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Class 1-A had decided to go all out for every birthday this year, knowing it would be their last time celebrating together. Bakugo’s turn was no exception. The common area of Heights Alliance was decked out with orange and green streamers, a lopsided grenade-shaped cake (that still tasted delicious), and strings of fairy lights casting a soft, warm glow across the room. The long dinner table groaned under platters of grilled meats, mapo tofu, katsudon, and every other delicacy imaginable.
Bakugo sat at the head of the table, scowling at everyone who came close- but he had allowed Mina to put a paper birthday hat on him, and even said the cake tasted “not horrible”- which basically meant he was enjoying the party immensely. Kirishima sat right beside him as usual, his thigh pressed casually against Bakugo’s under the table.
Kirishima’s heart hammered in his chest. He had a wicked plan for tonight, but even he felt nervous about pulling it off. He had made a promise to himself- and to the man who had been whispering filthy requests into his ear for months.
“In public. A little riskier. Where anyone could catch us.”
Bakugo had never been shy about asking for what he wanted, and he had certainly not been shy about this particular request. He’d gasped it against Kirishima’s neck during late-night make-out sessions, moaned it while they were tangled in sheets, and even brought it up casually while having breakfast. Kirishima had hesitated for a long time- it would be mortifying if they were caught, no matter how slim the chance. Frankly, he was surprised that cautious, prideful Bakugo craved something so risky.
But tonight, Kirishima was finally ready to give him exactly what he’d been begging for. It was his special day, after all.
He started slow. Under the table, his left hand rested on Bakugo’s knee, thumb brushing in a lazy circle over his sweatpants. Perfectly innocent. Bakugo didn’t even notice, deeply engrossed in a debate with Sero about which quirk would be more helpful in a firefighting situation. But when Kirishima’s fingers slid higher, pressing into the firm muscle of his thigh, Bakugo’s chopsticks paused halfway to his mouth.
Kirishima felt the tiny jolt in his leg, the sudden tension. Bakugo continued to talk to Sero, voice laced with the faintest strain that Kirishima was sure only he could hear. His hand crept higher, palm flattening against the soft fabric, thumb stroking slow and deliberate along the seam of Bakugo’s pants. He teased his waistband, snapping it as quietly as he could.
Bakugo’s sharp ruby eyes flicked sideways for a second, narrowing in warning. What the fuck are you doing, Shitty Hair? Kirishima practically heard him say. But Kirishima didn’t take his hand away, and Bakugo didn’t shove it off. Instead, his thighs parted just a fraction, like his body was betraying him before his mind could catch up.
Kirishima’s cock twitched hard in his own pants at the sight. He traced the growing outline in Bakugo’s sweatpants with feather-light touches, then suddenly slipped his hand inside, pressing his palm directly against flushed, bare skin.
Bakugo’s fork clattered loudly against his plate. He quickly covered it with a cough, grabbing his water and taking a large gulp. His cheeks flushed that gorgeous shade of pink Kirishima loved, high on his cheekbones and slowly creeping down his neck. The hand under the table curled into a fist on his thigh, knuckles whitening, but he didn’t stop Kirishima. If anything, he shifted in his seat, hips rocking forward just enough to press into his touch.
“You good, Bakugo?” Kaminari called from across the table, mouth stuffed with ramen.
Bakugo could only nod mutely- Kirishima suspected that if he attempted to articulate anything right now it would come out as an embarrassing whimper. His cock jumped under Kirishima’s palm at the same moment, hot and heavy. Kirishima rewarded him with a slow stroke, fingers curling around his length and giving a gentle squeeze before pulling back to tease the sensitive head.
All the while, Kirishima watched carefully as Bakugo’s free hand gripped the edge of the table so hard the wood nearly splintered. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, eyes fluttering for a moment before he forced them back onto his plate. His flush deepened. He nodded and frowned at all the right moments in the conversation surrounding him, but Kirishima noticed- the way his chest was rising faster, the way his thighs were trembling just slightly, the way he was constantly swallowing like his throat had gone dry.
Kirishima reached for a plate of rice across from Bakugo, using it as a pretense to lean in. “Is this what you wanted?” he murmured, brushing the tip of Bakugo’s ear.
Bakugo’s breath stuttered. His eyes snapped to Kirishima’s, wide and dark and furious with arousal, a look that went straight to Kirishima’s dick. He kept his expression easy, laughing at something Mina was saying, but his hand continued its careful work. Slow circles now, thumb pressing right under the head, precum starting to soak through the fabric in a small, telling wet spot. He made sure his strokes were very deliberate- just enough to make Bakugo’s hips twitch, then easing off just as his thighs started to shake.
Despite his own nerves, Kirishima was thoroughly enjoying this. Watching Bakugo struggle to hold himself together while falling apart under his fingers reminded him all over again how special this man was to him. How lucky he was that Bakugo would show this side of himself to him. How much the blond trusted him, and loved him.
The night dragged on, ice cream was brought out for everyone, a second off-key rendition of the birthday song was sung, someone tried to get a game of truth or dare going. All the while, Kirishima kept him on the edge. Fingers dipping under his waistband when no one was looking, brushing bare skin. A hand snaking into the back of his pants to squeeze his ass while they posed for a group photo. Bakugo’s reactions were priceless- jaw clenched painfully tight, pupils blown wide, breath coming in short, and a glare that didn’t reach his eyes at all. Every time he thought he might tip over, Kirishima pulled back, leaving him aching and desperate.
By the time the last classmate had stumbled off to bed, it was almost midnight, the common area lights dimmed to a soft glow and the tables cleared. Bakugo was an obvious wreck. His dick was rock-hard, straining obscenely against his pants, which were dark with precum. His face was flushed dark pink, lips red and swollen from how hard he’d bitten them, eyes glassy with frustration.
Kirishima waited to hear the final elevator ding to confirm they were alone- but before he could so much as utter a word, Bakugo pounced on him, sending them both crashing onto the couch.
“Whoa, whoa, what’s gotten into you?” Kirishima grinned, knowing damn well what’d gotten into him.
Bakugo ignored him, already yanking at Kirishima’s shirt with impatient speed. Kirishima was reminded once again just how stunning his boyfriend was- pale skin, lean muscle, so strong yet so beautifully vulnerable on top of him. The most perfect man in the world.
“The fuck was all that?” Bakugo rasped, taking his own shirt off.
“You asked for it, didn’t you?” Kirishima replied, helping him with one swift motion. Then he sat up, flipping their positions so he could tower over Bakugo. His lips found the blond’s neck, grazing the sensitive skin. “Risky. Where anyone could see just how pretty you look falling apart for me.”
He yanked Bakugo’s pants down in one rough motion, freeing his cock, flushed and dripping. Kirishima wrapped a hand around it immediately, stroking slowly, once, twice…
“Fuck, Ei, can you just-” Bakugo’s voice broke as his hips jerked forward into the fist, chasing the friction he’d been denied for hours.
Kirishima didn’t let him have it. He pulled his hand away, now slick with precum, and slid his fingers down to Bakugo’s hole. “Not so fast, birthday boy.” Without warning, he pushed one finger inside. Bakugo’s back arched sharply off the couch, one hand flying to his face to muffle the moan threatening to escape.
Kirishima worked him open slowly, crooking his finger just right until he found the spot that made Bakugo’s knees buckle.
“More,” Bakugo demanded, voice hoarse. “Stop fucking teasing-”
Kirishima added a second finger, scissoring gently while his other hand traced over Bakugo’s chest with a soft touch that contrasted sharply with the heat building below. Bakugo’s whole body trembled, thighs shaking, hole greedily sucking Kirishima’s fingers deeper.
“Eijirou,” Bakugo suddenly breathed, gripping Kirishima’s arms tightly. “If you don’t fuck me right now I’m going to kill you.” And Kirishima knew from the fiery look in his eyes that he meant every word.
He bent down to press a deep kiss to his lips as he stroked his own cock. Finally, he pulled his fingers out and replaced them with the thick head of his dick. He pushed in slowly, savoring the way Bakugo’s walls fluttered and clenched around him, the way his breath hitched and his fingers dug into the couch cushions. He was painfully aware that if any unfortunate classmate woke up for a midnight snack, they’d be treated to this utterly obscene scene- but with Bakugo’s glassy eyes and broken whimpers filling the air, Kirishima couldn’t bring himself to care.
He groaned as he bottomed out, pausing for a moment to steady himself. “Fuck… what if someone saw us like this?” he murmured, deliberately teasing. “Seeing you get fucked open right here, where we just had dinner with everyone?”
Bakugo moaned, now loud and shameless, and Kirishima didn’t bother quieting him. He started moving the way he’d been dying to all night: deep, hard thrusts that punched the air from Bakugo’s lungs. One hand fisted in Bakugo’s hair to keep him close for more kisses, the other gripping his waist firmly.
Bakugo’s mouth fell open with every thrust, broken cries and curses spilling out- “Fuck, Ei, you feel so good- wait, no, not there-” His hole clenched around Kirishima, milking him greedily. Tears of overwhelming pleasure pricked at the corners of his eyes, and Kirishima watched every single one, drinking in the way Bakugo’s face twisted in ecstasy, flushed and wrecked and so fucking beautiful.
Kirishima didn’t stop. He fucked him harder, faster, the wet slap of skin echoed in the empty common area, obscene and loud. Bakugo came first, sudden and violent, cock pulsing untouched as he spilled over the couch cushions with a strangled shout, body shaking apart.
Kirishima followed seconds later, burying himself deep and coming with a low groan, filling Bakugo until it leaked out around his cock. He gave a few more shallow thrusts for good measure before stilling. They stayed locked together for a long moment, panting as the high slowly faded. The common area was silent except for their ragged breaths.
Kirishima pressed a soft kiss to Bakugo’s lips, smiling against sweat-damp skin.
“Happy birthday, my love,” he whispered.
Bakugo’s only answer was a breathless, wrecked laugh as he swatted at Kirishima playfully. “We’ve got a bit of laundry to do.”