Chapter Text
Katsuki is… conflicted. It’s not anything truly wrong but he knows deep, deep down, this is not what’s supposed to go down today. It’s his first day back at the dorms (after a heated arguing match with his mom in front of Aizawa and All Might, she relented and let him stay) and he has this distinct feeling he was supposed to be doing something else.
Anything else, really.
“Katsuki,” Momo calls out sweetly, “please move three inches to the left,” She has her long, black hair down her back and idly scans the room as he makes the proper arrangements for her. Katsuki feels his lips curl up into a sneer, showing sharp incisors, but she doesn’t even flinch at the clear threat from being ordered around.
Katsuki moves it without complaint, or at least verbal compliant, tensing without warning as he drags the bedpost over by three inches.
The look on the girl’s face lets him know it’s unsatisfactory.
He only barely stops himself from calling her a prissy princess. She crosses her arms and her brows furrow, the same look she gets during an exam, and Katsuki can’t believe she’s just thinking about the perfect placement of her bed. He thinks it’s obnoxious that she has such a large one in the first place. Katsuki has stated, several times now, including mumbling it harshly under his breath, that Momo should just tear down the fucking wall and make use of the empty other room.
At her refusal ‘Aizawa would never let me use two rooms!’ he didn’t bring it up again. She’d just prattle on all the reasons why she couldn’t and tell him she could make do with the small dorm.
Katsuki groans and strains his muscles as he moves her king size bed exactly three inches more inches to the right, knowing that with the ginormous size of it in the small confines of the dorm room make no difference.
Her face clearly states how unhappy she is.
That’s fucking it. “WHAT THE HELL, WOMAN!?” Katsuki explodes, as if he’s been bottling in the anger for the past three hours, when in reality his feelings had been mild annoyance, which somehow translated to immense levels of scathing hot anger. He knows most of it isn’t really directed at Momo, but it’s easier to pretend he’s mad at her and her indecisiveness than anything else going on in his life. Keep it simple.
“I’VE MOVED THIS DAMN BED AT LEAST FIFTEEN DIFFERENT TIMES!” He hollers, a snarl in the back of his throat. His voice is scratchy and deeper than usual, but that’s just the wonderful effect of testorone on his body, when he yells now, it no longer sounds like a prepubescent teenager being strangled. It’s wonderful, using this new voice to yell at people. Cathartic, really.
“You’ve only moved it four times,” Momo huffs, as if that makes a goddamn difference, “And no need to yell.”
Katsuki lowers his voice simply because yelling is ineffective with Momo. “You fucking bitch, ” He seethed.
The rest of the class moved into the dorms about a week ago, and Katsuki only just moved in today, finally finishing his prison sentence of three weeks, which included almost two weeks of parent mandated therapy and almost three weeks of rough sex to forget about the parent-mandated therapy.
Of course, he was effective in unpacking and the room was small so all-in-all it took about an hour, maybe two, to put away his clothes in the drawer he brought, put together his bed, set up his closet, rearrange his drawer again and set up some designs. Nothing too sentimental, and nothing too childish. It’s a dorm, not a home.
Momo had stolen him and utilized him for her own personal needs. Like some type of mover man, which Katsuki preened at her very obvious praise for how much stronger he was and that it would be no big deal for him to move it for her— he was almost incredibly annoyed at how her indecisiveness applied to literally everything regarding the fucking bed.
“Now that you’re done with the bed can you help me put on the sheets?” She puts her long black hair into a bun, “What do you think — mauve or lavender?”
“Have you seen this bed post?” Katsuki gestures to the gold shading, “Obviously, mauve.” But he offers nothing else because his parents were fashion designers but he always preferred to stay away from the color-shading shit. It never interested him past designing his future hero costume and even then he kept it simple with orange, black, and green.
Momo nods, delighted he gave his opinion on it, and begins to pull out mauve sheets and sheer mauve ‘princess-style’ canopy curtains to lovingly flare out around the sides of her bed.
When Momo said they’d be friends, she meant that shit , Katsuki thinks. He didn’t mind, per say, since she was doing a good job of impressing him. Taking none of his shit, not coddling him, and treating him like an equal.
Don’t get him wrong— She was a prissy bitch, indecisive as all hell, and she was a lot more trouble than she was worth. But Katsuki doesn’t know… he thinks he kinda likes it. She’s friends with him in spite of his attitude, not really because of it like Kirishima is, but that doesn’t bother him.
She treated him like she treated the girls, which wasn’t bad— but he wasn’t used to it. She talked to him often, whether it was about hero things or not, made small talk, and laughed quietly at his sarcastic remarks.
At least she didn’t doll me up or something. Katsuki snorts and then jolts. Doll. Dabi calls him that.
Great— Now he’s thinking about that fucking asshole.
Dabi had been ditching him for a week now. They hung out twice since, what Katsuki likes to call, The Couch Incident (wherein Dabi pretty much told him his past) and each time lasted an hour, maybe less. Katsuki was fine with that. Sure, it sucked, but he was moving on. He can’t afford to… Fucking get attached to him like that. It wasn’t something he could do. It was just sex— illegal sex , he stresses in his mind with a wince, very illegal . The most illegal. That had more to do with the man being a wanted criminal than the age gap, really, but that was bad too, so clearly it was illegal all-around.
But still. He knows, logically, there’s a chance it was less the emotional intimacy that scared Dabi away and the fact that Katsuki was going back to school. He’d be surrounded by heroes, adults and teenagers alike, who’d put a stop to any sort of— kinship? relationship? — that the two had without a second thought. It was for the best, really, but it set Katsuki on edge. Had him on the verge of snapping physically, mentally, emotionally, verbally — take your pick.
“Hey what’s wrong?” Momo asked, her face flooding his vision. Her eyes drop in concern, shining a dark brown, and her lips are shiny with a red tint. He tries not to liken it to the shade of his own lips when he bites them long enough, trying to fill the void of Dabi not kissing them and soothing the burn.
Katsuki frowns. Momo is fine, but something screams at him to keep his mouth shut— it’s not like he can vent about the complexities of his relationship with Dabi to anyone, fine or not. He turned his head, “Nothing. Mind your business.”
Dabi is a grown ass man. He can handle himself , Katsuki reasoned. Katsuki had to focus on himself and his fucking hero license exams for the upcoming June. They had a month, maybe even less.
Aizawa had pulled him aside earlier to discuss his options.
It made his blood boil just thinking about it.
“Are you sure? I know Aizawa pulled you aside earlier…” Momo trails off.
Katsuki holds up a hand, “I’m just on my period. It’s not about anything specifically.”
Momo nods sagely. “If you need anything just let me know then. With the period, or with Aizawa.”
_________
“Bakugou. May I have a word with you?”
This line of questioning made Katsuki’s hair stand up for multiple reasons. For one, at the time, when Aizawa said it— he looked sad. Sad, like he’d been thinking on how to phrase it for days, and figured this was the only way he could, distant and cordial but polite. For two, he said it so weirdly that Katsuki didn’t have the heart to say no, in fact, all he could do was nod his head and shuffle over to the teacher. Aizawa was intimidating, and if any one of his classmates said otherwise they were lying fucks. Aizawa wasn’t intimidating because he was dangerous (even though he was) and he wasn’t intimidating because he was mean. He was intimidating, simply because he managed to coral something from Katsuki that Katsuki only ever willingly gave to about three adults in his lifetime. Respect. Not admiration, or begrudging acceptance, but genuine respect. He’d given respect to a lot of people his age— Angel Face, she was strong, not frail or weak, and gave him hell during the Sports Festival; Shitty Hair, the bastard made friends with Katsuki not in spite of his bad attitude but because of it, he didn’t care that Katsuki was an asshole most of the time; and, unfortunately, and he’d kill himself before ever saying it out loud, Deku.
Of course he respects a few more of his classmates, like Momo — who’s earning it day by day, with her proving that she can be a hero, which is badass in its own right even if she’s not quite there yet — or Iida, who despite the large stick up his ass dives head-first and doesn’t back down. But nothing genuine like those three. Not begrudging or reluctantly.
Those three earned his respect, and they would keep it as long as they proved they deserved it.
So. Aizawa earned his respect. Katsuki hopes whatever he says next doesn’t crush that.
Katsuki looks up at his teacher and doesn’t hope, because hope doesn’t do shit, and waits.
Aizawa breathes, “I’m sorry, kid.”
Katsuki wants to rage at the ‘kid’, because he isn’t one, but he’s absolutely floored at the apology. “What?” He stutters, his voice suddenly going out.
“I’m sorry, kid,” Aizawa repeated, “U.A, and I, as your teacher, failed you again. I know no apology will ever make up for what happened to you and that I’ll have to spend the rest of your highschool career making it up to you— but I will. This shouldn’t have happened to you, and it wasn’t your fault the school did not properly keep its students safe.”
Katsuki genuinely thinks he’s stopped working. Is he dead? Is this real?
“Yes,” Aizawa says, mirth in his voice, “This is real, Bakugou.”
No it’s not.
“Yes it is,” He cracked a rare smile.
Katsuki looked down at his shoes, perfectly content with admiring his white gym shoes, refusing to give Aizawa an inch.
The older man sighed and reached out to par at Katsuki’s hair, “You’re a good kid. But you should know that because of that…”
Katsuki spoke up, “You can say kidnapping,” He offers, gruffly, “Not saying the word ain’t gonna make it un- happen.”
Aizawa nods, conceding to the point, “Because of the kidnapping, it puts you at a severe disadvantage to your classmates. You lost three weeks and that entire training camp just like they did. Except they’ve had time to train after. Maybe a couple days of recuperation time and then back to their normal schedule. You haven’t.”
“So?”
“Have you heard of the License Exam?”
“Yes.”
“Well, at this rate, you won’t pass it.” At the sight of Katsuki bristling he backtracked, “That’s not a snuff at your abilities Bakugou, it’s not said to make you feel bad or like your accomplishments mean nothing— it’s a fact . It’s unreasonable to expect you to pass with everything that happened, as that was a traumatic event.”
Katsuki huffed, and opened his mouth to yell—
“It’s like expecting me to be able to teach properly after USJ,” He interrupted, which made Katsuki’s mouth click shut. He smiled in satisfaction, “I was incapacitated physically and mentally by that incident. Do you hold it against me that I couldn’t teach properly for several days?”
Katsuki shuffled his feet, “No.”
“Exactly. I can get in contact with the Hero Commission and have your exam be set privately at a later date to make it fair. It’s not right that everyone else gets more time than you to prepare, especially when you were kidnapped during prime training time.” Aizawa bulldozes on, clearly slamming Katsuki with information to get him to agree quickly and without complaint.
“Now, wait a minute old man—”
“Or, if you would like, you can take the exam with your classmates. Of course, if you fail, the score will not be completely counted against you, so you will be allowed a retake at a later date. Maybe September, as that’s when the official retake is, if you would like— or a private retake. How does that sound?”
Katsuki stood horrified as his teacher proceeded to give him multiple options. He was baffled. The opposite of happy. Upset. Viscerally upset. It was upsetting.
Aizawa smiled, crooked and genuine, at the look of shell-shocked horror on Katsuki’s face. “I know you hate when people think you’re not the best or you can’t do something. But just think about it okay?” And he just walked away from whence he came like some sort of bat from hell that suddenly decided satan was a better companion than any teenager.
Katsuki blinked in shock.
_______
“Do you want to grab lunch, Katsuki?” Momo turns to him.
Katsuki shakes his head, hair following the movement, “I’m grabbing lunch with Kirishima,” He says, “Wanna come with?”
Look at him! Extending an invitation to hangout! He’s making an effort and his therapist, Dr. Kenji, should be proud of him.
Momo nods, sparkles in her eyes. “Yes!”
She looks so eager to get to know him he almost feels bad for yelling at her earlier. He looks back towards her room and instantly shuts that train of thought down. Her bed was too much.
She doesn’t have to change— she’s wearing a simple dress and a pair of flats that put her at about the same height as Katsuki even though he’s wearing his platform sneakers which is annoying, but he doesn’t verbalize it.
They take the elevator down and cross to the other side of the building to meet up with Kirishima at the door.
“Hey,” Katsuki greets, “Bringing Princess along,” He simply states.
Kirishima turns, with a smile on his face. He’s got on a bright red shirt with black lettering, and black shorts that stop just above his knees. He’s got a headband wrapped around his forehead and the straps hanging off to the side.
“Cool! So what’re we thinking? Indian, Korean BBQ, Chinese? American, if you want, or we can get some dessert!” Kirishima rambles, talking more to Momo than to Katsuki, which Katsuki could care less for. He doesn’t care where they eat as long as it’s spicy for him and not utter garbage.
His phone buzzes in his pocket. He doesn’t check it.
He sincerely doubts it’s Dabi. And his mom is… whatever — his dad is probably busy fucking around and designing clothes in Italy or something at the moment.
He picks up the phone after the second buzz. It’s a text.
Not Dabi.
But Katsuki didn’t expect Dabi to text him, mid-day when Katsuki is back at school. Their arrangement was strictly sex, and Katsuki didn’t expect to continue it after school started up. In fact, he expected Dabi to end it quickly, not ghost him, but he supposed it was the same thing. Quick and painless.
The text, as it turns out, is from Deku. Katsuki doesn’t sneer, because he’s mature, fuck you, and he pressed the unread message.
Today, 12:36
Deku : Hey Kacchan, Shouto wants to know if you want to hang out today?
Read at 12:36
Katsuki almost laughs. Of course the pathetic nerd would text him to ask if he wanted to hang out. And not even for his own sake! For his friend, how quaint. Katsuki decides to indulge, since it hurts nothing.
He texts back his location but doesn’t bother to say anything else. It’s likely Deku will come without so much as a response, and Katsuki shouldn’t, but he does have faith in Deku’s devotion to him, afterall he has the same.
“So where are we going?” Katsuki asked.
“Korean BBQ,” Kirishima cheers, victoriously. “Which means— I’m paying!”
Momo and Katsuki share a look; Kirishima is not paying, but they won’t tell him that.
“So Katsuki,” Momo changes the subject, “Have you been doing anything lately?”
“Training,” Katsuki answers, “And when I’m not doing that, I’m out.”
“With who?” Kirishima asks, looking confused.
“Who do you think dumbass? You guys! ”
“Oh. But dude we hung out once! ”
“Exactly!” Katsuki smiles, “Now you’re getting it.” Katsuki trains almost all the time, when he isn’t with Dabi, but he obviously can’t say he’s with Dabi, so his excuse is his training.
“Woah,” Kirishima looks awed, “You smiled.”
“What?” Katsuki’s pretty face is overtaken by a frown, his carmine eyes narrowed, “No I didn’t.”
Momo hides her own smile behind her palm. “Yes, you did.”
Katsuki’s blatant refusal that he ever smiled makes Momo laugh so hard she wheezes, and to make her laugh harder he throws some elaborate curses in there that make Kirishima clutch his stomach.
Katsuki rolls his eyes at it all. It makes him feel things. Happiness, for one, which isn’t completely foreign to him— but also entirely unexpected. He thinks he likes it.
They sit in a quaint little blue booth, and order the BBQ platter, and talk while awaiting their food. Well, Momo and Kirishima talk. Katsuki just sits and listens as they talk, which— should be soothing. But all it does is make him jittery.
His mind wanders to Dabi. Dabi, whose voice can instantly calm him from whatever haze he’s in, Dabi who talks him through an orgasm without fail. Dabi, who hasn’t texted him in days.
Dabi. Dabi. Dabi .
Touya , Katsuki thinks to himself. It’s such a wonderful name.
“…—kugo… Bakugou?”
Katsuki snaps his gaze up, “Yeah?”
Kirishima plays with his straw wrapper, “Nothing. Just… You alright man?”
Katsuki raised an elegant brow. “I’m fine.”
“Well, yeah, but like. Are you alright ?”
Katsuki doesn’t get it.
Kirishima huffs, like he knows exactly what Katsuki is thinking. “I mean— you went through a traumatic experience. Do you need some space? Do you want to go back to the dorms? Are you alright? ”
And okay, wow, Katsuki didn’t expect this level of emotional maturity from Kirishima— if this can even be called emotional maturity. Katsuki pointedly doesn’t flinch away from the questions, afterall therapy prepared him for it. He opens his mouth and repeats the sentences he’s been saying for a week.
“I’m fine. I feel fine. I don’t feel any anxiety or present anger.” He repeats, slightly in a similar monotone to Todoroki.
Kirishima picks up a piece of meat and grills it. The steam that rises makes Katsuki feel scrutinized, coupled with Kirishima’s stare-down.
“I’m fine, I promise.” Katsuki says, “Don’t fuck around and eat your food.”
Kirishima is clearly unconvinced but relents and pops his piece of meat in his mouth before it burns.
_________________
“Oh you are beautiful, ” Dabi coos softly, rubbing his car with a cloth, shining his car window. “Oh I am so so lucky to have you.”
“Careful,” A dry voice says, “People might think you’re in love with it.”
“ Her name is Reyna, and you should treat her with respect.” Dabi lifts his head to glare at Hiroto, who’s unwanted opinion was sullying his up-close and personal time with Reyna. Seriously.
He’s spent an entire week doing odd jobs around his neighborhood, for gang members who need somewhere to hide, and rich people who want someone dead quick and fast, like a paid assassin. He’s been so busy, the only communication he’s had is with fucking Shigaraki and that was over his plan to fake kill himself. Which is isolating and sad and all he wants is to spend time with his beloved beauty, Reyna, without nosy lovesick neighbors in his face. For fuck’s sake.
“What happened to that blond kid you brought around?” Hiroto’s non-sequitur doesn’t exactly bother Dabi, but if he was going to be a nuisance— Dabi was just going to not interact with him.
“He has places to be.”
“Like where?”
“Like none of your business.” Dabi grunts, polishing the side door. Hiroto was so nosy.
“He looked really…”
“Really what?” Dabi rolled his eyes, “Young?”
“I was going to say two seconds away from constantly, consistently kicking your ass and winning, but yeah, sure, he’s young too.” Hiroto quips. Dabi raised a brow in mock surprise that Hiroto paid enough attention to understand that about Katsuki without having ever met him. Especially since Dabi hasn’t talked to Katsuki or brought him over in a week.
He’d like to say that the emotional vulnerability of what he is calling The Couch Incident, in his mind, is what spurred it, but it isn’t. In fact, the emotional vulnerability made Dabi want to stay. But this distance they have at the moment benefits them both. Less contact means no discoverability. For either of them. No jeopardizing his angel’s hero career and it keeps Dabi more in the dark, and his plan for the future under wraps.
“He seemed like a good kid.” Hiroto continues. “Surprised he hung out with you.”
Hung out was a very loose term. If Hiroto had used “toe curling sex” it would be understandable.
Katsuki was good, of course, a little bratty, but a good sub. That doesn’t mean in the slightest that he trusted Dabi at all or that Katsuki wasn’t completely ready to dismember Dabi for any perceived slight against him at any given opportunity. Katsuki wasn’t stupid, and Dabi honestly really liked it. He was feisty, hard to break, and bratty— which to a brat tamer like Dabi was always a bonus.
He means, that look in Katsuki’s eyes when he’s distrustful and on the fence? The look of mischievous playfulness when he’s bratty? It’s enough to get Dabi’s dick rising.
Dabi looks down. Oh.
Luckily his back is turned towards Hiroto. “Hiroto, did you want something?”
Hiroto looks at Dabi for a long moment, not calculating, but not an innocent look either. Dabi wasn’t worried; Hiroto was nosy, but not malicious. “Nope, nothing.”
“Good.” Dabi says and turns and kicks his bucket and whatever remains of his soapy water runs down the storm drain on the sidewalk.
He gets into the inside of his car without turning around at all, which wasn’t a hassle. And he locks the door behind him. He watches through tinted windows as Hiroto leaves.
Dabi sags against his seat, his arm already working at his jeans to get to the tented center. He bites his lip to hold in a moan.
“Fuck.” He looks around for some lube— he always keeps some in the car for when he just can’t hold back and Katsuki lets Dabi fuck him in the car so has lube on hand, and decides in a split-second to use whatever’s left in the small blue bottle before it expires.
His phone glints on the passenger’s seat, as soon as Dabi gets the lube uncapped and at-the-ready.
Dabi jerks his dick in his hand once and then leaves it be, letting his thoughts of Katsuki make it grow more and turn pinkish from the need to cum. As soon as the cold liquid makes contact with his pulsing, hard dick, he moans. It twitches.
Fuck. He needs Katsuki.
He looks at the clock of his watch. Katsuki wouldn’t be in class at the moment, since it’s Move-In Day for Katsuki, but it’s close to lunch isn’t it?
He glances at the phone one more time and has an awful, devious idea. A smile stretches over his face.
____________________
Katsuki stops breathing.
What the actual fuck. He’s so fucking lucky he changed Dabi’s contact name to ‘H’ yesterday evening. Even less lucky that his name flashed across the screen. Of course now of all times is the time that Dabi chooses to text him.
Icyhot leaned over. “Who is H?”
Todoroki, Tenya, and Deku got there maybe twenty minutes ago, if not thirty. Katsuki didn’t give a damn about them showing up, as he wasn't interacting much pay the occasional “shut up and go die”.
Katsuki stops breathing. Again. Icyhot asking about his brother without knowing he asking about his brother was so fucking stressful. Katsuki may have a heart attack.
Katsuki presses his phone down, flipping the screen face down on his thigh. “They’re no one. Don’t worry about it.”
His thighs clench together in interest. He doesn’t know what Dabi sent him, but he wants to.
He excused himself from the table, and by excuse, he just left with a gruff “I’m going to the bathroom.” He went to the bathroom and locked the stall door.
He reached for this phone with trembling fingers and tapped on Dabi’s contact.
“Shit,” He breathes.
Dabi’s dick is a piece of art, in a way that not even the most skilled of artists can replicate, it’s breathtaking and awe inspiring, filling up each hole in his brain to the point where Katsuki thinks he could stare at it forever.
It’s pinkish, like it’s been hard for a while and Dabi hasn’t touched it once. The piercing, for once, hasn’t sparked Katsuki’s attention— instead, Katsuki is focused on Dabi’s veiny hand which lays at the base off-center, laying innocently where his dick meets his body, like it’s there by accident.
Katsuki thinks usually when you get a nude you focus on the dick in the picture and not the hand.
Katsuki wants that hand around his fucking throat, but also not. He’s felt Dabi’s hand around his throat, once, and it was equal parts traumatic and terrifying. He was calm then too, at least in the acknowledgment that no one would save him, and it would be him on his own. Dabi wasn’t aiming to choke him out or kill him, just to hold him in place. But Katsuki doesn’t know if he’s ready for that hand to be on his throat yet.
It’s a semi-nice thought to have though.
He’s so, so tempted to ignore it. Make Dabi mad, so Katsuki can enjoy any punishment Dabi inflicts later.
He doesn’t. He calls — headphones firmly in the base of the phone and connects them to his ears, to avoid any stray listeners.
“Hey dollface.” Comes the raspy greeting, and a moan follows.
Katsuki swallows, “What the fuck.” He wasn’t angry before, because admittedly he was thinking with the wrong head— but the nonchalant greeting dialed any and all emotion to a level ten instantly. “What the fuck, Touya. It’s been a fucking week.”
“ Hello to you too, angel baby. ”
Katsuki could not give a flying fuck about the pet names, “Are you fucking serious? It’s noon on a fucking Monday you fucking patchwork bitch— I should blow your ass from here to kingdom come!”
“What, don’t tell me you missed me? Don’t like your present to make up for it?” The slick sound of lube fills Katsuki’s ears, as if Dabi squirted on his dick directly and just began to jack himself off. Fuck.
“Oh you son of a bitch,” Katsuki whimpers. “You know what you’re doing, asshole.”
“Careful, doll. ” Dabi’s voice turns dark, “You know what you call me. ”
“Yes, sir.” Is the automatic reply, and Katsuki can’t tell if he hates that he gave in so easily. Dabi groans in delight.
“Ugh, fuck you— I’m not gonna stop being mad because of you’re weird bullshit.”
“ Baby, come on. ”
“No. Do you want my forgiveness? Earn it.”
There’s a long silence. And then a ping on his phone. And then another. Katsuki opens the chat with Dabi and doesn’t breathe.
“What the fuck is this?”
“ Credit card number and pin and shit, ” Dabi breathlessly says, the slick sound returning, “ Buy whatever you want dollface. ”
“You… what.”
“ I was out doing jobs , baby. Gotta make money somehow and the League doesn’t pay. Here’s my earnings. Buy whatever your pretty little heart wants, mkay? ”
Katsuki doesn’t want his fucking— wait a minute.
“Your earnings?”
“ Yeah angel, ” Dabi whispers, “ I work odd jobs on the side, to earn some money. Stealing too often is risky, but doing odd jobs gets a steady flow of cash. That credit card is connected to my account under a fake name. It’s got about a million yen on it. ”
Katsuki swallows, suddenly feeling like the earth is disappearing beneath his feet. “That’s a lot of money.”
“ Yeah ,” Dabi rasps, “ I can make it all up in less than three jobs. Spend the money, baby. It’s all yours, if you want it. ”
Katsuki literally can’t breathe. It’s one thing for Dabi to do… whatever he’s doing with Katsuki— it’s completely another for Dabi to give Katsuki over a million yen.
“I don’t know what to say right now.”
“ Say nothing and come over please. ” Dabi whines.
“I…” Katsuki starts but gets cut off.
“ This is not transactional, by the way .” He states frankly, firmly, and Katsuki listens attentively, “ I am not giving you money for you to come suck my dick. I’m giving you money because I want to make up for leaving you alone and because I want to. Okay? ”
Katsuki feels small and he kinda likes it. “Mhm.”
“Fuck baby… Maybe I should sneak over to you to get you on my cock. I miss your cute mouth. ”
“Cute,” Katsuki replies dubiously, like Dabi isn’t jacking off to the thought of Katsuki’s tongue running up the sides of his cock.
“ So cute, babe. In fact— why don’t I come get you? I miss you on your knees. Do you miss being on your knees, angel? ”
Katsuki swallows, “…Yes, sir.” His pussy flutters around absolutely nothing, with a sort of aching need that can’t be replicated for anyone else.
“Shit Angel— I need you. ” And maybe Katsuki’s a little fucked up, but hearing that he’s needed by someone, just tips the scale.
”Unless you want blood all over your bed, that’s a no go.”
Dabi goes shockingly silent. “ Well… I’m not.. opposed… ”
Katsuki gasps, “You sick fuck.”
“Well, considering I am a murderer, blood doesn’t bother me much. You have other holes, don’t you?”
“Wow,” Katsuki dryly responds, “Be still my heart. You know you’re a really fucked up person.”
“ Shit— you think you can get away to see me?”
“I think I can lie my way out of this lunch and get to you in under thirty.” Katsuki is completely serious right now, and means every word. He could, he can, and if Dabi says it: he will.
Dabi hesitates. “I’m at my place.”
“Just so you know, I think this is a terrible idea.” Katsuki unlocks the bathroom stall, “Like, genuinely.”
“Then we won’t even do anything.” Dabi states, “Safeword?”
“Red.”
“Good. You know how to use it if you need to.” And with that, Dabi hangs up.
Katsuki is on his period, horny, a little hungry, and angry. How dare that bitch hang up on him before he can?
Katsuki races up the stairs, too wired to use the elevator, and before he goes he sees Hiroto about the enter the elevator and yelps, “Hey Hiroto— bye Hiroto!”
Hiroto waves, confused, because he never officially met Katsuki in any capacity and he probably assumed Katsuki didn’t know his name let alone his face, which is honestly very valid.
Katsuki is ashamed to admit he used his quirk, left out of the fire escape door, close enough to the third floor, and raced from there to the fire escape outside Dabi’s window. He opens the window with a click and sees Dabi on his bed, cock in hand, groaning as he squeezes it.
“Hi baby,” Dabi greets.
Katsuki closes the window and yanks off his shoes before dropping on the bed. “Give me your dick.”
Dabi laughs, “You traveled thirty minutes for a blowjob? You really are a cockslut, Angel.”
“You gave me one million yen, Touya.” Katsuki hisses, “You are getting your dick sucked.”
Katsuki just goes straight for it. Dabi stops him.
“We should use the ropes.”
Katsuki snaps, “What’s the point? You can’t exactly fuck me right now.”
Katsuki is not having sex on his period. That’s gross. This morning he felt too sick to stand up, he is not going to have sex on his period.
Dabi opens his mouth. Then closes it, clearly about to say that they totally could, actually, but politely refrains. “Fine. Next time then. How long exactly does your period last?”
Katsuki shrugs, “Five days, maybe six.”
“What day are you on now?”
“Day two.”
Dabi whines. “Are you sure no ropes?”
Katsuki rolls his eyes, “Do you have a pair of handcuffs?”
Dabi motions to his drawer, which Katsuki pulls the silvery pair out and places the key beside it in his back pocket. He kisses Dabi hard enough to grab his attention and maneuvers his arms so they’re above his head and right by the headboard.
He places the cuffs on Dabi’s wrists without hesitation.
“Uh, baby?” Dabi does an experimental yank from where his hands are cuffed to the headboard above his head, the chain wrapped around one of the individual pieces of wood.
”Safeword?”
Dabi looks at him curiously, “Red. But what is—?”
Katsuki gives a devilish grin, “Be a good Daddy and sit back and let me do the work, yeah?” And without any sort of pause, he pushes himself back down to Dabi’s dick and gives it an experimental lick.
Dabi throws his head back and moans. Katsuki lowers his head further until the head is pushing against the back of his throat, he shifts so it doesn’t uncomfortably press against him, but he doesn’t gag.
He swallows against the thick weight in his mouth, before pulling himself off and lowering himself back on again. He gurgles around the salty taste of precum in the back of his throat.
The feel, the taste, the scent of Dabi is enough to drive him fucking crazy. He looks up, eyes meeting Dabi’s— and the visual is indescribable. His blue eyes are wide and ferociously possessive, as if Dabi is trying to claw out Katsuki’s soul through his eyes and keep it all for himself. Steam rises bit by bit from Dabi’s hands, as if it’s taking everything in him not to let it all out, with flickers of blue flame popping out, making his eyes glow in the shadows.
His face is flushed against his piercings and his head is only slightly tilted, so Katsuki can see every minute detail. He swallows, again, and watches as Dabi’s throat constricts with a choked moan and his hips thrust up involuntarily.
Katsuki lifts himself off and swirls his tongue along the sides, paying no attention to the weeping mess that is Dabi’s head.
“Oh Katsuki, Katsuki, Katsuki please please please baby.” Dabi begs, and oh does his begging illicit a sharp gasp of pleasure from Katsuki, who squeezes his legs closed, knowing nothing would fill him up but suddenly regretting his decision to not let Dabi do it.
Katsuki teases him anyway, despite the begging, because he wants to hear more. He changes pace as soon as Dabi’s voice gets louder, going faster and faster, and when he thinks Dabi is going to come based on the stutter of his hips— he slows down or stops completely, pulling his spit-slicked and abused lips away from Dabi’s cock without a moment’s hesitation.
It’s funny, almost. To watch a deadly, fiery King fall apart under Katsuki’s fingertips, is as addicting as it is beautiful. Katsuki watches as Dabi’s fingers singe the headboard, leaving blackened marks of fire and death in his wake. All destructive and flames, but Katsuki can’t get enough.
He sees the Kingdom of Elysium. The Fields of Paradise as soon as his eyes meet Dabi’s again. Carmine-red meets Turquoise-blue, and it’s suddenly like Katsuki hasn’t been separated from Dabi at all. Like that week never existed and their separation was only a bad dream, not reality, not them.
Katsuki gasps once Dabi comes down his throat, constricting his airways, if only to bring more mutual pleasure to them both. Dabi groans in relief, almost sobbing, glad to be free from the stimulation.
Dabi slumps against the headboard and flutters his eyes closed. Katsuki watches, amused, and throat thoroughly abused.
Apparently the only thing that can make Dabi speechless is Katsuki’s mouth. Which is just as satisfying as it sounds, in Katsuki’s humble opinion.
_____________
Katsuki leaves after. He stays for several hours but Dabi knows he can’t spend the night anymore. So Katsuki forces himself to leave Dabi’s bed and forces himself to the train station. Dabi floated in and out of consciousness in which Katsuki uncuffs him and takes a washcloth to wipe him down of sweat and cum. He gives him water and cuddles and tells him that he was so so good, and you’re fucking amazing, do you understand me? god you’re so perfect. and he holds his head and whispers about what he did the past week Dabi was gone, to make it seem like Dabi was never gone at all.
When Katsuki leaves it is both with bitterness and fondness. Katsuki hates that he has to remind himself that their allegiances are different. They aren’t playing for the same team— no matter how sweet or mean or soothing Dabi was, he would never be a hero, and Katsuki would never be a villain. They just couldn’t.
He wouldn’t be the blond slut that fell in love with the first guy he ever fucked. He wasn’t… He wasn’t a fucking dumbass, okay? He knows it’s wrong and he knows Dabi’s crazy. He knows.
But Dabi makes him feel better. Dabi’s hands, his voice, his touch— it made all of the nightmares, all the crying, all the early morning dissociations disappear. Katsuki could breathe with Dabi and if all he had to do in return was engage in mutual pleasure, Katsuki wouldn’t turn it away. He would indulge .
It was just… It was peaceful . Katsuki wanted peace, and he had it and he wasn’t going to let it go. It was better than thinking about All Might, and Deku, and three days without his family.
He goes back to the dorms and goes straight to his room, hoping that no one knocks on his door. He wants to lay down and just. Think.
He’s laying down, head on his pillow when Dabi texts him goodnight. Katsuki stares at the text and prays that he hasn’t gotten attached— that he hasn’t been relying on Dabi to make him feel alright for too long, that he hasn’t been using sex to distract from nightmares and fear of touch and the choking feeling that comes with being in public. He hopes that the nervous butterflies he feels because of the text are because he’s scared of getting caught, and not because Dabi makes him nervous.
(He hopes the reliance is in his head and he tries to tell himself he isn’t attached.)
He texts back a good night.
(He knows he is.)