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Kirishima bites his lips.
he bites his lips while doing anything.
while concentrated.
while spacing out.
while nervous.
while focusing on plotting a battle's strategy.
while turned on.
while being fucked senseless.
while fucking someone senseless.
Bakugou notices, he had noticed a long time ago, three years to be exact, and it pisses him off.
They lay in Bakugou's bed, resting from sparring earlier, it's a free day, and sunset plays with their features.
You'd expect Kirishima to be a ball of infinite overflowing energy, or something like that given the way he is, but there's nothing like an infinite source of energy in this planet, and even the strongest battery has to be recharged once in awhile. So here he is, sprawled across the bed, limbs tangling with Bakugou's, using his arm as a pillow and breathing evenly into his shoulder. Bakugou's hand traces light patterns over Kirishima's left arm, which is lazily put over his side on a half-assed hug, his eyes dart over Kirishima's face, hair down from the shower, cascading from his scalp to the pillow, tickling Bakugou's arm.
His scar looks so tiny at times, most of the time unnoticed, or confused with a weird long eyelash. But now that his eyes are closed, face melted into a relaxed state, the scar seems to stretch from his eyelashes to the space under his brow, it's fine and almost invisible, but it's there.
Bakugou snorts at how his was a very dumb way to get a scar, he hurt himself with his own quirk in sleepy grogginess.
Stupid.
He bets Kirishima fucking cried when he cut his face, he must have been a really snotty kid.
Or maybe he wasn't, maybe he hissed in pain, yes, but probably went to his parent's room immediately to show his newfound blossoming quirk to his now worried mother, treating the small wound and vending his eye.
No, he would stick to the snotty crybaby child thought.
Kirishima's nose was all sharp angles, just like his teeth, just like his jaw. Usually tensing while thinking too hard of something, like the idiot he is, moving the little muscles at the corners of his eyes in every clench, but now it's hanging loose, directing his gaze to his partly open mouth. Little deep breaths come in and out from his lips, revealing on his peaceful sleep.
Bakugou shifts a little, his lips were dry, showing the little bits of skin popping out from the constant pressure on them.
Kirishima then, shifts a little too, mumbling something incomprehensible, tightening his arm around Bakugou's waist, and softly nibbling at his lip
this fucker even bites his lips in his sleep.
When Kirishima wakes up, though, he gives Bakugou (who had been staring this whole time, 2 hours straight without sleeping not even a little) a crooked smile, and buries his face on his bicep, rubbing the grogginess away from his eyes. Bakugou slightly growls, but doesn't react furthermore from that, he's still in zen mode, not even his trademark bitch scowl is glued to his face, his eyes following Kirishima's movements like a hypnosis clock, his shoulders heaving with strong breathing, product of his actions on his still too tired body.
It's only when Kirishima’s face returns to his original place, red eyes now staring into orange ones, and gives him a lopsided smile interrupted by a slight nibble, that Bakugou finally frowns, his right arm running over Kirishima's left arm to his face, holding his cheek
''you should stop doing that,'' Bakugou mumbles, voice strained from the lack of use. He clears his throat and tries again ''your lips are going to fall off, ass'' an angrier tone, Vintage Bakugou.
Kirishima's brow twitches on confusion, but his expression quickly morphs into mischief, paying no mind to his equally strained groggy voice as he speaks up, smile widening ''you like it though'’
He nuzzles into Bakugou's palm and bicep, just after being responded with a deep scowl attached to a expression of total disgust.
''like I'd like putting my mouth on such a raspy surface''
''you've never stopped kissing me''
''it's gross and shows the fucking insecure prick that you are''
''it turns you on''
''fuck you''
''didn't you do that like, this morning?''
Bakugou groans as he dives his hand into Kirishima's stomach and makes a little explosion come from his hand. Kirishima twitches, quirk protecting him, but remains still on his place.
Kirishima's hand slowly paces over Bakugou's back, up and down, up and down, meant to soothe, or just to wake his numb arm up, it calms Bakugou a little either way, goosebumps spreading in his skin at the ghost-like touch.
''I love you,'' Kirishima finally whispers, biting at his lip again, eyes closing, noon almost over, giving the moon it's rightful place on the sky.
Kirishima might have converted Bakugou into a softie, molding his personality like dough to his own benefit, making him bend and shake like a weak leaf in the wind, shatter like glass impacting on the ground, but you should swear to god, that Bakugou doesn't feel anything like weakness when he says
''I love you too.''