“What were you doing with the bunny suit Bakugō?” Kirishima asks, trying to stay focused on the here and now and not about how Bakugō somehow tastes sweet and spicy at the same time. His stomach flips from how Bakugō’s flush spreads to his neck. 

“None of your business,” Bakugō tries to snap, but it comes out more like a whimper. Kirishima’s cock twitches. 

“I mean, the suit’s my responsibility until I return it to Aizawa-sensei…” Kirishima forces himself to pull away from Bakugō and he reaches down for the discarded suit. He doesn’t count on Bakugō doing the same and their hands brush.

The contact sends blood south and Kirishima pulls back as if burned. Bakugō manages to scoop up the bunny suit. 

“Let me fucking wash it first.” Bakugō mutters, looking down and away from him. 

Kirishima’s brain reboots again. 

Why would he need to wash the suit? As much as I’ve asked, he’s never done laundry for me… Unless he– no, no way! 

**

Bakugō wishes a villain would attack the school right now. 

Anything would be better than having this conversation that Kirishima insists on having. He’ll be double damned if he says he was wearing the damn thing. Forget addressing that he was masturbating. But there’s a determined glint to Kirishima’s eyes that means he’s like a dog that’s found his bone. 

“Since it’s… dirty, can I make a request?” Kirishima asks, eyes still ablaze.

“What the fuck are you on, shitty hair?” Bakugō asks, stomach twisting. It doesn't take a genius to know what Kirishima’s thinking. 

“Well, there was a suit for you to wear too, but you were the only one that didn’t… Since my suit is here and you–”

“I what ?” Bakugō practically growls.

“Try on the suit, Bakugō,” Kirishima says, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. It draws Bakugō’s attention to Kirishima’s lower half. 

He blinks a few times but the sight of Kirishima’s (sizable) chub doesn’t go away. In fact, the longer he stares, the more defined his cock becomes. It makes Bakugō’s cunt quiver. 

“And why would I do that?” He hates how breathless he sounds, but all he can think about is what Kirishima is so obviously packing. He knew it would be big, but not this big. His cunt clenches so hard it almost hurts. 

“Since I asked so nicely,” Kirishima replies, flashing those sharp teeth that Bakugō’s convinced he knows the effect they have on him. 

His tone reminds him of the first time they really talked. When Kirishima claimed he’d be unwavering. The nostalgia must get to him because he lets out a frustrated huff and says, “Turn around.”

Kirishima does, so fast that Bakugō feels a breeze, one that smells of musk and Kirishima. He could easily get drunk on his scent. Almost in a daze, Bakugō changes into the suit, trying to ignore how wet he is. There’s no way there won’t be a wet spot, but Bakugō figures since things are going this far, it doesn’t matter. 

He clears his throat when he has the blasted thing on and unlike before, Kirishima doesn’t rush to turn back around. He turns almost as if in slow motion, as if savoring the moment. It makes Bakugō’s heart quicken. 

When Kirishima turns around fully, Bakugō watches as his mouth drops open and his eyes widen. He can’t help but drop his gaze to the front of Kirishima’s shorts. If possible, it looks like Kirishma’s erection is larger. His throat feels dry but he forces the words out. 

“Well, shitty hair?” He even throws his arms up as if to say ‘get an eyeful.’

And boy, does Kirishima get an eyeful.