𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥

i didn't find the oneshot, but i made another one

whump

torture ( corset piercings, implied replaced limbs, dress up / makeup, tight corsets, )

momobaku

implied brainwashing

🎀🎀🎀

katsuki thinks he looks very pretty. (u̶g̶l̶y̶,̶ ̶h̶e̶'̶s̶ ̶U̶G̶L̶Y̶)

his mistress puts on the most prettiest makeup on him. pretty glossy red lips that were made to be kissed, yet not tainted.

eyeliner that makes his eyes pop! out, showing off his shiny and bright red eyes that glows with excitement every waking moment in his new life.

the prettiest orange eyeshadow that wasn't heavy. wasn't too light. was just right for people to know that it was there. little glitters brushed right on top of the makeup.

he didn't need blush, of course not. his cheeks were already pretty enough. he didn't need it - not at all. his pretty rosy cheeks said well enough.

and then came his nails. covered in a pretty emerald green with the prettiest jewel on top of the ring fingers. they were short, yet pretty. kept all clean and formal.

his dress looked very pretty too; a mixture of orange, green and red joined together. he frowned when he realised that the dress hadn't fit him, but then his mistress had a bright idea.

it hurted, but he could take it. the way the piercings went through his flesh like a needle. it stuck there for a long time alongside the pretty corset mistress had picked out for him. red ribbons had joined the piercings, and met with the red top part of the dress.

"does... does it fit now?" he asks, soft and gentle. he bit his lip in anticipation, looking at the stylist. they nod wordlessly, looking at katsuki with worried eyes as he basically jumped up and down.

"ah- ow..." he mumbles, forcing his hand to work. he grimaced, hand acting all wonky. he doesn't get it, he had this hand for what? 4 years now? why doesn't it still not work, huh?

he remembers his old hand. oh well. it's probably dead, now. this new and pretty hand he has was more flexible alongside his arms and legs. he remembers how hard it was to move around. he needed help from the others to move. needed help to move his legs.

then came the moving his feet. then his arms. then his hands. he remembers how hard it was back then and how limp and dead his new limbs were. before he got them, there was a little memory of him screaming. being defiant, he cringes.

he's so lucky he had a nice teacher who taught him how to be good. because if he didn't, he fears something bad would've happened to him...

well, he suppose he can't help that. he just has to keep facing foward, right? he glances down to see a green skirt that goes down to his ankles. his feet covered up with shiny red heels. he can't wait for them to finish..!

he can't breath, but that's alright. because now that they were finished, katsuki waits for his mistress to come and pick him up. he sees that the stylist was looking at him sadly. he tilts his head, wondering why. but decides not to think about it. he has more important things to do.

for instance, seeing momo outside, waving for katsuki to come out. he quickly waves by to the stylist and rushes to his mistresses arms. her arms always felt warm and comforting. especially after a full day of performing.

she murmurs soft words to him. soft promises and gentle reminders about things he didn't have to worry about. one of them being having to worry about the holes in his forearms and knees.

he hums, eyes lovingly gazing up at her as they enter the car. he listens to everything she has to say. he was good enough to not interrupt her. especially when she's speaking about her day at work.

katsuki can hear a small voice in his head, and he frowns. but he doesn't pay mind to it. instead, he just mindlessly listens to his mistress as if it were first nature to him.

"how was your day?" she asks, hands scratching his scalp pleasurably.

"hmm... well, first me and eijiro had to perform for these little kids.. they were so scared and we didn't know why..." he begins.

momo listens, eyes filled with adoration.

you can't say that these two didn't love (h̶a̶t̶e̶) each other.