bnha oneshots (vol 1)

030 ⋆ red hot (envy) 🍋🖤

ship: kiribaku*, tomokiri
*krbk is one-sided
⋆

This is absolute bullshit.

Everything about everything going on right now was complete and utter bullshit. Bakugo swallows down a groan when a muffled cry vibrates the wall his palm's pressed flat against. He fists himself with vigor, brows scrunched impossibly tight, teeth biting his bottom lip so hard he can feel them pierce through the supple flesh. A hot breath escapes him as his fist catches the tip of his cock the same time Kirishima let's out a whine from the other side of the wall. God, he sounds so fucking needy. Bakugo wishes he could punch through the wall and take in the sexy little faces he knows he's making.

He's watched him jerk off before; a handful of times in the showers late at night, or that time he got a full view of Kirishima going absolutely ham on his cock from a crack in the bathroom door the day Bakugo was supposed to be taking a nap in his room. He knows how red Kirishima flushes when he's riding a high; how it blushes across his cheeks and down towards his chest, eyes clouded over in a lust so unbridled, it could rival the looks in porn mags. He'd lick over his lips once, twice—slick them with spit before gnawing down with dangerously sharp teeth as he suppresses a low groan. There were so many times Bakugo wanted to barge in on him and press his lips against those slick ones, slot them together and continue where Kirishima left off; run a tight grip over that girthy cock and jerk him hard and fast until he came all over his lounge sweats.

That was the dream.

Was.

"You like that, don't you?" Tomo's partially muffled voice cuts through his fantasies like a sharp-edged sword, red hot from the fiery embers of betrayal unknown, unrequited. Bakugo swallows hard on the knot that forms in his throat as his eyes sting and his vision blurs. His flat palm tightens to a fist, nails digging into the fat of his palm as he forces that foreign yet sultry voice from his mind. Tomo speaks to Kirishima with a level of familiarity Bakugo had yet to achieve—first names, nicknames, pet names—"Ei-chan, baby, moan louder for me," Tomo cooes. "I want to hear you."

Bakugou only knows the bastard's name since it's all Kirishima's able to utter aside from his 'faster!'s and 'h-harder!'s. It makes him feel sick, hearing who he deemed to be the love of his life utter the name of someone other than him, and with so much endearment, too. Kirishima lets out a loud, guttural keen at Tomo's request that sends an icy chill racing down Bakugo's spine. His gut tightens at the noise, and he whines pathetically into a sweating palm whilst his cock twitches in his hand. He pauses his ministrations and gently presses his clammy forehead against the cool wall separating him from the scene. His cock aches as much as his heart, and he isn't sure if he wants to cry first or finish himself off and cry about it later. What kind of weirdo sicko freak gets off to listening to his best friend and undeniable, recently unattainable crush get fucked by some guy he was only hastily introduced to damn near forty-five minutes ago?

Bakugo wasn't sure about the guy when he first arrived at the dorms earlier this evening and introduced himself to everyone in the common room. The girls all cooed over how good-looking he was, how he could 'totally rival Todoroki!' as they begged Kirishima for details about any other possible hot friends (and Tomo's number, which really irked Bakugo off from the get go). The guys, unfortunately, liked him just as much as the girls did; they found him cool, suave even, and Kaminari came in with his whole shtick about him being 'popular with the ladies' (as confirmed via the aforementioned). For Bakugo, however, everything about the guy pissed him off from his stupid half-lidded gaze to the slight curve of his lips whenever he called Kirishima 'Ei-chan'.

Ei-chan. What a stupid fucking name. Ei-chan. Everything that comes out of that bastard's mouth is 'Ei-chan' this and 'Ei-chan' that; 'Ei-chan and I', 'me and Ei-chan', 'Ei-chan told me about you'. Bakugo's grown so tired of hearing that stupidly familiar name. It makes his stomach churn and bile rise to his fucking throat. Ei-chan. Ei-chan. "Ei-chan."

"T-Tomo!"

Bakugo catches himself before he could regurgitate his dinner. His eyes sting as tears gather in the corners, bile burning his throat on the way back down. It hurts. It hurts so fucking bad, yet he can't stop the ache in his cock at the raw need in Kirishima's ragged vocals, moans and mewls and whimpers that felt so close—so amplified in his head—yet weren't for him. His grip is firm when he continues stroking himself just as hot tears fall from his face. He hears Tomo sigh deeply from the other side and scrunches his face impossibly tighter, fighting with his overactive imagination to erase Tomo from his fantasy, to replace Tomo with himself. Those noises would be for him. He'd be the one with Kirishima writhing beneath him as the bed creaks and the frame rhythmically knocks against the wall in varying octaves. His name would spill from Kirishima's lips like honey too hot, and he'd spill his load into Kirishima as he grunts out his given name in return—

"Eijir—"

Eijirou cries out, "Tomo!"

"Ei-chan, fuck—"

Bakugo releases himself on the wall and bites down so hard on his lip that the taste of copper floods his mouth, head spinning. Bonelessly, he presses his back to the wall and slumps down, disregarding the mess he's made in lieu of staring into the empty, dark shadows of his room—of missed opportunities and things that could've been.

The bed creaks behind him, and he can almost feel the shift through the wall. Eijirou's voice seeps through soft, winded. "You... you think he heard us?"

'He'. Not Bakugo. Not Katsuki. Just a bystander.

"Probably not," comes Tomo's gravelly response. The bastard; his smug ass probably knew what was going on on this side of the wall, probably heard Bakugo slip up and groan Eijirou's name. That bastard... That bastard! He knew! He fucking planned this—

"Wanna go again?"