Doggy deku

Month 11

Deku still clung to hope. Bakugou might be interested in him. Possibly. Theoretically. That moment of tenderness, the way Kacchan had caressed him…

It had been very much like how someone spoke to their pet. But people didn't fuck their pets. Or at least most people didn't. Normal people. And Bakugou was normal. Or no, not normal, above normal, better, but probably not a dog fucker. Or at least, even with the power or imagination, Deku liked to think that fucking him was a very different experience than fucking a dog, so if Kacchan wanted to fuck a dog, then he would have gone and fucked a dog, but he didn't, he'd instead put his dick in Izuku's mouth, who was a boy, so all role-playing aside…

I think I might be a little gay.

That was perhaps not the most astounding revelation in all this, but it was the easiest one to process right now. He was gay for Bakugou. It could no longer be chalked up merely to revenge fantasies, to wild adolescent hormones. He liked the idea of Kacchan's dick in him, to the point that all that self-righteousness about refusing to feel pleasure from his ass seemed tawdry in hindsight. As long as Bakugou was the one doing it.

He anticipated their next session with a weird sort of dread. Part of that was his own mixed-up feelings, but another part…

Eight weeks left. Eight weeks, and he would have been in this plastic containment cell for an entire year. It was perhaps the longest he'd ever stuck with anything, and it was making him slightly insane. What was he supposed to do after getting out? Go back to normal?

Not for the first time, he felt a pang of sorrow over the idea of cutting ties with Kacchan. The blond and he had no reason to cross paths out in the real world. They no longer went to the same school, their mom's had grown distant from one another, they were on different career paths. Maybe once Katsuki set him loose, that would be the end of it. Deku wasn't okay with that.

But what was he supposed to do about it? Something crazy like… seduce Kacchan?

Unlikely.

The next time he visited his old friend, the boy ushered him into the bathroom, did the ritual cleaning. He made no mention of the long weekend together, treated it like it didn't exist. Deku, on the other hand, waited every second for the other foot to fall—possibly right into his rear end. Any second, Bakugou would belittle him, or bring out the tail plug, or whisper 'Good Boy' into his ear. Just the thought of that made Deku shudder in anticipation, thinking about that warm breath, the magical effect those words had on him. He wanted to be Bakugou's good boy. He wanted tp so bad. He wanted to impress his friend, to captivate him in the same way Bakugou enthralled him, dig out a little place in his mind and make a home there.

"No popping boners," Bakugou growled, redirecting the blast of water at Midoriya's crotch. The boy yelped and ducked, penitent.

And that was one week. And the next. It was as if nothing had changed. Or more accurately, it was as if Kacchan did not want to acknowledge it. Perhaps he was feeling regret over letting his dick touch dweeby little Deku. Whatever the case, it left Izuku cold and craving more.

Weeks ticked by, only a scant number left, slipping away.

Izuku was determined to act. This was his desperate bid to win the affections of the boy he was just now admitting he might be in love with. Why? Why did he have to love Kacchan of all people? Why couldn't he have turned it off—after the alley incident, after the caging, probably long before when the bullying began. His brain was broken if he thought Kacchan would love him back.

' Good boy. '

Spoken like a promise, like a vow. Bakugou saw something in him, if not appeal than usefulness. There was a purpose he fulfilled that kept him in the blond's graces, and if he could convince Bakugou that no one in the world could fulfill it like him… addiction could be a two-way street.

That next week, Izuku came prepared. It was an uncomfortable walk to his old foe's house, but well worth it. When Katasuki ordered him to wiggle out of his clothes for the weekly ritual, Izuku squirmed with glee. With a shake of his hips, he got his pants off him, sliding down to reveal that not only was he wearing the cage—he had the tail plug in, too. It had made for an awkward waddle here, but the results were worth it.

Bakugou paused what he was doing, and Izuku swore he heard a sharp intake of breath. It wasn't that the sight of Izuku in a tail plug was exactly groundbreaking at this point. No, the unusual thing was that it had come willingly, without arguing or confrontation. This was Izuku giving him what he wanted.

Rather than instant jubilation, Katsuki considered him with suspicious eyes. Always the boy was trying to find out what the angle was, why he needed to distrust. Of course he suspected Deku of ulterior motives. And of course he was right. However, Deku's motives were benevolent, or at least symbiotic. This was what they both wanted.

Timidly, Izuku raised one hand, fingers fisted into a crude approximation of a paw. He whimpered, looked hopeful. It stung his pride to debase himself like this, but it stoked his ego to see the impact it had on his old friend. Bakugou's eyes widened, and a hint of pink touched his cheeks. Finally, after questing after it so hungrily, Izuku had what he wanted: power over Bakugou. If all it took was his self-respect, then that was an equivalent exchange.

"Don't know what you're playing at," Bakugou sneered, raising the showerhead in threat, "but it's not going to work."

But it was working. That much was undeniable. Deku sat back on his haunches, pawing at the air like a family dog begging from the table. He knew exactly what treat he wanted, and he had the same smug assurance that he would get it, provided he was patient.

Baring his teeth, Bakugou strode forward. A year ago, this was the part where Izuku would have been shoved down, humiliated. But he was already humiliating himself, on all fours on the ground, so that part was taken care of. There was nothing left for the blond to do but crouch down, glare at Izuku eye-to-eye. Izuku did his best not to flinch, to stare back with the same adoring gaze of a dog. That was what Bakugou had always wanted: stupid, blind worship.The fickle, conditional idolization of his peers? Worthless. But the single-minded love of an animal that didn't know better? Irreplaceable.

Deku held his gaze for several long moments. It was perhaps the bravest he had ever felt. However, Bakugou would not be the first to break, nor would he make the first move.

It was dawning on Izuku that when it came to dealing with people, Bakugou was a bit of a coward. Or at least, he was forever on the defensive, guarding himself against anything that could threaten his crystalline self-esteem. But if Izuku gave him ground, Kacchan would step forward as surely as clockwork.

Ever so slowly, Izuku lowered himself to the ground, rolled over so that his stomach was on display. He made a show of folding his arms in, doglike. The result was exactly what he wanted. Bakugou reached forward, stroked along his abdomen.

"You always have been kind of a dumb mutt," Katsuku muttered.

And you have always been afraid to say how you really feel.

As always, Kacchan's hands were warm. It really did feel like a reward to have them all over his body, rubbing around his bellybutton, tracing his sides. Deku's cock throbbed inside his cage, but it didn't seem as important right now. All his attention was focused on Katsuki. And in return, all of Katsuki's attention was focused on him.

"Good boy," Bakugou breathed, quietly, a whisper.

Deku thought back to the first time he'd heard those words from Bakugou. It had been accompanied by pain and burning, by shame. He'd been so focused on the sharp intrusion, the belt buckle into his body, that he hadn't been paying attention to the look on Bakugou's face. The boy's eyes were half-lidded, almost as if he was hypnotized. He was totally enthralled by Deku lying prostrate before him, offered up. If that wasn't power, Deku didn't know what was.

All leashes have two ends.

Gently, expertly, Deku reached out and batted at Bakugou with one balled up hand. For a puppy, this would be an invitation to play. Bakugou responded with a smirk, reaching up to take a fistful of Deku's hair.

"You wanna be my dog, huh? Think you know what I want?"

Deku didn't speak. Speaking was a trap, the words nothing but triplines for him to stumble over. Instead, Deku satisfied himself with a long whimper. He spread his legs wider, offering himself up. Bakugou took the bait. With all the casual expertise of a chef making pancakes, he flipped Izuku over onto his belly. One hand came up to grip Izuku's neck, holding him in place. It was unnecessary. Deku had no intention of fighting this. He held still as Bakugou wrestled with his own clothing, shoving his pants down as far as they would go.

Craning over his shoulder, Deku caught a glimpse of Kacchan's cock springing free. He was hard just from looking at Deku, from doing barely more than tickling his sides. Just like how Deku's cock ached inside its cage, Kacchan's body screamed for him. They were two ends of the same chain, a pull on one end meaning a tug on the other.

Bakugou didn't waste time with his mouth. Instead, he rutted his cock into the space of Izuku's legs, dragging against the polyester strands of the tail plug still nestled into Izuku's hole. The movement rocked the toy inside him, sending Izuku moaning. Again there was that sensation of suffocation, of his body wanting pleasure and finding no outlet. Izuku had learned how to hold onto it, grabbing the razor edges like stopping a blade barehanded. It hurt, but as long as he had enough determination, he had control.

To Bakugou, he was still the helpless victim, waiting for whatever the teen saw fit to deliver. Maybe. Maybe whatever conditioning Bakugou had ground into him was taking effect, and Midoriya was no more than a dog drooling at a bell. But maybe the bellringer drooled too.

Taking a fistful of tail, Bakugou gave a light tug. Deku yelped. He saw stars, his entire body shuddering and convulsing. This was it, the moment he had dreamt, dreaded, dared to provoke.

Bakugou was going to fuck him.

The tail came out slowly, excruciatingly. Deku knew it was on purpose. Kacchan wanted Deku to squirm. For once, the beleaguered boy didn't resist just to spite him. No, he gave in to spite him. Bakugou had held out for so long, but finally his resolve crumbled. He was a victim of temptation.

The plug popped free, a literal snap of sound like fine wine being uncorked. It punched the air straight out of Deku's lungs, left him gasping. When Kacchan's hand shifted from his neck to his hips, he knew it was imminent. He felt the heat from Bakugou's dick like the warm kiss of sun. No sun has ever kissed this place, though, and his asshole was completely unprepared for the surge of heat that pressed against it.

Hot. It was hot. Unlike the toys or the spray of the showerhead or his own nervous fingers, Kacchan was blistering. His thick cock split Izuku open, entire body split in twain. He was no longer wholly Izuku. He was Izuku with some Kacchan in the middle.

Behind him, the teen was snarling and huffing. He was every bit as overwhelmed as Deku, except louder about it. He didn't have the benefit of heaps of experience being sexually overwhelmed. He hadn't had a year of unending torture to prepare himself for such things. For his part, Dek managed to be much more reserved. Sure, he whimpered and moaned, but it was subdued, intermittent. He had enough presence of mind leftover to begin setting a rhythm. Back and forth he rocked, feeling the way Kacchan drug in and out of him. The boy's shaft was so smooth, but it felt different rubbing against his walls than glass or silicone.

Izuku had come prepared, lubing himself up before inserting the plug. It made the way slick, effortless, soothed burning into the abrupt discomfort of being fucked.

Before long, Bakugou was back in control, caught up and with his hands on Deku's hips setting the pace. He probably thought he had been in control the whole time. Deku knew the truth. Control was a myth. In reality, both were just barely hanging on, lost in each other.

Bakugou may not love him, but if Deku had his way, he'd make it so the other boy couldn't live without him. All the affection Bakugou craved but could not bring himself to ask for—Deku could give that to him, as pure as any pet.

So they moved together, no words, only the feral pants of two teenage boys wrestling with the age old quandry of "how to fuck good." Deku clenched, only partially on purpose. He was riding that wave, that almost-orgasm that ended with his dick feeling like it had licked an 8-volt battery, his entire body exhausted with none of the relief of afterglow. At this point, it was something to look forward to. He had forgotten what a normal orgasm felt like.

Bakugou hadn't. He came with a rush inside Deku, pouring into him with all the youthful enthusiasm of someone who didn't know better. Those fingers dug trenches into Deku's hips, holding him like he was afraid the other boy would melt away. They stayed locked like that until Bakugou was empty and satisfied, and Izuku was… content.

They were in the bathroom, but Izuku didn't feel very clean. To the contrary, he felt absolutely defiled, dripping slowly onto the floor. With a sharp noise of disgust, Bakugou stood up and replaced his clothes.

"Get out," he snapped.

Deku didn't fight him. He left the Bakugou residence feeling smug—a feeling not unlike afterglow. He could get used to it.

Month 12

It was week fifty-two. An entire turn of the planet, and here they were again in Bakugou's bedroom. It had been another month of minimal contact. No text messages, no speaking about what had transpired between them. No mention about what would happen after this.

It was such a small matter for Bakugou to twist the key, to set Izuku free from the cage that had plagued him for so long. It fell to the ground with a soft plunk.

"I bet you can't wait to get your hands all over that filthy dick," Bakugou sneered. "Well? Get to it."

"Here?" Izuku asked with only the faintest of surprise. Really, he didn't mind performing on command. Judging from the way Bakugou eyed him, he'd have a rapt audience.

"Yeah," Bakugou said. "Do it. Let's see if you even can."

' If he even could.'

It had been a long time. Izuku's first touch against his dick prickled, like rubbing a limb that had gone to sleep. He stroked his shaft, slowly coaxing it into life. After so long complaining about being cooped up, it was a little shy in front of a crowd. It took a while for him to get it up, to overcome the anxiety of being observed. That soon transitioned to a feeling like being shocked, the half-numb sensation replaced with an overload.

Izuku hadn't had direct stimulation to his dick like this in a year. It felt like too much.

He found himself choking back a whine. Everything in him felt tight, but it was the clenching before puking. It was his entire body mixed up and stumbling, trying to sort out how he felt. Mostly it was just sting and singe, like listening to music so loud the notes ceased to have meaning. It was all just noise.

"You like that?" Bakugou sneered.

"N-no," Izuku bit out. It was honest. It felt disgusting, the texture of his cock a strange mixture of squishy and hard. It was like a worm speared on a hook, and it only got worse the more turned on he got.

At this, Bakugou leered. He reached out with one foot, batting Izuku's hand aside so that he could gently grind his heel against the boy's cock. This sent even more shuddering through Izuku, practically shaking him apart with the force of it. Whereas his own hand felt gross, Bakugou's foot felt right.

It occurred to him then, the flash of fear: what if coming by himself never felt right again? Maybe he could do it after a bit of trial and error, grappling with himself messily in the privacy of his room, but what if it was always unsatisfying and gross? He was like a wolf raised in captivity, and now he couldn't fend for himself. Reintegration? Imbossible. He was domesticated.

Kacchan flexed his toes. It felt like such a complete engulfing of Deku's dick, even if it only covered a fraction. Kacchan was touching him there. His poor, attention-starved dick was being smothered in the firm, elastic sensation of strong toes.

"You like this? " Bakugou asked. Or rather, it had the lilt of a question, but all the self-assuredness of a statement. He knew the answer—it was evident on Deku's trembling frame.

"Please," Izuku whined. That was what Bakugou wanted. He wanted groveling and begging and debasement, and as long as Izuku offered those things, then maybe they could both get what they wanted.

Looking up, Deku locked eyes with his tormentor. Bakugou's expressions were always intense, and sometimes it made him hard to read. When all his looks were as fiery as staring into the sun, the more subtle undertones got washed out. Looking back at him, Izuku thought maybe he saw traces of curiosity, a dash of desire. Was he projecting? Or did Bakugou want this as much as him?

No, not as much. In Deku's core, he understood that if he did not take the initiative, give in and put out, Bakugou would never stoop to admitting he wanted it. That was just the way the boy was built. But maybe that didn't mean he didn't want it so much as… he needed Deku. If either of them was ever going to experience satisfaction, it would be because Deku had the fortitude to take the plunge.

"Please," Deku whined again, but this time with all the unabashed need of a dog crying for its master. "Please help me. Don't abandon me."

Katsuki pulled back his lips, baring teeth in a snarl. It was a gleeful one, though, the enamel-flashing triumph of a beast that was moving in for the kill.

"You interested in being my little doggy full time?" he asked. "You know what that means, don't you? Back in the cage forever, unless I decide to let you out."

Izuku looked to where the cage lay, cast off onto the ground. He had wanted free of that damned thing for so long, had dreamed and plotted ways of escaping it. Kacchan's toes flexed, giving him a light squeeze. It was enough to make his vision bristle with white spots. Too much.

He thought back to what it had been like to come from his ass, from the feeling of Kacchan splitting him in two. That had been overwhelming, but in a different way. It had been like having his head forcefully submerged in a waterfall. This, on the other hand, was like being connected to a live battery, the lightning that coursed through him and lit him up. Maybe once upon a time he had craved it, but after so long being weaned from the white-hot intensity of "hands on" dick touching…

Izuku thought he preferred the butt stuff.

"Yes," he gasped again, "I'll do it. I'll be your doggy. Just please… c-can you do my ass?"

From the hungry look on Bakugou's face, this was exactly what he wanted to hear. In one swift movement, he scooped up the cage on the floor. This thing was not designed to go on an erect dick—not without some manhandling. And manhandle he did, jamming Izuku's throbbing cock into the tight space, contorting it until Izuku's eyes brimmed with tears. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but it was… a good burn. It had the same sensation of itching a bug bite, the burning that only multiplied and got more satisfying with each stroke. When the cage was fully on, it felt like being embraced by an old friend. Izuku let out a sigh of relief.

That was quickly replaced by a punched-out gasp when Bakugou thumbed at his hole. He didn't have time to whine or even brace himself. There was just the snap of fabric being quickly shucked, the low growl of Bakugou stroking himself. Then the press, the burn, the soul-scorching satisfaction of being entered. Izuku called out, moaning, clenching, shuddering. Inside the cage, his dick throbbed. However, he no longer pictured it as crying to be let out. It was where it belonged, helping him build pressure, the interior storm he sought. He just had to let it swell, to stop trying to fight and ride along on the current.

Bakugou gripped his hips hard enough to bruise. Izuku groaned and pushed back. He wanted more, wanted to be filled so full he spilled over. That was the only way for him to cum now, to let Bakugou stuff him until all this energy had nowhere to go but that overwhelming rush.

"Say you're mine," Bakugou demanded. "My dog."

"I-I'm yours. Your dog."

If that was what it took. If that would win him Bakugou's love.

If that was what it took to control him.

"Good boy," Bakugou growled. By now, Izuku could anticipate the words coming—a formula he had figured out. There would be more in the future, provided he did his calculations correctly. That didn't stop him from basking in the triumph of this time, this culmination.

Kacchan came inside of him again. Deku felt the pulsing, clenched around it and wrenched his own relief free. It was hard won, and as always felt less like a burst and more of a temporary reprieve, the eye of a never-ending storm. Soon he would be back to his frustrated self, wanting more, needing more. Now he had someone to give it to him.

Unlike last time, Bakugou did not immediately boot him. Instead, there was entwinement, softness. Hands carded Izuku's hair, performing the theater of attempting to tame his locks. For his part, he played the role of the dog, not speaking, communicating in whines. His reward was Bakugou wrapping thick arms around his middle, cradling him close.

"Good boy," Bakugou murmured again into his hair. Gone was the anger, the hostility. In its place was fondness, a softness he had not seen on Kacchan since they were kids. And it was directed at him of all people.

After a moment, blissful but brief, Kacchan pulled away. The whine ripped from Deku's mouth was genuine, passing unprompted from his lips. However, his friend didn't go far. He had been prepared, and from a drawer in his desk he pulled out a long strip of leather, dotted in the center with a flash of metal. It was a collar, indistinguishable from the kind dogs wore. Deku had worn collars during some of their sessions, but this felt more… permanent. Almost like a promise ring, something intended not for one brief afternoon, but long-term wear. Bakugou clipped it around Deku's neck, the fit snug enough to make each breath feel earned—not a struggle, just a constant reminder to not take it for granted.

Crouching down, Bakugou looked him in the eye and said, "You're mine now, Deku."

Deku.

While he'd often fought against the name, he now had to admit: Deku was a pretty good name for a dog. And now it was his—and he was Kacchan's. After a decade of struggle, of being at odds, they two had finally learned how to coexist and thrive. And now they had a future—strange, but one they could feel out together.

And who said old dogs couldn't learn new tricks?

Chapter 3Izuku wasn't sure exactly where they stood. Figuratively speaking. Literally speaking, he was aware they stood at the entrance to the UA dorms, Kacchan smirking back at him as he opened the doors.

"Bet you never thought you'd see the inside of this place," he purred. Izuku recognized it as showing off. That was one of the things he was rediscovering about the boy–Kacchan actually did want people's approval. Only some people's, only occasionally, his desire for validation fickle and volatile like his quirk. But when it was there, it was like an anxious, underfed cat, demanding attention and lashing out if it received none.

"This is so amazing," Izuku said. He wasn't just saying that to appease his… whatever they were. He meant it. Izuku had given up on ever setting foot inside a real hero school, but here he was, being given a tour by one of the top alumni. Just one of the many perks of being Bakugou's… friend? Boyfriend? Dog?

Victim?

They hadn't exactly put a label on it. However, their strange relationship had continued for a month now. Izuku would visit Katsuki on the weekends, and Katsuki would bathe him and give him a brief respite from his cage and fuck his brains out before sending him on his merry way. It was a mutually beneficial–albeit mutually confusing–arrangement.

However, what they hadn't done yet up until this point was go anywhere public. So far, their furtive ventures had been confined to Kacchan's home. Maybe there had been that one nighttime trip to the park, but it had been after dark, had carried the same air of secrecy. Going out in public like this, where they could be seen and Kacchan would have to admit to associating with him, was uncharted waters. And, well, Izuku was afraid to rock that boat lest he get sea sick. Because as much as he wanted a label for their relationship, or some sort of sign that he wasn't just hallucinating this whole thing, he had the sneaking suspicion that this was some sort of trap.

Bakugou willingly choosing to go places with him? Not unless there was something in it for him.

(They had known each other most of their lives. Izuku had a sense about these things.)

Moving to the dorms had been an unexpected change. Izuku didn't know the details, but suddenly all the UA students were supposed to relocate to this space. It had thrown a wrench into he and Bakugou's regular cleaning sessions. Irritating for Bakugou. Devastating for Midoriya. After all, if he didn't get his regular sessions with the blond, then his dick stayed dry in more ways than one. No cleaning, sealed off in its little plastic cage and growing more ornery by the day. Izuku had sent Katsuki several panicked texts about the situation, about how they were going to navigate this move. Katsuki had confidently responded that this would change nothing. Izuku would just have to visit him in the dorms.

So here he was, padding through the carpeted halls and feeling distinctly out of place. Everyone else in this building would be a hero one day, save for him. The highest he could aspire to was lap dog to one. And that was a marked improvement over what his prospects had been a few months prior.

Kacchan led him to the common room, and to Deku's horror, there were other people in there. Some students were currently using the lounge tv, others were grouped around a table with books open, still more sat on kitchen countertops and chatted.

A newcomer in their midst was not overlooked. Immediately, eyes snapped to Izuku, sizing him up. The size they found was small, as he immediately shrunk in on himself. These people were heroes in training–a few years from now they would be on billboards and the nightly news, and Izuku would probably be buying their merch. It was a sharp contrast, and it made him acutely aware of just how unimpressive he was.

"Who's your friend?" someone called, head craned upside down over the rim of the couch. His blond hair fell in a staticy halo around his face.

"He's not my friend," Bakugou snapped.

Well, at least Izuku could cross that option off the list. A bit more clarity, even if it stung like alcohol on an open wound.

"A lover, then?"

Izuku looked down to see a boy no taller than a fire hydrant leering up at him in a manner that was nakedly lecherous. He waggled eyebrows at Kacchan, who snarled menacingly. It wasn't a definitive no, though.

"Well Deku, are these heroes-in-training everything you ever dreamed of?" Bakugou said it sarcastically, but Izuku couldn't help but nod. Yes, these people were clearly amazing. He could just tell they had all sorts of amazing quirks from the way they looked. A mixture of mutants and extreme genotypes–there were a couple of boys sitting in the corner reading manga, one with a chromatic split down the center, the other with elbows chunky enough they looked like they belonged on a cheap action figure.

"Everyone here is so amazing," Izuku agreed.

"Bet it makes you feel out of place, huh?" Katsuki elbowed him roughly and sneered.

"Bakugou," a girl at the table gasped, "don't be rude to your friend!"

"Oh, he knows it's true, don't you, nerd?"

Bakugou turned to him and smirked, and it was lascivious enough to put the purple boy's to shame. Then, in public, in front of everyone there as a witness, Bakugou reached out and grabbed a fistful of Midoriya's shirt, hauling him forward.

"Come on," he said, "let's take this to the bedroom."

Izuku almost expired right there. Katsuki had to be doing this on purpose, one more way to claim ownership of Izuku. And right now, Izuku couldn't complain. He followed along at Katsuki's heels, anticipation in every step.

Unfortunately, anticipation was all he got. Once in the room, Bakugou pulled Izuku's pants down, and briefly Izuku was braced for a good time. However, all the boy did was work in his tail and then leave him alone, letting Deku curl up on the rug while Bakugou ignored him in favor of homework.

It wasn't sexy, but… it wasn't so bad. There was nothing to worry about, nothing to do. He could doze contently on the rug, within reach of Bakugou.

Deku wanted to stay there for the rest of his life, curled up at Kacchan's feet as his trusted pet. However, the fact remained that he didn't belong here, and the hour was growing late.

"U-um, will we get in trouble if I'm here past… visiting hours or whatever?" Izuku asked. The light from the window had gone from golden to auburn, coating the inside of Bakugou's room in dusk.

"Let me worry about that," Bakugou replied, not looking up from his homework.

He sounded so casual, so confident, that it was easy to let go of worry and believe him. If Kacchan said it was all right, then it would be all right. And truthfully, Izuku didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay here for the rest of his life, content to be curled around Katsuki's feet. He was feeling that fuzziness at the edges of his mind, the signal that he was slipping out of nervous, joykill Izuku and into soft, carefree doggy Deku. Like this, his brain couldn't worry about half the stuff that normally kept it trapped in an anxious hamster wheel. He was content.

Bakugou wasn't. The boy finally snapped his book shut, the reverberation of covers kissing sending Midoriya into alert. Meeting his gaze, Bakugou smiled and said, "I'm thirsty. Let's go downstairs."

Izuku did his best to shake off the puppy brain, stumbling to his feet and feeling the pins and needles of his legs coming awake after so long crouched. He had to get his tail out, had to get his pants on, had to remember how to be human. Going back to being a person felt like stepping out into a cold morning. He knew he'd acclimate quickly, but the transition was terrible. However, Katsuki wasn't about to wait around. The boy was already out the door, leaving Izuku to scramble after.

The dorms were quieter. It wasn't too late, around nine in the evening, but many of the students were holed up in their rooms, studying. At a school this intense, it only made sense that most students would spend the late hours of the night hammering away on homework.

Except, it would seem, the three occupants of the common room. As Bakugou led Midoriya downstairs, he noticed the three boys on the couch, playing video games and chattering away. They were so absorbed in the screen that they didn't even look up as the pair made for the kitchen, Izuku observing them out of the corner of his eye. Purple, yellow, and black, arranged by height on the couch and paying them no mind.

Bakugou got his drink, draining a glass of water in long pulls, letting a single bead slide down his throat and trace his Adam's apple. Midoriya tried not to stare at it, tried not to be obvious in his lust. He wanted to push Bakugou against the kitchen counter, place his mouth against that soft swell of flesh and suck. He imagined himself on top of Bakugou, the boy beneath him and giving that playful, confident smile, the one that meant he was happy and relaxed. Midoriya imagined his tongue traveling up and down that body, Bakugou's fingers wound in his hair and muttering "Good boy."

Maybe his fantasies were written on his face–maybe Bakugou just wanted the same thing. Whatever the case, the blond set his glass down with a thud, turning and pressing Izuku back against the countertop. His body was big enough to engulf the smaller boy completely. Warm, rough hands gripped at Izuku's shoulderblades, anchoring him still, and that mouth locked over his. Bakugou didn't kiss so much as battle for dominance–and he won every time. Midoriya wasn't about to push him off or stop it, not when Kacchan's tongue was teasing the inside of his lips.

Behind them, on the couch, there was an explosive yell. Izuku felt his heart leap, cartwheel, barely stick the landing. He was here, shivering in Bakugou's arms, his mouth currently getting tongue-fucked by the other boy, in plain sight of his classmates. It was like Bakugou didn't care about them being seen together.

The chattering behind them resumed, indicating that the boys were too distracted by the television to notice Katsuki sucking Izuku's soul out through his mouth. Maybe they would never notice.

But maybe they would.

The thought sent equal parts terror and delight through Izuku. He wanted the world to see. He wanted some outside confirmation that what he and Bakugou had wasn't just… some wild misinterpretation.

Strange he was still concerned about that with Bakugou's hand worming down his pants. Those hands weren't satisfied holding him in place. They had to search, burrowing inside his clothing. Midoriya wanted to tell him that no, they shouldn't, someone might see, it would be too dangerous. He knew Bakugou wouldn't listen. Just like before, when Izuku had been worried about staying too late and getting in trouble, he knew Katsuki would insist on taking the lead. These days, Izuku was more than happy to let him. The boy was so confident, so smart. If he felt like he knew what he was doing, Izuku would trust in him.

So here he was, Bakugou's forefinger tapping at his asshole like it was a doorbell and he was a rushed deliveryman. The tailplug from before in the dorm room had ensured that Izuku was prepped, his hole still a little slick, loosened. It meant that it didn't take much effort for Bakugou to stick one finger inside up to the fist knuckle.

Immediately, Midoriya felt a pulse through his entire body. His dick throbbed. He still wore the cage, as always these days, but it felt less like a punishment and more like a promise. He didn't need to worry about getting himself off. Bakugou would be there, taking care of all his needs. Midoriya just had to relax and let him do his work.

The finger wiggled in further, brushing against Izuku's prostate. It was just a glance, more like the soft rise and fall of beachside waves than the crashing of a storm. All the same, Izuku felt sound bubbling in his throat, threatening to spill over. His fingers dug into Bakugou's back, his knees clamped around the other boy's waist. He wanted to speak up, to tell Bakugou to slow down, be careful. Maybe beg for him to take this somewhere more private. However, he knew that the next sound out of his mouth would be a moan, and he had to do everything in his power to prevent that from happening.

Bakugou added a second finger, and then it was all over for him. Midoriya's eyes clamped shut even as his jaw went slack. He felt full in the sort of way that made him forget he couldn't even touch his dick. It was that pressure from within, turning everything floaty and distant like his head was lodged firmly inside the cumulus folds of cloud nine. Absolutely unfazed by his reaction, Bakugou continued to rub and rub at the insides of his walls, worrying that nub with feral intent. He knew exactly what sort of effect he had on Izuku.

It took a few moments, but after the first wave of sublime satisfaction, Izuku realized that the clamor from the couch had stopped. There was only silence punctuated by his gasping breaths.

"B-Bakugou?"

Izuku didn't know which of the boys had spoken. In the grand scheme of things, it didn't really matter. They all had to have noticed, and no doubt were eyeing him even now, seeing him contorted in Bakugou's arms and writhing in pleasure.

"You nerds act like you've never seen anyone get some."

Bakugou's mouth was so close to Midoriya's ear, chin perched on his shoulder. Izuku both heard and felt the satisfied rumble in his chest. It was like a contented cat, revelling in what it had. Midoriya was the little mouse caught between his claws, a morsel flaunted to the world.

"So," Bakugou purred, "any of you bold enough to come try this pup out?"

Izuku felt his heart stop beating for a moment. He had to be crazy, hallucinating. There was no way Bakugou would just… pimp him out like that. Bakugou didn't share. Ever. He had given Izuku a black eye when they were four and Izuku had tried to grab the controller from him.

But then again… how would his friends know what they were missing out on if they never had a sample? In a twisted, Bakugou-ian way, it made sense. In order for other people to understand just how superior Bakugou was, they had to understand what they were missing.

It took only a breath before a volunteer was found.

"Me!" gasped a voice, followed by a mad scramble. Midoriya looked down–and down some more. There was the purple boy standing there, looking up at him like Izuku was the last slice of pie and it was time for seconds.

"I've already done you the favor of getting him ready. Now you'll just have to reach."

Bakugou hauled Midoriya forward until he was lying across the countertop. He felt like a pig on a platter, missing only the apple in his mouth. Bakugou's hands made short work of his belt, his pants. He slipped them down, and Deku felt the cold air in the room like a smack right across his exposed buttocks. He whimpered and squirmed, but Bakugou was there with a hand to his neck.

"Be still and be good and there'll be a treat in this for you."

With his owner so close, hands on his body, Deku found himself steadying. He was aware of someone playing with his back end, a stranger's fingers probing him, and it was unpleasant. However, this was what Bakugou wanted him to do. Sometimes puppies needed to stand still and get their shots, and Deku was determined to be a good dog.

This other boy was rough with him. He handled Deku with equal parts haste and inexperience, pushing in too fast, not giving him time to adjust. Deku couldn't help but whimper.

"Uh, is he okay?"

The other two boys had been lulled over, absolutely captivated by the spectacle. However, they both stood a distance away, as if unsure about getting too close.

"He's fine," Bakugou assured. "He lives for this sort of shit, don't you, Deku?"

Squeezing his eyes shut, Deku nodded. The boy behind him was thrusting now. Fortunately, his dick was miniscule compared to Kacchan's. That meant it didn't hurt much, but it also felt more frustrating than satisfying. His cock twitched inside its cage, hopeful for release. It would have to be patient.

"So are you nerds gonna join in, or are you just gonna stand there gawking like two awkward virgins?" Bakugou teased.

The blond and the bucktooth exchanged a brief, horrified glance. Leave it to Bakugou to know how to work a fragile teenage ego. Both quickly shuffled out of their trousers and towards Deku.

"Um, if you wouldn't mind," the tall, lanky one said apologetically, holding his dick out. His dick was lanky, too, long and thin–more awkward than elegant. Deku let his mouth loll open, tongue extended. He needed to be filled, and the purple boy wasn't giving enough.

While Deku bobbed up and down on that long, slender dick, the blond anxiously offered his own cock, as if afraid of being left out. Deku didn't want anyone to feel left out (didn't want anyone to feel that pain he had felt so long himself), so he reached over and began working with his hand.

It took a lot of coordination to service three dicks at once. Deku was a bit woozy with it all, overstimulated and overwhelmed. Even in the midst of it, he couldn't help but look over at Bakugou, eager as always to read the man's mood.

Bakugou was staring intently at the cluster of thrusting, grunting boys. His own arms were folded across his chest, his look feral and victorious like a panther that had just taken its prey. Maybe Kacchan wasn't directly involved in the current mosh pit of bodies, but he was absolutely getting some sexual stimulation from this. Seeing Deku overwhelmed, seeing his classmates realize what they were missing out on–that was his aphrodisiac.

Deku could have done without all these strangers and their strange bodies. He wanted Kacchan, not them. However, he also wanted to please Kacchan, and right now that meant sucking it up and enduring.

They were finally working out a tempo, a rhythm of pulling and sucking and rocking that let everyone get a little bit of stimulation, when the door creaked open.

Everyone froze mid thrust. Deku had a dick half in his mouth, another cupped in one sweaty palm. He heard a tense grumble behind him and then a tiny dousing of liquid, the shock pushing at least one boy over the edge.

The two boys in front of him spun around to look, and past the jut of their hips Deku could make out a shock of red and white hair. He remembered that boy–his appearance was hard to forget.

There were several beats of silence, everyone sizing each other up. The split man's gaze darted around the scene, his eyes narrowing the more he took in. Finally, he looked at Bakugou and said, "Why wasn't I invited?"

The tension diffused like a bubble popping. Chuckling, the boys in front of Deku turned back around and resumed their positions. Bakugou scoffed and said, "You think you can handle it? Mineta finished early. Take his place."

The stranger shuffled over, and Deku heard the serpent hiss of a zipper. It took only a few moments before something grazed against his cheeks, rubbing back and forth and smearing everything already accumulated there. Deku couldn't turn around–not with his mouth full–but he felt the stranger's hand on his back. It was hot, like the unexpected kiss of sun-drenched metal slide to unsuspecting child buttocks. Izuku whined and shivered. This served only to rile up everyone around him, make them go harder.

"Yeah, you like that?" Bakugou purred. Even without looking, Izuku could hear the smirk on his face. This was a victory to him, a triumph over his classmates. "You're lucky I decided to share. But think–I get that asshole every night. Any time I want. Tomorrow when you're humping your greasy hand, you'll be thinking of this."

Ah, now I understand why he wanted to do this.

It wasn't just about humiliating Deku, although that was almost certainly a perk. No, it was about evoking envy. Bakugou loved to be looked upon in admiration. He loved living in people's minds rent free. Needed it like oxygen. And if Deku could help him accomplish that, then perhaps he was fulfilling his purpose as man's best friend.

So Deku relaxed and gave himself over to the sensation. This was even deeper than normal puppyspace, a feeling almost of having no brain at all. There was only physical stimulus, and his frantic, half-formed desire to keep up with it. He heard the breathing, the grunting, felt a myriad of hands touching him, handling him. He moved bonelessly, contorting this way and that to give better access. Physically it might have been uncomfortable, but mentally he felt as if he was floating.

One by one, the boys circling him came. They weren't particularly discerning about where they did it, and the result was Izuku being an absolute mess. Was this what it meant to be defiled? He felt dirty down to his soul. He felt like not even a thousand showers could get him clean.

But as the other boys pulled away, teenage sex drives temporarily sated, Bakugou was still there. The look on his face was triumphant–pleased. That was the best kind of Bakugou to be around, and a rare occurrence.

Reaching out, Bakugou ran his hands through Izuku's hair, not even fazed by the glob of cum stuck there.

"You did good," he said. "Good boy."

Izuku was tired, gross, uncomfortable. But still, he found a way to be happy.

If he had a tail, it would have been wagging.