Archive of Our Own

9 years old is when that fucker started teaching him how to run the empire. 

Long, nimble fingers tapped the end of the cigar on the sooted rim of the ashtray.

 Tick...tick....tick...tick

The windowsill rattled with each harsh blow of the stormy wind. The roaring pitter-patter of rain drowning out any semblance of serenity in the small office. It muffled the pen clicking, the papers rustling, his deep breaths. Everything except the obnoxious ticking of that fucking clock . Eye twitching with every indication of the minute hand moving, Shouto breathed and leaned back into his chair. 

Then he stood up. 

Rage and annoyance are great adjectives to describe what he was feeling right now but only one word makes his arms shake as he pushes himself up. All it takes is that one word for him to get the urge to destroy everything in his sight, regardless of who or what it is. It’s been like this for 5 years now and he has a nasty habit of picking up bad habits. 

“...fucking incompetent piece of shit you are. You ain’t fit to run an empire, and you never will be. That was a test Shouto! Your own mother poured boiling fucking water on your face and you just took it for what it was! Spineless coward and a shit-eating maggot of a son is what you are. Had you not gotten your other brother killed that night, maybe he would’ve been better—“

The memory twists in Shouto’s heart like a knife and it stings—no, it fucking burns. His left breast sizzles with a singeing flame and it feels as if only that side is lit on fire. Yet strangely enough, the air is too cold when he breathes. His nostrils turn sore after inhaling the frigid air and it makes his lungs rattle and ache. This isn’t the first time this has happened, nowhere near it. He knows a sure way to get rid of the irk but first, he has some business to attend to.

“Iida, I’ve changed my mind. Kill that fucker.”

The indigo haired male jumps slightly at his thundering voice in the silent room. He’d been quietly standing by the door waiting for Uraraka and Tokoyami to return with a message from a newly-partnering broker. The idiot had bitched out and stole 200 kilograms of Shouto’s pure cocaine that he worked hard to get. On top of that, the asshole wasn’t even selling it for profit! He was going to use it all for himself and instead sold the cheap cut shit that you could get from any neighborhood crack dealer. That is what pissed him off—the fact that a donkey of a dealer thought he could rip him off and ruin his reputation. 

“Are you sure boss? The association he’s affiliated with won’t take it too kindly. Shouldn’t you demand he pay his debt or strike a deal close to-“

“Are you fucking deaf, Iida? I said what I said. I want his severed head on my lap now. Send the Hounds to do it. I’m sure they’ll come back giddy about finally being able to do a job.”

Iida swallowed, nodded his head and made a turn to open the door. He swung it open and was scurrying out when a thought came across Shouto’s mind.

“Wait, Tenya. Send the Mad Dog as well, I want our genius broker over there to suffer.”

Iida finally leaves the room and Shouto loosens his tie. His fingers are itching to do something while he waits but the little drawer next to his right ankle is calling his fucking name. Sliding his chair back, he reaches down to open the compartment and he’s met face to face with his little bag of happiness. That Mineta kid was a creep in the flesh but boy did he know how to make something look appetizing. The small plastic bag was tied with a golden ribbon so elegant that you’d think there was something akin to magic in the bag. Unfortunately, no anti-aging powder, but there were a couple of grams of pure coke inside and that was enough for him. 

He sat the baggy on his desk after making enough space and dug around for his favorite line-maker. His mother’s old maxed-out credit card was an odd object to line up cocaine with but in Shouto’s twisted mind it was the only thing he could use. 

 19 years old is when that bastard left him alone to take care of the empire. 

His hand jerked as if he touched something unpleasant and a disgusting chill takes over him. He doesn’t know why he’s been thinking about his old man these past few days. When the geezer was alive, he never once thought about him or his feelings, Shouto’s sure of it. To him, Shouto was always the bastard son who never grew a pair and when he did, he was being disrespectful to a “King.” 

“Why am I the failure when Touya left us for a rival gang?!”

It’s suddenly become harder to breathe and Shouto knows he’s screaming in an empty office to no one in particular but he’s just so angry . His whole life has been based around this shit that they call a family when he wasn’t even originally supposed to be the next heir. They’d had someone capable enough to run it but sold them out and joined forces with a gang who had bad blood with them for generations . Father never once batted an eye upon hearing the news but the one son he had left, the who actually stayed with him...was the only one dead to him. 

Because Shouto killed his brother.

No.

It wasn’t his fault. Father was the reason for Natsuo dying. All the agonizing pain that he felt in his last moments was because of the old fucker and his idiotic pride. If only his father had shown some emotion when Touya left—an ounce of anger would’ve been just enough. Instead, he put on some facade as if he wasn’t bothered. 

Natsuo went out looking for him the next night. Shouto saw him moments before he left the penthouse but for some reason, he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t utter a word and that’s how it was for the entire time they stood there, staring at each other. He didn’t give any indication of where he was going when he finally turned around and left, but deep down, Shouto knew. He should’ve stopped him, he should’ve told him to calm down and think things through but he didn’t. When Izuku called the penthouse that night and gave the news, Natsuo had—

Shouto knows that it’s wrong to speak ill of the dead but he can’t help but hope and pray that Enji Todoroki is burning in the darkest depths of hell right now. The mere thought makes him straighten his back and almost puts a smile on his face. 

“Fuck you.” 

Shouto muttered to himself, hopefully, for the last time. He can’t rebuild this shitty empire while constantly reminiscing on what could’ve been or what should’ve been. It was time to face forward and in the end, he decided that it didn’t matter whether the family was successful or not. If it was, he would happily float with it and if it wasn’t…

He’d burn with it. 

Every piece of furniture—every painting and every curtain.

Down to the people inside and those infinitely tied.

       He  would  dance on  the embers  until his feet  bled and only when  the flames reach his  toes, will he stop to  spread his arms and embrace  the end. 

Katsuki clicks the safety of his glock 19 back on and whistles when he eyes the room. Kirishima is finishing off the last of warehouse staff while Ashido and Kaminari are checking pockets for money or some new fucking drug they’ve been calling, “goody twos.” He turns around just in time to see Sero pulling the trigger on some bimbo trying to crawl away. She looks like an assistant or some shit but Katsuki doesn’t care enough to figure it out. The bullet embeds itself into the back of her head milliseconds before the spray of blood covers the nape of her neck. There are some chunks of brain and whatnot but that doesn’t bother him anymore. 

He won’t admit it but the first time he had to do a job like this he was sick for days. Every night in his room was spent violently retching into his black porcelain toilet at the memory of lifeless corpses. The stench of blood clogged his nostrils for weeks, regardless of what he was doing. His ears would ring and buzz from the after effects of hearing so many gunshots in a single location and at one point he’s positive he went partially deaf. 

He’s adapted a lot more and that’s for sure. He ain’t never had it easy so when he’s sent off on jobs like this he finds it easier to take out whatever bone he’s got to pick on the fuckers he’s got to kill. They’ve got to die anyway so why not give ‘em a show? It’s been that way the past 7 years he’s worked underground and with the newly assembled “Hounds” he’s earned himself the title of Mad Dog. The name speaks for itself and any bastard willing to fuck with the boss, knowing that they could be targeted by the second most feared hitmen in the underground must be retarded or crazy. 

That seems to be the case for this Shigaraki fellow but the guy looks so cracked out that it must be the latter. His lips are disgustingly chapped and his face is fucking sunken like the Titanic. Frankly, he’s ugly as shit and Katsuki hates it because when they’re about to die they only get uglier. Nothing disgusts him more than staring a pig in the eyes as they’re squealing for their life. 

“My family won’t like this! You’ll b-be digging your own grave!”

Speak of the fucking devil. The guy is hacking and hissing on the ground in front of him. Katsuki is quickly becoming agitated with the motherfucker because he’s smirking at Katsuki as if he didn’t witness his entire staff get massacred by the Hounds. Katsuki doesn’t like bugs and he especially doesn’t like filthy, squirming maggots. 

“Dunce-face, hold him still yeah?”

Kaminari slides over with speed and lifts Shigaraki by the hairs on his head to a kneeling position. The front of his chest is soiled with blood from a bullet wound that he got from trying to hide behind a wooden desk panel. He won’t bleed out for a while so Katsuki is being nice and ending it sooner rather than later. He pats around in his breast pocket for his hunting knife and pulls it out. The tip glints beautifully when hit by the fluorescent lights and a delightful shiver runs down his back. He then drops down into a crouch so he’s level with the cunt.

“Listen here, dickhole. I don’t give a shit about whatever you’re talking about. I’m here to do a job and you were dumb enough to get yourself caught up with us, you hear? If you weren’t such a chicken you wouldn’t have gotten caught stealing shit from the boss.”

Katsuki stands back up and signals for Kaminari, Kirishima and Ashido to return to the car. As cold-blooded as they are, he knows that even they can’t handle seeing something of this caliber. 

“We’re done here, you guys can go back. Me and soy-sauce here are gonna see if this chicken can run without its head.”

He doesn’t wait for any verbal affirmation, he raises the knife to Shigaraki’s neck the moment he hears three pairs of footsteps heading in the opposite direction. He tilts the guy’s head up at an angle and breathes. 

Inhale.

Exhale.

This part is always the easiest. The hunting knife is gliding through the fatty meat of his neck and he saws and saws until he can’t anymore. Below him, Shigaraki is a screaming and gurgling mess; every yelp is accompanied by an outpouring of blood. 

What happened next was quick and smoother than what Katsuki was anticipating. When met with the awaited obstacle, he pressed down and dragged his wrist across. He pressed until he shredded his windpipe like a sheet of paper. His blood gushed into the air into a thin mist that covered both Katsuki and Sero’s hands.

One more flick of the wrist and it was done. The chicken had been beheaded and he’d squawked until the very fucking end. He dropped the knife and pulled back, fingers twitching yet rejuvenated. The body slumped forward with a thud but the head comically stayed suspended above in Sero’s right hand. Katsuki took out his phone with his clean hand and snapped a picture so he could send it to Iida. Giddy and relaxed, he followed up the picture with the words, “The Mad Dog bites again.”

Shouto twirls around in his chair once more, a complete giggling mess. He’s down to the bottom of his coke but he feels like he’s on top of the fucking world. His high hasn’t shown any signs of ending and if it weren’t for the fact that he was someone of status and largely targeted by a majority of the underground, he’d be running in the streets stark naked because he felt like it. The last two hours have been nothing but a big blur and he can’t even recall much of what happened.

Earlier he thinks Momo might’ve come in asking for another quick fuck but he wasn’t in the mood. He vaguely remembers her sucking his dick in an attempt to sober him up but eventually she got annoyed and left. He chortles at the thought and soon he’s clutching his stomach in crazed laughter. It only dies down when he gets a notification on his phone from Iida. He doesn’t need to unlock it to see the thumbnail of a head and only a head. This wakes him up a little and he starts to panic a bit. 

He can’t possibly be feeling this good right now when he’s out here tarnishing everything his family has built up, right?

Fuck, his high is crashing. He fumbles for the bag but it tips over and disperses on the side of the desk and the carpet. His nose twitches at the sight of it but it’s no use now. Feeling slowly starts to creep back into him while the last of the liquidated powder drips down his throat. Once it’s over, he'll be left alone with his thoughts again and that’s not something he’s not ready to deal with so soon. Maybe he’ll go find Momo again and apologize so they can fool around—anything is better than his suffocating mind.

He stands albeit having only 30 percent of strength in his legs and hobbles over to the door. He listens closely first, trying to locate anyone that would embarrass him if they saw him in this state. After proving quiet, he steps out into the corridor and sighs. The gold railing hurts his eyes and the smell of floor polish is much too fresh for his sensitive nostrils. He could make it to his room faster if his legs weren’t half dead so he’s stuck dragging his left leg along until everything comes back to him. 

It’s not until he gets into the middle of the corridor that he hears the ding of the elevator a few paces behind him. Shouto curses under his breath and tries to straighten up but it’s no use. No amount of downplaying can hide the fact that he is fucking high as a kite. 

He doesn’t turn around, instead opting to wait for whoever it is to announce themselves. The footsteps come closer and from the dull taps he can tell it’s a man but from the slight scuffling against the tile he can pinpoint exactly who it is. Only one person in this entire facility drags their fucking feet against these expensive ass tiles-

“Boss you look buzzed as hell.”

The familiar gruff voice rings into Shouto’s ears and his lips automatically form a plastered smile.

“The Mad Dog as perceptive as usual, yes? Good job today, never have I been disappointed by your handiwork.”

“Wish I could say the same for you.”

Shouto freezes. The words were said clearly, boldly and deadpan...yet somehow he felt like he wasn’t hearing them correctly. Most people would think twice before even muttering a hello to him so why…?

“Excuse me? Might I ask what you mean?”

The tension in the air is now tangible and a heavy feeling sets within Katsuki‘s stomach. He knows he’s stepping out of line but it seemed as if no one had bothered to properly say anything, so of course he was going to be the first. The Todoroki family had just made another enemy, one arguably more dangerous than the last. It’s been this way for a few years now but recently it’s been getting out of hand. If something doesn’t change now, he’ll end up digging them into some irreversible shit. 

“I’m talking about you fucking up from left to right. I typically wasn’t one to question your judgement but you’ve been getting sloppy.”

Shouto’s eyebrow quirks up but he doesn’t turn around yet. He wants to hear more. A sinister feeling creeps around his heart and it stays there. Licking his lips before he continues, he pries some more. 

“You think I’m being sloppy? My my, that’s no good. I assure you as the highest ranking member of this family I’m doing my best-“

“Cut the bullshit boss. You and I and everyone else here knows that you’re putting us in some hot water. You’re 26 years old but when you get into one of your moods, everything goes to shit.”

God, he’s never been good with words but Katsuki only knows how to speak one way. Straight to the point and low-blows were the only communication skills he was taught. It might get him killed right now but hopefully something will click in the boss’ mind after he’s tossed his body in the Musutafu river. For a while, maybe 2 or 3 minutes, the hallway is dead silent. Katsuki was so deep in thought that the sudden words from his superior spooked him.

“Then what do you suppose I do?”

This appears to be the question that no one can answer, otherwise, there would’ve been a response years ago. Katsuki hadn’t necessarily thought of a genius way to solve all their problems but he knew that the way his boss was currently doing it was never meant to be an option. He had only worked under the late Todoroki for about two years before he died but from what Katsuki could remember, it was nothing as bad as this. That in itself was because he never expressed any major weaknesses. 

The man seemed to be made out of steel. His stone cold expressions never seemed to change that often or at all. When he was pleased he would verbally tell you and when he wasn’t satisfied you could feel it in his demeanor. He conducted business this way as well and through that method he became feared yet respected. The current Todoroki always expresses his disinterest in something and even though his face is very plain and similarly unchanging, you can always see whatever he’s thinking in his eyes. 

“I...I think you could start by doing what your father did. Enji didn’t show what he was thinking with his e-“

Katsuki doesn’t know what happened in between the beginning of his sentence or the end. His mouth kept moving but his body hurt. He thinks he might have gotten a concussion from back at the warehouse. Someone smashed a big ass vase on his head so maybe that’s why the back of his head is stinging and his vision is black. There is a hand around his throat, but why is it there? Whose hand is that? 

His idle thoughts bounce around in his dizzying head while the spots in his vision start to clear up. When he finally comes to, there’s a gun being pointed at his head and dread hits his gut like a freight train. His mouth is suddenly dry and his tongue goes numb because on the other side of the barrel is Todoroki. 

“...his name! Don’t you ever say his fucking name you hear me?”

The pulsing in Katsuki ears make it hard for him to hear anything the male is saying but he pushes through and nods once. The grip on his neck loosens a bit but the hostility in his boss’s voice has shivers racking over his body. Katsuki’s never been this close to death before but the thought causes a deep churn in his stomach.

“If you utter even a piece of his name I’ll kill you. I’ll shoot your legs and arms just to watch you squirm and you’ll beg me to end it sooner.”

Shouto doesn’t recall moving from his spot but when that man dared to say his father’s name aloud, the .9 millimeter in his pocket felt a lot better in his hand. He wishes he could hold off his temper long enough to realize that killing off his best man would profoundly be the worst thing to do, but it’s proving harder the longer he looks at those lips that spoke that cursed name. 

“Do it.”

What?

“What’re you looking all confused for? I said do it, fuckin’ amaze me! You getting cold feet, boss?”

Something feels off…

Something feels dangerous . 

There’s another obvious shift in the air but it’s suddenly less hostile. It’s more breathable than before but that doesn’t make it safe to inhale. There’s a line begging to be crossed here but neither knows what. The air is crackling and chests are puffing but Shouto isn’t one to back down. 

“You’d better watch what you say, there’s too much going on in my head right now. I’ve got my .9 hovering in front of your face, bet I could really blow your mind.”

Ignoring the threat disguised as a pun, there’s a voice telling Katsuki to stop now while he’s ahead but his pride won’t let him back down. He’s not one to fuck around when cornered and he’d rather take a bullet to the face than walk away with his tail in between his legs. The thing is—there was a shift in Todoroki eyes, something much different from when he first hemmed him against the wall. A flare of something familiar appeared for only a moment when Katsuki stood his ground. 

“You’re obviously looking for a reason that’ll make me wanna run and hide away, yeah? I’m telling you I ain’t gonna do it.”

 24 years old is when he realized he didn’t  give a flying fuck about what happened to this  shitty empire. 

“I’m not fucking around. You’d better get back in line or catch this bullet in between your teeth.” 

Shouto’s hand has a slight tremor and he knows Bakugou can see it. He could blame it on the post-cocaine recoil but Bakugou can probably see right through it. He’s certain when the defiant look in Bakugou‘s eyes kicks up a notch. He can feel it when the male takes an earth-shattering breath. He can see it when the hitman leans forward and wraps his plump lips on the barrel of the gun. 

And maybe…

Maybe it’s because he never got off when Momo went down on him earlier—or maybe it’s the side effects of doing so much coke in one sitting but Shouto is stiffening in his pants rapidly. With the way he’s positioned, Bakugou’s knee is placed neatly on his crotch and Shouto is aware that he can feel it. It’s in the way Bakugou smirks around his mouthful and pokes his tongue out to stretch across the bottom of the barrel. It’s apparent in the way he hollows out his cheeks to bob his head down as he gags lightly on the metallic taste of the gun. 

It’s obvious in the way he hums contently while sliding off with a pop before licking his lips and grinning at Shouto. 

“Just who do you think you are?”

The question is asked jokingly but it comes out more seductively than what Shouto was intending. It just might be the lust clouding his brain but he thinks he feels Bakugou grunt when his fingers dig just a tad deeper on his neck. 

“I’m the Mad Dog, Bakugou Katsuki. Who the fuck’re you?”

With this, Shouto knows that Bakugou is down for this as much as he is. He can’t stop the sinister feeling from swirling in his gut just like he can’t stop the smirk from showing on his face when he leans forward. 

“Bitch, I’m the man.” 

The door to Todoroki’s private room opened so quickly that the door-stopper did nothing to muffle the loud bang that erupted in the large space. Katsuki had never stepped foot inside this area so he glanced around as much as he could while Todoroki was moving to shut and lock the door. Even with his hazy vision he could see that the room was neat and pristine but just like its owner, the in-closet gun shelf strictly gave off “I am not to be fucked with” vibes. Any further thoughts about his surroundings were cut off when Todoroki spun him around and pinned him to small work desk beside them. 

“Easy there tiger, you don’t treat important documents like this do you?” Bakugou taunted, gripping the slightly taller male’s shirt collar. Shouto clicked his tongue in mock-annoyance,  not at all a stranger to the blond’s coy talk. As the resident Kingpin he has intel on everyone who steps foot into this building and he’s certain that Bakugou is all talk. He figures it’s best to take action than respond whole-heartedly to his subordinate’s paltry comments. 

“I don’t stick my dick in important documents, smart-ass.”

Katsuki would scoff if the statement wasn’t followed up by an arousing growl and sinful bite to his earlobe. He wouldn’t dare admit it aloud but his hips began to move on their own accord. Seeking any form of friction, he wantonly ground his clothed crotch against the fine material of his superior’s slacks. For someone that was ready to kill him earlier, Todorki’s lips were undeniably soft as they trailed along the side of his neck. A small sigh escaped his own lips when the male mouthed along his collarbone. 

“Oh? I’ve never heard a Mad Dog whine before, let’s see if we can make you howl.”

An unexpected burst of pleasure erupts from junction between Katsuki’s neck and shoulder blade and he can’t stop his airy moan once Todoroki’s teeth come in contact with the soft skin. Another shiver racks his system and his body temperature shoots beyond its limits. Goddamit, he’s panting like a bitch in heat but Todoroki is suddenly standing a lot closer than before. If he angles his body right he could reach his...

“Ah, fuck! Do that again you bastard.”

Shouto’s lips quiver in excitement from how responsive Bakugou is being. Even if the blond doesn’t verbally say that he’s feeling good being cornered like this, his body is giving away all his tell-tale weaknesses. He doesn’t waste time with littering the shorter man’s neck with nips and kisses, relishing in the poorly contained whines that come after the occasional harsh bite. Shouto is really getting a kick out of having someone so dominant and hard-headed openly submitting to him like this. He begins to think he has some sort of power-play kink, but then he remembers that Bakugou is one cocky motherfucker. He wouldn’t surrender himself like this if he wasn’t one hundred percent sure that he’d have some kind of upper hand or trump card in all of this. 

Practically foreshadowing this moment, Shouto doesn’t notice the calloused hands trailing across his lower back until it’s too late. One downward swoop of his hand into the gap between his shirt and his belt and Bakugou has the gun handle in his grasp. Unfortunately for him, one must have inhumanly fast reflexes to survive at the top so there isn’t even a second before Todoroki removes his hand and replaces it with his own. 

There’s a gun behind pointed at him for the second time that night but he knows Todoroki won’t shoot him. If he couldn’t pull the trigger the first time then the second and third time is no different. Katsuki wishes he could say the same about the uneasy adrenaline forming in his gut but the thought of what could happen makes him weak in the knees. His mouth is dry again and Todoroki is saying something to him but all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart in his ears. He hasn’t taken his eyes off the gun yet and the safety isn’t even off but his teeth chatter from being within such a close proximity. Todoroki’s hand angles it downwards a few degrees but the slight movement is enough to make his dick jump in his pants. Katsuki isn’t sure why it took him so long to realize it but the sight of the gun being so close to him is making him fucking—

“...aroused. Holy shit, Bakugou Katsuki is a little adrenaline slut.” Shouto huffs.

It’s now blatantly apparent with the way Bakugou’s cock is steadily hardening with each turn of the pistol in his hand. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that Bakugou would be into this type of play but ultimately he’s more amazed than anything. Slowly, he lowers the gun so that it’s aimed and pressed flush against the hitman’s cock. Bakugou is eyeing the gun but Shouto is watching him and the way his breathing becomes erratic. It’s so enticing to see him so sexually worked up over something he’s killed hundreds of men with. 

Faster than what he can register, Shouto watches in awe as Bakugou’s hips come up to further meet the edge of the gun. It happens again and again and again before he realizes that the bitch is humping the gun with fervor. Something primal awakes in Shouto and he doesn’t hesitate when he sits the gun down and tugs at Bakugou’s belt buckle. It’s a quick gesture meaning “off, now” and Katsuki gets the message. He unsnaps the buckle and shucks off his slacks with breakneck speed and underneath, his medium-gray boxers are terribly soiled, but he doesn’t look embarrassed—not one-bit. 

Shouto takes it upon himself to help with the task and unbuttons Bakugou’s shirt but instead of removing it completely, he slides the sleeves down to his wrists. Next came the boxers and there was little to no mental preparation before Todoroki slid the soaking material down and off his muscular legs. There, curving along his stomach, was Katsuki’s cock swollen and bobbing from being neglected for so long. The sight alone was a punch to older man’s gut and the urge to touch and destroy only became stronger the more he stared at the partially veiny girth before him. 

Finally loosening his tie, Shouto slides to his knees and lightly strokes the other’s dick, lips parting as a bead of pre-cum spills over and cascades down the underside. He’s obviously done this before but he’s always careful with new partners so he licks the head of his dock tentatively before wrapping his lips around the throbbing heat. Katsuki stiffens under his feather-like touch and once again it’s almost baffling for a mafia boss to be holding anything, let alone a person, this delicately. The feeling of warmth encasing his manhood sends his body into hyperdrive again and if it weren’t for the two hands steadying his hips, he would have bucked right into Todorki’s throat. Next, he feels a tongue circling around his tip before the wet heat travels further down his shaft. It’s sensual enough for him to moan into his free hand while the other grips the black locs of his employer. 

“Goddamn, who woulda guessed the feared leader of the the Todoroki family knows how to suck dic- nngh!”  

Shouto shuts up the rest of the remark with a deep chuckle that sends delicious vibrations to Bakugou’s core. He leaves no room for recovery as he takes him down to the hilt and stays put, allowing himself to gag hungrily on his cock. His actions are met with a string of ill-delivered curses and a shaky “come up already, asshole” but his attack is not done yet. He comes up shortly for breath, a string of saliva connecting tip of his tongue to the tip of Katsuki’s dick, and plunges right back down. His head bobs skillfully and he uses both his hands to further part Bakugou’s thick thighs. His cheeks hollow out as he descends and with his nose buried into the neatly trimmed patch of pubic hair, he swallows around the length. 

He glances up for the first time since he’s gotten down there and observed the blond’s face. His chest and neck are already decorated a prominent red but his cheeks have become a shade so rosy that it’d put any of his past female partners to shame. Katsuki is looking down at him with plump, spit slicked lips and Shouto wants nothing more than to wreck the man beneath him. He wants that big stature begging and writhing at his feet, but more importantly, he wants to be the only one that can make this bastard feel this way. Perhaps it’s a habit carried on from youth but Shouto always broke his toys whenever he played too rough with them and Bakugou Katsuki was no exception. 

Like a machine, Shouto began alternating between taking him into his mouth, stroking his shaft, and fondling his balls in order to hear those melodic sounds. With his hand dutifully hooked under the back of Bakugou’s thigh, he spread the man even further and pushed him backwards so that he would have to hold himself up on his elbows. The loud squelching, suckling and smacking bounced around the room and back into Katsuki’s ears, succeeding in edging him closer to the end. His eyes never left the godsend lodged in between his thighs and he prayed that this wasn’t some fantastic once in a lifetime dream. The knot his stomach continued to build up while his back ached from holding this tortuous position, but he would endure it for Todoroki’s mouth felt too damn good. The surreality of the situation was making his head swim with unfinished thoughts and he only had seconds to give any indication that he was cumming. 

“D-dammit! O- oh fuck!” Katsuki’s mouth fell open in a silent scream as his thighs locked up, forcing his hips to fly upwards. His vision was barely clear enough for him to see the thick white ropes shooting from his softening cock. His entire body shook violently and he would’ve been able to properly enjoy his post-orgasmic bliss if that bastard Todoroki wasn’t still milking him for all he was worth. The mafia boss was holding his convulsing body down with one hand while the other continued to jack him with an increased speed. Katsuki’s thighs quivered from the over-sensitivity and his feet felt like pins and needles. Just before he could curse out the asshole again, his breath flew out of him in a moment of instantaneous shock. 

Shouto had parted Bakugou’s cheeks with his free hand to reveal his pink fluttering hole. Like a moth drawn to a flame, he leaned closer to it and wrapped his lips around the puckered muscle. He sucked on it with as much force as he could muster and drew back with a loud smack. This seemed to be the final straw for the squirming man and his voice cracked upon his final shout of pleasure. Bakugou’s hips rose and fell in unison with his breathing and Shouto quietly watched in awe as clear liquid spouted from dick. His own cock twitched and jumped below him as he observed Bakugou’s reddened cheeks and listened to his enchanted grunts of “fuck yeah” and “holy shit.” 

He didn’t know when it happened but he was giggling hysterically into his clean hand and swirling the hot release that pooled on Bakugou’s stomach with his other. He hadn’t even cum once yet he seemed to be sharing the aftershocks of the other man’s orgasm. A feeling akin to a warm blanket draped itself over his burning heart and even if just for a moment, he thinks he’s experiencing true happiness. The touching moment is shattered completely when a hand wraps around his neck, forcefully pulling him up and wringing him like a chicken. 

“Are you trying to humiliate me? It ain’t gonna be pretty if you are.” Despite the sudden malice dripping off of Bakugou’s tongue, his eyes were half-lidded as if he was struggling to keep them open and his words were being dragged out into a near slur. 

Bakugou Katsuki had lost this fight a long time ago.

Shouto doesn’t care to listen to whatever else the blond male is spewing. He’s been in this profession long enough to know what talking out of your neck is and frankly he didn’t want to hear it. So that’s exactly what he said.

“Shut the fuck up,” Sharp, unblinking, coy. “...and come over here so I can plow you into the matress, hm?” Katsuki’s next  statement is cut-off into a breathless whisper and his hands fall limp at his sides. No one had ever told him, the great Katsuki, to “shut the fuck up”—yet he was strangely aroused by it? He thinks that maybe it’s just his fuzzy head and adrenaline filled body making his insides churn in arousal, but he can’t ponder anymore because Todoroki is already leaning onto the mattress of his king sized bed. 

As if guided by some invisible leash Katsuki peels himself off of the sticky work desk and sloppily lays into the arms of his pursuer. Todoroki wraps his arms around him gently allowing him to catch his breath and for a moment everything is deathly quiet. 

“I’m sorry.”

Katsuki’s heart starts jackhammering in his chest. This is the worst he’s ever been scared this entire night and that’s really saying something. Swears, curses, threats and sinful grunts are the only things that anyone in this profession has ever heard come from the boss’ mouth but never an apology. This walk into the unknown is making Katsuki’s stomach churn unpleasantly yet that doesn’t stop him from asking why. It takes a few moments for Todoroki to get his words together but when he speaks he’s as confident as he is sincere.

“I haven’t been doing the best for this organization and I know that but this shit is hard when you’re doing it all alone. My old man left behind an impossible legacy to carry on and the more I screw up the more I want to run away from the shit-hole.”

With the atmosphere suddenly calming down, Katsuki can think more so he drinks in all of Todoroki’s words as fragile as they come. He tentatively twirls his index finger and thumb around the end of Shouto’s tie. His mouth opened before he could catch himself and his tongue practically moved on autopilot but as weird as the words sounded coming out of him, he couldn’t find the strength to deny them. 

“Then do it. What are you waiting for? Pack a bag and get out of here...technically no one is forcing you.”

Todoroki stops his mindless stroking on Bakugou’s leg for a fraction of a second before continuing. A glint of a smile appears on his handsome features before disappearing completely but this break in character was enough information for Katsuki to know that he’s seriously contemplated it at one point in time. 

“While that does sound nice, I’m essentially too useless without a mob standing behind me. The only reason I’ve survived this long is because I have a quarter of Tokyo doing my bidding. If I were to step foot outside of this building without anyone backing me...I’d literally be dead.” He stops to run a slender hand through his tousled hair. “Unless you’d be willing to join me.”

His tone is playful, doubtful and condescending all at once but Katsuki takes it as the most serious offer he’s ever given him. He releases his boss’s tie from his hands and places them on his shoulders, now straddling him with a new determination.

“I would. Just say the word and I’ll leave all this shit to go with you. I’ve never really hated you, just the dumbass choices you made. You’re literally the only other bastard I’d give my respect to.” With this, Katsuki pushes their foreheads together, deepening this moment of vulnerability. Neither moves immediately and the space between their lips is so tantalizing that it makes Katsuki want to scream. He’s not bold enough to close the distance but he’s also not patient enough to let this moment slip. Just when he’s made up his mind to go for it, he feels the rumble of Todoroki’s chest before he hears it.

The man is full-on laughing with an expression so whimsical it makes Bakugou’s heart swarm with warmth. A small grin finds its way to his face as he watches tears gather in the corner of his superior’s eyes and for a hot second it feels like he’s floating—weightless and airy. 

“That’s priceless! The two most wanted men in the Todoroki empire running away to start a happy life together. You know what? Okay, let’s do it. I’m gonna get a big-ass briefcase of shit and we’re gonna hightail it outta here. But at least let me fuck you first.”

Katsuki is looking at the ceiling before he realizes it and Todoroki is above him, already discarding whatever he had left to take off. Shimmying out of his dress-shirt, Katsuki watches carefully how Todoroki slips his boxers off to reveal the gem in between his legs. Beyond neglected, his cock forcefully springs up and out, literally slapping against the canvas of his abdomen. The scene keeps playing somewhere in the back of his mind making his hole flutter with a need so powerful.

There’s a condom and a bottle of lube laying on the bed and Bakugou decides that he doesn’t like one of the two items. He picks up the Magnum and tosses it off the side of the bed like a spoiled child with broccoli. Shouto raises his eyebrow with mock concern but it ultimately didn’t matter to him in the end. The lube is cold when he pours it onto his middle and index finger but the man below him is tough, surely he could handle it. 

“You know when I think about your attitude from from earlier I get really pissed off.” 

Not even giving Bakugou time to register his statement, he bites down harshly on his left nipple while simultaneously plunging his fingers into his puckered hole. Katsuki thrashes on the large bed, overwhelmed and surprised being extreme understatements. Volume control is clearly not an option at this point because his moan could probably be heard all the way from the elevator. 

The slick wet sounds of Shouto prodding his anus with his large calloused hands occupy the room as well. Bakugou’s cock steadily jumps back into action at the delicious movement but it’s almost as if he’s missing a certain spot on purpose. Confirming his suspicions, Shouto only grazes his prostate and even then the touch is too light—not nearly enough to calm his inner whore. Todoroki’s mouth, however, is picking up whatever slack his fingers leave behind. Katsuki’s back arches further off the bed with each suckle and bite on his chest and nipples. The electrifying feeling of a hot, wet tongue roaming him makes his head swim with pleasure.

“Q-quit playing around asshole. All this teasing- mmfh is doing me no good.”

His complaint is short-lived the moment Shouto shifts his mouth up to his lips. This kiss has more meaning than any of the previous ones and the way their tongues collide then explore then collide again draws a grunt from each of them respectively. A third and fourth finger sneakily make their way next to the first two and this time they’re unrelenting to the blond’s sensitive prostate. He breaks the kiss only to yell out in ecstasy because of the sudden pain and pleasure bombarding his senses at once. With a few more stretches, his legs begin to shake and he can feel a coil building up in his stomach but he does not want to cum like this. 

“Stop, stop, stop! N-no more, I don’t want to yet...not like this dammit.” Katsuki’s plea is heard and all four fingers gently slide out of his posterior and grab ahold of the lube bottle that had been cast to the side. Surely Todoroki must be aware of how enticing he looks while slicking his rod up with the slippery substance, toned arms and veiny hands thoroughly coating and stroking his girthy length. His forehead which is matted with beads of sweat and loose strands of hair accompanied by his heavy breathing and rippling chest only enhanced the fact that he looked like a god. 

“I’ll give you exactly what you want on one condition. Tell me who I am.”

Bakugou is entirely to aroused for word games right now. His brain is to busy lagging like a computer using Windows 7 to even ask what he means by that. He merely grunts and shakes his head because it’s the only thing he’s capable of doing. 

“No, sweetheart that’s not gonna cut it. Think real hard about it, who am I?” Shouto’s hand slithers up suggestively and finds its way around Bakugou’s throat. It stays in place but the longer he doesn’t answer, the tighter it squeezes. The progressive lack of oxygen is doing wonders for Katsuki’s cock but not so much for his memory. He vaguely wonders if he’ll be choked out and on his way to hell where he will finally figure out what the hell Todoroki meant. With his mind moving 100 miles per minute, he gets a flashback to where this all began, the corridor by the elevator. Ah, yes this kinky fucker above him just adores the power position.

“Y-you’re the—“ Shouto’s hand reflexively closes around the younger’s throat, accidentally cutting him off in excitement. Once he loosens his grip, he orders Bakugou to continue. 

“You’re the man.”

Shouto breathes in audibly. He takes his other hand and grips his cock. After a few shallow pumps he lines it up to Katsuki’s entrance but only that. He commands him to say it again. 

“You’re the man.”

This time, Todoroki’s tip slips in ever so slightly and the ghost of a stretch in lower half has Bakugou’s thighs trembling in anticipation. He clenches down on whatever he can to avoid losing it but this only succeeds in drawing a groan and a warning growl from the mafia leader above him. Even through the ringing in his ears, the blur in his vision and the restlessness in his loins he can hear Todoroki commanding him to say it again. Desperation is an absolutely sinful look on Katsuki and he knows it.

“ Fuck! You’re the fucking man and anyone who says otherwise ain’t got half the grit you have.”

He’s dead. 

He must be. He can’t breathe and there’s an immeasurable pressure in his stomach. He can’t fucking see, cant fucking hear and he’s lost feeling in all of his limbs. There’s no other feeling that can resemble this so he must be dead right? Katsuki starts to wonder if the ceiling caved in and crushed them both for being disgusting, murdering homosexuals but everything comes back full force and he’s left screaming into the abyss. 

The exact moment his vision came back as did his hearing and well...every other sense he had lost within the first minute of being utterly plowed into. Todoroki is fucking into him with a speed so ridiculously fast, you’d think he was in a poorly written fuck-or-die trope. The lewd schlops and schlips that rang out every time Shouto pulled out and pressed their hips together chuffed every sexual fantasy Katsuki had ever had. 

Todoroki himself found it hard not to lose himself in the plush, wet heat of Bakugou’s ass. He wouldn’t dare admit it aloud but he hadn’t felt this aroused in a while let alone with a man. Without the condom he could feel every groove and bump that attacked his cock with their silky and supple mold. Katsuki looked practically divine beneath him; tanned legs spread, mouth open and eyes rolled damn near to the back of his head. Not to mention every harsh thrust was met with an equally responsive squeak of his name and a string of mindless curse words after it. 

With his legs pushed so far up, his chest had no choice but to swell up to compensate for the tough position. Todoroki had never considered himself a tit man but the beefy hitman had a nice pair of pectorals begging to be toyed with. After a simple whisper for Bakugou to hold his own legs, he takes his right hand and presses it as far as he can into the malleable muscle. The light blush on his partner’s face deepens the more he kneads and prods with his thick fingers and the high pitched moans he emits only spurs him on. 

Todoroki slows down to a moderate pace only to bask in the glow of their conjoined pleasure. His change in pace doesn’t evoke the crestfallen face he thought the other would make, but instead they stare deeply at each other, suddenly reaching for something more intimate then sex. Bakugou releases his left leg and links it with Todoroki’s left hand, running a thumb over it before squeezing it with fragile affection. They don’t speak but their tongues do all the talking when Shouto leans down to entwine their lips. They sigh and moan into each other’s mouth in a weird harmony that didn’t exist before. 

“God, it’s hard to be sweet when you feel this damn good.”

Todoroki flips them over so that Katsuki is now straddling him. There’s barely any room to breathe before he’s gripping the man’s slender waist and bucking up into him with renewed fervor. In this position, Bakugou can feel him even deeper than before and it almost becomes too much for him. His cock is bouncing with each thrust but his legs are already burning with the strain of keeping himself upright. He tries to leans back onto Shouto’s legs but it only drives his thick length deep into him and he cries out as a shiver attacks his senses. 

Drool is falling from the corner of his mouth yet he can’t be bothered to wipe it. He’s never been drilled like this before but he can’t help but want more even if there’s nothing else left to give. Every brush against his sweet spot has him seeing literal stars and he thinks if he had a sharpie he could trace the fucking Big Dipper. Beneath him, Todoroki is giving praise after praise, calling him a “good boy” and how he’s “taking it so well” and normally shit like this would piss him off but right now all it does is cause another bead of precum to form and cascade down his dick. 

“I’m gonna cum soon ‘cause you keep fucking clamping down like some slut.” Shouto’s voice is gruff now as a result of being close to the edge. It honestly takes everything in him not to bust first but he really wants to witness Bakugou crumble. He takes his large hand and wraps it around Katsuki’s cock, collecting whatever moisture he can from the tip and spreading it along the shaft as he strokes. The response is immediate and pleasing to the eyes and ears. 

“Shit- mmf! You cheating, dirty motherfucker- aah! I-I’ll get you f-for this.”

How he has the nerve to put up a fight that he’s long lost is beyond Shouto but it only makes his quest to fuck and destroy more apt to work. With his free hand he grasps a nice handful of Bakugou’s ass in his palm and gropes the flesh before pulling back and slapping it with all his might. This rips an inhumane squeal from Katsuki but he doesn’t even have time to be embarrassed about it because another yelp-inducing slap makes it way to his ass cheek. 

“Hurry up already, you cock-hungry assassin. Your legs are shakin’ like some bitch in heat.”

Katsuki’s defensively stubborn nature refuses to give in. He’s not to be ordered around like some cheap fuck toy! Don’t give in, don’t give in, dontgiveindontgive—

“Cum on my dick like the whore you are.”  

Holy. Shit.

Bakugou’s mouth flies wide open and his entire body locks up like he’s pulled a muscle. His toes curl and his fingers dig into the flesh of Todoroki’s thighs leaving red marks that would be visible to Stevie Wonder himself. With Shouto’s hips still coming up violently to meet his and a hand still pumping his dick with a vigor so delicious, his orgasm shoots out of him and snatches his very soul in the process. He watches, mesmerized as the thick, white release covered his own chest and abdomen but another brush against his prostate had him tensing up even more and shooting some of his sticky fluid onto his own chin and lips.

Todoroki’s cock managed to stiffen at the sight of Katsuki painting himself with his own cum. The grip his insides had on his dick was almost as  suffocating as it was pleasurable, and with his mission completed he saw no reason to hold back. His hips stammered and stuttered as he attempted to chase his own release while buried deep inside of the sullied hitman. He grunted deep and low before he felt his balls empty out into the slick hole surrounding him. 

The air still hung unbearably heavy even after the tension had faded away along with the effects of their peak. It was almost as if there was something that needed to be said but now was not the time for speaking—at least not yet. Not when they were embracing each other as if they only had mere minutes left to be together. Not when it felt like they were teetering on the edge of existence and something greater. 

Not when it felt like everything they talked about would just be glossed over as the heat of the night.

                 26 years old is when he finally felt his fear of being alone...

End.