Chapter Text
Midoriya wasn’t quite sure why Katsuki thought it was a good idea for their one-night stand to turn into a several-night stand. Mostly, it was because after that first time, all Katsuki did was complain. He complained like sex with Midoriya was the most tiresome ordeal he ever had the displeasure of experiencing, and yet he kept coming back.
And back.
And back.
It just didn’t make sense to Midoriya, especially when all of Katsuki’s complaints were far from constructive. There wasn’t much he could do to carve out a decent understanding when all Katsuki would say in the moment were variations of “you’re doing it wrong.”
“How am I supposed to know what to do if you won’t explain it to me?” Midoriya demanded, infuriated to the point of turned off.
Katsuki rolled his eyes and said, “I don’t fucking know. Well now you aren’t doing anything—why am I even here? If you’re gonna go soft five seconds in—”
Midoriya pushed himself up with a groan of contempt and spun off of the bed. His feet hit the floor and he ducked down to fetch his underwear where it had fallen. As he shoved them back on, he said, “I don’t get why you keep coming over for sex if you hate having sex with me.”
“Who said anything about ‘hate’,” Katsuki said in a bland, teasing voice as he propped himself up on his elbows and stared dully back when Midoriya stood and stared back at him. Midoriya quirked an eyebrow. “Whatever. If you don’t wanna fuck then—”
“No—No, it’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that you don’t want to. I’m not gonna force you to have sex with me,” Midoriya said with a sharp gesture between them, but Katsuki was just rolling his eyes again, head lolling back like he was in the single most boring lecture since they graduated college.
It didn’t make a single ounce of sense to Midoriya. After every night Katsuki spent over at his place, his absence made Midoriya feel like he had done a million things wrong. How could one person fuck up so spectacularly at sex the way Midoriya evidently did? Regardless, it left a sour taste in Midoriya’s mouth every time Katsuki left and it made him wonder how he could ever possibly let Katsuki back into his apartment for the sake of his own dignity and self-worth.
But he did, and it was for one simple fact: That they excelled at foreplay. Was it possible to be friends with benefits with nothing but make out sessions and sexual teasing? If so, he almost wondered if that was where this exchange should stay.
No, he told himself the second Katsuki looked at him again with that glint in his eyes that spurred this moment on in the first place. If I can just figure out what he wants, then I can learn. Right?
They got back to business and finished said business in the most uneventful manner possible: With Katsuki playing a role better fit for a wet, limp noodle, but a noodle couldn’t yawn with such dramatics, could it? Midoriya laid there that night after Katsuki left, seeping in utter conflict and the slight dampness still left on the sheets from their sweat.
He slapped his hands over his face and groaned. “What am I doing wrong…” he moaned aloud.
The problem, he supposed, was that he couldn’t exactly remember. In the moment, since Katsuki was such a limp noodle, Midoriya tended to concentrate on everything—how was he holding Katsuki’s legs, his dick? Was he putting too much pressure here, or there? He didn’t know because Katsuki never said anything. If only he had evidence of the event so that he might be able to relive it.
Over.
And over.
And over again from a third-party perspective.
Midoriya leapt up from his bed with a start, gasping. He raced to his closet, to the lockbox he kept on the top shelf over his dress shirts. He dragged it down and, perched on the ground, dialed the passcode in. The locks popped up and, upon lifting the lid, he gazed down at the singular item on his mind at that moment.
A camera, but not just any camera—it was a GoPro, and one that was discrete enough for him to hide.
He canvassed his room for an appropriate spot. When he found the spot on his desk in the corner of the room, he partially covered it between the slots of his books and promised himself, The footage is just for me. I’ll delete it after testing my theories—he won’t even know I have this.
And then, Midoriya tried to remember the last times Katsuki seemed pleased with him. That was easier to do leading up to the bedroom, but no, he needed to get deeper than this. It wasn’t just his actions that mattered—it was everything about him. There was something about him that kept Katsuki around, wasn’t there? And he just needed to figure out what that “something” was.
I need help with this, he decided the following day. Who would he confide in about this sort of thing?
Kirishima was off limits. Him at Katsuki were close, but when it came to sex and relationships, Kirishima thought Katsuki was straight as a goddamn yardstick. He would be the last person Katsuki would talk to about Midoriya specifically. And since Kirishima was off-limits, hopelessness seeped in.
Kirishima’s his best friend, he thought, and if Katsuki wouldn't tell his best friend…
“Hey, Midoriya?”
Midoriya startled at his desk. He lifted his headphones off of his ears and felt the bizarre urge to hide his laptop screen as if he had already recorded himself having sex with Katsuki. Since there was nothing to hide, his heart ceased racing, and he confronted Uraraka with a smile.
“Hey! What’s up?” he said, and his focus tunneled the instant he saw her.
Uraraka was a mutual friend of theirs from university. In fact, Midoriya had met her through Katsuki. For a while, he felt insecure about the fact that Uraraka seemed to know more about Katsuki than he did, but somewhere along the line, he decided to ignore that nagging jealousy. Maybe it had something to do with finding out Katsuki was gay. He felt that same way about Kirishima, initially, only to find out just how painfully straight the guy was.
Uraraka was saying something, but Midoriya was already a dozen steps in the opposite direction from where this conversation was going. He stood from his chair and said, “Wait, I need to talk to you about something,” to which Uraraka rose and eyebrow and complied.
They worked in the same building, albeit, different departments. Several of their classmates wound up at this particular company, and considering how small of a class they had for their major, it felt like the largest ratio in the world and the biggest goddamn coincidence.
For example: they both worked with Katsuki.
Outside of Midoriya’s department, he tapped the elevator button with every intention of simply walking Uraraka back to her desk—the elevator trip would give him enough time to explain, and then they could get to the actual task at hand for work.
“What’s this about?” Uraraka asked. “I was just gonna check if you could—”
“Hold on,” he said, and maneuvered her into the elevator the moment it opened. When the doors shut, he turned to face her and said, “What has Bakugou said about me?”
Uraraka blinked, innocent as ever, and a bubbly laugh broke out. She smiled wide and said, “I reiterate: What’s this about? Are you asking for relationship advice with Bakugou? Come on, dude—”
“I’m serious,” Midoriya said. He put his hands together like he was praying to his one and only god, Uraraka, for her words of wisdom. “Please? Anything. Please tell me he’s said something to you.”
“I, um,” she started, her voice wavering with awkwardness. She cursed under her breath and scratched at her hair. “Fuck, he’s gonna kill me… Fine, whatever. We’ve talked about you, like, maybe twice. Ever.”
“What about?”
“Well, he was drunk the first time, and then the second time was because I wanted clarification when he was sober. That was not a good idea—”
The elevator dinged, and Midoriya didn’t even think when he pressed a random button on the elevator just to keep it going. It lurched and trudged onwards with Uraraka sighing as she realized that she was trapped until further notice.
“Yeah, but what did he say when he was drunk?”
She folded her arms and shrugged. “I don’t know. Just that you two were, like, seeing each other? Kind of? And then I was like, ‘Well, what the fuck does that mean.’ People don’t just see you, you know? You’re like, a long-term kind of guy, aren’t you?”
Well, she isn’t wrong, he realized, thinking back on his excruciatingly long timeline with Katsuki. Even if they weren’t dating, they stuck around one another like planets in orbit.
“And anyway, I asked him why you of all people and he said you’ve got killer thighs or something. He might’ve been joking but I’ve caught him staring at your legs before so—”
“My thighs?” Midoriya repeated. He looked down at his slacks. They weren’t exactly flattering. Damn office attire. “Okay, noted. Is that it?”
“I can’t just tell you,” she insisted, and Midoriya groaned dramatically in defeat. He slumped against the wall as the elevator stopped again and Uraraka reached over to tap her floor number again. The doors opened as she did, and a stranger walked in.
Midoriya and Uraraka straightened, clustered in their little corner as the gentlemen pressed the ground floor button. Midoriya looked down at Uraraka, who had her fingers over her lips. She smiled at him and he pouted. She certainly gave him answers—just not the ones he was hoping for.
And then, she lowered her hand and stuck her tongue out. She pointed to it and gave him an encouraging thumbs up.
My tongue? he screamed internally, cheeks flushing. He looked away, a hand over his mouth. How could someone just compliment another person’s tongue? He supposed he was grateful, though, considering this was definitely something he could work with.
Wait, he thought as they left the elevator. He stilled in the hallway and Uraraka paused to look back at him. “How… long have you known that?” he asked.
Uraraka let out a nervous laugh and waved a dismissive hand. “That—! That doesn’t matter! Come on, we have work to do.”
“R-Right!” he stammered, equally, if not more flustered.
The more he thought about Uraraka’s comments, the more he started to nitpick the little details of his “relationship” with Katsuki. They were gym buddies and, on the rare occasion they fucked around in the locker room, Midoriya realized that there was a common thread he never pinpointed before that had his apparel written all over it. Those rare occasions were accompanied by the days he ran out of sweatpants and was forced to wear shorts to the gym. He had a bad habit of putting off laundry, and he never thought to correlate it with their borderline public sex instances.
As he sat through work that day, rubbing an idle hand against his leg, he thought to himself, Does Katsuki really get turned on by my legs? He didn’t really have a… body part preference, so he couldn’t understand the sentiment. He just… liked how Katsuki looked—the whole damn package. The more he thought about it, though, he really did like Katsuki’s pectorals. He thought it was just his own envy, but holy shit could he appreciate them for what they were. Perfect. Shapely. Dense.
“Oi.”
For the second time that day, Midoriya almost lost his shit. He found the subject matter of his daydreaming leaning over his desk, a hand on his hip, and his pecs—which were in Midoriya’s direct line of sight—tightly wrapped by his fitted, black button-up. His red tie dangled over Midoriya’s desk like the red cape of a matador.
“Eyes up here, idiot,” Katsuki said.
“S-Sorry!” Midoriya stammered, and Katsuki scoffed, rolling his eyes. That was all he seemed to do these days. “What, uh—What’s up?”
“Just asking what you’re doing after work tonight,” he said, and across the aisle, their coworker Mina chimed, “Ooo! Spicy!”
Katsuki slammed his fist on Midoriya’s desk, quaking the monitor, and startling Midoriya. He jabbed a finger at Mina and said, “Shut it, all right? We’re going out to happy hour with dick-for-brains.”
“Oh, you mean Kirishima?” she said, leaning back on her chair. She lidded her eyes, devious. “Am I invited?”
“Do I even have to ask at this point. You show up regardless,” Katsuki said, and Mina squealed with excitement.
Midoriya’s jaw had dropped during the exchange. This was it. He had been wondering when Katsuki would initiate another hook-up, and they almost always happened after a happy hour social. This is it, he thought, heart racing, thinking about the GoPro lying in wait on his desk.
“Sounds good to me,” Midoriya said and brandished a bright, innocent smile that declared that he absolutely was not plotting anything dubious.
Katsuki squinted at him, already suspicious. “Right… whatever. Lobby at five—don’t be late.”
“Right!” Midoriya said, beaming. He smiled even as Katsuki walked off, and even as Katsuki shot a suspicious look at him from over his shoulder. Midoriya waved, and Katsuki seemed to shudder like a cold chill of dread struck his spine. He kept walking, though.
Midoriya dissolved into a mental onslaught of preparation. He needed a control for this experiment, so even if he had this newfound information from Uraraka, he couldn’t use it tonight. That would throw off the experiment and he couldn’t be sure just how impactful said information would be. And, if what Uraraka said was true, he could be sure that it would be impactful, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more to work with, and he couldn’t throw off the video footage with two details that could wind up encompassing the entire mission. If all he did was body worship the fuck out of Katsuki, he wouldn’t learn anything and body worship would get old fast anyway. He needed something that would capture Katsuki’s attention span for more than just a couple nights together. He needed something that would leave Katsuki hooked on Midoriya…
This train of thought followed him all the way through work, through happy hour, and to the front stoop of his apartment complex where the Uber driver dropped him and Katsuki off. Midoriya watched the car drive off, lingering on the curbside along with the sliver of reservations he had about screwing Katsuki again.
There it is again, he thought, rubbing at his hairline as he fetched his keys to the flat. The dread. I hate feeling like I’m nothing but a burden to him.
“Hurry up,” Katsuki prompted from the steps, gesturing to the door.
After letting themselves into the building, Katsuki took the lead up the steps to Midoriya’s flat. Midoriya coached himself all the way up, reminding himself that this was necessary if he planned on improving his performance. And besides, making out with Katsuki was always worth the discomfort of sex later on.
Right?
Well, it always seemed to be since they kept hooking up.
At Midoriya’s open door, Katsuki stretched his arms over his head and sighed, “All right, let’s just get this over with.” He nudged past Midoriya, shrugging his jacket off as he went.
Midoriya rolled his eyes and said, “Why do you make this sound like I’m the one initiating? You’re the one who keeps coming over.”
Katsuki blindly pointed a finger in Midoriya’s direction, almost stabbing him in the cheek with it. Midoriya lowered it to the side as Katsuki said, “Don’t make this something that it isn’t.”
As Katsuki walked off to Midoriya’s kitchen, Midoriya pulled his phone out from his jacket pocket and flipped over to his GoPro app. Katsuki pulled a beer from the bottom shelf of his fridge as Midoriya wandered to his room and said, “I just have to… take care of something real quick.”
“Whatever,” Katsuki said, cracking the cap against the countertop.
Midoriya groaned as he hurried over to his desk to power on the camera. “Don’t—You always do that. You’re gonna wreck my countertop one of these days and I won’t get my security deposit back.”
He chewed his lip anxiously as he waited for the connection to stabilize. The instant it did, the remote video feed popped up and he hit the “record” button. A second later, he felt a hand against his back, and the nearly silent sound of Katsuki’s bare feet approaching behind him.
Midoriya’s heart leapt to his throat as he slammed his phone down on the desk, his hand braced over it as he turned to face Katsuki’s drunken attempt at flirtation. It turned his second of panic into a puddle of gross, gooey affection.
“Hey,” Katsuki said, his voice a husky whisper. “You gonna pay attention now?”
Midoriya laughed and said, “Yes, sir, what is this, a microeconomics lecture?”
Katsuki hummed, his eyes closed and his lips grazing Midoriya’s cheek as he breathed, “Hmm… you’re so—Fuck.”
Perhaps it was the desperation in him that made him crack so early on, but Midoriya reveled in the realization that he had something to hold over Katsuki’s head—or rather, hold against Katsuki in the form of his tongue lapping messy, wet kisses against his cheek down to his mouth. This has nothing to do with sex—it’s just kissing. We’ve done this before anyway, he told himself as his lips closed over Katsuki’s before prying Katsuki’s lips open with his tongue. He tasted the carbonation from the beer on Katsuki’s teeth.
Katsuki leant back and took one last sip of his beer before setting the bottle on the desk. With his hands free, Katsuki traveled along Midoriya’s obliques with his lips crushing back against Midoriya’s. His hands set a burning fire beneath Midoriya’s skin that made his clothes feel suffocating. Katsuki’s fingers dug in this shirt, his nails scraping as he pulled Midoriya’s shirt free from the confines of his jeans. The clips on his stays snapped off the hem and he heard the metal click and heard Katsuki’s breath hitch.
Maybe he likes stays since they look good on my legs? Midoriya thought, mind wandering again as Katsuki undid the buttons on his shirt and kissed under Midoriya’s chin. If he likes stays maybe he’d like lingerie? What does men’s lingerie look like?
“Oi, stop thinking,” Katsuki said. “I can hear you muttering.”
“S-Sorry,” Midoriya said, eyes wide as he looked down at Katsuki’s hands undoing his slacks. Katsuki pulled him away from the desk, and Midoriya’s hand which had been placed protectively over his phone, left the surface to move the beer out of the way of the camera. He took a sip of it just to piss Katsuki off—he knew Katsuki hated to share drinks.
“Yours now,” Katsuki said.
“It’s no more or less disgusting than kissing,” Midoriya said, and Katsuki groaned, slumping back into the chair with his black dress shirt half-open. Midoriya took another sip of the beer and blamed the heat in his face on the carbonation burning down his throat.
Katsuki propped his elbow up on the office chair armrest and perched his fingertips against his temple. He grimaced and said, “It’s disgusting.”
Midoriya licked his saliva off of the rim of the bottle just for show, and Katsuki pretended to shudder. “Since you seem to go by the ‘licking things to claim them as your own’ card…” Midoriya teased, leaning a hand against the back of the chair. Katsuki straightened, just a little, as if arcing his head back to meet Midoriya’s lips, which hovered a few inches away. “—Then I hate to break it to you, but that means I’ve staked my claim months ago.”
“Bastard,” Katsuki sneered, “don’t make this something that it isn’t.” He reached up to clutch at Midoriya’s hair and give it a rough tug to the side. Midoriya chuckled under his breath, nose scrunching up with a smile when Katsuki’s teeth caught hold of his earlobe.
“Don’t you dare lick it—Kacchan, come on…!” Midoriya groaned when Katsuki stuck his tongue in Midoriya’s ear. When Katsuki let go of his air. Midoriya scrubbed his ear against his shoulder and groaned in mock frustration. “You always do that.”
“If you weren’t an idiot, you’d have learned by now,” Katsuki said with a dismissive shrug.
“You’re lucky I clean my ears regularly,” he said. Katsuki snickered at him, pleased.
Katsuki pushed his knee up between Midoriya’s legs. He rubbed his thigh against Midoriya’s crotch, eliciting a delicious gasp from his lips that had Katsuki grinning devilishly all over again. “Shut up and get to work,” Katsuki growled as he unzipped his slacks and pushed Midoriya down by the shoulders.
Later, hours after Katsuki left his flat, Midoriya would watch himself on the GoPro footage from his desk, and he’d intently hold his breath as he watched the reactions Katsuki never showed him, and he could never see from where his head laid between Katsuki’s legs.
Midoriya pulled his foot up on the edge of the chair that Katsuki had sat on with his boxers half-off. He hugged his leg, his chin perched on his knee as his wide eyes tracked the motion of his own hands on the computer screen reaching up to grip Katsuki’s obliques, his elbows straddling Katsuki’s thighs. He vaguely recalled putting an unnecessary amount of pressure into his fingers, but now he could watch it happen when Katsuki’s hips had twitched, as if to thrust, and Midoriya had held him down.
He took a note on a pad of paper. The shadow of his pen danced across the lined pages as he bulleted something—anything—to do with holding Katsuki down. He had suggested they try doggie style that day, but Katsuki never moved from his back on the bed.
Maybe he just… likes being held down? Midoriya wondered, brow furrowed as he paused the video to bring up a tab on his browser. His keyboard clicked beneath his fingers, marking each letter of r-e-s-t-r-a-i-n-t-s in the search bar. He delved into a spiral of sites for bondage before ever returning to the video, which he watched over again for his own guilty pleasure. He tingled with delight at the prospect of being able to make Katsuki as blissed out as he was in the foreplay, when Midoriya’s reddened lips had been wrapped around Katsuki’s cock.
Midoriya ordered several things that night. He had toys for himself, and Katsuki had never shown any interest in using any of his own with Midoriya, but he had stumbled across them before in Katsuki’s bedroom. Albeit… when Katsuki was asleep and didn’t realize just how frequently Midoriya snooped around his room—or perhaps Katsuki did know, and that was why they never had sex at Katsuki’s place.
Midoriya paused at this, several days later when the package arrived and he was busy unwrapping and sanitizing the contents. He frowned, brow furrowed. Maybe he found out that I snoop around his personal stuff? Maybe it was that time I figured out his computer password. Whatever the case, he didn’t mind Katsuki hanging out at his own place, and at least now they’d have a set of toys for Katsuki to pick from. At least one of them had to suffice, right?
Midoriya examined the island countertop, which was now covered. His shoulders slumped, disinfectant wipe in hand. “This is too much, isn’t it…” he mused allowed, scratching at his hair. “It’s not like he’s going to see all of them at once,” he rationalized, and proceeded to organize his new collection into a bin to slide under his bed.
After he had made his purchases, he spent hours after work simply reading articles and watching videos that were linked off of peoples reviews of the products. The content on the restraints he bought were abundant and nearly limitless, which dragged him down a deep, dark abyss of advice columns that he had never strayed towards before. He wasn’t exactly one for dirty talk or anything painful or borderline BDSM, but something about his comment to Katsuki—the joke about the Cards Against Humanity card about licking things to claim them as your own—felt natural and looked, according to the footage, like something that seriously intrigued Katsuki.
When it came to sex, Katsuki had a familiar habit of holding onto Midoriya’s arms and, in the few instances he remembered when Katsuki seriously enjoyed it (generally when Katsuki was severely drunk), he had a habit of yanking on Midoriya’s hair. Midoriya’s comment had prompted a similar instance, but he had played it off as joking in the moment.
But then he licked Midoriya’s ear, just shortly after that comment was made…
Midoriya spent a day indulging in advice columns specifically about dirty talk.
“What’re you doing tonight?” Katsuki asked the same day Midoriya had spent the waking hours of his morning contemplating just how much profanity Katsuki could take. Katsuki had such a fowl mouth around Kirishima, but did that mean he’d want to take it into the bedroom?
“I—Uh, I’m kinda busy,” Midoriya confessed, fingers steepled thoughtfully against his lips. He looked up, slightly delirious from the distraction of Katsuki’s pecs in his direct line of vision. “Another happy hour tonight?”
“That was the idea,” Katsuki scoffed, a hand on Midoriya’s desk. “It’s Friday. What could you possibly have going on? You don’t have a social life—outside of me.”
“Ouch,” Mina chimed from across the aisle.
“Watch it, Frenchy,” Katsuki snapped, glaring at her.
Mina blinked. “Who the hell’re you calling Frenchy? I’m from Boston.”
“Grease. Chick with the pink hair,” Midoriya translated. Mina’s mouth fell open in realization, and dissolved into a pleased grin.
“All right. I’ll take it,” she said, spinning back to her desk.
“Maybe we could hang out tomorrow night?” Midoriya suggested to Katsuki, and with the offer in the air, he was able to gauge whether or not the racing of his heart was from the nerves or the excitement.
Definitely excitement.
Katsuki’s eyes had dipped, and Midoriya caught himself biting his lip. Katsuki licked his bottom lip, his sharp canines becoming visible. “Only if I get to kick your ass at Mortal Kombat,” he said.
“As if I’d let you,” Midoriya said.
The second Midoriya returned home after work that Friday, he spent the better part of an hour weighing the pros and cons of each item in the box based off of the research he had done. A part of him loved the idea of tormenting Katsuki the way Katsuki had tormented him for all these months, and his yearning for payback was tantamount to nothing he had ever felt before. His ultimate goal, more than anything, was to make Katsuki beg like his life depended on it.
He grabbed the necessary items from the bin and stashed the rest. He stashed three items in his night stand and accessorized the spokes under his bed frame in a way that discretely hid the restraint cuffs. And then, he left the last two items in his bathroom cabinet, beneath the stacks of fresh towels in there. He gripped the edge of the shelf, his smile damn near murderous with all of the intentions on his mind. He bit his lip and left the restroom to go about his Friday evening with a glass of wine and the recording of their last sexual endeavor on the side of his screen, the other side occupied by a video on edging.
When Midoriya was tipsy enough to not really care, he shut off his laptop and stood, lingering with the last bit of wine still pooled at the bottom of his glass. He wandered up to the foot of his bed. It was a queen size, since he was a pillow fanatic and enjoyed the space to spread out. He had a tendency to fidget and kick in his sleep.
He had latched the foot restraints onto the two spokes the end of his bed stood on, but he had no real intentions of using them on Katsuki. Truthfully, he liked having Katsuki's legs wrapped around him, or his ankles in his grip. He shuddered at the thought as he finished off his glass and set it on the desk.
Midoriya lowered himself onto the end of the bed. He ducked down and picked up one strap with a sigh, stiff from a long week sitting at a desk. He was barely twenty-four and already felt like he was middle-aged. He pulled an ankle up and secured the nylon cuff around it. He tightened it and gave an experimental tug on the strap that connected it to his bed. It had a tinge of elastic give, and it felt satisfying to release it, like plucking the cord on a guitar. He tipped over, head sloshing from the wine, and flopped an arm off of the bed to grapple for the other strap. Once fastened on his other leg, he flopped back, star-fished, and lifted each leg one at a time like he was doing a workout.
He sighed. He could already hear Katsuki’s condescending voice in the back of his head, saying, “What the hell are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” he answered to no one in particular, and decided to scroll through Twitter until sleep took over.
When he woke up in the morning, he had forgotten about the ankle straps and mistook the texture of fabric for socks. When he moved to get out of bed, his right leg yanked taunt and he slipped gracelessly to the ground with a shriek.
Saturday was spent anticipating the night, when Katsuki would press the buzzer outside of his apartment building and, just to tease him, Midoriya would hold his finger to the microphone button and say, “What’s the password.”
He could see the low-res camera feed showing Katsuki squinting, his eye comically huge in the bubbled, fishbowl lens. He put his mouth up to the camera and, through gritted teeth, hissed, “Let me in, coward.”
Midoriya pressed the button that unlocked the front door, and held it until Katsuki made his way through the entry way. He unlocked the front door and pressed his hands to his legs where he had on a pair of compression shorts underneath his regular, lazy athletic shorts. He thought they looked rather flattering on his thighs, and considering they were the exact combo he had worn the last time Katsuki had sucked him off at the gym, he figured they’d do just fine—at least initially.
His mind raced over everything on his checklist. He checked his breath, his freshly clean and dried hair, whether or not he had shaved his stubble properly. He patted his cheeks and determined that they were smooth as the nylon straps he’d be tying Katsuki up with.
Katsuki didn’t even knock.
The door opened, nearly taking Midoriya out at the shoulder. He startled, only to be reeled in by the coaching he had given himself in preparation for seeing Katsuki that day. Out of all of the days, though, how dare Katsuki look so goddamn palatable.
Control yourself, Midoriya chastised when his eyes lingered on Katsuki’s mused, wind-swept hair and glasses. He had to know how much Midoriya loved Katsuki’s glasses by now, even if Katsuki himself loathed them. And because it was painfully obvious, he also knew for a fact that Katsuki didn’t need them for shit.
He’s teasing me, Midoriya’s frantic, analytical habits from that week came into focus. He knows I like them and he wore them.
All of this spiraled through Midoriya’s brain in the time it took for Katsuki to shut the door and shed his jacket and say, “Hey—” at which point Midoriya decided, Fuck control, and reached forward to capture Katsuki’s face between his hands.
Their lips crushed together, and given the pliable response from Katsuki’s open lips, he acted just as predictably as ever. Midoriya inhaled, his nose pressed to Katsuki’s cheek and the metal from the glasses bitter cold mere centimeters from his closed eyelids. He breathed in the taste of Katsuki’s minty breath against his tongue and gasped when Katsuki’s hands trailed instantaneously to his ass.
Katsuki gripped his fingers beneath the curve of his ass and trailed along it, edging dangerously close to the sensitive skin on his inner thighs. His fingers splayed lower, along the elastic hem on his compression shorts, and Midoriya broke away from Katsuki with a relieved note in his smile.
At least Uraraka was right about that, he thought.
“You want anything to drink?” he asked, all but panting when his hands lowered to graze the muscle shirt hugging Katsuki’s biceps.
Katsuki shook his head, swallowing hard. He pushed forward, backing Midoriya away from the door and towards the kitchen. Midoriya’s back touched the edge of the countertop as Katsuki said, “You been avoiding me, Deku?”
Midoriya blinked, baffled. “What? No—”
“Tuesday,” Katsuki hissed, and Midoriya tried to remember what happened on Tuesday. Tuesday… he had a backlog of videos on restraints to watch. And… Katsuki might have asked to come over that day, he wasn’t sure. Katsuki leant in, teeth sharp in front of Midoriya’s lips. “Wednesday,” he said, voice harsher. Midoriya spent Wednesday night tying and untying his ankles together, like they were Katsuki’s wrists. “Yesterday.”
Midoriya swallowed hard. Okay, it definitely looks like I’ve been avoiding him, he determined, grimacing slightly at the deadly twitch of Katsuki’s slitted eyes beyond those amazing glasses. Fuck.
“I-I’ve just been busy,” Midoriya said, only to shut his eyes and think, Fuck, this isn’t going how I planned. Granted, he never considered himself the Peak Image of Dominatrix Energy he so desperately wanted to exude that evening.
Katsuki had a way of making him melt, though.
“Then let’s cut to the chase,” Katsuki hissed, shoving Midoriya by the chest.
A part of Midoriya wanted to forgo every new thing he wanted to try that night. Katsuki wanted to get down to business, which meant the usual disinterested, condescending, humiliating way Katsuki had Midoriya fuck him.
The instant that image came to mind, Midoriya shook his head and steeled himself. No, he thought, I can do this! Bring him to his knees, you bastard! Stop being such a pushover!
He followed after Katsuki’s retreating back, his eyes trained on the toned muscles on Katsuki’s shoulder blades. He wanted to run his tongue over every goddamn inch of that man’s impeccable physique. He licked his lips, his fingers traveling along his neck and back to his hairline. Heat flushed up through him as Katsuki made a beeline for the bed and dropped onto it, and only Midoriya could see the black bands on the bed spokes and knew what they were and where they would be going.
“I just need to–do something real quick,” Midoriya said, gesturing to the bathroom.
“Fine. Whatever,” Katsuki said, and dropped back onto the comforter with his arms out.
Midoriya disappeared into the bathroom where, with the door shut, he summoned back all of the air that left his lungs in the walk to the bedroom. He laid a hand over his chest, urging himself to muster up every ounce of courage and confidence that he had, and the inklings of it he felt every now and again when he was with Katsuki.
Katsuki, who kissed him like the only air he ever wanted was breathed from Midoriya’s lungs. That alone was enough to make him yearn for that same energy they had when they kissed. He wanted to tease that level of intensity out of Katsuki while he had Katsuki bound to his bed, begging for more.
He stripped naked and equipped the shirt stays that Bakugou loved so much. He clasped them to the hem of his boxer shorts that hugged his ass like goddamn saran wrap. He stole a look at his ass in the mirror—just to make sure all his assets were in order—before grabbing the last and final item from the bathroom:
Silk rope.
He shook out his arms, took a deep breath, and braced himself. With one last mental note of encouragement, he opened the door.
Katsuki was still flopped on the bed. He was half-upside down, his eyes in the bathroom’s direction, but his phone in the way. When the door opened, he spared a disinterested glance around his phone, only to do a double-take.
Midoriya pulled the rope up and, with one end gripped in his fist, he wound his fingers around the silk until it was pulled taunt in front of him. His expression steeled with determination as he watched the tension jump to Katsuki’s shoulders, eyes wide.
He dropped his phone, and it tipped to the ground with a thud.
Katsuki twisted around, swaying from the speed of his actions. His brow furrowed, mouth ajar, only to have it snapped shut by Midoriya’s cold voice hissing, “I’m going to destroy you tonight.”
Katsuki sat there with his legs bent, his hands on either side of one knee. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, and Midoriya waited, his pulse hot against his throat. It took a second for Katsuki to speak, and it wasn’t until after he glanced twice at the door and pointed to it, saying, “Am… I in the wrong apartment?”
Midoriya would have laughed if it were any other night, but he was ready for this. He had every backup plan in order, and every plan already in motion as he stepped up to the bed. Katsuki straightened, half-pushing himself off of the mattress. His foot touched the ground just as Midoriya raised the rope up and hooked it around the back of Katsuki’s neck.
He pulled the rope tight and dragging Katsuki off of the bed and towards him. “You’re right where you belong, Kacchan,” he said, lips curling. Katsuki’s pupils were blown wide, absorbing every speck of red in his irises. “In my flat. In my room. On my bed.”
“F-Fucking Hell, Deku,” Katsuki breathed, voice shaking.
Midoriya gripped the ribbon in his wound-up hand and tugged it down, hard. Katsuki lurched fully off of the bed. “Be a good boy and get on your knees for me,” Midoriya said in a sweet yet lethal tone.
Katsuki’s response was immediate, and expected. He reeled with an incredulous, “Hah? What the fuck are you on tonight—Fuck—” Midoriya clenched his free hand over Katsuki’s crotch, tightening his grip as he tugged on the ribbon, putting Katsuki’s eyes at level with his shoulder. He hooked his thumb beneath Katsuki’s belt and freed it from the metal loop.
“Don’t make me ask twice,” Midoriya said.
Katsuki’s eyes widened, and Midoriya caught himself wavering. For a second, Katsuki looked legitimately frightened. He released the tug on the ribbon and loosened his hold on Katsuki’s hardened cock, but Katsuki hardly shifted. “Does… Does this make you uncomfortable? If you don’t want me to be demanding I don’t—”
Katsuki let out a breath of relief, his forehead dropping to Midoriya’s shoulder, and said, “Christ, okay, that sounds like you. I thought you had a secret kinky twin or some shit.”
“So this is okay? Okay, good, I was really worried for a second—”
Katsuki straightened to look him dead in the eyes and say, “Turn the switch back on, for fuck’s sake.”
Midoriya laughed, only to catch himself and clear his throat. “I’ll explain everything once you get on your knees, like you’re supposed to—or do you want to know what happens if I ask a third time?”
Katsuki grinned and said, “I kinda do.”
Midoriya’s straight-faced facade broke into a grim smirk. He reached for the nightstand as he released the end of the ribbon and snapped it off from around Katsuki’s neck. Katsuki hissed and rubbed at the back of his neck, watching as Midoriya opened the drawer and removed a—
Fuck.
“Dude, no, a cock ring? Come on,” Katsuki groaned, passing a hand over his hairline as Midoriya came back to him.
Midoriya grabbed the free end of Katsuki’s belt and yanked it hard. It slipped free and snapped out from the final loop as Katsuki staggered forward, lurching with the force. He threw the belt aside and hooked three fingers between the hem of Katsuki’s jeans and his shirt. Katsuki’s eyes and fallen to Midoriya’s hand, but they lingered on the straps around Midoriya’s upper thighs. He couldn’t miss the hungry way Katsuki licked his lips and swallowed hard.
Midoriya raised the ring up between his middle and index finger. Katsuki’s eyes followed it until Midoriya spoke. “I can’t have you cumming before me now, can I?” he said and feigned a pout.
Katsuki sneered and said, “I won’t.”
“Aw, your confidence is so cute,” Midoriya teased, and he grinned at the hesitation in Katsuki’s expression that said, Shit, the tables have turned. “It’s almost like you think you know what I’m going to do to you. Every fucking sweet thing I’m going to put you through until you’re drooling my name. If you think you’ll hold out that long, I’d be more than impressed, Kacchan.”
“What—” Katsuki lost his voice, and Midoriya gained a plethora of confidence from hearing it. Katsuki swallowed hard before rasping, “What’re you gonna do to me.”
Midoriya leant in, teeth biting close to Katsuki’s lips. “Knees,” he hissed, and Katsuki didn’t hesitate this time.
Midoriya laid the cock ring on the night stand, beside the bondage scissors that Katsuki’s eyes trained on before following the predatory way Midoriya walked past him. He turned to watch Midoriya go, the ribbon trailing idly along the comforter as Midoriya unwound it from his fingers and let it rest. Katsuki had his head redirected towards the bed, away from where Midoriya then crouched behind him.
Midoriya breathed against the nape of Katsuki’s neck, and he marveled at the shiver that trembled beneath Katsuki’s skin, just barely rising to the surface in the form of goosebumps. He had only ever seen Katsuki react like this on the footage he had, from when Midoriya sucked him off, or when Midoriya kissed him.
Katsuki had his hands clasped into fists against his knees. He flinched when Midoriya ran his hands along his sides. His fingers tugged at Katsuki’s muscle shirt, rolling it up by the hem as he bent lower and dragged his tongue up every ridge of Katsuki’s vertebrae. When it reached his shoulder blades, he realized that Katsuki had unintentionally bent forward, his arms slack and ready for the moment when Midoriya shucked the shirt over his head. Katsuki followed through the motion, plucking his sleeves from his bare arms.
“I’m going to walk you through everything I’m going to do to you,” Midoriya started, purring the words against Katsuki’s shoulder blades, the ones he marveled at when they were clothes, and worshiped when they were bare. He turned his head, his cheek pressed to the flushed heat of Katsuki’s skin. “And I want you to tell me if you aren’t okay with something, and I’ll change it. Understand?”
“Yes,” Katsuki gritted out. “Just say it already.”
“If you’re getting close now—Might I remind you that we’re only just beginning,” Midoriya breathed in the most sultry voice he could manage, all but moaning it with a grin against Katsuki’s skin. He licked wet kisses up to Katsuki’s shoulder.
“I’m fine,” Katsuki hissed, and Midoriya only smiled.
“First,” Midoriya started, grazing his fingers up Katsuki’s obliques, where a sensitive nerve traveled low towards Katsuki’s groan. He added pressure as he dragged his fingers back down. “I’m going to put the ring around your pretty little cock whether you like it or not. I’m going to bind your wrists and tie you to my bed where you belong. I’ll rough you up if you’re being naughty, and I’m going to fuck you on your back like the bitch you are, and you’re going to tell me when you’re close. If you’re good and you do as you’re told, I’ll let you cum. If you don’t, I’ll gag you. If you disobey me again, I’ll leave a vibrator in you for as long as it takes for you to beg my name. Understood?”
He could tell Katsuki lost his breath somewhere around the time Midoriya called him a ‘bitch’. Maybe that was a bit too far, Midoriya thought, but it seemed pretty tame considering the other options he weighed the day prior.
“F-Fuck,” Katsuki gasped out, turning his head to the side where Midoriya had his chin perched on Katsuki’s shoulder. “Vibrator? What the—We’ve never used—I’m not using your—”
“It’s new,” Midoriya said. “I’ve cleaned it four times and haven’t tried it on myself, but it works.”
“Gag?” Katsuki said, and Midoriya couldn’t tell if he was appalled or impressed. “Like Hell I’m letting you gag me.”
“We won’t use the gag then,” Midoriya said, though truthfully, he’d been looking forward to it. Katsuki had ridiculed him during sex before, and having the option to gag Katsuki sounded… appealing. He couldn’t lie.
“Okay,” Katsuki breathed, nodding slowly. “Okay. Let’s do it. If you’re gonna use the ring, you better do it now, shit head.”
Midoriya laughed and stood up, shoving Katsuki forward by the hair as he passed. “Call me ‘shit head’ again and see where that gets you.”
“Let me guess: On your bed,” Katsuki said. Midoriya grinned as he turned around, brandishing the ribbon again.
“We have a winner,” he said, and Katsuki rolled his eyes, smiling. Good, Midoriya thought, this is good.
He stood in front of Katsuki, holding the silk out and obscuring Katsuki’s direct line of sight to Midoriya’s crotch and his shirt stays. “Give me your hands,” Midoriya demanded. “Wrists together.”
Katsuki brought his hands up after a second of hesitation. Midoriya told himself not to analyze the hesitation—he had read it all over Katsuki’s body language the second he left the bathroom. It’s just the shock, Midoriya told himself. He said he’s okay with it—it’s probably surprising seeing me like this.
He was swift after having practiced the knot on himself that Wednesday. It was different tying wrists, though, but Katsuki’s weren’t scrawny by any means. They were nimble, sure, but corded with muscle. Midoriya had always been fascinated by guys who had visible veins—Katsuki Bakugou was one of them. In the seconds it took for him to tie Katsuki’s wrists, Midoriya got to see just how beautiful that pale skin looked with black silk braided around it.
He hoisted Katsuki’s hands up over his head. Katsuki startled, his eyes having been so entirely focused on Midoriya’s fingers that he hadn’t expected the abrupt movement. “How does this feel?” Midoriya asked.
Bakugou attempted to tug his wrists apart. They didn’t budge. But fuck, they looked good like that, tied up and caught in one of Midoriya’s hands.
“Good,” Bakugou said.
Midoriya lowered his hands and took a spare thread of the ribbon. He held it up for Bakugou to see and said, “If you need to get out, I just have to pull this and it comes undone. Pick a word.”
“A safe word?” Katsuki scoffed. “I don’t need one. Come on—”
Midoriya dropped Katsuki’s bound hands and grabbed him under the jaw, tipping his head back sharply. Katsuki hissed a curse, leaning back as Midoriya’s palm gripped his chin and tugged his mouth open. Katsuki brought his bound hands up as if to pry Midoriya’s hand off, but that wasn’t going to happen—not when his wrists were tied.
“I will spit in your mouth if you don’t give me a word. I know how much you hate saliva,” Midoriya said.
“‘ine! Fine—Lemme go,” Katsuki seethed, flexing his jaw the second Midoriya released him. “‘Zero’, or whatever.”
“Zero?”
“Like counting down. Three is great, two is fine, one is pushing it, zero is… whatever,” Katsuki said, looking down. Midoriya could see the bashfulness in the faint flush of his cheeks.
“I like that. Yeah, ‘zero’ works,” Midoriya agreed. He crouched in front of Katsuki and picked up his hands. He lifted the stray thread and pulled it loose, just to demonstrate. The ribbons released instantly, and snaked out from around Katsuki’s wrists. He tied them again.
“How long have you been looking into this shit?” Katsuki asked.
“What’s sexier—since forever, or just this week?” Midoriya said with a cheeky glint in his eyes as he glanced up at Katsuki.
Katsuki stared at him and said, “The way you’re tying says ‘forever’, but I definitely believe the ‘week’. Fuck, Deku…”
“Careful, or else I’ll think you’re starting to beg for me,” Midoriya said, and reached back to grab the ring. “Stand up for me—good boy.”
Katsuki cursed, half-tipping to the side as he scoffed, “Call me a ‘good boy’ again and I swear to God—”
“You’ll what,” Midoriya said, ripping Katuski’s jeans down from his hips, taking his underwear with them.
Katsuki never answered. Instead, his words broke into a gasp when Midoriya’s expert tongue laved a stripe down his half-hard cock. He sucked at the tip before popping off and securing the cock ring at the base of Katsuki’s dick. Katsuki muttered something along the lines of, “Tease,” just before Midoriya ordered him onto the bed.
Midoriya gestured for Katsuki to raise his arms up, at which point Midoriya climbed up to the central strap that he had secured to the top two spokes on his bed. He reached behind the nonexistent headboard and snaked it up and over the pillows. Katsuki looked up, curious, and settled in with a sigh.
A pang of hesitation numbed Midoriya to the core. Don’t let him get to you, he told himself, even as Katsuki looked off to the side as Midoriya fastened the nylon cuff over the silk restraints. The chain connected to the cuffs clinked when Midoriya tugged on it. Just as secure as before.
“Are you comfortable?” Midoriya asked as he settled on his knees between Katsuki’s loose legs.
“Sure,” Katsuki said, and his nonchalance made Midoriya want to smack him.
So he did.
He leant forward and delivered a firm yet gentle—if such a thing existed—slap across Katsuki’s right cheek.
They stared at one another for several painful seconds: Midoriya, completely stone-faced, and Katsuki, turning livid by the second. Five seconds into the silence, Katsuki shrieked, “Did you just slap me?”
Midoriya shrugged. “Sure.”
Katsuki’s jaw dropped. He tugged at the restraints. The metal clanked, but the nylon nor the silk budged. He looked down at Midoriya, yanking harder with the full force of his shoulders. “I’m gonna kill you—” Katsuki snarled as Midoriya pushed himself up and pinned Katsuki by the biceps to the comforter.
Katsuki’s voice shriveled up, that same look of wide, childlike fear catching hold again when Midoriya said, “If you want out, say the magic word.”
A part of Midoriya—a painful yet glaringly obvious part of him—expected Katsuki to say the safe word.
Katsuki’s shoulders slackened, his jaw still clenched furiously tight. His hands were bundled up into fists over his head as he spat, “I’m not going to say it. But I am going to murder you when I get—”
Midoriya settled back with a bored roll of his eyes and said, “God, I wish I could use the gag right now.”
“What did you just say—”
“Someone’s being too naughty—” He hoisted Katsuki’s legs up by the ankles, “—for my tastes.”
He rolled his hips against the underside of Katsuki’s flushed cock. The smooth fabric of his boxer shorts eliciting exquisite friction that had Katsuki’s head tipping back, his lip twisted into a disgusted grimace, as if he knew he couldn’t moan unless he wanted to cater to every damn thing Midoriya was gunning for.
Midoriya bent over him, his knees braced wide apart and his thighs rubbing against Katsuki’s. He caught Katsuki’s skin between his teeth, just above his left pectoral, and he sucked an angry red mark there, tongue swirling over his pale skin as it turned pink in the dim bedroom light. He licked his tongue over Katsuki’s nipple as both hands traveled, feather-light, beneath Katsuki’s thighs.
Midoriya felt himself drooling. Katsuki’s skin smelled amazingly edible and he couldn’t get enough of it as he bit and sucked marks all along Katsuki’s pecs. He treated each to their own catered markings, and grazed his teeth along Katsuki’s nipples until they were plump and red.
He sucked off of one and finished with a light kiss. He brought a hand down between them, releasing one of Katsuki’s legs as he cupped a hand over Katsuki’s crotch, his finger grazing along the ring, and his thumbs playing with Katsuki’s balls. All the while, he looked for Katsuki’s expression, and how his furrowed brow betrayed that this was far different from the vanilla sex they had been having the past several months.
He’s intrigued, Midoriya mused as he observed the way Katsuki’s mouth fell open under the gentle caressing of Midoriya’s fingers under his dick.
Midoriya hummed like he was observing a feast at a banquet, and Katsuki’s eyes lifted to meet his. Midoriya dragged a hungry gaze along the red marks, Katsuki’s amazing abdomen, and down to his target between Katsuki’s spread legs. “I can’t wait to take advantage of you, Kacchan.”
He hummed again, this time pressing it to Katsuki’s inner thigh as he slipped lower, breathing light kisses up to Katsuki’s hole. Katsuki was always particular about how thoroughly he cleaned, and the scentless soaps gave way to the musk from Katsuki’s regular body wash. He teased and nipped at the skin along Katsuki’s thighs, dragging his hand down along Katsuki’s calves as he stretched Katsuki’s leg out and reveled in every delicate nerve he read so much about, saw so much about, and now tasted on his tongue.
Katsuki’s breath shuddered out of him. Midoriya glanced at him, and Katsuki caught himself, stilling. The muscles in his leg tensed, like he was prey caught in Midoriya’s predatory sights.
Bingo, Midoriya thought.
“Aw, what was that? You almost sound like you liked this,” Midoriya teased, playing along that same vein beside Katsuki’s cock.
“Sh-Shut up,” Katsuki gritted out. He looked up at the ceiling and swallowed hard. “It’s disgusting.”
“Agreed. You’re filthy, Kacchan. You like this?” Midoriya prompted, mockingly, and his tongue delved deep along the crevice where Katsuki’s thigh met his hips.
“Just—Get on with it already,” Katsuki hissed, glaring down at Midoriya.
Midoriya straightened, pushing up from between Katsuki’s legs. He rolled his hips against Katsuki’s sensitive cock and whispered, “Hm… Unless you’re begging me to, I think I’ll pass.”
“Fuck off. You’re joking,” Katsuki said. Midoriya hummed, lips pursed, looking everywhere but Katsuki’s skepticism. “I’m not begging, you idiot.”
Midoriya’s hands found their place at Katsuki’s abdomen. With his thumb, he pressed down on the trail of tender nerves that bracketed Katsuki’s dense abdominal muscles. His nails dug in against the soft skin of Katsuki’s pelvis as he ground his own hips between Katsuki’s legs.
Katsuki sneered a little, and if it weren’t for the fact that his legs had consciously wrapped themselves around Midoriya’s waist, he would have assumed Katsuki hated every second of it.
His fingers traveled back up along with his mouth, which latched onto Katsuki’s arced neck as his thumbs played a tender rhythm beneath Katsuki’s pecs. He kissed his way along Katsuki’s shoulder and up to his taunt bicep where the pale, soft, thin skin beneath it yearned for Midoriya to ravish it. His initial touch was faint, his own lips tingling at the stimulation of Katsuki’s pebbled goosebumps against his skin. And then, his tongue licked a short stripe and continued in circles, laving in spirals against a patch of skin that he later sucked between his teeth and nibbled raw and red.
“T-Take your damn boxers off,” Katsuki rasped, gritting his teeth as Midoriya’s lips left his bicep. His saliva turned cold, a trail of it on Katsuki’s arm. He licked it up before Katsuki could have the chance to tense in disgust.
Midoriya hummed, his breath hot and getting heavy against Katsuki’s ear. His dry thrusts petered out as he braced a hand beside Katsuki’s arm and said, “What for? Unless… you want to take my cock in that cute, pert ass of yours. Say the word. I can wait.”
Katsuki pushed his head back and groaned, and it almost sounded like a moan rather than the aggravation Midoriya knew it was.
Midoriya grinned, pleased, and reached for the bedside table. The motion had Katsuki's eyes back on him, and Midoriya thought to himself, Finally! For once he pays attention. He could feel the thick, heady tension in the air had something to do with Katsuki’s consistent attentiveness that night. Even if he turned away out of feigned boredom, his eyes always came back to see what Midoriya had in store.
It was exhilarating to see.
Midoriya fetched the lube and the prostate massager he had teased earlier in his explanation for that night. He held up the silicone toy for Katsuki to see, and Katsuki tensed, his heels digging into Midoriya’s lower back.
“Fuck no—You aren't sticking that in me,” Katsuki snarled, tightening his grip as if Midoriya couldn’t unlatch his legs to take care of Katsuki’s tight little hole the way he wanted to.
“Unless you tell me what you really want,” Midoriya growled, hitching his hips hard against Katsuki’s cock. Katsuki grunted, lips curled. “Or you count down from three, this is going inside you.”
“Great—So I have no say in the matter,” Katsuki huffed, dropping his head back, and Midoriya wanted to laugh. Like hell! he thought. Katsuki’s difficult behavior was more of a turn on than it had been their entire “relationship”, and Midoriya wasn’t sure if he could get any harder than he already was, his cock restrained by the soft cotton of his boxer shorts.
He uncapped the lube and the moment he did, Katsuki’s legs loosened on his hips. He slicked up his fingers until they were glistening and dripping with lube. It was cool against Katsuki’s warm thighs, and he felt Katsuki shiver as Midoriya slid his fingers beneath Katsuki’s balls and towards the dip of his hole.
He pushed in, watching Katsuki’s expression the way he always did. The initial stimulation always pulled something out of Katsuki, and from it, Midoriya gathered the tension in Katsuki’s brow and Katsuki’s red, glistening lip catching between his teeth. With Katsuki’s hips now wholly relaxed, Midoriya hooked an arm beneath one of Katsuki’s legs while the other tended to the task of finding Katsuki’s prostate.
He hooked his two fingers and rolled them against the faint nub he felt there. Katsuki’s hips twitched, but other than that, no reaction.
Fuck, he’s good, Midoriya thought, worrying internally. That just means I need to be better than good.
He massaged Katsuki’s prostate with his fingers, absorbing the sensation of Katsuki’s pulse against his fingers. When he extracted his fingers and reached for the vibrator, Katsuki’s eyes were on his hands again, watching as Midoriya laid a thick layer of lube on the silicone. He capped the bottle and tossed it aside as he rolled the vibrator over his two, slicked fingers and brought the silicone to his lips.
He rolled his tongue over the tip of it and hummed. Sweet—like candy, he thought as he reached it out to Katsuki’s mouth to taste.
“I’m not—” Katsuki started, but Midoriya gripped him by the hair and tugged his head forward.
“Lick it,” Midoriya commanded.
Katsuki stared at him, and Midoriya knew that Katsuki’s head was stuck where Midoriya had just put his lubed-up fingers in Katsuki’s hair. Midoriya grinned, thinking, Be mad about it, because he didn’t give a fuck anymore.
Katsuki hesitantly opened his mouth. Seeing Katsuki’s tongue fall flat against his bottom lip nearly pushed Midoriya into fucking Katsuki’s mouth with the goddamn vibrator. Fuck, Midoriya thought, legs quivering at the image of it in his head.
As Katsuki took a tentative taste of the lube, Midoriya breathed, “Fuck, you make me want to fuck your mouth instead. How does it taste?”
He could see the way Katsuki’s brain stuttered at the first comment. It took him a second to respond, and when he did, his voice was oh-so deliciously raw. “I—Um, what is that?”
“Cherry,” Midoriya said, leaning back. He reached down, tingling with untapped energy and his excitement for what was to come.
He pushed the vibrator in. It was just long enough to reach Katsuki’s prostate and, when the faint twitch of Katsuki’s hips alerted him to it, Midoriya’s hands left the vibrator. One very important aspect to this had everything to do with the remote he hid from Katsuki in the nightstand.
Before he could get to it, he reconsidered the cuffs at the end of the bed, the ones he had told himself he wouldn’t use. He pushed off of the end of the bed as Katsuki’s eyes tracked him, his knees pulled up and the handle of the vibrator pressing to his thighs. Midoriya ducked down as Katsuki said, “What’re you doing.”
“Assurance,” Midoriya said, tugging Katsuki’s leg down by the ankle. Katsuki shifted, grunting, and half-pulled away when Midoriya latched the cuff onto his ankle and pulled it tight—just enough to keep a firm hold, but not enough to agitate Katsuki’s skin. He kissed the nylon and said, “So that you won’t try to stop this before I’m done with you.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Katsuki said, a hint of that primal fear kicking in again when Midoriya reached for the second cuff. Midoriya paused to look at Katsuki, all laid out for him with his beautiful, taunt muscles and pale skin. Katsuki had his free ankle pulled up close to his person, away from the cuff in Midoriya’s hand. “Just—Don’t do both.”
“Fine,” he said, tossing the cuff aside.
He went to the nightstand, and Katsuki’s question followed him, saying, “Where are you going.” He couldn’t remember the last time Katsuki asked this many questions during sex.
Midoriya rubbed at his own cock through the fabric of his underwear, cursing. He was flushed with arousal and it tingled through every ounce of his self-control. He looked at Katsuki as he extracted the remote from the drawer. Katsuki’s eyes lingered on it as Midoriya’s thumb found the familiar button that would start this beautiful night on fire.
He pressed the button.
Katsuki visibly shuddered, a gasp breaking through his lips. It was the first time Katsuki tugged at the restraints, his knees pulling together, is elbows bending and his biceps straining, just for a moment. Just enough to satisfy Midoriya as he mused, It’s working. The prostate massager’s initial setting was calm and tolerable, but it would go up from here.
“Tell me how it feels,” Midoriya said.
“Like hell I will—Christ, I can’t believe you stuck me with a vibrator,” Katsuki gritted out with a sneer.
Katsuki’s eyes had diverted, but when they returned, his eyes caught on Midoriya’s hand, which had delved lower, trailing down his abdomen. Midoriya’s fingers slipped beneath the elastic band of his boxers, grasping over his hard length. Katsuki’s clenched fists tightened, the chain clinking.
Midoriya pressed the hand that held the remote to the comforter, leaning against the bed. He pulled a knee up, his lips hovering over Katsuki’s. He wanted to feel Katsuki’s gasp when he turned the vibrator up a notch.
He hovered, only to duck back when Katsuki leant towards him, expectant and searching for Midoriya’s lips. “Ah-ah,” he chastised, sucking in a sharp breath as he dragged his thumb over the precum at the tip of his cock.
He reached the tip of his tongue out, tracing the line along the bottom edge of Katsuki’s lip the way he had read about. He had thought using his tongue when kissing was for frenching, for playing with Katsuki’s tongue and exploring his mouth. He had never considered before this week that there was anything quite so tantalizing as teasing the nerve endings that trembled and tickled along the bottom of Katsuki’s lips with yet another feather-light touch.
He licked tongue up, closing his lips over Katsuki’s and urging him forward, silently begging for more with the obvious way Katsuki leant into him, his lips gasping and trembling for more. Midoriya cursed, working his hand fast in the confines of his boxers as he kissed Katsuki and dialed the vibrator up to the second degree.
Katsuki growled out a curse, legs twisting. He grunted, panting despite himself, and snarled, “Take it out. Take it out.”
“Make me,” Midoriya said, teasingly, and Katsuki stared at him, eyes alight with fury. “You know what you have to do to get me to do that.”
He knew what Katsuki wanted to say. He wanted to say that he wouldn’t beg, and Midoriya thought, You will. You will break.
When Katsuki said nothing, Midoriya sighed and pushed off of the bed. He took the remote with him as he left on his way to the restroom. Turning his back on Katsuki had taken a severe amount of self-control that he didn’t know he had. If he turned his back, he wouldn’t be able to see if something was terribly wrong with what he was doing to Katsuki. What if Katsuki cracked in the ways he didn’t want?
He’d use the safe word, Midoriya reassured himself, pressing his hand to the doorframe as he passed it.
“Where the hell are you going?” Katsuki said, a hitch of panic in his voice. “Get back here, asshole!”
Midoriya feigned a yawn, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. He put his other hand on his hip and turned, putting the vibrator to the third and second-highest degree. Katsuki thrashed unintentionally, shaking. Midoriya could see the shine of sweat on Katsuki’s skin, on the paths Midoriya had left wet with his saliva and slick with the lube.
As beautiful of a sight as it was, Midoriya cast a disinterested glance at the bedroom door, sighing, as if he had seen far better than the snack that was now writhing on his bed. He resisted the urge to grin, his lips twitching, when he heard Katsuki’s labored breathing on the bed.
“F-Fuck,” Katsuki let out a broken curse, torso arching off of the bed as he pulled at the restraints over his head. “Get it—Get it out of me—Deku—”
That had his attention. Midoriya snapped his eyes back over and purred, half-swooning against the doorframe, “Say my name again like that and I might actually care.”
Katsuki surged towards him, his cheek pressing to the sheets. “Fuck you,” he snarled. “And no, th-that wasn’t me begging. I’m gonna kill y-you—ah—!” He broke off when Midoriya pressed the fourth setting on.
He had tested all of the settings in his own hand the day he received the package in the mail. The third setting was at the very end of the spectrum of what Midoriya figured he, himself, could handle. The fourth?
Well.
The fourth was downright torture.
Katsuki cried out in a way Midoriya hadn’t heard before. The shock splintered into a wet pant, saliva gathering on his shining lips, and heat flushing his neck red. The bruises on his pecs were an angry red as his knee jerked, his free leg scraping against his inner thigh, his heel trying to find purchase on the damn handle of the vibrator. His toes curled underneath his knee, desperation swelling up.
Midoriya’s fist clenched around the remote. Don’t turn it off. Don’t you dare turn it off before you’re supposed to, he told himself as he rolled down the waistband on his boxers. Katsuki was facing him now, having thrash onto his side, his hips humping against the sheets as he held back every moan Midoriya so desperately wanted to hear.
Midoriya’s underwear and stays dropped to the floor. Katsuki opened his eyes, and Midoriya paused at the red tinge to Katsuki’s skin and the shine of moisture pooling on his lashes. Katsuki groaned, swore, and bucked his hips. The restraints were taunt.
Midoriya wrapped his hand around his flushed and angry cock. He stroked it fast, shivering at the sight of the tears streaking Katsuki’s face, wondering if or when Katsuki would break enough to tap out. If Katsuki would give up then and there. If Midoriya had crossed a line somewhere around, oh, he didn’t know—maybe slapping Katsuki?
Midoriya shut his eyes, leaning back with his hand still gripping the doorframe, the remote caught between his fingers. He swore under his breath as Katsuki sniffed, gasping out in a mock attempt to be downright furious with him. “Don’t you dare cum, you bitch,” Katsuki snarled.
Midoriya couldn’t help but laugh. “Making threats? You’re tied up with a ring on and a vibrator in your ass,” he said, smiling up at Katsuki.
Katsuki sobbed out a moan, rubbing his eye against his bicep and streaking it with tears. “D-Deku—Shit—”
Midoriya pressed his forehead to his arm, leaning against the doorframe as he groaned, his voice rough through his teeth, “Tell me what you want. Fucking tell me for once, Kacchan.”
“I—I can’t—” Katsuki sobbed, curling up as much as the restraints let him.
“Don’t be so difficult,” Midoriya snapped, watching as Katsuki’s mouth fell open with a cry, shoulders shaking. He yanked uselessly at his arms with far less intention than he had before. An incoherent word left his mouth, and it took several tries for him to make it english.
“Fuck—Fuck me,” Katsuki rasped, his tearful eyes looking up at Midoriya. He kicked his leg and said, “Fuck me—Fuck me already, fuck—”
Midoriya was almost too startled to register what he was supposed to do. He scrambled with the remote, his hand messy with precum, and immediate shut the vibrator off. Katsuki wouldn’t stop crying, though, and perhaps it was out of relief now as Midoriya left the doorway to tend to him.
He tossed the remote into the nightstand and grabbed a condom. He slid it on as Katsuki all but wheezed against the sheets, his hair damp with sweat. Katsuki’s eyes opened when he heard the lube cap pop off, and he watched, bleary-eyed, as Midoriya stroked the lube over his dick. Midoriya’s hands were shaking.
He climbed onto the bed, lube still wet on his hands. Katsuki’s legs were all but useless, so he nudged them apart, unstrapping the cuff from his ankle. With his dry, clean hand, Midoriya pulled the vibrator out with the wet, sopping sound of lube still on it, warmed from Katsuki’s ass. He tossed the vibrator aside, ignoring how it thudded to the ground.
He settled on his knees, a hand hooked under Katsuki’s knee. Katsuki looked at him, hands limp in the silk.
“Ready?” Midoriya whispered, and Katsuki nodded. “I’m gonna need you to say it.”
Katsuki closed his eyes, swallowing hard. He nodded again, saying, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready. Fuck me already.”
Midoriya let out a breathy laugh, angling himself close as he said, “Good boy,” and pushed in.
He seated himself to the hilt, his grip strangling on Katsuki’s legs. He was already so close, and Katsuki was likely no different if it weren’t for the ring. Katsuki trembled, quaking with a low moan. As Midoriya folded over him, Katsuki’s fingers clenched into fists over his head. Leftover tears dripped from the corners of his eyes as Midoriya kissed the salt off of his lips and rocked forward with his hips.
He pulled out halfway and thrust back in, grinding his hips down as he set a rhythmic pace against Katsuki’s tender, abused prostate. Katsuki cried out, grunting with the sheer effort to keep quiet, but they were beyond restraint now. Midoriya pounded into him, leant back on his heels with Katsuki’s hips in full control of Midoriya’s grip on his legs.
When he was close, all he needed was to hear Katsuki beg again, but that required prompting, which required a voice. His vocabulary was out the window, but somehow, he caught enough of it in the wind to say, “If—you want to cum, you’ll have to ask nicely.”
Katsuki cursed, head tipping back with frustration. Midoriya rocked fast, shallow thrusts deep inside of him, and he felt Katsuki’s furious cock bob against him. “P-Please,” Katsuki whispered, barely audible. He licked his plush, swollen lips and said, “P-Please let me—Fuck, Deku… I can’t—”
Close enough, Midoriya thought, and released Katsuki’s leg to undo the cock ring.
He closed his hand around Katsuki’s freed cock, and the sensitivity had Katsuki swearing nonsense, quaking underneath him. His legs tightened around Midoriya’s waist as Midoriya stroked him through his orgasm as it ripped through Katsuki, seizing every muscle in his body. Midoriya closed his mouth around Katsuki’s open lips, sucking on his bottom lip as he ate up Katsuki’s soul-wrenching moan and used it as encouragement to finish a second later.
Midoriya dropped to his elbows, his forehead pressed to Katsuki’s chest as he came, shaking on his knees. He panted, an ear pressed to Katsuki’s chest where he could feel Katsuki’s heart still beating rapidly in his ribcage. Midoriya brought his arms close, half-hugging Katsuki’s sides as they both relaxed in the aftermath of the single most aggressive sex they had ever experienced in their lives.
Aftermath, Midoriya thought, eyes closing tiredly. Aftercare! Right! He bolted upright, startling Katsuki, who looked like he was two blinks away from sleep.
They stared at one another as Midoriya grasped the fact that Katsuki was still tied up. He scrambled forward, squeaking, “Sorry! Sorry, forgot to untie you.”
He yanked the nylon free and tugged on the ribbon. It tumbled in glossy strips to the pillows and slid behind the bed with the cuff. Katsuki’s limbs were slow to react, even as Midoriya laid his hands over Katsuki’s wrists to assess the state of them. He helped lower them down, slowly, as he explained that he had done plenty of research on the silk and was certain that ribbon wouldn’t mark unlike some bondage ropes but—
Katsuki stared at him, eyes wide. Midoriya could see that his irises were back in the light of the open bathroom door. He paused, unsure what that look was. Definitely bad, Midoriya thought, grimacing.
“I, um—I’ll let you clean up,” Midoriya said, and leapt back like he was burned. He tipped off the back of the bed, yelping, and caught his balance with a stagger. He went to the bedroom door and escaped to discard of the used condom still on his dick.
The second he was in the safe privacy of the kitchen, he let out the breath he was holding. His hands were still glossy with lube, and he grabbed a paper towel to wipe it off before washing his hands. He tossed it, along with the condom, into the trash and scrubbed his hands and arms clean.
When he turned around, Katsuki was standing in the doorway of his bedroom like a goddamn ghost in a horror movie. He was pale enough to be one.
“Fuck, you scared me,” Midoriya gasped, a hand over his chest. “Do you, um—Do you need something?”
Katsuki didn’t move, and Midoriya realized from the half-step he had taken that walking hurt. Midoriya was mortified—it wasn’t his intention to fuck Katsuki to the point of pain, but he supposed… he had been a bit too liberal with stretching Katsuki’s legs…
When Katsuki opened his mouth, Midoriya expected him to ask for painkillers. Instead, he said, “Is it… okay if I crashed here tonight?”
Katsuki never asked to stay the night.
“Y-Yeah, of course,” Midoriya said.
Katsuki nodded slowly, rubbing at the likely sore muscles on his arms. He gestured back towards the bedroom, to the bathroom, and said, “I was just about to take a shower. And since you’re gross and disgusting and whatever right now we could probably just get it over with together.”
Midoriya blinked, his brain slowly translating what, exactly, it was Katsuki was asking for. “You want to shower together?” he said, voice cracking.
Katsuki frowned at him. “Don’t make this something that it isn’t,” he said. “If you don’t want to shower, you’re sleeping on the couch. I don’t give a fuck.”
Midoriya startled and hurried back to him, saying, “Of course I’m going to shower! I’m not an animal. Let’s go.”
Katsuki scoffed and led the way to the bathroom. Midoriya beamed despite himself as he trailed after Katsuki. Before shutting themselves up in the bathroom, Midoriya hurried to his phone on the bedside table. He turned it over, out of view from Katsuki, and ended the footage. "Hurry up," Katsuki said.
"Coming," Midoriya said, and smiled to himself as he set the phone aside. He bit his lip and thought for research. Recording their session was crucial to making their next round even better.
At least, that was what he told himself.