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// masturbation, vouyerism/exhibitionism, kinda (??) cheating (idk you’ll see)
eijirou very much likes it when his boyfriend fucks him—don’t get him wrong. he loves being fucked into the mattress by katsuki, the feel of rough hands around his throat. he does.
but...
eijirou very much likes it when his boyfriend fucks him—don’t get him wrong. he loves being fucked into the mattress by katsuki, the feel of rough hands around his throat. he does.
but...
but sometimes he wants to go slow. wants to take his time and unwind himself, wants to take himself apart piece by piece. make himself crumble.
and bakugou, as much as kirishima absolutely /adores/ his enthusiasm in bed, just isn’t capable of that.
and bakugou, as much as kirishima absolutely /adores/ his enthusiasm in bed, just isn’t capable of that.
which is why he’s here now, taking steadying breaths under the spray of the agency’s shower.
he’s in the farthest stall from the door, it has a leaky spout and the pressure is absolute ass, but that’s fine. that’s not why he’s in here.
he’s in the farthest stall from the door, it has a leaky spout and the pressure is absolute ass, but that’s fine. that’s not why he’s in here.
he’s had a long patrol, and tetsu and amajiki said they’d handle the paperwork so he could go ahead and head to the showers.
it was sweet of them. they’re always so sweet. so fucking sweet to kirishima in everything that they do. maybe they could go slow for him, take their—
it was sweet of them. they’re always so sweet. so fucking sweet to kirishima in everything that they do. maybe they could go slow for him, take their—
“/fuck/,” eijirou hisses under his breath, back arching slightly as his fingers crook right into that bundle of nerves just right.
fuck, yeah, he knows they would. he sees the way they look at him while he’s changing. he knows.
fuck, yeah, he knows they would. he sees the way they look at him while he’s changing. he knows.
he knows about how tamaki’s eyes linger on his hips as he tugs his belt off and strips out of his pants, uncaring.
he knows about how tetsu watches him as he stretches after a shift, muscles flexing and taut, stretching oh so tight.
he knows about how tetsu watches him as he stretches after a shift, muscles flexing and taut, stretching oh so tight.
he knows, and fuck, that /does/ something for him.
because they—they /want/ him. he can see it in their shifting of eyes and fingers twitching to touch and the pink in their cheeks when they get caught looking too long. they want him and that..
because they—they /want/ him. he can see it in their shifting of eyes and fingers twitching to touch and the pink in their cheeks when they get caught looking too long. they want him and that..
damnit, it shouldn’t effect him as much as it does.
he loves bakugou, he does, he swears. but just, being wanted by more than one person is so /liberating/. it feels /good/. so good that it outweighs the guilt threatening to pool in his stomach for thinking such a thing.
he loves bakugou, he does, he swears. but just, being wanted by more than one person is so /liberating/. it feels /good/. so good that it outweighs the guilt threatening to pool in his stomach for thinking such a thing.
which is maybe why he lets that first name slip past his lips so freely, bouncing off the shower tile and hitting him right back. sounding foreign but welcome on his ears, tasting new yet exhilarating on the tip of his tongue.
“ta—tamaki,” he breathes, whines as he thrusts his fingers in slow and hard, rubbing every inch just right. “s-so good, tama—ah!”
it’s wrong, it’s so fucking wrong, but he thinks about his senpai’s lips on his neck, by his ear. praising him. telling him how /good/ he is.
it’s wrong, it’s so fucking wrong, but he thinks about his senpai’s lips on his neck, by his ear. praising him. telling him how /good/ he is.
and his mind supplies another thought, one of his best friend pressed to his front, lips on the other side of his neck, hand between them tugging languidly at kirishima’s cock.
fuck. fuckfuckfuck.
fuck. fuckfuckfuck.
he pulls his free hand off the wall and immediately grabs his dick, stroking long and tight up the shaft, keeping himself balanced only by his forehead pressing to the tile. and he lets the second name slip past his lips just as easy as the first.
“tetsu. tetsu, please—“ he begs, and he’s not sure what he’s begging for, but he can’t stop.
he feels close and he’s barely even started, the pleasure just feels so good, so intense like this. the touches are light yet firm, warm yet cool, like he imagines their’s to be.
he feels close and he’s barely even started, the pleasure just feels so good, so intense like this. the touches are light yet firm, warm yet cool, like he imagines their’s to be.
he can’t take it anymore, can’t hold back, so he just lets go.
“tamaki, there! pl-ease! more,” he moans out, back arching into his own fingers, thighs nearly shaking as his eyes screw shut. “more more more. tetsu. t, please! /more/—“
“tamaki, there! pl-ease! more,” he moans out, back arching into his own fingers, thighs nearly shaking as his eyes screw shut. “more more more. tetsu. t, please! /more/—“
and eijirou’s so lost in it that he doesn’t register the sound of the locker room door opening and closing. and he doesn’t register the pair of footsteps coming his way.
he doesn’t register any of it until he moans out again.
he doesn’t register any of it until he moans out again.
“tetsu, /please/—“
“ei?”
kirishima’s eyes snap open and he looks to his right to see tetsu staring at him with amajiki by his side, both blushing and both wide eyed, gaze darting everywhere—not sure where to look.
“ei?”
kirishima’s eyes snap open and he looks to his right to see tetsu staring at him with amajiki by his side, both blushing and both wide eyed, gaze darting everywhere—not sure where to look.
right, there aren’t curtains in the showers. no one ever really thinks about it since shifts are so scattered the locker room is almost always empty. and no one ever really cares enough to try to be a peeping tom and steal a look at someone’s junk.
now, though, someone very much /is/ looking into eijirou’s shower. the very people he’s been fantasizing about, too.
it seems too good to pass up, really.
it seems too good to pass up, really.
“/t/,” eijirou groans, making direct eye contact as he fists his dick. “please, gimme more. need it.”
tetsu stares at him a moment, glances to his left at amajiki, before he swallows hard and takes a step forward, holding a hand out.
tetsu stares at him a moment, glances to his left at amajiki, before he swallows hard and takes a step forward, holding a hand out.
“ei, where do i—“
“/no/,” kirishima shakes his head, leans away from where tetsu’s hand nearly grazes his side. “no touch. can’t touch, makes it bad. just, /please/.”
“o-okay,” tetsu swallows again, nods as he steps back. “okay, ei. fuck, look at me.”
“/no/,” kirishima shakes his head, leans away from where tetsu’s hand nearly grazes his side. “no touch. can’t touch, makes it bad. just, /please/.”
“o-okay,” tetsu swallows again, nods as he steps back. “okay, ei. fuck, look at me.”
eijirou does, directly in his best friend’s eyes the best he can through his half lidded gaze.
“/fuck/, you’re so pretty.”
the praise rips a whine out of eijirou, has his hips jerking into his too slow fisting job. his head lolls, and when it does, it draws his attention away.
“/fuck/, you’re so pretty.”
the praise rips a whine out of eijirou, has his hips jerking into his too slow fisting job. his head lolls, and when it does, it draws his attention away.
to amajiki, who’s standing stock still, face redder than kirishima’s ever seen it, and a /very/ noticeable tent in the front of his tunic.
“tama-senpai,” he acknowledges, licks his lips, ignores the wet strands of hair falling into his eyes. “tama-senpai, feel so good.”
“tama-senpai,” he acknowledges, licks his lips, ignores the wet strands of hair falling into his eyes. “tama-senpai, feel so good.”
“oh my god,” amajiki breathes out, a rasp lacing his voice that eijirou’s never heard before, one that has him going weak in the knees as he brushes over that bundle of nerves again.
“tama, tama,” he gasps, rocks his hips back onto his fingers.
“tama, tama,” he gasps, rocks his hips back onto his fingers.
everything feels amplified now, and his skin feels on fire even though the shower’s stream is starting to go cold, making his nipples pebble on his chest, gooseflesh spread across his arms.
but it’s not enough. he needs more. he needs something else to get him there. he needs—
but it’s not enough. he needs more. he needs something else to get him there. he needs—
“t-tell me i’m a good boy,” he pushes out through a pinched off yelp, crimson eyes darting between his two best friends.
they don’t open their mouths, and that’s not good enough for eijirou. so he steadies himself and tries again
“tell me i’m /your/ good boy.”
they don’t open their mouths, and that’s not good enough for eijirou. so he steadies himself and tries again
“tell me i’m /your/ good boy.”
and that last part seems to knock them out of their trance, a twitch in their fingertips as if they want to reach out and /show/ eijirou instead.
and he /really/, really likes that.
and he /really/, really likes that.
he expects tetsu to be the first one to speak up. he is the most outgoing after all, the most confident out of the three of them too.
what he doesn’t expect is tamaki taking a step closer to the shower and slipping his tunic off to leave him in his tight, black bodysuit.
what he doesn’t expect is tamaki taking a step closer to the shower and slipping his tunic off to leave him in his tight, black bodysuit.
he’s close, kirishima could reach out and touch him if he wanted to, and he’s hit with the sudden wave that he /does/.
but he can’t. because if he touches then it’ll be wrong. that means he’s actually done something. and bakugou...
but he can’t. because if he touches then it’ll be wrong. that means he’s actually done something. and bakugou...
“you are a good boy, aren’t you?” tamaki asks, so quiet it’s nearly a whisper over the rushing water. “such a good boy for us, yeah?”
“y-yeah,” kirishima finds himself agreeing instantly, nodding as he stares at tamaki, loses himself in deep, deep indigo. “yes, i am.”
“y-yeah,” kirishima finds himself agreeing instantly, nodding as he stares at tamaki, loses himself in deep, deep indigo. “yes, i am.”
“‘course you are,” tetsu adds, stepping right up next to amajiki, unbuckling his belt and hooking his thumb in the waistband of his uniform pants. “taking us so well, too.”
eijirou’s still nodding, vision a little blurry as he drinks in their voices, their praise.
eijirou’s still nodding, vision a little blurry as he drinks in their voices, their praise.
this is different than with bakugou. his words are always harsh, clipped, only followed with praises at the end, when they’re done. and that’s fine. truly.
but this—
this is /so much better/ than fine.
but this—
this is /so much better/ than fine.
he nearly slips for a moment, into that thick hot feeling of pleasure swirling around his gut from it all. because it’s so fucking good, unlike he’s ever felt before.
and suddenly, he doesn’t care that bakugou can’t give him this. because tamaki and tetsu?
they /can/.
and suddenly, he doesn’t care that bakugou can’t give him this. because tamaki and tetsu?
they /can/.
“touch—touch yourselves. please. wan—wanna see,” he huffs, breath fogging up the shower tile, cheeks so hot he swears he’s boiling.
they listen, of course, and tetsu shoved his pants down to his ankles and tamaki unrolls his body suit down the middle of his thighs.
they listen, of course, and tetsu shoved his pants down to his ankles and tamaki unrolls his body suit down the middle of his thighs.
they both reach for their already hard dicks, letting out twin hisses at the relief of some of that strain. and kirishima expected that.
what he didn’t expect was the way tetsu’s hand snaked around himself, and he had to press his cheek to tamaki’s shoulder to balance himself.
what he didn’t expect was the way tetsu’s hand snaked around himself, and he had to press his cheek to tamaki’s shoulder to balance himself.
he—he’s /fingering/ himself. and for some reason that’s more of a shock to eijirou than it should be. because he’s big himself, but tetsu’s /bigger/, and the fact that he actually bottoms for anyone is.
oh fucking hell, it’s so hot eijirou almost shudders so hard he slides down.
oh fucking hell, it’s so hot eijirou almost shudders so hard he slides down.
“f-fuck,” tetsu hisses, mouth open in a pant, smushed slightly from how he’s leaning on amajiki. “want you in me so bad, ei. you’re so big.”
“mm, he is, isn’t he?” tamaki asks, but it isn’t really directed at anyone, more so an observation. “do you wanna fuck him, eijirou?”
“mm, he is, isn’t he?” tamaki asks, but it isn’t really directed at anyone, more so an observation. “do you wanna fuck him, eijirou?”
it takes kirishima a few seconds to register that amajiki’s talking to him, because his eyes are trained down watching the two of them work themselves over, lost in the thought of being able to touch, being able to feel every little bit, every dip and curve and.
“yes,” he groans, bends more as his spine curves further. “so bad. wanna fuck him s’bad. want you to fuck me, too. want it.”
“/please/,” and this time it’s tetsu’s turn to beg, gripping onto tamaki’s arm to keep himself upright as he prods his sweet spot over and over.
“/please/,” and this time it’s tetsu’s turn to beg, gripping onto tamaki’s arm to keep himself upright as he prods his sweet spot over and over.
tamaki’s still stroking himself in time with the way eijirou’s wrist flicks behind him. the tip of his dick is so red it makes eijirou want to scream out of frustration. he wants a taste, he wants a feel, he wants /anything/, but he can’t. and for some reason that makes it better
“you’d do so good at it, wouldn’t you? you’d take such good care of him. don’t you think, tetsu?”
where the fuck this lax and collected amajiki came from, eijirou doesn’t know. he’s a far cry from his normal blushing and skittish senpai. but he sure as hell isn’t complaining.
where the fuck this lax and collected amajiki came from, eijirou doesn’t know. he’s a far cry from his normal blushing and skittish senpai. but he sure as hell isn’t complaining.
“yes! yes he would. please tama, want him to so bad. so bad, please,” tetsu whines, begs, and when he looks up at tamaki, eijirou’s heart stops.
because he looks up at him like he’s asking permission for something, like he /knows/ to. like they’ve /done this before/.
because he looks up at him like he’s asking permission for something, like he /knows/ to. like they’ve /done this before/.
and eijirou comes to so many conclusions at once that his horny fogged brain doesn’t know what to do with them, but one sticks out above them all.
tetsu is asking tamaki for permission to cum. because he’s /watching eijirou/.
tetsu is asking tamaki for permission to cum. because he’s /watching eijirou/.
“go ahead,” amajiki answers, but he’s staring directly at eijirou as he says it, gaze so sharp it locks the redhead in place and then—
“cum for me like a good boy.”
“cum for me like a good boy.”
eijirou isn’t sure what’s louder, his or tetsu’s groan as they shout out a jumble of names with hitched breath, spilling out in front of themselves, bodies shaking and trembling and, oh.
oh fuck that was so /good/.
oh fuck that was so /good/.
eijirou’s knees finally buckle, and he drops himself to the floor of the shower. there’s a hand in his peripheral a second later—tamaki’s based off how clean it is—but he waves it off. he needs a minute, because holy fucking hell he can’t feel his legs.
by the time he’s out of it enough to look up, he’s greeted with the sight of tetsu on his own knees in front of tamaki, and /he/ isn’t just resting.
he only catches the tail end of it, but that’s fine, because he gets to see amajiki’s blissed out face as he cums down t’s throat.
he only catches the tail end of it, but that’s fine, because he gets to see amajiki’s blissed out face as he cums down t’s throat.
there’s a minute of bated silence then, just partly, as tetsu pulls back and sticks out his tongue, shows tamaki how good he swallowed.
and eijirou’s heart aches as he watches how amajiki strokes tetsu’s silver hair back with nothing but adoration and another mumbled “good boy.”
and eijirou’s heart aches as he watches how amajiki strokes tetsu’s silver hair back with nothing but adoration and another mumbled “good boy.”
after that everything is a slight blur, and eijirou is stunned to see how quickly tamaki fades back into his squirmish self, ears pink and gaze shy. and tetsu’s back to normal too, except now he’s staying closer to tamaki, brushes against his side as they finally change clothes.
it’s not until eijirou slings his bag over his shoulder and turns to leave. he crosses the locker room, places his hand on the door, cheeks still hot from whatever the hell just happened, then.
“oh, eijirou?”
“oh, eijirou?”
he tilts his head to look over his shoulder to the sound of his name, ignores the heat that licks up the back of his neck as indigo meets vermillion, pushes the butterflies that swarm within his stomach away as a smug smile twitches across his senpai’s lips.
“if you ever wanna be my good boy,” tamaki drawls, leans into tetsu, smirking deeper as the large man curls down around him as if on command.
“all you gotta do is ask.”
eijirou flushes, goosebumps trailing up his spine as he tries not to show how much he affects him.
“all you gotta do is ask.”
eijirou flushes, goosebumps trailing up his spine as he tries not to show how much he affects him.
“okay,” he nods, clears his throat, the he whips his head back around and walks out of the locker room.
yeah, okay.
he plans to.
yeah, okay.
he plans to.
[end of thread]
