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“Oi hair for brains my eyes are up here.”
Bakugo slams the locker shut forcing Kirishima’s eyes to snap up to meet Bakugou’s face.
“Ah sorry man,” Kirishima stammers with a nervous chuckle, as his hand nervously rakes through his red spikes “Uhh must’a zoned out or something.”
Bakugou’s eyes search Kirishima’s quickly flushing face before he scoffs at the blatant lie. Without another word the blond heads for the exit, leaving the redhead alone in the locker room.
Kirishima can’t help but watch him leave. His face flushing brighter than his hair at the smirk he catches as his friend calls back to him over his shoulder.
“Hurry the fuck up, I’m not getting partnered with Dunce Face again.”
Kirishima waits till Bakugou rounds the corner before letting out a long exhale. Shit, this was the third time this week Bakugou had caught Kirishima watching him put on his hero suit. Kirishima really tried to hide his desire for his best friend, honestly; but it wasn’t easy. Especially when the blond slid on those sleeved gloves that accentuated his biceps, or that skin tight top that hugged his slim waist perfectly and stretched against his chiseled chest. Those weren’t even the real problem for poor Kirishima. God himself couldn’t keep Kirishima’s eyes from wandering as Bakugou strapped on that damn garter belt.
Kirishima’s mind reeled every time the item was brought out of Bakugou’s costume case. It was always the last item Bakugou put on before leaving the locker room; and the one that kept Kirishima firmly planted on the bench long after the blond had left the room. Even though Kirishima only needed half the time of the other boys to get changed; he had quickly learned that if he wanted to stick around to watch Bakugou slide the leather straps up his clothed legs, he’d have to pretend to take an exuberant amount of time either putting on his arm bands, his face mask, or simply buckling up the cape that adorned his waist. This is a much harder task than one would think considering Kirishima’s costume contained less pieces than his classmates. Today for instance he had feigned a faulty clip on one of his shoulder gears in order to watch the little show.
Kirishima’s poor gay heart was truly tested today. He and Bakugou had gotten caught up studying after class and had been the last to enter the locker rooms before training. This led to them being left alone to finish getting changed as their classmates left to gather on the training grounds. Kirishima finished dressing rather quicker than he intended so he elected to sit on the bench while fiddling with his shoulder gear to allow Bakugou time to finish dressing. Bakugou propped his foot up on the bench next to Kirishima so he could tighten his laces; and Kirishima could feel his heart rate begin to kick up as repetition had taught him that next to be adorned was the garter belt.
Continuing to fiddle with the gear he watched out of the corner of his eye as Bakugou pulled the piece from his case. He could feel his temperature rise as Bakugou stepped into the first leather loop. Typically Bakugou would step into both loops at the same time. Today however he placed his foot back up on the bench before slowly sliding the strap up to his thigh. Kirishima couldn’t help but hold his breath as he watched Bakugou’s fingers tighten the material so it pressed the fabric of his pants tight to his leg.
His eyes followed as Bakugou lowered his foot before performing the same precise routine with the second thigh loop. Kirishima, completely lost in thought, failed to correct his gaze and followed Bakugou’s hands as they flattened the leather straps that connected the two loops to the belt portion down. He had only just stopped himself from licking his lips as he watched Bakugou buckle the leather belt around his hips when he was snapped back to reality by a locker slamming shut next to his head.
Kirishima remained seated on the bench for another beat after Bakugou left. Allowing his heart beat to clear from his ears. Shifting to stand, Kirishima freezes as he suddenly realizes his dick is straining against the fabric of his pants. Shit, had Bakugou noticed? No, no he couldn’t have, the gear had been laying over his lap. Panic and embarrassment set in as Kirishima runs to the closest stall to rid himself of the erection before shoving the gear over his shoulder and following Bakugou out to the field.
Training was thankfully uneventful as Kirishima was too busy shielding his face from Bakugou’s blast to have a chance to get caught staring at the way the blonde’s muscles glistened. Between the episode before training and the adrenaline that flooded his veins with each blast, Kirishima knew he wouldn’t be able to survive seeing Bakugou slip out of his hero costume after training. Kirishima rushed ahead after Mr. Aizawa excused the class and nearly ripped the fabric of his costume as he hastily changed. He can feel another erection forming and he nearly barrels over Bakugou on his way out of the locker room before sprinting to his dorm. The way the muscles of the blonde’s neck twitch in irritation at being run into doesn’t help Kirishima’s current situation so a brief apology is all he manages.
Kirishima tumbles into his room, feeling the adrenaline and frustration flowing through him as he slams his back against his bedroom door. After a few calming breaths, he throws his bag in the corner before moving to sit at his desk. He needs to get rid of some of this frustration before he pops another boner in front of his best friend. He buried his face in his hands. How could he be so stupid? He has got to get this under control.
He flips his computer monitor on, shifting to make himself comfortable in the desk chair. It isn’t the best place for what he’s about to do but he can’t risk having that kind of search history on his phone. Scrolling through the images on his screen he finally settles on one that seems promising.
Kirishima analyses the body on the screen. The man’s thighs aren’t nearly as muscled nor is his waist as trim, but the thick black leather straps that wind around them are a near perfect match to Kirishima’s actual fixation. He’s in luck too, this image isn’t censored like many of the others he has used in the past. The dick shown on the screen however isn’t nearly as nice as he imagines Bakugou’s, but it’ll do. Kirishima always did have a very active imagination and the small details can be easily overlooked; especially with such a fresh image of the real thing in his mind. He zooms in the image, ensuring to crop the man’s face out of view before working to free his growing member from his pants. After taking off his shirt to use for clean up, he slouches down in the chair, spreading his legs and takes himself into his hand.
He analyzes the picture once more, easily redesigning it to fit the loud blonde before slowly stroking up and down his length. The feel has his head falling back to thump against the chair back, eyes lidded as his imagination takes over. He bites at his bottom lip, stifling a moan as he imagines the blonde’s weight settling over his spread thighs. Bakugou is fully exposed, except for that damn dark green leather garter belt and a pair of solid black silk thigh high socks trimmed in orange. Kirishima can almost feel his callused hands sliding up Bakugou’s thighs to grab at the leather that bites into the soft skin of the blonde’s inner thigh.
Bakugou’s legs spread a bit wider at the touch, as he straddles Kirishima’s thighs. Kirishima moves to play with the straps that connect the loop to the belt and can almost feel the soft fabric stretch as he pulls it up before letting it snap back against the blonde’s skin. The action causes the blonde to shiver. His hand continues the slow drag up and down his length as he traces his hardened fingers up Bakugou’s legs to where the straps meet the belt. He feels the heat begin to pool in his gut as he slides his fingers under the belt, jerking the harness roughly to pull the blonde closer. His own thighs squeeze as he imagines Bakugou’s weight sliding up towards his groin, cocks nearly brushing against one another. He feels another spike of pleasure run through him as he admires the way the blonde’s perfect erection bobs at the quick movement. The image alone has Kirishima’s toes curling in the carpet as he nears his release.
“What the fuck?”
Kirishima’s eyes snap open as his head reels from being snatched back to reality so unceremoniously. He frantically searches for the source of the question before his vision lands on the intense red eyes of his best friend standing in the doorway.
“Shit… Bakugou? What are…. I…. Shit… Its not…..Crap…..”
Kirishima stammers as he fumbles out of his chair, knocking it over in his haste to shove his dick back in his pants. Bakugou stands frozen, gear in hand as his eyes follow the tornado of movement in front of him. Kirishima continues to stutter out half nonsense as he scrambles for his shirt, nearly missing what Bakugou says next.
“… forgot your stupid shoulder thing in the locker room” Bakugou responds flatly, eyes flipping from the flustered red head to the computer screen on the desk. Without another word he tosses the gear on top of Kirishima’s bag in the corner, a small knowing smirk forming. Kirishima follows Bakugou’s eyes; and hastily flips off the monitor. Embarrassment flashes across his face before he freezes once more under the blonde’s intense gaze. Neither say a word and after what seems like an eternity Bakugou turns to leave, the smirk lost to Kirishima’s panic stricken mind.
The snap of the door breaks every seam of resolve Kirishima has left. He has never been so embarrassed in his life. Fuck of course it had to be Bakugou that walked in. No way he’d just seen what Kirishima had just been jerking off too. Shit there was no way he could face Bakugou again. Crap what should he do now? Was it too early to go over to Bakugou’s room and apologize? Could he even survive the judgmental looks he was sure to get? Maybe he should just text him and apologize.
Kirishima snatches his phone from the desk before sitting on the edge of his bed. He clicks to his text thread with Bakugou and pauses over the keyboard unsure of what to say. Should he just outright apologize or come up with an excuse? Would Bakugou even listen to what he had to say? Over and over he types out a string of jumbled apologies before deleting them to try out another combination of words.
Nausea threatens as his hands shakily type out another attempt at a message when three little dots has his stomach dropping. His motions freeze as he waits; waits to be told off, told he just lost his best friend. Kirishima waits for his fate nervously and after an agonizing few seconds a new message pops up.
“I better not ever fucking catch you jacking off to those cheap imitations again”
Instantly Kirishima’s stomach bottoms out as overwhelming fear washes through him. His ears ring with the pounding of his heart and he nearly drops his phone as if it had been suddenly heated to a thousand degrees. Unable to move he simply stares at the message; reading and rereading it over and over. He is so hyper aware that the following text alerts nearly cause him to crush his phone between half hardened fingers.
“When you can get off to the real thing”
Kirishima is so disarrayed by the message he nearly misses the video file that follows. A mix of panic and disbelief has Kirishima clicking on the video before he even fully registers what the message says.
There is no sound but Kirishima wouldn’t have been able to hear anything anyways over how loud his heart was pounding in his ears. It began with the screen refocusing as a gloved hand is removed from over the camera so the viewer can see a body in clear view. The person in the video is situated on the floor of a small bathroom propped up on all fours with their arms crossed in front of them, just barely covering up their naked form. At this angle Kirishima can only really see their shoulders at the top of the screen and their knees on either side of their arms that are centered in view. They are wearing long black gloves with a sleek orange trim that come up to just below their biceps and what appears to be metal knee pads. Realization suddenly slams into Kirishima full force.
This isn’t just a video Bakugou had found on the internet but a video of the explosive teen himself. Kirishima can feel the saliva pool in his mouth as Bakugou shifts his weight back while sliding his crossed arms along the floor until he is sitting back on his heels. His fingertips just barely kissing the floor. It only takes a second before Kirishima is nearly choking on his own spit as he realizes that other than the gloves, knee pads and what appears to be the famous green leather garter belt Bakugou is completely exposed. Bakugou’s face is out of frame but a few blonde spikes peek into view as he lowers his weight to the balls of his feet.
Bakugou’s bare chest flexes and twists on the screen; captivating Kirishima’s gaze. Kirishima swallows thickly as he scans the bits of green leather hugging the blonde’s thighs, peeking out from either side of his arms. His eyes glued as Bakugou slowly uncrosses his arms to reveal his erect cock in clear view. His heart skips as he takes in the slim curve and flushed head bobbing against tight abs. Bakugou’s knees are spread to either side, the metal knee guards reflecting against the tiled bathroom floor, allowing for an uninhibited view. The blonde moves to drag his gloved fingertips up his bare thighs, stopping at the lower loops of the garter belt on either side to finger over the soft leather; before continuing upwards. His hands follow the straps up, the muscles of his thighs shivering at the ginger touch. This causes his member to twitch slightly and drool to fill Kirishima’s mouth.
Kirishima can’t help but swallow again when he notices that Bakugou has left the grenades attached at the hips. As the blonde nears the belt section, one of his hands slowly glides up his abs to pinch at his nipple while the other slides down to grip at his base. Kirishima watches in awe as Bakugou’s hand strokes up and down his length as his other twists and pulls at the sensitive nub.
Kirishima’s gaze flips between the way Bakugou’s muscles strain against the leather harness and his hands steadily pushing the blonde towards the edge. He holds his breath as he watches Bakugou’s abs tense each time he rubs over the head of his dick; his breath hitching each time his best friend’s hips jut forward at a particularly hard twist of his nipple. Bakugou must be getting close as his pace begins to quicken and his hips seem to absent mindedly thrust with each drag of his gloved hand. He watches as the blonde’s hand rapidly strokes his length a few more times, slamming down to his base a mere heartbeat before he spills over causing thick ropes of cum to splatter onto the bathroom tile.
Bakugou gives a few more slow pulls as the video goes black and Kirishima finally releases the breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding. A few more deep breaths allow him to finally float back into his body and he suddenly realizes his own thighs are slick with cum. He had come completely undone without a single touch; like a literal wet dream. Deciding to deal with it later he hastily presses play on the video once more. More to ensure the video was real and he hadn’t imagined the whole thing. Half way through re-watching the clip, for the second time, a text alert finally snaps Kirishima’s attention away.
“Stop jacking off and come fuck me dumbass.”
Kirishima’s jaw nearly hits the floor as he rereads the message four times before scrambling out of his dorm. Not even bothering to change out of his cum soaked bottoms, and not even sure if he’s dreaming or not; there’s no way he’s about to let anything stop him from making fantasy a reality.