Kirishima was having a bad day.
It wasn’t that Bakugou didn’t understand - he has had his share of bad days at UA - but sometimes it was hard to get that someone like Kirishima could have their bad days, too. In Bakugou’s opinion, Kirishima deserved to be the most arrogant fucker in the entire universe, because Kirishima was just that good. It was fucking ridiculous how good he was, honestly.
But right now, Kirishima wasn’t having a bad day because he didn’t think he was good enough, no, Kirishima was having a bad day because he didn’t think he was attractive enough to be dating Bakugou.
Which was the most fucking ridiculous thing Bakugou had ever heard.
And Bakugou was friends with Kaminari Denki and Sero Hanta - he had heard things that were beyond fucking ridiculous before.
Bakugou thought about telling Kirishima that he was being absolutely ridiculous, but that didn’t have the best success rate in the past. So, instead, he grabbed his fucking ridiculous boyfriend by the hand and dragged him to Bakugou’s bedroom. If he couldn’t tell Kirishima how stupid he was being, then he’d have to point out every flaw in Kirishima’s argument. Because there was a lot of them.
“Bakugou,” Kirishima started, and his voice was still a little watery but there was a lighter lilt to it, like he was amused. “What are you doing?”
“Winning a fucking argument,” Bakugou retorted, and he pushed Kirishima back on his bed. Kirishima laughed this time, full-bodied and bright, and just like every time the fucker had ever laughed before, the sound sent a wave of warmth though Bakugou’s body. To hide the fact that he was smiling - because Kirishima tended to go doe-eyed every time he made him smile, and Bakugou needed him to be paying attention instead of swooning - he pressed his lips against Kirishima’s and then fisted his hands in his hair.
“Your hair,” he said when he pulled away, and Kirishima blinked at him, confused at the sudden topic change. “Is fucking ridiculous, true, but its color looks so fucking good next to your skin tone, and those damn spikes are so earnestly you that there is literally not a better hairstyle for you.”
Bakugou leaned in to press featherlight kisses along Kirishima’s hairline and tugged lightly on the loose strands that had sprawled out under his head like a red halo. He was wearing his hair down today, since he was desperately close to running out of gel so he had to ration it, and he looked so soft, so sweet, so delectable that it drove Bakugou wild.
“Except for when it’s down,” He added, pressing a kiss against his hairline again. “When it’s down, it frames your face and I have been around models my entire life and I have never seen someone more fucking beautiful than you. It’s so fucking soft, too, and I don’t understand how because you keep putting that bullshit in it, but all I want to do is fucking touch it when it’s down like this.”
“Bakugou,” Kirishima said, a hint of pleading to his voice. Kirishima had a thing about being complimented. Well, a couple things actually, but most of the time it made him squirm, because he was such a humble fucker that it made him uncomfortable to have people sing his praises.
“Be quiet,” Bakugou said, his voice not really leaving any room for argument. Kirishima made protesting sounds, but Bakugou just swallowed them with his mouth. Hands clutched at his shirt, and Bakugou knew when his boyfriend was giving in to him.
He pulled away to press his lips against Kirishima’s cheeks, holding the redhead’s face in place with a hand at his jaw. “Your skin is so fucking smooth. Like, you’re a fucking teenager, what the flying fuck.”
“You skin is smooth too, Blasty,” Kirishima pointed out, and Bakugou covered his mouth with his hand. Kirishima laughed, his hot breath tickling Bakugou’s palm. He smothered another smile by pressing it against Kirishima’s skin.
“My mother is a beautician, what’s your fucking excuse?” Bakugou said, and he pulled away a little so he could just take in Kirishima’s face as a whole. His eyes were shining up at Bakugou, amused, and he could feel the curve of his lips as he beamed up at the blond even from under his hand. It was mesmerizing, this view, and he wondered sometimes how he was lucky enough to have it.
“Your skin tone,” He moved to continue though, because he’d lose his drive if he kept staring. “Is the kind that women spend hours in tanning beds to achieve and it’s just natural for you, and is mixes so well with your hair and eye color.”
“Speaking of those eyes - ” Kirishima kindly closed his eyes so Bakugou could kiss his eyelids, and Bakugou could still feel him smiling under the palm over his mouth. At least Kirishima seemed to be enjoying this; he didn’t know if the redhead was taking him seriously but at least he wasn’t upset anymore. “These eyes are bullshit, Kirishima. Fucking bullshit. They’re fucking huge, for one, but they’re also so expressive and so warm, and if I get winded one more time because you looked at me in a certain way, I am going to fucking kick your ass.”
Kirishima was giggling now, so Bakugou pulled away to glare at him. He blinked his eyes open, and they were wrinkling around the corners, and God, he was just so fucking beautiful. Bakugou wished that he was a poet - and fuck, who wishes for things like that? - just so he could properly express how beautiful he was. He didn’t have the metaphors, or the words really, but damn, was he going to try because honestly? It was driving him crazy to think all of these things about Kirishima but to never actually say them to anyone.
“Are you taking me seriously?” He asked, and Kirishima’s eyes crinkled more as his giggling got worse, so Bakugou pressed his fingers into Kirishima’s cheek, not enough to hurt him but to give a little warning pressure.
“I’m fucking serious, Eijirou. You wind me with your fucking eyes. Do you understand?” Kirishima’s eyes softened, and there it fucking was, Bakugou couldn’t breathe properly. The depth of the affection and humor inside, warm like the sun, warm like home, were killing Bakugou. He moved his hand off of Kirishima’s mouth so he could hold his face in both of his hands, his thumbs skating over the redhead’s cheekbones. He kissed him again, just a languid press of lips, and Bakugou wanted more, wanted to forget that he was trying to prove a point so he could just make out with his boyfriend.
“I love you,” He said when he pulled away, and Kirishima grinned, sappy and gorgeous.
“I love you too,” and Bakugou pulled away to kiss at his temples. Kirishima giggled again, and wrapped his arms around Bakugou’s waist. He hummed contentedly, his go ahead for Bakugou to continue complimenting him.
“I bet you make girls cry with how thick your eyelashes are,” Bakugou murmured, and Kirishima burst out laughing again. Bakugou smothered another smile by kissing a line across his forehead, and then mouthing the thin scar on Kirishima’s brow bone.
“I love this scar,” He said matter of factly, pulling away. Kirishima looked up at him curiously, mirth still dancing in his eyes. “Your face is like cavity-inducingly sweet, but this little badass scar right here reminds me that you’re tough as hell.”
“Bakugou,” Kirishima chided, “I got the scar from scratching myself when I was like, four.”
“Doesn’t matter, still badass.” Bakugou moved from Kirishima’s eyes to mouth along Kirishima’s cheekbones, the other boy tilting his face into the sensation. Bakugou slid that hand down so he could have more room to appreciate Kirishima’s facial structure.
“My father wanted me to ask you to model for him, because of these cheekbones,” He murmured into Kirishima’s ear, and his boyfriend shivered underneath him. He caught Kirishima’s ear with his teeth, forgetting for a moment that he had a purpose here. “My mother wanted to try her contour on you, because she said she had never seen a man with such good bone structure.”
“You talking about your parents,” Kirishima gasped a little when Bakugou nibbled on his earlobe. “While doing that is doing really confusing things to me.”
Bakugou smirked, and pulled away so he could capture Kirishima’s lips with his again. His boyfriend kissed back with a little more gusto and he shifted underneath Bakugou so that their bodies pressed together more tightly. He curled his legs around Bakugou’s and caught his lip between his sharp, sharp teeth and Bakugou was too weak of a man to deny Kirishima. Kirishima’s tongue darted out to lick across Bakugou’s, knowing from experience just how to break Bakugou down.
When Bakugou pulled away, Kirishima tried to follow his lips. He held his head in place with one hand and ran a thumb across Kirishima’s lower lip, and the redhead whined plaintively. Horny, needy Kirishima was a very, very intoxicating person, and very hard to resist, but resist Bakugou must. He knocked his nose against Kirishima’s, running his thumb across Kirishima’s lip again and pulling his own into his mouth. Mesmerizing.
“Your lips,” Bakugou breathed meaningfully. Kirishima’s eyes were half lidded and he was staring at Bakugou through his long lashes, and Bakugou’s breath hitched in his throat. “They’re so hard to resist; all I want to do is kiss them, to bite them.”
“Then why aren’t you?” Kirishima asked, his voice low and husky and it was Bakugou’s turn to shiver. He ignored Kirishima, though, so he could mouth along his jawline, each little noise he elicited from that devilish mouth sending lightning down his spine and straight into his pants.
“Your jawline is manly as hell. I always want to touch it, to put my mouth against it,” He said, and he bit into the tender flesh with his teeth. Kirishima whined and pressed hard against Bakugou, his fingers pressing incessantly against Bakugou’s back. His hips bucked against Bakugou’s and when he felt Kirishima’s erection he was reminded of the other thing that compliments did to Kirishima.
Maybe this was why he got so uncomfortable with compliments, Bakugou considered as he moved on to abusing Kirishima’s neck. The redhead tilted his head and strained against Bakugou’s attention, pressing up into his mouth. When Bakugou bit into his pulse point, a ragged moan was ripped from Kirishima’s mouth.
“Your neck is so pretty, so long and thin. The school uniforms drive me fucking crazy because all they do is bracket your fucking neck,” Bakugou muttered. He slid his hands up Kirishima’s shirt, letting his fingers trace the hard, defined muscles there as he licked a stripe down Kirishima’s neck. He tugged back the collar of his shirt so his collarbone was revealed, and he sucked a bruise where Kirishima could hide it.
When he was pleased with his performance, he sat up so he could tug Kirishima’s shirt off, and the redhead caught his lips again before he could stop him. He indulged, licking his way into Kirishima’s mouth so he could taste him, so he could feel his hot breath against his face. He ran his palms over Kirishima’s sides, thrilling in the way his muscles contracted under the touch while he reacquainted himself with his boyfriend’s mouth, with the peaks of his teeth and the curl of his tongue.
Kirishima’s eyes were blown and fogged over when they pulled away, breathless. The sight was so tantalizing, it was hard to pull away. Bakugou pressed Kirishima back into the mattress and took the chance to take him in as a whole.
There was Kirishima, with his lips swollen and eyes heavy-lidded, shirtless and on display in front of him, his arms held over his head where they had fallen. He was relaxed, practically melting in the bed, peering lustily at Bakugou. Bakugou reached out and traced the lines of his muscles on his chest, on his stomach, traced the way his body dipped into his waist and flared just a little to his hips and he experienced the oddest sensation of salivating while his mouth felt so, so very dry. The sight of the black pants and belt pressing against Kirishima’s tanned skin was doing a lot of things for him, especially the way the front of Kirishima’s pants was very obviously tented.
Kirishima reached for Bakugou, his hand catching at Bakugou’s shirt and Bakugou’s mind wasn’t really working. Kirishima was just so gorgeous, so obscenely beautiful and it made so little sense to him that Kirishima didn’t realize that. Bakugou was lucky, so insanely lucky, that Kirishima would let him see him like this, debauched and shirtless and handsome.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Kirishima complained, and for a second, Bakugou agreed. He was wearing too many clothes, both of them were. But then he remembered what he just been doing, and he smirked before leaning over and pressing his mouth against Kirishima’s shoulder.
“Too fucking bad,” He murmured, tracing the line of his collarbone with his tongue. Kirishima’s breath hitched, and his hands went back to cling to Bakugou. “This isn’t about me.”
“Katsuki,” He whined, but Bakugou ignored him, tracing the bruise he had left earlier with his tongue as he made his way from one side of Kirishima’s broad shoulders to the other.
“The fact that you could probably break my arm if you really wanted to really fucking turns me on, you have no idea,” Bakugou said, gently nipping at the swell of Kirishima’s deltoid. The redhead laughed, but it petered off breathlessly when Bakugou pressed his hands down Kirishima’s abs.
“You’re so fucking strong, and that’s so fucking hot,” He said, tracing his bicep with his tongue. He caught Kirishima’s hand in his so he could hold it in place while he pressed kisses up his forearm. “I didn’t think I was the type to want someone stronger than me, but I really fucking am. God, you have no idea how much it turns me on that you can just pick me up and carry me.”
“Katsuki,” Kirishima murmured breathlessly. Bakugou slid his eyes over from where he was kissing the palm of Kirishima’s hand, noting the way his chest was heaving. Another thing Bakugou didn’t realize he’d like, because Bakugou was innately selfish and he was well aware of the fact, was that he really fucking enjoyed helping Kirishima get his rocks off. Even if he didn’t get off, there was something just so damn good about bringing his boyfriend to the edge, knowing that he was pleasing him that much. Maybe it was a power thing, because it sure as hell did make him feel powerful.
He sucked one of Kirishima’s fingers into his mouth, and the other boy groaned.
“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Kirishima murmured, and Bakugou only hummed around the digit in his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the finger before sucking another one in his mouth and Kirishima keened. He pressed the palm that Bakugou wasn’t currently preoccupied with into his crotch, throwing his head back when he finally got friction. Bakugou smirked around his fingers, and pulled away with a loud pop.
“I love your hands,” He started, ignoring the way that Kirishima whined when Bakugou tugged both of Kirishima’s hands to his chest. “They’re big, and wide, and even though they’re strong as fuck, you’re so gentle with them. The fucking things they do to me when you slide them across my skin.”
He let Kirishima wiggle his hands out of his grip to duck underneath the hem of Bakugou’s shirt, sighing in pleasure as they scraped up his body. The fingers were calloused, but the skin on the palms was thick and smooth and the texture combination drove him wild. When Kirishima’s thumb flicked his nipple, he had to bite back the moan that threatened to escape.
“And your fingers, my god,” He said, and Kirishima smirked below him, palming across his chest now and sliding those deft fingers though the valleys of his muscles. His hands were hot, so fucking hot, and Bakugou couldn’t get enough of them. “They’re so fucking wide.”
One of Kirishima’s hands came to knead at Bakugou’s ass through his pants, tracing his fingers across the seam in the fabric, reminding Bakugou acutely of just where the wideness of Kirishima’s fingers came into play. Bakugou shivered, and shook off Kirishima’s hands. The redhead pouted, but his expression quickly slacked when Bakugou threw his leg over his hips and settled his ass right on Kirishima’s erection. His fingers dug into Bakugou’s hips and he bucked up immediately, unsurprisingly. Bakugou bit his lips because fuck.
He leaned back over Kirishima and traced his pecs with his mouth, occasionally ducking his tongue out to taste the flesh beneath his mouth. Kirishima tried to rut against him again, but he didn’t want his boyfriend to end up coming in his pants, so he pressed Kirishima’s hips down.
“You’re a fucking tease, ” Kirishima gasped out, digging his fingers deeper against Bakugou’s hips. He wouldn’t be surprised if he had bruises the next day, but the display of strength was making his head cloudy.
“We both know you’re stronger than me,” Bakugou pointed out, mouthing across the plane of Kirishima’s chest. “You could easily shake me off and rut to your heart’s content.”
“I like it when you consent,” Kirishima deadpanned, and Bakugou smirked against his skin. “It turns me on.”
“What a good boy,” Bakugou muttered, swirling his tongue around Kirishima’s nipple and sucking it into his mouth as a reward. Kirishima arched into him, a ragged moan ripping from his throat and his chest vibrated under Bakugou’s lips.
“Your hero costume drives me wild,” Bakugou said against his skin, making sure to be loud enough that Kirishima could hear. “All of those muscles, all of that tanned skin just out on display, for everyone. Sometimes I see people stare at you and I get so fucking jealous, because you’re mine, but you let fucking everyone see this.”
“If I wore a shirt, I’d just rip it-”
“With your quirk, I fucking know. I pay attention,” He murmured, moving down so he could trace Kirishima’s abs with his tongue. “Doesn’t mean I gotta like it.”
“You’re the only one that gets to see me like this,” Kirishima panted, and Bakugou glanced at him from under his eyelashes. His head was thrown back, his hair fanning around his face and plastered to his forehead; his face and throat were red, and he was so fucking hot.
“I better fucking be,” Bakugou muttered, lunging forward to catch Kirishima’s lips in a messy, heady kiss. Kirishima threw himself into it, fisting his hand into Bakugou’s hair and pressing him close, and Bakugou’s strenuous connection to his willpower snapped. He ground his hips against Kirishima’s, swallowing his boyfriend’s moan greedily. Kirishima took the invitation and rutted up into Bakugou, creating a frantic rhythm that was making Bakugou see stars. He could feel the burn in his stomach, spreading across his body and threatening to send him spilling over.
“Close, so fucking close,” Kirishima muttered against his lips. It took a lot of effort, but he managed to pull away from Kirishima’s mouth and climb off of him. Kirishima growled and reached for Bakugou, but Bakugou just caught Kirishima’s hands in his and pressed kisses to his palms. He kneeled by Kirishima’s hips and dropped his hands so that he could unbuckle his belt. Kirishima stilled, and when Bakugou looked up he could see the anticipation bright in his eyes.
“Speaking of your quirk,” He said, and Kirishima groaned.
“Dude, I can think of better uses for your mouth right now,” Kirishima whined. Bakugou ignored him as he unbuttoned his pants and started working both his underwear and his jeans down his legs.
“Speaking of your quirk,” he repeated, and Kirishima sighed. “That unbreakable mode of yours? Hot.”
“Dude,” Kirishima laughed.
“I know, it shouldn’t be hot, because you’ve gone all fucking polygonal and you’re like a moving crystal, but fuck, Kirishima,” Bakugou groaned, picturing it in his head. “It reminds me of how fucking strong you are, and how fucking amazing you are; all of the progress you’ve made. It’s a display of your power, and that is so fucking hot. ”
“Dude,” Kirishima said, his voice catching in his throat. Bakugou pressed his lips against Kirishima’s calf as he tugged Kirishima’s pants over his feet. He held Kirishima’s foot and looked at it for a second.
“Look, I’m not a foot person, but,” Bakugou said, and Kirishima stared at him. “You even have nice feet, what the fuck.”
“Bakugou,” Kirishima whined, and Bakugou dropped his foot to crawl back up his body. He pressed a kiss against the place where his torso curved out to form his ass. He brought his hands up to squeeze at the swell of flesh, making appreciative noises.
“Have I mentioned the fact that I love that you do a ridiculous amount of squats? Because you have a fucking fantastic ass,” Bakugou murmured, and Kirishima rolled his eyes.
“Katsuki,” he admonished, and Bakugou chuckled to himself. He pressed his face into the junction of Kirishima thigh and hip, inhaling a scent that was a distinct mixture of Kirishima and arousal. Then, he turned his head towards Kirishima’s dick.
“Your fucking dick,” Bakugou practically purred, and he leaned forward to press his tongue against the side, licking up its length. Kirishima’s thighs quivered under his hands and he murmured something incoherently. His hand found Bakugou’s hair and he tugged hard on the blond strands.
“I love your dick,” Bakugou murmured, swirling his tongue around the head. Kirishima’s hips jerked up, but Bakugou managed to keep them from jabbing Kirishima’s cock into his mouth. “I love its weight, its girth, its length.”
“I love it when it's inside of me,” Bakugou said, and Kirishima whimpered.
“Katsuki -” Kirishima started, but Bakugou interrupted him by swallowing his dick all the way down, not stopping until his lips were pressed around the base. Bakugou looked up at Kirishima; the redhead’s eyes had rolled back, and he was panting, his hips twitching under Bakugou’s mouth. He could tell Kirishima was close, that he’d brought him to the edge already. He swallowed once, twice, around Kirishima’s dick and then he was done, calling Bakugou’s name breathlessly and spilling down his throat.
Bakugou swallowed everything down and pulled away with an obscene pop. He crawled over Kirishima’s boneless body to kiss him, going back to the lazy languid kisses. He didn’t really know which kisses he liked the most, if it was these lazy ones that were comfortable and warm, or if it was the hot and frenzied ones, or the softer ones intended for serious moments. Or, maybe, he just really fucking liked kissing Kirishima.
He pulled away and pushed Kirishima’s sweaty hair from his forehead and then smoothed his hand over his hair, running his fingers though it while he waited for Kirishima’s eyes to clear up and for him to become more coherent.
“So, in conclusion, you’re fucking more than attractive enough for me,” He said, once Kirishima seemed alert enough take him seriously. Kirishima snorted, and then pulled him down for another kiss.
“I love you,” He murmured against his lips, and Bakugou smiled.
“I love you, too.”