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Kirishima always wanted to meet his soulmate.
From the very first day his elementary class was taught about the Links soulmates share, Kirishima had daydreamed the many ways he could meet his. Most of his friends liked to imagine it would be once they became heroes—that one day they’d rescue someone, their Links would activate, and they’d live happily ever after. Since Links activate in times of high stress or high emotion, the rescue fantasies weren’t impossible. A popular Link theory is that they’re a form of survival instinct, like the adrenaline that floods your system when you're in danger. Whether the bond is mental, emotional, or physical, when soulmates become Linked they’re supposed to become stronger. It’s for that reason that when Kirishima dreamed of meeting his soulmate, he didn’t dream of rescuing them.
He dreamed they’d be a hero, too.
But if someone had told Kirishima back in middle school that his soulmate would turn out to be Todoroki Shouto—a recommendation student at UA, Half Hot-Half Cold quirk user, and unarguably the prettiest person he’s ever seen—well, he probably would have laughed. There was no way someone as normal as him could be Linked to someone as extraordinary as that.
(He’s lucky, Kirishima supposes, they didn’t meet until high school.)
It happens in Kamino, because apparently fate decided they needed one more thing to worry about on top of Bakugou’s rescue, One For All, and, you know, surviving the night.
One moment it’s the four of them, backs to the wall, pure terror pinning them in place—the next it’s as if a dam burst in Kirishima’s head, flooding his senses until his mind becomes an echo chamber, the panic amplified, the fear rebounding. It’s not just feelings but thoughts, passing through his mind at lightning speed, muffling the terror and trying to devise a way out of this.
It takes him a few long moments to realize the thoughts are not his own.
And then it clicks. Without moving his head, Kirishima’s gaze slides to the right; Todoroki is already looking back at him, his eyes wide, jaw clenched.
There’s new fear, then—stronger than their bewilderment and as instinctual as the primal terror One For All unleashed upon his arrival. A thought passes between them:
I could lose my soulmate tonight.
Kirishima never does figure out whose mind it originates from, just as he doesn’t know which provided the reply with a conviction that steeled them both.
That’s not gonna happen.
—
The bond grows less intense once they’re out of immediate danger—it’s a good thing, too; living too long in someone else’s head is never as good as they make it out to be in movies. It’s almost… anticlimactic, the way they fade back into their lives and routines, yet forever changed by this additional bit of knowledge: they’re soulmates.
It’s like this: Todoroki can always tell when he’s particularly happy, even when they’re in separate rooms, on separate floors. He can tell when the smile Kirishima puts on isn’t genuine. He can tell by aches and soreness when Kirishima goes unbreakable.
Todoroki is harder to read, sure, if you only go by his face. But Kirishima quickly learns, even with the muted bond, that contrary to popular belief Todoroki does feel—a lot, and intensely. The boy just has a good pokerface. Kirishima can tell when Endeavor has been messaging Todoroki more often (yeah—they’d had that talk too), and when he is sleepy (which is a lot). He’s able to pinpoint with near complete accuracy when Todoroki is eating cold soba based on the sheer delight that Todoroki feels, like a small ember in his chest.
This sharing of senses is a lot for some people, but it’s never been more than they could handle. At times, when the need to focus was particularly high, they could even tune it out. But as first year turns to second, and second turns to third, they find themselves almost never muting their connection.
It’s only at the end of third year, when everything comes to a head, that Kirishima wonders if it’s something they both should have practiced.
—
It starts like this—waking with a gasp in the midst of a wet dream, the kind that’s hot and hazy and leaves him with sweaty sheets, his briefs sticking uncomfortably to his flushed skin.
It’s fine though. He’s nineteen, young, and apparently very horny. Wet dreams happen. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, and he puts it out of his mind.
But then it happens the next night.
He combats it the same way he had as a young teenager, when his hormones raged and he was first learning just how good it could be to touch himself when he was horny, or stressed, or tired…
Or just bored.
Back then, the only sure way to stave off ruined sheets and the embarrassment of having to do his laundry multiple times a week (while also avoiding explaining why to his moms) was to get off just before bed.
So that’s what Kirishima tries the next night—working himself up with a familiar fantasy of warm hands and cool kisses, his fingers ghosting over his own chest, hips, thighs, in teasing touches. He doesn’t draw it out, but takes enough time on himself that he shudders and shakes through it, enough that it leaves him loose and boneless and sleepy. He has just enough energy to clean himself up before he rolls up in his blankets, calling it a success. He’s asleep within minutes…
…and wakes hours before his alarm, a hot flush burning down his chest, hips pressing into his mattress in the aftershocks of an orgasm.
He tries again the next night; this time the orgasm Kirishima wrings from himself is perfunctory, physical, and not nearly as satisfying as the night before—or even the wet dreams—but, he thinks, it’ll do the job.
When Kirishima wakes up hard for the fifth morning in a row, he accepts that he might have a bit of a problem.
—
“-rishima. Kirishima?”
Kirishima blinks out of his daze at the sound of Todoroki’s voice, and realizes this rest of 3-A has already filed out of their classroom for the weekend. It’s just the two of them left, and Todoroki is peering down at him from where he’s leaned his hip against Kirishima’s desk, head tipped curiously to the side.
“Are you feeling okay?” Todoroki asks, for what appears to not be the first time if the furrow in his brow is anything to go by.
“Yeah,” Kirishima manages a smile, shaking his fuzzy thoughts from his head and leaning back in his chair with a stretch. “Yeah, I’m good. Just tired… haven’t been sleeping too well this week.”
Todoroki hums what could be the start of a laugh, reaching out to cup Kirishima’s cheek and sweep a thumb along the bags under his eyes.
“I can see that…” Todoroki murmurs, then ducks to press a light kiss to Kirishima’s lips.
Kirishima sighs into it, kissing back and feeling some of his exhaustion ebb as the Link between them flares. It’s always present, a gentle thrumming thing, but when they’re like this—close, touching, breathing each other’s air—he can feel it more strongly than he has since it first formed that night in Kamino.
“If you’re sure…” The doubtful tease is a mumble against Kirishima’s lips, and Todoroki smiles wryly as he draws back. Kirishima follows, leaning up for one more kiss before slumping back into the chair with a content sigh. Todoroki picks hand up absently from the desk, long fingers interlacing with his own. “You want to come up to mine tonight?”
It’s a fairly innocuous question when asked in Todoroki’s usual monotone. And it could be innocent enough, Kirishima supposes. Half the nights that start with this kind of invitation end with them snuggling in one of their beds, a movie streaming on a laptop that’s precariously balanced on their knees.
It’s the other nights that make Kirishima pause now, eyes flicking up to assess Todoroki’s expression, the way he keeps his eyes on his own fingers playing with Kirishima’s, and feeling the way their Link is buzzing.
The other half of those nights bring a flush to Kirishima’s cheeks because they’re the current object of his nightly fantasies.
They haven’t done much more than kiss, technically. And that’s fine—they’re both incredibly busy finishing their final year of courses before they graduate and become full-fledged heroes, and it’s not like Kirishima has ever asked if Todoroki wants to go further. But Kirishima isn’t at all ashamed to admit that he’s really fucking attracted to his boyfriend/soulmate (he can’t decide if the former feels redundant because of the latter, or if he likes it exactly for that reason). He won’t rush Todoroki, and is more than content to keep kissing him forever if that’s what he wants—but if Kirishima gets off before bed a couple time a week thinking about those nights, and about what could come next… he doesn’t think anyone could blame him.
In light of his current nightly problem, though, it strikes him that this could be another solution.
He squeezes his fingers in Todoroki’s grip, causing the other’s eye’s to flit up and meet his. Kirishima smiles.
“Let’s go.”
—
They’d both been tentative when the bond between them had turned from trust, to friendship, to this. But now, months into it, it’s settled into the familiar. Frankly, it had been hard not to develop feelings for someone when you’re so in-tune to their emotions and wellbeing. Their friends had been surprised at how long it’d taken them to start a romantic relationship, but it had never been a rush for Kirishima and Todoroki. They’d been cautious about getting in over their heads, and each quietly enjoyed the way they’d revolved around the other for months and years, inevitably drawn together again and again.
It made ending up here all the more satisfying.
They go to Todoroki’s room because, between the two of them, Todoroki’s close friends are more likely to at least knock before entering. It’s a good thing, too, Kirishima thinks—he’d rather not have an audience for this. Because once he has Todoroki in his lap, knelt up over his hips, hands mussing Kirishima’s hair from its gelled spikes as he licks into his mouth—Kirishima wouldn’t notice if the door was barreled down.
The Link between them is singing.
Todoroki thumbs over the hinge in Kirishima’s jaw, letting his tongue slip inside his mouth to trace the pointed edges of his teeth. Kirishima lets him explore, a hot flush running through him at how much Todoroki has ended up liking how sharp his teeth were. But eventually he does get impatient, using those teeth to nip at Todoroki’s full lower lip.
Two things happen at once:
Todoroki’s breath rattles in a pleased gasp, his hips grinding down automatically against Kirishima’s hips—
—and Kirishima feels a corresponding sting in his own lip, the jolt of pleasure accompanying the feeling going straight to his core.
“That’s new,” Kirishima breathes, tugging Todoroki back to him with a hand around the back of his neck so he can mouth at his jaw.
“Hm?” Todoroki hums questioningly in return, tipping his head back to accommodate Kirishima’s kisses but preoccupied with slipping his hands under Kirishima’s tank top at the sides.
“When I bit you,” he explains, breath hitched, trying not to get derailed as Todoroki’s hands slide over his pecs, “I felt it.”
That makes Todoroki pause, pulling back and blinking at him slightly owlishly.
“… And that’s new?” he finally asks.
“Yeah?” Kirishima returns, and he hears the doubt in his own voice. “Uh… Should that not be new?”
Todoroki snorts, and that honestly should be a mood breaker, but instead something warm and fluttery flares in Kirishima’s chest at the sight of Todoroki Shouto in his lap, usually neat hair and clothes completely mussed, teasing him mid-hookup.
“Kirishima,” he says, voice flat, “you do realize we’re Linked. Right?”
Kirishima can’t help his splutter at the obvious, and doesn’t deign it with a response.
Todoroki just looks at him though, eyebrows raising, and Kirishima hopelessly feels like he’s missing something obvious.
“We’re Linked,” Todoroki tries again, emphasizing the word. “That mean’s you feel what I feel.”
Kirishima nods, because yes—they’ve shared enough emotions since their bond formed to solidify that, thanks—but Todoroki continues.
“That means…” He rolls his hips to emphasize his point, grinding lightly into Kirishima where they’re pressed together, and alongside the pleasure that stems from the contact is another, fainter, echo of heat in his belly. “You feel what I feel when we’re like this, too.”
“O-oh,” Kirishima flounders, hands going to Todoroki’s hips to encourage him to do that again, but also mentally berating himself because how did he miss this?
They settle into a clumsy but effective rhythm, Kirishima’s grip guiding him down harder as Todoroki drapes his arms over Kirishima’s shoulders, mouthing up his neck in cold kisses soothed with hot flicks of his tongue.
“You know what I also feel?” Todoroki murmurs into his ear, and Kirishima’s questioning hm? turns into more of a whine when one of the hands that had slipped back under his tank top pinches at a nipple, rolling over the bud.
“You,” Todoroki says, kissing at the hinge of his jaw, “getting yourself off every night before bed.”
Kirishima is so distracted and overwhelmed by these new sensations that it takes a moment for the words to properly register. But when they do he swears his face catches fire.
“W-what?”
“It didn’t used to be so often,” Todoroki muses, ignoring Kirishima’s flustered shock and instead focusing on his chest, his abs, the muscles of his shoulders with insistent touches. “I could feel when you were turned on, sure. But ever since last week…” he laughs a little, and presses a reverent kiss to the hollow of Kirishima’s throat before pulling back to look him head on. “Do you have any idea how distracting you are?”
It’s another tease, that’s clear from his tone, but there’s a look in his eyes that sets Kirishima off-kilter. There’s a warmth and a self-assurance—Todoroki is completely comfortable in that moment, with him. More than that, he looks ridiculously, stupidly happy.
Fuck. Kirishima’s in love with him.
However, he discovers that it’s completely possible to be in love and also extremely fucking embarrassed at the same time, because oh my god Todoroki felt him masturbating.
The squeak he emits definitely isn’t comprehensible words, but Todoroki just nods patiently, pulling his hands back and letting Kirishima work through this somewhat mortifying development.
“You really—?” Kirishima manages, muffled through his own hands covering his face.
“Yeah.”
“This whole time?!”
“Yep,” Todoroki confirms, reaching up to gentle Kirishima’s hands out of his hair where they’d begun to grip in his embarrassment.
The fact that it was possible for Todoroki to feel him getting off, not just physically, but actually feel his arousal, somehow never occurred to him.
“I’m an idiot,” Kirishima whines, slumping back against the wall.
“Not an idiot,” Todoroki disagrees, bumping their foreheads, then his lips quirk mischievously and he concedes, “…Okay, maybe a little bit of an idiot.”
“See!”
“I honestly thought you’d catch on once I started doing it back.”
Kirishima’s brain does the equivalent of a record scratch.
“You—what.”
Todoroki rolls his eyes and leans back on his hands, giving Kirishima a distractingly good view of the length of his torso.
“You can’t blame me for being wound up—it was just going to be that first night, once I figured you were asleep… but then you kept it up every night.” He sighs. “I wanted to bring it up when you looked so exhausted this week, but I couldn’t think of a way that wasn’t… extremely awkward.”
Kirishima snorts distractedly at that sentiment, but he’s preoccupied by the other part of what Todoroki had said.
Once I figured you were asleep.
And just that, the puzzle pieces snap into place.
“Oh my god, it was you!” Kirishima exclaims, sitting upright and nearly toppling Todoroki off his lap, but Kirishima just follows him down, elbows propped on either side of Todoroki’s head.
“What was me?” Todoroki asks, bewildered, but Kirishima just laughs in relief before kissing him firmly on the mouth.
“All week,” he explains, kissing Todoroki every few words, “I’ve been having the most vivid wet dreams. Worse than a fucking teenager. And that was you.”
Todoroki hums contentedly into the kiss, tugging Kirishima closer with hands that tangle in his hair, and the vibration of it rumbles through their chests where they’re pressed together.
“Yeah,” Todoroki breathes, licking over his swollen lower lip when they break for air, and Kirishima watches the move with half-lidded eyes. “Yeah, that was probably my fault. Whoops.”
“Whoops?” Kirishima laughs breathlessly, burying his face in Todoroki’s chest. “Do you know how many loads of laundry I’ve had to do this week?!”
“Sorry?” Todoroki tries, sounding anything but as his hands creep up the back of Kirishima’s shirt.
“Sorry, he says.”
“How about next time you’re thinking about getting off before bed,” Todoroki suggests, voice incredibly casual, “we just… take care it together.”
If Kirishima hadn’t had an ear to his chest, he might not have noticed the way Todoroki’s pulse sped up at the suggestion. But even without that tell, he would’ve felt it through their Link: the affection, the arousal, the love—because Kirishima might have been oblivious to some things, but love is one emotion he’s never missed when it comes to Todoroki.
“Yeah,” Kirishima says, rising up to kiss Todoroki once more. “Yeah, I think we can make that happen.”