Blue Dandelions

Of Submission | Anonymous

Summary:

Izuku has bad days. Days when nothing goes right and his mind doesn't shut up. Days when he wants to just let go and have Kacchan catch him.

Or:

Being the Number One is hard.

Sometimes the voices in Izuku's head are loud.

His own inner voice telling him he's not good enough, that people depend on him, that he must do better. Because Deku is the Number One Hero, the Symbol of Peace. An entire society trusts in him to give them hope, to keep them safe, to–

To give them more than he sometimes can.

He comes home some nights with a dark cloud of emotions hanging over his head, his shoulders hunched and every fibre of his body tensed; stiff like he's one crack away from shattering.

Sometimes, Izuku just wants to forget. He wants– no he needs to forget. And Kacchan understands.

They're in the shower now. Kacchan had taken one look at him and promptly understood what Izuku was feeling without him having to say a word.

He'd been stripped of his clothes and ushered into the shower, Kacchan stepping right behind him.

The spray feels warm on his back, pelting his muscles and falling into his eyes. It's warm but not as scorching as the large hands that trail down Izuku's body. They feel so good. Slowly like soft clay in the hands of a potter, Izuku starts to relax.

"Hands on the wall, Izuku. Come on, baby. Be good for me."

Rough palms cover his own, directing him forward to brace against the tiled walls, while a muscled thigh gently wedges between his to spread his legs apart. The tiles feel cool against his hands and face, a contrast to the warm water raining down. It feels nice.

"Kacchan..." Izuku sighs, melting when those hands busy themselves back on his body, lathering rich foam onto his skin in slow sensual circles. His eyes flutter close as the heady scent of orange blossoms fill the humid air.

"Just let go, sweetheart. I've got you." Kacchan presses up against him, a steady and solid presence that; a pillar of strength ready to catch Izuku when he falls.

The vicious little voice in his head quietens, Kacchan's deep timbre drowning out the last of nagging self doubt.

Izuku sinks deeper, a gasp leaving his lips when fingers brush over his nipples. He's sensitive.

"Just like that, baby. You're doing so good." Izuku mewls when Kacchan cups his pecs, squeezing them gently. He moves closer to Izuku, their bodies pressed flush together.

"More, Kacchan. Please." He needs. He needs more. He doesn't want to think.

The fingers playing with his nipples hasten and Izuku cries out when they pinch his little nubs to stiff peaks, rubbing them soothingly before twisting them again.

"Good?"

"Y-yeah." Izuku shifts his ass back, arching his back moaning when he feels Kacchan's cock stirring to life. Without thinking, he grinds until Kacchan's cock slips between his open thighs, curving up to rest against his pussy. He's slicking up, water and arousal mixing to drip like a leaky faucet.

"Kacchan, I need–" He tries to explain. He's starting to feel floaty, walking a tightrope, his mind and body desperate to drop.

"Let go, Izuku." Kacchan repeats again, assuring and steadfast. His hand trails down, down, down. A finger enters his sopping wet cunt and another presses on his swollen clit. "I'm here, baby."