Chapter Text
Kacchan moves his hand a bit. Settles it.
"Gonna fight back?"
Izuku stares up and up and up, tries to answer. He swallows instead, rough and hard and aching. His hips jerk. His hands squeeze into fists so tight the knuckles pop.
He can't answer. His mouth is full.
He tries again, but his lips can only stretch so wide and he can't focus enough to hum the correct intonation.
He wants it, wants to so bad. Kacchan asked him so he wants to, needs to. He twitches, like he's going to get closer, could, even, when his nose is already kissing Kacchan's belly.
Kacchan's hand flexes. Still doesn't grab. Not yet. Its weight is deliberate but the hand is cupping the back of Izuku's head in an easy, gentle spread, fingers burrowing into his hair and just resting.
His eyes roll back again, just a little. He gags. A shudder wracks his body when Kacchan's hand tightens for a brief, minute moment and holds him still on reflex.
Izuku blinks sticky eyes open, looks up and up and up. It's one of his favorite views in the world.
Kacchan's head is directly in front of the lamp. There's a halo there, blurring the edges of his hair and washing him in gold like the paintings of gods of old. He shivers.
Izuku understands it, the obsession to capture divine beauty, to kneel at its feet and worship, to marvel and awe and want. To desire so deeply it's an act of heresy, to need so profoundly that not even divine retribution could dry the well.
The black purples and mottled greens of Izuku's knees betray how often he practices this worship.
He looks up, jaw aching, heart pounding, and melts into the hand keeping his head steady. He manages a nod finally, thighs flexing against the rope tied around them when Kacchan allows the shift, the small back and forth against his wet lips a friction he's ached for all day.
Kacchan looks down at him, face cast in shadow.
His teeth glint. A slow grin, eyes crinkling a little in the corners. Izuku makes another sound, a cry of want muffled. Oh, he has it coming today.
Air bubbles wet and messy at the corner of his lips and he's starting to gag a little more, chest convulsing every few seconds. More, he wants more. And-
Another gag. Harder. Kacchan groans.
Yes, is what he wants to answer, desperate for a fight, to force Kacchan's hand, to have all that precision and power and control devoted to Izuku and Izuku alone.
Yes, he's going to fight it, because when Kacchan uses both hands and tilts his head back and his lips curl in a snarl and that halo brightens from the tears beading in Izuku's eyes-
Kacchan hums, his hand relaxing, stroking down to the back of his neck and petting him.
He tuts his tongue, and Izuku feels like his skin is going to burn off if he doesn't get to suck on it, vision swaying despite him not standing.
He feels so greedy. He wants it all. Everything. Anything. He wants Kacchan so much that even a full cock carving space in a throat trained to take it can't satisfy the burning ball of desire that's made a temple out of him.
"Gonna fight me, huh," Kacchan muses, like it's funny, like it's laughable, and his hand is like a steel band now.
Izuku hopes it scars. He hopes Kacchan loses control one day. He hopes that his skin will burn and blacken and bleed and that the nerves will give off an agonizing, wailing scream as they die and that when he peels off the deadened skin all that's left will be a perfect replica of Kacchan's hand holding his neck tight while he was getting his jaw broken into shape.
The other comes up, cups under Izuku's chin, fingertips curling over the edges of his jaw. Just- holds him for a moment. Presses into the soft, vulnerable skin and muscle, breathes out a sigh when he can feel the muscles of Izuku's tongue twitching and flexing.
He's got Izuku perfectly contained. Broad hands suffocating the soft, weak spots Izuku's never let anyone close enough to touch.
"You'll lose," Kacchan says, matter of fact.
Izuku's moan cuts off into another gag. His knuckles hurt. He keeps trying to blink his eyes open but can't see past the film of tears. Spit is running down his chin, waterfalling off Kacchan's hand and dripping down into his lap and already wet cock.
"You know you'll lose. Brat."
Kacchan's hands tighten suddenly, pulls Izuku away then fucks his cock back in too fast for Izuku to take a breath.
Izuku gags, cheeks hollowing, chest heaving and there's a mortal man with a halo standing above him, telling him of his inevitable demise at his hands and Izuku wants to break.
He wants to be broken so thoroughly that only on Kacchan's say will he be able to think anything beyond please.
Black spots creep into his vision, and Izuku's cock is a wet mess in his lap, dribbling useless precum against his concaving, tense stomach and the junction of his thighs.
He needs to breathe. He needs to throw up. He needs to cough. He needs none of that because Kacchan's thumb just stroked down the side of his neck as he breathed out a reverent, "Izuku."
His hands shoot up to tap frantically on Kacchan's thigh.
He's panicking suddenly as heat washes over him and his cock twitches violently, anxious and sweating, and he can't, he can't, he can't yet, Kacchan didn't say-
Kacchan laughs, breathless and giddy and shoves Izuku back all the way down until the head of his cock breaches Izuku's throat and traps the wail building up inside of him.
"Go ahead, baby," is all he says, and Izuku draws blood when he comes, nails digging into powerful thighs, whining and crying when Kacchan lets go of his chin to shove his thumb past his stretched, cracking lips into his too tight mouth and hook around his teeth to hold his jaw down when he twitches and spasms against the rope wrapping his thighs.
Izuku gurgles, his cum ruining the floor in front of him and soaking into's Kacchan's legs. It's-
His chest bursts, a rocket firing off from every nerve, and his eyes close, unable to handle to weight of this pleasure.
Kacchan takes his hand away from the back of his neck, sacrificing space inside Izuku's mouth to hold his face. Izuku's head lolls back without the support, but Kacchan just hooks his thumb tighter around Izuku's teeth, tugs him forward and back into place. Kacchan's hand twitches as it settles against his skin, trembling faintly like he can't decide how exactly he wants to hold Izuku. His palm burns.
Kacchan laughs again, and Izuku can't fight the molten wave down his spine or how his cock spills more cum.
His thumb brushes against the tears collecting right under Izuku's eyes, smearing them and pushing into his cheekbone in a demand. Izuku fights, does his best, can barely see through his tears but he opens his eyes to see Kacchan staring down at Izuku with a level of awe he doesn't understand. Shadows creep in the corner of his vision but Kacchan's expression trumps everything.
"Fucking- Izuku, you're-"
He gasps, low and short, bending over a bit.
His eyes haven't strayed from Izuku's face at all. He looks at Izuku like he's the one with a halo around his head, like his ruddy cheeks and dazed eyes and spit covered skin deserves to hang on the Louvre's walls instead.
The hand cupping his chin and with a thumb stuffed between the stretched skin of Izuku's lips and Kacchan's fat cock remains firm, unwavering, heavy and just shy of painful.
The hand against Izuku's cheek is gentle, easy, careful, and offers no less comfort than the other.
Kacchan's cock twitches in Izuku's mouth.
Kacchan looks at him like Izuku is the sun.
Kacchan breathes out, groaning, body tensing, shoulders heaving, cheeks flushing, and looks Izuku directly in the eye.
"Incredible."
Izuku passes out.