🍒Cherry Red🍒

|• #krbk Superstar AU
|• Rockstar Bakugou
|• Fan Eijirou
|• Bottom Kirishima
It startes with a name. A name on a special list in the hands of Bakugou’s manager, Izuki Midoriya, as he chases him down the hall behind the venue Bakugou and his band just finished playing.
“Kacchan, where are you going?! We are not done here!” He shrieks trying to keep up with Bakugou’s much longer strides as he marches for the door.
“Bed, like I fuckin’ told you the first ten times.” He snaps, stepping around the crew readying the band equipment to be loaded into the vans. “Just tell him I’m sick or some shit, and give him tickets to my next show. He probably won’t even care.”
Deku lets out a frustrated groan. “Just five minutes, Kacchan. That’s all I’m asking for. Then I’ll fake an emergency, and you can leave without disappointing anyone.” he tries to bargain.
“Still not fuckin doing it.”

“But this is the whole reason so many people fight to get back stage passes to your shows!”

Bakugou shrugs, kicking open the exterior door leading outside as the crowd of fans waiting erupts into screams of his name.
What Deku’s referring to, is the special perk Bakugou added to the limited number of back stage passes sold for each of his concerts, where one lucky holder is randomly chosen to spend one on one time with him.
Which was great, in the beginning, when it was just about the music, but somewhere along the line as his fame grew, they became a chore as he realized most people only cared about what they could get from him to post on their social media accounts for bragging rights.
He always still goes – begrudgingly – but tonight…he just doesn’t have the patience for it. He’s been up for the last seventy two hours straight between back to back shows, and meet and greets, and interviews, and rehearsals, +
and a damn party he had to appear at for some celebrity he barely remembers meeting, but the publicity team said it would look good, and made him go.
He’s fucking beat. The last few ounces of energy he had from the adrenaline of the show he just did, burned off with the last round of fans, and if he has to go now and pretend to be interested in someone who’s not truly interested in him, he’s gonna explode.
Thankfully, the crowd keeps Deku quiet as Bakugou makes his way to the bus – not that they could hear anything over their screaming even if they tried – but the second they’re alone again he’s right back at it.
“Kacchan, please you cannot afford any more bad publicity right now.”
“Its fine, just fuck off.” He grumbles, throwing himself down on the couch. He’s only gonna get a little bit of peace and quiet before the band comes back from their celebrations and wakes him up again. He just wants an hour. One stupid hour to himself without someone nagging!
“If you keep this up, the record company is gonna drop you.”

Bakugou sighs. Well, shit. “Fine. Five fucking minutes. That’s all I’m doing. And it has to be out here.”

“On the bus?”
“That’s the only way I’ll do it.” he says, refusing to let Deku feel like he’s won as he rolls over to bury his face in the cushions of the couch. So fucking much for sleep. “And you’re fired.”
“You can’t fire me, Kacchan, I was hired by your mother.” Deku sighs, not seeming bothered in the slightest by Bakugou’s threats. “I’ll be back soon.”

Fucking hag. He was doing just fine managing his own career. He didn’t need this shitty nerd telling him what to do.
“Wait a minute.” Bakugou calls, stopping him. “What’s this guy’s name, anyway?” It’s not important information to have right now, obviously, but it helps sell the performance a little if he has a minute to look up his special guest's social media accounts first.
“Umm…looks like Kirishima. Kirishima Eijirou.”
As soon as Deku leaves, Bakugou digs his phone from his pocket, lifts his head just barely enough to see the screen, and types in the name. In a matter of seconds, he’s found the guy’s profiles, and yup, he’s one of the mega fan boys.
He likes every one of Bakugou’s posts, always comments, he’s been posting stories and videos the entire time he was watching the concert, and he runs one of Bakugou’s biggest fan pages.
Yeah, this is gonna be a huge fucking waste of his time. This kid – okay, that’s not fair because they’re actually the same age – is gonna come in here wanting to take pictures, +
and record a bunch of ten second videos to post on his Inst//agram and Tw//itter to boost his own fame, then he’ll make Bakugou sign a few more things for him, and Bam! Meeting over.
It’s not like he can’t appreciate the hustle – people can get really popular in fandoms with the right content – but…fuck, maybe he’s just being a whiny baby about it, but he just wishes things could be like they used to be.
Back when his fans were interested “in” him rather than what they could gain “from” him.
But of course, he can’t say anything about that or he’ll be accused of being “ungrateful” for the fame he’s been given. Like he’s popular, so he should just shut the fuck up and be happy. Like that’s all that’s fucking important.
But he has feelings too, damn it! And just because he’s fucking famous doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be allowed to get upset about being used. He’s only human, after all.

While he waits on Deku, he decides to get up and change into something a little more comfortable.
He’ll probably get scolded, but he doesn’t really give a shit. Maybe if he looks like a bum this guy won’t want so many pictures, and then he can get back to his original plan of going to sleep before everyone else comes back to bother him.
The tour bus set up is pretty basic. It’s flashy on the surface, but really there’s just the main seating area, a kitchen that’s way too small to be useful, a bathroom, and the bunks for he and the band in the back.

It’s not exactly homey, but it serves its purpose.
At the foot of his bunk, he locates his suitcase and digs out a pair of sweatpants and his favorite black T-shirt. It’s pretty old and worn at this point – he’s had it since he was a teen – but it’s comfortable, and soft, and still his go to whenever he has a rare moment to relax
Then comes the difficult process of trying to get dressed. The bathroom would be the most logical choice, but there have been six people sharing that bathroom for the last month of this tour with very little cleaning.
There is not a chance in hell any of his clothing is touching that floor.

So, changing in his bunk it is.

“Hey Kacchan? I’m back.”
//Shit…//he cusses under his breath, still midway through trying to get his pants off. That damn nerd was faster than he anticipated. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.” He snaps shortly, finally successful in his attempt to free his legs from their prison.
Anyone who says it’s simple to peel themselves out of skinny jeans while laying down is fucking liar. And those especially are unlikely to be worn again for their difficulty.
Quickly, he yanks on his sweats, chucks off the grimy shirt he just performed in – he really could probably use a shower too, but there isn’t time for that – and WHACK! Just as he’s sitting up to try to get his clean shirt on, he hits his head on the corner of the bunk light.
“Fuck!” he shouts; throwing himself back against the mattress as he clutches his head in pain. It’s not the first time he’s clipped himself on that damn thing, but it’s certainly the hardest.
“Uhh…are you alright back there, dude?”

“I’m fucking fine!” he grits through his teeth, only realizing after he’s said it that that voice definitely didn’t belong to Deku.
Great, it was probably the fan he’s meeting. The press is gonna have a field day with that when this guy blabs to his followers tonight about what a prick he was. Not that it’ll change much. His temper seems to be the only thing they talk about these days.
“Are you sure? That sounded like it hurt pretty bad…”

Bakugou rolls his eyes. Pushy fucker. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be right there.” He says, trying to sound less annoyed as he sits up to find his shirt. And then he sees the blood on his hand.
It’s not a lot, so he knows it isn’t serious, but it’s enough that against the pale color of his hair it’s gonna be noticeable. And now he has to go take a bunch of pictures and deal with this fan. He sighs. Just fucking lovely.
He’s not sure how, but this is definitely Deku’s fault. And he’s definitely gonna tell him that when he sees him. Just as soon as he finishes with this fan bullshit.
While keeping pressure on his wound with the wadded up t-shirt he just wore on stage, he shoves back the privacy curtain and crawls out of his bunk, careful to mind the nearly non-existent space between his head and the bunk above him this time.
“Listen, I’m not feeling very –“ he starts to explain, trying to make sure this guy knows immediately that this isn’t gonna be a long meeting, only to drop off mid-sentence when he comes through the second curtain separating the bunks from the rest of the bus +
and sees him for the first time.

He’s not sure what he was expecting when he envisioned this fan – maybe he was just too distracted by the awful red dye job - but it definitely wasn’t the man standing before him.
What. The. fuck. Who the hell have this shitty haired Adonis the right to be so fucking pretty?
~Kirishima’s POV~
“Whoa, are you sure you’re alright, man?” Kirishima asks when THE Bakugou Katsuki – he’s trying really hard not to think too much about where he is right now or he’s definitely gonna make a fool of himself – +
comes out from behind the curtain with a wadded-up t-shirt pressed to his head.

“Yeah, fine.” Bakugou mumbles, giving a little shake of his head to get the dazed look out of his eyes before plopping himself down on the couch.
But Eijirou can’t just be expected to let it go, can he? No way. Bakugou is obviously injured, and even though he’s a superstar – the coolest most manly man Eijirou’s ever seen – it wouldn’t make Eijirou much of a man himself if he treated him any different because of that.
“I’m certified in first aid. Just let me take a look to make sure it’s not serious.”
Bakugou’s mouth pops open like he’s gonna protest before snapping shut again as he nods. “Fine, but you’d better not be fuckin lying.” He grumbles, scowling despite the way his eyes keep traveling up and down Eijirou’s body.
Honestly, it’s making him a little subconscious. Does his idol not like the way he looks? But he tries to shake it off and just focus on the task at hand as he sits down beside him on the couch and searching for the source of the bleeding through his hair.
“Are you some kind of doctor, or something?”
Eijirou chuckles. “No dude, trust me. I’m nowhere near smart enough for that. I’m a personal trainer, I just thought it’d be good to know some first aid just in case one of my clients ever got hurt.”
He’s never actually had to use it on a client before, but right now he’s thinking getting his certification was definitely the best move he ever made.
When he manages to locate the little cut in Bakugou’s scalp, he’s relieved to find it’s not as bad as the bleeding makes it seem.
In fact, all it really looks like it needs is a good cold compress – and maybe some ibuprofen for the headache he’ll have in the morning – and he’ll be fine.

“Is there ice in the freezer?”

Bakugou nods.
Eijirou gets up – it wouldn’t be very manly of him to make Bakugou do it himself – and puts some ice cubes in a paper towel for him. “Just put this on your head to help with the discomfort and bleeding, and you should be fine.”
Bakugou eyes the makeshift icepack for a moment before taking it and putting it against his head. “Thanks, Shitty Hair.”
“And people say you don’t have any manners.” Eijirou teases, surprising himself with how easily the words fall from his lips. And how not devastated he is by his idol calling his hair shitty.

“Trust me, I don't. Now sit, Shitty Hair. Tell me about yourself.”
Eijirou nods dumbly, trying to ignore the sudden little skip he feels in his chest when Bakugou grabs his wrist to yank him back down. Would it be bad if he never washed that arm again? “Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking you things?”
Bakugou scoffs. “Fuck that. I bet you already know everything there is to know about me, don’t you Shitty Hair?”
He feels his cheeks burn as he looks away, trying to avoid Bakugou’s gaze. It’s true. Bakugou could ask him anything right now and he has no doubts that he could answer without hesitation.
But that’s just because he’s a really big fan, okay? “My hair isn’t shitty.” He says, trying to change the subject.
“Who told you that. Your girlfriend?”

“No! No girlfriends. I’m gay. Super gay.” he practically shouts.
He’s not really sure why it matters so much to him – okay…that’s a lie. Bakugou Katsuki is the most handsome, manly man Eijirou has ever seen. And even if he literally has zero chances of ever getting to be with him, he still doesn’t want Bakugou thinking he’s straight.
“Your boyfriend then.”
“No boyfriends either. It’s just me. All alone. Super single.” He blurts out, continuing on his word vomit streak of making a fool of himself. But who could blame him? It’s not every day a person gets to meet someone they look up to.
Bakugou gives an interested hum; eyeing him like a hunter eyes his prey.

And damn it, Eijirou can honestly say he’s never been happier to be looked at like prey in his life.
Bakugou stretches his arm across the back of the couch, strangely close to Eijirou shoulders. “You being /super/ single wouldn’t have anything to do with that account you run, would it?” he asks, his tone teasing.
He gulps. “You know about my fan account?”

“Kinda difficult to miss, Shitty Hair.” He says, shifting again.
Eijirou knows he’s turning about fifty shades of red as he side eyes the hand that’s now mere centimeters from touching him, feeling like he’s gonna spontaneously combust. But he can’t really be blamed, can he?
He’s had a million fantasies about this man over the few years he’s been following his career, and a lot of them start off similar to this.
Teasing conversations, and light flirting, and little touches, and then suddenly he’s being thrown down against the couch and ravished by Bakugou’s mouth as he tears through his clothing like a wild animal, and insults his 'shitty hair’, and calls him names, and…
Okay, Eijirou might have a slight degradation kink he didn’t know about until right this moment, but the point is, he’s just having a really hard time keeping his thoughts PG right now.
And that’s weird because Bakugou is gorgeous, and famous, and yeah he’s got a bit of a foul attitude, but there’s still no reality where he goes for someone like Eijirou.
A random fan whose claim to fandom fame was a video he accidentally posted of himself drunk and crying about how good Bakugou’s new album was, that happened to get shared by a lot of people.
It was just lick. And this too – getting chosen out of all the backstage pass holders to be the one that gets to spend one on one time with him – was just another random bit of luck.
Neither of those things makes him special. And neither of those things makes him any more likely to be the one in a million fan that gets a shot at having anything actually happen between them and their fantasy partner.
“So, tell me, Shitty Hair.” Bakugou starts, dragging his mind back from the gutter. “What do you do for a living when you’re not stalking me online?”
Eijirou’s blush deepens. Stalking someone definitely isn’t manly, but when Bakugou says it…

“I’m a personal trainer.”

“Tch. Why am I not surprised.” Bakugou scoffs.
Which, yeah, tends to be most people’s reaction when they learn what he does, because his build is certainly the build of someone who works out all day. But he kinda has to, doesn’t he?
If he’s gonna recommend plans to people for how to get swole and make gains, he should know they work.

Plus, telling someone to try something he hasn’t personally tested on himself first would just be super unmanly. And if there’s anything Eijirou hates, it’s being unmanly.
~Bakugou’s POV~
Bakugou Katsuki is used to getting what he wants. Blame it on the fame, or growing up with rich parents, or just his unstoppable determination. But when he sets his mind to something, there’s nothing that’ll make him stop until he gets it.
Like topping the charts with his music. He told all these extras the first day he met them, he was gonna be number one. Some believed him, some just humored him like 'sure kid', without ever thinking it would be true.
But he did top the charts. In his first fucking year, with his first album, he became the most popular artist in Japan. Not because he was just 'good', or the label he signed with was world famous. No.
It was all determination. His willingness to do whatever he had to, to fight his way to the top.

And while that may have wowed Japan, those close to him were unsurprised. Because they knew who Bakugou fucking Katsuki was.
Someone who’d been topping charts all his life, whether it was through modeling, or academics, or sports. If he said he was gonna do something, nothing in the world could stop him until he was the undeniable best. Until it was /his/.
So, the minute this glorious idiot stepped onto his bus, he knew he was gonna find a way to make him stay.
He may be an asshole, but he knows how to schmooze, okay? Music, modeling, it doesn’t matter. If you’re gonna be in this industry, you’ve gotta know who to turn the charm on for if you’re gonna make it to the top.
Hence, the game of fifty questions. Because the only thing he’s interested in topping right now is redhead, but he needed an in first. A reason to make him stick around. And the minute he heard 'personal trainer’s he knew he had it. The perfect hook.
“How many clients you got, Shitty Hair?” Bakugou asks. If he’s gonna hire him, then he’s gotta feel out the competition, right?


The wasn’t helpful at all. “Do you work for a gym or yourself.”

“Umm…a gym."
He could probably get that shitty nerd to work something out with them. “Ever work with anyone famous?”

“No, dude, nothing like that. Just locals mostly.”
“Do you /want/ to work with someone famous?”

“Well, I mean, I don’t /not/ want to, but –“

“You’re hired.”
Bakugou isn’t sure what kind of a response he was expecting, but stunned silence definitely isn’t it.

“Hired? How? You’re on tour, man, and my gym is in Chiba.”
Bakugou shrugs. “I’m sure we can work something out.” He tells him. There’s still an extra bunk in back, and if he throws enough money at the gym he’s sure he can buy out whatever contract Kirishima has with them. “You’ll have to be willing to come on the rest of my tour though.”
He assumes he doesn’t have to explain any further what that’ll mean. If this guy is as much of a fan as he seems, he’ll already know there’s only two more concerts left here in Asia before he has to fly out to America, +
so he’ll have to be okay with being gone for the next few months.

“Wow, I don’t know, dude. Can I have a little time to think about it?”
Bakugou doesn’t want to say yes, because he’s a little worried Kirishima will leave and he’ll never see him again, but he’s not about to beg him to stay either. He’s not that fucking desperate.
He just saw an opportunity and decided to take it. He needed a personal trainer, this guy just happened to be one, and a fan, and he’s decent to look at, and he’s…okay, he seems like a himbo, but he’s tolerable. And there aren’t a lot of people Bakugou will say that about.
So, despite wanting to tell him he can take the offer now or fuck off, he agrees to give him a few days to consider it. “Just DM me or whatever when you decide.”

“Okay, thanks man, I definitely will.”
Three days later, he gets a message from Kirishima while he’s being prepared for an interview with some magazine he doesn’t care about, saying he’s in. And two weeks after that, he’s meeting up with them at the airport to fly out to America.
“Is that him?” Kaminari asks for what seems like the hundredth time as they sit in the lounge, waiting for their plane to be ready to board.

“No.” Bakugou tells him, not even bothering to look up.
Kirishima’s been texting him updates since he got here, so he knows he’s still going through security.

“What about that guy?”


“That one?”
“When he gets here you’ll know, so until then just shut the hell up, Pikachu!” Bakugou shouts. He’s been hearing that idiots voice nonstop grilling him all day for more information on their mysterious new group member, and he’s fucking sick of it.
“Jeez, Bakugou, there’s no reason to bite my head off.” Kaminari pouts. “Better be careful you don’t treat the new guy like this, or you’ll run him off within the week. Guaranteed.”
Bakugou scoffs. “Whatever.” He says, rolling his eyes as he stares back down at his phone, ignoring him.

“We should make bets on how long it takes.” Sero says, making a show of keeping his voice hushed despite the way he keeps glancing in Bakugou’s direction.
“To see how long what takes?” Kaminari asks. Whether or not his cluelessness is an act or he’s just trying to add more fuel to the fire, Bakugou doesn’t know, but he’s gonna bite either way.
“You know, about the new guy and how long it takes good ol' Blasty to have him running.”

“Three days maximum.”

They’re just trying to get under his skin. He just needs to ignore him.

“I’m not even sure he’ll last the flight.”

They just want a reaction.
“I don’t know, dudes, I think you might be wrong.” Tetsutetsu – the bodyguard – chimes in. “Have you seen how glued he’s been to his phone lately? I think he might be really trying to impress this guy.”
Bakugou pauses mid text, readjusting quickly to try to hide the heat rushing to his face. Stupid fucking nosy bastard extras. He’s lucky he doesn’t fire the whole lot of them and just go solo.
“Damn, Tetsu! I think you might be right. I think you made our Blasty blush!”

Bakugou grits his teeth. “I ain’t fuckin blushing, Soy Sauce Face! Mind your own business.”
“He is! He totally is! Awww, Blasty has a crush.” Kaminari teases, pretending to swoon.

Alright, that’s it. Bakugou leaps out of his seat; fists balling at his sides and a vein popping out of his forehead. “Time to die, extras!”
Before all hell can break lose, Jirou and Momo are out of their seats and standing between them, trying to defuse the situation the best they can – mostly Bakugou – before he can murder Sero and Kaminari.
“Sit down, Bakugou.” Jirou tells him, trying her best to wrestle hin back into his chair.

“Just as soon as I cram these two idiots inside each other like a pair of fucking nesting dolls!” Bakugou roars, fighting against her hold.
“You guys are acting like animals! This behavior is completely unbefitting of public figures.” Momo chides, blocking his path to Sero and Kaminari who are both standing behind her snickering and high fiving like the morons they are.
And then he catches it. The flash of red off to his right and the sound of someone clearing their throat. He stops fighting, looking over to find Kirishima standing there uncomfortably chuckling as he rubs the back of his neck. “Uhhh…hey guys, hope I’m not interrupting.”
~Kirishima’s POV~
Walking up to find the whole group he’s supposed to be living with for the next few months ready to kill each other…maybe makes him briefly question what exactly he’s gotten himself into.
“Oh, don’t mind Blasty, he just hasn’t had his nap today.” A blonde guy with crazy black lightning bolts in his hair says, leaping over the back of the lounge chair to come greet him. “Hi, I’m Kaminari Denki, and you must be the new trainer.”
“Uhhh…yeah. Kirishima Eijirou. Nice to meet you.” He says, catching Bakugou’s heated gaze briefly before he looks away when Kaminari puts his arm around his shoulder and leads him over to the rest of the group.
“Come on, let’s get you introduced to everyone.”

Right. Introductions. “Sure, dude, that’d be awesome.” He says, trying his best not to look as nervous as he feels, and risk giving away that he definitely doesn’t need to officially meet any of them to know who they are.
The lightning bolt blond beside him - Kaminari Denki - is the bassist of the group. He’s loud, kinda wild, and a major party animal, which got a lot of people concerned that he might be into hard drugs – because nobody can be that 'up' all the time – +
but Eijirou’s pretty sure it’s just his personality.

Then there’s Sero Hanta, the drummer and Kaminari’s best friend. He’s another big party boy +
(cw; mention of marijuana use)

– which is unsurprising since he and Kaminari are almost literally inseparable - but he’s a little more subdued due to his excessive consumption and smoking of pot.
Jirou Kyouka and Yaoyorozu Momo are the guitarists and the only two band members openly dating, though some others have been suspected in the past.
Yaoyorozu doubles as the group’s stylist, and is kind of seen as their unofficial 'mom' due to the way she’s always seen taking care of everyone. She’s also the most level headed and rational member, and is usually the one to lead interviews when the other members get too rowdy.
Or in Bakugou’s case, starts cussing everyone out and threatening violence.

Jirou is the most multitalented member, but she’s so quiet and nervous that she rarely shows it off. Boy can she ever sing though.
She’s done a few duets with Bakugou over the years, and her voice is stunning. Fans are constantly begging for her to do more, or to sing a few lines for them when the group does meet and greets after their shows.
She and Bakugou were also rumored to be dating for a while, but they quickly put an end to that rumor when they both came out as gay. Bakugou, a little more volatilely than Jirou, of course.
The clip of him stealing the mic from the person interviewing him to scream about how much he 'loved dick' on national television, is still something people talk about.
The only two people Eijirou doesn’t recognize, or know by sight alone, are the bodyguard, who Kaminari introduces as Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu, and Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou’s personal manager. Both of whom are extremely nice, and Eijirou can’t wait to get to know better.
“And last, but certainly not least, you already know our good ol' Blasty.” Kaminari beams, shoving them towards each other. “He’s been suuuuper anxious all day waiting for you, haven’t you Blasty? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he’s got a -”
Eijirou isn’t exactly sure what happens next, or even why, but one second Bakugou’s turning the color of a cherry, and the next he’s out of his seat, launching himself at Kaminari for the second time in the few minutes he’s been here.
He quickly steps back, trying to give Tetsutetsu and the other band members the space they need to pull Bakugou off of Kaminari before he kills him.
“I won’t blame you if you decide to run now while they’re distracted.” Says a tired looking man with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he comes to stand beside him.
Eijirou chuckles nervously, not really sure who this guy is, or how he got in here. “Nah, I’m okay dude, I think I’ll stick around.”
The tired looking guy shrugs. “Suit yourself. I’m Aizawa Shouta, by the way. The band’s general manager. And you’re Kirishima, correct? The fan Bakugou hired to be his personal trainer?”
Oh. Oh… Aizawa. Yeah, he’s heard of him before. The elusive band manager everyone says is more brutal than even Bakugou. And right now, with the way he’s staring down at him, he’s starting to feel a lot like an ant under the sharp lens of a microscope.
“Uhh…yup, that’s me! I promise I’m more than qualified though uhhh Mr. Aizawa sir.”
Aizawa hums, seeming unconvinced. Or maybe he’s just uninterested. “Well, I’m sure you understand the…delicate nature of your position. And I trust that you read thoroughly through the contract I had sent over. Specifically, the parts pertaining digression.”
In all honesty, he didn’t read through it that thoroughly. He skimmed it, got the general gist of it, and signed. He signs stuff all the time on the internet without reading through it, so what’s so different about this situation?
The longer Mr. Aizawa stares at him though, he starts to think maybe he should’ve read more carefully. “Umm… yeah, of course I did, sir.” He lies.
Maybe Bakugou will be able to get him a copy of it later so he can read through it a little better. He seems like a decent enough guy that he would, right?
Unfortunately – or maybe he’s fortunate to get away from Mr. Aizawa - Eijirou doesn’t get much longer to dwell before they’re called to board their plane. So, he picks up his bag and quickly follows his new companions towards the gate.
“Hey, so, quick question dudes, why are we flying commercial? Don’t you guys have like a private plane or something?” Eijirou asks, looking back over the top of his seat once they’re all on board.
He’s next to Bakugou – thankfully – but Kaminari and Sero are behind them, and he can’t help but feel like maybe that was a bad seating choice.
They just seem really intent on pissing Bakugou off, and he’s hoping by engaging them in conversation, they won’t end up getting the whole group kicked off the plane when he inevitably blows up on them.
“Oh, Blasty doesn’t fly private. He doesn’t trust the planes, and he thinks it’s a waste of money. So, we all fly commercial. Right Blasty?” Kaminari taunts.

“Shaddup you idiots.” Bakugou grumbles as he takes out his headphones and reclines his seat back, getting himself comfortable.

“Quiet! All of you!” Aizawa tells them all firmly, which seems to be the only thing to really get Kaminari and Sero quiet. At least for the moment.
Eijirou frowns, turning back around to sit fully in his seat as he stares at Bakugou. “I don’t think you’re supposed to do that before takeoff, man.”

“It’s fine.” Bakugou tells him, which is pretty much the most he’s said to him since Eijirou got here to the airport.
It’s strange. They’ve talked so much in the weeks since they met – all through texts of course – and Bakugou talked a lot that first night they met, but now that he’s here in person again? Nothing.
Well…not nothing, but Bakugou’s definitely being distant and quiet and that’s just…not really how he saw this playing out. Maybe he’s not as happy about him accepting the offer to come train him as he thought he would be. Maybe he didn’t even mean it.
Or maybe Bakugou’s just realized in the past few weeks that he’s not a very interesting person and doesn’t want to waste any more time getting to know him.
“The fuck you pouting for, Shitty Hair.” Bakugou asks as he scowls at his phone screen.
“Oh, it’s nothing dude, don’t worry about it.” Eijirou tells him, forcing a smile. If he’s already bugging him, there’s no need to make that worse by burdening him with his unmanly worries.
Just because Bakugou hired him doesn’t necessarily mean he has to like him, or want to be friends, right? It’s fine. He’ll be fine.
~Bakugou’s POV~
Bakugou hates flying. He’s hated it ever since he was a kid, when his parents would haul him off on their various business trips around the world.
It just…doesn’t make a whole hell of a lot of sense to him why anyone would enjoy being shot through the air in a glorified tin can.
His therapist – he only saw that idiot a few times as a teenager – but he used to say it had to do with control, and the lack of it Bakugou felt he had entrusting himself and his life to someone else.
Someone who could be drunk, or tired, or otherwise impaired in some way like the pilot of the private jet that crashed near his home when he was a child.
And that mistrust of flying and of anyone else being in control of his possible death has followed him fully into adulthood, and right into this seat. Hence the attempt to relax and keep himself distracted until they’re safely on the ground again.
A feat that’s proving quite difficult with thing one and thing two's constant jackassing around behind him.

Maybe next time he should insist they fly economy with Deku…
Kirishima, on the other hand, is less annoying than he thought he’d be. Yes, it was his choice to sit next to him, but only because Aizawa told him he had to. As a rule, to avoid sitting next to some random, Bakugou always buys two seats when he flies. His and the one next to him
But by the time he hired Kirishima, the flight was already fully booked, so it was either give him the extra seat and allow him sit next to him, or put him on a different plane. And Bakugou may be an asshole, but he’s not a big enough asshole to make someone fly alone.
Now, a few hours into their trip…Bakugou still hasn’t come to regret that decision. Mostly because Kirishima has spent the majority of those hours asleep. He’s started to snore a few times but all it’s taken to stop him was –
Suddenly, the plane jolts; starting to rumble and rattle and shake as they hit a pocket of turbulence. It’s normal, Bakugou knows that. He hates flying, but he’s been on a lot of planes. This happens all the time.
But something about this time in particular – maybe just because it’s a little rougher than usual – really has him freaked out.
He hears the fasten seatbelt signal come on and one of the flight attendants telling everyone it’s all fine as he grips the armrests of his seat and squeezes his eyes shut, willing the shaking to hurry the fuck up and stop.
Everyone else is asleep. It’s fine. They won’t see his momentary weakness. They won’t know that in his head he’s just seeing the burning wreckage of that private jet from his childhood over and over on a loop. It’s fine.
In total, the whole ordeal probably only lasts twenty or thirty seconds at most, but to him, it feels like an eternity has passed by the time the plane has finally stopped shaking.
He lets out a heavy exhale, slowly reopening his eyes when he hears the pilot’s voice over the speaker system apologizing for the rough ride. It’s over. He made it.

“You okay dude?”
Bakugou’s head whips in Kirishima’s direction, forgetting for a split second that they were sitting next to each other. Fuck! Did he see? And then he looks down. Down at his hand still gripping the armrest. Only…it’s not the armrest he’s holding into; it’s Kirishima’s hand.
Bakugou yanks his hand away like he’s been burned. Fuck! Fuck! SHIT! “Why the hell is your hand on my armrest?!” he snaps, reacting in his panicked state without much thought.
Kirishima yawns, rubbing the sleep from his eyes; still dazed from having been woken by Bakugou’s tirade. “It’s between us, man, it’s both of our armrests.”
“No, it’s fucking not! It’s mine!” Bakugou snaps, still freaking out over the fact that he was holding Kirishima’s hand and trying to find any reason he can to make it not his fault.
It was though. Deep down he knows it was just a mistake, and the armrest between them is wide, so Kirishima’s right, it belongs to both of them. But if he admits that, then he has to admit that he was scared of the turbulence, and that he grabbed the redhead’s hand as a reflex.
And there’s no fucking way he’s doing that.
“Okay, well then I’m sorry about that, dude. I’ll keep my arms over here.” Kirishima says, folding them in his lap. He looks embarrassed, definitely, and Bakugou maybe feels a tiny bit bad about that, but not bad enough to take any of what he said back.
“Is everything alright over here?” asks one of the flight attendants as he comes to check on them.
He clearly heard their…disagreement, and doesn’t want the other passengers to be disturbed – not that they should be if they just mind their own fucking business – but before Bakugou can tell him to fuck off, Kirishima beats him to it.
“We’re all good, sir. Just a little misunderstanding. I got a bit freaked out by the shaking and I accidentally grabbed his hand.” Kirishima explains.
It’s obviously a lie – Bakugou’s the one who grabbed his hand, not the other way around – and quite honestly…he’s not sure how he feels about that. About the fact that this guy who barely knows him just lied for him to save face.
The flight attendant leaves though, satisfied with not having to break up a fight between two passengers himself, before Bakugou has a chance to make up his mind.
“Why the hell did you lie for me?” Bakugou scowls. There’s no bite in his words. Just gruff curiosity.

Kirishima shrugs. “Because it was the manly thing to do.” He explains, like that should make all the sense in the world.
It doesn’t though, obviously. Because Bakugou can’t quite figure out what the fuck being manly has to do with lying. “You saying I’m not a man?”
“No, no, not at all. That’s not what manliness means to me, bro. It’s a about living with no regrets and a courageous heart.”
Bakugou stares at him, still just as confused as he was before. Who the hell failed this guy so hard in school that he doesn’t know that definitions of words don’t just get to change because you want them to?
Maybe he should’ve done a background check before hiring him. Yeah, he’s hot, but is the hotness worth the fact that he might actually be a little nuts?
~Kirishima’s POV~
When they finally land and they’ve gotten to their hotel that night…or is it the next night? Or the previous one? Whatever, Eijirou’s not really sure about how the whole date/time change mess works, but it’s still dark.
Like somehow, they chased the night sky clear across the globe.

And despite having slept a lot on the plane, he’s still pretty jet lagged. Enough that the sight of his bed when he finally makes it up to his room has him dropping all of his bags just to toss himself into it.
This is a really nice hotel room. Soft blankets…fluffy pillows…it must’ve cost a fortune to have them all staying here. But whoever’s paying, he’s glad he ended up with a single room. Especially after all that bickering on the plane.
In pictures and videos, everyone always seemed to get along really well. But seeing them all in person…that doesn’t actually seem to be the case. They have clicks.
The staff all kind of stick together – except for Mr. Aizawa, he just seems to stay on his own – Momo and Jirou are always together, and Kaminari and Sero are the same way.
And then there’s Bakugou, of course. Bakugou who seems just intent as Aizawa to be left entirely alone.
There’s a bit of comingling every now and then, - usually to break up fights, or talk music - but for the most part none of them seem all that interested in being with one another. It’s…odd. And definitely not the dynamic Eijirou would’ve assumed to find, but it is what it is.
It’s not like seeing any of this makes him like the band any less. It’s just…giving him a unique perspective, that’s all. One he definitely never would’ve gotten from the outside looking in.
//I should order dinner…// he decides, hearing his stomach grumble as he lays sprawled out on his bed. Pizza. He could really go for a good meat lovers pizza right now. And he should be able to get it delivered right to his room. But where should he order from?
While he’s searching online for a god place to eat, he hears a loud pounding on his door. Loud enough it nearly has him throwing his phone in surprise when it feels like the vibrations of it rumble through the walls.
But who…?

“Oi! Shitty Hair, you in there?”

Oh, Bakugou. Right.
He quickly gets up, straightening out his clothes and shoving his suitcases aside so he can open the door. “Hey dude, what’s –“ he abruptly cuts off, his eyes quickly drawn from Bakugou’s scowl right down to his bare chest.
He’s not wearing a shirt…he’s really not wearing a shirt…and all of his super manly muscles are showing, and his shorts are hanging really low on his hips, and, and, and…is he not wearing underwear?
It’s suddenly unbearably hot in his room. Or maybe that’s just the nearly cherry red color he’s sure his face has turned by now.
“Go get your trunks on, we’re going to the pool.” Bakugou tells him gruffly, shoving his hands into his pockets, and…yup, Eijirou’s pretty sure he just saw his dick move.
He’s gonna combust. Seriously. It’ll either be because his heart explodes, or Bakugou actually kills him for looking at him like this, but he’s certain he’s gonna die if he doesn’t close this door right now.
“The pool? Uh…yeah, sure, dude. Let me just grab my shorts and I’ll meet you down there.” He says, finally tearing his eyes from Bakugou’s crotch.
He’s literally never in his life heard his voice this high pitched before, but that’s probably because the man who has been the subject of his fantasies for years is now standing nearly naked at his door.
And quite honestly, he’s not sure he’ll survive any length of time in the pool with him without popping a boner at this point. Maybe he can quickly jerk off in the bathroom before going down to meet up with him? That could work, right? Just to take the edge off?
“Tch. I ain’t waiting in some stupid pool room for you, Hair for Brains I’ll just wait in here.” Bakugou says, pushing past him without even waiting for an invitation.

If Eijirou wasn’t sure he was gonna die before, he definitely is now.
“Yeah, sure man, make yourself comfortable.” he laughs, trying not to make to seem as uncomfortable as he feels. When Bakugou brushed past him, he got a little too close and now that issue that might’ve been a non-issue had he just closed the door, is definitely a problem.
He tries to readjust himself in his pants to make the half chub he’s now sporting as unnoticeable as possible, but that gets significantly harder when he watches Bakugou lay back on his bed and he very vividly imagines climbing on top of him.
Shit…this behavior is so unmanly. He’s not a teenager! He shouldn’t be this sensitive! He shouldn’t be this effected by someone just barely touching him in a completely non sexual way! Even someone as super manly as Bakugou.
Leaving the blond incarnation of a sex god on his bed, Eijirou quickly snatches his suitcase and darts into the bathroom to change. He’s so screwed. He can’t stop thinking about the way Bakugou looked out there. All muscles, scowling, rough…
And clearly, his dick can’t stop thinking about it either. God, he’s not even around Bakugou right now and he’s still hard as a board. And with him just on the other side of a very thin wall, there’s no way he’s gonna be able to jerk off in here without being found out.
“Shitty Hair, the fuck is taking you so long?”

“Uh…just a minute!” he says, fully aware his response makes very little sense and unable to care.
A shower. He could take a shower, right? That should help his…situation, and if he’s going in the pool, he should really get the gel out of his hair first. It’s rude and unmanly to introduce strange chemicals into the water.
The minute he turns the shower on though, he hears a knock on the door.

“Are you taking a fucking shower?”

Shit! “I gotta get the gel out of my hair, dude. I’ll be quick. I promise.”
“You don’t need to get the gel out. You aren’t getting your head wet, you’re just directing my workout, do hurry the fuck up! I ain’t got all night!”
He’s screwed. He’s so unbelievably screwed. Defeated, he turns the water off and digs his swim trunks out of his suitcase. Maybe if he’s lucky he can just tuck his dick into the waistband of his shorts and Bakugou won’t notice? They’re loose, so it could work. Maybe…
Looking in the mirror after he’s done though…no. No, it definitely does not work. It’s physically covered, but the outline is still clearly visible all the way to his hip where the head is creating an odd bump in the waistband of his shorts.

“Shitty Hair!”
Well, there’s no time to try any other ways to fix this mess now – not that he even knows any other ways – so this will just have to do. “Coming!” he calls, grabbing a towel to cover himself a little better before he opens the door to find Bakugou right there leaning against +
the opposite wall waiting for him.

“You ready now, Shitty Hair?” he asks.
Eijirou nods, swearing he sees the slightest hint of a smirk as Bakugou’s eyes flick down, pausing momentarily on the towel covering his crotch before heading towards the door. Does he know?
“Oh! I need my room key.”

“Already got it.” Bakugou tells him, pulling it from his pocket to show it off as he holds open the door. “After you.”
Eijirou pauses a moment, feeling the heat rush back his face again. This is definitely not the same guy from the plane. This is like the Bakugou he met the night he got offered this job.
He swallows hard as he steps out the door, keenly aware of Bakugou’s eyes on him as he follows him down the hall. He can’t really focus on that too much though. Not really.
Not now that they’re moving at a steady pace and the waistband of his shorts is causing steady friction against the head of his dick.

This was…definitely not his greatest idea.
By the time they reach the elevators, Eijirou feels like dying.
His face is burning beat red, he’s sweating, and his dick is practically screaming for more contact than it’s currently getting, because while it’s definitely enough friction to work here m up, it’s not quite enough to get him off.
“You okay, Shitty Hair?” Bakugou asks as they both step onto the elevator. He looks so relaxed. So calm. Eijirou would kill for some of that calm right now.
“Yup, totally cool man. Totally cool.” He says, hoping maybe he can fake having to pee and sneak into the bathroom to quickly rectify his…situation…when they get down to the pool before Bakugou notices.
But he swears he sees him smirk again as he turns to push the button to get them moving.

Oh shit…does he already know?!
Eijirou tries to look down without seeming too obvious, and…okay, maybe he didn’t do the best job at hiding his dick. He’s pretty sure Bakugou still wouldn’t be able to see it if he were standing across from him, but beside him?
The weeping head of his dick would be right there staring back.

So that means he knows, right? He’s been walking beside him the whole time and he’s standing right beside him now, smirking like a cat that just ate its families pet Canary. That can’t just be a coincidence.
But just in case it is, when the doors open up again, he lags behind a moment to tuck himself in a little better. There. That should work, right? And as he steps out of the elevator, yeah, definitely much better now.
His dick isn’t poking out anymore, there’s less friction, there’s less discomfort. This is much better. This he can survive with. He might even be able to forgo the whole sneaking into the bathroom to jerk off thing. He might even –
Eijirou suddenly stops dead in his tracks, his current train of thought disappearing completely the moment he feels his dick slip free. Oh no…
“You coming, Shitty Hair?”

Eijirou does his best to cover himself with the towel he brought, but…he’s not exactly a small guy, and the towel really doesn’t do enough that he can hide himself without it being painfully obvious what he’s trying to cover up.
And by the look on Bakugou’s face…if he could’ve denied his idol knew what was going on before, he definitely can’t now. Bakugou knows. He one hundred percent knows and Eijirou has never been more embarrassed in his life.
Not even that one time his mom walked in on him masturbating in high school.
“Uhh…yup, just give me a few minutes. You can just go ahead without me and I’ll meet you there.” He says, trying to look less embarrassed than he is while not so subtly looking for the nearest bathroom – he’ll even take a supply closet at this point – to dart into.
But of course, there’s nothing around. Nothing but the door to the pool down at the end of the hall. And Bakugou.
Bakugou who is the reason he’s in this situation in the first place, and who seems much keener on watching him suffer than leaving him to die from his embarrassment in peace.

He’s never wanted to vanish more in his life.
~Bakugou’s POV~
Bakugou’s having way too much fun with this. Way too much fun watching Eijirou squirm as he tries – and fails miserably – to hide is very obvious erection.
“I think I’m good right here, Shitty Hair.” Bakugou says, smirking as he watches the redhead’s discomfort grow. “But, you know, maybe I’d be even better if I was here.”
The color Eijirou turns rivals his hair as Bakugou steps up right in front of him, standing mere inches from his cock as the wet patch at the tip spreads. Seriously, who the fuck does he think he’s hiding that thing from? It’s not exactly small.
(cw; kinda dubcon, but not really? Kiri is 100% on board)

Eijirou gulps, taking a step back only for Bakugou to follow until he’s got him pressed up against the wall. He brackets him in with his arms, searching his crimson eyes for any sign that he’s not into this, +
but all he finds is need buried beneath the heavy layer of embarrassment written all over his face.
Good. He can work with that. “Looks like you’ve got a little problem there, Shitty Hair.” Bakugou teases, brushing his fingers over Eijirou’s still clothed cock and feeling it twitch against his thumb. Fuck he’s sensitive.
The redhead let’s out a little whimper in an attempt to suppress his moan; gripping his lower lip between his teeth so hard it draws a few drops of blood.
“So sensitive.” Bakugou tells him, leaning in even closer when he brushes against him again and feels Eijirou’s hips push forward into his touch. “What? This not enough for you, Shitty Hair?”
Slowly he shakes his head, seeming apprehensive to answer. Like he’s worried he’s gonna get yelled at for saying a few brushes against his dick aren’t enough to get him off.
But Bakugou just grins. “Then show me what you want.” He says, hooking his fingers just inside the waistband of the redhead’s shorts so there’s no confusion about what he means.
If it’s at all possible, Eijirou seems to get even redder. “Right here? Dude, we’re in the hall!” he says, in a very loud, shitty attempt at a whisper.

“Well, then I guess if you wanna refuse my offer, then –“
“No!” Eijirou half shouts, grabbing hold of his wrist when Bakugou starts to pull away. “I don’t want to refuse. I want…” he cuts off, deciding to use action instead.
He’s still apprehensive. Maybe even a little confused too. Probably wondering how they went from barely speaking on the plane to this, but Bakugou’s not about to take a break to explain the intricacies of his personality to someone he still +
barely knows in the middle of a hotel hallway at half past one in the morning, so he’s just gonna have to deal.

“Take what you want.” He repeats.
Eijirou slowly starts pulling his hand back in, dipping it below the waistband of his shorts to wrap Bakugou’s fist around his dick.

“The fuck are you waiting for, Shitty Hair?” He asks when the redhead stops there. “You think your dick is gonna jerk itself off?”
“You mean you –“

“I /told/ you to take what you want.”

Eijirou audibly gulps as he wraps his hand around Bakugou’s and gives a tentative thrust forward.
And then another, and another, and another, and by the time he’s worked up a steady pace of fucking himself into Bakugou’s fist, and trying to keep from moaning too loud, it takes him all of about thirty seconds to cum.
Bakugou frowns as Eijirou’s bodyweight slumps forward against him, his cock still giving a few little twitches in his fist as he rides out the last of his orgasm.
That was…fast for someone their age, wasn’t it? Way too fast even for someone as worked up as he seemed to be. So, either he’s got some underlying medical issues, or…
Oh fuck no.

“Shitty Hair, are you a fucking virgin?”
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