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Bakugou's not thrilled about seeing a therapist, especially in the middle of a fucking pandemic, but whatever. At least he'll be able to work through some of his self-worth and personal image issues. Plus rage. Yeah, he should talk about suppressing his rage.
The video call starts, and he gawks. All of his annoyance evaporates. His thoughts fizzle out, sparking only a single, slack jawed reaction:
Holy SHIT.
Holy SHIT.
His therapist is a total fucking DADDY. Muscles bulge against his pink button down, and Katsuki can absolutely see his dark, dusky nipples through the pale fabric. The seams look like they're going to pop, and the white buttons down the front are fighting to keep their grip.
A literal mane of red hair cascades down the man's enormous shoulders, and a light shadow of black stubble coats his sharp, square jaw.
He's wearing glasses with red and black frames, and the second he opens his mouth, Katsuki knows he's fucked. The deep voice that rumbles through his speakers makes his heart lurch into his throat. His cock swells against his sweatpants, and he struggles to breathe normally.
"Hi, Mr. Bakugou. My name is Dr. Kirishima Eijirou. It looks like I'm going to be your therapist!" He grins, revealing gorgeous teeth.
Katsuki's mouth has gone dry, and all he can manage to do is wheeze, "Fuck yes."
Katsuki's mouth has gone dry, and all he can manage to do is wheeze, "Fuck yes."
-*-*-*-
I sort of planned this to be just a few tweets, but I'm going NUTS without any way to actually write. Would y'all want this to be a wee smutty thread done on my phone (and probably full of autocorrect typos lol)?
-*-*-*-
I sort of planned this to be just a few tweets, but I'm going NUTS without any way to actually write. Would y'all want this to be a wee smutty thread done on my phone (and probably full of autocorrect typos lol)?
-*-*-*-
Dr. Kirishima blinks. "Say again?"
Katsuki's heart all but stops. His jaw works soundlessly for a few seconds before he manages, "Nothing. It was nothing."
His new therapist hums and quirks an eyebrow, but doesn't press. "Now then, let's start with some basic information."
Katsuki's heart all but stops. His jaw works soundlessly for a few seconds before he manages, "Nothing. It was nothing."
His new therapist hums and quirks an eyebrow, but doesn't press. "Now then, let's start with some basic information."
Katsuki wrinkles his nose. "Eh? Why?"
"So we can get to know one another, man! Plus it really guides me in figuring out how to help you best as we move forward. The better I know you, the better plans I can develop for you to improve and reach your goals!"
"So we can get to know one another, man! Plus it really guides me in figuring out how to help you best as we move forward. The better I know you, the better plans I can develop for you to improve and reach your goals!"
Fuck.
That's right. This isn't a sexual call. He's here for therapy, for /help/.
Katsuki scowls at the thought. /Well, I ain't changing therapists./
Dr. Kirishima's too damn sexy for Katsuki to let him get away. For now, he decides to play along. He can always find ways to+
That's right. This isn't a sexual call. He's here for therapy, for /help/.
Katsuki scowls at the thought. /Well, I ain't changing therapists./
Dr. Kirishima's too damn sexy for Katsuki to let him get away. For now, he decides to play along. He can always find ways to+
get into his doctor's pants--virtually, of course--once the sessions have gotten underway. He leans back, trying to play it cool.
"Fine. What do you wanna know?"
"Let's start with you telling me why you're here." He chuckles softly. "In the session, I mean. Normally I have an+
"Fine. What do you wanna know?"
"Let's start with you telling me why you're here." He chuckles softly. "In the session, I mean. Normally I have an+
office for clients." He runs one meaty hand through his hair, and Katsuki's gaze flicks toward the hair on the back of his knuckles. He clenches his jaw, imagining those thick hands wrapped around his hips or thighs.
/Fuck. This might be harder than I thought./
/Fuck. This might be harder than I thought./
His eyes shift back toward Dr. Kirishima's face. "Anger management, mostly," he mutters at last.
Dr. Kirishima nods and writes something down outside the view of his camera. "Tell me a little about that."
"What's there to tell?" he barks--mostly to try and cover up how much+
Dr. Kirishima nods and writes something down outside the view of his camera. "Tell me a little about that."
"What's there to tell?" he barks--mostly to try and cover up how much+
he wants the hot doctor to plow him.
"Well," Dr. Kirishima replies, turning his attention back to Katsuki, "there must be more to it than just being angry, right? If you're talking with me, that means you recognize that your anger is upsetting part of your life balance."
"Well," Dr. Kirishima replies, turning his attention back to Katsuki, "there must be more to it than just being angry, right? If you're talking with me, that means you recognize that your anger is upsetting part of your life balance."
Katsuki grits his teeth. /Shit./ Of course /Dr./ Kirishima would be smart enough to say something like that. It's his job to recognize how small things--like taking action--affect people. It's annoying, but at least it means his therapist isn't incompetent.
"This is a big first step," Dr. Kirishima continues.
From anyone else, those words would have sounded like an insult, like Katsuki was being talked down to. From the doctor, though, they almost sound... like an acknowledgement. Just that, nothing more.
From anyone else, those words would have sounded like an insult, like Katsuki was being talked down to. From the doctor, though, they almost sound... like an acknowledgement. Just that, nothing more.
He's clearly not coddling Katsuki, which helps the blonde relax a bit. It's... nice.
Katsuki's jaw aches from clenching his teeth so hard. He really doesn't want to admit how nice that acknowledgment is. He doesn't want to sound weak or pathetic, especially not in front of+
Katsuki's jaw aches from clenching his teeth so hard. He really doesn't want to admit how nice that acknowledgment is. He doesn't want to sound weak or pathetic, especially not in front of+
this absolutely /smoking/ daddy.
"Bakugou--can I call you that?"
He gives a stiff nod.
"How is your anger affecting your life?"
The question is simple, and Katsuki forces out an answer: "It... it keeps people away."
"How so?"
He swallows. His throat feels tight. "Yelling."
"Bakugou--can I call you that?"
He gives a stiff nod.
"How is your anger affecting your life?"
The question is simple, and Katsuki forces out an answer: "It... it keeps people away."
"How so?"
He swallows. His throat feels tight. "Yelling."
Shit, his eyes are burning. This feels like so much. It seems wrong to open this part of himself to the doctor, but he's determined to do this. He wants to fight back, wants to shut the conversation down and shift the topic, but he's /trying/ not to. He knows deep down that+
the only way therapy will help him is if he actively participates, but it's so fucking /hard/. He doesn't want to bare this part of himself to Kirishima, doesn't want him to see the ugliness underneath his pretty face.
The lump in his throat tightens.
The lump in his throat tightens.
"Bakugou," Dr. Kirishima says, leaning forward, all of his attention on his patient. "Take a deep breath through your nose."
"I ain't panicking," he snaps.
His therapist nods. "It's a technique used to help ground you so you can talk about difficult topics."
"I ain't panicking," he snaps.
His therapist nods. "It's a technique used to help ground you so you can talk about difficult topics."
Katsuki can't stop himself from sneering. "Yeah, well, it ain't something I wanna do, okay? I'm not...fuck."
"You're not what?"
And fuck his patient voice. Fuck how calm and sweet he sounds.
"I'm not fucking weak, okay?!" he snarls, lashing forward. The tears in his eyes burn.
"You're not what?"
And fuck his patient voice. Fuck how calm and sweet he sounds.
"I'm not fucking weak, okay?!" he snarls, lashing forward. The tears in his eyes burn.
"Bakugou, no one said--"
"This was a fucking mistake!" he shouts.
Before he can register what he's doing, he ends the call, cutting off Dr. Kirishima's protests.
Katsuki hunches forward and screams, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes to subdue the tears.
"This was a fucking mistake!" he shouts.
Before he can register what he's doing, he ends the call, cutting off Dr. Kirishima's protests.
Katsuki hunches forward and screams, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes to subdue the tears.
Fuck.
FUCK.
He wasn't supposed to react like that! He wasn't supposed to get angry and defensive! He tried so fucking /hard/ to just go along with it, but... but in the end, he couldn't. He fucking couldn't even do /one/ session!
FUCK.
He wasn't supposed to react like that! He wasn't supposed to get angry and defensive! He tried so fucking /hard/ to just go along with it, but... but in the end, he couldn't. He fucking couldn't even do /one/ session!
Katsuki barks another frustrated scream and all but jumps out of his chair, sending it rolling across the room. He storms away from his computer and paces around the main floor of his home.
Fuck the pandemic, fuck his anger issues, and fuck therapy!
Fuck the pandemic, fuck his anger issues, and fuck therapy!
-*-*-*-
Katsuki tries not to think about how he ended his therapy session. The day passes slowly, even with work. It’s not enough to distract him from his demons.
Katsuki tries not to think about how he ended his therapy session. The day passes slowly, even with work. It’s not enough to distract him from his demons.
They constantly whisper, telling him how he shouldn’t have blown Dr. Kirishima off like that. They tell him that he’s once again fucked up and pushed someone away before he could let them get close. They tell him he’s a fucking failure.
And in a way, they’re right.
And in a way, they’re right.
Knowing that doesn’t make the situation any better. In fact, it aggravates him more. He just… fuck, he just wants something to go right for a change. He wants…
Katsuki scowls at the dishes he’s been scrubbing for the last fifteen minutes. Because he lives alone, he doesn’t actually have many to do. He just does them and does them again, convinced he probably missed a spot.
But now, as he stands with suds dripping off his hands and into the sink, he realizes that maybe he wants someone who’s willing to see past his rage issues. Someone who’s willing to push his boundaries and ignore the fact that he screams and shouts and has major anger problems.
He sighs, shoulders slumping forward.
/I just want a fucking friend./
/I just want a fucking friend./
It’s a weird thought, but it’s not the first time he’s come to that conclusion. Ever since college, Katsuki has roomed alone. He /tried/ to have roommates, he really did. But every time they did something, he exploded at them.
He was so volatile and unpredictable that he chased literally /everyone/ away. Even Deku has stopped inviting him over for dinner. Those invitations ceased somewhere around Christmas of the previous year.
Katsuki doesn’t have any illusions as to why. Just /thinking/ about Christmas dinner has his stomach in a sickly knot. He didn’t /mean/ to do that, he just…
He drops the dish back into the sink. It lands with a hollow clatter, and he leans against the counter, squeezing his eyes shut and willing the monumental guilt away as best he can. It’s not easy. He doesn’t know how to handle feeling guilty about this.
There’s not much he can do now, anyway. He’s tried apologizing. The best that got was a strained, forced smile and an expression of disbelief. Deku hasn’t contacted him since.
“Even he gave up on me,” he mutters, voice hard and cold.
Maybe it’s time he gives up on himself, too.
“Even he gave up on me,” he mutters, voice hard and cold.
Maybe it’s time he gives up on himself, too.
Just as that thought crosses his mind, his phone buzzes.
Katsuki jumps, shocked by the sound.
The only people who ever contact him regularly are his bitch of a mom and his dad. Even then, he doesn’t talk with them much.
Katsuki jumps, shocked by the sound.
The only people who ever contact him regularly are his bitch of a mom and his dad. Even then, he doesn’t talk with them much.
It’s probably just his mom, reaching out to nag at him like she always does. He doesn’t really want to talk to her, but maybe it would help. He doubts it, but there’s always the chance, right? She can be a total bitch, but he knows her better than anyone else except maybe his+
father.
He knows she means well.
Katsuki reaches for his phone. It’s charging on the peninsula behind him. He flicks the screen on and frowns. He has an email from the therapy company he signed up with.
“Great,” he mutters.
He knows she means well.
Katsuki reaches for his phone. It’s charging on the peninsula behind him. He flicks the screen on and frowns. He has an email from the therapy company he signed up with.
“Great,” he mutters.
It’s probably some rando reaching out to say, “Hey, sorry your first session didn’t go so well. Maybe one of our other therapists will be a better fit for you!” If he’s lucky, that is. The only other thing he could imagine the email saying is,+
“Hey asshole, don’t use our services again. You traumatized one of our experts. Kindly fuck off forever.”
He snorts at the thought of that, the amusement grim.
He snorts at the thought of that, the amusement grim.
A small part of him wants to see what the email says, but another larger part of him just doesn’t care. Or doesn’t /want/ to care. Either way. It doesn’t fucking matter, right?
Right.
He tosses his phone back down and goes to finish scrubbing his dishes.
Right.
He tosses his phone back down and goes to finish scrubbing his dishes.
About halfway through his second round, he groans and sets the dishes down, dries his hands off, and stalks over to his phone again. He can’t stop thinking about that fucking email.
He turns his phone on and checks the message.
He turns his phone on and checks the message.
It /is/ from the therapy place, but it’s also directly from Dr. Kirishima.
He bites his lip, not sure if he wants to deal with whatever scathing remarks the doctor has for him. Finally, he forces himself to open the email.
He bites his lip, not sure if he wants to deal with whatever scathing remarks the doctor has for him. Finally, he forces himself to open the email.
𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳. 𝘉𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰𝘶,
𝘐 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴, 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘨𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯. 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘐’𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭.
𝘐 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴, 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘨𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯. 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘐’𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭.
𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘺 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘴𝘰 𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘤𝘩,+
𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥. 𝘍𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦.
𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺,
𝘋𝘳. 𝘒𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘢
𝘊𝘦𝘭𝘭: [𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥]
𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺,
𝘋𝘳. 𝘒𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘢
𝘊𝘦𝘭𝘭: [𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥]
Katsuki gawks at the email, trying to puzzle through everything it says. When he realizes that he got exactly what he maybe wanted, he can’t help but frown.
It’s weird, getting what you want.
It’s weird, getting what you want.
-*-*-*-
Some people aren't seeing the letter, so here's what it says. Sorry about that! I tried to use a fancy font generator to give it a little flair, and I guess it didn't work so well ^^' My bad!
-*-*-*-
Some people aren't seeing the letter, so here's what it says. Sorry about that! I tried to use a fancy font generator to give it a little flair, and I guess it didn't work so well ^^' My bad!
-*-*-*-
CW: more mild angst
-*-*-*-
For the next fifteen minutes or so, he sat on his couch, burritoed in a poofy blanket and staring at his phone. He was trying to decide how to handle the email. Part of him was tempted to simply not respond. It would be the easiest solution.
-*-*-*-
For the next fifteen minutes or so, he sat on his couch, burritoed in a poofy blanket and staring at his phone. He was trying to decide how to handle the email. Part of him was tempted to simply not respond. It would be the easiest solution.
The trouble with that was, he’d sort of /asked/ for something like this, right? He wanted a friend, he really did. And here was a stupid hot doctor offering his cell number like it was nothing.
He’d given it to Katsuki with the instructions to reach out whenever he liked, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t tempting.
As he sat, frowning down at his phone and trying to decide what to do, his leg bounced beneath the blanket. He wanted to reach out to Deku for advice, but the thought was immediately bitten short with a tight ache in his chest.
Right.
Right.
He couldn’t reach out to Deku. Not after the previous Christmas. Not after what he’d done.
Finally, he swallowed hard and pulled up his web browser app.
/Flip a coin,/ he typed in.
Finally, he swallowed hard and pulled up his web browser app.
/Flip a coin,/ he typed in.
If it was tails, he’d reach out. If it was heads, he’d ignore the email and pretend he’d never gotten it. While he waited for the browser to flip his virtual coin, his leg bounced faster. He narrowed his eyes.
Finally, the result popped up.
Tails.
Finally, the result popped up.
Tails.
Katsuki shook his head. /Okay. Again. Best two out of three. Tails again, I reach out./
He flipped the coin again. Tails.
Again. Best three of five.
Tails.
Frustrated, Katsuki jumped up from his couch and went to find a coin. He flipped it, too.
Fucking /tails/.
Fine!
He flipped the coin again. Tails.
Again. Best three of five.
Tails.
Frustrated, Katsuki jumped up from his couch and went to find a coin. He flipped it, too.
Fucking /tails/.
Fine!
So the universe /obviously/ wanted him to reach out. That many tails in a row had to mean /something/, right? Besides, he’d asked for this. Or wanted it. Or /something/. So what the fuck was he waiting for? Why was he hedging on reaching out?
He paced around his living room a few times before grumbling, grabbing his phone, and copying Dr. Kirishima’s number into his texting app. He hesitated only a few seconds longer before shooting off a text to the doctor.
/Hi./
There.
He’d fucking done it.
/Hi./
There.
He’d fucking done it.
He tossed his phone back onto the couch and resumed pacing, his stomach in knots and his palms sweaty. As he waited for the tell-tale vibrations of receiving a text, he became more and more anxious.
What if Dr. Kirishima hadn’t actually sent him the right number?
What if Dr. Kirishima hadn’t actually sent him the right number?
What if he didn’t recognize Katsuki’s number?
What if he just didn’t respond?
What if he /blocked/ Katsuki?
Seconds ticked by, each taking with it a piece of his sanity. He wasn’t typically the anxious type, but his therapist had his stomach in an absolute fit.
/Bzzz-bzz./
What if he just didn’t respond?
What if he /blocked/ Katsuki?
Seconds ticked by, each taking with it a piece of his sanity. He wasn’t typically the anxious type, but his therapist had his stomach in an absolute fit.
/Bzzz-bzz./
Katsuki jumped and stumbled over to pick his phone up. He checked the text app with shaking hands and saw a single text message.
/Hi! Mr. Bakugou, I assume?/
/Hi! Mr. Bakugou, I assume?/
He exhaled a heavy breath through his lips, his shoulders relaxing. All the tension seeped from his body. Okay. Okay, so his hot therapist had figured out who he was and had sent a response.
Katsuki could do this. He could /do this/.
He typed back, /Duh./
Katsuki could do this. He could /do this/.
He typed back, /Duh./
After hitting send, his heart flopped. Shit. Why had he said something so rude? He could’ve just said /yes/! For fuck’s sake! He--
A barrage of laughing emojis popped up, followed by, /I’m glad you texted me./
A barrage of laughing emojis popped up, followed by, /I’m glad you texted me./
That alone sent his heart swirling into his throat. “He’s glad!” he said to his empty apartment, hands shaking as he held his phone. “Fuck. He’s… he’s glad I texted him.”
Another text came in before Katsuki could respond.
/How was your day?/
Another text came in before Katsuki could respond.
/How was your day?/
He couldn’t help the sharp grin that spread over his lips. Kirishima was asking /about his day/. This was great! He… he felt almost calmer? Like… without the doctor’s face staring at him, he felt like he could actually reply rather than running away.
/Fine,/ he replied. Then, after a few seconds, he added, /Quiet. You?/ He sent the text and anxiously waited for a response.
/It was all right. Kind of an interesting day./ A smiley face followed. /Is texting easier for you, Mr. Bakugou?/
/It was all right. Kind of an interesting day./ A smiley face followed. /Is texting easier for you, Mr. Bakugou?/
The messages had a dual effect. For the first time since he had started texting with Kirishima, he was suddenly starkly reminded that this was his /therapist/. His heart clenched, and he dropped back onto the couch, suddenly grateful that /Doctor/ Kirishima couldn’t see his+
expression.
In addition, it brought reality back, and harshly. Katsuki wasn't talking to a friend. He was talking with his doctor, with someone /he was paying/ to help him, to talk to him.
The joy of actually talking to someone faded.
In addition, it brought reality back, and harshly. Katsuki wasn't talking to a friend. He was talking with his doctor, with someone /he was paying/ to help him, to talk to him.
The joy of actually talking to someone faded.
/Yeah./ The response was a bit clipped, but maybe Kirishima wouldn’t notice.
/I’m glad,/ was the almost immediate reply. /I want you to try and text me as often as you need, okay?/
/I’m glad,/ was the almost immediate reply. /I want you to try and text me as often as you need, okay?/
/Sure./
He set his phone aside and pulled his blanket back around himself, ignoring his phone when it buzzed again.
He set his phone aside and pulled his blanket back around himself, ignoring his phone when it buzzed again.
The next morning, Katsuki woke before his alarm. He wasn’t sure he’d actually slept. His eyes felt heavy, and he just wanted to roll back over and bury himself in the warm blankets. In that moment, he felt like a hissing hedgehog.
He just wanted everyone to leave him alone. Even though no one was around, he wanted to be left to his own devices.
Okay, so maybe he didn’t want /everyone/ to leave him alone. Maybe it was more like he wanted /everything/ to just go away. His thoughts, his worries, his leftover feeling of dread and desolation from the night before… he wanted them all gone.
The noise in his head was too much to handle. Katsuki curled in on himself and grabbed his head, holding it tight and closing his eyes, as if that might help make the churning thoughts stop.
In that moment, he was half-tempted to text Kirishima. His therapist had said to reach out when he needed something, but…
But what if the something he needed was to be left alone? What if he needed the noise to /stop/? What if… what if the very person he was supposed to reach out to was the one who had instigated this sudden wave of uncertainty and fear?
/No./ The thought was louder than all the others. /I ain’t fucking afraid. I don’t fucking do fear./
He rolled over and glowered at his phone. Late last night, he’d finally given in and checked to see what Kirishima had sent him. The text had ended up being nothing but flexing arm emojis and a smiley face. That was it. That was all the fucker had sent him.
Katsuki sighed and finally reached for his phone.
/I ain’t afraid./
So why was he hesitating? Why was he refusing to reach out when he actually needed to talk to someone? And how the fuck would he start the conversation in the first place?
/I ain’t afraid./
So why was he hesitating? Why was he refusing to reach out when he actually needed to talk to someone? And how the fuck would he start the conversation in the first place?
He hesitated a few seconds longer before typing out, /Angry. Don’t wanna talk to anyone. Loud thoughts./
It was about all he could manage. If he tried harder, sure, maybe he’d be able to come up with something a little less abrupt, but a mental block of sorts was keeping him from really being eloquent. He couldn’t explain why.
The fact was that he was actually trying, and he had to be happy with that, even though he wasn’t.
Not much actually made him happy these days, though.
The response was surprisingly fast.
/What are you thinking about?/
Not much actually made him happy these days, though.
The response was surprisingly fast.
/What are you thinking about?/
It was a simple question, and he probably should have expected it. Now that it was in front of him, though, his stomach clamped down, empty and cold.
“You,” he whispered, trying to ignore the angry tears stinging his eyes.
Fuck.
“You,” he whispered, trying to ignore the angry tears stinging his eyes.
Fuck.
-*-*-*-
CW: mentions of self harm in the form of hot wax, angst, pining
-*-*-*-
CW: mentions of self harm in the form of hot wax, angst, pining
-*-*-*-
He needed to say /something/. Just not that. Anything but the truth.
Telling Kirishima the truth would end in disaster. Katsuki wasn’t sure he could handle revealing that part of himself. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
But he needed to say something.
Telling Kirishima the truth would end in disaster. Katsuki wasn’t sure he could handle revealing that part of himself. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
But he needed to say something.
Leaving Kirishima on read just wasn’t fair to him.
Finally, he replied, /It’s just noise. Makes me angry. Can’t get it quiet./ It was the truth, even if not the whole truth. The noise and thoughts in his head always seemed to piss him off more and more. He couldn’t get them to be quiet long enough to think.
Texting with Kirishima was… helping a bit, though, surprisingly. It gave him enough of a distraction that the noise in his head was slowly subsiding.
His therapist’s response was almost immediate. /When there’s too much noise, what do you to to help quiet it?/
His therapist’s response was almost immediate. /When there’s too much noise, what do you to to help quiet it?/
At least he wasn’t trying to give Katsuki advice without asking what he usually did to cope. Useless advice was, in his mind, one of the most annoying things that a doctor could offer. But Dr. Kirishima seemed to at least understand that he needed to know which direction Katsuki+
went when his thoughts became too much to handle.
It was a good start, a good way to help him figure out how to work through his anger and the buzzing, hissing noise.
It was a good start, a good way to help him figure out how to work through his anger and the buzzing, hissing noise.
The problem was, one of Katsuki’s favorite ways of coping wasn’t exactly something he wanted to share. Not… not really. It wasn’t... well, it could be seen as /problematic/, to say the least.
He understood that Dr. Kirishima worked with people who might have problematic tendencies, but that didn’t make sharing this intimate part of himself any easier.
He swallowed hard, thumbs hovering over the screen of his phone as he tried to decide how to answer.
He swallowed hard, thumbs hovering over the screen of his phone as he tried to decide how to answer.
He could lie, of course, but Katsuki wasn’t a liar. Omitting parts of the truth was one thing, but outright lying never sat well with him.
/I should just tell him. What’s the worst that could happen? I’m already alone./
/I should just tell him. What’s the worst that could happen? I’m already alone./
That much was true. The worst he could imagine was Kirishima deciding not to help him. If that happened, then another therapist would be recommended, and Katsuki could move on.
He hated even the mere thought of that. He didn’t want to explain what he did to get through the noise. He didn’t want to risk losing Kirishima. Besides, it... it was… awkward.
And probably not something Dr. Kirishima wanted to hear. Even if he’d probably heard worse.
And probably not something Dr. Kirishima wanted to hear. Even if he’d probably heard worse.
Still, as he sat and stared down at his phone, he got the sense that his therapist wasn’t going to text him and pressure him into a response, but that he was still present and waiting patiently. It was… weird.
He’d never felt that abstract connection before, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.
Kirishima was waiting. He had to say something.
Finally, he replied, /I don’t wanna tell you./
/I won’t judge you,/ was the near-immediate reply. /I promise, for what it’s worth./
Kirishima was waiting. He had to say something.
Finally, he replied, /I don’t wanna tell you./
/I won’t judge you,/ was the near-immediate reply. /I promise, for what it’s worth./
Katsuki inhaled slowly through his teeth. The wash of cold air helped clear his head. He hadn’t even realized he hadn’t inhaled in a while. He ran his hand through his hair, his palms sweaty. Telling Kirishima had two outcomes: Either the therapist would think he was a freak, or+
he would stick to his promise and not judge him.
Either way, this wasn’t something that Katsuki could really get in trouble for. It was weird, and it was definitely a sign that something probably wasn’t right in his head, but it wasn’t illegal. And he /had/ signed up for this.
Either way, this wasn’t something that Katsuki could really get in trouble for. It was weird, and it was definitely a sign that something probably wasn’t right in his head, but it wasn’t illegal. And he /had/ signed up for this.
He needed the help.
He needed the contact with /someone/.
Opening himself up was the first step to achieving… whatever it was he needed to achieve.
/Fucking fine,/ he texted back.
He needed the contact with /someone/.
Opening himself up was the first step to achieving… whatever it was he needed to achieve.
/Fucking fine,/ he texted back.
Kirishima wasn’t pressuring him into explaining. He was just offering up the opportunity for Katsuki to explain, and well, if the hot daddy wanted to know, Katsuki would tell him.
Just hopefully it wouldn’t make things too awkward.
He sucked in another refreshing breath, blowing it out slowly to try and quiet his frantic heart.
He sucked in another refreshing breath, blowing it out slowly to try and quiet his frantic heart.
/I… I touch myself, and I use hot wax. It helps make things quiet./ His thumb hovered over /send/ for a half a heartbeat before he decided, /Fuck it,/ and sent the message. His breath caught in his chest, eyes glued to the phone as he awaited the response.
Kirishima was so fucking /hot/. And, in a way, he felt like Katsuki’s last chance at a true friend. How he replied could change everything. Katsuki wanted acceptance, but he wasn’t foolish enough to believe that his therapist would see it as anything more than how he coped with+
the static and noise.
His phone vibrated. /Doesn’t that hurt?/
Katsuki blew the breath he’d been holding out, his lips buzzing with the air. “Fuck. Yes, you idiot. It hurts. That’s the fucking /point/.” Not that he planned to reply with that, but it was his first thought.
His phone vibrated. /Doesn’t that hurt?/
Katsuki blew the breath he’d been holding out, his lips buzzing with the air. “Fuck. Yes, you idiot. It hurts. That’s the fucking /point/.” Not that he planned to reply with that, but it was his first thought.
But he kind of understood. Kirishima was probably trying to express concern for how Katsuki was handling his internal turmoil. Yeah, he already knew it wasn’t the best way to deal with it. It worked, though.
And he had the scars to prove it.
And he had the scars to prove it.
The hot wax helped distract him, and he associated the distraction with pleasure by masturbating. In a way, he’d been trying to train himself out of letting his thoughts spiral.
Realizing he hadn’t actually replied to Kirishima’s last message, Katsuki sent off a quick, /Yeah, it fucking hurts. But it helps, too./
/Would you be willing to try something less painful?/
Katsuki scoffed. /Pain helps make things quiet. Settles the noise. Not sure what else would work./
/Well, have you had as much noise since you reached out to me?/
Katsuki scoffed. /Pain helps make things quiet. Settles the noise. Not sure what else would work./
/Well, have you had as much noise since you reached out to me?/
He paused, frowning. /No./ When the reply was sent, his stomach tightened.
“It’s because you’re hotter than hell,” he muttered, exhaling a heavy sigh through his nose. God damn, he was sighing so much lately. It was almost annoying. +
“It’s because you’re hotter than hell,” he muttered, exhaling a heavy sigh through his nose. God damn, he was sighing so much lately. It was almost annoying. +
“And because…” Because, for the first time in years, he was talking to someone as he would a close friend.
And it did help.
Then again, anything could be distracting; it was when he was left alone, to his own devices, that his thoughts got out of control. Right now, even+
And it did help.
Then again, anything could be distracting; it was when he was left alone, to his own devices, that his thoughts got out of control. Right now, even+
though he was internalizing things as they happened, the noise had faded enough for him to function.
/I want you to try reaching out to me instead of hurting yourself. Can you do that for me?/
/I want you to try reaching out to me instead of hurting yourself. Can you do that for me?/
“Fuck,” he whispered, pain blooming in his chest. He was so confused, so frustrated. Kirishima was /hot/, and now he was asking to be Katsuki’s anchor during times of turmoil, during times when he would normally use jacking off as a way to get around his own mental hangups.
He wanted to ask if he could touch himself while they spoke, but decided it might be best if he didn’t say anything. Kirishima definitely wouldn’t be comfortable with that. He probably wouldn’t understand how much stroking his dick helped Katsuki return to the present.
It might even chase him away.
Instead of asking for permission, he unzipped his pants and snuck his free hand down to palm at his flaccid cock. As he rubbed himself, he used voice-to-text to help make things a bit easier.
Instead of asking for permission, he unzipped his pants and snuck his free hand down to palm at his flaccid cock. As he rubbed himself, he used voice-to-text to help make things a bit easier.
He could do this. He could use Kirishima as a new anchor, could get rid of the wax and the pain. If Kirishima wanted him to stop hurting himself, then he would.
“Okay, fine. I’ll fucking do that. But if we stop talking, the noise will come back. The pain helps keep the noise away.” He sent the text after checking for inevitable spelling errors.
It was true, at least.
It was true, at least.
The pain would stay with him a lot longer than talking with Dr. Kirishima. When it soaked through his skin and muscles, the searing burning of the wax helped his mind stay distracted from the ever-present noise.
/What do you need me to do? What do you want to talk about?/
/What do you need me to do? What do you want to talk about?/
At least he had his therapist’s undivided attention. It was… nice. Like he actually cared about Katsuki. Like they were actually friends.
He clenched his free hand around his half-hard dick, his heart falling as the thought hit him like a bucket of ice water. The heat in his groin faded.
/Does he actually care about me, or is it just because I pay him to?/
/Does he actually care about me, or is it just because I pay him to?/
Katsuki pulled his hand out of his pants. /Forget it./ The text was simple. /I’ll be fine. Thanks for your help./
He tossed his phone aside and leaned back, closing his eyes and trying not to think about his therapist, even as another incoming text vibrated from his phone.
He tossed his phone aside and leaned back, closing his eyes and trying not to think about his therapist, even as another incoming text vibrated from his phone.
Replying right now would probably be worse than his silence. If he started opening up about how he wanted to cope with his anger issues, he’d just be baring himself to more pain, to yet another opportunity for someone to get close to him only to inevitably leave.
The worst part was that he knew, deep down, that Kirishima was only talking to him because he was being paid to do so.
And it fucking hurt to admit that to himself.
Another text vibrated his phone.
And it fucking hurt to admit that to himself.
Another text vibrated his phone.
Katsuki growled and grabbed it, checking to see what his stupid, dumb, hot therapist had said.
/Are you sure? I’m happy to help however I can./
“Right,” he mumbled. “I wish.”
/Are you sure? I’m happy to help however I can./
“Right,” he mumbled. “I wish.”
That was followed by, /I’ll be here anytime you need me, okay? I don’t want to pressure you into anything, but I need you to know you’re not alone./
Katsuki’s chest ached at the sentiment. It was sweet. Probably not necessarily true--at least not in the way he wanted--but sweet.
Katsuki’s chest ached at the sentiment. It was sweet. Probably not necessarily true--at least not in the way he wanted--but sweet.
/Thanks,/ he sent back.
It wasn’t much, but at least then he wouldn’t be reading Kirishima on read. He’d initially wanted to avoid replying right now, but a thank you couldn’t hurt, right?
It wasn’t much, but at least then he wouldn’t be reading Kirishima on read. He’d initially wanted to avoid replying right now, but a thank you couldn’t hurt, right?
A thought came to mind, and he decided to run with it. Maybe it would sound weird, but maybe he could get Kirishima to agree. Maybe.
/Can you send me a picture? Just… you know, so I can get used to your face./
/Can you send me a picture? Just… you know, so I can get used to your face./
Okay, that sounded dumb as shit. It made him sound creepy as hell, too. He wanted a picture, though. For selfish reasons, mostly, but it would still be nice to have Kirishima’s face around. Maybe then he could pretend like they were actually friends.
And maybe…
And maybe…
Maybe he could even pretend like they were more.
