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Tsunagu’s first mistake was accepting Hawks’ invite to go drinking after work.
They didn’t always work together, but Tsunagu admired the winged hero. Despite the casual and free-spirited persona Hawks put on, Tsunagu knew that his quirk was not as easy to use as he made it out to be. Being able to feel and control hundreds of feathers at once, sometimes independent of each other, required a focus that took years upon years of training to master. Not to mention the overwhelming feeeling of having so many pieces of oneself spread out and listening.
Tsunagu knew, because it was much like his threads.
Though his threads weren’t exactly like part of himself. He tried to mostly use his own denim, as it was where he had the strongest control, but he could feel the thrum and shift of all fibers around him if he focused. The sensory backlash from being aware of every fiber in everyone’s clothing around him had made his parents seriously consider moving to a nudist colony when he was a very young child, overwhelmed from feeling every swish of fabric in the room.
Fortunately, as his brain grew, it became more capable of accommodating the volume of sensory input. He also found ways to specialize, specifically honing in on denim and learning to ignore other fabrics, just so he’d have a little less to process in most situations. Denim was ideal, being common enough that he could procure it from almost any store in an emergency, but a unique fabric that meant he usually only had to deal with others wearing it in jeans, which was moderately common but still usually only one article per person.
He had also developed the deliberate control of fabric that he now used for most his hero work. Again, specialized in the strong, versatile fabric that was denim so he could become even more sensitive to it.
All this to say: Tsunagu considered Hawks and himself to have similar quirks. Birds of a feather, even. So when Hawks approached Tsnuagu after an impromptu team-up at the end of the day with an invitation to drink, Tsunagu could only accept.
It turned out he was not only drinking with Hawks.
“So then I make a clone, and… you know,” Ectoplasm explained.
“Wow, I guess for you, the question ‘Would you fuck your clone’ isn’t really rhetorical is it?” Hawks commented.
“Well what about you, Hawks? Don’t you ever use your quirk to masturbate?”
Everyone was several drinks in, and the conversation had turned much raunchier than Tsunagu anticipated. He didn’t feel very professional or heroic, blushing at the explicit confessions of his pro-heroes while quietly nursing his drink.
“Obviously my feathers are helpful, if my wrists are tired they can usually take over and help me out.”
Or maybe chugging his drink. Did he really need to know how Hawks masturbated?
“You guys are lucky,” Mount Lady groaned, “I can’t imagine how I could use my quirk for that sort of thing.”
“Don’t give up so fast!” Kamui Woods insisted, “Maybe you could use it and then, er… use something much bigger than anyone else could? Like a train? Or press yourself against an idling car?”
“Trains and cars have people on them, dumbass. It’s hard to masturbate in private when you’re too big to even fit in a house!”
“What about you, Kamui?”
“I mean, of course I… I think everyone gets curious about things sometimes,” Kamui spoke sheepishly, “I know for some folks the angle can be a challenge without a partner, but with my wood it’s pretty easy to… you know.”
“Are you saying you use your wood as a dildo?”
“Is that even sanitary?”
Wash stared at his own drink. “It’s like tentacle porn… with wood?”
Tsunagu really didn’t need these sorts of images about his coworkers running through his head. By now, though, the drinks were really kicking in, and he found himself disturbed… but intrigued. He was surprised to discover other pro-heroes used their quirks in some strictly non-heroic ways too.
“Jeanist, you thinking about something?” Hawks drawled while leaning towards him. “Care to share how your quirk can be used?”
Well, everyone else had shared… “My quirk makes me very sensitive to fabric.”
He had never admitted this to anyone before, but after hearing everyone else talk so candidly he felt like he could be truthful.
“So there is literally nothing more erotic than taking a bunch of my denim and…” He took a deep breath. “And putting it through the washing machine.”
Jaws dropped. Across the table, Tsunagu accidentally met Wash’s eyes. The realization he’d confessed this particular habit in front of Wash of all people caused a sudden flush to overtake his face, and he turned away.
“You’re kidding,” Kamui said in disbelief.
Tsunagu shook his head. “I’m really not. If I sit next to or on top of the washing machine while it’s going, I can feel everything. The soak, the rugged spin of the machine, the stinging yet refreshing detergent…”
He shivered at the thought. He didn’t do it often, since a washing cycle could last awhile and he didn’t have that kind of time, but on rare slow Sundays sometimes he’d set it on the longest cycle possible, sit back… and enjoy the sensations.
“I literally can’t tell if you’re messing with us,” Mount Lady said.
He buried his face in the collar of his outfit, so no one could see him blushing.
“Aw, there’s no way he’s joking, look at how embarrassed he is!” Hawks exclaimed.
“Shut up,” He groaned, now starting to feel the shame kick in.
He really shouldn’t have even mentioned it. Or made up something ridiculous about making a denim cocksleeve or something.
“Well it’s better than putting wood up your ass. Again, Kamui, is that even sanitary?”
Kamui sputtered a moment before replying. “I can put a condom on it!”
“But do you?”
Kamui didn’t respond.
The conversation moved on after that, past a few anecdotes and another handful of raunchy topics. Throughout, Tsunagu kept avoiding Wash’s eyes. He was too drunk to deal with the fallout of telling his colleague that he found his washing capabilities potentially very arousing.
But eventually, people stopped ordering drinks, and the bar was starting to clear out. Mount Lady left first, with Kamui following behind to ‘walk her home’ (and likely walk into her bedroom with her, if the rumors were to be believed). By now the pro-heroes were all sobering up, so the rest filed out as well.
Unfortunately, Tsunagu apparently lived in the same direction as Wash.
They walked in an awkward, stilted silence for several minutes. Tsunagu still couldn’t look directly at Wash, remembering the things he confessed earlier that night.
But he wondered… Exactly how much of Wash was washing machine? He knew that his quirk was essentially about creating bubbles and cleaning, but was that suit he wore fully functional? Could he actually wash clothes? Did he have different cycle options?
He glanced at Wash, wondering, and accidentally met his eyes, just barely poking out from under his lid. Forced to confront the fact that Wash was a person, and very much not just a sentient washing machine for Tsunagu to fantasize about.
“Are you okay?” Wash spoke abruptly.
Tsunagu stiffened. His ridiculous obsession had made his colleague worry about him. “I assure you I am quite alright.”
“Because you seem like you’re avoiding me.”
He gulped. This was unbecoming, being so unprofessional towards a fellow hero. By now, Tsunagu was sober enough that he thought he could at least begin to address his earlier faux pas. “I… should apologize to you, Wash.”
“...Why?”
“The things I mentioned at the bar… I did not think about how bringing up a washing machine in such an er… intimate context might make you feel.”
Wash stared at him a moment. “It’s fine.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. Was that really so hard? They were able to discuss this as professionals and as adults. Well, that was the end of that.
Or so he thought.
“To be honest it’s kind of an interesting idea,” Wash told him.
Tsunagu glanced sideways at Wash. It was hard to read his expression, since all you could see were his eyes… But Tsunagu supposed he wasn’t much better, always hiding the lower half of his face.
“I didn’t realize you could feel everything in your fabric. And clothes go through quite a bit in a washing machine, must be a strange sensation.”
Tsunagu held back on specifying once again that it was an arousing sensation. Instead, he swallowed hard and asked, “I suppose you would know wash cycles quite well. Can you… is that one of your capabilities?”
“Are you interested?”
Embarrassment, red-hot, crawled over Tsunagu’s face. “I- I wasn’t trying to suggest anything, I just- You make bubbles, mostly, and I was simply curious about whether you could wash clothing too.” He felt like he was digging himself deeper into a hole. “You don’t have to answer if it’s private, I’m not trying to be a pervert or come onto you or something.”
“That’s a shame.”
He paused. A tiny flicker of hope sparked. “...It is?”
“You’re very flustered by my quirk,” Wash told him with amusement in his voice, “I can’t say that’s ever happened to me before.”
“...Is it that obvious?” Tsunagu muttered.
“You know I’ve never even been ranked on the list of ‘Most Eligible Pro-Hero Bachelors’, despite being both a bachelor and number eight in popularity.”
“...You’re a bachelor?”
“Yes. Are you?”
Tsunagu’s heart started to thump hard at the direction of the conversation. “Yes.”
“Anyways, it’s no secret that a washing machine is generally not very sexy.”
“Not to most people,” He agreed, tactfully not bringing up his own opinion.
“So it’s quite refreshing to see someone who can’t look at my body without turning away in embarrassment.”
Oh no, Tsunagu thought he hadn’t been that obvious about it. “I apologize, again, for my behavior, I assure you I respect you fully, even if I find your body to be…”
Wash waited a moment, then prompted him again, “To be…?”
Tsunagu should just build a little cocoon and bury himself in it forever. He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t have said anything.
“Jeanist, what exactly do you think about me?” Wash’s voice was surprisingly firm.
Tsunagu gulped. “I really shouldn’t say out on the street like this.”
“My apartment is just a few blocks away.”
There was a moment of confusion before Tsunagu parsed the implication. “Are you… inviting me over?”
He removed his shoes as soon as he entered Wash’s apartment. Wash flicked on the lights, revealing a small, though very clean apartment. He saw the counters of the kitchen off in the corner were sparkling so clean you could see a reflection in it. The living area had a similarly flawless couch, looking new with how bright the cushions were. The floor was hardwood, without a single stain or speck of dirt. With Wash’s quirk, he imagined it was easy to keep the apartment clean.
He wondered what it would feel like to have that quirk used on his fabric.
He shivered as he took off his denim jacket. “Thank you for inviting me into your home.”
“No need to be so formal,” Wash assured him, “Go ahead and take a seat. Would you like some water or anything?”
“That’s alright,” Tsunagu told him while settling onto that clean couch.
Wash took a seat next to him. “Your clothes are dirty.”
Tsunagu blinked. Look down at himself, with a denim shirt and pants. “Are they?”
Wash nodded. “Hawks spilled a little bit of his cosmo on your shoulder.”
He looked closely. “Ah, you’re right.” He glanced up at Wash. “...Are you sensitive to dirt?”
“Very,” Wash admitted, “So can I wash your clothes?”
Tsunagu blue screened.
Just the thought of it had his heart thumping, his head going wild. Or rather, his southern head going wild. Though he found the non-sentience of washing machines to be convenient for masturbation, the idea of having one that knew what it was doing made his heart do flips.
...Did Wash realize exactly what he was suggesting?
“You realize that I find having my clothes washed arousing, correct?” Tsunagu checked, “And if you were to wash them, with me in the room, I could- I could feel everything?”
Wash laughed. “I’ve been thinking about that since you talked about it in the bar. So will you, or won’t you?”
He gulped. This was really happening. “If you’re willing… Then yes.”
Most days, Tsunagu would undress by undoing all his threads and reconstructing the articles of clothing off of his body. He was about to do the same.
But Wash’s hand went to his outfit, and suddenly Tsunagu felt the fabric slipping down. Wash wanted to undress him. Surprised, and a little unfamiliar with the sensation, Tsunagu let Wash delicately pull at the clothing, stripping it over his head and even pulling off his pants.
It felt… different from his usual deconstruction method. The feel of someone’s hands on his fabric, holding it delicately but with a firm grip, had him breathing just a little bit faster. He felt like he was being unwrapped, a feeling only intensified when Wash commented, “So that’s what you look like under that collar.”
He swallowed, and saw Wash’s eyes follow the long line of his neck. Luckily Wash didn’t linger too long, and he began to pull down Tsunagu’s pants as well.
When they were stripped, Wash stared. “...Are you seriously wearing denim underwear?”
“It’s comfortable,” Tsunagu muttered.
Wash didn’t seem convinced, and hooked one finger on the waistband of it. “...Can I wash it too?”
Tsunagu felt like he was red all over, exposed both by his near-nudity and from having told Wash about his odd sexual preferences. He could barely fathom that Wash was so willing to indulge him. But if he was offering… “Yes.”
Wash pulled it down, and Tsunagu relished in the brush of the fabric over his legs, down his thighs, past his knees, and out past his feet. He could feel the slight strain of the fabric stretching just a tiny bit on the journey, steadily pulled by Wash’s hand.
Tsunagu was naked now, on Wash’s couch. His cock was already half-hard from anticipation, but Wash was polite enough not to comment. He felt slightly chilly, but suspected that wouldn’t last long. His clothes were bundled up on Wash’s lap, and Wash opened the door to his chest. A round, glass door, like for a front-loading washing machine. He chucked in the articles of clothing, and closed the door over them.
Tsunagu was holding his breath. Wash looked over him carefully. “Are you okay with this?”
“Absolutely.”
With that, there was a a kerchunk sound, and then the sound of water pouring in.
It was a gentle sort of beginning, just slowly letting the water accumulate in the drum of the machine, starting to soak his clothes. Tsunagu felt the fibers gain weight, absorbing the liquid.
“Warm,” Tsunagu commented.
“You think I’d wash you in cold water?” Wash said with a chuckle.
He breathed slowly, enjoying the calm that came over him as the fabric became wet. It was pleasant and relaxing, like some sort of spa.
“You okay with detergent?” Wash asked.
Tsunagu snapped back into focus to nod furiously. A good wash needed some detergent to really lift the stains.
He felt the moment when the detergent splashed into the water. It was odd, almost stinging, but more like a scented exfoliant than anything else. He was already starting feel cleansed from its presence alone.
There was a sudden silence when the water finished pouring. “Are you ready?” Wash asked.
Tsunagu had been through enough machines to know what came next. He took a deep breath. “Yes.”
There was a sudden lurch, fabric jumping at a disturbance. Tsunagu’s body jumped as well, surprised in spite of the warning. He could feel the water sloshing around and through the clothing, detergent slipping through the fibers and lifting particles.
But more overwhelming was the continual spin and spin and spin, being relentlessly tossed about the machine. Sitting next to Wash, he was close enough to feel everything, every piece of clothing as it was thoroughly rotated.
The sensations had his cock perking up, growing fully hard as his brain was inundated with the continual wet slide of fabric against fabric, detergent through fibers, and clothes against the walls of the inner drum of the machine.
“Wow, you’re actually into this,” Wash commented.
Tsunagu looked up at him with a look of consternation. “Do you think I would lie about something as personal as this?”
Wash shrugged, and Tsunagu felt the slight tilt of the drum from his arm movements. It had him taking a sharp breath; his washing machine at home didn’t change angle on him like this.
Wash’s eyes were squarely on him. “Do you have a preferred speed?”
Rather than wait for an answer, Wash just sped up the spin, making Tsunagu gasp. His eyes clenched shut at the sudden sensation… his washing machine at home didn’t generally surprise him with sudden tempo changes either. He wondered if Wash was going to continue speeding up until Tsunagu came all over himself.
More surprisingly, Wash stopped.
Tsunagu opened his eyes slowly, and saw Wash blinking at him. “…Are you alright?”
“Y-you…” Wash’s voice was breathy for some reason, “Did you know you squirm in there?”
“...What?”
Slowly, the drum began spinning again, and Tsunagu swallowed hard. He took in a shuddering breath as the pace picked up again, filling him with wet, warm sensation. He wanted to moan, but held back with the last of his dignity.
There was a sudden slowing of the spin, and Wash moaned. “Fuck, you did it again.”
“Did what?” Tsunagu asked again, confused by this unsteady pace.
At least this time Wash maintained the spin, albeit slower than Tsunagu wanted. “You’ve been controlling the fibers, making it twitch, almost… almost fighting my wash.”
Tsunagu flushed. He never realized; he was always focused on the feeling at home rather than any sort of control, and it’s not like his home machine would be capable of telling him such a thing. “O-oh. My apologies, I’ll try to stop-”
Another speed up made Tsunagu arch his back, and based on Wash’s gasp he must have instinctively tightened some fibers or something. “Don’t stop,” Wash moaned.
The sound of Wash’s arousal had Tsunagu staring. “...Are you into this?”
“Normally my clothes don’t move inside me, no one has touched me so deep inside while I’m washing, it- it’s all so strange.”
Tsunagu felt fabric, not his denim, but other fabric in the room, start to strain. He looked down and saw the crotch of Wash’s pants struggling against some pressure. A good kind of strange, then.
Although it was hard to think under the continual spin, he gathered up enough thought to focus on his denim and pull, trying to purposefully press them against the wall of the machine instead of letting it all slosh where it wanted.
Wash let out a high, keening sound. “Oh fuck!”
The surprise had Wash’s spin stuttering again, and Tsunagu got dizzy from the sudden change. He found his breaths coming in fast, being blind-sided by the changes. “Ah, W-Wash…”
“You feel so good inside me,” Wash spoke wantonly, “Pulling and squirming the way you are, you’re rubbing so sweetly against my walls…”
The dirty talk had Tsunagu flushing. This was not the kind of image the squeaky clean laundry hero should be cultivating. But then again, Tsunagu himself was completely naked on Wash’s couch, moaning at just his clothes being forced through his wash cycle.
So he drowned in the feelings, letting the soapy suds and Wash’s surprisingly dirty words wash over him.
They built their own rhythm, pulling and pushing against each other. Wash’s spins were generally steady, but he'd surprise Tsunagu with a stutter or a sudden tempo change that would make his toes curl. Tsunagu, meanwhile, would occasionally control the fabric inside of Wash, pressing against his walls or sometimes pulling away into a little bundle at the center, making Wash whine at the loss of contact.
It all kept building, a constant throttle that had Tsunagu stiffer than crinoline. He was hotter than the warm water his clothes were soaked in.
Finally, he crested that peak of sensation.
He let out a uncouth, embarrassing noise, something high and broken, as he spilled all over himself and onto Wash’s couch.
He was planning to apologize once he caught his breath, but Wash spoke first: “Holy shit, you… I could feel you fall apart inside of me.”
After seeing Tsunagu’s release, Wash had stopped spinning and wash starting to drain the water. The sound of draining echoed throughout the room as Tsunagu tried to gain his bearings and figure out what Wash was talking about. He focused on the fibers inside, and realized that many of them had separated in reaction to his orgasm. “Oops.”
With the water rapidly draining, and the clothes no longer being sloshed everywhere, Tsunagu had the time to focus and reconnect the fibers as he remembered them, reconstructing his outfit.
“Aaah that was way hotter than it had any right to be,” Wash commented.
Tsunagu was glad Wash at least enjoyed it… though he could still feel the strain in Wash’s pants. He hadn’t come. It would only be polite to return the favor. “If you would like to come, I could suck you off?”
The sound of water draining stopped. Then, a new splash of water entered the drum. “Did you forget the rinse cycle?”
Tsunagu gasped at the new water, still warm. Normally, around this part, Jeanist would walk away from the washing machine, giving himself some time to recover. He wasn’t sure he could take another round. “Wash, I- I already came, I don’t know if I can…”
“Tell me if you have to stop,” Wash told him, “But I’m not done.”
He gulped.
Fuck it.
“Okay.”
By now, the water had finished filling up again. There was an experimental tilt… and then the spin started again.
Although it was a gentler pace than the height of the wash cycle, this time Tsunagu had post-orgasm nerves with heightened sensitivity, which had him twitching and struggling to not leave the room just to escape the sensory inundation.
“Oh just like that,” Wash intoned, apparently Tsunagu’s full-body twitch had transferred to the fabric as well, “I love how you squirm inside me.”
This was a slow kind of fuck, just a steady, warm spin as Wash tried to make sure all the detergent was pulled from the clothes. Still, Tsunagu was becoming a mess at the stimulation.
Fortunately, the spin stopped, and the water started to drain again. Tsunagu found his mind growing clearer at the break. Wash still hadn’t come. “If you want me to suck your dick…”
“Shh,” Wash insisted, “I do more than one rinse cycle.”
Tsunagu wasn’t sure how many washing machines did four rinse cycles, but that’s how many Wash put him through so far. Despite coming earlier, the consistent stimulation, combined with the breaks in between, had his cock rising again. Unfortunately, the spins were never quite enough, doing just enough to stoke his fire, but never bringing him back to that blissful brink.
And it took such time, this had to be longer than any cycles his washing machine at home did. He had to seriously consider that Wash was just teasing him, and would keep him in this aroused purgatory for as long as he could.
Wash was a hero, he ought to have pity, right? “W-Wash…” Tsunagu whined.
They were at the end of the fifth rinse, and the water draining portion was where Tsunagu had enough ability to think that he could start this plan. “Yes?”
“You’re driving me crazy, I don’t think-” Tsunagu paused, and corrected, “I can’t take anymore of this slow fucking, please-!”
“Aww don’t worry,” Wash could have been smirking based on his tone of voice, “That was the last rinse.”
Tsunagu sighed with relief. He was amped up, but he could go home and take care of it. Or even walk it off. Wash had already given him so much today, it didn’t make sense to ask for more.
The water was fully drained, and Tsunagu reached forward to open the washing machine door.
Wash grabbed his wrist.
Tsunagu paused. “...Wash?”
“There’s still the final cycle.”
He held his breath. No way. He didn’t think he could handle any more than this.
Wash pushed his hand down. “After the rinsing is done, it’s important to spin the clothes thoroughly, and make sure as much water as possible has been wrung out. Get ready.”
That was all the warning he got before the spin started.
Each previous cycle had been wet, plenty of water, and a pace anywhere from sedate to brisk. This was different.
For one, there was no longer the water to slosh in. All that was left was what had been absorbed by the clothing, which was being forcibly wrung out via centrifugal force. The denim slammed against the walls of the inner drum, trying to press the water into the outer drum to drain fully. To do so effectively, the spins were fast and harsh.
Tsunagu was gasping, begging openly for relief, at this hard fuck. Tsunagu wasn’t even sure he was speaking intelligible words, just broken iterations of “Please!” and “It’s too much!” and “Ah, ah, ah!”
It was rough, relentless, the fabric being thoroughly abused. Tsunagu was glad for the strength of denim; he would collapse if someone put something delicate like lace through this.
Although the idea of Wash literally tearing him apart…
His cock was throbbing, already ready to burst. He tried to warn Wash, “I- I’m- Ah, I’m close!”
He could barely hear Wash over the sound of the drum spinning. “Mmm, I can feel it from how your fibers are shaking. It’s-” Wash gasped, short and loud, “Fuck, I can feel you-!”
The thought of someone being so intimately aware of him that he could tell how close he was from the movement of his fibers had Tsunagu suddenly overwhelmed in a way that had nothing to do with the sensations he was experiencing.
He came, squeezed dry like what Wash was trying to do with his clothes. Once again hypersensitized, he struggled as Wash continued spinning, making gasping sounds and pulling at the fibers, trying to slow the spin at all to no avail.
Wash groaned. “Fuck fuck that’s good, so good-!”
Tsunagu felt a slight, new wetness in an unfamiliar fabric, and realized Wash had come in his underwear.
His head was spinning as he came down from the high. The clothes were still in the washer, though Wash had mercifully slowed and stopped, letting Tsunagu start to actually recover. The two of them sat like that for a bit, basking in the afterglow.
“Mmm, shit that was good,” Wash spoke slowly.
Tsunagu nodded his agreement. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been wrecked so thoroughly.
He almost jumped, though, when he felt Wash’s hand on him. It was brushing over his stomach. “Let me take care of that,” He told Tsunagu.
With bubbles, he rubbed over Tsunagu’s stomach, then the fabric of the couch between his legs, cleaning up all the spilled cum. “Thank you,” Tsunagu told him.
“No problem, it’s my expertise,” Wash told him.
Tsunagu noted Wash’s other hand was over his own pants, likely soaking and cleaning out the new stain there.
Once he was done, he opened the door on his stomach, presenting Tsunagu’s clothes to him. “Go ahead, take them out.”
Although he could have just pulled the fibers to himself, Tsunagu took the opportunity to put his hands inside of Wash’s inner drum. He wondered how many people had been allowed in there before. How many people had felt the walls twitch when their hands brushed against the metallic structure inside?
His clothes were still wet, even after being wrung out by that vicious final cycle. Once he had gathered it all up, he realized a fundamental problem with getting home. “...You don’t happen to have drying powers too, do you?”
Wash chuckled. “I have a dryer?”
“Could I perhaps… take a little bit more of your time and borrow it? I can’t exactly go home like this…”
“How about this? We put your clothes in the dryer, go to bed, and handle it in the morning.”
Tsunagu’s eyes widened.
“You’d let me stay over?”
Wash chuckled. “I’d let you stay over any night if you’ll do that with me again.”
Tsunagu could feel himself blush. “...Perhaps I will.”