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“... and ten! Great job Midoriya!” Kirishima cheers as he helps Midoriya rack the barbells he just benched. “You’re getting more sets in which I like man! You’re going to see results if you keep working hard like this!” He hands Midoriya a towel as the green haired powerhouse flashes him a cheeky grin from behind sweaty curls.
“Thanks Kiri! I honestly don’t know what I would do without you!” Midoriya lifts his leg over the bench to face Kirishima, tossing the drenched towel over his shoulder. “Honestly, getting you as a personal trainer really made all the difference in my workout routine.” He grins a megawatt smile up at Kiri, making him blink.
Huh. Okay. Midoriya’s grin could block out the sun. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to it.
“I might even win the championship this year! Maybe I’ll even go up a weight class!” Kiri laughs and ruffles Midoriya's dark hair.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself dude!” Midoriya is really making gains, but Kiri knows there is a fine line between pushing clients just past their limits and going so hard that they injure themselves. Midoriya will figure that out in time, but it was up to Kiri to guide him in the right direction. “You made an appointment with the gym’s nutritionist right?”
With a gasp Midoriya turns pink. His smile wilting at the corners and the flush runs right up to his hairline. That sunshine smile melts straight off his face.
Uh-oh! Kiri feels like he just kicked a puppy.
“I uh -- w-well about that… um.” Midoriya fiddles with his fingers, touching the tips together in embarrassment and lowers his voice. Kiri leans closer in concern. What the hell could make driven, focused, Midoriya skip out on something so important? “I uh, w-went to go make the a-appointment yesterday and well… I, uh realized...” His face lights up bright red. “I matched with him on Tinder last w-week and uh we … sent some photos and texts and now I can’t look at him in the face! I didn’t know it was him!”
Midoriya looks shattered. His breath heaving in and out of him in quick pants. “W-what if he knows?!”
Kiri’s eyes go wide and he throws his head back in a laugh. Oh dear god! Only Midoriya would have this problem! Of course Todorki’s gonna know. There aren’t a lot of people out there with forest green body hair! He laughs so hard tears stream out of the corners of his eyes. Kiri holds his aching sides as he sputters out an “are you kidding me?”
He mops his eyes with the back of his hand attempting to catch his breath. This is the funniest thing he’s ever heard!
“Look bro, that’s awkward. There’s no way around it. But if you wanna capitalize on the gains you’re making, and go up a weight class, you’re gonna have to talk to him.” He laughs and grabs Midoriya by the shoulders, giving him a good shake. “So do we have a deal? You’ll talk to Todoroki and act professional even though you saw his junk?” He grins conspiratorially watching Midoriya's fluffy hair sway. “Besides, maybe you two will hit it off, huh?”
The petrified expression gets a little lopsided with each shake, and Midoriya's eyes soften. Kiri lifts his knuckles and raises a brow. Kiri know’s Midoriya isn't one to back down from a challenge. He just needed a pep talk! And that’s what Kiri is here for!
Midoriya stands and lifts a scarred fist to dap with Kiri’s tanned one, a wry smile twisting his lips and their fist’s meet solidly.
“Fine. But if I crash and burn terribly you owe me a case of protein shakes. The good kind! No cases of Ensure okay?”
“Deal bro!” Kiri puts a giant hand on Midoriya’s muscled back, shoving him gently in the direction of the customer service counter where he can see the bright flash of Todoroki’s red and white hair. “Now go on!”
Midoriya wrings his hands and minces over to the counter, dragging his feet like someone going to the gallows and not like someone who already virtually hooked up with the smoking hot, long haired, ice prince of Plus Ultra Fitness. No one has ever caught Todoroki’s eye before, but Kiri’s not worried, he’s got a good feeling about those two.
Kiri eyes the definition in Midoriya’s calves, as he walks away, nodding to himself. Damn, Midoriya is looking good. A few more months on this rotation and Kiri could introduce some serious weight lifting to his routine, helping him build up those core and back muscles. He smiles as he watches Midoriya sidle up next to slender Todoroki, as though he could sneak in under the radar and into Todoroki’s consultation schedule unnoticed with that much muscle mass. Yeah right!
He tears his eyes away from the pair as Todoroki smiles down at Midoriya, the ice prince act melting away in the face of Midoriya’s shy smile.
Kiri knew they’d hit it off. Midoriya’s smile could charm the pants off anyone, except the owner Aizawa. No one could say no to that much enthusiasm and energy in such a cute package.
Snagging the disinfectant spray, Kiri wipes down the bench and checks his watch, happy to see that he is running a few minutes early for his next and last appointment before the gym closes for the night. He furtively glances in the mirror, pretending to check his hair but really watching Midoriya turn pink as Todoroki leans down to tug on a stray thread peeking out from the edge of Midoriya’s sleeve. How cute! Kiri wipes a pretend tear from his eye and clutches his heart.
He’s a literal jacked cupid! Maybe he should open a side gig matchmaking?
Nah, being a personal trainer is awesome. Helping people is like the manliest job in the world! Honestly, if he had liked doing more normal school stuff, he might have even gone to nursing school. Nurses were super manly! Those patterned scrubs? Comfy and fashionable. Supportive Crocs to work? Manly as FUCK. Helping people get better every day? That was true hero work.
But he guesses helping people with their gains and working on their flexibility and mobility is good enough work for a cheerful guy like him. There is nothing better than helping a client achieve their goals, whether it be healing from an injury, or getting back into the swing of training after a long absence. It also doesn’t hurt that he gets to work on his own gains on the clock. Getting paid to look good and flex his muscles? Damn, that's the shit.
Kiri gives a sharp toothed grin and double thumbs up to Midoriya in the mirror as he glances over for reassurance, his eyes big and worried in that freckled face.
Nope, there really isn’t anything better than helping people feel strong and look good! And if that includes an extra burst of self confidence for his clients then EVEN BETTER!
For a while though, Kiri thought he wanted to get into bodybuilding. Those days were fun - the bright lights, the tiny bikini bottoms, getting all gussied up to work the crowd, the cheering fans when he struck his signature knuckled touching pose, flexing all his muscles to screams of the audience. He even picked up a bit of a following on the internet!
But in the end he dropped it. The truth was, he loved food too much to try and fast away all those upper layers of fat to get that toned definition. So, here he was, 6”2 and with a cushy layer of fat all over him, happy as a clam. So what if his tummy is a little more round during certain times of the year and his pecs jiggle during his jump rope sets? He’d like to see anyone try to take him in a wrestling match! He is a tank and proud of it. Besides, body building taught him it was all about the angles. And monthly spa dates with Mina for a spray tan and his nails done? HECK YEAH!
A loud commotion breaks out at the front desk and Kiri straightens abruptly. The familiar indistinct hollering and the clatter of falling office supplies hitting the floor sounds just like Bakugo Katsuki, his next appointment. Running early, of course. He sews chaos wherever he goes. He groans and books it over to the weight machines near the check in desk.
Bakugo is a handful as a client. He never quite knows what he's going to get from him during his appointments. Is he going to get pouty Bakugo, who is sullen and silent but works his ass off breaking his records with quiet grunts and nodding at Kirishima’s praise? Or bratty Bakugo, who challenges him at every request, and sasses Kiri when he corrects his form?
It's always whiplash to have Midoriya and Bakugo back to back as clients. Midoriya and Bakugo can’t be any different in shape as well as personality. If Midoriya is a pocket powerhouse, Bakugo is a Greek god. Taller than Midoriya, with long legs and a chiseled upper body. His forearms ripple with corded muscle and his traps -- fucking Kiri hadn’t seen trapezius muscles that defined since the body builder Crimson Riot. Kirishima could write odes to his biceps and triceps. It is always a struggle to get Bakugo to work on anything but his upper body during their sessions. Its obvious he puts a ton of care and attention into that area, because fucking hell its nice to look at.
The best part about his body though? His tits. His pectorals are sculpted and round, with pretty blush pink nipples that peek out at him in increasingly skimpy work out shirts. Every week the cuts under his arms get lower or the hem line shorter. Like the gym’s dress code personally offends him or something. Two weeks ago, Bakugo walked in with a mesh crop top and Kiri had to excuse himself to hide behind the leg curl machine because, HOLY SHIT how was he supposed to be a professional while watching Bakugo’s literal tits throb as he did bar dips?
Kiri swore he was running a fever that day, and it was worth hearing Bakugo scream every time he stepped away to hide his stiffy behind the gym equipment. “Oi! How are you supposed to correct my form from all the way over there shitty hair!!??” became the refrain of the day.
Kiri winces, the high pitched shriek coming from the check in desk pulling him back to the present. For such a low growl, Bakugo sure can screech at a pitch that only dogs can hear when he's mad. Kiri rubs his ear absently. He sounds like he's extra pissed today. Which means Kiri's gotta hustle over there and do some damage control.
“Hey Bakubro! You ready to get your ass kicked today! It's chest day! Your favorite!” Kiri opens his arms wide to make himself the bigger target and draw Bakugo’s attention over to him.
He sure is making some kinda scene. Deku is hiding behind Todoroki, whose face is more impassive than normal -- he actually looks kind of constipated. Mina has her arms crossed over her chest and she is frowning. Even Aizawa has his messy bed head peeking out of his office to see what all the commotion is about. Not too far though, since he doesn’t want Bakugo’s ire trained at him. Bakugo’s eyes are slits as he looks over at Kiri before whipping his head back to Mina. “Fine! But we’re not finished! Your parking lot is shitty! If I get another ding on my car because asshole extras can't park between the fucking crappily painted lines in your lot, I swear to god I’ll sue you.” Mina rolls her eyes as he turns his back on her and stalks toward Kiri.
Yikes, looks like he is getting spicy and sassy Bakugo today. No biggie. Kiri will just keep Bakugo’s heart rate up too high to yell, maybe add a couple of extra pounds to his sets if Bakugo has the energy. That was usually the most effective way to keep Bakugo quiet.
It was really too bad that Bakugo’s personality was so abrasive because he is so fucking attractive. Today he is dressed in obscenely tight yoga pants, the only thing making them decent is the fact that they are mostly black, which disguises the thick curve of his cock. A giant zip up hoodie drapes over his upper body, the stark black contrasting sharply with his pale hair.
“Shitty Hair.” Bakugo addresses him curtly, dropping his gym bag and kicking it over to sit by the big mirrors, the tight cut of his orange and black exercise leggings delineating the strong muscles of his calves and thighs. “Today’s workout better be good. I have an underwear shoot tomorrow and I need to look fucking cut.”
Kiri smiles, his grin enormous as he hears this. Aw, poor Bakugo, no wonder he’s cranky, he’s probably been fasting these last few days to get that definition. Kiri doesn’t think he needs to, he’s so fucking fit and pretty already, but perfection is perfection and Bakugo only asks for the best, especially from himself.
Bakugo’s glare softens to something challenging instead of outright hostility and he looks into Kiri’s eyes. The red orbs are intense as he unzips his oversized hoodie slowly, each inch of smooth skin that is revealed turns up the heat of Bakugo’s stare.
Oh fuck, that look means trouble. Last time he saw it Bakugo had challenged him to a push up contest and then straddled Kiri's back. Kiri had to be extra careful to keep his hips from touching the ground or he might have impaled himself on his own hard on.
Kiri’s eyes follow the slow slide of that maddening zipper. A smirk appears on Bakugo’s lips as the zipper pull gets to the bottom of the teeth and he shoves the hoodie off his bare shoulders revealing a spandex yoga top. The bottom hits just below his ribcage, soft spandex cupping the pecs Kiri has been eyeing for weeks. Mesh cutouts frame the tops of his pectorals and as Bakugo turns to put his hoodie with the rest of his stuff, Kiri yelps. The back is just a series of straps, highlighting the strong planes of his delts, traps and teres muscles.
Bakugo looks good enough to eat. This outfit has one upped every outfit he has ever worn to the gym before. Kiri can feel the drool pooling in his mouth. This is going to be one hell of a work out. Kiri girds his loins preparing to get yelled at for hiding behind the leg press machine again.
“Whassa matter shitty hair? You never seen workout wear before?” Bakugo looks over his shoulder at Kiri. What should be a coy gesture is ruined by the sharp glint of his canines in his feral smile, which sends a hot pulse of lust right to Kiri’s cock.
Focus Eijirou! He’s your client! Not some nameless beefcake in a centerfold!
Uh, wait, didn't Bakugo say that he had an underwear shoot coming up? Maybe he should get the details to keep an eye out for the -- NO FOCUS Ei!
Kiri wastes no time and gets Bakugo started with warming up -- some jump rope, pushups, and some dynamic stretching to get his heart rate up and warm up his muscles for his workout, doing his best to focus on Bakugo’s form and not on the impressive array of flesh on display in the skintight workout wear. Fuck, it is hard not to stare.
As they slowly cycle through the twenty minute warm up, people start filtering out of the gym. Todoroki leaves, escorted by Midoriya. His big scarred hand is hovering over the hollow of the Todoroki's back. Kiri watches them through the mirror as he assigns Bakugo a set of squats. He can only see the curve of Todoroki’s smile from the side as he looks down at Midoriya. Kiri pumps his fist with a silent little “yeah!” getting a harsh “tch” when Bakugo catches him in the act.
Aizawa creeps out, avoiding Bakugo while he’s busy doing push ups, the bright yellow of his sleeping bag tossed over his head as though it would make him look less conspicuous. Mina calls out a quick goodbye before slipping out and locking the door behind her. Leaving just him and Bakugo in the empty gym, the air conditioner a quiet hum and the old building settling with creaks and groans around them as Bakugo goes through cable flys, blasts through his personal record of loaded chest presses and moves on to chest dips.
Kiri eyes the flex of Bakugo’s pecs, each dip up and down sends the muscles rippling under the sheer mesh of his top. Sweat rolls down Bakugo's arms and face.
It should be gross. It should be super duper gross. Bakugo’s soaking wet, hair sticking to his face, harsh breaths loud around them, but Kiri loves it.
He loves the way Bakugo’s face is blush pink with exertion, the way he can smell Bakugo’s clean sweaty scent from where he stands adjacent to him. He can’t help following the trail of sweat as it lovingly rolls down over the definition in his arms as he raises and lowers himself on the horizontal bars -- and oop, there you go -- he’s got a boner.
Kiri casually grabs a large slam ball from the rack nearby, holding it in front of him as he tucks his dick under his waistband as discreetly as he can, while Bakugo wipes his hairline and neck with a towel.
“Great job blasty! I got a modified jump squat for you to round out the workout today and then we can cool down with some stretching.” Kiri grins at the grunt Bakugo tosses at him between chugs of water. Kiri hands Bakugo the slam ball and demonstrates the jump squat and the ball slam movement slowly, highlighting the areas he wants Bakugo to pay attention to supporting and engaging.
Kiri steps back to let Bakugo start, keeping his eyes on the straight line of Bakugo’s back and the tension in his thighs. As Bakugo leaps up his tits bounce.
Fucking hell man, there aren’t enough medicine or slam balls in the entire gym to hide the raging boner he has tucked away into the waistband of his pants. Kiri can feel his cock swelling with every leap of Bakugo’s thighs. When he raises the slam ball up above his head, the cropped spandex top inches higher and higher on his chest revealing more of his cut abs, till it's tucked up tight under his pecs. Kiri can feel his cock leaking precum against his stomach even as his eyes rove over the tight muscles coiling under all that black and orange spandex.
With one last loud slam and a cry, Bakugo finishes his set. He pants heavily, hands over his head to open up his chest, the spandex top straining to contain all the godly perfection in front of Kiri. A soft roar echoes in his ears and he sees that Bakugo’s nipples are hard and follows a trail of sweat as it runs down his neck into the mesh of the top between his pecs.
Fuck Kiri wants to lick them. He wants to slide his dick between the fabric and the sweat soaked skin and fuck into that hollow space until he cums all over Bakugo’s chest. He wants to watch Bakugo open his mouth and --
Oh fuck, Bakugo is talking to him. What did he miss?
“Huh? What?” he blinks rapidly trying to clear the horny haze from his mind.
“I said, the fuck ya’ starin’ at, Shitty Hair?!" Bakugo yells, bending his forearm down behind his head to stretch his tricep. The pose makes his chest look so wide and inviting, the light glistening on all the sweat and all Kiri can think of is -- warm, wet, sticky -- right around his cock. He could feel his jaw dropping as the haze of horniness overcame him. A roiling boil of heat swimming up from his loins in time with the rivulets of sweat rolling down Bakugo's neck to pool in the hollow at his throat.
“I wanna fuck your tits.”
"Excuse me?!”
Oh FUCK! Did he say that out loud? He was so fucked. Bakugo would never let him live it down. He’d complain to Aizawa and get Kiri fired and fuck, oh god--
“Who fuckin' said you'd fuck my tits?! Hah?! If anyone's tits are getting fucked right now it's yours!” Bakugo stalks up to him and Kiri can feel the bottom drop out of his stomach. There is no way what he heard was correct? Bakugo wanted to what?
“Who the hell needs that much muscle anyway?! For what?!” Bakugo’s finger is sharp as it pokes the offending body part, watching it jiggle.
“Why is everyone so fuckin’ obsessed with my chest? You! My manager! The dressers at my shoot! I swear to god!” Bakugo jabs his finger into Kiri’s chest with every exclamation. Kiri's breath stops. Bakugo looks so infuriated, but also insanely hot with sweat running down his face and his chest glistening in the overhead light. Each heave of breath sends sweat rolling between his pecs. “Yeah my chest is hot! I know it! But sometimes a guy wants to be the one titty fuckin’ not the one getting titty fucked.”
Bakugo leans back to cock his weight on his hip, crossing those fucking massive arms across his chest. His expression turns mulish, the slash of his brows pinching in the middle and his pretty wide mouth set in a pout.
“I didn’t come to you just because I thought you could help me get cut as fuck. I came to you because I wanna stick my dick between your tits and make you mouth at my cock head. I'm here ‘cause I’m gonna paint that shitty orange body builder tan of yours white with my cum.” The pout slowly turns into a grin, his bright red eyes are sharp, narrowed and any blood that was in Kiri’s body rushes straight to his groin. Damnit, why is he so mean and so fucking hot?
Kirishima bites his lower lip, eyes crawling up Bakugo’s sculpted form. The saliva pools in his mouth at the idea of those thick thighs he ogled squeezing around his torso. He swallows noisily at the thought, a bead of sweat rolling down his hairline to drop icily down onto his collar bone.
“So whaddya’ say shitty hair? You gonna let me?” Bakugo’s strong hands toy with the straps on his yoga top. His voice is low and raspy with desire. He pulls the edge of his lower lip under a sharp canine, smoothing his hands up and down his abdomen, drawing the top up a little and the tight pants lower with every stroke.
The fabric of Bakugo’s pants slips down revealing the adonis belt that Kiri has been helping him sculpt for the past few weeks. The fine blonde hair below his belly button is almost translucent in the light of the gym. Each rub of Bakugo’s strong fingers sends trails of heat down to Kiri’s groin. It's like he can feel the ghost of Bakugo’s fingers on his own stomach, that's how badly he wants it.
Kiri’s eyes grow large at the bulge swelling in Bakugo’s pants. This gorgeous specimen of a man wants to put his dick between Kiri’s pecs and fuck his face? And he thinks Kiri is going to say no? What kind of person would? Who the fuck would say no to this god?
He nods frantically, sitting up to grab the hair tie around his wrist, tying the long blazing length up in a messy ponytail high on his head so that it won’t get in the way of the most important moment of his life. The movement lengthens his spine and emphasizes the breadth of his chest and shoulders.
Kiri misses the way Bakugo’s eyes devour him, licking his lips and reaching down to rub against the hard length of his cock. Kiri is too busy adjusting the sweatband to keep all the short pieces of his bangs tucked away from his face. He reaches up behind his head and pulls his muscle shirt off, tossing it aside with a plop on the mat nearest to him.
“I’m ready bro!” Kiri flashes his sunshine grin at Bakugo, pressing the knuckles of his fists together to indicate his readiness. Bakugo chuffs a laugh, his sly slash of a mouth quirking up at the end.
“Fuckin’ dork.” The insult is tinged with a warm fondness in his tone. “I’m going to fucking wreck you for anyone else.”
Those long teasing fingers that Kiri ogled a few minutes earlier dip into the tight pants, and Bakugo palms himself under them, cupping his balls, rubbing the thick shaft into fullness, the spandex hides nothing as he lets his fire red eyes roam Kiri’s bare chest.
“Fuck Red. Knew you were cut, but what do ya’ need all that for? You tryin’ to impress me or somethin’?” A vicious grin twists his lips and he tugs his leggings down over his hips. The waistband catches on the meat of his thick cock, pulling it down only to let it slap against Bakugo’s stomach. He isn’t wearing any underwear. Kiri feels his cheeks burn with a hot blush. Do people spontaneously combust? Isn’t that something he and Kami heard a few weeks ago on that weird conspiracy theory channel? Because right now it feels like it's true. It has to be true, no one should be allowed to turn this red without steam shooting out of their ears.
Thank whatever deity is up there right now for blessing him with this opportunity to let the prettiest, thickest, and longest cock Kirshimia has ever seen in his 27 years of life, grace the space between his pecs. Kiri feels his throat go dry at the sight. He had tried to be a gentleman during all their previous personal training sessions. He kept his eyes glued to Bakugo’s form and away from his ass, and sharp mouth and slender wast and -- who the fuck is he kidding?
Being Bakugo Katsuki personal trainer is either heaven or hell depending on how you look at it. Depending on what day it is and what body part they are working on, and how smart Bakugo's mouth is or what he's wearing and -- Kiri closes his eyes and sends up a little prayer of thanks. This opportunity might never come around again.
“Tch--” Bakugo makes a little scoffing noise with his tongue, sounding pleased. “Whatcha' closin’ your eyes for shitty hair? Afraid to look at what I’m packin’? I know you’ve been eyeing it for weeks. Don't hide now.” Bakugo drops to his knees, bracketing Kiri’s thighs with his own, the warm flesh of his skin searing in the air conditioned chill of the gym.
Oh god, the gym! They are doing this in a public place and it's like the beginning of every single porn he has ever watched. Kiri glances around, Mina had pulled the shades on the windows before she left and locked the door behind her, so it was just them.
Alone. With the repeated reflection of Bakugo peeling his tight top off over his head like some sort of irate stripper.
His pale pink nipples bless Kiri’s eyes wherever he looks -- left, right and center -- surrounding them like a porno in 4k. And sure, Kiri's seen them before with the ever widening muscle shirts that Bakugo sometimes wears. But this is different, he gets to touch now. His heart races with the thought before stuttering.
Wait -- did Bakugo wear all that skimpy stuff on purpose?
All the questions empty out of his head when Bakugo shoves him to the floor with a heavy palm to the chest. He hits his elbows hard on the springy floor of the gym. Bakugo’s mouth is wide and the smile on his lips is predatory. Kiri feels dizzy, surrounded by Bakugo everywhere.
Wait, why is his mouth getting bigger? Wait, is he getting closer?
Kiri can feel his heart pounding in his chest. His moms always said he was all heart, and right now it felt scarily accurate, like it was going to heave out of his chest cavity and keep throbbing in the ever decreasing space between himself and gorgeous man in front of him. He could tell you when he fantasizes about Bakugou late at night, it’s always about stripping off those shirts to fondle his tits or maybe palming the bulge in his gym shorts or wiping away the sweat rolling down his biceps with his tongue.
It’s not the soft press of his lips.
It isn’t the salty taste of sweat on the upper lip that is nestled between Kiri’s open ones.
It definitely isn’t the sugar sweet taste of caramel. Like Bakugo has been eating those Wurther’s candies his granny keeps in the car for long trips.
Kissing Bakugo Katsuki feels just like that, a happy memory long forgotten -- until, well it isn’t anymore.
The soft press of Bakugo’s tongue in Kiri’s mouth is like sucking on one of those candies while descending a mountain. When Kiri would take that first salty sweet taste sucking it into his mouth and his ears would finally pop. Sweet relief paired with the pleasure of the candy. The harshness that Bakugo usually brings to every interaction is nowhere to be found between their lips, it’s just passion and the arch of Kiri’s neck as he cranes himself up to angle his tongue deeper into the damp cave of Bakugo’s mouth. Their mouth’s flirt, lower lips get nipped, tongues trace the gentle curves and bows of each other’s lips. The hot flick of their wet tongues together for the first time elicit twin groans from their chests. Kiri heart is pounding like he’s put hours on the treadmill at a 5% incline.
Kiri tips his head to deepen the kiss, arching his neck even further to press his tongue deeper into the sweet depths of Bakugo’s mouth. Bakugo huffs a soft laugh in the negative space between them before biting on Kiri’s full lower lip. He pulls his mouth away to shove the hard hot length of his swollen cock against Kiri’s bare chest. The tip is drooling precum, painting Kiri’s chest with wetness. The sight makes Kiri let out a high pitched sigh.
How can a dick look so fucking pretty? Isn’t that against the rules?
“Whatcha gonna do about this, Red?” Bakugo whispers above him, swaying his hips side to side gently, rubbing the head of his cock in the soft hairless space between his pecs. Each pearl of wetness leaves a smear of desire against his skin. “You gonna put them together like I asked and let me fuck your tits? Or do I put my pants back on and we finish this training session?” Kiri sits up so fast he almost pulls a muscle in his back.
Bakugo? Covering up that fucking fat gorgeous cock of his? No! It’s got to be illegal. Not on Kiri’s watch. There will be no cock covering today!
Kiri presses his hands up to the outer edge of his pecs, thanking his previous self for the little bit of extra padding that came along with focusing on lower body workouts and midnight snack runs with Denki. The little bit of extra fat and plushness makes the channel between his tits deeper and more alluring to the eyes. At least that’s what he hopes he looks like. For all he knows, he could look completely foolish. Kiri glances over to the side to peek at himself in the mirror. His skin is flushed bright red, his giant hands are enveloping the muscles on the sides of his chest, and his pupils are blown out wide.
“Mmm that’s it Red, squeeze ‘em tight like that.” Bakugo’s voice rasps in his ears, raising goosebumps on his chest and shoulders making his nipples tighten involuntarily. “You look so good like this. Just waiting for my goddamn cock.” Bakugo shuffles forward a bit more on his knees to press the shaft of his cock in the hollow of his tits, the wet, red, head brushing Kiri’s chin, smearing sticky fluid against his throat. When Kiri tips his head up to look at Bakugo, the light behind him is diffused by the soft spiky halo of his hair. The blonde strands almost shimmering under the lights. Bakugo looks like some avenging angel, sent from on high.
“Open wide Shitty Hair, I got a present for ya'.”
Kiri should know Bakugo is more devil than angel no matter how pretty he looks. His foul mouth is going to take Kiri straight to hell.
Kiri tilts his head down, opening his mouth to taste the skin of Bakugo’s thumb, letting him guide his lips around the throbbing head of his cock. The sweet taste of Bakuguo’s kisses linger on his lips, contrasting with the salty taste of Bakugo’s cum. Kiri groans and the sound is echoed by Bakugo shortly after as he laves his tongue against the bottom of Bakugo's cock. Bakugo hisses in pleasure, his teeth bared as he slowly rolls his hips to feed more of the thick length into Kiri’s mouth.
Holy shit his cock is so warm and thick. Kiri can feel the warm drip of his own precum staining his compression shorts.
“Fuck Red, that’s it. Ngh -- Get it sloppy and wet so I can fuck your tits nice and fast.” Kiri blinks up at Bakugo, watching his head tip back as Bakugo slowly presses deeper into Kiri’s face, fucking it shallowly. Kiri sinks down deep, choking on the thick press of Bakugo’s cock, not swallowing a drop, letting the saliva and cum pool in his mouth to drip down between the valley of his tits and hollow of his neck.
The sounds he pulls from Bakugo are like a symphony to his ears. Each hiss of breath as he plunges deeper to hit the back of Kiri’s throat, each aborted moan, each little breath of curse, all of them stroke a feather line of pleasure down his spine, his cock rising with every drip of saliva and precum onto his chest. Kiri makes a soft hum of pleasure, his lips stretching into a smile around the thick throbbing length in his mouth.
“Hng -- damnit, Red, your -- hah -- fuckin’ smile.” Bakugo’s hand slides up from Kiri’s shoulders, where he’s been digging the tips of his fingers into the thick muscle, up to the tied up ponytail at the top of Kiri’s head. He tugs it softly, sending a pulse of wetness shooting between Kiri’s thighs as he drips into his shorts. “Those teeth of yours. Been thinkin’ about them for weeks. Knew you’d be gentle with ‘em around my dick.” Bakugo’s other hand slides up to rub his thumb against Kiri’s lower lip to stretch it wide, rubbing the pad of his finger against Kiri’s teeth. “I swear to fuck, you’ve been smilin’ real big every session, temptin’ me with that slutty mouth of yours every damn time.” Bakugo begins to thrust deeply into his mouth. Punctuating his words with shifts of his hips.
Holy shit. Bakugo’s been thinking about his teeth? Thinking about Kiri giving him head?
Kiri groans, the vibrations of his throat humming through the cock in his mouth making Bakugo shudder. Every breath he struggles to take between the press of Bakugo’s cock in his throat feels like it's his last. His chest is slick with cum and saliva, he’s more than wet enough for Bakugo to fuck his tits, but goddamn he can’t stop sucking this beautiful cock. He bobs quicker, reaching up with one hand to cup Bakugo’s firm ass, the other reaching down to clench on his own hard on to give himself some relief. God he’s so fucking hard, just one stroke on his bare cock would have him cumming all over Bakugo’s pretty sculpted back.
Kiri squeezes down hard at the base of his cock, the thought of those sculpted muscles covered in his cum almost makes him shoot off. He bobs his head faster, pushing Bakugo’s cock deeper to pop into the back of his throat, gagging around it.
“Alright fuck f-fuck fuuuck -- okay Red, stop. Or I’ll cum.” Bakugo tugs his ponytail harder, pulling Kiri’s face away from his cock, a trail of saliva connecting them. The loud wet click of Kiri’s throat is lewd as he tries to swallow down the thick cock before it pulls away. “That was fuckin’ perfect. I'm gonna shove my dick so far down your throat next time you’ll feel me in your guts.” Bakugo’s fingers squeeze gently Kiri's chin gently in emphasis.
Next time? Kiri’s chest heaves with the implication of this happening again. Fuck, he would do anything for a second go. He can't trap the whine that escapes him thinking about it. Bakugo grips his hair harder, letting his fingers trail gently over the saliva and cum dripping from Kiri's chin.
“That’s it. Look at you, a little fucking cock slut. You didn’t want to stop did’ja?” Bakugo trails his fingers over Kiri’s dark brows and leans down to kiss his mouth, sloppy and wet. So wet he’s adding his own saliva to the mess on Kiri’s chest. Despite the kiss’s intensity, it’s so fucking soft. It’s whiplash for Kiri. Each passionate lick of Bakugo’s tongue is a surprise wrapped up in a pretty bow. Bakugo's words say one thing but his tone says another. The rough hand in his hair, gripping so tightly it hurts is complimented with the soft passionate kisses Bakugo is laying on his lips. Kiri whines again, his hips twitching, tugging against Bakugo's grip.
“It's okay baby. I’ve got enough stamina to fill you up from both ends next time.” Kiri’s eyes flutter at the words, feeling like some bodice ripper heroine from a 90’s romance novel, halfway to a faint, his cock pulsing in his shorts and his face in Bakugo’s capable hands. His hands fall to floor to support his suddenly limp spine. The soft touch of Bakugo’s hands and the tender way he delivers the most filthy dirty talk Kiri has ever heard, makes Kiri feel lightheaded.
Who is this person? Who is Bakugo really? Angry gremlin or tender incubus? Is Kiri going to actually swoon?
Bakuguo shoves him back, taking advantage of his dizziness. Kiri’s shoulders hit the floor with a hollow thunk. There’s the Bakugo he knows and loves. The bright lights filter through Kiri’s dark lashes, giving the whole scene a dream-like quality as Bakugo maneuvers his thighs to bracket Kiri’s chest. His warm thighs press tightly against Kiri’s torso, the hair on his legs soft and golden under the harsh light. Grinning evilly, Bakugo uses his thumb to angle his cock down, the glint of his teeth blinding in the light. He spreads his knees, lowering himself down and Kiri gasps at the weight of Bakugo on his chest. It’s substantial, keeping him grounded in reality when Kiri feels like he’s going to float away.
How did he get here? Is he dreaming? Is the cooling mess on his chest real?
Bakugo’s balls are burning hot and tight on his sternum, making Kiri’s cock twitch at the feeling. He can smell the hot sweaty scent of Bakugo on him. The humid heat emanates from between his thighs. The tip of Bakugo’s cock spears through the wet mess on his chest.
“Press ‘em together Red. I wanna see them cradling my cock.”
Fuck Bakugo has a filthy mouth, and Kiri fucking loves it. Every word sends a thrum of heat between Kiri’s legs as he raises his palms to squish his tits together, hugging the hot length of Bakugo’s cock between the soft flesh. The slick glide of his cock is a lewd squelch between them. Kiri adjusts his grip on the sides of his chest, putting more pressure higher up to create a deeper channel for Bakugo to fuck into. Each hump of Bakugo’s hips makes a slick skin on skin noise that goes straight to Kiri’s own hard cock. Kiri creeps his fingers up, using the base of his palms to create the pressure to keep his tits pressed together and lets his fingers touch the top of Bakugo’s dick.
He tilts his head down to watch. The sticky red head of Bakugo’s dick pokes through the plush flesh, and Kiri’s mouth waters. He wants to taste it again. He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue as far as it will go to lap at the pearly beads of precum dotting Bakugo’s cockhead.
“Hng -- yes fuck Red. That’s it -- ah! Suck it up like its honey. I’m gonna paint that shitty fucking spray tan white.”
Kiri’s humping the air in time with each shift of Bakugo’s weight over him. Using the meager friction of his own underwear as fuel for each twitch of his hips. The seam of his compression shorts is rubbing against the edge of his frenulum.
Could he cum like this, untouched? Watching Bakugo take his pleasure so shamelessly from his body? Ignoring what he himself wants? Maybe. It’s so fucking hot he might combust! His shorts are absolutely soaked.
His fingers ache from pressing his chest together. There will be bruises there tomorrow and he’ll have to sleep on his back tonight, but there is no way he is going to stop. Bakugo is a sweaty sex god on top of him. The entirety of Plus Ultra Fitness could barrel through those front doors and interrupt them, and even then he didn’t think it would stop him from squeezing Bakugo’s dick between his tits.
‘Your tits are so soft, I’ve been thinking about this for weeks -- ah! -- how you’d look under me, this fucking massive chest of yours, I fucking hate how hot it is.’ Bakugo’s voice is a rough and uneven murmur. Kiri moans, hearing him. The words sound more like endearments than sharply worded insults. They are vibrating down Kiri’s ear canals and twisting around his spine. Maybe it's the way he said them. Maybe it's the way the words are paired with the tender touch of Bakugo fingers on his nipples. Maybe it’s just Kiri’s brain finally understanding that Bakugo’s bluster is just the way he shows he cares.
Kiri hunches his shoulders up from the floor engaging his core and back to deepen the channel for Bakugo to fuck into. Kiri stretches his neck farther forward to get his mouth around the flushed head of Bakugo’s cock. His lips feel like they are slick with precum and saliva. Bakugo’s mouth is slack and his brows pinched, he’s heaving breaths in and out, as he pistons his hips between Kiri’s tits. One hand is on his cock base angling it down to slide between the flesh, while the other pulls gently on Kiri’s nipples. Each tug sends a surprising zing down to his balls. Kiri has played with his nipples before but this felts nothing like that.
“Look at your tits, so fat and swollen for me.” Bakugo yanks on his nipple, rolling the bud between his thumb and middle finger, pulling a whine out of Kiri as he laps at the head of Bakugo’s cock. “Take it. Yeah, just like that. I know you’ve been eyeing my pecs all this time. But it's me who’s fuckin’ you.”
Kiri nods. It’s true. It’s so fucking true. Kiri is so quick to get on his back for this man. What does that make Kiri? A slut? Probably. It doesn’t matter how rude Bakugo is, Kiri would train for 100 Ironman triathlons to get to be first in line to get to another taste of Bakugo’s cock.
“Ngh … Who’s gonna mark you up with their cum? It's not that shitty Deku or that half and half bastard, -- fuck, yeah squeeze ‘em together like that-- it's me.” Bakugo is slurring. Every word growled out between his gritted teeth. His weight is heavy on Kiri's chest, the combination of the cock in his mouth and Bakugo's muscled form squishing him makes him gasp for breath. His chest is aching and he's pressing his tits so tightly together to increase the friction on Bakugo's cock.
Kiri cant take his eyes off Bakugo, his cheeks are pink with exertion, it looks like he’s been doing interval sprints for hours. His face looks all fucked out, brows drawn together, sweat rolling down his chest and neck. He is every single fantasy of Kiri’s come true. “Who is it, hah? Say my name you fucker! Say it.”
“Katsuki.” Kiri mumbles around the saliva dripping from his lips. He sticks his tongue out farther to tempt that pretty red cockhead into the cave of his mouth. He can feel how hard and thick it is under the soft pads of his fingers, the heat generated by all the friction feels like it should be burning his fingers. A sharp thrust pops the head of Bakugo’s cock into his mouth, Bakugo’s balls drag through the sticky wetness of cum and spit and -- oh, wow.
With a filthy high pitched moan -- that is absolutely surprising coming out of foul mouthed growly Bakugo Katsuki’s mouth -- and a bite of his full lower lip, Bakugo cums, jacking off the bit of his cock that is not surrounded by Kiri’s soft swollen pecs. The hot spurts of salty cum fly everywhere. Bits fly into his eyelashes, some getting caught on his headband, and paint his tongue and chest white. He can feel the throb of Bakugo’s cock under his fingertips, the veins pulsating with each spurt.
Goddamn. Kiri thought he had seen peak Bakugo attractiveness when he was fucking into Kiri’s chest, but Bakugo’s face when he orgasms takes the cake. He knows getting cum in his eye is a bad idea (blame Denki’s cum induced pink eye for that bit of knowledge) but he can’t stop looking at the delineated perfection of Bakugo’s body while he twitches and moans on top of him, jerking his cock roughly. The ropes of his muscles are sharply cut as his stomach and thighs tense with each pulse of cum that hits Kiri’s chest and mouth. Bakugo pumps himself, the ropes of muscle in his arms and shoulders highlighted in stark relief. Bakugo rubs his cum slick cockhead against the soft tanned skin of Kiri’s chest, and Kiri thinks he looks just as beautiful when he unwinds all that sinuous tense muscle. Bakugo slumps forward, one hand on Kiri's mostly clean tit, squeezing the muscles to keep himself upright.
Wow, that orgasm looked good. Insanely good. So good that Kiri can't stop squirming under him trying to hump his hips up to rub his throbbing cock against the cleft of Bakugo’s ass. But he’s so fucking far away! Kiri whines, licking his lips, sucking the wet glob of cum off his upper lip before letting his hands slide down from the sides of his tits to the soft tops of Bakugo's thighs.
“Katsuki, please.” He whispers desperately as cum drips from his forehead onto his chest. His whole body is squirming, searching for friction, he’s just on the edge of orgasm. “Pretty please, I just need--”
“Yeah? What do ya’ need shitty hair?” Bakugo blinks languidly, the halogen lights above him reflect on the sweat rolling down from his hairline down his pretty fuckable pecs. God, would Bakugo let him suck on those little kiss shaped nipples? Maybe slick up Kiri's dick with his own cum and ride him? Smother him between his pecs and let Kiri die a happy man?
At the thought, Kiri sinks his teeth so deep into his lower lip he tastes blood and he lifts his hips up high searching for friction, almost dislodging Bakugo. Bakugo leans back and braces his hands against Kiri’s hips, his soft dick swollen and flopping while he adjusts his weight on Kiri’s chest so he doesn’t spill to the floor. Bakugo smiles, the usual slash of his mouth is soft, more mocking and warm than antagonistic.
He reaches behind him, arching his back, which pulls his obliques into sharp relief. The delineation of Bakugo’s ribcage is shadowed under the harsh lighting for a moment before his dexterous fingers pull down Kiri’s shorts to let loose his throbbing cock.
“You didn’t do half bad Red. I think I can letcha’ have a bit of a reward.” The smile on his face turns a little more mocking, and he takes Kiri’s hand and places it on the soft sweat damp skin of his chest. He tugs Kiri’s ponytail, encouraging him with rough movements to sit up.
Kiri never thought in a million years he’d have a lap full of Bakugo. Kiri feels himself trembling with the dangerous and forbidden knowledge of what it actually feels like to have him so close, while Bakugo adjusts those sharp, strong angles of his in Kiri’s lap. His strong thighs bracket Kiri’s hips and the tits he dreams about are right in his face. Kiri can feel his mouth go dry, one hand reverently cupping the pale skin of Bakugo’s pec, the other wrapped around the slender curve of his waist.
Bakugo swipes his hand through the mess dripping down to Kiri's abdomen, holding his hand cupped, fingers splayed wide. The tension in his fingers, paired with the ferocious look on his face made the gesture look more like a threat of pain rather than a promise of pleasure. Kiri swallows noisily. Pain or pleasure made no difference to him, as long as he was getting it from Bakugo Katsuki. Bakugo's hand wraps around Kiri's cock and he gives him one shallow pump pressing the hot length of Kiri’s cock against the cleft of his ass. The mess of spit and cum is cool and slick between them, lubricating the slide of skin.
Holy fucking shit. Kiri’s eyes roll back into his head he can feel Bakugo twist his long ponytail around his fist, reeling him in closer. The chill of Bakugo’s cum slicked hand on his overheated cock is electric. It is something that should make Kiri take a pause, make him appreciate how lucky he is to be here, under tender and lethal Bakugo, but instead it makes him feral. Makes him clutch Bakugo closer. Inhale the scent of deodorant, damp spandex, and the musky scent of all well used gyms. The contrast in temperatures just jolts him into a frenzy, making him grind his hips into Bakugo’s loose grip, shoving up between his ass cheeks. It's a veritable buffet of jack off material right in his lap. A buffet he helped Bakugo sculpt. The knowledge makes him shiver.
“You were dyin’ for them earlier Red, and now that ya’ got them right in front of you, you’re just gonna sit there?” Bakugo raises a lazy eyebrow, his voice gruff and soft while he presses Kiri’s cock deeper between his ass cheeks and squirms in his lap. He takes a tighter grip on Kiri’s ponytail, wrapping his fist one more time around the hair, urging him closer to his chest.
Kiri’s eyes shoot open and he squeezes the soft flesh under his hand. He leans down to take a pretty blush pink nipple into his mouth, sucking at it and then very carefully biting down on it, letting his eyes flick up to watch Bakugo’s lids slip down to half mast. Bakugo lets out a soft huff of a breath, rolling his hips on top of Kiri’s and sending a jolt of heat between his thighs.
“Harder Red, I ain’t gonna break.”
The words rattle around inside Kiri’s head, shoving out any other thoughts except -- more, more, more. He opens his mouth wide and takes as much of Bakugo’s tit into his mouth, biting down hard and sucking every inch of flesh and muscle into his mouth. The cry that leaves Bakugo’s mouth is loud, echoing in the empty gym. The sharp pain of Bakugo clutching his hair is a counterpoint to the searing heat Kiri feels as he rubs his dick between the strong round cheeks of Bakugo’s ass. It doesn’t take much for Kiri to cum, splattering the strong lines of Bakugo’s back with his milky spend. A couple rough grinds of his hips. A flick of his eyes up to Bakugo’s pleasure pained face. The pressure of Kiri’s teeth sunk deep into the fat of Bakugo’s tits.
The orgasm barrels down him like a freight train, unstoppable, rattling his bones, curling his toes, making him shake like a leaf in its wake. Bakugo’s chest is covered in Kiri’s slobber and his own cum, and Kiri's clutching Bakugo like some security blanket from his childhood as he rolls his hips to finish out his orgasm. His half hard cock is making slick squelching noises behind them.
Kiri rubs his face between Bakugo’s pecs, not even caring about his own mess and Bakugo’s tacky half dried cum stuck between them. That's something for future Kiri to worry about. Present Kiri is too busy trying to gather his brain cells together in order to string together a few words. A strong shudder passes through his body and he wraps his arms around Bakugo’s curved waist a little tighter, hugging him closer.
Bakugo unwinds Kiri’s long red hair from around his fist, carding his fingers through the long tangled ends, gently prying them apart. The motions send a wave of fondness through Kiri and he turns his head a bit to peer up at Bakugo. He looks a little sleepy, the wrinkle between his brows less severe and it really emphasizes how pretty Bakguo is when he isn’t yelling and irate. No wonder he is a model. Is this Bakugo’s “I like you” expression? Because if it is, Kiri could get used to it.
“Mmm, do you do this with all your personal trainers?” Kiri mumbles, peeking out a bit more to look up at Bakugo with a mischievous grin.
The quasi-tender expression on Bakugo’s face is immediately replaced with annoyance. There are no more gentle fingers in Kiri’s hair. Bakugo’s grip is unyielding when he yanks on the end of Kiri’s ponytail, dragging him out of the warm embrace of his tits.
“Fuck you hair for brains! It ain’t like that!” Bakugo makes a fist, punching it into the meat of Kiri’s shoulder, hard. Ouch! Kiri winces. Maybe he should scale back on Bakugo’s bag work. That punch HURT. “You think I wear skimpy workout wear like this all the time? Bastard! I’ve been coming on to ya’ for weeks! I had to ask Cammie where she shopped for her clothes, because you’re too fuckin’ dumb to recognize basic social cues.” Bakugo’s eyes are narrow slits and his “death to all dumbasses” face is back on.
Kiri’s heart expands to what feels like six sizes in his chest. How fucking manly! Bakugo wanted him from the start! He wants him now! He doesn’t want a one night stand! Kiri's going to get the chance to touch him again! He can feel tears pooling in his eyes watching Bakugo get more and more wound up, ranting and raving about how clueless Kiri is.
The yelp that emerges from Bakugo’s mouth is strangled by how tightly Kiri squeezes him while flipping him on his back. He pins Bakugo’s hands above his head, tangling their fingers together before leaning down to cut Bakugo’s tirade off mid sentence with a tender kiss.
Huh. Guess there is one more way to keep Bakugo quiet.