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Kirishima is level-headed. Smart and patient. Bubbly and sweet— the kind of person that starts the day with a smile on his face and listens to the birds singing while humming his own tune along.
Katsuki knows when something is wrong. He always does.
They worked on balance. The line between forcing yourself to be happy and genuinely feeling joy. Katsuki doesn't expect him to be happy all the time but this is different.
The whole week he'd been off. Waking up and rolling out of bed without clinging to Katsuki for an extra five minutes— no humming, no sound of Eijirou taking up space in their apartment, nothing.
No kisses and if there were they were small and simple nothing more. No long and slow makeouts— And he knows Kirishima, knows he needs touch, so, for him to just up and leave with nothing? Yeah. Bakugou is worried.
A week of Kirishima with a half absent stare and small hums of agreement whenever Katsuki says something instead of a little, teasing jab back.
It's been hectic, too. He's been called out of bed more times this week than he ever has, to go help out with villain attacks after a surge of them— they call themselves 'The Rebirth'. A bunch of useless fucks, that are too strong for their own good wreaking havoc on the general public.
He's tired, they both are. So tired that they haven't had the time to deal with this— with Eijirou floating around like a lost puppy.
Katsuki knew for sure then that it was worse than he thought when Kirishima came home, stared blankly and forced his face up into a smile at his rank changing— twelve to eleven. Ranks change and fluctuate all the time but he still gets excited no matter how big or small, even if he falls back he makes sure to send a message of support to whoever passed him— there was none of that this time, only, "'M gonna go for a run, I'll see you in a bit."
And when he threw an absentminded bye over his shoulder, Katsuki thought they'd finally get to talk when he got back.
Stupidly. He's stupid for thinking he'd actually get an evening off because he's called right back into work. Another villain attack, a freak covered in goo, preaching and roaring about how he's going to take over the world. They'd asked for serious destructive power, to clean up the scene in one fell swoop.
He'll do that and come straight back home.
Except— except it took way longer than he thought and there's orange slime still stuck to his costume, skin and seeping into cracks that he didn't even know existed. He desperately needs to shower.
Red hair, dark roots and tired eyes flash in his mind and slap him straight across the face. He can shower at home. Eijirou has been on his mind all day.
Was he okay? How was patrol? What's wrong?
Kirishima is in their bed out cold when he gets back, mouth ajar and devastatingly cute, even in this state. And he looks tired— eyes a little more hollow than usual and hair in a messy halo around him. Katsuki frowns at his sleeping face and brushes the back of his hand over a soft cheek.
Kirishima sighs gently and turns into the touch, still soundly asleep— his brows twitch and pull in, then smooth out.
The noise that comes out of him makes Katsuki's chest hurt; it's delicate— something he doesn't give himself the grace to be when he's out in the field.
He lies next to him with a promise to himself that he'll help Eijirou get through it all.
Tomorrow.
Kirishima storms into the apartment, undone, muttering under his breath— face like thunder, back tight and rigid. He doesn't even acknowledge Katsuki, just flicks their door shut and kicks his costume boots at the wall.
The heavy buckles smack against the plaster and Katsuki frowns, he'll have to check the paint later and make sure Kirishima's boots aren't damaged too.
He was making dinner, something quick and simple— it can wait. Kirishima bristles past him and pulls the fridge open, curses when he doesn't find whatever he was looking for and the door shakes with the force of the slam shut.
"Calm the fuck down, princess." It slips out, and it's unfair, but Katsuki doesn't do stropping or tantrums— they need to talk it through. Whatever it is.
Kirishima's eyes dart over to him and pin him in place. He's mad. The most mad Bakugou has seen him in a long time.
His eyes narrow and so do Katsuki's. He doesn't feel like being tested today but Kirishima is unwavering, quirk rippling and shivering up the sides of his forearms and travelling upward toward the base of his neck. It disappears like it was never there a second later— skin smoothing out softly.
"What?" Kirishima grits out after steeling himself with a shallow breath.
"The fuck do you mean, what?" Katsuki grits back.
Kirishima blinks at him, shocked. His face crumples and turns into something frustrated— brows pulling together tight, nose bunching and top lip curling.
"No," Kirishima says, running a hand through his hair, "I'm not doing this with you."
"Doing what?" Katsuki asks, irritated, arms folding across his chest.
"This!" His voice shakes, he levels it and sighs long and hard— a real whoosh of air from his mouth. "I'm not— I don't wanna fight, Katsuki. Just cool it."
And Katsuki would. He would but Kirishima is right there, nostrils flared— hardening skittering up his arms and curling under the side of his clenching jaw. It disappears as quickly as it comes again, jagged mass ebbing and sinking back into smooth skin.
He would. He could.
But, it's Kirishima.
He inches his way closer to him and Eijirou tenses up but doesn't run. Because. Because he's glued in place, stuck between a rock and Katsuki. Katsuki who has him right where he wants him, riled up and trembling.
"Drop the fucking attitude, Ei. I'm serious," And he is. They barely fight anymore. This doesn't feel like that though— it isn't that. Because Katsuki knows it's Kirishima begging to be taken care of.
Kirishima ignores him, eyes wide— almost bugged out of his head. "What? You can't be—"
"—Serious? I just said I was," He doesn't leave my room for a rebuttal and Kirishima's mouth clicks shut. "You need me to say it again for you?"
There's a beat of silence.
Then, "Shut up," Kirishima chokes out, irate. He's vibrating— hand running through dishevelled hair again and shaking his head, incredulously. "Shut up, I can't— You don't even know what—" He breaks off with a huff and pushes his hair out of his face, circling around the kitchen island to push at Katsuki's chest. "You're a dick."
He's in his space, only for a second. A second for Katsuki to smell the salt on his skin from the day— he's going to drag his tongue all over him and hear Kirishima whine about it, desperate and needy for him.
Kirishima backs away, guarded.
"You storm in here like I'm the one who fucked up and expect me to say nothing?" Katsuki rumbles. Kirishima's eyebrows shoot up— his lips part but Katsuki doesn't want to hear it. "Listen."
Kirishima blinks.
"You're so hard-headed." He shakes his own head, catching the way Kirishima's breathing changes when he starts forward, "When's it gonna get through your thick skull that you need my help, hm?"
"I don't— " Katsuki cuts him off.
"C'mere," He breathes, like Eijirou has a choice. He doesn't. Because he's already in Kirishima's space, everywhere, crowding him up against the kitchen island. Kirishima winces at the surface digging into the small of his back and pushes at Katsuki's chest.
"Katsuki, you don't know what you're talking about," Kirishima says, voice unsteady— he's trying to worm out of Katsuki's hold. He won't let him, though. "You're pissing me off."
Katsuki pulls in closer, "Enough." It comes out tender. A blend of all things built up— like it's been pulled up from the deepest part of his chest, to be laid bare.
He seizes Kirishima's wrists in his hand and twists so that he’s flush against him, over the flat surface. He pants and writhes but— but. "You're strong. Break out if you want to."
Kirishima stops against him, stock still. His breath comes fast and strained— hands locked in place by Katsuki who's pressed right behind him, over him— all-consuming, siphoning the oxygen from his lungs.
Kirishima's chest stutters and his hands ball into fists in Katsuki's grip. He tightens them, testing how much it would take— how much he'd need to pull and twist to get out, Katsuki can hear him thinking about it, tucked and nestled under the need.
It takes a minute. A battle of bated breath and crumbling resolve. He flexes his hands under Katsuki and flattens them, damp palms sliding ever-so slightly.
Katsuki's cock pulses in his sweats, he's hard for no reason other than the thought of Kirishima submitting for him. How he rolls over and lets Katsuki take the reins— how he spreads his feet and subtly rocks back. You'd miss it if you were anyone else but Kirishima is as quiet as a freighter to him.
Kirishima whimpers underneath him, "Breathe, Ei." And he can feel Kirishima try, but it's still too quick— too shallow. "Breathe," Katsuki demands, slowing his own breaths down so that Kirishima can feel them against his back, and pull air into his lungs.
Kirishima tries again under him, takes a moment to focus and inhale and it's better, "Good."
He makes a noise at that— wounded and lets himself breathe even deeper, back expanding and falling.
A little praise has him obedient as ever. His perfect angel.
The buckle of Kirishima's belt sounds like shackles as he loosens the pendant and lets it fall to the ground. Katsuki's hand snakes down, unzipping and pulling those pants just over his ass and halfway down his thighs. That's all he has to do to give Kirishima exactly what he needs.
He pulls himself out of his own shorts, thick and heavy— leaking too, keeping Kirishima in place, wrists clamped tight. He pumps a hand over himself, catching the slick leaking from the head of his cock. The drag makes his eyes roll back.
He thumbs over his head and inches his hips toward Kirishima, closer and tighter— leaving no room for anything but him pressing his cock in.
Kirishima gasps and twitches forward— Katsuki slips out, a web of slick following. Kirishima's head hangs, fists tightening up again under Bakugou's hold.
His teeth find the tip of Kirishima's ear, nipping and licking sweetly, "Don't run from me," Kirishima gasps, rocking forward and whines at Katsuki's palm snaking down to open him up— spreading him wide and popping the head of his cock back in place, "You can take it."
The slide is so fucking easy, it always is with Eijirou— he's rigid against Katsuki, all of him taut. But, Katsuki inches himself deeper and Kirishima sucks him in— cunt wet and fluttering around him.
He mewls so pretty, too. There isn't a time where he sounds sweeter than when he's full of cock.
A rough hand finds its way right on the small of Kirishima's back, touch grounding and he arches up into it— changing the angle of Katsuki sliding in. It makes him gasp and shudder and press back. And Katsuki is so gone for him— even when he needs to be fucked until his mind clears up he is still so needy.
He stills, hips flush against Eijirou's ass and lets him adjust. He can hear his breath shake over the quiet of their apartment, the hitch every time Katsuki adjusts ever so slightly— then he moves.
Drags himself out of Kirishima's pussy and fucks back in. "Ah!" He feels his mouth pull up into a grin and does it again, just to hear Kirishima make that desperate noise for him.
He presses in again, thick and wide. Again. Again, hips rolling in and out, picking up the pace. He's fucking him, really fucking him and Katsuki lets his wrists go, just to spread him even further apart so he can fuck deeper.
Kirishima scrambles at the counter— reaches back to latch onto Katsuki, then back to the counter— like his brain can't figure out how to handle him feeling this good. Can't even decide how to moan. Everything comes out broken a half-whine, groan, mewl as Katsuki fucks the air out of his lungs.
The slap of skin is loud and Kirishima moans even louder— Katsuki squeezes on the back of his neck, holds him in place and makes him take it. Like he knows he needs it.
His hips don't still, Kirishima clenches around all of him— and he can't help it, he's needy and Katsuki knew he was— he arches into the next thrust, groan wrenching itself out of his throat, rough and loud when Katsuki presses in at a new angle.
"Katsuki, I—" He slows his hips into a tight roll, bullying his way in, carving the shape of his cock into him and Kirishima cries out, broken, "Oh, fuck."
"Knew you could take it." He knows Kirishima needs to hear it, fucked open for him— wide, wet. Such a good boy, he tells him just as much, "Always so good for me."
Something breaks in Kirishima, snaps at the praise and pulls at his frayed edges until he's a pile of cotton— soft, muffled. His body goes limp— head drooping then, finally falling to the counter.
There he is. His baby. Katsuki drags his cock out slowly again, rocking his hips forward and pressing back into his soaking cunt.
"'M gonna— please, can I come?" Kirishima begs, voice stringy and— "Katsuki, please? I need—" Katsuki fucks in hard and he takes it, hard body soft and pliable for him. So soft and begging for release. He doesn't even need to but— but Katsuki can feel him slipping, with the way he lets Katsuki move him— with the way he mewls into the crook of his elbow, head weighty and loose.
"You can come, Ei." Kirishima clenches down on him, milking his cock, "Don't have to ask me, they're yours."
"Fuck, thank you," Kirishima cries out and shakes apart on his cock, knees bucking and body trembling. His back bends into a perfect arc and he's whining low, the sound trapped in the back of his throat.
Oh. Oh. Katsuki pinches the base of his dick, fuck. Kirishima rocks back, pulling Katsuki in, like he can't bear to let him go— reaches back to get a hold of Katsuki in a way that isn't inside of him. And Katsuki knows he needs touch, especially in moments like this. He reaches out and Kirishima melts, even more so, humming pleased and sweet, riding out the waves of his orgasm.
Katsuki runs a thumb over the notches of his spine and settles down at the base— stroking ever so slowly, touch grounding and keeping Kirishima present. "Ei?"
Kirishima looks back, slowly, eyes glazed over and unfocused. Rambling out his gratitude— sweet, so sweetly for Katsuki. Cheeks red and lips swollen. He's staring back at Katsuki, so fucking pretty— the tears pooled in his eyes sliding down his cheeks freely.
Kirishima blinks, brows pinching cutely, clearly expecting something from Katsuki, worrying his bottom lip in-between his teeth. Katsuki reaches forward to pull it out and only presses his cock deeper. Kirishima whines, eyelashes fluttering, eyes rolling back.
Katsuki can't stand this, he can't believe this is his life. Kirishima fucking Eijirou, bent over their kitchen island, full of his cock and free-falling for him.
He hasn't looked after Kirishima like this in a while, where he's so deep in this headspace that he trusts Katsuki so deeply to let him take care of him.
Katsuki is so fucking gone for him, but can't lose control here, not now.
"Is my good boy here with me?" Katsuki asks gently, stroking over the small of Kirishima's back.
Kirishima nods.
He'd ask how far, he'd ask how deep and he'd ask when it happened, but, well. Katsuki knows.
He pulls out slowly, and Kirishima whimpers at the loss, eyes filling with tears and bottom lip wobbling. "I know, Red. 'C'mere," he coos out and pulls Eijirou into him. His good boy. "Let's get you out of these." Katsuki peels them both out of their clothes with practice.
He peppers kisses over Kirishima's face, crowding him into his arms and nosing over the side of his face, then down to the hinge of his jaw. Kirishima tips his neck back softly, baring it for Katsuki to lathe his tongue over and suck gently. He can be gentle, Eijirou needs gentle right here in his arms, pressed against him and needy. He'll fuck Kirishima as many times as he needs to, to have him shake and cry and whine— he sucks a little harder, hard enough to leave a mark and Kirishima goes boneless in his hold.
It doesn't take much at all to heft him up over to the couch— to bury his face into the cushions and keep his pretty cunt up high for him to play with. Not much at all. His cock bounces and he runs a finger over Kirishima, through the wetness and it flutters and clenches around nothing. He flicks his tongue out— a broad stripe has Kirishima rocking back and mewling into the cushions softly.
Eijirou. His Eijirou, soft and sweet for him. Mewling and whining and twitching, deep under.
Katsuki holds him still, a forearm hooking over his thighs to root him in place and Kirishima doesn't move again. He circles his tongue over him, getting him wetter, sloppy, slicking him up— sucking and pushing his fingers into that cunt. Kirishima takes it like Katsuki knew he would— knew he needed.
He hums against Kirishima, watches him fight against bucking back and does it again. Because he can, because Kirishima doesn't get to run now— he can't. He won't.
He presses his fingers down, and flicks his tongue over Eijirou, until he's crying out and trembling under him. "I'm— please!" Kirishima begs, even though there's no need to— even though Katsuki told him he could whenever, that these were his to take. He never slows the fingers pistoning in and out, keeps pressing— keeps fucking them in and it tears an orgasm out of Kirishima.
"Go ahead, baby." It comes out muffled and wet, but he knows Kirishima needs to hear it otherwise he'd teeter on the edge for no other reason than Katsuki not giving him permission.
He comes with a drawn-out keen— it's rough as Katsuki wrings him out, mouth closing and pulsing back over his clit. He lies and sobs, and lets Katsuki suck the orgasm out of him. He doesn't stop until Kirishima jerks in sensitivity and the backs of his thighs ripple with his quirk uncontrollably.
Kirishima collapses forward, spent, boneless— far away, foggy-minded with his pretty eyes glazed over. Katsuki pulls his hips back up, keeping that perfect cunt exactly where he needs it so he can slide his way to the hilt.
The sound Kirishima makes when he nudges his cock back in and pulls Kirishima's hips back into his own is devastating, guttural and forced from the deepest part of his core. His hips start up— his own cock throbbing and hurtling toward the edge.
He folds Kirishima exactly where he wants him, just so he can see more clearly— watch for every gasp and every puff of air that leaves his chest.
There's nothing prettier, Katsuki thinks. Nothing in this world compares to Kirishima wrecked like this, limp and drooling from his cock— it takes nothing more than a few orgasms and some praise and he's whining uncontrollably. Every slide of his cock in and out wrenches out another sound. His quirk flickers and dances over his skin, whipping over him and crawling over the broad plane of his back.
He's brainless— Katsuki gives and gives and gives, feels Kirishima flutter and pulse around him and his breath hitch and gasp. He inches his leg up, plants himself firm just so he can fuck him properly like he needs and pound into the spot that makes his eyes cross and roll back.
They do. Katsuki can see, he likes it so much, watching Kirishima be out of his mind— jerked by the force of his thrusts, mouth hanging open. Fucked dumb. Stupid on his cock. He can't stop his own mouth from running, he never can— even if Kirishima is checked-out, mind stuffed with nothing but static and praise.
"Need to keep you full don't I?" God. Kirishima tightens around him and he hauls him closer, fucking in tight and rough. "Almost lost your mind without my cock buried in you." Kirishima whines, really whines— hiccuped, cute— scratchy and wrecked. "I know," He coos sweetly. He does. His Eijirou. His baby.
Kirishima nods. Nods as Katsuki rambles and pistons into him. He chokes out a moan— a plea, incoherent.
"Oh, there you go." Katsuki coos. Because Kirishima is coming for him with a tortured wail, cunt spasming and milking him for everything he's worth and Katsuki's own orgasm knocks the wind out of him— coil snapping, cock bursting and come lashing deep into Kirishima— thick and heavy.
Kirishima submitting, taking what he needed completely, not asking but letting Katsuki fuck obedience into him.
They breathe in tandem, chests heaving— bodies shaky and waves of pleasure pull them into the deep end. His cock kicks one last time and Kirishima slumps.
He's on him immediately, cooing and brushing his hair out of his face, praise pouring out of his mouth. He's good— so good, Katsuki's good boy. His.
He makes quick work of hefting a boneless Kirishima over to their bed, a Kirishima who whines out for him when he leaves to grab a warm rag, a bottle of water and some fruit.
His body sings for Kirishima, aches when he leaves him for too long like this— he needs to be by his side just like Kirishima needs him.
His own cock softens and Kirishima is all that matters, he’s humming and wiping in-between his legs so tenderly. Soft. Peppering kisses wherever he can reach; over the tear tracks, the sides of his temples and the crown of his head. "You did so well for me." Katsuki loves him so much. He needs to let him know.
Kirishima can feel it, though, with every gentle touch and stroke of his hair. Every time he brings the bottle of water up to his lips for small sips— when he kisses him after that too.
He's talking to himself, just so Kirishima can come back down to his voice, a beacon, a safe-haven.
Katsuki wipes the warm rag over his tear-stained face gently. Kirishima hums at the tight feeling being brushed away. Katsuki smiles against him and pulls Eijirou in closer because he can't bear to be even a centimeter farther, needs to kiss over where he wiped the stiffness away.
It's nice to go through the motions like this, to make sure his baby is taken care of thoroughly; his hands are even gentler, brushing over Kirishima's cheeks, running down his back and staying there— kneading the tension out. He's needy, maybe even more so. He'll keep talking and kissing and feeding Kirishima small bites of fruit.
A slice of apple to his lips, because Kirishima likes the snap under his teeth. He makes a little noise and chews, big eyes blinking— clearing up, no longer stormy but sweet and clear.
"Mm." Kirishima hums, soft in the back of his throat.
"Yeah?" Katsuki asks, stupidly proud that he'd picked right. But he knows, of course he does. Eijirou is his everything.
He brings the mango up to his lips next and Kirishima hums in delight. "I love you," It pours out of Katsuki like honey, and Kirishima smiles all toothy and wide. So fucking cute.
"I know," Kirishima rasps out and Katsuki's face splits into a soft grin, thumb coming up to stroke over where his cheek rounds out perfectly.
They fall asleep just like this, glued together, smiling and kissing about nothing. They'll talk later. For real this time because Katsuki knows, for sure now, he'll be ready to talk.