He's always been told to keep wild animals behind iron bars.
To chain them up, to tie them up, to cut their claws down to bloody roots. To not look into their eyes, to not talk with them, to not follow them as they would tear him up into pieces as small as the shards of a glass.
But Midoriya Izuku was never really the person to do what he's been told.
Since early childhood on, he has been a curios boy, open-minded and highly intelligent with tangled green hair and cute freckles. He could have been a tiny little thing, just as the other children in this innocent time of childhood had it not been for the fact that he, the one who wanted to become a superhero so much, was told he hasn't got any quirck at all.
And maybe that was the moment where white innocence began to shatter and wings were colored black.
Weak rays of light flicker through a broken lightbulb.
The room is cold, dark walls are covered in mold and somewhere, there's the annoying sound of a fly. The stench of blood mixes with the smell of rot and builds the ghoulish odeur of death. A bottle of dark liquid, probably red wine, is situated on a small table made of black wood. Empty, cristaline glasses stand on the surface like transparent, unmoveable guardians. Something feels moist under his naked feet and a persistent headache doesn't seem to go away that quickly. All in all, it's not a nice state to wake up to. Far from nice.
The headache is blocking his thoughts as he tries to remember how - for fuck's sake - he ended up here. He is desperately recollecting his memories, but somehow, they slide away just in the moment he thinks he can finally recall something.
The only thing he is certain of that there has been a party. Right, Pikachu and that goddamn hypnotic emo wanted to celebrate their shitty engagement, so they all ended up in that one bar they frequent often. Most of the former class 1A has been there, excited to see their former classmates finally engaged after being painfully cringy while pinging over a year for each other. He drank some glasses of booze, danced a bit, but what happened after that? Did he went home? What was the last thing he did? Jesus Christ, has he been drunk? Or worse – did someone drugged him?
With an angry snarl, he looks down at himself. No matter what happened, one thing is clear : Somebody intends to keep him here, someone intended to kidnap him. His torso is covered in a very thin but strong rope, arms tied behind the wooden chair, leaving him completely unable to move. He tries to calm himself down, to not fall into the cursed arms of panic and anxiety. But he feels how his heart is beating fast and how cold sweat is running down his back. This isn't the first time he's held captive, but somehow, he has a feeling that this time is much more darker and sinister than he'd ever expect it. Did the League of Villians kidnapped him again? If it was so, why does every memory he tries to catch is so goddamn blurry?
He closes his eyes, now focused on saving his strenght for fighting. He has to remember what happened. So there was this party, and he drank some stuff and smoked some weed, and then … the nerd. With his stupid freckles and the chaos he calls his hair. They went outside after Deku drank a bit too much and got sick, taking a walk in the fresh night air.
Suddenly he rises up. Does that mean they caught the nerd too? He panicks and shakes his head frantically, looking around to find the green haired nerd. But there is not even a trace of another human being here.
As he is caught up in thoughts about what kind of horrible things they might do to Deku, he hears footsteps, grewing louder and closer with every step. His body tenses up, he tries to get ready to meet whoever the hell dared to bring him in such a situation. He will beat the crap out of this unworthy parasite of a villian. Just try to touch him, he will rip his fucking face off.
He is expecting to see somekind of an distorted individual, someone plain ugly. Truth to be told, at first he can't clearly see who's coming up into this excuse of a room. The first thing he notices is how tiny the man is who approaches him. Smaller, more fragile than himself, he thinks that this must be a joke. How could someone as tiny as this creature take him down here? “What did you do to Deku, you asshole? Where is he?” he blurts out, his voice dangerously mad and low.
He doesn't know why this is the first thing to come out of his mouth. (Or rather, he does know. He doesn't want to admit it.)
But then everything is lost as he hears the man in front of him laugh. Such a joyful sound, light as a feather, warm as the first days of summer. An angel's laughter trapped in a demonic soul. He sees his eyes now. Sees the countless freckles. The mess of hair on his head.
It can't be. This must be a dream. A fucking nightmare.
He opens his mouth to say something, but he is interrupted.
“You're searching for me? I'm right here, Kachan. I must say, I'm very flattered knowing that the first thing you ask about is my wellbeing.” , Deku sing – sangs.
There is something in his voice. The usually cheerful and happy sound of Deku has got a fragrance of twist in it now, as if it was corrupted by a darkness so forceful, it may come out of hell itself. It left Bakugou in shock hearing these icy tunes coming out from the mouth of somebody who is usually the sun himself.
“I have no time to spare for your useless, upcoming questions, therefore, I will answer anything immediately. You see, I have great plans with you, dear Kachan.” And then there's this fucking giggle at the end of Dekus sentence. This fucking giggle, that makes his veines freeze and his heart stop for mere seconds.
Bakugo is set in place, locked in his movement as if every muscle, every bone is his body is glued togethter. The shock is overwhelming and quite frankly, he still doesn't really believe what is happening right now.
“Don't look so dumb! You're such a smart boy, I know you figured out by now that is was me who brought you here! You were so utterly cute yesterday, caring about me after my little play. Who knew the great Katsuki Bakugo could be such a sweet and loving man?”
Now all the memories fall together, like a puzzle that is solved piece for piece until the final image is shown. And Bakugo really doesn't like what he sees.
He wants to scatter this distorted image, paint with red colour over it until nothing of that bizarre, perverted Deku stays on the canvas. This situation right here is wrong on so many levels, he can't even beging to count.
“To be honest, you're really boring right now. The Kachan I know would now rage with anger and call me names. Would try to escape and smash me into pieces. Why are you so silent now? Did I overrun you that much? Or have I scared you?”
“The hell you scared me, fucker! What is the meaning behind all of this? Why did you take me here and what's up with this creepy behaviour of yours? Explain yourself, fucking shithead! Or I'll kill you right here and right now!”
His anger comes back with a massive force, adrenaline being released in his blood, tightening his muscles, as he struggles to get the rope off of his body. To hell with the shock, to hell with the confusion, to hell with everything, for fuck's sake! After awakening from the cacophony of his shock, he just wants to snap the nerd's neck. Lay his hands around Deku's slender collarbones and squeeze them as tight as he can until the shithead would admit all of this is nothing but a fucking bad joke.
“That's the Kachan I like to hear. Give me your anger, your fear, show me this beautiful expressions on your pretty face...”Deku mutters as he comes closer to his object of desire. His voice is low, a purr from a dangerous animal, ready to devour his prey.
“What the fuck are you talking about? If you don't tell me right now, that this crap is a joke, I'll kill you - “
His words are cut up as Deku suddenly places himself in his lap, takes his face forcefully in his hands and smashes his lips onto his victim's. The wooden chair creeks as the nerd shifts his whole weight on Bakugo's thighs, trying to kiss him forcefully and inserts his tongue.
He doesn't resist.
(Bakugo always wanted this. Kissing the nerd so hard he couldn't breathe, watching Deku only mutter his fucking name when he fucks him with long, deep thrusts. Watching him cum while begging for more. But this isn't it, this isn't his sugar coated dream, this is a rotten nightmare.)
Their kiss is sloppy and luckily, very short. Deku lets go of him, hands still on both sides of his face. Pain marks Bakugo's features, eyes twisted in torment and anger. His breathing is rigid and there's no arousal in him, just plain pain. He has to wake up.
“No, you won't kill me. You won't want to when I'm finished with you. I'm gonna break you, Kachan. You know, killing doesn't always means taking a knife, or a gun... I have my ways to let you die in the most beautiful ways possible...”
An endless fall of shivers is running over his skin, he feels electrified, as if each and every word of Deku was a single shock. How could his nerd turn out to be this crazy bastard? How could someone as bright as Deku kidnap an innocent person?
How could Deku harm him?
“Why?” he asks angrily, voice trembling, but still trying to be a blazing firestorm, “What the fuck happened to you for you to get so messed up in that head of yours?”
Deku is still sitting on his lap, his legs on either side of the chair, crotch pressed tightly against Bakugo. There's a smug grin on his face and it has nothing to do with the Deku he once knew.
(He shouldn't call him Deku anymore. Because that man wasn't the boy he fell in love with and denied it for so so long. This right here was Midoriya Izuku. A twisted, bizarre and sinister version of the aspiring hero.)
“Why, you aks me? Well, why not is the better question!
You made me do it. You were the one who said I could never become a hero, quirkless as I was. And even after gaining my quirk, even after becoming part of the UA... there was your tiny voice in my head, that grew bigger, and bigger... until I realized, that the whole hero thing, the whole saving and loving thing, just wasn't for me.
I think we all have that darkness in our hearts, some people just lock it up better than others. But you, my dear Kachan, you opened the gate to my heart and let darkness consume my soul. And like you said so many times, I'm a weakling. I let myself be consumed.
And guess what? I bloody love it!”
Deku leaned over to Bakugos ear, hot breath like burning ashes.
“Thank you for showing me my true colours. And now be a good boy and let me open the gate to your heart as well...”
(And as you keep a beautiful singing bird in a golden cage, you should lock the gate and throw away the key if you keep a monster behind closed doors. )