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Bakugo never shuts up, even right after they’ve just been captured during an internship patrol by a crime syndicate, and forcibly restrained and quirk-suppressed, with no chance of escape.
He barrages insults at the hulking villain currently chaining him to a column. Todoroki, Deku and Kirishima are already set up, their arms forced in an outspread position and layers of metal wrapped around them at waist-level. With the columns a few feet apart Deku can at least turn his head and watch hopelessly as Bakugo continues to struggle.
Todoroki is quiet on Deku’s left. On Deku’s right is Kirishima, with Bakugo being fixed onto the right-most end, next to the redhead. Only that part’s not working out so well, as the villain in charge of Bakugo can’t seem to keep him secured.
“Will you shut his damn mouth up, Spike? I’m trying to think,” The lankier of the pair snaps.
They’re at the mercy of two villains. Spike, the one handling Bakugo is a mutant that reminds Deku of a troll: taller and wider than even Hound Dog, his skin has a grayish tinge and his eyes are black and empty. He doesn’t talk much. Whereas the thinner one could pass for an eviler Best Jeanist, similarly tall and sinewy. Deku heard Spike refer to him as “Juta” earlier. Even his silky smooth voice resembles Jeanist’s, but Juta’s hair is longer, hanging loosely around his pointed face like silver curtains.
They’ve been held hostage by an obvious brawn and brains pairing. Though Deku has been keeping an eye out for their quirks, and he hasn’t gotten any hints yet.
Spike punches Bakugo in the side and the blonde is winded, only for a moment, before he grins devilishly and starts prattling off again. “You think that weak shit could phase me? Ha! My grandma can punch stronger than that…” He finally stops talking after taking a knee to the stomach.
“Two hours ‘til your quirk suppressants wear off,” Juta says. Deku happens to be close enough to hear him speaking softly, perhaps to himself. “And two hours ‘til we can rendezvous with...” Deku doesn’t catch the rest. Juta looks around at them then smiles. “Well!” His hands clap together, calling their attention. “I guess we’ll have to entertain ourselves until Spike and I make our grand escape. Any ideas?”
Deku’s hopes that Bakugo will stay quiet (for once) are quickly dashed. “Here’s an idea, asshole,” shouts Bakugo, still trying to worm his away out of Spike’s punishing grip. “You let me fight you one on one! Or are you so pathetic that you can’t even handle me with my quirk suppressed?”
Juta stares at him, a wan smile on his face. It does nothing to conceal the dangerous gleam in his eye.
The alarm bells started ringing in Deku’s mind a while back. When they were first subdued, Juta had been quite handsy with Bakugo. He had taken his time peeling off his grenadier bracers, smirking in the same discomforting way he was doing now. And in that short period of time, a pattern emerged regarding his preoccupation with Bakugo. His gaze would rake up and down his body constantly in a manner that unsettled Deku to his core. There was probably a reason he had specifically ordered Spike to tie up Bakugo last.
His worst fears are confirmed when Juta, continuing to sport that mad grin, gazes at Bakugo, and slowly cocks his head. “Someone’s feisty. You know what, fuck it. Spike, let’s play with that one. Bring him here.”
Deku usually admires Bakugou’s brazenness but in this moment he absolutely resents it, for Bakugo actually laughs in triumph – like he’s proud to have been the one picked, interpreting it as a sign that he’s stronger than the rest – but the real reason may be far more sinister if Deku’s hunch is true.
“Fortunately, I have a thing for blondes.”
And Bakugo still isn’t listening, busy insulting the mutant (“You fucking ugly shit, how many mirrors do you break a day just by looking into them—”) who’s now busy tying Bakugo’s hands in front of him. Cuffs are snapped onto his wrists, separated by a thin chain. He begins hauling Bakugo toward Juta.
“Well? Why not take these off and make this a fair fight?” Bakugo asks, brandishing his bound hands.
“Who said I wanted to fight?” Juta asks. “I just wanted to talk.”
“Hah?” Bakugo has the gall to look disappointed. “If you think you’re gonna get any secrets out of me—”
“God,” Juta snickers, eyes narrowed with mirth. “You’re cute, you know that? I think you and I are gonna have loads of fun.”
The air is changing – Deku can feel it. He wants to tell Bakugo to run, but knows, deep down, that that wouldn’t do anything. The restraints won’t budge, and all he can do is stand there, heart hammering, as he watches the situation rapidly spin out of control.
“The fuck did you call me?”
“Are you seeing anyone? One of them,” Juta gestures at Deku and the other two. “Perhaps?”
“What?”
“I’m asking if one of these guys is your boyfriend. Or do they just take turns sticking their cocks in you whenever you get mouthy? Because otherwise I don’t know how they can stand you, to be honest.”
Bakugo snarls, hackles raised. “What the hell are you—”
“It’s the green-haired one, isn’t it?” Juta glances at Deku again. “He called you a cutesy nickname, therefore he must be your boyfriend. What was it again, Spike?”
“Kacchan,” supplies Spike.
“Kacchan, right. Or, it could be the… Redhead?” He even strokes at his chin, like he’s figuring out the answer to a riddle. “He seems the most angry right now just from me talking to you.” The rest reflexively turn to Kirishima, whose glare only intensifies, teeth bared.
“Cut the crap,” Bakugo says. “Enough about them. This is between you and me.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. Tell me then, Kacchan, does UA have sex ed classes?”
The question stuns them all into silence. Juta continues. “I’m guessing that’s a no? Or you just haven’t gotten around to taking it yet. Well, we’ve got our work cut out for us then—”
Seemingly out of nowhere, a memory from the past hits Deku with the force of a freight train. He’s taken back to one of their ‘Captured by Villain’ lectures. It was one of the only times the class had been segregated by sex, boys taught a different material from girls’. When he checked Uraraka’s notes afterward, he learned why. The truth had horrified him: how there was often a sexual aspect to the way villains interacted with women. Whereas men were often confronted with physical torture, or threats to their family or principles, female heroes had to be trained on to dealing with lecherous advances of their captors.
Juta hasn’t mentioned family, or principles, or anything else at all… His primary focus has been on Bakugo and Bakugo alone.
Deku shouts, trying to draw attention to himself. Bakugo may be in grave danger, of course he has to do something—
“Leave Kacchan alone! Take me instead!”
Bakugo doesn’t even turn around to look at him. “Shut the fuck up, Deku, I’m handling it,” he says dismissively. Deku swears, panicking more and more at the realization that Bakugo has bitten off more than he could chew, with no idea of what’s coming.
Juta’s smile turns predatory. “So you haven’t had sex? No one’s, how do we say this… Popped your cherry?” He’s openly leering at Bakugo now, drawing closer. “Based on the look on your face, I’m guessing that’s a no. Today really is my lucky day.”
“Stop going on and on about shit that doesn’t ma—” Juta grabs him and crushes their lips together.
Kirishima’s yelling something beside Deku, he’s not sure what, as he’s too busy shouting himself.
Bakugo shoves Juta back, eyes wide. “What—”
It must be finally sinking in for Bakugo that perhaps running his mouth might not be the best angle here, because he stands mutely in place, wiping his lips with disgust. Juta just peers down at him, chuckling. “I’m gonna cut you some slack since that was your first but wow, your make-out skills need a lot of work.”
He doesn’t even react to Bakugo glaring, just continues to monologue in that smarmy tone that Deku’s dying to beat out of him. “You know of the baseball metaphor, right? Scratch that, probably not.”
“It’s more of an American thing, so I’ll tell you: each base represents a degree of physical intimacy; the higher, the more intimate.” He closes the distance between himself and Bakugo until they’re chest to chest and he can use his height advantage to intimidate him. “That poor excuse for a kiss didn’t even get us to base one, I’m afraid. I’m gonna need you to be a little more enthusiastic. Open your mouth a little, use some tongue. Wrap your arms around my neck.”
Bakugo crosses his arms. “And why should I do that?”
“This is why.” He reaches for something at his side. Everyone realizes too late what it is, for Juta aims at Todoroki and immediately fires. The bang leaves Deku’s ears ringing. There are shouts from all of them, and he watches with terror as Todoroki doubles up, head slumped forward, groaning in pain. Deku yells his name, seeing a spot of red blossoming from his pantleg.
“I’m fine,” Todoroki insists between gulps of air. “Don’t worry about me,” he says, attempting to sound casual, though the pain in his voice remains evident.
“I was actually aiming for his arm, but… Close enough.” Juta says, shrugging and placing the gun back in its holster. “So if you want your friends to leave here with all their limbs intact and their brain matter not splattered all over the floor, I suggest you start cooperating, gorgeous.” He winks.
“Don’t,” Bakugo breathes. “Don’t hurt them then.”
“If you do as I say, I won’t. Now come over here and give Daddy some sugar, will you?”
Bakugo swallows, looking torn. Then nods slowly. “Don’t!” Deku pleads again. But Bakugo doesn’t even bother to address him this time. Juta doesn’t move, simply stands there with his oily grin, waiting for Bakugo with open arms. A form of powerplay, forcing Bakugo to be the one to initiate.
Bakugo takes those last few weighty steps to get to Juta. In Deku’s eyes, he might as well be walking toward his own ruin.
The villain still does nothing as Bakugo stops before him, in a mimicry of their stances earlier. Tentatively, he raises his bound hands, slipping them around Juta’s neck. His lip curls from the unpleasant sensation of Juta’s hands enveloping his waist.
With a snarl, Bakugo pulls against the chain between his hands, tugging Juta down and smashing their mouths together. Juta makes an approving noise, hands sordidly roaming Bakugo’s body. But Bakugo holds his own, or tries to anyway, and Deku sees a flash of his tongue as their lips momentarily part for breath. Bakugo attempts to draw back, only for Juta to envelop his mouth again and swallow up his gasp.
Juta growls, his grip on Bakugo turning white-knuckled. He grabs the back of his thighs and lifts the blond with surprising ease. Bakugo’s squawk is muffled by the lips ensnaring his, Juta guiding his legs to wrap around his waist. Indignance flares within Deku at the crude way Juta ruts against him, the possessive way he grips the back of Bakugo’s head to keep him in place, before roughly depositing him onto a nearby table. It’s wooden, the kind used for large meetings and therefore almost as wide as it is long.
“Much better,” Juta says, and he dives toward Bakugo again. A momentary look of disgust flashes across the latter’s face. He tries to move his head to the side to avoid Juta’s assault, but Juta just grabs his chin and forces their mouths together with increasing ferocity, ignoring Bakugo’s attempts to rebuff him.
A loud (and gross, in Deku’s opinion) smacking noise is heard by all when Juta finally releases Bakugo’s now plump mouth. He instead starts to lick up the blond’s cheek, ignoring his reflexive cringe. Determined to mark every inch of him, Juta tugs him close and nibbles on an earlobe. Bakugo can’t really do anything other than shake from anger – or maybe fear – and take it.
Juta readjusts them, moving to sit on the table with Bakugo sitting on his lap, legs perched across his thighs. It strikes Deku how young and vulnerable Bakugo is compared to the grotesque man cradling him. The hero looks disconcerted by what just happened, how he ended up in a childlike position in Juta’s arms. Deku curls his hands into fists and he pulls, but his arms won’t move an inch. In a moment of abject frustration, he knocks his head back against the pillar with a groan.
“First base.” Bakugo, face unusually flushed, casts the other male a quizzical look. Juta strokes his hair, grinning. “That was first base, sweetheart. And what a spectacular performance that was. Bravo. Now, before we continue,” Continue? Deku’s heart drops. Bakugo’s face falls, confusion quickly overtaken by dread. “Let me take care of these.” He grabs the spiky edges of Bakugo’s mask. “You could take someone’s eye out, you know.”
“That’s the idea,” Bakugo spits out. Juta snaps them off, reducing the pointy ends to short black stubs. They’re left jutting out of Bakugo’s hair unevenly.
“I prefer it like this,” Juta says, fondling the mask’s disfigured ends. He’s taking obvious delight in breaking Bakugo’s costume, and by extension, breaking Bakugo. “Could use these as handlebars later.”
Turning his attention back to the figure on his lap, Juta lowers his hands to Bakugo’s stomach. Try as he might, Bakugo can’t move away – his hands are still looped around Juta’s neck due to the cuffs. He looks livid at his captivity. “Fuck, you’re hot.” Bakugo grumbles at getting felt up yet again. Long fingers clamp around his waist and squeeze. “Just look at that insane shoulder-to-waist ratio. I can’t believe you’re mine—”
“Not yours, fucker.”
“And still so mouthy even with a literal gun to your head,” Juta says, laughing. “You’re absolutely perfect, love. What other firsts could I take from you, I wonder?” Bakugo pales. “How ‘bout your first hickey?” And he takes, sucking a bruise into Bakugo’s throat. The blond’s fists clench but remain trapped, leaving him squirming with Juta’s face buried in his neck.
“Nghh, stop—”
“Kiss me again, then,” With a look of utter misery, Bakugo relents straightaway. Their tongues tangle together again. Deku recoils at the uncanniness of the scene before him. If any stranger came across the two right now and saw them entwined like that, they probably would describe it as passionate – as if they were happily in love, enthusiastically demonstrating their desire for each other.
And that’s what makes it even more fucked up. Bakugo’s good at everything after all, so even he can make a kiss that’s been forced on him look sensual. But he’s clearly dying inside – his pained microexpressions are enough of a giveaway that he’s doing all this under duress. It makes Deku’s skin crawl, watching Juta’s hand run down Bakugo’s spine, the other maintaining a vice-like grip on his hair. Deku wants to melt into the floor; guilt claws at him, because he’s not even the victim here. How can Bakugo stand this…?
Bakugo’s face is filled with pure revulsion when Juta’s hands descend and cup his ass.
“Shit. You’ve really got me going, babe,” Juta wheezes. He decides to grant Bakugo (limited) use of his arms, removing them from around his neck. Hunger-filled eyes now fixate on Bakugo’s chest. The corners of his mouth tilt upward into an unnerving smile. “Now lift up your shirt. Show us your tits.”
“I’m not a fucking girl,” Bakugo says heatedly.
“Oh? Then what are these?” He grabs one of Bakugo’s breasts, squeezing.
“They’re pecs, you moron—”
“Feels an awful lot like tits to me. Flash ‘em, c’mon. Don’t be shy.”
Bakugo freezes. With a growl of frustration, he grips the bottom of his shirt with both hands. He lowers his gaze, determinedly avoiding eye contact with anyone else, then starts to tug it upwards, exposing milky skin and a well-defined torso. Juta makes him bite down on the edge of his shirt, keeping it pulled up so his chest stays uncovered.
Ravenous, the villain explores the newly exposed flesh. Bakugo spasms, teeth gritted, as he is poked and prodded, Juta forcefully pinching his nipple. “So soft they’re mouth-watering,” he sighs. “Ever had your tits sucked, Kacchan?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer, but shunts Bakugo back against the table’s surface instead. Despite his outcry, the blond is pinned down with a resounding thump, Juta clambering on top of him. More thumps echo as Bakugo thrashes, kicking futilely against wood.
“Dooon’t!” Bakugo says, willing the desperation out of his voice. But Juta is relentless; the blond’s objections just seem to goad him further. He busies himself licking at Bakugo chest and suckling at any unblemished patch of skin he can find.
“You’re bitching at me like a girl. You’re squirming like one, too. You even sorta look like one when you’re not making those ugly faces. Look at those adorable cheeks and eyelashes.”
“Fuck off!” Bakugo tries to shove him off again, unsuccessfully. His protests deteriorate into squeaks as Juta bites down on a nipple. He bucks up, squirming, but Juta continues his assault. “N-no!” Bakugo gasps, eyes flying open as his tanktop rips down the middle. Juta lifts his head up to slide the metal collar out from other him, before sweeping it off the table. It lands somewhere off with a clatter.
Ignoring the yelps and hands frantically shoving at his chest, Juta grabs the chain dangling between Bakugo’s wrists and pins it above Bakugo’s head, dragging his arms up and keeping them extended. The action earns him a litany of frustrated noises from Bakugo, Juta’s teeth worrying at his skin and delighting at each outraged sound he manages to extract from the male under him. Deku looks desperately, at Todoroki and Kirishima, who are frozen against the pillars, equally appalled. Todoroki, blinking his eyes, furious, and Kirishima’s jaw hanging open in disbelief.
Juta pulls Bakugo back into a sitting position, showing off his work proudly to the rest of the room. Deku wants to break down and cry at the sight of him. Hickeys blemish his neck and torso, his nipples puffy, skin mottled. Juta made sure to mark him thoroughly. His chest is decorated with bruises and bite marks (with some so deep that the skin has broken). Even his face is in a similar state: lips swollen and bloody, eyes bloodshot. Deku knows that look – the same one back on the first day of combat training, when Bakugo was on the verge of a breakdown. True enough, his breathing is shallow and quick, mouth slightly open as he gulps for air.
“Such a pretty little debauched hero,” Juta says, nuzzling his face into Bakugo’s bare shoulder. “Isn’t he, Spike? You’re gonna love him.”
“Can’t wait,” Spike says, face twisted in an ugly smile. It’s repulsive, the way they talk about Bakugo like he’s their next meal. Juta winds his arm around Bakugo’s waist and draws him close, this time with little resistance. Deku’s stomach churns from the affectionate gesture from Juta, clearly tormenting Bakugo under the guise of familiarity. Bakugo’s hardly fighting back now; Deku can’t blame him. It’s either obey or die.
“Let’s have a little pop quiz,” Juta says. “Kacchan, can you tell me what a blowjob is?”
“Blowjob?” Bakugo repeats, trying to glower but failing to conceal his bewilderment. He looks absolutely lost.
Deku has a sinking feeling that, coupled with all the instances he’s just witnessed of Bakugo seeming oblivious to sexual advances, it’s become increasingly apparent Bakugo has never so much as glanced at porn. Which makes sense – all he’s ever obsessed over is hero work. As a result, Deku’s revulsion at the situation is tinged with the tiniest smidge of secondhand embarrassment.
“Holy fuck, this is priceless.” Juta closes his eyes in disbelief. “Can’t believe we landed ourselves a bombshell as pure as you. You’ve never sucked cock, really? With those dick-sucking lips of yours?”
“I’m—I’m a boy—”
“’I’m a boy’, he says. Think that’s some magic phrase to stop you from getting fucked? You could call yourself All Might and that still wouldn’t stop my dick from coming down your throat.”
“Fuck you—” Bakugo starts to say, but Juta is already lifting his suit jacket, tapping at the gun at his belt.
“On your knees. In front of me, now. Don’t make me repeat myself, angel.”
Cautiously, Bakugo drops to the floor, turning his back to Deku, and slumps, despondent, between Juta’s thighs.
“Yes. Perfect.” Deku hates the look of pure thrill on Juta’s face. It’s obvious that he’s comitting the image of a shirtless, ravaged and subservient Bakugo to memory. He loosens his belt, unbuttons his trousers. His dick is long and curved. The sight of it makes Bakugo freeze. Juta wraps his hand around it, stroking it to full hardness.
“Bet you’ve never even seen another man’s dick. Is it bigger than you expected?”
“No,” Bakugo says, petulant. Juta laughs in response.
“Then you should have no problem sucking it.”
A hand cups the back of Bakugo’s head, nudging him toward Juta’s crotch and leaving Bakugo with no room to disobey. “Open wide, sweetie. Make sure your teeth don’t scrape me, alright? Breathe through your nose if you have to. Don’t look so afraid of it, Jesus. How can I stay hard with you looking so miserable? It’s not gonna bite, you know.”
Deku can’t take it anymore. Even if he can’t see it in full detail, he feels compelled to close his eyes the moment he sees Bakugo lowering his head. Then comes the distinctive sounds of Bakugo’s lips sliding over Juta’s cock.
Juta hums in pleasure. “Ohhh, that’s nice. Knew your filthy mouth would look good wrapped around my dick.” He spouts more raunchy lines as Bakugo continues, but grows bored of the proceedings rather quickly. When Deku opens his eyes again, Juta’s grabbed at both the ends of Bakugo’s mask to dictate the motion himself, by tugging the blond’s head back and forth. Suddenly the handlebars comment from earlier makes a lot of sense. At varying intervals Juta pulls Bakugo in so tightly that his face is squashed against his pelvis. He lets Bakugo thrash for a few seconds before letting go.
“What the hell,” Bakugo says, sputtering. Juta just laughs and does it again. “It’s called deepthroating, babe. And you’re surprisingly good, for a beginner.” He seems eager to switch things up on the fly, preferring to manhandle Bakugo according to whatever novel idea comes to him.
“You’re still using too much teeth. I’m gonna have to facefuck you ‘til you get it right.” Grip secure on the sides of Bakugo’s mask, he grunts and yanks him toward his crotch, appearing to relish that it leaves Bakugo choking, unaccustomed to feeling a dick hitting the back of his throat. Juta develops a rhythm much rougher and faster than before, ignoring the stifled cries that tumble out of Bakugo’s abused throat. Throwing his head back, he lets out a howl as he jerks one final time against the mouth on his dick, lost in the throes of orgasm.
“MMnnggh!” Bakugo gurgles helplessly. Juta’s elation morphs into amusement as he purposely sustains his grip, cementing Bakugo’s face to his crotch.
“Swallow it all down. That’s a good slut.” He pats him and lets go. Bakugo collapses to the floor, groaning audibly. His stomach heaves, and he rolls over on his side to vomit everything back out.
As soon as he’s done, Juta is quick to grab him, slapping him hard in the face and causing Bakugo to yell in pain. It leaves him flat on the ground again, cheek already purpling as he looks up at Juta with pure, unbridled hate. “Wrong move, Kacchan,” Juta says, fuming. “No one wants to see their partner vomiting after sucking their dick. It’s rude. I’m gonna have to give you a failing grade for not doing as you were told.” Bakugo’s shoulders tense but he stays quiet.
“Since the sperm that was supposed to be in your belly is now all over the floor, we’re gonna have to redo this.”
“What?” Bakugo croaks.
“Oh, yeah,” Juta says, tone dripping with malevolence while he cards a hand through Bakugo’s hair. “Now you gotta crawl over to your three fuckbuddies over there. And suck each of their dicks. One. By. One.” The remaining color drains from Bakugo’s face.
“Make sure they come. Swallow all of it. No throwing up. Or else.”
“Can’t I… Just suck yours again?” Bakugo mutters.
“Oh, cutie. Sweet of you, but no. You and my dick have plenty of time to become acquainted, but this is a punishment. Besides, they deserve a reward for their honorable attendance, since they paid damn close attention even without seeing the wonderful things you did with your mouth.” He shoves him in their direction. “They shouldn’t feel left out, yeah? Now get going, babe.” With one final smack on Bakugo’s ass, he laughs. “And remember: crawl.”
Deku distantly wonders how long it’s been, if they were approaching the two-hour mark. If so, he’ll have his quirk back in time… In time to beat Juta so badly that he won’t be able to lift a finger to ever touch Bakugo again. But the fantasy doesn’t last, because no matter how much he wills it, nothing happens when he tries to channel his quirk.
Bakugo clambers toward Kirishima first, on his hands and knees. Deku refuses to watch, secretly wishing they’d be quiet… So that he wouldn’t have to hear…
“Bakugo, I’m so sorr—”
“Shut up.”
Kirishima’s whines are quickly replaced by licking sounds. Deku grimaces; he can hear everything, down to Bakugo breathing through his nose as he takes in as much of Kirishima’s cock as he can. Horrified by the prospect of Bakugo having to do him next, he looks the other way. The noises are getting louder, drowned out by Juta’s obnoxious laughter.
“Look at him go! Think he has a crush on that one, Spike.” Spike sniggers. “Hey Red!” Juta calls out. “Open your eyes and look down. Don’t waste the view.”
Deku’s doesn’t find out whether Kirishima ends up opening his eyes. But he eventually comes. At least, Deku thinks he does, because the slurping abruptly ceases and he hears Bakugo choking, fighting to keep his gag reflex down. Out of the corner of his eye Deku watches his bare shoulders shaking from the effort of it. Then Bakugo returns his attention to Kirishima and even zips him back up, to which Juta coos at what a lovely couple they’d make.
And then Bakugo appears before him, eye-level with Deku’s groin. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even look up at him as his trembling fingers unzip his trousers and pull out his cock. All Deku can see is the top of his white-blond hair. He’s half-hard when Bakugo puts his mouth on him and does nothing else, waiting for his cock to swell to full size (it does, immediately). Deku jumps at the sudden warmth around his length. Bakugo starts.
He can’t fight the groan that escapes his lips. Bakugo seems to want to get this over with as possible because he really is going for it. Deku’s hips buck forward of their own accord, dick nudging the base of Bakugo’s throat repeatedly and it feels amazing. Again and again and again—
A fist knocks against his pelvis and he freezes.
“Kacchan?”
“Quit moving, you dumb—” Bakugo doesn’t even finish his sentence before enveloping Deku’s cock with his lips again. Deku fights to stay still, but there’s a heat building rapidly in his lower regions and he can’t help it. His eyes are rolling up into his skull. He has to come, needs to, so Bakugo can be done with this and attend to Todoroki. The last thing he wants is to prolong his suffering.
Turns out he doesn’t need to force himself to. Bakugo being a fast learner is expected. He can hold Deku’s entire dick in his throat, demonstrating that talent with every bob of his head. Before he knows it, Deku’s coming (a lot, he realizes guiltily). Bakugo huffs in protest, nostrils flaring, but swallows.
A few drops of come leak from the corners of his mouth. Deku almost considers pointing that out, but the peristaltic movement of Bakugo’s throat rattles his dick as it surges, overwhelming him and rendering him speechless. He almost says something stupid like ‘thank you’, but thinks better of himself. Moments later, Bakugo’s on his hands and knees, retching again. Nothing but air.
So he crawls to Todoroki.
Todoroki swears loudly. “Bakugo, don’t—”
“No choice,” Bakugo interrupts. There’s a metallic clink – Todoroki probably struggling against his restraints – but it’s quickly replaced by quiet gasps and a familiar rhythmic bobbing of slicked lips along Todoroki’s length. Deku’s face burns with recognition. He can still feel Bakugo on him, a tingling waist-down that’s at odds with the shame mounting in his chest.
Todoroki comes in what seems like seconds. His sharp exhale is followed by a peculiar sound, of fabric scratching against fabric. But only when Bakugo withdraws, coughing, turning around to crawl back toward their assailants, does Deku risk glancing to his left. He pointedly avoids looking at Todoroki’s face, staring downward instead. He notices a patch of white where the bullet wound is supposed to be. Hanging from Todoroki’s belt, one of his first aid bottles is open, the bottom half dangling and empty. An auto-tourniquet. He doesn’t even know how Bakugo found the time to do that.
“Anything else?” Bakugo says, in a raspy voice that doesn’t sound like his own.
For a moment, Juta looks pensive. “You know, based on that performance, I think you’re best suited to Scarface over there. Maybe when we’re done here, he’ll grow some balls to ask you out. That is, if he doesn’t mind sloppy fourths. What do you say?”
“Let’s just get this over with. Or are we done?”
Juta’s laughter goes on for far too long. “Oh. No no no, not anywhere close to done. You should know that, sweetcheeks. You made it to third base, and as spectacular as that show was, we still have yet to hit a home run. Now can you tell us what comes next? …Figuratively speaking, of course.”
As the horror begins to dawn on Bakugo’s face, Spike interrupts.
“I’m gettin’ bored of all yout riddles, Juta. Let’s just fuck him already.” He grabs Bakugo (whose face is contorted with fear), dumping him onto the table on his back. Todoroki, Kirishima and Deku immediately renew their struggles. Everyone’s yelling, trying to distract them by any means necessary.
Bakugo is blocked from view by Spike’s broad back, hunched over him on the table. With grim foreboding, the ripping of clothing rents the air, finishing as Spike flings away the remnants of Bakugo’s lower garments. Deku catches a glimpse of his bare legs, still in boots, thrashing and trying to kick out.
“Bakugo!”
“Ah, don’t be too hasty, Spike.” Juta rounds the table and climbs on from the other side, adjusting Bakugo’s body accordingly until his back is nestled in Juta’s lap, with Bakugo forced to look directly up at him. “You’ll get your chance. But first, we need to teach our pretty friend a little something called ‘prep’.”
Spike snorts impatiently but concedes, distancing himself from the table. It gives them the perfect (terrible) view of Bakugo splayed out on the wooden surface, shaking violently with his head knocking against the torso of the man holding him from behind.
Juta’s long fingers curl behind Bakugo’s knees. He makes a show of spreading them, holding the blond’s legs open to properly display every part of him to his friends. Deku stands frozen, sickened. Something unpleasant roiling in his stomach.
Juta whistles appreciatively, running his hands up and down milky thighs. “You ought to show off this stunning body more.” Bakugo says nothing, mortified, and he strains himself trying to close his own legs but Juta won’t relent.
“Stop struggling or else—“(Bakugo stops) “—and listen. We’re going to let you do the honors, okay? Here’s something to help get you started.” Spike approaches them again, bending over between Bakugo’s spread legs.
“No!” Deku calls out in alarm. He expects the worst – but it doesn’t come, because all Spike does is spit. When he vacates the space between Bakugo’s legs, the blond looks downright nauseated. There’s a clear glob of saliva trickling down the cleft of his ass.
Bakugo’s eyes meet Deku’s. It’s heartbreakingly reminiscent of the expression he wore while encased in slime years ago. Deku looks away, repulsed by his own abandonment of his childhood friend; he couldn’t do anything for Bakugo right now, even if he wanted to.
“Go to town,” says Juta, spreading Bakugo’s knees wide. Yet Bakugo, his movements stilted and hands shaky, appears at a complete loss at what to do. His eyes flicker desperately to Deku, again looking for help. “What? Never stretched yourself out before?”
“Fuck no,” Bakugo growls. He cries out as Juta fists his hair, forcing him to bend his neck back to look up at him.
“Don’t take that tone with me, bitch. Now can anyone in the class tell me what our precious Kacchan here has to do next?” No answer.
“No one?” After a pause, he shrugs. “Okay, guess you all want to see him fucked dry then.”
“Kacchan,” Deku exclaims. “Your fingers – you need to use them to rub the…” He doesn’t want to say saliva. “The lubricant in, so that it won’t be as painful when…”
“When what? Finish the sentence, you little dweeb.”
“When you have sex,” he says, face flushing.
“Right in one, kiddo. To be honest, you don’t look like the type who would know that.” Deku turns redder but says nothing. “Well, babe, there’s your answer. Do it.”
“One finger first, Kacchan. And then you can add—”
“Shut up!” Bakugo says, eyes squeezed shut in a grimace.
He tries. Watched by everyone in the room, he stretches his cuffed arms between his spread legs. His index finger is trailing down past his own dick. It’s an awkward position, doubly worse with his lack of familiarity with the concept. There’s no sound other than the clinking of his cuffs as he gropes for his own hole. He finds it, pressing one finger in. Brows furrow, brimming with sweat. He inhales, then adds a second. Both are half-way in now. Then… He stills, fingers sunken into himself, barely. Unmoving.
His feeble attempts just aren’t working. Deku’s eyes flutter closed, fighting to hold back tears. This is too much. He can’t handle the villains’ cruelty, at the way they use Bakugo’s inexperience against him and get off on it.
A bang goes off and Deku snaps his eyes open.
To their collective horror, Spike is standing, gun raised. The last shot had been aimless, but now his gun points at Bakugo, while glaring at Deku and the rest. “If any of you three shits try and look away again, the next bullet is going straight up his ass.”
“Thank you, Spike. Now go ahead and continue, dollface.” Bakugo tries, again, but it’s still ineffective; his hands are shakier than ever as he half-heartedly fucks himself.
“What are you, twelve?” Spike grunts in impatience, grabbing Bakugo’s fingers and shoving them in. Bakugo gasps, trying to retract them, but his hand is being crushed in Spike’s, being made to penetrate himself deeper.
“Like this,” he says, forcing them in, then out, amidst Bakugo’s gritted teeth and muted cries of pain. “Fuck yourself like you mean it.” Spike lets go to watch Bakugo’s second attempt. He agonizingly drives two fingers into himself, then slowly pulls them out. And stops.
“That’s it?” Spike snaps.
Even Juta looks disappointed. He sighs, releasing Bakugo’s legs. “If you’re not gonna take prep seriously then your loss, I guess. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“No! I don’t know how to—I’m not—not done,” Bakugo stammers desperately. “Don’t!”
“Not my problem,” grunts Spike, as Juta slips off the table. Spike takes his place, unceremoniously grabbing Bakugo by the shoulders and jostling him around, so that his head faces Deku. The blond is still protesting as his legs are maneuvered to the other side. The mutant steps between his legs, tugging Bakugo closer by the ankle. His dick is already out, and in a split-second he grunts, ramming into Bakugo with a hard shove.
Bakugo screams, long and hard. His back arches so high up off the table that Deku sees his face for a moment, upside down and slack-jawed with his eyes wide, pupils reduced to slits from the sheer agony of it. Deku’s vision blurs with tears.
Bakugo flops back down, panting heavily but Spike grants him no respite. He slides Bakugo back and forth across the table, setting up a punishing rhythm. Deku hears Todoroki moan in despair beside him. He bites his own lip far too hard and pain explodes in his mouth, blood trickling down his chin.
“Stop it!” Kirishima cries to no avail.
“Pause,” Juta says, with a hint of boredom in his voice. Spike snorts but halts all the same, extracting his dick and walking away.
“Unhh,” is all Bakugo manages to say, curled on his side. His hands are hovering protectively between his legs, inadvertently smudging the blood on his inner thighs.
When Spike rounds the table toward them, he looks downright smug. His monstrous, grey dick is stiff and coated with crimson. Juta takes his place, pushing Bakugo onto his back again and coaxing his legs apart. He examines the damage and tuts.
“See what I mean? You just had to half-ass it. I don’t think the tearing is significant but… You could’ve avoided this, you know.” He fingers Bakugo’s hole uncaringly.
“Nghhh— stoppp…”
“I can’t, darling. We can’t progress if you don’t learn. Two fingers are just not enough to prepare yourself for a dick, especially when you’re a virgin and the dick looks like that,” he says with a chuckle. “Well, were a virgin, anyway. How does it feel, Kacchan? Your virginity belongs to Spike now.”
Juta’s fingers continue their ministrations. Bakugo swallows, face pinched.
“I said, ‘how does it feel?’”
“…Hurts like hell.”
“That’s better. I’m going to prep you properly and then we’ll try again.” Bakugo makes a terrified noise, as Juta’s fingers dance along his skin. The villain laughs. “No need to look so scared. I’m going to show you something amazing.”
Juta buries his face in between Bakugo’s legs, and the blond howls. He kicks out, but Juta’s hands press down harder on his hips to keep him immobile. “Fucking… Sick,” Bakugo breathes, features screwed up in disgust.
“It’s called rimming, dear, and you should thank me,” murmurs Juta. “You’re not wet enough.” He continues doing… Something… With his tongue. Before replacing it with his fingers and doing something else – something that makes Bakugo blink in confusion, which soon escalates into full-blown panic.
“Aha. There it is.”
“Wh-What—” Bakugo moans, and he’s arching again, gasping. “Stop—”
“Kacchan, meet your prostate,” Juta says wickedly as Bakugo pants with exertion, shoulders rigid. He shifts, trying to put some distance between them, but Juta’s hand lays heavily on his abdomen as the other explores his insides. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
Bakugo shakes his head.
“You’re really asking for it, aren’t you?” Juta stops, looking at him calmly.
With a smirk, he raises his hands. His fingers rapidly transfigure themselves into long, white tentacles. They’re prehensile, whipping around to wrap Bakugo’s wrists and pin them over his head. Two more tentacles slither up his chest seemingly with a mind of their own; two more accomplish spreading his thighs. With a muffled outcry, Bakugo gags on the tentacle thrust into his mouth.
“Hnnngg!”
He is locked into place, body rocked up and down as Juta’s thumb – now a tentacle thicker than the rest – slips into his ass with an undulating motion.
“Enjoying my quirk, beautiful?” Juta asks, leisurely sitting back to let his tentacles do all the work. “I was never supposed to show it to you but you looked like you needed it.” Bakugo bucks up. His dick is hard and leaking, a tentacle wrapped around its base. “I think you’ve stopped bleeding, so…”
The tentacle in his ass withdraws.
“So the thing about sex that I was going to teach you, before Spike here jumped the gun—” Juta climbs onto the table once more, Bakugo spread out before him, writhing from the tentacles’ assault. He’s barely listening, glassy-eyed from the myriad of sensations, so Juta pats him on the cheek.
“Hey! Listen to me. There’s more to it than just a cock in your ass, you know. Sex positions matter. You’ve got to pick a favorite so let’s run through them. You had a taste of missionary courtesy of Spike, but let’s see… It feels different when—”
He grabs Bakugo’s ankles and lifts them, spreading his legs into a V as he slams his cock into the warmth of his ass. “—When you move certain muscles like this, it can make you much tighter – holy shit, you are tight,” he says breathless. “Fuckin’ amazing. Does that feel good?”
“Mfffm!” Bakugo moans, shaking his head. His cock is redder now, leaking copious amounts of fluid.
“I know, right? Good thing you’re flexible.” Juta pushes Bakugo’s legs wider as he snaps his hips again. Bakugo throws his head back, wriggling and screaming into the tentacle fucking his mouth.
“See how you clamp down on my dick when you’re like this? Answer me.” Spare tentacles tap at Bakugo’s cheeks, calling his attention.
Bakugo nods furiously.“Here’s another of my favorites. Your friends’ll like this one.” The tentacles retract. He angles Bakugo onto his side. Deku squints, willing his eyes to unfocus as their classmate’s body is sadistically flaunted at them, laid out in a shameless display. Juta is propped up on one elbow behind Bakugo, and he eyes Deku smugly as he hoists up one of the blond’s legs and drives his cock into Bakugo’s dripping hole. Bakugo moans, body sliding against Juta’s behind him. His face is easily visible now, contorting with ill-restrained pleasure.
“Feel free to offer suggestions,” Juta calls out to the three of them, snickering at the identical glares he receives in return. Bakugo reaches out for them with his tied hands in what appears to be a laughable escape attempt. His expression says differently though, screaming arousal: eyes glazed and blush high on his cheeks, as he pants openly with every thrust. Deku’s skin grows hot.
(This is wrong, wrong…)
“No ideas, really?” Juta looks miffed at their silence “After all, we want to make sure Kacchan here—” and he punctuates each word with a thrust that leaves Bakugo writhing. “—enjoys—” (Bakugo yelps) “—himself.”
Juta sighs contentedly, slowing down and stroking Bakugo’s hair almost lovingly. He nudges the blond, pulling back so that only the head of his dick is in Bakugo’s stretched out hole.
“Describe how it feels, Kacchan.”
“Don’t like it,” Bakugo gasps.
“Liar,” he says, slotting himself back into his ass, straight to the hilt. “You’re moaning like a whore. Fuck, your ass won’t even let my dick back out. You love it.”
He never lets Bakugo get comfortable, straining and manipulating his body according to his whims. Adjusting their positions, he moves forward until his lower legs dangling off the table, and plops Bakugo on his lap, back to chest, before sinking the blond down on his cock. Then he lies down on the wooden surface, head pillowed in his hands, looking utterly relaxed.
His hips snap up; Bakugo bounces from the impact. Noticing that he’s directly facing Deku and the rest, Bakugo averts his eyes.
“This one’s called reverse cowgirl. It’s your turn to do all the work, babe. We’re not stopping until you come. No hands.”
Bakugo’s face crumples with defeat. He slumps down in exhaustion, the chains on his wrists rattling noisily. Until the smack on his ass makes him jump.
“Move that perky ass of yours, and ride my cock like your friends’ lives depend on it. Which, may I remind you, they do,” Juta says smugly.
With no alternative, Bakugo moves. It’s slow at first, as he figures out a rhythm. But being a fast learner helps, even in a situation like this. With newfound understanding, he adjusts himself, leaning forward slightly. He makes sure to push off on his knees as hauls himself up. The base of Juta’s cock is visible as Bakugo hovers over it, the rest of it spearing him open. He plants his hands flat on the table for leverage, right in between Juta’s spread legs. And then pivots back down again, cramming himself full of Juta’s cock. His face breaks into relief.
Bakugo keeps his eyes closed (Deku can’t blame him), his moans increasing in volume as he rides Juta, motions becoming smoother and steadier. After a couple of tries, he appears to have found his own sweet spot, and advances to slamming himself down on Juta’s cock and rolling his hips. Lost in the sensation, his lips part in a soundless cry. All thoughts of Deku, Todoroki and Kirishima being able to see him have been disregarded as Bakugo races toward his own release.
“That’s what I want to hear,” Juta says tightly. His finger is curled around Bakugo’s hip, though for once he isn’t manhandling him, in favor of stroking his skin appreciatively. “Knew you were a natural.”
As Bakugo’s movements grow more desperate, his entire body begins to shine with sweat, his cock heavy and swaying against his own belly. With one last jolt backwards, he slides down onto Juta’s cock, fists clenched, and throws his head back, moaning long and hard. Come splatters all over his stomach.
Juta is quick to react, sitting up and grabbing Bakugo around the middle. He’s coming, too, face contorted in pleasure as he bucks residually into the tight heat of the body on his lap. Licking his lips, Bakugo twitches from oversensitivity. He recoils upon registering the foreign sensation of come spurting inside him, and tries, weakly, to extricate himself. But Juta clutches him closer, filling him up completely.
Deku’s eyes sting with tears. He hates himself for it – being so pathetic, caving in just from watching – but he’s not allowed to look away. Every detail is seared into his memory: the sight of excess come dribbling out of Bakugo’s spent hole, despite still being plugged up with dick, leaves him nauseated.
In a blink, it all changes.
There’s a scuffle, and then a clatter. Bakugo rolls off the table, landing on the floor hard with his side. Juta quickly follows, enraged. A loud slam has Bakugo screaming, not from pain but exasperation.
His hands are outstretched, away from his body, holding something. But Juta’s foot is crushing Bakugo’s fingers, along with the gun clutched in their grip.
“You sneaky cunt,” Juta says darkly, his features now strangely demonic: wild hair and dark eyes, mouth twisted into a snarl. “Thought you could pull one over me? Fucking bitch.” He takes the gun back and lifts Bakugo by the throat. “You want me to fuck you with this? ‘Cause I’ll do it. Answer before I use this gun to whisk the come in your ass.”
“No,” Bakugo gasps.
“Things were going so perfectly. I was being so nice to you, making sure you enjoyed it. I fucking made you come with just my dick, but you had to go and be ungrateful little shit! Agh, I’m pissed off now.” He tosses Bakugo to the floor, then zips up his trousers. Gives Spike a knowing look as he waves him over.
“You deal with him for a bit, Spike. I gotta cool off. You make sure he regrets ever going for my gun. Make it hurt. I want to hear our little hero scream.”
Spike nods. From his pocket he starts pulling out a long silver chain, and proceeds to loop one end of it around Bakugo’s neck to make a choker, before giving the other end an experimental tug.
“No!” Deku shouts. “He can’t take anymore, please, you can do it to me instead!”
“No, me!” Todoroki adds, and Kirishima bellows with him.
Juta scoffs. “You’ve already got front row seats. Shut the fuck up and enjoy the main event.” Deku grinds his teeth. Witnessing Bakugo’s ruination is driving him mad. Yet now he’ll have to watch him subjected to another round of abuse. He searches inwardly for the familiar thrum of his quirk – but there’s still no sign of it, meaning two hours have not elapsed.
Bakugo wheezes, hands scrabbling at the makeshift leash. But Spike forces him onto all fours, and he ends up looking tiny and frail compared to the hulking creature now positioned behind him.
“From that position, he can maximize the use of his quirk. Enjoy, darling. Remember: you asked for this.” Juta spares Bakugo one last pitiful glance before turning away. “All yours, Spike.”
Spike wastes no time wrenching the chain up and strangling Bakugo, while his other hand grabs his ass and holds it steady, cock driving deep into him.
“You’re tighter when you choke,” his deep voice rumbles. Bakugo gags, lifting his hands to grab at the metal around his neck. He realizes his mistake too late: Spike just pulls at his neck further, forcing him to bend backward at an impossible angle. “Also tighter when you’re scared to die.”
“GGu-h,” Bakugo strains, his vocal cords are cut off by the metal around his throat.
“Hey Kacchan,” Spike sneers. “Wanna know why I’m called Spike?”
Without warning, he ceases his thrusts and drops the chain. Bakugo sputters as he catches himself with his palms. His breathing is labored, eyes red and nearly popping out. Using one gargantuan hand, Spike presses down in between his shoulder blades, forcing him into a crouch, ass up. “Here’s why, Kacchan.”
His cock sinks into Bakugo, then a rumbling noise alerts them all to the rippling of his gray skin. Pointy, pyramidal growths explode out of him, protruding from his body all at once and a terrible scream is ripped from Bakugo’s throat as he doubles in on himself. His shrieks are cut off prematurely by Spike pulling the chain again, who begins fucking the blond in earnest. “So damn noisy.”
“I’LL KILL YOU!” Kirishima roars, banging against the metal in his attempt to escape.
“Think your boyfriend’s gettin' jealous,” Spike says, plunging into Bakugo with powerful strokes. Deku spots them: the sharp protrusions are all over the villain’s dick, their tips noticeably bloody. He lets out a sob.
“Now hold still. Gotta come in you.” Spike closes his eyes with a satisfied grunt. Bakugo’s feeble protests go ignored as he’s filled to the brim, wriggling in discomfort from the torrents of liquid gushing inside him. The orgasm seems to go on forever, and when the villain pulls out, his dick is still very much hard, globs of white splashing on the floor between Bakugo’s knees.
“We’re not done, hero.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, he’s pushing his way into Bakugo again, his skin rippling once more. “I call this one ‘ribbed for your pleasure’.” The growths recede, quickly replaced by raised, wavy lines on his flesh. Ridges form all over him from head to foot. Bakugo curls inward, or tries to anyway, but Spike’s hand is heavy on his nape and he bears down, practically crushing him with his weight as he comes a second time.
Bakugo looks down, aghast. Because of his restraints, he can’t separate his hands too far. With great difficulty manages to place one palm against his stomach, cupping it with dismay. Deku notices it, too, the slight bulge there… Growing with every ejaculation…
“Mm, one more. Been practicing this one…” The ridges disappear, quickly replaced by round boils. Spike picks up the chain again and pulls, thwarting Bakugo’s attempts to scramble away. Switching gears, Bakugo instinctively grabs a section of it and holds on.
“Quit it,” Spike says while shaking the chain, annoyed. Their lower regions are still very much connected. Bakugo’s upper half is twisted sideways at an uncomfortable angle, and he clutches the chain like a lifeline to spare himself from being asphyxiated. Spike curses and makes a grab for him. The metal goes taut in the midst their tug of war, and with a roar Spike crushes his meaty fingers around Bakugo’s forearm.
There’s a snap, followed by a cry. Bakugo crumples, nursing his arm. His cheek is pressed against the floor. His teeth are gritted, eyes wide and hazy from the pain, Spike still buried in his ass. The villain has abandoned the leash, probably considering it too troublesome, and grabs Bakugo’s waist, pulling him back and forth on his cock like a ragdoll. He snarls as he comes, huge figure shadowed over Bakugo’s quivering body.
There has to be a limit to this, Deku thinks, sick to his stomach. They can’t possibly do worse… But Juta proves him wrong.
“Fuck, I can’t take it anymore. I’m going back in, Spike.” He’s already joining them, sliding off his pants and underwear. Bakugo makes a terrified noise as he sees the man approaching. A hand thumbs gently along his cheek and he winces, Juta kneeling in front of him.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Juta asks, kissing the spot he just touched. Bakugo gives a tired nod. He is urged onto all fours once more, a much more difficult task now because he can hardly put weight on his broken arm. But Juta coaxes him gently, kissing him to drown out his cries as Spike – whose libido seems to be endless – fucks him from behind. “Apologize.”
“Sor-ry,” he says, barely a whisper.
“For what?”
“…Getting… Your gun.”
“I forgive you, on one condition.” Juta shifts, and Bakugo doesn’t even hesitate, obediently swallowing up the dick in front of his face in one go. Juta moans, straightening up, and the two villains start to move Bakugo back and forth between them, Spike using the chain and Juta gripping the stumps of his mask.
“Say it feels good,” Juta commands.
“Hngkk—” Bakugo tries to move his head back but Juta stops him.
“No. Say it around my cock.”
The resounding gurgle has the two villains laughing as they pull at Bakugo’s flesh, enthusiastically rocking him between both their cocks. With a sharp exhale Spike empties himself in Bakugo’s ass, followed by Juta into his mouth.
He wipes the lingering traces of come off Bakugo’s lips. “Would you look at that. Didn’t even have to remind you to swallow, you just gobbled it up.” Bringing his face close to Bakugo’s, his eyes sparkle mirthlessly as he continues to taunt him. “You’ve what, six loads of come in you now? One from each of your boytoys, four from Spike. Just two from me, since you wasted the first. So that makes how many, Kacchan? Tell me.”
Bakugo’s shoulders start to shake.
“N-nine.”
“Nine what?”
“Nine loads of come in me,” Bakugo says, tears flowing.
“You should be proud,” Juta preens. “You’re so fucking sexy, Kacchan. Tightest ass I’ve ever known, body built for taking cock.” And this just makes Bakugo cry harder. “I think you can take a little more…”
“…Don’t think I…” Bakugo sniffles, shaking his head.
“You don’t get to decide that, babe. I do.”
Bakugo’s expression turns into one of outright panic as Spike picks him up by the thighs and brings him along as he lies backward on the floor. Bakugo’s hands are trapped overhead; the links connecting them are pinned to the floor behind Spike’s neck, leaving his arms (one of them limp) stretched up over his head. His back arches uncomfortably from the mutant tugging him by the choker. He is forced to relent, lying against Spike’s chest.
The mutant fucks into him. Trapped in a tangle of limbs and chains, Bakugo fidgets but is unable to move in any direction. Juta kneels in front of him and hitches Bakugo’s legs over his shoulders.
Deku’s screaming, “Stop, stop, STOP!” but it’s not like anyone even listens. Comprehension dawns on Bakugo as his knees are pressed to his chest. He’s thrashing, but it’s hard to do when you’re pinned in between two much larger people.
“Nooo— I can’t,” he says, voice breaking.
“You will, hon. Stop whining. The only thing I want to hear from you now on is you screaming how much you love it. You got that?” After urging Bakugo into a mating press, he starts pushing in.
They’re fucking Bakugo two-to-one.
“I can’t I can’t I can’t—”
“When I ask how many dicks you can fit in you, the correct answer isn’t ‘I can’t’. You’re supposed to say ‘As many as you want’.” Juta’s dick nudges at Bakugo’s occupied hole, but won’t go further.
“Calm down,” he says, wiggling tentacled fingers in alongside Spike’s dick. “Unless you want to bleed again. I’ve pulled people’s intestines out through their assholes with these, you know. Focus on how good it feels.” Desperate, Bakugo listens to him, or tries to anyway. He moans in fear, shaking his head as his ass is stretched, excruciatingly, around a dick and multiple tentacles. Juta lets him adjust, before pulling out his tentacles and burrowing his cock in alongside another.
The scream ripped out of Bakugo sounds inhuman.
Juta limits himself to short and shallow thrusts. “Oh, that’s real nice,” he says, over Bakugo’s muffled cries. “You’re taking us so well, Kacchan. So good and tight around our cocks.”
Deku is banging his fists on the pillar, seeing nothing but red. He can’t see much – Bakugo obscured by the larger bodies of his rapists – but the villains are ecstatic as they take turns thrusting, determined to wreck Bakugo completely.
Juta is murmuring something in his ear, which turns to be another threat because Bakugo throws his head back at first, eyes shut, but the chain is tightened and he’s coughing.
“Say it,” Juta says. The collar loosens just enough for him to talk.
“Yes, I love your big cocks!” Bakugo shouts hoarsely, his eyes vacant. “Feels so good! F-fuck me harder!”
“And you still call yourself a hero?”
“Nooo, I’m your whore. I’m a – fucking slut,” he says, voice trailing off. “I deserve this!”
“Damn straight,” Spike says, ramming Bakugo as he continues to shudder and cry. Juta plunges his cock in a few more times before coming. This results in a cascading effect, where Bakugo stiffens and recoils, inadvertently tightening around the cocks in him. Spike then follows suit, feeding more come into Bakugo to the point that his ass is teeming with it when they both pull out.
There’s copious amounts of fluid between Bakugo’s legs, dripping out in a steady stream. His mask has slipped down his face, left hanging loosely around his neck.
“Well, slut, I’ve got one last surprise for you.” Juta pats Bakugo’s head. Spike sits up, clasping Bakugo by the waist to place him onto his lap. His cock, perpetually engorged and dripping, rubs between Bakugo’s thighs.
“You ever see two dogs fuck?” Juta says, grinning viciously. “They do this thing called knotting. I think you can figure out the rest.” The base of Spike’s dick ripples and two growths rise from each side. Bakugo looks down at it in dismay and immediately renews his struggles.
“Ready to get knotted, hero?” Spike taunts. “Like the little bitch you are?”
“Please! Stop, I don’t—” Bakugo says, breaking into sobs. The next outburst is completely unprompted.
“I don’t wanna be a hero anymore!”
The cracks in Bakugo’s voice remind Deku of their post-Kamino brawl, and he is similarly overcome with despair as he chews at his lip, reopening his bite wound.
Juta and Spike are both laughing as Bakugo weeps and claws at the hands around his waist, like a prey caught in the jaws of a predator. Spike’s hands lift him and force him down. It takes three tries. The knot snags at first, too wide for Bakugo to take in one go, even after being fucked all sorts of ways and by two dicks. But they press on, until the knot finally pops through the rim of his abused hole. Spike grinds Bakugo down against his lap as the blond screeches in pain.
After emptying himself one last time, Spike shoves Bakugo onto the floor, discarding him like a used toy. He curls into a fetal position, breathing unsteadily and facing away from them.
“Kacchan!” Deku calls. No response.
“That was amazing,” Spike smiles with the groggy satisfaction of someone who just ate a good meal. “Enough spankbank material for weeks.” The villains are pulling on their clothes, ignoring the squirming, naked body at their feet.
“So what now?” Spike glances around at Deku as if noticing him for the first time. “We killing these fuckers now or what?”
The three of them instantly react, launching outbursts. “You can’t kill us!” Kirishima shouts desperately. “Bakugo did everything you asked!”
“You dumbasses actually trusted villains like us after what we just did to your Kacchan?” Juta laughs. “UA standards must be slipping. We were just gonna leave you here and go regroup but... We weren’t supposed to show our quirks. Can’t risk it now. Got what we came for, didn’t we? And we fucked his brains out, so now we’re gonna blow out all of yours.”
“No!” Todoroki jerks at his restraints. “At least let Bakugo go, then.”
Juta cackles. “And abandon our handiwork? Why the fuck would we do that? We’re keeping your pretty blonde bitch. Managed to turn him into a total cockslut in under two hours, didn’t we?”
“Gotta be a world record,” adds Spike.
“Why let these newfound talents go to waste?” Some of his fingers transform into tentacles again, and they inch toward Bakugo’s catatonic form. They probe him, one by one, wiggling like worms. Deku thrashes, overcome with anger.
After doing what they did, and discarding him just like that… Can’t they give him a break…?
“Can’t wait for the whole team to try him out. Wonder how long he’ll last from being passed around? For an uppity bitch, didn’t take long for him to break down, did it? Hey, Kacchan. We’re talking about you. Why are you so quiet?”
His tentacles wrap around Bakugo’s limbs, moving him like a puppet. They turn his face toward Juta, who smiles down at him.
“Hear that? You’re coming with us. Congrats on passing the job interview, babe. Now you get to add ‘designated cumdump’ to your resume. Your new title for the rest of your life.” Bakugo doesn’t react, head lolling against his shoulder.
“Stop!” Deku blurts. “Whether you kill us or not, at least let me confess to Kacchan. I—” he ignores the confused glances of the two on either side of him, steeling himself. Blood is still trickling down his lips from his self-inflicted wound, but he pays it no mind.
“I love him. I always have. You’ve already taken everything from me— from us. And I can’t even save him so please—” The tears falling from his eyes are genuine. “Let me kiss him, just this once.” He blinks, but continues staring at them determinedly. “Just a kiss. That’s all I’m asking for at this point. Please. After that, you can do anything you want with us. Go ahead and kill me if you have to.”
“Midoriya?!”
The look Juta gives him is utterly bemused. He considers it for a moment, then…
“Ugh, fine. But only ‘cause it’ll be funny to see him try and walk. Hey Kacchan, get up. Your boyfriend wants a kiss. Go to him, now. Show him what we’ve taught you.” He slaps Bakugo’s ass, making him wince.
Bakugo exhales sharply, then groans. It takes a long time for him to raise his head. And even longer time after that before he manages to stand on wobbly feet, taking one step and…
Come splatters out of him, forming a puddle between his legs. He looks down with utter horror as the villains roar with laughter. Bakugo turns to Deku, his bleary look sharpening into one full of humiliation and loathing.
“Better get used to that, drama queen. Now hurry up, before I get all trigger-happy again.”
Bakugo grimaces as he manages another step. Deku inwardly apologizes, tries to say it all with his eyes alone. Please understand, Kacchan – but this is the only way.
The villains poke fun at the trail of come and blood left by Bakugo with every step taken towards Deku. As he draws closer, Deku is stunned at his unrecognizable appearance. Every inch of his skin is marred by stains, wounds or bruises. He’s cradling his arm, expression desolate. There’s no more fight left in him.
With Bakugo within reach, Deku throws himself against his restraints and thrusts his tongue into Bakugo’s mouth. The blond mumbles something but Deku’s too busy focused on making the kiss as sloppy as possible. His blood is smearing all over Bakugo’s mouth, extending to his cheeks, caking over the fluids previously left there. Bakugo’s tongue stirs weakly against his. Deku can taste coppery blood. It rejuvenates him, and he licks into Bakugo’s mouth again, swirling their body fluids together, no matter how messy it leaves them both.
Bakugo draws back, lips bloody, eyes filled with recognition. Deku closes his eyes and nods. Swirling power surges inside the room, as Bakugo’s body thrums with otherworldly strength.
Deku collapses with relief against his bindings. It’s over. Bakugo knows what to do.
After all, this is not the first time they’ve transferred One for All.
Ultimately it’s Bakugo who rids himself of the villains, who breaks his own cuffs and shatters the choker around his own neck, then frees the three of them from their restraints, thus saving them all.
“Are you hurt,” he says tonelessly as he finishes with Todoroki. Deku nearly cries at the irony of his question. Bakugo’s the one who can barely stand, the evidence of his torture visible all throughout his entire body. Todoroki quietly responds that the bullet didn’t pass through any major artery, so he should be okay. He thanks Bakugo for the first-aid he provided.
Bakugo collapses onto his knees. He mumbles something, looking resigned.
“…Can’t go out like this.”
They realize belatedly what he’s asking for.
Todoroki drapes his blue jacket over Bakugo’s shoulders. Kirishima cuts strips from the cape of his pants to make a sling for his arm, and helps him put it on despite his protests. Bakugo doesn’t mention his injuries from the waist-down so everyone pointedly ignores them. They exchange frantic looks, however, when Bakugo insists on putting clothes on by himself. He stumbles while pulling on Deku’s pants, which prompts Deku to reflexively move toward him. “Kacchan—”
“DON’T!” Bakugo screams so suddenly they all jump. Then, much more quietly: “Don’t call me that.”
Deku tugs on the collar of his shirt. He knows he looks odd, missing such a crucial part of his costume now, but if his great sacrifice is to have to walk out in boxers for a few minutes then so be it. Sure, he’s bleeding from his lip a bit, but compared to the rest, he looks pristine. Todoroki’s leg is messed up, Kirishima’s chest is bruised from fighting against his restraints the most.
And then there’s Bakugo.
No matter what Bakugo tried, he wouldn't even be able to cover up half of his injuries. There are deep angry marks on his neck and wrists, swelling on his lips and cheek, blood caked on his face. A broken arm. That's not even including... The rest, which Deku can’t even bear to think about. He tries not to acknowledge that he – all three of them, actually – directly contributed to Bakugo’s ruin, though the evidence of that can only be found… Internally. Flushing, he blocks out the memory despite its freshness in his mind.
With Deku’s baggy pants loose around his hips, Bakugo insists on walking alone. Even if his attempts can hardly be classified as ‘walking’ to begin with. He keeps stumbling into things, and limps along so slowly they have to keep stopping, just so he doesn’t lag too far behind. Occasionally he smooths down his stomach, lip quivering. They hear him whimpering under his breath every so often. It’s absolutely pitiful to watch, but all they can do is trade miserable looks, knowing it would be crueler to offer him help.
“Open it,” Bakugo says when they reach the door. There’s no heat to his voice, no hint of despair, no… Nothing.
Kirishima does so. Immediately they’re deafened by the noise, and blinded by the light.
It’s absolute mayhem outside. There are ambulances pulling up, along with the police. Aizawa stands the closest. For the first time Deku feels nothing but dread upon seeing him. They make their way to him. The pro-hero eyes Bakugo’s mismatched clothes and everyone else’s varying states of undress, looking like he wants to say something.
He doesn’t.
Todoroki and Kirishima walk past their teacher without a word.
Bakugo stumbles toward the ambulance.
Deku is the only one who pauses in front of Aizawa. A flash of anger wells up within him – he wants to demand an explanation, lay the blame on him for this happening, scream at him and ask why they weren’t prepared for this, accuse him of not training them enough and throw his hero license on the ground – but the rage is gone as soon as it comes. He says one thing. “The villains are in there.” What’s left of them, anyway. He walks past Aizawa too, following the rest.
Bakugo wordlessly accepts a blanket from an EMT, wrapping it over his head so it looks like he’s wearing a hood.
The ambulance won’t fit all of them, so they join Bakugo in the police van. He’s staring off into space, eyes completely hollow. The grime on his face has long dried, but he hasn’t bothered to wipe it off. He’s silent the entire journey. In shock, most likely.
The officer in the car with them peppers them with questions. Despite being right across him, Deku can barely hear him, his voice sounding far away and muffled as he keeps expressing his relief that they are ‘okay’. None of them respond, busy staring at their laps. None of them ask him to define ‘okay’. Their thoughts are consumed by the horrible truth.
That four heroes entered that warehouse but no hero had made it out.