Izuku knew it was coming.
He knew it was coming the moment it was his name, and not Kacchan’s, beside the number one spot on the hero ranking chart. He knew it was coming as he glanced over at his friend, his rival, his partner, and received not a glare but a nod of acknowledgement.
He knew it was coming, and that’s why he excused himself from the event earlier than his past attendances, meeting Kacchan’s eyes, a silent form of communication; a request, an agreement.
Things aren’t the way they used to be, but some insecurities run too deep to ever eradicate entirely. Some wounds can only be managed - given an outlet to prevent the consumption of their bearer’s existence… and when Izuku began to observe Kacchan’s behavior following any instance of Izuku surpassing him in any area of heroics, it didn’t take him long to prove his hypothesis. After an inciting incident, Kacchan will become tense, curt, irritable, getting unreasonably frustrated at any perceived failure or underperformance - however mundane - until, at some point over the next five to ten days, he gives Izuku one of their more... intense... sessions.
The next morning, he’s invariably back to normal.
And so, after toweling off his hair and slipping into a fresh t-shirt and boxers, he fetches Kacchan’s favorite rope from their toy box, brushing his thumbs over the rough surface as sits on the edge of their bed, the room silent aside from the faint white noise of a running shower in the adjacent bathroom.
When the click of a door signals the end of Kacchan’s shower, he holds it in his lap, meeting his partner’s gaze as he steps over the threshold.
Red eyes narrow as they fall on the rope. “Seriously? You want that now?”
You need this now, Izuku thinks, but saying so seems like a bad plan when his goal is getting Kacchan to practice some form of self-care. “Um, yes,” he says instead, flushing and breaking eye contact with a nervous laugh. It feels weird to be the one proposing this. Usually Kacchan just jumps him as soon as they close the front door. “Please...?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Kacchan’s eyes narrow, suspicious. After a few seconds of silence, though, his posture relaxes, shoulders dropping with his gaze as a grin spreads across his face. “Tch. Thought you said you were tired?” he says, dropping his own towel over the back of a chair as he advances towards Izuku.
“I got a second wind…?” Izuku responds with a meek smile.
“Yeah?” Kacchan responds, reaching out to take the rope and setting it aside on the bed, never breaking eye contact. Izuku would normally shiver with anticipation, but something in Kacchan’s eyes is less predatory, and more... vulnerable than he would expect.
He reaches up to touch the side of Kacchan’s face. Maybe this affected him more than those other incidents… after all, this is the subject of their competition for the past decade… maybe it was wrong of Izuku to assume that what Kacchan needs now is the same as—
Before his train of thought can make much more progress, Kacchan closes the distance between them, capturing Izuku’s lips in a slow, intimate kiss. Izuku brushes his hand around to wind his fingers into the hair at the back of Kacchan’s head, parting his lips to drag his tongue across his partner’s chapped lower lip in response to the sensation of teeth nipping at his own.
He hums a pleased moan as he’s rewarded with tongue in his mouth, a deep kiss that consumes his senses to a point that he only becomes aware that he’s pulling Kacchan down on top of him when his back hits the mattress.
It’s not that they don’t do it like this sometimes. Izuku just wasn’t expecting it in a moment that should, by all past evidence, have Kacchan throwing him to his knees and pushing the boundaries of his sadistic tendencies.
But maybe that’s not what he needs today. Maybe, today, in the face of Izuku’s victory, he needs something different.
In either case, all Izuku wants right now, the singular goal driving his actions, is to give it to him.
He gasps for breath as they briefly break apart, his partner’s fingers exploring upward beneath the hem of his tee, his own tangled in short, choppy locks. “Ah- Kacchan…”
Kacchan drags his tongue over Izuku’s neck, nipping the exposed skin, pressing a leg between Izuku’s to tease his growing erection with a marriage of pressure and friction, and Izuku fails at suppressing both a moan and the rolling of his hips in search of more.
These aren’t actions that say you’re mine. This isn’t a reminder of the power Kacchan holds over him regardless of his successes. Kacchan expresses himself by doing, and what he’s doing right now says, loud and clear, I love you. You earned it. I respect you.
Izuku presses his eyelids shut in an attempt to suppress the tears of gratitude threatening to cascade down his cheeks, over his freckles. He doesn’t see Kacchan reaching for those same cheeks, pulling him into another slow, lascivious kiss, his partner’s hips twitching with aborted thrusts against the straining fabric of Izuku’s boxers.
They remain entangled in each other for what feels like both an eternity and an instant, only breaking apart when one of Kacchan’s hands migrates upwards to Izuku’s forehead, fingers slipping into his hairline and finding purchase. Izuku opens his eyes, glassy with suppressed emotion, and meets his gaze.
For an instant, he’s transported back in time. He’s sixteen again, his back against the hard ground after losing a fight, Kacchan sweaty and panting above him, fingers tracing those same paths along his scalp.
Kacchan kisses him, and everything he thought he knew about their relationship shatters when he finds himself kissing back.
He’s not sure if Kacchan’s hand closing around his wrist is in the past or the present, but he whines on both occasions, trembling with need, his back arching as his arm is held firmly above his head. He flushes slightly at the proof that even now, over half a decade later, his submissive tendencies can be put on full display by such a simple gesture.
When Kacchan sits up, the cool bedroom air makes the damp stain on his boxers impossible to ignore. Kacchan smirks. “Second wind, huh? Sure you weren’t lying ‘cuz you were so desperate for me to mess you up?”
Izuku’s not sure he can flush any deeper, but if he could, he probably would be. “M-maybe…”
Kacchan finally reaches for the rope, briefly contemplating it before slowly bringing his gaze back up over Izuku’s needy, pinned body. “... You sure it’s okay for me to do this to the Number One Hero?” he says, clearly intending for it to sound like a joke, but Izuku knows better. Izuku sees the minutiae of hesitation and uncertainty in every movement and every word.
Izuku gives him what he hopes is an encouraging smile. “I’m just Deku right now, Kacchan.”
Kacchan breaks their gaze, weighing the rope in his hand for several long moments of silence. “... Izuku.”
Izuku stares. The way he said it sounded more like a question; a request for permission to use his given name under these circumstances. Usually, during their sessions, he calls him Deku, a third meaning for the nickname only shared with each other. But now… Deku isn’t an insult any more. Deku is the name of the Number One Hero. Maybe that’s what Kacchan needs today. To finally leave behind Deku, and just be with Izuku.
Izuku nods, pushing himself up to close the distance. “Izuku. Midoriya… Izuku.”
Kacchan closes the final few inches, pulling Izuku into another kiss, volatile hands pulling the hem of his shirt up over his torso until they break apart to allow its removal. When lips return to Izuku’s skin, it’s at his neck again, a series of sharp, pinching nips that draw gasps from his throat. Fingers wander up his newly exposed skin, thumbs finding nipples already firm and brushing across them feather-light, sending torturous waves of pleasure down his spine to his twitching cock. “Mmn…”
Before he can recover, fingers return to his hair and wrist, turning him around before pulling his arms back and beginning to bind them, swiftly working through the familiar sequence of motions that Izuku recognizes as his favorite upper body tie, ropes winding around his chest, securing his arms behind him. He stills at the sensation, allowing his partner to manipulate his limbs and body as desired, the slide and pressure of fibers against his skin turning him to putty.
“All right?” Kacchan says, tugging the bindings.
“Yes,” Izuku responds, his voice breathy with need. “K-Kacchan…”
“Shut up,” his partner commands, pulling Izuku back into his lap and coaxing a quiet yelp of surprise from the Number One Hero at the sudden movement. Kisses pepper his neck, a hand lazily slipping across rope and flesh to capture a nipple and roll it between finger and thumb.
Izuku melts at the stimulation, only peripherally aware of the thumb hooking into the waistband of his boxers and beginning to slide the precum-stained garment down his thighs. His cock twitches at its new found freedom, but is only without contact for a few seconds before Kacchan begins to stroke the slick head lazily, earning a quiet, desperate moan.
“Jeez, you really are desperate, huh?”
Kacchan’s hard length presses against his ass through his boxers, and Izuku can’t help grinding back against it, wanting nothing more than to feel it stretch him open as Kacchan’s fingers milk him dry… god, yes—
Kacchan lets out a hot, heavy sigh behind him, pressing his hips closer, rolling slowly against Izuku’s naked rear. “Shit… want me to fuck you, Izuku? Is that it?”
He’s too desperate to be embarrassed, smearing precum all over Kacchan’s hand as he bucks his hips erratically in search of more. “Nnnghhyes, Kacchan, yes-”
“Tough,” Kacchan says, and Izuku whines as the slick liquid coating his fingers is smeared on his chest before his partner gets to his feet to go browse their collection of items.
The last thing he sees before Kacchan blindfolds him is several additional coils of rope, newly placed at the corner of the bed.
The bindings continue south, winding around his hips and the juncture of his thighs, fast yet meticulous. When fingers brush over the curve of his behind, he knows Kacchan did a good job… or, at least, one he’s satisfied with despite his astronomical standards, and he can’t stop a smile from tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Kacchan must be either refining his game plan or teasing him, because Izuku is then left kneeling on the bed for several minutes, the only clue as to his activities the sound of additional items being perused or extracted from their collection: metallic clinks, a thud, the shuffling of plastic… he consults his mental list of potential objects, trembling with anticipation at the possibilities.
Just when he’s in the middle of coming up with the seventh potential combination of items that could make those particular sounds, hands return to his back, securing a new length of rope to the knots above his wrists and then a second to the harness around his hips. A half-minute of light tension on the new additions gives way to heavy tension as his upper body is pushed forward, sending him falling toward the mattress until taut rope leaves him on his knees, his upper half parallel to the surface below, the ropes at his back the only thing preventing him from tipping over, presumably secured to the hook embedded into the ceiling.
The bed dips as Kacchan joins him, a few seconds passing before a palm explores the smooth skin of his ass, thumb pressing at the juncture, barely two inches from his hole. “This what you wanted?”
“Yeah? Gonna keep presenting your ass until it gets fucked?” The thumb tugs at the flesh of his rear slightly for emphasis, and he moans.
God, yes, he thinks, his cock twitching at the prospect.
“I didn’t fucking hear you.”
“Yes! Yes… I’ll be good… ngh.” He steadies as the hand leaves, allowing the ropes to hold the entirety of his weight, gathering his breath.
Kacchan shifts, and the next thing he feels is fingers lazily, almost absentmindedly exploring his shaft, like an afterthought.
“Hh… haah…” Izuku squeezes his eyes shut tight beneath the blindfold, the touch torturously light, and with his body bound in this position, there’s nothing he can do to chase more but squirm pathetically, finding purchase with his knees to rock his body forward.
Kacchan’s hand immediately retreats, and he lets out a frustrated exhale, heavy with need.
“Keep that shit up and I’ll leave you here all night,” he warns, and Izuku sighs, returning to his previous limp position.
Kacchan apparently sees fit to punish him anyway, going nowhere near his cock for several minutes, instead indifferently rubbing slow circles over a nipple, slick with smeared precum, before moving to the other, ignoring Izuku’s embarrassingly high-pitched whimpers of desperation. One of the downsides… or upsides, and he’s never sure which… of discovering pretty much everything he knows about his body and its responses to this kind of stimulation with Kacchan is that Kacchan knows all of his most sensitive points, in intimate detail, and will habitually use this information to wind him up until he’s convinced he could come from a single touch.
“Kacchan-” he says, between panting breaths, “K-Kacchan, please…!”
Kacchan shifts next to him, like he just remembered his existence. “Shit, look at you.”
Sweat beading on his forehead, mouth open, legs spread, cock likely leaking excessive amounts of precum onto the sheets… yeah, he probably looks as desperate as he feels.
“Fuck, wonder what could I get you to do to get off… or is it what I couldn’t get you to do?” Fingers grip his jaw, tilting his head up.
“A-anything…” Izuku says, trusting him completely.
“Oh yeah? Anything? How about I use that annoying mouth for something more useful, then?”
Izuku allows his tongue to slip out as the salty-slick tip of Kacchan’s cock meets his lips, obediently lapping at the droplets of precum before fingers twist into his hair, holding him in place as Kacchan pushes into his mouth, pinning his tongue to its floor.
He pushes deep, Izuku’s gag reflex bringing tears to the corners of his eyes. “Mmngh-”
“Fuck, if I could do this every time you start…” Kacchan breathes, ragged with pleasure, and Izuku becomes belatedly aware that his blindfold has been removed. He cracks open wet eyes to meet Kacchan’s gaze, dragging his tongue along the bottom of the hot length filling his mouth, and Kacchan shudders, his eyes falling shut. “Shit, Izuku, fuck-”
If Izuku could grin, he would. Kacchan might know his weaknesses, but in return, he gets to memorize every detail of Kacchan’s… and making eye contact is near the top of the list. Instead, he just hums, a throaty moan that sends tiny vibrations into Kacchan’s throbbing length, causing his partner to gasp again, the grip in his hair tightening in a way Izuku suspects is involuntary.
Kacchan never lasts long with Izuku swallowing him down like it’s a competition. He also has a habit of getting completely lost in it, making those short, quick thrusts into his mouth until he reaches the point of no return whether he intended to or not... and that’s exactly what happens this time. Kacchan, realizing his error, makes a too-late attempt at pulling out, but the drag of Izuku’s tongue on the underside of his twitching cock has him exploding onto said tongue with a yelled curse, the final string of milky discharge shooting past the mark and coating Izuku’s cheek and nose.
“Fuck… shit …” Kacchan gasps in a post-orgasmic haze.
Izuku swallows what’s in his mouth. It doesn’t taste good, but the last time he let it drip out onto the sheets, Kacchan had him clean it up with his tongue regardless, and he’d rather have it over with quickly than have to endure that particular humiliation again…
“Fuck , you’re good at that,” Kacchan says, still catching his breath, wiping his forehead and assessing the situation. “Tch, what, couldn’t even catch it all?” he says as his eyes examine Izuku’s face, and he reaches forward to swipe up the remaining cum onto his fingers.
“S-sorry, Kacchan, I wasn’t- mmfh-!” he’s cut off by those same fingers pushing into his mouth, stroking his tongue, pushing it aside and up. “Nngh-”
The fingers finally retreat with a wet squelch, and Kacchan smirks at him, wiping the excess saliva on his cheek. “What now, huh? You’ve been pretty good, think you deserve what you want?”
Izuku flushes, looking down at the sheets. “I… I want whatever Kacchan wants…”
“That right?” Kacchan says, narrowing his eyes before moving back around to Izuku’s side, dragging his fingertips down the patches of skin exposed between the ropes on his back. Then, with a loud slap!, his palm comes down hard across Izuku’s ass, and he jumps with a gasp of surprise. “I dunno... I think I could get you to tell me.”
The sting of the slap isn’t anything compared to the kinds of pain Izuku has felt before, but the threat in Kacchan’s voice is clear: he can - and will - do worse. Izuku finds himself with a choice: beg for it now, or make Kacchan work for it.
“I-I am- I am telling you! I want… I want what Kacchan -” SLAP! “- ah!”
Izuku trembles as Kacchan’s fingers stroke stinging, hot flesh.
“Heh.” The amused exhale makes Izuku’s skin tingle. “Shoulda known.”
The blows start sharp, echoing thunderclaps punctuated by gasps and cries. They start sharp, but they don’t remain sharp, palms eventually replaced by the dull thud of a toy and a deep, slow, throbbing pain that leaves promises of purple.
He jerks, twitches, persists. “P-please, Kacchan, please, w-want what Kacchan wants, please!”
He persists until a fourth, perfectly aimed impact hits a point already throbbing from three, and pain explodes up his spine.
Izuku chokes on a scream, tears finally plummeting to stain the sheets below.
“Fuck me!” he cries. “F-fuck me, Kacchan, please!”
Feather-light fingertips trace searing skin, and Izuku waits, shaking with silent sobs.
“That’s more like it.”
Finally, finally, Kacchan’s hand finds his cock again, spreading the thread of precum over its hot length and beginning to pump, and Izuku goes limp, letting out quiet moans with every other gasp. He’s too euphoric to even notice the pop of a cap before cool liquid drips between his cheeks, a finger swiftly locating his hole and beginning to press in, and he can’t help but bend his knees, rocking his body back onto the digit to push it deeper.
One finger becomes two, and he can’t remember when he started fucking himself on the slick lengths as they stretch him open but it feels so good, his head hanging down so low he can watch his cock bobbing in Kacchan’s fist under his body, mouth hanging open in a perpetual gasp. “Hnnh- haah- hgah- Kacchan-”
There’s a snort of laughter from behind him. “Shit, if everyone knew how much you love getting fucked in the ass… hell, maybe they do. Anyone who looks at you and thinks you’re fucking anything must be a record-breaking moron, right?”
Kacchan’s fingers curl inside him, and Izuku’s head snaps back up, his back arching as they graze his prostate. “Ahh!”
The fingers curl again, beginning to rub back and forth across the sensitive spot, and Izuku spasms with every movement, heavy pulses of pleasure shooting straight to his cock. “Ah! Ah! Aahh godplease-don’tstop-don’tstoaah!”
Kacchan stops, and Izuku dangles, his chest heaving, dick throbbing and unattended between his legs. “Ngh… hah…”
When his vision finally clears, he finds Kacchan at eye level, wearing one of the most dangerous grins he’s seen in the past two years. His hand comes up to lift Izuku’s sweat-dampened jaw again. “Wanna come, Izuku?”
The smirk says it’s a trap, but Izuku has no idea what kind. His heartbeat, somehow, intensifies with dread. “Y-yes… please...”
“Yeah? Like this?” Kacchan reaches under him and begins to stroke his length, slow, agonizing. Izuku whimpers and forgets his command not to push into it, rocking back and forth on his knees in an attempt to increase the speed.
Kacchan lets him.
Izuku thrusts into his fist like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to do so, gasping, panting, whining, begging, eyes shut tight as the heat pooled in his abdomen finally begins to overflow-
“What the fuck did I tell you?” Kacchan’s voice growls deep next to his ear, and his fist tightens like a vice, fingers digging into the base of his pulsing cock, and Izuku cries out at the suppression, his stomach heaving, coming but at the same time not coming, a weak stream of sticky white dribbling down his shaft.
He sobs with frustration as Kacchan releases his still-hard length, tugging at the ropes fruitlessly. This is more along the lines of what he was expecting: to be utterly and completely humiliated, robbed of the peak of his pleasure while used as a method for Kacchan’s own.
Kacchan scoops the tiny puddle from the sheets onto two fingers, pulling Izuku’s head back by his hair and stuffing them back into his mouth. His face burns at the taste of his own cum and the satisfied smirk on his partner’s face as he watches him swallow around his fingers.
When Kacchan moves he simply hangs there, shaking, his dick aching with need. “I’m s-sorry, K-Kacchan, I’m sorry, please…”
A hand spreads his cheeks again, and he cries out when fingers push into his ass - more, this time, stretching the muscle wider, shifting inside him to push against his walls. “Hnn-”
They don’t stay for long, retreating a few times before pressing back inside, spreading, then retreating again, and Izuku finds himself incapable of doing much other than dangle, his body slack, mouth open and dripping an assortment of fluids onto the sheets.
“This what you wanted, Izuku?”
His brain doesn’t appear to be functioning, and all he manages is a breathy moan.
Kacchan’s cock slides between his cheeks and against his empty, lube-coated hole. A hand’s in his hair, the sharp sting bringing him crashing back to reality with a yelp. “Answer the fucking question.”
“Y-yes! Yes, please-”
“Please what, fuckwad?”
“Please- please fuck me, I w-want you to- aaahhgod-” His voice crumbles into fragments of whimpers and moans and half-formed words as Kacchan pushes into him, slowly filling him inch by inch. He’s broken, incapable of coherent thought, his entire existence a Mobius strip of pleasure and pain, need and denial, and he gets the impression that’s exactly what Kacchan intended.
“Fuck-” Kacchan hisses as he pulls out, then slams back in, knocking the breath from Izuku’s lungs. “Why’re you always so fucking tight-”
Izuku has no answer. He just gasps, sweat and tears dripping from his nose, as Kacchan does just as requested, reaching around to enclose the base of Izuku’s cock in another vice grip and guide his hips into the angle he knows will-
“Aahah!” Izuku jerks, arching his back as the hot length inside him rubs against the spot that sends pleasure shooting up his spine, then dissolves into whines when Kacchan begins to thrust, the pressure of his cock sliding back and forth and making Izuku shudder rhythmically. “K-Kaccha-haah-nnn-” he pleads, his need an impossibly massive body of water somehow held at bay by the unyielding dam of Kacchan’s fingers. “Please, please-”
“The- ffuck- do you want?” Kacchan’s voice growls, breathy with a particularly deep thrust. “This not- ngh- good enough for you, is that it?”
“No! No, s-so good, Kacchan, please-” he spills, almost incoherent. It feels good, it feels so good, but he needs- he needs… “P-please let me come, Kacchan, I can’t-!” he begs, desperation in every syllable.
Kacchan’s pace quickens, his breathing heavy, and Izuku whimpers at the ever-present sensation of the hand clamped around his length. “Y-you can’t- please, Kacchan!”
“Don’t tell me what I can’t fuckin’ do!” Kacchan snarls, pounding slower, then excruciatingly slow as his breath hitches and his cock twitches against Izuku’s insides, filling him with his ejaculate.
Izuku’s cock remains in Kacchan’s fist the whole time, and he lets out a cry of frustration, thrashing against his bonds with indignant outrage.
As soon as Kacchan pulls out, something else pushes in with a lewd squelch, a flared base settling against his cheeks. He recognizes the familiar sensation of one of their plugs, placed to keep Kacchan’s cum securely in his ass… he knows what this means. This usually means being left for hours with it in while life goes on as normal. He gives his partner a pleading stare as he reappears in view. “I- I’m sorry! I d-didn’t mean to tell you- I’m sorry, please, Kacchan, don’t-!”
“Oh, yeah? Sorry, huh?” Kacchan seems unable to suppress a satisfied smile at the state of his face as he replaces the blindfold around Izuku’s eyes. “Yeah, I think I’ve had enough of your shit.”
Izuku’s cry of alarm is muffled as something soft is shoved into his mouth, and his heart races. Oh, god. What is this? “Mmf…”
Hands are placed on his cock, finally, one holding the base, the other rubbing cold lube at the tip, tugging the skin at the tip to reveal the slit- oh no. Oh god. Oh, yes.
He shudders as something cold pushes into his cock, stretching his urethra as it slides inside, and he lets out a long, high-pitched whine around the gag, only stopping when the sound comes to rest deep inside him. His stomach heaves with the effort to maintain enough oxygen, the blindfold dampening with sweat and tears.
The sound starts to vibrate. Izuku whimpers, losing control of his body entirely as it twitches, curls, bucks, but nothing changes the sensation, a steady, ongoing wave of stimulation directly into his cock.
“You wanna come? Come all you want,” Kacchan says, patting his cheek. “Don’t have to go to work for nine hours, so, y’know. Enjoy.”
Izuku attempts to protest - he can’t leave him like this all night, he can’t be serious - but all that comes out is a moan around the cloth in his mouth. Then another, as his first dry orgasm makes his body quake, the sound doing a very effective job of preventing him from ejaculating. Painfully.
He sobs, feeling the weight of it with each twitch of his cock, utterly helpless as the vibrations continue, first almost unbearable with overstimulation, but soon a building pleasure in his abdomen once again.
He’s not sure where Kacchan went, but he trusts that he would never leave him unattended, and that trust is confirmed when fingers tap his own, twice: a non-verbal check-in. He taps back, more aroused than he’s ever been before in his life, happy to remain at Kacchan’s mercy, forced to dry orgasm over and over until Kacchan is satisfied.
The mattress shifts beside him, and he allows himself to drift, losing all sense of time and existence as his body twitches, shudders, sweats, then quakes with each climax, his cock throbbing with overstimulation. He’s vaguely aware that he’s sobbing, moaning, crying, but forgets each noise before it even leaves his mouth, his consciousness consumed whole by his predicament.
He loses count of how many times he comes, his body slackening with each occurrence until he’s limp, defeated, wrung of even tears.
Only then do the vibrations end. Only then does Kacchan remove the dampened fabric from his eyes and mouth, fixing him with a frown of concern until he confirms his well-being, and begin to free him, gently sliding the sound from his sore, abused cock, loosening the ropes knot by knot until Izuku collapses into his lap.
“I don’t think I can stand, Kacchan,” he says, his words slurred, as his partner examines him.
“Yeah, no shit,” Kacchan says, and despite his exhaustion, Izuku picks up on the undercurrent of guilt instantly.
“I’m okay,” he says with a tired smile. “Really. I can use my Quirk if I need it to stop, remember?”
Kacchan nods, stiff, uncomfortable. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”
“Kacchan,” Izuku says, reaching out to touch him, and Kacchan looks at him with surprise, open, vulnerable.
Kacchan collapses into him, pressing his face against Izuku’s shoulder, and Izuku folds his arms around the Number Two Hero.
He’s not sure how long they remain tangled in each other beside a sea of rope, but he’s not complaining.
“Ugh. Jeez, you need a shower,” Kacchan says, eventually, looking down at the sticky patch of lube on his stomach.
Izuku just groans, only half conscious. “N’th’morning, Kacchan…”
“Gross. No way in hell,” Kacchan responds. “Ugh, fine. I’ll suck you off if you come shower.”
Izuku’s eyes open, and he laughs, a flush tinting his cheeks. “Honestly, I don’t think I want anything touching my dick for days.”
Kacchan smirks, self-satisfied. “Yeah?”
He rolls off the bed, and Izuku tips his head to follow the familiar scrape of a dresser drawer.
“I’ll take that as a challenge.”