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Doctor Bakugou is a good kisser.
Shouto wonders if he’s supposed to know that. If—if doctor Bakugou offers to touch all his patients like he touches Shouto when they’re feeling nervous.
He doesn’t like that thought, and it must show, because doctor Bakugou pulls back, a hand still cupping Shouto’s chin, and says, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” before rubbing his thumb back and forth across Shouto’s lower lip.
Shouto opens up for it on instinct, takes it into his mouth until doctor Bakugou is pushing down on his tongue. It’s embarrassing, but it always gets Shouto so wet between his thighs when he puts his fingers in Shouto’s mouth. Well—when he puts his fingers in him anywhere, really, but he can’t help that.
(Doctor Bakugou says he needs to check that Shouto’s pussy is soft and wet enough, and that’s why he spends so long rubbing him from the inside without his gloves on. And—and it’s okay if Shouto feels really good and tenses up and twitches in that time, because it means he’s reactive enough, and it spares doctor Bakugou from having to check for that separately. He still takes Shouto’s puffy clit into his mouth after, though.)
“Fuck,” doctor Bakugou says now. “Such a good kitty, aren’t you?”
“Wanna be full,” Shouto slurs around his fingers. “Please, I need it.”
Honestly, Shouto doesn’t get why doctor Bakugou never fucks him. He already knows he doesn’t have a knot. It’s not like he’s expecting it to swell up in him and stretch his pussy like it would if he was a hybrid too. But—but he’s grinded against the bulge in his pants and had it in his mouth enough to know it’s pretty big anyways, and he wants—he wants to feel it inside.
Doctor Bakugou laughs. It’s not mean, exactly, but it still sends shivers down Shouto’s spine. “Not now, baby,” he says, so soft Shouto feels like he might melt where he stands. “We’re not done with your checkup, remember?”
His checkup. Right. That’s why doctor Bakugou was kissing him. Because Shouto always gets so jittery before these things. They used to hurt, sometimes. Before he started seeing doctor Bakugou. And none of his other doctors ever touched him like this. He’s not—
Shouto’s nose scrunches. He’s not sure he would have wanted them to, anyway. Doctor Bakugou is different, though.
Of course he is.
“Will you kiss me more after?” Shouto blurts.
“Sure,” doctor Bakugou coos. “Anything you want, pretty kitty.”
Shouto’s cheeks burn. He wants everything. “Can I… have it in my mouth?” he asks shyly.
Doctor Bakugou doesn’t let him do that a lot. Always worried about bruising and Shouto hurting himself and the little furrow in his eyebrows when he swallows. Because he always does. He’s a good kitty. He wants to be a good kitty for doctor Bakugou, wants to make him feel as good as he makes Shouto feel.
Besides, Shouto’s pretty sure he’s already a little hard. He felt it poking his thigh when they kissed. And if that’s what a little hard looks like, he definitely needs doctor Bakugou’s thick cock stretching his pussy.
Doctor Bakugou sighs fondly. “The things you do to me,” he says, running a hand through Shouto’s hair before stroking his cat ears. “C’mon, baby, up.”
He helps Shouto sit on the examination chair, both hands on his waist to help him settle. God, his panties are so wet. Doctor Bakugou already helped him get out of everything else, unbuttoned each button until he was pulling Shouto’s clothes off one by one himself, and now Shouto’s sitting in nothing but his wet panties, and he wonders if doctor Bakugou noticed when he switched from comfortable cotton to see-through lace, already darker between his thighs from the slick.
“Are you shy?” doctor Bakugou asks. His eyes are dark, gaze focused where Shouto is pressing his thighs together, barely any pressure on his pulsing clit but still better than nothing. He places a hand on Shouto’s knee, pushes at it. “We’ve done this a lot, haven’t we?”
Shouto nods. “Yes,” he says, unable to keep his pout to himself. “We have.”
They have, and it always leave his pussy sore but not sated, and no matter what, doctor Bakugou won’t fuck him. Last time, he kept that vibrating toy in him for what felt like hours, and his thighs got all drenched in his own slick, and when he did finally pull it out, he just stroked a finger over Shouto’s puffy clit and called him a good kitty.
Sometimes, Shouto misses the gloves.
The first few times, doctor Bakugou kept them on, and having those long fingers rubbing his pussy from the inside at least felt a little less intense. These days he doesn’t even bother with lube, though. Always gets Shouto wet himself first. Just sitting in the waiting room has slick leaking out of his pussy and getting his panties all sticky between his thighs. And then doctor Bakugou will call him sweet things like they’re just for Shouto, and Shouto doesn’t even care anymore, just wants to spread himself open for him.
“Don’t pout,” doctor Bakugou says. “I’ll make you feel good.”
And then he’s tugging Shouto’s panties down his thighs and past his knees and—and finally he takes the little scrap of wet fabric and puts it in one of the pockets of his white coat.
God, does he really like Shouto that much? He can’t even smell his slick like another hybrid would.
Shouto is so exposed like this, too, feet in the stirrups now that he got his panties off, pussy glistening with wetness between his thighs, doctor Bakugou looking at him like he’s the prettiest thing in the world.
He pushes two fingers in immediately, and Shouto is so wet and used to the stretch it barely feels like anything until doctor Bakugou starts curling them upwards. And then even more slick wets doctor Bakugou’s fingers, and he keeps going until a third one slips inside and it’s still not enough and Shouto wants to beg for moremoremore like he always does, tears stinging in the corners of his eyes, but this time doctor Bakugou doesn’t tease him.
Maybe he’s impatient too, because instead the fourth finger slips in easily, and he’s up to the last knuckle in Shouto’s pussy, only the thumb keeping him from fucking him deeper, and immediately Shouto blurts, “Put your whole hand in.”
It’s such a good fullness when he does that, Shouto’s pussy all pink and stretched around his fingers, then his whole hand, and then his arm, doctor Bakugou’s whole fist inside him. The first time they tried it like that, Shouto was gaping a little after, and he looked doctor Bakugou in the eyes and asked if his pussy would close up right again or if he would always need something inside it from now on.
It’s embarrassing to think of now, but—
It’s good.
Shouto likes being a good kitty, but he always likes being nice and full, too, and doctor Bakugou knows how to take care of that for him.
“Yeah?” he asks. “You sure? You think this little pussy can take a fist? But you’re already so stretched, princess.”
And he presses down on Shouto’s lower abdomen with his free hand as he speaks, pulls out just enough to try and press his thumb in at the same time, and Shouto—Shouto twitches and clenches around doctor Bakugou’s fingers and comes.
Doctor Bakugou doesn’t stop. “There we go,” he says, sounding pleased. “Nice and pliant.”
And then his thumb slips all the way in, his hand in Shouto’s pussy up to the wrist, and when he curls it into a first inside Shouto, Shouto lets out a needy little mewl, trying uselessly to spread his thighs wider.
When he keeps going just like that, Shouto gets the urge to hide.
It sounds so wet, doctor Bakugou fucking his pussy with his whole fist.
That’s—that’s because Shouto is that wet, right? Because he likes having his pussy stretched and played with as long as it’s doctor Bakugou fucking him like he owns him? Because it feels good, no matter how much Shouto whines at him to stop while doctor Bakugou coos that his pretty kitty can take more and fucks him harder instead?
Shouto wants it. He wants doctor Bakugou to own him, to fuck him whenever he wants, to keep him on his cock all the time, rub Shouto’s puffy clit some more when he starts whining about being sore.
He’d never even—
No one had touched him from the inside before doctor Bakugou.
And now Shouto can take a whole first in his pussy, doctor Bakugou’s hand sliding in all the way to the widest part of his forearm, pressing so deep, Shouto’s pussy trying uselessly to clench around it while he bites his lip to stifle his whines.
“Do you—ah, do you do this for all your patients?” Shouto blurts deliriously. He feels so wet. Somehow, it’s still not full enough. Maybe—maybe if Bakugou put his cock in too, then it would feel nice and full inside?
“Shouto,” doctor Bakugou says fondly. “You know you’re my only hybrid patient, right?”
Oh, that’s—
Shouto clenches up tighttighttight again, shakes through some more pleasure.
“Don’t you like humans?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed.
Doctor Bakugou laughs. “Hybrids are required more thorough checkups by law,” he says. “Most of my other patients just come in asking for certain tests or because they need a prescription after already getting the answers.”
And—and he says that with his hand is still in Shouto.
“Why haven’t you asked me out, then?” Shouto asks. “Shouldn’t you have—ah, started there?”
Bakugou licks his teeth. “This was more fun,” he admits, fucking deeper inside Shouto.
And then Shouto’s coming a third time, so nothing else matters.
…
Eventually, after cleaning up all the slick, Shouto pouts enough at him to get them to go on a real date.
They get ice cream.
Well—
Shouto gets it, and doctor Bakugou—ahem, Katsuki, he said to call him Katsuki—laughs at him for picking strawberry and vanilla, holding the cone up next to Shouto’s head after he pays for it and saying you match.
Shouto isn’t quite so sure he likes him anymore.
He says as much out loud, which prompts Katsuki to tug him close by the waist and nip at his cat ear before saying, “Really, princess?”
Shouto shivers.
“Maybe—maybe just a little,” he admits. “You know, when you’re nice to me.”
“I’m always nice to you,” Katsuki protests. “Thought you noticed. I was trying my best.”
Shouto’s face warms, images of Katsuki trying his best while keeping his thighs spread and lapping between them rushing to the forefront of his mind. They’ve already done so much, so this shouldn’t be the part that makes Shouto want to press his face into Katsuki’s neck and hide because it doesn’t matter if he feels the heat on Shouto’s skin as long as he gives him a bit of warmth in return.
It is, though.
Because—
“I wasn’t sure,” Shouto admits. “I haven’t done this a lot.”
“What?” Katsuki asks incredulously. “Gone on dates?”
“Mm,” Shouto nods, giving his ice cream a tentative lick before it starts to melt down his wrist. “I wasn’t allowed when I still lived at home. And then—I didn’t want to, I guess.”
(And then he met Katsuki, and he started wanting a whole lot of things for the first time ever, but that’s—can he say that yet?)
“Lucky me,” says Katsuki. “Guess I get to keep you, huh?”
Shouto stills. He was under the impression that their current arrangement involved him pouting for a real date and Katsuki paying for his ice cream and maybe also getting to have his preferred kind of sweet treat if their date ended up going well, but—
“You want to?”
Katsuki scoffs. “Course I do,” he says. “What idiot wouldn’t?”
Shouto bites at the inside of his cheek. “Then why—?”
He’s not even sure what he wants to ask. Is Katsuki ashamed of him? Was he content with just seeing Shouto for his monthly checkups after his heats and touching him as much as he could and then watching him tug his panties back up his thighs and wince a little while he sits up because he’s all sore? Was Shouto just—convenient enough or pretty enough or—or maybe just wet enough for him to fuck?
“Guess I’m a coward,” Katsuki admits. “You’re my patient. And hybrid laws are already kind of fucked up, I didn’t want you to think—”
“Oh,” Shouto says softly. It’s sweet, really, but—, “So making me squirt was still okay?”
Because he did. And the first time it happened Shouto was so mortified about getting Katsuki’s coat dirty that he kept saying sorry until Katsuki tipped his chin up to make him look at him in the eye and said it’s okay, sweetheart, it’s fuckin’ hot.
“You liked it, didn’t you?” Katsuki grumbles, the tips of his ears a little red.
Shouto leans up on the tips of his toes. “Yeah,” he says, pressing his lips to Katsuki’s cheek. “I did. So I think you should do it again.”
…
It’s—
It’s not too bad, actually, dating Katsuki.
He walks Shouto all the way to his apartment and everything, and Shouto’s the one who lingers outside expecting a kiss, digs his teeth into his lower lip and asks, “Do you want to come in?” when Katsuki doesn’t kiss him breathless and whisper good night princess into his mouth, a parting gift pressed to his parted lips.
Katsuki looks like he very much does want to, and there’s something boyish in how he rubs at the back of his neck and says, “I shouldn’t, you know,” instead, and it’s almost enough for it to slip Shouto’s mind how intimately familiar he is with the prickle of Katsuki’s stubble on the insides of his thighs.
Almost, though. So he tugs on Katsuki’s sleeve, lower lip jutting out, and says, “I never did get to do what I wanted, last time, you know.”
…
They’ve never kissed like this before, not without Shouto having the handy little excuse of nerves. Katsuki is kissing him now, though, hand big and warm on Shouto’s cheek as he tips his chin up, the same hand that tugged on his lower lip before he leaned in to kiss the swell of it, and now Shouto is pressed to his own ratty old couch, and Katsuki is leaning over him, and—
And Shouto is the one who pulls away, voice heavy with want, and says, “Please let me suck your cock now.”
Katsuki laughs. “Fuck,” he says. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“No,” Shouto says petulantly. “Not now. You can die later.”
It’s easy. They’ve done this part. So Shouto slides to his knees and presses his hand over the bulge in Katsuki’s trousers, unzips them and pulls him out.
Katsuki’s cock is pretty. Big and flushed and wet at the tip. Shouto’s fingers almost don’t meet all the way around the base of it, and he makes sure to meet his eyes first, before leaning down to take the head into his mouth.
“Fuck,” Katsuki hisses, a hand tangling in Shouto’s hair, mindful of his cat ears. “Fuck, look at you.”
“You’re the one supposed to look,” Shouto says, pulling off to dip his tongue into the dripping slit. Katsuki’s cock twitches in his palm, more come dripping out and smearing before it drips down Shouto’s mouth.
Katsuki looks.
(Katsuki keeps looking until he’s coming down Shouto’s throat. Katsuki keeps looking until Shouto wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and leans up, eyes pleading. Katsuki keeps looking until Shouto presses his lips to Katsuki’s, and then he kisses him again.)
…
They go on another date.
This time, Shouto gets homemade cheesecake instead of ice cream.
He watches Katsuki meticulously cut strawberries to put on top of it for decoration, and his mouth purses, wondering if he’s teasing him again. It does seem like a very Katsuki thing to go out and buy strawberries just for that.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, most likely noticing Shouto’s pout.
Shouto is in nothing but a borrowed shirt, long and loose on him, and it almost surprises him, for a second. How comfortable he’s gotten. How little it took. How he just had to ask for it, and they fell into place together.
Shouto’s mouth twitches. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says. “I just realized I like you a lot.”
“Just now realized, huh?” Katsuki says, too soft to be properly offended. “Guess I gotta try harder, sweetheart.”
Shouto plucks a strawberry from the bowl next to Katsuki on the countertop. “No,” he says. “You’re doing fine.”
Katsuki doesn’t scold him for it, but he does pull Shouto into his lap once he’s done decorating and lick the strawberry juice from his mouth.
It’s nice. Sweet.