Work Text:
Bakugou having this good a birthday makes Kirishima feel like she’s on top of the world.
For one thing, a few hours ago, they literally were. It was a long climb to the peak of the mountain they’d chosen for Bakugou’s yearly birthday hike, but that just meant she got the craziest rush at the top. Getting to share that is special. She really has to thank Bakugou for putting her on to climbing. And for insisting on planning this trip herself, because this hotel she chose? Pretty fucking baller.
Kirishima’s not an expensive date. She’s never been to the kind of ryokan where they guide you to your room and check you in over freshly-brewed tea. But apparently Bakugou wanted to spend this birthday in style, and you won’t hear her complaining about an inn with three separate bathing areas and a private tub on their balcony.
Plus, the shower is huge. Lots of things they could do in there - in fact, probably better to do them before the climber’s high wears off and she starts feeling her legs.
Bakugou’s rifling through the wardrobe in the corner of the room, and doesn’t flinch when Kirishima comes up behind her, laying her chin on her shoulder. “Ready to go in?”
“You go ahead,” she says.
“Come on, don’t you wanna make the most of the space?” Kirishima wraps an arm around Bakugou’s waist, which gets brushed off almost immediately.
“I would, but you’re gonna need time to get ready for dinner.”
From the stack of different-colored yukata in the wardrobe, Bakugou places one in her hands: pale yellow and crawling with light pink flowers. The obi is a deep wine red; the yukata Bakugou’s selected for herself, a dusty green with pine branches. Nowhere near as feminine as the one she’s handed Kirishima. And that could only mean-
“Wait, we’re doing that?”
“Yep.”
“Tonight?”
Bakugou brushes her knuckles against her cheek. “Yeah. Gonna treat you real nice.”
The touch does make Kirishima’s breath hitch, but it doesn’t chase the frown off her face. Honestly, it hadn’t crossed her mind that Bakugou’d ask for them to do that kind of play on this trip. She didn’t bring any makeup, or anything. She did bring the strap. She’s pretty sure it’s deep enough in her backpack that Bakugou hasn’t noticed.
Apparently, they had very different ideas of where tonight would go.
“Can we wait til next time?” Fuck, after the hike they had, she doesn’t feel like getting ready. She wants to take a hot shower and spoil Bakugou in her pajamas.
“How often do we stay at a fancy inn?”
She’s got a point there. And it is her birthday. “But I don’t even have any makeup.”
“So what, we’ll go straight to the baths after.”
“I just don’t know if I’m really feeling-”
“Either we do this, or we don’t have sex tonight.”
Kirishima’s face falls. “Bakugou.”
“It’s my birthday.”
She went there. Kirishima holds Bakugou’s stare - unwavering. “Well, yeah, but…” she says warily, because it would just about kill her to let one of Bakugou’s birthdays go by without delivering anything in the sex department.
Five seconds, and Bakugou doesn’t budge. Six. Ten seconds, and Kirishima folds. “I’ll see you after I shower, then.”
Bakugou grins at her, satisfied, then crosses the room. She reaches into her backpack, and pulls out a clear pouch. A hair roller, an eyelash curler, and a razor. “Since you didn’t bring anything.”
Kirishima lets out a laugh. “You are a fucking force to be reckoned with.”
“Watch that mouth, sweetheart.”
Kirishima rinses and repeats her shampoo when she realizes she’s been scrubbing it into her head like a fry cook scrubbing a grease stain. It’s fine. This is good. It’s Bakugou’s birthday and what she wants, she gets. This sorta butch-femme princess treatment thing they do is a thing at this point, even if so far, they’ve only done it when Kirishima’s asked to. It’s not like Kirishima had been psyching herself up to give her girlfriend the best railing of her life, on her birthday.
Honestly. Like she’s supposed to trouble herself and get all pretty every time Bakugou wants her to just because the thought of it is already making her pussy throb. God dammit. Of course she wouldn’t say no.
Bakugou steps out of the shower while she’s still drying her hair. Of course she’s ready in about thirty seconds. She didn’t have to maneuver a razor between her thighs. “I’m going down. I’ll text you the room number.”
“Need me to kiss your ass before you go?”
Hand on the doorknob, Bakugou’s face falters. “Color?”
Kirishima maintains eye contact with her in the mirror for two seconds, three. “Green. I’ll see you down there.”
And before she knows it, that smug grin is back. “See ya, sweetheart.”
The name stirs around Kirishima’s already-conflicted thoughts even more. God, that girl’ll be the death of her. Yukata means hair up, right? What’s the lowest effort she can get away with?
She clips her bangs up into the curler, and combs the rest back into a ponytail. Hastily, she braids it. She’s gotten good at that since Tooru taught her. Kirishima examines herself in the mirror - cinches her obi tighter, smooths out her sleeves. Bakugou was right that a ryokan dinner doesn’t call for a full face, but she doesn’t feel like this is enough. Still, the yukata is cute. And Bakugou picked it out for her. Chose one she wanted to see her in, because she thought she’d look pretty…
Here goes nothing. Down in the dining area, Kirishima explains herself to an attendant, who guides her to a door. It slides open to reveal a small private room, just big enough to hold the low wooden table where Bakugou sits.
The attendant excuses himself as Kirishima steps inside. Bakugou doesn’t wait until he’s out of earshot to say, “Hey, beautiful.”
Before Kirishima sits down, she strikes a pose. “Oh, yeah? Happy with this?”
“Do it again. In character.”
Kirishima’s spine shoots straight. Okay. Jesus.
Thank god there’s no one in the hallway to see her step out and in again. “Hi. Sorry I kept you waiting,” she tries this time. There’s no leg compartment under the table, so she sinks right down into seiza position.
“C’mere.”
Or not. Kirishima walks around the table to Bakugou’s side. Bakugou guides her down with a hand on her arm, then a hand on her cheek, then a kiss on her lips.
She can’t help but smile. “Hey. Happy birthday.”
Bakugou doesn’t respond, except for leaning in to kiss her again. Her hand trails down into the fold of Kirishima’s yukata; her fingers quickly slide into her underwear and down her freshly-smooth skin. Okay, fine. If Bakugou was gonna cut straight to the good part, maybe Kirishima was wrong to make such a scene. Her eyes start to close, but then she hears a rustling - Bakugou’s other hand, grabbing something from the folds of her obi. Suddenly, there’s something more in Kirishima’s panties than just fingers.
“What are you doing,” Kirishima asks lowly. It’s a little hard to think straight when there’s a cool piece of plastic against her vulva.
“Act like a brat, get punished like a brat, baby.” With a click of the remote in Bakugou’s other hand, the vibrator starts buzzing steadily. “If you’re good til the end of dinner, we’ll call it even.”
God dammit. “You’re so fucking mean to me sometimes.”
Bakugou presses up on the remote. “What’s that?”
Kirishima glares at her, then takes a deep breath and stands up. So this is why Bakugou was so insistent. Hell, she’d bet she planned on putting this thing against her pussy whether she was ‘bad’ earlier or not.
Come on, sink into it, Kirishima tells herself. This won’t be fun if she decides right out the gate that it isn’t. The vibrator shifts slightly as Kirishima lowers herself to sitting; with her thighs resting right on her calves, the pressure is more intense. Ooh. Please let her last through dinner.
She’s trying to readjust when the door slides back open. “Something to drink?”, a waiter asks.
It’s like he’s speaking right into her ear. A flush runs up her neck. “Oh. Yeah. Thanks. Do you have any plum wine?”
“We have one sourced from Wakayama that’s a bit drier, and a sweeter variety produced locally.”
“The loc-” Just then, the vibration kicks up a notch. She coughs to cover up the noise, and the way it makes her jump. “The local one. Thank you.”
“Very well. And for you?”
Bakugou’s never looked at a waiter with such a shine in her eyes before. “The same.”
“I’ll bring those over in just a moment.”
The second the door’s shut, Kirishima slouches in embarrassment and shoots Bakugou a pout. “Mean. Sadist.”
“Careful not to move too much. If you end up having to touch yourself, don’t expect any help from me later.”
Aaaaaaah. Aaaaaaagh!!!
Bakugou smirks as she reaches across the table to lift Kirishima’s chin. “Any time you want out, just say the word.” Kirishima knows she means it, but it’s impossible to ignore that tone. Smug. Gleeful. She knows Kirishima can’t help but fall back into it.
To Bakugou’s credit, she doesn’t keep the vibrator on the whole time. At least not on high. Their conversation picks up slowly but surely; once the appetizers come, Kirishima manages to mostly forget about the ticking time bomb in her underwear and enjoy the usual pros of Bakugou spoiling her. This place’s price tag showed in the room, but it really shows in the food. The appetizers are arranged in tiny, intricate plates, one by one, across a halved cut of bamboo. Cold, pillowy house-made tofu in a pool of dashi. The sweetest simmered kanpyou gourd, rolled up in delicately flavored rice. Minced tuna in the shape of a flower. Asparagus stewed with beef and sesame in a teriyaki sauce.
“This looks amazing,” Kirishima says as she readies her chopsticks.
“I thought you’d like that one.” She looks over the table - aha. Bakugou ate in reverse order. She went left to right, and Kirishima went right to left.
“Which one did you like?”
“The tuna. The asparagus was good, though. You’d like it best.”
“I think you’ll like the tofu better than the tuna. Being in your tofu era,” Kirishima muses. This past winter, Bakugou went pretty tofu-heavy in all their nabe. Something about plant-based protein and the environment. Kirishima suspects it also had something to do with how excited she’d get when one had beef.
Kirishima surveys the food left in front of her, feeling just a little bit greedy, as is her right on nights like these. The asparagus, a shell full of crab meat and ikura, and some really gorgeous pickled mackerel. She’ll start with that, then work her way back to the one Bakugou said she’d like. She registers that the vibrator has turned up again, but with concentration, she can get the food to her mouth without spilling and keep her head straight enough to actually taste it. Each one is incredible. She honestly feels lost in the flavor.
Last up is the beef and asparagus, and Bakugou just lets her bring it to her tongue before switching the toy all the way up to high. It pulses in short, intense bursts like bzzt bzzt bzzt, so suddenly that she drops half the food back into the dish.
“Ah-” She covers her mouth. “Bakugou, hey!”
“Focus, baby. What was I just saying.”
With that, Bakugou shuts the toy off. Hooh. Kirishima lets out a little sigh. But she doesn’t even get her, “Sorry, I don’t know,” all the way out before the vibration kicks up again, in high gear. “Ah!” she yelps, even though she can hear the shuffling of waiters’ sandals in the hall, just centimeters behind her.
“Keep your voice down. Did you hear what I was saying just now?”
Not that it matters if she can answer. They both know she didn’t hear. Her clit is getting so overstimulated, tears spring to her eyes. “I’m sorry I said no to you earlier. I won’t do it again.”
“You don’t need to apologize. You just need to be good now.” Bakugou turns the vibrator down, but not all the way off. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you out at the end of the meal. You can stick it out.” You’re tough, she might add some other time. Kirishima doesn’t feel tough now. She feels completely at Bakugou’s mercy.
Bakugou gestures to her food. “Are you not going to finish your asparagus?”
She has to, now. As Kirishima bears the vibration to lean forward and finishes the dish like Bakugou told her, she feels enveloped in something warm. Maybe the wine is getting to me, she thinks. But then Bakugou hums and says, “Good girl,” and she thinks ah, there it is. There’s the point where she really sinks under Bakugou’s thumb. Bakugou was right, too. It’s like they put this dish on the menu just for her.
What does her face look like right now, she wonders. Nothing like the Kirishima she usually sees.
It’s no surprise that the vibration starts picking up now that Kirishima’s started feeling helpless to it. Bakugou knows just when to bring it back to edge Kirishima up to the brink of tears. Course after course, she fluctuates the speed from high to low so she’s just wishing for more; just when Kirishima’s endured enough mid-range intensity that she feels a climax just a moment away, it cuts out completely. She’s sneaky about it, but she’s good at playing with the privacy they have, at playing with Kirishima so it’s hard to keep quiet when the waiter comes in.
So when the waiter sets a small stone grill on the table, she can imagine what’s coming next.
“The main dish. Hida beef grilled tableside.” With a click of the lighter, the flame is lit. The waiter picks up his tongs and sets down two pieces of the most beautifully marbled beef Kirishima’s ever seen - which is saying something after the sorts of restaurants Bakugou takes her to when they’re doing this thing they’re doing.
“Look at that,” Bakugou says. She shifts her gaze from the sizzling meat to Kirishima, her smile mischievous. And elated. It’s honestly remarkable how happy Kirishima can make her girlfriend by doing nothing, as long as she looks pretty doing it. “That looks great, doesn’t it?”
“It does.” It is a battle to maintain her smile with the toy so high up against her clit. Her skin is so tender now, even though she knows this isn’t one of the higher settings, the feeling is almost unbearable. Sitting forward a bit more gives her some relief, until Bakugou turns it up to high.
Kirishima only half contains a gasp. In her head, the toy is loud. Definitely louder than the sizzle of the meat on the grill. Louder than the laugh that drifts through the thin wall from the next room over. She shoots Bakugou a pleading look, and Bakugou retorts, “Look at the color on that. Beautiful.” - directing her focus back to the grill, which the waiter has his eyes trained on.
Kirishima’s heart rate quickens. Does he know? He must. The seconds until he blows out the flame and leaves can’t tick by fast enough.
“For you, ma’am,” he says, setting a piece of caramelly brown meat on Bakugou’s plate.
“Nope, the princess eats first.” Bakugou picks the meat back up and holds it out. “Say ah.”
Kirishima doesn’t need to be told; she’s already leaning forward, which just pushes the vibrator deeper in again. The beef is insanely delicious, of course it is, the juice and fat melting on her tongue and the body of it barely any more solid as she chews. It’s totally overwhelming, her mouth full of the flavor, her hands still by her sides, Bakugou studying her expression. The buzzing vibrator, bringing her back up to the edge. But she can’t cum, not until Bakugou says she can.
She hardly registers that she might have moaned.
“Please enjoy,” is all the waiter says as he ducks out again, with a pointed glance at Kirishima’s lap. And with him and the worries about him gone, there’s nothing but her wet and throbbing pussy and her desperately overstimulated clit and Bakugou, who could so easily take her out of her misery.
She’s not even sure how the next few minutes pass, except for that Bakugou is resting her hand on top of hers. The indulgence and the wine and the lack of control all combine into a haze around her head. She feels small and far away. The cotton of the yukata is cool and smooth on her thighs.
Some amount of time later, the waiter’s voice returns. Kirishima just manages to sit back up; she holds her breath as he sets down plate after plate. “The final course of the meal. Takenoko rice sourced from Niigata, a local miso soup, and a selection of pickled vegetables. Please enjoy.”
Finally. Food is the last thing on her mind once the door’s shut. A bit ahead of herself, she starts scooting over to the other side of the table-
“Don’t just leave your food sitting there.”
Pang. Her voice cracking, Kirishima whines, “I thought you were gonna take care of me.”
“Come on, baby. Just one bite.”
“I can’t.”
“Do you need me to feed it to you?”
“Yes, please,” she mumbles, and is surprised when Bakugou stands up and sits at her side. She’s all in her space, wrapping one arm around her to angle her towards her.
Bakugou takes a bite of rice in her chopsticks and offers it to her; Kirishima’s lips part obediently. It takes another level of focus to chew. The rice is slightly gooey with a savory, salty flavor, like a risotto. It slides down easily, so when Bakugou says, “You’re going to have some soup, too,” she nods right away.
Bakugou raises the cup to her lips. She focuses on taking steady breaths, so she won’t spill. The broth hits her tongue hot. And the second she swallows, for the first time in four courses or maybe five, the vibrator shuts off, all the way, and she just about falls forward onto the table.
She would, if Bakugou didn’t catch her face in her hand. “Very good job. See, I knew you could do it.” She picks up a cloth napkin to wipe Kirishima’s tears with. Kirishima wasn’t entirely aware she’d been crying. “He won’t check in on us again for at least a few minutes. Are you gonna be a good girl and cum fast for me?”
“I’ll stain the yukata.” For some reason, the thought brings more tears to her eyes.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Bakugou helps ease her back onto her elbows and pushes her thighs open. She spreads the napkin out underneath her. “I got you. You’ll be nice and clean.”
“Bakugou, please touch me.”
“Yeah, you deserve it. Been so good all night.” She has, cause she’s not a brat. She’s her good girl.
Bakugou doesn’t make her wait much longer; she pulls her underwear away and sets the vibrator, now slick and shiny, to the side. As she examines the state she’s brought her pussy to, Kirishima hears her laugh softly. “Do you even realize how wet you are, princess?” she asks. Kirishima shakes her head. “It’s unbelievable. That pretty little pink pussy, so wet just for me.” And even then, she doesn’t touch it straight away, instead leaning over Kirishima to kiss at the underside of her jaw. The back of Kirishima’s head hits the floor, her front warm under Bakugou’s body weight. One second, she hears herself whine desperately, and the next, Bakugou has smothered her mouth completely with hers.
“You know I love the sounds you make, but you have to be quiet,” she says, breath hot against her lips. Kirishima nods. It sounds nearly impossible but she can do it. She’s been controlling herself this whole time.
“‘S for you,” she says, trying to say it all. Her moans. Her soaked and clean-shaven pussy. Herself in this cute pastel yukata. All of her.
“I know, baby. Legs up.” Bakugou sits back, and Kirishima takes the cue to bend her knees, then spreads them as wide as she can in the narrow space between the door and the table.
“That’s right. There you go.” Bakugou dips one finger inside of her just enough to coat it in slick precum, and runs it in a circle over her opening. “You’re my good girl, right?” Oh, shit. She isn’t going to last long.
“Like being my pretty girl, right?”
Before she knows it, Bakugou’s slid that finger inside her, two knuckles deep, and only a moment later, she adds a second. Gently, she thrusts the two in, then out again, then spreads them apart like scissors. A fuck, right there echoes through her head so loud that at first, she doesn’t hear Bakugou say, “Speak to me, sweetheart.”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?” She’s just keeping her fingers there, until her thumb brushes almost innocuously over her clit.
Every breath Kirishima takes is shallow. “‘M your pretty girl.”
“See, all you had to do was admit it.” Quick and hard, she slides her fingers in and out of Kirishima’s vagina, and it’s so hot and blown out with pleasure that she can’t tell if Bakugou’s added a third. Her fingers reach deep into the soft walls on the inside of her cunt that have gone so ignored tonight. After all the teasing, the force and the certainty of Bakugou’s fingers is a sweet relief. Taking her all the way. The thumb of Bakugou’s other hand draws circles on Kirishima’s fist, which she can’t stop clenching and unclenching.
She can’t even see the ceiling. She’s so close, tears starting to spill from her eyes, when suddenly the vibrator is back and pulsing against her throbbing clitoris. It’s nothing like before, no feeling of holding back, no teetering on the edge. The vibration makes it all the way to her bones, Bakugou still inside her, two fingers curling up in her vagina, and fuck- oh-
What happens next, she doesn’t quite understand. She feels a cold shock, or maybe the sound of glass being swept off the table comes first, and somewhere along the line, the door clangs open.
“Is everything alright?”
It takes Kirishima a second to process what she’s seeing. Bakugou is on the other side of the table- when did she get back there? Her lap is covered in cubes of ice, a glass rolling on the floor beside her, and the yukata is cold and damp all the way down her legs. The bountiful sticky residue higher up, though - not so cold.
“Just a spill,” Bakugou says, curt.
“Oh my,” says the waiter. “I’ll return with some extra napkins.”
“Please.”
Kirishima lets them do the talking and focuses on figuring out what’s going on. There’s water spilled over her - that’s for sure. But in the position they were in, how would one of them have spilled a glass in this direction? They were far enough back, it doesn’t even feel like one of them could have knocked it over by accident.
As soon as he’s gone, Kirishima whispers, “Holy shit. Did I-”
“Uh-huh,” Bakugou cuts her off. “But he didn’t notice.”
“You sure?”
“Don’t worry about him. Worry about how you squirted and I didn’t get to taste it.”
Kirishima smiles. “Weirdo.”
“‘S serious business.”
She leans across the table to kiss her on the lips. “You’ll just have to do it again later, yeah?”
“Your turn,” Bakugou says. Then, she explains, “Tonight, fuck me however you want. Let’s see how you do, huh?”
The challenge gets Kirishima’s well-abused cunt itching to go again. She is going to do so fucking good.
“You didn’t have to shave it all, by the way. I thought you’d do your legs.”
“What?”
Shhk goes the door. “And for dessert.”
They’ve just gotten back from the baths when there’s a knock on their door. Bakugou’s gone off to look for a vending machine, so Kirishima answers it.
“Miss Bakugou?” It’s the waiter from earlier, a wicker basket in his arms.
Kirishima tries to hide the way being called that makes her heart jitter. “Yes?”
“I came to check on you after the commotion at dinner. How are you doing?”
“Oh, I’m okay. It was just a little water.”
He smiles back at her. “That’s good to hear. If you’d bring me the yukata you spilled on, I’ll have it laundered for you right away.”
The new yukata she’s changed into matches Bakugou’s. The old one is hanging over a chair in the sitting area, the undeterred dark spot on it definitely a little suspicious. “Right.”
She tries not to let it show on her face until he turns the corner, but in her head, the dots have connected into a diabolical realization. They wouldn’t need to wash a yukata that she had only spilled water on. Haha. Shit.
Bakugou returns to the room just then, two cartons of milk in hand. When she sees Kirishima laughing, she says, “What?”
“I don’t think we can stay here again.”