Chapter Text
They knew that All For One had done something to Bakugou when they got him back, but no one was entirely sure what—aside from stealing his quirk when it became apparent he wasn’t going to join the League of Villains.
Bakugou refuses to see Midoriya, so Shouto is the first classmate who is let into the hospital to see him.
“How are you doing?” Shouto asks.
“I had my fucking quirk stolen, and we still don’t know what the fuck he did to me,” Bakugou snarls back, not all that differently than usual. It’s almost a relief for Bakugou to be his usual surly self. Shouto’s really not sure what he’d do with him if he weren’t.
“Midoriya—”
“I don’t want to see fucking Deku!”
Shouto sighs, going over to sit next to Bakugou. “I’m not going to pretend to understand whatever the fuck it is you have. But he’s your friend, so I think he deserves better than that.”
Bakugou’s nose twitches and he turns away. He doesn’t stay turned away for long though. “Hey, you wearing some kinda cologne or something?” he asks.
“What? No,” Shouto replies, resisting the urge to sniff himself.
He almost smacks Bakugou’s hand as he reaches for Shouto but manages to curb the impulse. Bakugou’s hand is heavy and warm on the back of Shouto’s neck, and he pulls him forward, running his nose along the length of Shouto’s neck. He inhales so deeply, it tickles. “You smell good,” he says, rubbing his cheek along the underside of Shouto’s jaw.
“Bakugou, are you okay?” Shouto asks, unnerved for no reason he can quite put his finger on.
“Yeah,” Bakugou says, oddly calm. “You just smell really good.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Shouto asks again when Bakugo continues rubbing his cheek along Shouto’s chin and throat.
It seems to snap Bakugou out of it, but he still lets his hand linger on Shouto’s neck long enough to make him uneasy. As soon as he lets go, Shouto stands up. “I’m going to head out. Kirishima is waiting to see you,” he says.
He feels Bakugou’s eyes on him as he leaves, but he doesn’t look back.
He tells Recovery Girl about Bakugou’s odd behavior, but she doesn’t find anything, or, if she does, she doesn’t tell Shouto about it. Bakugou is back in class and back in the dorms, despite his quirkless status. At least for now.
If Shouto finds himself fingering his jaw where Bakugou rubbed up against him, he doesn’t mention it to anyone.
Bakugou has been back in class for a little over a week, and he’s been… handsy is the best word Shouto has for it. But it’s only been with Shouto, not with anyone else. It hasn’t exactly been… obvious. It’s the way that Bakugou seems to just want to be around him, the way he seems to just want to be in Shouto’s space. It’s a press of their arms together, Bakugou leaning his head over Shouto’s shoulder, even, on one particularly noticeable occasion, Bakugou putting an arm around his shoulder.
It’s weird but not exactly uncomfortable, just unusual. Shouto simply isn’t used to people being in his space or he probably wouldn’t even notice it.
He gets used to Bakugou being around enough that he notices when he’s not there, and he breathes a hair easier.
“Todoroki, are you going to come out with us this afternoon?” Kirishima asks.
Shouto sits up from putting his book in his backpack and looks up at where Kirishima is leaning over his desk. “I don’t—”
“Todoroki!” Bakugou interrupts, his voice rough and angry, and Shouto sighs internally. “Can I get your help back at the dorm?” he asks.
Exchanging a look with Kirishima, he gives a small shrug. “I’ll meet you if I can,” he says.
There’s a slight furrow in Kirishima’s brow that says he’s not entirely happy about it. Shouto isn’t the only one who has noticed the way Bakugou is around him lately. He’s not sure if it’s reassuring or irritating that it’s not in his head.
“Todoroki,” Bakugou repeats, and he sounds angrier. Shouto rolls his eyes and waves Kirishima off.
“I’ve got him,” he assures, slinging his bag over his shoulder and going to where Bakugou is standing by the doorway.
“Kacchan—” Midoriya tries.
“Did I say I want to fucking talk to you?” Bakugou snaps.
Shouto puts his hand on Midoriya’s shoulder. “I’ve got him,” he repeats. Bakugou grabs his wrist and drags him out.
“Hey!” Shouto is the one to snap this time. “I can walk!” He yanks his arm from Bakugou’s grasp and stops, soothing his wrist. He doesn’t remember Bakugou being that strong.
There’s something wild in Bakugou’s eyes that is setting off alarm bells.
“C’mon,” Bakugou says gruffly, holding himself so tight he looks like he could start vibrating.
“I don’t know that you’re okay.”
“I’m fine! Just… come with me?”
Since it’s finally a request, Shouto nods and lets him lead the way, following him back to the dorms and to his room. He doesn’t expect Bakugou to shove him up against the door as soon as it’s closed.
“What are you—?” Shouto is cut off as Bakugou nuzzles his throat, running his tongue across it.
“You bared your throat for someone else,” Bakugou murmurs against his skin, sending a little thrill of pleasure through him despite the words.
“I did—?”
“For Kirishima.” He stills as he feels Bakugou’s sharp teeth against his jugular. Instead of biting, he sucks the skin into his mouth, teasing it against his teeth but not quite hard enough to make him bleed. He can tell it’s going to leave a mark though. When he lets go, he says, “You’re mine. You don’t show your throat to anyone but me.”
The fuck? It startles Shouto out of his stupor. He raises his hands to push Bakugou away, only to have Bakugou slam his wrists against the door.
“Don’t,” he growls. “You’re mine. I’m going to show you…” He rolls his hips against Shouto’s, and Shouto’s breath catches in his throat when he feels how hard Bakugou is against him.
“Bakugou,” he says, tilting his head back as Bakugou rubs his cheek across Shouto’s chin and neck.
“Fuck, you smell so fucking good,” Bakugou rumbles against his skin, nuzzling Shouto’s collar down to be able to take the muscle joining Shouto’s neck and shoulder into his teeth and mouthing at it.
Deciding to take a chance, Shouto freezes his right hand, and it makes Bakugou yank his hand away with a growl. It only frees him for a moment before he’s spun around and his chest is shoved against the door, Bakugo pressing against him, his cock hard in his pants, rubbing up against Shouto’s ass. The intention is unmistakable, and it freezes Shouto in place.
Bakugou’s hands go around Shouto’s waist, and Shouto can’t help but think, This can’t be real. This can’t be happening, as Bakugou undoes his belt.
“Baku—”
“Katsuki,” Bakugou says against his ear, one hand sliding up under Shouto’s shirt while the other slides into Shouto’s underwear to palm his soft dick. “I wanna hear you say my name, Shouto.” One hand finds a nipple and twists and tugs on it while the other begins to stroke Shouto’s length.
“Stop,” Shouto tells him, trying to ignore the way his body is reacting to Bakugou’s hands.
Bakugou thrusts his hips against Shouto’s ass again, and fuck, he feels big.
“Not my name,” Bakugou says, hands disappearing, only to yank Shouto’s pants down and bare his ass.
“Bakugou!” Shouto shouts, pushing away from the door, trying to turn and look at him. A hand lands on the back of his neck, and he hears the soft chime of Bakugo’s belt being loosened.
“Close,” Bakugou says. The zipper is so loud in the quiet of the room.
What are you doing? he asks himself. You can stop him.
“Shit,” Bakugou hisses behind him. There’s a slick, wet sound that any guy who has ever pleasured himself knows. Panic is beginning to build, his quirk beginning to manifest without his intention.
He was taught better than this, trained better than this, and he shoves backward. Bakugou catches him around the waist and throws him onto the bed, following faster than it seems should be possible. Shouto has a few centimeters on Bakugou, but Bakugou has sheer muscle mass on him and shoves him down.
“Stop fighting me,” Bakugou growls, a hand wrapping around the back of Shouto’s neck. His nails suddenly seem very sharp where they tickle at the front of Shouto’s throat. He rocks his bare cock against Shouto’s naked ass, and it’s slick, somehow, but panic starts to set in—real panic. Then Bakugou says, almost like a plea, “I need you, Shou… Please stop fighting.”
The slick sound of Bakugou stroking his cock again is almost comically loud in the silence, and then one of his fingers starts feeling around Shouto’s hole.
“Please stop,” Shouto says, hating how small his voice sounds.
Bakugou whines, pressing a finger inside. It’s big and strange, but whatever lube Bakugou has, it’s enough to make the simple penetration if not pleasant, at least not painful. “I need you, Shou… Need you. Need you. Need you.”
Something in his voice is wrong, and Shouto dares to turn enough to look over his shoulder and meets Bakugou’s eyes.
Need, raw animal need, is all he sees in Bakugou’s eyes. He’s not seeing Shouto, not really. Despite the hand around his throat, Shouto is sure that he could overpower Bakugou if he needed to, but something is very, very wrong here. Bakugou is not at home behind those eyes, no matter how much it sounds like him.
And really, it doesn’t sound like him much.
Bakugou leans forward, rubbing his cheek over Shouto’s face and neck, any skin he can reach again, even releasing his nape to rub his face along there. “Need you,” he rumbles, almost a purr. “My Shouto. Mine. ” The last word, mine, is almost a growl.
It’s a quirk, Shouto realizes, feeling sick to his stomach as he glances down the length of Bakugou’s body, sees how big his dick is, sees how slick it is. There’s no way he found lube anywhere, which means his own body is producing it. Which is not normal. Which means this has to be a quirk. A quirk they hadn’t been able to find.
A second finger prods at Shouto’s entrance, and he gasps. One finger wasn’t awful, but two feels different, feels like a lot.
“You don’t need to do this,” he says, trying to make Bakugou see sense.
“Need you,” Bakugou murmurs. “Need. Need, need.”
It’s the quirk, Shouto tells himself, shuddering as Bakugou laps at the back of his neck. He could get away, but if he did, what would happen to Bakugou?
Bakugou’s fingers disappear for a moment, but only a moment, before they’re back and this time it’s three. It’s too much. Shouto hisses and tries to pull away, but Bakugou’s spare hand finds his waist and tightens on it, hard enough to bruise.
“Need you. You’re mine. Need to make you mine…”
He can get away, but if he does… where does that leave Bakugou?
“Mine.” The fingers leave him, and Shouto knows what’s coming next. Frost forms beneath one hand as he grips the blanket, but he’s so used to keeping the fire under control, it stays quiet.
It’s his last chance to get away from Bakugou, his last chance to throw him off.
But what happens if he does? What if Bakugou really needs this? No one else will give it to him, no one else will let him do this.
It’s going to hurt. Three fingers hurt, and Bakugou is much bigger than three fingers. There’s the slick sound again as Bakugou strokes himself; then he lines himself up with Shouto.
“Relax for me,” Bakugou tells him, a low, sultry command that, in other circumstances, might have been enticing.
Shouto does his best to relax as Bakugou presses forward, and his body resists harshly. Bakugou’s free hand reaches beneath Shouto to stroke his dick, but Shouto’s not hard at all, and he really doesn’t want Bakugou stroking him. It distracts him enough that his body gives way beneath Bakugou’s insistent pressure. He can’t help the gasp that comes from him when Bakugou stills, stroking Shouto’s hip and his dick.
“D-don’t…” Shouto tries to tell him, but even he’s not sure what he means. Don’t touch my dick. Don’t touch me. Don’t fuck me.
All of the above?
“So good, Shouto,” Bakugou croons, pressing forward more as if he hadn’t heard Shouto. Maybe he didn’t. “So good for me. So fucking tight. ”
Shouto holds his breath, just trying to bear it. It’s just pain; he knows pain. Even if he hasn’t known pain that’s quite this intimate before, it’s just another kind of pain.
Fuck, how long is Bakugou? Why is he still not all the way in?
He feels a nudge deep inside, one that’s so intense, it forces an embarrassing whimper from him.
“Almost there,” Bakugou says, as if it’s a comfort.
“Too much,” he gasps out, breath catching on a sob as Bakugou pulls back a little bit.
“You can do it, Shouto,” Bakugou says in a tone that’s surely meant to comfort but definitely does not. “You’re taking me so good.”
There’s that deep, so deep, nudge again, and again it forces a wet gasp from Shouto. Bakugou doesn’t stop this time though, pushing deeper, till his hips are wedged firmly against Shouto’s ass and he’s so deep, Shouto would have thought it was impossible.
He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Bakugou licks the tears from his cheek.
“You’re doing so good for me, Shouto. So perfect,” Bakugou says in a soothing voice that’s entirely at odds with how not okay Shouto feels.
“Please… stop.” He has to ask. He has to.
Bakugou leans back up, which shifts him inside Shouto, and he can’t stop the helpless sound it pulls from his chest.
“Gonna make you feel so good,” Bakugou says, yanking Shouto’s hips a little higher before pulling back about halfway, then pushing back in slowly, but unrelenting.
It is way too fucking much. Shouto knows people do this for pleasure, but he can’t imagine how. He is way too full, Bakugou is way too deep. It feels like he’s being impaled on Bakugou’s dick, like he’s being tortured. How could anyone ever find pleasure in this?
He gasps, wet, chest-deep sobs with the next several thrusts, even as his body seems to loosen up, even as it seems to get a little easier, then Bakugou catches something inside Shouto that wrings a different gasp from him.
Bakugou chuckles against his back. “There you are,” he says, sounding smug. He pulls out, then thrusts back in, hitting that same spot, and it lights fireworks behind Shouto’s eyes. “That’s it, babe. Gonna make you feel so good.”
Beginning to target that spot in earnest, Shouto soon finds himself shifting back, wanting to meet the thrusts that feel so good when he hits them just right. Bakugou reaches up and yanks at Shouto’s jacket and shirt, sending buttons flying while revealing his shoulders and trapping his arms. Shouto will care about it later. It still hurts and Bakugou is still too deep, but at least the pleasure from that spot—the prostate, his brain tells him—makes it bearable.
At least it does until Bakugou’s thrusts speed up, get harsher, start missing that spot again, feel like they’re bruising him from the inside out. He wants to protest, but all he can do is hold on and suffer through it, hope it’s over soon.
He feels Bakugou lean over him only distantly, and he definitely does not expect Bakugou’s teeth to close painfully on the nape of his while he feels something even larger pressing at his entrance. There’s no way—no possible way—he can take anything more.
Or so he thinks until a particularly forceful thrust shoves the bulb past Shouto’s rim and buries it inside of him. He yells as his entrance snaps around the end of it and it presses hard into his prostate. The continuous pressure overtakes him, and he writhes on the bulb as he comes.
He hadn’t even realized he was hard.
Inside him, he swears he can feel the heat of Bakugou’s own come fill him, swears he can feel it stretch him even deeper inside than Bakugou’s dick reached. When Bakugou strokes his stomach and finds a slight bulge, Shouto realizes he’s not imagining how full it feels.
Bakugou shifts to his side, pulling Shouto with him, and he starts yanking at Shouto’s clothing, trying to get it off.
“Skin,” he says with a kind of desperation. “Need to feel you.”
Dazed, Shouto does as bid, letting Bakugou strip him down, then suffering as Bakugou pulls his own clothing off, seemingly every movement tugging at the huge dick still trapped inside of him, rubbing the bulb up against Shouto’s prostate, continuing to stimulate it until Shouto’s near writhing from the sheer overload of sensation.
Once he’s naked, Bakugou presses his chest along Shouto’s back, wedging his hips together with Shouto’s, and rubs his chin all across every bit of Shouto’s neck, shoulders, and upper back he can reach. His hands stay busy, moving between playing with Shouto’s too-sensitive dick and balls, to stroke the growing bulge in his stomach, up to tweak his nipples and see if he can get Shouto to rock back on the massive bulb in his ass. He doesn’t stop until he manages to drag another orgasm out of Shouto.
By then, the bulb has finally gone down. Shouto is eager to pull away, get away, but Katsuki latches his teeth onto the join in Shouto’s shoulder and begins to thrust again. It doesn’t hurt as much this time. There’s so much come inside of him that it eases the way. Despite how overfull he feels, this time is more pleasurable, and Bakugou manages to make him orgasm a third time on his dick.
Shouto doesn’t fall asleep as much as he passes out with the bulb filling his ass, making it impossible for Bakugou to pull out.