Sugar daddy!Kirishima/sugar baby!Bakugou AU!

☆ Bakugou is quirkless
☆ Age gap: Kiri is 32, Bakugou is 20
☆ SLOW BURN; if you know me, you know this is NO JOKE
☆ VERY NSFW later on

☆☆Please consider donating if you enjoy my work:☆☆

Saying he was excited about his new job was an overstatement. Really, he was more annoyed about having to work than anything—and having to work /here/, of all fucking places—but Katsuki didn’t have a goddamn choice.
He needed the money. He’d been fired from his last job for a “poor attitude”. Really, his former boss was the one with the poor fucking attitude, /not/ him.
Oh well.

What the fuck ever. Working for a pro hero was probably gonna be a goddamn hassle, but at least the pay would be good.
He’d gone in for the position interview the previous Thursday, and to his fucking surprise, he had gotten a call back the previous day (Sunday) asking if he was available to start Monday.

Fuck yes he was.
Katsuki was down to his last thousand yen, and he needed money /badly/. Especially if he wanted to keep eating.

So, Monday, he walked into Red Riot’s office.
The ground floor was pristine. Very clean-cut. Bright red modern leather couches sat around a steel coffee table, offset and joined by black leather chairs of the same style. The floor was crisp and black tile, neatly polished.
The reception office’s walls were painted with bright red, black, and charcoal gray, and a graffiti artist had been hired to write RIOT in big, bold letters across one wall. The word was heavily stylized and had metallic accents in silver and copper.
For a pro hero’s office, it wasn’t too shabby. But Katsuki wouldn’t be working reception. No, he bet his office—even he even got one—would be boring compared to this.
He strode up to the receptionist’s desk; it sort of reminded him of a bank, with numerous receptionists and security officers milling about and offering to help people. Behind them was a wall of flat-screen TVs.
The screens showed a number of things, such as event schedules and the massive, beaming pro hero himself.
Katsuki scoffed and narrowed his eyes. Kirishima Eijirou—better known as Sturdy Hero: Red Riot—was in his early thirties. He still looked pretty young, but his shoulders were broad, sun-kissed skin covered in freckles.
He was filled out and mature, his body sturdy and strong. Hell, he looked /good/. Katsuki wasn’t blind, after all.
He had brilliant red eyes and short red hair, cropped with an undercut. His hair was spiked, and he had two short horns in the front that poked out from his stupid mask thing.
The worst of it, though, was that his hero outfit had no shirt. The idiot’s full, round pecs were on display, and Katsuki’s gaze dipped to his left nipple, which was pierced.

He didn’t let his eyes linger long.

He was here to start his damn job, not ogle his way-too-old-for-him-and-probably-not-gay boss.
See, Katsuki was barely twenty. This was about to be his third in the professional sector job since graduating high school. Most people his age were aiming for college or trying to become pro heroes.

Well, Katsuki didn’t /want/ to go to college. He’d never wanted to.
Not that he was sure what, exactly, he wanted to do… but he knew college wasn’t for him.
Sure, his mom and dad both worked in fashion, and sure, they were pretty well off, but he wasn’t /exactly/ on the best terms with his parents right now. He’d moved out after they’d had a big argument about three months ago.
Since then, he hadn’t talked to them.

(Okay, so he wasn’t /really/ that mad at them, but his mom had pushed her damn luck about him going to school and getting a degree, and he just… wanted to live his own fucking life.)
He shoved aside the discomfort at their last fight and glared at the receptionist in front of him. She was helping someone else, and after the man she was helping left with a smile, she motioned Katsuki forward.
“Hello!” she chirped. “Welcome to RIOT, agency of and home to Sturdy Hero: Red Riot!”
/Wonder how much she gets paid to sound so fucking happy,/ he thought bitterly.

“What can I help you with?”

Dear god, that high-pitched, too-cheerful voice of hers was going to fucking kill him.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t be on this level that often.
“Bakugou Katsuki,” he grunted out. “’M Red Riot’s new personal assistant.”
She blinked her owlish brown eyes at him, then nodded. Her lips rounded into an O, and she swiveled to type into her computer. A few seconds later, she grinned and said, “Great! Takaiyo-kun will be down in just a few minutes to show you around! Please take a seat."
She asked, "Would you like any water or soda while you wait?”
“No,” he muttered, and he headed over to wait on one of the black leather chairs. At least it was comfortable.
Magazines, like /KO!/ and /Pro Hero Weekly/ were laid out on the coffee table. All of them were new issues, and Katsuki didn’t need to flip through them to know that Red Riot was ranked highly.
His face beamed up at Katsuki from a few of the covers, but more of them showed a familiar young man with green hair.

He rolled his eyes and slouched backward, folding his arms over his chest.
Since he didn’t have his own quirk, Katsuki didn’t really waste time following heroes and their ranks. He’d never had any need to. Before this job, he’d worked as an office assistant for a finance company, and before that, he’d worked in retail.
This was the first job where knowing his boss’s rank might actually /matter/, but Katsuki couldn’t bring himself to give a shit.
He was only going to work here until Red Riot got tired of his “attitude” and fired him, anyway. He’d have to find a new job after that, and a new one after that, and so on. It was a never-ending cycle for him, unfortunately.
Even if he tried to be nice, like really /tried/, he was still a dick.

So, really, learning anything more about Red Riot than that his hair was shitty and he had a shitty, annoying smile was beyond Katsuki’s projected pay grade.
Finally, after ten fucking goddamn minutes of waiting, a girl with short blonde hair, a big chest, and glasses appeared. Bitch had to be Takaiyo.

“Hi!” she said, extending her hand to him and smiling warmly.
He didn’t miss how the top few buttons of her white blouse were undone. Katsuki stood and glared at her hand, stuffing his own in the pockets of his slacks in a blatant “Don’t fucking touch me” move.

Even if he’d been into women, he sure as shit wouldn’t be into /this/ one.
“I’m Takaiyo Shiori!” she said, wiggling her fingers and waiting for him to take her hand.

“Bakugou,” he said, annoyed. Obviously, he wasn’t gonna fucking shake it. “The fuck took you so long?”
Takaiyo sighed, sounding a bit overdramatic, before dropping her hand back to her side. Aside from the white blouse, she was dressed in a knee-length gray skirt and a pair of knee-high white stockings. Her work shoes were nondescript brown loafers.
“I was working. Anyway, welcome to RIOT, Bakugou-kun!”

“’S just Bakugou.”

She beamed at him, but the expression seemed… off. Almost false.
Bakugou was pretty good at reading people, thanks to his parents’ jobs. He’d been around the superficial people at their work enough to know what a fake smile meant.

This bitch did /not/ like him.
She walked him to one of the sleek elevators near the back of the room, behind the reception desk. “I’m so excited to work with you!”

He grunted, shoulders folding forward in an attempt to silently say, “/I’m fucking not./”
Takaiyo smirked, and once the elevator doors shut, her smile dropped entirely. She pulled her phone out and began typing away at it. “You’re my replacement.” Her voice had changed, too. It wasn’t high-pitched anymore, more bland and annoyed.
He glowered at her. /Fucking knew it./
“I’ll give you the run-down today,” she continued. “My last day is Friday, and Red runs a tight schedule. You should be here by seven every morning. Quitting time is five, but it’s probably good if you can stay late the first few weeks. Good news is you’ll get OT.”
Blunt, but fine. He could take it.

“I’ll do my best to show you what you need to do. I don’t wanna hand this job off to just /anyone/, and I don’t like repeating myself, so pay attention. Got it?”
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

She smirked. “That’s the spirit.”

The ride in the elevator was fairly silent after that. They clicked past the second floor, the third, the fourth…
“So why the hell are you leaving, anyway?”

She put her phone away and raised an eyebrow. “Red Riot’s ranked eleventh, but I’ve been wanting to work for Intrepid /forever/, and now that I’ve finally landed a job at his office, I’m not passing up the opportunity.”
Fucking /Deku/.
Katsuki knew Intrepid. The asshole was his childhood friend—or had been, at one point. They’d both been quirkless—or Katsuki /thought/ they had. Deku had been keeping his quirk a goddamn secret, though. Their last year of junior high, he’d applied to UA and had been accepted.
Fucking dick had the opportunity to be what Katsuki had always wanted: a pro hero.

Katsuki, poor quirkless Katsuki, was left rotting in the dust. He’d hoped for years that his own quirk would manifest latently like it had for Deku.

But it never had.
And every year during the sports festival, Katsuki had watched as his /former/ friend had done better and better. He’d ranked first his third year, then as soon as he’d graduated, he’d been hired as a sidekick for Endeavor.
After that, Deku, the fucking /prodigy/ that he was, had struck out on his own. He’d risen through the ranks in record fucking time, and now, at age twenty, he was sitting at number five.
His rank was the only one Katsuki had paid any attention to, and it was more because it felt like everywhere he turned, he saw Deku’s fucking face and his rank. People were losing their goddamn /minds/ over him.
Fucking asshole.

He supposed it made sense that she’d want to work for him, though. Who wouldn’t? The jackass had to be making millions at this point. Every investor out there was looking for ways to get their brand on his toned ass.
She paused and tilted her head, scanning his face. “RIOT’s not a bad place to work,” she said at last. “It just isn’t the place for me. Red’s great, but he’s never going to be the number-one hero, you know?”

He glared. “Don’t care.”
As long as he had food on the table and a roof over his head, he couldn’t be bothered to give two shits about whether this place was a good or bad office to work in.

Takaiyo shrugged. “You should. Come on.”
He followed her out of the elevator and past a bull pen of cubicles. Offices rimmed the outside of the floor. Most of the doors were shut, and almost all of them looked empty.
“So, the basement is the training arena,” she said, ticking off the first finger on her hand. “It has a gym, combat rooms, and a bunch of other stuff. You’re welcome to use it as an employee. Red actually encourages it.”
“Keep callin’ him Red,” he grunted. “Why?”
“That’s what we all call him. I think he likes it?” She shrugged and ticked off the second finger. “Main floor is reception. The first floor is accounting and HR, second and third are for sidekicks and interns. Red has almost fifty sidekicks working for him, and he has fifteen +
hero partners.”
He nodded, not sure how useful any of this shit would actually be to him.

“Most of the pros work on the fourth floor.”

They’d gotten off at the sixth floor.
“Fifth floor is marketing and media relations,” she added, ticking another finger off. “They’re pretty great people, and you’ll be working with them and accounting and financing /a lot/.”
Another nod.

“And sixth floor is where the high-ranked pros and Red himself work!” She stopped as they reached the back of the sixth floor and gestured to a closed door with “RED RIOT” stamped into a metal plaque on the wood.
To the left of the door was a steel desk with two monitors, a wireless keyboard, and a high-tech mouse.

Takaiyo dragged a chair over from an empty cubicle. “This is my desk—or, rather, /your/ desk.”

She sat in her own chair and patted the spare she’d grabbed.
Katsuki frowned, but sank down beside her.
“He likes coffee from the place down the street,” she said as she logged in. “I’ll show you tomorrow morning. I stopped by on my way in this morning because it’s faster. Always order him a cherry mocha with extra whip and chocolate syrup.”
/Ew./ He wrinkled his nose at that. “Fuckin’ gross.”

She laughed. “Yeah, well. He has one hell of a sweet tooth, so be ready for all sorts of weird requests.”

Fine. Weird, he could do.
She navigated to a window with a schedule. “This is his calendar. You’ll need to be /very/ familiar with it. I recommend syncing it with your phone. The app I use is call ProMange. It’s pretty great. I’ll set you up with a password and everything if you install it.”
She motioned to the computer. “Every morning at seven thirty, I go over his daily with him. He can be pretty forgetful, so if you see that he’s not on a call when he /should/ be, make sure he gets on it ASAP.”

“Fine.” Great. So he’d be babysitting the fucker. F a n t a s t i c.
The clock read 7:15, so he’d probably see her go over the daily with Red Riot this morning.
“The rest of the day, you’ll be fielding calls from investors, other hero agencies, and media outlets and partners,” she explained. She reached across the desk and pulled over a large three-ringed binder. “Their numbers are all in here, and so are the names of their +
representatives and our contacts.”
She flipped the binder open. “Numbers are all arranged under categories. Like, say, Kijiraro is one of our donors, so the name of our contact at Kijiraro, Yamaki Hiro, and his contact information is all listed under K in the Donor section of the binder.”
She showed him a few other examples before shutting the binder and putting it away.
“When someone calls Red’s personal assistant, they’re usually trying to set up an appointment to either talk with Red or with someone higher up in financing or marketing. Sometimes, we get calls for our media department.”
She clicked through and showed him where to find the numbers for the department heads. “You’ll need to delegate calls to the managers in those departments if they’re not for Red himself.”
As she continued, she said, “The ones that /are/ for Red will ask when they can set up an appointment to talk. Some will try and be pushy, but most of them know he’s pretty busy.”

Takaiyo pulled up the schedule again, and Katsuki frowned.
It was color coded, from the looks of it. Pink was for lenders and banks, yellow for investors, light blue for media, and so on. The majority of his calendar was green, though.

“The green is when he’s on patrol,” Takaiyo explained, tapping the screen.
Katsuki narrowed his eyes. “He ever take a damn day off?”

“No,” she said with a soft huff. “He works every day. I think maybe he’s taken /one/ day off since I started working here.”

“How long’ve you been here?”

“Since January.”
So about nine months, then. Not very long, but Katsuki wasn’t one to compare his own work history with hers. The longest anyone had put up with his attitude had been six months.

“You’ll also be in charge of entering billing and other damage reports from when he /is/ out on patrol. While we don’t strictly deal with payouts—that’s HR’s thing—we do have to make sure that the records are all consistent.”

He nodded.
She glanced at the time and stood, pulling her phone out and scrolling through it until she opened the schedule app. “I’ll show you that when we’re done. Come on. It’s time for his daily.”

(In the next update, Baku will meet Kiri~)
Katsuki followed her into his new boss’s office. He half-expected to see Red Riot wearing a business suit because of the environment, but as he shadowed Takaiyo into the office, his heart jumped into his throat.
Yeah, Red Riot wasn’t wearing a suit.
He was wearing his hero costume, including the stupid little head gear thing. The only thing that he /wasn’t/ wearing was a shirt.
And for a disaster gay like Katsuki, that only spelled t-r-o-u-b-l-e.
When an extra couple os, because /Oh/.
Oh, he was /hot/.

Like way hot. Hotter in person than on the TVs downstairs or on the tabloid covers. Like, Red Riot had pecs so round and well-defined that Katsuki was 100% sure he was gay.
/So gay./

He swallowed hard as Takaiyo went over Red Riot’s daily schedule, explaining that he had a meeting with some investor at eight and another one at ten, right before he went on patrol.
The entire time, Katsuki could only stare at the other man’s broad, chiseled chest and his flawless arms. Veins rose over his muscles and wound down his arms and across his hands.

Thick hands.

Hands Katsuki wanted /all over him/.
/Oh my god. I’m so gay./

Then he finally raised his gaze to meet Red Riot’s, and his stomach clenched. The other man was beaming right at him, and it was obvious he’d just asked a question.
/Oh, fuck me./ “Hah?” he managed.

Takaiyo rolled her eyes.

“Sorry, man!” Red Riot said, standing and laughing. It was the most perfect cucking laugh Katsuki had ever heard, and he hated himself for liking it.
He wasn’t supposed to give a shit.

He was /supposed/ to keep some sort of distance. He was supposed to be professional about all of this. But shit. /Shit./ The guy was just too fucking beautiful.

It wasn’t fair.
“I just asked if you’re my new assistant,” Red Riot continued.

“Yeah,” he replied, making sure to scowl extra hard. “’S me.”

He held his meaty hand out. “I’m Sturdy Hero: Red Riot!”

“No shit,” he replied dryly.
Takaiyo gasped. “Sir, I’m so sorry! He hasn’t been briefed on office protocol and—”

But Red Riot just laughed, full and loud. He clapped Katsuki on the back. “No, it’s fine! I like it! Super manly, to be honest!”

She relaxed, eyes narrowing at Katsuki. “Right.”
Red Riot just kept grinning, wide, open. Friendly. “Maybe just don’t curse like that to investors, okay, kid? I don’t mind it if it’s just us, though.” He winked.


“Okay, Takaiyo, is everything set up for the sponsorship with TrainWell?”
She nodded and pushed her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose. “Yeah. The shoot starts next Tuesday. I’ll make sure Bakugou’s all caught up on where it is and what he needs to do.”

“Great! Thanks so much!”

She bowed. “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”
“Nah,” he said, leaning forward and thumbing through a pile of papers. “Oh! Um, Bakugou?”

He grunted.

“I have some fan mail that I could really use help with, if you don’t mind.”

Katsuki scowled. What the /fuck/ was he supposed to do with fan mail?
Red Riot pointed to a mail tub that was overflowing with letters, and Katsuki took that as his cue to grab it.

“What do I do with it?” he asked. “Burn it?”

That earned a look of shock from Takaiyo and another loud, warm laugh from Red Riot.
“No! Don’t burn it!” He leaned back, still chuckling. “I like your sense of humor, though. No, just go through it. Let me know if you come across anything that I should reply to personally, and send form letters to the rest.”
Katsuki narrowed his eyes.

“Come on,” said Takaiyo, grabbing him by the elbow and practically pulling him out of the office.
Once the door was shut, she rounded on him, eyes wide. “Are you /crazy/?”


“You can’t just—just curse like that! You can’t talk like that to him! He’s your /boss/!”
“Tch. Didn’t seem to give a fuck.” He dropped the box of letters onto the desk with a thunk and frowned at it.

Busy work.

He hated busy work.
Takaiyo groaned and rubbed her hands over her face, pushing her glasses up. “Just… don’t do it again, okay? I was part of the team that /chose/ you to replace me!”

“Ha. That was dumb.”

“Why?” she snapped. “Your records are clean, and you never called in to your other jobs!”
He rolled his eyes. “Um, ’cause I was /fired/ from my last job for attitude problems.”

She gawked.

“You didn’t know?” He almost laughed. Almost.

“No, I didn’t.”

He snorted. “Not very good at vetting new employees, are you?”
Takaiyo groaned and dropped into her seat. “Just… just go through the letters, okay? I’ll show you some of the other stuff later.”
Katsuki shrugged and pulled his chair over. He opened the first envelope and cringed at the letter inside. It was a hand-drawn picture of some… one… (gender was impossible to tell) with a crayon drawing of Red Riot.
The picture would have been cute if it hadn’t been covered in something sticky. It smelled like honey or syrup?

Fucking /yuck/.

Takaiyo didn’t bother looking up from her work. “Welcome to RIOT, Bakugou.”

(More later! Hope you're enjoying it so far~!)
The first few days were fairly uneventful. Katsuki learned how to enter information into the system, where to find cost reports, and what to do as far as setting up meetings over the phone.
The one blessing of his job was that Red Riot wasn’t actually in the building for the majority of the day Monday through Friday.
He came into the office at about 6:30 every morning, had meetings from about 8:00 to 10:00 or noon, depending on the day, then spent the rest of his shift out on patrol. After that, he’d come back to the office around 6:00 in the evening.
By then, most of the people working the day shift were gone, Katsuki included.

It was Thursday, and Katsuki was entering data into one of the spreadsheets for some damage done down near the center of the city.
He chewed his lower lip as he re-entered a few numbers. They’d been right the first time—he had fucking eyes, he could see that they were—but the sum total was /wrong/.

Katsuki had done the math by hand when the total coming out seemed off, and he’d been right.
It was off by about ¥11,000, which wasn’t a /large/ amount by all means, but it was enough for him to notice.

Unfortunately, it was going on 5:45, and Takaiyo had already left for the day, which meant he couldn’t fucking ask her about it.
This was the first day he’d really spent putting data like this into the system, and that was because she’d spent most of her shift flirting with Liberty.
Liberty was a female pro hero with long brunette hair, bronze skin, and a quirk that let her trap or release living beings in invisible cages. He wasn’t sure what her actual limits were, but he suspected she had to be able to at least /see/ whomever she was trapping.
Strong-ass quirk, that was for sure.

She’d just graduated not long ago and was climbing the ranks at break-neck speed, so he doubted she’d be at RIOT for much longer.

He bounced his leg and scanned the numbers again, entered them /yet again/ into his phone’s calculator.
When he got the same number with the ¥11,000 difference, he huffed and snapped his phone down, leaning back in the swivel chair and rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands.

He was so fucking tired that the numbers and words on his screen were blurring.
“Fucking shit,” he muttered.

“Hey! You’re still here?”

He jumped. “Jesus /fuck/!”

Red Riot laughed, beaming at him. “Sorry, Bakugou. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
Katsuki scowled and watched as his boss paused in front of his desk, tugging off one of the gears from around his shoulder. It had cracked and looked in pretty bad shape.
In fact, Red Riot looked pretty fucked up in general. Scrapes and bruises littered his perfect body, and his normally stone-straight shitty hair was left partially limp. He had dust and dirt smudged across his sweaty chest and dirty pants.
Katsuki swallowed hard and forced himself to keep his gaze locked on Red Riot’s face. “You fucking didn’t.”

Another peel of laughter. “Good! Glad to hear it. I’d hate to just sneak up on you!”
Why the /fuck/ did the thought of Red Riot sneaking up on him turn him on so much? Like, that shouldn’t make him get a chubs. It just fucking /shouldn’t/. But it did.

“So, what’re you still doing here?”
“Numbers ain’t adding up,” he muttered, leaning forward in his chair and glaring at the screen in front of him. For now, he needed to focus on his damn job, not on other occasions where his boss could sneak up on him or why he liked thinking about it. “I don’t fucking get it.”
Red Riot frowned and walked around the desk, leaning over his chair to read the numbers on the screen. “Well, if I remember right, you just put them in… yeah, just like you did here.”
He tapped the screen with one meaty finger, right next to one of the entry fields with a value inputted into it.

And holy /shit/.

Katsuki’s sat up, stiff as a board, his hands over his lap, hiding his now-more-than-chub.
His boss had never stood this close to him before. Ever. At most, they spoke to one another across Red Riot’s office during the morning updates. Maybe said hi to one another when they came into work, but that was /it/.
Red Riot’s natural musk was almost overpowering. He fucking /stank/. Like reeked. Smelled like he’d been dragged through summer without deodorant and had sweated up a fucking /storm/. His natural body odor mixed with WAY too much Axe body spray.
And Katsuki was /absolutely/ digging it.

“Yeah,” he said, voice thinner than he’d like. He tried to subtly clear his throat and said, “But the sum at the bottom seemed low, so I did it manually.” He pointed at the result of his last calculation on his phone. “’S fucking off.”
Red Riot’s eyebrows knitted, and shit—shit, did his lower lip just pucker out in a goddamn /pout/?

What the fuck.



“Yeah, it is. Hang on. Let me get changed, and we can take a closer look.” He pulled back, and Katsuki finally let out a slow breath of air and relaxed his posture, though his boss’s odor lingered after him.

“Oh!” Red Riot snapped his fingers. “Do you have plans tonight?”
Why the hell…?



Katsuki’s heart was immediately in his throat, and he almost couldn’t manage to say, “No,” in an even, normal voice. He /did/ manage, thank you. But it was close.
“Okay, good. I didn’t wanna keep you late if you had to be somewhere.”

With that, Red Riot disappeared into his office, shutting the door with a click behind him.
Immediately, Katsuki felt a hot blush tingle in his cheeks, embarrassed, because /of course/ his mind had gone to… other places. Not to work. Which… yeah. He should’ve fucking realized…

After all, Red Riot was his fucking /boss/.
He exhaled and scrubbed his hands over his face while he waited. Water. Tea. Shit, he needed something to calm his nerves.
/How long does it take him to change?/ Maybe he could sneak away and grab something to drink. Adjust his slowly growing boner. You know, the important stuff.
It couldn’t take him long, not unless…

/Does he shower up here, or in the locker room?/
Red Riot had a private bathroom in his office, but Katsuki had never seen inside. The door was always closed. It would make sense that, since he left his hero costume up here, he’d be able to shower up here, too, right?
The thought of /Red Riot/ showering and naked maybe twenty feet from him made him a little light-headed.

He didn’t get much of a chance to ponder that before the door swung open, and Red Riot emerged, dressed in street clothes.
Which were somehow even /sexier/ on him than his fucking costume. And his costume showed off his goddamn /nipple piercing/, so that was saying a lot.
He wore a pair of well-loved white-washed jeans with holes in the knees, a pair of office sneakers, and a (very, very) faded Crimson Riot V-neck tee-shirt. It looked at least a goddamn size too small for him and hugged every curve and dip of his body.
Red Riot dragged a spare rolling chair over and sat down next to Katsuki, the chair sagging under his weight, because he was, of course, fucking /massive/.
He leaned in close, brows knitting. His hair was tied up with a bandanna, and the overall look was making it very fucking hard for Katsuki to focus on the problem in front of them.
“Okay, let’s take a look.”
Katsuki swallowed hard and tried to put a little more distance between himself and his boss. Being so close to Red Riot was a little… too much.
But the older man just leaned closer—to reach the mouse and desk, of course, so he could navigate the screen. “Walk me through what you’ve been doing.”
He nodded and pulled over the sheets with the values on them. They came directly from the agency, and he showed Red Riot how he’d been plugging them in. “Simple,” he muttered. “Or it fucking should be. For some reason, everything’s off. I dunno why it’s summing wrong.”
His boss’s face scrunched up. “Let me see something.”
Katsuki pushed the mouse over to him, and Red Riot selected the cells in the spreadsheet before leaning across Katsuki to press a combination of keys on the wireless keyboard. He left his hands where they were, his shoulder practically pressing into Katsuki’s chest.
He could feel the heat coming off of Red Riot’s body, and /damn/, the hero ran warm. Like, really warm.
The closeness sent heat raging through him, and Katsuki subtly rolled a little further away from the pro hero to give himself enough room to breathe—and enough room to hide his erection.
Going into Gay Panic Mode™️ wasn’t going to do him any damn good right now.

A dialogue box popped up on the screen, and Red Riot’s expression darkened. “What’s this?” He waved the cursor in front of the equation the spreadsheet used to tally information.
“I… I don’t know,” he replied, frowning and leaning in. “Looks like… like someone made it so that the values in the boxes are rounded.”
They weren’t rounded by a whole lot—to the nearest yen. But rounding the values meant that there was /missing/ cost that wasn’t put into the spreadsheet.
“This is what HR and the agency officially submits to the city, right?” asked Katsuki. “For like taxes and for payout and everything?”

Red Riot nodded. “Yeah, it is.”

“So what happens to the missing money?”
“Well,” and his boss leaned back, finally giving Katsuki space as he reached for the papers, “I use these to cut the electronic checks to the city, and the reports are sent with them.”

His stomach tightens. “And if the checks are more than the reports submitted?”
“The city /would/ send the agency money for the discrepancy.”

Katsuki felt sick. “Who takes those checks?”
“Well, it /should/ be HR, but…” His eyes narrowed, red and dangerous. “For the last few months, Takaiyo has been handling most of the deposits.”

“Why?” he barely managed.
“She has an accounting degree. It made the most sense, since HR has been pretty busy with a bunch of other shit lately.”
A chill rolled over Katsuki’s skin as he reached for the mouse with a shaking hand. He minimized the current spreadsheet and opened one for the previous month. “What keys did you use to see the equation?”

Red Riot typed them in, and the equation popped up.
It was the same one, rounding the amount to the nearest yen.

Katsuki grabbed his phone and typed in the values in the actual boxes in the spreadsheet. “Can you double-check my work?” he asked as he worked.
Red Riot nodded and pulled his own phone out and began typing in the numbers.

Both of them came up with a difference of exactly ¥8,561.
“Shit,” Katsuki said, turning to his boss. “This is from /last month/. How long has she had access to these records and to the checks?”
“Since I hired her on,” he replied, slamming his phone onto the steel desk. A wave of rugged hardening cascaded over his skin, and he ground his pointed teeth together. “That fucking /bitch/.”
And Red Riot wasn’t one to curse, like /ever/. Katsuki may have only worked for him for a week, but in that time, he had almost never heard the Sturdy Hero cuss, let alone speak ill of anyone else.

So seeing him so thoroughly pissed off was a bit of a surprise.
“What should we do?” Katsuki asked at last.

“Well,” his boss said, voice low and enraged, “I’m getting the fucking cops involved, but this screws over my agency with the city. It means I owe the city a shit ton of money.”
“How much?”

Those ruby eyes darted to him, and the pro hero shook his head. “A lot. I’ll need to go through the accounts and double-check every. Single. One.”
Katsuki dropped his hands back to his lap. His entire body felt on edge, and he shook with nervousness. Normally, he wasn’t one to be put on edge by /anything/, but this was obviously very, /very/ bad. “How many accounts are there?”
“For nine months?” his boss asked, running his broad hands over his face. “Hundreds. I’ll need to double-check all of the investor accounts, too. If she was stealing from the city…”

“She was probably stealing from other sources, too,” Katsuki finished, scowling.
Red Riot nodded and jumped to his feet, cursing as he slammed his fist into the wall. He let out an enraged roar before stalking down the hallway and to the elevator.

Katsuki sat in silence for a few long seconds, completely stunned.
Then his gaze darted to the phone Red Riot had left sitting on his desk.
Does Katsuki unlock the phone or go after Red Riot to return it to him?
He grabbed the phone, and after locking his computer, he ran across the office toward the elevators. He arrived just in time to see the light shift to the B.

Red Riot had gone down to the basement, probably to work off some steam in the gym.
With a grumble, he pressed the down arrow and waited for the elevator to come back up. No one else was in the office; most of the people for the night shift were already out on patrol, and everyone who worked a normal day shift was already gone.
When the elevator finally came back up and Katsuki stepped inside, he grunted. He could still smell his boss’s heady musk in the confined space.
It fucked with his head a little, because he wanted nothing more than to wrap his fingers around his dick and get off. He felt like he’d been edging since his boss had come back from patrol.
Now wasn’t really the time to pop a boner, but at least he was alone. He stuffed his hands into his pants and quickly adjusted himself, shivering at the way his hand gripped his dick. Later. He could masturbate to his heart’s content /later/.

And he fucking /would/.
He rode the elevator down in silence, only sparing enough of a glance at his boss’s phone to see that it had a sturdy, red, nondescript case on it with black accents. If anyone found the phone, they wouldn’t know it belonged to a pro hero.
They’d think some poor rando had just dropped it.

He supposed it was probably a good thing that the phone was so nondescript. Probably lowered the chance of someone getting into it and fucking with Red Riot’s systems or agency.
/Well, that already happened, didn’t it?/ He sighed, frowning. /How could he be so dumb? Didn’t he check her background?/
But, well, maybe he had, and maybe she had found some way to hide whatever she’d done in the past. /If/ she’d done it in the past. This could be the first time Takaiyo had ever tried something like this.
He pressed his hand to his mouth in thought. /She wants to work for Intrepid, right? Deku’d rely on Red Riot’s personal experience working with her before hiring her…/
And until tonight, Red Riot had seemed pretty pleased with Takaiyo’s work. She was on time, never seemed to miss a day, always brought him his favorite coffee, was the perfect yes-woman, and dressed well for the office.
She spoke demurely and politely, too, which only further helped her look like the /last/ person who would embezzle money from a top hero.
/Thing is, because it’s been going on for so long and I’m the one caught it, the whole thing makes him look incredibly stupid,/ Katsuki thought with a deep frown.

That… actually pissed him off.
He’d come into this job four days ago with the firm belief that he /wasn’t/ going to give any shits, but after seeing Red Riot daily and sort of getting to know him a little, seeing his sunshine personality and how open and honest he was…
Having one of his employees fuck him over like this was unacceptable.
The elevator slowed and dinged as the doors opened. The rancid smell of body odor and sweaty feet hit him like a fist to the gut. Even though he spent a lot of time at his own gym at his apartment complex, he never /quite/ got used to that particular smell.



Someone was beating the absolute /shit/ out of a punching bag, and Katsuki had one guess who it was.
He headed into the main room of the gym and spotted Red Riot working out at the very far end. He’d peeled his shirt off and was bear-fisting a black boxing bag that had to weigh at least a hundred pounds.

Katsuki swallowed and glanced around.
No one else was here. Not that he’d expected them to be. Most of the interns, sidekicks, and heroes at RIOT worked out in the morning, before their shift began. After their shift, most of them were too tired. People who worked the night shift usually came in the late afternoon +
and were gone by six.
He squared his shoulders and headed over to his boss. “Oi!”

Red Riot didn’t hear him at first, his crimson gaze focused on the bag in front of him. He bounced on his legs, using his thighs—his /t h i c c/ thighs—to support his weight as he jabbed at the bag.
Katsuki got close enough to see a sheen of sweat across Red Riot’s forehead and his chest. Round pecs dripped with sweat, and his nipple piercing gleamed bright against his warm skin. He’d worked up a flush across his chest and cheeks, too.
Holy shit, Katsuki was glad he’d adjusted himself in the elevator.
“Oi!” he called again.

This time, Red Riot stopped and turned to him, straightening up to his full height. Sweat beaded across his brow and chest, and Katsuki had never wanted to lick another man as badly as he wanted to lick his boss right then.
A scowl hid his feelings well enough, and he held the phone out. “Forgot something.”

“Oh.” The other man laughed and rubbed the back of his head, looking embarrassed. “Woops.”

He took the phone from Katsuki.

“Thanks, man.”

Red Riot hesitated, then said, “Could you, uh, keep this whole thing under wraps? You know. Don’t say anything to Takaiyo?”

Katsuki shrugged. “Whatever.”

“Thanks. I just… you know, I don’t wanna give her a heads up or anything…”
“Said whatever.” He turned to leave, but Red Riot cleared his throat, and Katsuki turned back to him.
“I, uh…” He fell silent, and Katsuki waited for him to finish whatever it was he was gonna say. In the end, the pro hero just shook his head and gave a thin smile. “Thanks for catching that.”
“Sure,” he replied, still frowning. “Want me to correct this spreadsheet before I head out tonight?”
His boss thought about it for a few minutes before he said, “Let me talk to the police first. They might wanna set up a sting or something.” And he wiggled his eyebrows at that, obviously trying his damndest to make light of a tough situation.
Katsuki snorted to hide his laugh and rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say.”

“You heading out?”

“Yeah.” He headed back across the gym and gave a lazy wave. “See you tomorrow, Red Riot.”

“Kirishima,” the man called after him.

Katsuki paused and frowned, turning around.
The redhead had his back to him, though, and was pulling his shirt on. Muscles bulged and shifted, and Katsuki couldn’t help himself.

So what? He stared a little.

Nothing wrong with that.

Red Riot turned and grinned at him, running his hands through his hair as he jogged over to catch up with Katsuki. “You can just called me Kirishima.”
He raised an eyebrow at that and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Don’t forget your phone again, /Kirishima/.” With that, he headed back over to the elevators, though he /might/ have slowed up a bit so his boss could catch up.
After he ran back over, phone in hand, Kirishima beamed at him. “Thanks! I’d totally forget my legs if I didn’t need them to walk, you know.”

Katsuki gave a sharp smirk. “Not surprised.”

“You’re pretty blunt, aren’t you, kid?”
He groused at that, his smile falling into a dark frown. “Ain’t a damn /kid/.”

“No? I guess not, huh?” A warm, bubbly laugh.
Katsuki pressed the up button, and Kirishima continued his rambling, “I guess you are to me, though! You’re, what, nineteen?”
“Twenty,” he said haughtily, lifting his chin and glaring. “What’re you?” /Please don’t be like forty or something gross./ He was secretly hoping for maybe twenty-five, thirty at the /very/ oldest.
He chuckled, and a disgustingly warm feeling flowed through Katsuki’s chest. “I’m thirty-two.”
“Old man.” /Damn it./ Though thirty-two wasn’t /that/ bad, he supposed. Twelve years… it wasn’t that horrible of a gap, was it? He knew people whose parents were a decade apart. /So what’s two more years?/
“Hey!” Kirishima shouted, following Katsuki into the elevator. “I’m not /that/ old!”

Katsuki just leered at him with his trademark sharp-toothed grin. “That so?”

His boss pressed the ground floor button and pouted a little. “I’m not.”
“Oi, I need to go back to the sixth floor. All my crap’s up there.”

The redhead pressed six, too, and when they reached the ground floor, neither of them exited. The doors slid closed, and Katsuki leaned back against the wall.
“Not leaving yet or what?”

That earned him a nervous laugh. “I left my wallet and everything upstairs?”

“Tch.” He shouldn’t have been all that surprised, to be honest. Kirishima seemed like the forgetful type.
“So, do you have plans this weekend?” his boss asked, smiling down at him as he leaned against the back of the elevator as well.

He tried not to show how much that one little question sent his heart into a frenzied panic. “Nothin’ important.”
“So you /do/ have plans?”

“Just said I didn’t.”

The redhead beamed. “Kids—er, /people/ your age should have plans!”

“Like what?”

“I dunno. Going out! Getting drunk, going on dates, that sorta thing.”

“What? You don’t drink?”

“I drink!”

“You go out?”
He hesitated. He wasn’t really a go-out-in-public-unless-he-had-to sort of person. A tight wallet meant he didn’t have a lot of money to spend. And, /oh yeah/, people /sucked/. “No.”

“That’s a shame.” Kirishima tilted his head to the side.
/Why the fuck is that so adorable?/

“Not even with a girlfriend?”

His heart stopped. /Why is he asking me about that?/ “Don’t got a girlfriend.”

“Oh,” he said, then tacked on casually, “I’m sure you will in no time.”
“Don’t /want/ a girlfriend,” he said, watching as the elevator rose to the fifth floor. One more. Just one more floor.

Katsuki glanced at him and then immediately wished he hadn’t because /fuck/, his boss was looking at him with a seductive grin and hooded eyes. /No way. There’s no fucking way he actually…/

The elevator dinged. The doors slid open.

But neither of them moved.
Finally, Kirishima looked away and gave a nervous laugh. “Sorry, man. Shouldn’t’ve pried.” He stepped out of the elevator.
Katsuki trailed after, but didn’t try and catch up or say anything. He was already shaking from their conversation. He wasn’t /stupid/; he knew what those sorts of questions implied. And, yeah, his boss was fucking /sexy/, but he wasn’t sure /now/ was the best time for Kirishima+
to be caught flirting with his personal assistant.
He was about to say as much when his boss shut the door to his office and locked it. A few seconds later, the desk lamp turned on, and the pro hero sat down at his desk.

/Guess he’s done talking./
Katsuki wasn’t entirely sure he’d made a mistake by not answering. After all, Kirishima was going to get the police involved in an embezzlement scam. The last thing he needed was for it to get out that he was interested in his personal assistant.
/He might not even be,/ Katsuki thought as he gathered his things and shut his computer down. He put the ledger he’d been working from back in its spot before heading back to the elevator. /Not like he outright said anything, anyway./
In fact, the more he thought back to the conversation, the less convinced he was that his boss had been hitting on him.
It wasn’t like Katsuki was a great catch, anyway. Sure, he /looked/ good, but he was quirkless.

He was a nobody.

And there was no way in hell a /somebody/ like Red Riot would /ever/ be interested in him.
The next morning, Katsuki stopped by the coffee shop down the street from RIOT. Takaiyo had texted him saying she’d be late to work and asking him to pick up Kirishima’s typical morning order.

He didn’t mind, not really. This would be part of his job on Monday, anyway.
But something felt… /off/.
He couldn’t quite explain it, but something nagged at him as he walked toward the counter and put in the request. It still tugged at the back of his mind as he waited, and when he left with Kirishima’s hot coffee in hand, he still hadn’t figured out what it was.
By the time he reached RIOT, he was in one hell of a mood because he couldn’t figure out /what/ was bothering him so much.
He passed the reception desk, barely acknowledging the people already there. He didn’t know their names yet and doubted he would. Katsuki had always been better at remembering features, anyway. Names and faces all just sort of… melted together over time.
As he rode the elevator to the sixth floor, his eyebrows furrowed more. /What am I missing?/

Something about the whole scam /bothered/ him, and yeah, the fact that Takaiyo was embezzling money was part of it, of course, but…
He stepped off of the elevator and headed to Kirishima’s office, gaze locked on the gray carpet as he walked.

/Something about what he said last night? I don’t know./
It wasn’t their almost-not-work-appropriate conversation in the elevator that bothered him. Well, it /did/, but not in the same capacity. This was absolutely something embezzlement related.

/Ugh. I’ll figure it out eventually./ He always did.
He knocked on Kirishima’s office door and waited.

And waited.

A muffled voice came from the other side, and Katsuki peered through the frosted and textured glass window. He could see Kirishima, and it looked like he was on the phone, talking in a low voice.
Finally, he hung up and called, “Come on in!”

Katsuki opened the door and stepped inside, and to his surprise, Kirishima looked relieved.

His boss gave a nervous laugh. “Close the door, will you, Bakugou?”
It snapped shut behind him, and he walked over and set the coffee on his boss’s desk.

“Thanks,” Kirishima said, lifting it up in a small toast. He took a sip and sighed happily. “Thought you were Takaiyo for a second.”
Katsuki scowled at that. “She texted. Said she was running late and asked me to pick up your coffee.”
Kirishima nodded slowly. “Ah.” He frowned a little and said, leaning forward on his desk, “I just got off the phone with the police,” as he spoke, he kept his voice low, eyes on the door. “I filed the report last night, but they want to send someone over to seize our records and+
take her in for questioning.”
“Makes sense,” he replied, crossing his arms and leaning back a little.

The redhead looked tired suddenly, his wide shoulders drooping, his gaze falling to his desk. “I don’t really know what to do?”
In that moment, he sounded so small, so vulnerable. Katsuki’s lip twitched into a frown. /Oh, hell no./ “The hell you mean by that?”
“I built this company from my savings after school,” he said, still not looking up. “I worked so /hard/ for this, for my reputation as a good, reliable hero, and now… there’s a very /real/ chance that I could lose everything.”
“Stop that,” he snapped.

His boss blinked and looked up at him, eyes wide. “Huh?”
“Stop acting sorry for yourself,” he replied, trying to keep his voice low. It still sounded gruff and angry, though. “So some shit happened. So what? You’ll deal with it. You’re a pro fuckin’ hero, ain’t you?”

“Yeah, but…”
“But nothing!” And he /was/ angry now. “Do what you gotta do. Hell, if you need help going through the damn records and double-checking shit, ask! I’ll help you.”

“You… will?” He seemed totally shocked.
“’Course I fuckin’ will, you idiot.”
Kirishima laughed at that and ran his hand over the back of his neck. “Not the best way to talk to your boss, but I get it. You’re right.” He stood and slammed his fists together though his smile looked strained. “I can’t just sit here and wallow, can I? That’s not manly at all.”
“Exactly,” he quipped, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Don’t fucking give up just because some bullshit happened. You can fix this.”

His face fell a little. “What about the money I owe?”

“You know the exact amount yet?”

“Well, no…”
“Then don’t fucking worry about it right now. Once you know what you owe, you can figure out a way to pay it back.” It wasn’t like Red Riot wasn’t /rich/. Hell, as the eleventh-ranked pro hero, he made a /lot/ of money. He fucking had to, right?
Katsuki wasn’t sure how much, but it had to be enough for him to at /least/ have some way to pay the government back.
You got a savings, right? Investments?” he asked, and immediately tensed. It wasn’t his business whether Kirishima had a savings and what was in it, but he’d asked before he could stop himself.
“Oh, yeah! Of course! I just… really don’t want to rely those assets, you know? I don’t want to—”

“Then you’ve got enough to pay the prefecture and government back.”
Kirishima’s brows knitted, and his lips squirmed into a pout. “That’s not exactly the problem. I can pay it out of my pocket and not really lose much, I think, but RIOT’s reputation won’t be the same after this.” He lowered his voice. “How can I claim to be a good pro hero if I+
can’t even catch on when—”

Someone knocked on the door, and Kirishima tensed, eyes wide. He looked like a damn deer caught in traffic. His chest heaved, and his eyes dilated, like he was having a panic attack.
“Calm the fuck down,” Katsuki hissed. “Act normal. Relax.”

The older man still gawked at the door.

“Oi, look at me,” he snapped, voice barely more than a breath, but it worked.

Kirishima looked at him. Those bright red eyes focused on Katsuki and nothing else.
He tried not to let that get to him, tried not to preen under the pro’s gaze. “Calm. Down.”

He nodded, the motion jerky, but his shoulders relaxed a little.
“Sit back down,” he instructed. “Count to ten, then tell her to come in, and just act normal. We were just talking, that’s it.”
“Ah, um… okay. Yeah, you’re right.” He dropped back into his seat, the chair squeaking a little under him. Kirishima closed his eyes, his lips moving as he silently counted to ten.

And maybe Katsuki watched his lips a little too closely.
Watched how they formed the numbers, watched how they pressed together and how his tongue moved inside his mouth.

Watched as his boss relaxed hair by hair until he seemed almost at ease.

Watched as those lips parted again and his eyes opened and he called, “Come in!”
A little too cheerful, but Takaiyo probably wouldn’t notice.

/At least it worked,/ he thought, turning to the door.

Takaiyo strode inside, dressed in neat gray slacks and a light pink button down with a gray blazer. “Good morning, Red! Are you ready for your daily?”
He tensed, and Katsuki shot him a look. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second before Kirishima looked away again and nodded. “Yeah! Lay it on me!”

Katsuki wanted to slap his hand over his eyes. The dolt sounded /way/ too excited.
But Takaiyo didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary and pulled her phone out. She began listing off meeting times and who the meetings were with, but it was obvious Kirishima wasn’t paying attention.
His knee bounced as he tapped his heel against the carpet, and he looked nervous.

“—at eight with InSite and… hey, are you okay?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

“Fine!” he replied, voice pitched. “Fine, just… juuuust fine.”

/Fucking idiot./
“Um…” Takaiyo glanced at Katsuki and then back at Kirishima. “Something going on?”


“N-no! Why would you think that?” Kirishima asked, voice going higher. His motions were jerky as he spoke, and he waved his hands in front of him as if he could ward her off.
“Because you’re acting like something’s going on,” she replied, frowning and lowering her phone. She pushed her glasses up the ridge of her nose and scowled at her boss. “You didn’t plan any big surprises for me today, did you?”

It /was/ her last day, wasn’t it?

Katsuki spoke up, “We might have. The fuck’s it matter to you?”

She blinked, then smiled. “Aw! A surprise party? Red! You didn’t need to do that for me!”

He just laughed nervously.
At least it sort of made sense that he’d act like he’d been caught doing something wrong. Not that the surprise was actually a party, but… What the fuck ever. It would do.

“Y-yeah, well… couldn’t just let my star employee leave without a proper send off, could I?”
She beamed. “Thank you, Red. I’ll miss working for you.”

He just forced a smile.

“Oh! That reminds me, I have a lunch date with Intrepid. I hope you don’t mind if I take a longer lunch today? I need to get a few things squared away before I change agencies…”
Kirishima just nodded. “Sure, sure. Sounds good.”

“All right! Thanks!” She turned her screen off, then said, “I need to go down to HR to take care of a few things. Bakugou, can you man the phones while I’m gone?”

“Sure,” he grunted.

Takaiyo left, closing the door behind her.
Kirishima exhaled and slammed his forehead against his desk.

His /steel/ desk.

Hopefully he used his quirk first.

/Idiot./ But the thought was more affectionate than Katsuki expected it to be. “That was terrible.”

Kirishima whined, “I /know/. I almost messed up!”
“Good thing she thinks it’s just a surprise party,” he muttered, frowning at the door. Something she’d said bothered him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. The damn itch was back in the corner of his mind, and it was /frustrating/. “What time’re they gonna be here, anyway?”
“Who?” He still had his forehead pressed against the desk.

“The police,” he replied, rolling his eyes.

“Oh!” Kirishima sat up and rolled over to his computer before logging in. He pulled up his email and exhaled slowly. “Nine.”
“So before her lunch with Intrepid. Good.”

The redhead nodded, chewing his lower lip.

“Oi, you okay?”

“I mean no?” He scrubbed his hands over his face and let out a shaky sigh that /almost/ sounded like he was holding back a sob. “I trusted her, man. Like… with /everything/.”

“Yeah. Not just agency stuff, either. My home schedule, my apartment key… she did /everything/ for me. It’s… kinda fucked up? I dunno.” He paused, then said, “I… hope you won’t mind if I’m a bit leery? Just… for now?”
Katsuki’s face scrunched up. “Hah? Leery of what?”

“Oh. Um… of… of you?”
His stomach dropped to his feet. “Right.” His voice sounded steely and cold. “Sure.”
It made sense. Some small part of him realized that. But another part was hurt—even though he’d never admit it. Last night, it felt like maybe they’d made some progress, but this… this fucking /sucked/.
Well, there was a /reason/ Katsuki didn’t let people close. There was a /reason/ he didn’t have many friends.
This was /exactly/ that reason.

He turned on his heel.
“Wait, I—”

“Jus’ gonna take care of shit for your meetings,” he replied. “Don’t forget your call with InSite at eight.” He snapped the office door shut behind him.
At about eight thirty, Katsuki was entering data into spreadsheets and Takaiyo was chatting with Liberty at her nearby cubicle when the phone rang.

Katsuki grabbed it before Takaiyo could even reach for it. “Red Riot’s office.”
She mouthed, “What can I do for you?” And then she pointed to her wide smile. On Tuesday, she’d told him that clients could /hear/ a fucking smile over the phone and insisted he smile whenever he answered a call.
Katsuki have never heard anything so stupid in his entire goddamn life.

He sneered at her, but choked out, “The fuck can I do for you?”

Her cheeks paled, and she slapped a hand over her forehead.
Liberty laughed, doubling over and clutching her stomach. “You’re going to /kill/ me, kid,” she wheezed.

The woman on the other end of the line huffed. “This is Chief of Police Saitama. Is there a reason we weren’t patched through /directly/ to Red Riot?”
/Oh, shiiiiit./ His stomach tightened, and he felt the blood drain from his cheeks and neck. /Fuck, fuck, fuck./

He swallowed hard. “My apologies, ma’am,” he said, voice tight. “He’s in the middle of a meeting with an investor.”
“This is urgent. Patch me through.”

And shit yeah it was. Hell, it sounded like she was actually out in traffic right now, if the faint whirring motors he heard could be believed.
Katsuki said, “Right away. Hold, please.”
Rather than try and go through speaker phone, Katsuki stood to knock on his boss’s door. Normally, he would have shot Kirishima a message through their private intranet chat, but he didn’t want to chance Takaiyo reading it and catching on.
She frowned. “What is it? Who was that?”

“Sec,” he muttered before pushing into Kirishima’s office without even waiting to be acknowledged. He shut the door tightly and walked over to his boss’s desk.
His boss frowned at him, looking thoroughly confused. The person on the other end of the line was still chatting, and Kirishima covered the mouthpiece of the phone. “What’s up?”

“Police, line two.”
Kirishima’s ruby eyes widened, and he said into the receiver, “I’m sorry to cut you off, Hitimo-sama, but I just received an emergency call. My assistant will reschedule with you.”

He barely waited for a reply before ending the call and jumping to the second line.
Katsuki was about to leave when Kirishima said, “Wait, Bakugou.”

So, he stopped and waited.

Kirishima’s attention returned to the phone call, and he motioned Katsuki over to one of the spare black leather chairs opposite him. “Yes, hello? This is Red Riot.”
The Chief of Police prattled away on the other end of the line, and a few long seconds later, Kirishima nodded and said, “Yes, ma’am.” He leaned forward, hand over the mouthpiece again, and whispered, “She’s still here, right?”
Katsuki nodded. “Right outside.”
“Good.” To the Chief of Police, he said, “Now’s a good time. Go for it.” To Katsuki, hand over the mouthpiece again, “Get everything ready for them to seize. They’re on their way. Send Takaiyo in before you start. I’ll keep her busy in here until they show up.”
He stood. “Yes, sir.”

A hazy expression crossed Kirishima’s face—just briefly—before the redhead returned to his conversation with the Chief of Police. “Uh. Oh, yes, ma’am. No.”
Katsuki left the room and almost walked into a scowling Takaiyo.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Boss wants to see you about something,” he replied.

She raised an eyebrow at that, but scoffed and went into the office.
Katsuki caught a glimpse of Kirishima snapping the phone down before she shut the door on him.

He looked nervous.
/Hopefully he doesn’t fuck this up,/ he thought as he sat down and began pulling electronic records. The paper files were held downstairs with HR, but he filled out the forms the police would need to take the originals with them.
Not five minutes later, the elevator dinged, and a group of men and women in uniform marched across the office.
A woman in uniform led the group, long black hair tied back in a low ponytail that peeked out from under her cap. She narrowed her gray eyes at him and snapped, “You the brat I spoke to on the phone?”
“That’s me,” he muttered.

She scowled, examining him in silence for a beat. Then she smirked. “I see. Where is she?”

“Office,” he replied.
“Hikiro, Sari, you’re with me. Jikito, get what we need from the kid.” With that, the two officers and the Chief of Police strode into the office without knocking.
Katsuki handed over the forms the officer would need, gave him a copy of all of the electronic files, and directed him to HR and who to talk to.

“What’s going on?” he heard Takaiyo demand.

“Takaiyo Shiori, we would like to speak with you regarding an incident.”
“What? What incident?”

The Chief of Police’s heavy voice carried well: “I’d rather we had this talk down at the station. Please come with us.”

She didn’t argue.
Less than two minutes later, Takaiyo was being escorted from Kirishima’s office—though she wasn’t in handcuffs. She scowled at Katsuki, eyes narrowed in rage.

He waited, breath held, until she and the cops vanished into the elevator.
/That went quicker than I thought./ He let out a slow, strained breath. At least no one had been hurt. He didn’t know if Takaiyo had a quirk, and that was one variable he wasn’t really interested in finding out about the hard way.
Liberty’s eyes were wide, mouth hanging open. “Um, what just happened?”

“Nothing,” he quipped.

Her eyes slid to him. “Obviously it was /something/. Not gonna tell me, huh?”
“Not your fucking business,” he replied, and almost on instinct, as if to protect Kirishima from people’s glowers and questions, he strode over to shut his boss’s door.
When Katsuki peered into the office, he saw Kirishima bent over his desk in his chair, head in his hands. His shoulders were shaking, and it looked like he was in tears.
Katsuki stepped into his small studio apartment and shut the door behind him before kicking his shoes off in the genken. He sighed, shoulders slouching forward as he slumped back against the door.
The rest of the day at the office had been quiet, but not the sort of quiet where people got their work done.
No, it was the kind of quiet where everyone was tense and on-edge, where it seemed like nothing got done. The kind of quiet where Kiri—/no/. It was the kind of quiet where Red Riot himself had stayed locked in his office rather than going out on patrol.
It was the kind of quiet where everything was /wrong/.
Because of Red Riot’s pro hero status, the cops had delved directly into the information RIOT had provided. Unfortunately, they had no strict proof that Takaiyo was the one who had altered the equations in the spreadsheets.
Everything—all of the evidence against her—was circumstantial. Sure, her login was used, and sure, none of the records had been altered until /after/ she was hired and given access to certain accounts.
But in reality, the computer was open to anyone in the office.

/Anyone/ could have used her login information to access it.

The missing money still hadn’t been tracked down, either.

Red Riot had nothing on her. No substantial proof.

So, she had been released after questioning. Of course, she never /did/ make her lunch with Intrepid. Katsuki only knew about that because fucking Deku had his cell number and knew that he worked for RIOT now.
At about two that afternoon, he’d received a text from the number-five hero.

|Deku| [14:09:33]: Kacchan! My new assistant?? What hppnd??? She never showed for lunch!! I heard a rumor abt embezzlement??? Is it tru???
Stupid. Fucking. Deku.

Katsuki had sent a rather eloquent text back.

|Me| [14:17:45]: 凸( ̄^ ̄)凸

|Deku| [14:17:57]: Not nice Kacchan!

|Me| [14:21:01]: I can’t fucking talk about it.

|Deku| [14:22:13]: Fiiiiiine. Fair enough. 😢

|Deku| [14:22:39]: So, is he cute??
Katsuki knew exactly who /he/ was, and it pissed him off that Deku had even asked. He’d opted to leave the other man on read and get back to doing his fucking job.

Now, though, Katsuki was home.
He had no excuses, no distractions, and he pulled up the chat log again, the last message staring him the face.

/So, is he cute??/

“Is he…?” he mumbled, his mind drifting to Red Riot’s giant, too-warm smile.
Then, disgusted with himself, he tossed his phone onto his futon before heading back to the small three-piece bathroom. He was absolutely /not/ going to think of his boss that way.

No way in fucking hell.
He needed a damn shower. Unfortunately, his shower was /barely/ big enough for him to wash himself in.
You know the type. Took up the corner to the small bathroom, but somehow the landlord managed to hire a contractor who would make everything /too small/ to cram more apartments together and “save space”.

It was shitty, and he absolutely /hated/ it, but he couldn’t afford anything better. At least he had a working shower and toilet.

Katsuki stripped down and turned the hot water on.

/So, is he cute??/

What a stupid fucking question.
/Fucking Deku./ He slipped under the hot water and turned to let the spray splatter against his face, eyes closed. As steam rose around him, his mind kept wandering back to that text.
Was Red Riot cute? Yes. Of course he was. Anyone with fucking eyes and a sex drive could see that much. With those big, round pecs, those strong arms… perfect abs… brilliant, sweet smile.

His honest, glittering eyes…

Katsuki hand trailed lower, and he leaned against the wall of his sower as his fingers slipped around his dick.

And that /smell/. God damn it.

The way his boss always reeked of sweat and body spray. The way that the fucker exuded manliness out of every goddamn pore.
/So, is he cute??/

Katsuki grunted as he slowly swirled his thumb over the head of his cock. It barely peeked out of his foreskin, and he rubbed and lightly pinched at the skin, inhaling sharply as pleasure tingled down to his balls and feet.
He rested his forehead against the wall of the shower and dropped his other hand to his ass, kneading and working his left cheek.
It was plump and round. Katsuki knew he had a fucking glorious ass. He worked for that shit, too. Squats and lunges galore. Mountain climbing… he made /sure/ to keep in good shape.

As he groped his ass, he imagined his hand was bigger. Rougher.
/So, is he cute??/

How /dare/ Deku ask him that? Like he fucking thought Katsuki would /ever/ answer a question like that.

Those red eyes gazing out at him, hooded, over a sly smile…
Katsuki grunted, his right hand working his cock a little faster. It was already getting heavier, fuller. He could feel the girth swelling in his palm. He stroked up the growing length and gently flicked the tip, wishing his hand was someone else’s.


“Shit,” he gasped as he kneaded his ass and worked his cock until his groin throbbed. He rolled up on the balls of his feet, wishing he could thrust into something.
The hand massaging his ass worked further back, and a finger pressed lightly against his asshole. He didn’t need lube; not for one finger. That was all he wanted tonight, anyway.
It slipped inside, and he grunted, eyes closing. Heavy pants rose and fell, echoing throughout the bathroom as he angled his hand a little better. From this position, he couldn’t get to his prostate, but that was fine.
This way, he could pretend his boss was teasing him.

“Such a fucking cock tease anyway,” he huffed out, voice low and gruff.

/So, is he cute??/

“No, Deku,” he rasped, “he ain’t fuckin /cute/.”
Katsuki pumped his dick faster, making sure to thrust his finger inside of himself at the same pace, matching thrust for stroke.
Red Riot wasn’t fucking /cute/. He was a goddamn /Adonis/. He was /hot/. He was /sexy/. He was /gorgeous/. He wasn’t /cute/. He could bend Katsuki in /half/, could use those sharp teeth to make him up good.
Katsuki’s mind drifted back to when the two of them had been in the elevator together. How his boss had looked at him like he was candy. How he’d imagined them surging into one another and kissing. How he’d masturbated to the thought of being held in those massive arms.
His breathing picked up, the heat burning in his groin growing and growing.

His balls twitched.

He was close.

So close.

“Shit,” he gasped.
He imagined Kirishima shoving him into the elevator wall and kissing him so roughly that his lips and tongue were cut up. Imagined the larger hero leaning over him at his desk at work. Imagined him pressing in close.
The thought of Kirishima grinding on him made Katsuki’s balls lift, and he gasped, breathless, as the heat inside of him snapped.
Cum splattered against the shower wall, and he stood there in silence, panting and shaking from the intensity of his orgasm. Shit. His legs were barely able to hold him up.
He closed his eyes and let his mind drift into post-orgasmic static. It felt good. Nice.

And then it betrayed him and wandered somewhere else.

/“I… hope you won’t mind if I’m a bit leery? Just… for now?”/

And who was he leery /of/?

/“Oh. Um… of… of you?”/

Of him.
Katsuki bit back the pain and turned the hot stream of water onto the wall of the shower to wash away his shame—to wash away his fucking /feelings/.
His boss was leery of /him/? Really? Of /Katsuki/? Of the guy who had discovered the problem in the first place? Hell, he hadn’t even been around to mess with the accounting crap when this shit had started!
He’d been there for Kiri—FUCK—Red Riot, too! He’d even offered up his free time to help the hero figure out the damn accounts, and now the pro hero said he was /leery/ of him?


Fucking whatever.

Not like Bakugou fucking Katsuki ever needed anyone else, anyway.
He huffed and grabbed his body sponge, drizzling a healthy amount of his favorite cinnamon and cedar soap onto it and scrubbing his body until his skin turned pink. The harder he scrubbed, the less he felt like he’d just masturbated to a man who was /leery/ of him.

After he washed his hair, he stalked into his bedroom, completely naked.
He lived alone, so there was zero reason for him to be shy about his body when he was home. Besides, his bathroom was the only “separate” room in his little, cramped-ass studio apartment, and he barely counted it as a damn room.
Katsuki initially reached for a fresh pair of sweatpants, then scowled and cursed.

“Need a fucking drink.”

/Normally/ he wouldn’t have even considered it, but Kiri—FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT—/RED RIOT’S/ words for the previous night at the gym bothered him.
/“You go out?”/

’Course he fucking didn’t.

/“That’s a shame.”/


He needed a goddamn drink, anyway, and he had enough money to get a couple of drams. Maybe. Fuck it. Maybe he could call Big Tits. She was always down for a good time, and she usually had money. How she got it, Katsuki had no fucking clue.
The fact that she /had/ it was what enticed him.

After tugging on a pair of fresh, bright orange boxer-briefs and a pair of black harem pants, he grabbed a black tee-shirt with a skull on it and headed back into the main room of his apartment to retrieve his phone.
After unlocking the screen, he shot a text off to Big Tits to see if she was free.

|Me| [18:22:45]: Yo, bish. U free?

Like always, she texted back almost immediately.

|Camie| [18:23:00]: NOOOO~!!! im not babe 😭 got patrol 2nite

Katsuki cursed.

|Me| [18:23:39]: Fuck u 2
|Camie| [18:23:57]: BABE!!!! Don’t b like that! PLOXXXX… ill do anything!!!! ILYBB!~!

|Me| [18:24:16]: U owe me a fucking drink

|Camie| [18:24:22]: U got it bae!!! 2morrow, kk? ❤💖💝😘😍🥂🍻🍾
Katsuki scowled and shoved his phone into the pocket of his harem pants. Whatever. He’d probably have more fun on his own anyway. Being out alone meant he wouldn’t be beholden to anyone else, anyway.
It meant he could come back to his place whenever he got sick of the idiots out and about.

So, he yanked on a pair of black loafers and headed out after locking up.
As he sauntered down the stairs, he scowled at the cement underfoot. It pissed him off that even after his boss had told him he was /leery/ of him, he’d gotten hot and bothered enough to masturbate to him.
He exited his apartment building and kicked a rock down the sidewalk before hooking a right and heading down to the bar. It was one of the few close by, and he sauntered inside and straight to the counter.
For a Friday, the place was roaring, which was surprising. The bartender, a middle-aged man named Maki, was busy running back and forth and taking orders.
Katsuki hopped into an open chair and watched the other man. He had short-cropped dark hair with silver at the temples and a friendly smile under sharp, clever eyes. Crows feet and soft wrinkles marred his handsome face.
Honestly, if he wasn’t nearing fifty, Katsuki would’ve been interested in banging him.

“Yo, kid,” Maki said, sidling up and grabbing a dram glass. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Been fucking busy, /old man/,” he replied, slouching backward and glaring at the TV set up above the bar. “Some of us have /lives/.”

A group of men and women down the cement bar from him roared and cheered as one of the QMMA fighters on the screen was knocked out.
(Author's note: QMMA = Quirk Mixed Martial Arts)
Maki chuckled. “What d’ya want? Ardbeg?”

“Nah,” he muttered, scowling. “Give me something new.” He liked Ardbeg a /lot/, but he was getting tired of it.

“Got some Aberfeldy. Twelve. It’s not bad.”

“Tch. Whatever.”
“Someone’s in a mood.” He reached over to grab the bottle of amber liquid before pouring the dram. “What happened?”

“Like you’ve got time to talk,” Katsuki muttered, jerking his chin toward a group of girls at the other end of the bar. “Go flirt or some shit.”
Maki laughed. “You know me too well, bro.”

With that, the bartender left him to drink away his frustrations.
By the time Katsuki was on his third dram, he felt a little less annoyed. His cheeks were warm, and a nice buzzing roamed through his arms and legs. Everything felt heavy, but in a sort of blissful way, and he actually found himself watching the QMMA match with interest.
The match ended shortly after, and a lot of the people at the bar either broke off to head home or met up in booths to keep drinking. People cycled around the bar proper, milling around as they waited for drinks before slipping off.
Katsuki shoved his empty glass across the counter and scowled as the news popped up, subtitles covering the various stories.

One was about the events at RIOT.

“Just can’t get away from the fucker, can I?” he snarled.

“I hope you don’t mean /me/.”
He froze, turning to see Red Riot in street clothes. He wore dark wash jeans tonight, boot cut, which he seemed to favor. He wore a white scoop-neck tee-shirt, which wasn’t fucking /fair/ because Katsuki could /totally/ see his goddamn nipples through it.
His red hair was spiked perfectly, and he wore a thick black leather band on his right wrist. His left was covered in an assortment of beaded bracelets.

The pro hero gave Katsuki a sheepish smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Thought you didn’t go out?”
“I fucking /don’t/.”

“Ah.” He chuckled softly, gaze darting to the open stool next to Katsuki. “That seat taken?”
“Fuck you,” he snapped, turning back to the bar and watching Maki rush around like a fucking idiot.

His boss just laughed and slipped onto the seat. “I see you’re just as friendly outside work as you are in the office.”

He scowled, but didn’t look at the redhead. “Tch.”
Red Riot leaned forward, like he was trying to get Katsuki’s attention. “Hey, so… Intrepid’s not hiring Takaiyo.”

“No shit.” Not surprising, if he was honest. Deku would’ve been a fucking /idiot/ to hire her after today’s events.
But if Red Riot knew that, then that meant the two heroes had talked at some point. Which probably meant…

His scowl darkened at the thought of fucking /Deku/ talking to his boss. /So, is he cute??/ The stupid text was still unanswered. “How much does he know, anyway?”
“Just what’s in the public report from the police.”

At least Katsuki hadn’t made even /more/ of a fool of his boss and leaked information to his friend. He was pretty sure Deku hadn’t meant to pry or try and weasel information from him; he wasn’t a dubious person.
He was just… earnest, and sometimes, it made him come off as invasive.
“He called me,” Red Riot continued, scratching the underside of his stubble-lined jaw. He chuckled lightly. “Imagine, pro hero Intrepid calling /me/.” He shook his head, smiling widely. “Anyway, he wanted to know more information. Asked why you wouldn’t tell him anything.”
Katsuki nodded to Maki as the bartender finally came over. /Fucking Deku, I swear to GOD, if you said anything, I’ll kill you./

“Hey, man,” he said to Red Riot. Thank god for Maki changing the topic. “You look familiar.”

The pro hero just beamed. “Bet I do!”
“Been all over the news today,” said Maki in his normal I’m-not-gonna-push-so-don’t-feel-obligated-to-share manner. He moved to pour Katsuki another dram of the Aberfeldy.

“Gimme Glenmorangie,” he said, holding his hand over the glass. “Fifteen.”
Maki raised an eyebrow at that. “Sherry cask?”

“If you’ve got it.”
Red Riot smirked and leaned against his hand, eyes trained on Katsuki. He almost looked the same as he had in the elevator the previous night—eyes hooded, lips curved with that seductive tilt. “Whisky fanatic, eh?”
Maki returned and poured the glass, raising an eyebrow at Katsuki when he didn’t answer the pro hero’s question. “My pickiest customer.”
Katsuki grabbed the fresh dram and sipped it, glowering at the bartender. Glenmorangie was one of his favorites; no peat and very little smoke, but malty and warm.

“And you?” asked Maki, nodding to Red Riot.
He hummed and cast Katsuki a look—one that almost seemed… /flirty/. “Well? Got any recommendations for me?”

/He fucking serious right now?/
And of course he was. Red Riot and Maki both waited for him to suggest something, and Katsuki leaned forward to avoid his boss’s smoldering gaze as he said, “Jus’ give him fuckin’ Ardbeg. Twelve.” It was better than the ten or fifteen, anyway. Well, depending on your tastes.
“Ardbeg?” asked Kiri—Red Riot—like he’d never heard of it before.
“Tch. The best whisky there is. If you don’t fuckin’ like it, I’ll drink it,” he said, feeling the tingling flush in his cheeks and jaw, down across his neck at the thought of drinking from the same glass as the other man.

Stupid, handsome idiot.
The redhead’s grin just widened. “I think I’d like just about anything you recommend.”

Maki quirked an eyebrow at that, but poured the dram and passed it over to Red Riot. He held his hand out, and the pro hero handed over a credit card.
“If he hasn’t already paid for his drinks, put ’em all on my tab.”

Katsuki bristled at that. “Oi, I don’t need your damn charity!”
Red Riot smiled warmly. “Not charity! Think of it as just a fun night out with a bro! Besides, I /enjoy/ buying for other people. Makes me feel good!”
Katsuki scrunched his face, trying to figure out what this asshole’s deal was. There was obviously more to that statement than what Red Riot had said. He just wasn’t sure what that “more” was.
Still, he didn’t like it when people bought him stuff or felt sorry for him. In fact, he fucking /hated/ it when people acted like he couldn’t pay for his own stuff.

He /could/ pay.


Right now, though?
Last he’d looked, he’d had /maybe/ six hundred yen in his account. Six hundred wasn’t much of anything, and he needed it to last him as long as possible (yeah, going out drinking was dumb, but whatever).
So, if Red Riot was willing to pay, maybe Katsuki should let him. It wasn’t like he was paying out of pity, anyway. Besides, he /had/ discovered an embezzlement scam at his boss’s company, right? So he’d fucking /earned/ this. Wasn’t a handout if it was earned, was it?
“Fine,” he muttered at last.

“That’s the spirit!” said Red Riot, and he leaned in, looping his free arm around Katsuki’s shoulders.
Immediately, Katsuki tensed, his shoulders stiffening and his heart launching into overdrive as the older man pulled him close. His stomach clamped uncomfortably around the last few drinks he’d enjoyed, and he tried not to panic at being held so casually.
His boss smelled really, /really/ good, too. Like heady body spray and natural musk. He repressed the urge to lean closer and inhale, tried to fight off the sudden interest swelling in his crotch.
“What the fuck,” he rasped, trying to push his boss off of him. “Get off of me, idiot!”
The other man laughed and lifted his glass for a toast, but he pulled away, clapping Katsuki on the shoulder before removing his hand. “Sorry! I’m a bit touchy. Oh well. To our troubles and sorrows!”
He grunted and adjusted his shirt, scooting in closer to the counter to hide his half-erect dick. “You don’t gotta sound so fuckin’ cheerful. And why the hell would you toast to /that/ shit?”
He sipped the whisky and smiled, relaxing. “Oohhh, that’s /good/. And because maybe if I celebrate my troubles, they’ll go away!”

He snorted. “Fat fucking chance.”

“Aw, c’mon. Gotta have a little hope, right?”
And damn it, with the way Kirishima was looking at him… he did want to have hope. He wanted to hope that maybe the way his boss looked at him wasn’t entirely in his damn head. He /wanted/ Kirishima to want him.
Katsuki looked away to keep from letting those thoughts consume him or revealing how he felt.
It was hard not to get caught in Kirishima’s orbit. He was so magnetic, his personality so fucking strong. He was impossible to ignore, and it was beyond difficult not to get sucked into that fucking bright star and want to smile and laugh.
If he wasn’t careful, he’d get pulled in. He’d let his guard down and get hurt again, which… No fucking way.

Like hell was he gonna let that happen again.
His boss nudged his shoulder, and Katsuki yanked away. /Asshole really is touchy, isn’t he? Fuck my life./

“Anyway,” said Kirishima, and there was a soft sing-song note to the way he spoke, “Intrepid called me.”
/Crap. Not this again./ He’d hoped that Kirishima had forgotten their earlier conversation. “You fuckin’ said that already.” Damn, the alcohol was making it hard to be this close to the other man. He wasn’t drunk, but he certainly wasn’t sober.
He nodded, still smiling, and continued. “It sounded like he and you know each other pretty well.”

Even Katsuki couldn’t ignore the implication of the statement. “Grew up with the idiot.”
“Wow! You actually know /the/ Intrepid, then? Like, pretty well, huh? I bet he’s so cool! So manly.”

“The fuck’s your deal with this manly bullshit?” he snapped, trying to change the course of the conversation.
Kirishima hummed and set his dram down. It was still half full. “I guess I just like things that reflect a good moral code, you know? Like… being strong and brave and smart!”

“Tch.” He hunched his shoulders, trying to keep his barriers up.
But… fuck, it was getting more and more difficult with how open and honest his boss was. And, well, him being sexy as /fuck/ didn’t help things. Not to mention the fact that Katsuki was already struggling with wanting him.
/Craving/ him was more like it.

/Shit. Shit, is it hot in here?/

Certainly fucking felt like it was. His face and neck were on fire. After finishing his Glenmorangie, Katsuki pushed away from the bar.
“Where’re you going?” asked Kirishima.

“Bathroom,” he grunted out before heading down the narrow hall to the single-toilet bathroom near the back. There were two bathrooms, and one was occupied.
Katsuki took the unoccupied one and slammed the door shut, locking it and leaning against the cool wood door. He took a few deep breaths, trying to will away the heat in his cheeks and the remaining arousal from when his boss had touched him.
Water. He needed some damn water on his face.

After twisting the faucet on, he splashed cool water over his burning cheeks and neck. A few drops trickled down his throat and under his shirt. He shivered and leaned on the porcelain basin, staring into the mirror.
“I don’t like him,” he muttered. “I don’t. He’s my /boss/.”

Yeah, he didn’t believe those words one bit.
Katsuki groaned and pressed his forehead against the lip of the sink. Four drinks in, and he was a little fuzzy-headed, but not drunk. Hell, until Kirishima had shown up, he’d actually felt /relaxed/.

But now he was tense and uncomfortable and turned on. It just wasn’t /fair/.
/Thunk, thunk, thunk./

“Bakugou? Are you okay, man?”
Katsuki squinted at the door, trying to figure out why the /fuck/ his boss had come to check on him. He’d only been in the bathroom a minute, maybe two. Not long at all. Certainly not long enough to warrant a check-up.
He stormed over and snapped the door open. “You always check in on people when they’re pissing?”

Kirishima laughed. “Naw, man. You looked a little sick, though. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“’M fucking fine, asshole.” He tried to shove past him, but Kirishima didn’t move. Asshole was like a brick wall.

“You’re all sweaty.”

“’S fucking /water/!”

“Oh. Why do you have water all over your face?”

Katsuki gawked. “Why the /hell/ do you think?”
Those hooded eyes dropped to him, and those perfect, sweet lips curved in a way that set Katsuki’s skin on fire. Kirishima leaned in closer and murmured in his ear, “Because I make you hot and bothered, and you needed to cool off.”
He froze.

Kirishima smirked down at him. “Am I wrong?”

“WHAT THE FUCK!” he shouted, stumbling backward and away from his boss, heart pounding and eyes wide. “YOU—YOU CAN’T JUST SAY SHIT LIKE THAT!”
His boss’s suave expression shifted, and suddenly, he looked worried. Maybe even scared. Kirishima stepped back, hands up. “I—I’m sorry! I didn’t—I misunderstood! I sh-shouldn’t’ve…” And before Katsuki could say anything, the pro hero turned and fled.
Katsuki stood in complete silence. As his brain tried to comprehend what had just happened, it dawned on him.

His boss /was/ attracted to him. Like actually interested! Red Riot—/the/ Red Riot—was into him? No fucking way. No fucking /way/!
And Katsuki was totally into /him/, and—


“SHIT!” he bellowed, and he took off after the redhead. “Shit, shit, shit! SHIT!”
When he reached the bar, he paused only to check to see if Kirishima was still inside.

A glance from Maki to the door told him that, no, the pro hero wasn’t inside the bar anymore.

So, Katsuki /ran/.
He threw the door open and scanned the dark street. It was late, and only a few people were out. To the left, he saw a couple walking hand in hand and a few other people, and to the right—
YES! To the right was Kirishima, broad shoulders hunched over as he turned the corner at the end of the block.
Katsuki bolted after him, screaming to himself, /He likes me, too. He likes me, too!/

That was all that mattered.
He rounded the corner and almost slipped on his ass. His heart pounded, and his feet slapped against the concrete. He reached out. Fingers wrapped around Kirishima’s thick wrist.
The other man yelped, eyes wide as he turned around. A wave of hardening rolled over his body as a natural reflex, but Katsuki didn’t give two shits. Even when the hardened skin scraped across his palm, he didn’t let go.
The question was stifled as Katsuki yanked Kirishima down to his level and kissed him.
The kiss was chaste, nothing more than lips against lips, but the forcefulness of Katsuki’s actions had his head reeling and his heart pounding. His stomach tightened, and even though the kiss was nice, he suddenly felt sick.
He pulled back, eyes wide.


Shit. He’d just kissed his boss! FUCK!
What if he’d been wrong? What if he’d jumped to conclusions? This was his BOSS, not some—some random /hero/, but the man who paid his wages, the man who’s hired him, the man who—
Kirishima surged forward, pulling Katsuki into his arms and kissing him back. It felt like… like electricity and fear and worry and affection and a base, desperate desire.

And Katsuki wanted all of it.
He looped his arms around the pro hero’s neck and leaned in, but as quickly as the kiss started, it ended.

Kirishima backed away, cheeks flushed. “Ah… haha… Sorry.”

“Why the fuck are you apologizing?” Katsuki demanded. “’M the one who kissed you first, idiot.”
“Yeah.” Then he gave Katsuki a shy smile. “So… I wasn’t wrong? You… like me?”

“I have fucking /eyes/.” And he rolled them, scoffing a little. “’Course I like you.”
Kirishima’s hands were still on Katsuki’s shoulders, and he rubbed his thumbs over his shirt, the small motions soothing. “Yeah, you do. Pretty ones, too.”
“So,” he said, frowning a little at the comment but choosing not to address it, “what’s this mean? Thought you were leery of me or some shit.”
That made his boss’s cheeks turn bright red, and he pulled his hands away. “Okay—look, I shouldn’t have… um… can we talk?”

“We fucking better.”
That seemed to relieve some of the tension in the other man’s shoulders. “Yeah. Yeah, we should. Um… here? Or…?”

“’M not talking about this shit in the middle of the damn sidewalk,” Katsuki replied.
Kirishima gave a nervous laugh, and Katsuki resisted the urge to kiss him again. He grabbed the other man’s hand and led him back toward Maki’s. The whisky bar was busy tonight, but there was probably a booth they could claim near the back. Those ones were almost always empty.
Once inside, Katsuki led him to the back of the bar. He didn’t miss the way Maki’s eyes trailed them and the subtle smirk the other man gave them. His response was to flip the asshole off.

Classic Katsuki.
“Sit,” he said, pointing to an empty booth. “’M gonna get us some damn drinks.”

“Oh! Um, here,” and Kirishima fumbled as he pulled his wallet out. “I’ll buy!”

“Don’t gotta.”

“Naw, I want to! It’s the least I could do for running off earlier.”

He frowned.

Fuck those stupid puppy dog eyes.

Katsuki set his jaw, eyes narrowing, but gave a curt nod. “Fine.” Saved him money, anyway. Besides, the way he saw it, maybe his boss owed him a drink. Just one, though. Katsuki wasn’t a fucking charity case.
After getting a few drams of Oban ten, Katsuki returned to the booth and set them down. He slid in across from his boss and, after passing back his card, said, “Wanted to talk? So, talk.”

Kirishima laughed nervously. “You sure are blunt, aren’t you?”
“Should fuckin’ know that by now.” Still, he scowled at the tabletop. The kiss(es) had been nice, and he wanted more of them, but… shit. This was the part of relationships he /sucked/ at. He wasn’t good with communication and emotional crap.
“Look…” A soft sigh followed. “About… earlier today and what I said… I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.” He chewed his lower lip. The lip Katsuki had just kissed. The lip he wanted to kiss again.

/No. Focus, god damn it./ “So the fuck /did/ you mean, hah?”
“I meant… I meant that I wasn’t sure if I could trust you to the same extent that I trusted her.”

“Tch.” Yeah, right.
Kirishima finally held his gaze. “I trusted Shiori-kun with everything, Bakugou. I gave her access to my /house/, to everything I had except my personal accounts. And…” He shook his head. “I mean, I probably shouldn’t have.”

“No,” he agreed. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Look, personal assistants are /supposed/ to help with stuff like that, right? That’s why I hired her in the first place!” He buried his face in his hands, obviously still frustrated. “It’s part of the job description. Running errands and stuff? That’s what I /paid/ her to do.”
He wasn’t wrong. The job Katsuki had applied for included things like running personal errands if necessary, but he hadn’t figured he’d be doing much of that, since it hadn’t come up at all the first week of work.
“I would’ve paid for anything she needed,” he admitted, leaning back and frowning. At last, he shook his head. “That’s not important. What is is that I shouldn’t have said that to you, and I’m sorry. I /do/ trust you.”
Katsuki sipped his dram, enjoying the subtle malt flavor and the burn in the top of his stomach as the sip settled. It helped keep him from biting out at his boss. He was honestly still pissed about it.
At last, he set the glass down. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to forgive Kirishima just yet. Hell, he was still reeling over the damn kiss(es) and wasn’t thinking straight. Forgiving the man wasn’t on the table just yet.

Finally, he said, “Not gonna forgive you yet.”
A sigh. “That’s… fair.”

“/But/ you can make it up to me,” he said.

Kirishima blinked. “Yeah? Really?”

Damn, he sounded way too excited.

“You like me, right?”

The redhead shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah. I… uh, yeah. A lot.”

“Fine. Take me out on a date, then.”
“A date? That’s it?”

“Fuck no. A date’s just the start.” Katsuki smirked. “But if you actually want me to forgive your dumb ass, you’re gonna have to work at it.”

To his surprise, Kirishima nodded eagerly. “Yeah! I totally will!” He clenched his hand into a fist.
“One more thing,” he said. “’M a goddamn professional, got it? None of this shit touches my job.”

“Makes sense to me.” And there was that blinding smile again.

“Oi, I’m serious. If you can’t keep it separate, I ain’t gonna work for you anymore.”
“I get it. Besides, it would be a shame to lose you as an employee,” his boss said. He leaned forward, smile dipping into something more sensual. “I like seeing you at work.”

Katsuki glared, but his heartbeat spiked. /He likes seeing me at work./
Why the hell did it feel so good hearing that?

Kirishima reached across the table for his hand, but he seemed almost hesitant when he spoke. “Can… I ask you something?”
Reluctantly, Katsuki took the offered hand. The other man’s fingers wrapped around his, and his thumb rubbed over the back of Katsuki’s knuckles, making his spine tingle a little. “Whatever.”
“Just don’t judge me, okay?”

“I’ll judge you if I fucking please.”

His boss snorted. “Fine. But… don’t… get mad.”

“No promises. Especially if you’re into weird shit.”
“N-no! It’s not like that at all! But…” Again with the lower lip. Shit, at this rate, Katsuki was gonna dive across the table and kiss him just to get him to stop biting the damn thing. “Look, I wanna date you. I do. But I wanna… also…”
“Just fucking spit it out already!”

More hesitation, then, “Where, um… where do you wanna go? On our date?”

/What the fuck?/ “That wasn’t what you were gonna ask.”
Kirishima just gave a wobbly smile. “Ah, um… do you like… traditional Japanese cuisine? Or—or something a little different?”

Katsuki scowled. /What the hell was he gonna ask me?/ “I like spicy food.”

“Oh! Then I know just the place!”
“The fuck were you /actually/ gonna ask me?”

The redhead beamed and squeezed his hand. “If the date goes well, I’ll ask you then, okay?”

That seemed like a fucking cop-out to him. “Not exactly makin’ me feel better about the whole leery shit, you know.”
“I… I know. Look, I just… I’ll ask you if the date goes well, okay?”

He grunted, but pulled his hand away from Kirishima’s under the pretense of sipping more whisky. “Whatever.”
“You free Sunday night?”

And damn it, he was. “Yeah.”

“Great! I’ll pick you up at seven. Sound good?”


“Don’t sound so excited!” But there he was, not discouraged by Katsuki’s attitude in the least. “It’ll be fun!”
“Better be.”

A warm laugh, and Kirishima said, “That’s the spirit!”

And if Katsuki kissed those laughing lips one more time before he headed home, well. It was no one’s business but his and Kirishima’s.
Saturday afternoon, Katsuki was sitting in his apartment in his boxer-briefs and a tee-shirt, trying to ignore the fact that he had a date with his /boss/ in roughly twenty-nine hours. He’d gone through his wardrobe a few times, but had no fucking idea what to wear.
Hell, he didn’t even know how fancy of a restaurant Kirishima was taking him to. All he knew was that it was “the perfect place”.

/If it’s really all that perfect, I could wear a tee-shirt and cargo shorts and be fine./
Katsuki slouched further into his couch, grumpy, and pulled a blanket down around himself. He needed help figuring all this shit out, but like fuck was he gonna ask for it. Bakugou Katsuki didn’t /ask/ for help with something as stupid as wardrobe problems.
His phone’s text notification sounded.

|Camie| [14:02:22]: BAEEEEE~ U up 4 drinks or wat??

/Leave it to her to be practically psychic…/

|Me| [14:03:03]: U do owe me

|Camie| [14:03:32]: Don’t b rude, duck

|Camie| [14:03:35]: **duck
|Camie| [14:03:39]: DICK!*** FUCK U AUTOCORRECT

He snorted, which was about as close to a full-on laugh as he got.

|Camie| [14:03:57]: DRINKS BITCH. B @ MAKI’S IN 5.
Katsuki sighed and heaved himself off of the couch. Two o’clock was a little early to get drunk, even for him, but he wasn’t one to question his best—and pretty much only—friend. He could use the distraction, anyway.
So he tossed on a clean(ish) pair of jeans, slipped his feet into his loafers, and headed out.

By the time he got there—well within that 5-minute limit—Camie was already at the bar, an empty glass in front of her.

“Heeeeyooo!” she sang, waving at him.
Unsurprisingly, the bar was pretty much dead this time of day. Not many people got drunk Saturday at two.

Katsuki took the barstool beside her and said, “Two’s a little early, idiot.”
“Oh, bae! We’re just having a little fun!” She pouted. “Last night’s patrol was rough, and I need something to unwind. Just give me this, okay?”
/Rough night? You’re telling me,/ he thought, eying the booth where he and Kirishima had been sitting the night before. His stomach clenched at the thought of his upcoming date. He’d barely slept the night before, too, which didn’t help matters.
Between masturbating until his dick felt like it was gonna fall off and being a nervous wreck, he was exhausted today and in no damn mood.

“So!” she said, sipping the drink Maki had poured for her. “What’s up? Did you go out last night?”
He snorted and lifted his Ardbeg. Maki probably knew he needed the comfort of his favorite whisky after everything that had happened. Even if he hadn’t heard them talking, he had to at least /suspect/ something was up. “Yeah.”

“Where the fuck do you think?” he snapped.

She laughed and nudged him. “Came out here, huh? Well, can’t say I blame you! Guess we coulda gone somewhere else today, though…”
“Hey,” Maki said, pointing at them, “don’t you dare. You two are my best customers. You keep me in business.”
Katsuki sipped his dram, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the statement. He and Camie were /far/ from his best customers. They typically hit this place up /maybe/ once a week. Usually less. Katsuki hadn’t been lying when he’d told Kirishima that he didn’t go out much.
Today and yesterday were just… flukes.

“Besides,” Maki continued, smirking as he scrubbed the dust off of a few bottles on the shelves, “you bring all of the interesting customers. Right, kid?”
Camie turned to him, looking confused. “Interesting customers?”

“For fuck’s sake, Maki,” snapped Katsuki. “Keep your damn mouth shut.”
“Red Riot was in here last night,” the bartender said, completely ignoring Katsuki. His smile grew. “Came right over and sat next to Ardbeg here.”

Katsuki flipped him off. “I have a fucking /name/, dick.”

“And I’ll be he was shouting it all night long!”
Katsuki tried to launch over the counter to grab at the other man, but the bartender just laughed and twisted away from his grasp.
Camie’s eyes widened, and she grabbed Katsuki’s arm, yanking him back onto his seat. “Wait, wait, wait. Red Riot was /here/? Last night? What happened?”

“None of your fucking business,” he replied, slamming the rest of the Ardbeg and trying to storm away.
She yelped and raced after him. “No! No way! You /have/ to tell me! Please?”

“No! Fuck off!”

“Pretty sure they kissed!” Maki called helpfully from the bar.


Camie grabbed him and stopped him from murdering the bartender. Fucking /barely/. She coaxed him back to the bar and ordered another drink for both of them.

“Tell. Me. /Everything./”


“Tell me, or you’re buying.”

“FUCK YOU.” Bitch knew he was broke as fuck.
“Bakubroooo,” she whined, pawing at him. “/Please?/ Please tell me what happened! Did you really kiss him? Huh?”

He scowled and reached for the newest dram, but Camie yanked it away. “I’ll illusion your ass if you don’t tell me right now, Katsuki!”
He froze. Camie /never/ used that tone of voice with him. With villains or other extras, sure, but never with him. She was usually so bubbly and cheery, so light-hearted and sweet. This was totally unlike her.
But Katsuki wasn’t one to be deterred by a fucking change in voice. He snapped, “Like you’d ever dare.”

“Bet!” she said, eyes narrowing. “Tell me /right now/, Bakugou.”

“Fucking—/fine/, you dumb bitch. Give me my damn drink, and I’ll fucking tell you.”
And, well… true to his word, Katsuki told her. To be honest, it was sort of nice talking about it with someone. He kind of maybe needed it. He left a few things out, though—mainly that they were planning to see each other again tomorrow night.
He wasn’t really ready to talk about how he had a damn date with his boss. Even he wasn’t sure how to process that.

A pro hero like Red Riot actually wanted /him/—worthless, quirkless Katsuki.

While talking they enjoyed another few drinks. Katsuki lost count at some point.
“And, yeah, we fuckin’ kissed,” he groused, sneering at Maki. His cheeks felt red and he was a little warmer than usual.
He slouched back in his seat as the bartender poured another dram. The alcohol had hit him pretty hard. Maybe because he hadn’t eaten much since last night. Or maybe because, you know, it was /alcohol/.

“On the house,” he said with a cheery wink as he pushed the dram over.
Katsuki gave him two middle fingers as a tip.

“You… you /kissed/ Red Riot? Like actually /kissed/ him?” Camie asked, leaning closer, eyes wide. It was like the dumb bitch couldn’t put two and two together or some shit.
“Three times,” he muttered, words slurring a bit more now that he’d had a few drinks. He held up three fingers and wiggled them. /One, two, three./ He secretly wished it’d been more.



“Awww. That’s a shame.”

“Shut the fuck up.”
Camie beamed at him and tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “That’s so cute, though! Chaste kisses! Are you seeing him again?”
And there it was. The one bit of information Katsuki had purposefully left out. Somehow, Camie had a damn nose for this bullshit. It was like she could smell a damn half-truth a mile away.
/Fucking… god damn it./ He was either too drunk to lie or just didn’t give a shit anymore. Probably the latter (it was honestly a bit of both). “… fucking… yeah.”
She gasped and clapped her hands. “Bakugooooou! I’m so /proud/ of you! Catching a big, sturdy mans! When are you seeing him again?”

/Ain’t caught anything yet./ “Tomorrow night.”
He /could/ have just said Monday, but… he was drunk enough not to care at this point. Besides, he knew he needed help. Specifically, he needed Camie’s help. He didn’t want to ask for it, but shit, he knew he couldn’t show up to their date in cargo pants and a tee-shirt.
Even if they were just going to a roadside ramen shop, being dressed like that wouldn’t do him any fucking favors.

/How the hell did I get myself into this mess?/

“He’s takin’ me on a date. Dunno where.” Katsuki burped.
She waved a hand in front of her face and wrinkled her nose. “Gross! You better not act like this tomorrow night.”

He flipped her the bird.

She sighed. “Tell me you /at least/ know what you’re gonna wear?”

“Not a fuckin’ clue.”
“Seriously?” Camie slouched back and swiveled the stool a little as she thought.
Maki moved to pour another few drams, but she held her hand up to stop him.

“Do you /think/ I want a drunk idiot on my hands today, Maki?”

“Babe,” he replied and laughed.
Camie scowled, then her brow smoothed out. She snapped her fingers, like she’d just gotten an idea. “I’ve got it, fam!” She grabbed his arm and grinned. “Shopping! We’re gonna get you new clothes, babe!”
He glared. “Fuck. You.” He couldn’t /afford/ new clothes, anyway.

“Come on. Pleeeease? Everything you have is so…” She gestured around, as if searching for the right word, then settled on a blunt and honest, “/horrible/! You want him to give you dick, right?”
“Shut up!” Heat rushed into his cheeks and down his neck.

“Well, do you?”

He yanked his arm from her. “I’m not a goddamn bottom, you dumb bitch!”
“Oh, fam, please. You’re the /definition/ of a brat bottom. I bet that’s why he’s so into you.” She dove into his pocket and pulled his phone out.

She shoved the phone into his hands. “Text him and ask where you’re going! Then we’ll know what to dress you in!”
“No!” Besides, he wasn’t sure /texting his boss/ about their /date/ was the best idea right now. Text messages leaked, right? And if this shit got out, then people might begin to question what sort of boss Kirishima was.
Camie pouted and leaned back, crossing her arms over her stomach. “We need to know how up-scale it’s gonna be!”

“We fucking /don’t/,” he replied. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and pulled his wallet out.
“Oh, no way. I know you’re broke until, like, Friday, buster.” She shoved his hand away and paid before he could even consider it. “You can buy the next two rounds. Come on. We’ve gotta date to save!”
Katsuki rolled his eyes, but followed her out of Maki’s and toward the train station. At least it was Camie. If anyone else had tried to pull this shit with him, he’d’ve kicked their asses, even quirkless.


Read about Katsuki and Camie going shopping or skip to the date?
Sunday came far too quickly, and by seven o’clock that night, Katsuki had showered, styled his hair, and was pulling on his new clothes. Kirishima had texted asking for his address a few hours ago, and Katsuki had responded saying that he wanted to just meet at the restaurant.
Luckily, his boss had been fine with that.

Unluckily, Katsuki was running /really/ late.

He was supposed to be at the restaurant by 7:30, but it was halfway across town. There was no way he was going to make it on time.
/Hopefully he doesn’t care if I’m late,/ he thought as he yanked on the fitted light charcoal gray skinny jeans he and Camie had bought. Normally, Katsuki preferred baggier clothes, but she had /insisted/ that these jeans were the way to go.
“They show off that plump little ass of yours,” she’d said with her trademark smirk. “Gotta make sure he sees your /ass/ets, you know!”

“Not funny,” he’d growled out.
As he looped a thick white belt through the holes, he twisted his body to take a look at the damage.

The jeans /did/ emphasize his ass and the curve of his thighs, so… okay, fucking /fine/. They looked good on him.
Flustered, Katsuki cursed and grabbed the long-sleeved black V-neck Camie had insisted she buy for him. It wasn’t quite cold enough for a jacket, but not yet warm enough for shorter sleeves. The shirt was a good compromise for this time of the year.
It was formal enough to work in most situations and informal enough not to make him look overdressed.

Once he was dressed, Katsuki examined himself one last time.
“You should put on some eyeliner,” she’d suggested, grabbing her favorite brand and tossing it into the shopping cart, along with other things, like highlighter and lip balm.
Katsuki didn’t have time for any goddamn makeup, so he ignored the eyeliner and other shit she’d bought him. He didn’t need it, anyway.
/Not like Kirishima’s gonna fuck me tonight, anyway,/ he thought as he grabbed his keys and cellphone. /No need to put that shit on my face./

Maybe next time.
He yanked on a pair of black loafers and practically ran from his apartment to catch the next train. It was leaving in just a few minutes, but if he ran, he might make it.
Down the street, around the corner, up the set of metal stairs. There it was. The train was still at the stop, but the doors were sliding shut.

Katsuki booked it.
/This is barely our first date. Can’t believe I’m gonna be fucking late. God damn it./ He slipped through the doors of the train just as they were closing.
Panting, he wiped his hand over his face. It came away sweaty, and he cursed. At least he hadn’t worn any makeup and had some time before his stop. Just enough to cool down and—

Katsuki’s shoulders tensed. /No. No, no, no, NO./ He turned around, eyes wide. Intrepid, better known to Katsuki as his childhood friend Deku, was sitting on one of the padded benches.
He was dressed in a white tee-shirt and a pair of old jeans. The fucker still wore obnoxiously red shoes, though the ones he had on were fairly new. He waved and grinned.

“Fuck off, Deku,” Katsuki snapped.
“I thought that was you! Almost didn’t recognize you in those jeans, though. You look good!”

He turned and started to walk away. He really, really didn’t want to deal with this shit right now. He had a goddamn date to get to, and—

“Kacchan! Wait!”
A scarred hand landed on his shoulder, and Katsuki spun around to snap at him, but stopped when he saw a bunch of people staring.

/Shit. Shit, that’s right. He’s the number-five hero now. People are gonna recognize him./
Some of the people watching them had their phones out, no doubt recording the interaction.
/And I’m Red Riot’s new personal assistant. Shit./ His boss was already all over the news. Now wasn’t the time to make things worse with a bad encounter with Intrepid. Katsuki’s gaze flicked back to the green-haired man. “What the fuck do you want, Deku?” he growled, voice low.
“To talk! What stop are you getting off at?”

The other man beamed. “I’m B-17. Let’s sit together and chat. I haven’t gotten a chance to catch up with you, and you never did reply to my last text… which, Kacchan, you left me on read. That’s not very polite. I was just saying that I thought Red Riot might be—”
Katsuki slapped his hand over the other man’s mouth. “One, shut the /fuck/ up, nerd,” he hissed, “and two, fine, I’ll fucking sit with you, but not in here.” His gaze darted to the people recording them, and he pulled his hand away, nodding toward the next car.
Deku beamed and followed him through the doors. They found a spot near the back of the car. It was fairly empty at this time of night, which was lucky, he supposed.

Katsuki took the window seat, and Deku sat next to the aisle, since his stop was first.
The pro hero leaned closer and said, “Sorry, Kacchan. I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

“Not embarrassing /me/, dumbass. Think before you start muttering nonsense,” he replied coolly. “Red’s going through some shit now, and I don’t wanna tack more crap on top of it.”
Deku frowned, then nodded. “Because of the embezz—”

“The fuck did I /just/ say?”

“Oh, right. Sorry, Kacchan.”
He wasn’t a bad person; Katsuki knew that. But sometimes, Deku’s absentmindedness could be a real pain in the ass. The /last/ thing he wanted was for the other man to start talking about stuff like that on the way to his damn date with Kirishima.
“So, where are you headed? You look nice.”



“Don’t fucking /Kacchan/ me, asswipe,” he snapped.
Deku frowned, but it was sort of the cute frown he gave when he wasn’t being serious. The one where his freckled cheeks would puff out a little and his eyes would narrow in thought.

Katsuki scowled and turned away. “Got a date.”
“A date? Kacchan! That’s… that’s…” His voice trailed off, and he gazed out into the distance, brows knitting. “Unexpected.”

“Fuck you!”
“N-no! I don’t mean… not in a /bad/ way, of course!” Deku held his scarred hands up and waved them, obviously nervous that he’d said something to set Katsuki off.
Which, well, he /had/, but it hadn’t been intended to be mean. Katsuki was just on edge. A date—shit, he hadn’t gone on a date in a while, and he actually kind of really liked Kirishima. He didn’t wanna fuck things up.
“It’s just… surprising? I thought you weren’t gonna date anyone for a while.”

“Yeah, well. Shit changes.”

Deku cocked his head to the side. “You know, he still talks about you. Asked me how you were doing, and—”
“/Not/ fucking helping.”

For a few seconds, the other man just twiddled with his thumbs. Then, softly, “Can I ask who it’s with?”


“Is it with… /him/?”

“No fucking clue who you mean, nerd.” But he /did/ know. He knew that Deku was alluding to Red Riot.
Deku nodded, as if Katsuki had actually answered the question. “I hope it goes well. You deserve happiness, Kacchan.”

“Fuck off.” But there was no bite to the words.
Stop B-16 came up. They hadn’t been talking long, it felt like, but the awkward pauses between words ate up a lot of time. When the train slowed for stop B-17, Deku stood.

“I’m serious, Kacchan. I hope he treats you well. If he doesn’t, I’ll—”
“Do nothing about it,” he said, voice bitter. “’S /my/ life, asshole. Not yours.” Katsuki turned away, leaning closer to the window. “Don’t need you to fucking save me if a damn date doesn’t go well.”

“…right. Well, have a good time tonight, Kacchan.”

“Text me, okay?”

He flipped the nerd off, and Deku gave a soft laugh.

“See you around.”

He left, and the second he stepped onto the platform, people were taking photos and talking and pointing.
The life of a pro hero.

Katsuki scowled and turned away.

The life he’d wanted, but could never fucking have.
The next few stops whipped by, and before he knew it, he was exiting the train at stop B-23. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his too-tight jeans, silently cursing Camie for talking him into them.
It was already 7:33. He was officially late, and the restaurant was a good ten-minute walk from the station.

He debated running, but opted not to. Instead, he kept his gaze glued to the sidewalk as he strode toward the address Kirishima had sent him.
About a block from the restaurant, he stopped and just glared at the sidewalk.

“The fuck am I doing?” he muttered.
Why the hell was he going out with his /boss/? What the fuck was /wrong/ with him? Katsuki stared down the street at the restaurant. Yellow light bathed the sidewalk, and he could almost smell the food. His stomach groaned with hunger.
Red Riot was dealing with a lot of shit right now, and worse than that, he was more than a decade older than Katsuki. So, what the /fuck/ was he doing here? Why had he agreed to this?
/’S not like me dating him would ruin his reputation or anything,/ he thought as his feet picked up again. /We’re both adults./

That wasn’t what could destroy Red Riot, though.
No, it was the fact that Katsuki was his /personal assistant/ that could undo the hero. Workplace romances weren’t strictly uncommon among heroes, but they weren’t exactly welcome. And to top things off, it wasn’t just a normal /romance/. They were /gay/.
Being gay wasn’t ultimately a sin in the public’s eye anymore—lots of pro heroes were—but it wouldn’t help matters. The combination of factors could be very, very bad for Red Riot. Katsuki was a /lot/ younger than him, worked for him, and was a man.
/Shit. Stop it. You’re gonna talk yourself outta this if you don’t./

He stopped in front of the door, hesitating. A lot could go wrong.

But a lot could also go /right/.

He reached forward and tugged the door open.
He stepped inside, the wash of people chatting hitting him alongside a number of rich, fragrant smells. The host eyed him quietly, though he didn’t look like he was all that interested in helping Katsuki find a table.

The place was pretty upscale, from the looks of it.
When Katsuki didn’t speak, the host asked, “Do you have a reservation?”

He inhaled sharply. /Guess I’m really doing this, then./ “Kirishima.”
The host frowned, but scanned the list. He nodded and said, “Ah, party of two. Your companion has already arrived. Follow me."
They waded around tables and booths filled with chatting patrons, across the restaurant and toward a back hallway with numerous shoji that led into smaller, private rooms.
It seemed the restaurant was a mix of East and West dining experiences; the front of the house was all booths and tables draped with cream tablecloths and shiny silverware, but the back had a few private rooms with chabudai and pillowed seating.
The host led him to a private room near the end of the hall and slid the door open. Inside was a chabudai surrounded by blue and white ocean-themed pillows.

Red Riot was sitting inside, looking bored and… sad.

Katsuki’s heart immediately stung. /Shit./
He looked up at the sound of the door opening, his eyes widening in surprise.

“You came,” he said, almost sounding awestruck.
“Thanks,” Katsuki said to the host, and he slipped his shoes off before entering the private room. The door closed smoothly behind him. “Yeah. Sorry. Was running late.”
Kirishima beamed, and Katsuki immediately felt even shittier for not texting the other man. “It’s all right! I’m just glad you decided to show.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Oh, um…” He just laughed and waved the question away. “Doesn’t matter.” Kirishima scooted aside, as if the table didn’t have enough room for both of them. “I—I waited to order, so the waiter should be back in a little bit. C’mon, sit!”
Katsuki sank down onto a pillow as Kirishima pushed a menu toward him.

“You look really, really good, by the way.” The redhead grinned.
“Thanks.” He glanced at his boss, who was wearing a dark red button-down shirt and a pair of slacks. The shirt was a bit tight on him, showing the dip of his muscles. His hair was down and pulled into a low ponytail, a few silky red strands framing his face. Shit.
Shit. He was /way/ underdressed. “So do you.”

And he really did. Katsuki sort of wanted to shove him to the ground and kiss him. He yearned to run his hands up and down Kirishima’s tight body, to feel his chest and stomach and sides, to—
Kirishima cocked his head to the side. “You okay? If… if this makes you uncomfortable, you don’t have to stay. I’ll understand.”

“No,” he said, blinking out of his lust-filled fantasy and leaning his elbows against the tabletop. “Just… a lot on my mind.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
He shook his head and pulled the menu closer. “No.” Damn. He needed to change the subject, needed to hide his lewd thoughts from his boss. He still felt some underlying melancholy from Deku mentioning his ex, too, which didn’t help. “Why’d you get a private room?”
“Oh! I thought it would be more comfortable. Plus, um, didn’t really want people watching us? You know, in case you decide you don’t wanna go out again or something. No reason your face should be plastered on all the tabloids, you know?”
The way he talked was… oof. “Don’t assume so much.”

Kirishima gave an awkward smile. “I just wanna make sure you’re comfortable.”

Katsuki shoved the menu away and said, “’M fine.” /Gotta keep this from getting awkward./ “So. What’d you do today?”
“I was in the office most of the day,” he admitted, and then he tugged at the top of his shirt. “I, uh, actually came directly from a meeting with some of our investors. They’re… not happy.” An awkward laugh.
“I bet.”

“It’s a mess,” he said, smile falling and brow creasing. “Everyone wants to know if their accounts were affected, but I haven’t—”
Katsuki held up his hand, interrupting his boss. “You probably shouldn’t talk about that shit here.”

“Oh. Yeah, I—I guess. Since this is a date and all… sorry.”
He rolled his eyes. “Not ’cause of that,” and he bit back tacking /idiot/ on. “You’re a loud guy. No idea who’s listening in and what they’d leak to the press.”
Kirishima’s ruby eyes widened, and he nodded enthusiastically. “Right! I forgot.” When he laughed, it was more genuine and relaxed. “Thanks, man.”

The door slid open, and the waiter came to take their orders. Katsuki put in for an order of tantanmen and an order of kyuri bainikuae. The sourness of the plum sauce would help offset the spice of his main dish, and Kirishima didn’t seem to mind.
His date asked for an order of tonkatsu and an order of kabayaki. The waiter left after refilling their hot tea.

“No beer?” asked Katsuki, curious.
Kirishima shook his head. “I’m used to getting calls at all hours asking me to help out with villains. I don’t drink very often. The other night was kind of a rarity. Because you were there, I guess, and we were talking. Even if I’d gotten a call, I wouldn’t have left.”
That was… kind of a relief. And in more ways than one.

“You want some? They have good sake here, too, if I remember correctly.”
“Nah. Not in the mood to drink.” Especially not after Camie and he had gone a little crazy the day before. His head didn’t hurt or anything—he was only twenty, after all—but he wasn’t in the mood for more liquor right now.
A few long seconds ticked by, and then Kirishima leaned forward, reaching out and resting his hand on top of Katsuki’s. It was warm, comforting.

“Bakugou, if you don’t wanna be here, that’s fine. I completely understand.”
Katsuki scowled at him. “Shut up.”


“’Course I wanna be here. Wouldn’t’ve come if I didn’t.”

Katsuki rotated his hand so that his fingers slipped between Kirishima’s. /His hand is so damn big./ And callouses dotted the underside, rough, but somehow… nice. His mind was already running to all of the places he wanted those hands. “I don’t do anything I don’t want.”
Kirishima smiled. “Good.”

“Oi, you were gonna ask me something Friday night. What was it?”

The redhead laughed. “At the end of the night, okay?”

“’S not fair makin’ me wait two goddamn days. Just ask.”
Kirishima scooted a little closer, but looked a little flustered. “Let’s talk about something else. Like where you bought those jeans, because /damn/.”

Okay, /now/ he was fucking curious. “Hell no. You gotta keep your damn promise.”

“Bakugou…” But he sounded... cute, not upset
He glowered and pulled his hand away. If Kirishima couldn’t even ask him a goddamn question, couldn’t even keep that simply of a stupid promise, then he—
“Okay, okay! Fine! Just… just… don’t get mad, okay?”

“Then just fuckin’ ask!”
Kirishima blurted, “B-bemysugarbaby!”

He spoke so fast that, at first, Katsuki’s mind didn’t process what the redhead had just said. “Hah?”
Kirishima cleared his throat, eyes dropping to the table, shielded by long black lashes. Red blushed over his cheeks. “My, uh… Would you… consider… b-being my sugar baby? Please?”

Kirishima shuffled awkwardly. “Sugar… baby… it’s a thing? And… and I really want you to be mine.”

“I know what it fucking is!” Katsuki shouted.

“Shh! Keep it down, will you? I don’t want the whole restaurant to know!”
He buried his face in his hands and curled forward, trying to hide his reaction. Mostly, because he didn’t know quite how he felt. Sugar baby. His boss wanted him to be his /sugar baby/.

Fucking /hell/.
“You… you okay, man?”

Katsuki gave a frustrated groan. “I don’t need any goddamn handouts!”
Kirishima’s already ruddy cheeks darkened. “That—that’s not what this is. Look… I get that. Um… it’s… I feel pleasure when I buy things for other people. But… I kind of only want to buy things for /one/ person? And… and it’s… sexual for me. I…”
When Katsuki just gawked at him, Kirishima shook his head, looking embarrassed and distraught.

“It’s cool if you’re not interested, really!” He was trying to sound chipper, but it wasn’t working; fucker was all but panicking.
He took in a deep breath and continued, “I don’t want to make it awkward. This is kind of why I wanted to wait to talk about it? It’s… um… look, it’s fine. We can just date? Or—or if you don’t want that… whatever you want is fine with me.”
Shit, he sounded fucking /depressed/.

Katsuki slumped forward until his forehead slammed into the table. He gave a frustrated growl. “’S not that.”

“Then what…?”

He rolled his head to the side and held Kirishima’s gaze. “This isn’t about giving me handouts, right?”
“No, not at all. I just… /really/ like the idea of spoiling you. It’s…” He sighed, gaze going cloudy. “It’s a major turn on for me. I know you make enough to do fine on your own, and if it ever becomes too much, I’m happy to reel back. I just want you to be comfortable.”
Katsuki sat up again and frowned down at his tea in silence for a few long seconds, thinking. This was a lot to take in. Dating, fine. He could deal with that. And it wasn’t like he /hated/ the idea of being a sugar baby.
Hell, he sort of… liked it. But he didn’t want this to be about pity.

/Idiot,/ he scolded himself. /He just said it wasn’t./

If it was about sexual gratification, like Kirishima said, then…
Before he could delve further into his thoughts, the door slid open and the waiter walked in with their food. He set the bowl of tantanmen down and set out the platters of Kirishima’s dishes, followed by the order of kyuri bainikuae for Katsuki.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” asked the waiter.

“No,” Katsuki said, voice low.

“Thank you,” Kirishima tacked on with a bright smile.

The waiter bowed and left, sliding the shoji shut behind him.
Katsuki lifted his chopsticks and poked at the bowl of spicy tantanmen. His appetite had faded a little. Between his talk with Deku on the train and finding out that Kirishima wanted him to be his sugar baby, he wasn’t really sure how he felt.
Hunger wasn’t really his top priority anymore.

Kirishima didn’t push the subject. It was obvious, though, that he thought he’d made a mistake by asking. The redhead kept shifting uncomfortably and glancing nervously at Katsuki.
So, to diffuse the tension, Katsuki said, “What would being your sugar baby entail?” Hell, he needed to know, anyway.
“Oh, um. I’d buy you anything you want—and some things that I want you to have. Clothes and stuff.” He smiled. “Gifts. Little things. I know you’re a pretty independent person, but…”
He set his chopsticks down and dug into his pocket before pulling out a red leather billfold. He withdrew a black credit card and set it down on the table between them with a soft /click/.
“I’d prefer if you use this for any purchases you make. I’ll be able to keep track of finances pretty easily, but if you want to take pictures of the receipts when you use my card, that would be helpful. Just text them to me by the twentieth of the month.”
He slid the card to Katsuki. “You don’t /have/ to use it, but it would make me feel good, knowing I could provide for you.” He beamed.

Katsuki hesitated before picking the card up and looking it over. “Has your name on it.”
Kirishima nodded and tucked his billfold away. “I’m happy to get you one with your name on it, if you want. I kind of like the idea of you using this one, though, and buying things under my name.”
He still held the card, frowning down at it and refusing to meet his boss’s eyes. “What’s the limit?” In his mind, he was thinking he’d be limited to maybe a hundred thousand yen per month. Maybe half that.
Not that he was looking to exceed that limit or take as much as he could. It was just… knowing a hard limit would be helpful.
“No limit,” Kirishima replied softly. “Well, I mean… don’t go crazy? If you want to make purchases for anything really big, like a sports car or something, just check with me first. Otherwise, there isn’t really a specific limit.”
“And you trust me with this?” he asked, wiggling the card and finally looking up into brilliant red eyes. “After all the shit that happened with Takaiyo?”
He nodded. “This is tied to my personal accounts. It has nothing to do with work finances, and I’m giving you permission to buy whatever you want. Hell, use it to pay rent, if you like.” He licked his lips at that. “Though I’d rather buy you a nice condo than make you stay in +
an apartment…”
He honestly didn’t really know what to say to that. Part of him was more than a little uncertain of the circumstances. In the end, he opted not to discuss his living situation. “So… is this, like… you pay me for sex, or what?”
Kirishima’s eyes widened. “N-no! Not at all. I get sexual gratification from treating you and buying you things, but you’re in no way obligated to have sex with me.” He laughed nervously. “My hands work just fine in that department.”
Katsuki glanced at him. “/Would/ you have sex with me if I wanted?”
Another shaky chuckle. “Yeah? I mean… of course I would. But don’t feel obligated.” He reached out and rested his hand over Katsuki’s. “We can go as slow or fast as you want. For now, I’m just happy to buy things for you and go on dates.”
He thumbed the edge of the credit card. It felt weightier than any of the cards he had. /Titan Class Card/ was scrawled across the front in silver. Finally, he pulled out his own wallet and slid the card into a slot. “As long as it doesn’t carry over to the office.”
Kirishima nodded and relaxed. “I promise, it won’t. If you feel like I’m being inappropriate at work, tell me. I want to emphasize open and honest communication, okay? Come to me with any problems you have, and I’ll do everything in my power to fix them.”
“Don’t need you to /rescue/ me,” he snapped. “’M not some princess in distress for you to save.”
“I know!” And he laughed, warm and full. “That’s not what I meant, but I understand.” He squeezed Katsuki’s hand. “I really like you, Bakugou, and I hope that you’ll keep being honest with me if I overstep my boundaries. I want this to work between us. Really, I do.”
Katsuki looked at their joined hands in silence, his stomach tight and nervous. “Yeah.”
It still hadn’t really hit that this was happening. That they were together and that Kirishima was his… his sugar daddy. If he thought about it too long or too hard, his stomach would get all twisty, and he felt queasy. So he pushed the thoughts away.
Finally, he asked, “What about shit in public? You’re a pro hero, and it won’t take much for people to learn that I work for you.”

The other man hummed lightly and shifted so he was closer to Katsuki. “I don’t care if people know that we’re together.”
“It could affect your career.”

Kirishima cocked his head to the side. “Oh? How so?”

“I’m younger than you,” he said, “and I’m your assistant. And we’re gay. Seems like a lot could go wrong if people find out that we’re… together.” He frowned at that.
“Being gay isn’t a crime,” said Kirishima with a grin. “And you’re not /that/ much younger than me. It’s not like you’re still in high school. You’re an adult, and you can make your own choices. As for being my assistant…”
He shrugged. “I mean, people thought something was going on with me and Takaiyo.”
Katsuki balked. “Hah?”

“They were /wrong/, of course,” and he chuckled. “I’m very, /very/ gay.” He winked. “But people still speculated, and the tabloids still had a field day spreading rumors about the stupidest things.”
That wasn’t surprising. Katsuki hadn’t really paid much attention to tabloid articles that covered Red Riot before now, but it made sense that the slimy media would try just about anything to get a damn sale.
Kirishima released his hand at last to eat his meal before it got cold. Between bites, he said, “We can keep it on the down-low for as long as you want. It won’t bother me. I just wanna be with you and want you to be happy.”
Katsuki began eating. The food was good—just spicy enough to have a kick, but not so spicy that it overwhelmed the flavor of the actual broth and noodles. “Yeah, got that.” He slurped some noodles and chewed before adding, “’D prefer to keep it quiet for now.”
“Sounds good to me! I do wanna take you shopping at some point, though.” The redhead looked thoughtful. “I like those pants on you, but you usually wear looser stuff around the office. Maybe I could get you another pair in a different color?”
Heat surged into Katsuki’s cheeks. “You pay that much attention to what I wear?”

“Well, yeah.” He turned away, trying to hide his own blush. “Look, it’s not like /that/. I just… you have good fashion sense. I like to see what you wear. So… so I know what styles you like.”
Katsuki snorted and rolled his eyes. He leaned against the chabudai and popped a kyuri bainikuae into his mouth, chewing slowly. The sour plum sauce was refreshing after the spice of the tantanmen. “That’s utter bullshit, and you know it.”
“It’s not! I like how you dress.”

“Hah? So should I not wear these again?” He gestured at the jeans.

“No! I mean, yes, absolutely wear them again.” Those hooded red eyes drifted down his body. “Maybe not to work, but… I wouldn’t complain. Just wish I’d bought them for you.”
Katsuki cracked a sharp grin. “Fine. I’ll bill you for the next pair.”

“Oh, I hope so.” His voice was low and smooth, and he reached out to run a hand across Katsuki’s thigh, fingers bumping over the small folds in the fabric between his hip and thigh.
The heated touch sent a thrill shooting up to Katsuki’s groin, and Kirishima shifted closer, until his steamy breath brushed across Katsuki’s neck.

“I’d like to see you in clothes I buy for you.”
Katsuki tilted his head and smirked as he brushed his lips across Kirishima’s. The motion was a little teasing, a little tempting. It wasn’t meant to be a true kiss—not yet, though he was thinking about it.

“Oh yeah?”
A soft rumbling hum. Kirishima tilted his head, leaning closer—

Then the shoji slid open, and the redhead pulled away.
Katsuki wanted to smack the damn waiter for intruding. /Asshole,/ he thought, glowering as the waiter collected their empty plates and bowls. /We were just about to get to the good part./
“Would you like anything else this evening?” he asked.

Kirishima glanced at Katsuki before pulling his wallet out to pay. “Just to close out, please.”

The waiter took his card and left after a deep bow.

Katsuki snorted. “Asshole has the worst timing.”
Kirishima smirked and threaded his fingers through Katsuki’s. “Maybe we should go somewhere more private, then.”

“Hah? Like where?” He wasn’t dumb; he suspected what Kirishima meant, but playing coy sounded more fun than just going with the flow.
The redhead leaned close again and lightly kissed Katsuki’s neck. “My place…? We could watch a movie, if you want…” Every word sent his lips barely whispering over his skin.
“Watch a movie? Yeah, right,” he replied, giving a cocky smirk, even as gooseflesh rolled over his skin from Kirishima’s mouth. “You just wanna make out with me.”
“Am I that obvious?”

“Pfft. Duh.” Still, it didn’t sound like a horrible idea. “Fine. Your place.”
Kirishima hummed softly and pulled away when the shoji opened smoothly again and the waiter returned with his credit card and a receipt for him to sign. After tucking his card away, the redhead stood and offered a hand to Katsuki.

“Let’s go, then.”
They didn’t even get beyond the genken before Kirishima shoved Katsuki against the wall and kissed him. A hot tongue ran across Katsuki’s lower lip, and he was quick to open his mouth and loop his arms around his boyfriend’s—sugar daddy’s?—neck.
Kirishima hoisted his thighs up, lifting Katsuki from the ground and guiding his legs around his waist. He used the wall to help hold Katsuki up, the kiss deepening rapidly.
Katsuki moaned as he felt his boss’s hot body shove up against his. His hands wandered down from Kirishima’s neck to his broad shoulders and thick biceps. He squeezed, a moan somehow escaping when he felt how fucking /solid/ the other man was.
The redhead broke the kiss with a chuckle. “Like ’em?” His lips brushed over Katsuki’s as he spoke.

“Don’t be stupid,” he replied with a snort.

A low hum, then, “Good.”
Wet tongue, mouth, hot breath, sharp teeth—Katsuki didn’t even get a chance to retort with a smartass remark before Kirishima was kissing him again. Despite how sharp his teeth were, they never actually cut his mouth.
/Must’ve had a lot of practice,/ he thought, somewhat dizzy at the prospect of those same teeth going near his dick someday. /Fuck me… this is really happening, isn’t it?/
The pro hero lifted Katsuki from the wall, one thick hand wrapped halfway around Katsuki’s left thigh, the other holding him by the small of his back, and carried him into the house proper.

Honestly, he was too distracted to bother looking around.
The only thing he knew about Kirishima’s place was that it was big and it was out beyond the main city limits. He suspected his boss kept a smaller apartment closer to his agency for work during the week. The practice wasn’t uncommon among pro heroes.
He kind of hoped he’d see it someday.

Then, suddenly, he was dropped onto a couch, Kirishima following him down, still kissing him, though he’d moved to Katsuki’s jaw and started down his neck.
His teeth gently nicked the skin there, sending gooseflesh down his neck and across his chest. His nipples hardened, and he repressed a grunt.

The redhead pulled away, eyes hooded, lips curled into that perfect, seductive smile of his. “Hm? What is it, baby?”
Katsuki shivered at that, not exactly sure if he /liked/ being called “baby”. /Let it go. Don’t gotta decide that now./ “No bruises or marks, fucker. Don’t want Liberty or one of the other pros starting shit in the office.”
A slight pout. “Really? Not even on your chest?”

“Tch. Think you’re getting me shirtless tonight, you shit?”

Kirishima laughed and traced his fingers up under the front of Katsuki’s shirt. “I hoped so, but if you’re not comfortable—”
He rolled his eyes and leaned in, cutting his daddy off. “Shut up, dummy.”
“Don’t be mean, baby,” but he followed Katsuki’s orders and resumed kissing him, trailing his hot fingertips across Katsuki’s back and down his sides. He slipped both hands up Katsuki’s shirt, but kept them low, around his stomach and hips.
/Bullshit,/ he thought, grabbing one of Kirishima’s broad hands and pushing it higher, until the other man was groping his right pec.
Katsuki /knew/ he had a nice chest. It was probably his best asset, and he worked /hard/ for it. Like hell was he gonna make out with a hot hero and /not/ get groped there.
Kirishima moaned softly and pressed closer, straddling Katsuki’s lap, caging him in with thick thighs that were as big around as Katsuki’s waist.
Katsuki had thought he wasn’t much smaller than his boss. He knew he wasn’t as broad or as tall, but he wasn’t exactly /tiny/. Well, he hadn’t thought he was until he was being straddled like this. Now, he realized just how different their sizes were.
His boss was a goddamn beast of a man, and the realization that he could probably bench press Katsuki twice over made him lightheaded. /Holy shit. He DID just carry me… what else can he do to me?/
When Kirishima moved to kiss the side of his mouth and work his way down Katsuki’s jaw, Katsuki growled out, “How’d you get so fuckin’ big, anyway?”
A light chuckle. “Lotta work.” A wet kiss against his neck. “Lotta time in the gym.” Another one against the underside of his jaw. “Lotta training.” The third was pressed to the top of his collarbone. “Been working at it since junior high.”
“So, what, fifty years?” Katsuki quirked an eyebrow.

Kirishima snorted and pulled back. “So mean, baby.” Still, he seemed amused. “I’m not /that/ much older than you.”


This his expression shifted, seduction melting into concern. “Does… does it bother you? That I am?”
“Fuck no,” Katsuki quipped, pressing his palms against his daddy’s hips. The muscles under his grip tensed and relaxed, reminding him just how strong the other man actually was. “Jus’ joking around. Now either kiss me or pull up Netflix or some shit.”
The redhead smirked and leaned in, kissing him again.

/That shut him up./ He was glad Kirishima wanted to keep making out. Katsuki didn’t really want to stop. It had been a while since he’d last…
He forced the thoughts away, choosing to focus instead on Kirishima. The solidity of the other man’s body helped ground him and keep him in the moment. His grip tightened, and he rubbed his thumbs over Kirishima’s Adonis belt in slow circles.
Then, his hands wandered lower, trailing over those thick thighs. Where Kirishima could wrap one hand halfway around Katsuki’s thigh, he could barely just spread his fingers out around the curve of Kirishima’s.
They were massive, and he was beyond into it.
So into it that the heat of Kirishima’s body against his groin was doing things to him. He shifted, a little uncomfortable as his cock twitched to life. It was acting like he hadn’t masturbated furiously before leaving for dinner—he had; that was why he’d been late.
Still, it was frustrating to pop a boner /now/, of all times.
Kirishima pulled away and grinned, though it was hard to tell if it was because he’d felt Katsuki’s dick. “Hang on. I’ve actually got something for you.” He slid off of Katsuki’s lap and rushed around the back of the couch.
He exhaled, slumping against the couch and closing his eyes to try and relieve some of the tension making out had built up. Heat tingled across his face and down his neck and chest. His entire body felt like it was on fire.
Once Kirishima was out of sight, Katsuki adjusted his cock, hissing softly at the way his fingers brushed over the tip.

He was more sensitive than he’d expected.

/At least he wasn’t grinding on me,/ he thought.
True to his word, Kirishima seemed to be taking things at whatever pace Katsuki set for them.
Now that he was alone, he glanced around and took in the home. It was still dark, so he didn’t see much detail. Kirishima hadn’t even bothered to turn the lights on. Not that they really needed light to see while making out, but still. It felt… strange, sitting in the dark.
Katsuki twisted around and scanned the room. He was sitting on an enormous U-shaped couch with clean, modern lines. It was cotton instead of leather (thank god) and quite comfortable. The upholstery was a deep charcoal gray, and there were a few light gray throw pillows on it.
A glass coffee table sat in the center of the U, and the couch faced an enormous TV. Cables hooked the TV up to about a dozen different gaming consoles. Behind it were enormous windows that looked out to the dark backyard.
Behind Katsuki was an open-concept kitchen. It looked like it had granite countertops and a double-oven, though he couldn’t see much else. A formal dining set sat to his left, and to his right was a little reading nook with a chaise lounge.
Beyond the reading area was a hallway, which he assumed led to bedrooms. To his left, on the other side of the kitchen, was the set of French doors that Kirishima had gone through.

/Probably the master suite,/ he thought.
A set of stairs was pressed against the far wall beyond the dining set. One set led up, and another led down.

The house was fucking /massive/.

Katsuki shifted on the couch and frowned. “Oi. The fuck’s taking you so long?”
Kirishima laughed and trotted back into the room. “Sorry! I couldn’t decide. Um… I want you to have all of them, but you get to choose which one to wear tonight, okay?”
“Hah?” His nose wrinkled as he turned, and Kirishima held up three pairs of swim trunks. One pair was black with a red skull, another white with bold black designs, and the last one was bright orange with black geometric edging. “The fuck?”
“I have a heated pool! Oh, and a sauna… and an onsen... a hot tub… Wanna take a dip? We can use whichever one you want!” He beamed.
And shit, it might have been getting late for a Sunday night, but there was no way in hell Katsuki was gonna turn down an offer like that. Besides, he could probably sleep on the couch tonight, right? And ride into work with his… daddy.
Even if he was late, he doubted Kirishima would be too upset. He’d do his damndest not to be, of course, but…

As he stood and reached for the black trunks with the red skull and crossbones, it finally hit him.
He was dating a pro hero—one who was obviously very, /very/ wealthy. He hadn’t really fathomed how well off Kirishima actually /was/ until that moment.

“I think I got the right size. Medium, right?”

He nodded.
“Great! I, ah, have a towel for you, too! Let me go get changed.” He pointed down the hall. “There’s a bathroom down there, if you want, or you can use one of the spare bedrooms. Pick whichever one you want!”
Katsuki watched as his daddy half-jogged over to the master suite and shut the French doors behind him.
Of all things to shell-shock him, it was a fucking pair of swimming trunks.
The bedroom Katsuki chose to change in was bigger than his whole studio apartment. He looked around, still trying to figure out how he felt about the whole thing. The room was sparsely furnished—just had a queen-sized bed and a wardrobe in it.
He shook his head and stripped out of his clothes before tugging the trunks on.

They fit perfectly once he tied the black string in the front.
Once he finished changing, he left the bedroom. Kirishima was waiting for him, dressed in a pair of bright red swim trunks and holding two towels.

The redhead grinned and held a black towel out to Katsuki. “Here you go!”
It was soft—much softer than any of the ratty, decade-old towels Katsuki had at his apartment. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“C’mon! Oh, do you want anything to drink first?” Kirishima asked as he trotted down the stairs.

Katsuki followed, frowning. “No. ’M good.”
Kirishima flipped on the lights at the bottom of the stairs and motioned for Katsuki to follow him, but Katsuki stopped when he reached the landing at the bottom and gawked around.
The basement was just as large as the main level.

To his right was an open door leading into what looked like a personal gym. He peeked inside.

/Holy shit./
The gym had everything from free weights to electronic stationary bikes to treadmills and weight machines and Swiss balls and three TVs. It had wood flooring and mirrors all around the room, and he spotted a sliding glass door at the far end that led out to a patio.

Katsuki yelped and jumped. His boss was standing right next to him, peeking over his shoulder.

“Sorry,” he said with a warm chuckle. “Guess I should give you the tour, huh?”

Katsuki scowled. “This place is huge. You live here alone?”


“No pets?”
“I have a koi pond out back,” Kirishima replied. “And a bullfrog lives there. I named him Ruyp. Like… brrruuup!” He tried to mimic the sound a frog made when it ribbitted, and Katsuki just gawked.

He was gawking a lot lately.
His daddy beamed. “No dogs or cats, though. I’m not here enough to take care of them myself.”

“Could just hire someone.”

He looked thoughtful. “I guess? But I don’t really feel like it’s fair to them if I’m never here, you know?”

Katsuki nodded.
“Anyway! This is my gym!” He reached around Katsuki and flipped the light on. “Anytime you stay here, you’re welcome to use it!”
Katsuki grunted, and Kirishima turned the lights out before motioning for Katsuki to follow him around to the other side of the stairs. “Back here’s the home theatre.”

He opened a set of doors, revealing a room that was like 90% couch. A projector screen sat on the far wall.
“All of the equipment’s in here,” Kirishima said, opening a little closet and showing Katsuki the gaming consoles and players. He had everything from Laser Disc to Beta Max and VHS players hooked up to the projection equipment.
“Sometimes I host film parties or game days! You should come to the next one.” He grinned and shut the door before guiding Katsuki back out into the main area of the basement.
A massive pool table with crimson felt and dark wood edging inlaid with mother of pearl sat in the center of the room. Cues were lined up on a wall hanger, and an air hockey table was shoved up against another wall.
Pinball machines and a foosball table were set against the other wall. Comfortable couches and chairs were strewn around, and a fully stocked bar looked over the whole thing. The damn bar even had a place for a keg and had a wine fridge.
/Holy. Shit./
“Over here’s the game area,” he continued, and he led Katsuki to another door on the other side of the bar from where the theater room was. “I used to be big into tabletop gaming, but I don’t really see people often enough to keep up game nights.”
Katsuki peered into the room. There was a massive eight-foot table in the center with a bunch of figurines on it. They looked like they hadn’t been touched in a long time.
Kirishima closed the door and motioned to the last door on the level. “Bathroom!” He grinned. “I’ll show you around upstairs after we swim, okay?”
“Sure,” he mumbled, and he followed the redhead out a set of glass French doors to the backyard.

Kirishima flipped a few switches, and the whole fucking yard lit up.
Strings of lights dipped between trees and posts in an intricate, beautiful web, giving off just the right amount of light to keep things comfortable. A few electric lights were spread out further into the yard, making little paths easy to see in the darkness.
They stood on a flagstone pad that had been acid washed to give it a unique, masculine look. A fire pit sat close by, surrounded by comfortable-looking wicker deck furniture. The furniture had red cushions, and beyond that was a lit pool.
Steam curled up from the clear blue water.

To the right, Katsuki spotted a pool house. It was pretty big, and he guessed the sauna was in there. To the left of the pool was a small bamboo forest, and he didn’t doubt that the onsen was back that direction.
The pond Kirishima had mentioned was just off the edge of the patio, and he spotted some beautiful koi swimming around in the dark waters of their pond.

Katsuki swallowed hard, and when he glanced up at the other man, he saw his daddy smiling down at him.
“Like it?”

“’D be an idiot not to,” he replied.

Kirishima smiled and leaned in, pressing his lips to Katsuki’s cheek. “Well, it’s all yours for as long as you want.”

Katsuki blinked as the words sank in. “Huh?”
“You’re my baby,” he said, hand sliding up to rest against the small of Katsuki’s back. “My home is your home. I want you to feel welcome here.”

“So, what? You gonna give me a key or some shit?” he snarked, only half-joking.
Kirishima beamed. “Of course! I actually have a set of keys upstairs for you, if you want them. I didn’t wanna force anything on you, but I hope you’ll come stay with me here on weekends.”
“Thought you worked weekends.” He was trying his damndest not to think of the implications of having a set of keys to his daddy’s house.

“I’d be less likely to work ’em if I had a reason to stay home,” he replied with that coy smile.
“Oh yeah?”


Katsuki smirked and said, “We’ll have to test that theory next weekend, then.”

Kirishima’s smile faded a little. “Unfortunately, I won’t have much of a choice the next few weeks. I need to deal with all the accounts that Takaiyo messed with.”
He scowled at that, then said, “And if I helped after work?”

“Bakugou… you don’t have to do that.”

“Said I would,” he replied a little hotly. “If it means I get you to m’self on the weekends, then it’s fucking worth it.”
Kirishima hummed and said, “We’ll see.”

“Whatever,” he snipped. “Let’s get in the damn water. ’M freezing.”
Before he could take a step, the redhead bent over and picked him up. He slung Katsuki over his shoulder and, on their way to the pool, he tossed the towels onto a wicker chaise.

Kirishima started to run.



And then they were flying through the air, and Kirishima rolled so that he and Katsuki hit the water at the same time, but with Katsuki on top.
He shoved away from the other man and scrambled for the surface, kicking against the water until his head broke into air. He gasped and shoved his wet hair out of his eyes.

When Kirishima surfaced, the redhead broke into laughter. “Whee!”

“Oh, c’mon, baby. It was fun!” He pushed his own wet locks out of his face. “You didn’t enjoy that?”

Katsuki’s cheeks were bright red, and he splashed Kirishima. “Fuck you!”

“Mm… maybe another night, baby.”
His eyes widened, and he sputtered, treading water for a few seconds before he launched at the other man and tried to dunk him.

Kirishima was laughing loud and hard. “You’re too small to dunk me!”

But then Kirishima wrapped his hands around Katsuki’s waist—his fingertips touched. He hummed as he dragged Katsuki closer. “My baby /is/ small…”

Then soft lips pressed to his, and Katsuki’s eyes rolled closed as his daddy pressed flush against him. His enormous body was warm and sturdy, and Katsuki fell into the kiss like it was the last one he’d ever enjoy.
When Kirishima pulled away, Katsuki ran his hands over the other man’s freckled chest. He slipped his fingers toward the pierced nipple, but stopped.

“Do you like it?” the redhead asked, following Katuski’s gaze to his chest. “If you don’t, I can—”
“Stop,” he muttered, rubbing his palm over the dips and swells of Kirishima’s pec. “Looks fine.”

“Oh. Okay. Good.”

Katsuki looked up at him and frowned a little. “Why me?”

“…why you what?”
“Why’d you pick /me/ to be your sugar baby?” he asked, trying not to hesitate around the last two words.
Kirishima smiled and brushed some of Katsuki’s ashy hair away from his eyes. “You’re… I dunno. Amazing, I guess. Sexy, yeah, but really, /really/ smart. And funny.” His lips tucked up into a shy smile. “I like how funny you are.”
“’M not funny.”

“You make me laugh,” he replied with a slow, lazy shrug, and he drifted away, pulling Katsuki with him and keeping him close, one hand on his hip and the other linked in Katsuki’s. “I like you a lot.”
Katsuki snorted. “You barely know me.”

“True,” he agreed. “But I want to get to know you better.” He tugged Katsuki back into his arms, and the two of them drifted together for a while in silence.
“…I like to cook,” he said after a bit.

Kirishima cocked his head and looked at him. “Yeah?”

Katsuki nodded.

“I’m not very good at cooking,” the redhead admitted with a laugh. “I burn water.”

“Tch. ’S hard to do.”

“Not if your me!”
Katsuki pushed away gingerly before swimming lazy circles around his daddy. “I’ll make you something sometime. What d’you like to eat?”


He stopped swimming, then, before he could stop himself, he quipped, “I bet you do.”
Kirishima blinked, and then it dawned on him what Katsuki meant—and what he’d said. A brilliant pink flush carried down his cheeks and neck and across his chest. “I—I didn’t mean like /that/!”
“That’s disappointing,” Katsuki replied, rolling onto his back and gazing up at the night sky while he floated.

Kirishima floundered. “I—I mean, I’m… I do! I just… it’s not…” He fell silent before groaning and saying, “I’m just making it worse, aren’t I?”
“’S kinda funny.”

“Don’t be mean!”

Katsuki rolled back onto his stomach and swam toward Kirishima, backing the other man up until he bumped into the wall. He gave a sharp, predatory grin. “Bet you’re good at it, even with those teeth of yours.”
Kirishima opened his mouth to retort, but Katsuki cut him off. “Maybe you could show me just how much you like ‘meat’ sometime, /Daddy/.”
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