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    Summary

    It felt pretty stupid at first, just lying there while Shouto frosted him like a fuckin’ cupcake. The frosting was cold while Katsuki’s face burned with the intensity of a thousand suns.

    But now he watches, excitement and embarrassment emanating from him in equal amounts as Shouto takes in his handiwork. The dollops and smears of whipped frosting across his chest and abdomen, in the small hollow between his collarbones.

    Katsuki tugs at the makeshift restraints around his wrists and ankles, unable to keep from squirming at the way Shouto’s pupils completely engulf his irises at the sight of him.

    How the hell did he let himself be talked into being the fuckin’ dessert on his own goddamn birthday?

    Sometimes, frosting can be spicy. ;)

    Series
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