#kirishima and bakugou | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

enuniu · 1 year

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red, red, red (why must it be red?)

A slow breeze filters past delicate leaves and soft grass, drips of dirty rain slide down small slopes of mud, carrying red pebbles and tiny bugs using the makeshift river for transportation. There are people bustling amongst the streets, footsteps unsynchronised, mumbling voices mixing together into incoherent waves--all innocently unaware of the sky brimming with grey clouds one by one.

Katsuki sits still on a worn-out bench, impatiently waiting for his commute to arrive. The sun was already setting, darkness creepily looming over the jungles of trees and buildings, and though the scenery was something to be appreciated with a slight glance of interest, the blond desperately wanted to go home already. He had no time for meaningless wonders. Despite the numerous times, he glanced at the watch attached to his wrist--a useless and unnecessary weight--the clock seems to tick slower with every peek. He wanted to burn the watch for its incompetence.

Katsuki’s head is filled with leftover rage. The kind that sinks deep into your veins and burns inside and out, with your screams kept locked tight in the back of your throat. He hates this feeling--hates the frustration and annoyance calling to him from the inner corners of his thoughts. And now he tries to tame the flames by watching people walk back and forth between stations, umbrellas tucked underneath their arms and their feet kicking stray red pebbles all while rushing to get to the next stop. Katsuki forgot to bring one himself and now he sits underneath a crappy metal sheet people claim is for protection from harsh sunbeams and white balls of snow. Though instead, the teen sees it as a nuisance when the rain clashes on rusted silver and splashes onto his well-worn sneakers. It seems the cold shower is somehow making his fire burn stronger.

That’s another thing to add to the list of things that pissed him off today. The attempt of cooling off where there’s a fresh breeze tickling the barest of one’s nape was not helping him. He needed to get home immediately. There would be no way he could contain all this anger inside, and the last thing Katsuki wants is to snap at a random stranger. He’s not fourteen anymore with a desire to blast those who took two wrong steps toward him--Katuski has learned from his mistakes, at least he thought he did.

He can’t decide anymore.

The slight muffling of a speaker can be heard in the distance, and with strained ears, he hears the apologies of a specific train attending later than usual. Thunder cracked along the distant sky, rain pulsed harder on the mud and fractured pavement, and Katsuki’s fist could not get any whiter with the way he tightened it. His eyelashes fought to keep out the threatening water droplets flailing down from the ashen sky and that had somehow found a fissure in the shelter above. He really should have brought an umbrella. The veins inside his body boiled hot, warmer than before, and any minute, the slightest off look from curious eyes will send him into another spiral of white rage. At this point, Katsuki does not wish that the next modest bystander can stand their ground any longer--

“Hey, Bakugou!”

For some reason, Katsuki cannot hear the call of his name.

It’s almost as if the muted calling did nothing but direct his face back towards the ground where the dirty river rain continues to glide along the black street. Anger not completely vanished, but somehow subdued when the blond notices more colored pebbles washing down.

He’s focused on a particular small pebble. It’s coated in streaks of browns and oranges, a slight tint of red branded on top of compacted earth. The pebble kicks at his shoes from where the river of rain travels in between cemented cracks, landing right next to the tip of the foot. Katsuki thinks he should throw it to the opposite side of the station--hopefully where it can hit someone who deserves their shit rocked to hell.

Ah, looks like his anger could not be simply contained by the miniature rock for so long it seems.

He really needs to get home.

“Bakugou!”

There it goes again. The pebble stays in its place. A pair of black shoes enter his vision, though no mind is paid attention to it, and instead Katsuki contemplates.

“Hey, man, are you alri--” The sound of a yell rips through Katsuki’s ears, and suddenly, his white collared shirt and black pants are drowned in dirty rainwater. What. The. Fuck. The red pebble vanished somewhere in the splash, probably bounced off the corner of his shoes, and skidded to a place where it would be safe from harm. However, it seemed to be replaced with another rock; one larger, spikier, and a hell of a lot more stupid. (And more vibrantly crimson. The perfect color you find yourself gravitating towards without the trouble of finding the right shade--the right kind of pigment you want to be stained on your blank canvas, a canvas in dire need to be ruined. Katsuki realizes he does not mind this replacement for the run-away pebble.)

The dumbass in front of him whines in distress, “Ah shit, man. I just bought this new uniform too.” Katsuki finally focuses his sight on the person in front of him. Apparently, it just so happens to be the same dumbass he calls a friend. ‘Friend’ is too much. Shut up. The blond sneers at the sight. Kirishima is soaked from head to toe, his school attire drenched in water and dirt. His usual spiked-do sags from the pouring rain above; there’s a slight hole in his right knee, his backpack is hanging from one shoulder that has inked papers poking out, and there’s a small cut on his left arm that the idiot is using to refrain from being swept in the river of water. Sometimes Katsuki wishes he didn’t notice these small things. Makes it easier to ignore. Though, when it came to the red-head, that never seemed to be an option. “Are you fucking serious, Shitty-Hair?” Kirishima glances up at the other from his position, an awkward, toothed smile already formed on his apologetic face for the disruption he just caused. “I’m sorry man. I noticed you sitting alone and wanted to keep you some company, but it looks like I got too excited.” Kirishima sheepishly explained. He lifted his free hand to scratch at the back of his head, eyes casting downwards in embarrassment. Now is not the place and time for stupid shenanigans. The explosive teenager already has to deal with this on a daily basis in the dorms, he does not need it when on his way home either. Katsuki notices a slight shiver run up Kirishima’s spine when he attempts to get up from the disastrous puddle of cold, hands reluctantly gathering his belongings. The blond looks down at his own clothes and silently groans at the sight. His uniform has befallen the same tragedy it seems. Katsuki decides maybe this new pebble can be his personal kicking bag, considering it made his day much worse than before. Not really. Now, I’m telling you to shut up. Kirishima tries to wipe off the excess dirt bathed into his white shirt, but it does nothing for the way the brown sticks to his wet clothing, seeped in deep--with this, Katsuki rolls his eyes at the sight. “You are so clumsy, aren’t you.” It comes off more as a statement than a question, but Kirishima still gives a lopsided smile in return and apologizes once more. “I’m really sorry for the mess, Bakugou. I promise I’ll make up for it!” Kirishima places both hands together and bows down to his classmate’s level. Katsuki realizes that the other is still standing in the rain and growls in annoyance, “Just sit down already. Don’t need you catching a cold and have you whining to me through the goddamn phone.” His own hair is now damp from the humidity of the weather, so this requires a flip of the hand to keep the ash-blond strands from his eyes. The redhead comes back up and stares, grimacing at the nerving sight of his friend. Katsuki knows another apology is going to escape that shark-toothed mouth. “Shut it.” “I didn’t even say anything this time!” “Doesn’t matter,” Katsuki grumbles. “I know you were about to go off on another pointless apology. Damage is done.” He waves his hand in a dismissal gesture, turning his head to the left to avoid seeing his favorite splash of red in front of his face with a puppy-like frown etched hopelessly across it. Favorite, huh? He hears shuffling, the faint of a sigh, and finally a wet plop! occur right next to him. Of course. The motherfucker has to sit right next to him where Katsuki can feel the heat radiate off of Kirishima. It tingles his skin, creating aloof dizziness from the mere distance of a couple of inches. Maybe that pebble did up hitting up someone--him--because the teen is getting real tired of these stupid feelings. In no way, shape, or form, has Katsuki ever bore witness to such sappy thinking, and he hates that it has to come from the Shitty-Haired individual himself. Lately, Kirishima seems to be the catalyst for most things in his life right now. The rain pelts harder around them. Whistles of trains come and go. Skies darkening a gloomy violet little by little. There are few people now, most likely waiting for the same stop Katsuki needs to get on as well. Speaking of people… The blond turns his head back to Kirishima, who slouches on the bench mindlessly staring at his surroundings--face placate and relaxed. His hair is no longer spiked, now streaming down his white shirt in vivid contrast. It’s damp with rainwater and tacky with leftover gel, but somehow the strands framing his strong, wide facial features have given him a softer look. Kirishima’s normally sharp dimensions lesson with the way the rain catches on his pointed eyebrows and creates a beautiful wave of crimson down his shoulders. Though the weather and the public have made it annoying for Katsuki to pay any grand attention to, Kirishima now makes it just a little more tolerable. Just a little bit. Kirishima does not notice his friend’s staring and Katsuki takes this opportunity to ask a question. “Why are you here?” He speaks up. It comes across as much more aggressive and forward than intended, but he's never been good at anything else. Kirishima returns Katsuki's stare. Red catching onto red. His doe eyes have an odd tint to them. The question could mean a variety of things other than why Kirishima is taking a different route this time, but Katsuki is not prepared to face answers he’s not ready for yet. A small smile forms on the redhead's face. “I’m here because I need to get home of course.” He responded with a lighthearted tone to his voice. The blond grunts in annoyance—he knows that’s not the only reason. “I mean, why are you taking a train, idiot. Usually, for the holidays your folks pick you up at the dorms, not make you stand in shitty rain.” Katsuki retaliates, eyes narrowed and fists ready to knock a shark tooth peeking from underneath that taunting grin. Kirishima laughs as if Katsuki is not contemplating his death. “The rain isn’t so bad.” “Says the dumbass drenched in fucking mud.” His friend lifts up his hands in feign surrender. “Hey, man. I can still enjoy a nice shower even if my clothes are ruined.” More laughter follows. How many times does Katsuki have to roll his eyes for them to remain stuck in the back of his head? Many, it seems, with the way his classmate bubbles in giggles at his obvious annoyance. “You didn’t answer my question, Shitty-Hair.” His voice retorts, hoping to scare off the hysterics consuming Kirishima’s throat. It doesn’t.

“Alright,” Kirishima continues with a chuckle, “My Ma’s car broke down a few days ago and it has yet to be fixed. So, here I am. Taking a train just like you to get home.” his explanation is reasonable, though Katsuki can’t help but feel a little disappointed that the reason didn’t have anything to do with him and Kirishima sitting right here on the bench with such close distance between them. Selfish aren’t we?

There’s nothing wrong with hoping.

‘False’ hope you mean. Katsuki wrinkles his nose. “Makes sense, I guess.” It comes out low, and the pounding rain adds to the somber tone of the sentence. He redirects his attention to the few people who surround them, umbrellas open and feet tapping anxiously on splashing puddles. Kirishima smiles once more. He never seems to stop smiling. “Yeah. I could’ve gotten a ride from Denki.” He adds. Katsuki swerves his head back to his friend. Why would he mention that? Why decline such a better opportunity than having to soak in rain in the darkest of evenings with Katsuki of all people? “Why didn’t you?” He reluctantly asks, almost afraid to know what the answer is this time. Kirishima lifts his eyebrow, responding, “Someone’s curious today.” Katsuki remains silent. "Because, like, every time my parents come to pick me up, yours makes you take the train—alone." the redhead sighs. " I just wanted to spend a bit of time with you, Bakugou, before we don't see each other for the rest of the holidays. You really don't answer your phone when we go back home." Katsuki's gaze stays constant. Eyebrows furrowed. Mind feverishly attempting to understand Kirishima's reasoning. Despite this, the same question is raised for each reply he receives: why? Katsuki isn't sure anymore, and he's starting to realize that he isn't sure about a lot of things lately. Even though all the unnecessary mean comments and anger he's tossed at him since he’s been here, Kirishima chose to skip out on a fresh and rainless ride with Kaminari just to keep him company. It looks to be too good to be true, but Katsuki knows that Kirishima has never lied to him before. Why would he now? It’s hard to believe some people want to be near Katsuki. He’s never made it easy. The two don’t leave each other’s gazes. Red clashes with red once more. Kirishima's red, on the other hand, is gentler, softer, and less threatening to touch. His eyes are wide, his lashes are long and thick, and his reddened cheeks are beautifully fanned by them—all while his shade of red renders Katsuki motionless. No one ever looks him in the eyes without showing their fear or arrogance beneath the surface. Kirishima's is attentive and welcoming. Instead of returning to reality, where the rain gives him goosebumps and his wrath isn't a constant thought in the back of his mind, he can't help but want to stare for a little longer. Katsuki wants to linger in this warm bubble with Kirishima for a bit longer, if not, forever. Kirishima doesn’t look away. Katsuki blinks. Though he has to let go eventually. Good things don’t stay. “You’re such a dumbass.” Ouch. I didn’t mean to. Sure you didn’t. The spell is broken. Kirishima leans his head back, another smile etching across his tan features. He chuckles rather than being fazed by the remark. The faint ringing of a bell reverberates through the intense rainfall. A train has arrived. Kirishima glances in front of them, where people are sighing with relief as they enter the commute. The location, written in vivid red digital letters atop the entrance, reads Osaka. Katsuki remembers that this is Kirishima’s stop. Kirishima has a frown on his face. "Looks like I'm going to have to leave, man." His voice is filled with disappointment, but Katsuki doesn't want to think about why. No more questions for the night. The blond looks down where his hands fold atop one another. He wants to say something else, to go back and fix what he just said, but there’s a lump in his throat and it makes no room for something--anything--to be released. He notices black shoes moving away from the bench on the ground, followed by a grunt. His ears pick up the sound of papers being packed further inside a backpack with a zipper to keep it all together. It's the dredful sound of approaching abandonment. God, you're dramatic. Kirishima clears his throat to catch Katsuki’s attention. “Alright then, Bakugou. Time for me to go. I had some fun talking to you!” He laughs, “Sometimes you're funny without even trying to be.” Katsuki doesn’t bother to look back up. Instead, he grunts a goodbye that he wishes he had the energy to say directly to the redhead’s face. “See ya later, Shitty-Hair.” Kirishima gives a small giggle. “You and your nicknames.” The wind is blowing a little harder, and the train's last call echoes across the deserted station. Even though he didn't want him here in the first place, Katsuki doesn't want him to leave now. Kirishima always has the power to change things for him with the slightest bit of his painfully unfunny jokes and obnoxious laughter. Katsuki is learning to hate it. Kirishima shifts in his spot. There’s silence between them. But someone has to do something. “Hope you have a good break, Katsuki.” And with that, Kirishima turns around and enters the train with a yell of the word wait! following after. The blond snorts at it--the idiot probably missed the opportunity to enter those glass doors and had them shut on him right when he was going. The swoosh of a door and the brakes of the train release. Katsuki finally looks back up.

He finds a mop of red lost in the dull crowd smushed together on the train. Kirishima stands out amongst all of them, and Katsuki finds himself smiling at the thought. The train slowly leaves his sight and he knows he’s alone all over again. Funny that he preferred the idea when he first sat down on the uncomfortable bench, but now he wishes he wasn’t. The teenager settles his elbows on his knees, chin resting on his palms as he stares at the sky above, not caring for the rain that catches on his face. A slow breeze enters the area, brushing past delicate leaves and soft patches of grass scattered along the cracked pavement. Drops of rain slide down slopes of mud, carrying assortments of rocks and bugs for transportation. No one is bustling the streets anymore, only fluorescent street lights and the pigeons eating away candy left on the floor. No more unsynchronized footsteps, mixing voices--no one here to stand in the sky where the clouds clash together and pelt their tears onto lonely grounds. His clothes and hair are still damp from the unexpected splash Kirishima made earlier and he sighs at the idea of having to explain this to his mother when he gets home. This should make him angry, something to add to his list that was built today, but instead he feels tired. Exhausted. He just wants to leave this place. Another announcement rings across the station. Looks like his train is taking even longer than expected. So, he waits for the train to arrive and as he does, another small pebble stumbles upon his feet. It’s red. Katsuki kicks it back to the street.

hello guys! thank you so much for reading. this work is one of my proudest ones and though there was much more planning and plot to the story, i decided to leave it as this simple one-shot. regardless of the ambiguity of katsuki’s anger, the story is mainly focused on his process of emotions and reactions with them towards kirishima. i hope you enjoyed!

#bnha #bnha fanfictions #katsuki bakugo mha #mha #kirishima #kirishima eijirou #kirishima and bakugou #introspection #fandom #mha fandom #light angst #bakugou #katsuki bakugō #bakugou headcanons #kiribaku

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kentocidal · 9 months

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lucky winner

users: piercer!bakugou x afab!fem!reader x tattoo artist!kirishima

internal warnings: descriptions of needles/tattoos/piercings as they occur, long fic, wow there's plot in this!, consensual threeway, established krbk, oral (m and f!receiving), piv, spit, size kink, light dacryphilia, spitroasting, inaccurate positioning, ask to tag

internal notes: three way won the poll so i went ham. my fault og. final word count somehow came to 5.2k ish.

new notifications: @kaedescara

you stared blankly at the notification on your phone, wide-eyed and jaw agape. you blinked slowly, rubbed a hand down your face, and then clicked your phone off and back on again. the screen lit back up to your screensaver and the single notification that sat covering it. ‘@sincitytattoojp tagged you in their story! check it out!’

you looked up from your phone to your friend, who you now realized was calling your name and snapping her fingers. “uh, hello? earth to y/n? what’s going on? did your ex message you or something?”

“i think i won something.” you mumbled, turning your phone to show your friend. she furrowed her brows together and took your phone from your hand, studying the notification before cracking a grin.

“is this that tattoo parlor in tokyo that you keep talking about hypothetically going to?” she laughed as she punched in your passcode and opened up instagram, pressing on the icon to the parlor’s instagram story.

you were quick to snatch your phone back to watch the story yourself, raising the volume on your phone to hear it. it was a video of someone’s hand reaching into a very full fishbowl of printed instagram handles, pulling out a tiny piece of paper and unfolding it to reveal your instagram username. the caption read in big red lettering, “congrats to @[y/n] for winning the human canvas raffle. reply to this post by midnight to schedule your slot.”

you swallowed thickly and looked up at your friend. “i won the fucking raffle. i won the nine hour session.”

your friend sucked in a breath before laughing and lifting her glass to you. “godspeed, soldier.”

you looked back down at your phone and clicked back to rewatch your name be pulled from the bowl. you had entered the contest on a whim – you hadn’t expected to win. you had reposted the parlor’s picture and tagged your three closest friends to enter a bid into becoming a human canvas for a day, i.e. getting tattooed and pierced until you tapped out. the parlor owners couldn’t seem to decide on whether to call it the human canvas contest or the no mercy challenge, not that it mattered. both fit the bill to describe what you had just won.

you swiped up on the story.

you: i dont know whether to be terrified or excited.

@sincitytattoojp: both, sweetheart. sign this and get it back to us [1 attachment]

you had gone through an extensive back and forth that night, printing and signing and scanning different waivers and papers to ensure that you would be able to handle an entire day of sitting in a chair getting poked and prodded with needles and getting art permanently printed on your skin forever. you were grateful that they took so much precaution in ensuring you were well aware of the situation you were putting yourself in, and getting ample consent confirmed ahead of time. you already felt comfortable as you stepped off the train in tokyo and started towards the shop.

sin city tattoo and body art. the small tattoo shop had garnered a massive following around the globe for the gorgeous work that consistently poured from the studio. the artists had never shown their faces on their page, but it was clearly just a two man show. sometimes one of them would film the other doing their newest piece on a client they handpicked from the waiting list, and it was clear that the two were a little more than close friends.

you trusted their work. you were a new client, obviously, but after following their page for over a year, you knew you would be okay with going through with this. you were just… inexperienced. you had a tiny tattoo of a butterfly on your ankle and your ears double pierced in the lobes, but that was it.

you rounded the corner and saw the neon sign over the glass doors to the shop, the shutters pulled down. you took a deep breath and tried the door, mildly surprised that it opened up. a tiny bell chimed over your head as you stepped inside.

the shop was small, but it was clean. absolutely pristine. for a tattoo shop called sin city, you were expecting a bit more of a grunge theme, not exactly the creamy white walls littered with black picture frames of flash art available for purchase, a tall cabinet filled with various jewelry for fresh piercings, plants in the corners surrounding two chairs that were supposedly for a waiting area. there was a tall partition behind the front desk, and the shop stretched backward, most likely leading to a tattoo chair and then a piercing table, respectively.

you stood awkwardly by the front door, gripping your bag in front of you. you had brought a few little snacks and some water in preparation for being there all day. you shuffled your feet as you heard footsteps coming up from the back of the shop, and suddenly you were reconsidering your outfit choice. you had tried to be helpful by going with a tight spaghetti strap tank top and a high riding skirt, knowing that you would probably need to shuffle clothes around during the course of the day.

your thoughts got clogged almost immediately when a brick wall of a man rounded the partition, scratching the back of his neck and staring down at you with big red eyes that looked curious, almost playful. he had to have been at least six-five, looming over you with broad shoulders and bulky arms that were covered in tattoos that went all the way down to his knuckles. his red hair was tied half-up half-down, the black roots at his forehead showing through.

you gaped at him like a fish out of water, face starting to feel warm as he glanced you up and down, and then smiled, revealing a wide set of sharp sharklike teeth. “aye, kats! i think she’s here!” he called over his shoulder before stepping behind the front desk. “you’re our pretty contest winner, right?”

“uh-”

“my name’s eijirou kirishima. i’m the main tattoo guy here.” he grinned at you, boyish and peppy, and it stifled your nerves somewhat as you returned the smile, but you were flustered beyond belief. you had seen the videos of him tattooing, you knew at least that his hands were big, but not the rest of him.

“ah, yeah, hi. i’m y/n. it’s nice to see your fsce for once.” you giggled nervously, and he laughed and nodded.

“yeah, we’re not all about showing who we are online. the page got too big, tokyo’s a big place, we don’t want the extra attention, yknow?” he smiled warmly at you as he bent down and shuffled through some paperwork under the desk, pulling it out and gesturing for you to come closer. “i know we already got a lot of your stuff online, but this is the last waiver. pretty much a final agreement that we get to do whatever we want to your body until you either tap out, or the clock hits six, whichever comes first.”

you made a little squeaking noise at his phrasing, glancing at his face as he just continued to smile. he fumbled around for a pen and held it out to you, and you reached to take it, but he snatched it back and leaned across the desk. “just so you know, you can say stop at any time. we’re not forcing you to be here. if you say no to an idea, we won’t do it. stuff like that. okay?”

you blinked at him. he seemed so genuine, really making sure he was thorough in his explanations of the paperwork and of your position in this. it helped you take a deep breath and nod. “i know. i’m all good.”

“awesome. you seem like a real trooper.” he chuckled in a deep, rumbly voice, and finally held the pen back out to you.

you took it, your soft fingers brushing over his rough skin and making you feel like your hand was alight in flames. you signed your name at the bottom of the form, dated it, and slid it back across the desk to kirishima. he just grinned at you and shoved the paper into the desk again.

“bakugou! come on, man! she’s all good!” kirishima leaned his head around the partition, and you jumped slightly when the familiar voice of kirishima’s partner sounded from the back of the shop.

“i fucking heard you the first time, i’m not fucking deaf!”

“well, just hurry up!” kirishima laughed and turned back to you. “sorry, he’s a real stickler for making sure his spot is all clean. i’m clean, but he’s a neat freak.”

“who’re you calling a neat freak, red?” a slightly shorter man stepped out from down the hallway, and again you felt your breath catch in your throat.

he was still tall, but far more intimidating in his black wife beater and jeans. he took off his mask that had been covering the lower half of his face, revealing a nose piercing and snake bites around plush lips. his fluffy blonde hair was standing up in all the right places, piercing red eyes looking your form up and down as he cracked his knuckles. his arms were littered patchwork-style, much different than kirishima’s full sleeves, and he clearly liked to hit the gym seven days a week.

you gulped and shifted your weight as bakugou’s eyes drifted over you. “name’s katsuki bakugou. you’ve already met red. didya sign the form?”

“uh, yes. all of the forms.”

“great.” his eyes locked on yours. clearly, this guy was all about professionalism and business, at least while he was on the clock. then he turned his head to kirishima. “so, where did you want to start her?”

you found yourself laid down on your chest, head turned to the side to stare at bakugou’s back as he organized something off to the side. music was playing, but you could hardly hear it over the buzzing of the tattoo gun and the weight of kirishima’s hand on your back.

you chewed on your lip as you felt the needle trace over the skin of your lower back, occasionally lifting to get more ink, only to return and start the ministrations over again. it wasn’t an easy spot to get ink done; tramp stamps were adorable and sexy, but the skin on that part of a person’s back is notoriously thin. despite this, however, you always found the pain to be… enjoyable.

you felt kirishima’s free hand slide over to the middle of your back, splaying out, applying some pressure to get a better angle as he leaned over you. if he wasn’t wearing a mask, you would be able to feel his warm breaths fanning out against your sensitive skin. your eyes fluttered and you did your best not to move as your neurons fired over the sheer size of his hand against your back. splayed out like that, his fingertips were on one side and the heel of his hand almost felt like it was on the other. perhaps your perception was being warped on account of the buzzing needle poking your back, but you couldn’t be entirely sure.

kirishima added more pressure even as the needle lifted away from your skin, pushing you down into the bed, making you squeak softly. bakugou’s head turned briefly to you, glinting in the white overhead lighting almost devilishly, before turning away again.

“so,” kirishima’s low voice made you flinch slightly, having been entranced by the weight of him looming over your form, “i don’t really see any ink on you. is this your first time?” you heard him chuckle into his mask as he waited for you to relax again, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin to calm you down, before pressing the needle down again. “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, hun.”

you felt like some kind of high schooler talking about her virginity. “it’s- it’s fine. no, it’s not my first, but it’s my first big one. i’ve got a little one on my ankle.”

“your ankle?” he repeated, still pressing the needle to your skin and definitely coloring a shape in. “who did that for you? wasn’t us.”

“right, yeah.” you giggled slightly, really trying not to move as you wiggled the foot that held the little tattoo. “just an old friend who was an apprentice somewhere else.”

“ankle’s a rough place for a first tattoo,” grumbled bakugou, finally turning towards you and sitting down in a chair a little ways away, manspreading in your peripheral. “how’d you sit for that?”

“it hurt, but i liked it.” you mumbled back honestly, glancing back when you felt kirishima put the tattoo gun down and reach with a gloved hand towards your ankle, bending your leg at the knee to study the work.

“hm. it’s real cute on you, but i would’ve done it a little different.” his thumb brushed over the tattoo, over the thin skin of your ankle, sending a spike of heat through your body. “i could touch it up later.” he guided your leg back down and brushed his hand over the back of your thigh briefly before picking his tattoo gun back up and reapplying that heavy pressure to your back again.

“yeah, okay…” you murmured breathily, feeling small underneath kirishima’s weight and the power of bakugou’s gaze where he was staring at you, at kirishima, at how kirishima’s hands left indents in your skin as he worked.

your mouth felt like it was full of cotton, your head feeling like all the blood had drained from it and gone south. you shouldn’t be thinking like this, feeling like this, not while effectively getting stabbed thousands of times per minute.

bakugou hummed as he stood up again to get within your line of sight. “you said you liked the pain, huh? you one of those weird people that gets a high off of getting ink done?”

you felt your face burst with heat, unable to move as you opened your mouth and stammered. kirishima chuckled behind his mask.

“don’t tease, kats.”

“‘m not teasin’. i was just sayin’ that i agree with her.” bakugou smirked at you before stepping around the wall to go get a water from the fridge.

kirishima’s free hand slid from your middle back to just above your ass, his thumb rubbing into the fabric of your tight skirt as he worked.

“you’re sitting really well for this, doll. ‘m proud. probably one of my favorite things to do is back tattoos. especially these.”

you hummed softly in the back of your throat, probably mumbling a thank you that just made him laugh again.

you didn’t say anything when his free hand squeezed your ass as he leaned back to get more ink in the gun.

kirishima had spread the second skin across your pretty new tramp stamp with precision, making sure it wouldn’t wrinkle or peel away until your tattoo was healed. you were given a snack of chips and a bottle of water to recuperate while bakugou prepped his area, pulling on a mask and snapping black latex gloves over his hands. “so, how ya feelin’?”

“good,” you took a breath as you capped your water, sitting quietly on the tattoo bench and waiting to move to the piercing table. “ready to move on, i guess.”

“hope you don’t mind, but i took some photos when red was doing you.” he glanced over his shoulder, and you smiled and waved it off.

“i don’t mind at all. my friend didn’t believe me when i said i was actually gonna come.”

“that so?” bakugou cocked a brow, his mouth hidden behind the black mask. “anyway, what’re you thinking for this next bit? industrial? nose?”

“ah.” you shifted on the bench, glancing away from him as kirishima rounded the corner. “i was, uh. i was thinking i could get my… i could get my nipples pierced first? get the worst ones out of the way?”

kirishima blinked once and immediately shot a look to bakugou, who made eye contact. it was like telepathy; there was a silent exchange between them before bakugou nodded and waved for you to step over. “sure, whatever. it’s definitely not the worst pain, though.”

“really?” you stood on jelly legs and walked over to the piercing bench, sitting down in front of bakugou, who pulled a chair over to sit.

“mhm. worst i would say for a girl is the clitoral hood.”

you flushed and shook your head. “no thanks. i think i’ll stick to this for now.”

“okay.” bakugou sat back in his chair, staring at you. you stared back, tilting your head. bakugou furrowed his brows and clicked his tongue, making an ‘up’ motion with two fingers. only then did it click that you needed to take your shirt off.

you looked around as you started to tug your tank top up, looking over at kirishima, who was leaning against the wall with fascination. “ah, sorry! if you really want, i can leave.”

“no! no, it’s fine.” you shook your head, and finally got the courage to lift your tank top up and over your head. in preparation for this, you had simply forgone your bra in the morning.

you were left in just your skirt and panties, essentially. kirishima hummed low in his throat, earning him a glare from bakugou. you felt like you were on fire when bakugou reached a hand out to your shoulder. “lay back. slow.”

you shuddered under his grasp and laid back on the table, bringing your feet up and bending your knees to be a little more comfortable. your nipples pebbled and hardened from the cold air of the parlor.

bakugou studied your tits with an intense gaze, clearly focused on his job in a way that kirishima was not. where kirishima was flirty, groping and grabbing, bakugou was cold and practiced.

“so this is gonna go something like this. one of these is gonna hurt more than the other. when i tell you, you gotta breathe in, and then breathe out all at once. it’ll make the pain a little easier to handle.”

“okay.”

“i’ll be quick, but we gotta do one at a time.” he grabbed a skin safe marker and finally his hands reached for one of your tits, rubbing his thumb into the skin as he marked where the needle would enter and exit. you felt like you were shaking, being grabbed and examined in such a professional manner.

“you can’t have any fuckin’ saliva or jizz or whatever touch these till they’re fully healed, you got that?”

you squeaked, almost jumping in surprise at his words, before laughing and shaking your head. “no worries there.”

“you sure?” bakugou tilted his head, eyebrow raised, and kirishima laughed as he walked over towards the bench.

you didn’t get a chance to answer bakugou, because kirishima was by your head, offering his massive hand to you. “you can squeeze my hand so you don’t pass out.”

you looked up at him through your lashes, squirming on the bench as bakugou squeezed your tit. you didn’t answer, just reaching your hand up to hold onto kirishima’s. his hand was large, warm, and so rough. you wanted to feel his-

“alright sugar. take a deep breath in for me.”

you sucked in a breath through your teeth, and then suddenly a white hot pain shot through your body, something never experienced before. your vision whited out and you may or may not have cried out and dug your nails into kiri’s hand, gripping it tightly.

your head swam as you were encouraged to breathe, and then to breathe in again as the wide bar was slipped through the new piercing. you yelped and jerked on the table, making bakugou put his gloved hand flat between your tits to try and ground you. “relax, brat. stay fucking still. gotta get this stupid ball on.”

“aw, she’s cryin’.” kiri chuckled and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. your cheeks did feel wet as the pain subsided slowly. you whimpered as bakugou leaned away from you and reached to grab another needle package and the second bar.

“one more, drama queen. you can do it. just one more.”

“already?” you whined, shaking your head at him as he scooted his chair closer to get a better angle on your other nipple.

you did not get a chance to beg for mercy. “breathe in deep, good fuckin’ girl.”

you screamed this time. bakugou had been right, one hurt more than the other. your head felt so light all of a sudden, your vision blurring as you gripped kirishima’s hand like a vice and shook. your breath punched out of you when the bar was pushed through and the little ball at the end was screwed on.

you stared up at the ceiling and tried to get your bearings as kirishima let go of your hand to pet your hair and keep it away from your tears. “you did it, pretty girl. you got it. just breathe. did such a great job, yeah?”

you gathered your thoughts together as you listened to bakugou get up and take his gloves and his mask off, tossing them away, ever the professional. he walked back over to where you were laying and held up a mirror over you to show you your new jewelry. the sight made the pain worth it; your nipples, perky and red and hard, glittering with bars pushed through.

“what do ya think?” bakugou cocked his head at you, and you let out a deep breath.

“they look… really nice.”

“really sexy, more like.” kirishima chuckled over you as he openly ogled your chest.

you made a noise of surprise, which was immediately followed by your voice getting caught in your throat when bakugou’s free hand moved to start rubbing up and down your thigh. “you okay?”

“y-yeah.”

“you need a break?”

“i think so.”

bakugou nodded and looked to kirishima, who broke into a grin and bent over you just a little, his voice dropping an octave. “let’s take a nice long break, then, huh doll? you think you might wanna relax a bit with us? take your mind off the pain?”

“what?” you shifted to sit up on your elbows, wincing from the pain in your chest, looking between them.

kirishima laughed, “come on, doll. i know you didn’t come in here wearing just that tiny skirt for nothin’.”

“you can say no.” bakugou’s hand moved off your thigh, clearly the more level headed of the two. “we’ll take a break and come back in a half hour to keep going-“

“wait.” you flushed and put up a hand to make him shut up, glancing between them. “you’re not- together?”

“well, yeah, fucking obviously we are,” bakugou rolled his eyes at you while kiri chuckled, “but if we see a hot chick, we’re not gonna say no.”

“true.” kiri was practically purring.

they were standing over you, broad shoulders and tattooed hands and muscle, red eyes honed in on your shirtless form, and for some reason you allowed your inhibitions to fall away.

you took a deep breath and pouted. “just don’t make me get an infection on my new piercings.”

“never.” bakugou cracked his first real grin, foxlike and dirty, already moving back down towards your legs to start pushing your knees apart. you sat up a bit more, onto your hands, sucking in a breath when the bench dipped under bakugou’s added weight as he pushed your knees far apart and revealed your plain cotton panties with an obvious wet spot in the crotch, your pussy throbbing with the realization.

bakugou hummed as he slid rough fingertips down the insides of your thighs. “look at that shit, red. she’s already soaked. got this pretty pussy all needy even after pokin’ her.”

“figured as much. she was all spaced out during her tat.” kiri’s meaty hand slipped around the column of your throat, practically engulfing it in one palm as he turned your head to make you look up at him.

you gasped, and kirishima’s mouth came crashing down onto yours; he had to practically crouch to get even close to you where you were sitting. your hands flew up to his hair, body twisting slightly as bakugou started to work his fingers along your hips to further push your skirt up around them.

you felt yourself start to whimper as bakugou pushed your panties to the side and slipped two fingers through your wet folds. you shook and moaned as his fingers skillfully rubbed slow circles into your clit, making your hips jerk.

kiri laughed against your lips and squeezed his hand slightly around the column of your throat, pulling away from your mouth to look at your dazed expression. “lay back, doll.”

he guided you back to lay on the bench again, letting go of your throat only for a moment to start unbuckling his belt. “kats, i’m takin’ her mouth first, mkay?”

“hm?” bakugou glanced up from where he was licking his lips, about to press his nose to your pussy. “oh, yeah sure whatever. i’m getting a taste first.”

“someone’s got an oral fixation.”

“shut the fuck up, you red-haired loser.”

you felt yourself start to giggle at their interactions, but suddenly there were lips wrapped tightly around your cliff and a fat cock hanging over your face, drooling with pre.

you swallowed as your mouth practically started to water. your head was spinning as bakugou worked his tongue against your clit, a finger starting to push its way into your right, wet heat. you moaned and felt your eyes flutter, fingers curling into the sides of the piercing bench. “ah, i-i don’t know if i can fit-“

“shh. all you gotta do is swallow. can you try just the tip?” kiri cocked his head at you, suddenly all puppy eyes as he stroked his cock to his boyfriend eating you out.

you whimpered and nodded. how could you say no? you ground your hips against bakugou’s face as your lips parted, and kirishima pushed just the fat head of his cock past them with a low groan.

you felt full. bakugou started to push a second finger into your weeping hole, drool and your juices dripping down his chin and dotting the bench as he ate you out and found the spongy spot within you that made your back arch off the bench, knees attempting and failing to snap shut around his head. bakugou growled against your pussy, unhappy with you disturbing his meal.

you couldn’t respond what with kirishima shallowly thrusting into your mouth, working inch after inch into you. you felt his heady tip hit the back of your throat as your head hung down over the edge of the bench, and you coughed and sputtered.

“shh, careful, careful. breathe.” his hand returned to your throat, feeling the way he slipped further and further in. his balls hung down in your face as he started to effectively fuck your throat, groaning when you whined around him.

you did your best to suck his cock, slobbering and drooling down your cheeks as your eyes rolled back when bakugou removed his mouth and rubbed circles into your clit with his thumb. “she tastes fuckin’ good.”

“yeah? y’think so?”

“yeah,” bakugou breathed out, almost like an offering, and as he pulled his fingers out of your wet pussy, he shoved them directly into kirishima’s mouth.

kiri groaned loudly and sucked on bakugou’s fingers with the eagerness of a dog, gripping your throat with one hand and bakugou’s wrist in the other. he made sure bakugou’s fingers were clean before letting go and rolling his hips against your face. “shit.”

“mhm.” bakugou was panting as he hurriedly fussed with his jeans, shoving them down enough to get his cock free. it was difficult, positioning himself on the bench, but he made it work as he slapped his tip against your clit.

you cried out and gagged again on kirishima’s fat cock, gurgling pathetically while they both laughed at you.

“poor babydoll,” bakugou hissed, pressing his tip to your entrance, “she can hardly breathe, eiji.”

“she’s doin’ a good fucking job. i can feel how deep i am in her throat.”

“i can fuckin’ see that.” bakugou snapped right back before taking a deep breath and sinking so slowly into your pussy.

your walls fluttered around his cock as he sheathed himself inside you, one hand gripping your hip dangerously tight and the other reaching to grab for kirishima’s free hand. “fuck, red, she feels so fucking tight.”

“if- if you think her pussy’s tight, wait till you feel her throat.” kiri panted lowly as he grabbed his boyfriend’s hand over you.

you felt like an object, a plaything, lightheaded and so, so full, almost screaming when they both started to fuck into you at once; they were slightly off pace, both focused on their own pleasure, chasing their highs and smothering you all the while.

kirishima’s hand slid from your throat to the middle of your chest, a compressing weight that left you truly breathless as his balls practically smacked into you. you did your best to try and suck his cock, really, you did, but it was so difficult when bakugou was bullying your pussy and making you shake and cry out.

kirishima was the first to falter, his hips starting to jerk erratically as your vision blurred from tears of pleasure. “oh fuck yeah, fuck, ‘m gonna cum-“

“already? pathetic.” bakugou snapped, only egging kirishima on and making him whine as he tossed his head back and came deep in your throat, making you gag and choke.

he didn’t pull out until the thick, heady ropes of his cum were seated on your tongue, taking a step back to let his fat cock slap wetly against his thigh. it was clear, then, that his refractory period was short; he was already at half mast again as he watched bakugou fuck you into the bench, hiking one of your legs up around his waist to get deeper.

you cried out loudly, voice ragged and ruined as bakugou’s thumb returned to your clit.

“come on pretty girl, lemme feel you cum around my fuckin’ cock first. come on. i know you’re close. i can feel ya squeezin’ me in. shit, baby, fucking cum for me.”

your back arched off the table and your eyes rolled back as you came hard around his cock, your vision going white as you jerked and spasmed on the table. bakugou moaned and dropped his head forward, holding on until the last second when he could pull out and cum all over your twitching cunt, jerking himself off all the way. thick ropes of cum splattered against your skin and made you shiver, all parts of you sensitive.

kirishima, cock still out and hard again, stepped over to swipe his fingers through your pussy and get a taste of yours and bakugou’s cum, groaning deep in his throat as he pressed an almost chaste kiss to bakugou’s cheek. “you wanna fuck her throat next?”

“fuck yes i do.”

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