, though, ones that got increasingly drawn out as the days trickled by after Kamino. Kirishima was insisting on ‘studying’ with him almost everyday now, and during those sessions, he was spending more time reading Katsuki than his schoolbooks.
And Katsuki…
Katsuki wasn’t stupid, he had some inkling of what Kirishima might want. Because Kirishima definitely didn’t sneak glances at their other friends like that, not with the same intensity he reserved for Katsuki whenever he thought he wasn’t looking.
During another bout wherein he pointedly ignored how Kirishima’s red eyes were fixated on him, Katsuki bent low over his notebook. Out of the corner of his own eye, he watched Kirishima slowly run his tongue over the sharp edges of his lower teeth.
It made him feel unexpectedly warm, in ways that his own quirk had failed to do.
But not only that…
It had brought all sorts of weird sensations in his nether regions, and in an unintentional move, their gazes locked and Katsuki... Felt a familiar liquid trickling… Into his underwear…
Hours later, he had Kirishima’s cock up his ass and finally, finally, they were even.
There was just one problem, though:
He’d fuckin’… Loved… The fucking.
Maybe a little too much.
Because the hot glide of Kirishima’s dick as it pierced him open had felt so unexpectedly good that he’d almost blown up the entire room. Because seeing the way the redhead’s jaw had dropped open in amazement left his stomach tied up in knots for the rest of the night.
Because fuck yeah, Katsuki was amazing, and for once he’d actually felt proud of having this annoying side effect of a quirk. It was the first time he’d considered it a good thing, because how bad could it be, if it made Kirishima melt into a puddle and left Katsuki twitching from the aftershocks of their amazing, amazing sex?
Fucking was like fighting, almost. Both relied on instinctive reactions, and both gave Katsuki that same drunken euphoria that was magnified by winning.
Leaving Kirishima catatonic afterward, his come decorating Katsuki’s thighs like a memento he could take with him? That had been an undisputed victory.
They’d both enjoyed it. They’d both wanted more.
So there was no harm in doing it as often as possible, right?
But there was... Another problem…
“It’s just,” Kirishima was babbling, and Katsuki wouldn’t have been so irritated if the redhead didn’t have his dick halfway inside him, while choosing now, of all times, to wallow in his insecurity. “They keep making fun of me, you know? Calling me a virgin. Is it so bad for me to want to set the record straight once and for all?”
It was such a dumb thing to be concerned about. Katsuki didn’t like saying who he fucked the same way he didn’t randomly give out his home address: people could do fucked up things even with the most innocuous information they could get their hands on.
Katsuki tightened his fists around Kirishima’s shoulders, and smoke billowed from his hands to express his displeasure. Still, he couldn’t help but roll his hips anyway, even if it sent a mixed message. Kirishima hit a particularly deep spot, and they both paused in their argument to moan.
“Do you have to take out a front page ad every time we fuck?” Katsuki grumbled in his ear. “Is that what you want?”
He had half a mind to ride Kirishima ‘til dawn if it would make him forget whatever dumb shit their friends had said.
“Well, yeah!” Katsuki had a retort ready but Kirishima sneakily kissed him to cut him off. He lifted Katsuki and brought him down on his lap again, and had the nerve to chuckle as Katsuki’s breath was punched out of him in a gasp. “We’re teenagers, man, it’s what we do!”
“No, we’re future heroes, dammit,” he snapped, but his hold on Kirishima’s hair was gentle and he tilted his head, exposing his neck for Kirishima to nibble on. “It’s our… Our business and no one else’s. Fuck.”
“How ‘bout if I just drop hints,” Kirishima said as squeezed Katsuki’s ass with his sharpened fingers. The streaks burned hotly and he knew he was going to feel that for a week every time he sat down.
God, he was wet and aching just from the sheer thought of it.
“Tell them I’m fucking a hot blonde?” Kirishima smirked. “Sexy, feline red eyes, an ass that won’t quit and huge ti—”
“I’m leaving,” Katsuki said, moving to get up. Kirishima simply laughed and locked his arms around his middle.
“Like hell you are,” he growled, and tipped Katsuki backwards, cock in him still, as he lowered the blond back-first , supporting his torso with his joined thighs. Since Kirishima was sitting on the edge of the bed, the world turned upside down as Katsuki’s head and chest were left dangling, and he would’ve hit the floor head-first had he not grabbed Kirishima’s forearms for support.
He made a strangled noise realizing his position, partly because it was new but not exactly comfortable, and partly because it let Kirishima drill him from a whole different angle, one that made him see stars.
“You’re mine now, Katsuki.”
In any other setting he would’ve laughed and told him to knock it off. But one of the nicer aspects of fucking was getting to see the side of Kirishima that went all out.
“Prove it, then,” he said, craning his neck to meet the redhead’s eyes and playfully sticking out his tongue.
It was getting harder to picture days that didn’t end with Kirishima’s body thrusting into his.
Kirishima was his equal, in fighting and friendship and in fucking, and Katsuki was never more aware of that than when he spent hours in the shower with his head leaning against the wall, as he ran his hands up and down the marks on his thighs. Living proof that Kirishima hadn’t held back.
That is, until Kirishima showed him what it really meant to give your all, by switching on his quirk. Which was an entirely different beast, that enthralled Katsuki but at the same time ticked him off beyond reason.
Because it meant that up ‘til then, Kirishima had been holding back the entire time.
--
“Who was that?” Deku asked, sitting up on the bed as Katsuki shut the door. Today just wasn’t his day. Deku was being pushier than usual and Todoroki had just straight up killed his boner by doing the worst impression of an overprotective boyfriend he’d ever seen.
“Just some extra asking about homework.”
“Who?”
“Fuck off,” he replied, shucking off his underwear. Deku swung his legs off the edge of the bed and pulled Katsuki onto his lap. “Would you cut it out, already?” He spat, as Deku plastered his mouth to a spot behind his shoulder. “Kirishima’s going to fucking notice, or are you too stupid to realize he has sharper teeth?”
“I thought you said not to mention Kirishima.” He could feel him smiling, and tried not to shudder. Fucker thought he had outwitted him, did he?
“I said you couldn’t talk about him. So don’t.” He didn’t mind so much that Deku’s chest was pressed to his back. But to feel his disgusting mouth-breathing right in his ear? Ugh.
“So, did you…” Deku said, and Katsuki wanted to groan because this was going to be one of those sessions wherein Deku was incessantly chatty. “Did you reconsider the, um, list I showed you?”
The list was a printed chart of sex positions that Deku had actually dared to shove in his face last time, asking if they could try a couple of the ones that he’d painstakingly circled with a red marker.
Katsuki, of course, burned it up in front of him and spat in his face. In turn, Deku’s eyes went cold, shining an emerald green before he’d thrown Katsuki across the room onto the bed, and railed him until his body ceased to function.
Limp as a ragdoll, all he could do afterward was roll onto his side and glare at Deku, while the nerd mumbled to himself on the other side of the room, busy uprighting the row of All Might action figures that had toppled over in the fray.
That whole incident summed up the very reasons Katsuki absolutely hated (and barely tolerated) messing around with Deku. Because it encapsulated the dichotomy of being fucked by an excellent dick, while unfortunately that same dick belonged to the most annoying person he’d ever heard the misfortune of knowing.
Katsuki wriggled out of Deku’s embrace.
No doubt Deku wouldn’t stop trying to twist him into more embarrassing positions, the creepy fuck. As if he would let him. He wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
He turned and blasted Deku’s shoulders.
“Lie down,” he ordered.
Deku did so, and Katsuki deliberately faced away from him as he clambered onto his lap, aligning his cock before sitting on it. Reverse cowgirl hadn’t been one of the positions Deku suggested, and knowing he was withholding what Deku truly wanted least gave Katsuki some semblance of gratification.
He was able to enjoy about a minute of quiet dick-bouncing before Deku spoke again.
“Kacchan, how come you never ride me the same way you ride Kirishima?”
“’Cause I don’t want to have to look at your disgusting face,” he muttered, arching his back in a way that had Deku’s cock hitting his sweet spot.
“Is it that bad?”
“I hate your weird fucking shrub hair—” he said, riding Deku with abandon. “—Your annoying squeaky voice, those pockmarks on your face, your gross bug eyes, ugly scarred up hands and my neck aches looking down at you all the—ahh, you fucking shit—”
Deku had thrust up, at the same time his hands had caught Katsuki’s waist to force him down and make him take it.
“Is my cock as disgusting as the rest of me, Kacchan?” He said in a vicious undertone.
Deku had a special ability to fuck the words right out of his mind before he could say them. And he was damn well aware of that, and often used it to his advantage, the little slimeball.
But before he could explode Deku’s face, the other male had crossed Katsuki’s wrists behind his back, holding them one-handed.
“Do you think of him when we’re doing this?”
Katsuki didn’t dignify it with an answer, more so because he didn’t want to admit that Deku had read his mind. He could easily be riding Kirishima right now, but it wouldn’t compare.
Because there was nothing like being fucked by One for All.
Of course, he wanted to be with Kirishima. But Deku’s dick.
Everything was simple and easy with Kirishima. But Deku’s dick!!!
“Izuku,” he panted, not wanting to think anymore. And it did the trick. Deku maneuvered him, had him poised on his hands and his knees then pummeled away, grip tight on his hair as lightning crackled around them.
“Y-you like that, Kacchan?” he whispered in an attempt to be sultry, but because of his weird childlike voice Katsuki almost burst out laughing. Or would’ve if Deku hadn’t been fucking him within an inch of his life.
He bit his lip to suppress a sob, because it hurt. It always fucking did, especially in this position. Sex with Deku was so intense his vision would white out and his teeth would be left tingling for hours after.
Deku didn’t hold back and he hated how much he loved it. The creepy fucker always treated him like a science experiment, testing for reactions and describing all the limits he could push Katsuki’s body to.
But as long as Deku’s cock was doing what it did best? He could forget his ear-piercing screeches and nasty hands running all over his body.
Disgusting, scarred fingers threaded through his hair as Deku cooed “Kacchan, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” and Katsuki pressed his face deeper into the pillow because he knew Deku might try again to lick at his tears, or worse, kiss him on the lips.
Because the thing that bothered him most about Deku was that he couldn’t let him have one thing for himself. He was determined to push boundaries until Katsuki was left with nothing. As if bending over for Deku wasn’t enough, no, the little shit demanded more, more, more. He wanted Katsuki to kiss him, blow him, leave Kirishima for him, probably even give him the deed to his family home.
Wasn’t that why Katsuki always fought back?
He pushed his ass against Deku’s pelvis and snarled “Izuku!” and didn’t even hear whatever percent they were at anymore – it was so good, being fucked by power beyond his imagination, feeling it so deeply in him that the energy rushed through his own fingertips.
As he came, his muscles tightened reflexively around Deku’s dick.
“Aaah,” Deku moaned. Hearing it made Katsuki scrunch up his face in irritation.
“Gross,” he mumbled, when Deku spurted into him like a goddamn firehose. He fell onto his side, and focused on rubbing his face clean.
Deku would usually leave him alone after his orgasm, content to sit there and watch as Katsuki figured out a way to get back to his room without leaving a trail of disgusting come all the way to his fucking door.
But as they were in Katsuki’s room so this time, he’d have to wait for Deku to leave.
And of course, the obstinate fucker wasn’t showing any signs of wanting to go.
“Mm, get out,” he said, without much bite at first. Deku hadn’t moved. Instead he was lifting Katsuki’s thigh, and pressing two fingers into his hole.
Katsuki yanked his leg away. It was aching too much for him to muster a well-placed kick. “Get out!” he said instead, much louder.
“Fine. See you, Kacchan,” Deku said, with a roll of his eyes.
Katsuki’s breathing only steadied once the door closed, and he was alone in his room.
He hated Deku so much.
Three of his fingers slid into his own entrance, shoving Deku’s come further in. His skin still pulsed with sensations akin to electric shocks. Brilliant green lights were still tinging his vision.
Katsuki brought his coated fingers up to his face, scissoring them and watching with grotesque fascination how the come stretched in between his fingertips.
He heard the open-and-shut noise of Kirishima returning to his bedroom.
Which meant the sudden end of the euphoric phase of his post-sex clarity. He was skipping straight to self-hatred, knowing the redhead was right on the other side of the wall and none the wiser.
Why, why, was he lying here filled to the brim with Deku’s fluids, when he could’ve waited a bit longer, and gone to Kirishima, who’s always been there? Who’d been the first—
Well… Not really…
Isn’t that why he kept going back?
Because, technically, Deku had always been first?
--
When Deku had him pressed against the bathroom floor, and a million voices had screamed in his head to take it, he couldn’t find the words to say no to the power that had inspired his very dream to be a hero, the same power that now enveloped his entire being.
The loser didn’t deserve to wield it. It had been handed to him on a silver platter and his idea of using it for good? Was to apparently pound Katsuki into the tile with it.
“As if that matters, Kacchan. It’s all been leading up to this moment, hasn’t it? Deep down, you know it, too.”
He had closed his eyes, and thought of every punch and insult (and kiss)—unreturned—
And when he opened his eyes again, Deku was fucking his ass until all he could say was his name.
How could he explain that being fucked by One for All made him feel like all those times he’d watched All Might on TV? It was the same vicarious rush he got from each battle All Might walked away from, without a single scratch. The sheer ecstasy from being all-powerful, from being number one.
Destruction, fighting, winning – sex was the same thing only on slightly different terms.
But while all he’d wanted was someone who could match up to him, Deku wanted total domination.
He’d set his terms with Deku, when he’d decided to throw the dog a bone during prom. But the power balance was gradually shifting, and it didn’t sit well with him. Deku kept disregarding the rules and installing his own, so Katsuki fought and fought, and if that cold-blooded, green-eyed stare was any indication, Deku was more than happy to vanquish him no matter what it took.
So If Deku was going to take his frustrations out on him, then he'd do the fucking same to that loser.
The more he struggled, the more suffocating Deku got. Like sludge all over again, pulling him in every direction, stifling all attempts to escape. It got so overwhelming that he tried, for once, to just go along with it – he actually gave Deku a chance.
And what did he get out of it?
A dislocated hip.
At least, Katsuki thought, as he hobbled to his room, he’d finally resisted the magnetic pull of that bastard’s dick.
That incident had opened his eyes to many things. One of which was still fresh in his mind, an image that he couldn’t put away. Neither could he keep it to himself.
So he checked the contact list on his phone, and pressed the name at the very top.
“All Might,” he said, the teacher’s baritone voice expressing confusion on the other end. He sounded like he’d been roused from his sleep. Who knows what time it was in America right now?
“Listen. There’s something Deku hasn’t told you.”
--
Katsuki didn’t need anyone.
Not the useless extras in his class, who were perfectly content to discuss him behind his back, but fell quiet immediately whenever they saw him, averting their gazes like the useless cowards they were.
Not Deku or Todoroki, who looked at him in that similarly annoying way, like he were an unfinished puzzle and they were trying to figure out where to stick the missing pieces.
Not even Kirishima, who’d shown up to his door after the debacle and whimpered “I wasn’t good enough for you, was I?”, whose downright miserable look had haunted him for quite some time. God, he’d never seen him look that sad.
He was perfectly content to hole up in his room until this all blew over – because it would, at some point. It had to. Everyone’d get bored and move on to the next dumb incident in their class.
Only, Katsuki was robbed of his alone time when Aizawa decided it was mandatory to attend the Class 1-A & 1-B soiree.
And whose fucking idea was it? Naturally, that piece of shit, Monoma’s. The teachers had rejected Monoma’s idea to hold a Homecoming celebration, but with the upcoming End of Year Program, they’d realized that there had been a dearth in opportunities for 1-A and 1-B to interact. So they bent backwards for the little shit anyway.
It was stupid of Aizawa to announce it on the day itself, and it was even stupider for Class 1-B to literally show up at their doorstep that same evening, cornering them with food and drinks. The tension had been understandably thick, and all Katsuki wanted to do was disappear upstairs as 1-B cast him wary looks.
“Yoooo, Bakugo!” Tetsu called, which made him do a double-take. “How’s it going, ma—” but all of a sudden Kirishima was there, steering him well away from Katsuki and whispering in his ear.
Katsuki’s heart lurched.
The sad part? He couldn’t even blame Kirishima for being angry. He’d never seen Kirishima cry like that, and even he wasn’t heartless enough to not feel guilt at having turned that hopeful face into one of despair.
And now he was alone, because Kirishima used to be his buffer for interaction with everyone else.
Fuck.
The weld-guy and Yaoyorozu were stealing glances at one another. Ojiro and Hagakure were still giving each other the silent treatment, and it was hard to miss the dirty looks classmates threw at Ojiro when the ghost girl from 1-B engaged him in conversation.
At least Katsuki wasn’t the only one having an absolutely shitty time.
People broke off into groups, a bunch of Class 1-B guys congratulating Sero for managing to turn his entire face into one big abscess. Dumbass didn’t realize he was going to die of sepsis at this rate.
Some more idiots were trying to get a beer pong table set up in the corner.
“So,” someone said, behind him. He turned his head and saw Todoroki’s irritatingly blank face. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
It struck him that very recently, Todoroki had accused him of ‘stealing’ Deku, then threatened him, then Todoroki had taken to kissing Midoriya on the cheek in front of him, determined to mark his territory. It had been equally sad as it was laughable. He’d seen grade schoolers kiss with more finesse.
Then Todoroki had attacked him… Then slept with him. And yeah, that was the only bright spot in a sea full of muddled interactions. Todoroki was one confused motherfucker, and it had surprised Katsuki that he even knew where to stick his dick, given his awkwardness.
And now Todoroki was chatting him up at a lame-ass party.
“We’re supposed to be getting to know class 1-B, idiot, not each other.”
“Yeah. I suppose we know each other pretty well already.”
His cheeks grew warm. He knew precisely what Todoroki was hinting at and did not appreciate the insinuation.
“How come you’re not interacting with any of 1-B?”
“Because none of them are worth my time,” Katsuki replied.
“Does that mean I’m worth your ti—”
Katsuki walked off, because no, no, no, he was not going to be further reminded of this whole bizarre situation. Thankfully, Deku was too busy creaming himself asking various 1-B students about their quirks, and maybe it was a good thing that Kirishima had retreated to a corner with Tetsu, Kaminari and Kendou.
He’d hated how he’d automatically looked for them in the crowd, how he felt heat prickling at his nape every time he realized he was sharing a room with the three goddamn people he’d slept with. They seemed to be actively avoiding each other, though, which was a relief. Hopefully that was an indication that there would be no outbursts tonight.
“Gather ‘round, everyone!” Monoma bellowed. Iida and Shinsou (who was always hanging around now, hero-wannabe that he was) were standing on either side of him, their faces set.
That didn’t mean anything good.
Some were already crowded around the dining tables, which they’d brought out into the common room and pushed together to make one massively long one. Monoma stood at one end, like he was about to lead a boardroom meeting.
“What do you say we play our first party game?” There were more grumbles than cheers, but as usual, none of that deterred Monoma. “A simple game of ‘I have never’ so we can all get to know each other better. But! There’s a twist. I’m sure you all know our future classmate at 2-B, Shinsou—”
“Actually,” Shinsou said. “I haven’t decided yet but—”
“Our classmate Shinsou here will use his quirk so that no one will be able to lie. Pretty simple, really.”
“Oooh,” Mina said, complete with a theatrical gasp. “I’ve never played it that way before!”
“Isn’t that a bit…” Ojiro’s voice trailed off.
“Looks like someone’s afraid to tell the truth,” Hagakure muttered, crossing her arms.
What was it with his classmates and airing their dirty laundry for everyone to see?
“You look scared, 1-A. Not feeling brave tonight?”
Iida raised his palm in a physical ‘stop’ gesture. “Monoma, this is highly unethical!”
“If you have nothing to hide, then you have nothing to fear. They’re just gonna be a couple of silly questions. What's the harm?”
“Of course, we’re all playing!” Mina said, looking around at them. “Right, guys?”
But more than a fair few of them, like Tokoyami and Shouji, looked uncertain.
Monoma’s smirk grew wider. “Oh, well if some want to back out then—”
“Shut up and start already,” Katsuki said, against his better judgment. “So we can get this over with and you can return to the hole you crawled out of.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear.”
Monoma had come prepared, and everyone surrounded the tables as cups were passed around. Each person ended up with ten cups of juice in front of them. Sero had been too ill to spike the juice this time, with no one to take up the mantle in his stead.
The vine-haired girl mumbled something about how they were hurting the environment, but for the most part, everyone’s hesitation had melted away at they huddled together. Students chattered around Katsuki, excited and tense.
“Someone’s gonna have to pass my cups to me!” Mineta squeaked from underneath one of the tables.
Katsuki was among a gaggle of 1-B girls, and did his best to ignore Kirishima’s presence somewhere to his left. Todoroki stood on the side adjacent to his, and Deku was half-hidden by the much bigger bodies of Satou and Shouji across him.
“Whoever has the most empty cups by the end is the winner, I suppose,” Monoma said, eyes full of mirth. “Is everyone ready?”
There was a chorus of yeses. Some had briefly hesitated before chiming in their own affirmative. The moment the word left Katsuki’s lips, he felt a chill wash over him – Shinsou’s quirk – like his brain had been dunked in ice cold water.
“Okay. Whenever Monoma starts a statement with ‘I’ve never’, you will drink from your cup if and only if you have done the action he described,” Shinsou declared. “Alright?”
“Right!” Everyone said, with slightly more confidence.
“Let’s start with something easy,” Monoma said. “Ten. I’ve never wanted to be a hero.”
Everyone raised their cups to their lips and drank, then surprised murmurs erupted from the crowd as they marveled at the efficiency of Shinsou’s quirk. Katsuki blinked down at his empty cup. He hadn’t even had time to try to refuse the command. It had happened so quickly, his body moving on its own.
“See? That was just to test if everyone obeyed Shinsou’s quirk. Great job, Shinsou.”
There were sighs of relief, but Katsuki remained suspicious. No way would they all be fluffy questions like these. Monoma was definitely up to something, having lulled everyone into a false sense of security.
“Nine. I’ve never kissed anyone.”
There it was.
Katsuki automatically grabbed another cup, raising it to his lips. Already, his heart was racing and his sense of foreboding increased.
He shouldn’t have done this. Monoma wouldn’t pull his punches, and all he could hope for was that, with forty other people in the room, it would be much more difficult to stand out. He was less likely to be noticed, especially if most other people drank as well, which they did.
Only a few, Shouji and Mineta included, hadn’t moved. Some reacted in surprise at Satou’s response, but he smiled guiltily as he put down his empty cup, and shrugged.
Right, Katsuki ought to do the same no matter what the question was. Be dismissive. Brush it off like it’s nothing. Don’t give a shit, no matter what happens.
“Eight. I’ve never had sex.”
Fewer people made a grab for their cups this time. Katsuki felt the stares of 1-B on him as he was among less than half of the 1-A students who drank.
“This is so crude,” Yaoyorozu murmured, her cup untouched.
“We should really put a stop to this,” Iida added beside her, looking like he’d swallowed a lemon. His cup was similarly full.
“Seven. I’ve never had quirk sex.”
It was roughly the same group of people who drank the previous time, which wasn’t shocking in any way. Typical that anyone who fucked would want to try it out with their quirk. Katsuki was distantly aware that Todoroki, Kirishima and Deku had all taken their sips very quickly.
He suppressed the urge to wipe at the sweat beading at his forehead. A familiar wetness was soaking his underwear, making him queasy.
For fuck’s sake. Not now!
“Six. I’ve never fantasized about having sex with my classmate.”
People were groaning as they drank.
“Someone pass me my cup!” Mineta squealed.
On the other side of the room, there was a high-pitched cry.
“Nooo!”
Uraraka’s hand was on her other wrist, trying to stop herself from drinking the juice. But after a futile attempt at wrestling with her own arm, she relented.
“Ooooh, U-ra-ra-ka!” Mina and Jirou patted her shoulders, grinning mischievously. Likewise, Class 1-B were laughing at the more prudish members who’d drank.
“Five. I’ve never had sex with someone from my own class.”
Kendou and Tetsu high-fived as they downed the contents of their cups. Giggles resounded in the common room as couples caught each other’s eyes. Katsuki hoped he could slip by, amidst the commotion, and stared resolutely at the table as he emptied yet another cup.
“Nice one, Kirishima!” Someone yelled.
His hopes were instantly dashed, though, as a guy from class 1-B actually pointed at him when he set down his cup, the asshole.
“Four. I’ve never had sex with more than one person.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere!”
Mina drank. So did Hagakure, and a few from class 1-B. A mild relief, meaning Katsuki doing so as well wasn’t a big deal.
“Ojiro didn’t touch his cup?!”
“Neither did Midoriya!”
The girls were looking in between Ojiro and Deku, whose fists remained clenched at his side.
Just three more rounds. He couldn’t imagine what else Monoma could think to ask, but he dreaded the possibilities. Three more rounds. After this, he could leave, and no one would fucking bother him.
But of course, Mineta decided at that very moment to be an absolute shithead.
“Woah, look at Bakugo’s! He’s finished every cup so far!”
He gritted his teeth as the stares and whispers were now directed at him.
“So?” He snapped. “Just because you’re not getting any, doesn’t mean everyone else shouldn’t be allowed to!”
It took the heat off of him by just a smidge, as laughter echoed from all sides. But it easily overpowered by the whispering. He didn’t have to look around to know that most eyes remained fixed on him still, as Monoma moved on to the next round.
“Three. I’ve never had sex with more than two people.”
Ah, fuck.
Ultimately, it was just him and a guy in Class 1-B who drank. In reaction, many curious looks from 1-A immediately turned quizzical. They weren’t bothering to hide their open-mouthed glances anymore.
…Right, the bastards didn’t know about Todoroki and were probably wondering who the third person was. Now they were going to hone in on that information like vultures. But as long as Monoma didn’t say anything too specific, they could pry that secret from his cold, dead hands.
“Two. I’ve never had a quirk that lets me produce lubricant from my own ass.”
Katsuki clutched the cup tightly, but Shinsou’s quirk prevented him from crushing it outright. The question affirmed his misgivings from the beginning: this game had been rigged from the start. Monoma had specifically targeted him.
Internally screaming, Katsuki drank.
So did Yaoyorozu, Mina and Tsuyu. Someone tried to high-five Sero.
There was a low whistle from somewhere in the crowd, people dropping all pretense and talking openly now. The back of his neck felt warm as he pretended not to see the matching smirks from every direction. He didn’t like the way they were looking at him. It reminded him of that damn doctor, and his creepy questions.
“Yaoyorozu? Could she be even more perfect?” Some 1-B asshole said.
“Pfft, Bakugo?” another one added, followed by more laughter and pointing.
“I knew I wouldn’t like this game,” Tsuyu said morosely, while Yaoyorozu flushed.
“Ugh, Monoma! You’re such a dick!” Mina said, wiping at her mouth. But Monoma simply cackled, waving his hand dismissively.
“What’s the big deal? Just one more!”
Monoma looked directly at him, his eyes cold. Something was telling Katsuki to run, or cover his ears, or do anything other than just stand there with his last filled cup in front of him, sitting there ominously with nine empty ones surrounding it.
He was now literally at Monoma’s mercy, with one round to go.
Should he throw an explosion to stop him? So what if he ‘lost’? There were much bigger things at stake. He flexed his hand threateningly, but before he could contemplate the thought further, the words flew out of Monoma’s mouth:
One.
“I’ve never gotten fucked in my self-lubricating ass by Kirishima—”
Fuck, fuck, fuck—
“—Midoriya—”
NO!
Tremors wracked his shoulders. He sucked in a startled breath.
“—AND Todoroki within the SAME week!”
With an exasperated groan, Katsuki bent forward. His sweat was getting into his eyes, the last cup shifting in and out of focus as he helplessly watched his own hand move of its volition
He could feel forty pairs of eyes on his hand, as it inched closer and closer. His teeth were gritted, knuckles white, fingers crooked, in his attempts to stop his own body.
But he wasn’t in control, Shinsou’s quirk overpowering his will and his entire form was shaking from the strain of wanting to stop, but at the same time, insisting on completing the task as ordered.
His hand closed around the plastic and raised it to his lips. The juice sloshed around and just as it touched his mouth—
Boom!
The cup blew up, sending juice and bits of charred plastic splattering all over the students beside him, who jumped back with cries of dismay.
He was panting, both hands on the table as the room went quiet. Everyone gawked.
Monoma let out a low chuckle.
“…I think we have our winner.”
Katsuki swiveled around and headed straight for the door.
“Wait, Kacchan—”
“Katsuki—”
“Bakugo!”
He picked up his pace, but could not escape the murmurs rising from everyone else, indistinct but loud reactions, the cackling and taunting of Monoma, the protests from 1-A on his behalf.
“Oh, God! Look at that, now they’re actually trying to decide who’s gonna go after him! Hahaha, this is just rich—”
Katsuki slammed the front door behind him, breathing hard.
His vision was blurring again because, of course, he just had to slick up now, upon being humiliated. No one was on his side, not even his own fucking body. But the last thing he could do was go back in there. So he ran.
Straight for Aizawa.
Katsuki stood outside on the steps as he waited for the homeroom teacher to come out. It took some time for him to arrive, and he stared at Katsuki, irritated, making a show of checking his watch.
“Bakugo, you’re supposed to be at the party—”
“Could I borrow a sleeping bag,” he blurted out.
“What for?”
“For sleeping.”
Aizawa looked at him for one long, agonizing moment, then turned his head toward Heights Alliance.
“…Look,” he sighed. “if you won’t tell me—”
“I don’t want to be in the dorms right now. I just can’t be,” he said, lowering his gaze. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Please.”
Shame clawed at his gut at having let his desperation show, but it did the trick, because Aizawa didn’t ask any more questions. Instead, he let him use a spare room in the teacher’s dorms, under the condition that he be gone the next morning before anyone else woke up.
The room itself was spartan as they came, nothing aside from a bed and a side table. Katsuki threw himself down on it, thoughts spiraling in his head.
It was hard not to wonder what was going on back at Heights Alliance, whether they were talking about him and— fuck no, he didn’t care, they could say whatever shit they wanted.
He was over it.
So they knew about his self-lube, big fucking deal. So they knew about the three stooges. He’d just kick the ass of anyone who tried to give him shit for it.
Despite his self-assurances, he couldn’t sleep, though, and ended up browsing shit on his phone until the battery died.
--
The whispers. The muttering. The pointing, and laughing.
He’d gotten that since the sludge incident and since then, it had never stopped. He was so, so done.
It persisted even now, as he crossed the grounds back to his dorm in the same clothing he’d worn last night. And he’d caught the eye of apparently more than just a few students.
Why were there so many people just walking around, dammit? Didn’t they have class?
Two people, who had their heads buried in a magazine, peered up to look at him. Their eyes widened.
“Oh, fuck, there he is.”
“…Another walk of shame…”
“…Teacher’s dorm?!”
They weren’t talking any sense, and he wasn’t gonna waste his time fretting over whatever they were speculating about this time. He was already late for class.
True enough, Heights Alliance appeared to be completely empty at first glance.
Then Katsuki saw the bright shock of hair poking out from one of the couches. Kaminari, the perpetual straggler, wasn’t in a hurry at all, even though class had started five minutes ago. He was browsing through an unfamiliar magazine while munching on a cupcake obviously stolen from Satou.
He looked up, and pulled the deer-in-headlights look as soon as he saw Katsuki approach. Scrambling, he frantically tried to swallow the cupcake whole, while stuffing the magazine in his bag at the same time.
Bits of cupcake now decorated the couch, and half of the magazine was still sticking out of his backpack.
“Uh, morning, Bakugo. You’re back! Morning, morning!”
“Did you fry yourself this early or some shit? Why are you looking at me like that?”
As if Katsuki was going to devour him…?
Kaminari let out a strange laugh as he jumped to his feet. “Sorry, uh, uh, I’m totally flattered but I don’t like you in that way. Gotta-go-to-class-now-BYE!” Then he scampered out the door as Katsuki yelled after him.
“What?!”
In Kaminari’s haste, the magazine in his bag had fallen out.
Katsuki picked it up. It wasn’t a magazine after all, but rather a home-made booklet, made up of sheets of paper stapled together and a colorful front page serving as their cover.
Upon closer examination, he felt the blood drain from his face.
Quirk Sex
By 1-A
The blocky letters were directly above a grid made up of rows and rows of pictures, consisting of everyone in their class. All twenty faces, including his own, stared back at him. Multi-colored arrows swirled around the page, connecting pictures to one another.
His own had three lines, moreso than anyone else in the class, pointing to Kirishima, Deku and Todoroki.
He should’ve burned the copy immediately. Nothing he found inside would be anything good, and he knew in an instant anyway who’d been behind this.
With shaking hands, he leafed through it.
The first page was dedicated to Hagakure.
It listed her sexual history, her so-called 'quirk sex abilities' (“Yes, your dick DOES disappear when it goes inside!”), her known partners, including some obviously fake testimonial supposedly written by Ojiro.
It had everything. Pros and cons to fucking her. (“Con: her wearing lingerie would just look creepy instead of hot”). Her measurements. Some ‘most likely to’ blurb, with a sexual slant.
He already knew what he was going to find in his. But as he turned the pages, he saw that some of their other classmates had very little information to their pages, like Satou and Shouji, but the writings weren’t any less cruel. (“Con: keeps the mask on even during sex, though that might be a pro, because who knows what he looks like under there? There must be a reason he keeps it on, right?”)
He was the only one with a two-page spread to himself.
Katsuki Bakugo, the class bicycle of 1-A
Most likely to die taking a cock he couldn’t handle
Entire paragraphs dedicated to his self-lubrication.
Weird implications that he had probably slept with dozens more people ‘who had yet to step forward’.
Made-up interviews with Deku, Kirishima and Todoroki, which were so obviously fake (because really, would Todoroki ever say the phrase “tight despite being such a slutty bitch”?) that he would’ve laughed it off, except he knew that the whole school would eat this shit up without a second thought.
The booklet went up in flames.
Ice-cold dread was spreading in his chest. How many of these things were distributed? Surely, no one would give a fuck beyond the people in class 1-A and 1-B, right? But Katsuki thought back to all the dirty looks they’d gotten during the cultural festival. The school had hated them for a long time, and no doubt they’d have a field day with this.
Just like before, he wouldn’t let them win.
Katsuki hurried to class, keeping his head down. Somehow there were still assholes milling about, though, and they must’ve taken his quietness as a sign of submission because the insults this time were louder, more direct.
“Whore,” someone said, with a poorly-disguised cough.
“Fuckin’ cheater,” muttered another.
“THINK FAST, SLUT!”
Katsuki raised his arm and blew up whatever had been lobbed at him. It splattered, pieces of latex coating his hand and shirt, face and hair were left dripping in a white substance. For one terrified moment, he’d thought he’d been covered in body fluids. But a sweet smell permeated his nostrils and he brushed it away easily, his fingers dripping with it.
Milk.
He sputtered, wiping his eyes clear just to see various groups of students laughing. Any one of them could’ve thrown it, but he couldn’t determine who, and it was pissing him off—
“Guess he’s used to being covered in spunk,” someone sniggered.
“Quick, someone take a picture!”
Yelling, as it turns out, did nothing. Neither did shooting flames out of his hands, which may have made them scatter, but the mirth was still evident on their faces. You’d think he’d just thrown confetti.
He tried not to fret about the terrifying realization that no one was afraid of him anymore, as he headed back to Heights Alliance to clean himself up.
--
“Bakugo, you’re late,” Midnight said exasperatedly. “Class started forty-five minutes ago. What were you doing?”
“Aside from getting boned?” Mineta sniggered.
“The fuck did you say, you little runt?”
“Nothing, nothing. Hey, try not to get your lube all over me, alright? I just took a shower.”
“Settle down! Bakugo, take your seat.”
Mineta was openly mocking him now, too. Cheeky fucker didn’t even flinch from Katsuki’s glare.
It made him even more uneasy.
--
By noon, apparently he’d slept with every boy of 1-A, half the boys in 1-B, and at least three of the staff. The names of teachers being tossed around made him want to throw up.
They were uncreative, to say the least. You could only shout “slut” or “whore” so many times before he’d stopped bothering to look.
One person actually slapped him on the lower back, probably aiming for his ass but missed, but when he whirled around they were gone, having disappeared into the crowd.
He was soon stopped by another student, one whose face was so plain that he knew he’d instantly forget it the moment he looked away.
“Hey, Bakugo,” the guy said, his tone disconcertingly friendly as he pressed a piece of paper into Katsuki’s hands.
Katsuki glared down at it.
Written on it was the guy’s building name, floor and dorm number.
“Didn’t ask for these,” Katsuki said, burning it to a crisp.
“C’mon, no need to be cute.”
“I’m not being—look, fuck off before I murder you.”
“Don’t tell me I gotta pay you. That’s not fair, babe, everyone else got it for free.” And the fucker actually reached around, and grabbed his ass and squeezed.
Katsuki yelled, blasting him straight into a wall.
“There is no ‘everyone else’! Get near me again and I’m ending you!”
As he walked off, he heard someone come to the asshole’s aid, the two conversing in low voices.
“…Bitch is just playing hard to get...”
“Yeah, he so wants my dick…”
He could’ve sworn he’d just breathed fire.
--
“Don’t bother taking your books out. We’re having a bull session.”
Their classroom was now devoid of furniture, and Katsuki held his breath in anticipation of another pointless Aizawa-ism.
“What’s that?”
“Who’ll be the bull and who’s gonna be the cu—” Aizawa raised a hand and glared at Mineta, shutting him up instantly.
“You will sit in a circle and everyone will have their chance to speak. You will express your honest feelings toward any person or persons in the circle, whether good or bad.”
“So it’s like Truth or Dare,” Mina quipped. “Except it’s all truths!”
“This isn’t one of your party games,” Aizawa said dryly. “I’ve tried, for weeks, to get you to talk to each other. But it hasn’t been working, clearly. You still don’t understand that none of you are comic book characters. You can’t just punch away every problem. You need to talk. Many more conflicts will be resolved through proper communication, not violence.”
Somewhere near the front of the crowd, Kirishima visibly flinched.
“I have it on good authority that there are a lot of interpersonal issues in this class. That cannot be the case, especially with the school year about to end. You have two more years to spend together. Your class is your family, and you should treat each other as such.”
He made a circular movement with his wrist, and everyone slowly found their spots. Katsuki sat cross-legged in between a shaking Kouda and an irate Tokayami.
This was going to be hell.
“Enough with the backstabbing, and lying, and ganging up on people. Talk. To. Each other. Face to face. Sort yourselves out. We’ll start with Tokoyami.”
“I have nothing to say,” he said immediately. “I have no ill will toward anyone. Even after… Even after prom.”
“Me too,” Shouji said, following suit. “I… Have nothing to say. Everyone in this class is a friend of mine.”
“I do have something to say,” Satou said, breaking the mold. He talked about some rando he dated, which for some reason, the girls found really touching. That seemed to get the ball rolling, because the next one in the circle, Yaoyorozu, spoke loud and clear.
“To whoever spread around the news about me, about us—I forgive you, but I do feel betrayed. And I would like to say to Mineta—”
“Yeah?” He perked up, wide-eyed and hopeful.
“You are a creep, and I really don’t like you.” His face fell.
“I would also like to say that Mineta’s a creep,” Hagakure said. “And to Ojiro… I’m sorry I accused you with little—er, okay, with no basis whatsoever, but… Would it have killed you to tell me upfront why you’d gone with class 1-B after prom? That’s all.”
“Thirding the sentiment that Mineta’s disgusting,” Mina said.
“Okay, I think we’ve established that everyone doesn’t like Mineta,” Aizawa cut in. “You don’t have to keep mentioning him, we get it.”
“What?! But I’m a lovable scamp!”
Everyone dutifully ignored him.
“Right, anyway.” Mina puffed up her cheeks. “Unlike Yaomomo, when I found out whoever leaked that stuff about me? I’m gonna melt their face. And to Kirishima—”
Kirishima, on Kouda’s other side, lifted his head in recognition.
“I’m sorry we kept teasing you about… You know.” Her gaze shifted to Katsuki for the briefest moments. “And to Sero… Honey, I hate to do this, but no sex until you see Recovery Girl. This is getting ridiculous.”
“But—”
“GO ALREADY!” Almost everyone in the class shouted.
Sero, his cheeks puffy, eyelids purple and engorged, choked out:
“Fine, fine! I will, after this! At least let me hear what everyone has to say. I myself don’t have anything to add, but…”
“Me neither,” Mineta chirped.
“Really, Mineta?” Aizawa gazed at him intently from the corner of the room. “You don’t have anything that you want to admit? Nothing at all?”
“No,” he said, crossing his arms.
“See me after class.”
Kaminari made an outburst, drowning out Mineta’s protests.
“Jirou, I never actually liked sounding! As a matter of fact, it really hurt!”
“So did being electrocuted, dumbass!” She replied, irritation palpable in her tone.
“You two…” Aizawa sighed.
“I don’t like that we keep fighting,” Kaminari followed up in a much smaller voice. “I wish we could get along again…”
“I have no problems with anyone!” Iida thundered.
“But Iida, you’re part of the problem,” Kaminari told him.
“Wh-wha-!”
“Yeah. Any time people would come anywhere close to arguing, you’d interrupt and try to separate them. Sometimes disagreements just happen, ya know? Gotta let them play out.”
“I apologize. I didn’t… I didn’t think…” He pushed his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. “Actually, I do have something to announce! I am formally going to start courting Hatsume Mei!”
Katsuki studied his fingernails while his classmates reacted with a collective ‘aww’. This was so sappy it was embarrassing just to watch.
“This is to Tokoyami,” Tsuyu said. “Before all this I thought no one would ever want me. When we kissed during Truth or Dare, I thought we’d end up together. I was so excited, but turns out I just… Wanted to be wanted. And now I’m realizing it’s perfectly fine to be alone. You’d known that all along, hadn’t you?”
Tokoyami nodded.
“I’m sorry. Friends?”
“Friends,” he said, with a click of his beak.
Jirou was pressing her earjacks together, blushing as everyone’s attention turned toward her.
“Kaminari… I don’t like fighting with you either. But I don’t think it’s so ridiculous to ask that you stop flirting with other girls, right?”
Next to her was Deku.
Deku was looking at him, then at Todoroki, then at Kirishima. Katsuki bared his teeth, silently daring him to mention him. He was prepared to leap across this godforsaken circle and tear him limb for limb.
“I’d like to apologize to, uh, Todoroki, for the stuff I did,” he said. Todoroki, who was only separated from Deku by Uraraka, leaned sideways to look him in the eye.
“You mean, cheating on me throughout the entire duration of our short-lived relationship?” He asked calmly.
Katsuki couldn't help but feel a bit smug, seeing their classmates shake their heads, some glaring daggers at Deku. It was high time the loser got what he deserved.
“Yeah, well… Yeah.”
After a brief pause, Deku looked straight at him.
“Also, er, it was me, who made Kacchan—”
“You dumb nerd, haven’t you spread around enough shit about me?!” He snarled.
“I—I didn’t—” Deku looked at him, eyes wide. “I just wanted to say, it’s my fault, because I—”
“Deku, I swear!” Katsuki pointed a finger at him threateningly. “If you say another fucking word, I’m going to kick the shit out of you so hard that you’ll be spending the entire summer needing physical therapy.”
“Bakugo,” Aizawa sighed. “You can’t…”
“DEKU!”
“I…” Deku shrunk back. “I have nothing else to say, then.”
“Oh my god,” Kaminari whispered, but since it was Kaminari, everyone could hear him anyway. “This was them flirting the whole time?”
“I, uh,” Uraraka began, still startled by their previous display. “Actually have no problem with anyone in class.” Her gaze traveled briefly toward Deku. “I just want all of us to get along again.”
“Your apology has been noted, Midoriya,” Todoroki said. “As for Bakugo—”
“No.”
“I haven’t even said anything.”
“Doesn’t matter what! The answer is no and you better keep your goddamn mouth shut, half and half!”
“I… Alright.” Todoroki fell quiet and stared at the floor.
“Bakugo, that is not how this works!” Aizawa slapped him upside the head with a strip of capture tape. “You can’t keep telling people not to talk to you.”
He turned around and glared. “I can if it involves talking shit about me, which I’ve had more than enough of in this day alone!”
After a brief staring match, Aizawa threw up his hands. “Fine. Next, Ojiro?”
“Well, I guess it’s high time I told everyone my secret,” he said, tail swishing anxiously. Everyone leaned closer. “My secret is that I… Collect stamps. Reiko of 1-B had a particular stamp I wanted… And she offered to trade it to me in exchange for doing her homework right after prom. I’m really sorry.”
Silence.
It was the most underwhelming twist known to man. Which they should’ve seen coming, really, from a boring-ass guy like Ojiro.
“You kept that from me this whole time?!” Hagakure shrieked.
“My turn!” Aoyama pronounced. “I have a beautiful girlfriend, and some people insist that I am lying, but I am most certainly am not.”
“…Sure, Aoyama."
Kirishima barely spoke. His eyes stayed downcast, and he didn’t address anyone in particular, but everyone knew who he was talking to.
“I’m still figuring stuff out. I’m trying to forgive you, but right now I just can’t.”
And that fucking hurt.
“N-nothing to say,” Kouda said.
“Me either,” Katsuki added, already moving to get up as he was the last in the circle to speak.
“Bakugo, you have to say something,” Aizawa ordered.
“Fine, then.” He plopped back down. “You, Deku, go fuck yourself, you, Todoroki, go fuck yourself, and Kirishima…. I-I really…” He wanted to look Kirishima in the eye, and to his credit, the redhead at least acknowleged him by lifting his head. Their gazes locked.
But for some reason Katsuki felt himself deflating.
“I… Don’t have anything to say to you… Alright?”
Kirishima’s eyes lowered in disappointment.
Aizawa sounded equally dissatisfied with Katsuki’s statement. “Bakugo, Todoroki, Midoriya, Kirishima. Please stay after class as well.”
“Ooooh—!"
The rest of the class headed for the door, leaving behind the four of them with Mineta.
“This is so fucking weird, knowing Bakugo’s done it with all of them…” Fucking Sero.
“And to think they’re all gonna be in the same room…” Fucking Kaminari.
Aizawa left briefly as well, saying he had to get something in his office. Which meant… Katsuki was alone with the three of them (and Mineta).
This was awkward.
This was really fucking awkward.
And it was about to get even more awkward because he’d—
He’d started leaking again. And it was… Obvious, because at the same time, he started sniffling.
He hated that they all instantly knew what was happening, because they all made subtle movements when they heard him. Deku’s gaze had flitted toward him, Kirishima looked down, flushing and Todoroki’s fist clenched.
Suffice to say, he hadn’t anticipated a scenario like this playing out, but how was he to know, at the time, the full repercussions of sleeping with multiple people who happened to all be in the same class?
“Eurgh, that smell!” Mineta said, lifting his shirt to cover his nose. “Are you seriously lubing yourself up right now, Bakugo? Y-you guys aren’t gonna start fucking him in front of me, are you?”
“Shut up, Mineta,” everyone else said in unison, before proceeding to glower at each other.
Katsuki had Mineta dangling in his grip and begging for mercy when Aizawa re-entered.
“Put him down, Bakugo.”
He sat at the teacher’s desk, and slapped a copy of Quirk Sex down on the table. “Mineta, please explain this.”
“I-I had nothing to do with it!”
“It says here you have a ‘massive ten-incher’.”
“How do you know that’s not true?” Mineta said petulantly.
“It also says you slept with—” Aizawa flipped through the pages, until he arrived at Mineta’s. “—One hundred, and I quote, ‘busty, extremely hot women’. No other profile is even remotely close to flattering.”
“Based on hearsay, so you can’t prove or disprove anything!”
Aizawa fixed him with one of his quirk-canceling glares, although Katsuki suspected that the glowing eyes were more for intimidation this time around.
“A 1-B student stepped forward and admitted to me that you slept in their building one night, a while back, in exchange for feeding information on your classmates to Monoma.”
“They kicked me out! What was I supposed to do? Where was I supposed to stay?” Mineta snivelled.
“You were supposed to report directly to me, not breach the privacies of your friends and betray the entire class. Monoma will be dealt with, and so will you. We will call your parents and decide what to do with you. Get out.”
It took several long minutes, to get the sobbing Mineta off the floor and out of the room. Todoroki had to create an ice path toward the door, so that a simple nudge would send the little traitor zipping out into the hall.
They were down to four, just Katsuki and his… Whatevers.
“We’ll be talking to each of you in private. I’ll be handing out appointment slips so you’ll know the time, date and place of your interviews—"
“Why us?” Deku asked. “Why not the other sixteen of our classmates who were also targeted by this?”
“The school has specific concerns that only affect you four. I didn’t decide this,” he added, which only made the twisting in Katsuki’s gut worse. “The interviews will be conducted separately, though, so don’t worry.”
“That is the least of my concerns,” Todoroki spoke up. “Are you implying that we’re in trouble? For having sex with Bakugo?”
Katsuki made a noise of frustration, while Deku and Kirishima winced.
FUCK Todoroki and his tendency to blurt out whatever came to his dumb brick head, seriously, holy shit.
“No, you’re not in trouble,” Aizawa said, maintaining a purposefully blank expression. “But there is a crucial element to this issue that UA is eager to get to the bottom of. You three may leave now. I’d like a word with Bakugo alone.”
They trudged out, content to ignore each other once more. Kirishima had turned around to look at him, though, for one moment, which made Katsuki feel slightly less shitty.
Aizawa seemed content to let Katsuki stand there, suffering in silence for almost a minute, before he asked him the stupidest question known to man.
“Bakugo, are you alright?”
“Just peachy. So are we done.” He held out his hand, waiting for Aizawa to hand him the appointment slip.
The teacher looked very much like he wanted to say something, but instead he blinked and, relenting, handed Katsuki a sheet of paper.
Katsuki turned around to leave, and there was a jerking noise as Aizawa’s chair knocked against the desk.
“Bakugo.”
He then turned back, annoyed.
“What?”
Aizawa was running his hand over his face, which he tended to do when stressed.
“…Pull up your damn pants. This isn’t a prison.”
--
There was no way he was going to the cafeteria, so he headed to Heights Alliance instead. It was bound to be empty at lunch time, since everyone preferred Lunch Rush’s meals to their own slop. But Katsuki wasn’t everyone.
He was taken aback upon seeing that the common room was filled by all the girls in their class, who were huddled close together and seemed to be deep in discussion.
They abruptly stopped, turning altogether when they saw him in the doorway.
“Ah, sorry, Bakugo!” Uraraka said. “We’ll move somewhere else so we won’t bother you!”
“Cool it,” he said, before they could get up. “I’m gonna go eat.”
He snorted, registering their frightened looks.
The girls were acting like he wanted to kill them, while the boys behaved like Katsuki wanted to fuck them. Pathetic.
To his annoyance, the dining table was taken as well, occupied by a pair of people he’d least expected. Ojiro gave him one look before scampering off, which left…
“The hell are you doing here? Get out.”
“I was here first. Aizawa said I should immerse myself in both classes before I make a decision.”
Shinsou was eating cup noodles (shit was unhealthy as fuck, no wonder he looked like a zombie), and Katsuki wrinkled his nose as he pulled out some beef sukiyaki and popped it in the microwave.
“Doesn’t matter. You don’t belong here.”
“And why are you here?” Shinsou said, but his expression indicated that he did not particularly care to hear the answer. “You think you’re the only one who’s been treated like shit because of your quirk? Couldn’t last a single day with people not leaving you alone about it so now you’re avoiding everyone?”
“If I’m avoiding everyone then how am I still standing here talking to you, dumbass?”
Shinsou smirked, seemingly glad that Katsuki had argued back. It made him madder. He slammed his plate of beef down on the table, taking a seat that deliberately left an empty chair between them.
“We might be classmates next year, you know.”
Katsuki made a non-committal noise, as he shoved some beef into his mouth, ripping it into shreds with his teeth. All he’d wanted was one peaceful meal for fuck’s sake, and now he had to deal with Mindfuck McGee.
“We already have too many purple-haired freaks in our class.”
“Oh, comparing me to Mineta now. That’s cold.”
“Don’t join 1-A,” he said, glaring, but Shinsou remained stone-faced as always.
“Or else, what, you’ll sleep with me? Sounds more like an incentive than a threat.”
“Fuck off!”
In his anger, he knocked his thermos off the table, and had to bend over to retrieve it. Behind him, Shinsou made a choking noise.
“Okay… Bakugo, I honestly don’t give a shit how many people you sleep with and who, but… What’s going on? Is this some kind of phase? Problems at home, maybe?”
“The fuck are you talking about?” He sat down, settling into his lunch despite the pounding in his head.
“The tattoo? It’s a bit much.”
“What tattoo?”
“The one on your lower back.”
Katsuki jumped to his feet and twisted, trying to catch a glimpse of the back of his waist. He could see a hint of ink, some dark-tinted spiraling design that branched out sideways, nearly reaching his hips.
“FUCK! That shitty extra—”
He had no mirror, so he had to awkwardly position himself in front of the fridge for a clear reflection of his back, his neck twisting as far as it would allow. All while Shinsou sipped at his juicebox.
“GODDAMMIT!”
Fuming, he grabbed some tissue, soaked it in water and started rubbing at the spot.
“Who’s Mikito?” Shinsou asked.
“What?”
“That’s what it says. ‘Property of Mi— Ah.” Realization dawned on his face and the fucker tried to hide his smile by slurping on noodles. “…Nevermind, I get it now.”
“FUCK OFF!”
He would rip off his own skin if he had to, just to get this dumb thing off, but the more he scraped at it, the more it sunk in that whatever quirk had been used on him had produced a realistic tattoo, one that couldn’t be washed off.
“Go to Recovery Girl."
“Stop talking to me. It won’t – come off – shit—”
Shinsou sighed, and reached for his own bag before pulling out something that resembled chapstick. Katsuki stared at it disbelievingly.
“Try this. It’s an eyebag concealer, but same principle applies, I think.” At Katsuki’s withering look, he shrugged. “I didn’t buy this, it was a gag gift.”
“If it obviously didn’t work for your sorry excuse for a face, why the fuck would it work for me?”
“Well I didn’t say I actually used it now, did I? …If you don’t want it, fine—”
Katsuki swiped it from him, and start swiping it blindly at the general area of the tattoo. He heard a sigh behind him, hands grabbing the concealer back.
“Let me do it.”
“No, don’t touch me!”
“Said the whore uncharacteristically,” he heard Shinsou mutter to himself. Stiff with rage, he felt the tube running from left to right on his lower back. The motion was repeated a few more times.
“There. Was that so hard?”
“Yes,” he bit out.
“It’s a bit cakey but still better than flashing everyone your tramp sta—”
“I’ll kill you.”
They went back to eating in silence, and Katsuki almost started to enjoy Shinsou’s company but the nosy fucker decided to start yapping again.
“So, what’s the deal with those three?”
“I thought you said you don’t care about who I sleep with.”
“I don’t. But I am curious as to why you slept with them in particular. Everyone’s been speculating on what sort of qualifications one needs to get you in the sack.”
“What?”
“For example.” Was that a hint of humor in Shinsou’s dead eyes? It made him look even more off-putting than usual. “If I offered to sleep with you right now, would you say yes? And if no, why not? What makes them in particular so special, huh?”
“They’re not fucking special, alright? Leave me alone!”
“So you’re saying this whole love square or whatever—”
Katsuki wanted to beat him over the head for using the term ‘love square’.
“—Just happened by chance? All three of them happened to share the same amazing qualities? Although they’re slightly different, I suppose… Kirishima’s well-liked, Midoriya’s well-respected and Todoroki’s well-known. I’m sensing an obvious pattern here. Those are pretty crazy standards, now that I think about it…”
“How ‘bout you stop,” he growled. “Trying to psychoanalyze me? I don’t recall hiring you as a shrink.”
“Oh, but that’s what has the entire school in a tizzy. It’s not just the self-lubricating thing.”
Katsuki placed his head in his hands and groaned.
“It’s that Bakugo Katsuki willingly slept with not just anyone, but with three very specific people. So ‘why those three’? is the question on everyone’s minds.”
“Why should they even fucking care?”
“Don’t you get it?” Shinsou said, with a twisted sort of smile. “By bagging three of the most unattainable people in school, you’ve indirectly announced that you’re open for business, but only to a select few.”
Open for business. They saw him as just some product and it made him sick.
“If only the best get to fuck you, and fucking you makes someone the best, then… Well, even you can put two and two together, right?”
--
It was cruel and unusual punishment, to permanently associate him with those three, their names forever linked in history. What, just because they bumped uglies once or twice (or okay a couple of dozen times)? He could no longer be Bakugo Katsuki, upcoming hero, winner of the sports festival, first in the entrance exam. Now, he was Bakugo Katsuki, the boy who slept with three people in his class.
And no one saw it as an amazing feat. Instead, he’d been the target of derisive comments and dirty looks. As if he’d just… Lain there and allowed himself to be fucked, while those three fuckers got all the glory!
He hated how Kirishima, Todoroki and Deku (and God was he tired of reciting their names in his head like that) looked at him now. They probably thought he hadn’t noticed, but he damn well did.
They pitied him. And became weirdly protective of him as a result, just because they came in him a couple of times. Big deal. Didn't give them the right to constantly check on him with that same goddamn judgmental look every so often, like he was going to fall over and hurt himself if they took their eyes off of him for long enough.
Fuck that! He had handled them at their most volatile, taken their dicks like a champ and they dared to look down on him? He’d brought out their inner monster and tamed it! He’d taken on the same quirks they’d used to level buildings!
And how he was just a… Fucking prize, something to fuck in order to move up the ranks?
Fuck this.
He would show them all. If UA was going to tether him to these three assholes, then he would create so many more threads that the original ones wouldn’t matter any longer.
He fumed, strolling aimlessly through the grounds, half-dreading bumping into any more clusters of assholes, and half-hoping he’d find someone – anyone – who could help him sort out his frustrations.
Maybe his day wasn't so unlucky after all. There was a third year student, whose face was vaguely familiar, seated on a bench alone. He was bent so low, leaning over his book like he was trying to climb into it.
Katsuki walked right up to him and slammed his book shut. The student’s eyes shot up, and, upon recognizing him, his face flushed in recognition.
Good.
Katsuki ignored the part of him screaming that he had never spoken to this guy before, that he didn’t know who he was, that he should go back to his room and think, or talk to one of the three—
NO. He wanted nothing to do with them. They weren’t going to drag him down any longer.
“You’re the guy with the tentacles right?”
His conversation partner nodded reluctantly.
“What’s with that shy attitude? You’ve read the fucking guide book, haven’t you? Know what I can do?”
His half-lidded eyes strayed downward, so Katsuki knew what the answer was.
“Ever wanted to tentacle-fuck someone?”
The student’s jaw dropped.
“B-but I don’t know how to—”
“Aren’t you one of the top heroes in your grade? Come on.” He pulled the student off the bench and headed into the thick of trees.
“So…” The other male spoke slowly. “The rumors are true…?”
“Yeah, they’re fucking true and I’ll prove it to you. Now get over here and lemme ride your dick.”
“But… What about Kirishima and—?”
“Fuck, we’re not—” Katsuki made a noise of frustration as he pushed him down against a tree trunk. The boy flopped against it, his unkempt hair obscuring his eyes. “That’s nothing. They don’t own me, okay?! Show me what you’ve fuckin’ got.”
The student hesitated, and then his fingers transformed into tentacles. Yes. Katsuki could definitely work with this. He knelt down in front of him, and made sure to maintain eye contact as he popped the tendrils into his mouth, moaning to conceal his impulse to gag.
His mouth was drier than usual.
What the hell? Usually he’d be leaking copiously by now, which was odd, but he wasn’t gonna let that stop him.
“Wow…”
Wide eyes met his, and Katsuki settled between the student’s spread legs, hands picking at his zipper as a tentacle curled around his neck and urged him closer.
“God,” the other male gasped, and Katsuki grinned viciously at him, despite his mouth stuffed full of tentacles, despite the heavy feeling in his chest.
Good luck making it to class after this, elf-boy!
He palmed at the third year’s underwear. Sizeable, already half-hard. Maybe he could turn his dick into something crazy, too.
Katsuki was about to tell him so when something looped around his ankle and jerked him backward. He fell, unceremoniously, with a surprised yelp as his chest hit the ground and knocked all the air out of him.
The student’s attention wasn’t on him any longer, instead focused straight ahead. Horrified, at whoever was behind Katsuki.
“What do you think you’re doing, Kacchan?!”
And of course that’s when his slick decided to come out in full force.
Notes:
-I had to do a lot of restructuring for the latter part of this fic and have to apologize again for changing the targeted chapter count! Apparently poor Bakugo’s suffering couldn’t fit in one chapter, so it’s been split into two and I had to move some scenes over to the next one. Yet somehow it still ended up so long!
-I had a “bull session” in high school, and yes, it was equally traumatic. Funnily enough, just like Mineta, there was one guy in our class who’d somehow managed to piss everyone off, so almost everyone in the circle said some variation of how much they hated him!
-Will Bakugo ever lose his tramp stamp? Will Deku ever let Bakugo go? Will Kirishima and Bakugo have their fated talk? Stay tuned! Another Bakugo chapter to come!
Chapter 8: Bakugo Gets Lost In The Game
Summary:
Bakugo is screwed, but not in the fun way.
Notes:
Thank you so much to everyone who read and commented! Unfortunately due to being busier at my day job, I didn’t have time to reply to as many comments as I’d wanted to. Rest assured, though, I read and loved each and every one of them.
Thank you to:
heartsinhay, PastaPotatoes, Kazumii, Isi_Ana, SpiffyCo, Chlo_EEEE21, KathyBoug, tsubasahana (PhyllisCake), blueseagull, Katsuki90, Pancaked!!!, 1st time commenter, Explosiveicyhot, WiChill, KimaCat, Izanessa, Idkeiadh, filledyogurt, HK44, katieh28, XiaisDown, LacedSkeletons, DolmioPasta, ferries, kusuri, Rai, Kae, Somerandomperson, Ovmadns, two kinds of people, Mika.ela, Chibinatalia, nowiknow;), Cereza, You’reMyNicotine, Peer_Gynt, AnonforTDBK, dethna, RekkaKouyuu, Blue (anon), flintwolf, Wolfey
And thanks to the usual suspects on Discord and on my Twitter!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Sleepy morning sex had its perks.
Every now and then, he was content to lie back and let Kirishima take the reins. Closing his eyes, Katsuki was abstracted to everything else but the stretch of his body around a nice, full dick. Slippery but languid strokes procured a gasp from him whenever hit their mark, striking that bundle of nerves that made Katsuki appreciate his secondary quirk more than ever.
He lifted his knees with the instinctive urge to wrap them around Kirishima’s middle, but the redhead nudged them back down. Katsuki’s eyes opened by a fraction, coated with tears, so he couldn’t exactly see much other than the bright red hair and the peach shade of Kirishima’s face.
His legs were readjusted and pressed flat against the bed. Still half-asleep, Katsuki lay pliant, his brows sinking in drowsy confusion.
It didn’t help that he was also still sore as hell, but like fuck he was gonna openly admit that it was because of the consecutive dickings he’d received, from Kirishima and Deku and then Kirishima again.
…Followed by Kirishima now.
Now was markedly different, though, from their frustrated half-sex half-fight the previous night. It was also very unlike their usual routine, because Kirishima’s hand wrapped around his length and pumped it, steering Katsuki’s pleasure toward its apex before his own.
Palm-up and next to his head, Katsuki’s hand twitched in surprise before Kirishima veiled it with his, and their fingers intertwined as his noises grew more frenzied.
“Nnh—”
Katsuki moaned, tears beginning their rapid descent down his cheeks. His orgasm edged closer, and it felt foreign to have the tension ebb away slowly, rather than in one burst.
He came, all over Kirishima’s hand, and his oversensitive body shuddered as Kirishima remained completely silent, rocking into him at a steady pace. He was neither slowing down nor speeding up.
Katsuki preferred it fast and brutal, but apparently Kirishima was setting all the rules today. With one final shove he’d let out a soft noise – an unexpected one, akin to a whimper. His pointy teeth were bared as come dribbled inside Katsuki to further soak his walls.
Katsuki’s eyes remained hazy and unfocused, blinking as a single drop (definitely not his own tear) splashed onto his cheek, and when he opened them fully he saw Kirishima staring down at him. His expression was flat, and he bent down and kissed Katsuki square on the mouth.
Kirishima’s teeth worried at his bottom lip, tugging at it for a moment longer than necessary, before letting go.
“See you, Katsuki,” the redhead said, tugging on his bottoms and leaving the room. Katsuki wanted to ask him to stay and talk, have him explain what that had been all about.
“—Shima?”
He’d spoken too late. The door shut with a definitive click.
Then all hell broke loose at the gym.
--
“I – I promise, I wasn’t the one who approached him, I swear. I know he’s yours! S-sorry!”
“Don’t apologize to him!” Katsuki said furiously. The third year was actually shaking from Deku’s presence, forgetting that he was armed to the teeth with tentacles.
What was wrong with this guy?
Deku’s black whips loomed, challenging the other male in some bizarre form of powerplay. He probably thought he was establishing dominance or something, by showing off appendages of his own.
“Kacchan, this isn’t like you.”
“It’s none of your business who I fuck,” Katsuki growled. Nevermind that his eyes were brimming with tears as he said it, that his voice sounded cracked and frail and his pants were completely soaked.
“You don’t even know who he is!”
“Course I do! It’s…”
Deku cast him a disbelieving look.
“Uh,” Katsuki said, and realized belatedly that he shouldn’t have taken the bait. Whoever this was, his name was irrelevant, Deku was just being a holier-than-thou piece of shit, as usual.
“I’m Amajiki Tamaki,” the dark-haired boy muttered, curling into himself as if it physically pained him just to speak.
“Right, whatever. Still none of your business, Deku, so why don’t you just fuck off already?”
Deku shifted his attention to Amajiki, his jaw set.
“Amajiki, if it’s okay with you, I’d like a word with Kacchan alone.”
The third year nodded and ran off, leaving Katsuki alone, wet, and exasperated beyond belief. Deku’s black whips were receding as the blond approached him and fisted his shirt.
Leave me alone, you fucking stalker was what he’d been about to say, before he was beaten to the punch.
“You were about to make a big mistake, Kacchan!” Deku snapped, making no move to escape Katsuki’s grip.
He was looking straight at Katsuki, eyes shining with pity, again using that condescending tone that was driving him mad.
“F-fuck you!” In an attempt to yell, Katsuki had ended up gurgling out the words, causing his frustration to snowball rapidly into full-blown wrath.
Why did his lubrication have to act up now, making it impossible for anyone to take him seriously? More importantly, why couldn’t Deku just go to hell?
“You don’t get to tell me about mistakes! It was you, wasn’t it?! The-the recording—!”
It was getting harder to breathe, maybe because his mouth overflowed with saliva no matter how much he swallowed, and his nose felt similarly clogged. Or maybe it was due to the inexplicable pounding in his chest. Either way, Katsuki was releasing too much water while severely lacking air.
His grip slackened, but Deku didn’t seem to notice as he was too busy shaking his head.
“No, I would never!”
“Oh, so that’s one line you just won’t cross, huh, D-deku?” He knew he sounded fucking awful, constantly stumbling over his words. “Despite everything else? After all you’d done to me!”
“I swear, I deleted it right after that night. I was never gonna tell anyone, Kacchan. You know that.”
“You didn’t…?”
Seeing the absolute sincerity in Deku’s face, for some reason, was what broke Katsuki completely.
His exhales heightened into a mixture of gasps and sobs as he collapsed onto his knees. His fists were twisted at the bottom of Deku’s shirt, blackening it with his quirk as he pressed his face into Deku’s abdomen and let out a muffled scream.
Before he knew it, he was crying. Like a little bitch. Messily and noisily, spilling everything onto Deku’s shirt.
The brand seared on his lower back, the ache in his throat wherein a tentacle had been wriggling unpleasantly just earlier – the sensations were followed by images, backtracking to the memory of a balloon bursting with milk as it hit his arm, Kirishima’s haunted expression that should’ve been full of fire, Todoroki’s warm hand on his chest… All the way to Deku’s inhuman green eyes as he’d fucked him… The heaviness of his perpetually soaked skin…
Katsuki was locked in a state of overwhelming helplessness, in the company of a single person offering him help… Who was the same person he happened to despise most.
He hated how he always somehow ended up crying in front of Deku.
Deku patted his head, and kept mercifully quiet, letting Katsuki stifle his pathetic whimpers into his shirt.
After a while, his breathing started to even out. He inhaled, shuddering, as a wave of calm washed over him.
The moment had turned almost peaceful. Except…
He felt it – nudging against his chest.
Deku’s hard-on.
…
“Are you fucking kidding me.”
“It’s your scent, Kacchan! You’re also—”
“That doesn’t mean I’m fucking turned on!” He screamed, his throat ravaged and raw. He was beating his fists against Deku’s midriff, but the other male didn’t so much as flinch. “I can’t control my quirk anymore and I know you have something to do with it, Shitty Deku! You ruined me!”
Deku had gone silent again, Katsuki’s sobs trailing off into hiccups and the occasional sniffle. Scarred hands wrapped around his wrists, disentangling them from Deku’s shirt, before coaxing Katsuki into a standing position.
Deku didn’t let go of his arms.
“I’m… Really sorry about breaking your hip… You can break as many bones of mine in return if you want.”
Katsuki didn’t really know what to say to that. It sounded creepy as hell, and was even creepier knowing that he’d meant every word.
Deku chewed at his lip, turning pink as he flashed a hopeful smile.
“So… Now that you and Kirishima are… You know…”
The rest of the question, he didn’t say. He didn’t need to.
Maybe we can be together.
He might as well have slapped Katsuki open-handed. Katsuki stared at him, their hands still clasped together because the bastard still hadn’t fucking let go.
Deku was giving him that weird care-bear stare, trying to assume the perfect picture of devotion. But the damn nerd completely failed at it; if anything, it made him appear even more deranged.
That look, coupled with that totally insane line, caused something to snap inside Katsuki. He couldn’t help it.
He laughed.
And laughed, and laughed—
His laughter was completely hollow as he wrenched his hands from Deku’s grip to press a palm to his forehead, giggling madly.
“Holy shit, Deku…” His lips curled into a sneer. “You can’t possibly still think I’m ending up with you after this.”
“But I—I love you.”
There he goes again.
What was he expecting, that the words would magically flip a switch inside Katsuki and have him leaping into Deku’s arms?
Every love confession might as well have been poison being injected his veins. The words buried deep into his conscience, irremovable and ugly and ruinous. Deku’d tried to say it several times during their trysts, the same way he’d always tried to see Katsuki’s face, or kiss him on the lips, despite Katsuki giving every indication that he did not fucking want it.
I love you, he’d said right after nearly ripping Katsuki apart with black whip, the expression on his face cold and haunting.
Deku loved him, huh? If he, for some godforsaken reason, accepted that, he’d be excusing everything Deku did – the stalking, the complete disregard for boundaries, the attempts to constantly one-up him and manipulate him...
…But he’d also be accepting the Deku who had him writhing on the bed from a spectacular pounding, his unfairly huge dick carving up a new space in Katsuki’s ass, as if he was being hit right in the spinal cord with how deep he fucking felt it. The sheer bliss of reaching a completely fucked out state, wet and panting and mindless.
If he accepted Deku… Then he would get that wonderful sensation again, of One for All traversing inside and outside his body that made him think that this must be what being on drugs must be like, because it had climbed into his veins and strummed at his tendons. His brain screamed with relief from being fucked, in a way that couldn’t be replicated by anyone, not even—
…Every time afterward, he could barely stand. It was a feat just to make it back to his room, where he had to sit against the shower wall with his knees apart, ridding himself of evidence. Entranced, as he watched Deku’s essence float toward the drain.
He had the urge to walk with a skip in his step after, knowing he was taking One for All on an almost nightly basis and still breathing the next day. He’d wanted to go up to people and tell them, ‘well, how ‘bout you, asshole, what’ve you done?’
Maybe… Maybe, it would be worth it. The top-grade dicking was worth taking all the other shitty parts of Deku that came with it. He could handle Deku, even at his most infuriating and controlling. And it’s not like Kirishima was talking to him anyway… Todoroki had been a one-off… So maybe he should just bite the bullet…
Deku’s grating voice, commencing another mumbling session, snapped him out of his reverie.
“We were having a moment! S-see? It’s not just sex I’m good at, Kacchan. I comforted you. You can tell me anything, you know that! I mean, yes I may have gotten a little turned on, but it’s only because it’s been a while and, well, you had your face pressed directly to my—”
Katsuki closed his eyes, tears sliding from lash to cheek, and kissed him.
From the moment his lips touched Deku’s, he wanted to die.
Deku made a surprised, pleased “Mrph?” noise that left him nauseated to his core. He tried in vain to swallow down his revulsion, but when Deku’s tongue slithered against his own, he nearly choked.
He hated everything.
Hated Deku’s roaming hands, how he’d snapped his head up to meet Katsuki’s immediately. His hands were clutching Deku’s shoulders, maintaining a safe gap between their bodies. But Deku was already applying pressure back, trying to move forward and seize control.
“Kacchan,” Deku moaned, before plunging his tongue into Katsuki’s mouth again, and his hands stiffened around Katsuki’s waist almost painfully, drawing him in and caging him.
He could taste Deku, feel the puffs of his gross breaths. He wrinkled his nose, disgusted—it felt so utterly wrong.
Katsuki’s eyes shot open and he shoved the other male backward, then bent over and started dry heaving.
“I can’t—” he rasped. “I can’t fucking do this. Gross. Ugh.”
His stomach rolled, threatening to dispel its contents as he continued to spit and gag.
“Kacchan, now that’s just mean…”
Katsuki couldn’t stop retching. It would take days, for sure, to get the contaminated feeling out of his throat.
“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, scrubbing his mouth. “Nasty. Shit…”
He’d just kissed Deku, sick SICK SICK!
“It wasn’t that bad!”
“It was worse, fuck. I’m gonna hurl…” He tried to walk off, but Deku’s hand was on his wrist. “Let go, asshole!”
“Kacchan—”
“Aw, isn’t this sweet?”
Monoma had stepped into the clearing, his phone partially covering the mad grin that crossed his face.
“One for the yearbook, yeah? Caption: UA’s newest urban legend, the self-lubricating prom queen, with his final pick.”
He angled the phone at Katsuki first, then panned it toward Deku. Katsuki started toward him, ready to grab and crush the damn thing under his shoe, but Deku pulled him back.
“Kacchan, don’t!”
“Gotta admit, Bakugo, I’m surprised by your choice. Thought you’d go for Endeavor Junior… Or is this a time-share kind of deal where the other two get to double-team you on weekends?”
Katsuki responded with a malevolent smile. “Think you’ve won, fucker? Mineta’s already been axed and you’re next. You know that, right?”
“My, my, so not only are you a cheater, but a tattle-tale too!” Monoma punctuated his words with an uproarious laugh. “Then again, aren’t you the same, Midoriya? Guess you two really deserve each other. Can’t keep your pants or mouths shut.”
“Quit it, Kacchan,” Deku muttered. Katsuki snarled back as he continued trying to pry off Deku’s fingers, but to no avail. “Monoma, just leave. What you did was awful, and if you expect UA to take this lightly…”
“What I did?” Monoma said, with a faux gasp. “But Midoriya, I was just taking a page out of your little book! Literally! Twelve pages dedicated to his precious ‘Kacchan’ and what that legendary, perma-prepped ass is capable of. Surely you recognized your own phrasing?”
Katsuki turned to Deku expecting a look of confusion, but when he saw nothing but wide eyes, he knew, and was hit with another hot stab of betrayal. He was already picturing the fucking nerd scribbling all those notes in that charred up notebook of his…
“You WROTE IT DOWN?!”
“Oh, it wasn’t all him. Your other boyfriend, Kirishima? Yeah, he told Tetsu you were going at it like rabbits. How do you think I first found out what a cockslut you are, Bakugo?”
In a split second, Katsuki’s pained expression became a mask of pure anger. Monoma continued to survey him with great amusement, as he struggled against Deku’s grip
“I’m gonna – fucking – kill—”
“Come on, it wasn’t all bad. I put some flattering stuff in there too about how you glisten like morning dew after you get fucked six ways from Sunday. What did you think of your write-up, Midoriya?”
“N…None of that’s true.” Deku wheezed, straining from the effort of holding back Katsuki.
“Really? So you’re not ‘most likely to kill someone accidentally with your’—”
“No! Not really,” Deku mumbled.
“Deku, you fucking bastard, let go of me—”
“Oh, just ignore me and go ahead with your lover’s quarrel.” Monoma continued to record them, his eyes sparkling with glee from over the top of his phone. “I bet it’ll lead to some thrilling make-up sex. Should I go find some other guys and invite them over? Surely three dicks is small change to you at this point, right?”
Katsuki snapped his head toward Deku and glared.
“You love me, right?”
Deku blinked, his mouth forming a surprised ‘o’.
“Yes, but what does that—”
“If you really love me then let go of me!”
“Kacchan, I can’t! You’ll get in trouble!”
Oblivious to their argument, Monoma kept going.
“Bet you’ve fantasized about being fucked by 1-B as well, you dick-obsessed freak! Unfortunately for you, I don’t do ruined goods. You’re probably so loose I wouldn’t even be able to feel it.”
Spurred on by Katsuki’s lack of retaliation, his tone had taken on a dark edge.
“But who knows, maybe all you need is a little punitive rape to teach you the meaning of monogamy? I’m sure plenty who’ve read the guide book are dying to stick their cocks in you.”
“Monoma,” snarled Deku, making Katsuki wince because it was his wrist that Deku was subconsciously applying pressure on.
“Bet you’d love it anyway, since your body was literally built for taking cock. You and that bitch mom of yours belong in a brothel. You’d make a fantastic two-for-one offer, buy the whore mom, fuck her whore son for free!”
“Deku. Let go,” Katsuki said one final time, his teeth pressing together so hard they hurt.
Deku’s furious gaze slid from Monoma to Katsuki, before softening. He loosened his grip. Katsuki sparked his hands.
Monoma’s laughter quickly changed into a terrified shriek.
--
“Bakugo,” Aizawa drawled. He looked more worn out than usual, which was saying something considering the usual air of exhaustion he gave off. “I realize that saying this is futile, considering that it’s you I’m talking to, but why couldn’t you control yourself… Just once?”
Katsuki scowled. He bit back a snide retort, about how that fucker Monoma had it coming. Compared to the shit he’d put him through? It had been a slap on the wrist.
But he couldn’t say that, not in front of Vlad King, who, for some reason, was in the room with them, and eyeing him with such intense dislike that it made Katsuki shift uncomfortably in his seat. Vlad King was always stern, but this was a whole new level of vindictiveness for seemingly petty reasons.
Vlad King let out a snort at Aizawa’s words. Katsuki was left wondering why exactly he felt the need to join them. Usually, disciplinary action was doled out by the homeroom teacher alone.
“Eraser, you know fully well that his inability to control himself is the main problem.”
Aizawa raised a hand to get him to quiet down. There was a strange tension between the two that hadn’t existed before, and Katsuki had sensed it immediately. They usually got along, sharing a friendly rivalry. But the two teachers were hardly looking at each other.
“I can handle this, Vlad. Don’t forget that he is my student.”
“Yes, and he viciously attacked mine.”
“He deserved it,” Katsuki spat. But apart from the withering look Vlad shot him, his outburst went completely ignored. They were still conversing like he wasn’t even in the room.
“You have blinders on when it comes to your own,” Vlad King went on. “Especially this one. After all the trouble he’s caused for the school, you’re still letting him do whatever he wants. Letting him into the teachers’ dorms, for example.”
Aizawa flinched at that. Katsuki frowned – an example of him causing trouble, and that was the best Vlad King could come up with? It had been such a minor event that he’d forgotten about it until now.
But Aizawa looked pale. Well, paler, as he lowered his head, burying the lower half of his face in the strips of his scarf.
“I’m not the only one who’s noticed this, which is why the other teachers all advised that I be here. Plus, in light of your upcoming inquiry, it was highly discouraged for you to be alone with him.”
“Wait, you’re facing an inquiry?” Katsuki asked, his eyes wide. Aizawa shifted in his seat. “For… For letting me sleep in the teachers’ dorms? They don’t actually think that… That something happened, did they? That’s disgusting!”
The look Aizawa shot him told him that’s exactly what they thought, and given the accusations that had been yelled at him in public, he shouldn’t have been surprised.
People were sick, absolutely sick, for seeing him coming out of the teachers’ dorms and immediately assuming… Ugh. He was hit with a pang of guilt, which he quickly tried to replace with resentment. Stupid, stupid – Aizawa should’ve just lent him the sleeping bag!
“I was attending to what was obviously a cry for help from my student,” Aizawa said smoothly. “Perhaps if you’d done the same with yours, he wouldn’t have felt the need to antagonize my entire class.”
“Monoma will indeed be given his due punishment,” Vlad conceded. “But we’re not here to discuss his, we’re going to discuss the situation Bakugo’s gotten himself into.”
“I’m getting to that, Vlad.” Aizawa said, with an impatient look at the other man. His expression hardened as Katsuki’s gaze met his once more.
“Bakugo… When exactly did you start experiencing anxiety symptoms and how long were you planning to wait before telling someone?”
Katsuki blanched.
“…Anxiety?!”
Even Vlad King looked thrown by that, just as surprised by the diagnosis as Katsuki was.
“I’m not— I don’t get anxious or whatever, that’s crazy.”
“You’ve been sweating excessively, even during regular classes.”
Katsuki made a face. He couldn’t deny that, sure, as his own damn body was a giveaway, but still—
“Everyone has been pretending to ignore the scent, but it’s become very evident especially in the past few weeks. I’ve also noticed you shaking, and on several occasions you’ve looked to be having trouble breathing. Any nausea? Chest pain? You’ve displayed a lot of classical symptoms, which include, yes, exacerbated and uncontrolled secretions for people with emitter quirks.”
The realization struck him like an anvil.
He’d had an inkling, but could never put on his finger on why he’d started leaking during inopportune times, namely events that were completely unrelated to sex.
It had started whenever he saw Kirishima and Deku talking. He had never been comfortable with it, because the prospect of Deku divulging anything to Kirishima drove him crazy. And then, he’d started to feel it more and more around Deku, but figured that Deku was triggering some twisted, Pavlovian response from his body.
(Seeing how often they’d fucked, maybe his body had naturally reprogrammed itself to prepare for Deku, which was a horrifying thought.)
But no… Deku was triggering it… By stressing him the fuck out.
Katsuki’s silence might as well have been an admission.
“You’re not focusing on the most important part, Eraser,” Vlad King cut in, crossing sausage-like arms over his bulky chest.
“And what could be more important than Bakugo’s mental health?”
“Well… That’s one theory.” With a dismissive wave of his hand, Vlad King pushed himself off the wall and approached. Katsuki glared up at him.
“No matter what the reason is, it’s clear his quirk needs to be controlled before more damage can be done.”
“What sort of ‘damage’ might you be referring to?”
“Bakugo never disclosed these aspects of his quirk in his application form. Not only were we all caught surprise by it, but we’ve all been exposed to it, with little knowledge as to what could happen. We have no idea about the full extent of its effects on other people.”
“Be careful what you are insinuating, Vlad.”
“Oh, it’s more than an insinuation at this point. He is distracting to the other students and the staff. We’ve all smelled it, Aizawa.”
“I’m not doing it on purpose!” Katsuki burst out, but again, Aizawa and Vlad King seemed to be having their own little silent war, exchanging scathing looks that he wasn’t privy to.
Why was Vlad King so bent out of shape over his scent—
“Three boys,” Vlad King rumbled, and once again Katsuki was bewildered by the topic change. “All with stellar records, at the top of their class, and then suddenly this one comes along—”
“I’ve already arranged interviews with them, just as I had been asked to do. Until then, I think it’s foolish to assume that they weren’t completely liable for their own actions.”
Actions? What did Todoroki, Deku and Kirishima have to do with what he did to Monoma?
“Oh, but we don’t know that, do we? His quirk could have had mind-altering effects—”
The truth began to seep in that this wasn’t about Monoma at all. That the reason Aizawa had scheduled private interviews with him and the other three…
…Was because UA thought he was seducing people with his quirk?!
“You’re jumping to conclusions,” Aizawa said, his eyes narrowing.
“Am I?” Vlad King showed off the full length of his fangs with an unpleasant smile. “What am I supposed to assume, after hearing about what befell three of your most respectable students, especially when they have never acted this way before? If they’ve truly… Lost focus… Then we have to look at the common denominator.”
“You think I tricked them or something?!” Katsuki sputtered. ”That has nothing to do with—"
“It could be hypersexual behavior stemming from trauma,” Vlad King continued. “Or a combination of other factors, including stress, like you said. But I think what we can all agree on is that Bakugo here should learn to stop at just a kiss.”
His mouth hung open in outrage. Vlad King was blaming him. Him! For spur-of-the-moment decisions that weren’t even a big deal. It was insane how everyone was insisting he had orchestrated some master plan to fuck three of the strongest guys in class!
“He is not my student, but if he were, I would have Bakugo write apology letters to each of those boys.”
“Hah?!”
“And then I would have a full evaluation of his quirk done, chemical analysis included. Mind-manipulating substances, even when excreted unintentionally, are taken very seriously at UA.”
“I didn’t ‘manipulate’ them,” Katsuki insisted with such ferocity that his nails dug into his palms. It sounded awfully like Vlad King was assuming that no one would want to sleep with him otherwise.
“We will see what the boys say, based on how they’ll respond during their interviews.”
Katsuki looked down, horrified. They were going to be grilled. About him. So many potential questions they could be asked, relating to about their experiences fucking him... His stomach was churning at the thought.
“With the approval of Principal Nezu, we’ve decided…” Vlad King said, and Aizawa averted his gaze as Vlad King held out a slip of paper toward Katsuki. “…That at this time, you are to be put on anti-muscarinic medication to minimize any and all bodily secretions. It is for your good and for the good of others as well.”
Katsuki didn’t take the prescription.
“But—my quirk relies on sweat, if I can’t sweat then I can’t do any hero training, or did you forget that?”
“We didn’t,” Vlad King said impatiently.
Aizawa was clearly just as frustrated as he was, but did nothing even when Katsuki glanced at him, a silent plea for help. He’d probably already tried to convince them otherwise and failed, having been the lone voice opposing this measure.
“You are to take one pill every six hours, except for when you have an oncoming hero class. But we will be doing drug level testing at random to make sure you haven’t been skipping doses unnecessarily.”
So he’d be essentially quirkless.
“This is stupid,” Katsuki said desperately. “ When Deku was fucking up his arms you didn’t make him take any of this shit!”
“I’m sorry, Bakugo,” Aizawa said in a resigned voice. “I argued similar points, but in the end, people like Midoriya mostly risked harming only themselves. There is a major concern that your quirk might be unintentionally having an adverse effect on other people.”
“And how exactly might I be harming anyone? Yeah, the three fucks who are openly bragging about having fucked me seem really torn up about it.”
“Not all harm is physical,” Aizawa replied. “And think of this as more of a short-term treatment for the symptoms you’ve been experiencing. If anything, at least you’ll be less affected by your quirk during regular classes.”
Katsuki reached for the paper, shoulders slumped in defeat.
“How am I supposed to defend myself from all the shit everyone’s been saying about me?” He said in a pathetically small voice.
“Just ignore it,” Vlad said with a snort. “It’ll pass. And for now, I suggest leaving those poor boys alone. They shouldn’t be distracted from becoming heroes.”
Aizawa paused momentarily, pinning Vlad King with the deadliest of stares.
“Bakugo,” he then murmured, and Katsuki met his gaze, with a look of pure misery on his face that he didn’t bother to hide. “It may seem like we’re trying to punish you for your body, I know. But we’ll get this sorted out as fast as we can. For now, try to refrain from punishing yourself, too.”
--
His room looked the same as always, but something felt distinctly off.
Katsuki inspected it. Everything seemed in order, nothing out of place, but the nagging feeling that his private space had been tampered with would not go away.
He found it when he threw open the curtains.
Shielding his face with his hand, he was hit by the startling hue of the sun setting outside. But the red glow only served to highlight what was on the sliding door: it was scrawling with inky black messages, barely a spot left unblemished.
They were all in the same vein as the insults that were continuously yelled at him around campus.
SLUT
WHORE
HOMEWRECKER
LOOSE
CHEATER
COCKSUCKER
They went on and on, clearly the work of not just one individual but a whole group of them, as the handwriting varied. Some wrote entire sentences, while one dedicated a whole corner of the glass to a weird rant about how he didn’t deserve someone as pure as Todoroki.
Todoroki, pure?
At lease he’d found a small bit of humor in this predicament, but it was quickly overtaken by disgust as his eyes lowered. The heaviness in his chest doubled instantly.
His balcony was full of garbage.
They’d left the spray paint cans and markers, but aside from that…
Littered all over the floor outside were condoms, what looked to be a bunch of porn mags with badly photoshopped images of him taped to their covers, sanitary napkins, tampons (thankfully unused)…
God, they had wasted so much time and resources on this when they could’ve been doing something more productive. And now he was gonna have to clean this shit up. It added another layer of exhaustion to what already had him reeling from the day’s events.
He threw the medication on his desk and settled on his bed with his now charged phone in hand. For the first time that day, he switched it on.
…And was bombarded with notifications, so many that his alert sound became one continuous tune. He was sorely tempted the explode the whole thing.
There were dick pics. Lots of them, attached to invitations to suck on them or stick them up his ass.
How the fuck had they gotten his number?
But that wasn’t all: there were dozens of messages, too, ranging from nonsensical to downright cruel:
[U cheating hoar cudnt be hapy w/ 1 guy had to get at lesat 2 mor fuk u bitch]
[Wish you’d stop being such an attention-seeker, it’s like you can’t go a month without being the main topic of convo dude, would it kill you to lie low for a little while?]
[Pls pick Todoroki! You are soo cute together, the redhaired guy is p. cool too but kind of a meathead fr what I hear. But srsly Midoriya? That guys crazy and weird lookin he must be a freak in bed tho…]
[Fucking die already I cant stant cheaters. Cheaters on principal should be disqualified from being heroes, they are dishonest sry not sry]
And the kicker:
[Can’t believe All Might gave up his powers for your ungrateful ass only for you to slut around… show the man some respect instead of being such a fucking cumslut holy shit]
Admittedly, that one almost hurt. Katsuki found himself squeezing his phone as he’d read it, because boy, was that an intentional low blow. These cowards were desperate to hurt him, using every conceivable angle they could think of.
Just as he was scrolling through his contacts list, going down to ‘M’, another message came in:
[Aizawa is mine!!!! Keep your disgusting sweaty hands off of him!]
Reading that one had him producing a noise of disgust as he pressed the name he was looking for, then held his phone up to his ear.
“Katsuki, well this is a surprise!” She said, because the damn hag was always on his case about never calling them. His retort was caught in his throat, but he cast a baleful look at the medication on his desk, before squeezing his eyes shut and throwing a forearm over his face.
“Mom,” he said. The single world came out a sob. Right off the bat, he’d failed to maintain his composure. “…I fucked up. Bad.”
“Tell me what happened,” she said, tone suddenly neutral.
“The, uh.” He couldn’t seem to say it out loud. “Thing. That I’m supposed. To keep secret.”
“What about it?”
“It’s out.”
Those were the only words his lips would willingly form, unable to say more. Somehow announcing that the entire school knew, and that he was put on medication, were things he couldn’t verbalize, for that would be tantamount to admitting just how royally fucked he was.
There was silence over the other line, before his mom spoke again.
“Do you regret it?”
“I don’t know,” he said after a while.
Because, really, he hadn’t. At least, not until everyone had found out and made such a big deal of it. And until now, he hadn’t fucking understood why.
It didn’t make sense, the stigma attached to the whole thing: that he was somehow the perpetrator and yet the sole recipient of all the derision. That just because he’d been the one on the receiving end – god, yes, he had taken their cocks – somehow he was perceived as the weak one while everyone else got all the praise.
And for what? Was that all he had been, a hole for them to stick their dicks in? Because the sex had been pretty fuckin’ reciprocal as far as he was concerned, so why was everyone treating it as if it wasn’t?
Katsuki wished people weren’t so goddamn weird about it. He’d long since come to terms with his capability to self-lubricate – it was a handy ability that made sex amazing.
But in the eyes of the public? Apparently it reduced him to his capacity to take dick and nothing more.
It dawned on Katsuki then, that that was exactly what she’d warned him about.
“…Fine, let’s be more specific. Do you regret who you did it with?” His mom asked.
Katsuki breathed.
Kirishima and his toothy smile, Deku and his lightning, Todoroki and his damn hands.
…He didn’t. He would’ve kept doing it if he could (although maybe he wouldn’t… Bounce between partners as much.)
When it came down to it, he was mad about the hollered insults, the medication, the shit all over his balcony.
But he hadn’t regretted having sex.
“No,” he said.
To his surprise, his mom laughed.
“Then what exactly is the issue here?”
--
“Partner up.”
Katsuki never thought he’d dread hearing those words.
He sat still as the rest of the class broke into chatter, most of them already moving to sit beside their companion of choice. Normally, his go-to partner was Kirishima. But the redhead hadn’t bothered to look at him, leaning forward to tap Kaminari on the shoulder instead.
He briefly considered Todoroki, but Iida beat him to it. And like hell he was going to settle for Deku – but as it turns out, he didn’t have to worry about that either since Shouji had quickly occupied Mineta’s empty seat and roped him into conversation.
“Sorry, Bakugo,” Aoyama winked when he accidentally caught his eye. “I’m taken.”
“You fucking wish, you navel-gazing piece of shit!”
Boys and girls alike were avoiding eye contact with Katsuki, as the frustration dug deeper into his chest. No one wanted to partner with him, really? Then fuck them. He was going to fucking nail that essay and he’d do it alone. Their loss.
“Bakugo!”
Uraraka was waving him over from the other side of the classroom, then pointing to herself. Scowling, Katsuki grabbed his notebook and shuffled over to her desk.
“No need to look down on me,” he grumbled, flopping onto what was originally Iida’s chair.
“Look down on you?” she blinked, a bit too innocently. “I’m just trying to raise my Hero History grade. Everyone knows you’re acing this class.”
“Whatever.”
With Mineta out of the picture, the class was at an odd number. To compensate, Tsuyu, Yaoyorozu and Jirou had formed a trio – Yaoyorozu had taken over his empty seat, her hands nestled on her lap like the prim rich kid she was. All three were smiling directly at him and Uraraka. Unsure of how to respond, he nodded curtly back.
He ended up writing the entire essay while Uraraka asked insipid questions about the topic, ones she would’ve known the answer to if she’d read the book. But Katsuki didn’t mind her company. She was one of the few in class who hadn’t treated him any differently since the incident, owing to the fact that they rarely interacted in general apart from whenever she demanded that he lay off Deku.
Katsuki felt and heard a series of annoying vibrations from his pocket. He had a good guess as to what they were.
“Is that your phone?” Uraraka asked.
“Yeah, just ignore it.”
They sat in silence for a while, Bakugo continuing to write.
“You know, I resented you for quite a bit,” she said softly.
He snorted. “Probably not a good idea to partner up with someone you hate, then.”
“No, it’s not hate,” she clarified. “I guess I’ve just been confused by all that happened. And maybe a little jealous.”
He paused, his pen hovering over the sheet. Ah. So this was about Deku. He should’ve known that the nerd’s one-woman fanclub would have an ulterior motive for partnering with him.
“I should hate you. Because D-deku likes you instead of me, but for some reason I’m just annoyed on his behalf that you weren’t happy with just him.”
She had a look of intensity on her face, though the effect was partially destroyed by her puffed up cheeks. Still, he shouldn’t have been surprised by Round Face telling her honest feelings to his face. She’d always had guts. He resented them as much as he admired them.
“He’s all yours,” Bakugo said, viciously. “If you want his greasy hands all over you, then by all means, take him. You’d be doing me a big favor.”
“But he doesn’t want me, does he? He’s always wanted you. And from what I hear, you kept coming back for more. So some part of you does acknowledge that Deku’s worth being with… Right?”
Her, seeking affirmation from him that Deku was the knight in shining armor that she wanted him to be? Damn, she was more fucked up than he thought.
“No,” he said bluntly. “I hate that little fucker.”
“But y-you and Deku… Made love—”
“’Made love’?” He repeated, with dark amusement. “He used his superstrength to forcibly open my mouth so he could stick his dick in it and face fuck me. Is that making love?”
“Uh,” Uraraka said, turning bright red.
“That freak broke my hip during sex. Is that considered making love, Uraraka? You saying you’re into that sort of thing?”
“Deku has always been different when it comes to you, though,” she said, desperate to reconcile the Deku he was describing with the saint-like one in her head.
She probably pictured him giving her teddy bears and shit, wanting to do it in a bed of roses. But with Katsuki’s unflattering description, that left her trying to convince herself that if Deku was violent, it was only because Katsuki had asked for it.
“If that’s the case then why’d you keep going back to him? If he’s such a ‘freak’?”
Maybe a freak is all I deserve.
“Are you going to help with this paper or not?” He snapped.
“Ah, well, you seem to have it covered…” His visible annoyance got her to back off, but there was another series of vibrations and now she seemed all too interested in something else.
“Who keeps texting you?” She asked. “More secret admirers?”
“Sure. ‘Admirers’.”
He plucked his phone and slid it toward her, the newest message lit brightly on its screen. She glanced at it for a moment and turned even redder before pushing his phone back across the desk.
He caught a glimpse of what it said:
[I bet the league of villains took turns raping you LOL that’s why you’re so addicted to dick now. Should’ve stayed their sex slave instead of trying to ride every dick in UA]
“Bakugo, that’s awful!”
“Eh,” he said, expression deadpan as he pocketed his phone.
“You should—you should tell the teachers!”
“Fuck that,” he immediately said. They’d probably just prescribe him more shit, and somehow turn it around and blame it on him for being such a fucking tease or something.
They (He) finished their essay quicker than anyone else, so while the extras were struggling to catch up, Uraraka twiddled her thumbs while he continued deleting messages as they came.
[Call me!!! My dick is too big for everyone else but knowing your quirk, you can probably handle it ;) ;) ;) your ass must taste sooo yummy!]
[How many people did you fuck for prom votes, and why wasn’t I one of them?]
“Bakugo, actually, I wanted to give you something,” Uraraka blurted. He lifted his eyes from his phone and saw her blushing furiously.
“I’m not passing anything to Deku for you.”
“Nothing like that! It’s for you! From me and the girls.”
Uraraka was reaching across the table, a belt in her hand. It was leather, a sleek black shade topped off with a gleaming silver buckle.
“We noticed you don’t have a belt anymore so the rest and I—well, Yaomomo made it herself. She ordered the buckle straight from France, some special alloy I can’t pronounce… But we wanted to give it to you.”
Katsuki had not been expecting anything like this. He stared it, then looked around at the same trio from earlier, who were now giggling and waving at him, which… What were they playing at? He had no idea what the fuck was going on.
“Yaomomo got the measurements for your waistline in the, uh, guide book…” Uraraka continued to ramble. Her hand was shaking the longer she held out the belt.
For fuck’s sake, Deku.
“Why?” Katsuki asked, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Believe it or not, Bakugo, but we know a thing or two about unwanted attention.”
He swiped it from her and weaved it through the loops of his pants. From touch alone, he could tell it was much more durable than the custom one his parents gave him. The fit was perfect, leaving Katsuki to realize how much he’d missed wearing a belt, despite his previous one failing at its one job of keeping his pants above his hips.
At least this one would keep Aizawa off his ass. (Okay, poor choice of words, but still.)
“…This doesn’t mean you can keep leeching A’s off of me.”
“Of course,” Uraraka said, failing to suppress her grin.
--
Joint Training was exactly what he’d needed to blow off steam. He had yet to forgive Aizawa for suspending multiple weeks’ worth of combat training to get them to ‘open up about their feelings’ or whatever (it hadn’t been worth it, like, at all), but back then he had an outlet (…Sex) for his frustrations. Now?
Sex was out of the question.
And he was itching for a good old fight.
He burst into the locker room and was greeted by mostly 1-B faces. Trying not to let his wariness show, Katsuki walked past, cold-shouldering the lot of them. Someone whistled.
“Here comes the star of the show,” sniggered one of the 1-B extras.
“Fuck off.”
With Monoma gone, there were several assholes gunning to take up the mantle in his stead. Katsuki ignored the lewd gestures and smirks as he strode toward his locker, head held high.
He could hear footsteps behind him, though – some of them were trailing him, throwing snide remarks.
“Don’t be that way, we think it’s cool what you can do.”
“Yeah, 1-B wishes we had a class bicycle of our own.”
“It makes sense now, the sluttiest bitch always wins prom queen, huh?”
“’Ey Bakugo, what do you say to a little wager? If 1-B wins, we get to fuck you.”
Katsuki silently gave them the finger over his shoulder, paying no heed to the snickering that followed.
“Aw, come on, don’t tell us you have standards now! You slept with Midoriya.”
Anger curled unpleasantly in his gut as he stopped in front of his locker.
It was vandalized with the same sort of shit written on his door. An unflattering caricature of him had been drawn in the very center, with the words “SLUTTY HERO: BAKUGO KATSUKI” in block letters scribbled above it. Apart from the usual one-word insults, someone had left a number, with a large “CALL ME!” encircled right next to it.
While he was processing the sight before him, a couple of 1-B extras had surrounded him on all sides.
“Back off if you don’t want to end up like Monoma,” he said furiously, before throwing open his locker.
An assortment of sex toys fell out, scattering all over the floor, and they burst into laughter.
Katsuki looked around, apprehensive of the escalating situation. On the row of lockers opposite his, Aoyama and Kouda were determinedly looking in the opposite direction, pretending nothing was happening.
But Deku was with them, his costume half-zipped as he made eye contact with Katsuki. He was witnessing everything (of course) and looked utterly livid. Katsuki made a show of slowly shaking his head.
He could handle this shit.
“Oh, is this a new part of your costume? Which one are you gonna wear today, Katsuki? Need help putting it in?” The shadow-guy mocked, holding up one of bright green dildos that had fallen out.
A brown-haired extra held up an egg-shaped toy. “This one looks good.”
“Nah, not big enough.” It was that fucking bug, the one he’d blown up in their previous match. He clicked his pincers in laughter as he picked up a spiky, red-shaped dildo and brandished it at Katsuki. “Maybe this? Is this what Kirishima’s cock looked like, Bakugo?”
“I SAID BACK OFF!” He set off a warning explosion. It wasn’t as large as he’d hoped, which admittedly perturbed him. That signified that he was sweating less, and that should not have been the case as he’d refrained from taking his pill earlier.
“Come on, guys! Vlad King’s calling us!” Weld-guy’s voice hollered from the doorway.
They left, grumbling, but not without one last throwaway comment (“Don’t expect us to go easy on you, we know you like it rough.”). The remaining 1-A students, Deku included, had gone ahead as well.
Katsuki barely had time left to change, but it brought him slight relief knowing he would be able to do it in peace. Kicking away one of the dildos, he walked over to the closest bench and placed his briefcase on it.
When was the last time he’d done this – put on his costume and gear up for a real fight?
His hands tingled with anticipation as he undid the latches. Those fuckers didn’t know what would hit them.
But when he opened his briefcase and pulled out his familiar black and orange garb, something wasn’t right. Rather than being perfectly ironed, it was rumpled. An acrid smell hit his nose. Face scrunched up, Katsuki pulled back, holding his tanktop at arms’ length. The middle was soggy, covered in something—
…Something sticky and white…
With a scream of frustration, Katsuki dropped it on the floor and punched a locker, disregarding the pain that shot through his knuckles from the impact.
Those DISGUSTING FUCKS—
That wasn’t all. There was a note, attached to an orange stringy and lacey piece of cloth, at the bottom of his briefcase.
‘Your new hero costume’
Lingerie.
He burned it with trembling hands, along with the note. After staring mournfully at his ruined costume, he did the same. He could always have a new one made, but this act was violating on a magnitude he was struggling to digest. There was crossing the fucking line and there was going so far beyond it that the line was no longer visible.
Whether 1-B was behind this or not, heads were going to roll today.
Gym uniform it is, then.
Katsuki ignored the questioning glances (everyone else was in their hero costumes) as he stepped into Gamma Gym. Aizawa and Vlad King had them gather by the bleachers but he could barely focus on what they were saying, vengeful thoughts weighing heavy on his mind.
It was difficult to muster any sort of enthusiasm now, right after finding his hero outfit covered in come. Katsuki attempted to psyche himself up, experimentally setting off a few small explosions with his palms. As he suspected, they were… Weaker, and it was one more drawback he was going to have to deal with.
Didn’t matter, he’d find a way around it. He always did.
Scattered around the gym were towers made of rock, teetering unevenly like they would topple over from a single nudge. They were to simulate battling ‘on eggshells’, as Aizawa had called it, and would be judged not simply by how many members of the other team they took out, but could also lose instantly if they knocked over any of the towers.
They drew lots to decide the team-ups:
Him, Shinsou, Kouda
Vs
Kamakiri, Shishida, Tsuburaba
Aka The bug, the beast and the guy who made air shapes.
Contemplating his groupmates, Katsuki couldn’t have assembled a more useless team if he’d tried. But having beaten both Kamakiri and Tsubaraba before, it’s not like he would need Shinsou and Kouda’s help.
“What’s the plan?” Shinsou asked, as he was adjusting his stupid-looking voice imitator.
“Don’t get caught in his air shields. Beat the shit out of the rest.”
“That’s not much of a plan. We don’t have much in terms of raw strength. Kouda and I both—”
“It doesn’t matter!” Katsuki said, face splitting into a wide grin. He was already imagining beating those 1-B bastards so badly that they’d regret ever having looked at him funny. “I’ll kick their asses with or without your help!”
“START!”
Tsuburaba covered the towers with shields of air, which was quite possibly the dumbest thing he could’ve done, for it only meant one thing: that Katsuki could go absolutely nuclear without worrying about collateral damage.
He rocketed toward their group, sailing over Tsuburaba and easily dodging one of his gusts. Based on the noises of frustration behind him, Shinsou and Kouda had immediately gotten caught. Amateurs.
“You think you can stop m—” Katsuki tried to say, but did not get to finish his sentence. An invisible force latched onto his foot and he was catapulted straight to the floor.
He felt a burst of pain in his chest and jaw. Distantly, he could hear laughter from the bleachers as he woozily got up.
What the fuck – how did that even happen–
Katsuki shook off the light-headedness and finished his charge on foot, Kamakiri meeting him head-on. He easily blinded him with a Stun Grenade and moved behind him to deliver a final blow.
Pain shot unexpectedly through his back. Something had cut him sideways, but – he looked around, and Kamakiri was dizzily stumbling toward him. He couldn’t possibly have struck Katsuki.
Tsuburaba was reinforcing the shields around a helpless Shinsou and Kouda, and Shishida was running toward him, but what the hell had sliced him?
Having regained his sight, Kamakiri went for Katsuki again, thrusting a blade toward his face. Katsuki dodged and retaliated with an explosion that got him in the stomach.
He could sense Shishida drawing nearer, and was prepared to take to the skies again. But for the second time, his foot was caught by a mysterious entity. His ankle rolled; somehow, it seemed like the surface of the floor had shifted.
Katsuki stumbled backward, right into the large, furry body of Shishida.
“Desperate for it, isn’t he?” Katsuki felt Shishida’s rumbling laugh against his back as thick arms wound around him, lifting him off the ground in a bearhug. Kamakiri snickered in response.
“Guys! I need help!” It sounded like Tsuburaba’s voice, but the two merely shook their heads instead of replying.
“That Shinsou’s a one-trick pony,” Shishida scoffed.
“Not like you, huh, Bakugo?” Kamakiri pressed the tip of his blade to a spot beneath Katsuki’s chin, forcing his head back. His greenish head was so close to Katsuki’s that as he turned his insect-like face, one of his pincers dragged a line across Katsuki’s cheek. “You’ve got all sorts of tricks that we’d very much like to see.”
“You got that right,” Katsuki said, and blew them both up. He flew straight up, and was going to start raining explosions down from above, but his boot was grabbed mid-air by nothing and he was anchored back down to the floor, landing hard on his hands and knees.
Belatedly, he realized how damp his clothes were, beads of sweat trailing down his face and arms. So he was also perspiring much more, which was supposed to be good, meaning the medication had finally lost its full effect… But his body was oddly warm, enveloped in a heat that was muggy and stifling. Like someone had wrapped five blankets around him.
Katsuki gasped, attempting to clamber to his feet. Only, he couldn’t lift his hands from the floor. They were… Stuck. And so were his knees, some weird sticky residue forming puddles under and around his trapped limbs, despite the glue guy not being part of the match.
What the fuck…
“Always gotta be on all fours, don’t you, Bakugo?” Rumbled Shishida, as his shoes appeared in Katsuki’s line of sight. Two tall figures were standing over him and try as he might, he couldn’t move an inch.
“’Cause he knows he’s about to lose, so he’s getting himself nice and ready for us.” A claw-like hand pressed in between his shoulder blades. Katsuki hated, hated, how strongly it reminded him of Kirishima’s hardened touch.
“That was the deal, right?” Kamakiri hissed. The clicking of his pincers grew louder. “We get to fuck you in the ass if we win?”
“You’re cheating,” Katsuki spat out. He was shaking, livid – it was so damn hot, but in an unnatural, quirk-induced way. “Fucking cowards.”
“Nah, you’re just a bitch who can’t fight your battles alone, which is why you whore yourself out to get others to fight them for you.” The seams of his gym top fell apart as Kamakiri sliced vertically down his back. “But none of your boys can save you now.”
“They get to watch, though,” Shishida pointed out.
“You guys ready to see a real show?” Kamakiri called to the crowd, and there were cheers and hollers from 1-B.
“Yeah, let’s teach 1-A a lesson. Show ‘em what happens to sluts like Bakugo who don’t know their place.”
His back was fully exposed, flaps of cloth dangling on either side of his torso. Kamakiri’s disgusting fingers were on his waist— Katsuki shuddered, dreading what the bug was about to find—
“No!”
“Oh, interesting.”
…He’d found it.
“Guys! You’ll never believe this – he’s got a tramp stamp!”
Raucous laughter followed his proclamation. Katsuki couldn’t move, was left stuck there, burning, in every sense of the word. His threats went completely ignored as Kamakiri meticulously sliced up his clothes.
“Let’s see if we can get him to lube himself,” Kamakiri said, and Katsuki could feel fingers sliding beneath his waistband, rubbing at the cleft of his ass. The heat of his body turned up tenfold, rendering his limbs shaky and on the verge of collapse.
Fur-covered fingers gripped his hair and forced Katsuki‘s head back, making him look up at Shishida and his bared teeth.
“Oh, he’s definitely cuter when helpless,” he said, mouth twisted into a cruel smile.
Don’t, Katsuki urged his body. Don’t, he wanted to say—but it was too much, too hot, and as his mouth felt moist and his vision blurred with tears, he gasped. His heart was slamming against his chest. He couldn’t do anything but tremble as slick oozed out of him, filling the air with sweetness.
“I can smell it,” Shishida said in wonder. “It’s so strong.”
“There she blows!” Kamakiri crowed, slicing down the right leg of his pants, exposing a section of Katsuki’s skin from ass to thigh. His clothing was in tatters, and trapped in place as he was, all that was left for him to do was squirm.
“I wonder how naked we can get you before Aizawa calls off the match?”
His answer came in the form of a powerful gust of air – far stronger than any of Tsuburaba’s. Kamakiri and Shishida were blown backwards, knocked off their feet. Katsuki crouched in place, stuck in his embarrassing position. He blinked the tears away and turned his head toward the bleachers.
Deku had his arm raised and his glove aimed toward them.
“Midoriya, what gave you the right to interfere with the match?”
Aizawa stood, capture tape in hand, looking very much like he’d been about to call it off himself before Deku had beaten him to it. Kirishima was standing, too, but was being restrained by Todoroki.
Deku lowered his arm, eyes flashing dangerously as he faced Aizawa.
“With all due respect sir, 1-B has been interfering since before it began. They targeted Kacchan in the locker room and harassed him. Then when the match started, they continued to sabotage Kacchan and his team. Juzo has been softening the floor slightly. Kuroiro slipped into his boot, tripping him. Rin used Scale to distract him at the beginning of the match. Bondo glued Kacchan to the floor. Fukidashi created a speech bubble labeled ‘Peto-peto’ to cause Kacchan to sweat uncontrollably. It was an unfair match from the start.”
The tendrils of Aizawa’s hair floated threateningly as he faced the crowd,
“Is anyone from 1-B willing to refute these accusations?”
“It’s true,” Tetsu said. He looked resigned, Kendou equally dismayed beside him. “As much as it pains me to have to say this about my own classmates, they went too far. I saw it all happen and I apologize for not stopping it myself.”
Protests erupted from the accused parties.
“What’re you apologizing for, Tetsu?! It was all just a bit of fun.”
“A joke, sir, honest. We were playing around, Bakugo knew it was all trashtalk, he was playing along.”
“He’s a guy, so it’s not like we were doing it seriously—”
Aizawa held up his hand, his expression turned blazing.
“There is nothing funny about the deliberate and targeted harassment of a student. Vlad King, the behavior of your class has been appalling.”
Vlad King was too shocked to react (serves him right), but the proceedings merely worsened the tightening in Katsuki’s chest. Dammit, he had wanted to finish the match and prove that he could curbstomp them no matter how many assholes tried to interfere!
“Kamakiri, your team is disqualified. Team Bakugo wins. And whoever I find interfering in others’ matches again will receive the same punishment as Mineta and Monoma.”
He was supposed to win. An undisputable victory! Remind everyone here what he fucking stood for, that he was the best at UA and they would never bring him down no matter what nicknames or sordid fantasies they came up with!
But this?
Was a downright ugly feeling, winning solely by default. How insulting. He would’ve preferred to lose or taken the humiliation instead. Standing in place, he was unable to move, fists clenched, fighting to get his breathing under control—
“Fuck you, Deku! I told you to stay out of my business!”
--
Aizawa made him change out of his ripped clothes before forcing him to join the crowd. Lumbering to the bleachers, Katsuki sat at the very back, half-wishing he had gone straight back to the dorms. But people would just notice his absence again, probably spread even more rumors.
Not that he cared, he just… Didn’t want to add more fuel to the fire.
Katsuki threw a pill into his mouth and swallowed, pushing down the painful realization that he was willingly removing his own quirk every time he did it. It would take effect in half an hour, leaving his mouth uncomfortably dry, his eyes blurry from the lack of moisture, his palms itchy and rough. Powerless.
Aoyama, Hagakure and Yaoyorozu were up next, facing off against the mushroom girl, dude-with-spinning-limbs and the lizard freak who’d lost embarrassingly to him back in winter. Every so often, someone from 1-B would turn their heads and give him a scathing look.
He watched, hardly concentrating, choosing to recall having blazed through the previous fight with 1-B. How easily he’d snagged a perfect win then, despite being weak against the cold. Versus the embarrassing performance from now… Ugh.
He checked his phone, deleting an entire wave of messages that had accumulated since combat training began.
[Pls pls pls foursome I wanna see you gangbanged by all 3 just pls let me watch]
[What do you call the guy who follows the band around and takes it up the ass from all the members? The drummer hahahaha]
[Todoroki deserves way better than you!!!]
The pill took effect by the time the next match finished. 1-A won by the skin of their teeth, Yaoyorozu having tricked lizard freak into knocking over several towers at once. 1-B didn’t take this well at all; upon leaving the battleground, Spinning-limbs guy said something to Yaoyorozu which made her fall to her knees and start crying.
As Vlad King and Aizawa wrangled their respective students, only to end up bickering with each other, Katsuki rubbed at his eyes and took a swig from his water bottle, washing out the parchedness of his throat.
The next match had Kirishima teamed up with Satou and Uraraka, against Tetsu, ghost girl and the American exchange student.
“Kirishima, how ‘bout a shoutout to a special someone in the crowd?” Someone from 1-B shrieked.
For a fleeting moment, Kirishima’s gaze met his. Their match started.
Katsuki didn’t feel like watching anymore, so he left.
He tried going to Recovery Girl and getting the tattoo removed. As figured, she couldn’t actually do anything about it – quirk cancelation wasn’t her forte and it didn’t really count as an ‘injury’. It would fade away eventually, she told him, useless bat that she was.
Katsuki headed to the restroom after that, his skin prickling. Another irritating side effect of the pill. Leaning over a grimy sink, he let the water pour over his hands for almost a minute. Despite that, they still felt so fucking dry that it was disconcerting. In the mirror, he saw the reflection of three students behind him, milling by the doors of the stalls.
Were they guarding the toilets or something? Dumbfucks.
“Look who it is.”
He had predicted that exact line before it was spoken, but said nothing as he ripped tissue from the dispenser.
Just ignore them.
He balled up the tissue he’d wiped his hands with and tossed it over his shoulder, hearing an affirmative clunk as it landed in the trash can.
One of them had moved to the door and was holding it closed.
“Get out of the way,” Katsuki said.
The extra by the door pulled a familiar cover out of his pocket.
“If you sign this copy of Quirk Sex, I will,” he said with a leering drawl.
“Not interested,” Katsuki replied, the words coming out hoarse from the dryness of his throat. “Get out before I make you.”
“With what? You gonna drown us in your ass-lube?” Said the taller one, closing in behind him. The smallest of the three hadn’t moved from his original spot, but was cracking his knuckles in a manner he probably thought was threatening.
“Last chance,” Katsuki growled.
“Oooh, he thinks he’s so tough. Little spitfire thinks he’s stronger than us just ‘cause he took a buncha hero cock.”
Katsuki moved. He didn’t need his quirk for this.
With a single punch to the jaw, the guy blocking the door went down like a sack of bricks. The other two yelled in surprise. Katsuki made it to the door, fingertips secured on its handle when suddenly his legs gave way.
He made a confused noise as all energy in the lower half of his body was sapped from him, leaving him slumped against the door, desperately gripping the handle to try and haul himself upright.
“Enjoying my jelly legs quirk?” the smallest guy sniggered. Katsuki was cast in shadow as the three surrounded his huddled body.
One was rubbing his jaw from where Katsuki had socked it.
“Dumb bitch,” he said, attempting to kick him in the face. But quirk or no, Katsuki still had full use of his hands. He caught his foot, and was on the verge of twisting the fuck out of his ankle when all three made a grab for him.
In a flurry of action, their combined pressure forced his hands off and they dragged him away from the door. The largest had pinned his arms behind his back.
Several fingers were slipping under his shirt, another pair of hands tearing it open. A button made a pinging noise as it ricocheted off the porcelain. Katsuki thrashed, but one of the guys grabbed his face, bumping their foreheads together.
“Think you’re so above everyone, strutting around with your pants down like it’s an open invitation.”
Katsuki desperately wanted to spit out at him, but – he had no saliva in his mouth. So he glared instead, as they unbuckled the belt Yaoyorozu had made.
“Spread ‘em, babe,” One guy said, jerking his unresponsive legs apart. “Give us a free sample.”
He was flipped onto his belly, the view annoyingly similar to his position from the disastrous battle earlier. Someone licked at his nape and he growled furiously.
“That desperate to get expelled, you dumb fucks?”
“We’re not gonna rape you or anything,” the largest one said, laughing as he squeezed Katsuki’s ass none too gently. “We just want to corroborate the findings in the guide book. I thought you were supposed to taste sweet? Yet your skin’s dry as hell.”
They hooted and imitated moans, the smallest one sliding beneath his shirt to scrape at his back. One of the other two were wrenching his pants down to his knees. Someone was sticking his hand up his underwear, groping—
“Yeah, feels pretty dry to me.”
“Aw, so it’s all fake?”
“We can check if he’s loose. If he is then that proves he’s been ass-fucked like no tomorrow.”
Katsuki focused his mind on moving his legs, but could manage barely a twitch at most. It alarmed him, that even after these idiots were gone, he would be left here, immobile on the floor. Unless he dragged himself out with his hands, but that would create a more embarrassing situation. And if the fucking tattoo were exposed—
“Maybe ‘cause he’s not turned on?” Their movements stilled. “You’re too ugly, Kaito,” the smallest one said, cracking up.
“Hear that, Bakugo?” Big guy was hunkered over his body, his upside down face inches from Katsuki’s own. “You think I’m too ugly? You prefer guys with big-ass scars on their faces?”
“Just close your eyes and pretend,” added his companion.
The largest guy maneuvered his hands under Katsuki’s shirt and cupped his chest with an exaggerated groan. The action had his friends howling with laughter.
“Stop,” Katsuki breathed. He was fully aware that he was panicking, but there was a strange disconnect between his distressed mind and unresponsive body, devoid of sweat and of most sensation in his legs. “STOP!”
The door burst open and the floor sizzled with heat.
Inwardly, Katsuki’s heart soared. He almost let himself breathe a sigh of relief.
Standing in the doorway was Todoroki.
--
Sex with his quirk had been effortless and simple, a cock pushing into his hole was all it took to light up every nerve in his body. That was that.
Sex without his quirk? Was absolutely fucking miserable.
In fairness, he’d warned Todoroki in advance. But Katsuki himself hadn’t anticipated how difficult this would be. Todoroki had been all blasé about it, as usual, when Katsuki explained his… Malady. The weirdo just pulled out a tube of lube that he apparently brought around with him all the time (which raised a lot of questions Katsuki was too lazy to ask) and said he was ready.
The thing is, Todoroki may have been mentally prepared to have sex in random bathroom stalls, but Katsuki was not. That, coupled with the numbness of his legs, and the suppression of his quirk, meant that sitting on Todoroki’s cock, as he sat on the closed lid of the toilet, wasn’t a great experience.
At all.
Todoroki had tried stretching him with warmed, lube-coated fingers, and it worked, sort of. After several tries, they’d finally gotten Todoroki’s dick in, which in itself shouldn’t have been a feat.
They soon found that they couldn’t really move with the same smoothness as before. As Katsuki lifted himself, a stinging pain throbbed below his waist. And as he sunk back down, the sting magnified into pure agony. It was nothing like the usual pain he enjoyed before, infused with pleasure from the steady drag of a cock back and forth inside him.
This time, it just fucking hurt. Everything was too dry.
Katsuki panted on Todoroki’s lap, wincing from the pulse of the other male’s cock in him. Having relied purely on upper strength to move, he was left defeated by his uncooperative legs and ass. His face pressed against Todoroki’s shoulder as he bit back a wounded groan.
What should he do?
Should he keep going and hope Todoroki came? Or stop and (God forbid) apologize? He remembered Vlad King, all smug, and thought, fuck that…Offer to take a raincheck instead, maybe?
“You don’t really want to do this, do you?” came Todoroki’s voice, a low murmur in his ear.
Katsuki went still. He hoped Todoroki wasn’t so obtuse. That he would immediately take his silence as a yes.
“Bakugo… I’m here for you. As a friend, as… Anything you want me to be.”
A cold hand patted his back. Katsuki was relieved (not sure why), to feel Todoroki’s cock softening inside him.
“Bakugo…?”
“I can’t get up,” he finally admitted, with a hollow laugh. “My legs still won’t fucking work.”
“Recovery Girl can—”
“Tried Recovery Girl. She can’t do shit. Just keeps telling me to wait. Wait for this fucking tattoo to fade, wait for my quirk to come back, wait for my legs to repair themselves or whatever…”
“I’ll help you get back to the dorms.”
Katsuki took a deep breath.
“Okay,” he relented.
He had officially lost, at last succumbing to the embarrassment that had been steadily building, after all the incidents from that same day.
So he let Todoroki lift him off his lap, let Todoroki grab him by the waist and steady him as he hobbled out of the bathroom.
He’d done this before, with Deku, during that stupid-ass survival training. This time, though, both of his legs were fucked up. He took solace in the fact that this time, Todoroki hadn’t offered to carry him, even though it would certainly get them to Heights Alliance faster.
They ran into a girl right upon leaving the restroom. She was too stunned to speak, but her eyes raked over them, and Katsuki could already predict the conclusions forming in her mind. Both of them leaving the toilets, Todoroki having to support him as he walked with a noticeable limp?
Fuck, the stories practically wrote themselves.
Todoroki looked directly at her and held up a finger to his lips and she nodded, hands covering her mouth.
“Hurry up,” Katsuki urged, knowing fully well that he was the one slowing them down.
“Right.”
They made it back (eventually). The sight of Heights Alliance’s front door filled Katsuki with relief, and after a silent ride in the elevator, he was back on his floor.
“Almost there,” Todoroki said unnecessarily.
“Yes, I know where we are, half-and-half, I don’t need your running commentary.”
He was escorted, all the way to his door. Todoroki stood quietly as Katsuki fiddled with his keycard.
“I can take it from here,” he said, as his door swung open.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
Todoroki slowly withdrew his hands, stopping abruptly as Katsuki wobbled. But he could stand, more easily than before. There was some lingering shaking that was manageable. With a grunt he nudged Todoroki’s hands away, signifying that his coddling was no longer necessary. They’d both suffered enough.
Todoroki stared at him before proceeding back to the elevator.
Katsuki wrestled with himself for a moment, before he called out.
“Todoroki!”
The taller figure stopped and turned around.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
He slammed the door closed before Todoroki could say anything more.
--
[so u love redheads. well I don’t normally go for blondes but m willing to make an exception for u. whaddaya say bakuho]
[I could see how turned on you were when you were strapped down at the pedestal during sports fest… I bet you loved that, bound and gagged in public... I know what you want and I can give it to you babe, could tie you up and slap you around before stuffing your sweet ass with cock. I could have you screaming my name, just say the word…]
With a roll of his eyes, Katsuki flung his phone onto the bedcovers. Although his legs twinged with numbness every now and then, there was no way he was gonna be able to sleep tonight knowing his balcony was full of garbage. So he gathered up a broom, dustpan and a washcloth, and got to work.
Pushing the sliding door open, he stepped onto the largest visible uncovered space of floor he could find, his feet surrounded by a pile of condoms and tampons. Little by little he began to clear away the debris. It was cathartic seeing everything swept into the dustpan, slowly clearing up his balcony.
“Uh…”
Swiveling his head, Katsuki saw Kirishima, who looked sheepish to be caught on the balcony next to his. Just like their bedrooms, their balconies were similarly adjoined, only separated by a foot-wide gap. Kirishima’s elbows were resting on the ledge. Clearly, he’d been out there for a while, probably longer than Katsuki.
“Hey, Katsuki,” Kirishima said, clearly unsure of whether to smile or frown, so he had a funny expression on, attempting to do both. Katsuki merely grunted and resumed his work.
“That’s messed up, what they did…” His voice dripped with sympathy, but the vagueness of his comment served to annoy Katsuki. What was messed up? Who was 'they'? Was he referring to the match earlier? The shit on his doors? Or everything in general?
“Yeah, well,” Katsuki said, and promptly struggled to end his sentence. “…No one at UA knows how to mind their own business, see.”
There was silence again, except for Katsuki’s sweeping and the rustling of plastic as he transferred the last of the condom wrappers to the dustpan then leaned his broom and dustpan against the wall and retrieved the washcloth hanging on the balcony’s edge.
He moved on to the writing on the glass, brushing away ‘CHEATER’ with his washcloth. From inside his room, he could hear more notifications from his phone.
“So, Todoroki huh?” Kirishima said tentatively, and Katsuki immediately tensed. He must’ve heard them out in the hall.
“I wasn't expecting you to rebound, but I’m… I’m happy for you, man,” claimed the man who was not even bothering to try and sound the least bit happy. “Even if it does seem kind of… Soon? And it’s weird that you wanted us to be a secret so badly, but now you two are practically flaunting your relationship in my face, but…”
The washcloth fell to the floor with a splat as Katsuki marched over to the edge of the balcony, fuming.
There is nothing going on between me and Todoroki, was what he should’ve said. But he was feeling tetchy from the days’ events, and Kirishima wasn’t helping by lobbing yet another unfounded accusation at him.
“Well Todoroki doesn’t blab to Tetsu, at least,” he said, glaring. It was immature, yes, but so was this whole debacle, and pretending he was above it all had only gotten him in worse shape. Kirishima’s mouth opened, then closed, guiltily. Then it settled into a frown as he stepped closer.
“Hey, you’re the one who was so ashamed of me—”
“I wasn’t ashamed!” Katsuki snapped. “I told you a million times, that I just didn’t feel the need to tell people. Well, you had to, and look at that, you got exactly what you wanted. Must feel great being patted on the back for having fucked me.”
Kirishima looked stricken, his eyes rounder than ever. But he didn’t speak, gaze shifting as several more chimes emitted from inside Katsuki’s room.
“Ignore that,” Katsuki said, before adding with fierceness: “Probably just a dozen more dick pics.” Kirishima flinched, but didn’t respond. “If you have nothing else to say, then leave me the fuck alone. I’m cleaning.”
He retrieved the washcloth and focused his attention back on the glass, wiping away ‘PROM SIZE QUEEN’.
“Why did you do all that with me then?” Kirishima asked in a low voice.
He was asking purposefully leading questions, searching for a specific answer that Katsuki could not give. This conversation was bound to disappoint the both of them.
“It felt good, why else?” he replied, looking determinedly at the glass and scrubbing off the ‘HOME’ part in ‘HOMEWRECKER’.
“Felt good? That’s all? So it meant nothing to you?”
“Of course it meant something to me! You think I’d do that with just anyone?”
“Then why—with Midoriya?”
Katsuki found himself back against the edge of the balcony, rambling with a dirty washcloth in hand. “Why does anyone make mistakes? Because they’re stupid and weak! I don’t know what I’m doing either, you know! I didn’t think I’d—it’s not as if I’m happy with myself.”
I’m sorry. I fucked up, he tried to say through his gaze alone, too chickenshit to say the words out loud, but Kirishima wasn’t looking at him, preferring to stare down at his own feet while Katsuki poured his heart out the best he could.
“D’you think I liked how any of this turned out?” He said. “All I ever think about is how happy I was with you! And I can never—” His voice broke. “I can never get that back. There, is that what you wanted to hear?”
Kirishima remained silent, before closing the distance between them. He reached across the balcony ledge and touched Katsuki, hesitantly on the shoulder.
Katsuki didn’t move. Kirishima bent forward, leaning over the gap in their balconies, and wrapped his arms around him.
He was immediately surrounded by the warmth of the other male’s jacket, and the smell of hairspray that he used to rib him about constantly. There was nothing he could do but mentally kick himself for not appreciating Kirishima’s hugs when he should have. Back then, he’d complained that Kirishima was too fucking touchy-feely – how stupid had he been?
“It hurts, and I’ve never been more confused and angry in my life,” Kirishima murmured into Katsuki’s ear, his tone as shaky as his embrace. “I still don’t know what to do, but you’re my best friend, and I really miss you.”
Katsuki pressed his face into Kirishima’s shoulder.
“…Me too.”
A traitorous voice in his head reminded him that he had made out with Deku and fucked Todoroki just before, and was now cuddled in Kirishima’s arms. The memories forced a crack in his resolve – he was starting to think there was some truth to the writings on the glass.
--
[You are so damn hot!! too bad you’re only into monster cocks :( :( :(]
[I bet sludge villain was your first. Stuffed you with gunk from both ends and until now you still can’t get enough you nasty bitch. Next time I hope you get raped to death]
They seemed to be making a contest out of who could send him the grossest shit. For what reason, he had no idea; it’s not like they could see his reaction. Deleting all the messages and dick pics had become part of his normal routine, so Katsuki was hardly phased by now, as he continued the process of wiping his inbox clean for the nth time.
He arrived at one image that had been sent three minutes ago. It was not a dick pic, surprisingly enough. And the tone was markedly different from the garbage he’d been sent daily since his secret was outed.
This was different.
It was a picture… Of him and Todoroki.
In grainy black and white. A screenshot from a security camera, of them kissing in the hall.
The text:
[Piece of advice: keep it to the bedroom. This picture might not be so illicit, but as you know, there are many others. Images, clips – you name it. If you don’t want your reputation ruined for good, meet me at the Kōatsu Coffee near UA in an hour. Tell anyone, and I’ll spread them anyway.]
His blood ran cold.
He didn’t give two shits whether anyone saw the picture with him and Todoroki. But as the message implied, this fucker had access to CCTVs in all public areas… Like the locker room.
And if it were limited to still photographs, he could easily cry Photoshop. But an actual video? If that leaked online, there was no telling how long the madness would go on for.
The perpetrator was most likely a UA student. He’d listen to their demands, then kick their asses and drag them to Principal Nezu.
If the person was part of a larger group, then there was a chance that the group would spread the contents anyway. But clearly, this someone wanted something in particular… Otherwise, they’d have done it already.
So. Blackmail, huh? He’d take his chances. It’s not like he had much of a choice.
Katsuki had exited the main gate of UA by the time he realized that he’d taken his pill three hours ago. Therefore… He was quirkless for at least another three.
But he could handle this; it’s not like he was going to blow up the coffee shop anyway. He’d rough them up a little and be back in time for End of Year ceremony, like nothing had ever happened.
Arriving at the street where the line of shops started up, Katsuki cast a wary look around. There was hardly anyone in the vicinity, but he kept his eye out for anyone in a UA uniform.
He walked straight past a supermarket and nearly jumped when a tall woman approached him, pointing at his blazer and gesturing wildly. She was rambling excitedly in French.
What the fuck was a tourist was doing all the way out here?
Katsuki didn’t know, nor did he have time to care.
“Casse-toi,” he growled back, walking on.
The café was down the road. He was about ten minutes early, busy wondering how he was going to resist from beating up whichever UA student tried to blackmail him in public, when his vision just… Stopped working.
Literally.
Katsuki’s eyes were open, and he blinked several times, but the whole world was black. He could still hear birds chirping, hints of faraway conversations, the hum of a vehicle nearby… But he couldn’t see.
Ha? He tried to say, and his mouth opened and formed the words. But no sound came out.
Blind and mute?!
He took one step and swayed. The asphalt was still very much solid beneath his feet. So he could still feel, but someone or something was cutting off his senses one by one. What could he do? He probably looked stupid, standing in the middle of the sidewalk with his mouth and eyes wide open…
Then, an arm curled around his hip. Katsuki jumped and tried to shove it away, but another hand came from a completely different angle and stopped his wrist.
He attempted to detonate his hand, then it struck him that, oh yeah, he’d just taken his meds…
Essentially, he was quirkless.
“Shhh, don’t worry.” There were lips against his ear, and a rather boyish voice spoke. The person who grabbed him steered him sideways. The engine hum was getting louder. There was a sound of a van door opening.
A hand slid into his pocket, pulled out his phone and tossed it on the sidewalk. He heard the crack of its screen.
“Relax, Bakugo.”
His kidnapper let out a musical laugh.
“Your dashing hero’s about to sweep you off your feet.”
Notes:
-I meant to upload this chapter a few days earlier considering it was essentially done! But I was really struggling with the dialogue in a certain scene.
-Poor Bakugo gets another 14k words of humiliation!
-We're going back to all of 1-A next chapter!
-Will the KiriTodoDeku interviews go well? Will we ever see All Might again? Are we gonna keep pretending we don't know who kidnapped Bakugo? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Stay tuned!
Chapter 9: Deku, Kiri & Todo Need Somebody To Love
Summary:
Three boys, 1 Bakugo.
Notes:
Thank you so much to everyone who read and commented! I love your comments so much! I'm just so sorry I've been so late to reply (which I'm only doing right now, so disappointed in myself), since real life caused me to miss a lot of deadlines.
Thank you to:
filledyogurt, marblefire, heartsinhay, Glaxeelk, dililypoof, Explosiveicyhot, Honest_Orange2, nowiknow;), DolmioPasta, tsubasahana (PhyllisCake), Rai, PastaPotatoes, luminous_zen, sinssansguilt, KathyBoug, LacedSkeletons, kusuri, SimpForStrongBoys, gukkiiii, SuzuAmeda, Chlo_EEEE21, SpiffyCo, Starkisssu, Idkeiadh_BakuBB4, ChickeNugget, Somerandomperson, Chifu, RekkaKouyuu, whitehairedikemen, glitterfangirl, Mika.ela, Wolfey, ferries, blueseagull, You’reMyNicotine, Peer_Gynt, ppcokei, SM96B, Olive_bnha, Kae, Chibinatalia
And a big thank you to the brilliant Kae for creating this wonderful finished video based on the fic!
Lastly, thanks to everyone on Discord and Twitter!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
-----Kirishima Is In Misery-----
In hindsight, screaming at the top of your lungs, announcing your status as jilted lover and brawling with the guy he cheated on you with… Hadn’t been the manliest course of action.
Eijirou didn’t know what came over him. When Midoriya grabbed Katsuki, all he saw was red. Yes, it felt satisfying to leave such a huge imprint on Midoriya’s face. But he’d felt like total shit after that, his jealousy and anger magnified, rather than assuaged by the incident.
And now, because of his blunder, everyone in class knew. Leaving his room officially became the hardest task in the world because he was terrified of bumping into someone. He planned instead to go forego breakfast in the dining room and maybe get a snack at the convenience store, then go for a jog. It was early enough that no one should be awake, so Eijirou crept down the stairs as quietly as he could.
His plans were thwarted, though, as he was halfway down the last flight of stairs. The path to the front door was blocked by three pairs of classmates (Sero, Mina, Jirou, Kaminari, Ojiro, Hagakure) gathered on the common room couches, deep in conversation. At seven in the morning…?
“I just can’t even picture it… Seriously, I can’t. Bakugo getting some?” Kaminari was speaking. It wasn’t said in his usual jesting tone.
“I’d say he was getting most, not some,” Sero said, equally grave.
“Bakugo as a homewrecker… Who would’ve ever thought?” Mina said. And Eijirou flinched, because blowing up Katsuki’s reputation was not at all how he’d wanted this to go.
What did you expect would happen, though?
“Not just a homewrecker, he was cheating on Kirishima. Our Kirishima,” Sero replied.
Hagakure tapped (what was presumably) her head, thoughtful. “How did we not notice they were doing it? All those ‘study sessions’…”
“Well, Bakugo’s just that good, I guess, if he managed to hide it behind everyone’s backs while still having time to entertain Midoriya on the side,” Ojiro said, shrugging. “And it sounds like he only went after Midoriya when he got together with Todoroki? I mean, Bakugo clearly seduced him.”
“Bakugo? Seducing anyone?”
“Yeah, well apparently there’s a lot about Bakugo we don’t know.”
“He had a taste of Kirishima’s dick and wanted another. It happens.”
“Kinda puts a whole new light onto all their interactions. Does that mean, that time in class—”
“Oh, Midoriya and Bakugo’d definitely just done it. It makes so much sense!”
“Just a sec, guys,” Sero said, and turned to the stairs. “Kirishima, man, I know you’re there. I can hear your breathing.”
“H-how!” He yelped, nearly falling over the bannister.
“I guess my hearing got better to compensate for my eyesight,” Sero explained, and made a gross sniffling sound. Meanwhile, Mina bounded up the stairs and grabbed Eijirou’s arm to physically haul him over to the couch, despite his protests.
So they’d been waiting for him, apparently prepared to ambush him right out of bed. Although why it was just the couples that were involved, he could only guess. Perhaps it was their sense of personal responsibility driving them to ‘comfort’ him, knowing that they could very well be in his shoes someday.
Their behavior seemed so… Childish. Which was probably what Katsuki had felt all along, hence the secret-keeping…
“Oh no, you’re not getting away! Sit.” Mina pushed him onto a spot between Sero and Kaminari. “Why didn’t you just tell us?” Her hands were on her hips, strongly reminding Eijirou of an irate mother.
“I did!”
Sero snorted. “Yeah, as a joke!”
“I can’t believe you let me go on and on about how you should have sex, uuuugh!” Kaminari said, tossing his head back into the cushions.
“It’s time to spill, Kirishima. You have no problem shouting it to the whole gym, but now you don’t want to tell us?” He looked around guiltily at the faces of Jirou, Ojiro and in the direction of Hagakure. “C’mon, we’re all friends here.”
Ironically, now that they were asking for the whole story, he had never been more reluctant to speak about Katsuki. But the cat was out of the bag, and their gazes were all boring into skull, hungry for information. He was utterly trapped.
So Eijirou spilled. Every word that came out of his mouth, he wished he could swallow back up. But all the same, the moment he’d started, he couldn’t stop: he recounted the night they’d started. The way it escalated. The manner in which Midoriya found out. And they reacted at appropriate times, with gasps, wide eyes and disbelieving laughter, going as far as to say “you didn’t!”/”Bro, seriously?” when Eijirou admitted to going Unbreakable.
“But… Why did you hide it from everyone?” Mina asked, her eyebrows slanting and highlighting her sad-puppy expression. She seemed to be the one most hurt by his secrecy.
“Katsuki wanted to keep it private,” Eijirou said, gaze lowering. “And I guess I went and proved his point as to why it should’ve stayed that way.”
“You guys are broken up then?” Sero asked in what was practically a whisper.
“I don’t know how far back he and Midoriya go, so…” All eyes were on him, and he—it felt much more difficult to talk with his chest on the verge of bursting. “Were we ever even together?”
“Would you feel so betrayed if you weren’t?” Jirou pointed out.
Eijirou didn’t know what to say to that.
“This is absolutely blowing my mind,” Kaminari said. “I didn’t know Bakugo was such a… Such a s--”
“Such a what?”
Katsuki said, emerging from the elevator. Everyone froze.
It was awful, being caught in the act, doing the one thing Katsuki had specifically asked him to do. No, they trapped me here, they forced me, Eijirou was dying to say, but the words were caught in his throat, leaving him gulping like a fish out of water instead.
But hadn’t Katsuki done the same? Arguably worse? Katsuki had cheated on him, he didn’t have the right to rag on someone else for breaking promises—
“What?” Katsuki growled, giving each of them (barring Eijirou) a look that could kill. “You keep talking shit about me but now that I’m here you can’t say it to my face?”
Nobody spoke. They stayed quiet, keeping their gazes trained elsewhere.
“Assholes.”
The blond stomped off to the kitchen without another word.
--
He didn’t think it was possible, but things somehow went from bad to worse.
Eijirou was in a foul mood the entire morning since last night’s party had ended in disaster. He’d left right after Monoma’s awful prank, fuming the whole night inside his room, torn between anger at Monoma for doing that to Katsuki and confusion at Katsuki for having slept with Todoroki.
They hadn’t had a proper conversation since the gym incident, so finding out that Katsuki had slept with yet another classmate, instead of trying to hash things out with him, felt like another stab in the back. Was Todoroki a rebound? Or was Katsuki just demonstrating just how little he’d cared about Eijirou after all?
Either reason didn’t seem like a choice Katsuki would have ever made; then again, neither did sleeping with Midoriya. Which left Eijirou wondering if he’d ever truly known Katsuki at all.
When he entered the cafeteria, the last thing he expected was a round of applause. Most of it was coming from a table populated by 1-B students, but cheers resonated from every direction. Before Eijirou could react, an arm had wrapped around his shoulders and he was being ushered toward the 1-B guys, who were slapping him on the back as they congratulated him.
“W-what’s going on?” He asked, blinking profusely.
“You’re a certified Chad!” One of them said, flinging a magazine in his direction.
Eijirou noticed the familiar faces on the cover and quickly scanned through it, his jaw dropping.
“What the hell is this?!”
“You haven’t seen it? Monoma made it. Dude, did you seriously go Unbreakable inside Bakugo?”
“You crazy fucker! You stuck your dick in dynamite and lived!”
“How did Monoma even find out about this? …Tetsu?” Eijirou turned his head deliberately toward one of his closest friends, who was suspiciously quiet at the end of the table. Tetsu caught his eye and flushed.
“I’m sorry, man,” he admitted, shrugging. “He tricked me into saying it. I didn’t mean to. Hey, at least you finally get bragging rights, yeah…?” The sincerity in his eyes did nothing to alleviate the rising panic within Eijirou, as he looked frantically between Tetsu and Bakugo’s magazine spread.
“This isn’t what I wanted!” Eijirou cried out as he tossed the magazine across the table. “Why – why would Monoma do this?”
“Look,” Shishida said. “We get it, alright? Being cheated on and finding out your boyfriend’s a total slut? Must be rough. But you’re gonna teach him a lesson, right?”
1-B (with the exception of Tetsu) were grinning at him, and Eijirou unexpectedly felt small under their not-so-innocent gazes.
“I’m not sure I follow—?”
“We can help you get revenge, if you’d like,” Kamakiri spoke up, and the way he clicked his pincers as he said it was far too menacing for Eijirou’s comfort.
“Revenge? For what?”
“Bakugo being an ungrateful cunt! What else?”
“Don’t!” Eijirou growled, surprising all of them, himself included. “Don’t call him that!” His hands had sharpened of their own volition.
“Look,” Tetsu said after a tense pause. “What matters is that Kirishima here has gone where no man has gone before. You tamed him with your dick, dude. You should be out there giving TedTalks.”
The celebratory vibe had quickly returned. As 1-B peppered him with compliments and questions, Eijirou sank down further in his seat, disorientated by how they continued singing royal praises. And for what?
Fucking Katsuki? All they seemed to care about was the Bakugo aspect rather than the fucking.
A few weeks ago, he would’ve basked in the attention, regaling them with stories of their sexcapades. Right now? He wanted to sink into the floor and never have to hear about his ‘achievements’ ever again.
--
The interview was to take place in one of the empty classrooms, and with no idea of what to expect, Eijirou headed there practically shaking with trepidation. As he traversed through the hallways, people he had never spoken to would wink at him or give him knowing smirks, some going as far as to pat him on the back saying vaguely encouraging things, like “Way to go, man.”
One of them went so far as to proposition him.
“No thank you,” he stammered, and the guy in front of him looked put out by his immediate refusal.
“Why not? You and Bakugo are through, right?”
Hearing that was like taking a harpoon straight to the chest. Eijirou had survived bullet wounds and the pain had been far less agonizing than hearing that question.
“We’re – we’re trying to sort things out, okay?”
He wasn’t lying, so why was the guy stink-eyeing him as if he were? Eijirou thought of Katsuki in his arms, at the balcony… Katsuki had apologized in his own way, which was a start.
“You deserve better! Don’t tell me you’re going to keep being a white knight, simping for that thot like a cuck!”
“I have no idea what any of that means!” Eijirou cried out, hands scraping against his rock-hard hair in frustration. “Look, I’m flattered? Thanks for your concern? But it’s none of your business what goes on between Katsuki and me.”
That they had latched onto Katsuki’s ‘crimes’ like bees on honey was disturbing. Even more strange was how Eijirou received the opposite treatment: he was showered with compliments, people calling him a champ, a king, a legend, someone worthy of utmost sympathy and respect.
…He hated it. He hadn’t deserved any of it, and no one could see what he really was: a miserable coward who couldn’t hold onto someone he loved.
The door to the classroom opened after a few minutes of waiting, and Todoroki popped out, escorted by Midnight. Weirdly enough, there was a hint of a smile on the other student’s face, and Midnight was wiping away a tear.
Eijirou went from concerned to downright anxious.
When Todoroki saw him, his almost-smile faded. But upon passing Eijirou, he slowed down long enough to murmur in his ear.
“Kirishima, can we talk later?”
“I’m not sure I want to, to be honest,” he replied.
“Meet me in the 1-A classroom in an hour. It’s important.”
Before Eijirou could ponder his words, Midnight called him in.
He sat down nervously as Midnight arranged a stack of papers. Present Mic sported an uncharacteristic scowl as he leaned against a desk, on which sat a recorder, its sinister red light gleaming.
“There’s no need to look so terrified, Kirishima. We’re just going to ask you some questions.”
“About what?”
“About Bakugo,” Midnight replied, and cut straight to the chase. “Did he show any romantic interest in you before you had sex?”
Eijirou nearly fell off his chair.
“Erm, I’m not… Not sure—”
More questions came at him at lightning speed.
“Did he inform you of his secondary quirk before initiating sex?”
“You mean, the self-lubrication bit?” He asked, but the two teachers remained silent, their faces unreadable. “No, he sorta just showed me.”
“Then did he wait for you to agree verbally before initiating sex?”
Eijirou let out a strangled noise. “Well, he was right in front of me taking his pants off! I couldn’t exactly say no!”
“Hm,” Midnight said, her mouth a thin line. She and Present Mic stared at each other.
“What? What’d I say?”
They ignored him, and Present Mic took over after a momentary glance at Midnight’s papers.
“How many times in total did you take Bakugo on a trip to pound town?”
“You can’t phrase it like that!” Midnight hissed, elbowing him.
“Oh, sorry. I meant, how many times did you fill Bakugo’s cream donut?”
Midnight slapped a palm to her forehead, Eijirou going rigid like he’d just been electrocuted.
“Is there a point to any of these questions?! What the hell? Why does that matter?” His face felt awfully hot as the memories replayed in his mind. “And honestly, I can’t count the number of times we… It was a lot, okay?!”
“We’ll get to the point in a second, Kirishima,” Midnight said soothingly. “You said you don’t recall the number, but do you remember all of these incidents fully?”
“Of course, why wouldn’t I?”
“And you initiated some of them…?”
“Some? Most of the time it was me making a move.”
“Would you say that the two of you were in an established relationship, then?”
“I’m pretty sure? I mean… We never really—”
And so, the same question that had been plaguing him since the blow-up was back, nagging at him like an incessant fly. Were they actually together?
“Did Bakugo ever confirm that you were in a relationship? Did he refer to you as his boyfriend at any point?”
Midnight was sounding more and more like his conscience, every word another vice around his chest, making it difficult to breathe.
“Uhhh,” Eijirou said. “Well, we pretty much did everything together, so…”
“But no one else knew of this supposed relationship, yes?” Midnight said sharply. “Why is that? Would you say that Bakugo deliberately isolated you from your friends?”
“What? No!” Eijirou found himself grabbing the edges of the chair. “Katsuki’s a really private guy. We both didn’t tell anyone.”
“Why not?”
“Bakugo preferred to keep it secret.”
“Can you tell us why he would not want to share that information with his classmates?”
“Yeah. He thought it was stupid to let everyone know. Again, Katsuki’s naturally a private person. He doesn’t like sharing much of himself with anyone, whether relationship-related or whatever.”
“But it seems he also shared himself with other parties? Were you aware that Bakugo was sleeping with other people during your relationship?”
You never discussed the fine print, popped up that nagging voice again. It’s not like you explicitly agreed not to sleep with other people – no wonder your so-called boyfriend slept around!
“No. I… Look, I’m still trying to piece together what happened. But this isn’t all on Katsuki, okay? Midoriya’s the one who became all buddy-buddy with me after this one night where I dared him to kiss Katsuki—”
“Question,” Midnight cut in, raising a finger. “If he was your boyfriend, why would you dare another man to kiss him? No offense but if I had a husband, I wouldn’t exactly bring a woman to my house and tell him to make out with them.”
“I didn’t think he would actually do it!” Kirishima snapped. He was feeling stupider with every minute in his attempts to defend the existence of a relationship that he himself was now doubting. “I didn’t know, honest… I guess I got kinda cocky…”
“So you’re close enough to be on a first-name basis, but never discussed your relationship, and he was sleeping with other people without your knowledge—”
“No, look.”
Eijirou took a deep breath, and tried to keep the tremors out of his voice.
“I dunno why this thing with Katsuki is such a big issue for your guys, but you’re making this more complicated than it needs to be. Why would we sit around talking about our feelings when we had better things to do?” He thought he saw a hint of sympathy in Midnight’s eyes, so he pressed on.
“Even as friends, we weren’t exactly having heart-to-heart talks. We just… Did typical guy stuff, and we spent every waking moment together. Now could you please explain to me why exactly you’re asking me these questions, because it ain’t fair to me and I don’t think it’s fair to Katsuki either.”
Midnight hesitated, her fingers curling tighter around the papers. But to Eijirou’s surprise, she acquiesced to his plea.
“We’re asking because UA has serious concerns about Bakugo’s quirk. There’s a theory from one of the staff—” He could’ve sworn her eyes rolled as she said it. “—That perhaps his quirk may be affecting your judgement without your, or even his, knowledge. If he has that power over other people, then that power should be immediately contained.”
“He wouldn’t—Bakugo wouldn’t do that to me, or to anyone else! He has no reason to!”
“You’re one of the most promising students in 1-A. So there’s a distinct possibility that if his quirk were as… Intoxicating as suspected, it would be an easy way to take out the competition, so to speak.”
And wasn’t that the dumbest thing he’d ever heard? Yes, Katsuki smelled funny. Yes, his self-lubrication was a fucking marvel to have in bed. But it’s not like Eijirou’d been… Hypnotized by it. Nor was it the sole reason Eijirou loved fucking him.
The accusation was insulting to Katsuki and insulting to him, implying the only way he’d go that far with the blond were if he had been possessed—
“Katsuki’s been helping me study for months!” Eijirou declared. “He wouldn’t need to do that to be better than me, because he already is! Why are you pinning the blame on him for a quirk he clearly doesn’t have?”
He looked accusingly at the both of them, and received guilty looks in return. Leaning forward, Eijirou ignored the burning sensation in his eyes.
“Is it really so farfetched that best friends would develop into something more?”
-----Todoroki Dreams On-----
After his disastrous…Ly amazing encounter with Bakugo, Shouto’s mind was left in an even bigger tangle.
The dreams had intensified, and had started showing up during the day, too. Which meant it was that much harder to get through class without sneaking a look at the blond every couple of minutes. He instinctively searched for traces of the expressions from when Shouto had him in his bed, gasping beneath him—
This was decidedly not good, as Shouto had no idea what to do from this point onward. Ask to do it again? Ask Bakugo to be his boyfriend? …Get down on one knee and propose?
Hold on hold on wait a minute, wasn’t he getting ahead of himself again? Wasn’t he growing attached for stupid reasons?
Well, at least Bakugo’s reaction would be funny…
Shouto liked to think he was a rational man.
That fleeting moment wherein he had a strong desire to buy an engagement ring, absolutely terrified him, as it signified that he was going mad. He took it as a sign that he needed to talk to someone about this ASAP.
He ruled out everyone from 1-A, because the last thing he wanted to do was confront any one of his classmates and ask them why he had the sudden urge to get down on one knee for Bakugo, right after having sex with him.
Sudden urges tended to have unpredictable results. The last time he’d had them, he’d burned up a perfectly good suit (bad) and dragged Bakugo to his room to fuck (good).
But who could be his voice of reason? By default, there was only one person left…
“Camie.” He’d meant to say ‘Hi, how are you’, but instead what came out next was “Bakugo and I had sex.”
The reaction was immediate. Camie started squealing so loudly that Shouto had to hold his phone at arms’ length while her brown hair bobbed in and out of the screen.
“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!” She flailed, before screaming at an even higher pitch while Shouto patiently waited for her to finish. “WHEN?”
“Four days ago.”
“Sksksksk YES!” She pumped her fist in the air. “Inasa owes me so hard!”
“You—you bet that Bakugo and I would sleep together?”
“Well, we both did!” She burst into giggles upon after Shouto’s made a series of confused blinks. “He was soooo sure you’d do it after that one time in remedial. My bet was you’d do it anytime other than that.”
“Why would he assume that?” And how was that bet in any way fair? It was slowly dawning on Shouto that Inasa was quite possibly denser than he was.
“Bruh,” she said. “You were staring at Bakugo’s ass for like twenty minutes during orientation. We both knew.”
Again, Shouto had been staring not at his ass, but at his waist, wondering if he could wrap his hands around all the way. It was a perfectly normal thing to ponder…
Okay, thinking back, he wanted to punch his past self. Because he’d been blind to his own attraction, despite it being obvious even then – God. No wonder people called him an airhead.
“Well? You can’t just drop that bomb and not share deets!”
“We, we had sex and ate chocolates in my room.”
“How was it?!”
“They were really spicy,” Shouto said, rubbing his chin. “And the flavor took some time to get used to.”
“I MEANT THE SEX!”
Shouto spluttered, unsure of how to proceed. Should he enumerate positions? Mention the crowns? Narrate how his dick had gotten stuck…?
“What exactly about it, would you like to know,” he said, steeling his resolve.
Camie looked downright diabolical, a sharp contrast to her girlish tone.
“How was he? Was he more of a—”
And then the image on Shouto’s screen grew hazy, Bakugo’s face forming in the mist.
“Y-yeah, Todoroki, harder,” the Bakugo on-screen moaned, in Bakugo’s voice. Redness was spread across his nose and his eyes were milky and dazed, and it looked so similar to the real deal that Shouto felt an embarrassing stirring in his pants.
“Or perhaps he was more like—” Camie said from off-screen, and the Bakugo reshaped into an angry one.
“Fuck me like you mean it, nghh, you piece of shit!” He panted, his voice hitching.
“Um,” Shouto said, at a loss for words. He really didn’t need to see that. A change in topic was in order. “Camie, the reason I called is because I need your help.”
“Hmm?” Bakugo’s face dissolved to unveil Camie’s. “You did Bakugo, what else is left for you to do?”
“Yes, but he’s slept with other people too and… I don’t know where to go from here.”
“Do you wanna be his boyfriend? I thought y’all were, like, dating other people?”
“Yes. I dunno. Maybe?” Shouto said, with a confused groan. “He cheated on his ex-boyfriend. With my ex-boyfriend. Which is why I slept with him... It’s complicated.”
With an exaggerated gasp, Camie covered her mouth. “Oh wow, twist of the century. Okay. Hoo boy, that’s a lot to unpack. Well, he slept with you and that counts for something, right?”
“I suppose…”
“If you seriously wanna get with him again, you just have to figure out if he likes you more than he likes the rest, alright? Wait for the right signs, before making the next move?”
“Signs?”
“Y’know, like him saying or doing stuff to indicate he’s still majorly into you?”
The Bakugo illusion was back, snarling at Shouto through the screen:
“I-it’s not like I like you or anything, idiot!”
“Could you maybe stop with the illusions,” Shouto pleaded in a strained voice.
“Ah, ah, ah, but illusions are the best way to figure out someone’s weak spot!” Camie said, and she looked so frighteningly cheerful that her eyes were narrowed into slits. “Show ‘em their deepest fears or deepest desires and if you’re lucky, they’re one in the same!”
“Tell me more about these ‘signs’,” Shouto said hurriedly, wanting to steer clear of any more illusions.
He’d forgotten how scary Camie could be when she put her mind to it.
--
Things got a little complicated when everyone else found out.
At first, Shouto hadn’t noticed. He was long used to the stares, which presumably were due to his scar. But they changed after the party with 1-B, escalating into full-on encounters. A girl approached him, giggling, and said “So, I heard you like blondes.”
It was a bizarre statement, considering Shouto didn’t particularly hate any hair color. Or maybe that was a knock at how his own hair wasn’t constrained to one shade?
And that wasn’t all. Multiple girls would say some variation of “you can always come to me for comfort,” one particularly brazen one saying “I could just turn around and you could pretend I’m him,” which Shouto didn’t really want to think about in depth.
He headed to cafeteria, and there was more giggling than usual as he passed, some guy yelling “Todoroki, you’re the man!” which he dutifully ignored. He saw the familiar faces of the 1-A girls crowding at the same table, and decided he would eat with them.
Only, one of the seats was already occupied by a male student he didn’t know, who had his elbow on the table and seemed to be lacking a food tray. He was leaning in and talking to Uraraka with a smirk. Shouto bent over to tap him on the shoulder, balancing his tray of food on one arm.
“…I’m just saying, you could make my D go sky high,” were the only words he caught.
“Excuse me, you don’t seem to be eating so I’d like to take that seat, if you don’t mind.”
The guy recognized him and his eyebrows reached his hairline before he garbled unintelligibly and left. Uraraka breathed a sigh of relief as Shouto sat down between her and Yaoyorozu.
“Thanks, Todoroki. He was being a creep.”
She prodded at her food, shoulders slumped, which left Shouto downright confused, because the last time she had been in a similar mood was before prom. Yet evidently, a boy had just flirted her, so why was she sad now?
Shouto focused on his meal as every now and then, a student would confront one of the girls, and try to engage them in conversation only for to be brushed off.
“Why do random guys keep coming here?” He finally asked.
“You haven’t seen it?” Jirou said, as she flashed her middle finger at a boy with three hands, who was making odd gestures at her from a nearby table.
Uraraka passed him a magazine, which Shouto browsed through with interest. This was… Definitely interesting information. But most of its claims were dubious, he could immediately tell.
“This isn’t accurate,” he said, arriving at his section. “The gym didn’t burn down because Bakugo and I were playing ‘hide the roman candle’. We did it in my room much later on, and as long as I didn’t create fire, I could use the hot part of my quirk while inside him without ill effects.”
“Jeez, Todoroki!” Mina said, giggling. “TMI much?!”
Shouto had been serious, but somehow his words had lightened their demeanors considerably, because his tablemates were all smiling or outright laughing at him now, their cheeks crimson.
“TMI…?”
“Hey Mina, when Sero’s face falls off, feel free to hop onto mine,” catcalled another passer-by.
“In your dreams, asshole,” she said without missing a beat.
“Don’t be a frigid bitch!” Mina visibly rolled her eyes, but her rebuffs did nothing to deter the student, who turned his attention to the other girls instead. “Ah well, I’m sure Yaoyorozu or Tsuyu are wetter anyway—”
“So unrefined,” Yaoyorozu said, looking like she was on the verge of throwing up.
“Beat it!” Tsuyu shot back (“Oh, I will,” the guy leered). Even Tsuyu, who was normally unperturbed by other people’s comments, practically wilted on the spot. She was hunched so low in her seat that her chin was on level with the table.
“Kaminari doesn’t deserve you,” the three-handed male from earlier called to Jirou. “Wouldn’t you rather be with a guy who won’t defibrillate you by accident?”
“Leave me alone!” Jirou shouted, causing the opposite table to burst into laughter. “Ugh! This is the worst.” She threw down her utensils, and was already gathering up her things when Awase approached their table.
“Yaoyorozu—” he began to say, but she also stood up, and Shouto caught a glimpse of her teary eyes.
“No thank you, Awase!” She said a bit too loudly. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Let’s get outta here,” Hagakure said, packing up along with everyone else. “We can eat in the dorms.”
“I can’t believe we used to complain about no one noticing us! This feels disgusting!” Uraraka lamented to Tsuyu.
“Why don’t you tell Aizawa?” Shouto asked, watching their backs as they collectively departed.
“Please, Todoroki,” Uraraka said with one final look back at him. “The school never cared whenever we complained about Mineta pulling stunts like this. Why would they start now?”
Shouto ended up finishing his meal alone, deep in thought.
--
Strangers’ offhand comments made a lot more sense now after reading that magazine. But the girls definitely bore the brunt of the horrible treatment, and compared to theirs, Shouto’s was nothing. He could easily ignore girls making strong implications about pretending to be Bakugo in bed.
He did, however, wind up finding some graffiti on his locker before the joint training with 1-B. Problem is, he couldn’t even distinguish what the scribbles were trying to say, so he called over the closest person to come help decipher it.
That person… Happened to be…
“Midoriya.” The other male’s head shot up, clearly surprised that Todoroki was addressing him directly. To be fair, Shouto was equally stunned by his own action.
He wasn’t really quite sure how to feel about his… Ex. Sometimes he felt they could engage in polite conversation, and then the next second, bitterness overtook all other emotions after recalling what Midoriya had done.
“I don’t understand these drawings. Can you help me?”
Midoriya walked over robotically, and stared at them for a moment. His eyes sharpened in recognition, but whatever it was, he was reluctant to say.
“I think that’s supposed to be… Us.”
“Us?” Shouto repeated.
Midoriya pointed at the figures one by one. “You, me, Kirishima and…” His index finger landed on a caricature in the center, whose head resembled a sea urchin. “Kacchan.”
“I don’t get it. What’s going on?”
“We’re…” Midoriya swallowed audibly. “We’re all banging Kacchan.”
“Huh.”
Shouto squinted. He could see it now, except… Not really. Bakugo may have been good, but Shouto strongly doubted that he could fit three dicks in him at the same time. The angles didn’t even make sense. The drawing had vastly overestimated Bakugo’s flexibility.
“I see. Thanks,” he said, and despite his gratitude, he also felt a strange burning in his gut, telling him he didn’t want to be around Midoriya anymore.
“Todoroki—”
Shouto kept walking.
He still couldn’t completely remove Midoriya from the equation, their relationship history now a stain on his… Affair? One night stand? With Bakugo. Odd, considering that a few weeks prior, it had been the opposite.
The fact that Midoriya’s and Kirishima’s names popped up in his head almost as often as Bakugo’s, just because they were as connected to him as Shouto was, left a bad taste in his mouth.
He wondered if all of them were going through the same thing. Were they also being approached by random strangers who felt the need to share with him their disconcerting comments? Were their lockers tampered with? Did they also think about him, and about this tangled web they created?
Shouto got his answer upon witnessing Bakugo’s match with 1-B.
“What the fuck, what the fuck – what are they doing?!”
Kirishima nearly crushed Shouto in his efforts to throw himself off the bleachers to reach Bakugo, but Shouto grabbed him.
“Let go, man!”
“No, let me—” Handle it, except the words didn’t get to leave his mouth. His near-attempt to freeze Bakugo’s attackers was thwarted by Midoriya, who had acted first. Resentment bubbled inside Shouto as he was forced to continue restraining Kirishima, while Midoriya got to posture in front of the whole class at how he’d saved Bakugo.
The resentment carried over to the next matches, until Shouto noticed Bakugo sneaking his way out of the gym. He decided to follow him.
Bakugo made a stop at the clinic, but left it yelling at Recovery Girl from the doorway. Then he headed to the restroom. Shouto paused, standing out in the hall. Should he follow him in? And then what…?
Before he could conjecture further, he heard a familiar breathing, and went still.
“Following me while I’m following someone? Really, Midoriya?”
Midoriya skittered out from behind a post, without a hint of embarrassment on his face at being caught. If anything, he looked furious that Shouto had dared to call him out for it.
“Todoroki, this has to stop,” he said.
Shouto eyed the restroom door. Bakugo was taking an awfully long time in there…
“It really does. So get back to class before we all get in trouble.”
“I meant what you’re doing to Kacchan!” Midoriya said, voice rising as he started toward him.
Shouto wondered if this was really how it was going to go, a showdown with his ex-boyfriend in the middle of a school hallway, with both of them decked out in their hero costumes.
“You slept with him just to get back at me!”
“I slept with him because he wanted me to,” Shouto snapped. “Why aren’t you asking Bakugo why he slept with me? He can make his own choices, you know. Leave him alone.”
“You followed him here!”
“So did you!”
There was a thump against the door that made both of them jump.
“Kacchan—” Midoriya breathed.
“Go away, Midoriya. Haven’t you meddled enough? I can handle this.”
“No, Kacchan needs—”
“He doesn’t need you!”
“You weren’t the one who saved him earlier!”
Shouto gritted his teeth.
“Todoroki, please. Step out of the way.” Sprouting out from Midoriya’s elbow-length gloves were black tendrils. In retaliation, embers arose from Shouto’s left arm.
Midoriya would easily trump him with superior speed and power. But he was hesitating, giving Shouto an opportunity to strike first. He needed one quick move, to incapacitate Midoriya. He couldn’t do that with brute strength, but… He could use something else. Like embarrassment.
In a flash, Shouto shot his flames at Midoriya’s front, careful not to burn his skin but with the intention of obliterating the fabric covering it. His technique worked: Midoriya’s costume was singed away, revealing everything from his chest down to his crotch.
“T-TODOROKI!” Midoriya squawked, mortified, hands shooting to cover his exposed groin.
"Best to stay behind,” Shouto said. It was a rare opportunity for him to be smug, so he reveled in it, mouth twisting upward. “You wouldn’t want to barge in on Bakugo looking like that... He might get the wrong idea…”
While Midoriya continued to sputter, Shouto strode toward the door and kicked it open.
All humor vanished from his face when he saw Bakugo on the floor, surrounded by three goons. The sight was all he needed to activate his left side again and superheat the floor (deliberately avoiding Bakugo’s spot). Predictably, they yowled and ran off without another backward look.
“Bakugo!” He said, plunging toward the blond. In the back of his mind, he regretted having wasted time sizing up Midoriya… How foolish he’d been, prioritizing jealousy over heroism, while Bakugo had been danger barely ten feet away. He’d almost been too late.
“I’m fine, fuck— what the hell are you doing here?”
“I had to use the bathroom,” Shouto lied. Bakugo frowned at him, skeptical, but made no attempt to rise to his feet.
“Are you hurt?” He asked, kneeling next to Bakugo’s prone form.
“I just said I’m fine, you half-wit. I just can’t move my legs much.”
“A quirk?”
“Obviously.”
Shouto made a grab for his arms, leading Bakugo to slap his hands away. He was red-faced while buckling his pants closed and buttoning up his top. Only afterward did he allow Shouto to wind an arm around his waist and pull him into a standing position. In turn, he kept his arm looped around Shouto’s shoulder.
During the whole process, Shouto had glimpsed something peculiar – some ink, on Bakugo’s lower back, revealing letters spelling out ‘TO’. His heart gave a leap.
“The mark on your back… Is that… Is that for me?” He couldn’t help but ask.
“Ha?! Fuck no, it was some shit an extra put on me! Just leave me alone if you’re gonna keep being that stupid!”
Holding his tongue, Shouto led Bakugo slowly out the door, suppressing a groan as he staggered under Bakugo’s full weight. It was like moving around a very noisy, angry mannequin. The blond’s legs were jerky and unresponsive despite his attempts to march them forward.
“This means nothing, alright? I could’ve gotten out on my own! I don’t owe you shit.”
“I never said you did.”
He helped straighten Bakugo on his own two feet, and the blond stood, for a moment, before stumbling onto Shouto again. He cursed under his breath, face nestled in Shouto’s chest, refusing to meet his eyes.
Shouto was well-prepared to escort him all the way back to the dorms, because he knew Bakugo would never ask for help but at this moment, sorely needed it.
Bakugo looked up. His expression surprisingly wasn’t angry, but doleful, which caught Shouto off-guard. He was well aware that Midoriya was still around, angrily watching them both. He’d spotted him earlier upon leaving the restroom, pathetically concealing his nude form behind a column.
“Bakugo,” Shouto murmured, and their eyes met.
Maybe it was in part due to vindictiveness, especially knowing Midoriya was there to witness it, or perhaps it was because of Bakugo pressed up against his chest, which reminded him of prom, and of sex, and of a whole lot of other things.
Ultimately, Shouto didn’t know himself, why he decided that that was perfect moment to kiss Bakugo.
But he sure as hell made a show of it, dipping Bakugo backwards as the blond made a muffled noise of protest, forced to tighten his hold around Shouto’s neck. His head tilted just enough for Shouto to capture his lips (which were strangely dry) with his own, a firm hand on the curve of his lower back.
Shouto kept one eye open and trained on Midoriya. The other male remained chillingly impassive, before turning and dashing off in one ultra-fast blur.
Good riddance.
This allowed Shouto to turn his full attention to kissing Bakugo, tongue plunging into his mouth, even though his inner voice screamed that this was unfair, it’s not like Bakugo could pull away.
The voice grew louder the more muffled noises left Bakugo’s mouth, reminding Shouto that Bakugo was trading one assault for another – so he abruptly stopped and drew back.
“I’m—I’m—” he stammered, the ghost of an apology on his lips.
But Bakugo simply looked at him, and rolled his eyes.
“Come on,” he muttered. Despite his rickety legs, he dragged Shouto back into the bathroom and pushed him to sit down on one of the toilet seats.
“Well? Take your dick out,” he barked after Shouto had stared at him for some time. Bakugo was clinging to the stall for support as Shouto scrambled to follow orders.
“What is it?” Shouto asked, after Bakugo joltingly removed his own pants and just stood there, gazing at Shouto’s dick.
“It’s not going to be as easy as it was last time.”
“Oh.”
“I need some lube,” Bakugo croaked, as he climbed onto Shouto’s lap with great difficulty. His legs were shaking, spread on top of Shouto’s own.
“I have some,” he said, opening one of the canisters that hung from his belt. He inwardly thanked the heavens that he hadn’t changed out of his hero costume before coming after Bakugo, but the blond seemed unimpressed by his well-preparedness so Shouto squeezed lubricant on his warm fingers in silence.
He reached between Bakugo’s legs, not missing the way Bakugo held his breath. He looked anxious, the direct opposite of his confidence from their previous encounter.
“Is that okay?” Shouto asked, slowly inserting one finger.
“Yeah, it’s. Good.”
It was dry. Everything about Bakugo was dry.
And that alarmed Shouto, because that meant Bakugo might be dehydrated again. He was about to ask about it but the blond fixed him with such a fierce glare that told him to shut up and keep going. So he did, warming his fingers as they sunk deeper into Bakugo’s entrance.
But it felt strange, because the lubrication seemed to melt away into nothing. Maybe it was a bad brand? Shouto kept applying more, but it didn’t seem enough, and Bakugo wasn’t stretching the same way he once he did. There was resistance, a lot of it, and this was just from Shouto’s fingers penetrating him. How was he gonna put his dick in…?
“Enough,” Bakugo croaked, panting. He lifted himself and splayed his legs further, his rim perched on Shouto’s dick. “Keep it warm,” he ordered, and sank down – only it wouldn’t go in. Shouto’s dick was bending almost painfully and Bakugo stilled.
“Let me put lube on it,” Shouto hurriedly said, and slathered his dick with the entire contents of the tube in his nervousness.
Bakugo didn’t say anything. He’d been suspiciously quiet throughout this entire affair. It was… Disconcerting. What happened to the gentle ribbing? The teasing? Why did it feel like they were waiting with bated breath for a bomb to go off?
Attempt two didn’t go so well either, his dick sliding along Bakugo’s perineum rather than in.
“Hold it,” Bakugo said, through gritted teeth.
“Hold…?”
“Hold, your dick straight.”
And so Shouto did, and Bakugo sank down again. The head went in, but then popped back out, and Shouto struggled to maneuver it inside again. As if driven by desperation, an intense look crossed Bakugo’s face and he bore down with all his might. Shouto felt the head of his dick spreading Bakugo’s hole wide, piercing him.
It was tight, tight, tight, the pressure so great that Shouto’s eyes were gonna explode out of his skull. But not smooth, like before, and it took ages for Bakugo to bottom out.
Withdrawing was just as strenuous, and Shouto felt the skin of his dick drag painfully as Bakugo lifted off. He didn’t say anything – despite the stinging pain, the pleasure overrode it easily and he thought they were finally getting a rhythm going, that they were going to start moaning together again—
But he caught sight of Bakugo’s face, biting down on the blue fabric of Shouto’s shoulder.
Bakugo had never shown that expression last time. He’d been frustrated, argumentative, annoyed… But never in pain. And with that Shouto noticed everything else, like how exhausted the blond looked. He wasn’t sweating at all, there were shadows over his eyes, and the tremors in his body showed he was well past his limit.
If he had been looking for a sign that Bakugo was into him... This wasn’t it.
But why… Why was Bakugo even doing this, when it pained him so much?
Shouto still liked to think he was a rational man.
He recalled Bakugo’s old words about being ‘even’, and how similar his tone had been to his rambling just a few minutes prior, when he’d said something about ‘owing’ Shouto, and that’s when he finally realized… There was something seriously wrong here.
“You don’t really want to do this, do you?”
Later, as Shouto steered Bakugo back to the dorms, he fought off traitorous thoughts, of how Midoriya would’ve lifted Bakugo easily, and so would Kirishima, whereas Shouto moved at a snail’s pace.
But that wasn’t supposed to matter. They had been fighting over Bakugo all this time while failing to realize the condition he was in.
That was going to have to change.
--
“Do you recall the first time you had sex with Bakugo?”
“Every second of it.”
The words were out of his mouth before Shouto could think. His candidness seemed to surprise Midnight and Present Mic, who looked stricken. They hadn’t seen this response coming.
“I see!” Present Mic said, tracing his moustache. “Can you elaborate on his use of his quirk during the incident?”
“We were in my room. I had him on his back, at first, and he was very tight—”
“If we can fast forward to the part about the quirk, Todoroki,” Midnight butt in.
“Yes. Well, I didn’t notice it much. It smelled like caramel, and we didn’t need to use lubricant because of it, but I was focusing more on my quirk, to be honest.”
“Who initiated the encounter?”
“Me.”
“Oh.” Again, they both appeared visibly surprised. “Huh. May I ask why? Is there anything he did in particular to provoke such a response from you?”
“Provoke…?”
“As in, did he attempt any sexual advances beforehand?”
The kiss. But, Shouto reminded himself, hadn’t Bakugo just been trying to mess with Midoriya at the time?
“I suppose.”
“And you were receptive to these?”
“Not at first. I actually wanted nothing to do with him. Until… I didn’t.”
The corners of Midnight’s lips twitched. Shouto had the distinct impression they were trying to get him to say something very specific…
“Did you find it alarming, then, that your feelings toward him seemingly changed without reason? Did you start having irrational thoughts concerning Bakugo?”
“Like what kind of irrational thoughts?”
“Such as having the urge to do something crazy… Or stupid.”
“Don’t people do stupid things when they’re in love?” Shouto quipped.
“Hold on,” Midnight said, holding up a hand while Present Mic let out a cough that sounded more like a laugh. “So now you’re saying you were in love with Bakugo. But you also just said you also wanted nothing to do with him. So which is it?”
“It’s complicated. I was dating someone else at the time, for all the wrong reasons. My interactions with Bakugo confused me.”
Midnight was leaning forward, looking like she was going to demand that he expound on that latter part, which Shouto did not want to do at all.
“I think it’s about time you told me the real reason for this interview, and if you don’t, I’m afraid I’m going to walk out right now.”
It did the trick. Midnight and Present Mic seemed impressed by his brazenness. So when they finally told him the real reason, Shouto couldn’t help it. He smiled.
He’d had great sex with Bakugo, and terrible sex with Bakugo. And he’d discovered that, yes, the self-lubrication aspect of it was… Very much appreciated. But would he still want to be with Bakugo without it?
And the answer was yes, as he had found out from their disastrous liaison in the bathroom. Because as much as he cherished the feeling of Bakugo’s ass snug around his cock, that wasn’t the only thing that replayed in his dreams nightly. He couldn’t stop recalling Bakugo’s laugh, Bakugo smothering him with a pillow—
Bakugo kissing him… Which had always been… Amazing, his brain quickly supplied.
Shouto was dimly aware that he was smiling airily at nothing in particular, the fluttering in his chest refusing to go away.
No, he wasn’t in it for Bakugo’s quirk. He wasn’t even in it for the sex.
“In that case, then I don’t think any further questioning will be necessary,” he said out loud.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because Bakugo didn’t ‘seduce’ me. In fact, he tried very much to do the opposite. He’d yell at me. Insult me. And for some reason, part of me enjoyed it. I wasn’t thinking at all about his quirk when I asked him to sleep with me.”
Was it just him or were those tears in Midnight’s eyes?
“In the end, we wanted to see where our natural chemistry would take us. What’s wrong with that?”
-----Deku Can’t Always Get What He Wants-----
“I know you’re going to ask me about Kacchan. And while I do promise to answer with utmost honesty, I’d like to know beforehand what exactly this interview is meant to achieve.”
“Smart,” Present Mic muttered. “Asked right off the bat.”
Midnight nodded fervently. Deku, seated on the chair, curled in on himself, hands pale as they gripped his thighs. It had taken a lot out of him just to muster the courage to say that, but the effect was immediate.
“There have been concerns that Bakugo’s quirk might be more than it seems.”
“In what way?” He asked, as politely as possible, while his mind worked at triple the speed. They were threatened by Kacchan’s quirk… But why…?
“We’ll explain more later. What we want to know is what convinced you to sleep with Bakugo.”
“Shouldn’t you be asking Kacchan what convinced him to sleep with me? He hates me, and he’s made that clear several times.”
“That is a good point, actually. You and Bakugo have a colorful history, and he has repeatedly shown violent tendencies toward you within the span of one year. Did he ever hurt you during sex?”
“No, of course not!” He said, fully aware that there were still remnants of scorch marks on his shoulders.
“Did you consent to sleeping with him?”
“Consent…?”
Deku frowned. For some reason, he felt feverish. The topic was going in a direction he hadn’t been anticipating.
“Was there ever a point wherein you said ‘no’, and he kept going?”
“Was Kacchan asked these same questions about… About me and the rest?”
It was much harder to look at Midnight in the eye, and Deku settled for asking the floor instead. He felt warm, and all sounds became muted. He was unable to focus as a series of memories danced in his mind – the locker room, their argument…
“I told you to stop,” Kacchan had said. And at the time, he was perplexed, because since when did Kacchan ever ask to stop…?
“Midoriya,” Midnight said. Deku belatedly realized she had asked another question.
“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”
“I asked: did he ever show signs of being overcome by his quirk, then?”
He was having difficulty speaking, and sweat was trickling down the sides of his face as their interrogation forced him to relive that wretched evening, when he’d lost faith in One for All. When he’d lost Kacchan.
“What exactly do you mean by ‘being overcome by his quirk’?”
“Him losing control of it. For example, his quirk activating unintentionally.”
Like the way Black Whip had started behaving since he used it on Kacchan. It was supposed to feed off his anger, but recently started acting on its own accord.
“Ummmm, no? I’m n-not sure what you mean…”
Present Mic took over.
“In my case,” he started, clearing his throat. “It would be if my Voice quirk made it so that my voice is loud without my willing it to be. That I am unable to lower my volume, despite my efforts. Some people even report having blanks in their memory, or not feeling like themselves, as if they’re been controlled by their quirk rather than the reverse...”
I tried, Deku thought frantically. I tried to get Black Whip to stop, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t even move my own body, even though Kacchan was right there, terrified—
His breathing quickened, at the same time the horror began to set in.
I was the one who hurt Kacchan. I was the one who couldn’t stop, whose quirk went rogue—
“Bakugo has been producing a sweet odor without noticing, which suggests a lack of control, maybe even a lack of awareness of his own quirk activation. We are afraid that the effects of his secretions have not been sufficiently explored, as evidenced by its apparent impact on the three of you. It may have directly caused some lapses in your judgment—”
I broke his hip, and they don’t know—
“I’m not like the rest!” Deku exclaimed. “I’m not saying Kacchan’s quirk did that to them. It has nothing to do with any of this, really. But please don’t lump me in with them.”
Swiping at his eyes, Deku stared directly at his teachers. His hands were practically vibrating. He needed to get out of here, fast, or else who knows what he might say?
“I’ve known Kacchan since even before he got his quirk. And I’ve loved Kacchan since we were both kids. O-of course I wouldn’t say no to him.”
Deku felt numb, walking out of the classroom. He could still hear Midnight and Present Mic discussing the interview, Midnight’s words accentuated with sobs.
“They were all so romantic!” She said, stopping to blow her nose. “I can’t tell which one I want Bakugo to end up with!”
“We’re not here to play the Bachelorette starring Bakugo Katsuki,” Present Mic grumbled. “We’re supposed to be gathering information, yet we hardly learned anything.”
“What are you talking about? We got precisely the info we needed!”
“Like what?”
“That quirks have nothing to do with this! They’re just three confused teenagers who happened to have the same first love!”
--
“What’s he doing here,” was the first thing Deku heard when he entered 1-A’s classroom.
Todoroki was waiting for him next to the blackboard, Kirishima hunched against the wall adjacent to it.
“I asked him to come, too, because we all need to talk.”
“Do we have to? You think I haven’t been grilled enough about Katsuki by Midnight and Present Mic?”
“Todoroki, you better have a good reason why you called me here after burning up my costume,” Deku said with the same irritated tone as Kirishima.
“Wait, you’re the one people saw streaking? So it wasn’t Mirio?” Kirishima let out a cruel laugh.
Gone was the redhead’s sunny disposition, and in its place stood a vicious thug, the same one who’d taken a swing at Deku during dodgeball. To some extent, Deku appreciated that Kirishima was at least showing his true feelings toward him. He had grown sick of his classmates' smiles, the ones that didn't reach their eyes whenever they talked to him. They feigned politeness while calling him a cheater behind his back.
“I do have a good reason,” Todoroki said. Deku cautiously stepped closer, and the three of them formed a very wide triangle. “But first, let’s clear the air right now. I had sex with Bakugo,” he announced, then looked right at Deku. “Right after you and I broke up. Okay?”
“What is this, an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting?” Kirishima stammered. “We’re seriously not going to go around taking turns discussing that. Just get to the point or else I’m leaving.”
“Fine. We can’t continue the way we are right now, by needlessly antagonizing each other. Because it’s making us overlook who we really care about. Do we honestly want a repeat of what happened at joint training?” To Deku’s surprise, Kirishima’s guilty expression matched his.
“We all let it get out of hand.” Todoroki looked around at them, daring any of them to argue. “So let’s be honest with each other, right here, right now, put aside these negative feelings and move on. Kirishima, you start. Say what you’ve always wanted to say to Midoriya.”
“That day,” the redhead immediately said, bared teeth glinting. “Why did he hit you with a chair?”
“Are you sure you wanna hear the reason?” Deku replied.
“Yes.”
“I put my dick in his mou—”
“I’ll fucking kill you.” Kirishima made a few threatening steps forward before Todoroki froze his feet to the floor. “You kept telling me not to hurt him, and yet you went and did this—”
“You’re one to talk!” Deku yelled back. “You’re the one who went Unbreakable—"
“And he was fine the next day, wasn’t he? What excuse do you fucking have?!”
“I was just providing Kacchan what you couldn’t! I did what was best for him, giving him what he deserved! Without me, he would’ve been left wanting more—”
“How dare you?!” Kirishima roared, breaking free of the icy restraints on his feet. Cursing, Todoroki put up a new batch to hold him off. “How dare you pretend to be my friend and then pull that shit—!”
“Come off it, Midoriya.” Todoroki turned to face him. His face was twisted into an ugly snarl. It didn’t suit him. “Bakugo never asked you for more. He’s been saying no to you from the start! You just don’t listen, and you wonder why he hates you?!”
Black whip slithered out, latching onto Todoroki's wrist and dragging him closer. Unlike Deku, Kirishima clearly bore Todoroki no ill will, because he immediately grabbed Todoroki’s other arm in a pseudo tug-of-war.
“Everyone calm down!” Todoroki burst out, severing Deku’s whip with a single well-placed flame. He huffed in annoyance, as Deku continued his stare down with Kirishima. They might've been friends at one point, yes, but Kirishima didn’t have Kacchan’s best interests in heart. He didn't know Kacchan like Deku did.
“Bakugo’s quirk isn’t working right," Todoroki said. It was enough to throw them both off their game, and they cast him twin looks of confusion. “He’s perpetually dry and unable to sweat. He has no means of defending himself, but his condition didn’t seem surprising at all to him, though, and he won’t tell me why.”
“But he wasn’t like that with me,” Deku insisted.
Todoroki unexpectedly rounded on him, jabbing a finger in his chest.
“Shut up, Midoriya. You’re not the only one who’s concerned about Bakugo, so stop pretending he’s strictly yours to take care of. Don’t forget that he came to my bed.”
“Fine,” Deku bit out, against his better judgement. He was overflowing with fury, feeling it right down to his veins. Black whip was pulsing, out of sight, and he was barely managing to reign it in.
“I… I do realize this needs to stop,” he said, with forced calmness. “I know we’ve all betrayed each other—”
“Actually, you betrayed me.” Todoroki said, matter-of-factly. “When you cheated on me with Bakugo.”
“Er, yes, but that’s beside the—”
“Who happened to be my boyfriend, which you were damn well aware of.” Kirishima said flatly.
“Right. Okay. Yeah. It’s good to establish these facts, but really, what’s more important right now…” The two gave him bemused looks, but he stood tall under their withering gazes. “…Like you said, is Kacchan’s safety. Both of you need to stay away from him.”
“Unbelievable,” Kirishima said, throwing up his hands. “Yeah, so what – you can make a move? Fuck, there’s no talking to this guy. I’m outta here.”
He pulled his foot free of Todoroki’s ice and stomped out of the room.
“Wait! I wasn’t done,” Deku said weakly.
“Midoriya.” Todoroki swung his backpack over his shoulder more violently than necessary. “You really can’t control yourself, huh?” And he left the room as well, leaving Deku trembling, surrounded by bits of ice.
They were being unfair. As if it wasn't bad enough that he had lost Kacchan, strangers had made it a point to give him dirty looks, muttering comments under their breath about him breaking 'precious Todoroki's' heart. And now Todoroki and Kirishima were adding to the pile-on.
He’d done a pretty brilliant job of controlling himself, actually, considering all that had happened. Since he’d walked in on his ex-boyfriend and Kacchan, he’d managed to resist Black Whip’s call to end Todoroki.
Though it was getting more difficult with each passing day.
--
[I am here! (in Japan!)]
The text message read.
All Might’s arrival was perfectly timed. Deku wanted—no, needed to talk to him about all this, and he had resolved to do it with Kacchan present as well. They would be able to hold a meeting in All Might’s office right before the End of Year program.
There was just one problem:
Kacchan went missing that morning.
Notes:
Notes:
-Annnnd this is really embarrassing, but I miscalculated my chapter number AGAIN. This was supposed to be a collective chapter with 1-A (feat. our three boys), but I eventually realized it was getting overly-long once more, so I had to split the chapter into two. I apologize as this ended up being a really talk-y chapter, but think of it as the calm before the storm. I hope the next one makes up for it.
-So, for real this time: we're going to 1-A next chapter, but our boys will naturally get a bit more focus than the rest.
-Will we find out who Bakugo's kidnapper is? Will Class 1-A finally catch a break? Will Kiri/Todo/Deku ever set aside their differences and get along? Stay tuned!
Chapter 10: 1-A Didn't Start The Fire
Summary:
1-A lose their shit and then get their shit together.
Notes:
Your comments have kept me going and I wouldn’t have continued updating this fast without your never-ending support and encouragement! I appreciate all the thought-provoking and inspiring words. I apologize once again for not being as interactive, but I’ve been saving all my free time to finish this chapter asap.
Thank you to:
PastaPotatoes, Uniqve1106, Bear hugs, DarkqueenKat, TsukisaurioRex, saekoarmy, JiHan_Minsungie, jasal23, Chifu, karsofantastic, heartsinhay, screamingbees, Chibinatalia, mimisnusnu, HK44, SpiffyCo, Glaxeelk, LarkaRavenWolf, whitehairedikemen, Itz_dreidel, Olive_bnha, tsubasahana (PhyllisCake), RinFar, kusuri, Swag_like_Suga, blueseagull, ImClassPresidentBAKA, RekkaKouyuu, ferries, Ninoo, DolmioPasta, anime_freak_forever_and_ever, KathyBoug, Wolfey, Ovmadns, SM96B, Starkisssu, KimaCat, LineArt, nowiknow;), JeongJiHaa13, Lenka, BakuBB4, SammyCoreo, rina, AnonforTDBK, Ruebell (Ruebell_Uprising), Peer_Gyny, You’reMyNicotine
And as usual, thanks to everyone on Discord and Twitter!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
-----PRELUDE: Aizawa Doesn’t Know-----
“You two,” Aizawa began, sitting back in his chair. “Are the quietest, most observant students in this class. The reason I called you here today is because I want you to tell me everything that is currently going on in 1-A. Every fight, every relationship, every little moment that could potentially explain why Dodgeball ended up being an absolute disaster.”
The friction within their class had been steadily growing since prom, creating a vindictive air wherein hearsay was taken as gospel, and the ever-growing list of interpersonal grudges was tearing apart the very fabric of 1-A. That kind of attitude was expected for normal highschoolers, but for budding heroes? It simply wouldn’t do.
At first, he had tried to weed out the main source of conflict. Was it all really just teenage hormones causing all these disputes or were there deeper issues at play?
By removing Hero training and replacing it with innocuous games, he had been gunning for the students to resolve their issues by themselves. There were only so many times you could force people to talk before they actually caved and actually did it. But he’d also been aware of the possibility that someone would be bound to snap.
Aizawa just hadn’t expected it to be Kirishima, of all people.
Kouda and Shouji traded uncertain looks before returning their attention to him.
“Mmm,” Kouda mumbled, and then cleared his throat before launching into a full-fledged ramble.
“Kaminari and Jirou are dating. I… I like Jirou, and if she’s happy then I’m happy… But she’s not happy. Her and Kaminari fight a lot. Sero and Mina are dating, too. So are Ojiro and Hagakure. So are Todo—well, I don’t know if he’s still dating Midoriya…” He trailed off, looking down guiltily. It was the most Aizawa had ever heard him speak in one sitting.
“And Bakugo?”
At that, the two students traded an even longer look.
Shouji spoke this time.
“Thanks to my quirk, I hear everything,” he said, resignation clear in his voice. “To my understanding, Midoriya and Todoroki were in a relationship. Kirishima and Bakugo were in a secret relationship. Midoriya and Bakugo were in a secret, secret relationship. And I think Todoroki and Bakugo were—are in a secret, secret, secret relationship.”
Upon hearing that, all traces of sleepiness promptly left Aizawa’s face. He was feeling much more alert (and equally unnerved).
“And why has Bakugo decided to pursue not one but three classmates at once? It seems very unlike him.”
“Well, a side effect of Bakugo’s quirk is that he extrudes glycerin everywhere, sir. And, it seems…” Shouji expression remained carefully blank. “That the other three were very… Taken.. By it…”
“By the quirk or by Bakugo?”
“Both, it sounded like.”
“What do you mean by ‘everywhere’…?”
Shouji leaned forward and looked his teacher straight in the eye.
“Every orifice.”
There was a long silence wherein Kouda looked pointedly out of the window, Shouji stared at the bookshelf straight ahead, while Aizawa drummed his fingers against the desk at an increasingly rapid speed.
“Thank you,” he finally said. “You may go now. I would like to request that you not relay any part of this discussion to your classmates.”
They nodded, and departed in silence.
“Oh, Bakugo…” Aizawa sighed to an empty room. He was absently thumbing the sides of his face, fingers brushing against the ridge of his scar.
“What on earth are you trying to prove this time?”
-----1-A-----
“How could we possibly be incomplete? The program is in thirty minutes! Do you guys want to sink our reputation even more?”
Iida looked apoplectic, pacing and brandishing the class list at anyone who so much as glanced in his direction.
“Why do you still have that thing?” Mina was lying up against the arm of the couch, craning her head back to look at him upside down. “The school year’s almost over and as class rep, shouldn’t you know your own classmates by now?”
Iida did an about-face and held out his rolled up paper like a sword, nearly poking Mina in the nose with it.
“Historical gap is created due to missing written records!” He chanted, causing the other girls on the couch to burst into giggles.
“What’s historical about this?” Sero muttered.
“That’s it! Count-off, everyone!”
Iida’s order was met with a resounding groan.
“We already know who’s missing,” Uraraka spoke with an unusual air of impatience. “No one’s seen Bakugo.”
“He could be…” Kaminari began, but shrank from the death glares aimed at him. “Training! I was going to say training!”
“Satou’s missing, too,” Yaoyorozu pointed out.
“Dude, don’t tell me they’re—” Sero’s swollen eyes bugged out even further, but Satou burst in, promptly ending all speculation.
“I’m here, I’m here!”
He had a grocery bag in one arm, which wasn’t an unusual sight. What was, however, was the woman clutching his other arm, whose proportions would’ve made Mineta faint on the spot.
“Sorry, just ducked into the supermarket to buy flour. But you’ll never guess who I met…”
The woman was chattering in non-Japanese, her perfectly-penciled eyebrows drawn into a pucker as she held up a phone. Its edges were wrapped in a rubber casing, but its screen was cracked down the middle.
“I can’t understand what she’s trying to say, but I think she recognized my uniform and she kept mentioning his name, so…”
“Whose name?” Iida asked.
“Ma chérie!”
Aoyama leapt from the crowd, flying into the woman’s arms.
“A-o-yama!”
“She’s REAL?!” Kaminari said in a high-pitched squeal.
“Of course!” Aoyama paused in the midst of their fateful reunion to glare around at the class. “Oh, salut, ma chérie, you finally visited!”
The two blonds were wrapped up in each other’s arms and quickly reaching levels of PDA that had almost everyone averting their gazes.
“That is so unfair,” Sero said in awe, one of the remaining few who stared straight at them. His comment caused Mina to flick him on the nose.
“So if it’s a pretty girl you can suddenly see perfectly well, huh?” Mina muttered over his whimper of pain.
“Oh, but what’s this?” Aoyama, his face now smeared with lipstick, looked sufficiently dazed. He had finally noticed the object in her hand. “Why do you have a broken phone?”
They traded conversation in French for a few minutes.
“Taken? Who?” Aoyama asked, pursing his lips.
“Wait a minute, that’s – that’s Katsuki’s phone,” Kirishima said, making his way to the front. “What happened?!”
Aoyama repeated the question in French. She took a deep breath, and spoke rapidly, with Aoyama translating on the fly.
“She saw him, a very angry boy, and tried asking for directions to UA, but he brushed her off and – oh, merde – then someone came out of a van, and took him away. They dropped his phone in the gutter as they left.”
She patted Satou a few times, still speaking at a breakneck speed. Her head movements were so sudden that the glittering earrings framing her face clinked noisily.
“…And then she saw another UA student coming out of the supermarket. But she doesn’t know,” Aoyama said, expression mirroring her face of despair. “She doesn’t know where Bakugo has been taken.”
There was a lengthy silence as 1-A digested this news.
“So Bakugo’s been kidnapped? Again? Who the hell would do this?” Kaminari asked, as Kirishima wordlessly collapsed on the sofa beside him, face hollow and pale. Mina rushed to his side, a comforting hand resting on his shoulder.
Another uncomfortable stillness washed over the class as they all realized the same thing: taking into account how Bakugo had been treated as of late, there was a frightening amount of people in UA alone who would immediately qualify as suspects.
“Check his phone,” Midoriya suggested.
Aoyama jumped, agitated by how Midoriya had come up behind him, eyes blazing with intensity.
Midoriya didn’t speak as Aoyama placed Bakugo’s phone in his open palm. He switched it on, and Satou, who was looking over his shoulder, grimaced as several chimes sounded with the arrival of new messages.
“What the hell,” Satou said. “Why would— who’s sending him that crap? ‘Cause that’s just… Evil.”
“You didn’t know?” Uraraka cut in. “He showed me one of the messages once and I wanted to throw up. They’re gross, I don’t even know how they got his number.”
“Poor Bakugo can’t catch a break.” Kaminari sighed, causing Jirou to scoff loudly.
“And who do we have to thank for that? You haven’t exactly been defending him, you’ve just been helping fan the flames!”
“Excuse me, how is it my fault he got kidnapped?”
“This is the last one he read,” Midoriya said, interrupting the oncoming squabble, and everyone fell quiet. “Someone tried to blackmail him and he was supposed to meet them at the café outside school. Aoyama, can you ask her to describe what the kidnapper looked like?”
He did so, and she raised her hand and leveled it somewhere above Aoyama’s head, indicating someone of tall height. Then her eyes landed on Midoriya, and she pointed at him, her tone accusatory.
“Me?! What?” Midoriya said, backing up. “I didn’t—!"
“No, no, she is saying he looked like you, only taller. Around the same age. No freckles, and… Much more handsome.”
Aoyama was met with matching expressions of confusion. As far as they knew, Midoriya had no relatives who looked remotely like him. That description could’ve easily fit anyone—
“FUCK,” a voice said from somewhere behind the throng of students.
The crowd parted, unveiling Todoroki sitting on one of the farther couches. It wasn’t like him to swear, or even raise his voice, so his reaction had been perturbing. He had been quiet up until his one-word outburst, and now had his head in his hands.
“What have I done?”
--
“The moment the teachers are mobilized, the End of Year program’ll be canceled, Kacchan will end up making headlines again, and the last thing he needs is more negative attention. We need to finalize the situation first and not jump to conclusions. It might be better if we search for Kacchan ourselves—"
“They took his phone, what other options do we have?” Kirishima snapped, interrupting Midoriya’s mumbling session. The rest of the class watched with bated breath, fearing another violent confrontation between the two. But the redhead hastily schooled his features. “At least with Kamino, Yaomomo stuck a tracker on that Nomu.”
“Too bad she didn’t stick a tracker on Bakugo,” Sero said.
Yaoyorozu gasped. “I might have!”
She covered her mouth and blushed as everyone’s gazes landed on her. “I mean, not on purpose, but we did give him a belt. The buckle is made from an alloy that is quite rare and difficult to procure.” Knocking on her head with her fist, she let out a noise of frustration. “If we had a device to detect that alloy… But I can’t create something that complex…”
At that, Iida thrust his arm up in the air.
“May I volunteer some information that could be useful? I know someone who can!”
“Hatsume!” Everyone yelled.
“I was going to say her name!”
One phone call later, Hatsume was standing in their living room.
“I can do it in my sleep,” she said, grinning madly (“You’re amazing, Hatsume!” Iida swooned, breathless despite not having run at all that day.) “But! I need a sample of that alloy, or else how will the machine know what to detect?”
“It took days for it to arrive,” Yaoyorozu said mournfully. “The only sample I had went to Bakugo’s belt.”
“Uh, mes amies,” Aoyama jumped in. “This alloy is made in France, yes?” At Yaoyorozu’s nod, he gestured to his girlfriend’s dangling earrings, and after a brief conversation, she presented one to Hatsume.
“Voila! Who knew ma petite amie would be such a game-changer?” He laughed, before staring off like he always did into an unseen camera.
“Thanks, Aoyama,” Midoriya said. “So, Iida, you can accompany Hatsume as she builds the detector.”
“But the End of Year program!” Iida protested.
“The End of Year program is going to be delayed, we’ll make sure of that,” Midoriya replied, with such finality that it left no room for argument. “I have an idea as to how. But we’re going to need one more person’s help to do it.”
“Who?”
“Shinsou.”
--
Huddled together around the corner of a certain UA hallway, two figures watched Midnight finish the last round of her patrol.
“You know it’s about time, right? You’d been putting it off for way too long.”
“I thought it would happen one way or another… But not like this.”
Facing each other, both of them exhaled deeply.
And then Mina hit Sero with a faceful of acid.
His shriek of pain was real, and so were the steaming wounds that appeared on his cheeks, across the bridge of his nose, and on his chin. The pus that had been steadily collecting there burst out as Sero stumbled around the corner and right into Midnight’s arms.
“Help! Midnight, help me!”
“Sero?”
She dropped her cat o’ nine tails to catch him. As they sank to the floor, Sero clutched at her, wailing.
“It hurts! My face, it burns!”
“How did this happen? Who did this to you?”
“I did, Ma’am,” Mina said, popping out with an almost-smile.
“T-too… Much… Face-sitting…” Sero moaned. As more exudate streamed out of his wounds, Midnight physically recoiled. But she couldn’t extract herself from Sero’s grip, so she cradled his head and looked solemnly up at Mina instead.
“Mina, go to the fifth floor. Hurry.”
“But the program—” Mina said, cocking her head, her expression suspiciously doe-eyed.
“We can get to that later! Get Recovery Girl!”
“Ughhh,” Sero said, writhing on the floor.
“Quickly! This boy needs medical attention! And a goddamn medal!”
--
“Are you sure you can do this?” Shouji asked Kouda, who nodded hesitantly. They could see Present Mic pacing in the courtyard, occasionally checking his watch and practicing his opening lines for the program.
At one point, he lifted his head to look around, to which the two ducked down lower behind the bush. Kouda bent into a crouch, face only a few inches from the ground as he patted it and appeared to be comforting the very earth itself.
What followed was a familiar sight, one they had both seen before: a variety of bugs sprang from the ground at Present Mic’s feet, twisting and clawing their way up his legs. The pro-hero’s shriek reached ear-piercing decibels and Shouji winced.
"Lately, I’ve heard a lot of things I regret hearing,” Shouji mused out loud, while Kouda made doleful noises beside him. “But, he’s remained the only person who ever made me wish I was deaf.”
“S-sorry, sir,” Kouda said quietly, bowing his head as Present Mic’s screams continued to echo throughout the school grounds.
--
“Ojiro! Explain!”
Vlad King was turning purple in the face as he surveyed the scene before him. He had decided to perform a final check on the 1-B dorms, having assured himself that he would not find any stragglers – his class was a responsible bunch, unlike the delinquents of 1-A – but he was absolutely dismayed to be confronted with this:
Reiko, still in her room.
And Ojiro was with her.
They were sitting cross-legged on the bed, a huge pile of stamps in between them when Vlad King barged in and was filled with rage at the sight. It was bad enough to have gone after one of his favorite students, Monoma, but now it seemed Class 1-A would not spare even the sweetest student in 1-B! When would their tyranny end?
“I’m here too, sir!” A familiar voice burst out, which infuriated Vlad King even more.
“I should’ve known,” he said, glaring at the spot where he presumed Hagakure was. “I would’ve expected this from you, Hagakure, but Ojiro too? For shame. He used to be such a good student—”
“Eh? Why’d you immediately assume that she’s been a bad influence on me?” Ojiro protested. “When it could’ve been the other way around?”
“What about me, sir?” Reiko said, but Vlad King merely continued his diatribe against Hagakure.
“Miss Hagakure, you’re already on thin ice. There’ve been reports of a small figure streaking on school grounds, and it couldn’t have been Mirio, so it was clearly—"
“Question, if someone saw them, then how could it have been Hagakure?” Ojiro asked.
Vlad King sputtered.
“Don’t make me punish you! Aizawa may be soft but I am most certainly not!”
He had thought Ojiro as one of the good ones, but clearly had been wrong. The boy now wore a wicked grin that didn’t suit his unextraordinary face.
“Punish us for what? Trading stamps?” He said.
“Yeah, for what?” Hagakure added.
Vlad King nearly burst a blood vessel then and there.
“You’ve been caught fraternizing instead of attending the End of Year program! While naked! Have some decency!”
“What about me, sir?” Reiko repeated.
“Fine,” Hagakure said, and plucked three stamps from the bed.
They hovered in the air, before she deliberately stuck them to three specific parts of her body: two were on her chest, one somewhere in between her legs, and the positioning had Ojiro bursting into laughter and Reiko cracking a timid smile.
“There, covered up enough for you?” Hagakure said sweetly, wiggling her body for emphasis.
“NO! This level of degeneracy is entirely unacceptable!”
“Sir,” Reiko sighed. “I think you need to calm down.”
With a wave of her fingers, the rest of the stamps rose from the bed. More flew out of the drawers as they all zoomed straight for Vlad King, gluing themselves in layers upon layers all over his body. He attempted to bat them away, like they were insects, but there were too many of them, and soon Vlad King’s face and body were completely obscured by paper.
“What the--? REIKO!”
The three sidestepped Vlad King’s thrashing body and left the room, running as fast as they could. They couldn’t help but laugh as they realized the situation they were in.
“Thanks for that, Reiko! I didn’t think you’d help us, but you’re actually kinda cool!” Hagakure said, her invisible hand clasped in Ojiro’s.
“Don’t worry about it,” Reiko said, keeping pace behind them. “We’re not all just Monoma’s lackeys, you know.”
--
Deku sat quietly, jiggling one leg. All Might was taking ages to finish sipping his tea before speaking, and the agony of waiting caused his anxiety to spike.
They were in All Might’s office, and a lot of the memories were still fresh in his mind. He hoped All Might wouldn’t notice his blush. The pro-hero was seated on the couch… The very couch where he and Kacchan…
Nope, nope, nope!
Deku squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, the world was temporarily blurry before All Might’s gaunt face swam back into view.
All Might had asked why Kacchan didn’t come to the meeting. He looked disappointed as he did, and Deku had to make up some lie about Kacchan refusing— which perplexed All Might.
“But based on what Bakugo told me over the phone back then, I would’ve thought he’d insist on being here.”
Over the phone?
Back then?!
His heart began to pound. Kacchan had called All Might all the way in America…?
But how much had he told?
The interrogation replayed in Deku’s mind, alongside scenes from the locker room, and Deku’s fists clenched. His palms were soaked in sweat.
All Might looked grave. He. Wasn’t. Smiling! And that was what terrified Deku most of all.
“What did Kacchan tell you…?”
“Enough,” All Might said vaguely. Deku wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
“Are you mad at me?” He asked slowly, distinctly aware that he sounded like a child.
So All Might knew what he’d done to Kacchan… What he’d misused One for All to do. Maybe he was going to take it back? But it couldn’t be now, not when Deku needed to save Kacchan.
Not as he had just begun to set things right.
“Your lack of control is nothing to be ashamed of. But we both know this cannot happen again. So here is what we can do.”
And as All Might spoke of his plan, Deku was filled with a mixture of relief and disappointment.
“Kacchan didn’t tell you anything more about how it happened…?” He asked when All Might was done. The clock on the wall ticked ominously. It was still far too soon to end the meeting.
“No, nothing else,” All Might said. “He sounded more worried about you. As expected, he brushed off all my questions I had about his well-being. But we can discuss this further after the program, Midoriya. Shall we go to the auditorium together?”
All Might was gathering his things. Watching him get ready to leave the room filled Deku with panic. He needed to clarify some more things with All Might, needed to make sense of what was happening to him, needed to drop to his knees and say sorry and beg to give his quirk back before it ate him and everyone he loved alive, needed to save Kacchan—
But more than anything? He needed to stall.
“All Might! I can’t let you leave this room!” He yelled, rushing over to block the door with his entire body.
“And why is that, young Midoriya?”
He needed to start telling the truth.
“…Because I fucked Kacchan on that couch while you were away!”
“M-Midoriya!” All Might gasped, hand scrabbling at his chest.
It wasn’t much (or was it too much?) but it was a start.
--
Kirishima’s hands were shaking with anger as another ping came from the phone held in his grip.
More messages:
[Can’t stop thinking about your tits and ass jiggling as I bounce you on my cock]
[my friend said she saw you getting railed behind a 7/11… I said that’s impossible, that’s way too high class for a cheap whore like you…]
“I didn’t know this was still going on,” he admitted, leaning the screen toward Todoroki to let him see.
“That just seems uncalled for,” Todoroki said after reading it, and the conversation lapsed into a sullen silence.
The two were the only ones left in Heights Alliance, while most of their classmates had gone to distract the other teachers.
It just so happened that their target had yet to arrive.
“Kirishima, what are your intentions toward Bakugo?” Todoroki said, without preamble.
The redhead scrutinized him for one long moment before laughing in disbelief.
“You know, no one’s asked me that question seriously. And no offense, but you’re the last person I’d wanna tell the answer to.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“Well… Everything’s happened too fast for me to keep up with.” Kirishima cradled Bakugo’s phone in his lap, as if it were a baby bird. He looked almost wistful, evidently recalling happier times. “You know how many times I’ve talked to Katsuki since everything went to shit? Once.”
“Then be there for him now,” Todoroki replied. “Isn’t that what you said to Midoriya before Kamino? Stop using your confusion as an excuse. Bakugo needs a best friend, and if you won’t step up to the plate, someone else will.”
Kirishima’s eyes narrowed at him, but Todoroki stubbornly stared back.
“A friend, huh?”
“Yes, and we can—” Bakugo’s phone lit up with the arrival of another vulgar text, surprising both of them. Kirishima made a digusted noise before deleting it, and Todoroki continued. “We can figure out the rest later.”
“And what if Midoriya isn’t content with Katsuki having more than one friend?”
Todoroki looked up at the ceiling, eyebrows furrowed in thought.
“Midoriya is strange. He’s perfectly nice otherwise, but get between him and Bakugo and he changes into someone completely different. But ultimately the choice isn’t up to him. It’s up to—”
“Katsuki,” Kirishima finished for him.
“Yes.”
“Todoroki, when we get him back…” Kirishima paused, but his face had lit up. For the first time in a while he resembled his old self, boisterous and confident. “And we will get him back. But when we do, I think I’m going to—”
“Oi. You two.”
Aizawa was at the door, arms folded across his chest. “I’m not in the mood to break up a fight today.”
“We’re not fighting. We were actually waiting for you,” Todoroki said.
The teacher cocked one eyebrow.
“And where is everyone else?”
“Not here,” Kirishima answered, with a wave of his hand.
“I’m supposed to escort my whole class to the program. Would you kindly explain why my whole class seems to now only consist of two people?”
Met with nothing but stony silence, Aizawa groaned.
“I really don’t have time for this—”
“Actually, you do. Please sit, sir.”
Aizawa’s glare would have terrified the less obstinate members of their class, but Todoroki and Kirishima held their ground, not moving from their places on the couch.
“I’ll give you thirty seconds,” he conceded.
“Actually, we’re going to have to stay here for a while,” Kirishima said with a sheepish grin.
“Explain.”
“You told us to communicate better. Well, Class 1-A is sending a message, loud and clear.”
“And since we’re on the topic of communication, there’s something I wanted to say on behalf of the girls in the class,” Todoroki said.
Aizawa begrudgingly sat down across the coffee table from them.
“Sir, If it’s okay to ask… Why didn’t you do anything about Mineta's antics until Bakugo happened to be the target?”
--
The auditorium was jam-packed, people hardly able to take two steps without bumping into somebody else.
“Where are they? Everyone’s getting antsy.” Kaminari hopped from foot to foot, struggling to avoid being jostled by the crowd. The students around him were growing restless, complaints bouncing back and forth about how the program was supposed to have started already.
“Where are the teachers?” Someone whispered to their neighbor.
Jirou tugged on Kaminari’s sleeve, and when he lowered to his head to acknowledge her, she bit her lip, before saying in one breath:
“Kaminari, I’m thinking we should break up.”
“Huh?” His mouth formed an ‘O’ shape, before morphing into a smile. “Oh, yeah, I’ve felt the same way for a while. Sure then, thanks for saving me the trouble.”
He turned away, only for Jirou to poke him hard on the shoulder with her earjack.
“Ow!”
“You’re over it, just like that?!” She said, huffing.
“Well, yeah, what did you expect?”
Before they could proceed to settle the terms of their break-up, voices near them grew louder, as people started pushing their way through the crowd to get to the exit.
“Is it gonna happen sometime this century or what?”
“Let’s get outta here. We came, didn’t we? Not our faults they didn’t start on time.”
“Woah, not good!” Kaminari said. “If people start leaving, then our plan is going to fail.”
“Kaminari, for goodness’ sake, I just broke up with you! Could you at least pretend to be torn up about it?”
“Why should I? We both wanted it.”
“This is boring. Nothing’s happening,” a nearby student whined.
Jirou’s yell suddenly broke through the crowd.
“Kaminari, I can’t believe you cheated on me with Satou!”
Heads swiveled around to watch, and the people standing next to Jirou backed away in alarm.
“Why couldn’t your keep your electric, average-sized dick in your pants?!” She cried out, stomping her foot.
“My dick isn’t just average-sized— Wait, what? No, I didn’t!”
As Kaminari fervently denied the accusation, Satou stepped forward with a grim look on his face.
“It’s true. I slept with him.”
“Hey, hey, woah, what are you—”
“It’s true that Kaminari and I have been having an affair behind your back, Jirou. And what’s worse is… This whole time, I was dating Tokoyami as well, so Kaminari is both a cheater and a homewrecker.”
“WHAT?” Kaminari said. “Seriously, you and Toko—?” And then upon realizing the heat being piled onto him, his voice heightened into squeaks. “I mean hell no, y-you and me definitely never— I'm not—”
“I can verify this,” Tokoyami added solemnly. “And as devastated as I am by that news, Satou, I have to confess… I have been sleeping with Kaminari as well.”
The scene continued to escalate, the crowd around them rumbling in anticipation.
“No way!”
Jirou gasped very loudly and pointed an accusing finger at her now ex-boyfriend. “Kaminari, how could you?”
“None of that’s true!” Kaminari hissed, resembling a cornered animal. “I have no idea what they’re—"
“Excusez-moi, don’t forget about the night you spent with me!” Aoyama chirped, greeting Kaminari with his arms outstretched.
“Me too,” Tsuyu said.
Other students were chiming in to provide their own input. One particularly loud voice in the crowd yelled “So is everyone in 1-A a raging slut or what?!”
“Nope, just the blonds, apparently,” Jirou quipped.
“J-JIROU!”
Betrayal flashed across Kaminari’s face, made all the more pitiful by his quivering lip.
“Don’t worry, Kaminari, it won’t matter in a sec—” Jirou muttered in her ear as she drew him close. At the same time, the crowd had been stirred into a frenzy by their antics. Once again, complete strangers were accosting them with come-ons.
“Sign me up for the hero course!”
“Jirou, let me comfort you!”
Just then, every light in the auditorium shut off. This was it. The members of 1-A in the crowd breathed a collective sigh of relief.
“And now for the real show to begin,” Tokoyami said in his usual foreboding manner.
--
Up in the control booth, Shinsou had his voice changer on, and after a sharp inhale through his nose, he brought the microphone to his face.
“Yo, yo, yo, are you all ready to go, listeners?!” He said, in a perfect imitation of Present Mic’s voice.
“He’s good,” Uraraka whispered to Yaoyorozu.
“Shh, don’t talk,” Yaoyorozu said in return.
They settled for watching Shinsou in action as, despite maintaining his dead-eyed expression, his rapid-fire, echoing speech emanated from every speaker in the auditorium.
“I’d like to apologize for the delay as we were having some technical difficulties, but now that I’m here, we can get this show on the road! Before I begin, let’s get those energy levels up and UP! So will everyone join me in reciting our school motto?”
There was a smattering of unenthusiastic “Plus ultra’s”.
“Plus u—” Kaminari said, before Jirou clamped a hand over his mouth.
“Shut up!”
Shinsou tried again.
“I won’t move on to the next part of our program until I get everyone to say it with me! Again: WHAT’S OUR MOTTO?”
Everyone repeated, louder this time around:
“PLUS ULTRA!”
Shinsou promptly switched off his device and brought the microphone closer to his lips. He began speaking in his own voice.
“Great job, everyone. Now forget everything you’ve learned this past week about Class 1-A.”
--
“What took you so long?!” Midoriya appeared ready to tear his hair out when the Auditorium Group arrived back at the dorms, the second-to-the-last group to do so. Uraraka puffed out her cheeks angrily.
“Unless you yourself managed to create a lockpick kit from your own skin to break into a room despite not having any lockpick experience whatsoever, then you don’t have the right to ask that question, Deku!”
“R-right, sorry Uraraka,” Midoriya said, getting hold of himself. “You know how I get…”
“Still no excuse, but apology accepted. Yes, we get it. It’s Bakugo. We’re worried too, aren’t we?”
Everyone nodded, contemplating the same guilt-ridden thought: that maybe Bakugo wouldn’t have gone alone if he hadn’t been singled out and isolated by the class.
“Iida’s taking a while,” Todoroki said, irritation coming off him in waves. Standing beside him were Aoyama and Ojiro, who backed away, having recalled the last time he produced a Titanic-sized glacier.
“I’ve got the coordinates!”
Iida crashed through the door, his legs smoking. Attached to his back was a madly giggling Hatsume. Both of them looked rumpled (Hatsume, moreso than usual). Iida, especially, due to the grime smeared on his cheek, while his hair smelled strongly of petrol, which the rest chose not to question.
“Thanks, Iida. Yaoyorozu, everyone!” Midoriya beamed at his classmates, after they were done cheering. “It’ll be better if you head back to the program before they start noticing how many of us are gone. I’m going to—”
“I’m coming with,” Kirishima said. “Don’t you dare stop me, ‘cause I’m not going to waste any more time arguing.”
“Fine,” Midoriya immediately agreed, to the surprise of his classmates. “Then let’s talk in private. We need a plan for dealing with Shindou.”
-----Shinsou Catches A Break-----
A or B?
A… or B?
Admittedly, it was quite the enviable dilemma. No one else in school had to contend with this unique problem. Yes, he was certainly glad for the opportunity, yadda yadda, and would honestly do Aizawa’s laundry for the rest of his life if he could, but…
Torn between ending up in 2-A or 2-B next year, he knew it would be a life decision that would reverberate throughout his entire hero career. And that sort of pressure was maddening.
The obvious choice would be 1-A. They had unparalleled combat experience and for whatever reason, were often at the forefront of the biggest hero-related incidents as of late. There was no doubt they would serve as useful contacts, bound to fill up the top ten roster in the near future.
They also happened to all be nutcases.
Whereas 1-B had been way more welcoming and grounded, all throughout his observation period, he’d unfortunately witnessed 1-A at their very worst. Backstabbing, betrayal, infidelity… They were all so damn shallow, too busy chasing ass to appreciate being the premiere hero class of UA.
And that would be exhausting to have to deal with on a daily basis. Plus, if he chose Aizawa’s class (and by extension, Aizawa himself), he was inviting all sorts of allusions as a teacher’s pet.
But, barring the Aizawa part of it all, wasn’t that what the real world was like? Ugly, messy, and rife with conflict? Wouldn’t he be better off dealing with those sorts of problems early on, to prepare him for what was he was bound to encounter in his future career?
Although 1-B was far more stable, it was obvious that Monoma had made it a personal mission to recruit Hitoshi. His first inkling of it came when they’d thrown him a pre-emptive welcome party, their smiles wide, almost artificially so. And Monoma wasn’t… Too bad, in retrospect. He was reasonable, clever. But whenever 1-A was involved, he seemed to lose his shit.
Monoma had never asked to borrow his quirk, which Hitoshi had noted and appreciated.
That is, until the soiree with 1-A.
And when he finally did, he did it for the sole purpose of humiliating Bakugo Katsuki. Using his quirk to hurt people, in Hitoshi’s opinion, was the lowest of the low.
So Bakugo stormed out, and even though his three little worker drones immediately scrambled to avenge their queen bee, it hadn’t been Midoriya, or Kirishima or Todoroki (or the designated Monoma-wrangler, Kendou) who had managed to get to Monoma first – it was Hitoshi, who punched him so hard he crashed to the floor.
“I’ve spent my whole life gaining people’s trust despite my quirk,” he said, sending a venomous glare down at the curled up form of Monoma. “You had it for five minutes and abused it in the way people fear most.”
It was, he’d been quite proud to say, his first heroic act, which felt satisfying on a personal level, and despite the ruined night, Hitoshi had made sure that Monoma wouldn’t ever do such a thing again. But then…
Apparently, you couldn’t just clock someone in the face and call it a day. There was more to hero-ing than punching people, and Hitoshi found that out the hard way the next morning, when someone dropped a copy of Quirk Sex into his hands.
Staring up at him was proof that his act of heroism… Had been nothing more than mindless violence. It hadn’t changed anything at all.
“You sure you wanna join that circus of freaks, Shinsou?” One of his General Studies classmates sniggered, elbowing him.
“At least the orgies’ll be top-notch,” said another.
“Yeah, don’t be a stranger, alright? You better report back on what Bakugo’s ass tastes like.”
“Hey,” he’d said loudly. “Knock it off!” He hadn’t meant it as a quirk-induced order but the viciousness of his tone was enough to get them to shut up.
In a way, he understood why Bakugo had become something of a rockstar at UA, the ratio between love and hate toward him impossible to discern. There was something addicting about poking and prodding Bakugo until he blew up. To Hitoshi, he was like a rampaging puppy, wherein sometimes it would annoy this shit out of you but you had the natural urge to protect it.
But it’s not like he wanted to fuck Bakugo or anything. He was staying far, far away from that mess.
A decision he now found to be quite ironic, because he was currently outside eavesdropping on members of Bakugo’s Bum Appreciation Squad as they sniped back and forth at each other. He knew exactly what he needed to do.
“Listen,” Midoriya was saying. “I have a plan.”
“Okay, spit it out, then. And it better not be another ‘fuck my boyfriend and brag about it to my face under the guise of fucking someone else’ kind of plan this time, got it?” Kirishima said, causing Todoroki to raise a hand in warning.
“Kirishima, wait. Let’s hear him out.”
Midoriya, who already seemed displeased at the notion of teaming up with Kirishima, looked even more agonized that Todoroki had immediately turned it into a three-way conversation.
“Todoroki, we’re not forcing you to help, so—”
“Actually, I think I have the right to be here. I also slept with Bakugo, remember? So I understand more than anyone else why you two are so obsessed with him.”
“Obsessed?!” Kirishima and Midoriya said together, before sharing an awkward look.
“…So when you had sex with him,” Todoroki said. “Did he do that thing where—”
“Guys,” Midoriya interrupted, massaging his brows. “Please. Kacchan needs us.”
“Some of us more than others,” Kirishima muttered.
“You two need to promise you won’t fight again.” Todoroki looked between them both, resigned to his role as mediator. “We can’t be torn apart by internal conflict. Aoyama’s girlfriend said Shindou wasn’t alone when he took Bakugo.”
“I’m willing to call a truce,” the redhead conceded. “No mention of any history with Katsuki, alright? We get in, get him back, then get out.”
“I… Fine,” Midoriya agreed.
Todoroki gave a curt nod. “Great.”
Now that they’d put their emotional baggage aside for the time being, it was safe to reveal himself.
“I’m coming with you,” Hitoshi said, as he promptly joined their little circle.
“Shinsou?!”
“Look, no offense, but if they’re expecting anyone to try and rescue him, it’s obvious it’s gonna be you three. I may not be part of your creepy Bakugo-worshipping cult, but you need a wild card. Someone they won’t expect. And that’s me.”
Plus, someone would need to keep them from killing each other. And it would be nice for him to get some overdue hero experience. He had a lot to catch up on.
Win-win.
The tension between the three did not melt away with Hitoshi’s presence. It was even more awkward now, Hitoshi found, as they used him as a wall between them. The cab ride being a prime example: Kirishima sat in front, and the three of them squeezed into the backseat, Shinsou serving as a physical buffer between Todoroki and Midoriya.
Everyone sat in brooding silence. He supposed it was still better than listening to them fight over Bakugo’s panties.
“We need a system to fight back in case the enemy has a quirk similar to mine,” Hitoshi said, over the airconditioner-sounding lull. From the rearview mirror, he could see Kirishima’s eyeroll.
“What do you mean? All we need is to walk in there and kick ass, no words needed.” Clearly, Bakugo had been rubbing off on him too much.
“You mean in case someone has a quirk that interferes with our thinking?” Midoriya asked. Hitoshi nodded.
“If at any point, a quirk possesses you, or alters your perception of reality, or messes with your mind in any capacity, you guys have to be able to reflexively answer me so I can pull you back from their control. So let’s practice. When I say ‘Listen up’, you say ‘Got it’. Alright?”
They practiced it a few times. “Listen up,” Hitoshi said.
“Got it,” mumbled the other three in varying tones of boredom.
Their destination was on the outskirts of Musutafu. The cab arrived at an abandoned building, that, based on the rusty sign looming overhead, was previously a hospital.
“Guess this Shindou guy’s gone full villain,” Hitoshi commented, peering at the abandoned lair before them. He slipped on his voice changer, and adjusted various knobs and settings. “Now, remember, when I say ‘Listen up’, you—”
“Got it,” the three recited in annoyance.
Kirishima punched the front door open.
Hitoshi felt slightly out of place as the three assumed battle stances in front of him, while he just stood there with what appeared to be a muzzle dangling around his neck. But they ended up looking more ridiculous than he did, because there was nothing untoward greeting them, not a single object untouched or out of place.
It was an empty lobby, with a dust-covered front desk and portraits of the hospital’s founders on the walls.
“It’s gonna take ages to check out every room,” Kirishima groaned.
“Should we split up?” asked Todoroki.
“No, no, that’s what they’d want, I think…” Midoriya’s head swiveled around almost comically, reminding Hitoshi of an owl as he tried to commit everything around him to memory.
They explored the ground floor together, hoping to find clues on Bakugo’s whereabouts, but were met with abandoned rooms left and right.
“Emergency room waiting area,” Todoroki pointed, and they threw open another set of swinging doors. This room was spacious compared to the rest, especially as it had been stripped bare of all its furnishings. Straight ahead were double-doors that normally would’ve led to a back entrance, but they were chained shut.
Hitoshi tried not to let his disappointment show. He’d expected this to be a lot more action-packed, but the experience was turning out to be mind-numbingly tedious. He’d lost track of how many doors they’d opened with a bang. Charging into every room quirks a-blazing had lost its novelty maybe three hallways ago.
“That one leads to the emergency room,” Deku murmured, indicating a separate set of doors to the left.
It felt, in a way, too obvious. Surely Shindou wasn’t stupid enough to hide Bakugo in the ER, rather than stick him in a random ward? Hitoshi briefly wondered if they should even bother looking inside. But the rest were already nodding at each other, quirks switched on (show-offs, Hitoshi thought) as they barreled into the room.
The lights were switched on. Oxygen tanks and other medical equipment littered the floor. A single bed was pressed sideways against the opposite wall.
Bakugo was laying down on it, sprawled on his stomach.
Maintaining a leisurely pose that somehow looked… Off.
His front was pressed against the sheets, from the chest down to his knees, and his feet were raised and rocking back and forth impatiently. His chin was propped up on one elbow, and he was eyeing them with disdain.
He looked more like a bored teenager lounging on a bed, rather than someone who’d been kidnapped and restrained. The only thing missing was a girly magazine.
Even stranger, only one of his wrists was chained, as opposed to the manacles on both his ankles.
…And he was naked. Except for his boots, mask and gloves.
(Bakugo was quite generous in shape, Hitoshi admitted begrudgingly.)
“Where the hell have you been? D’you have any idea how long I waited?” the blond snapped, glowering at them.
“Katsuki!”
Kirishima ran for him, quickly followed by Midoriya and Todoroki, leaving Hitoshi no choice but to walk forward as well. They didn’t seem to care about Bakugo being naked (maybe they were used to it…?), but the whole scene was undoubtedly uncanny.
Wasn’t anyone else noticing this…?
It was freaking him out, that Bakugo didn’t look the least concerned about his nudity or their overall predicament. The blond lifted his head, staring up at them as they crowded around the bed.
Todoroki was barraging him with questions, Midoriya already tugging at the restraints on his legs, grunting in his efforts to break them.
“What are these made of?!”
No matter how brightly Midoriya’s arms glowed with energy, he couldn’t seem to separate the three-way chain that linked Bakugo’s ankles together and to the railings of the bed.
“They won’t budge?” Hitoshi asked warily. Three chains, and one of Bakugo’s wrists was already free… Did he somehow manage to remove one? But where did the fourth chain go, and why would Bakugo stop at just the first…?
“Don’t just stand there, Shinsou, help us get them off!”
Hitoshi frowned, staring at their backs. Kirishima was failing to saw through the wrist cuff with his arm. Bakugo was watching them in turn, expression uncharacteristically gleeful.
How could he be of any assistance, considering he didn’t have Midoriya’s super strength or Kirishima’s hardening or Todoroki’s ice – all of which were failing spectacularly at breaking Bakugo’s chains?
He inched closer, attempting to study the metal binding Bakugo to the bed. It looked silvery, like steel, but with far greater durability somehow—
Suddenly, with his free arm, Bakugo wrenched Hitoshi down by the collar and kissed him.
Hitoshi’s eyes went wide. The affronted shouts from the others sounded garbled, his senses overcome by the unusually sweet taste of Bakugo’s lips and tongue.
Distantly, he wondered when, throughout all of this, Bakugo had found the time to chug an entire bottle of vanilla syrup.
Then, the hand gripping him tightly moved up to his shoulder and pushed, hard. He was unceremoniously shoved to the floor by the blond, landing on his rump. For once, he was the one left speechless, wiping his tingling lips.
“So.” In a flash, Bakugo had returned to outright ignoring him, and was now rearranging himself on the bed. “Who gets to fuck me first?”
“Me,” Kirishima said.
“No.” Midoriya’s arms crackled threateningly with light. “I’m the one who found Kacchan so it should be me.”
“You don’t deserve him,” Todoroki said fiercely, his palm alight with flame.
Hitoshi was still on the floor, watching with incredulity as the three boys snapped at one another. And then there was Bakugo, completely unfazed by it all, whose eyes sparkled with delight at the prospect of his paramours murdering each other for his affections.
Why were they acting like this? What the hell kind of rescue mission did he join?!
He’d signed up to do hero work, but instead he was relegated to watching a bad porno happening in real-time. None of this felt real.
That’s because it wasn’t.
His head felt very, very clear all of a sudden.
“Listen up,” he said, but they were too busy arguing, their jabs soon turning physical.
“Fuck off, Midoriya, haven’t you done enough damage already?” Kirishima said, grabbing Midoriya’s arm.
“He wants me, not you. Just accept it.”
Todoroki fisted their collars and wrenched both of them apart.
“Stop pretending either of you know what Bakugo wants!”
“LISTEN UP!” Hitoshi yelled.
“What?!” They said in unison, heads snapping toward him. And then – he felt himself slipping into their minds, brushing aside an unseen force.
Someone else was here.
Something changed, about the room. Hitoshi was not the only one who felt it shift, as Midoriya, Kirishima and Todoroki staggered back, blinking with newfound clarity.
“Ow,” Kirishima muttered, grabbing at his head. The others mimicked his movement, groaning.
“Shinsou, you… You snapped us out of it,” Midoriya said.
“You were acting crazy. I had to.”
“But what about Bakugo, he seems out of it, too,” Todoroki noted. Bakugo was still in the same position, looking downright annoyed.
“Well? Have you decided who’s gonna make me his bitch? Or am I gonna have to do two at once?” His eyes raked over them.
“Bakugo, can you answer me?” Hitoshi asked. But Bakugo didn’t bother sparing him a glance; his focus remained strictly on his classmates.
“You’re not in your right mind, Bakugo,” Todoroki tried telling him. In response, Bakugo did an extremely lewd gesture with his tongue and his fingers, scandalizing everyone in the room (“Kacchan!” Midoriya gasped).
“What the hell did they do to him?”
“Nothing. I’ve just decided to drop my tsundere routine,” replied Bakugo with a smirk. “Now get over here and give me that cock of yours, Icy Hot. I want it cold this time.”
Todoroki flushed, turning back to the rest.
“What should we do?”
“Break his chains and get him out of here, obviously,” Kirishima said impatiently, moving toward the bed, his upper torso hardened. “We’ll fix his brain later.”
But Midoriya threw an arm out, blocking his path.
“No, don’t get near him!”
“Why the fuck not, Midoriya?”
“Because,” Midoriya said, eyeing the figure on the bed darkly. “That’s not Kacchan.”
Notes:
-We're finally arriving at the last chapter! It's been a wild ride. Can you believe I once thought this would only be 4 chapters long?
-Back to Bakugo (who else?) next chapter!
-Will the four boys manage to save him? Or will Shindou have some tricks up his sleeve? Is Shinsou aware of what he's gotten himself into? What has All Might been up to? And what's happening to Bakugo, anyway? Stay tuned!
Chapter 11: Bakugo's Not Gonna Write You A Love Song
Summary:
Bakugo tries. Everyone tries. Only some succeed.
Notes:
Thank you to my lovely commenters, who have never stopped pushing me to finish this fic. I owe this to you, as your words helped brighten a lot of my days. Seriously, thank you!
heartsinhay, HK44, KathyBoug, Chifu, Glaxeelk, RinFar, Bear Hugs, tsubasahana (PhyllisCake), SpiffyCo, screamingbees, Starkissu, SimpForStrongBoys, karsofantastic, Chibinatalia, helgapataki, LarkaRavenWolf, MeoSunset, glitterfangirl, RekkaKouyuu, Nefera, Haileychavez13, ferries, Kae, ChickeNugget, KimaCat, impassiveimp, Bear Hugs, BakuBB4, kusuri, Mika.ela, Wolfey, SM96B, archviste, *w* Hewwo, Kforkillme, cienne, Lenka
I also have to mention my pals at our lovely Discord server, who've always egged me on further, whenever I doubted myself.
And not to forget the nice people who have said hello on my Twitter!
Lastly, people have contributed such amazing fanwork to my fic and I'm floored by the number of artists who've decided to grace my fic with their amazing drawings and videos!
Mika.ela made a fantastic illustration of the Kirishima's big moment from the end of Chapter 5.
kae_ajri made a spectacular fan video that summarizes the entire fic. It was split into two, so here is the second part!
And BakuBB4 drew an amazing rendition of the iconic first conversation in Chapter 1.
Lastly, jasspurlock was commissioned by YogurtFilled to draw four scenes from the fic, each one a different pairing from a different chapter! The last one contains a spoiler for this chapter, though, so new readers, be warned! You can also view the cover version here! The art is mind-blowing!
Thank you all so much!
Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“What is it, my boy?”
He sounded groggy. Katsuki almost felt bad for waking him up at fuck o’clock from across the world.
“Deku and I were training.”
The statement itself was innocuous enough, but his utterance of it was enough to get his heart pounding in double-time. Pain flared up his affected leg. His body was rebelliously summoning the memory that his mind refused to dwell on.
“That is great to hear! I’m glad that even without me there you’ve continued to—”
“He hurt me.”
Katsuki had to physically push the words out of his own throat. There was a pause on the other end of the line so he waited, shifting all of his weight to the other leg.
“…What was that?”
“Deku hurt me.”
“Bakugo, are you al—”
“I just said he hurt me, didn’t I? So I’m obviously not alright.”
All Might hadn’t jumped straight to downplaying or denying it, at least. He hadn’t questioned the veracity of his statement, hadn’t said shit like ‘Are you sure?’ or ‘Young Midoriya would never!’. It was one of those times that Katsuki remembered (and appreciated) the pragmatic side of All Might, buried under that perpetual smile.
“If you could start from the beginning, dear boy.”
“I told you, we were training,” he lied.
All Might didn’t have to know about that part. His world was already being rocked from finding out this precious protégé had accidentally brutalized a fellow student. No point in saying that it was because he nearly fucked him unconscious. It was sort of true, anyway – Deku had declared that he could control Black Whip, and tried to prove it.
Only to fuck up royally.
“Suddenly, there was something different about him,” Katsuki said. “He tried using Black Whip and he lost control. It’s like— he couldn’t stop himself. No, it’s like he wasn’t even there. His eyes looked different. When I looked right into them, it wasn’t Deku staring back at me. It was something else completely.”
They never fucked face to face before that day, so it’s not like Katsuki would know what expressions Deku normally had on. Maybe Deku always turned into a freakish quirk monster when he fucked, but…
The inhuman look had sent shivers down his spine. Deku’s pupils had all but disappeared, leaving nothing but startling cold green. Katsuki’s screams had gone unheard.
There was no other way to describe it: Deku looked murderous. And it hadn’t been blind rage like Tokoyami’s Dark Shadow. Deku was focused, had kept his eyes on Katsuki the whole time as he wrecked his body. Had him genuinely fearing for his life in a way nothing else had, not since the suffocating grip of sludge. The black whips had burned hot under Deku’s gaze, leaving marks on his wrists and neck and thighs that would last weeks.
Deku hadn’t been a person at that moment. It scarred him, leaving an imprint worse than the ache in his hip.
“…”
Pathetic. Tattling to All Might about getting hurt by Deku.
Except this wasn’t about Deku and him. It was about One for All.
“You believe me, right?” He choked, attempting to keep the anxiety out of his voice.
“Of course I do,” All Might replied immediately. “What got him to stop?”
“What?”
“How did Midoriya snap out of it? I’m only assuming he did at some point. So when did he—”
In his head, Katsuki ran over the sequence of events again. The burning sensation from the marks on his body intensified.
“…When he got what he wanted.”
He was not afraid of Deku.
But no fucking way did he want to be around someone who couldn’t control their quirk, especially knowing what other quirks Deku may possess. While he was already messing around with ones he barely understood.
Two quirks and he was already losing it, so what else could happen if this continued to go unchecked?
Katsuki was slicking up again. Even though Deku had just broken his hip. Fuck. It was disgusting, how he was practically wetting himself at the thought of Deku, rampaging—
It had taken him far too long to cut Deku off.
“Thank you for telling me this,” said All Might. “I understand it must have been hard—”
“It’s not hard! Just… This is important, considering what we talked about. Anyway, I gotta go.”
Katsuki ended the call and leaned against the door, sighing. The conversation had been short, but draining.
All Might’s lack of defense of Deku disturbed him. He should’ve been happy that All Might hadn’t bothered to come up with a single excuse, and yet… Why?
Why hadn’t All Might been surprised? Like he’d been waiting for this to happen?
--
There was a hand inching into the waistband of his underwear.
Katsuki was lying across a car seat, cheek pressed against someone’s thigh. His wrists had been locked into what felt like manacles, hands wrapped in a coarse piece of cloth. The scratchiness had irritated his palms before he lost all feeling in them entirely. Strangely enough, he couldn’t feel his feet either. And his vision, voice and hearing were still blocked.
But whoever was doing this, methodically taking out every sensation one by one, was deliberately making sure he could only feel the fingers that had stroked his hip.
He was distinctly aware of even the slightest press of skin on his. The touches were magnified somehow, sharp and distinct. He recoiled, like he'd been prodded by a lit match.
Someone had loosened the belt the girls had given him, and after trailing down slowly into his trousers, the hand was now rubbing circles on his ass. When he felt the fingers dip between the cheeks, Katsuki flailed, fixing his expression into a glare (even though he was probably glaring at the ceiling), mouthing ‘FUCK OFF’.
Suddenly, there was a roaring noise in his ears.
“—him hear us, we’re almost there anyway.”
He knew that voice. And based on the loudness of it, it belonged to the person he was leaning his head against.
“Already did,” someone unfamiliar replied from the front. The driver, presumably. A third voice, huskier, choked out a laugh from a row behind them.
There were at least three people in the car. He was rolled over, face down in someone’s lap – sick— and he tried to lift his head but a hand gripped his nape and kept him secured on the spot. Katsuki thrashed again as the other hand cupped his ass.
“Someone’s excited,” said the voice, now teasing.
“Took away all his senses and he still gravitated toward the closest dick,” the husky voice mocked. “Damn, that takes talent.”
Katsuki would’ve been more agitated by that barb if he hadn’t been hearing the same shit over and over for days on end. This was nothing.
He couldn’t wait to get his hands on these fuckers.
The van was still moving. Someone was now pulling off his shoes, then tugging at his pants. Indignation was quickly replaced by panic when Katsuki heard the ominous clink of his belt buckle as it was dragged, along with his pants, down to his knees.
He couldn’t feel the fabric against his limbs, which were purposely kept numb, but soon his underwear was tugged off as well. Despite fighting desperately to keep his front pressed heavily against the seat, the cloth was dragged down easily and removed, exposing his entire lower half.
Someone gave a low whistle.
A hand slapped his ass, and the pain was immense – far greater than it should’ve been for a light smack. Katsuki jumped and let out a silent gasp, but the hand grabbed his bottom again and squeezed, and more pain exploded in that area. His brows furrowed and he felt his eyes swivel around in confusion, a futile action due to his blocked vision.
A quirk that could nullify and amplify, at the same time…?
“Park it here.”
Someone was opening the van door, and they were pulling him out, making him stand on his own two feet. Which he had apparently been given permission to feel again. The pavement was hot, with the sun was warm on his back. It was noon, or almost noon, and he could hear telltale sounds that they were in an urban area – construction in the distance, a train running on tracks.
Were they gonna make him walk around blindly, wearing just his shirt in broad daylight? Is that what this was? Yet another ploy to humiliate him?
Katsuki jolted, flung his hands around hoping to hit someone, but to his surprise he was pulled forward – the manacles were attached to a chain, apparently. For them to lead him around like an animal.
‘NO!’ he mouthed, shaking his head. But someone smacked his ass again and he stumbled.
“Get a move on, bitch,” the voice said.
Fingers dug into the flesh of his shoulder, resulting in a searing pain – fuck, it hurt so damn much – and his arms were stretched in front of him as he was tugged forward. Katsuki had no choice but to follow lest he get dragged on his knees.
He couldn’t hear any background voices, so that must’ve meant they were in a place not usually frequented by people. They had been driving a while, but not at an incredibly fast speed, and the stop-start-stop movement of the vehicle indicated that they’d gone through a considerable amount of traffic, and thus were probably still in Musutafu.
He may be outnumbered, dequirked, and literally blind and mute, but he still had his wits and that was what mattered. One opening was all he needed, and he’d kick their asses and get back to school in time for that dumb program, with nobody the wiser.
They led him up three steps, and then into a building whose doors clanged noisily from being opened. An old one, no doubt.
“Just keep going straight,” said that voice in his ear, hands on his hips, and there was definitely something solid rubbing up against his ass. Katsuki couldn’t back up, even if he wanted to, or else this fucker would get the wrong idea. So he wrestled out of his grip and quickened his pace.
It felt cold and musty, and the dread in his chest uncoiled faster and faster, the deeper into the building they went.
They ascended several flights of stairs (around five, he counted). Katsuki stumbled more than a few times, but that was still nothing compared to the humiliation at having to walk around naked from the waist-down. When his captors joked about carrying him the rest of the way, he grit his teeth and mouthed ‘Don’t fucking touch me’ as he climbed, ignoring the comments of the person behind him.
“Anyone wanna trade places with me? View’s great.”
“Should’ve waited ‘til we got there before stripping him,” muttered someone upfront.
“Sue me, I got overexcited,” came the flippant response.
That same person pinched his ass, causing Bakugo to twist away violently and slam sideways into a wall.
His head erupted with pain from the impact, and as he was wrenched forward up the stairs by his wrists, a wave of nausea hit him and he nearly fell on his face. But hands were cupping the sides of his head, disarmingly gentle.
“We’re almost there,” he said, in a tone meant to be encouraging. Almost where? Katsuki tilted his chin up slightly and glared, estimating where the other’s face was. Presumably a step higher than him.
“God, you made such a cute face just now, like a confused little kitten.” With a laugh, the chain was yanked and Katsuki was climbing again.
They brought him through a doorway and then hands were on his shoulders, forcing him down on his knees. Try as he might to shake them off, there were too many of them, dipping into questionable places and pinching him as they manhandled him into place.
His hands were forcibly raised above his head. The manacles were hooked onto something to keep his arms suspended, since yanking them wouldn’t bring them back down.
And then without any warning, Katsuki’s vision was back and he was staring straight into that familiar, annoying face.
“You,” he growled. “I’m gonna fucking kill you, asshole.”
“See what I told you?” Shindou said, turning to his companions. “He’s something else, isn’t he?”
Katsuki didn’t recognize them. They weren’t the same lackeys Shindou had at the licensure exam. These ones seemed more… Unkempt. Definitely not aspiring heroes from the looks of them. One had brown hair wrapped in a ponytail and the other was wearing shades to hide his eyes.
“Thought his quirk’s supposed to be badass or some shit,” said Shades. “He practically handed himself over to us.”
“Right. We thought you’d put up much more of a fight. Why didn’t you, slut?” So Ponytail had been the one with the husky voice.
“School put me on pills so I can’t use my quirk for a couple of hours,” Katsuki said, and blinked.
His voice was back. But even more confusingly, the sentence he was formulating had been ‘who’re you calling slut, you homeless rat-looking fucker’? Yet what came out was completely different.
“Oh. Really? That’s probably why your ass isn’t prepped, then,” Shindou said his eyes narrowing. “How many hours, exactly?”
“Three hours left since the time you first kidnapped me.”
What. The. Fuck.
Why had he answered that?!
Shindou clucked his tongue and checked his watch. The smile was gone, for the moment. It brought Katsuki a tinge of satisfaction knowing he’d thrown off at least one aspect of their plan.
If only he knew what their whole fucking plan was, and why they had him suspended from a goddamn hook, and practically naked. In what looked like an old hospital room, judging from the broken medical equipment scattered around.
He had his suspicions, which he had shoved to the back of his mind, but…
“No need to look worried,” Shindou said, to his friends. “We’ve got lots of time.”
For what?
“For now, let’s talk,” Shindou said, approaching him. Katsuki was forced to look up at him from his kneeling position, and he did so with all the venom he could muster. His companions stayed back, sitting on a dusty emergency stretcher, keeping their eyes trained on him.
So eye contact was necessary for their quirks to work. Probably. God, they were like lamer versions of Aizawa. Weak.
Shindou’s earthquakes were nothing, but one of his companions had some kind of sensory-affecting quirk, which wasn’t currently active, though they could trigger it at any moment. Katsuki would have to find out which one it was and knock him out first.
“So. The prom queen turned out to be the prom slut,” Shindou said, drawing his focus back to him with a knowing smile. This fucker actually thought he was being clever.
“You rigged the votes,” Katsuki groaned in realization.
“Of course I did. I would’ve done anything to see that look on your face again.”
At Katsuki’s bewildered expression, he laughed.
And then came the contrived monologue:
“I was confused by your behavior for the longest time, you know. All of Japan stopped to watch as the greatest hero ruined himself just to save you – and how do you show your gratitude? By strutting around, treating everyone else like they’re not worthy to shine your shoes. So haughty, despite the fact that your reputation consisted purely of you being a perpetual victim. Like everyone else, part of me wanted you to be put in your place, but…”
As Shindou droned on, he knelt down on one knee in front of Katsuki, and his fingers were slowly unbuttoning Katsuki’s top, revealing slivers of his chest. Katsuki glowered, ignoring the blood rushing to his ears. Shindou’s eyes seemed to light up in a gross way, the more of Katsuki that he unwrapped.
He looked far too much like Deku like this.
“But then you failed the licensure exam. Your face – it looked perfect. How you were trying so hard to pretend like nothing was wrong even though your dream had been ripped away from you.”
Shindou’s hand was gripping his chin. Their faces were mere inches apart, and Katsuki intensified his glare, refusing to be intimidated.
“I needed to see that face again. It was haunting my dreams constantly. Luckily, with a little research I found out how much material I had to work with. The sports festival… The sludge incident… All that degradation you went through gave me my fix.”
Based on Shindou’s expression, he did a lot more than just watch those videos. The thought of it made Katsuki screw his face up in disgust.
“But I wanted more. So I went to that stupid prom, and lo and behold, I got to see that beautiful look of humiliation as your name was called. God—” Shindou closed his eyes and breathed. “You looked so hot.”
Christ.
Putting aside Shindou’s fucked up confession… His big plan was to humiliate him, huh? Fat chance.
Katsuki had already been put through the wringer more times than he could count, especially as of late. But none of the incidents had phased him one bit. They only reinforced the idea that majority of people were dumbasses who weren’t worth his time -- and the pathetic extra in front of him was just another example.
So if Shindou was expecting him cry for help, or debase himself, then he really didn’t know Katsuki at all despite his so-called obsession.
“That’s your big plan? To embarrass me?” Katsuki smirked. “Do I fuckin’ look embarrassed to you, shithead?”
Shindou’s face maintained its cool geniality. But in one swift movement, he stuffed three fingers into Katsuki’s ass.
“You—”
Katsuki’s insult was cut off by his own gasp. It shouldn’t have hurt nearly this much, but his insides were burning in agony. Tears would’ve sprung to his eyes if he’d been capable of shedding them at the moment. For fuck’s sake, he’d taken Todoroki’s dick dry, but that was nothing compared to this.
“There it is, the face I was looking for,” Shindou said silkily, and thrust his fingers deeper. Katsuki’s whole body jolted as sharp nails scraped against his walls. He gritted his teeth to muffle the pained scream threatening to spill from his lips.
“Oh, still tight, considering…” Shindou said, trailing off, and suddenly asked: “Hey, what’s the biggest thing you’ve stuffed up here?”
“Deku’s cock,” he said promptly.
As the two in the back burst into laughter, Katsuki felt his cheeks heat up – it had come out automatically, like his previous responses.
The impulse to answer reminded him of Shinsou’s quirk, activating without giving him a chance to refuse. His gaze darted between the two men. If one of them had some sort of dual amplification-nullification quirk, numbing some body parts while making touches feel much more painful, then the other was wielding some kind of truth-telling quirk.
“Figured out the Compulsion quirk already?” Shindou asked. His eyes and smile had grown unpleasantly wide, stretching his face in an unsettling way. “You are a fast learner, unlike your boytoy Todoroki, who was pouring all his secrets to me without noticing. Whined about how he thought you were trying to steal Midoriya from him. What a moron. I bet Midoriya was balls-deep in you at the time, huh?”
“Yeah, he probably was,” Katsuki said, before snapping his mouth shut with a mortified look. Again, his attempt came too late. The other occupants of the room were left howling.
He thrashed aimlessly, not sure which to struggle against first, between the fingers in his ass, the barrage of questions and the assailment of quirks.
“I thought we’d get to enact our plan much sooner. But you didn’t come along to Camie’s hangout,” Shindou said, actually pouting. He withdrew his fingers half-way and then pushed in, hard, causing Katsuki to groan in protest. “So instead I got Todoroki to give me your number. We ought to send him flowers after this, since you wouldn’t be here without his help.”
“Or you could just leave me the fuck alone, which I told you to do ever since prom,” he shot back.
“Didn’t you also tell the other three to leave you alone?”
“Yeah,” he said mechanically.
“So I guess ‘leave me alone’ actually means ‘fuck me, please’ in Bakugo terms. Good to know.” Shindou’s fingers had stopped moving, but were still buried deep in Katsuki’s ass. “But I’m not like those other guys. I wanted you before I found out about your quirk – which is just a cherry on top of the sundae, really.”
“What’re we gonna do?” Asked Shades. “He’s not wet.”
Shindou said nothing. His eyes were fixed on Katsuki, mouth twisted in a relaxed smile. He looked like he had all the time in the world, and that worried Katsuki most of all.
Then out of nowhere his fingers vibrated.
Where Katsuki expected pain, what he got instead was pleasure, reverberating throughout his body, magnified to such an extent that it knocked all thoughts from his mind.
Katsuki arched, throwing his head back. His eyes rolled up and he wanted to scream, though his mouth kept mercifully shut this time around. It lasted several glorious seconds, and he was left panting, sagging against the chains, as horror crept over him. His dick had twitched, his muscles had tightened around the fingers – and Shindou had noticed.
Shindou was staring at him, all semblance of niceness gone. The mask was completely off, his smile deranged.
He curled his fingers and pulled them closer to his own body, jerking Katuski’s hips forward with them.
“I guess we gotta wait,” he murmured, nuzzling his face into Katsuki’s neck.
“St—Sto—” Katsuki tried to say, because Shindou’s fingers were idly twitching, primed for another round of vibrations.
“Shhh,” Shindou said, before kissing him on the lips. Katsuki had no space to pull back. His attempt at biting Shindou was aborted when the tremors had started up again, so intensely that he couldn’t help but moan into the kiss. Which had probably been Shindou’s intention.
“We have time to get to know each other better,” he said, tracing Katsuki’s lower lip with his tongue. “So let’s start from the beginning: who was the lucky guy to stick their cock in here first?”
And as Shindou’s fingers resumed their quaking assault, Katsuki’s lips were already forming the words, and answer after answer was torn out of him.
--
“What I meant to say is, this is Kacchan, but not the real one. It’s a version manifested straight from our thoughts.”
This was so not Deku’s day.
First, Kacchan… Then, All Might… And now, a fake Kacchan?
Shindou was clever. Cleverer than he’d thought. They had fallen for the bait, and Deku had an unpleasant feeling that they were going to have to do something crazy to get out of it.
He was surrounded by two people he least wanted to be around right now. And his quirk hadn’t ceased its ominous thrumming, having sniffed Kacchan in the vicinity (even if it was a fake version). With Todoroki and Kirishima nearby it was now uncoiling, ready to strike. He had to actively suppress it, constantly picturing the black whips receding into his very core.
It was like the taiyaki in the microwave all over again. Only this time, it wasn’t him that ran the risk of getting hurt. It was Todoroki or Kirishima (or maybe even Shinsou) and those possibilities were much more frightening. He was hyper-aware of it, especially following his meeting with All Might.
All Might had been right about his choice to make Deku... Seek help...
“How can you tell?” Shinsou asked him, still skeptical.
“He said something I’d never said out loud, only stuff I’ve thought of in my head,” Deku admitted. “So clearly he’s some sort of illusion pulled from each of our minds. Now, I’ve never pictured Kacchan in this get-up,” he continued, flushing. “But I’m sure one of you have.”
There was a long pause, until Todoroki spoke up.
“It was me,” he groaned. “I should’ve known… He was wearing this in a dream I had.” At their raised eyebrows, he shrugged. “What?”
“This is fucked up,” Kirishima said. “I don’t want to know how you sick fucks picture him! Let’s just find the real one and go!”
“We can’t,” Deku said immediately, looking pointedly away after Kacchan winked at him. “This is a trap. We walked right into it and now we’re stuck. Shinsou may have snapped us partially out of it, but it wasn’t enough. We have to do more to break the illusion entirely.”
Shinsou still looked unconvinced, but to verify Deku’s claims he strode back to the door and tested it.
“Door’s locked,” he said begrudgingly. “If there even is a door. I’m starting to wonder if this entire room is real or not. I’m really regretting having joined this rescue mission, by the way.”
“Camie told me that when it comes to illusions, the best tactic is to project what the person desires or fears most,” Todoroki said.
“What we all desire… Is pretty obvious…” Deku said slowly.
After having noticed it, the mirage-like state of their surroundings was now impossible to ignore. The room had a strange sheen to it. Everything was too bright and dream-like, with a strange aura that was almost suffocating.
Kacchan was the siren, perfect and tantalizing, drawing them in. And Deku couldn’t ignore the call, that was telling him to… To—
Well.
It was clear what they all wanted. He was sitting right there on the bed. In just his mask, gloves and boots, making bedroom eyes at them, kicking his legs back and forth and thriving off of the discomfort of everyone in the room.
“Oh, no. No.” Shinsou said, upon realizing it. “No. Nope, no, nada.”
“What is it?” Todoroki asked.
“But who’s going to…” Kirishima said, making eye contact briefly with Deku before they both turned away, frowning.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Shinsou said, throwing up his hands. “Is that always your solution to any problem? Have sex with Bakugo?”
Todoroki had been the slowest on the uptake, but now that he had caught on, his look was determined.
“I see. It makes sense, I guess. What else is there to do?”
“I dunno, NOT FUCK HIM?” Shinsou said, looking at all of them like they’d gone insane. Deku couldn’t exactly blame him. “For once? Ever think of that?”
“I’m not sure how to explain it,” Deku said. “But apart from you, we all feel it. It’s like… A command of yours, Shinsou. There’s a compulsion to fulfill it, and that same instinct’s telling me that the only way to get out of here… Is by doing what we most desire.”
“Shindou knew we had to be distracted,” Todoroki added. It was weird, hearing him agree so readily, reminding him of when they were friends. Boyfriends. “He was probably hoping we’d just fight each other. But Shinsou, you helped us come to our senses.”
“Did I?” Shinsou said, looking doubtful.
There was a moment of silence, wherein Kacchan rolled his eyes.
“You three are hopeless,” he said, with a devilish smirk on his lips.
Kirishima looked resigned. “Are we seriously doing this?”
And as the tension in the room continued to rise, Deku felt Black Whip slither out of his glove, and he pulled it back in before anyone could notice. Now was not the time.
He knew they were all asking the same question:
If they were gonna have to fuck Kacchan, then who goes first…?
--
They had a camera out.
They were recording him, while he was being fingerfucked against his will. Capturing the moments when Shindou’s fingers veered off-course and thrust in a little too hard. Each stab in the wrong place left him shuddering from the heightened pain.
But what he hated more were the times Shindou hit the right spot, and the fucker knew it, because his grin would widen, and his fingers would vibrate there for longer as Katsuki dissolved before him, back straightening and eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. It felt so good he could barely think.
And Katsuki would try to suppress every moan but sometimes he wasn’t quite successful.
His only consolation was that his body wasn’t lubricating itself, ergo Shindou wasn’t getting everything he wanted. But he’d made up for that by scraping as many details as he could from Katsuki, his friends sniggering on cue at his answers. And he kept on going.
“So why’d you throw away your whole reputation for dick?”
“I didn’t—” He started, despite the protests from his brain to shut up.
“Was it because of their quirks?”
“Maybe—fuck,” Katsuki panted, as Shindou’s fingers pulsed inside him. “I thought you were trying to be a hero! Heroes don’t do this shit.”
“Heroes aren’t supposed to sleep around either, but as far as the camera shows, this is a fully consensual fling.”
“You’re delusional.”
Shindou had made a mess of his right shoulder, sucking hickies into several spots, and had now moved on to the left one. Katsuki grimaced as his uniform top, the only article of clothing remaining, was pulled to the side.
Teeth sank into Katsuki’s neck, producing a filthy wet noise as Shindou branded his skin.
“Am I? You obviously want it.”
“I don’t—” He broke off into a moan, lurching forward but unable to get away from the fingers in his ass.
“You love it, right?”
“I don’t!”
“Then let me rephrase: does it feel good?”
“Yes,” he hissed.
“See? We’ll just cut out the rest of your dialogue in post. Besides, it’s your word against mine and no one’s gonna believe the word of a slut who’s ridden as much dick as you.”
Three people and he’s a slut? Really?
“Especially when they see the video of you moaning around my cock, begging me for more.”
“Not gonna happe—nnN!”
Shindou had bitten him and nudged his sweet spot simultaneously. The combined stimulation was compounding the dizziness he felt, swinging between pain and pleasure with no time to react.
“Are you sure? I think I’m feeling some slick. As if your lewd faces didn’t give it away, you happen to have a special way of showing people that you’re turned on…”
It happened whenever he was stressed, not horny, dammit!
Shindou felt around inside him, searching for the wetness he’d been promised. Katsuki was inwardly panicking, trying to estimate how much time passed since he was taken. Had it really been that long already? Was he going to start lubricating soon…?”
“Oh, I’ve been neglecting these. How could I have forgotten this fantastic set of tits?”
“Nooo—”
It came out a sigh, as Shindou left one more bitemark on his shoulder, before lowering his head to Katsuki’s chest. He could only sit there, frozen in his kneeling position as lips closed around the swell of his breast.
It felt incredible, the massaging sensation multiplied tenfold. He bit his lip as Shindou’s teeth grazed against his nipple, sending lightning shocks through his body.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Shindou asked, voice muffled. “When I’m sucking on them?”
“It does,” Katsuki sobbed. All his partners had a sordid fascination with that part of his anatomy. He didn’t know why, but it sure as hell made him fucking oversensitive in that area. And for that to be used against him was sickening.
He let out an embarrassing whine as Shindou’s fist closed around his dick, and started pumping.
Stop it, his mind screamed, his body growing hot. His skin felt too tight, and along with it came the budding urge to release something, anything, and despite his efforts to tamp it down, his need to let go continued to build. He knew what this meant, and he dreaded it.
Shindou was jerking him off, sending shockwaves through his dick. His mouth was on Katsuki’s nipple, fingers relentlessly vibrating in his ass. All that, coupled with a quirk that magnified sensation, and Katsuki knew he couldn’t take much more.
“Shit,” he said, blinking and – was that wetness he felt in his eyes?
Colors danced in his vision. He was getting light-headed, his body locked in a pleasured state and unable to move except for the shudders that wracked through him. He felt nothing other than Shindou’s hands rippling his skin, his tongue dragging across Katsuki’s chest, and the only sounds filling the room were his own gasps. It felt so good, he hated it—
Don’t leak don’t leak don’t leak—
“Get your hands off me!” He yelled.
“There’s just something about you that drives people crazy, huh? Is it really just the slick?” Shindou swirled his fingers inside him. “Or maybe your pretty face? Or is it your charming personality?”
“I don’t fucking know!”
He thought he felt another tear, gathering in the corner of his eye. Or maybe it was paranoia, making him feel wet and overly-warm, sustained by Shindou teasing his hypersensitive skin.
“Still no slick?”
“Ohh, it’s coming!” Katsuki’s traitorous mouth supplied, while his heart hammered in his chest.
“Good to know,” Shindou said cheerfully. “Let’s continue our Q&A then. So why’d you let Kirishima fuck you?”
As red hair and sharp teeth swam into memory, so did the burst of an unexpected emotion – GRATITUDE – and it slammed into Katsuki full force. With belated horror, that’s when he realized that the quirk didn’t just amplify sensations… But emotions, too.
Warm, fluttery excitement spread outward from his stomach as he thought of Kirishima’s hand catching his at Kamino, how he’d smiled, all those stolen nights wherein they’d meant to do homework but ended up intertwined in bed.
Kirishima, his best friend and savior, whom he hadn’t repaid properly until—
“Because I had to,” he murmured weakly.
“Oh? Then why’d you cheat on him with Midoriya?” Shindou asked.
They had been kids, and Katsuki’s fist had collided with Deku’s face more times than he could remember. The flashbacks continued, and Katsuki thought of the notebook, its pages crispy from his explosion, before he’d thrown it out the window.
GUILT. He was choking on it. He wanted to cry, but his own body wouldn’t let him, collapsing instead under the combined weight of drugs and quirks in his system.
“I had to,” he said again, voice breaking.
“Meh. I expected steamier answers,” Shindou said, complete with eyeroll. “Let me guess, same reason you got fucked by that rube Todoroki?”
And now REMORSE was tightening in his chest. Heavy, like Todoroki when he had him pinned to the floor, his normally drab expression overtaken by a rage Katsuki had never seen before. “You took Midoriya from me,” he had said. “We’re both single now, you made sure of that.” He hadn’t meant to piss off Todoroki, he’d just – really – fucked up—
“I—I had—”
There were definitely tears now, he could feel them, as well as the way his palms sizzled with heat but were snuffed out by the fireproof cloth wrapped around them.
He licked his lips. His mouth felt… Wet.
He was self-lubricating. He was helpless.
HELPLESS.
The sensation was pushed aside, overtaken by Shindou’s hands and mouth driving him toward release. He couldn’t stop it, his body opening itself up in surrender.
“Do you regret it? Being such a slut?”
Yes.
Katsuki wasn’t sure if he said it out loud or not.
It was lost in the mess of noises that spilled from his lips as he came. The most powerful orgasm he’d ever felt was ripped from him as pleasure shot up his spine in never-ending waves. His dick spurted messily into Shindou’s hand while slick flooded the walls of his ass, coming out in torrents.
Large volumes of runny clear fluid spurted past Shindou’s fingers and trickled down his hand, landing on the floor with an audible splash. There was so much of it coating his inner thighs. Every inch of his skin exploded with heat, his body quickly catching up to six hours’ worth of lubrication. When he tried to close his legs, Shindou easily nudged them apart and watched his fluids flow.
He shuddered, and tears trickled freely down his cheeks, his sounds descending into helpless gurgles as saliva dripped from the corners of his mouth. In seconds he was slathered in sweat, damp spots spreading on his shirt. His sweet aroma rapidly filled the room.
Shindou chuckled.
“Well, isn’t that just the hottest thing I’ve ever seen?”
The dam had broken.
He was left panting, dangling limply from his chains as Shindou finally slid his fingers out. The other male lifted his hand to his face and examined it. His hand was covered in Katsuki’s slick, the rest of which Katsuki could hear and feel dripping out of his hole, forming a puddle between his spread knees.
Shindou’s tongue swiped at his thumb. His eyes were completely black.
“Now we can begin.”
Katsuki’s eyes slid shut, heavy with moisture. He regretted everything.
--
No one had spoken a word since they’d collectively decided they were gonna fuck their way out of the room. Well, barring Shinsou, but Shinsou didn’t understand the temptation of having your ex-boyfriend spread out before you, twisting himself into enticing positions that underlined the lack of dick in his ass.
“Dibs,” Eijirou suddenly blurted.
“You can’t call dibs on Kacchan just like that,” Midoriya snapped back at him.
“Of course you’d say that, Midoriya, you of all people have no respect for boundaries, especially when it involves someone else’s relationship.”
“You said we weren’t gonna discuss this!”
“Well it was gonna come up at some point, since we both apparently have to fuck my boyfriend!” Eijirou found himself shouting.
“If he was really your boyfriend, then how come he let me fuck him?!” Midoriya easily matched his volume, and was advancing toward him, his gloves crackling black. Not green, which was… Significant.
But Eijirou wasn’t afraid. He raised his own arm, already hardened, and—
“If you’re both just gonna argue again, then I’ll go first,” Todoroki said.
“No!” Eijirou stepped in front of Katsuki, shielding him from view. He tried his best to ignore the blond snickering throughout their little spat. “I slept with him before any of you, didn’t I? Katsuki and I lost our virginities to each other and there’s nothing you two can do to change that. So it only makes sense that I go first, yeah?”
The silence was proof enough that he had won the argument. Sure enough, even Midoriya backed down, despite the rage was evident on his face.
“So that’s it then?” Shinsou asked. “The rest of us are just gonna sit here and watch?”
“Obviously not.” Eijirou turned around and unclipped the R from his belt. “Turn around and cover your ears or something.”
“You’re already hard?” Todoroki asked.
“Of course I’m hard!” He burst out. “He’s right there and he’s naked!”
He’d raised his voice, trying to psyche himself up. And from the looks of it, this Katsuki, fake or otherwise, reflected his excitement with the way he reached out and hooked his fingers through Eijirou’s belt loops, tugging him closer.
“Oi, Shitty Hair,” he purred. The real Katsuki never would’ve purred like that, but Eijirou would be lying if he said this slutty version wasn’t having the same profound effect on his dick. “Aren’t you gonna go Unbreakable? ‘Cause last time was manly as hell.”
“I still can’t believe you went Unbreakable,” Midoriya murmured. Along with the others, his back was turned but he’d made no attempt to cover his ears.
“SHUT UP!” Eijirou roared, climbing onto the bed. He turned Katsuki onto his stomach, and pressed him down against the mattress before getting in position behind him. “E-even you, Katsuki,” he said, pushing shaky fingers into the blond’s ass.
He was wet, and the familiar candy scent that Eijirou had missed so much wafted off of him as he wriggled in his grip.
This was torture. He felt and smelled exactly like the real Katsuki—
“You usually don’t want me to shut up, though,” Katsuki said, arching in a way that had his ass sticking straight up, at level with Eijirou’s groin. Posing like he was desperate to be filled. “You want me moaning around your cock like a whore. You always liked putting me in my place, huh?”
“I hate this,” Shinsou said, to no one in particular.
Eijirou would’ve loved the dirty talk otherwise, but right now he echoed Shinsou’s sentiment. He wasn’t excited by the prospect of everyone else listening him fuck an illusion of his ex.
Who knows what other incriminating shit Katsuki would say? Since apparently he was a manifestation of their linked minds, as Midoriya claimed. So Eijirou hurriedly thrust his cock into him and set off at a punishing pace, silently praying that it would leave Katsuki a moaning, unintelligible wreck.
“Ohh yeahhh, that’s the spot,” Katsuki exclaimed, crushing all of Eijirou’s hopes. “You loved being the first and only one to stick a cock in me, thinking I’d only ever bend over for you. It’s just a shame that half the time I was getting railed by Izuku here—”
“Katsuki,” Eijirou growled. “Dammit, be quiet!”
He crushed his hardened fingers around Katsuki’s hips and sank in to the hilt, making the blond yelp.
But the silence, regrettably, didn’t last long. Eijirou had never hated and loved something so much at the same time, as he was finally inside Katsuki’s tight body again, driving into his moist heat. But it was a fake, Katsuki’s exaggerated moans were proof of that, and he couldn’t put aside the fact that they had a goddamn audience.
And this Katsuki wouldn’t stop saying the most awful things, gleefully ripping open wounds that hadn’t yet healed.
“Makes you a little nostalgic, doesn’t it?” Katsuki panted. “Railing me on a bed? Hey, speaking of Kirishima’s bed – Deku, you remember that time you fucked me on it while Kirishima was asleep in my room?”
Eijirou froze.
“You what?!”
Deku had kept his back turned, but his shoulders visibly stiffened.
“He’s—he’s lying—”
“You know damn well that he isn’t!”
“I’m not,” Katsuki laughed, and tilted his hips so he could grind back against Eijirou’s dick, urging him to continue. His gloved hands were curled into the sheets, singeing holes in them. “You know,” he said, grinning over his shoulder at Eijirou’s horrorstruck face. “I was still full of your come when he fucked me.”
Shinsou groaned.
“Don’t listen to him, Kirishima,” Midoriya mumbled.
“Midoriya, I’m going to break your face after this,” Eijirou said tightly, his teeth grinding together. The new revelation left his head spinning, rendering him incapable of thinking or breathing. His fingers hardened of their own accord, similar cracks splitting his facial features as Katsuki squealed and twisted beneath him.
“As long as you don’t break his dick,” Katsuki said in between gasps. “I—fucking—love Deku’s dick—”
“That is it,” Todoroki exploded, turning on the spot. Before anyone could protest, he stalked over to the bed, planted himself down next to Katsuki’s head and pulled out his cock.
“Todoroki, what are you—”
“You don’t have to look,” Todoroki said, grabbing Katsuki by the hair. “But we’ll end up killing each other at this rate if he keeps talking.” And he slammed Katsuki’s mouth down on his cock, the blond’s remarks taken over by gurgling noises.
Eijirou let out an affronted noise, but couldn’t will himself to move.
He was still buried into Katsuki’s ass, relishing the clenching of his walls around him. But… Knowing that Katsuki was only squeezing him this way because Todoroki was smothering him on his cock?
Fuck. In this state, he didn’t know how long his hard-on would last. He didn’t want to see Katsuki sucking another man’s dick!
And despite keeping his gaze pinned on Katsuki’s lower back, he could hear every sound, as Katsuki showed a verbal enthusiasm for deep-throating that he’d never demonstrated with Eijirou.
“I… I dunno if I can do this,” he finally admitted, hips stuttering to a halt.
“Mmph-mmm!” Came Katsuki’s annoyed grunt, and his free hand reached back to slap at Eijirou’s thigh.
“He’s not real,” Todoroki reminded him.
“Does that matter if he looks, feels and sounds exactly like Katsuki? This is a complete freakshow, we’re pretending it’s him by fucking him but at the same we’re insisting he’s not. He—he was mine, and I just can’t do this, especially with any of you.”
“We agreed to let Bakugo choose, when he’s ready,” Todoroki said.
“Well I’m not ready to—fuck, Katsuki, quit it.” Eijirou said, as Katsuki whined and impatiently thrust back against his cock. “It still hurts whenever I think of him having slept with someone else and now I have to watch… Well, you!”
“I slept with Bakugo because I was angry,” Todoroki said, maintaining a surprising level of calm as Katsuki’s head furiously bobbed up and down his cock. “At both him and Midoriya. It was just sex to me at the time. I doubt he has feelings for me, and whether he does or doesn’t, I plan to respect his choice.”
Eijirou put all his weight on Katsuki, driving his cock into him and pinning his hips against the mattress. The blond thrashed, causing his chains to rattle noisily.
“His—choice—?”
“Enough of this sappy shit—just fuck me you fu—” Todoroki guided Katsuki’s head back down to his lap, shutting him up once more.
“Yeah. I respect Bakugo’s choice to sleep with other people.” His expressionless gaze landed on Eijirou. Over Katsuki’s sucking noises, he continued speaking. “The simple truth is that part of me – perhaps even all of me – wants to be with Bakugo, but I worry I might be jumping into another relationship too early. And so, deep down, I know that the correct thing to do is to give him space.”
“Dammit,” was all Eijirou could think to say in response, and he wasn’t sure why. His heart was sinking, and it was an added burden to having to fuck a mirage of his best friend. Todoroki had it all figured out, had accepted Katsuki, while he was still pussyfooting around…
Maybe Todoroki deserves him more than I ever did, he thought bitterly, finally lifting his gaze. The sight intensified the ache in his chest, of Katsuki deepthroating Todoroki like a pro, Todoroki’s hand gentle on his nape.
This fucking sucks!
With renewed anger, Eijirou scraped diamond-sharp nails up Katsuki’s thighs and fastened them on the cheeks of his ass. Leaving indents on the supple flesh, he pulled out all the way and rammed his dick in with as much force as he could. Katsuki’s whole body slid up the mattress as he keened around Todoroki’s cock.
“I hate to break up this little therapy session, but… One of Bakugo’s cuffs came off.”
They all jumped at the sound of Shinsou’s voice, before looking around.
There was no more band of metal wrapped around one of Katsuki’s ankles, leaving only his left leg and right arm chained.
“So whatever we’re doing, must be working…?” Eijirou mused out loud.
Shinsou nodded, staring pointedly at the far wall.
“But there’s bad news, too. Apparently Midoriya’s also the jealous type… And, well, he wasn’t happy.”
Todoroki raised his head, and they watched the figure in front of them uneasily. Midoriya had been strangely quiet, and now they knew why: he was facing toward them like a statue, eyes empty from Shinsou’s mind control.
His hands were at his sides, but his gloves were pulsating with black energy, ribbons that were slowly getting longer, reaching toward the bed. Reaching for them.
Had his eyes always been that green?
“I put him under just in time, but he’s always been able to shake off my quirk in a matter of minutes. What do we do now?”
“Oh, finally,” Katsuki said, removing his mouth from Todoroki’s dick with a popping noise. “He’s been wanting to kill you both for weeks.”
--
“That was the perfect ahegao face if I ever saw one.”
Katsuki hadn’t wanted Shindou or anyone else to see him like this.
He couldn’t breathe. His whole body was trembling, drenched from head to toe, and Shindou was kissing him messily, swallowing up his gasps and smearing saliva all over his face.
He made a show of holding up the hand, the one he’d fucked Katsuki with, and sucking the viscous substance off each of his fingers one by one, as Katsuki glared at him through the haze of his tears.
“Ah, so it is as sweet as they say, like maple syrup. And you took four fingers no problem without your slick. That’s promising.” Katsuki snarled out several obscenities as Shindou’s mouth returned to suckle at his chest. “Mmm, I wonder, do you lactate beer? Piss cola? Is your come whipped cream-flavored?”
“O-obviously not—”
“Couldn’t hurt to ask,” Shindou shrugged.
Katsuki hadn’t noticed that the two goons left their spots. Shades managed to creep up behind him and was lifting the back of his shirt. He wriggled, despite knowing it was futile – any second now they would find the tattoo! They would see—
“Ohhh, shit,” said Shades, and Katsuki closed his eyes. It was too late—
But Shades’ fingers were probing at his hole instead. “He’s dripping,” he said in awe, and Katsuki stilled. “Fuck, he’s so hot and wet inside. Like a pussy, but tighter.”
He was too shocked to spare them a vicious retort. Why weren’t they saying anything about the state of his lower back… Unless the tattoo was somehow gone…?
They moved on to unhooking his manacled hands, then one of them (he still couldn’t figure out which one did which) took away all feeling in his limbs. Katsuki was pretty much a corpse, his whole body limp as they transferred him to what turned out to be…
…A fucking gynecology chair.
“What the fuck,” Katsuki choked, as his feet were strapped into raised stirrups, his legs forced apart in a lithotomy position. He was positioned like a woman about to give birth.
Heat flooded his cheeks as his unresponsive body lay there, adjusted so that his arms were trapped overhead again, bent and dangling off the top of the seat. A restraining strap was placed across his ribs, pushing his chest up in a way he suspected was intentional.
“Let me go, dammit! What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
“Can’t believe he’s spreading his ass open in front of us and yet he’s still acting so high and mighty,” Ponytail grumbled.
Numbness faded from his limbs. Katsuki attempted to tug himself free, but it was no use. He was completely exposed, his leaking hole on display.
“Isn’t that what makes him so lovable?” Shindou chuckled, grabbing an office chair and plopping down on it. He rolled toward the other end of the gynecology chair, and grabbed a lever jutting out from its side.
With one crank the chair level dropped by several inches, making Katsuki yelp in surprise as he was abruptly lowered with it. Now its surface was at the same height as Shindou’s chin, giving Katsuki the perfect (alarming) view of Shindou between his legs.
“Wh-what are you doin’—”
Truth is, Katsuki knew exactly what was about to happen. He just didn’t want to believe it.
“What, you’ve never played doctor before?”
He didn’t wait for Katsuki to respond this time, swiftly burying his face in between Katsuki’s legs.
There were vibrations coming out of Shindou’s fucking tongue, as it pressed into his dripping hole and caught some of the slick that was trickling out. Katsuki’s eyes squeezed shut, sending more tears down his cheeks as he willed himself not to come.
“Nnn—Sto—”
He was left whining, as Shindou’s tongue was licking and sucking and kissing, firing off every nerve in his body.
A hand shot out, quirk-happy fingers encircling Katsuki’s dick again. He bucked his hips, trying to get the hand off… Or… Get off? Despite having come just earlier, once again he was getting… Hard…
His brows pinched together in distress, causing him to accidentally make eye contact with the guys across the room. He flushed deeper under their predatory looks.
“Can’t believe this bitch is trying to be a hero,” Shades said.
He was so, so fucking sick of those stares and comments, the same ones he’d received from every asshole at school.
He gaped at the ceiling instead and tried to ignore the electric sensation between his legs.
Katsuki found he couldn’t wrench his legs from his bonds. He felt too boneless, Shindou eating him out until he was whimpering and sagging against the chair, the resistance sapped from him.
More slick gushed out of him, spurred on by the vibrations in his hole. Shindou slurped it up greedily, finishing with a sharp exhale as if he’d just emptied a cold drink.
“Of course you’d be a squirter,” Shindou murmured, surfacing. He looked like he was in heaven as he wiped Katsuki’s residue from his mouth. “How many of them did what I’d just done?”
“All of them,” Katsuki said, reddening.
“Jesus, you’re such a slut.”
Katsuki sniffled angrily, unable to do anything else.
“I think you’re stretched out enough for the next part.”
Katsuki’s heart dropped.
Next part?
Shindou got up and retreated to a corner to retrieve something from a bag. He returned with his hand conspicuously held behind his back.
“Everyone knows how much you love quirk sex. Now, how ‘bout some mutant sex, babe?”
Katsuki assumed Shindou would try to fuck him.
But this – this seemed infinitely worse. He was holding some weird contraption, that was definitely not your regular sex toy. Not like the rubber or plastic ones that had been left in his locker. This looked metallic and much more advanced, resembling a jackhammer but with grooves etched along the shaft. It was impossibly thick, and its tip was a black, bulbous thing, the size of a golf ball.
“In case you ever wondered what getting fucked by a mutant-sized cock is like… It looks like this.”
He pressed a switch and it… Lengthened and widened before Katsuki’s very eyes. The contraption rearranged its parts with a loud hissing noise, until its circumference increased substantially in every part except the base.
“What do you think?”
“It’s not going to fit,” he blurted, which made Shindou laugh.
“Who’d have thought your inner monologue would consist entirely of hentai lines?”
And Shindou was advancing toward him with that… That thing, as Katsuki’s fear kept mounting. Butterflies were multiplying in his stomach.
“You know how mutants are… They’re practically non-human, so you can imagine how difficult it is to fuck one, right?”
No, he’d never imagined that.
“Especially the huge ones. Well, that’s what this device is for. It’s the only thing that can really satisfy them, unless they resort to sticking steel beams up their asses.” Sniggering at his own joke, he continued, brandishing the thing like a teaching stick.
“And it’s a prototype! Only available in the black market. I figured you deserved a challenge, see,” he said, brimming with pride at having procured such an apparently rare object.
“Oh, and it changes size, look! This is S. It can go up to size XL like so—” And it did, expanding and growing. “I think it even shoots out realistic jizz. I don’t know if this ever got past the testing phase but hey, you’re the expert at taking cock here, so you tell me if it feels like the real deal.”
Holy shit.
If something could fuck someone to death, it was probably that.
The object had straps that Shindou buckled around the junctures of Katsuki’s pelvis and thighs. Katsuki growled as the toy slid into him with a schlicking noise.
“Urggh…”
The effect was immediate. He was melting against the seat, his eyes fluttering. Apart from the ache from putting it in so abruptly, it felt damn amazing, already nudging his prostate from its resting position.
“I’ll only take it out if you beg me to fuck you,” Shindou said, before planting a kiss on his inner thigh.
“Go fuck yourself,” Katsuki said, over the growing pressure in his abdomen. The toy was pretty much poking his guts.
“Funny you should say that,” Shindou said, and switched it on.
Katsuki came instantly.
He cried out, as his swollen dick spurted fluid again, although there was much less this time, in contrast with the lubricant overflowing from his ass. The toy fucked him, as in really fucked him, its shaft pistoning back and forth automatically to simulate sex.
It was absolutely terrible, because it was working, tricking his body and driving him insane with need, a fresh wave of tears streaming down his cheeks. He couldn’t help the looseness of his mouth, as it fell open and sounds he could no longer hold back poured out.
“Ah, ah—"
Shindou had started another round of questioning.
“Would you believe I was actually disappointed when I found out they got to you first? I don’t think you would’ve become such a tramp if I’d been the one to pop your cherry. After a taste of my dick, you wouldn’t have ever thought of jumping on anyone else’s.”
He stood calmly, watching Katsuki’s debauched expressions with glee.
“I suppose damaged goods aren’t so bad when they’re you.”
Then he placed his palms on Katsuki’s chest and vibrated them, making the flesh jiggle and – fuck. With both his ass and tits being stimulated, Katsuki had no chance. He let out a feeble moan, turning his face to the side.
“I wonder which one of them you would’ve ended up with?”
As usual, his mouth answered without any input from his brain.
“Ki—To— I don’t know!” He wailed.
“Still can’t decide, huh? Too cumbrained from all that dick.”
“Fuck off,” Katsuki said with difficulty.
“Oh, come on. A fake dick is still a dick. Is it better than Unbreakable?”
“No!”
“Fine, how ‘bout Todoroki’s thermometer dick?”
“Todoroki’s… Better than you’ll ever be.”
It had been taxing, just to get to words out, but the minor victory was worth it. He had irked Shindou, because he answered on impulse and that was proof enough that his rejection was genuine.
Since Katsuki had no choice but to vocalize his honest thoughts, no matter how Shindou could phrase his questions, he could not change the truth: that Katsuki had absolutely no desire to fuck him.
“You really think that.”
“Duh,” Katsuki said.
Shindou was visibly fighting to remain calm, but his nails dug into Katsuki’s chest as he tried again. “It surely is better than Midoriya, at least! Oh, wait a second, what is his quirk anyway?”
“Uhhh—”
In his panic, Katsuki shoved aside all thoughts of All Might, of all their meetings and secrets, and was left with thoughts of Deku.
Sex with Deku. The only good part of Deku – Deku’s dick.
“Deku made ME feel SO good,” he groaned, the fuck-machine making his voice hitch in all the right places. “I LOVED when HE pinned ME down and FUCKED me on ALL fours, with his massive DICK!”
And as embarrassing as that display was, it got Katsuki to realize one thing:
He didn’t have to answer anything directly. All he had to say was the first thing that popped into his head, without hesitation.
Shindou didn’t notice that he’d dodged the question.
“Midoriya? Fuck, I should’ve known he was a freak.”
“No need to be jealous,” Katsuki said, with the barest hint of a smirk.
Shindou bowed his head slightly, so that his dark hair covered his eyes. He looked more Deku-like than ever.
“You know… You look like you can take a little more.”
He reached for the base of the toy and toggled the switch to M.
Katsuki arched, pushing his chest up against Shindou’s vibrating palm. He felt like he was being torn in two, pleasure and pain clashing in his body, each trying to overpower the other.
“Do-n’t!” he whined.
Apparently changing the setting counted as finishing one ‘session’, because as the contraption readjusted its size, Katsuki could feel it spraying some unknown fluid into him. It was warm, and felt very much like the substance it was meant to imitate, except watery and more copious in amount.
Katsuki cried out as it flooded his insides and immediately overflowed, pooling out onto the seat cushioning his ass.
He felt so full.
The toy elongated inside him, slamming into and bouncing off of his pleasure point until Katsuki was coming… Again. Out of his dick trickled a few drops of fluid, and then nothing. This didn’t bode well, especially considering how much he was still leaking from his other openings. His body had its limits, and prom had been a grim reminder of that.
But unlike then, these moments of pure euphoria were being stolen from him. He was falling apart while Shindou’s cronies pointed and laughed. It was awful, he knew that much in his head, but under the amplification quirk it was also the best fuck of his life.
--
Midoriya stood completely still, except for the incessant curling and uncurling of his fists. The black tendrils were splitting into several branches, all pulsating toward them like a long, decaying arm.
Shouto looked down at the blond sucking his cock. Dying by Midoriya’s hand wouldn’t be so bad if this was the last image he got to see.
“He’s breaking out of it,” Shinsou warned.
“One of us ought to hold him off,” Shouto said. His grip loosened on Bakugo’s hair, but he was very much aware of the tongue licking his cock from base to tip.
“Fuck no.”
Shouto’s eyebrows lifted in surprise but he refused to look in Kirishima’s direction, not wanting to see how deeply he was embedded into Bakugo. That’d be weird. This whole thing was already weird enough.
“We’ve seen firsthand how far Midoriya would go to get his hands on Katsuki,” Kirishima said. “Shinsou, push him closer to us.”
“Are you crazy?” Shinsou said.
“He wants Katsuki as much as we do,” Kirishima said, resigned. “So let him have at it. Besides, like you said, this Katsuki’s an illusion.”
Shinsou nudged Midoriya toward them. Bakugo stretched out his free hand and grabbed Midoriya’s crotch.
“Ka—Kacchan!” Midoriya exclaimed, springing to life immediately as Bakugo wrestled his dick out of his pants.
Shouto knew he wasn’t the only one who sighed in relief as the black whips wrapped themselves firmly around Bakugo’s wrist.
“This is… Rea…Lly strange…” Midoriya’s voice came out strained, from the measly effort of talking and have his dick manhandled at the same time.
“Don’t we know it,” Kirishima sighed, in a surprisingly cavalier manner for someone in the middle of drilling ass. Shouto couldn’t ignore the way Bakugo’s body twitched from the impact of every thrust. “But we still have to save the real Katsuki, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“No, I haven’t,” Midoriya said.
They lapsed into the longest silence of Shouto’s life, filled with awkward grunts as they tried to jostle Bakugo’s body without jostling each other’s, which soon proved to be impossible.
Because it was a struggle, just to keep Bakugo’s mouth wrapped around his dick. Especially when the blond was squeaking like that. Which, based on the movement out of the corner of his eye, was due to Kirishima repositioning himself and compressing Bakugo into a crouch, so that his ass was sticking up.
There was a rhythmic rattling to the chains, from his and Kirishima’s combined efforts to stuff Bakugo from both ends. Midoriya was trying and failing to hold in his own sounds of ecstasy as Bakugo jerked him off.
Was this karma? Ending up an unwilling participant in the world’s most reluctant foursome, which was also the world’s most miserable gangbang? Just because he happened to like a guy that two other people also liked?
Shouto tried to look at the brighter side of things. He’d finally gotten his dick sucked by Bakugo. But the tradeoff was that it had happened with a fake!Bakugo, who writhed far too convincingly as Shouto watched him get railed by two of his classmates.
Was it worth it? …Maybe. He’d trade his family fortune to have the real Bakugo look at him the same way this copy did, huge doe eyes peering up at him as his cock stretched the blond’s mouth open.
He absently brushed at Bakugo’s cheek, then his hand lowered. When he felt Bakugo’s chest, he let out a questioning sound. His discovery surprised him so much that he shifted, his dick falling from Bakugo’s lips, with a string of saliva connecting their parts together.
Kirishima stilled.
“What is it?”
“His chest is bigger,” Shouto said. “Who did this?”
Midoriya coughed.
“Now we’re talking,” Bakugo said, without regard for the drool and pre-come running down his chin. “You sure you don’t wanna invite your friend to join us? I’ve got one more free hand.”
“Kacchan,” Midoriya said, moaning in frustration. Or at least, Shouto hoped it was frustration.
“What? I’m flexible enough. Todoroki can tell you all about it.”
Right. Shut him up. He shoved Bakugo’s head back down, but a monumental thrust from Kirishima dislodged the mouth from his dick again.
“Ohh, yeahhh, Kirishima, you’re sooo big. Feels so good in my tight slutty ass.”
Bakugo’s come-ons were more disconcerting than hot at this point. There was no use in pretending that they hadn’t all had sex with Bakugo; they knew what Bakugo sounded like in bed. In short, it was nothing like the filth currently pouring out of his mouth. So who exactly was making Bakugo talk like this?
“I watched porn recently, okay?” Kirishima grumbled, as if reading his mind.
“Hey, Icy Hot,” Bakugo teased, rubbing his cheek against Shouto’s dick. That was too much. Shouto grabbed his head with both hands. “Remember when your dick got stu—”
“Quiet. Your mouth is better suited to doing other things,” Shouto said, pulling the blond’s head back down.
He didn’t know how long this had to go on for. He had broken his ‘chain’ to Bakugo, so to speak, but despite the ongoing sex, the other two hadn’t shown any progress. Who knew how this was going to end, or when?
In a porno, they would’ve come at the exact same time like firehoses, spraying Bakugo every which way with semen until he was covered head to toe in it. Shouto only knew that because Mineta had tricked him into watching one once. The girl had made a corny pun and then looked at the camera and winked, then the film ended.
He doubted that would happen with Bakugo. Only, now that the scene was in his head… Fuck.
But this wasn’t a porno, Shouto reminded himself. This was real life throwing them into the strangest situation they’d ever been in. There were no witty one-liners being traded, as he’d effectively muted Bakugo with his cock.
They weren’t talking.
But… It hadn’t been oral sex that got rid of Bakugo’s cuff. It had been Shouto talking to Kirishima, sharing his deepest feelings.
It had been his acceptance.
Bakugo, for some reason, chose that moment to waggle his eyebrows up at Shouto, and it was amazing how expressive his face was, even when his mouth was occupied. The gesture was… Endearing, in a ‘look at me, see how many cocks I’m handling’ sort of way, and Shouto didn’t even think he was into that sort of thing, but he still came.
“I’m done,” he said, amidst the lewd noises of Bakugo gulping down every last drop.
“He’s supposed to hate swallowing. Fuck,” Kirishima whined, and from the look and sound of it, he was coming as well. Caused by some sort of sex-domino effect, Shouto figured.
Shouto hesitantly dragged his limp cock back into his pants. There was nothing gagging Bakugo now.
“Mmmm,” Bakugo moaned, like he’d finished a full coarse meal. “Shitty Hair didn’t come first? Bullshit.”
“Hey,” Kirishima said, still balls deep in him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t talk to him,” Deku said.
“No, no,” Todoroki said, angling Bakugo’s head toward Midoriya. “Keep talking. What else?”
“Truth or Dare night, God, Deku here had me bent over in the fucking bathroom, on all fours, I’d never come so hard, screaming his name, and then at prom—”
“Prom? We… But we had sex during prom!” Kirishima said.
“We did,” Bakugo confirmed, distracting everyone momentarily by wiggling his ass. “But so did me and Deku. Why do you think I fainted? You were all there when Recovery Girl diagnosed me with Too-Much-Dick-Itis.”
“Midoriya,” Shouto said, closing his eyes and sighing deeply.
“What the fuck!”
“Dammit! Don’t fall for it, Kirishima!” Midoriya yelled. More black whips shot out and tied themselves around Bakugo’s limbs to drag him away from the redhead.
“Fall for what? The stuff he’s saying, which is coming directly from your brain? You fucked my prom date on prom. You fucked my boyfriend after I told you he was my boyfriend. And yet you’re mad?”
“I was jealous!” Midoriya said. “Can’t you see that I’ve been jealous of you this whole time? I wanted Kacchan for years, and you managed to make him your boyfriend in a few months when I couldn’t get him to be my friend for over a decade!”
Upon hearing that, Kirishima looked unsure of how to react.
“Yes, I was selfish, but weren’t we all? Didn’t we all go after Kacchan without regard for any consequences? And isn’t Kacchan one to blame, too? He never said he wanted to stop messing around with me! At least… Not until…”
Midoriya trailed off, with a faraway look in his eyes.
“…I don’t think he ever called me his boyfriend,” Kirishima said slowly, sitting back on his haunches. “And, okay… Maybe I never considered that Katsuki would possibly want someone else. I assumed that he would only ever want me, that I would be enough for him. We should’ve…. Should’ve talked, me and him.” His red eyes were shining with unshed tears. “About our relationship. And whether it actually existed or… Or not.”
This time, they all noticed when the cuff on Bakugo’s leg broke. Its spot on his boot was quickly replaced by black tendrils, which weaved around his legs and branched all the way up past his thighs. Some had spread to the curve of Bakugo’s ass, and were inching closer to his—
Suddenly, Shouto didn’t want to look anymore.
“It’s all up to you now, Midoriya. As always,” Kirishima said.
“What’s wrong, Izuku?” Katsuki asked, his voice sickeningly-sweet as his hand pumped Midoriya’s dick. “Got tired of breaking your own bones, so you’re trying to break mine again? How’d that work out for ya last time, hun?”
“You broke his bones?” Kirishima said, voice trembling with renewed anger. Shouto swiftly got off the bed. “Midoriya, do you seriously not realize how fucked up you are? I trusted you for advice and you told me not to hurt him! And yet you—You—"
“I know, I know!” Midoriya said. His tearful expression now matched Kirishima’s. “Don’t you think I know that? I never said I wasn’t blameless. I know I hurt Kacchan. I know I’m not good for him. I know it’s for the best that I leave him alone. And I am, okay? I’m leaving!
“Leavi—What do you mean you’re leaving?” Shouto asked.
Instead of answering, Midoriya made a furious noise and Shouto barely had time to look away, before he heard the other male achieve a rather pitiful climax.
“Finally,” Shinsou monotoned, reminding Shouto for the fourth time that it wasn’t just the three of them in the room.
The last cuff on Bakugo’s wrist was gone. Black Whip was receding, sucked back into Midoriya’s glove.
But it wasn’t over. They were treated to a disturbing image of Bakugo dissolving before them, his yellow hair melting onto his shoulders, naked body softening into what looked like mush.
Kirishima cursed and practically leaped off the bed, his belt still loose around his pants. Midoriya followed suit, and they watched in awe as Bakugo spoke, in a garbled voice, his form no longer solid as he raised a shapeless arm. He was reaching toward Midoriya.
“Izuku, wait!” he pleaded, and the bed vanished along with him.
In his place stood a tall man, who looked a lot like Shinsou except older and more grizzled. He had the same dead eyes, and was talking sternly:
“You were the worst thing to happen to us. You know how happy we were together until that disgusting power of yours came along? You’ve been turning her against me this whole time, haven’t you, you miserable little shi—”
“Will you shut the fuck up?” Shinsou said without hesitation.
“Eh?”
The man vanished too, and the room rippled back to its drab state, lights blown out and dust covering every surface.
There was somebody sitting in the corner. Shouto recognized him as one of Shindou’s friends, the one whose face had been covered. He was wrapped in the same parka as last time.
They approached his unmoving form, and Shinsou pulled down the hood, revealing a boy with greasy hair and blank eyes.
“Your illusions fucking sucked,” Shinsou said, tone dripping with venom. “Now tell us where the real Bakugo is.”
As the man droned out the answer, Shouto found himself sharing uncertain glances with Midoriya and Kirishima. By the time they were rushing off in the direction Shindou’s friend told them, they had already made a silent pact that what transpired between them was never to be discussed again. Ever.
--
Katsuki was on the verge of passing out from dehydration. He had some experience in that area (unfortunately), and all the signs were there: blurry vision, clammy skin, a severe pounding in his head, and irrational thoughts.
He wished one of them were here, fucking him instead of that machine. Kirishima or Todoroki. Or maybe even Deku. Yeah. Deku wouldn’t be so bad, despite being a plainer version of Shindou. The height difference between them was irritating, and the freckles were gross, but in his own way Deku could be handso--
Right. Irrational thoughts.
Shindou had made him come, over and over, and he was soaking wet at this point, whole body dripping. The birthing chair was slippery beneath his bare skin.
The toy had been turned up to L, which meant it discharged another round of hot liquid into his ass before swelling to uncomfortable proportions. It was clearly not designed for a body as small as his. The thing had enlarged to a point that its base formed a seal where it was stretching Katsuki’s hole to its limit, trapping all the fluids in him and depositing even more.
Katsuki was overstuffed as it is. What if it got bigger? Or released more liquid? He couldn’t accommodate any more, there was simply no more space. Any change and he would rip, or explode—
He looked down, and maybe it was his imagination, his brain haywire from all the consecutive orgasms, but his belly looked like it had the slightest hint of a bulge.
He nearly threw up.
“Beg me,” Shindou said. “Beg me to fuck you.”
Katsuki’s eyes narrowed. “No.”
“What’s wrong, is one cock not enough anymore? Been wishing that they’d just share you? You have two holes, after all. Could even make it three with the right quirk.”
Katsuki turned his head away. It was a minor act of rebellion but Shindou went livid, grabbing his face and jerking him back to face him.
“You can’t possibly think you could still be a hero after this. I could release the footage online. Show them what happened today. And all the times you got your ass fucked in the locker room. After that, who will ever take you seriously?”
Despite his whole spiel about embarrassment or whatever, it didn’t escape Katsuki’s notice how vindictive Shindou sounded whenever it came to discussing his sex partners. He couldn’t go ten seconds without mentioning them in some way, most of his interrogation focusing on Katsuki’s sexual experiences.
Was this supposed to be some form of perverse punishment, for daring to sleep with multiple people while not including him?
What a fucking joke. It was pathetic, the obsession with whose cock goes in whose ass.
Katsuki wouldn’t break. Not to this.
He glared, too exhausted and fucked out to do much else as Shindou’s hand came down on the center of his chest. Katsuki didn’t like the idea of his nipples being played with yet again, and nearly breathed a sigh of relief when the palm slid down.
But he’d celebrated prematurely, because the hand stopped on Katsuki’s abdomen. And sent ripples spreading out over his stomach.
It hurt. Shindou looked overjoyed at watching his face crumple from the pain.
“Hnnnn!”
His internal organs were being scrambled, further disturbing the liquid that had amassed in his distended gut. It made him nauseous. He was gagging, ready to empty the contents of his stomach.
“What a cute noise. Let’s see if you can make it again.”
“Fuck you,” he said weakly.
This was nothing!
He was gonna be the number one hero. If he couldn’t handle this pathetic joke they considered torture, then he might as well drop out of UA.
Shindou’s next words, however, were like a death sentence.
“Guess you really want that XL cock then.”
“W-wait!” Katsuki protested. “Shindou—"
“You didn’t hesitate to jump on the three first dicks you came across. Why should I wait?”
Shindou reached for the toy.
Katsuki wanted to scream as the flesh of his hole was forcibly dilated, reaching a circumference he hadn’t thought was possible. The toy kept padding his bloated insides with fluid, sending his hips bucking from sheer agony.
There was no more pleasure. Just pure, unadulterated pain. Everything around his rim ached, but the soreness felt dull in comparison to the toy slamming into his prostate with its inflated head. He was going numb, pins and needles in his legs all the way up to his waist.
What if it caused permanent damage?
Against all odds he kept quiet, aside from the periodic “Um… uhh… umh…”’s rolling out of his mouth.
Shindou, at long last, started unzipping his fly.
“Numb his mouth or he’ll bite,” he said, calling Ponytail over.
Oh, Katsuki thought distantly. Ponytail’s is the sensory quirk.
Shindou straddled his chest and smirked down at Katsuki. He didn’t say anything as he pushed Katsuki’s head back, fingers yanking at his hair.
Ponytail’s quirk activated. Katsuki lost all feeling in his lips and his jaw slackened on cue, which allowed Shindou to pry it open with ease before pushing his dick straight in. Katsuki’s tongue could feel the disgusting slide of the flesh as it hit the back of his throat (which was also strangely numb, fucker had straight-up removed his gag reflex).
“Enjoy,” Shindou mocked, then started to vibrate his dick.
Everything became a swirl of color and Katsuki was treated to the worst deepthroating experience of his life. He was sure Shindou’s quirk was rattling his brain around in his skull, probably a few seconds away from causing head trauma, if it hadn’t already.
“Now imagine that, but in your ass,” Shindou said, pulling his cock out and grazing it along Katsuki’s cheek. “How did it feel?”
“Couldn’t feel a thing,” he mumbled, in his delirious and mind-fucked state. “Shoulda told me you had a small dick… Explains a lot.”
Naturally, this pissed off Shindou, who shoved his cock all the way back in and used his quirk for a minute longer.
Afterward, Katsuki flopped back, drooling and overcome with dizziness. His brain was totally scrambled and he was running on autopilot, barely aware of the increasing pressures on both ends of his body.
“Are you ready to beg yet?” Shindou taunted.
“Yep, I’m begging you to grow an adult-sized dick.”
Ponytail’s quirk had amplified every emotion, and that included the little ray of triumph growing inside Katsuki. Where it had come from, he had no idea. But he clung onto it, and the longer he did so, the more invincible he felt.
After deepthroating Shindou a third time, Katsuki was winded, his throat scratchy and hoarse. But he needed to say one more thing… And he wanted to see Shindou’s face when he made him snap.
“Anyone can get a vibro-dick off Amazon,” Katsuki slurred. “You’re not special, bitch.”
Shindou fisted his hair again and pulled.
“Keep that up and your ass won’t be the same after I’ve fucked you.”
Katsuki laughed. It wasn’t the reaction any of them expected.
He couldn’t help it. What did Shindou mean, ‘it wasn’t gonna be the same’? He’d already been fucked by a giant robotic monster cock. How could Shindou hope to compete? The dumb fucker hadn’t thought this plan through.
“Get over here and come on his face,” Shindou told his lackeys. “He’s bound to start begging after that.”
A deep voice spoke, sounding like it was emanating from the walls:
“Are you sure you want to do that?”
“Who’s there?!” Ponytail shouted as he spun around, while Shades made a surprised noise and jumped. The movement left his glasses askew.
The door crashed open.
“You shouldn’t have said anything,” Shinsou greeted, striding into the room.
“Who the hell are—” Shindou started to say, but he was interrupted by a black tendril snaking around his throat. The last thing Katsuki saw clearly was him being thrown across the room.
The images and sounds were mostly indistinguishable after that. He saw flashes of blue, green and red, that were hard to identify because he felt very sleepy all of a sudden.
One of the figures approached him and fiddled with his bound hands. Katsuki squinted and recognized Todoroki’s two-tone hair.
“Stop…” he mumbled. Todoroki froze. “Stop Deku,” he said, a bit louder.
Todoroki nodded and attended to the carnage ensuing on the other side of the room. Katsuki could hear Deku snarling as he beat the living daylights out of Shindou.
Then something nudged the base of the toy, and Katsuki cried out from the stinging sensation.
“Sorry, sorry!” He recognized Kirishima’s voice, as well as the blurred lump of red hair bobbing on the other end. He was fiddling with the machine.
“Get it out,” Katsuki pleaded. Kirishima was panicking so much that he broke the straps off Katsuki’s thighs rather than unbuckling them, and wrenched at the base. It worked, and he ripped out the toy.
“Fuuck.”
It hurt like hell, having it pulled out of him so quickly.
But it was out, and as Katsuki sighed in relief, he heard a crunching noise. Kirishima had crushed it between his palms then dropped the remnants to the floor.
Katsuki was too tired to be embarrassed as a mixture of fluids seeped out from between his legs.
In the corner, he could see Shinsou rounding up the other two, Todoroki reciting some weird version of the Miranda rights.
“You will go straight to Musutafu police station and report this incident to Officer Nishitera Shinsuke. You will confess to your crimes and turn yourself in, using the video you recorded as evidence…”
On the opposite end of the room, Deku’s gaze met his. But he didn’t seem to want to get near Katsuki, simply watching him from afar, his expression undiscernible. His whips were restraining a bloodied Shindou, sitting at his feet.
Katsuki realized belatedly that a dark red cape had been draped over his lap. Courtesy of Kirishima, who had just finished freeing his arms and was brushing back his hair. Katsuki sank into the touches, closing his eyes.
“You’re gonna be okay, Katsuki. You’re gonna be—”
“But I’m fine?” Katsuki said, and blacked out.
--
When he awoke in the hospital, he heard a voice say “God, finally” before a pile of letters was dumped on his lap.
“Why the fuck are you here?” Katsuki said, more tired than annoyed as he pushed himself into a sitting position.
“Only one person was allowed in the ambulance,” Shinsou explained. “And they agreed, in the spirit of fairness, that it should be me, since they all consider me to be a neutral party.”
They?
A flood of images hit him all at once. Oh, right. The whole thing still seemed like a fever dream, the three of them plus Shinsou to his rescue. He couldn't think of a more compromising position they could've found him in, pretty much seeing everything, down to the mess between his legs. One of them probably had to unstrap his feet from the stirrups, explain to the doctors about the toy…
A brief look down revealed a couple of bite marks on his collarbone, ones that weren’t covered by the hospital gown. Fuck.
“Well,” Shinsou said, whistling. “You sure know how to pick ‘em.”
“Fuck off and go home,” he said. Frustration swirled inside him at the realization that he had to be saved, again. And why the hell was Shinsou here? He wanted to be alone so he could lick his wounds in peace.
“Don’t you wanna know what happened? How we found you?” Shinsou asked.
“No.”
“Well, tough shit, because I’m gonna tell you anyway.” And he did.
They’d launched another Kamino-esque rescue mission. But moreover, Shinsou had… Done that to the entire school… For him… And although he would never admit it out loud, a great weight was lifted from his chest.
“Not a single person in school remembers?” He asked.
“No student in UA apart from your class, yes,” Shinsou said. “Unless you want me to do it for them as well?”
It was weird that Shinsou was offering. But Katsuki’d already made up his mind before he could think deeply about the implications of it.
“What’s done is done, isn’t it? Those fuckers know I’ll kill them if they tell a soul.”
“If you say so.”
Katsuki’s gaze dropped to the letters on his lap, before transferring to the pile of gifts on the bedside table, and finally landing on the identical flowers lined up on the window sill.
They were ugly, tacky looking things, bouquets of sunflowers made to look like All Might’s grinning face.
“Why are there three of the same plant on my window?”
Somehow, he knew the answer halfway into saying the question.
Shinsou did something unexpected and burst into laughter, a brief but loud “Ha!” before he composed himself.
“You were asleep. They all arrived at the exact same time, carrying the same flowers. It was the funniest thing I’d ever seen,” he said in his monotone voice, but his mouth was twitching.
Katsuki wanted to bury his face into the pillow and groan. Why is it that everything those three did had to reflect embarrassingly on him in some way?
“They left letters, too. And the rest of 1-A sent gifts.”
“I know, I’m not blind.”
Katsuki went through the gifts first.
Ojiro gave him stamps. Iida gave him some newfangled self-tracking device that had clearly been built by Hatsume. Aoyama gave a signed picture of himself and his girlfriend. Sato gave him a box of macarons. Kouda gave him an apple with a tiny, bucktoothed bite taken out of it. Shouji gave him coupons to a love hotel. Tokoyami gave him a keychain that was supposed to help in ‘harnessing healing energy’ or whatever the fuck. The girls gave him a bag of spicy sweets. Kaminari and Sero gave him explosion-proof handcuffs.
“Cut this up for me,” he said, tossing the apple at Shinsou.
“Asshole,” Shinsou said, but got a plate and knife from the food tray anyway.
Katsuki dreaded going through the stack of cards. Thankfully, most of them were generic “Get well soon!” ones, but upon breezing through those, there were four rather thick envelopes left.
Who the hell bullied everyone into writing him letters?! Come to think of it, it seemed exactly like something the girls would do.
Why did they have to come up with such bizarre ways to communicate with him?
Surprisingly, the first of the long letters was a handwritten message from Kaminari and Sero, clearly written at gunpoint. Mina was probably breathing down their necks as they wrote it.
Dear Bakugo,
We would like to sincerely apologize for the way we treated you. The truth is, we think you’re really awesome. We think it’s cool that you were somehow able to seduce three of the toughest guys in class using death threats alone. That takes skill, man. Respect. Anyway, we know you don’t like to hang with us a lot, and Kirishima that other guy may be our friend, but always remember that you’re our friend, too. Our fault for not making it more obvious. So talk to us whenever. Even if it’s about butt stuff.
-Kaminari & Sero
That other guy? What, did they think he’d burst out crying from reading Kirishima’s name or something?
The second was from (surprise, surprise) Todoroki, written in elegant script in a card that was emblazoned with the Todoroki family watermark and crest.
It was one of the stranger letters he’d received, sounding exactly like Todoroki and yet in some aspects, nothing like him.
Bakugo,
I realize that in my pursuit of you I may have been too forward with my affections. I apologize as I did not take into account your delicate sensibilities :( I realize now that the best thing to do is to give you the space you sorely need. :) That time we engaged in copulation will always be one of my favorite memories, one I will cherish for the rest of my life. The truth is that I like you whether or not we are consciously participating in intercourse. I like watching you laugh and make fun of me even if I don’t get it half the time LOL. But I clearly have a lot to learn. At the very least, I would like to remain friends, and once again want to reiterate that I am here for you. We are both in the ‘remedial squad’, don’t forget that. I am thankful to have been your paramour, even if it had only been for a short while.
Sincerely,
Todoroki Shouto aka “Shouto” (Hero name)
P.S. Camie helped me write this, she said I sounded too serious and that I should put more smiley faces to properly convey how I’m feeling. I hope they worked. And Inasa keeps telling me to ask you to hang out. They won’t stop until you say yes. :D
The next was Kirishima’s, a short message in a simple red card. Its presence alone surprised Katsuki. He knew for a fact that Kirishima hated writing. At least he was finally putting those tutoring sessions to good use.
Katsuki,
I should’ve been there for you man, I’m not good at writing stuff like this sorry and I’m even less good at the emotional shit stuff. Just wanted to say I’ll always love you, we’re best friends through thick and thin, right? Having you go missing again was the single most terrifying moment of my life and I’m sorry it took another incident like that for me to snap out of it and see the bigger picture. I realized on the balcony that you were saying sorry all along. I forgive you, you know. You were right all along bro, we should’ve kept it a secret and I only have myself to blame for what happened to you. I hope you forgive me but if you don’t then that’s ok, I’d understand.
-Eijirou
He was dreading the last one, imagining an essay full of crazed ramblings and diagrams. But it was the least Deku-like letter he’d seen, only four paragraphs (which was short by Deku’s standards) written neatly on what looked like a torn page from a notebook. The edges of the paper were browned, and parts of the paper were stained, some letters blurred by circular imprints of drops.
Stupid Deku putting in zero effort as usual.
Kacchan,
On the day you went missing, I had a long talk with our mighty pal. He made me realize a lot of things about myself that I wish I’d known sooner.
And I guess that’s why I love you, because you picked up on these things too, way before I did. In fact, you’ve always known me better than I know myself. Anyway, in light of recent incidents, our large mentor decided that I should leave for I Island ASAP, so I can start working with David S (you know him) on controlling my qu temperament.
I don’t know when I’ll return, but I hope to be able to do so soon. I also know it’s for the best because the last thing I want to do is hurt you again.
Lastly, I burned the notebook, you know the one. I was hesitant to, since it’s a relic of our shared past. But it seemed fitting somehow, finishing the job you started in middle school. Even though it has a lot of sentimental value to me, I know that it was the least I could do for your sake.
Love, Izuku
From, Deku
“Oh, God.” Shinsou’s voice broke the silence immediately after Katsuki shakily sealed the letter back into its envelope. “You’re not about to cry, are you?”
“I’m not crying, fuck off,” he snapped.
“You’re about to.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Katsuki snarled, throwing the closest thing he could get his hands on at Shinsou, which happened to be the handcuffs Sero and Kaminari gave.
Shinsou bent sideways on his chair to dodge the item. “You did notice it, right? Kirishima’s made you smile, Todoroki’s made you laugh, Midoriya’s made you try to look angry but you were actually trying to hide your tears…”
Katsuki threw another object (Tokoyami’s keychain).
Shinsou wouldn’t leave. It was annoying, and didn’t make sense why he was there from nine to five like it was his goddamn job. Sure, it was helpful to an extent, because Katsuki’s every body part, especially his legs and ass, still burned whenever he moved.
Shinsou playing nursemaid meant he didn’t have to get up as much. In between yelling at him to go home at least once an hour, he mostly had the other student fetch things.
“You think I want to hold your IV bag every time you pee?” Shinsou grumbled, the tenth time Katsuki told him to go away.
The doctors had told him that, miraculously, there was only slight bruising down there. And apart from a minor concussion, he was pretty much fine.
They mentioned specifically, though, that he should refrain from having sex for at least a month, and Katsuki cursed at them for suggesting that he would immediately jump on dick right after going through that. Shinsou couldn’t stop snickering.
A fake cock had almost literally torn him a new asshole, so sex definitely wasn’t on the menu right now. He’d narrowly avoided being fucked by Shindou, and for that he felt strangely relieved. Wasn’t that weird? That being fucked by a machine had been objectively worse, but he still believed he got off easy just ‘cause his ass was spared from Shindou’s dick?
He had vehemently insisted that there was nothing to read into about his choice of sexual partners. That sex was just sex. But… No matter what his initial reasons for fucking them were, he was ultimately content with his choices. He didn’t regret them.
He would’ve regretted Shindou. Even if Shindou had asked him out first, instead of kidnapping him and strapping him to a birthing chair.
And he supposed there was a clear distinction between the three and Shindou, that made one side appealing (and worthy of getting in bed with) and the other completely repulsive, that he had yet to figure out.
But still… No regrets.
His parents visited early morning the next day. Katsuki hadn’t told them what really happened, the official explanation being that he “had an altercation with a student from a different school”. His mom seemed to have an inkling though, because she held back on the insults.
But when she spotted the trio of flowers, a feline grin spread over her face and Katsuki’s heart dropped to his stomach.
Fuck.
“Who gave you these?” She said sweetly, and his poor dad just stood there confused, oblivious to the tension brewing in the room.
“Ordered ‘em,” Katsuki said.
His mom snorted. “Don’t kid yourself. I was leaving the hospital when they arrived. You’ve got interesting tastes, I’ll give you that.”
As Katsuki sputtered out a response, the door slid open and Shinsou walked in.
“And who’re you?” She asked. Shinsou looked taken aback to see her, his eyes a fraction wider than they were usually as he stared at her, then at Katsuki.
“Nobody,” Katsuki answered.
“Well, ‘nobody’, thank you for taking care of my brat. I hope he’s not leading you on as well?”
“Fuckin’ go home already, you hag!” Katsuki exploded, swinging a pillow at her.
“Shut up, you little shit!” she yelled back. “Choose one already instead of being a tease!”
Once they left, a slow grin crept on Shinsou’s face.
“Shut up,” Katsuki said.
“I didn’t say anything.”
Aizawa visited on the day he was discharged.
“You can go now,” he told Shinsou as he walked in. “Thanks for agreeing to do this.”
Katsuki realized that Aizawa was the one who’d put Shinsou on guard duty. Lame. But Shinsou now looked reluctant to leave, hovering near the door until Katsuki spoke.
“He can stay. He practically knows everything, anyway.”
Aizawa didn’t argue. As usual, he jumped straight to business.
“You don’t have to take the pill anymore, and UA will pretend this never happened seeing as they’d rather close down than have to admit that they let the same student get kidnapped twice.”
Katsuki opened his mouth, and then closed it. Well.
That means all of his problems were essentially… Resolved?
“And your inquiry?” He asked instead.
“Didn’t push through,” Aizawa said. “But that isn’t any of your concern. I’m here today to ask you, Bakugo, what I can do for you.”
“What?”
Aizawa rifled through his pocket, and pulled out two business cards.
“If there’s anything you need, let me know. And since I know you hate to ask for help, I did the hard part for you.”
Katsuki saw the title ‘Quirk Specialist’ on one, ‘Professional Counselor’ on the other. He wrinkled his nose, to which Aizawa sighed.
“I’m not forcing you to go. But always know that you have those options available to you.”
“Thanks, I guess,” he said.
“By the way, since 1-B’s memory was wiped, they have absolutely no recollection of the soiree that took place, and are insisting on holding a joint homecoming celebration with your class.”
“Why should that matter to me?”
“1-A left the choice up to you on whether it should push through or not. They understand that you might be uncomfortable around 1-B, so if it doesn’t sound like something you can handle, just say so.”
The fact that everyone was treating him with kid gloves, assuming he’d be sensitive about the weirdest shit, was annoying. Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Just let them have their stupid party, jeez.”
Apparently, according to hospital policy he had to leave the premises in a wheelchair. Even though he could walk just fine. Shinsou lorded this detail over him all the way to the lobby. People were staring at him, mostly because of the three huge All Might bouquets in his lap.
He’d been wanting to chuck them ever since he’d left the room, but Shinsou, knowing that he would, made sure to steer him far away from any trashcan in the vicinity.
“Here,” Shinsou said, buying a blue flower from a kiosk and adding it to the pile on Katsuki’s lap. “For variety.”
“Get this shit off me,” he complained.
“Don’t assume I’m hitting on you, though,” Shinsou said behind him, as they made their way to the exit.
“Who fucking brought it up in the first place, asshole?!”
“But if I was, I wonder, would I have to battle your ex-boyfriends for your hand? Because I’m afraid that would end terribly for me.”
“They’re not all my ex-boyfriends. And if you’re gonna be in class 1-A, don’t say you’d lose like some kind of moron.”
--
“We broke up. Kaminari, he—he means well, but I don’t think he’s ready for a girlfriend. And maybe I wasn’t ready to handle a boyfriend then, either.”
The girls of 1-A and 1-B had crammed themselves onto one set of couches in the common room, and were trading dating stories as Katsuki walked by. There had certainly been a marked difference in the girls’ dispositions over the past week. They seemed way more at ease, more eager to joke around with the boys, less covered up. It was amazing the effect one person’s absence (Mineta) could have.
Uraraka made eye contact with him and patted a spot on the couch next to her, but Katsuki just snorted and kept walking.
Yaoyorozu’s voice, regaling how Awase had asked her out a few days ago (to which the rest of the girls started cooing), faded into the background as he made his way to the other side of the room.
His path to the kitchen was rife with obstacles.
A group of teachers, which included Present Mic and Midnight, were hanging out near the stairs because apparently they could no longer hold interclass events without a chaperone present. Vlad King in particular was eyeing him balefully, and he resisted the urge to give him the finger.
Tetsutetsu tried to ambush him with compliments, weirdly jovial even for him. He looked tipsy, but… How? Katsuki made a mental note to stay away from any of the drinks.
Then Todoroki walked right up to him and shoved a phone in his face.
“It’s Camie and Inasa,” he said, as if Katsuki wouldn’t recognize their faces on the screen.
“Bakugoooooo,” Inasa thundered, his giant mouth taking up half the screen. They appeared to be on some random street, calling him in the middle of a patrol for some ungodly reason. Camie was bouncing beside him, trying to make herself seen.
“You better be there next time, alright?” She demanded. “We’re not gonna stop inviting you until you say yes!”
“I'll think about it,” he said. The screen shimmered, and then a very sparkly, and (for some reason) a very deep-voiced, angular-faced Todoroki took up the screen.
“Bakugo, you know you want to hang out with us,” he said. “It’ll be the experience of a lifetime. And then right after that, you and I can book a private room and make sweet lo—”
“Fuck!”
Katsuki couldn’t help but laugh – stupid Camie and her illusions.
“I said I’ll think about it, alright?!” He yelled before ending the call, then pelted the phone at Todoroki’s face (he caught it in time, of course).
Katsuki checked on the roast beef in the oven. Everyone agreed on potluck, and it was his one contribution to the party, while providing the perfect excuse for ducking out every now and then, whenever things got too loud.
He was enjoying having the kitchen all to himself when Deku walked in, carrying three tables with ease.
“I had to take these ones back, there are too many out the—Oh, Kacchan!” He dropped everything to the floor.
There was a moment of silence.
“How are you doing?” Deku said quietly, closing the distance between them.
It was the oven next to him, Katsuki told himself, that was making him feel this warm.
He couldn’t recall the last time they had talked, he and… Any one of the three. Knowing he was going to face them all tonight, he was tempted to take one last pill before the party. As a safety measure.
“You’re fully packed?” He asked.
“Yeah.”
Everyone was leaving the dorms tomorrow, to head home for the break. In a few months, they would come back as 2nd years. Everyone except Deku, who was going to take a flight straight to I Island with All Might.
“How long is it gonna take?”
“Depends on how fast I progress,” Deku said, his expression pained. “Maybe months. Could be… Years…”
Silence.
“I love you,” Deku said, and Katsuki levelled him with a blank stare. “I know you don’t love me back, but do you think you could, someday…? If I changed…?”
“If we were the last two people on earth, maybe.”
“So if we were,” Deku said, his eyes brightening with hope. “You’d love me?”
Shit. Abort, abort—
“Scratch that,” Katsuki said. “I’d rather sew my own ass shut.”
Deku didn’t stop smiling.
“You and I both know the biggest problem is you, not your quirk,” Katsuki said, resentment clear in his voice. “Fix it before anything else.”
“I will.”
Deku’s hug knocked all the air out of Katsuki’s lungs. He couldn’t decide whether it was unsettling or comforting, having a familiar chest pressed to his own, arms wrapped around his middle.
He knew he was being hypocritical, ragging on Deku when he needed just as much help controlling his quirk. He was thinking of seeing the Quirk Specialist, so that he could get his leaking under control and it would stop being used against him, to gauge his emotions or whatever.
Deku had been the one to plan his rescue. Deku had also engineered a way to reset his reputation. And the worst part was? Deku didn’t even bring it up. Didn’t lord it over Katsuki. And Katsuki hadn’t thanked him, or so much as spoken to him, not until tonight. Instead he was pushing him out the door, effectively having gotten Deku removed from UA for the timebeing.
A familiar guilt washed over him.
Still wrapped in the hug, their faces were nearly touching. Katsuki realized then how close Deku’s lips was, how, maybe, the poor nerd would benefit from a consolation prize, of some sort…
“You don’t have to, Kacchan,” Deku said, seemingly reading his mind. He released him and backed away.
“Stop – stop giving away your body away as a reward. If we ever sleep together again, I want it to be because you want to. Not out of a sense of obligation.”
“Whatever, nerd,” he said lamely, falling back to old habits because, really, what was he supposed to say that?
He wondered what Deku would look like when he came back, and had an annoying feeling the fucker was due for a growth spurt soon. He imagined an All Might-sized Deku, but still with that same cherubic face, freckles and doting expression. Terrifying and grotesque. The image sent chills down his spine.
He wasn’t slicking up just yet, but there was a warm stirring in his gut that was reminiscent of the feeling.
“Hey Katsuki, we— uh, sorry, am I interrupting something?”
Of course it had to be Kirishima who walked in. Katsuki gave Deku one last lingering look – taking in the green of his eyes, their dark centers, before turning around.
“Pfft, as if. What do you want, Shitty Hair?”
“Tetsu brought over a new racing game,” Kirishima said, features morphing into a grin. “Wanna tagteam?”
“You’re on.”
They easily beat Tetsutetsu and Kendou, who made way for Kaminari and Jirou to battle them next. There was a delay in between the matches, as Kaminari kept apologizing becase he had instinctively wrapped his arm around Jirou, before remembering they were no longer together.
Jirou took it in stride, laughing at his panicked expression.
“Now it’s the battle of the exes,” Sero said.
Mina jabbed his arm, while everyone looked nervously at Kirishima and him, visibly checking whether that was okay to say.
“Sexes! I meant sexes!”
“That doesn’t make sense! I’m the only girl playing!” Jirou huffed.
Kirishima looked sheepish, but Katsuki just shrugged and took the controller from his ex-boyfriend’s hands.
It was a massacre, and soon the room was filled with sounds of Jirou and Kaminari bantering, playfully blaming each other for their loss.
“Beach?” Kirishima said in his ear. “What do you think, Katsuki?”
“Ha?”
Turns out Katsuki had spaced out, in the middle of Sero inviting the whole class to his uncle’s beach house.
He made a non-committal sound, and Kirishima laughed. “C’mon, it’ll be fun!”
Katsuki grumbled and focused on the game.
Why does everyone keep inviting him to attend shit?
As they crushed a duo of extras from 1-B, Kirishima’s elbow had somehow made its way to his knee, using it as a cushion. Katsuki didn’t say anything, because it was useless to complain about that when their sides were warmly pressed together, despite having the couch to themselves.
It got a little easier to breathe, though, when Kirishima stood up to get appetizers.
Apparently there was a thing called ‘Homecoming King and Queen’. And the ceremony included an official “handing off” by the former royalty.
Yaoyorozu and Awase won, and were stood in the middle of the common room, Katsuki and Todoroki made to wait behind them.
“Todoroki, do you have the crowns?” Mina called.
“Right here,” Todoroki said.
Crowns?
Katsuki scowled as a tiara was shoved into his hands. His tiara from prom.
“Oi, why’d you have to be so tall?” he grumbled at Yaoyorozu as he plopped the tiara on her head. She blushed, Awase kissed her on the cheek, and their classmates started whooping like monkeys.
Amidst the chaos, Todoroki was still holding the crown above Awase’s head, but he was looking at Katsuki and… He winked.
Katsuki reddened, his insides turning molten.
Cocky fucker.
It was starting to feel stuffy. He needed air, so he marched toward the front door.
“He can handle himself, don’t you think so?” He heard Todoroki telling Deku. Did they really think he didn’t notice their whispering?
“But Kacchan—”
“Come on. Mina’s teaching everyone how to do the conga.”
Katsuki sat on the porch.
He had about two minutes of peace before another person decided to interrupt his alone time.
This time, it was Shinsou.
“Why,” he said, as Shinsou sat down beside him.
“There was a game of 7 Minutes In Heaven, but then everyone realized there were no closets around, so they just made us go outside. Tsuyu and I got picked. She’s out here somewhere, chasing fireflies.”
“This class is so full of idiots,” Katsuki snorted. “Guess you’ll fit right in.”
He already had some ideas for nicknames: Eyebags. Second-hand troll doll. Narcoleptic. Droopy. Basset-hound-looking fucker. Barney. Cheshire cat.
Shinsou shrugged, his hand moving toward his pocket.
“Smoking’s not allowed here.”
For some reason, that set Shinsou off.
“Dammit, what is it about my appearance that makes everyone assume I smoke?”
“You look like a crack addict. Weird-ass purple hair, deceased eyes. Like an unemployed clown.”
“You’re one to talk, Barbie.”
“Barbie?!” Katsuki sprang to his feet. “You calling me dumb just because I’m blond?”
“I’m not calling you dumb. I’m calling you dumb and annoying. You’re all the same. There’s Kaminari—”
“Kaminari’s dumb not because he’s blond, but because he’s Kaminari!”
“Monoma—”
“Annoying regardless of hair color.”
“Look, will you just sit down?” Shinsou pulled him by the arm, and Katsuki relented just this once because the fucker did save his reputation.
“Listen,” Shinsou said. “You don’t have a hero name yet, right? I thought up of a good one.”
But Shinsou cupped a hand around his ear and said, in a mock-whisper.
“Bombshell.”
He deflected Katsuki’s blasts with moves annoyingly reminiscent of Aizawa’s fighting style, and kept on talking as if nothing happened. “You could straddle missiles in photoshoots. No need to thank me. Seriously, don’t.”
Katsuki stretched out his arm, in preparation for another fiery smack.
“Thank y—?!” He said, but Shinsou caught his arm, dragged him close, and kissed him.
It was a simple press of lips, before the other male was shoving him back.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” he said tonelessly. “Just needed to check.”
“Check what!” His hands were shaking, still trying to comprehend exactly what just happened.
“Whether the fake would be similar to the real deal. I lost my first kiss to an illusion because of you.”
As usual, Shinsou wasn’t making any sense, making Katsuki all the more confused and enraged.
“What the fuck are you talking about?!”
“Oh, right. I did leave that part of the rescue mission out.”
He took out his phone, and started scrolling through his photo album. His eyes glinted dangerously and for the second time that night, Katsuki had a phone shoved in his face.
“A souvenir from our little adventure.”
Katsuki stared at the horrifying image. It had him in the middle of a hospital bed, surrounded by Todoroki and Deku and Kirishima who looked… Upset? But were all otherwise engaged with various parts of his anatomy.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT? DELETE!” He screeched, trying to grab the phone.
“Alright, alright, I am! See?” Shinsou held it at arms’ length, but from afar Katsuki could see his thumb dragging the offending picture toward an icon of a garbage can.
“So that just leaves one more loose end then.”
“Fucking hell, what now?” Katsuki groaned, as Shinsou pulled out yet another batch of items, seemingly from nowhere.
What was he, a street magician?
There were three pieces, which Shinsou tossed at the grass in front of them.
“The last remaining copies of Quirk Sex. Took them from Monoma’s room.”
Oh. Okay. Fuck. He hadn’t… Asked for this, so. He wasn’t sure what to say.
“Do the honors?” Shinsou said after a pause, gesturing toward the pile.
Katsuki raised his palm and smirked.
“Hell yeah.”
And as the pages crumpled in the fire, Katsuki and Shinsou watched side by side, enjoying the warmth the flames gave off as Quirk Sex was put to bed once and for all.
It wasn’t a clean slate, or a new beginning or anywhere close to the end, but it was enough.
-Fin-
Notes:
EDIT (12/19/20): Oh god, I just discovered I accidentally wrote "Shinsou" as "Shindou" thrice in the last scene. Anyway...
It's been a pleasure writing this! I'm sorry the final chapter is insanely long, but I hope it delivered. This fic started out as an idea in my head in about 2018, and I finally had time to write it (ironically) when the pandemic hit. It became my escape from a lot of things, and I'm happy to say that this is the longest fic I've ever written, and the first chaptered fic I've finished in almost ten years.
Since this fic has been kicking around in my head for 2 years, it became a habit of mine to think about what direction it would go in before I went to sleep. I'm happy to say that very little changed from the original plot to the final one. I knew what the last scene (Shinsou and Bakugo) was gonna be from the moment I started writing Chapter 1, so you can actually go back to previous chapters and see bits of foreshadowing, which I'm quite proud of. I've never plotted a fic this complicated before, and had to constantly reference my notes to make sure that I didn't mess up the chronology of scenes. There's actually up to 10 pages of dialogue that never made it in, that I don't know what to do with now.
On Kirishima, I'd say he was the 'love interest' who changed the least from my initial thoughts to the final draft, whereas I was surprised to see how polarizing Deku was, but I loved seeing everyone's reactions to his antics. The one whose role ended up significantly expanded was Todoroki's, who wasn't originally gonna play as big a role as Deku / Kirishima. But his own awkward love for Bakugo blossomed on its own, I guess. And, of course, there's Bakugo, whose scenes and dialogue had been mostly written since the beginning and yet for me, were the most challenging to write. Still, It was really fun to dive into his head and explore his reasons for having sex.
Again, thank you to everyone who read and commented! No words will ever express how grateful I am to read every comment, and to see every fanwork created for this fic. I appreciate how supportive and honest my commenters have been since the beginning, how you've all been offering constructive criticism, sharing your own stories, and doing character analyses. You don't realize how often I'd reread comments whenever I felt stuck. Seriously, you guys are the best, and I hope you enjoyed this ride as much as I did.
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