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Put the Meat on My Bones

Chapter Text

P U T  T H E  M E A T  O N  M Y  B O N E S

C H A P T E R  O N E

-tripped on my stepping stone-

The first day of classes at this shitty-expensive university reminded Katsuki a lot of his first day at U.A. Most hero classes started off with an assessment of their quirks—all but one, that is. Yamazaki’s idiotic Intro to Rescue.

Their task for today was to regulate damage control while simultaneously helping civilians make it to the ‘safe zone’. Bakugou could begrudgingly admit that this wasn’t an area that he shined in like his fellow classmates. But, all things considered, he didn’t think he did half bad. The nature of his quirk was destructive, but he’s spent years honing it to help and protect as well as fight and destroy. He still wasn’t perfect by any means, and there was a lot of carnage of the makeshift cityscape as a result.

So when Yamazaki asked to see him after class, he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the conversation they’d have.

“Fine,” He muttered to his professor, crossing his arms and glaring at the other students who were pointing at him and whispering back and forth with each other. He flipped the bird to every single one of the fuckers, pairing it with his prettiest sneer. Yamazaki waited patiently for the students to trickle off the training grounds and turned to Katsuki only when they were alone.

“I’ve heard all about you, Bakugou,” Yamazaki declared, brushing fingers through his hair that was as navy blue as his astral projections. He glanced down at his clipboard, no doubt assessing Katsuki’s worth using some shitty numbers and calculations, “Your acceptance into this institution hinged on your letters of recommendation. Imagine our surprise when not only Eraserhead endorses your studying to become a hero, but All Might as well. It’s not everyday that such prestigious heroes recommend anyone to any hero university ever, considering that all the notable heroes study for their license exam in high school.”

Katsuki bristled, really not liking this conversation.

“Am I too noteworthy for you then, asshole?”

“On the contrary,” Yamazaki disagreed with a fake sort of pleasantness that was getting on every single one of Bakugou’s nerves, “I’m not impressed by a punk kid who got kicked out of the best hero school the world has to offer on the premise that he was too aggressive and violent. Your performance in class today has only cemented what I already knew: you’re not cut out to be a hero. Makes me wonder what delusion the very teacher’s who agreed to expel you were envisioning when they wrote your endorsements.”

Katsuki knew what Yamazaki was doing—and that pissed him off even more. There were a thousand insults at the tip of his tongue, but he kept his mouth shut—it took the willpower of his entire being to do so. His teacher was trying to get a rise out of him, to unleash the anger that constantly sat in his bones, trying to summon it to his blood and turn all that potential anger into something kinetic and destructive like so many assholes before him. Katsuki could read between the lines—if Bakugou wasn’t cut out to be a hero, then he must be cut out to be a villain.

What bullshit.

“Do you have anything to say to that, Bakugou?” Yamazaki asked in that disgustingly sweet, fake voice.

The fact that he couldn’t speak made him even angrier. He felt manipulated and weak. Like his professor was purposefully pushing every last one of Katsuki’s buttons just to watch him squirm and suffer. Like he was being looked down upon.

Katsuki forced his head side to side, knuckles turning white with how hard he was clenching his fists.

“Anything at all?”

“Nope,” Katsuki bit out, proud with how well he was holding back the floodgates of wrath, “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about, Professor?”

Yamazaki’s beady eyes assessed him for a moment longer—Katsuki wondered what he must have looked like. There was a fiery rage burning just behind his ribcage, but he was doing everything within his power to not let it show outwardly. What sort of opening was this asshole looking for, and how long could Katsuki hold out?

“That was it,” The bastard professed, “I’ll be seeing you on Wednesday.”

Then the blue haired fucker turned and walked to the lockers.

Katsuki waited a good five minutes before stomping after him, stripping out of his uniform and angrily getting dressed back into his street clothes. He slammed his locker shut using all the energy his muscle could muster up, and the slam it made against the metal was satisfying enough to the blonde that he could wait just long enough to make it to that trash fucked beach to unleash his fury. He was glad that campus wasn’t far away from that makeshift dump.

When Bakugou was kicked out of U.A. he remembered that fucking beach where sunken debris and shit comes in with the tide—he blew up a lot of shit there that day when Aizawa told him he was expelled. It became therapeutic to the blonde, and he’s been going there ever since. Might as well take out his anger doing something productive, after all.

He pushed his body forward, practically sprinting to the beach. What he saw when he got there had him reeling.

There was a green haired dweeb in an All Might shirt carrying a fridge on his shoulder like it didn’t weigh a damned thing. On his fucking beach. It was essential for Katsuki’s little therapy sessions of blowing shit up for him to be alone. Just Katsuki, the trash, and his motherfucking fists. No green haired nerds bench pressing fridges for fun.

“Hey,” He yelled, startling the green haired bastard. Up close Katsuki noted that the dweeb was actually older than he originally thought—he was probably in his early thirties if the crinkles around his eyes were anything to go by. His green hair sat atop his head in wild curls, and everything about his features screamed innocent and defenseless despite the large appliance he was toting around like a duffle bag, “The fuck are you doing?”

“Er,” The stranger annunciated beautifully, adjusting his grip on the fridge, “Cleaning this beach?”

“The fuck you are!” Katsuki disagreed, fists smoking and he was this close to blowing his fuse, “I saw it first, get your own shitty beach to clean.”

The man regarded his steaming hands with a quirked eyebrow.

“No,” He said, amused.

“Excuse me?”

“No. I’m not leaving—I’m going to help you clean this beach.”

“I don’t need your fucking help!”

The man sighed, “Look you can stay over here and unleash your obviously pent up anger, and I can go over there and do my own thing—we both win. In the end we may even walk away as unlikely friends.”

The rage was beginning to boil over and Katsuki had to put a stop to it pronto. “Fucking fine!” He screeched as he unleashed one of his bigger explosions onto a sizeable heap of trash. It obliterated everything it touched, and Katsuki breathed in the smoke with flared nostrils. Ash rained down around them and the satisfaction of destroying something like that washed over the blonde like an elixir. He glared at the green bean, who was now staring at what used to be a pile of junk with awe in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to say something, but Katsuki beat him to the punch, “Don’t talk to me.”

The bastard closed his mouth, shrugged and wandered over to the other side of the beach to begin crushing appliances and old shitty cars with his bare hands—which was kind of freaky but also kind of hot. Katsuki wasn’t in the mood to dwell on that, so he promptly got to work setting fire to this place.

With each explosion that left his hands he could feel the stress and rage that had been eating away at his insides trickle out into the ash and smoke around him. He wasn’t exactly sure how long he and the green haired bastard stayed there wreaking havoc on this dump, but Bakugou didn’t relent until the sun started drifting closer to the horizon.

When he decided enough was enough, he was panting and the muscles in his arms were screaming at him. There was sweat pooled on his brow and he lifted up the bottom of his shirt to wipe at it. When he lowered it down to wipe at his jawline, he glanced over at the dweeb. He expected for the stranger to be focused on being a human garbage disposal, but instead Katsuki caught him checking him out.

Bakugou smirked.

“Got an eyeful, green bean?” He called over to him.

The bastard didn’t even look ashamed, but did have the courtesy to lazily trail his gaze back up to the blonde’s eyes instead of his exposed stomach. His glazed-over stare sharpened, and the bastard smirked at Bakugou, winking.

Bakugou dropped his shirt and flipped him off.

“Fuck you,” Katsuki grit out, albeit not as aggressively as earlier since he managed to tame his anger.

The idiot just smiled, wiggling his fingers in a wave with one hand and crushing an old television with the other.


That shouldn’t be attractive.

“Hope we can do this again sometime!” The fucker called after him as he began to walk away.

“As if,” Katsuki yelled back.




Upon checking the time, Katsuki discovered that he had a couple of hours before he had to be into work. He’d moved out as soon as he graduated high school and had been living in this part of town for a couple of years. He started working, then, when he turned twenty-one, traded his shittier job for a slightly less shitty job as a bartender at a place near campus. Girls and even a few guys would tip him handsomely if Katsuki could heckle them into buying more drinks and smile prettily enough. All in all, it was a pretty good set up. Paying rent and buying food was still a little tight, but he managed.

Katsuki jingled his keys as he approached his apartment. He eyed the parking spots reserved for their apartment and noticed that Shinsou’s black motorcycle was parked outside. He went to the mailbox first, rolling his eyes when he saw that his bastard roommate was too lazy to pick it up himself, then he stomped over to his apartment door and unlocked it.

“What’s up, fucker?” He greeted Shinsou’s fluffy cat, Voldemort, while flicking through the mail.

“Oh hey, Bakugou,” Shinsou replied from his spot on the couch. He was sprawled out across the entire thing, a pencil between his teeth and papers in his hands, “Not a lot, just reading through this year’s curriculum for my classes. You?"

“Was talking to Voldy, asswipe,” He flung all of Shinsou’s mail at his face, “But since you asked, life is bleak and people are fucking annoying as ever.”

Shinsou lowered the papers onto the coffee table, not even flinching when his mail smacked his face.

“Lay it on me, man,” He suggested, trying with all his might to hold back his amused smirk since he knew how much it pissed Katsuki off.

“When did you become my fucking therapist?”

Shinsou shrugged, “You’re the one proclaiming life is bleak. Usually people elaborate when they assert such things.”

“What is there to elaborate on? Life is bleak. It just is.”

“Whatever, man,” Shinsou placated, “You gonna make it to practice tonight?”

Shinsou had been on the school’s hero sports team since he started at this university years ago; Katsuki had tried out over the summer and made it on easily. Since they started practice a couple of months ago, Shinsou was often paired up with Bakugou since he was one of the few that could handle his abrasive attitude so easily.

“Nah, bro,” Bakugou responded, petting Voldemort behind the ears, “I have to work tonight. Sorry. I know it sucks for you when we can’t train together.” Every other week they had two on two battles with different universities, and Katsuki and Shinsou surprisingly made a good team. Probably because Bakugou liked that Hitoshi was unafraid to use his quirk on him if he was becoming too hot headed and stubborn.

The coach was pretty understanding of his situation and was okay with him missing practice to work as long as Katsuki informed him ahead of time, but he still felt like a piece of shit for making Shinsou have to train by himself.

Shinsou shrugged, “I understand. You’re working your ass off to pay your way through college. Nothing wrong with that.”

Katsuki scowled at the cat, which fell onto his back and was swatting his paw up at Katsuki’s dangling finger. Bakugou agreed with Shinsou, but wouldn’t openly admit to his roommate that sometimes his efforts never felt like enough. He ran himself into the ground most days just to pay for rent, tuition and food—all the while an obnoxious voice was at the back of his head telling him that if he had just gotten over his anger management issues when he was a kid, he wouldn’t be in this shitty situation. Now he had actual classes on top of all of his other responsibilities—he felt like he was gonna die.

“Thanks,” He grumbled to Shinsou, because he was trying to be more honest with how he felt. Particularly when it came to feelings of gratitude and affection. Aizawa told him that doing so might help with his inferior complex. It pissed Bakugou off to no end when the shitty bastard ended up being right.

Bakugou’s ringtone cut through the awkward silence—neither one of them really knew how to act or what to say when Katsuki was being sincere like this—and the blonde dug through his pockets and lifted it to his ear.

“What?” He growled into the receiver.

Bakugou!” Shitty Hair’s annoyingly cheerful voice sang into his ear, “Wow. It is always a pleasure to hear your grumpy voice! How are you doing, man?”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. When he was kicked out of U.A. he tried cutting all ties with his old classmates—wouldn’t respond to their texts, wouldn’t go to their stupid birthday parties when he’d get an invite in the mail, none of that shit—but when all of his other classmates gave up, Kirishima persisted. When half n’ half and ponytail girl sent Bakugou an invite to their wedding in the spring, he was just as determined to skip out on that just like everything else. But Kirishima tracked him down, forced a suit into his hands and somehow convinced him to come along.

We all miss you, Bakugou,” The redhead had told him. Bakugou was incapable of wrapping his head around it—they really missed the angry jackass that didn’t last three months at the greatest hero school the world has to offer? He realized that day that he was scared of what they all thought about him. And fuck if he didn’t face his fears head on. He also realized that day, for the most part, none of them looked down on him and it was his own insecurities making him feel like shit.

“I’m fucking fantastic as always, asshole,” He told Kirishima, a small trickle of the appreciation and fondness he felt for his friend escaping into his response, “What the hell’re you calling for?”

The gang is all getting together tonight for drinks and Mina lost a bet so she’s paying. You coming?”

Katsuki grunted, “Can’t. Gotta work tonight.”

Aw,” Eijirou whined, and Katsuki imagined that if they were speaking face to face that he’d have a pitiful frown on his usual smiley face, “You’re always working, Bakugou!”

“Yeah well, I got to pay my damn way through college.”

I know, I know. But you never let us visit you at work—when else would we even be able to see your cheery face?”

“I don’t let you visit because you’re all a bunch of nuisances!”

Don’t let Todoroki hear you say that!” Bakugou heard Kaminari’s voice yell. It was muffled and Katsuki barely was able to understand him, so the blonde assumed that Kaminari and the other fuckmunches were probably huddled around Kirishima as he was talking on the phone with Bakugou.

“Half n’ half is there with you?” Katsuki inquired, standing up and trailing over to the fridge to peek inside, “Now I really don’t want you to visit.”

Don’t you and Shouto train together sometimes?” Kirishima asked, voice dripping with curiosity.

Katsuki’s eyebrows furrowed—it’s not like either Bakugou or Todoroki approached the other with the desire to train together. They just happened to go to the same gym, and the icyhot bastard was a challenging opponent. So what if they sometimes go out for lunch afterwards?

Shinsou snickered from his place on the couch.

You guys go out to lunch!?” Kirishima exclaimed, sounding affronted, “Why don’t you guys ever invite me?”

Fuck, he’d said that out loud.

“I make you food all the damned time, you leech,” Katsuki argued, slamming the fridge shut when he saw there was nothing appealing to eat, “I need some fucking good tips tonight, and you assholes will scare off everyone—you’re all too much of a riot when you’re drunk.”

We’ll be good, we promise!” Mina’s shrill voice insisted in the background.

Please, Bakugou? Pleeeease?”

“Fuck!” The blonde bit out, “Do whatever you want! I don’t give a fuck!”

There was a chorus of excited ‘yays’.

“I got to get ready to go,” Bakugou growled, “Try not to make complete asses of yourselves tonight.”

Bye, Blasty!” They all sang. Bakugou promptly hung up on them.

Katsuki stormed out of the living room.

“Have a good night, Bakugou!” Shinsou called down the hallway. Katsuki answered him by slamming his bedroom door as hard as he could.




That night at The Bar was slower than it’s ever been in Katsuki’s entire time working there. He was honestly kind of glad that his friends were going to swing by at some point and lighten up the dead ass atmosphere.

He was drying off a rack of wine glasses with a towel when a familiar voice greeted him from the other side of the bar.

“I knew I recognized you from somewhere!”

Katsuki glanced up, red eyes meeting big ass green ones.

It was the fucker from the beach, and he wasn’t alone—the bastard had his arm wrapped around a brunette’s waist. Katsuki immediately took note that her eyes were as big and round as freckles’ and that she was short and cute and looked like she wanted to take on the whole damn world.

“Green bean,” Katsuki addressed the dweeb with a smirk, forcing an air of politeness in his tone, “What can I get for you?”

“Ah,” The green haired man started sheepishly, as if forgetting that he was at a bar, “Two margaritas, please.” He offered the blonde a bill that was folded between his middle and pointer fingers.

Katsuki nodded, took the money and set to work fixing their drinks.

“What’s your name?” The girl asked, sitting down at the bar with green bean as the blonde mixed an array of flavors into their tequila.

Katsuki froze in his ministrations, glancing up at the girl in surprise. Honestly he was a little put out to see that green bean and angelface were obviously together, but, staring into her brown eyes, he couldn’t decide which one he was jealous of. They were here trying to have a fun night out together, and he wasn’t exactly expecting them to strike up a conversation with him.

He looked back to the drinks, sliding them across the bar to the pair.

“Bakugou Katsuki,” The blonde replied as he punched in buttons to the cash register, placing the green bean’s money inside and counting out his change. He slid that to the bastard too.

“Katsuki?” The girl repeated. Bakugou’s eyebrows disappeared behind his spikes, surprised that this girl was forward enough to address him by his first name so quickly. She smiled at him, the low lighting creating shadows across her face that were almost as captivating as her face itself. “My name is Ochako. Izuku here was telling me that he met a really cute guy with a furious temperament today at the beach.”

Katsuki’s eyes widened, and he tore his gaze away from her and to the green haired bastard—Izuku, apparently. Just like before when he caught the idiot checking him out, Izuku didn’t look ashamed whatsoever. He just brought his drink to his lips, and winked.

“Was he?” Bakugou questioned without breaking eye contact with the green haired man, not really knowing what the hell kind of thing was happening but surprisingly wanting to investigate more.

“You already caught me checking you out,” Izuku said, “No point hiding it. I thought I recognized you as the hot as hell bartender here, and I had to bring Ochako to meet you too.” Ochako hummed, leaning back and trailing her eyes up and down Katsuki’s body like she was assessing whether or not she agreed with Izuku’s proclamation that he was ‘hot as hell’.

“He’s not as angry as you said he was, Izuku,” She said as her eyes finally settled on Katsuki’s intense gaze.

“You’re flirting with me,” Katsuki stated bluntly, glaring at the pair of them and returning to his task of buffing glasses. He couldn’t help but shoot daggers at them; people mentioning his anger management issues just made him perpetually pissed off, “Both of you.”

“Bingo,” Ochako chimed, sipping at her drink.

Katsuki snorted, “I’m flattered. But you’re both bright-eyed angel fuckwits who don’t want a thing to do with me. Trust me.” His next statement was meant more for the green haired bastard, “I was blowing shit up at the beach for a reason. To not fucking pulverize someone. You want someone like that in your life, even if it is for one shitty night?"

They regarded him lazily, considering his words.

“You in school?” Izuku asked, ignoring Katsuki’s rant.

“I go to the university across the street.”

“What are you studying?”

“You saw my fucking quirk,” Bakugou growled, “What do you think?”

Izuku smirked, “Hero course?”

“Fucking yes.”

“If you want to be a hero bad enough to pay the ridiculous fees these universities charge, how bad of a person could you be?”

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed at the man, “You don’t know a thing about me.”

Izuku’s determined twinkle in his eyes didn’t waver for a second at Katsuki’s angry tone or at his murderous gaze. “Bakugou Katsuki, huh? You scored higher on the U.A. entrance exam without gathering any rescue points than anyone ever had before and that title still remains—you were expelled three months into your first year for being an aggressive asshole.”

The glass Katsuki was gripping exploded in his hands, not even by the use of his quirk but by the angry grip he kept on it. Shards of bloody glass fell onto the bar top, and the blonde didn’t even care that he’d just cut himself. He was seething.

“How the fuck do you know any of that?”

Izuku calmly stole Katsuki’s bar towel from his hands and pressed it against his bleeding palm as he offered his explanation, “That was my first year teaching at U.A.”

“Who the fuck are you?” He demanded, wrenching his hand out of Izuku’s grasp and applying pressure to his hand by himself.

Izuku only smiled.

Katsuki snarled, “Okay, bastard. What do you want from me?”

Ochako rolled her eyes, “I thought we already made that clear.”

Katsuki glared at her, grabbing another towel to clean up the mess of glass on the counter, “A fuck?”

“A date,” Izuku corrected.

“A date,” He repeated incredulously, “Hold my hand and walk me home type of shit?”

Ochako nodded, eyes shining with sincerity, “Izuku kind of just dropped a bomb on you, I know. But we promise that we don’t mean you any harm. We would like to get to know you more.”

The whole thing sounded suspicious to Bakugou.

“But you don’t want to fuck.”

“That’s not what I said,” She amended, “That can come later, if you want. But for now: a date.”

“Only if you tell me who the fuck you are,” He said defiantly.

Izuku considered this for a moment, staring into Katsuki’s intense red gaze with a look just as determined and powerful. Just as he opened his mouth to answer Katsuki, the bell at the front of The Bar rang and Bakugou’s rowdy friends stumbled through the door.

“Bakugou!” Kirishima exclaimed, running towards the bar excitedly. He sat down at the bar, slamming some money onto the counter. Kaminari and Ashido were right behind him, and when Katsuki glanced back at the door he saw Todoroki, Yaoyorozu and Sero making their way over slowly. Kirishima glanced over to the couple to his right, eyes widening, “Midoriya-sensei! What are you doing here?”

Izuku smiled, placing a hand on Ochako’s shoulders, “Even teachers can go out drinking, Eijirou.”

“You remember my name?” Shitty hair sputtered, a dusting of pink spreading across his cheekbones.

“Of course,” Green bean stated happily, “You were one of my best students.”

“What about me, sensei?” Mina bellowed, slinging an arm around green bean’s shoulders, “I was one of your best too!”

Izuku chuckled, and Katsuki had to admit the deep vibrato was alluring in so many ways. “Yes, Mina. All of you were fantastic.”

“It’s been so long! Why haven’t you invited me over to check out your agency?”

Ochako chimed in, “You’re welcome to visit whenever you’d like, Mina. You should know that already.”

Mina squealed upon seeing Ochako, “Ochako! My favorite classes of Midoriya-sensei’s were always the one where he brought you in to help! You kicked all of our asses! It was awesome!”

“Midoriya-sensei, Ochako-sensei,” Todoroki greeted as he and Yaoyorozu made it to the bar, “It’s been a while.”

Sero rolled his eyes, “Your agencies are right next door to each other, Shouto. Didn’t you team up with them last week?”

Katsuki’s eyes widened upon hearing this—he wasn’t a nerdy shit when it came to pro heroes like a lot of his classmates had been and now are, but he paid attention enough. He’d watched the incident Todoroki had been involved with on the news as it played on the television at The Bar. The number one hero had come in to help Shouto fight off the villain and the number six hero had been set helping direct civilians away from the conflict. These two dweebs couldn’t actually be such famous heroes, could they?

Shouto shrugged, “I see all of you more often.”

Yaoyorozu lifted the bottom of her shirt and used her quirk to procure a fake daisy, handing it to Ochako with a smile.

Ochako squealed, taking the flower and tucking it behind her ear, “Izuku, your former students are so polite!”

Izuku chuckled, “When they’re not being little shits, yes.” He sighed, glancing back at Katsuki and slipping a couple of bills and a slip of paper across the bar to him. Katsuki, feeling a little numb and confused, could do nothing but accept it. He watched, mouth agape as Izuku and Ochako began pulling on their jackets. They addressed Bakugou’s shitty friends, “I think it’s time we got going. Don’t have too much fun tonight.”

“Right back at you, Midoriya!” Kaminari said, wiggling his eyebrows at the couple.

Katsuki rolled his eyes. Good to know that Pikachu still had the same shitty sense of humor.

“Nice to officially meet you, Kacchan,” Izuku told the blonde, winking at him. Ochako smiled his way before slipping her hand into green bean’s and walking with him out of the bar.

Katsuki’s friends gaped at the entire echange.

"Kacchan?" Todoroki repeated, voice dripping in confusion.

“Dude,” Kirishima said, “How much did he tip you?”

Katsuki glanced down at the hand not covered in blood, “Two-hundred bucks.”

Sero whistled low.

“What’s this?” Yaoyorozu asked, stealing the slip of paper off the bar before Katsuki could protest. She unfolded it, eyes widening, “He gave you his number, Bakugou! He even drew a winky face next to it!”

The boys of the group, sans Todoroki who’s facial features remained contorted in confusion, whooped and hollered.

“Get some, Bakugou!” Kaminari cheered.

"Are we all going to ignore the fact that Bakugou just let someone call him Kacchan?" Todoroki inquired again—and was ignored again.

Bakugou yanked the paper out of Momo’s hands.

“Shut the fuck up, all of you,” He said furiously. Although the threatening look he was trying to portray was diminished by the blush that was taking over his entire face.

As his friends settled down and began ordering their drinks, Katsuki ran his cut up hand underneath the tap—washing away the blood. He wished the memory of those damned big ass eyes of Izuku and Ochako’s would wash down the pipe as well, but no such luck.

He tucked the cash and the phone number into his back pocket and returned to the bar to cater to his obnoxious friends.

Chapter Text

P U T  T H E  M E A T  O N  M Y  B O N E S

C H A P T E R  T W O

-got up and kept on going-

When Katsuki had gotten home that night the first thing he did was look up ‘Midoriya Izuku’. There wasn’t any information regarding the man’s hero career—there wasn’t much of any information on him period. There was a news article written about his acceptance into U.A. like fifteen years ago that had been scanned in and put up online, but even the scan had big portions of it blotted out so that the story was nearly incomprehensible.

He decided to also search ‘Ochako’ but without the woman’s last name, that search was short lived as well.

He’d shoved his computer aside and had to call it a night.




The next day started out a lot better—his Battle Techniques class was one that he thrived in and his professor, Sato, wasn’t a complete jackass like Yamazaki. His fellow classmates still whispered and pointed at him, but he elected to ignore it. Who the fuck cared about those side characters anyway? He’d outshine every single one of the fuckers.

It felt good to demonstrate his quirk to the class, blasting a target to smithereens and also managing to get his mind off the big eyed asswipes that had propositioned him last night for one blissful moment. But when the adrenaline quit pumping through his veins and the dust settled around him, he blinked and saw visions of brown hair fluttering in the wind and freckles staining the back of his eyelids like the smattering of stars across the night sky.

Maybe his explosions were bigger and brighter than usual, and maybe it was because today he was a little more sweaty than usual—but it had nothing to do with those two dweebs and their blinding smiles. Nothing whatsoever.

The two hundred bucks felt like a ton of bricks in his backpack as he trudged his way across campus. Katsuki has wracked in the big bucks through tips in the past—people were fucking stupid when they were drunk, after all—but something about this gesture seemed different. Almost affectionate or some other sappy bullshit Bakugou didn’t want to think about. The phone number didn’t help matters. He figured, however, that as long as he had the money he might as well use it to pay Shinsou back for all the times he’s spotted him and put the rest to buying the textbooks he’d put off purchasing for lack of money.

He shook his head free of those thoughts as he walked into the school’s training grounds and headed straight for the locker rooms.

“Hey, Bakugou,” Shinsou greeted him from where he was tugging off his shirt and digging through his locker for his team uniform, “Did you work late last night? I gave up on waiting for you.”

Katsuki snorted, “My shitty friends didn’t leave until one in the morning.”

Shinsou smiled, “Yeah, I remember that their class was particularly rowdy. Not sure how Aizawa didn’t murder any of them.”

Katsuki shrugged. The truth was, his friends were endearing as shit—clever enough that they could get away with almost anything and stupid enough that it was hella funny. It was irritating last night that he kept getting comments about green bean and round cheek’s advancements, but when he insisted that they shut their traps they dropped the subject.

Katsuki yanked his shirt over his head.

“Hey,” He addressed Shinsou as he continued getting dressed, “Do you know anything about Midoriya Izuku?” Shinsou blinked at the blonde, “Was a teacher at U.A. apparently? Can crush fridges with nothing but his hands? Freckly bastard? Ringing any bells?”

Shinsou tilted his head to the side, trying to peek into Katsuki’s soul, “Why do you ask?”

Katsuki glared at his teammate, “No fucking reason, now answer the question.”

Shinsou shrugged, but the shrewd look in his eye remained, “Midoriya-sensei was my homeroom teacher our first year at U.A. Then he took All Might’s place shortly after the beginning of my second year, started teaching your class. He used to be this underground hero, you know? Took on the small jobs, helped in some bigger ones—although in those he mostly stayed back and used his brains to formulate plans for the tougher heroes to put in action. He rose to the top almost overnight—around the same time that All Might retired. And that was about the same time that we were instructed by the principle to keep his identity hush hush. From my understanding, he doesn’t even introduce himself as Midoriya anymore—his students only know him as Deku these days.”

“So that motherfucker is Deku?”

Shinsou nodded, “Yeah. He kicks ass.”

Katsuki’s mind was reeling. That short stack? The number one goddamned hero?

“What about that round faced chick he’s always with?”


Katsuki nodded, pulling his socks up his calves.

“I don’t know as much about her, other than that they graduated together and have been dating since high school. Oh, and that her hero name is Uravity.” Shinsou looked thoughtful as he shut his locker and closed the lock, “She kicks ass too. We also were asked not to disclose her identity because of her close ties with Midoriya-sensei.” He squinted at the blonde, “Why are you so interested in knowing about them, Katsuki?”

“You really think I’m gonna answer that?” Katsuki asked, slamming his own locker shut. He walked away towards the training grounds, Shinsou following him.

“Never hurts to try with you.”

“Unless it actually does,” Katsuki amended.

Hitoshi shook his head, “You haven’t lashed out violently in a long time, actually.”

“Congratu-fucking-lations to me, then.”

Shinsou ducked his head, smiling fondly, “You’re absolutely right. We ought to celebrate that, actually. I’ll make a cake.”

“You’ll burn down our apartment trying, sleepy.”

“I’ll buy a cake.”

“Tch. Whatever.”

Since Shinsou was there when Katsuki had gotten kicked out of U.A., he recognized a lot of change in the blonde when they’d ended up being roommates. It used to annoy Bakugou to no end how the brainwashing bastard would want to celebrate Katsuki’s small victories over his anger management issues, but he could now see that it was just Shinsou’s way of showing that he cared. Plus, he and the purple haired bastard could relate in a lot of ways—the nature of their quirks made people quick to assume that they were teetering close to the edge and one day they’d snap and nosedive into villainy. And the bastard was at this shitty university studying to become a hero too, never having managed to being promoted into the hero course at U.A. It was hard for Katsuki to stay mad at Shinsou for very long because they had too much in common.

“Bakugou. Shinsou,” Coach Ito greeted them when they made their way out onto the training grounds, “Stretch. We’re running laps today before the real fun starts.”

Shinsou looked a little put out by that, and Katsuki shrugged because he ran five miles every morning anyways.

Ito continued, “Your first two on two is this Saturday. I’ve got notes on the team you’ll be playing—I want you to study their quirks and come up with a strategy for every single one. Come see me after practice and I’ll give you all of that then. Hop to it!”

Katsuki saluted him, and Shinsou nodded rigidly.

He slapped Hitoshi on the back, “C’mon, sleepy. You’re tense as fuck.”

Shinsou shrugged sheepishly, following Katsuki to the mats, sitting down and stretching out his legs, “You’re going to find this pathetic, but lately I’ve been a little worried about my position on the team.”

Katsuki’s head snapped up from where it was bent in his stretch, “Hah?”

Shinsou sighed, “My quirk isn’t really flashy, not to mention that it’s my third year here and the other schools have all picked up on how it works. You’ve really helped me learn to fight, but it’s not enough. I don’t think coach will kick me off the team, but I doubt I’ll play past the preliminaries.”

Katsuki stiffened, “You’re spouting garbage, fucking stop that. You’re the only fuckwit on this team that I’ll team up with for the two on two’s and I only team up with the best. Are you shit at stamina? Hell yeah. But are you the most conniving motherfucker that can wheedle their way under anyone’s skin? You bet your ass. That’s all you need with a quirk like yours. And fuck it, I need you to reign me in so just shut up and train.” He focused back in on stretching, holding onto his toes with ease.

Shinsou regarded Katsuki with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. Then, after a moment of wondering what the hell just happened, Hitoshi’s lips pulled up into a smile.

“You’ve changed a lot, Katsuki. Thanks.”

Bakugou leapt to his feet, placing a large hand on his roommate’s back and forcing the purple haired man forward in his stretch all the while ignoring Shinsou’s pained protests, “Maybe if you focused less on saying sappy shit and more on your stretching, you wouldn’t complain about your sore muscles every motherfucking day.”




“Shinsou,” said Katsuki as they were walking home from practice, tired and sweaty as all hell, digging through his backpack and thrusting one of the hundred dollar bills Izuku had given to him into Hitoshi’s unsuspecting hands, “Here’s for all the times you’ve spotted me for groceries.”

Shinsou looked at the money with wide eyes, shoving it back into Katsuki’s chest, “I’ve already told you a thousand times—you don’t need to pay me back for that. I’m—”

“Here on scholarship and get paid fucking handsomely at your data entry job at Todoroki’s hero agency. I fucking know. But you still helped me the fuck out, and now I’m paying you back so fucking take it before I decide to incinerate it instead.”

Wisely Shinsou tucked the money into his pocket, and changed tactics with a smirk.

“Is this money from your tips?” He waggled his eyebrows at the blonde, “You work your Bakugou charm on someone?”

Katsuki snorted, “All the Bakugou charm stayed with my fucking old man. Me n’ the hag are something different altogether. Don’t know why the fucker tipped me like that—I’m volatile as hell.”

“Objectively, you’re not bad looking.”

“You hitting on me too, fuckface?”

Shinsou shook his head, adjusting his backpack so that he could carry it more comfortably, “You’re not really my type.”

“That’s cause your type meows and hacks up hairballs all day,” scoffed Katsuki.

“Cats are above us, Bakugou,” Shinsou warned, “Don’t disrespect them, or they’ll curse you for all eternity.”

“You’re a freak.”

Shinsou ignored that remark, “So who was it?”

They were coming up to their complex, and Katsuki started digging through his backpack for his keys.

“Hah?” The blonde inquired eloquently, sifting through the keys on his keychain until he found the one for the mailbox.

“The person who was hitting on you,” He waved the one-hundred dollar bill in front of his face as Katsuki grumpily stomped over to the mailbox and shoved the key into their slot, “The one that tipped you.”

“You're still on that?” Katsuki angrily opened the mailbox and peered inside, angrily yanking out all of its contents, "It's not any of your damned business!"

“I’ll find out eventually,” chimed Hitoshi, regarding him with the same calculating look he'd given the blonde earlier.

“No you fuckin’ won’t, because I’m never going to see them again,” proclaimed Katsuki as he slammed the mailbox shut. He filtered through the mail and shoved Shinsou’s into his stomach.

Shinsou, never effected by Katsuki’s abrasive attitude, shrugged and said, “Sure you won’t.”

They shuffled into their apartment. Katsuki threw his keys and his mail onto the counter and his backpack onto one of the kitchen’s chairs, and then pulled out his phone to see if he had any notifications. He rolled his eyes when he saw that he had a text from Eijirou. He vaguely registered Shinsou making himself at home on the couch in the background as he focused in on his messages.

Shitty Hair 3:47 pm: baku can we go 2 the gym 2mrrw?

Katsuki snorted and typed out an adequate response.

Bakugou 5:14 pm: Do you think I’ve got the time for your fuckery?

Kirishima responded in less than a minute.

Shitty Hair 5:15 pm: yes!!

Bakugou 5:15 pm: Well, you’re right. I’m free between 3 and 6.

Shitty Hair 5:16 pm: miss u!! :)

Bakugou 5:18 pm: I’m going to fuckin’ murder you.

Shitty Hair 5:19 pm: see u 2mrrw at 3!!!!

“I gotta get my ass to work, sleepy!” Katsuki yelled at his roommate who was cuddling with Voldemort and flicking through some homework as if deciding which of it was worth doing. He continued barking at Shinsou as he made his way down the hallway to his bedroom, “Don’t fucking forget that it’s your turn to do the dishes!”




It was a Tuesday night at The Bar, meaning that Katsuki could expect another slow night at work—at least for now. College kids would probably start trickling in closer to eleven. But it was a little bit past six o’clock and there had only been a handful of customers so far—a gaggle of office workers coming in after work, and a pair of construction workers after a long day. Katsuki, not having much to do, was leaning back in his stool and scrolling through his course’s syllabi on his phone while he distantly tuned into the news playing on the television.

He glanced up with a raised eyebrow when he heard a loud thump at the bar to see none other than the brown eyed angel dropping a large stack of textbooks onto the countertop with a triumphant smirk on her face. He glanced to her right, eyes following Izuku as he took his place next to Ochako.

Katsuki shoved his phone into his pocket, but made no move to service them.

“What the fuck is this?” He gestured to the textbooks.

“My textbooks from U.A.,” Ochako declared, “The hero universities use the same books, don’t they?” She didn’t give Bakugou an opportunity to respond, just kept talking with that wide smile, “I don’t use mine anymore and thought you could make better use of them.”

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed and he stood up to his full height so that he could tower over the pair of idiots.

“Tipping me is one thing,” He began heatedly, “But I don’t need your fucking pity. Take your shitty textbooks and your stupid smiles and find someone who actually needs help.”

Izuku cocked his head to the side, freckles coming to life when the right side of his face caught the low lights from the bar, “We know that you don’t need our help—but this is something that we want to do. Because we can and because we like you.”

Katsuki glared at him as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, “What? You want to be my fucking sugar daddies?”

Izuku and Ochako both turned an interesting shade of red, causing Bakugou’s frown to morph into a lazy smirk.

“You’re a blunt one, aren’t you?” Ochako observed, looking around to make sure no one had tuned into their conversation and rubbing the back of her head in embarrassment, “We already told you that all we want is a date.”

For now,” Katsuki added, reminding her of her own words the previous night. Her blush darkened and he glanced at green bean to see how he was faring—not much better. The blonde was still annoyed as fuck, but the smug success he felt at getting these kinds of reactions from the couple was beginning to weigh out his anger, “You guys don’t do this often, do you?”

Izuku chuckled awkwardly. “Never,” he agreed, slapping some money on the counter, “Two margaritas?”

“I can fucking tell.”

Katsuki grabbed a couple of glasses and the tequila, mixing up something different than yesterday but something he guessed they would like all the while wondering why the hell they decided to play this game with him if they’ve never done anything like this before. The couple had removed their jackets and placed them in their laps as they sat down at the bar. “So,” Bakugou started as he gracefully flipped one of the bottles with the flavoring and poured it into their drinks, “Deku and Uravity, huh?”

Izuku sighed, sharing a meaningful glance with Ochako before meeting Katsuki’s defiant gaze.

“Who told you?”

“I had my suspicions,” Bakugou informed them, dropping some garnish in their drinks, “But my roommate confirmed them. Hard to believe that a nerd like you is the number one fucking hero.” Katsuki’s eyes drifted down to Izuku’s shoulders. He was wearing a plaid shirt that was slightly too big, as if he was trying to hide from the world all the power he held behind those shoulders. Ochako dressed overly nice, looking like the kind of girl who’d never get her hands dirty. Individually they looked like any other Joe Shmoe, but as a couple they looked entirely out of place, like the facades they put out didn’t quite belong together. Just who were they trying to fool?

Ochako hummed, accepting her drink as Bakugou placed them in front of her and Izuku, “We’d really appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone our civilian identities.”

“I’m not gonna snitch on you,” Katsuki grumbled childishly, “I’m just wondering why the fuck you’re so secretive about it?”

“We’ve got some big enemies—” Ochako started, but Katsuki stopped her short.

“You’re both more than capable of protecting yourselves and your loved ones so don’t give me any of that shit, there’s definitely more to it.”

Izuku leaned back on his stool, regarding Bakugou with shrewd eyes. He looked…impressed. “You’re pretty smart, Kacchan,” Izuku commented in all seriousness, taking a sip from his drink. The sober undertone of his words was ruined by the wink he followed them up with.

Katsuki groaned, “Are you five? What’s with that dumbass name?”

“I think it’s cute,” Ochako interjected.

“It’s stupid is what it is.”

“I’ll call you whatever I want to, Kacchan,” Izuku teased.

Katsuki glanced down at the textbooks and than back up to the couple. “Whatever,” he said, realizing in that moment that he never took Midoriya’s money. He snatched it off the counter and punched in several different buttons on the cash register, sliding the money home and extracting his change. Something occurred to him, and a vicious leer crept across his face. “Deku,” He started, as he held out his hand with the change, “Useless.” He uttered the words like they were synonyms.

Izuku pouted, “Rude.” He accepted the money from Katsuki’s hand, fingers brushing against the blonde’s purposefully.

“I’ll call you whatever I want to, Deku,” Bakugou mimicked.

“Who’s five now?” grumbled Ochako, as she tapped on the edge of her half finished glass.

“So,” Deku began loudly, with the air of someone trying to change the subject, “Shouto tells me you’re on your school’s hero sports team? Would you be cool with me and Ochako coming to watch sometime?”

Fuck. Katsuki had forgotten that their agencies were right next to each other. Todoroki. What a bitch. Katsuki was going to have to kill him for that.

Bakugou growled.

“This isn’t high school. Do whatever the fuck you want.”

Izuku grinned and said cryptically, “If you say so.”

The green haired man tipped his head back as he downed the contents of his glass—Katsuki absolutely did not watch his throat work or notice the way Ochako’s gaze was also glued to the sight. When Izuku had gotten every last drop, he placed the cup back onto the bar and began putting his coat on. Ochako already had her arm through one of her sleeves.

Katsuki blinked, glancing at the clock. It was nearly seven. They’d been talking for almost an hour.

The blonde frowned, speculating idly on when time had started moving so fast.

“It was nice to see you tonight, Kacchan,” Ochako hummed, sliding their tip across the counter. She waved her long fingers his direction and pulled Izuku with her to the doors. Izuku blew him a kiss before leaving with his girlfriend. Katsuki rolled his eyes and allowed them to settle onto the pile of textbooks they’d left behind.

“Fuck,” he said to no one, glaring disdainfully at the offending objects and wondering when the hell he’d forgotten about his initial anger surrounding the piece of shit books. He glanced at the money they’d left. Another two-hundred dollars. “Fuck,” he repeated, as it dawned on him that Izuku and Ochako had successfully diverted the conversation away from Katsuki's questions without the blonde even noticing.




When Katsuki got home, he dumped the textbooks onto the floor of his bedroom without any care in the world of how much noise it made. He made a beeline to his desk and snatched the piece of paper that had Izuku’s phone number written across it. He jumped on his bed and turned on the lamp on his nightstand so that he could glare at the pile of books comfortably.

He glanced from the phone number to the textbooks and back again. Katsuki knew that he could have made a bigger fuss over their nice gesture—the couple probably wouldn’t have forced him to accept the books if he really insisted. He couldn’t really pinpoint what was making him accept their help so easily.


That’s not what this was.

This wasn't help. Because Katsuki doesn't need help.

This was...this was...

He pulled out his phone, typing in Deku’s number quickly.

Bakugou 12:46 am: When are you two shits going to take me on that fucking date?

He stared at his phone for a while, as if expecting the fucker to respond despite the late hour. After ten minutes, he plugged his charger into the phone aggressively, turned his lamp off, rolled over fully clothed and went to sleep.

Chapter Text

P U T  T H E  M E A T  O N  M Y  B O N E S

C H A P T E R  T H R E E

-don’t run from the coming storm-

By the time Katsuki had woken up the next day, the shitnerd had responded.

Green Bean 4:57 am: Kacchan?!

Green Bean 4:57 am: Are you free Friday evening??

Green Bean 4:58 am: Please tell me you are!!

Green Bean 4:58 am: Ochako is gonna flip her shit!!!

Katsuki snorted, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he sat up and typed out a message.

Bakugou 6:02 am: Friday is fine, nerd.

Bakugou threw his blankets off of his legs and immediately got to work making his bed—pristine and pretty just like everything else he does because he’s the fucking best. He dressed for his morning run and walked into the living room to start his stretches away from the cooler air outside. He plugged his headphones into his phone, started up Sabotage by the Beastie Boys, and flew out the door and into the morning air.

Running gave Katsuki a lot of time to think—which wasn’t really what he wanted this morning. Every time he blinked he saw big brown eyes and scarred hands etched across his eyelids—which was sappy as hell. The doe-eyed fuckers were hot, he told himself and that was all. And they were interested in him, so it was hard not to think about the little shits. Anyone would be in the same state as Katsuki if Ochako and Izuku smiled their way.

Katsuki growled, trying in vain to shake his head clean of those two.

He was closing in on the shit fucked beach, happy to see that it was, in fact, still shit fucked and that Izuku hadn’t cleared it out completely. That fucker was Deku after all, and probably could have cleaned it in a single day if he wanted to. But the green bean had left him with plenty of shit should he feel the need to unleash some pent up rage. He’d never admit it out loud, but he was thankful that the nerd was a thoughtful son of a bitch like that.

He frowned as something connected in his mind, slowing to a halt and wiping the sweat from his brow. He was breathing heavily, staring out at the water that was glistening like a bonfire from the reflection of the rising sun. He glared at the scene, annoyance trickling up his spine, up his throat and he wanted to gag with the epiphany lighting up his mind.

The number one fucking hero took the time to do something as mundane as clean a shitty beach.

He couldn’t really be that nice?

“Nerd,” He exhaled, turning around and ripping his eyes away from the beach. He took another moment to catch his breath, and then pushed his legs forward, harder and faster this time around. His mind drifted off, thinking of the kind gestures they directed at him. The gagging feeling intensified this time with a small pinch of anger, but Katsuki pushed forward nonetheless. The tips, the textbooks, the offer to watch his games. What assholes, forcing Katsuki into their debt like that.

What gorgeous innocent assholes.

He really did owe them.

And he really would pay them back.




Yamazaki was addressing him like he was talking to a child, would criticize every little thing he did, but didn’t make any other move to incite his anger…today. Bakugou was glad—he didn’t have the time today to go and blow shit up and he wasn’t about to take his anger out on shitty hair or Shinsou or any other undeserving bastard.

He bolted off the training grounds, getting to the locker room before any of his shitty classmates.

He checked his phone and saw a message from Kirishima. There was also a message from Izuku, but Katsuki decided he would check that when being distracted wouldn’t be as much of an issue.

Shitty Hair 2:35 pm: so excited 2 c u I got thr early!!!

Bakugou 2:43 pm: I really will kill you.

Shitty Hair 2:44 pm: <33

Bakugou 2:44 pm: I’m not joking.

He changed quickly, slamming his locker just because and scaring the shit out of a few of his classmates. He smirked, saluting them all and following it up by waving his middle finger at them. He left campus with his dignity intact and his anger under control, which is honestly more than he expected from today.

“Shitty hair,” He greeted Eijirou as he approached the gym. Kirishima was waiting for him outside, sitting down on a bench as he scrolled through his phone. His eyebrows were scrunched together as he read through whatever it was he was looking at, but when he heard Bakugou’s voice he tore his eyes away from his phone and beamed up at the blonde.

“Katsuki!” He yelled, throwing his arms around Bakugou.

Katsuki made no move to reciprocate and waited patiently for Kirishima to get his fill and back away.

“Your face looked pretty constipated a second ago,” Bakugou noted as Eijirou pulled away, “You thinking too hard?”

Kirishima hummed as he picked up his gym bag and started making his way inside, “You care, Bakugou!”

Bakugou followed him with a harrumph and an embarrassed flush, “Fuck you. No I don’t.”

Shitty hair laughed, throwing his head back, “Suuuure.”

“Are you going to answer my damn question or are you just going to be an annoying fuck all day?”

Kirishima rubbed the back of his shitty hair somewhat self-consciously, “There’s a situation downtown—I’m on call today and I was just checking to make sure they don’t need me.”

Katsuki frowned, unsure why Kirishima and the rest of his classmates seemed to tiptoe around the subject of their work around the blonde. Like they felt bad that they all had jobs as pro heroes and Bakugou didn’t because he fucking blew it. It pissed him off. He was a big boy who could handle his own fuck ups.

“Don’t be fucking shy about your work, shitface,” Katsuki growled at him, “You’re not gonna make me cry or anything. You gotta go?”

The redhead shook his head from side to side, smiling fondly and lifting his shoulders to answer more confidently, “No. But I’ll have to keep an eye on how things progress. I’d much rather spend time with you than fight gross villains, Katsuki!”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, flashing his gym membership to the chick at the front desk with Eijirou following suit.

“You’d rather spend time with me than do anything else,” Katsuki corrected, “You’d be lost without me, shitty hair. Go ahead. Admit it. No judgment here.”

This time it was Kirishima rolling his eyes. “I’d be lost without you, Bakugou,” He recited like it was a usual occurrence, completely deadpan, “Your involvement in my life is both a blessing and a curse, because I know I’ll never be as badass as you. Your existence alone inspires my every move—everyday I ask myself: what would Bakugou do? Your saintly voice answers in my mind: fucking slay.”

“Laying it on a little thick today,” The lady at the front desk observed, lips quirked into an amused smile like she too had seen this interaction many times. Katsuki was preening, so lost in Eijirou’s ego-inflating words that he hadn’t paid attention to the sarcastic tone used to communicate them or the lady’s involvement.

Kirishima laughed, waving at her as they made their way over to the weights.

They started in on their workout—Katsuki focused on his arms like usual, and Kirishima focused on his legs today.

Katsuki kept seeing shitty hair open his mouth like he wanted to say something, but kept stopping himself short. The fourth time this happened, Katsuki rolled his eyes and demanded that Kirishima just spit out whatever the fuck it was.

Eijirou chuckled nervously, “I was just wondering about Midoriya-sensei and Ochako-sensei.” Katsuki looked about ready to chuck his weights at the readhead’s face, and so Kirishima quickly explained himself, “I know you told us to stop asking! It’s just that they don’t really seem like the type to…er…well, see I guess that’s what I’m asking. What the hell is going on, man?”

Katsuki smirked, “Is it world crushing to know that everybody’s favorite bright eyed heroes, the symbol of peace and his beloved girlfriend, propositioned an explosive asshole like me—an explosive asshole that’s gotta be like ten years younger than them—for a threesome?”

Shitty hair quirked an eyebrow. “You see, that’s the part that’s got me so confused!” He exclaimed, “I can’t see them just wanting one night. They’re committed people—to each other, to their jobs, to the people they save, to everything they do. And if they happen to do you, I just can’t imagine them kicking you to the curb afterwards.” He frowned, kicking his legs up and pushing the weights on the equipment behind him up into the air, and squinted up at Katsuki, “What do you want from them?”

Katsuki breathed out through his nose, long and controlled, as he lifted the weights from the square up to his shoulders almost effortlessly.

He didn’t want to tell Kirishima jack shit. He didn’t want to be having this conversation, didn’t want to show any sign of vulnerability, and most certainly didn’t want to talk about any supposed feelings. Especially with a guy like Eijirou who seemed to be about ninety-five percent feelings.

But he knew that part of overcoming his issues was opening up to the people he trusted.

He sighed, dropping the weights onto the mat. He tipped his weight forward until he was falling, face first, and caught himself with his arms and promptly began his routine of push-ups. When he got through his first rep, he dropped to his hands and knees and then sat down, glaring up at his friend with his wrist draped over his knee.

“Look,” He sneered, “They’re hot. Like the kind of hot that haunts you at night. But they’re too nice. It kind of pisses me off—but also is part of what makes them hot? I don’t even fuckin’ know.” He grit his teeth as he continued, “They came into my work again yesterday. Gave me a shit ton of textbooks that I needed but was too poor to buy myself. Tipped me again. Pretty sure they want to be my sugar daddies. And that’s fine by me. Means what they’re doing isn’t pity, means I can repay them.”

Kirishima had abandoned his workout and looked like he was gonna shit himself, all wide-eyed and mouth agape as he read in between the lines, “Dude.”

Katsuki, face red, snarled, “What.”

“I’m positive that they’re not trying to buy any sexual favors from you,” Eijirou explained, eyeing Bakugou with concern—Katsuki wondered how Kirishima was always able to read him so easily, because it was annoying as hell, “They both probably have more money than they know what to do with and do nice things because they’re…nice. Have you even considered that as a possibility?”

Katsuki thought back to the beach.

He had thought of that.

It seemed too much like pity to Bakugou.

He shrugged, “Maybe it’s not what they’re trying to do, but maybe that’s the only way I can pay them back. And I have to fucking pay them back, shithead.”

Kirishima sighed, “Of course you do.”


“Just be careful,” The redhead cautioned, “Please.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time that day, “Always.”

They continued their workouts in silence, aside from Kirishima’s occasional bright and witty remarks and Katsuki’s belligerent sass. When they had finished and showered and changed and were exhausted, Eijirou whined and griped for food.

“Katsuuuki,” He nagged, “Will you make me food?”

Katsuki scowled at him, “Why aren’t you ever making me food, shitty hair?”

“Because you’re the better cook?”

“You’re damn right about that,” the blonde agreed, not even caring that he’d just been tricked.

Kirishima got a call at that moment that he had to take. Katsuki watched him closely, noticing that the constipated look was making its return on the redhead’s face. Eijirou listened intently to whoever was talking to him over the phone, his usual teasing smile pulled down into a serious look of concentration. He ended the call with a curt goodbye and turned to his friend with a sigh.

“Rain check, man,” the redhead said, looking dejected, “I just got called in.”

Katsuki absolutely did not sulk.

Kirishima smiled, placing a hand on Bakugou’s shoulder and squeezing like the sap he was, “Let’s do something next week, yeah?”


They walked out of the gym together.

“See ya, man!”

Bakugou affectionately flipped him off.




When Bakugou got home, Shinsou was gone—probably at the library studying. As he usually does, Katsuki got the mail and put it on their kitchen counter. He strode over to the couch and let his entire body fall onto it; Voldemort pounced onto his chest and promptly curled up and began purring. Katsuki pulled out his phone and scanned through his notifications as he pet Voldy absentmindedly.

He still had that message from Deku, and another message from an unknown number. He opened up Izuku’s first.

Green Bean 2:23 pm: Yay!!

Green Bean 2:23 pm: Can we pick you up at 7?

Bakugou 5:36 pm: Sure thing, green bean.

He quickly typed out his address and sent it to Izuku and then opened up the message from the unknown number.

Unknown 3:45 pm: kacchan!! It’s ochako <3

Round Cheeks 3:46 pm: we’re soo excited 4 our date!!

Round Cheeks 3:46 pm: izuku thinks ur eyes r pretty btw

Round Cheeks 3:46 pm: so do i <3

Katsuki let out a breath that was half laugh half scoff.

Bakugou 5:38 pm: Yeah, yeah.

Bakugou 5:38 pm: You’re both fuckin’ nerds.

Bakugou 5:39 pm: See you Friday.

And, just to be a little shit:

Bakugou 5:39 pm: </3

He picked up Voldemort and placed him on his shoulders, then walked back into his bedroom to get a little bit of studying done before he had to leave for his shift at The Bar. He cracked open one of the textbooks Ochako had given him, the one for his shitty rescue class, while Voldy settled in at his side. It looked like it had gone to good use, her slanted handwriting that reminded Katsuki so much of soft ripples on the surface of a warm, inviting lake covering the margins. After a while of reading, he focused in more on her notes than the actual text because they were a lot more helpful than the original content.

Rescue is as much about being strong as it is about thinking smart

There really isn’t any one focus when it comes to rescue work—it’s not completely defensive and avoiding collateral damage is important but not as important as saving lives

Do what you need to protect

Structural damage = a huge pain in the ass

Saving cats from trees is below NO hero

Katsuki chortled at that one.

One of the pages was completely crossed out—a page advising the rescue hero not to engage the enemy, to allow those with more offensive quirks to handle the fighting. She’d drawn a picture of a hand with its middle finger up on the page as if to say fuck you to whoever wrote this garbage.

THIS IS STUPID—do they want us to DIE? Don’t be fucking reckless, but engage if you have to!!!!!

Katsuki tried imagining Ochako using that kind of language in real life, and was annoyed to find that the thought kind of turned him on. Such an angelic face swearing up a storm? Apparently that did things to Bakugou. As far as Katsuki could tell, that was the only page where she’d crossed things out like that. He flipped the page and continued reading her notes.

Be aware of your surroundings, often the environment can do a lot more of the rescue work than you ever could but it can also make things a thousand times more dangerous

Katsuki hummed, having never thought about it like that before. He turned the page and snorted when he saw that Ochako had written Midoriya’s name inside of a girly heart on one of the pages.

He glanced at his phone again when it was about time for him to start getting ready.

Round Cheeks 6:17 pm: ur cute <3 <3 < 3

Round Cheeks 6:18 pm: if ur working tonight, have fun!!!




Thursday passed relatively uneventfully, except that Katsuki had stopped by his parents’ place after class.

“Oi,” He said to his old man. His mom had left briefly to pick something up from the store, and Katsuki was left hanging out with his dad. And as entertaining as it was watching the fucker read through the paper, Katsuki had honest to god more important things to accomplish, “You’re a sappy old fuck.”

Masaru raised an eyebrow from behind the newspaper his nose was buried into, “Your point?”

“Are you the type of old fuck that keeps ancient newspaper stories?”

Masaru chuckled, flicking his newspaper and digging deeper into the headlines—something about Deku and his tag team with Eraserhead yesterday. “I only keep a few—you can check my filing box, it’s in the closet of your old bedroom.”

Bakugou nodded, making his way out of the kitchen.

“Katsuki!” His dad called before he could escape. Katsuki stopped short, hand gripping the doorframe and honestly annoyed that he couldn’t slip out of the room without avoiding any bothersome questions being thrown his way, “Why do you have a sudden interest in old newspapers?”

“School project,” Katsuki lied, gritting his teeth and leaving before he could be questioned any further.

In reality, he was hoping that by some tender mercy from heaven his old man would have saved that dumbass article about Izuku’s acceptance into U.A. Something about the bastard’s backstory provided to him by Shinsou didn’t sit right with Katsuki. And why was the article online missing most of the information? What was the green bean hiding? And who knew? Maybe it was the right kind of inspiring shit that’d make his dad shed a pussy tear and tuck away the article for rainy days. Who fucking knew?

He flicked on the light when he entered his old room and shut the door. The filing box was easy enough to find and also happened to be caked in a hearty layer of dust. When he began sifting through it, he found a lot of pictures from his childhood. Katsuki’s fingers twitched, and he felt the itch to reach out to his quirk and set the shitty memories aflame. He contained himself, but wondered why the hell his parents would be proud enough of the piece of shit asshole he grew up to be to keep such nostalgic crap.

There weren’t many newspaper articles, and most of the ones saved were stories about some inspiring pro hero or some tragedy that shook the world. Katsuki sighed when he got to the end of the box empty handed.

“Katsuki?” His dad’s voice broke through the silence, causing Bakugou to jump.

“Fuck!” He screamed, “You scared me!”

The old fuck just chuckled, crouching down next to Katsuki and peering into the box with the blonde, “Sorry! I was just wondering if you found what you were looking for.” He reached over and pulled on one of the pictures in Katsuki’s hands, “Oh, look! This was the day you left to take the entrance exam for U.A.” He smiled fondly at his son’s smirking face gazing up at him from the photo, “Ever so proud, weren’t you?”

Katsuki could feel something unpleasant crawling up his spine, and he yanked the picture out of Masaru’s clutches, “Yeah, and look where that got me. I had nothing to be proud of back then, and I have nothing to be proud of now—I’m a fucking piece of shit, is what I am.”

Masaru smiled, shaking his head, “I’m positive that your resilience to better yourself and control your pride will make you the strongest you could ever be. I’m proud of who you are. Just saying.”

Katsuki snorted, “How am I even related to a sentimental fucker like you?”

“Yes, well,” Masaru started dryly, and looking a lot like he’d had this conversation too many times to count, “You certainly are your mother’s son.”

As if on queue, the front door burst open with a loud bang, and Mitsuki’s voice cut through the house like a chainsaw. “I’m home!” She yelled down the hallway, “And I’m not cooking dinner by myself! You want food? You fucking help!”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, stuffing the picture into his pockets and getting off his ass to help with dinner.




Friday started out shittier than most days and it had everything to do with his shithead professor. Today’s exercise was a timed obstacle course—the goal, like the previous two class periods, was to avoid any collateral damage only this time if you or the ‘civilian’ were hit by any of the obstacles you failed. If you didn’t make it past the goal before time ran out, the ‘bomb’ went off and you failed. If too much of the staged building was destroyed, by your hand or by the hand of the ‘villian’, you failed. If you breathed in a way that Yamazaki didn’t like, you failed.

To say the least, Bakugou was struggling.

“Will you fucking work with me, Batman?” Katsuki inquired of his classmate, the chick with the freaky bat wings who was currently acting as his civilian, “Or do you want me to drag your limp ass the entire way?”

“Ah,” She said, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly, “Sorry, Bakugou. Yamazaki-sensei gave me strict orders to act like I’m unconscious or immobile.”

Katsuki glared up at the ceiling, gritting his teeth and letting small explosions pulsate out of his palms. “Of course he did,” He bit out, teeth clenched and ready to snap should anyone else get on his fucking nerves. He stooped down, pulling the girl into his arms bridal style—her wings didn’t make things easier, of fucking course—and began making his way through the building. He’d managed to trace her on the top floor of the building without running into the fuckwit playing as the villain—other students were assigned to fight as the offensive heroes, so that the rescue hero wouldn’t have to focus on that. That was fine by Katsuki as long as his shitty classmates did their job.

And by the loud rumbling that started shaking the very foundation of the building, Katsuki was guessing that they were doing a shit job.

“Shit,” He said, pushing his legs faster and avoiding a booby trap. His anger was forgotten, overtaken by the real possibility that he and this shitty girl were in danger. He ran to a window, briefly considering just jumping out—but with wing girl in his arms there would be no way for him to cushion the landing. He growled, running towards the staircase instead. He managed to make down three flights unscathed when another shock rattled the building.

“This shitty building is going to crumble on top of us isn’t it?” He asked rhetorically.

“Looks that way,” Batman agreed, eyeing the ceiling nervously.

Bakugou narrowed his eyes, thinking back to Ochako’s notes.

“Let’s make it as far down as we can,” He told her, “I’ve got a plan.”

She hummed dryly, flicking her black hair out of her face, “You’re not as impulsive and reckless as I expected, Bakugou. If this were real, I might even feel comforted.”

Bakugou ignored that comment, and pushed his way down the stairs—arms screaming with the weight of his classmate. They made it as far down as the third floor, or at least Bakugou hoped it was the third floor, when they came across one of their other classmates acting as an offensive hero. He glanced behind him at the sound of their arrival and threw out one of his enlarged fists.

“Stay back!” He ordered.

Katsuki rolled his eyes, “That’s all fine and dandy, but which one of you shits is responsible for stopping the villain from tearing this building to the ground?”

The master hand shit couldn’t respond, seeing as another rumble threatened the integrity of the building.

Katsuki tapped his earpiece, “This place is gonna collapse any second now. Get the fuck out, all of you!”

“What about you?” A shrill voice inquired over the connection.

“Why is sensei letting this go so far?” Another student wailed between deep ragged breaths.

“What’s wrong with Himura, why is he bringing the building down?” The shrill voice questioned, “In real life the bomb would do all the work anyways, he doesn’t need to bring everything down on top of us!"

Katsuki growled into the communication device, “Just get out of here already! I’ll deal with it!”

Katsuki peered through the window, watching as his teammates ran outside where it was safe. Katsuki wasn’t completely sure of the mechanics behind Himura’s quirk, but what he’d gathered was that the asswipe could mimic certain attributes of whatever animal he could think of. Thinking back to their quirk demonstrations and what he saw from the fucker on Wednesday, his favorite thing to do was turn his hands into lethal bear claws. If he was using that to destroy the support of the building, all Bakugou had to do was wait.

There was another nasty shake, and wing girl looked ready to just up and run—Katsuki didn’t blame her and would have certainly let her if she tried. Katsuki curled around her, so as to shield her if things went south, raising his left arm to the ceiling in preparation. His instincts were screaming at him to get out, but his mind understood that a hero should do whatever it takes to protect.

“Hey,” He told wing chick, “I’m going to blow this place to hell, and when I do we’re going to make a run for it.”

“Why don’t we just make a run for it now?” She asked angrily.

“Because,” He grit out, “Winnie the Fucker is still below us. Five minutes ago we could have made a run for it, but this building is going down no matter what and I have a feeling that shitty excuse for a villain won’t make it out in time.” With that said and while ignoring her wide eyes and gaping mouth, he unleashed an explosion that he could feel in his soul. The blast radius was big, bigger than Katsuki had ever managed without his gauntlets, and the heat from it was scorching. It tore through the building and incinerated everything above them until there was nothing. Katsuki held back a cry; he felt like the muscles in his arm were being torn to shreds and wondered how long it was going to take to recover from this.

He clutched his arm to his chest, ears ringing when he registered a petite hand tugging on his good arm. It was Batman—they still had to make it out of this hellhole before the timer ran out. Numbly he ran with her, using his good hand to send an explosion at some of the falling debris threatening to hit her. She grabbed Katsuki by the waist and flew them safely to the ground outside of the shit fucked building where their fellow students were gaping at the carnage. Some ran inside to see if Himura was okay.

Katsuki immediately rounded on his professor.

“What the hell was that?” He screamed, his good fist sending off controlled rounds of explosions, “Why didn’t you call off this shitty exercise? We were in some real fucking danger there!”

Yamazaki’s stare was unimpressed, “I assure you, I could have used my quirk if you were in any real danger.” His amber eyes took in the wreckage that Katsuki had made, “Is your solution to everything just to blow it up? In real life there could have been any number of civilians in that building.”

“Sensei,” Batman opposed quietly, her wings tucked behind her in a way that reminded Katsuki of a dog sticking its tail between its legs, “Bakugou did what he had to—Himura was going to bring the building down on us all. Not only did he save all of us but he knew that the building was going to fall down on Himura as well. I would argue that this was no longer a training exercise but a real situation where Bakugou made the right decision because you let things go too far!"

She stared into Yamazaki’s eyes defiantly, arms crossed and glare in force. He stared back, trying with everything he had to refute her words but ultimately coming up short.

“Bakugou,” He finally said, “You pass on the premise that you managed to save everyone—but your disregard for public and private property is not going to get you anywhere as a hero. If you can’t learn to control your quirk, then you shouldn’t become a hero.” Those words made Bakugou want to pummel the fucker in the face, and he couldn’t stop his hands from smoking in anger. “We’re moving on to the other students’ exercise. You’re free to go. I’ll see you Monday.”

Bakugou turned on his heel and stormed to the locker room, ignoring the pain shooting down his left arm in constant waves.




He went to that dumbass beach first thing, yanking out his phone on the way.

Bakugou 2:35 pm: We’re going to need a fucking rain check, Deku.

He wasn’t expecting Izuku to call him within minutes of sending that message to the bastard and he wasn’t really sure why he answered, but Izuku’s smooth voice was filling his mind before he could really register what was happening.

Kacchan?” Midoriya asked frantically, “What’s wrong? What happened? Why doesn’t tonight work?”

Katsuki sighed—normally his meddling questions would only further piss the blonde off, but there was something about his voice that had a calming effect on Bakugou. “I’m fucking pissed off, that’s why.” He attempted flexing his left hand and winced, “And I’m pretty sure I need to go to the hospital.”

The hospital? Are you okay?”

“Fucking peachy,” He bit out, “Everything just blows up in my fucking face, and I don’t have the fucking money to go to the fucking hospital. I have a shitty game tomorrow, and I’m going to let down my fucking teammate again because I can’t fight like this and I’m just an all around piece of shit.” He wasn’t really sure why he was sharing all of this with Izuku, but he found that once he opened his mouth he couldn’t really stop. He clenched his good hand, sending off an explosion at a heap of trash with a wild roar, “Why am I fucking like this?!”

His breaths were ragged and strained, the ash and smoke filling his lungs and it felt like he was going to suffocate.

Kacchan,” Ochako’s voice pierced through the chaos—she must have been with green bean, “Stay calm. Breathe.

Something insolent and childish inside of him wanted to flip her off even though she couldn’t see him, but Katsuki forced himself to take in a deep breath and then let it out slowly.

Good,” She said, “Keep breathing, you’re doing good.”

Something warm bubbled inside of his ribcage at the soft praise and it wasn’t anger. It was something completely foreign to Katsuki, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he liked it or not. He felt…vulnerable. Nonetheless, he continued to let his rage seep out of his system with every long breath he let out through his mouth, consoled by her warm voice.

You still with us, Kacchan?”

He hummed, “Fuck.”

She chuckled, the sound warming him from his toes to his ears, “Will you tell us where you are? We can help you.”

“Beach,” He mumbled drowsy and numb, falling to his knees on the sand.

Bakugou heard the muffled noise of her talking to Deku, and then her voice was back, “Okay. We’re coming to get you. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

“Yeah,” He admitted and honest to god hated himself for the weakness he was exhibiting.

He could hear the smile in her voice as she said, “Okay. I can do that. Is it too much to ask what happened?

Katsuki sucked in a huge breath too quickly, choking on it.

“Okay, okay. Hmm. Can you tell me about your surroundings right now?

The blonde snorted, “Literal shit. I come here to blow garbage up.”

Because you know it’s a healthy way to let out your anger,” Ochako deducted, “That’s really admirable, Katsuki.

The warm feeling was back, getting more intense with every quiet word of praise she offered.

That’s what made Izuku so interested in you, you know,” She told him, voice like chimes—a soothing balm to his fucked up mind, “It’s one of the reasons that made me interested too. Behind that rough exterior is a broken man, trying to overcome his demons and do the right thing. Right?”

Katsuki let in another long breath, then let it out with a chuckle, “That’s the sappy way to put it, but sure.”

She laughed, “You sound like you’re coming back to yourself. That’s good.”

Katsuki didn’t have any response to that. He sometimes fucking hated himself, after all.

Do you still want me to stay on the phone with you? We’re almost there.”

“Nah,” He said, trying to gain some semblance of control, “I’ll see you soon.”

He hung up, falling back onto his back and draping his good arm over his eyes. He felt exhausted and relaxed—boneless and confused as to how that even happened.

“Kacchan?” He heard green bean call after a little while.

All he could do was raise his hand in the air and say, “Over here.”

Then two pairs of hands were pushing his body up into a sitting position and he was leaning back against a solid chest as soft hands gently inspected his left arm. Fatigue was stretching across his entire body, part of it from overexerting his quirk, part of it from the panic attack he’d just gotten through. The last thing he registered before slipping away into darkness was a calloused hand pushing back the hair on his forehead before being lifted into a strong set of arms.

Chapter Text

P U T  T H E  M E A T  O N  M Y  B O N E S

C H A P T E R  F O U R

-burnt out on sympathy-

Katsuki didn’t have the luxury to wake up slow all that often—his schedule forced him to work late and wake up early. It fucking sucked sometimes, and it couldn’t possibly be good for his health but it was what he had to do to get by.

So he didn’t question waking up, groggy and warm, by the light hitting his eyelids instead of the obnoxious ringing of his alarm clock. Well, he did question it because what the fuck but he mostly didn’t care. He was in a bed—a huge bed judging by his spread eagle sleeping position—and the sheets were warm and didn’t smell like any off-brand shitty detergent he or Shinsou bought. It was honest to god the most comfortable he’s been in a while, and to hell with rationality. He was going to wake up slow for once in his fucking life, goddammit.

He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as they fought to adjust to the light streaming in through the window. Not his window, and that only added to his disorientation. It took a moment, but he guessed that it wasn’t morning like he initially thought but sundown.

The sheets really smelt good, but he was also catching the scent of smoke that was clinging to his hair and clothes. He groaned, stuffing his face into one of the many pillows on the bed as his brain caught up to the situation. He’d made it to the beach, only for Izuku and Ochako to talk him out of his frantic haze of rage. He had been so tired from all the shit that had been happening around him—the funny thing was that he hardly felt like his body had recovered, although his arm wasn’t throbbing in pain anymore.

He glanced down at his hand, gaping at it upon discovering that it felt fine. More than fine. And the ugly disfigurement that festered his arm whenever he overused his quirk was also gone. He clenched and unclenched his hand, testing out his strength and dexterity until his ears picked up on muffled noises coming from the other room. Not just noises. Voices.

He sat up abruptly and whipped his head around, seeking out clues as to where he could possibly be. But something inside of him already knew. The picture frames on the dresser only confirmed his suspicions, and he didn’t know if he wanted to blow something up or just accept defeat.

Those two nerds…had taken care of him. Had brought him to their home. Like somehow he belonged there.

“Fuck,” He whispered, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and running his hands through his hair in distress. There were too many emotions bubbling up his spine to keep track of them properly or identify which one was the most dominate. Anger was there, familiar as his own limbs, but was surprisingly dulled by gratitude and laziness. As problematic as his anger usually is, anxiety was also assuredly present tearing his brain to shreds—he’d hardly known the two fuckers that saved him for three days, but they’d already seen too much. If they hadn’t been acting out of pity before then they surely would now.

He jumped when there was a knock on the door, and it creaked open a hair.

Deku’s green eyes peeked inside.

“Kacchan!” He said, obviously not expecting Katsuki to be awake and coherent, “You’re awake.”

“No shit,” snorted Katsuki cooly, trying to reign in his feelings and control his ragged breathing.

There were loud footsteps—god for someone with an anti-gravity quirk, round cheeks really had a loud cadence when she walked—and then Ochako’s head was peeking out from behind Izuku’s shoulder. She pushed the door open the rest of the way, rushing in. Katsuki flinched, not ready for any sort of intimate touch or comfort but Ochako stopped a foot away from him—arms crossed and eyes blazing—and he could do nothing but glare up at her.

“Stop staring at me like that,” He demanded.

Ochako’s bottom lip jutted out in aggravation and she shook her head, “We’re not going to demand you tell us what happened, or even why you seem to hate yourself so much—but I can see the frustration bubbling up inside of you right now. You think you’re weak because we helped you, and that’s seriously unhealthy.”

“What the fuck makes you think you know me?” Katsuki inquired angrily, getting to his feet with both fists clenched at his side. Her words cut deep; she was bringing year’s worth of feelings of inferiority and pride to the surface and he wasn’t exactly prepared to deal with that bullshit.

Izuku calmly approached them both, placing a large hand on each of their shoulders that Katsuki promptly shrugged off. Green bean seemed undeterred by Bakugou’s attitude, even took a step closer as he addressed the blonde, “Katsuki. From the moment I met you, you had problems with me helping you. Ochako’s just worried that you’re beating yourself up over something you shouldn’t. I mean, we save people every day. Are they weak? Do we think they’re weak because we save them? Of course not. There’s more to being strong than kicking ass, you know.” He looked Bakugou up and down with shrewd eyes, searching for something, “Do you think they’re weak because we save them?”

“No,” He growled childishly, taking in deep breaths and relaxing his muscles slowly, “And I’m not weak either.”

Izuku smiled, and the fire burning in Ochako’s eyes settled into the soft glow Katsuki was used to. Round cheeks straightened up, eyes twinkling, and she said, “No. You’re certainly not. You’re stronger than even you know.”

The warm fuzzy feeling he vaguely remembered from the beach erupted from his chest and spread like a hot mist to his fingertips and toes. He could feel his face growing warm at the praise, and he suddenly became extremely interested in their sock-clad feet.

Izuku quirked an eyebrow at Katsuki’s blush, chuckling, “Are you not used to any praise that isn’t related to your quirk?”

Katsuki shouldered his way through both of them so they wouldn’t see his face reddening any further, leaving them in the bedroom, “God, why do you both think you know every fucking thing about me?” But he wasn’t actually angry—or, at least, he was feeling too docile and tired to act on the dull anger buzzing in his veins. And at this particular moment, the curiosity of seeing what kind of world they lived in outweighed everything.

He heard their footsteps behind him, and Izuku cheerfully prattled on about how they were sorry they took him to their apartment and how they didn’t know where he lived or any of that shit. “But are you feeling okay?” He inquired, padding over to the kitchen and pulling out hot chocolate mix from one of the cupboards.

Katsuki was a little surprised by their small apartment that looked like it was only a step above the quality of his and Shinsou’s. There weren’t any ornate paintings or fancy vases being displayed like he expected of the couple. The nicest things they owned were probably their television and gaming systems—they really were nerds—and it was kind of throwing the blonde for a loop.

“Fucking tired,” He said in answer to Izuku’s question, making his way over to the kitchen with Ochako and sitting at the bar across from them, “But my hand’s fine. What pro hero mojo did you pull to fix it so fast?”

Ochako laughed at his remark, “We took you to Recovery Girl! Which is why you’re so tired, since her quirk only activates your own body’s healing system and makes it work faster. Her speculation was that you overused your quirk,” She smacked Izuku’s chest, “Luckily for you she has a lot of practice healing injuries like that because of this one.”

Katsuki’s eyebrows scrunched together as he glared at green bean, “You overuse your quirk a lot?”

Izuku rubbed the back of his head sheepishly as he placed three mugs of water into the microwave and then typed in the time and pressed start, “My quirk can be risky and it requires my body to be at it’s peak to work right—I don’t have the biggest stature, you know. Took a while to build the right amount of muscle to get it under control.”

The answer seemed too practiced for Katsuki to buy it, but he decided not to press the issue until later when he had more information. So instead he grunted his acceptance of the half-assed explanation and nodded at their living room, “What the fuck is all this?”

They looked confused.

“Er,” Deku said, carefully manhandling the mugs out of the microwave once the timer had gone off, “Our apartment?”

“Is there something wrong with it?” Ochako asked, scooping some of the hot chocolate up into a spoon and pouring it into the mugs as Izuku handed them to her.

Bakugou smirked, “Matter of fact, there is. S’not flashy enough to belong to my sugar daddies.”

Ochako fumbled with the spoon and some of the hot chocolate mix flew into Izuku’s face. The bastard sputtered, waving the cloud of chocolate out of his face while she scrambled to clean up her mess. Katsuki leaned back, arms crossed and satisfaction rolling off of him in waves strong enough to knock a grown man on his ass. He really had way too much fun getting the pair flustered. But in his defense they made it way too easy.

Ochako glared at him with a red face, “You just love making us fall all over ourselves, don’t you?”

Katsuki batted his eyelashes up at her mockingly, “Only because awkward looks so pretty on both of you.”

“Why does smug have to look so pretty on you?” Izuku grumbled, sliding one of the mugs over to Katsuki who immediately started gulping it despite it burning all the way down, “You’ll become a spoiled brat if we’re not careful.”

It took all of Bakugou’s self control not to spit out his hot chocolate.

Ochako gaped at her boyfriend, “You too, Izuku!?”

“What?” Izuku queried innocently, “He keeps joking about it so much that I’m actually starting to like the sound of it. You and me and our pretty boy.” He winked at Katsuki who looked like his brain had malfunctioned and was in the process of rebooting, “Doesn’t that sound nice, Ochako?”

“Oh my god,” Bakugou managed.

“Oh my god,” Ochako mimicked, eyes shifting back and forth between Izuku and Katsuki like she was deciding which one she should murder first. Or devour. One of the two.

“But first things first, Kacchan,” Izuku continued while ignoring their flushed faces and bringing his mug to his lips, voice husky and excited, “You owe us a date. Now, I’m not opposed to calling this one if you let us make you dinner and maybe cuddle with us while we pull something trashy up on Netflix after. You game?” He tipped his mug back, sipping from it languidly.

“Please be game,” Ochako added, big brown eyes begging so nicely.

“I’m game,” He answered, surprising himself with how much he actually wanted to do those mundane things with them and with how not annoying he found Ochako’s girly squeal, “On one condition.”

“What’s that?” asked Ochako, bouncing up and down excitedly.

“I make dinner.”

Izuku pouted, “But we wouldn’t be very good hosts if we let you make dinner.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, “I don’t give a fuck. I like to fucking cook. And I’ll make you something so good that you’ll never want anyone else to cook for you ever again. You’ll be begging me to cook for you every night for the rest of your pathetic lives.”

“That seems a little dramatic,” Ochako let out through the side of her mouth to Izuku, who was trying to hold back laughter because of their antics.

Katsuki glared at her, standing up and walking around the bar so that he could peek into their fridge, “Save room for the main course, ‘cause you’ll be eating those words.” He started taking things out and placing them on the counter, happy to see that they were fully stocked with food. He was so focused on what he was doing that he didn’t notice the couple rolling their eyes. He swatted at Izuku’s hands when they started reaching for the food on the counter.

“Aw,” Green bean whined—every time they did something like that caused Katsuki to question if they really were grown ass adults with stable jobs and life experience, “Can we at least help with the small stuff? Like chopping shit up?”

Katsuki relented, getting Izuku to cut the pork while Ochako started on the rice. They’d heckled Bakugou until he handed over his phone so that they could play his music as they prepared dinner.

It was weird. One of the first things that Katsuki noticed about the pair when he’d seen them today was that they were actually wearing clothing that seemed to fit their personalities and, in Deku’s case, their bodies.

Izuku had a blue sweater on that hugged his shoulders nicely and was wearing brown slacks paired with a ridiculous pair of All Might socks. Ochako had on a black and white striped tee with a yellow hoodie over it—she wore the hood up indoors like the nerd she is—and sweatpants that were rolled up just below her knees. She had bright pink ankle socks on that had little banana peels on them.

They moved about the kitchen and around each other with practiced ease, bumping hips whenever they passed each other, stealing kisses when they thought Katsuki wasn’t looking (but Katsuki was always looking)—they were evening daring enough to pinch Bakugou’s sides every so often, making the blonde wonder if they had some freaky mind meld with how they always seemed to do it at the same time without any verbal communication.

“Knock that off!” He grumped after the third time of the nerds poking his sides, and, like every other time, running away giggling before Katsuki could let off an explosion in their stupid smiling faces, “You’re fucking children.”

Ochako giggled as she mixed the assortment of ingredients Katsuki had thrown into a bowl per his request, singing along to Stairway to Heaven and pulling out a whisk from one of the drawers to use it as a makeshift microphone.

Dear lady, can you hear the wind blow? And did you know—” She sang—and she wasn’t half bad, Katsuki noted.

Your stairway lies on the whispering wiiiiiind?” Deku finished, much more off key. Katsuki snorted when both of them started playing their imaginary guitars as the guitar solo picked up speed and momentum. Katsuki flipped the contents of the pan he was holding over the stove lazily while Deku got on his knees in the living room, head banging and strumming his air guitar intensely with Ochako behind him singing into the whisk like she was in a music video. When that song finished, Fight for Your Right by the Beaties Boys came on and they immediately switched positions—Ochako head banging and playing the fake guitar while Deku yelled out the lyrics.

When they returned to the counter and sat down, they were panting and sweaty but had crooked smiles lighting up their faces that made the edges of their eyes crinkle attractively.

“They let you nerds save people’s lives professionally?” Bakugou inquired as he started dishing up food onto their plates.

“It’s your music,” Izuku countered, rushing to the kitchen to grab glasses and utensils for the table.

“Yeah,” Ochako agreed, accepting a plate of food in each hand and setting them down at the table and going over to Katsuki’s phone to stop the music, “Don’t even try to tell us you’ve never head banged to either one of those songs because I won’t believe it for a second!”

“The only time I’ve ever looked so stupid was when I was under the influence of my roommate’s quirk,” Katsuki responded, thinking back to when Shinsou used his quirk to force him to dance wildly to Bohemian Rhapsody. Kirishima had to hold him back so that he couldn’t shove the purple haired pest’s head down the toilet, “And when I drank a little too much at half face’s wedding.”

Midoriya threw down the chopsticks without any order, and then they were all sitting down with their legs tangled together underneath the table. It was a tiny ass table. It really couldn’t be helped, Katsuki told himself with a frown.

Izuku looked up at him with excited eyes, “What’s your roommate’s quirk?”

“Brainwashing,” He said simply, shoveling rice and pork into his mouth.

The bastard’s smiled widened, “Are you talking about Shinsou Hitoshi? His quirk is so cool!” His eyes glazed over like a fan boy. Ochako smiled fondly at Izuku, like this was a regular occurrence.

That’s right. Izuku was Shinsou’s homeroom teacher for a year.

Katsuki nodded, “He’s a shitty roommate with no boundaries so you can wipe that star struck look off your face. God, why are you acting like such a fan boy? He idolizes Deku. He’s got Deku underwear, you know. Will dance around the apartment with nothing but them on with his cat draped over his shoulders.” Midoriya blinked, snapping out of whatever trance he was in with that revelation, blushing and looking slightly uncomfortable. Ochako laughed.

“Izuku loves learning about other people’s quirks,” She explained, picking up some pork and rice with her chopsticks and wrapping her mouth around it. Katsuki watched with satisfaction as her faced morphed into an expression of euphoria.

“Yeah, actually I’ve been meaning to ask you about your quirk, Kacchan! How does it work? What kind of radius does it have? What were your parents’ quirks?” Deku asked, ignoring his food in favor of questioning the blonde, “Can you show it to me up close sometime?”

“Fucking eat your food that I slaved over,” Bakugou demanded, jabbing his chopsticks in his direction threateningly, “Then maybe I’ll tell you about my quirk, you damned nerd.”

“It’s really good, Izuku,” Ochako moaned through a mouthful of food, “We shouldn’t let him leave—he needs to cook for us for the rest of forever.”

“Fucking told you,” Katsuki preened.

“Oh, come on,” Midoriya scoffed, just to be disagreeable, “It can’t be that good.” He picked up a sizable bite and stuffed it in his mouth as if it was a huge chore eating Katsuki’s food. As soon as the food hit his tongue, he was moaning along with Ochako and scarfing down the food like it was motherfucking ambrosia.

“You were saying, green bean?”

“Fuuuck,” Midoriya groaned around a mouthful of pork, the sound making the hairs on the back of Katsuki’s neck stand up straight. Ochako wasn’t any better, licking the sauce off her chopsticks like a porn star. Did they even realize how obscene they looked?

“Would you shits have some manners?” He demanded, shoving napkins into their faces so that they wouldn’t notice his red face or his dilated eyes.

“Shit,” Ochako started, yanking the napkins off her face and shoving more food into her mouth, “You want us to have manners when you’ve handed us food that’s so sinfully good, I’m going to be dreaming about it for years?”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, “At least save room for dessert, you pigs.”

“You ma’e desser’?” Izuku cried with a full mouth, actual tears of joy escaping from his eyes.

“Are you pissbabies seriously older than me?”

“Get the dessert, Katsuki,” Ochako begged, grabbing hold of his hand and squeezing it like this was a life or death situation, “Please.”

Katsuki huffed, feeling more amused than he has in a while. He pushed his chair out and went to the fridge to pull out the dessert he’d made when they weren’t looking. It was mango over sweetened rice, one of Katsuki’s personal favorites. As he got closer, their greedy hands were reaching out to take the dessert from him but he stretched his arm out and away from them.

“Save me some, you toddlers.”

They nodded excitedly. Katsuki snorted and handed the dessert over, then got back to his food that he hadn’t inhaled like a barbarian like the other two had.

They made their obscene noises while eating dessert too and Katsuki stared down at his plate determinedly. He chanced a look up when their moans turned into whines—Izuku was close to tears and Ochako was pouting. Katsuki took that as his sign that he needed to eat his portion before they did anything impulsive. He snatched the plate away from them and calmly finished off the dessert.

“Where did you learn to cook like that?” Deku asked, patting his stomach.

“I taught myself,” He informed them, “Because I’m a fucking perfectionist.”

“Oh my god,” bemoaned Ochako, “I ate way too much!”

Bakugou rolled his eyes.

They turned his music back on while they cleaned everything up—Izuku insisted that he would wipe the counters and table off, which is how Katsuki found himself hip to hip with Ochako at the sink while he scrubbed the dishes and she dried them off and put them away. She was standing closer to him then was necessary, but he really didn’t mind the proximity. When she wasn’t looking, he flicked water at her and laughed when her retaliation was to smack the back of his head with her towel. Her laughter filled the apartment as Seven Nation Army faded out into silence.

His blood went cold when a very specific song came up next on his playlist and he scrambled over to his phone to change it. To his dismay, Deku had gotten there first—had he used his goddamn quirk? He was taking his sweet time wiping off the dining room table last Bakugou checked—and was holding his phone well out of Katsuki’s reach.

“Well, well, well,” Izuku hummed, eyes glinting mischievously and smirking like the cat that caught the canary, “What do we have here?”

“You look fucking scary, Deku,” Katsuki pointed out, stretching to try and get the phone out of the nerd’s greedy grasp. But Izuku held him off with ease, one hand shoved into Katsuki’s chest and not budging an inch, “Kind of like a villain.”

“Is this your theme song, Kacchan?” Ochako teased evilly, poking her head out from behind Deku and when did she fucking get there? She slipped the phone out of her boyfriend’s grasp, put that damned song on repeat and then used her quirk to float it to the ceiling—well out of Katsuki’s reach.

“You both think you’re fucking hilarious, don’t you?” Katsuki growled, taking swings at Izuku who dodged them easily, “Shinsou must have put this shitty song on my phone to mess with me—you think I’d actually listen to this crap?”

Their twin smirks told him: we absolutely think you’d listen to this crap.

“Sing along, Kacchan,” Ochako suggested gleefully, “This place about to bloooo-o-o-o-o-o-o-oh!

“Shut up,” He barked, giving up in his fight against Izuku and turning back to the dishes petulantly as he strained to ignore the stupid ass Kesha song, “Dry these motherfucking dishes.”

“Aw, Kacchan,” Izuku smiled, “You can’t listen to broody rock and roll songs all the time. We understand completely.”

“And the chorus is all about blowing shit up!” Ochako added like the evil wench she is, “Of course you’d listen to it!”

“I fucking hate both of you.”

They laughed, each of them saddling up to the blonde and crowding him against the sink—Ochako on Katsuki’s left and Izuku on his right. Bakugou turned around, leaving the water running, to give them a piece of his mind but stopped short when it hit him just how close they were. And they were getting closer; Izuku shoved his feet apart so that he could settle on either side of his leg while Ochako mimicked his actions. Whatever insulting comment he was going to say died on the tip of his tongue as he stared down at hooded green and brown eyes.

“Aw,” Deku said, low in his throat and with that villainous smile that seriously was doing things to Bakugou. He dipped his head down a little, staring up at the blonde as he spoke—his lips brushing against Katsuki’s clothed collarbone with every word he uttered, “Don’t say that, Kacchan. We’re just teasing you. I think it’s kind of adorable that you like this song.”

“Mmm,” purred Ochako, her hand creeping up his chest to cup Katsuki’s jaw and Bakugou hardly even noticed her releasing her quirk and catching his phone easily so that she could turn the music off, “And you look so nice when you’re embarrassed. Our self-conscious, pretty boy. Don’t you think he’s pretty, Izuku?”

“I do,” Deku agreed, nipping at his collarbone.

“Fuck,” Katsuki managed, body moving all on it’s own. One of his hands found its way into Izuku’s curls, scratching at his scalp lazily, while his other arm wound its way around Ochako’s soft waist, pulling her closer without really meaning to. He nuzzled his head into both of theirs, drinking in their scents and their warmth and honest to god afraid of the implications of never wanting to leave this safe haven.

“Fuck,” He repeated, clinging onto their clothes like a lifeline, “What’d you fuckers do to me? Why do I let you help me? What right do you have to help me? Huh?” He astonished himself with the lack of bite behind his words, with how calmly he was communicating his thoughts to the couple. They didn’t answer, only held onto him tighter. “I was fine by myself, you know. You fucked that up, and I haven’t even known you all that long. What the fuck is happening to me?”

Ochako petted his hair, “We have every right to help you, Katsuki.”

Izuku nosed at his jaw, “Because we like you and because we decided that you’re ours. Got it?”

Katsuki gulped, tugging halfheartedly at the waist of Deku’s slacks without any real intention of doing anything, “Let me repay you. You’ve done too much. I need to repay you.”

Ochako shook her head, “You don’t need to repay us.”

“We just want to make you happy, Kacchan,” Deku murmured against his skin, guiding Katsuki’s hand back into his hair.

“You pity me.”

“You’re stronger than either one of us,” Ochako said softly, leaning more into Katsuki and reaching behind him to turn off the tap, “How could we possibly pity you?”

“We admire you,” Izuku affirmed fervently.

Katsuki couldn’t find any words to retaliate with. Their words made him feel good in a way he’s never felt before and he didn’t really want to let it go.

They backed away from him, each of their hands sliding down his arms until they found his hands—how were they so in sync with one another? They tugged him away from the sink, directing him to the living room and shoving his shoulders lightly until he sunk into their couch.

“Now,” Izuku started, sitting down and throwing his legs over Katsuki’s lap, “I think you promised to tell me about your quirk.”

Ochako claimed Bakugou’s other side, wheedling her head underneath his arm until he raised it enough for her to rest her head on his chest. She reached out to Izuku and Katsuki watched with rapt eyes as their fingers tangled together and settled on Deku’s lap.

“Fuckin’ nerd,” the blonde breathed, snapping out of his trance with a tired smirk, “My quirk is the most kick ass quirk that ever did quirk. I’ll kick even your ass. Now fucking listen…”




They drove him home. Walked him to the doorstop—stopped at the mailbox with him because god knows Shinsou will never get the mail himself—because they were committed motherfuckers and wanted to do this date thing right or some other shit equally as stupid. They each planted a slobbery kiss on each of his cheeks, but not on the lips. It wasn’t even ten o’clock. What perfect assholes.

“Hey, Bakugou,” Shinsou greeted from the kitchen table. He was eating a bowl of cereal in nothing but his boxers. His Deku boxers.

Katsuki snorted at the sight, throwing his mail at the fucker like usual, “What’s up, sleepy?”

Hitoshi shrugged, “Where’ve you been all day?”

Katsuki sucked in a long breath, “My asshole teacher was an asshole, and I almost blew up the city out of anger. This fucking close,” He brought his thumb and forefinger close together to illustrate, “But then I didn’t. Went on a date. Had fun. I’m tired as fuck.”

Shinsou dropped his spoon into his milk, making a mess.

“Shut your shitty gaping mouth,” Katsuki rolled his eyes, “I can go on fucking dates.”

“Was it with the same person that tipped you?”

Katsuki grit his teeth. Why was his stupid roommate so clever?

“None of your business.”

“It totally was. I so told you so.”

“I’ll murder you in your sleep.”

“I’ll die in the satisfaction of being right,” Shinsou sighed, eyes closed to the heavens like he was thanking god for blessing him so magnanimously.

“Whatever. You better be ready for tomorrow, asshat.”

“Right back at you,” Shinsou smirked, stroking his foot across Voldy’s back from where the cat was lying underneath the table, “But above all, our opponents better be ready for us.”

Bakugou grinned, “That’s the motherfucking spirit.”

Chapter Text

P U T  T H E  M E A T  O N  M Y  B O N E S

C H A P T E R  F I V E

-when you need that fire-

There were a lot of extras in Katsuki’s life that he could care less about and certainly too many to keep track of where he vaguely recognizes some from. So imagine his disgruntled surprise when he strolled into the locker room with Shinsou to see none other than fucking Winnie the Pooh from his rescue class getting ready for their two on twos like the fucker wasn’t a brash, self-centered piece of shit who liked dropping buildings on his classmates, like he somehow belonged on a team with anyone let alone Bakugou.

“Oi,” Katsuki called, changing course despite his better judgment and heading over to the animal impersonating fuckwit, “You’re the fucker that nearly dropped a building on me, right?”

Himura’s head snapped over to the sound of Katsuki challenging him, recognition igniting his eyes. His stupid expression immediately turned into a smug one, and he shut his locker, leaned his shoulder against it with his arms crossed and regarded Katsuki with the air of someone who was about to make an ass of themselves.

“Bakugou, right?” Fuck-bear asked, all teeth and arrogance, “You handled it just fine. And I only expected as much from someone who went to U.A.—even if it was only for a semester.”

“What the fuck did you just say?” Katsuki was vaguely aware of Shinsou standing behind him ready to pounce on the blonde should he lose his temper, but he could hardly care less. He raised his smoking fists in a fighting stance, ready to blow Winnie the Fucker’s head off if he said anymore dogmatic shit. Most of his classmates knew about his expulsion from U.A., thanks to Yamazaki’s big mouth, but no one ever confronted the blonde about it.

Himura stepped towards Bakugou, placing a hand on the blonde’s shoulder in mock sympathy. “Careful with that temper, Bakugou,” He said, manipulative amusement lighting up his eyes, “Wouldn’t want to get kicked out of another school, would you?”

Bakugou reeled his right hand back, feeling more than justified to backhand this bastard across the face, when Shinsou stepped around him, digging his pointy elbows in his ribs, and addressed the asshole.

“Oi,” He said lazily.

“What?” Himura barked at the purple haired boy before freezing, mouth hanging open like an oaf.

“Shit yourself,” Hitoshi commanded, lips twitching upward.

Bakugou blinked, anger returning to his bones where it could lay dormant for a little while longer while his arms returned to his sides. He bit his lip to keep himself from laughing because Shinsou did not need to be encouraged. And because he was pretty annoyed that the sleepy fucker liked to fight his battles for him when the bastard thought Katsuki would go too far or shit.

Coach Ito, who was an honest guy but truly a little oblivious at times, hastily scrambled towards the boys. “Alright, break it up,” He instructed amidst the giggles from their other teammates, nose wrinkling. Shinsou let go of his control over Himura who rapidly looked reasonably mortified. Ito sighed, “Get Himura a new uniform to wear, Shinsou. You little shit. Himura. Clean yourself up.”

Himura ran off to the bathroom while Shinsou walked away, whistling, to fufill coach’s request. Ito stooped down to murmur into Bakugou’s ear, “Himura kind of had it coming, didn’t he?”

Bakugou snorted, “Shinsou needs to mind his own business.”

But fuck if that wasn’t the funniest thing he’d seen all week.

Grumbling, he sauntered over to his locker and started getting ready. When Shinsou returned with a smirk to do the same, Bakugou flipped him off.

“Don’t be like that, Katsuki,” Shinsou chirped as he got to work opening his locker. Bakugou angrily stepped out of his shorts, fumbling because he was too impatient to remove his shoes first. But he growled at Hitoshi, just so the fucker would know that he was annoyed with him. Shinsou laughed, “Come on. I wanted you to punch that asshole probably as much as you did—”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“—but then coach would have been forced to suspend you from our match today and I would have lost my teammate and been royally screwed.”

Katsuki let out a long breath. Shinsou had this annoying ability of helping Bakugou out under the guise of thinking only of himself. It drove Bakugou up the wall because it worked and because the fucker didn’t have any right to understand Katsuki as well as he does.

He maneuvered into his uniform haughtily, slamming his locker shut to emphasize his next statement.

“You’re stupid.”

“You love me.”

“I hate you,” Katsuki amended.

Shinsou grinned, “You gonna kick my ass?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“No you’re not,” Shinsou argued.

“You’re stupid.”

“You already said that, Bakugou. Running out of insults?” Victorious was a terrible look on Katsuki’s roommate, “Or are you just going soft?”

“Shut the hell up and die.”

Thankfully, Shinsou quit teasing him as he followed Katsuki out to the field. Their match wasn’t until near the end, so they’d have plenty of time to watch and mull over their own strategies. Katsuki had brought his notes on the other team and shoved them into Hitoshi’s face for some last minute studying. When they sat down in the stands with the rest of their team—Himura looking peeved in a uniform obviously too small for him—Katsuki’s phone buzzed.

Round Cheeks 9:56 am: kick ass, kacchan!

Katsuki blinked at the message, looking around the stadium as if he could pick out where the nerds were sitting amidst the mass of sports fans, if they were even here. His efforts were in vain and he slid his phone back into his pocket.

The visiting team had interesting and powerful quirks but, from what Katsuki could tell, little direction on how to properly apply those quirks in battle. Or maybe every single one of them forgot they had this thing called a brain—even when it was Himura’s turn to descend into the stadium with his partner, they didn’t do a half-assed job. Katsuki was more than confident that he and Shinsou would win.

“Hey, Bakugou,” Shinsou nudged Katsuki’s side with his elbow, nodding at the large wide screen displaying the lineup, “Our opponents have been decided.” He glanced at the papers Katsuki had given him, “Looks like we’re up against some stretchy dude and a girl with a time quirk?” He squinted at the blonde’s notes, “You wrote down ‘OP’ next to both of them."

Katsuki shrugged, “They’ll probably be the toughest competitors we see of this shitty visiting university today. But like I tell you all the fucking time: quirks have physical limits. I’m guessing there’s not much to stretchy asshole’s quirk, but I am guessing that he can’t stretch indefinitely—so let’s not let him get too close. As for time chick—we have no idea what her quirk even entails seeing as she’s a freshman at her school. As usual, try and get a rise out of them so you can activate your quirk, but if that’s a no go our first priority is to figure out how the hell her quirk even works. Then, we can work around it.”

Shinsou nodded, greedily reading Katsuki’s notes on the duo over and over again. Katsuki snorted—his roommate had written his own notes on the other team and had studied it backwards and forwards. Bakugou had only given his notes to Shinsou in the first place so that they could match the quirk to the opponent. Any studying he did now was pointless so the blonde snatched the papers from Hitoshi’s hands and incinerated them.

“Watch,” Katsuki commanded simply.

Shinsou complied lazily, leaning forward and propping his head up on his arm. They sat in comfortable silence, regarding the matches with calculative eyes until it was time for them to leave to the waiting room before their match. Katsuki frowned when he noticed that Shinsou’s shoulders were tense.

“Loosen the fuck up, sleepy,” He told him as he slapped his shoulder, “Just be an asshole, and you’ll do fine.”

“Thanks, Bakugou,” Shinsou intoned dryly, “You’re so encouraging.”

“You bet your ass I am.”

Next thing they knew, they were walking out into the middle of the stadium shoulder to shoulder while the commentator called out their names. Neither he nor Hitoshi waved to the crowd, too focused on sizing their opponents up.

The time chick was dainty as fuck—would probably snap in half if Bakugou breathed at her wrong. The laffy taffy guy was surprisingly burly and was cracking his fists threateningly—a stupid move because it gave something away about the idiot’s quirk. Katsuki rolled his shoulders and stepped into a fighting stance.

The rules were the same as any tournament you’d see in the U.A. sports festival—you win if you either send both of your rivals out of bounds, incapacitate them, or get them to utter the words ‘I give up’. There were professionals on watch in case the fighting got out of hand, and there were hundreds of pro heroes in the crowd scouting out potential sidekicks. In fact, everything felt the same to Bakugou as his first and only year participating in the sports festival—the same rush to win, backed by a force of adrenaline, the same thrill of raising his fists in the air and waiting to ignite the fuse that would bring him victory.

The horn blared, and the stretchy fuck immediately shot his beefy arm out at Katsuki who dodged and aimed an explosion at the offending limb. The heat from the blast caused the boy to hiss, reeling his arm back in and cradling it into his chest. From the corner of his eye, Bakugou could see the girl watching purposefully—but she wasn’t making any moves yet so Katsuki put her on the backburner. He ducked when silly putty stretched his other arm out and swung it in a long arch across the field. He glanced back at Hitoshi and was glad to see that he managed to dodge it as well.

“Hey, asshole!” Shinsou yelled, “You got any bones in there? Or are you literally lacking a spine?”

No response. They probably knew about his quirk, then.

“He’s got bones,” Katsuki told his teammate loudly, making sure their opponents could hear, “Otherwise his fat ass wouldn’t be able to hold itself together.”

Shinsou smirked, accepting Katsuki’s assessment easily, “Probably doesn’t need a skull though—idiot looks dumber than a corpse. Likely has no brain.”

Their opponent growled, throwing an elongated fist into the air and freezing in his tracks with that glazed over look that Bakugou has come to associate with Shinsou’s quirk.

“You are an idiot then,” Katsuki sighed, “You made this too easy.”

“Tell everyone that you give up,” Shinsou instructed.

“I give up,” the asshole pronounced obediently.

The stands were in an uproar, and the commentator was screaming over the mic. Shinsou let go of his control over their opponent who now stood blinking in confusion and, when he realized that he was out of the game, he grumpily sauntered off the field. Katsuki and Hitoshi reoriented their focus on the girl. Bakugou had a feeling that, even though she was outnumbered, this is where their real challenged lied.

Well if she wasn’t going to make any moves, Katsuki may as well.

Using his quirk, he blasted forward aiming a kick at her legs. He was fast—he knew how fast he was. His reflexes have always been perfect and they’ve only gotten better over time. And he’d been watching her from the corner of his eye, and, aside from her quirk that they still weren’t sure how it worked, she wasn’t particularly fit. Katsuki was determined and sure that he’d get at least a good hit on her. But his kick only met empty air, and then the chick was behind him. Not missing a beat, Bakugou sent off a flurry of explosions to dig through the ground and launch them at his opponent. She dodged easily, and Katsuki knew her own reflexes had nothing to do with her prowess and everything to do with her quirk.

“A time quirk, huh?” He asked, “You—”

“Ever take back my own decisions?” She finished for him, “It doesn’t work like that.”

Katsuki smirked, “How does it work then?”

She didn’t respond, only stepped out of the way when Bakugou surged forward. Quickly, they found themselves in a dance where he would attack and she would avoid. Katsuki had to admit that no one has ever been able to evade his attacks so easily—it was a little thrilling.

The commentator’s voice echoed throughout the stadium, going on and on about how Katsuki’s so fast that she only has time to evade. His eyebrow quirks up at that, and he starts piecing things together. His theories are more or less confirmed when he purposefully slows down just to see what she’ll do. This time, instead of just evading, she rushes forward and aims a fist at the blonde’s head. He blinks, ducking out of the way and directing an explosion at her stomach. She jumps back, narrowly avoiding his attack. He raises his fist again and drops his jaw when Shinsou comes out of nowhere and kicks her legs out from underneath her.

Katsuki grins like a predator, “You can only focus on one of us, huh?”

She blinks up at him, and Shinsou takes the opportunity to pin her to the ground. She squirms underneath him but doesn’t budge an inch. Katsuki raises his hands in warning, making a statement. Give up.

Her jaw drops and she stops squirming.

“I give up,” She says.

Shinsou let go of her, offering her a hand to help her up. She accepts his help, dusting herself off when she’s back on her feet. They shake hands, giving each other a job well done. Then Shinsou heads over to the stretchy guy to do the same because he was too fucking nice.

Katsuki extends his hand to the girl and says genuinely, “You put up a good fight. Not many can evade my attacks like that.”

She offers him a smile, “You’re insightful. No one has ever figured out my quirk that fast.”

He smirks, “What’d you see to make you give up?”

She shrugged, “I’ll be honest—I was expecting to be blown up.”

“Why the fuck—”

“—would you blow me up?” She finished and then explained simply, “You’re tenacious.”

Katsuki considered her words and then conceded, “I really fucking am.”

She stared at him intently, not saying a word. Then, after what felt like an eternity, she giggled with a dusting of red on her cheeks, “A couple is waiting for you in your recovery room. I’d lose your friend before you get there if I were you.” Katsuki’s eyes widened and he could feel his face heating up at her words. She giggled again, “The three of you are cute together. Wouldn’t have ever expected something like that from a guy like you. Bye…” She wiggled her fingers in a teasing wave as she started walking to her team’s recovery room, “Kacchan.”

Katsuki was tempted to actually fucking blow her up, but was stopped short by Shinsou returning to his side.

“Bakugou, why is your face so ugly right now?” He inquired, finger looming in Katsuki’s peripherals. The blonde shoved the fucker away before he could successfully poke his face. Shinsou squinted at him and gasped, “Are you blushing? What did she say to you?"

“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” grumbled Katsuki, shouldering his way through his teammate to make his way off the field, “Don’t follow me to the recovery room.”

“Hah?” Shinsou caught up to him quickly, “Why not?”

“Don’t ask me stupid questions and just listen to me for once in your damned life,” Bakugou snarled.

Hitoshi quirked his head to the side, infuriatingly calm, “What’s in it for me?”

The blonde stopped short of the hallway that would eventually lead to the recovery room and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, “I’ll cook dinner for you twice next week.”

“Three times.”

“Whatever. Just go straight to the locker room, fucker.”

Shinsou shrugged and then waved his hand in farewell lackadaisically, “You’ll tell me what’s going on eventually.”

“In your dreams, ugly,” He called down the corridor.

Katsuki watched Shinsou climb up the stairs at the end of the hallway and waited another moment. He sucked in a long breath, walked over to the door—the sign to the left of it was shitty and faded like every other thing at this hellhole, but still clearly read ‘recovery room’—and twisted the knob. When he pushed open the door a crack, two pairs of bright eyes were sparkling at him.

Katsuki rolled his eyes and slid through the door.

Ochako launched herself at him, grinning like an idiot. Deku wasn’t far behind her, although he didn’t assault the blonde like his girlfriend currently was.

“Kacchan!” Izuku exclaimed, “You looked so cool out there!” He jumped into a pose, mimicking Katsuki from his fight, “Your quirk is so cool and you’re like crazy fast! With reflexes like that, you can really overcome and avoid a lot of nasty situations in hero work! And because of that you were able to keep up with that girl even though she could see everything you were going to do. I can’t believe you figured out her quirk that fast. I didn’t even figure out her quirk that fast, not until it was over! But her quirk was really cool too! The longer she keeps her eyes on someone the farther she can see into their future! A quirk like that could really come in handy in hero work—”

“Shut the hell up, Deku!” Katsuki interrupted, squeezing his hand between his chest and Ochako’s face and shoving her away. He took it back—the bastard was assaulting him with his nonstop muttering, “What are you even doing back here?”

Izuku froze, hand coming up to meet the top of his head so that he could rub his hair sheepishly. Katsuki raised an eyebrow, only now noticing that he was wearing his hero costume with his ridiculous hood down. They were both in their hero costumes.

“Are you,” Bakugou began, squinting at their outfits, “Are you scouting?”

Deku is infamous for never taking sidekicks—just as All Might had done it. Uravity had a few sidekicks of her own but, from what Katsuki could tell, she was extremely picky with whom she invited to intern with her and whom she recruited. So to see them decked out in their hero costumes at a sports battle at his shitty university was weird. Overwhelming.

To see them decked out in their hero costumes period was overwhelming. Suddenly they weren’t just the nerds he let do nice things for him—they were gods. Unstoppable according to anyone anywhere. Deku was on the same level as All Might for crying out loud. Albeit, Izuku really didn’t have the same stature as the retired hero. But those shoulders weren’t anything to snuff at—they were broad and observably had stories to tell of bearing others’ burdens. A distant memory comes to mind where Katsuki had been walking downtown with his parents only to be stopped short by a villain incident. He remembers seeing Deku jumping seventy feet in the air and knocking out a baddie who had a size quirk with just a swift swing of his right arm. And Katsuki eyed that arm now where, underneath his gloves, he knew laid scars and disfigurement—proof that the god was only a man.

And Ochako. Bakugou had never seen Uravity in action like he had Deku, but god he suddenly wanted her on top of him—trapping him in between those sturdy thighs she’d been hiding behind sweatpants and jeans up until this moment. He’s only ever known her as Ochako, has never connected strength with the woman. But strength was all he could see when he looked at her now. Tough as nails with a smile like a kitten. A rock foundation with eyes like summer. A detonation in Katsuki’s withering resolve; a warm elixir for all the cracks left in its wake.

God he was screwed.

Ochako grabbed Katsuki by the wrist and guided him to the bed where he might have had to lie if he needed to be checked out by a medical assistant. But he didn’t because he was fine. The only thing that stopped him from whining at her coddling was that she sat on the bed with him, close enough that she could lean into him and lace their fingers together. He raised an eyebrow when Izuku elected to pull up a chair to sit directly in front of Katsuki, their knees touching.

“We mostly came to watch you,” Ochako admitted, smiling warm and blinding up at him, “But we dressed up just in case someone caught our eye.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, “And? Did anyone?”

She hummed, invading Katsuki’s space and pressing a kiss onto his jaw, “Mm. Besides you?”

Katsuki snorted, but leant into her lips, “Yes, you smartass.”

“In fact,” Izuku began, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs. He was staring up at Katsuki with serious eyes that were peeking through his green curls like light bleeding through treetops. Ochako had been flirty and playful but Izuku was straight-faced and earnest, like he wanted Katsuki to take to heart whatever he was about to say, “No one caught our eye. My eye. Besides you, that is.”

“The fuck?” Katsuki bit out, that familiar anxiety and anger creeping up his ribcage once again, “You never take any fucking interns.”

Ochako pulled back, but moving her hand to his shoulder.

Izuku sighed, “I can see the gears turning in your head and I want you to stop thinking for a second while I explain—”

“What? You just happen to meet my fucked up self holding a list of problems a mile long and decided you need to take them all on like I can’t fend for myself? You think I need your internship to make anything of my shitty self? You think just because I wanna fuck you that I’ll accept your pity?”

Katsuki,” Ochako chided, “We’ve already told you that what we do is not out of pity. I thought you understood that.”

Katsuki shrugged her hand off of his shoulder, “And maybe I believed that with everything you’ve offered so far—but what else could this be?”

Izuku rolled his eyes, fixing them on the blonde with a burning intensity that set Katsuki’s insides aflame. Aflame with anger, with lust, with a childish sense of hope, “You said it yourself: I never take any sidekicks. I wouldn’t offer this to you unless I was serious.” Katsuki opened his mouth to argue, but Izuku held up a hand to stop him short, “Nuh uh. Listen.” He waited patiently for Bakugou to shut his mouth peevishly and then continued, “I see something in you, Katsuki. Not just something I like or that I find attractive, but something that I trust.” Katsuki’s anger visibly retreated at those words, his eyes betraying just how in awe he was. Izuku focused in on those eyes, staring back with just as much reverence and respect, “And you’re right. This offer is different from everything else. Not because I pity you, but because I’m not asking you to accept me helping you. I’m asking you to help me.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest while he stared Katsuki down resolutely. He cocked an eyebrow as if to say ‘I dare you to refute me’.

Katsuki grabbed the nerd by the back of his neck and yanked him forward, meeting his lips with his own aggressively. Izuku didn’t fight it, only moved his lips rhythmically with Katsuki’s. Something unspoken trickled into the kiss, something Izuku picked up on quickly, and it wasn’t long before Bakugou was overwhelmed by the intensity with which Deku was kissing him. It was a lot of teeth and tongue and all the passion that Katsuki needed from this kind of intimacy, this kind of communication. Izuku’s hand found it’s way into ash-blonde hair, pulling Katsuki even closer while he used his tongue to dominate the kiss—Bakugou had never loved feeling so out of control in his entire life.

Izuku pulled back, smirking, “Are you done acting like a brat?”

“You really want me to intern with you?” Katsuki asked, panting against Izuku’s lips, “Because I’m a badass motherfucker and no other fucking reason?”

“Really,” Izuku said, honesty flashing across his eyes like a lighthouse, “When we have more time, I’ll have to explain a lot more to you.” He raised his hand to cup Katsuki’s face and smiled at him tenderly, “You’re amazing, Kacchan. The more I’m around you the more I admire you.” Something in his eyes turned from soft to primal in an instant, “Now be a good boy and give Ochako a kiss as nice as the one you gave me.”

Katsuki complied eagerly, claiming Ochako’s lips like they were an oasis and he was a man deprived of water. Her lips felt different from Izuku’s. They were soft and plump and moved with the grace and ferocity of a lion. While she fondled his stomach like an eager teenager, Izuku tugged lightly on the hair he was still holding onto. The blonde moaned into Ochako’s mouth, creating an easy in for her tongue to invade. She traced around his teeth expertly, flicked the end of her tongue across the roof of his mouth, then retreated to bite down on his lower lip. She tugged on it, letting it go as she backed off just a smidge. Katsuki tangled his fingers in her hair, staring into her brown eyes and feeling like he would let her devour him if she asked.

She pulled away and smiled.

“We bought you something, you know,” Ochako pronounced proudly, forehead leaning against his, “Since we’re your self-proclaimed sugar daddies, we figured we might as well purchase something tasteful and expensive for you.”

“If ya hadn’t acted like sugar daddies, I wouldn’t have called you out on it,” Katsuki countered, wondering when the hell they even had time to buy him anything, “But shit. I’ll accept tasteful and expensive from you two nerds.” He made grabby hands at them; exhibiting his faux impatience for whatever they’d bought him mostly for the hell of it.

Izuku rolled his eyes, letting go of Bakugou’s hair and fishing for something in one of the many pouches of his utility belt. He grabbed Katsuki’s right arm and slid something cool and metal around his wrist, adjusting it to fit and then clicking it in place. A watch, Katsuki noted once Deku’s hands were out of the way. A nice watch. Gold with green and brown accents. Just like their goddamn eyes.

“We had to pull a few strings to get this so quickly,” Izuku murmured, “But we couldn’t come see you empty handed.”

He lowered his mouth to the blonde’s wrist and brushed his lips across the veins sitting just above the clasp of the watch.

“We’ve got to go,” He said, lips kissing skin with every word he spoke.

“We’ll see you again soon,” Ochako added, tugging on the sleeve of Bakugou’s uniform so that the watch was tucked underneath it—out of sight from any prying eyes. “Actually,” She chirped as she got to her feet, “I was wondering if you’d maybe want to spar sometime?”

Katsuki eyed her from toe to mouth, “Why do I feel like you’re going to kick my ass?”

“Because I will,” She smirked, “Is that a yes?”

“Fucking come at me, angel face.”

Izuku stood up too, towing Bakugou with him.

“You’ll regret those words, Kacchan!” He laughed, smiling at his girlfriend affectionately. Then he lifted his eyes back to Bakugou and changed the subject, “I’ll send you a formal offer through your university,” He searched through another pocket, “We’ll have to sit down and talk about this more in depth. Sooner rather than later. I know you’ve seen through me,” He thrust an old folded up newspaper article, yellowed in age, into Katsuki’s chest, “I’ll have to tell you everything.”

Katsuki stared at the piece of paper in his hands, dumbfounded.

“We’ll text you,” They sang simultaneously, waving at the door and then disappearing before Katsuki could say anything else.

He shook his head, tucking the article into his pockets and promising himself that he’d read it later.

The watch felt like it weighed a hundred pounds on his wrist, ever present amidst his senses. Every twitch of his hand pushed the metal into his skin, every flick of his wrist would need to be calculated so as not to draw attention to the accessory, every moment it sat cold and heavy on his bones.

But this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.




“Bakugou,” Shinsou greeted when Katsuki returned to the stands and plopped down next to him, “You look unusually chipper.”

“We just fucking won our match, idiot.”

“Uh huh,” Shinsou annunciated like he didn’t believe that was all there was to it at all. It made Bakugou want to punch his stupid face. “Well,” Hitoshi drawled, “Just remember that you owe me three delicious meals next week.”

“Hah?” Katsuki intoned, eyes on the match that was progressing below them, “Who said they had to be delicious?”

“We both know your pride won’t allow you to make anything that isn’t perfect.”

“Fuck. You’re right.”

Shinsou grinned, eyes flittering down to Katsuki’s arms. The blonde grabbed onto his right wrist, instinctually blocking the watch from Hitoshi’s greedy eyes. But he knew that his roommate saw the sun reflecting off the metal if Shinsou’s bothersome leer said anything about it. Which it did. It spoke volumes.

“You’re so annoying,” He muttered, elbowing his roommate in the ribs.

Shinsou shrugged, “S’long as you’re happy, Katsuki.”

“I’m fucking delighted.”

“Hey you don’t work right after this, right?”

Katsuki shook his head.

“Good,” grinned Shinsou, “I bought that cake we were talking about the other day. We’re going to celebrate you not being a violent wreck by gorging ourselves on it.”


“It’s choooocolate.”





When Katsuki got into work that evening—after Shinsou forced him down and shoved a plate of cake in his face—his boss congratulated him for his victory that morning. He grinned and professed that it was nothing—and he did that the entire night as customers began to recognize him from his match they’d watched on television and he loved every fucking second of it. Although there was a blonde chick who was really coming on way too strong and honest to god giving him the creeps. He was more than okay when she decided to leave The Bar, even when her tip was absolute shit.

He was a little shocked when Todoroki Shouto walked in as she walked out, and he was suddenly very thankful that he'd elected to keep his shiny new watch at home.

“What’s up, icyhot?” He inquired, crossing his arms onto the bar. It was a Saturday evening and it was busy, so whatever half n’ half had to say had to be quick. But the bastard was focusing on the door to The Bar where that chick had just walked out, eyes glazed over like he was in his own little world. Katsuki reached forward and snapped his fingers in the two-toned asshole’s face.

Todoroki blinked, and greeted the blonde with monotone syllables, “Bakugou.”

“What are you doing here, asshat?” Katsuki eyed him up and down.

“I saw your performance on television today,” Shouto explained, and thank god Todoroki was the type of person to get straight to the point because Katsuki was never in the mood to have small talk with anyone, “Wanted to offer you an internship at my agency. Figured an email would just piss you off.”

Bakugou’s eyebrows disappeared behind his hair, “You’re fucking with me.”

Shouto shook his head, “You’re still an exemplary asshole. But you’ve changed a lot since high school.”

Katsuki shrugged, “Had to. But I’ll have to decline—already got an offer somewhere else.”

Todoroki’s white eyebrow quirked upwards, “Oh, really? Who from?”

“Not telling.”

“Hmm.” Icyhot brought a hand to his mouth, like this development was extremely unexpected. Katsuki craned his head to try and hear whatever the bastard was muttering to himself and he thought Todoroki said something along the lines of ‘so he did it after all’ but Katsuki couldn’t be so sure because of all the background noise. “You’ll have to stop by at the least.” Shouto insisted, “Momo has some designs she’s made with you in mind.”

“Why the hell did she do that?”

“You’re our friend?”

“You have friends?”

Todoroki bit his tongue, but was clearly amused by Katsuki’s assholery.

“Well,” The two-toned bastard started with the air of someone who felt extremely uncomfortable—but honestly Shouto was always like that, “That’s all I had to say. Text me and we can spar sometime.”

“In your dreams,” spat Katsuki even though he knew full well that he’d do exactly as Todoroki said.

Shouto waved his hand in farewell and left the blonde to tend to his other customers.




Bakugou had one thing on his mind as he walked home. His aching legs and feet, his sore muscles, the pure exhaustion clouding up his mind—all of that was muted by the need to get home and open up that article Midoriya had passed off to him. It was all that he could think about throughout the entire day—it had driven him nuts that he couldn’t find an opportunity before his shift at The Bar.

He was grateful to himself that he’d gotten the mail earlier that day and now he could just beeline to his bedroom, collapse on his bed, and read that damned newspaper. He yanked it out of his pocket as he passed through the living room, unfolding it underneath the threshold of his door, and digging into as he bounced into his pillows.

It’s exactly what he thought it was—the article that he’d found online, only it wasn’t blacked out. It had all of the essential details to make it a coherent story. Izuku’s story.

“What the fuck,” He muttered to himself from just glancing at the headline of the story, “…quirkless?”

From what Katsuki had seen of Deku there wasn’t a thing about the hero that said quirkless. You couldn’t do the things he did without a quirk. And he wasn’t talking about saving people—Katsuki glanced at the picture he’d taken from his parent’s house. The one of his first day at U.A. That was a fucked up kid with a lot of problems and those problems held him back from being a hero. If Bakugou could overcome his issues by sheer willpower alone, then he was of the belief that anyone could be a hero. No. Katsuki was talking about jumping hundreds of feet in the air, and creating wind drafts with the flick of his fingers, and crushing fridges with his bare hands. That had to be a quirk.

He scanned through the article avariciously. It was about Midoriya being the first person without a quirk to ever be accepted into U.A.’s hero course. There were comments from Izuku himself, from Midoriya Inko, and from the nerd’s middle school classmates and teachers. Bakugou thanked the universe that he didn’t go to middle school with Izuku. With how messed up he was back then, he’d have hated the nerd for being quirkless for sure.

He finished the article with even more questions than before.

He yanked out his phone and composed a message to Izuku.

Bakugou 3:12 am: What the fuck, green bean?

He decided that about summed up his rattled thoughts, so he rolled over and welcomed in sleep.

Chapter Text

P U T  T H E  M E A T  O N  M Y  B O N E S

C H A P T E R  S I X

-spinning and i can’t sit still-


Green bean 11:23 am: I have to follow a lead today.

Green bean 11:23 am: Tomorrow. We’ll talk tomorrow.

Green bean 11:24 am: But I think Ochako wants to see you today???

Green bean 11:24 am: Be a good boy for her!!!

Bakugou 11:37 am: You be a good boy for her.




Round Cheeks 12:06 pm: kacchan

Round Cheeks 12:06 pm: do u work today

Round Cheeks 12:07 pm: izuku is being all super stealth spy-like on a mission and i’ve got a few hours before my next patrol around the city and i’m bored

Bakugou 12:15 pm: What the fuck do you want me to do about it?

Round Cheeks 12:17 pm: come spar with me

Bakugou 12:18 pm: I have homework.

Round Cheeks 12:19 pm: yeah hero homework. i’m a hero so come learn from me duh

Round Cheeks 12:19 pm: we could even make out a little

Bakugou 12:20 pm: I’ll ask my shitty roommate if I can borrow his motorcycle.

Round Cheeks 12:22 pm: yay!!!! <3

Bakugou 12:23 pm: </3

Katsuki slid his laptop off of his lap and tossed it onto one of his pillows. Standing up, he locked his phone and put it in his pocket. He was honestly a little thankful to have a distraction—he’s been trying to focus on his homework for hours but hasn’t been able to get his mind off of Midoriya Izuku and all of his plot twists. Throwing punches with Ochako could hopefully put his mind at ease.

He shuffled out of his bedroom, the bottoms of his sweats sliding across the hardwood as he lazily lumbered to Shinsou’s room down the hall. He pounded on the door violently, knowing full well that the fucker was still asleep. Katsuki paused to listen to the satisfying thump that was Hitoshi quite literally falling out of bed. It was time to fucking get up, and he was going to beat this door until his roommate answered.

“Oi!” He yelled, never relenting with his aggressive knocking, “You going to sleep the whole fucking day away, shitface?”

The door cracked open, Voldemort scuttling out and running between Katsuki’s legs and leaving them in the dust. Bakugou met one of Shinsou’s eyes and made note of his heavy lids and the blue circles underneath. He glared up at the blonde, slouched over from exhaustion.

Katsuki grinned.

“What the fuck do you want?” Shinsou grumbled.

“You’re a fucking asshole in the morning,” Bakugou cajoled, his smile all teeth and probably way too bright for Shinsou’s unadjusted eyes.

Hitoshi moved to close the door, but Katsuki stepped forward so that his foot stopped it.

Shinsou growled.

“Yesterday you were all shit eating grins and unrelenting sass,” The blonde continued to tease, fingers wrapping around the door and pushing forward, “You gotta reboot everyday or something?”

“I hate you.”

Katsuki pushed harder and the door reacted to the force acting upon it, letting more of the light from the hallway assault Shinsou’s eyes. Hitoshi squinted, his hand rising to simultaneously flip the blonde off and block the light from hitting his eyes.

“Tell me what you want, you asshole.”

“Let me borrow your motorcycle.”

“Fine,” Shinsou allowed, “Now leave me the fuck alone.”

Katsuki removed his foot from the door and it promptly slammed shut. Bakugou’s grin widened. This was why he and Shinsou got along so well as roommates.

Bakugou slunk to the kitchen, pausing to pet Voldemort behind the ears. He pulled out his phone after yanking his shoes on.

Bakugou 12:31 pm: Where am I meeting you?

While he waited for Ochako to send him the address, he stuffed his water bottle into his backpack and then slung it over his shoulders. Voldemort padded over to him and sat back on his haunches to mew up softly at the blonde. Katsuki rolled his eyes as he stooped down to pet the cat some more—Voldy was such a spoiled brat and it was all Shinsou’s fault.

Izuku and Ochako’s gift flashed through his mind and he snorted.

“You’re not the only spoiled rotten diva around here,” He muttered to the cat, scratching the top of his head, “The attention’s not bad, huh?” Voldemort nuzzled his head into Katsuki’s palm and his consistent purring reminded the blonde of an engine. “You fucking slut.”

His phone vibrated and he glanced down at it, his mind wrestling with itself to come to a decision.

“Fuck it,” He muttered, rising to his full height and wandering back into his room to put on that motherfucking watch so he could show it off to round cheeks.




Ochako had sent him the address to her and Deku’s hero agency—a building that wasn’t gaudy or flashy like some other hero agencies. It was relatively small—likely had some sort of training area and a section for offices—and yet it stood as a sentinel in this city. Anyone with the capability to know what a hero even was knew that this shitty location was their hero agency—Deku and Uravity’s claim over this city and its citizens was made in a two-story brick building and no one fussed about that because the two idiots did their job better than anyone else.

Katsuki parked Shinsou’s bike outside and sauntered through the door.

“Bakugou!” A familiar voice called from the front desk. Katsuki squinted his eyes, trying to place a name to the face—even if it was just one of his shitty nicknames. After a moment, he opened his mouth.

“Frog chick?”

Frog chick nodded, tilting her head to the side and resting an elongated finger on her mouth.

“It sure has been a while since I’ve seen you. You look happier than I remember.” She told him honestly. Katsuki’s brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to tell her off, but she continued speaking without noticing his frustration, “I saw your match yesterday. Congratulations on your win. You and Shinsou both did a great job!”

“You work with Deku and Uravity?” He inquired, crossing his arms over his chest and ignoring her compliment.

Frogger nodded, “Mostly with Uravity. Deku works by himself.” She quirked her head to the side again, eyes wide like always but Katsuki had the feeling that this chick was sizing him up. “What are you doing here, Bakugou?” She asked, “I don’t remember Uraraka requesting you as an intern.”

“Tch. She didn’t.”

“Kacchan!” Ochako’s voice sounded from down the hallway. Katsuki’s eyes shifted over to her—she was wearing basketball shorts that went down to her knees that looked suspiciously like they were fitted for Midoriya rather than herself and a black tank top that contrasted nicely with her creamy skin. Her hair was up, and Bakugou might have been drooling.

“How do you know Bakugou, Uraraka?”

“When we’re on the job, my name is Uravity, Tsuyu!”

“Then mine is Froppy, ribbit.”

This frog chick actually fucking ribbits?

Ochako chuckled, saddling up to Katsuki and hooking her elbow around his neck. “As for your question,” She laughed, “Deku met Kacchan at that beach park about a week ago and—”

“You’re both into him, aren’t you?”

Ochako sputtered, pulling away from Bakugou and stepping out of his personal space. Katsuki snorted and his scowl morphed into a grin that he directed towards Tsuyu. “You’re pretty blunt, Frogger,” He informed her, “I can respect that.”

Tsuyu shrugged, “I always say what’s on my mind.” Her gaze shifted to Ochako, “Don’t you think you’re a little old for Bakugou?”

Ochako, face red, puffed up her cheeks in offense, “No. I don’t think that.”

“He and I are the same age. Deku was one of my teachers,” Tsuyu continued, “I would have never guessed you and Deku to be so…”

“Perverse?” Katsuki suggested helpfully with a smug leer while Ochako waved her arms around wildly and insisted they were both wrong, “I think the word you’re looking for is perverse.”

Frog chick nodded and looked to be in some serious contemplation, “This kind of thing is to be expected of you, Bakugou, but not them.”

Katsuki shrugged, “I’m a fine piece of ass. Can’t really blame them. I would do me too.”

Ochako shrieked, turning to Tsuyu with a scandalized face, “It’s not like that!”

“It’s exactly like that,” said Bakugou.

Ochako smacked her palm over Katsuki’s mouth, soft hands scraping against his teeth. Grinning, he snuck his tongue out from between his lips and licked at her hand. She didn’t remove her hand because she was stubborn, but the blonde was pleased to see her cheeks darken ever further.

“Alright!” She interjected, flustered, “That’s enough from you two.” She tugged Katsuki towards the hallway. “I’m gonna kick your ass extra hard for that, you brat,” She told him, as she removed her hand from his mouth.

“Kinky,” He said, just loud enough for frogger to hear.

“Froppy, I’ll be back to make rounds with you at three! Get that paperwork done or I’ll whip your ass!” She opened the door to the training room, grabbed Katsuki by the hair and pushed him inside. The blonde chuckled, liking the way her small hand tugged at his hair and the way she forced him to stumble forward.

“You’re too easy to fuck with,” He told her, straightening himself out as the door clicked close behind them.

She got into a fighting stance, blush burning across her nose but with a murderous look in her eyes, “You have two seconds.”

Katsuki’s eyes widened and he scrambled to remove his backpack so that he could fight properly. By the time he’d removed it and tossed it away, fists raised to brawl, Uraraka’s thighs were wrapped around his neck and he was falling backwards. He hadn’t even seen her jump. The second his back hit the mat, she shifted so that she was sitting on his legs, one slender leg outstretched to incapacitate his left hand. She leaned down until their faces were inches apart and trailed one hand into his hair and the other towards the watch that he hadn’t had time to remove.

Katsuki groaned, “You’re a beast.”

“You’re wearing the watch,” She hummed, leaning down to give him an eskimo kiss.

Katsuki’s nose scrunched at the affection.

“At least give me a real fucking kiss,” He whined, straining to raise his neck so that he could meet her lips with his. But her hand in his hair held him down easily.

Her eyes twinkled as she removed her weight from off of Katsuki, “You want a real kiss?” She stood up, pulling him with her by the collar of his shirt, “Earn it.” She stooped down into another fighting stance and he was suddenly glad that he’d decided to wear looser fitting sweatpants because she was doing things to him.

This time when she rushed at him, he was ready.

And honest to god—it was exhilarating. Ochako was formidable. Years of experience and training have shaped her into the hero she is today. You can tell by the way she fights that she’s not afraid to abandon her quirk if she has to—and that thought made Katsuki gulp back the saliva suddenly pooling in his mouth.

This woman.

She was strong because she wanted to be strong.

After what felt like hours of blocking her attacks, if his screaming muscles were anything to go by (but in reality, it had only been about five minutes), Katsuki reeled his right hand back and sent it her direction. She spun around, his fist hitting thin air, and she glided her lithe body across his outstretched arm. Her knee came up to meet his stomach, and, when he doubled over, she elbowed him in the back. He fell to the ground once again.

She sat on his back.

“You’re fast, Kacchan,” She mused, “And it’s obvious that you know how to fight even without your quirk.” She grinned maniacally down at him and pinched his sides playfully. Katsuki yelped. “But I’m faster,” Ochako sang.

She yanked him to his feet again.

They continued on in this fashion—Bakugou rising to his feet in another vain attempt to land one measly hit on her only to be knocked to his knees or his ass or face first into the mat—until Katsuki fell onto his knees, panting and exhausted and without the strength to get back up.

Uraraka examined her nails, “Done already?”

“I should fucking intern with you, goddammit,” He muttered between pants, shifting so that he was sitting and leaning back on his arms, “Fuck Deku.”

“I am the better fighter between the two of us,” She agreed, “I always kick his ass when we spar without our quirks. When we are using our quirks, I still manage to pin him half the time.”

Katsuki suddenly imagined Deku on his ass right next to him, panting and beaten, the both of them looking up at Ochako—powerful, undeterred, graceful, victorious, and not breaking a sweat after having flipped them both onto their backs. The idea was alluring to Katsuki, and he’d bet that the idea would be just as alluring to green bean.

“No fucking way,” Katsuki breathed, eyes wide and full of reverence.

Ochako giggled, outstretching a hand to Bakugou. “Want to get food, Kacchan?” She asked sweetly, head quirked to the side. He extended his hand to accept help to his feet, but she just grabbed his right hand to find the time on his watch. Bakugou rather liked the way she manhandled him. He also really liked the way her eyes seemed to be attached to his wrist where their gift sat jubilant and loud. “It’s a little late for lunch, but I’m starving.”

“Hah?” He inquired, tugging her down to his level and crowding into her space, “You promised me some lip lock.”

“And you promised Izuku you’d be a good boy for me,” She parried, turning her face away from his insistent lips, “But you come into my agency and tease me to near combustion.”

“I didn’t promise Deku jack shit.”

She sighed dramatically, “Well, at least I had the satisfaction of repeatedly sending you down on your ass. Okay. Fine.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes and captured her lips.

They made out on the mats, sweaty and eager and hands wandering boldly until Ochako’s stomach growled like a motherfucking bear and killed the mood.




Katsuki and Ochako hit up a McDonalds.

“You know,” Katsuki said dryly, eyeing his burger that already had one large bite taken out of it, “Having not only one sugar daddy but two, I imagined myself being treated to something a little more glamorous than McDonalds.”

Ochako pouted, “Kacchaaaan. We’re on a time crunch.”

Bakugou chuckled, throwing a french fry at her face, “I’m fucking with you, angel face. I don’t actually care.”

Ochako leaned back with her soft drink, and Katsuki felt one of her long legs slide in between his. She beamed at him. “Kacchan,” She said, “I’m really glad that Deku and I met you. One day we’ll take you out somewhere really fancy—you’d probably look good in suit…like really good—and I know you just said you don’t care. But we care. About you. And we like to give you nice things. If we find an opportunity to help you, we want to take it. You’re ours now, i-if you want to be.”

Katsuki scowled, “Despite my better judgment, I really do want to belong to you two nerds. I just wish I could return the fucking favor.”

Ochako shook her head, munching on a couple of fries, “You don’t need to repay us. You also don’t need to feel like you have to fuck us just because you owe us. You don’t owe us anything. If you decide you want that from us then it should be for no other reason than that you like us enough to get that intimate.”

“Where the fuck is all this coming from?” Katsuki mumbled, a dusting of red on his cheeks.

Ochako shrugged, “I just want you to know that we think you’re amazing.”

Bakugou snorted self-deprecatingly, but couldn’t stop the warm feeling invading his chest and making his thoughts hazy at her words, “Then why do I always feel like shit?"

“Hmm,” She started seriously, leaning forward and invading Katsuki’s space, “Is it because you’re afraid that other’s are looking down at you?” She reached across the table and held onto his hand, squeezing it gently, “No one’s perfect, you know. Not even Deku. And when I first met him I was convinced he was perfect. Even though he was quirkless.”

“You both seem pretty fucking perfect to me.”

“Trust me,” she said, smiling, “We’re far from it.”

“Whatever you say, daddy.”

Katsuki grinned at her flustered blush.




They had a little time before she had to go back to her agency, so Katsuki drove them aimlessly throughout the city on Shinsou’s motorcycle until ten to the hour. She hopped off, gave him a kiss, and skipped inside to return to work.

Bakugou had a little bit of time before he had to be at his apartment to get ready for work and so he decided he would stop by the beach park. What he was going to do there, he wasn’t sure. For once in his life he was void of any pent up anger and couldn’t quite see how blowing shit up would relieve his feelings of confused inferiority. Self-reflection was an option—something he hated doing, but something that Aizawa had suggested he do to overcome all of his problems.

As loathe as he is to admit, the old fucker hadn’t been wrong about what’s good for him so far.

Expelling him from U.A. was probably the best thing anyone has ever done for the blonde.

He pulled up to the parking lot on the outskirts of the sand and parked. He trudged to the pier, picking up flattened rocks on his way to skip on the water. The waves were tame right now and Katsuki snorted at the irony. He felt kind of like this beach—worthless because of the shit polluting it and angry like how the waves usually were, the violent crashes of the water only bringing in more shit to ruin what once was beautiful. But just like these stupid waves that were calmly lapping at the shore, something inside of him had shifted and he felt like he finally had his hands securely wrapped around the reigns that controlled his temper.

“Are you Bakugou Katsuki?” A voice chirped excitedly from behind him as he skipped a rock across the water.

He turned around, eyebrow quirked at the girl standing in front of him. She was dressed in casual clothes, a big ass scarf covering half of her face and Bakugou couldn’t help but feel like he knew her from somewhere. But as he’s stated before: there were too many fucking extras in his life to keep track of them all. He eyed her up and down, wondering what the fuck some blonde girl would be doing at this shit-infested beach, “Who the fuck wants to know?”

She smiled, and Katsuki caught a flash of sharp fangs in her otherwise normal leer.

“I saw you on television,” She exclaimed excitedly. Her smile was seriously creeping the blonde out. “I’m a big fan of you and your explosions.”

“Rightfully so,” He retorted, unimpressed. He nodded at the beach and the heaps of garbage surrounding them, “What the fuck brings you to a shitty place like this?”

She giggled, and the sound rubbed him the wrong way. “I could ask you the same thing, Bakugou.”

“I come here to blow shit up,” He explained bluntly, “And to think. Today I’m thinking. So if you’d shut the fuck up and leave, that would be fantastic.” He turned his back to her, but kept an eye on her in his peripherals as his mind tried to sift through where exactly he recognized this bitch from.

“You know,” She says in a pouty voice, “When I say I saw you on television, I’m not just talking about yesterday’s match at your school…”

He really shouldn’t keep talking to her, but his curiosity was outweighing his gut.

“The only other fucking time I’ve been on television was—”

“Five years ago, at U.A.’s sports festival,” She finished for him, looking positively giddy, “Have you gotten control of that anger from back then, Bakugou? It sure seems like it.”

Bakugou turned back around, fists clenched but still under control.

He squinted at her, the dots finally connecting.

“You were at The Bar yesterday,” He accused, recognizing her as the flirty creep who gave him the shit tip, “Are you fucking following me?”

“Yep!” She admitted, “The boss has his eye on you!”

“The fucking boss of what?!”

“The Villain Alliance, duh.”

“That shitty villain boy band?”

Her bottom lip jutted out in a pout, her eyebrows pulled down in a threatening glare that still somehow looked sadistically playful, “It’s not a shitty villain boy band. We’re going to destroy the way the world views heroes. And with power like yours, you’d help our ideals spread like wildfire! Someone as ambitious as you would surely want to be a part of something so inevitable!”

“The fuck?” Katsuki was seriously at a loss. These morons thought he’d actually side with them?

Her grin widened and Bakugou saw her twirling a knife in her hand.

“From what I hear, you know Deku,” She sighed, eyes closed in her daydream like a moron and Katsuki used this opportunity to send his location to Izuku and Ochako. He held his phone inside of his pocket, hoping to God that it sent. He glanced around the beach, suddenly getting the vibe that this chick wasn’t alone. “Now he’s a hero! What I wouldn’t give to see him completely wrecked and at our mercy! I wonder what he looks like underneath that mask! I bet he’s adorable!” Her eyes glinted mischievously, “You know, right Katsuki? Will you tell me?”

“Fuck no,” He barked, letting his phone drop into his pocket and getting into a fighting stance.

She laughed and the sound was so annoying that it was beginning to grate at his patience, just like the rest of this shitty situation.

“So you are close to Deku?” She sang, “Lucky you.” She inhaled hard and short through her nose and then let it out, face reverting to something serious. “Well, I need to know, Katsuki. Are you in or are you out?”

“I’m out,” Katsuki snarled immediately, eyeing something up the cliffside that put him a little more at ease, “Asshole.”

She took a step forward, and he had an explosion lying in wait—just in case—but one second the pier was empty except for the two of them. Then, in a flash of lightning Deku was standing in between vampire freak and Katsuki, energy burning around him and fists raised.

“Deku!” Blonde chick exclaimed, bouncing on her feet in excitement, “I’m so glad you’re here!"

“I’m not,” A deeper voice proclaimed from behind a pile of rubble. A man with black hair and what looked like purple skin sewn onto his body stepped forward, grabbing the blonde girl by the elbow, “We don’t stand a chance against Deku. Let’s get out of here.” She didn’t budge, only waved more enthusiastically at Deku.

“Do you remember me, Deku?” She cried happily, “I’m Toga Himiko! Do you remember?”

“What the hell are you two doing?” Deku barked, ignoring Toga’s advancements.

The black haired man smirked, “Trying to make a deal with Bakugou here.” He tugged on Toga’s arm again, this time successfully pulling her back a bit. Purple mist erupted out of thin air at the same time that Deku lunged forward. Katsuki stared in awe—he was so fast! There was no way those two fuckers were going to get away!

But Deku was grabbing at thin air.

He yanked off his cowl, and Katsuki has never seen a look quite that murderous on Izuku’s face before.

“Er,” Katsuki started awkwardly, eyeing the energy that looked so much like lightning emanating from his body and wondering where the fuck that power came from if the nerd wasn’t born with it, “Sorry if I messed up your lead? But those fuckers have been following me apparently. For how long? Who the fuck knows.”

Deku shook his head, features softening somewhat when he turned to look at Katsuki.

“Those actually are the two fuckers I’ve been trying to get the jump on all day,” He explained, and then continued more seriously: “I had no idea they were following you—what could they possibly—”

“They thought I’d might want to shack up with them and their stupid Alliance,” Katsuki interrupted before Midoriya started muttering to himself, “As if I’d ever join a band of losers.”

Deku stepped forward, energy fading back into the normal glow that his bright presence radiates by itself. He grabbed Katsuki’s hand and pulled him away from the dock.

“You shouldn’t return to your apartment, Kacchan,” Izuku told him, “If they’ve been following you, it’s likely that they know where you live.”

Katsuki wanted to scoff, wanted to tell the idiot that he could take care of himself—but, staring at Deku’s strong hands and his protective arms, he knew that the nerd was right. “Where the hell should I go?” He huffed, yanking his hand away from Izuku so that he could cross his arms over his chest.

“You can stay with us,” Deku suggested, hand coming up to his chin in thought.

“What about my fucking roommate?”

“Shinsou can stay with us too,” Izuku responded, looking kind of excited at the prospect of seeing his former student.

“Oh,” Katsuki started, already getting a headache from all the teasing Hitoshi was going to throw his way, “Hell no.”

“It’s the safest place to be, Kacchan,” Izuku insisted.

Katsuki could feel the vein at his temple throbbing in annoyance.

“I’ll ride with you on the back of your bike,” Deku continued, ignoring Bakugou’s look of horror, “We’ll explain the situation to Shinsou, you’ll gather enough of your things, and we’ll be on our way safe and sound! This normally isn’t my solution to villain stalkers for obvious reasons, but the Villain Alliance is very dangerous. And hard to peg down thanks to that warp quirk. If there were a better answer, I’d offer you anything. But this is all I can think of and—”

“Fine!” Katsuki barked, throwing his hands up into the air. That sentence would be stuck in his head for days, weeks, months. ‘I’d offer you anything.’ Who does shitty Deku think he is throwing around promises like that—that simple assurance was setting off atomic fucking bombs in his heart. But instead of voicing these feelings to the hero before him, he instead growled out an aggressive, “Whatever! Let’s do it! Protect me like I’m some helpless child, fucking Deku! Shinsou has a motherfucking cat, by the way. Hope you’re allergic!”

“I love cats!” Deku exclaimed, smiling.

“Of course you fucking do.”

Chapter Text

P U T  T H E  M E A T  O N  M Y  B O N E S

C H A P T E R  S E V E N

-we’re rising, we’re falling-

Deku pulled his hood back on and contacted Uravity before they sped off on Shinsou’s bike, telling her to survey the perimeter around Katsuki’s apartment to ensure they weren’t watched or followed. Bakugou honestly couldn’t believe that this was happening—from what he’d gathered from vampire bitch’s loose tongue was that this Alliance had their eye on him for a while now. Why? Probably because he was a quick-tempered piece of shit. But did the fucks honestly believe he’d come with them willingly? Ha.

Izuku kept his arms wound tightly around Katsuki’s waist as the blonde drove the short distance to his apartment and the soft pressure of the nerd’s chin resting on his shoulder helped ebb some of the blonde’s anger away.

When Katsuki pulled up to his apartment, Midoriya held him back from walking inside with an outstretched arm. Tapping his earpiece, he spoke to Ochako.

“All clear, Uravity?” He inquired.

Bakugou assumed Ochako responded affirmatively, because Deku retracted his hand and followed him to his doorstep. The blonde pulled out his keys, for once not giving a shit about the mail, and unlocked the door. He cracked it open, peering inside cautiously. He’s not exactly sure what he expected to see—upturned furniture, blood, holes in the wall—so he breathed a sigh of relief when he found the place exactly as he left it.

“Hitoshi!” Bakugou yelled from the living room, “Get your ass out here right now! And for god’s sake, if you’re in your underwear put some fucking clothes on. We got company!”

Shinsou’s door cracked open and Voldemort skittered out, making a beeline to Midoriya who stooped down, pulling off his cowl, to offer his palm to the cat hopefully.

“Company?” Shinsou’s voice drew closer as he walked down the hallways towards where Izuku and Katsuki were at, “You’re kidding—you’re not kidding.” He stopped abruptly when his eyes landed on Izuku, who Voldemort had accepted and was allowing to scratch behind his ears. Shinsou hadn’t heeded Bakugou’s warning, and was wearing nothing but his boxers. Well, at least they weren’t his Deku boxers.

“Midoriya-sensei?” Shinsou shrieked, wrapping his arms around his torso in an attempt to cover his nakedness, “What are you doing here?” His eyes flitted from Katsuki to Izuku to the watch on Katsuki’s wrist and back up to Bakugou again and, yeah, the blonde definitely felt that headache creeping up. The purple haired fucker gaped at his roommate, “No way.”

“What’s that look for, shitface?” Katsuki inquired, playing dumb.

Deku was the one that tipped you?” He replied, voice breathy like he really couldn’t believe his own words, “Deku?!”

“Deku is the motherfucking number one hero,” Katsuki stated, “You really think he’s got time to hit up college bars?”

“You’re not denying it,” Shinsou groaned with wide eyes.

“Ah,” Izuku piped up, rising to his full height and smiling at Shinsou sheepishly, “It’s good to see you again, Shinsou! I wish we could reconnect under better circumstances, but unfortunately I’m here on hero business. A dangerous group of villains likely know that you and Katsuki live here and, seeing as they’ve made their move on Katsuki, neither of you are safe here.”

“Made their move on Katsuki?” Shinsou repeated, and then he turned to Bakugou with narrowed eyes, “Were you fucking attacked? Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Because it literally happened like ten minutes ago!”

Shinsou’s shoulders sagged, “Please tell me that Deku just happened to be there and this is the first time you’ve ever met him.”

Bakugou’s answering grin was shark-like and lethal, “Now that would be a lie, now wouldn’t it?”

“Oh my god,” said Shinsou, “You’re fucking my idol.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes.

“Relax, dipshit,” He barked with a sneer, “I’m not fucking them. Yet.”



Izuku sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “This is so not what we came here to talk about. Both of you,” He snapped, making both boys reflexively stand to attention, “Pack up as much as you can. Ochako will be here shortly with a car.”

Bakugou and Shinsou nodded, turning away from Deku to head to their rooms to pack, but a hand on his elbow stopped Katsuki.

“Kacchan,” Izuku started, “Can I borrow some clothes? Also, I’m starving. Is it okay if I raid your pantry?”

“You’re the worst fucking sugar daddy I’ve ever met,” Katsuki muttered, shrugging Izuku’s arm off of him and raging his way over to his room, “Go ahead.”

“Sugar daddy?!” Shinsou shrieked from just outside of his bedroom.

“Fucking focus on the issue at hand, Shinsou!” Katsuki barked at his roommate, rolling his eyes for what felt like the millionth time today. When he burst through the threshold of his room and slammed the door behind him, he fell against the wall—muscles aching from the day’s excursions, thoughts reeling from the incident at the beach, soul standing strong and unbreakable like he remembered feeling when he was fifteen fucking years old.

He was Bakugou Katsuki, and no amount of shitty villains or anger management issues or judgmental fucks would be able to crack his resolve to be a motherfucking hero.

But god was he tired.

Tired of being labeled as a villain, tired of being weak, tired of one thing after another blowing up in his face.

He sighed, allowing some of his frustrations to leave his body, but still feeling incredibly antsy. Then he grabbed his duffle bag and started shoving clothing into it. When he retreated from his bedroom with a change of clothing for Deku, the bastard was finishing off some leftovers from the previous night.

“Nugghhh,” He said through a spoonful of pasta. Then he swallowed so that he could continue more articulately, “I have this theory that your cooking could cure all forms and levels of depression, Kacchan.” He moaned around another bite of food, and Katsuki threw the clothing in his face—got to watch in satisfaction as the hero scrambled to not let the fabric fall into his dinner.

“I swear to god,” Bakugou grumbled, “If I see a forum dedicated to that shit under the pseudo name deku-no1badboi on the internet, I’ll blow your head off.”

Izuku laughed.

“That’s ridiculous, Kacchan,” He said, smirking, “My pseudo name is no near that pompous. It’s actually uravity-pls-step-on-me and the forum already has close to a thousand subscribers so I guess you’ll just have to blow my head off. Well…” His grin reminded Katsuki of a lion, “You could try.”

Midoriya winked. Katsuki stared at the man with a gaping mouth, for once in his life struck completely speechless. His prediction from earlier today—that Deku would be as turned on by Uraraka’s dominance and strength as he was—was confirmed in a flippant comment that the bastard probably didn’t even think through before sharing. Rather than coming up with a half-assed response, Bakugou slunk into the bathroom to retrieve his toiletries with red ears, nearly running into Hitoshi.

Kacchan?” The sleepy-eyed fuck whispered, horrified and now wearing clothes.

Katsuki shouldered through him and threw his duffle bag onto the bathroom counter.

Shinsou followed him like an annoying dog yapping and seeking attention.

“You let him be all cutesy with you?” The fuck continued, voice low so Midoriya wouldn’t have a chance of picking up on their conversation, “And you’re completely chill with that?”

Katsuki snorted self-deprecatingly, throwing his elbow out onto the counter and leaning his weight onto it to level his roommate with his most deadpan stare.

“Which is worse, sleepy?” He inquired, only sort of making an effort to conceal his annoyance, “That he wants to fuck me? Or that I’m actually into his angel-eyed antics? Or do both make you want to burn all of your Deku memorabilia and find a new hero to worship?” His words were becoming more heated with every enunciation leaving his mouth, “Am I shattering the pure and virtuous image you had of Deku in your head?” His lips twitched up into a sneer, “What’s so bad about me, huh? Am I so shitty that being involved with me is morally ambiguous at best? Fuck you and the fucking horse you rode in on you fucking dogmatic piece of—”

“Enough,” Izuku cut in, walking over to them from his place in the kitchen, squeezing past Shinsou so he could stand between the both of them. He turned to Bakugou with a serious expression, and, honestly, Katsuki didn’t need to see disappointment coming from the freckled man—the hero that was soft like a blanket warmed from body heat and yet hard enough that he could create craters by throwing bodies. He flicked his eyes away from Izuku’s gaze, finding interest in his shoes.

Those green eyes were making him feel overbearingly petty—this whole time he hasn’t given a damn about any comments made about him and the nerds. He was just frustrated about a band of villains actually thinking it was a good idea to recruit him, and Shinsou was there to take that frustration out on and perhaps had used a tone that might of rubbed Bakugou the wrong way (but certainly didn’t justify his aggressive response).

“Katsuki,” Izuku scolded, “You know that’s not what Shinsou means. Stop putting words in his mouth.” He tipped Bakugou’s chin up, demanding his attention—demanding for Katsuki to acknowledge his words. Katsuki met his eyes again and felt suddenly like he still didn’t know a thing about the world or other people—like he was back to fifteen—and forced himself to nod. Izuku turned to Hitoshi next, “Shinsou,” He said, “Perhaps now’s not the best time to pester Katsuki about this? And when you do, perhaps try to not sound so affronted?” He raised an eyebrow at the boy, seeking a response.

“Yes sir,” Hitoshi responded, eyes glancing to the left and meeting Katsuki’s gaze in the mirror, “Just a little shocked, I guess. M’sorry, by the way.” Voldemort scurried over to the three of them, rubbing up against Shinsou’s legs as if to comfort him.

Katsuki grunted, “Yeah. Me too—sorry.”

Izuku beamed at them, then left the two of them to finish packing. He asked Katsuki if it was okay for him to change in his bedroom, and Bakugou told him that he could do whatever the fuck he wanted as he shoved his toothbrush into the depths of his duffle bag. He and Shinsou silently got to work packing up the rest of their toiletries, and Bakugou was pleasantly surprised at how much tension left his body by simply saying sorry.

It occurred to Katsuki that, even though he and Shinsou would be shacking up with Deku and Uravity for who knows how long, they still needed to go to their jobs and classes and practice. He’s positive that Izuku and Ochako have thought through the logistics of how the hell that’s supposed to even work—if there were villains on their tail, it wouldn’t exactly be smart to let them stalk the two of them all the way to Deku’s home—and he could probably guess at what their stupid heroic brains have cooked up. It probably involved the nerds escorting them around like children. Which sounded fucking over the top and annoying.

Just as he was zipping up his duffle bag, Izuku cracked open his bedroom door.

“Kacchan?” He asked, “Do you have a belt? Your pants are kind of…baggy.”

Katsuki pushed through the door, clicking it shut behind him. He raised an eyebrow at Midoriya, who was holding up the pants by bunching them on one side of his hips into his left hand. He was also hella shirtless. And hella nice to look at. Bakugou’s perceptive, so he’s not quite sure how he hasn’t noticed the scars littering Izuku’s hand, scars that ran up and down the nerd’s entire left arm like the limb had been shredded several times on different occasions. His eyes were drawn to those scars, like a fucking piece of art pulling his eyes up and down until they locked onto his clavicle and traveled over the smooth expanse of Izuku’s chest and downward.

Katsuki registered the sound of someone knocking on the front door, of Ochako’s muffled voice announcing her arrival, of Shinsou yelling to them that he’ll grab the door, but still continued to stare like there wasn’t a billion things going on right now.

Izuku cleared his throat.


Katsuki’s eyes travelled up his throat and landed on his lips. Izuku was smiling.


Bakugou snapped out of it, glancing away from Izuku with a dusting of red spread across his face.

“Right,” He sauntered over to the closet and dug around for a belt that would hopefully fit Izuku. He found one from his days in high school and chucked it at the other man. Green bean caught it easily, sliding it through the belt loops and tightening it around his waist. He looked fucking ridiculous, in Katsuki’s opinion, especially when he slipped the shirt on only to discover that it was also too big

Izuku walked over to the mirror and laughed.

“I look like—” He stopped himself short, glancing away from his reflection. Humming to himself, he picked up the picture Katsuki had nicked from his parent’s house. The bastard smiled down at it warmly, and Katsuki could feel his chest tightening at the sight, “Uh, this guy I know.”

“You look absurd,” Katsuki declared, “And you know someone who actually dresses like that?”

“Well,” Izuku began, setting down the picture and looking very much like his head was in the clouds and like he was going to fanboy any second now. But, despite the look on his face that said he was eager to begin a discourse on whoever the fuck he was thinking of, all he said was: “His clothes are more tailored these days.”

He walked over to the pile of textbooks, stooped down, and picked them up like it was nothing. He balanced them on one hand with all the ease a waitress would have balancing a tray of food. “Anyways,” He said, opening the door to the room with his other hand, “Let’s make sure you and Shinsou have everything you need to do your schoolwork.”

“Already on it, babe!” Ochako announced from the hallway, blowing Izuku a kiss as she passed him. She was also wearing civilians clothing, the preppy cute ass shit that didn’t suit her personality at all. Katsuki was one thousand percent sure that the shitty way they dressed was supposed to be their way of disguising their real power, but it still kind of pissed him off that whatever secret Deku was guarding made the mantle of hero bleed into every aspect of their lives.

Shinsou followed behind her closely to show her where all his school stuff was placed.

Izuku moved to walk out of the bedroom, but Katsuki caught him by the forearm.

“Hey,” Bakugou said low, picking the yellowed article Izuku had given him out of his pocket and slipping it into Izuku’s, “You gonna explain that to me tonight?”

Izuku side-eyed Shinsou’s room, and sighed.

“I can’t…” He answered, “Not with Shinsou around. He was one of my first students, so he already knows that I’m Deku but that’s all he knows. And unfortunately it’s a secret that I can only share with a few. Do you work tomorrow?”

Katsuki shook his head, honest to god confused, and let go of Izuku’s arm.

“Meet me at my agency tomorrow when you get out of classes,” Midoriya decided, and then walked into the living room to wait patiently for Ochako to follow him with Shinsou’s things. She was there a moment later with Shinsou, using her quirk to balance a stack of textbooks not unlike Deku—god was that hot—and Bakugou was scrambling to pick up his laptop from his bed and stuff it in his backpack.

“Wait a second!” He called to them, power walking into the living room and watching Deku greet his girlfriend with a kiss, “You’re not going to escort us everywhere until you get rid of these band of losers?”

Ochako raised an eyebrow at him, “Do you want us to?”

“Fuck no.”

“Didn’t think so. You’re smart, Kacchan,” She complimented, “So’s Shinsou. We trust your instincts—especially now that the both of you know you’re being watched. If you feel like something is off, call one of us. Or your friends. Otherwise, go about your day normally.”

“Just make sure you’re not being followed on the way back to our apartment,” Izuku agreed, “And we should all be okay.”

“But,” Ochako smirked, “Even if they do manage to find where we live, it would just be better for us. We’ve been trying to find them for a while now—we’d kick their asses.”

“But I doubt they’d attack us in our own home. They’re not going to hurt either one of you while you’re under our protection,” Izuku clenched his free hand, and that lightning-esque power emanated up his forearm and around his fist as if he were challenging the not present villains to even try catching him off guard.

“Aren’t you worried that they’ll figure out your secret identity?” Shinsou inquired, picking up Voldemort and tucking the cat underneath shoulder.

Izuku shook his head, “I’m positive that some of them already know.”

“What the fuck?” Bakugou piped in, picking up his duffle bag, “How?”

Izuku scratched his head sheepishly, glancing to Ochako as she opened the front door, “Uhh…” He chuckled nervously, when she just shrugged and walked Shinsou’s things out to the car. The boys followed behind her. “Well back when I was an underground hero, I didn’t exactly broadcast my identity but I didn’t really keep it a secret either…”

“How long have you been dealing with these fuckers?”

“Longer than I’ve even been ranked at number one, unfortunately,” He responded, “And they’re always recruiting and it’s a huge headache. I’ll have to go in depth about all members we know of and what their quirks are so you can be on the look out. Toga’s is annoying, for one thing—if she ingests your blood she can morph her appearance into yours. The more blood, the longer she can stay in that form.”

“What the fuck,” Shinsou whispered.

Ochako shrugged.

They stacked everything into Ochako’s tiny ass car—honestly why did she even have a motherfucking bug? It was a little difficult because the trunk space was nothing, and it was one of those cars where you pull the seats forward to hop in the back. But, between the four of them, they managed and by the time all their things were stacked in the backseat, there were only three seats available.

“I call getting to sit on Kacchan’s lap!” Ochako exclaimed, excited.

“Whatever,” He muttered, turning to Shinsou, “You got everything you need?”

Shinsou nodded, pulling Voldemort into his chest and climbing into the passenger seat. Izuku pulled the driver’s seat forward so Katsuki and Ochako could climb into the back. Ochako made herself at home on his lap, and the blonde wrapped his arms around her waist to seek comfort from her warmth. As discreetly as possible, she placed one of her small hands over his and her other hand she placed on the headrest in front of her.

Deku drove like a fucking grandpa, which was actually fucking hilarious, and he insisted it was because they had Froppy scouting their route out for potential threats, but Bakugou refused to hold back his teasing despite his half assed excuse. Ochako laughing along with him was an added bonus, and Katsuki could finally feel his body relaxing after this long ass day.




When Katsuki and Shinsou got settled at Izuku and Ochako’s apartment, the couple left to meet with other pro heroes about the situation. The told them that if there was somewhere safer for them to say, they’d be moved their immediately. But Katsuki couldn’t really imagine anywhere safer than under Deku and Uravity’s protection. But honestly, he sometimes wished for a hero license, a provisional license, anything, so that he could throw his own fists up and defend himself by his own power.

Bakugou glanced at Shinsou from the other end of the couch. He looked more tired than usual, and was staring off into space, obviously deep in thought. He petted his hand down Voldemort’s spine absentmindedly, and Katsuki knew with certainty that Hitoshi felt the same way—that if it weren’t for his quirk that held him back from joining the hero course at U.A., he’d be able to be of more use now rather than a stumbling block.

They were both in their pajamas. Katsuki was determined to sleep on the floor so that the fucker could get some good sleep for once in his life. Ochako had brought out a large stack of blankets and pillows for them before they left, and Bakugou went to work laying out comforters for his makeshift bed.

“Bakugou,” Shinsou said quietly, eyes still partially glazed over.

“What,” Katsuki responded, fluffing a pillow to perfection and laying down on it experimentally.

“They’re good for you.”

“Hah?” Bakugou glared at his nosy roommate, face red, “This isn’t a slumber party, shithead. We’re not talking about out our crushes like we’re teenaged girls. Fuck. Are you serious right now?”

“I am serious,” Shinsou insisted, a small smile on his lips, “You’ve only known them for, what? A week? And they’ve already had a huge impact on you. Having someone in your life like that doesn’t just erase all your problems, but I can tell that they know exactly what to do to help you help yourself. And I’m happy for you.” His lip curled up in distaste as something occurred to him, “Just please don’t have sex with them while I’m here. I don’t care how much they help you; if I’m subjected to hearing that, I’ll probably explode. And then who would take care of Voldemort?”

Katsuki threw a pillow at his roommate’s face, making Voldemort jump out of Shinsou’s arms. The cat ran to Katsuki, curling up next to the blonde and purring when Bakugou started kneading his neck with his fingers.

“They’re taking things slow,” Bakugou assured Shinsou, “For my sake, I’m pretty sure.”

“They want to jump your bones.”


“Have you not noticed?” Shinsou’s voice had that annoying tilt to it that told Katsuki that the fucker was smirking, “They undress you with their eyes. If they weren’t such nice, considerate people, I’m sure you’d be sleeping in their bed now and not on the floor of their living room.”

Katsuki thought back to when he’d first met Izuku at the beach and how the bastard had ogled him without any shame, thought of when the both of them crowded him against their counter—yeah, he’d noticed.

“Why are we talking about this?” He groaned, grabbing Voldemort and moving him to him to his other side so that he could turn his back on Shinsou and continue to pet the cat.

“Because you want to jump their bones too,” Shinsou suggested, “Why haven’t you?”

Katsuki glared at the entertainment station.

He knew the answer to Shinsou’s question, but no way in hell was he going to open up to the bastard about all of this sappy shit. The truth was, he was afraid that once they crossed that line he’d wouldn’t be able to differentiate between being intimate because he wanted to and using his body to pay them back for everything they’ve done. This wasn’t a problem to Katsuki at first. He’d even told Kirishima outright that his intention was to pay them back the only way he knew how.

But Ochako and Izuku had made it abundantly clear that Katsuki didn’t need to do that. That there were other ways for Katsuki to bring them happiness—and just being himself with them was one of those ways. That small sliver of knowledge had made Bakugou feel like he was soaring inside.

So he accepted their kindness because it felt nice to know that he could make someone feel good instead of bad.

He refused to backtrack.

“Like I’d tell you,” He muttered, pressing his nose into Voldemort’s neck. Voldy peeked an eye open at the contact, then closed it again to doze off.

Bakugou followed Voldemort’s lead and went to sleep.

Chapter Text

P U T  T H E  M E A T  O N  M Y  B O N E S

C H A P T E R  E I G H T

-no, i’ll never come back down-

It was weird, waking up the next morning to the smell of bacon sizzling on a pan—to soft voices whispering to one another in respect to the visitors bumming it in the living room. Katsuki felt Voldemort’s lithe, fuzzy body press and slide across his exposed neck, and Bakugou raised his head off the pillow to try and sneak a glance at Ochako and Izuku.

Ochako was wearing a tank top and tiny workout shorts that reminded Katsuki that he very much has the desire of burying his face between those sturdy thighs. She was staring into the fridge, one hand grasping the door and the other holding onto a whisk settled on her hip. The bar blocked off Deku’s lower half, but Katsuki was almost positive that the nerd was wearing baggy All Might pajama pants to match his oversized All Might shirt. His green curls were laying flat from where he slept and the light catching on the ends of his hair rightfully looked like a halo. He was standing at the stove, flipping bacon lazily and laughing gently at Ochako’s occasional commentary.

Bakugou’s attention returned to Ochako—specifically, her ass—as she stooped down to retrieve the eggs and milk from the fridge. His eyes followed her form as she joined Izuku at the stove, and placed the ingredients on the counter so she could wrap Deku up in her arms from behind.

A snicker from his right tore his gaze away from the couple in the kitchen. Voldemort had jumped up onto the couch to lay next to Shinsou, who had a hand stuffed into his mouth to stave off his laughter. Katsuki’s lips drew down into a frown and his eyebrows knit together. Feeling his features tighten from such a relaxed state was something foreign to the blonde, and that’s when he realized that he’d been smiling. One of those soft, warm smiles that were Izuku and Ochako’s specialty.

“What are you laughing at?” He murmured to his roommate, using his middle finger to wipe his eyes while simultaneously flipping the bastard off, “Don’t you realize that it’s the morning? You’ve got nothing to be happy about.”

“Usually, you’re correct,” Shinsou agreed, voice hoarse from sleep, “But I actually got some sleep last night, and teasing you is too funny.”

Ochako’s fucking heavy footfalls drew their attention, and the brunette dived between the couch and Katsuki’s body. “Good morning!” She sang, propping her head up on her hands and kicking her feet into the air. Katsuki rolled over onto his stomach, unconsciously mirroring her. “We have to go into work in like an hour. You guys want pancakes?” She glanced back and forth between Bakugou and Shinsou.

“Katsuki would love your pancakes,” Hitoshi declared suggestively.

“I would love for you to starve, asshole,” Bakugou growled, face red.

“He was eyeing up your pancakes a couple of minutes ago,” Hitoshi continued, ignoring Katsuki’s comment and his steaming hands that were probably going to strangle him.

Ochako’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, “We haven’t made any yet, though.”

“He’s talking about your ass, babe,” Izuku intoned loudly from the stove, “Kacchan was checking out your ass.”

Ochako’s eyes widened and a flush sprinkled across her nose cutely. Shinsou laughed, ducking lackadaisically when Katsuki chucked his pillow at his face. The bastard smiled at Ochako politely, “I would love some breakfast, thank you!” Hitoshi pushed himself up, flung the blanket off of his lap, stood up, stretched, then made his way to the bathroom.

Katsuki made sure the door clicked shut before tugging on Ochako’s hair gently.

“C’mere, angel,” He said, pulling her into a kiss by the neck—morning breath be damned.

Ochako giggled against his lips and pulled back a centimeter, “Were you really checking out my ass, Kacchan?”

Katsuki growled, looking anywhere but her big ass eyes, “It’s cute as hell.”

“What about Izuku’s ass?”

Katsuki snorted, “If he were wearing those shorts you’ve got on right now, we’d both be a drooling mess.”

“I’m a drooling mess just thinking about it,” She admitted, eyes glazed over.

“Stop flirting with me when I’m all the way over here!” Izuku complained from the kitchen, turning off the stove and patting down the plate of bacon with a paper towel, “Ochaaaako. You’re supposed to be making the eggs, not making out with Kacchan!”

Ochako laughed, pushing herself up to her feet and tugging Katsuki with her.

“Will you make the pancakes, Kacchan?” She asked, feeling up his bicep as they walked into the kitchen to meet Izuku. Izuku leaned up a hair to steal a kiss from Katsuki—he tasted like bacon and coffee, and Katsuki wasn’t sure how either one of them could stand kissing him when he still hasn’t brushed his teeth.

Katsuki pulled away from Izuku with a loud pop, and smirked at the pair of them. “I’ll make the best damn pancakes you’ve ever had,” He professed, strolling past Midoriya to raid through their cupboards. Izuku helpfully pulled out the pancake mix while Ochako pulled out the skillet. She happily got to work on the eggs while Katsuki got to work on the pancakes. Izuku watched them from behind the bar, sipping at his coffee and smiling warmly at them.

Shinsou returned from the bathroom, got his own mug of coffee, joined Izuku at the bar, and started scrolling through his emails. Katsuki raised an eyebrow when Shinsou’s thumb quit flicking at the screen and the bastard perked up at something.

“Hey,” He said to Katsuki, “I just got an offer to intern with Eraserhead.”

An excited squeal escaped Izuku’s mouth as the man turned to Shinsou with a giant inhalation, no doubt in preparation to disclose his dissertation on how cool he found Shinsou’s news.

“Are you serious?” He gushed, “Eraserhead doesn’t extend that offer all that much, because he’s so busy! He and I both fought really hard to get you moved into the hero course at U.A. but it never ended working out! He’s still got his eye on you after all this time? Wow, Hitoshi! That’s so cool!”

Shinsou gaped at Izuku, phone lowered and forgotten. After a moment of being stricken speechless, the bastard recomposed himself and smiled back at Izuku.

You’re the cool one, sensei,” He argued, “You work with Eraserhead. You’re the number one hero.”

Izuku shook his head furiously, determined set to his eyebrows, “Your quirk is extremely versatile! There’s so much that you could do that I could never. You could resolve conflicts without violence, could apprehend resilient villains in a matter of seconds without any casualties. How awesome is that?”

“You do that anyways without a brainwashing quirk, sensei,” Shinsou declared triumphantly.

“Holy fuck,” Katsuki muttered to Ochako, flipping a pancake while Shinsou and Midoriya continued to fanboy over each other, “They’re giving me a headache.”

Ochako placed a hefty plate of eggs next to the bacon, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly, “Deku’s always been like that. It’s cute—but embarrassing.”

“Hella embarrassing,” Katsuki agreed, slapping the final chocolate chip pancake onto the already enormously high stack of pancakes.

But, yeah, hella cute.




Katsuki was thankful that the nerds didn’t live too far away from campus. Izuku had returned to his and Shinsou’s apartment last night to retrieve Shinsou’s bike, which was all fine and dandy for the lazy bastard, but Katsuki still only had his legs to get him places. It took a lot of motivation to get dressed and walk a couple of miles just to get to the stupid fucking class that he hates with all of his little heart, after all. Especially when psycho villains were after your hide.

Bakugou walked onto the training grounds for Intro to Rescue with a frown on his face. Yamazaki hadn’t shown up yet, and there were only a few students who were there early like he was—batman included.

“Bakugou!” She exclaimed, running up to him with a smile on her face, “I saw your match on Saturday! You’re really good at fighting!”


“Oh, come on,” She continued, keeping pace with him as he tried walking away from her, “Don’t look so grumpy! I would have never known how much potential you have, seeing as Yamazaki never lets us fight offensively!”

Bakugou didn’t respond verbally, but he did raise an eyebrow at the girl. Doesn’t she realize that he’s the fucker that got kicked out of U.A.? Has she really not seen him fight before? Was he really that shit at rescue?

“Oh, there’s Himura,” Batman chimed, “He looks kinda mad.”

“Bakuguo!” Winnie the fucker’s voice screeched. Bakugou stopped making laps around the field, turning to Himura with crossed arms and a disinterested gaze. The pants shitter had morphed his arms into intimidating bear claws (could the idiot not think of anything else, he literally had every species at his disposal and all he could come up with was a bear) and was stomping over to him angrily.

“I’m fucking pissed at you and your pussy friend!” Himura swore, “Too scared to fight your own battles so you hide behind your friends, huh?”

Katsuki rolled his eyes.

“Please. You think I need help to make you shit yourself? Maybe if you weren’t so full of shit, you would have saved yourself from embarrassment,” He muttered, turning away from Himura because he could literally care less about this second-rate asshole. Batman snickered.

“What did you just say to me?” Himura roared, raising a bear fist to thrash at the blonde.

Katsuki was prepared to duck out of the way, of course he was, but before he reacted a navy blue wall of solid energy interrupted Himura’s attack. The bastard hissed, transforming his hand back to its human form and cradling it to his chest. He and Katsuki both glared at the source of the wall in surprise.

“You three!” Yamazaki yelled, “Class is about to start. Get over here!”

Katsuki blinked. It wasn’t all that surprising to him that his professor pointedly chose not to scold Himura for trying to start a fight with him, but he was surprised that Yamazaki didn’t have any choice words or insults to send Katsuki’s way. He cocked his head to the side, falling in step with Batman.

“Yamazaki didn’t even insult you just now,” Batman whispered to him, “He’s probably afraid of losing his job. I reported him to the administrative office for what happened on Friday.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” Katsuki sneered, but there wasn’t a lot of bite to his words.

Batman narrowed her eyes at him, “Good thing I didn’t do it for you, then. Besides. I wasn’t the only one who went in to report him. You going to set fire to every last one of us?”

“What the fuck kind of person do you think I am?”

She rolled her amber eyes, “You’re an asshole. Obviously.”

Katsuki couldn’t really argue with that.


“But you’re not a bad guy.”


She chuckled, and then ran off to stand with some of her friends as class started. Bakugou glared at Yamazaki as he soared into his lecture and rescue demonstrations.





Katsuki kept a firm grip on each strap of his backpack as he trekked to Uravity and Deku’s agency. He kept an eye on his surroundings, ready if even one thing seemed off, if even one person was eying him funny. But nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just like this morning. That in and of itself put Katsuki on edge.

He walked through the agency’s doors, and made his way into the back of the building. Frog chick wasn’t there, and Katsuki figured that she was out on patrol with Ochako right now.

Izuku had texted him earlier, informing him to wait up for him in his office until he got off patrol. Katsuki figured he could kick back and tackle some of his homework while he waited for the nerd.

He snorted when he walked into Izuku’s office. He gave credit to green bean for trying to be a little conservative with his All Might admiration—there were only three All Might posters adorning the wall—but he also wondered how a nerd like Izuku ever got into U.A. without a quirk.

He noticed a bookshelf on the right side of the room and approached it nosily after clicking the door shut behind him. It was filled to the brim with notebooks and—had Izuku really filled up all of these? If Izuku’s display this morning with Shinsou was anything to go by, Katsuki could guess what Izuku wrote about in these journals.

There was tape on the bookcase indicating what year the notebook was from for easier access and on the spine of each book the dating got even more specific. Bakugou, unable to restrain his curiosity, sought out a precise date and then frowned as his arm stretched out on it own accord when he found what he was looking for. His fingertips ran along the spine of the notebook from almost six years ago—he felt conflicted on whether or not he should be prying through Izuku’s stuff like this.

“Fuck it,” He muttered, pinching the notebook in between his thumb and forefinger and sliding it out from its place on the bookshelf.

He sank into Deku’s chair and kicked his feet up on the desk, flipping the notebook open lazily. Just as Bakugou had suspected, the journal contained detailed entries on pro heroes and aspiring hero students in a messy scrawl. As Katsuki looked closer, they weren’t all even heroes. Some entries were just commentary on people’s quirks. He had even drawn pictures for some entries and one included a woman in a grocery store with nails almost a foot long—she used those nails to carry all of her grocery bags at once. Izuku’s notes highlighted on her ability to extract and retract her nails at will and about how they were resilient enough to carry around heavy objects.

He continued to flick through the journal—every entry was dated and every time he turned the page he could feel his heart rate pick up as he got closer and closer to the date of the sports festival six years ago.

And then he was gaping down at notes about himself from when he was a shitty, prideful fifteen-year-old.

Most of Izuku’s notes were about Katsuki’s quirk—how effective it would be for hero work, how the other students didn’t stand a chance, how fucking awesome it was that Katsuki could create explosions from his palms.

Here and there, he’d commentate on Bakugou’s personality traits and strategic mind.

hot-headed kid—determined to win

recognizes strength, cautious in the face of a worthy opponent

uncanny knack of understanding his enemy’s quirk—uses that to his advantage

Katsuki squinted at a small portion of the notes that had been scribbled out, straining his eyes to try and figure out what Izuku had written. Slowly, he made out the indentations of the pen Izuku had used one by one and slowly put the words together.

broad shoulders, nice ass

Katsuki could picture it—a slightly younger Midoriya writing in his journal furiously as he watched Katsuki at work at the sport’s festival. The bastard seemed to speak everything that crossed his mind when he started muttering, and it was probably a similar situation when it came to taking notes. Izuku had most likely written that particular note as the thought formulated inside of his brain. Then, realizing what exactly he had written about the fifteen-year-old kid ten years younger than him, he’d probably attempted scribbling away all evidence of his lecherous thoughts. Katsuki chuckled at the thought.

The door burst open and Katsuki jumped, hastily removing his feet from off the desk and placing them onto the floor.

“Kacchan!” Izuku exclaimed as he pulled off his cowl and closed the door behind him, smile exuberant and eyes sparkling like always. Those eyes were immediately drawn to the notebook Katsuki still held open in his hands. Deku blushed violently, body moving to stand behind Bakugou so that he could see what specifically the blonde was reading.

“I had a feeling you might read this one,” He chirped sheepishly.

“You hardly said a negative thing about me,” Katsuki regarded, “Even though I was a little shit back then.”

Izuku shook his head and tugged the journal out of Bakugou’s grasp, “We all have shortcomings, Kacchan!” He strolled over to the bookcase and put it back in its place. Then he stooped down to look for something on the bottom shelf. “No use dwelling on that when we all grow and change with every day that passes—ahah!” Deku jumped back to his feet, holding another less worn journal in his hands. “It’s kind of embarrassing, isn’t it?” He gestured to the bookcase, and then shrugged. “I’ve just always been so awed by people’s quirks, I can’t really help it. Your quirk especially has me drooling. Here!” He thrust the notebook into Katsuki’s chest, “This one is much more up to date!”

Katsuki huffed, not really believing that this was real—did Izuku really have multiple entries on him?—but accepting the notebook nonetheless. He unzipped his backpack and tucked the journal safely inside.

“Alright, Deku,” Bakugou hummed, checking his watch, “I have to be to work in like three hours so tell me what you have to tell me.”

Izuku immediately sobered up. There was a couch on the other side of his office that he tugged Katsuki over to by the hand. Katsuki melted into the cushions, and allowed Izuku, who sat right next to him so that their knees would knock together whenever they’d move even slightly, to keep their hands locked together.

Izuku hummed and Katsuki watched him intently, noticing how his head was tilted to the side in thought—how he didn’t seem to know where to begin.

“My quirk,” He started, staring down at the hand littered in scars, “Is a baton—a, uh, torch. You know…” Katsuki didn’t know, “Something to be passed on…like it was passed on to me.”

Bakugou stared at him with wide eyes.

“I had always accepted being quirkless, you know,” Izuku continued, skating his eyes over to meet Katsuki’s, “I never let that hold me back from being a hero. To be gifted with this torch…was truly a blessing.”


Izuku smiled, “I met you when you were younger, you know? I-I didn’t realize it was you until we brought you all of Ochako’s textbooks while you were working.”

Katsuki shook his head, because he honestly couldn’t remember.

“I didn’t have One for All—ah, my quirk—I didn’t have it yet. But it was that time with the sludge villain—when you were attacked. You were amazing to me—you held out against that guy for longer than I ever could. And not just because of your quirk! Your determination to not be defeated was admirable. But, in this case, it couldn’t hold out against a powerful quirk like that villain’s. And what could I do against a quirk like that? Not a damn thing. But I rushed in to to help anyways.”

Katsuki vaguely remembered a man hastening forward from the crowd, chucking his cell phone at the villain’s eyes and allowing Katsuki to gulp down much needed air. A memory clicked into place, and Bakugou remembered using that breath allotted to him to insult the man failing to save him.


Izuku laughed, “That’s what you called me! It made me kind of feel like shit in the moment, if I’m being perfectly honest. But Ochako changed the meaning for me a little later on, and I was enough of an underground hero that changing my name wasn’t a big deal.”


Izuku squeezed his hand, “I know. But I’m actually grateful! My hero name is a reminder to myself that I can do it. Even if it seems impossible!” He sighed fondly, and then scrunched up his nose like he was formulating a plan of how to continue in his explanation, “Anyways. Luckily All Might ducked in to really save you and, uh, that’s when he, uh, offered me his power?”

All Might?”

“Yeah,” Izuku breathed, eyes glazed over like he couldn’t believe it himself, “He had been looking for a successor—s’why he even started working at U.A. His intention was to find someone younger and unknown as a hero to pass One for All to—for obvious reasons—but he decided to give it to me instead.”

Katsuki nodded like he understood, but he was still a little dumbfounded by this entire conversation—by Izuku’s entire existence. If it weren’t for the striking similarities between Deku’s quirk and All Might’s, Deku’s rise when All Might retired, and the evidence Izuku has already provided for him, he’d have a hard time believing this story. But somehow, with the entire context provided to him, it all made sense to Katsuki.

All…but one thing.

“Why are you telling me this?” He inquired, “If it’s really such a huge secret, then why…?”

“I…” Izuku’s eyes trailed to his feet, and the hero looked more somber than Katsuki’s ever seen him, “I’m not actively looking for a successor…” Determined, Izuku flicked his eyes back up to stare into Katsuki’s, “But, I guess, if I were to need one…I’d want it to be you, Kacchan.”

“Me?” Katsuki tore his eyes away from Deku’s and glared at the wall, “You’re out of your fucking mind.”

“I’m serious,” Izuku said softly.

“I’m fucked up—”

“We’re all a little fucked up—”

“I care more about winning than saving—”

“That’s not true, and you know it—”

“I’m weak,” He insisted, crimson eyes meeting green ones again, “I’m weak as fuck.”

Izuku studied Katsuki for a long time, eyes roving over his face like he was trying to crack an impossible code. Bakugou drank in the way the translucent lights made his eyes look fiery, and the blonde could suddenly see the power of the quirkless man he was born to be. The strong determination to not give up on anything he believes in, even if all the odds were stacked against him.

“Katsuki,” Izuku said, voice deep and soft and kind, “It’s because you recognize your weakness…that you can be made strong. I felt the same as you, you know?” Izuku’s hand holding onto Katsuki’s rose to his lips, and he pressed a soft kiss onto Katsuki’s knuckles. “I can see that you have a good heart, Kacchan—you’re a hero. You don’t need a license to make me see that—it’s who you are.”

“You’re insane,” Katsuki asserted halfheartedly.

Izuku shifted his position, knees and body turned towards Bakugou so that he could properly invade his space. And Katsuki didn’t stop him, only lifted a hand to rest on the bastard’s shoulder. Izuku touched his forehead to Katsuki’s; his eyes were closed like he was meditating and Bakugou felt like he would do anything Izuku asked.

“You don’t have to accept, Kacchan,” He said quietly and seriously, “I would never force this burden upon you. But…if you were to decline, I would hope it would be because you honestly don’t want this and not because you think so lowly of yourself.”

Izuku opened his eyes and sucked in a long inhalation, steeling himself for his next question.

“Will you accept this power one day, Katsuki?”

Katsuki’s gaze never faltered from his, “Yeah.”

Izuku beamed and nuzzled his nose against Katsuki’s.

“I wish you saw yourself the way Ochako and I see you, Kacchan,” Izuku whispered, “How beautiful you are.” He pressed his lips to Katsuki’s cheekbone, and Bakugou could feel his eyelashes fluttering against Izuku’s skin. “Inside and out.” He continued trailing kisses to his jawline and peppering Katsuki with chaste affection. “Ochako and I are so lucky to have you.” The soft brush of lips transitioned slowly into open-mouthed kisses and nibbles down the length of Katsuki’s neck and up again. Izuku cupped his face between his scarred hands. “You’re so good, Kacchan,” He said, licking his lips.

A whimper escaped from Katsuki’s throat, but he hardly had the time to care when Izuku’s lips encased his own. Katsuki tilted his head to the side, allowing Izuku better access to his mouth. The wet slide of tongues set Katsuki’s insides alight, and in that moment his desires were very clear to him.

He pulled back, staring into Deku’s eyes intently.


He watched with satisfaction as Izuku’s eyes dilated at the sound of his name rolling off Katsuki’s tongue.

“Can we…? With Ochako too…?”

He registered somewhere in the back of his mind that this was the first time he’s ever used their first names and not some witty nickname or expletive.

Izuku seemed to understand what he meant, which was a relief to the blonde. Izuku’s fingers slid down to rest possessively where Katsuki’s trapezius met just above his scapula, palm curving around to cup his neck and sit heavy on his clavicle. It was a reverent motion, and it was followed up with a gentle nod of his head. Katsuki could feel the heat of his palm burning through the thin fabric of his shirt, wanted to strip himself of that layer between them.

“Anything you want, Katsuki,” Izuku murmured.




Izuku hurriedly got dressed into civilian clothes, and then escorted Katsuki out the back way of the building towards his car.

Izuku called Ochako on his phone and handed it over to Katsuki so he could hop into the driver’s seat. Bakugou was more than fine with that—the craving to hear Ochako’s voice was alarming to the blonde. He can’t remember ever feeling this way about anyone in his entire life—but these two damn nerds…

Deku?” Ochako’s voice sounded in his ear.

“It’s me,” Katsuki corrected, not even bothering to identify who ‘me’ was. He slid into the passenger seat, absentmindedly clicking his seatbelt into place.


Katsuki could see in his mind her soft smile and warm gaze as she let that stupid nickname pull her lips back and forth around her teeth.


What’s up?”

Katsuki gulped. He was always straightforward about everything ever, but—right now—he couldn’t find the words to express his desire to be with them without making it sound like gratification or kinky bullshit.

“How’s patrol?” He opted to ask instead. Izuku snorted as he backed out of his parking spot and pulled through the little alleyway that lead to the parking lot behind his agency.

Ochako laughed, “I just got done, actually. I’m on my way home right now.”

Before Katsuki could come up with something else half assed to ask about, Ochako continued with a teasing edge to her voice, “You can’t possibly be calling me from Izuku’s phone just to ask me about my day. What’s really up? Dork.”

Bakugou growled, feeling some of his usual smugness and perpetual frustration seeping back into his bloodstream.

“You’re both too fucking smart.”

Silence on her end indicated to Katsuki that she was waiting patiently for him to explain.

“I—fuck,” He ran his fingers through his hair nervously, “We’re on our way home too and—damn it—Shinsou’s got work today and—fucking hell!”

Yes?” Ochako goaded, stringing the syllable of the word along for much longer than necessary.

Her tone set off his competitive nature.

“I want you,” He practically barked into the receiver, “Both of you. Fucking nerds. So just…hurry home. We’ll be there in, like, two seconds and I have work in like two hours and if we have to wait too long we’ll fucking get started without you!”

“No we won’t,” Izuku chuckled.

“No we won’t,” He agreed, placing his hand over the receiver so Ochako wouldn’t hear their sappy ass, short-lived conversation.

Oh my god.” Ochako sounded a little winded. “Holy shit.”

“You got it?” Katsuki inquired, sounding agitated and affectionate at the same time.

Fuck. Yes.”

Round cheeks swearing really was hot as hell.

“Fucking fantastic!” He shot back, shaking off that wave of arousal (albeit, halfheartedly), “Bye!”

See you,” She offered back quietly.

Katsuki hung up on her.

Izuku let go of the laugh he’d been holding in through their entire conversation.

“Oi,” Katsuki drawled, glaring at the bastard, “Shut the hell up and drive.”




Izuku parked in his allotted stall, and the two of them stumbled into the building, Izuku at Katsuki’s heels. Katsuki pounded the button to the elevator repeatedly, tapping his toe impatiently as he waited. Izuku laughed at him once again, and Katsuki turned around to give him a piece of his mind. But, right when he opened his mouth to let expletives loose, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open and Izuku shoved him inside, pushing the button to his floor, and crowding Katsuki up against the railing.

He and green bean were about the same height—Katsuki was just a smidge taller—so when the bastard slid his knee between Bakugou’s legs a solid line of contact was created from where Izuku’s thigh pressed into his crotch all the way to where their chests fit together—muscles fitting against muscles, ribcage resting on ribcage, and breath mixing and finding fortitude between their lips. Katsuki could feel the wild beat of Izuku’s heart, and that only riled him up even further.

Katsuki felt the upward force of the elevator on his feet at the same time Izuku attacked Katsuki’s neck, pulling aside his shirt to suck a bruise where it would just slightly peek out from underneath his collar.

“Fuck,” He groaned, raking his fingernails over Izuku’s clothed back and tilting his head to the side to give the nerd better access. When Izuku bit down and felt satisfied with the mark he left there, he pulled back and looked at Katsuki through his eyelashes. He grinded his thigh into Bakugou’s crotch, inciting his dick to attention, and traced every nuance of Katsuki’s expression with those piercing eyes.

The elevator dinged again, and Izuku backed away from him—in case one of his neighbors was waiting for the elevator to go down—and started whistling nonchalantly. Katsuki rolled his eyes. His cheesy ass pretend innocence and both of their boners would give them away if there really was anyone outside of the elevator anyways.

The doors opened, and the hallway proved to be empty.

Katsuki yelped when two strong hands wrapped around his waist and hefted him over a sturdy shoulder.

“What the fuck,” He screeched, pounding his fist once against Izuku’s back, “Put me down!”

“Nah,” Midoriya said cheerfully, patting Bakugou’s ass as he made his way to his apartment. He searched through the pocket of his jeans for his keys—holding Katsuki through his squirming with one arm and no fucking trouble at all—then unlocked the door and strolled in. He made a beeline for the bedroom, tossing Katsuki onto the bed where he bounced and pouted.

Izuku chuckled.

“Oh, come on,” He insisted, “Ochako loves it when I do that.”

“Do I look like Ochako?”

Izuku eyed him from his toes, to his abdomen, to his shoulders, to his lips where his gaze lingered for quite some time.

“No,” He conceded, “You don’t.” A smirk graced his lips. “But I know you still loved it.”

“Hah?” Katsuki raised an eyebrow, deflecting the conversation because he didn’t want to admit how much he really actually fucking loved how playful Izuku seemed to get during foreplay. He was like an overexcited rabbit, and it was endearing as fuck. “You’re an awful lot of talk right now.”

“My bad,” He apologized, grinning while he placed a knee on the bed and leaned down to lock lips with Bakugou. They stayed like that for a while—not letting their hands stray too much—until they heard the front door to the apartment burst open and then slam close again. Izuku pulled away, grinning as Ochako’s footsteps grew closer.

“Holy shit, you guys,” She started as she rushed into the bedroom, flustered. Katsuki noticed that her T-shirt was on backwards and that her hair was in utter disarray, “You can’t just spring that on me like that. I got changed in my car so I wouldn’t have to go back to the agency. I’m pretty sure an old lady saw me in my skivvies! Which, by the way, are not cute today. I sped through two red lights because they turned goddamned yellow and there was no way I was going to wait for them to turn green again. Could you please give me more of a warning next time?”

Izuku laughed, closing in on her to reach past her waist and shut the bedroom door. He saddled right up next to her, bringing his hands to her face to stare into her big ass eyes. Katsuki watched the exchange with rapt attention—drinking up how the two of them interacted, how nice they looked so close together.

“Should we make a schedule?” Izuku joked, stealing a kiss from her lips and trailing one hand dangerously low on her waist.

No,” She tried not to laugh, but giggles cascaded out of her mouth anyways, “God. You’re such a nerd.”

He hummed, softly pressing his lips to hers. One of his hands was tangled in her hair, and the other was roaming her body freely. Katsuki’s gaze followed that hand, watching as it came up to cup her breast and squeeze the meaty flesh there, then how it trekked southward to dip down into her sweatpants and settled on her ass. Izuku must have pinched her there, because a second later Ochako pulled back with a yeep.

She pushed back on his chest, laughing.

She turned to Katsuki, and her lithe body reminded him of a panther poised to pounce on its prey.

He gulped.

Her gaze settled on the obvious bulge in his pants for a while, until she flicked it back up to meet his gaze with a feral smile on her face.

“What do you want, Katsuki?” She closed the distance between them, crawling up the bed until she was straddling him and briefly rocked her hips to create friction on his cock. She tugged at his shirt and he leaned forward so that she could take it off. Her gaze held a question, but he was finding it hard to focus when her soft fingertips were tracing the planes of his chest.

“I want to fuck you,” He admitted after a moment. “Then,” He licked his lips, “I want to watch Deku fuck you.”

Izuku’s weight dipped the mattress next to them, and Katsuki was pleased to find that he’d divested himself of his shirt and his pants—leaving himself bare except for his boxers.

“Hmm,” Izuku hummed, tracing the lines of his deltoid muscles with his thumb while his other hand joined Ochako’s on his torso, “A man of simple tastes.” He leaned down to swipe the flat of his tongue across Bakugou’s serrates, following the line of muscle that led to his nipple and keeping his attention there. He pulled back an inch and smirked up at Katsuki, tongue sliding out from between his lips and flicking the bud playfully.

“Nothing wrong with simple,” Katsuki said defensively and sulkily, but the effect of his whining was lost when he gasped, back arching when Ochako ground down onto him again.

“I’m definitely not opposed to your suggestion, Kacchan,” Izuku murmured against his pectoral, “The idea of you watching me n’ Ochako is hot as fuck.”

“It really is,” Ochako agreed, her voice reduced to a breath as she sought leverage on Katsuki’s chest to grind hard and slow into him, turning Bakugou into a moaning ball of arousal. That combined with Izuku sucking hickeys all across his clavicle made Katsuki feel like the world was reorienting itself on his axis.

Katsuki lifted his arms, fingers crawling up Ochako’s back and stopping at the clasp of her bra. He undid the damn thing and sat up to help Izuku peel her shirt off. She let the straps of her bra slide down her arms and flicked it away—almost knocking over their lamp. Bakugou’s hands came up immediately and cupped each supple breast, massaging languidly.

She sighed, leaning her weight back onto her hands as Katsuki took one nipple into his mouth.

“Mmm, Kacchan,” She said, “You’ve got such a nice mouth.”

Katsuki retreated with a grin, “I’ve got a nice everything.”

She rolled her eyes, offering him a deadpan, “You’d really rather use that able mouth to brag right now?”

She crawled down Katsuki’s legs, kissing the bulge in his pants before unbuckling his belt. Izuku pressed his chest to Katsuki’s back and reached around the blonde to undo the button to his jeans. The tender way he placed a kiss on the side of Katsuki’s neck caused a full body shiver to run through him and he leaned into the pillar of warmth. As Ochako slid his pants and underwear down his hips and legs, Izuku reached for the drawer of the nightstand to procure condoms.

The watch they gave him—he’d taken to wearing it pretty much everywhere—was the only thing left on his body. Now that he was stripped completely before them its weight felt like a scorching brand against his wrist.

Katsuki moaned as Izuku took him in hand, pumping him a few times before slowly rolling the condom on. Ochako bit her lip at the two of them together, of the grooves and valleys of their toned forms. She slid out of her sweats and, because she was an impatient motherfucker, moved her panties to the side so that she could line herself up with Bakugou’s cock and sink down without any preamble.

Katsuki cried out, digging his heels into the mattress so that he could more easily meet her downward thrusts.

“Ngh,” She enunciated, setting a leisurely rhythm that had Katsuki clutching the bed sheets, “Be a good boy n’ suck on Izuku’s cock while we fuck, hmm?”

“You think you can—fuck—tell me what to do?” He inquired, grabbing onto her hips for leverage.

The heat of Izuku’s body left his back. Katsuki hadn’t realized how much he’d been leaning on green bean until he wasn’t there anymore and he effectively fell backwards into the pillows. Then Izuku’s face was hovering over him, smile blinding and innocent.

“Aw, Kacchan,” He whined, “You’d look so pretty with your mouth wrapped around my cock.”

Katsuki stared up at him with wide eyes, trying to reconcile the Izuku he knew to the one looming over him at this very moment—eyes lidded, cheeks flushed, and filthy things spewing out of his mouth like it was second nature to him.

He forgot how to use his vocal cords—could he be blamed when Uraraka was fucking his brains out and Izuku was looking at him like he wanted to tear him to fucking shreds? The only way he knew how to respond to Izuku’s request was by obediently opening his mouth wide.

Izuku understood what he meant instantly, removing his boxers before carefully hooking a leg over Katsuki’s head and lowering his dick to his lips.

Katsuki licked at the damn thing like a motherfucking lollipop before taking it into his mouth, reaching up to Izuku’s hip to urge him to sink down a bit more so that he could do his job more efficiently. Ochako sped up at the sight before her, moaning and panting and definitely taking Katsuki to the edge with her.

“You look so good, Kacchan,” Izuku persisted, grunting in pleasure as Katsuki bobbed his head up and down along his cock, “You’re fucking Ochako so nicely. Sucking me off like a good boy—you’re our good little boy.” He groaned as Bakugou wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, “Fuck. We love making you feel good. And it feels nice to make us feel good too, huh?”

Katsuki moaned around his dick, going mad at everything streaming out of Izuku’s mouth and feeling everything coil up as Ochako bounced up and down on his cock. He knew that she was close from the way that she kept chanting his name and with how she sped up frantically, seeking release, and he was right behind her.

Katsuki felt very much like a wave, being pushed and pushed backwards until he couldn’t take anymore and everything started to build up and up and up, pleasure rising with every thrust of his hips. As Ochako clenched around him with a loud cry, finding her own release and riding him through it, he felt all of the pleasure crest in his belly and snap. He released Izuku’s cock from his mouth, back arching off the bed as his orgasm crashed through him and he spilled his seed into the condom. His mouth was open, but no noise left him as the peak of his release wracked through his body. He clutched the bed sheets tightly, accidently setting off his quirk and singeing through them. The small flurry of harmless explosions continued until his abs stopped twitching and he was falling into the blankets completely boneless.

“Ochako,” He said softly, in between pants of breath, “Izuku.”

Ochako dismounted, falling down next to him. Katsuki looked at her, thoughts a crazy jumble of sated happiness. He was so transfixed watching the rise and fall of her chest—her post coital contentment—that he didn’t even notice Izuku climbing off the bed to sit at their feet, patiently wait for them to recover.

He registered a warm, calloused hand wrapping around his ankle and Katsuki sat up enough to remove the condom from his flaccid cock—tying it up and throwing it into the trash bin in the corner with perfect aim.

“You ready to go again, Ochako?” Izuku inquired tenderly after a moment.

“You kidding?” She sounded blissed out but determined, “I could do this all fucking day. You paying attention, Kacchan?” She sat up to level him with a look of excitement.

“Hell yeah.”

She held the condom out to him. “Do the honor!”

Katsuki chuckled, ripping the package open and rolling the condom down Deku’s fucking bigger than expected cock. Izuku smiled, grabbing Katsuki by the neck and pulling him into a brief kiss. They separated with a wet sound, and Izuku crawled his way over to Ochako. She still hadn’t taken off her ruined panties, so Izuku took the time now to trail the thin fabric down her legs and throw it on the floor. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he lined himself up to her entrance and pushed in.

He handled her tenderly—Katsuki could see years of love and affection filtering the entire display—one hand cupping the underside of her knee while the other intertwined with one of hers. As he thrust forward for the first time, Katsuki couldn’t stop himself from laying his hand across the muscles of his back as the fibers stretched and contracted.

“You guys are so fucking stunning,” Bakugou blurted out.

Izuku ducked his head down, moaning.

Ochako hummed, “You like the show, Kacchan?”

“Do I fucking ever.”

Izuku pulled out, only to bury himself to the hilt again in a single thrust. He picked up a rhythm that looked practiced, was too intimate, and yet Katsuki kept his eyes glued to every movement of their hips like he fucking owned the right to do so.

And they trusted him with this—he was reminded suddenly of what exactly escalated things for them to get here. Deku’s crazy ass secret was the catalyst—he valued Katsuki highly enough that he thought him worthy to be the next vessel of god-like power. He saw past the angry asshole, and decided he could reign in peace. And Ochako supported him in that decision. Each of these nerds saw something in Katsuki and with every moment he spent in their presence he was maybe able to see just a glimpse of the goodness they insisted was hidden behind the pride and self-hatred.

God, he was warm. They made him feel warm.

He couldn’t stop touching them. Even when they picked up the pace, and they were both chasing release—Katsuki grabbed a fistful of hair at the base of her skull and tugged and ate up the noises that escaped from her mouth. He scraped his fingernails down Izuku’s back just cause and smiled smugly at the red lines it left on his skin. He kissed shoulders, traced freckles, and committed their facial expressions to memory.

“Ochako,” Midoriya panted, thrusting in and out like his life depended on it, “I’m—ah—close.”

“Me too—shit!”

Katsuki reached down to where they were joined, circling his fingers over her clit and driving her to the edge.

“Izuku! Katsuki! Fuck!” She threw her head back and moaned their names as another orgasm hit her. Izuku fucked her through it while Katsuki sped up the movement of his hand until she was a twitching mess. Katsuki took his hand away slowly, bringing the fingers coated in her juices to his lips and licking them clean.

That set Izuku off and, with one final thrust into Ochako, he was coming as well—moaning expletives in between mantras of their names.

Izuku pulled out carefully, and then got up to dispose of his condom. He quickly returned to the bed to fall face first in between Ochako and Katsuki. He threw an arm around each of them, tugging them to his side. Ochako nuzzled into him happily. Katsuki harrumphed first, but willingly tangled his legs with Izuku’s. He sunk into the sheets and took in the musky scent of sex.

He squinted up at the ceiling.

“Why are all the fucking pillows floating?”

“Oops!” Ochako giggled, bringing her fingers together, “Release!”

They all rained down, hitting Katsuki in the face and setting Ochako off into a violent fit of laughter.

“You burned our sheets,” Izuku commented, “Losing control of your quirk because you’re blissed out of your mind is really hot. Could be dangerous though. Especially because we really made you work up a sweat there. I wonder how big of an explosion we could get you to make during sex? Maybe the harder you orgasm the bigger the—”

Katsuki smacked him with one of the pillows.

“I fucking swear if you write all that down in one of your quirk journals, I’ll kill you dead.”

Ochako laughed even harder at that.

Katsuki sighed, biting Izuku’s arm lackadaisically, “So much for fucking homework.”

“Yeah,” Ochako managed between giggles, “You got to fuck us instead.”

Katsuki smacked her with a pillow too.

Chapter Text

P U T  T H E  M E A T  O N  M Y  B O N E S

C H A P T E R  N I N E

-turn your face towards the sun-

When Katsuki got back from work that evening, he had a huge smirk on his face which fell away instantly when he saw Hitoshi’s wide-eyes glow in the moonlight spilling in through the blinds.

“What?” He asked quietly and annoyed, wary of the late hour. He stomped over to his duffel bag, yanking his shirt off on the way.

“You got laid, didn’t you?”

Katsuki’s smirk returned. He leaned over the coffee table that had been pushed into the wall and flicked on the lamp. Then he turned to Hitoshi and let him get an eyeful of the hickeys painted across his collarbone and the red lines trailing down his sides from where Ochako had scraped her fingernails across his skin.

Hitoshi’s eye twitched.

“They’re possessive bastards, huh,” He observed, quickly turning his gaze away from Katsuki. “How was it, then?”

“Best damn sex of my life,” Katsuki declared proudly, shucking his pants and digging around his bag for his toothbrush and toothpaste. He gestured to the bathroom, letting Shinsou know that he’d be back in a minute. Hitoshi nodded, scratching Voldemort’s stomach idly. Katsuki disappeared into the bathroom, flicking on the light and allowing his eyes to take in Izuku and Ochako’s handy work.

He prodded one of the hickeys with his finger, trying to bring back the sensation of Deku’s lips sucking and biting down on his skin. Izuku definitely liked marking him up, to Katsuki’s pleasant surprise. He was kind of expecting that sort of thing from Ochako more—the reason she was always a blushing mess when it came to the subject of sex had to be because she was actually a kinky motherfucker.

He closed his eyes for a moment and he was pretty sure that the image of the two of them together, moving seamlessly and making Katsuki wild, would be burned on the back of his eyelids until he found something even prettier to look at. Which—unlikely.

A sharp breath escaped through his nose, as he shook his head in amusement. He would have never expected for his life to take this turn—a week ago if you’d told him he’d sleep with the number one and six heroes simultaneously he’d have laughed in your face. And know the three of them were—were…

Fuck. What were they?

Izuku was pretty insistent that he was theirs. And Ochako had even mentioned it too. But what did that mean exactly? That they cared enough about him to give him nice things?

But where was the line? Because Katsuki would be lying if he said he didn’t want to be woven into every intricate and intimate part of their relationship like he’d always been there. And, god, what a concept. He couldn’t get over the way they made him feel.

He brushed his teeth aggressively, his thoughts a jumbled mess of happiness mixed with anxiety.

When he returned to the living room, he kicked at his makeshift bed that hadn’t been touched since that morning the same way a dog would kick at blankets until they were satisfied enough to lay down.

“What are you doing?” Shinsou inquired.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He growled back, “I’m getting ready for bed.”

Hitoshi rolled his eyes, “I can see that, asshat. What I meant is why aren’t you in there?” He nodded at Izuku and Ochako’s door where only darkness could be seen through the crack at the bottom, “With them? All snuggled up and in love?”

“They’re probably asleep,” Katsuki reasoned, although the honest truth was that it hadn’t even occurred to him that sleeping with the both of them—actual sleeping and being invited into that intimate warmth—was even an option, “I don’t want to wake them up.”

“Katsuki,” Hitoshi murmured seriously, “They probably want you to be in there with them right now just as much as you do. Stop being such an emotionally constipated worrywart and crawl your ass into bed with them.”

Katsuki gulped.

Shinsou sighed, standing up, coming over to the blonde, and gripping Katsuki by the shoulders.

“Don’t make me use my quirk on you,” He said.

Katsuki shrugged his hands off with a growl, “Fucking fine. I’ll do it. Sit your ass down.”

Hitoshi raised an eyebrow, but nonetheless sat back down on the couch to silently encourage his roommate from the sidelines.

Katsuki inhaled, long and deep and let it out in one go. He crept over to Ochako and Izuku’s room, reaching slowly for the doorknob. He twisted it, careful not to make much noise, and opened the door a hair. What little light they had on in the living room spilled dully into the bedroom and Katsuki could make out the curves of their bodies underneath the covers. He pressed forward, stepping inside and quietly shutting the door behind him.

He watched them sleep for a moment, feeling his heart beat wildly underneath his skin. Ochako was curled up behind Izuku with her arm draped over his waist, snoring lightly. Izuku was resting his head on his bicep, the other dangling off the side of the bed. Their legs had to be tangled together underneath the blanket with how closely they were pressed together.

They both looked young and content and warm.

Katsuki felt the visceral urge to backtrack and leave, not wanting to disrupt perfection. But the headlights of a passing car filtered in through the window and illuminated their faces and Katsuki could hear their voices from earlier today in his mind telling him that he was exactly what they wanted and that they were so lucky to have him. That’s what they’d been telling him from the start…right?

He stepped towards the bed.

He couldn’t fathom being wanted for anything other than his quirk or his body. How could this possibly be actuality? How were they real? They’d told him they were the lucky ones, but right now Katsuki felt entirely undeserving of their affection and trust.

He took a step back.

His fists tightened around the fabric of his boxers.

“Deku. Ochako,” He whispered to them before he lost all of his composure. He stepped towards the sleeping couple and dropped onto his knees beside the bed, “Hey.”

Izuku’s eyebrows scrunched together and the man cracked open an eyeball.

“Kacchan?” He murmured sleepily, gently nudging Ochako with his elbow. She stirred, leaning up on her forearm to peek over Izuku’s shoulder. She smiled at him, scooting over sleepily without another word. Bakugou inhaled sharply at her immediate acceptance of his presence here—in the dark, in the vulnerable atmosphere of sleep, in their shared space.

“Yeah,” Bakugou replied, reaching out to run his fingers through green curls. “I, uh, just got back from work,” He finished awkwardly.

Deku rolled onto his back, and then slid across the sheets. Without another word, he lifted the blankets in clear invitation. Katsuki let out the breath he’d been holding in, then carefully crawled in between them. Izuku lowered the blankets again and shuffled closer to Bakugou. He rolled onto his side again, rested his head on Katsuki’s shoulder, and crawled his long fingers down his forearm to clasp their hands together. Ochako seemed to wake up a little more and she flipped onto her stomach to mirror Izuku.

“How’as work?” She slurred, lips brushing against his shoulder.

“Shitty,” Katsuki whispered back, “Just wanted to stay with you guys.”

“Mm,” The noise creeping up Izuku’s throat vibrated pleasantly against Katsuki’s arm, “We wanted that too, Kacchan.”

“We couldn’t get you outta our heads,” Ochako said, a little more coherent, “You’wer so beautiful today.”

Warmth erupted throughout Katsuki’s chest.

“Glad you’re home now,” Izuku mumbled, snuggling closer and sneaking his leg between Katsuki’s.


Katsuki squeezed their hands, failing to control the erratic beating of his heart. Izuku rested his cheek against his chest, kissing the left side of his ribcage. Bakugou could feel the smile on his lips.

“Go back to sleep,” He ordered, trying to ignore the heat creeping up his neck and face. He rolled onto his side to face Izuku and rested a hand on the other man’s hip. Ochako eagerly spooned up to Katsuki’s back and nuzzled her face into his neck while Deku stretched his scarred arm around them both. Katsuki could feel both of their warm exhalations softly against his skin. He waited patiently for their breathing to even out before letting himself succumb to sleep as well.

“Shitty nerds,” He mumbled into Izuku’s hair, “Need you so fuckin’ much.”




Katsuki woke up the next morning to Ochako stirring behind him. The space that had been occupied by Izuku was empty and cold, and the morning light was a lot brighter than he was used to.

He sat up on his elbows, glancing over at Ochako who was rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Her hair was adorably unkempt and one of the straps of her tank top had fallen off her shoulder sometime during the night. She turned towards him mid-stretch and Katsuki’s eyes were captured on the line of skin revealed as her shirt rode up.

“Kacchan,” She hummed, looping her arm through his and laying her head on his shoulder, “You’re warm.”

Katsuki snorted, turning his head and pressing a kiss to her temple.

“You work today?” He asked.

She shook her head, “I’m on call. Do you?”

He shook his head, “Got practice after class though.”

“Izuku works, like, every day,” Ochako pouted, “It’s so annoying.”

“S’what he gets for being number one.”

“Mm. Yeah.”

“Why did he leave so early this morning?” Katsuki inquired, pushing the blankets off the both of them. Ochako whined, unprepared for the cool air. She tugged on his arm to keep him in place when he tried getting up to get ready. He rolled his eyes, “Just ‘cause you get the day off doesn’t mean you get to sit on your ass all day.”

“What time even is it?” She asked, not relenting on his arm.

He glanced at the clock and his eyes widened.

“We fucking slept in,” He groaned, falling back into the pillows and taking Ochako with him. So Izuku hadn’t actually left early, Katsuki had just woken up late. “Why didn’t that fucker wake us up?”

Ochako rubbed a thumb underneath his eye, “Maybe he thought you could use some more sleep.”

“How considerate,” He grumped, “But now I missed my first class of the day and will probably be late for my next one.”

“What classes were they?”

“Battle techniques and Stats.”

She shrugged, “You’re already really good at fighting. Plus you’re wicked smart. It wouldn’t hurt to take the day off.” She sat up quickly, a shit-eating grin on her face, “We could go shopping.”

Katsuki groaned.

“Kill me,” He muttered to the heavens.

“Oh come on, Kacchan,” She insisted, poking his pectoral repeatedly, “It’ll be fun. We can get you something expensive. We can get me something expensive.”

“I don’t fucking need anything.”

Ochako pursed her lips, “You keep complaining that we’re awful sugar daddies, but how could we possibly be good sugar daddies when you don’t want anything?”

Katsuki rolled over onto his side to glare at her, “What would you even buy me, pink cheeks?”

Ochako grinned.




“You look really good in orange, Katsuki,” Ochako declared, holding up a white dress shirt and an orange vest to his chest to see how they’d look on him. She hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head to the side. Katsuki looked up and away from her gaze purposefully. She’d been making offhand comments like that for the past twenty minutes, and each one brought an embarrassing flush to his cheeks.

“I look good in everything,” He growled at her for the nth time, so ready for this shopping trip to be over and this was only the second store they’d gone into.

“Are you going to willfully get into the dressing room this time,” She continued, draping a blood red tie around his shoulders, “Or am I going to have to force you again?” There was a threatening look in her eyes that both scared the shit out of him and really turned him on.

He grabbed the clothing from her, draping it all over one forearm.

“Whatever,” He grumbled, stomping towards the dressing rooms.

She wanted to buy him dress clothes. What the fuck would he even do with dress clothes?

“Save the tie for last,” She sang to him as they walked away from the clothing together, “Let me tie it, pretty please!”

“Yeah, yeah,” He snarked back, waiting for the lady who worked here to count his items and open up a stall for him, “Whatever the fuck you want.”

“Please don’t swear in here, sir,” The sales representative asked politely, unlocking a stall and hanging the number of items on the door. Katsuki bit his tongue—the only reason they were at a second store was because he’d gotten them kicked out of the first one for being too ‘vulgar’.

He slid into the stall and shut the door on Ochako’s excited face.

Katsuki yanked off his shirt grumpily and picked up the dress shirt. He dangled it on his finger by the collar, eyeing it up—it was a nice material and he couldn’t deny that he liked the way it felt. He hasn’t had to wear a button up since Todoroki’s wedding, so sliding his arms through the fabric was a bit of a clumsy ride. When he finally succeeded, he gripped both sides of the shirt and tugged it forward until it hugged his shoulders properly.

His phone started vibrating in his pocket as he started buttoning it up.

He rolled his eyes when he saw that it was shitty hair.

“Hair for brains,” He greeted, tucking the phone into the crook of his shoulder and neck while he continued buttoning his shirt.

Bakugouuu,” Kirishima cheerfully caroled, “It’s been forever. Where have you been?”

“It hasn’t even been a week, stop flipping your shit.”

Ochako banged on the door of his stall, clearly unhappy that Katsuki was continuing to swear after already being escorted out of one store. Katsuki hit the door right back, really not giving a fuck.

I know!” Eijirou responded, “And I think it’s adorable that you keep track of how long it’s been since the last time you’ve seen me. You care in your own little Bakugou sort of way.”

“Is there a reason you’re calling me?” He inquired, reaching down to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans.

Rain check, remember?” Shitty hair intoned, “You said you’d make me food.”

Bakugou sighed.



“Hey, angel!” He yelled at her through the stall.

“What is it?” Ochako’s voice answered.

“Is it cool if I invite hair for brains over for dinner tonight? I’m cooking.”

“You could do literally anything, and I think I’d be okay with it as long as your cooking was involved.” She kinda sounded like she was drooling.

Katsuki nodded, even though no one could see him, and stuck a foot inside the fancy schmancy slacks.

“Tonight works,” He told Eijirou, hopping up and down on one foot as he tried aiming his other foot into the other pant leg, “I told sleepy I’d cook for him for three separate occasions, anyways.”

Was that Ochako-sensei?” Kirishima questioned, and then plowed forward without waiting for a response from Bakugou—like Katsuki would grace that with a reply anyways. “You call her angel? That’s so manly!

“I keep telling you I’m going to murder you for saying sh—crap like that, and yet you don’t stop. You’ll die for that.” Katsuki hiked the slacks up his legs and buttoned up. He tucked in the dress shirt and slid his available arm through one side of the vest. “Anyways,” He continued, “Shinsou and I are currently shacking up with Ochako and Izuku—long fu—freaking story—so don’t stop by our sad excuse for an apartment and expect us to be there.”

Eijirou hummed, “Deku already told me about it. Said I should be there for you if you ever call.”

“Of course he did,” Katsuki rolled his eyes.

When should I come by?”


Eijirou laughed, “I’ll just ask Shinsou when you guys get out of practice today.

“How do you know we have practice today?”

Hitoshi and I keep in contact,” Kirishima explained happily, “Mostly to have someone else to worry about you with.

“You’re both sappy bastards.”

Ochako slammed her fist against the stall again, and Katsuki didn’t hesitate to mimic her actions just because.

“I gotta go, hair for brains,” Katsuki sighed.

Okay!” He chirped, “See ya tonight!”

Katsuki ended the call and flung his phone on his pile of discarded clothing, then shoved his arm through the other hole of the vest. He left it unbuttoned so that Ochako would have an easier time tucking the tie in, but he did quickly put on the dark suit coat over it. Then, he draped the tie around his neck and opened the stall an inch. He beckoned her in, and she slid inside eagerly.

“How’s Eijirou?” She inquired, setting to work on the tie. She frowned as something occurred to her, “Hair for brains is Eijirou right? Is it terrible to assume that? It is, isn’t it? Oh, god. I’m a terrible person.”

Katsuki smirked, tugging on the end of her hair playfully, “It’s okay, pink cheeks. He’s dense as a rock—we all know it. No need to act like you don’t see it too. Embrace it.”

Ochako snorted—that was a sound Katsuki liked to hear—and tugged the knot a little too tightly around his neck. Bakugou choked, hand flying to his collar and loosening the tie.

“Stop being such a funny brat,” She said, tugging him in by the tie. Katsuki went willingly, pressing his forehead to hers, “It’s so damn endearing.”

“Watch your language, angel.”

She giggled, smoothing her hand out over his dress shirt and tucking it just underneath the suit coat to sit warm and heavy over his heart. She let her laughs taper off, and smiled softly up at him.

“I tie Izuku’s ties for him all the time, you know,” She informed him, fingers walking up his sternum and folding the collar over the tie. Then both her hands were in between them, buttoning up the vest, “If the safety of the world hinged on Izuku being able to properly tie a tie, we’d all be doomed. But he’s got me and I like the intimacy of doing that for him.” She cupped his face, “Same goes for you.”

“You’re a sappy bastard too,” Katsuki muttered, leaning down the scant few inches to seal their lips together. She pressed into the kiss, sliding her hand down and around to weave her fingers into his hair. She tugged lightly, and Katsuki responded by opening his mouth and welcoming in her tongue.

“No,” She broke off the kiss a moment later with a playful smile, “I’m an angel.”

Katsuki glared at her.

“You really do look good in orange,” She remarked as she pulled away from him, ignoring his put upon expression and eyeing him slowly from top to bottom, “We’re buying all of that.”

Katsuki glanced in the mirror.

He supposed if Ochako liked it, he wouldn’t mind the woman splurging on his behalf.

Besides. He really did look good in it.




“Question,” Katsuki announced in the car on the way over to her and Deku’s agency—Ochako apparently had some papers she needed to put in her office. Their purchases were in the back seat (Ochako had ended up buying a nice pair of heels with orange accents on them) and Bakugou had kicked his feet up on the dashboard like it was his car.

“Shoot,” Ochako replied, wrist draped over the steering wheel.

“You got me to lose control of my quirk when we were fucking,” He stated bluntly, happy to see her cheeks immediately redden, “We got you to lose control of your quirk when we were fucking—does Deku ever lose control of his quirk when fucking?”

She blushed even darker.

“I wish,” She declared, pouting, “He’s always been way too scared that he’ll hurt me or something. Even when it was new to him, he never lost control of it like that. Which—that was probably a good thing. He broke a lot of bones using his quirk in the beginning and that would just make sex…awkward.” She quirked an eyebrow at him, as if trying to read his mind.

“Figured as much,” Katsuki conceded. Izuku probably felt like he still needed to catch up to everyone around him when it came to his quirk, simply because he wasn’t born with his. So even though the man was the number one goddamned hero, he still felt like he didn’t have a complete grasp on his quirk. What a fucking martyr.

“Why do you ask?” Ochacko inquired, and the blonde knew that she knew what he was getting at.

Katsuki grinned.

“I think that we should make him lose control.”

Bakugou watched a shiver move its way down her spine.




As they were pulling into the agency, Katsuki immediately made note of a car he didn’t recognize parked in the parking lot.

“Hmm,” Ochako wondered aloud, eyeing Bakugou with a small smile, “I wonder if Izuku told him about you.”

“Told who about me?” Katsuki demanded, not enjoying being out of the loop.

“You’ll see,” She answered cryptically, parking and pulling the keys out of the ignition. She reached into the backseat and retrieved two packed lunches that Izuku has prepared for them before he left that morning.

He followed her towards the agency, eyeing the car like that would somehow reveal who the fuck it belonged to. They walked through the back door and Ochako stopped at her office to deposit her stack of papers and set down her keys. Then the two of them made their way down the hallway to peek inside Izuku’s office.

“Izuku?” Ochako called, the door open a crack.

“Come in!” yelled Deku.

Ochako and Katsuki shuffled into the office, lunches in hand.

Izuku had pulled his chair out from behind his desk, and was sitting across from a blonde haired man who was more or less skin and bones. There was a smile on the man’s gaunt features, but Katsuki could tell that his muscles were tensed. Like he was happy to be in Izuku’s presence, but unable to completely let go of whatever stress was eating at his mind. Bakugou swore he saw a flash of recognition in those eyes, but shook that off as nonsense—he would remember meeting someone with features as striking as this guy’s.

“Hey, you two,” Izuku greeted, standing up and pecking Ochako on the lips. As if on autopilot, he did the same with Katsuki. Then he froze when he remembered that they had company.

A deep chuckle filled the air, followed by a snicker from Uraraka.

“What’s this, Izuku?” The man inquired, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

Izuku groaned.

“So he hadn’t told him about you yet,” Ochako mused to Katsuki, strolling over to Izuku’s spot, plopping down and turning to address the man, “Just so you know, Yagi. It was all Izuku’s idea.”

“You were completely on board, Ochako!” Izuku exclaimed, his face red and—wow, Katsuki’s not sure he’s ever seen Deku blush.

“Still,” She allowed, grinning mischievously, “It was all your idea.” She turned to the man—Yagi, apparently—again and said with a smirk, “Really. I thought he would have told you by now.”

“I was gonna tell him,” Izuku grumped, pulling out another chair and guiding Bakugou over to it. Green bean pushed down on his shoulders until the blonde permitted his knees to bend. His gaze flicked over to Yagi and he knew that this was probably where he was supposed to introduce himself. But what the fuck was even going on?

“Yagi,” Midoriya started, sitting next to the skinny man on the couch, “This is Kacchan.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, forcing himself to extend a hand stiffly, “It’s Bakugou Katsuki, actually.” Yagi accepted his hand, shaking it a lot more firmly than Katsuki was expecting and then letting go.

“Ah,” The man said awkwardly, “Nice to see you again, young Bakugou.”

Katsuki quirked his head to the side in confusion, “Sorry, I’m not sure I remember meeting you?”

“Right, right,” He said, waving his hand in the air as if to brush away his own comment.

Izuku sighed, obviously just as affected by the awkward atmosphere as the rest of them. But a determined look graced his features, and the familiarity of such a look helped ease Katsuki’s nerves.

“Yagi,” He said, “This is actually why I asked you to come by today; I needed to talk to you about Katsuki—”

“Yes,” Yagi interrupted, scratching the back of his head, “I’m really very happy for you three. I support you in whatever brings you happiness—you know that, Izuku.”

Izuku huffed, “No! Not that. I mean—yes, that too—but more specifically about how I’ve decided to, well, um.”

“Spit it out, Izuku,” Ochako encouraged.

Izuku sucked in a long breath, glancing from Katsuki to Yagi and back again.

“I’ve decided that Katsuki will be the next successor of One for All! And I’m glad he’s here right now, even though I know you’ve met him in the past. I want you to see who he is now. I’m not seeking your approval, but I can give you a list of why I chose Kacchan in the case that you don’t approve. But I know you see it too. How much he’s grown in such a short amount of time.” Izuku stopped his chatter to inhale deeply for a moment, and then his earnest expression of pure determination and hardiness returned to his face, “You really weren’t that great of a teacher, but please guide me even further and help me mentor him!”

Yagi blinked at Midoriya. And so did Katsuki because who the fuck was this guy?

“I wasn’t a bad teacher,” Yagi murmured, arms crossed petulantly.

“What the fuck is going on?” Katsuki growled, frustrated because he was so damn confused.

Izuku chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, “I guess I didn’t fully complete the introductions. Kacchan,” He said, eyes piercing Katsuki’s, “This is All Might.”

Katsuki gaped.




All Might, Katsuki’s idol growing up, explained to Katsuki a little more fully just what the hell One for All was and how important of a responsibility it was to bear its power as if Katsuki didn’t already know. He also cautioned him not to underestimate the Villain Alliance. Izuku ate all of the man’s words up like it was his first time hearing it himself.

By the time All Might was done, Katsuki had even more questions but no time to ask them.

“Fuck,” He sighed, glancing at his watch, “I’ve got to get my ass to practice or coach will beat me—so will Shinsou.”

Yagi nodded, standing up and towering over them all. He directed a small smile towards Bakugou and clapped a large hand on his shoulder.

“It really is great to see you again, young Bakugou,” He said, and Katsuki suddenly saw the same man—not in his appearance, but in his demeanor—who’d been his teacher at U.A., who saved him when he was a fourteen-year-old brat from a villain intent on killing him. “You’ve grown into quite the mature young man. Keep those two in line, wouldja?” He gestured with his thumb to Ochako and Izuku.

“Yes, sir,” He said, resisting the urge to hug the man—the hero who had taught him so much even if he was just now realizing it.

“It was good to see you, Yagi,” Ochako chirped, hugging All Might like he was that one uncle everyone loved, “Come around more often!”

Izuku kissed her, then kissed Katsuki, and he and Yagi waved goodbye as they snuck out of the office.