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Spring Fever

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“Bakugo what are you doing?”

A cursed slipped under the blond’s breath, his ears standing on point after popping out when the voice startled him. He decided to ignore it for a second, instead focusing everything into shoving the ruined sheets into trash shoot as quickly as possible.

“Fucking nothing, leave me alone.”

“Are … those your bed sheets?”

“So what if they are? Who the fuck cares Half and Half.”

Bakugo growled, slamming the door to the shoot closed before facing the ice spirit’s indifferent gaze.

“Where’s Kirishima?”

“I sent him on an errand, what’s it matter?”

“Just appears that when left to your own devices you completely destroy your own sheets—were those burn marks? Oh look at that your tails are puffing, honestly Bakugo lately you’ve barely managed to keep your human form up for more than half an hour. Do you need to see a doctor?”

“Shut up Shut up SHUTUP, I’m fucking fine. I just got tired looking at the same damn sheets all the time. Leave me alone. You’re not my keeper and neither is Kirishima.”

“He’s your agent, I would say he is.”

“Fuck OFF.”

The fox spirit stormed down the hall, leaving a confused Todoroki to ponder the garbage shoot before deciding that Bakugo’s odd personality wasn’t worth investigating, and he continued his way to the lounge. 

Bakugo stared in disgust at his bare mattress; a growl rose is Bakugo’s throat and his tails flicked at his ankles as he stared in disgust at his bare mattress, a reminder of Todoroki’s infuriating comment. He shifted back, his ears and tails sliding away with smoke and grimaced. After doing this so many times Bakugo could tell that it took seconds longer than it should have. God, he hated spring. Hated the way it made his skin itch, the way it made heat coil right through his blood. No matter how high he cranked the A/C up or how cold he set his shower, he could never cool down. He could never feel anything less than warm—just hot enough to feel irritating, enough heat to constantly linger in the back of his mind. During the night he sweated through his sheets, beyond anything a washing machine could fix. His powers were harder control like this; in the morning he set the sheets ablaze. Hearing Kirishima’s morning knock on the door he panicked and ordered his guard to run to the store to grab him something he thought of on the spot. Kiri was dense sometimes. He wasn’t sure if that was from his honest to god personality or the fact he was an Oni, brawn over brains, the point was: Kiri didn’t know what was happening. He didn’t comment on Bakugo’s even shorter temper, and he didn’t make a point about why he refused to sunbathe in the garden or why he hadn’t been waking the Oni up to light the fireplace at ungodly hours to sleep better.

Bakugo flushed, don’t think about him. That had been a whole issue in and of itself. Spring brought an itch, an itch that Bakugo refused to think about. An itch that left him in more cold showers then he ever wanted. One that woke up him in the middle of the night and had him snarling into the sheets, trying so hard to find a release that would never come. One that would instead leave him biting into his pillow until it ripped under his sharp teeth and the bed sheets were stained with precum and sweat but there was never any relief. It made it hard to look anyone in the eye. It wasn’t uncontrollable—he wasn’t an animal, he wasn’t mindless; he loathes to call it sensitive. Either way he found it dangerous to think about the redhead, more often then he would like to admit the fantasies that tortured him through endless frustration were of Kirishima. It was just never enough, nothing his own hands could do to fix, half the time he was worried he’d light himself on fire. Not that his flames could burn him—the concept just infuriated him. It always left his brain fuzzy, less sharp, it was insufferable.

A groan slipped through his lips as he pulled new sheets from the linen closet and threw them on the bed. Too hot to bother putting put them on, he grumbled and left for the bathroom, throwing off his sweats and shirt. The dark stains on them too telling, he splashed cold water in his face, and started staring his naked form in the mirror with a grimace. He had been human for ten minutes only and already his teeth were sharpened, his eyes flickered between normal red and into their unnatural slits. His hair stood on end, flickering as if his ears were going to slip out any moment.


He barely managed to pull on new sweats and a red t-shirt he didn’t remember owning when a knock to his door told him Kirishima was back. He was Bakugo’s only visitor and the Kitsune grumbled before heading over, yanking the door open with a sneer,

“What do you want Shitty Hair?”

“I have your strawberry mochi?”

Bakugo felt his ears pop out and he reddened in embarrassment before snatching the bag from Kiri’s hands, grumbling as he walked back into the room with the Oni following inside.


Bakugo ignored the comment in favor of sitting on his couch, and clawing at the box trying to open it. He heard the shifting of sheets and it didn’t take heavy brain work to make the connection that Kirishima was making his bed for him. Part of him wanted to snap at the Oni; he wasn’t a child he could do that himself, but a different more annoying part of him was happily settled that the one provider he didn’t mind in his space was organizing his area. Provider? Shaking his head, he finally ripped the top of the box open with twitching claws. He pulled the small plastic free with a slight tremble as if he heat in his body would melt the ice cream from their container.



“I ran into Todoroki on my way up here.”

Bakugo groaned, picking up a mochi ball with his clawed nail before bringing it to his mouth and taking a bite, letting out a pleased noise of bliss at the cold feeling. Finally. Unfortunately the relief was short lived; no amount of cold ice cream could calm spring and Kirishima’s news grated against his brain.

“What does he have to do with anything?”

Bakugo was growling now. He felt his teeth sharpen as he tried to swallow the saliva suddenly flooding his mouth. Everything was uncomfortably hot, but Bakugo refused to pant with the rising heat. Feigning indifference, he finished off another mochi ball.

“He said you torched and disposed off all your bed sheets, and I’m assuming by these new ones that was true?”

“So what? I needed a change.”

Bakugo’s ears twitched as they picked up a sigh from the Oni, but he ignored it and ate another mochi ball, choosing to avoid everything other then the cold ball of strawberry ice cream.


Golden eyes with slit pupils shot up, looking up at the redhead now in front of him. When did he get there? However, this surprised train of thought was lost as his eyes settled on the man in front of him. It’s easy to ignore someone when you have mochi to focus on instead. It is not easy to ignore someone when he is right in front of you, and the thought that he looks yummier than your ice cream in creeping into your mind. FOCUS. It’s impossible to focus though, not when Kiri’s right there, not when Kiri calls him by his first name—something he only does in those rare moments when they’re shifted. Never like this, when they’re supposed to be keeping up formalities.

“You’re having trouble keeping your form…”

“What’s your fucking point Shitty Hair?”

“You burnt your bed sheets, your form isn’t staying and your reactions are slower than usual…. even your body temperature seems to be so warm it’s melting your ice cream.”

Baku blinked before looking down at his fingers, fingers holding the third mochi piece in it. The rice paste limp and a drip of strawberry ice cream was sliding down his fingers. Quickly, he popped the mochi into his mouth, and was about to lick his fingers clean when Kiri’s hand circled his wrist and pulled his fingers away. 

“Let go.”

“Katsuki what’s going on? I know I’m not as clever as a fox, but I’m not an idiot.”

“It’s nothing, you’re seeing shit.”





“You’re wearing my shirt. The one you said you were throwing away.”

The heat crashed like a wave through his body. A blush spreading through every expanse of skin and his tails slipping out in an explosion of steam, instantly covering himself in embarrassment. Fuck fuck fuck FUCK. How could he have forgotten? How did he not notice how baggy the shirt was when he slipped it on? It was two weeks ago, and spring first rolled around, when the warmth and arousal finally hit him. From the beginning, it was unbearable. The day itself was warm, and as a result everything felt worse.  He started secluding himself; trying to keep away from everyone. Kiri obviously didn’t understand. He was the Kitsune’s personal bodyguard after all. Bakugo would rather die than tell him. Instead, he lied, saying the A/C in his room wasn’t working and demanding the Oni bring him a glass of water from the kitchen before he let the man even look at the electrical box. Long story short, one moment a trembling Bakugo was reaching out for the glass of water with his eyes resolutely pointed towards the floor, and the next moment Kirishima was wearing a very wet shirt. The soaked material clung to the Oni’s abs and suddenly Bakugo could see too much. In a panic, Bakugo demanded he remove the wet article of clothing, which had been a mistake; resulting in the Kitsune pushing Kiri out the door the second his shirt was off, claiming it was ruined and that he would trash the garment.

Except he hadn’t trashed it. No, he carefully dried it while refusing to think about what he was doing. Using the fixation as a distraction from the memory of defined muscles under red material, or the split second of bare skin he saw before the Oni was shoved out the door. To Bakugo’s utter misfortune, the shirt as worse when dry, tantalizing even. Bakugo’s nose was sensitive, and he could smell him like he was in the room.

It happened once—late at night, maybe a little after 3AM, when his sheets became uncomfortably hot and he woke from an uneasy sleep to rip the blankets from his body. There was a restless ache in his bones that matched the drowsiness in his mind, a battle that resulted in sluggish rubbing against the mattress. Staining the sheets, he was painfully hard but no release came. It never did. He wasn’t thinking when he grabbed the shirt; it was on his nightstand, folded as if he was debating giving it back because of course water couldn’t actually stain. Bakugo couldn’t say when he buried his face in the red fabric, or when he closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of Kirishima until he could imagine the Oni in bed with him. Unfortunately, his body could never be tricked that so easily. It was the closest he ever came to release, but he refused to acknowledge what that implied. When the frustration—when tittering on the edge of climax for several agonizing minutes—became too much, he abandoned the bed for an ice cold shower. It was only after the shower that he realized whose shirt was crumpled up on his pillow. He threw it in his closet immediately after and refused to look at it since.


Tails moved of their own accord, turning to putty at the sound of that voice. Forcing Bakugo to cover his face with his own hands, ignoring the strawberry ice cream that stained one finger. The room was so warm now, hot, suffocating—and the release of steam only made it worse. The Oni’s hold on his tails became scorching as Kiri shifted forms. The hands on Bakugo’s tails growing larger than any humans could. There was a tug on one of the hands covering his face, too strong to resist, and Bakugo found himself meeting Kirishima’s piercing gaze. The Oni’s stare was long and intense, and soon enough Bakugo’s pupils narrowed to slits to challenge the look. He thought the Oni was going to speak but he simply stared, as if reading something on Bakugo’s face,


Bakugo hated how soft his voice sounded, like he lost his voice and was barely getting it back. Kirishima didn’t respond though only, brought the hand to the Kitsune’s face. Bakugo’s eyes widened as he felt the hot slip of the Oni’s tongue against his finger, licking up the strawberry ice cream that had almost dried at this point. Bakugo watched the Oni’s tongue slowly slip over the digit, careful to keep his sharp teeth away. He watched Kiri pull his mouth away, only for the Oni to lean forward and box the Kitsune against the couch. Bakugo closed his eyes in confusion but he was rewarded with the hot lick of Kiri’s tongue against his cheek, cleaning any lingering mochi. The Kitsune shivering as the Oni pulled away just a little. If Bakugo thought the warmth under his skin was irritable before, it was unbearable now. Everywhere Kiri touched was on fire, and the fox spirit was already panting. The itch under his skin intensifying, tingling, demanding, and Bakugo squirmed trying to hide the already leaking erection tenting his sweats. He wanted to die. His sweats, already pushed down by the growth of his tails, only emphasized the intensity of his arousal. He couldn’t stop Kiri from looking down and noticing.

Bakugo tried to pull his arm free but Kiri’s hold only tightened. The pressure throbbing through the Kistune’s sensitive body, forcing a whimper from his lips. He was met with an appeased grumble from the Oni, which brought Bakugo’s eyes back into focus and met Kiri’s eyes in confusion. Kirishima extended his arms towards the blond, boxing him in one last time before reaching his ass and picking up the fox spirit effortlessly, like he weighed no more than a piece of paper. If the hot sensation of Kiri’s hands on his ass wasn’t enough to get the heat coiling in Bakugo’s stomach, the ease in which he was picked up left him biting his lips and his arms instantly wrapping around the Oni. 


“It’s because of the season change isn’t it?”




“Does this happen every spring?”


“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”



“Because it’s not something I want to talk about!”

Kirishima let the pouting fox spirit down on the freshly made bed, the flush and sweat of his skin already apparent. The Oni had never seen Bakugo like this before, and he felt guilty for not recognizing the signs. But Bakugo had so many moods, and being the only Kitsune Kiri knew, he couldn’t have expected Bakugo to be in tuned with that side of it. Settling himself against the bed, careful of the creak of his own weight on the poor frame, he gently situated Bakugo against his chest, his own legs carefully hooking with the fox’s to keep them spread. 

“You can’t take care of it yourself can you?”

“…. No..”

“Has it been like this sense spring started?”

The Oni only received a nod at that, humming, Kirishima’s hands carefully settled on Bakugo’s hips. Fingers fluttering against the hem of his shirt—he liked seeing Bakugo in his shirt, it did something—something possessive to him that he didn’t have time to think about at the moment but he would later. As nice as the scene was, it was clear the heat was becoming too much for the fox. Carefully sliding the fabric up, Kirishima let his fingers roll against the Kitsune’s skin. He could feel Bakugo shiver while he moved the shirt up further, he also felt the heat radiating off the skin. It reminded him briefly of when Bakugo would curl up in front of the fire or in the afternoon sun to nap and his skin would get warm from it—but this was different. This heat had a buzz to it, left a shiver and made Bakugo’s lips quiver like he was biting back noises.

“It’s okay Katsuki, I’ll take care of you.”

The Kitsune’s tails flickered, curling around the Oni; he felt strength in their pull but no actual force. If anything they were caressing him, trying to bring him closer. Kiri’s hands moved to the sweat pants, the fabric riding low on the blond’s hips—Kiri wasn’t entirely sure how they were even staying on at this point; it took only a slight tug to pull them down. The fabric was clammy in his hold, but not yet completely ruined by sweat collecting there. It should be gross, but the Oni didn’t mind. Instead he just pushed the fabric down as low as their current position would allow. A flustered hiss slid past gritted teeth as Bakugo’s erection hit the cool air, his hips twitching slightly.

“Don’t just stare at it, do something!”

He didn’t mean to yell, his voice suddenly gravely and the blush on his face only got worse when the only response Kiri gave him was a chuckle, before large hands slipped around his cock. Bakugo let out a lewd moan as drool slid down his lips; his canines bit into his bottom lip in an attempt to cut off the noise, a bead of blood welling up as a result.

“Would you look at that, my hand pretty much covers your whole cock in this form.”



Bakugo retracts all complaints about being hot before; this tight grip was real heat. It was everything. His body felt like it was on fire, and at some point parts of his skin might have lit with actual flames. His powers felt so wild he wouldn’t be surprised. It was no consequence to Kiri because his skin was too strong for it to hurt him. Not that Bakugo had time to think about it. He couldn’t focus on anything other then the tight heat wrapped around him as the Oni slowly stroked him off. It was overwhelming. Everything felt hot, his skin, the air, the tingling sensation screaming through his cells, because for once there was someone touching him. Something other than his own hands on his body was touching him, and it felt incredible. For once the heat was welcome. The coiling wasn’t an unbearable pain, instead the heat felt good—so fucking good, Kiri’s chest against his spine made his skin tingle and he arched his back to increase the sensation, burying himself in Oni’s body. God Kiri was huge like this- he was towering over Bakugo, his entire body compressing the Kitsune. There was something possessive about it that made the fox’s blood sing. The Oni bent down as much as he could, bringing his lips close to the fox’s ears sinful words dripped from his mouth as he stroked Bakugo’s length. The praise had an embarrassingly quick effect, a guttural purr slipping from the Kistune’s throat—not soft like a cat but something wild and deep. He hated how easily he fell prey to each word. How numb his mind got, like all coherent thought was melting away in the warmth.

‘oh you got more excited when I said that, such a good boy’ the sight of his own cock leaking more precum slicking up Kiri’s large hand, left him throbbing—already on the edge. Each sweet praise and teasing comment pushing him closer and closer until finally, for the first time all damn spring, it boiled over.

Kirishima couldn’t help but coo softly to Bakugo; the fox turning so docile compared to his usual personality. Not that Kiri didn’t like how Bakugo normally was— he fell in love with that side of the blond after all. However, this side, this soft needy one, was something he could get used to, something he could relish, keep to himself and indulge in. Bakugo had never looked so wrecked from a hand job, cum covering his fingers Kiri pulled away only to receive a soft whine, the Kistune’s cock still hard despite the recent release.  

You made a mess Katuski.”

Kiri only received a grumble that faded into a purr as the Kitsune rubbed against him. The redhead sighed and wiped the drool away from Bakugo’s lips before bringing that hand down to replace the one previously around the Kitsune’s arousal. Bakugo’s lewd moans slipped through the air again; his own trembling hands grabbed Kiri’s, bringing the cum covered fingers to his lips. The Oni’s rhythm faltered as he watched the Kistune slowly start to lick his fingers clean. A wave of heat sliding through Kirishima, his eyes refused to look away even when Bakugo finished and he sucked the middle and index finger into his mouth, licking lazily.

Kiri lost track of time, Bakugo’s body throbbing to an ever-insatiable heat. Two climaxes were enough to finally lull him to sleep, the fox spirit collapsing into his first deep sleep all spring. Keeping Kiri in bed as a body pillow, only to wake up grinding against his thigh and the tingle under this skin returning now that he finally had a way to satiate it.  Soft pleas of ‘more’ until hands weren’t enough, until even with his mouth, Bakugo whined and asked for more. He continued to beg until Kiri got to feel exactly how hot Bakugo’s body was running and Kirishima couldn’t ever deny him a request. Not when he looked up at him with such a desperate expression, eyes glossy with heat. Kirishima could only indulge him, could only spoil him. Until Bakugo finally crawled up his chest and slept for a whole day, and after that the blond seemed more comfortable in his skin. Willingly slipping into Kiri’s lap whenever he needed attention or something more than he could give himself. The Oni, now aware of the discomfort the fox spirit wouldn’t admit, changing out sheets and washing clothes until the ebbing’s of springs finally faded away and the heat under Bakugo’s skin settled.