Thread by @pockyhucks

thinking about this again
//cws #kamideku, #nsfw, panic attacks, praise, platonic bkdk

https://twitter.com/pockyhucks/status/1397253709244080130

The first time it happens, it’s not supposed to be Kaminari.

Deku has these… bouts, moments of clarity where he feels like he’s a treadmill on overdrive, running himself ragged before he plummets straight down into panic attacks.

They sit under his skin, achy and hot, and then climb up his throat, down his arms, make him want to run a thousand laps around UA until he passes out.

It used to be he’d ride them out in his room at home, curled up in his bed and trying to breathe like he’s not absolutely sure one wrong move, one poorly executed breath will send him to an early grave.

/Here lies Midoriya Izuku, who died because he fucked up his own panic attacks./

Kacchan found out about them their first year, bursting into Izuku’s room wanting one thing or another, looking for something to yell at him about.

Izuku flinched at the sound, tripped over his breath, clutched Kacchan’s shirt and told him he was going to

die, die, die, help him /please./

And Katsuki had tried his best, Izuku knows that, sitting at Izuku’s side as a solid, quiet presence as he rode the attack out. It had helped, a little, but he focused so hard on Katsuki’s hand,

unsure and light on his back, how he wanted it to crush him, give him something grounding.

But it’s the best he’s got, for a while. He gets keyed up, his hands shake, his vision tunnels, and then he goes to Katsuki’s room, sits on the corner of his bed and pretends like he

doesn’t wish the blankets around his shoulders were someone else’s arms, the hands pressed to his eyes a little less familiar.

Until Kaminari.

“You look like you ran, like, six miles before you got here, dude,” he says, propped up on Katsuki’s bed with a manga open in his lap.

“I did,” Izuku pants, and glances around Katsuki’s almost bare room. “W-where’s Kacchan?”

“Uh… I think he’s out with Kiri?” He waves his manga around. “I came in here to bother him while I read but… are you all right, man?”

“Yeah,” Izuku breathes. God, his hands wont stop shaking, even with the way he has them clutched behind his back.

He either feels like he’s going to vomit or claw all his skin off.

He either feels like he’s going to vomit or claw all his skin off. He gives himself a reminder to breathe, and then remembers he’s standing in Katsuki’s door, shaking apart, and tries to make himself move to go.

Tries being the key, because even the thought of moving right now has him frozen in place despite the fact that he just spent the last hour sprinting the track. “I-I’m fine.”

Kami sets his manga aside and curls his legs up underneath him with a tilt of his head. “You’re shaking like—I actually don’t think I’ve ever seen you shake this badly.”

“It’s nothing, really, it just h-happens s-sometimes—"

He’s never really pegged Denki as the attentive type, but there’s a strange sense of recognition in his eyes. “Are you having a panic attack?”

Izuku nods. Kami’s mouth presses tight and then relaxes. “Do you usually come to Kacchan?”

Another nod. “He, um. It helps to be around someone I trust. It’s h-harder. Alone.”

Kami glances around, and then scoots back until he hits the wall at the head of Katsuki’s bed. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Izuku answers automatically. He doesn’t think it’s untrue, considering he really would trust Kami to cover him, and they’re friendly enough, but—“It’s weird, I don’t want you to feel like you have to—”

“It’s fine!” Kaminari says brightly. He pats the spot next to him gently, wiggling his eyebrows and sending Izuku into a breathless laugh. “Come here, bro.”

“O-okay,” Izuku says, and shuffles through the door, his body carrying him over to the bed on autopilot.

Usually when this happens, Katsuki takes the desk, and Izuku takes his bed, curling up against his blankets and drowning in the smell of the laundry detergent Katsuki

has used since they were kids, all familiar soap and burnt sugar.

But Kaminari is here now, and Izuku has a knee pressed to the edge of the bed precariously, hands up uncertainly as his heart beats somewhere high enough in his throat that it feels like his tongue is throbbing.

“What do I…?”

“What do you normally do?” Kaminari asks. “Do you want me to touch you?”

Izuku flushes, and nods. Kacchan never touches him, but he never really asked him to, and just the thought of that, of asking Katsuki for anything more than he gives him already—

“Izuku,” Kami says, and Izuku gets knocked out of his own head when Kaminari wraps his hand around one of Izuku’s flailing wrists. “This okay?”

Izuku swallows, and nods, his thoughts careening to a stop but his heartbeat drowning muffling anything outside of his head.

Kaminari gives a little tug and guides Izuku into sitting between his legs, his back to Kaminari’s chest and—wow, is he warm.

Warm and… soft, even with his skinny frame. Izuku knows they’re about the same height, but knowing is one thing and Kaminari’s legs bracketing in his is another, his chin coming forward to hook on Izuku’s shoulders. “Is /this/ okay?” he asks.

Izuku swallows and nods, his hands clutched to his chest instead of wrapped in the blankets where they usually are. But this—this is /nice./ Kaminari feels safe and comfortable and solid and real at Izuku’s back, and he’s got a million focal points—Kaminari’s thighs pressed

against his hips, and his breath on the side of Izuku’s neck, the soft glide of his shirt as Kaminari shifts, getting comfortable.

And Izuku never—he never /asks./ For things. Or, he tries not to. It’s the one part of Katsuki’s personality he’s unfortunately picked up but at least he /knows/ it. It’s why he suffers in silence during most of his panic attacks.

But Kami is just sitting with him, already perched comfortably at his back, and it’s hard to keep down the little voice in his head that says it could be /more./ It could be better.

He clears his throat, shifts his weight, and somehow murmurs, “Can you… can you touch me more? You don’t /have/ to, it’s just—”

“Like this?” Kaminari asks, and Izuku shivers when his hands land on Izuku’s thighs, firm and small.

His hands are small, smaller than Izuku’s, with short fingers and rounded nails. They feel good. They feel so good Izuku’s breath catches, and he ducks his head, in hopes Kaminari can’t see how warm he’s getting in the face.

“Yeah,” Izuku breathes. “Thanks.”

Kaminari hums, and then his hands start to move, sliding soothingly over Izuku’s thighs, up-down, up-down.

Izuku watches it with a nervous attention, shivering every time Kaminari’s hands crawl closer to the creases of his legs.

His breathing still isn’t evening out, but it’s not so bad it’s all Izuku can think about, even when Kaminari shifts, and presses his nose into the side of Izuku’s neck with a sigh.

And Izuku just lets himself drift thoughtlessly for once, his eyes slipping closed as Kaminari’s palms press down towards his knees. It feels like being unwound, like a spool of thread coming undone as he relaxes into Kaminari’s hands, into the slow heartbeat at his back.

He tips his head to the side when Kaminari’s lips find his neck too, gentle and featherlight as he kisses under Izuku’s ear, down to his shoulder, slow and methodical.

He doesn’t even really realize it’s happening, not until Kaminari’s tongue meets his skin and Izuku makes a breathy, affected noise, a quiet /ah/ that just barely leaves his lips.

“Okay?” Kaminari asks.

Izuku nods shortly and shifts until he can press his hands to Kaminari’s knees and tilt his head back more. “Mhm. Okay.”

“Can I touch your stomach?” he asks, and Izuku nods at that too, melting as Kaminari’s hands crawl slowly up his hips, under his shirt.

The tips of Kaminari’s fingers on his skin shock him, a little zing of electricity making Izuku’s stomach clench tight, but Kaminari is

whispering, “Sorry, it does that,” and walking his hands up Izuku’s bare stomach the same way he did his thighs, slow and reverent.

It makes Izuku’s stomach roll, pared with the slow way Kaminari is still kissing his neck, though this time he manages to keep his voice down, his hands flexing on Kaminari’s knees.

“You’re softer here than I thought you’d be,” Kaminari mumbles into his skin, and Izuku squirms when his nails drag down his side, stopping just shy of the waist of Izuku’s pants. “I always thought—I mean you’re so built—”

“Muscle is soft relaxed,” Izuku explains, though he assumes Kaminari has gotten that, based on the way his fingers squish together the parts of Izuku’s stomach that /can/ squish.

“Can you…flex?” Kaminari asks, and Izuku opens his eyes, just long enough to watch Kaminari’s hands moving under his shirt. He tenses his stomach, a little difficult with the way he’s sitting, but he still feels Kaminari’s quiet gasp against his neck, the way his fingertips prod

at Izuku’s body.

“Woah,” he breathes, buoyed by a little laugh. “That’s—uh, that’s more of what I expected.”

Izuku snorts out a little laugh, and then relaxes back into Kaminari’s chest, his stomach tensing automatically when Kaminari’s fingers walk down too low, leaving little sparks in their wake.

They’re more frequent the longer they go on, the more sounds Izuku makes as Kaminari turns to leaving little bites he follows up with kitten licks, when he tilts Izuku’s chin up with his nose.

“Oh,” Izuku breathes, when one pointed shift has Kaminari breathing hard against his ear, something solid and… hard against his back. His mouth snaps shut with the realization that that’s Kaminari’s cock, but he also realizes he doesn’t… hate it.

Being desired is still something foreign to him, even if that’s just a natural reaction for Kaminari to have in a situation like this.

Izuku himself isn’t unaffected, really, because every time Kaminari’s knuckles brush across his hipbones, Izuku’s cock twitches in his pants,

something he was hoping Kaminari couldn’t see from his vantage point at Izuku’s side.

“Izuku,” Kaminari says lowly, and Izuku shivers at the way his voice wraps around his name, breathy and sweet.

He jumps, when Kaminari’s hand crawls lower, over the bulge in his pants to cup Izuku’s cock. “Let me take your mind off it.”

“Yeah,” Izuku breathes, and turns his head, tipping it enough to be able to see Kaminari’s heavy lidded, blown out eyes. “P-please, Kaminari—”

Kaminari’s mouth is warm and firm when he kisses him, moving gentle and sure as Izuku tries to just let himself feel Kami’s hands instead of the gentle roaring in his head. He knows, though, that his breathing is a little hard for different reasons than the panic attack now.

Kaminari’s hand slides back up, presses against Izuku’s stomach before sinking into his pants, his fingertips skirting along the length of Izuku’s cock.

“/Oh,/” Izuku gasps, drawing back from Kaminari’s mouth to catch his breath. His fingers feel so good on Izuku’s cock.

“Izu,” Kaminari says, and Izuku opens his eyes to look back at him. “Open your mouth.”

Izuku shivers, his hips bucking as Kaminari wraps his hand firm around his cock, warm and a little rough.

He does as Kaminari asks, mouth parting softly as Kaminari leans in for another kiss, this time cutting Izuku’s thoughts out with the press of his tongue past Izuku’s lips into his mouth.

It’s hard not to let his moan slip out now, when Kaminari is licking slow and hot into his mouth, keeping Izuku’s lips parted as he strokes his cock gently, more teasing than anything, a little uncomfortable until he slicks his hand up at Izuku’s dripping head, smearing precum

down his cock easily.

It’s a lot, making Izuku’s head spin with Kaminari’s hand wrapped around his cock, but it’s better than how he felt before by miles, trained on nothing but Kaminari’s quiet hums of approval, the shifting as he gives Izuku room to spread his legs wider.

He pulls back long enough to murmur, “You’re doing so good,” and Izuku /whines/ into the next kiss, his cock jerking in Kaminari’s hand. He’s melting, boneless and useless as his cock throbs, pleasure curling tight and close, pressing down and whiting everything out.

“’m gonna—” Izuku gasps, unable to keep from leaning in for more kisses, from groaning embarrassingly. “’m gonna c-cum, Kaminari—”

Kaminari parts from Izuku’s mouth with a slick drag, pressing his lips to the corner of Izuku’s mouth.

“Good,” he groans, and speeds up the stroke of his hand on Izuku’s cock until his legs are twitching, wider and then closed and then wider. “Let me take care of you, Izuku, you’re so fucking /good, perfect/—"

Izuku cums with a gasp, head falling back onto Kaminari’s shoulder as he rides it out, his orgasm eclipsing his thoughts and his breathing, making him whine out and as Kaminari keeps cooing in his shoulders, murmuring how he’s so pretty, so good for him, amazing.

Amazing, he’s amazing to Kaminari with his cock spurting cum into his shorts, flushing down his shoulders and staving off a panic attack.

Kaminari kisses him again and Izuku drinks it in like he’s starved, digging his fingers into Kaminari’s knees.

—