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"Oi shitty-hair, what the fuck are you doing? We're gonna be fucking late, and you know how much my mom whines about that stupid bullshit." God fucking dammit.
Bakugou had asked his boyfriend to be ready by eight, and it was twenty minutes past already. His mom, of course, would assume it was his fault, and his dad would probably just shake his head and tell both of them to calm down. Annoying assholes, both of them.
"Dude, I'm not sure if I should wear this," Kirishima's voice called out from their bedroom, and Bakugou clenched his fists together and concentrated on not blowing up his fancy -and very fucking expensive- suit.
"Are you fucking kidding me, fuckmunch? I told you we were supposed to leave at eight fifteen, and you're not even sure about your clothes yet? How long will doing your hair take you?" he shouted, stomping to the hallway leading to Kirishima.
"No, my hair's fine," Kirishima shouted back.
Bakugou threw the door open full-force, ready to give a verbal lashing to his boyfriend, but when he saw him, the words died in his throat.
Kirishima was wearing a suit similar to his, except for the finer, crimson red details on the lapels of the jacket. The trousers fit him stupidly good, unlike Bakugou's, which had to be held up by a belt. and Kirishima had chosen to wear his hair down, so the brushed locks now framed his face like a waterfall made of liquid fire. He bent over to pick up his -also crimson- tie from the bed, and oh wow, those trousers fit him really well.
"Can you help me tie this?" Kirishima asked, turning around and holding the tie in his hands. Bakugou tched. "Come here, shitty-hair. Swear to God, can't do anything on your own," he muttered under his breath, but Kirishima just smiled, making his breath stutter a bit in his throat. Damn Kirishima and his stupid, not sexy grins.
"Thanks man," Kirishima said.His eyebrows creased. "How's the outfit though?"
Bakugou averted his eyes to the ceiling.
"That bad, huh?" Kirishima was fucking blind or some shit.
"It's fine, shitty-hair," he growled, clacking his tongue. Kirishima perked up in response.
"Really? You like it?"
Bakugou scowled. "...Yes, I like it," he replied, attempting to reign in his urges and actually listen to that voice in his head telling him to not do this, they were going to be late.
Kirishima turned away and reached up the closet for the box with his dress shoes, and his crisp white shirt rode up, exposing a part of his midriff, and just like that, Bakugou's self control snapped in half.
He rushed forward, nearly tripping over scattered clothes, shoes, and what-not, and grabbed Kirishima by the waist, pushing him against the hard surface of the closet.
"Bakugou?..."
His hands started roaming everywhere, searching for skin and pulling loose ties and buttons as he kissed the back of Kirishima's neck.
"Bakugou, baby, I thought- ah, I thought you didn't want us to be late?" Kirishima asked, already sounding breathless. Bakugou bit at the junction of his shoulder.
"I don't give a fuck if we're late, just shut up and take your stupid fucking clothes off."