Chapter Text
Izuku tosses his knife in the air in a twirling arc, then catches it by the handle. He tosses it again, then catches it, a rhythmic little ritual for when he’s bored or anxious. His hand has plenty of scars from botched catches, but it’s been a while since he earned his last one, and he can hardly bring himself to care if he earns another. What’s the point, really? His life is already fucked beyond repair. His body doesn’t even matter anymore.
“Zukuuuu,” Toga whines, hanging upside down from her chair, “entertain me.”
Izuku sighs, catching his knife again, then throwing it at the wall. The sharp blade sticks in with no problem. “What do you want?” His voice comes out dull and a bit toneless, but he can’t really muster the emotion for inflection most days now, so that isn’t really a novelty.
She sits up, resting her elbows on the armrest and her chin in her hands to indicate attention. “Tell me your tragic backstory! What was your life like before the league?”
“Boring.”
“Boo! You’re about my age, something interesting must have happened to drive you here. Who hurt you?”
That’s certainly an evocative question. Plenty of faces flash across his mind. All the people who failed him. Pro heroes and police officers who didn’t believe him or flat out worked against him when he tried to help them. Teachers who turned a blind eye to the bullying, classmates who joined in, a mother who didn’t believe in him. Worst of all, though, the one whose image sticks most prominently, is his first and only love. The best friend who thinks he’s useless, who turned him into an outcast. For the first time in a long time, he feels something. A lot of different somethings all at once, really.
Toga puts both hands on the arm of the chair, leaning forward, her face lighting up. “Oooh you definitely just thought of someone. Come on, who is it? A parent? Teacher? Friend? Something more?”
Izuku stands, walking over to pull the knife from the wall. “What do you care?”
“Revenge is the most beautiful kind of violence!” She exclaims. “It’s passionate. And when you love them, it’s that much more compelling. We could find them, whoever they are. I’d help you. We could take them back here and hurt them for what they did to you.”
Izuku thinks about it for a moment, and feels a spark of vindication in his chest. He could, couldn’t he? There’s no consequences now, nothing left in the world to live for, nothing left to care about. He’s been numb for years, ever since he was forced to officially join the league. This idea, though. The thought of Katsuki, of hurting him just as badly as he hurt Izuku… it sets his heart racing.
Still… “Kacchan is a pro-hero now. I think it would take a little more than just us to get him.”
Toga grins. “What a cute nickname. You must really love him, and know him well.” She pulls a syringe from her skirt pocket. “You must know someone he loves and trusts. Someone who could distract him, or lead him into a secluded area.”
_____
A week and a half of planning and coordinating later, and Izuku and Toga have pro-hero Dynamight passed out in quirk restraining cuffs and chained to a chair in the basement of the southmost LOV hideout. They’ve removed everything but his underwear and tank top, not wanting to risk leaving him any tools to escape.
Toga cocks her head, Mitsuki’s visage slipping away like melting wax. “I can see what you see in him, he’s handsome.”
“Yeah,” Izuku agrees, “everything about him has always been amazing…” he frowns. “Except the way he treated me.”
“So what are you going to do to him?” Toga asks.
Izuku hesitates, realization striking. He doesn’t know yet. He’s never really been the sadistic type. All the times he hurt people he was just doing what he had to to survive. It was never personal. This is very new to him. A niggling voice in the back of his mind tells him he’s crossing a line he shouldn’t, but he pushes it down. Katsuki crossed plenty of lines, himself. Izuku has the scars to prove it.
Izuku thinks about what he wants. An appropriate revenge. Katsuki had always made him feel powerless, but some of the things he had done had just made Izuku indignant. He wants to avoid that. No enabling his anger issues, nothing that will make him feel like he’s toughing something out. No, Izuku wants to humiliate him. He wants to demoralize him. He wants to do things that will make Katsuki beg him for quarter Izuku himself never received.
“I think I’ll start with nothing.”
“Nothing?” Toga asks, cocking her head.
Izuku heads to the door, holding it open for her and ushering her out. “Yes,” he confirms. “Nothing.”
_____
Hour One
_____
Izuku sets up a station monitoring the surveillance cameras with Toga. There’s no one else in the entire hideout but them, so they hunker down with snacks in the swivel chairs and watch the show. When Katsuki first wakes up, it’s with slow, heavy blinks.
“Ooh, he’s awake!” Toga enthuses, shaking Izuku’s arm. “Aww, he’s so confused. How cute!”
Seconds later, Katsuki tries to move his arm and realizes he’s chained in place. His head whips about wildly, and he winces, obviously still feeling the effects of the drugs Izuku had used to knock him out. He turns his head more slowly this time, making eye contact with one of the surveillance cameras.
“Who the fuck are you?” He growls. “What kind of shitty fucking villain uses such underhanded tactics? Come out and fucking fight me!”
“I can see what you mean about the bad attitude.” Toga wrinkles her nose in distaste. “He’s so loud.”
Izuku leans back in his chair, kicking his feet up and turning the volume on the monitor down as Katsuki begins a violent rant. “Yeah, he’s always been like that. Ever since we were kids.”
“And he hurt you like that?”
Izuku nods. “All the time. He was louder, more powerful, more popular. He thought I was useless, and he made sure everyone else thought so too. He told me to kill myself a few times. I actually thought about it, too, but it seemed like a waste. I was always looking for a way things might get better, always thought I might have something left to live for. Now,” he shrugs, “living life for the hell of it isn’t so bad. I’m less anxious now, at least.”
Toga smiles at him warmly. “You seem happier than usual. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk so much. I’m glad my idea cheered you up!”
Izuku snorts incredulously at the irony of that statement, but really, he’s grateful. Toga’s right. This was exactly the kind of pick-me-up he needed.
_____
Katsuki stops yelling and thrashing five minutes in, apparently deciding to preserve his energy for more subtle strategies. Izuku enhances the picture on the monitor, zooming in to watch him more closely. Katsuki’s eyes roam the room, his muscles twitch as he tests his bonds, he moves his feet, toeing at the bolts holding his chair in place.
Izuku watches the whole thing, knowing full well Katsuki won’t find a damn thing to help him.
“This is kind of boring.” Toga says. “Why are you bothering to wait? Couldn’t you just, you know--” she pantomimes stabbing.
Izuku shakes his head. “No, heroes get stabbed. They get beat up and physically tortured. Kacchan wouldn’t see that as defeat, he’d see it as him being strong and enduring.” Izuku grins. “In his mind, heroes withstand all those things with dignity. Pride is everything to him. You know what heroes don’t do, though?” He points a licorice whip at the screen. “They don’t cry, or beg to have their basic needs met, or piss themselves because some villain couldn’t be bothered to give them a bucket. Those are the things that are really going to hurt him.” Izuku bites into his licorice with relish.
Toga wrinkles her nose. “But then we have to clean his pee up.”
Izuku shrugs. “We can just use a hose.”
“Wow, you really are messed up, aren’t you?” Toga laughs.
_____
Hour Two
_____
Toga yawns, stretching her arms above her head. “Anything interesting?” She’d started scrolling on her phone a while ago, when it became clear that Katsuki’s initial tantrum was over and he wouldn’t be doing much else interesting for a while.
Izuku can’t really bring himself to tear his eyes away though, going into an almost meditative state as he watches Katsuki and lets all his memories and plans play on loop in his mind. “He started looking shifty a couple minutes ago. He’s either getting antsy or has to pee, but he hasn’t said anything yet, obviously.”
Toga hums. “Are you really going to make him pee himself? That’s kinda gross, even if we can clean him with a hose.”
Izuku nods. “He won’t beg to use the bathroom. Not the first time, at least. Giving him no other choice, making him lose control of his body like that, it’s the first step to breaking down his prid--”
“Hey, fucker.” Katsuki says, cutting off the last syllable of Izuku’s statement. “What the fuck do you want?”
Toga reaches for the intercom button, but Izuku swats her hand away. “Not yet.”
Toga rubs her hand, pouting. “Ough, why not? Won’t he just think nobody’s there and stop talking?”
“He can see the light of the camera is on. He knows someone is watching, but the quiet should freak him out more than anything I could say would.”
Toga groans. “This is so boring! I’m going to bed, you have fun waiting for your childhood bully to pee himself!” She sticks her tongue out at Izuku as she exits the room.
“Don’t make it sound like that,” Izuku mutters, “it’s not about the pee.”
_____
Hour Seven
_____
Toga walks back into the room in pajamas, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Are you still watching that? Did you even sleep?”
Izuku shakes his phone, where he had been reading wikipedia articles on psychological torture. “I’m double tasking now.”
“That’s better than just watching him, I guess,” Toga admits. “Did he pee himself for you?”
Izuku shakes his head, frowning. “Stop making it seem like I just want to watch him pee. You know it’s not about that. And no, he never even asked to use the bathroom. Guess it’s too much for his pride.”
Toga leans in, eyes on the monitor. “Is he asleep? When did that happen?”
“Like, three hours ago,” Izuku shrugs. “Probably couldn’t help it, that drug we dosed him with saps your energy for at least twenty four hours after administration, and all that yelling probably tired him out.”
Toga squints at the monitor, pointing. “Hey, could you zoom in a bit?”
“Sure.” Izuku adjusts the camera, focusing in on Katsuki’s face.
“No, no, his crotch.”
Izuku’s brow furrows, and a slight blush dusts his cheeks. “Why do you want to see that?”
“Just do it.”
Izuku sighs and acquiesces. He sees it at the same time as Toga does.
She makes a triumphant noise, pointing “oh my god, I knew it, he’s totally hard!”
She giggles, clearly delighted at the new development. “He’s totally over-compensating. All that dick-swinging and it turns out he’s, like, kinda below average at best.” she snickers some more. “I wonder what he’s dreaming of that’s got him all hot and bothered.”
“It might just be that his bladder is full, pushing on his prostate.” Izuku turns the volume on the monitor up. “If it is a dream, I do remember he used to be a sleep talker when we were kids. He might say something about it. It was always all ‘die! die!’ back then, though, so I wouldn’t put it past him for it to be the same now.”
“Is this guy really a hero? Seems like he belongs on our side.”
Izuku’s mouth flattens into a thin line. “Yeah. I guess he just never grew up.”
_____
Katsuki starts whining like a dog in heat about fifteen minutes later. From what Izuku can tell, he’s dead asleep, but he’s having some sort of wet dream, rubbing his hips up into the fabric of his boxers for some friction and relief.
Toga holds her phone out for Izuku. “Did you know the human bladder can only be held for nine to ten hours before it fills up and you risk having problems?”
Izuku checks the clock. “We captured him seven hours ago. He’s definitely going to pee himself in his sleep.”
“Probably!” Toga says. “But it looks like something else wants to come out too!” She points at the monitor, snickering.
Katsuki’s hips are working faster now, grinding up into fabric that would probably chafe if he were awake to feel it. Izuku can faintly hear him mumble something in his sleep. So he is still a sleep talker. He turns the knob on the volume all the way up, the sounds of Katsuki’s harsh panting and moans filling the little monitoring room.
Izuku swallows, shifting in his seat. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to do that in front of Toga. This is definitely starting to turn him on. He can’t really help it, though. Katsuki has always been beautiful, and now he has four cameras trained on him. His gaze flicking from monitor to monitor, Izuku watches the standard view, then the close up of Katsuki's face, then the one of his cock grinding into the front of his boxers.
The moans remain wordless at first, just sounds of pleasure and harsh breathing. Then one comes out more defined than the others. Izuku blinks owlishly, sure he misheard. He fiddles with the volume dial, even though he already knows it’s on its highest setting. The next time Katsuki says it, there’s no mistaking what he said. In a keening, drawn out voice, he moans the word “Deku.”
Immediately after, he whines louder, his head slumping to the side. Izuku checks the close up monitor, and sure enough, a wet spot is growing in Katsuki’s boxers. At first, Izuku thinks he might have come, but the wet spot keeps growing, and growing, until his boxers are soaked and liquid is trickling down over the edge of the seat. Izuku’s hand clenches into a fist at the sight, and he’s becoming uncomfortably aware of his own throbbing erection. Katsuki’s hips have begun to twitch slightly again, even though he’s still peeing, the wet patch spreading onto his tank top. “Deku,” he moans again, making Izuku jolt.
“Oh, wow! He finally did it!” Toga's voice jolts him from his reverie, and he turns to look at her. Her phone is in hand, and she clearly just looked up from it to see what was happening.
“Well, that’s enough for me!” She stands, stretching again. “I’m going back to bed, I just woke up and wanted to check on you. You go to bed soon too, okay?” She pats him on the head. “He peed, now you can rest in peace.”
Izuku bats her hand away, annoyed. “Yeah, okay, I’ll go to bed soon.”
“You better!” She threatens jovially. Then the door clicks shut behind her.
Katsuki’s hips have begun to pick up speed again. He’s thrusting into his own mess, probably dreaming the wetness and warmth is something else. Something of Izuku’s, if the name he’s been moaning is anything to go by.
Izuku frowns. So Katsuki wants to fuck him, then. He thinks back to all the times he’d put his hands on him in middle school, called him useless, degraded him. Was Katsuki going home after and fantasizing about doing it all again, while fucking him?
Anger surges through Izuku. Fuck that. Fuck him. Izuku is the one that has the power now. He’s the one that has him tied up, covered in his own piss, and desperately fucking the air for release. Izuku shoves his pants down his thighs, his dick springing out at full attention. He spits into his palm and begins to stroke himself at the same pace of Katsuki’s movements.
He imagines bending Katsuki over and fucking him with those chains on. He imagines slapping one of Katsuki's perky, round asscheeks, watching it grow red and jiggle as he fucks him harder. He imagines the noises Katsuki is making are for him, for his cock in Katsuki's ass, him bending Katsuki over, using him, degrading him. Not the other way around.
What would his face look like, when he realized his fantasy had been inverted, warped towards himself? Would he cry, the way Izuku had when Katsuki had first started hurting him? Maybe he’d spit vitriol at him, tell him to fuck off, try to regain the upper hand. But it’s hard to be dignified when you’re humping nothing and moaning like a bitch in heat. Maybe he’d shut up then, when his dignity washes away and all that’s left is the raw ugly truth of who he is.
Izuku overlays his mental image with the picture in front of him, and a spike of arousal courses through him when Katsuki’s body locks up and he moans louder than before, his cock twitching in his boxers and the fabric at the head getting even darker as he finally comes.
Izuku strokes himself faster, panting, eyes screwing shut as he loops all the fantasies and real images and sounds in his mind. It doesn't take long before he's biting his lip and bringing his hand down to catch his come in his palm. His stomach jolts, and he moans, rubbing his thumb shakily against the underside of the head of his cock. He's never felt anything so intense. No fantasy or reality has ever made him come as hard as this. He takes a deep inhale, then slowly breathes out, his muscles relaxing as his orgasm recedes. For a moment, he stares blankly at his messy hand. This did not go according to plan.
He stares at his hand and searches within himself for remorse, some sort of indication he regrets this, some sort of disgust with himself. He finds nothing.
He looks up at the monitor, and sees red eyes blinking drowsily back at him.