Thread by @MmeHatter

Shōta hasn’t gone undercover in 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴. But one of his former students is in trouble and they need a top stealth operative with notable experience successfully infiltrating the mafia.

“When did he go dark?” Shōta asks.

“We lost contact with Dynamight three months ago.”

#AiBaku #Shinzawa #ShinBaku
Cw: age gap, rough sex, dubcon, everyone’s gonna fuck each other eventually, and maybe some feels??? i dunno

disclaimer: this is kind of an insane brainrot 🤣🤣 i don’t know what’s going on. it’s mostly porn. some plot. which you should ignore LOL

“You’re a yakuza leader looking to form an alliance,” the police chief says. “We’ve already arranged a meeting.”

“You promised me a second,” Shōta says.

“I did.”

The door opens and another Pro enters with a smug look that Shōta knows all too well.

“I quit,” Shōta drawls.

“But, you’ve worked together before,” the police chief points out.

“Regrettably.”

“He won’t admit that I’m his protege, but I am,” Hitoshi says, taking a seat. “I was made in his image.”

Shōta stares blankly. “I created a monster.”

“Made in your image,” Hitoshi repeats wryly.

The police chief sighs. “Will you two be able to put your egos aside for a greater purpose?”

“I suppose.” Shōta hands Hitoshi the brief. In all honesty, they make a great team and Shōta highly respects Hitoshi as a pro. But, Shōta is already dealing with one problem child.

Two might compromise the job.

Or at the very least give him a headache.

“Reconnaissance, I assume?” Hitoshi asks, flipping through the brief. “We’re just confirming his whereabouts?”

“No,” the police chief says. “Once you locate Dynamight, extract him by any means necessary.”

Shōta and Hitoshi exchange glances. A rescue mission. Which means Katsuki is either hurt or in danger. Or worse.

A few days later, Shōta and Hitoshi are ushered to an exclusive dining area in an elite nightclub by some yakuza thug. They’re asked to have dinner and wait.

“Nervous?” Shōta murmurs before taking to his wine glass.

Hitoshi rolls his eyes. “What makes you think that?”

Shōta places a hand on Hitoshi’s knee. His leg hasn’t stopped shaking since they sat down. “I’m sorry I won’t be able to protect you in there.”

“Worry about yourself, old man. I can protect myself.”

“You are absolutely insufferable.”

Hitoshi’s unable to hide his grin behind his highball. “Everything will go as planned.”

“Mmm.” Although it’s not the plan Shōta would have gone with, but the yakuza leader refused to meet without an 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦. A sign of good faith.

It’s a trade. One right hand man for the other, to be held overnight and returned in the morning by the yakuza leader himself.

“Do what you can to find out where Bakugou is,” Shōta reminds him and Hitoshi’s rolling his eyes again, “but be careful about using your quirk in front of the boss. Use what little charm you have to get on his good side.”

“I 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸. I didn’t shave my pubes for nothing.”

Shōta chokes on his wine. “That’ll charm him.”

“He better appreciate it.”

They finish their dinner and twenty minutes later, another thug reappears.

“I’m here to escort Jun to the boss’s room.”

Shōta looks at Hitoshi and nods. Hitoshi stands and gives him a reassuring smile, but it does nothing to calm his nerves.

But, this might.

Shōta snatches Hitoshi’s wrist and tugs until their lips crash in a passionate, open-mouth kiss that they rehearsed a dozen times this week.

Although it would have been a dozen more if Shōta didn’t have the self-restraint. Especially when Hitoshi kisses back the way he does.

“Behave,” Shōta whispers.

“I can’t make any promises,” Hitoshi replies with a coy look that’s more for show.

“Insufferable.”

Hitoshi leans in for another kiss, which Shōta returns, then follows the random thug across the room.

As soon as they disappear into the crowd, a body slides into the vacant seat Hitoshi left behind.

Shōta’s eyes widen.

“Yusuke?” Katsuki asks in a soft, smooth voice that Shōta hardly recognizes.

Albeit there’s very little Shōta recognizes. Not surprising given that Katsuki’s undercover, but the hair throws him off. Long and pulled back into a bun, one side shaved, and a dirtier blonde than he’s used to.

However, the thing that throws him off the most is the smile. Close-lipped and warm, reaching ruby red eyes.

“Yusuke?”

Shōta blinks. “Yes. Sorry, I don’t mean to stare.”

Katsuki wrinkles his nose and chuckles. “I’m flattered. It’s okay, I’m used to it.”

Shōta blinks again. He can’t decide if he’s more shocked or impressed, but Katsuki’s delivery is impeccable.

“Did you enjoy dinner?” Katsuki asks, taking a sip from Shōta’s wine glass.

Right. Back on task. Shōta clears his throat. “We did. Very much.”

There’s the smallest flicker in Katsuki’s eyes. “Good. He’ll be happy to hear that.”

Shōta studies him carefully. It’s strange seeing Katsuki play a role so submissive and obedient. Frightening, even. “I’d like to be alone with you. Do you wanna head to my hotel?”

Katsuki looks over his shoulder and nods to someone who Shōta assumes to be a guard. “I have a car waiting in the back.”

~*~*~

“Look at the view,” Katsuki says, walking across the suite to pull the curtains open.

Shōta observes him. He expected Katsuki to drop the act the second they were alone, but he hasn’t let up and Shōta wonders if Katsuki is just being difficult or if they’re still being watched.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Katsuki says, glancing over his shoulder. “Something wrong?”

Shōta walks over, face neutral. “Arms out.”

“What?”

“Arms out,” Shōta orders. “Legs apart.”

Katsuki sighs and spreads his arms in a T-pose so that Shōta can pat him down.

Shōta’s thorough searching every inch of clothing for any bugs or recording devices. When he comes up empty, he stands in front of Katsuki and reaches for his hair.

“You mind?”

Katsuki shakes his head, undoing a button on Shōta’s shirt. “Be my guest.”

Shōta ignores the touch, even though it does things to him, chalking it up to whatever persona Katsuki’s playing. Instead, he pulls Katsuki’s bun loose and slowly threads his fingers through his hair.

Katsuki hums contentedly, eyes rolled back, and Shōta decides to do it again.

“You could have just asked me to strip,” Katsuki whispers, undoing another button. And another. “We’re gonna end up there anyway.”

Shōta’s certain that Katsuki can feel how fast his heart is pounding right beneath his fingertips.

Part of him knows this is just an act and another part of him doesn’t really give a shit, the want building in a tight heat below his belly.

“You seem so sure.”

“I’m always right.”

Hmm. Shōta swallows thickly, letting Katsuki’s fingers untangle the rest of the buttons on his shirt. “Are you the type to cause me any trouble?”

Katsuki snorts. “I think we both know the answer to that.”

𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺. There he is. “Bakugou."

“Sensei.” Katsuki looks up at him, fiery red eyes boring into him, matched with a cheshire grin. “What the hell did you do to your hair?”

Shōta flinches. It nearly killed him, chopping his hair off for the mission. Luckily, they let him get away with a crew cut.

“Don’t remind me,” Shōta says, running his fingers through his hair. He waits for Katsuki to put some kind of distance between them, but he doesn’t and Shōta finds that he can’t step away either. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Katuski says, tying his hair back up. “What happened?”

“You went dark.”

“I became the boss’s right hand. He has his entire inner circle on a tight leash.” He finally steps back to draw the curtains close and Shōta takes a seat on the sofa, reclining back.

“Did they send you in to check in on me?” Katsuki asks, kicking Shōta’s leg lightly.

“No. They sent me in to pull you from the mission.”

“The hell you are.”

Shōta looks up at Katsuki, who’s standing right in front of him with a death glare that’s all too familiar.

“You can’t just ignore the authorities.”

“I’ll do what I want,” Katsuki growls, loosening his tie. “You tell the cops to back off. They almost blew my cover twice. I’m getting answers 𝘮𝘺 way.”

Shōta frowns. Alright, maybe the submissive and obedient version wasn’t terrible. “Bakugou—”

“Don’t. I’m not going.”

They fall into silence. Theoretically, Shōta could take him by force, but as stubborn as Katsuki is, he’s also intelligent and calculating and clever.

If there’s a reason he’s so hellbent on staying, it’s probably a good one.

Shōta tugs the bottom of Katsuki’s shirt. A small gesture he hopes Katsuki understands as compassion. “At least report in.”

“No way.”

Katsuki interprets the gesture as an invitation and Shōta can’t seem to stop him, not when he’s climbing in his lap, effortlessly slipping back into his persona. “Besides, they won’t return your exchange unless I go back to them.”

His exchange. 𝘏𝘪𝘵𝘰𝘴𝘩𝘪.

Shōta’s chest tightens as Katsuki unbuckles his belt and Shōta still can’t for the life of him will a single muscle to move. “Should I be worried about him?”

Katsuki smiles, that warm, close-lipped smile, and runs his fingers through Shōta’s hair.

“You always cared about him differently from the rest of us.”

Shōta closes his eyes, relishing in the feel of Katsuki’s fingers dragging across his scalp, releasing the tension in his body. He can feel Katsuki’s breath on his lips and Shōta’s eager to close the gap.

“Didn’t quite peg you to be the jealous type,” Shōta whispers, eyes fluttering open.

Katsuki leans in, pressing their foreheads together. “You serious? That’s half my personality.”

Shōta chuckles, but it’s cut short and by surprise with a tender kiss.

(TBC)

👀 in my 1am haze, I managed to write two versions of the next installment. Which one do you want?

Slow and gentle like a lover, lips impossibly soft, the kiss truly is 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳, even though that is not a word Shōta would ever use to describe Katsuki. It’s soft and warm and slightly dizzying and god only knows how long Shōta’s waited for someone to kiss him like that.

“Sensei,” Katsuki whispers in a single breath before their lips are connected again. “Why’re you holding back?”

Shōta didn’t realize he was, although he can probably think of a million reasons why, but not at this very second when he’s pinned under the weight of Katsuki’s gaze.

“Stop,” Shōta manages to whisper.

“Stop what?”

“Trying to distract me from doing my job.”

“𝘕𝘰,” Katsuki says in a low guttural tone that sends a shiver down Shōta’s spine. “𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 the one distracting 𝘮𝘦 from doing my job.”

He slides a hand over Shōta’s growing boner, twitching just behind the open zipper, and Shōta selfishly hesitates for a few brief seconds before snatching Katsuki’s wrist.

“Bakugou, we shouldn’t—”

Shōta’s cut off by another kiss and this time it’s open-mouth and needy. This time there’s a moan on Katsuki’s lips and the taste of sweet vermouth on his tongue and Shōta wonders how far he can bend the rules without actually breaking it.

He imagines pretty far.

“You don’t gotta hold back,” Katsuki whispers, cupping Shōta’s face, forcing him to meet his gaze. “S’fine. Let go.”

He captures Shōta’s lips again, attempting to coax some sort of reaction, but Shōta’s mind is racing, wondering if this is okay, wondering how much they can get away, wondering if the commission would call it unprofessional and wondering if he actually gives a shit.

“Aizawa,” Katsuki groans, rolling his hips and Shōta’s thighs clench at the feel of Katsuki’s clothed hard-on against his cock. “Fucking kiss me like you mean it.”

He rolls his hips again, harder this time, and Shōta decides he really likes the feel of that, so he says 𝘤'𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘷𝘪𝘦, grabs Katsuki by the shirt, and kisses him.

He can feel Katsuki’s grin pressed against his lips, a nonverbal ‘𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳’, and it’s 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦, Shōta supposes, because now they’re grinding against each other, his hands latched tightly around Katsuki’s ass.

Katsuki continues to roll his hips forward. He’s relentless and Shōta finds it infuriating, all that pleasure trapped beneath layers of clothing, the friction numbing his brain with each grind, the fabric between them drenched with precum.

“Fuck,” Katsuki mutters. He leans back just enough to get a view of their laps, bracing himself on Shōta’s knees.

Shōta’s leaky cock had slipped out of his slacks at one point and Shōta freezes, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

“Fucking hell,” Katsuki breathes, pulling out his own cock and aligning it with Shōta’s. He begins to water at the mouth, slaver hitting the tips of their cocks, and Shōta rolls his eyes back in pleasure as Katsuki uses two hands to rub their dicks together.

It’s mind-numbing, the way Katsuki strokes their cocks, and Shōta can feel the knot winding in his stomach, ready to snap. God. Is it supposed to feel 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 good? How amazing would it feel squeezing his cock right between Katsuki’s thighs?

“Bakugou,” Shōta pants. “Wait.”

“Little—𝘩𝘯𝘯𝘨—more.”

Shōta moans as Katsuki’s hands move faster and it takes every last bit of energy to snatch his wrists. “Wait. I’m—I’m not doing this.”

Not this way.

Katsuki pauses with an irritated look and, to Shōta’s absolute shock and horror, slides off and fixes himself before heading towards the door. “Suit yourself.”

Shōta gapes, stunned that he’s giving up so easily. He clambers off the sofa and rushes after him, zipping himself up along the way. “Where exactly are you going?”

Katsuki turns around with a bland expression. “You said no, didn’t you?”

Shōta blinks. Well, damn. “I did, but—”

“Look, Aizawa, this is an exchange,” Katsuki drones, jabbing Shōta’s chest with a pointed finger. “One night where I can finally get a dicking from someone other than the big bad boss himself. A 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵. 𝘚𝘰. If you’re not going to fuck me, I’m gonna find someone who will.”

Shōta places a hand on the door before Katsuki could reach for the knob. At this point Shōta knows that Dynamight’s not leaving until he sees the mission through, but he doesn’t have to act reckless.

“This is the one night you don’t have to play the part," Shōta says. "The only night you can take a break. Just stay put and relax. I’ll return you tomorrow.”

“You don’t get it. You don’t think the psychopath 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘴? He’ll know what happened or didn’t happen here."

Katsuki sighs. "I gotta give him some sort of proof.”

Shōta stares. “Tell him I’m a gentle lover.”

“A gentle yakuza leader,” Katsuki scoffs. “Like he’ll buy that.”

It’s silent as Shōta watches Katsuki, waiting for the opportune moment to ask. He supposes this one is as good as any. “Who is he?”

There’s mischief in Katsuki’s smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“Not without some collateral,” Katsuki says, leaning close and lightly pressing a knee between Shōta’s thighs.

Shōta sucks in a breath, the knot below his belly twisting again.

He’s running out of reasons to stop Katsuki’s advances and he’s running out of resolve as well, especially when Katsuki reaches into his pants and starts stroking him. It’s all Shōta can do not to crumble right in front of him.

“What do you say, sensei?”

“God, you’re such a little shit,” Shōta murmurs before wrapping a hand around Katsuki’s neck and crashing their lips together.

This time Shōta is all but gentle. He can’t afford to be, not when Katsuki’s yakuza actually checks for marks.

So he squeezes Katsuki’s neck just enough to leave a bruise and he has to admit, he kind of likes hearing the strangled noises Katsuki makes when he does.

“Fuck, love that you know how to do that,” Katsuki chokes as Shōta drags his mouth across his jaw. “Got me hard as fuck.”

“How far can I go?” Shōta whispers in his ear.

“You know firsthand I can take a beating. I ain’t gonna cry at the first sign of blood.”

With that, Shōta bites, teeth sinking into Katsuki’s shoulder, and Katsuki yelps out as Shōta sucks a bright red mark on his skin.

He leaves about half a dozen more on Katsuki’s neck and collar, drawing blood on occasion.

“Oh fu—mrghh,” Katsuki mewls into Shōta’s mouth as Shōta kisses him. When they pull apart, there’s a disoriented look on Katsuki’s face. “How do I taste?”

Shōta snorts, unzipping his pants. “Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing.”

He places his hands on Katsuki’s shoulders and guides him down until he’s on his knees, facing Shōta’s hard cock. Katsuki only grins and glances up, tongue hanging out lewdly.

“I’ve always admired you for being so headstrong,” Shōta says, slapping his cock against Katsuki’s tongue. "Stubborn. Commanding."

He cards his fingers through Katsuki’s hair before sliding his dick between Katsuki’s perfect lips.

Katsuki’s head tilts back as he swallows Shōta whole, eyes watering.

“But, honestly, this is where you should always be,” Shōta’s murmurs, fingers curling tightly around Katsuki's long hair. “On your knees with my cock in your mouth.”

Shōta starts to thrust, impressed that Katsuki’s able to take him so well on the first try, but not at all surprised. He hates to think how many dicks Katsuki’s endured undercover, but for tonight, this mouth, this throat, it’s 𝘩𝘪𝘴 and he’ll fuck it dry.

“God, I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” Shōta groans, feeling Katsuki’s hot throat close up around his cock. “You’re gonna make me cum in no time.”

A wet, but somewhat muted, sob escapes Katsuki’s lips and Shōta yanks, tearing his head away just to give Katsuki a second to breathe.

But, only a second.

“Get that mouth back over here.” Shōta shoves his dick back inside Katsuki’s mouth before he’s finished coughing, and Katsuki just 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘴 him, lets Shōta fuck his hollowed cheeks until he cums. “Fuck—you gonna do the decent thing and swallow for me?”

Katsuki manages to glare at him behind the dazed look in his eyes, but he swallows anyway. Every last fucking drop.

“Jesus, Bakugou,” Shōta breathes, slumping onto the bed. “How the fuck did you do that?”

“Practice.”

There’s movement below him and Shōta looks up to see Katsuki hovering over him, naked from the waist down, hair sticky and damp, and goddamn if that view doesn’t make Shōta hard all over again.

“Fuck me, Aizawa,” Katsuki demands in a low voice, climbing on top of him. “Fuck me.”

Shōta gulps, his cock twitching in anticipation. They should probably stop. Every rational bone in his body is telling him they’ve done enough. This is enough for the yakuza leader.

But, not for him.

“Bakugou,” Shōta says, slipping his arms around Katsuki’s waist. “You know we don’t have to do this, right?”

“But, don’t you want to?” Katsuki asks, reaching behind him for Shōta’s cock. “Or are you too prideful to admit you do?”

He presses Shōta’s cock into his ass and both of them gasp at how easily it slides in. Shōta bucks his hips up involuntarily and it feels so 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 that he forgets to be considerate and just starts fucking. Slamming his hips so hard that Katsuki’s whimpering.

“God, even when you’re prepped, you’re still so fucking tight,” Shōta grunts, clawing at Katsuki’s ass, fucking him as hard as he can. “This ass is just…sucking me in…𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬.”

“How—you find it—so fast,” Katsuki gasps. “That—that spot 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦—you got it, fuck.”

Shōta aims to hit it every damn time, if not just to hear Katsuki beg for his cock, which he does with such beautiful desperation and Shōta swears he’s going to cum again before Katsuki even finishes.

“God, I’m close,” Shōta breathes as Katsuki starts to bounce on him in an attempt to chase his own arousal. “I’m close, Bakugou.”

“Don’t you fucking 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 about pulling out.”

Shōta couldn’t if he tried. Luckily, Katsuki rides him a few more blissful seconds before he’s moaning and cumming on Shōta’s stomach. Shōta’s mind goes blank as he rides out his second orgasm, filling Katsuki’s insides with cum until it drips out of him.

“Holy shit.” Shōta closes his eyes, still dizzy from the pleasure. He shifts but his body fails him, limbs heavy with exhaustion. “I’m too old for this.”

Katsuki snickers, climbing off. “I can tell, you barely lasted ten minutes.”

“That was only ten minutes?!”

Shōta feels a pair of soft lips on his and he instantly melts into the kiss.

“Take it easy, old man,” Katsuki whispers. “I’ll clean us up.”

Shōta doesn't have enough strength to roll his eyes, so he does as he’s told and drifts to sleep instead.

Partly dreading what the morning will bring, but also secretly hoping that when he does wake up, Katsuki will be curled up beside him.

When his alarm goes off the next day, Katsuki is gone.

But, Shōta isn’t alone in bed.

“Hitoshi?”

(TBC)