Chapter Text
Blood Riot || Kirishima Eijirou
If this was a dream, Eijirou never wants to wake up.
Dynamight sits before him like a king on a throne. His posture is relaxed with knees spread wide to show off a very impressive package outlined by his loose pro costume slacks. The signature smirk and devilish red glint in his eyes is nothing short of manly. He beckons Eijirou closer with a finger.
Eijirou can’t resist the call. The man is catnip. He oozes ‘tough guy’ out of every pore and Eijirou could never deny him anything. The redhead walks forward with bated breath until their knees knock and Dynamight reaches out to touch him with an orange and green gloved hand.
It’s only then that Eijirou realizes he’s completely nude. Dynamight’s eyes sear into his own, daring him to look away while that brutal hand slowly travels over his chest and abs, down to the soft swell of his belly. That hand holds the explosive power of fire. Without blinking an eye Dynamight could blast a hole through Eijirou right then and there. Leave him charred. Vaporize him. Dynamight was a living, breathing weapon who has shown time and again that his power is unmatchable.
A soft whimper escapes Eijirou’s throat. Dynamight’s smirk slices across his face into a full-blown feral grin. He moves quickly, grabs Eijirou’s hips and yanks the man into his lap. Eijirou collapses into Dynamight and shamelessly grinds his half-hard cock into the hero’s cloth covered abs.
“Dynamight…” he begs, voice broken.
The pro hero’s response is a deep, masculine groan in his ear. He speaks garbled, meaningless words, but Eijirou doesn’t care. It’s the timbre of that voice he can never forget. That animalistic growl with the promise of violence in every syllable. Dynamight grips Eijirou’s hips tightly as the redhead humps his lap.
“Thank you, thank you,” Eijirou whispers. He’s close. It’s never felt this good before, never this hot.A drop of perspiration slides down Eijirou’s neck. Dynamight doesn’t let up on his burning grip. The heat is building between them at every point of contact. Dynamight’s touch ignites something inside Eijirou. Something dangerous and all-consuming. Something he can’t deny or turn away from. It hurts but he can’t stop. He’s almost there! Even as Dynamight’s fire eats away at his flesh he chases the pleasure, head thrown back, mouth open, submitting to the fire as it burns him to ash.
Eijirou wakes with a start and grabs his phone to check the time, cringing at his reflection in the dark screen covered in cracks. It’s dead. Dust motes float in the yellow sunlight filtering through his blinds into his bedroom. His cats Crimson and Clover scratch noisily at his bedroom door for breakfast, meowing pitifully. It’s already 8 am! He’s going to be late!
“Fuck fuck fuck! I can’t miss it…”
Without time for a shower, he leaps out of bed and bumbles across the room to grab the dry shampoo. Half a can later he barely presentable with his standard wild mane of fire engine red hair styled into a half ponytail. His outfit is a simple pair of jeans with a red, orange and yellow graphic tee that stretched tight over his chest and shoulders. As he pulls the shirt over his head he catches a glimpse of his belly in the mirror and flashes of his dream come to the surface.
Eijirou is cut as hell. He works hard for his physique, but in the off months he had the tendency to bulk up a little too much… He pats his little tummy pooch then pushes the thought away. If it was good enough for dream Dynamight, it was good enough for him. For now.
After quickly dumping food out for his cats, Eijirou grabs his backpack makes a run for the cafe down the street. Literally. He hits the pavement and pounds across ten blocks, breath heaving, until he reaches the corner just two doors down.
Perfect timing. There he is walking out of the cafe with his customary morning iced coffee, add one shot, three pumps hazelnut, light ice…
Bakugou Katsuki, aka…
Dynamight.
Eijirou runs right into him like a freight train, knocking them both into the street.
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Pro-Hero Dynamight || Bakugou Katsuki
Katsuki Bakugo - a.k.a 'Dynamight' - was pulling a double. Last night's patrol had been fucking hell. The absolutely worst bullshit he had ever had to deal with since his internship with Endeavor. Traffic accidents, near misses on trains, people trying to fly from buildings, students breaking into places they shouldn't be, and the list goes on.
And of course Mirko let some newbie have the morning shift off because they felt - and he fucking quotes - that the '*stars were out of alignment for work today*'. He was gonna shove hit boot so far up that little shit ass the Newbie was gonna taste the asphalt that Dynamight had been wearing new pathways in for the next two weeks. Just the thought of that lame ass excuse had his hands crackling to life. Gone were the years where he'd actually let off a true explosion in a fit of rage, now he let off small sparks to lessen his rage.
The fact was he needed something to get him through the next 8 hour shift. That is why he was at this bullshit coffee shop with his black training bag under his arm. He had only an hour or two to sleep, so he managed to catch a quick training session with Mind Freak before swing here to get his coffee.
He rather liked this place, mostly cause the barista behind the bar knew his order and could have it ready quickly. The chick always seemed to know when the add shot was needed. It's why he tipped so fucking well. She didn't ask him a bunch of bullshit, she didn't bring up his title, just made his coffee and let him leave. Huge tip for that shit.
Coffee in hand, sanity lost somewhere between 2 am's drunk-n-disorderly and 6 am's Mind Freak special meant that Bakugo wasn't fucking looking for flying rocks. Or in the case of the huge ass bastard that decided to broadside tackle him, runaway boulders. His coffee was gone, his bag went flying, and so too did his patience.
"WHAT THE FUCK!" Pointedly, Bakugo rammed his knee into the man who tackled him, getting the asshole off him. "The hell is your damage?!"
Katsuki got up to find that his shirt now wore the coffee he had been planning of nursing through his next shift. This wasn't what he wanted this fucking early into his next shift. He wasn't even in costume! The snarl that pulled to life on his face was absolutely unhinged. He was pulling his shirt away from his skin, his nose wrinkling in disgust at the fact it clung to his skin in terrible ways. Unbothered by the fact his entire stomach was on display, his flame red eyes glared daggers at the red head as he pointedly rang out the coffee from his shirt.
"You better have a fucking great explanation or else that wall is gonna get acquainted with your face, Shitty Hair." He sneered, hearing small drops of coffee fall to the ground.
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Blood Riot || Kirishima Eijirou
“Oooh shit,” Eijirou pants from exertion. Dynamight — THE Dynamight — quickly squirms out from under him and knees Eijirou for good measure. He grunts from the jab and rolls off Dynamight with a barely restrained whimper of sheer star-struck excitement, then grabs his bag and throws it over his shoulder. He makes sure to get Dynamight’s as well and bows deeply, holding it out in front of him until the other man takes it. “Dude, I am so sorry. I owe you a new shirt, but I’m late for my—”
He straightens his posture as the 8:10 inbound city bus rolls past them at just in time. Looky-loos are starting to gather around them in a semi-circle. Even a barista from the store arrives to see what the commotion is, and some bystanders surreptitiously video tape Dynamight with their phones. No one misses the way airing out his shirt completely reveals his abs and adonis belt. Eijirou is invisible for the most part since everyone cares more about the explosive hero’s reaction. He has to start pulling away to get on the bus if he wants his plan to work.
“My bus!” He shouts, making a break for it.
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Pro-Hero Dynamight || Bakugou Katsuki
Katsuki tried to keep his revultion at being filmed like some kind of fucking animal from showing too much on his face. Pictures were one thing he had to deal with as he become a more popular Pro-Hero. Thankfully his Bad Boy image saved him most of the time.
But in moments like this, Katsuki wanted to be the fucking villain because this asshole was saying he was sorry but had to leave. What the FUCK! Katsuki dropped the shirt and spun on his heels to try nad grab the fucker, but the wily little asshole was on the bus before Katsuki could grab the fucker by his perfectly fine shirt.
Rage drove Katsuki to set off an explosion to send him into the sky. The bus was the target carrying the cargo that owed Katsuki a fucking shirt! But no sooner was he in the sky, did the ear com he left in chirp.
"Dynamite! Where the hell are you?" Mirko's voice yelled at him, making him look down at his watch. Fuck he was late. A dark snarl pulled form him as he let himself fall back to the ground. With a heavy landed, Katsuki grabbed his black bag and...a coffee that the barista was holding out with a blush.
Katsuki grunted a thank you before he blasted off again, heading to the agency. Once there, Mirko's lackies bitched at him the entire way to the locker room. Uravity was already there. The female hero joined Mirko's agency with him. It was the best place for learning hand-to-hand combat. Ochako had become more brutal now that she was free of her 'cute' chains.
Katsuki threw open his locker, reading to throw his training gear inside when he found this wasn't his fucking bag. Inside the black bag were piles of papers and rocks. Each papers was some shitty ballad where the word was 'Dynamite' was replacing key phrases. One even fucking said: 'sweet dynamite of mine'. A warped rendition of a famous song.
"What. The. FUCK!" Katsuki snarled throwing the bag away. Uravity had the gale to pick one of them up and laugh at what she read.
"A fan?" she asked, an impish grin on her face. Katsuki wanted to punch that face, but he knew she'd float him to the ceiling for an hour for retaliation. The audacity she grew in the last couple of years was bullshit. He was proud but still thought it was bullshit.
"A fucker who is gonna cum-shine my fucking shoes when I find him." He snarled as he roughly pulled his uniform back on. There was no one else there, so he was free to say that to her. They were part of a rather...unique group. Fuck, that asshole had his bag! This super freak of a fan had his bag. Which meant the fucker had his invitation and his manual. Fucking, lovely. Goddamn it.
"I won't be coming to the party cause that asshole had my bag, which means he has my invite." Katsuki's voice was quieter when he spoke to her again while clipping on his gauntlets.
Of all things, this was the last thing he wanted to get out. He had certain...proclivities that weren't suited for the Hero lifestyle. Even the Bad Boy label didn't protect him from questions and tarnish if that invite got out. But it was better him that someone else. His rep could handle it.
"Fuck!" He snarled as he slammed the locker door closed. Stomping out, Katsuki figured it was going to be a shit second shift. Even with the perfectly made coffee.
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Blood Riot || Kirishima Eijirou
Eijirou made it. He made it!! He sat on the bus squished between a little old lady and a woman with a baby, clutching Dynamight’s black bag to his chest like a schoolgirl. Adrenaline coursed through him lighting every nerve on fire. Once the bus turned the corner he disembarked and ran to the nearby alleyway. With the bag secured, he hardened his hands and scaled the brick wall with well-placed punches.
As Eijirou hopped from roof to roof he was comforted by the lack of explosive booms and screaming from behind. Dynamight hadn’t come after him. His giddiness was followed by a sharp pang of disappointment. How amazing would if have been to fight the blond right then and there?
He paused once he reached the roof of his own apartment building and rubbed the sore spot on his side where Dynamight kneed him. He could have hardened himself to deflect most of the blow, but Dynamight’s presence had completely knocked him senseless. Now Eijirou had a very tender reminder of their encounter. He bit his lip and gave a little squeal, hopping back and forth for a moment in a little celebratory dance.