He doesn't regret it, but everyday, he wonders what would've happened if he hadn't done what he did. If he hadn't brought him to his home and slept with him.
He's been a little messed up ever since, he thinks. Positively or negatively he doesn't kn...
he fails to mention how fucked he already was at the beginning, when he first brought him to his bed. It's all for good reason, though, as no amount of words will ever be able to properly explain what eijiro kirishima does to katsuki bakugo's feeble mind.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 II THE THINGS I KEEP TO MYSELF
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Eijiro sits up before plopping right back down, breathing uneven as he places his hands right in the middle of Bakugo's chest for some type of leverage.
His face is flushed, a gorgeous shade of red, eyes squeezed shut and eyebrows furrowed, so much more concentrated than he's ever seen him in any other instance.
Katsuki reaches out, a shaky hand squeezing right into the flesh of Eijiro's naked waist, chest heaving and undeniably hot as he feels the sweat that drips down his temple.
Eijiro is sitting up on his knees again, wobbly before he plops right back down, crying out, leaning in even closer than he was before—
And the sight is fucking amazing, having someone that looks the way Eijiro does hovering above him, strong body and even stronger mind weak when it comes to the privacy of any sort of space, that he can be totally immobile and vulnerable with someone as conserved and quiet as Katsuki.
It's always intrigued him, their dynamic. That they can let go of it all, forget about everything and everyone when left alone with a room. How much his mind seems to go blank or totally incomprehensible with the slightest of Eijiro's touches.
"Katsuki." It's quiet as he says it, more like a whisper than anything else, "Katsuki."
It's addicting, the way he says his name. How oddly seductive it sounds when it leaves his mouth, no matter how innocent or lewd the intentions behind it seem.
His movements are stopping, suddenly, hands leaving from his chest and going somewhere else, "Open your eyes." Eijiro says, and his voice is raspy, high and so beautifully tired out, "I like them."
