Small thread of this idea! Kirishima jerks off to Bakugou's voice and then even more when Bakugou calls his dick small.

https://twitter.com/MarbleAGarble/status/1382405906919428096?s=20

CW humiliation

Enjoy~

---

Kirishima swears it’s an accident.

He didn’t mean to, honestly. He was tired and horny and fresh from the shower, barely awake as he scrolled through for some sort of porn video to get him motivated, hand rubbing at his cock through his shorts while scrolling through.

And his finger just clicked on something. He didn’t think much of it as the video loaded, thinking it lagging with how the screen stayed pitch black. Hell, Kirishima didn’t even know what JIV stood for!

It wasn’t until it finally started, his thumb posed to swipe back to the main page when that voice started up.

“I hope you’re hard already, because I’m not waiting for ya’.”

Kirishima freezes. Hand cupping his half hard dick, eyes wide staring at the black screened video. He’d know that voice anywhere.

“Come on, get your pants down. Bet you’re wet enough already, hu? So worked up.”

For a few seconds Kirishima doesn’t know what to think as his brain immediately shorts out. After rebooting, he’s quick to click out of the video in a panic, throwing his phone onto the bed like it burned him as he stares down at the now entirely blank screen and silent speakers.

Because that was…

He tries not to think about it. Puts his phone on the bedside table and curls up in his bed, wills himself to sleep. Wills his erection down. Wills the need to open the video again and listen to the rest down, down, down.

Only the last one actually works.

---

A week later after being entirely too frustrated with bad o-faces and broken moans, Kirishima finds himself staring at the same video he had stumbled upon the week before. His dick’s in his hand, hard and red and weeping from the build-up with no true relief.

He wants to come and go to sleep, but neither of those things are going to happen with how things are going right now.

But he shouldn’t. Honestly, he shouldn’t. It feels like stepping over the line of something entirely unspoken. Of breaking a trust that Kirishima figured was just a given as best bros, and for fucksake he still saw him nearly every week--

they were supposed to meet up for drinks on Thursday! He can’t be using his best friend’s voice to get off… he can’t. Shouldn’t.
/Shouldn’t./

Kirishima clicks on the video, winces as he does so, but the heavy guilt that feels like lead in his stomach melts away almost as soon as he hears the voice speak up again.

“I hope you’re hard already, because I’m not waiting for ya’.”

Bakugou. It’s not the same exact voice he uses while on the job and not exactly the one he uses whenever they go out together to catch up, but it’s...something. It’s him. Breathier maybe. A little bit deeper, but not as rough.

It’s so distinctly him, Kirishima is sure of it, and is even more so when he hears the next line and his dick throbs hard against his now sweaty palm.

This is so wrong on so many levels, but he can’t stop.

“Come on, get your pants down. Bet you’re wet enough already, hu? So worked up.”

He’s already kicked off his underwear and he is wet, dripping with pre and lube that makes a squelching slick noise as he slowly starts to stroke himself to the sound of Bakugou, his best friend, speaking to him on a porn video.

“I know you want to savor it, but we don’t have much time tonight so I want you to move quickly.”

Kirishima’s pace picks up, eyes falling closed as he listens to the commands being given to him.

“Stroke yourself, just like that, squeeze your shaft on the way down. Mm, doesn’t that feel good? Feel how hard you are. Thick and hot in your own hand. Pulsing. Go on, I don’t want you holding back tonight.”

Kirishima gasps, feeling as though he’s never truly realizes how rough his hands are. Calloused from all his hero duties, working out, scarred in some places. How every raised and rough edge of his skin catches just right against the smooth skin of his cock,

how if there wasn’t the ease of lube he’d be burning right now. He groans on the next down stroke, squeezing just how Bakugou told him to, entirely embarrassed by how worked up he already is.

“Your balls are so heavy, hu? So full. It’s been a long day, fuck, I bet they’re aching to be empty. Spill all that pearly cum across your stomach. Mmm, I want to see it. Fuck your hand, come on, I want you to come for me.”

Kirishima moves faster, hips thrusting up to meet his strokes, balls slapping as his rhythm picks up and his breathing hitches--

“Don’t keep me waiting for it. Come.”

Kirishima’s back goes rigid, thighs tense, as his cock shoots off and his abs are splattered in seed. The arch reaches up to his pecs, dribbling hot and sticky across his skin as his balls pulse as he jerks himself through his orgasm.

Falling back to the mattress, limp, Kirishima is almost ashamed to admit that was one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had.

---

JIVs. Or, Jerk-Off Instructional Videos.

It’s a whole sub genre that Kirishima’s not been aware of until now and, even more curious still, wonders what the hell Bakugou is doing making them.

Once he’s cleaned up and more sane, Kirishima finds a link in the description of that video to a whole website filled with them.

He wouldn’t really call Bakugou a camboy as none of them actually show his face, all of them just black, blank screens with audio overlayed, but still he makes these videos. He's in the industry in some form. And there’s...a lot of them.

Dozens. More than Kirishima would like to admit to. More than he would figure Bakugou even had the time to make and, after looking at the posting dates, has determined they go back a few years.

He looks through them feeling just a little guilty as he falls down the rabbit hole finding playlists of all various types. Sample videos, slow jerk-off sections, rapid jerk-off sections, all of them only featuring a black screen and the voice of his best friends filtering in.

Suddenly, he’s thinking about them constantly. Making dinner, eating lunch, on patrol, and even worse of all whenever he’s actually around Bakugou.

When they’re out with friends all he can imagine is Bakugou set up in his apartment, microphone, headphones, computer. He wonders if he solely speaks or if he...participates.

If he talks with a hand down his pants, stroking himself to his own voice, own commands, the visual idea of how many other people listen to him and touch themselves. Of the power he clearly has over his audience. Over Kirishima.

It’s not until Kirishima finds his pay wall playlist that he really begins to worry.

Humiliation JIV the title reads with each video costing so much depending on the length. There’s a short sample, just a taste, that Kirishima finds himself clicking on before he can even think about it.

“Hahh, you think that cock of yourself could satisfy anyone? Satisfy me?”

Kirishima’s blood runs entirely south.

This voice sounds so much more like how he knows Bakugou. Cocky. Mocking. Forceful.

“I’ve seen better in high school.”

He gets hard so fast he’s light headed. He’s in his living room, thankfully sitting on his couch, hand past his waistband as he grinds the heel of his palm against his cock, the pressure verging on too much even as he feels his orgasm fast approaching.

“Pathetic little thing. Bet I’d barely even feel it if you stuck it in me.”

Oh fuck.

“Only thing it’s good for is taking a piss, hu? Choke on your pinky finger faster than I would your stupid little cock.”

Oh /fuck./

Kirishima comes like he’s fourteen again. Sudden, wet, leaving him staring down at the stain now spreading in his pants, hand soaked, wondering what the fuck just happened as the short video ends and Kirishima is left with his dick going soft and his cheeks heating up.

Oh. Well.

He’s never grabbed his credit card so fast in his entire life.

---

((sorry, part II up tomorrow because I did not realize how late it was LOL sleep well~))

((i have 4 more hours of work, but here's the start of part II! Rest posted when I'm finished! A little midday treat for everyone on Baku's b-day~))

....it becomes a problem.

Kirishima realizes quickly he’s becoming obsessed.

For all three years of high school, he lived next to Bakugou. Even when they switched dorms he made sure to request being close to his best friend-- it just made things easier.

Besides, knowing he was right next door always gave him a small comfort he couldn’t quite explain at the time, but could now recognize as more than him admiring the other.

But, the thing was, in all of those years of living right next to him, sharing a wall, he never once heard Bakugou in the middle of...personal time.

It happens when you live in close quarters with a bunch of other teenagers-- raging hormones, changing bodies, the sudden freedom that came with not living under the same roof as their parents. It happens.

There’s locker room talk about it and the unspoken rule that you don’t interrupt if you hear something unless it’s really, really obnoxious.

Kirishima never had to worry about that as he never actually heard Bakugou ever.

Now, this could just have meant he was quieter while jerking off, but in the end it all boils down to the fact that in all his years of knowing Bakugou, Kirishima has never had the opportunity to know what he might be like in bed.

He never talked about it with anyone. Always made fun of everyone when those topics came up in the dorms, the lockers, the bathrooms. He never seemed to care, which was fine, Kirishima all around figured he wasn’t interested at all, but now…

Now…

“I’ve gotta buy toys to satisfy me, how sad is that?”

He’s listened to this particular video about five times now. It’s the first one in the long line up of videos from every playlist that Kirishima can tell Bakugou’s actually touching himself while talking.

All the other sessions have him simply talking the listener through getting off or making fun of them while doing so, but this one features the background noise of sheets ruffling,

the snap of a cap opening, and then very distinctly the sound of something wet being applied and covering...something.

The schlick-schlick coming from the speakers is familiar, but Bakugou talking gives it all away.

“I can barely tell your tiny dick from a finger, so I had to get something that would actually make me come.”

His voice is mocking, sneering, even as it pitches up when Kirishima can only assume he presses the well lubed dildo to his hole and sinks down onto it.

It’s everything that Kirishima didn’t hear in high school. Everything that wasn’t there.

The sound of Bakugou gasping, the little purr of pleasure as his mind fills in with the image of him bottoming out on the toy. How he lays back on his bed and slowly starts thrusting the fake cock in and out,

the wet noise of it pushing back into him over and over again overlaid with the bitten off little moans as Bakugou catches his breath long enough to speak again.

“Fuck, thing feels so fucking good. Thought I’d never feel this again, being dicked down by a cock that makes me-- ahhh -- moan.”

The degrading talking only gets Kirishima off faster, knowing what Bakugou might sound like, even if it is all a show for his audience, Kirishima will take the imagination of it.

Bakugou laying on the bed, forcing Kirishima watch him as he lets a toy fuck him. Forces Kirishima to stand at the foot of the bed, dick in hand, only good enough to jerk off at the sight instead of participating. He’s not good enough for Bakugou.

Not man enough to actually touch him, get him off, give him what he really needs.

Kirishima lets his head fall back against his pile of pillows, groaning as he strokes himself through the orgasm that crashed over him,

feeling the spurts of cum coat his knuckles, dripping down his hand, making the last few strokes even wetter, sticky, the noise of it nearly matching the sound of Bakugou in his phone shoving the toy inside him.

He lets out a breath, staring up at the ceiling as Bakugou lets out a high little whine that ends in one word making Kirishima’s toes curl:

“Pathetic.”

---

Kirishima knows for a fact that his dick is not small. He’s had more than one person in a communal shower, whether that be back in school or at his agency, comment on that fact. They whistle at him.

Say things like ‘no wonder your uniform has such baggy pants’ or ‘panties just drop when they find out’. Someone once called it a third leg. A horse dick.

All of this has only ever made Kirishima flush, stutter, put his pants back on all the faster just to get the eyes and conversation off him.

And then, there’s Bakugou.

Bakugou who doesn’t even know it. Bakugou who talks to him late at night, demeaning him, calling him names, telling him how his massive cock was still small, still couldn’t satisfy anyone, he’s just a one trick pony who can’t keep it up long enough to make anyone come.

And Kirishima loves it. Eats it up. Buys expensive headphones so he can hear everything, really feel like Bakugou is standing over him, laughing at him, playing with himself knowing that Kirishima wasn’t even worth his time.

It should be embarrassing and on a certain level it is, but after weeks, months, of listening to Bakugou’s videos all Kirishima finds himself wanting at the end of the day is a long shower and twenty minutes worth of

Bakugou telling him how to touch his dick even if he’s not worthy of an orgasm.

All of his daydreams revolve around Bakugou now. To some extent they did before, but now Kirishima can barely go the full day without picturing Bakugou’s sly smirk, the gravel deep of his voice,

the way he gets a little softer, higher, when he’s close to orgasm. How his voice sounds telling Kirishima to hold back, to squeeze at the base of his dick and pull at his balls, wanting him to save it for just a little longer, just a little more,

until Kirishima is moaning out loud, coming into his fist, and picturing it as Bakugou standing over him, his hand on him, looking at him so disappointed he couldn’t last. Couldn’t follow basic instructions.

He burns with shame, but still his heart pounds. He’s never been able to come so hard, so well, until he found out about Bakugou’s videos.

And Bakugou…

Whenever they meet up, Kirishima has to be careful. He reminds himself he has to look him in the eye, has to act normal. He can’t tell his best friend he wants him to turn his irritation with the day back on him.

He can’t say ‘I found your videos and now I get hard when I hear your voice’. He can’t say ‘i really want to date you, but also can you please call my dick small’.

There’s tension.

It’s not until the fourth time they’re out for drinks and dinner, just the two of them, after Kirishima discovered what Bakugou does in his free time, that Bakugou noticed. Or at least brings it up.

“Okay Shitty Hair, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Kirishima jumps, looking up from where he was looking at the cuts of chicken on their table barbecue, up at Bakugou with owlish eyes and tongs in his hand.

His heart pounds with the tone of his voice.

“What’s wrong with me?”

They’re about twenty minutes into the meal and Bakugou’s only half a beer in, he shouldn’t be asking questions like that yet.

“Yeah,” Bakugou points at him with his own tongs. “Last few times we’ve gone out you’ve been jumpy as shit. Something going on you’re not telling me?”

/That I want you to refuse to let me come no matter how much I cry./

“No, nothing. Maybe work has just been stressing me out a bit more? I haven’t been sleeping well for the past month or so.”

Lies. All lies. Kirishima has never been less stressed and hasn't ever gotten better sleep. Stroking one out every night before bed with Bakugou’s voice purring in his ear has been the best bedtime story he could have ever asked for.

The only thing stressful is facing his friend the next evening knowing all he wants to do after is go home to listen to said friend telling him to pinch the tip of his tiny cock until he cries.

For a few seconds, a few long seconds, Bakugou stares at him, glaring, and Kirishima looks back trying to not sweat, trying to not fumble, accidentally giving himself away.

Eventually, Bakugou relents.

“Fine, be like that.” He says, stealing the two pieces of pork belly that he knows Kirishima has been waiting for. He pauses mid bite into the first one before,“but if there was something actually wrong you’d tell me, right?”

Kirishima smiles at him, managing to swipe the piece Bakugou isn’t actively chewing on. “Of course, bro!”

---

He works his way through every single video and then has to go back to listen to them all over again waiting for more. He figures out what Bakugou’s posting schedule is, roughly speaking.

Sometimes he’s late because of reasons Kirishima can figure out are typically work related, but most of the time he posts a video at the end of the month.

It’s not until he comes home from one night of hanging out with Bakugou to find a brand new video that he realizes how much of a problem that might be.

It’s short, under ten minutes,

but Kirishima still feels the thrill under his skin as he tries his best to calmly take off his shoes, jacket, carefully put them away, but only gets so far as throwing everything down by the door and falling onto his couch with his thumb already pressing play.

He’d only been gone from Bakugou’s for two hours and there’s already a video. He was at his apartment that night shooting the shit and watching tv and drinking beer and now Bakugou’s posted up another video.

This one’s a little different.

It starts up quickly, the opening audio already sounding like Bakugou’s on his bed, dildo thrusting in and out of him, panting softly into the sheets. It’s like he started masturbating and then halfway through figured he should be recording.

It’s raw and open and everything that Kirishima’s ever wanted to hear from him.

“Fuck, you think I’d need some extra to fuck me when I could have a giant cock pounding my ass.”

His voice is almost overtaken by the sound of the toy moving in and out of him, the microphone having to be just thrown onto his bed instead of set up by his head.

“Sad little shit you are thinking I would ever beg for a dick like that-- hahh, ahhh, f-fuck--”

It’s the most frazzled Kirishima’s ever heard him. Normally, even when he knows Bakugou’s also masturbating, he can still tell Bakugou collected in some way. He’s never sounded like this. Desperate. Greedy. Hungry.

“Yes, fuck yes, just like that, just like--”

The moan that follows is muffled, half heard, and Kirishima can only imagine Bakugou bit down on his pillow or blanket or something.

He can picture him on his knees in bed, ass up, chest down, dildo stuffed inside his body as far as it will go as he comes and comes and /comes/ across his sheets.

Kirishima isn’t too far behind, not caring about how rough the fabric of his underwear feels against his too dry cock. He’s hard and throbbing and can barely move his hand with how confined he still is, rutting against fist and couch,

looking for any form of friction as he chases after his orgasm wanting to keep up with Bakugou. There’s only another two minutes left. He wants to come, wants to make sure Bakugou’s the one that made him come.

He hears heavy panting, Bakugou easing himself down, and then the muffled groan as he can only assume the toy is pulled from his aching hole.

Bakugou in his ear laughs. “Wow, I’m gaping.”

Kirishima swallows thick, feeling his balls tighten.

“Bet none of you losers could ever make that happen.”

He groans, tensing.

“I’d have to take a fist to get anywhere.”

Comes, hard and heavy into his pants, underwear, face shoved into the cushions of his couch barely letting him breath.

Again, Bakugou laughs. “Night losers.”

---

Kirishima thinks about it. Dwells on it. Mind turning over the facts of that night in his head. How he was with Bakugou, how Bakugou immediately started to jerk off almost as soon as Kirishima left,

how he wondered what made him do that (me? Was it me? Could Bakugou possibly want--), how halfway through he thought of recording, and then posted the rough edit soon after so everyone could hear how beautiful he fell apart under his own hand.

Kirishima wants him so bad he gets dizzy with it.

He wants Bakugou to sit on his cock and call him pathetic, small, even as he rides it, even as it tears him apart and makes him moan and presses so far into his stomach that he can feel the tip of Kirishima’s cock in his throat.

He wants him so bad.

Kirishima gets desperate. Sloppy.

He fucks up.

He’s meeting up with Bakugou and some of their other friends at a bar. It’s been a long and busy week for everyone and Kirishima is looking forward to relaxing a bit. On the train over, he puts on a mild video--

one of the instructional videos, something that Bakugou is nicer in-- just to listen to for the last part of the ride. His headphones are in, no one around knows anything different, and he’s just using it to relax. Set the mood.

Pregame for when he gets home a little buzzed and horny from staring at Bakugou all night.

His stop comes up faster than he expected, shoving his phone into his pocket and jumping out quickly.

It’s not until he’s four drinks in that he even thinks about it.

Tipsy and flushed, Kirishima is having a good time, laughing with Sero and Mina and leaning heavily against Bakugou before the other man quickly shoves him off, nearly toppling him from the stool he’s sitting on.

They order another round and everyone will regret it in the morning, but right now they’re all warm and happy and just glad to be together.

“Here here,” Kirishima smiles, fumbling as he pulls out his phone once more leaning heavily against Bakugou. “You’ve gotta see Kaminari’s move here, the news captured it perfectly even you’d be impressed!”

Bakugou huffs, rolls his eyes, and Kirishima doesn’t think. Doesn’t do anything until he’s unlocking his phone, the first time since the train, since all night, and suddenly his screen is not on his home,

but on the blank shot video titled ‘JIV 8 - RELAX AND GET OFF’ that doesn’t play, but it’s enough when the phone is practically shoved in Bakugou’s face, his eyes going wide before Kirishima even notices and then he /does/

and suddenly he’s panicked, sober, snatching his phone back and darting off the stool, near falling, to run off to the bathroom.

Door closed, he panics. Door closed he falls to a crouch and screams into his hands and wants to smash his phone on the floor to pretend like this never happened.

Not a minute passes before the door is being pushed open, Kirishima stumbling to the bathroom floor with the force of it because he didn’t lock it and how fucking stupid--

And there stands Bakugou, staring down at him, glaring, and Kirishima’s never felt so small.

Bakugou locks the door behind him.

Kirishima can’t help when his dick jumps.

“Where the /fuck/ did you find that?!” Bakugou’s voice comes out in a hiss, angry, and Kirishima is immediately up on his knees trying to explain himself.

“I swear, swear, Bakugou I didn’t--”

“Gonna throw that shit back in my face or something?!”

“No!” Kirishima says, frantic. “I like it!”

Bakugou freezes.

Kirishima takes the opportunity to continue, trying to subdue Bakugou’s anger. “I like it. I found them by accident, but I’ve listened to all of them.”

He blinks. “All of them?”

Kirishima nods.

“...what’s your favorite?”

Kirishima can feel his entire face heat up. It’s one thing to admit it to yourself privately, but it’s another to admit it to the actual maker-- to his best friend staring down at him with a growing smile on his face that tugs at the corners, venturing on sadistic.

Kirishima turns his head down, biting his lip, unable to say anything.

But Bakugou knows.

He steps forward, crowing Kirishima on the floor before lifting his foot and pressing his heel down onto the crotch of Kirishima’s pants. It’s not all together hard, but with the overall pressure, the situation, it makes Kirishima moan.

He presses into it, wanting to grind his hard cock up against that foot, still unable to look at Bakugou.

Above him, Bakugou laughs.

“Who would have thought.” He pushes harder, meeting Kirishima’s want with a small rotation of his foot. “You want me to say how small it is too?”

Kirishima is rapidly nodding his head before he knows what he’s doing, whimpering as he lets out a small ‘please’ of confirmation.

“You /really/ want this?”

Again, Kirishima is nodding, pressing his hips up and trying to convey every ounce of want in his body without using words, unable to make his tongue work.

“Well,” Bakugou rolls his foot, feeling how the length below his heel fills out the jeans it's trapped in, thick and wanting. Anything but small. “Maybe I should take you home and see if this stupid little thing can satisfy me.”

Kirishima whines, jerking his hips, practically humping against Bakugou’s foot.

“Maybe you’ll get lucky and I’ll like you enough to let you have a taste of me tonight too.”

It’s too good, all together too good. Hearing Bakugou’s voice drop in real time, in real life, not over his phone or computer speakers, but right in front of him with his cocky smile and sharp eyes and the words burning heavy into Kirishima’s brain, he can’t help himself.

He’s felt like all these months have been leading up to this and he’s pent up and finally able to let go.

He does. Tears prickle at the corner of his eyes as his entire body shudders and he comes in his pants, right against Bakugou’s foot. He’s panting heavy, groaning, rocking his body into it, riding it out.

After, he slumps. He falls heavy against Bakugou’s thigh, mouth open, drooling into the thigh of his pant leg.

He hears Bakugou snicker, a hand moving to card through his hair.

“You seriously come that quickly just from my voice?”

Again, he nods, words still lost on him as he floats high above the bathroom walls riding his orgasm high.

The pulling on his hair brings him down quickly. Bakugou’s hand turns a little cruel as he pulls him, forcing him to finally look up, look at him, and can see the sight of his straining dick in his own pants before moving further to look him in the eyes, bright and burning.

Smiling wicked.

Kirishima thinks he might actually be in love.

“I think I can work with that.”

END.