Archive of Our Own

“Kacchan! Kacchan, where are you?”

The increasing volume of Deku’s voice is a warning that he’s getting close. Bakugo curses, nearly crashing into a wall as he rounds a corner. It’s a frantic attempt to put as much distance between them as he can. Normally, that’d be easy. But he’s trapped in a maze with no way out.

The situation reminds him too much of his very first match with Deku, claustrophobic steel walls and stale air. Only this time, their positions are reversed: he’s the prey. Heart hammering in his chest, he knows stupid Deku of all people should not be making him feel terrified.

But he should’ve known better – no, they all should’ve known better, when they walked into a lair and found it deserted. No guards or traps or anything suspicious. That in itself was a huge red flag they gainfully ignored. They emerged into a big empty room and found themselves face to face with a single man in a silver mask, sitting on a chair like it was some throne and he’d been waiting for them the whole time.

Before they could charge him, he’d fired some kind of beam through the black eye holes of his face covering, and Todoroki and Deku had taken majority of it, frozen in place. It had aimed at him too, but Kirishima, as usual, tossed him aside and took the brunt of it instead.

Then the three turned toward Bakugo, and started attacking. Mind control quirks were such a pain.

He knew he couldn’t take them all three on one. The space was too wide open, leaving him vulnerable to ambushes from any direction. That’s when Bakugo ran for it, propelling himself with blasts back into the labyrinth they’d come from. At least enclosed spaces would restrain Todoroki’s quirk. This way, they were bound to split up and look for him separately. He’d take them out one by one if he had to.

“Bakugoooo!” comes a familiar wail from Kirishima, somewhere. Far, from the sound of it. Whatever mind control Silvermask has them under, it’s different from the usual. Because Deku and Kirishima sound exactly like their normal selves, trying to draw him out through the guise of familiarity.

As if that’ll work. Bakugo just runs faster.

Until a braceleted hand grabs his wrist, ice forming at the touch.

“Got you,” Todoroki says, with his usual impassive tone. But there’s a dangerous glint in his eyes, opposite of the usual glazed expression carved from a lifetime of half-assing everything.

“You fuckin’ wish!” Bakugo doesn’t hesitate as he blasts Todoroki in the face with just enough force to hopefully knock his head against the wall.

Dealing with mind control is tricky, but the common rule is to make them lose consciousness: hit them hard just enough to knock them out. Too hard and it’d cause them to fall into a coma. Back then, Aizawa’d looked at him dead-on as he explained it, and repeated it twice.

With a tsk Bakugo draws back his wrist, now free as Todoroki stumbles back. Still conscious apparently. He readies another explosion. All of a sudden there’s a rushing sound in his ears and a burst of wind, and he knows what that is but he’s too slow to move out of the way.

With a yell Bakugo is tackled to the ground. His head smacks against the floor painfully, causing his senses to go screwy for several moments. Black spots dance around his vision and sound comes and goes, but he still recognizes the glowing crackle of energy emanating from the gloved hand that’s pressed on the ground, right beside his face.

“You stupid…” He heaves, thrashing against the figure pinning him down. It feels like all the air has been sucked out of his lungs. Everything’s spinning, and the floor under his head is slippery. He’s probably bleeding from there. A concussion, fan-fucking-tastic. “Snap out of it, you damn nerd!”

But Deku doesn’t look like someone who’s just tried to kill him. No, the asshole has the gall to look concerned. His eyes are wide and brows are furrowed with worry. “I’m glad we found you,” Deku sighs in relief. His casual tone sends chills down Bakugo’s spine. There’s no point in trusting that gentle expression when at the same time he’s crushing Bakugo’s wrists with one hand.

“Kirishima! He’s over here!” Deku hollers. It’s a short while before Kirishima arrives. The familiar wide grin that Bakugo’s used to is there.

But that’s definitely not Kirishima.

“Man, Bakugo, why’d you have to run?” says the imposter, hands on his hips. The same exact way the real Kirishima would, which pisses him off even more. Coupled with the dizziness, Deku’s hold, and the overwhelming urge to shut his eyes and rest, all Bakugo can do is grind his teeth in frustration. The last thing he wants to be is unconscious while surrounded by these three freaks.

“Shitty hair,” he growls, because what else can he say? They’ve caught him. He doesn’t know what they’re going to do with him. Clearly, Silvermask can only focus the quirk on three people at most, otherwise Bakugo’s brains would’ve turned to mush back there, too. And the quirk still makes the victim act like themselves, but with a goal in mind (presumably) implanted by the quirk-user.

If the objective was to catch him, then what now?

“Give him here, Midoriya, his quirk can’t affect me if I harden,” Kirishima says, enthusiastically, and Deku nods, freeing Bakugo’s arms. Kirishima’s hands are quickly there to replace them, though, unfastening Bakugou’s gauntlets and tossing them aside.

So they’re possessed, but retain all their memories and prior knowledge of him.

It’s slowly dawning on him that the situation is really fucking dire. As Kirishima hauls him up like a ragdoll, Bakugo sets off explosions against his chest. He knows it’s futile: they’ve trained together so often that muscle memory instantly turns Kirishima jagged with so much as a twitch from him. The blasts are extinguished upon contact with his hardened form.

He directs his glare at the ground as Kirishima draws him up to his chest in an awkward bridal carry. They start moving, the two others trailing behind them.

“His head’s bleeding, Midoriya.”

“Gah, my bad.”

“Master will fix him,” Todoroki says reassuringly.

“Fuck you and your Master, let me go.” To accentuate his point Bakugo thrashes, or tries to anyway, because he just ends up wriggling awkwardly in Kirishima’s arms. The smack to the head is making any sort of movement close to impossible. His limbs feel like they’re made of lead.

Kirishima peers down at him with an apologetic smile. His hold tightens. He looks cautious. As if he of all people should be! Bakugo’s not the one here that's possessed by a crazy lunatic.

They’re back in the room with Silvermask. Kirishima dumps him in the middle of it, a good fifteen feet away from the villain. Who’s been lounging around this whole time apparently, chin cradled in his hand. Bakugo lifts his head and glares at him, feeling the smirk behind that mask. He can’t wait to break it and wrench shards of it, one by one, off his goddamn face.

The man congratulates him, calls him by his full name and everything, because his quirk may be novel but his lines are still cliché as fuck. He yammers on about how impressive it was for Bakugo not to hesitate in attacking his friends, drops a few creepy comments about how he’s always been aware of Bakugo’s skill. Yadda, yadda. His low chuckle reverberates around the room.  

Always, huh? He’s never seen this man before in his life, yet clearly the fucker’s been observing them for quite a while. Enough to know their quirks and personalities and furthermore, prepare for them.

“Wish I could say the same for you.” He knows nothing about his opponent: what’s his name? What’s his plan? What are the limits of his quirk? Bakugo considers attacking head-on, but the shadows of Todoroki, Deku and Kirishima are looming behind him like statues. One move and they’re sure to pounce. “Any reason you‘re doing this shit or were you just that lonely? You must be hideous if you actually think you look better with that ugly thing on.” Piss them off. Rile them up until they charge and make a mistake.

But Silvermask shrugs, unfazed. “Loneliness, hmm? I admit, I’ve never had anything close to the company you keep. Comrades. Classmates. Teammates. Friends.” He cocks his head. “Willing lovers.”

“Bah. You want these three morons so bad? You can keep ‘em. Already having them call you ‘Master’ and shit, it’s disgusting. What, you expecting the same thing from me?”

“I don’t know, is there anything else in particular you have to offer?”

Silvermask continues sitting unnaturally still, on that stupid chair. He’s given no substantial information whatsoever, but Bakugo remains defiant, pressing for answers. Until now he can’t discern whether their group was his actual main target, or if they’re just pawns in a much bigger plan. The villain isn’t rising to his bait, eerie calmness chipping away at Bakugo’s bravado.

He’s never been good at negotiations. So it’s back to fighting, then, until he figures out a way out of here. If they all attack him he can use Stun Grenade to momentarily blind them. Then all he has to do is hit the villain hard enough to loosen his hold over their minds. The mask is most likely for protection then, or similar to Aizawa’s if his quirk happens to be sense-triggered.

That settles it.

“Look,” Bakugo barks, rising to a sitting position. “If you’re gonna torture me, then get on with it. I don’t have all day. Whatever pain these three can dish out, I can take.” He bares his teeth. “So go on. Let your mind voo-doo do all the work for you.”

“You must have a high opinion of yourself if you think you can’t be broken by pain.”

“I don’t break, I learn.”

“Then by saying that I hope you realize, Bakugou Katsuki, that there are many ways to break a person. I look forward to the lessons I’m about to teach you.”

In a split-second Bakugo lifts his palm and whirls around to get the jump on the trio, but the act is aborted when he feels a sharp pain in his arm. Todoroki steps back from him, peering at the syringe whose needle is still embedded in Bakugo’s bicep.

Bakugo stumbles away with a gasp, immediately ripping off the damn thing. But it’s empty, contents already unloaded into his muscle. His arm drops, numbly falling to his side uselessly even as he squeezes the injection site.

“The fuck did you just inject me with, half-and-half?!”

“Sorry,” Todoroki intones. “Master’s just trying to help you.”

“You’ll feel it soon, don’t worry,” Silvermask says, his tone mocking. “With nitroglycerin running through your veins, your blood vessels are perpetually dilated. The drug will spread at twice the speed.” Bakugo has no time to register that the villain has a scary amount of knowledge about his quirk. Deku and Kirishima are on him again, tugging him backward to put more distance between him and their Master.

“I’d say you have about fifteen minutes. Enjoy the pain while you can. What comes after, well…” The villain rests his elbows against the arms of his chair and clasps his hands together. “…We’ll see.”

“It’ll be easier if you don’t fight it,” Deku says, pulling Bakugo’s attention back to his cheerful (awful) stare. Bakugo spits at him, grinning as Deku reels back to scrub Bakugo’s saliva off his chin. Problem is, he’s still smiling.

“Oh, Kacchan...”

With a widening grin and a surge of power he rips the metal collar off Bakugo’s costume. The sudden pull causes him to smack the back of his head against the ground again. Bakugo groans, on the verge of hauling himself back up until Deku’s glowing hand presses against his chest.

He takes in the image of Deku looming over him, his wild hair blocking the lights above. This feels vaguely familiar. He’s had nightmares of this, of being overpowered by someone he’s hated most.

“Deku—“ Bakugo wraps his hands around Deku’s wrist and pushes, desperate to shove him off. But there’s no fighting against All Might’s power. He doesn’t even budge.

It’s getting harder to breathe. He doesn’t know if it’s because Deku’s crushing his ribcage or because the gravity of the situation is setting in.

Kirishima’s crouching near his outstretched legs. Bakugo can’t see what he’s doing, but feels the blade of his arm pulling at the straps of his trousers. There’s a snapping noise, followed by clinking as buckles hit the floor. He’s… Cutting them? The grenade belt he understands but everything else… Why? Bakugo furrows his eyebrows, preparing to interject with some insult.

Kirishima draws back toward him, his face sliding into view. His expression is concentrated as he beckons Todoroki closer. It seems the other male understood completely, because his left hand is raised and—

There’s a searing pain in his lower torso. Bakugo hisses, held still by Deku’s grip as a fire ignites and everything below the waist burns to ash. Wayward flames lick up his thighs, leaving only his boots intact. He stamps them on the floor out of frustration. Physical torture he was expecting, but to be left half-naked in a villain’s lair…

None of this was covered in hero class, but he can’t let his unease at the current situation show.

He jerks his head to the side, looking at Silvermask. “I’ll kill you! If you think I’m gonna beg them to stop—“

“You’ll be begging. Just not for them to stop.”

“Ha-?”

Deku’s lips cover his, swallowing the surprised noise he makes.

As it turns out Deku’s kisses are as disgusting as he looks. Sloppy and overly-earnest. His tongue is gagging him, but there’s an entirely different reason for the growing dread in his chest.

Everything has finally clicked into place.

Rape.

Deku is groaning, gloved hand brushing Bakugo’s cheek as he deepens the kiss. One for All is still switched on to hold him down throughout his renewed struggles.

The villain is going to make them rape him.

His heart is pounding so painfully that Deku’s palm can surely feel every beat.

He can’t – refuses to accept it. No, that can’t be. This isn’t happening. It’s too – cruel and personal. He sees them everyday at class and at training. They’ve gone on patrols together. He wouldn’t be able to look at them after  – like hell is he going to let this happen.

Bakugo shoves Deku’s shoulder with one hand to push him back, and lands a jab at his nose with the other. The action sends his attacker toppling sideways.

Before he can rise, a layer of ice glides over his chest and solidifies there, foiling yet another escape attempt. He can hear Deku’s feeble “oww,” see his huddled form. He’s clutching at his nose. Bakugo hopes it’s broken. His triumph is short-lived as Todoroki steps into view.

“Bakugo, that wasn’t very nice.”

He kicks out in frustration, heel scraping against stone. His teeth are chattering from the cold. “T-the fuck are you going to do about it, half-and-half? At least one of us is fighting, huh?”

He could’ve sworn he just saw a grimace cross Todoroki’s features. But Bakugo looks closely and it’s gone, replaced by a neutral expression.

“Dibs on going first!” Kirishima looks far too giddy like that, hand in the air. Deku comes back into his view, a hand over his nose. There’s a streak of blood drying on his chin, which Bakugo is marginally proud of. The three are rapidly talking amongst themselves as he shivers on the ground.

“Aw, I wanted to be the one,” Deku whines.

“Too bad, Midoriya. I’ll get him nice and slick for you, though.” Bakugo frowns, confused. His mind is still running several paces too slow to understand what they’re referring to.

“Thanks.”

“I’ll open him up, then,” Todoroki offers, already walking toward Bakugo’s feet. The ice dissolves, and he realizes, belatedly, that Todoroki wasn’t talking about dissecting him. No, they were arguing about how to prepare him to be fucked.

Bakugo roars in anger. With the ice prison gone, he can jump up and get away. But his try is quickly thwarted by Deku, who pins his arms over his head.

“Sorry, but you’ll have to stay still for a little while,” Deku says. Bakugo wants to explode that creepy smile off his freckled fucking face.

“Let go!” He won’t give up, fueled by the knowledge that if they cross that threshold, there there’d be no going back. He thrashes, kicks out furiously. He’s not weak. He can still win. But there’s a fear creeping over him, alerting him of what’s inevitable.

Ice forms with a flick of Todoroki’s wrist, pinning Bakugo’s feet in place. Reeling from overexertion, he’s  left trapped and panting. With Todoroki already reaching down toward his knee, Bakugo realizes the only defense he has left is to close his legs.

Of course, it doesn’t work. Todoroki easily pries them open and spreads him at the knee.

“Dude, relax,” Kirishima coaxes, patting Bakugo’s chest in a manner that’s supposed to be comforting. But it only makes him panic further. He’s cold and exposed and about to be fucked by his teammates, who have all been manipulated into acting like it’s nothing out of the ordinary. He can't imagine a more cruel and unusual form of torture.

It’s difficult to see what Todoroki’s doing, hunched over between his legs like that. But there’s a wet sensation on his thigh, then another. Followed by a series of them, drawing higher and closer to Bakugo’s ass and he cringes at every kiss planted on his bare legs.

He doesn’t know whether to close his eyes or try to find some – any opening. If he lies back, he’ll end up looking up at Deku’s ugly mug. And he doesn’t want to look at Kirishima either, because he’s still cheerful and acting like nothing’s wrong, which is all sorts of fucked up. He’s already half-way to losing it because, despite everything, he knows they’re probably still there, trapped in their own minds but unable to act.

Todoroki lowers his head between Bakugo’s thighs, and presses a soft kiss against his hole.

“Wuh-What are you doing?!” Bakugo sputters. His face feels hot, and there’s a residual tingling in that area that he would rather not acknowledge. But it’s spreading throughout his body, making his legs shake.

“Part of the package,” explains Kirishima, but Bakugo doesn’t want to hear that or anything else. This isn’t happening. He’s completely immobile, he’s helpless, he’s about to be raped and there’s nothing he can do about it.

This isn’t happening, his mind repeats, but the mantra is replaced by shock once Todoroki’s fingers start easing in. Bakugo’s left staring at the ceiling, wincing with every press of a finger. There are two so far, scraping none-too-gently at his walls. He can’t imagine how this could be pleasurable for anyone, considering Todoroki’s purposely going slow (presumably for Bakugo’s benefit).

Todoroki’s fingers pull out and there’s a rustling noise. They come back wet and cold, which makes him yelp. Where Todoroki got the fluid, he can’t tell. Probably from one of his pouches. The uncomfortable drag of fingers along the walls of his ass increases tenfold when Kirishima decides he wants to get in on whatever Todoroki’s doing, too. His fingers join Todoroki’s and soon Bakugo can’t tell whose are whose, but they’re penetrating him together, curling and nudging and jabbing at the sensitive tissue. Is that how it’s supposed to feel, like his ass is about to be ripped at the seams with his hole physically being pulled open?

Deku’s muttering words of encouragement to him, phrases he can’t even bother to interpret. It’s hard to pay attention while being fingerfucked against his will.

The fingers soon pull out, and with them comes a squelching noise from the lubricant. He strains against Deku’s hold, growling in disgust as excess liquid trickles out of his hole.

“Wish I’d been first…” He hears Deku whine. Bakugo squeezes his eyes shut, fists clenching uncontrollably. Should he bother trying to force their faces out of his mind? Would he have rather been fucked by complete strangers ? Would he have fought harder, or less? Was he terrified because of the assault or because it was going to be inflicted by them?

Someone’s body is settling on top of his, their knees digging into the space between his splayed legs. Bakugo doesn’t even have to open his eyes to know, but he does anyway, breaths quickening as he’s forced to peer up at Kirishima. His face is inches away, and he’s looking down on him with an expression Bakugo’s never seen. The dopey smile is gone, replaced by a smirk and a piercing stare.

It’s the first time he’s looking at Bakugo like he wants to eat him whole.

He averts his gaze, flushing at the feel of Kirishima’s bare chest against his. His heart races. He knows what exactly’s poking him in the thigh.

Fuck.

Then Kirishima laughs. It’s his regular laugh, which terrifies Bakugo all the more.

“It’s not like you to look scared,” he tells Bakugo, hooking a finger into the neckline of his tanktop. Kirishima tugs at the seam of the orange fabric, pulling it down by a fraction and exposing more of his pale skin. But he doesn’t stop there, pulling it lower, and lower…

“Don’t. Fucking. Touch me.” That’s all he can do, sound menacing and pretend not to be scared out of his mind as Kirishima ra – violates him. But the redhead acquiesces to his request, letting go of the spandex. It snaps painfully against Bakugo’s chest.

“Alright, got it. I’ll leave the shirt alone for now.” He winks.

Bakugo is speechless. He has to keep reminding himself that this isn’t Kirishima.

It's just a fucked up quirk.

“It’s your first time, right?”

“What do you fucking think?” He snarls, legs knocking against the ones pinning them as he thrashes in anger. Why does he have to disguise this assault as some consensual fling, with shitty small talk and… Goddamn—

“Just get on with it already!”

“Okay, okay! Talk about excited…” Kirishima reaches his arm down in between them. Bakugo inhales sharply, realizing that Kirishima’s trying to position his dick. The head is nudging at Bakugo’s entrance, brushing against the lubricant and smearing it around.

“Bakugo. Breathe.” The worst part is how Kirishima looks like he genuinely cares. Only then does Bakugo notice that he’s started hyperventilating, mouth agape and gasping for air.

“I’ll make it good for you, promise.” His kiss is a lot more centered than Deku’s, but his teeth are everywhere, poking at Bakugo’s lips and tongue.

“Nggh!” He protests, fighting to get Kirishima’s tongue out of his mouth. Thing is, he has no idea how, with Kirishima gripping his chin with his free hand to hold him still. It’s too late to notice Kirishima’s cock breaching his rim.

Bakugo’s pained cry is swallowed up in the kiss. His vision goes white, head thrown back as he’s penetrated, inch by inch. “S-Shit…” Whatever Todoroki did to loosen him up clearly didn’t work. The ache of being stretched so forcefully is incomparable to anything else. His body is giving way against his will, straining to take Kirishima in.

“Ha-… Ah!”

“Kacchan is so cute,” Deku snickers.

“Yeah, he sure is.” Him and Kirishima share a knowing glance, ignoring the fact that Bakugo writhing in agony under them. It goes on for fucking forever, the ache sharpening considerably with every movement. There’s bound to be permanent damage from having his insides torn up like this. Oblivious to his pain, Kirishima continues staring at him in wonder.

“Woah, you’re just… Sucking me in.”

I’m not, Bakugo wants to say. You’re the one raping me.

Finally, Kirishima stills, sighing as he appears to be fully sheathed inside. But even without room to move further, the redhead keeps shifting, like it’s not quite right yet. He slips his hand under Bakugo’s back and lifts him off the floor slightly, finding the perfect angle. When he finds it he snaps his hips forward. As a result they end up clacking against the flesh of Bakugo’s inner thighs. He has to fight down a scream.

Deku’s hands have since let go, leaving Bakugo to instinctively grab on to Kirishima’s arms. There’s nothing else to brace against while his lower back is dragged back and forth across the floor.

“Goddamit, shitty hair,” he chokes out, nails digging into the muscles of Kirishima’s biceps. Everything, from his spine to his legs -- is shuddering in pain from each of Kirishima’s touches. “You’re not even trying to stop him, are you?!”

Kirishima is in the middle of developing a rhythm when he freezes at Bakugo’s words, wide-eyed. His face grows pale and he gasps, scar above his eye more prominent as his brows furrow. He whimpers, the complete opposite of the viciously confident Kirishima earlier.

“Please make me stop…”

The words leave his lips, soft enough for only Bakugo to hear. A momentary slip of control? Brief as it was, it was something. But as quickly as it came, it was gone, and Kirishima is back to languidly driving his cock in and out of Bakugo, mouth stretched in a self-satisfied grin.

He has to do something.

Bakugo jerks himself up, transfers his palms to Kirishima’s neck and starts squeezing as hard as he can. On a normal human he’d actually have a chance at knocking them out this way. It’s the only thing he can think of, and it’s a shitty, half-assed failure of a plan, aborted quickly when Kirishima hardens himself just like that. The skin sharpens into solid ridges that cut into Bakugo’s palms.

He lets out a squeak of pain, breaking his vow of silence. Perhaps if he screams for help, it will somehow spur the real Kirishima into taking back control of his body.

But this whole time, he’s fought off an overwhelming urge to beg. He’s not going to start now.

Kirishima notices his injury, taking one of Bakugo’s hands and nuzzling it affectionately (though he’s still fucking Bakugo faster, and the sound of their skin slapping together is growing in frequency and loudness). He doesn’t seem to mind that Bakugo’s blood is now smeared on his face. He presses Bakugo’s hand to the floor, palm up, and laces their fingers together. It’s a sickeningly romantic gesture, so unexpected that Bakugo lets out a humorless laugh.

Kirishima’s breaths ghost over the juncture of his throat. The first bite is tentative. It’s not painful – not yet, at least, but it’s fucking sick, his saliva moistening the skin of Bakugo’s neck.

“Gross…”

Kirishima smiles guiltily, row of sharp canines in full display. Bakugo used to think of them as interesting, maybe even bad-ass. Now they’re just revolting.

“Oh, sorry.”

He can scarcely believe that Kirishima would apologize for that, but not for ramming his dick in Bakugo’s ass.

“When this is over, I’ll snap your dick in half!” He doesn’t mean for the threat to come out shaky. Even to his own ears he sounds defeated. He will win, or at least, wants to believe he still have the chance.

(He tries to ignore the nagging thought that he’s already lost, because he’s already being fucked).

Kirishima snorts. “Always so manly. That’s kinda why I’ve always wanted to fuck you.”

Hearing those words shatters something inside him.

Because it makes him wonder whether Kirishima’s mind needed any nudging at all.

There’s nothing else to do but close his eyes while throwing an arm over his face. Maybe if he just stops reacting, Kirishima will get bored and stop. But the other male is getting louder, fueled by lust and losing gentleness.

“Fuck yeah…” Kirishima snarls. He’s lifting Bakugo’s waist higher, maneuvering his torso into an arc so that his head lolls back and only his hair is brushing against the floor. His thrusts are becoming irregular, dick pulling out less than half-way before shoving back in. Every lurch causes Bakugo to twist in pain.

“Slower, you idiot,” Bakugo says tiredly. “You’re gonna make me bleed.”

Kirishima’s eyes widen in alarm and he sets Bakugo back on the floor, pulling out and swiping at (what is presumably) blood on his own dick. “Ah, shit, think I already did. Sorry, man.” He tries to kiss Bakugo again, like that’ll somehow help. Bakugo wrenches his head to the side to avoid it.

Kirishima’s not really paying attention to his emotions anymore, because he ignores Bakugo’s rejection. The redhead looks so overly-eager that there’s no point in arguing, really. Either way he’s going to be mounted again like a dog.

“I’m so close, though. I mean, fucking you is the manliest thing I’ll ever do. So I gotta enjoy this while I can, right?”

“Bastard,” Bakugo hisses, blearily opening one eye. The rest of his face is still cushioned by his arm. “S’not like you’d take no for an answer.”

He’s not sure if it’s because of shock or if he’s just more accustomed to it now, as Kirishima shoves his way back in through the blood and lube just so he can have the satisfaction of coming inside him. It’s the moment that crushes the last of Bakugo’s dignity. After a few jerks Kirishima practically howls as he buries himself in Bakugo one last time, his head thrown back.

Bakugo doesn’t fight. He mostly stares. He promised he wouldn’t cry. He barely even moves or makes a sound, apart from the frustrated noise that escapes through his teeth. Kirishima’s come is warm, pooling at his insides, reminding him that his body is no longer his own.

He wants to throw up.

It’s worse when Kirishima pulls out because he can feel the liquid slowly spreading, inside and all around, since there’s nothing keeping it steeped in one spot. Bakugo continues to lie still. Moving might make it even worse, but letting everything just sit there, staining him, is already agonizing.

He’s unused to this feeling, of wanting to crawl away and die. The stickiness of his thighs, come oozing out of his ass. Kirishima’s come.  Memories of the redhead are flooding his mind, now colored with hatred. Even though he tries to remind himself that this is not Kirishima’s fault, since they’ve both been violated and abused.

But why is Bakugo the only one whose suffering is always on public display?

He barely registers Kirishima’s hands spreading his thighs, for some reason splaying them again. He thought they were done. It’s only when he (hesitantly) looks down that he notices Kirishima staring in awe, fingers swiping at Bakugo’s swollen rim. Turns out the Shitty Hair just wanted to admire his own handiwork.

Bakugo blinks and notices that no one is holding him down.

Kirishima is finished. Deku said he would take Kirishima’s place, so they’ll surely be jostling around for a while to get him in position. Kirishima’s distracted and from the corner of his eye Bakugo sees Todoroki and Deku’s figures slowly approaching. But there’s nothing in between him and Silvermask.

A chance.

Bakugo kicks Kirishima in the chest, sending him toppling backward. Quickly pushing himself to his feet, he takes off, hurling toward the man they call Master.

Get to him.

Kill him.

Deku and Todoroki yell in surprise. Bakugo sprints toward the throne. He manages five steps before his legs suddenly give way, sending him crashing to the floor on his hands and knees.

Quivering in frustration, he tries to stand. There’s nothing but numbness. The villain is ten feet away, so close. He hadn’t budged, not even when Bakugo ran for him. He knew. Bakugo growls, pounding his fist on the floor.

How foolish of him to overlook that side effect of being fucked.

Footsteps grow louder behind him.

“Kacchan,” Deku says, giggling. “How’d you know I wanted to do it doggy style?”

Bakugo’s hands are balled into fists but he doesn’t – can’t turn around, his own body unresponsive.

“I’ll rip your hands off!”

“You don’t mean that.”

It takes all of his strength not to cower as he feels Deku’s finger running down his spine, moving lower and stopping right at the dip of his ass.

“Oh?”

Bakugo bows his head, a pathetic attempt at hiding the humiliation in his face. He can feel it, the glob of Kirishima’s come gathering at his opening. Before it can trickle downward, Deku prods it and swirls it around.

“This is why I wanted to go first.” He sounds disappointed. “Now you’re already filthy.”

It’s excruciating, being called that. By Deku of all people. But anything that makes him unhappy is bound to give Bakugo some modicum of comfort. He didn’t give Deku the privilege of taking his virginity, so there’s that.

Not that he feels any better.

“Oh, well.” Deku nudges Bakugo’s legs apart, sending his heartrate spiking.

“Wait,” he gasps. It’s too soon, he’s already aching so fucking much. Being fucked by Kirishima already left his body and mind in shambles. Just the thought of being touched by Deku is close to sending him into cardiac arrest. Not Deku!

“Wait!”

Deku doesn’t.

Bakugo’s entire body jerks forward. Deku is definitely thicker than Kirishima, and the different angle has him prodding so deep that his dick is practically churning the contents of Bakugo’s stomach. Eyes widening in pain, he can’t suppress the yell ripped from his throat.

Deku’s inside him.

He wants to fucking die. He wishes Deku would lose control of his quirk and just end it already. Snap his neck or splatter his guts all over the floor, he doesn’t care.

Behind him, the other male can’t seem to focus on one thing at a time. His gloved hands are everywhere, scrabbling at Bakugo’s shirt, then squeezing his waist before settling on his hair and tugging. With a gasp of discomfort Bakugo’s head is pulled back, but he refuses to blink. Even though his eyes are watering and he’s groaning from having his neck strained (and his hole rammed, again and again and again), he refuses to cry. Not while in full view of the villain, who’s shut up for now to enjoy the show. Probably itching to hear every sound Bakugo makes.

The only advantage of this position is not having to look at Deku’s face. It’s easier to zone out and pretend he’s getting his ass torn up by someone else, instead of his possessed ex-childhood friend. It’s bad enough to have to listen to Deku’s gross panting. Bakugo shuts his eyes, ignores the slap of Deku’s balls against his skin every time he bottoms out. The movements are violent and erratic, threatening to snap his spine in half. When a hand hesitantly brushes against his soft cock, Bakugo slaps it away. To Deku’s credit, he doesn’t try again.

But instead he starts talking, which makes everything so much worse.

“Kacchan, you feel so amazing…” Deku’s fidgety hand is now rubbing one of his ass cheeks. Bakugo can feel the stare, can imagine perfectly those overly-huge green eyes sparkling in wonder. “I knew you were good at everything but jeez…”

“SHUT UP!”

He looks up at Silvermask, desperation and anger colliding into a bloodcurdling howl.

“You scumbag! Let them go and fight me like a man!”

The figure doesn’t react. There’s an air of amusement surrounding him as he peers down at Bakugo, who now regrets goading him while being on his hands and knees.

“You’re not in the position to give orders to anyone, Bakugo Katsuki.” He accentuates his statement with a flourish of his hands. “Not when you’re the one being fucked like a bitch.”

A sharp pain takes Bakugo’s attention away from the sting of Silvermask’s comment. With a strangled yell he turns around for the first time to look at Deku, whose fists are caging his waist and purposely digging in.

“Don’t talk to our Master that way,” Deku says calmly, but his face is screwed up in thinly-veiled anger. Bakugo can’t breathe from the amount of pressure. It’s dizzying, causing him to collapse onto his elbows.

“Idiot,” he bites out, distinctly aware that he’s now face down on the floor with his ass in the air. Apparently Deku’s determined to make him submit in every way possible.  “Not -- your -- Master…”

Deku ignores him, the intensity of his grip causing everything below the waist to go numb (and for that, perhaps he should be thankful. It no longer stings as much and he’s going to die like he wanted). Deku’s showing no hint of slowing down. There’s a complete lack of resistance from Bakugo’s body after finally having stretched enough around Deku’s dick for it to be comfortable. If one could call it that, after having his intestines rearranged. It hurts less even though Deku is going all out, his motions becoming frantic and inconsistent.

It’s the hands that are the problem, fingers spread out and grinding against and above Bakugo’s hipbones. He knows that familiar thrum of energy. At this rate, he’ll be disemboweled by Deku’s quirk.

His sense of self-preservation kicks in. No, he doesn’t want to die by Deku’s hands after all. Not when Deku’s already taken everything else from him.

“Deku, s-stop…” His voice comes out muffled from having his face pressed against stone. But his plea causes the pressure to immediately disappear. He can inhale again. His whole body shudders when he feels Deku bore down on him, chest covering his back.

A hand curls around his midsection, gently this time. Propping his ass up higher so Deku can bury himself to the hilt with ease.

“Kacchan, I’m gonna come now, ‘kay?” His breath is hot against his ear. Bakugo freezes, horror clawing its way up his stomach.

“Don’t – not in me,” he mumbles, face buried in his arms. Since earlier he’d decided that he hates the feeling of being ejaculated into, the filth permanently seared into his innards and poisoning him from the inside out. He makes a few attempts to crawl away but Deku keeps him in place with one hand and One for All.

“I’m so sorry, Kacchan—“ There’s a sob, and Bakugo belatedly realizes it came from Deku. The completely opposite of his cooing from moments earlier. But that doesn’t add up. Unless the real Deku somehow…?

All thoughts disappear the moment Deku empties inside him.

Bakugo screams, the loudest sound he’s made so far. It echoes to the point that his ears are ringing. Silvermask’s laughter quickly follows.

He is not given any respite. Deku flips him onto his back and drags him by the ankle toward the center of the room. His bruised and bleeding and stained body scrapes against the floor but the ache remains centered primarily in his backside. Friction causes his shirt to ride up, exposing his navel and he tries weakly to smooth it back down, but he can barely move his arms. The ceiling spins above him. When Bakugo blinks he instead finds blurry shades of white and red. Todoroki is there maneuvering him, adjusting his legs.

Soon his back is lifted, Todoroki hauling him up so that shaking thighs rest over his shoulders. Bakugo meets his gaze, mismatched eyes boring into his. Todoroki might as well be fucking a corpse. He’s dead weight at this point, unable to lift a finger.

When Todoroki starts bending him in half, pushing his knees toward his chest, Bakugo can only groan as he is forced into an even more uncomfortable and humiliating position. He kicks, feebly, but his leg just ends up sliding off Todoroki’s shoulder and the taller male just nudges it back in place before planting hands on the floor. His length is prodding Bakugo, trying to push in but he’s not quite able to.

“Stop clenching up,” Todoroki barks out and Bakugo just glares back because it’s not like he’s stiffening his body on purpose and yet is still being blamed for this shit while being fucked within an inch of his life.

“How ‘bout you stop trying to fuck me,” he shoots back. There’s a pause, and he wonders if Todoroki is on the verge of realizing what he’s doing, but the grip on his thigh just tightens and Todoroki only looks more irritated at the minor inconvenience of not being able to stuff Bakugo’s ass in one go.

He fingers Bakugo for a while, making him curse and wriggle as his oversensitive hole is further abused. Todoroki mutters something and his fingers start to warm. The heat emanating from them is dilating blood vessels on purpose, physically manipulating Bakugo’s body into relaxing.

Guess there are no limits to the creativity of their torture.

Todoroki is soon pressing his knees back again. Bakugo’s barely aware of the choked out noises he’s making as he bent in half. No – it’ll be as painful as the first time—

“Kacchan, don’t cry. Your eyeliner'll smudge.” He doesn’t even know when they got his mask off, but Deku is next to him, swiping at the corners of his eyes.  Bakugo wails when Todoroki slides in completely after murmuring something that vaguely sounds like “Sorry, Bakugo”.

His dick is unbearably hot. They might as well have speared him with a branding iron, because it’s searing through what feels like several layers of tissue, spreading all the way to his ribs.

He tries to bite off Deku’s fingers.

“Fuck you, you piece of shit Deku! You said you were getting stronger! Can’t even fight back against this asshole’s control, you— Ah!“

Todoroki pulls back and then breaches Bakugo to the hilt again, and the burn is so intense that his entire body seizes.

“Todoroki! That was mean.”

“Sorry, he was being noisy.”

“Get the fuck off of me!” He screams, thrashing. Deku keeps shushing him and eventually has to pin his hands again. Todoroki is unperturbed by his hysteria, too focused on cooking his insides. Maybe he’s trying to kill Bakugo via heat stroke. He pistons his hips methodically. In, out, hitting him in the same spot that has Bakugo squirming in discomfort. Somehow he maintains a steady grip on Bakugo despite having to support his entire weight.

Bakugo’s quiet sobs wrack his shoulders when Todoroki’s fluids join the rest, leaving his abdomen heavy with come. Todoroki lets him go and he's free to curl in on himself. He wants to claw out of his own body. His thighs are stickily rubbing together as he lies on his side, shivering. Dirty and used, evidenced by the sheer amount of come streaking down his legs, all the way into his boots.

Tears trickle from the corners of his eyes and he doesn’t bother hiding them anymore. His expression crumples, resolve finally breaking. The last thing he sees is Todoroki’s unreactive face as everything becomes hazy.

And then, darkness.

 “—So tight, I nearly hardened while I was in him, could’ve accidentally killed him—“

“Think he can handle two? Can barely wait—”

“…Think so, I even stretched him by increasing the temperature…”

The first thing Bakugo notices is the lack of pain.

He’s exhausted, though, barely able to move. He’s still sore and sticky, but no more than when they first started. Moreover, there’s an overwhelming urge to drift off back to sleep . From the drug? The fucking? He has no idea. Does it even matter?

Blearily, the ceiling comes back into view. Above him, the three are talking. How long was he out? Did they go a couple more rounds on his body? He doesn’t feel any different. Then again who is he to say whether being fucked thrice would feel the same as being fucked fifteen times or so?

Maybe he should go back to sleep.

After that, what’s the worst they could do?

Kirishima is the first to notice that he’s awake. Bakugo feels hands gripping his hair, hauling him up. He groans in protest. The aching in his limbs and back intensifies as the person holding him – Todoroki – forces him into a kneeling position.

Bakugo sways, nearly falling onto his side. He instinctively grabs out, curling his fingers into Todoroki’s shirt. Todoroki cups his face, looking down and examining it. Bakugo throws him the fiercest glare he can muster but all he can manage is a pout.

“Yeah, definitely awake,” Todoroki declares. Bakugo’s body threatens to collapse again, so the taller male takes a firm hold of his arms, while Bakugo desperately wills his knees not to buckle, his hands bunched up in the hem of Todoroki’s uniform.

He jerks forward unexpectedly at the sensation of fingers entering him, ending up balancing awkwardly on his knees while half-leaning on Todoroki. It doesn’t sting this time around, but the fingers part and Bakugo can’t help the undignified yelp that escapes him as come drips out of his ass and splatters on the floor with an audible sound. Face burning, he presses his face deeper into Todoroki’s jacket.

“Still so tight, look at that, he managed to keep most of it in without even trying…” Oh, so it’s Kirishima who’s massaging his hole like that. The commentary is mortifying to listen to but the redhead’s ministrations are gentle, almost relaxing. He plunges in slowly, deeper and deeper, until Bakugo can feel his knuckles brush against his hole. The pleasant tingling is fading, replaced by growing discomfort.

“Mmm!” He exhales, informing Kirishima that he’s gone too deep. Chuckling, the other male rears back. He goes back to scooping more fluid out, until Bakugo feels Kirishima licking around his rim, long and slow.

And it’s… Fucking weird, but not painful, and that’s the important part, right?

“Just making more space for me in there.” Bakugo’s breath hitches, because really? Again? Growing bolder, Kirishima alternates between using his tongue and his fingers, stirring something inside Bakugo that he willfully ignores.

“Feel like I can fit my whole fist in here.”

Bakugo looks around in alarm and hisses. “Don’t you dare!” He gets laughter in return, but Kirishima backs off.

“Some other time then.” Bakugo’s still not used to hearing Kirishima purr like that. It does funny things to his heartbeat, though that might also be from being licked clean by his friend’s enthusiastic tongue.

Kirishima’s not hurting him at the moment and that’s what matters.

Soon afterward Bakugo finds himself spread out on Kirishima’s lap. They’re face to face, shark teeth grinning at him as he positions Bakugo over his waiting dick. For a brief moment Bakugo panics, the memory of Kirishima tearing him still fresh in his mind. He grasps Kirishima’s forearms and stares, wide-eyed and pleading.

“Slowly,” he insists, and Kirishima nods and sets Bakugo down at a languid pace. Bakugo is prepared for the throbbing pain but unexpectedly, it never comes. He’s descended completely and shocked to find it doesn’t hurt. There’s just some lingering soreness but otherwise is pleasantly full, body well-adjusted to Kirishima’s girth.

The air has changed. Kirishima smiles upon seeing his puzzled expression and hands press against his face. He’s looking at Bakugo with unmistakable affection so Bakugo sees no reason to pull away. Their friendship was leading up to this for a long time, right?

Wait, that doesn’t sound correct, but his thoughts are too muddled to question. He can’t concentrate with everything that's going on.

The distance closes between them and they’re kissing. Bakugo wonders why he was so bothered before by Kirishima’s tongue being in his mouth.

Kirishima encourages him to bounce, and he does. He’s always looked out for him, right? By protecting him and withstanding everything Bakugo’s thrown at him. It’s easier to do as Kirishima says, since it’s not like he would ever let anything bad happen to Bakugo. And it does feel good, he might as well admit it. Every time Kirishima is all the way in, Bakugo has to bite his lip just to keep himself from asking the other male to do it again. Now that he’s stretched enough, Kirishima can fuck into him without hesitation. He’s still careful enough to avoid the bruises Deku left on Bakugo’s hips.

Bakugo freezes mid-bounce and immediately pulls back in fear when Kirishima bares his teeth. The wound in his throat stings, reminding him of earlier. But he’s pinned to the redhead’s cock and can only squeal as he’s pulled forward, Kirishima tugging the strap of his tanktop aside and biting down on the skin of Bakugo’s shoulder.

He yells in surprise, but instead of agony there’s a burst of pleasure that leaves him gasping and boneless in Kirishima’s arms. Bakugo arches his back, groaning from overstimulation.

It finally hits him what the drug was for. Every arousing sensation is magnified tenfold, and he’s too lost in them to feel properly horrified anymore. Kirishima’s lapping at his chest. The sting of jagged teeth puncturing his skin rapidly snowballs into pure bliss. Blood is rushing to his cock, his moans growing more high-pitched and sounding less like him.

There’s a round of chuckling at the undignified noises spilling out of his mouth. “Now he gets it,” Todoroki murmurs.

“Kacchan, your chest is really sensitive, huh?” Deku crouches next to them, pulls up Bakugo’s shirt and lowers his head. Bakugo thrashes as lips mouth at his other nipple.

“Dekuuu,” he protests, rocking forward. Todoroki has to snatch his wrists to keep him from slapping Deku upside the head. “Not – there,” he whimpers. Kirishima ends up the one having to push Deku away, laughing good-naturedly.

“Kirishima,” he mutters, breathless. His best friend. He’s glad to finally reconcile that image with the man who’s making him feel so good. Baku wraps his arms around the other male and kisses him – well, tries to anyway. He forgot that he’s still in the middle of riding him, so he misses and his kiss lands on Kirishima’s ear instead.

“Shh, I’ve got you, Bakugo. Feels good, right? Let me take care of you.”

“Harder,” he commands.

“I knew you’d come around sooner or later. You’re taking me so well, Bakugo, it’s amazing.”

He lets himself fall completely against Kirishima’s chest, whimpering into his neck as he comes, spurting all over their stomachs.

He hears Deku’s voice, ecstatic. “Kacchan came!” But he no longer has the energy to roll his eyes.

Kirishima forces Bakugo down by the shoulders this time, hitting a spot that makes both of them cry out in unison.

This isn’t so bad, right? It’s easy to imagine doing this back in the dorms at UA. But he’s thrown out of his daydream when something nudges at his cheek and he opens his eyes. Deku’s dick is right in front of his face. Bakugo pulls back in disgust and shakes his head.

“Bakugo,” Kirishima says with a mixture of fondness and exasperation. Bakugo looks at him, and the redhead is… Disappointed? His eyebrows are raised, expectant. Well? No, Bakugo doesn’t want that, but since Kirishima’s done so much for him...

“Fuckin’… Fine,” he grumbles, and opens his mouth. Deku pushes inside. Someone grabs his other hand (Todoroki, he assumes) and wraps it around another cock.

“The hell?” He tries to blurt, but what comes out is incoherent with Deku’s oversized length gagging him. He moves his jaw, hesitantly at first, before learning to engulf Deku’s cock in repeated motions. His fist works similarly for Todoroki’s, pumping up and down with the same rhythm.

All while Kirishima’s got him impaled on his cock.

Deku makes a bunch of irritating noises, but between his grunts Bakugo can make out compliments, and he enjoys the ones about his skill and technique. So he decides to let the damn nerd thrust all the way in, until the head is hitting the base of Bakugo’s throat, Bakugo’s face practically pressing against his pelvis.

Deku unexpectedly pulls out and comes all over his face, leaving Bakugo sputtering. It’s in his eyes, he can’t fucking see. Something splashes against his hair. Blearily he looks up. The motion causes the semen to drip from his hair onto his shoulders. He sees Todoroki smirking at him. Fucker did that on purpose.

“Gorgeous,” Deku mutters, streaking the come further down Bakugo’s neck. He tries not to shudder. Deku wouldn’t be so annoying if he were less talkative. “You’re meant for this, Kacchan.”

“No,” he insists. “I’m strong.”

“Of course you are, why else do you think we’re doing this?”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that. Kirishima quickly pulls back his attention by kissing Bakugo fiercely and at the same time driving up into him. The redhead comes with Bakugo clutching at his back and sobbing from the stretch.

“Wait…” He hates how whiny he sounds. With Kirishima having emptied inside again, Bakugo inwardly notes that it was nowhere near as bad as the first time. He doesn’t mind it as much anymore. Maybe because there’s so much in him already that adding a bit more makes no difference. Tightening his embrace around Kirishima’s neck, he presses his face against his chest. “Don’t go.”

Kirishima’s chest vibrates with laughter. “Midoriya and Todoroki deserve a turn too, don’t you think?” Bakugo shakes his head. No, they really don’t. They’ve already fucked him once each, isn’t that more than enough? And they got come on his face and hair. It’s not like they have the same connection to him that Kirishima has, so right now they can go fuck off and die for all he cares. Whatever he shares with Kirishima, the last thing he wants to do is share with them.

Kirishima looks amused as he slowly pries himself out of Bakugo’s grip. Large hands are hauling him out of Kirishima’s lap. Soon Bakugo finds he has been transferred to Todoroki’s instead, unnaturally warm chest pressed flush against his back. Todoroki palms his ass and lifts him, and all he can do is growl in annoyance as he’s impaled on Todoroki’s dick in one smooth motion.

“Dammit!” He hisses in pain at the white hot feeling of being seared inside out. Like earlier, Todoroki’s cock is scalding. “You trying to burn me alive? Stupid Toro– Toko – half and half!”

“My apologies.”

The tension seeps out of Bakugo as he feels the temperature drop inside him, lowering to a more comfortable one that leaves everything below the waist pleasantly warm. His body relaxes against Todoroki’s, who seems content at just having Bakugo sit on his dick because he’s not doing anything else.

Deku ruins the moment by kneeling in front of them, hardness in grip. Bakugo has to resist the temptation to tell him to fuck off and wait his turn, the impatient little shit. Though apparently Todoroki has other ideas, because he’s leaning back and pulling Bakugo’s thighs apart. It gives Deku the perfect view of just how closely they’re conjoined. With a hungry gaze on him Deku nudges forward, pressing his dick against Bakugo’s already occupied hole.

Overcome with panic, Bakugo tries to scramble backward. It gets him nowhere of course, since he’s caged between Todoroki and Deku’s bodies. Sensing his fear, Kirishima walks over. Bakugo grabs his hand, staring up at the crimson eyes gazing into his own.

“Don’t let them!” Bakugo whispers, desperate and refusing to let go of Kirishima’s palm. He doesn’t understand. Last time Kirishima clasped his hand like this, warm and tight, he’d brought Bakugo to safety. But there’s not much comfort in his grip, because otherwise Kirishima remains standing there doing nothing. “Help me?” The voice doesn’t sound like his own. Bakugo doesn’t know why he keeps nuzzling his face against the hand like a dog. But Kirishima won’t mind that he’s practically soiling his hand with tears and come, right?

He doesn’t care anymore how pathetic he sounds, he just wants Kirishima to take him home.

There’s a moment wherein Kirishima looks down at him, with an expression akin to pity, but it’s brief and Bakugo’s vision is too blurry from crying that it probably didn’t happen at all. Kirishima says nothing. But he lets his hand be held.

Deku pushes in with a grunt, crushing Bakugo against Todoroki. It jolts him, causing him to kick out. There’s a loud skidding noise, from the heel of his boot scraping against the floor but it’s lost in Deku and Todoroki’s satisfied groans as they try their utmost to tear Bakugo into two. He stifles his own scream by biting down on Kirishima’s knuckles. The pain of having two cocks inside at once is blinding, but not strong enough to make him pass out. He wishes it had been. It’s too much. The rest of his are cries muffled against skin and his back arches from the pain, which Deku takes as an invitation to play with his chest and gnaw on his neck.

“Hurts…” His voice cracks just from uttering that single word.

“No, no, I promise. It feels good, Bakugo, just focus on the pleasure, okay?”

He closes his eyes, wanting so badly to follow Kirishima’s instructions, but he quickly realizes he doesn’t know how to do that. Tuning out the pain is impossible. He’s so full, afraid to look down in fear of seeing what his stomach might look like, with so much come and multiple dicks inside him.

Todoroki and Deku are moving, developing some sort of rhythm. Bakugo’s eyes glaze over, overwhelmed by the myriad of sensations. He can’t focus, can barely form sentences in his head. So instinctively he wriggles and moans at Deku’s hands pinching his flesh. Todoroki’s mouthing at his throat, leaving a hickey to match the one Deku made on his other collarbone. His hand is pumping Bakugo’s cock to hardness, a small respite from the back-breaking pain as his body struggles to accommodate them both.

They’re both sheathing themselves in him at the same time, and with every thrust the world spins and Bakugo cries out, tipping his head back to rest against Todoroki’s shoulder. Deku kisses his open mouth, chest brushing against his and no doubt feeling the tremors wracking his oversensitive skin.

The pain starts to dull. Bakugo wonders if it’s possible to fuck someone hard enough to sever a nerve. They’re still hell bent on reaching the deepest parts of him and the sensation has turned electric, making him gasp and squirm. Cheek still pressed against Kirishima’s knuckles, Bakugo opens his eyes. He’s completely wrecked, and the two haven’t even come yet. But Kirishima has remained patiently waiting this whole time, hovering over Bakugo protectively.

He appreciates the gesture, inexplicably wishing Kirishima would fuck him again and wash away the residue from Todoroki and Deku. Bakugo steals a glance at Kirishima’s dick. It’s only a few inches away from his face. Has he been hard this whole time? Bakugo’s mouth waters. He craves it, the careful glide of Kirishima’s length inside him rather than Todoroki, who fucks too much like a machine and Deku, who fucks like a wounded hippo.

(Though they’re not so bad right now. For some reason drilling him at the same time is what it takes for Bakugo to sort of enjoy them fucking him. But...)

He just really, really loves Kirishima’s cock.

Apparently he said that out loud because Deku slows down and pouts at him. “Aw, what's wrong with mine, Kacchan?”

“Too fuckin’ big,” he says without thinking. The drug is making him say everything that comes to mind. Though Bakugo’s surprised by how little he cares. “Scramblin’ my insides, Deku.”

Then Bakugo yelps because his internal walls have literally gone cold for a moment, and the other three share a laugh.

“Forgetting someone?” Todoroki says. His voice sounds low and dangerous. Bakugo breathes a sigh of relief as the other male’s cock returns to its normal temperature, warming him up again.

 “Todoroki, that’s mean.”

“What? He likes it.” Bakugo nods fervently. He’s not sure why he’s agreeing with Todoroki now, but it just seems right to. There’s no point in fighting when they’re just trying to help, right? They want to please him. Todoroki’s hands methodically work his dick, pushing him closer to completion.

Todoroki reaches the finish line first, sighing as he does it. Bakugo comes soon after, ejaculating onto Deku’s shirt. This seems to really please Deku because he smiles even wider and lays Bakugo on his back once Todoroki pulls out, dick still buried in his ass.

“Hey...” Bakugo calls, slurring a bit as he tugs at Kirishima’s arm. The redhead looks down at him and Bakugo cranes his neck, half-lidded eyes meeting his gaze. “Lemme suck your cock.”

“How could I say no to that?” Laughing, Kirishima obliges and kneels over Bakugo’s head. He soon pushes himself onto his hands, crouching above him. The shining head of his dick is right above Bakugo’s lips. He licks it tentatively, causing Kirishima to groan and rock himself forward. Without warning Bakugo takes it in whole and hums with pleasure. Kirishima tastes good, he wants more.

Deku continues to pound him into the floor with reckless abandon. He’s muttering  unintelligibly and Bakugo only catches snippets of it. “Kacchan, Kacchan, yes-!” Kirishima’s also whispering his name, and fuck if he doesn’t feel proud at how well he’s taking both of them. He’s gotten the hang of blowjobs, letting Kirishima deepthroat him until his eyes water.

“Fuck, that’s amazing. Midoriya, you should try it from this angle, let’s switch.” Bakugo’s mouth’s too full to protest, but he realizes, it’s not like he actually will. Deku’s dick may be big but he’s no longer bothered about the Deku aspect of it all. He’s sure he can work it without much effort.

Kirishima tastes mostly salty and Bakugo hurries to swallow all of the liquid down. There’s a bit left in his mouth and he gurgles. He can’t help but giggle at himself at having made such a weird sound.

Kirishima changes places with Deku and pushes into his sopping hole. “Kiriii-!“ he keens, or tries to anyway as Deku interrupts him by shoving a dick in his mouth. That doesn’t stop Bakugo from moaning in pleasure. The three seem to like how vocal he’s being, because they’re all smiling at him, even Todoroki. He relishes the collective warmth of their gazes. From far away, he hears the man in the mask – Master, he reminds himself, doing… Something. Applauding, it sounds like? He’s not sure. Really, he doesn’t know why he was complaining earlier, they were just trying to make him feel good. He gets it now.

Deku’s fingers are carding through his hair. Distantly he feels Kirishima pull out, but the familiar fingers interlaced with his remain there and his palm receives a comforting squeeze. He must be shifting places with Todoroki again, and sure enough, a familiar body part is pushing against his loose entrance and plugging up what Kirishima left behind. Bakugo spreads his legs, lifting them to rest on Todoroki’s shoulders. He knows how much Todoroki likes that position.

Bakugo makes a mental note to request something from Kirishima when Deku’s through fucking his mouth. He doesn’t want his best friend to feel out after all, not while Deku and Todoroki get to spitroast him. So hopefully he can convince Kirishima to come all over his chest. Then Deku could lick it all up. Yeah, they’d enjoy that. Bakugo’s hands reach for his own nipples, pinching and squeezing in anticipation.

With a strained grunt Deku ejaculates and it’s there in torrents, so delicious that Bakugo whimpers just trying to guzzle it all down, relishing the warm come flooding his throat. But it’s too much, it dribbles down the corners of his mouth as he looks up at Deku’s beaming face. Bakugo grins, shows off his white-stained tongue. At the same time he’s spreading a palm under his own face to try and catch the excess semen. He wants to save all of it and stuff it back into himself once Todoroki is done.

Deku’s come is dripping down his chin. “M-more please, Deku?”

He doesn’t expect to see three matching expressions of horror on his friends’ faces. The image stuns Bakugo a bit, so he blinks, and in a flash it’s gone. Probably never even happened in the first place. This whole time, they’ve kept him warm and safe. Kirishima is proudly looking down at him as always, and Todoroki is focused on trying to fill him up. Deku, again gazing at him with utmost adoration.

“Of course, Kacchan,” Deku replies fondly, already guiding his dick back into Bakugo’s waiting mouth.