“Ten Kissing Tips and Facts,” Kirishima reads aloud over Tooru’s invisible shoulder as the magazine shakes with her laughter. Class starts in a few minutes, but despite Iida’s best efforts everyone is still scattered across the room in loose, chatty groups.
From somewhere behind them, Kirishima hears Bakugou scoff derisively. He’s surprised; even a rude noise is way more than Bakugou usually contributes to these types of conversations.
Before Kirishima gets a chance to investigate further, Ashido picks up where he’d left off.
“Number one,” she reads out from her place on top of Tooru’s desk. “Nibble their earlobes.”
Three pairs of eyes immediately zero in on Yaoyorozu. She’s too busy writing announcements on the board to notice, but Jirou turns bright red and tells them all to fuck off.
Ashido laughs so hard she drops the magazine altogether, and then everyone scrambles for their seats as Aizawa walks into the classroom. The rest of the day is full of lectures and training, but Kirishima’s mind gets stuck on Bakugou’s reaction to the article.
He waits to ask about it until a few days later, in the stage after one of their sparring matches where they’ve already stretched to cool down but haven’t yet mustered up the energy to do anything except lie in the grass on the practice field. This way, he figures, Bakugou will be tired out and therefore less likely to make an attempt on his life.
“Hey,” he says at what he judges to be the perfect moment. “Have you ever kissed anyone?”
Bakugou, who’d been frowning off into the distance, aims his pissed-off look at Kirishima instead of the sky.
“Why the hell would I have?” he asks.
Kirishima shrugs. “It’s expected of kids our age, I guess,” he says. “And you’re pretty manly, aren’t you?”
In Kirishima’s opinion, it’s completely normal for a manly guy to wonder about another manly guy’s thoughts on kissing, but Bakugou just makes a weird spluttering noise and rips a chunk of grass up from the dirt.
“I don’t give a shit about kids our age,” he says.
Kirishima isn’t especially satisfied with that response, but he knows how to take a hint.
“Well,” he sighs as he pulls himself into a sitting position and inspects a bruise on his arm. “At least there’s one thing I can beat you at.”
Kirishima had meant it as an offhand remark, but as the smell of burnt grass hits his nose, he realizes it probably wasn’t taken as such. When he looks up again, Bakugou’s facial expression is downright scary.
The whole thing escalates quickly from there, but that’s to be expected when Bakugou is involved. Five minutes later, Kirishima is hardly even surprised to find himself in a somewhat more secluded area of the practice field, watching a bead of sweat slide down Bakugou’s forehead as they stand almost close enough for their noses to touch.
“I’m ready whenever you are,” Kirishima says, once the sweat bead makes it past Bakugou’s temple.
“Shut up,” says Bakugo. When he breathes, Kirishima can feel it against his mouth.
The primary reason that Kirishima had agreed to this is because it’s funny to see Bakugo get all worked up over the idea of losing to him. Still, the longer they stand there, the more curious he gets about whether or not kissing Bakugou might actually be nice.
A second later, he finds out.
It makes sense to Kirishima that Bakugou would kiss with more gusto than the average person, but he hadn’t qute expected to be tackled to the ground. The breath gets knocked out of him before he has a chance to activate his quirk, but Bakugou doesn’t let up at all. Instead, he seals his mouth over Kirishima’s with the force of an extra-strength vacuum cleaner.
Their noses and teeth mash together as Bakugou grabs Kirishima’s forearms to hold him in place, palms growing hotter by the second. He applies so much pressure that Kirishima fully expects to either be dead or in the middle of a crater before too long.
To die like this would be pretty uncool, so Kirishima goes limp underneath Bakugou and concentrates on working one hand free of his death grip. Once he has, he reaches up and gives Bakugou’s arm a hard pinch.
To his credit, Bakugou backs off when he feels it, and Kirishima works on catching his breath for a while. The last thirty seconds or so had been almost as exhausting as their entire sparring session.
“Wow,” he says once he feels ready to speak again. “That was horrible.”
Bakugou glowers and crosses his arms, like any second now he expects Kirishima to admit his mistake and declare him the smoothest guy who ever lived. If that’s what he’s waiting for, Kirishima thinks, he’ll have to wait forever.
“You’re a really bad kisser,” he says, just to drive the point home.
Bakugou shoves off of Kirishima and balls his hands into fists.
“Fuck you,” he says, but he looks a little too red in the face for Kirishima to take him seriously.
“But I still liked it,” he continues as he gets to his feet.
Somehow, impossibly, that’s true. The technical aspects need a lot of work, but the life-threatening pressure of Bakugou’s mouth on his had still managed to get Kirishima’s blood pumping. His question’s been answered; kissing Bakugou is nice, and he wants to do it again. Multiple times, if possible.
“Bullshit,” says Bakugou.
“I’m serious!” Kirishima says. He smiles his most charming smile. “You’ve got real potential. And if you ever want some pointers, I’m around.”
Bakugou’s expression starts to edge toward outright fury, so Kirishima flees the scene as quickly as possible. He’s not afraid, necessarily, but he does want to play it cool and give Bakugou some time to think about the offer.
Playing it cool turns out to be difficult when the person Kirishima needs to play it cool around is a classmate he sees every day, especially one who he always finds himself wanting to be around and crack jokes to and invite to stuff.
Still, he gives it his best effort, and it doesn’t take long for Bakugou to corner him by some lockers on his way back from the bathroom a few days later. For a while he just stands there and looks conflicted while Kirishima waits patiently. After a few more seconds, he slams a fist against the metal.
“Where should I meet you,” he grits out. He doesn’t elaborate, but Kirishima is pretty sure that he’ll lose his shot at a non-shitty makeout forever if he pretends not to know what Bakugou means at this point.
“Find me after school and I’ll show you,” he says.
“Whatever,” says Bakugou. Apparently that doesn’t sound belligerent enough, because he also tosses a “fuckface” over his shoulder as as he walks away.
The rest of the day drags on, but once it finally ends Kirishima can feel Bakugou glaring a hole through his back as he says goodbye to his classmates. When he heads out the door, Bakugou follows after him from a distance of about twenty paces. That seems way more conspicuous than if they’d just walked next to each other, but Kirishima doesn’t question it.
He leads Bakugou through their enormous school building until they get to a faraway classroom at the end of a hall, guaranteed by Yaoyorozu to be completely deserted for as long as Kirishima needs to use it.
“So,” Kirishima says, once he unlocks the classroom and ushers Bakugou inside. “Kissing lessons.”
“Fuck off, lessons,” says Bakugou. His whole body looks tense.
“Okay, sorry,” Kirishima says. “Just think of it like extra sparring, or something.”
Bakugou doesn’t seem to like that much better, but Kirishima has big plans for this afternoon, so he steps forward anyway.
Bakugou’s fists clench, and Kirishima wonders if he should harden up. Maybe this whole thing was a ruse, and he actually just came here to kick Kirishima’s ass. He decides to take his chances, bracing for impact as Bakugou lunges forward and pushes his mouth against Kirishima’s. He manages to stay on his feet this time, which definitely counts as an improvement on both ends.
Still, Kirishima puts both of his hands on Bakugou’s forearms and eases him backward, ignoring the murderous look in his eyes.
“I love the confidence,” he says. According to the internet, the best way to teach someone is to lead with a compliment.
“Go slower, though,” he continues. “Like this.”
He leans in and stops short about three-quarters of the way to Bakugou’s mouth, pleased when Bakugou doesn’t pull away or try to knock his teeth out.
“Try it,” he says, voice quieter now that they‘re so close.
For a long time, Bakugou doesn’t move. Remembering yesterday, Kirishima waits it out until Bakugou steels himself and leans the rest of the way toward Kirishima’s mouth. He goes so slowly Kirishima doesn’t realize he’s moving at first, eyes screwed shut and brows furrowed in concentration. When their mouths do touch, it’s only the softest and most fleeting brush.
Bakugou pulls back, his face so violently red that Kirishima almost asks if he’s doing alright.
“Nice!” he says instead, and moves his hands up Bakugou’s forearms to his shoulders in an attempt to relax him. That just seems to make the situation worse, but Bakugou leans in for another kiss before Kirishima can suggest a break.
He’s still just as clumsy, but now he seems at least a bit more open to Kirishima’s signals. If Kirishima squeezes his shoulders hard enough he remembers to ease up, and he doesn’t even protest when Kirishima places one hand on his cheek, guiding him into a proper rhythm. He holds his arms stiffly by his sides and seems to get sweatier with every minute, but apart from that Kirishima would almost go so far as to call this a halfway decent kiss.
“You’re a quick learner,” he says once they break apart.
“Obviously,” says Bakugou. Kirishima thinks he might sound kind of pleased.
“Couple notes,” he says, and leans in once again.
The two of them keep at it for way longer than Kirishima had assumed Bakugou’s attention would hold. He takes it seriously, too, absorbing every criticism Kirishima throws at him with grim determination until he can execute a closed-mouth kiss that doesn’t feel like a melee attack.
Kirishima figures they’ll just sort of progress naturally from one kind of kiss to the next, but the first time he tries to open his mouth, Bakugou jerks away with a start.
“Sorry!” Kirishima says, holding up his hands. “We can stop if you’re not ready, or just go back to— “
“Who do you think I am?” Bakugou growls, as if that clarifies anything. “I wasn’t— just warn me next time, asshole!”
“Right, my bad,” says Kirishima. “Is it okay if I try again?”
“Whatever,” says Bakugou, but he kisses Kirishima with enough enthusiasm to make up for the lukewarm response.
Kirishima parts his lips just slightly against Bakugou’s insistent mouth, and after a second of hesitation, Bakugou copies him. Their mouths slide together, hotter and wetter than before, and Kirishima’s heart skips a beat in his chest.
It’s skipped a lot of beats, in fact. Enough of them that Kirishima feels like he’s become compromised as a teacher. Advice and guidance come a lot slower to him when he’s preoccupied by the way Bakugou’s open mouth fits against his own, with more urgency underneath his practiced restraint every time they break apart and come back together. Eventually, Bakugo even moves his arms, one hand coming up to grip Kirishima’s forearm. Heat seems to roll off of him in waves.
Fired up by this sign of progress, Kirishima doesn’t notice one of his teeth catching on Bakugou’s bottom lip until Bakugou makes a muffled noise of surprise. He pulls back, startled, and his tooth drags sharply against vulnerable skin. Bakugou shivers hard, fingers digging into Kirishima’s arm.
“Fuck,” he says, so quiet that Kirishima barely hears him.
“My bad again,” Kirishima says sheepishly. He leans forward to inspect the damage, which consists of a small, sore-looking spot on the inside of Bakugou’s lip. “There’s no blood, at least. Did I ruin the mood?”
Bakugou opens his mouth, probably to curse out Kirishima and his entire family, but the sound of footsteps in the hall cuts him off.
They both fall silent, and Bakugo steps backward, putting some distance between them. Kirishima isn’t sure how that will help them explain why they’ve been loitering together in a deserted classroom for the past half hour, but he doesn’t protest.
The footsteps pass by safely, but Kirishima thinks that they’ve probably covered enough ground for today. He wishes he could have ended on a better note than almost making Bakugou bleed, but he’ll just have to prepare better next time.
“I think that went well!” he says, clapping his hands together once. “Meet me back here tomorrow and I’ll show you how to kiss with tongue.”
He throws in a wink for effect, and Bakugou appears to choke on his own saliva.
“I’ll take that as a yes!” Kirishima says, and quickly heads out of the room before Bakugou can say anything back.
— — —
By the next day, Kirishima is too excited to play it cool anymore. Instead, he fidgets in his seat and sneaks glances at Bakugou until Kaminari asks him what he’s doing, at which point he tries a little harder to reign it in.
Throughout most of their classes, Bakugou just gazes impassively up toward the front of the room, but halfway through math Kirishima feels a pair of eyes on him. Bakugou whips back around to face front immediately when Kirishima looks over, but the back of his neck is suspiciously red.
After class ends, he follows Kirishima outside again, this time from a shorter distance.
“Okay,” says Kirishima as they step over the threshold into the classroom, but Bakugou crowds into his space before they even make it all the way inside.
“Just shut up,” he says. It’s a pretty standard thing for Bakugou to say, but something about the way he says it makes Kirishima stop and take notice. He doesn’t sound sharp or angry, just sort of impatient.
The idea that Bakugou’s been impatient for this too makes Kirishima’s stomach do a flip, but he tries his best to focus anyway. He wants to stay on task today, and so he steps out of Bakugou’s reach.
“Don’t get excited just because you did well last time,” he says, trying to sound stern even though their proximity speeds up his heartbeat by a lot. “I said I’d teach you, didn’t I?”
Bakugou mumbles something indistinct that’s almost certainly an insult, but he doesn’t try to get any closer. Kirishima shuts the classroom door behind them and drops his school bag on the ground, motioning for Bakugou to do the same.
Once he does, Kirishima dares to grab one of his hands. Bakugou snatches it back immediately, which is disappointing, at least until he wipes his palm dry on his uniform pants and sticks it out for Kirishima to take again.
“Now you can kiss me,” Kirishima says. After all,he’s only human.
Bakugou’s lips part right away, and he holds Kirishima’s hand tight in his like he’s afraid Kirishima is about to make a run for it. When Kirishima sneaks his eyes open for a glance at Bakugou’s face, his brows are furrowed into an expression of intense concentration.
Kirishima already feels dangerously floaty, so he forces himself to concentrate on the lesson plan he’d come up with last night.
“I’m gonna put my tongue in your mouth now,” he says as he pulls back, because Bakugou seems to appreciate advance warning on these things. “Okay?”
Bakugou lets out a sort of wheeze. The longer Kirishima waits for a verbal response, the redder his face gets.
“Fucking— just do it already,” he spits out.
Kirishima knows his face is probably as flushed as Bakugou’s, but he shuts his eyes and ducks forward anyway. There’s no way he can lose his nerve now, so he presses his mouth very softly against Bakugou’s and lets his tongue slide even more softly against the bitten-up skin of Bakugou’s lower lip.
Bakugou tenses, but at the same time he opens his mouth up more, enough for Kirishima to slip his tongue inside. Kirishima limits himself to the barest flash of contact before he pulls back just enough to talk.
“You just do it a little bit at a time,” he says, surprised when his voice comes out hoarse. “Wanna try?”
Kirishima expects Bakugou to have some rude comment ready. Instead he just chews his lip, still wet from Kirishima’s spit, and nods.
“Okay,” Kirishima breathes, and he means to wait for Bakugou to kiss him first but he can’t really stop himself from leaning forward at the same time that Bakugou does, quick enough that they almost miss each other’s mouths.
When Bakugou’s tongue brushes his, the sensation is way better than any of the few times Kirishima’s done this before. Bakugou gets carried away with it, as expected, but not even all that extra spit is enough to dampen the mood.
Still, it’s Kirishima’s responsibility to set a good example. He pulls back, squeezing Bakugou’s hand so that he’ll know to ease up too. The next time their tongues slide together, the sweetness of it hits Kirishima like a punch to the gut.
He pulls back after that, just to catch his breath, but he can’t bring himself to get more than an inch or two away.
“Bakugou, that was really— you’re doing really good,” he says, embarrassed at how out of breath he is.
Instead of commenting on his lack of professionalism, Bakugou makes a noise that Kirishima has no idea how to interpret and surges forward for another kiss. There are still a few more points Kirishima wants to drive home, though, and so he forces himself to step backward.
“We still haven’t talked about where to put your hands that much,” he says, ignoring Bakugou’s scowl. Aside from Kirishima’s own hand, which is currently crushed into Bakugou’s grip, their mouths are their only other point of contact.
“You can put them here,” Kirishima says. He takes Bakugou’s other hand and guides them both downward until Bakugou’s arms are wrapped around his waist. He likes the pressure and warmth of Bakugou’s palms, just hot enough to feel unnatural even through the fabric of his blazer.
“Then whoever else will put theirs here,” he continues, and wraps his arms around Bakugou’s neck. It feels strange to be in this position with Bakugou, almost more so than the kissing. For a second, Kirishima lets himself imagine that he’s the whoever else, and it makes his heart pound harder than ever.
Bakugou hasn’t said anything the whole time Kirishima’s been guiding his hands, but he has started sweating again.
“Also,” Kirishima says as he moves to cup Bakugou’s jaw with one hand.
Bakugou stares into Kirishima’s eyes with an expression that Kirishima’s never seen before. He doesn’t have the first idea what it means, but somehow it makes him flustered.
“So basically you have a lot of options,” he says loudly, trying to simultaneously get his heartbeat under control and draw attention away from the flush he can feel spreading across his face.
Bakugou doesn’t respond to any of these helpful tips, but he does pull Kirishima in even closer. His cheek feels warm where Kirishima’s palm is pressed up to it.
Suddenly, they’re kissing a lot harder than before. Kirishima is concerned to find himself sticking his entire tongue in Bakugou’s mouth, even though he’d discouraged that kind of behavior only a few minutes ago.
Kirishima almost pulls away to apologize before he realizes that Bakugou doesn’t seem to mind at all, and also that being a good teacher has suddenly fallen a lot lower on his list of priorities than kissing Bakugou as much as possible while he still can. Once he arrives at this conclusion, it’s very easy to get lost in the feeling of Bakugou’s mouth on his.
For a few long moments, that’s just what he does, but he’s startled out of his reverie the first time Bakugou bites his bottom lip. He doesn’t acknowledge it afterwards, but his teeth are also considerably less dangerous than Kirishima’s are, so Kirishima lets it go.
The second time, Bakugou’s teeth sink in way too hard to be unintentional, and Kirishima has to fight down a noise of genuine pain. He doesn’t want to activate his quirk in the middle of making out, but he also doesn’t want Bakugou to chew a hole through his lip, so he settles for pulling it free of Bakugou’s teeth and guiding them back into a less aggressive rhythm.
Maybe he’d just gotten the wrong idea about biting from Kirishima’s mistake yesterday. If that’s the case, Kirishima feels obligated to provide him with some better examples. Once he’s pretty sure Bakugou isn’t about to start chewing on him again, he lets his teeth drag over Bakugou’s bottom lip, hopefully with enough pressure to feel good but not enough to hurt.
Bakugou inhales so quickly it almost sounds pained, and then his arms tighten around Kirishima’s middle as he lets out out the smallest involuntary noise on his exhale, and Kirishima thinks he may have done something right after all.
“Wow,” he says. This is definitely the most intense response he’s gotten out of Bakugou yet. “You’re into that?”
Bakugou just glares. Kirishima can’t quite tell whether he’s just being his usual recalcitrant self or if he’s genuinely uncomfortable, which seems like a sign that he should back off.
“Sorry,” he says, and attempts to edge backwards, although Bakugou’s tight hold on him makes it difficult. “I didn’t mean to push you or anything, we can just— “
Bakugou actually slaps his palm over Kirishima’s mouth at that, effectively cutting off any further attempts at speech.
“You aren’t pushing me,” he says, eyes blazing and face bright red. “I fucking like it, okay? Are you happy now?”
“Yes,” Kirishima says, voice muffled against Bakugou’s palm. He doesn’t see much of a point in lying. Bakugou removes his hand after that, and Kirishima grins. It feels kind of like an honor to be entrusted with this information, even though he’d found it out by accident. “Hey, can I try something?”
“Do what you want,” says Bakugou, but he still tenses up when Kirishima pulls him closer.
Kirishima kisses the corner of his mouth first, then his chin, then the line of his jaw, until his mouth is on the side of Bakugou’s neck and Bakugou seems at least slightly more relaxed.
“Can I bite you here?” he asks, and Bakugou’s shoulders shoot up to his ears all over again.
After a few seconds, he seems to calm down. His hands move back to Kirishima’s waist, and he nods.
No matter how often Kaminari makes fun of them, Kirishima knows that his teeth are no joke, so he makes sure to progress carefully from there. He starts with more kisses, pressing a soft line of them down the side of Bakugou’s neck until he gets to a spot that seems sensitive, which he scrapes his teeth over as gently as he can. He keeps that up for a while, dragging his teeth over the same spot with varying degrees of pressure until Bakugou bites out a noise of frustration and tugs at Kirishima’s hair.
Kirishima sucks hard at the spot and then bites him for real, sinking his teeth into the skin just hard enough that Bakugou gasps. He lets go after a few seconds, because it would be really bad to get too excited and tear a hunk out of Bakugou’s neck.
Bakugou himself seems unconcerned by this possibility; he keeps pushing Kirishima’s mouth down harder against his skin, more urgent with every second. Kirishima finds that he wants to comply, wants to prove he’s up for the challenge. It’s a stupid instinct in this kind of situation, but Bakugou tends to bring that out in him.
He lets himself apply more pressure, enough that he’s sure it must be on the wrong side of uncomfortable. Bakugou makes a noise that’s mostly breath, and Kirishima bites another spot, and then another.
“You,” Bakugou starts, voice just on the edge of a bitten-off moan as he tilts his head to the side to give Kirishima more access.
Kirishima drags his tongue over a raw-looking spot in an attempt to soothe the pain, but Bakugou just winds his fingers tighter into Kirishima’s hair. He seems like he wants to egg Kirishima on, even though they’re already pushing it, and Kirishima knows he can’t let himself get caught up in that momentum.
When he disentangles himself, all he sees are red spots and teeth marks marching their way up Bakugou’s neck. Without thinking too hard about what he’s doing, Kirishima lifts his hand up to touch a bruise right under Bakugou’s jaw, fresh and livid and still shiny with spit.
Kirishima brushes his thumb over it so gently that he hardly makes contact, but Bakugou jerks as if he’d dug in a fingernail. After that, he steps back quickly, hurrying to grab his bag off the floor and sling it over his shoulder.
“I’m going,” he says, and then he’s out the door without a second look backward.
For a second Kirishima just stands there, bewildered, but his confusion quickly turns to guilt when he remembers the state of Bakugou’s neck and the way that Bakugou had started away from his touch.
He locks the classroom up slowly, giving Bakugou some time to get ahead before he leaves himself.
— — —
Bakugou has his shirt buttoned up all the way to the top at school the next day, and his collar flipped up for good measure. Sero tries to ask him if he’s going for a Best Jeanist look, and the death threats he gets in return are even more vehement than usual.
Kirishima glances at Bakugou all throughout their lectures again today, but he feels guiltier and guiltier every time. When Bakugou’s shirt collar slips to reveal an obvious mark on the side of his throat, the mixture of fascination and shame Kirishima experiences is enough that he has to lay his head down on his desk for a few minutes in despair.
Bakugou keeps his eyes resolutely forward throughout the day, which means that he doesn’t catch Kirishima staring, but also that Kirishima can’t get a read on what his face looks like. The longer class stretches on for, the more agitated Kirishima becomes. What if Bakugou regrets letting Kirishima do that to him? What if he hadn’t even liked it in the first place, and Kirishima had just picked up the signals wrong?
By the time class gets let out for lunch, Kirishima is more or less resigned to a life of atonement, and Kaminari has noticed that something’s up.
“You look stressed,” he says, falling in step beside Kirishima on the way to the cafeteria.
“Yeah, well,” says Kirishima. Just as he’s about to explain the whole saga, Kaminari’s eyes suddenly get wide.
The next thing Kirishima knows, he’s being grabbed by the back of his blazer and hauled outside the flow of student traffic. Kaminari tries to yank him back, but he gets swallowed up by the crowd before he can make contact. For his part, Kirishima lets himself be dragged. He’s fairly certain he can guess who the culprit is.
He’s proven right when Bakugou lets him go, far enough away from where everyone is headed to lunch that they won’t be overheard. For a few moments, the two of them just look at each other.
It would probably be polite to let Bakugou go ahead and say what he’d dragged Kirishima over here to say in the first place, but Kirishima realizes that now might be his only chance to apologize before Bakugou murders him in cold blood.
“Look,” he says in a rush. “I know this kind of thing pisses you off for some reason, but I’m sorry about yesterday. I got way too carried away, and now you’re—” Kirishima gestures at Bakugou’s neck. At some point he’d flipped his collar back down, so all of the marks stand out plainly against his skin.
“God, shut up,” says Bakugou. “As if I’d let you get carried away.”
Kirishima isn’t sure what kind of reaction he’d expected. Yelling, maybe, or explosions. Certainly not the Bakugou standing in front of him, fairly calm and not actively trying to rip Kirishima’s head off.
“Okay,” he says. “So why did you grab me?”
At this, Bakugou starts to look more like his usual self. He frowns harder and shoves his hands into his pockets, eyes darting off to the side.
“I might need some more practice,” he says, voice not much louder than a mumble.
Once Kirishima grasps the implications of this, he can’t quite stop a grin from spreading across his face.
“Are you sure?” he asks, stepping closer. “It might take a while before you can beat me, you know.”
“Like hell,” says Bakugou. This time, when he leans forward, Kirishima meets him halfway.