Work Text:
Bakugou knows it’s going to be a bad day when Kirishima slams his hands onto his desk, all bright eyes and wild hair. He knows it’s going to be doubly bad when Kaminari joins him, grinning.
“Bakugou!” Kirishima says. “Will you tutor us in Japanese Lit.? We’ll—”
“Fuck no,” Bakugou interrupts him.
Undeterred, Kirishima continues. “We’ll be really great disciples! Kaminari promised not to fall asleep this time.”
Kaminari nods. “We can make it well worth your while.” He makes the hand symbol for money. When Bakugou doesn’t react, he wiggles his eyebrows.
“You’re dead ass broke, sparky,” Bakugou says. “You had to ask megane for money to buy bread yesterday.”
“Oh, but I—” Kirishima starts, reaching into his back pocket.
“No way in hell! Kiss my ass!” Bakugou snaps. “I don’t want your grubby snack money.”
“There must be something you want,” Kirishima says, frowning. “Something we can do for you? Some kind of favor?”
“I can pay you with my body,” Kaminari says. “I’ve been told I—”
“If you never finish that sentence,” Bakugou says. “If you never, ever start this line of conversation with me again, I will tutor you, just to make you shut up.”
“Really?” Kaminari asks. “Dude, you’ve saved me!” He reaches forward to clap Bakugou on the shoulder, but shrinks away when Bakugou stares at his hand like he might bite it.
“You won’t regret this,” Kirishima promises.
“I already do,” Bakugou says.
--------------------------------
It’s not that Bakugou hates Kirishima and Kaminari. Sure, he does, but that’s not why he doesn’t want to tutor them. Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, Ashido…all of them make him uncomfortable. They’re not afraid of him, not even remotely wary of his battle prowess. He could blast them to smithereens, and yet their only response to his threats is to tease him, ruffle his hair, or bump shoulders with him. They’re starting to feel less like pebbles that he can easily knock out of the way and more like decent sized stones that he would stub his toe on if he tried to kick them.
Caring isn’t a good look on Bakugou—he’s the lone wolf, the alpha male. He likes his place on the sun, warm and solitary, without the crowd of other companions basking in it alongside him. Kirishima and Kaminari are particularly troublesome. They trail him like he’s Mother-Fucking-Goose and they’re his stupid, ugly ducklings or however the fuck the folktale goes. They’re like ticks he can’t pull out. A rash that won’t disappear. Clingy, mewling kittens that he has to bathe and feed and look after with his nonexistent maternal instincts.
Honestly, he would have tossed them to the side by now, if he was smart. He would have blasted a hole through both of them or broken their arms or something, done irreparable damage to their…friendship. If he was smart.
But instead, he answers Kirishima’s call and takes his hand when he has nowhere else to turn instead of fighting on his own. And when he beats up Kaminari for his money, Kaminari follows him into battle and saves his ass in the exam. They’ve had his back in countless fights, expecting nothing from him in return.
At this point, Bakugou isn’t sure outright attacking them would scare them away anymore.
“Yo, Bakugou!” Kaminari says, peeking in through his door. “Your mom is hot!”
Bakugou doesn’t feel bad for knocking him on his ass. Kaminari makes a squeak and a gurgles as he crashes to the floor. Kirishima follows him in, glancing over the mass of Kaminari on the ground in favor of grinning at Bakugou.
“Hey, man!” Kirishima greets. “This is the first time we’ve been over to your place, isn’t it? Nice digs.” He steps over Kaminari, still groaning and rubbing his ass.
“Don’t ignore me,” Kaminari whines.
Kirishima turns to peck him on the forehead with an exaggerated kissing noise. Kaminari seems satisfied.
“Fuckin’ homos,” Bakugou says, but pays no mind to it otherwise. He gestures at the floor. “Sit down and tell me what part of this shit you don’t get.”
Kaminari lasts a record hour and fifteen minutes before he inevitably falls asleep. Bakugou isn’t even mad that he broke his promise. He’s grudgingly impressed that Kaminari managed to stay awake enough to ask intelligent questions for over forty-five minutes. They have a good grasp of the meaning of setting and dialogue, they just struggle with the theme of the work and how it ties to human nature. If Bakugou’s honest with himself (and he isn’t often), they’re not bad students. Kaminari makes too many puns and Kirishima laughs too loud, but Bakugou’s also a crotchety old man in a teenager’s body.
“Do you mind if we go over the falling action one more time?” Kirishima asks. “I get why the foreshadowing is important and the main meaning, but I still can’t grasp the last part of this composition and our teacher is legendary for being a stickler for details and I just want—”
“Don’t you get sick of that?” Bakugou cuts him off.
“Huh?” Kirishima says. “Sick of what?”
Bakugou nods to Kaminari, passed out against his shoulder. Kaminari’s snoring lightly, drooling a dark patch onto Kirishima’s shoulder. Kirishima’s posture is loose and comfortable, and he’s turned slightly so Kaminari can rest easier against him. He looks a few seconds away from petting Kaminari’s hair or resting his cheek against Kaminari’s forehead or some other gay shit.
“Nah,” Kirishima says, smiling down at Kaminari. “He’s a dumbass, but he’s my dumbass, y’know?”
And then he wraps an arm around Kaminari and pulls him against his chest. Kaminari snuffles and leans into Kirishima’s neck and…well. Bakugou had been joking about the gay thing, he thought. But they make quite the pair; Kirishima in jeans a black V-neck and Kaminari wearing that stupid collar Jirou talked him into buying and a leather jacket. They don’t exactly look straight, now that Bakugou thinks about it. Whatever straight people look like. Bakugou wouldn’t know.
“Are you two…” Bakugou starts, then bites his tongue. No, no, he doesn’t care. None of his business and he doesn’t care, anyway.
Kirishima, shithead that he is, catches the slip. A slow smile spreads over his face. No, no, fuck no, Bakugou chants in his head.
“Bakugou,” Kirishima says slowly, “were you about to ask if we’re a couple?”
“No,” Bakugou says. “I don’t care. Stick your dick in whoever you want.”
“You totally care,” Kirishima says. He laughs, delighted. “You do have a soul under all that grouchiness!”
“No!” Bakugou snarls. “I was only asking ‘cause you’re dressed like a couple of gays! Who wears a leather jacket to his classmate’s house?”
Kaminari grunts in his sleep.
Kirishima shrugs the shoulder Kaminari isn’t collapsed against. “What can I say? We dress to impress.” He lets his eyes drag up and down Bakugou’s stained T-shirt and pajama pants. He raises an eyebrow.
Bakugou blushes, furious. “Oh, it is on,” he says.
“Are you jealous?” Kirishima asks.
“I can dress nice if I want, fuck you,” Bakugou says.
“No,” Kirishima says, “I meant of us.”
Bakugou goes still. “I am going to pretend you didn’t say that.”
“It’s okay if you are,” Kirishima says.
“I am not—why the fuck would I be jealous?” Bakugou snaps. “Didn’t I just say I don’t care who you stick your dick in?”
“We talked about it, when we first started hooking up,” Kirishima says. “You’re always extra lenient with us. You look to us for support, even if you don’t realize it. We fill the holes in your defenses perfectly. You do favors for us, even though you complain the whole time.”
“I don’t—” Bakugou protests.
“You do,” Kirishima says. “We know you’ve noticed how we’re getting closer. We just don’t know which one of us you’re jealous of.”
“I don’t care,” Bakugou says. “I don’t give a fuck about either of you and I never will. You’re delusional if you think otherwise.”
Kaminari opens his eyes. “We talked about you, you know,” he says, voice heavy with sleep. “What it’d be like to fuck you.”
Bakugou’s mouth slams shut with an audible click.
“Denki,” Kirishima scolds. “Don’t provoke him if he’s not interested.”
“You think we don’t look at you, too?” Kaminari says, pushing away from Kirishima. “I wasn’t sure about you in our first year—Eijirou was, I know—but I wasn’t sure if you were okay. But you’ve only grown more and more into someone I can rely on. I trust you, Bakugou. And I think you trust me, too.”
Bakugou opens his mouth. Closes it.
“Also, you’re like, way sexier than Eijirou, so we should tota—” Kaminari is cut off by Kirishima wrapping him in a headlock.
“Why you little ingrate—” Kirishima growls.
“Mercy,” Kaminari squeaks. “Please, mercy—”
“What Denki is trying to say,” Kirishima says, “is that we both kind of have a big crush on you? So if—for example, don’t get mad—if you were jealous, we could do something about that. Together.”
“So what,” Bakugou says. “So I—date—both of you?” The word is foreign on his tongue and he spits it out.
“No, no, no,” Kirishima says, waving his hands. “Not date. That’s really, uh, permanent. More like a…a trial run, if you will. See if you like it.”
“A taste test,” Kaminari adds.
A taste test. The words trickle down Bakugou’s spine and sing through his veins. He doesn’t—things like sex and relationships, he doesn’t do that. He doesn’t look at other people because he wants them to be looking at his back as he passes them. That’s right, he shouldn’t have to look at others; they should look to him.
But Kirishima and Kaminari were looking at him, even now, two pairs of hungry eyes sliding over his body and striking a match against his skin. His insides twist and burn. No one had ever been this frank with him before.
“I don’t do this kind of stuff,” Bakugou says roughly. “Relationships and…sex. I don’t do it.” He leaves the last word hanging, as if there’s a but on the end of it.
“But have you had it done to you before?” Kaminari asks. His hand is stroking up and down Kirishima’s thigh, picking at the seams on his jeans like he wants them off. “You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. We can take care of you.”
Bakugou’s instinct is to buck away from it. He doesn’t need anyone to take care of him. Fuck that. But his eyes keep slipping to Kaminari’s hand on Kirishima and Kirishima’s hand on Bakugou. His mind keeps tripping over the memory of Kaminari’s long fingers and Kirishima’s shark teeth and he’s shifting in place, feeling out of his depth.
“I don’t want to touch your dicks,” Bakugou says. His voice cracks. “None of that nasty shit.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Kirishima says. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
Bakugou’s not sure he’s ever been sure of anything in his life. “I said I was, didn’t I?” he snaps.
“Well, you didn’t exactly,” Kaminari says, sliding forward. “But I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”
Bakugou stiffens when Kaminari nudges his leg to the side with his knee. He stiffens up even more when Kaminari settles in front of him and Kirishima behind him, practically back to chest. Bakugou’s breathing is ragged and he feels trapped, eyes darting.
“Shh,” Kirishima soothes, hands falling to Bakugou’s shoulders. Bakugou flinches at his touch, but the tension melts from his shoulders when Kirishima squeezes and massages them, rubbing the stiffness from Bakugou’s body. Kaminari rubs his hands along the tops of Bakugou’s thighs, easing him into it. Bakugou’s cock twitches despite his hesitation.
“Do you treat all your lovers like porcelain?” Bakugou growls. Kaminari’s hands run along the inside of his thighs and Bakugou sucks in a breath.
“Do you want us to go further?” Kaminari asks.
“If you’re going to tease me like that,” Bakugou hisses, “you better finish what you started.”
Kaminari runs his fingers along the inside of Bakugou’s thighs, nails scratching at the fabric of his pajama pants. They get close to but never quite touch Bakugou’s crotch, getting as close as Kaminari dares. The nature of Kirishima’s hands on him change as well, moving up and down his neck and stroking bare skin around the neck of his shirt.
Bakugou’s about to open his mouth and complain again, but Kaminari’s hands slide to his hips and hold him there as he leans forward to kiss Bakugou. Bakugou isn’t pliant; he’s never been kissed before. He doesn’t see the appeal of pressing mouths together and his lips are pressed tightly together.
But that’s why Kaminari is the perfect match. His kissing style is playful—he presses pecks to Bakugou’s mouth and nips at his lips, tugging at them until Bakugou’s mouth is parted and Kaminari can’t move his hands to cup Bakugou’s face and kiss him hard.
Bakugou inhales and it’s the last coherent thing he does. Kaminari is doing something slick and warm with his tongue that leaves Bakugou tingling all over with goosebumps and then Kirishima’s hands are under his shirt and running up his chest and Bakugou aches with need.
He’s overwhelmed with sensation. Kirishima’s fingers are rough and calloused but light where they skim over Bakugou’s skin, leaving him gasping. Kaminari’s fingers are soft but commanding and firm, demanding Bakugou move with him. And his mouth is gentle and hot, shaping Bakugou’s own mouth in ways he didn’t know it could move and drawing his tongue from his mouth and into Kaminari’s. And Kirishima, when he starts to mouth at nibble at Bakugou’s neck, is a whole new sensation that leaves bursts of pain-pleasure that have Bakugou rocking his hips between them, dying for attention.
Bakugou clings to Kaminari. He grips onto his leather jacket and holds on for dear life.
Kaminari pulls away from Bakugou’s mouth with a pop. He regards Bakugou, tilting his head. “You know,” he says. “You look better like this, sweaty and blushing and needy.”
Bakugou tries to say fuck you but all that comes out is “F-fuck—”
“’Atta boy,” Kirishima rumbles from his place nestled in the crook of Bakugou’s neck. “Sing for us, baby.”
“I won’t,” Bakugou says, voice still wobbly.
“Oh, really?” Kirishima says. “Denki, do him like you do me.”
“May I?” Kaminari asks.
“May you what?” Bakugou asks.
“Blow you,” Kaminari says.
Bakugou sputters. His head swims. He grasps for words. “I can’t—won’t—reciprocate—”
“Hey,” Kaminari says, hands on Bakugou’s cheeks. “Don’t worry about that, okay? This night is about you, baby.”
Bakugou swallows. He looks away from Kaminari. “Do it,” he grunts.
“Do what?” Kirishima asks sweetly.
“I’m not saying it,” Bakugou says.
“Say it,” Kirishima whispers in Bakugou’s ear, teeth latching onto his earlobe.
“S-suck me,” Bakugou says, cursing himself for stuttering. He still can’t look at Kaminari.
“Any time,” Kaminari purrs.
Kaminari’s hands fall to his thighs again, but this time his stroking actually brushes Bakugou’s hard-on. Bakugou groans at the slightest contact. Kaminari palms him through his pajamas, squeezing lightly. And then he’s pulling down Bakugou’s pants, just enough to let his cock free.
It’s like a dream, but Kaminari really brushes his bangs back and leans down so that he can tongue at just the tip of Bakugou’s head. Bakugou swears and jerks his hips up and then Kirishima’s hands are there, holding his hips in place. Kaminari laughs lightly and the rush of air past his lips brushes Bakugou and he jerks, sensitive.
Kaminari then proceeds to mouth absolutely anywhere but Bakugou’s head, tracing the entirety of Bakugou’s cock with his tongue, languid and patient. Bakugou’s aching and his chest is heaving by the time Kaminari has mapped out Bakugou’s length. Kaminari wraps his mouth around Bakugou and Bakugou swears again, louder.
Kirishima releases his grip on Bakugou to instead take Bakugou’s hands and settle them on Kaminari’s head. “Grab onto him,” Kirishima orders. “Tell him what to do.” But Bakugou doesn’t know what to do and his hands spasm in Kaminari’s hair.
“Show him,” Kirishima says, and grinds against Bakugou’s ass.
Bakugou sucks in a breath and stops jerking his hips like crazy. He bucks into Kaminari’s mouth rhythmically hands guiding Kaminari and pushing him down over his cock. Kirishima matches his pace, grinding his own hard-on against Bakugou.
He lasts for several long moments until Kaminari pulls back to suck hard on his head and Bakugou comes with a shout, half in and half out of Kaminari’s mouth. Kaminari makes a face at the cum that lands on his chin and cheek. “Dude,” he says after swallowing.
Bakugou can’t say anything. He’s come so hard that he might as well have blown his brains out, he collapses back against Kirishima who grins at Kaminari.
“You did a great job,” he says.
Kaminari rolls his eyes. “And just what did you do, huh? A little grinding? A hickey?”
“A what?” Bakugou says.
Kirishima grins harder. “Nevermind that,” he says. “I’ll do it next time.”
“Next time?” Bakugou asks.
“Well,” Kaminari says. “Only if you want to.”
Bakugou considers his spent dick, still exposed. He considers his own chest heaving. He considers all the sensations they made him feel and how jerking off paled in comparison. He considers Kirishima, kissing Kaminari and cleaning up Bakugou’s cum with his tongue.
“Maybe,” Bakugou says. It’s as close to a yes as they’re going to get.