Chapter Text
The first time Bakugou Katsuki found himself with a muzzle over his face, he was six years old. His primary school teacher had told him to stop being so disruptive during silent reading time. Bakugou had tried, he really had, but the classroom was just a little too hot that day, his hands were a little too sweaty, his quirk was just a little too new .
"I can't help it!" He had barked at his teacher.
"Kacchan!" Midoriya had whispered, tugging down on Bakugou's shirt. "You're going to get in trouble!"
Midoriya meant well, Bakugou knew that even then, but he couldn't stop himself from looking down and ripping his hand off of his shirt.
"Ouch!" Midoriya yelped, retracting his hand in an instant.
“God, shut up , Deku!” Bakugou groaned. He was going to open his mouth again to start spewing insults, but he could faintly see steam floating in the air above Midoriya’s wrist.
Oh. He had burned him.
“Bakugou Katsuki, get over here right now!” His teacher screamed at him. “That was not okay and you know it!”
“Let me go! You-you loser!” Bakugou was being dragged out into the hallway, small spots of blood forming where his teacher’s nails dug into his skin. “Let me go!”
His teacher pushed Bakugou against the wall, arm against his throat. “I am going to give you one chance, young man. Apologise to me for your bad behavior, and then go back in there and apologise for injuring your friend.”
Bakugou turned his head, struggling to speak with the pressure on his throat. “No. I’m not apologising for an accident. And I’m not apologising to Deku because he’s not my friend .”
His teacher scoffed before a metal object appeared in his hand. Bakugou hated his creation quirk. He only ever used it to punish students—he had created rulers to smack their wrists with and thick books to hit them over the head with. Bakugou had seen multiple things like that created, but he had never seen the object in his teacher's hand now.
“If you aren't going to apologise, then I don't think you should be able to speak at all.”
“What—” Bakugou’s words were cut off as his teacher shoved a muzzle over his nose and mouth. A long strip of metal connected to the bridge of the muzzle stretched from his nose to the top of his head where it branched into three more strips. Two strips stretched the top of his ears, holding the muzzle in place. The last strip connected to the strap underneath his ears that banded across the bottom of his head. The entire contraption was tightened almost too much, just to make sure Bakugou wouldn't be able to slip out of it.
“You can sit out here and reflect on your actions. I hope you correct your behaviour when I come back.”
Bakugou brought his hands up to his face when his teacher disappeared back into the classroom. His fingertips met cool metal, the edges sharp enough to cut him. “Hemph!” He couldn't speak. He could barely open his mouth. The slightest movement caused the edges on the inside of the muzzle to slice almost right through his skin. He blinked away tears at the pain. He tried to burn the muzzle off his face, explode it into bits, but it didn't work. It only hurt him more.
At one point, Bakugou had to give up on his attempts to remove the muzzle from his face. His face was too warm and the air smelled too much like smoke.
Bakugou couldn't remember at what point in time his teacher decided to remove the muzzle.
He just remembered trying to stay as still as possible.
-
The second time Bakugou was muzzled, he was eleven years old. Funnily enough, it was with the same muzzle his primary teacher had created that day. He had handed it over to Bakugou’s parents at the end of the day, a hushed promise that it would serve as a rather good tool in correcting their son’s poor attitude and behaviour.
After a long day at school filled with failing grades and multiple trips to the office for disciplinary action, Bakugou snapped at his mother when she arrived home from her job.
“How was school?” She had asked. It was a harmless question, one that parents all around the world used to try and get closer to their children. It was supposed to be a harmless question because it truly was just that.
But Bakugou swore he could see the venom hidden behind her words, the anger laced between the syllables. So he bit back.
“It was shit.” He spat. “I failed my tests and—”
“Katsuki!” His mother slammed her hand over his mouth in an instant. “You do not speak to me like that.”
“You asked!” Bakugou meant yell, but it came out as a muffled “Mm amphd!”
His mother dragged him to the kitchen sink, and replaced her hand with the top of an open dish soap bottle.
Bakugou gagged, spitting the soap right back at his mother. “What the fuck is your problem!”
“You need to clean your mouth out after those foul words that just came out of it,”
“Okay! Okay, god!” Bakugou wiped at his tongue with his hands, desperately trying to get the taste out of his mouth. “I’m done! It’s fucking clean!”
“Yes, you are done, Katsuki.” His mother reached into a cupboard underneath the sink, muzzle in her hand as it retracted.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Bakugou had been threatened with the muzzle on so many different occasions, but he had never had it forced on him since primary school. “I don't know why you bring that thing out if you're not going to use it!”
“I don't know why I even try with you anymore, Katsuki.” His mother shook her head, reaching for the bottle of soap again. “I’ve been nothing but kind to you your whole life. I defended you against Izuku’s mother after you hurt her son; I told her you were going to change.”
Bakugou huffed, spitting soap at his feet. “Nothing but kind?” He scoffed. “Maybe at one point, but now, you just threaten me all the fucking time! It’s like Jekyll and Hyde with you! One minute you want to be the best mom in the world to me, and the next you act like I’m not even your son!”
“I can’t even believe you are my son sometimes!” His mother shoved the dish soap into his mouth once again. “I don't know where I went wrong with you, Katsuki!” She threw the bottle of soap on the floor, slamming the muzzle over Bakugou’s head immediately after.
When it finally hit Bakugou that his mother had really shoved a muzzle over his head, he gets her she strap it as tight as she could before she stepped back. Then, she brought a hand up to Bakugou’s cheek, stroking it softly. “I don't know why you make me do this, Katsuki.” She sighed. “I don't know why you can't just be a good kid,”
Bakugou’s face burned with humiliation. The muzzle itself was enough, but what made it all the more worse for him was that it was made for his younger face, the one that was much smaller than it was now. Even without moving his face, the muzzle still dug into his skin, no doubt causing major bleeding.
He tried to spit the soap out of his mouth, but it just ended up pooling at his chin like from, sobleeding into the slashes from the muzzle, causing the worst pain Bakugou had ever felt.
“You can go to your room and reflect on your actions. I expect your attitude to be world’s better than it is right now when I return to take this off of you.”
As Bakugou sat in his room, he let the dish soap pass through his lips, let it seep into the wounds across his face.
He didn't even try to blast the muzzle off his face, despite knowing his quirk had developed immensely since primary school. He just sat on the floor in front of his bed, balled his hands into fists, and told himself that this would be the last time.
-
The third time Bakugou was muzzled, he was fourteen years old. Technically speaking, it wasn't really a muzzle at all, but the effects it had on him were all the same.
Only hours before the incident, Bakugou had looked Midoriya, his childhood friend, dead in the eyes and told him to take a swan dive off of the school roof. He had told him to kill himself just to keep his reputation up.
What better way to make it known that he was the most powerful person than to tear down those weaker than him just because he could?
Bakugou had left his middle school that afternoon with his head held high and his shoulders relaxed. He felt on top of the world. Midoriya had looked genuinely terrified, or at the very least, it looked like Bakugou’s words had really gotten through to him. Maybe he would finally stop pestering Bakugou. Maybe he would finally realise that despite their closeness during childhood, they were worlds apart now.
“Dude, what is that!” Bakugou only had a split second to look at his friend who had just spoke before his entire body was covered in a thick, green sludge.
“Hey!” Bakugou’s words were quickly shoved right back down his throat, followed by that horrid sludge only moments later.
“‘ve got you now, boy!” The warbled voice of the sludge villain rang through Bakugou’s head.
He tried to shake his head, stretch his neck forwards in an attempt to breathe, but it was of no use. He was suffocating and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't argue, couldn't bite back, couldn't fight. All he could do was set off explosions with the parts of his hands that weren’t yet covered in sludge.
“Hey, there's a kid over there!” Bakugou heard someone shout. “That villain’s got a kid!”
It was a woman, about his mother’s age. She had a finger pointed in Bakugou’s direction, her other hand clamped over her mouth in horror. People were crowding around her now. Did Bakugou see a few pro heroes in that crowd?
“Someone! H–” Bakugou’s words fizzled out in his throat. Even then, with his entire body being taken over by some sort of monstrous villain, Bakugou couldn't bring himself to ask for help. He had already tarnished his reputation enough by being the victim of such an attack—he wasn't about to make his reputation even worse by asking for help.
“Yeah, don’ make this harder th’n‘t needs t’be,” The villain's voice sounded. “Jus’ let it happen,”
Bakugou’s explosions were becoming stronger, more dangerous. Why wasn't anybody coming to rescue him? To save him? There were pro heroes only feet away from him, so why weren't they helping him?
The fear was setting in now, taking over the places the sludge couldn't reach—his mind, his heart. He was being taken over by a villain, practically on death’s doorstep, but he couldn't admit even to himself that he was scared. He tried to ground himself, but all he could think was that he was muzzled, and he was going to die. He was going to die behind a muzzle.
Everything kind of melted together after that. He remembered seeing Midoriya running through the flames, his eyes locked straight on Bakugou. He remembered thinking that Midoriya was an idiot for running out—he was quirkless, there was no way in hell he was going to stop this villain.
But, all of a sudden, it wasn't Midoriya in front of him anymore. It was All Might. Why was he so late?
The next time Bakugou was fully conscious, he was laid in his own bed, his mother standing over him. She left his side as soon as his eyes opened. She didn't return for the rest of the night.
-
The fourth time Bakugou ended up behind a muzzle, he was sixteen years old at the top school for heroes. And in front of the entirety of Japan, yet again, Bakugou was stuck behind a muzzle. And, almost exactly like last time, his entire body was being forced still. His hands were chained together and stuffed in concrete blocks, effectively preventing him from using his quirk.
And exactly like the last time, the pro heroes around did absolutely nothing to stop what was happening to him. In fact, they were cheering. They were applauding the UA staff for rendering him practically immobile.
Bakugou was horrified at the sight before him. When did the heroes of Japan stop being heroes?
Bakugou forgot how to breathe properly. He told himself in through his nose, out through his mouth, but all that he could do was scream—raw and guttural. He set off explosions inside the concrete blocks, but they just burned his skin, hurt him even more. He struggled against the chains, begging himself to just be strong enough to escape.
As the audience watched Bakugou be awarded the medal for first place, they erupted into cheers, standing up and screaming, holding each other as they jumped with glee.
They celebrated the containment of Bakugo like they would celebrate a national sports win.
And Bakugou just didn't understand.
Why was it that every time he was shoved under a muzzle, or lost his human right to just exist freely, the people of Japan acted almost as if it were normal?
Why did they celebrate every time Bakugou was treated like a villain?