Work Text:
-------- Spring --------
Kirishima asks Bakugou out in the beginning of April, when the flowers are blooming and the air is humid with the promise of an oncoming rain. It happens in the middle of an after school study session, sitting under the big tree in the courtyard outside their dorms. Bakugou is sitting up, textbook open on his lap and pencil stuck between his teeth, chewing idly at the eraser on the end.
The breeze blows, ruffling his blond hair, and Kirishima is lying on his stomach, head resting in his hands as he gazes up at the other teen. The sun is bright behind him, casting him in a halo, and it feels so damn surreal, so damn cliche , like every moment in every romance novel Kirishima has never read.
It feels right, and, though unplanned as it is, Kirishima can’t help it when he sighs, says,
“Go out with me?”
His voice sounds way dreamier then he was intending, but. He can’t help it, okay? Bakugou makes him feel warm, makes him feel like he’s in love (which, he very well might be, who knows). It’s a pleasant feeling, something Kirishima welcomes with open arms, and when Bakugou freezes, the pencil falling from his mouth only to bounce off his textbook and roll onto the grass, Kirishima stands his ground, his gaze unwavering, because he knows Bakugou, and he knows if he shows the slightest sign of hesitance, the slightest sign that he might not be one hundred percent sure of his words, Bakugou won’t take him seriously.
His eyes lock with Kirishima’s, and his hands look clammy where they’re drumming shakily on the glossy pages of his textbook. Kirishima wants to reach out and steady them, but he waits.
“Why,” Bakugou asks, and Kirishima would’ve thought the words were sharp if it wasn’t for the way his throat bobs as he swallows nervously.
Now, Kirishima isnt really prepared for this. He doesn’t have a speech, or anything of significance to try and convince Bakugou this is a good idea. He wasn’t even planning on asking Bakugou out (well, at least not until they graduated, maybe. If he ever got up the nerve), but. Well. It looks like his brain to mouth filter has significantly screwed him over, so he laughs shakily and sits up, sitting crossed legged in front of Bakugou so he can look at him eye-level.
“You…. you make me feel, uh” Kirishima scratches the back of his neck, searching for the right words here. “You make me feel... strong.”
There. That’s good. Because it’s true . Bakugou makes him feel like he can take on the whole world, if he really wanted to. Bakugou gives him strength, and pushes him to be the best version of himself he can be, and Kirishima cherishes that so fucking much it almost burns when he thinks about it.
“I like you a lot, dude,” Kirishima adds after a moment, and finally, finally , Bakugou gives him some sort of positive reaction.
His cheeks color, and his lips form a wobbly scowl, bordering on a pout, as he crosses his arms over his chest.
“You dumbass,” he mutters, the tips of his ears red. “You fucking dumbass .”
Kirishima grins bashfully, scooting a bit closer because he’s learned, over the years, the tone and the type of Bakugou’s insults.
And ‘dumbass’ means he’s done something right.
The flowers are bright in their bloomed state, clusters of them scattered in the courtyard, and the grass is cool and soft underneath his hands when he leans forward, balancing his weight towards Bakugou and trying not to grin like a damn fool.
Bakugou’s school blazer lies on the ground next to him, his button up rolled up to his elbows and shoes kicked off to the side, and he looks comfortable and relaxed save for the tenseness in his shoulders when Kirishima leans a bit closer. Kirishima keeps out of his space, for now, because this is new, for both of them, and he wants to take this at a good pace. At a slow pace, because Bakugou is important to him.
Really, really important.
Kirishima’s heart aches.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks.
Bakugou’s head jerks up to glare at him, and his wobbly scowl-pout is back. “No,” he bites out, and then he sighs. “Not… yet.”
Kirishima blinks at him. Nods.
Patience.
Bakugou looks determined all of a sudden, and his strong shoulders straighten out, looking broad and inviting in the halo of sun around him. There’s a bit of sweat on his forehead, a few pieces of hair sticking, and when he darts forward, placing an off center and too-dry kiss on Kirishima’s cheek, the redhead inhales sharply.
“Oh,” he breathes out.
“Just. Not fucking yet, okay?” Bakugou rolls his eyes, and then he picks up his pencil, wiping his sweaty hands on his knees before getting back to work. “Get back to work, idiot. If you don’t pass this next test with at least a B, I’m not gonna kiss you at all.”
Kirishima grins wide, offering a salute. “Yes, sir!”
His cheek tingles pleasantly where Bakugou’s lips were, and the breeze blows. It almost smells like rain.
--
“Is this okay?”
His voice is a whisper, and Bakugou doesn’t respond. It’s early, and the sun is just beginning to rise above the horizon. The grass sparkles with dew, and the flowers look just as beautiful as ever. He has an arm curled around Bakugou’s shoulders, and since they’re just about the same height, Bakugou has to slump down a bit so it’s comfortable.
“It’s fine,” Bakugou says after a moment. His voice sounds raspy, like he just woke up even though they’ve both been awake for hours, waiting for the day to begin. Kirishima lets out a shaky sigh.
The newness of the relationship is good. It’s fresh, like the spring, and it makes his hands tremble, it makes him want . He’s not really sure that what he’s doing is ‘right’, since he’s never dated anyone else before (save for some girl he sort of went out with in middle school for like, two days.) It’s okay, though, because Bakugou is equally as clueless.
He still hasn’t kissed Kirishima, and they’ve been going out for about three weeks now. Kirishima’s perfectly content with waiting, because it’s worth it . Definitely. Completely, one hundred percent worth every restraint he has, holding himself back from gathering Bakugou in his arms and kissing him breathless.
The reason they’re up so early has fallen blank to Kirishima. Bakugou has trouble staying asleep sometimes, but he’s never told Kirishima why.
“We’re dating now,” Bakugou had said with finality. “So if I have to fuckin’ suffer, I’m gonna make you suffer with me.”
Kirishima secretly thinks Bakugou just doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, and Kirishima is happy to take those thoughts away from him, if only temporarily.
“I can’t wait for summer,” Kirishima sighs after a moment, squeezing Bakugou closer to him. He eyes the damp ground, and though it’s not cold outside, the wetness in the air is a bit chilly for this early in the morning. “I’m tired of all the rain.”
“It rains in the summer too, you idiot,” Bakugou mumbles, and when he sinks down a bit to rest his head on Kirishima’s shoulder, Kirishima has to physically restrain himself from squirming happily.
“I like the summer rain, though,” Kirishima says. “It’s warm.”
“Whatever.”
Kirishima finally gives into temptation, and kisses the crown of Bakugou’s head, blond hair tickling his nose.
“You’re so gross.” Bakugou hunches in on himself, but doesn’t pull away. The tips of his ears are red, Kirishima notices.
“Haha, sorry.” Kirishima’s not sorry at all.
“My mom wants to meet you,” Bakugou blurts out, and his leg starts bouncing unconsciously.
Kirishima’s eyes widen. “Oh?”
“She’s fuckin’ nosy as hell,” Bakugous grumbles. He sits up a bit, and Kirishima lets his arm fall to the back of the bench off of Bakugou’s shoulders. “You don’t have to if - ”
“I want to!” Kirishima grins. “I wanna meet all of the important people in your life!”
“God, how the fuck - how can you just say shit like that?” Bakugou says, and when he runs a hand over his face, Kirishima’s sees his fingers tremble.
“Because it’s true?” Kirishima says, genuinely confused. “You mean a lot to me, dude.”
“Fuck,” Bakugou hisses, “”God fuckin’ - shit. ”
“Uh,” Kirishima laughs nervously. “Are you oka - ”
He’s cut off when Bakugou surges forward suddenly, and a pair of lips press to his own. It’s completely off center, and a little wet because Kirishima just licked his lips. Bakugou’s hands are clammy where they’re squishing Kirishima’s cheeks together.
Something warm flutters around in Kirishima’s belly, and when Bakugou pulls back, scowl on his face but eyes oddly vulnerable, Kirishima’s face melts into a grin so wide the sun can’t even compete.
Bakugou glares. “Don’t fucking look at me like that.”
“ Bakugou ,” Kirishima breathes. Bakugou’s hands are still cupping his face, and Kirishima brings a hand up to place it over Bakugou’s own. “Do it again?”
“Don’t push your fucking luck, shitty hair,” Bakugou grumbles, but he leans forward eagerly because Kirishima can tell he wants this just as badly.
This time, when their lips meet, it’s at the perfect angle, and Kirishima snakes his arms around Bakugou’s waist to hold him close, in his arms, exactly as he’s wanted to do for as long as he’s known the other teen. Bakugou feels solid in his hold, and when the blonde sighs shakily against Kirishima’s mouth, Kirishima squeezes his eyes shut with the onslaught of emotions wiggling around in his body.
Oh man, it’s good . It feels like he’s been parched for months and this is his first sip of water in ages. He parts his lips a bit, bringing a hand up to thumb along Bakugou’s jaw and coax him to do the same, and when their tongues brush, Bakugou actually shivers in his arms.
Kirishima nearly whimpers.
They pull back when the sun starts to shine in their eyes, and when Kirishima sees Bakugou’s face, kiss swollen lips and cheeks dusted rose, he can’t help it when he darts forward again, mumbling against Bakugou’s lips,
“Thank you.”
Bakugou shoves him in the shoulder. “The fuck you have to thank me for?”
Kirishima beams. “I dunno. Kissing me? Dating me? Wanting me to meet your mom?”
“Don’t thank me for that shit,” Bakugou growls, standing up. “C’mon, we have to get ready for class.”
He holds out his hand, and Kirishima happily reaches out to weave their fingers together as he’s tugged back to their dorms. The wetness of the grass brushes against his ankles, and the sun is a soothing warmth against his back as it gravitates up into the sky.
-------- Summer --------
“Get the fuck off of me,” Bakugou growls, shoving Kirishima away when the redhead tries to snake an arm around his waist.
“C’mon,” Kirishima whines. “I just want be close to you!”
“Go be close to me over there,” Bakugou huffs, shoving Kirishima to the other side of the couch when he tries to slide into his space again. “It’s too fucking hot, you absolute moron.”
He’s kind of right, Kirishima supposes. It’s late August, and even the air conditioning in the dorms isn’t enough to cool anyone off. Kirishima feels sticky with sweat in his tank top and shorts, and he knows Bakugou isn’t faring any better.
“Aww, but look at Todoroki and Midoriya! They’re cuddling!”
On the other side of the room, Midoriya is curled up under Todoroki’s arm, and the taller teen is currently blowing ice crystals onto Midoriya’s little face, his cheeks lifting in a grin and eyes squinted happily. Todoroki is staring at him fondly, and it’s unfairly fucking adorable. Kirishima pouts at them before turning back to his own boyfriend.
Bakugou rolls his eyes at Kirishima’s pointed stare. “Half ’n half has a fucking ice quirk, you idiot. ”
“If I get some ice from the kitchen will you - ”
“Oh, my god,” Bakugou sighs, running a hand over his face, and Kirishima grins when he slides closer. Kirishima goes to reach out again, but Bakugou stops him with a quick glare. “ No .”
But then Bakugou slides his hand across the cushions, and grips Kirishima’s hand a bit roughly. His palm is warm and sticky with sweat, as is the rest of him probably, but Kirishima just eases Bakugou’s grip as he twines their fingers together. Holding hands with Bakugou is always good, no matter the amount of perspiration between them.
Besides, Bakugou’s practically always sweaty. Kirishima’s used to it, and uh. Maybe kind of digs it a little? Possibly?
--
Yeah, okay, Kirishima definitely digs it.
There’s something so fucking sexy about the way Bakugou’s body drips with sweat after a sparring session, or during their morning jogs together.
But it’s even sexier now, with him sprawled against the sheets of Kirishima’s dorm bed. It’s two in the morning, and neither of them can sleep because the AC went out in the dorms completely and has yet to be fixed. Bakugou can’t sleep if he’s too warm, and Kirishima can’t sleep if Bakugou can’t sleep because Bakugou makes sure to sneak into his dorm and bother him for reluctant company so he doesn’t have to suffer an all nighter alone.
Kirishima is more than okay with that, especially when it turns into Bakugou climbing into his lap in just his boxers and kissing him out of his grogginess.
During the day, in public, Bakugou treats their relationship carefully. He’s a bit more hesitant, and a bit more flustered about it. He lets Kirishima hold his hand, but kissing in front of their friends is off limits. Kirishima respects that, because he always gets his affection once the doors are closed and they have their privacy, but still.
It’s always Kirishima initiating, offering encouraging, eager smiles as he eases Bakugou into curling up against him while watching a movie in the common room with their friends, or linking pinkies under the table at lunch time.
At night though, Bakugou’s the one initiating. It’s as if the blanket of darkness, and the stifling air of the summer evening makes him throw his hesitance out the window and get exactly what he wants.
His hands tremble as they slip against Kirishima’s shoulder, and okay. He’s still obviously a little nervous, sometimes. It’s uncharacteristically cute, and Kirishima grins when he pushes Bakugou’s sweat-damp hair off of his forehead. The blond locks stick up wildly, when Kirishima pulls his hand back, and Bakugou’s chest heaves as he arches his hips up, grinding his cock against Kirishima’s.
“Touch me,” Bakugu rasps. Kirishima leans down and kisses the sweat off his upper lip, salty and warm. He licks down Bakugou’s chest, and he’s so slick . They both are, and it’s almost suffocating how hot it is right now in this tiny room, but the heat feels good. It’s making him a bit delirious, and Kirishima pants as he licks at the sweat around Bakugou’s navel.
The blond huffs out a breath and squirms. “Fuckin’ - Kirishima,” he very nearly whines. He lifts his hand up to wipe his forehead, and Kirishima is grossly tempted to shove his face under Bakugou’s arm. He smells so fucking good , like heat and pinewood and salt. Kirishima groans, because Bakugou and his stupid goddamn sweat has turned into something out of his control, and his dick twitches when Bakugou wipes his sweaty palm all across Kirishima’s cheek.
Kirishima whines, dropping his face down to the crease of Bakugou’s thigh, nosing at the sticky warm skin there. Bakugou’s boxers have long since been removed, and his cock curves up, hard and shining at the tip where a bead of precome lies.
Kirishima wants to lick it, so he does, and Bakugou keens .
He’s always so beautifully sensitive, and though they’ve only done this a few times so far, it never, ever gets old. Kirishima has learned that he kind of really, really likes sucking cock.
Bakugou certainly isn’t complaining, either.
“C’mon,” he pants, hooking his legs over Kirishima’s shoulders. “ C’mon.”
“Shh,” Kirishima says, because it’s the middle of the night, and the dorm walls aren’t as sound proof as one might think. The whole class already knows they’re together, of course, but that still doesn’t make it any less embarrassing if they were to know about these… other activities.
It’s hard though, because Bakugou is pretty vocal during sex, and Kirishima practically gets off on just his voice alone, but he can’t fully indulge because they have to be quiet .
“Here,” Kirishima says, reaching behind him and grabbing the tank top he was wearing a few moments ago. He tosses it up to Bakugou’s face, and Kirishima gives him a grin when the blonde furrows his brows in confusion. “Bite on that.”
Before Bakugou can yell at him, Kirishima’s sucking him down to the base, swallowing around him and causing Bakugou to shove the fabric of the sweaty tank top in his mouth and cry out. It’s muffled, but not by much. It’ll have to do, Kirishima thinks, pulling up only to bob his head back down again, nearly gagging when he feels Bakugou’s cock hit the back of his throat.
He tastes good , heady and thick, salty with precome and sweat, and Kirshima inhales deeply when he buries his nose into the patch of blond hair at the base of Bakugou’s cock.
Oh jesus . His own arousal is hard enough to cut fucking diamonds, he swears. And Bakugou’s making these high, keening little noises as he gnaws at the tank top in his mouth, his heels kicking into Kirishima’s back as he hips arch up into the delicious heat of Kirishima’s mouth.
A hand darts down to fist his hair, and Kirishima moans appreciatively, the vibrations causing Bakugou’s toes to curl and a sob to rip from his throat.
Kirishima pulls off for a moment, pumping his hand up and down a few times because he needs to see Bakugou’s face, head thrown back against the pillows.
“Good?” Kirishima rasps, his throat raw, and Bakugou angles his head down to glare at him, snarling around the fabric between his teeth. His eyes are shiny wet, his body dripping in sweat, and Kirishima’s free hand slips against Bakugou’s thigh when he grips the muscle there tightly.
Bakugou pants through his nose, his cheeks a ruddy pink, and Kirishima licks up the length of his cock languidly. “Tell me,” Kirishima pleads.
“Fuck - shit,” Bakugou growls, lowering the tank top from his mouth and heaving a breath. His gaze darts away, and Kirishima makes a noise, stern, until Bakugou looks back at him hesitantly.
“How does it feel?” Kirishima murmurs.
“It - fuck… fuck , it feels good,” Bakugou breathes shakily. “Feels so fuckin’ good , Kirishima, your fuckin’ mouth - ah, sh-shit!”
Kirishima flicks his tongue over the slit, tasting the bitterness there, and he reaches down to palm himself through his boxers when Bakugou whimpers.
Bakugou cards a hand through Kirishima’s own sweaty mess of hair, and then he bites his lip, trying to glare but failing in his desperation as he begs, “ Please …. fuck, don’t stop .”
So, Kirishima doesn’t stop.
-------- Autumn--------
The wind isn’t biting yet, but it’s getting close. Especially the nights, where the temperature drops low and Kirishima can feel the first taste of winter just around the corner.
It’s absolutely beautiful during the day, though. Chilly enough to need a light jacket or sweater, but not too terribly cold that it’s miserable. Also, it’s hat weather now, so Kirishima gets to see Bakugou in all of the cute knitted beanies he owns. His ears get cold easily, Bakugou had explained to him last year, so as soon as the temperature begins dropping after summer ends, he has to take measures lest he be cold and miserable for the rest of the year.
The coffee shop door rings when he enters, and Kirishima scans the few customers lingering until his eyes land on a familiar blond sitting in the corner booth. He grins, because Bakugou’s wearing the slouchy grey skater beanie that Sero had gotten him for Christmas last year, and as he walks closer, he can see the thin wire framed glasses Bakugou has perched on the tip of his nose.
Bakugou doesn’t really need glasses, except for when he’s studying or doing work for long periods of time because he doesn’t want to strain his eyes. His glasses usually only come out during midterms or finals, so Kirishima has to soak it in while he has it.
“Did you order anything yet?” Kirishima asks as he slides into the booth, and Bakugou shoots him a quick look before glancing back down to his open textbook.
“No.”
“Did you want something?” Kirishima asks, already standing back up to head to the counter. “I know you’re trying not to drink caffeine and stuff. Maybe a hot cocoa?”
Bakugou purses his lips and grumbles something in affirmation without looking up, and Kirishima bounds over to the counter, ordering himself a caramel latte, and a large hot cocoa with extra whipped cream for Bakugou.
His boyfriend will never say it out loud, but Kirishima is definitely aware of his massive sweet tooth.
When he returns, Bakugou’s biting at the end of his pen thoughtfully, his face softened as he reads the passage in front of him. His blond hair sticks out of the beanie messily, and Kirishima hates the way his heart skips a beat at the sight. They’ve been dating over half a year now, but the butterflies still haven’t faded. It makes Kirishima feel like a middle schooler with a crush, but the feeling is refreshing, and when Kirishima slides back into the booth, he can’t help it when he leans over the table and kisses the corner of Bakugou’s pouting lips.
“Here ya go,” Kirishima smiles, relishing in the way that Bakugou’s cheeks color so easily. “I got you extra whipped cream.”
Bakugou snatches the drink, but he seems less… explosive, today. He hasn’t shot out any insults or anything, though fond as they may be. And he’s less talkative, too. It must be because of the test coming up, and Kirishima knows Bakugou is smart, but he also knows Bakugou’s a perfectionist, and has an unhealthy and uncontrollable need to be number one in the class.
If staying up for a week straight would guarantee him perfect marks, he would do it without hesitation, no matter the hit it could take to his health.
“Hey,” Kirishima says after a few minutes of Bakugou still not speaking, or even touching his hot cocoa. “You’re gonna do fine on the test!”
Bakugou glances up then, his glasses perched on the end of his nose. He glares. “I fucking know that , asshole.”
Kirishima just softens his grin. “I know you know. Just…. try not to be so hard on yourself, okay?”
Bakugou grumbles. “I should be hard on you , dipshit. Have you even been studying at all for the test tomorrow?”
Kirishima laughs shamefully and rubs the back of his neck. “Uh. I was gonna study today? Right now? Here with you? I swear!”
Bakugou rolls his eyes, kicking Kirishima in the shin. “Then get your shit out. Tell me what the fuck your scattered brain is having issues with.”
He takes a sip of his hot cocoa, and a smear of whipped cream coats his upper lip. It’s stupidly cliche, but Kirishima finds himself reaching out, brushing his thumb to wipe it away, and Bakugou freezes when Kirishima brings his thumb back to his mouth to lick the cream off.
Bakugou blinks at him, scrunching up his nose in distaste. “I hate you.”
“I like you, too,” Kirishima teases, hooking their ankles together under the table.
Bakugou, blissfully, doesn’t pull away.
--
Kirishima is the first one to Recovery Girl’s office when he hears that Bakugou had gotten caught up with a villain today while on patrol.
Recovery girl, surprisingly, doesn't protest when he asks to come in (she usually doesn’t really like too many visitors flooding her space). Kirishima figures he must’ve looked desperate enough, or maybe she just felt sorry for him, but she motions Kirishima in without a word.
“Is he okay?” Kirishima asks, wringing his hands together.
“Of course he’s okay, boy,” she responds, rolling her eyes. “But.. he really needs to stop overworking himself. You are all so young, and your bodies are fragile. Do not take it for granted.”
Kirishima winces, because though he doesn’t know exactly what happened, he knows that Bakugou was a little out of his league with this villain. Bakugou should’ve stepped back and let the pros handle it, or at least have acknowledged when things were getting too much. Knowing Bakugou, he probably just forced explosion after explosion from his hands even though the villain wasn’t showing any signs of wear. Kirishima is well aware of how Bakugou over exerts himself, and hurts himself. Breaking himself down into dust just to win .
Winning is important as a hero, but so is knowing your limits. Bakugou knows his limits, he just consistently chooses to ignore them.
The window of Recovery Girl’s office is cracked open, and the fresh, crisp fall air outside is definitely welcome. Kirishima pulls a chair up to Bakugou’s bedside, eyes raking over his sleeping face, his chest rising and falling with each breath. He looks like a mess, bruises and scratches along his cheeks, blood crusted at the corner of his mouth. There’s tight compresses around his forearms, and Kirishima winces when he thinks about how hard Bakugou probably had to push himself to get to this point.
“You’re strong,” Kirishima whispers, running a hand through Bakugou’s disheveled hair, “But you’re not invincible.”
“Mm,” Bakugou grumbles, but he keeps his eyes closed. His words are slurred when he speaks, “Loser’s words.”
Kirishima chuckles bitterly. “No, survivors words.”
“I survived, didn’t I?” Bakugou peeks his eyes open. He looks tired, and Recovery Girl must’ve really done a number on accelerating his healing because the cuts across Bakugou’s brow are nearly invisible now.
Kirishima sighs. “Yes, you did, but - ”
“Don’t tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing.”
Kirishima wrings his hands together, tears of frustration stinging his eyes because okay, that’s true . If he was the one who ran into this villain, Kirishima would’ve probably destroyed his own body in order to protect and save. He can’t be a hypocrite, but that doesn’t mean he can’t still worry because his boyfriend almost died today.
“We haven’t even been dating for a year yet, dude. You can’t die before our anniversary, okay?”
Bakugou’s cheeks flush, and he pouts a bit. “Shut up.”
Kirishima leans down, pressing a fleeting kiss to his cheek. “You should sleep.”
He makes to get up, but a tug on his shirt has him sitting back down, glancing curiously at Bakugou.
“You…” Bakugou starts. He takes a breath, tightening his hold on Kirishima’’s shirt. “You don’t have to go.”
Kirishima brightens. “You want me to stay?”
“I never said that.”
“Scoot over!”
“Recovery Girl’s gonna kick your ass out.”
“C’mon, babe, scoot over!”
Bakugou growls when Kirishima slips in next to him, but as soon as Kirishima has a familiar arm wrapped around Bakugou’s shoulder, Bakugou snuggles in closer, tucking his face into Kirishima’s neck and weaving their legs together.
“Are you hurt really bad anywhere?” Kirishima whispers into Bakugou’s hair.
“Nothing that can’t be fixed,” Bakugou replies, sighing and finally letting himself fully relax.
“I’m not sure how I’m gonna handle you getting hurt all the time once we do become actual pros,” Kirishima sighs after a moment of silence, because just the thought of Bakugou fighting villains like the one today, except every day , well, “I don’t know if my heart can handle it, man.”
“You’re gonna get fucking hurt too, you realize that?” Bakugou grunts. “You think I’m gonna be able to handle it any better?”
Kirishima doesn’t respond, because there’s nothing else he can really say in order to soothe both of their consciences. Being a hero isn't easy, and it’s not safe . It will never be safe, no matter how good they get with their quirks and no matter how powerful they think they are. There’s going to be days where they come home with injuries, with deaths from the unsavable on their minds. With trauma and with hurt.
Kirishima holds Bakugou closer, kissing his temple and closing his eyes. He’s going to do what he can to keep Bakugou safe, and he knows Bakugou will do the same for him.
Bakugou fists the front of Kirishima’s shirt, a wordless response, I’m here, I’m alive .
Kirishima tilts Bakugou’s face up, kissing his split lip, crusted over with blood.
I know .
-------- Winter --------
Dating Bakugou in the winter is significantly different than dating Bakugou in the summer, Kirishima discovers.
Summer Bakugou is energetic and brash, loud and present. It’s a push and pull, it’s warm sticky nights of lips pressed to necks and hands like fire singeing each other’s skin. It’s pinkies hooked underneath the table and shoulders bumping but not quite lined up together.
It’s fleeting, but remarkable, and Kirishima loves it.
But dating Bakugou in the winter? That’s a whole different game.
At first, Kirishima thinks Bakugou’s sick or something, because the first day that the temperature finally falls below thirty, frost appearing on their windows and signalling the end of autumn, Bakugou actually climbs into his lap when he’s sitting on the couch.
In front of all of their friends.
Now, Kirishima is all for PDA. He doesn’t have a problem with it at all, and sometimes even laments the fact that Bakugou doesn’t let him be as affectionate publicly as much as he really wants to. But he knows how much Bakugou is hesitant with it, so when he curls up silently on Kirishima’s lap, hunching into a small ball and tucking his head underneath Kirishima’s chin, Kirishima freezes in shock, his eyes wide and pleading as he scans the room to make sure everyone else is seeing this, because what the hell, are you guys seeing this?
“Oi,” Bakugou mumbles, his nose cold where is brushes along Kirishima’s collarbone. “Put your fucking arms around me.”
“Put my - oh, yeah! Right! Of course,” Kirishima stutters, quickly wrapping two strong arms around Bakugou’s body. The blond is in a hoodie and sweats, and a pair of thick warm looking socks. He’s a nice weight in Kirishima’s lap, and the redhead bites his lip as everyone around them shrugs before going back to whatever movie they're all watching.
“Hey, are…. are you okay?” Kirishima whispers after a moment, because Bakugou’s completely silent, and for a second Kirishima thinks he might have fallen asleep.
“No, I’m not,” Bakugou murmurs agitatedly, “I’m fucking freezing . Has anyone at this school heard of a goddamn heater? For fuck’s sake.”
And oooh. Okay. Kirishima gets it.
Bakugou’s not sick . He’s just a baby to the cold.
Kirishima grins and squeezes Bakugou tighter, slowly rubbing up and down his sides. “Better?”
“Mm,” Bakugou hums, because the cold not only makes him more cuddly, it also makes him more pliant and sleepy, it seems. “A little.”
“I know of a few other ways you can warm him up!” Kaminari shouts from across the room, and Kirishima rolls his eyes, blushing and holding Bakugou tighter.
“Fuck off, Sparky,” Bakugou grumbles, but his words are soft and a little muffled because his face is currently turned down into the collar of his hoodie, and soon his head tilts to the side to tuck under Kirishima’s chin, cheek pressed against the redhead’s chest.
And oh god, Bakugou is so cute . Like, of course Kirishima is aware of that fact already, but sometimes he’s just viciously reminded about it. Like right now, when Bakugou tucks his hands up under his chin, fingers curled over his too-long sleeves to stay warm. His nose looks a little pink, and damn, he really is cold, huh?
“Hey,” Kirishima whispers, and when Bakugou tilts his head up, Kirishima kisses the tip of his nose.
Bakugou glares at him, reaches up to tug his hood further over his eyes, and then angrily shoves his face back into Kirishima’s chest.
“Aww,” Mina says from her place on the other end of the couch. “Who knew Bakugou was such a cuddle bug?”
“I’m not.”
“You kind of are,” Kirishima chuckles, and when Bakugou makes to get up, Kirishima tightens his hold and pulls him more against his chest. “Hey, no, don’t leave!”
“If you’re just gonna be a dick - ”
“I’m not, I’m sorry!” Kirishima reassures, and when Bakugou relaxes back into his lap, Kirishima breathes a happy sigh.
The rest of the group goes back to watching the television, and Kirishima is delighted to find out an hour later that Bakugou has fallen asleep against him.
Dating Bakugou in the winter is a lot different than dating him during the summer, and Kirishima can tell that he’s going to have a soft spot for this specific time of the year from now on.
--
“ Fuck ,” Bakugou pants, and when Kirishima shifts, the covers almost slip down, “Hey, fuckin’ watch it, don’t - ah - don’t let the heat out.”
Kirishima picks his head up from where he’s buried between his boyfriend’s legs. It’s dark, the duvet completely covering them, and it’s a little suffocating under here but it’s not horrible. Besides, Kirishima has Bakugou’s legs tossed over his shoulders, hands clawing at his hair, shoving Kirishima’s head back down, so the suffocation is worth it, really.
Kirishima ducks back down, spreading Bakugou’s cheeks and licking over his hole, working his tongue in and eating him out so thoroughly his jaw nearly cramps. The sounds Bakugou’s making are going straight to Kirishima dick, holy shit. Bakugou sounds like he’s dying , and he keeps mewling these little moans and cries as he grinds into Kirishima’s mouth.
Kirishima pulls back again. “Are ya warmer now, babe?”
“Almost,” Bakugou sighs, pressing his heels into Kirishima’s back. “G-Get back down there, fucker.”
“Yes, sir.”
Kirishima works a couple fingers in along side his tongue, and Bakugou keens, his back arching and breaths coming up short. His cock twitches against his stomach, and his hands tug restlessly at Kirishima’s hair. “Fuck. Fuck, Eijirou - fuck me, c’mon, get in me.”
When Kirishima finally slides in, Bakugou groans and winds his arms around Kirishima’s shoulders, pulling him down so they’re chest to chest. Its intimate, being pressed so closely like this, and Kirishima slowly grinds his hips, fucking deep into Bakugou, so deep that he wonders, if he looked down, if he’d be able to see himself moving inside of the blonde.
“Oh, god,” Bakugou groans. “Fuck - yes.”
Kirishima’s eyes have adjusted to the darkness here under the covers, and the heat is gradually building, sweat beading up on his forehead with every slow roll of his hips. He’s keeping it steady, keeping it as a nice gradual build, because he’s comfortable and doesn’t really want Bakugou to stop writhing up against him like he’s doing now.
“Faster,” Bakugou commands, clawing at Kirishima’s back.
“No,” Kirishima purrs, licking up Bakugou’s neck. “I wanna do you slow.”
“Mm,” Bakugou hums, wrapping his legs around Kirishima’ waist. “Fine, whatever just - fucking hold me , okay?”
“Of course, yea,” Kirishima laughs, wrapping his arms underneath Bakugou in order to envelope him completely in his arms, pressing Bakugou tight against his body, caging him in as he rocks his hips down, thrusting out these panting gasps of breath from Bakugou’s mouth.
They’re one year anniversary is in a couple months, and Kirishima’s been thinking a lot on what he wants to do about it. Bakugou’s told him multiple times that he doesn’t want some big thing, he doesn’t want flowers or a dinner date or any of that ‘mushy bull crap’.
Kirishima’s kind of at a loss, and he wonders briefly if Bakugou has anything planned.
Bakugou’s hands, clammy with sweat, fumble to cup Kirishima’s face, reeling him in for a kiss, and Kirishima can feel Bakugou’s nipples rub against his own chest when he fucks him harder.
Outside of the covers, the air is bitingly cold, and Kirishima knows they’re going to have to clean up after this lest they wake up a fucking mess, but. Well. Leaving the confines of their warm little tent right here is the last thing he wants to think about. Bakugou is arching against him, licking into his mouth like he yearns for it, and Kirishima opens up for him easily, splaying his palms against Bakugou’s back like a brand.
“Gonna cum,” Bakugou hisses, reaching a hand down to fist his own cock in time with Kirishima’s thrusts. “Oh - fuck, fucking hell, Eijirou, you’re s-so fuckin’ deep.”
Bakugou clenches around him, and Kirishima noses along his jaw, nipping at his cheek. “Katsuki, baby - god yea, just like that - ”
Kirishima comes with a shout, biting down onto Bakugou’s shoulder to muffle himself poorly, and Bakugou is quick to follow, a few more pumps of his hand before he’s tipping over the edge, making a mess between their bodies.
“Uhg,” Bakugou says, “I don’t want to leave the bed.”
“We have to clean up,” Kirishima chuckles. “C’mon.”
“No. It’s fucking cold out there.”
“I’ll wrap you up in a blanket and carry you all the way to the showers if I have to.”
“Okay.”
Kirishima blinks. “Wait - really? You’ll let me blanket burrito you and carry you?”
Bakugou glares. “I’m not about to fuckin’ walk my ass out there where it’s cold, so.”
“God,” Kirishima sighs, sinking against Bakugou. “I love the winter. Oh, also, did you have anything you wanted to do for our anniversary?”
“I don’t care,” Bakugou says, shuffling a bit. His cheeks color, though, and he tugs lightly at Kirishima’s hair. “Whatever you wanna do, I guess.”
“Whatever I want?”
Bakugou glares. “No flowers.”
Kirishima laughs, kissing Bakugou’s cheek, right below his eye. “Deal.”
In a few months, winter will melt into spring finally, and then spring will fade into autumn. Autumn will freeze over into yet another brutal winter, and then the cycle will repeat. Another year will pass, and another year Kirishima can add to his time with Bakugou. He’s not quite sure what the future holds, but he knows that as long as Bakugou is here with him, he’ll be able to handle whatever new experiences are thrown at him.
Soon, an entire year will have passed since he first confessed to Bakugou.
Kirishima can’t wait for the many more years to follow.