[ it was a swift victory, and that's all that matters to Bakugou.
from the start of their match and until the very end, he was adamant to have everything run smoothly and in perfect symmetry. the result is: a coordinated teamwork under his leadership that directed them to an epic triumph that's fitted for Bakugou Katsuki's standards. he can finally breathe now, but as soon as the surge of wild adrenaline had fizzled out, it struck him hard the damage his body had taken, and how deep those— wooden-like pillars had punctured his skin in a gory clutter, and sealed into the open flesh; now throbbing with every heartbeat. needless to say, Bakugou found himself being chaperoned to the treatment room as soon as their training had ended.
half an hour in and the medic is going back and forth about the idea of sedating Bakugou first, something he's unwilling to comply with. he's a stiff-necked patient, a reputation he had built in U.A., among other things— ]
Just pull them out!!
[ he didn't quite understand the utter look of mistrust at his proposal. ]
[the "tie" tastes bitter on his tongue and the sweetness of the candy bar given to him does nothing to chase it down. there's no other option but swallow what he perceives as a loss down and continue on, thoughts pouring over his friends — is Yaoyorozu awake? how did Midoriya fair? Bakugou? the breach into his inner circle of thoughts doesn't go unnoticed as he pulls himself out of his own room and into the halls, a voice reverberating off of the walls like it was echoed from his very own thoughts]
[he's eager to know the results, if what they've trained so hard together in those classes paid off — if Bakugou's living the adviced he'd offered to struggling children]
[unexpectedly bloody is his first thought as he takes in the scene... and that's practically his last thought as emotions surge, filling his stamina-drained body with something dark and intense, rationale lost in an onslaught of feeling, and he forgets himself for a moment:]
Katsuki. [a blink and it's gone, in the split moment it takes the medic to look at him, standing there in the doorway in his tattered and broken-open costume, and his quick conjuring of an excuse surprises even him:]
They need you in the other rooms. It seems like they're having difficulty removing some of the mushroom spores from the victims' lungs.
[it takes a few beats for it to sink in, where Todoroki's darkened gaze dances wildly over Bakugou — an expression he hasn't worn with the other boy since... maybe since the day he'd pinned him to the classroom wall by his throat, or their first endeavor into shared delinquency that they healed together over]
I can take care of him.
[and he means it. when the staff member reluctantly walks out of the room, Todoroki closes the door behind him — and locks it. that deadened expression falls, the shadows taking over his face, the intensity and the anger and the... desire that flares in his veins and whatever else is tightening up his gut, a volatile concoction burning him through]
[no one can hurt you like this but me, that's the only coherent thing that sounds out of the great fog in his brain as he goes to him, running fingers through his hair with a sweet affection that doesn't match his face but isn't unharmonious what's beneath that]
[ the medic was reluctant to leave, and Bakugou was reluctant to allow it when their eyes locked briefly, but something kept his lips sealed of any dissent, and he ended up watching the man exit the room. however, the subtle 'click' of the door made him regret that choice in a beat.
it's been a while since he'd last seen that look on Todoroki's features, and instantly— the mood in the room took an ominous twist; a sinking overwhelm in the pit of his guts. Bakugou abandoned his seat, the stiffness of his muscles portrayed the arduous weight on his back, and the severity of his injuries as a few droplets of blood painted the floor red. he was weary, but his intuitions advised him to stand up, and—
-and what? what's next?
the graze of those fingers felt anything but 'soothing', yet Bakugou permitted it as he regarded the other. the complexion of his eyes flattered his blood-soaked look, equal to those discolorations that coated Todoroki's pale face. both battered and out of stamina, but one had an advantage over the other. ]
Yeah. Fucking easy.
[ he's still vigilant of his boyfriend's mood, yet Bakugou didn't fear further contact, using his fingers to search for any swelling on the back of Todoroki's head. it felt like taunting a hungry animal by poking him with a stick, but— oh, he's still concerned for the other after taking such a brutal blow that knocked him unconscious. once satisfied with his well being, Bakugou broke off any physical indulgence and created some distance between them, stopping when he felt the leg of the chair touch his own. ]
Are you really going to take care of me, Shou? [ impetuous and straight-forward as always. ] Because if you really want to do that, right now, we need to take it outside.
[ he gets it. Shotuo is fucking angry. who wouldn't be? it was a miserable defeat. he could've done more against Tetsu, or pushed himself harder. Bakugou understood that harrowing rage behind failure, and he'd give that boy what he needs.
he's willing to take the punches, and bite back, but ... not here. ]
[ah, there he goes again — his penchant for underselling his own achievements like he isn't worthy of them yet; Todoroki is painfully familiar with the understatements that belie a more critical and nihilistic view beyond the surface appearance of distance and control, though where it manifests differs between them. again, he regrets not getting to see it, not only because he cares about the other boy standing in front of him, that he wants to see his growth, but also because he wants to recognize where his competitors fall]
[we need to take it outside... he almost laughs. how gung-ho.]
That isn't it.
[it can't be that different: Bakugou looking for wounds on him and Todoroki already knowing where his are, how it looks as though his flesh has turned to glue holding against it its own assault. it's too difficult for him to explain, the words tasting too acrid on his tongue, as if speaking them would make either of them realize how depraved this really is — so instead he kisses him]
[with a hand on his jaw to hold him steady, a hot tongue pressing in and lashing at him, taking and claiming, arrogant in its stake: mine. there's another hand on him, at the slope of his ribs that leads down to that tapered waist, rough and coiling around the bottom-most peg, fingers sending quakes of pain into one of those welded wounds as his grip closes around it — ]
[and rips, mouth swallowing up his agony, open eyes watching him through the taste of blood and snap of his own teeth. actions over words, that's how he's always managed, and this is no different as he chucks the thing to clatter noisily across the tiled floor, fingers wet in the dripping lesion left behind as he pulls hips to crash against his own, burgeoning arousal pressing thick into his thigh as his own slides between Bakugou's and forces them apart]
Would you like to sit down so I can finish you properly before I remind you who you belong to, or should I just get started now? [it's a sickeningly loving and darkly sensual murmur against his lips, bloodied fingers sliding wetly on sweaty skin, kneading into taut muscle that no doubt smarts with his sores]
[ those words startled him, uncertain how he misinterpret the situation so terribly, but in his defense— that boy had the same vibe of enmity in both moods. what followed is a blur of hungry kisses, and Bakugou was quick and eager to return it; gloved-hands grab into what they can in a desperate clutch. it was easy to lose his senses when he's under Todoroki's touch. his body, his heat, the taste of those lips, the salacity of his tongue— just everything is enough to numb his surroundings.
for a moment, he forgot about the malaise of his injuries; a bliss that didn't quite last before the shooting pain bolted through his body, and he jerked away from their kiss in reflex. he hisses; teeth bared and eyes firmly shut as his breath hitches again, stuttering in the uneven rise and fall of his chest. there's a few seconds of torturous stillness, as if they are both waiting for a protest that didn't come— that won't come, because Bakugou is every bit as touch-starved as always. even right now. like this!
the pain is not something he can't handle, after all. even when the warmth of fresh blood oozed down the curve of his back in thick, heavy streams; drawing a gory path over his battle-bruised skin. his agony didn't end there- ... he flinched when Todoroki's fingers toyed with the open wound, but still there's no protest or a complaint. nothing more than shaky, heavy breaths, and hot tears in the corner of each eye.
Bakugou's ugly smirk went a fraction wider; aggressively taunting, meeting the mismatched gaze in a daring confrontation— ]
So I belong to you now? That easy, huh?
[ he tilts his head up, sucking his bruised lip between his teeth. Bakugou knows what he must look like right now, what his eyes must be begging for. instead of anger; the red-hot vehemence that embodied him, Todoroki's try for superiority made his guts twist with desirous anticipation. he wanted to see that 'reminder', and what Todoroki had in mind for him. utterly intrigued—
- so Bakugou 'obeys'.
it almost hurts to break away so soon, already feeling his own arousal pressing against the dense textile of his hero suit, but he ignores it for now. with his back facing his partner, he settled down on the chair, and tried to relax. ]
[the feeling of prey in his clutches sends something dizzying and bright and hot all through him; he can feel Bakugou shake and breathe against him, alive and accepting, responding to him the way he wants. it's intoxicating — it makes him feel... powerful, a craving for control always in him like a fire that's now stoked and fed. Bakugou's so much more than just gasoline, but right now, it's what Todoroki needs]
[he reads those red eyes openly, pulls colors of blood and flame from them, unguarded in his appreciation as his gaze runs warm on down to the parted mouth speaking to him, taking in the features that have softened him bit by bit. this used to be difficult — now it's only welcome. now, it's some kind of gift of togetherness nestled inside of the carnage and pain; now, Bakugou has encouraged him to have confidence and certainty in all the ugliness in him]
It won't be easy.
[his breath is cool when he exhales the words at the back of his neck, a cold rush right at the nape that easily frosts over the beads of his sweat that have formed there. there's no toying with Bakugou about their distance, no sweet little games of anticipation — he's just on him the way he wants to be, cementing what's between them with the physicality he's been trained to speak through. his fingers don't curl around another peg next, instead praising him for his obedience with a hand petting down the side of his body and curling around to the front]
[it's impossible to be as close to him as he wants to be with these chunks of debris shooting out, but he can give him a little relief. his fingers squeeze on the clasp to his belt for it to slack all around his hips, allowing him the freedom to slip his hand into those roomy pants and slip his fingers around the entire base of him, giving a squeeze that's far too playful for their shared severity]
[Todoroki's biting humor flourishes in moments like these, really]
You'll need to earn it.
[the barest tickle of his long bangs are what convey his head lowering first, and then — the frigid lash of his wet tongue traces the seams of one of those segments that affixes itself to Bakugou's shoulderblade like a faulty wing, and he licks attentively where the flesh has cracked and mottled and bled with the fusion. the flavors he takes are intense on his tongue: salt and copper and steel, the chemical sweetness of his sweat, the tang of his own desire making it that much more palatable]
[his lips close and he sucks at the edges of the wound that begs to be deepened by Todoroki ripping out the foreign object, his warm fingers sliding up the length of Bakugou's cock and back down in a slow, easy pump that runs over the sensitive head]
[moving his lips smears blood in his wake, peppering gory kisses over to his spine — and then sinking his teeth down between the two fused columns, introducing a new kind of pain that has only his name written in it]
You could take it all, couldn't you? Even now. [his free hand grips the peg he'd just been tasting, giving it a painful pull, but not enough to free it from the prison of flesh and blood it's created on the boy's back] Anything I had to give.
[and he loves this about Bakugou — all that strength, that resilience — and even more than that, he loves the idea of breaking it, making him beg around his swallowed pride]
[ Todoroki's eyes never looked that intense for as long as he'd known him. as if a menacing shadow loomed over that boy's demeanor, and over the strong contours of his face; like a hound on a trail of a prey. the unbridled strength of it alone had Bakugou reeling and wondering– just how sinister it could get if he'd give in to him fully. his knees trembled with that thought, and the coiling heat between his legs curled tighter. the harsh change in countenance thrilled him, charged the blood in his veins to pump faster, his heart jittery with – what? fear? arousal? fervor? yes, all of that!
he'd seen the signs leading up to this moment long ago. it started with a crushing grip around his throat, and he'd seen another glimpse when he was pushed against the wall, face bruised, bloody and scarred for life. same eyes, same look. right now.
Bakugou's eyes fluttered open with a muted gasp, his body mid-arch; breathing shallow, quick from shock. the logical side of him wanted to react like a sane person and push Todoroki off him. those wounds— are neither fresh, nor sanitary to have anyone's tongue rubbing on them. dirt, sweat, small debris and the toxic taste of metal\nitroglycerin required a strong stomach to try to savour it all. he should stop him, end this, but— Bakugou didn't.
his utter submission is turning into a dangerous pattern today.
Todoroki emitted sin with every breath he exhales, every kiss, and every touch. the image of his lips coated in gory red, and blood slithering down to his chin made him shudder. thick waves of unquenchable lust filled Bakugou's lungs and he moaned breathlessly; watching as Todoroki's fingers took in what they wanted with ease- ... defiant as he started violating him in the middle of the nurse's office.
a flash of fire shot through his groin and seared, springing Bakugou's eyes open, mouth agape as he felt those teeth stab his skin in a new mark; one hand clutched his abdomen and he bit down on a curse. shaken, Bakugou clenched his teeth and breathed through the extreme brand of pain that refused to fade. ]
God, you're so- ... so nasty! Fuckin' vicious ...
[ alas, they both shared their own unique sense of humor. despite the intensity, and raw vigor in his tone, Bakugou never broke the smug smile even when he started writhing in his seat like an animal in heat; licking his dry lips as he learned something new about himself. as much as Todoroki loved to hurt him, Bakugou loved to welcome it. ]
... Fuck.
[ swallowing hard and heaving with breath, Bakugou ground his forehead against the head of the chair, hands fisted upon his thighs as he rode through another strike of pain and burn that tore through him like wild fire. it left him starved and restless, and then Todoroki's words sounded like sweet promises masking ominous red flags. but, with everything going on— he was edging to a stage where he didn't want to fight back. he just wanted to feel. anything.
he nodded slowly, his voice raspy and low, eyes barely open. ]
Mm. Anything you had t-to give ...
[ it's still all fun and games. still feels good. it's okay ... ]
[Bakugou is fucking hard in his hand, and that's all the confirmation he needs; the question — and the insults that sounded more like praise — had been rhetorical, but the answers he found churn his blood south as much as the anger (at himself, at Bakugou, at the bastard who marked him like this) had. now, he finds his jealousy compounded, he himself touch-starved in the worst moments, and instead of take, he gives]
[when his hand releases the hard cock in its grip, it's left abandoned and exposed, nestled on the black fabric of a dirty hero suit that the world may one day come to recognize but for now, stays safe and locked away where Todoroki wants it. fingers find a crown of blond spikes and pull, ripping Bakugou's head back, but the abuse doesn't last there, turns instead to cradling. the throat in his grip isn't squeezed, his chin left unbruised and unmarked despite the grip he has it in, but he opens him up instead — leaning over him, ominous, looming, he plunges his filthy tongue into his mouth, a kiss that's awkwardly positioned but no less dirty and evocative for how his tongue slides against the other boy's erotically, urging him to suck every bit of poison from it]
[then is when his fingers close around another one of the pegs to give it a sudden and unceremonious, anguished pull]
[Todoroki's own body is spent and tired, heavy with lethargy, but he hasn't bled the way he has no doubts Bakugou will make him — but here is where he wants to be, to feel his mouth shake and open with the agony of it, where his hot tears are so close for his thumb to slide across and wipe for him]
[and when the peg clatters loudly to the ground, splattering detritus as it lands, Todoroki pulls away from their kiss with all of its agonizing scrape and throb to lick at his temple and catch a falling teardrop on his tongue too. now what remains are the two on the top as the mottled holes left on his skin bleed into the seam of his pants; when Todoroki's hands are all over him again, his fingers settle and grip into his hips suggestively, palms folding over the wounds with the width of his palm, and he lifts]
Come here.
[books and paperwork atop an office desk are scattered as Todoroki roughly slams Bakugou into it, bending him over onto the hard surface with a close press of his body, the removed bottom pegs giving him the room to take the touch he was craving. it's not difficult to feel the erection through his own hero suit, full and rough against where he presses his hips square into Bakugou's and nestles it right between his cheeks like he's about to fuck him through the fabric. there's no denying the relieved sigh as he ruts down against him, a moment of control that slips away from him as the pent-up expression of sadism make for an uncomfortable time as he squeezes into those wounds with an unforgiving grip, and presses him hard enough that Bakugou's neglected dick drags across the cool surface of the desk]
[a few rocks is all it takes for his head to swim, the searing, overwhelming lust for this — for him — to knock the breath out of him. he's panting hard when he stops again, breath fanning out on the sick-sticky skin of his back:]
Katsuki —
[he wants him so bad, and he's all he can taste, practically drugged on it. maybe he was a little too prepared for this when he carefully lets his hips go, palms now covered in gore, and grabs a small bottle from the knapsack situated in the small of his back, the sound of a cap popping the only warning that serves for what comes next as he jerks Bakugou's slacks down onto his thighs haphazardly and slots a finger covered in both lube and carnage into him all the way to the knuckle]
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no subject
from the start of their match and until the very end, he was adamant to have everything run smoothly and in perfect symmetry. the result is: a coordinated teamwork under his leadership that directed them to an epic triumph that's fitted for Bakugou Katsuki's standards. he can finally breathe now, but as soon as the surge of wild adrenaline had fizzled out, it struck him hard the damage his body had taken, and how deep those— wooden-like pillars had punctured his skin in a gory clutter, and sealed into the open flesh; now throbbing with every heartbeat. needless to say, Bakugou found himself being chaperoned to the treatment room as soon as their training had ended.
half an hour in and the medic is going back and forth about the idea of sedating Bakugou first, something he's unwilling to comply with. he's a stiff-necked patient, a reputation he had built in U.A., among other things— ]
Just pull them out!!
[ he didn't quite understand the utter look of mistrust at his proposal. ]
no subject
[he's eager to know the results, if what they've trained so hard together in those classes paid off — if Bakugou's living the adviced he'd offered to struggling children]
[unexpectedly bloody is his first thought as he takes in the scene... and that's practically his last thought as emotions surge, filling his stamina-drained body with something dark and intense, rationale lost in an onslaught of feeling, and he forgets himself for a moment:]
Katsuki. [a blink and it's gone, in the split moment it takes the medic to look at him, standing there in the doorway in his tattered and broken-open costume, and his quick conjuring of an excuse surprises even him:]
They need you in the other rooms. It seems like they're having difficulty removing some of the mushroom spores from the victims' lungs.
[it takes a few beats for it to sink in, where Todoroki's darkened gaze dances wildly over Bakugou — an expression he hasn't worn with the other boy since... maybe since the day he'd pinned him to the classroom wall by his throat, or their first endeavor into shared delinquency that they healed together over]
I can take care of him.
[and he means it. when the staff member reluctantly walks out of the room, Todoroki closes the door behind him — and locks it. that deadened expression falls, the shadows taking over his face, the intensity and the anger and the... desire that flares in his veins and whatever else is tightening up his gut, a volatile concoction burning him through]
[no one can hurt you like this but me, that's the only coherent thing that sounds out of the great fog in his brain as he goes to him, running fingers through his hair with a sweet affection that doesn't match his face but isn't unharmonious what's beneath that]
Did you win?
no subject
it's been a while since he'd last seen that look on Todoroki's features, and instantly— the mood in the room took an ominous twist; a sinking overwhelm in the pit of his guts. Bakugou abandoned his seat, the stiffness of his muscles portrayed the arduous weight on his back, and the severity of his injuries as a few droplets of blood painted the floor red. he was weary, but his intuitions advised him to stand up, and—
-and what? what's next?
the graze of those fingers felt anything but 'soothing', yet Bakugou permitted it as he regarded the other. the complexion of his eyes flattered his blood-soaked look, equal to those discolorations that coated Todoroki's pale face. both battered and out of stamina, but one had an advantage over the other. ]
Yeah. Fucking easy.
[ he's still vigilant of his boyfriend's mood, yet Bakugou didn't fear further contact, using his fingers to search for any swelling on the back of Todoroki's head. it felt like taunting a hungry animal by poking him with a stick, but— oh, he's still concerned for the other after taking such a brutal blow that knocked him unconscious. once satisfied with his well being, Bakugou broke off any physical indulgence and created some distance between them, stopping when he felt the leg of the chair touch his own. ]
Are you really going to take care of me, Shou? [ impetuous and straight-forward as always. ] Because if you really want to do that, right now, we need to take it outside.
[ he gets it. Shotuo is fucking angry. who wouldn't be? it was a miserable defeat. he could've done more against Tetsu, or pushed himself harder. Bakugou understood that harrowing rage behind failure, and he'd give that boy what he needs.
he's willing to take the punches, and bite back, but ... not here. ]
no subject
[we need to take it outside... he almost laughs. how gung-ho.]
That isn't it.
[it can't be that different: Bakugou looking for wounds on him and Todoroki already knowing where his are, how it looks as though his flesh has turned to glue holding against it its own assault. it's too difficult for him to explain, the words tasting too acrid on his tongue, as if speaking them would make either of them realize how depraved this really is — so instead he kisses him]
[with a hand on his jaw to hold him steady, a hot tongue pressing in and lashing at him, taking and claiming, arrogant in its stake: mine. there's another hand on him, at the slope of his ribs that leads down to that tapered waist, rough and coiling around the bottom-most peg, fingers sending quakes of pain into one of those welded wounds as his grip closes around it — ]
[and rips, mouth swallowing up his agony, open eyes watching him through the taste of blood and snap of his own teeth. actions over words, that's how he's always managed, and this is no different as he chucks the thing to clatter noisily across the tiled floor, fingers wet in the dripping lesion left behind as he pulls hips to crash against his own, burgeoning arousal pressing thick into his thigh as his own slides between Bakugou's and forces them apart]
Would you like to sit down so I can finish you properly before I remind you who you belong to, or should I just get started now? [it's a sickeningly loving and darkly sensual murmur against his lips, bloodied fingers sliding wetly on sweaty skin, kneading into taut muscle that no doubt smarts with his sores]
no subject
for a moment, he forgot about the malaise of his injuries; a bliss that didn't quite last before the shooting pain bolted through his body, and he jerked away from their kiss in reflex. he hisses; teeth bared and eyes firmly shut as his breath hitches again, stuttering in the uneven rise and fall of his chest. there's a few seconds of torturous stillness, as if they are both waiting for a protest that didn't come— that won't come, because Bakugou is every bit as touch-starved as always. even right now. like this!
the pain is not something he can't handle, after all. even when the warmth of fresh blood oozed down the curve of his back in thick, heavy streams; drawing a gory path over his battle-bruised skin. his agony didn't end there- ... he flinched when Todoroki's fingers toyed with the open wound, but still there's no protest or a complaint. nothing more than shaky, heavy breaths, and hot tears in the corner of each eye.
Bakugou's ugly smirk went a fraction wider; aggressively taunting, meeting the mismatched gaze in a daring confrontation— ]
So I belong to you now? That easy, huh?
[ he tilts his head up, sucking his bruised lip between his teeth. Bakugou knows what he must look like right now, what his eyes must be begging for. instead of anger; the red-hot vehemence that embodied him, Todoroki's try for superiority made his guts twist with desirous anticipation. he wanted to see that 'reminder', and what Todoroki had in mind for him. utterly intrigued—
- so Bakugou 'obeys'.
it almost hurts to break away so soon, already feeling his own arousal pressing against the dense textile of his hero suit, but he ignores it for now. with his back facing his partner, he settled down on the chair, and tried to relax. ]
no subject
[he reads those red eyes openly, pulls colors of blood and flame from them, unguarded in his appreciation as his gaze runs warm on down to the parted mouth speaking to him, taking in the features that have softened him bit by bit. this used to be difficult — now it's only welcome. now, it's some kind of gift of togetherness nestled inside of the carnage and pain; now, Bakugou has encouraged him to have confidence and certainty in all the ugliness in him]
It won't be easy.
[his breath is cool when he exhales the words at the back of his neck, a cold rush right at the nape that easily frosts over the beads of his sweat that have formed there. there's no toying with Bakugou about their distance, no sweet little games of anticipation — he's just on him the way he wants to be, cementing what's between them with the physicality he's been trained to speak through. his fingers don't curl around another peg next, instead praising him for his obedience with a hand petting down the side of his body and curling around to the front]
[it's impossible to be as close to him as he wants to be with these chunks of debris shooting out, but he can give him a little relief. his fingers squeeze on the clasp to his belt for it to slack all around his hips, allowing him the freedom to slip his hand into those roomy pants and slip his fingers around the entire base of him, giving a squeeze that's far too playful for their shared severity]
[Todoroki's biting humor flourishes in moments like these, really]
You'll need to earn it.
[the barest tickle of his long bangs are what convey his head lowering first, and then — the frigid lash of his wet tongue traces the seams of one of those segments that affixes itself to Bakugou's shoulderblade like a faulty wing, and he licks attentively where the flesh has cracked and mottled and bled with the fusion. the flavors he takes are intense on his tongue: salt and copper and steel, the chemical sweetness of his sweat, the tang of his own desire making it that much more palatable]
[his lips close and he sucks at the edges of the wound that begs to be deepened by Todoroki ripping out the foreign object, his warm fingers sliding up the length of Bakugou's cock and back down in a slow, easy pump that runs over the sensitive head]
[moving his lips smears blood in his wake, peppering gory kisses over to his spine — and then sinking his teeth down between the two fused columns, introducing a new kind of pain that has only his name written in it]
You could take it all, couldn't you? Even now. [his free hand grips the peg he'd just been tasting, giving it a painful pull, but not enough to free it from the prison of flesh and blood it's created on the boy's back] Anything I had to give.
[and he loves this about Bakugou — all that strength, that resilience — and even more than that, he loves the idea of breaking it, making him beg around his swallowed pride]
no subject
he'd seen the signs leading up to this moment long ago. it started with a crushing grip around his throat, and he'd seen another glimpse when he was pushed against the wall, face bruised, bloody and scarred for life. same eyes, same look. right now.
Bakugou's eyes fluttered open with a muted gasp, his body mid-arch; breathing shallow, quick from shock. the logical side of him wanted to react like a sane person and push Todoroki off him. those wounds— are neither fresh, nor sanitary to have anyone's tongue rubbing on them. dirt, sweat, small debris and the toxic taste of metal\nitroglycerin required a strong stomach to try to savour it all. he should stop him, end this, but— Bakugou didn't.
his utter submission is turning into a dangerous pattern today.
Todoroki emitted sin with every breath he exhales, every kiss, and every touch. the image of his lips coated in gory red, and blood slithering down to his chin made him shudder. thick waves of unquenchable lust filled Bakugou's lungs and he moaned breathlessly; watching as Todoroki's fingers took in what they wanted with ease- ... defiant as he started violating him in the middle of the nurse's office.
a flash of fire shot through his groin and seared, springing Bakugou's eyes open, mouth agape as he felt those teeth stab his skin in a new mark; one hand clutched his abdomen and he bit down on a curse. shaken, Bakugou clenched his teeth and breathed through the extreme brand of pain that refused to fade. ]
God, you're so- ... so nasty! Fuckin' vicious ...
[ alas, they both shared their own unique sense of humor. despite the intensity, and raw vigor in his tone, Bakugou never broke the smug smile even when he started writhing in his seat like an animal in heat; licking his dry lips as he learned something new about himself. as much as Todoroki loved to hurt him, Bakugou loved to welcome it. ]
... Fuck.
[ swallowing hard and heaving with breath, Bakugou ground his forehead against the head of the chair, hands fisted upon his thighs as he rode through another strike of pain and burn that tore through him like wild fire. it left him starved and restless, and then Todoroki's words sounded like sweet promises masking ominous red flags. but, with everything going on— he was edging to a stage where he didn't want to fight back. he just wanted to feel. anything.
he nodded slowly, his voice raspy and low, eyes barely open. ]
Mm. Anything you had t-to give ...
[ it's still all fun and games. still feels good. it's okay ... ]
no subject
[when his hand releases the hard cock in its grip, it's left abandoned and exposed, nestled on the black fabric of a dirty hero suit that the world may one day come to recognize but for now, stays safe and locked away where Todoroki wants it. fingers find a crown of blond spikes and pull, ripping Bakugou's head back, but the abuse doesn't last there, turns instead to cradling. the throat in his grip isn't squeezed, his chin left unbruised and unmarked despite the grip he has it in, but he opens him up instead — leaning over him, ominous, looming, he plunges his filthy tongue into his mouth, a kiss that's awkwardly positioned but no less dirty and evocative for how his tongue slides against the other boy's erotically, urging him to suck every bit of poison from it]
[then is when his fingers close around another one of the pegs to give it a sudden and unceremonious, anguished pull]
[Todoroki's own body is spent and tired, heavy with lethargy, but he hasn't bled the way he has no doubts Bakugou will make him — but here is where he wants to be, to feel his mouth shake and open with the agony of it, where his hot tears are so close for his thumb to slide across and wipe for him]
[and when the peg clatters loudly to the ground, splattering detritus as it lands, Todoroki pulls away from their kiss with all of its agonizing scrape and throb to lick at his temple and catch a falling teardrop on his tongue too. now what remains are the two on the top as the mottled holes left on his skin bleed into the seam of his pants; when Todoroki's hands are all over him again, his fingers settle and grip into his hips suggestively, palms folding over the wounds with the width of his palm, and he lifts]
Come here.
[books and paperwork atop an office desk are scattered as Todoroki roughly slams Bakugou into it, bending him over onto the hard surface with a close press of his body, the removed bottom pegs giving him the room to take the touch he was craving. it's not difficult to feel the erection through his own hero suit, full and rough against where he presses his hips square into Bakugou's and nestles it right between his cheeks like he's about to fuck him through the fabric. there's no denying the relieved sigh as he ruts down against him, a moment of control that slips away from him as the pent-up expression of sadism make for an uncomfortable time as he squeezes into those wounds with an unforgiving grip, and presses him hard enough that Bakugou's neglected dick drags across the cool surface of the desk]
[a few rocks is all it takes for his head to swim, the searing, overwhelming lust for this — for him — to knock the breath out of him. he's panting hard when he stops again, breath fanning out on the sick-sticky skin of his back:]
Katsuki —
[he wants him so bad, and he's all he can taste, practically drugged on it. maybe he was a little too prepared for this when he carefully lets his hips go, palms now covered in gore, and grabs a small bottle from the knapsack situated in the small of his back, the sound of a cap popping the only warning that serves for what comes next as he jerks Bakugou's slacks down onto his thighs haphazardly and slots a finger covered in both lube and carnage into him all the way to the knuckle]