Title: Not the Least Bit Sorry [Bakugou/Kirishima]
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, partial genderswap (girl Bakugou)
Summary: It’s more than a little possible that Bakugou could kill Kirishima with her thighs alone, but Kirishima is really very okay with that.
AN: Written for Shiritori. Girl Bakugou because that official art of Bakugou and Deku as girls is still effing me up even though its been weeks.
Not the Least Bit Sorry
“Thighs,” Kirishima sighed, cheek flopped on his arm on his desk.
“What?” Kaminari asked, tilting his head.
“You asked what the hell was wrong with me, and I answered you,” Kirishima said. “Thighs.”
Bakugou’s thighs specifically. Kirishima wasn’t trying to stare like a creep, but the uniform skirt was so cute under the blazers and Bakugou’s thighs were pale like the rest of her skin but crazy muscled, like she spent hours doing squats or something. When they’d started school in the spring, Bakugou wore tights or leggings with her uniform because of the cold, but now that it was summer, Kirishima felt like he was going to die every time Bakugou slouched to stick her legs out in the classroom aisle.
Kirishima had it ridiculously bad. Ashido followed his gaze to Bakugou turned in her seat to shout at Midoriya for breathing, again, and snorted.
“She could crush your head with those,” Ashido commented.
“Uh-huh,” Kirishima agreed dreamily, like Ashido had just suggested a jerk off fantasy, and Kaminari whined an “EW, dude!”
After class and hero training, Kirishima was slower than everyone else to shower and get changed, loitering under the hot water and then staring at his pants as if he’d forgotten which leg to put in which hole. He felt stuck half in a daydream, barely looking where he was going as he finally trudged out of the boys’ locker room.
“Hey!” snapped a voice right in front of Kirishima, and then hands were on his shoulders, shoving him back against the wall. “What the fuck took you so long?”
Bakugou was in front of him, expression thunderous, hip cocked, hair damp from her own shower but already starting to fluff-explosion back up from summer humidity. She wasn’t wearing her tie, which was entirely normal, and Kirishima’s eyes were drawn down to the hollow of her throat where the collar of her shirt revealed it, the top two buttons undone.
“Sorry,” Kirishima said, the pause way too long. Bakugou cracked her knuckle.
“You trying to blow me off?” she demanded.
“No!” Kirishima protested, biting his lip to keep from laughing at Bakugou’s choice of words. “I was in the shower, just…thinking about you,” he finished, which was true if misleading. But it had the intended effect, which was that Bakugou’s scowl turned into a smirk, and she leaned in a little closer.
“Pervert,” she muttered, but her mouth was on Kirishima’s a second later, warm and wet and insistent. They’d been doing whatever this was for about three weeks, and kissing hadn’t lost its electricity for Kirishima, chest tight and skin prickling with surprise every time Bakugou got up in his space and stole a few. Kirishima was fairly sure he was the only one Bakugou had ever kissed, the idea of that way hotter than any worries about how unpracticed Bakugou was at it. That was kind of charming too, that there was at least one thing in the entire world Bakugou wasn’t aces at on the very first try.
He put his hands on Bakugou’s waist, testing, and when she only pressed him up tighter against the wall, he dared slide them down over the pleated fabric of her skirt. He cupped the swell of her ass in his hands for a few moments, then slide them down until his palms were against the backs of her thighs.They were so strong and muscled, totally manly, not that Kirishima was stupid enough to say that out loud.
Bakugou bit down on Kirishima’s lower lip, muttering, “My room. Now.”
The others were all at dinner, making it easy to sneak into Bakugou’s room on the girl side of the dorms. Kirishima would definitely be regretting skipping the meal later, but at the moment his hands were full of Bakugou. She shoved Kirishima down on her bed and climbed into his lap, already reaching for the buttons on his shirt.
“Hurry it up, idiot,” she grumbled, squirming as Kirishima only smoothed his hands down her sides, squeezing her waist. “They won’t be at dinner forever.”
She was blushing faintly; last week Ashido had warned her that the dorm walls weren’t as soundproof as Bakugou apparently thought they were. Kirishima tried to feel some remorse about his role in the situation, but he really really didn’t. When he leaned in to drag kisses along the jut of her collarbone, Bakugou was already making more noise than she should, and Kirishima loved it. They made out like that for a little bit, Kirishima trying not to leave any marks, even when Bakugou worked hands into Kirishima’s hair and pulled him into harder, like she was trying to get her pale skin marked up.
And Kirishima had never thought of himself as a boob guy, but damn, Bakugou’s were so perfect, pale in contrast to the dark red of her bra, nipples dark pink when he freed them. The swell of them fit perfectly in Kirishima’s cupped hands, Bakugou shuddering when Kirishima thumbed her nipples. They were way more sensitive than Kirishima’s, small wonder with Kirishima’s quirk, but that just made it all the more fascinating how Bakugou squirmed and cursed when Kirishima sucked first one into his mouth, then the other.
“Let me…” Kirishima nuzzled the curve of Bakugou’s neck. “You know.”
“Shouldn’t get to do it if you can’t fucking say it,” Bakugou growled, but she was already pushing Kirishima down by the shoulders, hiking up her skirt. Kirishima reached for the zipper of it, rolling his eyes; Bakugou had to wear it to school tomorrow, after all.
Kirishima was in absolutely no hurry, mouthing kisses along the inside of Bakugou’s thighs, mapping every curve of muscle, every ripple, with his tongue and lips and fingers, until Bakugou was a squirming mess.
“Eijirou!” she finally snapped, hips rising into Kirishima’s grip. Kirishima forced them back down to the mattress, grinning to himself. “You wanted to do it so bad! Fucking do it already!”
Bakugou was crazy wet already by the time Kirishima actually put his mouth on her, and it was a good thing for Kirishima’s safety that his smug grin was hidden down between her legs. Kirishima was entirely into how Bakugou tasted exactly like she smelled she would, salt and smoke, sharp on the back of his tongue, just like when they sparred and Bakugou came at him with teeth bared and palms blazing. Kirishima never understood why other guys talked about going down on a girl like it wasn’t manly or whatever, because it made him feel like an absolute king that he could take his tough as shit girlfriend utterly to pieces with just his fingers and mouth. Kirishima spread Bakugou open just a little wider with his thumbs, licking in that much deeper, and Bakugou wailed a string of curses that makes Kirishima feel like he ruled the entire solar system.
He wished he could pick his head up and see Bakugou’s face, how her blush was probably spread all over by now, but her hands were wound tight in Kirishima’s hair to keep him exactly where he was. Plus she sounded close, and Kirishima was mildly worried that if he stopped for any reason Bakugou would murder him with her bare hands. He guessed he was lucky Bakugou was relatively easy to please, loud about what she liked, her clit never hard to find or too oversensitive for Kirishima to lick or suck directly. She was already shaking under Kirishima’s hands and mouth when Kirishima slid two fingers inside of her. She felt so good, slick clenching around his fingers, her hips snapping up against Kirishima’s mouth when he curled them. They hadn’t gone all the way yet, and sure Kirishima jerked off to the thought of burying his dick just as deep inside Bakugou as his fingers were, deeper, but he wasn’t in a rush to get past this part. Not when being able to stroke Bakugou inside with his fingertips, pressed just so to match the flutter of his tongue on the outside, could make her scream for him as she shuddered her way through an obvious orgasm.
“Mm, mmhmm,” Kirishima praised, mouth still busy. He was rock hard himself but it didn’t matter, not planning on doing anything about it if it meant pulling his fingers out of Bakugou. The part just after she came was one of his favorites, how if he kept fingerfucking her she’d shiver her way through a series of aftershocks, some of them cresting like she was coming again for a second or two. Eventually she’d push Kirishima off, but sometimes not until Kirishima’s hand was starting to cramp, stubbornly refusing to stop.
This time she tugged Kirishima’s face up by the hair after only a little while longer, although Kirishima noticed she was still rolling her hips down against his fingers. She looked just as good as Kirishima had imagined, better, hair wild and lips kiss-bitten, nipples drawn tight, melted lazily against the bed.
“Your turn,” she told him, voice throaty from making such a racket.
“In a minute,” Kirishima said, resting his cheek against Bakugou’s thigh. He felt almost overstimulated himself, like he might go all to pieces himself if Bakugou so much as wrapped a hand around his aching dick. He stroked Bakugou’s inner thigh with the fingers that weren’t inside her. “Mina said you could kill me with these.”
“Don’t talk about my junk with Ashido, Jesus fuck,” Bakugou snapped. She interrupted herself with a soft groan and another obvious shudder. He wondered if he could make Bakugou come again, a real one, if he took his time, if it was really true you could make a girl come a bunch of times in a row if you knew what you were doing. He wanted to practice until he knew exactly what he was doing. “Nngh. Fuck you. M’gonna fall asleep and then you’ll be sorry.”
Kirishima only grinned, turning his head to nuzzle the soft, hot skin of Bakugou’s thigh. “I really won’t.”
