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Todoroki Shouto has some Secrets.
They’re not secrets in the way that he once coloured Natsuo’s hair with crayons while his brother was sleeping and let Touya take the blame for it. He had been four years old, and so afraid of getting into trouble that he had just clutched Fuyumi’s dress while his elder brothers got into a scuffle over Natsuo’s rainbow-coloured hair.
They’re Secrets in the way that while his university friends are at book club and spending their time making out with each other in the clubroom, Shouto is dodging spells that would have him paralyzed on his back for the next half hour while his sparring partner jeers gleefully at him from above.
It doesn’t happen often, Shouto’s top of his class when it comes to dueling, but it’s rather annoying when it does.
So, no. There’s no time for book club or kissing for Shouto, though he’s never been much of a reader anyway, and is even much less of a kisser. He thinks he much prefers flinging fireballs and shooting icicles at target dummies to reading and kissing.
Training to be a full-fledged warlock to one day take over his family’s business is Shouto’s first Secret.
Shouto has another Secret that comes in the form of a man with a spitfire personality.
Or well, it’s not quite accurate to say that he’s a man , and Shouto is sure Bakugou will take offense if Shouto refers to him as such.
It all started when Shouto was in his second year of university. He had been very late to his Summoning class and he had not completed his assignment. Their assignment being to summon a low-level demon, forge a temporary contract with it, and bring it to class.
It was easy enough, one that Shouto can complete with his eyes closed. His mother was something of an expert on the subject and she had taught him her tips and tricks in detail before they were separated.
But Shouto had spent the night before staying up too late watching videos of adorable kittens rolling around on soft blankets that eventually spiraled into conspiracy theories about how the government was spying on them through their food. The consequence being, of course, Shouto waking up late on the day the assignment was due. He had originally decided to only summon the demon an hour before class because he didn’t want to take care of it if he had done it any earlier, a decision that was coming to bite him in the ass.
In the midst of Shouto trying to stick his leg into the right pants hole while also chanting the incantation for a summoning spell, he had made a mistake.
Shouto hadn’t even noticed, too occupied with fighting his sweater that refuses to be put on easily when he’s on a time crunch. He had conjured a small cage after finally wrangling his sweater into submission, whirling around to grab the small imp he had summoned and stuff it inside, when he first noticed the other presence in his room.
Eyes that sparkled like carmines had blinked at him. A demon had been sitting in midair, legs crossed while leaning back, spiky blond head propped on a finely manicured hand. His forearms are dyed a deep red, as if they were dipped in wine. Curving ram horns framed either side of his face and a long black tail tipped in the shape of a heart flicked languidly behind him. He had been dressed in practically nothing, exposing smooth planes of milky skin with only scraps of leather clinging strategically to certain areas for “decency”.
Shouto had certainly summoned a demon—but a demon that was, decidedly, not an imp.
He didn’t think twice before shooting off a binding spell. A pair of cuffs connected to a thick chain shot forth and clamped down on the demon’s wrists while the chain wrapped around the demon’s body. Shouto didn’t wait for the spell to take hold, confident that it would do its job. He sprinted out of his room and towards class, cage swinging wildly in hand.
Only hours later when Shouto returned from class (assignment submitted with flying colours) did he find out that the spell did not take hold like he expected it would. The demon was still in his room, but he had not been bound. He had been lounging on Shouto’s bed as he leafed through one of Shouto’s Transfiguration textbooks.
“Todoroki Shouto,” the demon had drawled as he closed the book with a quiet snap. His voice was deep and smooth, like molten honey dripping into Shouto’s ears. He had traced one clawed hand across Shouto’s name on the cover of the book as he spoke. Dangling from his other hand, Shouto recognized the cuffs that he had conjured before. Its physical form had been broken down to its very magical essence, and the demon had been nibbling at it as if it’s nothing but a tasty snack.
The demon had looked Shouto up and down, eyes sparkling with mischief as a lazy smile stretched across his painted lips.
“Let’s talk, you and me.”
♥ ♥ ♥
The succubus had propositioned Shouto, sort of. In exchange for some of Shouto’s magical power everyday, Bakugou would assist Shouto with whatever he needed.
Shouto had been adamantly against it at first, until Bakugou handed him his Transfiguration homework that he had been struggling with for the past five days. Every question now had an answer, written in a neat scrawl in the allocated space. Shouto’s own attempt at one of the questions had been crossed out as well, Bakugou’s answer squeezed into what blank space was left—with a little note calling Shouto an idiot.
“For all I know all the answers could be wrong,” Shouto had accused, eyes narrowed, even though he had a sneaking suspicion that the answers were all correct.
Bakugou had only arched an eyebrow at him.
Still unwilling to trust his gut instinct, Shouto had asked the smartest person in his class for a copy of her answers. Yaoyorozu replied near instantaneously with a picture of her homework attached, and as Shouto cross-checked her answers with Bakugou’s, sure enough they were a perfect match.
“Told ya it’s child’s play to me,” Bakugou’s smirk had been so smug, Shouto had been tempted to reject his proposal then and there.
But upon seeing that Shouto was not taking the bait, Bakugou had thrown in another offer to sweeten the deal.
“What’s your favourite food?” The demon had asked, rolling onto his back, arms spread and peering up at Shouto from beneath long lashes.
It had been Shouto’s turn to arch an eyebrow at the demon before carefully answering, “Cold soba.”
Bakugou barked out a laugh. “Lame,” was his response before he slinked off, because there can be no other way to describe the fluid and effortless way he had moved, to the kitchen and made the best cold soba that Shouto had ever tasted in his life.
“Well, little mortal?” Bakugou’s smile had been cheshire-like, exposing sharp canines that glinted dangerously.
Shouto had stared down the succubus after slurping up the last of the soba. He had been the face of calm as they locked eyes but internally Shouto was still questioning his life and how it had come to this point where he was seriously considering giving in to a demon’s sweet words just so he can have another taste of that heavenly soba. He was not that weak of a man! To be swayed by a tray of soba with the perfect combination of bitter and saltiness!
“Make me another plate and it’s a deal.”
Shouto did not offer to enter an official contract with Bakugou, and the demon had not brought it up either. They would feed each other twice a day—Shouto with some of his magical energy, and Bakugou with actual food that isn’t fucking junk , in the demon’s own words when he found out that all Shouto had in his kitchen was soba of the highest quality and frozen meals.
They don’t have to initiate physical contact for the transfer of energy, much to Shouto’s surprise. Bakugou had explained that only low-level succubi need to absorb their prey’s energy through sex. Shouto only had to manifest a condensed concentration of energy for him and Bakugou can consume it, much like how he had snacked on the binding spell Shouto had attempted to restrain him with.
They had shook hands upon ironing out the finer details of their arrangement and Shouto could not help but notice how small Bakugou’s hand had been in his own.
And so Bakugou, succubus, had become Shouto’s second Secret.
♥ ♥ ♥
Shouto finds out that cohabiting with a demon is not as awful as everyone makes it out to be. Bakugou had moved in on the very same day they forged their not-contract. And other than kicking Shouto out of his own room because he refuses to sleep on anything other than a bed, thus banishing Shouto to the lumpy couch in the living room, Bakugou’s a rather good housemate.
For the first couple of days, they keep to themselves, only interacting during mealtimes. This is fine with Shouto, he’s busy enough juggling responsibilities from both sides of his life; he doesn’t need more distractions added to his plate.
On the third day, Bakugou hands him a rolled up scroll when Shouto’s putting on his shoes. Shouto scans through the list and is mildly surprised to find that it’s a grocery list.
“Don’t you dare come back without buying everything,” the demon had demanded with a huff, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m sick and tired of making soba for your boring ass.”
Shouto thinks that Bakugou’s being unnecessarily rude to his beloved soba but does as he’s told, returning with armfuls of grocery bags. For the first time since he moved into his apartment, Shouto’s fridge and cabinets are filled to the brim with all sorts of ingredients. Bakugou had looked very pleased once everything was put away, and his satisfaction had bled over to their dinner that night—grilled salmon with a side of roasted vegetables.
“This is really good,” Shouto had said, eyes wide with wonder as he devoured the dish.
“Of fucking course it is,” Bakugou is the picture of smugness and Shouto thinks that at least in this regard, it’s very much well deserved.
Bakugou requests more things—kitchen appliances that Shouto’s lacking. Shouto’s only too happy to comply now that he’s had a taste of what Bakugou is capable of and they sit on the couch together, scrolling through a shopping app on Shouto’s laptop and adding item after item into the cart. Shouto can tell that the demon is endlessly intrigued by the concept of online shopping. Bakugou can’t quite keep the slightly awed look off his face when Shouto explains to him that the items they ordered will be sent to his apartment after a few days.
Now armed with a fully-equipped kitchen, Bakugou becomes meticulous when preparing Shouto’s meals, always making sure that it’s a balance of healthy foods while still being mouth-wateringly delicious. Shouto never fails to be amazed by the extent of his culinary prowess and the demon always looks so pleased with himself whenever Shouto showers him with compliments about how tasty his food is.
“The food is the only good thing that you mortals came up with in the last century,” Bakugou says when Shouto asks him about his passion in cooking over their dinner of perfectly seared steak.
Predictably enough, succubi don’t need human food to survive and Bakugou indulges in it simply because he enjoys it. Shouto thinks he lucked out that of all vices, Bakugou’s is gluttony.
Which leads Shouto to his next question, “Does everyone’s magical energy taste different?”
Bakugou doesn’t answer at first, taking his time to cut his steak. He looks at Shouto through hooded eyes, a wicked grin on his face while he pops the piece of sliced meat in his mouth. The grease coats his lips, leaving them shiny and making Shouto’s throat suddenly feel as parched as the desert. He’s so taken aback by his sudden thirst that he nearly misses Bakugou’s coy answer, “Why’d you think I was so insistent with wanting yours?”
The demon laughs brightly when Shouto drops his eyes and stares resolutely at his own steak, his ears feeling just a tad bit hot.
Bakugou’s meals started with only breakfast and dinner. When he realized that Shouto’s still eating “junk” while he’s at university, Bakugou had cursed him out in an ancient language that Shouto could barely comprehend and started preparing lunch for him as well. Shouto had tried telling Bakugou that it wasn’t necessary but the succubus had turned on Shouto, brandishing the gleaming kitchen cleaver with murder in his eyes, his tail stiff and sticking straight up in the air.
“You put that shit in your body and it’ll spoil your taste! I’m not gonna fucking let that happen so sit down, eat your damned salad, drink your damned juice, and don’t tell me what to do!”
His friends were scandalized, to say the least, when Shouto started bringing packed bentos to their downtime in between classes; were shocked into silence when Shouto opened the bento box and it wasn’t soba inside.
Frankly, Shouto thinks his friends are being a little rude to his beloved soba too.
“Look at how cute everything is! The sesame on the rice makes up a cat face!”
“That’s an aisai bento if I’ve ever seen one.”
“Todoroki, you lucky dog!”
“Whoever made this certainly knew what they were doing, the ratio of rice to side dishes is just right and they’ve even integrated the ideal colour scheme of a bento . What effort!”
“Is this the privilege of a pretty boy?! Pretty boys get pretty bentos ?!”
His university friends aren’t privy to his double life as a warlock-to-be and wanting to keep things that way, Shouto refrains from bringing up succubi who are conveniently good at cooking and just tells them that he got a new roommate who’s a culinary arts major.
But this little fib creates another problem in itself, because now his friends want to meet this mysterious new roommate who’s preparing handmade bentos for Shouto.
Shouto is very against this, for obvious reasons. But the universe conspires against him as it always does and Bakugou catches wind of the situation.
“Shouto. Bring me to your school,” the demon had demanded, depositing himself atop Shouto like an oversized cat when Shouto's doing his best to melt into the couch after a long evening of wrestling with enchanted roses.
The damned flowers would sing in the most obnoxious, high-pitched tone whenever anyone approached them and there had been close to a hundred of the cursed things. Shouto’s ears are still ringing and he doesn’t think he’ll get the grating tune of “Ring Around the Rosie” out of his brain anytime soon. The cloying smell of the roses lingering persistently in his nostrils only serves to make him feel more ill.
“No,” Shouto mumbles, one foot already in dreamland. With Bakugou’s warm weight on top of him like a heavy blanket, he’s losing his battle to stay awake with every passing second.
“Why not?”
Shouto must have said something, something amusing maybe, because he hears Bakugou’s laughter dance on the edge of his consciousness.
“Quite the possessive one, aren’t you?”
Shouto doesn’t quite understand Bakugou’s question, but he feels a wave of lethargy that smells oddly like caramel wash over him and he decides that he’s done with thinking for the night. His headache ebbs away and Shouto allows himself to be pulled under into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When Shouto wakes the next morning, he finds Bakugou curled up on his side on top of him, his head pillowed on Shouto’s chest. Shouto’s hands are resting on the small of Bakugou’s back, fitting snugly in the little groove at the end of his spine.
Bakugou looks…soft, bathed in the gentle early morning light filtering through the curtains. Even his more demonic features don’t take away from how he looks like he can do no wrong, even though Shouto knows it to be far from the truth. He’s always on the end of Bakugou’s cunning smiles and mischievous laughter when the succubus wants to rile him up after all. The sleeping demon breathes in a steady rhythm, breaths whistling quietly from between his teeth. Shouto’s eyes are inadvertently drawn to Bakugou’s lips, slightly parted and painted in the palettes of dawn.
Pink. Kissable.
…
Wait.
Shouto doesn’t realize that he’s been staring until red eyes stare back at him.
“Awake now, sleepyhead?” Bakugou shifts to lie on his stomach with a delicate yawn. He folds his hands under his chin to rest his head on them. “How’d you sleep?”
Shouto blinks dumbly, eyes still trained on those rosy lips. It takes a minute for him to register that he’s been asked a question and heat rushes to nest in Shouto’s cheeks when he sees the look of amusement on Bakugou’s face.
“Fine,” Shouto replies gruffly, voice rough and tinged with embarrassment. The sleepy fog in his mind clears and Shouto remembers the unnatural wave of fatigue that had taken hold of him the night before. “Did you do something, last night?”
“Oh~ So you noticed, did ya? Good job,” Bakugou lifts a hand and pats Shouto’s cheek. His tail swishes lazily behind him. “Succubi have natural sleep enhancing qualities. Just being near us guarantees a good night’s sleep–makes it all the easier for us to steal your energy, of course.”
Bakugou pulls his hand back and Shouto stares transfixed at the silvery wisp of magical essence that clings to his fingertip. Bakugou promptly sticks his finger in his mouth and Shouto’s entire face turns a bright red that could rival a tomato.
“What the fuck!” Bakugou screeches when the left side of Shouto’s face bursts into flames in the next second.
♥ ♥ ♥
Shouto thinks that it’s only fair that he grants Bakugou’s wish to visit his university since the demon helped him get a good night’s sleep after the disaster with the roses.
It’s obvious that the demon is excited—not that it stops Bakugou from grumbling petulantly when Shouto pulls a sweater over the demon’s spiky blond head. It’s a navy blue sweater and the smallest one that Shouto owns, yet it still looks too big on Bakugou.
“I don’t see what the fucking problem is—My clothes are fine!” Bakugou grumbles as Shouto rolls the right sleeve of the sweater up to his wrist.
“We’re going to get stopped for public indecency,” Shouto replies gravely while he rolls the left sleeve up as well.
“You mortals are such fucking prudes, I’ve got all the important bits covered!”
Shouto thinks that Bakugou needs to take a proper look at himself in the mirror. He’s gotten a little used to it after spending months with the succubus but it still makes Shouto jolt in surprise when he sees Bakugou’s ass pointed straight at him when the demon is nearby and bent over doing one thing or another.
Yeah, Shouto definitely can’t allow Bakugou to leave the house in his usual getup that he calls clothes.
It takes some more convincing to get Bakugou into a pair of pants. Once again, Shouto’s sweats are too big on the demon but Shouto makes do by tying the drawstrings as tight as they can go. His tail has to be tucked into the sweats, earning Shouto yet another round of disgruntled complaints.
After casting an invisibility spell on Bakugou’s horns and making sure that their cover story about Bakugou being Shouto’s culinary arts major roommate matches, they’re out the door and heading towards Shouto’s university.
Shouto actually has the day off from classes so they’re able to explore the campus grounds freely. The succubus roams as he pleases, poking his head here and there, but never straying too far from Shouto. His gaze lingers on the campus cafe when they pass it and Shouto decides that it’s about the right time for breakfast.
He orders a dark mocha frappe with extra whipped cream and a sugared doughnut for Bakugou and a plain black and a croissant for himself. As much as Bakugou harps on him about being healthy and having a balanced meal, Shouto has noticed that the demon himself has quite the sweet tooth—he’s caught him snacking on nothing but sugar on more than one occasion, much to Shouto’s bewilderment.
Bakugou doesn’t complain about Shouto’s order for him, which he considers a win in itself.
He’s about to help the demon wipe off some sugar that’s gotten on his cheek when Shouto is bowled forward in his seat, nearly knocking over his cup of coffee.
“Todoroki! What are you doing here!”
Kirishima has his arms around Shouto’s neck, hugging him from behind and putting all of his weight on him. Shouto swears that he feels his back crack from the pressure and he’s having trouble breathing.
“Todoroki-kun! Good morning!” Comes Iida’s greeting from somewhere behind Kirishima.
Kirishima finally releases Shouto from his chokehold and he’s able to breathe again. He turns to see Iida approaching from behind Kirishima, with Uraraka bringing up the rear.
“Never thought I’d see Todoroki-kun awake before noon on his day off,” Uraraka teases as she waves at him. Her eyes widen and she starts waving more enthusiastically. “Oh! Who’s your friend?”
Shouto turns to look at Bakugou who’s already looking at him, an amused smile playing on his lips. He turns back to look at his friends who have fallen silent, all their eyes trained on Bakugou curiously.
Shouto lets out a long sigh.
“This is Bakugou, my roommate.”
It takes a moment for the information to process and all hell breaks loose when it does.
“So you’re the roommate that Todoroki-kun’s been talking about. My name’s Uraraka, it’s nice to finally meet you!” She drops into the seat next to Bakugou’s, a bright and gummy smile curving her lips upwards.
“I’m Iida. Well met, Bakugou-kun!”
“Kirishima,” the redhead introduces simply. “It’s so manly how you’re always making sure Todoroki’s eating properly…your bentos look so delicious too! I always want to have a bite but Todoroki never shares!”
“Does he now?” Shouto feels Bakugou’s eyes on him, which he pointedly ignores. He also pretends he can’t feel the way the back of his neck grows warm at being caught out.
“I can make some for you guys too,” Bakugou offers casually with a little shrug.
Something ugly rears its head in Shouto’s chest when he hears Bakugou’s words. He’s so caught off-guard by the foreign feeling that it actually knocks the breath out of his chest. Shouto feels like a boat lost at sea, nauseous with the desperation to say something to stop whatever’s happening with Bakugou and his friends when Bakugou scoots his chair closer to him and snakes his arms around Shouto’s own arm.
Shouto stays frozen in his seat when Bakugou makes a show of leaning his head on his shoulder. The scent of caramel, saccharine and overwhelming, fills his senses again, burrowing its way into his very being.
“But Shouto’s gonna get mad at me. He’s a bit of a weirdo when it comes to my food, gets all possessive and shit,” Bakugou squeezes Shouto’s arm with a laugh.
Uraraka squeals. “Are you guys…” She lifts both her index fingers and slowly brings them together. “Y’know~”
Bakugou laughs again. “He wishes.”
And Shouto realizes, as he sits amongst his friends, there but not really there, only hyperaware of Bakugou’s warmth pressed to his side and how soft his hair feels brushing against his jaw despite how spiky it looks, that he does wish it.
Shouto really, really, really wishes it.
♥ ♥ ♥
Shouto’s third Secret is that he’s a little bit (a lot) in love with Bakugou.
He doesn’t know when or how it happened. But now that he’s conscious of it, it’s the only thing that he can think of. Bakugou plagues his mind constantly, and their inhabiting the same tiny space of Shouto’s apartment only stokes his feelings further.
He’s there, sitting on the couch next to Shouto, half-teasing, half-teaching him while he helps him with his Potions homework. He’s there, in Shouto’s bedroom, lounging on Shouto’s bed, dressed in the satin night clothes that he insisted Shouto buy for him when they went shopping for clothes that actually fit him. He’s there, one leg propped up on the edge of the tub, grinning at Shouto like he’s got a secret he won’t tell as he grooms his tail with his pierced tongue. He’s there, squeezing his way into a space that doesn’t exist when Shouto’s got one arm crossed under his head and trying to sleep, abandoning the bed that he kicked Shouto out of, only for him to come and cuddle up with Shouto on the couch instead.
The kitchen is the worst of them all. It’s Bakugou’s domain, and Shouto sees him everywhere in the little corner where he prepares their meals. There’s a song that he always hums when he works, his tail swaying gently to the rhythm. Shouto even caught him singing quietly under his breath once but he stopped when he noticed Shouto watching.
Bakugou’s there, but not; so close but not close enough; like an itch that Shouto can’t scratch but desperately wants—no, needs to.
Shouto’s sanity is being stretched to its limits and he thinks he might snap if he doesn’t do something to escape out of this strange limbo their relationship has stagnated into.
Which is how he finds himself, a week before Valentine’s Day, holed up in Midoriya’s place making magical energy “chocolates” for the object of his newly discovered affections.
Shouto got the idea when the bakery he usually frequents to pick up the curry buns that Bakugou likes put up a sign for special-order Valentine’s Day chocolates. He had stood and stared at the sign for a long time, until one of the girls came up and asked him if he would like to order a box. He declined and purchased the curry buns he came for. But the image of the heart-shaped box and the assorted chocolates within didn’t leave his mind.
He’d first considered making his own chocolates but quickly discarded that idea. Shouto’s not a cook by any means and he’s more likely to burn down his apartment if he even tries it. Besides, Bakugou’s a much better cook than he is and can probably make better chocolates with his eyes closed.
Buying a box from a store is out of the question too. Shouto wants something handmade, like the meals that Bakugou prepares for him everyday. It was then that Shouto realized that he’s never made the effort to make his meals for Bakugou prettier, when Bakugou’s always made sure the bentos he packs for Shouto makes his friends green with envy. Even when it’s just the both of them having breakfast or dinner, Bakugou’s dishes are always expertly plated.
Shouto decides that he’s going to make his meals for Bakugou prettier too—granted there’s only so much he can do with his magical energy. But he’s going to try because Bakugou deserves it.
It’s the perfect Valentine’s gift. Shouto already knows that the demon enjoys the taste of his magical energy, so now he just has to mold them into heart shapes, which is proving a lot more difficult than Shouto anticipated.
“Todoroki-kun.”
Shouto grunts in response, too focused on trying to get his magical energy to conform into a heart shape that’s at least halfway respectable.
“Can you explain the situation to me again?”
Shouto sighs and lets the wonky ball of energy disperse. The silvery wisps sink back into his skin and Shouto has to fight the pout that threatens to form on his bottom lip.
“Midoriya. This will be the third time we’re going through this.”
“Forgive me for having trouble comprehending that you’ve been living with a succubus while not being contracted officially for the past year without telling anyone and along the way you’ve developed feelings of the romantic nature for said succubus and now you’re planning to confess to the same succubus and form a proper contract with him!”
“See, your understanding is just fine,” Shouto has to stifle a smile at the utter look of horror on his friend’s face. As always, it’s impressive how Midoriya manages to say so many words in one breath.
“Are you sure you’re not charmed?”
“Wasn’t cursebreaking the first thing you did after I told you? You didn’t even warn me.”
“But I’m not that good at it!”
“You’re the best cursebreaker in our class.”
“Not as good as you!”
“Hmm. A shame then that I can’t self-cast.”
“Todoroki-kun!”
“I’m not charmed,” a pause, “In the magical sense.”
Midoriya groans, slapping a hand to his face.
“I just like him…” Shouto says with a little shrug, rubbing the back of his neck to get rid of the heat creeping up there.
The endeared look and the wobbly smile that Midoriya gives him makes Shouto feel just the slightest bit embarrassed, the heat from his neck spreading to the base of his skull. “I thought as much…I’ve never seen you pursue anyone before, or even express any interest in somebody else.”
Shouto only hums. He closes his eyes and wills his magical energy to pour out and manifest physically. A ball of silvery wisps appears and swirls lazily on his palm. “Help me with this, I think I’ve almost got it.”
It’s a grueling process, and Midoriya breaks down another three more times over the course of the week, but Shouto finally completes his gift on Valentine’s eve.
He looks over the nine heart-shaped concentrations of his magical energy, nestled on paper decorated with a heart-shaped pattern, carefully placed in a heart-shaped box that’s specially enchanted to store magical energy for the long term.
It’s…a lot of hearts.
“Is it too much? Maybe I should swap out the paper for a simpler one?”
Midoriya only claps him on the back and sends him on his way with a cheerful, “Good luck!”
♥ ♥ ♥
Valentine’s Day is on a Tuesday, which conveniently coincides with Shouto’s day off from university.
He gets up bright and early, too nervous to get any proper sleep the night before. He’s clutching his gift in his hand as the other hovers over his room door. He’s been standing in front of the door for what must be close to ten minutes now, unable to bring himself to knock.
Shouto’s getting cold feet, feeling a little like how he did after colouring Natsuo’s hair when he was four, like he’s about to get into a lot of trouble.
Except Shouto isn’t in any trouble. Not at all. Though perhaps it can be argued that having feelings for a succubus is practically inviting trouble into his life.
Shouto lets out a long, suffering sigh. He’s about to go back to the couch to work up the courage to try again when his bedroom door swings open. Shouto jolts in surprise and nearly drops the box. He catches himself before it slips from his hand and swiftly hides it behind his back.
Bakugou blinks up at him, one brow arching when he sees Shouto occupying his doorway.
“Good morning,” Shouto says, after what is definitely too much silent staring, tongue like lead in his mouth.
Bakugou’s quiet, for long enough that it makes Shouto start to sweat. And then his stoic expression breaks into a smirk that makes Shouto’s stomach do a somersault and fall with a splat right on its face.
“You gonna come in? Or you just gonna stand there with that dumb look on your face all day?”
Bakugou opens the door wider and steps to the side.
It’s an invitation that Shouto can’t refuse. He takes a deep breath, feels a little silly in doing so, and steps into his own room. He makes a cursory glance around the room before his eyes come back to Bakugou.
The demon is dressed in one of Shouto’s sweaters, a rich burgundy that brings out the colour of Bakugou’s eyes. It’s one of Shouto’s favourite sweaters, a bit on the larger side so it’s loose even on his own body. Bakugou is practically drowning in the soft wool, only the tips of his fingers showing from the sleeves while the hem reaches the top of his thighs. Shouto feels his heart speed up when he sees the naked expanse of skin below and quickly redirects his gaze upwards.
Bakugou’s smirking at him again. His arms are crossed and his head is tilted slightly to the side, looking up at Shouto through long lashes that cast longer shadows down his cheeks.
“Got something to say, halfie? I ain’t gonna wait forever y’know.”
Shouto swallows and carefully offers the box to Bakugou. The demon doesn’t laugh or knock the box out of his hands, so that’s a promising start. Bakugou accepts the box and flips the cover open. His eyes widen slightly when he sees the contents.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Bakugou.”
It’s at the exact moment when his name leaves Shouto’s mouth when a thought strikes him—does Bakugou even know what Valentine’s Day is?
Panic grips him and Shouto’s about to start explaining—the martyrdom of Saint Valentine’s is a good place to start, he thinks—when Bakugou crowds into his space. All thoughts of Saint Valentine flee his mind as his brain short-circuits from being in such close proximity to his crush. From this distance, Shouto can see the subtle sheen of sparkles decorating Bakugou’s lids.
Shouto sucks his lips in and takes a step backwards.
“You’re thinking too much,” Bakugou takes a step forward, putting himself in Shouto’s space again.
“I’m—” One step back.
“Don’t think,” one step forward.
“Bakugou, wait—” one step back.
“Just do ,” one step forward—Bakugou reaches for him. He plants his clawed hands flat on Shouto’s chest and shoves .
The backs of Shouto’s knees hits the edge of the bed. He stumbles backwards and falls onto the mattress, sending the pillows bouncing off the surface. And Bakugou—Bakugou falls with him, laughing as he does. He lands atop Shouto, still holding the box of Shouto’s condensed energy in his hands, and his face comes so close that Shouto can practically taste the cherry chapstick on his lips.
“I’m not gonna ask a second time,” Bakugou places the box somewhere out of Shouto’s line of sight before using his pinky finger to trace the outer rim of Shouto’s bottom lip. His touch is feather-light and it makes Shouto shudder, eyes going wide as saucers. “What do you want?”
It feels like an eternity passes before Shouto finds his voice again.
“You.”
Shouto wonders if his eyes are playing tricks on him. The smirk that Shouto’s so used to seeing split Bakugou’s lips softens. And so does his gaze, the intense carmine of his eyes turning fond, almost.
Shouto hurries to elaborate, “You—I like you, Bakugou. I’d like to enter into a proper contract with you.”
“S’that so,” Bakugou props his head up on his palm. “I dunno, what can you offer me?” His tone is flippant, as if he’s uninterested, but Shouto picks out the underlying playfulness of his words. And—and he still looks fond.
Maybe he wants to test Shouto’s resolve. Well, Shouto’s not going to disappoint him. He’s prepared to do whatever’s needed to convince Bakugou.
“Everything,” Shouto says, “Everything you want, I’ll give it to you.”
“Everything?”
“Yeah…everything. Let me take care of you—you know that I can.”
“Don’t fucking flatter yourself, you get a passing mark at best,” Bakugou retorts.
“I’ll be better,” Shouto says with a determined nod. “I’ll do anything you want.”
“Will you?” Bakugou’s gaze turns sharp and Shouto gets the creeping feeling that he’s walked himself into a trap. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re not bad , Shouto,” the demon drawls, his hand traveling up to card into Shouto’s hair. He twirls a red strand around his index finger and sighs, “But I have certain needs that need satisfying. And if you can’t, then well,” Bakugou sighs again, making a dramatic show of it, “I don’t really feel like binding myself to you.”
“What is it?” Shouto asks, his tone urgent. He brings his hand up and curls it lightly around Bakugou’s wrist. “Whatever it is, I can do it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Good,” Bakugou grins as he sits up, taking his addicting scent of caramel with him. He moves to straddle Shouto, spreading his thighs and planting his legs on either side of Shouto’s hips.
Shouto’s frozen to the bed as he watches Bakugou place his hands on his thighs and start dragging them upwards. The hem of Shouto’s sweater catches on his hands and bunches up, getting pulled up as well. More and more skin is revealed and it’s all Shouto can do to stare transfixed, hands fisting into the sheets below him, as the sweater is pushed higher, up to his hips.
Up and up the sweater goes, Bakugou gasping lightly when his hands run over his pierced nipples. He pulls the sweater all the way up until it’s right under his chin before peering down at Shouto with a feral smirk.
Bakugou’s completely naked under his sweater. There’s a light flush colouring his ample chest, matching the pretty shade of pink dusting his cheeks and across his nose. Shouto catches a glimpse of Bakugou’s cock, stained the same deep wine colour of his forearms and already at half-mast, before he quickly directs his eyes elsewhere. Except—except he has no idea where to look. Bakugou’s sinfully perfect body is right in front of him and Shouto feels like he might combust into flames again if he even spends more than five seconds looking at any part of it.
“Shouto,” the demon croons, his voice low and soothing. He takes one of Shouto’s hands and coaxes it out of the tight fist Shouto’s rolled it into. Bakugou brings the hand to his chest and presses it against his left breast.
“Bakugou!” Shouto gasps, flustered beyond belief when Bakugou guides his hand to squeeze his pec. It’s firm to Shouto’s touch, yet impossibly soft.
“I’m stronger than the other extras so I don’t have to do it but don’t forget, I’m a succubus too,” Bakugou hums when he continues using Shouto’s hand to massage his tit. “There are other more… pleasurable ways for me to feed on your energy.”
Bakugou’s hand drops away, leaving Shouto’s on his chest still gripping the plush flesh. “Make me feel good, and I’ll think about your offer.”
Shouto meets Bakugou’s eyes, carmine to ice and steel. He brings both hands to Bakugou’s tapered waist and, using it as an anchor, shimmies himself up into a sitting position. He grabs the sweater and helps Bakugou pull it over his head, leaving him completely bare. Bakugou’s tail swishes behind him as Shouto puts the sweater aside, folding it with clumsy fingers just so he’d have something to do with his hands.
He takes his time then, studying Bakugou’s figure. The strong lines of his thighs, his tiny waist that Shouto’s hands could almost circle over fully when he held him, his defined abs and his plump chest, the dusky colour of the hardened buds. There’s a nerve pulsing visibly in his neck and Shouto wonders if Bakugou is nervous. Probably not.
Shouto’s very nervous, afraid of messing up. He’s not a virgin but his experience is lacking, especially compared to Bakugou who must have all the experience in the world when it comes to carnal pleasures.
He wants desperately to make Bakugou feel good. Not just because of the stakes involved, but because Bakugou deserves it. He’s always made Shouto feel good, made him feel cared for with his own brand of foul-mouthed affection. And Shouto—Shouto wants to make Bakugou feel good too.
“You’re fucking thinking too much again,” something wraps around Shouto’s wrist and he looks down to see that it’s Bakugou’s tail. The tail tugs him forward and Shouto goes easily.
Bakugou guides his hand to his face, the tail unwrapping itself and falling away once Shouto is cupping Bakugou’s cheek. “You’re lucky you’re handsome. If some other idiot spent ten minutes staring at me without doing anything I would have kicked him out.”
“You think I’m handsome?” Shouto strokes his thumb over the crest of Bakugou’s cheekbone, marveling at how soft the demon’s skin is.
“Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”
So Shouto does. He leans forward, lets his eyes slide close, and kisses him. Bakugou’s lips are sticky and the taste of cherry fills Shouto’s senses. They stay like that for a bit before Shouto plucks up some courage and starts moving his mouth, nipping gently at the demon’s plush lips. They kiss slowly and languidly. Bakugou’s sweet breath fans across Shouto’s face when they switch angles before fitting their lips together once more.
Bakugou slides his tongue over the seam of Shouto’s lips. He doesn’t wait for permission before bullying his way into Shouto’s mouth. The taste of Bakugou’s cherry chapstick is overpowered, replaced by the overwhelming taste of caramel. Shouto feels the sparks of an electric current pass between them when their tongues touch, an exchange of pure, unadulterated power.
“Mmm, Bakugou,” Shouto’s free hand comes up to curl around the demon’s neck. “What—”
“Don’t think about it,” Bakugou murmurs against his lips. His hands find the hem of Shouto’s shirt and in one swift motion, he tugs it off him and throws it away haphazardly. And then Bakugou’s on him again, kissing him forcefully while his hands roam Shouto’s body shamelessly. “Focus on me.”
“Okay,” Shouto obeys easily, pouring all his attention back into their kiss. The demon moans when Shouto licks into his mouth, clawed hands coming to grip Shouto’s shoulders.
“Fuck…you taste so good,” Bakugou pushes closer, rising up to his knees so he hovers above Shouto while bearing more of his weight on Shouto’s shoulders, making it easier for him to shove his tongue into Shouto’s mouth.
Shouto’s never kissed anyone with a tongue piercing before. The difference between Bakugou’s warm and pliant tongue and the cold and hard metal ball is odd but not unpleasant.
“You taste better—so sweet,” his words seem to amuse the demon, because Bakugou lets out this cute little half-huff, huff-giggle that Shouto greedily swallows up.
Following Bakugou’s example, Shouto lets his own hands explore Bakugou’s body while they continue to kiss, committing each curve and line to his memory. He slides his hands up and down his sides, ghosts his fingertips across the ridged valley of his abs before coasting upwards to cup his chest.
Bakugou’s pecs weigh heavy in his palms and they actually jiggle when Shouto bounces them, much to his silent amazement. He splays his hands open and squeezes, marveling at how Bakugou’s plush tits spill through the gaps of his fingers.
The demon whines loudly when Shouto thumbs at one pierced nipple. He breaks from the kiss and buries his face into the crook of Shouto’s neck and sinks his teeth in. Shouto ignores the pinpricks of pain as Bakugou’s teeth punctures skin, focused on playing with the little metal bar that’s speared through the hardened bud. Bakugou keeps making these pretty, whiny noises amidst his breathless cursing and Shouto thinks he might already be addicted, his confidence growing with each desperate sound he manages to pull from the demon.
“You’re so sensitive,” Shouto wonders aloud when he uses both thumbs to rub tight circles on both nipples. “Is it because you have them pierced?”
Bakugou tells Shouto to shut up yet again, but the end of his sentence tapers off into a moan when Shouto takes one bud into his mouth and gives it a hard suck. Bakugou thrashes in his hold but Shouto keeps the demon locked in place, his hands gripping Bakugou’s waist tightly so he can’t wiggle away.
Shouto rolls the nipple around in his tongue and tugs at it lightly with his teeth. He does the same to the other neglected one when Bakugou tugs insistently on his hair and demands that he attend to it, showering it with his undivided attention. When he pulls away, there’s a line of saliva that connects his mouth to Bakugou’s engorged bud and his chest is wet and shiny with Shouto’s spit.
“Should have known…you’re a fucking pervert,” Bakugou complains weakly, tears beading at the corner of his eyes that Shouto leans up to kiss away.
Shouto lowers Bakugou onto the mattress and lies next to him. He kisses Bakugou again on the lips, smiling when the demon kisses back. “Sorry. But you liked it, didn’t you?”
Bakugou answers by slapping his tail against Shouto’s ass and pulling him into a deeper kiss. “Off,” he orders, his tail tugging on a belt loop.
Shouto’s only too eager to comply. Still with his mouth glued to Bakugou’s, Shouto unbuttons his jeans and shimmies out of them, kicking them off along with his underwear unceremoniously. Bakugou gropes one of Shouto’s asscheeks, making him jolt, before he scoots closer and jams their crotches together.
Shouto’s embarrassment over his already being half-hard just from making out and sucking on Bakugou’s tits is quickly washed away when he feels Bakugou’s precum smearing all over his heated skin. Bakugou begins rutting mindlessly against him, panting too much to properly kiss Shouto, his lips sliding slippery over Shouto’s chin. It’s the hottest thing that Shouto’s ever experienced in his life and all the blood in his body rushes straight to his dick.
He plants his hands on Bakugou’s hips, much to the demon’s approval, and grinds back enthusiastically. He keeps his eyes trained on their cocks, on Bakugou’s especially. Instead of the deep wine colour it was before, Bakugou’s cock is now a bright cerise that looks almost translucent after filling up to its full size. It’s long and just on the side of chubby and Shouto think it’s the prettiest cock he’s ever seen.
“I’m close…fuck,” Bakugou mutters into his skin, his rutting losing any sense of rhythm it had before. Shouto takes this opportunity to roll them over so he’s hovering over Bakugou, caging him to the bed. He snakes one hand down between them and wraps his hand firmly around the base of Bakugou’s cock, earning himself a frustrated cry from the demon.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Bakugou hisses, blinking open bleary eyes hazed over with lust.
“Tell me your name.”
“Wha—? You know my name, dumbass!”
“No, not your courtesy name,” Shouto leans down and trails a line of kisses up Bakugou’s clenched jaw, sucking a bruise in the spot behind his ear. “Tell me your real name.”
“You don’t…need to know that,” Bakugou huffs, face turning a dangerous shade of crimson that matches his eyes. Bakugou’s hands fly downwards to scratch at Shouto’s wrist but he traps them easily in his free hand. He pulls them up and pins them to the bed above Bakugou’s head.
“I do—I want to,” Shouto licks along the shell of Bakugou’s ear, and the demon shudders beneath him. Shouto pulls back slightly to admire the sight Bakugou makes, splayed out helplessly on his bedsheets. His skin is blush-kissed all over, his cockhead leaking copious amounts of pearly liquid. Tears are streaming down his cheeks and Shouto even spots some remnants of his chapstick smeared all over his lips and chin.
Shouto’s heart squeezes in his chest. He feels breathless and hot all over, his gut twisting into painful knots at the intensity of his feelings for the demon that’s stolen his heart away. He can’t remember what life was like before Bakugou, doesn’t even want to imagine what life might be like without him in his future.
“Tell me,” Shouto leans forward and kisses Bakugou again, coaxing his mouth open to let him in. He twists his hand that’s still wrapped around Bakugou’s cock and swallows the whimper that the demon lets out.
“Tell me. I promise I’ll make you feel good. I’ll take good care of you.”
Bakugou fixes him with a watery stare, eyes swimming with tears on the brink of spilling over. He sucks his lips in and worries his bottom lip between his teeth. Shouto lets go of Bakugou’s wrists and thumbs the poor thing free, soothes the line of teeth indents with gentle kisses.
“Bakugou—” Shouto starts, but Bakugou surges forward and seals his lips over Shouto’s, kissing the words away. He kisses Shouto like he’s trying to suck his soul right out of his body, aggressive and unrelenting, snatching the breath right out of Shouto’s lungs.
“Katsuki.”
Shouto only manages a confused, “Huh?” when they separate, lips throbbing pleasantly, mind filled nothing but the thought that he’d like to kiss Ba—Katsuki forever.
Katsuki snorts and rolls his eyes at him. “I’m not gonna fucking say it again.”
“I heard you,” Shouto grins while Katsuki sticks his tongue out at him. Shouto dips his head and catches that playful tongue between his teeth, biting down lightly. They kiss, again and again, Shouto whispering Katsuki’s name like a prayer on his tongue while he sneaks his hand into the gaps between Katsuki’s fingers and presses their joined hands to the bed.
“Katsuki,” Shouto doesn’t think he’s ever heard a name so pretty, so fitting.
“Katsuki,” Shouto breathes as his other hand resumes moving against Katsuki’s cock. His movements are fast and precise and it doesn’t take long before Katsuki’s spilling all over his hand. Katsuki’s whine gets stuck in his throat as his eyes roll into the back of his head. His nails dig into the back of Shouto’s hand but Shouto doesn’t care. The pain doesn’t even register, not when he sees how pretty Katsuki is spasming beneath him, ropes of cum painting his heaving torso.
“Katsuki,” Shouto’s voice turns desperate when his hand leaves Katsuki’s softening cock that’s darkening to its original wine red and makes it way downwards with intent. He fondles Katsuki’s balls lightly, traces his thumb down Katsuki’s perineum, until he brushes against that puckering hole.
“Katsuki, please . I—”
“Yes. Yes yes yes . Just— stop talking ,” Katsuki spreads his shivering legs, and Shouto’s breath is punched from his chest when he actually sees Katsuki’s entrance winking at him. “Stop talking and touch me.”
“Okay,” Shouto hurries to obey. He circles two fingers around the furled rim and blinks in surprise something wet and sticky coats his digits.
“Did you prep yourself?” Shouto asks when he pulls his fingers back, separating them to study the translucent film clinging between his two fingers.
“Prep?” Katsuki snorts again, before his amusement grows and turns into barely stifled laughter. “You’re forgetting again, what I am.”
Shouto can only blink, not quite sure if he’s understanding the implications of Katsuki’s statement quite right. His cock twitches with interest all the same.
“This body,” Katsuki drags his hand up slowly, from his knee to his collarbone. “It’s made for sex. If I’m wet, it’s all because of you, little mortal.”
“Fuck,” Shouto’s eyes snap back to Katsuki’s entrance, leaking a steady stream of clear liquid. He pushes two fingers in, knuckle deep, and watches transfixed as they’re sucked into the wet heat without an ounce of resistance.
“Holy fuck,” Shouto curses again. He thinks his head might explode from all the arousal swirling like a maelstrom within. The left side of his face feels dangerously close to catching fire again.
“Mmm, I think I like it when you curse,” Katsuki smirks, squeezing his insides around Shouto’s fingers. A gush of slick overflows when he does, wetting the rest of Shouto’s hand and making his head spin with a new wave of desire.
“I like you,” Shouto blurts out in response, pulling his fingers from Katsuki’s hole.
Katsuki only shakes his head and calls him an idiot. “No prep. I want you inside. Now .”
Katsuki’s tail wraps itself around Shouto’s thigh when he scoots closer and fits himself snug between Katsuki’s spread legs. He scoops up more of Katsuki’s slick and coats his pulsing dick with it, so hard that it aches and makes Shouto hiss when he touches it.
Shouto gives it one, two more pumps before he’s lining it up with Katsuki’s waiting entrance. He starts pushing in slowly, still a little apprehensive that they’re doing this without any prep. But Katsuki takes him in without so much as a peep of complaint, the only signs of strain that Shouto can see being the blotchy patches of red painting Katsuki’s face and the pinch between his brows.
Despite all the slick easing Shouto’s way in, the fit is still dizzyingly tight. Katsuki’s insides squeeze and pulse against his cock, greedy and selfish as they attempt to suck Shouto in further. He has to bite down on his bottom lip to stop himself from cumming before he’s fully seated within. Shouto plants his free hand on Katsuki’s hip and digs his fingers into the soft flesh to ground himself, sweat dripping from his temples from concentration as he feeds more and more of himself in, until—
“So fucking big,” Katsuki whimpers finally, his voice breaking as his back arches off the bed slightly.
“Katsuki,” Shouto babbles the demon’s name over and over again as he lurches forward and crushes their lips together in a sloppy kiss, shoving his cock even deeper into Katsuki’s heat, making the demon cry out. “You feel so good around me, so fucking tight and perfect.”
Katsuki wraps one leg around Shouto’s waist and digs his heel into the small of his back. “Fuck, stop talking—stop talking and move, dammit!”
Shouto breaks from the kiss and shifts back into his kneeling position before he begins to fuck into Katsuki in earnest. He starts slow—long and deep thrusts where he pulls his cock out nearly all the way before driving it back in. The agonizingly slow push and pull is sinfully delicious and Shouto relishes in the way Katsuki clamps down on his length whenever he pulls out, so clingy and desperate to keep him inside.
He wants to go slow, savour this intimate moment, but Katsuki clearly has other ideas.
“Faster!” He demands petulantly, swollen bottom lip jutting out in a pout. It’s so cute that Shouto can’t help but lean forward and kiss him again, right on his pouty lips.
Shouto wraps both hands around Katsuki’s waist as he quickens his pace. The languid rhythm from before morphs into something quick and urgent. The sounds of their coupling, wet and impossibly loud, echoes around the room.
It’s too easy for Shouto to yank Katsuki back onto his cock at the same time he thrusts in. The heady feeling of domination threatens to choke Shouto, and the wanton moans that fall freely from Katsuki’s lips only serves to stoke the flame of his desires further. Katsuki’s helpless like this, at Shouto’s mercy to use however he pleases. And that’s how it should always be, the thought comes unbidden, whispered into his mind.
“So pretty, Katsuki. So perfect squeezing around my cock—your hole was made for me, isn’t that right?” Weak protests fall from Katsuki’s mouth but his body is honest, clenching around Shouto’s cock tightly at his words.
Shouto watches hungrily at the way Katsuki is falling apart for him, because of him. His chest bounces in time with Shouto’s erratic piston of his hips, and so does his cock that’s slowly but steadily coming back to life. Shouto watches mesmerized as it fills up, once again turning into that pretty shade of cerise when it’s fully erect.
Katsuki has his hands fisted in the bedsheets by his head. He’s flushed all the way from his face down to his chest, rosy lips parted as he struggles for air. When their eyes meet, Shouto sees none of Katsuki’s usual aggression in his carmine gaze. There’s only satisfaction mixed with desperation in those unfocused eyes, and Shouto’s heart bursts with overflowing affection.
Katsuki, in his bed. Katsuki, in his home. Katsuki, occupying every space in his life. That’s how it should always be. And that’s how it will be, if only the demon would yield to him.
Shouto starts pounding into Katsuki with renewed vigor. His hands leave Katsuki’s waist to find Katsuki’s hands instead. Shouto coaxes Katsuki’s fists open and laces their hands together before pressing them to the sheets. Katsuki’s palm is sticky against his, just like the rest of him, their sweat-slicked bodies moving in perfect harmony with each other.
He’s chanting Katsuki’s name again, hurtling towards his orgasm as the heat in his gut coils tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment. So caught up in chasing his high, Shouto nearly misses Katsuki calling for him.
“Gimme…” Katsuki rasps, his words still sounding like a command despite how weak his voice is. “Your cum. All of it…”
“Yes, yes. I will,” Shouto promises, squeezing their joined hands. “I’ll fill you up.”
Katsuki sighs breathily, as if content. “All of it,” he murmurs again, eyes fluttering close. “…your babies. Want ‘em all.”
The coil snaps. Shouto lets out a guttural moan as he cums without warning, his release painting the walls of Katsuki’s insides, filling the demon to the brim. He presses his face into Katsuki’s sternum and continues to fuck Katsuki through his orgasm that rips mercilessly through his body. His spine is tingling, toes curling with the overwhelming pleasure that crests and crashes into him in relentless waves.
Shouto feels Katsuki sigh, and even though he doesn’t see it, Shouto knows that Katsuki’s reached his own high as well, from the way his body goes boneless and limp beneath him.
Shouto closes his eyes and lets himself float away into the clouds.
When he comes back into himself, it’s to the feeling of Katsuki’s hand in his, his anchor to this world.
Shouto’s arms are straining from the effort of keeping himself propped up. He eases back onto his haunches and carefully pulls his softening cock out of Katsuki’s ass. Curiously, none of his cum flows out from Katsuki’s puffy hole but Shouto’s too blissed out to think too much about it.
He crawls over to Katsuki’s side and lays down beside him, as close as can be. Once again, Katsuki is the picture of softness. He still has his eyes closed, breathing steadily through his lips. It reminds Shouto of the slow mornings where he wakes to find Katsuki sleeping nestled against him, and how even then, before he realized his feelings, he had felt a calming sense of peace and rightness.
“Katsuki,” Shouto brushes the damp bangs away from the demon’s forehead and presses a gentle kiss to sweaty and heated skin. “Forge the contract with me. Be mine—let me be yours.”
Katsuki blinks his eyes open slowly, like a cat rousing from its afternoon nap. He turns his head to look at Shouto, soft cheeks still dusted in the prettiest shades of rose.
“Way ahead of you,” Katsuki’s lips curves into his signature smirk at the confused look that adorns Shouto’s face at his cryptic words. He opens his mouth wide and lets his tongue loll out.
On Katsuki’s tongue is a mark. Shouto’s eyes go wide when he recognizes it, “When did you—?!”
It’s a claim mark, one that binds a demon permanently to its owner. Every warlock has their own mark that differentiates their claims from other warlocks. Shouto is no different—his mark is a variation on his family crest, framed by fire and ice that tells of his natural affinity for the two elements.
Shouto’s mark now sits in the center of Katsuki’s tongue, with his piercing as its centerpiece. It pulses gently with a silvery glow, and even from this distance, he can feel the power thrumming strong just under the surface.
“When did you…” Shouto sputters again, and he has to hold back the urge to pinch Katsuki’s tongue between his fingers to study the mark better, to make sure that his eyes aren’t playing tricks on him.
Katsuki giggles as he pulls his tongue back into his mouth.
“Don’t think about it,” there’s something oddly familiar about the way Katsuki says it. But Shouto doesn’t have it in him to care. His smile is so wide that his cheeks hurt and he can’t hold back the joyous laughter that’s bubbling in his chest.
Shouto pulls Katsuki to him and into his embrace. Katsuki doesn’t even pretend to resist, letting Shouto manhandle him as he pleases, arms coming up to wrap around Shouto as he burrows deep into Shouto’s chest.
“I like you, Katsuki. I like you so much. Thank you.”
“Hah! I know.”
♥ ♥ ♥
“Katsuki.”
“What is it, halfie?”
“We’re boyfriends now right?”
“…”
“Katsuki?”
“Guess it can’t be helped. Sure, we’re boyfriends now.”
“Thank you, Katsuki.”
“Yeah, yeah, s’whatever—stop slobbering on me, dammit…”
“I want my goodnight kiss.”
“Hah? You’re so annoying y’know that—”
“…”
“…”
“Goodnight, Katsuki.”
“Night, my little mortal.”