Second #kinkyshima2020 post for the summer.

June 22 - lingerie, ship: #bakukiri

CW: first times, men in lingerie, accidental peeping

𝒲𝒶𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝐵𝑒 𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝐻𝑜𝑒, 𝐵𝓇𝑜-

All he had wanted was a certain answer if Bakugou was into him or not.

So he told his friends, because he trusted them. Valued their input and held their opinions high. They were good people - amazing heroes. Eijirou didn’t need all four years of UA to realize he trusted them with his life.

So how any of that equated to him kneeling on the floor in Bakugou’s bedroom - in his apartment - is beyond his brain cell capacity.

Especially when there’s barely anything covering him from being exposed.

Black straps - measured to hug over his muscles, stretching without looking like they could snap off - covered his skin. Almost like wearing a harness over his pecs, but with his dick packed in a fancier jockstrap.

A simple outfit - they let Mina choose it in the end. Denki and Sero were getting a little too wild with patterns and Eijirou couldn’t choose anything that wasn’t red.

The black is sharp and Mina thought it would look yummy on his bronze skin.

If it weren’t for his god awful tan lines and the dark purple stretch marks under his arms and between his legs, he might be inclined to agree.

Eijirou will never understand how he lets his friends talk him into these kinds of things.

Well, maybe from the way they always get hyped up and agree together - so sure of what they see with him that they make Eiji sure too. Sure and confident enough to try anything.

But it’s so much easier to be confident beforehand. If they saw how their purchase turned out, they would know what an absolute fool he was about to make of himself.

It’s been over an hour since his friends shoved him out the door so he could get ready over here and he’s starting to get antsy.

He’s spent an inappropriate amount of time gelling his hair to perfection before realizing hard hair might not be so sexy to hold onto and suddenly he’s using Bakugou’s shower and soaps to flatten it down.

He had to let it air dry because of course his bud would have no use for a hairdryer, but now it’s all humid and frizzy; pulled back into a ponytail because there’s nothing else he can do.

Now he’s wondering if he should borrow the blond’s razor again and shave the little hairs around his nipples. The area where he touched up his pubes really burns.

Should he have gone for a full manscaping? Would hairless balls under a bush of hair look weird? Does Bakugou even suck dick?

𝘐𝘴 𝘉𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘴 is not the question he should be wondering as the front door to said man’s place slams open.

Aw, fuck.

The door is closed with enough force to make the whole apartment rattle. There’s a heavy slam and some rhythmic stomping; it takes a second for him to actually hear what Bakugou’s words are, even though his voice echoes through the walls.

“...stupid fucking airlines...my bag...incompetent employees...last fucking time I fly-”

Oh shit. Oh shit. Bakugou’s pissed- pissed isn’t sexy, abort abort abort-

As quiet as a stampede, he crawls, hands and knees, to the nearest open door. Which happens to be the closet; big enough to fit in, small enough there was no room to stretch both arms in. It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t have time to be picky.

Bakugou bursts in the room just as he’s pulled the door shut.

It’s then, underneath his best friend’s hanging shirts, he realizes he can see visibly everything from the slotted spaces of the shutter door.

Bakugou’s carry-on whizzes past the closest, landing somewhere across the room, out of sight.

“Fucking 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺.”

Kirishima sucks in a breath when he finally sees him.

Crisp, black leather jacket, paired with an equally dark shirt, branding a sport logo.

And the tightest pair of jeans he’s ever seen.

They're the skinny pair (the kind Denki tries to get him in when they go bar hopping), artfully torn in large rips over the thigh. Just that tiny amount of showing skin is enough to make him flush. They look so good on his legs, curving over his big calves and muscular thighs.

It’s almost like they’re glued on his butt.

Oh fuck- he has a direct view of those pants over his butt.

The back pockets are distressed, to match the aesthetic no doubt, but it’s hard to pay attention to good design when they are pushed out by a wonderful mass of muscle. Kiri’s seen the amount of weight he can bench squat, he knows that butt is solid.

Bakugou has the greatest butt, honestly.

Which is why the polite thing, probably, would be to stop looking at it. This is already veering into a territory of inappropriate that he doesn’t want to think about.

Sitting almost naked in your bro’s closet is one thing; sitting almost naked in your bro’s closet while staying at his great butt travels way further down on the ‘not cool dude’ scale.

He should probably just come out of the closet already before this gets even worse.

There’s a sudden rustle and it takes a few blinks before Kirishima processes Bakugou sansing himself of the jacket and shirt, letting go of a loud breath even he can hear feet away.

The blond raises his arms to roll both shoulders and Kiri seriously tries not to drool over the way his traps and back muscles flex together pleasantly.

Bakugou’s deltoids are honest to gods 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵. It’s such a shame he can’t look more, but it’s too risky in the gym showers-

A jingling sound and a bang.

Bakugou drops his pants.

Kiri’s reaction isn’t immediate. It takes a second, like pouring molasses into water. Trying to get it to stir in.

𝘉𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴.

.

.

.

.

.

.

And he isn’t wearing anything underneath.

He has tanelines, too. Much fainter, barely a contrast with the fair marbling of his skin. They’re harder to see if you aren’t looking - and oh gods is Kirishima looking.

Pale skin, decorated with red imprints from the jean stitching fill the view. Gorgeous, without imperfection, aside from the mole just above his left cheek, where the waistline of his pants would cover. It’s no wonder he’s never noticed it before.

Without warning, Bakugou moves, kicking the pants out of view while Kirishima watches the entire thing. Legs flexing, muscles moving like a finely tuned machine. He thinks he sees a flash a balls and maybe the head of an uncut dick-

His heart rate picks up.

Forget the mole, he’s never gotten to stare at the blond’s entire bare body before.

Peeks in the gym showers would never be the same again.

Especially when Bakugou turns around. Facing the closet.

Feet away, Bakugou’s dick is staring him dead in the face.

Kirishima might have lost all capacity for breathing.

Can- was there such thing as a perfect dick? He’s pretty average, by his standards, but all he really had to go on were the monster penises he found in porn. Forearm length, some as thick as cans. How those guys kept their guts in place after taking those was unimaginable.

Bakugou was definitely bigger than him. Even flaccid, he was long, with a bulbous head at the end, peeking lightly out of the foreskin covering it. Clearly he didn’t give a shit to shave, his pretty dick surrounded in a curly, dirty blond bush.

His balls were covered with a layer of fine hair and drooped nicely between his strong legs. They’d fit perfectly cupped in Kiri’s hand-

But he watches them cup into Bakugou’s hand, instead.

There’s the obvious motion of a squeeze and suddenly the room is filled with the hottest groan no porn could ever come close to mimicking.

Kirishima doesn’t dare move his eyes while watching the blond slowly take himself in his hand. The skin over the head peeling back slowly.

In the closet, he might literally combust.

With the amount of blood rushing to his cock, it’s a wonder the jock doesn’t snap right off his dick.

Fuck fuck fuckfuck fuck𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬

Help me decide! Does...

Like an exercise been done a million times, Bakugou’s hand curls around the head, taking ample care to pull back all skin, freeing the entire head and showing the little bit of pre dotting the tip.

He doesn’t make any kind of noise this time, looking strangely methodical as the velvety skin moves back and forth in his hand.

It’s only when he sits down onto the edge of the bed and shifts his legs into a full on manspread does he make any kind of sound again.

His balls squished in between his legs are the cushion his curled fist keeps impacting, with every languid roll up his shaft. The blond swipes the tip of his cock and brings the liquid back over him for a better slide.

If Kirishima were between his legs, he’d make sure none of that stayed dried.

He licks his lips just over the thought of it.

The room is filled with the quiet sounds of Bakugou’s fist fapping away, which rings more like an orchestra of 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 and 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 to Kiri’s own ears, with how much he wants and needs it.

He’s yet to take his own cock into his hand. He’s painfully hard and desperate for any kind of physical stimulation.

But that... would be crossing the final boundary.

If Bakugou discovered him in this closet, he had a chance of playing it off as some prank. It would piss him off and maybe he’d see his hard dick, but he knew the ego resting within the blond.

Knew that if he could stroke it casually, like, 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬, their friendship could survive.

But not if he creamed his panties like the first time he found his Mom’s gay men porn mag.

Impossible to come to a full recovery after that.

Ah, but his dick. It was weeping for some action. Even if it was too dark to confirm, the tip felt sticky and had to be making an obvious wet spot in the front.

It wasn’t fair. Bakugou really was hot as fuck.

He desperately wants to touch himself. While he can still hear Bakugou’s noises and not have to picture him holding his dick with his imagination.

It’s literally right there. In his reach for grasping. Maybe he could wipe himself clean after with one of the shirts in here and stash it away until he could sneak back for a wash.

His hand creeps a little further up his thigh, indecision still plaguing his mind even as it comes to a rest right next to the goal. Bakugou had yelled at him once to 𝘴𝘦𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴, but maybe he hadn’t meant for it to be taken so literal.

Maybe if he just squeezed himself once, to take the edge off.

“You better still be paying attention in there, Shitty Hair.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵?

Kirishima falls back off of his knees with a yelp, causing the loudest crash in the history of mankind to echo throughout the room. He takes several shirts down with him in the scuffle.

On the other side of the door, still holding his dick, Bakugou lets out the ugliest guffaw.

He’s still laughing at him when he snorts out, “Did you think you became Invisi-bitch suddenly? I can see you through the shutters, dumbass. Saw you as soon as I came in my room.”

Kirishima jerks up, brushing the shirt that’s landed on his head out of his face.

How- why wouldn’t he- what would make him look directly at the closet first, though?!

“Maybe don’t leave your ugly ass shoes at my front door if you don’t want me looking for your stupid ass.”

Oh.

Yeah.

Those.

He forgot about those.

If he could actually move around in this closet, now would be the time to curl up and die.

The silence that fills both room and closet only intensifies that feeling.

It’s like the world’s worst game of 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵, leaving Kirishima to sit there holding his breath, only to let it go when it’s too much for his chest to keep holding in. It feels loud in the silence, just like it feels loud in his head.

He closes his eyes - cowardly, he knows. After all those thoughts of what he’d want to do to Bakugou. What he'd give to keep staring at him.

Confidence was definitely easier beforehand.

The worst part was he didn’t understand why Bakugou would whip it out like that just to toy with him.

Angry stomps come across the room at a lightning pace, surprising him, not even giving the time to freak out again before the closet is yanked open and- oh. Yep. That’s a dick in his face.

A manly dick, super drippy. In his face.

It was attached to a blond with the most incredulous look on his face.

Before he can even open his mouth, there’s a hand spreading across the back of his head, fingers securing tightly into his hair. To keep his head facing up.

“The fuck you still sitting in here for?! Get out here and suck on my nuts, dipshit!”

Kirishima feels his jaw drop. Hamster brain running on the wheel just to keep up.

He- Wha- Bakugou didn’t pull out his dick as a joke?!

“What’s that dumbass face for?” Gritted teeth snarl, “Isn’t that what you bought this getup for? Don’t tell me you wanted to sit your hot ass in here on purpose.”

It takes a few beats for him to catch up, but when he does, Kirishima shakes his head vehemently 𝘯𝘰.

Most of his hair ends up whipping around into his face, throwing his vision off kilter. But it’s worth getting all of it in his mouth for the way it makes Bakugou snort again. He may roll his eyes, but that breaks all the remaining tension.

This is when the easy quiet settles. Their usual kinds of quiet, where Bakugou’s exasperated and Kirishima can’t stop smiling at him.

Even if he’s still hyper focused on the hot hand still buried in loosening hair.

A feeling probably closer to ascending takes over when that same hand moves to push his bangs, petting his hair back.

“C’mon, Red. Don’t be fucking nervous. Where’s that sturdy hero now? The one who refuses to back down from a challenge.”

It’s Bakugou’s smirk that does him in.
Just a small quip of his lips to the side. A flash of teeth, pupils dilating with excitement.

“Didn’t you come here to actually do something, Eijirou?”

No, wait. That’s what does him in.

He doesn’t crawl forward, he lurches.

Immediately going for the legs. Wrapping his arms around Adonis thighs, practically lifting the man up to pull him flush to his face.

Bakugou stumbles. “Whoa-! Hey wait- to the fucking bed!”

Kirishima isn’t listening. More like choosing not to, honestly. His face is finally close to Bakugou’s junk, he catches a whiff of man musk and something sort of salty - probably all the sweat.

It should be some kind of deterrent, sticky plane balls with a side of ass sweat and a bit of pre.

But fuck, it’s 𝘉𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰𝘶. Everything smells and it’s 𝘢𝘭𝘭 Bakugou.

If anything, it makes the saliva pool when he goes in for the first lick.

The guttural sound the blond makes in response is what’ll really snap the jock off his dick.

Fuck, oh fuck. It’s so good. His tongue, drooling over the soft skin of his sac, holding strong legs like a tower he refuses to let fall. Bakugou’s hands are bracing both shoulders for support, curling in over both of them so close; Kiri can feel his hot breath in his hair.

He laps and he laps, appreciating every tongue stroke that forces Bakugou to make some kind of noise. He alternates between long laves over the entirety and simple kitten licks here and there, testing the preferences of the man above.

There’s little to no care that he’s basically forced his entire face into the crevasse of another man’s groin. Kirishima’s trying to suck as much of those balls into his mouth without accidentally nicking him with sharp teeth.

His nose has rubbed up and around with his drooly mouth so many times, he’s already overly familiar with the raw scent. (And maybe a bit sticky with juices.)

It smells like his breath, sweat, and whatever the sweat he laps off of Bakugou makes him taste.

His nose moves, grazing across the underside of the shaft now taking rest over one half of his face. Nails dig into his shoulders every time he remembers to give it a gooey nuzzle.

He pops a nut in his mouth and tries to roll it around with his tongue - like he saw in that video Mina made him watch the day before yesterday.

It has the same effect on Bakugou like it did the man in the video, only Bakugou’s the one trembling and moaning.

His legs are shaking so bad, he’s surprised he hasn’t toppled over.

That does things to Kirishima’s chest. Terribly wonderful things.

Pointing his tongue, he goes for the in between, mashing his mouth into his balls, licking the silky skin in between both nuts. He slurps hard when he reaches the bottom, sucking in a little proportion before he tries to take in as much soft skin as his mouth can get.

“𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬!” Bakugou yells so loud, it makes his ears ring.

On hand moves off his shoulder, bumping into his nose and face. It takes several seconds too long for him to realize Bakugou’s trying to find his dick and grasp it.

He must have his eyes closed - Kiri hopes his mouth is just that good.

He tries to help him, pulling off so he can unlock an arm and use a hand to guide a wrist. The blond hisses at him though, free hand digging back into his hair and yanking him back against his sac.

It’s like an explosion of tingles from where his hair was pulled, all the way down his back. His mouth is wide open, so of course he cries out. He feels Bakugou freeze against him and for a moment he thinks he’s done something wrong. Maybe it was unattractive for a man-

No warning, his hair gets yanked again. Hard. Enough to make tears spring in his eyes.

It also feels so fucking good, he can’t feel his toes.

Bakugou, above him, makes a 𝘵𝘴𝘬 noise. “Did I tell you to fuckin’ stop?”

He’s going for commanding - he’s got the tone in his voice, like when he’s bossing around the ‘extras’ or trying to get civilians to listen to him tell them what to do.

But he sounds so breathless saying it, Kirishima kind of wants to sob. Or put his nuts in his mouth again, maybe even kiss him. It’s kind of a weird mood.

He doesn’t do any of the above, though. Because Bakugou suddenly stands tall, guiding his head forward with the grip in his hair, taking his own length in his hand.

Kirishima’s seeing stars.

“Keep doing what you were doing before, but only until I say stop. I’m gonna’ come all over this face of yours…okay?”

It takes a second for him to realize Bakugou’s waiting for an answer.

“Okay! Very okay!”

The grip tightens. He might even see a smile.

Then he’s back to being nose deep in man meat, while Bakugou jacks off close to his face.

He goes for familiar patterns, mimicking things he was trying before and being rewarded for with groans and these little breathy grunt sounds. Maybe even some pulled deep from the other man’s chest.

Bakugou’s hand collides with his jaw a few times, but it doesn’t bother him - or Bakugou who can’t get a full stroke in. Kirishima reaches to cup him in his hand, smushing them up and stroking the length of his tongue over the hot skin.

There’s a good chance precum is dripping in his hair.

He rubs against the sac with his thumb, chasing with his tongue and giving a gentle squeeze. Pushing them up and letting them go slowly, sucking the left one in his mouth just because it’s there.

He isn’t sure how long it takes, how long they’ve been at this, how long he’s been allowed to drool all over Bakugou and take him apart with his tongue.

Said man’s been petting his head occasionally, mostly focusing on his strokes. He doesn’t forget to reach in and tug Kiri’s hair.

“Of fuckin’ course you like your hair pulled. Got so goddamn much of it. All I can see is your hair. Fuck!”

Kirishima wonders if his hair is tickling the underside of his shaft. He can’t help but tilt his head back, licking the base where shaft meets sac.

He meets Bakugou’s eyes by accident.

“Oh- fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

He’s yanked back so quickly, he’s surprised he hasn’t suffered from any whiplash. A salty, bitter taste registers on his tongue and he has to close his eyes, because hot ass cum is being pumped all over his lips, his nose, his eyelids.

“Hnng- fuck.” He hears Bakugou elongate.

Something bumps his chin - it might be his dick - before he hears a crash, realizing Bakugou may have just collapsed.

Blindly, he reaches for him.

Bakugou tugs his hair. “M’fine, dumbass. Did it on purpose. Needed to get-”

He cuts off and Kiri only wonders why for a moment, before something comes near his face. It’s probably the most tender thing Bakugou’s ever done, wiping the cum off of it.

He uses his thumb inside the whatever he’s grabbed to clean with, brushing across in even strokes, making sure to be delicate over his eyelids.

His eyelashes flutter, wanting to open. He feels Bakugou brush over his left eye again before he mutters, “wait don’t open yet.”

Bakugou’s lips pressing against his mouth is probably what seals this as the best day of his life.

It’s nothing soft - it’s Bakugou. Rough around the edges, but taking care to ease his tongue in, work around his mouth a little bit before pulling back to lick up any remainder of cum from him.

He’s given another rough peck, for good measure, before he can feel the breath moving away from his face and Bakugou’s hand leaving his hair.

“You’re good now.” He grunts, surprising Kiri into his first blink.

He takes another one, then a couple more before his eyes finally settle. He can’t help but smile when he sees the shirt Bakugou was wearing earlier covered in his cum.

He turns that smile to him, full blast.

Bakugou stares back at him with an upturned brow. “Sure look happy for someone who just got cum all in their eyes.”

“I am happy,” Kirishima agrees, “thank you Baku-”

“Katsuki.” He cuts in. “If you can thank me for coming all over your stupid face, you can call me Katsuki.”

“Katsuki.” He can’t help but breathe back.

It makes Katsuki roll his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. First names and everything. Now come here so I can really make you happy.” He says, gesturing to the obvious tent still in Kiri’s fancy strap.

Baku- Katuski moving forward onto him happens a little too fast for him to keep up, which is why he begs, “Wait!”

B- Katsuki freezes immediately, eyeing him while making sure his hands don’t move any further up his thighs.

Kirishima tentatively places hands over his.

“I just- you gotta-” He forces himself to pause and take a deep breath.

“I want you to know,” he tells him with surety, “that this wasn’t my full intent coming into this. I was- I mean, I didn’t know how to ask? What I wanted...and I wanted a lot of answers. But! I don’t want this to only be about s-s-ex-”

“Eijirou.” Katsuki cuts in again, making his teeth click shut.

When Eijirou can’t quite look at him, he sighs, running his fingers back through Ei’s loose hair. “I know, okay? I know. About the extras helping you, about the outfit, about your shitty confidence we still need to work on…”

That part makes Eijirou smile, which seems like what Katsuki was trying to do. He strokes over his hair once again.

“It’s not just going to be about the fucking, okay? We can do the other shit too. You can move in with me for all I care. I’m okay with it. We’re okay. I’ll try to give you whatever answers you need.”

.
.

Sometimes, it’s just so hard to breathe when you’re so full. That you just have to take a moment, pull back, and laugh about it.

It’s even better when that laugh is joined by Katsuki’s squeezing hand.

Which then moves up his thigh.

Katsuki quirks a brow at him. “Any more questions? I’d really like to open my gift now.”

A thumb brushes the strap of the jock, making Ei shiver.

“O-one more.” Because he has been wondering. Ever since Katsuki brought it up earlier.

Katsuki looks exasperated, but he indulges. Still scooting Ei over his lap. “Yeah?”

“How did you know about the outfit? And the squad helping me?”

This time, before Katsuki answers, he smirks:

“We share an Amazon Prime account together, dumbass. You added Mina’s card. I went and checked what you bought.”

Oh.

Yeah.

He forgot about that.

❀ 𝐸𝓃𝒹 ❀