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Hizashi skidded to a stop, realising his mistake too late. A dead end. He spun back around, ready to race back in the other direction, only to feel the hair on the back of his neck raise.
He couldn’t see the figure in the dark, but he could feel their presence, eyes glowing red somewhere beyond his sight.
He swallowed, reached for his quirk, only to feel his grip on it slide away.
He had barely hesitated, but already it was too late, he barely took a step back out of the trap he had been oh so skillfully corralled into, before fabric wrapped around his body like a cocoon and dropped him to the floor.
The collision was hard, and instantly there was a knee pressing into his back, hot breath on his neck.
“Found you,” it was a low purr, a threat.
He couldn’t help the way he relaxed at that voice, settled into his hold. Shouta was his safety, his security, his body gave him away.
Shouta laughed, deep and a little mean, pulled the bindings tighter.
“Don’t forget what I’m going to do to you. Get comfortable, if you want, but you won’t get to stay that way for long.”
“We’re in public. People will notice if you-“
“Yeah, about that-“ Shouta dragged him off the ground, and shoved him through a door. “You should have run faster.”
It was an abandoned warehouse, dank and dusty, the slam of the door echoed off bare walls.
Hizashi fell to the filthy floor, with nothing but a flick of Shouta’s wrist, unable to do anything against the inescapable tightening of his capture weapon.
Shit, he’d had this all planned. He’d herded him, like an animal, into exactly the place he wanted him. All those twists and turns, running through dark streets, and he’d only been playing into the hands of his pursuer.
He had never had any control. The illusion of freedom had been nothing but that, an illusion. Escape had only been wishful thinking.
“Fancy giving it another go?” Shouta leaned against the door, arms crossed, hips cocked. Looking down on him like he was a bug.
He bucked, strained, sweating at the strain. He was already exhausted from the chase.
It was no good, every movement only tightened the capture weapon further, pressing in on him, oppressive and claustrophobic.
His breaths pulled it tight against his chest. He whimpered, tried to hold his face off the dust strewn floor.
“Someone will hear.”
Shouta’s boot pressed down on the back of his head, ground him into the dirt.
“No they won’t. You’re mine.”
He let his bindings unravel, leaned down to pull off Hizashi’s jacket.
He didn’t let the opening go. He reared back hard, knocking Shouta off balance, making him tumble to the floor. He didn’t look back to see if he stayed down, he just ran for the door.
Shouta growled, low and fierce, like a wild animal. The sound sent a thrill up Hizashi’s spine.
He lunged, weight landing on him, full force.
He tackled him to the ground so easily.
It felt more dignified when he was using the capture weapon. That, at least, was an unfair fight. This was just Shouta’s strength, his skill at hand to hand combat, and still Hizashi couldn’t even compare.
He kept trying to escape, but it did nothing.
He couldn’t stop it, when Shouta wrestled off his clothes. He fought all the more fiercely when he reached for his waistband, it only got his face slammed to the floor again, while his pants were yanked down and tossed aside.
Cold air ran across his skin. He shivered, writhed, whimpered at the loss.
He hadn’t even had to tear. His clothes had come off intact. He was that easy to defeat.
He clearly needed to train harder.
Or maybe Shouta was just that good.
“Shit, Sho, at least pretend it’s hard to beat me.”
A huff of a laugh, fingers rubbing against his skin while they held him down.
“That’s the thing with heroes, overconfidence. We can be defeated, like anyone else, a good fighter can still take you down. I can do anything I want to you, anything at all.”
He tried to summon the indignation he was supposed to be feeling, it didn’t entirely work, but he managed not to just beg for whatever it was Shouta was offering. So, that was a miracle.
“I won’t let you,” and it was maybe the worst acting he had ever done.
Shouta smothered a laugh into his hair.
“Love, you can’t stop me.”
He couldn’t help the way the words made his skin heat. A deadly mixture of threat and those goddamn pet names. Already, he was turning to putty in his hands.
He wanted him so badly, just like this, hands holding him tight while he fucked him into the floor.
But that wasn’t the game.
He closed his fist, grabbed a handful of dust, and chucked it at Shouta.
He avoided his eyes, because of course he did, but still he heard him cough, swear.
The weight let off his legs, but it didn’t help.
He whipped out his capture weapon, quick as a flash, trapping his arms against his sides, winding around his torso, pulling his ankles to his back and wrapping around his calves.
Shouta’s fingers ran beneath the fabric before he tied it off, leaving him in something close to a hogtie, carefully checking his work.
“Not too tight?” He murmured quietly.
“Nah, it’s good,” Hizashi smiled, soft, already close to floating.
The feel of the capture weapon was familiar, reassuring, cradling him everywhere it touched. He knew already how his legs would start to ache, but that was okay, Shouta would take care of him.
He kicked his knees further apart, landed a solid slap on his ass, sound echoing like a gunshot.
Hizashi’s hips jerked, his dick dragging against cold concrete, precum mixing with the filth.
“You got dirt on my hero costume,” Shouta growled, grabbing a fistful of his hair and forcing his head up to look at him.
Sure enough, there was dust on his clothes, in his hair, smeared on the side of his face.
It shouldn’t have made him look hotter.
It did.
Hizashi had a thing about dirt. He knew. Shouta knew too. That would be why he had chosen this place.
He’d probably had everything tested first, knowing him, or the entire thing had been faked for the sake of this, carefully made to look and feel unclean when it actually wasn’t. His meticulousness around their more complicated scenes tended towards the obsessive, but Hizashi would never complain about the results.
“Oh no, I’m sure you wouldn’t do anything nasty to me in return, please don’t punish my tight little ass Eraserhead, I couldn’t take it!”
“If you ham this up too much I will stop the scene,” Shouta sighed.
Hizashi giggled helplessly.
“Sorry Sho, I just couldn’t resist, it was right there!”
“Must you pick low hanging fruit?”
“Well…”
Shouta slapped his ass again, sighing harder when Hizashi continued to laugh.
“I’m going to fist you.”
Well, that stopped him laughing.
“Wait, really?”
He’d been wanting this for ages, but Shouta had always said no.
“You failed to escape me, let yourself get dragged into an abandoned warehouse on the bad side of town, couldn’t even stop me ripping off your clothes and leaving you naked and bound. The consequences have to be notable, or you’ll never learn.”
“Hey, I tried!”
“You failed. You were caught. Do better next time and maybe you won’t have to take my fist up your ass. For now, you get what you get.”
Shouta grabbed a bag from where he’d had it stowed, and its presence was a visible reminder of the cause.
Shouta’s jaw clenched with what looked like a hint of genuine anger, Hizashi’s chest tightened with the shame to match.
He was a pro hero, he should have done better. If Shouta was a villain he’d have been caught, just the same. He could tell, Shouta was going to make him pay dearly for his mistake, he was going to make sure it was a lesson he never forgot.
His toes curled at the thought.
Shouta pulled thick black latex gloves over his hands, made them snap, and Hizashi’s mouth went dry at the sight.
Then, he pulled out an enema bag, dangerously full.
“Hey, you don’t need to use that. I’m clean already.”
Shouta raised an eyebrow, lubed up the nozzle.
“Why would I trust you to do that right? You wouldn’t be in this situation if you were capable of showing sense.”
His cheeks burned, embarrassed, his eyes slipped closed.
“I woulda run better if it wasn’t you,” the truth, even if he hadn’t intended it.
It was so hard to be afraid when his husband was involved.
“I know,” Shouta breathed against his ear. “I’m not angry, it’s just play.”
Hizashi breathed out, relieved.
“You’re a better actor than me, you know?”
Shouta snorted.
“There’s a reason I’m the underground hero.” His hand was gentle on his thigh, slick latex rubbing up to his rim. “Had you fooled, huh?”
“Just a little.”
The nozzle pressed into him, bigger than his usual one. Hizashi jerked at the sudden penetration, stilled beneath Shouta’s hands.
“You’re taking all of this,” Shouta held up the bag, let the water start to flow. Hizashi jerked at the feeling, steadily filling him up. “And a second bag to follow.”
Hizashi strained against the bindings.
“Shouta, please.”
“No,” Shouta tutted, squeezing the bag and sending the water spurting faster into him. “You’re taking two bags. It’s happening.”
“Fuck,” he whimpered.
Already, his guts were beginning to cramp. He knew it would only get worse.
He could barely move, no matter how badly he wanted to squirm, his body was held tight.
Shouta kept squeezing the bag from time to time, chuckling meanly when it made him yelp and whine.
When he switched to the second bag Hizashi wanted to scream, but Shouta’s hand clamped over his mouth before he could, eyes burning red and unblinking while the water flowed deep.
There was a tremor running through his body, stomach muscles clenching, fluttering.
“Be grateful it’s just water.”
The thought was enough to make him moan.
Shouta’s lips quirked. Knowing, always knowing.
“Think how much more it would hurt with a nice bit of ginger.”
His ass clenched. The water didn’t stop.
“Is it almost over?” He whimpered, quiet against the floor.
Shouta held the bag where he could see it, gave it a firm squeeze.
Hizashi shuddered, bit his lip.
Still half of it to go.
The cramping was constant now, sharp and painful, and the fullness was also beginning to become uncomfortable. He could feel his stomach pressing against his bindings, nowhere to go as it filled, capture weapon applying unrelenting pressure.
“Need me to give you a distraction?”
Shouta’s lips brushed his cheek, a tease of a kiss. He leaned into his touch, reassurance against the ache.
He knew the way Shouta thought, he was certain the distraction would only make things worse, and yet… he craved his husband’s cruelty, he craved it all.
“Please, fuck, hurts so much Sho,” and it wasn’t a plea for mercy, just the sharing of his pain.
Shouta’s forehead touched his. They breathed together, experiencing this as one for a long still moment.
“I’ll make it worse,” almost like a confession of guilt.
“Yeah,” Hizashi agreed, strained for his lips, so glad when he met them with his own. “I know,” almost like forgiveness, permission as it was.
“Going to make you keep that inside for so long.”
He shuddered, trembling at the thought, whimpering against Shouta’s lips.
“Going to have to distract me well,” a shared breath, tangling in the air.
“You’re going to hate me for it,” there was that hint of fear, the insecurity that Shouta could never quite shake, especially when they did things like this.
“Nah,” Hizashi grinned, ignoring the cramping in his gut for the sake of chasing away Shouta’s frown. “Never. Going to make me come so hard I scream.”
“I’m going to make you scream, either way.”
“Sho,” he caught his eye, voice firm. “It’s okay. Don’t underestimate me.” He let a teasing smile slip across his lips. “My masochism is so much more hardcore than your sadism will ever be.”
Sho raised an eyebrow, fighting the quirk of his lips.
“We’ll see,” he pulled away, right back to smooth confidence and dangerous intent. Hizashi let his body relax against the floor, settled back into his suffering.
He was unsurprised when a riding crop swished down on the swell of his ass, pain sharp and biting. Unsurprised when Shouta followed it with a squeeze of the bag.
He still yelped.
The swats came in quick succession, each as sharp as the last.
Shouta covered every inch of his ass, just as the last of the water dribbled into him.
Hizashi was panting, trembling, stomach sore and distended, unbearably full.
Shouta ran his fingers under the bindings again, adjusted them a little to allow for the fullness of his belly, squeezed it while he yelped.
Then he took the nozzle out.
“Hold it or I’ll fill you up again.”
Oh. Fuck.
It was an empty threat, it had to be. Surely there wasn’t enough water in that duffel bag.
It was a big bag.
Fuck, he wouldn’t put it past him.
“Whatever you want, Sho,” he gritted his teeth, clenched his ass tight.
Shouta laughed at him, patted his head and ground it into the dirt.
He started laying down precise hits to the tender skin where thighs met crotch, watching him jump and waiting to see if he let water dribble from his hole.
He didn’t know how long it went on like that, just knew that by the time the blows stopped coming he was floating, high on endorphins and Shouta’s control.
“Good boy, you did so good, so obedient for me,” tender hands traced over his skin, rubbed at his rim.
He whimpered when he felt a finger dip in, clenching as tight as he could, desperate to be good.
Shouta’s laugh was soft, warm.
“Gonna pick you up, stay nice and tight for me.”
He kept him bound, simply carried him to a corner of the warehouse where there was a drainage grate, had him empty his guts over it.
Hizashi’s face burned with humiliation, but he was good, he did as he was told.
The relief of having the water out of him was immense, he practically sobbed from it, Shouta shushing him and wiping his hair from his face, pressing delicate kisses to the side of his face.
When he lowered him back to the ground the concrete felt almost comfortable by comparison.
“Still okay with taking my fist?”
Hizashi sighed, long and deep.
“Please.”
Shouta obviously saw the exhaustion that was seeping into his limbs, because he didn’t hesitate. He moved as slow as he had to, but no more so, pressing long fingers into him, two, then three.
Hizashi arched his back and felt the bindings pull tight, heart loud in his ears when Shouta added the fourth finger.
His hands were so big, so strong, he ached at the feel of him.
The thumb tucked into his palm, and he began to push.
Hizashi whimpered, pulled his lower lip into his mouth and bit down, longing for his hands to be freed so he could scrabble at the ground, bite down on his fist, anything other than being forced to simply feel.
It hurt, despite the abundance of prep and lube, of course it did. The sensation was overwhelming.
Shouta’s knuckles were pushing at his rim, and it burnt, felt like it was never going to fit.
Then they shoved through, all at once, and Hizashi yelled.
The sound rebounded off the walls.
“Oh my god,” Shouta breathed, awed, flexed his fingers inside him. “I didn’t think that was going to work.”
Hizashi laughed, a little out of his head, breathless from the stretch.
“You were always the only one who could handle me… get it? Cause your entire hand- holy shit.”
Shouta groaned, sounding more pained than Hizashi had at any point tonight, and pushed his hand deeper, before balling it into a fist, rubbing spitefully against his prostate with the backs of his knuckles.
Hizashi was fairly sure he had just ascended to a higher plane, absolutely out of his mind, it felt so fucking good in a way that was too damn much.
It was everything he liked.
“Is this what I get for giving you what you want? Bad jokes while my hand is up your ass?”
“Nah, it’s what you get for marrying me.”
Shouta started to move his fist in and out, punching deeper on every thrust, and Hizashi lost all track of time and space.
The pleasure built like an avalanche, the orgasm buried him, vision whiting out and hearing going fuzzy.
He screamed, hearing glass shatter in the brief moment before Shouta stole his quirk away, grinding his cock against the floor.
He worked him through it, then pulled out his fist.
Hizashi panted against the stretch, that brief moment where he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get it back out, then whimpered when it was gone.
He had never felt so empty.
Shouta didn’t unbind him immediately, he just stroked him through it, kissed his cheeks and his neck while his breathing slowed and the shaking subsided.
“Do you need me to fuck you?” Shouta asked, no expectation in his tone.
“I love you so much.”
Shouta smiled and kissed him properly.
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“My ass feels like glass. Don’t know if I’ve ever come so hard. When we’re home?”
“I’m not surprised,” Shouta took off his gloves, searched through the duffle bag. “That was intense.”
“No shit,” Hizashi stretched out his spine, lazy as a cat on the filth covered floor. “Man, I fucking loved that, can we do it again?"
"Of course," Shouta’s smile was small, tender. He found the wipes in the depths of the bag, started cleaning him up. “You know I’d do anything.”
“Not if you don’t like it,” Hizashi raised an eyebrow, staring his husband down.
Shouta laughed, bashful, rubbed at the side of his neck.
“I like watching you fall apart, that matters to me more than the rest.”
Hizashi reached for him, pulled him close.
“You’re such a shameless romantic about sex, it’s cute.”
“There is nothing cute about my hand up your ass.”
Hizashi sniffed imperiously. “Agree to disagree.”
“Can we go home? I need a fucking shower.”
“If you insist. And then we do what you want, anything you want.”
“Anything?”
Hizashi threaded his fingers through Shouta’s, pressed a kiss to the back of his knuckles.
“Baby, you know I’m just as far gone.”