Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7237444.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      僕のヒーローアカデミア_|_Boku_no_Hero_Academia_|_My_Hero_Academia
  Relationship:
      Bakugou_Katsuki/Kirishima_Eijirou, Bakugou_Katsuki/Midoriya_Izuku,
      Kirishima_Eijirou/Midoriya_Izuku, Bakugou_Katsuki/Kirishima_Eijirou/
      Midoriya_Izuku, Bakugou_Katsuki/Todoroki_Shouto, Midoriya_Izuku/Todoroki
      Shouto, Bakugou_Katsuki/Uraraka_Ochako, Midoriya_Izuku/Uraraka_Ochako,
      Katsuki/Eijirou/Izuku/Shouto/Ochako, look_its_basically_a_big_poly_fest
      of_the_five_of_them_ok
  Character:
      Bakugou_Katsuki, Kirishima_Eijirou, Midoriya_Izuku, Todoroki_Shouto,
      Uraraka_Ochako, Iida_Tenya, Midoriya_Inko, Todoroki_Enji_|_Endeavor
  Additional Tags:
      Fighting, Fight_Club_esque, Underground_Brawling, Polyamory, Blood,
      Blowjobs, Semi-Public_Sex, semi-public_blowjobs, dont_stalk_your_friends,
      Fluff_and_Smut, a_touch_of_crack, Third_Year, they're_all_17_so_its
      technically_underage, but_its_consentual_17yr_olds, Adrenaline_Junkies_to
      an_extent, Kirishima_is_excited, Bakugou_is_the_champion, Midoriya_did
      not_expect_this, Todoroki_spites_his_father, Uraraka_is_just_tryin_to
      make_a_little_dough, the_fighting_isn't_super_detailed_bc_im_not_abt_that
  Collections:
      Boku_no_Hero_Academia_|_My_Hero_Academia
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-06-29 Updated: 2016-12-27 Chapters: 2/4 Words: 17053
****** bloodsport ******
by Ramabear_(RyMagnatar)
Summary
     One night, Izuku follows Katsuki into a warehouse. When he goes home
     again, everything is different and yet, somehow, it feels like
     nothing has changed at all.

     One afternoon, Shouto gets involved in something far more complicated
     than he anticipated when all he wanted to know for sure was who was
     involved with whom. When he goes home again, nothing is the same and
     he wouldn't change a thing.
      
     One evening, Ochako looks up to meet eyes with an unexpected group
     and grins at them, blood fresh on her face. When she finally gets
     home, there's no way in hell she'd ever go back to the way things
     were before, even if it means she has to deal with Katsuki's and
     Shouto's bickering.
     (One morning, Katsuki says things he shouldn't, Eijirou has way too
     much fun in a muscle shirt, Ochako radiates smugness like sunlight
     and Izuku's only somewhat apologetic- but not really. Shouto only
     wishes he had immortalized the moment on film.)
***** gore *****
It starts with Kirishima.
Izuku’s pretty observant, he always has been, really. So when one of his
classmates comes into school with a black eye, a busted lip that keeps bleeding
because he keeps grinning, and no story to go with the beaten face, he notices
it. He notices that it happened on a Wednesday morning. He notices that Katsuki
hovered around Kirishima like he didn’t know what the hell had happened either.
The only thing Kirishima will say about it is “You should see the other guy”
and give a thumbs up. One of their teachers asks if he needs to go to the
infirmary to get it checked up on and he brushed that off.
Izuku never hears exactly what happened to Kirishima, so he tried to put it out
of his mind.
That worked until two weeks later, when Katsuki comes into class with his own
split lip and a bruise on his cheek that’s got the suspicious indentations of
knuckles. Both of his hands are bandaged up and he elbows and play-shoves
Kirishima all day. Both of them smirk and laugh at some inside joke and it’s
the most pleasant Katsuki has been since the beginning of the year. Izuku tries
not to notice that, really, he does, but as with all things Katsuki related,
Izuku can’t help but pay attention.
At age four or seventeen years, Katsuki is still someone Izuku looks up to and
admires. Nearly three years at Yuuei hasn’t changed that fact at all.
That’s probably why, late Tuesday evening, a couple of weeks after Katsuki
comes in with that first pair of bloody knuckles Izuku is here, tailing him
from a few blocks behind like some sort of half-assed private detective.
Normally he’d be home now, but his mom sent him out for a last minute purchase
and, well. It was Katsuki.
Katsuki in a sleeveless shirt, grinning and hurrying down the street with his
hands in his pockets. He had the same expression that he wore when they were
going out for training battle matches, which generally meant a lot of
explosions. Izuku followed without thinking about it and it wasn’t until he was
getting onto the train, a cart behind Katsuki so he wouldn’t be seen, that he
realized his mother expected him back home in ten minutes with groceries.
For a moment Izuku debates getting off at the next stop, turning around and
going to the store and then home. Then he pulls out his phone, tells his mom
he’ll be back a little later, but still with those things she asked for. She
texts back to be safe and he says he will.
(Later, he’ll realize that such words are a promise that he can’t always keep
and, honestly, he should know better than now to say them to his poor mother.)
Izuku follows Katsuki off the train, down a bunch more twisty streets and into
a part of town that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He’s
never been here, didn’t even know this washere and every little noise makes him
jump. The street lights are few and far between but he keeps following Katsuki.
He makes it in time to see Katsuki meeting Kirishima outside of a building with
boarded up windows and a nearly abandoned, overgrown parking lot. For a moment,
the two of them are silhouetted against the light from inside, black shadows
moving into it, standing close like they do at school.
Izuku hesitates, crouched behind a car, heart hammering in his chest, and,
slowly, makes his way over to the door. The closer he gets, the better he can
hear the sounds from inside. Voices and footsteps, clapping and cheering, the
pounding of feet on concrete and- punching? It sounded like it anyway. He slips
in, blinking at the sudden light, but finds that there’s only the one light in
the room. It swings from the ceiling like a beacon, leading Izuku’s gaze across
the room to a door leading downwards.
There’s a basement here, which is surprising in itself, and that’s where the
sound is coming from. He squeezes through that doorway, barely opening the door
to minimize any commotion on his part, and edges cautiously down the stairs.
He gets halfway down before he realizes what the hell is going on.
It’s an underground fighting ring. The shouting is from cheering men, watching
in a circle as two more duke it out on top of flattened pieces of cardboard
with nothing but their bare fists. Most of the occupants are shirtless and
shoeless, and most of them show signs of healing bruises on their bodies. To
keep from standing out, Izuku descends the rest of the way, as he does, he sees
Katsuki across the room but his classmate doesn’t see him.
Kirishima, Izuku sees, is near the edge of the crowd, bouncing on the balls of
his feet, right up there with the best of them, shouting and cheering, fists
balled up and pounding the air. The match that was going on when Izuku got
there ends and there’s a call out for volunteers. Izuku isn’t surprised in the
least to see Kirishima all but leap into the ring. He’s already shirtless,
grinning with fervor as another man- and unlike Kirishima’s seventeen years,
this other fighter was definitely a full grown man- steps in opposite of him.
Izuku watches as the fight starts. Wide eyed, jaw dropped open, he watches as
Kirishima, without the use of his quirk, goes in bare knuckled against his
opponent. He aims for body hits, leaving bruise after bruise across gut and
chest, on side and leg, where he knees and kicks for good measure. The man is
taller than him, clearly, but not necessarily stronger and definitely not
faster. He’s not smarter, either, as he keeps going for Kirishima’s face and
keeps missing as Kirishima ducks out of the way.
One time he’s too slow to pull back and Kirishima bites his arm, quick and
flashy, not hard enough to draw blood or do any damage, but enough to enrage
him.
It’s only a matter of a few well placed hits after that before Kirishima stands
alone in the center, arms above his head, blood dripping from his nose and
shouting his victory. The other man is helped away, off the blood spattered
cardboard and someone else, a man with blonde hair and a charming face, steps
forward to rally out another pair of fighters.
As he does, he declares this fight to be a newbie battle- first time attendees
have to come forward now.
Izuku doesn’t know why he does it- It’s probably part of his honest nature,
really- but he finds himself moving to the front of the crowd. His hands are
shaking and he’s nervous as hell, but he can’t stop himself.
He knows the moment that Katsuki sees him because those eyes burn against his
skin and there’s Katsuki's voice, rising even above the other cheers. “What the
fuck?”But Kirishima must shush him somehow because there’s nothing else after
that.
The blonde man grins, “Remember the rules to the fight. Fights are bare
knuckle. No shirt, no shoes, no weapons, no quirks. If someone yells “stop”,
goes limp or taps out, the fight is over.” He gestures to Izuku, who is still
wearing his shirt and his hoodie over it and his big red shoes. A little
embarrassed, he toes out of his shoes and socks, leaving them to the side.
Even more nervous, he shirks his shirt and jacket, dropping them onto his
shoes. He tucks his phone away into one of his shoes and hopes it’s still there
when he’s done. Then he turns to face his opponent. Beyond the shoulder of the
short, broad man, Izuku sees Kirishima give him a thumbs up. He also sees
Katsuki staring at him, narrow eyed and Izuku steels himself against that gaze.
If Katsuki wants him to fail, he won’t. He’ll prove his place in this too. Even
if he was here by accident. He’ll prove himself. Katsuki won’t outpace him.
If Katsuki can do this, so can he.
 
===============================================================================
 
Izuku doesn’t remember much of the fight.
Fighting without use of his quirk is something he does most of the time anyway.
Sure, these days he can use almost forty percent of it without injury, but it
still wasn’t quite stable. Most of his fighting has to do with his wits anyway.
Maybe the reason he doesn’t remember much about the fight is because it was
pretty short.
He could tell from the beginning that he had training while the other man did
not. He brought himself in for the fight, making himself an even smaller target
than usual while the man did nothing but smack his hands together a few times
and grin at him. Despite the bluster, he looked nervous, like he was going to
be sick. His gaze kept dropping from Izuku’s face to his bare torso. Izuku
tried not to be self-conscious about it, he really did.
Part of the reason he could handle so much more of his quirk these days was
because, well, his body was getting better built all the time. Kirishima was
pretty ripped, sure, but Izuku knew for a fact that he personally had more
definition than that. The man he was fighting had a barely defined abdominal
section at all.
Izuku only thought it fair that he end it quick. He wasn’t really supposed to
be there, shouldn’t have followed Katsuki at all, but now he was here and,
well. There was no getting around it. Izuku seriously outclassed his opponent.
Maybe that was why the man tapped out after he went down to his knees, ragged
for breath, clutching his stomach, after a few hits. Izuku stepped back, looked
to the apparent boss, and accepted the victory with a nervous little smile. He
thought, he hoped really, that one fight would be enough.
That was not the case.
There was no satisfaction with a bloodless bout.
When someone came forth to challenge him immediately after his first fight,
Izuku hesitated for a moment. Then he met Katsuki's gaze, red eyes burning, a
smug smile on his face. As if he knew, he knew for a fact,that Izuku would back
out and say no.
Izuku licked his lips, wiped sweat from his forehead and gestured for his new
opponent to come on. He didn’t care what he had to do to prove himself to be
Katsuki 's equal but he would do it. He would.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
  
The taste of iron fills his mouth, the smell of it so deep in his nose it’s
like he’s breathing it in, is unfamiliar to Izuku. He’s had a lot of injuries
in his life, but nothing quite like a fist to the face. Especially not one that
had been on the end of that tree-trunk like arm. Izuku, dizzy, worried about
concussion, thinking blearily about how he’d promised to be safe, fell back and
tapped out. The fight had ended immediately after that but as soon as he had
vacated the center, his belongings gathered in one arm while the other was
cupped over his mouth and nose, another one began.
Izuku made it to the back of the crowd, found a wall and sat against it. He
gasped for breath, spat out blood and leaned forward so his bloodied nose
didn’t drip down his throat. He didn’t know how long he sat there, knees up and
his head resting just between them, before there was a tap at his shoulder.
Looking up, he saw Kirishima crouched beside him. “Hey, Midoriya! That was
incredible!”
“Huh?” He blinked. What was Kiri- Oh. Right. Kirishima had been the reason for
this, since Katsuki had come all this way to see him. Izuku had actually
forgotten that there had been a reason for being here other than fighting.
“Dude, you are totally spaced out,” Kirishima turned and called, “Hey! Katsuki!
Toss me the water bottle!”
“Tch,” was the verbal response. Katsuki dug into a deep pocket of his cargo
pants and tossed a plastic bottle at them. Kirishima caught it and twisted the
cap off. He held it out to Izuku.
“Wash some of that blood out and then drink. You never realize how dehydrated
you get down here until way too late if you’re not careful.” Kirishima smiled
to Izuku. Izuku took the proffered bottle and did as was suggested. The blood
ran strangely smooth down his throat and he turned out to be far thirstier than
he’d thought.
With half the bottle drained, he handed it back. “Thanks.”
“No problem!” Kirishima tucked the bottle away. “What are you even doing here,
man? How’d you find out about this place?”
“Uh,” Izuku glanced to Katsuki, but he was busy watching the fight. “I saw
Kacchan,” he said quietly, “And followed him?”
“No way, really? I guess that explain why you came here dressed in so much
clothing. Most of us hardly bother with a shirt these days, let alone a
jacket.” Kirishima settled down beside him, legs crossed. “You still fought
though, and what a fight! You got five tap outs alone! That was amazing!”
“Five?” Izuku blinked. “Oh.” No wonder he felt so tired. “Is that, uh, common?”
“Not really? I mean, sometimes? When a new guy comes in and he’s a tough nut,
the bossman lets him fight a few extra rounds. I mean, the point is to get a
little battered and bruised. If you’re good at fighting, that’s harder to do.”
He jerked a thumb towards Katsuki, “Blasty over there usually gets two or three
fights before he gets really fucked up. He’s only gotten better since this
whole thing started, though. Sometimes he doesn’t fight at all since he likes
to only fight people who give him a challenge.”
Izuku’s gaze was drawn to Katsuki's back. He was shirtless, the muscles on his
back standing out whenever he shifted. They flexed from time to time, as though
Katsuki were tensing up and then relaxing while he watched. His arms were
crossed over his chest and he was barefoot. Izuku couldn’t quite take his eyes
off of the line of his shoulders. There was a scar across the back that Izuku
remembered seeing still pink and fresh during their second year. He never found
out what had caused it, since it had happened during a field experience week.
Despite the fact that they could actually talk to each other without Katsuki
shouting for him to die or Izuku wanting to shrink away or cry, they still
weren’t exactly friendly.
Suddenly, Katsuki was walking forward. He wasn’t as tall as some of the others
so he quickly vanished into the crowd. Kirishima stood, grinning. “He’s going
to fight!”
Izuku felt a desperate clutch in his chest. He struggled to rise. Kirishima
caught his arm and helped him up. “You want to watch too?”
“Yeah.”
“C’mere,” Kirishima said, pulling him forward. They pushed their way through
the crowd, Kirishima leading the way. When they stood at the inner edge, he
stopped. Punching a fist into the air, he shouted, “Punch his fucking face in,
Blasty!”
Katsuki gave him an irritated look that only turned darker when he caught sight
of Izuku. He narrowed his eyes, lifted his chin slightly and rolled his
shoulders, stretching them for his fight. Dismissing Izuku from his focus with
a little shake of his head, Katsuki turned his attention to his opponent. The
man in front of him was tall as a pole, as wiry as a steel cable and had a
narrow, pointed jaw.
Cracking his knuckles, Katsuki growled out, “Bring it on, fucker.”
They clashed in the middle of the circle, grappling, punching, with Katsuki
spitting curses the whole time. It was brutal. It was much nastier than the
fight that Izuku had seen Kirishima in. Katsuki fought with every inch of his
body and it was clear that his opponent had some skill as well. There were
blocks, counters, and quick twists of the body to both dodge and strike.
At one point, Katsuki dropped to the ground to avoid a sweeping leg, rolled
onto his back and flipped up to his feet in a feat of acrobatics that had
Izuku’s breath caught in his throat. He barely saw Katsuki's opponent. His gaze
was riveted on Katsuki.
He was so caught up in watching that he wasn’t aware he was shouting, cheering,
along with the crowd until Katsuki drew first blood. The tall man staggered
back, spitting blood onto the floor and Izuku had both fists in the air as he
shouted, “Fuck him up, Kacchan! Fuck him up!”
Kirishima was right beside him, shouting his own encouragement. Izuku was
filled with adrenaline and giddiness. It burst through him like a flood of
water over the edge of a broken dam. He shouted and cheered and screamed even
louder when Katsuki got a successful hit in.
Katsuki  brought joined hands down across the man’s shoulder and dropped him
like a stone. He stood over the, still breathing, still barely conscious, body
and gasped for his own breath. His bare chest was mottled with growing bruises
and glinting with sweat. Slowly, he lifted his gaze from his fallen opponent
and locked eyes with Izuku.
Izuku would never forget the utterly confident grin that Katsuki gave him. It
burned like a beacon, drawing Izuku into it like a moth to flame. For the first
time in years, Katsuki looked at him with all his pride and strength shining
through and none of his arrogance or derision. It was completely overwhelming.
Izuku didn’t know how to react.
Kirishima broke the moment, dashing forward to clap Katsuki on the shoulder. He
was given a roll of the eyes, a shove on the shoulder as the two of them
returned to the crowd. Izuku pulled back too, heart pounding so hard in his
chest he thought it would rip his lungs to shreds. He returned back to the
wall, where his things were, where Kirishima and Katsuki were high fiving and
drinking water.
Izuku saw that the bottle Katsuki drank from was the same one he had before.
Though it shouldn’t have mattered in the least, Izuku couldn’t stop staring,
couldn’t forget it. Katsuki smirked at him and said, “Aw, poor Deku. Was that
too brutal for the good little hero?”
Dry mouthed, Izuku licked his lips but found no moisture on his tongue. He
shook his head, though. He felt dizzy. Hot. He needed to get out of there and
back into the fresh air.
There was a chirping sound coming from his shoe by the wall. He blinked,
stumbled over to his things and crouched down. He felt flushed, like his face
was aflame and his neck was catching. Digging out his phone, he saw his mother
was calling. Izuku winced, biting the inside of his cheek as he saw the time
too. It had been over two hours since he’d left home. His mother had to be
worried sick.
Izuku glanced over his shoulder at the crowd and then up to Kirishima, “How
long do we have to stay? To the end?”
“Fuck no,” Katsuki replied for Kirishima, who was polishing off the last of his
water. “We come when we want, we leave when we’re done.” He jerked his thumb
towards the group, “They don’t try to stop us from coming or going.”
Kirishima leered at Katsuki, “They sure don’t stop us from coming at all.”
Katsuki rolled his eyes at him.
Izuku nodded. “Thanks. Um. I’ll see you guys? Bye.” Kirishima waved goodbye. He
gathered up his things quickly, slipping back into his shoes even though he
shoved his socks into his pockets. Shirtless still, he hurried up the steps,
his clothes under one arm and his phone up. He answered it at the top of the
steps, right before it stopped ringing, “Mom?”
“Izuku!” Inko cried on the other end. “Honey? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he said, even as blood dripped down his chin. “Sorry. I
must be worrying you. Don’t worry. I’m uh,” he was outside the building now,
shivering in the chill. He leaned against the brick. The rough material
scratched against his bare skin. “I came across a classmate and we got to
talking. I’ll head home soon, okay? Promise.”
“You’re really okay?” she asked, “I’m just so worried.”
“I know, Mom.  I’m really sorry. I just don’t usually see this uh, classmate
outside of school so I wanted to hang out. It was spur of the moment.”
“Next time you should invite him over. If he’s as close as the cornerstore,
then he could come visit easily!” She suggested, relief filling her voice. “But
I’m glad you’re all right. Get home as soon as you can, honey!”
“Will do,” he said. “Bye.”
She said goodbye and he hung up. Closing his eyes, Izuku crouched down and
rested his forehead against his phone. He sat like that until he heard the door
opening beside him. It opened outwards, blocking him from sight temporarily as
whoever- Oh. It was Katsuki and Kirishima. Izuku rolled his eyes at himself. Of
course it was them. He’d seen them pulling on their shirts before they were-
“The alley will be fine,” Kirishima said, “It’s a nice one, actually. I scoped
it out when I was waiting earlier.”
“Whatever,” Katsuki replied. “As long as there isn’t puke in it, I don’t give a
fuck.” Their voices fade as they go around the side of the building. The door
swung shut, slowly, and latched shut long after they’d gone. Izuku waited,
wondering if he should just go. Clearly Katsuki and Kirishima were busy and
didn’t think he was still around. They probably weren’t looking for him or
anything.
Getting to his feet, Izuku pulled his clothes back on, putting his phone in his
pocket. He took three steps away from the building before he stopped and looked
over his shoulder.
It was curiosity that drew him back. He couldn’t see the others, couldn’t hear
them, didn’t know what they were doing. He had seen them fight, had thought
that those fights were the secret, but what if they weren’t? What if there was
something more?
Izuku steeled himself against the possibility of Katsuki violently reacting to
him showing up and entered the alley.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
The only light came trickling down from above, from starlight and distant
lamps, giving the alley a bleak, grey look. Izuku crept forward, footsteps
quiet, his breath shallow, as his nerves jangled and his face ached in time to
the erratic beat of his heart. It felt like the setup for a horror movie as his
shadow stretched out in front of him and faded into the blackness of the space
between the two buildings.
He stopped when he could hear Katsuki’s voice, soft, softer than he’d ever
heard it before, but no less vulgar. “Fuck, fuck.Yeah. S’fuckin’ good,
Eijirou.”
Izuku’s heartbeat picked up. Katsuki sounded strained, panting worse than he
had been after his fight. In the darkness, he could make out another sound too,
something slick and slurping like the eating of a quickly melting popsicle.
It’s a matter of a second before Izuku’s mind connects that sound to this
location to a dozen other small details.  (Katsuki  leaning his shoulder
against Kirishima. Kirishima with his arm around Katsuki’s shoulders, leaning
in to talk to him. Kirishima smiling at Katsuki when he thought no one was
looking. Katsuki reaching for Kirishima as he walked past his desk, not to get
his attention, but just to brush his fingers against the other boy’s arm. The
shared laughter. Shared water bottles. Shared personal space.)
In a second, he’s as red faced as possible and takes a startled, shoe scuffing
step backwards. He freezes when a flash of light blossoms in the air in front
of him, briefly and sharply illuminating Katsuki and Kirishima.
Katsuki’s hand is held up above his head, the crackling of his quirk in his
palm cascading light around his shoulders like some sort of fire-summoning god.
He’s bare chested, bleeding, bruised, with his other hand twisted deep in red
hair near his hips. Kirishima’s also shirtless, kneeling on the ground, with
his hands up at Katsuki’s hips. He pulls back slowly, his mouth open, panting,
his tongue hanging out. In his hands, resting on his lips, is Katsuki’s cock.
Izuku sees all of this in flashes, lit up by Katsuki’s quirk, and it gets
burned into his brain.
He stands, half turned, one foot drawn back, ready to bolt.
His eyes struggle to pull up from Kirishima’s mouth, his flushed cheeks, his
lazily blinking eyes. Kirishima looks at him like he’s tryingto remember, he
really is, but he’s too distracted to really make the connection. Then,
suddenly, his eyes widen and he jerks back, “Midoriya!”
Izuku flinched. “Uh. S-s-sorry. I uh. Didn’t- uh.” He flinches again, going
quiet when one of Katsuki’s explosions gives off a loud crack along with its
light. He finally manages to drag his eyes down, staring down at the ground,
still frozen.
(He misses the way Eijirou tugs on the waist of Katsuki’s pants, the look he
gives him, all leering grin and bright eyed. Their red eyes meet, Katsuki rolls
his at Eijirou’s expression and pulls his lip up in a sneer. Eijirou looks
pointedly towards Izuku and then to Katsuki’s cock, which hasn’t relaxed one
bit even after they were walked in on.)
“Fine,” Katsuki said. Izuku flinched again, reflexively looking up. It’s easy
to adjust to the flickering light of Katsuki’s quirk. He’s got enough control
over it that the small pops are almost continual and blossom up to about the
same size over and over again. “Whatever you want, shithead.”
“How enthusiastic, Katsuki,” Kirishima laughed. One of his hands circled the
base of his cock, stroking it idly as he turned on his knees to look at Izuku.
“Hey, Midoriya-”
“I’m really sorry,” Izuku choked out, this time closing his eyes so he wouldn’t
stare. “I didn’t mean to follow you and see you and I won’t say anything. I’ll
just go now and-”
“Do you want to join us?”
Izuku’s thoughts ran into a brick wall at full speed. He blinked, dizzy without
even taking a step, and looked at Kirishima. His mouth dropped open. “What?”
Patiently, Kirishima repeated his question.
When Izuku only blinked, unable to answer, Katsuki sneered at him. “You’re such
a fucking moron, Deku. This isn’t a difficult fucking concept. We’re
brawlfucking.”
“Brawlfucking,” Izuku repeated. “I don’t…?”
Katsuki rubbed his face with one hand, “I told you he’d be too fucking stupid
to get it. Now will you get back to sucking my cock or have I got to take care
of every damn thing myself?”
“Your hands are full,” Kirishima said, “Besides, you’d have to turn out the
lights to do anything and then Midoriya wouldn’t be able to see me do this.”He
turned and licked up the underside of Katsuki’s cock. He sucked against the
skin, mouthing his way up to the top where he began to work the cock back into
his mouth and throat. Katsuki groaned, loudly. He arched his back off the wall,
and the light of his quirk vanished as he closed his hand into a fist.
Izuku blinked away the after images of light, his eyes adjusting slowly to the
sudden darkness. His cheeks hurt with how hard he was blushing.  The sounds
were even more obvious, now that he knew the source of them. Not only that but
they tugged on his heart and lungs, making his blood race, his breath too
quick. Izuku clutched the front of his shirt tightly, wondering why it was
suddenly so hot, so hard to breathe.
He could hear Kirishima pull back again, just from the wet pop noise and the
soft laughter that was pinned under Katsuki’s wordless groan. “You’re so hard,
Katsuki,” Kirishima teased, “Do you really like getting watched by Midoriya
that much?”
“Fuck you,”Katsuki snarled, “Shut your fucking mouth.”
“Midoriya,” Kirishima called out, “You can stay there and watch, or listen,
whatever. Or you can come join us. Seriously, Katsuki would ask himself but you
know him. Incapable of expressing himself properly.”
“I am going to explode your fucking head,” Katsuki threatened, “Do you feel
where my hands are you little shit?”
“You know,” Kirishima said, “If you asked yourself, I bet Midoriya would do
it.”
There was a heavy moment of silence.
Izuku swallowed nervously. “...Kacchan?”
Did he really want- Could he really want- If he walked over there- Would
Katsuki want him to- Izuku’s head was swimming, his stomach tight,  his body
hot, just at the thought. At the image of Kirishima around Katsuki. At
Katsuki’s face, eyes closed, lower lip caught under his teeth.
“C’mon, Deku,” Katsuki growled, “You going to perv out over there or are you
going to be fucking useful?”
“Oh my god,” Izuku whispered to himself, nearly missing Kirishima’s muttered,
“Now was that so hard?”
Trying not to think too hard about it, Izuku reached out to the wall on his
left. His fingers found the rough brick and he used it as a guide to make his
way down the alley. He could barely see, still half-blind as his eyes took
their time adjusting. He jumped when his fingers hit warm skin. A hand, rough
and hot, gripped his wrist. “I d-don’t,” he started, “Uh. I don’t know if I c-
can…”
“If you can’t fucking do this, why the fuck did you come over here?” Katsuki
asked.
“B-because,” Izuku whispered, but stopped. His tongue twisted in his mouth,
holding back whatever words he’d been trying to say.
“Just fucking kiss already,” Kirishima said. “Don’t worry about what you gotta
do, Midoriya. I’ve got everything handled down here.”
“Wh-” Izuku’s words were cut off this time when a mouth pressed hard against
his own. Katsuki kissed him, his hand on the back of Izuku’s neck, pulling him
close. Izuku braced his hand on that bare chest, standing so close to Katsuki
that he could feel Kirishima’s shoulder against his leg. What am I getting
myself into? He thought, gasping for breath when Katsuki pulled back for a
moment. Why the hell am I doing this?
Then Katsuki started kissing him again, sucking on his lower lip, sliding his
tongue into Izuku’s mouth, deepening the kiss in every way and Izuku forgot how
to question something so incredibly satisfying. He could taste blood and smell
Katsuki’s skin. He could feel Kirishima’s shoulder and one of his hands and
hear all sorts of sounds in the darkness.
He was captivated. A hand pressed against his crotch was the first time he
became aware of how tight his pants were, how much his cock hurt. Izuku groaned
into Katsuki’s mouth as fingers groped him through cloth. “Please,” he begged,
“please.”He wasn’t even quite sure what he was asking for. Kirishima to do to
him what he did to Katsuki? For someone’s hand? For the space to use his own?
Rolling his hips against that hand led to relief in the form of someone pulling
open his pants and tugging them down. Izuku sobbed in pleasure as a tongue,
Kirishima’s he had to assume since Katsuki’s mouth was affixed to his
collarbone, moved up his cock. “C’mon,” Kirishima’s voice drifted up, “Move a
lil’ closer, guys.” He tugged on Izuku’s leg, behind his thigh, and brought him
closer still to Katsuki. “There ya go.”
“Fuck,” Katsuki breathed into Izuku’s ear. “Fuck yeah.” Izuku nodded his head
in agreement, too stimulated to speak. Kirishima’s adjustment of their
positions had put him and Katsuki not just at a slight angle, but cock to cock.
Kirishima’s hands worked over the pair of them, rubbing them together with a
single minded intensity that kept pushing Izuku closer and closer to the
inevitable end.
Katsuki’s hands never seemed to stop moving over Izuku’s body. He was
insatiable, dragging dull fingernails over ribs as he explored up under Izuku’s
clothes. His calloused fingertips found Izuku’s nipples and pinched at them,
making Izuku jerk forward. Katsuki chuckled softly as he found Izuku’s
sensitive spots and teased them with sharp touches of his fingers. Izuku
quickly became a trembling mess, held up by one of Katsuki’s arms around his
waist and his own around the blonde’s shoulders.
He wanted to give a warning, any kind of warning, before he came, but between
Katsuki’s mouth over his and Kirishima’s tongue and hands, Izuku couldn’t even
think coherently enough to try. Izuku’s orgasm rolled through him like the
crest of a wave, crashing first as he rubbed forward with his hips and then
again when he whimpered out Katsuki’s name and was rewarded with curling
fingers in his hair and a soft, “Izuku,”in his ear. He sobbed in relief, his
knees slackening, legs weakening, and curled closer to Katsuki.
When rationality began to seep in, so did the knowledge that he was pressed
flush against Katsuki and neither one of them were hard anymore. Izuku panted
against Katsuki’s throat, marveling at the outright gentle way that the blond
held him with his arms low around Izuku’s back. He could feel each breath the
other boy took, especially against his abdomen, where his clothing hand been
pulled up and down for better access.
“Woah,” Kirishima said. His voice was closer now. Izuku peeked out from under
Katsuki’s chin to see him standing beside them. “Damn.” He grinned, more
visible now that Izuku’s eyes had adjusted. “Do you mind-”
“C’mere,” Katsuki muttered. He drew Izuku more to his right, using his left arm
to hook Kirishima closer. Izuku watched as Katsuki bit at Kirishima’s ear and
high up on his neck. Against that skin, he muttered, “This is what you want,
right?”
“Mnnn,” Kirishima groaned, leaning into Katsuki. His whole body seemed to rock
against the blond. His hands mirrored Izuku’s, with one around Katsuki’s
shoulder and the other on his chest. Izuku flushed, feeling the heat of
Kirishima’s skin against his own. He glanced down to see Kirishima rutting
against Katsuki’s  hip. It struck him as unfair. Kirishima had been on his
knees, had done so much with his hands and mouth, he deserved a little more
than that, didn’t he?
No sooner had Izuku thought it than his hand slid down Katsuki’s body and
skipped lightly to Kirishima’s. His breath caught in his throat as he managed
to wedge his fingers between Kirishima’s groin and Katsuki’s hip. He easily
felt the hard length he was searching for and rubbed his hand against it,
squeezing it from the outside of the cloth.
Kirishima voiced absolute delight with this action. Suddenly Izuku found his
hair being tugged on as Kirishima brought him around Katsuki enough to kiss
him. Surprised, Izuku’s hand tightened, which only started more kissing. Soon,
Izuku managed to work his hand into Kirishima’s pants and there was only thin
cloth of boxers between his palm and that hard cock. Kirishima rubbed
desperately against him, but they all traded off kisses.
Katsuki, it turned out, hated to be left out of kissing and wouldn’t let them
kiss each other without him for more than a minute or so.
Only after Izuku slipped his hand under the cloth of Kirishima’s boxers did the
redhead come. He rocked his hips through it, moaning both of their names
alternatively. When he was done, he panted against Katsuki’s shoulder.
Izuku’s back had started to get cold when he whispered, “I didn’t even know you
two were a thing.”
Kirishima snorted with laughter.
“Stupid Deku,” Katsuki muttered, but with the least amount of animosity Izuku
had ever heard him say those words, “It’s just brawlfucking. We’re not a
thing.”
“Oh.” Izuku thought about that, his cheek pressed against Katsuki’s collarbone
and his fingers inexplicably linked with Kirishima. He was pretty sure he had
cum on his hand and the hand he was holding had some on it too. “Does that mean
I can’t join your thing?”
“....Unbelievable,” Katsuki said. “You’re unbelievably idiotic.”
“What? You have to have something going on if you want to have someone else
join in!” Izuku protested. “I’m just saying that it would be nice. You know. To
join your thing.”
“I totally think you did,” Kirishima said, snickering. “I mean, what the hell
would you call what we just did?”
“I don’t know,” Izuku whispered. “But I don’t think I can go back to just being
classmates afterwards. Which means I think there should be a thing. Outside of
the brawlfucking.” Katsuki went stiff under his arm. “I mean, it doesn’t have
to be serious but… It would be nice. I think. To do things. Together. Besides
beating up strangers and… this.”
“What, like, dates?” Kirishima asked, wonderingly. “You want to go on a date?”
“Um,” Izuku mumbled, “Yes?” He glanced from one to the other, “Do you… I mean,
is this really all you do? This is all you want to do?”
“This is enough,” Katsuki said, narrowing his eyes. “It’s fine.”
Izuku glances to Kirishima, who shrugs at him.
Katsuki pushes them both away, scowling, “Shut up,” he said, even though no one
else had said anything. He slid away, picking up his shirt from the ground to
tug it back on over his head.
Izuku flushed, drawing back so he could fix his pants. His face ached, his skin
was cold from cooling sweat and he’d never felt so incredibly awkward in his
life. There was come drying on his stomach and he bit his lip, stifling his
quiet freak out over what the hell to do. Kirishima came over, holding out a
packet of a moist towelette. “Here.” He winked, “I came prepared.”
“Oh. Thanks. Um.” Izuku took it and cleaned himself off. His blush burned down
his neck; he could feel the heat of it on his chest. “I, uh-”
“Were you serious?” Kirishima asked. He stood with his hands in his pockets,
casual in every way except the blush that darkened his cheeks. “I mean, about
being a thing? The dating thing?”
“I. Yes?” Izuku blinked. “I mean. Isn’t this the kind of thing that happens
between people who date? Maybe not the fighting but uh. The rest of it?” He
waved his hand, generally gesturing towards the wall Katsuki had been against
just a minute ago. Katsuki stood farther down to the alley’s entrance. He had
his back to them, though.
“Do you want to be a thing with me?” Kirishima asked, giving a little smile.
“Dating sounds good… I kind of would like to date you.”
Izuku stared at him. He was pretty sure his heart had stopped beating. He bit
his lip, remembering the kissing, Kirishima’s hands on him, the way he’d rubbed
against Izuku’s palm- “Yeah. Yes. Okay. Yeah. Let’s date.”
“Oi!” Katsuki shouted, spinning around. His palm glowed with the use of his
quirk, “The fuck is going on here?”
Izuku put up placating hands, “Kacchan-”
“Katsuki-” Kirishima started.
“If anyone’s going to fucking be a thing with either of you little shits, it’s
going to be me. ” Kaachan growled, jabbing his finger into Izuku’s chest. “I’m
not letting you fucking run off with my best friend, Deku, and I’m sure as shit
not letting him fucking steal your ass from me. I haven’t even hadyour ass yet,
and if anyone is going to have it first, it’s gonna be me.”
“Excuse me,” Izuku said, “What?”He batted Katsuki’s hand away. “You don’t have
any sort of claim on me, Kacchan.”
“Hey now,” Kirishima jumped in. He caught Katsuki by the wrist, because he knew
better than to grab an exploding palm, and Izuku by the hand. “There’s no
reason this thing can’t be between the three of us. It started that way, didn’t
it? Everyone was satisfied with how we brought each other off, right? So
instead of pairing off and leaving someone out… why don’t we just continue
that?”
Izuku blinked at him and then at Katsuki.
Katsuki narrowed his eyes at Kirishima and then, slowly, smirked. He lifted his
chin confidently, “So you both become my bitches?”
“As if,” Kirishima laughed, “It’s my idea so you two belong to me.”
“Is that what you fucking think-” Katsuki started, fists crackling.
“Okay.” Izuku said, knocking the wind out of their argument. He beamed at them
both, squeezing Kirishima’s hand that he still held. He reached out for
Katsuki’s free hand and held it too. “I really like both of you, so I agree. I
want to date you both, at the same time.”
Kirishima grinned. Katsuki turned his stare from Izuku to Kirishima and then
down at their hands. “I can’t believe how incredibly fucking gay this is.”
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
Inko jumped to her feet when she heard the front door creak open. She rushed
out of the kitchen, nervous and worried and upset all at once only to see Izuku
crouched to take off his shoes. He stopped when she appeared and looked up at
her. His eyes were as green as ever, but one was swollen and his lip was split
and bloody. Still, he grinned up at her.
Before she could even say a word, he leaped up to his feet and exclaimed, “Mom!
I had my first kiss tonight!”
Inko’s brain stalled out. “You said you were… out with school friends? Izuku,
darling, what happened to your face?” She crossed the distance, hands
fluttering as she tried to see how badly he was injured. Izuku didn’t even seem
to notice the pain.
“Yeah! I met up with Kacchan and Eijicchan and well, I guess one thing led to
another and I kissed them and now we’re dating!”
Inko turned to look at the clock on the wall. It clearly said the time was
after midnight. Was she asleep and dreaming this? Was it just all a strange
hallucination? “What?”
“Anyway, I’m really tired so I’m gonna go straight to bed,” Izuku breezed past
her. He bounced on his toes, grinning still. Inko stared after her son as he
went to his room, humming to himself and swinging his arms just like he used to
do as a little boy.
“What?” she repeated alone to herself. It didn’t make any more sense.
 
***** glory *****
Chapter Notes
     i hope it was worth the wait
The heavy rain is a constant battery against the windows of the school.
Shouto’s staying late to use the peace and quiet of the library to work on
homework rather than go home to face his father. Enji’s days off from work are
both sporadic and crammed full of endless training and Shouto wants nothing to
do with them. He’s not the only one who stuck around, though, and it seems that
the rain is partially the cause for that too. The library has a quiet murmur
running throughout it, as students read or talk softly to each other.
Shouto flips his textbook shut with a sigh. He looks up to the window where the
rain falls so thick he can’t even see the other end of the yard. It’s gloomy
despite the overhead lights. Unable to continue focusing on his work, he gets
up from his claimed table to walk the shelves. Maybe he’ll find something
interesting to read, though the school has a small section of fiction. Perhaps
an autobiography or memoir of an older hero?
Any book he enjoys he’s sure Izuku would as well, making the search suddenly a
lot more interesting. Shouto can already imagine the look on Izuku’s face when
he hands over the book. He’ll say something like “I saw this and it made me
think of you”and then Izuku will give him that bright smile. Maybe he’ll blush
a little, coloring his cheeks and warming those freckles-
“--tease, Izuku. Oh god.”
Shouto freezes, hand upraised where he was trailing his fingers along the spine
of a book. He almost recognizes that voice and he definitely recognizes the
name. There’s a soft sound like rustling cloth from the other side of the
bookshelf. And then a little bit of laughter and an outright moan.
Shouto drops his arm. He stares at the bookshelf for a while, not looking at
the books but through the spaces between them. He can see through to the other
side and sure enough, there are two students against the next shelf over. He
doesn’t know how they got to where they are, but they’re pressed against each
other as close as they can be. Between the books, Shouto can make out the spiky
red hair of Kirishima- who he didn’t even realize was staying after school-
because his classmate is standing with his back to Shouto.
It’s the curly, dark green hair that peeks over Kirishima’s shoulder that makes
Shouto stare, though. Shouto knows that hair. He looks at it a lot.It’s Izuku’s
hair. It’s Izuku who is standing between Kirishima and the bookshelf. It’s
Izuku who has his arm around Kirishima’s shoulders. It’s Izuku who has his hand
on Kirishima’s ass.
It’s Izuku who’s giggling this time as he moves his head and Kirishima bends
his a little lower. “Careful,” Izuku’s voice is so quiet but Shouto can hear it
over the hammering of his heart in his chest, “Leave too many marks and Kacchan
will be so pissed.”
Kirishima laughs, “I’m not scared.”
Izuku giggles again. Shouto knows that giggle. He’s listened to it for nearly
three years now. That’s Izuku’s happy laughter when he’s so filled with joy
that it bubbles out of him uncontrollably. Shouto knows all the different ways
that Izuku laughs. They’re friends, but not only that, Shouto adores Izuku.
He always kind of hoped to have Izuku adore him back.
“Please,” Izuku’s voice is breathy, “Do that again.” As Shouto watches,
Kirishima rocks his hips against Izuku, who gave a little moan in response. He
keeps doing it, too, and Izuku hooks a leg up around Kirishima’s thigh, pulling
him closer and-
Shouto stumbles back, blushing so dark his cheeks ache with the sudden rush of
his blood.
That wasn’t-
Izuku didn’t-
Kirishima and Izuku-
Bakugou-
What about Bakugou-
Shouto hit the bookshelf behind himself hard enough to make it shake and
tremble. He jumped away from it, horrified at the thought of bringing it
crashing down to the floor. If he did that then surely Izuku and Kirishima
would hear it and they’d look and they would know that he saw them and-
Shouto did what he’d never done in a library before. He ran.
He stumbled down the aisle first. Rounding the corner, he bumped right into
another student. There was a rushed apology. A hand grabbing her by the arm to
keep her from falling. Then he was away again.
His bag was right where he left it. Shouto swept up his books; shoving them
inside, he slung the strap of his bag over one shoulder.
For a moment, he stood there, uncertain and faintly trembling. What was he
afraid of? Was he afraid or was it something else? Certainly, two guys making
out, or more, in a library was an intensely hot situation. He could feel a
building heat under his skin the more he thought of the way Izuku’s hand dug
into the cloth of Kirishima’s pants or how his leg drew Kirishima in flush
against his body. There absolutely was a twist of disappointment deep in his
gut because it was Izukuhe’d seen against that shelf. He hadn’t expected that.
Hadn’t realized that Izuku was interested in anyone else in that way, let alone
Kirishima.
And there was that thing he had said about Bakugou.
Shouto’s shaking stopped.
He didn’t know which one of them was withBakugou; he couldn’t tell just from
their words alone. (He hoped it was Kirishima, god did he hope it was
Kirishima. But then what did that say about Izuku and what they were doing?)
Either way, if they were here, waiting in the library after school, then what
were the chances that this was the place that Bakugou would come looking for
one of them?
A shiver crawled down Shouto’s spine as he imagined Bakugou turning the corner
to see the same sight he had. There would go half the library, easily. All
these books, though not exactly priceless since accidents could happen at any
time, were still valuable. The destruction would be incredible as books would
easily catch fire and the library was populated by unsuspecting students.
He couldn’t let that happen.
Shouto pulled his bag a little higher on his shoulder and set off down the
hallway. His choice was simple. He’d find Bakugou and he’d keep him away.

 
===============================================================================
 
 
Shouto found Bakugou in one of the indoor training rooms. There were a few
other students there, all of them dressed in gym clothes and paired off on the
mats. It looked like they were practicing some of the more advanced martial
arts, things that Shouto didn’t quite recognize himself. He was surprised to
see Bakugou working with one of the girls from Class B- the one that Shouto
recognized as their class president, Kendou Itsuka.
She had her quirk slightly activated, giving her hands a bit of a boost as she
went through different motions with Bakugou. It was clear she was the one
instructing him, however, as she told him when to start, when to stop and when
to start again. Shouto lingered by the doorway at first, uneasy. It didn’t look
like Bakugou was going to leave anytime soon. Perhaps his interception would be
unnecessary.
Ojiro was the one who caught sight of Shouto first. He waved to him,
instigating Shouto to wave back, and trotted over to talk to him.
“Hey,” he said, “What’s up, Todoroki?”
Shouto shrugged a shoulder, “I just, uh,” his glance flicked to Bakugou and
then back to Ojiro. “I was just wandering the hall and heard people in this
room.”
Ojiro smiled. “Yeah? Do you want to join us? We still have another hour or so
until we’ve got to clear out of here.”
Shouto hesitated. Behind Ojiro, Bakugou got a fist pump from Kendou as she
inaudibly praised something he did. Bakugou smirked, as if it wasn’t a big
deal, and preened a little bit. Something twisted in Shouto’s gut as he
imagined Izuku playing second fiddle to Katsuki’s own ego. Nodding, he said,
“Sure. I’ll join.”
Maybe it was spite, or just the feeling that Bakugou really didn’t deserve
Izuku’s affection- or Kirishima’s- with how self-centered he still was. But
Shouto found himself changing into his gym gear and coming back out to the
gymnasium.
Ojiro was talking with Kendou when he came back out. They were discussing
different types of grips, demonstrating with their hands and each other’s arms.
Bakugou stood off to the side, going through a few stretches. He had taken off
his jacket and wore just the sleeveless shirt and his pants.
Unlike his school uniform, Bakugou had his pants pulled up. They were also
rolled up to the knee and his feet were bare.
Shouto slipped out of his own shoes and socks as he stepped onto the mats. They
weren’t the only four out there, but the others weren’t an immediate concern so
Shouto put them out of his mind. Ojiro saw him when Kendou pointed, and waved
him over. Bakugou saw the gesture and looked up.
His eyes narrowed as he saw Shouto.
“Hey, welcome Todoroki,” Kendou said, “We’re glad you to make it. Why don’t you
do a few stretches and then we can do a practice match? I’d love to see what
level you’re working with.”
Todoroki nodded quietly. The stretching was second nature to him and he fell
into that quickly. It was a bit different doing it in front of others instead
of at home, but what he noticed most was the way Bakugou watched him.
He kept looking up, catching Bakugou’s gaze on him, before Bakugou would look
away again. It felt like a scratching at the skin, something pricking his
nerves over and over, the knowledge that Bakugou was watching him. Todoroki
finished his stretching with a slight sweat and flushed cheeks and a weird
feeling twisting in his gut.
Quiet Bakugou was not the kind of Bakugou he had to deal with on a regular
basis. They spent almost no time near each other except in classes, and the few
times they did have to interact, Bakugou was usually a loud swearing mess of
rage over something small and stupid. This was different. This made Shouto’s
skin crawl. This made him want to round on Bakugou and demand what his problem
was.
“You ready Todoroki?” Kendou asked as he finished. “Here, we can spar over-”
“Over here,” Bakugou called, gesturing with one hand. “He can spar over here.”
Kendou blinked, “Oh, you’re done, Bakugou?”
Bakugou shook his head. “Nah. Half-face and I will face off,” he gave a vicious
little smirk as he sized Shouto up with his eyes. “You can see his skill
against mine, hm? That’s enough, right?”
Before Kendou could object, Shouto nodded in agreement and walked over. This
was what he wanted, he realized suddenly. He wanted to fight Bakugou- barefoot,
quirkless, hand to hand combat. He saw plenty about Bakugou with his explosive
quirk and heard all about his skill in a fight, but rarely did they get pitted
against each other- at least, without any adult supervision.
“Are you sure?” Ojiro asked.
“Yes.” Shouto and Bakugou answered simultaneously. Ojiro sighed and shrugged.
Kendou looked a bit nervous but then shook it off.
“All right. Remember, this is a practicematch. First to three points is the
victor and points are scored by direct body hits. No blood. No broken bones. No
quirks.”
Shouto braced himself. Bakugou put up his fists. Kendou lifted one hand and
then dropped it down. “Fight!”
 
 
 
Bakugou was fast, but Shouto was expecting that. He brought his arms up,
defensive, holding Bakugou back while he kept his footing and tried to see how
he fought. There were marked differences between how he fought barehanded and
how he did with his quirk. There was a lot less shouting and a lot more of a
repeated onslaught. Bakugou’s fist connected with Shouto’s forearms six times
before Shouto managed to duck out of the way.
Shaking feeling back into his fingers, Shouto swept his foot out in a low kick.
Bakugou jumped it but didn’t take advantage of the space around them to back
up. Bakugou didn’t pull back, Shouto quickly discovered, he was all pursuit,
all attack, his fists and his knees and that smug little smirk-
“Point, Bakugou!” Kendou called out.
Shouto gasped for breath, feeling the bruise already start to form below his
ribs. What was that, a knee? Shouto hissed and used his own leg to block a
second kneeing attack. Bakugou’s attack offered a small hole in his defense as
he swung in with one fist, the other back for balance. Shouto drove a punch in,
landing it square in Bakugou’s gut.  
“Point, Todoroki!”
He heard Bakugou’s grunt, the desperate gasp for breath, and lifted his hand to
strike down but Bakugou didn’t pull back the way Shouto expected. He went down,
yes, but he went forward. And he led the way with his shoulder.
Shouto took that shoulder to the sternum. He reflexively grabbed Bakugou and
braced for impact. He hit the mat flat on his back and rolled. Bakugou went
with the first roll and drove him into another one. Shouto arched his back,
pressing his heels into the mat to refuse being pinned. Bakugou countered with
another punch to his side, aiming for Shouto’s kidney. He got his strike, but
Shouto didn’t hear a point get called.
All he could hear was his ragged, panting breath and its echo coming from
Bakugou. All he could hear was his heartbeat pounding in his ears. All he could
hear was the way Bakugou growled and grunted and strained.
Shouto hooked a heel behind Bakugou’s knee. He used that to drag Bakugou’s knee
underneath himself. As long as he could keep from being pinned, he still felt
like he had a chance. He caught Bakugou’s wrist, stopping a punch from landing.
Bakugou grabbed his forearm, blocking Shouto’s elbow from digging into his
ribs. Limbs tangled, Shouto squirmed, trying to find anyway out.
Bakugou had other plans.
He lifted himself up, rising on his knees, dragging Shouto with him. Bakugou
grinned, eyes flashing, as he turned his grip to hold both of Shouto’s arms.
Without warning, he slammed Shouto back down onto the mat with a loud smack.
Shouto gasped. His nails dug into Bakugou’s arm.
Bakugou knelt up again. This time, Shouto braced himself, hunching his
shoulders and tucking his chin in. He hit the mat again, harder this time. When
he landed, Bakugou pressed in, preventing Shouto from taking a full breath.
Suddenly, someone else was there and grabbing Bakugou by the shoulders. It was
Kendou, using her quirk to untangle them. Shouto gave up his grip unwillingly,
his nails leaving long red scratches on Bakugou’s arms as the other teen was
dragged away. It didn’t matter that he was struggling to breathe- he felt the
overwhelming desire to fight, to struggle, to beat Bakugou, to make Bakugou
bleed.
Shouto got his feet underneath himself and stood. Bakugou shook off Kendou’s
hands, shouting, “I’m good. I’m good! Fuck, don’t fucking piss yourself in
fear, you moron. He’s fucking fine. Fucking let go of me.”
She did, but then put her hands on her hips, scowling, “We have rules for a
reason, Bakugou! This isn’t an all out brawl!”
“I know that,” Bakugou snapped, “I’m not a fuckwit.”
“I don’t know about that,” Shouto said dryly. Bakugou’s eyes snapped to his
face. “That was pretty stupid.”
“The fuck did you say to me?” Bakugou demanded.
“Bakugou, why don’t you go take a walk and cool down?” Ojiro asked. “You’re
coming off a little hot.”
Bakugou rounded his glare on on Ojiro, but only stared for a few seconds. He
glanced at the clock on the far wall and then scoffed, “Fine. I got places to
get to anyway.”
Shouto watched him go. A fire burned under his skin and his gut clenched as he
watched Bakugou’s back muscles flex under his shirt. He had never come into
contact with someone so hot bodied or hot tempered like Bakugou. What made him
shudder was the realization that he wanted to do that again- to struggle and
fight with Bakugou, to feel his skin under his fingers, to feel Bakugou wheeze
for breath and to dig his nails in, marking him up.
Shouto rubbed his hands together, trying to dismiss the sensation. He looked
down at his fingers and noticed there was skin beneath his nails. Skin and
blood. Shouto shivered and looked away.
He didn’t want to… Fuck. No. There was no way. Shouto refused to even let the
thought formulate in his head. He gave his attention to Kendou, who was
apologizing for Bakugou’s behavior. He had done what he could to delay Bakugou-
or maybe he hadn’t really. Either way, Shouto needed to finish out the hour
with the others and do his best to put Bakugou and Bakugou’s body far, far out
of his mind.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
Maybe because he was looking for it, Shouto began to notice some things about
Bakugou.
Well, to be more accurate, he began to notice some things about Bakugou,
Kirishima, and Izuku.
Starting the very next day after that fight, when Bakugou still bore those
fresh scratches on his arm, Shouto noticed both Izuku and Kirishima paying
extra attention to Bakugou. Shouto wouldn’t call what they were doing babying
or anything, but they were attentive and oddly caring. Izuku helped Bakugou
bandage up the worst of them before a practical fitness test, where dirt or
grime could have gotten into the wounds. Kirishima did the somewhat more
noticeable, though less announced, version of help by carrying some books for
Bakugou.
The fact that Bakugou let them both help him, without fuss or complaint, was
enough for Shouto to find it remarkable.
If he were honest with himself, he was confused by it as well.
See, the reason that Shouto was paying attention was because of what he had
overheard in the library. Izuku and Kirishima, locked in a passionate embrace,
had both brought up Bakugou- as a warning or a threat. At least, so Shouto had
assumed.
But as he watched them, he was beginning to think it was less of a threat and
more of a tease.
Which lead to a whole slew of other questions that Shouto wasn’t even sure he
knew how to begin to ask, let alone knew if he wantedto start asking them.
It was a mess, like a sledgehammer obliterating a watermelon, and Shouto
couldn’t look away. He might not know where this thing started, but he wanted
to see where it went and what it looked liked when all was said and done.

===============================================================================
 
 
There were other things to notice as well.
On their way to lunch, Shouto ended up walking next to Izuku. They had been
talking about an assignment for class and the conversation had progressed into
the hallway. Shouto laughed at something Izuku said and Izuku flushed, waving
his hand embarrassed. That was when Shouto saw the red splashed across the
backs of Izuku’s knuckles.
Instinctively, he caught Izuku’s wrist. “What happened here?” he asked,
indicating Izuku’s injury. Without his hand moving, it was easier to see the
scabs and bruising across the back of them, as though Izuku had spent a lot of
time punching something. “This can’t make classwork easy for you.”
Izuku froze for a moment. His eyes widened. He looked as though he were a kid
caught with his hand in a cookie jar, a little bit startled, a little bit
afraid and ashamed. He laughed it off the next moment, working his hand free of
Shouto’s grip, and shrugged. “Just some practice battles with Kacchan and
Eijirou,” he said.
Shouto remembered the suffocating feeling of fighting Bakugou that one rainy
afternoon a week gone now. He’d continued to go to the after school matches
from time to time, but nothing had been like that.
Shouto’s face felt warm. He swallowed thickly and glanced away. “Oh?” He asked,
“Is he good?”
“Mm, yeah,” Izuku replied. Shouto looked at him in time to see Izuku looking at
Bakugou and Kirishima ahead of them in the hallway. “It’s Kacchan. He’s good at
stuff like that. Fighting. I mean.”
He had to ask. It was the perfect moment. He just had to knowif he had a chance
at all or if Izuku was taken. Shouto opened his mouth.
Ochako came up behind them, slinging her arms around their shoulders and
swinging forward between them. “Hey, boys! Whatcha whispering about over here?”
Shouto shut his mouth with a snap. The tops of his ears burned. He could smell
the very faint perfume that Ochako sometimes wore and it made his gut clench.
He gave her a little smile, doing his best to ignore the way his heart skipped
at her bright expression and friendly touch.
“We’re just talking about sparring matches,” Izuku said cheerfully. Ochako
‘ooh’d and nodded her head. “Kacchan’s pretty tough when he spars,” Izuku
continued, “And Shouto noticed some of the bruises I got.” He showed her the
back of his hand.
“Deku, you should be more careful,” Ochako said, “If you’re going to get into
punching matches, you should bandage your knuckles. I can show you sometime if
you want!”
“You know how to wrap hands for fighting?” Shouto said. He blinked, startled at
himself for asking so bluntly.
Ochako shrugged. She pulled her hand from around his shoulder and showed it to
Shouto. “Well, my hands are the source of my quirk. I have to protect them when
I fight, whether or not it’s serious.” She turned her hand back and forth.
“See, look at them.”
Shouto hesitated, but he took Ochako’s hand and looked at it. Usually, he just
noticed the little pads on her fingertips, like a cat’s paw, but now he saw
some faint scars on her knuckles and heels. “If you don’t bandage up before a
fight,” She said, “You could get pretty hurt just from your own attacks.”
“I guess I didn’t think much about it,” Shouto said, “I don’t usually do hand
to hand.”
Bakugou’s hands, gripping his arms and the burning red of his eyes, flashed in
the front of Shouto’s mind. He licked his lips and glanced away. “I have been
learning, though. To get better.”
Izuku worried his bottom lip with his teeth for a moment before he asked,
“Maybe you could come by sometime, when Kacchan and Eijirou and I practice. If
you wanted.”
Ochako giggled, “Ooh a boy’s night! You should definitely do it, Shouto!”
Shouto opened his mouth to ask “But with Bakugou?”but what came out instead
was, “Sure. Just let me know when.”
Izuku’s smile after he said that made it worth it, though.

 
===============================================================================
 
 
Shouto looked from the box in his hands to Izuku and back again. “Is this
really necessary?” He shook the box, frowning slightly as its contents rattled.
The outside of the box showed a smiling woman with jet black hair and the
promise of Ultra Easy Application!
“It’s temporary,” Izuku said, which wasn’t an answer to Shouto’s question at
all. “It’s just for tonight.”
“About that,” Shouto said, “Why, exactly,are we going out after dark on Tuesday
to do this? It’s the middle of the school week, Izuku. We have an exam
tomorrow.”
“Yeah, that’s why Eijirou can’t come with us. He had to stay home and study.”
Izuku said. He stepped forward and took the box from Shouto, “Now come here. We
gotta get this applied quickly or we’ll miss the train out there.”
“We’re doing this here?” Shouto asked, gesturing to the public restroom they
stood in. “Really?”
It wasn’t the biggest or even the cleanest restroom. There were a couple of
sinks, some urinals, and a few stalls. It was the kind of park restroom that
got cleaned infrequently and had hooligans hanging out in it late at night.
Shouto was beginning to realize that, tonight, hewas one of those hooligans.
“Yes really. Unless you don’t want to, then you can go back home and Kacchan
and I will go on without you.” Izuku said. He held out the box again and his
expression was resolute. “You either dye your hair and come with us or you
don’t and you go back home.”
“What the heck kind of friendship test is this,” Shouto demanded. His fingers
itched to take the box. He really didn’t like arguing with Izuku about this,
about anything, but he just didn’t get what the hell was going on.
“It’s not a friendship test, Shouto,” Izuku said, his expression softening
slightly. “Shouto-”
“You two shitlords done in there yet or what?” Bakugou shouted from the
doorway. He was supposed to be watching the entrance from the outside- or at
least that’s what he claimed.
“Not yet,” Izuku said with a roll of his eyes.
“How long does it take to put that shit on?” Bakugou demanded. “Have you even
fucking started yet?”
“No, Kacchan, we-”
Bakugou shoved the door open and stomped in. He snatched the box from Izuku and
urged him towards the door. “You go keep watch and I’ll help get the fucker
ready. Go. Go!”
“Kacchan-” Izuku put up a token resistance, but he still got shoved out the
door.
Shouto felt his heart rate jump when Bakugou turned to face him from the door.
Holding up the box, Bakugou advanced, “The reason we have to dye your hair is
really fucking simple and if you knocked your two fucking brain cells together
long enough to do something other than bitch, you’d’ve figured it out. Since
you didn’t let me elaborate.” He ripped open the top of the box as he spoke,
dumping the bottle into his hand.
“We’re going to go do something not exactly legal and not exactly illegal
either. We don’t exactly want to be fucking memorable, so we don’t exactly use
our names when we do this shit. The rest of us are lucky- our most memorable
traits are stupid things like Deku’s freckles or Eijirou’s fucking teeth. You,
however, have that shitty two-toned hair that is a dead fucking giveaway. If we
went all red or all white, people would fucking notice. But the black will make
you look different enough, even though you’ll still have a half-fucked face,
that no one will pin you as Endeavour’s shitty little brat until someone points
it the fuck out to them.
“And this is the kind of place that no one wants Endeavour’s little shitmongrel
to show up at. So, you’re going to dye your hair black, keep your mouth shut or
you’re going to fucking go right the fuck back home and not talk about this
later.” Bakugou held up the bottle, standing only a few feet away, “Those are
your choices. Pick.”
Shouto stared at him. He was sure that was the most Bakugou had ever said to
him in their entire three years of knowing each other. Surprising as it was to
get a lecture from Bakugou, he was more surprised at how much sense it made. As
long as you took out the vulgarity.
Shouto spent as little time thinking about his hair as possible, considering
all the bad memories and the heritage wrapped up in it. He had never considered
dying it before, as the two shades would have made for an uneven job, or so he
had assumed. But if he were just to turn it all black…
Of course, if he did dye it black, then he’d be agreeing to go along with this
barely-legal plan to begin with. Which, of course, being a hero in training, he
had no desire whatsoever to do.
Shouto held out his hand. His heart raced with anticipation. Any place that
Endeavour wasn’t welcome was somewhere he wanted to go at least once in his
life. “Let’s do this.”

 
Shirtless, head down in the sink, Shouto held on tightly to the porcelain while
Bakugou scrubbed the dye into his hair. The dye was cool. The water was cold.
Bakugou’s fingers were firm, warm, and rubbed his scalp with absolute
certainty. Shouto kept shivering- from the cold, of course- and had to bite his
lip when Bakugou’s fingers strayed to the back of his neck. There was tension
there, when was Shouto ever without stress?, and Bakugou’s fingers rubbed at
the knot.
Shouto squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip harder to stifle the moan that
pushed up the back of his throat. His arms shook. He tensed them. His knees
shook. He straightened them.
Bakugou pushed at the back of his head, directing him under the water again. He
didn’t say anything while he did this, which somehow made it worse or better,
Shouto couldn’t decide. He found it hard to think beyond how good it felt to
get touched- not just in a weirdly vulnerable way with his head down and half
dressed- but with such confidence.
There wasn’t any hesitation or uncertainty from Bakugou. Sure, he moved with
the kind of efficiency that made it feel like he considered this a boring task
that had to be taken care of, but he didn’t make it painful for Shouto and he
didn’t ask for Shouto to move his head this way or that. He simply would grab a
handful of hair or the back of Shouto’s head and turned it the way he wanted
to. It felt so good- the rubbing, the gripping- and yet Shouto knew this was
just Bakugou and so it meant nothing to him. It was just something he had to do
and so he did it.
Shouto was a confused mess by the time that the water was turned off. He
straightened slowly, breathing shallowly, with cold water streaming down his
chest from his head. He gave a surprised yelp when Bakugou wrapped a towel
around his head and, roughly, began to scrub there too. Shouto took it, closing
his eyes and letting Bakugou do what he wanted.
When Bakugou finished with the all over the head scrubbing, he used the end of
the towel to wipe Shouto’s hair back from his face. Shouto opened one eye and
then another, looking at Bakugou in silence. Bakugou looked him up and down,
holding onto the towel still, and then gave a sharp little nod of approval.
“Get dressed,” he said, finally letting go and stepping back, “We need to get
going.”
Shouto glanced around for his shirt. He pulled the towel off and put on the
shirt while Bakugou cleaned up the dye box and the rest of the trash. He
ditched that in the trash can while Shouto used the towel to rinse and dry out
the sink from the black dye.
He caught sight of his face in the mirror and stared for a second. He didn’t
recognize himself at all, and yet, he looked incredibly familiar. He reached up
and tried to straighten his now black hair with a couple of pats.
“Oi!” Bakugou shouted, opening the door, “Deku! We’re done.”
“Great!” Izuku said, poking his head in, “Come on let’s get- Whoa. Shouto!”
Shouto lowered his hand and looked over. Izuku was grinning at him, clearly
pleased. Shouto couldn’t help but smile back at him. “How does it look?” he
asked.
“You look like that guy from that old TV show, you know the one about the four
nations?” Izuku said.
“Zuko,” Bakugou said, “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too.” He gave a little
smirk to Shouto while looking him up and down, “Come on, Prince Zuko, no need
to keep fucking staring in the mirror like that. You’re not thatpretty.” He
ducked out of the door the next moment, not even giving Shouto the chance to
ask if that meant Bakugou thought he was pretty. Not that he wanted to know the
answer to that. He didn’t care if Bakugou found him attractive at all. Not even
a little bit.
“You look good,” Izuku said as Shouto walked over, “I almost didn’t recognize
you.”
“Do you think it’ll work as a disguise?”
“Definitely,” Izuku nodded.
Shouto gave him another little smile. “Then let’s go.”

 
===============================================================================
 

The abandoned warehouse. The single bare lightbulb at the top of some stairs.
The smell of sweat and blood and other indistinguishable things. Knowing that
they were headed to something not exactly on the right side of the law made
these small discoveries obvious in hindsight.
Even the gathering of people in the warehouse basement, shirtless, some bloody,
while others fought on some flattened piece of cardboard, made sense, once
Shouto pieced together all the clues. Bakugou’s eagerness, the way he led the
way in and down the stairs, grinning- that too, wasn’t surprising.
What startled Shouto the most was the way Izuku embraced the atmosphere as
well. Izuku, whose nature was so much sweeter than others around him. Izuku who
didn’t want to hurt people. Izuku who had to be so careful with his strength
quirk.
Izuku just as eagerly volunteered for a fight as Bakugou did. Izuku just as
willingly stripped off his shirt, his shoes- giving up those things for Bakugou
to look after while he stepped into the center against some full grown adult.
Izuku traded punch for punch, bloodied lip for blackened eye, bruise for
bruise, with all the same fervor as anyone else in the room.
Izuku came back from his fight with blood dripping down his chin and a couple
of bruises on his bare chest. But he came back grinning.
“That’s how you do it,” Izuku said to him. “No quirks, nothing but fists and
base strength. You ready?”
Shouto opened his mouth to say Maybe not this time,but what came out instead
was, “I think so.”
Bakugou shouldered him roughly. “Don’t think,” he said, “That’ll be your first
problem. This isn’t about fucking winning, numbnuts. This is about the fight.
Don’t think about it. Just make sure you don’t use your quirk and you’re good.”
Shouto licked his lips. He looked to the center of the crowd where another pair
were facing off. They circled each other for a while before one just rushed the
other. Shouto was distracted by the fight when Izuku pulled on his shirt. “Off
with this.”
He pulled off his shirt first, then shucked his shoes like the other two. Izuku
vanished for a moment, taking his clothing to the far wall where they kept all
their things. Bakugou, bare-chested as well, stood beside him, stood close
enough that Shouto could feel the heat from his body.
Maybe it was the stifling air that made Shouto’s brain stop working right.
Maybe it was the way he kept noticing Bakugou, the twitch in his jaw as he
clenched his teeth, the way his chest rose and fell with his breath or the
strength of his hands from when he’d been scrubbing in the dye. Maybe it was
because Izuku had just ducked away for a moment and Shouto had to knowbut
couldn’t yet ask him, his best friend.
Maybe that was why Shouto opened his mouth and asked, “Are you two dating? You
and Izuku?”
Bakugou went still. His head turned away from the match so he could stare at
Shouto. “What was that?”
Shouto flushed. “I just- There’s this feeling- And one time I saw him and
Kirishima and-” Bakugou’s eyes narrowed and Shouto’s words sped up, “I mean I
don’t know what to think because all three of you are this weird triangle of
affectionate? So I can’t tell if you’re dating Izuku and Kirishima is just your
best friend or if they’re dating and you’rethe third wheel or-” He stopped
abruptly when Bakugou reached up toward his face with one hand. Shouto grabbed
his wrist to stop him and stared at him.
Bakugou’s face was flushed. Not angry and shouting flushed, but that bright
pink right across the cheeks, the embarrassed kind of blush that Shouto didn’t
honestly think him capable of. Before he could speak, though, Izuku showed back
up.
Izuku took one look at them, sighed loudly, and took hold of both their arms.
“Stop fighting in the crowd. If you want to do it, do it in there.” He pulled
them apart. Bakugou sneered and shook out his hand, still glaring daggers at
Shouto, still pink as a damn rose across the cheeks.
Shouto had been resisting calling Bakugou attractive for weeks, he realized in
that moment, because all at once his brain could see it, accept it, and bring
up all those past moments like a slideshow of realization. Bakugou was pretty,
too. In his own explosive way. He didn’t have the sunshine trapped beneath the
skin the way that Ochako or Izuku did, that being one of the things that Shouto
knew he found attractive about them, but he had somethingburning under his
skin.
Shouto swallowed nervously. He couldn’t formulate words, or thought, as Izuku
ushered him towards the ring. There was something said about ‘first-time
visitors have to fight’ and then Shouto was in the ring.
He had to admit Bakugou was right about one thing. Thinking about it too much
was his first mistake.

 
===============================================================================
 

The concrete wall was cold against Shouto’s bare back.
He kept turning his head to spit blood onto the ground. His face ached. He
could feel his heart beating in the bruises forming.
He wanted to slide down to the ground and take a nap.
A shadow crossed him and Shouto looked up to see Izuku, bright eyed and
sporting his own bloody lip. He held out a cloth, which Shouto took and was
happy to find it damp and cool with water. He pressed it against his mouth and
cheek. It helped soothe the pain somewhat.
“You did great,” Izuku said. “Did you want to see Kacchan fight?”
Shouto blinked but nodded. Izuku took him by the arm and pulled him off the
wall. The air was cooler, now that sweat slicked his skin, but the crowd was
still loud and stifling. Izuku wedged his way through so they could watch
together. His hand was warm on Shouto’s skin, not moving, but flexing as Izuku
tensed and relaxed during Bakugou’s fight.
Without thinking about it, Shouto stepped closer to Izuku. He turned his arm,
holding Izuku in return, trying to comfort him. Not that he thought Bakugou
would lose, but any excuse to touch Izuku was one that Shouto would take.
Bakugou was good at fighting. Shouto had seen it up close and personal, both
with a quirk and without, and it didn’t surprise him at all that he could take
a beating as well as give one. Shouto noticed that Bakugou’s hands were wrapped
up tight, but there was still blood on his knuckles.
Considering the face of the other fighter, though, Shouto doubted that blood
was Bakugou’s. He wasn’t restricted to his fists, either. Bakugou was a monster
with his knees, kicking up with them and driving the top of his knees into his
opponent’s gut without mercy. The man he fought doubled over, gagging, and have
to tap out from one well-placed knee.
Bakugou stood in the center of the ring, grinning, undefeated, with sweat
shining on his broad shoulders and fire in his eyes. Shouto’s gut clenched at
the sight of him. There was cheering and the crowd jostled as people were urged
to go and fight against Bakugou, but no one broke the circle.
Shouto wiped the blood from his face one more time and then pressed the cloth
back into Izuku’s hand. Izuku turned towards him, opened his mouth, said
something, but Shouto couldn’t hear it. His ears were filled with the rushing
of his blood.
He had to do this. Win or lose, he hadto do this.
Fighting Bakugou wasn’t about winning or losing. It was about the glory of the
battle.
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
This time, when Shouto hit the ground, there was no mat to catch his fall.
There was only the thin cardboard, already stained with blood, and the cold
concrete below. But this time, when he struggled in Bakugou’s grip, he didn’t
have to hold back to keep from upsetting anyone. He could dig his heel into
Bakugou’s kidney or strike out with the heel of his hand.
It didn’t matter what they did to keep fighting- what mattered was that they
werefighting. What mattered to Shouto was that he could feel Bakugou’s skin and
muscle under his fingers. He could taste the coppery blood in his mouth. He
could hear their labored breathing and the shouts of encouragement from the
circle around them. He felt alive, consumed from the inside out, and knew that
feeling was shared with Bakugou.
They fought and fought, until Shouto was too exhausted to struggle and Bakugou
was too winded to strike. Shouto did end up on his back, pinned, but he didn’t
have to tap out for Bakugou to pull away. There was no winner, but there was no
loser, and they were both helped up to their feet by the crowd.
Bakugou went right to Izuku and Shouto, well, Shouto did the same. He had
nowhere else to go to and he didn’t want to be alone in the crowd.
Izuku, for his part, welcomed them both back. He gave the cloth to Bakugou to
wipe the blood from his nose and reached out to them both. He was the one that
drew them back, to the edge of the crowd and then out of it, into the shadows
near the wall again. He was the one who kept them close, one hand on Bakugou’s
shoulder, the other on Shouto’s.
Shouto probed at one of his teeth with his tongue. It felt like it could be
loose. He wondered, briefly, if he should go get it looked at in the morning.
“It was about time,” Bakugou said, lowering the cloth from his nose.
Shouto looked to him, brows furrowed.
“You copped out of our first real match. First year, during the sport
festival,” Bakugou said, “It was about time you actually fucking tried in a
fight with me.” He cocked his head to the side. There was a strange light to
his eyes. The light of the room, centered over the crowd, cast half of his face
in shadow but Shouto could still see the lopsided grin he gave. A shiver ran
down Shouto’s spine. He felt Izuku’s fingers tighten on his shoulder.
Izuku was smiling too, though his eyes were half open and directed towards
Bakugou. Shouto licked his lips nervously.
“Better late than never,” he said.
Bakugou snorted and laughed. He wiped his face again with the cloth and then
pulled away. “Get dressed, fucker.” He bent down, picking up their shirts. He
handed Shouto’s back to him before pulling on his own.
“We’re going?” Shouto asked, “Already?”
“It’s how we keep even further below the radar,” Izuku said. “We don’t show up
when it starts, we don’t stay until the end. We get here, we fight, then we
leave. If you stick around too long, the cops could show up.”
“Duh,” Bakugou said, sliding his shoes back on, “Even if everyone is an adult,
this is still illegal as fuck. Imagine if the school found out about this
shit.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the crowd. “Plus, if we don’t
fuck off early enough, we can’t fuck around afterward.”
Izuku visibly brightened at that. He gave a quick little glance from Bakugou to
Shouto and back, before asking, “Yeah?”
Bakugou smirked. “Yeah.”
“Right. I was following along until that bit there,” Shouto said. He ran a hand
through his hair, straightening it again after putting his shirt on. “What’s
that about?”
“Let’s get out of here, then we’ll show you,” Bakugou said. He was all ready to
go so he turned and headed for the stairs. Shouto hurried to put his shoes back
on and followed just a few steps behind Izuku.
He followed them back out of the basement and through the darkened first floor
of the warehouse. Instead of heading back out to the street and towards the
station, however, Bakugou circled around to the narrow alleyway between this
warehouse and the next. The shadows deepened around them as the light from the
streetlamps grew farther and fainter.
Bakugou stopped somewhere before the end of the alleyway and turned around.
Izuku joined him. Hesitantly, Shouto stepped up until the three of them were a
small triangle. Shouto worried his bottom lip with his teeth while Bakugou and
Izuku had some sort of weird, hushed conversation.
“Just the one time, it’ll be fine,” Bakugou muttered. “He’s not the type to get
that jealous. And if he wanted to be here, he’d do better in fucking class so
he didn’t have to study so much.”
“I think it’s just a little unfair. He might want to try and what if it only
works out this one time?” Izuku countered, “Shouldn’t we at least ask first?”
“What if we just make a deal that it’s not once with just us,” Bakugou
suggested. “If he agrees, we’re covered.”
Izuku rubbed his chin in thought. Then he nodded.
Shouto took a step back when they both turned to look at him at the same time.
“What?” he asked, “What is it?”
“There’s usually this other thing we do,” Izuku said, “After we do the
fighting. Kacchan and Eijirou started it, but we all do it now. It’s kind of
our… thing.”
Bakugou rolled his eyes, “You don’t have to coddle the bastard. It’s not like
he’s a fucking clueless turd, Deku.” He gestured sharply towards Shouto. “He’s
seen that there’s something going on between the three of us.” Looking at
Shouto, Bakugou said, “The answer to your question, by the way, is yes.”
“I- What?” Shouto repeated. “What question?”
“Before your first match,” Bakugou said, “When you asked who was fucking whom.
If it was Deku and I or Eijirou and Deku. The answer is yes. It's both pairs of
that, and it’s also Eijirou and me.”
Shouto opened his mouth, made a soft choking noise and then closed it again
with a snap.
“It’s a bit unorthodox,” Izuku said, speaking as though he were explaining
something mundane, like how they decided who did which chores on which days.
“But it’s flexible and functional with the three of us. It works out because
Kacchan isn’t very into PDA but Eijirou and I are, but he’s hard to satisfy
with just one of us because he tends to hyperfocus and entirely wear someone
out, leaving them too exhausted to help him get off. Plus- Ouch! Kacchan!”
Izuku rubbed his side, where Bakugou had elbowed him.
“Short version,” Bakugou said, ignoring Izuku, “We fight and then we fuck.
Usually, Eijirou’s the third member of our fuckery but as you can clearly see,
the idiot isn’t here. So there’s an empty spot. Do you want to join us tonight
or not?”
“Join you?” Shouto repeated. His head was spinning. What the hell?He glanced
around. They were in the dark. He could barely see their faces. It was hard to
tell if this was real, if he was really being propositioned for sex in an alley
in the middle of the night. “You mean, right now? You want to have sex right
now?”
“Not sex-sex,” Izuku said. Which was a phrase Shouto never thought he’d hear
him say. “It’s more like blowjobs and handjobs and groping. Simple stuff.”
“Brojobs,” Bakugou said. Izuku elbowed him this time. “What? I only said it
because hair-for-brains isn’t here too.”
“I’ve never given anyone a blowjob before,” Shouto said. He wasn’t entirely
sure why he did, other than he felt like it needed to be said, “I’ve uh, never
really kissed anyone, actually.”
There was a long pause when they just stared at him and then Izuku elbowed
Bakugou harder than before, shoving him back, and reached for Shouto.
Warm, calloused hands cupped Shouto’s cheeks. Izuku’s grip was strong as he
pulled him down. His green eyes caught the barest hint of light, flashing as he
spoke, soft and heated, “I’m going to kiss you, Shouto, okay?”
“Yeah,” Shouto breathed back. And then it was happening. Izuku was kissing him.
It was warm and a little wet and it felt so good.Shouto reached out to him, his
hand shaking as it curled in the front of Izuku’s shirt. Izuku’s tongue ran
over his lips and Shouto shuddered. What was he supposed to do? Should he open
his mouth, should he- But then Izuku was pulling back- wait, no he was being
pulled back and-
Shouto opened his eyes. He didn’t realize he had shut them, but now they were
open and he saw Bakugou shoulder Izuku out of the way. Izuku still had one hand
on his cheek when Bakugou reached up, grabbed a handful of Shouto’s black-dyed
hair and tugged. Bakugou kissed completely differently than Izuku. He didn’t
tease with his tongue, but pushed it in, showing Shouto that there was a
Bakugou way to kissing too- demanding and forceful, but just this side of
desperate.
Bakugou bit his bottom lip, pulling on it, drawing out a groan from Shouto,
before he stopped kissing him.
Panting, Shouto stared at them both. He felt a warm weight growing deep in his
gut. Somewhere between the first kiss and the second, he’d been backed up
against a wall. Izuku licked his lips. Shouto couldn’t look away.
“So do you want to join us tonight?” Izuku asked.
“There’s only one stipulation,” Bakugou said. “You have to do this again,
later, when Eijirou is here.”
“What?” Shouto gasped out. Again? How was he going to do this again?They were
clearly going to eat him alive. There would be nothing left of him after
tonight.
“We don’t want to leave him out, and he’s not really a jealous guy,” Izuku
said, “But he’ll be sad he missed out.”
“You wouldn’t believe how many times he’s asked me if I think your dick is half
ice and half fire or some shit,” Bakugou said.
“What?”Shouto asked.
“Anyway,” Izuku steamrolled over that with a little shove at Bakugou. “Those
are our terms. This is part one of two, but you have to agree to part two
before you get part one.”
Shouto ran a shaky hand over his face. They waited, though Bakugou shifted on
his feet and Izuku kept still. “What… what is part one?” Shouto asked.
Someone’s hand cupped the front of his pants. In the darkness, he couldn’t tell
which of them it was. Shouto shuddered as Bakugou leaned in and said, “Have you
ever wanted a blowjob, Shouto?”
“Oh god,” Shouto whispered. His eyelids fluttered as Izuku cupped his cheeks
again, those hands almost familiar as he drew Shouto in for another kiss. If
both of those hands were Izuku’s that meant that the other ones, the ones that
were opening the front of his pants, were Bakugou’s.
Izuku’s kisses were warm and welcoming. Shouto couldn’t help but melt into
them. He held onto Izuku’s shoulder for stability; his legs trembled like the
were about to give out at any second. He didn’t know how, but his other hand
found its way into Bakugou’s short hair. He held onto them both tightly, trying
to kiss back but getting distracted.
The darkness made everything more intense. Even if he looked down, he couldn’t
see exactly what Bakugou was doing, couldn’t see where his hands were, how far
away his head was. But he could feel those things. He could feel the front of
his pants pulled down to his knees. He could feel hands run up his thighs,
coarse fingers and the rough texture of the wrappings Bakugou wore on his
knuckles making Shouto shudder.
He wasn’t even that hard yet but moaned when Bakugou’s mouth pressed against
his clothed dick. He could feel the wetness of his saliva soaking the cloth and
the heat of his mouth as he sucked and licked made Shouto squirm.
“That feels good, doesn’t it?” Izuku whispered into his hear. His hand stroked
the side of Shouto’s cheek, and down, over his neck. Fingertips tapped along
the vein of his throat and down to his collarbone. His breath was warm; his
voice soft. Shouto leaned towards him or tried to. “Kacchan’s mouth is so hot,”
Izuku said, “and he’s gotten really good at this too. I bet he’ll be able to
put all of your cock in his mouth.” Izuku pressed a kiss to his cheekbone.
Shouto’s hips arched up as Bakugou’s fingers slid under the waistband and
pulled his boxers down, slow and steady. His fingers twisted in short hair, but
no matter how he pulled, Bakugou went at his own pace.
“Izuku,” Shouto whimpered, turning his head towards him, “please.”
“What is it?” Izuku murmured, “What do you want?”
“Don’t stop kissing me, please.”
“Sure,” Izuku murmured. He leaned in again, kissing Shouto. They were kissing
when Bakugou began to suck. Shouto moaned into Izuku’s mouth, back arching off
the wall.
Izuku had been right, of course, Bakugou’s mouth was hot and wet and felt so
good. Shouto sobbed against Izuku’s lips when the head of his cock rubbed
against the inside of Bakugou’s cheeks. He was glad for the darkness because he
was sure if he opened his eyes the world would be spinning.
As it was, eyes open or shut, Shouto saw the same darkness as before. He felt
the same touches, the hand pressed against his hipbone, holding him down, the
other fingers crawling across his ribs, nails prickling the skin around a
nipple, a tongue pressed against the underside of his cock, teeth pulling
lightly at his lip.
Shouto strained against the hand holding him down. He wanted to thrust. He
wanted to arch his back. He squirmed where he was, held down, pressed against
the wall, captured and desperate. There was someone moaning, loudly,
desperately asking for more, but they kept getting cut off with those kisses.
There was the sound of someone gagging a little bit, which made him shudder,
especially when he felt a mouth and throat constricting around his cock.
“I’m gonna-” Shouto moaned, “I think I’m gonna-”
Bakugou hummed around his cock. At the same time, Izuku whispered into his ear,
“Go ahead, Shouto.”
His head hit the wall as he came, straining against Bakugou’s grip, moaning
against Izuku’s neck. He fell apart at the seams, eyes squeezed shut so tightly
he saw spots of color behind his eyelids. Bakugou coughs. Izuku croons wordless
praise into his ear, his hand stroking Shouto’s abdomen.
Bakugou pulls away, and with that, he takes Shouto’s support. He slides down
the wall, panting, shirt catching on the brick, and ends up sitting on the
ground with his head tipped back, eyes closed, mouth open as he pants. He stays
that way for a long time, just breathing, with his pants open and his softening
cock hanging out.
When Shouto comes back around to the real world, he can just make out the shape
of Bakugou and Izuku next to him. Izuku is pressed up against the wall, arms
around Bakugou’s shoulders, legs around his waist, and it’s so similar to the
scene Shouto saw in the library that he feels a flashback to that shame for
watching. Except what they’re doing is far more graphic than what Izuku and
Kirishima did.
This isn’t some paltry groping and kissing, Shouto can hear the slick slide of
skin hitting skin. The reason he can see them so clearly is because their skin
is bare and it catches the moonlight from above even though it’s so faint.
Bakugou’s shirt is hiked up, his pants are down around his knees. Izuku’s pants
are completely off, as far as Shouto can tell.
They’re fucking. They’re absolutely fucking, and he’s stuck there watching
them, relaxed from his own orgasm, unwilling to turn away. He almost does when
he catches Izuku’s eye over Bakugou’s shoulder, but Izuku smiles at him and he
looks so fucking happy that Shouto… can’t. He can’t look away. He doesn’t want
to.
It doesn’t matter if Bakugou’s the one making Izuku feel this good, just so
long as Shouto can see him look that way.
They keep going for several more minutes, long enough for Shouto to fix his
pants and get chilly, waiting in the darkness, but not so long that his legs
fall asleep. He pulls his knees up to his chest and watches them fuck, feeling
weird about it but also feeling like he kind of earned this- and more than
that, that he’s a part of it. Somehow.
Bakugou finishes first, at least as far as Shouto can tell, and pumps Izuku
with his hand to finish him too. When Bakugou pulls back, he’s panting,
grinning, and pulling the condom off his cock to toss aside. Izuku relaxes back
against the wall, eyes closed, breathing deeply.
Shouto looks from one to the other and then said, “I thought you said blowjobs
and handjobs, not sexsex.”
Bakugou snorted. He gestured towards Izuku and said, “Tell him that, not me.”
He shoved at Izuku’s knee, “Go on, tell him how much you like to be fucked.”
Izuku’s cheeks darkened. He didn’t open his eyes, though, just muttered,
“Sometimes you want a blowjob. Sometimes you want to have sex.”
Shouto sat there for a while, thinking about that. He had thought of Izuku
romantically for so long that it surprised him that he hadn’t really thought of
this part of it, the exhausted post-sex in an alley. Of course, he didn’t think
that having sex in an alley was ever something he’d really do. It was kind of
filthy and cold and rank and-
“Hey,” he said, “That part two thing. Does it have to be in an alley? Can’t it
be like… Indoors or something?”
Bakugou laughed. Shouto stared at him. He had never seen Bakugou so relaxed. Or
had seen him laugh like that- not demeaning or spiteful or anything. Just
laughing. Relaxed and boneless and, well, pretty. Even in the darkness.
“Sure,” Izuku said, “How about this weekend? The four of us go on a date and
then, well, we’ll see what happens?”
Shouto smiled. For some reason, adding Kirishima to this felt like it would
only add to the experience, not take from it. “That sounds good”
Bakugou flopped on his back, chuckling, “It’s a date. Fucking hell, it’s a
date.”
 
 
===============================================================================
 
 
Shouto unlocked the front door as quietly as he could. He crept into the house,
removing his shoes and turning back to lock the door up again. He hesitated in
the foyer, listening.
Sometimes his dad was still up late at night, and while normally Shouto didn’t
care too much about disturbing him, tonight… well.
His hair was still black. He was going to have to wash it out in the morning as
he was far too tired to do so now.
Hearing nothing but silence in the house, Shouto let out a little sigh. He
pulled out his phone and sent a text to Izuku, letting him know he got home
safely, and then put his phone away.
With a smile, Shouto headed to bed. It was going to be a good weekend, he could
feel it in his bones.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!