Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13330401.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      僕のヒーローアカデミア_|_Boku_no_Hero_Academia_|_My_Hero_Academia
  Relationship:
      Kirishima_Eijirou/Midoriya_Izuku
  Character:
      Kirishima_Eijirou, Midoriya_Izuku, Bakugou_Katsuki
  Additional Tags:
      Pining, Unrequited_Love, Hurt/Comfort, Manga_Spoilers, post_chapter_163,
      Making_Out, Oral_Fixation, Danger_Kink, mild_blood_play, Deepthroating,
      Sex_Toys, Anal_Sex, inappropriate_use_of_quirk, First_Time, One-sided
      kiribaku_-_Freeform, One-sided_bakudeku
  Series:
      Part 1 of gazing_outward_and_inward
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-01-10 Words: 7429
****** Gazing Outward ******
by clairesail
Summary
     Kirishima remembers a quote he once read in a book.
     'Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking
     outward together in the same direction.'
      
     And as he watches Bakugou leave, he knows Midoriya's looking in the
     same direction, together with him.
Notes
     Quote by Antoine de Saint-Exupery
     Inspired in part by these_beautiful_fanarts drawn_by_HamletMachine!
See the end of the work for more notes
Kirishima sits in bed, his back against the wall, waiting for sleep to find
him, and he thinks.
Thinks of his worthlessness. Thinks of his loneliness.
He's been staring at his wall in the dark for the past he doesn't even know how
long, staring at the headband tacked to the wall with the kanji for 'you can do
it!' printed in bold black strokes. Instead of feeling fearless, as he normally
does when he looks at it, he feels defeated.
He did do it. He survived, but he doesn't feel whole, not even close. He knows
he's not the only one.
When the four of them came back from their internships, they were greeted by
all their classmates at once, their concerned lamentations like a soothing
balm. It was nice to know they cared, but it was also suffocating. Kirishima
wasn't ready to deal with their questions, wasn't ready to explain what had
happened back there, to deal with his own mortality, his own failures.
All four of them now held new scars, nicks and cuts on not their bodies but
their hearts, their spirits battered from a mission that was successful but
didn't feel like it was. Sir Nighteye was dead, Toogata-senpai lost his quirk
and his mentor, the little girl they set out to save lies in a hospital bed,
comatose. Fatgum, Kirishima and Amajiki-senpai all came too close to death, and
the girls didn't have it any easier. The only reason Midoriya was able to
defeat Overhaul and live was by sheer miracle, and in the end even the heroes
best efforts were thwarted by the League of Villains.
Yeah, they won, but it could hardly be called a victory worth celebrating.
And Kirishima isn't the kind of person to push others away, but tonight none of
his classmates' attempts to cheer them up helped. The only one he thinks might
have been able to scratch the surface, to have nails hard enough to start to
peel back his armor, couldn't even say a single word to him. Bakugou, who he
thought he was growing close to, whose words helped him push through the pain,
had left as soon as his eyes had landed on him.
Kirishima hasn't felt this low since middle school. And just when he was
starting to think big of himself...
A knock sounds at his door, what sounds like a single rap of a single knuckle
against the wood, so soft that if there had been any other noise on the floor
Kirishima is sure he would have missed it. He stares at the door for a moment,
not sure if he imagined it or if it was real. Could it be Bakugou, finally
caring? But no, Bakugou went to bed long ago...
Kirishima gets off his bed and goes to the door, opening it a crack. Midoriya
is standing there, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down the hall, and
when he notices Kirishima he jerks his head forward and gives a nervous smile.
He speaks just above a whisper, so his voice doesn't carry in the hallway.
“Hey, Kirishima, I wanted to check on you... Are you... okay?”
Kirishima blinks. Is he okay? No, truthfully he isn't. He said as much to Mina
earlier, so he knows he can't lie now, even if he wanted to. “I'm... fine for
now.” He says at length, ending the sentence with a half-hearted grin.
Midoriya casts his eyes down, looking... disappointed? “Oh, because... You know
you don't have to keep it inside, right?” He looks up then, meeting Kirishima's
eyes. “We were both there, we can... let it out with each other. I mean, if you
want.”
For once, Kirishima would be content to stew in his own misery, but something
tells him Midoriya didn't just come to his door for his sake. So he opens the
door wider, stepping out of the way to motion him in. Midoriya enters, eyes
darting around in the dark, and Kirishima directs him to step over his set of
weights on the floor and sits him down on his bed. He doesn't turn on any
lights; there's enough moonlight coming in from his window, which has its
curtains thrown back. When he sits beside him, he can see how nervous Midoriya
is, his fingers entwined with each other, rubbing his palms together in nervous
habit.
They don't speak for several moments, and it's so quiet in the room Kirishima
can hear himself swallow.
“I was supposed to die.” Midoriya says finally, his voice seeming louder in the
silence. “Sir Nighteye saw it, he saw both of us die.” He licks his lips. “But
I'm still here.”
Kirishima doesn't know what to say to that. How can he comfort him? To know
that you were supposed to die, but didn't, what could he possibly say that
would make him feel better?
“I'm glad.” He whispers, placing a hand on Midoriya's shoulder. “I'm glad you
didn't die.”
“And Toogata-senpai,” Midoriya continues, “I don't know how he can keep going.
If I lost my quirk-” He cuts himself off, bending over and burying his hands in
his face, shoulders shaking with a voiceless sob.
The time passes, with Kirishima rubbing his palm in slow circles over
Midoriya's back. He's careful to give him the space to feel, not to interrupt
him or tell him to stop crying. Holding back one's emotions isn't manly at all.
Kirishima wishes he could live up to that ideal.
Eventually, Midoriya sits back up, sniffling and scrubbing his eyes with the
back of his hand.
“You said...” He begins, voice thick from crying, “I heard you tell Ashido
that... you had a long way to go?”
Kirishima waves him off. “That's – it's about something else. From before U.A.”
Midoriya knits his brows together. “You two knew each other before U.A.?”
“Yeah, we went to the same middle school. Like you and Bakugou.”
A short, awkward chuckle escapes Midoriya and he scratches at the nape of his
neck again, looking away. “I doubt you and Ashido... I doubt it's anything like
me and Kacchan.”
“Oh – well, yeah, probably not. Bakugou is...” He struggles with how to finish
it, eventually just dropping it with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Yeah. Anyway, um, thank you for letting me get that off my chest. You're a...
really good friend, Kirishima.”
Heart pounding in his ears so loud he's sure the whole floor can hear it,
Kirishima drops his hand from Midoriya's shoulder to place it over his scarred
one. “Anytime. I feel like we've gotten closer since we started our
internships. I like it.” Midoriya drags his gaze down to their hands.
Kirishima's heart clenches. “And you're right, we should support each other
through this. I'm not alright, and neither are you, but we can get there
together, yeah?”
Midoriya exhales, looks up. His breath smells like mint – his toothpaste.
“Yeah.”
“We gotta put on a brave face for everyone else, but we can – we can be
ourselves when it's just us.”
Midoriya's breath is coming faster, and he nods. “Right.”
Kirishima blushes, and he glances down to where Midoriya's hand is warm
underneath his, and he steels himself for rejection. But maybe, just maybe, he
wants this too? Maybe the meaning behind the glances Midoriya has shot his way,
is the same as the ones Kirishima has given back? Maybe there can be something
more than friendship between them? Maybe he can soothe the vacant ache in his
chest, and Kirishima can do the same for him?
He laces their fingers together, rubbing his thumb over the ridges of the scars
that litter Midoriya's hand, feels the other boy tense under his attention.
“So, it's late,” He begins, fearing he's crossed a line. “Unless you want to
talk some more?”
Midoriya shakes his head quickly, not daring to look Kirishima in the eye. “No,
we- we should go to sleep anyway.”
“Yeah.”
He escorts him to his door, even though it's only a few steps away, and watches
him as he walks down the hall to the elevator. When Midoriya is about half-way
there he glances back, his face red when he sees Kirishima still watching.
Something shifts between the two of them.
 
**
 
It becomes a routine for them.
It's not always Midoriya going to Kirishima's room. Sometimes it's the other
way around, but every night they eventually end up together – sitting in the
dark, or a dimly lit dorm room – talking about everything that troubles them or
nothing at all. Kirishima feels safe with him, feels he can tell him things
he's never told anyone, and he does.
He shares his insecurities for the first time since middle school, and it
honestly feels good not to have to carry that burden all by himself. Midoriya
is, as expected, supportive and encouraging, and as he rambles away one night
about how even top heroes have fears and failures, his curls bouncing with his
jittery motions, Kirishima thinks: Yeah, I could love someone like this.
It's an easy thing.
“You know, you were one of the first people to talk to me at U.A.” Midoriya
says one night, when they're both sitting on Kirishima's bed and have grown
sleepy.
Kirishima perks up, trying to remember the first time he spoke to him.
“Really?”
“Really! I always remember how nice you were...” He trails off, blushing and
glancing away as if embarrassed about the memory.
“You know,” Kirishima says, holding up a finger, “now that you point it out,
you were the first person to ever tell me you thought my quirk was cool!”
The other boy nods excitedly, expression sincere. “It really is cool! You can
do so much with it!” Kirishima feels his face heat up and he hides it in his
hands.
“S-stop!”
“No, I mean it!” He continues. “And your personality is – well, there's no way
you won't be a popular hero! In the Top 10, even!”
Kirishima shoves him away, then, just a gentle push on the shoulder as Midoriya
giggles at him. Fucking giggles. His heart can't take it. “You're too nice,
Midoriya!” Hands grab his where they're still on Midoriya's shoulders, squeeze
ever so slightly.
“It's true though!” He says with an earnest smile, freckles dusted over with
pink. They're still holding hands, and Midoriya's eyes flicker down to fixate
on a spot below, at somewhere between his nose and chin, at – oh.
Breath hitching, Kirishima leans forward, slowly at first, careful to watch for
any signs of discomfort from the other along the way, until his lips brush
against Midoriya's. Only then does he allow his eyes to close, allows himself
to feel it, to think of nothing but those soft, pink lips.
It feels nice. Warm, a little moist from where Midoriya licked them earlier,
his lips malleable against his own. He moves unsure at first, nervous still
he'll be rejected, not even really knowing how to kiss as it's his first time.
But when he feels the hot puff of breath against his face as Midoriya gasps,
the little “ah” he gives, the fingers still on his hands linking with his – the
doubts melt away.
He presses deeper, shifting on the bed to be closer, until their knees touch
and thighs slot between each other, the bare skin of his calves prickling into
goosebumps where it rubs against the other's. It's simultaneously too much and
not enough contact, so Kirishima untangles one of his hands to thread it
through Midoriya's curly hair, tugging him even closer.
They spend so long like that that they lose track of time, exchanging chaste
kisses and uncertain touches, the only noise in Kirishima's bedroom the wet
smacking sounds of their mouths exploring each other. When Kirishima finally
has to come up for air, he pulls back with reluctance, breathing hard and face
flushed. Midoriya's pinker, too, his lips shiny with spit – Kirishima's spit.
The knowledge makes him gnaw on his bottom lip, body wracking with a shudder.
He made him look like that. And now Midoriya is looking at him with his heart
on his sleeve, and it's so obvious Kirishima doesn't need him to say it, but he
does anyway:
“I like you.” He says.
Kirishima huffs a laugh, pulling Midoriya close to him again. “I like you,
too.” He says with a grin, and presses his mouth roughly against Midoriya's,
digging a sharp tooth into his bottom lip until his jaw drops open in a gasp of
pain or pleasure – Kirishima isn't entirely sure – and takes the opportunity to
slip his tongue inside.
Midoriya reacts enthusiastically by wrapping his arms around Kirishima's neck,
climbing into his lap until their bodies are flush, skin hot and even hotter
where their groins rub together.
Something nags at the back of Kirishima's mind at this, some kind of irritating
conscience (un)helpfully pointing out that maybe this is moving too fast and
with a groan he places his hands on Midoriya's jaw and shoulder, and pushes
away. They're definitely too worked up, but the dejected expression on
Midoriya's face brings instant regret, and he wants to let him take it all from
him. Wants to let him take everything.
“It's getting late.” Kirishima says between pants for air. He's trying to clear
his head, but every breath is filled with Midoriya's sweet taste and clean
scent, every subtle shift makes his skin erupt in flames.
Midoriya nods, a tremor shaking through his whole body, but he makes no move to
get off, his hands only gripping Kirishima harder as he leans in for another
kiss.
Something shifts between the two of them.
 
**
 
It becomes a routine for them.
They don't always make out, some nights passing only with the sound of
Midoriya's earnest rambling, or with the pair of them simply holding hands and
gazing into each other's eyes until they eventually fall asleep (for Midoriya
to wake up and begrudgingly walk back to his room, fist rubbing against bleary
eyes). But when they do spend the time in each other's arms, it never feels
like enough. Kirishima always wants more, and Midoriya is no more eager to pull
away when it's time for sleep.
Tonight Midoriya's fingers are in his mouth, pressing down on the flat of
Kirishima's tongue, his eyes flitting over the sharp points of his teeth. He's
fascinated by them, Kirishima's discovered, he's fascinated by everything about
him, and it warms Kirishima's heart, fills his soul up with a sort of
contentment he's never felt before. Someone he's shared all his insecurities
with, who's seen him at his weakest, finds him worth it. And Kirishima thinks:
Yeah, I definitely love him.
Loving Midoriya, and being loved by him, are easy things.
The fingers in his mouth slip, snagging on one of the points. Midoriya's breath
catches and he pulls his finger back, a small drop of blood welling at the tip,
and he sticks the digit in his own mouth to suck it down. Kirishima's on fire.
“Careful, they're sharp.” He warns, breath coming out in a rush. His jaw is
aching from being held open so long, and he brings his hand up to wipe away the
drool that's spilled down his chin. Among many other things, Kirishima's
discovered Midoriya has... unusual interests, but he's also discovered he
doesn't mind indulging him in the least. When he watches how Midoriya's pupils
blow wide, how his freckles cover in red, the fire in Kirishima's heart ends up
between his legs, and he really, really doesn't mind.
Midoriya's lips twist in a smile around his finger, and he pulls it free with a
wet pop. But the smile vanishes then, brows knitting together in a frown.
“Kirishima-kun...”
“Hmm?” He brings his hands to rest on the boy's waist.
“We've... um. I want to – I, uh.”
“What is it?” Kirishima asks in a gentle tone.
His face blossoms forehead to chin in a blush, and his voice is muffled as he
hides himself in Kirishima's shoulder. “It's embarrassing.”
“Hey, hey.” Kirishima takes a hand to his chin, tipping his face back towards
him. “It's me. You can tell me.”
“B-but...”
“I bet I'll like it, even!” He smiles reassuringly.
Midoriya exhales, shoulders drooping with it, and he looks at Kirishima with
steely resolve. “If it's okay with you, I want to try... I want to taste you-”
And he reaches a hand out and places it over the bulge in Kirishima's shorts.
“-here.”
Kirishima blinks, and then he's nodding. “Yes, yeah. Yeah! Yeah, okay.” His
shorts and underwear are off within the next second before he can think too
much of it, and he leans back on the bed, shivering under Midoriya's intense
gaze, fighting the urge to cover himself back up. He's pretty sure he's going
to like this.
Midoriya stares, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. He slides off the
bed to kneel on the floor, tugging Kirishima so he scoots to the end of the
bed. Vibrating with excitement, Kirishima fists the sheets.
Round, green eyes blink up at him, mouth dropping to allow his tongue to wet
his lips, and then without warning Midoriya takes the head of Kirishima's cock
in his mouth, tongue swiping over the slit and tasting the precum that beaded
there.
The moan Kirishima lets out is raw and unrestrained, and it's only after he
thinks to muffle himself with the back of his hand, eyes darting to the wall he
shares with Bakugou and worry over whether he can hear making his heart race.
Midoriya's eyes meet his, no longer looking scared, and with one hand he pulls
Kirishima's arm away from his mouth. He doesn't say it – his mouth occupied
where it's stretched around Kirishima's girth – but Kirishima reads it in his
gaze: Don't hide.
With a gasp his hips jerk and he tries to fit more inside, but Midoriya's grip
is sure and tight, pining his hips down, holding him steady and only allowing
just the tip in. Achingly slow, he begins to slide forward, taking more and
more of Kirishima's length in and enveloping it in wet heat. It's unlike
anything Kirishima's done to himself, and it's not just the sensations, either.
How Midoriya looks, with hollowed cheeks and clouded eyes, it's better than
anything he could conjure up in his head.
Midoriya glances up from beneath his dark lashes, and Kirishima threads his
fingers through his curly locks, digging nails into his scalp when he feels the
flat of his tongue dragging along the underside of his cock as he takes in more
of him. He stops half-way down, blinking, and Kirishima whines.
“Please, Midoriya...” He presses on the back of his head gently, until Midoriya
relents and takes him the rest of the way in, until the tip reaches the back of
his throat and he can't fit anymore. His warm, calloused hands wrap around the
base to cover the parts he can't reach with his mouth, and he begins to move.
He bobs up and down, pulling puffs and moans from Kirishima, his expression
tense with concentration.
“You're doing good.” Kirishima says, bringing his thumb to rub away the worry
line between Midoriya's brows, trying to get him to relax. “So, so good. P-
please keep going.”
Midoriya tries to take more of him in, gagging, and the vibrations, the soft
hum that runs through his dick is almost too much. He clenches the fingers in
Midoriya's hair, stilling him. “Not so fast. I almost came.”
He pops off, frowning at Kirishima. “Isn't that the point?”
Kirishima blinks. “Um, yeah, but.”
Midoriya's eyes shine – with desire, with eagerness – and he's standing then,
going over to Kirishima's desk where it's pushed against the wall. “I have an
idea...” He mumbles, and smoothing his hands along the edge of the desk, he
scrapes a critical eye over it, then glances at Kirishima.
“Can you stand for me?”
Kirishima does so, coming over to where Midoriya sits on the desk, tucking his
legs up and laying on his back. He's about to ask what he's doing, when
Midoriya scoots until his head falls over the side of the table, his mass of
curls hanging down, and he looks at Kirishima.
Oh. Kirishima knows where this is going.
“I saw this in a... video once.” A porno, Kirishima fills in with a smirk.
“You'll be able to, uh, fit more inside?”
“Won't you choke?”
Midoriya shakes his head. “No! Or, not much, I think. I've... practiced.”
He imagines him practicing, imagines Midoriya hanging his head off the side of
his bed, shoving things down his throat and trying not to gag on it, doing it
over and over again until the reflex is dampened. Kirishima's cock weeps.
He approaches, hard and throbbing, his cock now with a sheen of saliva coating
it. He slips it back into Midoriya's open and waiting mouth, and marvels at how
much easier it is this way. It goes in smooth and slick, and when he reaches
the throat there's no backstop, no resistance. He presses deeper, groaning when
he feels the head push past the entrance to Midoriya's throat. Watches, eyes
lidded with want, as the throat bulges out.
He goes so deep until his pubic hairs tickle Midoriya's chin and he can feel
his balls sliding over his nose, entranced as his gaze focuses on how the boy's
throat swells and deflates as he rocks in and out. Kirishima hunches over him
and braces his hands on the table, thrusting his hips in and out gently at
first, until he feels Midoriya cup his ass. Squeezing, Midoriya pushes on his
behind to drive him in farther, farther inside that wet heat, that tight muscle
constricting and gripping his cock just right.
Moaning, Kirishima palms at Midoriya's throat, feeling it bulge out under his
touch, and he strokes up and down on it in time with his thrusts, feels the
muscle swell under the taut smooth skin. Midoriya starts to choke then, lips
sputtering with spit and throat clenching around his cock deliciously, and
fearing he can't breathe, Kirishima pulls out.
Midoriya gasps for breath, face read and tears streaming down his temples to
wet his hair.
“Are you okay?” Kirishima asks and trails a thumb across his puffy lips to wipe
up the saliva. He pushes the thumb past Midoriya's lips and they close around
it, sucking and swirling on it. “Fuck...”
“I'm okay.” He answers after he's pushed the thumb out, and he swiftly grips
Kirishima by the hips again, taking him inside once more.
He moans around the cock lewdly, and the vibrations course up and down
Kirishima's shaft. It's too intense, too much for him to handle and it sends
him over the edge. His balls draw up and the spark that was building erupts,
shooting through his groin, through his cock. It starts with a quiver at the
base of his spine, then shoots up, morphing into ripples head-to-toe.
With drawn-out wail that breaks into a sigh, he buries himself to the hilt,
cock twitching in an almost unbearable pleasure it borders on pain. Every
muscle in his body seizes as he feels his load pour out and he squeezes his
eyes shut, feels the hands on his hips slapping at him, the throat muscles
spasming and swallowing around his girth.
As soon as the tremors cease he's pushed away, Midoriya coming to sit up on the
desk with a face so red it's nearly purple. He coughs into his fist, doubling
over, making gagging and retching noises for several moments.
“Oh damn!” Kirishima panics, waving his arms around uselessly as he tries to
think of a way to help. For a second he's worried Midoriya is about to puke,
but then he catches his breath, inhaling deeply several times before he flashes
a smile at Kirishima.
“Was that too much?” Kirishima asks in a small voice, ashamed at his behavior,
at how he lost control at the end. But Midoriya shakes his head.
“No, that was... I liked it. I liked- how you felt.”
Kirishima sighs in relief. “Good, good. Um,” He points down at the tent in
Midoriya's pants. “Do you think I can I blow you now? I don't know if I can
take you all the way like that though.” He blushes, scratching his cheek. “I
haven't really practiced. Not for blow jobs, that is. Plus with my teeth, I'll
have to be extra careful.”
Midoriya licks his lips, eyes darting to his mouth. “Your teeth, huh. I like
your teeth.”
Kirishima smiles wide, showing them off. “Thanks, man! Um...”
“Um,” Midoriya gives a breathy laugh. “Kirishima-kun, can I ask something
strange from you again?”
“Of course. Anything.”
Midoriya huffs a laugh again, glancing down as he rubs at the back of his neck.
“You really shouldn't say that...”
“I mean it though! Is it about my teeth?”
“Yeah...”
“It's fine, Midoriya. Whatever it is, you can do it.”
So Midoriya goes to the bed, maneuvering Kirishima to lay on his back, and he
kneels over him and takes his dick out of his pants. He's hard, a line of
precum stringing from his slit to his underwear, and with the tip he nudges at
Kirishima's lips. He drops his mouth obediently, licking a the head as he does,
but Midoriya retracts himself.
“Wait, just... hold still?”
“Oh, sorry.”
Midoriya's mouth trembles with a nervous smile as he pushes his cock back past
Kirishima's lips, but not past his teeth. He rubs the head of his cock along
them, shoving Kirishima's upper lip up to expose the pink of his gums before
moving to do the same with his bottom row. As he moves them back and forth, he
gives his cock a few slow strokes, sighing.
“I love your teeth,” He mumbles, voice monotone and eyes glazed over as if in a
trance. “They're so powerful, like the rest of you. You're so strong,
Kirishima. You could hurt me so easily, but you don't.”
Then he nudges his cock past his teeth and holds it there. “Close your teeth
around me, Kirishima.”
Kirishima's eyes widen, saying everything he needs to without words.
“Don't bite,” Midoriya explains, “but close them a little.” Kirishima slowly
closes his jaw until he feels the tips of his fangs touch Midoriya's dick, then
halts. “Yes,” Midoriya moans in reverence, pushing his sweat-dampened locks out
of his face, “like that. Hold me there. Lick me – don't use your lips. Only
your teeth and your tongue.”
Kirishima laps at him, alternating between dragging the thick of his tongue
along his length and gently nipping at his cock, his heart clenching in fear
each time, fear that he's done so too hard. But the fear only seems to drive
Midoriya wilder, as each nibble, each touch of a sharp point pulls a whimper
out of him.
Finally, it's too much, and Midoriya pulls free, jerking himself frantically
over Kirishima's face. He comes seconds later with a shout, splattering pearly
white over Kirishima's teeth and lips and chin. Fingers dart down to rub the
fluid across his teeth, and Kirishima closes his lips around them, swallowing
it down.
A muffled bang on the wall distracts them from their cool down and they freeze,
motionless as they stare at the wall separating Kirishima's dorm room from
Bakugou's dorm room.
Neither say anything for several long moments, waiting to see if there's
anything else, and when Kirishima looks back over to where Midoriya is still
perched over him, he's laughing behind his hand.
“Dude, do you think he heard you?”
Midoriya shrugs, his laughter gone. “Who cares? If Kacchan wants us to stop, he
should come over here and make us...”
He blushes then, glancing down at Kirishima as though trying to gauge his
reaction.
Kirishima sucks in a breath. He wouldn't be opposed to that, if he's being
honest with himself.
But to be worthy of not only Midoriya's affection, but Bakugou's as well? In
his dreams.
 
**
 
Kirishima remembers a quote he once read in a book.
'Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together
in the same direction.'
 
He sees Midoriya tense up, eyes aglitter in the harsh overhead lights of the
training room, and he follows his gaze to where it's fixed.
Bakugou.
Standing there in a black tank-top too tight, in training pants that sag just a
little too much, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm. His
crimson eyes meet Kirishima's first, expression neutral, before flickering over
to a spot past his shoulder – looking at Midoriya, no doubt. They narrow, mouth
twisting in a grimace, lips pulling back over his teeth like he's ripe to say
something before he's suddenly turning away, showing the pair of them his back.
Kirishima loves Midoriya, he's sure of it. He knows he's young, knows he has a
lifetime ahead of him, but right now he wants to spend the rest of it with
Midoriya. That's love, right? What else could it be?
And as he watches Bakugou leave, he knows Midoriya's looking in the same
direction, together with him.
 
**
 
“You have notes on everyone, huh?”
Kirishima turns the page in Midoriya's notebook and comes across Bakugou's page
– or rather, pages. There's more than one, more detail written in them than in
pretty much anyone else's profile. Details ranging from his fighting style to
the intricacies of how his quirk works to the size clothes he wears. It's all
recorded in a tightly-packed scrawl, hand-drawn diagrams and illustrations next
to important parts. It's impressive; a little obsessive, but still. If
Kirishima was more of a note-taker, he can't say he wouldn't have pages of
notes on Bakugou as well. As it is, everything he takes note of is in his head.
They're in Midoriya's bedroom this time, the boy having left out one of his
journals on his desk. It's well-worn with minor scorch marks along the edges
and spine, and when he flips the page again Midoriya snatches it out of his
hands.
“That's private!” He screeches, face bright red. He clutches it to his chest,
but when Kirishima raises a brow, perplexed, he relaxes a fraction. “S-sorry...
I- I'm really protective of my notebooks.”
Kirishima nods towards the bundle of papers in his arms. “Did Bakugou try to
blow that one up? It looks burned.”
“Um. Nevermind that. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have freaked out like that on you.”
He sits back on the bed and slouches. “I know you wouldn't make fun of me.”
“That's right.” Kirishima sidles next to him on the bed, placing a hand on his
knee. “Do you have a page about me?” Midoriya tenses, and he lowers his voice
in a rush of excitement: “Can I see it?”
“S-sure...”
He lays it on his lap, opening right to the page, as if he knew its place by
heart. It's filled with everything Kirishima expected: physical stats, quirk
stats, a rough drawing of his arm when it's hardened, some sketches of his hero
costume. There are other things, though, that he didn't expect: notes scribbled
on the sides about more personal things, about Midoriya's private thoughts.
Things like, that he suspects his hair is dyed (and a note next to that, in
what looks like fresher ink, confirming his pubic hair is black instead of
red), that he thinks Kirishima's hero costume will be popular with female fans,
a question of whether his baby teeth were also sharp (and another, newer note
beside it, where he says they were not).
In one corner there's a sketch of Kirishima's right eye in fine detail,
complete with the scar, and a bullet point beside it stating 'acquired at age
four'. There's things in there that Kirishima's told him, things that only
Midoriya would know, very very private things, and as his eyes drag over every
word and take in every drawing, he feels his cock filling and growing stiff.
In its own, weird – and very Midoriya – way, it's erotic. To know he's paid so
much attention to him, to know no little detail has escaped his keen eyes –
Kirishima suddenly wants him to know everything, inside and out. Wants there to
be pages and pages of notes on him in that notebook like there is for Bakugou.
“You have so much about me...” He says in awe, and Midoriya blushes again. “Is
there anything else you want to know?
Midoriya's eyes light up. “Actually, there is something about your quirk I've
been curious about.”
Kirishima faces him fully, slapping his hands on his lap. “Okay. Lay it on me.”
“With your uh, your dick? Can you harden that, too?”
Kirishima bites back a smirk and the accompanying joke he was about to make,
deciding instead to answer seriously. “Yeah, do you wanna see?”
“Yes!”
Kirishima pulls the waistband of his shorts over his crotch, then thinking
better of it, takes them off completely. Wouldn't want to shred them on
accident. He hears a small gasp, then Midoriya's knuckles are grazing along his
erection delicately. Kirishima grabs his wrist and stills him.
“I thought you wanted to see me harden it?”
With difficulty, Midoriya tears his eyes away to meet Kirishima's. “I got
carried away.” He says, sounding breathless. “Did my... did reading my
notes...?”
Kirishima nods, blushing. Midoriya gives a small smile, eyes flickering back
down. “Go on.”
“Okay, here goes.”
The skin of his cock goes ridged as he hardens it to slightly thicker than
normal skin. Midoriya hums.
“Can I touch it now?”
Kirishima lets go of his wrist. “Yeah, it's not hardened too much, this is
like... level one.”
Midoriya's fingers brush up and down the length, and the sensation is pleasant
but dulled, how he imagines wearing a condom would feel. “Can you go to level
ten?” He asks.
“Like, normal hardness?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure.” He hardens it further, and shaft thickens noticeably, the ridges grow
sharper and more pronounced. The head is craggy and rough, and when Midoriya
wraps his hand around it, he winces.
“Careful, I'll cut you!”
Midoriya pulls his hand back. His palm is stained red, blood smeared into the
creases originating from a shallow gash beneath his fingers. Kirishima sucks
air in between his teeth.
“Are you okay?”
But Midoriya doesn't look fazed in the slightest, his eyes still trailing over
Kirishima's groin, cataloging every change. “It doesn't hurt. Do you think you
could be jerked off in this state?”
“Haha, no.” Gingerly, he places Midoriya's hand in his own lap. “I can barely
feel anything like this.”
“What about Unbreakable? What does it look like?”
“I uh -” Kirishima frowns. “Actually, I don't know. I've never checked.”
They exchange looks, and Kirishima takes in a deep breath, makes his dick go
Unbreakable.
It's not pretty. Covered completely in rocky edges and jagged lines, it's
shaped more like a mound than a penis, the very tip coming to a sharp point.
But when Kirishima looks to Midoriya, he's salivating.
“Don't touch it,” He's sure to warn ahead of time now through clenched teeth,
his entire body stiff with concentration. But there's a glint in Midoriya's
eyes and he's not sure he heard him.
“It's so... dangerous...” Midoriya whispers, and he places a fingertip to the
point, withdrawing it immediately to stare at the fresh blood seeping forth. He
goes to pop it in his mouth but Kirishima grabs his wrist, and, eyes locked
with the other boy's, licks a stripe from palm to fingertip.
The bitter, coppery taste fills his mouth, and the soft “ohh” Midoriya releases
goes straight to his dick. With an exhale he stops using his quirk, his groin
softening to only regular, arousal-induced stiffness, and a gush of precum
nearly spurts out when he does so, seemingly having been unable to exit before.
Midoriya grips his shaft with his other hand, pumping him fast and hard until
he's doubling over, sucking down the bloody finger still in his mouth as he
comes all over the bed.
 
**
 
Midoriya's asshole stretches, pink and tight, around the dark red knot of the
dildo. Kirishima holds it there a beat, relishes in how the other squirms on
the bed and whines, cheeks and cock flushed a deep pink to match his rim.
He's spread out on the bed, laying on his side with his leg pulled up and out
to expose himself, one hand cupping the underside of his knee while the other
twists in the pillowcase. Like this, his physique is on full display for
Kirishima, he can watch how his muscles bunch and flex under his attentions. He
looks absolutely beautiful, achy and needy and baring himself for Kirishima,
only for Kirishima and no one else.
“Does it feel good, Midoriya?” He asks, though he doesn't need to, he can tell.
“Yes,” He mumbles.
Twists his wrist. “How good?”
Midoriya jerks his leg, pulls his knee flush to his chest. So he's flexible as
well as strong. “So good, so good.” He whines. “Kirishima, please, I want it to
be you.”
His cock twitches at the words and he palms himself through his shorts, just a
brief squeeze to take the edge off, before pushing the dildo back it. It
bottoms out, the knot disappearing once more inside and the crafted canine
testicles – complete with fur-like ridges and sheath lines – go flush with his
rim. A tremor ripples through Midoriya's body and he wiggles, pushes back
against the dildo and Kirishima's hand.
“Mmm more,” He breathes, grinding against the base. Kirishima chuckles lightly.
“There isn't anymore, you've got the whole thing in.” Kirishima glances over
his shoulder, where his shoebox of sex toys lay on the desk. He's got an
assortment, ranging from small to large, vibrators, suction cup bases, human-
shaped, and like the one currently being used – non-human shaped. “Are you
ready to go up a size?” He asks, returning his gaze to Midoriya.
“Yes – no! Just,” He turns his pleading eyes to Kirishima, “I want you. I'm
ready now. I want to go all the way.”
Kirishima's heart flutters, cheeks warm. “Are you sure?”
“After everything we've already done...”
His cheeks grow hotter. They have done so much together already, despite only
dating (if they can call it that) for about a month. They're just so compatible
and in so many ways, Kirishima is sure they're meant for each other. There
isn't anything he wouldn't do for – or with – Midoriya.
He checks the time on the bedside clock. 22:30 it reads. “Tomorrow, then.” He
says. “I wanna take my time with you, and it's already late. So,” He smirks,
tugging slightly on the dildo still in Midoriya's ass, “you ready to come on
this dog dick for me?”
He wraps his other hand around Midoriya's shaft, stroking, and the keening
noise he makes is all the answer he needs.
 
**
 
The moonlight filters in through the curtains of Kirishima's room, casting
Midoriya's naked form in soft light.
Carmine eyes rove over every detail: the light freckles scattered across his
shoulders, the sharp dip between smooth pecs, the soft dark trail of hair
spreading from his bellybutton down to his cock; the wiry, lean muscle of his
arms and abs, his strong thighs, his tight, round ass. Muscles that held more
power than Kirishima could ever know; muscles that could demolish him with a
slug of his fist.
When his eyes land on Midoriya's dick, the boy squirms, blunt teeth sinking
into his lip.
Kirishima's cock throbs with want.
He's laying there, open, ready, ready to be taken. His asshole is slick and
stretched, and unable to bear the anticipation any longer, Kirishima takes
Midoriya's heels and places them on his shoulders, tilting his ass up to align
with him.
Holding his cock at the base with one hand, Kirishima pauses. “Ready?” He asks
once more, and Midoriya reaches down between his legs to tug at his cock.
“Please – fuck me, Kirishima-kun.”
Holding his breath, Kirishima begins to press in.
He's met with resistance at first, despite all their preparations. But it's hot
and so, so wet that with a little more force, the head pops past the rim, and
then the rest of him seems to slide in easily. He keeps pushing until he's
seated all the way in, and only then does he avert his gaze, taking in
Midoriya's face.
His face is screwed up in an expression bordering pain and pleasure, jaw
dropped and eyes closed, hands scrambling for purchase against Kirishima's
arms.
“Fuck, Midoriya, you're tight.” Kirishima whispers reverently, and trembling he
moves a hand to grasp the other boy's leg, steadying himself against the
onslaught of sensations and feelings. He's inside of him. He's inside Midoriya,
and it feels good. It feels – right.
Kirishima grits his teeth, fighting the urge to fuck him senseless. “Let me
know if I hurt you, okay?”
Midoriya opens his eyes then, a grin spreading across his face and a flush
rising up his neck and chest. His asshole clenches around Kirishima's cock.
“Just fuck me.”
Gripping his legs for support, Kirishima starts rocking inside him, shallow
thrusts to get Midoriya accustomed to the sensation and only once his face
relaxes along with the rest of his muscles, going slack and no longer
resisting, does Kirishima fuck into him without care. The soft, squelching
sounds of cock slipping in and out of a tight ass turn to steady, loud slaps as
hips meet cheeks.
Deep, breathy moans leave Midoriya in regular time, and his face is no longer
unsure but solidly that of pleasure, intense, mind-numbing pleasure: cheeks
ruddy, the blush spread down to his chest and arms, his jaw dropped open, brows
pinched and pulled up. Suddenly, Midoriya reaches down and pulls his cheeks
apart, leveling Kirishima with a wanton gaze.
“Harder.” He groans.
Kirishima rams in him harshly, shuddering and crying out, seating himself full
with each thrust, pushing Midoriya's knees closer to his chest, bending him
nearly in half as he fucks into him rough and sloppy. He's so unbelievably
tight, his insides massaging and clinging to his cock with each drag in and out
as if Midoriya wants to milk him dry. He can't last long like this, it's just
too much.
Pausing to hike Midoriya higher on his lap, he drives into him at a deeper
angle, the new position curving Midoriya's back until only his shoulders touch
the bed. With the next thrust in he's crying, nails scratching down Kirishima's
arms so harshly that he has to harden them for protection. Midoriya's eyes fly
open, head flinging from side to side, wiggling under Kirishima's weight as if
trying to simultaneously get away and get closer.
“Kirishima...” He sobs, tears dripping down his cheeks. Green eyes meet red,
and Kirishima feels a swell of emotion so strong it chokes him. Midoriya is
looking at him with abandon, with uninhibited desire and affection, with
devotion and regard, and he feels tears welling in his own eyes that he blinks
back.
He's always held doubts about himself, about his worth and his strength, but as
Midoriya holds onto him, cries his name over and over as he comes untouched all
over his stomach, he believes the look in his eye. The look that says he's
deserving of this.
“I...” love you, Kirishima thinks, thrusting hard one last time, and empties
himself inside Midoriya with a flurry of juddering strokes, eyes held open to
take in the sight of him being filled, of the very moment they're as close as
two people can be.
As the last remaining spurts throb through him, he pushes Midoriya's legs to
wrap around his waist and sinks down until their chests touch, and he kisses
him. Biting, tasting, mouths moving in sync until Kirishima's mouth is filled
with that bitter copper mixing between them.
Midoriya keeps his eyes closed even as Kirishima stops kissing and slips out of
him, spent and soft. He wipes Midoriya's come from his belly, lifts his rear to
place a small towel underneath it. Midoriya looks sweet, looks perfect.
Kirishima wants to do this again and again with him, wants to spend his life
with this boy in his arms. He lays down next to him, curling around his body,
and hugs him close.
As they drift off to sleep, Kirishima wonders: Could Bakugou hear their love
for him?
End Notes
     thank you so much for reading! I appreciate comments and kudos. Hmu
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