1889
Tokyo, Japan
After the fall of the shogunate, the Eastern Capital stood strong as an ox when the Edo name was stripped from it like a bandage. Outside, the sun bathed Tokyo in a warm brilliance, the light catching on every corner of the buildings, roads, and locomotives as it began to set for the day. The streets blustered with people and muffled chatter that vibrated the shop's windows. Once the imperial rule was restored, the population flourished thick as a rainforest, and Japan adopted the westernized methodology.
Viscount Katsuki Bakugou, a twelve-year-old fella. A fella who was too old to be a boy and too young to be a man, stood next to the window near the exit, arms crossed over his chest as he rapped his foot against the polished floor like an angered bunny.
He wore a white ainu robe, marked in black squares and orange koi fish. Short trousers, paired with his favorite high socks and dress shoes, enveloped the rest of his body, and a solid-black eyepatch covered one side of his face. In this shop, spice and grease clinged everywhere, itching Katsuki's already sensitive nose. Despite the fact he sneezed three times already, his nostril hairs tickled the inside of his nose like a feather.
Another one was definitely coming on, he thought as a growl vibrated deep in his chest. If that was the case, he wished it would stop toying with him so he could cease making faces at his dimmed reflection in the window. It had already stopped many extras in their tracks to gawk at him ─ as though he was some freak of nature in a zoo ─ until he glared at them to piss off.
"Rodi-san, please. I'm trying to work." Katsuki's butler's deep, smooth voice pierced over the clink of glass and the shuffle of clothes.
"C'mon, Izuku, don't be like that. All I want to do is play," the shop owner, Rodi Souru, said. "Aren't we friends? You barely come around anymore."
"That's because I'm busy. I do take my job as a butler very seriously," Izuku said.
He scoffed. "Yeah, I can see that."
Years ago, a terrible tragedy struck the Bakugou's manor, somewhere deep in the night. He had been nine years old when it happened. His surroundings had been silent. The trees rustled outside his window, but all had been well… until a scream rang out from down the hall from where his bedroom was stationed.
That night, Katsuki's parents were murdered within their own walls of their home before Katsuki was kidnapped himself. It was Izuku Midoriya, a bakemono, a shape-shifting ghost, who saved him ─ who took him in under his wings. The thousand year old ghost nursed him back to health until Katsuki was ready to take the responsibilities of being the Head of Bakugous' manor onto his shoulders, as his father did before Katsuki was born.
Yes, Izuku was a ghost, but Katsuki was sure he was something else. Something deadlier, horrifying, yet he couldn't find that he cared. He just wanted someone by his side to make the nights a little less lonelier. And if that meant allowing a godless creature like Izuku Midoriya into his home, so be it.
Now, he and his useless butler were in this shop, gathering ingredients for tonight's "extraordinary" dinner. Katsuki had blatantly stated that it wasn't necessary to go all out for tonight. But Izuku was nothing but exigent, saying it was his job to make sure Katsuki was satisfied. Katsuki had scoffed at this, coming to the conclusion that he and the rest of his servants were a bunch of idiots in uniforms.
Dropping his arms to the side of himself, he swerved on his heel before stomping over to the two men. Izuku had a box in hand, his back straightened with his feet pressed against each other, while Souru had his arms wrapped tightly around Katsuki's butler, cooing and purring how much he loved him. Nausea seeped into Katsuki's stomach.
"You damn deku, what are you doing?" Katsuki barked. "It's getting late, and you got your dick in your hand. Can you keep it in your pants until tomorrow?"
"I'm sorry, My Lord. It's just… I seem to have found myself in a sticky situation at the moment," Izuku said.
His left eye twitched. "Then un-find yourself in this situation, buy the damn spice, and let's go!"
"Yes, My Lord."
With a finger, Izuku flicked Souru's forehead, forcing the shop owner's arms from around him. The contact of bone and skin echoed through the small store.
"Ow! What the hell?" Souru cried, rubbing the spot where Izuku struck him. "Yeesh, you two are no fun."
"That's because we didn't come here for fun," Katsuki said as he snatched an item that looked like a perfume bottle off the shelf closest to him. "We came here because Deku thought it was a good idea to get spices from a witch." Then, he shook it for effect.
Souru gasped. "A witch? How dare you, you ungrateful swan! Is that anyway to talk to your elders? I am a warlock."
"It's nothing personal, Rodi-san. He’s been very short-tempered all day. Unfortunately, I’ve been the victim of it this entire time," Izuku said, sighing. "My Lord has a meeting with some important people tomorrow. And because of it, he's been a little on edge."
“Don't f*cking patronize me, Deku!” Katsuki said.
“Now, now. Is that anyway to talk around people?”
"Oh! Why didn't you just say that? Come right this way…" Souru rounded his register, humming a tune to himself.
Souru was an… interesting character, to say the least. The town knew him as a fraud, dubbing him Rodi, the Soul Snatcher because his omens often came with a price not even the Devil would find suitable. The whispers of the underworld said he was someone who ripped off the naive and poor with the lull of his voice and the promise of someone's greatest desire. But Katsuki knew he was the real deal, Izuku said as much.
A red scarf was fitted around his head, separating his spiky fringes and his tawny-brown ponytail away from each other. Charcoal-gray eyes lit up like stars in the dim light overhead as he retrieved the box from Izuku's hands. Behind him, different specimens were bottled in a variety of liquids: bat wings, lizard tails, a bird's beak, and something that looked like a rabbit's nail. And on the counter, a stuffed raccoon was mounted on a mantle, dark eyes glaring into the soul of the room. Katsuki shivered.
As Izuku paid with paper money and golden coins, Katsuki flipped the bottle over in his right hand. The container was in the shape of a heart, made from fine glass that was clear as a sunny day in spring. The deep pink liquid within it glowed, highlighting Katsuki's boyish features, something the flask didn't do when he picked it up.
Maybe shaking the bottle activated it, he thought.
"There you go, ZuZu. You're all set now," Souru said.
"Zu… Zu? You really got to work on your Japanese. It's horrible. Atrocious, even!"
"God, you're so rude! My Japanese is fine, thank you very much! Also, I'd be careful with that item, Bakugou-sama."
Katsuki lifted his head, brows furrowed."Why?"
As soon as his question left his tongue, a dark pink haze spat in his face. He waved the gust away as a cough racked his body, stabbing both his chest and back. The smoke began to fade, but the tang of an overly sweet candy bar laced the inside of his mouth. Izuku rushed to his side, kneeling down to ensure that he was fine.
"My Lord, are you okay?" he asked, concerned dripping from his lips.
Katsuki smacked his hands away. "Don't touch me! I'm fine!" Another coughing fit strained his body, his throat becoming sore. He covered his mouth with his fist until it stopped. "It's just a little smoke. I can handle it."
"Of course you can, My Lord. I would never insinuate that you couldn't." Taking the bottle from his tiny hands, Izuku glanced over it, trying to find a label for its name or a clue for what it could be. There was no label. Katsuki already checked. "Rodi-san, what exactly is this?"
"I don't think you want an answer for that."
"Why not?"
Wordlessly, Souru's attention drifted over to Katsuki, obviously contemplating if he should tell them or not, before fixating back on Izuku. Katsuki balled his mouth up, ready to spit an insult towards the shop owner for being such a f*cking idiot. But then, Souru sighed, plopping down on a stool before placing his elbow on the counter, resting his face on his fist.
"It's a copulation serum," he said, uninterested.
"A what?" Katsuki spat.
"A sex potion, My Lord."
"I know what copulation means, Deku!" He snapped his attention back on Souru, who was smirking at him, as though this was a game and Katsuki was nothing but a pawn to be played with. "Why the f*ck do you have this laying around?”
"To be fair, Bakugou-sama, children don't tend to come ─" Katsuki glared at him, red pupil blazing for him to continue. "Uh ─ sorry, that came out wrong."
"Nevermind that. What are the effects? And how long do they last?" Izuku asked, placing the bottle down onto the counter.
"Fever, chills, horniess, and maybe a headache." Souru shrugged. "It should go away by tomorrow. If not, he may need to sleep with someone."
"WHAT?" Katsuki cried.
Souru laughed. The rattle in his chest bounced off the walls. "Don't you worry. Aren't you getting married into the Utsushimi family? It's all the buzz around these parts of town."
"I would rather die!"
Souru's face fell, clouded-gray eyes hardening over as his gaze weighted Katsuki down. Katsuki's skin crawled, as though he ran into a spiderweb in the middle of a haunted, dark forest.
"Be careful what you wish for, My Lord. For the right price, it can happen," Souru said. Katsuki frowned.
"We should go, My Lord. We have much to do before your meeting tomorrow," Izuku said, sweeping Katsuki off his feet.
Compared to his butler, the young boy looked like the child he fought not to be seen as, weighing nothing in Izuku's embrace. His butler stood tall ─ around five-eleven, where Katsuki only stood at five-two ─ with lean muscles and fair skin, body littered with freckles. His scaramento-green hair, woven with black highlights, and eyes were similitude to each other.
At that moment, they stared into Katsuki's expression with a weird look. Katsuki's hand itched to smack it off his face. But instead, he crossed his arms over his chest, closed his eyes, and tilted his nose up.
"Whatever," Katsuki said.
"Thank you for your help, Rodi- san. This shall be the last time we come here for anything."
"But ZuZu ─" Souru cried as he tried to climb over the desk, attempting to grab them, only to fall face first onto the counter with a ‘oof’. Once the afternoon air touched their skin, the door closed behind them.
It happened quickly. A lot quicker than Izuku was expecting. The effects of the potion that sprayed his lord in the face ─ back at Rodi’s shop ─ had taken hold, rendering the young boy useless as a doll. Kacchan, a name Izuku had picked up a while ago to mean 'little one', laid composed in their carriage with his head in Izuku’s lap.
The young lord's face was flushed, his breathing heavy, while his hands were laxed at his side. His soft, blond hair ─ spiked like daggers ─ fitted around his head like a well-made dress. His fringes concealed his good eye and his eyepatch. In the distance, the sun began to set, blessing his fair-white skin in an orange hue.
Back then, gashes and bruises myriad that same skin, blood doused all over him from each open wound that had been inflicted on him. His hair had been matted down to the scalp as he trembled in a cage like a beast snatched from the jungle, face scrunched up with so much anger. A scared, little thing Izuku had believed him to be. He had almost pitied him. But then, something clicked inside of the young boy: He wiped his tears away, pulled his shoulders back, and held his head high. That crimson red orb of his burned with something fierce.
Afterwards, his tongue whipped out, declaring he was going to find a way out of that hellhole they entrapped him in before killing them all ─ that there was no hell or heaven that could confine him or his fury. It wasn't a threat, but a promise.
However, the men on the other side of his cage roared with laughter, not taking him seriously. And who could blame them? At the time, his lord hadn't been any older than eight or nine years old in human years. But the passion in Kacchan's voice was what brought Izuku forth to help him. One by one, Izuku slew each man down as he tore and ripped every man apart with his bare hands, spilling blood all over the floor and splattering the walls red.
After his kidnappers were dead, and Kacchan was free from his imprisonment, Izuku kneeled before him in his human soma, dressed in a flowery kimono (the end laying behind him like a ball gown) with his head lowered and a hand placed over his chest ─ the other one plastered behind his back. A sheet that Izuku had grabbed from off a chair draped Kacchan's bruised, naked body. Both he and the sheet were soaked in his enemies’ blood.
He almost looked… sad. Though, thinking about it now, it might’ve been a different emotion.
"Bakugou Katsuki, I am a nameless bakemono ─ a shape-shifting ghost. And with that, this human perona isn't my true form. But I bow before you in hopes you allow me to serve you," Izuku said.
That candy-red eye ─ set in his malnourished face ─ pierced through Izuku's skull with a heavy vengeance. He couldn't say he minded. He knew if he would’ve been alive, his heart would've skipped a beat.
"Tch. It took you this long to help?" Even as a helpless pipsqueak, his soft voice held an authoritarian bass that seemed to shake the very walls surrounding them.
A shiver shuddered through Izuku's body, and he grinned. "My apologies. I thought you were a lost cause. And therefore, kept my distance. If you allow me to help you, it won't happen again."
Izuku risked a glance up; the young boy gripped his chin and averted his eyes to the floor, the other arm wrapped around his small figure as he considered Izuku's offer. Once his mind was settled, he looked at Izuku once more.
"Nameless, huh? That’s okay. I shall name you Midoriya Izuku."
"Oh? Is there a reason why, My Lord?"
The young boy smiled, warm and inviting. "Because you can read the first kanji of your name as dekunobou , which translates to ‘worthless loser,’ silly." The false grin fell from his face, and his eyes hardened over as he glared down at Izuku. "That's what men like you are to gods like me. And until you prove your loyalty, I shall call you what you are, you useless, worthless ghoul. That should be enough to keep you in your place."
Izuku’s upper lip curled in disgust, but he didn't say anything because Kacchan, the boy who was nothing but a brat, stood firm as he said:
"Listen up, Deku, I am Katsuki Bakugou, son of Mitsuki and Masaru Bakugou ─ soon to inherit my family's estate and become the owner of their fashion company. For now on, I am your lord, and you are my servant. Although we are not allies, I want you to be my sword and shield as I run through the battle that waits at my front door, just until I can bring my enemies to their knees. When I have their heads at my feet, then ─ and only then ─ I shall let you take my life as payment in the honor of the Bakugous."
“Yes, My Lord. よくわかります .”《I understand you perfectly.》
It was almost like a marriage proposal. How fitting, Izuku remembered thinking.
Now, he was at the mercy of this human boy, more whipped than a married man on his wedding night. Kacchan didn't have any other family; it was just them and the other servants. And honestly, they forced themselves to put that day behind them, only talking about it when necessary (not that they found themselves addressing the issue often). Still, an eyepatch concealed the massive scar on the right side of Kacchan's face from where his kidnappers branded him, the only reminder from that fateful day, the closest thing they had to a wedding ring, and his anger bounded him and Izuku by the waist.
"Whoa!" the coachman cried, pulling Izuku from out of his reveries and back to the task at hand. The horses whined in response. Outside, three servants ─ Uraraka, Kaminari, and Iida ─ sat on their knees in front of an ancient Japanese manor, passed down from generation to generation after the first set of Bakugous built it with their own two hands. It was impressive as it was respectable, sat distances away from the Agoliba-Ena village east of here.
According to the murmurs of the townspeople, the entirety of the Bakugou bloodline had always been a reserved family, starting off as fishers and farmers before diverting into fashion by the time Kacchan was born; hence, the reason why their home was in a gassho-zukuri Japanese style rather than some sophisticated hut that you could find in the urban areas. To the untrained eye, the Bakugous were living handsomely, but their family have always (only) lived a decent life ─ not too impecunious and not too prosperous.
Many people thought the incident that happened years ago was because of money. When in reality, it was way more simpler than that: Mitsuki and Masaru Bakugou were too well-known, and the perpetrators thought they would have a pretty boy for a slave. Of course, Kacchan wasn't the only child they had kidnapped, but he surely was the last one standing by the time Izuku saved him from his prison.
Izuku had always known humans were monsters with gentle faces, but it still surprised him how some of their greed had no bound.
Once the carriage stopped in front of the manor, Iida, a tall and burly man with glasses, opened the door for them, moving over to the side as he bowed his head lowly, making sure not to make eye contact. Carefully, Izuku gathered Kacchan into his arms, clutching the spice into his hand, before slowly exiting out of the carriage. When Iida risked a glance up, he furrowed his eyebrows and frowned.
"Is everything okay with the young lord?" he asked.
"Oh, yes. Everything is fine. We just ran into a small problem at the store," Izuku said. "Nothing you need to worry your head over. Unfortunately, though, that does mean dinner plans have changed. Take this, and put this in the kitchen ─ its cayenne pepper. Tonight, he'll have ramen. Can you handle making it while I get him dressed in his night clothes?"
"Yes, Midoriya-sensei."
"Great. And don't forget to add egg and cut it into two. He won't eat it if you do, then you'll have to remake it and pray that he won't throw anything at you for messing up the first time."
"I won't, Sensei. Thank you for entrusting me with this important task. I shall do everything in power to make him proud."
The carriage door closing bounced off the trees, causing Kacchan to squirm in Izuku's arms with a whine. Unfazed, Izuku kept a steady grip on the young lord, but then, Kacchan's eyes snapped open. He stared at Izuku in wariness, took a glance at his home, before shoving Izuku in the face as he fought to get down.
"Put me down already! I can walk by myself," he cried.
Silently, he put Kacchan onto his feet as instructed. The clacking of the horses’ heel against the pavement and the carriage leaving was the only noise between them. A gust of wind blew through the atmosphere. When the young viscount spun on his heel, he stomped towards the manor. Izuku stayed in his place to put distance between them, hands folded in front of himself, even as the lord swayed slightly. Once he was on the porch, Kacchan stopped walking and stood before Uraraka and Kaminari, who were still kneeling.
“Why are they bowed at my feet?” Kacchan asked.
“Your custom says it’s a sign of respect,” Izuku said. "Zarei, is what it's called in this case. Did you forget that was in your studies, My Lord?"
"Piss off, Deku! I know that ─ I just…" He sighed before fixating his gaze back onto the two individuals in front of him. "Stand. There's no need to be so formal. This manor is as much as my home as it is yours. The only thing I ask is to treat it as such."
"Yes, Bakugou-sama," Uraraka and Kaminari said before rising to their feet.
After returning Kacchan back into the safety of his home and scrubbing his parents' blood off the walls, Izuku had taken on both roles as parent and mentor, two things he never experienced when he was alive.
At least, he was sure he didn't. He didn't remember much from that life.
Of course, the task had been taxing. Not only did he have to teach Kacchan Japanese etiquette and its customs, he had to teach him how to defend himself just in case something happened, and learn what made Kacchan content, as well as learn each and every detail about the Bakugous in general. But most importantly, how to be human himself. However, once the guise of lord and butler was up, he sought help elsewhere.
Iida and the other two had nothing. That's how they ended up here. Izuku had offered them shelter and food, in exchange for helping him take care of Kacchan and keeping the Bakugou manor safe. They were a bunch of naive fools, often tossing crude remarks at each other (even with their Lord around), but fools he couldn't say he minded.
"Oh, thank you, Bakugou-kun. You don't understand how rough that wood was getting on with my knees. I praise myself for having the softest skin in this house. I can’t do that if I end up with calluses all over my body," Kaminari said with a cheeky smile.
"Not that informal, you fool! Are you out of your mind? You cannot talk to the the lord like that," Uraraka scolded. “Apologize!”
“For what? Thanking him for being so considerate?”
Uraraka growled. “No, you idiot!”
Uraraka lashed out, trying to grab him, but Kaminari only dodged each advance with carefree laughter bubbling off his lips.
"Can you stay still already? GRRR!"
Wordlessly, Kacchan swerved around them and sauntered into the house. Izuku began to follow behind him with his hands behind his back, tossing a "Do something about this," over at Iida in a low tenor ─ almost threatening like thunder rumbling through the sky during a storm ─ before walking through Kaminari and Uraraka without so much as an excuse me.
"Uh ─ yes, Midoriya-sensei !" Iida said frantically. "Hey ─ hey! Knock it off, you two! That is no way to act as servants, let alone as servants of the Bakugou Manor! Are you two listening? "
Idiots, Izuku thought.
Once in the house, he slipped smoothly from out of his sandals. Sock-covered feet padded the floor before he stopped in front of Kacchan in the genkan. Kerosene lamps laid about, already lit as the day officially retired, lighting the house and Kacchan's small frame in a warm brilliance. The young boy stared down at the floor with a slight pout; the skin under his eyes was still flushed, as though he just got done drinking a bottle of sake, and his hands were folded in front of himself.
He was so beautiful like this.
Lowering himself onto his knees, his red, dragon-theme kimono folded neatly under himself, Izuku helped the viscount out of his footwear, slowly taking one off after the other as he stayed alert on the young boy's well-being. Momentarily, Kacchan's eyes fluttered shut, obviously drowsy (one of the symptoms Rodi warned them about), as he exhaled deeply from his nose, but Izuku kept his attention pinned to the task his fingers were busy with, afraid that if he acted on impulse, Kacchan would shut down as he often did when forced to deal with his feelings.
When he finished, they traveled further into the house ─ to the back, where they passed the bath, the alcove and other variants of rooms until they reached a sliding door, made from broad wood surrounding thick, opaque paper: Kacchan's room. Sliding the door open, Izuku moved over to the side to let Kacchan walk in first before following behind.
The lamp was already burning in the corner of the room behind the byobu partition as Izuku had prompted Iida to do before they left. The room itself was cozy: the plain ceiling hung over Kacchan's massive futon placed directly on the floor, pushed against a wooden headboard. Paintings of fishers, farmers and samurai lined the walls ─ a vital representation of both sides of the late Bakugous' families, and the curtains were still drawn back from this morning, presenting the lawn and the trees that stretched around the manor, proving Mother Nature was a fair lady.
Kacchan plopped down on his bed with a sigh, spreading his legs open as he leaned back on his hands.
"Deku, undress me. I'm hot, and I'm ready to retire for the day," Kacchan commanded.
"Yes, My Lord," Izuku said.
A mixture of Japanese and Westernized clothing Kacchan stitched together by hand layered the young boy's body. His white ainu robe, dotted in black geometry and orange koi fish, embroidered in skills beyond his years and an importance that screamed 'viscount' ─ all the way down to the square near the high collar surrounding his neck. To match the Koi, an orange obi held the robe together, shaped like a vast bow. The sleeves and the hem flared out around him like a Victorian dress, and the shorts and high-thigh socks he wore reached inches away from his knees.
Each outfit was made with a brilliant design. The kimono Izuku sported today was custom-made by Viscount Katsuki Bakugou himself. The clothes the servants dressed in usually were, commissioned from a small business the Bakugous built for themselves and others.
Usually, Izuku and the other male servants wore haori over their kimonos while Uraraka (the only female servant) donned a hakama over hers, paired with tabi socks and, when they weren't inside the manor, zōri sandals.
Izuku undid the obi around Kacchan's waist. Once that was off and placed neatly on the bed, Izuku opened his ainu robe, revealing perky nips perched on small knots, pink as tulips and hard as pebbles, signaling he was hitting a breedable age. At that thought, something dark twisted inside Izuku's chest, his mouth watered and his fangs extruded from their hiding. Why was this potion affecting him more than it was with Kacchan? Was his self-control really that weak because of a pair of boy tit*? The answer: yes, it was. With the softest of touches, Izuku kissed one, causing his lord to squirm.
"Deku, what the f*ck? What are you…?" Kacchan gasped.
Izuku pulled back, finding a singular, red orb glaring down at him. If his lord was disgusted, not a single trace was placed on his soft, feminine features. However, that didn't stop the confusion from knitting Kacchan’s eyebrows together.
"I'm sorry, My Lord. I couldn't help myself. I'm just worried about you, is all," Izuku cooed. It wasn't a lie. He was worried, but there was also a burning hunger that refused to die down, beckoning him to take a bite from this poisonous apple sitting in front of him. He was worse than an animal in heat.
Or maybe, at this very moment, he was an animal. If that was the case, he knew needed to be put down before he did something he couldn’t take back.
Kacchan frowned. "Yeah, well, don't let it happen again, or I'll have you sleep outside every time it rains."
"Yes, My Lord."
Silently, Izuku continued to peel Kacchan's robe from off his shoulders, showcasing snow-white skin, hinted with a tad bit of fairness from being out in the sun. He already had his bath an hour before they left for Rodi's shop, so he was already set there ─ pine tree and honey wavered off his skin to showcase his point. Still, Izuku fetched a pail of cold water to wipe the sweat from off his body. When the cloth touched him, Kacchan moaned as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.
"Dek… Deku." The word was barely a breath off the young lord's lips.
Heat traveled down Izuku's skin, soaking into every pore on his body, just to burn him within. The monster that resided within his flesh wanted out, no longer wanting to play this human/servant role. It knocked the breath from his lungs.
"Are you okay, My Lord?" Izuku asked.
"I… don't know. I feel… hmmm… weird."
"Do you want me to help fix it?"
Kacchan raised a brow, lip slightly parted. He looked dazed ─ lost. Nevertheless, his interest was obviously peaked. Although he was stubborn as he was small, an old soul planted in a body way too young for him, he was a child with morbid curiosity that needed to be quenched like the flames that resided in Izuku's veins. Within that singular eye, Izuku saw the shell of the boy Kacchan could've been if the trajectory of his life hadn't changed drastically during that night.
"Fix… it? How?" Kacchan asked.
It was such an innocent question, yet blood rushed to Izuku's sheath co*ck as heat twisted in the pit of his stomach. "I'll show you. I just need you to trust me."
Kacchan snorted. "You're the last person I trust, you ghoul."
"Of course, My Lord." Izuku grinned, expecting nothing less.
Gently, Izuku helped Kacchan further into his bed before undoing the button on his shorts and pulling his pants down. He revealed a small c*nt, surrounded by cream-blond peach fuzz that glistened with wetness. Kacchan often didn't wear underwear, always complaining about how the fabric messed with his hypersensitive skin.
So, like a prostitute, he paraded around naked in shorts, talking to anyone who gained his attention because little whor*s like him wanted men like Izuku to f*ck him stupid. And who was Izuku not to comply with his lord's orders?
Sucking in a breath, Izuku kneeled down and pushed the boy's legs apart. He rubbed his nose in Kacchan's inner thigh, getting a face of soft, human flesh that smelled like viridescence and a newborn infant. He peppered the skin in small kisses until he got to the boy's puss*. When he pulled his lips apart, a small cl*t winked at him, drying Izuku's mouth out like he swallowed a desiccated rice ball.
To a certain degree, none of this was appropriate nor ethical in this world, especially for a servant and a viscount. But Izuku couldn't find that he cared in the least. He wanted to bend, break and defile this child like a doll, see how far he could mangulate this human until his mind snapped and Izuku was all he could think about, embedded in his artery until their souls were one. He wanted Viscount Katsuki Bakugou in the worst way possible.
After all, he was a dead man that walked among the living. His morals had been since left.
Slowly, Izuku ran a thick, flat tongue from Kacchan's virgin hole to his cl*t ─ over the bud, catching his fingers in the process. Blood rushed further into his co*ck as sweet, innocent juices imploded in his mouth, as though he was Eve and Kacchan was the fruit God forbidden him from eating. But it was much too late; the Devil had a way with words to make defying God's judgment worth the consequences.
"Wait. What are you doing? Don't ─ don't do that, Deku. That's gross," Kacchan whined as his hand shot from off the bed, dainty fingers knotting into Izuku's hair.
"It's okay, My Lord. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to make you feel good. If it does hurt at any given time, just know it was an accident, and you can always command me to stop," Izuku said against his c*nt.
He looked unsure, but: "O ─ okay," was all he said.
When Kacchan didn't say anything else, Izuku kneeled down and continued, painting the inside of his vulva with his tongue before dipping the tip of muscle inside Kacchan's vagin*. The boy moaned and ground himself against Izuku's face, tightening his grip into his forest-green mane when Izuku latched onto his cl*t and sucked on it. Izuku absorbed his puss*, his tongue making sweet-love against his c*nt, slow and sensational as he lapped up Kacchan's slick, sweet as cinnamon.
With a finger, he aligned himself up against Kacchan's hole and shoved slowly until he was knuckle deep, careful not to hurt the boy under him, just in case he shut this situation down since he was still inexperienced, and oh-so f*cking tight. Then, Izuku f*cked his finger into Kacchan ─ into the wet hole that was begging for Izuku’s attentiveness. When nothing but the sound of pleasure left the lord's lips, he stuffed another one in and fingered him gradually, syncing his mouth and thrusting together.
Clatter in the kitchen filled Izuku's ears, but he ignored it as Kacchan's muscles began to spazz and tense up, causing him to jerk into himself.
"Oh, God. Oh… f*ck… please. Deku, there's a weird tightness at the bottom of my stomach! Please stop!" Kacchan cried.
"That means you're about to come, My Lord. Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Stop, and make me feel better in a different way. I don't like it."
"Yes, My Lord," Izuku said.
Obeying his lord's orders, Izuku stood back up before slowly taking his obi off from around his waist. Kacchan watched his every movement. His chest rose and fell back down while his hands laid still near his head, fingers curled lazily into his palms ─ big beads of sweat clinging to his forehead. When his obi was off, Izuku's kimono drew open, exposing fair skin and lean, taut muscles. In this form, dark green hair ran up his abdomen and his stomach was slightly bloated, something his lord obviously didn't mind as he ran his hands all over him, drinking this pretense human form up like a dehydrated man stranded in a cell.
He placed both hands on either side of his lord's head, shoulders hunched over, earning a hiss from Kacchan when he pushed his hard-on against the young boy's c*nt. Even through his underwear, Kacchan’s heat flourished between them. The feeling agitated the tautness in his garments, but the pain was worth the physical contact between him and his human.
When Izuku continued not to move, Kacchan wrapped his legs around him, pulled him close and swived his hips up and down the shaft like a beast. Izuku moaned lowly when a tingling sensation rushed up his erection and planted itself deep in his chest. The abrasion pulled his briefs down, revealing an angry co*ckhead, spilling over with precum.
From what the eye could see, veins throbbed around his length. The young boy soaked through Izuku's underwear, slick eating through the fabric and soaking the underbelly of his dick like jelly from a cactus, and their fluids mingled together.
With a growl, Kacchan snatched the rest of Izuku's dick from its confinement, and rubbed the head between the slit of his puss*. Izuku groaned at the exposure. The skin-on-skin was torturous; his skin blazed, and pressure was beginning to build in his eye ducts. He didn't know how long he was going to last like this if they kept this up, and it seemed Kacchan agreed when a harsh bleat broke from his teeth.
"Deku, please!" Kacchan cried. "I need you to f*ck me!"
"No, not until you call me the appropriate name, My Lord."
"f*ck off!" The words forced their way through his spit-covered lips.
With the curl of his upper lip, Izuku took a step back and slipped his underwear off before walking back over to him. Lining himself up, he stuck the tip of his dick in Kacchan's soaked c*nt, getting a hiss from his lord. The young boy's back arched off the bed as he gripped the sheets from under him. However, Izuku extracted out silently, eyes masked with disappointment as he glared down at this human child that he played make-believe with, in a world where death latched on every corner. He repeated this a few times ─ slipping in, but never breaking through ─ until a gross sob breached from Kacchan's mouth.
"Okay! Okay! You win, Dek ─ I mean, Midoriya-san! Please, stop teasing. I ─ I can't… " Tears poured down the young lord's rosy cheeks as his shoulders shook violently.
"No, I don't want you to call me that. Matter-of-fact, you know what name I prefer."
Kacchan dug his nails through the fabric on Izuku's back, pulling him close to hide his sniveling. "Iz… Izu─ku. Izuku! Izuku!"
"That's a good girl." Drawing back, he pinned Kacchan back to the bed with a smirk. "Was that hard?"
Kacchan shook his head, his face flushed and soaked ─ the perfect picture of an uttered, destroyed mess. God couldn't replicate something so beauteous, even if He spent every waking moment doing so, and it didn't matter if He (somehow) did eventually…
Because my Kacchan was already here first, Izuku thought. And his Kacchan was the blueprint that kept the world spinning, where every creature God built in His image ravaged to nothing but failure.
"Now, tell me what you need from me, My Lord," Izuku said.
"I need you…"
"…to?"
"f*ck me." His voice came out meek and pathetic, causing Izuku to grin wider.
“Of course. Anything for you, My Lord.”
Placing Kacchan's legs over his shoulders, Izuku grabbed his lord's thighs, snatched him forward, and slowly pushed his co*ck into the boy's c*nt, careful not to knock the pail full of cold water over that sat near his feet. The boy whined in response ─ a high pitched wail that bounced off the walls like a spoiled child on sugar. When Kacchan's vagin* squeezed around him, Izuku groaned. The stimulation almost made his knees buckle under himself, and his breath was harsh in his ears.
Once he was fully in, he stopped to give himself time to breathe, and time for Kacchan to adjust to his size. Not that he really needed it since he fit perfectly around him like a glove. Slowly, he began to f*ck deeply into Kacchan, spurring his breath to hitch as he held a cry back.
"Shush, My Princess, it's okay. I got you," Izuku said, leaning down to kiss his tears away. "My Princess is strong, and therefore, can handle it, yes?"
"Yes, Izuku," he said.
"Good girl."
Planting his feet, Izuku inched out until the tip remained. Then, he rammed back in, slamming deep into Kacchan as though he was a useless puppet. His balls slapped against flesh, and Kacchan made strangled noises from his voice catching in his throat. The headboard creaked as they ruffled the sheets. He f*cked Kacchan nasty and rough, not wasting his time on making sure the poor boy was fine. Because he was right, his young viscount knew how to take every inch of him, and he was going to do so without a complaint.
Sensuality flowed through Izuku's body like running water, and sweat dripped down his back. Kacchan shielded half of his face with his arm, head turned to the side.
While Izuku dicked him down into his pillow, Kacchan peaked at Izuku from under his arm. He tried to keep his expression neutral. But as Izuku's hips slapped forth, co*ck plunging in and out of him, his features slacked with bliss, his only eye lit up from the fire that burned within the room. Izuku shivered, and pushed one leg from off his shoulder, wrapping his arms around the other to f*cked further into him. Kacchan's puss* squealed as his org*sm started to slip from his body, filling the room in sex and sin.
"Izuku, I'm gonna… I'm… f*ck!"
"Go ahead, Princess. You've been so good for me. You deserve it."
Juices splashed between them as Izuku continued to pound inside Kacchan's tiny, naked body. The struggle cry that rippled from the boy's lips was heaven against his ears ─ an evangelical pipe dream, filled alluring music and happiness that didn’t exist anywhere else and was eligible for a selected few. Keeping his pace as he f*cked into his lord, Izuku shoved Kacchan's other leg off his shoulder, and smacked the young boy's hand away from his face to get better look at his sharp, yet delicated attributes that was covered in spit, tears and snot.
In the warm light, the young boy's body was doused in sweat that glistened like the sun glittering off the Pacific Ocean. Their image echoed back at them from the window, but Izuku only heeded the young lord's small tit* bouncing excitedly upon white flesh, squashed between ribs Izuku could easily use as toothpicks. Kacchan's neck ─ lathered with skin ─ looked easy to pull off the bone, above a collarbone Izuku only dreamed of sinking his teeth into.
It set his skin ablazed.
Under Kacchan's org*sm, a strong foreboding aroma penetrated the atmosphere, dire as a warning, setting goosebumps all over Izuku's skin. The color drained from Kacchan's features. And that one eye that had seen all of Hell, widened with fear. Izuku's eyebrows furrowed; he hadn't witnessed Kacchan this scared since his lord was a babe. But within those glassy pupils, Izuku's reflection reflected back at him. Little by little, Izuku's human charade slipped from his grasp. The beast he fought to keep tamed bared its fangs, and he was the monster that he only (wooly) talked about with his lord.
At least, on one side, he was. The left side of his face burst open, showing rows after rows of teeth placed on swollen, black gums. Each tooth was sharp as claws and a seaweed-green brilliance penetrated the muscle. The same color ensue over his fair skin, and a neon parakeet-green eye nullified the "normal" shade of green his lord was accustomed to. Dark tendrils, thick as trees and dripping with goo, ascended from off his body, as though they had a mind of their own.
Izuku bit his lower lip and grinned widely.
With one hand, Izuku grabbed Kacchan's throat and squeezed the sides, causing Kacchan to gasp and choke out as Izuku's hips lashed out, beating on him with a punishment worthy of a viscount. Pressure built itself at the pit of Izuku's abdominal region as his balls tightened and tension shot through his co*ck. Then, an animalistic growl rumbled deep from his sternum as he pumped the young lord with his cum, with babies Izuku hoped his Kacchan would end up full and round with, earmarked as his greatest prized possession, something that would truly bind their souls together.
Eventually, his movements ended up getting clumsy and out of sync ─ eyes shut tight while a white haze covered his vision. And once done, he collapsed on top of Kacchan, both sweaty and tired from their activities. He folded his arms underneath Kacchan's head, a way to hold him while keeping his weight contained. The quietness swallowed them, the only sound being Kacchan's harsh breathing. Izuku was glad he sound-proofed this room a while ago; otherwise, he was sure, not only the other servants, but the village over would’ve heard them.
And they had to keep their “servant and lord” ruse up until Kacchan could seek his vengeance. After that… Well, the gods could choose to reveal their secret or not. It wouldn't matter because Viscount Katsuki Bakugou would be dead at that point, as pre-promised.
A knock on the latticework wood around the sliding door struck through Izuku's ears, causing him to snap his head towards it. Quickly, he jumped up and threw on his kimono, not bothering to properly fasten it. When the shoji slithered open, he planted himself behind it and poked his head through. Red eyes filled with concern met green ones veneered with innocence.
"Iida-san," Izuku said, "so glad that you're here. I just finished getting the lord dressed. Did you cut the eggs into two and put them inside of the ramen like I asked you to?"
Iida nodded. "Yes, Sensei. Uh…" A pause. "Why are you hiding behind the shoji? Is everything alright?"
The corner of his mouth twitched. Damn this brainiac oaf for being so cognizant about everything! Unlike the other two, who were more dumb than pebbles at the bottom of Japan's oldest rivers. Why couldn't he be more like them? he wondered.
Still, Izuku smiled, a tight-pinch pull of the lips to quell his worries. It didn't. "Of course. The lord just doesn't feel well, and I don't want to disturb him with anything that isn't necessary. You understand, right?"
"Ye ─ yeah, I guess so."
Iida's eyes narrowed behind his glasses as horror lined his lips like lipstick, very much aware of the situation that just occurred between Izuku and their lord. Simply though, Izuku reached for the bowl in Iida’s hands before snatching it out of his grasp. He shut the door closed and spun on his heel with a sigh. Snoring congested the space from where Kacchan laid naked.
Leaning his head back against the opaque paper, Izuku knew damn well he was going to have his work cut out for him tomorrow, especially with Kacchan’s meeting being first thing in the morning. But right now, he needed to clean the mess he and Kacchan made before he could allow himself to dwell on any of that.
"These designs are beautiful and very inspiring," the Meiji Empress, Eri Chisaki, said. "You have a great eye for attention and detail ─ something our world lacked in the Edo period, but something I want to build our generation on, so Japan's future can thrive on a new world our ancestors never had."
Katsuki bowed his head. "Thank you, Empress. I got the idea from a small island located northern from our great nation, and westernized countries like Europe, mixing the old with the new. With these designs, I wanted to capture the new era you are thrusting us through, a way that says, 'I am here,' in a bold, yet elegant fashion. As that said, I cannot take all the credit. Because it is you who inspires me."
They sat in the tokonoma, the heart of the Bakugou Manor, placed on their knees in front of a table that sat lowly to the ground. Tea cups on coasters oozing with steam and different types of sweets on small plates were presented in front of them, each dessert matching the season of the tokonoma, which offered a friendly vibe of its own to set the mood.
Gratefully, the zabuton cushioned their knees against the tatami , their feet padded with white socks. The sun lit the room in mirth and warmth, highlighting vases, hanging scrolls, and incense burners, simple, yet expensive merch, resonating the Japanese value of “wabi-sabi” while also informing the Empress of Katsuki's wealth (which wasn't much). Birds chirped and the trees rustled outside the window, signaling that winter had officially past and spring was here.
Katsuki was perched with his back straightened in front of the shoji while the Empress hunkered herself across from him, swathed in a different, festive layers called jūnihitoe ─ kimono-like robes, each fabric larger and thinner to show each piece of clothing underneath. A thin, golden tiara enclosed around her forehead ─ over the black wig, shaped in a bob, that fell down her features, wreathed with light makeup.
She was no older than eight, having to serve the Japanese Imperial Court after Tomura Shigaraki, the leader of a hidden group called the Paranormal Liberation, assiassated her father in his throne room during his tea time. Not that Emperor Kai Chisaki didn't derserve it in some way. That man had been a cruel ruler, with the ideaology that men like him were destined for something greater ─ that he was an untouchable force, as though he was God. He proved to be an dangerous leader, highly unstabled.
Still, it left a child responsible for a whole country…
In the Empress' hands, thin, beige-colored papers brushed her fingers as she scanned through Katsuki's designs, ruby-red eyes lit up with child-like glee. He made sure to give her his best works. The ones he created once he had been settled into his new reality when he took his father's title. Each depiction represented the death of the old Katsuki Bakugo, as well as the birth of Viscount Katsuki Bakugou that rose from the ashes like a phoenix. The Katsuki that sat before the Empress right now was the Katsuki he and Izuku built together when Izuku walked into his life.
He wouldn’t admit it to that ghoul, but those outfits meant everything to him.
On one side of the room, the outfits Katsuki made, alongside the men and women that worked in his company, were draped on hangers, dangling from a baggage trolley ─ each piece of clothing refined and clean. And on the other side, Izuku rested on his knees with his hands poised on his lap next to the Empress' adviser, Hitoshi Shinsou, a purple-headed man with dark bags under his eyes, and only known for a few words. The three of them wore kimonos , Shinsou and Izuku suited black while Katsuki don in white and orange, matching well with the tokonoma whilst staying respectful and simple to the Crown.
Very subtly, a small smile made its way on Izuku's face, reserved only for him. No longer the beast that f*cked him last night.
"Clothes are a high statement ─ a way to connect with like-minded people, and tell the world who you are where words fail to announce that," The Empress said, dragging Katsuki's attention back to her. "I want you in my council as my personal designer. And in return, although you are last remaining member standing, I shall reinstate the Bakugous' reputation and pay you handsomely for your service. Do we have a deal?"
No one knew this, but Katsuki didn't get his title from his father. It was his mother who came from a family of well-respected samurais, where his father was born into a family of hard-working farmers and fishers. And it was her who asked him for his hand in marriage. Of course, that had caused some issues within their social hierarchy, but with the the support of their families, their love prevailed. And so, when they married, she took his last name, and gave him the viscount title before producing an heir.
But then, years later, the human hands of greed slaughtered them in the dead of the night. That’s when Katsuki vowed to return the same wrath to those who decided to make an enemy out of the Bakugous. Being in the Empress' circle would bring them out like rats to cheese set in a mouse trap. If he played his cards right, that would be sooner rather than later.
Katsuki grinned. "Yes, Your Majesty. I love would too. When will you like me to start?”
