BNHA, Do Your Worst, I Can Take It

Title: Do Your Worst, I Can Take It [Kirishima/Bakugou]
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, genderswap, outdoor sex
Summary: Kirishima Eimi finally scored a real date with Bakugou Katsumi, but she ends up being the one wrapped around Bakugou’s fingers.
AN: Written for Shiritori. Genderswap involving girl Bakugou and Kirishima, but guy Ashido. You can fight me that Kirishima’s girl name is Eimi (Amy), but Bakugou would still have his ‘katsu’ victory kanji, so I ended up with Katsumi.

Do Your Worst, I Can Take It

“Harder,” Bakugou ordered, hands on her hips, eyeing Kirishima’s chest. Kirishima grit her teeth and concentrated on her quirk, trying not to think about how Bakugou was staring at her skin, the deep V of Kirishima’s hero costume revealing basically everything. “Harder.”

Sucking in a breath that whistled through her teeth, Kirishima cranked it up as high as she could go, skin thickening to the point where it fractured in every direction and she couldn’t move anything, even enough to breath. Unable to speak, she hoped the look in her eyes was enough to get the message across to Bakugou.

“Yeah, like that,” Bakugou said in satisfaction, drawing back her arm. She’d tossed aside her bracers earlier in their sparring, and Kirishima’s eyes tracked helplessly along the smooth, pale skin of Bakugou’s arm, bare all the way up to her shoulder, as she brought it in fast enough to blur and slammed her palm square in the center of Kirishima’s bare chest.

The explosion jarred Kirishima’s bones but when Bakugou pulled her hand back, Kirishima’s skin was unmarked, just the same as it had been before aside from the smoke wafting up.

“Fuck yes,” Bakugou breathed, eyes lit up with excitement and violence. Her grin probably looked fucking insane to anybody watching, but Kirishima knew how frustrated she’d been that Bakugou had to hold back basically all the time while sparring with their classmates, that it always meant working on precision and strategy and never stretching the upper limits of her quirk’s power. “Finally. Now we can really go, right? You can take it.”

Kirishima released her quirk, drawing a deep breath and shaking off the itch of her epidermis resettling, like brush burn all over, just for a second. “Yeah. Do your worst, I got it.”

Kirishima answered Bakugou’s wild grin with one of her own, fierce and breathless. Bakugou’s quirk couldn’t break through Kirishima’s, but she still managed to explode Kirishima’s heart all the same.

*****

“Ok, ok,” Kirishima muttered to herself, standing in front of her closet and trying to focus. It wasn’t working. “I got this. I got this. Come on, Eimi, you got this.”

“You know the more times you say that you got this, the more obvious it is that you don’t have it,” Ashido commented from Kirishima’s bed. Kirishima turned to glare over her shoulder and Ashido grinned back, his yellow eyes narrowing with the bigness of it. “Just let me help you already.”

“I don’t need YOUR help dressing myself,” Kirishima snapped, eyeing the eye-bleeding mix of patterns Ashido was currently wearing. “I want to get Bakugou’s attention, not burn her eyes out of her skull.”

“She stares into explosions all the time, she’d live,” Ashido retorted, standing up. He pushed Kirishima out of the way without listening to her protests and eyed the options. “Anyway, she sees you half-naked in your hero costume every damn day, what difference is what you wear now gonna make?”

“Shut up,” Kirishima muttered, blushing. Honestly she hated having to show so much skin, but most materials they tried just ended up getting shredded against her hardened skin, so she’d resorted to just covering the bare minimum with fabric that ran from her shoulders to her waist down over her breasts and left the rest bare. The Support Department was working on it. Sometimes Kirishima envied Yaoyorozu’s decision to just go entirely bare chested, lucky guy.

“You look cutest when you don’t look like you’re trying that hard, soooo…” Ashido grabbed a few things to shove into Kirishima’s hands. “Try that.”

“That” was Kirishima’s favorite pair of jeans, worn soft so that they clung to her ass and thighs, and a Crimson Riot T-shirt that she’d been meaning to throw away because it was getting a little tight, plus a plaid button-down in dark red and whites that matched the T-shirt’s color in a very loose way.

“This?” Kirishima asked dubiously. “This is my normal shit, dude.” She glanced down at the V-cut of her T-shirt, wincing at how she was stretching it out. “I really need to throw this one out.”

“Don’t you dare.” Ashido slapped down Kirishima’s hand where she was trying to tug her shirt up higher. He went back to cuffing the shirt up until they showed off Kirishima’s muscular forearms. “Trust me, it’s hot. And no hair wax either.”

“That’s my style,” Kirishima protested.

“You’re so fucking clueless, oh my god,” Ashido grumbled. He reached up and scrunched Kirishima’s hair a few times, just a bit damp still from her shower, enough to hold a little bit of texture from the rough treatment. “You’re so pretty with it down and you don’t even know.” Turning around without waiting for Kirishima’s response, Ashido rifled through the junk on Kirishima’s desk until he turned up two bobby pins, one black and one bright red. Using them to pin back one side of Kirishima’s hair out of her eyes, Ashido pronounced her ready to rock and roll.

“Thanks, I guess,” Kirishima said, still dubious. Ashido rolled his eyes, collecting his phone off the bed and strolling out to see what trouble Kaminari and Sero were getting themselves into.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do~,” he called back over his shoulder. Kirishima scrunched her face, wondering what that even might be.

She looked at her beside clock and saw she had just enough time to finish getting everything ready before Bakugou turned up in the kitchen, their appointed meeting spot. Somehow she had asked Bakugou out on a date, a real one, not just blowing each other and sometimes making out in their hero costumes, and somehow Bakugou had said yes. All Kirishima had to do now was just not fuck it up.

“I got this,” Kirishima said to herself.

*****

“A picnic?” Bakugou snorted when she turned up in the kitchen. She eyed the backpack in Kirishima’s hands (she couldn’t find a basket, but that didn’t matter) and the blanket tucked under her arm. “What the fuck kind of lame date is that?”

“It’ll be fun,” Kirishima insisted, not too put off by Bakugou’s initial assessment. Bakugou called everything lame bullshit at first, so it wasn’t exactly a mark of failure. She shouldered the backpack with one hand and stuck out the other hand for Bakugou. “Come on.”

“Ugh, fine,” Bakugou said, taking Kirishima’s hand. Kirishima felt a silly smile spread over her face when Bakugou twined their fingers together. “But you can’t eat with this hand now.”

“I brought wet wipes,” Kirishima informed her. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Sure you do.” Bakugou’s voice was so thick with sarcasm Kirishima could have packed that for them to eat, but whatever. She shut up once they were outside walking, which usually happened if Kirishima had the sense not to keep her going.

The weather was beautiful, probably the last of the really warm golden days of summer before fall turned the weather, and that was one of the reasons Kirishima had wanted to go outside for their date. Bakugou loved being warm and got charged up being in the sun, and Kirishima figured she wouldn’t pass up a chance just to laze around in the sun. She hadn’t tried to look especially nice for their date, just a torn up pair of jeans and a black T-shirt that read “Meteors didn’t kill the dinosaurs I DID,” but Kirishima thought she looked most attractive like this anyway, relaxed, not puffed up like a threatened fugu fish.

Bakugou was less than impressed when Kirishima didn’t even take them off campus, just walked them back to an off-the-path clearing, the trees screening them from the main paths and buildings.

“Did you plan this ten minutes ago?” Bakugou asked, folding her arms. “Be honest, you can’t lie for shit.”

“No! Listen, jerk,” Kirishima said, shoving the backpack into Bakugou’s hands so she could shake out the blanket on the grass. “It’s quiet and it’s pretty, the weather’s really nice, nobody comes back this far, and we didn’t have to get permission to go off campus or have to worry about getting back in before the gates get locked. We can just lay here in the sun and…whatever.”

“Whatever?” Bakugou smirked and Kirishima blushed.

“If you want,” she said, trying not to sound that embarrassed. She’d let Bakugou do some pretty questionable things to her already, so getting embarrassed about it now seemed really stupid. “Or we spar, or nap, whatever you want. No one will bug us for at least a couple hours, is the point.”

Bakugou didn’t say anything right away, the corner of her mouth twitching, and Kirishima could have yelled in victory when Bakugou let it turn into a small smile. She flopped down on her ass on the blanket, careless and ungainly. “Fine. What’d you bring to eat?”

“Yeah, that part’s not that exciting,” Kirishima had to admit, sitting down cross-legged next to Bakugou and unzipping her backpack. “It’s just sandwiches and chips and sodas.”

“Classy,” Bakugou said dryly, taking the sandwich Kirishima handed her and examining it through the plastic. “Peanut butter and jelly, ooh la la.”

“Shut up, did you expect some cutesy boxed lunch?” Kirishima snorted when Bakugou said yeah, a little, get with it. Kirishima paused before pulling out the last item. “There is one special thing for dessert.”

“Yeah?” Bakugou took a huge bite of her sandwich. “Wa’sit?”

With a flourish, Kirishima pulled out a whole box of special edition All Might Kit-Kats, Strawberry Cheesecake EXPLOSION flavor. Bakugou’s eyes went wide and she coughed, choking on peanut butter.

“Where did you find those?!” she demanded once Kirishima had pounded her back.

“I had to go to like ten combinis,” Kirishima said, so proud of herself the skin across her shoulders crinkled, half-quirked. “The guy let me buy a whole unopened case, so you can keep the box. I’m awesome, right? Go on, say.”

“You’re great, yeah,” Bakugou said, turning the package over in her hands rather than looking at Kirishima, but it didn’t have quite the false ring to it that most of what Bakugou said did. “Have you tried one yet?”

“Nope, I was waiting for you,” Kirishima said. It was almost comical watching explosion murder king Bakugou trying to open the cardboard top of the package delicately enough to keep from tearing the box. When she freed the individual boxes, each of them had a flexing All Might emblazoned across the front, with an explosion speech bubble yelling ‘FRUIT ULTRA!’ “Internet says they’re a lot better than those Endeavor Cinnamon candies, though.”

“I should fucking hope so.” Bakugou thumbed the first box open and pulled out one of the pairs of chocolate. Kirishima expected her to shove the whole thing in her mouth, but she snapped it neatly in half and shoved one of the sticks into Kirishima’s mouth. Kirishima was so surprised she bit the end of it off, then started laughing at the look on Bakugou’s face.

They finished off the first box of Kit-Kats, then actually ate some sandwiches and chips before Bakugou gave in and tore open a second Kit-Kat. She offered Kirishima a whole box of her own, but Kirishima shook her head and said she’d bought them for Bakugou.

“I mean, you might save just one for Midoriya,” she suggested.

“As if I fucking would,” Bakugou snarled, unsurprisingly. Kirishima had already mentioned to Todoroki where she’d found them, so she had no doubt that Midoriya would be getting a surprise of her own pretty soon, even assuming she hadn’t don’t some kind of insane fan Kit-Kat pre-order.

Not that Kirishima had ever done something like that during the re-release of the Crimson Riot limited run movie tie-in pocky flavor. Nope.

Kirishima was a little more surprised when Bakugou brushed off her hands and turned to put them on either side of her face, holding her still to kiss her firmly. Bakugou tasted like peanut butter and strawberry, and Kirishima grabbed for Bakugou’s waist as her eyes fluttered shut, dragging them closer. She let Bakugou push her down on her back and roll on top, insistent and sun-warm, and when Kirishima peeled her eyes open, Bakugou was backlit so brightly by the sun through her blond hair that Kirishima had to squint, heart thundering in her ears.

Bakugou’s hands were everywhere, pushing up under Kirishima’s shirt to dig into her sides, and then up to squeeze her breasts through her bra, pinching her nipples hard enough to make Kirishima whine. Kirishima dragged Bakugou’s shirt up over her head in revenge, Bakugou growling in annoyance when the fabric being yanked over her head broke their kiss.

“Your hair’s down,” Bakugou growled. She was flushed, the pink spreading from her cheeks, down her throat. Kirishima was trying to unhook Bakugou’s bra but her fingers were clumsy, distracted. “It’s annoying.”

“My hair’s annoying?” Kirishima demanded, sparing a glance up at Bakugou’s own hair sticking out every which way.

“It’s so fucking cute,” Bakugou said, and Kirishima was so surprised by the direct praise that her fingers froze. Bakugou snorted and reached behind herself to undo the bra herself, shaking it off her arms impatiently. “Who even allowed you?”

“You think my hair’s cute?” Kirishima asked. Bakugou grumbled something, looking away, and that was as good of a yes as Kirishima ever got. Rather than press her luck, Kirishima leaned up to lick at Bakugou’s left nipple, lifting her hand to the other one, brushing it lightly with her thumb. Bakugou’s nipples were cute as hell, speaking of cute things, light pink and so sensitive. Even the light touch had Bakugou’s nipples drawing tight; Kirishima sucked, careful of her teeth, and Bakugou moaned through clenched teeth before shoving Kirishima back down flat.

She was beautiful, Kirishima thought fuzzily as Bakugou dug fingers into Kirishima’s waist and kneed her thighs further apart. It was really unfair that somebody as powerful and smart as Bakugou was fucking gorgeous to boot. Then Bakugou dragged her fingernails lightly across Kirishima’s bare stomach, driving all thoughts out of Kirishima’s head.

“Shoulda worn a skirt,” Bakugou said, smile sharp as she trailed fingers up the inseam of Kirishima’s jeans. Kirishima tried not to shiver so obviously, because Bakugou liked that power way too much, but she couldn’t stop her hips rising into it when Bakugou palmed the soft mound under her zipper. “Make this a lot easier.”

“Remember that next time,” Kirishima muttered, never so desperate to unzip her jeans in her entire life. She only got them halfway down her thighs before Bakugou was already sliding a hand down into her underwear, not shy at all about running them through Kirishima’s slick folds. Kirishima, on the other hand, was a little embarrassed how wet she already was.

“This okay?” Bakugou asked, more seriously. She wiggled her fingers to draw attention to what she meant, making Kirishima’s breath catch. “My quirk.”

“Didn’t hurt me last time,” Kirishima said, and maybe she should be more cautious, but the last thing she wanted was Bakugou’s fingers to go anywhere but inside her. The first bunch of times they’d either not gone all the way, Kirishima had touched herself, or a few times Bakugou had used her mouth instead. But last time she’d forgotten herself until she was already knuckle deep inside Kirishima, Kirishima so far gone from teasing that she’d come on them before Bakugou had thought to pull them out. “I think it’s because…” Kirishima was already too warm, but somehow dragged up a deeper blush. “You know, I’m so…”

“Wet?” Bakugou asked, glancing down to where her wrist disappeared into Kirishima’s underwear. Her expression was weirdly thoughtful for sex. “Might dilute it, yeah. And you’re always dripping before I even touch you.”

“Don’t talk about it,” Kirishima groaned, mortified. It wasn’t like she needed more reminding how easy she was for Bakugou.

“Why not?” Bakugou tilted her head. “Why’s that embarrassing? You’re into it, so? That’s fucking hot.” Kirishima groaned softly, still embarrassed and squirming for Bakugou to get on with it. It just made a sly grin spread across Bakugou’s face. “It’s so hot when you get all slick for me.”

“Oh god,” Kirishima said, arching up into it when Bakugou slid two fingers inside. “Don’t talk.”

“You’re totally into it,” Bakugou chuckled, the glint of her eyes saying she was into it too, much more than was good for Kirishima’s sanity. “And you squeeze so tight around my fingers, that’s hot too. You like my fingers a lot, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” Kirishima whispered, feeling close to bursting into flames from the combination of arousal and embarrassment. Bakugou’s fingers felt amazing, pressing in deeper than Kirishima could get her own, sending a jolt of pleasure up Kirishima’s abdomen when she pressed them up.

“Better than my mouth?” Bakugou asked.

“N-no…I don’t know,” Kirishima panted, shaking her head. “I like b-both…nngh, come on.”

“Help out.” Bakugou leaned in to mouth at the shell of Kirishima’s ear, whispering into it. “Help and I’ll get them in there so deep while you do it.”

Past words, Kirishima obeyed, working her hand down under Bakugou’s wrist to circle her clit with her middle finger. She felt over-sensitized to everything, Bakugou’s fingers curling inside her and the flex of Bakugou’s tendons where her wrist was caught tight against the back of Kirishima’s hand, her own touch making everything wind tighter and tighter. She caught on the edge of orgasm for a long breathless second, then a long shudder rolled through her from hips to skull, feeling like her whole body centered on where she was clenched tight around Bakugou’s fingers. Coming lasted longer with something inside her, and Kirishima’s muscles were shivering with exertion by the time she went limp against the blanket.

“Should I stop?” Bakugou asked, sounding a bit breathless herself.

“No,” Kirishima moaned, hips tipping up into her fingers still. Bakugou had slowed from a hard thrusting motion into more of a steady roll in and back, sending heat through Kirishima like waves rushing in and fading back. She tried to spread her legs wider and groaned in annoyance when her jeans still trapped her thighs. “Yeah. My jeans…”

“Yeah, these are annoying,” Bakugou agreed. She slid her hand free, ignoring Kirishima’s curse of complaint and grabbed Kirishima’s jeans, yanking them down. Kirishima tried to help kick them off, but was still too uncoordinated to do anything but flail. Pinning her down with one hand on her hip, Bakugou finally yanked Kirishima’s jeans off one leg, enough to yank Kirishima’s knee up over her own thigh, pulling them flush together for a lazy, messy kiss. “Mm,” she muttered against Kirishima’s mouth. “Next time a skirt, for sure.”