God We Really Took The Phrases “My Dad’s An Asshole” And “big House, No Parents” And Made Steve

Hey could you do a mha smut with aizawa x female reader x shinso please. Thank you l also love you work

Private Lessons

Summary: Even as a Pro Hero Shinso Hitoshi goes to his sensei for advice on everything...even you.

Warnings: NSFW. 18+ only. Minors DNI. Aged-up Characters, use of (Y/N)—SORRY, threesome (mmf), fingering, oral (f and m receiving), inexperienced!reader, sexually ignorant!reader, slightlyinexperienced!Shinso, experienced!Aizawa, talks about safe sex and consent (very sexy, very necessary), talks about mental health and sex, safe words, lessons on sex, insecurity, talks of issues in the bedroom, issues with completion (it happens ladies, it's normal), unprotected sex (wrap it up people!), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, past ShinKami, pet names (princess, babygirl, whore), sir kink, slight daddy kink, power play, double penetration, light choking (?). Please let me know if I forgot anything! Hope you enjoy and remember to show some love by liking, commenting, and reblogging!

Word Count: 5.6k

Shinso looks like absolute shit. Sleep has been evading him lately, not that this was anything new, but the problem had worsened recently. And apparently, Aizawa had noticed. Shota watches him drain the nausea-inducing Irish coffee, the drink loaded with an indeterminable amount of sugar supplements. Aizawa is a caffeine lover and an advent alcohol drinker—way to sound like a fellow sleep-deprived alcoholic—but the sight before him just seemed too pitiful for a late-night patrol. He couldn't keep quiet anymore.

"Y'know, it's the shit-ton of sugar in your coffee there that give you the mind-numbing headaches, not the alcohol."

Hitoshi isn't even phased by the obvious callout to his drinking while on duty. The twenty-two-year-old just lets out a soft huff before taking another swig of his nearly depleted beverage. "Gonna let the Hero Commission know, partner?"

"Not my style, kid," Shota says, ignoring the pang of anger and hurt at the questioning of his loyalties.

"Not a kid anymore, old man," Hitoshi reminds, swirling the nonexistent remains of his drink.

"Really?" Aizawa questions, arms crossing and voice dropping into that teacher tone of his. "Then why are you throwing a tantrum like one?" Shinso, at least, has the decency to look ashamed then. He digests the words, a hand pressing into his forehead and then dragging down his sullen face. "The hell is going on with you, Hitoshi?"

The young man hesitates, weighing how much he wishes to divulge to his mentor, hero partner, and friend. "It's...it's (Y/N)." Aizawa raises an eyebrow at that.

"I thought everything was fine?" Shota muses thoughtfully. "You seemed to really like her."

"I do," Hitoshi snaps desperately before lulling into a softer, measured tone. "I do. I really like her—love her, actually. It's just..."

Aizawa has some impressive tolerance from his years of teaching, but this moment, the suspense of waiting, could dismantle the reputation that he had acquired as a patient man. "Just what, Hitoshi?"

"We're having some issues in the bedroom," he finally blurts out. He says it so quickly that Shota nearly misses what is uttered by the younger man. When the words connect to their meanings in his mind his head shakes as if he'd been slapped with the sentence.

"What?" The question leaves his lips unnecessarily; he already knows what was said.

Hitoshi groans in place of an answer. "Please don’t make me repeat it." Shota only rolls his eyes at the immaturity of it all. How can this boy give you the pleasure you need if he can’t even convey his problem without a tinge of embarrassment on his cheeks?

"So what are you doing wrong then?" The older man asks plainly.

"Why do you assume I’m doing something wrong?" Aizawa’s brow raises. "Okay, yeah, it’s me." Too easy.

"So what are you lacking in the bedroom?"

"Woah, hey," Hitoshi defends. "I’m not ‘lacking’ anything, okay? Everything works and is in great shape. So get that out of your head."

"Wasn’t thinking that until just now." Shinso only rolls his eyes, but his blush and the grumble bubbling in his throat betray him. “Kid, you’re not gonna fix the issue unless you talk about it and I’m not gonna play this guessing again for both of our sakes. So just tell me."

"I can’t make her cum." Oh. Not what Shota was expecting but not a completely unexpected answer. "And now she thinks she’s broken or some shit 'cause she can’t and I didn’t really help with that…I’m just a big fucking mess really."

Aizawa nods thoughtfully, taking a moment to think about this carefully before offering any advice. He can work with this. It’s easier than trying to retrain Hitoshi if his issue was more of a premature one. "It may just be a mental thing for both of you. How responsive is she usually? Is it just that she’s struggling during penetrative sex or can she not cum when you go down on her too?" Aizawa is in total teacher mode, uncaring about the awkwardness of the conversation and ignoring that he’s encouraging locker room discussion with a former student and aiding in the affairs of his closest mentee. Maybe some would consider this to be unethical, but Shota thought that once you’ve dodged death alongside a person, regardless of age or a former student-teacher relationship, the perception of professionalism goes out the window and is replaced with something slightly more concrete: friendship. And his friend needed help. How could Shota say no to that?

However, Hitoshi shouldn’t be looking so sheepish. His eyes avoid Shota’s and his face retreats into the capture weapon around his neck. "Ah, well…I haven’t really gone down on her…"

The older man stops, looking at his mentee with an air of bewilderment. "Excuse me?"

"I—look, I’m just not sure—"

"You’ve been with her for months now," he interrupts. "You haven’t gone down on the poor girl once?"

"Isn’t it obvious that I’m not sure what I’m doing?" He exasperated. "I was only with Denki before, so the anatomy is a bit different." His arms cross and a scowl takes over his features and suddenly Aizawa sees the lost and confused kid he first met in the hallowed halls of U.A. The kid he swore to help in any way he needed.

"Look, maybe I could help you," his gruff voice offers before common sense can catch up to him.

"Help me how exactly?"

"Hey, Hito, I’m home!" You call out to your boyfriend as you enter your shared apartment, armfuls of groceries in hand. "Hope you’re hungry," you say as you slip out of your shoes and into the house slippers, the bags juggling precariously in your grasp. "I’m making my specialty honey walnut shrimp! There should be plenty for you to pack for tomorrow." You make your way through your home, plopping the groceries on the kitchen counter as you start unloading the food. You notice the bedroom light on and assume he’s in there as you continue talking. "And I can pack extra if ‘Zawa wants some too. He eats just about as much as you do so both of your bentos better be empty, got it?"

"I’m flattered that you think of me," a gruff voice interrupts the one-way conversation, your shoulders jumping up with the sound. Turning you find just the devil leaning against the doorframe, dark eyes staring at you through darker locks.

"Geez, Mr. Aizawa, you scared me!" You pant dramatically, a hand pressed over your heart. His eyes glance down at the motion before chuckling softly.

"How many times have I told you, kid?" He asks nonchalantly, pushing off the frame and walking towards you leisurely, hands buried in his pockets. "Call me Shota."

You respond with a mock salute and a sarcastic "Yes, sir." Shota decidedly ignores the hint of sass you throw his way and only acknowledges your words with a slight hmph. "So, where is my sleepless beauty?"

"Bedroom," he answers shortly and nods in the direction of the room's entrance. "He needs to talk to you. I’ll deal with the groceries."

"Shota, I can’t let you put the groceries away," you wave him off. "You’re a guest."

"Hmm…just go talk to your boy, okay?" He not-so-subtly urges you away from the bags of food on your kitchen counter in favor of shoving you in the direction of your shared bedroom. You relent and invite yourself into the room, curiosity overtaking your hostess skills.

"Hito?" Your lavender-haired boyfriend pokes his head out of your bathroom, towel-dried hair sticking up at odd angles and skin still prickled in beads of his evident shower. In lieu of a simple greeting, you're met with a set of arms wrapping around your torso, your body lifts into the air and is spun while you’re being smothered with kisses. You’re sent into a fit of giggles until he reluctantly pulls away, his face hovering mere millimeters away from yours. "Hi to you too."

He offers a barely there smile before his lips quirk down again, a serious expression overtaking his features. "Hey, can I talk to you about something?"

"Does it have to do with ‘Zawa being in our kitchen?" You guess. He shrugs.

"Sorta." He pulls you toward the bed and takes a seat on the edge, dragging you down to sit next to him. "We need to talk about…our sex life."

"Oh." You breathe in deeply through your nose. "What does that have to do with—"

"I’ll get to that part," he assures softly, grasping your hands in his. You take the opportunity to stare down at your joined hands, watching the way his thumbs circle into the joints of your smaller hands. "Look, I know that our sex life hasn’t been the best." Your head snaps up to him at that, your mouth ready to conjure up a thousand excuses but he holds his hand up to silence all of them. "No, it’s okay. We need to air that out so we can work on getting better," he whispers gently. The hand he had raised comes down to gently cup your cheek and bring your forehead to rest against his. "I know that you haven’t been finishing and that’s not fair. We gotta fix that."

"I’m sor—"

"Nope," he interrupts, shaking his head and pulling you into his lap. You allow yourself to be cradled in his arms, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. "Nope. Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault."

"But it's not about you, really!" you sigh. "I don't know what's wrong with me...I can’t finish with or without your help…and I don't understand why."

"Hey," he softly soothes, those slender fingers carding through your locks and gently scratching your scalp. "It’s okay. Listen, do you trust me?" You nod softly into him, cuddling further into his embrace until he gingerly pulls you apart from him to look into your eyes. "We gotta sort this out…and I think we need help from someone more experienced than us." Your brow furrows in thought and then you remember that Aizawa is in your apartment at this moment, and your brows shoot up and your eyes widen.

"You mean…"

"Yeah," he breathes out, a callused palm pressing to your jaw and a rough thumb softly brushing over your cheek. "He kinda noticed my mood drop lately…and we got to talking…I think he could help. He’s definitely wiser than we are." He chuckles in an attempt to lighten the mood but you only stare on, expression not giving anything away to the roaring thoughts thundering through your head. "We don’t have to. One word from you and we stop this. Pretend it never even happened."

"But…you want to do this?" You ask cautiously, studying the purple of his irises.

"Yes," he answers. There’s no wavering, no hesitation. "This and whatever else it takes to make you happy." His hand curls on the back of your neck and pulls you in for a slow kiss, one that sends a bolt of shivers down your spine. When he pulls away a breath's width apart your eyes remain closed momentarily. Your head feels fuzzy already, but you still allow your lashes to flutter apart. You look into fields of lavender as you grant an affirming nod. His lips quirk up and he starts towards the door. You run cool fingers over your flushed face and knead tense muscles on your neck as Hitoshi offers your guest entry. And when you look up a set of dark eyes accompany the familiar lilac.

Shota enters cautiously but plays it off as nonchalant, eyes drifting around the bedroom. When his gaze falls on you once again, your breath catches and the rouge of your cheeks darkens, your own eyes averting. You barely catch Aizawa turning towards Shinso, asking, "You've both talked about this?" Hitoshi nods. At the confirmation, Shota glides towards you, dropping to his knees and looking up at your shy face when he reaches the edge of the bed. "You both agree?" His dark eyes study you as you give a timid nod. A calloused hand cups your chin gently, the pad of his thumb swiping over your bottom lip, coaxing your lips to part. His pupils dance between your fluttering lashes and your plush lips, his voice dropping to a low, honeyed tone. "You understand what this all entails?" You nod. "Words, princess."

"Yes," you breathily say. The way the word leaves your lips drips with a sense of pure need. Your eyes follow the man at your feet as he stands, towering over you with a firm grip on your jaw.

"Then we should discuss a few rules," he says as his fingers trace over the buttons of his shirt, popping the fastenings slowly.

"Rules?" Hitoshi asks as he kicks off the wall and strolls to the bed; another imposing figure looming over you now. But you don't mind feeling so small among these men.

"Yeah," the older man murmurs, dark eyes never leaving your frame resting atop the duvet. "Rules. Gotta have them for what we're about to do here." Lilac irises meet the onyx orbs of their former teacher, a message clear in the gaze. "These rules are designed to establish trust, make sure everyone is comfortable, and to keep constant communication. That way we won't risk...overstepping boundaries. Understood?"

Hitoshi gives a tiny nod and your mouth moves before you even realize it, a small, "Yes, sir," escaping your lips. You miss the smirk curling Aizawa's lips but your boyfriend certainly doesn't. And he starts to wonder if his mentor's offer was as selfless as he originally thought.

"Rule one. Safe words. We’ll start easy. Have either of used the traffic light system?"

"No."

"Yes." You turn a shocked gaze over to your boyfriend, intrigue tickling your mind at his confirmation. "With...Kaminari. We’d use the traffic light system. Green for continue, that everything is good. Yellow for slow down. Red for full stop." Your mouth subtly drops into an ‘O’ at the acknowledgment. Your mind momentarily races with the imagined images of what your boyfriend and his ex could’ve used such a system for in the bedroom. That familiar insecurity itched at the back of your mind with the thought.

"Red." You look up at Aizawa, confused. He kneels down then, meeting your eye carefully. "I know what you're thinking, so stop it. That insecurity shit is useless. I can see it all over your face." You blush at the light scolding and catch a glimpse of Hitoshi and the hint of guilt falling upon his features. You knew he had more experience than you, and you didn't hold that against him, of course. But the pang of your own lack of experience and the reminder did sting. Rough fingertips grip your chin gingerly, keeping your gaze focused on your former teacher. "Sex is not just physical. It’s mental, emotional. Maybe the reason that you’re having problems is because you’re letting your insecurities get in the way. We’ll fix that."

The button-up that has been draped precariously over the older man's frame finally falls from his shoulders. You shuffle back against the bed as Hitoshi steps forward, your boyfriend chasing and crawling over you. His hands softly push you back, your back meeting the mattress as his lips hover over yours. That is until calloused fingers tangle into lavender locks and tug back, sending his back into an arch against his mentor. "Rule number two," the thick lilt of his voice breathes against Hitoshi's ear. "I'm in charge. You both listen to me. Whatever I say, you do. Understand?"

You and Hitoshi let out a collective, "Yes, sir."

Shota smirks at both of your immediate compliance. "Good. Then the last rule: honesty. No matter what, we have to be honest. That means stopping this if anyone is uncomfortable. I don't care how far we go." You both agree again. "Let's get started then." He turns to Hitoshi, a new form of excitement clear in his gaze. "Strip." You don't miss the glint in Hitoshi's eyes as he tugs the black tee over his head, but you only get a glimpse as a calloused hand gently coaxes you to lay back on the bed. Long fingers scrape past the hem of your pants, the fabric dragging over your skin. You hear the plop of fabric as his hands trace your figure underneath your shirt. Goosebumps are left in the wake of his touch and you nearly jump out of your skin with the introduction of a second set of cool fingers dipping under your panties. You'll have to get used to the feeling of four hands on your body. It didn't take long for you to be completely bare before the two men, the both of them following suit shortly after. You keep your gaze glued to the cream-colored ceiling above you, enjoying the feeling of the hands and lips pressing and digging into your skin, drowning out any of your other senses.

"Touch yourself." The voice is so soft, muffled by his mouth pressed into your thigh, that you almost miss it. You giggle softly, the breathless sound bubbling from your throat in surprise.

"What?" You ask as you bring yourself up on your elbows. You meet those onyx eyes that are positioned between your legs, shivering at the sight of the men worshiping your body.

"Did I stutter?" His voice rumbles, pulling away from pressing sloppy kisses into your thigh. His fingers curl into the lilac locks at the base of Hitoshi’s neck, tugging your boyfriend from trailing nips and sucking over your hipbone. "Show us what you like. How else do you expect your boy to learn?"

Your mouth drops into that ‘O’ again, nodding your head in understanding. That bliss from before wearing off with the pressure to perform. Hesitantly, you nod and lay back down. Your fingers find their way between your thighs, circling your clit in quick succession.

"Woah, holy shit, easy tiger," he says, the edge of surprise and shocked amusement in his voice tickling that familiar insecurity again. "Honey, it’s a marathon, not a sprint. No wonder you can’t get to the finish line."

"Am-am I not doing it right…?" His gaze softens at your soft, shy voice, the insecurities rolling off you in waves.

"Aww, you poor thing," he sighs gently, a hint of mirth skirting his tone. "You gotta slow down, princess. Here." His callous fingers grip Hitoshi’s slender digits, his hands used to touch between your folds. The pace starts slow, casually circling your button before slowly dragging over your slit, collecting your slick and spreading the juices. Your eyes flutter closed as a feeling slowly grows at the bottom of your stomach. Hands are moving over your body, a soft caress of feather-like touches over your thighs, trailing down your calves, back over your hips, the gentle brushes rivaling the intensity you feel building in your core. You barely know which hands belong to whom by the time the first finger breaches your entrance, the small intrusion nearly taking your breath away.

You wonder why it’s never felt like this before. How is your former teacher, your boyfriend’s current mentor, so skilled at bringing you to your limits with the simplest touches? Your throat gurgles with the neediest, whiniest moans you’ve ever conjured, but you can’t bring yourself to feel embarrassment over the pure desperation in your voice. All you know at that moment is hands, fingers, lips, sweet touches, soft caresses, the scratch of scruff; all of it accumulating to the hum of an orgasm slowly building deep in your being. Once the pace picks up you realize that you’re truly a goner. And your mouth drops into a silent version of that familiar ‘O’ shape once again.

"See that?" Shota’s gruff voice softly lures you down from your high. You look up to see your release coating Aizawa’s hand, stringing between his fingers. Then your eyes drift down to see your boyfriend as he stares hungrily, mesmerized by the sticky mess pooling between your legs. Then your hazy gaze meets a proud smirk. Shota crawls up the bed to lean down at your side, offering a sweet smile before gently tapping your temple. "You got out of your head and got exactly what you needed. Feel better, princess?"

"Yeah," you breathe out, a small grin dancing at the edge of your lips.

"You just clear your mind," he murmurs, his breath tickling your skin, "and let us take care of you, okay, princess?"

You nod. "Yes, sir—ahh!" You’re cut off by the feeling of a mouth latching to your sopping sex. Your back arches and the moan that leaves your lips nearly drowns the laugh Aizawa lets slip.

"That’s it, Hitoshi," he chuckles. A hand cups the back of his head and tangles into the lavender locks, pushing his head further into your cunt. "Remember, it’s the best fucking feeling when you can’t breathe while eating pussy."

Hitoshi hums out a short snicker, the vibrations shaking your core. His tongue swirls your entrance before repeating a figure-eight motion over your clit. It isn’t long before a finger breaches your entrance.

"Atta boy, ‘Toshi," he encourages, the hand not twisted into purple hair wanders to his own awaiting dick twitching with anticipation. A second finger soon joins the first. "Now don’t just poke the poor girl's insides. Turn your wrist. Palm up. Tap that anterior wall."

"Nghh!"

"Yep. Just like that~"

Your back repels the mattress, your jaw drops and your heart beats outside your chest. Your fingers grip alongside Shota’s in Hitoshi’s hair. A third finger is added, the digits delivering a steady pace of tap, tap, tap on your insides. Your chest heaves with the intensity of your boyfriend’s touch and the oversensitivity of a second finish rearing itself so soon. And your vision goes white, your release rips from your body as your voice goes mute with the winded shock.

"—so good. That’s it, princess. That’s a good girl…"

You blink up at the two men staring down at you, both of them petting and whispering words of encouragement.

"C’mon, sweet girl," Hitoshi whispers, nose nuzzling into the side of your face. You can feel your slick coating his chin, your juices transferring into your skin. You can’t help the breathless giggle that bubbles out of your throat. A shaky hand grips at his chin, drawing him into a gentle kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips. When you both pull away, you turn to the older man by your side. A hesitant hand skims up his thigh while your other cups the back of Shota’s neck, urging him to lean down toward you. When your foreheads meet you press a deep kiss into his lips as a silent thanks. When you pull away, he gives a gentle hum, his eyes remaining closed and enjoying the moment.

"Thank you, sensei," Hitoshi vocalizes. Onyx eyes meet violet, and Shota decides that he prefers the same sort of appreciation that you offered him. So, his hand closes around the other man’s throat, dragging him into a sweet kiss of their own that quickly turns heated.

"Wanna show me how grateful you are, 'Toshi?" He murmurs against his lips. When they separate a minuscule amount of space from one another, you notice your boyfriend's half-lidded eyes and the way his teeth dig into his bottom lip. They stare into one another's eyes for a moment, each weighing their next action. When they dive back into each other in a sloppy kiss, you take the opportunity to make good on Shota’s request for gratitude. The hand resting on his thigh ventures along the taut muscle over the definition of his protruding v-line and continues to trail along the plains of his solid torso. You relish in the shudder that overtakes his body, the breathy gasps that leave his lungs while your boyfriend’s lips journey over the column of his throat. Your delicate touch follows back downward, your nails teasingly scraping down his hairy abdomen as your hand takes his happy trail to find the monster bobbing between his legs. You grip the base, giving an experimental squeeze before stroking his hard cock. You're so emboldened by the hum of satisfaction that escapes him that you don't hesitate to pull yourself onto shaky knees and wrap your lips around the dark red head of his dick. His hips buck into your mouth of their own volition at the suddenness of your hot, wet cavity encompassing him. A meaty hand laces into the hair at the back of your head, nails softly scratching your scalp and encouraging you to keep your place as he gently thrusts back and forth into your welcoming warmth. You stay still like the good girl you are for him until Hitoshi’s finger creep to the back of your neck, and he suddenly pushes you to take every inch down your throat. You sputter around the thick intrusion, your hands grasping at Shota’s thighs as you stare up at him with a watery gaze. Despite the blurry vision and the sound of your gurgling drown everything else out, you don’t miss the way both men chuckle at your surprise. You blink away the tears, the salty substance streaking down your face in the prettiest way, and you don’t move. You refuse to disappoint either of them so instead you take a deep, difficult breath through your nose and start sucking. You’d smirk at the sight of Shota throwing his head back with a broken moan if it weren’t for your lips being stretched by his thick cock.

"Fuck!" He groans, grip tightening. "Good girl! Good fucking girl, princess." Your body lights up at the praise and it seems that you’re not the only one. Your boyfriend presses his throbbing need into your lower back as he leans behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder.

"Never know you were such a praise whore, baby," he whispers huskily. "You like being Shota’s good girl?" You shiver at the mention. He chuckles softly. "I like this look on you. Never knew I’d get off so much to you taking another man’s cock so well. You were fucking made for this. Doing so well that we might have to invite Daddy ‘Zawa back again. You want that, baby?" You nod to the best of your abilities, looking up into Shota’s eyes as you do so. "Then earn it, babygirl." With that final piece of encouragement, Hitoshi’s fingers curl onto the front of your throat, pressing into Shota’s cock through your skin. You swallow around his member, causing the man in your mouth to tremble at the feeling. His dick pulses in your mouth, so close to his finish line, but before you can taste his release, the fingers laced in your hair pull you off of him.

"Easy, princess, don’t wanna finish just yet" he sighs, voice winded. "Hitoshi, on your back." Hitoshi follows directions easily, situating himself to lay down behind you.

"C’mon, babygirl," Hitoshi whispers to you, his hands landing on your hips and pulling you towards him. "Climb on." You swing a leg over his lap, settling into a comfortable position.

"Hi," you breathe out softly. Hitoshi smiles at you gently, the moment wholesome in the midst of your current debauchery.

"Hi," he murmurs back, leaning forward to tenderly tap the tip of his nose to yours. "You okay?" You nod lightly. It seems that the silent affirmation wasn't very effective as he cups your cheek, steering your gaze to look into his eyes. "Words, babygirl. Give me a color." You playfully roll your eyes.

"Green," you answer. He nods as the hand caressing your cheeks drags through your hair, directing your head to rest in the crook of his neck as his other hand maneuvers your hips up. You feel the second pair of hands on you, one on the other hip and one pressing between your shoulder blades, arching your back beautifully. Your breath catches at the first nudge of Hitoshi's cock swiping through your folds. He swirls the mushroom head over your clit before passing it through your slit, punching the oxygen out of your lungs completely when the red head of his prick penetrates your entrance. Your arms wrap tightly around his neck, your nose pressing into the side of his throat, and inhaling the jasmine and sea salt scent from your body wash—you knew he was stealing it! The smell, however, was calming as you grew used to the intrusion. The hands gripping your hips help you bounce on Hitoshi's cock, setting a slow pace, the speed gradually picking up as you begin to find your rhythm. It doesn't take long for the two of you to become a tangled heap of breathy pants and whiny moans, sweat coating your bodies as you move together. Shota's hands just add to the experience. The movement of his touch keeps you on the edge. They explore your body, trailing a feather-like touch down your spine, his calloused hands cupping the globes of your ass. His fingers knead into the muscles, his thumbs slipping between your cheeks and prodding at your other entrance.

"Color, princess?" He mutters as the tip of his thumb circles your puckered hole delicately.

"Green, sir," you mumble into your boyfriend's chest. The last syllable barely leaves your lips before you feel the pressure of a digit slipping in. The finger pumping into your backside matches the pace that you ride Hitoshi before adding a second, then a third finger. Shota stretches your entrance, his hand on your hip flexing to keep you still as he leans down to lick at your asshole. It was as if Shota and Hitoshi were of one mind. Instead of urging you to bounce on his cock, Hitoshi plants his feet into the matress and pistons his hips into yours, keeping you in place for saliva to spill out of Shota's mouth and slide between your cheeks. The make-shift lube eases the movement of three fingers scissoring your hole before they are gone too soon and replaced by the bulbus head of a leaking cock pressing pass the tight entrance. He starts slowly, glacierly pumping shallow thrust into your body as it gets used to the overwhelming power of two huge cocks penetrating your tiny holes.

You can't help the wanton moan that's punched from your throat. You can't help the way your eyes cross with the building pressure in your core. You can't help the way your nails peel down Hitoshi's shoulder, leaving raised treks and bleeds of blood over his skin. You are merely at the mercy of the men you lie pliant between. The both of them make their own noises and gruff responses but you can’t hear a word, only acknowledging the blood pumping through your ears and your own mewls that drown out any others. You’re close. So fucking close…

Their hips piston in and out of your tight body, their own orgasms pooling in their bellies. But Shota wants to see it, want to watch the fruits of his labors unfold before him. He wraps firm but gentle grasp against your throat, dragging you to sit up and rest against his chest. Your body molds into his as your hands scramble to find purchase on anything. Hitoshi kindly offers his hands to intertwine with your own as he watches his hero partner spear you with both of their cocks, moving your body with his. A calloused hand sneaks down to toy with the bundle of nerves between your folds, circles the pleasure button in quick succession.

"Cum," he commands between gritted teeth. "C’mon, princess, be our good fucking girl and cum all over our cocks." Those onyx eyes meet lavender again and there’s something unspoken in the contact. Something that fans the flame burn in his gut. He’s close. So fucking close…

With a shouting cry of both of their names you burst, hot wetness squirting from between your legs and soaking the body and the sheets beneath you. Hitoshi’s load soon follows, filling your weeping cunt to the brim and leaking around the sides. Your mixed spend froths out as he continues pounding your pillow princess pussy.

Shota’s hand lets go of his grip on your throat, easing your exhausted form down to cuddle with your breathless boyfriend. He gently pulls himself from the suffocating grip your asshole has on him, working his cock to completion, his release shooting on where you and Hitoshi are still joined, his milky cum mixing with the rest. He heaves a relieved sigh as he tumbles onto the bed at your side, scooping the two of you to cuddle closer as the three of you catch your breath.

Hitoshi is the first to break the silence with a winded, "I didn’t know you could squirt." You sigh out a giggle at the astonishment in his voice.

"I didn’t either," you breathe out. You turn your head on Hitoshi’s chest to look at the older man snuggling into both of your bodies. "Thank you."

Those dark eyes fall onto you, a lazy smile peeking out from the corners of his lips. His voice is raw as he whispers out, "My pleasure, princess."

Hitoshi yawns beneath you, the rumble in his chest tickling your skin as he speaks softly, "Can’t wait for our next private lesson."

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

𝐣𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐡 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐧

~ talking about you on jimmy fallon ~

~ hyping you up for a tennis tournament ~

~ jealousy, jealousy ~

~ pre dior fashion show chaos ~

~ lazy day with your lover ~ includes smut

~ do i wanna know? ~

~ actor on actor ~

~ the leaked tape ~ includes smut

~ meeting his parents for the first time ~

~ your almost peter parker pt1 ~

~ your almost peter parker pt2 ~

~ paris honeymoon ~ smut

~ taking care of you after a tiring day ~

~ showing him your new tattoo ~

~ coming out to him as bisexual ~

~ photographer body shames you ~

~ kissing ~ headcanons ~

~ speaking your love language ~ headcanons ~

~ grieving the loss of your friend ~

~ taking care of you when you have a cold ~

~ giving him a hickie ~

~ comforting him through his overeating misery ~

~ wanting a baby with you ~

~ head over heels husband ~ blurb ~

~ supporting you through your paramedic training ~

~ kissing his neck ~

~ cuddling ~ headcanons ~

~ comforting your post car crash guilt ~

~ helping you through a rough patch w/ your friend ~

~ fucking you to sleep after a long day ~ smut

~ giving birth ~

~ being the best dad to your baby girl ~

~ hopeless romantic ~ blurb ~

~ 'reject me so i can move on' ~ blurb ~

~ shopping with him ~ blurb ~

~ christmas blues ~

~ about to be stepdad!joe ~

~ oral fixation ~

~ making decisions for you ~

~ eating you out ~ smut

~ taking care of you when you have a cold ~ daddyified

~ overstimulation ~ smut

~ proud of you ~

~ sitting on his lap ~ blurb ~

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

~ the rockstar falls for you ~

~ fucking your face for the first time ~ smut

~ you ease his insecurities ~ smut

~ enemies to lovers ~ headcanons ~ smut

~ your moans ~ blurb - smut

~ taking care of you after you've been to the upside down ~

~ daddy ~ smut

~ reassuring you of his eternal love ~

~ using your safe word during your first punishment ~ smut

~ laying naked on his lap ~ blurb ~ smut kinda??

~ confronting your insecurities/body image issues~

~ coming to see you after you've been hospitalized ~

~ tattoo artist/piercer!eddie ~ headcanons ~

~ racer!eddie ~ short concept ~ kinda smut?

~ cunt worshipping ~ headcanons ~ smut

~ cuddlefucking ~ blurb ~ kinda smut?

~ weed & horror movies with your best friend ~ smut

~ messy and wet ~ milf!reader x repairman!eddie ~ smut

~ roommate troubles ~

~ more than his blood ~ vampire!reader x sub!eddie ~ smut

~ domesticity ~ blurb ~

~ giving you his old jacket ~ blurb ~

~ sub!eddie eating you out ~ blurb ~ smut

~ protecting you from your bullies ~

~ the moment he knew ~ dom!eddie x sub!reader ~ pt1.

~ too good for him ~ dom!eddie x sub!reader ~ pt2.

~ his reaction to you suggesting a threesome ~ blurb ~

~ face/tits slapping ~ blurb ~ smut

~ confronting your acne insecurity ~

~ beating the living shit out of jason ~

~ surprising the birthday boy with a lap dance ~

~ mean dom!eddie softens up ~ blurb ~ smut

~ reacting to your cleaning up his room ~ blurb ~

~ 'would you still love me if i was a worm?' ~ blurb ~

~ unhooking your bra ~ blurb ~

~ protective!eddie ~ blurb 1~

~ protective!eddie ~ blurb 2 ~

~ protective!eddie ~ blurb 3 ~

~ protective!eddie ~ blurb 4 ~

~ protective!eddie ~ blurb 5 ~ smut

~ protective!eddie ~ blurb 6 ~

~ protective!eddie ~ blurb 7 ~

~ protective!eddie ~ blurb 8 ~

~ protective!eddie ~ blurb 9 ~

~ baby waynie ~

~ obsessed with your tits ~ blurb ~

~ groupie love ~

~ comforting you after a breakdown ~

~ fucking in the back of his van ~ smut

~ beating up the creepy man from your work ~ smut

𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐥𝐫𝐚𝐬

~ your life shifts after meeting a stranger ~ smut

~ riding his thigh ~ smut

~ making love one last time ~ smut

~ random headcanons ~

~ tying your hands with his scarf ~

~ rebelling out ~ smut

as you can tell, i write for joe & his characters (except arthur) this list will be updated as i write. sometimes requests might take me a while to finish because.. life but i will try my best to write as well as i can & whenever i can <3 feel free to send anything, requests, discussions, horny thoughts, i want it all and thank you for your time!

words to use when writing

Appetite:

craving, demand, gluttony, greed, hunger, inclination, insatiable, longing, lust, passion, ravenousness, relish, taste, thirst, urge, voracity, weakness, willingness, yearning, ardor, dedication, desire, devotion, enthusiasm, excitement, fervor, horny, intensity, keenness, wholeheartedness, zeal

Arouse:

agitate, awaken, electrify, enliven, excite, entice, foment, goad, incite, inflame, instigate, kindle, provoke, rally, rouse, spark, stimulate, stir, thrill, waken, warm, whet, attract, charm, coax, fire up, fuel, heat up, lure, produce, stir up, tantalize, tease, tempt, thrum, torment, wind up, work up

Assault:

attack, advancing, aggressive, assailing, charging, incursion, inundated, invasion, offensive, onset, onslaught, overwhelmed, ruinous, tempestuous, strike, violation, ambush, assail, barrage, bombard, bombardment, crackdown, wound

Beautiful: 

admirable, alluring, angelic, appealing, bewitching, charming, dazzling, delicate, delightful, divine, elegant, enticing, exquisite, fascinating, gorgeous, graceful, grand, magnificent, marvelous, pleasing, radiant, ravishing, resplendent, splendid, stunning, sublime, attractive, beguiling, captivating, enchanting, engaging, enthralling, eye-catching, fetching, fine, fine-looking, good-looking, handsome, inviting, lovely, mesmeric, mesmerizing, pretty, rakish, refined, striking, tantalizing, tempting

Brutal:

atrocious, barbarous, bloodthirsty, callous, cruel, feral, ferocious, hard, harsh, heartless, inhuman, merciless, murderous, pitiless, remorseless, rough, rude, ruthless, savage, severe, terrible, unmerciful, vicious, bestial, brute, brutish, cold-blooded, fierce, gory, nasty, rancorous, sadistic, uncompromising, unfeeling, unforgiving, unpitying, violent, wild

Burly:

able-bodied, athletic, beefy, big, brawny, broad-shouldered, bulky, dense, enormous, great, hard, hardy, hearty, heavily built, heavy, hefty, huge, husky, immense, large, massive, muscular, mighty, outsized, oversized, powerful, powerfully built, prodigious, robust, solid, stalwart, stocky, stout, strapping, strong, strongly built, sturdy, thick, thickset, tough, well-built, well-developed

Carnal:

animalistic, bodily, impure, lascivious, lecherous, lewd, libidinous, licentious, lustful, physical, prurient, salacious, sensuous, voluptuous, vulgar, wanton, , coarse, crude, dirty, raunchy, rough, unclean

Dangerous:

alarming, critical, fatal, formidable, impending, malignant, menacing, mortal, nasty, perilous, precarious, pressing, serious, terrible, threatening, treacherous, urgent, vulnerable, wicked, acute, damaging, deadly, death-defying, deathly, destructive, detrimental, explosive, grave, harmful, hazardous, injurious, lethal, life-threatening, noxious, poisonous, risky, severe, terrifying, toxic, unsafe, unstable, venomous

Dark:

atrocious, corrupt, forbidding, foul, infernal, midnight, morbid, ominous, sinful, sinister, somber, threatening, twilight, vile, wicked, abject, alarming, appalling, baleful, bizarre, bleak, bloodcurdling, boding evil, chilling, cold, condemned, creepy, damned, daunting, demented, desolate, dire, dismal, disturbing, doomed, dour, dread, dreary, dusk, eerie, fear, fearsome, frightening, ghastly, ghostly, ghoulish, gloom, gloomy, grave, grim, grisly, gruesome, hair-raising, haunted, hideous, hopeless, horrendous, horrible, horrid, horrific, horrifying, horror, ill-fated, ill-omened, ill-starred, inauspicious, inhospitable, looming, lost, macabre, malice, malignant, menacing, murky, mysterious, night, panic, pessimistic, petrifying, scary, shadows, shadowy, shade, shady, shocking, soul-destroying, sour, spine-chilling, spine-tingling, strange, terrifying, uncanny, unearthly, unlucky, unnatural, unnerving, weird, wretched

Delicious:

enticing, exquisite, luscious, lush, rich, savory, sweet, tasty, tempting, appetizing, delectable, flavorsome, full of flavor, juicy, lip-smacking, mouth-watering, piquant, relish, ripe, salty, spicy, scrummy, scrumptious, succulent, tangy, tart, tasty, yummy, zesty

Ecstasy:

delectation, delirium, elation, euphoria, fervor, frenzy, joy, rapture, transport, bliss, excitement, happiness, heaven, high, paradise, rhapsody, thrill, blissful, delighted, elated, extremely happy, in raptures (of delight), in seventh heaven, jubilant, on cloud nine, overexcited, overjoyed, rapturous, thrilled

Ecstatic:

delirious, enraptured, euphoric, fervent, frenzied, joyous, transported, wild

Erotic:

amatory, amorous, aphrodisiac, carnal, earthy, erogenous, fervid, filthy, hot, impassioned, lascivious, lecherous, lewd, raw, romantic, rousing, salacious, seductive, sensual, sexual, spicy, steamy, stimulating, suggestive, titillating, voluptuous, tantalizing

Gasp:

catch of breath, choke, gulp, heave, inhale, pant, puff, snort, wheeze, huff, rasp, sharp intake of air, short of breath, struggle for breath, swallow, winded 

Heated:

ardent, avid, excited, fervent, fervid, fierce, fiery, frenzied, furious, impassioned, intense, passionate, raging, scalding, scorched, stormy, tempestuous, vehement, violent, ablaze, aflame, all-consuming, blazing, blistering, burning, crazed, explosive, febrile, feverish, fired up, flaming, flushed, frantic, hot, hot-blooded, impatient, incensed, maddening, obsessed, possessed, randy, searing, sizzling, smoldering, sweltering, torrid, turbulent, volatile, worked up, zealous

Hunger:

appetite, ache, craving, gluttony, greed, longing, lust, mania, mouth-watering, ravenous, voracious, want, yearning, thirst

Hungry:

avid, carnivorous, covetous, craving, eager, greedy, hungered, rapacious, ravenous, starved, unsatisfied, voracious, avaricious, desirous, famished, grasping, insatiable, keen, longing, predatory, ravening, starving, thirsty, wanting

Intense:

forceful, severe, passionate, acute, agonizing, ardent, anxious, biting, bitter, burning, close, consuming, cutting, deep, eager, earnest, excessive, exquisite, extreme, fervent, fervid, fierce, forcible, great, harsh, impassioned, keen, marked, piercing, powerful, profound, severe, sharp, strong, vehement, violent, vivid, vigorous

Liquid:

damp, cream, creamy, dripping, ichorous, juicy, moist, luscious, melted, moist, pulpy, sappy, soaking, solvent, sopping, succulent, viscous, wet / aqueous, broth, elixir, extract, flux, juice, liquor, nectar, sap, sauce, secretion, solution, vitae, awash, moisture, boggy, dewy, drenched, drip, drop, droplet, drowning, flood, flooded, flowing, fountain, jewel, leaky, milky, overflowing, saturated, slick, slippery, soaked, sodden, soggy, stream, swamp, tear, teardrop, torrent, waterlogged, watery, weeping

Lithe:

agile, lean, pliant, slight, spare, sinewy, slender, supple, deft, fit, flexible, lanky, leggy, limber, lissom, lissome, nimble, sinuous, skinny, sleek, slender, slim, svelte, trim, thin, willowy, wiry

Moan:

beef, cry, gripe, grouse, grumble, lament, lamentation, plaint, sob, wail, whine, bemoan, bewail, carp, deplore, grieve, gripe, grouse, grumble, keen, lament, sigh, sob, wail, whine, mewl

Moving:

(exciting,) affecting, effective  arousing, awakening, breathless, dynamic, eloquent, emotional, emotive, expressive, fecund, far-out, felt in gut, grabbed by, gripping, heartbreaking, heartrending, impelling, impressive, inspirational, meaningful, mind-bending, mind-blowing, motivating, persuasive, poignant, propelling, provoking, quickening, rallying, rousing, significant, stimulating, simulative, stirring, stunning, touching, awe-inspiring, energizing, exhilarating, fascinating, heart pounding, heart stopping, inspiring, riveting, thrilling

Need:

compulsion, demand, desperate, devoir, extremity, impatient longing, must, urge, urgency / desire, appetite, avid, burn, craving, eagerness, fascination, greed, hunger, insatiable, longing, lust, taste, thirst, voracious, want, yearning, ache, addiction, aspiration, desire, fever, fixation, hankering, hope, impulse, inclination, infatuation, itch, obsession, passion, pining, wish, yen

Pain: 

ache, afflict, affliction, agony, agonize, anguish, bite, burn, chafe, distress, fever, grief, hurt, inflame, laceration, misery, pang, punish, sting, suffering, tenderness, throb, throe, torment, torture, smart

Painful:

aching, agonizing, arduous, awful, biting, burning, caustic, dire, distressing, dreadful, excruciating, extreme, grievous, inflamed, piercing, raw, sensitive, severe, sharp, tender, terrible, throbbing, tormenting, angry, bleeding, bloody, bruised, cutting, hurting, injured, irritated, prickly, skinned, smarting, sore, stinging, unbearable, uncomfortable, upsetting, wounded

Perverted: 

aberrant, abnormal, corrupt, debased, debauched, defiling, depraved, deviant, monstrous, tainted, twisted, vicious, warped, wicked, abhorrent, base, decadent, degenerate, degrading, dirty, disgusting, dissipated, dissolute, distasteful, hedonistic, immodest, immoral, indecent, indulgent, licentious, nasty, profligate, repellent, repugnant, repulsive, revolting, shameful, shameless, sickening, sinful, smutty, sordid, unscrupulous, vile 

Pleasurable:

charming, gratifying, luscious, satisfying, savory, agreeable, delicious, delightful, enjoyable, nice, pleasant, pleasing, soothing, succulent

Pleasure:

bliss, delight, gluttony, gratification, relish, satisfaction, thrill, adventure, amusement, buzz, contentment, delight, desire, ecstasy, enjoyment, excitement, fun, happiness, harmony, heaven, joy, kick, liking, paradise, seventh heaven 

Rapacious:

avaricious, ferocious, furious, greedy, predatory, ravening, ravenous, savage, voracious, aggressive, gluttonous, grasping, insatiable, marauding, plundering

Rapture:

bliss, ecstasy, elation, exaltation, glory, gratification, passion, pleasure, floating, unbridled joy

Rigid:

adamant, austere, definite, determined, exact, firm, hard, rigorous, solid, stern, uncompromising, unrelenting, unyielding, concrete, fixed, harsh, immovable, inflexible, obstinate, resolute, resolved, severe, steadfast, steady, stiff, strong, strict, stubborn, taut, tense, tight, tough, unbending, unchangeable, unwavering

Sudden:

abrupt, accelerated, acute, fast, flashing, fleeting, hasty, headlong, hurried, immediate, impetuous, impulsive, quick, quickening, rapid, rash, rushing, swift, brash, brisk, brusque, instant, instantaneous, out of the blue, reckless, rushed, sharp, spontaneous, urgent, without warning

Thrust:

(forward) advance, drive, forge, impetus, impulsion, lunge, momentum, onslaught, poke, pressure, prod, propulsion, punch, push, shove, power, proceed, progress, propel

(push hard) assail, assault, attack, bear down, buck, drive, force, heave, impale, impel, jab, lunge, plunge, press, pound, prod, ram, shove, stab, transfix, urge, bang, burrow, cram, gouge, jam, pierce, punch, slam, spear, spike, stick

Thunder-struck:

amazed, astonished, aghast, astounded, awestruck, confounded, dazed, dazed, dismayed, overwhelmed, shocked, staggered, startled, stunned, gob-smacked, bewildered, dumbfounded, flabbergasted, horrified, incredulous, surprised, taken aback 

Torment:

agony, anguish, hurt, misery, pain, punishment, suffering, afflict, angst, conflict, distress, grief, heartache, misfortune, nightmare, persecute, plague, sorrow, strife, tease, test, trial, tribulation, torture, turmoil, vex, woe

Touch:

(physical) - blow, brush, caress, collide, come together, contact, converge, crash, cuddle, embrace, feel, feel up, finger, fondle, frisk, glance, glide, graze, grope, handle, hit, hug, impact, join, junction, kiss, lick, line, manipulate, march, massage, meet, nudge, palm, partake, pat, paw, peck, pet, pinch, probe, push, reach, rub, scratch, skim, slide, smooth, strike, stroke, suck, sweep, tag, tap, taste, thumb, tickle, tip, touching, toy, bite, bump, burrow, buss, bury, circle, claw, clean, clutch, cover, creep, crush, cup, curl, delve, dig, drag, draw, ease, edge, fiddle with, flick, flit, fumble, grind, grip, grub, hold, huddle, knead, lap, lave, lay a hand on, maneuver, manhandle, mash, mold, muzzle, neck, nestle, nibble, nip, nuzzle, outline, play, polish, press, pull, rasp, ravish, ream, rim, run, scoop, scrabble, scrape, scrub, shave, shift, shunt, skate, slip, slither, smack, snake, snuggle, soothe, spank, splay, spread, squeeze, stretch, swipe, tangle, tease, thump, tongue, trace, trail, tunnel twiddle, twirl, twist, tug, work, wrap 

(mental) - communicate, examine, inspect, perception, scrutinize

Wet:

bathe, bleed, burst, cascade, course, cover, cream, damp, dampen, deluge, dip, douse, drench, dribble, drip, drizzle, drool, drop, drown, dunk, erupt, flood, flow, gush, immerse, issue, jet, leach, leak, moisten, ooze, overflow, permeate, plunge, pour, rain, rinse, run, salivate, saturate, secrete, seep, shower, shoot, slaver, slobber, slop, slosh, sluice, spill, soak, souse, spew, spit, splash, splatter, spout, spray, sprinkle, spurt, squirt, steep, stream, submerge, surge, swab, swamp, swill, swim, trickle, wash, water

Wicked:

abominable, amoral, atrocious, awful, base, barbarous, dangerous, debased, depraved, distressing, dreadful, evil, fearful, fiendish, fierce, foul, heartless, hazardous, heinous, immoral, indecent, intense, mean, nasty, naughty, nefarious, offensive, profane, scandalous, severe, shameful, shameless, sinful, terrible, unholy, vicious, vile, villainous, wayward, bad, criminal, cruel, deplorable, despicable, devious, ill-intentioned, impious, impish, iniquitous, irreverent, loathsome, Machiavellian, mad, malevolent, malicious, merciless, mischievous, monstrous, perverse, ruthless, spiteful, uncaring, unkind, unscrupulous, vindictive, virulent, wretched

Writhe: 

agonize, bend, jerk, recoil, lurch, plunge, slither, squirm, struggle, suffer, thrash, thresh, twist, wiggle, wriggle, angle, arc, bow, buck, coil, contort, convulse, curl, curve, fidget, fight, flex, go into spasm, grind, heave, jiggle, jolt, kick, rear, reel, ripple, resist, roll, lash, lash out, screw up, shake, shift, slide, spasm, stir, strain, stretch, surge, swell, swivel, thrust, turn violently, tussle, twitch, undulate, warp, worm, wrench, wrestle, yank 

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse + text posts

bakugou x reader x deku

summary: after a 3 year hiatus from dating, you get more than you bargained for. A dating app match and a chance encounter start you on two simultaneous journeys, one with the number one hero: kind, caring, exhausted, and one with the rival he'd outgrown.

authors note - poly ending, no infidelity. smut, bakugou and deku will both dom, reader subs. reader's parents are dead and she's raising her little brother, she's ~28, Midoriya and Bakugou are both 30. some childhood bullying mentions, brief scene in a police station, f!reader. part one. part 2

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” You lean against a chain link fence outside of your little brother’s school. “Kaoru’s young, and he needs me.” 

“Listen,” Your best friend says, dripping syrupy sweetness, “You’re gonna get cobwebs up there if you don’t-” 

“It doesn’t matter,” you say quickly, as kids start pouring out of the double doors at the front of the school. “What matters is that Kaoru’s not ready for me to date, he needs stability. After everything that’s happened, I have to be there for him.” You hear a rush of static, meaning your friend was sighing deeply into the phone. 

“I know you care about him.” She says softly. “I just also care about you.” 

“Thank you,” you catch your brother out of the corner of your eye. “Call you later, Anna.” You hang up quickly, reaching for your brother's backpack. “Hey squirt,” you sling it over your shoulder, “How was school?” He frowns, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“Fine.” He shrugs. “I have homework.” 

“You wanna grab a snack?” You offer, and he gives you the ghost of a smile. 

“Ice cream?” He asks, and you pretend to think about it. 

“How about tacos?” You counter, touching his shoulder, and he lights up. 

“Yes!” 

__________

You go through a normal routine, takeout aside, logging back on to work while your brother plays some video games in his room. A text pops up from your friend. 

Anna: matchmaker$.com 

Anna: get you and Kaoru a rich sugar daddy

You sigh deeply, glancing over your shoulder when you hear a sound. Your brother has peeked around the corner, tentatively standing at the edge of the kitchen. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks wide eyes as perceptive as ever. 

“Tired from work.” It’s not a lie, exactly. You lean back on your stool, stretching. “You wanna sit down for a bit, give those eyes a rest?” 

“Sitting close to the tv doesn’t hurt your eyes.” He mutters. “Mom just said that so we’d watch less tv.” You laugh, the memory of your stepmother, half frantic in the kitchen as the two of you had your eyes glued to the series finale of Avatar the last Airbender, so engrossed you didn’t realize you were moving closer, washes over you like a gentle wave. 

“She did, yeah.” You pull a stool out and he joins you, resting his arms on the table. “What’s up?” You ask, sensing the tension rather than noticing it. 

“I have friends.” He says. “Just a couple, but um, I like them. They’re nice to me.” 

“Are kids at school not being nice to you?” You immediately cut in, something simmering near the surface evident in your tone. 

“They are!” He flashes his hands, “Calm down. They’re mostly, mostly pretty nice.” He adjusts his glasses. “I just mean, you don’t have friends.” You swallow. 

“I have Anna.” You offer, and he shakes his head. 

“I know people your age usually have more people than that,” He argues, “And you seem lonely. I dunno.” He looks away. “I just, I wanted to ask if it was my fault.” 

“Oh.” Your mouth drops open. “I’m, first of all,” a smile spreads across your face, you can’t even tell if it’s genuine, “First of all, I’m not lonely, I have you, and you are more than enough for me.” He doesn’t let that lie, squirming away from your attempts to hug him. “But um, you know, I see Anna about once a week, maybe once every two weeks. I um, I know people at work-” 

“I didn’t mean friends like that!” He blurts. “I meant like,” he blows out a long breath. “I just don’t want you not doing things because of me. I don’t um,” he looks like he’s struggling for words, this time, when you reach out to touch him, he takes your hand. His palm is clammy. “I don’t want to be the reason you don’t do things. The reason your life is different.” You press your lips together. The unspoken hangs heavily in the air, that your parent's death had changed everything, that you’d dropped out of grad school three years ago to take care of him, that you’d left a promising career track, friends, a boyfriend, all in a different city. You wonder if he understands this, or if somehow, he just senses the little ticking clock that haunts your dreams reminding you that you’re not spending your twenties like the girls you see on Instagram. That you’re not drinking wine on an island in Greece, that you’re not dating, let alone engaged, and that you don’t have a gaggle of girlfriends to post pictures with. Your account had laid dormant for so long you’d forgotten the password. 

“My life is different now,” you squeeze his hand. “It’s true. There’s no getting around that, but honestly, I’d rather be hanging with you,” you elbow him, grinning, “than on a date with some loser who probably has stinky socks.” Your brother wrinkles his nose. 

“Ew. Boys don’t grow out of that?” 

“Unfortunately.” You have a vivid flash of the pile of laundry your ex had left in your apartment. “They do not.” 

“Ok but promise,” Kaoru holds out a pinky finger. “Promise you’re not gonna miss things because of me, in specific?” There’s a gap between his front teeth that means occasionally sometimes the s sounds coming out of his mouth have a slight whistle. 

“I promise.” You reach out and link your pinky with his. “I do.” You put him to bed, and offer to read him a story. Kaoru was 9, and technically your stepbrother, with your father having remarried after your mother left him when you were a child. Still, the resemblance was uncanny, the same face shape, same cheekbones, same light in his eyes at the promise of a story. He’d shunned the idea of being read to, recently, though he’d fallen back into it when you’d first moved back home after his parents had passed. You’d spoken with his doctors, it’s natural for trauma to make children regress, they’d told you. He’d wet the bed for a full year, something you’d never spoken to him about, instead, you’d begun to wake up early and change his sheets while he took a sleepy shower. You’d read to him then, and tonight he lets you do it again. 

“Read me the Deku one,” he begs, flopping hard on his mattress. 

“I absolutely cannot again,” you say, eyeing the Deku plush, the Deku posters, and the Deku pajamas he’s wearing. “How about the funny alien one, are we down for that?” 

“Fine,” he sighs deeply. “I guess it is funny.” 

“The True Meaning of Smekday,” you start, “Chapter three.” He scoots under the covers, and he’s fallen fast asleep by the time you’re four pages in, but you finish the chapter before you turn the light off. Smoothing his hair and tucking him in. 

Was it that obvious? You wonder. The lonely ache that tears at your chest start to awaken now as you pad through your empty childhood home. You trace a framed photo of you in your prom dress, your date had gone on to study software engineering, and he was working for some hotshot startup in Silicon Valley. Your ex in New York had moved on painfully quickly when it became obvious you weren’t moving back. You flop hard on the couch and open your texts from Anna. 

Anna: matchmaker$.com 

Anna: get you and Kaoru a rich sugar daddy

You: it looks like an escort site

Anna: it’s not!!! 

Anna: I know someone that works there, she’ll hook you up 

You sigh deeply. Your cousin Anna was a moderately successful influencer, who had on multiple occasions claimed to be taking you out to lunch only to try and haggle a free meal in exchange for clicks. 

Anna: for realsies. You can’t get the signup link from just anyone, it’s exclusive. 

You: aaaaa are you sure?

Anna: ARE YOU ACTUALLY CONSIDERING

Anna: SHUT UP IM FILLING IT OUT FOR YOU RIGHT NOW

You: ANNA NO

You: Anna, please. Let me. 

Anna; You have fifteen minutes. If you haven't submitted it, I’m gonna do it for you.

You sit straight up on the couch. 

You: Deal. 

Anna: AMAZING 

You pull up the application she sent you on your laptop, and rub your eyes, filling out the questions to the best of your ability about your moral leanings, whether you want children, or you smoke, and then pause, hovering over the final question box. 

Is there anything else we should know about you?

You swallow, hands shaking, and text Anna asking for an extension before going to your cabinet and taking a bottle down, pouring yourself a glass of scotch before sitting back on the couch. The cursor blinks. You take a deep breath. 

Is there anything else we should know about you? 

Moved back home to raise my younger brother after his parents died. Don’t know a lot of people in the city. 

You bite your lip and take a huge gulp of your drink. You delete that. 

Is there anything else we should know about you? 

You pause, staring at the screen for a full five minutes, completely paralyzed, torn between hiding your baggage to make yourself palatable and laying it all out on the table. You down the rest of your drink and then type quickly, before you can stop yourself. 

After my father and stepmother died three years ago, I moved back to this city. I left everything I’d built, relationships, a job, and half a graduate degree. I haven't been on a date in three years, if I was ever competent in bed I’d definitely forgotten anything I knew, and from what I remember of sex I probably remember even less about flirting. I know people feel bad for me. I know it’s pitiable, I know that’s how people see me. 

But what you should know is that I don’t regret it. I can’t bring myself to. Not for a single second, and sometimes that makes me feel bad like I’m not mourning the right way, that it’s fucked that I’m happier now than I ever was on my own, that tragedy gave my life purpose. But it’s the truth, and you should know it. 

You hit send then, refusing to let yourself edit anything else, letting your application zoom off into the internet before flopping back on the couch with a loud groan. 

____

You’re spooning ravioli onto your brother’s plate when your phone buzzes loudly. You jump a mile, you only ever got texts from work or Anna, and both of those had their special text tone. You glance at it. 

UNKWN: Hi y/n! This is Zaire, your matchmaker from the MatchMaker$ service! 

You choke on your orange juice. Your brother notices, raising his eyebrows. You cover to the best of your ability waiting until he’s retreated upstairs to answer.

You: Hi Zaire! This is fast I didn’t expect to hear from you so quickly. 

Zaire: well, Anna put in a good word for you

Zaire: But honestly you scored with such a high percentage of answers with this person I couldn’t let a second go to waste! 

Zaire: don’t let this offput you, but he hasn’t had a lot of matches. I’m going to send you his profile, scrubbed of all identifying information, and you let me know if you’d like to meet up, we will arrange it so you know you’re safe. 

You: aaa ok 

You: suppose it couldn’t hurt to read!

Zaire: That’s the spirit!!

Zaire: MI.exe 

You flip through your file after your brother’s gone to bed, family-oriented, absent father, strong value system, intense career, you squirm a little at the idea of going out with someone who’s so much larger than you, 6’4? However, with that being the only potential red flag you feel you have no choice. 

You: I’m in! I’d like to meet him. 

Zaire: Incredible - first dates are usually just one step above casual, feel free to gut-check your outfit with me, that’s what I’m here for! I’ll make sure neither of you is overdressed. 

Zaire sends you details, a restaurant downtown, a dress code, a time, and the menu in advance, and asks if you have any allergies. You float through your week, banging your head on the cabinet when you open it to get cereal for your brother. He asks you a question though, that catches you off guard, a couple of hours before you leave. You’re attempting an eyeliner look when he comes in and sits on your bed. 

“Can I,” He starts, “How um, how do I, can I ask you something?” You nod, glancing over your shoulder with concern. 

“Anything.” You answer, and he nods. 

“I um,” he fidgets. “How do you stand up for someone else, when you’re smaller?” You put your eyeliner pencil down and come to sit with him on the bed. 

“What’s up?” You ask, leaning back on your palms. 

“There’s a kid in my class,” he mumbles, fixing his glasses, “Some of the older kids pick on him, and he’s told the teachers but they don’t care.” He looks away. “I wanna help, but I uh, I dunno.” 

“Hey, squirt,” you elbow him, “I’m proud of you. For wanting to help, even though I can tell you’re scared.” He nods, fidgeting. “You can’t get into a physical fight, alright, that’s not a good idea.” He looks a little dejected, nodding. “But you’d be surprised how many people back down when you stand up for yourself verbally, most kids are all talk. You can also offer the kid they’re picking on comfort and friendship, and that’s ultimately more valuable than any fighting you could do for him.” 

“Yeah?” Your brother lifts his head. 

“Yeah, be nice to the kid.” You stretch a little, “You can do so much by just being sweet to people, listening to them, making them feel less alone, and they’re less likely to pick on you if there’s two of you.” He nods like he’s thinking about it hard. 

“O-okay.” He adjusts his glasses. “I’m gonna think about that.” You watch him leave, struck for the millionth time by how you’re so unsure about anything you tell him, how much of parenting is stumbling around in the dark pretending you know where you’re going. You’re still thinking about it as you wave to Kaoru and his babysitter, as the uber takes you across town, as you find a small patch on your legs you forgot to shave. You’re a few minutes early, heart racing, considering texting Zaire, considering texting Anna, considering running into the woods and changing your name. You take a deep breath, and no matter what happens tonight, you remind yourself that you’d have Kaoru. That you’d have that house, and the stability that comes with monotony. 

Your first surprise is that while the restaurant is fully staffed, it’s empty. Someone takes your jacket, and you’re so surprised you let a hostess lead you across the room to the only occupied table. You don’t notice the softly crackling fires, the way the light gleams off the dark wood accents on the white walls, the way that even though you’re the only people in the restaurant, every place is set with full silverware and water glasses. You don’t see any of those things, because standing at the side of the table, at a stately 6’4, is the number one pro hero Deku. He’s bigger in person than he is on TV, in a mostly buttoned white shirt that’s impeccably tailored, and a gray suit jacket. You stop walking, surprised, and he touches the back of his neck sheepishly before striding over to you. 

“Hi,” he says quickly, “I assume, um, based on the reaction you know who I am.” You nod, swallowing in an attempt to bring more moisture to your mouth. “Is it a problem?” He towers over you. “Because no pressure, no problem, I can call you an uber, my treat, I don’t want you to think-” 

“It’s fine.” You squeak and then reach out a hand to him. He shakes it awkwardly. “I’m sorry, by the way, if that was weird, I haven’t um, well if you got my file,” you feel your face warm, “Then you know I haven’t been on a date in a while.” He laughs, and the sound is physically warming. 

“It’s not in mine.” He says, giving you a soft smile. “But actually, same.” he steps to the side and pulls out a chair for you, “Ah, please, I’m,” he looks nervous again, “Please, sit.” You do, smoothing your dress as he sits down across from you. “So I’m, I’m Midoriya Izuku.” He offers, and your face warms when you realize you haven’t introduced yourself. 

“Oh ah, Ln Fn.” You take a deep breath. “So you’re um, you’re a pro hero.” He nods. “I’m um, I work in marketing.” He nods again, as a waiter comes by and fills each of your water glasses. “Whatever I was expecting,” you laugh a little, stomach twisting with nerves. “It wasn’t this.” Midoriya nods sheepishly, eyes flicking from the way the firelight is reflecting on the high planes of your face, to the perfect double bow of your lips. 

“You seemed so earnest.” He says, taking a sip of his water. “I’ve been um, I’ve been in the database for a while, I guess I’m difficult to match or something.” He runs his fingers through his carefully parted green curls, “I mean, ah, I don’t want to insinuate that I’m difficult, I think I’m, um,” he thinks about it, “I don’t think I’m difficult.” He finishes lamely. 

“No I get it,” you say quickly, feeling your stomach roil with nerves. “This is weird, please, don’t worry we can um, we can be accommodating of each other’s inexperience, or I suppose, in my case, inefficacy.” He laughs again. 

“Ah, okay, cool. Good.” He scoots his chair in. “So you’ve been in this city for three years?” You nod. “What do you think?” 

“It’s much bigger than where I was,” you consider, as a basket of bread is placed in front of you. “I never thought I’d want to live out here, but I like it a lot.” He nods. “A lot changed in my life very quickly, I guess.” 

“Can I ask what made you want to date again?” His eyes are bright and alive, the same deep green color as his hair. “After three years?” 

“Oh gosh,” you fold forward, “So my father and stepmother passed when Kaoru was six, and um, the thing about grieving while caring for a small child is that you can’t be     externalizing those feelings all the time, even if they’re there.” You look down at your hands in your lap. “I think it was a bit freeing, to just stop all self-focus, and focus on him. He needs me, it’s been easy.” 

“So that’s why you didn’t.” He pushes gently. “I was wondering why you decided to meet me, tonight?” You let out a long slow breath. 

“Kaoru said something to me,” your hands fly to your face shyly, “About being worried that he was ruining my life, or taking things away from me because I’ve just been focused on him, and I um, I thought it’s true, I am lonely.” You pick the menu up, feeling self-conscious. “I feel worse that he noticed, I try to keep my problems off his plate.” 

“I’m sure he’d want to help you.” Midoriya offers, “What’s he like?” He asks and gets the pleasure of watching you light up like a firecracker. 

“He is the best kid,” you smile, exuding warmth, “He’s kind and patient, and so, so smart. He’s in advanced math this year.” You dig in your pocket for your phone instinctively. “Would you wanna see a picture?” 

“Yeah,” Midoriya leans forward in his seat, and the chair underneath him groans a little. You select one of him holding his certificate of excellence from coming third in the spelling bee and turn your phone around to show the pro hero. “He looks just like you,” Midoriya breathes, surprised. 

“He is pretty wonderful.” You put your phone away. 

“Did you have to think about it?” He blurts, and you raise your eyebrows, he adds more context, “Sorry if this is rude, I mean, did you have to think about leaving your old life to come here and do this.” 

“No.” The answer is easy. “It was muscle memory. He’s family.” Midoriya nods thoughtfully. 

“Did you always want to be a hero?” You ask and he nods emphatically. 

“From the day I could pronounce the word,” he thinks about it, “Honestly maybe earlier. I um,” he looks self-conscious again. “I had a pretty lonely childhood, I would have killed to have a sister like you.” 

“I am far from perfect,” something crosses your face, just a flash of darkness, a microexpression, but he picks up on it easily. 

“What’s up?”

“Oh, ah,” you lean back in your seat, “He asked about what he should do if he sees another kid being picked on.” You chew the inside of your cheek. “I’m not sure I gave good advice.” 

“Can I ask what you said?” Midoriya glances down. “And um, I can order for you, if you’d like.” 

“That would be amazing.” You push the menu across the table. “And I said that sometimes offering the person being picked on comfort, and friendship, can be ultimately more powerful than getting into a physical fight.” Midoriya softens immediately, inching his hand across the table towards yours almost instinctively. 

“I agree.” He says quietly, and the waiter comes over. “We’ll have a bottle of the 2007 Pinot Grigio, and,” He turns to you, “Do you like fish?” You nod. “She’ll do the smoked salmon, and I’ll do the filet mignon.” The waiter bows and then disappears. 

“So tell me about you,” You say, feeling awkward, distracted a little by the way his smile is perfect and dazzling. There’s an odd feeling of comfort that comes with his presence, you find your nerves are slipping away. 

“Oh gosh,” he thinks about it, “Aside from work I have some video games I like, spending time with friends, work kind of bleeds into a lot of other parts of my life.” He shrugs. “Everywhere I go people know who I am.”     

“That sounds exhausting.” You give him a weak smile. “I’m definitely on the introverted side.” 

“Me too!” He blurts excitedly and gives you for the first time, a less practiced, less polished smile. It’s boyish and genuine, your heart does a backflip in your chest. The conversation continues, warmth creeping up your cheeks as food comes and goes, as the bottle of wine empties. His hand inches across the table, and lands less than a centimeter from where yours is resting, but you don’t touch, just sit there millimeters apart for the entire dinner. The light outside dies, and eventually, you sigh and check your phone. 

“I had to pay a babysitter,” you confess reluctantly. “I’ve got to be home before midnight.” Midoriya looks shocked, checking his own phone. 

“It’s so late,” He murmurs, “I hadn’t realized.” He stands then and offers you a helping hand out of your chair. “I’d meant to um,” he shakes his head, “I’d meant to tell you around nine, to ask if you had a sitter, or a friend watching your brother.” You shake your head. “But I lost track of time.” Without thinking, you slip your hand into his, and he pulls you slightly closer so that your shoulders brush. 

“We could share an uber home?” You offer. He looks embarrassed. 

“I have a driver.” He confesses. “If you don’t mind me knowing where you live, I’ll have him drop you off.” 

“Oh gosh, isn’t your apartment in the center of the city? It’s out of your way.” You turn to him, and he laces his fingers in between yours. 

“I really would just love to spend the extra half hour with you.” He says, looking sheepish again, “If that’s alright.” A slow warm smile, the kind of involuntary girlish reaction you hadn’t felt in years, spreads across your face. 

“I’d love that.” He squeezes your hand. 

“Good.” He helps you into your coat, even though it’s summer, the night air is cold. Before you can do anything, he presses some bills into the hand of the woman working coat check, and you’re suddenly struck by the fact that no bill had been presented. As if he can read your mind, Midoriya speaks up. 

“I paid while you used the restroom.” He slips an arm around your waist as the two of you walk out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk. “I didn’t want to give you a chance to reach for your wallet.” You laugh. 

“I’ll get you next time.” You offer, and he rubs a circle on your waist. 

“No,” He murmurs, as the car pulls up in front of you and he lets go of you, opening the door. “I don’t think I’ll be letting you do that.” 

“I have to pay some time,” you argue, scooting across the seat and he laughs, getting in after you and closing the door. 

“No.” He says again. “You don’t.” He looks nervous for a single second before reaching a hand out tentatively towards you. Your heart thrums in your chest, and you slide across the expensive leather seat underneath it. He wraps a huge arm around you, and sighs. “It’s nice to be close to someone,” he says, the words falling from his lips before he can stop them, fuck, what an odd thing to say to a person, he probably sounded like some virginal-

“It is,” you sigh, relaxing against him, cutting off his internal monologue. He smells good, like sparkling citrus and pine, and he touches you so gently that your eyes nearly drift shut. “Sorry,” you look up at him, “I’m exhausted, and it’s only Thursday.” He laughs a little at that.

“Thanks for making a weeknight work,” he says, “I have a few things I gotta do for work this weekend.” 

“Oh, like saving the city?” You suggest brightly, “Rescuing damsels in distress?”

“There are a few kittens in trees,” He confirms grimly, “Someone gotta get them down.” You giggle, and the sound knocks the breath from his chest. “Or I’d want to see you again.” He blurts, and you laugh, looking nervous and shy. “Right away, I mean, but I can maybe, I could see you late on Saturday?” You nod. 

“Yeah, I could do that.” You hand him your phone. “Put whatever bat signal I should use to contact you in here.” 

“The bat signal is antiquated.” He tells you, pulling his sleeve back to reveal a silver chain bracelet. “This vibrates if they need me.” You look for a clasp on the bracelet and realize there isn’t one. He must never be able to take it off. 

“They can just call you? Any time?” You ask, and he shrugs. 

“That’s the deal. I don’t get a lot of private time, but uh,” he reaches out and cups your face, thumb sinking into the plush of your cheek. “Maybe we don’t have to talk about work right now?” 

“Maybe.” You whisper, and he leans down, pressing his lips to yours softly. You feel a bundle of nerves burst in your stomach, but he guides you, one hand on your face, one on your hip. It’s soft, and a little sweet, but there’s a needy undercurrent, it’s been a long time since either of you has been touched. You’re not sure who initiates the movement, you’d both deny it if asked, but you slide into his lap, straddling him, and he guides the movement, hands flying to your back, squeezing you against him. 

“Wait,” he lifts you effortlessly, adjusting your weight on his thighs, before kissing you again, it’s tender and deft, and the car moves through the city, panes of light passing over the two of you. Your hands move up to tangle in his hair, and even at the slightest tug, he groans into your mouth, holding you tighter, hands squeezing your thighs, your waist, your hips. You keep kissing, feeling the hum of the engine radiating through your bodies,  you hold him tightly and he reciprocates until the car slows to a stop and he pulls away, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes closed. You sit like that, in the quiet, for a full five minutes before he releases your thighs. You expect him to be embarrassed, sheepish maybe like he had been in the restaurant, but instead, his eyes sparkle in the darkness in a way that makes you feel very small and soft. He sits up and cups your face, pressing his lips to your forehead. 

“Can I give you my number?” You whisper, feeling silly, and he nods. You palm your phone to him and watch him text himself. He glances at your house, at the fence around the yard, at the porch with furniture on it. He struggles with something that it would take you time to understand. 

“Be safe, for me, huh?” He kisses you again. 

“I will.” You promise, not entirely sure what he means. He opens the car door for you, and when your feet hit the pavement it’s a hard rush back to reality. The light in your brother's room flicks off, and you sigh, before turning back to the car. 

“I’d walk you to the door, but uh,” He starts, and you shake your head. 

“It’ll be a bit before I’d want you to meet him, I just-” You manage, and he flashes his palms, cutting you off. 

“Of course.” He grins. “See you Saturday.” 

“See you Saturday,” you repeat, then nearly trip on the uneven sidewalk. Immediately you feel strong arms around your body and feel a strong breeze blow your hair back, as Midoriya catches you, and stands you back up, hands lingering on your waist for a second. 

“Breaking promises already,” He teases. “I said safe.” 

“Yes, yes sir,” you say weakly, opening your gate. “Night, Midoriya.” His cheeks go a little red, it’s been a long time since a woman even called him by his family name. 

“Goodnight.” You float up the walkway and into the house, and check in with the babysitter, getting yourself a glass of water before padding up the stairs to check on Kaoru. His fake sleeping is good, but not perfect, you see the white-knuckled grip he’s got on the stuffed animal that’s always on the floor when you come in to wake him up. 

“Hey squirt,” You say softly, sitting on the edge of the bed, and admire the care he puts into the performance. “How was it?” He rubs his eyes. 

“It was okay.” He mumbles. “I get scared when you go places.” You take his hand, rubbing a tiny circle in it. “I’ve talked to Patrice about it.” 

“Good.” Patrice was the therapist Kaoru spent an hour with twice a week, sometimes they’d talk, and sometimes he’d just color. “Are you anxious right now?” His mouth twists. 

“I don’t want you to think you can’t go out because I’m a baby,” tears, probably exacerbated by the fact that he’s awake well past his bedtime, start to well in his eyes. “But it’s hard.” His voice is small and pinched, you reach around and give him a squeeze, heart racing when you realize he’s in his Deku pajamas. 

“I promise.” You whisper. “I promise to always come home.” He nods, wiping his eyes, scowling. “You want me to read to you?” He nods again, and you get up and take the book off of the shelf. 

______

You’re sitting at your desk the next day when your phone buzzes, again with the generic ringtone that makes you jump. You avoid the odd looks from your coworkers at your borderline theatrical gasp and check to see who it is. 

Midoriya: I’m distracted 

Midoriya: that doesn't happen often, I’m trying to do paperwork and I’m thinking about you. 

You: oh dear 

You: perhaps you shouldn’t see me again

Midoriya: or perhaps I should see you sooner 

Midoriya: all joking aside I had a wonderful time with you. 

You: I did too!

Midoriya: did everything go alright with the babysitter? 

You: ah sort of 

You chew your lip, wondering how honest you could be without turning him off, without revealing more than Kaoru would want you to share with his hero. 

You: if I tell you something you have to promise not to be weird about it. 

Midoriya: deal 

Midoriya: but if this is about press coverage of me I promise I’m never dating whoever the magazine is printing me with 

You: oh oh no

You: it’s about Kaoru

Midoriya: Okay, shoot. 

You: he still freaks out a bit when I go anywhere, especially at night. Because his parents died in a car accident coming home from a date

Midoriya: ahhh

Midoriya: I understand

Midoriya: Can I say something maybe too forward to you? 

You: go ahead haha

Midoriya: you’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself to be a perfect parent, but not only are you not his parent, but the idea of perfection is also ridiculous 

Midoriya: you’re doing your best. 

You: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

You: that’s very kind of you.

Midoriya: you didn’t internalize a word of what I said, huh?

You: oh absolutely not. 

Midoriya: we’ll work on it. Saturday. I’m 90% sure I’ll have a few hours off. 

You: I’m looking forward to it. 

You put your phone down, hunching over your laptop, when it buzzes again, this time it’s a phone call. You swipe to answer, standing and bringing it to your ear, speaking in a hushed voice as you jog to the stairwell at your office for privacy. 

“Hello,” your voice is hushed. “Can I help you?” 

“Ms. L/n?” The woman at the end sounds bored. “We picked up your brother, this is the District four police station.” 

“Oh, my god.” Fear clutches at your heart. “Is he alive?” Your world shifts and the ground slides out from under you. 

“Yes, ma’am,” the woman says, “He’s alive, just started a fight with some other kids. You’ll have to come down and see if they wanna press charges.” 

“He’s nine,” you snap, suddenly on the defensive, “I, he’s-” 

“Ma’am you really oughta come down here.” You take a deep breath and hang up the phone. You barely grab your things, forgetting your jacket and clattering down the staircase, unwilling to wait for the elevator. You fly across town, and stammer your way through the front desk, so nervous you’re visibly trembling, but none of the cops will tell you where he is, they just direct you to a waiting area where there are two women already. They’re much older than you, with bleached hair and expensive outfits. 

“Are you his mother?” One of them snaps. “Tachi Momo,” she says, introducing herself angrily, “If your mongrel of a son put his hands on my child-” 

“And I’m Honda Yuki,” the other woman says, standing and turning to you, “And you bet your ass we’ll be pressing charges, there was a pro hero who saw the whole thing, your son antagonized and then hit my son,” she inspects you, you’re frozen, rooted to the spot, so angry speech is failing you. “Typical.” She scoffs. “Of course, have a baby out of wedlock and raise a delinquent.” 

“Shoulda let the state raise it.” The other woman says catlike eyes narrowed. 

“I’m his sister,” you snap, so angry you’re visibly shaking, “First of all, and second of all Kaoru’s the smallest kid in his grade, there’s no fucking way he antagonized your kids, he’s shy and intelligent, he’s,” you search within yourself, “And brilliant and kind.” You take another step towards them. 

“If you come any closer,” one of them says haughtily. “I'll have you charged with assault, my husband works for the mayor, you know, they don’t send siblings to prison together-” 

“No one’s goin’ to prison.” A deep voice cuts through the small room and you turn to see a huge hulking man standing in the doorway. He’s blonde, with a scar on the right side of his face and an extremely recognizable costume. Black and orange, with touches of green. He leans against the door frame and then lumbers forward. “I saw the whole thing.” He touches your shoulder. “Two older kids picked on the little one, he got a good hit in before I jumped in. Their kids are coolin’ off in the holding cell. Kaoru’s in a waiting room.” You whirl around, and he reads the desperation in your face, the fear, and softens. “Let’s go see him, yeah?” 

“Wait just a minute,” One of the women says, “You put my Rindou in a holding-” 

“Yeah,” Pro hero Dynamight turns around, an evil grin on his face, “Ya want a cell of your own, or are ya gonna keep your fuckin’ trap shut?” The woman looks scandalized but backs down immediately. He squeezes your shoulder. “This way.” You wordlessly, still shaking, follow him down a hallway and into a stairwell. He lets the heavy door shut behind you. “You want a second?” He asks quietly. “I can see your hands shakin’.” 

“Oh my god,” you choke out, covering your face with your hands and leaning against the wall. “He’s,” you try to take a deep breath, and find you can’t, your eyes well with hot tears, “He’s all I have.” You manage, before starting to cry, the endorphins of the last half hour breaking over you. “He’s,” you try again, “Please, he’s such a good, a good kid.” Dynamight stands in front of you, unreadable, arms crossed. You give yourself ten good seconds of breathing slowly before looking back at him. “Thank you, I can’t, I’ll never be able to repay you, you’re um,” you wipe your face, “Oh god you’re such a big deal I can’t believe you were there and you cared about some kid, I-” 

“‘S my job to protect people.” He interrupts you. “I was on patrol, just doin’ my job, they pay me enough you don’t owe me shit.” You shake your head, brushing off his words. 

“You don’t understand,” you nearly start crying again. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m a mess, I-” he hands you a handkerchief from his pocket and you wipe your face with it. It comes away sooty and stained with your makeup. 

“It’s alright,” he shrugs, “You uh, you got some,” he gestures to your cheek, where your tears have left a huge black smudge from your eyeliner. You rub at it hard, but it only spreads the makeup around. He takes the handkerchief from you, and holds your chin steady with one hand, wiping delicately at it with the other. He inspects you clinically, wide innocent eyes, pretty even when you were sobbing, and you’d been ready to go toe to toe with the bitchiest woman he’d ever met. He takes his time, feeling your pulse racing under your skin, measuring the way you’re willing to make eye contact, and decides you must not be starstruck at all. Good. “Got it.” He withdraws his hands and you sigh. 

“Thank you.” You take a deep steading breath. “Is he okay?” 

“Little black eye,” Dynamight confirms. “But he’s pretty chilled out, I uh,” he looks a little sheepish, fuck he’d have done more if he’d realized the kid had such a pretty legal guardian, “I got him a coloring book.” You light up like he said he’d handed Kaoru a million dollars. 

“You’re a lot nicer than you seem on TV,” you grant him a dazzling smile, “I’m ready, if you um, if you can show me where to go.” He nods, and leads you out of the stairwell, and further down the hallway to a room filled with kids' toys and books. Kaoru’s alone, sitting at a table. His glasses are gone, and he’s sporting a huge bruise below one eye, but he looks calm, though you can see puffiness in his face, he’d cried hard not too long ago. You push the door open and run inside, he gets up and you swing him off his feet, hugging him tightly. He holds you back, burying his face in your neck. 

“I’m sorry about my glasses,” he says, and you can hear how much he’s been crying in his voice. “They broke, I know you said if I lost them again-” 

“I don’t care.” You cut him off, “I don’t care, I'm just so glad you’re okay.” He nods, and Dynamight turns to leave, cursing himself for not finding a way to get your number. At that moment, a young woman pokes her head into the room. 

“Ms. L/n, we have some paperwork for you to fill out.” You sigh, putting Kaoru on the ground again. 

“Be right back.” You pat his head, and look to Dynamight, “Is it too much to ask you to wait with him for a few minutes, I-” 

“Not at all.” He interrupts you. “Get outta here.” You follow the woman out and spend the next few minutes signing Kaoru out. When you return, you hover at the door, listening to the conversation. 

“So if you’re fightin’ someone bigger than you,” you hear the pro hero say, “First of all ya should run, I don’t want your sister comin’ in and kickin’ my butt for givin’ your ideas.” You hear Kaoru giggle. “But if they got your back against a wall, whatcha gotta do is use their momentum against ‘em. Like this.” There’s some sound of movement, you assume a demonstration occurs. 

“Woah,” You hear Kaoru say. 

“But don’t pick fights or ah, if you do, you didn’t hear anythin’ from me, got it?” Dynamight rasps. 

“Got it,” Kaoru repeats, and that’s when you re-enter the room. You observe the scene, Dynamight is squatting on the rug, even bent like this he’s still taller than Kaoru standing up. 

“Hey,” He says, grinning sheepishly at you. “We were just-” 

“Don’t worry about it.” You wave to Kaoru, “Got your stuff?” He nods. “How about ice cream?” you watch your brother's face split into a smile. 

“Can Dynamight come?” he asks, tugging on your shirt, “Please, please, he deserves ice cream too.” 

“Ah,” you look over at him nervously. “I’m sure he’s very busy.” 

“My shift ended half an hour ago.” He admits. “I was on my way out when I heard those women talkin’ to you like that.” You swallow and squeeze your brother. “I’ll come with ya little man.” He reaches out and ruffles Kaoru’s hair. “There’s uh,” he says, “There’s a place around the corner, but d’ya mind if I change outta my suit? I don’t wanna attract too much attention. If a villain picks a fight with me you’ll get in the way.” You nod, but a few minutes later when he meets you in the waiting room, tall, broad, and handsome, you can’t imagine he’ll attract any less attention than he did when he was wearing his costume. His shirt is black, as are his pants, and the baseball cap he’s got on backward might obscure his identity, but his hulking silhouette gives him away completely. 

Kaoru chatters happily to him at the ice cream parlor down the street, and you can’t help but watch the way he nods, the way he engages the younger boy, swallowing his hand in a high five when Kaoru starts to talk about the flat teeth apatosauruses have. 

“They like plants,  yeah?” He says, and Kaoru nods, rewarding him with a gap-toothed smile. 

“I gotta pee,” Kaoru announces, darting off to the bathroom gleefully. You let out a long breath. 

“You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to.” You say quietly, unwilling to make eye contact with the blonde. “I, I understand that you probably have important or cool things to do.” 

“What makes ya think I wanna go back to my empty apartment so bad?” He says, adjusting the baseball cap. “He’s a sweet kid.” 

“I’ll never be able to repay you.” You lean forward, and there’s something in the plainness of the statement that hits him hard. “Not ever.” 

“That’s my job,” he protests and you shake your head. 

“He’s my whole world.” Your lips twitch. “Fuck, and you know what, it’s not your job to stand up for people like me. I know plenty of people who would have let those bitchy moms lay into me.” His chest puffs out a bit. 

“Yeah, well, not on my watch.” He looks down at your melting ice cream. “If ya, If ya want. No pressure. I’d love to take you out sometime.” You couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d thrown the cone in your face. 

“What?” 

“I,” his ears color but he plows forward. “Think you’re really pretty.” He grins, some of his confidence returning. “Plus,” he looks over at Kaoru’s empty seat, “Can’t let spend all your money on Deku merch for the kid.” That makes you giggle. “Think he’d like a Dynamight plush? They’re sold out in most places but,” he grins, leaning back in his chair. “I know a guy.” 

“Do you?” You grin, leaning forward. 

“You got some ice cream on your face.” He informs you slyly, and you feel  your skin burn with embarrassment as he takes the upper hand again, “Nah,” he watches you wipe your mouth, “Not there.” You wipe your cheek. “Not there either.” 

“Where?” You whine, a touch of petulance to your tone. 

“Here.” He reaches out, and flicks a finger in your ice cream, smearing it on your nose. “See, you-” 

“Dynamight!” You giggle, unable to stop yourself from swatting at him. He grins widely, showing off sharp canines and his mean smile. “I can’t believe you just did that!” You swat at him again and he ducks it easily. 

He drives you home, and insists on it, patting Kaoru on the head before leaning against his car door. 

“So what about it?” He says arms crossed in a way he knows makes his muscles bulge. “Gonna let me take you to dinner?” You think about Midoriya, think about his soft smile, his intelligence, his dark, needy kiss. It’s been a few years, though, since anyone has asked you out, and the more you think about it the more you realize there’s no way he’s just seeing you, right, he’s the number one pro hero? 

“Yeah,” you grin, handing him your phone. “I’d like that. I have plans on Saturday, but maybe sometime next week?” He nods, texting himself on your phone as Kaoru dashes inside. “What do you want to do?” He shoots you a shit-eating grin. 

“Bring the kid. I’ll cook.” 

“You want me to bring Kaoru?” You raise your eyebrows. He shrugs, glancing up at the house. 

“I gotta figure you’re getting a babysitter for your plans on Saturday, that’s expensive but what I’m thinking is that Kaoru’s probably not used to you bein’ away, and you won’t be able to focus on me if you’re thinking about him. And I want you focused on me.” You can’t fight the soft smile that spreads across your face, and he’s got one to match, patting your shoulder. “I’ll see ya on Sunday. Cool?” You nod. 

“Yeah,” You feel the weight of the day fall off your shoulders. “Cool.” 

____

“You can’t be fucking serious.” Anna flops on your bed, watching you try on the dress you’d picked up especially for your date on Saturday. “Two pro heroes?” You sigh deeply, twirling a little, inspecting your body in the dress. 

“I am so nervous.” You confess. “For either of them, Anna, they’re tall and handsome and cool and I am this,” you gesture to your body, “The most action I’ve seen in years is from the vibrator in my desk.” 

“Oh god,” She rubs her eyes. “Well don’t say that to them.” 

“I wouldn’t!” You protest. “I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t, I swear.” You rake your fingers through your hair. “I’m sure I can find a way for this to blow up in my face, like, absolutely positive.” She shrugs. 

“Or you could stop being anxious and enjoy the ride.” 

“I am incapable of that.” You lean into the mirror and blend your under-eye concealer a little more. 

“Shame.” She smirks. Shameful.”

hi! if you liked it, please rb. if you wanna be tagged in the next part, make sure you have your age in ur bio and send me an ask. I cannot keep track of comments asking to be tagged adhd too bad you Must Send Me An Ask! thank you.

part two

I’m not crying 🥹 yes I am 🥺😭

But that’s okay. There was a time before me, and there will be a time after me, and they’ll be fine. We were very lucky to have that time together. 

the liminal space between love and lonely | m. izuku

➳ tags ;; PLEASE READ! 18+ slow-burn, strangers to lovers, fem!reader, plot with porn, explorations of themes like loneliness, minor character death (oc character!), critique of the hero system and of deku, a character study of izuku midoriya, reader is a college student but no age specified!, cooking scene solo!male masturbation, emotional sex, praise kink, fingering, oral (f!recieving), unprotected sex, mostly very vanilla, multiple orgasms, creampies,

➳ wc ;; 26.2k

➳ a/n ;; well folks. we did it. a week of non-stop yelling and screaming, emotionally damaging myself, feeling weird and fucked up and finally.. finally we're here. after all this goddamn time. credits to @/rat-zuki for the izu on the corner and my most honest to god thank you to the bubblepop server who has been only kind to me as i made this thing. especially @cyancherub, @katonshoko and @a-shy-blueberry for betaing this goddamn monster (sorry i make. This many spelling errors lol)

check out the extended authors note here!

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➳ synopsis: pro-hero deku rarely breaks from routine - the one he'd been keeping up with damn near four years. he's meticulous and lonely. he finds he doesn't really have time to feel things like love or lust or anything inbetween. he only meets you circumstance and he finds himself unprepared for the chaos you set off in his heart. what is love but an escape from the loneliness of life?

He can hear the rain from inside.

He changes out of his costume in a little stall on the far east end of town. It’s empty. A single fluorescent light hangs over his head. An eerie clean on the inside, all black tiles on the floor and white doors. A white toilet with a manual flush on it. No toilet paper on the ground, astray. His bag hangs out in the corner as he shimmies out of his hero costume. It sticks and clings to his sweaty body, the thick kevlar material stitched together with steel.

His suit looks about as grimy as him. Sliding off of his torso is a task, he carefully peels himself out of it. His arms first, slowly over his abdomen and then a pause between to take off his belt and gloves. The rest gets tugged haphazardly over his thighs and ass and he steps out of it just before it hits the floor. He doesn’t take too much care to fold it, knowing it can handle the damage. He shoves it into the little duffel bag he has on him, then stacks the rest of his accessories over top. He zips it shut carefully - and stark naked, he takes a deep breath of stale bathroom air.

It hits his body first, the exhaustion. Right in his shoulders where he drops a little. Scratching the back of his neck, he sighs while no one is watching. His whole body droops as he unceremoniously relieves himself, the sound echoing especially loud in the tile bathroom with great acoustics

After that, he reaches into his bag for some babywipes. He keeps them on him to help him feel a little hygienic after long nights. The commute home is going to be long, two bus rides to his block. He uses one wipe to clean his dick off and another few to get the first layer of sweat off of his skin. He can’t help but feel uncomfortable, a leftover residue all over him. It’s better than nothing. The wipes get folded and rest on one of his bags and then he shuffles around in his backpack for clothes.

An all-white hoodie and some basketball shorts, the kind that hang to his knees with that mesh material. He changes into them immediately, soft fabric sliding over his body and making him shudder. The act of changing clothes doesn’t get enough credit for being an act of self-care, he thinks. The shorts come on next, slide just over his v-line, and hang at his hips loosely. There’s a cap and a mask at the very bottom, a white one and a black mask that he slips over the messy mop of green on his head. He snatches another wipe for his face, quick and easy, before sliding the black mask over his mouth and nose.

He makes sure everything is in order before he dips out of there. His duffel bag over one shoulder, his bookbag on his back - steady and secure. He rummages through his things and grabs a torn-up All-Might wallet, the one he’s had since 7th grade, before grabbing the used wet wipes and crumpling them in his hands.

With his freehand, he undoes the door. There’s not a single soul in here, not even a ghost. No leaky faucets or creaking doors to signal the fact that this place is alive. A big mirror stretches along one of the walls, all connected. He doesn’t give it more than one glance as he chucks the wipes in the trash and hurries outside.

When he gets there, it’s still raining. It’s an incredible, thundering rain now. It’s gonna soak him to the bone if he even steps foot in it, and he doesn’t have an umbrella. He could wait for it to pass, he thinks - staring out into the sea of night. Just a few streetlights and gusts of wind to keep him company, a flickering light at the station, and a vending machine between the male and female bathrooms. He’ll have to run through it anyways. To make it on the transport and get home so he can get some hours of well-needed rest, maybe eat and watch a documentary.

He thinks about it for a little, mouth open and brows furrowed. If Deku goes now, he could stop by 7/11. It’s the one that’s always open no matter how late it gets.. and if he goes there maybe he could warm a bento and get a gel pack of electrolytes. He should visit his mom soon, if not for anything else, for a homemade meal. He misses his mom a lot but tries not to think about it.

He should probably just go for it, so he does. With everything clutched to his body, Izuku Midoriya runs towards the first bus-stop that he’ll have to take. One more bus when he makes it and then he’ll be home. It’s not a far run, but running in the rain is always hard. For some reason, it feels like drowning, which is weird - shouldn’t you only be able to drown if you’re in a big body of water? He runs and inhales several gusts of air and water and it feels like he’s in the ocean. He makes it in the nick of time, still catching his breath when he stops.

He ducks into the plastic shelter for people who are going to ride the bus - some advertisements stuck to the wall. He got soaked like predicted. In his head, he’s practicing the way he’s gonna bow his head to the driver. He waits a while. Everything around here is closed now, all dark and dreary. There’s a hue of blue that sets over the whole place, he thinks the streetlights here are colored like that on purpose.

He thinks it’s 10 minutes before the bus gets there. The doors make a loud whoosh sound as they pry open and Deku slips himself between the cracks of the door. He bows at the driver extra deep, an apology whispered from chapped lips that gets waved off. He sits himself in the back, on the edge - just out of instinct. If anything were to happen on the bus, he would be able to see any suspicious passenger. He’s always vigilant, like a 6th sense, sometimes he forgets he’s doing it until it hits him, randomly. All out of nowhere, leaving him to sit in. It’s uncomfortable.

He decides to put on some music, just one headphone. His airpods are deep in his bag and he has to fish for them. He has a playlist that he defaults too, softer lofi sounds and some random acoustic - or whatever he feels like. He’ll listen to anything if he likes it enough.

Another habit, he takes account of everyone in the bus with him. He’s learned to do this everywhere he goes; it’s easier. If something happens - he’ll know what to tell the police and it gets done a lot faster. Late at night, there’s not many shady characters. A man in his late 50’s wearing a construction uniform, a drunk, brown-haired male college student, and a young woman with dyed hair who keeps staring at her ring finger. Other than all of them, it’s just the bus driver and Deku. He probably looks the most suspicious, with the hat and the mask on but he figures there isn’t anything for him to do about that.

The bus ride is smooth and quiet. Nothing happens. No signals to alert him to the threat of danger, just a shared sense of nothing-ness. When he gets closer to all the shopping centres, it’s a bit more lively. He listens to music and closes his eyes. It’s nice. There are so many more colors on every street and every sign, it’s a little easier to look at. He’s the first person to get dropped off among this crowd of people, and all of them watch as he idly passes.

When he leaves and steps off , the scent of petrichor invades his lungs - a hard hit to his chest. He breathes in so much of it he stumbles. The rain is soft now, like a kiss, but it still feels he’s drowning when he inhales. Short pants between each long breath. It’s cold and his clothes cling to him a little. He has 45 minutes till the next bus gets here, and there’s a 7/11 around the corner. He’s never been to that one specifically, he just knows it’s there. Today is the first day he’s going to try to look inside. He needs some more electrolytes, a protein bar, and probably something hot. A cup ramen with an egg, or something else that he can get down in under 15 minutes.

__

The rain made it look misty and far but the walk to the 7/11 was less than ten minutes. When he comes in, still soaking wet - he finds that no one is at the counter. He thinks whoever is working is probably inside of the break room so he doesn’t bother. He thinks anyone working this late should probably avoid strange customers, even him, so he grabs a basket instead. A little water squishies in his shoes as he walks around, a trail of wet steps following behind him

The bright lights makes his head ache, so he finds himself squinting as he walks around the store. It doesn’t stop him from getting what he needs. He finds some protein bars in one aisle, next to all of the electrolyte gel packages. He throws several of them in his basket and keeps moving through, examining each thing with care and patience. He doesn’t need a lot of the things in there, but he buys them anyways. Some jelly candy, a packet of biscuit sweets, some other junk. He normally eats well, healthy - but it’s been a long day.

He gets other things. Some baby wipes for his bag since he’s running out, gauze and bandages, a small two pack of headache medicine over the counter. A silly dog trinket to put on his keys that he buys a little more shyly. He’s so engrossed in it, he doesn’t hear your quiet footsteps as you meander back to the counter. You were on your bathroom break and when you came back, a shady dude in a hoodie and mask came in. Alarmed, you watch for a while.

But given all the things in his basket, he seems harmless. A squishy shiba-inu charm isn’t exactly something a villain would own.

You get engrossed in your reading again as he gets to the food in the back part of the store. Some warm street food, warmed in a rotisserie, cup ramen and a station for hot water, disposable chopsticks and a few left-over pre-packaged bentos. He decides on ramen, some eggs, and protein bars. When he gets home he’ll eat a proper meal, or at least try - but his stomach has been rumbling since he left the bathroom.

After 5 minutes of debating, he comes up to the counter - startled by your presence. You don’t stick out to him and he doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. He blinks down at you as you tuck your book away, a paper napkin being used to keep track. It goes somewhere under the counter as you yawn before greeting him.

“Welcome to 7/11. Did you find everything okay today?”

He goes blank for a second before registering what you’ve said.

“Oh, uhm - yes,” he replies awkwardly, putting his basket on the counter and slowly taking his things out.

You don’t look up as you start scanning his items one by one, punching something into the screen as you do. You talk on autopilot.

“Long night?” you ask, mindlessly. He gives you another surprised look before breaking out into a mostly genuine laugh.

“That obvious?”

His banter catches you off-guard. Before you know it, you’re cracking a smile at him. A little laugh leaves your mouth, heavy with the evening. Raspy from exhaustion, he imagines. You give him a once over, as if you’re thinking about it before nodding.

“A little, yeah.”

The pleasantry makes your mood lighter as you scan and bag his items. With rapport built, he feels comfortable asking.

“..Is it just you working tonight?”

Caught off guard, you lift your eyes to look at him. A little ribbon of fear pulls through you before relaxing. You nod a little.

“Yeah.. just me. I work the night-shift,”

He blinks at you like you’ve said something ridiculous. In a way you have, you know you have. It’s a little unheard for a woman your age to be working alone, late at night, in the middle of the city. It irritates him that your boss, whoever they are, would let you. The hero in him wants to ask if you have any weapons you know how to use, and if you know all the exists exits and how to signal for the police.

Nothing really comes out of his mouth, brow furrowed. Noticing his concern, you decide to give him a little more info.

“I live around the corner, maybe two blocks from here. The hours aren’t great but it works for my schedule. It’s a safe area. I’m pretty vigilant, so -,”

“Still.. a civilian should already be cautious but especially a woman your age -”

You pause, and so does he. A soft pink flush dusts his cheekbones. You blink.

“Civilian… are you a hero? That would explain why you're here so late,” ― you say aloud, ringing up the last of his belongings. You give him a good look, green hair peering out of cap and green eyes bright and blinking ― “...Pro-Hero Deku right?,”

Despite the fact he’s been a pro-hero for almost 4 years, he still isn’t sure how to handle being recognized. His face is plastered over the country yet he still finds the whole thing uncomfortable. Not knowing how to reply, he just nods.

“Y-yeah.. that’s me,”

Your eyes go wide for a moment, a little shock hitting you before giving him a smile.

“Oh..cool. Nice to meet you,”

After bracing himself for a slew of questions, his check back into reality feels weird. You tap at the screen a few times before going back to normal.

“That’ll be 2,950 yen” you tell him plainly. He’s stuck for a minute but manages to grope around from his wallet. He slides his card on the little machine, punching his pin in and hearing a little ding sound. Transaction complete rings on the machine and you print the receipt, tucking into one of the bags before pushing it lightly towards him.

He can’t describe it, the sudden need to stay here for a while, instead of rushing home like he’d planned. Maybe it’s because the hero in him couldn’t just leave, knowing you’d be alone this late at night. Maybe it’s something else. He doesn’t want to think about it.

“Can I eat this here?” comes out as a messy rush, hastily pulling out the ramen. You blink at him before smiling a little. He has a charm to him, a little awkward, that makes you laugh. Makes you feel better. It’s not so bad.

“Sure,” ― you tell him, leaning over the counter ― “Want me to keep you company?”

__

“So you’re a student here?”

Deku is less than halfway into his ramen, blowing on the hot noodles between each question before carefully sliding them into his mouth. You laugh a little, nodding your head with your chin resting on your palms.

“Yeah. I’m in what’s supposed to be my last year, but I don’t think I’ll graduate until next year,” you explain. You worry it’s too much information, you doubt a hero like him is all that interested.

But he looks engrossed in your conversation, even though one of his cheeks is swollen with hot ramen.

“I don’t really know anything about college,” he admits to you sheepishly.

“Oh yeah.. not a lot of pros go into college right?,”

He shakes his head, swallowing a bite and taking a breath.

“Not really. There’s some Hero Colleges and programs but most of us just join another agency as sidekicks or try to open our own,” ― he explains to you, raking his thoughts on who he can think of that went to one ― “I don’t think anyone from U.A’s graduating classes has gone to one. Some people at Shiketsu High, but not U.A,”

You give him a half-way smirk.

“I don’t see why a school of elites would need to go to a hero college either, yknow”

He chokes on his ramen, giving you a soft pout as you giggle. He wipes his mouth with a napkin, shaking his head as if to dispel any of the thoughts.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he insists. You smile at how genuine he’s being.

“I know, but isn’t it true? A school of such prestigious heroes.. I figure most of you went pro right away,”

“Me, Kacch- Dynamight, and Shouto opened our agencies as soon as we were 18. Most of our classmates went into being sidekicks but they almost all have their own agencies,”

“It’s cool that you have your own agency. I see you in the news all the time,” you tell him, comfortable complimenting him. His whole face always stops before it hits, a little blush delicate on his face.

It’s charming about him, you think. You have to admit, even you feel starstruck. A chance encounter with Pro-Hero Deku is nothing to sneeze at. Somehow, you think interviews don’t do him enough justice. In person, he’s much more charming. He’s awkward but he banters well and he’s handsome. He listens, too. Polite and respectable, you understand why he won Japan's Sweetheart last year.

“Ah.. thank you. It’s a dream come true for me, so I have to do my best,”

You give him a little smile.

“My little cousin loves you, so I’d say you’re doing pretty good,”

His eyes go wide, big and green and full of life.

“Really?”

“Really really. I was pretty starstruck when I realized and I’m not that big into hero stuff. I learn second hand from him,”

He gives you a laugh this time, loud and bright.

“Starstruck? Really? I’m surprised… you didn’t seem fazed at all,”

You shrug.

“I’m good at hiding my reactions. Working this late, it’s part of the gig,”

He gives you a deep laugh at that, straight from his chest. It sends a little chill up your spine.

“I bet..probably see a lot of.. interesting people here, huh?”

“Yeah, sometimes. Mostly just me though, gets kinda lonely,”

You don’t mean for the words to come off so heavy when you say them. You’re going to make a joke but you stop, stagnant - his green eyes are unusually somber. The most you’ve seen them the entire night.

“Yeah..” ― he replies back, voice distant and eyes far off― “I get what you mean,”

It’s hard to explain the feeling. It’s not like anything else you’ve ever felt. Maybe it’s just the adrenaline of good company, or the absence of light that has you feeling like this. It’s odd, all of it. You take an inhale and it’s quiet, and you think for a while.

“It was nice,” ― you say first, breaking the silence ― “Having company, I mean. It was nice to have someone here. My shifts are always super boring,”

He lifts his head to look at you. He’s probably just tired, just sleepy. The plausible reason for all that can only be his exhaustion. He’s compelled anyway. With a little laugh, he throws his things away and packs up his other belongings.

“It was, wasn’t it?,”

You’re the only person he’s spoken to in weeks. Just this small talk, so far removed from everything in his life.

“I’m here at the same time, everyday so,” ― you feel shy saying it, flush reaching your neck ― “If you’re ever in the area.. wanna kill some time. It’d be nice to see you again. I’m sure you’re super busy so no -”

“I’ll be back soon,” he says with finality, a little breathy at the end of your sentence. He smiles at you and you smile at him. It’s dizzying

You laugh back, and your shoulders relax. A grin makes itself permanent, cheeks aching.

“I’ll look forward to it, Mr. Deku,”

It’s his turn to look shy.

“Ah.. Midoriya. You can just call me Midoriya,”

“I’ll look forward to it... Midoriya,”

He gives you one last goodbye, watching as you wave from the window towards him. He can’t help but laugh. When he turns around, he checks the time and his eyes go wide. An exasperated chuckle leaves his mouth. The bus he was supposed to take left more than an hour ago but the next one is close by. He’s still kind of wet from the rain, and his shoes are soaked.

But he feels full, and not at all uncomfortable . When he walks to the station, he has a permeating warmth in him. He catches the next bus with all of his things intact and makes it home in around fifteen minutes. The suns just about to rise when he stumbles into his empty apartment.

Normally, he’d feel like he’s dragging his feet. But when he gets home, he has all this energy he’s not sure what to do with. He showers first, hot water washing off the grime of the day, and when he gets out he changes into new clothes.

But when he gets out, he finds he’s not hungry. He doesn’t really want anything other than to sleep and for it to be tomorrow again. He goes home and thinks of you the whole day. He doesn’t remember the last time he slept so easily until his head hits the pillow.

__

Deku’s daily routine for the last two years has been very consistent.

It took some time for him to get it all in order, a lot of planning and replanning. He’s the head of his own agency - in the first place, he feels like he’s always on the clock. The biggest of the big three, All Might's successor, he has a lot of responsibility. When people need advice about running an agency, he’s normally the first person they’d ask. These days some of the responsibility gets passed onto Kacchan and Todoroki, but Deku has always been the friendly one, the helpful one.

He really doesn’t have it in him to say no, so when Kirishima calls him at odd hours with his most sincere “Midoriya!” it’s hard for him to ignore. A routine is less of want and more of necessity. To keep his sanity intact, he has to know exactly when and how something is going to happen. He’s more disorganized than Kacchan, and more lenient than Todoroki. And it took a long time - almost two years - to get a good schedule that he could follow every single day without getting too exhausted or overworked.

Everythings worked out, down to the most devilish detail. During the weekday, he patrols the night shift about 5 days a week. He wakes up around 12pm after going to sleep at around 6am each night. On Mondays and Fridays, he does cardio first thing in the morning and the rest of the week is weight-training. Half a gallon of water before and after each workout. He eats for the first time at 2pm and logs his macros, almost 200g of protein a day. More water and then he showers at 3pm. He’s always in the shower for 27 minutes exactly and out of the bathroom at 3:30.

After his shower, he meanders around his house and takes care of little tasks before he leaves the house in another hour. He dries his hair and puts product in it, puts on lotion and deodorant, waters whatever plant he manages to keep alive. It’s nice, the domesticity. In that time, he normally checks up on chats and replies to old friends. Always shallow, little conversations when he has the time. He calls his mom and she gives him a lecture about taking care of himself.

It’s all routine, and at 4:30 he gets dressed. The commute to his agency is about an hour, most of it just waiting for the next bus and on a good day - he makes it around 5:30, half-an hour before he’s supposed to be there. Most days though he’s lucky to be in around 5:45. When he steps foot in the agency, he’s normally swarmed immediately.

His assistant fills him on what paperwork needs approval and what’s going on in the day, within the week. What meetings, what dates, what information needs to be sent to the data analysts on the bottom floor. He’s in the office for about two hours doing housekeeping, and delegating tasks to the rest of his team. He normally eats again, right before patrols. At 8, he knows it’s time to change into his costume.

He patrols from 8:30pm to 3am, sometimes later if there’s more crime than usual. He’s the last person at the agency, and at 3am he picks up his stuff from the office. Sometimes he changes in there but most of the time - he’s rushing to get it completely closed down. He normally grabs his bags and walks to the little restroom station in the middle of nowhere.

He changes and takes two buses just like before. It’s better for the environment to commute, but he thinks maybe he should invest in a car, or a bike. The commute is much shorter at night than during the day, when there’s traffic. He’s normally home sometime around 5. He eats one big meal again and goes to sleep. He thinks he should eat a little less at night but patrols leave him starving. He showers before bed and does it all again the next day.

He has one day off a week, on Sundays he doesn’t work at all. He’s mostly unreachable except for the emergency phone he has. He disconnects other than the news on TV. He only really started taking a day off because of his mom, anyway. He spends it in the house, watching documentaries, or sleeping, or getting some more weight training in. He can deadlift a few tons by now.

His week is routine, and he keeps busy wherever he can. It’s hard to see friends when everyone is scheduled at different times, doing different things. Sometimes he gets lucky enough to see Todoroki or Kacchan during the week - and even if his childhood friend is hard pressed to admit it, it’s nice to see each other. Most Sundays, he visits his mom and hangs around her house. He thinks most people would find it weird, but it’s comforting. Laying on the couch and watching romance movies with her, passing her tissues when she cries.

He’s gotten good at laughing off her comments about when he’ll find someone. They’re lighthearted by nature, but he knows there’s an edge of truth to them. Deku doesn’t remember the last time he thought seriously about love, or the last time he changed his routine. Some things, he just doesn’t think about. He can’t, realy.

He’s had the same routine for almost 2 years and he doesn’t normally deviate from it.

But it’s been a few months, and everyday after work - Deku pushes back his plans to go home by about an hour. He catches the latest bus there and gets about an hour less of sleep than normal. It’s not enough to stop him. He doesn’t eat as much at night like he used to, not as hungry as before. He just goes home and sleeps. And lately on Sundays, he still visits his mom but he can’t wait for the weekdays to come again.

He’s been journaling since he was young, too, accustomed to jotting his day down. Just to keep track of heroic stuff. Important details. His habitual note-taking never really went away, notes of notorious villains and cases line his walls edge to edge. In his personal journal, he normally jots down whatever comes to mind. Nothing interesting. Nothing special, by nature. Deku doesn’t really have much going on.

These last few months though, each page has more than a few paragraphs. Sometimes the entries fill to the edge of the page. They’re long and detailed. Sometimes beautiful, maybe even poetic. These days, they’re filled with the words of a person. A someone. Not a classmate, or a new sidekick. Just someone, who works the nightshift of 7/11 and likes to sleep.

He’s started to keep his pen and paper in the bag instead of waiting to get home, words buzzing around in his head. He writes down the details of your conversation on the bus ride back, a playlist in his ears. On each page, there’s little bumps and blips from where the bus hits a pothole. It’s dated, and organized. You can see where little notes become full pages.

And it’s filled edge to edge with new facts about you. Next to words about what beautiful things he’d seen that day. The sun and how it rose, the dog walking on the street. It’s different for him, to sit down and think of beautiful things. He doesn’t remember the last time he found anything beautiful, at least not like this.

Deku learns these things about you, in order. He learns your name - your full name. The country you're from and where your parents are from. Where you go to school and what you major in. Your best friend's name. He learns what your tattoos mean, and how many piercings you have and which ones you want. Why you part your hair the way you do or why it’s styled the way it is, and what your favorite colors are. One week, he learns in detail your analysis of your favorite anime franchise. He learns what colors you like to paint your nails and why your manicures are always chipped.

Some details you don’t express to him, some he just catalogs. You always have your right hand over your left. Your smile is a little lopsided and you don’t rest your face often. You always look sleepy, even when you’re wide awake. You like to laugh and you like making stupid jokes. You like complimenting him. You don’t mind when he stutters in conversation. You like to eat those little jelly packets when you’re feeling antsy. Your physics class is exhausting because it’s the only book you study when you’re not reading a fiction book or manga.

You’re exhausted. You’re pretty to look at. When he looks at you, he thinks he should know more about you. He’s starting to feel something for you. It’s weird. He doesn’t mind your company. He wants to see you again.

He wants to see you again.

He wants to see you again.

__

He starts bringing face wash in his bag to look decent for you.

It works. Yesterday, when he saw you, you told him he looks refreshed. He did today again, but he knows you might not notice. Still, it felt like the right thing to do.

He ducks his head a little when he enters after his long shift. The bright lights are still blinding and it’s raining again - knee deep into storm season. He should buy an umbrella soon. When he walks in, he immediately looks at the counter. When he finds you're not there, he’s more disappointed than he should be. He gets over it fast, busying himself with grabbing his to-go choices of dinner. It’s quiet, just him and his thoughts. His back aches a little so he buys a little muscle relief pad to put on it when he gets home.

It was a busier day than normal. There was a shoot-out earlier, a couple miles from his agency. Him and Kacchan ended up taking care of it, and about a group of 7 villains were arrested at the scene. There’s three more on the loose. After everything, Uraraka came by to help take care of the aftermath but those villains were tough to fight. All long range fighters, not Deku’s speciality even with blackwhip. A small criminal organization trying to gain some notoriety in the public, Deku’s been watching their case for months now.

Nothing they can’t handle but exhausting all the same. His body is sore all over, covered in bruises. He got patched up in the agency, in the medical unit but he can’t help but feel tired.

Still, he ended up coming here. He decides to eat a bento today, instead of ramen.

When you wander back behind the counter, you smile. You watch him mutter to himself for a minute or two before calling out for him.

“Look what the cat dragged in,”

His whole body gets warm when you talk. He stands up and turns around, a grin on his cheeks. Sheepishly, he walks over to you with a basket on hand. He walks over to the counter and places the little basket on top of it. You go to scan his things with your usual autopilot on.

“Oh! A bento today?,”

He smiles and laughs, resting his forearms on the counter. Your eyes are drawn to them. Instead of the usual hoodie, it’s a white v-neck that sticks to all the most muscular parts of his body. You shiver as you look and then look away. He yawns.

“Yeah.. felt like I should eat something more proper,”

You snort a laugh at that.

“For being a pro-hero, your diet is kinda shit, isn’t it?”

He blushes at you.

“What gave it away?”

“Ramen, I can forgive. But the protein bars and electrolyte packs are dead give-aways. You don’t cook..?”

He flusters a little bit more, shaking his head when he winces.

“Never picked it up, to be honest,”

You give him a smug smile before laughing as you ring up the last of his things.

“You’re such a mamas boy,” ― you tease, and he laughs and lets you ― “Lemme guess, you didn’t learn how to do a bunch of stuff until you moved out,”

He chuckles, paying for his items in between exchanges. He nods.

“When we moved into the dorms, Kacchan had to show me how to use the washer and dryer. I was also super clumsy about washing dishes. Too much soap, not enough time under the water. Little stuff like that,”

“And now…?”

He crinkles his nose and gives you a faux-pointed look.

“And now.. I use the dishwasher. I’m clean though, I swear,”

“Uh-huh. Sure,”

He rolls his eyes and the look sends your stomach fluttering. It’s a little more snarky, more comfortable. Your cheeks ache from smiling.

“What about you?”

You hand him some wooden chopsticks, putting his basket under the table as he settles into the seat closest to your counter next to the window. You give it a thought, as if deciding on what to say.

“My place is mostly spotless, other than my bedroom. My bedroom is a complete nightmare. Clothes and books and stuff everywhere. I can cook though, had to learn since college made me super broke,” you muse. He gives you a soft smile.

You pause, tugging your lower lip between your teeth.

“I could cook for you sometime,” ― you suggest, treading especially careful, heart in the back of your throat ― “Whatever gets you to stop eating out like this.. for the greater good, y’know,”

He stares at you, gaping. For a split second he thinks he’s gonna be sick, but before you can retract - he scrambles. Chewing and swallowing his rice with impatience, he lifts a hand and nods his hand.

“No, I’d - uhm, I’d love that. I miss.. eating home cooked meals, honestly. Maybe you could.. you could teach me something?”

Your turn to be surprised. Your eyes go wide before relaxing and grinning, dropping your head down.

“Yeah. I can teach you to make curry. It’s really easy, but if I’m gonna take time out of my precious schedule to teach you, you have to promise to be a good student. No half-assing,”

Everything is so relaxed. So pleasant. He laughs, so loudly and so openly it makes your heart race. That feeling in your gut triples in size and you think to yourself, only briefly, what the odds were of meeting someone like him.

“If there’s one thing I’m good at is trying my best,” ― he tells you confidently, a little smugness tied to the end of his words. It flushes you instantly ― “I’m a fast learner too. I’ll make you proud,”

You can’t stop smiling. You think if a car came through the other window, all of your attention would still be right at him. Something about him is homely, familiar. He’s so easy to talk to, you forget that you haven’t known him long. You forget all the work you have to do still, all your worries.

“You better,” you try to say with authority. The both of you fall into laughter and it goes quiet for a moment. It’s not uncomfortable, a soft thrumming heartbeat and two people and nothing else.

“By the way,” ― you lean forward, examining him a little more closely ― “what happened today that’s got you so beat up?”

He widens his eyes and shakes his head.

“Nothing to worry about,” he assures you. The response immediately makes you frown.

“I know I’m a civilian Mr. Deku, but c'mon,” you urge “You look tired and you bought those little muscle patches - what’s up?”

He strains his face, frowning. His brow furrows.

“Are you sure you wanna know?”

You roll your eyes a little.

“Yes I’m sure. I’m always sure. If I didn’t wanna know, I wouldn’t ask,”

He supposed he can’t argue with that. He thinks on it, for a moment like he doesn’t know what to say. Your face softens watching his back and forth.

“You don’t have to sugarcoat it,” ― you say cautiously ― “Just say what,s on your mind. Don’t think about it too hard,”

He gives you a quick run-down of the day. All of the information is public, in the news. He sprinkles in some details about who he fought but doesn’t go into detail. He watches as your face strings up in concern, smiling softly at you.

“You don’t have to worry about it,” ― he tells you, his best hero look on ― “I got patched up, just sore. In a days’ work,”

“Of course I’m gonna worry,” ― your mouth curls into a pout, sighing a little ― “I know it’s your job and everything. It’s just like.. I don’t know - I still worry. I care,”

He laughs, and smiles. He doesn’t like making people worry, but from you.. it doesn’t feel so bad.

“Are you okay?” ― you ask, as if trying to figure out what you can do ― “Mentally or physically. Are you… is everything okay? Do you need anything,”

His heart feels heavy, just a little. He doesn’t remember the last time someone asked him that. He doesn’t know how to reply to it, mouth going cotton dry. His chest feels tight and his eyes are itchy.

“I uhm.. I’m really okay. Sore, like I said. But today’s job wasn’t so bad. Nobody got hurt, and everyone got out safely. It went well, all things considered,” ― he pauses like he doesn’t know how to finish his sentence ― “I’m.. today it was okay. I’m okay. Tired though, I even showered at the agency,”

You’re still frowning. Maybe you’re pushing it, the boundaries between the two of you.

“When it doesn’t go okay,” ― you say through a bated breath ― “Even when it doesn’t go okay, you can tell me. I don’t mind,”

But it sounds a lot like a please, like an “I want to know when something bad happens” and it’s enough to choke him up a little. He simply nods.

You give him a tight smile, before sighing.

“You said you were sore right? Do you… I could uhm.. help you put on your muscle patches. So you can just go home and sleep,” ― you say awkwardly ― “Th-the break room doesn’t have c-cameras so you wouldn’t have to worry about anything. I just.. I think you should rest as soon as you get home,”

There’s that funny feeling again, deep in his gut. It curls all over him, a sticky feeling so syrupy, it burns. A pink hue brushes against the nape of neck, wrapping around his ears, dancing on his nose and freckled face. He’s really not used to it. Not a moment of it.

But without thinking, he nods. Something comes over him, and he says sure.

“Yeah.. uhm. If you want too.. sure. That’d be.. nice,”

___

When he finishes his food, he throws it away in a grey trash can with a round opening. You tell him he leaves his stuff behind the counter instead of where he sits, and he obliges without hesitation. He leaves it right next to your stool where your book sits. You put a little sign up - that the employee is on a break and will be with you shortly and gesture for him.

Carefully, you guide him through a narrow hallway into the breakroom. It’s a big and windowless room. Inside of it there’s some lockers along the walls and a little rack to keep jackets and bags - separating the place into two. A TV sits against one of the walls and then a bunch of poster boards. You have employee of the month, an awkward photo of you put up. He smiles at it and you flush.

“I’ve had it for 4 months now, so the pictures are kinda old,” you explain self-consciously. He chuckles. He can’t help but feel that’s so very typical of you.

There’s a table in the center of the room. You tell him to give you a minute as you go back behind the wall. While you do, he examines the rest of the room. A machine for clocking in and out, a sink and a trash can, some chairs and some random pins for putting on your employee lanyard. Some coloring books, some crayons and other random stuff.

You return with a wooden stool you think he’ll fit on.

You take the little bag out of his hand and place it on the counter. He’s taller than you so you have to reach up to guide him to the stool. He plops himself down on it and flushes.

“Where do you need them?,”

“Uhm.. a lot of them are on my back. Upper and lower, and a few on my shoulders. Wh-when I do it alone, I just stick them on and hope for the best,” he explains to you. You shake your head.

“I figured,” ― you brush something touching your skin out of your face ― “I can press around and then you can tell me where you need one. Does that sound okay?”

His whole body goes stiff.

“I used to do this for a friend in highschool. So.. don’t worry about it too much,” ― you explain, trying your best to swallow the abashed feeling ― “Y-you might wanna take your shirt off though,”

“Oh! U-uhm.. yeah. One sec,”

You step back and try to avert your gaze. He takes his hat and mask off first and pauses. After, he gives a shaky exhale as he grabs the bottom of his v-neck in his hands, scarred hands crossing as he tugs it over his torso, above his head, and eventually all the way off of his body. All of his clothes get dropped on the table next to him, and he runs a hair through curly green hairs. Just to push back most of it, away from his face. He sits there, straightening up his back and you see it for the first time.

You’ve heard all sorts of stories about Deku and his scars. Your younger cousin has told you about it, how cool they are. It’s rumored that he has over a hundred, all kinds of battles lingering on his body. You know he has a lot, and have known ever since you saw his hands. It’s more scar tissue than skin.

It’s.. so different up close. Mixed emotions well up inside of you, and your hands tremble when you reach out and touch it. A little jolt of electricity goes up his spine and he twitches, but you don’t move your hand. Like you can’t. Your eyes are making him nervous.

“I know it’s kind of.. ugly to look at,”

You shake your head, but you realize he can’t see. You place your whole hand on his back, the muscle between his spine and shoulder. A delicate thumb brushes on the skin. You can’t seem to pull back, can’t look away at all, even when you try. Your eyes are big and they feel unusually tearful.

“No.. I don’t think they’re ugly at all. I just wasn’t expecting so many scars,”

He laughs unsteadily. It’s so intimate. His heart is in his ears. His body feels somewhere far away.

“Yeah. I hear that a lot,” ― he replies, nervous, and playing with hands like he doesn’t know what else to do ― “It doesn’t bother you..?”

It’s the softest touch. So gentle, and so.. caring. He shakes a little as you run them up, on his shoulder. You squeeze it.

“Not at all.. I like them,”

His eyes widen. He turns to look at you over his shoulder and you don’t look disgusted. You look fascinated. You look at his scars, then briefly at him. Your eyes meet and he stares at you.

“You.. like them?”

You nod, and don’t break eye-contact.

“I like them,” ― you confirm with finality, like there’s not more to be said ― “They’re unique. I don’t know.. I don’t think they’re ugly,”

He feels it, when you say it. He knows it’s nothing to ride home about, but he can’t remember. When was the last time someone touched him like this? When was the last time he let someone.. look at him so close? He can’t remember. He isn't sure he cares but he can feel your hands.. all over his skin. He breathes out.

“Thank you.. for thinking that,”

You really don’t mean to touch him. You weren’t planning on it. But your hands move freely across his skin and before you can think. You pull back.

“Is this okay?” but there’s an addendum unspoken, is it okay if i touch you like this?

He nods a little, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah.. it’s okay,” but it sounds like yes, yes please

You reach out again, like a ghost on his body. Your hands are gentle at first, you press them against the muscles of his back. He takes a breath. You don’t feel like your voice is in its place. The words come out quiet, hushed.

“If I press somewhere and it hurts.. tell me and I’ll put a patch on,”

You don’t mean to touch him like this. Yet you can’t stop yourself either, your hands roam over the free parts of his skin, thumbs pressing down. You watch his body carefully, listening to his deep sighs or when he winces. He lets out a sharp inhale when you're closer to his lower back, so you stop and feel around. Your fingers knead the tense muscles and he lets out a soft sound, like a whimper. It’s halfway between pathetic and exhausting. Your core tightens a little.

“You’re so tense,” ― your voice is halfway above a whisper, electric ― “Relax a little,”

He wants to say he’s trying. He swears with everything he has he’s trying. But all he can think of is the pressure of your nimble hands, this skin on skin feeling - intimacy. The word feels like swallowing swords, so sharp and so deep. He can feel it in his chest, so suffocating. Overwhelming. He wants to relax but all he can think is how long it’s been.. to be touched. He hasn’t even had time to think about it. To wrap his head around something like that.

“Sorry,” comes out his mouth and you shake your head.

“It’s okay,” ― you press and he winces, then you pause and put one on ― “This is for you. I don’t want you to stress about it,”

It shocks him a little. It’s for him.. He feels feverish. He feels lightheaded and like he can’t breathe and your hands are hot they feel like steel rods. Molten against the skin of his back, you dance over every bump. He’s jagged from how often he’s been torn apart but you’re so unfazed. You touch every part, up his spine over his shoulders, down his arms.

It’s blistering to experience so much all at once. Like a flood, a natural disaster in the crevices of his heart. It’s overwhelming. The presence of your body, how the heat radiates. Your soft breaths, concentrated. The shuffle of your feet and the sounds of plastic being torn and placed. There’s nothing he can focus on other than you and how your hands are feeling his body. How small they are compared to his muscular form. How soft they are, scarless and warm. So inviting he can feel it stir in his stomach. He’s barely holding himself together, clenching his muscles so the blood stays in place.

“Is there anywhere I missed?”

No, not from what he can feel. His whole body has heat on the sorest parts of him.

“My shoulders.. the right one,” he rasps. You massage the muscle underneath until you hit his shoulders. His whole body is like stone, both stiff and muscular. You wince a little as you touch it, press on it. His whole body convulses at the feeling.

“There?”

He breathes in.

“Y-yeah, there,”

His normal numbness is replaced with oversensitivity. Every movement, or gust of wind, or touch makes him feel like his stomach is binded in knots. You don’t stop until every muscle that’s sore is covered in a soft white bandage. He tries his best to adjust to it, but he never does. When you’re all done, you smooth another hand over his skin, patting his back. He urges his disappointment down. Tries his best to leave it behind. His gut sinks.

“I think I got everything,” ― you whisper, almost noiseless, as you step away from him ― “If there’s anything else I can do for you, Midoriya - just let me know,”

He slips his shirt over his body and gathers his things. He watches you as you throw the little packets away and rearrange his bag. There’s a lingering feeling all over him, each nerve bristled. More awake than they’ve been in years. When you turn back around, his heart races even faster than before. Your eyes are unchanging, half-moons and delicate. Little rings of exhaustion and heavy lashes. He wants to do something for you, but he can’t think of anything.

“Can I have your number?”

You stumble a little at the question. You press your lips together and nod.

“Yeah,” ― you look down at your feet, shuffling nervously ― “My phones by the counter,”

The tension is so thick, he can feel it web in his lungs. Every breath he breathes smells like you, sweet. His whole body feels like it pulsates, the blood rushing in his skin. His ears pound and his footsteps feel heavy and the idea he has to leave and just go home after this makes him antsy.

You guide him back through the narrow halls after he puts his mask and hat on. He takes his bag from behind the counter and exits to the other side. No one’s come by and it doesn’t look like anyone will. You immediately grab your phone, and your hands feel like they’re buzzing.

“I’m not free this Sunday. I promised my mom I would help her with her tomato beds” ― he scratches the back of his neck, staring at the counter before braving face to meet your eyes ― “But next Sunday, if you still wanna teach me how to.. uhm, cook,”

You survey his expression, corners of your lips upturned.

“.. Yeah. Give me your phone and I can give you a time that works for me,”

He reaches for it, unlocking with a quick swipe, pulling his mask down for face ID. He hands it to you carelessly and you give him a little side-eye laughing. A pro-hero like him should be more careful. He watches as you type some words, scrolling through a sea of emoji and making sure your contact is all set up. You hand it back to him and he tucks it in his pocket.

“Text me that you made it home safe Mr. Deku,”

He shakes his head, laughing.

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be saying to you?”

You shrug.

“Maybe. But I said it first, so you gotta do it okay? Otherwise how will I know my dame made it home safe,”

He laughs then blushes at being called a dame, shaking his head. At how ridiculous you make him feel at ease. He nods his head.

“Of course. You too, be safe getting home,”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Midoriya,”

“See you tomorrow,”

__

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s been so high strung

After his bus ride home, he finds himself alone with his thoughts for the very first time in a long time. Normally, after seeing you, his body doses itself on whatever sleepy chemical and he falls asleep promptly. But today, no matter what he does, he can’t seem to fall asleep. One hundred jumping jacks, a warm shower and warm glass of milk, counting to almost one thousand. He’s been at it for what feels like hours, trying his very best to sleep.

But he can’t turn his thoughts off. They’re especially loud and they seep themselves into every crevice of his mind, no stone unturned. He just wants to sleep. He wants it desperately but every time he reaches for it, eyelids heavy, his desire pulls him right out.

Deku’s relationship to sex is.. complicated. The older he got, the less he got off. Not because he didn’t want to, or that he didn’t have any desires but mostly because he was so swamped he didn’t have it in him to do it. He was drained enough, and if he wanted stress relief or to get the hormones out of his system - a couple hours of powerlifting seemed to do the trick. He’s had plenty of offers for sexual favors but he doesn’t really have any strings attached. The last time he had anyone.. touch him was in highschool when he lost his virginity to Uravity in his third year.

Those feelings washed out and he was left an adult with no practical experience in sex or dating. He has his fair share of fantasies, stuff that goes in his bank of materials when he finds the time for it. But he works now, so much and so often, he can only really get a quick one in when he’s in the shower. In the same way you might scratch an itch, it’s quick and easy. Not fulfilling but it gets the job done and settles his want for intimacy.

He hasn’t thought about it really at all in almost a year. There’s always so much to do, no time to think about anything but hero work. In the prime of his career, it’s even less than an afterthought.

But now it’s almost 7am and Izuku Midoriya is tossing and turning in his bed with a desire so raw and so hungry it makes his whole body burn up. He feels guilty to make you the object of his desires. It’s already hard enough for him to admit to himself what this all means. He still hasn’t and he isn’t sure when it’ll happen.

But the sun is rising and birds are chirping, and Deku has one hand pulling his shirt over his abdomen and another tugging at his cock, hard and thick and heavy. He hasn’t touched himself in so long and this yearning feeling doesn’t do anything to settle it. He spits into his palm and drips it on before setting a pace. His own hand runs carefully up his torso as he remembers your touch. So intimate and so patient. He doesn’t remember a time in his life where anyones touched him like that. You’re the first to ever treat him so gently. Your hands are so small compared to his, compared to him. He towers over you.

He knows all the little expressions you make - happy, sad, excited. He can almost see it when he squeezes his eyes shut hard enough, what you’d look like with your hands wrapped around his cock. How’d you stroke it so patiently, how soft they’d feel - it makes him fuck into his fist. Like if he goes at it hard enough it’ll start to feel like you. He wants to be sated so he holds off on cumming so quickly. He lets himself get impossibly hard and tugs his cock, edges himself till the tip of its stark red.

All he can think of is you. If he got lucky, maybe he could touch you in return. The thought sends him reeling, how your body would feel locked between his palms, massaging your skin. He wants you so bad and he wants to cum, fuck he wants to cum more than he wants anything else. He wants to cum with you, or on you, or inside of you.

“Oh fuck,” ― something guttural leaves his chest as he fantasizes about you calling his name. Not Deku or Midoriya but Izuku ― “Fuck, fuck,”

Izuku, Izuku, Izuku - it’s all he thinks of. Bouncing you so pretty on his lap while you call for him. Touching you in the same way you touched him, burning all over your skin. He wants it so bad he’s drooling. His whole body tightens and he spasms and his fist goes sloppy. He cums so hard he thinks he might see light, and it shoots so thick - all the way up to his chest. It comes out in ropes, hits his chin and keeps spurting until there’s nothing left. His body shakes, little tremors in between each breath. His breath is ragged like he’s been running a marathon. He’s sticky and he has to get up to wash his hands and clean himself off - feeling just slightly ashamed at what just occurred. He’s sure when he wakes up he’ll feel the full force of his embarrassment, and the thought alone makes his heart almost fall out of his ass.

More than anything else though, in the cool fluorescent lights of his bathroom - he examines himself. He hasn’t done that in a long time either, examine his state of being.

The nature of loneliness is that it seeps into you slowly. So slowly you don’t feel it at first. You become so isolated that you forget what it’s like to be in the company of someone. Something happens, and you don’t feel it for a brief moment, and it’s like you can breathe all over again. Someone welcomes you to themselves and you want to stay. When they smile, you want to share in their joy and when hardship troubles you, they carry their burdens on your shoulders. You meet someone, someday, and it clicks that they understand you and you are reminded of how lonely you are and have always been.

It’s nearing 8am and Deku stares at himself in the mirror for the very first time in weeks. The sun peers in through the side windows, yellow golden light making shadows all over his body. He looks at his eyes, his hands, his scars - the muscle patches and he thinks of you. And how the dreadful feeling he’s been avoiding this whole time finds him again. He knows what it’s like to be knocked on your ass, but this feels worse. Heavier, somehow.

Everything he’d been avoiding till now falls into his lap with a sudden force. It’s gut-wrenching but not agonizing. The sort of stomachache you get from knowing instead of not. He wants to go back to right before this, when he didn’t have a word. When he was ignorant to his own needs that he’d been putting off.

Japan’s Sweetheart, All-Mights Successor, Number One Hero - Izuku Midoriya is lonely.

__

Next Sunday comes so quickly he almost misses it.

It was a busy week, more so than usual. The beginning of the fall season means an increase in organized crime and a decrease in violent crimes. It’s less strenuous physically but an uprise in gang-related or villain organization killings tends to put him under an unusual amount of stress. The whole he was in and out of the agency, tracking evidence with the police and generally working longer hours. Sleeping in and napping at this desk, his assistant putting a jacket on his shoulders as he plants himself face down on his desk.

It’s more of an issue since Deku is... meticulous. He likes to be through in a way a lot of his peers just aren’t and it means he’s double, triple checking every single thing before it goes out in the reports. Tracing and retracing steps - generally stewing over hero work even when he’s asleep. Twice that week he had to jump out of his shower, naked and covered in soap, to jot down some leftover thoughts. No stone unturned and not a single path untaken.

In between all of that, he spends most of his time texting you. Or the other way around, where you give Deku silly updates about your life and he checks them like it’s what's pumping air in his lungs. What you ate and where, your commute to campus, the cat you saw on the street and thought about bringing home. He thinks you’ve caught onto the fact he doesn’t like talking too much about his job. He doesn’t mind it, hearing about things like that. It’s nice that he can reach you. That he doesn’t have to think twice about it and can message you silly little things.

You wonder if it bothers him but he always replies so enthusiastically - prompts the conversation further so he can keep it going. He fills you in on the details of his life much more sparsely, always ends his texts with a sweet little emoji and a polite “thanks for asking ☺” that sends you reeling. He’s cute. It’s a weird way to describe him but that's how you feel. He texts you dawn till dusk, each night sending a short text about everything he did that day. You start to get accustomed to his morning messages and late night texts. It’s the same for him, that soft feeling when he sees your messages.

Sunday shows up on Deku’s door much more quickly than he’s ready for. It’s the first time you’re spending official time together, and he tosses and turns the night before all night. He spends it staring at the ceiling, heart in his stomach - covering his face with his hands and rolling around his sheets. He’s inconsolable until exhaustion takes him out.

He wakes early to work-out and shower - going through his full and most thorough routine. He scrubs his whole body spotless, washes his hair with his expensive co-wash conditioner, and comes out soaking wet. He does the whole nine-yards, a nice and clean lotion, deodorant, his curl cream that he spends a whole scrunching until all the moisture is soaked in. He examines his whole body in the mirror with too much scrutiny before exiting.

He eats breakfast and tries to calm himself down all morning but to no avail, there’s no way to get around the fact he’s incredibly nervous. And now, he’s staring at his closet with regret because of how.. sparse it is. He’s never taken time to purchase anything.. nice unless it’s for a hero gala. His closet is split evenly between formal wear and athleisure but nothing casual really.

He sighs a little as he digs through the back of his closet. He manages to find an old pair of jeans - a light-washed pair that he fits a little tightly over his figure. He probably shouldn’t dress too nice, he doesn’t wanna look like a try-hard. But he also wants you to know he cares about being presentable.

He ends up with a white v-neck and a grey windbreaker overtop, snatching a headband to secure his hair so it stays out of his face. He wears a different pair of shoes, grey to match his jacket. He feels like he looks stupid, really. He takes the jacket on and off, switches shirts, but keeps the jeans and always ends up with the same outfit. He decides he’s being stupid about it at the very end, and leaves.

It’d be a lie to say that Deku hadn’t thought about today at all.

He has thought about it. Just a little. When he packs up to leave his house for the day, he grabs his bag of groceries for curry-making, his facemask and a hat, his water bottle and his keys. Including a set of keys for a brand new car, specially purchased by his assistant after he very awkwardly asked him about cars and how to go about buying one.

Deku has no experience with car stuff, and it was too embarrassing to ask Kacchan. And his assistant wouldn’t ask any questions about why his boss, who’d been commuting for almost 4 years, decided to buy a car. He also wouldn’t question why he wanted one that made him seem.. put together. And why he didn’t put a limit on the spending.

If Deku is anything these days, it’s well off. A car is only a mild dent in his expenses but the only thing he spends money on is his mom and sometimes some hero merch that goes on sale. If he finds a surplus, he writes off some donations and calls it a day.

He has to admit, it’s a bit much. Maybe more than a bit and it’s been a while since he’s driven. He normally ends up being designated driver when he goes out with his friends, and one too many times - he’s dragged out drunk employees from bars when they’ve had a little too much during company dinners.

He leaves the house in something of a hurry. It’s cloudy above, all grey and dreary. Clouds stick to each other in big clumps as he walks into his garage. Over the years, it’s just been a collection of old knick-knacks and tools. It’s the first time he’s used it for its purpose.

He slides in the front seat and turns the ignition, listening to the revv. He does a little laugh at how truly ridiculous it is - the briefest moment of self-awareness passing by in a flash. He uses his phone to open his garage door and close it before backing out and heading down the road.

__

Your apartment complex is exactly two blocks from the convenience store, like you’d promise. He parks on the side of the road, punching in his time on the parking meter before grabbing his things from the front seat. He goes through everything, including a small welcoming gift from his mom in the form of some pickled radish.

He jogs to your complex and heads into the lobby - finding the machine and pressing the little button on the door. He leans forward, clearing his throat.

“Hey, I’m here,”

A beat passes before he hears your reply.

“I’ll let you up now,”

There’s a loud buzz and unlocking sound. Deku steps inside and is greeted with an elevator. Third floor, 4th door on the right. He repeats it to himself as he steps onto the elevator, a soft yellow light illuminating him as he feels his weight press down. He presses number three and waits - listening to elevator music for what feels like ages. It stops at the second floor and an old lady enters. He bows immediately, out of habit. She’s small and frail, carrying just one bag in her hands.

“Oh.. my. What a handsome young man,” ― she comments, give him a once over ― “You must be visiting on the third floor,”

His eyes go wide.

“Oh! Thank you and yes, I’m here to see a.. friend,” he trails off. She gives him a warm smile, laughing.

“A friend, is it? Well. Tell her I say hello. All that young lady does is go to work and go to school. It’s nice to see her.. friend visiting her,”

He blushes a little at the implication. His skin grows a little hot as she laughs again.

“Ah.. yes ma’am,”

By the time the conversation is over, the elevator doors open to the third floor. Apartment doors lined up stretch across the way, and he turns around to give the old lady another bow. She gives him a wave before the doors close again and with that she’s gone. He’s still a little flustered by the interaction so he gathers himself before finding your door. Fourth door down, he walks towards it.

He stares at the wood, painted a dark blue with a little decoration on it. Another lungful of air and with a shaking hand, he gives three meek knocks. He waits a moment, and hears some rustling on the other side and in another few, it swings open.

When he finds you in the doorway, he feels his lungs go short of air. It almost feels like something out of a movie. You’re wearing an apron and casual clothes - and he realizes this is the first time he’s ever seen all of you out of uniform. A cotton t-shirt and half-way nice sweatpants on your hips - you greet him a little out of breath. A sheen of sweat, your chest heaving, you still smile when you see him.

“Hey, sorry,” ― you wheeze, brushing something out of your eyes ― “Was trying to get my fitted sheet on before you came in. It didn’t agree with me,”

There is something about seeing you that makes Deku’s heart feel like it’s taking a seat at the dinner table. He really can’t describe it, doesn’t know how to word it poetically or pace it in a way that makes sense. He’s always been good at controlling himself. He’s seldom anything but idle. His feelings are absorptions, the world around him shapes the clay of his very nature. Without rhyme or reason or anything in between - he’s always thought to trust it. To let it happen. To let things happen to him, just so it doesn’t happen to anyone else.

His everything can be traced back to a sense of justice ingrained in him so deeply, there is no way to know himself without it. His feelings aren’t his, he knows this. He is simply an amalgam - the corkboard in which the hero world pins their travesties on. In his whole life, all the years he’s been alive, he’s known this much about himself. From the inside out and back again, he knows he is wholly a reflection. His sense of self is fragile at best.

Seeing you ignites in him the strangest feelings. His feelings - so uniquely his that he doesn’t even know how to feel them. How to navigate these emotions that fester in his heart, and how just your presence has this guiding hand. How his heart takes a seat at the dinner table, the kind of meal where there is only a single light and another person. In a moment so brief, he zones out and looks at you and there is this ache. A reminder that he is so real and so human it rubs him raw. He stares at you dazed and you smile, unknowingly, and chat to him about everything you like.

How strange is love but a reminder that you exist.

“I’m rambling aren’t I?” ― you shake your head a little, before stepping aside ― “Welcome to my humble abode! I bought some slippers this weekend that should fit you,”

He smiles at you, and it’s warm and inviting.

“Yeah.. thanks,”

He takes his shoes off and puts them on the rack before slipping his feet into the house slippers you’ve set out. They’re a bright green, covered in little frogs. He laughs a little at them, as you step beside him. He gives it a look around - the place looks just like you. It’s well-lived in, like a home and not just a place to live in. There’s random knick-knacks everywhere, a consistent color scheme, and other little decorations. A stack of books in one place, an open card-game.

“You might wanna take your jacket off,” ― you say amused, watching as he slides it over his shoulders ― “Today you’re my student,”

He laughs at that and takes his jacket off, where you let it rest on the arm of one couch. He picks up the bags you’d asked him for.

“My mom told me I should bring something so she packed up some pickled radish for you,” ― he says sheepishly, handing you the bag ― “She was excited to hear that I was spending my weekend with someone who isn’t her,”

You grab the bag and peer inside, a jar of pickled radishes - purple in hue, waiting for you. You look between it and him, smiling a little.

“You.. told your mom you were coming to see me?”

He realizes a moment too late what it sounds like. His green eyes go wide as he stutters over his next sentence.

“I tell my mom everything,”

You snort a laugh at him, grabbing the rest of his bags. He gives you a little pout, nose wrinkling in embarrassment.

“Well.. tell your mom I said thank you. Maybe take her some curry home and show off your new skills,” ― you tease, easy and effortless, but you’re staring at him a little longer than you need too ― “I appreciate it,”

He gives you a lopsided smile.

“C’mere, the kitchens this way. I’m gonna worry you’re not gonna fit,” you confess. He has to duck underneath, just a little bit - and he doesn’t have to do much to touch the ceiling. He fits just fine, much to your relief. He looks in your kitchen, quaint. There’s a window above the sink filled with fresh herbs in a nice little planter with a light above. A cat timer.

“How skilled are you at cooking, would you say? Like.. none at all? Or just not very much?”

He scratches the back of his neck, trying to remember the last time he made something.

“Uhm.. we made curry during a training camp in highschool, but I think that’s the last time,”

You give wide eyes before shaking your head.

“You’re hopeless.. but that’s why I’m here,”

He watches as you roll your sleeves up as if you’re getting into gear. He’s glad he wore short sleeves.

“Wash your hands first,” you tell him. He immediately steps the sink and washes his hands as he hears some clatter in the background. You’re looking through your oven. He watches as you grab a cutting board and a small knife.

“All clean?”

He nods. You smile at him.

“I got everything ready before you got here because I had.. a feeling you would be very clumsy. But I will whip you into shape,” you scold, stern. He blushes a little.

“Yes ma’am,”

You giggle a little bit. On the kitchen island is a bunch of ingredients lined up on the table.

“We’re gonna make Japanese curry - it’s a little sweeter and milder than Thai or Indian kinds. It’s a lot easier since the roux is premade. And it’ll last you some days in the fridge. Today we’ll make it with chicken since I assume you need protein,” ― you explain to him pointedly. When you look over at him, he looks so concentrated, you almost laugh ― “We’ll cut the vegetables first, and then the meat. After everything is prepped, we’ll work on the sauce and cook everything. Sound doable?”

“I’ll try my best,”

You frown at him.

“Come on Mr. Deku, where’s the confidence?”

He laughs aloud when you call him that, straightening up a little bit. He gives you a one hand salute and you fall out. It’s so warm.. so welcoming.

“We’re not gonna do anything really complicated because it’s your first time. I’ll cut an onion and then you’ll do the next one. If you do a good job.. I’ll give you a pack of electrolyte gels,” you grin.

“Wow.. what a prize. Sure wouldn’t wanna miss on that,”

“Exactly,” ― you take an onion and steady it on the cutting board ― “Now watch me okay? First you wanna cut it half and place the flat edge down on the board,”

He follows along, making mental notes in his head.

“Now you see this part? This is the root end. We’re gonna do a large dice, so make sure you don’t cut it off. We can cut off this paper bit at the end though.. then we’re just gonna go through the middle. See that?”

Another nod, he watches as the knife slices through the middle part. You don’t cut the ends.

“Now it’s in half, so you’re gonna cut in the middle of those. 3 cuts vertically, 3 horizontally. You got it?”

“I.. think so. It doesn’t look too bad so far,”

“Good. I’m gonna show you the speed I normally do this at but you can go slow. We have all day,”

Warmth spreads through his whole body at the words “We have all day,” so soothing to his heart. His stomach fills with butterflies, loud and desperate but he nods.

“Yeah.. right,”

You show him this time, the normal speed at which you cut through your vegetables. His eyes go wide at the speedy sound of the cutting board. He wants to tell you to be careful but he doesn’t think he has the right.

“Okay. I’m gonna put these in the bowl over here and now it’s your turn,”

You switch sides, carefully moving the first half of the onion into a small bowl before placing the next one. For a man.. a hero, so tall and powerful - he looks unusually nervous. He goes for the knife, but picks it up so unsafely, you gasp aloud.

“Woah there.. getting a little eager, are we?”

He puts the knife down like it’s evil and steps away, and you breathe a laugh through your nose.

“Here.. hold your hand out,”

He does and you carefully take the knife and place it in his palms. You use your hand to curl his fingers around him, then gently guide his hands. He stutters a little and grips the butt of the knife more tight than he needs.

“Look.. see. You have to handle it like this so you don’t cut yourself. Go slowly,”

“Oh.. that feels a lot better,”

You laugh again and he gets to cutting.

He goes slow.. very slow. It feels awkward at first but he gets through it. He manages to cut the first onion into all of it’s pieces with all of his fingers together. It takes at least 10 minutes, yes - but your cheerleading makes him feel good about it.

You hold your hand to high-five him when it’s all over and he laughs and high-fives you back. He’s so pretty when he laughs, all crinkled eyes and summery - you stumble when you hear him, flushing.

“Onto the next,”

You guide him through how to cut potatoes, then carrots. After your demonstrations on the cutting board, Deku takes at least double the time you do to cut each thing. But you cheer him on each time, floating around him and never leaving him too long to his own devices. You show him how to cut everything, even garlic (which he likes because he just has to smash at it to get it small) and eventually all the veggies are chopped.

You don’t have him touch the chicken, say it’s probably too much for the first time - but you demonstrate it. He takes note of every step, hearing words he’s never heard in his entire life. You have to let the fond build, the veggies sweat, and all sorts of other things. He learns you normally don’t measure, so every measurement out of your mouth is more a guess than anything. You promise to write down a recipe for him, anyways.

It starts smelling good after you add the onions - like his mothers kitchen. He hasn’t had a proper homemade meal in a week and his stomach growls with intensity. He watches as you build a sauce out of thin air. A curry roux cube, 4 cups of water, some sugar, some soy-sauce and ketchup. It fascinated him.. seemingly random things all coming together and making something so familiar. It looks good. He feels good that he helped even a little.

It’s taken a while, maybe 2 hours and some change, though he’s sure if he did it alone - it’d be even longer. For you, it’s probably the longest it’s ever taken, but if that’s the case, it doesn’t show on your face.

In the last leg of the curry making, you direct him to wear all the cutlery in your little apartment.

“There’s some beer in the fridge too, if you want. Other stuff too, but I thought a drink would be good for relaxing,”

“A beer would be great. Do you want one too?”

“Hm.. yeah, actually. That’d be awesome,, thank you Midoriya,”

He waves of your thank you and goes off to rummage your kitchen. He knows how to set a table at least. He grabs the beers first, placing them on coasters, before going to get the rest. Two plates and two spoons, and a bowl to keep some sides in. He sets everything up all nice, clearing the space out.

He hears the stove click off, getting out of your way as you put on some oven mitts. You take a deep breath as you lift, the savory smell filling the small kitchen.

“Woo, it’s hot,” ― you huff, setting it down on a mat on the counter ― “It’s still burbling so I’ll give it a second before I serve it,”

Next, you bring the white rice that's been sitting on the counter since before he got here, on warm for who knows how long. You pick it up out of the rice cooker and set it next to the curry, hurrying to get another bowl. You portion out some pickled radishes in the smaller bowl. and then spoon rice into the bigger one. You put one portion on Dekus and one on yours.

“Don’t be shy about getting more,”

You pour it out evenly, a stream of hot curry surrounding pristine white rice. It looks and smells good, unexpectedly. He’s so surprised it’s not a disaster, he laughs as he watches you do it. Piece of chicken thigh, potatoes, and onions float in the sauce and he can barely stop himself from eating.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had something someone else made,”

“Aw c’mon, you made this!”

He gives you a look and you laugh as you spoon yourself a portion.

“Okay.. we made it. But you helped! And you learned a lot, right?”

He chuckles, shaking his head.

“I definitely learned a lot but you’re the teacher,” ― he leans forward, palm on his cheek as he stares at you. Straight out of a daydream, painfully handsome ― “How’d I do teach?”

You mimic him teasingly, legs crossed, tapping your foot in the air.

“Hm.. I’d give you a solid 8/10 for your first time. No cuts, and your chopping was actually pretty good,”

He brightens at the praise.

“Really? Good enough for electrolyte gel packs?”

You laugh so hard you bend over yourself.

“Yeah.. yeah definitely.”

“Nice job, Midoriya.”

“All thanks to my teacher, super wise.”

You bow your head a little and he claps for you.

Wordlessly, he cracks both of your bottles open with seamless strength, returning them to their spot on the table.

“It should be cool enough to eat now,”

He bows his head and so do you.

“Itadakimasu,”

“Itadakimasu,”

___

He feels warm.

After your meal in the afternoon, you and Deku continue to drink into the late night. He makes sure to watch himself - knowing he’ll have to drive himself home. You drink just a little more, not enough that you’re a mess. But your defences are lowered, and you’re sleepy. Maybe even a little giggly too. Beer bottle sit on the coffee table that separates the two of you

You sit adjacent to each other. He has his legs crossed, table pushed back so he can get all of him comfortably between the couch and table. You have your knees up, chin resting against one of them as your arms wrap around your legs. You’re all smiles, all warmth.

“I had fun today,” you muse, voice softer than a whisper. He glances at you, nodding.

“Me too,” ― he admits, voice barely above a whisper ― “It’s been a long time since I’ve spent time without someone.”

“Aw, what, your mom doesn’t count?”

He laughs a little.

“Just teasin’. Me too.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. It’s just work, then school, then work. All on a loop. I don’t get much time off.”

“...Is there a particular reason for it?”

“Tryna get to know me, Midoriya?” you tease. He chuckles.

“Caught red-handed.”

It makes your heart flutter. To hear him tell him to your face that he’s interested in you. You rub your feet together nervously.

“I don’t see a lot of my parents. I’ve always taken care of things on my own. It’s hard, but..” ― you confess to him voice, weary, and worn out ― “‘s not all bad. Stressful. It gets lonely, but I think it’ll be okay in the end”

“What about you, Pro-Hero Deku?,”

He laughs uncomfortably, a tight lipped smile on his mouth.

“What about me?”

“D’you get lonely a lot..?”

His gut reaction is almost violent, a spear through his chest. The blood is already in his mouth, the bitterness of heroism deep in his gut. He shakes his head at the panic and how it stirs inside of him.

“No.. I.. well -.”

“You must, right?” ― you let out a soft yawn, face so squished it’s hard to hear you talk. You struggle to get the words out ― “You’re the number one hero, All Might successor. Must be busy, right?”

“You should sleep soon,” ― his voice is strained.. it aches in his throat. He can’t tell you to stop, but he can’t bear to listen either so he gets ready to appease you ― “You’ve had a lot to drink,”

“I’m sober, Midoriya. Mostly, anyway. Just sleepy.. I’m just sayin.”

“I notice it in you sometimes,” ― you hum, lifting your head to look at him ― “You always hesitate to say things. But.. ‘sokay to admit things are hard. Life is hard for your average schmuck like me.”

He laughs a little.

“You’re not a schmuck.”

“Maybe not but I’m no hero, either. It’s hard for me and I bet it’s hard for you too. That’s okay, you know? You’re still.. still a person. And to me, you’re just Midoriya. A guy with a hard job. And cool scars.”

He stares down at the beer bottle he’s been nursing in his lap for god knows how long and feels something shift inside of him. It’s tectonic, the way his whole body shifts its weight. A steady build, like a geyser - everything coming to a head inside of him. It’s so heavy, this burden that makes his shoulders slump. He really doesn’t mean to get choked up like this. He’ll blame the alcohol but there’s more to it than that. Much more about why he’s splitting apart at the seams.

It must be that you are nothing like anyone he knows. And it breaks him, tears him apart like how people crack eggs - he feels soft and yellow like a yolk, any moment and he’ll break. He doesn’t know how it happens, but he cries. Quiet and steady at first but slowly he can’t keep holding it. It’s a crescendo, a cacophony of all of his misery. He cries then sobs. So loudly it’s almost violent. It cracks and thunders, and suddenly he’s an open wound on your living room floor. He finds himself sobbing so pathetically he doesn’t know what to do. The backs of his palms are rubbing his eyes and in between each choked breath, he’s trying to tell you he’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine.

But suddenly, your body is pressed around him. You’ve slotted yourself next to him on your knees and you pull his whole body onto you. The weight of his torso ends up in your arms. You hold him and you run your hands over your back and he cries and it’s so ugly. It’s ugly and loud.

He’s so raw from emotions and all he can hear is you and your voice, shushing him quietly. He clings to you for life. It’s so unusual for him.. to cry like this. Over something like this. Maybe because it’s the first time in four years he’s admitted to himself something so small.

It’s so hard. God.. it’s all so hard.

He sobs into your neck, uncontrollable and you don’t say a word. You melt your body into his.

Before he knows it, your body is shaking too. You’re crying and clinging to each other and everything in the world is blind with your tears. You hold each other desperately, your loneliness stuck together like it can’t be pulled apart.

On the floor of your living room, the rain outside pours in heavy sheets. And Izuku Midoriya cries into your shoulder, tipsy and tender from the force of your words. His stomach is tied and eventually he can’t help but cling to you. He wants to hold you in his arms but he doesn’t know how to ask. How does he approach you? Why can't he take the hand you’ve put out for him?

“Midoriya,” ― you whisper hoarsely, stroking his hair ― “You can trust me.”

He sobs a little harder at that. You almost don’t hear him at first, the way his voice falls apart as you listen to it.

“I’m sorry for crying.”

You can’t help but laugh. You keep holding him, just a little tighter.

“It’s okay,” you hum “It’s gonna be okay,”

He believes you when you say it. He believes you when you hold him. He believes you when you say he can trust you, and with every part of him - he wants to love you. He wants to give it all back tenfold. This selfish feeling that festers in the cracks of his heart, this yearning - he doesn’t have any choice but to call it love.

If he were more sober, and less tired - he’d probably be losing his mind at the thought. To call something love, to call this love. It makes him feel like he’s losing his mind but right now all he can focus on is you and the way your heart rests. He’s thinking of your hands and how gentle they feel on his skin and how he’s holding you. How relieving it is to hold someone.

“It’s hard sometimes,” ― he confesses, all jagged edges ― “I don’t regret it.. not ever. But it’s hard sometimes.”

You run your fingers through his curls just a little, soft and gentle.

“Yeah.. I bet it is.”

___

Izuku Midoriya believes firmly in one thing.

He believes love, above all else, must be a choice.

At the very least, you must have some choice in love. If you intend to love someone, or love anything for a long time - you have to choose it everytime. He thinks loving people is like that. A series of decisions we make in order to show or prove it. We choose love. It finds us and then we get to choose how we harbor it. He thinks he’s something of a hopeless idealist, in every aspect of his life. About everything in the world, he wants to do it in the most poetic way. He wants his whole life to be shrouded in the feeling that he’s doing something beautiful.

He could call justice something of a first love. In that way he does everything for it. That he chooses to fight for it, to contribute to it everyday he’s alive.

He thinks love itself is a choice but he thinks falling in love is the only decision in your life you have no control over. He thinks loving you, in particular, is something that happened to him rather than something he looked for. Falling for you the first time he saw you, he had no part in it.

But hopelessly and endlessly searching for you - just maybe that had something to do with him.

After the night in your apartment, you make him comfortable and send him home with some curry and warm regards. Of all the nights he’d gone home feeling lonely, that night had been the hardest. There was this desire out of his control that he’d been ignoring for so long but it all came to a tide that night. The longing was borderline unbearable and since then, he’s had to take a long hard look at himself and at this.. all of this.

Izuku Midoriya can admit to himself after all of this that he’s a little helplessly in love with you. He hasn’t stopped seeing you, either. On Sundays, every other Sunday, he drops by your place for little cooking lessons. He misses when he was ignoring it and he could just enjoy your company but now your every movement has something feeling hot under his skin. He finds himself daydreaming about you on the job and his heart feels like it’s gonna burst out of his chest.

But, this is the first time he’s ever been..in love. It’s the first time he’s ever felt something so strongly and it’s more terrifying than it is romantic. He feels like he’s been blindsided by something and he stays up into the late hours of the night, counting off all the reasons it won’t work out.

It’s what he’s best at, thinking of every possible outcome. You could always find someone who could be with you more and move on, and maybe you’re not even interested in Deku. It’s always possible you just think you are. He thinks a lot of things are possible and he focuses on the worst case scenario each time. It’s easier not to set up expectations that way. If anything happens, he’ll be ready for it.

But with you, the worst case scenario is that he confesses and you reject him - and you disappear out of his life. He knows rationally that it’s unlikely, but he thinks about it and something in him breaks profoundly. There’s another situation where you remain friends but you fall for someone else and it makes him almost sick.

All of it is gut-wrenching. For so long, he’s had any number of defenses up. A busy schedule, the burden of work, short answers and the redirection of those prying questions - he’s gotten so good at making sure no one gets past them. It’s rare that anyone has even noticed. His heart is so many layers deep. Only a few people know, namely Kacchan and his mom and All Might.

And then there’s you, with soft hands, tearing through all the ground and rooting him up from Earth. You who digs his heart from the ground and holds it up to the warmth of your love.

It burns so hot he feels like he can’t get close to it. When he thinks of you, he thinks of all of his short-comings. He thinks of all the things he can’t be for you.

But he can’t get himself to let go either, and when your hands reach into his ribs and take his heart, he doesn’t shake you off to stop it. He lets it happen, lets you consume his every breath. All over his body are the sensations of you and your touches - ghostly in his memory.

Izuku Midoriya thinks love is a choice and he knows he can’t take back the one to love you.

He just.. doesn’t know what to do with all of it.

___

The day is so long it bleeds.

That’s the best way he knows how to describe it, really. It’s longer than ever because daylights all soaked up before 8pm, and it’s so dark it webs across the city without patience. After a day like today, it’s all he can see for miles. Darkness for miles and miles - the path of it sunken and terrible.

He’s had a lot of days like this in his life, as a hero - there are always lives you can’t save. People who don’t make it out of the disaster, people you miss, people who get trapped. Dekus sees things so gruesome it makes his skin crawl, seeping into him while he’s awake. He has nightmares and he takes medication to manage all of it. Goes to therapy when he can. No amount of conversation could really make it go away but it’s nice to tell someone his feelings.

Deku still doesn’t know how to deal with something so inevitable such as loss. As a hero it’s never easy.

After months of stagnation in the villain case, the one that he had to solve with Kacchan, there was finally word of activity. Normally in situations like that - groups will simply disband or dissolve because of the lack of members and it goes cold before anything else can happen. It’s rare that anything ever comes out of it later, it just sort of disappears after the first big arrest.

He figures that would be the case today too. After getting on his shift, about an hour into it, he gets pings from every direction. A villain attacks on the east side, only a few blocks from his route. It’s an emergency, CODE E - meaning it was a big mass of destruction and that other heroes were on the way.

He was on it before he could think twice, feet moving faster than his head as he activates a steady 8% for speed, jumping over buildings and skipping traffic until he ends up on the overhead of the scene. From the view above he can practically taste the chaos. It’s a big build-up of cop-cars around the scene. There’s people everywhere, first responders, evacuating all nearby residents. There’s already been some explosions and destruction but no serious injuries.

When he finally gets down, he meets with the police chief, Kacchan, and Todoroki - all of them breaking down the situation carefully to him. He comes to learn that the leader of the organization is holed up in one of those buildings and that he’s hysterical.

Human beings are incredibly fragile. They crack and shatter and splinter like glass under the pressure of life. Every person in the world is capable of bad things. The unimaginable becomes possible when you remember how briefly we bask in goodness. It’s not that humanity is evil but it’s fragile.

He learns about the boy inside - he’s young, just 18. He’s a highschool student. He learns about his whole life, abusive family and suffering. His list of traumas make his gut wrench just to listen too and Kacchan has that solemn look in his eyes that he only gets when he knows things will end badly. He details to Deku all of his miseries and Deku listens like his heart is made of lead.

“So where are we?”

Kacchan tells Deku that he’s inconsolable and his name is Yamato and doesn’t say a word more. Deku gives him that pleading look that he always has when it gets to be like this, but Todoroki is quick to put a hand on his shoulder and shake his head. It’s not in them to give up on anyone, hero or villain - so it makes his stomach clench.

Deku gets told to help the other heroes clear the area out and take care of civilians and with that he’s sent away. It tears him apart, the knowing and the dread. The dread of it all is so, so heavy.

At 7pm, the sun is set completely, and he gets word that he’s dead. It’s over, just like that. In a moment another person - gone , and his name was Yamato and he was 18. Just like that. Human life is so fragile. We only live briefly and we do it so delicately it’s impossible to know the outcome. Deku thinks of all the things he could’ve been and he finds himself on a bench in front of his agency, crying his eyes out for a kid he doesn’t know.

Loss is always a part of the job. There will always be someone, something that you can’t change. He knows it’s important to remember the good things but today, the world is dark at 7pm and Deku is wiping his tears with the back of his gloved hands. He’s sad about all of it. He’s sad he couldn’t change anything. The helpless feeling about this job and the loneliness. It will never be enough no matter how much he fights. There will always be a life he can’t save.

He’s told to go home that day, a little earlier than normal. It’s ironic, on a day he knows you don’t have work. After everything happens, he takes their advice and goes back to his agency. All he hears when he’s there is condolences. They know how it is.. how he is on days like today.

The day is so long it bleeds. When darkness hits, it still feels like time is stuck in the same place. It dries and scabs and itches.

He’s planning on going home today and resting. The most you know is that he has a day off, he got sent home earlier because of a case but he hasn’t told you the details.

He gets a text from you not long after he tells you.

from 7/11 girl ; oh! do you wanna come over for dinner then?

He stares at the message for a long while. It’s a moment in which his body moves before he can think

to 7/11 girl ; i’d love too.

__

He ends up at your doorstep with all of his belongings still in his arms.

Shifting his weight uncomfortably from one leg to the other, a shaky breath enters his lungs. His heart rate is rapid and the feeling of regret is tying his hands to his sides, finding it impossible to reach his hand up and knock. His head is going a million miles an hour, racing with the thoughts of remorse. Reprimanding himself for being selfish, trying to see you in this state. He should just go home and call it a night, there’s still time for that.

Another text pings his phone, startling him out of his thoughts.

from 7/11 girl ; i’m glad you’re coming over. i was getting a little lonely today.

He takes a deep breath, just trying to gather himself, and raises his trembling hand to knock on the door. He winces at the meekness of the sound, unconfident. Each second that passes by is another of him contemplating leaving. He could leave it all here, he could leave, he could leave, he could leave.

The door swings open, and there you are in a big comfortable hoodie and shorts that hit your knee and mismatched socks. Deku stares at you with wide emerald eyes and you look back at him, smiling with your teeth.

He can’t leave.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him. He trembles like a telephone wire in a storm, uncentered and shaking desperately. You catch it, that despair in his eyes before he can blink it away and it has you stopping dead in your tracks. All of his things are still in his arms and he’s covered in grime. His hand quivers as it clutches his bags to his body. He racks his eyes over you, no words coming. Just a gaping mouth, gasping like a fish out of water, struggling to speak,

“Midoriya,” ― you press forward, brows furrowed together ― “Are you okay?”

Is he okay? No, not particularly. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again and he stares at you for a long while. Slowly at the seams is where it always starts, falling into nothingness.

Love is an abyss, he thinks to himself. That must be where the phrase falling in love comes from. He is on the cliff as he looks at you, rock crumbling and breaking beneath his feet the longer he stands in your doorway. The uncertainty that comes from that darkness, looming and inviting. It calls to him with the voice loud enough to sweep nations to dust. He sees you, and you look like a clump of stars - burning hotly in the stark obsidian night. You are the silver lining, the muse, the answer. To Izuku Midoriya, you are everything and some change. You’re the girl he meets at 7/11, the one who puts muscle patches on his back, and teaches him to cook and makes him feel like he exists. So alive it almost makes him sick. He is nauseous at the way love has him acting.

There is a brief moment before you jump into open waters, or darkness, or anything that requires you to fall with no promise of land - that your head is completely clear. Only after you’ve leaped, the action set in motion, do you know what the right choice was.

Deku understands it briefly, the cost of his actions. The consequence of choosing love, taking it - the hand held out. He understands, for just one moment, that love is one step in the door. That love is right there but he has to reach for it, to feel it. He won’t know unless he jumps.

“Midoriya..?”

He reaches for you. He steps one foot in the door and drops his bags to the side of him and he shuts the door and he reaches for love.. for you. Just this one time.

His arms wrap around your shoulders like vines and he clings to you for dear life. His face is buried in the nape of your neck and his body feels like it’s submerging in the darkness. He feels like he’s falling, so far he can’t see what was before this. He holds you tight and your hands snake around his waist.

“Midoriya,”

“Izuku” he corrects hoarsely.

“Izuku..”

__

You decide that the first thing he should do is bathe.

“You can take a shower in my..”

His eyes are round and worrisome. Gruesomely exhausted. You don’t think you could tell him to be in there alone in good conscience - no matter how willingly he would accept. He hasn’t stopped touching you in some way, something silently inside of him aching to hold you. You can feel all the places he holds back, a violent force. With Midoriya.. with Izuku - you find sometimes you have to force yourself inside of his boundaries.

He’s holding your hand and staring at it, dark rounds underneath his lower lash line. You reach your hand out a little further as he sits, and press your palm against his cheek. Your thumb brushes underneath his eyes and he smiles a little.

“We can take a bath together,”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,”

“You won’t,”

It takes a little convincing and you worry he’s too tender for it but he just nods and closes his eyes. Leaning into your touch, he moves his mouth to kiss your wrist and then looks at you as you flush. Still uncomfortable with this touch - the intimacy of his hold has your breath shaking in your lungs.

“C’mon with your clothes. My bathroom is pretty big so you should fit in it just fine but it might be a bit tight,”

He nods, absent and soft. You watch as he takes his things from his bag and stands - eyes immediately searching for you like a small animal. He takes your hands in his but nudges you to guide him and gives you a soft smile as you flush. Just moments ago he was clinging to you but it feels different somehow.

You lead him to your bathroom and it’s a nice size. It’s a little bit wider, with a small closet and a tub that he thinks you could both fit in. There’s a big, wide mirror on the wall and on the counter there’s skincare and makeup. He smiles at it, only frowning when you let go of his hand. He watches as you run the bathwater hot and go into your closet for towels and soaps of all kinds. He stands awkwardly, his own nerves just starting to catch up to him. It’s mostly overshadowed with desire.. with yearning that stretches across the sun at least 3 times.

You’re still turned around as you speak.

“You should.. uhm.. undress,” you say, stiff as a board. His eyes go wide and he flushes a bit.

“Oh! Uhm.. yeah, right,” ― he coughs, heart in his throat ― “Are you…?”

You nod, meek.

“Yeah..”

He can’t mask his shock, nor the immediate twitch in his jeans that he spends a few minutes managing before carefully undressing. His shirt first comes off, slides over his shoulder blades and comes completely off.

After that, it’s his pants and socks, until he’s left with nothing but boxers hanging on his hips. He hesitates a little to take them off, so he does it with a deep breath. He’s self-conscious of it, his physique so bare. He doesn’t remember the last time anyones seen him completely naked and it makes his heart stammer uncomfortably.

You turn to him, shyly grazing over at him before closing your own eyes and taking your clothes off. Deku watches you with a bated breath, mouth catch flies as you slide your hoodie off to reveal nothing underneath - same as your basketball shorts. They simply fall to the floor and you’re naked. Your whole body is under his eyes with scrutiny and you find yourself covering your body with your hands almost inadvertently.

It comes out as a clumsy and confused gasp - with more vigor than he means.

“You’re beautiful,” and you can tell he means it with the way he blinks and just looks, over again. You flush a little, wanting the Earth to swallow you up. But he’s so.. gentle. So easy.

“...You should get in the water,” ― you tell him, reaching for something ― “I picked a bathbomb out so..”

He stops, lips turned in the corner before nodding. The water is hot and full and Deku steps inside of it, bending down and securing himself to the wall with the showerhead and faucet. The water relaxes the tenseness out of his muscles almost immediately, eyes going heavy. He looks at you, and watches you prepare yourself. You drop your hands and steel your nerves, softly walking towards him.

“D’you want me to sit on the other side…?”

He shakes his head, feeling hesitant.

“No uhm.. if it’s okay. I thought you could sit.. y’know. So I can.. hold you,” he explains sheepishly. You nod.

“That’s okay. I’d.. I think I’d like that,”

So you do. He widens the space between his legs as much as possible and lets you step inside the warm water. It sloshes around the tub, just a little as you adjust but eventually, you end up right between his legs bare naked. He has to shake any inappropriate thoughts away, especially with you so close in his reach. He watches idly as you reach over the side of the tub for a bath caddy you placed on the floor, just before getting in. You take the bath bomb from the middle compartment, and drag it to the water.

You hold it as it fizzes, still a big gap between you and him. He stares at you for a while. It’s tense, steamy air clouding your air and inhibitions.

“You can come closer,” he assures you, voice barely there. You freeze, looking over at him from one of your shoulders and you nod. Your lips are tucked between your teeth but you scoot back and you can feel.. him a little more. More than anything, you can feel the way his arms lock around your middle. Your back is on his chest, his arms circled tight around your waist. He tucks his chin over one of your shoulders and leans you back into him - just enough. Just so it’s comfortable and close.

It’s more intimate than everything you’ve ever felt in your life. The touch of his naked body, scarred skin - your hands are still holding the bath bomb. He presses his cheek to your shoulder as he watches. He’s amused by how the colors turn indefinitely. It smells a little bit like vanilla, a soft sugary scent permeating through the water. It’s green. He wonders if that was on purpose.

The weight of you rests in the crooks of him. You reside in this space in his arms, intimately. Your skin is soft to the touch and the water is warm - with two bodies it never gets too cold. For a while, all he does is hold you. He holds you indiscriminately, nothing extra to his actions. Not lust nor tragedy but just something pure and basic, the need to feel love through someone else's hands. Skin to skin, soft and gentle. It’s quiet and wordless.

With your body resting on his, you lift your head to look up at him briefly. You watch him with interest.

“What happened today, Izuku?”

He lets out a deep sigh, his voice scratchy and worn.

“On the job today.. one of the villains. Uhm.. he was really young. No one could talk him out of it no matter what he tried,” ― he tells you wearily ― “He.. didn’t make it. It just happened and then everything just kept happening. Loss and stuff like that is normal for hero work, but I can never.. get used to it.”

“...That’s good, that you can’t” you reply. He looks confused.

“That’s good..?”

“It means you have your humanity still intact inside of you. If you still get sad over people, no matter how mundane, then it means you still haven’t been.. desensitized from all of it. Means that you still care,” you explain to him gently “It was hard wasn’it?”

His voice trembles as he holds you closer, so impossibly close to him. The world is dark but you are like sunlight, brilliant. He mumbles something under his breath, rubbing his face into your skin like a cat might. You find it endearing.

“Yeah it was.. It was hard,” ― his voice is a breeze, feathery ― “It was a really hard day today and I was just gonna… I was gonna go home and then you texted me.”

You smile a little at that. It goes quiet again.

“Can I.. tell you something?”

“Yeah.. what is it?”

He shifts, and his voice becomes slow - it’s like the moment right before a fan's blades swirl. That moment where everything feels like it’s being set in motion, the drag of it. The inertia that builds - this is the very start of something so beautiful it spins.

“I love you,” ― he whispers, right into your shoulder blade with the weight of a million lives - and his too, right in the crook of your neck ― “I love you..”

The weight of the world, of heroism, or selfless acts and martyrdom - all of it falls onto the water below. He’s so tired, worn out. You think this is his way of asking you, if it’s alright to share this part of myself.

I’ve cut myself into so many parts, can you take this one? he says, without words but with hands Will you take the heart I’ve kept locked away and hold it? Will you take the only part of me that is still whole?

You find something deep inside of you. It’s unruliness. Everything in the world that is ugly has stopped, falling in front of your feet and the loneliness that itches inside of you suddenly melts. Like a popsicle in the summer sun, it fades away into pure sugar, sticky. What is love but hands that hold?

“I love you too, Izuku,”

His eyes shut and he breathes a breath, shaky and unsure. He squeezes you as if you might disappear, closer and closer.

“Can I ask.. is it okay if I ask why?”

“Why I love you?”

“What you see in me.. I just… I want to be sure,” ― he laughs a little soft, insecure ― “I guess it’s hard for me to understand it all the way. I only know all of this from my side.”

You wrap your hands, small over his. You hold and stretch it out, staring at his scarred palms under the sea green water. You sigh, and collapse a little as if you’re letting something out.

“I’ve always liked you,” ― you explain absently, squeezing his fingers and leaning into his touch, eyes closed ― “You’re awkward and sometimes shy, but you’re charming. You’re kind. It’s always been easy to like you.”

You take a deep breath, and your eyes open as you lean your head back, you look up at him and he looks like sunlight. A home in a person.

“But, then you would ask about me. You would worry for me and remember me. You listened to everything I had to say, even when you were somewhere busy and far away. I wondered if maybe you treated everyone like that,” you admit to him. He shakes his head and you laugh, reaching your hand back to hold his cheek.

“I didn’t know if I was special to you or if maybe.. I don’t know. Maybe you were like this to everyone, but you always made an effort for me - it made me feel special. When you tell me to do things and carve your time out for me,” ― you close your eyes again and they rest just against your cheek ― “The more I got to know you, the more I realized that you went out of your way for me. I like you, as is, but I liked feeling special to you. I wanted to be closer to you. I wanted to be the one who knows you best like how you know me”

“What about you, Izuku?” you ask, gently “What was it about me?”

He hums a little, shyly and awkwardly.

“It felt like you saw right through me, instead of looking at me. It was scary, but you just.. you make it so easy. It makes me feel selfish to pull anyone into my life, but the more I saw you, the more I didn’t feel like myself. It was scary.. and I didn’t understand,” ― he said with a laugh, eyes pressed completely shut ― “You were the first person… the first thing I’ve wanted so badly. It almost hurt,”

He realizes what he said and his eyes go wide and yours go wide too.

“You.. wanted me?”

The air becomes thick. Warm water suddenly feels hot and something feels awake inside of him the way you look up at him and he looks down at you. It makes him feel dizzy.

“I want you.. still. Want you, always,” with the double meaning sitting heavy on the end.

You flush, look away and stiffen.

“You weren’t uhm.. y’know.. down there. Didn’t think you were.. attracted to me,”

“I’ve been holding back. Didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable,” he strains, deep in his throat.

“You won’t,” you assure, shaky.

“Are you sure? We don’t have too… and I mean! I’ve never really - I don’t have much experience so I don’t wanna.. disappoint,”

“Izuku,”

He squeaks.

“Y-yes,”

Your lashes look heavy when you blink, lips tugged in your teeth.

“I’ve wanted you too.”

His eyes grow the size of the moon and you laugh, just a little.

“Y-you have?!”

Wordlessly, you take your hand, the one around your waist, and guide it so gently between your thighs. He feels frozen behind you as you maneuver his hand to be touching just against your sex. It’s burning, sticky on his fingers. He lets out gasp, soft under his breath as you guide him to touch you shivering. All the blood in his head rushes straight to his dick, and it grows so stiff it almost aches.

“Holy shit” he gasps and then groans, a little guttural “Holy.. holy shit,”

“Are you.. shit - I don’t have any. I don’t have much e-experience with this stuff,”

You hum at the way his hands keep moving anyways, still rubbing softly against your folds.

“S’okay. I’m a good teacher right?,” ― you say through a breathy sigh ― “You’re a quick learner, too,”

“Haah, holy shit. I really might die.”

You laugh at this fully, smiling at him.

“I want you really bad,” you say with a squirm “I’m on the pill, too.”

His eyes go wide and you laugh again, a little - feeling mischievous. Enjoying the effect you have on him, as he looks at you with eyes wide. Blown out with lust.

“Don’t regret it, okay?”

“I won’t. Not if it’s you.”

He takes a deep breath like he’s trying to wrap his head around all of it. It makes you laugh a little.

“We should get out of the bath first,” you say amused.

Before you can think about it, Deku is standing up. You scoot away, planning on doing the same. But after he stands up, he grabs a towel and immediately lifts you. He carries you on one arm like you weigh less than a paperclip and you yelp as he draws you to his chest.

“I-Izuku, let me down, I’m -,”

This time he laughs at you, almost knowing what you’re gonna say.

“Sorry, I’ll warn you next time but if you think you’re heavy, you’re sorely mistaken” ― he tells you with amusement ― “I did curls with double your weight by the time I was a first year.”

You squeak, feeling incredibly shy as you cling to him.

“My bedroom is on the left.. don’t drop me.”

He laughs at you again, a little more teasing.

“I won’t baby.”

__

He carries you all the way to your bedroom, where you find yourself more grateful than ever that you cleaned before he came. He drops you onto his bed with a soft thud, towel underneath you as your back lands on it. It’s different like this, the lighting a little dimmer but with him still so perfectly in view. Your eyes go wide at the sight of him as you scoot yourself towards the headboard.

He follows you in hot pursuit, body hovering over yours. Your head hits the pillow and Deku is right above you, with his hands on either side of your head. You smile at him and he looks down at you with big eyes.

“You’re so handsome.”

“I’m already hard.”

This makes you laugh and makes him grin, and you reach your arms out. Wrapping them around his neck - you drag him down to you. His mouth ghosts over yours, full and pretty. This is the first time you’ve really looked at him and god - he’s gorgeous to look at. His mouth is full and his eyes are so round - full of this pretty dark green that turns just seafoam in the middle. You feel like you’re going to drown inside of them, already yearning.

“You’re pretty,” he groans, and looks up at you through thick lashes “So pretty, think it every time I look at you.”

“Izuku, kiss me,” ― you demand.

He chuckles against your mouth, soft.

“Your wish is my command.”

He presses his mouth to yours, feather light at first. It’s been so long since you’ve kissed someone, you can’t help but feel it. Something about his lips makes you feel weak, the heat is of his body melting together with yours. It starts with one, soft and gentle - but it goes quickly to another one. Slowly he pulls away and then kisses you again, makes you open your mouth a little wider as he presses a little further. You can’t wrap your brain around how it’s making you feel. Your whole body feels like it’s sinking into your mattress, his mouth soft and full. His tongue invites itself inside, sliding against yours with the embers of flame.

What starts as kisses turn into hot pants, deep into his mouth. You can feel saliva run down your cheek as desire burns through, molten in your core. Your clit throbs with want, and you feel Deku before you see him. It makes you gasp - how big it feels, heavy too, against the meat of your thigh. You grind against it without meaning too. Deku moans in your mouth right as it happens

It feels like you're breathing each other's air - months and months of lust, pure and unadulterated, slipping out from beneath you. It’s overwhelming to be touching him, finally. Your fingers thread through his hairs and you tug, another pretty sound coming from him. . He’s so vocal with you, every moan or breath like fuel to the fire.

His hands find you soon after, exploratory - they start at your side, slowly moving up to cup your tits. His hands are firm, albeit shaky - and he touches them like he couldn’t wait a moment longer to get his hands on you. They’re so big. He dwarfs you right on top like this, and you fit perfectly in his cupped hands. His groping incessant, just like his kissing - invasive. You can feel how he can’t seem to get enough, each motion heavy with the want of many months prior.

Everything about how he touches you sends your whole body leaping, you feel weightless - the way your heart raises. It ends up all the way in your throat, in your mouth. It’s a stuttering and blind desire, all white. All you can think about is how much it aches. How much you want him, wanting and wanting and wanting.

“Izuku,” ― it comes out as a gasp when you pull away, a string of saliva as evidence when you reel back and look at him, his lidded eyes gazing down at you ― “Izuku..”

“What is it, baby? You okay?”

You squirm at the sound of his voice, gone deep like he’s been holding back all this time. It’s denser, coming from his stomach instead of his chest.

You kiss him again, and then pull back, brushing your nose to his.

“I like when you call me baby.”

“My baby,” ― he adds, kissing your nose, then the corners of your mouth ― “You’re so pretty. Don’t know anyone who looks as pretty as you.”

“Stop, I can’t fall for you anymore than I have.”

He giggles at that, kissing you again, and again and again until you’re laughing. A mess in his arms, he presses kisses all over your face.

“Just trying to make sure it stays that way.”

You frown a little.

“What happened to you being nervous?”

“I’m still nervous,” he insists, squeezing your tits in his hands with a breath, thumb brushing over your nipples. You gasp a little, shaking, as he gives you a troublesome grin - he’s bad for your heart “But I just.. I want you so bad. I’ve been thinking about you for months.”

“Months?”

“Maybe longer.”

“What were you thinking about…?”

His eyes go wide, mind racing with detailed fantasies that he gave into so long ago. He swallows a lump in his throat.

“Thought you would taste.. wanted to uhm - put my mouth on you. Still want too,”

“And..?”

He groans, burying his face in your neck. You laugh, granting him a little mercy

“Fucked myself wishing’ it was you,” you tell him, whispering like a secret.

He snaps his head up immediately, just to stare as if he were worried you were bluffing. You look at him sheepishly and he groans. Everything about you makes him feel drunk, unkempt. His hands are back on your skin and he presses an opened mouth kiss to your jaw, down your neck. He’s thankful for all the perving he’s done in his life, at this moment. The way your throat bobs and you sigh as his tongue slides over the sharp edge. He trails them, stamping them across your skin and all the way to your neck.

You feel his teeth, flat but sharp, as he sucks the flesh into his mouth. A gasp rises out of you.

“Oh,” you whimper, hands around his shoulders, trying to steady yourself as he sucks marks into your neck. “Izuku,”

“Wanna take my time tonight,” ― he sounds like he’s pleading with you, an edge to his voice as fingers draw circles in your waist ― “Wanna make you feel so good,”

“Can I…? Please..?”

You blink at him and then nod, watching as his lips turn into a soft grin. He slides his hands over every inch of your body, placing his lips at your neck first and trailing kisses all over it - over the marks he’s already left, the base of his throat. His tongue is summer along the new bruises, a trail of hot saliva sticking to your skin as he goes lower and lower. His mouth feels like a bunch of tiny pricks, how deeply the craving sets in. Kisses against your collar bones, down your chest, until his mouth ends up at your tits.

He bites and licks with care and precision - careful not to be too hard but not soft either. His hunger for you seems almost insatiable, and he’s learning with practicality. Every pleasant sound from your lips garners him trying it again, going a little harder like he wants to pull it right from your throat. His free hand squeezes the soft flesh and his mouth sucks on your nipples, pebbled and hard under your tongue. You feel impossibly wet, boneless in your bed at the way he pays so much attention to you. All need, all lust.

There’s a vulgarity to it, how he licks and then bites soft, tugs until you cry out with your head thrown back. He learns where to touch you once and runs it to the ground. It feels like time is moving at a snail pace as he disarms your hesitance. Even when it feels clumsy, it never stays that way for long. You can’t keep up with how often you're moaning his name. Over and over like an incantation. Izuku, Izuku, Izuku - god how you want him.

You want to beg him to touch you but all he does is unravel you, for so long you almost feel teary. He wants to make you feel good, massages your whole body with his mouth - hot as sin. You feel like a falling star falling into the atmosphere and burning up. What feels like millenia of being torn apart is only minutes. Down to the devilish detail, he learns how to make you feel so good with nothing but your tits and his mouth.

“Izuku, please,”

His voice is soft against your skin and the view is nothing but call for misdeed, eyes lidded and mouth swollen from where he runs it over your skin. The room has to be at least a few hundred degrees - sweating and clenched.

“Can’t get enougha’ you,” ― he whispers against your stomach, cheek pressed to it ― “I wanna make you feel good.. wanna see you touch yourself,”

Your eyes grow wide as you look at him, and he gives you a soft smile.

“You’re a good teacher,” ― he teases, a devilish laugh attached ― “I’m asking as your favorite student.. show me how.”

“You’re really too much,”

But you oblige, and Deku knows by how you shift. He scoots back until the view is perfect, spreading your legs wider. He kisses up your thighs as your hand shifts, soft and nervous between your legs. He’s so close - you can feel his breath on you. It makes your spine tingle.

“Don’t be shy.. you’re beautiful.”

You want to tell him that that only makes you more shy but he’s got his eyes glued onto you, anticipatory, and you can’t believe yourself but god it makes you wet. How he stares, how he longs for it.

You go slow, shifting your fingers to be at the right angle. You know yourself well, so many nights alone in your bedroom, thinking of him. The visual of him wide-eyed and slick mouthed, makes it easy to do again. You put the pressure slowly, just to fingers so he can see - and relieve yourself. Touch yourself in front of his very eyes, slowly forgetting the humiliation. You’re not sure how long he wants you to go, but it feels so good to get the pressure off. Your toes curl and Deku speaks under his breath.

“So pretty.. all of you,” ― his hands are at your navel, spreading you further ― “I love looking at you.”

You feel like you could cum from nothing at all. The pleasure for now is a frazzle crescendo. It’s not enough - like even if you came from it, you would still be chasing after another one. You need more, so much more - need him. You keep asking for him, after each little pant you call for him. He murmurs, voice soft as sand, almost breaking apart after each word.

“‘zuku, Izuku,”

“I’m here, I’m here baby.”

Again and again, making your orgasm stir. The knot inside of you slowly comes undone, piece by piece, but it’s not what you want. It frustrates you, annoyance welling up inside of you until you can’t take it anymore. Your brows are furrowed and it almost feels itchy. All it is is need, an insufferable amount of need.

“N-need you so bad,” ― you manage, words caught like they’re stuck in your chest ― “Please, please.. touch me,”

“Okay.. shh, shh - it’s okay.”

He moves your hands by your wrist, mouth curling around your fingers. He shivers, eyes curious and eager. You look at him hazy, drunk off of a sense of lust you can’t shake.

He takes a few more kisses up your skin, down your navel, then with one hot stroke - runs his tongue against your entire sex before resting right at your clit. Your eyes go wide with a gasp. The reaction from you is immediate, hands going to tangle themselves in the mess of green hairs. His sturdy hands are quick to clasp your thighs. They go underneath your thighs, dragging you towards him with an inexplicable strength. His face is practically buried in it, bumping his nose against your clit until he settled himself. He brushes your pubes back a little with a hum.

“Aaah, fuck - hnggh,”

The noise is so obscene, scorching hot tongue sliding against your folds. It’s so fucking overwhelming, all-consuming - what you’ve wanted for so long. He shifts around and watches for your reaction each time he tries something new. Flattens the muscle against the throbbing little bundle of nerves, pointing it and flicking. He watches and waits until he finds a good pace - learning as he goes. It doesn’t feel as clumsy as it should. As you wish it would. It just feels pleasurable, too much and not enough.

He sucks your clit between his lips until it’s on his tongue, and flattens against it at a maddening pace. The kind of natural ability he has makes your toes curl, mind lost to something. A far out, funny feeling holds you down to the sheets as his arms tight around the back of your thighs. He’s so deep, tongue buried in your cunt and it’s filthy. Shamelessly loud as he licks and licks and licks like it’s his only reason to be alive. His hands feel around till they find yours and he locks fingers as he does it, and everything in the room is spinning.

“Ooh, I-Izuku,”

He hums against your clit and looks up at you through his lashes, and you feel your whole body go slack from the visuals. All you can think to yourself is that you want to cum, over and over, you want to cum. You want to cum all over his face, down his chin. You wanna be all over his everything

“I’m gonna..! I’m gonna c-cum, I’m gonna cum, Izuku.”

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t stutter, doesn’t slow - like he knows if he shifts even a little, he’ll lose his chance. You can hardly think, mind completely blank as you reach your peak - the climax. You can feel it. It’s so unbearably there that every word out of your mouth becomes mish-mash and gibberish.

“Ohmyg’d, oh, oh please.”

Your whole body locks up and you cum - you cum so hard you can barely breath. A gasp gets webbed inside of your lungs and all you can do is spasm unbearably. You grind your clit into his tongue, your orgasm making everything inside of you tremble. Your walls clench harshly around nothing at all and he still hasn’t moved or slowed. You try to move, overstimulated but he doesn’t budge - he just changes the pace and angle.

It doesn’t settle you much, the syrupy lustful feeling, only stronger with the passing seconds. Deku groans as he breaks to lap up as much of your cum as he possibly can. You can feel his saliva dribbling down your sex. He lets go of your hands only so he can spread your thighs as wide as they can go - looking at your swollen clit with almost affection. He stares at it for a few minutes, another hand resting on your navel as his thumb brushes over it. You shake as he touches it.

“You take it so good.. good girl,” ― he praises naturally, easily ― “Such a good girl. Wanna make you give you one more.. before I fuck you.”

Your voice is so rough by now, you cough a little as you look at him.

“W-what about you? W..wanna touch you too.”

He smiles, a soft and pretty smile - it makes you dizzy to even look at. Everything about him makes you so damn dizzy. You give into him unintentionally when he grins, kissing the hood of your clit.

“Some other time, maybe,” ― he announces to you softly, sweetly ― “Just wanna take care of you today.”

You nod for him, absently and without another warning - he tongues your clit again. This time wraps around, sucking on it soft but not doing much else. You question him, briefly, until you feel his fingers.

Izuku’s hands have always been of interest. They’re big, thick, and strong. Everything is sturdy but his hands especially make you desperate. All scar tissue, gnarled from years of use, and so bulky. You’ve always found them attractive - many daydreams surrounding them. You can almost feel the ridges of them even in your fantasy but now he’s right in front of you. His middle finger is so much thicker than yours. Clean and pretty hands, he presses to your hole. You’re so soft inside, it makes his chest tight. He can’t imagine he’ll be able to fuck you long if you feel like this.

“You’re soaking wet, huh?” ― he laughs a little, smiling ― “Cute.”

You don’t have it in you to get upset with him. With the way his finger slowly slips inside of you and prods around, all you can do is whimper a little. You feel strange, pliable in a way you’ve never been in your life. Terribly vulnerable.

“F-feels different,”

“Different?”

You cover your face with your hands, shivering.

“Your hands are so much bigger than mine.. so it feels.. yknow,”

“Does it feel good, baby?”

There it is again, baby. You clench unintentionally, and he has to hide his laughter so as not to embarrass you any further.

“Feels really good. I want more.. please,”

“You’re so cute. You sure you’re ready..? Don’t wanna hurt you,”

You nod a little but he still seems unsure, so he fucks it in and out of you first. His fingers prod inside and he finds it, that little spongy part a few inches deep, pressing onto it without intent. It makes your whole body freeze and tremble, and he stares at you wide-eyed. You’ve got a hand clasped over your mouth, unsure of what it was until he does it again.

“Hnggh, Izuku,”

He hears you loud and clear so he laughs, this time his pointer finger. He’s quick about it this time, granting you the most bare minimum mercies. His fingers stretch you out good, but you’re so wet from cumming once and his saliva, slick on everything. It’s enough to burn just a little but not so much it hurts. You just feel a little full, a little pleased. Deku slides them into you slowly, deeply - and curls them up press against your g-spot. This time, you have a full body reaction - back arching up off the bed. Fingering yourself rarely feels like much of anything but when it’s him, it makes you ache and drip with pure need. This pleasure is a little more hazy to start, but when he fucks them in and out of you, something shifts.

He finds a rhythm that has you breathing heavy, panting between long breaths like there’s not enough air in your lungs. It’s electrifying, sending little sparks through you every time he finds it. This pleasure is deeper, like you can feel it in a place you didn’t know it existed. It carves something out of you. You whimper as he takes your clit into his mouth one more time and the added layer makes your throat constrict.

You really don’t know how to proceed. Your whole body looks like it’s in a state of shock, the dull pressure of his fingers on your sweet spot with the current of your clit buzzing on his tongue. Warm mouth, humming a little just to see you twitch. He’s knuckle deep inside of you, reaching almost into your throat.

“It feel so good, feel so good, Izu.”

He goes a little harder when you call his name, thinking about how he can barely hold himself up. He spares you a little, stretching you out and holding it. He manages to fit all of it inside, rubbing against your walls with precision.

You look so damn good falling apart, all swollen lips and round mouth and pretty blinking lashes. Your eyes go soft, hooded with desire as he fucks into you with two fingers. He adds another when he knows it feels good for you - the little mewl because it’s not enough, another one, so slowly entering inside of you. You feel stuffed to the brim, a never ending fullness. You can’t help yourself but imagine his thick cock inside of you and how that’ll stretch you so nice.

You weren’t sure if it was possible to feel more pleasure but he proves you wrong instantly. His mouth descends on you and he sets his fast pace, consistent. Pleasure again and again and again in little intervals. Your mouth is dropped open in an open scream, this orgasm so much more deep. You can feel how much it will rock you, the sheer force of it has you drooling. You’re his pretty girl, and he can’t help but stare at your blurry expression.

It’s a tremor, unsteady. The first waves of it having your mouth going slack - it’s the kind of orgasm that sort of just creeps on you. It’s brief but strong, an impossible impact like the splitting of atom. It’s one moment, just a little bit longer. Suddenly your mouth is open so wide, unhinged jaw aching and your head thrown violently on the sheets.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, ohfuck, ohfuck,”

It’s more brief but you cum and you cum hard. You can barely understand how it happens, the rapid shaking as you blink tears away from your eyes. Entirely overwhelmed, you swallow your shock.

“Holy shit,” you gasp, staring at him. “Holy shit!”

You watch as he takes his fingers out and sticks them into his mouth, not a lick of hesitation. It makes you flush how he tastes it, a soft moan from his mouth. His tongue drives over all the edges and then he wipes them on his thigh. He leans up, just to kiss you right after and you can taste yourself in his mouth.

“You taste nice,” he tells you, so earnestly it makes your whole body rise with heat. You ignore replying, just kissing him harder and making him laugh. After everything, you find some strength in your hands and reach down, peering at his cock. He’s big. The only way you can describe it is thick, like a coke can. You reach out for, small hands wrapped around it and he moans, especially loud. It makes your eyes go wide.

“It’s so big, Izuku,” you say, breathless. He gives you a sheepish smile.

“Ah.. you think so?”

You frown a little, tugging at it. He drops his head a little as you jerk him off, precum making your hands slick.

“It is big. I wanna.. wanna feel it,”

He gives you a shaky smile, hands reaching towards the other side of the bed.

“Ah.. do you have any condoms?”

You give him a little laugh, releasing your hands from his cock and wrapping them around neck, pulling him down towards you again.

“Did you think I was kidding earlier?”

He doesn’t remember at first, confused - but as soon as he does, his mouth goes agape. His eyes almost seem like they hit the top of his hairline. A shiver runs through him as you give him another kis, grinding your hips up just a little. He groans into your mouth.

“Fuck.. are you sure?” he asks, hot at just the thought of not using a condom. He can barely imagine it, how it’ll feel to take you all the way raw on his cock. You nod at him, smiling as he pulls away.

“I wanna feel it in me raw, ‘s so big. It’s a waste otherwise,” ― you let go and he sits back, watching as you use your fingers to spread your pussy out for him, chuckling ― “It’s a reward for all your hard work,”

Izuku feels like he might lose his mind, staring as he strokes his cock with one hand. If he can last more than three thrusts, he’ll be impressed with himself. Maybe all of his years edging himself will finally prove to be worth his effort. A molten heat starts in his stomach, all the blood rushing to his cock with infallible force. He stares at your cunt, pretty and open for him- all pulsing and hot. He shivers again, and drags you to him. He lets the heavy weight of his cock sit right against your cunt, pressing down a little. You blink at him before whimpering, the heavy head of his dick pulsing against your clit with need.

He drags it, grinds it in and watches through lidded eyes as cum and saliva mix all over it. A little shiver evades him, throwing his head back as he grinds steadily into your pussy. His head is thrown back, mouth dropped open and moaning your name. You watch as his hips stutter, just grinding against your pussy, eagerly but agonizingly slow. It feels so fucking good. It’s an excruciatingly slow buildup of pleasure, how he just feels you.

“Izuku, please,” you plead, hands reaching for him. He grabs them and pins them to the bed with a soft smile, humming.

“Told you I’d take care of you.. be patient.. I wanna feel you,”

You aren’t sure how much more you can take but then it happens. He leans, tell you to take a deep breath, and then you feel it. The head of his cock, curved and weighted, pressing against your hole. It makes you whine, makes your mouth drop into a shocked gasp. You want to squirm or cling but your hands are still pinned so you can’t thrash. You can’t do anything but lay there and take it.

You feel every single inch as it slides so miserably slow inside of you. He’s being sweet with you, his voice in your ear with adoring praise - little whimpering sounds “fuck you feel good, so good,” over and over. It makes you wet, clenching further on his cock as your whole body pulses like a beating hard. You feel ravenous, starving to be so full of him you can’t breathe. He’s just so fucking thick, no matter how you take it. It stabs your lungs, thick. So, so big - it makes you stretch impossibly wide. It’s not like anything you’ve ever felt in your life. He swallows some saliva in his mouth.

“Half-way, baby. J-just a little more”

You can’t think.. only half? You brace yourself, snivelling. You feel a mess, are a mess - listening to the loud shlick sounds. Your brain feels static, whole body giving into the feeling of being fucked full. You want him so bad you don’t know what to do, every word you’ve learned is lost to coveting him. You want him so blindly.

“Iz-Izuku, please fuck me, please,”

Without another word, he lets his hips rut - a sharp thrust that makes you scream, silent. He’s so deep inside it makes you scramble, and he leans down to kiss you. You feel his cock inside your stomach, it’s so big. It feels incredible, so hot and heavy and big. All you can think about is how it feels inside, mind free from anything other than him. Izuku Midoriya, so big and handsome and sweet. He groans into your mouth.

“Can I move, baby?”

“Please. Please move,”

He lets go of your hands, grabbing your legs and sliding them over his shoulders. He looks so fucking pretty, all green-haired and freckled skin and his dick inside of you. So deep it aches, he presses a kiss to the back of your calf - your legs pressed together giving you perfect pressure on your clit. You don’t know how to do anything but brace yourself, fingers buried in the sheets as he pulls his hips back. He’s clearly going slow for you, at least for now - the pace he sets is steady.

His cock feels nothing short of fucking incredible. This rolling pleasure inside of you on your spot and the steady pressure on your clit from where his hands rest on your navel. You can see how hard he focuses to get you to cum agains, how he rolls his hips with all the strength and finesse he can. Izuku fucks you with dancer's hips, so steady and worked out. He doesn’t look tired, his core tightening so he can get the angle just right. It feels like you’re being torn apart, uprooted like grass from the ground. The pleasure is particularly mind-numbing. So terribly desperate. Sweat dripping down the side of his forehead, he goes soft on you. You’re boneless and he gives you a soft smile.

“You take it so well,” ― he praises, kissing up the back of your leg, bending you ― “Such a pretty girl. You’re beautiful.. wanna see the face you make when you cum again. Please? Can you do that for me?”

The praise has you reeling, nodding with pouty lips and too fucked out to respond proper. This orgasm hits you like a natural disaster, this brilliant and overwhelming force of nature that has everything inside of you feeling ruined beyond repair. He ruins you so gracefully, until you are warm and tight around his cock and all your troubles reduce into nothing. It makes him preen, his pretty baby - so fucking sweet around his cock. He wants to cum but he wants you to cum again, just one more time, just for him.

“Izuku, hngg, Izuku,” it comes out hazardous, a warning for what's next. All the lust and need and everything, all at fucking once. It’s an earthquake, the entire hurricane of everything crashing into you. Your whole body seizes, as you cum on his cock - wearily.

“Oh.. oh my fucking god,” and you cum, hard, right on his cock. He groans as he feels it, finally - the way it pulsates and holds onto him like it would hate to let go. He groans as he fucks into you with no will to stop, a little sloppier now.

“Fuck, fuck - you’re so tight. I’m gonna cum soon, wh-where do you,”

You clench down on him this time on purpose and he groans, falling forward and folding you completely in half. You blink at him, still feeling the waves of your own climax but egging him on anyway. You smile at him.

“Cum inside me, Izuku,” ― you whisper, voice hoarse with exhaustion ― “I’m gonna drain you for all your worth,”

The sound of your sultry voice sends him reeling, and in the last few minutes - he lets himself go. Fucking you so hard your headboard digs into your wall and cumming inside of you in what feels like seconds. He cums and cums and it fills you up so deeply. It makes your whole body shiver as you feel him unload - thick white hot streams pouring until there’s nothing left to give.

He collapses on top of you, completely breathless and half-way out of his mind. You feel his cock soften inside of you as you wrap your arms around his back and relax your legs. The two of you kiss like that for a long while, sharing soft glances in the dimness of your room. You’re exhausted but he seems fine, kissing all over your face and cheeks. You let him pamper you, giggling a little.

“It’s raining out.. can you hear it?,”

He nods, smiling at you.

“Yeah,”

“Do you like the rain?” he asks you. You shrug a little, smiling at him.

“I’ve always wanted to spend a day inside with someone I love, that’s all,” ― you hum ― “Kinda romantic right?”

His whole body feels weightless. This burden, this love, everything inside of him. All the parts of him he so slowly gives to you - there’s no way it wouldn’t feel romantic. He chuckles a little, staring at the window.

“Yeah… I think it’s romantic too,”

bnha masterlist

mdni: minors & no age in bio will get you blocked. yes, i do check. yes, i will report you.

all of my works are listed by character or pairing. all pairings are character x reader unless otherwise noted.

i write ageplay. if that bothers you, be sure to check the tags listed by each link.

daddy as title -> no ageplay or implied ageplay

caregiver/little -> age play or implied age play

kinktober 2023

bakugou katsuki

personal trainer!bkg (oral sex (m receiving), rough sex, plus size fem!reader)

daddy’s right here (ageplay references)

tattoo artist!bkg (fingering)

virgin!pro hero bkg (prompt request filled by @heartofjasmina) (pillow grinding)

midoriya izuku

the hands of a hero (hand holding, edging, praise, switch!izuku) (kinktober 2023)

aizawa shouta

aizawa gets demanding (daddy as title, rough sex)

kirishima eijirou

a kindhearted hero (plus size fem!reader, rough sex, pronebone, multiple orgasms, daddy as title) (follow up request) (dialogue excerpt)

such a good puppy (pup!eijirou x fem!reader)

bakugou katsuki x midoriya izuku

blurred lines (hurt/comfort, no smut)

a bkdk oneshot excerpt

a bkdk oneshot excerpt pt 2

bakugou katsuki x uraraka ochako

let me hear you (dildos, praise, asshole bkg, soft bkg, pro hero!ochako)

let me hear you pt 2 (dialogue excerpt)

katsuki is a tease bc he knows he’s right (dialogue excerpt, texting)

katsuki being an ass a tease about his dick (dialogue excerpt)

shinsou hitoshi

exhibition with hitoshi (rough oral sex)

drunk on karaoke night (fluff, fic request)

jjk one-off: fushiguro toji

toji’s “not worth your time” (wip excerpt) (toji x plus size reader, no smut)

bakugou katsuki

katsuki with a disabled partner (comfort fluff?)

katsuki with a praise kink

angry katsuki (oral sex, f receiving)

star of the show (exhibition)

thigh grinding

cockwarming katsuki

post shower sex (kissing feet)

“you’re so fucking needy.” (grinding)

katsuki x shy partner (fluff, nsft hcs, request)

katsuki x loud & kind partner (fluff, nsft hcs, request)

katsuki makes you beg (fingering (f receiving), begging)

pro hero!katsuki meets your parents (fluff)

husband!katsuki still makes you blush (fluff)

katsuki x disabled partner comfort fluff (neurological disorders, l-bomb, comfort fluff)

kirishima eijirou

missionary with eijirou

daddy!eijirou (ddlg, smut & fluff, mild ageplay)

dilf daddy dom!kirishima (rimming, cum wearing, degradation, fingering (f receiving))

pup!eijirou

more on casually saying “thank you, daddy,” to eijirou

eijirou loves soft bodies (fem plus size!reader)

eijirou loves your pretty face (masturbation, facial)

midoriya izuku

riding izuku for the first time (plus size!reader)

telling izuku you need him (soft sex, rough sex, l-bomb)

don’t be fooled by izuku (orgasm denial, rough sex, ruined orgasms, praise kink)

izuku accidentally finds your smut

grinding on beefy izuku’s lap

todoroki shouto

soft bf shouto (f on top, l-bomb)

kinktober preview: act two

shinsou hitoshi

hitoshi’s generosity (grinding, orgasm denial, oral sex)

soft dom shinsou is my favorite shinsou (request)

tokoyami fumikage

fumi loves impact play

shibari with fumi (comfort fluff)

tenya iida

daddy dom!iida (daddy as title, fluff & smut) (request)

kaminari denki

denki likes tits (mini hc)

sero hanta

hanta cleans up (creampie, oral)

shouji mezou

shouji x extroverted fem!reader (request) (fluff & smut)

mashirao ojiro

tail grinding makes ojiro flustered

dabi

such a pretty whore (oral fixation, hand kink, drooling)

aizawa shouta

aizawa carries your burdens (soft!aizawa, fingering (f receiving))

quiet, lazy mornings (cockwarming)

daddy dom/dilf aizawa (rimming, cum wearing, degradation)

yamada hizashi

he can’t call anyone “little listener” because of you

toshinori yagi

all he’s ever asked for (daddy as title)

kayama nemuri

midnight runs a bdsm dungeon

bakugou katsuki x midoriya izuku

bkdk: izuku is a brat & katsuki won’t have it (degradation, dacryphila)

aizawa shouta x yamada hizashi

aizawa gets a tiny bit flustered hearing “little listener”

general & multi character hcs

guys who cum without being touched

bnha: their partner has an oral fixation

part 1: katsuki | shouto | eijirou

part 2: dabi | tomura | shouta

part 3: izuku | hitoshi | denki

part 4: fumikage | tamaki | mirio

icky bnha hcs for my icky babes 💜

part 1: bootlicking | underwear | feet

part 2: more to come!

the way they kiss: katsuki, izuku, shouto

you can't get off during sex: katsuki, eijirou

bnha: sensory overload during sex (smut hcs) (katsuki, eijirou, izuku, shouto)

bnha: casually saying, “thank you, daddy.” (yagi, shouta, hizashi, katsuki, eijirou, izuku)

bnha: saying, “thank you, daddy,” during sex (yagi, shouta, hizashi, izuku, eijirou, hitoshi, shouto, iida, denki, fumikage, katsuki)

bnha: reactions to asking for a gangbang (request) (bakugou, todoroki, amajiki, kirishima)

banners by @firefly-graphics

Studying manga textures + drawing unhinged teens. Blackwhip is surprisingly relaxing to draw?

“so hard to ignore ya’ [‘specially when im smoking, swim]”

title & slight inspiration from swim, by chase atlantic. a very nasty lil threeway i’ve reworked to fit new characters, enjoy ✨ taglist; @lady-bakuhoe @katsukisprincess @burnedbyshoto @redbeanteax @theleaningtowerofpizazz @mothwithteeth @bakugou-katsukisgf @lordexplosionsextra @deadassqueeraf 

[pairing; katsuki bakugou x fem!reader x eijiro kirishima]

[warnings; mentions of drugs & alcohol, rough sex, threesome, degrading language, shotgunning, semi-public sex, car sex, everyone is sober enough to consent]

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you’ve always been a handful.

insatiable, unstoppable, over energetic with a refractory period so short it almost hurt & a smile that made everyone weak in the knees.

a handful.

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