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It’s Eijirou’s 25th birthday, and his hardworking, gorgeous, meticulously thoughtful boyfriend is sick at home with a nasty case of the flu. He’d tried to insist on staying home, offering to play the dutiful nurse despite the plans Katsuki had so carefully laid out for them and their closest friends. Obviously, even swaddled in at least three blankets and sneezing after every other word, the explosive hero chewed him out for even suggesting something like that.
So now he’s at their second club of the night, not quite managing to hide how much he was missing his partner. Sero and Kaminari seem determined to keep the group’s spirits up, grinding and flailing out on the dance floor–the two of them drawing a respectable amount of attention. He watches them from his place in a dim corner, leaning against the wall with some fruity sort of cocktail he had ordered at random. Watching them with tired eyes, he gnaws on a chunk of syrupy-sweet pineapple before taking another generous drink. Whatever he’d chosen was good at least, the tips of his fingers buzzing pleasantly with warmth.
“Still thinking about Bakugou?”
He jumps, head whipping over to where Ashido had snuck up on him. She smiles, understanding and cheery as she occupies the empty space beside him on the wall. Without waiting for his response, she clinks her own glass against his. The frozen drink in hers was a glowing shade of electric blue, swirled with traces of purple. If she was waiting for a response she doesn't show it, gloss-covered lips wrapping around her straw as she takes a noisy sip.
One of her legs kick up to brace against the wall, causing her already dangerously mini skirt to ride up a muscular pink thigh. Eijirou’s eyes fall to that new stretch of skin, noting how it shines lightly with sweat–likely from the humidity of the air around them. It's a thoughtless action, one that has his heart thudding with shame as he forces his gaze up and away. It’s not like he was checking her out. The movement just drew his attention, and that was all.
And was it his fault that Ashido was dressed like that? In a mini skirt that barely covered the bottom of her round ass and a cropped cami with rhinestone stars on the nipples, its plunging neckline leaving her lacy black bra peeking out the top. She was nearly impossible to talk to without getting an eyeful of her incredible curves.
“He’d want you to have fun, babe,” Ashido says, drawing his attention back to her once more. He’s careful to keep his gaze on her face, counting the chunky flecks of glitter around her eyes. Even in the low light, she’s stunning.
Eijirou's stomach twists, and he shrugs. “I know, I know…It’s dumb to be moping around, he already told me he wants me to have a good night.” His grip on his glass tightens, fingers sliding along the condensation covered surface. He takes another drink, letting the booze soften his anxiety.
“Just feels wrong,” he adds, feeling a flush begin to creep up his face. The pleasant hum of the alcohol has made its way deeper into his body, thrumming through his arms and filling his chest. It's helpful enough, lets him ignore the sour tinge of regret beginning to slide off of him. Katsuki did want him to enjoy himself, didn't he?
“How about we get out there? Get your mind off of him,” Ashido suggests, placing a manicured hand on his uncovered bicep. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”
Her palm is warmer than he expected, and her grip slides down the curve of muscle as if she was mapping out the shape of his arm. The touch shouldn't affect him, but it does. It does. Like an unneeded reminder of how many nights he’s been fucking into his own hand, trying to keep quiet while Katsuki slept. His imagination works fast, much too swift for him to stop the next uncontrollable thought–what would her unnaturally smooth hand feel like taking his place, slippery with her quirk.
He realizes he’d left her waiting for a moment too long, heart beginning to hammer away against his ribcage.
“Y-yeah,” Eijirou says, feeling the first traitorous pulse of arousal traveling from his navel to the tip of his cock. His tongue suddenly feels heavy in his mouth, and he wants nothing more than to bite it off. Instead, he just keeps talking. “Yeah, let’s dance.”
They shuffle their way towards their friends buried in the thick of the dancefloor, both of them discarding their drinks at a nearby table with the acceptance they’d never see them again. Not that it mattered, considering how quickly Eijirou was stumbling towards complete drunkenness. Maybe he had underestimated the strength of his cocktail.
It takes a moment but then they’re all together again, Ashido’s hands tangling in his as they bump and nod along to the music. He’s shoulder to shoulder with Sero, who was grabbing Kaminari by the hips and enjoying the blonde’s clumsy twerking against his crotch. They both were laughing, open-mouthed and clearly tipsy as they pushed against each other. The sight makes his mouth go dry, stuck for just a second too long at the sight of the lanky man’s crotch sandwiched against Kaminari’s bubble butt.
Ashido is pulling him towards her, a sweet giggle escaping her as she tugs his arms over her shoulders before dropping her own grip to his waist. “They’re ridiculous.” She’s brought them closer for this, their heads bowed together in a quiet bubble so the words might actually reach his ears. He laughs half-heartedly, too aware of how turned on just about everything was making him.
“Kaminari’s shameless,” he says, because he has to say something. “I don’t know how he does it.” Another laugh from his dance partner, another squeeze of her hands on his body. Someone behind him bumps their elbow into his back, and their bodies end up stumbling even closer together–her tits against his chest, the vanilla of her perfume wafting around his head. He shudders, stomach flipping with equally commanding desire and disgust.
“Are you okay?” Ashido asks, doing nothing to reestablish the previous distance between them. Beneath the scrape of her rhinestones against his flimsy mesh top, he can register the firm bump of her hardened nipples. His rapidly filling cock throbs, drawing out a quiet groan of despair. Why? Was one night all it took for him to completely disrespect Katsuki and their relationship?
“The alcohol,” he says, shamefully, “it’s–”
His words stutter and die in his mouth, his eyes flying open wide as Ashido’s right hand drops between their bodies and presses firmly against his growing bulge. “It’s got you worked up, is that it? You didn’t even try to hide it.”
Beside them, neither Sero nor Kaminari seem to notice or care about whatever was happening between them. It should be obvious to anyone paying the smallest bit of attention, given how Eijirou wasn't even dancing anymore while Ashido was plastering herself against him. Her hips sway, and he can feel every shift and jiggle of her breasts against his body. The hand cupped against him isn't even doing anything, just an uncomfortable weight against the firmness of his erection.
“What are you doing?” Eijirou tries not to raise his voice, terrified of a single glance in their direction. His addled mind is frantic and stupid, and his priority becomes acting as normal as possible–which requires him to thaw his frozen limbs, mechanically beginning to move along with the thumping beat of the current song. It has his cock rubbing against the awful press of Ashido’s hand, the heat reaching him even through the layers of clothing.
“It’s–it’s your birthday, Kiri,” Ashido says, the slur in her words finally pronounced enough for him to notice. In his wallowing, he hadn't even realized how many drinks his friends had been downing without him. “Let this be your present...” She rubs her hand steadily up and down along the length of his dick, successfully encouraging it to full hardness through his pants. The swollen tip of his cock already feels sensitive, pressed against his underwear and, embarrassingly, leaking.
First, he feels nauseating shame as his hips instinctively buck into her touch–followed by heady, buzzing arousal. He can’t help it given the mixture of alcohol and just how long it’d been since Katsuki and him had sex…his whole body was a live wire just begging to release its charge. Even that has the guilt wiggling and worming its way deep into his gut, enough for him to hate how good Ashido’s palm felt against him, but not enough to make him push her away. He was a healthy, sexually frustrated man after all. And he loved his boyfriend, but God had it been awhile since he’s been able to put his cock in anything.
“W-what about–” Despite his traitor body’s willingness to sell him out, Eijirou’s mind was still tripping over itself to fight this rapidly forming disaster. “–Katsuki.”
At this, Ashido’s face pinches into something resembling regret before her easy smile is back on her lips. “He told you to have fun, didn't he? And besides, Denki told me about your bedroom troubles.”
Her fingers are climbing just enough to hook into his belt, tugging them even closer. “You know, it’s not a crime to dance with your good friends.” And then, before he could even process the words, she’s turning her back to him and mirroring the pose Kaminari had been in just moments ago. Her head drops low as she arches her back, the flex of her shoulder muscles and back enough to have Eijirou’s eyes running over every taught line and bead of sweat. And then, in a move he should’ve been able to predict and dodge, her thick ass is backed up and grinding against his bulge.
“Fuck!” He swears, loud enough to draw Sero’s eyes before they’re glancing off him and back to the blonde gyrating in front of him. Small mercies. His hands, half-hardened by accident, fall to her hips to clutch at the flimsy fabric of her skirt. He’s so damn hard his cock is straining against his clothing, rigid enough to wedge between her cheeks as she begins twerking against him with single-minded purpose.
“Mina,” he gasps, rocking into her like the weak-willed person he always knew he was. “We can’t–ah–do this.” It's just a show, a flimsy attempt to ease his guilt at what he was doing. Like he wasn’t humping against their mutual friend’s ass in the middle of the dance floor, like Katsuki wasn’t at home sick, likely wondering what they were up to. Like he wasn’t cheating on his boyfriend just because they hadn’t fucked in two weeks. Eijirou felt nothing but disgust for himself and the woman in front of him–how could they be so selfish? Even worse, he knew he wasn't strong enough to end this either. Not when his cock was drooling precum like a faucet, not when Mina’s skirt was beginning to ride up to reveal the fact she wasn't even wearing underwear.
“I can’t hear you!” She calls, gleeful over the rapidly building music. The smooth, pink skin of her ass and thighs reveal themselves with every roll of her hips, back arching even lower as she presses the hot weight of her body against him. His fingers dig into her waist, not pushing her away but guiding the seductive rock and jerk of her ass. He hasn’t been this hard in ages, throbbing painfully now where he ruts against her.
He can feel the weight of the other club goers eyes now, but none of them carry the acidity of judgment or disgust–they’re getting turned on, their watchful eyes burning with jealousy. For him or Mina’s position, he couldn't say.
“Holy shit, Kirishima!”
His whole body jolts, head swiveling to meet impressed golden eyes. Kaminari has finally taken notice of their predicament, now bumping and swaying to the music face to face with Sero. This, in turn, brings the dark-haired man’s once uninterested gaze his way again. Their attention only gets his gut coiling with a burning need to fuck Ashido right there, the combined shame and guilt and self-hatred going directly to his cock. They were watching him cheat on Katsuki–no, they were letting him cheat on Katsuki.
“I didn’t realize Bakugou was the sharing type,” Sero says, ducking down to nearly shout in his ear. There's a bite there, an edge to the words that sends a slow crawling shiver down his spine. “Lucky man.”
“You guys are so hot,” Kaminari adds, now sidling up to sway even closer beside them. One of his ring-covered hands lands on Ashido’s ass, spanking her once before resting on the now burning skin. His fingers dig into the soft meat there, and begin to aid in her twerking. Eijirou’s mouth is dropped open in a permanent groan, chest puffing rapidly as he watches the blonde jiggle and slam her ass against his bulge.
Sero’s long-fingered hand comes to rest on his waist, smiling lips almost brushing the lobe of his ear. “How about we take a trip to the bathroom? You’re drawing attention.” And then that steady hand is drawing up his stomach, tracing the hard lines of his abdomen through his flimsy top.
“Guys,” Eijirou mutters, unheard by the two tag-teaming his dick. Sero’s fingers pinch one of his nipples through the mesh fabric, twirling and teasing with slowness. “We gotta–shit–get out of here.”
Mercifully, the dark-haired hero takes the reins from his incapable hands. “Hey, knock it off,” Sero calls, grabbing Kaminari and Ashido’s attention with a light slap on her ass, next to where the blonde’s hand was squeezing. He nods his head towards the back of the club to the neon lit ‘restroom’ sign.
Ruffled and only marginally embarrassed at the interruption, Ashido straightens up with an exaggerated pout. One hand quickly tugs her skirt back down, just enough to cover the top of her ass. Between her legs, the flashing lights overhead catch on a shining drop trailing down her inner thigh. It’s likely sweat. Deep down, Eijirou knows what he wants it to be.
Kaminari manages to look sheepish, though his expression curls with a coy smile when his eyes meet Sero’s. “Sorry, let’s go cool off, huh?”
There’s no way any of them are subtle as they clumsily step their way off the dancefloor, not with Eijirou’s obvious hard on and the way Ashido was leading him by the hand towards the back. Every step has another inch of her skirt riding up, closer and closer to revealing the prize between her legs.
He knows what he should be doing–stepping away to get some water, ripping his hand out of her grasp, cussing all of them out for enabling him, even calling Katsuki right then and confessing every betrayal he’s committed already. Of course, he does none of that, and between one song’s end and the next he’s being crowded into the bathroom by his closest friends. The lock clicks loudly, and Sero hangs back to lean against the door just in case anyone really wants in. Ashido and Kaminari seem to be of one mind now, giving the impression this wasn’t the first or second time they had knelt at someone’s feet together.
That shocks him backwards, taking several steps away from his friends. What was he doing? His eyes flicker between all three of them with frenzied urgency, begging one of them to see sense.
“Just tell us to stop and we will,” Ashido says, crooning at him. Her hands rest on either side of her breasts, cupping them before she pushes them together and up. Her cleavage squishes together, even more of her tits spilling from the top of her bra. “But I can see how much you want this.”
Kaminari blatantly stares at the sight, his hand drifting down to palm himself through his pants. “God, your tits are so sexy.”
Eijirou can’t choose which of them to watch, any thought of stopping them is overshadowed by the overwhelming urge to get their mouths on his cock. He settles for going back and forth, drinking in the supple curve and bounce of Ashido’s tits before watching how Kaminari’s fingers squeeze and pet over his growing bulge.
“You know none of us will tell Bakugou,” Sero says, watching them all through lidded eyes. “C’mon, let them get you off.”
For one valiant second, he tries to muster up the strength to walk away. To push them aside, to call a cab, to go home to Katsuki. And then Ashido’s knees are parting, legs spread and her skirt high on her waist like a sad excuse of a belt. It's hopeless, trying to look anywhere but between her thighs at the puffy mound of her cunt. She’s so wet that a thin string of slick comes dripping off of her, taunting him.
Beside her, Kaminari has undone his jeans and is pulling out his cock. He fucks into his fist steadily, the pink head poking out from his clenched hand on every thrust. “You’ve already fucked up, man. Just make it–ah–worth it.”
Now that is a hard argument to counter. Eijirou’s hands drop to his belt buckle with damning finality, slow fingers pulling it open before tugging his zipper down. All three of them are watching like a pack of wolves, fangs barred in matching grins of satisfaction. He drags his pants and underwear down together, shuffling clumsily as he drops them around his ankles. Between his flexing thighs, his cock bobs in the air–painfully erect.
He swallows, then takes a second to look Kaminari then Ashido in the eyes. “Go on…” There’s a long pause, then both of them are surging towards him with eager hands. They close the distance quickly, and then he’s moaning into the muggy air as two hot mouths descend on his cock.
With the both of them lapping and sucking sloppily along his length, he felt the last whispers of doubt leaving his mind. Katsuki had never felt this damn good–never suckled the head of his cock so gently, or licked the pulsing veins on the underside of dick like a well-trained whore. And he’d never know, so did it really matter if Eijirou started rocking his hips into the drooling mouths panting against him?
“Fuck–” Eijirou groans, grabbing each of them by the back of the head. Ashido’s hair was light and soft beneath his fingers, while the blonde’s was silky to the touch. Careful not to pull too hard, but with a commanding grip, he urges them closer. Needing little encouragement, Kaminari begins swallowing more of his cock with a low gurgle in the back of his throat. Below him, the pink-haired hero begins sucking one of his balls into her plush mouth. Her tongue runs along the bottom side, a mess of lip gloss and saliva smearing around her mouth as she sucks and licks her way back up to the base.
“Good, isn’t it?” Sero asks, voice low with hunger. There’s a generous tent in the front of his shorts, but his arms remain crossed over his chest. “Mina’s been wanting to fuck you for ages. Well, both of them have.”
The woman in question hums in agreement, a pleasant vibration where she mouths at the side of his cock. Kaminari looks up at him with watery golden eyes, eyelashes heavy with his tears. There’s desire there, a plea in the crease of his brow and the whine in his throat.
“You’re both so good at this,” Eijirou praises, chest heaving and fingers tightening at the roots of their hair. Twin moans fill the room at the light sting, encouraging him to twist his hold even more. “Kiss around it–please.”
All three of them are trembling with arousal, connected by the same thread pulling their bodies taught. A stuttering moan falls from Kaminari’s mouth as he pulls off of the red-head’s cock, tongue lolling out of his mouth to lap at the slit. Between the kneeling man’s legs, his cock was weeping a pearly bead of precum. And beside him, Ashido’s swollen clit was pulsing and fat. They just loved serving him that much…more than Katsuki ever did. He felt a rush of annoyance, remembering how his boyfriend would give him a half-hearted handjob before rolling over. His friends were worshiping his cock right now, and Eijirou felt vindicated by his decision to cross this line. How long had he been missing out on two willing sluts ready to offer up their holes to him?
He watches, slack-jawed, as Ashido and Kaminari bypass his dick completely to bring their sticky lips together. Their mouths are open and sloppy, pink tongues visible as they rubbed and swirled together for both men to see. Over the distant beat of the club music on the other side of the wall, the slick sound of their kissing grows more and more heated. Eventually, with a slight push from Eijirou’s hands, they move their heads closer until the tip of his cock is pressed to the wet corner of their mouths.
“Y-you guys,” Eijirou says, cracking as they begin to fully kiss around the purpling head between their lips. “It’s so good–”
Their tongues are sliding and licking at the first couple inches of his length now, their lips meeting in the middle and then breaking apart to taste whatever they can reach. The dark pink lipgloss Ashido was wearing is even more noticeable on Kaminari’s pale face and Eijirou’s twitching cock. They’re all covered in a mix of the gloss, saliva, and precum. When they tilt their heads a certain way, the light above them catches the glittery sheen of the makeup.
“I gotta take a pic,” Sero mutters, nonchalantly grabbing his phone from his back pocket. Fear shoots through him at the sight, stomach coiling. He’s so taken aback by what’s happening that his pro hero reflexes seem to leech out of his body, leaving him open-mouthed and dizzy as the bright white light of a camera flashes.
Eijirou's fucking forward before he can even think about it, pinning both of their willing mouths against the sides of his throbbing cock with a rock hard grip. He slots between their swollen lips, dragging his length back and forth across the wet plane of their tongues.
“Take another!” Eijirou is practically growling, meeting Sero’s burning eyes with his own. There’s a pretty flush on the otherwise unaffected man’s cheeks, and then another camera flash. It’s getting hotter, the pure heat from their bodies stuffing up the room. The existence of physical evidence should have him stopped in his tracks, not humping against his friends’ faces like a wild animal. His mind is tripping over itself–what if Katsuki saw them somehow? What if Sero accidentally dropped the pic in their groupchat?
He’s panting into the air like he can’t catch a breath, great gulps that do nothing to slow the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He could see it as clear as a memory, the way Katsuki’s hands would smoke and shake around his phone. The shock. The disgust. He bites back a helpless moan.
“F-fuck–let me use your throat, Mina–” He grabs Ashido’s head and pushes her onto him, guiding the head of his cock onto her tongue before sliding it right down her throat. She gurgles around him, eyes fluttering as he stuffs himself as deep as possible. Her long fingernails dig into his hips without attempting to push him off–if anything, she seems to relax around him as he grinds against her face. Her nose is buried in his dark pubes, eyes watering as he hits the back of her throat without resistance.
Kaminari is left to watch them, whining pathetically beside her as his hand strokes his neglected dick. The blonde is arching into his own fist, never taking his eyes off of Ashido's bulging throat.
“Gonna cum,” Eijirou warns, thrusting sloppily into her drooling mouth. Ashido is humming around him, swallowing deeply as her throat constricts and squeezes his cock. “Shit–”
His hips snap forward one last time as he holds her against his pelvis, grinding his pulsing dick with a broken moan. He’s struck by the filthyness of it–the flood of cum with every throb of his balls, the wet smack and slurp of her lips as she milks him dry.
Ashido pulls off of him with a heaving gasp, stroking him vigorously as she draws a weak splash of cum across her open lips. It's as she’s milking the last few drops, Kaminari orgasming against her thigh, that Eijirou’s blinded by another picture being taken. He hoped it was a good one.
At once, the strength leaves his buzzing limbs, and he’s clumsily sinking to the floor to kneel. The pleasant hum of his orgasm has him feeling loose, unspooled. His fingers comb through Ashido’s hair, drawing her close to him. Needily, Kaminari plasters himself against his other side.
Eijirou closes his eyes, basking in their shared warmth. It's an oddly wholesome moment, despite their various states of undress and the mess of fluids between them all. Kaminari’s nose nudges against his jawline, a sweet gesture. He’s about to reciprocate when Sero’s suddenly straightening up in clear shock.
“Fuck!” He has his phone clutched in shaking hands, eyes wide as he’s illuminated by the glow of the screen. “No, no…”
It's bone deep, the sureness Eijirou feels at the frantically uttered words. His stomach swoops. “Please tell me you didn't.”
It’s only a heartbeat later that the other man nods, a hand covering his face in shame. “I’m so sorry, man.”
Eijirou fumbled to fish his phone from where it's tangled in his pants around his ankles, shoulders slumping in defeat at the single notification on his screen.
Ashido’s boys: [Sero has sent 1 image]