Prismatica Inbox

[numbertwohero]

Inbox

video ⬤ audio ⬤ text ⬤ delivery

Shoto Todoroki ⬤ MHA
residential district ⬤ ??
moonblessing ⬤ Cordis

info ⬤ permissions ⬤ kinklist

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[numbertwohero]

[All these sounds Katsuki is making are so bizarrely pleasant, sending a rush of warmth flooding through him. It's good, it's a sign that he's good, and he feels entirely too good about that, too. He's greedy for more of them, wants more of them, and even that disappointed noise is amazing. Shouto's eyes open and see Katsuki looking back at him, cheeks flushed and lips almost swollen and wet and it's way more attractive than he'd ever imagined. He would never in a million years have thought this would be a thing. Ever. In any universe. And yet, it's happening, and he likes it.

And then that look on Katsuki's face shifts, and he's flinging himself away from Shouto, and Shouto freezes, hands still holding the hem of his shirt. What is he doing? What are they doing?? What the hell is any of this, and why is he disappointed that it's stopped???

Something in his chest clenches painfully, and he lets go of his shirt, pulling himself into a seated position pressed into the corner of the couch, drawing his knees up in front of him in a posture he knows is defensive and can't help, anyway.]

...I was hot, and it was uncomfortable.

[His voice is a little raspy from disuse, and much quieter than it should be, and he resists the urge to lick his lips again. This is stupid. What was he even thinking? He wasn't, and that's the point, and now the weirdly comfortable friendship they've built is going to end. He's ruined this too, just like he ruined things with Izuku.]

I wasn't stripping, anyway. It's just a shirt. Wasn't like I was taking anything else off.

[He sounds weird. He sounds hurt, and weirdly lost, and he hates it but he can't seem to stop it.]

[hot_handed]

Then...fucking get colder.

[Katsuki mumbles, all irritation and confusion with nowhere to go. He pinches the bridge of his nose, hard, as if hoping if he hurts himself enough he can make the other pain go away. He doesn't like that look on Shouto's face. But how he sounds is what really stabs at him. It twists his insides and forces them up against his chest, pressing them against his heart and he can't breathe or think about anything other than that hurt, Shouto looks hurt, just like everyone else did when he said something too cruel or his recklessness got them harmed. But this time it's different. It's hurting him too and he has no idea why.

Why the hell was he acting like he was in the wrong? So he fucking snapped. He does that all the time. What made it any different now? He was the one with an actual shred of common sense. Maye Shouto was just hot. What if it had been some other dumbass here instead of Katsuki who didn't understand that and took it as a sign of something else? The rage is familiar. It's comfortable. He lets it boil over until he snaps, again without thinking.]

Don't see you throwing around your shirt any time you got hot in class, Icy Hot.

[Please, just stop talking. Stop sounding like that. Just agree with him and move on.]

[numbertwohero]

[That's right. Katsuki snaps all the time, so why should this be any different? Why should he let it get to him? It's no different from any other day.

Except it is. What they were just doing--he's never gotten like that with anyone before. Sure, he's kissed a few people, but that was something in a whole new class.

His cheeks flush as Katsuki throws his answers back at Shouto, and his jaw sets, a muscle twitching as his fingers tighten around his knees. Is he mad? He hopes he's mad. Mad is easier, familiar.]

We're not in class. It's just us, and we're in my apartment alone, and if being around me makes you that uncomfortable you're welcome to leave, Katsuki.

[He sounds mad, but it isn't just mad. He sounds hurt. He hates that, but it doesn't change it. Even the use of Katsuki's name is a deliberate jab at the other boy, calling him out for always resulting to insults and name-calling. A dumb one, but still.

What is he even doing here?]

[hot_handed]

[The name cuts through Katsuki like a knife. Does he flinch? Maybe. He tells himself he's just twitching, out of the sheer infuriation toward Shouto. He's the one who made this weird. And he had the fucking gall to pin this on him?

They had been doing fine. No. No they hadn't. This whole thing was stupid. He had been stupid, and it was all fucking Cordis' fault. He finally looks at Shouto and sneers, as if he's mean enough he can just erase everything that happened. He can ignore the hurt in Shouto's voice. When the fuck did he start caring? Caring was a mistake.]

If ya wanted me out so bad, Todoroki, you could've just kicked me out. I ain't no sensitive piece of shit.

[He stands up, stiff, tense. The air is cold against the back of his neck, and he refuses to look back at Shouto. Why does it fucking hurt? It shouldn't hurt. Fuck this empathy for another person crap.]

I'll pay you back for the snacks. See you around.

[He always has to have the last word. He always has to win. So he goes to the door, the metal knob burning in his palm, and moves to leave.]

[numbertwohero]

[That flinch should make him feel good. Instead, it just hurts, like all the rest of it hurts, and he doesn't know why or how to make it stop.

Shouto wants to argue when Katsuki throws those words at him. Wants to say that he doesn't want him to leave. Wants to ask him to stay. Wants to apologize.

The words stick on his tongue. Instead, what comes out is hushed, and he's not looking at Katsuki at all as he speaks, frozen on the couch like his quirk has malfunctioned. It may as well have, for how cold he feels, how numb except for the stupid searing warmth of his lips and the deep, piercing ache in his chest.]

...Do what you want, Bakugou. You always do.

[Katsuki can have the last word. He doesn't care. He doesn't. He doesn't. And maybe if he sits there long enough, alone in the oppressive silence of his apartment, he'll believe it.]

He sits there for