“I want you to choke me.”
It’s something they once discussed in the early stages of their relationship. Back when they were still learning about each other and trying to figure out where exactly they fit together. Shinsou had asked, hopeful and far too excited because it’s something he’s wanted for longer than he should be comfortable admitting—and Bakugou had immediately shot him down.
“No.” Bakugou had said it evenly, and with a finality that made Shinsou’s stomach hurt. “We haven't been together long and what you want requires a level of trust and communication I don’t think we have yet. Plus, it’s dangerous enough without adding my quirk into the mix. Not to mention your own quirk. One wrong move and you’d never be able to use it again, Hitoshi. I’m not willing to risk that.”
It hurt, being denied like that, but ultimately Shinsou understood where Bakugou was coming from and he dropped it. They were heroes, after all, and their own safety and well-being had to come first no matter what. If Bakugou wasn’t comfortable with himself or with the idea in general then Shinsou had no right to push him. But he was hopeful that one day they would get to a place where it was a possibility.
Possibility becomes reality just over two years later.
It’s early morning, serene and quiet with the barest of light leaking through the blinds covering the window just above their bed. Shinsou isn’t a morning person by any means, but being awake this early has its perks. One of them being Bakugou sitting in bed completely naked minus a pair of reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he skims through some reports.
He’s propped against the headboard, the blanket barely covering all of the tattooed skin on display, and Shinsou has a sudden need for the man beside him.
“Morning, lazy fuck.” Bakugou greets, eyes still scanning the report in his hand.
“Mm, morning angel face.” The nickname earns him a look over the rim of Bakugou’s glasses like it always does, and Shinsou grins. “It’s your day off, sweet cheeks,” another look. “Why are you working?”
“Because someone refuses to get out of bed at a decent hour.”
“6am on my day off is not a decent hour, baby cakes.”
That one finally has Bakugou dropping the papers and his glasses onto his nightstand. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, you like it. I think you’re the weird one here.” Shinsou teases as he slides across the minimal space between them to drape himself over Bakugou’s lap.
There are fingers in his hair immediately, a warm hand on the back of his neck, and Shinsou relaxes completely at the touch.
“How are you feeling?” Bakugou asks, voice low as he continues to massage intoxicating circles against Shinsou’s scalp. “You were wiped yesterday. I’ve never seen you crash like that before… was worried for a while.”
Even after four years together, Shinsou is still floored by how much Bakugou cares. He hides it well, so few people understand or ever see this side of him, and Shinsou marvels at it every time—is certain he always will.
“I’m fine,” he looks up, purple eyes meeting stunning red ones so Bakugou knows he’s telling the truth. “I promise, I’m good. Work has just been a lot. There’s just too much going on and not enough heroes to carry the load. It’s… It’s been hard.”
Bakugou hums in acknowledgment, because of course he understands, and Shinsou watches a contemplative look pass over his pretty features.
Shinsou turns over onto his back, letting his head rest in Bakugou’s lap so he can properly look at the man who has single handedly become his world. Shinsou really likes looking at him like this because he knows this version of Bakugou is his and his alone.
The hand in his hair continues it’s idle massage and the one that was on the back of his neck is now pressed reassuringly against Shinsou’s Adam’s apple, fingers pressed into his skin. Bakugou is still looking at him, thinking, thinking… but all Shinsou can really focus on is the hand wrapped around his throat.
He swallows, feeling the movement acutely like he can pinpoint every single nerve ending now alive under Bakugou’s hand. It’s been years since he really thought of this, since he asked Bakugou to choke him and was readily shot down. But suddenly the need is present and insistent, and Shinsou’s body is very, very interested.
“Ka-,” he clears his throat, voice thick with need and nerves, and tries again. “Katsuki.”
That catches Bakugou’s attention immediately, snapping him out of whatever thought had carried him off. Shinsou rarely uses his given name, always some awful pet name or endearment that drives the blond insane. So the instant his name passes Shinsou’s lips, Bakugou eyes are clear, focused, and trained on Shinsou’s face.
“You still want this.” It’s not a question, Shinsou knows that, but he nods anyway. It’s not hard to tell. He knows Bakugou can see how affected he is, see how hard Shinsou is under the sheet barely covering his waist and feel how hard his heart is pounding in his chest.
Yeah, Shinsou still really fucking wants this.
Bakugou’s thumb strokes the sensitive spot just under his jaw, the spot that’s always covered in bite marks and bruises from Bakugou’s mouth and teeth, and Shinsou forgets how to breathe.
“Before… before you said we weren’t ready, and you were right, but… “
“Do you trust me?” Bakugou asks when Shinsou trails off.
“Yes.” He rushes out. Because Shinsou does. He trusts Bakugou with his very life and has no reservations about it in the slightest. In battle, in the bedroom, while Shinsou is tied and chained, or gagged and blindfolded—it’s all the same. Shinsou trusts Bakugou above anyone, and everyone else.
Bakugou takes him in for a moment, he’s so careful, so cautious when it comes to things like this. He’s terrified of hurting Shinsou, and has always made it a point to check and recheck that Shinsou is safe and sound.
But after the moment passes Bakugou nods and Shinsou can see the answer in his eyes.
“Then I’ll do it. For you.”
“Really?” Shinsou isn’t entirely sure he heard right, or maybe he’s dreaming. But Bakugou looks calm, certain, and that makes it real in a way Shinsou never thought he’d see.
“Yeah, if you still want it this bad, then I wanna try… for you.”
“I do, I want it.” Shinsou’s heart feels like it’ll beat right out of his chest. But he’s excited, so, so excited for this and he sits up to kiss Bakugou square on the mouth. “Thank you.”
The time between the kiss and Shinsou being spread out across their bed, Bakugou situated between his legs with two slick fingers up his ass passes in a blur of anticipation and very impatient squirming on Shinsou’s part. Any other time he’d rush and push, irritating Bakugou into giving him what he wants the hard and fast way—exactly how he likes it.
But this time he doesn’t want to rush. Shinsou wants to bask in the tension that settles over them, in the butterflies that are suddenly flying around his stomach, and in the way Bakugou takes his time with every movement and every shift of their bodies together like Shinsou is something precious, rather than an underground hero whose body is covered in countless scars from years of hero work.
“That’s it, pretty boy. Relax for me.” Bakugou breathes into Shinsou’s chest.
His fingers are doing incredible things to Shinsou’s insides, those rough digits slowly working him open until Shinsou is hard and leaking against his stomach. Bakugou’s never done it like this before. He’s never drawn it out this long to the point where Shinsou is already so close just from being prepped.
“ Fuck , angel, im close.” He’d be embarrassed if he were with anyone else, or maybe if he cared enough, but there's not a hint of judgement on Bakugou’s face. In fact, the exact opposite is true—Bakugou looks proud, and that does crazy things to Shinsou’s insides.
“I know. I’ve got you.”
Bakugou situates himself fully between Shinsou’s legs and wastes no time in easing himself into Shinsou’s eagerly awaiting body. He almost cums from that alone, Bakugou not even completely bottomed out yet. But he holds on, breath held captive in his lungs, and uses every ounce of strength he possesses to will always his fast approaching orgasm. He doesn’t want to cum yet, not until he gets what he wants.
Bakugou rocks into him steadily and Shinsou whines pitifully with every inch that stretches him open. He’s got one hand wrapped around the base of his dick and the other holding on to Bakugou’s bicep for dear life. He’s close, he’s so, so close and it’s getting harder to hold back.
“Nu uh, stay with me, baby. That’s right. Keep those pretty purple eyes on me. I want you to look at me when we do this.”
Bakugou’s voice is better than any drug. Shinsou’s eyes are on him in an instant and he’s greeted by the pearly whites of Bakugou’s teeth as he grins down at him. “That’s it. Good boy.”
Shinsou moans and Bakugou’s grin grows wider.
Even though he knows it’s coming, it still throws Shinsou’s world into a tailspin when Bakugou wraps his hand around his neck. His grip is strong, fingers and thumb pressing into the sides of Shinsou’s neck with a steady pressure that’s more comforting than overbearing. He’s leaning into it, the roar of his blood pumping in his ears and the steady rocking of Bakugou’s hips as he slowly fucks into Shinsou’s body.
Shinsou only realizes he’s crying when the ghost of Bakugou’s breath touches his face and cools the wet trail glistening against his cheek.
“There you are. I’ve got you. Eyes on me.” Bakugou reminds him, and Shinsou has to blink past the tears welling in his eyes before he can focus again. “Give me your color, baby.”
The hold on his neck doesn’t change, still that steady pressure that’s grounding Shinsou to this moment and making him painfully aware of his own erratic breathing. Bakugou’s still maintaining that steady pace that’s driving him insane and Shinsou feels so fucking good .
“Gr-green.” He manages to get out, in awe of the way he can feel the vibrations as each syllable travels up his throat to pour from his lips. “Green. Don’t stop, please.”
He’s not ready for this to end, not when it feels like he’s waited an eternity for a moment that feels like it’s only just begun.
Shinsou let’s his arms fall beside his head and the shock and awe on Bakugou’s face is worth every second he’s spent waiting for this. Trust. This is his way of giving it all to Bakugou. He’s surrendering himself as he has countless times before in this very room—only this time, in this moment, there’s significantly more meaning behind it.
Bakugou’s eyes go wide for a moment, taking in all of Shinsou as it’s both the first and last time, and then he’s letting them fall closed. He’s buried entirely in Shinsou’s body, his hand still around his neck, and Shinsou swears he’s seeing Bakugou for the first time all over again.
When those scarlet eyes open again, Shinsou isn’t the only one blinking back tears. The hand around his throat tightens considerably right as Bakugou pulls out almost completely before slamming back in again and Shinsou nearly chokes on the moan that’s punched out of him.
“You’re an awful brat.” Thrust.
“The worst.” Groans.
“Your jokes are stupid.” Trust.
“You like them.” Starts begging.
“You’re so needy.” Fucks him harder.
“Your fault.” Whines .
“And I love you so fucking much.”
“Please don’t ever stop.”