Part 3 of the Magic Sex Weed Chronic AU because I'm terribly impatient and want to post RIGHT NOW. TdBk and TdBkDk, Dom Izuku, some daddy kink, exhibitionism, D/S ~stuff and we'll see what else happens because I don't even know yet Les Go!
My kofi in case you really enjoy the trip ;) http://ko-fi.com/ellabesmirche...
Katsuki feels like he’s been run over by a bus. It’s been THREE WHOLE *fucking* days and he’s sore in places he didn’t even know existed, namely these weird achy muscles located where his thighs and hips are connected.
Every time he walks up the stairs to his bed he can /feel/ it like he never has before. And that’s to say nothing of his biceps and abs and his fucking /ass muscles./ At least he’s not sore-- well.
In a place literally no one could ever fucking fault him for being sore, given the really /ridiculously/ oversized circumstances. He’d maybe been a little less than comfortable the morning after, but then Deku had-- with his /tongue/ and his stupid, pretty fucking mouth and--
Okay, yeah, that had maybe been. Great, actually. But seriously, what the actual fuck? What had Deku /done/ to him? He’s motherfucking Ground Zero and he should not be /this/ goddamn sore just from /sex./
Is it always like this? Holy shit, does Kaminari just walk around sore as fuck all the fucking time? Does /Todoroki/?
Maybe it’s like gym soreness, like the kinda thing you just got used to after a while and maybe even liked a little and just sort of expected. Not that Katsuki likes it. He doesn’t. He /doesn’t./
He hates it, in fact, hates that every literal goddamn step he takes reminds him of-- Goddamn it. He needs to blow something up. And he’s /never/ smoking Kaminari’s weed again. Or maybe he should smoke it all the time, really, he truly doesn’t fucking know.
He grumbles to himself while he moves around his kitchen, but he’s not even really sure what he’s so pissy about.
It could have something to do with the fact that he hasn’t talked to or texted with Deku since he did a lot of really filthy shit with his mouth and then left Katsuki to sleep in the middle of a twisted pile of sheets that smelled so much like /Deku/ Katsuki /still/~
~hadn’t been able to bring himself to wash them, even though they really fucking needed it. He’s pretty sure that can’t be it though. He and Deku aren’t on a daily communication schedule. Sometimes they go weeks without talking; they’re both busy being heroes and shit.
It’s not like they’ve ever /checked in/ with each other. So it really can’t be that. What does he give a fuck if Todoroki changed his fucking facebook relationship status from ‘single’ to very not fucking single two days ago.
Who the fuck even uses Facebook anymore. Fuck, Todoroki is /lame./
Katsuki is too annoyed, slamming around in his kitchen while he makes himself a cup of coffee.
He has a free day, and even though Shitty Hair and Pikachu have been trying to talk him into coming out to a park or a mall or some shit with them, he’s much more inclined to stay in his fucking house and mope about Deku.
Except for ‘mope’ means ‘be fucking pissed about,’ and fuck anyone who implies otherwise. His scalding hot shower helped a little, and he thinks a cup of coffee and about thirty minutes of violent video games should ease the tension in his chest.
He doesn’t even bother getting dressed, just leaves his towel slung around his waist and eases himself back up the stairs to his bed, his TV, and his PlayStation.
He hadn’t been able to look at the bed for a whole day after… the incident. Now it’s just the nightstand that brings a hot, furious, embarrassed flush to his cheeks every time he considers it. Not even in Katsuki’s worst nightmares does Deku find out about…. The Toy.
Katsuki still can’t think of him /knowing/ about it without feeling sorta sick. Deku had seemed to find the whole thing kinda funny, hadn’t seemed to read too much into it, but that was almost worse, now that he was gone.
At the time, Katsuki had appreciated that Deku didn’t harp on it, or ask him to explain himself, but now-- What must he be thinking?
Probably that Katsuki is a lame fucking lame ass loser who buys shitty home made hero merch because he’s that much of a fan boy, and even that wouldn’t be /so/ bad if it hadn’t been /Deku’s/ toy.
Katsuki hates this. He really, truly does. He’d rather lick ground glass than think about his stupid idiot fantasies and his stupid idiot feelings and his stupid idiot Deku. Why /the fuck/ hasn’t he called?
How fucking /dare/ he just come in here with his big dumb shoulders and his /sinful/ arms and all those freckles~
~(“Some people think they’re /cute,/ Kacchan” and fuck you fuck you fuck you, you stupid worthless nerd they’re not cute they’re devastating and I fucking hate your /guts/ and all your freckles too) and his-- Fuck the way he’d smiled.
The way he’d-- Katsuki had /never/ felt like that before. Like. He doesn’t even have words for it. He hadn’t felt like himself.
He’d felt all fuzzy & weird inside like his consciousness was located at the end of a long dark tunnel and everything that happened to his body took a long time to get there. And everything that had happened- Katsuki really, truly, unequivocally /loathed/ how good it had felt.
He’d sort of hoped that in the impossible alternate dimension where he and Deku hooked up in his fantasies that it would just be really god awful terrible bad. That they could laugh about it and move on and maybe even actually be friends instead of… whatever it was they were.
But then Deku had to come in here with his /Good job, baby/s, and his /Look so good, Kacchan/s and his /harder, harder, harder/ and really where the fuck did he get the right? Why. The /*fuck*/ hasn’t he called?