Chapter Text
A normal sparring match after class in the dorm’s gym. That’s all it was supposed to be. On any given day, Bakugo could kick most of Class A’s ass in a No-Quirks-Allowed Hand-to-Hand grapple. Most of Class A because Sugar Baby, Tentacle Porn, and Human Lemur give him a run for his money(not that he’d ever admit it)- never had anyone from his own damn squad given him trouble, though. Yet, here he was, with Kirishima getting pin after pin after pin after pin against him.
Gritting his teeth, the blond shoved the red head off of him with more aggression than he’d really meant to. “One more,” Bakugo growled through his panting breath as he got to his feet. Kirishima practically rolled his eyes, fighting to hold back a smirk as he replied, “you’ve been saying ‘one more’ for the last hour and a half. Maybe you should just say you’re having a bad day and we call it quits. It’s getting late anywa-”
Bakugo’s growl and piercing glare quickly interrupted him, “One. More.” Kirishima raised his hands in a mock sign of surrender and stood, moving into a defensive position, “alright, but forreal this time… Only one more.” If Kirishima wasn’t Bakugo’s friend, he would have been scared shitless at the snarling grin the hot head threw at him as the blond took an offensive stance.
And thus, the game was on. Bakugo put up one hell of a struggle fight, but it still ended with him face down on the mat, the explosion hero’s arms hooked by Kirishima’s and forced up and in by the red head's forearms. Kirishima's hands pressed gently but firmly into the middle of Bakugo’s back as the blond tried to roll and buck the red head off. Kirishima dug his feet into the mat, keeping Bakugo securely pinned. “Sorry, man, looks like I beatcha today! But don’t worry, you’re still heroic as hell!” Kirishima laughed lightheartedly.
Bakugo knew that he wasn’t laughing at him. But the anger and frustration(and embarrassment) that coursed through him caused small sparks to fly from his hands as his defeated body finally sagged against the sponged surface beneath him. And that’s when Kirishima noticed something was a little off. Bakugo didn’t shove at him, or yell, or any of his typical Bakugo-behaviors. He just laid there, panting. Kirishima loosened his grip on Bakugo’s arms to place his hands on the mat, Bakugo’s arms falling to the floor at his sides as Kirishima hovered over him. “Bakubro? You good?” Kirishima asked, too scared to move in case his friend needed help. Had he gone too far? Was Bakugo hurt? There wasn't any blood, they didn't throw any punches, just capture and evasive maneuvers-
Bakugo was scarlet from head to toe, his skin splotched with red, breath no longer heaving. He looked… fine? for just having put up one hell of a fight in their match. Still, he didn’t move. “Yeah, shitty hair, I’m fucking fantastic. Go on, get outta here. I won’t be far behind,” his voice came out shaky and rougher than usual, but still confident with that ‘no room for arguing’ tone. Why was his body betraying him like this- Bakugo could feel Kirishima’s worried frown burning into the back of his head, but he wouldn’t move. He refused. Kirishima had to leave first. There was no way he was getting up, not when he was-
Kirishima let his body weight fall on top of his friend in a petulant display of ‘I’m not leaving you here by yourself, you asshole.’ Except, suddenly Kirishima’s hips were pressed into the side of Bakugo’s, Kirishima’s chest bearing down against his back, Bakugo's hips forced downwards just so that he actually moaned-
Fuck.
It was Kirishima's turn to blush. “K… Katsuki?” Kirishima asked hesitantly, unmoving from his position on top of the blond; like if he made any sudden movements, Bakugo might decide to kill him.
The sound of Bakugo’s name- his actual factual first fucking name- falling from those disgustingly sweet lips nearly drove Bakugo to madness. “Look, just get the fuck off me, alright?! Get out of-”
“But why-?”
The question made Bakugo’s heart skip a beat, and for a split second he considered- No, he couldn’t consider that. So, instead, he lashed out, “why what, idiot?! Why should you get the fuck out or why did I get a fucking boner?! Or- better yet- why are you asking stupid fucking questions?!”
Still, Kirishima remained so nicely flush against the blond currently trying desperately not to squirm or shiver that Kirishima's body reacted to the words, the idea that Bakugo was...
The second the red head’s cock twitched with possible interest against the side of his hip, Bakugo froze . In a split second, his body was strung like a line ready to snap at any moment.
Suddenly, Kirishima’s hand was threaded through coarse ash-yellow strands, flexing his fingers at the root, and pulling. Bakugo didn’t fight, his head and chest bowed off of the mat, tired muscles straining as he arched so beautifully that the red head could finally get a proper look at the rosiness across Bakugo’s features.
The lightbulb clicked on in Kirishima's brain with the moan, but he hadn't fully processed the information until he saw the frustrated pinch of Bakugo's eyebrows, the slight puffiness at the corner of his lower lip where it looked like it had been worried roughly between teeth, the way Bakugo's lips were parted slightly as he fought to keep his breathing under control…
Of course, Kirishima being- well- Kirishima, he just couldn't help it… "Do you want me to fuck you?" he'd asked very simply, not concerned with any kind of tact or… seduction. Because consent is important and also he kind of couldn't believe it.
The blond scowled, spitting out his words like they were venom through gritted teeth, "the fuck kinda question is that, asshole?!" But he couldn't deny the fact that his body was moving on its own, betraying him further by pressing up against Kirishima's dick like he needed it.
Kirishima's breath left his body in a sharp exhale, Bakugo's tank top doing very little to protect his shoulders and neck from the warm, wet air. Kirishima's hips stuttered forward, searching for more friction against Bakugo. "Well excuse me for wanting to be manly and get consent first…" he paused for a second, tilting his head down to let his breath ghost over Bakugo's ear. The action rewarded him with a shiver and Bakugo's breath catching ever so slightly as Kirishima whispered, "plus, maybe I just wanna hear you ask for it…"
The sudden realization that Kirishima was everywhere hit Bakugo in chest like a bag of bricks- in his ear, against his back, solid chest still pinning him effortlessly to the floor, the hand in his hair that applied firm, even pressure to his scalp, the other hand still blocking him in… shit. Was Bakugo fucking Katsuki actually considering begging the love of his life his best friend to fuck him? "Fucking- yeah, alright, Jesus Christ shitty hair, I want you to fu-aH-ck m-me- what the hell was that for?!"
With a new confidence thrumming through him boosted by the mere thought that he had that kind of effect on Bakugo, Kirishima took the lobe of the blond's ear between his pointed teeth. More of a warning nip than anything, but still, the point had been made. "What's my name, Katsuki?" his voice rumbling so deep in his chest that it sent pulsing, electric heat straight to Bakugo's dick.
Bakugo would fight tooth and nail against anyone who dared to think for a second that he whimpered- but there was no way to describe the broken, almost pained noise that passed his lips.
"Fuck , Eijiro, p… please…"