Chapter Text
Katsuki is exhausted. He’s had a long fucking day. Fighting not two, not three, but five tough villains, for starters. One per day is passable excitement. Two, unusual but thrilling. After three, though, it just chips at the psyche.
He uses the keycard to unlock his apartment door and shoves his way inside. No point announcing he’s home, considering there’s no one waiting.
He’s fine with that.
Kicking off his shoes, he hangs his jacket and sets down his back. Takes a moment to tidy everything up. Then trudges into the living room and collapses face-first to the cushions.
Yeah, sure, he could make it to bed. But that’s when he was standing. Now he’s face-down and too fucking exhausted to give a shit about where he captures some sleep.
His phone vibrates. Ugh. He fumbles it out of his pocket and squints. Grumbles.
“The fuck, Deku…”
Not work, at least, or he'd be hearing from them. Still, the nerd attracts trouble like lichen and algae; it's never clear who starts it, but the end result is the same.
Katsuki opens the message. It's not a message, more of a picture and it's… well, Katsuki's too tired to very well judge if it's a waste of his time or not. It's a selfie of Deku with some gross amalgamation of fries, gravy, and chunky shit sprinkled on top.
He fires off a text. What the actual FUCK are you eating?
The reply is so fast that he almost suspects Deku uses OFA to reply. It's poutine! French fries and cheese curds and gravy!
Katsuki feels his eyebrow twitch. Whatever. Kill yourself with junk for all I care.
His phone vibrates again.
It's only this one time, I'll be fine! Okay, technically the second, but it was so good the first time I forgot to even show you!
Katsuki growls and rolls onto his back. Types a response. I don't care about stupid shit! Just got off work. I'm beat. Bother someone else and fuck off in Canada.
He isn’t waiting for a response. Absolutely not.
He gets one.
Oh, sorry. I’ll show you something cool then, one sec!
Fucking hell. Katsuki is about to type that he isn’t asking for anything, but an image pushes through before he can complete the message.
It’s… admittedly refreshing. Deku caught a somewhat decent image of an aurora borealis in the night sky, apparently from his hotel window judging by the angle. Katsuki takes a moment to zoom in (fuck, Izuku’s phone camera is garbage and clearly isn’t doing the sight proper justice) and adjusts the picture a few times. Begins to mess with the saturation to see if he can improve it and—wait.
What
the fuck
is in the corner of the picture?
He zooms in more. It’s not an entire image but… yeah. No doubt about it.
That’s a fucking dildo.
Katsuki sits straight up. Types rapidly.
Go take a picture of your hotel window and put your hand on it.
The reply takes an understandably long time despite its brevity. Why?
Katsuki realizes he’s palming at his crotch. Shit.
Okay. This is fine. He’s just asking one dumb favor and it won’t matter in the long run. Just one favor and he’ll tell Deku to fuck off and go save some Canadian civilians or whatever the fuck he’s doing interning over there.
Because I’m curious about the stupid view, asshole!
There. That’s believable enough. He thinks.
But maybe not, because Deku doesn’t reply right away. Or in the next ten minutes. Katsuki’s getting annoyed and tired, which isn’t helped by the fucking hard-on he’s got wondering about that stupid dildo.
Because that has to be the reason. Nothing about the nerd gets him off when he's alone and horny. Nope. Not at all. Not those thick thighs in motion when the news goes over Weekly Top Ten Hero Win Moments or that scarred hand in a victory fist making Katsuki wonder what it's like to be the lucky bastard jerked off by it or most certainly not the bead of sweat that tends to trickle down that freckled jaw line when he's especially exerting himself.
Katsuki is not in lo—attracted to Deku. He's just inexplicably horny because he saw what he's judging to be a pretty fucking thick dildo and yeah that is up his alley, thank you very fucking much, piss off.
His phone vibrates against his thigh. Shuddering, he rapidly opens the next message. No text, again. Just an obliging photo of Izuku’s palm on the glass of his window. It’s not quite the right angle—or maybe the nerd moved the damn dildo, who knows—but Katsuki can compare the two images, Izuku’s hand, the measurements between panes and… yeah.
That’s a pretty fucking thick dildo the nerd owns.
Then he has the wild, annoying, infuriating thought of, Unless it’s not his.
No way. The shitnerd won’t take some random lover in Canada. He said so himself; he’ll be back in Musutafu in two weeks. The internship’s almost over after eighteen long ass months.
Katsuki is even more annoyed at how hard he is, despite these stupid thoughts. He sets the phone down and palms his clothed dick again. Shit. This isn’t going away unless he rubs one out, huh?
Not that it has anything to do with Deku.
Katsuki unfastens his pants and shoves them down, along with his boxer briefs, just low enough to pull his dick out and give an experimental tug. Alone, an unfiltered groan escapes him. He presses his head against the armrest of the couch and shifts into a more comfortable position. Licks his palm, then tugs his cock again.
Yeah. That’s providing relief. One jack-off session and then he can sleep. Any dude can relate to that.
As he rolls his palm over the head of his swollen dick, however, his mind wanders beyond just the pleasure. To that stupid fucking dildo. Can Deku actually fit it inside his ass? Katsuki is reasonably certain the guy doesn’t discriminate who he’s attracted to (not after attempted-yet-amicably-split relationships with Round Face and then Four-Eyes, the two of whom immediately dated and got engaged after, the fucking weirdos), so it also stands to reason that, yeah, Deku might enjoy taking it up the ass, and if he does, that dildo probably helps when he’s horny, and fuck, that just leads to wondering how much lube the nerd needs to be able to handle something that thick and—
“Shit,” he mutters, clenching his eyes as a wave of desire crests over him.
Yeah. Okay. Fine. He’s jerking off to Deku. Not his fucking fault the nerd showed off proof that he’s great at taking it up the ass.
Katsuki’s breath shortens as his strokes grow more desperate. He has to spit on his hand to get more glide, and then it’s just even better. Had he the patience, he’d just go to his room and get his own damn lube, but this feels too good and he’s thinking about Deku’s scarred hand and how it’d feel on his cock right now, and how the nerd must look before using those powerful legs to sink onto a thick dick and fuck.
“Shitty nerd,” he growls, arching into his own hand. His hips begin to piston like he’s fucking into a tight, sloppy wet hole. “How the fuck… do you take it… shit.”
It’s still not quite enough. His phone vibrates again, this time against his stomach, and he irately knocks it to the carpet before rubbing a thumb over his leaking slit. Panting. Beginning to sweat.
“Fuck,” he gasps. Who cares how loud he is. It’s his apartment, and the walls are reasonably sound-proofed if the upstairs neighbors who are way too open about their BDSM activities barely make a sound. “Fucking shit, Deku, should be taking my cock right now, I’ll wreck that tight little ass of yours.”
He’s talking to no one, yet he can practically hear the nerd’s breathless, reedy moans in response. It only heightens his own sensitivity as he imagines Deku riding him, hands on Katsuki’s thighs, nails pinching him, chest heaving as his head is thrown back in sheer ecstasy, his throat exposed and sweat dripping down his sides…
“Deku.”
Katsuki comes into his hand with a strangled gasp. He chases the high to completion, writhing on the couch, uncaring where the streams of cum land. Just fucking his own fist until it starts to ache and soften, and then he just collapses to the couch, boneless and satisfied.
He should clean up. Check his phone.
But he’s sleepy and content, so he just wipes his hand on his pants, tosses them aside to deal with in the morning, and passes out half-naked on the couch.