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I Want it All

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Sometimes Shouto wishes he could go back in time.


It’s not for any particularly grand reason.

He just wonders, occasionally, what his fifteen-year-old self would think of the life he lives now, some twelve years later.

Shouto isn’t above the truth; the look on his own face would be entertaining at the least.


“I vote Katsuki,” Eijirou says.

“You’re biased.”

“Well so are you!”

“I haven’t even given my argument yet,” Izuku huffs.

“Spare us the lecture, we already know you’re gonna’ say Half n’ Half.”

“No! Well – okay, yeah, but – I was gonna’ vote for you, Eijirou!”

Eijirou gasps and presses his hands to his cheeks. Katsuki sits upright in outrage.

 “What?! You think he has better tits than me?”

“Objectively, if we’re talking cup size-“

Shouto lights a flame off the tip of his finger and sighs, “I’m too high for this.”

“-He says, while taking the fattest rip known to man,” Eijirou continues. “Jesus Christ dude, how big are your lungs?”

Shouto sets the bong back in his lap and exhales, and Izuku shifts lazily against his side.

“Very big,” Izuku coos, and then makes a face like holy shit did I just say that?

Shouto snorts a laugh, and it makes him cough a little. Katsuki lifts an eyebrow and grins like a cat that’s found something particularly interesting.

“Is that right?”

“You put something else in that,” Izuku accuses, pointing at the bong.

“S’ just weed, darling,” Eijirou grins, and Shouto feels a strange flare of heat at the nickname. “But what a sight you make – if only the world knew their Number One was getting stoned right now.”

“No flash photography,” Izuku jokes.

“Honestly I thought you’d be a bigger stick in the mud about this.”

“Nah. Deku’s a loser but he ain’t a nark.”

“Thanks. But actually,” Izuku points, “I have a very well researched report I wrote on the decriminalization of weed, so remind me about it later.”

“It’s really long,” Shouto warns.

“Bet it is,” Eijirou flirts, looking Izuku up and down playfully, and Shouto has known him long enough to understand that Eijiriou’s default setting is Flirt, blazed or not. It used to bother him more than it does.   

This has been one of those weeks that just keep kicking. With the end of Izuku’s apartment lease, it was kind of a no-brainer to move Izuku in with him. Hero work has been non-stop, so between the recent move, the frequent hospital trips, and the flood of late-night reports, they were relieved to have an evening off together.

Shouto used to feel selfish on nights like these. He didn’t want to share Izuku with anyone else, preferring to horde Izuku to himself and suck on his mouth until it’s black and blue. Which – Shouto is still very taken to – but Eijirou invited them over, and Shouto isn’t nearly as annoyed by the married couple as he used to be. Actually, the annoyances are a rarity these days.

They’ve got a nice house. It’s roomy and lived in; Katsuki is playing music through the T.V., fiddling with his wedding ring while Eijirou toes into his thighs, sprawled across the couch as he smokes and there’s something homey about it, as alien as the feeling is.

All the pain, the broken bones, the childhood trauma and the bloody-nosed fights; years separated, years back together, years and years of knowing these people; Shouto didn’t know life could be like this. That he could love as much as he loves Izuku. That he could have – shit, friends like Katsuki and Eijirou.

It’s been a long road.


Izuku is cuddly by nature, but even more so when he’s high. Shouto surrendered his right hand hours ago, so Izuku is free to play with his fingers for as long as he’d like.

Katsuki is noticeably less irritable, but significantly more devious tonight. He grins,

“Aye Halfie, you never voted.”

“And I’m not going to.”

“Oi, you smoke my weed, you play my games, shithead.”

Shouto rolls his eyes, “Best body? My boyfriend, done.”

“Aww,” Izuku coos.

No, it was best tits,” Eijirou points. “Best body brings in an entirely different set of rules.”

“All of this is a bit subjective, isn’t it?” Izuku asks.

“We’d have to break it into categories.” Eijirou counts off on his pinkie, “Height, face, arms –“

“Shoulder to waist ratio,” Izuku adds.

“Oh yeah, add Dorito points to the board.”

“Dick size,” Katsuki offers, and Eijirou snorts.

“Well baby you’ve just got yourself a win there, don’t you?”

“Gross,” Shouto comments. “Someone’s overcompensating.”

“You wanna’ say that to my face, dickbag?”

There it is. Shouto smiles, and slips his hand away from Izuku’s to thread it through his curls.

“Shouto…” Izuku warns.

“Alright,” Shouto says. “You’re a stuffer.”

“I swear to god I will kill you—!” Katsuki explodes, but Eijirou sits up to pet across his face like a dog tamer.

“You tryna’ make him drop trou right now?” Eijirou laughs, “He’ll do it.”

“I’ll fuckin’ do it,” Katsuki echoes.

Shouto begins to hum as if he’s considering it, and Izuku breaks out giggling. He muffles his laugh into Shouto’s shoulder, and Eijirou beams, squishing his cheek up against Katsuki’s.

“Awww. What a cute laugh.”

Izuku begins to flush, and Shouto cups the back of Izuku’s neck almost protectively. The music has gotten a little muffled, but the room feels cozy, and Shouto brushes ice against the back of Izuku’s ears to cool him down.

They’re not this cuddly around their other friends (they do have common decency), but when it’s just Katsuki and Eijirou, they all relax a bit more. The flirting used to make him edgy, but Shouto has grown used to it by now.

Katsuki sighs, “This is definitely the gayest conversation we’ve ever had.”

“You started it!” Izuku accuses.

“You brought up the stupid mag!”

You posed shirtless for Cosmo,” Izuku counters, and Shouto feels pride in knowing that Izuku and Katsuki stand on equal ground. They’re years past the little first year that would cower at his hand – but Katsuki is years softer anyways.

“They ripped my shirt off and shoved me in front of a camera! I didn’t ask to be whored out to all of Japan.”

Eijirou flings an arm around Katsuki’s shoulders and snuggles up to him. They’ve been married for over two years – together for eight – and Shouto is still surprised at the way Katsuki just melts for Eijirou. How, even now, Katsuki turns his head and waits for Eijirou to occupy all the little spaces of his crooked black heart. 

“Hey,” Izuku laughs, hands coming up in defense, “I thought it looked good, that’s all I was saying. Right Shouto?”

He doesn’t comment, but Eijirou purrs, “Damn right he did.”

“It’s fuckin’ stupid,” Katsuki crosses his arms. “I’m done with all the publicity horseshit. My manager can kiss my ass.”

Shouto points in an I’m with you kind of way, and Katsuki nods in acknowledgement.

“Hey, the teens need somethin’ to jack off to,” Eijirou offers, and Katsuki shoves him off so fast Eijirou almost falls off the couch.

“You make me sick.”

“Hahaha- come on!” Eijirou laughs, sitting back up. “Don’t act like you didn’t jerk it to that old burlesque All Might spread– you know the one!”

Shouto does know the one, and judging from Izuku’s rapid increase in temperature, so does he.

Izuku covers his face with his hands and groans.

“Oh god.”

“I’m filing for a divorce,” Katsuki deadpans.

“Come on Zuku, back me up here!”

“He’s my mentor,” Izuku whines.

Eijirou scoffs, “And you had like, thirty million posters of him in your room. Next?”

“That spread was the gay rite of passage,” Shouto says, patting Izuku’s hair. “I think everyone did it.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Katsuki groans, in a pained kind of tone that he only gets when he knows Eijirou has a point.

“Damn dude, Shouto is the only one here not living in denial! So not manly.”

“Give me that,” Izuku points to the bong, and uses Shouto’s left hand to light the bottom and take a hit. Eijirou’s face is red from laughing. Shouto would laugh too, but watching Izuku breathe smoke out of his nose is stupidly hot.

Shouto must not be the only one who thinks so, because the room simmers down. Izuku tips his head back against Shouto’s arm and breathes out again, straight up to the ceiling, and Shouto swallows as Izuku sighs a breathy “Dammit Eijirou.” It’s meant to be more of a reprimand, but the scratch of his throat makes it sound husky, and Shouto feels the hair on his arms stand on end.

He’s seen Izuku in every position possible. Bent over his lap, up against the shower wall, on his knees for so long that the carpet burned for weeks – and Shouto is still so whipped by every small, miniscule thing Izuku does.

Shouto can feel Katsuki and Eijirou watching. They’ve gone quiet, Eijirou back in Katsuki’s personal bubble, lazy and comfortable in their own home – but Shouto is a veteran in scaring off the unwanted stares of others, glaring down flirtatious and malicious looks alike – and yet Shouto doesn’t move.


Shouto knows Izuku is a steal. There’s something…satisfying in knowing someone else sees it too.

Eijirou chews on his inner cheek, gaze looking to the T.V. to appear casual, but nothing is playing. Izuku senses the silence and begins another round of small talk.

“Do you guys work tomorrow?”

“No,” Katsuki answers flatly.

“Just a morning shift,” Eijirou says.  

Another spurt of silence. Shouto’s heart is beating quickly, and he can’t understand why. Izuku turns his nose up to meet Shouto’s eyes, and Shouto waits for the you ready to go? that usually follows the hazy look, but Eijirous voice breaks the silence.

“Hey, so...can we ask you guys a question?”

They turn to look at him. Eijirou’s lazily plays with Katsuki’s ring, and flops his head against his shoulder. Katsuki is stiff, so he appears to know what’s coming.

Izuku perks, “Yeah?”

“If the answer is no, then we can pretend I never asked,” Eijirou grins. “But – haha, um –“  

“Ei wants to watch you guys fuck,” Katsuki deadpans, and it rips through the room like a chainsaw.







Shouto has never sobered up so fast in his life.





Izuku’s jaw drops. The room goes dead silent, and then explodes again.


“We!” Eijirou corrects, angrily elbowing Katsuki in the side. “You brought it up!”

“Well you don’t shut up about it!”

Katsuki and Eijirou begin to bicker, Izuku goes horribly still, (a sign that Shouto knows as; I am astral projecting into another plane of existence thank you goodbye), and Shouto’s patience withers and dies.

 “Hey, shut up,” Shouto snaps, the room going quiet.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Katsuki barks.

“Is this a joke?” Izuku starts, and Shouto’s heart breaks a little from the guarded tone in his voice.

“Not at all!” Eijirou says, covering Katsuki’s mouth. “We’re totally serious.”

Eijirou yips as Katsuki bites his hand. Shouto and Izuku share a bewildered look.


“Okay, okay,” Eijirou rubs his sore hand. “Like. I dunno’ If I’m just a really bad flirt- “

“You are,” Shouto says, earning a glare from Katsuki.

“-but like, I think we’ve been super obvious that we think you’re both hot,” Eijirou says.

“We?” Izuku offers, looking to Katsuki, who snarls in reply.

“Your ears clogged, dipshit?” Katsuki huffs. “Course you’re hot. Fucked my ass over coming back from America looking like that, fuck you, by the way, for that shirt,” Katsuki looks to Shouto. Shouto smirks back.

“We just wanna’ watch,” Eijirou interrupts quickly, before Shouto can light Katsuki’s ass on fire. “No strings. It’d be sexy as hell and you know it.”

Shouto’s opens his mouth to retaliate, and is secretly horrified to find himself speechless. It should be the easiest answer in the world. The premise alone should disgust him.


Hell no.



Why is his heart flipping in his chest? Who put the butterflies in there?



Izuku is uncharacteristically quiet. Shouto looks to him, and his eyes are wide and open and a reflection of the weird pit Shouto feels in his own chest.

“If you’re gonna’ say no, just do it and be done with this,” Katsuki barks.

His neck is red. Holy shit, he’s nervous.  

Shouto opens his mouth again, but it’s Izuku that interrupts.

“Give us a second!” He pipes, and suddenly Shouto is being dragged off the couch, down the hall and into the bathroom.

Shouto lets out a breath as his back hits the counter. The lights turn on, and he has to blink away the sting as Izuku slams the door shut.

“What the fuck,” Shouto breathes.

Izuku bites his lip and runs a hand through his hair. He looks down, sideways, and then up at Shouto’s face.

“They’re serious. They’re like, actually serious.”

You’re serious,” Shouto realizes, heart spiking into his throat. “Izuku… do you really want to –“

Izuku covers his mouth quickly. Shouto bites his tongue, and Izuku slips his hand down to gently cup the side of his neck. His eyes are sparkly and big and so gorgeous, Shouto could just swim in them. Curly hair and a buzzed undercut, littered freckles, tan skin; his gaze drops down to the low V-neck Izuku is wearing and okay, stop.

“You first,” Izuku breathes. “If you’re horrified by all this we can – they said we can just pretend they never asked.”

“But you’re asking,” Shouto states. He runs his thumb along the shaved side of Izuku’s hair.

Izuku flushes, but he holds Shouto’s gaze. Determination becomes him, shoulders squared and unmoving. He takes a deep breath and lets it go.


Shouto swallows the heat in his mouth. He feels his lip curl upwards, and he dips his head to press a kiss against Izuku’s cheek. Izuku’s skin is soft and warm against his own. Shouto drops his voice.

“Have you thought about this before?”

Izuku’s hands squeeze into his hips.

“No. Maybe.”

Shouto drags his mouth down to the crook of Izuku’s neck, lightly tasting the sweat there.

“You want our friends to watch me fuck you?”

Izuku sighs, rolling his head to the side.

“Y-Yeah.” His fingers dig strong, always a reminder of his strength. “Only if you want to.”


How did they get here?


Years of meeting up at bars. Passing out on borrowed couches. Back to back in battle. Mindless flirting over drinks, bickering at dinner – speaking at their wedding, sitting at hospital bedsides -

Is Shouto surprised?




Shouto kisses Izuku’s mouth, hot and deep so Izuku can really know how he feels. He trusts Izuku more than anyone in the world. And maybe, he trusts Eijirou and Katsuki just as much as Izuku. (A big maybe).

Izuku sighs into his kiss, licks against him and complains when Shouto moves away to answer. His voice comes out rasped.

“Only I’m allowed to touch you.”

Izuku’s smile consumes him.

“God I love you,” Izuku says. He throws open the door and calls, “You two got lube?”

“That’s a stupid fucking question,” Katsuki says, just as Eijirou beams, “What flavor do you like?”



It’s awkward for all of five seconds, before Izuku crawls on the bed and tosses off his shirt, and Eijirou begins to chant; “Fuck yeah! Fuck yeah! Fuck yeah!”

“Oh my goodness,” Izuku laughs, turning his head to allow Shouto to kiss into his neck. “Your bed is huge.”

“It’s not the only thing that’s huge,” Eijirou winks, and then yips as Katsuki pinches him. “My heart! I was gonna’ say my heart!”

“Is this going on the whole time?” Shouto glares, hand flat against Izuku’s stomach as he laughs.

“Probably,” Katsuki pulls Eijirou into his lap. There’s a small couch pushed up against the adjacent wall. It looks like it’s mostly used for dressing, but Eijirou and Katsuki are able to squish. Katsuki grins, “What, can’t get it up around this loudmouth?” He sticks his thumb in Eijirou’s mouth and shows off his shark teeth.

Shouto rolls his eyes and settles between Izuku’s spread legs.

“I’m going to fuck up your bed.”

“Don’t,” Katsuki glares.

“Please and thank you,” Eijirou says. “My god Izuku, I could just bite those legs.”

Izuku flushes a little, and Shouto feels a thrum of competitiveness, determined to draw Izuku’s attention back to him. Shouto leans forwards and kisses Izuku closed mouthed and doesn’t wait long for Izuku to part his lips and lick across his tongue. It never fails to turn his world upside down.

They’ve done this half a million times, so his body runs on fuzzy autopilot. Shouto expected more embarrassed resistance from Izuku – but he sighs into his mouth, cards his hands into Shouto’s hair and moans when Katsuki says, “Fucking hell.”

It’s like a bubble has popped. All the garbage they’ve been keeping behind their teeth comes spilling out, and Shouto feels drowned in it. Do friends do this? Is this normal?

“Take your pants off,” Eijirou calls.

“Shut up,” Shouto snaps, breath catching when Izuku moves to kiss up to his throat. “Or we’re walking.”

“I said I wanted to watch you guys fuck, not play lesbian princess and rub noses.”

“Package deal,” Izuku laughs. He turns Shouto’s jaw towards the couple on the couch. “Come on, you wouldn’t kiss this?”

“Not the point,” Katsuki says, and Shouto feels a sudden heat so quickly, he has to tip his head to breathe out steam. Izuku surges to his mouth, and Shouto flinches a little, worried of burning him – but Izuku is needy, the kiss wet and fast and oh, Shouto realizes. This might be more of a turn on than he’d realized.

The lights are low, the bed is foreign, but Izuku’s hands are familiar, pulling at his shirt and ripping out his belt, and red eyes scorch through him, heavy and tingly on the back of his neck.

Shouto tugs Izuku’s pants off in one go – and Izuku looks up at him through long eyelashes and red cheeks, and Shouto feels his stomach flip when Eijirou makes a gasping sound.

 “Shit dude,” Eijirou sighs to Katsuki. “They’re so pretty. I’m gonna’ jack off to this until I die.”   

“You guys are freaks,” Shouto tells them.

Katsuki hums an agreement. To Shouto or Eijirou, he’s not sure.

“Let he who is without kink cast the first shame,” Eijirou shrugs.

“So it’s about the porn,” Izuku hums, fingers dipping into Shouto’s underwear.

“It’s about a lot of things,” Katsuki says, and Shouto is so shockingly turned on, he feels like he can’t breathe.

Izuku ignites under him, groaning as he rolls his hips up into his lap, and Shouto burns and freezes with a sudden desire to show him off like a prize. Shouto skims his hands down Izuku’s thighs, and bites down on his lip. He knows this body by heart; all the gorgeous ins and outs, every dip and crevice and scar.

They’ve come a long way for Izuku to show off his body like this. Shouto isn’t sure if he’s proud or possessive or maybe both. He can read Izuku’s body language – he’s curling in on himself, red blushing down his firm chest, and Shouto is worried he might be having second thoughts.

“Hey baby,” Shouto whispers, coming up to meet his mouth. “You don’t have to do this.”

Izuku looks to him – and Shouto realizes that he’s not flushing from embarrassment. He’s hard. Like, really hard. Shouto’s mouth waters.

“No! S-Sorry, I’m – just…” Izuku mumbles, shifting his legs. “Shit.”

Shouto flicks his gaze to the couple on the couch. Katsuki lifts a brow, and Eijirou’s gaze is heavy and impatient.   

The four top heroes in the world. This should be wrong.  

Shouto’s head is full, senses heightened and dulled all at once. It shouldn’t be sexy, it shouldn’t be a turn on – but Izuku’s breath is already labored, and seeing him like this has Shouto so tense he could crack down the middle.

“Alright,” Shouto mumbles, seeking permission from Izuku’s eyes. “If they want a show, let’s give them a show.”

Izuku’s eyes glaze over with glee. His lip quirks up, Shouto rolls to his back, and Izuku straddles him fast, willing to let Shouto grab him by the ass and show him off.

Shouto meets their eyes over Izuku’s shoulder and grins, running his dry index finger along Izuku’s hole and feeling Izuku moan when he sinks in.

 “Oh you rat bastards,” Katsuki barks. “You guys fucked before you came here.”

“Yup,” Izuku says, catching the bottle of lube Eijirou tosses him. “So watch how it’s done!”

Shouto breathes another mouthful of steam over his shoulder, and Izuku grins into his neck.

“Great, they’re gettin’ cocky.”

“Took ‘em long enough, right?”

“Ooh, strawberry flavored.”



The joking nature of the room dwindles the second Izuku sinks down on Shouto’s cock, tips his head back, and moans like a pornstar – and Eijirou mimics the sound, slapping a hand over his mouth.


It’s a drug. Eijirou with his knees under his chin, gripping Katsuki by the neck and breathing heavy. They’ve gone uncharacteristically silent, and Shouto feels pride as Izuku rises up, rolls his hips and slams back down.

Shouto is so turned on he can hardly see straight, so he has to prod Izuku by the thighs when he starts to get too close.  He’s not sure if he’s ever seen Izuku like this – needy and wanting and burning to the touch.

“Feels good babe,” Izuku tells him, riding slower, “F-feels, ah Shouto – “  

Fuck, he’s too much.

Shouto pulls Izuku up and turns him around into reverse cowgirl. Izuku squeaks, body tensing, and Shouto watches Katsuki bite right into his thumb as Izuku sinks back down and cries.

“Tell them,” Shouto murmurs.

They’re hot and sweaty, high as all fuck and a mess, but it’s somehow the sexiest thing Shouto has ever experienced; Izuku rising up on thick thighs, shakily slamming back down and whining, “It – ah –

Eijirou grins shark-like, “Yeah, baby? You can say it, I won’t tell no one, beautiful.”  

God, these are their friends. But Shouto watches Katsuki palm into Eijirou’s lap, and it’s like he’s been shocked with a cow prodder.


They’re into it.  


Izuku sucks in air, cock hitting his stomach lewdly as he rides.

“D-Don’t make fun of me.”

“Who’s makin fun?” Katsuki asks lazily – and his tone is rough and full of gravel. “That’s a pretty thick seat you’ve got there, De-ku.

Izuku drops his head back against Shouto’s shoulder and moans. Shouto’s hands go so heated, he nearly burns him.

“Careful,” Shouto warns, meeting Katsuki’s stare.

“Is th-this what you wanted?” Izuku asks, daring to look Eijirou and Katsuki in the eye, and the confidence is a turn on, yeah. Shouto holds him by the waist a little too tightly.

“So hot baby,” Eijirou tells. “Keep riding like that, hell yeah, you got the legs for it, ‘Zuku.”

Katsuki shrugs, “Eh, it’s what I expected.” Eijirou elbows Katsuki for the teasing, and Izuku huffs, reaching between his legs to work himself in hand.

Shouto feels possessed. Charged from the way Eijirou and Katsuki stare so hungry. He’s boiling alive, the emotions so muddled and messy.

Yes. Look at him. Look at how beautiful he is.

He wants –

Shouto pushes Izuku by the shoulder. He forces him face down towards the foot of the bed, now close enough to reach Katsuki and Eijirou on the couch. The surprised look on their faces is well worth the way Izuku clenches down around him and cries as Shouto slams back in, skin slapping skin.


What am I doing?


Shouto secures a hand at the back of Izuku’s neck, just the way he likes.


What am I doing?


He feels short of breath as he fucks into him, pace rapid and brutal as he drives dangerously closer to the edge.


God, what the hell am I doing?


Izuku moans into his arms, arches back into him and cries his name. Eijirou’s hands twitch in his lap. Katsuki full on rips off his belt and shoves down his jeans.


Fuck –


It’s hot, it’s hot, it’s –

Steam falls out of Shouto’s mouth, desperate to keep a hold of himself. There’s some chorus of sound that he can’t comprehend.

Izuku is pushed further towards the edge of the bed. He’s beautiful, he’s perfect, he’s close enough to reach Eijirou and kiss him –

The mental picture is like a punch to the gut. Shouto’s cock throbs so hard, he has to blink away the white spots.

Izuku’s head snaps up and his nails scratch on the bedspread and Eijirou breaks the rule. He jerks forward to hold Izuku’s hand, and Izuku’s cheek squishes into his arm as he keens, watery eyes gazing to the party on the couch.

Eijirou overflows like a dam, an onslaught of I’ve got you baby, look at you sweetheart, aren’t you just gorgeous – and that’s it.

He feels Izuku has he comes, sees him grip Eijirou’s hand tight, hears him beg,

“Ei- ahh, K-Kacchan--”

Katsuki gasps.

Shouto’s hand ices over as he comes without warning. Izuku begs under him, and Shouto feels so dizzy, so lost he could just slip into the floor.

Those eyes are red, and they burn like the skin under his palms.



The first thing Shouto sees is the freezer-burn on Izuku’s neck.

It’s the shape of his palm, and Shouto’s stomach dips lower and lower and lower as more memories filter in through his mind.


They’re back home. It’s Shouto’s – their – apartment; it’s still not fully unpacked, boxes littered here and there, some new posters hung on the wall, his familiar blue curtains blowing open at the window.


Shouto remembers everything. It prickles at his neck, tugs at his stomach and his heart – because it was wrong.


And when Izuku’s eyes open, he knows he remembers it too. Izuku tenses in his arms, supple and soft to iron stiff in seconds.

“Um,” Izuku breathes.

“Morning,” Shouto tries.

The usual slow Sunday morning is cut abruptly as Izuku all but throws off the covers, and flies into the bathroom. Shouto’s heart falls into his stomach. He presses his face into his palms and sighs.

Shouto can feel his heartbeat in his hands. He listens to the rushing water, the open shut of the door, the rummaging in the kitchen. He lays there in self-pity, and then sits upright, breathing out an icy breath.

Alright, adult time.

Shouto steps out of bed and into the living area. Izuku is fumbling around the kitchen nervously. He knows where all the pots and pans are; all the cups, the utensils – they’ve been living together more than apart, and Shouto is so relieved to finally have him be here, that he can’t allow this strange mood any longer.

Izuku is scuffling with the cheese grater when Shouto wraps his arms around him from behind.

“Stop,” Shouto tells him.

“Oh,” Izuku inhales. “Um, h-hi. I was just – you hungry? I think we have enough eggs for omelets but I know you like extra tomatoes and we –“

“So we’re acting like nothing happened,” Shouto observes. Izuku deflates.


Shouto cuts straight to the point.

“Do you regret it?”

The kitchen tile is cold against his feet. Izuku is deathly still.

“…Let’s eat first.”

“No,” Shouto turns him, and holds Izuku by the arms. “Answer my question.” Izuku folds a little, and Shouto’s heart squeezes. He gently cups Izuku’s face and adds, “Please, love.”

“No,” Izuku says. Shouto blinks, and Izuku clarifies, “Um. I don’t regret it.” His voice chokes, and Izuku looks down at his feet in shame, “I-I’m sorry, Shouto I’m –“ Izuku glances up with tears in his eyes. “P-Please don’t – I can’t…”

“Why are you sorry?” Shouto frowns, swiping a thumb along his cheek. “You enjoyed yourself. It’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“I know you – you don’t like doing stuff like that and, and I feel like – I might’ve… ah god, Shouto!” Izuku cries, planting his face into Shouto’s chest. “I’d do anything to keep you!”

Shouto is fluent at Izuku-language by now. He’s muttering senselessly into his shoulder, and Shouto combs through the top of his hair and takes a moment to think.


“You think I was peer pressured into having sex with you in front of our friends?”

“D-Don’t say it like that…”

“I don’t do things I don’t want to,” Shouto says plainly. He can hear Izuku’s smile in his voice.

“Sounds like someone else I know.”

“If you enjoyed it, then that’s a good thing.” Shouto bites his lip and pulls back to try and meet Izuku’s pretty eyes. “I liked seeing you like that.”

Izuku’s gaze wavers. He doesn’t blush, but he nervously curls his hand in the back of Shouto’s shirt.

“I think…I liked it too much.”

“Do you –“ Shouto starts, and then clamps his jaw shut with a snap. Izuku can read him like a book. He narrows his eyes.

“Do I what?”


“Shouto,” Izuku hugs him tight.

Shouto runs his tongue along the back of his teeth. He could let it go. They could move on – accept it as a great night and be back to normal by tomorrow. Everyone got off, it happens sometimes, just a single night among 364 other ones.

Well, it’s not like their life is normal anyways.

“Do you like them?”

Izuku tenses. Shouto holds him tight so he won’t run.

“Babe,” Izuku’s voice goes wobbly. “I love you more than anyone in the world.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“It’s – I,” Izuku’s voice goes raw. “ know I’d choose you, a million times I’d choose you.”

“You’re not an exhibitionist,” Shouto tells. “If it was that, I would have known by now. But it wasn’t, right?” Shouto breathes him in – pine and mint and musk. Heart beating, he says, “You liked it because it was them watching.”

“It’s nothing!” Izuku stammers, yanking to pull out of his arms. “I – I’ll get over it, Shouto please believe me, I-“

“Do I look mad?” Shouto asks. Izuku freezes, and his butt hits the counter.


It’s obvious that Shouto is no good at this. He prefers to shove all his emotions down and sit on them until he dies. But he’s learned that maybe, by telling someone the way you feel, good things can come after.

“The thought of anyone else touching you makes me sick,” Shouto says. Izuku flinches, and then nods in acceptance, but Shouto frowns – unfinished. “But not with them.”

Izuku nods again, and then freezes.

“Wait, what?”

Shouto shrugs.

“I thought about them kissing you and… I liked it.” Shouto bridges the gap between them once more, holding Izuku by the jaw and silently preening when he leans into his palm. “We’ve all got history.”

“So what if…they wanted to do it again?”  

 “I guess we’d figure it out then, right?”

 He finds it improbable. It was likely a one-time thing, and he’s not sure why that fact unsettles him so.

“Well…it might be sooner than we thought,” Izuku mumbles, and pulls his phone out of his sweatpants pocket. Shouto blinks a few times to adjust to the light and reads the texts still unopened on his lock screen.

> Hey man! Last night was like a fucken dream dude. Do u guys wanna meet up 4 dinner? To talk?

> If not thats cool cool cool

> Send an octopus emoji if you want to pretend that never happened


Shouto snorts.

“My petrol shift is only ten to six?” Izuku tries. Shouto offers a short smile, and picks him up by the thighs to set him on the counter.

“Great. Then we’ve got an hour.”

“Haha – Shouto! Really?”

“What?” Shouto kisses him, hands on his outer thighs. “Would you rather I was Katsuki?”

Izuku’s breath catches. He swallows, and his eyelashes dip down and up.

“No,” he smiles. “I wish it was all of you.”

Shouto isn’t well versed in this kind of stuff, but the mental picture is almost too much right now. Just being in the same room just about spun his head off his shoulders. Watching Eijirou and Katsuki touch Izuku might make him pop.

(He can’t think past that. It’s too much.)

“Do you think they want to?” Shouto asks.

Izuku giggles, “Guess we’ll find out, right?” Shouto’s heart feels light. Izuku smiles into his mouth, so bubbly and perfect. “Damn, I love you. I love that we can talk about this kind of stuff.”

Izuku could do a lot of things to him, Shouto thinks. He’d forgive a lot of bad things. A lot of stuff he shouldn’t forgive. But he knows Izuku would never hurt him, and for some odd reason, this is something that has his curiosity too. Shouto wonders how long Izuku has been sitting on this.

“It’s going to take a lot more than that if you’re trying to shake me,” Shouto teases.

“Guess I’ll keep trying,” Izuku sighs, and then giggles when Shouto bites into his neck as a reprimand.



Katsuki texts them the location of the restaurant, and they show up a couple minutes late due to a last minute scuffle Izuku ran into on patrol.

His cheeks are bruised and his hair is still damp, and Shouto resists kissing the lights out of him in order to still make dinner at a sensible time.

Izuku fidgets in the passenger seat, and Shouto feels his own nerves churn as he drives. He can count on one hand how many times he’s been nervous to hang out with Katsuki and Eijirou, and that hand is a fist, because it’s zero.

Dammit, get it together.


It’s nothing fancy; just a ramen place in the blue district. Katsuki and Eijirou are already eating eggrolls and talking over the little candle in the booth, and Shouto is unsurprised when Katsuki turns and says,

“Yer late.”

“Yeeeah that was my bad,” Izuku grins as Eijirou stands up to give him a bro hug. Shouto claps his hand in a greeting, and nods a hello towards Katsuki.

“What happened?”

“Errr, saw a bank robbery on my way back to the hero firm.”

“What bad luck!” Eijirou laughs as he sits– and it’s loud to cover his nerves, and it does something to settle Shouto’s own butterflies. “Robbing a bank in front of the number one hero, sucks for them.”

“Someone tried to mug me a couple weeks ago,” Katsuki says, wordlessly offering Izuku an eggroll. Izuku takes it, and Katsuki continues, “Never laughed that hard in my fucking life.”

Izuku laughs, “Wow. I can’t imagine seeing someone like Kacchan and thinking yeah, I’ll rob that guy.”

Shouto snorts, and fiddles with the flame on the table.

“You sayin’ I look scary?” Katsuki scoffs. “Tch, good.”

The waitress comes by to ask for their drink preferences. It puts a fork right in their small talk, and Shouto is at a loss for words as she walks away.

Eijirou scratches at his arm. Katsuki is watching the game up at the bar, and Shouto can feel Izuku radiating nervous energy in droves.

“So umm,” Eijirou grins, “I’m glad we’re like, cool. Right?”

Ah, so we are going to talk about this.

“Y-Yeah, I mean, I had a good time,” Izuku laughs.

“Sure hope so, you’re the one that got fucked stupid,” Katsuki says, uncaring of any of the booths around them. Shouto coughs into his hand, and Izuku chews on his thumbnail.

“Stop that,” Eijirou scolds. “That’s not why we’re here.”

Izuku raises an eyebrow, “Why are we here?”

Eijirou shrinks a little, and Katsuki pointedly looks elsewhere.

“We just wanted to…um…apologize? Arghh,” Eijirou scrubs a hand through his hair. “Last night was like, so dope – but I feel like we went about it all wrong, you know? So I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Katsuki says outright. “I might’ve been stoned, but I sure as shit know that was hot.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“What, you got complaints, Halfie?”

“Nah,” Shouto says. “But you obviously do.”

Eijirou grins, “Stop reading me.”

“Stop being obvious.”

“Okay okay. What iffff,” Eijirou drawls, “We did something like that again, except there wasn’t a no touching rule. Yes, no, maybe?”

Izuku looks at Shouto, and there’s a gleam in his eye.

“Definitely a yes,” Izuku says.

“What, is your sex life that dull?” Shouto then teases.

 “You bitch, this has nothing to do with – wait what?” Katsuki stops, and the stunned look on his face is amazing. “Yes?”

“We kind of talked it over,” Izuku explains. “But um, we just gotta’ know -- is this casual?”

“It doesn’t have to be!” Eijirou says a little too loud, and then slouches back down when Katsuki raises an eyebrow at him. “Err- I mean, no. Yes? Like, I dunno’ man. We’ve all been dicking around for so long, like – ‘Zuku used to give me boners in gym every day and Shouto was my sexual awakening freshman year –“

“Yeah,” Izuku nods like he can relate. Shouto shoots him a look, and Eijirou barrels on.

“- don’t you think it just makes sense? We’re all adults here.”

“You’re in on this?” Shouto asks Katsuki.

Katsuki shrugs and stuffs an eggroll in his mouth.

“Social norms are made up, aliens are real and nothing matters. I already married the only fuck I care about and you two ain’t so bad so, why not?”

Shouto doesn’t know how to feel. Katsuki and Eijirou’s interest in Izuku is something he can comprehend, because Izuku is the sun and the stars and the moon itself – but the idea that their interest extends to him too? Doesn’t it all sound a little fake?

He doesn’t need to wax poetic. Yeah, Eijirou and Katsuki are incredibly attractive. They’re all lean muscle and trained instinct, all scars and sharp teeth and wild hair. You can’t escape the energy they bring in a room, and you gravitate towards them whether you like it or not. Shouto never needed their validation, never needed their attention, but he’s a little horrified to find himself seeking it out sometimes anyways.  

It’s not a thought Shouto has allowed himself to explore, because he had Izuku, and he was more than content with that. But Eijirou and Katsuki are putting themselves out there, and Shouto is beginning to wonder all the what ifs.

Eijirou shifts and chews on his straw, poking little holes in the plastic.

“Soooo, don’t leave us hanging, dudes. Thoughts?”

“Stop callin’ em dude if you’re tryna’ get them in bed with you,” Katsuki scowls.

“I…” Izuku starts, wringing his hands. “Actually uh, Eijirou, I had a crush on you – um, back when we were freshman.”

“Me?!” Eijirou points. “You liked me?!”

“I liked a couple of people!” Izuku flushes. “I dunno’ – y-you were so nice and um, anyways. You and Kacchan started dating as second years and I just kinda’ pushed it out of my head until recently.”

Katsuki gets a strange look on his face. Izuku and Katsuki have a very long-winded and dangerous history, but everyone knows their rivalry dipped into something more, once upon a time. Shouto had asked about it once.


“No,” Izuku said. “We didn’t understand ourselves. We kissed once, but it was hurtful and mean and both of our faults.” Izuku had laughed, “He found his soulmate anyways, so what does it matter?”


It kind of matters now, Shouto thinks.


Eijirou elbows Katsuki, who sighs in frustration.

“Knock it off! Ugh, if you’re not – shit. Okay, if we’re already talkin’ about this touchy feely garbage, then fine. Deku, if you don’t want me in the room, I get it. Ei and I are flexible.”

“What?” Izuku frowns. “Why would I – Jesus, Kacchan, we’re past that.”

“I know! I just had to say it, alright? Shut up.” Katsuki crosses his arms and glares at Shouto, “You’ve been too quiet.”

Shouto hums. He beckons the flame up a little, and smooths it back down.

“Could be fun,” he says. “This.”

“It’s just us, right?” Izuku tries. “No big deal?”

Shouto smiles when he feels fingers thread in his own.

“Damn, what are we now, a couple of swingers?”

Eijirou grins like he didn’t think he’d get this far. He slaps Katsuki’s thigh, “And you thought they’d never say yes!”

“I never said that!” Katsuki snaps. “I said when pigs fly.

“I don’t see any pigs,” Izuku teases.

“Hand me the pork off your ramen and we’ll see if I can blast it through the window,” Katsuki grins.

“Let’s not,” Shouto says. “I actually like eating here. I’d like to return some day.”

Eijirou pauses halfway to lifting the pork off his bowl, and purses his lips like he didn’t just get caught in the act. Izuku laughs and snickers into his arm, Katsuki kicks him from under the table, and Shouto feels a weight lift that he didn’t know he was carrying.



“Is this a date?” Izuku asks, swaying back and forth as Eijirou waddles him through the parking lot, arm in arm. “Did we just go on a four-way date?”

“No, we just sat at a candlelight dinner and I paid for your food – yes it was a date, stupid,” Katsuki scowls. Eijirou laughs and continues to coddle Izuku as they walk, and Shouto is adjusting to the sight of someone else’s arm wrapped around him.

The feeling isn’t…bad. Shouto knows jealousy like he knows the scar on his face, but it’s a different kind of burn. Eijirou bonks their heads together, Izuku winces as he laughs, a hand coming up to shove Eijirou away, and the casualness pools something in his stomach – something warm.

Izuku looks back to him with a smile. Shouto smiles back.

Katsuki clears his throat and shoves his hands in his pockets. Eijirou and Izuku have already walked ahead, and Shouto turns to look at Katsuki’s profile.

“You’re really okay with this?” Katsuki asks gruffly.

“Aww, you’re concerned.”

“I’ll blow your ass to Canada if you don’t cut the attitude.”

Shouto eyes him, and settles his hands in his own pockets.

“Izuku has a big heart. I want him to be happy.”

“I ain’t talkin’ about the nerd, I’m talkin’ about you,” Katsuki snaps. “If you’re not cool with this then I’m shuttin’ it down.”

Surprised, Shouto nearly stops walking.


Katsuki scoffs, “You really think I’d be okay with comin’ between you and Deku? Fuck that, took ya’ll long enough as it is.”

“We’re not so fragile,” Shouto decides. He watches Eijirou tug on Izuku’s back pocket as he teases, and Izuku sticks out his tongue in a childish manner, and it makes him smile. “It’s fine anyways.”


“Yeah.” Shouto fiddles with the keys in his pockets. “You really like him like that?”

“Shut up. I’m not that big of a dick anymore.”

“Just saying. You guys act like brothers.”

Katsuki scrunches up his nose and says, “It’s complicated.”

Yeah, guess you could say that.

Eijirou and Izuku are talking against Shouto’s car. Eijirou crowds Izuku up against the door as Shouto and Katsuki approach.

“Fancy shmancy car you got here,” Eijirou teases. He towers over Izuku – not as much as Shouto, but he’s stockier, a little moreso than Katsuki. Eijirou grins and plants his hands on either side of Izuku. “Man, I’d love to be fucked in this thing.”

“It wasn’t quite like that,” Shouto comments, earning a devilish grin from Katsuki.

“Oh yeah? What was it then?”

“Ah,” Izuku bites his lip, repressing a smile. “It was more like…” Izuku turns to face the hood and bend over, and Eijirou lets out a whistle.

“Oh what a babe, what do I even do with you,” Eijirou coos, playfully slotting his hips against Izuku’s butt. He turns to Shouto again and flirts, “I’d pay plenty to see you naked over this beaut.”

Shouto is not mentally prepared to handle Eijirou’s flirting. He’s more absorbed in Katsuki moving to Izuku’s other side, cocking his head as Izuku turns back around and sits on the hood.

“Tone it down, Ei,” Katsuki says.

“I think he’s cute,” Izuku tells.

“Can I kiss ‘em?” Eijirou asks, looking between Katsuki and Shouto. “Can I please?”

“Don’t know,” Shouto says airily. “Ask him.”

Izuku is adorably pink, but he gives Shouto a very deep and appreciative look.

“Can I kiss you?” Eijirou asks, and Izuku lowers his eyes and hums sultry, and Shouto feels his heart pull out of his chest.

“Maybe if you’re nice…”

“I can be so nice, sweetheart,” Eijirou beams, and fits his mouth against Izuku’s. Shouto waits for the world to crush him, waits for his heart to break, waits for time to stop; but the universe doesn’t end. Eijirou kisses Izuku sweet, gently moving with firm intent, and Shouto feels the bottom of his stomach drop out, because it’s kind of beautiful.

“Mind the teeth,” Katsuki tells, and Eijirou lets his tongue roll out between his shark teeth. Izuku, their Number One, simultaneously blushes like a virgin and sucks on his tongue like a whore, and Shouto loves that about him.

“Play with his ears,” Shouto says, and a swell of satisfaction builds when Eijirou thumbs beneath his ear, and Izuku moans into his mouth.

“Watch it, there’s people around,” Katsuki flicks Eijirou’s arm. “You’ll make me hard, you dick.”

Kind of a little too late for that – Christ, is Shouto sixteen?

“Ah,” Izuku breathes as Eijirou pulls away. “That was dirty, Shouto.”

“What now?” Eijirou asks, and that’s just it. Shouto doesn’t want to go home. Doesn’t want the night to end. He prays to god that none of their pagers go off.

It’s an experiment he’s too enamored with. Shouto wants to tuck Izuku away from the world, keep him from harm and horde him all to himself – but why does he look so good between them?

“How about,” Shouto starts, pocketing his keys again, “I sit this one out, and teach you two how to fuck him right?”

Eijirou’s jaw drops, and Shouto is allowed one moment of wide-eyed Katsuki, before he’s shoving off the car and clicking his own van lights on.

“Leave your car, I’m fuckin’ driving,” Katsuki says, grabbing Eijirou and Izuku by the shirt collars and shoving them towards Ei’s van. “Halfie, move it or I’ll move it for you.”

Izuku laughs bubbly, and manages to grab Shouto by the hand and pull him towards the van. The mixture of low parking lot lights, distant shop neons, the smell of asphalt and winter wind – it makes him feel young, makes him smile as they crowd in the van and Izuku crawls right into his lap.

 “You always know just what to say,” Izuku teases.

“You want them to,” Shouto says.

“Heck yeah I do,” Izuku says, drawing a curse from Katsuki in the front seat. “You’ll tell them what I like, won’t you baby?”

“Shut the hell up or I’m running us off a cliff!”

“Safety first!” Eijirou calls, and leans over to slap a kiss against the corner of Izuku’s mouth. They’re giggly and messy and the kisses miss as the car bumps, and Shouto watches with a fever he hasn’t felt in a long time.





“This is so hot,” Eijirou says, as Izuku carries him up the stairs. “Baby look, it’s like I weigh nothing!”

“If he can’t lift you then he shouldn’t be number one,” Katsuki gruffs.

“Still waiting for you to steal the title,” Izuku teases, setting Eijirou back down so he can unlock their front door.

“I will punch you with my mouth,” Katsuki threatens.

“Your turn!” Eijirou grins, and sweeps Izuku off his feet. Izuku gasps, and he grabs Shouto’s sleeve just in time, pulling him over the threshold.

“Shouto help!”

“He likes being manhandled,” Shouto tells. “He just won’t admit it.”

“Nooo, don’t tell them all my dark secrets.”

Eijirou smacks Izuku’s butt, Katsuki kicks open the bedroom door, and Shouto moves to sprawl over that couch.

“Alright, rules?” Katsuki offers, toeing off his shoes.

“Ummm,” Izuku flops back on the bed, and Eijirou crawls up next to him. “Like?”

“Toys, hairpulling, rope?”

“Oh, yeah yeah,” Izuku waves. “That’s fine.”

“You can bite him,” Shouto says. “No blindfolds though.”

“Oh, right!”

“Dope,” Eijirou grins. “Imma’ eat you up dude.”

“Yay,” Izuku laughs.

“Me first,” Katsuki butts in. “Haven’t even kissed ya’ yet, idiot.”

“We actually did,” Izuku thinks. “But that one was kind of a mouth fight more than a kiss.”

“What are you insinuating?” Bakugou asks, and Shouto is alarmingly turned on by the confidence he holds as he sits between Izuku’s legs and grabs him by the knees. “I’m an outstanding kisser, you fuck.”

“I’m building a pecking order,” Izuku says, voice a little more strained as Katsuki runs his hands up his thighs. “Good luck dethroning Shouto. His tongue is hot and cold.”

“Oh, I wanna’ try that,” Eijirou says, and Shouto has to swallow around the fire in his mouth.

“Ugh, come here,” Katsuki growls, and Izuku uses the muscles in his stomach to lean up and accept Katsuki’s searing kiss. He’s possessive and loud and he devours Izuku’s lips completely, sliding a hand to his back to hold him up, and Shouto didn’t think he’d tolerate so much, let alone enjoy it.

They’ve come full circle. There’s something reverent about the way Katsuki kisses him. Like they’ve waited a long, long time to come so far. For Katsuki to trust Izuku enough to thread his hand into his hair. For Izuku to be so forgiving as to allow all that heat against his tongue.

Katsuki takes and takes and takes, and Izuku has so much to give. 

“You can join in, you know,” Eijirou pats the bed, drawing Shouto’s attention like a whip.

Shouto isn’t sure if he can handle that right now.

“No,” Shouto answers coolly, dropping his head to one hand. “Coaches don’t play.”  

“You’ve got too much bloody confidence,” Katsuki snarls, breaking the kiss to push Izuku back to the bed. Eijirou steals his mouth, Izuku squeaks, and Katsuki barks, “Pisses me off.”

“Well, we practice a lot,” Izuku offers, smothering another kiss into Eijirou’s mouth. “Someone needs to take their shirt off.”

“I can flex it off!”

“Do not, we just bought that shirt you moron.”

“But it’s so easy, watch –“

Ei, knock it off!”

“Ughhhh,” Izuku whines, head flopping back on the mattress. “Come on, I’m horny. Put something in my mouth already.”

“Fuckin’ shit,” Katsuki pauses, gripping his own shirt by the back of the collar and tearing it off. “You taught him those bad language words?”

“You can thank the Americans for that,” Shouto tells, trying to decide if he’s shameless enough to unzip his pants already. He figures the belt can go, and says, “He’s gotten worse.”

“I have not!” Izuku defends, and then gasps in delight as Eijirou tosses his shirt across the room and hovers over him, kissing along Izuku’s cheek again.

Shouto can see hands dig into Eijirou’s back – and it’s all muscle Shouto has seen before – but he’s jealous in a weird way. Not that Eijirou is sucking hickeys into Izuku’s chest, but rather, that Shouto isn’t the one feeling over Eijirou’s shoulders.

What does this mean?

Katsuki is messily digging through the side table drawer. When he doesn’t find what he wants, he leans off the bed and begins to search underneath, face going red from the bloodrush.

“Goddamn it, ya’ll just had to chuck the lube off the bed last night, didn’t ya.”

“To be fair, I didn’t really give a shit,” Shouto offers. Katsuki flips him off, and Shouto rolls his eyes. “Shut up and stick your fingers in his mouth already.”

“Ohh, you’re into that too?” Eijirou beams, and is very eager to drag his thumb across Izuku’s bottom lip.

“Nooo,” Izuku whines, hips lifting as Katsuki tears off his pants. Izuku grabs for Eijirou’s belt buckle, “Come on, please.”

“Little pervert,” Katsuki says in the most fond way Shouto has ever heard. Izuku’s pants hit the floor, and Katsuki licks a dirty stripe knee to hip, and Izuku groans as Katsuki mouths over him through his underwear just as Eijirou finally pulls off his own belt. “Go on, babe. Give ‘em somethin’ to suck on.”

Fuck, Shouto might have to look away. He chews on his lip as Izuku arches like a siren, fumbling to feel across Eijirou’s body as Katsuki peels off his boxers and follows with his tongue.

“It’s alright beautiful, I’ve got ya’,” Eijirou says, the zip of his pants sounding especially dirty. “We take good care of our things, don’t we babe? Shouto is so nice to let us play with you, say thanks baby.”

“Thank you,” Izuku wheezes, Katsuki wasting no time to lick down his wet cock and suck. “Ah, th-thank you – shit.

“Didn’t have to tell you about the pet names, huh?” Shouto offers, and Eijirou shoots him a grin.

“Figured that one out all on our own. Aren’t you proud?”

Izuku bites down a sound as Katsuki rolls his wrist and sucks, bobbing his head with rhythm, and Shouto is gay, okay, he’s received and given his fair share of blowjobs, so he knows talent when he sees it, and Shouto has to regulate his temperature by breathing through his mouth.

“Oh – fuck,” Izuku curses, hips lifting off the bed and slamming back down by Katsuki’s calloused hand. “Kacchan, ah!”

“Now that’s porn,” Eijirou says, “Almost dun’ wanna’ muffle such pretty sounds, aye Katsuki?”

Katsuki hums, pulling off sticky.

“Didn’t get enough of you last night,” Katsuki says, working Izuku’s cock in his hand and eyeing him filthy. “Felt like I was tryna’ watch too much at once.”

“Here here,” Eijirou says, and pulls down his jeans, and Shouto nearly laughs, because Izuku’s eyes snap to his crotch almost comically.

“Oh lord Jesus,” Izuku prays. “You guys are too much.”

“Katsuki’s good with his mouth,” Eijirou tells. “Which should be a given, seeing how much he uses it.”

“Shut the hell up,” Katsuki growls. He licks down Izuku’s cock, nudges his thighs farther apart and slicks up his fingers. “Damn you’re pretty for a nerd. Icyhot ever eat you out?”

Shouto rolls his eyes, “Do I look like an idiot?”

“You’ve got yourself a good one,” Eijirou tells.

“I know,” Izuku grins, and then lewdly opens his mouth. Eijirou lets his dick slide against the tip of his tongue, and Shouto goes hot.

“Bite his thigh,” Shouto tells. Katsuki looks over his shoulder, and Shouto prods further, “It’ll be fun, promise.”

Katsuki follows through, Izuku moans something stupid, and Eijirou gasps hiccupy and light.

“Ah,” Katsuki observes. He licks, bites again, and Izuku is very, very good for Eijirou, albeit squirming, but pink and gorgeous and determined, wow.

“Damn, I want you to fuck me,” Eijirou sighs. Izuku makes a choked sound around his dick, and Eijirou laughs as Katsuki snarls.

“No way, I got him first.”

“Maybe we can all snort some viagra and work our way through the kama sutra,” Eijirou offers, and Izuku makes a very undignified sound that Shouto reads as a laugh.

Katsuki is two fingers deep, and Izuku is squirming more now than ever, and Shouto calls, “Come on, he can take more than that.”

“Well excuse me for tryna’ not tear his ass a new one,” Katsuki grunts, but slips in a third finger and makes a sound as Izuku takes it easy.

“You always bottom, baby?” Eijirou pets his hair, gently rocking against Izuku’s tongue. Izuku flushes, and Eijirou sits back so he can swallow and answer.

“I um, ah,” Izuku keens, toes pressing into Katsuki’s thigh as he spreads his fingers wide. “N-not all the time…”

“Ohhh, the ice prince takes it up the ass,” Katsuki comments. “There’s a picture.”

“Shut up and work,” Shouto calls. “You’re proving to be a pretty lame fuck.”

“You are so dead when this is over,” Katsuki snaps, and yanks out his fingers. “That’s all you’re gettin’, Deku. Your ass is mine.”

“Quit treating me like a princess,” Izuku says, hand jerking to wrap around Eijirou’s cock. “I’m sturdier than that.”

“Told you,” Shouto says.

“Fuck. Off.”

“Fuckkk,” Eijirou groans, head lolling. “Tighter baby – oh yeah, you’re driving me batshit, sweet thing, just like that. Waited so long to have you like this, damn.”

“Knock it off Ei.”

Izuku chalks his hand against the head, and Eijirou moans.

“You –“ Izuku starts, and then smiles. “You make pretty sounds, Eijirou.”

Shouto blinks once, twice, three times, because Eijirou is blushing. He bites into his lower lip and shivers, and it’s so attractive that Shouto says fuck it, and yanks his pants to his thighs.

 “Quit feeding his ego,” Katsuki says, pulling down his jeans and patting around for a condom. “He doesn’t need it.”

“Holy shit,” Izuku balks, letting go of Eijirou in favor of pressing his hand to Katsuki’s shoulder and looking between his legs. “Shouto help me.

“It can’t be that – “ Shouto gets an eyeful as Katsuki shifts back on his knees. He then curses, “Oh Jesus.” Yeah, it is that bad, holy shit he’s big. Shouto takes back everything he said.

“We tried to warn you,” Eijirou says sheepishly. He drags his hand down Izuku’s stomach soothingly, but Shouto can see that Izuku is tense as a wire.

“I have a fat dick, what do you want from me?” Katsuki rolls his eyes and yanks Izuku closer by the thigh.

“G-Guys, I have to work tomorrow!”

Katsuki pauses. “Do you want to stop?”

“Hell no,” Izuku scoffs, “I’m just saying, someone needs to take my shift.”

Eijirou starts to laugh, which turns into a coughing fit.

“Hey, sorry, I can’t come in today. Dick too bomb, bruh.”

“Ahhh fuck fuck fuck,” Izuku gasps, nails digging into Eijirou’s thigh as Katsuki rocks against his ass. “J-Just do it, Kacchan.”

“Ask your daddy,” Katsuki drawls. “He’s been real quiet, ain’t he.”

The air leaves Shouto’s lungs in a steady woosh. Katsuki’s tone is an attempt at indifference, but Shouto can see his hands trembling on Izuku’s thighs, and the sweat rolling down his neck.

The room smells like sex already. Like nitroglycerine and cologne and that stormy, electric scent that rolls off Izuku in waves. Izuku looks to Shouto – rocks his ass into Katsuki and digs his hand into the back of Eijirou’s rocket red hair.

“Shouto,” Izuku, that fox, looks at him and bats his eyelashes, like he’s not two-hundred plus pounds of pure steel muscle. “Can I?”

Fuck, they look amazing. They – they – it’s a picture, like one of those Greek ones you see in the museums. Eijirou with his hair down, tan and sharp and bent to suck on Izuku’s ear and chow down, a constant flow of praises and mumbles and sharp moans and giggly laughter – and Katsuki moves so comfortably, so efficient and hasty and hungry, yet surprisingly aware of everyone in the room, even Shouto on the couch.

Shouto isn’t sure when he started staring at the muscles in Katsuki’s back. It’s kind of a problem.

Izuku is still waiting on an answer, so Shouto licks his palm and says, “Don’t go easy on them,” and Izuku grins when he realizes that he’s not talking to Eijirou and Katsuki.

He doesn’t; not at all, cause if Izuku can pride himself on one thing, it’s meeting someone punch for punch, and oh does he. Eijirou goes all soft when he kisses him, swallows up all the sounds, and Shouto knows what that’s like – but kind of wonders what it feels like to have sharp teeth against your gums.

Katsuki fucks like a natural. Shouto goes dead silent in favor for chewing on his cheek and jamming his palm against his cock because for real he might just die.

Izuku looks to him and stretches out a hand, and Shouto ignores the magnetic pull because he can’t right now, he just can’t.   

Chapter Text

Shouto is a mess during his hero shift. It’s unnoticeable to most, but his sidekicks pick up on his mood and don’t say anything.

He’s too deep in his head. Even as he’s cuffing a villain, knee at her back, Shouto still can’t pull his head out of the clouds.

Shouto had to leave early this morning, so he hasn’t spoken to Izuku since they returned to the apartment late last night. Izuku sleepily kissed him goodbye, but Shouto still wishes they’d had a moment to talk.

Someone is calling his name.


“Sir,” the intern fiddles with her sleeve. “The reporter is still waiting for you.”

“Right,” Shouto blinks. “Thank you. You’re free to go home early if you’d like.”

“Thank you sir!”

Shouto ruffles a hand through his hair and tries to blink himself to the present. Izuku always tells him to check his hair before the interviews, and Shouto remembers to look in a busted car window before approaching the reporter.

He reverts to one-word answers, because that’s safer. Shouto is somewhat relieved he didn’t work with Ground Zero today, because he’s not sure what he might have said.

Whatever this is, it can’t affect his work.

He has a lot to think about.



It’s late when he pushes open the door. Momo asked about drinks after work, and Shouto needed to clear his headspace, so he stayed out later than he expected. He’s almost worried Izuku is asleep already, but the kitchen lights are still on, and he’s met by a tuft of hair that perks up over the couch.

“Welcome home!”

“Hey,” Shouto greets. “You didn’t have to wait up for me.”

“I wanted to,” Izuku says, shifting to make room on the couch. Shouto tosses his keys and hangs up his jacket and all but falls into Izuku’s arms. “How’s Yaoyorozu?”

“Up to her nose in paperwork. Sharks keep sending her work requests, but it’s obvious they’re trying to exploit her quirk.”

“Greedy bastards,” Izuku says lightly, and Shouto sets his head on his shoulder. Izuku thumbs over the new bandage on his hand, “Shift was okay?”

“Not bad. Was kind of out of it,” Shouto admits. Izuku squeezes his palm. “You?”

“Err…same.” Izuku breathes out, “You look tired. Would you rather talk tomorrow?”


Izuku nods. There’s a blanket of silence. Shouto doesn’t know what to say, so he hopes Izuku does. His tongue feels heavy, eyes stinging in exhaustion, but his stomach flipping with unease.

 Izuku finally speaks. “Last night then. Good, bad?”  


“Were you upset when they touched me?” Izuku asks.

“No,” Shouto says. “That’s the part I’m still trying to understand.”

Izuku hums. “Do you like them?”

The question rocks him to his core. Shouto isn’t sure how to answer. He’s spent so long loving Izuku, pining and trying to forget the pain and falling for him all over again – but somehow, there’s a crevice in his chest, a pit that isn’t filled yet.

Of course he likes them, they’ve been friends for almost fourteen years. But Izuku means something more.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” Izuku nods. “So me – with Eijirou and Kacchan, it doesn’t bother you?”

“No. I liked it.” Shouto holds his hand, “I like seeing you happy.”

“You make me happy.”

“So do they.”

“Eijirou makes you laugh,” Izuku pokes. “And you’re always staring at Kacchan.”


“So its okay if they come over this weekend?”

A spark of excitement lights in his chest, but Shouto suppresses it with an even blink.

“They’re not working?”

“Eijirou isn’t, and Kacchan is on call like me.”

Shouto nods. He tips his head up and presses a kiss to Izuku’s jaw, his skin soft against his chapped lips.

“I’d like that, then.”

“Eijirou will be so excited,” Izuku grins, meeting his mouth. Shouto presses a kiss to his cheekbone and his temple before settling back against his shoulder.

The stress seeps out of him, and Izuku lets out a steady breath that Shouto didn’t realize he was holding. It hurts him.

“I want you to be honest with me,” Shouto says. Izuku tenses back up, and Shouto pokes him, “Stop that. I just mean – I want you to tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Of course,” Izuku nods.

“What was it like? With Eijirou and Katsuki.” He knows what it looked like, but he can’t imagine himself in Izuku’s position. His mind draws a blank.

“Ahh…a lot,” Izuku giggles nervously. “Um. Different and kind of awesome and weirdly impowering.”  Izuku swallows, “You know I – I never would have had the confidence to do that without you.”

“That’s not true.”

“But it is. You taught me to enjoy my body – to, to be selfish when it comes to these things.” Izuku brushes back his bangs, “You make me feel special.”

Flattered, Shouto cheeks burn. He forces back the emotion in his voice, and manages a steady, “I didn’t do any of that. It’s all you, love.”

“Not true but...I’m still glad you were there.”

“Tell me more.”

“Well…they kiss differently,” Izuku starts. “And um, their hands are…different too,” Izuku mumbles. “Yours are – are softer. Kacchan is really sweaty, but I think that’s kind of cute.”

It is cute. Shouto closes his eyes and urges Izuku to keep talking, and he doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until he’s being carried into bed.



Just when Shouto has settled into a routine, life likes to switch it up on him. Change is nature and nature is change yes whatever, Shouto doesn’t have to be happy about it.

Usually it’s for the worse, sometimes for the better, but this is one of those rollercoasters Shouto is too invested in to get off of.

Katsuki and Eijirou come over Saturday evening. Shouto is stiff because he’s still not sure where they stand on all this – but Eijirou slams a casserole on the counter and says housewife for the fucking WIN, and Katsuki huffs something along the lines of shut up, someone needs to learn to cook around here, and the jenga tower of worries Shouto has been meticulously building in his head just comes tumbling down.

Katsuki flops on their couch like he owns the place, and he and Izuku argue over the sports channels until they find a rerun of an old All Might action thriller, and nothing is really that different.

Except, Eijirou vaults the back of the L couch and snuggles up to Izuku like a big dog, and Izuku opens his arms wide and lets him in, and Katsuki slaps the spot next to him with a loud fwap and says, “Get your ass over here, Halfie. No wait, bring me a beer.”

“It’s my beer,” Shouto tells, grabbing two anyways.

“And that was my food, so tough shit,” Katsuki says. Shouto watches him pop the cap off his bicep, and maybe it’s not such a good idea to sit so close – but Katsuki gives him a warning glare, and Shouto isn’t much in the mood to fight – so he sits.

“I always loved this movie,” Eijirou says, lifting popcorn to Izuku’s mouth for him. “I couldn’t believe they got an actual shapeshifter to act as All Might.”

Izuku perks up and chews, “You know! What’s funny about that was the actress could only hold the shift for fifteen minutes at a time! They had to shoot everything in short intervals and chop up the scenes so it didn’t seem forced.”

“Nerd,” Katsuki says. “And that’s wrong anyways, they knew about her limit before they casted her so it was storyboarded in.”

“Nerd,” Shouto repeats, and smirks at the murderous glare Katsuki gives him. Izuku turns up the volume, and Shouto sinks back into the couch, trying to focus on the movie rather than Eijirou’s nose in Izuku’s neck.

It’s still pretty jarring to look over twenty minutes later and see Izuku and Eijirou making out against the back of the couch. Eijirou’s large hand braces along his neck, and Shouto’s stomach falls out as he hears a wet smack, and a laugh.

“Eichan,” Izuku teases, “I can’t see.”

“Don’t call me Eichan and then expect me to stop kissing you.”

“Ei,” Katsuki warns – and Shouto realizes that as fiery and fearless as Katsuki is, he’s always checking for consent, and always cautious of their boundaries. You know, in his own twisted sort of way it’s….sweet.

“Whaat?” Eijirou whines. “But look how cute he is.”

“Hm,” Katsuki says, and squishes Izuku’s cheeks in one hand. “We agreed on a normal date, Ei.”

So they didn’t come for sex again. Shouto is simultaneously relieved and disappointed.

Wait, date?

“Well, this is pretty normal for us,” Izuku says, shrugging off Katsuki. “Right Shouto?”

Shouto shrugs in agreement.

“Yeah, don’t think you’re off the hook pretty boy,” Eijriou points, and Katsuki slaps his hand away.

“I’ll muzzle you.”

“That’s hot.”

“Wait shut up!” Izuku points. “All Might is about to toss the submarine!”

“I thought he already did that.”

“But this is the sub with the nuke,” Katsuki corrects. “Shits about to go boom.”

The screen flickers in white and orange light, and the other three turn to it, completely enamored. Shouto can taste affection in his mouth, so he downs the rest of his beer and sets the bottle by his feet.

Katsuki throws both arms over the back of the couch, Eijirou starts making out with Izuku again, and Shouto finds he doesn’t really mind that much.



It’s too random to call it a pattern. Hero work is finnicky, so the chances of the four of them hanging out at the same time dwindles down to once a week at the best, maybe twice for coffee if they’re lucky.

They screw around sometimes too. Shouto watches Eijirou fall to his knees during the next movie night, and the picture of Izuku’s hands in his hair is permanently burned into Shouto’s mind. Izuku is this continuous wall between them, and Shouto feels safe behind it, free to swim in the familiarity of his kisses while Katsuki bites and holds and fucks Izuku from behind.  


It’s a Tuesday when Izuku gets called out on a mission, but Shouto sees Eijirou at a bar with the rest of their friends. He tries not to sit too close, and pretends he doesn’t see Eijirou wave him over for a seat. Shouto does see the hurt look on his face, and Shouto slams back a shot with too much fever.

“Damn, what are you trying to forget, hot stuff?” Denki jokes.

“Your mom,” Shouto replies flatly, and Sero nearly falls off the barstool laughing.


Shouto doesn’t know how to react around Katsuki and Eijirou when Izuku isn’t around anymore. He feels a bit bad, especially of how close they grew during Izuku’s years in America, but everything’s a little fucky right now.

Izuku doesn’t seem to feel weird about it, because he asks if he can go to their place while Shouto works late.

Shouto doesn’t own Izuku in any form, but he appreciates him asking.

“I don’t mind,” Shouto says honestly, knowing what he’s agreeing to, and the relieved smile on Izuku’s face makes him happy.

He knows it’s likely that they’re going to have sex without him, and as much as Shouto secretly wants to be there, he doesn’t feel cheated on. It’s comforting to know Izuku won’t be lonely.  

Shouto doesn’t like working late at the office. He’d rather be out in the field than handling paperwork, but unfortunately the firm does have his name on it, so Shouto sucks it up.  

“So you’re poly,” Momo says, as Shouto stamps another paper and sets it aside.

“Is that what it is?”

“Oh my god, Shouto.” Momo pinches the bridge of her nose and sits on the edge of his desk. “You have the entire internet at your disposal.”

“I just thought it was an open relationship, or something,” Shouto shrugs. His eyes are starting to burn, so he rubs them with the palm of his hand and leans back in his seat.

“An open relationship is say, you and Midoriya going off to screw other people.”

Shouto makes a face, and Momo raises an eyebrow in a yeah I didn’t think so type of manner.

“Then…I guess that’s right.”

“It sounds like they’re making a real effort. Maybe you should give a little back.”

Shouto nervously fiddles with his pen, “I don’t know…”

“Seriously? Come on. I’m not going to wait another ten years to watch you sort your crap.”

“Take your file and go,” Shouto scowls. “It’s been approved anyways.”

“Stop ignoring me.”

“Stop sitting on my desk.”

“Don’t be afraid of intimacy!” Momo calls, one foot out the door, and Shouto shouts back, “I’m not scared!” just as the door shuts.

He thinks about what those three are likely up to. Shouto rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes and groans.



It’s late when he drives to pick up Izuku.

His sweet voice comes filtering through the radio in the form of an insurance commercial, and Shouto has to turn the volume down to concentrate.

He’s unsure if anyone will answer at this hour, but Shouto knocks three times, and the deadbolt throws.

“Yo,” Katsuki grunts.

He’s in nothing but sweatpants and socks. Shouto pats himself on the back for keeping his eyes on Katsuki’s face (even if he’s seen him naked half a dozen times already. He’s gay give him a break). 

“Hi,” Shouto says, pocketing his hands. “Is he still here?”

“Yup,” Katsuki steps aside and allows Shouto in. He toes off his shoes as Katsuki shuts the door. “He passed out half an hour ago.”

Shouto frowns at the thought of waking him up.

“Tired him out?” 

Katsuki grins, “You could say that.”

Shouto bites his tongue and follows Katsuki into the bedroom. Izuku is dead asleep, hugging Eijirou’s legs as he snoozes. Eijirou is gently petting his hair as he scrolls through his phone.

Eijirou looks up and smiles soft, “Hey pretty boy, are we having a sleepover?”

“Unfortunately no,” Shouto lowers his voice. “I’ve come to pick him up.”


Katsuki quietly climbs back into the bed, likely where he was before, and Shouto sits tentatively on the edge. Izuku mumbles and rolls over, wadding up the sheets as he turns away from the noise.

“He’s out,” Shouto comments.

Eijirou looks down, a fond look in his eyes.


Shouto makes no move to wake Izuku. Katsuki gathers Eijirou under one arm, shifting him half into his lap, and Eijirou goes easy.

Shouto can feel his heart thumping in his throat. Izuku’s shoulders rise and fall, and Shouto loves him too much, he thinks. Too much for his own good.

Izuku doesn’t look like an intruder; he looks like he belongs. 

Shouto knows the look in Eijirou’s eyes like he knows his own heart.

“You really like him,” Shouto says.

Eijirou looks up, shockingly serious. He’s so bubbly, always laughing through pain and sadness and life itself; it’s easy to forget what Eijirou has been through, what Eijirou hides.

“Yeah,” Eijirou says. “We do.”

“Dunno how many times we have to say it, but we’re not fucking around.”

Shouto gently rubs his hand along Izuku’s ankle.

“I know.”

There’s another wave of silence.

Wake him up, Shouto thinks, but doesn’t move. It’s time to go. Wake him up.

The room smells like sex and heat and linen. It’s like a blanket, and it’s selfish, but he wants to wrap himself up in it.

“Hey asshole,” Katsuki says, voice rolling on a purr, yanking Shouto’s gaze like it’s tied to a rope. “Look here.”

Shouto stares dumbly as Katsuki reaches under Eijirou’s shirt. He slides his palm flat, the fabric gathering under his wrist. Shouto’s stomach drops out and rolls down the street, and his mouth goes bone dry, because Eijirou is in a black, cupless, strappy lace bra, and his chest is painted in hickeys and teeth marks.

“Oh,” Shouto says. Some of that is definitely Izuku’s handiwork.

Katsuki’s hand squeezes up Eijirou’s chest, towards his sternum and back down, the callouses on his hands catching on the fabric. Shouto feels dizzy with an onslaught of arousal, and Katsuki’s rough voice doesn’t do much to help.

“You wanna’ touch?”

Shouto might be having an out of body experience, but he still manages to nod. Eijirou looks like he’s holding his breath.

“Course you do,” Katsuki scoffs. “You’re not fuckin’ stupid. C’mere.”

Shouto numbly scooches across the bed, and Katsuki’s hand shoots out to grab his wrist, and it burns like a brand and maybe Shouto is beginning to see why Izuku begs for his quirk so often.

“You’re so slow,” Katsuki grunts, and Shouto blinks as his hand is forced flat against Eijirou’s thick chest. Katsuki lets go, and Shouto doesn’t move.

“Please,” Eijirou mumbles, shifting his legs apart so Shouto can crawl closer. His nerve falters, “B-But um, y-you don’t have to –“

“You’re really beautiful,” Shouto admits, and then flushes hot, “I-I mean –“

“Of course he is,” Katsuki tuts, and Shouto turns his head to gush out cold air.

“Damn that’s sexy,” Eijirou says. Shouto curiously brushes his nipple through the fabric, and Eijirou chokes a sound.

“Your baby really did a number on him,” Katsuki tells, pushing his own fingers into Eijirou’s hipbones and sitting back against the headboard. “Kinky little shit.”

“Yeah,” Shouto whispers, feeling across hard-toned muscle and scars. “He’s…surprising…like that...” he trails, absolutely drawn to the line where lace meets skin. Shouto is drunk with it, with the foreign scent of him, with Eijirou’s eyes staring right through. Shouto doesn’t even realize he’s pressing his lips to one of the marks until he’s doing it – and he pulls back quickly in surprise.


Katsuki growls, and it tears through Shouto like never before. He grabs Eijirou tight by the chin, earns a pleased yip, and hisses through his teeth.

“Kiss him.”

Shouto slides his hands up to cup Eijirou’s face. His hands cover Katsuki’s; he’s burning, boiling to the touch, and Shouto’s jenga tower keeps on falling, because realization hits him like a kick to the gut.


I want this.


Eijirou gasps when he kisses him, like he wasn’t expecting it. The kiss is returned immediately, Eijirou’s hands squeezing into his arms like he’s afraid to let go – and Shouto feels guilt in his stomach, and regrets ever making him feel like he’d walk away from this.

“Is this for me?” Eijirou asks, panting, “Or for Izuku?”

Shouto ponders a minute, eyes magnetized to the red of his mouth. He answers, “It’s for me,” and meets him halfway again.

Katsuki curses lightly and tucks Eijirou’s hair behind his ear, and the notion is so tender and loving, that Shouto feels like there’s a bigger picture he’s missing here – but he wants to see it. Wants to uncover everything.

This is what Izuku was trying to tell him;  fuck, it’s what they’ve all been trying to say. There’s more inside himself, more he can give, so he slips his tongue along Eijirou’s, feels across sharp teeth and eats up the sound he makes.

“Oh Katsuki,” Eijirou sighs. “His tongue is hot and cold.”

“You nicked me,” Shouto comments, licking away the blood on his lip.

“Oops! Sorry…”

“It happens, get over it,” Katsuki snaps. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

He’s disoriented as Eijirou pulls on his shirt and yanks. Shouto blinks, hair fluffed up and in his face – and Eijirou beams at him, big and wide and so delectable Shouto just can’t take it. He yanks Eijirou out of Katsuki’s arms, falls back towards the foot of the couch and pulls Eijirou over him, hand locked in the back of his hair – and Eijirou laughs into his mouth and it’s different and new and so good.

“Wow,” a voice says, and Shouto freezes as he sees Izuku sleepily sit upright. “Isn’t that gorgeous.”

“Yeah,” Katsuki says, and Shouto is lucky enough to see him gently rub at the pillow crease on Izuku’s cheek, before tugging on his ear. “You’re spending the night.”

“Mkay,” Izuku purrs, and flops his head right into Katsuki’s lap – and Shouto loses all focus, because Eijirou grinds up hard against him, and Shouto has to keep exhaling steam to avoid burning him.

“Needy bitch,” Katsuki says as an endearment. “He’s still loose from Deku, you can fuck ‘em if you want.”

Shouto has to squeeze his eyes shut to block out the mental picture. Eijirou huffs and squirms,

“Don’t be mean!”

“How about,” Shouto starts, hand obsessively running over that stupid bralette, “I use my mouth instead.”

“Oh hell yeah!” Eijirou cheers, and almost falls off the bed as he rolls again. “I’m in a room full of geniuses.”

“Ei’s in trouble,” Izuku yawns. “Shouto won’t stop once you come.”

“Fuck that’s hot,” Katsuki whistles, and Eijirou blinks a wait what – and Shouto nails him down by the thighs and tears off the stupid Ground Zero boxers, tossing them to the floor.

Izuku looks happy. Shouto wants, and Eijirou asks, so Shouto takes.



“Sorry,” Shouto mumbles, as Katsuki tosses the scorched bra into the trash.

“Whatever,” Katsuki grunts. “I’ve burned through my fair share of clothes anyways.”

Katsuki is surprisingly cool about this, but Shouto won’t test his luck. It’s way too late to drive home, Eijirou and Izuku are tangled up like two koalas, and all the exhaustion hits him at once.

Katsuki leans up against the kitchen counter and crosses his arms. Shouto stirs his finger around in his cup of water, and watches the glass frost.

Their house feels different at night. Low blue light, quiet and cool as the house settles.

“He thought you didn’t like him,” Katsuki says. Shouto’s gaze jerks up.

“Wh – really?”

Katsuki frowns, “The way you’ve been acting, yeah.”

“I like him,” Shouto admits, and it’s so freeing, he wonders why he didn’t say it months ago when this all began. “I really like Eijirou.”

“Good,” Katsuki says. “Then don’t ever make him feel that way again, or I’ll bury you in the yard.”

They’re still married. Shouto isn’t sure why he can’t wrap his head around it. Eijirou somehow convinced the most explosive man in the world to settle down, to buy a home, to change.


So you’re poly?


Shouto is allowed to have these things. Izuku has fallen into it naturally, but Shouto feels left behind, still scrambling to keep up, always in his shadow but never bent out of shape over it.

“Deal,” Shouto says.

Katsuki’s face softens, and it steals his breath away.

“C’mon,” Katsuki gestures. “My ass is beat.”



This is not his bed, and this is not his arm.

Oh – this, this is his Izuku, but this –

Shouto peeps open an eye at the blazing of an alarm. He knows for a fact he fell asleep on the outside of the bed, but he’s somehow migrated to the middle, and there’s so many legs he can’t keep track.

“-jrou,” Izuku mumbles. “Turn it off.”

There’s a groan over his shoulder and ahhh, that’s Eijirou’s weight against his back. How can someone be so firm and squishy?

“That’s my pagerrr,” Eijirou whines, face pressed in Shouto’s neck. There’s a beat of silence, and Katsuki peers up over Izuku’s shoulder.


Another pause.

“Shit!” Eijirou scrambles, and Shouto grunts as he’s kneed in the stomach. “Shit shit shit – “

A second alarm goes off, and Shouto rubs his eyes and sighs.

“Looks like we’re teaming.”

“Babe, where’s my suit?” Eijirou scrambles in the bathroom.

Katsuki hauls Izuku towards his chest and grumbles, “Washer.”

“It’s wet!”

“Yeah no shit! Wear the costume at the firm.”

“I broke the mask, remember?!”

“Then fuckin’ glue it! I don’t care!”

There’s the sound of a hundred cabinets opening and shutting, and Shouto laughs sleepily and runs a hand through his hair.

“No shower for me I guess.”

“You’re leaving?” Izuku asks. Shouto shows his pager, and Izuku frowns. “Damn. You be careful, okay dear? I can work if you need me.”

“We’ve got it,” Shouto says. Katsuki huffs at the sound of another cabinet slamming shut, and he jumps out of bed yelling,

“Oh my god why can you never – the couch, Ei, you always toss it on the goddamn couch – “

Izuku breaks out laughing, and Shouto kisses him goodbye, morning breath and all. The sheets are twisted, and Shouto’s neck is sore from the strange position, but he feels oddly rested and – a little disappointed at the abrupt start to their morning.

Ah well.

“Oh – I found it!”



Kirishima Eijirou has changed your group chat name to: Dicksquad ╰( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )つ──☆*:・゚


Izuku Midoriya has changed your group chat name to: Please Don’t I Am Teaching Interns Right Now


You have changed the group chat name to: Group Chat


Kirishima Eijirou has changed your group chat name to: Shouto Is Boring


Midoriya Izuku has changed your group chat name to: Shouto Is Really Cool


Bakugou Katsuki has changed your group chat name to: Katsuki And The Three Losers




They take a trip to the hospital for a few lacerations. Shouto is mostly healed by the time he’s home, but Izuku is still unhappy with him.

“Watch it!” Izuku yells as Shouto flops on the couch.

“Love,” Shouto sighs, rolling up his sleeve and shoving his arm straight up in the air like a flag. “The scar isn’t even there anymore.”

“It’s the internal bleeding I’m worried about,” Izuku frowns, and tosses his jacket over the kitchen chair. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Your insurance is going to hire a hitman to kill us one day.”

Yeah, probably, but he’d like to see them try.

Shouto beckons Izuku over, and he does so reluctantly, sitting near but not on Shouto like he’d prefer.

“They need to stop broadcasting fights on TV. You looked like a filet mignon.”

“A delicious one?”

“I’m going to punch you.”

Shouto snorts and runs his hand up Izuku’s thigh. He looks to the coffee table scattered with playing cards and water bottles and all the crap they’ve yet to clean; but there’s a small vase set at the corner, and Shouto doesn’t remember buying flowers.

“What are those?”

“Oh yeah!” Izuku stands. He grabs the card off the vase and hands it to Shouto. “They were delivered while you slept at the hospital. Here.”

Shouto lifts an eyebrow and examines the card. The message is typed out in a swirly cursive font, and the paper is nice.


~You’re a fucking idiot~


Shouto nearly laughs. He looks at the back and then flips it over again.

“No way, Katsuki sent these?”

“You looked pretty bad.”  

“But flowers? Katsuki hates flowers.”

“Kacchan hates lots of things.” Izuku lists, “Like public transportation and crowds and crappy drivers and politicians and mail.”

“Mail?” Shouto laughs.

“Oh, bring up the postage service and wait for him to pop off.”

Shouto smiles as he looks at the card again, and he doesn’t realize he’s doing it until Izuku pets down the side of his cheek. Shouto clears his throat and tosses the note back on the table.

“That was nice.”

Izuku kisses his cheek, and then bites it.

“Rest up, I’m going to the gym.”

“I’m coming.”

“No you are not.

“I just want to watch,” Shouto says innocently. Izuku lifts an eyebrow, but the blush on his ears is cute.

“You just want to scare off all the kids. You’re no better than Kacchan.”

“It’s my firm,” Shouto defends, standing back up again. “I’m not paying them to stand around and check out my boyfriend.”

“Technically the taxes pay them.”

“And taxes pay me,” Shouto pats his butt. “Grab your gear.”

“You will sit,” Izuku points, jogging backwards into the bedroom. “And you will do nothing to stir up your poor organs.”

Shouto thumbs across one of the daisies on the table. It’s already a bit wilted, but it still smells nice.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Hmm, yeah. Organs.”



Izuku and Katsuki are pulled out of town for a three-day mission way up north, and Shouto is totally fine with that.

It is day two and Shouto is most definitely not lonely.

The house is clean and the bills are done and he even did that pile of laundry they’ve been putting off for six weeks – but Shouto still has to force himself to stay away from the news, or else he’ll find himself checking it excessively. Mom says to stop worrying.

He’s not worried. Well – okay, of course he’s worried, but he trusts Izuku and Katsuki to have each other’s backs. It’s not about that.

Now that Izuku has moved in, it’s hard to cope with him being gone. People keep going on about the honeymoon phase, but Shouto thinks it’s a load of crap, because he’d still take a bullet for Izuku, and the more he thinks on it, he’d probably take one for Katsuki and Eijirou too.

His mind is going down dangerous paths, so Shouto shakes himself out of it and scowls at the dinner he’s burnt. He’s scraping it into the trash when his phone buzzes.  

 2 New Messages from: Katsuki and The Three Losers

Kirishima Eijirou > yo shouto!!!

Kirishima Eijirou > wanna’ do dinner?


Shouto stares at his phone. Eijirou wants to have dinner with him? Without Katsuki and Izuku? Is Eijirou that lonely? Or does he really want to spend time with Shouto?

He must hesitate too long, because his phone dings again.


Kirishima Eijirou > its ok if ur busy!!


Shouto begins to type out a response.


You > I’m not busy

You > I actually just burned the shit out of my fried rice, so dinner sounds good

Kirishima Eijirou > Sweet dude!! I’ll pick up something and swing by your place


Shouto wants to reply you don’t have to do that, but he knows Eijirou is likely on his way already.

He figures he should probably change out of his old highschool gym shirt and actually shave for once. Shouto pets across the scar under his eye and frowns – and just as he’s rinsing off, the doorbell rings.

Shouto unlocks the chain and is met with Eijirou holding an armful of bags, sporting a backwards cap and track pants.

“Hey man!” Eijirou beams. “Hope you like Chinese.”

“Sounds good to me. You don’t even want to see the atrocity in my trash can right now.”

“Oh – it smells – “

“- burnt, I know,” Shouto says, helping him set the bags on his kitchen table. “I can cook, I promise.” Sort of.

“Well I can’t!” Eijirou laughs. “It’s been nothing but takeout for me since Katsuki left.”

“Mmm,” Shouto nods, and searches for some plates and chopsticks. “Are you missing him?”

“Of course,” Eijirou sighs, unloading the bags. “But I don’t want to seem like a needy dog, you know? We’re married, it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Shouto says, setting down the plates. “I’ve felt…” he trails off, and Eijirou looks up at him with his big puppy eyes.

“Hey, at least we’re both still in town,” Eijirou tries. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if it was all three of you gone.”

Shouto swallows and takes a seat. He doesn’t spend much time alone with Eijirou – especially as of late. Shouto could see them as a favorable matchup for sex, but their personalities are so stark different – he can’t imagine Eijirou wanting to ‘hang out’ together.

“Thank you for the food,” Shouto says, and Eijirou claps his hands and grins.

“Dig in!”

Shouto stares too much. He knows he does, but he can’t help it. Eijirou looks good in the baseball cap. His arms are bruised up from a previous fight and his cheeks look like a little chipmunks while he eats, and Shouto just notices things now, is hyperware and can’t turn it off.

Shouto wants this to work. He stirs around his chopsticks and asks,

“Did you guys take on any new interns this year?”

Eijirou perks up.

“Oh did we!! The agency got a dozen applicants from UA alone, and I wanted to take ‘em all in but Katsuki said no. You should’ve seen them! All cute and naïve in their little costumes, I just wanted to snatch ‘em up.”

“How many did you take?”

“Only three, which was lame, but I agreed with Katsuki, it’s better to give one on one training to really connect with them. I’m most excited for our girl Gamma. She can harvest and control radiation!”

“Woah,” Shouto blinks. “That’s a…dangerous quirk.”

“Yeah,” Eijirou shrugs. “Katsuki likes to take on the kids everyone else is afraid of.”

That’s… really sweet. Shouto shoves food in his mouth to avoid saying so.

“What about you? Are you um…” Eijirou rubs the back of his head. “Are you taking interns again?”

Shouto skipped the last two semesters of the intern program due to…that one incident he doesn’t like to think about.

“I did this year. Izuku and I have um. We’ve been working through it.”

“The media was saying nasty shit about it, which was so totally wrong. You had every right to drop the program.”

Shouto will get too choked up if he thinks about it. He coughs and says, “I only accepted one intern this quarter. I wanted to be sure um. I could protect them.”

Eijirou’s eyes soften. He chews on his bottom lip and, thank god, changes the subject.

“Did you catch Denki on that late night show last week?”

Shouto snorts, and coughs a laugh into his arm. Eijirou starts to full on snicker.

“Are you kidding,” Shouto coughs again, grabbing a drink of water. “Izuku and I about threw up laughing.”

“Somehow, with both arms tied and short-circuited, he still managed to beat the host in movie trivia,” Eijirou shakes his head. “That’s my boy.”

“I haven’t seen him short-circuit since highschool.”

“Have you teamed up with him lately? He’s kind of a stud.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah, he’s gotten so accurate with his attacks, he’s even got Katsuki worried.”

“Now that I don’t believe.”

“Well he doesn’t say it,” Eijirou laughs. “But I know ‘em. He’s watching the rankings like a hawk.”

Shouto smiles a little, and his empty apartment doesn’t feel so lonely.



He doesn’t realize how long they’ve been talking, until Eijirou leans back and whines, “Aah~ I’m stuffed.”

Suddenly feeling awkward, Shouto takes to doing the dishes so he has something to do with his hands. Eijirou eagerly helps, even when Shouto tells him not to.

They sweep most of the food in the trash and dump the cartons and scrub the plates, and soon Shouto is at a loss for what to do.

“Wow, it’s already nine,” Eijirou smiles. He drags his hand along the edge of the countertop, and his face falls. “Um. I don’t wanna’ overstay my welcome, but I don’t really want to go home yet, haha. Is that alright?”

Shouto softens.

“You can stay as long as you’d like.” He licks over his bottom lip and finds the tile very interesting. “We’re kind of…dating, aren’t we?”

“Are we?” Eijirou sounds hopeful.

“I thought so…”

Eijirou sits back on their livingroom couch. Shouto hovers, enamored as Eijirou drops his head back against the cushions. There’s a fading hickey on the line of his throat.

“Ah,” he says. “I’m glad. You know, it’s funny, I-“ Eijirou looks back up and rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “I really wasn’t sure if you liked me all that much, or if you just tolerated me for Izuku, haha.”

Shouto stares. Eijirou flushes.

“I mean! I know you said you liked me but – I’m just saying I get it! Like, I won’t be mad or anything if that was the truth. All of this is so – it’s weird, right? I know it’s weird, but like, Katsuki and I just kept talking about it, w-what it’d be like to have it be the four of us and, and I kept thinkin’ and thinkin’ and suddenly a whole year had passed and I was like man, we’re gonna’ be thirty. If I don’t say something now –“

“I’m sorry,” Shouto says, and Eijirou jumps as if he didn’t see him cross the room. “I’m sorry,” he repeats again, slumping next to Eijirou on the couch.

“Wh…what for?”

“I’m pretty shit at saying how I feel,” Shouto says. “Izuku is shit at it too. I think certain things happen for a reason – but I’m pretty sure our combined shittiness is the reason we took as long as we did to hook up.”

“I don’t think it’s that,” Eijirou says. “You guys just value friendship over romance. You’d rather not break what you have, yeah?”

Shouto snorts, and rolls his head to look at Eijirou.

“And then there’s you two.”

“And then there’s us,” Eijirou grins. His smile falls as he looks to his hands. “I wear my heart on my sleeve. That’s my own fault.”

Shouto bridges the gap between them, and brushes the back of his hand against Eijirou’s. Crimson eyes snap to him in surprise, and Shouto carefully threads their fingers together.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” says Shouto. Eijirou is the brave one, not him. Shouto hesitates, and then continues, “I do like you guys, so please wait for me. I’m still trying to catch up.”  

Eijirou turns more towards him, but holds Shouto’s hand like it’s something dear to him.

“You guys?”

Shouto’s heart squeezes when he thinks of Katsuki. They’ve never kissed, but the thought makes his mouth taste like ash. It’s different – different from how he sees Izuku, different from Eijirou, an entirely different color in his mind.

“Yeah,” Shouto admits. Eijirou beams and it’s so damn bright, he fights the urge to squint. Shouto must be making a face, because Eijirou giggles.

“Ice prince my ass,” Eijirou says, poking his chest with his free hand. “There’s a big ole heart in here.”

Shouto hums. He catches Eijirou’s other hand and threads those fingers too. Eijirou purrs,

“Can I kiss you?”

“You don’t have to ask.”

He spends a long, long time learning how to French kiss Eijirou without nicking his teeth. It takes some hard work, but god damn it, Shouto is willing to make that sacrifice.


“Goodness gracious!” Izuku gasps, dropping his bags. “What happened to your mouth?”

Shouto trails his fingers along his swollen bottom lip and blinks.

 “Uhh. Well. We had dinner.”



 Izuku has this innate ability to drive Shouto absolutely crazy. Not all the time – but with random things like leaving dishes in the sink and forgetting about the garbage after trash day and having absolutely no self-preservation.

They both got off the same shift together. Shouto enjoys working with Izuku, because as always, he drives you to get better, to push your limits and do more, save more, be more –

But it’s exhausting in another sense, because watching Izuku get thrown around like a doll does numbers on his heart. If he freezes the villain’s wrists a little too harsh, then that’s nobody’s business but his own.

Shouto is about ready to keel over when they get home, but Izuku’s mind is still going a million miles a minute, and he locks himself up in the office to work on leads. Gang cases like these are consuming, and Shouto knows better than to try and drag Izuku to bed right away, so he goes to sleep alone.

By morning Izuku already has half the wall covered in red string and papers, and his drive makes Shouto want to work hard. Unfortunately, Izuku will obsess and obsess until his eyes run dry, and watching him slowly wither drives Shouto up a wall. Yes, Izuku blasts through some of the world’s toughest villains, but at what cost?

Shouto leans over the back of the chair and dips his hands down the front of Izuku’s chest, pressing his mouth to the top of his hair.

“I’m going to work. You need to give it a break.”

“I know I know,” Izuku scrubs his face. “But I’ve seen these kind of quirk enhancers before. The case is almost identical to the strain we found in the states.”

“I’m going to do some nosing around downtown today. That’s Tokoyami’s district, he might have more details.”

“I’ll come with you!”

“Nope, you’re off today.”


“I’ll let you know if I find anything,” Shouto says with finality. “I will make Katsuki and Eijirou come check on you.”

“Shouto,” he huffs.

Shouto narrows his eyes as a challenge, “I’m not playing these games with you. We’re not taking another trip to the hospital for dehydration.”

Izuku glares at him a moment longer, before he ruffles his hair and sighs.

“Sorry. I just keep thinking about the kidnappings.”

“Me too. But we have a dozen pro-heroes on the case. Trust in us a little.”

Izuku props his elbow on the desk, head in hand, and he smiles sleepily.

“I love you.”

Shouto faulters a little in the doorway. He thinks about Izuku being tossed through a seven-story building, thinks of how he stood up as if it was nothing. Green lightning shooting through the air faster than you can track with the naked eye – the number one hero, and he’s here drinking coffee with a face full of stubble and greasy hair.

“I love you too,” Shouto says a little too soft. “I’m texting them right now.”

“Haha Shouto!”


Katsuki and The Three Losers:

You> Does anyone mind checking on Izuku while im gone

Bakugou Katsuki > he’s doin it again isn’t he

Kirishima Eijirou > AYE AYE CAP’N ( ̄ー ̄)ゞ

Midoriya Izuku > Guyss (ಥ﹏ಥ) I’m 28 I don’t need a babysitter,,

You > he hasn’t slept or ate since yesterday

Bakugou Katsuki > deku im gonna fuckign kill u



It’s already sundown when Shouto reaches the firm again. He’s numb as he stands in the shower, doing the bare minimum to get rid of the dirt and grime.

He spent most of his day working on leads with Tokoyami. It turns out he did have good info on the case, and they ran into a couple scraps in the rough part of town, and Shouto didn’t realize the time until he checked his phone.

He feels a bit bad for harking on Izuku when he knows he’s just as bad. Shouto texts Izuku to let him know he’s coming home, and doesn’t bother putting on headphones as he walks back to the apartment. There’s no paps around thank god, because he’s not sure if he has the patience to deal with the cameras tonight.

He waves a tired hello to the girl at the front desk and presses the elevator button with his elbow.

There’s light streaming from underneath his door. Shouto throws the lock and pauses when he hears muffled music coming from somewhere deep in his apartment.

Shouto stealthily closes the door and removes his shoes. All the lights are on, and there’s loud music coming from their office. Shouto spots extra shoes at the entryway, and calms a little as he hears laughing.


I want it all


Shouto pushes open the door with his foot, and the office is somehow even more of a disaster than it was before. Shouto’s heart swells so big, he suddenly can’t breathe.


I’ve got this lovesick feeling


Eijirou has both of Izuku’s hands trapped in his own, and they’re dancing around the office in the same stupid manner they used to dance around the dormrooms.

Eijirou pulls them around the office, singing terribly, and Izuku laughs and laughs, tripping over papers and swinging Eijirou around the mess on the floor.



But there’s nothing like it, nothing at all


Shouto can only stare. His hand is gripped painfully tight into the doorway, almost afraid to breathe, like it’ll all disappear.

“Cute, huh.”

Katsuki’s voice nearly makes him jump into another dimension. Shouto slaps a hand over his heart, and Katsuki lifts an eyebrow at his reaction.

“Ah,” Shouto says, and watches Izuku lift Eijirou off his feet and laugh. “Yeah. What happened?”

“We came to help,” Katsuki shrugs. “We’ve heard about the enhancers and the kidnappings back at our district. Better to work together than let that idiot take it all on himself.”

Shouto sighs, “That’s what I keep saying.”

“Eijirou convinced him it was break time,” Katsuki explains. Izuku’s face is red from laughing, and Eijirou squeezes his cheeks and sings the lyrics off key.


I know your hearts still beating.


Shouto leans his shoulder up against the doorway. Katsuki looks between him, and the mess in the office.

“This is kind of what it’s all about, isn’t it?”

Shouto jerks to look at him. Katsuki is leaning up against the adjacent side, and Shouto can feel the heat of him just by standing here. He’s gotten more handsome in his years. There’s no wrinkles in sight, but Katsuki has sun spots and a sharp jaw and no babyfat left anywhere on his body.

Shouto stares a moment longer, and then says,

“Yeah, it is.”

Katsuki snaps his gum. Izuku is trying to smother Eijirou’s mouth to keep him from singing. They look so happy – Shouto doesn’t know why it hurts his heart so much. Maybe it’s a good kind of hurt.

Katsuki is still glaring at him. Not really, but his default stare is always angry anyways. Except his eyes soften, and it looks as if he’s waiting for something. Katsuki looks Shouto down and up, and Shouto feels exposed from it.

The moment passes quick. The soft look melts back into anger, and Katsuki hipchecks Shouto out of the doorway to pass into the office.

“Playtime’s over,” Katsuki snaps. “You’re steppin’ on all the shit we just spent two hours sorting. I ain’t picking this up.”

“We’ll do it, Kacchan,” Izuku laughs. He spots Shouto in the doorway and gasps. “Oh! You made it home!”

“Sorry I’m late,” Shouto says. He pulls out his phone, “Do you want to know what I found?”


“I’ll get a pencil!”

“Watch where you’re stepping, moron!”



I want it all



“This is so goddamn stupid,” Katsuki growls, sinking lower in the booth. “We’re not even stealth heroes.”

“We’ve been over this,” Shouto hisses. “The kingpin has an enhanced icespitting quirk. It would be –“

“-dangerous for anyone else, I know shut up,” Katuski snaps. He tugs the cap further down on his head. “I can’t believe the association convinced me to do this. We look so stupid, they’ll spot us right away.”

“They will if you keep talking so loud.”

They’re lucky to have the cover of EDM music and drunk chatter. There are female strippers wearing little to no clothing, parading around on little pedestals, and Shouto could not care less. Katsuki has been trying to scare off a dancer for the better part of half an hour, but the meaner he is the quicker she comes back.

“Fuck off,” Katsuki snaps, and slinks back down. Shouto picks at the paint covering his scar, and stops himself again when Katsuki kicks him from under the table. “Where’d cowface go?”

“Kalf is working on the security cameras. The quicker we are, the better chances we have of avoiding an all out brawl.”

“You know I don’t give a shit, I’d say fuck it and blow this place to all hell.”

Shouto sighs, “Yeah, I know.”

As much as Katsuki bitches, Shouto knows he’s still taking it seriously. His eyes flick back and forth, posture relaxed, but his eyes constantly moving. He’s aware of every person moving in and around this club, and that is what makes Katsuki good for these missions.

This particular gang has zero qualms about taking civilian casualties. There are medic heroes standing by, but they can’t have a police presence without scaring off the gang.

“That it,” Katsuki nods, and Shouto glances to the little waitress exiting the heavily guarded hallway. She nods to them, and Shouto and Katsuki make their move.

It’s midnight, which means a shift change for the guards. It’s when security is at it’s minimum, so they’re able to down the bodyguards easily without using their quirks.

Katsuki is nothing if but efficient. He grabs a guard by the jaw, muffles his cry and chokes him out into the crook of his elbow. Shouto downs the other with a knee and a jab to the throat, and both guards drop at the same time.

“Nice,” Katsuki whispers. Shouto motions down the hall, and Katsuki nods.

They just need to single out the boss alone. The rest of the gang wont attack if they have the head of the snake, which’ll help slow some of the human trafficking at the least; and if they’re lucky, they might just confiscate some of the enhancers.

The hallway is red and the floor is velvety and the whole place smells like cigars and burnt rubber. Shouto can hear the distant buzz of a tattoo machine, and they duck beneath the window as they pass by.

“This place smells like shit,” Katsuki whispers.

“Shh!” Shouto hesitates. There’s a sound; the single click of a door. Shit.

It seems like Katsuki is already on it. He throws a hand over Shouto’s mouth, yanks open one of the random doors, and pulls it shut. Shouto inhales as he’s thrown into darkness, the only light coming in from the small window towards the top of the door.

Katsuki tugs Shouto further away from the door – and they startle as a mop falls. It’s an unoccupied closet, thank goodness. Shouto rips Katsuki’s hand off his mouth.

“What are you –“

“Shut up!”

A crowd walks by the door. They’re all large men in business suits, and Shouto recognizes their tattoos as the Spider gang’s symbol. Shouto doesn’t doubt that they could take them all – but not in such a heavily populated area, and definitely not if they want to grab the leader alive.

“Shit,” Shouto whispers. “They’ll pull the boss as soon as we pick a fight.”

“I know that,” Katsuki growls huskily against his ear, and Shouto has a very enlightened moment of; oh god no.

Shouto can feel a table digging into his thigh. This closet is filled with random shit he can’t see, and of course the group of men have chosen to stand right outside their door and talk. Most of the mumbling is too low to hear, but you can pick up bits and pieces.

“What, the purple one?”

“Yeah, she’s a right babe. She’ll suck ya’ off for not even fifty, no rubber.”

“Damn, I’ve been ripped off.”

“Disgusting,” Katsuki whispers. Shouto nods, and he feels Katsuki’s hand grip harder into his hip, and Shouto wants to bat him off before this goes south, literally.

Katsuki’s breath is hot against his neck. He’s an inch or so shorter, but Shouto is slouched from the cramped closet space, and when he tries to shift his weight, there’s a slight scratching sound as denim rubs against denim.

Katsuki breathes out, and Shouto holds his breath.

“Goddamn, can they shut up already?”

Shouto is afraid to reply. Katsuki’s chest presses to his back as he leans forward to hear better, and Shouto panics, jerking forward, and the table hits the wall with a light thump.

“What was that?”

Fuuuuuck. Shouto squeezes his eyes shut, and Katsuki goes rigid. Shouto slams a hand against the table to balance his weight, and Katsuki grabs him around the waist to keep Shouto from falling over and busting his nose.

“No idea, let’s get moving before the boss has our asses.”

“Do you think Panama has mosquitoes? I fuckin’ hate bugs.”

“They’re by the equator, dude. There’s probably bugs.”

“What’s an equator?”

The conversation gets quieter as they walk away. Shouto lets out a breath.

“Wow, your clumsy ass is lucky that worked,” Katsuki says against his ear. And of course, because the stars align, Katsuki’s crotch rocks against his ass as he pushes upright, and Shouto makes the world’s most pathetic noise.

Katsuki freezes, Shouto freezes, everyone freezes.

And yes, before you ask, Katsuki is incapable of the socially acceptable option of letting it go.

“Are you getting off on this?”

“Shut up,” Shouto hisses. “We need to – ah –“

Shouto cries out breathily as Katsuki forces him further over the table, and slots his hips snug against Shouto’s ass. The position is lewd, and Shouto feels his face go red as Katsuki tugs off the wig he’s wearing and threads his fingers into Shouto’s real hair until they’re tight at the root.

“That’s naughty, Shou-to,” Katsuki purrs his name, and Shouto makes a punched sound into his forearm. “We’re trying to save kiddos here, and all you can think about is getting fucked.”

Shouto huffs, and the iciness of his breath illuminates from the orange light of the hall window.

“You’re the one that’s – fuck Katsuki.”

Katsuki mock rolls his hips as if they really were fucking in this stupid closet – and Shouto muffles a groan, shoes squeaking against the linoleum.

They need to go, they’re on the clock, there’s people waiting.

Shouto can’t see, so he shivers when Katsuki’s mouth is back up against his ear again.

“You like it just like this, huh baby? Well why didn’t you say so, I would’ve bent you over my knee weeks ago.”

Shouto is going to die. He’s going to curl up and die and his headstone will say Here Lies Todoroki Shouto, He Died In A Closet.

Katsuki’s hand is hot and sweaty against his stomach, scorching as he presses up under his flimsy t-shirt and breathes against his neck. For a very long, tantalizing moment, Shouto expects him to pull back and kiss him. Shouto is so fucking hard, the head of his dick catches on the lip of the table as Katsuki grinds his hips in another mock-thrust, and fuck these jeans, because Shouto can’t tell if he’s hard or not.

There’s a final slam of a door, and Shouto realizes oh, that is what Katsuki was stalling for.

And in a single heartbeat, Katsuki has let go of his hair and opened the closet door, dusting off his hands like nothing happened.

“Alright Icyhot, let’s go kick some ass.”

“Fuck. You.”










Chapter Text

Shouto washes the makeup off his face in the agency bathroom. He feels removed from it, almost numb as he scrubs it off with a towel. 

Like magic, his scar reappears. Shouto touches down the rough edges of it, before popping out the single brown contact and flushing it down the sink. His father's eye stares back at him, and Shouto doesn't flinch away from it like he used to, but he feels dissociated, his head full of too much at once. 

His phone is blowing up in his pocket. Probably the chief of police, probably Izuku asking where he is, probably their silly group chat, or the intern, or his publicist, or - 

Shouto turns his phone off and hits the gym. He needs to sweat this one out.



The Kingpin isn’t talking; which, fine. Interrogation isn’t Shouto’s job.

He is however, eternally fucked up by the incident in the closet. He tells Izuku about it because he doesn’t know what else to do. 

“That’s kind of ironic, don’t you think?”

“Funny, but I haven’t been in the closet for over a decade. I almost blew the mission, Izuku.”

“But you didn’t. Plus it sounded kind of hot,” Izuku hums. “Maybe you should talk to him?” Shouto makes a face, and Izuku laughs, “Yeah yeah, I know. But Kacchan and I went out for sushi last week and I ended up on my knees in some random alley, so maybe it’s just a side effect of spending too much time with him.”

Shouto nearly laughs.

“You what?”

“Err…there was no one around!” 

“I take it all back. You’re an exhibitionist.”

“Shut up! You want Kacchan to nail you.”

Shouto whacks Izuku with his pillow, and Izuku breaks into a laugh. 

“Jokes aside...” Izuku closes his book and scooches closer on the bed. “I’m kind of glad. I like when you two get along, I think you compliment each other in a strange but, really good way.”

Shouto hums, and Izuku rolls so he can lay across his chest. Izuku props up on his forearms so they’re nose to nose.

“Sorry about the alley BJ. I guess that could’ve been bad, huh?”

“That you’d be charged for public indecency, yeah.”

“But I mean – all it takes is one picture, right? Everyone will think we’re cheating.”

“But we know we’re not cheating, so what does it matter?” Shouto cups the side of his neck. “I run my own agency, screw the press.”

Izuku beams down at him. Shouto blinks.


“I just answered my own problem, didn’t I?”

“See? So smart and sexy,” Izuku pecks him. “You don’t even need me.”

“Now that’s just not true,” Shouto mumbles, and hums a happy sound as Izuku kisses him slow and intimate.

“I haven’t had enough of you lately,” Izuku murmurs.

“These villain attacks have been ridiculous.”

“I know. I’ve still got that bruise on my butt from getting kicked by the horse guy.”

Shouto reaches down and squeezes his ass. Izuku yips,

“Ow! Jerk.”


Both of their phones buzz on the side table. Shouto and Izuku pause, and stare nose to nose.

“I got it.” Izuku leans over and grabs his phone. “It’s the group chat – oh! Haha, looks like we’re not the only ones who chose to stay home.”

Izuku turns his phone around.

Katsuki and the Three Idiots

Kirishima Eijirou > Miss you guys!

Kirishima Eijirou > See Attachment

Shouto taps on the picture, and blinks rapidly. It’s a selfie from their bed; the two of them are kissing messily, Eijirou smiling into the kiss as he eyes the camera. Katsuki’s hand consumes the side of Eijirou’s neck, and it’s obvious that they’re naked.

“Damn,” Shouto says.

Izuku laughs, “We should send one back!”

“Of what?”

Izuku hums. His hair is extra curly, and he has new freckles from his recent time out in the sun, and Shouto can’t resist rubbing along his thighs as Izuku sits up to straddle him.

Izuku leans down to kiss him, and it’s so deliciously good that Shouto has already forgotten about the picture when Izuku slides down to suck on his neck. Shouto openly gasps, Izuku pulls away, and his phone clicks.

Shouto’s eyes bug wide, and he digs his thumb hard into Izuku’s thigh.

“You can’t send that!”

“Just did,” Izuku grins, and shows him a photo of himself. Jesus, he looks obscene. His head is tipped back and his neck is wet and red from Izuku’s mouth. There’s little indents from his teeth, and the only good part about it is his face is mostly out of frame.

The phones buzz one after another.

Kirishima Eijirou > DAMNNNNN

Kirishima Eijirou > FUCK! ME! UP!

Shouto stops reading in preference of staring up at the ceiling. Izuku giggles and reads aloud.

“Kacchan says you could have a career in porn. Ooh, they sent another picture. It’s – ah.” Izuku flushes. Shouto makes grabby hands, and Izuku passes the phone back and –

“Fuck me,” Shouto curses, setting the phone away. He blinks, but the image is still there; it was obviously taken from Kirishima’s view, straddling Katsuki as he rides him.

Izuku nervously chews on his thumbnail, and Shouto narrows his eyes.


“But –“

“Absolutely not.”


Shouto doesn’t even see the second picture until later, when he’s clearing out texts from his dad. There’s over thirty missed messages in the ‘Katsuki and the Three Losers’ group chat, and Shouto is immediately met with a lewd picture taken from Izuku’s view. Shouto’s nose is nuzzled in his thigh and the rest is censored with little heart stickers.

There’s colorful commentary from Eijirou, and a single fuck texted from Katsuki, and Shouto has to put his phone down and breathe.

Izuku sleeps like a little angel.

“Sneaky,” Shouto says fondly, and pushes the curls away from Izuku’s face.



Perched on the edge of a hospital bed, Shouto closes his eyes to the feeling of nails in his hair.  He hates the smell of his place. It’s too quiet, almost enough that Shouto can hear his own heart in his chest.

 “I don’t know what I’m doing, mom.”

He can hear the smile in her voice, “You don’t always have to.”

“More of my friends are getting married. Ochaco and Tsuyu are engaged, Iida’s wife is having a baby, and I’m still screwing around with dumb stuff like this.”

“Love isn’t dumb,” Mother says. “It’s just a journey.”



Shouto goes to knock on the front door, but it moves at the first brush of his knuckles. Shouto tenses, nudging open the door and checking for a forced entry.

Everything looks to be in place, so Shouto knocks twice and calls,


“Hey! Doors unlocked, baby.”

Shouto relaxes, closing the door behind him. He knows this house a little too well, and navigates to the living room, where the source of the noise is coming from.

Eijirou tips his head back over the edge of the couch and waves.

“You’re early! Izuku isn’t even here yet.”

“He’s actually going to be a bit later. There was a factory explosion near one of the beaches, and they’re still doing clean up.”

“Oh shit,” Eijirou frowns. “Does he need help?”

“They’re fine, Ochaco is with him,” Shouto says, discarding his scarf and coat. “You know, by leaving your door unlocked you’re just asking to be robbed.”

“I’d like to see a motherfucker try,” says Katsuki.  

Eijirou and Katsuki are cuddled up together, but Eijirou slides over to make room, patting the cushion.

“Come here come here! I want to see your pretty face.”

“You don’t have to move,” Shouto says, but takes the open spot. He eyes Katsuki nervously, but he’s relaxed with one foot up on the coffee table, and an arm thrown over the back of the couch. Eijirou squishes close so Shouto is thigh to thigh between them both.

“I heard about your terrible, no good very bad day,” Eijirou pouts sympathetically, hands coming up to cup Shouto’s face. Shouto offers a half smile, and covers Eijirou’s right hand with his own.

“I’m alright now. It was just so much continuous nonsense, I couldn’t catch a break.”

“The media’s been ruthless too,” Katsuki says, and Shouto resists a jump as his hand lazily slides along his waist and rests there. “Gimmie’ five minutes, I’ll put ‘em in their place.”

“My people can handle the smear campaigns. I just hate when a villain gets away from me.”

“Tch. The whole setup was bullshit anyways, it wasn’t your fault.”

Eijirou nods in agreement, and Shouto studies the new scabs healing over Eijirou’s forehead. He frowns.

“What about you? Feeling any better?”

“Loads better! I can even harden my skin again, see?” Eijirou’s face hardens into jagged rock, and then softens back under Shouto’s palm. “All good.”

Katsuki grunts, “Getting’ the shit kicked out of you never gets old, does it?”

“I’m starting to understand why people retire.”

Shouto rolls his thumb along Eijirou’s bottom lip. Eijirou’s big eyes blink down at him, and he parts his mouth obediently as Shouto thumbs over the tops of his teeth.

“I’m glad they fixed your tooth, you’d be a strange looking shark otherwise,” Shouto teases, and Eijirou snickers at him, catching his wrist and pulling it back down between them. The look Eijirou gives him turns butterflies in his stomach, and Shouto is suddenly reminded of the palm at his side.

Katsuki has turned his attention back to the TV, but Shouto knows he’s listening. They never really did talk after the espionage incident last week, and their schedules have been too messy to meet up otherwise, and fuck why is Shouto nervous.

Eijirou and Katsuki are exuding very calm, tired Sunday energy, so Shouto tries to show little emotion when Eijirou leans in close and bumps their noses, saying,

“Man, your eyes are just so fucking gorgeous, you know?”

“My marketing team sure does,” Shouto says, and is a little proud when he earns a bark of laughter from Katsuki.

Eijirou tips his mouth to kiss him, and Shouto holds him by the jaw to keep him there. The single kiss doesn’t last long, because Eijirou moves against him, pushing and pulling and nudging their noses together, and Shouto goes with it, fueled by the wet noises and the flick of his tongue.

Shouto jerks when Eijirou nudges him backwards. Suddenly off balance, Shouto throws out an arm, and Katsuki hauls him back so he’s laying against his chest.

“Calm down,” Katsuki chides. “You’re tense as hell.”

“I am not,” Shouto fights, but Eijirou just leans over him and does that thing with his tongue again, so he swirls his own and gets a happy moan in return.

Katsuki is just a wall behind him. Solid as all fuck, the musky smell of him suddenly everywhere. Shouto feels like the filling in a sandwich; a very warm sandwich.

“Woah,” Eijirou pulls back as Shouto regulates his temperature, cooling down the three of them. “That is like, so beyond useful.”

“Sorry,” Shouto mumbles. “Force of habit.”

“It’s like getting blasted by a cold air conditioner,” Katsuki blinks, and Shouto flushes as Katsuki’s hand comes around to press against the right side of his stomach. He doesn’t have much time to think about it, because Eijirou is making out with him again, and Shouto is trying very hard not to knee him in the crotch among their spaghetti bowl of legs.

Eijirou tastes like cola and mint gum. Each time their kiss parts and presses again, he becomes a little more addicted.

Shouto’s body rises and falls with Katsuki’s breathing. Eijirou decides to dip down and suck into Shouto’s neck – and he’s so stunned by the sudden punch of arousal, that he actually slams his head back on Katsuki’s shoulder and moans.

“Woah,” Eijirou and Katsuki say together. Shouto slaps a hand over his mouth and craves death.

The urge to run has him trying to squirm off the couch, but Katsuki locks him down like a seatbelt, and Eijirou stares at him like a clever cat.

“Oh no no, you’re not going anywhere, gorgeous.” Eijirou digs his thumb into his adam’s apple, and Shouto chokes a little.

“Uhh, police,” Shouto tries. “I’m being assaulted.”

“Nice try,” Katsuki says right in his goddamn ear, and Shouto traps another sound behind his teeth as Eijirou goes for that spot on his neck. The feeling of teeth against his skin almost makes his eyes roll back.

“Eijirou,” Shouto growls.

Shouto tugs on his hair hard enough to hurt, knee jerking up between Eijirou’s legs and Eijirou pulls back laughing, “Okay okay! I’ll be nice. Fuck ow – that was my balls.”

“He’s like a dog,” Katsuki says. “You have to put ‘em in his place or he’ll get away with everything.”

“Like you’re any better,” Shouto says. “I’ve seen you with Izuku. You send him home looking like he fucked a bear trap.”

“Well that’s different, because I’m the fucking king around here.”

“Is that right?” Eijirou reaches up to pinch Katsuki’s nose, and he makes a short choking sound. “The king that can’t breathe through his mouth.”

“Shut up!” Katsuki says nasally, and Shouto laughs, turning his head towards Eijirou’s bicep to muffle it. Eijirou dips his head and chases his mouth saying oh I’m not done with you – and suddenly they’re making out again, and Shouto can’t remember why he was nervous in the first place.

The front door creaks open, and then locks.

“Hey guys! The door was open and I saw Shouto’s car out front. Sorry I’m late, there was a powerplant that – oh!” Izuku blinks, and then smiles. “Well isn’t that a picture.”

Eijirou pops away with a smack and jerks his head up over the couch.

“You made it!”

“Hey…” Shouto waves dazedly. Izuku looks way too smug.

“Hi dear. You look comfortable.”

“Shut up.”

“What the hell’re you wearing?” Katsuki squints. “You’re trackin’ mud all over my floor.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t stop by the firm to shower because I would’ve had to backtrack.” Izuku scratches the back of his head, “Do you mind if I use yours?”

Like a dog presented with a new and shiny toy, Eijirou sits up and smirks.

“I can help you with that.”

“Really?” Izuku asks innocently. “I’ve never showered before, sir. You’re telling me water falls from the sky?”

“Isn’t technology amazing? Don’t be scared baby, I’ll hold your hand,” Eijirou plays along, and Katsuki slaps his butt as he jogs by.

“Bastard,” Katsuki calls. Shouto turns around to watch them scurry off to the bathroom. He becomes hyperaware of his tangled position with Katsuki the moment his hand falls to the dip in Shouto’s lower back.

Shouto looks down at him, and Katsuki stares back.

The shower turns on, and someone lets out a scream from the sudden cold, and Katsuki rolls his eyes.


“They’re cute,” Shouto corrects. Katsuki grunts, and Shouto is hit with the sudden need to run his hands through the spikes of his hair. He doesn’t, but he wants to.

“You’re pretty heavy for a twink,” Katsuki says, shifting his leg so Shouto can lay between his thighs.

Shouto scoffs, “I am not a twink.”

“It’s alright, I’ll introduce you to a mirror sometime.”

Shouto squints down at him, and Katsuki stares back – and it’s the light twitch of his mouth that gives him away. Shouto snorts, head dropping to Katsuki’s chest.

Katsuki’s hand drags up his back and it feels like fire.

A long moment passes, and Shouto breathes out to the sound of Katsuki’s heart beating heavily in his chest. They can hear the rushing water through the pipes, and Shouto never noticed Katsuki mute the TV, but the lights flash every now and then, and it’s serene in it’s own way.

Katsuki smells like caramel, like nitroglycerin and sweat. His hand rests at Shouto’s upper back, and it’s so shockingly gentle compared to the man who fires explosions and shouts die! die! die! on national TV.

Shouto wants.

He sits up again, and Katsuki tracks his movement.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Shouto says. “So don’t punch me.”

Katsuki’s eyes go wide.

Shouto thought their first kiss would be messy. Bruising and painful and rushed, maybe wet and something dirty. But it’s not.

Shouto leans in, Katsuki braces a hand at the back of his neck, and it’s soft. Closed mouthed and gentle as Shouto pulls back, nudges his nose the other way and kisses again. Little sparks jerk down his spine, and Katsuki makes a content humming noise.

For as rough as Katsuki is, his lips are really soft. They kiss slow, but it’s good, and Shouto gets the idea that Katsuki really knows what he’s doing. He runs his thumb along Shouto’s jaw when he pulls away.

“Finally. Took you long enough.”

Shouto squints, “You were waiting on me?”

“We kept making all the moves. This had to be something you wanted.”

Shouto subconsciously licks across his bottom lip, as if to taste him again. Katsuki’s eyes track the movement like a predator.

“I do,” Shouto says. “Unfortunately.”

Katsuki huffs and yanks him back down by the neck, and this one is fiery, deep and consuming and hungry, and Shouto is determined to show him just how much he wants this.

It’s like firecrackers in his mouth. Like candy poprocks on his tongue.

“Wait.” Katsuki pulls away, and Shouto nearly groans. “Hold on.”


“I need to…” Katsuki starts, and bites off sharp. He turns his head away, “Fuck, okay. Listen. I’m sorry about the collab mission last week. That was… kind of uncalled for.”

The apology catches Shouto off guard. He blinks quickly, and presses a hand flat to Katsuki’s chest, right at the collar of his Metallica t-shirt.

“It’s okay,” he says, dipping his fingers along Katsuki’s neck. “I was into it.”

Katsuki looks back to him and grins wolfish.

“Yeah? You a slut?”


They kiss again, and Shouto breathes a sigh out of his nose, slipping his tongue along Katsuki’s and soaking in the tingly feeling he gets from it.

“God you’re a good fuckin’ kisser,” Katsuki curses.

“Wow, a compliment. How hard was it for you to say that?”

“I will punch you in the dick.”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t. I kind of need it.”

“Yeah, in my mouth,” Katsuki purrs, and Shouto goes for his bottom lip, sucking on it and fighting back against that wicked tongue. Katsuki makes a pained sound, and Shouto’s entire body shivers, their teeth clacking from the strength of Katsuki’s hand in his hair.

“Shit,” Shouto grits, because there’s no chance of hiding how hard he is.

Katsuki growls into his mouth; “Bed.”

“What? Getting too old for the couch already?”

Move it.

“Ah-“ Shouto hiccups, going crosseyed from the mouth at his neck. “What about Izuku and Eijirou?”

“They’ll be busy for a while,” Katsuki grins, and Shouto blows cold air in his face to avoid his own blush. Katsuki shoves him off the couch, and Shouto laughs as his shoulders hit the floor.



Now is the time, Shouto thinks, he wishes he didn’t leave his phone on the coffee table.

Katsuki is a sight between his legs, mouth buried to the very hilt of his cock, two fingers deep and unapologetic about it.

Shouto lets out a soundless cry, curling up and digging both hands into Katsuki’s hair, and Katsuki flattens his tongue and scissors his fingers and Shouto nearly dies. He draws his knees up to Katsuki’s shoulders, flinching from the intense pleasure/pain – and Katsuki slams his left thigh down with his hand.

“Fuck your legs are so long,” Katsuki tells him, smoothing up to his hip flexor. “It’s a real goddamn crime I’ve had to see you naked so many times without touchin’. I deserve a nobel peace prize.”

“Katsuki,” Shouto wheezes. “I – ah, careful!” He startles at the press of a third finger.

“Damn you’re tight.”

“It hurts, bastard.”

“Maybe if you let those two top more you wouldn’t be in this position now would you?”

“I do too,” Shouto flushes, but sighs in relief as Katsuki adds more lube and starts to thrust his fingers in earnest. “S-Sorry I don’t have all the time in the world to screw around like you do.”

“I know you’re talkin’ shit to piss me off, but you’re really too hot to make me mad,” Katsuki says, still petting down his pale inner thigh. Katsuki curls his fingers, and Shouto sighs.

“Now that’s an accomplish – fuck!!!” Shouto startles, foot planting into Katsuki’s hip as he trembles. It feels so good he’s shaking, his right hand frosting over.

“Got it, fucker,” Katsuki grins. He leans over and spits on the head of his cock, before taking him down in one smooth slide and arching his fingers again, and Shouto’s eyes nearly bug out of his head.

“Stop stop stop,” Shouto slaps his shoulder. “I’ll come, stop.

Katsuki licks circles under the head and pulls out his fingers.

“Thought you had a better fuse than that, Icyhot.”

Shouto glares at him, but Katsuki leans up to hold his hand where Shouto is icing the sheets. He yanks back startled, “Sorry –“ but Katsuki locks their fingers together and leans up to kiss him.

“All good?”

Shouto smooths his hands down Katsuki’s strong stomach, and feels where he’s hard and snug against Shouto’s hip. Pulling at the elastic of his sweatpants, Shouto huffs,

“Come on.”

It’s the most intense feeling he’s ever had. Katsuki doesn’t even take off his pants, just shoves down the elastic to his thighs like he can’t wait a second longer. Shouto is so taken with him, with the hard chiseled muscle, sweat at his hairline and the rough grip on his thighs – Shouto almost forgets about the sting, gasping only when Katsuki is over halfway in.

“You’re too big,” Shouto cries.

“Suck it up buttercup, you’re almost there,” Katsuki tells him. “Fuck you’re cut, you been hittin’ the gym again?”

“Again? I ahhn, n-never stopped.”

“Eh, you were lookin’ pretty squishy there.”

“I was not- “ Shouto fights, and then realizes Katsuki is all the way in. Shouto glares at him, and Katsuki challenges a look back, too satisfied for his own good. Shouto grinds down against him and grips a hand into his bicep, and the smug look on his face squeezes into a groan.

Katsuki pulls out and rocks back in. Shouto realizes that he, in fact, does not have the advantage here, and is not liable for any of the garbage that comes spilling out of his mouth.

Shouto moans, and it’s like an audible snap in the room, all the chivalry melting away as Katsuki plants a hand in the sheets and fucks him braindead.

Katsuki’s hands slip and scratch from sweat and callouses, and Shouto’s hand sizzles hot against his neck, and the sounds Katsuki makes, heavy grunts and rasps against his ear – Shouto is done done done. He’ll never be okay again.

There’s talking and laughter in the bathroom, but Shouto doesn’t register any of it. Katsuki rolls him over, secures him by the neck and Shouto drools into the pillow, choking back sounds and trying to breathe through the heat of it all. His dick is trapped into the sheets, and it forces him to focus on Katsuki at his back, sensitive to the sound of skin hitting skin, of feeling so full he might just pop.

It hurts, but he likes it. Katsuki’s hand crackles against his skin, and Shouto vaguely thinks of how dangerous it would be to catch fire right now – but it’s that sense of danger that makes him bite the pillow and groan.

“Hey Shouto,” Katsuki purrs, controlling the pace to a dangerous snap and drag of his hips. “You remember our fight with Switch a few years ago? That coward with the knife quirk and the, nn, giant bird.”

Shouto grits, “Is now really the time?” Katsuki squeezes his neck and slows the pace, and Shouto curses, “Fuck! Yes, what about him?”

“You n’ Deku were real assholes. Left me to do all the cleanup.”

Shouto colors at the memory, “Yeah?”

Katsuki’s mouth is against his skin again, like a wolf at his neck, full of danger and instinct.

“Deku was the only one with some common sense to toss his fuckin’ in-ear.”






Shouto groans, eyes watering as his cock digs further into the sheets.

“You heard the whole thing.”

“Heard Deku suckin’ you dry, hah, that’s what I heard,” Katsuki grunts. “You fucks made me so hard I couldn’t even see straight. Come on, let me hear those noises again.”

“Sh-shit —“

“Come on gorgeous, tell me what you want.”

“Let me flip,” Shouto rasps. Katsuki pulls out long enough for Shouto to roll on his back, and Katsuki slides back in like a punch to the gut, holding Shouto’s wrists down by one hand and biting into his mouth.

Shouto could break out of his grip. Plant a foot to his chest and freeze his core, flip him off the bed and choke him out with his thigh.

But Shouto surrenders, and lets the hungry look on Katsuki’s face consume him.

Katsuki nails his prostate right on. Shouto nearly screams.

“Spit in my mouth,”  Shouto demands.

“Fuuuuck,” Katsuki curses, like he got the wind knocked out of him. He lets go of his wrists in favor of clenching a hand around his jaw, and Shouto’s eyes roll shut as he squeezes brutal and forces his lips wide, spitting right in his mouth and kissing him after.

Shouto has been on the edge for too long, but it’s the moan Katsuki vibrates against his teeth that really does him in. Shouto slaps his shoulder repeatedly, forcing Katsuki back so he can wriggle a hand between them and wrap around his cock – and Katsuki shoos his hand away, rolling onto one arm to do it himself.

He keens when he orgasms, blunt nails digging into Katsuki’s back painfully hard. Katsuki chokes above him, and Shouto just lays there and throbs, spasming as Katsuki faceplants into Shouto’s neck and hisses.

Shouto is shaking, but he still has enough motor skills to blearily gaze up to the ceiling and mumble,

“Come on, Katsuki. You’re mine, you’re mine, I’ve got you.”

There’s a bitten choke against his neck, Katsuki thrusting shallowly and going still, and Shouto closes his eyes to really feel it.

Katsuki’s weight crushes down on him. He’s heavy, but the force is nice, like a weighted blanket.

He didn’t realize how much sound they were making until the room goes dead silent. It’s sizzling with leftover energy, with the tension that bleeds out of them.

“Fine,” Katsuki mumbles. “You’re a good lay.”

Shouto breathes a laugh out of his nose, and settles his right hand against Katsuki’s neck to cool him down. Katsuki makes an appreciative noise, and Shouto winces when he shifts.

“This is why Izuku bottoms. His pain tolerance is out of this world.”

Katsuki frowns. He sits up on his forearms to look down and ask, “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Shouto brings his hand around to cool Katsuki’s forehead. “You just blew out my back.”

Katsuki barks a laugh in his face, “Old man!”

“I will set you on fire.”

“Everyone make room for the geezer, need me to grab your walker?”

“Get out of me,” Shouto scowls, and the bathroom door swings open, a myriad of steam billowing into the hall.

Eijirou steps one foot into the room, Izuku adjusting his own towel behind him, and they stop in their tracks at the doorway. Eijirou takes one look and shouts,


Katsuki takes a look at them in response.

“Holy shit Eijirou, did you try to eat him?”

“Pot kettle motherfucker, how dare you.”

“Give me your towel,” Katsuki demands, trashing the condom.

“I don’t think I will.”

“You shits used up all the hot water, give me your fucking towel.”

Eijirou and Katsuki start to bicker, and Izuku flops forwards on the bed, right into Shouto’s open arms. His skin is warm and wet and bruised and he smells like soap.

“Good, huh?”

“You’re carrying me to the car tomorrow.”

“Deal,” Izuku laughs. Shouto studies his neck and bites back a laugh. “Damn it’s humid in here.”

“Who’s fault is that? Ya’ll are gonna’ attract all the mosquitos—“

Shouto sits up as if jabbed with a cow prodder. He slams his hand against the sheets, drawing the three’s attention and cutting through the room. 

He gasps,




It’s not until the next day, when Shouto is watching Katsuki blast himself several feet in the air, then kick a goon in the jaw and land among a multitude of explosions, does Shouto pause to think.

A villain runs at him with a sword, and Shouto freezes him up to his neck.

“Did I really leave my mic on?” Shouto asks aloud.

Katsuki stops, dropping a criminal by the throat. He squints in that familiar what the fuck are you talking about – type of way, but then blinks with clarity, and grins. He hikes up his voice,

“Please please please, I need you –“

“Alright that’s enough,” Shouto scowls. He can see a jerk of green electricity, and a gust of wind blows down the alley from the sheer force of Izuku’s abrupt stop.

He can hear fuzzy through his earpiece,

“Wait, WHAT?!”



The whole house smells like meat and vegetables. It’s warm from the heat in the kitchen, and Shouto has found a ridiculously comfortable crevice in the couch, so he nods off here and there.

“Izuku honey,” Eijirou says, “You’ve been at it all day, you need to give it a break.”

Izuku is sitting on the floor; the coffee table is covered in reports, notebooks, and his laptop.

“I know but – I’m just so frustrated. It’s totally not improbable that the spider gang is working out of La Chorrea. Plant-based quirks are common there, and the bacteria for the enhancers has to be grown naturally in a humid climate. The last strain was tracked to the Philippines – god I’m such an idiot!”

“Yeah,” Katsuki agrees, earning a one-eyed glare from Shouto. “But now ya’ know, so. Let that old dog deal with the investigation and take a goddamn nap.”

“Aww,” Eijirou says, coming to step into the kitchen. He wraps his arms around Katsuki’s middle, the knot of his apron coming to rest at Eijirou’s belly. “That was almost nice of you.”

“Get off me! I hate when you hang on me while I’m cookin’.”

“But you’re just too cute,” Eijioru purrs, kissing the spot on the back of his neck, and Katsuki shivers.

“Fuck off!”  Katsuki bonks his head with the ladle. “You’re going to get burned.”

“Haven’t been burned yet~”

“Well…” Shouto thinks on last week, where Eijirou rode him on the couch and Shouto branded his left hand onto his ass.

Eijirou seems to read his mind, because he pulls his hands back to Katsuki’s hips and laughs.

“That mark faded by the way. I’m kind of heartbroken about it.”

Katsuki tries to elbow him off again, mumbling something like assholes and feed themselves next time – and Eijirou is one of the few people alive that could get away with grabbing Katsuki by the jaw and kissing his cheek. Katsuki distractedly leans in for a second peck before Eijirou pulls away and starts rummaging through the cabinets.

He’s sans shirt as usual, red hair pulled back by a headband. The sweatpants he’s wearing are too long (probably because they’re Shouto’s), so they sag at the hips and bunch at his ankles and Shouto doesn’t realize he’s staring until he sees Izuku doing it too.

“Does anyone want some water? I bought this new ice-cube tray that makes ice shaped like little weenie dogs!”

“Hey Eijirou,” Izuku calls contently, cheek squished in one hand, elbow on the table.

Eijirou turns around on a dime, nodding seriously.  


“I love you,” Izuku says.

Katsuki drops his ladle in the pot and curses.

Eijirou just stands there, and Shouto blinks between them. He has half a second to duck, because Eijirou takes on a dead run and vaults the couch, football tackling Izuku to the floor and wrapping him up in a full body hug.

“I love you too!” Eijirou squeezes, and Izuku lets out a wheezy laugh as he tries to get his arms back around him. They look like a big muscle sandwich.

Shouto doesn’t realize he’s said that out loud until Katsuki chuffs a laugh from the kitchen.

“Losers,” Katsuki says fondly, then hisses as he tries to fish the ladle out of his boiling soup.

Shouto pokes at Eijirou’s butt with his foot. Eijirou digs his face out of Izuku’s neck to look back at him, and Shouto offers a smile hoping he understands.

Eijirou smiles goofy and rolls Izuku on top of him, and there’s a chorus of ow, my head and watch the coffee table and hey don’t bite me we have the gala next week and too bad I already did, and Shouto closes his eyes again, comfortable enough to doze in and out until rough fingers scratch at his hair and say wake up Halfie, dinner’s done, and it’s good.

“Do you guys…” Shouto starts, and then trails off as he thinks of the non-stop week they’ve had. He shoves food in his mouth to cover for his outburst, but it was easily noticed.

“Do we what?” Izuku prods.

Shouto shrugs a shoulder and swallows.

“Spit it out,” Katsuki snaps.

Shouto blinks down at his food and thinks well, she asked.

“I’m going to see my mother tomorrow. Would you like to come meet her?”

The annoyed look on Katsuki’s face melts into understanding. Izuku eyes Katsuki and Eijirou like he’ll spear them alive if they answer wrong.

“I’d be honored,” Eijirou bows.

Katsuki sinks in his chair a little, but he appears flattered. “Sure.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Nah, tell her we’re comin’. Does she like sukiyaki?”

“I believe so. I’m not supposed to bring food in the ward, but I sneak it in all the time.”

“We can do that,” Eijirou says. “All my years of bringing snacks in the theater has trained me for this moment.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, Eijirou steals the egg off his plate, and Shouto looks over when he feels Izuku squeeze his knee.

Shouto breathes out, the stress pooling out of him.



The good thing is; they found the warehouse stockpiled with enhancers fresh off a boat from Panama.

The bad part is, it resulted in an all out quirk war that landed Shouto in a coma for three days. You know, you win some you lose some.

It feels like his head is splitting right down the middle. Shouto wakes slowly, taking a while to exert the effort of opening his eyelids. It feels like there’s sand in his eyes, and it takes time to blink away the grittiness. He’s sensitive to the light coming in from the window, and Shouto takes a look around the room when he can see again.

Eijirou is knocked out in one of the chairs. Head tipped back, drooling, the whole nine yards. Shouto remembers conversations in his sleep, nothing that he can string together, but he knows he was never alone.

Shouto is able to register two people standing by the window, and his heart begins to ache.

Katsuki is just holding Izuku. It’s loose enough that Izuku can set his head on Katsuki’s shoulder – but Shouto watches him squeeze tight, and Izuku’s sniffle sounds loud against the linoleum.

Izuku isn’t crying – but he has the puffiness and the swelling that shows that he has been for a while.

Katsuki’s hand drags up and down his back. Up and down, up and down.

“Sorry,” Izuku croaks. He swallows, and Shouto can see him put on his brave face, the mask he slips on for the public. “You two should go home, you’ve been here long enough.”

“Quit that shit, we’ll leave when you do.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Then neither are we.”

Izuku presses his face into Katsuki’s shirt and sighs an attempt at a laugh.

“It’s so dumb. We get injured all the time, but I never get used to seeing him in that bed.” Izuku swallows. “Any of you.”

Katsuki sighs. He rests his cheek against Izuku’s head, and continues to slowly rub into the knots on his back.

“It’s ‘cause-“ Katsuki starts, and then freezes. Shouto blinks at him, and Katsuki’s eyes go wide.

“Because of what?” Izuku asks. He leans back far enough to follow Katsuki’s gaze, and he nearly jerks out of his skin when he sees Shouto awake.

“Oh my god, Shouto!”

“Morning,” Shouto croaks, and lets out an oof sound as Izuku climbs over the bedrail and squeezes him.

“You’re awake!”

“Huh, what?!” Eijirou startles, and then jumps out of his chair. “Is he up?!”

Katsuki points, and Eijirou stumbles to the other side of the bed. Shouto must have no physical injuries left, because Katsuki doesn’t throw a fit when Eijirou sits up on the other side.

“You scared me shitless,” Izuku muffles. Shouto finds the strength to wrap an arm around him.

“I’m sorry. How long was I out?”

“Almost four days,” Eijirou says, pushing back his multicolored bangs. “You – you smacked your dome pretty bad, dude. They were able to heal your injuries, but you wouldn’t wake up.”

“How do you feel?” Izuku asks, sitting up.

“Uhh, fine. Just a headache.” And extreme fatigue, but Shouto doesn’t want to scare them away.

Katsuki lifts his gaze from the floor, fuming as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Just ‘cause I call you Half n’ Half doesn’t mean you should go out there tryin’ to live up to the name. You almost split your skull in two.”

Shouto blinks, and lifts his hand back to feel around the tender spot of his head. There’s only a faded line from the healed stitches, but the underside of his hair has been shaved.

“Hey, we match now,” Shouto teases. Izuku lets out a laugh, and then a sob, and smothers himself back into his shoulder.

“I’m really fucking pissed at you,” Katsuki growls. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Actually, Shouto knows exactly what he was thinking.

He can remember it clearly; the roof of the warehouse blown to bits, a gang member with an enhanced earth quirk blowing a house-sized boulder out of the ground, Izuku fending off another strength villain, and Katsuki with Eijirou in his arms, preparing to move him to a safer location before rejoining the fight.

The cement-infused projectile was headed right for them, and Shouto was there, and it was like there wasn’t even an option.

“What was I thinking?” Shouto echoes. He looks at Katsuki from over Izuku’s shoulder, glances to Eijirou and back, and tangles his hand into green curls. “That I love you,” he says.

Katsuki’s eyes go round as saucers. Izuku jerks up in his arms, and Eijirou falls dead silent.

It’s the truth. Shouto knows it is, and he can’t pretend any longer. It was never a game, it was never casual, and they were probably doomed from the start.

“Fuck,” Katsuki says. A long pause, and then “Fuck!” he shouts, and kicks the folding chair, sending it flying against the wall. They jump as it clatters, and Katsuki turns to Eijirou and snarls. “Fuck you. This is all your fault, you’re the one that dragged me into all this touchy-feely shit.”

Izuku’s face twists into fury, and he jumps to his feet in outrage. “Kacchan! How could you –“

He’s stopped by Eijirou’s hand. Eijirou shakes his head, and Shouto feels like his heart might be breaking.

“Fuck you, fuck you,” Katsuki fumes, pacing with his hands in his hair. “Now I’ve just got one more weakness, one more – why didn’t you just let me be a prickly old grouch and die alone?!”

Izuku opens his mouth to interject, but Eijirou stops him with another shake of his head.

And as if pulled by a string, Katsuki sits down on the edge of the bed and plants his face in his hands, all the fight bleeding out of him.

“Fuck.” Katsuki says. “Of course I love you.”

Shouto’s breath leaves him all at once.

“Don’t you dare call us weak,” Izuku says. “You can call us anything else, but we are not --

“That’s not what he means,” Shouto says, drawing their collective attention. “Right?”

Katsuki stares at him. After a moment he reaches to squeeze his ankle through the blanket, and looks away somberly.

“It just gives me more to lose,” Katsuki settles. Izuku threads their fingers together in understanding, and Katsuki lets him.

“You won’t lose us,” Shouto says.

“Come back to me when ya ain’t inna’ hospital bed.”

“No more comas,” Izuku pleads.

“Hospitals should have a rewards system,” Eijirou says. “Like the boba place. On your tenth visit you get a free sundae.”

“Hell no. I’d be up to my tits in ice cream.”

Shouto starts to laugh outright, but goes into a coughing fit as his throat runs dry.

“Shit, I’m going to get the nurse,” Eijirou says, popping off the bed. Shouto shoots out to grab his wrist.

“Wait. You were injured too. Are you okay?”

“Little ole me?” Eijirou smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. You gave me a pretty bad scare though.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Shouto promises, and Eijirou leans over the rail to press his dry lips to his forehead.

“You better.”

It feels like someone’s trying to squeeze open his head with a nutcracker, but it’s going to be okay, he thinks.

Even if it hurts. Even if his hubris is his own downfall, it’s going to be okay, because it will have been worth it.

Izuku looks at him with all the love in the world, and that’s how Shouto knows. 



It's good to be back in his own apartment again. Fuck, it's good to back in his own bed again.

They wouldn't let him leave the hospital for another day, which was the biggest waste of time in his life. At least Izuku brought him the spider gang reports, and damn stamping COMPLETE never felt so good. 

Their bed isn't as big as Eijirou and Katsuki's. For a moment, Shouto isn't sure if they'll all fit. But Eijirou pulls Izuku in his arms and Katsuki forces Shouto straight in the middle, and it seems like his worrying was all for nothing. 

An American cartoon is playing low on the TV. Shouto has an arm around Eijirou, and dozes in and out as Izuku talks on about the chemicals found in these new confiscated enhancers. Eijirou is so tender with him, nodding along and asking questions - but he's honest too, pinching his cheek when he rambles too long and says at an 8th grade level please, and Izuku laughs like wind chimes and airy symphonies.

Shouto expected them to go home, especially after all the grief he's put them through. But they were very adamant about staying over, and it's not like Shouto is going to complain. Actually the opposite.

The memories don't haunt him when he's distracted like this. It's easier to forget the smack of his head against the pavement, and the sheer rush of panic and adrenaline.  

Shouto feels a hand on his thigh. Shouto looks back to see Katsuki with his eyes closed, flat on his back with the other hand behind his head. Shouto rolls over and towards him, rubbing a hand into Katsuki's fuzzy thigh in return. 

Katsuki pops open an eye. 

"Can't sleep?" Katsuki asks. "I can shut 'em up." 

"They're fine. I spent all day in a hospital bed, I'll probably be up for a while." 

"Want me to tire you out?" 

"Very funny." Shouto props his head in one hand. "Are you okay?" 

Katsuki scoffs, "The fucks' that supposed to mean? I didn't blow my brains out on the floor." 

Eijirou and Izuku are still chattering quietly behind him. Shouto drops his voice so it won't be carried. 

"Then what was that outburst yesterday?" 

Shouto expects to be met with rage and defense, but Katsuki closes his eyes and sighs. 


"You don't need to apologize. I just want to know if I said something I shouldn't have." 

Katsuki turns his head to look at him, frowning as he grips hard into Shouto's knee. 

"Absolutely not. I was just actin’ like a dick." 


"Why??" Katsuki growls, and there it is. "The fuck am I - I don't know, okay. I'd spent three days feelin' like I was gonna throw up every time I looked at you. You weren't movin', you weren't nothing. Just fuckin' fuck." Katsuki rolls on his side and yanks Shouto towards him. "I realized it was permanent. We're not just some dudes having fun. This shits real." 

"I meant it," Shouto says. “What I said.”

"I know." 

The room is silent, and Shouto realizes that Eijirou and Izuku were listening in. 

The sheets shift, and he feels a large hand slide along Katsuki’s, where it rests on Shouto’s thigh. He can feel the cold press of Eijirou’s wedding ring, like an iron brand.

“I want it to be permanent,” Eijirou says.

“What’s that mean?”  Izuku asks.

“It means some poor shit is gonna’ have four dads one day.”

Shouto’s heart stops, hikes up into his throat, and goes into overdrive all at once. He blinks furiously against the sting in his eyes, but Izuku just full on cries.

Eijirou rolls back over laughing, “Awh sweetheart!”

“Fuckin’ crybaby,” Katsuki rolls his eyes, but he smiles at Shouto – and Shouto crawls on top of him to kiss him stupid.

“I’ve got four months left on my lease,” Shouto says.


“Aww man,” Izuku flops back. “I have to move again?!”

“It’s okay honey, I’ll carry you and the couch this time.”

“He talked about that for weeks, by the way,” Katsuki says, grunting when Shouto kisses into his neck.

“I was going to snatch you up if Shouto didn’t~” Eijirou purrs. Izuku’s face runs pink, and he hides it in a pillow.

“I had surprisingly few qualms about killing you back then,” Shouto says, and Eijirou squeaks.

“B-But not anymore, right?”

“Up in the air,” Shouto teases, and snorts when Izuku leans over to slap a hand against his ass.

It’s almost two in the morning. He can breathe easier than ever.



Shouto flinches when he sees himself in a store window. He covers the side of his face, but Izuku laughs and pulls his hand away.  

“Forgot about that Macy’s ad, did you?”

“It was months ago. I even have my old hair.”

“Well I think you look very handsome. Look at your little polka dot tie.”

“Do we need to bring up Calvin Klein again?”

“N-Nope!” Izuku squeaks, and Shouto bumps him a little with his hip. It’s like hitting a rock wall, but Izuku is nice enough to pretend to stumble.

“Aye nerd,” Katsuki gestures. “Lookit’ this.”

“No way!” Izuku blanches, “That’s a limited edition All Might figma! Those went out of stock years ago!”

“S’ on sale too, bastards.”

There’s a line of new toys in the window; mostly Deku figurines, but Shouto spots the rest of their friends as well. There’s a wall of Froppy and Uravity merch, which is cute.

Most All Might merchandise isn’t in production anymore, and it makes him ache to think one day, people won’t remember All Might at all.

“We’re going in!”

“Sure!” Eijirou waves. Shouto nods, and those two step up into the store. His eye catches a marked down Endeavor toy in the window and turns away with his hands in his pockets.

Eijirou appears with a stick of yakitori.

“Here!” He says, and Shouto blinks.

“Ah, thank you.”

He’d like to take Eijirou’s hand, but the paparazzi presence has been heavy today. Katsuki was able to scare away most, but Shouto can see a crowd of high-school girls across the street. He doesn’t have much to hide, but he’s not really looking to start any fires (today).

“Hot!” Eijirou yips, wincing back from the skewer. Shouto subtly leans in to blow cold air, and Eijirou beams at him. Shouto would do irresponsible things to see him smile. “Heh, thanks man! I wish I could do stuff like that for you with my quirk.”

“You took a bullet for me yesterday,” Shouto deadpans. Eijirou scoffs.

“Bullets are nothing. That’s like thanking me for takin’ out the trash.”

“Same here then.” He blows a gust of warm air this time, and Eijirou flushes.

“Ahh, I can’t wait for this weather to warm up. It’s been a cold spring.”

“It’s almost your anniversary.”

“It’s almost yours,” Eijirou grins. Shouto hums.

“Are you two doing anything special?”

“I dunno’, are you guys free?”

“Eijirou,” Shouto frowns. “This is your wedding anniversary. You two should do something special, just the two of you.”

“Eh. It’d be fun, but been there done that,” Eijirou shrugs. “We’d just want to hang out with you anyways. It’s almost been a year since the four of us hooked up, too!”

“Yeah, but...what would you want to do, really?”

“Really really? Get dinner and have a sick orgy.”

Shouto rolls his eyes, “Creative.”

“M’ a simple guy,” Eijirou smiles. His gaze sobers, and he looks across the street to the Kay jewelers. “Um, tell me to eff off if this is overstepping, but. Do you think you’d ever marry Izuku?”

Shouto stares at the chicken skewer. He licks the salt off his lips and says, “Of course I want to. But it’s weird now, isn’t it?”

“Nah,” Eijirou says. “You two were a couple before all this anyways.”

Shouto frowns, “But I’d – I wouldn’t want it to just be…” Shouto doesn’t know how to say it. He loves Izuku more than the world, but he wants it to be all of them – some pipe dream that he can’t see being possible. Eijirou makes it sound easy.

“Hey, you two could have your ceremony, and we’d have our own back home,” Eijirou winks.

Shouto huffs a laugh, “Another orgy?”

 “Who’s talking about orgies?” Katsuki asks, stepping back out of the store with a bag in hand. Shouto panics, unsure if he’s ready to have this conversation outright yet, but Eijirou is able to cover smoothly.

“Shouto is sayin’ we need to do something romantic without them for our anniversary.”  

“Fuck that,” Katsuki says. “We’ve got like eight vibrators at home, take that for a romantic evening.”

“Kacchan!” Izuku scolds. “We’re in public and – wait, eight?”

“They come in so many fun colors,” Eijirou says, earning a laugh. He meets Shouto’s gaze, and Shouto half-smiles as a thank you.

It’s food for thought. His birthday is soon, and his friends are popping out kids left and right, and the idea of settling down used to scare him, but now he craves it like never before.





Izuku’s hair is a treat to run your hands through. It’s thick, wily and soft, and his undercut grows like grass, and Shouto loves to brush his knuckles against it.

They may sport similar haircuts now, but it’s so different from Shouto’s own – smooth and silky, bone straight no matter the day. It’s more fun to cup Izuku by the back of the head and rub along the short fuzzies at his nape. Especially now.

Izuku is a tease between his legs. It’s never on purpose, but Izuku’s brain runs too fast. He licks along Shouto’s thigh, skips to his hip and bites, sucks on the head of his cock and moves down to his balls – and it’s such a turn on, Shouto can’t complain.

He focuses on the length of Izuku’s lashes, on the feeling of his split lip against his skin, the crooked fingers and the left hand that squeezes possessively into his hip. Izuku noses into his skin and breathes in like he needs him, and that always flips somersaults in Shouto’s stomach.

He can feel the cold metal burning from Izuku’s ring finger. Shouto smiles when he thinks on it too much.

The bed creaks, and Shouto looks over to the other side, where Katsuki is lip-locked with Eijirou and working down the zipper of his jeans.

“Oh, babe – I can’t,” Eijirou sighs, gently patting Katsuki’s cheek. “I’m way too sore.”

“You said you felt fine,” Katsuki scowls.

“I do feel fine, I just can’t do tricks.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes.

Izuku pulls off just as he was starting to blow Shouto in earnest. “I’ll ride you!”

“Oh hell yeah, that sounds amazing baby. Give me all that ass.”

Shouto glares down at him, and Izuku offers a sheepish grin as an apology.

“Uh, give me like, five minutes first.”

Shouto scoffs, “Five minutes?”

Eijirou lets out a wheezy laughter, and Katsuki leans over to lick across Izuku’s busted lip and kiss him. Their kisses are always a competition, always trying to one-up the other, and Izuku makes a happy, surprised sound against his mouth.

“Tastes good,” Katsuki tells him. He then smacks Izuku by the arm to urge him off. “Move, I’ll switch ya’.”

“Thanks Kacchan!”

“No, fuck you guys,” Shouto says, planting a foot against Katsuki’s cheek when he tries to dip between his legs. “I’m not going to be passed around like the ugly stepsister.”

“Put your foot on my face again and I will bite your dick off.”

“Aww, you know it’s not like that baby,” Izuku tries, crawling up to pepper Shouto’s face in kisses, but Shouto bats him off half-heartedly. “Do you want to ride Eijirou instead?”

Shouto flushes and dodges his mouth again. Izuku is strong when he wants to be, persisting until Shouto meets him in a real kiss. Katsuki uses the distraction to suck on his cock, and like a real tag-team, Izuku slides his tongue into Shouto’s mouth when he gasps.

Eijirou pats the bed, “Fuck, where’s my phone?”

“No pictures.”  

“Just one?”


“Someone’s a princess tonight,” Katsuki teases, and fuck he’s good with his mouth, Shouto isn’t mad for long.

“I love yoou,” Izuku coos. Shouto breathes a content sigh out of his nose, and says,

“Love you too. Go screw our senior citizen, he’s already drooling.”

“Senior-?! You jerk,” Eijirou laughs. “I’ll let you get pummeled into the earth’s mantle and see how well you take it.”

“Quit bitching, god damn it!” Katsuki growls. Shouto squishes his cheeks between his thighs, and Katsuki makes a face like a dog getting it’s head scratched. The look is gone in an instant, but he does it every time.

Izuku rolls over and straddles Eijirou’s lap – and Eijirou welcomes him with open arms. Katsuki is bobbing his head at a steady rhythm, enough to finally build into something, Shouto twitching and biting off sounds. He’s been close on and off again for the better part of an hour, and he chokes a sound as Katsuki noses into his navel and swallows. His mouth is searing and evil. 

Eijirou's voice cuts his trail of thought. 

“Hey babe, toss me a condom.”

Katsuki pulls off, and Shouto full on groans.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Pretty please?” Eijirou beams, fingers rubbing clever between Izuku’s legs, and Katsuki sits up with a sigh.

“Last one,” Katsuki says, tossing it over their heads. Eijirou catches it one handed and frowns.

“Damn, really?”

“We go through condoms like fucking copy paper, what the hell did you expect?”

Shouto has been too hard for too long. It’s pure torture to watch Izuku squirm and grind and wiggle around in Eijirou’s lap, and his cock is throbbing so bad it’s starting to hurt – so he says fuck it and starts to jerk himself off.

“Quit it,” Katsuki smacks his hand away. Shouto does not whine.


He regrets rasping his name like that. The second he says it, Katsuki’s eyes narrow like the devil.

“Ohh. Needy are we? You gonna’ beg like a good boy?”

“Eat shit.”

“Nah.” Katsuki wraps a hand around the base and squeezes, and Shouto actually keens. “You’re going to beg for it.”

Izuku’s and Eijirou’s heads snap around like they’re on a swivel. Izuku is close enough that he can sit back on Eijirou’s thighs and grab for Shouto’s hand.

“God you are so pretty,” Izuku tells him.

“D-ah- don’t.”

“Come on, let him have it already,” Eijirou says. “He’s been good.”

“It’s just one word,” Katsuki purrs.

This is turning him on more than he’d like. He almost can’t handle the intensity. Katsuki dips his head and swirls his tongue around the mark Izuku put on his hipbone, and Shouto grabs into Katsuki’s hair hard, to the point where he knows it must hurt. Katsuki’s grip gets tighter in retaliation.

“Let. Go.” Shouto growls.

“Beg,” Katsuki replies. Izuku moans as Eijirou slicks himself up and breaches him, and Shouto snaps. He breaks out of Katsuki’s grip, flips him between his thighs and moves to jam a hand between his legs – but Katsuki is fast, raw instinct at its finest – and he grabs Shouto’s wrist before he even gets close.


“Nice try,” Katsuki says. He folds up his legs so his thighs are pressed against Shouto’s ass, and the contact of cotton sweatpants against his skin makes him break out in a sweat.

“And you think I’m stubborn,” Izuku exhales, forehead against Eijirou’s shoulder. Shouto knows Eijirou is mumbling sweet nothings to him, because Izuku’s face gets pinker and pinker.

“I take back all my vows,” Shouto says. He grinds his ass into Katsuki’s crotch as payback. “Every single one of them.”

“I’ll let you fuck my mouth if you say it,” Katsuki says, tongue tracing his canines in a wolf-like grin and shit shit shit.

Skin slaps skin as Izuku rides up and down in Eijirou’s lap. Shouto wads up his pride and tosses it out the window.

“Please,” Shouto breathes, “Please Katsuki.” He gasps as he’s yanked up to straddle Katsuki’s face, breath ghosting his skin as Katsuki purrs,

“Fuck yeah, feed it to me gorgeous. Don’t take your eyes off ‘em, not even for a second.”

Shouto fucks his stupid mouth until he’s gripping the headboard and coming down his throat. Katsuki makes obscene noises, but grips his thighs and swallows it all.

I was longer than five minutes, thank you. But Shouto’s thighs are shaking, and he sits against Katsuki’s chest with a heated sigh.

“Wow,” Eijirou says.

“That was hot,” Katsuki agrees.  

“You suck.”

“Sure do.”

“How terrible would it be for a pager to go off right now?”

“Do not even speak that into existence.”

“Someone knock on wood.”

Shouto slumps his head against the headboard with a light bonk, and Eijirou shrugs, “Good enough.”  

Katsuki threads their fingers together and looks at him seriously. The clack of their wedding rings makes him shiver.

“Hey hon, you should take a seat next,” Eijirou winks, slapping his own thigh. Izuku makes a deflated noise, worn out and sticky and beautiful as he cools in Eijirou’s thick arms.

Katsuki rolls his eyes, “We’re out of condoms, dickwit.”

“I heard you can take a plastic bag and –“

A chorus:






Music thumps and shakes the walls. It’s barely muffled by the sliding door, and it bleeds through whenever it slides open and shut.

You could almost call it déjà vu.

“Chug, chug, chug!”

“Happy 30th,” Shouto deadpans, and watches Mina wretch in the bushes.

“Thanks man,” Eijirou laughs. “Some things never change.”

The backyard smells like smokey barbecue and freshly cut grass. The sun has only just gone down, and the lights have kicked on along with the bonfire. Most of the party is indoors, and Shouto tries not to flinch when he hears something break.

Eijirou squeezes around Shouto’s waist, and Shouto naturally wraps an arm over his shoulders.

“Well that didn’t sound good.”

“You’re very calm.”

“I’m drunk,” Eijirou explains, and Shouto laughs out of his nose.

“Not an easy feat.”

“I wasn’t ready for the vodka, honestly.”

Shouji and Tokoyami are cooing over Iida’s new baby. That little squirt has been passed around to a dozen arms tonight already, and as drunk as they are, Shouto is sure there isn’t a safer place on earth. Iida knows that too.

He waves when he catches Shouto staring, and Shouto waves back.

“Hey dudes,” Denki appears. He looks nervous, and Shouto raises an eyebrow.

Eijirou grins, “Hey bro! You look better.”

“Uh, I threw up in your trash can. Turns out you can’t soak up alcohol with copious amounts of taquitos.”

“Literally, anyone here could have told you that.”

Denki rubs at the back of his head, and Eijirou reads his body language like a book.

“What’s up, man?”

“Uhh,” Denki laughs. “Damn. I don’t wanna’ be the one to tell you this, but you guys know your spouses are making out in the guestroom tub, right?”

Eijirou cocks his head.  

“Dang. Already?”

“Well, they do get competitive over beer pong.”

“They get competitive over everything.”

“Uhhh,” Denki stares. “Am I missing something?”

Shouto and Eijirou blink hard.

Eijirou’s hand is comfortable in Shouto’s back pocket. Shouto is wearing one of Bakugou’s band shirts, and Eijirou’s track pants say DEKU across the ass.

They look at each other. Then at Denki.


“Oh honey,” Eijirou says.