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1.
The gym was quiet, except for the hum of Bakugo’s treadmill and the relentless thudding of Kirishima’s fists against the sandbag. The air reeked of sweat and cleaning spray, the kind of smell that clung to places like this no matter how much you scrubbed. It was late, probably too late to still be here, but neither of them seemed ready to call it a night.
Kirishima, of course, was talking. Because Kirishima was always talking. Something about a villain he’d taken down earlier, some idiot with a quirk that turned his hair into knives. Bakugo was only catching bits and pieces of it, not because he didn’t care, but because his brain had checked out about five minutes ago.
He couldn’t focus, not when Kirishima looked like that.
Every punch sent his muscles flexing under that stupidly tight tank top, his shoulders rolling with a fluid strength that made Bakugo feel like he was overheating. Sweat dripped down his neck, glistening under the gym lights, and Bakugo’s eyes followed every drop like he was in some trashy romance movie. And then there was the lip thing, how Kirishima kept licking his lips, little flicks of his tongue, totally absent and completely unfair.
Bakugo almost tripped.
He caught himself at the last second, gripping the treadmill handles with a muttered “Shit” as he scrambled to lower the speed before he went flying. Real smooth. Great job. That’s exactly the image you want to project when you’re trying not to look like a complete idiot in front of your best friend-turned-crush-turned-whatever the fuck this was.
Not that Kirishima noticed. Of course, he didn’t. He was too busy pounding the sandbag like it had insulted his mom.
“And then, get this, the guy tried to run through a glass door,” Kirishima said, his grin audible even over the sound of his fists hitting the bag. “Like, who does that? Did he think the knives on his head were gonna cut through tempered glass or something? Anyway, Fat Gum almost...”
Bakugo tuned him out again, not on purpose, he just couldn’t. His brain wasn’t working. It wasn’t like this was new. He’d been into Kirishima for years, but he’d spent the first few pretending it was just friendship. They’d been through hell together, forged something solid and unshakable, and Bakugo figured it was just that, some unspoken bond.
Except it wasn’t. Not when Kirishima laughed like that. Not when he looked like a goddamn action figure with a heart of gold. Not when he filled every gap in Bakugo’s life so easily it didn’t even feel like work.
And now? Standing there, sweat-drenched, muscles popping, and grinning like he wasn’t the most ridiculously perfect person on the planet? Yeah, Bakugo was done for. There was no pretending anymore. He was whipped, and it was pathetic.
Kirishima paused to adjust the tape on his hands, glancing over his shoulder. “You good over there, Katsuki? You’ve been quiet. Not like you.”
Bakugo’s heart did a weird flip. He grunted, forcing his eyes back on the treadmill display. “I’m fine. Focus on your punches, Red. You’re gonna embarrass yourself if that bag fights back.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who almost ate shit just now.” Kirishima teased, a grin tugging at his lips.
“Shut up.”
Kirishima laughed and it echoed through the gym, filling every corner of the space like it always did. That laugh could’ve knocked the wind out of Bakugo better than any villain.
A few minutes passed, Kirishima rambling again while Bakugo pretended to be interested in the blinking numbers on the treadmill. But his attention kept slipping, dragged back to the way Kirishima moved, how he rolled his shoulders before each punch. It wasn’t fair. How was he supposed to focus when everything about Kirishima was so…
“You’re staring,” Kirishima said suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts.
Bakugo stiffened. “The hell I am.”
“You totally are.” He leaned against the sandbag, his grin downright mischievous now. “What’s on your mind, Katsuki?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
Bakugo slowed the treadmill to a stop, grabbing the towel draped over the side. He wiped his face, hoping to buy himself a second to think. His mind raced for an excuse, but all he could hear was Kirishima’s voice and the stupid thud of his heart.
“Seriously, what’s up?”
For a second, Bakugo thought about telling him, but then Kirishima smirked, and all that vulnerability got swallowed up by his pride. “I was just thinking about how much you suck.” He said, tossing the towel at Kirishima’s face.
Kirishima caught it, laughing again. “That’s your way of saying you missed me today, huh?”
“Yeah, sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.” Bakugo grabbed his water bottle, taking a long sip to avoid looking at him.
But Kirishima didn’t let it drop, he tossed the towel over his shoulder, his grin softening as he leaned against the sandbag again. “Come on, Katsuki, you’ve been weird all night. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
He could feel the weight of the redhead eyes, the way he always waited patiently for an answer, no matter how long it took. It was frustrating in the worst way, making Bakugo’s chest hurt until it was almost impossible to breathe.
Before he could stop himself, the question slipped out. “Why haven’t we ever kissed?”
Kirishima's usual confidence crumbled in an instant, leaving him wide-eyed and blushing harder than Bakugo thought was even possible. His face practically matched his hair, and for the first time in years, he looked unsure.
“You want that?”
There it was, the moment he’d been waiting fo. He took a breath, forcing himself to meet Kirishima’s gaze. “Pretty obvious, or else I wouldn’t be asking.”
Kirishima blinked, his lips parting as if he was about to say something, but nothing came out. He just stood there, the blush creeping down his neck, making him look uncharacteristically soft, and damn it, he had never looked prettier.
The silence stretched on, long enough for Bakugo to start regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment, then, slowly, Kirishima stepped closer.
“I didn’t think you’d want that.”
“You’re an idiot.” Bakugo shot back. “Of course I want it.”
Kirishima smiled then, shyly, like he was still trying to process what was happening. He hesitated for half a second before saying, “Okay.”
Bakugo's body just moved, snapping forward like a spring that had been wound too tight for years. One step, then another, and suddenly Kirishima was right in front of him. He could smell the salt on his skin, see the sweat dripping down his neck. It wasn’t fair, nothing about him was fair.
He grabbed Kirishima’s wrist, pulling him close enough that their breaths mingled. His other hand slammed against the wall beside the redhead head, caging him in. “You’re not running away.”
Kirishima’s eyes widened, his lips parting as if to speak, but Bakugo wasn’t interested in hearing whatever he was about to say. He leaned in, taking in everything, how flushed Kirishima looked, how warm his skin was, how his chest rose and fell like he was holding his breath.
He wanted all of it, so he didn’t wait. His mouth crashed into Kirishima’s like it was the only thing that mattered, the only thing that had ever mattered. It was messy, desperate, and downright greedy, but he didn’t care. His lips moved hungrily, demanding everything Kirishima had to give.
For a moment, the redhead froze, his muscles tensing under Bakugo’s grip, but then, like a dam breaking, he melted into it, his hands fisting in Bakugo’s shirt and pulling him closer. Bakugo growled against his mouth, finally tasting the salt and heat he’d been imagining all night.
His hand tangled in Kirishima’s hair, tilting his head to get a better angle, to kiss him harder, deeper. Every little sound Kirishima made sent a thrill racing down his spine. He wanted to drown in it, to devour him whole.
When Kirishima finally pulled back, gasping for air, his face was as red as his hair, his eyes wide with shock. “Katsuki...”
“Shut up.” He growled, pulling him in for another kiss
He kissed him like a man starved, like he’d been waiting forever and didn’t have the patience to go slow, because he had.
When they broke apart again, Kirishima was panting, his forehead pressed against Bakugo’s. He looked dazed, like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. “You’re really bad at taking it slow, huh?”
Bakugo snorted, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Slow’s for losers. You could’ve made a move years ago, Ei.”
“Me?!” Kirishima’s laugh was breathless, but it was there, bright and full of life. “You’re the one who never said anything!”
“Didn’t have to. Pretty obvious I wanted this.” Bakugo brushed his thumb over his cheek. “Not my fault you’re dense.”
Bakugo didn’t know much about addiction, but if it worked this fast, he was done for. Kirishima’s taste was stuck in his head, in his chest, everywhere. Whatever stupid thing the redhead had been about to say didn’t matter, because he shut him up the only way that made sense.
His lips crashed into Kirishima’s like he was trying to consume him whole.
Kirishima barely managed a muffled noise of surprise before he gave in, gripping Bakugo’s shoulders like his life depended on it, and when he pulled back, face flushed, lips swollen, he looked completely wrecked, and Bakugo had never been prouder of himself.
“You kiss like you’re trying to win a fight.” Kirishima said, laughing between breaths, his voice coming out rough from all the kissing.
Bakugo didn’t even think to respond. His mind was already set on one thing, more! He leaned back in, aiming to capture Kirishima’s mouth again, already chasing that taste he couldn’t get enough of.
But before he could close the distance, Kirishima laughed, wrapping him up in a hug instead. Bakugo’s face was crushed against his shoulder, and he froze, blinking in confusion as he felt Kirishima’s lips press against his forehead.
He groaned, pulling back enough to glare up at him. “What the hell? I wasn’t done.”
Kirishima grinned down at him, his cheeks still glowing. “Oh, I figured that out, Katsuki. Believe me, I know. But you’re not getting more kisses until you take me on a date first.”
Bakugo stared at him, processing the words. A date? Who cared about dates? He needed to kiss Kirishima right now, and if he had to hear one more laugh instead of feeling those lips, he was going to lose it.
“Fine,” he said firmly, like he was negotiating terms for a hostage situation. “Whatever you want. A date. Let’s do it. Just stop laughing and kiss me already.”
But Kirishima shook his head, looking way too pleased with himself. “Nope. You gotta take me on a proper date first. Those are the rules.”
Rules? What rules? Bakugo’s brain scrambled for ideas, anything that would get him what he wanted. “I’ll take you anywhere. To the damn moon if I have to! We’ll have a date in space. A galaxy date.”
Kirishima chuckled again, his laughter shaking them both as he hugged Bakugo closer. “That’s a big promise, Katsuki.”
“I’m serious,” Bakugo said, pulling back enough to stare at him. “I’ll pour Italian wine in your mouth, I’ll feed you grapes like you’re a Greek god, I don’t care. Just name it. Anything. We’re doing it.”
The grin on Kirishima’s face softened, the teasing melting into something warm and almost bashful. “You’d do all that just for a kiss, huh?”
“For your kisses? Yeah.”
Kirishima smiled at that, leaning in until their foreheads touched again. “You’ve got yourself a deal, then. Take me somewhere nice, and you can have as many kisses as you want.”
“Good,” Bakugo said firmly, grabbing the front of Kirishima’s shirt like he was making sure he didn’t change his mind. “But just so you know, it’s gonna be the best damn date of your life.”
“Looking forward to it, but for now...” He leaned down, brushing a quick kiss against his lips, pulling back before he could chase him. “A preview.”
Bakugo growled low in his throat, already plotting. He was a man on a mission, and nothing, not even Kirishima’s stupid rules, was going to stop him from getting exactly what he wanted.
2.
Bakugo was losing it. He knew exactly how long it had been since Kirishima kissed him. Five days, seven hours, and a stupid number of minutes that only made him angrier every time he thought about it. Hell, he could probably calculate the seconds if someone asked. This was insanity. Full-on, frothing-at-the-mouth madness.
He needed help. Maybe a psychiatrist. Maybe some tranquilizers. Or maybe just Kirishima’s mouth on his, preferably forever, so he could finally function like a normal human being again.
But Kirishima was running. That bastard was actively avoiding him. They had a date planned in five days, and Kirishima hadn’t come near him since he’d laid down that ridiculous rule. He was dodging Bakugo like some nervous virgin avoiding temptation, and it was driving Bakugo out of his mind.
He was so grumpy, so unbearably on edge, that Mirko was having the time of her life teasing him. Every little thing he said got some irritating smirk or dumb comment, and he was this close to blowing up a chair just to vent.
“Don’t you have something better to do than sit there grinning like an idiot?” Bakugo snapped, slamming his locker shut harder than necessary.
“Nope.” Mirko said breezily, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, her ears twitching as if she could hear how close he was to combusting. “This is better than TV. You’re, like, a walking rom-com right now.”
“I’ll kill you.” Bakugo blunted, stalking past her. “I’m going out. I’m gonna patrol the north zone. You can’t fucking stop me.”
Mirko’s smirk widened, and he immediately regretted saying anything. “The north zone, huh? Didn’t Fat Gum open an agency up there last summer?”
Bakugo froze, his teeth grinding together as he turned to glare at her. “What’s your point?”
“No point,” she said innocently. “Just funny how you’ve suddenly decided the north zone is your top priority. Totally unrelated to a certain redhead, I’m sure.”
“I hate you.”
“Tell Red Riot that he was amazing last week, fighting that rhino man.” She called after him, laughing as he slammed the door behind him.
As Bakugo headed toward the north zone, his mind was already racing. If Kirishima thought he could hide, he had another thing coming. He wasn’t about to wait five more days for that date, not when every second felt like torture.
It took almost three hours, three long hours of searching every corner of the north zone, stopping only to glare at anyone who dared waste his time with pointless questions or small talk. But finally, finally, Bakugo spotted him.
Kirishima stood at the end of the block, right in the middle of a small crowd of civilians. Five of them, to be exact, hanging on his every word like he was some kind of goddamn celebrity.
Which, fine, he was. Bakugo knew damn well Kirishima’s fanbase was massive. People were crazy about Red Riot, and they should be. He was dependable, strong, always smiling like the sun itself had decided to take human form. His fanbase was probably second only to Hawks and that icy bastard Todoroki, who somehow made brooding look cool.
But none of that mattered, not when Bakugo had spent hours hunting him down like a man possessed. Watching Kirishima laugh and wave at his fans like he didn’t have a care in the world only made his blood boil.
And yeah, maybe Bakugo’s irritation wasn’t entirely about the wasted time. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he had his own Red Riot fan ID tucked away in his bedroom. Maybe he had priority access to merch and exclusive fan drops. So what? Everyone needed hobbies, and if his just so happened to include collecting rare Red Riot posters and figurines, then that was nobody’s business but his own.
But none of that changed the fact that seeing him surrounded by adoring fans while Bakugo had been losing his mind for days was enough to make him want to blow something up.
He stormed forward, his boots scuffing loudly against the pavement. The sound must have been enough to grab attention, because one of the civilians turned, their eyes widening like they’d just spotted a celebrity.
“Wait, isn’t that Dynamight?” They asked, nudging their friend.
The rest of the group turned in unison, their whispers rising as they realized who was approaching. Bakugo ignored them entirely, his focus locked on Kirishima, who had the audacity, the actual nerve, to blush when he heard his name.
Kirishima turned his head, his eyes meeting Bakugo’s, and that smile of his, bright and easy, lit up his face like a damn spotlight. His cheeks were dusted pink, and Bakugo cursed the fact that he was a professional hero because if he weren’t so disciplined, he would’ve kissed him right then and there.
Instead, he stopped just short of the group, his hands shoved into his pockets as he glared, not at Kirishima, but at the space around him, like the mere existence of the world was in his way. “I was looking for you, Red.”
The fans looked at each other, wide-eyed and giddy, but Bakugo paid them no mind. This wasn’t about them.
Kirishima’s blush deepened. “Uh, yeah? What for? Something happen?”
“What do you think? You’ve been avoiding me.”
Kirishima’s eyes widened for a moment before he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t avoiding you! I’ve just been busy, y’know, hero stuff.”
“Yeah, hero stuff.” Bakugo echoed mockingly. “You’ve got time for your little fan club, but not for me?”
The fans gasped.
Kirishima winced, glancing at the group apologetically before stepping closer to Bakugo. “What are you even doing here, Katsuki?”
“I told you, I was looking for you.” Bakugo said while leaning in, just enough to make his blush spread to his ears. “What, you thought you could just run off and I wouldn’t notice? You’re not that sneaky.” The redhead sputtered, clearly trying to think of something to say, but Bakugo cut him off before he could get too far. “If you’re so busy, maybe I’ll just stick around, y'know, to make sure you’re not working too hard.”
Kirishima opened his mouth to reply, probably to come up with some excuse, but Bakugo wasn’t interested in hearing it. He slung an arm around Kirishima’s shoulders, pulling him close as he started walking. “C’mon, Red, no need to thank me for being so thoughtful.”
“Thoughtful?!” Kirishima yelped, his face somehow redder than before.
Bakugo ignored him, glancing back over his shoulder where the group of fans still stood, watching with a mix of confusion and excitement. Without hesitation, Bakugo stuck his tongue out at them, scrunching up his face like a bratty kid showing off his prize. The gasp that followed was entirely satisfying.
“Katsuki!” Kirishima hissed, glancing back at the fans in embarrassment. “You can’t just...”
“Can’t what?” Bakugo cut him off, the words coming out without much thought.
And yeah, it was daylight, and yeah, people were still walking along the streets, going about their business. But none of that mattered. Not when Bakugo spotted an empty alley just a few steps away, the perfect escape from prying eyes.
He pushed Kirishima back just enough to get them hidden in the shadows, away from the bustling street. The second they were out of sight, Bakugo grabbed the front of Kirishima’s pants and shoved him against the wall, not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to make his point.
“What are you...” He started, his voice trailing off as Bakugo leaned in, his face so close now that their breaths mingled.
Bakugo didn’t bother answering. He crashed his lips against his in a kiss that was nothing short of possessive. For about two seconds, Kirishima made a sound that could’ve been a protest, his hands hovered awkwardly in the air, as if he didn’t know what to do with them. But then he melted, the hesitation vanishing as his hands found Bakugo’s sides and pulled him closer.
The kiss deepened, and Kirishima leaned into it fully, his body pressing against Bakugo’s as though he couldn’t stand the space between them.
Bakugo smirked against his mouth, the victory sweet. He tilted his head, angling the kiss to taste more of him, his hands sliding up to grip Kirishima’s broad shoulders. Every little noise he made, every soft exhale and small hitch of breath, only pushed Bakugo to kiss him harder.
Nothing else existed but the way Bakugo let himself get completely lost in the way Kirishima felt under his hands, the way his lips moved like they were made for this.
When they finally broke apart for air, Kirishima’s chest was heaving like he’d just run a marathon. He stared at Bakugo, as if trying to process what had just happened.
“Katsuki...”
Bakugo didn’t let him finish. He leaned in again, his forehead pressing against Kirishima’s, his smirk still firmly in place. “Told you I’d find you, Red.” He leaned in, pressing one more kiss against his lips, before pulling back with a satisfied grin. “See you later, Ei.”
Kirishima blinked at him, his face still flushed, his mouth parted as if he wanted to respond but couldn’t quite find the words. He looked completely stunned, and Bakugo couldn’t have been more pleased with himself.
Without another word, Bakugo turned on his heel and walked out of the alley, leaving Kirishima standing there like a statue. The grin on his face didn’t fade as he stepped back into the sunlight, weaving through the pedestrians on the busy street. He didn’t even care about the people whispering and glancing his way. Hell, he even started whistling as he made his way back toward Mirko’s agency.
By the time Bakugo reached the agency, his name was already starting to trend online. Tweets flooded in, each one more dramatic than the last.
“I just saw Dynamight, and he was WHISTLING. Like, smiling and WHISTLING. Who hurt him? Or better yet, who fixed him???”
“Dynamight just walked past me with the cockiest grin I’ve ever seen. Is he okay?”
“Breaking: Dynamight spotted smiling in the wild. Experts are baffled.”
Mirko raised an eyebrow when she saw him, a knowing grin creeping onto her face. “Well, well, look who’s back. You get whatever was stuck up your ass sorted out?”
“None of your business.” Bakugo said, plopping down onto the couch in the lounge like he owned the place.
Her grin only widened as she leaned against the doorway. “Twitter says otherwise.”
“Shut up.” He said, but the slight blush creeping onto his cheeks betrayed him.
She laughed, shaking her head as she walked away. “Whatever you say, loverboy.”
3.
Bakugo hadn’t planned on getting hurt, especially not the night before his first date with Kirishima. It was supposed to be a routine patrol, nothing fancy, nothing worth breaking a sweat over. But then some overconfident asshole with a quirk for throwing molten concrete decided to make a mess, and Bakugo wasn’t the kind of guy to hold back. Sure, the villain was dealt with, and every scratch was paid for tenfold, but now he was limping down the street with a busted leg and blood soaking into his costume from a cut on his stomach.
The paramedics at the scene had tried to drag him to the ambulance, insisting he needed stitches, but Bakugo waved them off. He was only four blocks from Kirishima’s apartment, and if there was anyone he trusted to patch him up, it was him. Plus, if he went to the hospital, it would take forever, and he didn’t want to miss his damn date.
By the time he reached Kirishima’s building, he was starting to feel the blood loss more than he cared to admit. His steps were uneven, and he cursed under his breath with every sharp throb from his leg. When he finally knocked on Kirishima’s door, he was running on pure adrenaline and sheer stubbornness.
The door opened after a few seconds, and before Kirishima could even say a word, Bakugo let himself fall forward, leaning heavily on him. He didn’t worry about Kirishima catching him; he knew without a doubt that he would.
Sure enough, Kirishima’s strong arms came around him, holding him steady. “Katsuki, what the hell...” Bakugo’s face pressed into his neck, and the other’s voice tickled against his skin. “I heard explosions, knew it was you. What happened?”
“Idiot with a concrete quirk, got in my way. Took him down, but...” He gestured vaguely at his stomach.
Kirishima hissed through his teeth, one hand already moving to lift his costume and check the wound. “You’re bleeding. Badly. Why didn’t you go to the medics?”
“Because I’m four blocks away, and I don’t trust anyone else to deal with this.”
Kirishima sighed, his hand tightening on his waist as he helped him inside. “Alright, come on. Sit down. I’ll get my kit.”
Bakugo let himself be led to the couch, flopping onto it with a wince. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes as he listened to Kirishima move around the apartment, opening drawers and gathering supplies.“You’re lucky I’m home, you know.”
“Just fix me up, Red. I’ve got plans tomorrow.”
Kirishima paused for a second, his hands gentle as he cleaned the wound. “You mean our date?”
“No, I mean tea with Todoroki.” He deadpanned, earning a snort from the other. “Of course I mean the date. Think I’m gonna let a little blood stop me?”
Kirishima worked with the kind of care that could’ve been reserved for something priceless, like he was carving marble or painting fine details on an ancient masterpiece. His hands moved gently as he cleaned the wound on Bakugo’s stomach. It wasn’t the first time they’d done this for each other, patching each other up after battles, exchanging grumbled words of gratitude that always carried more weight than they let on.
Bakugo had lost count of how many times they’d sat like this over the years, the trust between them so natural it felt like breathing.
“So,” Kirishima started, “are you gonna tell me where we’re going tomorrow, or is it a surprise?”
Bakugo smirked, his eyes flicking down to where his hands were still tending to his stomach. “Depends, what’s it worth to you?”
Kirishima raised an eyebrow but didn’t stop what he was doing. “Worth to me? What do you want, Katsuki? A thank-you? My undying gratitude?”
“Close.” He drawled, his smirk growing. “I’ll tell you if you give me a kiss.”
That made Kirishima pause. His hands stilled over Bakugo’s stomach, and he blinked, his face slowly flushing as the words sank in. “A kiss?”
“Yeah. One kiss. That’s the price. Take it or leave it.”
Kirishima stared at him for a moment, his bloody gaze dropping to his hands as if he was trying to process what he’d just heard.
Then, he set down the antiseptic wipes, leaned forward, and kissed him. It was soft and so natural it made Bakugo’s heart skip a beat, and when he pulled back, his cheeks were red, but he was smiling, his gaze warm as it met Bakugo’s. “There. Now tell me where we’re going.”
Bakugo smirked, leaning back just enough to look smug but not enough to miss the way his lips still seemed so kissable. “I’m taking you out to eat.”
Kirishima rolled his eyes, already seeing through him. “Wow, that’s specific. Thanks for narrowing it down, Katsuki.”
“What? You didn’t ask for details. I answered your question.”
The redhead shook his head, the smile tugging at his lips betraying how little he minded. “Fine. Then give me the details.”
“Sure,” Bakugo said, his grin widening. “But it’s gonna cost you another kiss.”
That earned him a laugh, the kind of laugh that filled the entire room and warmed Bakugo in ways he didn’t know he needed. “You’re impossible, man.” Kirishima said, shaking his head again as he turned his attention back to cleaning the wound on his stomach.
If he knew how much self-control it was taking for Bakugo not to grab him by the collar and keep kissing him until tomorrow, he’d probably give him a damn medal. Every inch of Bakugo wanted to close the space between them again, to taste Kirishima’s smile and feel his hands on him for hours, but somehow, somehow, he managed to stay put.
Barely.
He smirked, watching Kirishima work. “You’ve got till tomorrow, Red. Better rest up. I’m not going easy on you when we’re out.”
Kirishima laughed again. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”
And damn it, if Bakugo could’ve bottled that smile, he would’ve. But for now, he’d settle for tomorrow.
4.
"I'm pretty sure we're committing a crime." Kirishima said, his arms were crossed as he glanced around the rooftop of Musutafu Tower, the highest point in the entire city. The view was breathtaking, but there was a distinct note of suspicion in his tone. "Like invasion? Are we invading right now? Are we criminals?"
Bakugo snorted, leaning casually against the railing. "We're not invading, dumbass. I know people that owe me favors. That’s all you need to know."
Kirishima didn’t push further. Instead, he took in their surroundings, the glittering city below them, every street and building stretching out like a sea of light. It felt unreal, standing at the very top of Musutafu, the entire world sprawling beneath their feet.
It wasn’t just the view, though. The night itself seemed perfect. The air was crisp and clean, the kind of weather that wasn’t too cold or too warm, just hovering in that sweet spot where everything felt comfortable. Above them, the stars filled the sky in numbers Bakugo hadn’t seen in years, twinkling like tiny lanterns. It was the kind of sky that made you believe in magic, or maybe even gods.
And speaking of gods, he looked over at Kirishima, and he didn’t think the view could get any better, but somehow, it did.
Bakugo’s gaze lingered on Kirishima longer than he intended, the faintest furrow forming between his brows. He told himself it was nothing, just a passing observation, but the way Kirishima looked tonight made his chest feel uncomfortably tight. The button-up hugged his broad frame in a way that shouldn’t have been distracting, but he couldn’t help the way his eyes traced the faint line of Kirishima’s collarbone peeking through.
And that damn bun.
It made him mad, the way his brain stuttered over thoughts he wouldn’t dare say aloud. Kirishima tugged at his shirt collar, a nervous habit Bakugo had noticed a thousand times over, and all he could think was how badly he wanted to walk over there and tell him he looked fine. More than fine, really.
“You gonna keep staring, or are you gonna tell me what we’re doing up here?” Kirishima teased, his voice light as he shoved his hands in his pockets.
Bakugo didn’t respond immediately because his gaze lingered, his eyes scanning Kirishima like he was trying to memorize every detail. The way the moonlight framed his broad shoulders, the way his shirt clung just right, the way that stupid bun made him look so effortlessly put together, it was all too much.
“We’re having dinner, just like I told you yesterday.” Bakugo said finally, his voice more casual than it had any right to be, considering what came next. He stepped aside, gesturing to the corner of the rooftop where a picnic basket sat waiting on a neatly spread blanket, complete with a couple of lanterns casting a warm glow.
Kirishima blinked, and then his whole face lit up. “No way!” He said, his grin spreading so wide it could’ve powered half the city. “You actually brought a picnic up here?”
Bakugo shrugged like it was no big deal, though the faint pink creeping up his neck betrayed him. “Yeah, well, thought you’d like the view.”
“Who knew you’re such a romantic?” Kirishima teased, walking over to the setup and crouching down to get a closer look at the basket. His hands brushed over the blanket like he couldn’t believe it was real.
“If I’m gonna be something, I’m gonna be the best.” Bakugo shot back, following him and plopping down on the blanket without ceremony. “I’m gonna romance the hell out of you, Ei. You don’t even know.”
Kirishima laughed brightly, and Bakugo felt it settle in his chest like it belonged there. As he sat down across from him, he couldn’t stop himself from staring, his eyes tracing the soft flush that spread across the redhead cheeks.
The other was still grinning as he opened the basket, pulling out an assortment of food that was surprisingly well put together. There were sandwiches, a thermos of soup, a bottle of sparkling water, and even some small desserts packed neatly in containers.
“This is amazing.” Kirishima said, glancing up at Bakugo with a look that was equal parts impressed and fond. “Seriously, Katsuki. You didn’t have to do all this.”
“Yeah, I did.” Bakugo said bluntly, leaning back on his hands. “I told you I’d make it the best date of your life. Gotta back that up, don’t I?”
Kirishima’s cheeks darkened even more, and he laughed again, his fingers brushing over the edge of one of the containers as he looked down at the food. “You’re really full of surprises, you know that?”
“Yeah, well, you’re worth it.”
The words hung in the air for a moment, and Bakugo watched as Kirishima’s grin faltered, replaced by something softer. He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck, but the way his ears burned red gave him away.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” Bakugo said, though his eyes lingered on Kirishima’s face, still flushed from the compliment. He was utterly dizzy with how much he loved that stupid red blush, the way it made Kirishima look so, so soft.
For a moment, they ate in comfortable silence, the hum of the city below them a quiet backdrop to their little world. Then Kirishima leaned back, his gaze drifting up to the stars before falling back to Bakugo. “This feels kind of surreal, you know?”
Bakugo raised an eyebrow, chewing the last bite of his sandwich. “What does?”
“All of this.” Kirishima said, gesturing to the picnic, the city, the two of them sitting there like they were the only people in the world. His hand dropped back to the blanket, fingers brushing against the edge. “I’ve had a crush on you for years, Katsuki. Since we were stupid teenagers trying to figure out how to be heroes. But I thought, I don’t know, I thought that was it. Just a crush. I figured we’d stay best friends, and that’d be enough. I didn’t want to mess things up.”
Bakugo stared at him, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he snorted, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “You’re a real idiot sometimes.”
Kirishima blinked, his brows furrowing. “Huh?”
“You didn’t want to mess things up,” Bakugo said, rolling his eyes. “Meanwhile, I thought the opposite. I figured, someday, it’d just happen. Like, we’re already good together, right? Everything with you is always so easy. Natural. So I thought, one day, we’d just get together.”
Kirishima froze, his mouth falling open slightly as he stared at Bakugo. “You thought what?”
“Don’t make me say it again.”
Kirishima’s mouth stayed open, his gaze locked on Bakugo like he was trying to process what he’d just heard. And, of course, all Bakugo could focus on was that mouth, those sharp teeth on display, that lower lip that looked too damn inviting.
He swallowed hard, his palms itching against the blanket. Maybe he really should call his old psychiatrist, because all he could think about right now was leaning over and pressing his tongue against Kirishima’s stupidly perfect teeth.
“You really thought we’d just end up together?”
“Yeah,” He said, his voice quieter now, his eyes meeting Kirishima’s. “I guess I just didn’t think there was another way for us to be. You’ve always been there, Ei. You’re the only thing that’s ever made sense.”
Kirishima stared at him, his mouth still slightly open like he was trying to say something but couldn’t find the words. And maybe it was the way the lantern light caught in his hair, or the way his gaze felt so damn warm, but Bakugo didn’t think anymore.
His body moved on instinct, like it had been waiting for this moment forever. Before he could react, Bakugo shifted forward and slid onto his lap, his legs bracketing Kirishima’s sides like he’d done it every single day of his life.
And damn, he wanted to.
Kirishima froze for a split second, his eyes going wide, but then Bakugo kissed him, cutting off whatever protest or question might’ve been forming.
Their lips crashed together, and he responded immediately, his hands instinctively finding Bakugo’s hips as he kissed him back. The kiss was everything, and then he did something that made Bakugo’s chest squeeze and his brain short-circuit. He smiled into the kiss.
He felt it, the curve of his lips against his own, the pure happiness radiating off of him like he couldn’t hold it in. That smile made Bakugo lean in harder, his hands moving to tangle in Kirishima’s hair, pulling the tie loose until red strands fell messily around his face.
Kirishima laughed softly against his lips, his hands still on Bakugo’s waist. When they finally pulled back, just enough to breathe, Kirishima was grinning up at him, his cheeks flushed, his hair a wild mess. “You just moved, huh?”
Bakugo, still sitting in his lap, smirked down at him, his thumb brushing against Kirishima’s lower lip. “What can I say? I don’t wait around, Ei.”
“Yeah, I’m getting that.” Kirishima said, his grin widening as his hands slid up Bakugo’s back, holding him close. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“Good, because I’m not done.”
Kirishima didn’t argue, he just smiled and kissed him back, and Bakugo thought that, yeah, this was exactly how he wanted every single day to be.
5.
They weren’t hiding their relationship, not really. They just hadn’t gone out of their way to tell anyone. It wasn’t a secret, it was theirs. Something new and good that Bakugo wanted to keep to themselves for a while. Nobody else needed to know how much time they spent wrapped up in each other, whispering between kisses and sharing late-night meals like the rest of the world didn’t exist.
Bakugo had always figured that when they eventually started dating, because, deep down, he’d always known it was inevitable, he wouldn’t be into the whole PDA thing. Kissing in front of people, holding hands, being all gross and sappy? Not his style. He’d pictured himself as more reserved, keeping the intimacy private, something just for them.
But he was so fucking wrong.
Now, sitting at a crowded table with Mina, Sero, Kaminari, and a handful of their old UA classmates, including Todoroki, who definitely hadn’t been invited by him, Bakugo couldn’t care less about any of them. All he could focus on was Kirishima.
Kirishima, who looked stupidly, unfairly pretty tonight. His smile was as bright as ever, his laughter loud enough to fill the whole bar. And then there was that shirt. A white button-up that was unmistakably Bakugo’s, slightly tight on Kirishima’s broad frame, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
Bakugo felt like he’d been hit by a truck.
“Earth to Bakugo,” Mina said, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “You’re, like, weirdly quiet tonight. Who are you and what have you done with Bakugo?”
Bakugo shot her a glare, but it lacked the usual heat. “Shut up, Pinky.”
Mina gasped, clutching her chest in mock horror. “Oh my God, you didn’t even yell that. What is going on with you?”
“Nothing.” Bakugo grumbled, his eyes drifting back to Kirishima, who was mid-conversation with Kaminari about something stupid and unimportant. He caught the way Kirishima’s head tilted back as he laughed, his sharp teeth on full display, and Bakugo’s heart did an annoying little flip.
“Oh, I know that look.” Mina said, leaning in with a grin so devious it could’ve belonged to a villain. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”
“Piss off.”
Mina didn’t let up. “You’re not even trying to hide it! You’re staring at him like he hung the moon.”
“Because maybe he did!” Bakugo snapped, the words out before he could think about them.
Mina froze, her jaw dropping, and Sero, who’d been mid-sip, nearly choked on his drink. He coughed, pounding his chest with one hand as he wheezed out, “Wait, what?!”
Bakugo groaned, glaring at Sero like his coughing fit was somehow his fault. “What now?”
“What now?!” Sero shot back, his voice incredulous. “You, Bakugo Katsuki, just said something sweet about anyone, and we’re supposed to just act like that’s normal?”
“It’s none of your business.” Bakugo snapped, his glare intensifying, though the blush creeping up his neck kind of ruined the effect.
Sero didn’t back down. In fact, he looked like he was gearing up for something. He slammed his drink down on the table, pointing a finger at Bakugo with all the drama of a man on a mission. “Look, man, I’m saying this because I care. You need to just tell Kirishima you’re into him already and end both of your suffering. Seriously, we can’t take another year of this. It’s been horrible.”
Mina immediately jumped in, nodding with so much enthusiasm it was a wonder her head didn’t fall off. “He’s right! Watching you two dance around each other has been painful. Like, physical pain. I feel like I’m gonna need therapy after this.”
“Shut up, Mina.” Bakugo growled, though he sank a little lower in his seat, glaring at the edge of the table like it had personally wronged him.
But Mina wasn’t done. “I mean, everyone knows, Katsuki. Everyone! It’s so obvious! You look at Kirishima like he hung the stars or some crap, and Kirishima...”
“Don’t.” Bakugo interrupted.
“Kirishima looks at you like you invented oxygen.”
He let out a frustrated groan, his head dropping into his hand.
Even Ochaco joined in at that point, her voice teasing as she leaned over the table. “I mean, it’s kind of sweet. In a torturous kind of way. But yeah, Sero and Mina are right. You guys should just make it official already.”
“Not you too.” Bakugo grumbled, shooting Ochaco a side-eye glare that she ignored completely.
“Me too.” She said with a little shrug. “Honestly, I think the whole class knew before you guys did.”
“Exactly!” Mina chimed in, slapping her hand on the table for emphasis. “We were all betting on when you’d finally get together. I mean, I said second year, but you guys just had to drag it out.”
Sero leaned forward, grinning. “I said third year. Lost big time on that one.”
Kaminari, who had been quiet until now, raised a finger. “Pretty sure I said they wouldn’t get together until, like, after UA.”
“Won what?” Bakugo snapped, his voice dangerous.
“A bet.” Kaminari said innocently. “Y’know, about when you and Kirishima would...”
Bakugo grabbed Kaminari’s drink and downed half of it, cutting him off with a glare that could’ve set the place on fire.
“Thanks for that.” Bakugo said flatly, shoving the drink back toward Kaminari.
Todoroki, who had been sitting quietly the whole time, suddenly spoke up, his monotone cutting through the laughter and teasing like a knife. “I still think I can win the bet.”
Bakugo froze, narrowing his eyes at the dual-haired annoyance. “What the hell are you talking about, half-and-half?”
Todoroki took a sip of his drink, calm as ever. “I bet that you’d be too dense to confess, so Kirishima would have to do it first. Statistically, it's the most logical outcome.”
The table erupted into laughter, Mina practically slapping the table in delight while Kaminari nearly fell out of his chair. Even Ochaco was giggling, hiding her mouth behind her hand.
Bakugo didn’t laugh. His chair scraped against the floor as he stood, his expression dark enough to silence everyone at the table. Without a word, he turned and stalked across the bar toward where Kirishima was chatting with Tsuyu, his hands moving animatedly as he talked about something, probably something dumb, knowing him.
“Kirishima’s talking about sharks.” Tsuyu said matter-of-factly as Bakugo approached, her tone calm but curious.
“Yeah, they’ve got, like, five rows of teeth or something. Crazy, right?” Kirishima said, his grin wide as he gestured with his hands. “Oh! And did you know their skin feels like sandpaper? It’s covered in these tiny tooth-like scales called denticles. Makes them extra streamlined in the water.”
Bakugo didn’t say a word. He walked right up to him, grabbed Kirishima’s head in his hands, and kissed him.
The world seemed to stop. The chatter in the bar died instantly, replaced by the sound of multiple gasps, Mina’s the loudest of them all. But Bakugo didn’t care.
Kirishima froze for all of five seconds before his hands came up to cover Bakugo’s, holding him in place as he leaned into the kiss.
The gasps faded entirely into background noise, and Bakugo barely noticed Tsuyu slipping away, leaving them in the bubble they’d created. All that mattered was Kirishima, the way his lips moved so easily against his, how familiar it all felt.
And then Bakugo felt it, Kirishima’s tongue brushing against his, a motion so natural now that it made Bakugo feel invincible. His hands gripped Kirishima’s face just a little tighter, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, stealing whatever breath either of them had left.
It didn’t matter that they were still in a bar surrounded by their nosy, annoying friends. It didn’t matter that the entire table was probably gawking like idiots. The only thing that mattered was this, Kirishima’s hands over his, holding him, his lips warm and soft and perfect.
When they finally pulled apart, Kirishima’s cheeks were flushed like always, his breathing uneven, and his gaze was hazy with something Bakugo didn’t need words to understand. He arched an eyebrow, his question silent but obvious.
Bakugo didn’t say anything at first. He just turned, looking directly at Todoroki across the room, and flipped him off with a casual middle finger. “Just so you know,” Bakugo said loudly, his voice carrying over the hushed murmurs of their table, “I was the one who confessed first, fucker.”
Todoroki blinked, entirely unfazed. “I predicted that, too.”
Bakugo snarled, but Kirishima’s quiet laugh pulled him back. “You’re ridiculous.” He said, shaking his head as he rested his forehead against Bakugo’s neck. His hands slid down to Bakugo’s waist, holding him close as his breath tickled against his skin.
Before Bakugo could turn to kiss him again, Kaminari’s loud, gleeful voice broke through the air. “So, I won! Pass me the money, guys!”
Bakugo groaned, glaring in the direction of the table, but Kirishima’s laughter stopped him. The sound was soft, full of joy, and before he could argue with the idiots behind him, Kirishima’s lips were on his again, swallowing his laugh and stealing his breath all over again.
And Bakugo thought, yeah, this was worth every bit of teasing.
extra.
The building groaned ominously, the sound of cracking concrete and shattering glass echoing through the chaos like a warning siren. Smoke and dust filled the air, and Bakugo’s gauntlets were still hot from the last explosion he’d fired, but none of that mattered. Not the collapsing structure around them, not the villains who were still trying to regroup.
Because fuck, look at his muscles.
Kirishima was a blur of red and power, fists slamming into one villain before pivoting to kick the other into a wall like it was the easiest thing in the world. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, he turned and caught a piece of concrete the size of a car that had broken loose from the ceiling. His hands gripped the slab, veins popping along his arms as he held it over his head, his hardened skin gleaming in the chaos.
Bakugo had seen him fight a thousand times before. Almost twelve years of battles, of villains, of impossible odds, and Kirishima had never once failed to leave him impressed. But now? Watching him in the middle of this mess, strong, massive and fucking perfect? It hit different.
He felt his brain short-circuit. He wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline or the fact that Kirishima’s biceps looked like they could bench press a tank, but there was a very inappropriate warmth pooling in his gut that had no place in the middle of a goddamn battle.
He shook his head, growling under his breath as he blew another chunk of debris out of his way. “Get a fucking grip, Katsuki.” He mumbled to himself.
His thoughts were cut off as Kirishima shouted something from across the room. Bakugo couldn’t hear it clearly over the chaos, but the sight of Kirishima tossing the concrete slab like it weighed nothing and then barreling straight into another villain was enough to make his chest tighten.
“Fuck.” Bakugo hissed, throwing another explosion at the villain trying to flank Kirishima. The guy went flying, slamming into the wall, but Bakugo barely noticed. His eyes were glued to Kirishima, who was now throwing punches like he’d been born to do it, his body a perfect blend of power and precision.
He wasn’t just impressed, he was overwhelmed. This was the same idiot who used to call him bro in high school, who once cried because Bakugo had made him eat spicy ramen too fast. And now? Now he was holding up a fucking building with his bare hands, and Bakugo was trying not to get hard about it.
Kirishima turned, his red eyes catching Bakugo’s for just a second, and his grin was so bright it cut through the dust and smoke like sunlight. “You good?”
Bakugo’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He stood there, staring at the guy he was absolutely, 100% domed for, his heart hammering in his chest.
“I’m fine!” He shouted back, his voice cracking just a little, and he immediately wanted to punch himself in the face.
Kirishima laughed, the sound carrying over the noise, and Bakugo swore it made the building groan even louder.
This was insane. He was insane. But as he blasted another villain out of the way and watched Kirishima sprint toward the next danger, muscles flexing and hair flying, Bakugo thought, Yeah. I’m doomed.
The battle raged on, though most of the villains were either knocked out or scrambling to retreat. The building creaked ominously as firefighters and rescue teams worked frantically below, clearing out the last of the civilians. Outside, Nejire was floating, blasting down waves of energy to stop debris from crushing anyone unlucky enough to be near the collapsing structure. Camie was a little further away, muttering something obnoxious into her comms about how her illusions were keeping the crowd calm.
But none of that registered for Bakugo.
All he could see, all he could see, was Kirishima.
Kirishima, soaked in sweat, his chest glowing in a way that should’ve been illegal. Kirishima, casually lifting and tossing a massive chunk of metal alloy like it was nothing, making it easier for the firefighters to clear the area. Kirishima, whose stupid hair was sticking to his stupid forehead, making him look like a goddamn dream in the middle of chaos.
Bakugo blew another piece of rubble out of his way, his gaze flicking back to Kirishima as the redhead paused to wipe the sweat off his brow. His chest was heaving, his hardened arms flexing as he readied himself to grab another impossibly heavy piece of debris. And fuck, Bakugo was gone.
It wasn’t enough to be dating this guy for almost two years now. Not even close. He needed to marry him. Like, right now. Put a ring on his finger and kiss him stupid in the middle of this wreckage. Hell, Bakugo was ready to take Kirishima’s last name if it meant keeping him close forever. Eijiro Bakugo? Nah, Katsuki Kirishima. Yeah, that sounded right. Perfect, even.
Bakugo shook his head, growling under his breath as he blasted another villain trying to crawl away. This was not the time for a mental breakdown over how stupidly in love he was, but fuck, he couldn’t help it.
He watched as Kirishima grabbed the last massive piece of rubble, his muscles straining as he carried it toward the firefighters. His smile was still there, even through the sweat and grime, as he nodded to one of the rescue workers before tossing the metal slab to the side with ease.
Bakugo’s heart felt like it was trying to punch its way out of his chest. This guy - his guy! - was so unfairly hot it made him dizzy. The way he moved, the way he handled himself, the way he cared so deeply and worked so tirelessly for everyone around him, it was all too much.
“I need to marry him.”
“What was that?” Camie called over the comms, her voice carrying that irritating lilt that made him want to rip the earpiece out.
“Shut the hell up, Camie.” He snapped, blowing another chunk of debris into smithereens as he stalked toward Kirishima.
Kirishima turned just as Bakugo approached, his grin bright despite the exhaustion written all over his face. “Area’s almost clear. What’s next?”
Bakugo stopped dead in his tracks, his brain short-circuiting at the sight of Kirishima standing there, chest rising and falling, hair falling loose around his face, and that damn smile.
What was next? Marriage. A ring. Forever. That’s what was next.
Bakugo opened his mouth, but no words came out. For the first time in his life, he was completely speechless.
“Katsuki?” Kirishima tilted his head, his brow furrowing as he stepped closer, concern written all over his face. “You good?”
Bakugo’s mouth opened before his brain could catch up. “I fucking love you.”
The words came out sharp and certain, as natural as breathing. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, not even close, it was probably the five hundredth by now, but it still hit the same way every single time. He watched, dumbfounded as always, as Kirishima’s cheeks flushed bright red, that stupidly charming smile faltering just enough to reveal how much those words still got to him.
Bakugo loved him so much it felt unbearable sometimes. Every laugh, every blush, every tiny reaction just added fuel to the fire burning in his chest. He loved Kirishima more than he could put into words, more than explosions and hero work and anything else he’d ever cared about in his life.
“I love you too.” Kirishima whispered, impossibly sweet. He said it with so much gentleness, so much affection, that it made Bakugo’s knees feel like they might give out.
“Fuck.”
To hell with the battle. To hell with the villains still being loaded into police vans. To hell with the pro-heroes watching from the sidelines, the journalists snapping pictures, and the civilians standing slack-jawed. None of it mattered.
He grabbed Kirishima by the hip, yanking him forward, and kissed him right there, in front of everyone.
It wasn’t some soft, tentative thing. It was a kiss meant to declare something, to stake a claim, to let the entire goddamn world know that this stupidly gorgeous, amazing, sweet, caring man was his. His to love, his to kiss, his to hold forever.
Kirishima didn’t hesitate for even a second. His hands gripped Bakugo’s waist, pulling him closer, his lips moving against Bakugo’s like he didn’t care about the growing crowd or the dozens of camera flashes. His laugh melted into the kiss, bright and giddy, and it sent a thrill straight through Bakugo’s chest.
When they finally broke apart, Kirishima’s face was bright red, his hair sticking messily to his forehead, but he was grinning so wide, so brightly, that it looked like he was trying to outshine the streetlights. Bakugo’s chest swelled at the sight, his fingers still curled in Kirishima’s arms like he didn’t want to let him go.
And then, because apparently chaos wasn’t chaotic enough already, one journalist decided to take their life into their hands.
A microphone was suddenly thrust in front of Bakugo’s face, the reporter bold, or crazy, enough to ask, “What do you have to say about that kiss, Dynamight?”
Bakugo could’ve ignored it, could’ve barked out an angry “No comment” and stormed off. But that wasn’t his style. Instead, he smirked smugly, his arm sliding down to lace his fingers with Kirishima’s.
“What do I have to say?” He repeated, leaning slightly toward the mic, making sure every single word was heard. “Red Riot is a fucking great kisser.”
The crowd erupted. Journalists yelled questions, cameras flashed like fireworks.
Kirishima, still holding Bakugo’s hand, turned an impossible shade of red. “Katsuki,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as he tugged him toward the exit, his grin both embarrassed and delighted.
“Relax, Red,” Bakugo said, letting himself be pulled along. “They were gonna make a big deal out of it anyway. Might as well give ‘em something to write about.”
Kirishima laughed softly, squeezing his hand as they disappeared into the night, away from the chaos of cameras and questions.
When they finally made it home, their uniforms were caked with dust, the faint scent of smoke clinging stubbornly to the fabric. Kirishima kicked the door shut behind them, the sound echoing in the quiet apartment. Bakugo let out a tired sigh, sinking heavily onto the couch like it was the only thing holding him together. Without hesitation, he grabbed Kirishima’s wrist and tugged him down, their bodies settling into a comfortable sprawl like many times before.
Bakugo turned his head to look at him, and simply said, “I want to take your last name.” The weight of the words filling the space between them. “I want to kiss you every single day of my life. I want to kiss you in every other life, too, every reincarnation, no matter what comes next.”
The moment Bakugo’s words left his lips, anticipation coiled around his ribs like a vice. He had never said anything like that before, never been so vulnerable, so exposed, and yet, Kirishima was there, smiling at him.
“You’re really going for it, huh?” Kirishima teased lightly as he leaned closer, his hand coming up to cradle Bakugo’s jaw, his thumb brushing over his skin.
Bakugo huffed out a laugh, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk. “Yeah, I’m going for it. You gonna answer me or just stare at me all night?”
Kirishima laughed. “Yes.” His lips hovered over Bakugo’s for a moment before he finally closed the distance, kissing him deeply, letting every ounce of love and devotion pour into that single moment.
When they pulled apart, just enough to catch their breath, Kirishima’s voice was certain against Bakugo’s lips. “Let’s do it. All of it. Forever.”
And Bakugo kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him a little bit more, knowing there was never going to be anything else he’d want more than this.