Archive of Our Own ^beta

Izuku is on the hunt for an All Might video when he stumbles across it. His mother told him to close the tab if he accidentally gets to the “wrong side of the internet,” and he knows that’s what he should do. 

The website is garishly decorated. He scrolls out of curiosity and sees a thumbnail video of two men lying together. They’d look like they were cuddling if it were not for the pained expression on the face of the man on top. The one on the bottom has his mouth open; the victorious slash of his smile reminds him of Kacchan.

Izuku clicks on the video and is immediately blasted with noise. He mutes it with a slam of his hand and the room falls into an abrupt silence. It’s past Izuku’s bedtime, so he listens carefully for his mother’s footsteps. The house remains quiet, so he gets his earbuds, plugs them in, lowers the volume just in case.

He watches in silence. He knows he’s not supposed to see this but can’t stop. A warmth blooms in his stomach and his thingie gets hard the way it does sometimes. 

(He touches it on his bed, and more frequently the couch until the fateful day his mother walked in—she calmly chastised him, said it was healthy to play with himself, but only within the privacy of his own room.

“It’s healthy,” she said. “It’s normal. One day you’ll want to do it with someone you like.”

“I want to do it with Kacchan!”

“Ah, Izuku, but Kacchan’s a boy. Don’t you want to have a baby one day?”

“Why can’t I have a baby with Kacchan? Is it because he’s a boy?”

“Well, Izuku,” she said, hesitating, “some boys can have babies, but…”

“Can Kacchan?”

“I’ll explain when you’re older,” she said quickly, and left.

Maybe Kacchan is one of those special boys. Kacchan is special, and he can do anything.) 

Izuku slips a hand into his pajama pants and rubs at his penis. There are two men in the video, and one of them is putting his “cock” inside of the other. Maybe the one on the bottom is one of those special men who can have a baby? 

Judging from the heat in his own face, Izuku’s cheeks are bright red. Would Kacchan let him—? 

In the video, the man yells, pulls out, and shoots a white substance all over the other man’s stomach. He rubs it in, and leans over to stick his tongue in the other man’s mouth. He then says, “How does it feel to get my thick come up your asshole, huh? Don’t you wanna get bred?” and the other man starts to cry and beg for more, to do it again.

Izuku, avidly watching, shudders suddenly as his eyes shut on their own, and his hips jolt forward. A little bit of wetness, no more than a few drops, comes out of his dick. After he finishes muffling his gasps into his other hand, Izuku brings it up to his face and sees that it's clear. A wave of disappointment hits him—is he doing something wrong? Is it because he was using his hand? Because he’s alone?

He does some “research.” He doesn’t find what he’s looking for over the next few days, but he knows a lot more.

Oh, well… Kacchan will know. In five days, sixteen hours, and fifty-two minutes (the Bakugous are extremely punctual), he’s coming over.

-

“No,” Kacchan says. His overnight bag is in Izuku’s room, where they both sleep on his bed. Several sets of used clothes lie safely in the hamper. A few of Kacchan’s toys are scattered around, most having taken over the prime real estate of Izuku’s desk. 

“But Kacchan,” Izuku whines. He’s lying upside down with his legs on the wall. Kacchan pokes his stomach so he falls over onto the bed. His legs miss Kacchan, who leans away.

“I’m telling you, boys can’t get pregnant.” Kacchan hops off the bed. Izuku twists himself upright and follows.

“My mom said so!”

“Well, Auntie Inko’s an idiot!”

“Don’t talk that way about my mom!” She’s not here right now, but Izuku defends her anyway. They’re alone at Izuku’s house. Kacchan’s parents have been on their week-long business trip for the past four days, and they do what every parent does when they can’t bring their kid along with them—at least according to Izuku’s frustrated mom, who has been on the receiving end of Kacchan one too many times, despite how outwardly delighted she is to host—they dump their kid onto the nearest family in the neighborhood. 

His mother works night shifts at the hospital, which leaves the two of them alone at night. Izuku, who’s never been good at adhering to a bedtime, doesn’t mind. Kacchan zonks out early—which is fine! He doesn’t disturb Izuku when he wakes up much earlier. Kacchan is much more considerate than other people think—he just doesn’t say that he cares.

Does Kacchan care about him? He always complains about Izuku being in his way and a waste of space, but when he carefully crawls around Izuku as to not wake him, doesn’t that mean something?

Kacchan hollers, “Don’t tell me what to do!”

Izuku startles and tackles him without thinking. Kacchan sidesteps, stretches out a foot to trip him, and cackles as Izuku eats flooring.

“Kacchan.” Izuku, spread across the floor with a throbbing shoulder, directs the sad eyes at him.

Kacchan turns up his nose, immune.

“But if you just let me show you, you’d see that one man was on the bottom, and—”

“I don’t know what kind of gross videos you’re watching—”

“I was looking for an All Might interview, if you’d just let me explain—”

Kacchan steps on his face. “Don’t interrupt me!”

“Okay, Kacchan,” Izuku says meekly against his socked foot.

“I can’t get pregnant,” Kacchan declares above him. The light shines through his hair and gives the illusion that he’s glowing. “I have a penis, dumb Deku. Boys can’t get pregnant. That’s not how it works.”

“But my mom said—”

“Fuck your mom!”

Izuku is silent. His tears trail sadly onto Kacchan’s sock.

“Ugh, Deku, don’t be like that…” 

Kacchan knows that Inko gets mad—well, as much as she can get mad—when he makes Izuku cry. Even though she’s not here right now, she can take one look at Izuku even hours later and know that he cried. It makes it hard to hide things from her—not that he tries! 

“I’m—” Kacchan catches himself before he verbally apologizes. He removes his foot from Izuku’s face and offers a hand to help him up. Izuku takes it and manages to interlace their fingers before Kacchan angrily shakes him off like dirt or a clinging bug.

Izuku sniffles.

“I hate you so much.” Kacchan wraps him in a reluctant hug, stiff and awkward. The overall experience is like bumping into a mannequin at the store. 

Izuku is so happy that he almost cries again. He almost tells Kacchan he loves him very much, but tactfully refrains. He said it all the time as a kid, but they’re so much bigger now and Kacchan says that he has better things to do than love.

Izuku loves to love. He loves his mom, he loves All Might and every single All Might: the Smash Hero chapter (even those he’s not in), he loves school even though some kids could be nicer, and loves Kacchan most of all. He of course wouldn’t tell his mom or one of his many All Might toys! 

But they’re almost ten now. Izuku wants a family when he grows up. He wants to raise his kids with Kacchan. To sleep in the same bed as Kacchan and hold his hand, because they’re old enough to do that sort of thing again. Kacchan would never allow Izuku to be gentle with him, though, no matter how much Izuku tries, and Izuku cries because he doesn’t know why.

He wants Kacchan to let Izuku love him. Izuku loves him very, very much. With the power of All Might! With the brilliance of a thousand—million—kaJILLION suns. Kacchan would say that kajillion isn’t a number. Izuku would say that that’s because the amount he loves can’t be quantified. He’d say he learned the word quantified in school last week, and Kacchan would tell him that he learned it last year, stupid Deku—

“Oi. Let go.”

Izuku releases Kacchan, who—if possible—looks even more uncomfortable than before. It’s a small miracle that Kacchan let him cling for as long as he did. Izuku’s still close enough that he can taste the smooth skin if he inhales deep enough. “What’s wrong?”

“Your—thingie.” Kacchan juts his head to it. “It started sticking up when you were”—he doesn’t want to say the word hugging, so he skips it entirely—“me.”

“Oh, ah…” Usually the boys laugh and jeer whenever someone’s “dick” is hard when they’re changing in front of their cubbies after getting dirty outside. Apparently it’s embarrassing, although he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t understand the boys his age—he’s always ahead in the wrong things and behind in others. He takes solace in following Kacchan, because Izuku will always be behind him. “Is that weird?”

Kacchan’s irritated tick of the mouth illustrates clear as day that he doesn’t know. “It’s gay.”

“But why is that bad?”

“Dunno. The hag says it’s, like, weird.”

Ah, well, Izuku knows that word well. Runty, thin, mumbles too much. Weird. Izuku is weird.

Is that really such a bad thing to be? After all, if Kacchan doesn’t think he’s weird—he calls him that, but Kacchan doesn’t always say what he means—or he knows he’s weird and doesn’t care, it’s a win-win either way.

“If you’re gay...” Kacchan starts.

Izuku thinks back to the two men in the video, and how he got so hot watching them. “Are you sure it’s… bad?”

“My mom calls ‘em faggots. I’m not a faggot.”

“I’m not either,” Izuku says in a rush. “I like girls too!”

“If you like girls more, then it’s probably okay.”

Izuku likes Kacchan most, but now he can't say it. “Okay.”

“Whatever. I don’t care.” Kacchan yawns, not bothering to stifle it. He turns and without further ado, starts to shed his clothes. 

Izuku squeaks and watches him.

Kacchan balefully glances back as he strides away, throwing the pile of clothes over his shoulder and having them landing perfectly inside the hamper—he’s here too long to use his overnight bag. He’s gone too quickly for Izuku to marvel at the perfect shot. “I’m taking a bath now. You’re not allowed in the bed unless you’re clean.”

“K-Kacchan! Wait!” Izuku sheds his own clothes. He’s halfway through the door frame before he realizes that Kacchan will yell at him if he leaves his dirty clothes on the floor, so he tries to shoot and misses. Kacchan’s not here to laugh, so he guiltily places them in their proper place and they flop on top of Kacchan’s black shorts and shirt. Their AC works correctly three quarters of the time, but Kacchan’s never been bothered by heat anyway.

By the time he reaches the bathroom, Kacchan has already set the water temperature for the bath and pushed the window up to let the steam out as the tub fills. He’s sitting on their singular stool—a cute plastic contraption with blue monkeys—and scrubbing shampoo into his hair, already dripping. Izuku stares as one drop coalesces at his shoulder, past his flat stomach, and all the way down his outstretched leg.

“Close your mouth,” Kacchan sneers. “Don’t act so surprised that I got here first. What were you doing in there, hiding all your dirty laundry so I won’t have to smell it anymore?”

“My old shirts don’t smell,” Izuku says, offended.

“Well, as soon as you hit puberty, they’re gonna.” Kacchan sticks his head under the shower and rinses off his hair by sticking his hands through it and rubbing vigorously. Clumps of foam fall to the floor with wet sounds. “Now wait for me to finish; we’re not sharing this stool.”

They couldn’t fit anyway, not for lack of trying on Izuku’s part!

Kacchan turns off the water and scrubs the rest of his body with body wash, and then repeats the same process of rinsing using the extendable shower head. The sponge falls back into the bowl full of water at his feet when he finishes. It’s done carelessly, yet doesn’t hit the rim.

“Your turn.” Kacchan clambers in the bath and settles in. The tenseness of his body visibly fades as he props himself up at the edge. They’re tall enough that they can sit without their mouths being covered—well, Izuku is almost there. Kacchan is taller than him by a few centimeters. Their bath is really deep but Izuku doesn’t mind at all.

Kacchan sighs and slips under the surface, which steams. He stays under for a long time—Izuku can’t hold his breath for half as long!—before he rises and takes a deep breath. Water dribbles off his lashes as streams pour from his head. His hair flattens against his head and looks much darker and longer when it’s wet. Kacchan’s face is beaded with moisture, and Izuku looks for as long as possible because he knows Kacchan can’t see so he won’t yell at him for doing so. 

Kacchan’s lips are pink and slightly parted—they’d be warm and soft if Izuku touched it, not that he ever has aside from that one time where Kacchan was about to tell Mitsuki that Izuku was the one who had dug up the flowers (Kacchan had told him to!) and Izuku thoughtlessly slapped a hand over Kacchan’s mouth who was so shocked that his reaction—licking Izuku’s hand, causing him to squeal and let go—was delayed until a few seconds later.

“And stop staring, creep.” Kacchan’s eyes are still very much closed.

Izuku’s ears burn. He picks up the shampoo bottle and in his haste dumps much more into his hand than he could possibly need. He smacks it into his hair and sprays himself in the face with the shower head. He sputters as Kacchan’s laughter rings out loud and mean behind him.

Izuku takes him time washing—if Kacchan sees a speck of dirt in the bath, he’ll drown him, and Izuku isn’t ready to die. On the other hand, Kacchan would have to touch him with his hands and keep them there on his body. Izuku blinks and wills for his lower half to calm down before Kacchan really does laugh at him more.

He lathers himself all over with the shampoo since he doesn’t want to be wasteful, and reaches down for the sponge sitting innocuously in the bowl, not knowing or caring that it has been touched and—and used by Kacchan. Izuku picks it up with two fingers, and when it doesn’t yell at him, call him gross, or tell him to stop, he vigorously rubs it all over his body. In the end, he knows it’s just a sponge, but it’s as close to Kacchan as he’s allowed.

He takes his time, and leaves the shower running, so when Kacchan cracks his eyes open to check what’s taking him so long, Izuku finds the knob intensely interesting and spends the longest possible amount of time twisting it off. Kacchan huffs and sinks back again.

By the time Izuku finishes rinsing, Kacchan’s breathing is deep and his head is tilted back like he’s fallen asleep. Climbing into the tub will disturb him, but this is Izuku’s bath time too! So he gets off the stool and carefully gets into the other side of the tub.

The bath has cooled from unbearably hot to warm. Kacchan’s feet are flat at the bottom and his knees are almost out of the water but not quite. Izuku sits down and stretches his own out to either side of Kacchan. The tub is smooth, and his toes brush Kacchan’s outer thighs: skinny and soft.

Izuku lets them soak for as long as he can. He usually despises sitting still in the bath with nothing to do and usually brings his octopus squeaky toy and a water-proof All Might figurine to reenact a thrilling depiction of All Might vs. Great Ocean Murder Monster Umibozu II, but one the first day, Kacchan saw the plastic container with his toys and got an “I will gleefully destroy anything I deem destroyable” look on his face, so Izuku didn’t bring attention to it. 

Not that he minds not playing in the bath! He entertains himself by categorizing all of Kacchan’s features. He has so little time to see him relaxed and non-violent that he has to take note of everything. It passes the time until Kacchan is ready to get out—Izuku is not allowed to leave until he does, because the house rules proclaim that the youngest empties the bath. Kacchan, the elder, gleefully ordains the same within the Midoriya household. 

 Kacchan has a new freckle right above his upper lip, bringing the total count to a grand total of three. Izuku opens his big mouth and blurts out, “I’m right about the babies.”

“Fuck the babies.” Kacchan recently discovered that he could get away with saying curses without getting smacked, and cheerfully incorporates them into his vocabulary.

“You know what,” Izuku says, “I think you’re saying that because you think you can’t do it.”

“No.” Kacchan gives Izuku his full attention. “Fuck you!”

“I think…” Izuku pauses for emphasis, and both of them are perfectly aware of what he’s going to say next. “I think you’re scared.”

Kacchan knows perfectly well that this is bait, and takes it anyway. His eyebrows are furrowed and ears bright red, and still he yells: “Oh, yeah! I can get pregnant so much faster than you! I bet I can have more babies than you, too! If I tried, I could make the most brats in the entire world!”

Izuku gets on his hands and knees and clambers his way over to Kacchan. “So... Do you wanna do it now?” 

Kacchan stares at him balefully.

“Kacchan,” Izuku says, “having a baby is a big decision. I’m not going to do anything that you don’t want to do.” It seems like something he should say. “Do you want to do this?”

Kacchan pouts at him. He has two options: the first is to refuse but at the sake of his pride, and the second is to… “I don’t want you to touch me with your gross—” He won’t say the word.

“That’s okay,” Izuku tells him, and smooths his hands up Kacchan’s thighs. “I won’t. But I read that it feels really good. Apparently, having—having sex for the first time is a really big deal, and I want to do it with you. You’re special, Kacchan—”

“Are you looking down on me!?”

“N-No,” Izuku blurts, very aware that from this position he quite literally is looking down on him. “Never!” 

Kacchan turns his nose up at him, trying to look down on Izuku despite being at a lower point of elevation, then realizes he can’t, and turns his head to the side like a total diva. Izuku wants to smile but knows that that’ll make Kacchan angry, so he fights it down.

“Can I—” Izuku is not a chicken, no matter what Kacchan says! “Can I give you a kiss?”

Kacchan’s face explodes into red. “The hell?” and Izuku’s knowledge of English letters is sparse at best, but he automatically thinks “h, e, double hockey stick!” in a sort of vivid delight before Kacchan speaks again. “Why?”

“I”—and Izuku knows he’s really pushing his luck here, but Masaru always laughs and says that strange English phrase: give an inch, take a mile. Kacchan grants Izuku the smallest concession such as hand-holding and Izuku jumps on him instead—“I want to—”

“Who cares what you want?” Kacchan snarls, and makes to knock Izuku back when Izuku catches his wrist clumsily.

“But Kacchan, I really, really, really—” 

“If I let you kiss me, will you stop?” 

Is Kacchan referring to the Baby Making Plan, or the kissing, or something else? 

“Yes,” Izuku says immediately, even though it’s a lie. He doesn’t want to lie to his Kacchan, but as soon as Kacchan realizes how good this is and how much Izuku loves him, he’ll want to continue, right?

“Fine.” Kacchan abruptly grabs his face with his other hand, yanks him close, and mashes their mouths together, so hard that it hurts. Izuku doesn’t dare pull back because Kacchan definitely won’t want to do it again, but can’t stop the full-body flinch. He opens his eyes and is momentarily startled by the closeness of Kacchan’s face. Kacchan’s eyes are squeezed shut in typical annoyance.

“We need to do it gently,” Izuku whines against his lips.

“Gently, my ass!” Kacchan shoves him back for real this time. Izuku falls on his butt with a splash and reads between the lines. Kacchan doesn’t do gentle, Kacchan does forceful and violent. 

…And yet he’s caught bugs and made sand castles. “Some things don’t work unless you do ‘em gently…” 

“I DON’T WANT GENTLE!” Kacchan roars.

“Jeez, okay, okay…” Izuku makes the puppy eyes at him. “But how do you know that?”

“Gentle is for wusses!” I’m not a wuss is left unsaid. Kacchan kicks at him, forcing Izuku to the other end of the tub.

“Of course you’re not a wuss,” Izuku soothes him, holding up his hands to keep the water out of his face. “I’m a wuss.” It stings to say, since the reason he goes along with half the things Kacchan does is to prove that he isn’t— he didn’t want to eat the beetle, but Kacchan said it was edible and crunched down on it like a chip—but he wants this so bad—

“What are you saying, huh, Deku?” Kacchan rages. “Being all high and mighty, using that tone on me”—said in the exact tone that Mitsuki uses on Kacchan—“thinking that you’re so smart, that you know more than me thinking you want this—”

Izuku’s dick hardens in between his legs from the shoving and Kacchan’s kicking. Kacchan’s feet are calloused in the right places, toes scraping at the outside of Izuku’s thighs, which are closed since he has no desire for a wayward foot to go in between his legs. The bathroom suddenly seems too big and too small. His heartbeat thunders in his ears, almost drowning out Kacchan’s caterwauling, and his feet tingle and he feels like he needs to pee, except peeing in the tub would be gross, and Kacchan is there—

“—listening to me? Oi, Deku! Are you—”

“Kacchan,” Izuku murmurs, and his brain is clogged in his ears as he jumps forward and tackles Kacchan to the tub and drags him underwater. When Kacchan emerges sputtering and coughing and blindly hitting at him, Izuku kisses him because Kacchan’s mouth is parted. That’s when he slips his tongue in. Kacchan is so surprised that he doesn’t bite it; he gasps, and his thin chest heaves when Izuku, possessed, takes both of his hands and presses them up to either side of Kacchan’s head on the rim of the tub and knees Kacchan’s legs apart to settle himself in between.

“Listen, you fucking Deku, I don’t know what you think you’re doing—”

“No, you listen,” Izuku says, and dunks him again.

Kacchan thrashes underwater, and Izuku counts to thirty—Kacchan wouldn’t want him to go easy—and lets him up. Kacchan’s struggles are violent the entire time, and Izuku catches a fist to the cheek. He presses down harder on his biceps until the time is up, then lets go.

Kacchan surfaces, hacking out lungfuls of water. He can hold his breath for much longer, but Izuku caught him by surprise. His coughs are rough and wet, and liquid leaves his lungs and spatters back into the tub. It takes him time to recover, and Izuku’s hands hovers over his back, frozen over the decision whether to pound it and also terrified to touch him again lest he try to drown him again.

“I—I’m sorry,” Izuku says, horrified. He’s twisted and his head isn’t put on right. Has he become a different person—was he taken over by an evil spirit, an oni? “I—”

“I want to go home,” Kacchan whispers. Izuku can’t tell whether it’s because of the water, but his eyes are red and his bottom lip is trembling.

“No—!” Izuku falters. “I’m—I’m sorry, Kacchan, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, I—”

In that moment, Kacchan’s expression changes. His gaze, previously focused on Deku, turns inwards and hardens like flint. “I want a baby.”

“W-What?!”

“I want you to put a baby in me.” Kacchan meets his gaze. There is a difference in his body language, something that Izuku can’t pin down. The moment of weakness that briefly showed is gone or hidden away. Kacchan’s eyes are calculating, cold, and he doesn’t look the slightest bit scared. “If you want a baby, then I want one too.”

Kacchan is very good at hiding his fear, but his hands indicate if he’s scared. Izuku uses it as a test to talk Kacchan out of recklessness—Kacchan would indisputably succeed, but he might hurt himself. 

Izuku’s greatest dream is to become strong so he can protect Kacchan. Kacchan would deny ever needing to be protected, but there are times when his thumb rubs the pad of his pinky finger in an attempt at self-reassurance, and this is one of them. 

Kacchan is smart and can get himself out of any situation. He disregards his pride if he needs to, but only under extreme duress, like when his leg got caught between two rocks during mountain hiking and he let Izuku call his parents to get him free and held still, perfectly still aside from his thumb and pinky finger pressed together and trembling, trembling.

But what could Kacchan be scared of right now?

“Tell me how to make a baby,” Kacchan says, looking right at Izuku. “We’re gonna make one right now.”

“Are you—are you sure?” The clouds, temporarily dispersed as soon as Kacchan’s head resurfaced, start to cumulate again in his vision.

“Never been surer.” 

“O-Oh,” Izuku begins, caught off guard. “Well, the first thing to do is to put the penis inside and—” A brief flare of something passes through Kacchan’s expression before he hurriedly squashes it down, Izuku glances down to see the fingers going at it like crickets in the August heat. “It doesn’t hurt, it really doesn’t, we just have to be careful and gentle—”

Kacchan spreads his legs.

The air leaves Izuku’s lungs. “W-Wait, we—you—uh—”

“Are you wimping out?” There’s nothing at all on Kacchan’s face and someone less steadfast and more weak would have said please wimp out, but Kacchan is Kacchan.

“No.” Izuku clenches his fists. Part of him really can’t believe that this is happening to him, with him, with Kacchan. “I’m ready.”

Kacchan inhales deeply, looks at the ceiling, and gives a tiny sigh. All of a sudden, he looks so sad. Izuku can’t have that, so he kisses him to wipe that ugliness from Kacchan’s pretty face. 

His lips are plush and oddly pliant. Izuku remembers how much he liked having his tongue inside. Kacchan shudders and gags when he sticks it in as far as he can; his hands grasp Izuku’s upper arms. He holds still other than that. Izuku licks his teeth and the inside of his cheeks—the texture is indescribable so he lingers. 

Kacchan’s fingers dig in harder as Izuku finally coaxes Kacchan’s tongue with his. Izuku opens his mouth to try to get further in, tilts his head to the side, and discovers that they slot together. Kacchan’s nose presses into his cheeks and puffs of air fan out on Izuku’s cheekbone, but he otherwise remains pliant as he struggles to breathe. Izuku bites at his lip and discovers it’s puffy. 

Izuku pulls back. “Is this weird?” He wants Kacchan to like this and is worried that he doesn’t. Kacchan is breathing in weird, little hitches, and his chest blush red. Izuku looks down, and Kacchan’s penis is standing up. “You like this!”

“Ngh… I—” There is a very obvious battle going on within his head.

“I told you you’d like it!”

“This isn’t the baby making.”

“Oh, right. We should probably start doing that, huh?”

“...Yeah.” Kacchan removes his hands finger by finger, and Izuku’s arms throb with nail indentations. He looks to Kacchan for an apology, and doesn’t get one. He’s instead met with a face of pure, unadulterated rage , hidden in a flash so fast that he doubts seeing it at all.

“I’m gonna put it in,” Izuku says.

“Fine.”

He can’t do it in this position. He could drain the tub, but he read that sex can get messy and it’d be wasteful to refill it only to wash it back out. Since Izuku isn’t allowed to clean with the chemicals, and the evidence (Evidence? What is this, a crime?) can’t stay. He looks to Kacchan for help and knows he won’t get any. 

He hooks Kacchan’s legs over his shoulders. Kacchan nervously grips at the edge because he’s about to fall in, so Izuku lets him down and unplugs the drain to let some of it out. The gurgling is obscene within the total silence of the bathroom and Kacchan’s gaze burns his back. When half of it is gone, Izuku replugs it and lifts Kacchan’s legs back up over his shoulders. 

Izuku is on his knees, halfway in seiza. Kacchan turns his wrists around so his thumbs are facing outwards and holds the edge again. The water sloshes around Izuku’s bellybutton now, and Kacchan’s butt is halfway in. With his knees parted, Izuku sees that Kacchan’s penis has softened, and that his—his asshole is within view. Kacchan is a boy, but Izuku’s mom said that boys can get pregnant, so that means that Izuku needs to—

“I’m putting it in,” Izuku croaks. His dick is hard. It’s small—he knows it is—but that’s because he’s young, so why wouldn’t it work the same? He lets go of one of Kacchan’s legs, which digs into his back in surprise, and slips one finger inside.

Or tries to.

Izuku fits the tip of one finger before Kacchan begins to squirm. He doesn’t tell Izuku to stop, though. He stares up with those baleful eyes and bites his lip. It’s out of discomfort but Izuku has the strange, errant thought that it looks sexy.

The texture inside is strange—oddly smooth. Kacchan tenses, relaxes, and his finger slips further in. It seems like the entrance is actually a ring, which makes sense because when Izuku goes to the bathroom, um, well…

Izuku’s finger is all the way inside. Kacchan is wildly uncomfortable judging by the grimace carving itself onto his face. Izuku waits for Kacchan to tell him to stop, and he doesn’t, so he starts to wedge the other finger inside. Kacchan is tight, and everything is gloriously wet.

“Wait—” Kacchan chokes out. 

Izuku pouts in disappointment. He pulls out his fingers and puts his hands on Kacchan’s shoulders.

“Baby oil,” Kacchan yelps before he can push down. “There’s baby oil on the sink!”

Izuku’s smile returns. “Kacchan is so smart!” He’s back in a flash with the bottle in tow. He presses and pops the cap—of course he wants to do this himself. Kacchan snatches it from him, stands up, and turns to face the wall. One hand inches behind him while the other braces him upright. He’s trembling due to the sudden temperature change of getting out of the warm bath.

Izuku sits back and watches. Kacchan’s hand approaches his asshole and hovers right above it. The fingers twitch and go no closer.

“I—” Kacchan croaks. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Just like I did,” Izuku coaches, trying to sound confident and failing. “C-Can I help you?”

“No!” The hand braced on the wall curls into a fist; the nails scratch painfully on the grout. The other approaches its destination. Kacchan inhales, exhales, and slides one finger in. His shoulders tense and the muscles are prominent.

“The next, Kacchan, do the next…” Izuku is aware he’s inching closer. He can only look, though, not touch. Not yet.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Kacchan’s voice wavers. He reaches down and pours more baby oil onto his fingers. He sets it down and the second finger goes in slowly and carefully.

“Another…” 

He does. It takes more time than the others and Kacchan slips when he convulses in a full-body hitch. Izuku instantly reaches to brace him, but doesn’t make contact before Kacchan adjusts.

“You’re so beautiful,” Izuku breathes.

Kacchan’s shoulders rise to his ears and he says very, very quietly, “Deku, is it gonna hurt?”

Izuku doesn’t know. “No matter what happens, I’ll be here.” He says it again. “I’m here.”

Kacchan takes all of his fingers out. “That’s not a goddamn answer.”

“I’m sorry.” Izuku can’t look away.

Kacchan mutters something under his breath. Izuku catches then why are you— but no more.

Izuku places a hand on his hip. Kacchan yanks away, slips, then freezes. 

“Kacchan, you shouldn’t jerk around like that. It’s dangerous, especially in the bath. You could fall and break your head open. This is why we’re not allowed to run in the bathroom. Everything is slippery and wet.”

“I know, idiot Deku.” There is a double meaning there by the heaviness in Kacchan’s tone. Izuku ignores it.

“If we want this to work, then you need to sit down.”

Kacchan does, and Izuku moves him into a similar position. He makes sure that Kacchan’s hips are out of the water, though, so the baby oil stays inside.

“I’m putting it in for real this time.” Izuku’s cock has been hard for a while. It’s small; he knows it is. Kacchan doesn’t comment on its size because he’s too busy looking away. It’ll still do the job. Izuku is a happy, healthy individual.

“You’re a freak,” Kacchan tells him, then gasps as Izuku slowly lines up and penetrates him.

Izuku doesn’t want it to hurt. If this is done wrong, it can cause severe damage. Kacchan is perfect and the thought of ruining him makes Izuku want to throw himself out of the window. “I need you to relax… Please relax, Kacchan…”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Kacchan repeats for the upteenth time. His fingers are white on the tub. Izuku wraps his arms around and hugs him as he gets closer, closer. “Don’t tell me what to do, don’t tell me what to—”

Izuku’s all the way in now. His balls sit neatly next to the globes of his ass. It’s indescribable and nothing like he’s ever felt before. He thinks he’s going to come, and he reaches down to painfully tug at his balls like he saw in a video. He stays still until the pain goes away.

Kacchan’s legs, crossed behind Izuku’s back, tighten. His heels are two points of pressure. Maybe they’ll bruise and Izuku will have a reminder until they fade. “Boys… can’t get… pregnant…”

“We’ll see,” Izuku says, then starts to fuck him.

One, two—

“Stop,” Kacchan gags, “stop, stop, stop—it hurts—”

He couldn’t dream of stopping. Not now, not with his Kacchan. “I don’t think I can,” he wheezes. His hips thrust further in and Kacchan’s hips jerk back and ram painfully against the tub.

Kacchan groans in pain.

“Kacchan…” Drool drips out of Izuku’s mouth and trails down his chin. His vision is fuzzy and it’s difficult to keep his eyes focused, but he wants to see Kacchan’s face. Needs to—

Izuku kisses him. Kacchan’s heavy breathing cuts off and the red reappears.

“I’m gonna—” It feels like he’s gonna pee. Izuku knows that semen is supposed to come out, and yet every time he comes, it’s the same thought again. It’s never come out before—but now he’s f-fucking Kacchan and that’s right, right!?

It continues to build in his stomach, that funny feeling—watching those two men together, in love, and Izuku loves Kacchan, loves him so much. His head is deliriously empty and he can’t get enough air in his lungs and he is going to drown.

“Kacchan,” he moans, “I’m gonna—gonna show you how much I love you—”

Kacchan’s eyes are red like copper, like blood, and vibrant. Wide with something Izuku can’t explain. “No, don’t—” He tries to back away, but there’s nowhere to go. Izuku’s feelings are hurt before he reminds himself that Kacchan doesn’t know what’s going to come next. To him, making a baby is the unknown.

It’s different this time, but also very much the same: the heat in his groin, the tightening of his balls. It climbs into his throat and his head spins with it. He’s going higher, higher—he wants Kacchan with him, hopes he’s feeling just as good as he is. He’s euphoric with it, almost nauseous with the intensity. The moment right before everything ends is a glorious suspension: floating in the nothingness, glittering, endless.

“I love you, Ka—cchan—” Izuku says in between pants. He bites Kacchan’s neck and orgasms. His hips frantically buck into the wet warmth, and Kacchan yells in pain underneath him. Izuku can’t move, can’t think—he’s an animal, uncontrollable, a slave to instinct. And yet, as much as he tries, absolutely nothing comes out. He feels a drop maybe a second later, but that’s useless, he’s useless, he needs to breed Kacchan and he can’t—

When Izuku comes back to himself, his own face is wet and cheeks swollen. His teeth are still digging into Kacchan’s skin so he quickly lets go and sees that the tooth marks are deep but not enough to draw blood— good, he thinks guilty, now they match— and realizes that Kacchan is pulling at his hair and yowling loud enough to raise the dead.

“I’m sorry,” Izuku gasps, scalp stinging, teeth aching to be sunk back into Kacchan’s bony shoulder.

“Shut up,” Kacchan yells, shaking so viciously that his teeth chatter. The warmth of the tub is almost completely gone—Izuku is mostly dry but the majority of Kacchan’s body is submerged and he must be freezing. “Just be done already and let me go!”

“I’m almost done… I need to put the semen in you but I don’t know how,” says Izuku. His dick definitely started spasming. It felt like something should’ve come out, but he knows nothing did. “I had an orgasm but nothing came out!”

The seconds tick by.

“Dumb Deku,” Kacchan says, slightly panicked although he’s doing his best not to show it. He’s squirming like he needs to get away and Izuku’s preventing it. “Just get it over with! What are you doing?”

Izuku thinks to himself; he’s good at thinking. He knows that something should’ve come out. He feels it. When his penis got hard, there was a warmth that spread through him from his stomach. The website told him that sperm comes from the balls, but he’s obviously doing something wrong. The orgasm had swept over him, uncontrollable, and he’d thought that he was going to pee and didn’t. But now that his penis is softening, the urge is back.

That must be it. After the orgasm, you have to pee inside to make a baby.

“I figured it out, Kacchan!” Izuku chirps. He’s so ecstatic that he gives Kacchan a kiss on the lips, and Kacchan is caught so off-guard that he doesn’t try to bite him back. “Are you ready?”

Kacchan sneers at him, face so pale under those three freckles. “Just finish already.”

“I’m so happy!” Izuku tries not to cry. “We’re gonna have a baby together. I’m gonna be a dad, and you’re gonna be a mom.” He hugs Kacchan as tight as he can.

And then, he… lets go. He pisses inside Kacchan, and impregnates him. This pee is different from his normal pee. This has sperm inside, and they will swim up Kacchan’s channel until one reaches an egg, and the miracle of life will begin.

“No,” Kacchan mewls. His arms detach from the tubs and draw Izuku closer instead. He rakes lines up Izuku’s back and then yanks at his hair. Both of them sting, but feel strangely good. That’s probably because it’s Kacchan. He makes things good without trying. He’s special.

“How does it feel?” The liquid rushes out of Izuku’s penis. It’s warm and makes the inside of Kacchan wetter. It feels so amazing. He feels connected to Kacchan in an entirely new way.

“Wet,” Kacchan says, and gasps at another spurt Izuku releases inside him. “Hot…”

“Tell me more…”

“I wonder what a baby’s gonna feel like,” Kacchan murmurs, face contorting in obvious disgust that Izuku ignores, fading away second by second as Izuku fills him all the way up. “I feel so… full.” Yes. Yes, he is. Kacchan is so very full. Izuku touches Kacchan’s stomach with a hand. It’s mostly flat, but he thinks that a very small bump is beginning to form. Just like a mother.

Izuku quietly continues pissing inside him. 

He doesn’t want to disturb the peace of the moment, because Kacchan is finally calm. He tries to make it last as long as possible. It’s good that he drank three glasses of water at dinner; he has so much to give.

“Babies grow inside the mom.” Kacchan’s voice is distant. “I’m gonna need to eat so much so the baby grows up really big and strong.”

Izuku caresses his belly, padded in baby skin. He imagines it swelling bigger and bigger, until Kacchan is huge and ready to pop. So big that he can’t get up by himself, that he stumbles when he walks, and so he… needs Izuku… to help him…

“Ah—ha…” Izuku breathes. “You’re the best, Kacchan… Anything you make is gonna be the best… You’re so… amazing…” 

“Yeah,” Kacchan mumbles, sounding completely out of it. His tone sounds far away, almost private, like he’s whispering secrets to himself in the middle of the night with no one but his blanket and the crickets to hear him. “I’m totally amazing. I’m the best there ever was. I’m gonna be number one…”

And they stay like that. Unlike before, Izuku isn’t the slightest bit bored. They’re both hugging each other—Kacchan is pliant and fits so nicely in his arms, slack and mind somewhere else entirely. Izuku’s cock stays safely inside Kacchan, who doesn’t tell him to take it out. It’s warm inside, and comfortable. He wishes that every day could be like this. Him, Kacchan, connected, together forever.

Liminal. This is the nowhere space. It feels wonderful because they’re together at last. Izuku could get used to this. He really could. 

When Kacchan regains his senses, every bit of heat is gone from the water and he begins to shiver violently again.

“Oh, um—sorry, Kacchan,” Izuku says. He withdraws his dick and piss spills out. The first thing he notices is the smell. The second is that his pee was inside Kacchan. “Here, I’ll clean you up.”

He waits the perfunctory two seconds for Kacchan to smack him and yell that he can do it better on his own. Nothing comes.

“...Kacchan?”

Kacchan sniffles.

“Are you… crying?” Izuku’s voice quavers. Kacchan only cries when something is extremely wrong.

“No.” Kacchan smears the tears away with the back of his hand. His eyes are swollen and red. “I got water in my eyes.”

The water level is nowhere near them. Izuku reaches behind him, removes the plug, and listens to the gurgle as it drains. When it’s empty, he replaces it and twists the knob of the faucet. Hot water gushes over his feet. “C’mon, Kacchan, it’s time to wash up before we go to bed.”

Kacchan still doesn’t move. Izuku sighs, hooks his forearms under his armpits, and tugs him to the other end of the tub. There, he maneuvers out from between Kacchan’s legs and presses himself to his back, supporting him from behind. He wraps an arm around each of Kacchan’s knees and brings them to his chest. The water splashes onto Kacchan’s stomach and washes him clean.

“We don’t want to wash the inside of your butt,” Izuku mumbles, “because the semen needs to stay inside to make the baby! But it smells bad—not that Kacchan smells bad! It came from me!—and since we are going to sleep…”

No response at all. Izuku cranes his head to see if he’s asleep, but Kacchan’s staring steadfastly at the wall in front of him. Izuku wants to get some sort of reaction—anything—Kacchan is pliant like never before. He isn’t sure if he likes it but knows that it’s different, that Kacchan seems almost lifeless, like a doll. Room-temperature, still, and so very pretty.

Quiet and unreactive. It’s almost like he’s not even there. Are you here, Kacchan? Are you with me? Do you like me? Do you love me?

On a whim, Izuku bites the other side of his neck. He needs to make sure Kacchan is still alive. His teeth sink into the delicate skin and an involuntary sound is forced out of Kacchan, almost like a wheeze; he twitches and nothing else. No protest. No rebuke.

“We’re done,” Izuku whispers in Kacchan’s ear, and it’s almost drowned in the surrounding susurrus. The water level is still rising—it’s up to Kacchan’s nipples. Izuku pinches one, and it’s just like he thought it would feel like. Everything feels like a dream. He’s so happy that any second he could float away like a helium balloon. Where would the wind take him? 

It doesn’t matter. Where he’ll end up is a given. He’ll always return to Kacchan; his answer to everything, forever and always, is Kacchan. That is his most important rule, and he’ll never, ever break it.

Kacchan reaches over and turns off the water. Izuku jumps, startled. For a second, he’d forgotten that Kacchan was alive.

“Oh, Kacchan is so smart! I didn’t mean to waste any.” Izuku sets Kacchan’s legs down and stands up carefully so as to not slip. He steps out of the tub to walk over to where his towel is hanging and brings it over. “We only have one since Mom is away. You can use it first!”

He wraps the towel around Kacchan’s shoulders. Kacchan blinks then towels himself off until he’s dry. He then drops it and leaves.

Izuku manages to catch it before it all touches the floor, and only a fourth of it is soaked. He can’t be mad at Kacchan’s rudeness, though, and brings the towel to his face and inhales. The dumb towel hasn’t managed to capture any of Kacchan’s scent, but Izuku consoles himself because every part of Kacchan had touched this towel except the soles of his feet. He might never wash this towel again.

Izuku’s dick twitches, and he guiltily rubs the towel over it, feeling the twinge of heat in his groin when he imagines that this is where Kacchan’s lips have met the cloth. He’s starting to realize that everything is so much better when it’s not allowed. Candy always tastes sweeter when stolen from the jar, his mother’s katsudon is always richer than store bought, and Izuku always feels better when he touches Kacchan where he’s not supposed to.

If Kacchan doesn’t tell him no, then that means he can. And if he does… Izuku loves him so much, and Kacchan can change his mind!

Izuku rips the towel away from his waist and vigorously dries off. He wants to sleep now because Kacchan is in his room, and they’re going to cuddle. Kacchan stopped a few years ago, citing their increasing ages, but Kacchan is letting Izuku do everything tonight, and Izuku really wants to hold his hand.

Izuku wipes off his feet and goes to his room. Kacchan has cracked open the windows, letting the stagnant summer air drip inside. His overnight bag is unzipped, and he’s wearing his pajamas—the pants and the shirt despite the heat. 

He’s in the process of fishing out his toothbrush and toothpaste when Izuku arrives. He freezes when he sees Izuku hovering in the doorway, then shakes himself and approaches. Izuku stills with anticipation, thinking he’s going to get a—a kiss, but Kacchan uncharacteristically twists his body so they don’t touch. Izuku hears the sink turn on after a few seconds, and then hears Kacchan spitting.

(What would it be like if Kacchan spit on him? In his… mouth?)

The running of the water ceases and Izuku realizes he’s standing there naked like a fool listening to Kacchan brush his teeth, so he hops over to his dresser and into his underwear.

The rustling sounds indicate that Kacchan is finishing up, so Izuku hops into his bed and sets aside one of his two pillows. He lies down on his back and stares at the All Might stickers on the ceiling. He doesn’t have any friends other than Kacchan, but they’d probably say something about him getting too big for silly things. Kacchan likes All Might, though, nerdy it may be, even if he keeps it a secret. Izuku is good at keeping secrets. He’d do anything for Kacchan, and this is small in the grand scheme of things. Will Kacchan keep his?

Kacchan returns to the room and carefully packs away his toothbrush and toothpaste. Izuku wants to ask why he’s doing so if he’s just going to have to get them out tomorrow morning, but decides not to at the expression on Kacchan’s face.

It’s blank. So oddly blank. Kacchan is expressive and emotive and it’s strange that Izuku can’t read a single thing in his features. Again, Izuku almost asks why. What is Kacchan hiding from him? Is he still going to sleep in Izuku’s bed—although where else could he sleep, the floor?—and refrains. His self-control is admirable, he wants to give himself a gold star.

Kacchan yawns widely, walks over, and falls face-first into the mattress. He’s asleep in seconds; it’s way past his bedtime, after all. As unobtrusively as he can, Izuku turns him onto his side, props his head onto the second pillow, and covers them both with the thin summer blanket. 

Kacchan’s breathing is peaceful and even, so Izuku molds himself to Kacchan’s back, wraps his arms around his narrow waist, and waits for him to awaken. When he doesn’t, Izuku buries his head in Kacchan’s downy hair. It’s not entirely dry so some strands stick to his cheek. It doesn’t smell sweet or spicy or anything in between—it smells like Kacchan.

“Do you still want to be my friend?” Izuku whispers.

Kacchan predictably doesn’t answer. Izuku hugs him tighter.

In his dreams, Kacchan can light explosions from his hands and fly through the air with perfect grace. His face is torn in a rictus of triumphant anger and he grins at Izuku, pinning him down in an urban setting surrounded by buildings and smoke. Izuku tries to move but is completely pinned down. Kacchan’s left foot squashes his right forearm, his right shin firmly pinning his hips to the ground. His right hand covers Izuku’s face—Shigaraki, he thinks suddenly, not knowing where the name came from or why. But most importantly, Kacchan’s face, oh, his face: lips separated with the barest hint of pink tongue, sweaty hair glued to his scalp, and his eyes—

Kacchan’s chest heaves in and out and blood drips from his forehead. It runs past his sharp cheekbones, swerves, and congeals on the tip of his chin, the same shade as his irises. The drop of blood hovers, shivering, and then gravity drags in downwards. It plummets endlessly and for that infinite moment, there is nothing except that sphere of blood, glimmering in the dusky twilight, only exposed because Izuku brought it there. It’s suspended as it bends and flexes, and Izuku’s eyes cross as it gets closer and closer and closer and—

He snaps awake, lays in bed until he gets his bearings, then checks the All Might clock and discovers that it’s been less than an hour since he herded Kacchan into bed.

Kacchan’s half of the blanket is rumpled carelessly to the side. The space next to him is warm and empty. He might’ve gone to the bathroom, which is why Izuku doesn’t panic at his absence. Kacchan is self-sufficient, and Izuku is so proud of him! 

But then why did he wake up? 

Izuku listens closely, trying to hear Kacchan doing his business or washing his hands. Instead, he hears talking—very quiet, very deliberate. Kacchan is loud unless he consciously wants to be silent.

Izuku pads out of the bedroom. The floor is cool under his bare feet, and the summer air suffocates the rest of the house. Kacchan isn’t in the bathroom next to the bedroom; the talking is coming from the direction of the kitchen. 

Quietly, quietly… The floorboard under him squeaks. Kacchan’s urgent whispering immediately ceases, and Izuku freezes. Caught. 

Kacchan is standing at the side of the kitchen right next to the stove, holding something to his ear. The room is dark and the only color is the red of Kacchan’s eyes, reflected from the lit street lamp outside.

“Kacchan,” Izuku says slowly, “what are you doing?”

Kacchan quickly hangs up and puts the landline phone back in the cradle. “I was calling the old hag because I thought I forgot something. Turns out I didn’t. I’m going back to sleep.”

“Oh. Well, it’s good that you didn’t forget!” Izuku tries. 

Kacchan’s socks whisper along the floor as he walks past. As he crosses Izuku, he pauses almost like he’s going to shove Izuku’s shoulder and knock him out of the way like he does in the school hallways, but then he visibly changes his mind and avoids touching him entirely. 

“Good night!” Izuku says, despite the fact that he’ll be returning to Izuku’s bed straight afterwards.

“Aren’t you coming with me?” Kacchan asks, staring hard at the floor.

“In a second.” Izuku scratches at the back of his head. “I needed a drink, which is why I’m up!”

“I’ll wait with you.”

“No!” Izuku chokes out, then smiles as wide as he can to make up for it. “I know Kacchan is tired! He’s taller than me, but I can reach the cups on my own!” The cups are located on the shelf and Izuku needs a stool or to climb on the kitchen counter to reach, but luckily he doesn’t need to go through that process.

“...Okay.” Kacchan leaves the kitchen and goes back to the bedroom. The door shuts behind him.

As quietly as he can, Izuku tiptoes over to the phone, picks it up, and redials. Three numbers beep. Izuku’s heart stutters erratically and he clutches at his chest. The ringtone drones in his ears, until the person at the other end of the line picks up. The woman’s voice is pleasant but serious.

“Hello, you’ve reached 119, what’s your emergency?”

Izuku instantly hangs up by slamming the phone down. His eyes dart into the hallway where Kacchan left. Kacchan had closed the door. Why did he close the door?

The dream comes back to him in its infinite glory, and he’s temporarily paralyzed with a feeling of absolute defeat. This was a total loss. The puzzle pieces are mashed into the wrong places and their defining curves have snapped off. There’s no way to fix what’s broken because he’s broken the way. But what has broken between them? Irredeemable, irremediable, irreparable. Big words that he’s too young to know. Why is he like this? What is wrong with him? Why does he want to love so badly and does it wrong? Isn’t love supposed to be amazing and powerful and can never go wrong? Love is the ultimate savior and the answer to all thi—

No. The answer to all things is Kacchan. Kacchan. Two syllables tasting of smoke and blood. He wants to do something and doesn’t know what he wants. To fix. To right the wrongs, to be protector of the small, savior of the weak—

There is a knock on the front door.

Tears sting his eyes and all the thoughts vanish from his head, puffing away and drifting into nothing. A burned notebook is ash. A bowl emptied of udon is a memory. Visions from another time and place are nothing at all.