[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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[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]