Work Text:
Katsuki doesn't know what he’s looking at. Katsuki has no fucking idea what he’s looking at. Except he does because it’s his own goddamn face. A lot of his face. Collaged into some... abomination. Some rotten, tasteful fucking insanity piece that showcases him from every angle.
What the fuck.
What. The. Fuck!
Photos of him in his hero costume. At the grocery store. Outside the gym. Inside the locker room. At his agency. At UA. At graduation. On the street. In his goddamn bedroom. Newspaper clippings. School photos. Agency clearance badge photos. His fucking passport photo! Childhood snapshots he's only ever seen when his mom specifically wants to embarrass the hell out of him and yet—
There they are. Paper-fucking-mached behind the wall of a hidden panel in Deku's goddamn bedroom.
Which is fucked enough to have Katsuki's brilliant mind sputtering out like a truck with sugar poured straight into the gas tank, but it doesn't end there.
There’s a collection of his autographs. A mostly empty bottle of the same cologne he's worn since graduation. Brightly colored fins from the first version of his hero costume. A worn down, sweat-stiff handkerchief he uses for his palms when he tinkers with his gauntlets.
A toothbrush. A lock of blond hair; braided and small. A baby tooth in a jar. A murky, hastily tied-off condom that Katsuki remembers. Thefted from his wastebasket and preserved on this... this... fucking thing!
Overwhelmed red eyes threaten to bug out of his skull the longer he looks. It feels like he can't close them, leaving Katsuki trapped staring in horror at an amassed collection that can't be anything other than a shrine.
A Katsuki Bakugou, Pro Hero Dynamight Shrine.
One that inevitably belongs to Deku.
The stupid fucking nerd that Katsuki lives with. Has lived with. For years. His hero partner! The shy, soft-smiled nerd he's known since they were brats! The one that bounces on his toes and whimpers when he eats kimchi. The same Deku that blushes when people want a photo with him! Who sings off-key in the shower and— Deku!
Katsuki knows, in some far-off logical part of his brain, that he’s having a meltdown. He can't stop it.
Everything he knows, thought he knew, should know; it’s all mashing together into an unrecognizable glop inside his skull. Chemical reaction taking place while it bubbles and froths; growing, expanding, and threatening to explode in time with his sweating palms and—
Ping!
The swelling connection between him and a new reality bursts. Pops like both ears in an airplane. Cabin pressurizing, return to reality imminent; Katsuki lifts his phone and suddenly he can't hear anything beyond the tinnitus ringing around the tiny bones in his skull.
I’m out early and the Lebanese place down the block is still doing happy hour!!! I grabbed you fresh pita and hummus! (๑￫ܫ￩)
Deku's return is a pinprick of light among tunnel vision. Getting bigger. Closer. Brighter. Racing towards him bullet train-fast and so unforgiving that it isn't until he’s breaking out of the tunnel in a deafening rush of light and sound and awareness that Katsuki realizes he’s afraid. Dropped straight out of the airplane and splattering full force over the tracks of reality, Katsuki Bakugou is afraid.
Of Deku.
Who is on his way home while Katsuki is standing in his bedroom in front of his fucking—
Panicked eyes dart up to the exposed shrine in all its glory and the fear amp up to levels he hasn't felt since the war.
Katsuki slams the thing closed. Gently. So fucking gently. Like it’s an active nuclear warhead and even breathing on it could set it off.
And then he takes a step back.
And another.
And another.
Spinning on heel, Katsuki stalks out of Deku's room, the original reason for intruding forgotten, staring down at his phone with a pulse he can feel skyrocketing as he messages back.
Suiting up. On my way into the Agency. You have it.
Katsuki shuts himself up in his room, not shaking — not fucking shaking! — and opens his closet, digging through and knocking things off hangers.
A ping and a vibration from his pocket. The blonde’s heart nearly stops. Fear he can't control hammering away inside of him as he extracts his phone and looks down to read Deku's reply.
For work??? You aren't back til Tuesday, Kacchan! Did something happen? Are you okay? (꒪⌓꒪)
It occurs to him, slowly and then all at once, that Deku always knows his work schedule. Sometimes better than Katsuki himself. The blonde rushes out of the apartment with ice in his veins and, deep down, he knows.
He chose to flee.
Over the next few days, Katsuki is more hyper-aware of Deku than ever. More than that first year at UA. Or their middle school days as a bully looking for a target. Even in the days after the war; after Katsuki nearly lost him forever.
There’s a new degree of awareness now; edged in discomfort and paranoia the likes of which he’s never experienced. An endless cycle of questions. How he missed the secret person underneath a mask Katsuki has been blind to all these years. Wondering if Deku has always been a churning pool of batshit-insane under all the green curls, endless freckles, and sunshine smiles.
At first he tries to deny it. Katsuki doesn’t like lying to himself but fuck it. There can be exceptions. He imagines the whole thing as a sleep deprived fever-dream but the denial doesn't last long.
Unbudging awareness follows him during every interaction.
Every text, every shared meal, every patrol. With or without his permission, Katsuki finds himself cataloging everything Deku says and does. Searching for clues. Stuck seeing that fucking shrine every time he looks at him. Aware, too, of himself and what might end up on it next.
It doesn’t take long to see it.
The nerd isn't any different than he’s ever been. Not really. But there are signs. Things he's never noticed or paid enough attention to see for what they are. Hints he can’t brush off as Deku just being quirky.
There’s an intensity to Deku's gaze on him. A glow not unlike the flare of One for All when those green eyes map the damage sustained after a hard fight or rough spars. Tension when other people touch him. A happy, satisfied light when Katsuki pays him attention. It’s something he’s always chalked up to Deku being a nerdy little pick-me fanboy but it’s more. So much more. More than Katsuki knows how to handle.
Worse still, he’s begun noticing Deku in return.
Katsuki tracks his graceful lope through the apartment as the nerd hefts bags of groceries into the kitchen with a cheerful hum.
Staring at his back, Katsuki can’t help the growing realization that Deku isn't some puny nerd anymore. He hasn't been. Not for years. He’s half the fucking Wonder Duo and Midoriya Izuku can deadlift over 500kg without using his quirk.
He’s tall. Taller than Katsuki. Broad shouldered and thick in the arms with a chest like a billboard, thighs like tree trunks, and Katsuki never fucking noticed. Never bothered paying it any attention! Because Deku is Deku. The sunshine hero! A symbol of hope and peace. He isn't a threat, not to anybody but the villains they fight, and to Katsuki? The only threat he's ever been is one to his pride and Katsuki’s fragile teenage ego.
Until now.
Because suddenly the hot-headed blonde is viewing him in an entirely different light and it’s impossible for him to ignore how powerful Deku actually is.
Powerful and obsessed.
"Kacchan?"
Snapping to attention, Katsuki's maroon gaze meets swooped brows and a concerned pair of green eyes.
"What?"
"I— you were glaring at me." Deku starts to wring his large, gnarled hands. "You've been doing that a lot lately. Is... Is everything okay, Kacchan?"
He stares in silence for a long second and his palms start to sweat. Pickling and tense with it. Wondering. Always fucking wondering these days. Unable to tell if Deku is being sincere or if it’s an act or both.
The nerd squirms under the weight of his gaze. Normally Katsuki would smirk and enjoy being able to do that still, but now all he can see is his own face. From every angle, at every age, and a tied off condom laid out for worship.
"I'm good." Katsuki lies. "Are you?"
"Me?" Deku half-squeaks and Katsuki rolls his eyes, habit too ingrained.
"Yes, you. You good, Deku?"
The nerd frowns and, even on a more mature version of his face, it still looks boyish. Sweet. Cheeks naturally puffed out like some fucking chipmunk; chubby and begging for an old lady to come pinch 'em.
It feels like a lure in disguise and Katsuki forces his jaw to relax.
"I... Guess so, yeah? Things are going pretty good. O-other than spilling coffee on myself earlier, that sucked. Mostly just umm... Worried. About Kacchan."
His heart picks up in his chest and Katsuki pretends he doesn't notice.
"You don't gotta worry about me, Deku." He answers gruffly, discomfort radiating through him when the nerd blushes and starts to stammer.
"I know! Trust me, I know, just— you've been ummm, spacing out a lot? And uhhh, kind of... Intense? Lately? I don't know how to explain it, it's just different . It made me wonder if... Something was on your mind. You can always talk to me, Kacchan." He starts to wave his stupid hands with those stupid-ass big doe eyes. "Not that you have to! Just! You're always welcome to! If something is bothering you!"
His little spaz attack starts to abate and Deku actually looks shy. Smaller than he is. Like he isn't a full-grown monster that can throw a fuckin’ car with black whip if he wants to. All bashful and soft, full of youthful hope.
"That's what friends are for, right?"
It’s so fucking hard to look at Deku and see anything even close to nefarious. He’s just so damn earnest! Sweet to the point that it nearly disgusts him.
And yet.
Katsuki waves it off. "Like I said, I'm alright. Nothing you'd care about anyway. I'll work through it."
He wasn't intending to bait a trap with dismissal; teasing refusal in order to see how Deku will respond, but it ends up way. The moment Katsuki turns his attention away from his roommate to stare down at his phone, he feels it. The pluck, like a bug landing in a web. Shaking the threads. Drawing the spider's attention... Katsuki watches it happen in real time. Deku, going still with quiet, predatory focus. Staring. Ravenous with appetite Katsuki doesn't fully understand... It’s subtle, but there.
The feeling makes him want to run. He doesn't. Fuck that, he wouldn't. But his instincts are going haywire and there’s sweat gathering in his palms like a weapon ready to pull in a fight.
"If you say so, Kacchan." Deku agrees easily, sweet and agreeable as anything.
His wings twitch in the web, legs kicking, a sense of danger blaring loud and clear, putting the hairs at the back of his neck on end... But Katsuki stays still. Right where he’s at.
He ignores it and wonders what that says about him.
Katsuki manages to hold out an entire week before he succumbs to an insidious curiosity that’s growing inside of him like a cancer; replicating and spreading until he can't stand it anymore and has to seek out the cursed shrine. This time on purpose.
It isn't hard.
Now that Katsuki knows where to look, all it takes is waiting for Deku to leave. A quick shove against wood and there it is. Exposed, and yet Katsuki feels like the vulnerable one.
He stares into the abyss for a long time; this time feeling less like he’s witnessing that first glimpse of some unfathomable eldritch thing. Katsuki knows what to expect. He takes it in. Gaze roaming over the shape of his own face. All the different shades of blonde in his hair. The gap between his teeth that isn't there anymore. A calmness he's grown into.
Notices things he didn't before. A string of tiny copper lights he considered for his costume but ultimately tossed. A glass vial of nitroglycerin from his gauntlets. A temporary hearing aid he'd been forced to use after an accident. Dried blood on a cloth… but the thing that draws his attention more than any other is a tiny, gold cup at the shrine's center. One of those sake cups barely deeper than a saucer. Thin and dainty and borderline delicate; everything Katsuki isn't.
It sits there, empty, but Katsuki knows what it is. It’s meant to hold offerings and suddenly there’s a need to know, what, exactly, Deku offers him.
Discomfort churns angrily inside of him. Rising like hot bile burning the back of his throat and Katsuki steps away. Closes it up tight, and tells himself that's all he came for.
That’s it.
It doesn't matter. He won't look again. He won’t come back.
Katsuki comes back.
He comes back from a long shift to Deku on his way out. Unexpected night patrol. He's been home all day and Katsuki’s been out busting his ass. They pass like ships in the night. Deku steps out of the house and Katsuki barely makes it through an entire shower before he’s back in front of the thing. Staring.
He looks over his own face. Unshakable vanity colliding violently with a tiny rock in the road that wonders, ‘Why me?’ As if Katsuki doesn't fucking know why!
It trips him up anyway. Makes him look over his own face with a critical eye, wanting to know what Deku sees when he stares into the shrine. What he—
The plate is empty and Katsuki's stomach turns. That's why he's come. To see what Deku would—
He closes it quickly and flees once again.
The nerd runs off to catch dinner with some extras and Katsuki checks the shrine. Katsuki gets home while Deku is still on the news and makes a visit to the shrine. A window of opportunity before Katsuki is supposed to meet him at the Agency and he peeks at the shrine. An insane stroke of luck requiring Deku to do morning jogs with Ingenium for ten days leading up to a major sting— Katsuki spends all of them in Deku's bedroom. At the shrine. Waiting for the day the offering bowl isn't empty.
Day after day, checking. Thinking. Imagining.
Asking himself why? What Deku sees in him that leads to this. And every day, the confusion is demolished by an arrogant rush of reasons for Deku's obsession like a stampede of wildebeests. How strong he is. How capable. His success rate on missions. How attractive he is. What he's lived through. What he'd lived up to. All of it convincing him, with every visit, that Deku is right to see him like that. Right to appreciate him. To watch him.
But the bowl remains empty.
Empty; day after day. Left without an answer to what Deku finds worthy of him. Aching with a need to take. To have whatever it is. If he’s Deku’s god, it belongs to him. All of it. The whole shrine.
So why is the plate always empty?
Katsuki's ego swells; growing fat and well fed. The downfalls of his youth kept close. Pride, there to make him stupid, but Katsuki doesn't see it.
He’s too busy preening under Deku's attention. Fighting harder, faster, longer. Forcing his way to victory and blasting forward with fresh tweaks to unstoppable moves. Pushing himself during training and spars, hours at the gym, all to put him in the best shape of his fucking life.
He has to. Deku is going to see him. Immortalize him in that fucked-up Ode to Perfection and if he does enough he'll finally see—
It takes Katsuki two months to have the profound realization that he's taken All Might's place in Deku’s life. It’s the adult version of his childhood bedroom; packed full of limited edition action figures, impossible to find merch, rare bobbles, previous iterations nobody else remembers. All loudly proclaiming a love for the best hero in the world.
And Deku would know.
Nobody else in the world is fit to judge who the best is more than Midoriya Izuku.
All Might chose Deku to succeed him. Stood on live TV and pointed straight at him, told Deku that he was Next.
But, to Deku, it’s #1 Pro Hero Dynamight. Bakugou fucking Katsuki.
His pants are ripped open and Katsuki has a hand around his cock faster than he ever has, for anything or anyone.
With dry fingers and a dick nowhere near wet enough to ease the friction, Katsuki jerks himself off greedily. Panting without a care, eyes devouring the collected efforts of Deku’s vision. Of Him. The best in the fucking world.
Katsuki grunts, body tensing with it while he strips his cock. He fists himself savage and fast because he can. Nobody else matters but him and how he wants it. He can have whatever he wants because he’s the best. Better than All Might. Better than whoever holds One For All. Better than Deku.
Explosive pleasure kicks him brutally in the chest without warning. It takes the breath out of him as he explodes in his hand, shooting all over his fingers and the wall. Past the edges into the shrine.
His release drips down the wood paneling in thick, oozing strings and Katsuki pants in a daze while he watches it. The dripping release eventually stills, getting tacky as it starts to dry, and Katsuki finally shakes himself out of it. He comes back to himself with a clear head to stare at what he's done. Torn and filled with disgust but still so fucking validated by himself and his own worth.
Swimming in the high of it, Katsuki says fuck it.
He could clean the mess, put everything back the way it was with nobody the wiser, but he doesn't. He leaves it all and goes a step beyond just leaving it.
If Deku won't give him an offering, then he'll leave one of his own.
Snatching up the offering plate with a soiled hand, Katsuki shakes, wringing the last meager droplets of his release straight from his dick. It’s a pathetic offering. It’d probably be better to collect more of it off the wall and scrape it off onto the plate, but Katsuki’s already putting the offering back in the middle of the assembly. Closing it up with slimy hands.
He’s curious to know if Deku will finally get the message and offer his god something worthwhile.
He waits for things to change. For that inevitable shift of Deku seeing. Reacting. Katsuki is strung tight with it. Fear. Excitement. Anticipation. It’s an endless stream of adrenaline, all doled out in tiny blips. He knows it’s on the horizon and Katsuki wants to jump in and see what Deku will do.
But the storm never comes.
Katsuki waits all night. Sneaks a glance into Deku's room and notes the distinct lack of jizz all over the wall, so he waits all day and late into the night, ready for conflict, but there’s nothing. No bouncing silk threads as the spider races forward. No confrontation. Nothing.
He’s jumpy with it. Agitated. Stuck together with Deku in a general vicinity, at home and otherwise, but nothing is happening. No changes. No storm. No time to go and look at the shrine either. No way of knowing if his offering is still there or if it's been reciprocated in some way.
By the time some space rolls around, Katsuki is gnawing at the bit for it. The front door is hardly shut for more than a minute before he’s dashing into Deku's room and ripping the panel open to get to the shrine. That is no longer there.
Katsuki makes a sound like he's been stabbed and grabs both edges, yanking himself forward and cramming half his head into the open gap. It doesn't make it less empty. No pictures. No newspaper clippings, no lights, no merch. No hair, no blood, no condom. No semen.
No offering plate.
Katsuki heart rate shoots through the roof while he proceeds to freak the fuck out.
He isn't in control. He’s very much out of control. Ripping open closets and demolishing neatly organized drawers, emptying entire cabinets while he tears through the apartment; looking everywhere. Right down to the fucking garbage, ripped out of the can and left strewn across the linoleum while Katsuki searches desperately for any hint of where it all could have gone.
But there’s nothing. Fucking NOTHING.
So much nothing that Katsuki is pacing wildly through the apartment like an animal in a cage. Hands fisted in his hair and countless possibilities racing through his mind. Eyeing up patches of drywall and wondering where the best place to hide another secret panel would be. How many walls he’d have to tear into before he finds it again.
He's only just made the decision to start ripping the bathroom to shit when a key hits the lock and suddenly Katsuki's warpath is diverted. Stalking furiously to the door, Deku is hardly through it before Katsuki has him by the collar, shoving his psycho hero partner full body against the closed door with nearly all his strength.
There’s a cry of alarm when he does but Katsuki is too strung out on his own confused anger to hear it.
"Where is it, Deku?!" He snarls furiously.
"Where's what! Kacchan!!"
Katsuki forces himself deeper into Deku's space like a knife between the fucking ribs, all the more enraged at huge green doe eyes and palms lifted in surrender.
"Don't fucking Kacchan me! Where the hell is the shrine, Deku?!"
"I-I d-don't— Kacchan j-just—"
Katsuki cuts him off in a roar. "DON'T FUCKING LIE TO ME DEKU!! WHERE IS IT?! WHAT DID YOU DO WITH IT?!"
"You h-have to— Please, Kacchan," Deku pleads like a liar, wide eyed and so convincing that Katsuki nearly doubts himself. "You're scaring me, okay?”
The thread of self control breaks and Katsuki slams his fist into the wood beside Deku's head, making the little freak yelp with alarm and half-jerk away. The heated blonde doesn't let him. He grabs a fistful of Deku's curls and yanks his gaze right back where he wants it, chest heaving like a bull ready to gore the fuck out of the matador that just. won't. stop. pushing.
"I'm scaring you? I don't think so, Deku. You fucking FREAK!! I found your goddamn shrine! I KNOW it was there! I came all fucking over it! Left it for you on your little gold plate, you gaslighting piece of shit! So don't act like you don't know what the FUCK I'm talking about!!" Rage and pride and swollen, unflinching ego all slam together in an unstoppable force that drives Katsuki to take it even further. "I'm your fucking GOD, Deku, and I want to know where. the FUCK YOU PUT MY GODDAMN SHRINE!!!”
The silence that rings through the apartment in the seconds after is suffocating in its oppression. Heavy with whatever the hell is happening between them. Katsuki is dizzy with it. Enraged so far beyond what he's ever experienced. Even seeing Deku use a quirk for the first time couldn't compare. Being beaten by him can’t compare.
He glares into the nerd's stunned face and it feels as close to hate as he’s ever been. (Why didn't anyone tell him how thin the line between polar opposites really is? That it's a circle rather than a line. Just one tiny thread between where the two ends meet.)
Deku's worried expression falls into one of annoyance and Katsuki's gaze flares with victory, feeling it on the horizon like a sixth sense.
"Back up." Deku voices quietly.
"I don't fucking think so, Deku. If you think—"
"Back. Up. Katsuki."
Electricity crackles in the air and Deku's eyes glow with it. Piercing through him like he’s nothing. When Deku takes a confident step forward, Katsuki can only scramble back.
Unexpected, terrified confusion radiates through him. Primal fear that shouldn’t belong hanging itself inside of him like icicles along every rib because Deku just keeps coming. Unflinching and so much scarier than he has any right to be.
Katsuki is the best in the world. The symbol of Victory. Bigger, faster, stronger now than he's ever been, but he matches Deku step-for-step. Backing away with growing concern until his back slams into cold metal and Deku stops directly in front of him. Looking down at him. Unusually hard eyes and a firm set to his mouth that he only ever wears when he’s going up against his toughest adversaries.
Every single hair on the back of Katsuki's neck is on end, smug pride abandoning him while he quakes under that gaze. The boiling, molten-hot rage cooling rapidly like it's been plunged directly into liquid nitrogen and Katsuki doesn't know—
Deku raises a calm hand toward him and Katsuki vibrates at its approach. Trapped. Adrenaline like he hasn't felt since he almost died pouring through him so fast it feels like he's already had his throat ripped out and he’s just waiting for the fade-to-black.
Warm, gnarled fingers gently rub the puckered lines from between his eyebrows and Katsuki’s heart threatens to stop.
"I don't like seeing Kacchan so upset. It makes me worry about you, Kacchan." The gentle hand cradles his face with more care than he's ever felt, even as a child, and Katsuki flinches. "Do I need to be worried, Kacchan?"
Deku's full lips shift into a concerned frown. "It's been a long time since I've seen you like this."
Every instinct inside of him is telling Katsuki to run. He’s in danger and there’s no chance of winning if he fights; when did that happen? And why? It reaches new heights when Deku smiles sweetly at him.
"Where is it, Deku?" Katsuki accidentally finds himself pleading. In a whisper. Too scared to raise his voice any higher. Too frazzled to know what else to say.
"Heh... I guess even gods don't know everything. Huh, Kacchan?"
The power of his quirk dies from him but Katsuki doesn't feel any safer.
Deku takes an easy step back and glances around. Seeming to notice the state of the apartment for the first time with an immediate look of disapproval. He levels it at Katsuki seconds after.
"You really tore through this place... Jeez louise. The apartment is a wreck, Kacchan.”
Shame curdles in his guts like spoiled milk and Katsuki doesn't know what to do. Or how to feel. He doesn’t know how he lost control of the situation so spectacularly.
"You'll clean it up... Won't you? I've got a debriefing in forty minutes and I can't be late."
Katsuki nods, wordless, and something even more uncomfortable writhes inside of him at the look he receives, even after submitting.
"It's disrespectful to encroach on other people's spirituality, Kacchan... I shouldn't need to tell you that."
"Deku—"
The other turns away so suddenly that Katsuki instinctively reaches out after him, but Deku is already walking away, leaving Katsuki strung out on fear and adrenaline and confused desperation behind him.
"Wait—" He cracks. "Deku, what about my offering?"
He doesn't look back. "You prayed to the wrong god."
Deku disappears down the hallway, into his demolished bedroom with a quiet click, and Katsuki's legs give out from under him.
On his hands and knees among the rest of their garbage, Katsuki tries to breathe through another too-close call that he barely understands.
A listless emptiness takes over Katsuki's life.
Like divine misfortune, Deku is called to action in a massive underground operation and, overnight, they’re running opposite schedules. Katsuki is lucky if he catches Deku on his way out the door let alone anything else. They’re in different spheres at work too. Even when necessity insists they interact, it’s leagues worse.
The facade is locked down tight. Deku being... Deku. Happy-go-lucky with a big smile for everyone. Nobody knows what’s really underneath except for Katsuki, and even that’s started to feel like a far off dream.
For the first few days, Katsuki checks the empty shrine space daily, but it remains empty. Day after day; always empty. Katsuki goes from checking it once a day, to a few times a week, to once a week. By the time the month ends, Katsuki can't remember when he looked at it last.
Excitement bleeds from the world. Nothing has changed. Katsuki is still out exploding villains. Sneering at reporters while he answers questions. Filling out fucking damage reports at the agency. Still going to the gym. Having drinks with Riot and Dunce-Face occasionally. Showering. Doing laundry. But something is lost. Something Deku had given without Katsuki ever realizing... Only to then take it back, taking so much more with him than Katsuki knew was there to take.
It culminates in a loss. A brutal one.
Katsuki, fucking thrashed and having his ass handed to him by a group of villains so severely that Red Riot and the Icy Bastard have to get shit handled in his stead.
It's all over the news before he's even left the station. Humiliation like he's never felt, and Katsuki doesn't know how to care. He's in a daze. Going through the motions until suddenly he's home and standing in Deku's room, staring at the hidden panel.
Has he really sunk so low? Become so unworthy? Is there nothing worth seeing, now? Had Deku realized it before Katsuki could?
Have the mighty finally fallen?
A wet, soot-soaked glove presses to the center of the panel and Katsuki pushes, ready to see his own emptiness finally reflected.
And promptly has his knees buckle when it isn't empty at all.
He’s hunched over his own knees, forehead briefly touching the floor before he knows it. Shaking. Feeling like he’s finally fucking losing it. Worn so far down he no longer knows what to do; looking the part of a proper supplicant to a deity scorned. Hope and desperation duke it out inside of him and Katsuki is afraid to rise.
When he does, the shrine is still there. Perfectly intact, just as it was before. Like it's been there all along.
The only thing missing is—
Footsteps to his left.
Katsuki snaps to attention and finds Deku there. Towering over him like a wall of muscle and scars, clad in pajamas, wearing Katsuki's shirt.
Green eyebrows lift, like he’s surprised to find him there. "Kacchan?"
Katsuki swallows, looking up at him from his knees. Feeling so goddamn small in comparison. He can't imagine what he looks like in Deku's eyes right now. Kneeling on legs that won't hold him, feeling like he's hit rock bottom.
"That's my shirt, Deku." He says, set so adrift he can't think of anything else.
And Deku laughs. "So your room is off limits but mine isn't?" He teases.
It should get a scoff and a rude gesture in return but Katsuki doesn't feel like himself. Doesn't know what to do with himself. His gaze lowers and then freezes upon seeing the missing plate in Deku's hand.
Emotion crashes through him with violent force and Katsuki looks pleadingly to his hero partner. Wondering if Deku is finally there to make an offering. Wondering if, somehow, it will undo all the change Katsuki didn't want.
Deku's face crumples looking at him. "Oh Kacchan..." Pathetic. He’s pathetic. "You— I didn't realize things got this bad."
No fucking shit they’re bad, he wants to snap, but Katsuki feels broken. Like a horse too tired to kick anymore.
"I'm going to help you Kacchan. I'll give you exactly what you need." Katsuki believes him.
He strides forward with purpose and Katsuki is brought eye-level with Deku's crotch, suddenly realizing that his roommate is hard.
Katsuki stares up at him, frozen and wide-eyed, somehow not having seen it coming, and doesn't flinch when Deku reaches to push the half-forgotten hero mask high up on his forehead. Moving to free his arousal, Katsuki's gaze snaps forward and he’s hit with more emotion than he knows how to interpret as Deku's cock is revealed to him. Rock hard and bigger than he expects despite having no expectations. Thicker than him. Intimidatingly large and flushed dark, like he's been hard for a while.
Katsuki only manages to look away and back up at him when Deku grabs a fistful of his hair.
"I'm going to show you how to give proper tribute, Kacchan.”
Against all odds, Katsuki opens his mouth, saliva pooling on his tongue, and just... lets him.
Deku presses past his lips and the size of him forces Katsuki's jaw wider. Heavy on the tongue, thick in his mouth. Blood-hot. He starts to move and Katsuki immediately starts to choke on the girth but there’s nowhere to go. Deku has him by the hair; rutting into his mouth, pushing deeper to fuck into his throat. Katsuki's fists clench in his lap and tears leak from his eyes until he’s crying, choking properly with Deku moaning above him, and somehow Katsuki feels more right than he has in weeks. Hungry to be used in a way he never was before.
It doesn’t take long. Not with how greedy Deku is being. Hot flesh pulses between his lips and a rush of salty bitterness fills his mouth, fanning the unexpected but fierce arousal Katsuki feels aching down between his own legs. Only, this isn’t for him.
"Don't swallow, Kacchan." Deku groans.
Through blurry eyes, Katsuki looks up and waits for the other to be done. Dutifully holding Deku’s release in his mouth while he slips free with a breathy sound and slowly tucks himself away. He doesn't know what to expect, after, but it certainly isn't Deku holding the plate underneath his chin.
"Open up, Kacchan." He murmurs kindly, stroking a thumb over his cheek. Looking at him like Katsuki is the prettiest thing he's ever seen despite knowing he looks like a fucking mess.
Katsuki obeys anyway.
His mouth falls open. "Tongue out." He lets it loll out. Thick, slimy wads of spit and cum rolling down off his tongue, dripping off it and into metal cradled by Deku's fingers.
"Now look at me."
He does with clearer eyes; staring through a foggy mental haze at pink, freckled cheeks and eyes so dark he almost doesn't recognize them. Deku's fingers tighten their grip in his hair and Katsuki winces but doesn't close his mouth and that seems to please Deku immensely.
"I made you, Kacchan." He says seriously as spit continues to fall off his tongue. "Everything you are is thanks to me. You, wanting to be better and stay better than me? Wanting to fight with me? Impress me? Do you understand, Kacchan? It’s always because of me. None of this," he gestures toward what’s depicted in the shrine, "would be possible without me. You wouldn't be possible without me."
Unwanted epiphany slams through Katsuki like the most devastating blow of his life and Deku smiles.
"You are my god." He offers sweetly, releasing Katsuki’s hair and standing at his full height, stepping past him to delicately place the offering plate back where it belongs. Only then does Deku look down at him. "But don't mistake it as one-sided."
Deku closes the shrine behind him. Nothing but an empty stretch of wall, Katsuki's blackened handprint at the center.
"I'm your god now too, Kacchan, and there's no untangling us."
Two halves, one legacy.
Katsuki swallows the last of the bitter saltiness from his mouth and stands slowly to meet him. Equals. Not like before, but far from empty.
He feels divine.