Unplanned, Eijirou Kirishima x f!reader
chapter one: bulletproof plan
read chapter two
A/N: i recently read a bkg fanfic where his mom is a luxury fashion designer and i legit could not stop thinking about it for the past week so i had to write this
warnings: not proofread, just straight out of my ass, cursing, reader is bkg's sister, brothers best friend trope, one night stand trope ofc bc it wouldn't be my fic if there was no one night stand trope, female reader, implied alcohol use, implied sexual intercourse, lmk if i missed anny
summary: all you wanted to do was let loose and celebrate your promotion, you worked hard enough to get to where you were. you had everything you wanted, money, power, good looks, and no interest whatsoever in a relationship. so, how could someone unimportant as a one-night stand leave such an empty feeling in your heart?
You’re used to waking up in the comfort of your cosy bedroom, in your penthouse that lays on the 16th floor in a luxury building in the centre of Tokyo, Japan, overlooking a breathtaking view of the city. Laying on a few too many pillows that smelled like your vanilla-scented candles which you lit up every night before bed at precisely 8:30 at night. The pillows, of course, are wrapped in mulberry silk pillowcases. You’re used to waking up at 7:00 am by your alarm clock in your custom expensive silk pyjamas which have your initials sewn on the sleeves, covered by the expensive cashmere duvet you got as a gift for Christmas from your mother.
What you’re not used to, though, is being woken up with a massive headache caused by an even bigger hangover by an annoying buzzing sound that’s going off next to your head. You groan, not even bothering to open your eyes, you know the brightness of the sun is only planning on causing harm to your eyesight. You knock down what sounds like a vase, or maybe even a lamp as you’re fishing around your nightstand for the device which the buzzing is coming from.
As you finally grab your phone, you realise your mother, the famously amazing fashion designer Mitsuki Bakugou taught her daughter better than to have a vase on her nightstand next to the bed. She has always called flowers too close to the place you sleep a god-awful faux pas.
So, keeping that in mind, how on earth did a vase appear in your perfectly decorated home? Last you remembered your quirk definitely did not have anything to do with teleporting tacky objects into your vicinity.
You slowly opened your eyes, the brightness (and the hangover) hitting you like a brick right on your face. As the hangover, along with the realisation that you were not, in fact laying in your bed flooded in, so did the memories of last night.
It started as a simple dinner with a few of your girlfriends. You ordered a bottle of champagne and dined on the most expensive dishes in the whole country of Japan. Oh, you remembered now. You were celebrating. Your mother finally deemed you worthy of offering you the job as creative director of her luxury clothing brand, which you obviously gladly accepted. Sure, those who thank nepotism for your success weren’t all that wrong, but you know you worked harder than any of her other employees and you earned the position with your own blood, sweat and tears.
You squinted as you looked around the room you were currently in, trying to blink away the blurriness. You looked under the sheets you were covered by, praying that - nope, of course, you were naked.
You remembered why you even opened your eyes as the phone in your hand kept buzzing. You cringed as you read your brother's name flashing on the screen. You debated hanging up, but you were quite familiar with Katsuki’s temper, so you decided against it.
“Oi, dipshit” you heard your brother's endearment from the other line.
“Hey, asshole” you half whispered, still not quite sure if you had company, as you were too scared to look to your left and see if the other side of the queen bed you had spent the night in was occupied. Your voice was hoarse, and your throat still burned from last night's outing.
“Why do you sound like that? Did you just wake up? It’s 11 A.M., I knew you were lazy, but I didn't think it got this bad.”
“Not all of us are wannabe big-shot pro heroes. Some of us have actual jobs and have to work late sometimes.” you rolled your eyes as you lied through your teeth, you were definitely not doing anything remotely close to work last night.
You slowly got out of bed, stumbling on a foreign object. You looked down and realised you tripped over the lacy bra you were wearing last night. Well, at least you wore cute undergarments.
You grabbed the sheet off the bed and wrapped your naked body with it, uncovering the tall, lean and chiselled figure of your companion, the man’s head still lying covered by a pile of pillows. You could hear the sounds of his light snoring, indicating he was soundly asleep. Lucky bastard, he wasn’t the one having to be on the phone with the pissy spiky-haired blonde.
Your admiring was cut short by the angry screeching voice of your older brother.
“WHO ARE YOU CALLING A WANNA-BE WOMAN?!”
You audibly cringed as the loudness reached your ears and decided to move your conversation to the on-suite bathroom, in hopes of not waking up the person you presumed was the owner of the home you were currently in.
“Why are you groaning? Are you drunk? I swear you’re worse than mom, who drinks before 6-”
“Shut up Suki, I’m not drunk. I’m groaning because you’re the first person I have to listen to and you’re ruining my plans for a peaceful morning.”
“Tch, ya’ think I actually wanna talk to you? You should be grateful I even took time out of my busy morning to call you to congratulate you on the promotion.”
“Oh, so you’re congratulating me? See, I always knew you did have a heart somewhere deep down.”
You swear you can hear him roll his red eyes.
“Shut the fuck up, I’m calling because mom couldn’t get a hold of you all morning. She’s been yelling like a mad woman, callin’ you irresponsible.”
Yeah, that sounded like your mother.
“We’re having dinner tonight. I made a reservation for the four of us, at that fancy sushi place you like. I’ll text you the details later.”
Before you could even try to tease your brother for being a softie and wanting to celebrate his sister's success, you were met by a beep indicating he had already hung up the call. You sighed, making a mental note to take time out of the day to mentally prepare yourself for the obnoxiously loud dinner that’s going to take place in a few hours.
You loved your family, you truly did. But there was no denying they were too much at times. Especially your mother and brother. You were always told, ever since you were a small child that you took more after your father, Masaru. You might have inherited your mother's beauty, wit, sense of style and talent for fashion design, but your half of the short temper inheritance seemed to just be passed over to your older brother, Katsuki.
You looked around the huge bathroom you were in, taking in the marble counters and the glossy tiles. You peeked in the shower, not seeing any 3-in-1 shampoo, which was always a green flag in your book. You splashed some cold water on your face, which did nothing for the headache you were carrying.
As you lifted your head up and took a good look at your face in the giant mirror in front of you, you took in all your features. Your mascara was smeared, the remains of your lipstick still a bit visible on your lips. The bags under your eyes were more visible than ever. But the main thing you noticed was the purple and blue hickeys all over your neck and chest. The man you spent the night with obviously not wanting to let you go without a parting gift
“Well that’s for sure gonna be a bitch to hide.” you thought to yourself as your manicured fingers trailed over the bite marks.
You kind of remember you and your friends, tipsy off of champagne deciding to go to the opening of the newest high-end club, a few blocks away from the fancy restaurant you ate dinner at. You’re also more than sure that you spent more than a couple of hundreds of dollars on drinks and whatever else you decided to consume the night before.
You manage to remember grinding on a tall, muscular figure, hungrily kissing him shoved against a wall of the crowded club.
“You wanna get out of here?” the deep voice made your whole body shudder.
“Yes, please” you managed to get out, not even caring if you sounded too needy, desperate for any kind of relief.
The figure smiled with sharp teeth as he took your hand and guided you toward the exit.
You couldn’t help but find the smile familiar like you’ve seen it somewhere before. Everything was still very blurry but you couldn't help the familiarity that kept sneaking up your neck, though you brush it off as a symptom of your hangover. Big mistake
You decide you’ve stalled enough and come up with an escape plan in your head. All you had to do was locate all your clothes - no, not even all of them. You could do without the underwear. You just had to grab the brand new leather pants as you just bought them yesterday and couldn’t bare leaving them in a stranger's bedroom. Your lacy bodysuit too, maybe you’ll even have time to grab a t-shirt, to minimize the effect of your walk of shame. And your heels too, you probably shouldn’t leave without your Manolos.
The plan was perfect, bulletproof even, some would probably say. The only problem was, as you quietly opened the door of the bathroom, you were met with the strangers' sleepy crimson eyes. Only, it was no stranger standing in front of you. It was Eijiro Kirishima, more famously known as one of the top heroes of Japan, Red Riot. Or, more familiar to you as your brother's best friend since their first year of high school.
“K-Kirishima?” you stuttered, your mouth standing agape from the shock Your body completely froze, as you held the sheet glued to your body with a death grip. As if covering yourself will undo the events of last night.
“Oh, fuck, Katsuki’s gonna murder me.”
kirishima x bakugou x f!reader
summary - you're a shy transfer student who's paired with kirishima for a project, by chance, you meet his boyfriend. porn with not a lot of plot.
a/n - smut, threesome, bakugou and kirishima are both bi and so is reader, college au, quirkless au, praise, degradation, shy reader, sorry for slandering shinsou, unprotected sex, face fucking, impact play, cumplay ig im, i forgot that this was mostly filth when i went to re edit it. repost from my old blog, katsupeach. kirishima and bakugou's heights are described but they're bigger than you, daddy kink, some mild hurt comfort, they like you more than a one night stand isn't that nice.
MINORS DNI - You must have an age visible on your page somewhere to interact with this post.
Being paired with the sunny extroverted football player for your essay project wasn’t your worst nightmare, but only because your subconscious was rarely so creatively cruel. You traced the assignment with your finger, checking again to make sure that it was right. F/N L/N, Kirishima Eijirou. Fuck. You look up, and to your embarrassment, he’s looking over at you, and you make eye contact. He shoots you a bright smile that you attempt to return. Professor Aizawa continues talking about the project, but you’re not listening, you’re too busy wiping your clammy hands on your jeans. You dart out of the classroom, through the hallways, and onto the quad but of course, he catches you.
“Hey, hey y/n!” Shit. You turn around and there he is, towering over you.
“Hi.” You say.
“Do you wanna exchange numbers? Talk about the project?” He grins at you. “You’re a transfer, right?
“Yeah,” you say quickly. “Don’t worry about the project, I’ll just do it. I don’t mind.” He blinks at you.
“No, uh, no way,” He sheepishly touches the back of his neck. “I can’t letcha do that, I promise I won’t hold you back.” You swallow nervously.
“It’s really fine.” You respond, barely audible. He shakes his head.
“Come on, I won’t be that bad.” He reaches out to touch your upper arm and you flinch from him. “Sorry, I just,” he withdraws his hand, “Let’s get coffee if you don’t have class? On me.” You tuck your hair behind your ears.
“Oh, um sure.” He leads you to the student union, chattering about the reading, making it so you barely have to fill in the blanks of the conversation. He leans down to you when you get to the barista,
“Whaddya want, I’ll order for you.”
“Just a latte.” You say. He moves around you to order, careful not to touch you.
“She’ll have a latte, and I’ll have a Caramel Frappucino.” He says, smiling gently at you. “Let’s grab a booth, it’ll be quieter.” You let him lead you across the busy student union, holding both of your hot coffees. He’s right, it’s a little quieter in the booth. “Do you have any ideas?”
“Yeah,” You tuck your hair behind your ears. “I was thinking, maybe um something about, the pre-raphaelites, and how their ultra-realism was a revolution that actually went so hard that it transcended realism to become nonrepresentational.” He blinks at you.
“Yeah, uh, okay, let’s do that.” You sigh.
“Just let me do it.”
“No, no,” he says quickly, “I’m a little behind in the reading, that’s all, I’ll catch up and then I’ll understand. Let’s look now, at one of the paintings, and you can explain it to me.” You take a sip of your coffee and flip to a page in your three hundred dollar textbook, complete with glossy colored pictures.
“This is Ophelia, by John Edwin Millais.” He looks at the pale woman lying in the reeds.
“Oh shit, is she dead?” You swallow.
“Yeah, of course, she is, she’s Ophelia.” He looks sheepish. “From Hamlet. She pretty famously dies.” He looks even more sheepish.
“Uh, okay.” He puts his palms up. “Tell you what, I will catch up on the reading. I will. And then we can divide up work, and get started. I will not be the mean jock that makes you do this yourself. I refuse.”
“Frankly that’s more honor than I expected from you.” He laughs, touching the back of his neck.
“Jeez. Sorry that my fellow athletes did ya so dirty. Scouts honor, I won’t leave you high and dry.” He’s oozing sincerity. You don’t trust it.
“Okay.” He raises his eyebrows and then straightens.
“It doesn’t matter if you believe me now. I’m gonna prove it.” He looks down at the textbook. “Okay, she’s dead, keep explaining.”
“So she’s dead, but look at all the flowers around her. Her death is a tragedy, and it’s considered one of the most eloquent descriptions of death in literature.”
“Ooh,” Kirishima takes his phone out. “Let me google it. What’s it from again?” You smile nervously.
“It’s Lady Gertrude’s speech, from Hamlet.” He squints at his screen.
“Wait, what language is this in?” You laugh a little despite yourself.
“English,” you say, “give it here, I’ll demonstrate.” He hands you his phone, it’s cool and heavy in your hands. “No case?”
“I don’t drop things.” He says, a hint of pride in his voice. You laugh, genuinely.
“There, on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds, Clamb'ring to hang, an envious sliver broke,” your voice is low, Kirishima leans in across the table to hear what you’re saying. “When down her weedy trophies and herself, Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide,” He feels a blush creep onto his cheeks, there’s something almost sensual about the music of your words. “Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes, As one incapable of her own distress,” Kirishima’s breath hitches in his throat.
“Oh,” he interrupts you, “Oh I get it.” You nod. “Wait but please don’t stop.” He begs. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Go on.” You give him a small smile.
“Or like a creature native and endued unto that element. But long it could not be
till that her garments, heavy with their drink, pulled the poor wretch from her melodious lay, to muddy death.” He sighs with happiness.
“Wow.” He breathes. “Reading Shakespeare doesn’t feel like that.”
“That’s because he wrote plays,” you explain, “And plays, like poetry, were always meant to be experienced as spoken word entertainment rather than read.” He nods vigorously.
“That makes so much sense!” He grins, still leaning rather close to you across the table.
“Oi, shitty hair!” Someone snarls and you jump, gasping in surprise. “And what the fuck is wrong with you?” Bakugou Katsuki, loud, brash, and Quarterback of the football team leans over your table. You shrink from him.
“Bakugou!” Kirishima chastizes. “You can’t snap at people like that. You scared the shit out of her, I just got her to start talking to me.” He shakes his head. “Y/n, I’m sorry, this is my boyfriend.” You blink in surprise. “Yeah, we’re both bi.” He confirms, fielding your expression with expert precision. Bakugou elbows his way next to Kirishima in the booth, dropping his textbooks. “Y/n was just reading me some Shakespeare for context on this.” He points to the Millais, your textbook still lying open.
“That Ophelia?” He asks you and you nod. “So you were reading him Lady Gertrude’s speech.” You blink at him. “Yeah, we’re not all fuckin’ idiots.” He says, hitting Kirishima lightly on the back of the head. “But go ahead, I want to hear it.”
“Oh um,” your face burns. “I was done. I mean it’s a short passage.”
“Something else then,” he grins, “I like to watch him struggle.” Kirishima swats at his boyfriend, who dodges and smiles. You hand him his phone back.
“I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” You say and he narrows his eyes, and scrolls through his phone.
“Shitty hair we’ll give you somethin’ easy, just tell us what this means.”
“Why can’t you read it?” You say a little annoyed and he grins.
“You’ll see.” He selects something on his phone and then hands it to you.
“Oh.” You say, a scowl forming on your lips, seeing Katherine’s monologue. “You want me to read the Shakespearean equivalent of yes sir, I would be happy to make you that sandwich?”
“What?” Kirishima blinks. Bakugou looks like he’s about to speak but you cut him off.
“Kirishima look at me.” He does. “This was the first thing we were supposed to read in this course. Have you done any of the reading for this class?” Kirishima goes bright red, shrinking nervously from Bakugou.
“Shitty hair?” Bakugou growls. “Skippin’ out on the reading, huh?” You raise your eyebrows and start to gather your things. Kirishima buries his face in his hands.
“Wait,” you stop and look at him, you’d already stood to make your escape. “Please help me study, please help me catch up.” He eyes Bakugou. “He’s the meanest tutor, and I feel like you wouldn’t be.” You sigh.
“Kirishima, we’re not even friends.” You reach for your coffee but he looks so hurt that you pause. Bakugou snorts.
“Never thought I’d see the day where it took you more than five minutes to make friends with someone,” he eyes you, “What’s your deal? You’re a transfer, right?” Your hands shake a little as you respond.
“Yep.” It could be your imagination, but for a fraction of a second, Bakugou’s eyes flick to your hands before moving back to your face, softening a little.
“Please.” Kirishima says, taking a step forward. “I’ll do something for you, anything.” You sigh, looking away. “I’ll introduce you to all our friends!” he offers. “You don’t know anyone, right?”
“And I like it that way.” You counter and that gets a genuine laugh out of Bakugou. “I’ll tutor you, though,” you offer, “On one condition.” Kirishima nods, and you sit back down. “I will make every decision about this project.”
“That’s fine!” He says brightly. “Thank you, thank you so much.” Bakugou clears his throat, you’re still holding his phone.
“Actually,” you say, “This is an ok place to start.” You turn the phone to Kirishima on the table who shakes his head.
“Read it to me, please, please it sounds so much better.” You massage your temples, watching Bakugou smirk.
“Fie, fie, unknit that threatening unkind brow, And dart not scornful glances from those eyes, To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor.” You say, not sure where to look.
“Ok, so don’t question your boss.” Kirishima says, “Got it.”
“Not quite.” You say. “Very sweet of you to immediately strip the clearly gendered terminology from this passage.” Bakugou knocks shoulders with his boyfriend.
“Try again.” He motions for you to continue.
“It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads, Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds, And in no sense is meet or amiable. A woman mov’d is like a fountain troubled- Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty.”
“Oh.” Kirishima says. “This is about, uh, like, when women aren’t sweet they’re ugly?” You nod, smiling.
“Yeah, that’s as decent interpretation. Think about the words, a woman moved is like a fountain troubled, women who have strong emotion or even rational thought that’s being read as emotion due to a sexist lense, has as much value as a fountain that’s broken, spewing mud. Think about that metaphor.” Kirishima’s brow furrows.
“I don’t like this. I love it when women aren’t sweet.” Then he smiles at you. “‘Course, if they wanna be, that’s fine by me.” You hand Bakugou his phone back.
“I’m finished debasing my gender for your entertainment.” You say to the blonde, and scribble something down on a scrap of paper. “I’m free Saturday afternoon, this is my number, text me if you want to be tutored.”
On Friday night, you’re curled up with a mug of hot chocolate and your favorite show, with a soft blanket, happily alone in your single. You get a text from Kirishima.
Kirishima: hey! We’re having a movie night. Wanna come over?
You: I’m good, thanks
Kirishima: come on, what are you doing?
You: watching Jane the Virgin
Kirishima: alone or am I interrupting a netflix and chill session
You: aaaaaaaaa i like being alone it’s fine
You toss your phone aside, ignoring it’s incessant buzzing, watching Jane pick out a wedding dress, tearing up when her father shows up. You have a moment where you genuinely struggle with the desire to respond, grappling with your own social anxiety before choosing the comfort of being alone. There’s a soft knock at the door. You throw a zip up hoodie on over your tank top.
“Hey,” There’s a guy standing in the hallway with dark hair. You don’t recognize him. “I’m Shindou, your next door neighbor.” You shrug.
“Hi, can I help you?” You can smell the alcohol on his breath, he runs his fingers through his hair..
“Can I come in?” He asks, smiling brilliantly. You shake your head.
“No thanks,” you lean against the doorframe. “What’s up?” He takes a step near you.
“You can um,” he says, smiling sheepishly, “I was hoping I could come in.” He’s swaying a little.
“Nope,” you try and close the door but he wedges an elbow into it, catching the door frame in a large hand.
“I would like you to leave.” You say, with as much firmness as you can muster.
“Don’t be like that, sweetheart.” He says, smiling, “Come on, don’t be a bitch about this,”
“Don’t be a bitch about what?” A familiar voice growls from down the hallway.
“Just leave.” You say, pleading, trying again to close the door on him but he shoves his way in, stumbling drunk. You jump out of the way but he knocks into you, and you slam against the chest of drawers next to your door, the air rushing from your lungs. Strong hands pull him back though, as you catch yourself before he can hit the ground. You see Bakugou slam him against a wall.
“Walk it the fuck off.” Bakugou snarls, before turning his attention to you. “Text Kirishima back. You’re hurting his feelings.” He says, before registering your face, how shaken you are. “Oh shit, don’t fuckin’ cry.” Your hands shake, hard.
“W-what are you doing in my building?” You ask. He blinks at you.
“I live here.” He points to the black garbage bag he put down to grab Shindo. “That guys an asshole. Stay away from him.” You nod and he sighs, looking away. “Fine.” He pushes his way into your room, and before you can say anything he’s wrapping his arms around you. “Shh, or shut up or somethin’, okay?” You bury your face in his neck, it does feel nice, to be held. He lets you go after about a minute. “Come on. Movie night.”
“Did that sound like a fuckin’ invitation to you?” He snarls. “Because I meant it like a goddamn order.” You nod, sniffling a little. He waits for you while you pick up your phone and slip into some shoes.
“Gonna uh,” he says, “Gonna put pants on?” You turn beet red and lift the end of your long hoodie to reveal the shorts you were wearing, he looks almost disappointed. “Come on then, we don’t have all damn night.” You grab your room key and phone and follow him down the hallway to the garbage shoot, and then up to his room. He lived on the fourth floor, and his room had slanted ceilings that were covered with posters. There’s a small crowd gathered on an array of beanbag chairs, and the small dorm room was spotless. Kirishima’s face lights up.
“You came!” He says, getting up and giving you a quick hug.
“Some fuckin’ asshole tried to barge into her room.” Bakugou growls. “Dick.” Kirishima’s eyes widen.
“Who?” He says to Bakugou. Bakugou rolls his eyes.
“Shindo, who the fuck else?” Kirishima’s jaw tightens for a second before turning to the group, snatching a remote and pausing the movie.
“Hey! This is y/n. She’s really nice so try not to scare her off.” They introduce you to their friends, Denki, Mina, and Sero. “She’s a transfer.” They greet you, someone hands you a drink and you settle in an empty bean bag chair. Kirishima sits next to you, his face a little flushed.
“Hey,” He says quietly. “Did you read my texts or did Bakugou just spirit you up here to make me happy?” You blink at him.
“Um I didn’t read them.” you confess. “I just, people make me so nervous.” He nods.
“I can tell.” He looks away. “I was pretty excited to be partnered with you. I uh, I’ve missed everything we were supposed to be learning in class because I keep staring at you.”
“You’re drunk.” You say and he shrugs.
“Catch up.” You hit him lightly on the back of the head,
“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” He laughs and slips an arm around you.
“We have an understanding.” He leans over, “And honestly I think he likes you too.” You make a decision and down your drink quickly, then settle into the crook of his arm. He moves you, so that you’re flush against his side. You look around nervously but Sero and Mina are full on making out and ignoring the movie, Denki’s fallen asleep. You feel his breath on your ear and your neck erupts in goosebumps. “Can I get you another drink?” You nod, face burning. You turn your face and meet his eyes, for just a moment. “Hey, Bakugou, can you pass me that?” Kirishima points to the half empty bottle of vodka. You’d almost forgotten the blonde. Bakugou is lying on his bed, but he gets up, grabbing it and a plastic bottle of fruit juice. He sits down slowly on the other side of the beanbag chair with a grunt, taking your red plastic cup from you and dumping the rest of the cranberry juice in it. Kirishima gets on his side, resting his head in one of his palms. You mimic his movements, snuggling into his hard chest. Bakugou rolls his eyes and pours less than one shot into your cup. You pout.
“What? You don’t need more to drink.” He grumbles. You take the cup from him, and sip it.
“This is basically just juice!” You complain and you feel Kirishima groan softly as you push up a little on the beanbag chair to get closer to Bakugou, inadvertently pressing your ass against his crotch. He takes one of your hips in his huge hand, reaching under your hoodie, fingers digging into your soft flesh.
“I said you don’t need any more to drink.” Bakugou snaps. “I’ve got half a goddamn mind to take that from ya,” he eyes the cup, “And just get you both water.” Kirishima’s hand travels up under your hoodie, pushing your tank top up to rest on your waist. You give Bakugou your best, brattiest smile, and tip the cranberry juice drink into your mouth, chugging it and then handing him your empty cup. He smiles evilly and cocks his head to one side. “Brat. You’ll pay for that.” You shrug, feeling Kirishima start to rub circles into your skin, to draw your body closer to his.
“You should be nicer to him.” Kirishima says, as Bakugou climbs onto the beanbag chair, laying down and facing you. He watches your face carefully as Kirishima’s hand moves lower, under the elastic band of your shorts. You can feel his swelling erection rubbing against your ass. “He calls the shots around here, baby.” He parts your folds with two fingers and you feel your face warm as he drags his fingers lazily across your slit. He presses gently, experimentally, on your clit and your mouth drops open, sucking a sharp breath.
Bakugou’s lips crash down on yours, muffling the sweet hiccuping moan that would have escaped your lips as Kirishima starts to circle your clit with one calloused hand. His kiss is hot, searing, and he swipes your lips with his tongue before slipping it between them, keeping you quiet in the darkness as the others watch the movie intently. He guides you carefully, cupping your face in expert hands, while Kirishima locks your body against his with one arm wrapped under your ribs, and tortures you with the other.
“She’s so wet.” He whispers. “When’s the last time anyone touched you, baby?” He coos. Of course you don’t answer, you can’t, as he dips a finger into your aching core, and you bite down hard on Bakugou’s lip. You taste blood and the blonde pulls away from you, something wild in his eyes. You get out half a gasp before his mouth is back on yours, this time he reaches for your body, you hear your hoodie unzip. He reaches under your sweatshirt, palming your breasts, grunting softly. You hold onto his arms, digging little half moons in the contours of his bicep.
“You’re so fuckin’ soft.” He says into your mouth. “Gonna be a good girl and stay quiet for me?” You nod, Anything, anything as long as Kirishima didn’t stop fucking you with his fingers, pressing against that one bundle of nerves in a way that was making your eyes roll and your face hot. You can feel him grinding his hard cock against your ass. Bakugou lifts your tank top over your shirt and pulls your breasts out of your bra. “Nice tits.” He groans, before taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking hungrily.
“She’s gonna cum.” Kirishima warns, and it’s true you can feel that tight coil in your stomach, feel the muscles in your thighs tense, as you near your release. To your dismay, Bakugou chuckles.
“Nah, she doesn’t need it yet.” He moves back up into your eyeline. “In case you’re too stupid to understand that, you’re not allowed to cum yet, got it.” You meet his intense gaze and he rolls his eyes and covers your mouth with his free hand. “I wanna see you fuckin’ cry for it.” You flex your feet, squirming against Kirishima as you reach our and hold onto Bakugou’s muscled forearms. You feel his breath, hot on your ear. “C’mon bitch.” He growls. “I said I wanted to see you cry.” Kirishima drags his thrumb roughly across your clit and you nearly lose it, screwing up your face in concentration.
“Aw,” Kirishima coos. “She wants to be a good girl so bad, Katsuki.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re doing so well, baby.” Bakugou grabs your jaw roughly, holding it so tightly that you’re forced to part your lips, panting like a dog. Your eyes start to water, it hurts, it hurts so badly, you just want to cum, you’ll do anything, you’re desperate for it. Your lower lip trembles as the first tear rolls down your cheek, disappearing into the fabric of the beanbag chair.
“Harder.” Bakugou orders, and you can see him palming his cock with his free hand through his pants. For a second you think he’s talking to you but when Kirishima picks up the pace you realize you were wrong, he watches you tremble. “You look fucking pathetic.” He snarls. “What would you give me, to cum, right now?”
“Anything.” You breathe, eyes watering. “Anything you wanted.” He grins again, that same wildness in his eyes before he spits in your open mouth.
“Swallow.” He commands, still speaking lowly enough so that his friends, apparently incredibly stoned, can’t here. “Then cum for me, bitch.” You release the coil you’d been holding and your whole body spasms as wave after wave of pleasure hits you, Kirishima carefully carries you through your high. You’re vaguely aware, on some level, of how you’re gushing around his fingers, of his little groan,
“Shit, she clenches so hard when she cums.” Kirishima breathes. Bakugou’s mouth is pressed against yours, muffling the desperate moan that comes from deep within you. Your hands shake as you grab fistfuls of his t-shirt and hold on for dear life. When your vision clears you’re on your back between the two men. Kirishima is brushing the hair softly off your forehead, and Bakugou is pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your cheek. “Is your room empty, baby?” Kirishima asks and you nod, unable to speak yet. “Should we go there?” You nod again and try to stand, feeling how sticky your shorts have become, the drying slick on your thighs.
“Wait!” Kirishima says and your knees give out. Bakugou catches you easily, lifting you in his arms and rolling his eyes.
“Don’t try and walk after cumming like that, stupid.” He says, shaking his head. They walk down to your empty dorm room, where when they flick the lights on, your long forgotten mug of hot chocolate is on the window sill, probably ice cold.
“This is so cute!” Kirishima coos. “You know I’ve had a crush on you all semester.” He smoothes out your baby blue comforter. “It’s not exactly how I’ve imagined it, but it’s so you.” Bakugou deposits you on the bed.
“Knew there was a reason you had no fuckin’ clue what was happening in that class.” He looks at you. “When you can talk again he’s gonna need a goddamn tutor, so I hope we didnt fuck anything in there,” he taps your forehead, “up permanently.” Kirishima looks sheepish and Bakugou continues. “But if you’re not talkin’ I can think of much better uses for your mouth.” You nod, and clear your throat with a high pitched grunt.
“You uh,” you look at Kirishima. “You like me?”
“I may or may not have begged the professor to pair us together for this project.” You giggle.
“Oi, sorry,” Bakugou snaps. “I meant suck my fuckin’ dick.” You flush, embarassed, he sits on your chair, unzipping his pants and putting one of your pillows at his feet. “Crawl.” He says pointing lazily at his feet. You slip all the way out of your hoodie before obliging.
“She’s really so good,” Kirishima coos, “I knew that attitude was all an act, right, baby, you just wanna make us feel good, right?” You barely hear him, Bakugou’s taken his dick out of his pants and there’s no other word for it, it’s pretty. Long and thick, the head a deep pink and dripping with precum.
“Yeah.” You say softly, before taking the tip of him in your mouth, giving it a little kitten lick to clean the precum off of it before taking as much of it as you can, drooling sloppily on his lap. He groans.
“Fuck, yeah princess, just like that,” He catches your eyes, “Love the way your lips look on my fat fuckin’ cock, look up at me, like that.” He looks up, putting one hand on the back of your head, setting a pace for you, forcing you just a little farther with each thrust. “What are you waiting for, shitty hair?” He growls. “Just gonna watch?” Kirishima runs his fingers through his hair and glances at Bakugou’s hands, tangled in your hair, “Awww,” Bakugou makes the sweetest sound his gravel allows, “You were waiting for permission, like a good boy.” Kirishima nods.
“Y-yes, sir.” He says.
“Take her shorts off.” Bakugou orders, leaning back in your fold up chair, the canvas groaning.” You lovinging flick your tongue over the underside of his cock. He pulls you back off of him though and speaks, “Green means go, yellow means slow down, red means stop. If you tap me,” He says, tapping his own thigh, in case you were too stupid to understand that, “I will stop. Understand?” You nod. “Say it.” He says gruffly.
“I understand.” You say, and he reaches down, parting your soft lips with his thumb. You suck it hungrily and he smiles when you scrape your teeth against the pad of his finger.
“Get back to work.” He orders, and you do, taking as much of him as you can, concentrating on keeping your throat relaxed, swelling with pride at every little groan you elicit from his mouth. Kirishima kneels behind you, letting out a soft whine as he rubs the head of his cock against your slit.
“She’s so wet,” Kirishima moans, ‘Can, can I please fuck her, please?” Bakugou takes his eyes off yours for a moment, not releasing the back of your head.
“Have you been a good fuckin’ boy?” He asks huskily. Kirishima nods emphatically. “Hmmm,” Bakugou rumbles, closing his eyes in pleasure as you drool on his cock. “What do you think,” he grabs you by the hair and pulls you off his dick, “Want him to fuck you?” You turn around and look at him, and gasp a little. He’s so big, the biggest you’ve ever seen, wide and long, at least 8 inches, purple tipped and dripping with precum. He’s pumping himself slowly. You turn back to Bakugou.
“I-Is it gonna hurt, daddy?” You ask, the title slipping from your lips like water. Bakugou’s dick twitches in front of your face.
“He can go slow, for you,” Bakugou growls, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Make sure she’s prepped dumbass.” He nods at Kirishima, and you move to keep sucking Bakugou’s cock but he catches your face. “I wanna watch you take it.” He says gruffly, savoring the way your eyes widen at the pressure, and then the stretch, and then the pain, as Kirishima gently eases inside of you. He waits to move until he hears your sharp little gasp, your mouth dropping open and saliva dribbling down your chin. Bakugou grins, taking the chance to force himself back in your mouth, focusing on his own orgasm now, grabbing a fistful of your hair and setting his own pace. This time it’s impossible to relax, if you could concentrate on anything it would be the pleasant pain of Kirishima rutting his huge cock against your soft walls, but Bakugou forces your head all the way up his length, so that your nose is pressed to the blonde tuft of hair at his stomach.
“Fuck,” Kirishima says harshly, “She got even tighter when you did that,” he picks up the pace a little and you see stars. Bakugou starts fucking your throat in earnest now, groaning, fingers tearing through your hair.
“Take it, bitch,” He growls, when he sees your eyes start to water as you gag, “Fuck yeah, baby just like that, you like this?” He looks at Kirishima, blushy and glossy eyed as he snaps his hips against your ass. “You like gettin’ fuckin’ spitroasted like some dirty fuckin’ whore, huh?” There’s no way for you to respond, not with your jaw aching, not as his thrusts become erratic and he slams himself all the way down your throat again. You feel him start to explode in your throat, but then he pulls out, coating your face in his cum and leaning back in your chair. “Good girl,” he breathes while you gag and sputter, “Good fuckin’ girl.” He sighs heavily. “You look so good like this, daddy’s desperate little slut, arentcha?”
“Y-yes daddy.” You say with the first lungful of sweet air you’re able to get. “Oh god,” you choke out as Kirishima starts going even faster, hitting your g-spot with every thrust, hitting every spot, even now, it hurt a little, he was so, so big. Bakugou leans forward and pushes down on your shoulders so that you’re down on your elbows, forcing your back into a harsher arch. With nothing to muffle your sounds they spill from your lips like water, “K-kirishima,” you moan, and he laughs, slapping your ass lightly.
“So what, he’s daddy and I’m Kirishima?”
“Sounds right to me.” Bakugou says threateningly, from your chair, reaching out to brush the hair out of your face, surprisingly gently. “Do you want to cum again, bitch?” He asks and you nod vigourously. “Use your words.” He snaps.
“Yes, daddy, wanna cum please.” You look up at him, eyes wide.
“Do you deserve to cum?” He asks and you nod without thinking.
“Please, please let me, I’ll, I’ll do whatever you want I-” The words come out of your mouth so quickly that he laughs at you.
“So fuckin’ eager to please,” He taunts, “You wanna be a good girl so badly, don’t you, just wanna be daddy’s good slut?”
“F-fuck.” Kirishima groans, kneading at your ass, grabbing your hips and fucking you butally, your knees give out, “She got so tight when you said that, keep going, please,” he begs,
“You like when I tell you you’re a slut huh?” Bakugou rasps, grinning at your stupid fucked out expression, “You look so good covered in my cum, bitch, such a good little cocksleeve, just a sweet little cunt on legs.” Kirishima reaches down and pinches your clit between two fingers and you keen, “You can cum, cocksleeve.” Bakugou orders and Kirishima rakes his nails down your back as you come undone beneath him with a soft cry, a choked sob.
“I’m close.” Kirishima whines, “Where should I-”
“On her.” Bakugou says. “I wanna see my pretty little bitch covered in our cum.” You look up at that. “That’s right, baby, you’re my fucking bitch now.” Kirishima pulls out, his hot release spurting all over your back as your whole body trembles. Kirishima collapses on the floor next to you but Bakugou reaches into his pocket, grabs his phone and snaps a picture. “You look so good all fucked out.” He says. “Don’t move, dumbasses.” He gets up, fixing his pants and then leaves. You hear your door close and turn your head to Kirishima.
“Hi.” You say very quietly. He smiles at you.
“You okay?” You nod. “We’ll take good care of you.” He coos, “Aftercare is important. He’s right, by the way, you look so fucking good like this.” He takes you in, swollen lips, and glossy eyes, watery black lines on your cheeks from the last remnants of your eye makeup. He reaches over, dipping two fingers into the cum on your back and then pushing them between your lips. You lick them clean and he beams at you. “Such a good girl!” You warm with pride at the praise. You hear the door open and Bakugou comes back. He squats beside you.
“C’mere.” He grunts, carefully, gently wiping your face with a warm washcloth, and when your face is clean he kisses your forehead and hands the towel to Kirishima, who cleans off your back. He cups your face in both of his hands.
“Good girl.” Bakugou says gruffly. “Gonna lie down with us, let us take care of ya a little?” You nod and Bakugou climbs into your twin bed, flattening himself against the wall. Kirishima lifts you, laughing at your humiliating attempt at walking.
“You might have a limp tomorrow.” He says brightly. “But maybe not! Not everyone does.” Bakugou takes your body, angling it against his, and Kirishima lies down, facing the two of you, giving Bakugou a sweet tender kiss before throwing his phone at the lightswitch, effectively engulfing the room in darkness.
“That better not have broken your shit, dumbass.” Bakugou grumbles, as Kirishima slips a leg in between yours. “You got a case for your shit yet?” Kirishima freezes.
“Oh fuck,” he yawns, “Oops. Set an alarm for me?” Bakugou nods. “You okay?” Kirishima asks you again, scrutinizing your face.
“Yeah,” you sigh happily. “Tired.”
“Go to sleep.” Bakugou says. “Both of you. It’s late as fuck.” You close your eyes, focusing on the soft breathing of the two men holding you, feeling safe, and warm and comfortable.
It’s much, much later when you stir. You’re sleeping on top of Bakugou’s chest and Kirishima is spooning you, with his face buried in his boyfriend’s neck. There’s a knocking at your door.
“Hey,” you hear, “Hey, you up, I know you’re in there.” You move a little and Bakugou is awake immediately, anchoring you to his chest with one arm.
“Someone’s here?” You whisper. “I don’t know.” Kirishima gets up and rubs his eyes.
“I’ll check it out.” He opens the door in his boxers. “Oh, hey Shindo?”
“I-is, y/n there?” Kirishima grins.
“Yeah, but it’s 3AM. She’s real tired, if you get my drift.”
“Fuck you.” Shindou spits, slamming the door in Kirishima’s face, he bursts out laughing.
“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugou growls, shifting you to the far side of his chest and reaching an arm out for Kirishma. “Do you know what goddamn time it is?” He pulls the slightly larger boy into him. “She’s gotta tutor you tomorrow.” Kirishima sighs with happiness.
“Then we gotta take her on a real date.” You open your eyes. “Wanna go to olive garden?”
“No.” You and Bakugou say at the same time. “Go the fuck to sleep!”
if u enjoyed this fic please consider reblogging/leaving me a comment! It helps me know what people like so i know what to write more of <3