(Kiribaku drabble for the prompt “first times”. For someone who sponsored today’s iced ko-fi & wants to remain anon 💕 heavily inspired by this fan art aaa)
Kirishima has a huge crush on his best friend.
A huge, damn crush and he can’t deny it anymore. He tried at first, really. He told himself that it was just a coincidence that he always felt a little bit hotter when Bakugou’s shirt rode up, showing a sliver of skin. It’s not his fault that Bakugou’s so damn manly, and powerful, and assertive. It’s also not his fault that he wants to push his best bro against a wall and grasp his waist - who the hell gave Bakugou permission to look so good, anyway!?
He takes what he can get, though - and that’s putting an arm around Bakugou’s shoulders, and staring at his collarbone when he thinks he won’t get caught, and knocking their knees together under the table. Kirishima’s a touchy guy, and it’s kind of endearing how Bakugou scowls at him when he places a hand on Bakugou’s knee. It’s cute because Bakugou’s cheeks darken. Sometimes, he’ll startle enough to stop in the middle of a temper tantrum.
And also really, really hot.
Once, in the middle of a study session, Kirishima’s so bored out of his mind that while Bakugou rambles about a math problem… Kirishima reaches across the table and brushes spiky hair behind an ear. Which doesn’t make any sense, because it only puffs right back into place. Bakugou freezes, his eyes widening, his ears turning red in an impressive speed.
Kirishima observes that when Bakugou blushes, it reaches until his neck, his chest.
Predictably, Bakugou bristles. “What. The. Fuck?”
“Bro,” Kirishima says, all serious, “you blush easily, did you know that?”
“When someone touches you, you get all red. Ticklish? Is that it?”
Bakugou lunges at him, a look of absolute fury on his face. Undeterred and laughing, Kirishima hardens against the blasts.
It becomes a game to Kirishima.
He’ll place a hand on Bakugou’s hip, or rub circles on his back, or even lean his forehead against his shoulder out of nowhere.
Bakugou will always tense up and scowl at him.
He will always relax after a few seconds, too. Kirishima becomes bolder as time passes by. Little by little, he crosses barriers he never thought he could.
It’s addicting, and Kirishima has no willpower.
Blinking, Kirishima looks up. “Stop what?”
They’re on the floor, sitting across from each other, in Kirishima’s room. They’re so close that their knees knock together.
And Kirishima has a hand on Bakugou’s thigh, just resting there, while Bakugou had been explaining a certain theory to him.
“This!” Bakugou smacks his hand. “It’s fucking distracting. Let go!”
“Oh.” Kirishima blinks. “I. Uh. I thought you liked it.”
Kirishima places his other hand on his other thigh, squeezes it, and Bakugou bristles. With a sheepish smile, Kirishima chuckles, “It always seemed to get you to relax, so I thought…”
“It distracts me, not relaxes me!” Bakugou snarls, annoyed. His face is bright red, again. “It’s fucking distracting, you trying to seduce me all the goddamn time!”
This time, it’s Kirishima who turns an impressive shade of red. He flusters and stares, mouth agape. “S-seduce!?”
Bakugou’s pretty damn smug at himself at that reaction. “Heh. Yeah.”
“I-I’m not - oh god, Bakugou,” Kirishima flounders. His grip on Bakugou’s thighs tighten out of nervousness and he doesn’t miss the way that Bakugou winces at that. “Shit, sorry.”
“It’s whatever,” says Bakugou. He stares at the hands on his thigh.
Kirishima’s a mess. His mind is full of static. He doesn’t even realize that he’s now twisting his fingers around the material of Bakugou’s shorts.
“I win this time,” snorts Bakugou.
Kirishima’s into Bakugou when he’s assertive and smug - which is most of the time.
But he likes Bakugou even more when he’s a mess, when he’s flustered. That thought spurs Kirishima, makes him competitive, gives him newfound confidence.
Kirishima smirks at Bakugou. “Bet you wouldn’t be so high and mighty if I kissed you right now.”
The reaction is immediate.
“Die,” hisses Bakugou, baring his teeth and looking at anything but Kirishima.
“Could even blow you, if you’re into that.”
“Holy fuck, Kirishima!” Bakugou grabs him by the head and sets of explosions which he hardens against.
Kirishima cackles, watches Bakugou fumble with his own hands, watches his arms shake in embarrassment.
“Geez,” Kirishima wheezes, “you’re adorable, bro.”
“Hey.” Kirishima scoots closers. He’s in between Bakugou’s legs now. When Bakugou tries to knee him on the hip, he simply tightens his hold and keeps him in place. “Hey, let me kiss you.”
He’s not sure where his confidence is coming from, but it’s now or never.
Bakugou stares. He’s biting his lower lip so hard it almost bleeds; his eyebrows are furrowed, and he doesn’t say anything even when Kirishima shakingly holds him by the sides of his face. The room is so hot, the tension unbearable. Kirishima can practically hear his heartbeat hammer in his ears, and when he inches closer, Bakugou doesn’t pull away. Thank fuck.
“Let me kiss you,” Kirishima exhales, their noses brushing. “Please?”
Bakugou looks like he’s going to implode, and Kirishima feels the same.
Since Bakugou’s not pushing him away, Kirishima takes the leap. He angles his head and presses a chaste kiss on Bakugou’s lips. Of course, Bakugou tenses up. He squares his shoulders and his arms vibrate. Kirishima’s patient, always has been. Even if Bakugou doesn’t kiss him back, Kirishima continues to brush their lips together, again and again. Bakugou tastes like smoke; he smells like it, too.
It doesn’t come as a surprise that Kirishima really, really likes kissing Bakugou. It takes time, but it happens. Bakugou relaxes, and his hands are shaking as he grasps Kirishima by the wrists. Finally, he kisses back, and their timing is awful. Kirishima giggles at how they’re both so out of their own elements - Bakugou growls against his mouth, annoyed.
“We’ll get better,” Kirishima chuckles when they pull away to catch a breath.
“Fuck you, I’m the best at everything.”
Sniggering, Kirishima clutches at Bakugou’s hair, pulls him back for another kiss that knocks the air out of him.
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