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You Think We Need One More?

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Denki Kaminari’s day starts with a dick in his mouth. Whose dick? He’s not sure, at the moment. It’s hard and thick, tasting of gym mats and salt water taffy, and when he gives it a good, long suck there’s a strong — but gentle — hand threading through his lightning yellow hair in praise.

 

Kirishima.

 

It’s Eijiro Kirishima’s dick.

 

Nice.

 

This is how he likes to start the morning after dedicating an entire evening to video games, cheap pizza, and vigorous amounts of sex — like the kind that dudes in stoner movies try and obtain before they role credits. Kaminari can still feel the lingering thrusts like a hangover, and Kirishima hums in appreciation as if sharing in the same memory.

 

“You two horny assholes keep it down,” says the gruff, sleepy voice next to them. Katsuki Bakugou pulls the covers tight around his body and goes back to chasing after his dreams.

 

Kirishima rolls his eyes. They aren’t being that loud — they never are when they do this in the morning. “You perv, just admit you were listening and wanna join in.”

 

Kaminari makes a sound around the redhead’s penis, something along the lines of no dude, still recovering from last night. Sucking off Kirishima at 9 AM sharp is one thing, but having Bakugou inside of him after what they did last night? Naw, he needs a bit of a breather first, like the space between running a marathon and finally getting that much needed cup of water.

 

“Fine fine,” Kirishima says, because he’s got stamina for days on end thanks to early morning workouts and the sheer enticing image of Bakugou bending Kaminari over the edge of the bed last night, Kaminari’s pants bunched around his ankles and face contorted in a dopey, drooling haze of pleasure.

 

You know when you promise your friends that you’ll keep in touch after high school? Yeah, it’s kinda like that with these three, only they’ve actually kept their word throughout college and well into their twenties. Now they all live in a house together, splitting the mortgage three ways instead of living in their own spaces because why even bother? It’s cheaper to divide up living expenses this way and there’s 24/7 access to video games thanks to Kaminari’s discount at work.

 

And, of course, there’s the morning blow jobs: part of a balanced breakfast.

 

Speaking of, Kaminari’s got a rhythm going. He’s got Kirishima lying flat on his back now and he’s in-between his toned, powerful legs. Something about how willingly he spreads them for him is such a goddamn turn-on. The guy’s a personal trainer with all the strength of one of those muscled comic book heroes, yet here he is, squirming underneath Kaminari’s retail working ass like his mouth is the health replenishing save point he’s been looking for.

 

Kaminari reaches a hand down and starts to jerk himself off, because yeah, he’s the guy who gets off on his own sinful train of thought.

 

“Shit, babe, yeah just like that,” Kirishima breathes out. He spares a glance over to Bakugou, whose back is to the both of them, covers tight around his body. He smirks. The blond ain’t foolin’ anyone. “You know Kaminari’s multi-talented, he can jack you off while he takes care of me instead of you touching yourself.”

 

Kaminari makes another sound because Kirishima really needs to stop bulking up his sexual resume this early in the morning. It’s too late, though, cuz Bakugou’s turning so that he faces Kirishima, blanket tossed to the floor and body still gloriously naked from last night. Seriously, who wears clothing to bed anyway? “You talk too fucking much,” Bakugou says, but fuck, he’s fully erect and looking down at Kaminari like he’s got the solution to all his problems.

 

Ok. No biggie. He’s had these two cocks before he can do a repeat performance before eating an unhealthy amount of cereal. Just because he’s not completely awake doesn’t mean he can’t-

 

“I want that electric mouth of yours, Kaminari.”

 

Shit.

 

Brain short-circuiting.

 

Kirishima likes to talk dirty, too, call him babe and give him words of encouragement cuz like any good retail employee, praise is his bread and butter. But Bakugou talking dirty is on a whole new level, some unheard of, cosmic, measuring scale that makes Kaminari’s mind go blank.

 

“Dude!” Kirishima cries out when Kaminari releases his penis from the confines of his mouth, moving over to lap at Bakugou’s with his tongue. “Bakugou, that ain’t cool!”

 

“You told me to join,” he tries to look smug but feeling a hot, wet mouth around his cock is making it hard to remember to look like an asshole.

 

Kirishima grins a grin that’s similar to a shark’s toothy smile. He likes to see Bakugou rendered to this state, eyes fluttering shut and body rocking into Kaminari’s mouth. He’s not as built as Kirishima, no one really is — hashtag humble brag — but he’s nice and fit, Kirishima’s fingers tracing over the firm lines of his body.

 

Kaminari glances up to watch his two friends, best friends, best boyfriends, best whatever label works for the three of them. He sees them devouring each other’s mouths in a combination of morning breath and sleep-filled lust — save for Kirishima, he’s already been to the gym and back so he’s wide awake, working out a better adrenaline for him then coffee. The sight almost completely unravels Kaminari cuz he’s fully aware of having the two hottest dudes in town bared naked before him, like honestly, he’s not even sure how he wormed his way into this.

 

Kaminari’s the guy working at a mall video game store, living off food court menus or, if he’s feeling particularly brave, the vending machines in back that are stocked with sandwiches and microwavable pastas. His default mode is to deal with customers who range from knowing jack shit about video games to thinking that they gave birth to the PlayStation themselves. It’s a complete waste of his degree, but the paycheck’s nice and the crazy entertainment center and collectibles he has is even nicer.

 

So how he’s switching between successful fitness trainer cock and top fashion blogger cock — make fun of Bakugou if you want your face rearranged by his fist — is beyond comprehension, but here he is, sucking two cocks, touching himself and getting high off all the sounds because he’s into that, too, oh so into it.

 

“Fuck, Denki.”

 

“Shit, you feel so good, babe.”

 

Keep talking. Keep moaning keep wheezing keep-

 

HONK!

 

HONK HONK!

 

You’d think the blaring horn from outside would kill the mood, but no, it only makes Kaminari move faster. Bakugou’s dick over here. Kirishima’s dick over there. They’re both still into it, someone’s hand lovingly in Kaminari’s hair — Kirishima — while someone else impatiently thrusts into his mouth — Bakugou, definitely Bakugou, cuz he’s got all the patience of a raging bull when he’s nearing the edge.

 

“Should we start moving stuff in?”

 

“Ah, yes, thank you.”

 

A couple of things occur to the trio in that moment.

 

One: maybe they should’ve closed the window before their limbs got all tangled, because now there’s a chance that whoever’s outside will be able to hear them — not that Bakugou cares, fucking exhibitionist. The guy doesn’t even like dealing with people but when he does, oh boy, you’re in for an explosive show.

 

Two: the house next to theirs recently sold. It’s a real tragedy since the previous owner had been a quiet, elderly woman who minded her own business. The few times they saw her she would smile politely and say kind things — to Kirishima, especially, since he has this vendetta against shirts.

 

What? Older women know what’s up when it comes to perfect abs.

 

Three: whoever’s outside sounds pleasant, cute even. Maybe even around their age, maybe even attractive.

 

Wait, are they really about to cut their morning escapades short to see who the voice belongs to?

 

“Deku, you’ve got way too much stuff!”

 

There’s a laugh, then, “Come on, you said you’d help, Uraraka!”

 

That laugh is the sound birds make in the morning, those sweet little chirps that remind you that maybe there’s something beautiful left in this world — or some shit like that, cuz Kaminari and Bakugou usually sleep through it.

 

Kaminari can’t believe he’s doing this, but he looks up at the other two and gives them this look, this I kinda wanna check this guy out look. The other two should be wholeheartedly offended, but curiosity is a hell of an aphrodisiac, so in seconds they’re all out of bed, throwing on some semblance of pants before they walk over to the window, push the curtain open, and-

 

“Oh.”

 

“My.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

There’s a couple of people they can see from their bedroom window, which sits at the second story of their house. The house next door is small and quaint, perfect for one person — maybe two if you get creative. The group helping with boxes look like they belong in an afterschool special, scattered bits of nerdom represented by a short, cute girl with round cheeks, a guy who’s all height, glasses, and stiffness, and a potential rebel in their ranks because his hair is dyed red and white as if he couldn’t decide which color would piss his folks off more.

 

But then there’s.

 

There’s.

 

Him.

 

A guy who’s just a smidgen bit taller than the girl in the group, he’s got a disorganized mess of green curls that cling to his forehead from the sweat of carrying various boxes and pieces of furniture into the house. His face is a speckled mess of freckles, like someone got a little too carried away with spreading stars across the universe. The freckles trail down his arms and neck, dipping into the tank top he’s wearing and dancing across his legs. When he stretches the shirt lifts to reveal the kind of body that makes Kirishima lick his lips because wow, was he plucked straight from his gym fantasies or what?

 

“Please let that be Deku,” Kaminari says, never one to censor himself unless he’s on the clock being paid to not curse out dudes who use gay as an insult cuz someone beat them in some popular online shooter.

 

“Maybe we should go out there and find out.”

 

Both Kirishima and Kaminari stare at Bakugou. Who is this person right now? This anomaly who actually wants to go outside and make conversation. Kaminari pokes him in his arm and asks, “You feelin’ all right, man?”

 

“He suck your dick too good this morning, bro?” Kirishima adds.

 

“Fuck off!”

 

The outburst, of course, is loud enough to be heard by the group outside. All eyes are on the three of them now, equal parts stunned at the hostile language and caught off guard from the realization of having been watched by the neighbors.

 

“Ah... um... hello!” Kirishima plasters on an award winning smile, the one he uses to convince folks that he’s worth every penny they put into training. “Welcome to the neighborhood!”

 

The tall one with the glasses looks uncomfortable and the girl standing next to him has succumb to a fit of giggles. The one with the candy cane hair looks uninterested while the walking wet dream with the green hair- “Hi! I’m Izuku Midoriya! It’s nice to meet you!”

 

Well.

 

He sure is friendly.

 

“There’s no need to shout,” says Mister Crease Too Crisp In His Slacks. “You can all speak down here and have a normal conversation.”

 

“Oh lighten up, Tenya, these are Deku’s neighbors, leave them alone.”

 

Oh shit.

 

So the freckled face cutie is Deku?

 

All three boys wave to him because wow, hot damn, welcome to the neighborhood, Deku.

Chapter Text

Here’s a recap for the folks playing at home.

 

There’s an actual, real life, mythical creature moving in next door to the best damn polyamorous group of guys in town: Katsuki Bakugou, Eijiro Kirishima, and Denki Kaminari. They may be over-exaggerating with that best damn label, but they’re comfortable enough with each other to be supremely, overbearingly cocky about how great they are together.

 

Ha.

 

Cocky.

 

Cuz they’re three dudes.

 

Who have sex.

 

With their cocks.

 

Is that the sound of crickets chirping? Yeah, probably, but they mentally high-five each other because sometimes you gotta laugh like a preschooler at your own brand of humor.

 

Deep breath. Focus. Focus on the task at hand: the stunning new neighbor, that unearthly being who’s taken the name Izuku Midoriya. That description may feel a bit far-fetched, but all you have to do is look at him to know that he’s been ripped from the pages of a children’s book full of magic and wonder. How else do you explain a guy being able to pull off enough green to rival a forest spirit? Not that there’s anything wrong with the color green, per say, but hair and eyes and the shorts he’s wearing? It’s like he’s in a who wore it best competition against the grass.

Spoiler: Izuku’s winning. Hands. Down.

 

Of course his innocent demeanor is ruined by shapely legs and abs that Kirishima already wants to run his tongue over. After moving so much stuff the shorter man probably tastes of sweat and cardboard boxes, each one labeled with their proper location via black, permanent marker. Nothing turns Kirishima on more than a hard day’s work and those hot, throaty kisses before you step into that well-deserved shower. He’d let his tongue lap at the sweaty, hard lines of muscle like a sample plate — just enough to wet his appetite, but not enough to spoil the main course.

 

Bakugou’s a generous guy so he’s fine with his boyfriend claiming the abs so long as he gets to squeeze that round little ass — maybe kiss it, maybe lick it, maybe smack it a couple of times and let himself drink in the echoes of his hand reddening Izuku’s freckled skin. Izuku looks like someone who openly cries if he’s teased in just the right way, and Bakugou’s the asshole who’s into exploiting pleasurable weaknesses — Kirishima’s are his nipples, lightly tug at them with your teeth before he breathes out a firm request to bite harder . Meanwhile, Kaminari’s a sucker for those sloppy, wet kisses, more specifically, the messy moaning and lip smacking that leaves him feeling like he stuck his finger in an electrical socket.

 

Speaking of Kaminari...  he’s not sure where he wants to start with Izuku. He’s not a planner, not like his other two boyfriends. He’s a guy who plays everything by ear, making the necessary adjustments as he goes. You can wake him up by pressing a dick to his lips and he’ll get the hint and suck you off real good. Besides, Kaminari’s brain checked out the second their new neighbor smiled at them. He’s lucky he can remember his own name right now, even luckier that he remembered to throw on a faded Pikachu shirt with his boyfriend’s sweatpants before they rushed outside to meet Izuku.

 

Which boyfriend, you ask? He doesn’t have a clue.

 

Maybe the storybook analogy isn’t the direction to go in when thinking about Izuku Midoriya. Izuku’s more like... the protagonist in an adult fairytale, the porn store sales clerk putting Little Izuku Riding You in a brown paper bag so no one else can get an eyeful of your fetish.

 

“So... are you moving in alone?”

 

Thank goodness for Kirishima: instant charmer who’s capable of wording good. Wording well? Kaminari decides to stay standing behind his boyfriend so he can word on behalf of all of them. Bakugou’s standing next to him because he’s really not into peopling unless if it’s absolutely necessary, but standing around and undressing Izuku with his eyes? That, he can do.

 

A+.

 

Gold star.

 

“Ah, yeah, my friends are just helping me,” Izuku says as he nods over to the group with him. They’re still hard at work, lugging boxes inside the house as he gets acquainted with the neighbors. He’ll be sure to make good on his promise of food and beer — or, in Iida’s case, bottled water... unless if Uraraka smiles at him in that way of hers that gets him to agree to anything she says.

 

Friends. Kirishima nods at the word and lets it simmer in the back of his mind. Friends. Cool. No mention of anyone being his boyfriend or girlfriend. Cool. There’s a slim chance of Izuku not using the word boyfriend in favor of testing the waters before outing himself, but the guy with the red and white hair is too attractive to not proclaim as one’s boyfriend — potential bigotry be damned.

 

“Well I’m Eijiro Kirishima. This is Katsuki Bakugou and Denki Kaminari.”

 

“Hi! Oh, I guess I shouted my name while you all were looking out the window, huh? Well, here it is again: I’m Izuku Midoriya. Or Deku. Deku’s the nickname my friends gave me. Kinda silly, huh? I mean it fit when I was younger I guess... ah, where are my manners, you don’t wanna hear all that...”

 

How.

 

How does someone make rambling adorable?

 

Kaminari is in complete awe — for lack of a better word. He loathes rambling, has to deal with it at work so much that he’s contemplated wearing earplugs specially made for his most overly chatty customers. But for some reason Izuku’s mumbling comes off as cute, almost endearing. It helps that his voice is sweet like candy, the kind that sticks in your teeth but you don’t care because it’s so delicious.

 

“It’s fine,” Bakugou says, finally speaking up. It’s not much but the reassurance puts a smile on Izuku’s face.

 

Braver men than them have fallen victim to that smile.

 

“Yeah man!” Wonderful, Kaminari’s found his voice, but it’s a higher pitch than it should be. “We just, you know, wanted to say hi instead of screaming from the window.” Insert nervous chuckle.

 

Good job, Kaminari. You just executed the same move that one regular customer tries every time he comes in to reserve a game — a combination of awkward laughter and stilted sentences said to disguise the fact that he’s definitely trying to get your number. Your cute neighbor surely thinks you’re some kind of doofus.

 

“Right! Sorry about that! Just got excited, I guess!” Izuku giggles — fucking giggles — and ends the sentence with a large, heartwarming smile that Hallmark wishes they could capture in a greeting card.

 

Wow.

 

Their new neighbor is a goddamn angel, gifting everyone with precious smiles and undeserved apologies. How is he even real?

 

“Hey, no sweat,” Kirishima laughs. It’s a good, hearty sound, one fit for a kind-hearted, shirtless king, because Kirishima’s not wearing a shirt right now. Much to his delight, Izuku’s eyes are lingering on his chest. He waits to see if they’ll get that glazed over look that crosses the line of admiration and charts into I like what I see here territory.

 

Izuku bites his bottom lip and lets out a soft ah. Perfect. Bakugou smirks and even Kaminari, still a bit dazed from Izuku’s smile, grins an almost feral grin. Kirishima’s body always has been, and always will be, the perfect barometer of whether or not cute guys are into men.

 

“Midoriya, I believe we could use a bit of assistance.”

 

“A-ah, of course,” Izuku says to Iida as he approaches him. Iida looks like the stiff, studious guy who’s bummed out when a teacher doesn’t assign homework over the weekend. Still, he’s pretty easy on the eyes, with strong, thick calves that whisper about his track and field days. “This is Tenya Iida. Over there is Ochako Uraraka, and that’s Shoto Todoroki.” Izuku nods to each of his friends as he introduces them to his neighbors. Uraraka gives an excited wave while Todoroki nods to the group. “We all go to grad school together. U.A.”

 

The trio stares at Izuku as if he just grew a second head. “U.A.? Like... the U.A.?” Kirishima asks.

 

“That’s right,” Iida says, voice full of self-satisfaction. He’s definitely the guy with U.A. dishware and T-shirts lining his dresser drawers. Bakugou usually can’t stand guys like this, but damn, U.A.? Best school in the city? Always making those Top Ten Universities To Attend lists every year? Yeah, this glasses wearing dude should be proud. “In fact, Midoriya’s one of the best students in class. He’s got a full scholarship.”

 

“Iida...”

 

He’s blushing. Sound the alarms, he’s blushing. The smile’s already too much to deal with but those flustered, freckled cheeks and that shy, hesitant tone of voice?

 

Yeah. They’re gonna have to bone this dude.

 

“He’s right, Deku!” Uraraka bounces over to them, always ready to rock her status as Izuku Midoriya’s number one fan. She’s cute and energetic, made up of soft curves and a sunshine smile that makes Izuku’s face turn a brighter shade of red. “You’ve got the brains, the looks, you’re the whole package!”

 

Bakugou wonders if there’s something between Izuku and this girl, but there’s an almost sly smile on her face when she eyes him and his two boyfriends.

 

Is she... playing matchmaker?

 

“Oi, knock it off, Uraraku,” Izuku whines in a way that speaks of a years long friendship where he’s always trying to get the girl to pump the brakes when it comes to gushing about him. “We should get the rest of the stuff in.”

 

“Right!” Uraraka thrusts a fist into the air and gives one more big smile to the still dumbfounded trio before she runs over to Todoroki, who hasn’t bothered to join in the conversation, still focused on the task at hand. He’s too cool for school to be as cheerful as the others, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face whenever the topic of conversation revolves around Izuku.

 

“Well it was nice talking with the three of you.”

 

“Ah, right, you too,” Kirishima says, watching as Izuku goes to join with the rest of his group. This is the part where they’re supposed to return to their own house but no one makes a move, feet cemented to the sidewalk as they watch Izuku lift a box, Uraraka warning him that it’s not only heavy but nearly as big as he is. Iida immediately asks if he needs help but Izuku laughs it off, carrying the box like it’s as light as air.

 

“You know, if you’re gonna stand there gawking at him, you could help us move stuff in.”

 

Bakugou is the first to react, eye twitching at the young man standing in front of him. Who does this Half-and-Half bastard think he is? He clenches his fists and grits his teeth, trying to remember the talks he’s had with his boyfriends about the fiery temper he inherited from his mama. It wouldn’t look good to break Pretty Boy’s nose, not when he’s friends with Izuku, but man, oh man, does he wanna do a swift curse out, the likes that’d make Mrs. Mitsuki Bakugou proud. When she goes off it’s like a performance piece, a work of art, and Bakugou is this close to showing this prick his magnum opus.

 

“We’re not gawking.” Kaminari’s such a bad liar, voice cracking like he’s on trial with no hope of parole. “We’re just-”

 

“Gawking,” Todoroki repeats, speaking slower this time as if the three of them are too stupid to comprehend what he’s saying.

 

“So what if we are?” Bakugou takes a step forward. “You his boyfriend or something?”

 

Kirishima puts a hand on Bakugou’s shoulder and Kaminari breathes a sigh of relief. Kirishima’s always good at reigning the blond in. “Yeah, are you? Cuz if so then your boyfriend was definitely checking me out.”

 

Unless, of course, Kirishima goes in the exact opposite direction of being reasonable.

 

It doesn’t happen all that often, not unless they both are interested in the same thing and someone has the whole entire audacity to stand in their way. Most folks take the hint when Bakugou delivers one of his patented glares, but this Todoroki guy responds to it with a bland sort of amusement.

 

“Guys, chill out,” Kaminari whispers to his boyfriends, and yes, it does feel uncomfortable to be the voice of reason.

 

“Let’s be honest, no one is going to ignore a body like yours.” Todoroki says it like he’s stating a fact — the sky is blue, the sun is warm. Kirishima can’t decide if he should take it as a compliment or let go of Bakugou’s shoulder so he can get in Todoroki’s face.

 

“Todoroki! Come help me out with this!”

 

“Ah. It sounds like Midoriya needs me. Nice meeting you all,” then Todoroki walks off to join Izuku, draping an arm around his shoulders. Izuku greets him with one of those smiles — seriously, does he have to give them away so freely?! — and the two step into the house together.

 

That.

 

That son of a-

 


 

“Bitch!”

 

Kaminari winces as Bakugou steps into their house, kicking his shoes off and sending them sailing into the wall. Poor wall. It’s done nothing wrong beyond housing a highly explosive personality and his two chilled out boyfriends.

 

“I can’t believe he did that!”

 

Correction. One chilled out boyfriend.

 

Kaminari watches as the two pace around in the living room, muttering under their breaths about how red and white hair has got to be the dumbest dye job they’ve ever seen. It infuriates Bakugou as a fashion blogger, but more importantly, it’s insulting to think that they’re future bed partner associates with such a disaster.

 

Yes. Future. Because Katsuki Bakugou is confident, goddamnit, and he always gets what he wants. Especially when it’s something that both of his lovers want, too.

 

“Let’s just ask him,” Bakugou says. The pacing has migrated into the kitchen and Kaminari’s more than ok with that. There’s leftover pizza in the fridge and cold pizza is definitely required as he observes his fuming companions.

 

“Ask him?” Kirishima stops pacing. “You mean ask if he’s single?” They’d done that. Kinda. That Todoroki jerk hadn’t answered the question.

 

“I mean ask him to join us.”

 

Kaminari stops, mid-chew, to stare at Bakugou. There’s a pepperoni hanging from his mouth to illustrate his shock — though he shouldn’t be surprised. Katsuki Bakugou is a brash, blunt mother fucker who likes to get straight to the point.

 

The outlandish statement does, at least, get Kirishima to calm down as he proclaims, “Dude, you can’t just ask someone to join your threesome!”

 

“Why not? That’s what Kaminari did.”

 

“Do you have to bring that up?!” The pepperoni falls from Kaminari’s lips. He feels his entire face heat up as he remembers the moment that the three of them hooked up. Or rather, he remembers bits and pieces of it because he’d been full of liquid courage at the time. Inhibitions loose and friends always looking like they’d be right at home in those magazines he kept under his mattress, Kaminari had crossed that friendship line with eager lips and way too curious hands.

 

Kirishima and Bakugou are thankful for it.

 

Kirishima and Bakugou will never let him live it down.

 

“Yes, but we’ve known Kaminari for years.” Kirishima wraps both of his arms around Kaminari’s waist, gently holding him from behind. “We just met Izuku. We’re gonna have to take things slow.”

 

The two watch as Bakugou exhibits the seven stages of grief through his face. It’s almost impressive how something so beautiful contorts into pure nightmare fuel in the span of a couple of seconds. They can see the gears turning in his head, ranging from wanting to set fire to the left side of Todoroki’s body, to coming to terms with the fact that yes, this is going to take time.

 

“... ok but I get to laugh in that asshole’s face when Deku ends up in bed with us.”

 

Kirishima raises an eyebrow at him. “Wow, you’re already calling him Deku?”

 

Bakugou shrugs and gives his two partners a smug look. “I play to win, my dudes.”

 

“... yeah, maybe we should keep Bakugou away until we get Izuku fully on board,” Kaminari says.

 

“Hey, fuck you!”

 

Kaminari responds by finishing off the rest of his pizza.

Chapter Text

They come up with a plan.

 

Yeah, that’s the punchline to the joke because they don’t come up with anything — your boy Kirishima does because Bakugou’s still fuming over Icy Hot and Kaminari’s trying to keep him distracted. He does this by planting himself in Bakugou’s lap, nestling his ass directly against his crotch.

 

“Think that’s gonna work on me?” Bakugou’s voice is a throaty rumble against Kaminari’s ear, like an approaching storm in the horizon.

 

Kaminari shrugs, trying to play it cool as he responds with a smooth, “I can tell that it already is.”

 

To be fair Bakugou’s budding erection is probably thanks to Izuku. Kaminari doesn’t mind because the feeling’s most definitely mutual.

 

“Oh can you now?” Bakugou’s teeth find a home against Kaminari’s neck, nipping at the spot he knows drives him wild — right beneath his left ear. As expected, Kaminari lets out a needy little whine, which gives Bakugou the sensual thumbs up to nibble at his skin like it’s a hot, spicy snack. His hands caress the sides of Kaminari’s body until they settle on his hips, lips sucking on that spot because Bakugou likes to mark things like a child who writes his name on the bottom of a toy’s foot.

 

“Guys. Focus,” Kirishima says as if trying to wrangle in a class full of rowdy teenagers.

 

Kaminari chuckles and says, “Yes sensei ,” and oh, oh my, the word sensei ignites something in Kirishima.

 

“What did you call me?” Kirishima asks as he walks over and stands in front of Kaminari. He knows he shouldn’t take the bait, shouldn’t lean in close enough to feel the warmth of Kaminari’s breath, shouldn’t brush his fingers against Kaminari’s lips as if trying to feel that tantalizing word again: sensei.

 

Bakugou grins at the red head and decides to add fuel to the fire because he doesn’t know how else to live his life. “Hey Denki, you wanna answer Kirishima-sensei ?”

 

“Hell yeah I do.” Kaminari gives one of Kirishima’s fingers a long, sensual lick, a perfect imitation of what he can do to the hardness that he knows is poking through his pants. “I called you sensei .”

 

Well.

 

Fuck.

 


 

They come up with a plan.

 

Still mostly Kirishima’s plan, though.

 

But now it’s being discussed in bed, their clothes haphazardly discarded on the floor as if several get naked landmines have gone off around them.

 

Kaminari is resting between his two lovers, Bakugou behind his back and Kirishima in front of him. Their impromptu sex break has defeated the weaponized spikes of Kirishima’s hair but really, it’s doing the world a favor, because the boy looks best when his hair is flat.

 

“So this plan of yours?” Bakugou asks. All of his earlier frustrations of wanting to praise Izuku Midoriya with his lips while beating the mismatched dye out of Todoroki’s hair have been thoroughly administered to Kaminari’s ass.

 

Bakugou feels like a new man.

 

Kaminari feels like he’s run out of batteries — eh, outdated reference, in this day and age he’d be the iPhone in desperate need of that USB cord.

 

“It’s simple, really. We just need to go slow.”

 

Kaminari is trying his best to stay awake and listen to what Kirishima has to say, but his eyes are drooping, a small line of drool trickling down to his chin.

 

“Slow?” Bakugou speaks the word like it comes from a foreign language — and look, he’s a fashion blogger, so he’s pretty fluent thanks to designer names, various fashion weeks, and growing up with parents in the industry.

 

“Yes, Katsuki. Slow. If we all rush after him we’ll scare him away... or his little peppermint friend will cockblock us.”

 

Bakugou frowns for a couple of different reasons.

 

One: the mere mention of Todoroki makes his blood boil to dangerous temperatures, like, he could probably sweat nitroglycerin if he tried.

 

Two: the idea of going slow when a living, breathing fantasy has moved in next door is downright offensive. Bakugou should arrest Kirishima right now on the grounds of being a terrible boyfriend who clearly doesn’t have their best interests in mind. He should handcuff him to the bed and-

 

Ah. Mental note. Hand-

 

“You thinkin’ about handcuffs?” Kirishima smirks at Bakugou. “Nice.”

 

Three: he hates it when Kirishima’s right. He knows that sounds like a heaping helping of petty mayonnaise but Katsuki Bakugou isn’t a fan of being... wrong... ugh, the word leaves a sour tang in his mouth. Even if they’re dating he dislikes the smug look on Kirishima’s perfectly chiseled face — and yes, it’s because it rivals his own conceited ass tendencies.

 

But as much as it pains him, he knows that Kirishima is dropping those red hot truth bombs. They absolutely cannot rush this, otherwise, their freckly little rabbit will scurry off. “So we approach him... one at a time?”

 

“Exactly! And we don’t make a move without telling each other first.” Kirishima beams, always feeling like he reached the end all, be all achievement whenever Bakugou agrees with him. “We just take our time, do the good neighbor thing, and then-”

 

“Fuck his brains out?” Bakugou says it like it’s a fact. Because it is. He’s going to, literally, fuck Izuku Midoriya stupid, like, say hello to summer school, cutie, because you’re gonna fail all the classes at that elite graduate school of yours.

 

Kaminari grumbles when he feels Bakugou’s dick standing at full attention from the mere thought of obliterating Izuku’s brain matter via vigorous amounts of sex. “Dude, are you serious right now?!”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m tired!” Between the morning blow job, the new neighbor, and the whole sensei debacle Kaminari’s ready for a nap. “Go fuck Kirishima.”

 

“Your ass is right here, though.”

 

“Dude!”

 

“He’s right,” Kirishima says, his hand already getting reacquainted with Kaminari’s penis. Just as he suspected, the electric haired blond is getting hard, body going stiff when Kirishima wraps a strong hand around his cock. “Now be a good boy for sensei and part your lips for me,” then he moves in like a ravenous predator, mouth crashing against Kaminari’s already trembling lips.

 

Well.

 

Fuck.

 


 

And thus begins the take it slow plan where hashtag Team Poly decides to be on their best behavior, also known as, “Stop ogling Izuku Midoriya, goddamnit.” This leads to a lot of overly rehearsed greetings whenever one of them crosses paths with him. In the morning, when he’s grabbing the mail, inevitably trashing the unnecessary flyers but keeping the coupons to his favorite food spots. In the afternoon, when he gets back from class, Todoroki dropping him off and, on occasion, staying over to study.

 

Because fate is a son of a bitch, Bakugou’s the one who runs into Izuku the most. Kirishima’s day starts way too early, and Kaminari’s got an awful combination of closing to opening shifts because his manager cosplays as Satan.

 

Damn Bakugou’s stay at home job.

 

Damn Izuku Midoriya for being so frustratingly pretty that Bakugou actually debates taking his laptop to a, gasp, coffee shop. How is he supposed to focus on taking obnoxiously attractive selfies in the clothes designers send him when he knows that Izuku is right next door studying with that tomato and onion haired shitstain? Bakugou has no issue with Izuku’s other friends. When he sees them they’re courteous — Uraraka is always full of smiles and Iida, who’s as stiff as a wooden plank, gives a firm good afternoon . But Todoroki? He’s always smirking, like he knows something that Bakugou doesn’t, like he’s begging to be punched in the face.

 

Bakugou’s ready to trash this plan. He wants to take Izuku by the hand and fuck him against the side of his house. Better yet, he wants to fuck him against Todoroki’s car, spread his body out over the hood of it, scuff it up with a mix of sweat and cum.

 

But then.

 

It happens.

 

Exactly one week later, when Izuku sees Bakugou, grabbing his mail like he always does, he says a cheerful greeting of, “Morning Kacchan!”

 

Bakugou must be channeling Kaminari because his brain goes on the fritz. “W-what?”

 

“O-oh! I... sorry, I’m sorry about that! Just... I-I dunno, it just came out, I’m really sorry!”

 

Bakugou watches the smaller young man rush back to his house, slamming the door shut behind him.

 

Well.

 

“Fuck.”

 

Part of Bakugou wants to run back to his house as if Izuku just checked the yes box in the, “Do you like me: yes or no?” questionnaire. The other part wants to keep the exchange to himself, knowing that Kirishima will strut around with an I told you so grin for days on end. In the end, he decides to keep quiet. There’s no need to-

 

“He called me Kacchan .”

 

Well now, that just slipped right out, didn’t it?

 

Kaminari chokes on his cereal, the multicolored loops nearly sending him to the emergency room. He actually wouldn’t mind, to be honest, because then he’d be able to skip out on work this morning. “He did what?!”

 

Bakugou sits at the table with Kaminari. Kirishima’s already gone off to the gym, leaving the two alone to decipher the deeper meaning of Kacchan . “He said it so easily, too, like we’d been friends for years.”

 

“Holy shit! Holy shit holy shit! The holiest of shits!”

 

“Denki, relax...” but Bakugou doesn’t mean it. This is a huge step forward. It’s a sign that Izuku’s getting comfortable with them and it’s all thanks to Katsuki Bakugou.

 

Oh, and Kirishima, because it was his plan or whatever. Ah, Bakugou’s such a nice guy for sharing the spotlight.

 

“And here Kirishima thought he ruined things by going too fast.”

 

“Say what now?”

 

“Oh...” it occurs to Kaminari that he’s said too much. He decides to stuff another spoonful of cereal in his mouth instead of saying anything else.

 

“Kaminari. What are you talking about?”

 

“Can’t talk. Cerealing,” Kaminari says between each bite of crunchy sugar.

 

“Damnit Kaminari!”

 

“All right all right, he’s been with Izuku already!”

 

The words enter into the deep chasm of Bakugou’s mind, slowly, giving him enough time to register their meaning. Kirishima. His best bud. His muscular boyfriend with that award winning smile. The main campaign runner for take things slow .

 

He’s... already been with Deku?

 

But hey, been with can mean anything, right? It’s not necessarily sexual in nature. Maybe it doesn’t mean what he thinks it means. “Define been with , Kaminari.”

 

“I just... I-I saw them kissing one morning...”

 

Nope, it’s official. There is no Santa Claus. The Tooth Fairy is a lie just like the cake. And Eijiro Kirishima is the biggest hypocrite who’s ever lived. This is the greatest betrayal of the century, made worse because Kaminari’s known about it, made worse because it’s obvious that him and Kirishima have talked about it.

 

Still. There is a silver lining to this. Bakugou does take a sadistic sort of pleasure in being so threatening that when the Grim Reaper does show up to collect his soul the scythe wielder will have second thoughts. “I’m gonna have a long talk with Kirishima. And don’t you dare text him.”

 

“Y-y-yes sir.”

 

A heavy silence hangs between the two, Kaminari’s cereal getting soggy, Bakugou’s frown becoming a permanent fixture on his face. Finally, Kaminari speaks up and asks, “Wanna make out?” Because it usually makes Bakugou feel better, and well, he can blame some outside force for being late to work. Traffic. School bus full of screaming birth control reminders — children, they're called children, Kaminari. 

 

The frown shifts into something more welcoming and Bakugou rolls his eyes, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Come here, dipshit.”

 

He’ll store up the rest of his anger for later.

 


 

The only thing scarier than a loud and angry Bakugou is a calm one. That’s him truly taking after his mother, a woman who’ll smack folks down with a smile on her face. Kirishima can tell that he’s stepping into a contaminated area, the air in the house thick the moment he gets home from work.

 

Even worse? Kaminari’s not there to act as a buffer, not home from work yet because his manager probably asked — told — him to stay late.

 

“Hey babe.” Kirishima does his best not to sound nervous. He knows something’s up, but he needs to tread carefully as he tries to figure out what it is.

 

Bakugou’s in the kitchen, chopping vegetables, maybe it’s for dinner, maybe it’s to stab Kirishima in his perfect abs. “Hey.”

 

Kirishima takes a chance and walks over, wraps his arms around Bakugou and kisses his on his cheek — not his lips, he wouldn’t dare, not yet. “How was your day?” A nice, neutral question.

 

“Eijiro.” Bakugou faces him. Man to man. Lover trying to bang the neighbor to lover. “I just want you to be honest with me.”

 

“Well...”

 

Fuck.

 


 

So it started three days ago, a fact that makes Bakugou cut into a carrot with such force that a chunk of it goes careening into the sink. Kirishima had gotten up early, as always, because the only place he liked as much as their bedroom was the gym. He had a client he was meeting later that afternoon, which gave him plenty of time to get in a workout, a hearty breakfast, a Bakugou, a Kaminari, a Bakugou and a Kaminari, and a shower. After untangling himself from the pile of his boyfriends’ limbs he grabbed his duffel bag, threw on some comfortable clothes — with a shirt, sigh — and headed out the door.

 

He didn’t make it far.

 

Because at the house next door, standing at the end of the driveway, was Izuku Midoriya, dressed in loose shorts and a hoodie, red shoes well loved and headphones ready to go.

 

“Midoriya?”

 

Izuku smiled when he saw him, gave a pre-dawn good morning and asked why he was up so early.

 

“Gym,” Kirishima said. “You?”

 

“Oh, morning jog. Used to do it with Iida and it kinda became routine for me.”

 

“Ah. You two don’t jog together anymore?”

 

“Naw.” Was that a whisper of pain in his voice? “He stopped, some personal family stuff, but I can tell he misses it. Uraraka and Todoroki say to give him time.”

 

Learning personal details about Izuku Midoriya? Definitely something to mentally pat himself on the back for. But this was no time for self-congratulatory behavior. It was obvious that this was a touchy subject. “Hey... I’m sure she’s right. You’ll get your jogging buddy back soon enough.”

 

“O-oh! Right! I... sorry, I shouldn’t be dumping this all on you.”

 

“Hey, it’s fine. We’re neighbors and the only humans up at 5 AM.”

 

Izuku’s smile filled Kirishima’s heart to the brim, perking him up better than any kind of coffee. “I take it your roommates don’t get up and go to the gym with you?”

 

“Hell no.” Kirishima laughed at the thought. He’d tried one time. Just one. Bakugou had swiftly cursed him out for trying to wake him up so early and Kaminari hadn’t even woken up during the tirade. “They appreciate the body the gym produces but aren’t about to get up and see the process.”

 

“Can’t blame them for appreciating it...”

 

Oh.

 

Kirishima knew what he should’ve done. He should’ve pretended like he didn’t hear the compliment. They had discussed a plan — his plan — and it would be beyond shitty of him to veer off course.

 

But. Well. This wasn’t the first time their neighbor took notice of him, so the smirk happened naturally, and Izuku’s face flushed so beautifully.

 

“I-I didn’t mean-”

 

“Naw it’s cool.” Beyond cool. Supremely cool. “I mean I’m a personal trainer, I would hope my body reflects that.”

 

“Personal trainer? Yeah, makes sense, definitely makes sense...”

 

What happened next would take Kirishima down the path of no return. “You know, if you want someone to jog with...”

 

Such an innocent suggestion. Izuku attempted to say that he didn’t want to be a bother, didn’t want Kirishima to rearrange his schedule like that, but Kirishima didn’t let him, insisted that it would be fine.

 

And it was.

 

Until it wasn’t.

 

No, still was, just wasn’t, because of the plan, you know? Taking things slow and not moving in on Izuku until letting his boyfriends know had been Kirishima’s idea, but after the two had jogged together things got a little... x-rated.

 

Like a cheap porno that tried its best with its here to fix your cable, boom chicka bow bow , Kirishima found himself inside Izuku’s house, out of breath, body feeling a pleasant hum after being pushed to the limit. To his delight, Izuku had been able to keep up with him during the jog, the two enjoying the sound of their feet hitting the pavement together. Kirishima didn’t have someone to share this sort of thing with — not this early in the morning, anyway. Him and Bakugou would exercise together at home when they had the time which, let’s be honest, often led to a different kind of workout after twenty minutes — ten if Kaminari was there to whine about exercise being for suckers.

 

So leaning back against Izuku’s door, watching the smaller man hunched over with a delighted smile? It was doing things to Kirishima’s self control.

 

“Haven’t had that in a while,” Izuku panted. Kirishima knew what he meant. Working out alone was fine but there was something almost intimate about having someone with you. Without realizing it, the two of them had gone beyond their normal routine. Izuku had jogged a longer distance, and Kirishima had picked up speed, his legs now punishing him for it.

 

Bakugou and Kaminari wouldn’t get it, but it was like the two of them had-

 

“Wait. So you two didn’t do anything? You’re just talking about working out?”

 

Kirishima knows he should say yes and call it a day. It’s such an easy out, too. He can say yes and Bakugou will roll his eyes about his obsession with working out. But Kirishima, bless his heart, isn’t a liar.

 

Except for not telling Bakugou the truth until now.

 

Is that really lying, though?

 

Yeah. Probably.

 

So Kirishima continues his story, talks about the look in Izuku’s eyes, how they’d shifted into a sort of dark green, like a forest fire ready to engulf him. Izuku tried to brush it off, tried to say that he’d get them some water, even offered to let Kirishima use his shower. And Kirishima should’ve let him walk off, no, he should’ve turned around and gone home. It was only a few steps back to his house and he knew that he could wake Kaminari up, at the very least, to alleviate the stiffness in his crotch.

 

But no.

 

He went full force.

 

Blew past the notion of taking anything slow and said, “Come here, Izuku.”

 

And everything dissolved into chaos.

 

It was so easy to lift Izuku up, spin him around and slam him against the door. Feeling the shorter man’s legs wrapped securely around his waist proved to be a powerful aphrodisiac, and soon the two were kissing as if they’d survived the apocalypse. Izuku’s lips were dry, chapped, in desperate need of that water he said he’d get for them but Kirishima didn’t care. The toned legs around him, the strong grip of Izuku’s arms around his shoulders, it all created an intoxicating build up between the two neighbors.

 

He knew his boyfriends would kill him for this — Bakugou especially when he found out that Kirishima had taken those plush, lovely ass cheeks between his fingers and gave them a good squeeze.

 

The moan that tore from deep within Izuku’s throat was a good enough reason to not give a single, solitary fuck.

 

“Living room,” Izuku said between breathless kisses. The living room was close and there was a couch they could sit on.

 

Kirishima respond by biting down on his bottom lip, then trailing his lips to Izuku’s neck. There were beads of sweat there that Kirishima wanted to taste.

 

“K-Kirishima, we should-... ah, the living room, it... oh, oh ...”

 

“Here?” Kirishima pressed his teeth against the juncture of neck and shoulder. “Right here, Izuku?”

 

“Y-yeah, right there, that’s good, so good,” then he dug his fingers into Kirishima’s hair, tugging at the red strands as if his life depended on it.

 

Bakugou’s still listening to all of this and he’s trying his best to stay mad, but the image of Kirishima and Izuku is reminding him of a few things. First and foremost, Kirishima is a babe. He’s a high quality boyfriend, an amazingly cool dude, and ridiculously delicious in bed. Somehow, Bakugou’s landed a good one, one who’s also polyamorous and also has the same taste in partners. So the thought of this red haired hunk making out with the hotness next door is beyond appealing, like, it’d probably be banned in a couple of places for being too sexual.

 

Bakugou knows he should be angry on principle, but the desire is going straight to his dick.

 

Kirishima — perceptive as always — notices, and the hungry grin on his face is a telltale sign that dinner’s going to be delayed.

 

“You wanna know what happened next?” Kirishima leans in close. Bakugou’s not chopping anything, knife left on the cutting board, breaths uneven as Kirishima whispers the rest of the story into his ear. “He got on his knees for me.”

 

“Fuck, oh fuck.” Bakugou’s not sure when Kirishima got his hand down his pants, but it’s in there, fingers wrapping around the sudden erection he has as he imagines what Izuku Midoriya looks like, fresh from a jog, in-between his boyfriend’s legs. Bakugou imagines him looking like a bastardization of a prayer, on his knees and ready to worship, eyes heavily lidded and lips parted — praise them, Amen .

 

“Never made it to the living room. Just did it right there by the front door.” Kirishima’s getting painfully hard from the memory, panting against Bakugou’s ear as he jerks him off. He remembers the feel of Izuku’s hands on him, the way they felt as they pulled his jogging pants and boxers down. He remembers the sweet, butterfly kisses to his skin, the husky moans he didn’t realize Izuku was capable of. He remembers the whispered appreciation to the dick in front of him. “Said I was thick, and big, and-”

 

“Fuck Eijiro,” because they’d thought Izuku was a good little neighbor who needed to be treated with kid gloves, but apparently, he’s just as depraved as the rest of them. Bakugou grips onto the edge of the counter, lets Kirishima’s words overtake him as he pumps his cock in hurried, hot strokes as he remembers, fuck, he remembers. “Tell me. Tell me what it felt like.”

 

“He’s a tease,” Kirishima breathes against Bakugou’s neck, sinking his teeth into his skin.

 

Izuku had rubbed his cheek against him, nuzzling his erection and his coarse pubic hair like a cat in heat. Kirishima had wanted to mention the couch for the sheer purpose of having somewhere to sit because his knees were starting to feel useless, palms pressed against the door as he looked down at the wild mop of green hair. The words were caught in his throat, the couch like some mirage in the desert as Izuku caressed his penis with his lips.

 

He didn’t want to compare techniques but this was nothing like Kaminari, nothing like the double blowjob he’d been gifted on his birthday eight months ago — and yes, he still savors that memory, two sets of lips on his cock: Happy Birthday indeed . Izuku was going so slow that Kirishima felt like he was being analyzed, studied, Izuku taking notes on which spots made him tremble the most.

 

“Fucking shit get on with it!” The cry comes from Katsuki, whose now at his boyfriend’s mercy as he tells the story.

 

“I felt the same way,” Kirishima whispers, remembering how Izuku sucked at the tip, swirled his tongue around it, and pulled back just to watch the line of drool that connected his lips to Kirishima so intimately. Kaminari would never be so cruel. Kaminari would deep throat him like a trained professional, get the job done like he was on the clock. Not Izuku Midoriya, though, who proceeded with so much caution that, “I grabbed him by the hair and pressed myself against his face.”

 

That detail almost makes Bakugou lose it because Kirishima’s not that kind of guy. He’s not gonna force his dick down someone’s throat, not gonna push someone’s head down when they clearly aren’t ready yet. So knowing that Izuku — Deku — brought him to that point is entirely too much, Bakugou clinging to his boyfriend as he thrusts himself into his impatient hand.

 

“Gonna cum for me?” Kirishima growls — an uncaged animal, disorderly and primal. “Gonna cum while you think about me fucking that cute little mouth next door?” He can’t decide if his dirty talk game has increased because of having a boyfriend whose first words as a child were fuck you or because of the memory of Izuku completely undoing him. Whatever it is, it’s eliciting all kinds of noises from Bakugou, the sounds fogging up the kitchen and echoing all around them.

 

But Kirishima’s not done, no, not yet, because he’s got one more detail to add to the story.

 

“Gonna cum for me? The way I came in his mouth?”

 

That’s what does it.

 

Because now Bakugou’s imagining his boyfriend’s strong, needy hands clutching onto green strands of hair as Izuku keeps his lips around him, completely drinking him in. Maybe Izuku’s able to handle all of it, but Bakugou imagines some of Kirishima slipping past his lips and down to his chin. He imagines a dazed look in those big green eyes, maybe Izuku licks his lips, maybe Izuku leans in and licks at Kirishima’s penis and thighs to get another taste because he’s a greedy little so and so.

 

Bakugou’s a proud person, a real son of a bitch, but he sags in Kirishima’s arms and lets himself enjoy the afterglow without making any fuss. He’s the guy that likes to have the last word but his body feels so satisfied that he lets Kirishima have this one.

 

Which, of course, Kirishima has to rub in Bakugou’s face a little. “Still mad at me?”

 

“Yeah.” He’s not. The frown on his face is too soft and his hand is pressed against Kirishima’s crotch. His boyfriend still hasn’t cum yet but he can tell that he’s close, still high off the story he was telling.

 

“Yeah? I can tell.” Kirishima tries to laugh but it’s broken, voice heavy in anticipation... then breaking into a whine when Bakugou pulls his hand away. “Dude, come on...”

 

“Shut up,” Bakugou says as he walks away, and Kirishima almost gives a full pout until he realizes that Bakugou is heading to the bedroom.

 

“Why the bedroom when we just did it out here?”

 

“Lube’s in the bedroom, blockhead.”

 

Oh.

 

Oh.

 

“You mean...”

 

“You better hurry before I change my mind.”

 

Well.

 

Fuck!”

 


 

Denki Kaminari has a plan. He’s gonna throw this front door open, step inside this house, and pass the fuck out. Staying late does mean extra dollars in his paycheck but there’s something to be said about getting home, consistently, at the same time.

 

He doesn’t hate his manager. Not really. He understands the snap in her voice and the need to have employees stay late. District managers breathing down her neck. New games coming out. More customers who request you specifically to air their grievances, then being surprised because the manager is a woman. It’s the reason why Kaminari has no interest in moving up the ladder, as they say.

 

“Good evening!”

 

Kaminari looks across the yard to see Izuku waving to him from his door. Well. That’s a nice thing to return home to. “‘Sup Midoriya!”

 

Does he sound cool?

 

He sounds cool, right?

 

Izuku smiles at him and Kaminari takes it as a good sign... even if their neighbor smiles at everything. “I shouldn’t hold you up, I just wanted to say hi.”

 

“Naw, it’s cool,” so cool that Kaminari abandons his dream of collapsing in his bed to walk over and talk to Izuku. Why? He’s not even sure, but it makes Izuku laugh, which makes Kaminari feel like an awkward 15 year-old with a crush. “Are you just getting home, too?” Good. Attempt a conversation, like a human would do.

 

“Yeah, Todoroki just dropped me off.”

 

“Ah, the boyfriend?” Kaminari’s not sure why he asks, not when he’s seen Kirishima and Izuku making out because he’d been up way too early one morning — seriously, needing to pee before his alarm is the worst. Todoroki may have rubbed them the wrong way, but damn, if Izuku’s cheating on him with-

 

“The what?! No, no nothing like that,” Izuku giggles. “We’re just friends.”

 

“Huh. So you’re single?” Damnit Kaminari, stop talking. This is so far removed from taking your time.

 

“I...” Izuku blushes. “Well, um, your... roommate?”

 

“Boyfriend.”

 

“B-boyfriend?!”

 

Oh god.

 

Oh no.

 

It slowly dawns on Kaminari why Izuku’s face begins to turn pale, his eyes shifting into a pure look of horror. Before he can open his mouth to explain himself Izuku is rambling off apologies faster than an auctioneer. Kaminari tries to stop him but Izuku’s scrambling back inside the house, and... shit, are those tears? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck-

 

Izuku closes the door.

 

“Well... fuck.”

Chapter Text

Listen.

 

Denki Kaminari is a smart dude.

 

When he applies himself he can be one of those trivia buffs or whatever, you know? He can answer game show questions with so much ease that if he actually went on the air it’d piss off the other contestants. And puzzle games? Yeah. Those are kinda his jam. Stays up and battles against snarky A.I. units with a portal gun and his wits. And you know what? If he tried, he could probably get into that fancy grad school. His test scores were actually good in school — not just decent, no C minuses up in this house. People look at him and assume idiot but there’s a difference between boredom and stupidity, y’all.

 

Denki Kaminari is intelligent as hell.

 

He’s also the dumbest motherfucker you’ll ever meet.

 

He gets flustered. Easily. Trips over words and says all the wrong things. His brain don’t work too good when he’s put on the spot, especially when it comes to people he’s into. Remember? He put the moves on his two best buds with the help of alcohol? Even if he’d been into them for lord knows how long. Even if they’d been dropping hints like lures in that gotta catch em’ all app.

 

So yeah. He’s stupid in that sense.

 

Fortunately, he’s well aware of his tendencies to stuff his mouth with his foot, like, he knows what his toes taste like by now. Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop him from, well, making the neighbor they’re trying to bang think that he’s had some kind of affair.

 

Fucking oops.

 

Rather than bang on Izuku’s front door — and really, he doubts he’d answer at this point — Kaminari tucks his tail between his legs and goes home. He’ll just explain in the nicest way possible that he kinda, sorta, broke the cutie’s heart.

 

So he takes a deep breath.

 

Opens the door.

 

And hears Katsuki Bakugou giving Eijiro Kirishima strict instructions on how he should be fucking him, goddamnit, don’t be a tease you’re not good at it just fuck me!

 

Kaminari blinks.

 

Then blinks again.

 

His mouth hangs open like a goldfish as he wonders if he, by chance, fell asleep in the back room at work and is dreaming. Kaminari slowly approaches the bedroom like the heroine in a horror movie — not that Bakugou’s demands are frightening, oh no, they’re just not a common occurrence in this house.

 

But today.

 

When Kaminari opens the bedroom door.

 

He sees Bakugou — temperamental asshole extraordinaire — naked, straddling Kirishima’s lap, hands gripping onto his shoulders as he rides his dick like he’s been training for this his whole life. Kirishima’s watching him, letting Bakugou do all the work because he knows the blond likes to put on a show, likes to be the center of attention when he gets in one of these moods. Kirishima gives his ass a nice, hard smack, telling him to go faster without using any words. Bakugou lets out a breathless grunt in response then begins to pick up the pace.

 

“Yeah, just like that,” Kirishima says, nipping at Bakugou’s ear and growling into it like a feral creature on the hunt.

 

“Fuck Kiri, fucking shit! Fill me up, fuck, fuck!”

 

So.

 

Here’s a bit of information about Katsuki Bakugou.

 

He’s the guy you look at and know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he’s a dominant force that’ll slam you up against a wall and either punch you or fuck you — depending on the circumstances. If you say you’re friends with him people wonder if you’re crazy, and if you say you’re dating him they wonder if you have a deathwish. But fucking? They can get behind that notion. Because Bakugou’s gorgeous, with kisses made of fire and hands made to touch you, grab you, pin you down and growl nasty stuff in your ear but you like it, don’t you?

 

That’s not to say he’s opposed to being on the bottom. Just because it’s rare doesn’t mean he’s not into it. With the right person — Kirishima — it can be a lot of fun — Fuck, yes, Kirishima — as long as they realize what they’re getting into. Bottom for Bakugou doesn’t mean you get to push me around, it means you’re fucking me because I told you to and I’m still calling the shots, got it?

 

Kirishima gets it. He’s always gotten it. He’s good for Bakugou because he understands his looks, his sounds. He’s so good for Bakugou that it leaves Kaminari breathless, standing at the door and watching his two boyfriends work up a desirable sweat.

 

“Gonna just stand there?” Kirishima asks, a playful little grin aimed directly at Kaminari.

 

Bakugou glances behind him, eyes heavy and drunk on Kirishima, skin damn near feverish. He has the same kind of look on his face that Kirishima does, smile large and tantalizingly dangerous. “Stop being a voyeur and get over here.”

 

“I... t-t-thought you’d be mad about-” because that’s the other thing about Bakugou: he can hold one hell of a grudge. He’d been livid this morning, so angry about Kirishima’s apparent betrayal that Kaminari had no choice but to fool around with him to try and calm him down. Ha. Right. No choice , Kaminari, really? You just had to let him kiss you hard enough to make your mouth feel numb? Just had to be late for work to let your boyfriend suck on your neck like a thirsty ass vampire?

 

“We worked it out,” Kirishima smiles, relieved about the outcome of the whole I moved in on the cutie next door before telling you debacle.

 

“I can see that, just, I mean...” this is like the best possible outcome, the victory screen that went far beyond Kaminari’s wildest dreams.

 

And he’s gonna crush it with his beat up tennis shoes, shatter it when he reveals what he said to Izuku.

 

Later.

 

He’s gonna do all of that later.

 

He’s an asshole. He knows he is. Because he should tell his boyfriends about the Izuku Midoriya situation right here, right now, but instead he’s walking over to join them. He’s standing behind Bakugou now, reaching around to caress the sweat that dots his chest. His fingers circle around his nipples, gives then both a light squeeze until Bakugou barks at him to do it harder, goddamnit, if you’re gonna tug at them then fully commit, ok?

 

So now Kaminari’s gotta push aside any lingering thoughts of his screw up. He’s got nipples to pinch and an ear to breathe heavily into, and really, that’s much more important than having any sort of awkward conversations about the affair Midoriya thinks he’s had with Kirishima.

 

“Fuck, I’m close, fucking shit!”

 

Yep. Much more important.

 

So Kaminari slides his hand between Bakugou’s legs, gasping from the feel of his hot, hard cock. He gives him a rushed handjob like his parents are coming home soon, like he absolutely needs to rub one out before they pull into the driveway. It’s dirty. It’s filthy. It hopefully serves as some sort of foreshadowing to the apologies he’s gonna have to give because shit, sorry for ruining our potential foursome, you can cum all over my hand, I’ll even lick my fingers clean because I know you’re kinda into that.

 

When Kirishima reaches his climax he falls back against the bed, sounding like he ran a marathon just for the hell of it. He keeps his eyes on Bakugou, who looks like a total mess because Kaminari’s pumping one hand around his dick, the other pulling a nipple hard enough to make Bakugou — Katsuki Bakugou — whine like he’s begging for a candy bar without any money to pay for it. It only takes a few seconds for Bakugou to feel the orgasm he’d been chasing, his body going limp against Kaminari who does, indeed, lick his fingers like he’s tasting the melted remnants of an ice cream cone.

 

The three lay in bed together after that, Kirishima and Bakugou’s naked bodies looking like ethereal creatures who have no business lowering their standards by hanging out on this planet. Kaminari’s laying between them, naked at their insistence, as he tries and work up the nerve to tell them the truth.

 

Except Kirishima is slipping under the covers, lips and teeth playing with his thighs.

 

Except Bakugou — who recovers faster than that pink rabbit with the drum — is also slipping under the covers, literally kissing his ass, hands spreading the cheeks apart so he can massaging the opening with his tongue.

 

Later.

 

He’ll tell them later.

 

Because he’s an asshole.

 

***

 

“Hey! Morning Midoriya!”

 

“Ah. Um. H-hi Kirishima.”

 

“Ready for our jog?” Among other things. Among so many other things. Hint hint. Shove shove.

 

“Actually... I-I think... I-I’m gonna skip today.”

 

“Huh?” That’s odd since Midoriya’s already at the end of his driveway, dressed in his hoodie and shorts, bright red shoes ready to run around the neighborhood. “But you’re-”

 

“I-I’m not feeling well.” It’s such an obvious lie, like the kid who puts the thermometer against the lamp to try and increase the temperature and avoid going to school.

 

“Hey...” Kirishima puts a hand on his shoulder. Kind. Gentle. “Is everything all right?”

 

“Why don’t you ask your boyfriend!”

 

“... what?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Midoriya says, taking a step away from Kirishima. “I’m sorry, that was really petty,” but then the flustered look transitions into something raw, something angry and hurt. “No, no I take that back, I’m not sorry. I-I’m not sorry you stupidly attractive liar!”

 

“Huh?! Wait, what are you-” but Midoriya is running back to his house, stepping inside, and slamming the door shut.

 

***

 

“Hey.”

 

Kaminari groans when he feels Kirishima shaking him awake. He’s busy being Katsuki Bakugou’s personal body pillow, his boyfriend’s arms and legs tangled around him like some kind of kinky rope bondage demonstration — eh, it’s early in the morning, his analogies are full of perverted thoughts because of course they are.

 

“Hey, dipshit, wake up.”

 

Kaminari blinks his eyes open. Kirishima’s not the type to resort to name calling, at least, nothing harsher than the occasional idiot. “‘Sup?”

 

“You tell me. What happened with Midoriya?”

 

Bakugou’s not a morning person, doesn’t have to be when he works from home, but hearing the name Midoriya acts as an alarm, especially since Kirishima sounds... angry? Is that anger? He’s definitely perturbed and, ok, it’s kinda hot because Kirishima isn’t the pissed off one in the relationship. “Something happen with Deku?” Something else , he should say, since Kirishima already jumped the gun... but this doesn’t sound fun like a morning blowjob.

 

It’s here that Kaminari pulls himself away from Bakugou to sit up in the bed, trying to prolong the inevitable by stretching and letting out a loud yawn — he did just get woken up after all. To be fair, he thought he’d have a bit more time, but in the mist of last night’s... activities... he’d forgotten the whole jogging with Izuku Midoriya thing.

 

“Kaminari.”

 

“What happened?”

 

Kaminari delivers his best smile, plasters it onto his face with the strongest please forgive me superglue he can muster. “So... funny story...”

 

***

 

“Oi. Get that dopey look off your face and put these games away.”

 

That’s Jirou, his manager, a cool girl to grab a drink with but man, this retail world’s got her high strung. Still, Kaminari nods and does as he’s told, after all, he doesn’t envy her job at all. He’ll be the low tier grunt if it means avoiding conference calls, stress about performance numbers, and district managers who visit the store and make comments about signs being off center by two centimeters.

 

Kaminari gets the stack put away and goes back behind the counter. It’s a blissfully quiet day after his marathon of crazy shifts. They’d somehow survived a string of game launches and the barren store is their reward. Normally, Kaminari would relish in it, maybe space out as he watches the same game demo, or grab one of the handheld systems to waste time. But the lack of activity lets his mind wander too much for his comfort.

 

“You did what?!”

 

“I’m sorry! So sorry! I didn’t mean it, it just slipped out!”

 

The good news, in hindsight, is that he’s still, well, alive . The bad news is that his boyfriends are beyond done with him — Kirishima especially.

 

See, Kaminari expected Bakugou to be angry because, you know, the magic eight ball is permanently set on yes when you ask if Katsuki Bakugou is pissed off. But Kirishima? Always friendly, always smiling, always looking like he’s humming a cheerful tune in his head? He hadn’t been expecting his rage even if he’s the one who should be mad. Even so, Kaminari had expected Kirishima to shove his anger aside in favor of acting as a buffer to Bakugou’s outbursts. That’s what Kirishima usually does, anyway. He’s like an attractive human shield, made of muscles and smiles ready for toothpaste ads.

 

But.

 

“So he thinks I’m some kind of cheating asshole?!”

 

“I... well... h-he didn’t say it like that...”

 

“Dude!”

 

“I’m sorry!”

 

“You better fix this! I’m poly not a cheating scumbag!”

 

“I know, a-and I will!”

 

“Good!”

 

“... did you... w-wanna make out?”

 

“ARE YOU FOR REAL?!”

 

“It works on Bakugou!”

 

“DO I LOOK LIKE BAKUGOU TO YOU?!”

 

So yeah, not Kaminari’s finest moment — even if Bakugou found it fucking hilarious. He’d been grinning at Kaminari the entire time instead of trying to, you know, throttle him. Admittedly, this should’ve been a good thing, but it was such an uncharacteristic reaction that Kirishima couldn’t help but ask why their hot tempered boyfriend wasn’t trying to commit murder — jail time be damned, besides, the judge would understand once they took one look at Izuku Midoriya.

 

“Perhaps this is your punishment for not sticking to your own plan.”

 

“You just got off from thinking about me and Midoriya!”

 

“Hm... Deku’s probably pretty distraught. Maybe I should go and comfort him...”

 

“Dude are you really that petty?!”

 

Yep.

 

He is.

 

They both know he is.

 

And it’d be perfect, wouldn’t it? The handsome roommate strolls over to let the freckle faced object of their desires cry about how awful he feels. He didn’t know Kirishima was in a relationship, he’d say, then Bakugou could say that he had no idea Kirishima had put the moves on him.

 

“You realize that could potentially ruin any chance for the foursome we want, right?”

 

“Right, cuz Kaminari’s actually capable of fixing his shitstorm he created.”

 

“I can fix it, you jackass,” Kaminari mutters to himself. He hates when people underestimate him, especially when it’s someone he’s in love with or whatever. Just because he plays the part of court jester doesn’t mean he’s incapable.

 

“Hey dingus, I’ve told you about talking to yourself.”

 

“Sorry, just thinking.”

 

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

 

“Ha ha,” but Jirou joking around is a good sign. That means the retail stress has worn off — temporarily — and she’s back to being the cool, punk rock manager he can chat with about video games and that one girl she’s crushing on, the rich one who’s clueless about games but gets them for her younger family members.

 

“What are you trying to fix?”

 

“Stuff with boyfriends.”

 

“One or both?”

 

That’s the other cool thing about Jirou, she didn’t even bat an eye when she found out Kaminari had two partners, even lets them use the discount despite it being for family and spouses. “Mainly one.”

 

Jirou leans back against the counter, nodding to a couple of teens who’ve wandered in to play the demos. They won’t buy anything, they rarely do. “Which one?”

 

“Kirishima.”

 

“Dude...”

 

“I know.”

 

“He’s the nice one.”

 

“I knooooow...” He lets out a loud, exhausted sigh because out of the two he knows Kirishima is everyone’s perfect boy.

 

“What did you do?”

 

“It’s not exactly worksafe...”

 

Jirou shrugs, and man, this is beyond being free from corporate nonsense if she’s willing to keep the conversation going. This is definitely a we got an email saying we’re the best store in the district high. “Just edit as best you can.”

 

“Well, there’s this-”

 

“Look! It’s here!”

 

... guy.

 

Named Izuku Midoriya.

 

Who’s walking into the store with his gaggle of friends, looking at video games with those wide, wondrous eyes of his. Kaminari’s mouth drops open because wow, is Izuku a gamer, too? Is this green apple haired young man just a fever dream of Kaminari’s ideal fantasy?

 

“Midoriya, calm down a bit,” says Iida, but there’s an almost fond smile on his face.

 

“Oh go easy on him, Iida. We survived exams, it’s time to reward ourselves!” Ah Uraraka, the group cheerleader and constant reminder to take timeout for yourself.

 

“Is it really a reward when I’m going to beat all of you?”

 

Three sets of eyes narrow at Todoroki, taking the bait of his challenge. “I’m afraid you are mistaken,” Iida says as he adjusts his glasses. “I believe it is you who will be defeated.”

 

“Um, hello? I’m standing right here,” Uraraka says, pointing to herself with a cocky little smile. “The clear champion of kart racing.”

 

“We’ll see about that. Let’s order pizza and play at my place. Uraraka, you should invite Tsu, too.”

 

Izuku watches as those cute, chubby cheeks turn flush. “A-ah, um, y-y-yeah, of course!” It’s such a cruel tactic, to play the crush card, to set up that distraction so Uraraka ends up in last place, but listen, Mario Kart is a ruthless mistress and Izuku didn’t come here to make friends.

 

Shit. Kaminari’s so turned on by Izuku right now because damn, the cutie plays video games and is conniving as hell about it ! How is their neighbor Kirishima’s workout kink and Kaminari’s lust for game nights and pizza?

 

The group approaches the counter to pay for their game, but when they see Kaminari they all stop. Kaminari’s not sure how to address them beyond the scripted customer service greeting that Jirou belts out. He’s not sure why they all look so sad when they look at him, especially Izuku, who looks like a puppy who’s been kicked and left on the side of the road. Shouldn’t they be angry?

 

That’s when Kaminari realizes two things.

 

One: Izuku probably told his friends about what happened, because of course he did, why wouldn’t he? Kaminari imagines an intellectual bitch session with Iida condemning them to hell in the most scholarly way possible, followed by cold silence from Todoroki, and chipper bouts of profanity from Uraraka — don’t let the bubblegum personality fool you, girl could probably curse better than Bakugou. She plays Mario Kart. She could definitely go there.

 

Two: The one that Izuku and his friends would be mad at is Kirishima, not Kaminari. Because Kirishima’s the one who hit on Izuku. Kirishima’s the one who was intimate with him. To Izuku, Kaminari’s probably a victim in this, the unsuspecting boyfriend who was fast asleep while the two engaged in their sexual, post-morning jog antics.

 

Well then.

 

Kaminari can work with this.

 

“Izuku... can we talk?” Kaminari takes note of the sympathetic looks on the group’s faces — even Todoroki looks concerned. It’s a horrible tactic, Kaminari knows that, but he needs to use it to his advantage so he can make things right.

 

“A-ah, yes, of course!”

 

“Assuming I can take my break a bit early.”

 

Jirou waves a dismissive hand. She could probably send Kaminari home early, to be honest, but then she’d be bored on her own.

 

There’s not a lot of places to go and be alone and this conversation isn’t one that you want some kid in the food court to overhear. Kaminari can imagine the disapproving mother as the yellow haired disaster tries to explain to his neighbor that no, his boyfriend didn’t cheat on him, this is just a case of three poly dudes crushing on the same guy. Todoroki decides to do them a solid and gives Izuku the keys to his car before being dragged to the make-up store by Uraraka, Iida following after them.

 

So here they are.

 

Sitting in the backseat of Todoroki’s car.

 

Thankfully, it’s in the parking ramp, which gives some sense of privacy compared to being out in the open lot.

 

“Sorry... this must be pretty awkward,” Izuku says, and boy, oh boy, he has no idea. Kaminari’s trying to find the words but his mouth feels like he’s had an injection of novocaine. “Listen, I-I know I’m probably the last person you wanna talk to, but I swear, I had no idea that the two of you were dating!” Shit. Shit shit shit. Izuku’s rambling. He’s rambling and he’s gonna end up pulling further away from them. Him and his friends are gonna keep Kirishima on their list of dudes you should flip off and it’s gonna be Kaminari’s fault.

 

And they will never, ever, get that foursome.

 

Because of him.

 

This is his moment, his time to bring home a win for Team Poly. All he has to do is put together the right words and he can fix this. So he takes a deep breath, ready to represent his boyfriends, himself, and all the dudes out there who are trying to organize rambunctious orgies because a freckled face heartthrob lives next door. “Izuku, listen, um...”

 

“I really hope you’re breaking up with that guy. I’m never gonna talk to him again! He’s the worst! He’s awful! He’s-”

 

“He didn’t cheat on me!”

 

Izuku blinks, letting the words process, the pieces coming together before he responds to Kaminari. “Is... he not your boyfriend, then?”

 

Kaminari wishes he could say something more elegant, weave together some kind of story without revealing their master plan, but hey, lying isn’t his strongest character trait, and they say honesty is the best policy. “No, he is. Bakugou is, too.”

 

“... you... have two boyfriends?”

 

“Yeah. And we, well... we’re all attracted to you.”

 

Silence.

 

Kaminari expected that.

 

In the short time he’s known Izuku Midoriya he knows that he has to take time to let things settle in his mind before he formulates an opinion. He’s sitting there, eyebrows furrowed, and Kaminari knows that there’s some serious inner monologuing going on right now. It’s painfully cute, like everything else Izuku does.

 

“So Kirishima was... the first to... approach me?”

 

“Yeah, but he wasn’t supposed to! We had a plan!”

 

“A... a-a plan?!” Izuku looks like he’s struggling between being insulted and being intrigued. In the end, curiosity wins the day. “What... was this plan?”

 

“We were gonna take things slow, get to know you better and not make any kind of move until we talked it over, but Kirishima... well...”

 

“Ah. Well... it... wasn’t just him... I-I kinda... well...”

 

“Yeah, I know.” Don’t blush don’t blush don’t blush. “I saw you two kissing, but I said I wouldn’t say anything to Bakugou, because I’m a pretty good dude.” Smirk. Give him that killer smirk. “But then Bakugou said something about you calling him Kacchan?”

 

“O-oh!” And damn, those freckled cheeks are so pretty when there’s a blush peppered against them. “It... it kinda slipped out. He’s just so... I-I mean...”

 

“Oh yeah, you don’t gotta explain it. I’m dating him.”

 

“Right.”

 

“Wait a minute...” Kaminari tilts his head, suddenly not feeling nearly as nervous about the conversation, not when it’s about to go his way — hopefully. “So you’re attracted to Bakugou and Kirishima?”

 

“A-ah! What?! N-no, no no no, that’s not... no!”

 

“Dude. We’re poly and we all want you.”

 

There’s another stretch of silence, Izuku fidgeting next to Kaminari, Kaminari trying his best to look nonchalant when in reality his entire soul is screaming at him. “Ok!” Izuku finally speaks. He keeps his gaze steady but his hands are shaking as he admits the truth. “I’m attracted to them! And... a-and...”

 

Come on, universe. Do your boy Kaminari a solid and let Izuku finish that sentence. Please let him say what Kaminari thinks he’s about to say. He’s a pretty good guy, you know? Goes to work everyday, helps pay the bills and files his taxes when Bakugou reminds him to not wait until April. He doesn’t jaywalk, doesn’t snap at customers when he damn well should, doesn’t rat kids out for trying to steal and instead lets them off with a warning. Please, higher powers that be, let Denki Kaminari just have this one thing.

 

“... I... I think you’re cute, too.”

 

All right, so, maybe leaning in and kissing Izuku is a bit sudden. Maybe it’s the equivalent to the horny guy in the movies who’s never been in the same hemisphere as another attractive human being. But, see, here’s the thing — Izuku kisses him back, like he’s glad they’re in the backseat of a car so they can take full advantage of Kaminari’s break. Izuku’s making these noises against his lips, these little gasps like the time Kaminari’s cat went into heat, sensitive to any sort of touch and rubbing against everything in his parent’s house.

 

Not that Kaminari wants to stop, no, oh no. Izuku’s kisses are hotter than the chips Bakugou keeps stashed in the pantry, but, well... this isn’t their car.

 

“Hey. Uh. I-Izuku, we... o-oh...”

 

So Izuku’s in his lap now. Izuku’s in his lap and he’s kissing at his neck. He manages to find Kaminari’s weak spot, the one that Bakugou likes to exploit like a cheat code. “Oh yeah, that feels nice...” Kaminari whispers, bringing one of his hands up to run his fingers through Izuku’s hair. Shit, it’s so soft, and Kaminari swears that Izuku’s purring against his skin, clearly into the hair petting.

 

“Does it?” Izuku asks. Moans. Because everything coming out of his mouth right now sounds like it belongs on one of those websites that puts your virus protection to work.

 

“Uh huh.” Kaminari’s losing brain cells, losing the capacity to think, but he has to get this sentence out because they’re in the middle of a parking ramp in someone else’s car. “Um... t-this isn’t our car... y-your friends-”

 

“It’s fine,” Izuku whispers, hands massaging the wrinkles of his work shirt before he untucks it from his pants. “Not the first time someone’s done this in Todoroki’s car.”

 

Oh.

 

Is that so?

 

How exactly do Izuku and his friends spend time together? Are they just a bunch of grad student nerds who use video games for stress relief... or is there more to them? Not that it matters, because Izuku’s unzipping Kaminari’s pants, and hey, Kaminari’s no slouch, so he reaches down and undoes the button of Izuku’s shorts. And you know what? Shout out to living in a place where fall season is still warm enough to warrant shorts because, goodness me, Izuku in shorts is like a two-page spread in one of those magazines that Kaminari keeps on the bookshelf — yeah, no need to hide them under the mattress, Kirishima and Bakugou know what’s up. Feeling Izuku’s legs on either side of his body is a pretty kickass way to spend his break. Kaminari can’t help but move his hands along his thighs because damn, this is what Kirishima means by a good workout, huh? And there’s freckles there, too, bronzing his skin in cute little dots that Kaminari wants to sink his teeth into but-

 

“We don’t have much time, do we?” Izuku points out..

 

“Not really... but that kinda makes it hotter.” Not that Kaminari’s watching the time but he assumes that the clock is working against him.   

 

“Yeah, just let me...” then Izuku lifts his hips and manages to squirm out of his shorts within the confines of the car. Flexible little guy, Izuku is. Kaminari stores that knowledge in the back of his mind. “Your pants, you should-”

 

“Ah, yeah, I should...” struggle to get them off, curse under his breath because Izuku made it look so easy, then finally settle on getting them down enough to wrestle his dick out in anticipation. “There?”

 

Izuku smiles and slides closer to Kaminari, a startled little gasp tearing from his throat when he feels their hard cocks pressed against one another. Kaminari takes the hint and wraps his hand around the both of them, their moans combining to create a naughty soundtrack for their quick, messy encounter. Kaminari’s no stranger to this kind of PDA but Izuku is so vocal, his voice high pitched and molesting Kaminari’s ears as he jacks the both of them off. He can’t take his eyes off of Izuku, back arched in such an enticing angle, dressed in a U.A. hoodie and nothing else.

 

The car is so warm with the fog of sex, a humid, sticky feeling enveloping the two of them. Kaminari wishes he could say that he lasted a long time, like one of those love songs that waxes philosophically about going at it all night long. Instead, he’s panting out warnings of so close and holy fuck before the two of them really get a rhythm going.

 

“Me too,” Izuku whispers, and he’s way too kind, a lazy smile on his face as he says, “You feel so good, you’re gonna make me cum like this, Kaminari.”

 

It’s fine. The feeling’s mutual. It’s so mutual that Kaminari reaches his orgasm first, both hands gripping onto the seat as he lets himself go, riding out the waves of pleasure that leave him feeling completely wrecked. Izuku bites his bottom lip as he finishes himself off, and Kaminari’s torn between feeling embarrassed from climaxing too soon or staring in awe as the hot guy in his lap touches himself.

 

His penis definitely leans toward the latter.

 

As the two try to remember how to breathe Kaminari mentally tells himself that no, there’s no time for a repeat performance, even if he could definitely do this again. Izuku, who is clearly a mind reader, leans in and nips at the spot on his neck and whispers, “One more?”

 

Ah hell, it’s not like the store’s busy, right?

 

***

 

“Midoriya! Is everything all right?”

 

Izuku meets his friends at the mall food court, quietly hoping he’s washed his hands enough in the bathroom. The smell of the pink liquid soap is all over his fingers, his hands still damp even after using the air dryer. He’s fairly certain he remembered to button his shorts and his hair is messy by default, so he’s got that going for him.

 

“Ah. Yeah Iida, eveything’s fine,” he says as he sits with them. Uraraka’s indulging herself with a pretzel that he swears is bigger than her face while Iida and Todoroki enjoy the food court’s attempt at fried rice.

 

“So did you two talk?” Uraraka asks.

 

“Yeah... um... something like that...”

 

Todoroki raises an eyebrow, taking note the flustered look on Izuku’s face as he hands him back his keys. “Midoriya... what aren’t you telling us?”

 

All eyes are on Izuku now, who may have been an extremely willing participant in The Misadventures of The Lightning Haired Gamer Guy and The Backseat of Todoroki’s Car, but actually saying what happened out loud is a bit daunting. “Well... l-let me get something to drink, at least. Maybe a bite to eat.”

 

“Is it that serious?”

 

“Is he gonna breaking up with that asshole?”

 

“Does my car smell like sex?”

 

Both Iida and Uraraka stare at Todoroki, who just shrugs his shoulders and calmly points out how red in the face their friend is. Before Iida can stammer out the appropriate words to defend Izuku’s honor, their green companion slams his hands on the table and says, “You guys aren’t gonna believe this!”

Chapter Text

So.

 

Shouto Todoroki has a car.

 

A car that gets some incredible mileage.

 

That is and isn’t a euphemism.

 

The Todoroki name is infamous, particularly on campus because his dad is sort of, kind of, most definitely a big deal. He’s an alumni of the school, the kind that went on to run his own corporation, the kind that likes to throw money around because it’s the socially acceptable way to show off his dick. He’s got an entire lecture hall named after him because of his generous donations, the entire school always ready to drop to their knees and kiss his ass in the hopes of Enji Todoroki making it rain again.

 

Shouto may have a bit of a chip on his shoulder.

 

A chip that’s the size of a mountain.

 

Because Enji Todoroki don’t give no fucks about his family. This man’s got a bunch of kids and a wife he barely pays attention to. But Shouto? He loves little Shouto because he was valedictorian in high school and his college undergrad GPA was a well-polished 4.0. Shouto is the good son, you know? The one worth paying attention to. The one worth buying a crazy expensive car for as a gift when he got into grad school, because yeah, all the best for Shouto.

 

And that’s a legit reason, right? Enji’s just a nice guy. He’s not a conceited asshole who wants the entire campus to see his twenty-something-year-old son driving a car that costs more than their tuition. It’s not that he wants his ego inflated with comments about his generosity and pride, no, he wants you to bend over and take his ego from behind, then you can let out elicit moans about how prideful it is.

 

So Shouto’s been dealing with his father in a variety of ways.

 

The first idea he had was to go through a rebellious phase. Not too many folks know this but Shouto’s got an older brother out there, and if you think Enji neglected his other children then oof, let’s talk about this dude who runs a tattoo parlor. He goes by Dabi, and hidden under all those tats and piercings is a Todoroki who left home years ago, made a dramatic exit with fuck yous and destroyed family pictures. Shouto tracked him down and told him he wanted to do something crazy — not as crazy as tattooing yourself to look like a burn victim with your skin stapled together, much to Dabi’s disappointment, because Shouto would look real nice with, at least, a sleeve.

 

Whatever. Dabi’s a man of many talents, including hair dyeing and, well, he had to admit the half and half thing did stand out.

 

The two keep in touch and Shouto visits whenever he needs a quick re-dye. Dabi talks about coming back home sometimes, but he wants to make an entrance to really piss Enji off. Eventually, he does talk Shouto into getting a tattoo — one on his face, over his eye. It enrages Enji because he knows what Dabi does for a living. It’s the best day of Shouto’s life.

 

Then the fucker got him a car.

 

Which led to idea number two, an idea he sticks with to this day — fuck the car up.

 

Drive your friends around, let them eat all kinds of snacks, hell, let them use the backseat like a cheap motel on Prom night. Of course, get in on the action whenever. Grad school is stressful and orgasms leave you feeling like a weight has been lifted from your chest. Iida’s the first, surprisingly, because he’s wound up so tight that it’s impressive that he can even walk in a straight line. To be fair, Shouto had been joking when he said that Iida needed to get laid, but Iida had been so exhausted that he laughed instead of giving a stern lecture of sexual practices in motor vehicles, you know, cuz how dare Shouto disgrace the cows who were sacrificed to make the leather interior.

 

So yeah, Tenya Iida had unintentionally set the stage, had spread his legs so dutifully, cheeks flustered and pretty as Shouto jerked the stress right out of him.

 

A few days later and Izuku Midoriya’s in the backseat. Yep. That Izuku Midoriya, the one who’d been surprised about his neighbors being proud members of Team Poly. Here’s the kicker: Izuku’s the one who gets spread out across the backseat the most. He’s the stupidly attractive glue that holds them all together, the one they all share a mutual affection for. Shouto gets first dibs because, well, it’s his car and fuck if he’s missing a chance to see that Happy Funtime freckled face contort into something x-rated. But in comes Ochako Uraraka, who puts up one hell of a fight, even pulls the I’ve known him longer card. People often assumed they were dating anyway — flustered chemistry does wonders to the rumor mill, you know.

 

Shouto admired her spirit.

 

Which is why she got to have Izuku second.

 

And yeah, let’s take a minute to talk about Izuku Fucking Midoriya. Nice guy extraordinaire, the one who lends out his notes and holds the door open for everyone. To know Izuku Midoriya is to know what it feels like to fall in love because yeah, he’s stealing your heart and the little fucker ain’t giving it back.

 

He makes up for it in spades if he likes you. Like... really likes you . And he really, truly does love his circle of friends.

 

And he really, truly, is a sexual little kitty cat who takes Shouto’s dick and tells him to put it in him. He even gets him all lubed up — see, what a nice guy. He does it because he’s nice, not because Shouto’s brain short circuits.

 

Ochako’s known Deku for longer than any of them and she can’t believe it when Shouto comes to her and Iida with the most self-satisfied smirk on his face. He also passes the exam he’d been stressed out about, does so well that the three paragraphs he wrote for extra credit gets him a score that goes beyond.

 

It’s fine because Ochako sits on Izuku’s face that night — exam in the morning, Deku, tongue fuck the stress away. Izuku blushes the whole goddamn time because, gah, not-so-secret lady crush, and wow, Ochako’s so soft and smells like warm thoughts and Starbucks. He tells her that, too. Compliments her big ol’ brown eyes and praises the shape of her body before she settles her thighs on the sides of his flustered, eager little face.

 

Phew, the boy can boost your self-esteem, for sure. Ochako has one of those I saw God orgasms, and oh, she kicked that exam in the ass, walked into the room feeling weightless, was the first to be done with the test.

 

Izuku Midoriya’s out here changing lives, y’all.

 

Iida is quick to claim the backseat after that — so stressed, exams, whatever. Iida doesn’t want to use religion in his discussions of intercourse, but holy Jesus buckets, Izuku, put a warning label on those lips, yeah? He deep throats Iida like a vacuum, ass wiggling around as Iida fingers him. Iida would love to say that he was slow and careful with Izuku, but he’s not a liar, and Izuku is clearly the centerfold in the magazines you bury in your sock drawer. He does, at least, apologize for exploding like an egg in a microwave. Izuku just giggles, says he likes it, licks his lips and, wow, Iida approves.

 

The matchups after that are jumbled, at best, but no one seems to mind. They’ve already got enough on their plates with exams, studying, and — oh god, it’s all leading up to a thesis isn’t it?! Some days they get creative and organize groups of three, bodies haphazardly coming together like Tetris pieces. There’s not much that can be done in the space with those many hands and desperate lips, but the horny powers that be have made Izuku and Ochako pocket-sized so they can both tend to Shouto or Iida — whoever’s in the mood.

 

And the car witnesses it all, just as Shouto had planned. Take that, you piece of shit dad, because I’m having sex and eating Fritos in your stupid hunk of machinery.

 

But lately, things have been settling down. Ochako’s crushing on Tsu — the cute, somewhat awkward girl in her class. She always has to have a frog on something, treating it like a fashion accessory that belongs on a piece of clothing or on her purse. All it had taken was one group project to send her heart into the clouds. They all knew it was serious because when Shouto mentioned bringing her into the car little miss Deku should be with me first turned so red that Izuku’s shoes got jealous.

 

But Ochako ain’t the only one, because overtime Iida starts to make Shouto’s heart feel funny. Back when he stopped running track because of his brother’s injury Shouto was there for him, like, really there, like talking to him every day and socializing more than he ever had.

 

So their wild adventures of grad school stresses me out let’s fuck are kinda simmering to a low boil, but hey, that doesn’t mean Shouto can’t loan out his keys to a certain green haired friend and his next door neighbor, right? It’s interesting, though, since they’d all thought that the redhead had been the one to peak Izuku’s interests.

 

Ok. Actually. They know who caught Izuku’s eye first.

 

Katsuki Bakugou.

 

And yeah, Shouto may have stirred the pot a bit with that one, partially because dudes like that look good when they’re riled up, and partially because he’s the blunt asshole of their friend group.

 

But then Izuku ended up with Kirishima. Whatever, sometimes a cute redhead’s dick ends up in your mouth, you know?

 

But then it was revealed that Kaminari was Kirishima’s boyfriend. Ouch. Guess that redhead’s into adultery.

 

But like a plot twist in that rom-com you found in the clearance bin, it turns out that, surprise, this was all planned!

 

Kinda.

 

“So... they all wanna sleep with you?” Ochako asks, sipping on a fruit smoothie as Shouto drives the group to Izuku’s place. She’s sitting in the back with Izuku who, like a true friend and expert in sexual car encounters, had cracked the windows so it didn’t smell too much like sweat and rushed orgasms.

 

“Yeah,” Izuku says, munching on a couple of french fries from the burger place in the mall. “So Kirishima didn’t cheat on anyone, he just... jumped the gun.”

 

“Fascinating.” Iida adjusts his glasses, sitting in the passenger seat because him and Shouto have to be close to each other whenever possible. “What are the odds of you finding another polyamorous group?”

 

“And they’re all attractive, too!”

 

“Uraraka, there’s more to this then levels of attraction,” Iida says, taking the stern tone of voice that they’ve all grown accustomed to. Ochako responds by leaning forward and nipping at his ear, saying something about him needing to loosen up — as always. He bats her away but he’s smiling, and his smile makes a small, sweet smile spread across Shouto’s face as he drives.

 

“This. This is what I mean.” Izuku gestures toward his friends. “The four of us are so close, not just sexually. And you all are even finding new kinds of relationships outside of this.”

 

“You realize that there’s a possibility of you doing the same with your neighbors, right?” Shouto glances back at Midoriya now that they’re at a red light. “Maybe they’re your relationship outside of us.”

 

“What if they’re not, though?” Izuku bites into another fry, brows creased in concern as he mentally contemplates the probability of finding a poly group that’s ok with him having this sort of intimacy with his friends.

 

“Midoriya, I’m sure that’s the reason why they tried to come up with a plan and take their time. Even if they deviated from it, an attempt was made.” Ah good ol’ Tenya Iida, always sounding wise beyond his years no matter what the topic was.

 

“Think of it like this, Deku,” Ochako says as she steals a fry out of his bag. “If they end up being more than a hookup, then yay, that’s awesome! If they are just a hookup, then you have fun for one night and have us to come back to. We’re not going anywhere, you know.”

 

Izuku frowns at her. “I offered to get you your own order of fries.”

 

“I know! But yours taste better,” then she happily eats the fry and reaches for another. The nerve of this adorable ball of girl. Stealing a guy’s fries and eating them right in his face.

 

“She’s right.” The light turns green and Shouto honks the horn at the car in front of him for not pulling ahead fast enough. What? It’s not road rage if he’s in the right.

 

“About the fries?” Iida asks, making an attempt at humor.

 

Shouto chuckles. It’s not funny, not really, but Iida looks so proud of himself for the comment. “No, about us always being here, about going for it. Nothing says you have to make your time with the three of them into a relationship, Midoriya. You can just play it by ear.”

 

“You want me to not make a plan?!” Red alert. Izuku’s mind is in crisis mode.

 

“All right, wrong choice of words,” Ochako sighs, taking another sip of her smoothie. “How about you just take it one step at a time?”

 

“... ok I can do that.” Izuku pulls his fries away when he sees that small, cute hand drifting toward them again. “So does that mean you’re gonna go for it with Tsu?”

 

“T-t-this isn’t about me!”

 

Izuku and Iida’s laughter fills the car, the rest of the drive divulging into friendly chatter about the upcoming video game marathon and how Shouto has no problem going to pick Tsu up if Ochako wants him to.

 

The girl’s cheeks are pink like cotton candy for the rest of the trip.

 


 

When Shouto pulls into Izuku’s driveway they catch a glimpse of Bakugou, whose stepping outside of his house to... who cares, really, because he’s wearing a black tank top with a pair of loose fitting pants. That may not sound like a big deal because it’s just a tank top, but listen, this is Katsuki Bakugou in a tank top, muscled arms on display like a personalized gift to the little Deku who stares from the backseat.

 

“You should go say hi,” Shouto says as he turns the car off.

 

“Really? You’re not gonna do anything to piss him off?”

 

“No, I will, but you should still say hi.”

 

Izuku tries not to laugh at how ridiculous his friend is, but the smile on his face comes without his permission. He steps out of the car and takes a deep breath. This shouldn’t be that hard, not when Kaminari’s told him the truth, but for some reason his heart is hammering against his chest to the point that he thinks he might actually pass out. Before, he’d just give Bakugou a friendly greeting, but now? Now he knows that Bakugou wants him, that all of them want him, and well, he’s been intimate with two of his neighbors which leaves...

 

“Oi. Deku. Why are you staring at me?”

 

Oh. It seems that he’s made the trek next door in the middle of his inner monologue of self-doubt. It also seems that Bakugou has taken to calling him Deku the way his friends do — namely Ochako. He supposes that’s fair since he accidentally called him Kacchan before. “I... um... just came to say hello!”

 

“Hi.”

 

Silence.

 

Great.

 

Bakugou’s still watching him, though, waiting for him to say something. He doesn’t seem like the type to stick around unless he wants to, so Izuku really needs to say something before- “Look, about the whole Kirishima thing...”

 

Or Bakugou can speak up, that works too.

 

“Listen, it’s not what you think, and I know that sounds like some shitty ass excuse but-”

 

“No, it’s fine, I know it’s not,” Izuku says. It’s sweet that Bakugou cares enough to be concerned. “Kaminari talked to me today.”

 

“Shit, what did that fuckhead say?!”

 

Wow. Ok. Not the reaction Izuku was expecting. “Nothing bad, honest! He just... cleared some things up,” and he hopes he doesn’t have to go into more detail than that. He hopes the words cleared up convey the fact that he knows that the three of them are-

 

“Is that all he did?” There’s a smirk on Bakugou’s face now, and Izuku suddenly remembers his mother telling him stories about big bad wolves pursuing young, unsuspecting victims. Well, at least Bakugou got the hint, but Izuku hadn’t expected it to lead to this so quickly.

 

Then again, he’s been waiting, hasn’t he?

 

“Well... there may have been... more to our conversation...”

 

Bakugou leans in close. Real close. Close enough to smell the shower gel he uses — mountain breeze. Nice. But there’s something else, like the smell of burning wood, of fire and the smoke that drifts into the air. “Is that so, Deku?”

 

Huh. That’s a sultry look Bakugou’s got there. Don’t faint, Izuku. “U-um, it-”

 

HONK!

 

HONK HONK!

 

Izuku whirls around to see that his friends are now standing outside the car, Shouto grinning at the two of them as he shouts, “Midoriya! You need to come unlock your door so we can game!”

 

Right.

 

Asshole friend of the group.

 

Bakugou growls, and really, it shouldn’t turn Izuku on because it sounds lethal, like he’s ready to go to jail for the vicious murder of one Shouto Todoroki. “B-be right there,” Izuku yells back, then, “Sorry about that. It’s just... w-we made plans, so-”

 

“Invite me over.”

 

“What?”

 

“You nerds are gaming tonight? Invite me over.”

 

It’s not a request, Izuku realizes, because Katsuki Bakugou doesn’t ask — he tells you what’s gonna go down. “Ah, right, l-let me just make sure they’re ok with it.” When Izuku turns to head back to his house he feels a swift smack against his backside. He barely manages to hold in the shriek, entire face burning crimson as he focuses his attention back on Bakugou. “What the hell was that for?!”

 

“Sorry.” He’s not. “Did I hurt you?” Bakugou reaches down and cups Izuku’s ass, pulling him tight against his body. The noise Bakugou makes is too erotic, too enticing, the sound of a man who’s finally getting a drink of water after combing through the desert — the water being Izuku Midoriya’s soft, round ass.

 

Izuku wonders why he’s so flustered when he already knows what his neighbors have in store for him, and look, it’s not like he’s new to being fondled. He’s got three pretty attentive friends, thank you very much, and he rendered two out of three members of Team Poly into a state of orgasmic bliss. So there’s no reason why Bakugou’s hand gently kneading his ass should make his legs feel weak.

 

Nope.

 

Not at all.

 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” Bakugou breathes into his ear. “I have plans for this,” then he gives Izuku’s ass a firm squeeze. “This is gonna be mine tonight.”

 

Hi.

 

Um.

 

Izuku Midoriya may have just forgotten his own name.

 

“Deku, come on!”

 

Ah, there it is. Thanks Ochako.

 

Izuku manages to squirm out of Bakugou’s grip and scurries across the yard to go back to his house. He glances back at him, the look in his eyes clearly telling him to follow. “K-Kacchan’s gonna be joining us,” he says as he unlocks the front door.

 

Ochako grins around the straw of her drink and Bakugou can’t help but smirk back. He likes when people are honest, and Ochako knows what’s gonna happen as soon as Bakugou gets inside.

 

“‘Sup?” Bakugou says to the group.

 

“Hi!” Ochako.

 

“Hello.” Iida.

 

“...” Shouto.

 

As soon as Izuku pushes the door open he grabs Bakugou’s hand and leads him upstairs to the bedroom. Bakugou smirks back at Shouto, always one to hold a grudge, and Shouto keeps that poker face on until they all hear the bedroom door slam shut. “Well that was entertaining,” he says.

 

“You’re the worst, Todoroki,” Iida says with a laugh.

 

“Yeah, but that’s what you like about me.”

 


 

Here lies Izuku Midoriya.

 

Cause of death: Katsuki Bakugou.

 

Such a shame for one to die so young. Bury him with his collectibles. Tell his mother he loved her. Tell his friends to put his house up for sale.

 

Bakugou’s laying back on Izuku’s bed like he owns it, like he was the one who put the frame together and lugged the mattress upstairs. His pants are bunched up around his ankles, penis hard and ready to play inside of Izuku’s mouth. And Izuku wants to, he absolutely wants to, but there’s hot, greedy hands worshipping his ass like it deserves to be displayed at the altar of a church.

 

Izuku knows the mechanics of the six and the nine, but being left in his shirt and nerdtastic socks while Bakugou keeps squeezing, moaning, scratching...

 

Izuku’s having a bit of a hard time right now.

 

Ha ha. Hard.

 

Also, don’t make fun of his socks, superheroes kick ass. His room is lined with posters because in his heart he’s always a fifteen-year-old ready for the next midnight launch.

 

“Fuck your ass is amazing,” Bakugou says, kissing it, actually kissing it , before he sinks his teeth into a cheek like a teacher hungry for the apple on their desk.

 

Izuku tries to respond but he ends up letting out a sound that’s made for late night cable television — do people still watch porn that way? Isn’t it all online? Whatever the case, it’s a moan worthy of hearing again, so Bakugou spreads his ass cheeks and runs his tongue inside the crack.

 

Oh.

 

Now that’s a moan right there, Izuku — dirty and wet, bordering right on the edge of being a sob.

 

Izuku manages to slip his tongue out and lap at the top of Bakugou’s cock. “Mmmm,” fuck, don’t sound like that, don’t- “Let me feel that mouth of yours, Deku.” Holy hell, that raspy Bakugou voice, like the guy you make out with in an alley during a thunderstorm, the guy your mama warns you about but she already knows you’re spreading your legs tonight. Izuku gives Bakugou’s dick a slow, long lick before he pops the tip into his mouth like a treat on Halloween. “Fuuuuuck Deku,” and Izuku thinks he’s got it, thinks he’s in control of the situation.

 

Then Bakugou darts the tip of his tongue into Izuku’s hole.

 

Repeatedly.

 

And feels the need to narrate. “So tight, fuck, gonna enjoy loosening you up, Deku.”

 

Izuku lets out a strangled cry and forgets — again — that he’s supposed to be participating in this whole sixty-nine thing. But he’s kinda losing his mind, panting and squirming as he feels Bakugou fucking him with his tongue, hands gripping onto Izuku’s ass like a life preserver in the middle of the ocean.

 

There’s a lot of things killing Izuku right now. The feeling of being penetrated in such a way is at the top of the list followed by the sounds Bakugou’s making because, really, does he have to be so loud about it? The low, heavy breathing. The slick noises of his tongue inside of him. Izuku feels like his friends can hear them even if they’re downstairs lobbing turtle shells at each other while trying to take first place in Mario Kart.

 

It’s embarrassing.

 

And it feels so goddamn good.

 

“Are you just gonna have a staring contest with my dick or do something with it?”

 

So rude, Bakugou, fuck, how is that a turn on, too?

 

Izuku closes his eyes, lashes damp because his eyes are watering and his levels of desire are through the roof. He parts his lips and lowers his head, slowly taking Bakugou into his mouth. His senses are kicked into overdrive, the smell and the taste making his heart race in an erratic rhythm. This isn’t like the time with Kirishima, the two of them high off the morning jog and the tang of sweat from working out. This isn’t even like the time with Kaminari which, in hindsight, was only a few hours ago. That had been a mix of amazement — all three of you want me? — relief — thank goodness we cleared that all up — and pure curiosity of what neighbor number two felt like.

 

But this? This is something more primal, more basic, because the two of them had been checking each other out since Izuku moved in.

 

“Shit you’re good at that,” Bakugou says, and it’s such a sweet, willowy sound, the exact opposite of his personality. “You like it when I tell you how good you feel?”

 

All Izuku can do is groan out an answer, focused on bobbing his head up and down, taking in as much of Bakugou as he can.

 

“Such a good boy, Deku,” then the sexy fucker has the nerve to circle a finger around Izuku’s entrance. “Should I go back to what I was doing... or should I prepare you for more?”

 

Look. Izuku’s trying his best to concentrate, trying to give his all with this here blowjob, but now he has to deal with a sudden spam of images where Bakugou’s making the bed squeak too much because he’s busy fucking him into the mattress.

 

“I need an answer, Deku.”

 

“N-nightstand,” Izuku manages to say, mouth sorely missing the hardness that’d been inside of it. “Let me-”

 

“Naw, I got it.”

 

“W-wait, but-”

 

Ladies and gentlemen: Izuku Midoriya’s nightstand. It’s like a drawer sized toy store full of things that vibrate, pinch, and restain you into the wee hours of the morning. Bakugou doesn’t care about any of that because, come on, he’s got two horny boyfriends who randomly come up with some new thing to try. What he does care about is how organized the space is, things separated by type of toy, methods of protection, and cleaning sprays which, “Ah, thank fuck you’re smart enough to have that.”

 

“Doesn’t everybody?”

 

“Have you met Denki Kaminari?”

 

“I have... wait, he doesn’t clean his-”

 

“He does now ... fucking idiot,” Bakugou mutters.

 

Izuku giggles, and it causes a chain reaction where Bakugou chuckles along with him. It’s an oddly comfortable feeling, sharing a laugh before they continue with their bedroom antics. They’d been so anxious to get to the good part that they hadn’t taken a break to get to, well, this good part — the moments in-between, the calm before the storm, as they say.

 

So now they’re sitting together on the bed, cocks stiff and standing at full attention, smiling at each other like this is the first time they’ve really taken each other in. Bakugou’s got such a handsome smile and, upon closer inspection, a set of dimples that Izuku’s sure no one but his boyfriends know about. Bakugou leans in and rests his forehead against Izuku’s, not kissing him, not yet. Instead, he just looks into his eyes, Izuku looking right back at him, and it suddenly feels like the entire world is holding its breath for the two of them.

 

“Wanna kiss you.” Bakugou takes Izuku’s chin in his hand and brushes his thumb against his cheek. “Right here,” he says, pressing his lips against a set of freckles. “And here.” He follows a trail of freckles down to Izuku’s neck, then back up to the edge of his lips.

 

“Here,” Izuku whispers, planting a whisper of a kiss on Bakugou’s lips. “Kiss me here, Kacchan.”

 

And he does.

 

And it feels like every pleasant dream Izuku’s ever had.

 

Katsuki Bakugou isn’t known for being soft. He’s all hard edges, the match and the explosive device that threatens to wreck your entire being. But his lips remind Izuku of freshly dried sheets, of that favorite pillow you can’t live without.

 

If there is a Cloud Nine then this is, most definitely, it.

 

Izuku doesn’t know when he gets lowered onto the bed, but he is aware of the slow, lubricated fingers inside of him. He’s aware of how easily he spreads his legs apart, how Bakugou touches that spot deep inside that makes him break their kiss and mutter his name in a repeated mantra. And as much as Bakugou likes the way his name sounds coming from Izuku’s full, wet lips, he’d rather kiss him into oblivion.

 

“Deku.” Kiss.

 

“Izuku.” Another kiss.

 

“So good.” One more.

 

“Open your mouth.” And Izuku does, parts his lips and feels his entire body heat up when that tongue goes inside like it belongs there.

 

The rest of it gets a bit hazy, lost somewhere in between the sheets and the ongoing kisses. Izuku remembers the sound of the condom wrapper and the initial feel of Bakugou pressed against him. If you ask him, Izuku will tell you that it feels like that first drop on a rollercoaster, when the wind gets knocked out of you and the adrenaline feels like some sort of illegal substance you shouldn’t have access to. Everything else after that is lost in a haze, reduced to the bare necessities of yes and good and more.

 

So here lies Izuku Midoriya.

 

With Katsuki Bakugou buried deep inside of him.

 


 

Kirishima feels world’s better after working with a handful of clients all day, to the point that he brings home dinner, hoping to offer it as some sort of apology. While he isn’t happy with Kaminari he feels bad for being so cross with him.

 

Of course he does, because he’s Eirijo Kirishima.

 

He’s surprised to find the house empty when he steps inside. Bakugou should definitely be here, at least. He’s not one to leave the house unless if it’s absolutely necessary.

 

“Hey.”

 

Kirishima recognizes that hesitant voice. Kaminari’s home and has a look akin to a kid who smashed a baseball into a cranky old man’s window. “Hey,” Kirishima says. “Listen, I-”

 

“No, me first. I just-”

 

“I wanna say-”

 

“I need to tell you that-”

 

All together now:

 

“I’m sorry!”

 

“I got a handjob from Izuku!”

 

It’s an old-fashion showdown after that, both of them staring each other down as their words sink in.

 

“Whoa... you got what?!”

 

Kaminari breaks into a nervous fit of giggles. “So... um... y-you’re sorry, huh?” He really should’ve let Kirishima talk first.

 

“Yo, idiots.”

 

If slow motion were an actual, real-life possibility, now would be the time for it. Because the last thing Kirishima and Kaminari expect is to see Bakugou standing in the doorway with Izuku Midoriya standing with him.

 

“Hi! Um... I think, maybe, we should talk.”

Chapter Text

So.

 

This isn’t exactly what any of them had in mind for dinner.

 

That’s not innuendo. Not yet. They think?

 

Normally, Bakugou would tell you that this has all been a part of his plan — ha ha, Kirishima. Normally he’d say that he planned on seducing Deku last, proclaim that he’s the only one who’d be able to get him completely on board for this upcoming polyamorous adventure.

 

But, well, Bakugou’s in a good mood because he got to fuck Deku in his bedroom while his friends played Mario Kart.

 

Yeah, that’s the only reason he’s not bragging right now. It’s certainly not because he has no clue how to start this conversation.

 

All right, that may have something to do with it. Maybe. Damn Izuku Midoriya makes him weak.

 

Izuku Midoriya, who’s sitting at their kitchen table, looking adorably perplexed as to how to broach the subject even if he’s the one who said they needed to talk. There’s a bucket of fried chicken on the table courtesy of Kirishima but no one feels like eating. Izuku spares a glance over to Kaminari, who’s trying to figure out how this guy managed to give him a handjob in his friend’s car, go home, enjoy Bakugou, then stroll into their kitchen to discuss a potential foursome — you know, whenever someone talked.

 

Bless Eijiro Kirishima, always charismatic and capable of wording even in the most awkward situations. “Anyone want anything to drink?” Such a simple question, but it does, at least, break the silence.

 

“Ah, um, sure, thank you.” Izuku.

 

“Sounds great, man, thanks!” Kaminari.

 

“... yeah.” Bakugou.

 

So Kirishima goes to the fridge and lets the cool air calm him down. He’d come home expecting a simple conversation, but apparently it’s time for the final boss — or something like that, ugh, video game analogies are more Kaminari’s area of expertise. Now he’s rattling off drink names like that tangy juice commercial, mentally trying to come up with what he should say next. Do they just dive right into it? Doesn’t there need to be some sort of preparation? Some kind of build-up beyond them each having a turn with their neighbor?

 

Wait.

 

Are they all gonna do it right now?!

 

“Did you want help with the drinks?” Izuku asks.

 

“Ah! Naw man, I’m good!” So good. Totally good. Beyond good. “Thanks though!”

 

“I’m making you all nervous. Maybe we should do this another time-”

 

“No!” Jeez Kaminari, calm down. “We should talk. We should definitely talk. So we can... you know...”

 

“Fuck?” Good ol’ Bakugou, always as blunt as the tip of a bat. “That is the end goal, right?”

 

“Well...” Izuku fidgets in his seat, remembering the conversation with his friends. “Yes, theoretically speaking, but...”

 

But? There’s a but now? Kirishima forgets his quest for drinks while both Kaminari and Bakugou sit in suspense, waiting for Izuku to finish his sentence. Well. Bakugou’s not anxious — ok he is, shut up about it already.

 

“... I mean, if you just wanna have sex that’s fine, but I was hoping to get to know the three of you. It’s a bit more comfortable that way.”

 

“You make it sound like you have experience,” Kaminari blurts out, because he’s a master of not thinking before he speaks. “Which is cool, by the way! Not saying anything bad about it!”

 

“Nice save, Sparky ,” Bakugou mutters, because he’s a master of remembering every dumb thing his boyfriends do , like the time Kaminari tried to microwave a can of soup — that was years ago, by the way, Bakugou just can’t let shit go.

 

“Actually I do have experience,” because Izuku’s not ashamed of it.

 

“Wait... with multiple partners?!” Kirishima doesn’t mean to sound so taken aback. Honestly, it’s probably for the best that Izuku’s not new at this. Now there’s less to explain about the whole poly thing.

 

“Yeah. With Todoroki and the others.”

 

“Oh THAT’S what you meant about the car comment.” Kaminari sounds like he’s just made the discovery of a lifetime while Bakugou and Kirishima are left to wonder what the car comment is. Kaminari doesn’t share, though. He keeps it to himself. “Wait, so... are they gonna mind that you-”

 

“Did you really sleep with Peppermint Patty?” Because Bakugou refuses to let Todoroki live that red and white peppermint hair down.

 

“Kacchan!”

 

“What?” Bakugou leans back in his chair and shrugs. “Just a question.”

 

“Is that why he was so...”

 

“Assholish?” Bakugou’s great at finishing Kirishima’s sentences.

 

Izuku frowns a little, and Bakugou wants to take it seriously, because he’s trying to organize a foursome with his best boyfriends and the hottie next door... but Deku frowning is like a pissed off bunny wrinkling its nose at you, and really, it’s the cutest thing Bakugou’s ever seen.

 

“Todoroki’s not that bad.” Izuku’s lying through his pretty little lips. Todoroki’s awful , but these guys don’t get to talk shit about his friend. They aren’t close to him enough — at all — to be throwing around casual remarks like asshole . Izuku does considering putting Peppermint Patty in his arsenal though. “And to answer your earlier question no, they don’t mind. They know about my attraction to the three of you.”

 

“I hope so cuz we totally did it in that dude’s car.”

 

“You did what?” This is news to Bakugou.

 

“In the car?!” And the location is news to Kirishima.

 

“Yep.” Kaminari tries his best not to look smug but he can’t control his tone of voice at all. “And it was hot . In fact, I’m the one who fixed the whole affair mess.”

 

“YOU STARTED IT!” The shout comes from everyone — Izuku included.

 

“Can we get back on the subject?” Kaminari, desperate for a change of topic. “You wanna get to know us? Really?”

 

“Is that... bad?”

 

“Naw man, it’s great,” then Kirishima slaps a hand on his shoulder. “I mean I know we all kinda defaulted into sex but generally we don’t do that, you know? You’re just... really damn attractive. You’re the first person we’ve ever done this sort of thing with.”

 

“Give us more credit than that, we didn’t default into sex, we did actually talk to him beforehand.”

 

“Kacchan’s right. If it were just sex we would’ve done it the first day we all met.”

 

Everyone nods in agreement. Everyone also has to deal with the smug look on Bakugou’s face.

 

“So then... what should we do?” Kaminari asks.

 

“That part is easy,” then Izuku smiles at the three of them, offering them a taste of sunshine that has them all staring, dumbfounded, because how can a smile make your heart feel like it’s going to leap out of your chest and offer itself on a silver platter? “Will you go out with me?”

 

It’s so endearing that Bakugou can’t muster up any kind of snarky response, his cheeks gaining a light dusting of pink that he’ll completely deny if you have the nerve to ask about it. A moment ago he’d been in Izuku’s bedroom, dick so deep inside of him that he reduced him to speaking complimentary gibberish. Now? He feels himself submitting to whatever this Deku guy wants, nodding in agreement with whatever he says.

 

Kaminari and Kirishima are in the same far gone boat.

 

“Excellent!” Izuku beams at them, and wow, some folks tug at heartstrings while others yank at them with a force that leaves you breathless. “I should head back home, my friends are waiting, but we’ll talk soon, ok?”

 

“Yeah.” Kirishima.

 

“S-sure.” Kaminari.

 

“...” Bakugou. Of course.

 

Izuku stands up and heads for the door, his three neighbors following after like they don’t know what to do with themselves. Izuku looks back at them, head cocked to the side, eyes contemplative as he studies each of them.

 

They remain silent. Uncertain about what they should do or what’s about to happen.

 

Without warning — cuz where’s the fun in that? — Izuku practically bounces over to Kirishima and jumps into his arms, the redhead working on pure instinct and easily catching him. Then suddenly they’re kissing, lips pressed together in front of Bakugou and Kaminari. If it were possible Kaminari’s jaw would hit the floor but as it stands his mouth just hangs open. Bakugou’s not faring much better, especially since Kirishima had given him a detailed account of his encounter with Izuku and now he’s watching it, live, in high definition with a sound system that plays each moan like a symphony. Kirishima’s arms are around Izuku’s waist, holding him securely, the strength of his embrace making Izuku melt on impact. Kirishima’s so strong and there’s something so sensual about the contrast of muscles and tender lips.

 

But Izuku can’t let himself get swept away. Not yet.

 

So he breaks the kiss and eyes Kaminari, who responds by pointing a finger at himself and asking, “Me?”

 

“Yeah. You,” Izuku says, still reeling from Kirishima, especially since he’s still holding him.

 

Like an obedient pup Kaminari is by Izuku’s side, kissing him, enjoying the sound Kirishima makes since he’s got a front row seat. Kaminari’s kisses are full of excitement, like a rock concert on an endless loop. Kirishima knows what Izuku’s feeling, can tell from the way he’s unconsciously started to grind his hips against his, sinking into the dance. Kirishima throws a smirk toward Bakugou who takes the hint and joins them, pressing himself against Izuku from behind. It doesn’t interrupt the kiss, if anything, it makes it more intense, because Bakugou’s breathing against the back of his neck while Kirishima has taken to nipping at his ear.

 

Kaminari lets Izuku catch his breath but Bakugou isn’t that nice of a guy. He takes hold of Izuku’s hair and gives it a firm, but gentle tug, his head falling back so Bakugou can dip his tongue into his mouth. Kirishima grabs the back of Kaminari’s head and crushes their lips together, deciding that he’s way too turned on right now to not be kissing someone. The four of them are a mess yet somehow still organized, kissing, changing up the combinations. It’s addictive, and leaves them all feeling high on each other.

 

It takes all of Izuku’s willpower to break away, to not just say fuck it and let these three have their way with him. The only thing stopping him from, frankly, begging for dick, is the anticipation of what it’ll feel like if they don’t rush this.

 

So he says a soft, breathless, “I’ll talk to you later,” then is out the door.

 

“Holy.” Kirishima.

 

“Shit.” Kaminari.

 

“Bedroom. Both of you. Now.” Fucking Bakugou.

 

It’s fine, because when Izuku steps back into his house he’s climbing into Shouto’s lap, interrupting his race, and kissing him like making out is going out of style. Ochako cheers like a hyper fangirl who’s seeing her favorite couple go at it, and Tenya-

 

“It looks like I win,” he says, crossing into first place while everyone else is distracted.

 

“Are you serious?!” Ochako takes her controller and playfully hits Tenya with it. “How is that fair?!”

 

“It’s not my fault you all were distracted,” Tenya says, adjusting his glasses.

 

“Next time, climb into Tenya’s lap,” Shouto mutters.

 


 

Out of the three of them Kirishima has a head start on getting to know your Deku since him and Izuku both have shared interests in morning jogs and working out in general. It’s a way to connect, a way to get to know each other.

 

A way to make use of Kirishima’s shower while Bakugou and Kaminari are asleep, taking advantage of the extra space because Team Poly made sure they got a house with killer bathroom space.

 

In Izuku’s defense, he’d actually planned on going back to his own place after they’d finished running through the neighborhood, but Kirishima suggested it, and Izuku has a weakness for everything the redhead has to offer, apparently.

 

So they’re kissing underneath the steady beat of water, hair clinging to their foreheads, bodies wet and pressed against each other. And it’s not that they plan on being intimate every time they work up a sweat together, it’s just the way things end up working out. Izuku looks good when he’s hunched over, legs feeling the burn, breaths heavy from keeping up with Kirishima’s pace. And Kirishima looks good, well, period , and it’s especially true when he’s beaming over keeping in shape. Maybe someday one of them will be able to suggest a shower without it leading to hot, sloppy kisses, but today isn’t the day.

 

“Morning.” Yawn. Stretch. Kaminari rubs his eyes with the back of his hand as he attempts to stumble over to the toilet. “I’ll just be... whoa...” and well, now he’s wide awake.

 

“M-morning Kaminari...” Izuku blushes, feeling like he just got caught committing a crime.

 

Kirishima, on the other hand, has a smirk on his face, a grin so wide that it resembles that cat from Wonderland.

 

Normally, Kaminari thinks waking up this early is some sort of divine punishment, because seriously, who likes being pulled out of dreams before sunrise? But now, in this moment, where two hot guys with incredible bodies are adding to the water bill, he’s thanking the higher powers that be.

 

He’s also pulling off his pajamas to step into the shower.

 

“W-wait! This isn’t- mmph! ” Then, “Mmmm... ” because Kaminari’s kissing Izuku now, morning stiffness pressed against a freckled, wet thigh. It’s a combination of eagerness and morning breath that shouldn’t work, but somehow, stale Cheetos and lingering cum from whoever Kaminari sucked off last night makes Izuku’s heart beat faster. It helps that Kirishima’s panting against his ear, teeth sharp and playful, nipping their way down to his neck.

 

There’s a voice whispering in the back of Izuku’s mind, reminding him about his plan to go on dates, get to know his neighbors, and maybe hold off on the whole fucking whenever we’re in the same vicinity of each other thing. But suddenly there’s slick, lubed fingers poking at him — where did the lube even come from?! Did Kaminari bring it in here? Was it already in the shower? Izuku whines against Kaminari’s mouth, gripping onto his shoulders tight enough to hurt, and damnit, his ass is betraying him in the worst way because it’s swaying in Kirishima’s direction, quietly urging him to push his fingers inside.

 

“You’re so sexy like this, Midoriya,” then Kirishima slides a finger in.

 

That voice? Telling him not to do this? To take things slow for the sake of relationship development? It’s being fingered by Eijiro Kirishima while Denki Kaminari kisses it to oblivion. When Kaminari finally stops kissing him Izuku’s eyes are so heavy that he looks like he participated in an ongoing keg party, lips parted, tongue hanging out of his mouth and begging to be pulled into that mouth again.

 

“So hot, just, fuck,” because Kaminari is not the most eloquent dirty talker of the trio.

 

Izuku tries to speak but his words are all jumbled up, the water still falling around them as he loses his mind. He thinks he hears one of them mention a condom, definitely feels another finger in him, absolutely screams when Kaminari takes hold of his dick, the sound echoing through the shower.

 

“You ready for me?”

 

That’s Kirishima. Right? That’s his dick rubbing against his ass, isn’t it? Ah, yes, of course it is, because Kaminari’s kissing him again and Izuku’s fairly certain that his lips are gonna go numb.

 

“Gotta answer me, cutie.”

 

Izuku’s starting to wonder why Kacchan gets labeled as the awful one, especially when Kirishima lifts one of his legs, the tip of his penis slow, achingly sliding inside of him. Izuku wants to tell him that it’s kinda hard to talk when Kaminari’s tongue is so deep in his mouth, but instead he just ends up whining, practically crying, because Kirishima’s so thick, so hard, so everything.

 

And that voice, that hint of common sense comes back, but it tells Izuku to hold on and enjoy the ride.

 


 

So.

 

Trying to go out with Kirishima didn’t work out the way Izuku had planned.

 

In hindsight, he should’ve known, since he’d given in to Kirishima so easily the first time they were alone together.

 

But now Kirishima’s gone, off to train some of his personal clients.

 

Which leaves Izuku and Kaminari to their own devices.

 

With Bakugou having to do some work for his blog, the two decide to hang out the best — only — way Kaminari knows how: video games. He doesn’t have to be at work until late afternoon and Izuku doesn’t have any classes, so they spend the rest of the morning with pixel characters and cereal — the best Kaminari can offer when it comes to a balanced breakfast.

 

They last about ten minutes.

 

Because Kaminari, in his infinite wisdom, decides to compete for kisses. It’s so cheesy that it’s actually endearing, so Izuku foolishly agrees.

 

Let the record show that Izuku did try his best. He didn’t do anything scandalous like lose on purpose just so he could make out with Kaminari. If anything, he’s trying not to fall down that rabbit hole again, so he really, really wants to win first place. But Kaminari, apparently, is a Mario Kart expert, knows how to hit the brakes to drop into second place to avoid the blue shell, knows all the shortcuts and where to throw the green shell so it ricochets off the railings to smash into Izuku.

 

“How did you even-”

 

“I work at a video game store,” Kaminari says — rather blandly, actually, like winning first place is as natural as the pout on Izuku’s face.

 

“That doesn’t mean you’re automatically good at whatever game you touch!”

 

“It does if your manager is Jirou,” because she’s basically a gaming demon, worst of all, she knows it, flaunts it in his face whenever they game together. Him being good at video games is a defense mechanism against her at this point, though it does come with it’s... advantages...

 

“So basically you set me up.”

 

“No,” yes, absolutely yes. “I had no idea I would beat you,” yes he did, “I mean you game with your friends, right? I figured you had a chance,” no he didn’t.

 

Izuku’s face is so deadpan that it puts Bakugou’s to shame. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he says, then he leans over and gives Kaminari a quick peck on his cheek.

 

“What the hell was that?”

 

“You didn’t specify what kind of kiss.”

 

“What are you my grandma?!”

 

Izuku laughs. “That’s what you get for setting me up.”

 

“You little-” Kaminari pins Izuku down to the couch, the two laughing together until they realize a couple of things. One: Kaminari’s got Izuku’s wrists pinned above his head. Two: their faces are so close together that they can feel each other’s breaths on their lips. Three: those aren’t keys in their pockets, they’re just happy to see each other.

 

So now they’re kissing. For real. Mouths a mix of excitement, milk, and chewed up Fruit Loops. “Should probably pay you back for deceiving you,” Kaminari pants between kisses.

 

“Agreed,” and it doesn’t occur to Izuku that he has no idea what he’s agreeing to. From the look in Kaminari’s eyes Izuku should piece together that it’s something nefarious, but he doesn’t get the gist of it until Kaminari’s sliding down his body and pulling at his shorts. “Ah! Wait! You don’t have to-”

 

“Of course I don’t, but I want to,” he says, purrs actually, like a cat that’s been presented with a nice piece of fish. “Ah, and it looks like you want me to, Midoriya.”

 

Sometimes, Izuku hates dick — his especially. It shouldn’t be this easy to tell when someone’s turned on, not when you’re trying to take things slow. “K-Kaminari...”

 

The blond responds by licking his lips and kissing the tip of Izuku’s penis. “Relax,” he says, “Gonna take good care of you, I’ve been wanting to since we first met.”

 

“Kaminari!”

 

“What? I like sucking dick,” and to demonstrate, he opens his mouth and takes Izuku in one fell swoop. No teasing. No licking. Just full blown head, nails digging into Izuku’s thighs as he moans loudly around him.

 

Well. At least Kaminari knows what he likes.

 

“Guess you two are done gaming, huh?”

 

Kaminari, unfortunately, has picked the most public place to indulge in Izuku Midoriya. Izuku’s torn between scrambling away or thrusting his hips because, damn, Kaminari’s still sucking on him like an amusement park lollipop — sinfully sweet, the kind of treat that ruins your appetite but you’re too far gone on artificial cherry flavor. Izuku manages to stammer out, “K-Kacchan,” before it breaks into an embarrassed whimper because... is Kaminari going faster now?

 

“He does like to put on a show,” Bakugou chuckles, and no, oh no, he’s walking over to them. “Isn’t that right, Sparky?”

 

There’s not a lot of things that take Izuku’s breath away. He’s got experience with having multiple partners, so this kind of situation isn’t all that rare. But watching Bakugou run his fingers through Kaminari’s hair, petting him, is a bit much to handle.

 

“He taste good?” Bakugou asks, voice bordering on illegal.

 

Mmmmhm,” then Kaminari pulls back, licking his lips like he has to get every last bit of Izuku. “You wanna try?”

 

Oh god.

 

It’s at this point that Izuku becomes a mere spectator, watching from somewhere outside his body as his two neighbors sit him up on the couch. They’re both on their knees in front of him, Bakugou kissing at the base of his cock while Kaminari presses his lips against the freckles on his inner thigh. “K-Kami...” he can’t even get the full name out. “Ka... Kach...” nope, can’t do that one either.

 

Someone’s mouth is on him. He has no idea whose it is because his eyes are squeezed shut, teeth grinding into his bottom lip. He’s gripping onto the couch cushion like a life raft, his entire body trembling as he gets closer, closer, “I-I’m gonna-” cum. Cum fast. Cum hard.

 

Cum now.

 

He can barely recognize the scream that tears from his throat as he empties into... he cracks an eye open and, fuck, it’s Bakugou. When he pulls back Kaminari goes in, moving his tongue over Izuku’s penis, searching for any scraps that Bakugou left behind.

 

Izuku sags back against the couch, the Mario Kart start screen playing on in front of him.

 


 

“So how are your neighbors?”

 

Izuku looks up from where he’s resting his head on the food court table. Both Shouto and Tenya are eating lunch, minding their own business — supposedly — but Ochako is smiling brightly at Izuku. If she had a tail, it’d be frantically wagging, anxious to get an answer to her question.

 

“They’re...” Sexual? Hot? Relentless? “Fine. They’re fine.”

 

Just fine? You look way too tired for a just fine.”

 

As to be expected, Tenya interjects with, “They aren’t affecting your studies are they?”

 

“No, of course not. I just...” Izuku eyes his three friends seriously before he takes a deep breath and asks, “Am I a slut?”

 

“What?!” Tenya.

 

“Probably.” Ochako.

 

Shouto slurps his noodles — the only response he’s willing to give.

 

Izuku whines and buries his face in his arms. “I knew it!”

 

“Listen. If you want me to feel bad for you about hooking up with three gorgeous men then you are complaining to the wrong girl,” Ochako says, patting the stop of Izuku’s hair and fluffing it up more. “Besides, what’s wrong with what you’re doing? Same thing you do with us.”

 

“I believe Midoriya said he wanted something more,” Shouto says. “Are they not willing to do that?”

 

“That’s not it. Every time I try we end up having sex.”

 

“Oh no,” Ochako says dryly as she takes a sip from her drink. “How terrible.”

 

“Be nice,” Tenya says. He doesn’t mean it, though, because someone has to give Izuku a hard time.

 

“Have you tried saying no?” Shouto asks.

 

“Yes!” When his friends each give him various doubtful looks Izuku throws his hands up in the air and says, “Not... really...?”

 

Not at all, actually, if last night’s any indication.

 

So.

 

About last night.

 

After accidentally making use of their shower and couch, Izuku thought it’d only be fair to invite them all over for dinner. He’s not the greatest cook, but he’s capable-ish, so he was more than happy to offer some sort of meal.

 

He’d lasted longer with Kaminari.

 

Because Bakugou is that guy in the club who takes one look at you and you realize that, wow, I’m about to give it up real fast tonight. Fortunately for the general populous, Bakugou doesn’t go to clubs. His devilish smirk is savored in a handful of places — online with his fashion blog, his own home, and apparently, Izuku Midoriya’s kitchen.

 

Kirishima knows this, too, so he just leaned back against the wall, watching Bakugou do his thing.

 

Izuku chopping peppers? Bakugou slid up behind him, hands on Izuku’s hips as he asked if he needed any help. Izuku getting a pot from the bottom cabinet? There Bakugou was again, pressed up against Izuku as he leaned down in front of him. All right, so, maybe Izuku had bent over, slowly. Maybe. Definitely. Yes.

 

And Izuku’s been fucked through his clothing before, simulated intercourse while still fully dressed, but last night? With Bakugou? And Kirishima watching with a playful little grin on his face?

 

All he could do was hold onto the edge of the counter, gasping for breath as Bakugou pounded against his shorts like he could fuck them right off. Izuku made the mistake of looking over at Kirishima, as if looking for some sort of guidance, but the redhead was smirking at the both of them, stroking his erection, hand in his pants as he slowly pumped his dick.

 

“Like what you see?” Bakugou asked, grinding against Izuku’s backside.

 

“Hell yeah I do.”

 

“Want more?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So he started touching me. Through my shorts. Right there. In front of Kirishima. Who was masturbating,”  Izuku says to his friends. He’s proud of himself for getting through the story without withering away into a flustered mess of green and freckles.

 

Tenya’s staring at him, and honestly, his jaw would be resting on his lunch plate if that were remotely possible. Meanwhile, Shouto looks a little intrigued, while Ochako-

 

“Damn Deku! Can I borrow one of them?”

 

“What?!” Then, “What about Tsu?”

 

“She can come, too.”

 

Izuku raises an eyebrow at her. There’s no blush, no nervous tremble in her voice. Did he miss something? Did Ochako finally...? One look at Tenya and Shouto says it all, his friends quietly nodding to him. “When did I miss that?!”

 

“It just kinda happened naturally,” Ochako says with a wistful smile. “Maybe that’s what’s happening with you and your neighbors.”

 

“You think what happened in the kitchen is natural?!”

 

“Maybe it is for them. Maybe it’s their way of including you in.”

 

“It’s possible,” Shouto says as he finishes his meal. He smiles when Tenya gets up and takes both of their trays to the trash can. Always so attentive, Tenya is. “Think about it, Midoriya. Is sex the only thing you all do?”

 

That question lingers in the back of Izuku’s mind for the rest of the day.

 


 

“Hey Midoriya!”

 

Before Izuku can say anything a plastic bag is held up in his face, Kaminari practically bouncing up and down in front of Izuku’s front door.

 

“Hey... what’s this?”

 

“Dinner!”

 

Izuku gives him a skeptical look. He can see boxes of frozen appetizers through the plastic, a mix of chicken wings, mozzarella sticks, and other foods that generally don’t constitute an entire meal. “OK...”

 

“Come over and hang out with us! We’re gonna watch some movies.”

 

Ah.

 

Izuku knew this was coming.

 

He’s slept with them in a multitude of ways, but never all of them at the same time. It’s time for the big payoff, the moment of truth, as they say. And it’s not like Izuku hasn’t been looking forward to it, he’s just...

 

“I’ll be right over.”

 

“Excellent!”

 

Is sex the only thing you all do?

 

So Izuku’s sitting in the living room with his neighbors, Shouto’s voice tickling the back of his mind as he watches Kirishima and Kaminari argue over who gets the last hot wing — Bakugou does, but then he gives it to Izuku. “Ah, thank you,” Izuku says.

 

Bakugou shrugs while both Kirishima and Kaminari smile at him, as if they hadn’t been staring each other down so fiercely that blips of lightning danced between their eyes.

 

Is sex the only thing you all do?

 

Izuku leans against Bakugou as Kaminari plops down on Kirishima’s lap, munching on a stick of fried cheese and commenting on how it’s the best way to eat it. This starts up a debate about cheese, of all things, and Bakugou throws kernels of popcorn at them while calling them idiots.

 

“Ow! Dude!”

 

“Oh please, it’s popcorn,” Bakugou says as Kaminari pretends like he’s been mortally wounded.

 

“Kirishima! Defend my honor!”

 

“I’m on it,” then Kirishima throws a jalapeno popper at Bakugou. It bounces off of Izuku’s forehead, proving that Kirishima’s aim isn’t the greatest. “Crap! Sorry, Midoriya!”

 

Is sex the only thing you all do?

 

It’s the oddest way to have an epiphany, Izuku staring down at the breaded popper that’s sitting on his leg. But he realizes, as he picks it up and turns it in his hand, that he’s been focusing on all the wrong things. His interactions with his neighbors haven’t been solely sexual, it’s just been the endgame due to their four-way mutual attraction. He jogs with Kirishima first thing in the morning, the two engaging in pleasant conversation between breaths of air. He plays video games with Kaminari — poorly — and tries his best not to laugh at how much of a perfectionist Bakugou is about everything — even something as basic as chopping peppers.

 

Sex tends to happen as a result, but it, as Ochako said, comes naturally with the four of them.

 

Without even realizing it, Izuku has managed to fit right in with the three of them.

 

So he smiles and throws the fried ball back at Kirishima, nailing him right in his nose.

 

The redhead lets out a sharp cry while Bakugou laughs and says, “Damn, that’s one hell of an arm you got.”

 

“Yeah, I’m pretty dangerous when it comes to using appetizers as projectiles.”

 

“Oh yeah? So that’s how it is, huh?” Kirishima smirks, a glint in his eye as Kaminari grabs two more jalapeno poppers, both of them ready to throw them at Bakugou and Izuku.

 

“You don’t wanna do that,” Bakugou says, because he’s got a whole lot of popcorn left in his bowl.

 

Is sex the only thing you all do?

 

Well... sometimes it’s a great way to stop a food fight.

 

Izuku’s on his feet and walking over to Kirishima and Kaminari before anymore food can get tossed around. He leans in, smile sweet like honey, and eats the popper right out of Kaminari’s hand. It’s a mix of spice, cheese, breading, and Kaminari and Kirishima’s dumbfounded faces. Izuku uses the moment to his advantage and eats Kirishima’s popper next, making sure to nip at his fingers when he does it.

 

“That... shouldn’t be hot, right?” Kaminari asks. Strawberries and whipped cream? Yes. But the finger foods you order at the bar?

 

“It’s kinda hot,” Izuku says. “O-oh! You mean the act, not the food itself...”

 

“Stupid Deku,” Bakugou mutters. He’s standing behind Izuku now, as if he can’t be separated from him for longer than five seconds. Kaminari still looks like he’s struggling to find his lost brain cells, and Kirishima-

 

“Are we... about to...?”

 

And Izuku can’t believe what he’s hearing, not because of the question, but the way the question is asked. Kirishima actually looks... flustered, voice shaky and uncertain, while Kaminari’s eyes are a combination of eager and terrified. Izuku looks over his shoulder at Bakugou, who’s actually standing there, watching the movie, and not looking at anyone.

 

They’re nervous.

 

They’re actually nervous.

 

That’s when something occurs to Izuku. “Have you all ever done this before?”

 

“W-what?” Both Kirishima and Kaminari share a laugh, but it’s disjointed, desperate for Izuku to not give them a hard time about this.

 

But Bakugou decides to jump straight to honesty, because seriously, who's got time for bravado? “No, we haven’t. It’s never even been brought up with anyone before.”

 

“Ever?”

 

“Yeah. Ever.”

 

“But you all were so...” Determined? Adamant? Horny? “... persistent.” Izuku settles on persistent .

 

“Well yeah, cuz it’s you,” Kirishima says it like it’s common knowledge. “You’re kinda the whole package.”

 

“Yeah, your smile alone needs to go through a security check.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“He means it’s like a weapon, like something dangerous, something that works against us every time,” Bakugou says, sighing, because he can’t believe he’s been reduced to Kaminari pick up line translator.

 

“O-oh! I get it!”

 

“Do you?” Bakugou asks. “Cuz there’s no need to entertain Sparky’s terrible lines.”

 

“Hey! I take full offense to that!”

 

“Good.”

 

“So...” Izuku decides to take a chance. He’s got an idea on what the answer is but he wants to hear it. “After we do this, you still...”

 

“What?! You thought we wouldn’t want to keep seeing you?!” Kirishima’s so offended that he nearly knocks Kaminari out of his lap.

 

“What the hell, man!” It’s fine, because Kaminari does jump out of Kirishima’s lap.

 

“It’s just... we kept...”

 

“Fucking?” Bakugou. Always so helpful. “So? Don’t you fuck your other friends?”

 

“Well... y-yes but we were friends first. The four of us went straight to sex.”

 

“To be fair, we tried not to,” Kirishima points out.

 

“It’s called having chemistry,” then Kaminari drapes an arm around Izuku’s shoulders. “There’s nothing wrong with that, right?”

 

“Wow. Sparky actually said something smart.”

 

“Fuck off, Bakugou!”

 

Izuku looks between the three of them and smiles as everything falls into place. He also smiles because he knows his next sentence is going to send them into a tizzy. Let the record show that Izuku Midoriya is a bit of an asshole. “Should we continue the movie... or go upstairs?”

 

“Upstairs? Like upstairs upstairs?” Kaminari asks, like he’s forgotten the layout of his own house.

 

Izuku can’t help but smirk. Now that his earlier worries have been settled he suddenly remembers how awful these three had been to him — awful meaning good, of course. The shower. The couch. His own goddamn kitchen.

 

Suddenly, Izuku’s middle name is karma, because he’s coming back to bite each and every one of them.

 

As soon as they get upstairs — movie turned off and food forgotten on the table — it’s like a traffic light flips to a green as bright as Izuku’s eyes. Izuku takes turns kissing each of them, presses himself against their bodies in a way that gets their blood pumping. They learn quickly that when they aren’t taking him off guard he’s a demanding little minx because, “Take your clothes off,” and he has the nerve to stand back and watch, like they’re putting on a show.

 

They each do as they’re told.

 

And ah, this is why Ochako has no sympathy for him, because he’s got three attractive men stripping for him — shirts being tossed to the ground, belts being unbuckled. Bakugou decides to really get into it by pressing himself against Kaminari and helping him slide his pants down, and oh, yeah, that’s a nice little sight to behold, especially when Kirishima kisses him and reminds him that, “Midoriya’s watching.”

 

“And he should come over here,” Bakugou says, and well, it’d be rude not to.

 

Both Izuku and Kaminari are sandwiched between Bakugou and Kirishima now, Izuku still wearing clothes — but not for long. Kaminari’s pulling his shirt over his head and kisses him as soon as it’s on the floor with the rest of their clothes, meanwhile, Kirishima makes quick work of his pants, more than happy to settle himself against Izuku’s ass. Izuku almost doesn’t notice, too busy focusing on the way Kaminari’s lips taste and wondering how mozzarella sticks and overly sauced wings can leave him breathless.

 

Kaminari ends up breaking the kiss because Bakugou’s rubbing himself against his ass. The feeling’s mutual, because Kirishima’s doing the same thing to Izuku. The two in the middle end up holding onto each other, lips smacking together when they can but they’re too busy trying to remember what breathing even is. Something about air? Needing air? Right? Whatever it is, it’s overrated, especially when there’s a hard dick in front and behind you.

 

They all make it to the bed. How? They’re not sure. Someone grabs lube. Someone else grabs condoms. No one really knows who has the sense to do it but it doesn’t matter, not when Izuku and Kaminari are sitting up on their knees, kisses sloppy and hot, sounds messy and loud. Kirishima and Bakugou are behind them, Kirishima easing slick fingers inside of Izuku while Bakugou moves his a little faster inside Kaminari. “Shit,” Kaminari breathes, forehead pressed against Izuku’s. “S-shit, Bakugou!”

 

Izuku makes eye contact with Bakugou and throws a flirty little smirk his way before he reaches down and wraps his hand around Kaminari’s penis. It’s too much, too quickly, and Kaminari reaches his climax. Shit, Izuku barely had to do anything, all it had taken was a firm grip and a smile.

 

“Already?” Bakugou chuckles as Kaminari sags against Izuku.

 

“Fuck you,” and Kaminari would be embarrassed if he didn’t feel so damn good right now.

 

“It’s cute how you think I’m done with you.”

 

“Wha-oh fuck!” Because Bakugou’s pushing himself inside, smirking like a hungry animal who feels the need to play with his food before he dives in for the meal.

 

Izuku leans in and kisses Kaminari again, at least, that’s the plan, but Kirishima’s slowly entering him and, “A-ah, Kirishima.” Now it’s Izuku’s turn to lean against Kaminari because, “S-so big, you’re so big, Kirishima,” he whines.

 

Mmmm,” that sound comes for Bakugou, because hearing Izuku praise Kirishima, watching Kirishima fuck him while he’s fucking Kaminari is a new level of enticing.

 

Nothing makes sense after that. Both Izuku and Kaminari are crying out, voices echoing around the group, bodies pressed together so tightly that it damn near hurts. Bakugou and Kirishima are panting, grunting, hands tight on their hips, bed squeaking with each move they make. Izuku cums first — he thinks? He’s not sure. Everything’s a pleasurable, hot mess, one where Kirishima’s still moving and Kaminari’s telling Bakugou to fuck him harder.

 

At some point they change positions. Izuku’s laying down, legs spread wide, indecent, as Bakugou gets on top of him. And oh, Bakugou slides inside of him so easily, and it feels like he’s willingly touching fire, willingly letting himself get burned. There’s a loud smack and Izuku catches a glimpse of Kirishima, smacking Bakugou’s ass before he positions himself behind him.

 

“Hey.”

 

Izuku turns his attention to the side of the bed. Kaminari’s standing there, holding his dick in his hand, watching as Izuku parts his lips and waits to have it eased into his mouth.

 

“Fuck,” Bakugou whispers, then he screams the word, “Fuck, fuck!” Kirishima’s inside of him now, and yeah, Izuku’s right — he’s big, and filling Bakugou so well.

 

Izuku’s trying to keep track of everything that’s going on. There’s a penis in his mouth — Kaminari’s — and another one inside of him — Kacchan, ah Kacchan. Kirishima’s thrusting into Bakugou while Bakugou thrusts into Izuku, which creates an incredible kind of momentum between them. Kaminari’s fingers are in Izuku’s hair and he’s encouraging him, “Ah, yeah, that feels good.”

 

But Bakugou is, too. “So good. So good, Deku.”

 

A few minutes pass — minutes, hours? — and positions change again. Bakugou’s laying in bed and Izuku’s riding him, bouncing up and down as he puts his thigh muscles to work. He’s got a cock in each hand, jacking off Kirishima and Kaminari, face flush and lewd with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. “I’m close,” Kirishima says, and Kaminari lets out a grunt of agreement. They both cum in Izuku’s hands, leaving behind a sticky mess.

 

There’s so much they all want to do but their energy is wearing thin. Kaminari’s given up, curling up in bed and drifting off with a content, dopey look on his face. Izuku’s pace is so uneven on top of Bakugou that Kirishima gets behind him and helps him move, hands on his hips as he whispers encouraging words in his ear. “You’re so good, baby,” he says, sounding like he just ran a marathon without taking a water break. “Keep going, you’re almost there.”

 

Bakugou smirks up at Izuku and it’s unholy, devilish. Seeing Izuku like this is thrilling, the smaller man so exhausted but determined to keep going. “That’s it, Deku,” he says, moving his hips, pounding up into him. “So perfect, mmmm you’re so fucking perfect.”

 

The praise goes straight to Izuku’s cock and all he can do is scream, sagging back against Kirishima as Bakugou erupts inside of him.

 


 

When Izuku wakes up the next day he’s made aware of two things. One: he’s not in his own bed. Two: he’s sore as hell. As the details become clearer he realizes that he’s in the middle of not one, not two, but three sleeping bodies, everyone in a different state of disarray. Kaminari is on his back, mouth wide open and snoring like a chainsaw against a tree. Kirishima is laying next to him, leg sprawl across his hip, drool dripping out of his mouth and onto Kaminari’s shoulder.

 

And Bakugou? He’s holding onto Izuku like a teddy bear, head on his chest, face deceptively angelic while sleeping.

 

Izuku smiles. He can definitely get used to this.

 

Until his phone rings, obnoxiously cheerful ringtone going off in the pocket of his discarded jeans.

 

Moving proves to be difficult. The more he tries to pull away the stronger Bakugou’s grip is, followed by a drowsy complaint of, “Turn that damn phone off.”

 

“Kacchan... I need to answer it.”

 

“If you’re awake you could be doing something else.”

 

“W-what?”

 

“He’s right.”

 

Izuku’s eyes widen when he feels Kirishima behind him, instantly awake, and instantly hard. “A-are you serious? Even after yesterday?”

 

“Mmhm,” then Kirishima nips at his ear, Bakugou leaning in and running his tongue over Izuku’s neck.

 

Izuku decides to scratch his earlier statement. He’s not sure if he can get used to this at all, but he sure as hell is gonna try. So his phone rings on, Kirishima running his hands over his tone, thick thighs while Bakugou bites at his neck, leaving marks like he’s trying to brand Izuku as his.

 

The doorbell interrupts the moment. Bakugou growls and contemplates breaking it. Kirishima sighs and gets out of bed, “Yeah yeah,” then he upsets the entire room by pulling on his boxers, covering his nude form.

 

“People shouldn’t be allowed to come over so early,” Bakugou mutters, then he goes back to kissing at Izuku’s neck, like the doorbell never rang.

 

“Kacchan!”

 

“What? If I gotta be awake it might as well be worth it.”

 

Izuku laughs. He can’t really argue with that. So he tilts his head back for Bakugou and-

 

“Midoriya! Your friends are at the door!”

 

... and he remembers that he has to get to class. “Crap!”

 

Izuku, apparently, possesses an inhuman amount of strength, because he’s able to break out of Bakugou’s hold and launch himself out of the bed. He’s putting his clothes back on while running through the house, hair a disaster and clothes a wrinkled mess. Just like Kirishima said, all three of his friends are at the door — scratching that, four , because Tsu is standing with Ochako, blinking innocently at Izuku.

 

Great.

 

“H-hey guys!”

 

Ochako doesn’t waste any time, locking in on Izuku’s state of dress with a wide grin on her face. “Mooooorning Deku. You weren’t answering your phone so we thought you might be over here.”

 

“Are we interrupting something, Midoriya?” Tsu asks.

 

“N-no! Not at all! I’ll be right out.”

 

“The hell you will.”

 

Ah. Bakugou’s downstairs now, Kaminari with him but he looks completely lost.

 

“Kacchan...”

 

“We were in the middle of something, Half and Half.”

 

Shouto gives Bakugou a blank stare. “I haven’t even said anything.”

 

“Doesn’t matter. You were thinking it.”

 

Shouto shrugs, knowing that Bakugou’s right.

 

“Whatever the case, we have to get to get going. Midoriya, please wrap things up quickly,” Tenya says.

 

“R-right...”

 

Bakugou slams the door in their faces, then there’s the unmistakable sound of someone’s body being shoved against the door — probably Izuku’s.

 

“... when do you think he’ll realize it’s Saturday?” Tsu asks.

 

Tenya sighs. “Was that really necessary? Did we really have to do that?”

 

“What? I just wanted to make sure everything worked out,” Ochako says.

 

As the group heads back to Shouto’s car he adds, “He could’ve just answered the phone...” because Izuku having a new group of lovers means nothing — Shouto will always be the asshole.