Chapter Text
Becoming a pro hero comes with some weird-ass fan elements that Katsuki is not prepared for.
Which is strange, thinking about it. He grew up with Izuku lurking in his shadows, of all people. The biggest hero dork on the planet. The same guy who is so obsessed with All Might that he, even now at the age of nineteen, spends his spare change on All Might merch. Katsuki visited the nerd’s apartment once (because Kirishima dragged him, shut up) for a small get-together, and the sheer amount of All Might staring at him from every corner of the living room sent so many chills down his spine that he had to stare at the floor for most of the evening just to get through it.
Point is, Katsuki is used to nerds. Used to the weird shit nerds do, especially when it comes to pro heroes. Used to the weird fanaticism and hopeful worship and starry eyes and memorization of stats and waist lines (for some reason, that’s Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight’s most memorized detail, the fuck). So by proxy, a lifetime of Izuku’s dumbassery should’ve prepared him for the weirder side of pro hero fans.
As it turns out, Izuku is apparently one of the lesser weirdos.
✧✧✧
“What,” deadpans Katsuki, all while his left eyebrow twitches out of his control, “the fuck is that?”
Kaminari jumps guiltily on the bright red couch. He scrambles up with a laugh, tucking something behind his back. “B-Bakugo! Hey, you’re back early!”
“No I ain’t, my shift ended an hour ago,” grumps Katsuki as he drops grocery bags onto the counter.
Kaminari blinked and glanced at the oven clock. “Oh… wow, it’s that late already, huh?”
Katsuki stalks toward him, taking note of the sweat dotting Kaminari’s forehead. He feels his mouth twist in a savage grin. “Whatcha hiding, Dunce Face?”
“C-c’mon, Bakugo, let’s not—gah! ” Kaminari, dumbass that he is, trips over the coffee table and goes sprawling. The thing in his hand gets crushed underneath him with a distinctive, papery crumple. “Oh, crap!”
They may be roommates, but Katsuki doesn’t exactly grant the same personal space that he demands. Within seconds, he’s on his friend, wrestling him easily to the side and snatching up the stupid thing he’d been holding.
A comic book—but not exactly. No, this is doujinshi, fan-made, self-published work that the masses tend to eat up like candy. Katsuki nimbly leaps over the couch when Kaminari shrieks and tries to grab it back, then plants his foot on the dumbass’s face when he attempts to lunge at Katsuki. In the meantime, he flips through the doujinshi, feeling a sneer pull his lips.
It’s pro hero doujinshi, of course. And Kaminari, the fucker that he is, seems balls-deep in one featuring Chargebolt and Earphone Jack. And it’s pretty fuckin’ dirty.
Snorting, Katsuki tosses it back at the guy he can’t believe he deigns to call his friend. “You ass. What would Ears think of this crap?”
Kaminari huffs and tries to smooth out the wrinkled pages. “Believe it or not, she’s into this stuff, too.” His chest puffs with pride, eyes going moony over his girlfriend. “She says as long as what I keep around is good artwork and there’s no non-con—not that I would!” He gives Katsuki a half-hearted glare, to which Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Anyway, she says as long as the art and stories are good, she’s totally fine with it.”
“Yeah,” says Katsuki in a rough monotone. “Porn makes for great storylines.”
Sticking out his tongue, Kaminari resumes his place on the couch, opening the doujinshi back up. “Sometimes, yes, it does, actually.”
“Yeah?” repeats Katsuki in a slightly different tone, now mocking. “I’m sure there’re others pairing you two off with other heroes. That doesn’t creep you out?”
Sheepishly, Kaminari scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, sometimes, yeah. But it’s flattering that fans love us so much that they like drawing us, right? And making up stories? It’s like a show of love.”
Shaking his head, Katsuki plods back toward the kitchen. “Gross.”
“One day you’ll fall in love, Kacchan of the Bakugos,” teases Kaminari. “Then you’ll get it.”
“Fuckin’ gag me with one of your gross doujinshi before that ever happens,” retorts Katsuki. He begins putting the groceries away and dutifully ignores anything Dunce Face has to say after that.
Like hell he’s admitting it’s already happened.
✧ THE DOOR TO HELL IS THUS UNLOCKED ✧
Amateur pro heroes (what a fucking oxymoron) don’t make a lot of cash. Some, like Katsuki, cope by having a roommate and putting in as much overtime as possible. Some, like Jirou, take on side gigs with their hobbies to pull in a little extra. And some, like Izuku, keep their methods so secret that it’s both annoying and boring. (Probably takes part in some sort of online hero quiz competition or something, the damn nerd.)
Either way, Katsuki is fine putting up with Dunce Face’s weird-ass eccentricities if it means affordable housing and groceries, even if he was Katsuki’s third choice. Kirishima had been his second choice, but he and Ashido had been dating since mid-second year of high school and immediately moved in together like the saps they are. And his first choice… well.
Never mind about that.
Point is, Katsuki appreciates being able to build up savings. He indulges like anyone else, of course, but he’s also smart enough not to blow his money on merch (like some people ) until his pay rises and he can afford his own damn place (since someone doesn’t want to live with him, the assho—).
Normally, his indulgences would be eating somewhere new and rated well, or splurging on particularly good cookware, or even clothes, because believe it or not, you can’t be raised by parents in the fashion industry without having an appreciation for how you look somehow. You know, normal shit that non-heebs (hero weebs) worry about.
So, yeah, he’s a little pissed to find himself standing outside of a store that primarily sells fucking doujinshi. Yes, he soaked his hair in so much gel that even Best Jeanist would be proud of how flat it lies. Yes, he’s wearing a cold mask to cover his face. And yes, he will keep his sunglasses on indoors, because he ain’t about to out himself as a fucking weirdo. Because he’s not. A weirdo. He’s not.
What he is, is curious about what creepy-ass fans are drawing about him. This is just to sate that curiosity one time, nothing more.
Of course, he didn’t expect to find that the vast majority of Dynamight-related doujinshi would be firmly plastic-wrapped.
Shit. Fuck. What the hell, does he have to actually buy this shit to look inside?
Katsuki pointedly ignores others around him, ensuring his scarf covers his neck well (he’s not paranoid, just careful) as he flips through the various titles (he’s wearing gloves, thank you very much, it’s cold outside and he arrived with the impression that some of these might’ve been used in some gross ways). It takes him a moment to realize that they’re not sorted by genre so much as who he’s shipped with, and that’s… one hell of a disturbing thought.
Little marked tabs poking between the doujinshi in bins narrows down the “ships.” DynaRiot. Ew. DynaRavity. The fuck? DynaPhantom. WHY?
DynaDeku.
A weird fiery sensation that is not quirk-related scalds his fingers under the gloves. Once more, Katsuki’s glad for his foresight in covering his face, because he would one hundred percent have to murder everyone within a fifty-foot radius if they saw him lick his lips.
Not over DynaDeku! He just… forgot to eat. Is all.
Shut up.
Katsuki begins thumbing through the titles available, and what he sees is… well. Both what he expected and nauseating. A shit ton of amateur art, some better than others. A disturbing amount of tentacles and slime monsters on the covers. A lot of him as a… a cat person?
Fans are fucking weirdos.
One title has a bit fat R18 stamp in the top right corner, and portrays Dynamight in full uniform with a censor bar over his dick plunging into a mostly nude, uncomfortably feminized version of Deku wearing only his mask and… a lot of drool.
He’s about to throw his hands up and call himself a moron when a particular art style grabs his attention. He pulls it from the bin. There’s another R18 stamp, but the cover doesn’t quite look that way. Instead, it has a broad cityscape at night. A large red moon takes over most of the upper half of the cover, obscured somewhat by skyscrapers. Dynamight is cast in shadow, standing atop one of the buildings with his back to the reader, hands clenched. It’s quite a bit more traditional comic style, and that admittedly piques his curiosity. The title reads Once in a Blood Moon, and the artist simply goes by the pseudonym LaibuX.
Katsuki reluctantly tucks it under his arm. Fine. Whatever. At least he can say he’s supporting one of the artists.
He finds another by the same pseudonym, this one featuring Dynamight’s profile, his eyes hard and full of determination and blood trickling down the side of his face. From the Time Before. Also with an adult rating.
He then wonders, How popular is Deku?
Fortunately, due to their spellings, it’s easy to just shuffle to the left a bit and find Deku’s section. An amused huff escapes Katsuki as he can’t help but note that Deku’s selection, while impressive, still isn’t as broad as Dynamight’s. Eat that, nerd.
And ugh, the pairings are almost equally disturbing. DekuBolt. Ugh, dumbass on dumbass, lovely. DekuJuice. Vomit. DekuShou. That’s unsettling and makes Katsuki’s chest pinch in an odd way.
DekuDyna.
Huh.
Katsuki flips through some of those as well, and immediately picks up on the difference. Deku is meant to be the top in these, whether they’re dirty or not. Which is a fascinating (read: annoying) way of perceiving them. A lot of them have switched the stylizations so Dynamight is the one looking rather feminine, and that pisses him off.
Then he sees a familiar art style. LaibuX again. Hmmm.
Between You and Us. A cover with Deku removing the face shield of his mask, looking up and to the side as though in awe, no adult warning. Aftermath, a cover of Deku’s gloves reaching behind Dynamight’s head as though to cradle him. The art’s not half bad.
BITE ME! That one almost makes Katsuki choke. This cover, although by the same artist, leaves no doubt as to what it’s about. There’s a bright red R18 stamp used as a censor over Dynamight’s genitalia, and it’s… this fucker… He’s bent over, ropes corded around his wrists, fucking clamps on his nipples, sweating and looking up with his mouth half-open, eyes flooded with a mixture of desire and fury, and covered in bite marks.
What the fuck.
Katsuki can’t decide if he’s intrigued or pissed. No, wait. It’s both. He’s pisstrigued. God damn it.
He ends up leaving with just the one he grabbed, though the other covers haunt him. Whatever. He’ll read this one, get it out of his system, then blow it up. Done. End. Of. Fucking. Story.
✧✧✧
Katsuki fucking hates his roommate more than ever now.
To be fair, Kaminari isn’t aware of this. He’s blissfully alive, wallowing in his own ignorance, while Katsuki paces the few steps possible in his own room, alternating between cursing softly and trying not to pull his hair out.
He read it. Okay. He read Once in a Blue Moon.
He read it the same night he bought it, four days ago.
And he’s read it sixteen times since then.
What the hell. What in the absolute fiery Christians-who-hate-their-queer-kids hell.
The problem isn’t that it’s cringe. The problem is that it’s good. It has a tight, concise story about Dynamight and Deku as pro heroes on a mission where someone’s powerful quirk lasts throughout a blood moon. It was tense, it had action, and it was drawn not too badly, proportionate and everything. Hell, they were both drawn damn close to their actual physiques!
But that’s not what lives rent-free in Katsuki’s head. No. It’s not the story.
It’s the sex scene.
Six pages out of eighty, and Katsuki’s stared at them more than his own fucking reflection in the mirror.
In six pages, Deku professed heartfelt emotion toward Dynamight, and all the tension from their battle exploded. Costumes sliding off, obscenely hot making out, and then Dynamight fucking Deku over the railing of a high-rise while the blood moon was beginning to vanish into the horizon. Four pages of just Dynamight’s cock plunging into Deku’s ass. Of lewd shots, of Deku’s dick bobbing and those fucking-ass censor bars concealing too much despite it being the bare minimum; of Deku goading Dynamight to fuck him harder; of Dynamight rising to the goddamn challenge because of course he would, and of them collapsing into each other while Dynamight snarls, “I’ve owned you since always, damn Deku,” before Deku huffs a weak laugh and the story fades to an ending.
Fuck.
Fuuuuuck.
Why the fuck are censor bars still a thing?!
Katsuki whirls to glower at the doujinshi, lying face-up and neatly repackaged on his bed. He stomps over and picks it up, snarling, “I fuckin’ hate you, LaibuX,” and carefully stows it in the bottom back of his sock drawer.
✧✧✧
He abso-fucking-lutely does not return to the store the next day to buy one of every goddamn copy of LaibuX’s DynaDekuDyna work.
✧✧✧
Put simply, Katsuki is fucked. No, actually, in this doujinshi, he is fucked. As in Deku fucks Dynamight.
And it’s hot.
He hasn’t been able to bring himself to unwrap BITE ME!, considering it’s the only one that seems to be pure porn. Katsuki has, however, been poring obsessively over the one titled Between You and Us.
It’s a romance, which is… so incredibly stupid, since they appear to always live in their hero costumes in this artist’s world. Dynamight's eye mask is even on when he sleeps, which is so fucking gross. Deku’s stupid bunny-eared mask never comes off, just the goddamn face shield. Yet somehow, in this one, Deku screws up the courage to ask Dynamight on a date, to which Dynamight grudgingly agrees. They go to a fucking amusement park and share a crepe (that Dynamight bitches about being too sweet even though he eats half of it anyway), and at one point on a ferris wheel, they fucking hold hands. It’s disgustingly cute as fuck.
And then they, of course, just fuck.
Or rather, Deku fucks Dynamight.
Katsuki doesn’t even know how to feel about this one. Dynamite puts up a half-hearted fight through most of it, yet it manages to come across almost cute. And when Deku slowly preps and fucks him, Dynamight seems lost to it all. It ends with a sweet kiss and cuddling.
It’s gross and stupid and Katsuki can’t stop reading it.
He also can’t stop being infuriated by those censor bars. They’re just… ugh. How the fuck is someone supposed to get lost in the moment when those black bars make their appearance? His asshole doesn’t come with a pointed black censor bar, so why the fuck is it portrayed like that? (He knows it’s censorship laws. The point is that it’s stupid.)
For one, how the hell is he supposed to judge LaibuX on accuracy when particular details are covered up? Does this fucker know how to draw an asshole? How accurate is the veiny underside of Dynamight’s dick? How can he judge the orgasm scenes when there’s a fucking stripe over the dickhole?
It’s pissing him off, and it’s pissing him off that he’s getting pissed off over it.
Also, fuck you, he’s not a bottom!
That’s why he very much does not jerk off to that scene. Does. Not. Okay? He just… sort of gets distracted by his dick getting hard. Completely coincidental. Anyone who says otherwise is gonna die.
✧✧✧
“Oi, Deku.”
“Yes, Ka—er, Dynamight?”
They happen to be patrolling the same area today. Katsuki’s been eyeing Deku on and off. Not because he’s obsessed with the nerd or anything, but because he keeps noticing how LaibuX got the details of Deku’s costume down pat. Like the new bracers on his gloves that were added two months ago. They made an appearance in Aftermath.
Katsuki huffs and cranes his head, keeping an ear out for any signs of villainy. So far, it’s just a regular day with regular citizens going about their regular lives.
“Dynamight?” asks Izuku. He lowers his face mask and peers closer at Katsuki. Beneath the mask, Katsuki can barely make out his eyebrows stitching in concern. “Are you okay? You seen off today.”
Katsuki scowls and shoves him back by the forehead, earning a startled yip! “M’fine, nerd. Just curious why your dumbass never got into pro hero doujinshi.”
Izuku makes a choked sound and quickly replaces his mask. “I… uh… what?”
“Doujinshi,” snaps Katsuki. “You know, those fuckin’ fan comics or whatever.”
“N-no, Kacchan, I know what doujinshi is.”
“Hero name, asshole.”
“Right, sorry.” Izuku turns his head. “Uh… can I ask what brought this on?”
In a low grumble, Katsuki admits, “Caught Dunce Face reading some stupid EarBolt bullshit the other day. Made me realize you never sunk that low.”
Not that he’s one to talk now. Ugh.
A weird, punted sound escapes Izuku beneath the face shield. He glances over at Katsuki and finally says, “I mean… fans show their appreciation in different ways, Ka—erm, Dynamight. No matter which way that is, I think it’s great. Especially if they’re doing something they love in the process.”
“And you don’t feel violated by it?” demands Katsuki. “Knowing they draw you fucking other people and shit?”
Izuku’s eyes widen. “I… no. No, I think it’s just… just another way of showing how much they appreciate us. And it’s way better than paparazzi.”
Well, shit. He has a point there.
“Do… do you?” When Katsuki gives him a bemused look, Izuku clarifies. “Do you feel violated knowing people draw you, um, doing stuff with other heroes?”
Huh. Does he?
After giving in some thought, Katsuki finally scoffs and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Nah. Let the extras be, I guess.”
He doesn’t miss the relieved sigh that Izuku lets out. He also doesn’t think much of it. Nerd’s always been pretty protective of other weirdos.
✧✧✧
It takes another month for Katsuki to screw up the wherewithal to take BITE ME! out of its protective plastic.
This feels like a weirdly big step. A dangerous one. Like if he reads this, he’ll turn into one of those gross nerd fanboys who have shrines to their favorite “ship” hidden in their closets and make out with Deku pillows.
Not that he would. Ew.
Point being, Katsuki is on edge. This purchase is the worst yet. He can’t even excuse it as a good story. It’s porn.
Just. Porn.
With Deku topping.
Katsuki looses a slow, even breath. Double checks that his bedroom door is locked. Sits on his bed so his back is flush with the wall, one knee bent.
He opens the doujinshi.
The first panel shows Dynamight from the back, nude but for his boots and head gear. He’s covered with sweat, arms tied and wrists at level with his tailbone, his ass barely hidden in shadow. Then a heavy boot comes into view—Deku’s.
“Dynamight,” purrs Deku into Dynamight’s ear, causing shivers. “You’ve been so, so patient. What a good boy.”
Dynamight bites out, “Fuck you.” Sweat drips down his throat, over his clavicle.
“No,” says Deku as he slides his gloved hands down Dynamight’s waist. “I’m fucking you tonight.”
Those gloves reach forward, one trailing along Dynamight’s rigid, censored cock. Then Deku grasps it, stroking.
“You’re so hard for me,” muses Deku.
Dynamight’s head is thrown back, resting on Deku’s shoulder. Panting. Gasping out, “De… ku… you asshole…”
“Be a good boy,” says Deku, looking so wicked yet so sweet as he peels his other glove off with his teeth. Then, as if by magic, his fingers are covered in lube and prodding into Dynamight’s censored asshole. “Just get nice and loose for me.”
Dynamight is falling apart. Panting, flushed, sweating. Moaning wordlessly, just, “Ah, ah, ah,” over the next three panels while Deku fingerfucks him.
“You’re so hot,” says Deku. “Mm, this is the great hero Dynamight? All loose and begging for cock?”
Dynamight gnashes his teeth, but then falls apart in the next panel as Deku finds his prostate and begins to torment him. Over and over, crooning variations of “good boy,” until Dynamight comes.
“Hey,” says Deku as he continues to finger him through the orgasm, bringing Dynamight to tears. “Ever hear of multiple orgasms?”
“Fu—”
Two pages of Dynamight falling to orgasm after orgasm follows. So much fluid it’s not even realistic, yet the flow shows Dynamight just writhing with each one.
“Bite me,” he suddenly yells. “Fuck you, Deku, just do it! You promised!”
“I did, baby, I did,” says Deku. He then sinks his teeth into Dynamight’s shoulder, and he comes again.
Katsuki slams the doujinshi closed, wide-eyed. Breathing oddly. Fucking hell. No way. That’s… that’s ridiculous. That many orgasms, he’d be dead. Dehydrated at best. What the fuck…
Hey, his cock seems to say, stirring against the loose confines of his sweatpants, pay attention to me.
Katsuki thunks his head against the wall and groans. Reaches into his pants and begins to stroke himself, all while grumbling, “Fuck you, LaibuX.”
✧✧✧
Being assigned to the same patrol unit as Izuku is starting to get… awkward.
It’s not that Katsuki’s popping boners left and right. Duh. He has a cup. Not having one would be stupid in their line of work, and it just so happens to help in situations where he catches a glimpse of Deku’s ass in midair and Katsuki’s stupid dick decides it’s time to wake up from it’s last post-orgasm nap.
No, what’s awkward is realizing just how much Izuku watches him.
On the one hand, it’s nothing new, exactly. Izuku always watches him. Hell, Katsuki even yells an occasional, “Watch me, Deku!” so it makes sense for Izuku to watch him.
On the other hand, sometimes they’re just taking a break on the rooftop of a highrise and Izuku just watches him. With those wide damn green eyes that sparkle in sunlight, with that stupid round face cocked to the side, with his mouth slightly pursed as though he’s solving a riddle in his head. Katsuki never fully realized how often Izuku looks at him.
It’s… not bad, exactly? It doesn’t make him uncomfortable. It’s just Izuku.
But it is… awkward. Lately. Because now that Katsuki’s noticing, his mind is overlaying a sly grin on those scrunched lips and narrowed, lust-filled eyes over those glittering, curious orbs.
“What?” he snaps, visibly startling Izuku. “Something on my face?”
“Oh, nope! Nuh uh.” Izuku laughs and turns his head. “Sorry, Kacchan. Just got lost in thought.”
Now Katsuki is the one watching him. Because if there’s one thing Izuku doesn’t do nearly as much these days, it’s get lost in thought. No, the damn nerd has managed to turn a lot of his creepy habits into useful tools, and his brain plows through complex problems like a fucking bullet train.
Scoffing, Katsuki climbs to his feet and pulls his mask back down over his eyes. “Whatever, nerd. Don’t get lost on patrol.”
Izuku’s genuine laugh gives him chills.
And his dick kinda fucking likes it.
✧ THE DOOR TO HELL HAS A LOT OF OTHER FUCKING DOORS ✧
Here’s the thing: Katsuki’s masturbation habits have always been pretty fucking basic. Hand, meet cock. Stroke stroke, ugh, now it’s a mess, clean up, go to sleep. Done.
He’s not one to go visit a goddamn sex toy shop. Just like he used to not be one to walk into a fucking doujinshi store and buy out all of LaibuX’s work.
Fuck his life up and down and sideways.
Once again, Katsuki used an entire six ounce container of Best Jeanist Style Gel to flatten his hair, donned a cold mask, and stuck a pair of sunglasses over his face. This time, he’s also pulled a beanie over the hair, just in case it decides to pop out of its liquid cement (it’s happened before). Outside is starting to warm into spring, so rather than a scarf, he’s wearing a shirt with a full cowl under a thick jean jacket. So, yeah, he’s sweating a bit, but who cares. He’s used to it.
He enters the shop with more swagger than confidence, not that extras can generally tell the difference. A few people mill about, mostly men. Katsuki makes his way toward the far back corner where the Wall o’ Dildos proudly boasts cocks of all shapes, colors, and even species. (Why? Ugh, whatever.) He’s on a mission, god damn it.
LaibuX’s art seems obscenely close to home for his own body, so he figures this weirdo may have a decent grasp on Izu—Deku’s as well. Not that Katsuki is thirsting after Izu—DEKU or anything, but the panels of him taking a girthy dick up the ass have… well… intrigued him.
So he quickly plucks a thick-ass dildo off the wall and marches up to the front counter. The woman attending it smiles behind her mask and says, “Ready to check out, sir?”
Katsuki nods.
“Great. If I may… oh, good choice!” He flinches when the cashier gushes, holding the plastic container up high for the entire fucking universe to see. Jesus fuck, they can probably see it from Mars from the way she’s waving the damn thing around! “You must be quite practiced!”
Katsuki grinds his teeth and glowers at her. Not that she can tell behind the sunglasses, probably.
The cashier hesitates, lowering the dildo. “This… is just an addition to a collection, isn’t it, sir?”
God damn it, he is not speaking. Katsuki shakes his head.
“Er… first purchase, sir?”
He nods aggressively.
The cashier winces. “Ah… I’m required by company policy to recommend that you start… smaller?”
Excuse her?
She continues on, oblivious to his radiating anger. “It’s just that with dildo accidents being at an all-time high the past three years, what with anal fissuring and tearing—”
“God, will you SHUT UP and just ring me out?” yells Katsuki. Faintly, a bell tinkles. “I didn’t ask for your fuckin’ advice, I just—”
“Kacchan?”
Fuck
his
entire
ass…
… life.
Katsuki damn near explodapults himself out of the shop. He knows from experience, however, that pretending not to exist to Izuku is only going to bite him in the ass thrice as hard later.
Instead, he mutters, “The fuck’re you here for, nerd?”
Izuku isn’t even bothering to hide himself, the fuck. He walks up sheepishly, pink in the cheeks but otherwise looking happy as a fucking seal on crack. “I mean… same reason you are, I guess?”
Katsuki’s face is on fire.
“W-welcome,” says the cashier nervously to Izuku.
Izuku beams at her, some of the pink fading. “Thanks!” Then he says, “Hey, Kacchan, can I talk to you over here for a minute?”
Ugh. Not like he has much of a choice if he wants to keep any shred of dignity intact.
Katsuki skulks after him. It’s not long before they’re back in front of the Wall o’ Dildos, and Katsuki just wants to slip between the floorboards and die already.
“What do you want?” he hisses behind his mask.
Izuku jumps guiltily, though he doesn’t stop perusing the colorful cocks. “S-sorry! It’s just, um, from the context… and I agree with her, for your first time, something that big is… er…” His ears flush red, and then he scampers to the side. Plucks a black box from the shelf, and shoves it into Katsuki’s hands. “Here! And, um… this.” He grabs a bottle and forces that into Katsuki’s grip as well.
Katsuki is… well. Flabbergasted is an understatement.
As the silence stretches thinly, Izuku scratches the back of his head. His eyes go everywhere but on Katsuki. “I know you don’t like getting help, but, um… I personally really liked this starter kit? A-and, uh, that l-lube is, erm, really good with that material, and the glide is super nice, and, I just, um, er…”
Something about Izuku being so stammery and nervous helps to even Katsuki out a little. He lets out a slow, careful breath. Yeah. Okay. This isn’t weird. (It is.) It’s not. They’re adult men, they have needs, and Izuku is being his damn usual self and doesn’t want to see one of his friends end up in the hospital. Just for… very different reasons, this time.
This is… manageable. Maybe.
Gruffly, Katsuki mutters, “Thanks. I guess.”
“Oh! You’re welcome!” Izuku grins, and then turns suddenly. “A-anyway, um, good seeing you, Kacchan, see you at work!”
“What’re you getting?” asks Katsuki before he realizes he opens his mouth. Shit.
Izuku freezes. “Um, ah…” He ducks his head, scratching under his ear. “That is… just… a d-dildo. I guess. Erm. Because the one I have… kinda… broke.”
Katsuki’s brain cycles through about a billion scenarios before shutting down. It takes a good minute for it to start back up again, and by then, he’s lost most of his vocabulary.
“Oh. Cool.”
Izuku blinks, startled, then rubs the back of his reddening neck. “Um. Yeah.”
They stand in mute mortification for another few moments.
“Uh… see ya,” Katsuki finally says.
“Yeah. Um. Yes. Sure. See you, Kacchan.”
This time, at least, the cashier makes sure to keep her fucking mouth shut as she rings him up.
✧✧✧
The night is silent.
Katsuki is contemplative.
The First Time Anal Enthusiast’s Starter Kit!!! is taunting him from the other end of the bed.
In the room directly next to his, Kaminari is loudly and enthusiastically enjoying his own pegging session with his girlfriend. (Yeah, Katsuki’s been victim to these sounds more than once. And no, he doesn’t complain anymore. Earplugs are a godsend.)
Tonight, he’s not even bothered. Because if he does this, there’s a decent chance Kaminari and Jirou’s noises will cover up anything potentially embarrassing he might let out.
Katsuki heaves a sigh and rubs his hands over his face. Really? All over a fucking doujinshi?
Yeah. Really.
God damn it.
Fuck it. Katsuki snatches the box up with a scowl. Rips it open and empties the contents onto his covers while Kaminari shrieks, Oooaaah, babe, AH! from the other room. Eh. Good for him.
He sorts through the toys, his scowl growing. There are three different ones; two plugs, one slender and one a bit girthier, and a string of anal beads. Fuck. He’s supposed to start with this shit?
Izuku’s voice comes back to him unbidden: “I personally really liked this starter kit…”
Katsuki uncaps the lube.
✧✧✧
Katsuki is going to kill Izuku.
✧✧✧
Katsuki is going to fuck Izuku.
✧✧✧
Katsuki’s ass hurts.
Turns out, the starter kit was the right call. The bad call was finding a different sex toy store the very next day, buying an even bigger dildo than the first he grabbed, and playing with that. Because, yeah, it felt fucking phenominal, but he didn’t particularly consider the aftereffects until morning and fuck. His ass hurts.
And now he’s on patrol. Thank fuck, not with Izuku, because that’s liable to either come with him acting blushy and awkward or bouncing up to Katsuki with bright eyes and excitedly asking if the Anal Starter Kit worked out for him. No, thank you.
Instead, he’s with Todoroki. And… that may be worse.
“Dynamight.” Todoroki’s annoying monotone grates even more when Katsuki’s trying to hide a limp. “You don’t look well.”
“Yeah, well, you look like shit,” snaps Katsuki, even though it’s emphatically untrue. As per usual, Todoroki looks like he stepped out of a women’s wet dream magazine cover, his bi-colored hair fluttering in a breeze. Just like in a fucking shoujo manga, he tucks a strand behind one of his ears, and girls nearby swoon.
“Oh,” says Todoroki. “I mean, I guess I didn’t get my usual eight hours of sleep…”
Ugh, this guy.
Rolling his eyes, Katsuki mutters, “Fuckin’ forget it.”
“Mm, I can’t,” says Todoroki in that infuriatingly mild manner. “You’re limping. Did you get injured on your day off?”
“No,” snarls Katsuki.
“Bad back?”
“I’m nineteen years old, fuckface.”
Blandly, Todoroki peers down a nearby alleyway. “My face has never been used for such purposes, you know.”
Katsuki groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I fuckin’ hate you.”
“Mm.”
Asshole.
Their patrol continues for another few quiet minutes. Then:
“If you’re injured, you really shouldn’t be on patrol.”
Katsuki whirls on the two-toned bastard. “I said I’m fine, ” he barks into Todoroki’s unmoving face. “I can still run circles around you! Quit fuckin’ asking!”
“Wasn’t asking,” murmurs Todoroki.
“Then just shut up!”
Even as Katsuki snarls the words out, a high-pitched wail makes them both turn. A woman is screaming in the arms of some fucker with an octopus for a head and extra thick tentacles for legs as he sucker-slops his way down the street.
“Asshole,” growls Katsuki.
“A kidnapping,” deadpans Todoroki.
“Obviously.”
They take off, ice and explosions abound. Hero work comes before ass pain. Always.