Eijirou’s always considered himself a nice guy. Easy to please, eager to please, friendly, reliable—heck, it was everything he’d built his Pro Hero career on. And, he liked to think it was part of why he’d finally been able to snag Denki and Katsuki into a long-term, committed relationship.
So the last thing he ever expects of himself is to purposely start a fist fight at a strip club.
It happens on a very irregular night out for them with the old UA gang. The club is in some warehouse by the water, and even though it smells like jalapeño poppers and strawberry lip gloss and booze, nobody seems to notice or care because Todoroki and Sero are getting married in a few weeks time. There are obscene party hats, matching t-shirts, dollar bills, and all the other accoutrements for a bachelor party. And just as Todoroki is receiving a lap dance from a female stripper wearing a shiny bikini while Sero throws single bills over them, Eijirou decides to break away from the crowded stage for a glass of water and a breath of not-so-fresh air at their reserved booth.
He’d decided to stay sober tonight so he could get his boyfriends home safe, and as he settles in the booth, he’s surprised to see Denki and Katsuki following him over.
“You should’ve stayed over there,” Eijirou says with a chuckle as the two of them reach him and Denki takes his hand. Katsuki scoots into the booth next to him and shrugs.
“’s no fun without you there,” he says, his cheeks a little red after taking a few shots.
Denki nods, his cheeks even redder as starts to swing his and Eijirou’s arms in the air. “Yeah, babe, it’s okay! We have all night to watch Hanta buy Shouto lap dances.”
“Alright, alright. Are you having fun at least?”
“Yup,” Denki says. He raises Eijirou’s hand in the air to spin himself underneath like they’re on a dance floor. “Kats is, too,” he adds with smile.
“Oi, you don’t speak for me, you—“
“Aw, babe, it’s okay to say you’re having fun, come on. Want a drink—or wait!” Denki says, releasing Eijirou’s hand and pulling Katsuki away from the table to push him into a free chair outside of the booth. Katsuki reflexively crosses his arms and avoids Denki’s gaze as he continues, “What about a dance? I think it’ll relax you a little bit.”
“Why,” Katsuki grumbles, “would I want a dance from any of these extras?”
“Not from them,” Denki says with a wicked smile.
Eijirou laughs when Denki grasps the top of the chair over Katsuki’s shoulder, places a foot on the seat between his legs (Katsuki mutters darkly under his breath and spreads his legs an inch wider), and rolls his hips in time with the beat of the music, never taking his eyes off of Katsuki’s face.
“Are you serious,” Katsuki says, leaning just slightly back from Denki’s thrusting.
And Denki just leans down to kiss him on the nose before moving almost seamlessly to straddle his lap backwards.
“Shhh, just let it happen,” he says, swaying his ass over Katsuki’s thighs (Katsuki strains his neck up and away in disgust). The icing on the cake is a sly-but-subtle wink over at Eijirou, who feels his shoulders shaking with laughter.
“Babe, you look like a professional,” Eijirou says, unable to tamp down the huge smile on his face, especially when Denki does finger guns at him.
He shakes his head, murmuring his thanks to the waitress that brings a plate of nachos to the table that Sero ordered ages ago and feeling his stomach rumble despite the huge meal they had earlier. Eijirou picks a chip off the plate and crunches away as Denki continues his silly little dance and Katsuki keeps trying to look put upon.
And even though it’s a joke, Eijirou can’t help the way his eyes travel down to where Denki’s hips are gyrating around Katsuki, can’t help noticing how Katsuki’s face flushes redder and his hands squeeze around his own forearms in embarrassment. Eijirou’s pants feel a little tighter at the errant, dirty thought that crosses his mind, and he swallows his chip loudly as his imagination wanders just a little more.
He thinks about dragging them into the club bathroom for a sloppy make-out session, imagines jumping them right when they get home and getting Denki’s mouth around him, getting Katsuki to split him open with his cock…
Eijirou shifts in his seat and drains the rest of his water, wondering if they’ll be up for any of that later, thinking that maybe a trip to the bathroom is due soon in any case because he’s got to piss. But before he can do anything, voice interrupts him from somewhere behind the booth.
“Nice moves, sweetheart! Come over here next, will you?”
Eijirou blinks and looks around as Katsuki finally pushes Denki off of him, his eyes looking sharper than normal as they scan the crowd for the source of the voice. But they doen’t see anyone looking at them.
Denki shrugs and smiles down at Katsuki before raising a leg to climb over him again… only to be stopped by a burly guy who comes out from Eijirou’s periphery and grabs Denki’s wrist.
“Hey, that’s how you treat customers?” the guy says. He’s big, aggressive, and his words are just slightly slurred as he talks.
Katsuki immediately stands, his face contorted with anger as he attempts to push the guy away, but the guy shoulder-checks him hard enough to have him tripping backwards. The guy clicks his tongue and jerks Denki closer to him, even as Denki’s skin starts to spark and fizzle.
“I said,” the guy continues in his ear, unaware of the way his hair is starting to stand on end with static, “come over to the table in the corner next, you hear me? And maybe you can bring your friend, too, if he promises to calm down a little bit.”
Denki opens his mouth to retort, but Katsuki is back between them again, his palms crackling threateningly. “We don’t work here you fuckin’ prick—“
“Dude, you need to let go of me—”
Eijirou, who’d frozen still as the scene played out in front of him, finally feels himself springing into action at their angry, sharp tones. He knows his boyfriends are a little tipsy and belligerent, sees that this poor guy is just very confused and about to get his ass beat by two of the top fifteen heroes in the country, so he reaches out, wanting to help clear things up.
But even if he hasn’t had a drop of alcohol, getting up feels slow, a strange sense of calm seeping cold into Eijirou’s veins when he registers how angry and hurt Katsuki and Denki look. He sees that the guy is still smirking in a satisfied way with Denki in his grasp, that he won’t let go, even as they says over and over that they don’t work at the club. Eijirou wonders mildly why he won’t just let go, and it’s all he remembers before he inserts himself in the space between them, tilts his head at the guy, then punches him square in the jaw.
It’s a sickening-yet-satisfying crack as Eijirou’s fist makes impact with the guy’s nose in a quick, sharp jab, followed quickly by a loud crash as he staggers back into a small bar table behind him, those dull, mean eyes suddenly wide with shock, arms windmilling around as he attempts and fails to catch his balance. The house music booms over the chaos of the assault, along with several shocked gasps from onlookers.
But Eijirou hears none of this. His head feels hollowed out, there’s no reason, no voice saying that this isn’t how Pro Heroes act. The noise around him is a mere echo in comparison to the way his heartbeat stomps in his ears as he stares down at the man who put hands on his boyfriends.
“Eijirou,” a clear voice says at his side. There’s a hand on his shoulder and another pulling at his limp forearm, but he feels himself automatically shaking out of their grasp and pushing forward as if to go in for more.
No, no, no, idiot, a small voice in his brain argues. The empty fog that had entered Eijirou’s head is clearing a little, and he thinks he may be able to stop himself if he just could convince his legs to work properly. He’s down already, you dumb rock, no more—
“Ei.” Katsuki appears in front of him, hands clamping down on his shoulders and moving to block Eijirou’s view of the man. His brows are knitted together in concern, his mouth pinched and tense. He’s concerned, Eijirou realizes, and it’s enough to snap him out of it a bit.
“That’s enough. We need to go.” Katsuki speaks slowly, like he’s talking to a particularly slow second-grader.
Eijirou swallows at this, his eyes scanning the crowd and finally seeing things clearly; their friends gathered behind them shooting dirty looks at the guy sprawled out over the fallen table, the lack of music, the strippers gone and away from the stage, and the bouncers on the floor, looking directly at him and flexing their arms.
“Come on, you big lug,” Denki says as he and Katsuki pull him around and away from the scene. “Before the bouncers make us.”
“I,” Eijirou says with a fervent nod. “Okay. Let’s go.”
He keeps his head down as he lets himself be steered away from the table, the barely-eaten nacho platter crunching under his shoes after toppling over onto the floor in the chaos. He continues putting one foot in front of the other, pushing down the urge to go back because he realizes that he still needs to piss and maybe he just take a moment to collect himself in the bathroom alone.
“We should go, too,” a familiar voice says from far away, interrupting his thoughts.
“No, Han, wait—” Denki lets go of Eijirou, and he hears Denki’s voice floating behind him as he tries to reassure the others. But Katsuki keeps a firm grip on Eijirou’s bicep until they’re pushing open the doors of the club together.
It’s silent when they get outside, the sky velvety black and the air salty and bracing with how close they are to the bay. Katsuki leads them a little ways down from the club in the direction they came, stopping so they’re still in view of the club doors.
“You alright?” Katsuki says quietly, turning to look into Eijirou’s face and reaching down for his hand, which is purpled with a light bruise. His knuckles twinge painfully when Katsuki spreads his fingers out and studies each knob of his hand, and something about it has words spilling from Eijirou’s mouth.
“I—“ Eijirou says, his voice low, unable to process or voice the thoughts swimming in his head. “I can’t believe I—“
“Don’t. That guy was being an asshole,” Katsuki says firmly before pressing his mouth to the back of Eijirou’s hand and setting it down to his sides. “That shithead deserved it, and I’m glad you did something because if I didn’t have a few drinks in me and a little more sense, I would’ve. And don’t even think about apologizing when Sparky gets out here, he’ll be mad if you do.”
Eijirou shakes his head, his gaze down at the sidewalk.
He wasn’t about to apologize. He feels… he’s not sure. He remembers how calm he’d felt when he punched the guy, and he feels calm now, but it’s different. Somewhere underneath all of it, he realizes that he feels very angry. He’s angry that his boyfriends were treated like that over something as stupid as a lap dance. He’s angry that some random guy thought it was okay to talk to them like that. But there’s something else in simmering in the anger, something darker and unknown.
Eijirou clenches his fists tight and looks up at Katsuki. “I’m mad,” he says.
Katsuki scoffs and stuffs his hands in his jeans, his head tipped up to the sky. “Don’t beat yourself up, alright? You saw us in trouble and you defended us. Don’t make it so complicated.”
“I didn’t mean at myself.”
Katsuki doesn’t respond right away. He’s slow to bring his head down, to look at Eijirou with curious eyes, as if he’s at the circus and he’s finally seeing a juggling bear for what it really is; a wild animal. He takes a quick breath, a question on his lips, but before he can say anything, the sound of footsteps on the pavement cuts through the silence. They turn to see Denki running towards them with a bundle of coats in his hands, a huge smile on his face.
“How is he?” Denki asks. The question is directed at Katsuki, who receives his jacket and presses a kiss to Denki’s temple.
“Not sure,” Katsuki says. “I told him not to apologize to us and he—”
“Apologize? There’s nothing to apologize for,” Denki laughs, letting Katsuki hug him close from behind and throwing Eijirou’s jacket over to him. “Maybe it wasn’t civil, but you did the right thing in my book.”
Eijirou swipes the jacket out of the air and shrugs it on, ignoring the way Katsuki is looking at him over Denki’s shoulder. He doesn’t know what to say or how to continue their conversation from before Denki arrived, but he also knows he’s not gonna get away with some half-assed answer, especially with the way Katsuki is studying him. He takes a deep breath.
“I know. I know I did the right thing, I mean,” he says simply.
“Oh, wow. Okay,” Denki says. He looks a little surprised, but he composes himself quickly, the smile returning to his face as he looks between Eijirou and Katsuki. “Okay,” he says again. “That’s good, then. I’m glad.”
“Me, too,” Katsuki says abruptly, his red eyes boring into Eijirou’s. His arms visibly tighten around Denki’s waist and his mouth curls into a devious smile as he continues, “It’s really good. Right, Ei? No need to go and see if the jerk’s okay, no need to apologize to anyone, you just made sure that lousy extra knew what was yours, right?”
“Uh. What?” Denki says incredulously, pushing at Katsuki’s arms as if to break the tension. Katsuki doesn’t budge in the slightest, leaving Denki to huff and look over at Eijirou with a question in his eyes. “Did I miss something?”
“Come on, Ei,” Katsuki says. “Tell him how angry it made you to see someone else touching your things.”
“His things? Us?”
“Who else would I be talking about? Maybe you can clue him in, Red.”
Katsuki is grinning very widely now, his incisors glinting under the street light, and, if the pet name is any indication, Eijirou knows that something dangerous is about to happen.
Eijirou’s mouth feels dry as he cuts himself off, his insides hot and itchy. There’s something like realization bubbling to the surface as he works to understand what exactly Katsuki is saying: that Katsuki and Denki are his. It all feels like something that someone else—someone very different than himself—would say, but the beast in Eijirou feels warm to the idea that Katsuki and Denki belong to him, that he just defended what rightfully belongs to him.
But. That isn’t how nice guys act, is it? Why would Eijirou even like the sound of that? Katsuki and Denki aren’t things, they’re people, and Eijirou cares about them a lot, cares enough to beat someone up without blinking twice or asking any questions…
The only logical explanation: Katsuki and Denki have a very strange power to make Eijirou act absolutely ballistic, to make him act the exact opposite of “nice.” Eijirou inhales deeply at the realization, and he tentatively looks up to try to tell them.
“I was angry. That he thought he could touch you,” he says slowly. “That he thought you’d go over there and entertain him.”
“Yeah? What would you have done if we did?”
Denki’s mouth drops open, and he turns to face Katsuki. “Kats, what are you—“
“We’re free to do what we want, right?” Katsuki repeats again, cutting Denki off and leering at Eijirou.
And Eijirou can only scrunch his eyes and shake his head because he doesn’t want that at all. The idea of them going over to the dark corner of the club to dance for someone else makes him want to break something.
Katsuki’s voice is mock-surprised when he says, “No? We’re not free to do what we want?”
“What are we supposed to do then?”
“You’re mine and you’re supposed to stay with me.”
The words rush out in a low, angry tone, and Eijirou can’t seem to look Denki in the face in the silence the follows. He doesn’t move when Denki finally breaks away from Katsuki’s grasp and approaches him
“Denks,” he murmurs, trying to keep his voice soft. “I’m—I dunno why—“
Eijirou blinks, surprised at the hushed quality of Denki’s voice. He’s not sure what is happening when Denki leads him by the hand into an alley way with Katsuki following closely, not sure why the air has suddenly become thick with tension and desire. He gets a glimpse of Denki’s half-lidded eyes and parted lips under the street light before being pulled down into a deep kiss. Denki’s nose is cold and his mouth is warm, teeth nipping at Eijirou’s bottom lip when he backs away slightly to speak in a low voice.
“You don’t have to pretend with us, you know,” Denki says. “You can say what you want. And you can do what you want. We won’t think badly of you.”
Eijirou licks his lips, a breath caught in his throat and his stomach flip flopping in his belly. “What d’you—“ he starts. “What are you—oh, fuck—“
He cuts off and squeezes his eyes shut when he feels Denki’s hand slither down between his legs over his jeans, his cock jumping at the attention, his stomach clenching painfully because he’s full of water and food. Denki smiles at the reaction, nuzzling his nose into Kirishima’s jaw.
“This is—don’t, I gotta piss,“ Eijirou says, looking over at Katsuki whose expression is very bemused. “And we shouldn’t—“
“Why not? No one’s here,” Denki says, squeezing him through his jeans. “And if someone comes along and says something to me or Kats, let ‘em see who they’re messing with, right? My big, strong, mean—”
Eijirou feels a growl of approval rumble in his throat when Denki calls him mean. He doesn’t know why. All he knows is that they’re outside in an alley, that he’s just gotten out of a fight at a strip club, that Denki and Katsuki are egging him on, and he doesn’t care—he wants them now, he wants to tear everything apart. When Denki pulls him down for another kiss, he leans into it.
“Right, that’s right, I’ll always fight for you—“ Eijirou breathes hot into Denki’s ear, “you’re fucking mine, like hell I’d let some asshole mess with what’s mine.“
Denki lets out a surprised noise at this, a visible shiver up his spine when Eijirou grazes his lips down, down to the base of his neck to suck a large mark into his heated skin. It feels good to take him like this, to feel Denki warm and moaning against him, the taste of iron on his tongue as he sucks and slobbers. After a minute of it, Denki tries pull away from him, whining about hickies, but Eijirou ignores him because wants people to see the marks, wants Denki to be embarrassed and try to cover it up when he’s in the locker room with his co-workers and sidekicks. The thought of it sates the beast in Eijirou, and he hums deep and rumbly as he pins Denki against the wall to continue marking him up.
Then, Katsuki is suddenly there, tugging at Eijirou’s pants and boxers roughly so his clothing falls down to the dirty ground, maneuvering everyone out of their jackets to throw them into a heap in the corner. With the outer layers of clothing out of the way, Katsuki presses his chest against Eijirou’s back, his warm, damp hand wrapping around Eijirou to work him to full hardness.
The pleasure is sharp and spiky, the pain from holding his bladder cutting it something hot and tense. Eijirou feels his grip tighten around Denki’s warm torso, gasps into his throat as his high-pitched cries echo between the alley walls.
“Where d’you want us?” Katsuki snarls in his ear. “Tell me now—“
“On your knees,” Eijirou gasps, coming up for air and reaching back to grab the front of Katsuki’s shirt and jerk him around next to Denki against the wall. “On your fucking knees for me, come on—“
And as terrible at the command feels coming from Eijirou’s mouth, he can’t help the elation that swells in his chest at the sight of Katsuki and Denki dropping to the floor for him, their faces tipped up and tongues darting out to wet their lips almost in unison. He doesn’t even know what he’s gonna do with them like this, but Eijirou takes one second to marvel at how different they are for him—Denki’s neck littered with bruises, his gaze hazy and unfocused, Katsuki’s sharp and dangerous eyes scanning him like an obedient dog at attention.
“My pretty little things,” Eijirou says, his voice like gravel, his hands twitching down to cradle their chins between his fingers. “Open.”
Katsuki’s eyes flicker at this, his eagerness palpable as Eijirou watches him open his mouth and stick his tongue out. Denki does the same, his lips looking soft and pliant. Eijirou swallows down the urge to stick his fingers inside, instead taking his cock in his hand to work himself and wondering if he can do this with a full bladder and without embarrassing himself. The air is silent as a stone, Eijirou’s stomach tight and full, and he’s so distracted that he doesn’t notice the moment that Denki leans forward and slides his tongue under the head of his cock. Eijirou hisses at the touch, feels annoyance twinge in his chest and grabs Denki by a hank of his hair.
“Did I say you could move?“ he says, jerking Denki back.
Denki just moans at this, eyes glassy and pleading as Katsuki watches them closely.
“What a thirsty little whore,” Eijirou whispers, unable again to stop the mean words that leave his mouth as he holds himself.
Then, he suddenly gets a terrible idea.
“You want a drink, baby?” Eijirou says slowly, his lips curling in satisfaction as Denki nods instantly, a choked whine escaping his lips. Katsuki, still watching, waiting with his lips parted, raises a single eyebrow in understanding when Eijirou releases himself and threads a hand into his spiky hair.
“Say it—“ Eijirou gasps, pulling both of their faces together in front of his cock. “Say you’re mine—say you want me to—I’ll make sure no one else comes near you.“
And their response is a chorus of assent:
“Please, Daddy, please,” Denki cries desperately. “It’s okay, do it, I’m yours, I’m yours—“
“That’s it, Red, come on—“
Eijirou feels his cock twitch at being called “Daddy,” feels his breath catch at the way Katsuki’s blazing eyes stare hard at him, daring him to do what nice guys don’t usually ever dream of doing. His hands in tight, tense fists in their hair, their mouths open and eager, and just when he thinks he isn’t gonna do it, when he wants to collapse onto the ground with how overwhelmed he feels, he lets out a long groan and finally lets it all go.
He’s gasping, eyes wide, watching as he pisses over his boyfriends’ open mouths and chins. His dick jumps when he sees Denki fucking cup his hands to catch the excess, doesn’t stop Katsuki when he makes a grab for his cock to jerk him through it. And it all feels so fucking good, the combined relief, the satisfaction of seeing Denki and Katsuki just take it, the added pressure of Katsuki’s fingers around him.
Eijirou shudders violently as he stops pissing and starts coming abruptly, a wave of pleasure having him bent double, sticky white spurting over Denki’s already-dripping jaw. Denki laps at whatever lands near his lips, his cupped hands spilling whatever leftover piss there is onto his neck and chest.
Eijirou can’t handle it. He pounds a fist on the alley wall as Katsuki pushes forward to lick the head of his cock clean and Denki stares up at him, his mouth open and waiting as if Eijirou has more to give him.
“Shit,” Eijirou says, feeling wrung out. He looks down at the two of them crushed between the alley and his massive legs, panting at the sight of Katsuki’s feral grin and Denki’s glassy expression.
“Shit,” he repeats, hauling the two of them up and holding back a retch when he gets a whiff of his own reek. “I’m—sorry, was that—?“
“Calm down, Ei,” Katsuki says slowly, like a warning.
His eyes are on Denki, who clutches at Eijirou’s forearms and starts to shiver, his expression still a little vacant. Eijirou realizes that he doesn’t have time to apologize or make excuses. He brings Denki back down to the ground again and pulls him into his chest, holding tight like it’ll stop his quaking.
“You need more, hun?” he whispers as Katsuki sidles up behind them to brush Denki’s sweaty hair out of his forehead. When Denki shakes his head, Eijirou tightens his grip around him and turns to Katsuki to add, “What about you?”
“I’m alright. For now,” he says. He meets Eijirou’s eyes for a brief second before sniffing and backing away with a sour look on his face. “God, we stink. I know that was the point, but I’m pretty sure no one is coming near our asses on the train.”
Eijirou mumbles an apology, his face hot with embarrassment as Katsuki waves him off and tells him it’s fine because it was hot, that the train won’t be that crowded this late anyways, and that they should probably find a place to clean up when Denki feels like himself again. They don’t talk much after this, Eijirou alone with his still-turbulent thoughts as he tries to soothe Denki, silence permeating the alley before Denki eventually stirs in Eijirou’s arms and asks for his jacket. Katsuki helps, quickly stripping them all of their ruined bachelor party t-shirts, throwing them in a nearby dumpster, and picking their jackets up from the corner to cover themselves before they slowly make their way to the train station.
The trip home passes in a blur, Eijirou still wondering what the fuck that was all about—the way his anger flared, the things he did to Katsuki and Denki, the way they let him. And later on when they’re home and showered and in bed, Eijirou finally, finally gets to ask:
“Was that—are we okay? Was that too much?”
He’s sandwiched between Denki and Katsuki now, Denki’s head on his chest and Katsuki lying on his stomach next to them. Denki had been tired, his neck was still purple with all the hickies Eijirou gave him earlier, but he was acting normally. He hums at the question, threading his and Eijirou’s hands together over the covers.
“I think we’re okay. It was all really different and spontaneous, but I liked it. Did you?” Denki asks, peering up at Eijirou with a curious expression.
“I… think I did, too,” he says, squeezing Denki to his side. “I’m still. I’m really sorry, I feel like I don’t understand why I liked it though.”
“‘Don’t you just wanna go apeshit?’” Katsuki mumbles into his pillow.
Denki snorts, and Eijirou looks between the two of them, not understanding. “What? An ape?” he asks. “What d’you mean?”
“It’s a meme, dumbass.” Katsuki raises his head, adjusting the pillow under his neck and turning onto his side to face them. “It’s just like…. You’re so nice that sometimes you needa let loose.”
Eijirou feels his head spin. “Let loose? By getting in a fight? By peeing on—”
“Wait, wait, wait, stop that,” Denki says, slapping Eijirou chest and shushing Katsuki when he scoffs. “Okay, so the fight wasn’t the best, but the other stuff…” He trails off, his tipping his head up to the ceiling as if he’s thinking about how to say it best. “It’s not like you’re taking it out on us. You didn’t make us do anything we didn’t want, I don’t think. Like. When something bothers you, you can talk to us. And we’re there for you if you wanna feel in control in a sexy way, too. That’s all it is, right, Kats?”
Eijirou feels himself let go of a breath as Katsuki tilts his head at Denki and a smile crosses his face. He leans over Eijirou to kiss Denki’s nose before snuggling into Eijirou’s side with his pillow under his head.
“That’s all, Sparky,” he murmurs. Katsuki eyes flicker between the two of them before landing right on Eijirou. “Doesn’t have to be complicated.”
Eijirou nods, warm relief flooding through him as he takes in Katsuki’s calculated gaze and accepts a warm press of Denki’s lips on his own before Denki cuts the lights and they drift off to sleep together. For one more moment, he dwells on everything that happened that night, marveling at how Denki and Katsuki just accept him, even at his worst, even if he acts differently than the guy he thought he was. And even if it’s scary and wild and nothing like he sees himself, Eijirou thinks that he doesn’t have anything to worry about, as long as he has Katsuki and Denki by his side.