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reset, reset, reset, reset (my head is empty and so is your heart)

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The air is quiet with no sounds but Katsuki’s own unstable breath. He squints, trying to disconcert his features in the mirror, but the bathroom is too dark for that. He didn't turn the lights on purpose. It's not like the view of his own face would make him feel better.

He can easily imagine what he'd see anyway. Worn out skin stretched over sharp bone structure; pale lips; tired, baggy eyes; bed hair… Bakugou looks in the mirror so often that the image is basically burnt into his mind. Staring into his reflection is nothing more than a compulsion nowadays. It helps him remember that he's real, he presumes. Yes, he's real and breathing and alive, even if he does look and feel like a walking dead.

The water’s cold against his fingers when he turns the faucet on. It runs down in a steady yet weak stream, glistening with the few rays of light that must've found their way inside the bathroom. Bakugou's eyes focus on the way it shines and sparkles for a moment before he gathers some and leans down to splash his face. It's refreshing and so he does it again, cherishing this brief moment of actual peace. Wet droplets slide down his cheeks and nose, clinging to his long eyelashes before they drip down.

But then suddenly the lights turn on and the blond almost jumps, startled. His fingers grip the edge of the sink tightly, helping him steady himself. He hates his body for quivering as it does.


He doesn't dare to turn around - not before his heartbeat calms down from echoing in his ears. The owner of the gentle yet concerned and tired voice doesn't seem to mind. It's not long before Bakugou is pulled away from the sink and tugged against the other's strong chest. The water’s still running and he tries to focus on watching it instead of the hands that are now rubbing slow circles around his belly, attempting to ease some of the tension bubbling underneath his skin.

Kacchan ,” the person behind him repeats more sternly. They know Katsuki’s not listening, so they flick his stomach lightly until he does. He groans and tears his eyes away from the tap. The flicking stops. “I told you to wake me up if you need to go to the bathroom. You can't just walk around like that. What if you hurt yourself and I'm not there to help?”

‘You'd help more if you fucked off,’ he barely bites back the retort, just because he doesn't want to go the path these words would inevitably take him. Never again. Instead, he counts from 1 to 10 in his mind, trying to calm down his raging nerves. It doesn't help much.

“Sorry, Deku. Didn't want to bother you.” He says it through clenched teeth and they both know it's a lie. The hold around the blond tightens, making his lungs hurt from how panickly fast he starts breathing. His eyes are shut tightly by now, as he readies himself for the spiking pain.

It never comes. When he opens his eyes back again, the water is still dripping down, and the green-haired man is still keeping him pressed against his body with ease. Bakugou hasn't even tried to struggle. He just stares at the reflection of other's empty eyes in the mirror.

“It's alright. I forgive you.”

Bakugou keeps glancing out the open window. Well, the best he can with the metal bars installed over the wooden frame. It bothers him that Deku must've had a thought at some point that the blond might try to escape this way. What would jumping out the window could even accomplish? It's too high and Katsuki is too frail to survive that kind of fall without any serious injuries. And even if he'd break only his arm, or catch a few bruises, he couldn't escape. With no civilization in sight, no path, and no knowledge where he is, he'd only get lost in the dense looking forest. So no, he's not mad at Deku for stealing this escape route from him. He didn't want it anyway, he almost convinces himself.

Still, he spends most of his time by the window. His chin propped on the sill, Katsuki keeps looking and scanning the view. Because maybe, by any chance, someone will be passing by and then he can catch their attention and ask for help. Maybe. Not likely, but maybe. Plus, there's not much else he can do. He's already finished all the books, even reread some of them. He tried to exercise, but his weak body refused to cooperate. The only thing else he can possibly do is take a shower, but Deku would probably be mad at him if he learned he was trying to do it by himself. So he keeps staring, enjoying the light, chill breeze of the late afternoon, even if its presence means that the freak will probably be back soon.

As predicted, it's not long after he has the thought that Midoriya shows up. Of course, it's not like he knows how much time has actually has passed. Not when there's no clock in the room. No clock, no calendar, no way to tell time besides the shaky lines Katsuki scratches at the side of the bed frame. There's 58 of them by now, but he had to improvise at some points, so he's not really sure how accurate his makeshift calendar actually is. It might be not at all. Doesn't mean it doesn't help him stay grounded.

There're a few knocks on the door before Deku actually enters the room. It's annoying that he always insists on knocking while obviously not caring for Bakugou’s privacy. The blond wonders whether he realizes that and does it just to screw with his head, or if it's just a simple habit for him. It's honestly hard to tell at times.

“Good afternoon, Kacchan.” The cheerful voice greets him. “How was your day?”

Bakugou decides not to grace the newly arrived with even one glance, as he simply keeps looking out the window. He's not in a mood for a panic attack.

“Fine,” he mutters numbly. By now he's already learned that answering truthfully never ends well. No, saying ‘boring’ or ‘shitty’ is definitely out of the question. “Yours?”

There's no answer. Actually, there are no sounds besides the ones coming from the window and Bakugou. It's eerie and makes his so anxious, that despite knowing that this is exactly what Deku wants, he turns his head to glance back at him after a long moment of hesitation.

The big, empty eyes always jump out at him. In a way, they almost look fake - more like a painting than a real deal. Katsuki’s heart rate speeds up at their sight, so he quickly turns his own down. Midoriya is wearing too big, green slippers and that's what the blond tries to focus on. They don't bring any bad memories… yet.

“Could be worse, I guess,” Deku finally answers, exhaling tiredly. His feet move closer, before they disappear from Katsuki's view, obscured by the edge of the bed. Having nothing in sight to focus on that could ground and calm him down, he closes his eyes and desperately tries not to flinch away when the mattress dips down way too close to him. “My boss has been very demanding of me, though. It was stressful…”

The blond can tell Midoriya is staring at him expectantly even without opening his eyes. It's clear in his whining voice, emphasized by the way he trails off the last word. Still, he only grits his teeth, gripping the sheets tighter. He’s aware what his resistance entails, but he just can't force himself to do it.

The quiet sigh is the only warning he gets before Deku’s hand rests delicately on his shoulder, making a humiliating shudder run throughout his body. A few seconds later, small sparks of pain start dancing where the other's touching his skin. Bakugou doesn't try to move away.

“Come on, Kacchan. We’ve talked about this, didn't we?” The voice is eerily calm, tainted only with couple stains of tiredness. “Can't you at least try to be nice?”

The pain intensifies as Bakugou doesn't respond. It travels down his arm, all the way to the fingers that are gripping the sheets so tightly by now, that they'd definitely rip with the smallest movement. His muscles burn and he can't help but whimper almost silently. He knows the resistance is futile, knows that Deku will take whatever he wants from him anyway, but he simply can't will his limbs to listen. His whole body begins to curl up on itself.

“Is the pain really so much better than hugging me?” The blond barely registers the note of coldness that spices the voice now with his ears starting to ring. He does notice, however, when the agony quickly consuming his body starts crawling towards his lungs.

“No,” Bakugou whimpers despite himself. He still doesn't attempt to escape from the touch while first tears make way to his cheeks. He doesn't even notice when his own palms grab Deku. “Please no,” he sobs desperately, terrified. He doesn't want it there. Not after the last time.

The pain stops almost immediately then. The firm hands pull him closer, cruddling him until he's pressed tightly against Midoriya, sobbing quietly into his shirt. He's still tense as fuck, of course, hating the fact that the other's palms are on his back, stroking it in what probably means to be a reassuring gesture. It feels like everything but.

“Shhh, shhh, it's okay, Kacchan.” The voice is gentler now, seemingly almost kind. Of course, Bakugou doesn't believe it for a second, even if it makes some of his muscles relax ever so slightly. “You're okay now, everything is okay. Nobody's going to hurt you.”

If Bakugou wasn't as panicked, he'd snarl at the ridiculously stupid statement. Ha, right, like he'd ever believe him after all he's done. Heck, even after only the pain he's caused him a few moments ago. He knows Deku’s a filthy fucking liar.

“That's all right, just let it all out,” his captor keeps muttering against his ear, while Katsuki starts to slowly calm down. Of course, he can't get too calm while being pressed against him, but at least the fear of being forced to choke and drown in his pain until he passes out because his lungs refuse to work properly has mostly passed now.

His breath becomes a lot less erratic and tears stop leaving his eyes to sulk Midoriya’s plain blue shirt. He doesn't even try to move away, aware that the attempt would only be fruitless at best, and at worst could make the burning pain return to his body. It's been quite a while since he learned his resistance is futile and ultimately, he has no real choice of where his path is going to lead. The only thing he influences is how difficult and painful it ends up being.

“Feeling better?” The palms move up to start combing his hair and playing with the spiky strands that stand out here and there. Bakugou hates how gentle they stay. Nevertheless, he nods lightly (not wanting to find out how weak his voice must sound after crying). “That's good, that's very good,” Midoriya mutters right against his ear then, and finally lets him go.

Katsuki jerks far away and to the other corner of the bed. He curls up on himself, hiding most of his face in his palms but still keeping watch on Deku through his slightly parted fingers. His whole body is rigid.

“Alright, alright, I get the message.” Weirdly, Bakugou can almost hear a tint of bitterness in the voice. “Just say one word and I'm gone. Unless you want food, that is.”

The red eyes immediately snap towards the small table standing a couple of feet away from the bed. The blond’s almost surprised to see that there are actual dishes standing on it. From the angle he's at, it's hard to see what exactly they contain, but he notices the light steam coming of off them. That means warm food. Probably nothing too fancy, since he can't smell it at all (definitely not as spicy as how he prefers it), but it doesn't matter in the slightest. Why?

Because Bakugou is starving.

He's not sure when was the last time he ate, but he's pretty sure he’s gone through at least an entire week on nothing but water. It has to have been even longer since he had anything filling and warm. Katsuki can feel his mouth water and his stomach twist excitedly. He can't miss this chance. Swallowing nervously and clenching his fists once again, he moves back closer to Deku. It's basically impossible to force his body to touch him, but he sits so close that, if he wanted, his captor could easily tug him against his chest.

“What do you want me to do for the food?” He's blunt because it's more than obvious how much he wants it. And, obviously, Deku doesn't get mad at him for it, just smiles almost painfully genuinely.

“Not that much, I promise,” the green-haired man answers, rubbing Bakugou's thigh gently. “Nothing you can't give me.” When Bakugou raises his brows questioningly at him, Deku just smiles further, before pointing down on the empty floor in front of his legs, which are dangling off the edge of the bed. “Just ask nicely, and I'll feed you.”

These types of moments are when Katsuki thinks he's actually lucky. Because sure, kneeling in front of the other is humiliating, but at least Deku has no sexual interest in him. It was something the blond feared the most during the earlier days of his imprisonment - waking up just find himself pinned down and raped. But despite seeing him naked many times, Deku had never seemed at all affected. Never touched him in a sexual manner. So now, as Bakugou settles in front of him on his knees, he's fairly certain he won't have to ask in any special way.

Well, obviously, he still hates it. Hates the hints of superiority in Deku’s voice, hates how this position makes him feel even smaller and more hopeless than he already was. He hates himself, what he allowed himself to become, since he knows the extends he'd go to for simply getting a chance to feel filled after so long. Yet he still does it, because he simply can't miss this chance. There's no telling when will be the next time he's offered anything to eat (last time he refused, he had to wait additional 8 days before Midoriya ‘mercifully’ feed him), so he pushes past the humiliation and the slight pain of his protesting body and gets on his knees. He's looking down, trying to focus on the slippers instead of how much more vulnerable this position makes him feel. His lungs hurt, and he's so, so close to a panic attack, but he manages to swallow it down. He can't miss this opportunity. Can't let himself screw this up.

“Can I…” Katsuki tries to start but pauses upon noticing how shaky his voice is. Actually, his whole body is trembling, and all he can do to stop it is tense each and every one of his muscles. Slowly, he takes a very big breath. Only then, he tries to start again. “Deku, can I… can I have some food, please ?” His tone of voice isn't really nice at all, and in some aspects, it sounds more like a threat. Bakugou hopes it's good enough anyway.

He stiffens a hand touches and cups his cheek but somehow manages to not flinch away. He doesn't want to be terrified, but he's been fucking conditioned to be. Even gentle touches can bring overwhelming, mind-numbing pain. Actually, they're exclusively gentle touches that do that. Yes, Deku’s never been straightforward physically violent with him. He hasn't even ever seen him actually angry. That's why, although the hand is careful and doesn't even force him to look up at its owner (he's almost thankful for that, because these eyes would certainly make him fall apart), Katsuki's heart can't help to beat so fast that he's scared it might explode, or at least jump out of his chest. His own eyes water again, but he manages to blink away the wetness.

“Please…” he repeats, trying to sound a little more genuine. His voice is still mostly bitter, still basically accusatory, but they both know he can't do any better right now.

“Oh, Kacchan…” The blond hears a sigh above himself. The hint of disappointment painting it makes his body stiffen so much more. “I don't think this is gonna work.”

Bakugou… didn't expect to hear that. Involuntarily, he tilts his head, trying to understand what he meant by that. Fuck, was it not good enough and he's not going to get any food?

A second hand enters his hair.

“I really thought the mixed approach would work. But you kept being stubborn and I ended up hurting you more than expected,” Deku continues, sounding almost… sad. It's an emotion that he doesn't display in front of his captive that often. “And this conditioned you exactly how I didn't want it to, you know. God, I'm so stupid. This is gonna set us back months !” He chuckles almost desperately. Meanwhile, Bakugou cannot comprehend what he's talking about. He shifts on his knees, opening his mouth to ask what the fuck is Deku trying to pull now, but before he can, there's a hand around his throat.

Deku’s never been physical before. He's never hurt him like this.

He tries to struggle against the grasp when he's pinned down on the bed. God, he hasn't struggled in so long. He must look pathetic, with his limbs flailing panickly around. The hand around his neck tightens its grasp, cutting off his breath for a moment. The other makes a quick work of ripping off his shirt.

Bakugou is crying again.

“Shh, it's all alright, it's gonna hurt only a little,” Deku mumbles, roaming around the blonde's exposed chest with his fingers. Only seconds later he twists his nipple painfully, making him basically wail. “Besides, you won't remember anyway. I mean, I'm already doing a hard reset, so why the hell should I try to hold back?” It's almost as if the other tries to justify for himself what he's doing, while Katsuki keeps crying and writhing around.

“Please, stop,” he chokes on his own sobs when Deku starts working on pulling his pants down. His nails scrape against his neck and arms, but the green-haired man doesn't budge.

“Really, I promise, you won't remember a thing.” He mutters once again, before wrapping his palms around his dick. “You won't have a clue anything happened.”

The next time he wakes up, he really doesn't.

Chapter Text


Name: Bakugou “Kacchan” Katsuki

Sex: Male

Blood type: A

Sexual Orientation: Unspecified

Date of birth: 04.20.XXXX

Weight: 48 kg

Height: 172 cm

Quirk: Quirkless

Allergies: None

Medication: [Redacted]

History of medical treatment: [Redacted]

Important notes: Unable to take care of himself; requires checking the status of at least once every 24 hours. Easily injured, frail because of a quirk-caused terminal illness. Prone to paranoia and nightmares. Terrified of choking.

(N: This information will be updated with any new discoveries.)

Trial #1

Status: Ended, Unsuccessful

Subject status: Sedated; Ready for the hard reset.

Length of the trial: 68 days (XX.XX- XX.XX.XXXX).

Description of the approach: Mixed; Reward-Punishment (pain) system.

Memory erasure: None

The reason behind ending the trial: The subject has not made any progress during the last 22 days of the experiment. He remains hostile despite willing to cooperate. Responds only to direct threats and promises of reward. Seems to have developed a phobia of being touched. Suffers panic attacks in the presence of the tester. Doesn't try to initiate interactions with the tester. Therefore, the approach was deemed unsuitable.

(N: From now on, I'll write down everything I do in case the next trial is unsuccessful and for future reference.)

Trial #2

Status: In progress

Date of the hard reset: XX.XX.XXXX

Subject status: Resting after the hard reset

Description of the approach: Building dependence on the tester through gaslighting the subject.

Memory erasure (besides the reset): Yet to occur.


Trial #2, 1st day

06:17 PM - The subject woke up confused and mildly distressed after the reset. The tester answered his questions according to the script 1A (separate file), to which he reacted negatively and didn't believe the tester. The subject had to be forced down and restrained for his safety. The tester left the subject alone to calm down.

07:24 PM - The subject remained hostile while the tester came back to clean the injuries he caused himself in his struggles. Tester avoided excessive physical force, relying on the quirk Paralysis . The tester didn't answer any of the subject’s questions, staying quiet besides expressing words of worry and encouragement. The tester asked about the subject's physiological needs, to which the subject answered negatively. The tester left, promising to come back in an hour.

10:12 PM - The tester brought food (vegetable shake) to the subject. The tester expressed disappointment and worry according to the script 1C at the subject's lack of cooperation. The subject was force-fed thanks to the partial use of the quirk Paralysis. The tester left the subject alone for the night.

11:06 PM - The subject threw up on the sheets.

The man sitting by the desk sighs, shuffling through the papers. How is he supposed to get through all this anytime soon? Countless pages and so little time... He's frustrated.