Chapter Text
He knew he was a complicated person; he'd been told that enough times throughout his life not to.
There was something running through him from the moment his quirk began to manifest. It was clear it would be explosive, it matched his quirk, ¿no? It was clear that he would be explosive if the person who raised him, his mother, was as explosive as he was, ¿no?
At first, his quirk was great. He received praise for everything he did, no matter what it was. He used to look up to All Might, all his fights—all his wins, of course, because he was him, the number one hero, the symbol of peace. He wanted to be like him, just as strong, and win no matter how adverse the circumstances. With a quirk like his, he could be.
He would be. He would be even stronger than him.
But no matter how strong he wanted to be, no matter how hard he tried, he was weak.
It became clear to him the day that damn Deku reached out to him as he fell into the lake.
Deku , he thought, savoring that acidic word in his mind.
That day, no one had doubted that he was fine, no one worried, because he was strong; but of course, Izuku was the exception to the rule, reminding him every day, just by looking at him, he realized how weak he himself was. He reached out, genuinely concerned for his well-being, as if he were weak, as if he were going to get hurt.
That day was the day he realized he was weak, very weak.
But no matter how much he said or did, Deku kept going chasing him forreach him, like a constant reminder that he couldn't let his guard down and that he had to try harder, since he was always trying to outdo him. He'd even told him to kill himself, damn it, he was out of his mind.
Now, they ran side by side.
Deku was having a hard time. The useless guy who told him he didn't have a Quirk was having a hard time. And so were all his classmates, the four-eyed guy and the half-and-half.
His instability and poor emotional control were already enough before he entered UA, but upon entering, everything he had left was destroyed. He wasn't even that strong, that smart, or that skilled. He was still better than most, but it was a never-ending competition, one he doubted he'd win.
He still remembers the sports festival, how he won in the eyes of the world, but in his own eyes, he had lost. The useless half-and-half saw him as so weak that he didn't use fire on him, and at first, he fainted; Uraraka, with her trump card up her sleeve, almost destroyed him, almost. They booed him, called him a villain, and a bunch of other shit he didn't want to remember, but it ate away at his brain day and night, so much so that he thought it would fry like Foolface.
He had declared that he would win, and that he would be the best of all. He had backed himself into a corner.
And then they chained him up like a fucking dog without taming the critical eye of the media and the heroes who had previously booed him on national television.
This led to the fourth hero calling him to intern with him. He tried everything to change his attitude, but he doubted he'd ever met anyone as stubborn and proud as him. He couldn't achieve anything with his tight jeans and hairstyles that required pounds of gel to control his crazy hair.
In the end, it was a completely useless week, and his other classmates had moved on, leaving him behind.
But however useless it may be would acclaim that had been, Best Jeanist had helped him start to see the world a little differently, he hoped that the next time they had internships or practices, they could fight too, he wanted to see the very number 4 hero in action, by his side. Yes, the heroe had dug deep into the blond's heart with a few simple words.
He turned his gaze to the blackboard in front of him and refocused on the class Midnight was teaching. He hurriedly took notes and scolded himself for not paying attention; since he was supposed to be the best of all these idiots, if even the damn grape-head paid more attention than him, well, when he looked at him, he realized he wasn't paying attention exactly to class, suppressed a grimace of disgust, and forced himself to stop rambling and pay attention again. Wait, what were they studying? Oh, surrealism.
As the first hours of the day passed, he and his gang of idiots headed to his academy's beloved cafeteria. While his friends discussed their classes, he rambled on, as he had been doing lately. Kirishima had approached him several times a week to ask if he was okay, concerned about his health, and assuring him that he could count on the group, and more specifically, on him. The boy was incredibly loyal, special, and everyone noticed; how the redhead had struck a chord with Katsuki.
He analyzed his friends carefully.
Kirishima made eyes at the pink alien.
The dumbface was making eyes at ears
And the soyface looked beyond his table, to a table of girls from 1-B.
Okay, I understand , he thought.
He felt slightly out of place; so much love seemed repugnant, unnecessary. It was a distraction from his goal, a goal he'd pursued for as long as he could remember. But he caught himself, as he had many times before, thinking how wonderful love would be, to have someone to love you, someone to love.
He loved winning, but maybe winning didn't love him that much. Not with all the losses he'd been taking lately.
Soon his stomach closed, for his thoughts were eating away, so much so that it overwhelmed him brutally. He stood up from the table, apologizing to Kirishima, and making obscene gestures to his friends who reproached him for abandoning them, and he didn't know what else. It didn't matter.
He walked through the hallways, empty of noise and people, which made him even more nervous. He needed air, so he guided his feet toward the endless stairs that led him to the rooftop. Even though the door explicitly stated that students weren't allowed, like half the rules in life, he didn't care and kept going.
The UA was too high, with too many floors, and as he approached the edge and sat down, he could see how everything from there seemed simply tiny and insignificant; the breeze moved his hair lightly, refreshing his body and mind of all ills. He could feel a little freedom. He put on his headphones and played his playlist at full volume.
Up there, he could feel the little calm that dwelled in his body instead of the anger that usually gnawed at him. He lay down on the hard cement that surrounded the edges of the building, and if he squinted, he could avoid the bars and pretend they weren't there to prevent any accidents. He had to come here more often, he thought; it was nice to be alone and at peace; no one told him that he was left behind, no one reminded him how imperfect he was, how weak… he growled. His mind was his worst enemy.
He had a good quirk, a good financial situation, he was on his way to fulfilling his dreams, his parents, despite the old witch, loved him, he was even forming a sincere group of friends, who were all healthy and had the same dreams, unlike in Aldera, where he was surrounded by bad influences. Now, he was the bad influence; foul-mouthed, disrespectful, he made no effort to wear a uniform, there was not a hint of innocence in his eyes, nor in his way of acting, nor in his speech... he fought, hit and yelled, those who approached him did so for the fun of making him angry (if they ran too fast) or to tame him like a dog.
His mind was his worst enemy, he repeats. Sometimes he got so caught up in his negative feelings that life took on a different shape. His friends reached out to him because they cared about him; Aizawa and Best Jeanist wanted to help him improve and pursue his dreams.
He looked down from the top of the UA, reflecting.
He would be the best hero in the world, he would be better than All Might, even if All Might didn't look at him.He would excel and pass the end-of-semester exams with a perfect grade, both on the written tests and the practicals. He would pass the damn deku, the half-and-half, and no one would question how good and sufficient he was, so much so that not even his mind could deny it.
He looked at his watch, seeing that the back-to-school bell had, in fact, already rung. He became alarmed and quickly gathered his things, hurrying and skipping down the stairs two at a time. Aizawa was going to scold him, ask where he'd been.
He hurried to his classroom and opened the door where Aizawa was already standing, explaining today's exercise. When he was interrupted, he turned around and stopped explaining, raising an eyebrow at Bakugo.
The blond man walked across the room to his seat, where he deliberately sat down. He looked straight ahead and met his teacher's gaze, who seemed quite serious about the lack of respect. Oh, shit.
—The time, Bakugo— he said, tiredly.
"I didn't realize, okay?" he replied, trying to sound as calm as possible.
"Next time, you'll come to my office," he scolded, and he didn't even deign to respond, just looked away. He noticed the surprise in his professor's eyes, but he didn't say anything. Today, he didn't feel like arguing.
After Aizawa explain today's work assignment, which was defense and attack practices in duos, turned around to confirm that he would do it with Kirishima, as always; he was already looking at him with a radiant smile and approached to bump fists with him while saying “let us strive, ¡bakubro!”
Leaving the room, the redhead came even closer with every intention of asking.
“Bakubro, where were you?” he looked at him, waiting for him to tell her.
“It's not your problem, shittyhair” he replied, unwilling to chat for long; if he told him, they wanted to go there now, and he wouldn't be able to rest easily.
“Okay, okay. But you're okay, right? Lately you've been…” he tried to speak, but the blond interrupted him.
“And what the hell do you care?” Gruff and cutting; always concerned, always on the lookout… Bakugo was annoyed, but he didn’t even know why; he was so weak, that they had to look at him with pity?
He couldn't stand the kicked puppy face the shark-toothed man made, of course.
“I'm fine, don't pity me, Ei " he ruffled his hair with the best smile he could muster, and he didn't regret it when the redhead smiled like his day had been brightened.
“Whatever you say, but here I am.” He put his arm around his shoulders in a loving gesture that dissolved seconds later.
“Tch, idiot,” he crossed his arms, but his friend had started talking about some stupid thing, and the soy sauce and the electric rat had joined in.
It wasn't such a bad workout, he supposed. No if he didn't have any company.
Maybe I should get out more.
His friends were kind, funny, and very, very idiots. They would try to understand and help him, but of course they couldn't. They were a good support, though; he allowed himself to smile slightly.
The afternoon passed quickly. He returned home on a disgustingly crowded bus where everyone recognized him. He listened to loud music and ignored his surroundings until he got home.
Lucky for him, his parents were in Venice for work, and he could relax, free from the yelling and distractions that weren't helping him. He did his homework, cooked, planned his workouts for the week, prepared some exam topics, and even took a bath. All because he didn't want even a second of silence for his mind; that's when his restlessness began should fill in those blanks to be more than enough and be able to get ahead.
It was nighttime, he'd already had dinner and gone to bed; the lights and his phone were off, his alarm already set early in the morning to follow a demanding routine…
But there he was, tossing and turning in his sheets,snuggling, stretching, adjusting the pillow as if it were his fault Katsuki's inability to sleep. He felt himself starting to sweat, summer had just begun; his palms were itching and he felt an itch spreading throughout his body. To say he was uncomfortable was an understatement compared to the restlessness and anxiety he felt right now. He estimated he'd checked the time on his alarm clock about seven times, berating himself for feeling that way, for being that way.
He was soon inundated by a tsunami of thoughts he had been avoiding all afternoon. Was this when they were taking their toll? oh really?
He thought and thought, not being able to sleep made him even more worried, because...as could he get up tomorrow to carry out his routine, if he didn't even sleep?
Like a light bulb that turned on, his brain finally reasoned something useful.
He would go for a run for a while, and kill two birds with one stone. He would be tired enough to sleep, and even if he slept later, he could get up later because he wouldn't have to run in the mornings. Simply perfect .
The only thing that might be a risk is that he'd have to run across the city. But that was fine, he convinced himself, Musutafu was an extremely safe city, with heroes everywhere, and besides, he knew the area well enough not to get lost. He wasn't going to get lost if he knew the city like the back of his hand; he always knew where, how, and when.
It's not like he had any other choice, since he doesn't believe the UA would open its training camp and gyms at 11 p.m. No, he's pretty sure they wouldn't...
He got to work, putting on some athletic shorts and a sleeveless sweatshirt, not wanting to blow up the city, not today. He put on his most comfortable running shoes, his headphones, his cell phone, and some money to buy something to drink if he got thirsty. Ready, he headed out while plugging his headphones back into his phone, turned the volume up to maximum, and started running.
He headed toward the main streets of the city, where the lighting made it hard to know it was so late, if it weren't for the few people who lived there. Of course, it's not like a Tuesday at 11 p.m. was a great time to go for a run.
He immersed himself in the breeze that hit him as he ran, the pain in his legs, the music playing, and the feeling of warmth that embraced him. He looked at the buildings that rose above him, so tall they touched the clouds; the agencies, the signs, advertising for various brands, and many billboards with colorful LED lights that made his eyes hurt if he stared at them. The city was beautiful, and even more so at night. He would have to do this more often, as it had been a while since he had enjoyed something so much. Lately everything was routine and bored , he thought.
He liked adrenaline, experiences and if it sounded dangerous, even better.
He ran until he realized that he had actually reached the strange part of Musutafu, the one his mother avoided if she could, a more humble area and one that decent people didn't go to, or so the mothers of his classmates said when he was in primary school. It always seemed stupid to him, because he used to come with his two stupid friends to play rickety games on crappy machines, or to faded parks where no one went, where no one could bother them with the stupidity of little kids. Maybe he could understand why he had a reputation as a delinquent, one that got worse at UA, it didn't matter, everyone could go fuck themselves since he was the best.
He went a little further, reaching the door of a place that looked like a bar. He took off his headphones to be more alert, but it didn't help much, because the music coming from there was enough to drown out his surroundings and any sounds he should be worried about. He looked at the door; there was no guard, no one watching. He could easily get in.
Were him really thinking of going to a party?
Him, Bakugo Katsuki, the one who fell asleep at 8 pm?
It sounded so crazy; but people took refuge in things that were perhaps not so healthy because they felt better, but what was wrong with sitting there enjoying the atmosphere? Not even one drink would ruin his life, nor would he become an alcoholic. He could even dance; Raccoon Eyes danced, and she said it helped clear her mind…
His ideas were hardly understandable and his thoughts very similar to a rather questionable attempt at self-convincing, but where else could he find someone who understood his problems, if not in a seedy bar in the dangerous part of the city? Because to go out to party on Tuesday …
He wasn't one to judge, he decided, because that's exactly what he was going to do. Ridiculous.
He’d already been around idiots in high school, it couldn't get any worse than this. Kariage with his constant cigarettes and Dehisa, who only took them around town to see girls. The only thing he could thank them for was his resistance to the smell of a cigarette and the discovery that he didn't like women at all. Even they might come to understand him, ¿no? Kariage maybe could. After all, he had been his first teenage love.
Maybe he could even flirt with someone and feel, at least for a while, what he saw in his friends. He wasn't looking to fall in love, of course; it was pointless and it would derail him.
That there was saying father about hormones? oh yeah,that's it made him even more susceptible…
Let's do it, he thought, and went into the bar.
── .✦. ──── .✦. ────
It wasn't so bad, he had sat at the bar and ordered water, yes, water , it wasn't because of his inexperience, or even his weakness for drinking; he just wasn't in the mood yet, he repeated to himself, looking for an excuse for his miserable drinking. He tried to watch how the others were dancing, and it sounded like a loose rhythm they were coordinating with the bass of the music that was playing so loud it felt like it was bursting his ears. He played with his arm while he looked around the room, immersed in the atmosphere; the music was good, and no one had recognized him, and if they had, no one had said anything, not even a second glance. Fuck, he felt good enough. He was happy.
He saw in the distance a guy with black hair, similar to his own, turquoise eyes that shone in the occasional light, eyes that hypnotized him. As he got closer, he saw that his face was literally burned; patches of purplish skin were held together with surgical staples. If he slightly lifted the sleeves on his arm, he could see more burned skin that seemed to extend above his wrist. His ears were full of piercings and on his nose, on one side only, he had three. He looked at him, slightly terrified, but he felt more horror inside, because it didn't seem right to him. It's unpleasant to look at. He quickly looked away and scolded himself for staring so blatantly at a stranger who was probably in his late twenties, if not older. He conjured the image in his mind and took it all in: faded jeans with a belt, the waistband of his boxers slightly visible, a black tank top, and a matching jacket, which seemed to hide most of the burns on his arms and torso.
God help him, because his burns made him look too much fine; but it must hurt like hell, he supposed. He would have felt sorry for him if it weren't for the lust clouding his thoughts.
Shit, shit, shit.
He had sat down next to him, and he could feel his burning gaze. Everything about him said fire; he decided to be brave, manly, as Kirishima would say, and turned to look at him very nervously. Because of their proximity, he could even smell his cheap cologne, the smoke from his cigarettes, and far below, another scent, the burning smell which he preferred to ignore.
Holy shit , he thought.
He didn't even look away when Katsuki looked at him, he had a disinterested smile, a few seconds passed where he stared at those irises that had something .
“Are you alone?” the stranger asked, his tone radiating the same disinterest as his smile.
"Uh, yeah" he took a while to answer, stuttering slightly. He felt his cheeks heat up, looked away, and stared at the man's hands, they were pretty , he thought; long, pale fingers, the veins standing out. He felt a deep sense of shame, because he, Bakugo Katsuki, was never embarrassed, or worse, stuttered. He felt a kind of self-loathing. He decided it was a good idea to snort in annoyance to hide whatever he had to hide, but it wasn't inexperience...
“I see. Why are you here?” he questioned, looking at him again.
"What do you care?" He was nervous as hell, and of course, he was always on the defensive; he expected the boy to back away, but he laughed at him. His frown deepened.
“How funny. You don’t look like you’re from around here.” He leaned an elbow on the bar with confidence, as if he owned the place.
“I’m from here,” he replied. The idiot continued to smile carelessly, and Katsuki grew more irritated.
“From this area?” he hesitated, pointing up and down.
"I'm from Masutafu" His frown deepened further, why was he asking so many questions and why the hell was he still wearing that smile?
“But not from this area. Do you drink?” he said, not really getting an answer, as he pulled out a couple of bills.
He hesitated before answering, he had never had alcohol, he didn't know he was supposed to choose, he was underage, he shouldn't... "Okay" he answered as convincingly as he could, ignoring that it sounded like he was trying to keep his oxygen, great, he thought, now it seemed like he was desperate and very excited by the unwanted attention of the intense being who was talking to him.
“So what are you having?” he called to the bartender, who was a different guy than the one who had given him the water; he assumed his shift had ended and another had started.
Wait, what was I going to take?
“Uh…” he hesitated, trying to decide what the hell he was supposed to say. “I haven’t had any alcohol,” he thought, but how could he possibly admit to something so embarrassing? “I don’t care,” he rolled his eyes. Yeah, that was much better.
The idiotic grin widened, and the burned skin puckered along with his staples. He noticed a flash of something in his eyes that he couldn't decipher, and swore he'd be attentive. "I see, how old are you? If you're under 18..." Well, that question definitely took him by surprise.
Think fast , he forced himself.
"Eighteen, recently turned," he lied blatantly, even with details. Yes, attention and logical thinking vanished as quickly as they had appeared.
“Oh, good. I’m glad.” He gave him a look. “Then I’ll have to choose something. It won’t be strong; you’re just blossoming into adulthood!” He teased him sarcastically as he ordered drinks, which he didn’t bother to listen to.
“Uh? Fuck off!” he yelled, making him chuckle softly. “What’s making you laugh so hard? Fuck!” he swore coming had been a good idea, that the guy was hot… but he was unbearable, and he hated how the fun flowed through his body too.
“You’re so tense! Are you always like this?” he questioned, but he didn’t have time to answer. “Did you commit a crime? Did you run away from home? Did you drop out of school?” he joked, dismissing it with his hand, but Katsuki wasn’t up for the sarcastic jerk who was increasingly annoying him. He didn’t want to agree with him, but his own aggressive responses, his upright posture, and fingers tightly gripping the bar weren’t helping; nor was the fun the man seemed to have, as if he were a fucking circus monkey.
“Oh, fuck off. I’ll beat you up,” he said. He hadn’t dropped out of school or committed any crimes, but… technically he hadn't run away from home either. A few minutes of what I considered uncomfortable silence passed, his leg tapping against the floor, his hands rhythmically hitting the dirty, sticky wood of the bar. God, how long could fucking drinks take? Was it always like this? Or was he the one making this uncomfortable?
“Hm, I bet you’re a good kid. You’re too tense… I’m sure you’re top of the class. You’ve chosen a good but rather difficult course. I still haven’t figured out your relationship with your parents, but I can see you’re pretty socially inept. Are you always like that, darling?” Out of nowhere, the idiot unleashed a monologue—apt, but he’d never accept it—and dared to call him inept, and darling; this man wasn’t normal. If he could define him in one word, it would be shameless.
His look and expression were incredulous. “What the fuck? Who asked you for your opinion? Hey, patches?!” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, about to leave, when suddenly the social pressure of not being able to beat up this idiot right there hit him. He’d get in trouble, and no one could or should know he was there, so he settled for a little shove, which didn’t seem to bother his companion one bit, who laughed as if he’d been tickled.
“Easy, easy. Look, let's drink this and dance,” he said as he dragged hiz drink across the bar. He smiled at him again, almost lazily.
Katsuki took his drink and observed it until he came to the conclusion that this shit was safe, according to his visual standards he drank a little, tasted it, found it wasn't that bad, and downed it in one gulp. He needed the confidence to put his pride aside. "I don't know how to dance. I've never been like that," he grunted.
“That’s no problem, honey. Come on, I’ll show you.” He downed his entire drink in one gulp and stood up from his seat. The blond’s brain had rebooted with the second "honey". Hot idiot.
He stood up awkwardly and took the patiently waiting hand. He allowed himself to be guided onto the dance floor. Soon, he found himself next to a crowd of people dancing furiously to the music. He felt the stranger's voice in his ear, his hot breath, and sensed the alcohol on him. He didn't mind. "Come, I'll guide you." He placed his hands, which were cold to the touch, on his hips and began to sway and move gently to the music. The hands moved him slightly, urging him to move too. After a while, he got the hang of it, and now they were dancing close together, his body pressed against the stranger's torso.
A stranger , he thought. He didn't know the idiot's name.
He turned around to ask, "Idiot, what's your name?" He stared into those eyes that were now fixed on him with an arrogant smile as he pressed his body against his, causing their private parts to touch. A small gasp of surprise escaped his mouth, and he blushed deeply when the black-haired man's hands began to snake down his lower back.
“ Dabi . You can call me Dabi” he savored the nickname in his mind and nodded, feeling Dabi’s face getting closer and closer.
It's going to happen, he's going to kiss me.
This was what he'd been looking for, a release. He felt a little sweaty, dancing, and a newfound confidence he'd never felt before.
This was what people did at parties, wasn't it? Meet someone, exchange a few words, and take them home. A slight discomfort gripped him as he remembered that, in reality, this wasn't his world or his way of acting; he was usually smarter than kissing a guy he'd practically just met. Although, in his most lucid moment of the day, aware of what he was doing, he decided he could give the opportunity to a stranger who didn't know him and whom he probably wouldn't see again; it was a risky bet, he supposed, since showing himself vulnerable in his position as a hero-in-training wasn't the best decision. But Bakugo was an emotionally unstable teenager who wanted to feel alive and free for a moment, and who better than a sarcastic stranger, who seemed to make bad decisions like him and who didn't freak out when he saw him? He decided, then, that it wasn't such a bad decision. Dabi, as much as he drove him crazy, was funny and insufferable, he was hot and scarred, in his eyes, he was perfect for him.
Okay, perfect was too much, it's not like they were going to fall in love for one night.
After what felt like an eternity, the stranger, no, Dabi, pressed his lips to his and began a dance between their lips that was slow and deep.
Soon they were kissing desperately, he stood on his tiptoes so he wouldn't have to bend over so much and put his arms around his neck. Dabi squeezed his ass and took advantage when he opened his mouth slightly in surprise to stick his tongue inside him and explore his mouth, starting a dance between both tongues; it was a hot kiss, the sound of their lips and tongues was lasciviously embarrassing, their teeth clashed from time to time in their haste and they only separated to take a break. They continued dancing, increasingly close; the atmosphere was heavy, between many people and the movement, the flashing and colored lights that surrounded them, the smoke from lit cigarettes and the caresses of like they made him feel slightly lost and warm. He sang along with the others to the songs that were playing, glued to the lips of the black-haired man, who also sang.
Dabi turned him over and Katsuki pressed himself against him, resting his head on his partner's shoulder and pulling his arm back, stroking the black-haired boy's hair. Dabi lit a cigarette and began to smoke it while with his other hand he continued to grope his entire lower abdomen. He felt like he couldn't take it anymore, he needed more, he wasn't stupid; he knew how this would end; he preferred not to think about it so as not to get nervous and ruin the moment. He continued dancing, vaguely thinking that maybe being able to fuck someone would be what he needed; the hormones, his father had said…
So he could calm down.
Dabi was special , there was something in it that was brutal and made him shudder. He was the definition of fire in every sense; his burns, his humor, his words, the way he looked at him with lust. Everything seemed slow in it, but it burned; his skin was cold, almost icy, still burning. His almost empty, almost cruel gaze, his disinterested smiles and his perceptiveness would seem dangerous to him at an important moment, but they were strangers dancing together at a party, so he ignored it. His movements were as slow as their gaze, and his fingers traced rough lines all over his body with a delicate touch.
After a while, sweaty and agitated by the activity physics, turned around, to see the dazzling image of a sweaty, smiling Dabi with his cigarette dangling between his fingers, making him look even more attractive. Bakugo hated cigarettes and bad decisions, too focused for stupidity, but that dark-haired man made him feel strange and contradictory, and this definitely wasn't going to be a normal night. Only today, you won't see him again , he thought. Dabi had a raised eyebrow and an amused smile on his lips. “Come” he said pulling him towards him, took the cigarette from him and took a drag, brought him close enough so that their mouths were about to touch but he didn't mean to kiss him. He took his jaw and opened his mouth, blew the smoke in his mouth and Bakugo inhaled the smoke that made him burn. Dabi smiled and threw the cigarette away, stepped on it and guided him again.
This time he led him outside.
Was what he thought was about to happen about to happen?
Outside the establishment, Dabi had already let go of him, no longer needing to guide him. He followed him to a fairly ordinary motorcycle with a helmet hanging from it, which Dabi gave him to put on. “You’re a typical bad boy, huh?” he mocked to hide his nerves. It’ll happen.
Shit.
“Funny. Hop on, come on.” He sat on the seat and supported the weight of the bike on one leg.
“Where are we going?” he asked, trying not to sound unsure or inexperienced, crossing his arms.
“Scared? Let’s go to my house. It’s not far, don’t worry,” he said, patting the seat behind him.
“Okay. You wish I was scared, asshole. Your face is horrified, but maybe if I close my eyes…” It was the ego, right there. But he was surprised to see Dabi throw his head back and look at him with a smile that seemed to enjoy his insults and attempts to anger him. He gave in and sat behind Dabi, helmet already on.
“You can hold on as tight as you want, princess. For a little while, I can be the stuffed animal you hug every night.” He saw him wink, and couldn't respond because he started the motorcycle and drove off. He thought he was very clever, the idiot. He is, the voice of reason in his head told him, but he chose to ignore it. Bakugo didn't hug stuffed animals when he slept, not anymore… only pillows.
From All Might. It wasn't any worse than the All Might stuffed animals hidden in a box under his bed, the ones he used to hug when he had nightmares as a child. He'd never tell anyone, but they'd be with him forever.
Needless to say, he was nervous; the bike was going incredibly fast, and he was sure they were going over the city speed limit. He pressed himself even closer against the dark-haired man's back and hoped he didn't notice, but in reality, Dabi seemed to be quite perceptive. He had given this stranger, whom he had met two hours ago at most, his first kiss, his first time drinking alcohol outside of parental supervision, he had smoked, and now he was about to take his virginity.
What the fuck.
Okay, he accepted that his decisions were for the little, questionable .
But it didn't matter, he had already decided and Dabi felt good.
The wind whipped around his body, but the motorcycle soon slowed down until it reached a building in an unfamiliar part of Musutafu. It looked a little old and run down, but he didn't care; Kirishima's or Midoriya's house were similar; not everyone had that much money. He hadn't had much faith in Dabi either, of course.
They got off and he gave him back the helmet, looking away due to the slight embarrassment that was quickly taking over. He watched him store the motorcycle in a storage room that the building seemed to have; Dabi looked at him and signaled him with his hands for him to come closer; he opened the door and they began to climb the stairs in a silence that made him uncomfortable, being so used to the noise. The man opened the apartment door and let him in, still silent. He heard the keys lock the door while he looked around the apartment, trying to disperse his nerves, which were making his palms sweat and his leg constantly move. It wasn't ugly , he thought; it was pretty tidy and clean, the living room decor was a bit basic, but it wasn't that bad either. He walked around the room and stroked the rough fabric of the armchair. He turned around and saw Dabi taking off his coat, placing it on the coat rack. Now all his burns were visible. Embedded in them, he stared at the staples and wondered what they felt like to the touch, if they hurt… How the hell had he ended up like this? How had he lived after that? Had a hero helped him?
His intuition told him he shouldn't ask that now if he didn't want to ruin what was coming. He looked up at him, and he was already looking at him, arrogant and with a raised eyebrow. He had leaned against the wall and had his hands in his pants pockets. His eyes burned, and the turquoise gleamed next to his staples. The dim light highlighted his muscles, and he could see the V-shaped line forming across his lower abdomen. he mentally cursed.
“Drool all you want blondie , just don't get my floor dirty," he said as he moved toward the only room besides the bathroom. His mind went blank, his face turning into a red mess of disbelief as he followed him, and he realized where they were going.
“You! You…” Fuck it, he couldn't think of anything and his heart felt like it was racing. He tried to stammer out some insult, but when it didn't come out, he indignantly reached out to grab the muscle-bound men by the neck. It never made it, and in the blink of an eye, Dabi had him pinned against the wall. What reflexes, he thought.
“Oh, I love them aggressive,” he purred cheekily, nuzzling his face into Katsuki’s neck and pressing his semi-erection against Katsuki’s ass. He tried to struggle but was pushed back just as quickly against the cold wall, pressed between it and Dabi. The movement caused friction and a traitorous gasp escaped his mouth. With an almost sadistic look, Katsuki realized at that moment the glint and dangerous aura emanating from the dark-haired man without even trying; he seemed to enjoy it, and traitorously, so did he. He wondered how normal that was, but lately he hadn’t felt very normal; he wouldn’t be doing stupid things like this if he really were. Dabi seemed to notice his pleasure with a mocking grimace that seemed to penetrate the depths of the blond’s soul.
“And you too. I see,” he whispered in his ear, running his tongue down his neck. He stifled another gasp and bit his lip. He squeezed his eyes shut, wondering why he enjoyed being so vulnerable in front of this man. he hated vulnerability, and it had led him to make shitty decisions and end up here, so why did he enjoy it?
“You taste so sweet,” he said, turning to kiss him languidly and slowly. He pressed even closer, causing Katsuki to feel even more desperate. Danger, he understood, was what made him feel this way.
he decided to rush the kiss, and Dabi smiled against his lips as he noticed her desperation, and also his erection.
The dark-haired man released him to guide him into the room, and a feeling of nervousness spread through his palms and chest. He felt it coursing through him, hampering his ability to think. He tensed again and looked around the room, slightly haunted. His posture straightened again, and he surreptitiously grabbed the hem of his shirt, which had been used for other types of training.
“You’re tense again. Are you sure you want this?” he stepped away from him and gave him space while he looked at him, waiting for an answer.
“Uh, I…” He reconsidered everything, he knew he wanted to go ahead, but his nerves and inexperience weren’t helping. “I… I’ve never been with anyone,” he said in an embarrassed whisper, as if being inexperienced was something to be ashamed of, but with all his classmates and friends in love, he felt that insecurity of being left behind again, even in sex. Frowning at the discomfort of the situation and the one he felt in his pants, he tried to look as confident as possible.
“Oh, okay. Sure, then?” didn’t seem to surprise him, and his response was overwhelmingly dry and emotionless. Katsuki nodded, and Dabi leaned in again.
He didn't kiss him, not yet. He held him by the hips and dug his hands into them, buried his head in his shoulder, and began to kiss him slowly. The blond ran his hands over his shoulder and began to twist his hands into the man's dyed hair, working harder and harder, pressing himself even closer to his neck and shoulder. He let himself enjoy it between gasps and ragged breaths that urged him to keep going.
Seeing that he was relaxing, Dabi finally moved away from his shoulder and slowly approached his face, looking at him with those electrifying eyes before kissing him, starting slowly and increasing the pace the more he got out of control; in the room only their breathing and the embarrassing sound of their lips and saliva fighting each other could be heard.
Before he knew it, Dabi was pushing him onto the bed. They moved closer with wobbly, desperate steps, without separating. He felt himself being gently pushed against the soft mattress and falling between the dark sheets of his companion's room. He smelled the faint scent of smoke and men's cologne, and watched as Dabi removed his clothes from his torso, exposing the burns and staples that attracted him so much.
He assumed Dabi was thin, and he was, but he also had muscle, quite defined. His abs and biceps stood out in the moonlight that streamed in through the open window. He looked into his eyes, which were almost empty, but with a glimmer of lust; this made him shiver, and he leaned back on his elbows, waiting for Dabi to come closer.
As he moved closer, Dabi straddled him, lowering himself until he felt his breath slow against his face from the closeness. In silent agreement, Katsuki straightened and let them peel his clothes off his torso, feeling a little embarrassed at being so exposed in front of a virtual stranger.
He'd never felt ashamed or insecure about his physique, quite the opposite; he didn't mind changing with the extras in the locker room or letting his friends watch him, asking for advice on how to increase his muscle mass. But this was different, and he felt vulnerable.
He raised his head and looked at Dabi, who seemed to want to eat him alive, without seeming surprised by his worked physique. He attacked his neck again, going lower and lower towards his pecs. His hands, icy to the touch, ran over his abs and massaged them, making him desperate and cling even more. He tangled his fingers in his hair again and closed his eyes, hoping Dabi wouldn't feel his heart beating shamefully in his mouth. The dark-haired man's tongue found his nipples and began to lick them in circles. It felt too good, he thought, arching his back closer to the other's body. He went slow, playing with his other nipple with his right hand, massaging and pinching lightly, sending electric shocks through his body.
"Mhm," he gasped, clutching the dark sheets that clung to them, his back arched, and Dabi playing with his nipples, drawing out gasps and ragged breaths. he continued kissing him, descending over his abs until he reached the strap of his underwear; he looked at him with those eyes, those eyes, silently asking for permission. How could he refuse those eyes? He couldn't, of course...
He stopped looking at him and ran his gaze towards the ceiling, pressing his head to the pillow he was leaning on. He felt him slowly take off his pants, enjoying his embarrassment. It took him a surprisingly long time to take them off completely; he took advantage of the time to grab a bottle with clear liquid inside, which he assumed was lubricant. As quickly as he left, he came back and finished undressing him. He felt him rise above him, he decided to open his eyes just to lock eyes with someone who was already looking at him, he saw how his gaze descended over his entire body, naked and surrendered to him, he placed his hands on his hips, holding him tightly before giving him one last look with a flash of controlled lust. He didn't look away as he went down and Katsuki thought he was going to die.
His erection was already dripping with anticipation, and Dabi seemed pleased. He took his cock in his hands and brought the head to his mouth, slowly running her tongue over it and tasting his precum. His head quickly twisted back, his eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment and shared pleasure, and his back twisted into a perfect arch; he couldn't believe his cock was being sucked. This had gone way beyond what he had intended, but more than regretting it, he was glad. He stopped thinking absurd things when he felt an overwhelming heat embrace his entire shaft. Assuming it was Dabi's mouth, he dared to look down. Dabi was still looking at him, attentive to his reactions. Whether he liked it or not, at that precise moment, he took him completely and Katsuki moaned loudly, his eyes turning white, lying back on the bed, refusing to let it happen again. What a shame, he thought, he had resisted enough, he couldn't go on like this.
Well, probably not, if Dabi kept taking him all the way in without even reacting. His body convulsed, and he bit his lip so hard he felt the metallic taste of his blood faintly flood his treacherous mouth, which only drew gasps and ragged breaths.
He heard the sound of the bottle opening, the liquid oozing out of Dabi's hand and closing again. He squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm not going to kill you, you know? I don't think I'm being so mean that it seems like I'm torturing you," he mocked with a smile.
Incredulous, he opened his eyes and saw the situation for himself, naked and lying at the mercy of the idiot who made shitty jokes at the worst possible times. “Fuck off, damn it,” Bakugo didn’t understand, and shame drove home the idea that he should just leave and pretend this hadn’t happened. He shifted uncomfortably in the sheets, realizing how exposed he was. He felt Dabi’s smile even though he wasn’t looking directly at him. He really enjoyed embarrassing him, didn’t he?
The black-haired man turned the bed, and suddenly took him completely again as if he were doing the easiest thing in the world. In surprise, he couldn't prevent the release of a high-pitched moan and lay back down, gripping the rough sheets as if his life depended on it. He felt Dabi's hot tongue wrap around his glans, wet and making sounds too embarrassing that made him throb with interest; his legs trembled slightly and his fingers twisted, he felt almost electric shocks of pleasure being sent throughout his body. He felt the black-haired man take one of his legs and lift it to his shoulder, and then how a wet finger played with his entrance. He preferred to pretend he didn't feel it, but when he inserted his finger, after much playing, he let out a gasp of surprise.
It didn't feel bad. It was weird, uncomfortable, and after a few seconds of stillness, Dabi began to push in and out at a steady pace, gradually increasing the speed. It didn't feel as great as he…
After Dabi pushed his finger in further, touching something, his back arched without even asking, and he felt something he'd never felt before. He moaned and whimpered unashamedly as Dabi inserted a second, lubed-up finger and hit that spot repeatedly. He began to masturbate him and inserted a third finger, continuing his work. Katsuki felt like he was on cloud nine, and no matter how hard he tried to control himself, he couldn't.
Dabi rose over him, continuing to penetrate him with his fingers, and played with his nipples a little, running his tongue over them and biting them lightly. He left them to grab a package from his nightstand, and Bakugo assumed that was about to happen.
he slipped his fingers inside him and quickly undressed, leaving him completely naked before him. He savored his entire body with his gaze and unconsciously licked his lips. When he looked down at his penis, he had a giant reality check when he thought that this was what was going to enter him in a few moments. Would it even enter? he panicked again. He realized that the hair there was white, not black; so he wasn't naturally dark-haired, he supposed.
He snapped out of his thoughts when he saw that Dabi had already put on the condom and was actually approaching him. He climbed onto the bed, sat down, and quickly spread his legs, pulling him towards him with his hands. The fake black-haired boy's hips were between his legs. He grabbed him by the hips and placed his penis at his entrance. He leaned back on Bakugo, using one of his arms as support so as not to crush him, and with the other hand he guided his cock.
He began to enter him slowly, and it hurted.
His brow furrowed and he turned his head away so Dabi wouldn’t see his reaction. He felt a sharp pain and an uncomfortable sensation, tears stinging his eyes. “You’re too tight, relax. Otherwise, it’ll hurt even more,” he told him. To distract him, he ran his hands all over his body without breaking eye contact, and entered the hollow between his neck and collarbone to kiss and nibble. He decided to let himself go and with his fingers he gently outlined the muscles in his arms, chest, and shoulders. He touched his burns with a special softness, almost carefully. He observed the shine of the surgical staples and realized that they were colder than even Dabi’s body, but he stopped when he saw Dabi shudder under his touch, thinking that it hurt. He apologized and quickly pulled away, afraid of having ruined everything. “No, no. It’s okay, keep going.” This time, it was Dabi who sounded slightly choked up, and now he simply looked at him deeply, almost without blinking, not missing anything that the blond’s face reflected. “Okay, okay,” he gulped and continued touching him with fascination, still not understanding what Dabi was looking for in his face. He distracted himself by touching him, and also realized that the black-haired man’s body temperature was warmer now. Could he perhaps regulate his body temperature? Or was it the situation? Was it his quirk? Like Todoroki, maybe.
He got used to the sensation faster than he intended, or perhaps he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts, or rather, his companion's body to continue tensing under the new intrusion that made his body uncomfortable. He nodded to his partner to let him know he could move now, and Dabi began to thrust in and out of him repeatedly, calmly and slowly. The feeling of discomfort lingered slightly, but he chose to ignore it. He applied more lubricant and penetrated again; deeper each time, he assumed, searching for that spot he had previously touched with his fingers so he could begin in earnest.
Concentrated on his task, Dabi hovered over him deeply, the bed creaking slightly, and when he entered him again, adjusting the angle, making the blond's legs wrap around his back to have better access between his hips, he seemed to have hit the right spot, because he hit that spot again that made him shudder, writhe and let out a cry that he would be very ashamed of if he weren't in the situation he was in. He saw a victorious smile on Dabi's face, and a hungry look.
Now, he penetrated the blond with more intensity, drawing out moans that he could no longer control, but which he tried to suppress by putting his arm across his face, biting the skin hard, embarrassed. It didn't last long before Dabi removed his arm and held his face with his hands on his jaw so he could admire the fruits of his labor, he increased the speed, pounding him harder. The blond's vision was blurry, his cheeks were flushed and his mouth open, with a thread of saliva crossing all his lips, he writhed and held onto the first thing he found, he felt wet, and the splashing of both bodies was simply obscene, the headboard of the bed rhythmically hit the wall, and Dabi continued mercilessly. His body shuddered as Dabi's thrusts became faster and rougher, sighs and labored breaths came from the black-haired man's mouth, which increased the pleasure even more when he saw that his partner was also enjoying the encounter. Dabi’s hand gripped the backrest, seeking stability for the new angle he was looking for. He raised Katsuki’s hips and swung one of his legs over the outstretched arm holding onto the backrest, resting the anterior region of his knee on the anterior bend of his elbow. Feeling exposed and very embarrassed, he quickly looked away and arched again when Dabi thrust again mercilessly. This time, he began to masturbate him to the rhythm of the thrusts, overwhelming his brain in a way that he couldn’t form a coherent thought. He felt that electric burst forming, growing larger with each step Dabi took. His eyes turned white, his legs trembled, and a thread of saliva ran down his cheek, surely from having his mouth open for so long, panting. “Ah, Dabi, please… please” he begged, not knowing exactly what he meant. “D-don’t stop, I, I…” he writhed, feeling his orgasm getting closer and closer, not knowing what else to do but moan and speak incoherently, his eyes filled with tears, this was too much, too strong and different from what he thought it would be. “Calm down, babe” Dabi said between gasps, admiring the precious image that his eyes enjoyed at that precise moment, sliding his hands over Kasuki’s soft cheekbone, almost sweetly “Dabi, Dabi… I think I’m going to, I’m going to-”
Without mercy, Dabi continued to touch and penetrate his broken body without mercy, when the orgasm hit his body like an overwhelming wave of pleasure he had never felt before, running through his entire body, tensing him and making him cry out in surprise and pleasure. His eyes turned white so hard it hurt, his back arched in a perfect arc, and he pressed the sheets so hard his fingers turned white. Hazily, he felt Dabi continue to thrust into his now sensitive body, increasingly unbridled and less planned, he felt a few last thrusts before Dabi released his leg and collapsed on him breathless.
After a few minutes, already recovered and breathing normally again, the dark-haired man stood up and began to slowly withdraw from him. A grimace of discomfort appeared on his face, due to the uncomfortable sensation he felt again now that he wasn't having uncontrolled sex. He shifted under the sheets while Dabi tied the used condom and threw it in the trash, still naked. He brought some tissues with him, with which he cleaned the blond's stomach, who was lying in a trance of exhaustion and astonishment.
He sat up in bed, feeling a stabbing pain that would surely bother him a lot tomorrow. Spending hours sitting in a classroom seat wasn't entirely pleasant, especially like this. He must have been very expressive with his disgust and pain, because Dabi watched him amused from the edge of the bed, where he was putting his clothes back on—well, just his underwear and pants. His hair was a little wet with sweat and pretty messy, and the unburned skin on his arm was a little scratched, or at least reddened. "Sore?" he asked as if it wasn't obvious. He gave him a miserable snort of annoyance while shaking his head. He would insult him if he weren't so tired. He felt his underwear hit him directly in the face and slowly fall onto his lap. He looked down at the underwear and looked up to see the enormous idiot who had just fucked him. With a persistent twitch in his eye, he grabbed the underwear and put them back on. Hearing Dabi's laughter behind him, he turned to hit him or insult him, but he was too stiff. "You look like you've had a stick shoved up your ass" he laughed.
Bakugo wasn't so amused. "Shut your fucking ass before I beat you up, Patches" he growled, as he pulled on his pants. His body was still trembling slightly, and he was a little numb.
“A beating, honey? I think I just beat you up.” Fed up, Bakugo stood up, ignoring the pain, and strode towards the idiot.
“I swear, don’t you have a survival instinct? I could beat the hell out of you if I wanted to” he said, cornered against the wall, his arm shoving his throat to the ground. Dabi’s smile lingered, though.
“Hm… I mean, you’re hot and all, but I don’t think you know what you’re getting into” he replied, with a hint of warning, as he reached for his waist and wrapped his fingers around it, causing a shiver from their coldness.
“You’re the one who doesn’t know what you’re getting into. Are you a corpse or something? You’re half burned, and your body temperature is the same as someone buried in a coffin.” He tightened his grip on her throat even more, grinning like a madman.
“Yeah, I guess I should have been buried in a coffin a long time ago,” he blurted out, but Bakugo didn’t give in, and just snorted, “Do you have a fetish with hanging? We could try it later, because that little smile…” He laughed, while continuing to grope his abdomen, outlining his muscles.
“You’re a fucking weirdo! Don’t underestimate me, damn it,” he growled, letting go, but Dabi held onto his hips and wouldn’t let him escape.
“It’s you who underestimates me,” he looked at him with those turquoise eyes, which made him shudder and look away.
“Yeah, yeah. Who are you? A villain?” he laughed, and Dabi smiled at his comment too.
“Could be, maybe I kill children and steal from old people” he continued the joke as he stepped away, searching the floor for his shirt.
“If you were, I’d kick your fucking ass,” he replied, his voice raspy, giving him a thumbs-down gesture as he reached for his own shirt.
Dabi responded laughing “Do you really think villains only kill children and rob the elderly?”
“Villains do bad things, that’s what makes them villains” he rolled his eyes, as if it wasn’t obvious.
“Oh, how naive. You think they're just mean for the hell of it? Come on! You seem smarter than that, honey,” he mocked, sitting on the bed, already fully dressed and waiting for the blond to finish putting on his shoes.
He preferred to simply glare at him, not knowing how to respond. Had he perhaps butted into something he shouldn't? What Dabi was saying made sense, but he seemed to have a hint of resentment when he spoke of heroes, and a hint of positivity when he spoke of villains.
Bakugo decided he would turn a deaf ear and ignore his intuition, surely, it was just him overthinking.
“Okay, ready? Come on, I'll drop you off at home.” he stood up, staring at him, as if he hadn't analyzed him. “Now that we're not fucking, you're getting tense again?”
“I’ll come back alone,” he blurted out without thinking.
"Do you even know where you are? Don't be proud, you don't seem entirely well enough to be out on the street at this hour." He placed his arm around his waist, patiently.
“I don’t need your help, much less your compassion” he said through gritted teeth.
“Compassion? No, we had too much fun for that. Come on, don't be stubborn.” He approached slowly, until they were face to face. What Dabi didn't know was that he had possibly messed with the most stubborn person he had ever met.
He looked at him suspiciously before accepting. He would accept because it would take much longer to get home, and it was already very late. "Okay."
Dabi smiled, walking away and continuing through his house until he opened the door. The stairs followed, the dark-haired man took the motorcycle out of storage again and leaned against it, looking at his phone. "Okay, tell me the address of your house, or wherever I can drop you off." He looked at him, still with his head down, looking at his phone, his tone bored again.
Bakugo hadn't realized that he would implicitly have to tell the stranger where he lived, that even though he knew Katsuki in a way no one else did, he still didn't know him. Reluctantly, he entered his address into Google Maps, and after a couple of glances, Dabi handed him the helmet and got on the motorcycle, waiting for him to do the same. They didn't talk much during the ride, and the blond simply rested his head on the dark-haired man's back, a little tired and annoyed from sitting. He lost track of time, letting the breeze hit his bare skin and observing the city plunged into calm. Soon they were on the block of his house, and Dabi slowed down to stop right in front of his house. They got off, and he gave him back his helmet.
“Yeah, I should have known you were a rich kid,” he leaned against the bike, arms crossed, that lazy look on his face again.
"Ugh, you're annoying, Patches." He straightened his clothes, unsure how to say goodbye. He saw Dabi typing something on his phone. Wait, it wasn't his phone...
Before he could react and snatch his own phone away, Dabi was already holding it out in front of him, waiting for him to pick it up with a cocky smirk. “My number, don’t worry. It was good, we could do it again,” he said as Katuski snatched the phone violently.
"What? Wasn't it easier to just ask or something?!" he growled suddenly, indignant, not because it had been taken away from him, but because he hadn't noticed. Okay, the bastard was smarter than he looked.
"You were going to be embarrassed. I preferred to do it my way" he shrugged, as if it were no big deal.
“You bastard, your way of doing this is by stealing my cell phone?” he scolded, frowning and with his arms crossed over his chest.
“I gave it back to you! Consider it a courtesy from a child murderer and old-age thief,” he joked, as he stood up to leave.
“Fuck you, you burned-out idiot,” he responded harshly, watching as the black-haired man sat on the motorcycle, ready to leave.
“Oh, yeah. I already did, actually,” he smiled as he put on his helmet, while the blond’s eye twitched. “Well, see you around, blondie!” he said, starting the bike and making as much noise as possible, interrupting the beautiful silence of the sona. Bakugo groaned in frustration, and took out the keys to open the door. He went upstairs and when he got to his room, he simply took off his clothes and lay down on his bed, wrapping himself with the warm, familiar sheets that gave him a feeling of comfort. He looked at his watch, seeing that he'd probably only get a measly six hours of sleep.
The last thought that crossed his mind before being embraced by the long-awaited dream was that he regretted nothing.