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Of Saxophone Solos and Spilt Cappuccinos

Chapter Text

Jazz music filters softly through the café, the notes making Kirishima smile as he sways. It’s quiet, only a couple of customers opting to stay so near to closing time. Three girls nestled onto one of the worn leather sofas and a couple of businessmen; who probably needed a pick me up after a long day at work. The muted drone of their conversation adds to the ambience, leaving the redhead relaxed for the first time that day.

He loves working at 42, a little coffee shop that is any hipsters haven. With a constant stream of jazz and progressive rock; records line the walls, and plectrums are adhered to the ceiling. He doesn’t, however, love serving a queue of people that curves out the door and onto the street beyond; especially when patience isn’t a virtue than any of the customers appear to possess.

But right now, it’s perfect, winding down for the day as Kirishima looks forward to taking a long, hot shower and ignoring the existence of his impending essay deadlines.

Mina is humming behind him as she cleans the coffee machine, wolfing down a piece of cake that Aizawa had begrudgingly allowed her to take. Leaning over, he snaffles a piece as she lets out a protest which is somewhat muffled by the remnants of the dessert.

“Don’t think I won’t stab you with this fork”, she growls, once swallowing, brandishing the implement dangerously close to Kirishima’s face.

He chuckles and swipes another bite before running out behind the counter as Mina starts to curse profusely. Midoriya looks up from where he’s wiping a table, laughing along with Kirishima as Mina glares vehemently at him.

“Kiri, I hate to break it to you, but you can’t fill the empty void of your soul with cake”, she taunts. He merely sticks his tongue out in response, threatening to throw the dirty cloth at her.

“Or your lack of a boyfriend”, she adds, smirking as he pouts back.

“I can totally replace my love life with calories”, he retorts, popping a sugar cube from one of the tables into his mouth.

From somewhere in the corner he hears a sad sigh, he turns to face the women who look positively depressed.

“Is everything okay?”, the redhead questions cheerily.

“Yup, my friend just really wanted to ask you out”, the brunette replies with a grin.

“Ahh sorry, don’t swing that way”, he smiles back before giving an apologetic shrug.

“Don’t worry about it”, she laughs back as Kirishima turns back to the counter face flushed with embarrassment.

Mina is looking smug as she leans over to whisper, “sixteen”. He glares at her before reaching over to swallow the last of the cake.

“You’ve been asked out sixteen times this week, all by girls”, she reminds him, prodding his chest.

“Come on just let me set you up with a guy I know”.

“No way”, Kirishima grumbles back; it’s not that he doesn’t trust Mina but rather he’d prefer to meet someone himself, without his friend’s intervention.

At that moment, Kaminari chooses to poke his face out the kitchen door, shit eating grin already plastered on his face.

“Are we talking about Kiri’s inability to find a date”.

“Shut up”, he mutters back, feeling the tips of his ears redden.

“It’s almost endearing”, Mina teases, ruffling his hair as Kaminari walks out slapping Kirishima’s ass playfully as he passes.

The redhead knows not to take the blonds flirtatious actions to heart, Kaminari is naturally coquettish, something he has quickly learned to love whilst becoming roommates with him and Sero.

Kirishima sighs with relief when the last customer leaves and the door swings gently shut. The minute they’re out the door, Mina turns the music up ‘Baker Street’ blaring out the speakers as the saxophone solo kicks in.

Midoriya laughs as Kaminari weaves through the tables, dancing as he sweeps the floor. Before long they’re all at it, humming and singing as they clean. It’s these moments he loves the best, when he can forget about the stress of university and instead indulge in losing himself in the music with his friends.

Just as the song is ending, the door swings open causing Kirishima to whip around; wondering who decided to ignore the blatant closed sign in the window.

He’s faced with questionably the most attractive person he’s ever had the good fortune to lay his eyes on.

A guy, probably his age, with a mass of ash blond hair that is notably windswept. His cheeks are flushed from the cold outside but his eyes glint with energy, a denim jacket slung over his powerful frame and legs clad in black jeans, which Kirishima tries his best not to stare at. The redhead is gawking, and he knows it, but can’t find the willpower to stop.

“I’m sorry we’re closed but if you’re really desperate we could make an exception”, Mina says, sending Kirishima a not so discreate wink.

“Yeah, thanks”, the guy retorts curtly, barely looking around him as he makes his way to the counter. Kirishima still hasn’t stopped staring.

“Kiri, you can make it”, Mina yells at the redhead as she joins Kaminari at one of the tables where he’s giggling violently.

“A black coffee”, the blond mutters and Kirishima watches as his eyes focus onto one of the records on the wall.

“You like Pink Floyd?”, Kirishima asks, attempting to make conversation. For the first time the blond’s eyes flutter upwards to his face and for minute he swears the guy’s pupils widen for a second.

“Yeah”, he grunts back as he passes his money over.

“I’m more of an Ella Fitzgerald person myself”, he replies allowing his fingers to linger as he hands the blond his change.

“Good choice”, are the man’s parting words as he grabs his coffee and departs, leaving a flustered and slightly dazed Kirishima behind.

He can vaguely hear Mina, Midoriya and Kaminari gossiping and giggling but doesn’t pay them any heed. There’s a pounding in his chest and a heat in his cheeks which is all too telling.

“I mean why didn’t you just drop your pants and ask him to fuck you right then and there?”, Kaminari jibes.

“He was totally your type as well”, Midoriya adds with a reassuring smile.

“Yeah hot and into good music, I bet he goes to uni as well”, Mina interjects.

“Guys, I don’t even know his name I think you’re a bit ahead of yourselves”, he tries to reason. None of them are paying any attention as Mina starts to formulate a plan. He groans and reminds himself that there’s a bed and pot noodles waiting for him at home.


Over the next couple of days Kirishima almost forgets about a certain blond customer. Almost, being the crucial word.

He finds himself looking up sharply whenever he catches a glimpse of ash hair as well as spending his time on campus scouring his eyes for any sign of the guy.

It’s fruitless, so much so that he’s overflowing with excitement to work an evening shift on Friday in the hope that he’ll see the blond again.

It’s already fairly busy when he enters, pulling his hair up into a lose ponytail at the nape of his neck he quickly checks the room but to no avail.

Midoriya throws him an apron, giving him a quick smile before Kirishima loses himself in the routine. The evening passes in a blur of coffee beans and mindless chatter; he barely has time to think about the blond.

“Hi, what can I get you?”, he looks up at the next customer, it’s a woman who looks positively furious.

“I’ve been waiting for the past ten minutes”, she snaps, glaring at him as he tries to give her an apologetic smile.

“I’m really sorry”, he tries but the woman cuts him off with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“A regular cappuccino to go, now hurry the hell up before I leave”, Kirishima swallows the retort rising in his throat and simply nods; humiliation and anger burning his cheeks. The woman makes a contemptuous snort and begins to tap her foot as he fumbles with the cups.

“If you’re going to be a bitch just get the hell out and stop treating people like shit”, the entire café goes silent as a voice rises out the line. Kirishima turns, eyes wide, recognising the voice instantly.

The woman whips round, moving just enough to give Kirishima a glance of a blond man, with his arms crossed and brow furrowed as he gives her an accusatory glare.

Kirishima can feel the tension simmering in the air, “I’m really sorry, here’s your drink” the woman turns back around, still looking pissed off, and as she does her handbag collides with the cup on the counter; knocking it straight into Kirishima’s chest.

He gives a yelp as the scalding liquid splashes across the fabric of his apron and top, the woman doesn’t so much as apologise, merely huffing as she storms out the door.

The room remains silent for a couple of seconds before all the customers start enquiring as to if the redhead’s okay, he gives a weak smile and nods as Midoriya quickly guides him to the storeroom.

“Kiri are you alright?”, he inquires, eyes wide with concern.

“I’ve got to go, the queue”, he motions to the door before Kirishima waves him off.

“It’s fine, I’ll be back out in a second”, just as Midoriya’s about to leave a voice floats into the room.

“What a fucking bitch, are you alright?”, the blond stands in the doorway looking worried as his eyes flit across the stain.

Midoriya looks up, “Hey could I ask you for a massive favour and make sure Kirishima’s fine?”.

“I’m okay, seriously”, Kirishima attempts again but neither are paying attention.

“Yeah, sure”, the blond replies. Kirishima is pretty sure this is unnecessary and Midoriya just asked so he could get the two of them alone, but in truth he’s not really complaining.

“I’m Bakugou”, the blond mutters as he helps Kirishima out of his apron.

“You’re going to have to take your top of as well”, he adds as Kirishima blushes furiously.

“I’m going to check for any sign of scalding although you should be fine”, Bakugou must have glimpsed the redhead’s expression because he adds, “I’m doing a medical degree so stop gawking like a fucking idiot”. Kirishima promptly closes his mouth, pulling of his top to let the blond assess the damage.

Bakugou doesn’t even ask before he reaches out, allowing the tips of his finger to skim across the skin of Kirishima’s chest. The redhead has to use all his self-restraint to stop himself from shivering.

“Looks okay, it might sting for a while though”, Kirishima nods his eyes drifting up to meet Bakugou’s.

“Thanks”, he grins, grabbing a spare top from one of the draws, the blond’s gaze burning into his back.

He desperately wants to say more but just as he opens his mouth Bakugou speaks.

“No problem, I’ve got to go but I’ll see you around”.

And with that, he’s gone.

Chapter Text

“We are not buying luminous pink bed sheets”, the sentence floats through the shop and Kirishima can’t help but snort with laughter as he catches a glimpse of Sero’s face.

“Please babe”, whines Kaminari as the redhead wanders over, tailed by Midoriya and Todoroki who are deep in conversation.

“No”, Sero is holding the offending item in his hands with a look of pure disgust and Kirishima wonders for the millionth time why he sacrificed his only day without uni or work to go furniture shopping with his roommates.

“Five blowjobs if you let me buy them”, Kaminari pleads, causing Sero to splutter loudly as several customers turn around looking vaguely affronted.

“I swear to god Denki I am going to strangle you”, Kaminari merely winks and saunters down the aisle shouting behind him, “Kinky!”.

Sero looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole as Kirishima pats him on the back, trying to conceal his smile. There’s something undeniably sweet about their relationship, the arguments always superficial.

Although, the day has been nothing short of a catastrophe the redhead’s glad to be keeping himself occupied, he’s spent far too many hours this week thinking about Bakugou and his hands, warm and calloused, pressed against his chest.

Just as his thoughts begin to wander, he hears his name lilting from behind him.

“Midoriya, was just telling me that there’s a guy you like”, Todoroki hums pensively, catching his eyes with a questioning gaze.

“Errm yeah”, Kirishima mumbles, he swears Todoroki has some sixth sense which allows his to know exactly what people are thinking.

“He’s really cute and Kirishima blushes and gets all nervous when he’s around him”, Midoriya supplies and the redhead makes an indignant snort.

“I do no-”, the rest of his sentence is cut off as Kaminari comes whizzing past him, sat in a shopping trolley as Sero shoves him down the aisle.

“Sup hoes!”, he yells as he narrowly avoids a shelf of ornaments before coming to a juddering halt an inch away from a display of kitchen ware.

“I swear we are going to get kicked out”, mutters Todoroki as Kaminari tries to climb out but manages to tip the entire thing on its side with a crash.

Half the shop is now staring at the blond’s antics as Kirishima buries his face into his hands and Sero mutters something about finding a new boyfriend.

“Fucking hell”, a voice resonates from near where Kaminari’s sprawled across the floor, the figure rounds the corner and Kirishima promptly forgets how to speak, or breath for that matter.

Bakugou stares down at the blond, who takes one look at his face and begins to giggle hysterically, Kirishima decides now would be a convenient time to disappear. But fate seems thoroughly set on fucking him over because at that moment Bakugou looks up and catches his eye.

“Is this something you do regularly”, he asks motioning to Kaminari who is still rolling around on the floor laughing, Kirishima is blushing as he hears Midoriya gasp in sudden recognition before he begins whispering to Todoroki.

“Kaminari’s always like that”, Sero responds giving Bakugou a friendly smile as he turns to Kirishima.

“You guys know each other?”, before he can so much as reply Kaminari interjects.

“Yup, they were getting it on in the storeroom at work”, Kirishima decides that he should probably just run now before Kaminari can say anything else incriminating.

Bakugou smirks, “I was just checking to see if he was alright”, he shrugs before continuing, gaze never leaving Kirishima’s face.

“We didn’t fuck or anything”.

Kirishima wonders if he just casually crawled into one of the bathroom displays and cried, whether any of the employees would chuck him out because it’s looking more and more like an attractive option.

The neon lights somehow make Bakugou’s eyes glint even brighter and the small smile curling his lips is intoxicating.

And before Kirishima can stop himself he blurts out, “I’m working tomorrow night”. Bakugou looks vaguely amused and nods slightly.

“Well I’d be a fucking idiot not to stop by”, he replies as his eyes linger, darting across the redhead’s body. Kirishima barely manages an incoherent mumble before Bakugou’s gone.

“Well that was disturbingly adorable”, Sero muses as they all turn to Kirishima, who just stands there feeling slightly dazed.


Kirishima almost skips into work the next day, brimming with poorly concealed anticipation. He certainly didn’t spend the entire evening fantasising about Bakugou and he definitely didn’t jerk himself off till he came with the blond’s name on his lips.

To his surprise, Bakugou is already there; lounging carelessly in his chair as he absentmindedly stirs his coffee, eyes glazed as he stares out the window.

The redhead keeps his eyes trained on him as he darts behind the counter, utterly enthralled as he watches Bakugou bring a piece of cake to his mouth, tongue lingering on his fork as his eyes finally meet Kirishima’s.

Neither look away as the blond swirls his tongue to catch the last remnants of the cream, expression just daring Kirishima to break their gaze.

Kirishima distantly notices the song transitioning, Duke Ellington’s voice floating through air. He barely comprehends the lyrics as the blond quirks his lips upwards, in a painfully tantalising smile.

His reverie is broken as Kaminari elbows him hard in the ribs, “When you’ve stopped eye fucking each other, can you make a regular latté”.

The redhead opens his mouth ready to deny the accusation but Kaminari merely raises a disbelieving eyebrow, “There’s always the storeroom if you’re really that desperate”, he teases.


Before long the room is filled with the hearty aroma of coffee beans as a steady stream of customers flit in and out. Every time Kirishima lets his eyeline fall upon Bakugou, he’s still lazing at the table, smiling languidly each time he catches the redhead staring.

As the evening wears on the crowds dissipate and Kirishima watches with mild curiosity as the blond finally rises from his chair and makes his way over to the juke box.

Anticipation curls in his stomach as he watches Bakugou slip a coin into the machine before observing the selection; his fingers dart across the buttons before he selects one.

The blond’s eyes flutter up and he cocks his head as the first notes permeate the air, ‘La Vie En Rose’ singing sweetly across the space between them until it reaches Kirishima’s ears. He can’t help but give in to the blush that threatens to sweep across his cheeks.

It’s an undeniably beautiful song but right now it’s utterly and unquestionably perfect, the way Bakugou gives him one last gaze as he returns to his chair, has Kirishima’s heart thundering in his chest.

Bashfully he looks down to the drink he’s making, desperately trying to conceal his ever-growing smile; it doesn’t go unnoticed by Mina who sniggers.

“You guys are so into each other it’s disgusting”, she observes, her tone playful as she ruffles Kirishima’s hair for the millionth time that day.

“You think he’s into me?”, Kirishima asks, hope lacing his tone as Mina gives him an incredulous look.

“Are you actually kidding, Kiri he just chose the most romantic song to fucking serenade you with”, the redhead lets his gaze flicker over to Bakugou; the blond is staring at him, expression almost expectant.


When closing time finally rolls around, Mina chucks him the keys with a knowing grin as Kaminari and her leave; leaving no one but him and Bakugou in the otherwise deserted cafe.

The blond rises from his chair, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he unwinds a pair of earphones. Kirishima lingers by the counter, choosing to watch as he moves nearer.

Bakugou snorts, “Stop being so fucking shy and come here”, he holds his hand out and Kirishima allows his own fingers to link with the blond’s.

Before he can resist, his whole body is being drawn to Bakugou, as a hand snakes around his waist. Uncertainty, he allows his head to rest against the blond’s shoulder as Bakugou gently presses the bud to his ear before he inserts the other in his own.

Kirishima furrows his brow as he tries to decipher the notes, the song sounds oddly familiar, but he can’t quite grasp its name.

Just as the first strums of the guitar begin Bakugou murmurs, “Lost for Words by Pink Floyd, not very romantic I know but it’s a fucking good song”. Kirishima laughs softly into the crook of the blond’s shoulder.

He can’t believe he’s swaying to the heady thrum of a half-recollected rhythm, with a guy he barely knows, but somehow it seems right.

Bakugou’s body is warm and strong, his hands secure around the redhead’s hips and Kirishima knows he’s falling fast.

The song stretches into a single eternity which Kirishima wants to reside in forever but all too soon the last notes fade away into nothingness.

Bakugou hums thoughtfully as their eyes meet, Kirishima has the desperate urge to close the distance between their lips, but stops himself.

“Pretty great song, right”, the blond mutters, his tone quiet but deep and mesmerising regardless.

“It suits you”, Kirishima replies as Bakugou looks at him curiously.

“Okay so if that’s my song, what’s yours?”, he asks, arms still encircling the redhead’s waist.

Kirishima can’t subdue the blush that creeps across his cheekbones.

“Did I guess right with La Vie En Rose?”, he inquires with a smug little grin.

“Maybe”, Kirishima admits, he’s amazed at how quickly Bakugou’s has seen through his façade, the blond seems naturally in tune with every change of expression he makes.

“I know its cliché but it’s what my mum used to sing to me when I was little”, Bakugou’s expression softens but for just a second his gaze darts to look at his watch. Instantly, his eyes widen as he pulls away.

“Oh shit, I’ve got to go! Fuck, I’m sorry”, Kirishima gapes as Bakugou grabs his bag and retreats out the door.

He stands there for a couple of minutes, heart racing as the cars stream down the street outside. Eventually he leaves, locking the door behind him as his mind buzzes with confusion.


“Kiri”, Mina’s voice floats through the corridor as she races towards him. Making her way over as she jostles through the sea of students; she looks excited, eyes bright and grin wide.

“You know I was working the morning shift today? Well a certain guy came in”, Kirishima opens his mouth to respond but before he can ask Mina passes him a takeout cup.

Hastily scribbled on the side are the words…

‘Broken Rhythm’



“Looks like you got yourself a date!”, Mina shrieks, causing everyone in their vicinity to stare at her.

Kirishima can barely form a sentence. Bakugou’s handwriting is messy but legible, just how he imagined it.

“It’s at that gig venue, right”, Mina queries as the redhead nods distractedly.

He’s not sure what Bakugou has planned but he can already feel anticipation fluttering in his stomach; hopefully the events of the night before will be explained. Despite his slight worry, Kirishima can feel himself smiling and knows, in that moment, that Friday cannot arrive quick enough.

Chapter Text

Kirishima is aware that he can’t physically make time move faster, but that doesn’t deter him from willing Friday to arrive for the entire week. If anything, he only achieves in making the seconds crawl by even slower, much to his growing irritation.

In his lectures he absentmindedly scrawls down notes, the teachers voice a distant buzz in his ear. He finds himself unable to concentrate, thoughts all too often floating to recollect the feeling of Bakugou’s hands curled around his hips.

He finds himself at the gym most evenings, attempting to distract himself, music at full volume as he tries to sweat the feeling of Bakugou out of his skin. Thankfully when he gets home, exhaustion normally stops him from contemplating the blond any further.

Bakugou doesn’t appear again during any of Kirishima’s shifts, the redhead is still undecided to whether it’s a curse or a blessing. Although he’d probably spontaneously combust the moment he saw him, another part of him deeply wants to draw one of the elusive smiles to the blond’s lips.

It doesn’t help that the minute a Louis Armstrong or Pink Floyd song finds its way onto the speakers, he’s blushing like an idiot, almost like his heart is trying to beat in time to the rhythm.


When he finally stumbles in on Thursday evening, after a particularly gruelling shift which he’d rather never think about again, his stomach is already rife with butterflies; the thought of seeing Bakugou enough to have grinning.

Kaminari looks up from where he’s watching K-pop on his phone, “Someone’s happy?”, he quips with a smirk. His eyes scan across Kirishima’s stained top and exhausted expression before adding, “Bad shift?”.

Kirishima doesn’t even bother to devise a clever comeback, his heart is thrumming like an erratic bassline; thoughts consumed by wild red eyes and strong hands.

“Yeah, it was hectic. Someone was sick in the toilets and this couple broke up and she threw a plate at the guy”, Kaminari whistles, his expression sympathetic.

“Dodged a bullet with that one”, Kirishima is only a little jealous that Kaminari has had his evening off. By the look of it, he’s spent the last five hours watching compilations of BTS, which isn’t surprising in the least.

“What’s the latest?”, Kirishima asks as he leans over the sofa to peer at the blond’s phone.

“Jimin is an actual angle”, is Kaminari’s unhelpful response as Kirishima moves away in search of food. The thought of cooking anything is beyond comprehension and so the redhead begrudgingly accepts that it looks like instant noodles, one again.

“Did Sero get so sick of you fanboying he left?”, Kirishima teases as he watches Kaminari pout, eyes still glued to the screen.

“He went to the library to finish his essay, I don’t need him anyway I have Jimin’s gorgeous face to keep me company”, Kirishima rolls his eyes and fails to subdue his laugh.

Kaminari’s eloquent response is a muffled ‘fuck off’, which only incites Kirishima to laugh more. He spends the rest of the evening nestled in between the cushions as Kaminari sings loudly in his ear.


That night Kirishima sleeps fitfully, images of Bakugou rising to his subconscious throughout his slumber. When he wakes, the sheets are twisted beneath him and his breath is still ragged; although he can’t remember, there’s the distinct feeling that his dreams were not particularly innocent.

Dragging himself to the bathroom, he allows himself to stand under the jet of the shower for a little longer than usual, partially to steel himself for the day but majorly because he has to deal with his persistent boner.

His classes that day blur past with little distinction, the only respite being an hour in the library with his headphones blaring out Nina Simone.

It’s only by chance that his eyes flicker upwards at the exact moment a familiar blond walks past, hands shoved in his pocket and scowl evident even from where Kirishima is sitting. It is also by some strange coincidence that just as Bakugou turns, the redhead’s phone begins playing ‘Wish You Were Here’.

Without the slightest hint of hesitation, Bakugou slides into the seat across from him. Kirishima can’t help but note the way his arms flex under the weight of the textbooks he’s carrying, in fact he probably stares for a little too long as Bakugou clears his throat and gives him a pointed look.

“When your brains left your dick, I was going to ask whether you’re still up for tonight”, he drawls, looking incredibly self-satisfied as Kirishima tries to stutter out a response.

Reaching over he hooks his finger into the wire of the headphones and tugs them off, pulling them over his own ears as he cocks his head, a look of interest sparking in his eyes.

“Another good choice, I can only assume since you were listening to Pink Floyd because you were thinking of me”, Kirishima almost chokes on his own spit before managing to compose himself somewhat.

But before he can reply, a short girl with sharp cut hair, walks past them slapping Bakugou on the side of the head. The blond’s face contorts with anger and he instantly reaches behind him grabbing the girl’s wrist.

“Stop being an asshole”, she mutters, causing Bakugou to turn to her profanities already falling from his lips.

“Fuck off Jirou”, he snarls before turning to Kirishima who looks utterly confused.

It’s the girl who chooses to elaborate for the redhead’s benefit, “I have the unfortunate curse of being this shitface’s roommate”. She them sends the redhead a genuine smile before adding, “You must be Kirishima, the hot guy from the café, nice to meet you”.

Watching Bakugou splutter in indignation is almost adorable, the blond’s cheeks are notably flushed as he mutters something about finding new roommates. Jirou ignores him as she continues to talk to Kirishima.

“Are you coming to the gig tonight?”, Bakugou shoots her an infuriated glance.

“Shut up idiot, it’s a fucking surprise”, Kirishima turns to the blond, curiosity apparent in his eyes.

“Just be on time, okay?”, Bakugou mumbles before leaning over the table and, with a movement that is almost gentle, he fits the headphones back onto Kirishima’s head.

The blond leaves with one last darting look behind him; Kirishima allows the corners of his lips to curl up in response and almost uncertainly Bakugou smiles back. Not a smirk but a genuine, hesitant smile.


The evening chill has already set in when Kirishima finally steps out of his apartment, the street lights have already fluttered on and the pavement is dotted with people, bundled up in coats and scarfs as they make their way home.

He shivers slightly, whether it’s from the cold or anticipation he isn’t sure, either way excitement courses through his nerves as he sets off.

The street is littered with couples, some clutching cups which leave wispy trails of steam behind them; hands interlinked, sharing subtle glances and simultaneous bursts of laughter.

Kirishima watches them with something akin to longing, he’s aware that relationships are never plain sailing but even the mere thought of lacing his fingers with Bakugou, brings a hint of a smile to his lips.


Broken Rhythm is detached from the highstreets, down an unremarkable alley lined with railings which someone has thoughtfully intertwined with fairy lights.

The minute Kirishima pushes the door open he’s meet with the dusky scent of alcohol and sweat, the room is already packed, a crowd huddled near the stage and another near the bar. The lights are dim and excitement thrums in the air as the stage is still shrouded in darkness.

His eyes flit across the room, searching for the unmistakeable flash of blond but to no avail.

“You must be Kirishima?”, the redhead turns around in confusion to where a woman with long, dark hair sits at the ticket desk, offering a reassuring smile.

“You can just go in”, she adds, ushering him through.

“Ermm, I’m looking for Bakugou?”, he stutters out as bodies horde around him, forcing him further into the crowd, the woman simply smiles at him mysteriously before turning away.

Kirishima sighs in exasperation, trying to push through the mass of people is futile so he stays put, hoping in vain that the blond will find him.

The next few minutes pass in a blur, the heat rising as more people file in and the air humming with anticipation, Kirishima absentmindedly wonders who’s worth this amount of fuss but trusts that Bakugou’s made a good judgement.

You can always tell when a gig’s about to start, it’s almost identical to a concert; the way the air almost stills, the sudden silence, a shift as people look up, eyes wide.

The lights are still soft, just enough to illuminate the stage. A figure, balanced on a stool, a guitar resting on his lap, fingers already poised ready to strum. He looks up and scans the crowd; fierce scarlet eyes and a shock of blond hair.

Kirishima inhales gently and laughs at himself, of course it’s Bakugou. As well as being gorgeous and fascinating, he’s also a musician. Albeit a musician with the audacity to asks someone to his own gig, not that the redhead’s really complaining.

“Hey, I’m going to play some shit, I hope it’s alright”, his voice is almost hushed, he holds the audience in the palm of his hands as they stare up at him enthralled.

“I’ll start with a classic, which is almost ironic considering the weather”, Kirishima is amazed, he is suddenly oozing charisma the volatile guy from early that day is gone.

“Here Comes the Sun”, he mutters before he shifts the guitar and places his finger delicately above the fretboard.

His fingers pluck the first chords and the crowd cheers as George Harrison’s lyrics fall from Bakugou’s lips. His tone is deep and gravelly, imperfect as it should be; the nuances in his voice are intoxicating and Kirishima finds himself unconsciously holding his breath.

The audience sing along, grinning up at the man as he comes to a finish with an understated tilt of his head, not even bothering to introduce the next song as he transitions into ‘While My Guitar Gently Weeps’ which in turn shifts to ‘Stairway to Heaven’.

The reception of each song is uproarious, the crowd shouting and whistling as they plead for another and Kirishima stands amongst it all, falling deeper for Bakugou with every passing second.

It’s as if the blond is plucking his heart strings, with the same dexterity that his fingers skitter across the guitar; the notes come thick and fast, rising and falling.

He finally pauses, grabbing his beer from the floor as he takes a drink, which incites yet another onslaught of shrieking and catcalls; all it takes for the audience to fall silent is for him to open his mouth.

“I don’t generally do jazz, don’t get me wrong I fucking love it, but I can’t live up to the greats. But there’s someone here who I think will appreciate it”.

Kirishima’s heart thunders in his chest as, for the first time that evening, Bakugou meets his gaze. He doesn’t have to say a word, the intensity swimming in his eyes speaking volumes for themselves.

His voice curls silky around ‘Mack the Knife’ and ‘The A Train’, causing Kirishima to idly wonders if he’s died and reached heaven because whatever is happening, is otherworldly.

He’s lost all sense of time; all that matters are Bakugou’s voice and the erratic twang of the guitar resting on his lap.

The next time he stops, his eyes dart straight to Kirishima.

“Right, last one”, he states bluntly as the audience groan in protest.

The blond’s eyes are like the moment a saxophone solo reaches its peak, the notes impossibly high and wild, he is music embodied, fiery and powerful, yet sweet and all consuming. He’s waiting for the opportune moment to start, just as the tension is palpable in the air.

The first chord is so simple and yet Kirishima instantly recognises it and almost rolls his eyes at how sappy the sentiment is but somehow it isn’t, somehow, it’s perfect.

‘La Vie En Rose’, of course. What else would it be?

But then Bakugou just has to make Kirishima fall for him even faster.

"Quand il me prend dans ses bras", the French is word perfect, his accent immaculate and Kirishima can’t help but smile, Bakugou would be the type of person to sing the original in all its sentimental glory.

The blond doesn’t take his eyes of the redhead, not caring if anyone notices that he’s casually serenading Kirishima.

The redhead finds his lips forming the words without thought, he can’t remember when he picked up the original lyrics but they’re already there, nestled into some alcove of his brain.

Kirishima feels akin to the moment the last thrum of the bassline fades away at a concert, body still shaking as the note quivers through the air; he’s alive. And maybe, just a little bit, in love.

His gaze focuses onto a poster on the wall, which proclaims who’s playing each night. As he scans the names, his brain vaguely registers that this would explain the sudden departure that evening; Bakugou had a gig to play. Kirishima can’t feel a little thankful that it’s nothing personal.

And then his eyes are back on the blond as the last verse is played out, Bakugou’s voice eventually fading into silence as the guitar’s last chord filters through the air.

The crowd are instantly making a racket, demanding another song as Bakugou slips of stage with a half smile and a slight nod to acknowledge the audience.

People begin to filter out, muttering in hushed tones about how amazing the blond had been and speculating about whether the hot, and slightly flustered, redhead was the subject of the singer’s interest.

Kirishima just inattentively makes his way to the bar and buys a cider, as the woman from before makes her way over.

“Hi, sorry about earlier I didn’t want to ruin the surprise, I’m Yaoyorozu or Momo if you find it easier”, her voice is polite and soothing, causing Kirishima to instinctively smile back.

“I’m one of his roommates”, she explains just as Jirou walks over, placing a quick kiss to her girlfriend’s cheek.

“Hey, Kirishima glad you could make it”, she hums before an almost impish smile flits across her lips.

“Bakugou will be out in a minute”.

Chapter Text

The room seems duller, now that Bakugou has left the stage, his presence was enough to have the air buzzing with energy and now it’s gone. All that’s left is the stool and microphone, two mundane objects which give little hint to what has just transpired

Kirishima lets himself drain the last of the bottle, the bittersweet tang of the cider leaving a slight burn in his throat. Jirou and Yaoyorozu are talking softly, too wrapped up in one another’s words to pay him any heed. Not that he really minds, nerves flutter in his stomach and he curses himself for acting like a lovestruck teenager.

The alcohol thrums in his veins, a slight warmth spreading over his fingertips. He’s not drunk, barely even tipsy but just the thought of Bakugou leaves him feeling hazy. He inspects the label, eyes lazily wandering over the print as his heart flutters irrationally in his chest.

The truth is, he’s never fallen for someone so fast and so hard.

His entire world is tilting off track but in the most perfect way, that spontaneous, daring glint in Bakugou’s eye has Kirishima weak at the knees and he’d be a fool to pretend otherwise.


Bakugou’s arrival is pre-empted by a string of cussing as he steps out of the back-stage door and mutters something about one of his strings breaking, “Fixing it’s going to be a fucking nightmare”, he announces to no one in particular.

Then he looks up, and Kirishima is pretty sure his heart has ceased moving altogether. The blond’s eyes are bright and alert, still high on adrenaline from performing. He locks their gaze together and grins, something almost predatory glinting in his irises, making his way over with unhurried strides.

Kirishima barely notices Jirou and Yaoyorozu leaving, too lost in Bakugou’s fierce, crimson stare.

“Hey”, he murmurs, scarcely even able to form comprehendible words as Bakugou smirks at him; the curl of his lip is a testament to the confidence and certainty he showed on stage.

Just as Kirishima’s about to tease him about being a smug, self-righteous asshole, a flicker of something akin to uncertainty flashes in his gaze, as if he’s seeking affirmation.

“You were incredible”, the redhead speaks softly and watches as the slightest hint of a blush creeps across the apex of Bakugou’s cheeks.

“Yeah?”, the blond’s voice is gruff but Kirishima can tell he’s hanging onto his every word.

“It was for you”, Bakugou mutters, not a trace of embarrassment in his voice. His words are candid and Kirishima can’t help but avert his eyes for second, overwhelmed by the subtle nuances of desire residing in his voice.

“You and your stupid, pretty eyes and shitty hair and smile”, the words tumble out of the blond’s mouth; it’s as if the syllables are chasing one another, tripping and stumbling as they try to find the right sentiment. Instantly, Kirishima can feel a flutter of happiness jolt in his stomach as he tries to devise a quick-witted reply.

Before he can so much as open his mouth Bakugou’s hand is cupping his jaw, lifting his chin so they’re looking at one another once more. The gesture is so gentle but full of unbridled power, Kirishima vaguely realises that the fingertips, which are now softly pressed to his skin, have been dancing over guitar strings all evening. They are a little rough, calloused almost, and it sparks something needy to curl deep in his stomach.

“I didn’t know you could speak French”, Kirishima mumbles trying to focus on anything that isn’t his desperate need to have Bakugou’s arms around him.

“The pronunciation’s a fucking bitch but I can speak the basics”, the way he says it, is almost modest.

“Oh”, is the only coherent noise the redhead can muster because in that moment Bakugou moves closer, just a hairs breadth away from his lips. He’s so near, Kirishima can smell the alcohol on his breath, not overpowering but just a soft scent that makes him want to lean forward and taste it.

Bakugou’s hand hasn’t moved from Kirishima’s jaw, and so he lets his thumb drift across the redhead’s lower lip, evoking a notably shaky breath.

Kirishima can feel the warmth of Bakugou’s breath every time he exhales, almost indistinctively he moves a touch closer, allowing their lips to brush against one another.

The subtle hint is enough to incite the blond to finally close the distance, Kirishima would laugh with joy if he wasn’t being kissed. Bakugou tastes of beer and the redhead wouldn’t ask for anything different, his mind still swimming with the blond’s voice as he parts his lips without a trace of hesitation.

Bakugou chuckles, and Kirishima can feel the curve of his smile; humming with gentle contentment as the blond slips his tongue past his lips.

They stand like that, for an immeasurable amount of time. The seconds ticking by, go unnoticed by them both, all that matters is one another. Every point of connection, burns with a flickering passion; Kirishima’s arms around the blond’s neck, Bakugou’s hands around the redhead’s waist, their lips and tongues, everything intertwining and touching.

Kirishima revels in it, losing himself utterly to sensation. Loses himself in Bakugou, who tastes of alcohol and smells of coffee.

“We’re closing”, Kirishima jolts away as his eyes flash towards the bar tender who raises an eyebrow with a small smirk.

“I don’t want to ruin your fun but the sooner you get the home the sooner you can fuck, right?”, he adds with another infuriating grin. Bakugou turns to him with a scowl but manages to stop himself from causing the guy any physical harm.

Without a hint of hesitation, the blond grabs Kirishima’s hand and swings the guitar case over his shoulder, kicking the door open with his foot as he tugs the redhead after him.

Kirishima stumbles after him, a slight smile playing on his lips as Bakugou mutters something about being cockblocked.

They step out onto the street and into the chill of the night air, the cold bites against Kirishima’s skin and he instinctively gasps, leaning into Bakugou, who is still radiating warmth like a furnace. The blond doesn’t say anything but Kirishima swears he sees the man smirk slightly at the gesture.

The street lights are almost dazzling in the evening sky, sending photons waltzing across the pavement and as the redhead tilts his face to the sky he can see the distant flicker of thousands of stars.

It’s cliché and sappy but Kirishima couldn’t care less, suddenly he’s beginning to understand what all the rom coms were getting at. Just being with Bakugou is enough.

“You’re shivering like a fucking baby fawn”, Bakugou comments as their footsteps echo down the street.

“I’m fine, I probably drank too much coffee earlier”, Kirishima murmurs. From the corner of his eye he watches as Bakugou shrugs off his jacket and without asking, slips it over the redhead’s shoulders.

“No, it’s fine, I promise I’m not cold”, Kirishima protests weakly, noticing that the coat is still warm from where it’s brushed against Bakugou’s skin.

“Bullshit, anyway I’m trying to be a good boyfr-”, Bakugou trails of into a cough as a blush begins to steadily climb across his cheeks.

“A good what?”, Kirishima teases gently, nudging the blond’s shoulder as he grins up at him.

“Fuck off”, is Bakugou’s choked reply as he slips his hand around Kirishima’s waist and pulls him closer.

“I’ll spit in your drink next time if you don’t tell me”, he threatens as the blond furrows his brow.

“I literally just had my tongue in your mouth, idiot”, Bakugou retorts, voice laced with amusement.

“Are you too scared to tell me?”, the redhead jibes, he can’t help but love the way the blond gets flustered

“Stop being an asshole. I’m walking you home, aren’t we meant to be talking about sappy shit”, Bakugou growls back, the timbre of his voice is enough to have desire tugging at Kirishima’s subconscious.

“Alright Prince Charming”, the redhead hums back in amusement, turning to look up at Bakugou’s expression. The blond suddenly looks immensely pleased with himself, his face bathed in a mixture of moonlight and the artificial gleam of the street lights.

“What are you looking so smug about?”, Kirishima asks curiously before the blond smiles at him slyly.

“What you’d look like in a Cinderella outfit”.

Kirishima almost falls off the pavement but Bakugou’s arm keeps him steady, impulsively tightening around his hips.

“So, I managed to fall for a closet pervert?”, the redhead laughs as his breath creates opaque puffs in the air in front of him. He watches, enthralled, as the edges of Bakugou’s eyes crinkle up as he smiles slightly.

“Fall for, huh?”, Kirishima doesn’t even bother denying it, and instead, chooses to hum in agreement.

Bakugou leans down to press a fleeting kiss to the redhead’s check, the movement is surprisingly affectionate and Kirishima almost falls into the path of the oncoming traffic for the second time that evening.

They continue down the street, the pavement glistening with frost as aimless chatter floats out of the nearby restaurants. Kirishima barely registers his surroundings, he’s too busy sneaking inconspicuous glances up at the blond’s face.

“You live in the apartment blocks, near the science lecture hall, right?”, Bakugou inquires before hastily adding, “Jirou knows Kaminari”, as if he doesn’t want the redhead to suspect him of being creepy.

“Yeah, knowing Kaminari he’ll probably have flooded the bathroom and set fire to at least five things by the time I get back”, Kirishima complains good naturedly as Bakugou chuckles.

It’s at that moment, that the blond’s hand dips lower, moving to fit snugly into the back pocket of Kirishima’s jeans. Before the redhead can respond, Bakugou removes his hand and Kirishima notices his phone nestled into the musician’s dexterous fingers.

He tosses Kirishima a careless smirk, and the redhead reminds himself for the millionth time that passwords would save him a lot of stress.

When he passes it back, there’s a new contact in his phone which reads ‘the hot musician’.

“You’re so modest”, Kirishima teases even though the name is painfully accurate.

“You’d have been on the stage, in my lap given half the chance”, Bakugou’s voice is playful but underneath the surface his tone lilts with the soft suggestion of desire.


As they turn onto Kirishima’s street, he feels Bakugou press his own phone into his palm, only allowing him to type in the number before he’s snatching it back.

“Hey!”, Kirishima protests, childish pout already forming on his lips. Bakugou grins back sadistically as he shows the redhead the screen.

It reads, ‘slut for jazz’.

“You’re a complete asshole”, Kirishima mock grumbles, knocking Bakugou’s shoulder gently as their eyes meet and the blond shoots him a playful smile.

“It’s a compliment, you’ve got great taste in music”.

“And a shitty taste in guys”, Kirishima fires back with a mischievous grin.

They’re so lost in conversation, Kirishima barely realises that they’ve arrived. He’s never been so unwilling to go inside, he’d be happy to trail the pavements all night, lost in Bakugou’s voice and touch, way into the small hours of the morning.

As they pause outside the door, Kirishima slips the coat of his shoulders and passes it back. Instantly the cold washes over him, as if the coat was somehow an extension of Bakugou’s embrace.

The blond accepts it, and gives Kirishima a wry smile before pulling him into a searing kiss, it’s hurried and almost anxious as if both of them want to pour every unsaid word into the touch before the door closes between them.

Bakugou’s hands are tangled into Kirishima’s windswept hair as the redhead lets his hands trace the sharp jut of Bakugou’s hipbones, where they emanate a gentle warmth, like the soft glow of a fire.

Kirishima’s lips tingle slightly when they part, a delicate reminder of what has just occurred. His mouth quirks upwards as Bakugou burrows his face into the crook of his shoulder and mutter something about not wanting to leave.

“I’ll text you soon and you better fucking reply”, he grumbles without malice.

“Of course”, Kirishima replies gently, pressing a kiss to the blond’s jawline.

Then the door’s swinging shut and Kirishima has the strong urge to run straight back out, grab Bakugou’s hand and walk aimlessly through the streets with him, laughing and falling even deeper in love. Instead he allows himself a small smile and absentmindedly traces the lines where Bakugou’s fingers were wrapped around his hand.

He only breaks out of his reverie when he’s hit with the horrible realisation that he has a five-thousand-word essay due the next day. It turns out that his priorities are generally headed by fantasising about Bakugou but he doubts masturbating is an excuse his professor will readily accept. Regardless, he falls asleep with the memory of Bakugou's touch still smouldering on his skin.

Chapter Text

George Harrison’s voice cadences over the speakers as Kirishima’s shift draws to a, much welcomed, close. Between lectures and work he feels as if the past week has given him little time to spend with Bakugou.

His days have been nothing short of hectic but whether it’s a fleeting chat in the library or a stolen kiss whilst they’re walking across campus, they’ve still managed to find snippets of time for one another.

The weekend promises the chance of Kirishima spending more than a couple of minutes with his boyfriend, a prospect he can’t help grinning about as he chirpily welcomes every customer. It’s become somewhat of a tradition for Bakugou to turn up near to closing time, so he can sling an arm around Kirishima’s shoulders, press a kiss to his cheek and walk him home.

A quick glance at the clock confirms the blond will arrive soon, the thought causes another unbidden smile to quirk Kirishima’s lips up.

“Dude, you’re getting paid for working not for fantasising about Bakugou”, Kaminari teases as he passes him a cup.

“Says the guy who went to ‘get more milk’ and actually spent ten minutes getting a blowjob of his boyfriend”, Kirishima retorts as Kaminari splutter an indignant protest.

Just as he’s about to tease Kaminari further he looks up, ready to greet the next customer.

He inhales sharply and keeps his eyes trained on the guy in front of him. His senses are alert and thrumming with something akin to fear; the guy merely smirks, a cold, cruel smile. The redhead remembers it all too well, remembers being manipulated and toyed with like it was only yesterday.

All of a sudden, his breath is ragged, he wants to run but forces himself to stay, to keep his eyes up and not give in.

It’s futile.

He cowers away from the man’s gaze, terrified of the memories rising to the surface of his consciousness. Pathetic, he thinks, it’s pathetic how he isn’t even able to stand up for himself. But there’s something about the calculating glint in the man’s eyes that makes him freeze.

Images rise in his head, a hand yanking his wrist hard. Sounds thundering in his ears, caustic shouting telling him he’s ‘worthless’.

“So Eijirou how’ve you been?”, there’s a power in his voice that Kirishima has never really forgotten. The way his words twist around his tongue is enough to have the redhead’s throat go dry.

“Fine”, it’s purposefully blunt, the less he says the less control he gives to the guy who held him captive. Looking back, Kirishima can see it was never a relationship but a way of his ex being able to manipulate someone.

“Good to hear”, he chuckles without mirth and the very sound makes the redhead shiver.

Passing the man his drink, he avoids eye contact and doesn’t look up till he’s gone. The dark, swirling cloud of fear doesn’t diminish after he’s left, if anything Kirishima can feel himself getting more uneasy.

Slipping out from behind the counter, tray in hand, he looks up to see Bakugou with his arms folded, and gaze flickering with anger. He’s just about to greet him when his boyfriend cuts in…

“Who was that?”, the blond demands, eyes flashing with untamed anger. Kirishima has no doubt that Bakugou can sense just how scared he is but admitting the truth seems like an impossibility.

“No one important, just an old friend”, he replies, desperately trying to keep his voice nonchalant but Bakugou is clearly not buying it.

“Why the fuck was he looking at you like that?”, this time the blond’s voice is nothing short of a snarl; Kirishima knows the malice isn’t aimed at him but it still sends a chill racing across his skin.

“We were in a relationship but only for a couple of months”, he gives in, watching as Bakugou’s face contorts with anger.

“What the hell aren’t you telling me, Kirishima?”, his voice is getting louder by the second and the redhead gives a furtive glance around the café as people begin to look up.

“Nothing, it just ended badly, that’s all. Please Bakugou, just leave it”, for a second it looks as if the blond’s going to refuse but finally his eyes soften, and he steps away.

“Shit, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just the way he was looking at you… I didn’t like it, he looked like he wanted to hurt you”, as the words tumble out of his mouth the blond intertwines his fingers with Kirishima’s.

“You looked really fucking scared”, it’s almost whispered and Kirishima falters for a second as he watches the genuine anxiety dance in Bakugou’s gaze.

“I promise I’ll talk to you about it later”, the blond gives a quick nod and squeezes Kirishima’s hand.

“Fine, but I’m walking you home”.

“I don’t care”, he adds as he sees the defiant look in Kirishima’s eyes, “I want you to be safe”.


Bakugou had told him earlier that he’d be in the music store over the street and so after Kirishima has tugged on his coat, he steps out into the bracing chill of the twilight air.

His unease still lingers from earlier, but it’s begun to dissipate, the thought of Bakugou’s hand in his is enough of a distraction to calm has heart rate. All the same, something in the air doesn’t seem right and it makes Kirishima’s skin prickle.

He’s barely taken a step, when an unyielding grip is tightening around his wrist and a coarse voice is floating through the night air, “Took your time, didn’t you?”.

Kirishima’s heard the phrase ‘blood turned to ice’ a million times, but in that moment, it suddenly becomes all too real. It’s like his senses have stopped working, frozen in dread as the grip around his skin twists and forces him to look up.

Takahashi sneers down at him, gaze swimming with poorly concealed triumph. The same chestnut hair and brown eyes stare back and for a minute Kirishima can almost remember the scarce happiness they’d shared together.

One lone weekend when, he’d bothered to make time for Kirishima where his goal wasn’t just to have sex. They’d lazed on the sofa and watched ‘Friends’ reruns and for one fleeting moment he’d believed that it would all work out

“It was sweet that your friends came to your rescue, I still remember Kaminari and that bitch Ashido telling me that they weren’t going to let me near you ever again. Seems that they’ve failed, you know, I never even heard it from your own mouth that you didn’t want to be with me”.

Kirishima feels each word sink deeper into his limbs, paralyzing him where he stands as he tries to stutter out a response.

“Of course, I didn’t, y-you just used me and-”, the hold around his wrist tightens and all of a sudden there’s a wall behind his back; the stone cold as it digs into his back like a warning.

“Quit you’re whining, for fucks sake, we had fun, didn’t we?”, Takahashi snaps back and now there’s a more dangerous edge to his tone and all Kirishima can do is push against the hands immobilising him and look desperately across the street.

The pavement is deserted, not a single soul but the odd car rushing past, without a backwards glance for the man recoiling away from the touch of his ex-lover.

“You hit me!”, Kirishima almost shouts back, finally finding his voice as he recollects the night Takahashi’s hand first left bruises on his face.

“Only a couple of times and, of course, only when you deserved it”, the brunette croons back and now Kirishima’s really fighting, pressing against his captor with all his might.

“C’mon stop being such a brat”.

Whatever was left to say, stays unsaid as Takahashi’s knocked down onto the concrete, his eyes flashing with fury as he looks up to see Bakugou towering above him.

In that moment the last of Kirishima’s strength disappears and he collapses onto the ground, barely concealing the shaky sob that rushes forth from his throat.

Bakugou stands there like fire embodied, shaking with rage as he stares with contempt at the man beneath him.

“You ever, ever so much as look at Kirishima again and I will kill you. Do you fucking understand? Now get out of my sight before I call the police”, Bakugou’s voice trembles with a seething rage, he speaks almost quietly and with control but each syllable simmers with vicious intent. Watching as Takahashi hastily pushes himself off the pavement and hurriedly walks away, without so much as a backwards glance.

No words are exchanged as Bakugou pulls Kirishima into a tight embrace, all his warmth and comfort steading the redhead’s breath as he lets the tears meander down his cheeks.

“I’m here, Kiri. It’s fine… I’ve got you”, he murmurs gently as Kirishima feels his body relent into his boyfriend’s touch.

“B-Bakugou”, it’s the only word he can muster as he clings ever tighter. Strong, calloused hands stroking through his hair as Bakugou reassures him with soft words.

“I’ll call a taxi, I don’t think walking is a good idea right now”, Bakugou mutters, making the call as the redhead presses his head into his chest and listens to the beat of his heart.

After he’s finished the call, Kirishima feels Bakugou’s hands nestling under his chin making him lift his gaze. When he tries to smile he can feel the rivulets that his tears have made and watches as Bakugou’s eyes cloud with concern.

“Kiri where do you want to go? You can stay with me tonight if it’d make you feel better?”, Kirishima manages a nod, feeling his resolve returning. The fear ebbing away as he reminds himself that his past is gone, and he has his future with Bakugou before him.

In the taxi, Bakugou holds him close giving him an anchor to reality as he shakily sends Kaminari a text saying he won’t be home tonight. He’s sure the blond will take it as a confirmation of him getting laid but the thought of explaining what has just occurred is just too much.


The apartment is surprisingly clean but the fact that it’s inhabitants are musicians doesn’t go unnoticed. Shelves of CDs and records line the walls and there’s at least five guitars in sight as well as a bass lent against the coffee table.

Instantly Kirishima relaxes, the room screams of Bakugou and it manages to tug a smile to his lips; he’s only pulled from his musings when his boyfriend speaks.

“Jirou is staying with her parents over the weekend and Momo’s gone with her”, he explains as he begins to make some tea watching Kirishima like a hawk, searching for any sign of discomfort.

“You could always take one of their beds or something”, he says offhandedly and Kirishima notes the uncertainty in his voice.

“If it’s okay with you can I… can I sleep with you?”, thankfully the blond understands and gives him a nod before tugging him into yet another hug. He seems relaxed but Kirishima can tell he’s still bothered about Takahashi.

Passing the redhead his cup, Bakugou leads them into his room allowing himself to sit against the headboard as Kirishima huddles into his chest; their bodies melding together.

“You wanna talk about it?”, it’s not a command, in fact it’s barely a question. As if Bakugou wants him to only explain if he feels comfortable. But Kirishima can still here his desperate curiosity in every enunciation; he doesn’t want Bakugou to worry and deep down he knows it’ll help to admit everything.

And so he closes his eyes and calms the pounding in his heart before starting to speak.

“He’s called Takahashi and we met at the start of uni”, he pauses to steady his breath before continuing.

“At the time he seemed really nice and I was a naïve idiot who didn’t see through his mask. Kaminari and Ashido were wary of him from the start but I didn’t even realise that he was tearing me away from them, trying to keep me cut off from everyone but him till I had nowhere else to go”, he speaks without emotion trying to stop the tidal wave of hurt surging forth from his throat.

“We weren’t even together for long but after about a month he started to get… cruel, I guess, if I didn’t do as he said it always led to arguments which would lead to makeup sex and…”, he pauses and Bakugou pulls him closer eyes swimming with apprehension as he anticipates what’s about to be said.

“He hit me”, Bakugou inhales and his eyes flash with sudden horror.

“He did fucking what?!”, the blond snarls before taking a deep breath, “Kiri, for fucks sake please tell me you went to the police?”, all Kirishima can do is shake his head and recall the night it had happened; the sudden sting across his cheek.

“I- no I didn’t, thankfully it only happened a couple more times until Kaminari realised what was happening and confronted me about it and managed to get me out of the situation”.

“Only a couple of times”, Bakugou repeats under his breath, anger lacing every word.

“I will never let him near you again, I know you don’t need anyone to protect you but I’m here”, the bond’s voice curls into Kirishima’s heart and settles there, emanating warmth.

“I know”, he whispers back allowing Bakugou to place a soft kiss to his lips before he leans over and grabs his guitar.

“I want to make you forget about it, everything that bastard ever did to you”, Kirishima nods as Bakugou continues in a softer tone.

“I’ve been practising something for you”, Kirishima looks up inquisitively as the blond moves to balance the instrument onto his lap, giving him an almost proud grin as he strums the first chord.

“Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars”, he sings with his voice hushed and Kirishima watches completely enraptured as his finger skip across the fretboard.

He plays and sings till the redhead’s very skin is laced with music, his thoughts completely lost in the nuances of Bakugou’s voice. When he finishes with a soft quirk of his lip Kirishima moves forward and pulls him into a kiss, tasting green tea on his tongue.

The guitar lies next to them on the bed as Bakugou lets Kirishima fall back into the sheets. The redhead letting out a shuddering gasp as the blond trails his fingers underneath his top, tracing the dips of his muscles and pressing featherlight kisses across his abdomen. Every touch burning constellations of desire into Kirishima’s skin.

His breath hitches unintentionally causing Bakugou to smirk up at him, “You like that?”, he mumbles against the redhead’s skin. Kirishima nods before his eyes roll back into his head as the blond gently bites and sucks leaving subtle marks across his chest.

As Bakugou works his way across Kirishima’s collar bone, the redhead lets slip a yawn as his exhaustion finally catches up with him. Almost instantly, the blond looks up eyes surprisingly gentle although still simmering with lust.

“You tired?”, he hums as Kirishima begins to protest.

“No, we can carry on! I want to-”

“We can carry on tomorrow, you’ve had a fucking difficult day and I don’t want to go any further today after everything’s that’s happened”, Kirishima looks up at him, eyes brimming with appreciation at the kindness his boyfriend is displaying.

“Thank you”, he sighs as Bakugou pulls him to his chest till their spooning, hands caressing his hips as he’s lulled into sleep.

“Baku, we haven’t changed or brushed our teeth”, Kirishima mutter sleepily. He’s not entirely sure why he’s bringing it up as he has no intention of moving from Bakugou’s embrace.

“Hmmm, don’t care”, the blond responds childishly as he places a lingering kiss to the nape of Kirishima’s neck.

“Night, Katsuki”, Kirishima whispers, for the first time daring to use Bakugou’s given name.

“Night, Eijirou”. His name has never sounded so perfect.

They fall asleep with limbs intertwined and breaths mingling; Kirishima has never felt more loved.

Chapter Text

The morning light filters into the room, dusting the bed in sunshine as Kirishima stretches languidly across the mattress. He’s barely awake, just on the edge of consciousness but the warmth around his waist is still perceptible. Bakugou’s hand splays across his stomach, his fingers brushing gently across the redhead’s skin every time he shifts.

The blond’s breath fans across his neck, eliciting a slight shiver as he loses himself in the sensation of the body pressed against him. He watches, utterly enthralled, as Bakugou’s eyes flutter open and his pupils grow accustomed to the light.

“Hey”, he manages, voice still heavily tainted by sleep as Bakugou quirks his lips up in response. The blond doesn’t utter a word as he pulls Kirishima to his chest and places fleeting kisses across his shoulder blades.

His limbs are slow to react, still weighed down by the remnants of slumber but his body still shivers in response to his boyfriend’s touches. The smile on Bakugou’s face is ever so slightly smug as he skims a hand across Kirishima’s chest evoking the softest hint of a whimper.

Then his hand is dipping lower, just threatening to pass an unspoken line which neither of them have yet dared to cross. He pauses, fingertips just brushing the hem of Kirishima’s boxers and waits. The redhead hums lowly under his breath as he allows his hips to push into Bakugou’s touch.

“Is that a yes?”, the blond queries sounding incredibly conceited and Kirishima can just picture how self-satisfied he probably looks right now.

“Maybe”, he teases back as his boyfriend’s finger begin to trail circles across his hips in unhurried, dexterous movements.

“How can I convince you?”, he growls softly into Kirishima’s hair. The soft laugh that erupts from the redhead’s lips is accompanied by a sudden ingenious and slightly questionable idea. But the thought of such dirty things falling from Bakugou’s mouth prompts him to continue.

“Tell me what you’re going to do”, he suggests allowing his tone to become softer and ever so slightly needy. The purr that spills forth from Bakugou’s throat is nothing short of sinful and Kirishima revels in it.

“What am I going to do, huh? I’m going to kiss and bite across your thighs, getting higher and higher till you can’t bear it, until you’re begging. Then I’m going to take you into my mouth and go so, so slowly, I’m going to make you feel amazing Eijirou”, his voice tails of as Kirishima twists his neck to peer into eyes aglow with lust.

“That sound good?”, Bakugou inquires with a predatory grin as his voice cracks with the residue of sleep. Kirishima can’t even form a comprehendible sentence, instead he merely nods as his boyfriend moves to nestle in between his legs, the covers carelessly pushed to the side of the mattress.

He starts as promised, nipping at the sensitive skin of Kirishima’s inner thigh before laving across the marks with a tongue brimming with desire. Movements slow and sensuous as he edges higher.

Every time he pulls away Kirishima catches a glimpse of the blond’s smirk; the curl of Bakugou’s lip is everywhere on the redhead’s skin, leaving behind a scorching trail of badly concealed lust.

Bruises begin to blossom across Kirishima’s skin, they’re bathed in the morning sunlight and for a second Bakugou moves back to admire his work. The redhead’s breath stutters as he sees the pride in his boyfriend’s gaze. Instantly Bakugou’s eyes flit up and Kirishima catches a glimpse of pupils blown wide before the tangle of blond dips down again.

This time he moves with more purpose and Kirishima can barely keep his voice under control, his lips parting without permission and airy moans escaping unbidden from his throat. Bakugou’s so close and the promise of what’s next has Kirishima soaking his boxers in precome.

Thoughtlessly he brings a hand to push through his hair, trying to distract himself from the arousal curling deep in crotch. It burns needy and desperate, just like the build up of a song as the instruments reach higher pitches and faster melodies before the climax hits.

It’s almost shameful. How worked up he is by a little foreplay, Bakugou’s barely touched him and yet Kirishima feels like he’s on the brink of one of the most intense orgasms of his life. He squirms, unsure whether he wants to escape or get closer as the bedsheets shift underneath him.

“K-Katsuki, fuck…”, he moans as finally Bakugou moves to push his underwear away and lick tentatively at the head of his cock.

Bakugou’s movements are deft and self-assertive, toying with the redhead’s slit before moving lower and sucking slowly as he watches Kirishima come apart underneath him. Head tilted back into the pillow, back undulating as he arches off the bed as his moans begin to gain in volume.

Kirishima’s not even trying to conceal them anymore, allowing himself to whine desperately as each moan tails off before being replaced by an even louder, sluttier version. He wasn’t even aware he could act like this, need someone’s touch so badly.

His hips buck into Bakugou’s mouth as the friction and the heat threaten to push him over the edge.

And he wants it, wants it so bad it hurts. To utterly succumb to the heavenly pleasure and allow Bakugou to watch him come undone.

Kirishima’s always found it difficult to surrender himself completely to his partner, never feeling totally comfortable. It manifested in the smallest of ways; adverting his eyes when he came, holding in the noises that tried to escape his lips. Looking back, it’s probably because he never fully trusted any of his boyfriend’s, never felt as comfortable with them as he does with Bakugou.

So, for the first time in his life Kirishima allows himself to surrender completely and revel in the pure bliss that his boyfriend is providing. Bakugou’s skilled to say the least, his mouth seeking out all the places which have Kirishima’s toes curling and thighs trembling as he’s dragged closer and closer to his imminent undoing.

Biting his lip, he allows his eyes to drop down and meet with fiery crimson as Bakugou shoots him a lustful glance. It’s in that instant that the blond takes him to the base with so much ease that Kirishima would probably congratulate him if his mouth wasn’t occupied by moaning in a continuous sinful melody.

Bakugou nuzzles into Kirishima’s naval as his throat constricts around the redhead’s cock; the sensation pulls Kirishima to the very brink as he tips his head back with a wanton gasp and spreads his legs wider.

For just a second Kirishima muses upon the fact that he’s barely been awake for twenty minutes and yet is receiving the best blowjob of his life, but his thoughts are quickly spiralling away as Bakugou pulls back to hollow his cheeks and sucks… hard.

Whatever rational thought left in Kirishima’s heads quickly departs as his orgasm hits him with the force of a truck. Mind blanking as a wave of pleasure assaults his senses, he’s moaning with no restraint when a scream of Bakugou’s name is ripped from his throat.

He continues panting as he descends from his high, vision still blurry and body quaking with the aftermath of such intense pleasure.

And then there’s Bakugou. Smirking from between Kirishima’s thighs, the remnants of the come he hasn’t swallowed painting his lips and chin. A picture of carnal need as his eyes smoulder with something dark.

Kirishima manoeuvres himself till he’s sitting, barely managing to whisper Bakugou’s name before they’re kissing violently, and his hand is snaking down to push away the blond’s boxers and wrap around his dick. Their movements are hungry, desperate almost as if no matter how much they’re touching it’s not enough.

Although Kirishima is still sluggish after his orgasm, just seeing the desire dancing in Bakugou’s eyes has him willing to continue. So, he moves with dexterity, thumbing just under the head and curling his fingers tight enough to make the friction burn sweetly.

“Feel good?”, he asks almost uncertainly as Bakugou whimpers aloud. It’s the purest sound Kirishima’s ever had the good fortune to witness, how anyone can sound so angelic with fingers curled around they’re cock is a miracle but Kirishima’s not complaining.

Bakugou all but collapses into Kirishima’s chest as he comes, his moans turning to gasps which eventually even out until his breath comes in soft whispers across Kirishima’s neck.

Without so much as a thought, he slips his arms around Bakugou as they fall back onto the bed, limbs intertwined. Inhaling in synch as both their chests heave with exertion. Kirishima takes the moment of calm to scan the room, eyes falling upon the medical textbooks scattered across Bakugou’s desk.

It’s endearing to see pages of notes aimlessly piled across the surface, in teetering stacks. It reminds him that despite Bakugou seeming like an actual, guitar playing, angel he’s still a student trying to survive university.

“You still smell like coffee, s’nice”, Bakugou mumbles from where he’s encased in Kirishima’s arms, wriggling slightly as he looks up.

In all his sleep ridden and post orgasmic glory he stares with the same confidence as always, eyes crinkling up into a smile as he presses his lips to Kirishima’s making the redhead chuckle gently.

“You never told me morning Bakugou was so… cute”, Kirishima teases as his boyfriend glares at him.

“I’m not cute!”, he retorts quickly, eyes dancing with well humoured anger as he swings a leg across Kirishima’s waist until he’s straddling him. Before the redhead has a chance to wriggle away Bakugou leans down to swipe a finger through his come which is coating Kirishima’s chest.

Without a hint of hesitation, he flicks his tongue out and laps up the white rivulets that trail down onto his palm. Kirishima briefly wonders if somewhere between falling asleep and waking up he ascended to some higher plane of being.

“Do you literally have no shame?”, he whines as heat surges across his cheeks which is only exacerbated by the playful grin Bakugou shoots back.

“Absolutely none and you fucking love it”, he states with unrestrained smugness, prompting Kirishima to start trying to deny the blatantly obvious. Bakugou merely smirks and allows his fingertips to graze across the redhead’s lips.

The little self-control Kirishima was still harbouring flies out the window as he parts his lips allowing the come to drip into his mouth. Bakugou hums sounding far too pleased with himself.

The moment is broken with a jolt as somewhere from the floor the sound of a ringtone blares through the room. The music continues, obnoxiously loud, as Kirishima crawls off the bed in search of the source.

As he does so he hears Bakugou’s voice, laced with laughter drifting over to him.

“Is your ringtone Dope by BTS?”, he asks chuckling as Kirishima glares at him.

“Kaminari happened to change it and so what if I like it?”, he pouts back, finally locating his phone amidst a pile of clothes.

“I’m not judging, even I can admit it’s a fucking tune”.

Kirishima smiles triumphantly, finding it oddly satisfying that the Pink Floyd loving, sex god he’s somehow seduced also had a soft spot for K-pop.

However, his happiness is cut short when he sees the caller ID, brow instantly furrowing as he debates answering it.

He loves his parents, he truly does but their last meeting had left him with a sour taste in his mouth.

Six years after his first realisation of his sexuality he had finally gathered the courage to come out to his parents. The revelation had been received with about as much acceptance as he’d feared, his mother scrunching her nose up and promising him it was little more than a phase. His dad’s reaction had been worse, barely looking him in the eye for the rest of the time he was home. In all honesty, returning to uni and his shared apartment had been nothing short of a blessing.

“Hello”, his voice is soft almost scared. He hasn’t spoken to either of them since and has been dreading this moment for months.

“Hello, darling! How have you been doing?”, his mum’s voice sounds a little to cheery as if the sound waves have distorted the true sentiment in her words.

“Fine”, he mumbles back, trying to keep his answers curt. He doesn’t want the conversation stretching out for any longer than necessary.

The sudden urge to tell her that barely five minutes ago he had been enjoying a mind-blowing blowjob from a guy, is strong but he swallows the rebellion lingering on his tongue knowing it’ll do him no favours.

He spies Bakugou staring at him from the bed, eyes inquisitive and ever so slightly apprehensive. The blond instantly noticed the flicker of fear in Kirishima’s expression and the way his body is held taught, like a rabbit court in a snare. It’s enough to have worry burning in his gut.

“Wonderful, I’m glad to hear it. Your father and I are visiting your auntie, so we thought we could come see you? It’s been awhile, and we want to make sure you’re doing okay”.

Kirishima can’t comprehend her tone, she sounds sincere but he’s pretty sure what she means is that they want to check he’s looking for a girlfriend and not messing around with any guys. The problem is, deep down, they’re still his parents who read him stories as a child, baked his birthday cakes, dried his tears and kissed his cuts and scratches. So, he gives them the benefit of the doubt.

“Yeah sure, just come around this afternoon”, he replies trying to sound as genuinely happy as he can.

“Lovely! We’ll see you later, bye sweetheart”, her tone is cheerful, positive, uplifting even and he can’t help but hope everything will turn out for the better.

Setting his phone down, he glances back up to Bakugou who still looks anxious.

“What was that about, coffee shop boy?”, Kirishima can’t help but snort at the nickname which thankfully makes Bakugou relax slightly.

“Just my mum, her and my dad are coming to see me later”, Bakugou tilts his head curiously.

“And…”, he prompts sensing Kirishima isn’t telling the whole story. Holding back whatever was making his eyes cloud with anxiety.

“They… they’re not really cool with the whole being gay thing”, he stutters back as Bakugou’s face contorts into a grimace.

“Shit”, he murmurs back, moving to pull Kirishima into a tight, reassuring embrace.

“I would say it’s okay, but I guess it really fucking isn’t”, he adds with so much compassion it almost makes Kirishima well up.

“It’s fine, honestly it is. We’ll work through it, I want them to meet you”, Bakugou looks shocked for a second before he regains his composure and nods.

“If that’s what you want”, he sounds confident and so self-assured that Kirishima can feel his resolve returning. It’s going to be okay, if Bakugou’s with him they can work through it.

Lips curling up into the smallest of smiles, he places a languid kiss to his boyfriend’s mouth; eyes open as he watches Bakugou return the gesture. It’s enough to fill him with hope as well as a warmth that spreads from his heart throughout his body, infecting his veins with something he’s all too certain is love.

Chapter Text

They walk back to Kirishima’s shared apartment with their hands intertwined and a thoughtful silence between them. It’s far from uncomfortable, Bakugou’s aware that Kirishima has enough on his mind without him making sarcastic comments the whole way there so he refrains from speaking; choosing instead to revel in the warmth of his boyfriend’s palm.

Kirishima barely perceives anything as he walks, mind almost drowning in anxiety as his footsteps hit the pavement in a rhythm akin to his erratic heartbeat. He’s thankful for Bakugou’s silence, despite the lack of words there’s reassurance in his every touch.

In the way he holds Kirishima’s hand a little tighter, rubbing his thumb absentmindedly across his knuckles. Or in the way he pulls the redhead a little closer before affectionately ruffling his hair, with eyes that are surprisingly docile considering his usual demure.

His unspoken kindness manages to pull the smallest of smiles to Kirishima’s lips and he’s suddenly incredibly grateful that this bundle of arrogance, sarcasm, compassion and gentleness tumbled into his life. Bakugou’s flawed, just like everyone else but Kirishima’s pretty sure he could fall in love with every single shortcoming.

He allows himself a soft laugh as he notices how beautiful Bakugou’s jawbone looks bathed in sunlight, casting shadows onto his neck.

“What you sniggering at?”, Bakugou asks playfully prodding Kirishima’s cheek as he raises his eyebrow, eyes inquisitive.

“Just appreciating your jawline”, he replies watching as Bakugou’s lips quirk up with amusement.

“It’s good to know the only reason you’re with me is to observe the angle of my fucking jawbone”, his tone is coquettish despite the accusation in his words.

“And your dick”, Kirishima fires back, smile mischievous as Bakugou bumps into his side with a mirrored smile. The tension in Kirishima’s shoulders dissipates and for the umpteenth time he reminds himself that whatever today brings Bakugou is still in his life and it’s a blessing he’s willing to sacrifice everything for.

By the time they make it to Kirishima’s apartment the sun is high in the firmament and the redhead’s eyes are drawn to the unfamiliar car parked inconspicuously on the curb side. It’s his parents, he notices with a barely contained grimace.

The door’s unlocked and Kirishima vaguely realises Kaminari must have let his parents in, the sudden awareness that everything he’s been avoiding for the last couple of months is on the other side sends a quick tremor through his body.

His movement must have caught Bakugou’s attention because as he hesitates the blond leans down and presses the sweetest kiss to his lips in a gesture so unbelievably soft and kind that it takes Kirishima’s breath away. He supposes he doesn’t give his boyfriend enough credit for being so attentive; not that he always shows it. Kirishima has come to realise that Bakugou registers every single one of his movements and words with an unspoken understanding. It makes him feel safe in a way he never even knew was possible.

He enters tentatively, almost instantly hearing voices drifting from the kitchen. It sounds as if his dad is enquiring about Kaminari’s university course and as usual the blond’s response is bubbly and charming. Unconsciously he exhales, grateful that Kaminari is keeping them occupied as he pulls himself together.

Hands snake around his waist as a mouth presses gently to his neck, “Hey, it’s going to be fine. Stop fucking worrying”. Bakugou’s voice is rough, still tainted ever so faintly by sleep but he sounds confident and so self-assured Kirishima can’t help but be instilled with something at least reminiscent of hope.

“Yeah”, he agrees in a whisper as he steps through the hallway towards the kitchen, pulling a smile to his lips.

Kaminari slips past them with a reassuring expression on his face, “I’m heading out to meet Sero” he throws behind him before the door clicks shut. Kirishima is glad that Kaminari had the sense to leave, if his parents cause a scene he wants as few witnesses as possible. Not that he’s being pessimistic, if anything he’s being a realist.

“Here goes…”, he murmurs as they near the kitchen, Bakugou sends him one last smile.

The minute they enter his mum is hugging him, words kind and eyes dancing with joy and Kirishima’s heart softens slightly; he probably should cut her some slack, after all he is her son. His dad reciprocates the gesture and Kirishima inhales the scent of aftershave which smell distinctly of home. Days spent digging in the garden, baking various recipes with atrocious results, Christmas’ full of laughter. It’s unbearably and yet perfectly familiar.

“Hey”, he murmurs as his dad withdraws. Both his parents are now staring at Bakugou inquisitively and Kirishima knows that there’s no point in dragging out the inevitable.

“So, this is Bakugou...”, he inhales slightly and catches the blond giving him a subtle smile out of the corner of his eye.

“My boyfriend”.

His voice is firm leaving no room for argument, this is his life and who he loves is his choice and his choice only.

His mum looks a little shocked but manages to hastily recollect herself and to Kirishima’s surprise a smile makes it way onto her face. It’s a little uncertain but genuine nonetheless.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, at university too I imagine?”, she sounds sincere and there’s something akin to acceptance in her tone. Bakugou nods and smiles back, a little surprised by her friendliness. He was expecting open hostility, although judging by his boyfriend’s expression Kirishima was as well.

“I’m doing a medical degree, it’s demanding work but incredibly rewarding”, Kirishima can’t help but smirk, despite the situation, at how polite Bakugou is being. A mere shadow of his usual self.

Standing next to him is not the argumentative, passionate man that gives sinfully good blow jobs but a mature, aspiring doctor who practically oozes prime husband material. If you just put him in a suit he’d be the complete package. That distracts Kirishima for a moment as he practically salivates over the thought of Bakugou in a shirt and tie.

When he finally disentangles himself from his reverie, his mother is gushing about her friend who works in a local clinic, suggesting that she could put in a good word for him if he was seeking some work experience.

Bakugou’s eyes light up with gratitude, “Thanks that would be wonderful”, his voice is gruff, but he sounds sincerely appreciative. It’s then that Kirishima dares a glance at his dad, he looks unquestionably less comfortable, but the lack of cutting comments is a favourable sign.

His mum seems to have moved on to asking Bakugou about his hobbies, practically ignoring Kirishima as she nods with interest as Bakugou starts talking about music. His eyes lighting up, words tripping over one another as he mentions the guitar and Kirishima looks on in amazement as a piece of Bakugou he’s never really witnesses before, comes tumbling forth.

The boy who is besotted with music has always been apparent but Kirishima’s never seen him talk about it like this and it’s nothing short of adorable.

It’s as he’s commenting about Led Zeppelin that Kirishima’s dad finally insinuates a conversation, “You have good taste, Eijirou was always buried neck deep in jazz albums but I’ve always been a rock man myself”.

There’s a moment of silence as Bakugou looks shocked at being talked to so conversationally by a man who he’d expected to punch him on the first meeting. He regains composure as a grin quirks his lips up.

And then, as if a switch has been flipped, Bakugou and Kirishima’s dad start talking animatedly, looking joyful at having found their musical kindred spirits and Kirishima can’t conceal the smile that prizes his lips apart. Things aren’t perfect he can see his parents still have reservations but they’re trying their best to accept the situation.

His mum gently tugs on his arm as the two continue to talk, discussing the greats with so much zealous Kirishima is almost jealous. They make their way into the living room where his mum nestles onto the threadbare sofa patting the seat next to her with long, elegant fingers.

“So darling I think it’s best we had a chat”, her voice is melodic as it’s always been. When he was young she used to sing round the house, much like a nightingale. She could pull of all the jazz hits with ease, her voice floating effortlessly over the notes. The same musicality finds its way into her conversation, every syllable lilting slightly.

“Hmm?”, Kirishima responds already feeling his guard coming up, tensing at the words that potentially could forewarn the worst.

“I know the way me and your father responded was not acceptable”, she pauses inhaling a little shakily, there’s no reason for her to specify what she’s alluding to. It’s been the elephant in the room since they arrived.

“It’s a little difficult for us to come to terms with. Not because we don’t want you to be happy, but we’re worried how people will treat you. Now I know that’s not an excuse, your dad especially had a lot of reservations but if this is who you are we have no place to being saying otherwise”.

She must register the shock on Kirishima’s face because a look of shame passes over her face, “I’m truly sorry darling, how we treated you was unforgiveable but Bakugou seems like a good person and if he makes you happy then nothing else matters”.

Kirishima breaths deeply, confusion swimming through his thoughts as he compiles a response.

“Why the sudden change, one minute you were telling me it was just a phase and now you’re accepting me wholeheartedly?”, he can’t stop the bitterness that creeps into his words. Although he’s overwhelmingly grateful that his parents have seen sense, their earlier words still twist like a knife caught in his gut and leave a sour taste in his mouth.

“We talked to your cousin and she explained to us how you might be feeling”, Kirishima feels his expression soften.

His cousin Mai has been with her girlfriend for over five years and thus had become somewhat estranged from the rest of the family. His grandparents were borderline homophobic but then again none of his relations were wholly accepting of anything that differed from their strict sense of normality. He’s only met her a couple of times, he recalls her always smiling with warm, deep brown eyes that promised laughter and smiles wherever she went.

“Our main concern was that the rest of the family would act like they did with Mai. We didn’t want to see you go through the same pain, but she made it clear this was something that you couldn’t change and something we should be proud of”.

His mother pauses for a second, a single strand of black hair falling across her porcelain skin, “She said you had been incredibly brave to tell us and we should admire your courage”. Looking up, her lips part in an honest smile and Kirishima can’t help but reciprocate. It might take a while for him to forgive them fully and regain the trust lost but he’s willing to try with everything he’s got.

“Thank you”, he speaks softly but the sentiment is strong nonetheless and before he can let another sound pass his lips, delicate but robust arms are around him and his mother makes a noise almost like a sob as she hugs him.

As they part, his dad and Bakugou make their way into the room still chatting amicably; by the sound of it they’ve now moved onto the iconic guitarists.

“Jimi Hendrix, no question. He changed the face of music for ever!”, Kirishima’s dad says, passion brimming in his words as he gestures wildly.

“Okay but David Gilmour is criminally underrated in that aspect. But you’ve also got to give it to George Harrison as well, he wrote some of the greatest hits ever”, Bakugou counters and Kirishima can’t help smiling at how ardent both are getting.

Kirishima looks over to see his mum rolling her eyes in barely concealed amusement before she tugs on her husband’s arm.

“Honestly, I leave for five minutes and you’re already getting on your high horse about guitarists”, she tuts as Kirishima’s dad starts to protest.

“Anyway, we’ll have to leave, we’re meeting some friends at three but hopefully we can take you two out for dinner at some point”, Kirishima nods with a wide smile.

“It’s pleasure to meet you Bakugou”, she says grasping the blond’s hands with hers before pulling him into a hug.

“Bakugou”, Kirishima freezes at his dad’s cold tone, expecting the worst.

“I’ll accept your views on Jimmy Page if I see you play Stairway to Heaven”.

“Deal”, Bakugou replies with a grin as Kirishima’s father nods a small smile curling the corner of his lips.




Kirishima throws himself onto the floor with melodramatic sigh, “Thank fuck for that”. Bakugou watches him with amusement as he moves his foot to prod him in the stomach from where he’s standing.

“I was shitting myself too thank you very much. I thought they were going throw my out the window for tempting their son and leading him astray”, Bakugou fires back as Kirishima snorts unattractively at his boyfriend’s statement.

“You are a terrible influence, all I’m ever going to think about again is your blow jobs”, he whines as he looks at Bakugou from under his lashes, smile flirtatious

Bakugou’s gaze darkens as he drags his toes down Kirishima's chest before his foot trails along the waistband of his jeans, eliciting a quiet gasp from the redhead. Kirishima pouts a little as his foot stops moving but before he can manage to voice a complaint Bakugou’s foot is moving lower until it’s at Kirishima’s groin and pressing down hard.

This time he groans shamelessly and buck up as he meets Bakugou’s eyes, there’s wild fires of lust dancing in his irises and it sets Kirishima’s heartbeat flurrying.

“So, since we have your parents blessing perhaps we can…”, Bakugou doesn’t finish his sentence eyes glittering with mirth at the anticipation in Kirishima’s expression as he cocks his head to the side.

“Fuck yes, Kaminari and Sero won’t be back for a while and there’s condoms and lube somewhere in my bedroom”, he admits somewhat shamelessly gazing at his boyfriend all the while.

“Someone’s thirsty considering they got off like this morning, you horny fucker”, Bakugou mutters not unkindly as he pulls Kirishima up and connects their mouths.

Kirishima hums contentedly into the kiss before Bakugou pulls away to whisper into his ear, breath sinfully hot as it caresses his skin.

“Lead the way Eijirou”.

Chapter Text

Kirishima’s room isn’t tidy by any stretch of the imagination. His bed still lies unmade, sheets a tangled mess, not that Bakugou seems to mind as he makes himself comfortable between Kirishima’s thighs.

No one should be able to look so composed whilst nuzzling into someone else’s crotch and yet Bakugou manages it with gracious ease. Somewhere along the way Kirishima has lost his jeans and Bakugou, being the little shit he is, is still very much fully clothed. Not that Kirishima can really muster the brain power to complain.

The little nips and fleeting kisses that Bakugou is bestowing across his thighs feel like tiny sparks of lust planted on every inch of his skin. He trails higher every couple of second to press his mouth tantalisingly close to the hemline of Kirishima’s boxers but never higher. Behind each touch is the silent promise of what is to come and it’s slowly driving Kirishima insane.

“Can you please hurry the fuck up”, he finally manages to stutter out between embarrassingly wanton moans. Bakugou smirks up at him, gaze predatory and smile devilish as he ducks back down to continue his ministrations.

In truth, Kirishima can feel his orgasm impending far to quickly. There’s something about Bakugou that leaves him light headed and incited with lust in a way no one else has ever managed to. Bakugou’s bites are just on the right side of pain, making Kirishima’s thighs tremble and eyelids flutter shut.

Inhaling deeply, Kirishima desperately tries to focus on the familiar scent of washing powder still lingering on the sheets. Anything to distract himself from how hot Bakugou’s tongue is against the sensitivity of his skin. His attempt is quickly foiled as Bakugou pushes a hand under his top, grazing his fingertips across the redhead’s nipples.

“F-fuck”, is the wonderfully coherent sentence Kirishima manages to utter as he tries to bring his legs together, overwhelmed by the already intense pleasure.

“What are you doing baby?”, Bakugou growls, the slightest hint of irritation lacing his voice as he splays his hands across Kirishima’s inner thigh. The little whimper Kirishima makes is certainly not because of the unexpected pet name nor is the blush that creeps onto his cheeks because of the dominant tone in Bakugou’s voice.

Quirking an eyebrow Bakugou looks down at him expectantly, “I asked you a question”. Kirishima averts his eyes and looks towards where the steady sound of traffic filter through his window. The silence lasts for a couple of seconds before Bakugou presses his fingers into the flesh of Kirishima’s thighs and spreads them apart. The movement is so self-assured Kirishima forgets to breath for a moment as Bakugou regards him with vague amusement.

“Baby, why did you close your legs?”, when he receives no response but a half-choked moan Bakugou smirks again.

“You like being called baby, huh?”, he sounds immensely pleased and the sentiment goes straight to Kirishima’s dick as he whines in reply. Maybe he does, just a little.

Kirishima vaguely notices that the sun is beginning to set, and the subtle rays are filling the room with a rosy light. It’s disgustingly cliché but Kirishima can’t help but feel its utterly perfect. What’s even more perfect is the way Bakugou pulls his top off so he can finally run the heat of his tongue across Kirishima’s chest.

“You are unfairly good at this”, Kirishima mumbles with a slight pout as Bakugou shifts to trail his mouth across the juncture of the redhead’s collarbone.

Kirishima later notes to himself that complementing Bakugou is never a good move as the blond seems to take the words as a silent challenge to outdo himself. In this instance, he moves a hand down to palm at Kirishima’s dick whilst pressing sloppy kisses to his jawline.

The pleasure pooling deep in his stomach is irresistible and Kirishima can count the minutes it’ll take for him to come on one hand if Bakugou continues. What’s even more arousing is the way Bakugou’s watching him, observing his every move to work out exactly what will have his boyfriend mewling under his touch.

The final straw is when Bakugou latches his teeth onto the hem of Kirishima’s boxers and shamelessly pulls them down his legs. It’s worthy of a porn flick, so skilfully done that Kirishima has to close his eyes and focus on containing the moans that threaten to escape his throat.

“Are you actually trying to kill me? I swear to god Katsuki I am going to come if you don’t stop”, it comes out as more of a childish whine than he meant it to and Bakugou blatantly snorts at him.

“I didn’t know you could act like such a brat, baby”, his tone is condescending in the best possible way and Kirishima squirms on the sheets as Bakugou pins him down with a smouldering glare.

“I will do whatever the fuck I want and if it gets to much for baby you’ll just have to come more than once”, he states bluntly. Needless to say, the words only add fuel to fire as Kirishima’s arousal spikes to new heights. He knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that if he seriously asked Bakugou to stop he would, but this dominant side to Bakugou is intoxicating and Kirishima only wants more.

“Got it?”, Bakugou adds as his eyes cloud with lust at the unashamedly slutty look on Kirishima’s face.

“Yeah, I’ll be good. I promise…”, Kirishima manages shakily. Its on the tip of his tongue to ask why Bakugou is still fully clothed but he swallows down the complaint as the blond moves to press against him, his jeans providing sweet friction against Kirishima’s skin. The spurt of precome will probably stain Bakugou’s clothes but Kirishima can’t really find it within himself to care.

As Bakugou withdraws, pulling his top off as he does, Kirishima feels a sudden wave of appreciation wash over him. Bakugou’s everything he’s ever wanted and every single one of his imperfections are another reason for Kirishima to fall in love.

He’s brought out of his reverie as Bakugou voice lilts into a question, “Where’s your lube baby?”. It takes Kirishima a good couple of seconds to comprehend his words, entire mind focussing on how much he loves the sound of the name on Bakugou’s tongue.

“Somewhere”, he mumbles back; motioning lazily towards his bedside table. Bakugou rolls his eyes but makes his way over all the same, smiling slightly at how Kirishima sprawls across the sheets boneless and completely fucked out.

Brow furrowing, Kirishima watches as Bakugou roots through the draws to no avail. He swears he had lube in there. As if on que, Bakugou makes a triumphant noise as he withdraws a bottle of lube… An empty bottle.

Kirishima groans out loud, how could he have forgotten? He’s spent an unacceptable amount of time masturbating lately and it has all too often ended with his fingers buried in his ass as he whimpers Bakugou’s name.

“Someone’s been busy”, Bakugou smirks as he observes the bottle.

“For fucks sake”, Kirishima manages to whine back, the though of not having Bakugou fuck him is a genuinely upsetting matter.

And then insight hits him and Kirishima thanks every deity in existence for his sudden moment of inspiration.

“Kaminari will have some for sure, just go take it”, Bakugou wrinkles up his nose at the suggestion and looks ready to protest before Kirishima continues.

“Unless you don’t want to fuck me in which case you better look forward to some alone time with your hand”, his words have the desired effect as Bakugou stands up with a muttered ‘fine’ and disappears in search of the elusive lube.

Kirishima hears him scuffling through Kaminari draws and hopes his roommate doesn’t have anything weird hidden away, although the thought is ultimately pointless as this is Kaminari he’s talking about.

“Why the fuck does your roommate have eight flavours of lube?”, Bakugou enquires on returning as Kirishima allows himself a short laugh.

“At least you didn’t find his BTS photo album”, he responds with a smile.

“No, I’m pretty sure that would be normal compared to his selection of dildos”.

Bakugou just glares at him as he almost falls of his bed in hysterics, “Oh god I forgot how kinky Kaminari is”, he manages between hiccups of laughter. Bakugou looks relatively unamused but Kirishima is just thankful they have lube.

As Bakugou moves back towards the bed he fishes a condom out of his pocket and Kirishima can’t help himself as he comments, “Someone was hopeful about their chances”. The teasing tone of his voice makes Bakugou scowl.

“Like you would have said no, you thirsty shit”, Kirishima widens his eyes in mock hurt.

“Aren’t you meant to be wooing me or, I don’t know, dirty talking me into oblivion right now rather than bullying me about my hormones?”.

Bakugou rolls his eyes but eventually complies as he leans back in to whisper against the delicate shell of Kirishima’s ear, “Okay then, I’ll tell you what I want”. He pauses briefly allowing his breath to surge across the side of Kirishima’s neck.

“I want to eat you out, rim my pretty baby till he’s screaming my name. Sound good?”, Kirishima can barely breath the very thought enough to have his heart thundering.

“God yes, no ones ever…”, he tails of breath caught in his throat at having the subject of his wet dreams finally becoming a reality.

Before he can say anything else Bakugou pulls back, shock written across his face. Confused, Kirishima watches him retreat, mouth opening to ask him what’s wrong but Bakugou’s quicker.

“No one’s ever eaten you out before?”, he sounds genuinely surprised, angry almost.

“Ermm, no”, Kirishima responds tentatively. None of his partners had ever really cared enough to indulge him with such treatment. They fucked quickly each chasing their own orgasm, Kirishima’s pleasure was always disregarded; placed aside as his partners put their own pleasure above his own.

“What the fuck? Were all your boyfriend’s just complete assholes”, he demands anger lacing his tone as Kirishima nods uncertainly.

“It wasn’t ever really about me, we just fucked y’know”, he mutters in explanation not wanting to admit that no one’s ever really taken care of him, placed him before themselves.

“Well that changes now”, Bakugou growls more to himself than Kirishima as he raises his eyes to lock their gazes.

“I’m going to fucking wreck you baby”.

His promise lies heavy in the air as Kirishima nods, anticipation dancing in his stomach. Bakugou’s first touch is cold and slick as he coats Kirishima’s rim with lube, rubbing circles into the redhead’s waist all the while.

“Hips up for me”, his voice is soft but carries danger in every syllable and Kirishima complies without a hint of hesitation. A pillow is slipped under the small of his back, allowing Bakugou to lean in and press his tongue against Kirishima’s hole. His movements are already deft and assertive and Kirishima all but melts under his touch.

The feeling is intense, every inch of skin burning with sensitivity as the warmth and slight roughness of Bakugou’s tongue teases around his rim in tantalising circles. It’s too much and not nearly enough all at one and it leaves Kirishima dizzy with lust, eyes rolling back into his head as Bakugou finally pushes in.

The intrusion feels foreign but as soon as Bakugou begins to thrust his tongue in lazy, languorous movements Kirishima is keening, back arching and thighs quivering. It’s overwhelming and Kirishima finds himself absentmindedly thinking that Bakugou has no right to be this talented in bed.

His toes curl into the soft cotton of well worn sheets, mind hazy with lust as Bakugou presses deeper. There’s determination in the blond’s every movement as if he is desperate to take care of Kirishima, to take him apart piece by piece in a way no one has ever bothered to before.

All semblance of coherency has been lost as Kirishima babbles mindlessly, words tripping over one another in a tangle of unspoken pleasure. Bakugou’s tongue has found his prostrate with disturbing accuracy and he’s coming apart far quicker than he’d like to admit.

“Katsuki please… I don’t want t-to”, he whines somewhat pathetically as his hips stutter in an erratic rhythm. Bakugou’s smile holds a million dirty promises as he raises his eyes to observe Kirishima with an idle smirk.

“Don’t want what? Baby you have to use your words”, he teases. Watching as Kirishima’s eyebrows furrow; the redhead clearly finding semantics a little bit taxing at the present moment.

“I don’t want to come like this”, he finally manages as his chest heaves from the stimulation he’s just received.

“What angel, you don’t like my tongue?”, his voice is perilously quiet; every utterance laced with warning. The tone has pleasure coiling dark and needy in Kirishima’s crotch.

“N-no I like it!”, he yelps as Bakugou draws away. The sultry game of cat and mouse they’re playing is enough to have Kirishima chasing after Bakugou’s touch, pleas falling from his lips.

“You want something else baby?”.

Kirishima shivers and then finally gains enough courage to nod and meet Bakugou’s gaze, “I need you to fuck me so bad, p-please”. The sentence comes out as little more than a whisper, but the sentiment is enough for Bakugou to push Kirishima back onto the sheets before dripping lube across his fingers.

Although Kirishima would never admit it out loud, he loves Bakugou’s hands far too much. They’re strong and emanate power like every other part of his body but somehow, they are still delicate. His fingers are lithe and dexterous, perfect for strumming across guitar strings, but they are also laced with muscle and veins. In all honesty, Kirishima has never wanted something in him so bad.

Bakugou works his finger in and out as if he has all the time in the world, controlling the pace with ease as he drawls out dirty praises; telling Kirishima that he looks so beautiful and slutty beneath him. The first two leave a tangible burn in their wake and the third has Kirishima mewling out loud, the pain and pleasure mingling perfectly.

No one has ever treated him so carefully, fingered him mercilessly yet with so much devotion. The concentration he can see in Bakugou’s eyes tells him everything and more.

The sun sits low on the horizon by the time Bakugou finally pulls his fingers out, pausing for a fleeting moment to savour the image of Kirishima. A picture of carnal need, spread out on the bed, rivulets of sweat pooling in his collarbone as his eyes swim with lust.

All bashfulness has been lost as Bakugou opens the condom and hums gently as he pulls it on. Kirishima watches his movements like a hawk, body afire with urgent need as Bakugou moves to look down at him.

“Hey, gorgeous”, Kirishima teases as Bakugou leans down to press their lips together. It’s tender and surprisingly reserved, with none of the fire Bakugou’s touches are usually full of.

“You are such a fucking dork”, Bakugou replies with a low chuckle which vibrates against Kirishima’s lips in a way that makes him squirm and laugh in return. They stay like that for a couple of minutes, pushing impatience to the side, instead choosing to revel in one another’s presence, sharing breaths and soft kisses.

“Eijirou? You beautiful idiot?”, Bakugou’s voice dances through the room, as deep as the diminishing light of the sunrays.

“Hmmm?”, Kirishima response as he tilts his head up for another kiss.

“Would you give me the great honour of fucking you into oblivion?”, Kirishima can’t help the laugh that bubbles forth from his throat.

“Who says chivalry’s dead”, he sniggers back as Bakugou’s grin widens, his teeth beautiful in the dim light. Kirishima loves that his boyfriend can make consent sound like one of the sexiest things on Earth.

“And of course, do your worst”, he adds giving Bakugou a challenging smirk.

“Oh baby you know I will”, and with that Bakugou pushes in leaving Kirishima gasping and moaning,. Suddenly there’s not enough oxygen in the air and all Kirishima can comprehend is Katsuki, Katsuki, Katsuki…

He moves with so much intent, hips snapping at a vicious pace. All Kirishima ca do is squirm beneath him, head tilted back and eyes wide. He feels so perfectly, unbearably full, like every atom of his body is stretched to breaking point by how much he can feel and how much he loves it.

The minute Bakugou hits his prostate he’s seeing stars… no scrap that, he’s seeing fucking galaxies, star systems, the entire universe all compacted down to Bakugou above him, groaning as he pushes deeper. Kirishima looks up in wonderment and comes to the somewhat overdue conclusion that he is very much in love.

The thought lingers in his mind like an embrace as his pleasure rises and rises, gut clenching tightly as the delicious fringes of orgasm tug at his body.

The sunset is reflected in Bakugou’s eyes, they glare with a brilliant brightness that makes Kirishima feel alive in a way he hasn’t felt for a while. And he’s lost in it, lost in the way he feels and how much he loves.

“Fuck baby, I want you to ride me”, Bakugou murmurs hot and sinful next to Kirishima’s ear and before the redhead can truly comprehend his situation he’s being shifted and lifted. His arms are shaky as he steadies himself, staring down at Bakugou in uncontained bliss. He lets himself down slowly, intent on feeling ever single moment in perfect clarity.

By the time Kirishima’s fully seated they’re both panting hard and he allows himself to rise, eyes locked onto the blown-out pupils of his boyfriend’s gaze. As he pushes down, Bakugou presses his feet into the mattress and simultaneously bucks up driving his cock deep into Kirishima’s heat.

The sensation is dizzying and with one last upward thrust and a hand around his dick, courtesy of Bakugou, Kirishima is coming. Vision all but turning white as he moans out Bakugou’s name in a throaty scream. The pleasure causes him to tighten and when Bakugou fucks him into over sensitivity he loves every second of it. A soft groan accompanies Bakugou releasing into the condom as they both collapse on to the bed in a tangle of limbs.

They lie there, far too blissed out to find any of the words they want to utter. Kirishima finds himself placing soft, sticky kisses to the side of Bakugou’s lips as the other hums happily. The sun has all but disappeared, the dissipating rays acting as the last lingering reminder of the day.

Despite his body being wracked with exhaustion, Kirishima’s mind continues to work a million miles a second as his brain tries to comprehend and contain the emotions threatening to spill forth from his willing lips. He loves Bakugou.

Fuck it, he really loves Bakugou, like really, really loves him with every fibre of his being. The sort of love that makes your throat dry up, bringing a smile to your lips unbidden until your grinning like an idiot. The real sort of love that leaves you a little dizzy but also reassured. The sort of love that feels an awful lot like the rhythm of your favourite song. The dirty touches like a bassline, the soft words like melodies, the quiet shared smiles and stolen kisses like the lilting solos.

“I am so in love with you and I have no idea how to deal with it”, is what actually comes out of his mouth a couple of minutes later as they lie side by side, Kirishima curled into Bakugou’s side.

Bakugou vaguely sounds like he’s choking and Kirishima has the worrying feeling he just majorly fucked up.

“I love you too”, the blond finally manages, and his voice is brimming with so much emotion that Kirishima almost laughs in relief.

“How much?”, he asks playfully as Bakugou presses a languid kiss to his shoulder. The blond hums as if he’s thinking before turning to Kirishima with a serious expression.

“More than my guitar and maybe even more than Pink Floyd”. Kirishima mock gasps in response, concealing his giggle.

“I feel honoured”, he teases as Bakugou shifts to grab a tissue, gently wiping the remnants of come off Kirishima’s stomach.

“You fuckin’ should do, my guitar has just lost its position as my most loved thing in the whole damn world and Pink Floyd have just been pushed to third”, he grouses sounding scandalised as he eyes Kirishima with a look of fake reproach.

“I’m very sorry”, Kirishima giggles back, putting on his very best apologetic pout. It does the trick as Bakugou’s façade cracks and a grin spills across his lips.

“You’re forgiven”, he hums back amusement evident in his voice as he wraps his arms around Kirishima’s body. It’s warm and comfortable and maybe even just a little bit perfect and Kirishima is willing to work as hard as possible for this, because right here is everything he wants and everything he’ll ever need.


Five Years Later:

“Of course they chose to walk down the aisle to Ella Fitzgerald, I mean it’s not even that romantic. Do you know what’s more romantic? Jimin’s vocals!”, Kaminari whines dramatically as Sero shushes him looking over to where the couple in question stand.

They’re beneath an arch entwined with roses and jasmine, whispering together softly as Kaminari beings to whinge about how sappy the whole affair is.

Kirishima can vaguely hear his best friend grouching but it only manages to pull a smile to his face, the guys going to throw a fit when he discovers that their first dance is to Pink Floyd not to BTS as the blond boy had demanded.

Bakugou sends Kirishima a half grin as he hears Kaminari’s voice lilting through the air whilst the crowd take their seats. Out of the corner of his eye Kirishima catches sight of his parents, his mum dabbing her eyes whilst his dad smiles and pats her back, sending his son a small thumbs up. He can also just spy Mina accompanied with Todoroki and Midoriya who are grinning at them with joy bright in their eyes.

“Do you think we should at least have one dance to BTS to stop Kaminari throwing a temper tantrum?”, Bakugou suggests laughter lacing his voice.

“As if you don’t want to as well. I’ve seen you singing in the shower to DNA.”, Kirishima teases back as the celebrant moves to stand by them.

“How bout Spring Day”, Bakugou offers as Kirishima shakes his head a challenging glint in his eye.

“If we’re doing this its got to be Dope”, Bakugou's eyes crinkle up as he laughs and Kirishima falls in love all over again. He tends to fall in love on a regular basis nowadays. And when Bakugou takes his hand carefully in his own, he falls all over again.

“Deal”, he responds with a smirk that makes Kirishima weak in the knees.

“So, we’re really doing this… You do realise you’re going to have to sing me to sleep every night and serenade me with sappy love songs on a regular basis”, Kirishima murmurs softly. Excitement and happiness rife in his voice as he beams at Bakugou; love evident in the curl of his smile.

“Yeah and I’m pretty sure that makes me the luckiest guy on Earth”, Bakugou replies, eyes glinting in the sunlight.

(In the end Kaminari gets his wish. He somehow takes over the DJ set and practically plays every BTS song in existence. Bakugou will pretend to complain and Kirishima will pretend he doesn’t find it adorable. Then they’ll spend all evening wrapped up in one another’s arms and if you ask either of them, they’ll turn away bashfully and murmur something that’ll sound distinctly like ‘perfect’).