ok maybe temp mute me if you haven’t read gladiator and want to,,, this side story takes place immediately after chapter 17 and there will be spoilers from here on out

here’s the link if you do wanna read gladiator!

(i.e. this takes place right after the public execution)

Kirishima couldn’t quite contain his laughter as Bakugou pulled him along the stone corridors of the palace, clasping his dirty, bloodstained hand in a vice grip.

Both of them were tripping over their own feet as they ran, but Bakugou was contradicting his own eagerness every few steps by stopping abruptly to spin and pull Kirishima down into another kiss.

Kirishima didn’t mind at all; he grinned against Bakugou’s lips, easily lifting him and spinning them around in circles, stumbling blindly and inefficiently towards his chambers - /their/ chambers.

The thought filled his heart, expanding until it pushed at the edges of his chest and welled up from his throat as a muffled laugh.

Kirishima’s eyes fluttered open as Bakugou pulled back from their kiss, a wild grin stretching over his face.

His tongue darted out to sweep across red lips, and he licked the blood from them without flinching, without looking away from Kirishima, as if it tasted of nothing but victory. Kirishima’s gaze tracked the movement, a blush rising to his cheeks as his smile slackened.

“You were amazing,” Bakugou said for what must have been the hundredth time, hopping down from Kirishima’s hold to continue on their way.

“I can’t believe you kissed me,” Kirishima replied, breathless, the wild cheers of the crowd still ringing in his ears. “I can’t believe this /worked/.”

Bakugou’s grin stretched wider, and he looked back over his shoulder at him. The early evening sunlight caught on his hair as they passed a window, illuminating his gaze.

“You think I would’ve gone with your plan if I didn’t know it would work?” he asked, sounding pleased with himself. “Trust me, Eijirou.”

Kirishima smiled at the choice of words.

Bakugou had done his best recently to acknowledge their past and atone for his wrongdoings. Had told the world that Kirishima was his, and that he was Kirishima’s. Had given Kirishima the only thing he had truly ever needed - to be let inside, as his equal.

Kirishima had always loved him. Had always been enamored, amazed by him. Now, he was starting to think he trusted him, too.

“Always,” he replied.

Bakugou’s grin softened to a smile.

He hummed a small noise of approval, and its surprising sweetness let on that he understood the weight of Kirishima’s promise. He squeezed his hand, and then they were there, passing the guards at the entrance of Bakugou’s apartments and rushing towards his bed chambers.

They were kissing again as they tumbled over the threshold, unwilling to let go of each other long enough to properly get into the room.

With a breathless laugh, Bakugou finally pulled away from Kirishima to latch the door shut, leaving him panting, flushed and beaming.

And then he took a moment at the door after it swung closed, collecting himself with a deep breath while his back was still to Kirishima.

It was a habit of his, Kirishima had noticed, to extend mundane tasks this way - shutting doors, pouring water, tying a knot in his robe - stealing seconds alone to think and process, and he wondered whether or not it was conscious.

Kirishima stood waiting for him to return to the present, waiting for his instruction, and he watched Bakugou’s mouth twist into a smirk when he eventually turned back around to find him exactly where he’d left him.

Barely a beat later, the distance between them had closed again, a hand wrapping around his dog tag and yanking him down against soft lips, stained red from kissing, and from the blood on Kirishima’s face.

“You did so well today,” Bakugou purred when they broke apart.

With one hand still holding Kirishima by the collar, he ran his fingers through his hair, and only then did Kirishima realize his braids must have fallen completely out at some point.

Kirishima smiled, leaning into the touch and allowing his eyes to close, just for a moment.

When he opened them, he whispered, “For my Caesar,” and for that, he was graced with the rare sight of Bakugou caught momentarily off guard.

Kirishima used the opportunity to pull him close, until he was flush against his body, where he could wrap his arms around his waist and capture his lips once more.

Kirishima licked into his mouth and it tasted of metal and dirt, but Bakugou only groaned, relaxing against him. Pliant, moulding to him like molten gold, except for his hold on the dog tag, which tightened and drew him ever closer.

They broke apart after a long while, panting lightly. When Kirishima opened his eyes, he saw that Bakugou’s had gone dark with pupil, only thin rings of color remaining.

Kirishima bit his lip at the sight, his body, already overstimulated from the pit, trying and failing to repress a shiver.

Bakugou’s gaze flicked to his chest and then back to his face, missing nothing. Kirishima felt himself redden.

Bakugou arched a brow, just a fraction. Then, with the hand in his hair, he scratched blunt nails over Kirishima’s scalp, and Kirishima moaned softly under the unexpected attention, eyelids fluttering.

“Good puppy,” Bakugou praised in a whisper.

Kirishima’s eyes snapped open and back to his face.

Bakugou met his gaze, clearly searching, scrutinizing his reaction. The analysis wasn’t necessary, though; surely, this close, he could feel the way Kirishima’s breathing had stopped at the word.

Bakugou said it so differently from the way Dabi and Shigaraki had sneered it at him. Kirishima couldn’t help but shudder under his tone, warm, and laced with something proud and protective.

Bakugou’s apprehension seemed to melt away after a moment, and he smiled.

It was supposed to be a smirk, Kirishima thought dimly, but he wasn’t quite accomplishing it; too soft.

His relief was clear and sweet, and even after all the days and nights they had spent together, sometimes the childlike sincerity Kirishima found behind his walls still surprised him.

Bakugou spoke, breaking him from his thoughts. “I have a gift for you.”

Kirishima blinked, forehead wrinkling slowly as his brows drew together. His lips twitched into a smile, but then Bakugou stepped away from him, and he had to will himself not to pout at the loss of contact.

“A gift?” he asked, trailing after him with needy hands, unwilling to stop touching him completely.

Bakugou said nothing, and Kirishima wrapped his arms around his waist as he stopped in front of his vanity, pulling a small package from one of its drawers.

Bakugou turned in his hold, then wiggled out of it, extending the parcel to Kirishima. It was thin, and when Kirishima took it from him, he noted the surprising weight of it in his hands. He quirked a brow at Bakugou, whose face gave away almost nothing, as usual.

“Open it,” said Bakugou, a quiet command.

“Alright.” He carefully unwound the wrapping.

Inside he found gold - a long chain. At one end, there was a large golden ring, thick and solid and engraved with the Imperial symbol, like his collar. At first glance, it looked like a bracelet, but its shape was imperfect, with a series of ridges forged into one side of it.

The piece vaguely resembled the body jewelry the Imperial whores wore, and Kirishima tilted his head in confusion. He knew Bakugou had never liked his whores in too much gold.

“What is it?” he asked.

“On the bed, pup,” Bakugou ordered, reaching out and taking the golden circlet into one hand. Supporting the chain with the other, he fished the jewelry from the parcel completely. Then, he met Kirishima’s gaze again. “Kneel for me.”

Kirishima felt his body react to the words, and he pushed his uncertainty aside, along with the wrappings of his gift.

He did as he was told, unlacing his sandals, kicking them off, and climbing onto the mattress, aware of Bakugou’s eyes on him all the while.

Once there, he turned, and rose to his knees in front of his Emperor for the second time that day.

Bakugou followed, standing at the edge of the bed.

For a moment, they shared a long look. There was hunger in Bakugou’s gaze, desire burning low and steady, but there was also an air of calculating patience about him that he usually lacked in his bed chambers.

Like he wanted to take his time, to savor this.

Like… like he wanted to take Kirishima apart slowly, piece by piece. A predator ready to play with his dinner before sinking his teeth for the kill.

Kirishima shivered in anticipation.

Only when Bakugou stepped forward with the golden jewelry did Kirishima notice the heavy clasp on the other end of the chain, balanced between Bakugou’s fingers.

Before he could ask how to wear his gift, though, Bakugou placed a steady hand on his collar and pulled him close, and Kirishima forgot his question as he waited for his lips.

They didn’t come.

Instead, Bakugou fastened the clasp to the loop that held his dog tag, then retreated.

As chain stretched between collar and golden circlet - a handle, Kirishima now realized - he understood.

Heat flooded his face, and his cock responded automatically, even as his eyes widened.

Bakugou raised a brow, hiding his own uncertainty almost perfectly. Almost. “Do you like it?”

Kirishima let out a sharp breath, then swallowed, taking a minute to remember how to speak as the implications crashed over him like cold water.

‘Yes,’ he wanted to say.

He wanted to say ‘yes’, to point out the obviousness of the answer. To remind Bakugou that he had just declared to the Colosseum, to the Empire, and to the gods themselves that he belonged to him.

Eventually, he gave up and just nodded instead. Bakugou‘s lip quirked in satisfaction.

“I thought you might,” he said, and then, without warning, he closed the distance between them again, grabbed the chain near his neck, and jerked him forward.