Dragon's Heart, Hero's Will

Chapter 40: Confessions in the Heat of Jealousy

The city lights blur as the Bakusquad strolls through the streets, their laughter blending with the buzz of the night. The café they’ve chosen is warm and inviting, but Kirishima can barely focus on the conversation. His eyes keep drifting to Bakugou, sharp and radiant under the neon lights, and every time Bakugou smirks or throws a cutting retort, something stirs deep in Kirishima’s chest—something wild, primal.

His dragon quirk thrums restlessly, urging him closer. It’s been like this for weeks, an unyielding pull toward Bakugou that Kirishima doesn’t quite understand, but he feels it every time they’re near. His senses sharpen, his muscles tense—his entire being is tuned into Bakugou’s presence. The heat in his chest is becoming unbearable.

“Oi, shitty hair, you’re spacing out again,” Bakugou snaps, eyes narrowing in Kirishima’s direction.

Kirishima forces a grin, though his pulse quickens. “Yeah, sorry! I’m here.” But the truth is, he’s barely present. His mind is busy, consumed by thoughts of Bakugou—of how he looks in that hero costume, the way his muscles tense when he moves, the smirk that always sets something on fire inside Kirishima.

The group chatters on, but the mood shifts when a stranger saunters up to their table. Tall, confident, and far too interested in Bakugou for Kirishima’s liking. The guy leans in, eyes focused solely on Bakugou.

“Hey,” the stranger says, voice low and smooth. “Mind if I join you? You caught my eye from across the room.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrow dangerously, but he doesn’t immediately dismiss him. “Who the hell are you?”

The stranger grins. “Name’s Hiro. And you?”

Kirishima’s grip tightens on his glass, knuckles turning white. His dragon quirk roars to life, the possessiveness hitting him hard. A dangerous growl rumbles in his chest as images flash through his mind—of ripping Hiro apart, sharp claws tearing through flesh. His teeth itch to sharpen, his claws press against his skin, desperate to come out.

But Bakugou doesn’t back off. Instead, the blond leans back, a sly smirk playing on his lips. “You think you can handle me?”

Kirishima’s heart stutters. What the hell? Is Bakugou... flirting? Jealousy floods his veins, hot and suffocating. His dragon is thrashing inside him, demanding he do something—anything—to stake his claim.

Hiro doesn’t hesitate, leaning even closer to Bakugou. “Oh, I know I can. Why don’t we get out of here? I can think of a few things we could—”

That’s it.

“Back. The. Hell. Off.” Kirishima’s voice is low, rough, almost guttural, as he rises to his feet. His chair screeches against the floor, but the sound barely registers. His entire focus is on Hiro, and the fire in his chest is threatening to spill over. His eyes are glowing now, the edges of his vision tinged red as his dragon fights for control.

The café falls silent, all eyes turning toward the commotion. Hiro backs up, eyes wide as he takes in Kirishima’s hulking form, the smoke curling from his lips, the sharpness of his teeth. “I-I didn’t mean—”

“I don’t care what you meant.” Kirishima’s growl deepens, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You touch him again, and I swear to God I’ll—”

“Eijirou,” Bakugou’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp and commanding. Kirishima’s chest tightens at the sound of his name, the possessiveness mixing with something else—something more primal. Bakugou is watching him now, his crimson eyes alight with something... different.

Kirishima grabs Bakugou by the wrist, his claws digging into the soft skin. He pulls him away from the table, the urge to mark his territory overwhelming. “We’re leaving,” Kirishima growls, his voice barely human now.

“Oi! What the hell do you think you’re—” Bakugou starts to protest, yanking his wrist, but then he sees Kirishima’s face. The intensity in his eyes, the way his chest is heaving with barely contained fury... and something else. Something that sends a rush of heat through Bakugou’s body. Shit. I’m so fucking in love with this idiot.

Kirishima doesn’t stop. His grip tightens as he drags Bakugou through the streets, his mind barely able to focus on anything other than getting Bakugou alone. His claws are sharp, probably leaving bruises, but Bakugou doesn’t complain.

They reach the dorms, and Kirishima all but throws the door open, slamming it shut behind them. The lock clicks into place, and before Bakugou can say a word, he’s shoved up against the door, Kirishima’s body pressing into his. The heat between them is almost suffocating.

Kirishima’s breath is ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to regain control. His claws dig into Bakugou’s shoulders now, but Bakugou doesn’t flinch. Instead, he meets Kirishima’s glowing eyes, feeling the wild energy pulsing off him.

“You’re mine,” Kirishima growls, his voice a rough, deep rumble that sends a shiver down Bakugou’s spine. “No one else gets to touch you.”

Bakugou’s breath hitches, but he doesn’t look away. Instead, he grabs Kirishima by the front of his shirt, yanking him closer. “Yeah? Then fucking prove it.”

Their lips crash together with a force that leaves them both breathless. It’s wild, heated, and everything they’ve been holding back for so long finally breaks free.