Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13092675.
  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:
      Bakugou_Katsuki/Kirishima_Eijirou
  Character:
      Bakugou_Katsuki, Kirishima_Eijirou, Kaminari_Denki
  Additional Tags:
      Dorm_era, Snap_fic, Sexting, Dirty_Talk, dont_send_nudes_kids, Accidental
      Voyeurism, Kinda, Phone_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-12-21 Words: 2450
****** Kids Today and Their Darned Snapchats ******
by McWords
Summary
     The dorms can get quiet at night, and sleepless nights, though
     uncommon, are not unheard of. Katsuki can't find a single way to fall
     asleep, but a welcome distraction from Kirishima makes the night a
     bit more tolerable.
Notes
     This is the first thing I've written since NaNoWriMo lmao.
     A wise man once said to write the smut you want to see in the world.
See the end of the work for more notes
The dorms at UA get surprisingly quiet at night. No one would think that a
building full of teenagers could ever be completely quiet, but here they are.
The students of class 1-A have all dutifully retired to their dorms after a
long, long, long day. Hero training is rough enough on them that most of the
class is usually out by ten. Among that group is usually Katsuki Bakugou, but
tonight is a bit different. He can’t seem to fall asleep no matter how hard he
tries (though how hard he’s trying might in fact be a part of the problem). His
instagram feed doesn’t give him anything new no matter how many times he
refreshes it, and he’s already seen everyone’s snapchat stories. Usually, he
couldn’t care less about either of these things, but Katsuki just can’t find a
way to bore himself into any sort of sleep. The digital clock in his room
flashes 11:47 when he finally lets out a disgruntled sigh and plugs his phone
back in to charge, attempting sleep once again. His mind races and races from
inane topic to inane topic. He hasn’t had any caffeine or eaten anything weird,
so what the hell is his problem?
Katsuki’s phone buzzes from its spot on the floor. It’s probably just some
stupid email or robo text, but he picks it up anyways. It’s too quiet for him
to just lay there and think. The brightness of the phone blinds Katsuki as he
unlocks it to see what’s popped up. “Snapchat: Weird Hair, 11:52.” Now that
doesn’t make any sense. Why in the hell is Kirishima snapchatting him, and at
this time of night, no less? Katsuki opens the picture and immediately drops
his phone, hitting him square in the nose. The boy curses, but doesn’t try to
retrieve his phone out of...fear? Shock? Disbelief? He’s not sure if he just
saw what he thought he just saw, but Katsuki knows that either way, he’s not
prepared for the truth. With sweaty palms, he picks the phone up and taps the
screen before it can go dark on him. Though his mind may have reached a little
bit farther than what the picture actually shows, it’s still not something
Katsuki ever expected to see from Kirishima.
The picture is a selfie of Kirishima in dim light. It’s shot so that only the
lower half of his face is showing, displaying his trademark sharp-toothed grin.
Kirishima’s wearing a black tank top, but that doesn’t really matter, because
he’s got his thumb hooked in the hem of the shirt and it’s pulled up,
showcasing his bare torso. His bare, sweaty, tanned, defined-as-fuck torso.
Katsuki shivers, and then denies to himself that he did. This had to have been
an accident, right? It doesn’t make any sense that Kirishima would send him a
picture like this at shit-fuck p.m. He knows that Kirishima and that bootleg-
Kirishima from class 1-B sometimes traded workout pictures, so maybe this was
one of those, and Kirishima just accidentally sent it to Katsuki. Yeah. That
was probably it. But even as he tries to convince himself, Katsuki knows that
that didn’t happen. This is no workout picture. Kirishima may be glistening-
practically glowing- with sweat, his abs rock-hard without even having to use
his quirk, but this is not a workout picture. Judging by the low lighting, it
looks like Kirishima had just taken the picture while laying in his bed.
Katsuki’s been in his room a few times, and yeah, those definitely look like
his sheets. Even so, there’s no way that this isn’t some sort of
misunderstanding, as much as Katsuki wishes it isn’t.
Truth be told, Katsuki isn’t one who’s unopposed to stealing quick glances at
his best friend in the locker room or relishing the few moments of contact he
gets when Kirishima slings his arm around Katsuki’s shoulders. He’s never
really had a friend like Kirishima before, someone to willing (and eager) to
put up with his bullshit all of the time because they know where it’s coming
from. Kirishima gets him, and hell if Katsuki doesn’t fall in love with him a
little more every time he flashes that stupidly-beautiful smile. Despite this,
Katsuki knows he can never say these words out loud. He’s got a reputation to
uphold that doesn’t include saying mushy-gushy stuff about the manliest guy in
school. Not to mention, there was always the possibility that he’s get
rejected, thereby ruining their friendship. And as much as Katsuki yearns to be
just a little bit closer to Kirishima, he has no idea what he’d do with himself
if he lost the guy, and a just-friends relationship is better than no
relationship at all.
There’s still the question of what to do about all of this, though. Kirishima
knows he’s seen it. The minutes tick by, but no “whoops sorry, wrong person”
message makes its way through. What is he supposed to do? He stares at the
screen and the screen stares back. When Kiri starts typing again, Katsuki
nearly has a heart attack. He stops and then starts again a few times before a
message finally pops up.
“So??” So what? What the fuck? Kirishima has to know he’s texting Bakugou,
right? There’s no way he’s mistaken him for another person to this extent. His
heart pounds in his chest. Katsuki’s got read receipts turned on (mostly just
for the use of letting people know he’s ignoring them) but right now, it’s not
working in his favor. Kirishima knows he’s seen these messages, and he never
purposefully ignores Kirishima. His hands shake as he types.
“Um,” he hits send and then pauses to see if Kirishima might start typing.
“???” It’s not Katsuki’s usual angry response. Even with Shitty Hair, Katsuki
usually infuses a bit of his trademark hostility into his responses.
Unfortunately, these circumstances have left him unable to do so. Kirishima
starts typing.
“What do you think?” What. What does that mean? Before Katsuki can even begin
to formulate a response, another picture comes through. This time, Kirishima is
completely shirtless, lying on his bed. The picture is taken from the same
angle as before, showing that smile full of mischief, and his bare chest. The
biggest difference with this one is that Kiri’s got his thumb hooked in the
waistband of his shorts, pulling them down an inch to reveal the elastic of his
boxer briefs. Bakugou swallows thickly and shivers. With this picture he can’t
deny that he’s getting hard, but was this really the intended result? Kirishima
did tend to be a little hard-headed at times, so it’s completely possible that
he was just sending these to his best bro for a little opinion on how
absolutely built he’s gotten. Now, he really has to say something. But what’s
Katsuki supposed to say? He could always tell the truth and say that this
picture of his best friend was making him incredibly turned on. He could deny
it and say that he’s extremely weirded out by this whole situation.
“It’s nice,” is what he eventually settles on. It takes Kirishima a minute to
respond, and Katsuki nearly dies in the few seconds it takes for him to type.
“Yeah?” God, Katsuki can practically hear Kirishima’s voice at this point, and
suppresses the urge to palm himself through his pants. “Can I see you?” He
freezes up. Are they really doing this? Bakugou had always assumed that
Kirishima only thought of him as a friend, but maybe he’s wrong. This whole
situation probably means that he’s wrong. Katsuki looks down at himself. It’s
dark and he’s only wearing his boxers, through which a noticeable hard-on can
be seen. It’s embarrassing, for one. Katsuki’s never really been one for taking
selfies. The closest thing he’s ever gotten to that has been when Denki sneaks
pictures of him and posts them on his story. He supposes that maybe he could
try, though. For Kirishima.
Bakugou gets up and turns on a lamp, leaving him in low enough light that maybe
he’ll feel a little bit better about the picture. He lays back down, trying to
look like he’s been there the entire time. None of it feels comfortable, but he
holds his phone up in the air, flipping the camera around. The angle he takes
it at gets a bit of his face in the shot as he looks off to the side. His torso
is much paler than Kirishima’s but no less as muscled. There’s a slight bulge
in his boxers and Bakugou’s face flushes as he looks over the photo. He knows
that re-taking it won’t make him feel any better, so he swipes through a few
filters before sending it with shaking fingers. He breathes heavily as
Kirishima opens and replays the snap. This was a mistake, he thinks.
“Wow.” Wow. Kirishima opened his picture and thought ‘wow’. Is this really
happening?
“Are you hard?” Asks the next message. Katsuki flushes again, feeling like he’s
been caught in the act. No, he thinks.
“Yeah,” he types. Another picture comes through, and Katsuki holds his breath.
“Me too,” the caption says. Katsuki can’t suppress the moan that comes when he
sees the picture he’s sent. His shorts are all the way off now, and his hand is
in his boxer briefs. While all of the previous pictures had him smiling, he
looks absolutely breathless in this one, his mouth open in an ‘o’.
“Are you touching yourself?” Kirishima asks.
“No.”
“Oh,” he replies. “Well, i am."
"Whatre you thinking abt,” Bakugou asks. After he sends it, it sounds like a
strange question, but it doesn’t seem to phase Kirishima at all.
“You.” Oh. Yeah, that was a stupid question. Kirishima doesn’t follow up on his
statement, instead a call comes through, Katsuki's ringtone making him jump out
of his skin. He stares at the screen for a second before accepting the call and
putting the phone to his ear.
“Kirishima?”
“Eijiro.” Bakugou tries not to moan just from hearing his voice alone. It’s
breathy and quiet. He’s probably trying not to wake up the students in the
rooms next to him. Eijiro’s nice like that.
“Eijiro. What are you thinking about?” Kirishima grunts softly.
“I already told you.”
“No, be more specific.” The sound from the other end of the line goes dead for
a second before Eijiro laughs, low and raspy. Katsuki’s face flushes, half in
embarrassment and half in pure arousal. He knows that his best friend is hot,
but he never expected him to be this sexy.
“I’m thinking about you. About your hands, your mouth, all over me. What it
would be like if you were under me.” Katsuki can’t suppress his moan.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Are you touching yourself?” Katsuki takes that as some sort of
permission, though he doesn’t know why he thinks he needs it. His right hand
goes down to close around his dick, his left hand holding the phone. He
shudders.
“Yeah.” A soft ‘fuck’ comes from the other end of the line.
“Good. Tell me what you’re doing.” His voice is firm and commanding and Bakugou
shivers.
“I’m...I’m in bed, and I’m-I’ve got my hand on my cock.” Eijiro takes in a
shaky breath.
“Mmm. Good boy.” It’s so unexpected that Katsuki chokes on his own moan. “Oh,
you like that?” He can practically hear the smirk in Eijiro’s voice. “Imagine
that I’m there with you.” Katsuki’s hand speeds up.
“What would you do? If you were here.” He makes a humming noise and Katsuki
closes his eyes.
“I’d have you pinned against the sheets, your hands up above your head. I’d
touch you just like you’re doing now, and I’d kiss you. God, what I would do to
kiss you right now.” A low whine makes its way up out of Katsuki’s throat.
“Yeah, just like that. You’d be so desperate, wouldn’t you, Katsuki? But I
would take my time, explore your body. I’d kiss down your jaw, down your neck,
over your chest. Play with your nipples, for me. Imagine your hands are mine.”
Katsuki takes it as an order, setting the phone beside him on the pillow and
putting his left hand to better use. His voice is sinful.
“That’s right. Just like that. I’d kiss all the way down to your boxers, but I
wouldn’t pull them down right away. I’d take my time, kiss up your inner thighs
and leave hickeys where no one else can see them. They’re not for anyone else’s
eyes, but you’d still know that they’re there every time you walk or sit down.
Would you like that?” Katsuki outright moans, and Eijiro’s breath hitches.
“Yes.” His back arches and his breath is uneven.
“I’d keep going until you couldn’t take it anymore. Until that arrogant little
facade you put up finally cracked and you begged me for more. Only then would I
pull down your boxers and suck you off. I’d let you fist your hands in my hair
and fuck my mouth, shove your thick cock down my throat. You like that Katsuki?
Yeah? I’d be your slut, you could hold me down and make me deepthroat you as
you came, and I’d still swallow it all down. You want me to be your slut,
Katsuki? Oh, god I’m close.” Eijiro moaned and Bakugou could here the lewd
slapping sounds as he fisted his cock. Katsuki matched his rhythm and moaned
loudly.
“Fuck, me too.”
“Ah~ Katsuki! Come for me, Katsuki.” And with that, both boys finished off,
coming into their hands. As their breathing slowed down, Eijiro whispered
something into the phone that Katsuki wouldn’t have expected in a million
years.
“I love you, Katsuki.” There was a beat of silence.
“Love you too, dumbass.” And he hung up.
===============================================================================
Katsuki walks into class the next day, scanning the room for Eijiro. The head
of bright-red hair is facing away from the door, and while he doesn’t notice
Bakugou’s presence, someone else does. Denki’s face lights up with mischief as
Bakugou walks in and he elbows Sero to get his attention. He looks straight at
Bakugou, practically asking for death as he lets out the most over-exaggerated
porn star moan that he can.
“Ah! Come for me Katsuki!” He freezes. He had tried to be as quiet as possible
last night, but Denki’s room is right next to Eijiro’s, isn’t it? Kirishima
whips around to look at Katsuki, his face almost as red as his hair. Bakugou
stands there for a second, considering his options, before making the
reasonable decision to fucking kill Denki.
End Notes
     My twitter is @hire_a_samurai and my tumblr is @welcometawalgreens if
     you ever wanna yell at me about assorted fandoms.
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