Archive of Our Own

“Surprised to see you here!” Eijirou says over the loud music, clapping Bakugou on the shoulder.

He leans against the kitchen counter next to him, switching his cup to his other hand and getting comfortable. It’s not too crowded in here, but there’s enough people coming and going that he wants to get a spot away from the flow of traffic.

He accidentally bumps one of Bakugou’s elbows while he adjusts and mutters a quiet oops under his breath. “Sorry, man. You want a drink?”

Bakugou bares his teeth at him, moving his stool to get further away.

“Fuck off,” he grouches. Wow, he’s grumpier than Eijirou thought he’d be.

Both arms are held behind him, elbows flat on the counter and hands hanging limply as Bakugou slumps further down the stool. He’s got a single foot resting on the stool, the other planted on the floor, and a scowl on his face as he glares at the living room from the breakfast bar. Whenever someone gets too close, he bares his teeth, fists clenching until they run off.

Everything about him screams unapproachable and uncomfortable.

Lucky for him, Eijirou is here! He can’t call himself his best friend if he were to leave him sitting alone in the corner at a party!

Although the fact that Bakugou is here at all is a mystery.

“No, but seriously, why are you here? You avoid these kinds of parties like they’re the plague,” he asks, leaning in closer to be heard.

Bakugou rolls his eyes, heel bouncing against the floor at a quick tempo.

“Stupid fucking Deku wanted to come but the bastard ain’t here yet.”

Eijirou’s mouth opens, understanding dawning on his face.

Yeah, that makes sense. If Midoriya wanted to come, Bakugou would never let him come alone, and Midoriya would want Bakugou to come to get him to socialize with people more. Four years of university and he still hasn’t given up. He’s gotta give props to the man.

The man that is coming to the party in a few minutes, ready to let loose and relax.

His pulse picks up a bit, the information finally settling in. Midoriya is coming! To see Bakugou, of course, but still.

Eijirou stands a little straighter, looks down to make sure his crocs are in sports mode. They are, though he nudges the back of his left foot with his right to make sure it’s firmly in place. Nice. Ready to rock.

Good thing he did his hair today. Usually, after he gets out of the gym, he doesn’t bother slicking it back up. Maybe he should have brought a headband anyway. He pats self-consciously at the back of his head and looks back at Bakugou.

He’s staring at him, eyes narrowing, and Eijirou rushes to think of something to say.

“Ohhh, yeah, makes sense,” he draws out to stall for time. He picks up his cup, talks around the rim before taking a drink. “He’s still at work?”

“Nah, his shift is over. Should be here soon. Fucking slow as hell with those fucking geriatric bones…” Bakugou trails off, mumbling under his breath and fists clenching. He finally looks away, but not without one more suspicious glare.

Eijirou just takes another sip, looking out at the crowd. He’s gotta get a better handle on himself before Midoriya shows up.

Who will be showing up soon. Very soon. He tries to tamp down his smile, not sure if Bakugou is still glaring at him or not.

Eijirou won’t drink too much tonight, then, even though it looks like they’ve got fun games scheduled. It’s especially loud in the living room, a crowd of people pressed into one corner where there’s a drinking contest between one member from a frat and a sorority. It looks like the tiny chick is drinking the dude under the table despite being half his height.

“Whoo!” he cheers, lifting his cup in solidarity. Bakugou clicks his tongue, so Eijirou does it again, loud enough to get her attention. “You got this!”

She turns at his yell, lifting her next shot above her head and yelling back, “Yeah!”

She downs it and slams it on to the plastic table, shivering a little.

“Whoo!” she yells again, flexing her arms and jumping in place when the other dude starts to lean a little too far to the left. Her short bob sways as she jumps and yells, brown strands sticking to her face with sweat.

He squints his eyes, hand slowly lowering. Is that… Uraraka?

“Hey, hey look, is that Uraraka?” he asks, nudging Bakugou with his elbow. “The sorority chick with the bob. That’s Midoriya’s friend, right?”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he snaps, and looks towards the corner Eijirou is pointing at. “And obviously. Get some goddamn glasses."

Uraraka looks back over to them as if she heard them, fists raised in triumph as she yells.

“Fuck you!” she calls, making eye contact with Bakugou.

“Eat a dick!” Bakugou yells back, lifting an arm off the counter to flip her off.

Eijirou just sends her a thumbs up, laughing at the flush to her face and crazed expression. Wow, she is having a great night.

The noise in the house suddenly rises, the crowd yelling in near synchronicity as the front door opens and someone new steps through. It draws his attention away from Uraraka to the open hallway between the kitchen and the front of the house.

The new person closes the door behind them, calls out a happy, “Hello!” and damn near the entire house responds, regardless of if they know who it is or not.

Eijirou can’t get a clear view of the person walking in, but he can tell they’re on the shorter side and extremely friendly as they make their way through the crowd, stopping for brief hugs and hellos.

“You know who that is?” Eijirou asks, craning his neck to get a better view. “Can’t see ‘em.”

“Fucking finally,” Bakugou mutters, but the tension in his shoulders has relaxed somewhat, foot quiet against the linoleum. “Took all damn night.”

“Who?”

Eijirou leans back to follow his line of sight and can’t stop the smile blooming on his face.

“Izuku!” he calls out immediately, waving a hand at him and beckoning him over with a tad too much excitement.

Bakugou twitches, full body coming to attention and turning an incredulous look his way, but Eijirou can’t be bothered to entertain him when Midoriya’s finally cleared through the crowd and is approaching them with a heart-stealing smile.

He should probably be more careful, hide the adoration or the heat in his voice, but it can’t be helped. He is a simple man and Midoriya is a detriment to all simple men everywhere.

He enters the kitchen in a dark, well-worn sweatshirt and gym shorts (they’re a bit on the smaller size, riding up his thighs to show off well-sculpted quads and good lord Eijirou is not strong enough), keys in one hand and messy hair pushed back with a thin, black headband. Some of the strands are falling out, and he still has some flour on his forehead from the bakery, lips shining a bit too much to be just spit or sweat. He’s wearing shin high All Might socks and the crocs Eijirou gave him for his birthday a couple months ago.

They’re also in sports mode.

He thinks he may have fallen in love just a little more right there.

He clears his throat, shuffling in place a little. Wow, that is not a good sign for him.

“Eijirou!” Midoriya calls out, voice a little breathy as he jogs closer.

Eijirou makes a strange sound, hopefully lost in the noisy atmosphere, but his strangled smile garners far more side-eyes.

They recently started calling each other by their first name at Midoriya’s insistence, saying that they’ve been friends long enough for them to address each other more familiarly.

It was easy enough to refer to him as Izuku, but hearing his name in that voice? Always a little happy and enthusiastic? It is so not good for his heart.

“Hey-!” he starts, voice cracking, heart pounding, but Midoriya cuts him off unknowingly.

“Kacchan!” he calls, just like he did to Eijirou – but he says it with such excitement and affection that Eijirou’s name sounded like he was reading it from the dictionary.

“Deku,” Bakugou grunts. As soon as Midoriya is within grabbing reach, he wraps his hands around Midoriya’s arms and pulls him in.

Much more quietly, he greets him with, “Baby,” pressing a kiss to Midoriya’s lips and smirking when he flushes happily.

Eijirou only heard that because he’s standing so close, bumped into their little circle as more people show up the later it gets. He almost wishes he hadn’t, but he’s far too used to it by now.

Whoever spends extended time with Bakugou and Midoriya inevitably ends up three-wheeling them and honestly only Todoroki ever seems happy about it. Midoriya apologizes whenever he notices, but Bakugou feels no shame ignoring everyone when he's around his boyfriend. In fact, he encourages the uncomfortable feeling, glad when they're eventually left to their own devices.

“Hi,” Midoriya says, quiet and soft.

Eijirou foolishly almost thinks it’s said to him.

He kisses Bakugou again, short and sweet, and goes to pull out of his arms. Bakugou doesn’t let him, hands moving from Midoriya’s arms to his waist.

“Oi,” he says, brow furrowing. “Where are you going? I’m not done.”

“But Eijirou is right th-”

“Focus on me, Deku,” he says, cutting Midoriya off with his mouth. “Fuck him.”

Midoriya doesn’t need any extra convincing.

They’re almost of equal height, with Bakugou slumped on the stool and Midoriya standing between his legs. Eijirou watches them lazily kiss from the corner of his eyes, equal shame and desire churning in his gut.

He tries to keep himself busy with his drink, wincing when someone bumps into him and he stumbles close enough the hear the sound Midoriya makes when his lip is bit.

A little breathy, the hint of a whine before it’s muffled again.

Jesus, he doesn’t know if he can do this today.

He didn’t drink too much before he found Bakugou, but he’s kind of wishing he had if only to numb the right feelings.

He goes to get another drink instead of creeping on how Midoriya’s eyebrows furrow at new angles of their kiss but avoids the punch bowls – he’s not trying to forget tonight.

When he comes back, another cup in his hand in case Midoriya also wanted one, Midoriya has turned around to face Eijirou while he leans into Bakugou’s hold, resting lightly against one of his thighs. He’s still standing, head pressed in the divot of Bakugou’s shoulder and neck, but Bakugou has wrapped himself completely around him. Both his arms are banded tight around Midoriya’s waist and the leg on the stool’s kicked off to wrap an ankle around Midoriya’s leg.

He's holding Midoriya like someone would try and take him away, chin pressing against green curls. Eijirou can’t imagine who would, or could even, considering how glued together they are.

(And Midoriya can only say “Kacchan sugoi” so many times before it starts sounding like the catchphrase of a new religion. Or cult. He could see Midoriya starting a cult, no sweat.)

It doesn’t stop Eijirou’s gaze from wandering over Midoriya’s body, stopping a little too long on red lips and the dimple on his left cheek.

He’s got a bite mark surrounding it.

Eijirou shakes his head a little, forcing his eyes back up.

It’s not cool to ogle your friend. Not manly to lust after him in the first place, but Eijirou has sort of given up on that line of thinking after waking up with messy boxers one too many times.

He freezes when he meets Bakugou’s gaze, narrowed red eyes a bit too sharp. His arms wind tighter around Midoriya.

Shit.

“Getting real fucking cute with each other, eh?” Bakugou asks, a hand spreading wide over Midoriya’s waist and gripping tight. It looks like it’d be painful, except Midoriya scoots back even more, fingers threading over Bakugou’s and holding him there.

He tries to beat down the longing in his chest to do the same, to bring Midoriya close and know that no matter how hard he squeezed Midoriya would pull him closer.

“What do you mean, Kacchan?” Midoriya asks, tipping his head back.

“Since when did you start calling each other by your first names?”

“Oh, heh. Well,” Eijirou says, blushing a little. He scrubs the back of his head, averting eye contact.

“Since I asked him to!” Midoriya says brightly, turning back to smile at Eijirou. “I mean, we’ve been friends for so long now, it just feels right, you know?”

“Yeah,” he says, heart in his throat. “Feels right.”

“Is that so.” Bakugou doesn’t look convinced. “Better not start with me, asshole.”

“Kacchan, c’mon,” Midoriya protests, but Eijirou gets it.

They’re close friends, but Bakugou’s only allowed certain privileges to Midoriya. Maybe in a few years’ time he’ll be a little more chill about it all – with Midoriya’s help, of course.

“Hey, did you know Uraraka’s here?” he asks to switch the focus off him. Well, sort of.

Midoriya looks back at him, smiling wide, and Eijirou is caught like fly to honey.

“Yeah,” he laughs. The hand not laced with Bakugou’s rests on his thigh, fingering the hem of his shorts and drawing the fabric up. It’s distracting, especially since Midoriya doesn’t seem to realize they’re riding high enough to show the hem of his boxers. They’re a dark red, Eijirou’s favorite color. “I texted her earlier to borrow these shorts because mine got too dirty at the bakery, and she told me she was already here pre-gaming. So, I just took them from her car.”

“She’s going hard tonight,” he says, a little dazed.

His eyes flick back up, stares at Midoriya's side profile as he looks into the living room where the game seems to have ended. He laughs at Uraraka sitting high on Iida’s shoulders, starting a cheer for her victory with zero shame.

“Uraraka has been looking forward to this all week,” he says, cheering her on a little.

He’s got a lock of hair curling right above his ear, resting on the cartilage almost gently.

Eijirou squeezes his cup tighter so he doesn’t do something stupid like brush it away, but he squeezes two cups instead of just one.

“Oh, right, Izuku,” he says, getting a little rush as he says it. “Don’t know how much you’re up to tonight, but here.”

He offers the other cup he got for him forward, and Midoriya goes to reach for it but a slender hand snatches it up first.

“What’s this?” Bakugou asks, pulling it close to his face and sniffing the contents with a frown. “Shitty beer.”

“Did you want one, too? Sorry, I figured since I offered earlier…” Eijirou says, trailing off.

“No,” he says, and tips the cup back. “Deku can share.”

Eijirou looks at Midoriya with raised eyebrows, just to make sure, but Midoriya waves him off.

“Yeah, it’s fine, but thank you, Eijirou!”

He smiles at him, then takes the cup from Bakugou. Midoriya’s throat bobs when he swallows, taking a big drink before handing the cup back.

Eijirou stares too long, he knows. He can't help it.

When they’ve emptied the cup between them, Bakugou sets it down on the counter with a decisive sound.

“Up, Deku.” He pats Midoriya’s hip, pushing him off his thigh.

Midoriya moves off without question but keeps his hand linked with Bakugou’s.

“Do you need the bathroom, Kacchan?”

He stands up to his full height, towering over Midoriya and most of the people standing around. There’s still a wide berth of empty space around them, but a few interested gazes flick their way at the reveal. Bakugou doesn’t even notice.

Standing like that, tucked into Bakugou’s side, Midoriya looks tiny, like Eijirou could wrap his hands around his waist and lift him easily. Could move him where he wants him, cover him with his entire body.

Bakugou slips his hand from Midoriya’s to the gaping space between the hoodie and the back of his neck, laying his full palm there with practiced motions.

He grunts instead of answering, glancing at Eijirou with that strange look in his eyes. “I’ll be back. Five minutes, tops.”

Bakugou looks away from him when Midoriya tilts his head up for a goodbye kiss. He pulls him in with the grip on his neck, looking down at him in silence. When Midoriya pushes up on his tiptoes, impatient, he ducks his head down and he bites Midoriya’s lip instead of giving him a full kiss, keeping hold of it between his teeth as he pulls away.

“Keep your eyes on your phone,” he says once he’s pulled away.

Midoriya nods, but Eijirou is confused, especially when Bakugou looks at him, red eyes glinting in the hard light.

“With me, Shitty Hair.”

Eijirou blinks, blindly setting his cup down behind him. Been a while since he heard that one. Bakugou’s in a mood tonight.

“Sure, man.”

He follows Bakugou up the stairs of the house, ducking near the top to wave at Midoriya between the wall and the handrail before they move out of sight completely.

Midoriya waves back, eyes crinkling, and Eijirou- well he doesn’t not trip on the next step or again when he can hear Midoriya’s echoing laughter underneath his call for concern.

“You’re getting real fucking comfortable tonight,” Bakugou mutters, opening one of the hallway doors and standing in the doorway before entering.

“What do you mean?”

He walks past him, looking around the empty bedroom in idle curiosity and missing the click of the door closing. He wonders what Bakugou wants to talk about that’s so important, especially since it means leaving Midoriya alone. It’ll take only a few minutes for people to start swarming him without Bakugou acting like a guard dog.

“I mean you constantly eye-fucking Deku like you’ll die if you don’t.”

Eijirou jerks to a stop, heart beating out of his chest. What? He spins around on his feet so fast he stumbles back a bit.

“What?! Dude, I-”

“Have been trying to get into Deku’s pants for years, I know.”

Bakugou stands in front of the door like a statue, arms crossed over his chest and fists clenched, tucked tight against his body. Despite his tense stance, his face is completely blank as he stares Eijirou down.

Oh shit. Oh shit!

“Uh, I mean, no?” he tries with an awkward laugh. He swallows roughly, mouth dry and words shaky. “Don’t get me wrong, Midoriya’s a good looking guy and all that, especially his-! I mean-!”

“So, it’s Midoriya now?” He takes a step forward, arms uncrossing and fists resting by his thighs. “Thought it was Izuku now because it ‘felt right’ to you.”

Eijirou stumbles a step back, and then stops himself, a little shocked at his own reaction.

He’s never been in a physical fight with Bakugou before, but Eijirou has seen enough of them to know when Bakugou’s raring for one and by god is every bone in Eijirou’s body telling him to run like his life depends on it because it feels like Bakugou is about to start spitting fire.

“Not so brave without Deku as your shield, huh,” he says, taking another step forward. Bakugou’s always been taller than him by a few inches since high school, but the distance has always felt inconsequential.

Until now, that is. He forgets, sometimes, that to the larger population Bakugou comes off as intimidating and scary, that Eijirou has become desensitized to him only by virtue of being friends for so long.

“Uh-”

“So fucking caught up in your pervy fantasies you seem to forget that he’s not yours.”

“I don’t-!”

“Fantasize about him? Pick him apart with your eyes and pretend you’re not when he looks your way? You’re gonna start coming onto him next time I’m not around?”

And that snaps Eijirou’s tongue back into place because he had never once thought that and never would.

“Dude, no! No, never, and I didn’t mean to creep on him or seem like I was, seriously. I’d never do that to him or to you and your guys’ relationship. I am so, so sorry,” he starts rambling. The room feels stuffy, sweat trickling down his back the longer he talks without a response from Bakugou. “Man, I thought I was better about hiding it- I mean, he’s your boyfriend, you know what he looks like so I-! That’s not what I mean! It’s just- I know it’s been years but- Look, I’m sorry, bro-”

Bakugou rolls his eyes at him like Eijirou is not about to combust on the spot.

“Jesus, can you chill out?” he cuts in, almost yelling to be heard over Eijirou’s increasingly panicked word vomit.

Huh?

“Huh?”

He is so confused. And he also feels like he’s going to have a heart attack.

“Everybody wants to fuck Deku, you’re not special,” he says nonchalantly, stepping back and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Well, you might be. Depends on Deku.”

Eijirou needs to sit down.

“Bakugou, dude, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he wheezes out, despite what he said being an objective truth.

Even Kaminari, who for as long as Eijirou had known him only bottomed, had wanted to fuck Midoriya within a few minutes of talking with him.

“We were roommates for two years, asshole,” Bakugou says, glaring at him. “I knew how much you were jerking it to Deku. Man the fuck up and stop fucking around.”

“Oh my god.” Eijirou’s lungs deflate like slow, sad balloons. “You-?!”

“Heard every time you thought you were slick and had your hands down your pants coming with my boyfriend’s name on your tongue? Yeah, dickwad. Didn’t even have the fucking decency to do it by yourself like a normal person. Just woke up and started fucking Deku in your head like you’d ever have the chance.”

There’s a tick in his jaw and a sneer to his lips. Oh, he looks pissed. Rightfully pissed, not the slightly angry mood he was in before. Oh, Eijirou fucked up.

“But you never said anything about it! Oh my god!”

“Because you never did anything about it. Don’t think for one second that if you had actually tried to make a move on him I wouldn’t have knocked your jaw off your fucking skull. You’re lucky as is that Deku convinced me to not break your spine for having his name in your mouth.”

Midoriya knows?!

“He knows?!”

He’s not sure if the room is swimming or if it’s just the blood draining out of his body to leave nothing but a bag of bones behind.

Bakugou snorts. “Of course, he does. He’s got a thick skull but he’s not oblivious. Why do you think he asks me to come with him to every party? Assholes that don’t know when to back off think they have a chance every second he’s not yanking on me like a goddamn dog.”

He knew Bakugou was whipped, but this goes beyond that. He did think Midoriya was a little oblivious to the attention that follows him, but instead he’s aware enough to bring Bakugou around to ward off that attention.

Which. Huh. Seems like he’s showing off Bakugou as well.

He doesn’t get a chance to say anything about this new information before it feels like he’s getting hit in the head with a brick from the next sentence.

“And do you honestly think I wouldn’t tell him his precious friend from high school was having wet dreams about him almost every fucking night? Wouldn’t let him know how pathetic all his friends are, fucking into their hands and pretending it’s him while I have him whining on my cock?” Bakugou’s lips curl in a mean smile, head tilting up a little as he looks down his nose at him.

Eijirou swallows, rough and dry, at the imagery. Jesus, that’s…

Bakugou doesn’t brag or talk about his sex life. Ever. He’s extremely private. Midoriya’s much the same, as far as Eijirou knows.

So, hearing him casually talk about Midoriya like that is… it’s a lot.

“Yeah,” Bakugou says like he could read Eijirou’s thoughts, smile widening enough for him to the see the tips of his canines. “Pervy little shitnerd gets off knowing everyone wants him but only I can touch him. I’ll fuck him in front of a crowd one of these days, but I’m not here tonight for that.”

“I thought you came because Midoriya wanted you to,” he manages, head spinning.

He puts both hands on his head to get more air. Is he panicking? Is it adrenaline? Excitement? Maybe his drink was spiked. Whatever it is, Bakugou doesn’t care one bit and leaves him to work it out on his own.

“Sure, but I’m feeling generous,” Bakugou says, fishing his phone out of his pocket and turning away. “So here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to call Deku and ask how he’s feeling about it. You’re going to stand there quietly while we decide whether or not to kick you out.”

“Feel about it? Kick me out?”

Bakugou turns his head, red eyes piercing. “Me fucking him with you in the room.”

Eijirou’s mouth drops open, watching blankly as Bakugou opens his phone and brings it to his ear.

He vaguely hears a, “Hey, baby,” but everything is muffled under the beating drum of his pulse.

He’s caught on that sentence like he’s gained hearing for the first time, playing it over and over and over again in his head.

Bakugou’s going to fuck Midoriya while Eijirou is in the room?

Midoriya, getting dick. While Eijirou is watching? Allowed to watch?

He pinches himself on the forearm, winces. Yeah, this isn’t some weird prelude to a dream.

The door opening with a click bumps him out of his thoughts and Midoriya walks in, offering Eijirou a shy smile before turning immediately into Bakugou’s arms and kissing his jaw.

“Hi, Kacchan. He said he’s okay with it?”

Holy fuck.

Bakugou closes the door behind him, flipping the lock.

“He hasn’t left yet,” he says, a heavy hand slipping behind Midoriya’s head and resting on his neck. “Figured he’d have pussied out already.”

Holy fuck.

“Don’t be mean,” Midoriya says between kisses, turning to look at Eijirou. “Are you really okay with this?”

He jerks a bit, pointing at himself. “Me? Am I okay with this?”

“Yeah. If you don’t want to do this, that’s completely understandable.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, already tugging at Midoriya’s neck to get his attention again.

“Uh, no, I want to- I want to be here. Do this. Be- yeah. I’m good.”

He didn’t decide it until he said that, but that’s okay. He gives him a thumbs up, and then immediately drops his hand. That was lame.

Midoriya laughs, shoulders relaxing and Eijirou perks up, tunneling in on his dimpled cheek.

Seeing Midoriya relax because of him is a like a shot of cocaine straight to the heart. Very happy fun good times but please send help because his heart is beating at abnormal rates.

He’s decided: he can be a little lame for Midoriya if that’s what happens every time.

Bakugou’s patience runs out and he grabs Midoriya’s jaw, tugging him back around and leaning down. Eijirou catches only bits and pieces of what he says.

“If at any moment…No questions. Understand? …call it off.”

Midoriya nods, a little patronizingly, so Bakugou squeezes his fingers, yanks him in until their foreheads almost bash together.

“Do you understand?” he enunciates clearly, loud enough for Eijirou to hear.

“Yes, Kacchan,” Midoriya breathes.

“Repeat it.”

“If at any moment I don’t like what we’re doing anymore, we’ll call it off and check in.”

Bakugou loosens his grip, thumb petting the side of his cheek. “Good.”

“The same goes for you, Kacchan.” His hand comes up, wraps around Bakugou’s wrist. “Tell me, too, okay?”

He raises an eyebrow but leans in and kisses Midoriya, squishing his cheek to push out his lips. “I know.”

Bakugou pulls back and meets his eyes over Midoriya’s shoulder. He jolts at the intensity of his gaze, the reflexive guilt for being caught staring at Midoriya showing up in full force still. He doesn’t look away from Bakugou, but only barely.

They narrow, and then Bakugou turns Midoriya around, a hand still holding his jaw.

“Tell it to Kirishima, baby. Make sure he hears it.”

Midoriya blushes, fidgets in place, but he opens his mouth.

“If I say stop, you need to back off and give me space.” Despite his fingers twisting and tangling together or his tapping foot, Midoriya says it confidently, makes eye contact. “I have a safe word, too. Um, it’s brick. Just in case.”

Safe word? Midoriya likes that kind of play?

Eijirou needs to get more laundry detergent.

“Brick,” Eijirou repeats, just to be sure, but it comes out cracked and high-pitched. Bakugou laughs, sneering a little. He clears his throat, fighting down his embarrassment for the nth time tonight.

Midoriya only nods, offering a small, excited smile and Eijirou grins back, ignores how his dick twitches.

Bakugou’s hand trails down to cup Midoriya’s neck briefly. He kisses the side of Midoriya’s head, murmurs something Eijirou probably isn’t supposed to hear.

“Good boy, Izuku,” he says, the words charged with deep, deep affection. Midoriya practically melts, and beneath the big sweatshirt, Eijirou can just see the slightest of bulges.

Bakugou’s hand slips away, smoothing down his front and Midoriya shivers, finally averting his eyes.

Eijirou's balls his hands into fists, eyes glued to all the new faces Midoriya is making. He feels bewitched, watching Midoriya's every move with an intensity he doesn't normally allow himself.

“Keep my sweatshirt on,” Bakugou tells Midoriya. His hand slips under, lifts it up enough for Eijirou to see a dark green trail of hair on a tensed, defined stomach. His fingers spread wide over his lower abdomen, pinky slipping beneath the band of his boxers. “Take everything else off.”

Midoriya nods eagerly. “Of course, Kacchan.”

“Good.”

Midoriya shivers at the word, and- oh.

Midoriya likes being good. Being praised.

Eijirou has no shortage of praise for him.

“You,” Bakugou says, looking at Eijirou. “Lay the fuck down and keep your hands to yourself.”

Lay down?

“What?”

A hand to his chest shoves him back, forcing him to sit on the bed. He falls with a yelp as his hands scramble for purchase beneath him.

“You either lay down, right now,” Bakugou repeats, the arm that pushed him retreating to tug Midoriya closer, “or you fuck off and miss your chance forever.”

Eijirou freezes in the middle of boosting himself up, awkwardly hovering over the bed for half a second.

He meets Midoriya’s eyes, a luminous green in the dim lighting, and that’s all it takes for him to hit the mattress. He scoots back until he’s completely on the bed and at Bakugou’s look, lays back on the pillows gingerly, cringing when the tent in his shorts becomes painfully obvious.

But when Midoriya’s eyes dart down towards it, his breath hitches a little, eyebrows raising in realization.

“Oh,” he all but whispers. “Eijirou, you really…?”

He cringes again, looking back up at the ceiling to avoid his searching eyes. He can’t look away for long though, especially not when he hears their clothes rustling.

“You touch him or me once and this ends, got it? If I feel even the tip of your fucking pinky or the edge of your shorts, we’re gone.”

While Bakugou speaks, he slips both hands under Midoriya’s waistband, pushing down his gym shorts and briefs until they hit the floor. He holds his arms out while Midoriya toes his socks off, offering him support.

The sweatshirt is long, at most down to mid-thigh, but that’s at least half a thigh Eijirou has never seen before.

They’re on the paler side, freckles scattered, and big. Thick, corded muscles flex while he moves, and Eijirou chokes on his spit when for a split second Midoriya lowers to put his crocs to the side with his socks stuffed inside.

Eijirou has always teased Midoriya about having hams for thighs, and he was right because seeing his legs out and bare while squatting on the floor with only the front of the sweatshirt covering his dick makes his mouth water.

One of his most recurring fantasies is him fucking Midoriya’s thighs, spreading his cum all over them and using it as lube to fuck him. Every time Midoriya shows up in shorts is a day in hell for him.

It takes more effort than he’d like to admit to stop himself from sliding out the side of the bed and doing just that.

He barely remembers to nod at Bakugou in understanding, and almost immediately fucks up by jerking back when Midoriya crawls over him in only his sweatshirt.

“Oh, fuck,” he wheezes out. He stuffs his hands under his back, eyes darting between Midoriya’s face, the gape in the neck of his sweatshirt revealing hard nipples and no shirt, and his hanging cock, flushed tip peeking past the loose fabric. “Oh my god.”

“Hi,” Midoriya says, all cute and soft like he’s not kneeling over Eijirou ass up and close enough for him to smell rosemary and melted butter from his time at the bakery.

Midoriya is so hot it’s not even fair.

“Hi,” Eijirou manages. He wants to kiss him so bad.

He moves further up until his face hovers over Eijirou’s chest, hips directly parallel to his. There is a foot of space between them at most.

“This okay?” Midoriya asks, worrying his lip between his teeth. He’s steadily getting more and more red the longer Eijirou stares up at him in slack jawed awe.

He almost replies no, because of the space between them that he wants closed, but he’ll take what he can get. This is already better than any wet dream he’s ever had, though he doesn’t think he should say that.

He gives the second lamest thumbs up he’s ever given instead while he tries to steady his breathing, being careful to make sure he doesn’t touch the hanging sweatshirt.

Midoriya giggles, a little nervous, and Eijirou’s dick twitches again.

Oh, he’s so screwed.

“Rules apply to you, too, Shitty Hair,” Bakugou says, reminding Eijirou that this is not a dream because Bakugou is here too and taking all of Midoriya’s attention. “Hands to yourself. I ain’t doing this to get you off so if I see even an inch of your dick, I’ll break your hand. You can jack into a sock alone later.”

Eijirou winces, hips already shifting uncomfortably. That’s harsh, and also going to be difficult. The only thing running through his mind is getting his hands on Midoriya’s thighs, squeezing and kneading them between his fingers. His mouth too, leave marks on the inside, find where he’s sensitive.

He opens his mouth to protest, but when Bakugou raises an eyebrow from the side of the bed and places his hands on Midoriya’s arms like he’s about to draw him back, he quickly shuts it.

“If you don’t fucking like it, the door is over there.”

It’s not even a choice.

Eijirou gets comfortable on the pillows, feet twitching nervously. Midoriya settles into position above him, the bed dipping under their combined weight.

His throat bobs as he looks between them at slightly bruised knees framed by thick muscle spreading wide around Eijirou’s waist, careful not to kneel on his shorts.

He’s flexible. Very flexible.

Midoriya leans down on his hands right above Eijirou’s shoulders. His sleeved forearms are right by Eijirou’s mouth if he turned his head to either side, but not close enough to touch.

Eijirou is completely surrounded by him. Wow.

He’s enamored with their proximity, getting to see freckles he’s never seen before. He’s got the slightest of wrinkles near the corner of his eyes from how often he smiles, a smaller, almost hidden dimple on his other cheek. His headband is still holding his hair back, but it’s long enough that the few strands loose are almost touching Eijirou’s face.

“You’re very…” he trails off, clawing at the bed underneath him so he doesn’t reach out and place his hands behind Midoriya’s knees to spread him further apart and pull him higher up, to set him over Eijirou’s face and eat him out like he’s starving to do.

He bites back a sound. Fuck, he really wants to eat him out.

“I’m very what?”

He makes another sound, audible this time. He doesn’t know if laying on his hands will be enough to stop himself.

Midoriya giggles at him, but he turns his head away. Bakugou is trailing his hand down Midoriya’s back, landing on his ass.

He sighs, content and satisfied, and Eijirou has never been more jealous or hated another man so strongly, especially when Midoriya shivers, fingers squeezing the bedding beside Eijirou’s head before relaxing.

Bakugou may be one of his closest friends, but Eijirou would be willing to kill a man and give his left lung and both kidneys to touch Midoriya’s ass.

“Ready, baby?”

Midoriya hums, hips wiggling a bit. Bakugou lines up behind Midoriya, and after realizing what’s happening, Eijirou panics a little.

“Wait, wait, dude! You can’t just- just shove in! You need to prep him!” He almost reaches up to pull Midoriya closer, but Midoriya makes an embarrassed sound, turning his face into his shoulder.

Bakugou barks a laugh and pushes in despite his protests. He moves slow, Midoriya swaying forward before settling back hip to ass.

“You really think Deku would come to a party like this not prepared?” he says over Midoriya’s low groan.

He can’t see Bakugou completely with Midoriya above him, but he sees a hand lift to the side seconds before something drops next to his head.

He turns to look at it and-

It’s a plug. And not a small one, either.

“But you were working… oh.”

His fists clench at the realization. His knuckles dig into his spine, the slight discomfort barely noticeable under the rush of blood in his ears.

“So impatient, aren’t you, Deku,” Bakugou says, gathering up the loose fabric into his fist and using it pull Midoriya back on his cock. He sets his hand on the small of his back, keeps it taut, and starts to bounce him forward and back. “Always needing cock in you, so hungry for it.”

“Kacchan,” Midoriya hums.

Eijirou pushes his head back into the mattress at the breathy sound, legs shifting restlessly. He doesn’t have much room to move with Midoriya bracketing his hips and thighs, and Bakugou on a single knee not far behind him with his other foot planted on the bed for leverage.

They barely started and already Eijirou is struggling.

“Got one in you already, think you need another? One not good enough for you?”

Bakugou’s talking like Eijirou isn’t even there.

“No,” Izuku gasps, head tipping down. It blocks his expression, and Eijirou bites his lip so he doesn’t complain. He doesn’t know what he’s allowed here, and he doesn’t want to push it. Not yet at least.

“No? Not enough?” Bakugou growls.

Midoriya yelps at the next thrust, fingers curling next to Eijirou’s head.

“Kacchan,” he moans, head rolling to the side. “It is, it is, it’s so good, Kacchan, so good.”

It’s cute, his mumbles that are usually so coherent turning into an endless litany of single phrases and words, mind unable to come up with anything beyond the pleasure he’s feeling. His tongue rests on his lower lip while he mumbles, pink tip peeking out. Eijirou wants to suck on it.

“Well ain’t you lucky, huh, baby, got another cock right there anyway. Waiting just for you. But you’re not gonna touch it, are you?”

Midoriya whimpers, hips twitching. Bakugou puts his free hand on his waist, slides it down to tuck in the divot between his hips and thighs to hold him in place.

“Kacchan,” he pants, words cut off by the next thrust, harsher than the last.

“Are you?” he repeats.

“No,” Midoriya gasps.

“Good.”

Midoriya whimpers again, back arching to meet Bakugou’s movements as much as he can without touching on Eijirou.

“I know you want to but he can’t fucking have you, can he?” Bakugou asks. He bends over to kiss Midoriya’s back, and Eijirou can only see the tips of blond hair while he moves.

Midoriya shakes his head, headband slipping down his head a little. His eyes are closed, brows furrowed in pleasure, just the slightest bit of spit pooling on his lower lip.

“Why, Deku?”

He doesn’t get an immediate answer so Bakugou pushes in with more force, hips clapping against Midoriya’s.

Midoriya’s mouth falls open on a whine and Eijirou jostles with the bed. His hands are cramping, feet shifting restlessly on the bed.

“Shit,” Eijirou hisses, hips twitching up. If Midoriya moved down just a few inches, he’d be able to press their cocks together, add to the slowly growing wet spot on his shorts with Midoriya’s leaking head. “Shit, Izuku.”

Midoriya jerks at his name, eyes opening like he forgot Eijirou was there.

He can’t touch, he can’t fucking touch, he has to remember he can’t touch, but fuck- he’s so hard, harder at the dazed look in Midoriya’s eyes.

“Answer me,” Bakugou demands.

“Yours, only want yours, Kacchan,” he moans, all while keeping eye contact with Eijirou. “Yours, just yours, I’m yours.”

Bakugou sighs, a deeply satisfied sound, and the more Midoriya mumbles his name over and over again, the faster he moves.

“That’s right, baby. Just mine.”

And then he slams in so hard Midoriya’s arms buckle.

“Kacchan!”

He does it again and again, yanking Midoriya back into him so hard the neckline of the sweatshirt digs into his neck.

Midoriya doesn’t mind – if he even notices. He grits his teeth, muffles his sounds behind his tongue.

Eijirou’s is frozen in his mouth, caught between wanting to encourage Midoriya to open his mouth so he can hear everything and keep his own groans silent.

Despite his efforts, Midoriya is still calling for Bakugou on every other word, pushing back against him with equal force.

“Oh?” Bakugou asks when he notices. He huffs out a laugh, the sweatshirt suddenly hanging loose again. “Don’t wanna embarrass yourself but can’t help but moan for me? Let me help you with that, baby.”

He covers Midoriya’s mouth with both palms, fingers linking and muffling him, then thrusts into him so hard Midoriya screams. Even behind both layers of his hands, he’s loud, and the back of Eijirou’s neck tingles, a shiver running down his spine.

Bakugou uses his grip on Midoriya’s face to pull him up and arch his back, pressing his torso closer to Eijirou’s heaving chest but pulling his face away.

His bared neck is slightly tanned and freckled, purple where Bakugou’s mouth had been and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, jutting out just enough for Eijirou’s teeth to ache.

Midoriya’s hands flail as he’s pulled back, looking for support. Eijirou holds his breath the closer they get to him, rolling his shoulders back into the bed and waiting for first contact. He can’t touch, but maybe Midoriya can.

And if he can, then Eijirou can hold him up, take his weight. Midoriya is so small compared to him it’d barely feel like anything.

Bakugou releases one hand to grab Midoriya’s, linking them together and drawing them away from Eijirou before they can get any closer.

He groans in frustration, biting his tongue.

“Hands to yourself, Deku,” Bakugou rumbles, and draws Midoriya’s arm away, pressing his wrist to the small of his back. He grabs his other arm and pulls it back as well, holding both wrists in a single palm. His free hand slides around to the front and Eijirou watches on bated breath as the sweatshirt lifts, revealing Midoriya’s hard, bobbing cock and nipples.

They’re hard, pink, and bounce a little. He needs to bite him, needs to sink his teeth into the muscle of his chest and leave permanent marks, suck on them just to see if Midoriya would make a sound, see if he’s sensitive.

Bakugou hooks the sweatshirt behind Midoriya’s head, forcing his head to bow and giving him a handhold to keep Midoriya off of Eijirou.

With his grip on Midoriya’s wrists and the bunched-up fabric at his neck, Midoriya can’t move on his own anymore.

He hangs above Eijirou by virtue of Bakugou’s strength alone, knees digging into the bed and the faintest tremble running through his thighs.

“Kacchan,” Midoriya pants, mouth hanging open.

He’s so close. He’s so fucking close, drool dripping into Eijirou’s mouth, sweat landing on his forehead, eyes clenched shut. Every humid breath wrenched out of him Eijirou sucks in like he’s dying, the closest he’ll get to tasting Midoriya.

He’s right there.

Right. There.

It’d be so easy to lean up real quick, Bakugou too focused to see, and press his mouth to Midoriya’s, introduce him to Eijirou's teeth and his tongue, to swallow his sweet moans, earn a few of his own.

He’s so caught in the haze of his own lust, thoughts drumming louder and louder and louder than everything that Midoriya suddenly jerking up and back shocks him.

He flinches back and his hands reflexively shoot up as if to pull Midoriya back down.

With a hand in Midoriya’s hair, Bakugou wrenches him away, arches his body and bares him to the room. Midoriya’s dick bobs, pre leaking down his balls and dripping onto Eijirou’s clothed, aching cock.

“You fucking thought,” Bakugou laughs, voice mean and breath heavy, right before he twists Midoriya’s head to the side and claims his mouth for himself. Midoriya’s eyes widen when Bakugou’s tongue slip inside, a thin ring of green rolling back before lids fall close.

Bakugou keeps eye contact with Eijirou the entire time he kisses Midoriya. Hands gripping his body, mouth covering his, hips still meeting Midoriya’s ass and clapping loudly, he lays his claim.

Eijirou burns to sit up and place his hands on Midoriya’s hips, to yank him down onto his own lap and make him moan. He grits his teeth, jaw aching as much as his fingers are where they’re dug into the bedding.

The hand gripping Midoriya’s hair loosens the longer Midoriya kisses back, pushing into Bakugou’s mouth. It slips down to wrap almost lovingly around the base of Midoriya’s throat, thumb brushing slow in contrast to the constant punishing pace of his hips.

“Izuku,” he murmurs into his mouth. Midoriya’s tongue comes out, licks his lips while he’s talking. Eijirou groans behind his teeth at the sight, whole body shivering. “What do you need, baby?”

“You, Kacchan,” he whines out almost immediately, curling forward from the pleasure as much as he can with Bakugou’s hands on his throat and holding his wrists. “Need you, you, please, Kacchan, just you, always you.”

He rambles out his name over and over and over again, oblivious to the sudden pain in Eijirou’s chest.

His bites at Bakugou’s jaw to get his attention, at his lips and his throat, kissing every inch of skin he can with a wet, adoring tongue and leaving bright red marks behind.

Bakugou sends one more smirk his way before turning back to Midoriya.

“Yeah?”

He stays out of reach despite the tugging on his hair trying to pull him closer. Even though he’s strong enough to force Bakugou’s head down, Midoriya doesn’t. He knows better.

“Yes, yes, Kacchan, kiss, please? Just one, Kacchan, I just need one.”

Bakugou groans, airy and a little awed. “I’ll give you more than one, Deku.”

He finally leans back in, and the wet moan that leaves Midoriya’s throat at the intense, devouring kiss makes Eijirou’s hips jerk off the bed, almost high enough to rut into Midoriya’s ass.

He strangles a moan in his throat, swallowing back a mouthful of saliva.

Bakugou’s pace doesn’t change even as he focuses solely on Midoriya. His hands, his mouth, his words, everything is used to pull Midoriya to pieces.

“Just like that,” Bakugou praises. He squeezes him tight, close, shifts his hips to a new angle with a fierce look of concentration.

It pays off because for a long second, Midoriya’s entire body tenses up and freezes, voice trapped in his throat.

“Good, that’s it, Izuku,” Bakugou says into Midoriya’s bared throat. He bites down on his shoulder, sucks on the mark left behind as he amps up the pace of his hips. “Come on, baby, that’s it.”

Midoriya jerks with a cracking moan, cum spilling out and shooting over Eijirou’s shirt. He moans with him, hips rutting up at the sight, eyes glued to Midoriya’s face as realizes that he cries when he comes.

There's an endless stream of tears trailing down flushed cheeks, dripping off Midoriya's chin and onto his bared torso. His nose scrunches and eyes crinkle as he tilts his head back onto Bakugou's shoulder, the cut of his jaw covered in blooming red marks.

He’s the prettiest Eijirou has ever seen him.

“Fuck,” he hisses out, hidden underneath Bakugou’s echoing noise.

“Deku,” Bakugou groans in a low, long drawl, dropping a kiss onto Midoriya’s shoulder.

Bakugou doesn’t stop despite Midoriya coming. He fucks him harder, chasing an endless goal.

Midoriya’s cock twitches with each push in, cum spilling out until he’s jerking in Bakugou’s hands, chest rising and falling rapidly.

Pushing back or pulling away, it doesn’t matter which direction he goes because Bakugou doesn’t let up or let go.

He's crying in earnest, doesn’t get a break to stop or to breathe, his cock still half-hard and choking on little hiccupping sobs that go straight to Eijirou’s dick.

He thinks he could come just from watching Midoriya get fucked into a sticky, overstimulated mess. His own breaths are a quick staccato to match Midoriya’s while he kneels just out of reach.

Eijirou balls his hands into fists, pushing against the mattress like he’s going to get up. He doesn’t, unwilling to have everything stop now, but the large movement doesn’t go unnoticed.

Over Midoriya’s shoulder, Bakugou laughs, his next thrust rougher.

“Go on,” Bakugou calls to him like he's giving permission. He has a hand firmly on the back of Midoriya’s neck, gripping until the skin around his fingers turn white and bloodless. “Distract him.”

Then he shoves Midoriya down, one hand still wrapped around both of his wrists and keeping them on the small of his back.

Eijirou’s hands fly up without thought, catching Midoriya by his shoulder and chest to keep him from crashing nose-first into his chest.

He’s burning to the touch, chest flushed and heaving. Eijirou is immediately pressing his hands deeper, shuddering at the shared heat, at the sweaty and smooth skin he greedily slides his hands over. He tugs him closer but Bakugou refuses to let Midoriya move another inch.

He thought he was close before, but Eijirou’s got a view like no other now. Midoriya’s lashes are long, curl up at the very tips. There’s water caught between them, drops like little jewels hanging onto the tips, more smeared underneath, coating his cheeks.

They’re barely centimeters apart and Eijirou waits on bated breath for Midoriya to look at him.

“Izuku,” he says, hushed and rough.

Midoriya’s eyes open slow and sticky. They glisten with more pooling tears, red at the corners and pupils dilated.

Each time he’s jerked forward then back, barely held in place by Eijirou’s hands, his eyes roll before focusing again. He doesn’t blink, can’t, holds eye contact like he was trained to do so, like it’s the only place he can look.

“Eijirou…” he whines on a small hiccup. There’s nothing but the warm, humid air of a hot summer night in his voice, saturated in wet heat and dripping with desire.

Eijirou is leaning up as soon as he hears his name, holding his head firmly in place from Bakugou’s thrusting.

He tastes like mint, dulled and a little sweet. Whatever chapstick he walked in with is nearly gone after Bakugou’s mouth and now Eijirou’s.

He licks the rest of it away.

Midoriya gasps into his mouth, and on the next jerk forward, Eijirou is tugging him down further, hands nearly encompassing both sides of Midoriya’s head as he pulls him closer.

Hot, his mouth is hot, lips softer and fuller than Eijirou’s. They’re bitten raw and messy, slick spit smeared everywhere. He slides his tongue in, moaning at the taste and feel.

His feet plant on the bed as he fights to keep his hips still.

He can’t imagine how good it’d feel to fuck his mouth, wet and warm as it is now, see if Midoriya could take him all the way or if he’d choke, gag on his cock with an apology before he tries again.

Fuck.

He presses hard enough he cuts his own lip on his teeth.

Midoriya’s tongue meets his tentatively, but when he feels Eijirou’s teeth, his entire body shivers and he finally goes limp. Held up between them, he takes everything Bakugou is giving him and doesn’t shy away from Eijirou’s increasingly messy kisses.

“You’re so pretty, Izuku,” he rushes out between them, finally giving in and letting his mouth run. He presses his mouth everywhere he can reach, inevitably ending back up at his mouth. “So good like this. You take cock so well.”

He’d take Eijirou’s cock so well, eager and ready for it.

Midoriya whines into the next kiss, chest hitching with a sob. Eijirou presses closer, thrusts his tongue into his mouth only slightly off-beat from Bakugou’s rhythm.

If his mouth and tongue are the closest he’ll get to fucking Midoriya, he’ll take it.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he tries, heady with the reaction Midoriya gives him, eyes rolling back at the pet name. “You can come again, yeah? I know you can.”

He wants to see it again, needs to see it, needs to know what Midoriya looks like when he’s pushed too far over the edge. He bets he could come more if he’s already done it on Bakugou’s cock with no extra stimulation, bets he could wring out a couple more before he passes out.

Air hisses out between his teeth, unable to take his eyes off of Midoriya’s face and following every back-and-forth motion.

“Ei- Eij- ah, ah, Kacchan!”

Eijirou kisses him again, sucking at Midoriya’s bottom lip and biting carefully. He almost said his name again. He’s so close.

“C’mon,” he whispers. “You can do it.”

“I can’t,” he whines. “It’s too much, too good.”

Bakugou grunts and lets go of Midoriya’s wrists to wrap his arm around his waist, leaning over and pressing his chest to his back. He stuffs his face into the back of Midoriya’s neck, sounds muffled by the sweatshirt.

He releases Midoriya’s neck to press his hand into the bed and Midoriya’s hands fall with him.

They land on Eijirou’s chest, fisting at his shirt. Eijirou eagerly takes the chance to slip his own hand around the back of his neck, wiggling behind the tight pull of the sweatshirt.

His skin's burning hot, sweaty, and his fingers slip in the long strands of hair covering his neck.

He takes his other hand and cups Midoriya’s face, pushing back to thread his fingers through his hair. He knocks the headband off and keeps his hand there instead.

Midoriya whines when he tugs his hair, so Eijirou does it again, muffling the next one with his mouth.

He's moving too much to do more than press their open mouths together, sharing spit while he bounces from Bakugou's bruising force.

“Knew you’d cry,” Eijirou mumbles, thumbs smearing across Midoriya’s cheek. “Feel so good you just can’t help it.”

Midoriya makes a face, embarrassed, but Eijirou kisses it away, thumb slipping into the side of his mouth and pulling at his cheek.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he soothes, finally biting around Midoriya’s left dimple and replacing Bakugou’s mark with his own. “So pretty when you cry.”

Midoriya shivers, panting against Eijirou’s cheek.

“Hear that, Deku? Such a slut for cock even he can see it,” Bakugou teases.

“Not- I’m not-” he tries to protest.

“You are.” Bakugou bites it into his skin. “My slut. Always mine, Izuku.”

His rough voice vibrates through Midoriya, and Eijirou can see in his eyes the way the words settle like they came out of the mouth of a prophet.

“Pretty when you’re crying and coming on my cock, pretty when you’re under me, pretty every damn day,” Bakugou mumbles, almost to himself. “So good for me, baby. So good.”

“Kacchan,” Midoriya cries. “Please.”

Bakugou moves his hand to Midoriya’s cock, gripping it tight and nearly dwarfing it in his hand. He doesn’t stop fucking into Midoriya’s body, but he doesn’t move his hand either. He lets the force of his own thrusts help Midoriya fuck his fist.

“Fuck,” Eijirou hisses out when Midoriya can only let his mouth drop open wordlessly, licking at his cheek. “Gonna come again?”

Midoriya nods – or tries to.

He can barely move, and his hands pull at Eijirou’s shirt as he tries. He’s crying so much his tears drip onto Eijirou’s face, slipping into his hair.

“Deku,” Bakugou rumbles, fist squeezing his cock. “Give it to me.”

He pulls back, drawing Midoriya away from Eijirou’s grasp. He hand strips over Midoriya’s cock, the arm banded around his waist holding him still when he jerks violently, crying out.

“Kacchan!” Midoriya yells, the hands still fisted in Eijirou’s shirt pulling at the fabric hard enough some of the seams pop.

“I’ve got you,” he soothes, licking up fresh tears and shuddering. “Come on, give it to me, Deku.”

Midoriya comes again with a sudden, choked groan, swallowed by Bakugou’s mouth.

Eijirou is helpless when Midoriya’s cum spills over Bakugou’s fist and directly onto his covered cock, trapped uncomfortably in his shorts and twitching.

“Oh my god,” he groans, rutting into the air and unable to blink as he watches. “Shit, Izuku.”

“Fuck,” Bakugou hisses, still fisting Midoriya’s cock like it’s his own even when Midoriya lets go of Eijirou’s shirt to push at his wrist ineffectively and grab his hand.

“No,” he sobs, “Kacchan, please, please- ah!”

Bakugou shudders and pulls them back up all the way, ignoring his protests.

Even with Bakugou ducking down to keep his mouth on his skin, he shadows Midoriya's body completely. Wrapped around him like that, Bakugou can almost hide all of Midoriya’s torso from sight, big arms and bigger shoulders curling around him.

Eijirou can only watch, fingers twitching against his stomach and palms achingly empty, chest heaving as his orgasm spreads through him in waves.

“You can take it, baby,” Bakugou says, still jerking Midoriya off. His cum slides between their fingers, slicking the way.

“I- Ka-”

He can’t get a full sentence out, let alone a full word, and Eijirou watches enraptured as Midoriya continues to tremble, breath shuddering out of him. He looks like he’ll collapse at any second if not for the hold Bakugou has on him.

He lifts a trembling hand up to Bakugou’s hair and tilts his head back, whispering something in his ear. He follows it up with a kiss, breath hiccupping.

Bakugou slams to a stop, letting go of Midoriya’s cock to wrap both arms around his body, squeezing him tight as he groans long and loud. He sets his teeth into Midoriya’s shoulder and bites deep, ruts forward a few more times.

“Kacchan,” Midoriya calls, voice quiet and wrecked. He says his name like he doesn’t know what else to say.

They slowly come to a stop, their heavy breaths now the only sound in the room.

“Yeah,” Bakugou sighs. He holds Midoriya close for another minute before pulling back.

A deluge of cum follows, sliding down Midoriya’s thighs and landing in a puddle on the bedding.

Eijirou has to put his fist in his mouth, biting on his knuckles with closed eyes because damn that's a little too much for him right now, barely minutes after he's orgasmed.

Holy shit. That sight is going to be burned into his mind until the day he dies. Hello new core memory.

The weight on the bed shifts and he finally allows his arms and legs to spread out as Bakugou moves them away from Eijirou.

“Lower your head, baby,” he hears.

Bakugou holds Midoriya close, still back to chest, and he helps him remove the sweatshirt. He moves slow but steady. A large hand presses on green curls to guide Midoriya where he needs him while he pulls everything off. They move out of Eijirou’s line of sight, more murmured words lost to him as they settle somewhere to his right on the bed.

Eijirou stares at the ceiling, panting heavily.

Holy shit.

Despite him having done literally nothing the entire time, he feels wrung out, like he needs a long, hard sleep to recover from that. He's even sweating, for some reason.

“You okay, Izuku?” he catches Bakugou asking.

The party is still in full swing downstairs but its noise is muffled, leaving them a quiet room. It makes it easy to hear everything if he focuses hard enough.

Midoriya makes a sound, caught between a laugh and a sob, and Eijirou immediately turns to look, the new sound hooking into his chest. Whatever guilt he may have felt earlier is long gone.

He saw Midoriya come. That supersedes everything.

He rolls his head to the side, wincing at his sore, stiff neck. A small price to pay from leaning up and kissing Midoriya for so long.

They’re curled up together, Bakugou’s hands soothing over Midoriya’s bare back. He’s got small, purpling marks near his neck and shoulders, imprints of teeth by his shoulder blades, and larger red blemishes near his waist where Bakugou’s hands and arms were. His thighs lay limply over each other, excess lube glistening on his skin and cum leaking out of his ass.

Eijirou’s cock gives a weak but valiant twitch at the sight. Damn.

Midoriya is still crying, trying to smother his noises with the back of his hand.

"Izuku," Bakugou starts when Midoriya doesn't say anything.

“Yeah, I’m okay, more than, just- just gimme a second,” he manages, voice warbling. “Hold me, Kacchan?”

Eijirou’s hand twitches reflexively at the request before the words fully register and he realizes Midoriya’s not talking to him.

Bakugou doesn’t even bother with a response. He folds Midoriya into his chest, pressing his face against his neck for direct skin contact.

“I got you,” Bakugou says, pressing his mouth to the top of his head. He looks up as he adjusts, catching Eijirou’s silent gaze.

“Is he okay?” Eijirou mouths, not wanting to disturb Midoriya. Maybe he can get him some water or a towel. A massage, even.

He's been told he's good with his hands.

Bakugou makes a face, something between annoyed and pissed off but post-nut clarity is too strong for even him to be angry right now.

Eijirou knows he’s still living in the clouds, replaying every moment Midoriya was above him and whining into his mouth like he’s going to take a test on it. He can only imagine how Bakugou must be feeling.

He raises an eyebrow, but Bakugou ignores him.

Instead, he slides his arms around Midoriya and hauls him over his torso. Bakugou hides him completely, turning on his side and showing Eijirou his clothed back, wrapping around him until Eijirou can’t see even one of Midoriya’s fingers or a strand of hair.

“You did good, baby,” he hears Bakugou murmur. The rest of their conversation is unintelligible as he brings Midoriya back down.

Eijirou stares only for a second longer before turning his head back. He doesn’t push his luck, lets them have their moment of privacy.

Looks like his time is up.

He can’t even feel annoyed or sad about it – at least not yet.

When he goes home alone, it'll be a different story. But even that's a distant thought, unimportant when his shorts are still sticky with both his and Midoriya’s cum and a pleasant lethargy is sinking into his bones.

He held Midoriya’s face in his own hands today, kissed him breathless, had him holding onto him for dear life. He is going to have spank bank material until even the afterlife.

Literally the only step up from this would be if he could have fucked him. That’s the ultimate dream right there.

...

“So,” he starts. “When can I fuck Midoriya?”

He should have expected the pillow to the face.

At least he got Midoriya to laugh again, he thinks with a small smile.