There were a lot of things that pissed Bakugou off, but the thing that annoyed him the most right now was how ridiculously, stupidly pretty Kirishima was with his hair down. “Are you doing that on purpose?!” he demanded, grouchy as usual.
“Eh?” Kirishima turned his head to look at Bakugou at the question. His hair shifted at the movement, looking incredibly soft, and all Bakugou could think about was how much he wanted to dig his fingers into those red strands and yank. He wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to kiss Kirishima or kick his ass, but grabbing a fistful of hair could easily lead to either so what the fuck ever. Before he could change his mind, Bakugou stepped up close, right into Kirishima’s personal space and pressed his lips against Kirishima’s.
Kirishima’s startled noise was muffled by his lips, but the surprise only lasted a moment and then Kirishima kissed right back, strong arms wrapping around Bakugou’s waist to pull him closer. Bakugou dug his fingers into Kirishima’s hair, and fuck, it was just as soft as he’d imagined, and Kirishima’s muscular body felt amazing against his, all firm and hot.
He felt a sudden, sharp sting to his lip and there was a hint of the taste of blood, probably from Kirishima’s pointy teeth, but Bakugou didn’t give a single fuck about that. He shoved Kirishima against the wall and pressed close, working a knee between Kirishima’s muscular thighs. Kirishima’s strong hands slipped from his waist to his ass, kneading, and yeah, he didn’t mind that either. He nipped at Kirishima’s lips in turn. Why did this idiot have to be so fucking good at kissing?
By the time the kiss broke they were both panting and grinding against each other. There was a hint of pink on Kirishima’s stupid cheeks, which made him even more fucking pretty and Bakugou lost his temper entirely. “Who the hell allowed to you to be so damn fucking pretty, shittyhair?” he growled, yanking on that idiotic, soft, infuriating red hair harder.
“You’re hot when you’re angry, dude,” Kirishima replied, completely unfazed by Bakugou’s display of temper.
“Shut the fuck up, rock for brains,” Bakugou snapped and yanked Kirishima back into the kiss. He trailed appreciative hands over Kirishima’s wide shoulders and muscular arms, just like he’d been dreaming of doing over months of training and wrestling together. Kirishima’s shirtless hero costume really didn’t leave much to the imagination, and for someone with a hardening quirk of all things Kirishima’s skin was really surprisingly soft and smooth. Why was this moron so fucking appealing?
Kirishima broke the kiss to nibble his way down Bakugou’s throat and Bakugou shivered, barely holding back the embarrassing moan that kept trying to escape. The lightest scratch of those sharp teeth felt ridiculously good, and Bakugou wondered vaguely if months of fantasizing about this stupid razor mouth had given him a weird fetish.
“You taste really good,” Kirishima murmured, nosing at Bakugou’s Adam’s Apple.
“Get your mouth back on me, shark face,” Bakugou ordered, leaning his head back to give Kirishima access to as much of his throat as possible. Pointy teeth on his throat should probably have bothered him, but he never gave a fuck about should, and the little pinpricks felt entirely too good to stop.