If this was how he'd known the day was going to go, Katsuki would have stayed in fucking bed.

"A sex club," he states flatly, staring at the Chief of Police, Aizawa from his chair at the table.

Most of the 1A squad officers had been gathered for an important announcement.
A panicked sex club owner had come to them, stating that he was concerned for the patrons of his business. Someone was drugging young men and taking them, only for those men to appear later disheveled and traumatised by whatever had happened to them while they were gone.
Claiming to have woken up in alleys or on park benches in the middle of the night, clothes and body damaged in ways that could never be fixed. So far it had only been three people, but he's hoping that the police can stop the body count from going any higher.
Before Aizawa can reply, a squeal is filling the air.

"Not just /A/ sex club," Mina calls out, her eyes bright and excited. "/THE/ sex club, Bakugou! A diamond among stones!"

He groans softly, scrubbing a hand across his face.

"Have some decorum, Ashido," Aizawa says tiredly.
"People are in danger here?"

She pouts but settles down, properly chastised.

"'The Shadown Room'," Sero reads from one of the files they had all been given, brows furrowed.

"Is the owner Tokoyami?" Denki jokes from his own seat.

Sero high fives him.
"We're gonna need a pair of you to infiltrate the club," Aizawa continues, ignoring Mina's muffled squeal of excitement, "and two pairs of you outside in some unmarked cars, just in case."

"Ooh, pick me! Me!" Mina yells out, waving a hand in the air. "I wanna do it! Pick me!"
"I did pick you...for car duty."

The speed at which Mina deflates is an immediate mood lifter.

"You, Ochako, Denki, and Sero are all on car duty," Aizawa continues, and Katsuki can't tell if he's imagining the sudden upturn of his lips.
"Nooooooooo," Mina whines, laying out on the table as Ochako halfheartedly pats her back. "I wanna go insiiiiiiiide..."

"Aw Meens," Ochako says with a grin, "it's gonna be okay. At least you'll have me!"

The pink haired woman huffs, but her cheeks are reddening.
"I /guess/ that's pretty damn awesome, too."

They're both looking away from each other, so neither can see the soft blushes and happy grin on the other's faces.

But everyone else can, and Kirishima makes some kind of cooing 'aw' noise that makes them both blush twice as hard.
"I've decided," Aizawa calls loudly over their titters, a vein popping in his forehead, "that the infiltration couple will be Kirishima and Bakugou."

Katsuki scowl immediately, and beside him Kirishima chokes on the water he had just taken a sip of.
"Kirishima is the bigger one of you two, so it makes sense that he'll be the Dominant, which means Bakugou will be the submissive," Aizawa continues while Kaminari muffles a loud guffaw into his arm, "and you'll be starting tonight, so better pull out your best fishnet shirt."
If Bakugou didn't need this job, he would have smacked him.

"Any questions?"

"Um, yeah, Bakugou, do you like handcuffs or silk scarves?" Sero just barely manages to get out right before the room dissolves into laughter.

"It's not going to work," He calls over their mirth.
"Why, because you prefer to play with chains?" Kaminari asked, him and Sero practically holding each other up.

Bakugou looks towards the heavens and kisses any kind of peace in his life goodbye.

"No. Because everyone in that club already knows me as a Dom. And I don't switch."
The sudden silence in the room us deafening, Kaminari's grin sliding off his face and hitting the floor with a wet 'splat'.

Katsuki ignores them and turns to Kirishima, who's staring at him with wide eyes and a blush that could probably be seen from space.
"If we're gonna do this, /you're/ going to be /my/ sub. Luckily for you, it's not uncommon for me to play with men."

He stands, grabbing the file off the table. It would probably be better to escape now while the shock was still fresh.

Before all the questions.
"I'll read up on this file, and I suggest you do, too. We'll meet at my house at six to discuss everything, and to get you prepared for what you might experience inside."

He's already at the door and opening it when he decides to throw one last comment over his shoulder.
"And by the way. I prefer to play with ropes."

He slams the door on the sudden uproar of noise.

Katsuki almost doesn't hear the knock at his front door, it's so faint. A kitten might as well have brushed up against it. The only reason he'd heard anything even /hinting/ at being a knock was because he'd been walking past the damn thing to get a beer from the fridge.
He wretches it open, and Kirishima jumps with a small squeak.

"Come in."

"P-pardon my intrusion..."

He rolls his eyes as Kirishima inches by, eyes looking everywhere but at him.

Fucking dumbass.

"Oi," he snaps, and Kirishima flinches.
"If you're gonna be weird about it, we don't have to do this."

"W-weird? Who's being weird? I'm not being weird. Nothing's weird!"

Katsuki raised a /highly/ skeptical eyebrow, staring so hard that the bigger man began to squirm in place.


"Yes, Sir?"
Katsuki straightened up in shock, and Kirishima clapped a hand over his mouth, a horribly red blush overtaking his entire face.


"...You're not scared," he drawls slowly, his narrowed eyes suddenly looking at the redhead in a new light.
"You're excited."

Kirishima made a strangled choking noise behind his hand, his wide eyes darting around the room frantically.

"You're /actually/ a Sub!"

"N-not full time!" Kirishima finally blurted out desperately, his hands twisting at the bottom of his shirt.
"I-I've only tried it out a few times back when we were in the academy!"

Katsuki was floored, staring up at Kirishima in shock.

"With who?!"

The redhead shrugs helplessly, still not meeting his eyes. "J-just some guy. He was nice, and it helped me during our final exams."
Well, how about fucking that?

Kirishima wasn't as vanilla as he'd always assumed.

This...could be interesting.

"C'mon. Let's go sit down so we can talk."

They make their way to the living room almost silently, Kirishima's feet landing heavily on the floor.
It's only once they're settled down that Katsuki speaks again.

"So. You're already knowledgeable about this kind of thing."

Kirishima frowns, his head cocking to the side contemplatively. "I mean, I /know/ some things. But I'm not knowledgeable."

"What /do/ you know?"
"I know my hard limits, and my safe words. And I know a couple of things that I like already."

"What do you like?"

Kirishima's swallow is thick and heavy, his hands tugging his shirt down as much as he could over his crotch.

"Be honest," Katsuki warns him firmly, his eyes trained on his every movement. "Because I'll know if you're lying, and I will not be happy."

Kirishima shivers, and Katsuki tucks that away inside of his mind for later.

"I-I um," the redhead starts, strangled, "like bondage?"
Heat flares hot and deep in his gut, and he has to forcefully beat it into submission so that he doesn't embarrass himself.

But fuck, the image of Kirishima tied up in some of his ropes...

He aggressively clears his throat, breaking his unwavering stare in favor of standing.
"I'm going to get a beer. Want one?"


He nods once before exiting the room, fanning his face with both hands as he grabs two bottles from the fridge.

God, what the fuck is the matter with him? He's been a Dom for 12 years, but Kirishima is making him blush?
Kirishima wears crocs as a fashion statement.

'Get your shit together', he mentally scolds himself as he heads back to the living room. 'Don't let him win!'

When he arrives, the first thing he notices is that Kirishima now has a throw pillow situated obviously over his crotch.
'Guess I'm not the only one affected.'

"Beer," he grunts, shoving the bottle into a large hand.


Katsuki allows them both time to take a few sips before he speaks.

"So. What else do you like?"

Kirishima hums softly, picking at the bottle label.
"Hmmm...well, I like it when my nipples are played with."

"Played with like hands or played with like clamps?"

"Ah! Um, j-just hands, please. Clamps are a little too painful for me."

Katsuki nods slowly, taking another sip of his beer. "Noted. What else?"
"I like following orders," Kirishima continues, relaxing bit by bit the more they continue to talk. "I like it when I'm being told that I'm good, but I also kind of like being told that I'm bad. I, um..."

Here he swallows thickly again, a blush slowly creeping back up his face.
"I-I like being called names. The nice one and...a-and the not so nice ones..."

Hoooooly fuck, this man is going to destroy his sanity.

"The not nice ones?" He asks, pretending like he doesn't know what the other is talking about.

Kirishima squirms.
"L-like, um...," he stutters softly, hands clenching tight in the pillow over his lap.


His head snaps up, ruby eyes clashing with crimson. Katsuki makes sure not to break eye contact as he take a slow sip of his drink.


Katsuki hums softly.

Kirishima is the first to break eye contact, his cheeks flushed and mouth open, panting softly as he grips the pillow in his lap tighter.


Almost as if he's seconds away from full on humping it regardless of wether Katsuki is in the room or not.
And to be honest, he would /love/ to see that happen.

'Focus', he commands himself, clearing his throat quickly. 'You're supposed to be working, not getting your dick wet.'

He ignored the small voice in his head screaming, 'Why not both?!'
"Have you even been to a sex club before?" He asks, veering off topic for both the sake of work and the sake of his sanity.

Kirishima shakes his head. "Never. When I played in the academy, it was mostly in one of our dorm rooms."

Katsuki nods slowly. "Ever been penetrated?"
Kirishima bites down on his bottom lip before slowly shaking his head.

Katsuki is surprised to say the least. "Not at all?!"

The red head shrugs one shoulder nervously. "W-well, i was never really comfortable with penetration. I was a um...a service top?"
Katsuki nods. That makes sense. A people pleasing guy like Kirishima wouldn't be satisfied with a role that only gave him pleasure. It would feel selfish to him.

"Okay. That's good, since I'm more into being fucked anyways."

Kirishima chokes.
"Well, as you know, I've been to this club before. And I can tell you right now, it's like nothing you've ever seen. There are a lot of things that can happen in a club like that."

"Like what?"

"Well, for one, it's a /sex/ club. So there's sex happening all over."
Kirishima blinks owlishly. "L-like in the rooms?"

Poor, sweet summer child.

"No. Like in the middle of the floor."

The other man gapes, scandalized.

"People will be naked. Fucking on full display of everyone in the room. Kissing, touching, rubbing for everyone to see."

Katsuki grunts, taking another swig of his now warm beer.

"A-are we gonna do that?"

He pauses, glancing up.

Kirishima is staring at him in a way that he's never seen before. His eyes bright and focused, lips parted as he pants ever so softly.
He wants it.


Katsuki swallows, this time breaking their gazes first.

"No. We aren't required to. We'll walk a few times around the club. Maybe make a few acquaintances. That should be enough."

He can feel Kirishima's disappointment from across the room.
"But you'll have to be collared."


"And leashed."

He sputters, his face a scorching red. "But why?"

"It's something I demand of all my subs," he replies, placing his beer on the table. "And everyone there knows it."


His mouth snaps shut with an audible click, eyes going wide.

Katsuki's voice is firm, authoritative.


"I am not asking you. I am /telling/ you. You /will/ wear my collar."

A thick, heavy click of a throat fills the air, followed by a shaky whisper.

"Yes, Sir."
"Good boy."

Kirishima gasps, breathy with pleasure, and Katsuki has to swallow a smirk.

"What's your safe word?"

"I-I can use the stop light system, but my personal safe word is unmanly," he shaking replies, his breathing a little bit faster than the norm.
"Hard limits?"

"No blood, or knives. And no um, bodily fluids besides the normal sex ones."

"Damn, there go all my plans," the blond responds sarcastically.
Kirishima snorts inelegantly, and Katsuki permits him one of his own rare grins before he gets serious again.

"Seriously though, Kirishima, if we're going to do this, I need you to be able to speak up if anything happens that you don't like."
Kirishima sobers as well, noting the serious in his voice.

"This is a sex club, full of sexual people. They won't do anything too out there, but I have no doubt that you'll be touched in some kind of way while you're there and it won't just be by me."
"I-I know. I'm not exactly blind to the looks I get on the street," Kirishima says with a dry laugh. "But I'm not really scared. And I trust you."

His breath catches in his throat suddenly, eyes going wide.

"Y-you do?"

The bigger man looks up, surprised.
"Of course I do. You're my best friend. I trust you with my life, Bakugou. Trusting you with my body isn't that far of a leap."

Katsuki is floored, and deeply humbled. He'd never known that Kirishima had such a high opinion of him.

"Thank you...that means a lot."
Kirishima smiles at him, bright and blinding, and Katsuki quickly changes the subject, his heart leaping in his chest.

"N-now let's talk about what you're going to wear."

"Ah! Don't even worry about it. I already have my best crocs laid out for tonight."
And just like that all of his lust crashes and burns in the fiery flames of hell.

"If you put a single /toe/ in a croc tonight, I'm gonna chop your foot off."

"Crocs are cool!"


Kirishima pouts at him and Katsuki sighs, quickly standing.
"Get the fuck up. We're going shopping."

"But I already have clothes!"

He slams both hands on the wall on either side of that idiot head, ignoring his shocked gasp as he gets in his face.

"You are not. Going to wear crocs to the sex club," he snarls dangerously.
"You are going to get the fuck up, go to the car, and we are going to get you /new/ clothes and /new/ shoes, or I'm gonna make you go naked."

Kirishima whimpers softly, his eyes wide and locked on his own.

"Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Sir."
He stares into those bright eyes for a little longer before letting his gaze drop, almost unconsciously, to slightly parted lips, shiny with a sheen of spit.

'He's been licking them', he thinks, staring at them hungrily. 'They're shiny because he's been licking them.'
And indeed, that soft pink tongue that Katsuki can just barely see behind sharp teeth comes out once more as if summoned, swiping quickly over full, pink lips before disappearing again.

Katsuki wants desperately to follow it with his own.
It's so close...

He breathes out, heavy and slow, the air from his mouth caressing Kirishima's lips and the red head moans, soft and shaky, his hips pushed up urgently against his throw pillow.

He could do it...

But he won't.

At least not now.
He stands abruptly, making Kirishima flinch with surprise.

"Store," he grunts, his voice deep and rough with need.

"Y-yeah. Okay."

"I'll meet you in the car. Be sure to grab my keys and lock up."

He leaves without looking back, and is in the car within minutes.
Kirishima joins him a few minutes later, and if his face is a little more flushed than it needs to be and the bottom of his shirt is suspiciously wet like he was trying to quickly wash away something that shouldn't have been there, well...

Katsuki doesn't call him on it.

Kirishima is...a little weary of the entirely black brick building with no front door that they pull up in front of, but Bakugou almost looks to be at home, his movements confident and self assured as he steps from the car.

"C'mon, Shitty Hair!"

The blond leads him down a...surprisingly clean alley way to a giant metal door, where he uses some kind of code knock that seems to echo through the space around them. It seems like only seconds pass before a soft, accented voice answers them.


"Open the fuck up."
"Ah, Monsieur Bakugou, as charming as ever," the voice drawls, suddenly dry and sarcastic even as the door creaks open.

The man behind the door is unreasonably beautiful. Soft blond hair hanging from his shoulders, of which a feather boa is wrapped around.
He's wearing a purple corset and leggings, and his feet are encased in 8 inch heels. The thick ones, not the skinny ones.

But what amazing Kirishima the most is the way he sparkles.

He's absolutely /covered/ in glitter, and his corset and leggings are done up with rhinestones.
If he stepped into the sun, the world would probably go blind.

"Long time no see, Glitter Boy. I see that your as bright as ever," Bakugou says wryly, but the twitch at the corner of his lips says that he's more amused than annoyed.

The smaller blond shrugs, grinning widely.
"Well, cherí, one cannot simply stop twinkling because you haven't been around. I have a reputation to hold up after all."

"Your reputation for blinding the innocent?"

"Among other things," the other replies, his grin going dark and hungry in a way that makes Kirishima swallow.
Which, of course, causes both blonds to suddenly turn to him with equally piercing eyes.

One, a bright, crimson red.

The other, a bright, ocean blue.

Combined they make him feel small, and insignificant.

It makes his dick twitch, to be honest.
"Oh? Un nouveau visage. And such a terribly handsome one, too," the blond purrs, suddenly all batting lashes and coyish grins that make Kirishima blush violently.

"Back off, you rhinestone harpy," Katsuki snaps, shoving him back through the doorway. "He's with me."
The man tsks softly, pulling a Japanese fan from out of /fucking nowhere/ to wave in front of his face. "Une tragédie. What I wouldn't give to put a man like that on his knees..."

Kirishima shudders, his throat clicking loudly.

"You literally have a man like this."
The grin that the smaller blond flashes behind his fan is /dangerous/.

"Don't worry. I'm more than willing to put him on his knees as well."

Holy FUCK-

"Fucking slut," Bakugou cackles, his voice amused and somewhat fond.

The blond bows.

Bakugou snorts one more time before finally turning towards him. "Kirishima, this is Yuuga Aoyama. Alias, Glitter Boy. He's pretty popular in the sex club world. Glitter Boy, this is my new sub, Kirishima Eijirou."

"Enchanté," Aoyama murmurs, holding out a hand.
Kirishima is quick to grab it with a small bow, his lips meeting the incredibly soft skin of the back of his hand for the briefest of seconds.

"Également," he murmurs back, his eyes to the floor, which means he misses Aoyama's pleased grin and Bakugou's shocked gape.
"Ooh, such a gentleman," he purrs as Kirishima straightens up again, his eyes still trained on the floor. "Where did you learn, cherí?"

"My grand-mère on my mama's side," Kirishima replies, smiling softly. "She was from Paris, and taught me all that she could before she passed."
"And after that, I learned on my own. Technically, it's my first language."

"Handsome, gentlemanly, /and/ bilingual. Zero, are you sure I can't borrow him for just a night?" Aoyama asks, delicate fingers slipping just underneath his t-shirt, making his gasp.
A quick smack on the hand from Bakugou puts a stop to that.

"We...can talk about it," he says, tucking the red head's shirt into his pants firmly. "/Later/. For now, I need an outfit for him to wear to the Shadow Room tonight."

Aoyama's eyes spark with excitement.
Just as quickly as they spark with concern.

"The Shadow Room? Are you sure? You haven't been back since-!"

"Hush!" Bakugou snaps, fixing him with a glare.

The quiet is deafening.

"I know, and I'll deal with it later," he continues quietly. "But for now, he needs an outfit."
Aoyama stares at the other blond for a little longer before his spine snaps straight, and the air about him changes. He oozes professionalism from his very pores, and Bakugou nods to him gratefully.

"Well then, follow me. Not a moment to be lost," he trills, fan waving freely.
And Kirishima wants to ask so badly, but the tight set of Bakugou's shoulders tell him that his concern probably won't be received well. At least right now. So he sucks in a deep breath and expels it slowly before following his Dom behind beaded curtains.

"Mon cherí! We have customers," Aoyama calls out, his heels clicking on the linoleum floors as he heads to the front of the store.

If you could call it that!

Kirishima stares at the rows of sex memorabilia lining the walls of the shop.


Sex tapes.




There was an /entire half a wall/, lined top to bottom with various kinds of lubricant.

And the room was /filled/ with clothes.

Racks, like you would see in a normal department store, stuffed to bursting with clothing.
But not just any clothing, of course. No, these were /sex clothes/. Aoyama had everything. From the cheap, dollar store lingerie in the front, to the sturdier, leather pants and hooked corsets in the back.

Kirishima is blushing again, staring at everything with wide eyes.
It's tastefully decorated. None of those neon lights and "18+ Only" signs lined the walls. In fact, there were red and white fairy lights strung throughout the whole room, as well as a few candles in safe and contained spaces.
And there were various colored rhinestones decorating the ceilings and walls, making them sparkle like stars on a clear, summer night.

Honestly, it was like some kind of fantasy fairy world.

...If fantasy fairy worlds were full of knotting dildos and porn.
"Found him," Aoyama calls, weaving through the racks while pulling someone behind him on a purple glitter leash.

Kirishima swallows. He can't wait to be on a leash.

"Kirishima, meet /my/ submissive, Iida Tenya," Aoyama says with a smile and a soft yank of the leash in his hand.
He's fucking big, first of all.

He towers over Aoyama and Bakugou by a good two feet, and over Kirishima by maybe a few inches. His chest is bare, showing off a small, curling tattoo on his hip, and his legs are wrapped in silky looking pajama pants. His feet are bare.
His hair is styled in some sort of messy undercut that makes the cut of his jaw look sharp enough to kill a bitch, and a pair of bright blue eyes rest behind a pair of very fashionable glasses.

All in all, Aoyama's sub is goddamn hot.

"Tenya, sweetheart, you remember Zero."
The big man /blushes/, his eyes trained on the floor as he shifts on his feet. "A-ah, yes. Hello, Zero-san."

Bakugou hums, slim fingers skating across the larger man's bare torso. "Don't be like that, Tenya. We've played one too many times for you to still be shy around me..."
The shiver that passes through the man's body is noticeable.

"Yes, Zero-san..."

"Good boy," the blond purrs, and Iida preens subtly.

Kirishima with an indescribable, burning jealously.

He's supposed to be Bakugou's good boy.
And then he mentally smacks himself, because what the fuck. This was just for work.

He wasn't Bakugou's anything.

Not officially.

"Tenya, mon cherí, we need an outfit for Zero's new sub," Aoyama says, cutting through Kirishima's spiraling thoughts.
Iida startles, having almost forgotten the newcomer standing to the side, and then Kirishima is pinned with bright, calculating eyes. They make him feel small, but in the way that he's come to recognize as wanting to submit.

Was Iida a switch or something??
Kirishima swallows, standing a little straighter as he fights to hold the man's gaze.

Like fuck, is he gonna lose in front of his Dom.



Not his Dom.


"And what were you searching for this evening?" Iida asks, his voice smooth and deep.
Katsuki hums, circling Kirishima's body slowly, red critical eyes looking over every inch of him.

"Nothing too out of the box," he finally states, one hand to his chin thoughtfully. "It'll be his first time at a sex club, so I don't wanna overwhelm him."
"Might I suggest something leather?" Aoyama says from the sidelines, his eyes roving Kirishima's body just as eagerly. "I am more than positive that his ass would look magnifique in a good pair of leather pants."

The redhead flushes, staring harder at the floor.
A rough hand cupping his ass makes him gasp a second later, his body arching forward involuntarily.

"I agree," Katsuki purrs, his voice like dark silk. It makes Kirishima whimper shakily, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "Let's get him fitted."

"Of course," Aoyama answers, as if he's ridiculous for thinking otherwise. "Everything that I sell is tweaked and hemmed for the best fit. I don't just sell you something off the rack. I make sure it fits."

"That's incredible," Kirishima breathes.
"Oui. I am ridiculously amazing," Aoyama says proudly with a flip of his hair. "Now, this way to the dressing room, mon cherí. I need you to strip down to your boxers and then step onto the podium in front of the mirrors. Of course, you're always welcome to strip here, as well."
It's said as a joke, but Kirishima shrugs, already lifting his shirt over his head. No reason to get naked behind a curtain if everyone is gonna see everything anyways when he gets onto the podium.

It's only when he starts to unzip his jeans that he notices the sudden quiet.
He looks up and freezes, blushing horribly as he sees that every pair eyes in the room is looking at him hungrily.

"And you're sure that you don't want to share him? Just for a few minutes," Aoyama breathes a little desperately, his fan moving rapidly to cool his flushed face.
"Later," Katsuki mumbles, but its soft, distracted as his eyes look over his exposed body in a way that makes his dick go from soft to half hard immediately.


"Don't stop for us," Aoyama calls.
Kirishima swallows and looks away, his suddenly shaking hands shoving his jeans down and off, until his standing in front of the other three men in just his socks and black boxer briefs, which do /very little/ to hide the fact that his dick is now half hard.
Then again, it would probably be a little easier if his boxers were made of, like, /any/ kind of real fabric.

Aoyama makes some kind if dying noise behind Bakugou, and even Iida looks a little more flushed than before.

"Kirishima, holy /fuck/," Katsuki growls lowly.
They're black yes, but lacy. A soft fabric that feels nice rubbing across the skin of his dick, and makes him feel a little fancy while roaming around in them at home.

Wearing them for Bakugou had been spur of the moment thing, for courage rather than expectations of sexy times.
"S-sorry," he mumbles shyly, one arm unconsciously drifting down to cover the obscene way the lace stretches across his dick. "Didn't think I would be stripping for anyone today."

"Oh, trust me, it's more than fine," Aoyama murmurs.
Katsuki isn't speaking, but the heat in his eyes as he stares is saying more than words could.

Two loud claps break their staring contest.

"Okay! Time isn't going to stop because of a pretty man in sexy undies," Aoyama calls, gesturing to the podium. "Up you go, mon cherí."
He walks across the cold floor as the blond turns to Iida, who is already holding at least five pairs of leather pants, which Kirishima does not remember him leaving to get, how the fuck did he do that?

"Make 'em tight, 'Yama," Bakugou calls.

"I wouldn't dream of not."
Katsuki is gonna have a fucking breakdown.

The underwear is bad enough.

But the entire /package/ is what's gonna kill him.

Kirishima is big. He knows. He's been known for years. But Katsuki has never really /looked/ at him.

And goddamn, is he looking now.
Kirishima's hair is down, first of all. Katsuki's never seen it down, except today at his front door. And it was fine. It was just hair.

But /now/, brushing across tanned shoulders as bangs drop in front of shy, ruby red eyes, it's that much hotter.
Second of all, Kirishima has nipple rings??

Yeah, he gasped, too.

Two rings are pierced through brown nipples, hard in the coolness of Aoyama's store. They're silver metal, with a little ball holding the ring together.

'No wonder he wouldn't be able to handle clamps.'
And third of all...

Katsuki has to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop an obscene noise as Kirishima steps into better lighting.

He's /hairy/.

Not obnoxiously so, just enough for someone to notice should they have the right circumstances to do so.
Trailing lightly from his shoulders to his elbow, and from there becoming darker, more pronounced.

He also has a happy trail that leads from light, barely there hair to dark thickness right into his boxers, where heaven awaits.

Katsuki has to swallow his drool.
And finally, the cherry on top.

The tattoo.

Some sort of winding, tribal band around the upper part of his right arm. It's about four inches wide, and indescribably beautiful in it's intricacy.

Katsuki wants to trace each dip and curve of the blank ink with his tongue.
Aoyama is fanning himself faster than ever before, blond hair flying back in the manmade wind as he gestures to the podium in the middle of the floor.

Kirishima shyly pushes his hair back over one ear as he steps up, and Katsuki has to mentally beat down an erection.
A black metal hoop is pierced through his left ear.


That seems to be the last straw for Aoyama too, and he closes the fan with a sharp snap that makes everyone jump.

"Right then! Mon cherí, you're more than capable of measuring him, oui?"
Iida nods, briefly direction his gaze to the floor as he's addressed by his Dom.

"Merveilleux! Katsuki, let's go back and see what we can find for your Eijirou this evening."

"Wait, but you already have pants right here," Kirishima says, confusion written across his face.
"And I can tell right now that they are too plain for a first night on the floor," Aoyama says swiftly, already turning to the second set of beaded curtains in the room. "This way, Zero! Let's make Your Eijirou shine!"

"I'm coming, you sparkly fuck," he grumbles.
He spares the two subs in the room one last glance, one standing awkwardly on a podium, and the other reaching for the measuring tape hanging from the racks, before ducking into the other room.

Trying desperately to stop the words "Your Eijirou" from echoing through his head.
Kirishima physically feels himself let out a breath of relief when those piercing red eyes disappear through the doorway. He feels...on edge when Katsuki watches him.

Like he's prey.

And goddamn, does he want to be hunted.

"Arms up and out, please," Iida murmurs behind him.
And like, not to be flaky, but goddamn, that voice...

"Arms," Iida snaps, and Kirishima's fly up. "Thank you."

He inhales shakily, a little shocked by the sudden force in his tone. "N-no problem, bro."

"Hold this, please. As straight as you can."
He takes the bit of tape poking at his fingers, and then Iida is dragging it across the width of his arms, fingertip to fingertip.

"Drop them."

He's quick to obey this time, staring warily as Iida jots the numbers down in a small notebook.

He doesn't exactly know where to go with this, but the complete silence is eating him alive.

What kind of store doesn't have music??

"Arms in the air."

He lifts, and Iida steps in close, winding both thick arms around his waist and pulling the tape through.
And he smells /good/.

Like, not normal good, where you sniff and think, 'Oh, that's nice.'.

No, he smells like /sin/. Like fresh mountain rain and the sky and for some reason motor oil, which makes Kirishima think of wrestling matches, Iida holding him down until he submits.
He swallows thickly, and suddenly, he's looking into burning eyes.


They stand there for who knows how long, red looking into blue, before Iida finally breaks the stare with a firm shake of his head.

"Please keep your noises to yourself," he says softly.

"Spread your legs."

And really, that's just disrespectful. How is he supposed to keep his noises to himself when Iida sounds like that? And is saying those kinds of things?

"Are you a switch?" He blurts out suddenly, just for anything to say to break the sudden tension.
Iida pauses where he's starting to crouch to measure his legs, his blue eyes flying up, and Kirishima immediately looks away, laughing nervously.

"B-because it feels kind of tense in here? L-like something could go down at any moment, with just you and me here."

"N-not that something will go down," he babbles, trying to talk his thoughts into nothing as the softest brush of fingers begin to travel up the inseam of his left leg to take his measurements. "The air just feels charged somehow?? Maybe it's just me. Ha! Haha!"
Iida hums as he writes down the notes for the left leg before reaching for the measuring tape again. "Well, it's probably just the day that you're having. You're in a sex shop, shopping for sex clothes, with your sex partner, to go to a sex club."
Kirishima nods with each point, his brow furrowing as he listens.

"You probably just feel a little overwhelmed by everything, and now your body is /expecting/ something, which is making you feel that everything is, how your say, 'tense and charged up' despite nothing happening".

How well put.

"But, to answer your question..."

Kirishima gasps as a large hand grasps his inner thigh, squeezing it in a way that it should only be squeezed in the bedroom as Iida's voice goes from friendly and educational to dark and lustful within seconds.
"Yes, I am a switch."

The sudden switch (ha ha) makes his head spin, and he moans shakily as his thigh is massaged firmly by the warmth of Iida's palm, his dick jumping behind lace briefs.

"You're very soft here, did you know that, Kirishima?" He asks in a low, rough voice.
Kirishima shudders, his legs almost crumpling underneath him as Iida's hand travels just a little bit higher. "U-um, thank you?"

The hand is now moving, I repeat, the hand is now moving-!

He gasps as it slides up, just barely grazing his now rock hard dick, to rest on his hip.
"And you're very pretty," he murmurs, licking his lips as his eyes drop down to his own.

"B-bro, you're being a little /too/ forward," Kirishima says with a nervous laugh as he tries to ease back.

"Sorry...just trying to get something that I want."
The sudden click of heels registers too late for his frazzled brain.

"Mon Dieu!"

"What the /fuck/?!"

Kirishima yelps as he's yanked off the platform, swung around until he's facing Katsuki and his angry snarl. And behind his back, Aoyama is wrapping a hand around Iida's leash.
He yanks it with a strength that Kirishima would /never/ pair with his thin frame, sending the bigger man crashing to his hands and knees with a hiss.

"Iida Tenya, you will /explain/ yourself," he snarls, all traces of a playful young shop owner erased in the face of his anger.
He sounds livid, projecting his Dom voice in a way that makes Iida shudder, and that's all the redhead sees before a harsh hand shoves him to his own knees painfully.


He freezes, his heart pounding in his chest as his eyes snap to the floor.
Katsuki sounds exactly the same, but where with Aoyama he just hears it, with Katsuki he /feels/ it. Deep in his bones.

That's /his/ Dom.

"It's not his fault," Iida says quickly, before he has a chance to open his mouth and stick his foot in it.
"It's mine! I wanted you to see us like that, so I purposely became...appealing to Kirishima's inner sub."

Kirishima feels a short stab of betrayal because, wow, rude?

"And why, pray tell, would you do that?" Aoyama asks him, his voice cold, but curious.
Iida is silent.

The entire room, in fact, is silent up until Katsuki scoffs loudly.

"Of course. I should have known."

As soon as Katsuki speaks, Aoyama's eyes light up with understanding, and he flicks his fan open to hide a small smirk.

"Ah. I see. Châtiment."

The word alone steals his breath, and makes his heart pound.


A sub's greatest fantasy...or worst nightmare.

"I can't believe you still play petty tricks so that Sparkle Nuts will tie you up and smack you around for a couple hours," Katsuki tsks softly.
Aoyama huffs, flicking his blond hair. "So brash. I do more than 'smack him around', as you so crudely put it."

"I remember," Katsuki replies, and the two men share a brief, wicked grin before Aoyama turns back to Iida, yanking on the leash in his hand until he's standing again.
"Very well, mon cherí. If it's punishment you would like, then it's punishment you shall receive. De retour un peu, messieurs!"

He disappears once again behind the curtain, dragging Iida with him and leaving Katsuki and Kirishima alone in the middle of the sex shop.
Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.

Kirishima jumps when Katsuki threads thin fingers into his hair, gently pulling until he's meeting the other's eyes.

"Sorry," he blurts before he can even speak.

"Don't be," Katsuki replies with a soft snort.
"Iida is a cunning son of a bitch, and you're still a baby sub, so I'm not surprised that he took advantage of you."

Kirishima puffs out his cheeks a little angrily.

Baby sub??

"But while we're on the subject, let's lay down another ground rule."

The sudden yank at his hair makes him yelp, his nails digging into rough denim as he's forced to meet blazing crimson eyes.

"If you /ever/," he whispers, his lips curled in a fierce sneer, "let someone else touch you like that again that isn't me, I am going to break you."
Kirishima shudders, his eyes wide and focused on Katsuki's own.

"No one but me is allowed to touch you like that unless I say otherwise, and if you /let/ them, next time I won't be as nice as I was this time. Do you understand me, Eijirou?"
"Yes, sir..."

"Good boy," he purrs, and Kirishima goes limp against him, whimpering as his insides go soft.

It's been a /long/ time since he's been called a good boy.

"I'm back," Aoyama calls, appearing with a flourish and a slight sprinkle of glitter. "Let us begin!"
Katsuki hums, and then Kirishima is being helped to stand in shaky legs.


"Yes, of course, begin your fitting," he replies, dragging over a chair filled with leather pants. "Iida took measurements, yes, but /I/ do the actual sizing and hemming."
"Oh. I-is Iida coming back?"

"I'm afraid not, mon cherí," he says with a bright smile. "He's become a bit tied up at the moment, and just can't seem to get away."

Katsuki coughs behind him, and he flushes bright red.


"But enough small talk," the blond says with a clap.
"You have a ball to attend, Cinderella, and unfortunately, gowns don't just appear with glitter and a song. Up you go!"

It takes two hours to finish everything, and another one to make sure the pants fit correctly, with Aoyama slipping out of the room every now and again.
But eventually, they're all set and leaving the shop with smiles and waves all around (or in Katsuki's case, frowns and curses).

"See you next time, un bel homme," Aoyama calls, dramatically waving a handkerchief.

"Au revoir!" Kirishima calls back, grinning
Katsuki is ignoring them both, walking to the car with a satin lined box in his hands which he gently places in the backseat as Kirishima slips into the front.

"He's really nice," he says happily as they drive away.

"Only outside of the bedroom," Katsuki replies.
Kirishima thinks of Iida, and how he didn't see him for the rest of the three hours they were there fitting him for his pants before deciding to silently agree.

Aoyama hums to himself as he locks up for the night, slowly walking through the shop to make sure that every light was off and every dildo was in its place before making his way up the stairs.

Some tea would be lovely right about now, after all that hard work.
Luckily, there's already a fresh pot of water on the stove that he'd put on earlier for exactly this moment.

He hums to himself as he shakes a few tea leaves into the strainer, listening to the soft sounds from just down the hall.

It makes him smile.
It takes a few minutes for the tea leaves to seep to perfection, so he waits, standing on somewhat tired heeled feet as he mindlessly turns the knob in his hands on and off, up and down, listening to those noises rise and fall with each twist of his fingers.

Ah! Tea's done!
The smell of mint and lavender is soothing to his sensitive nose, and he takes a small sip as he heads to the bedroom he and Iida share.

He smiles as he pushes open the door, already knowing what he's going to find.

"Comfortable, Mon Cherí?"
Bright, almost crazed blue eyes swing toward him accusingly.

"You've always looked so good in my ropes," he murmurs, dragging his fingers through the sticky wet sheen of sweat glistening on that tanned chest.

Iida grunts animalistically, yanking roughly at his bonds.
"Ah, ah, pet," Aoyama reprimands him with a sharp smack to his nipple that has him arching into the air with a muffled cry. "You wanted your punishment, so take it."

He's very pleased with his work this time around.

Iida is bound to all four bedposts.
A silicone dog bone gag clenched between his gnashing teeth. He's sweaty, and it's soaking through the silk ropes that Aoyama has wrapped around his chest. Wrapped around the base of his dick is an adjustable cock ring. The one that Iida dislikes most of all because it /works/.
Any other one, he can still cum, but /this/ one holds all of his orgasms back like a dam. There's an automatic cock sleeve wrapped around his dick, slowly milking him into dry orgasm after dry orgasm, and inside of his little hole is a vibrating prostate massager.
Of which Aoyama holds the remote.

He flicks it on again once, on and off, just a quick little pulse to watch Iida arch up from the sheets, a strangled yell bursting from his chest while he settles into the arm chair across the room with his tea.
"Now, mon cherí," he murmurs with a bright, sadistic smile as Iida hazily glares at him from across the room, "let's see how much punishment you can truly take."

He amps the remote up about midway, taking another sip of his cooling drink as Iida screams.

❗Intermission Over❗
Kirishima exhales slowly as he stares at himself in the full length mirror on the back of Katsuki's bathroom door.

He's dressed in a fishnet shirt with nothing underneath, showing off his pierced nipples, the leather pants Aoyama had sized for him, and black combat boots.
The pants are soft, but they're also /tight/, leaving nothing in the front or the back to anyone's imagination, and he knows that even a hint of a boner is going to be immediately put on display.

And he /will/ have a boner. There's no doubt in his mind.
He's terrified about what's going to happen tonight. But it's greatly eclipsed by the excitement that he's also feeling.

And then he has to mentally smack himself.

'Get it together, Eijirou,' he reprimands himself, scowling at his reflection. 'This is an undercover mission.'
'You're not here for fun and games. You're here to catch a criminal.'

He nods firmly to himself once more before wretching the door open and walking out, heading down the hall to Bakugou's room, where he'd been told to go after he was done getting dressed.
"Took you long enough, Shitty Hair."

Any kind of knowledge he has resembling a known language immediately flies out of his brain.

Holy goddamn Christ on a Ritz Cracker.

Katsuki looks fucking /delicious/.
His hair is slicked all the way back, with only a few elegant pieces arranged to fall across his forehead.

His eyes are covered by a black, strapless mask, of which swirling red accents are traveling down each side.
He's wearing a simple black dress shirt that looks pressed within an inch of it's life.

The lines are so crisp and sharp that he could probably slit a man's throat just by throwing his arm out too quickly.
Around his collar is a red, paisley tie that looks to be made of some kind of silk, he swirling pattern matching wonderfully with the mask on his face, as well as the red cufflinks he can see pinned to his wrists of the same pattern.
He also has on a pair of thin, black leather gloves that stop right at his wrist. They make his hands look like a dangerous weapon, and Kirishima shudders as he imagines those hands on him tonight, touching him in ways that he can only dream of.
And /boy/, if he thought his pants were tight, Katsuki's pants were like a fucking second skin, clinging to his legs and making every subtle shift of his thigh muscles stand out. There was also a long silver zipper, situated straight over his crotch, with a big button at the top.
But what really was fucking up his whole brain function were the /heels/.

They weren't even flashy. They were simple black heels, with simple straps that attached to silver buckles, wrapping about each thin ankle. They wouldn't be out of place at a standard office setting.
But coupled with everything else the blond was wearing, plus his own wild imagination, they were easily the sexiest fucking shoe that he's ever had the pleasure of seeing.

Katsuki cocks a blond eyebrow, the black of his mask making his red eyes seem to glow.
"You alright, Eijirou?" He asks, but he's smirking, and his seemingly glowing eyes are bright with amusement.

He knows exactly what he's doing.

"F-fine," Kirishima says faintly, his eyes ravenously devouring the feast before him.
A lesser man would beg to lick the dust from the top of those heels.

And he is dangerously close to becoming a lesser man.
"H-how did you get your mask to stick to your face like that?" he asks, grasping at something, anything to stop his spiral into horniness.

Katsuki rolls his eyes, but lets him slide, tucking the rest of his shirt into his pants to show off his slim waist.
"Special adhesive," he says factually. "Came with the mask when I ordered it."

"Why the mask?"

He shrugs, straightening his tie in the mirror. "Anonymity. Wouldn't want the world to know one of the precinct's best enjoys forcing men to their knees.

He wants to be on his knees.
He mentally beats his horny back into the shadows from whence it came, just barely managing to drag his eyes away from the rounded curve of that plush ass as Katsuki reaches for something on his dresser.

"Seems like it might be bad for your sk- what is that?"
The blond is holding a small, familiar looking black tube with red, cursive writing detailed along the side.

He's wracking the /fuck/ out of his brain trying to figure out what it is when Katsuki tugs off the top and turns the bottom, pushing up a small, red stick.
Oh, fuck.

"Oh, fuck."

"You've never seen lipstick before, Shitty Hair?"
He watches, his dick harder than diamonds, as Katsuki bends over the vanity to get closer to the mirror.

Watching as a steady hand places the tip of the lipstick at the corner of his lip before s l o w l y dragging it across, smearing his upper lip a dark, tantalizing wine red.
He's even /slower/ with the bottom one, dabbing softly, delicately, making sure to paint every hidden crevice the same color before pulling back to admire his work and blot accordingly.

Kirishima doesn't even know if he's still existing.
He feels like he could disintegrate at the first strong wind, leaving only his hard dick behind as evidence of how horny he currently is.

"All done," Katsuki hums, and Kirishima thanks /God/ that the floor in his bedroom is carpeted.
If he would have had to hear the click of those heels on a hardwood floor after seeing everything that he just saw, he would have ruined these pants forever, Aoyama's hard work be damned.
Katsuki is smirking again, and holy shit, the red makes it that much /hornier/, if he dies like this, don't revive him, it's the way he wants to go.

"Alright. Now that I'm all done getting ready, let's finish getting you ready as well."
He swallows loudly, shuddering at the sensation of a gloved hand curling around his hip.

"I-I thought I was done?"

Katsuki hums, and he gasps at the feeling of cool leather stroking over his hip bone.

"Well, you could be...but what good is a dog without a collar?"
He's gonna have a heart attack before the night is over. He knows it.

"C'mon. It's almost time to go," the blond demands, sweeping past him out of the door. Kirishima follows him without a second thought, his eyes immediately dropping to his ass.

He wants to bite it.
'It's just for work, it's just for work, it's just for work,' he thinks harshly in his mind, trying his damndest to keep his hands go himself.

He's never noticed the natural sway of his partner's hips before.
'Just for work, just for wo-!'

The first click of a heel against linoleum makes him gasp softly, his knees going weak.

He drops like a stone, his chest suddenly heaving. He feels light headed and hot, blinking wide eyes at Katsuki as he squats in front of him.
"Damn, you drop real easy, huh?" He murmurs softly, reaching out to cup his flushed cheek.

He moans loudly, his eyes rolling back at the feel of cool leather against his heated skin.

"N-not usually," he pants, struggling to make complete words. "Y-you just-! You're so-!"
He shudders, shaking his head sharply to gather his thoughts.

"I-it wasn't this at the Academy," he whines. "/He/ wasn't like this. Like you. He was just something to help me relax, but /this/, /you/-!"

Katsuki watches him, patiently waiting for him to finish.
He swallows thickly, meeting his eyes.

"I /like/ this," he whispers, his pleading gaze begging him to understand. "I /crave/ this, and you're meeting every expectation I've ever had."

Katsuki's breath catches in his throat, his eyes widening.
"I've only had a /taste/ of what you could give me, and I'm already more addicted to it than I ever was at the academy. And I'm afraid that if I go any farther, I'm gonna be hooked."

Is he crying? He might be crying. But he can't help it. He's tremendously overwhelmed.
The steady arousal and commands and desperation that he'd accumulated over the course of the day with Katsuki reaching its peak and tumbling forth in a steady stream of word vomit and tears.
"I don't think that this can be a one time thing for me," he whispers softly.

Katsuki abruptly stands.

"Stay here," he says as he turns away, the click of his heels echoing down the hall.
Kirishima probably couldn't move even if he wanted to.

It's barely two minutes later that the blond is back with a box, a granola bar, and a glass of cold water.

He doesn't hesitate to drop elegantly to his own knees, placing the box and snack down while holding the glass.
"Drink," he demands, and Kirishima gulps down half of it before he pulls it away and sets it to the side. He then rips open the granola bar, silently urging him to take a few bites before setting that aside as well.
He then sighs deeply, the few strands of hair brushing his forehead flying upwards with the harsh breath.

"We," he says firmly as he pulls the box into his lap, "are going to talk about this later. We're going to sit down after tonight, talk /in depth/, and make a contract."
Kirishima's head snaps up.

Katsuki is looking directly at him.

"In that contract, we will make a structured set of rules. We will have do's and don't's. We will have turn on's and turn off's. We will /properly/ enter a Dom and sub relationship."

He feels like he can't breathe.
"But for now, we just don't have the time," he continues softly, pulling the top off of the box to reveal a beautiful red collar, the inside lined with fur, attached to a silver chain with an equally red handle.
Katsuki yanks his gloves off, letting them fall to the floor, and uses his bare hands to lift it from it's place, steady and sure as he presents it to him.

"Even still...Kirishima Eijirou. Would you, my sub, be willing to wear your Dom's collar?"
Kirishima whimpers brokenly.


Katsuki doesn't smile, but his eyes are bright with victory as he buckles the collar around his bared throat.

And even though it makes no sense, he feels like he can finally breathe.
The fur is soft against his neck, and the chain is cold where it touches his skin, sending shivers racing down his spine.

He watches through half lidded eyes as Katsuki pulls his gloves back on, snapping them smartly into place before reaching down to yank him up by his leash.
He goes willingly, a goofy smile teasing the edges of his lips that makes the blond huff in amusement.

"Now that that's all settled, let's go catch ourselves a criminal, eh Shitty Hair?"

"Yes, Sir!"
ITS ONLY BEEN LIKE AN HOUR SHE WILD https://twitter.com/queenisthirsty/status/1250205667035471872?s=19
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