#shouto is a tiny bit thick do not hold it against him

[andypantsx3]

ON ICE : TODOROKI SHOUTO x READER

summary: your pro hero boyfriend ices you to the counter and has his way with you. content warnings: shameless unedited smut, fem/afab reader, aged-up characters, established relationship, misuse of shouto’s quirk (aka ice restraints), nipple play, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex word count: 2.6k

It happened right in the middle of lunch prep.

You’d just taken the vegetables out of the oven and you’d been peering thoughtfully into the sauce, wondering what else it needed, when there was a crackling, crystalline sound, almost like glass shattering. There was the freezing touch of ice at your ankles, curling up around your foot, locking you to the floor.

You yelped, catching yourself on the counter, and whipped around to stare at your pro hero boyfriend as he lounged in the doorway.

“Shouto, that’s fucking freezing!” you yipped, clutching the countertop for balance as you tried to yank your house slippers out from the block that had encased them. The thickness of your socks and the material of the slipper protected you from the worst of Shouto’s quirk, something you thought he’d probably banked on, but you could still feel the icy chill beyond them.

“What the hell?” you demanded.

Shouto, for his part, looked extremely unconcerned with what he’d just done. Today was his off-duty day, and he’d clearly just awoken from the nap he’d been taking, face down in the bed when you’d left him. The right side of his hair was mussed, fluffed up and out of its usual silky perfection, and he still looked sleep-soft in a dark tee shirt and sweatpants. A tiny, mischievous smile turned up the corner of his perfect mouth.

“Caught you, love,” he said in his low, gentle tone. Which was extremely sexy but also explained absolutely nothing.

You peered at him suspiciously over your shoulder. “I’m making lunch—there’s nothing to catch.”

You watched your boyfriend’s mismatched eyes slide over you in a cool assessment, icy grey and fiery blue, flickering down the lines of your body. Instead of answering, he pushed off the doorway, padding slowly over to you. You lost sight of him as he moved closer, unable to twist your head at that angle, so you were surprised by the sight of a long fingered hand reaching out by your hip, tugging the pair of oven mitts hanging off the side of the stove.

“Uh, what are you doing?” you wondered as his hand retracted, only to shiver as he stepped up behind you, his chest warm against your back.

“Hold out your arms, love,” Shouto said, catching you under your left elbow. You watched, mystified, as he pulled your hand back, gently guiding an oven mitt down over your arm. “I don’t want you to get frostbite.”

“Frostbite?” you echoed as he pulled on the second one. Shouto carefully guided your hands back to the counter, encouraging you to take hold. You had your answer, then, as a lick of ice formed under his hands, pressing yours down to the counter. It crackled up and over the fabric of the oven mitts and clamping down tightly until you were encased in ice up to your forearm, a solid, unmovable mass, locking you against the counter.

You could feel a vague sense of the cold through the mitts, but it was abstract, distant—cool more than cold.

You stared, blinking down at the ice block in bemusement. “Sho—what the hell?”

Shouto’s chest pressed more firmly against your back, and his hands skimmed up the skin of your arms to your shoulders, holding you as his mouth pressed to the side of your neck. You shivered in his grip, feeling lost and confused and also weirdly, strangely turned on.

“You asked, love,” Shouto said into your shoulder, those long fingers playing with the straps of your dress, pulling one aside so his mouth could reach the skin under it. Your brain went a little bit fuzzy with the feeling of his soft lips on your skin.

“I think I would remember asking you to turn me into a giant ice cube,” you told him, wracking your brain for what he possibly could have interpreted as a request for this.

“When we watched that movie last week,” Shouto said, his hands sliding down your back to grasp your waist. His front pressed all along your back, and you thought you could feel the slight stirring of his interest, pressed just above your ass.

You tore your focus away from the feeling of him, a long, hot line along your back, trying to dredge up the memory of whatever movie he was referencing. “The—the super old All Might one? With the frost villain?” you asked incredulously, suddenly recalling.

There had been a classic damsel in distress, frosted to the side of a building set to implode—and All Might, aka an actor in a horrendously blimped-up bodysuit and yellow wig, had come charging in to free her. She’d been all dark eyes and heaving bosom as she’d called out to him, and when he’d pressed an enthusiastic kiss to her waiting mouth, you’d unthinkingly given voice to your doubts.

“Shouto, I said that there was no way that situation was as sexy as they tried to make it look!” you said, your mouth dropping open. “There can’t be anything hot about being ice cubed!”

Shouto hummed into your skin, a low vibration you felt all the way down your spine. “We’ll see about that, love,” he said, pressing a slow, languorous line of kisses up the column of your throat.

You tried your ice restraints again, aching to reach up and pinch him, but there was absolutely no give. “And you took that personally?” you asked.

“I did,” Shouto replied, his hands bunching up the waistline of your dress. You realized he was slowly gathering up the folds of your skirt, his fingers skimming the skin of your thighs as they were bared.

“Okay well my bosom won’t be heaving,” you promised him. Shouto’s mouth quirked against the back of your neck and he hummed again, low and full of promise.

“We’ll see,” he said again, as his hands slipped beneath your dress, sliding up your stomach to cup the aforementioned bosom. You couldn’t help but laugh, and you could feel Shouto smiling into your shoulder too, even as he grew harder against your back, pressing himself into you with intent.

“I’ve got plans for the state of your bosom,” he told you, making you laugh again. Long fingers fiddled with the cup of your bra, occasionally teasing the skin underneath, until he pulled it away from your chest, rolling it up and over your breasts.

His hands replaced the cups, warm and gentle, and you shivered again as he bit a careful kiss into the lobe of your left ear, just as his thumbs came up to brush slowly over your nipples.

“Feels good, love?” he murmured, doing it again, his thumbs flickering back and forth again in slow little circles. You could feel your nipples growing stiffer in his palms, incontrovertible evidence that it did feel good.

“Y–yes,” you said, letting out a slow breath. You felt your thighs squeeze together in the open kitchen air, your legs and your entire front bared with the way Shouto had your dress rucked up over his forearms.

Coupled with the immovable pressure at your arms, the vulnerability was unusual, and a little bit nerve-wracking. But there was no better pair of hands you trusted yourself in than Shouto’s.

Shouto kissed up the back of your neck, slowly, as his fingers worked your nipples, gently pinching and plucking, exactly how he knew you liked. Despite your earlier promise, you felt yourself growing wet, your breath coming heavy, your chest almost heaving. You realized your hips were moving, grinding in little circles against Shouto’s front.

“O–oh,” you said, when Shouto rolled your nipple just so between those elegant fingers, in a way that made the edges of your vision go a little bit blurry. "Ah—yes—"

“Mmm,” Shouto intoned against your ear. One of his hands released your breast, sliding back down over your stomach, dipping with intent into your panties. “That’s it, love,” he said, over the bitten off moan you choked out, as his fingers found their way between your folds.

His middle finger sank into you easily, his thumb brushing gently over your clit.

You grasped the counter tighter between your fingers, barely able to adjust in the minute space his ice had given you.

“It’s not so bad, is it, pet?” Shouto murmured, both his thumbs stroking over your sensitive areas in unison. His index finger joined the first, pressing up into you with purpose. "Could it be good?"

Something about the guiding question in that low, indulgent tone made you shudder, pressing harder back into him, clenching around his fingers. You felt him adjust himself against your back, his cock pressing against your ass through the fabric of his sweats, dragging up the cleft in a rocking motion.

He let out an appreciative huff, kissing below your ear, adding another finger. The heel of palm pressed firmly to your clit as his other hand plucked at your nipple again.

You turned your head, seeking his mouth. You could feel the tiny smile on his mouth as he met you halfway, licking across the seam of your lips. You moaned into his mouth as his heel pressed harder against you, pinning you back against him. You were slowly rocked between his hand and his hips, your vision sparking and fizzing, then dimming completely as your eyes fluttered closed, lost in the feeling of his hands on you.

“I’m going to take you, love,” Shouto said between kisses, licking slowly and unexpectedly filthily into your mouth, continuing that insistent rocking of his palm, the press and curl of his fingers within you. “Do you want that? Right over this counter, pet? Trapped in the ice?”

You nodded quickly, squirming in his hands. Fuck, you didn’t even care that this meant he’d been right about how sexy the ice thing could be. His fingers were so clever, so good inside you, but you wanted him more—wanted to be bent right over the edge of the counter and filled with him, wanted him weighing you down to the countertops, all those kilos of pro hero muscle curled possessively over you.

“Shouto, please,” you managed, and Shouto’s hands left you instantly. You felt him pull down the waistband of his sweats, and those fingers were teasing your panties aside, and then he was guiding himself into you, long and thick and full and utterly delicious.

You were so wet already he slid into you easily, and you realized he’d melted the ice at your feet as he walked you forward to press you right over the counter, fisting a hand in the back of your dress.

“Fuck, love,” he said, his voice tight. Hearing the inflection in his normally impassive tone heated your blood until it was simmering. “Ah, you feel so good. So sweet for me.”

He felt so good, especially when he slid back out and into you again, his hips slapping the flesh of your ass. He bucked into you slowly, groaning his approval, one strong arm curling around your waist, pulling you back into him.

“Oh my god, okay—Shouto, please—please—” you said again, uncaring that your voice had risen into a high, shaky whine.

His hips slapped into you again as his fingers found your clit once more, his palm pressing down against you. The slide of him within you and the tease of his fingers without had you moaning into your dress, bunched up over the top of the ice. You could feel the sharp bite of the ice block against the underside of one of your breasts where your dress didn’t quite cover it, shockingly cold against your overheated skin.

Shouto worked you up with the maddening skill and precision of long familiarity. He knew just how you liked it, murmuring praise into your hair, his hands roaming over every inch of you, plucking, pulling, teasing. He fucked into you with long, hard strokes, all that pro hero athleticism turned on you, maintaining a pace that had you slumping bonelessly into the counter, heat licking through all your veins.

You wanted to clutch at him, but you could only flex your fingers uselessly within your stupid oven mitts as that pressure in your lower belly started swirling out of control. When his hand lowered to your cunt again you found yourself unable to get away, every slap of his hips driving your clit more firmly into his fingers.

His other hand found your right breast and carefully teased your nipple again, rolling it between fingers that were suddenly slightly too hot, then slightly too cold.

You realized you were babbling something, but you couldn’t hear yourself over Shouto’s warm murmurs against your temple. “That’s it. That’s it, love. So perfect for me. So lovely, so tight—so good. Come for me, pet—come on. Can’t you do it?”

You were delirious with the sound of his voice, the feeling of his fingers, the slide of him inside of you. With only a few more slaps of his hips, you found yourself twisting desperately in his grip, every muscle in your body drawing taut, like a string about to snap—everything inside you hot and tense and tight—

And then you were thrown out over the edge, crying out Shouto’s name, twisting and squirming and writhing out your pleasure between his hand and his cock. Shouto fucked you through it, his low, soft moans in your ear, the rapid huff of his breath stirring your hair.

Even as you relaxed against him, feeling pliant and shivery like gelatin, he kept going, seeking his own release. You pressed your cheek against the cool ice through your dress, Shouto still fiery-hot against your back, sweat sticking you together. Shouto’s hands both clutched your waist, and it was the tightening of his grip that signaled his orgasm, as his thrusts grew more hurried, more irregular.

He groaned out your name into your shoulder as he came, his voice thick and low and warm and pleased.

His weight trapped you against the counter, even more firmly than his ice, and a feeling of deep contentment and satisfaction pooled in your veins.

So...he had been right, you could admit. The ice thing could be sexy, or whatever. Given the right pro hero in the mix.

“I thought so,” Shouto said when you admitted this aloud to him, sounding a little too pleased with himself. “I suspected you would be interested.”

You turned your head to look at him, catching sight of one blue eye, his scarlet bangs falling across his brow. “I am pretty certain I said I thought it wouldn’t be sexy though,” you said, squinting at him suspiciously.

In the corner of your eye, you saw his mouth quirk. “Ah but that means you thought about it,” he said, with the terrible perceptiveness of a partner you’d had for years.

Your whole body went suddenly hot with embarrassment.

“Okay but I say a lot of stuff during movie scenes,” you said defensively, as Shouto’s hands came up to smooth over your waist again, clutching you almost possessively. You were occasionally kind of a talker during movies, you could admit it. It wasn’t like this scene in particular had been special.

“Which means we have several other scenes to explore, love,” Shouto said, shifting over you with intent, still buried within you. “I seem to recall two others from this last week.”

You suddenly realized he was making no move to free you from the ice, even as his hands slid over you again. And you recalled with a startling clarity just which scenes you had remarked on this last week—

You could feel your boyfriend’s smirk against your skin, and you shivered with delight, as he slid down your body and began his work anew.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki smut #bnha x reader #shoto x reader #character: todoroki shouto #nsft #andie's writing

[momostodoroki]

the better half of me (pt.2)

i forgot this was already written ksksks me??? dum??? it’s more likely than u think.

anyways now we got shouto’s pov

-

Shouto does not like soulmates.

From a practical point of view, a soulmate is a hero's biggest weakness - and because of the public nature of heroes' lives, keeping a soulmate's identity private is quite difficult. He does not enjoy the idea of someone specifically picked by the universe to be used as leverage against him. And from a personal standpoint…

Well, if soulmates treat each other the way his poor excuse of a father treated his mother, then he wants nothing to do with it. To this day, he's still surprised his parents are soulmates in spite of ending up together through an arranged marriage. Fate, he thinks, works in odd ways.

He remembers being a child and staring at the constellation circling his left eye, the tiny dots scattered around his blue eye, and wondering who would share such a pattern. Now, when he washes his face in the UA dorm's bathroom, only his scar stares back. He still remembers the exact placement of every single star, but they are harder to find under the scarred skin. He doesn't normally rejoice in having a permanent mark on his face (and the baggage it carries), but if there is a silver lining, it is that it does a good job of hiding his soulmark.

It could be much worse.  He thinks sometimes,  I could have Midoriya's mark. His mind conjures up an image of his friend's face, with his own constellation scattered across his face. He often catches Uraraka staring at it, and he wonders whether it's because she shares it. It feels too soon, too coincidental, too fortuitous that they would meet when they are both so young. But then again, most soulmates end up meeting at some point or another. The universe just works that way.

-

Shouto wakes up shortly before nightfall, in the familiar but unexpected surroundings of the Yuuei hospital wing. As the fading sun clings to the sky with weak rays creeping through the windows, he sits up and finds Recovery Girl tending to a dazed Kaminari. By the looks of it, the electric hero-in-training has exceeded his voltage use yet again. His intuition tells him he's probably better off not asking, so instead he waits until she is done to beckon her attention.

"Excuse me," he says in what he hopes is a polite tone. "How did I end up here? The last thing I remember is apprehending a shapeshifting villain down by the south side of the school grounds, then nothing." After a pause, he adds: "Is Yaoyorozu okay? Where is she?"

There's a glint in Recovery Girl's eyes that makes him mildly uncomfortable. She checks him out thoroughly before offering him a response.

"You lost control of your quirk and fainted. Momo-chan brought you here and helped me set you up, but she said she had schoolwork to attend to and left." She recounts. Shouto feels a sudden flare of irritation at himself for still losing control of his quirk despite his years of arduous training. He hates that he left Yaoyorozu to wrap things up by herself and that he imposed on her time and energy by making her take care of him. He's indulging into this sort of mental self flagellation when the school nurse adds: "Poor thing, she looked so worried. That girl works too hard."

Silently, Shouto agrees. Being privy to Yaoyorozu's personal feelings of inadequacy over her place in class 1A and Yuuei in general, he's especially acquainted with how ragged the black-haired creation hero runs herself. It's one of the reasons why he admires her as a hero and as a classmate, and it's also why he tries to look out for her in subtle ways. If only she wouldn't try to repay him every single time…

After a final check up, Recovery Girl clears him to go back to his dorm, not without telling him to stop overdoing it and to eat well. Shouto's stomach emits a rumble then, and he wonders whether their dorm's kitchen has run out of cold soba. His walk back to the dorm is thankfully eventless, and he makes it back in under ten minutes. When he walks in, he finds most of his classmates in the common area.

"Oh, Todoroki, you're back. Are you alright?" Midoriya asks him, looking up from the table, where a big game of monopoly is stretched out for most of the class to play. Given the standard size of monopoly games, he supposes this one must have been especially crafted by Yaoyorozu.

"I'm fine, Midoriya. Is Yaoyorozu doing well?" He asks, hoping not to sound too concerned. He doesn't care about what his friend might or might not think, but Ashido tends to be nosy and assume things that, although well-meaning, can be quite bothersome. The same goes for Sero and Kaminari, although he doesn't have to worry about the blond guy for now.

"Well, as well as someone who came rushing in like some villain was trying to kay-word her would be." A different voice interjects. As if summoned by his dread, Ashido stands in front of him, facing up in a way that the line of stars outlining her eyebrows is staring right at him. He's confused by her statement: while they do have upcoming deadlines, no assignment is in need of immediate attention, and it is quite unlike Yaoyorozu to just leave the way she did. Did something happen while he was unconscious?

"I don't understand." He replies. His confusion must show in his face, because Ashido only rolls her eyes at him and goes back to the board game, where Koda is exacting fake money from Uraraka after she fell on his property. He reassures Midoriya and Iida (who has walked over to congratulate him for upholding their school's honor by getting rid of that villain along with their class' vice-president) that he is alright, then goes on to the kitchen to procure something to eat.

Later, as he exits the elevator to go back to his room, he's met face to face with Yaoyorozu who, judging by the towels, clothes and hair care products she's holding, is on her way to take a bath. When she sees him standing in front of her, her eyes widen in… alarm?

“Todo-Todoroki-san!” she salutes. Her eyes dart around in a manner much unlike herself, who usually holds his gaze steadily. “A-are you feeling better?” She asks.

“Yes. I apologize for not being of greater help. I hope you will let me repay you on our study appointment next week?” he finishes in a questioning tone. He notices she flinches at the mention of their study meeting, and realizes with a start that the source of Yaoyorozu’s odd behavior is, in fact, himself.

“Ah, yes, thank you.” She replies softly, moving as if to enter the elevator. At this, he rushes to offer her space. “I’m… a little tired. Can we talk tomorrow?”

At a loss, he only mutters: “Of course.” and watches as she disappears behind the elevator doors.

He has no idea what he did to make her like this, but whatever it takes, he’s going to fix it.

#haysu writes stuff #otp: i voted for you #todomomo #todoroki shouto #yaoyorozu momo #my hero academia #todomomo fanfiction #shouto is a tiny bit thick do not hold it against him

[planetsano]

— sparkly.

synopsis: bakugou's chain, todoroki's rings and kirishima's anklet.

warning(s) & tag(s): dumbification, masturbation, established relationships, aged up, bullet fics, 18+

a/n: I hope you all enjoy. This was very self indulgent. I think jewelry can be a very attractive when worn and very intimate when given as a gift, so I decided to write about it!

bakugou katsuki ♡

You honestly weren't listening to your boyfriend's midday rant. It had become routine for him to express any kind of irritation or frustration built inside him throughout the first half of his day.

Usually, you were a good listener. Giving him advice when needed and doing small gestures through skinship that typically calmed the firecracker down.

But today was a little different.

You had your back pressed against the lockers with Katsuki’s large hand beside your head trapping you in an iconic kabedon pose.

Katsuki just so big and intimidating looming over you like this.

He continued spewing his frustrations to you but your eyes were too busy trained on the golden chain that hung graciously around his neck.

There was something so attractive and alluring about the piece of jewelry.

Maybe it was that the chain itself was the perfect length & thickness, stopping right at his defined collarbones.

The combination of the chain and the tank top being as deadly as ever.

Or maybe it was the fact that this was the same chain that was dangling in your face while he was pounding into you relentlessly the night before.

Claiming you as his "hungry little cum slut"

It was almost hypnotizing watching the jewelry’s movement correspond with his thrusts.

The way it idly moves when he halts his movements to release deep inside of you. After that it's usually silent, only irregular breathing trying to be regulated.

You bit your bottom lip softly and adjusted on your feet a tiny bit as you were feeling that all too familiar throbbing sensation between your legs.

You knew squeezing your thighs together was a feeble attempt at trying to satiate yourself.

“Are you even listening?” Katsuki’s voice snapped you back to reality.

“Oh.. yeah! yeah, I'm listening-!”

"You're a shit liar-" Before he could even say anything else you pulled him down by his chain and attacked his lips with a sloppy kiss. After a few seconds he pulls away.

"What, you want me to fuck you or something?" He asked clearly confused.

You looked up at him through your lashes and bit your lip. Then giving him a nod "yes."

He pulls out his phone from his pocket to check the time.

"Meet me in the janitor's closet by the gym in 5 minutes." He says and pushes off the wall to walk away from you.

"Don't be late." He calls out from over his shoulder.

eijirou kirishima ♡

It was your 9 month anniversary when Eijirou gifted you a golden anklet.

It was decorated with separate three charms: Both his initials and a ruby heart in the center of the two letters.

You were overcome with excitement and joy and eagerly asked him to put on for you.

“Hold still, baby.” Eijirou smiled to himself as he clasped the jewelry around your ankle.

You squealed in excitement seeing the jewelry around your ankle.

“Do you like it?” He smiled up at you before settling between your legs, resting his hands on your thighs.

“Eiji, I love it.” You held both sides of his face and leaned in to peck his lips for a quick kiss.

"That's rad, babe." A goody smile grew on his lips while you rested your forehead onto his.

Later that night you both found yourself wrapped up in each other's lust. Your moans urging him on to give you your orgasm.

Eijirou lifted one of your legs over his broad shoulder allowing himself to hit a deeper spot within your core.

He heard the tiniest of jingles next to his ear.

“Look at you, all pretty for me and wearing my initials on your ankle." His smile grew large exposing his shark like teeth.

Just the fact that you're going to be wearing his gift to you daily flaunting off the fact that you are taken and happy makes him feel really manly.

"You love me?" He asks you while his hard and thick cock continuing to penetrate your insides at a rapid pace.

A whimper and a pathetic "yes" is emitted from your lips making him chuckle heartlessly.

"Come on, pretty.. Your Eiji can't hear you." He continued to tease you enjoying how flustered you're getting.

"I love you so much-!"

Eijirou felt an overwhelming sense of pride wash over his body when he hears you babbling almost incoherently about how much you're in love with him while you cum around his cock.

He's fucking you stupid and it's enough to make him want to cum.

His hands hook behind your knees quite literally folding your body like a folding chair while he continues to pound into you.

"I'm cumming.." He says in a low groan and releases inside of you.

For the rest of the evening you both laid in each other's arms. Who would've thought his gift to you would turn him on so much?

todoroki shouto ♡

eboy-esque style in jewelry.

I like to think that Todoroki would wear rings as his jewelry of choice.

He doesn't always wear them often but when he does, he eats it the fuck up. Period.

Todoroki has huge and veiny model-like hands which makes rings look 15x more attractive on him than the average guy.

Money isn't an issue for him so it's safe to assume any precious metals, diamonds or gems on his hand are 100% genuine.

He prefers wearing his rings on his right hand versus the left, and will choose silver over gold.

Naturally, whenever he goes to hold your face in his hand you can feel the coolness from the ring onto your skin and it feels amazing.

Todoroki loves to see you hold his hand in place and melt into his touch.

You found yourself playing with his rings anytime his hand was in yours.

He knows you really like seeing him wear the jewelry but doesn't quite understand why but he's happy you find him attractive in so many different ways.

There was one night though, where you got a video attachment from Todoroki. You couldn't quite make out what the thumbnail was but you clicked the video.

Opening the video you gasped lightly seeing Todoroki's cock coming into full view. It was hard and standing at full attention.

As the video continues, he wraps his hand around the shaft and begins to stroke himself at a hurried pace.

His rings don't go unnoticed by you either, they were probably added more stimulation. Regardless, watching him get off like this is intoxicating.

His hand suddenly halts at the base and you hear a muffled groan followed by a low "Fuck.."

His cock twitches and almost immediately he releases his load. His hand resumes movement but this time with slow and long stokes.

Todoroki's hand and fingers are now covered in his cum.

Including those pretty, pretty rings of his.

#my hero academia #my hero academia imagines #my hero academia x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha x reader #todoroki shouto imagine #todoroki shouto #bnha #x reader #bnha eijiro kirishima #eijirou kirishima #eijirou kirishima x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki imagine

[inkykeiji]

day 4 ❅ let’s go below zero and hide from the sun

i love you forever where we’ll have some fun

day three ❅ day four ❅ day five | series masterlist

character: todoroki touya | dabi

genre: smut + angst

notes: eeeeeeee meery christmas eve everyone, here’s day four!!!!! day four is my favourite out of the five, so i truly hope you all enjoy it as much as i do <3 as always, please pay attention to the warnings n stay safe!! | title credit: snowman by sia

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), implied noncon, sub-drop, panic attacks, fingering, cockwarming, car sex, mentioned drug use, generally toxic relationships, size difference, verbal fights, tense family dynamics

words: 8.4k

synopsis:

“It’s nothing,”

Tender fingers tuck a tuft of alabaster behind his ear.

“It’s not nothing,”

“It doesn’t matter,”

Gentle lips place soft kisses along his jaw.

“It matters very much to me, niichan,”

“It’s—It’s stupid, fucking stupid,”

A small palm finds solace on his cheek, cupping it as a thumb strokes the skin.

“It’s not stupid if it’s hurting you, baby,”

  ❅           ❅           ❅           ❅           ❅           ❅    

Sunlight streams through the crystal window, tiny dust motes playing hide and seek between the rays, painting golden beams across the smooth skin of Touya’s bare back, his skin almost sparkling in the warm light.

A little whimper slips from between your lips as your eyelids stick together, sealed shut by dry salt, brow furrowing as you finally pry them open. They hurt, dry and tacky and squinting against the too-bright light, spitting a hiss through your teeth.

“Ow,” you whine as you try to roll onto your side, every muscle in your body aching and stuffed full of exhaustion.

You’re sweating—Touya is always way too hot, and this bed is decidedly much too tiny for the both of you—raising a heavy arm to try and shove the sheets down to your waist, only to find that you can’t. It takes your hazy mind a few moments to realize that the sheets are stuck to your skin.

Bleary eyes blink twice, raising your head off of the plush pillow with immense effort and gazing down at your naked body. The muscles in your arms are screeching in protest as stiff, sore fingers fist in the sheets, giving one hard yank and ripping the material from your body, a sharp gasp hitching in your throat.

Hard, dried cum is splattered across your entire torso, wincing a little as you arch your back and watch it crack on your skin. Vibrant petals of indigo and violet have bloomed across your body, growing in places you don’t ever remember them being planted in.

What the hell happened last night?

It’s hard for you to recall, really, eyebrows knitting as you think hard, sifting through all of your recent memories and trying to remember when someone spurted cum all over your body.

Everything from last night is nothing but a tangled mess in your mind, with loops and crisscrosses, certain memories seeming to overlap, to morph together the more you think about them. It’s as if you’re watching an old film through a thick cloud of fog, flickering and stained with sepia as the sound keeps cutting in and out, the projector stopping once in a while, stuttering and repeating frames or burning holes through the filmstock.

It takes every ounce of strength you have to roll your beaten body onto your side, yelping softly from the massive effort. A sudden rush of tears pricks your eyes, burning in your throat as you try desperately to hold them back, to swallow them silently like a good little girl.

But it’s hard, tiny hiccupped sobs attempting to climb up your raw throat, catching painfully in your chest as you strive to suppress them, to gulp them back down, to force them back into the core of your body and stay put. Yet they refuse to cooperate, becoming more and more vicious as they fight against you, causing you to cough and choke on them as they finally escape your lips, and you mentally berate yourself for such a stupid rush of senseless emotions.

Don’t cry. There’s no reason to cry. It’s too early—you’re going to wake him and he’s going to be—

“Baby?” Touya croaks, voice deeper than normal, hoarser than normal.

And, God, he sounds so fucking hot in the morning.

“M’fine,” you say, though the words just come out sounding garbled and wet.

“Baby, baby, no,” he’s saying softly as he pushes himself into a sitting position, sheet pooling around his waist and exposing his chest, strong arms hooking under yours as he pulls you up and into his lap.

“I’m sorry,” you whine into his neck, shutting your eyes tightly as tears begin to leak from the corners.

“For what, princess?”

You don’t know. You just are. Shaking your head in response, you shove your face against him, letting your tears drip off your jaw and soak into his skin.

“Alright, alright,” a large hand pets your back rhythmically, up and down, up and down, fingers tracing along your spine. “Niichan’s got you,”

“What’s going on?”

The unexpected voice startles you, and you freeze in Touya’s embrace.

“Is she okay?”

It’s groggy and rough, vibrating in his throat, and you nuzzle into Touya’s shoulder, chest hiccupping.

“I don’t—I’m not sure,” Touya responds, and you can hear it, that hint of worry laced in his voice, accompanied by a sprinkling of frustration, but it only makes you cry harder, entire body trembling against him.

The other bed groans as Natsuo slides out of it, bare feet padding against the hardwood, your mattress dipping as he sits on the edge a moment later.

“Aw, poor baby,” Natsuo purrs, a soft, massive hand clamping down on your tense shoulder, thick fingers digging into your muscles. “Was last night too much for you, sweetheart?”

His voice is so patronizing, and you whimper a little against Touya, who kicks his younger brother’s thigh with his foot.

“Don’t be an asshole,”

“Says you,” Natsuo scoffs. “I’m being serious. It might be sub-drop,” The bed shifts again, and then kisses are being pressed to the column of your spine, down, down, down your back, words murmured sweetly into your skin. “I’m sorry, babygirl,”

“S’wasn’t too much f’me,” you mumble, heat seeping into your cheeks as both men laugh.

“Definitely sub-drop,” Touya says with a sigh, resting a large palm on your head. “I’ll run a bath,”

“I’ll make some tea and eggs,”

Peaking out from Touya’s shoulder, you watch as Natsuo heaves himself off the bed, snatching his shirt up from the floor and slipping it on before exiting your bedroom with nothing but his Frosty the Snowman briefs as bottoms.

Touya gently deposits you on the bed, slipping out from under you and shaking his head with a chuckle when you whine loudly, making little grabby hands for him, muttering Yup, definitely sub-drop under his breath.

Touya pulls on a pair of grey sweatpants and a nondescript black t-shirt over his head before he returns to the bed, laughing again at the involuntary pout set on your lips.

“C’mon, brat,” he murmurs affectionately, wrapping your naked, cum-stained body in the sheet before he hoists you up, carrying you across the hall to the bathroom and placing you on the counter, still swaddled up.  

“Bubbles?” You ask, voice small as he bends to start running the bath.

“I dunno if we have any, princess,” he says with a small frown as he turns back to face you, sapphire eyes scanning the washroom quickly.

It turns out you do, in a pink bottle with faded Disney princesses on the worn label, hidden behind half-finished cans of old hairspray and expired toothpaste, covered in a thin layer of dust.

“Very fitting,” Touya snorts.

It must be over ten years old, but that’s alright—bubble bath doesn’t expire, does it?

Touya pours a bit too much of the syrupy magenta substance under the running water, resulting in you being encased in a mountain of foamy suds that reek of artificial bubblegum.

“Y-You’re not coming?” You ask, a frown materializing on your face as you watch Touya turn off the tap, wiping some of the bubbles that cling to his arm on his thigh.

“No, baby,” he says softly, kneeling in front of the tub. He guesses your next question before your dazed mind can find the word. “Because niichan wouldn’t be able to resist fucking you if he did, and that’s not what you need right now,”

“I could handle it,” you grumble, and Touya laughs, eyes glittering.

“It isn’t a question of whether or not you can handle it, it’s a question of whether or not you need it,”

But even without him snuggled behind you it’s nice nonetheless, your niichan cleaning your body slowly, unhurriedly, dragging a rough cloth across your skin and lathering soap in little circles, cleaning the sweat that has dried sticky and salty on your neck and collarbone, then elbow-deep in the water as he gently pries your thighs apart, scrubbing away the dried cum. Soft, murmured affirmations spill from his lips as he works, praising you for being such a good girl last night, for being such a good girl as he washes you.

Good girl, very good girl, his good girl, his best girl.

      ❅           ❅           ❅

Just past noon, Rei kicks you all out of the house.

“The Takasu Snow Park is open until four today,” she tells you curtly, practically shooing the five of you out of the cabin. “Don’t come back until it’s closed.”

She lets you take different cars, this time.

“And Touya, Shouto,” she calls from the doorway, lips pressed in a firm, thin line.

Both boys freeze at the sound of their names, hesitantly turning to meet their mother’s gaze.

“Don’t forget that you’re doing the dishes tonight,”

Shouto scoffs as he turns away, climbing into the back seat of Natsuo’s car, and Touya rolls his eyes, muttering something about being treated like a child, to which Fuyumi retorts that it’s only fair, considering the fact that he’s been acting like one.

      ❅           ❅           ❅

The Takasu Snow Park is just under an hour from the cabin. It’s surprisingly busy for Christmas Eve, filled with high-pitched squeals of excitement and bubbles of laughter as children wrapped up in brightly coloured snowsuits waddle around with tubes in tow.

And Touya drives right past it.

“Niichan, I think you just—”

“We aren’t going tubing, baby,” he says nonchalantly, a wicked spark glinting in his eye as he glances over at you, lips tugging up into a crooked smirk at the way your head quirks cutely, shaking it a little to indicate that you don’t understand what he means. “Niichan would rather play with that pretty pussy of yours instead,”

And he does, finding a shaded little nook just off the main road, snow squeaking under rubber tires as he pulls into it, partially obscuring his car.

“C’mere, princess,” he breathes, patting a thigh. “Come play with your niichan,”

You scamper across the center console and crawl into his lap, thighs straddling him and giggling a little as his fingers inch up, up, up, until they’re pushing your white lacy panties to the side and gliding against your slit.

“Something funny, pretty girl?”

“No, niichan,” you gasp as a finger dips into you, curling as he drags it out and repeating the action a few more times before adding another, your head finding purchase on his shoulder.

Nimble fingers work slowly, lazily, messily, Touya’s free hand busy scrolling through missed text messages on his work phone as he lets you pathetically rut against his palm, fucking yourself on his digits, craning his neck a little and allowing you to trace along the brilliant ink that stains his skin with your tongue.

And it’s nice. It’s almost romantic in a sense, just the two of you silently enjoying each other’s company, the only noise your gentle little mewls and a howling gust of wind every once in a while. The countryside, draped with freshly fallen snow from the storm yesterday, glitters in the late afternoon sun, the cloudless sky as blue as Touya’s eyes. You sigh dreamily as you gaze up at it, basking in the feeling of your niichan’s fingers buried inside of you, stroking your silky walls intermittently, just the two of you in your own little world, protected from everything else by the Audi’s bulletproof glass.

“W-Wanna cockwarm you,” the words are mumbled against his neck sleepily, your eyes lidded and heavy, only half conscious and barely aware of what you’re saying.

But you can feel his cock, hard and hot through dark denim, and it makes your little hole clench, fluttering around nothing. “Jus wanna be full, wanna be close,”

Touya’s chuckling as he shifts a little, hands slipping between your bodies to unbuckle his belt. “That so, princess? Is my baby girl being a needy little slut?” And despite the degrading words used, his tone is warm, gentle and full of compassion. “Niichan will let you sit on his cock if that’s what you want,”

“Please,” you’re whining, pulling back to gaze at him with bleary eyes. “Please, please,”

“Alright, greedy little thing,” he hushes you like he’s calming a fussy baby, shucking his jeans down just enough to let his cock spring out, using his thumb to push it forward, presenting it to you.

“So pretty, niichan, so pretty,” you’re mumbling as a small hand wraps around the base, squirming a little in his lap and lifting yourself to hover over him, knees digging into the leather on either side of his hips.

He lets you do all of the work, merely watching you through hooded eyes, an odd little grin present on his face. Touya doesn’t normally allow you to cockwarm him, hates how goddamn teasing it usually is, but he figures that today we have time to kill, so why not?

“There you go, baby,” he murmurs as you sink down on him, a loud moan getting caught in your throat. “You feel better now, huh? You feel better now that niichan’s stuffing your little cunt full?”

A soft whine is all you can manage, nodding dumbly against his shoulder. Yes, yes, you feel better, you feel right, you feel complete.

And you can’t help but hump him a little, hips rocking against his in tiny, shallow motions, clit catching on his pubic bone with every push forward and drag back.

“Yeah, that’s it, princess,” he breathes, though his eyes are still focused on his phone, reading an article about a drug bust you’re sure his gang was a part of. “Use niichan to get yourself off, come on,”

He tells you to go slow, to be careful, cute pussy still sore from the abuse it suffered last night, and you obey, hips moving in unhurried motions, just enjoying the feeling of him being inside you, of him being this close, of how good it feels, sweet little whimpers of niichan, niichan, being huffed out against his neck.

It takes a good half hour of grinding before you’re finally creaming all over his cock, body trembling in his arms as he hushes you through it, whispering into your hair how good you are for him, one of his hands gripping your hips and forcing you to keep moving until your body collapses against his, boneless and pliant. Touya affords you a few moments to come down, cock still buried deep inside you, twitching as it patiently waits for your breathing to calm.

He isn’t gonna fuck you, he tells you as he shifts your limp body off of his cock, not with how you were feeling this morning. But he doesn’t think it’s very fair to make niichan suffer with such a hard cock, especially after he just let you cum all over it.

You don’t think it’s very fair, either, murmuring your agreement to him as your hand wraps around the shaft, his cock jumping at your touch.

It’s still so wet from all of your own juices, aiding your hand as it pumps him, hard and fast the way he likes it, obscene squelching echoing throughout the car.

Heat floods your cheeks while you watch your motions, stomach curling in on itself as his cock gleams with your slick, and it’s so hot, that’s so hot baby.

It doesn’t take long to have him panting out those gorgeous sounds, throaty moans and broken little whines, and you can tell he’s close when his hips begin to shift, thrusting into your fist. But you don’t want him making a mess all over his nice car, or his pretty sweater, leaning down to close your lips around the tip and suckle, tongue swiping across his slit as your hand works.

He whimpers out a curse before his hips stutter, thrusting his cock into your mouth as it paints your throat with spurts of burning cream. And you swallow it all, like the good little girl you are, looking up at him with sparkling eyes as you thank him for his cum, and God he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

      ❅           ❅           ❅

Christmas Eve dinner consists of a symphony of forks dragging across porcelain and spoons scraping against bowls. Rei tersely shoos everyone out of the kitchen the moment it’s over, brusquely ordering Touya and Shouto to get started on their chores.

The rest of the family shuffles into the living room, sitting stiffly on the couches, the television’s volume low as Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer plays on the screen.

Fuyumi tries to reason with her mother in a hushed urgent voice, tries to tell her that it’s a bad idea to leave the two of them alone, especially with Touya surrounded by so many objects that could potentially be used as weapons.

“They’re adults,” her mother responds, tone clipped. “And they aren’t alone,” grey eyes glance over at the kitchen, at her eldest and youngest standing together at the sink, frothy bubbles beginning to build as the tap runs. “I can see them perfectly fine from here.”

“Mom—” Natsuo begins, cutting himself off at the glare his mother shoots his way, swallowing his words and nodding instead. “—is right. Mom is right,” he looks over at his sister. “They’re fine, look at them,”

But his voice is high, thin, glassy, the words trembling ever so slightly as stone eyes dart towards his siblings, both with rigid shoulders, weighted with the thick tension suffocating the room.

“They should be fine,”

But it’s hard for you to watch, too much for you to watch, entire body consumed by sharp anxiety as you observe Touya’s stiff movements. His jaw is set, nostrils flaring as he glares down at the sink, frustration and anger and red-hot hatred beginning to ooze through his mask of passivity, to seep through the cracks Shouto’s dexterously created using hostile comments and snide glances as his tools.

And on Christmas Eve, that mask finally shatters.

Because Touya doesn’t have it in him to continue his act of indifference anymore, worn out and exhausted by the effort. Trembling hands pluck a spoon from the mountain of dishes sitting in the aluminum sink, wetting it with water and then laving over it with a soapy sponge.

He’s sure he’s coming down—even though it isn’t time yet, even though he knows, deep down, that the comedown is still a few hours away, even though he knows he knows his body better than this, has been swallowing oxys for so long that he’s got the comedown memorized, right down to the fucking second—but he swears he can feel it, can feel the migraine beginning to throb behind his eyes, can feel the cold sweat beginning to bead at his temples, can feel the chills beginning to course through his body despite how warm the cabin is, teeth grinding to keep from clattering.

The air stings his clenched teeth as he sucks in a breath, exhaling slowly, shakily, trying to force his mind to focus on the dish in his hand, on the warm water cascading over his skin, on the light scent of artificial lemon wafting from his sudsy skin. It’s fine, he’s fine, all he has to do is wash a few stupid dishes and then—

“Listen—”

“Shut the fuck up and scrub,”

“I just wanted to—”

“I have nothing to say to you,” Touya growls, gaze hyper-focused on the plate he’s been cleaning for over a minute now.

A lie. He has a lot to say to him, but he’d rather not make their mother cry, again, desperately hoping that Shouto will just shut his mouth and finish cleaning his side of the skin so they can get this fucking over with.

Shouto sighs, deep and patronizing, scoffing as his chest rises with the force of it.

“You’re impossible,” he grumbles. “Why can’t you—”

But then it’s all bubbling over, acidic words flowing from his mouth before he has a moment to consider what he’s saying. He wishes Shouto would’ve just left it, would’ve gritted his teeth like Touya and finished their chores silently instead of trying to play some fucking martyr, instead of trying to fix something that has always been broken.

“I heard what you said in that fucking washroom,” Touya cuts him off, eyes finally flashing to his face, jaw clenching twice as he glares at his baby brother. “Don’t you ever fill her head with that bullshit again, do you hear me?”

“She’s my step-sister, too,” Shouto shoots back, scrubbing turned needlessly aggressive, eyebrows set in a deep furrow as he glowers at the bowl in his hands.

“I don’t care,” Touya hisses. “Stay the hell away from her,”

Something massive, sharp and shiny catches his eye as he turns to deposit the clean dish on the drying rack, quivering hand hovering over it in hesitation. A butcher knife, gleaming in the dim, warm light of the kitchen, stuck halfway in the knife block.

Beside him, Shouto snorts, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in disgust as he looks back to his hands, rinsing the bowl under a stream of hot water and placing it on the towel-covered counter.

“What? You gonna stab me? Really? In front of mom on Christmas Eve? Were the bloody nose and the black eye and the split lip not enough for you?”

No, of course not; it will never be enough for Touya.

“Why not?” Touya asks, voice calm, sounding almost serene, for the first time tonight. “It’s not like she’d miss you. I’m the one she took with her when she left, aren’t I? I think we both know that mom loves me more than she loves you—isn’t that right, scarface,”

And that—that has Shouto freezing mid motion, hand halting under the flowing tap water, half rinsed glass still in his grasp. It takes a moment for the words to sink in, Touya watching him almost lazily, that annoying indifferent smirk finally forming on his lips, achingly familiar.

Heterochromatic eyes glaze over and Shouto swallows roughly, jaw clenching twice as he turns towards his eldest brother, the glass clutched in his sudsy hand squeaking as his grip tightens. And for a moment, Touya thinks he’s won, breath bated as he waits for that first tear to escape, to roll down Shouto’s unblemished cheeks and fall crashing to the floor.

But then Shouto’s rolling his shoulders once, twice, puffing his chest out just a touch as he straightens to his full height, nearly a full inch taller that Touya, and exhales forcefully through his nose.

“Y’know, if you loved her—I mean, if you really loved her—you’d let her go,” His voice is sharp, clear, ringing throughout the kitchen, ringing throughout Touya’s head, bouncing off the walls in his mind and reverberating. “What you have, what you’re feeling, isn’t love—it’s obsession.”

That infamous smirk begins to fall, cobalt eyes narrowing at his baby brother’s words, breath beginning to quicken. Shouto sees it then—that final crack in the mask Touya’s so painstakingly crafted, in the mask Touya so expertly worn for so many years—and he strikes.

“It’s possession.”

No. He doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t need to hear this—it’s all lies, isn’t it? Touya tries to scoff, tries to roll his eyes and shake his head at such ridiculousness, but it feels like his body’s encased in ice, frozen straight to the core.

“It’s insecurity.”

Blood rushes in his ears, but it fails to drown out Shouto’s crisp voice, his words slicing straight through the white noise. Touya wants to tell him to stop, wants to tell him to shut the hell up, wants to silence him by driving that huge knife straight through his fucking chest, but his tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth, refusing to obey his brain as it shouts at it to fight back, goddamn it!

“I meant what I said to her in that washroom,” his younger brother spits, words dripping with hostility as his eyes narrow, giving Touya a once-over like he’s the most pathetic thing Shouto has ever laid eyes on. “She does deserve so much better than you and you fucking know it, but you’re too selfish to let her go. That isn’t love.”

And it’s those final three words that finally have the mask breaking into tiny fragments and falling away, revealing glassy sapphires and a twitching nose, a trembling chin and a hard swallow. It’s those final three words that have it shattering concurrently with the glass in Shouto’s hand, shards clattering to the tiled floor, smashing into smaller pieces upon impact.

It catches Fuyumi’s attention first, who had been on edge and observing the pair sharply, body coiled and ready to spring at the slightest hint of danger.

“Shouto, your hand!” she cries as she leaps up, eyes wide and trained on the blood oozing from Shouto’s palm, rushing down his arm and dripping off his elbow.

But neither of them break their stare, Shouto entirely numb to the pain, Touya entirely suffocated by it, molars grinding together as he tries in vain to stop his chest from stuttering. It isn’t until Fuyumi grabs Shouto by the shoulders and forces him to face her that their gaze is broken, the youngest finally looking down to find his palm stained with viscous crimson.

Frantic sapphire eyes dart around the room, something akin to panic clawing at Touya’s chest, tearing him open from the inside out and making each breath more painful than the next. He needs to go, he needs to leave, he needs to get the hell out of this kitchen, out of this house, needs to, needs to, needs…

Feet stumble a little as he rushes up the stairs, catching himself on the railing twice as he ascends to the top. Someone calls his name, he thinks, but he can barely hear it over the intense ringing in his ears, his vision fading in and out of focus. The door to your shared bedroom slams open, brass knob whacking off the drywall and leaving an ugly little hole not unlike the larger one Shouto’s head left in the living room wall the day before.

Startled and gasping, your book falls from your hands and tumbles to the floor as Touya barrels through the threshold, making a beeline for the nondescript chest of wooden drawers tucked into the corner, yanking it open and beginning to riffle through the neatly folded clothing.

It sounds like he’s muttering something to himself, but you can’t discern what it is, heart beginning to thud against your ribcage. The tufts of hair at the back of his neck are coated in sweat, sticking to the skin, his breathing harsh and uneven as a curse hitches in his chest, rapidly moving onto the next drawer when whatever he’s looking for doesn’t turn up in the first.

A potent mix of adrenaline and dread floods your veins, and for a moment you’re frozen, little fingers curled so tightly in the sheets under you it’s painful, breathing stopped as you watch your niichan urgently rummage through the second drawer, his back beginning to hiccup.

For a moment, you aren’t sure what the hell is going on, unblinking eyes watching his motions in some sort of daze. For a moment, you’re terrified he might be overdosing, frantically searching for—for—you don’t even know, for some sort of antidote Natsuo might’ve given him, or something.

But then, he chokes out a pathetic little half-sob, trying in vain to swallow it back down akin to the first night you spent at the cabin, and then you’re leaping off the bed and rushing towards him in alarm, wrapping your arms around him tightly from behind, and he just…breaks. Collapses against the wooden chest hard enough to make the entire thing wobble, burying his head in his folded arms as his entire body shudders under the force of the sob that tears through his chest.

“Niichan!” you gasp, pawing at the front of his shirt, trying to make him move to face you. “Niichan, niichan, what is it? What’s wrong?” your own voice breaks with the threat of tears as you speak, heart racing in your chest.

He doesn’t respond, merely turns in your embrace and collapses on you instead, face buried in the crook of your neck as he weeps, big juddering breaths that have his entire back convulsing.

The action surprises you, a stark contrast from his stubborn resistance from the first night, but it worries you, too, such surrender uncharacteristic of him.

But your body’s running on autopilot, immediately petting his hair as your other arm tightens around his waist, clutching him. Soft hushes fall from your lips as you hold him, rocking your bodies slightly as you whisper into ivory tufts; it’s okay, you’re there, it’s alright, you’ve got him, you love him.

And the sob that rips from his throat as those last few words leave your lips is nothing short of vicious, has him coughing wetly into your neck and whining a little, large hands curling in the material of your dress as he tries to pull you closer, closer, closer.

“Baby, please, tell me what’s wrong,” you beg and your voice cracks, blinking hard against the tears flooding your own eyes. “Tell me what’s wrong so I can help, please,”

He shakes his head, whimpering incoherently into your neck.

Can’t…Won’t…Pathetic…Disgusting…

“Please,” the word catches in your throat as tears finally escape your eyes, rolling down your cheeks in pairs. “Please, let me help, let me make you feel better,”

“I—I—I’m—” he tries, shaking his head again, but you urge him to continue, plead with him to try again. “Need to get out, n-need to—to make it stop,”

You aren’t sure what he means, but it doesn’t matter, body moving on pure instinct the moment the words are out of his mouth, little hand snatching the keys to the Audi off the surface of the dresser and dragging him along behind you.

      ❅           ❅           ❅

The road is empty, silent, entirely barren as the Audi weaves through it, fat snowflakes beginning to drift down from the wispy clouds that decorate the night sky, taking turns blanketing the full moon and softening it’s beams of ivory light.

You don’t drive very far. You haven’t a clue where you’re going, but it doesn’t matter, frenetic eyes searching for the first little secluded clearing you can pull into.

Touya is unsettlingly quiet, save for his soft sniffles and the gentle rustling of his clothing as he uses a sleeve to wipe at his nose. Hiccups are still catching in his chest, but he’s trying his hardest to stop them, to quiet them, growling a little in pure frustration each time one escapes. Your stomach churns uneasily at his muteness—you wish he would just say something, glancing over at him worriedly with your bottom lip sucked between your teeth, his sapphire eyes destitute, bloodshot and glassy as they stare indigently at his knees.

The small village that the cliff overlooks emits a warm glow of golden light, hovering hazily over it like a halo. Christmas lights are strung up on a few of the cabins, little glowing dots of red and green and blue lining the roofs. A dusting of snow has begun to collect, like gingerbread houses sprinkled with icing sugar.

Touya is still silent when you cut the engine, stays silent when you turn to peer at him from your spot in the driver’s seat, stays silent when you place a dainty hand on his bicep, rubbing soothing circles into the clothed muscle and sighing.

“Niichan,”

Nothing.

“Niichan, look at me,”

Nothing.

“Touya-nii,” you murmur, kicking off your boots and climbing over the center console into his lap, his arms immediately opening to embrace you. “What’s going on?”

His gaze still avoids yours, despite the fact that his hands are curling around your body, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to make you wince, needing you close, closer. And his voice is so quiet, almost desolate as he answers.

“It’s nothing,”

Tender fingers tuck a tuft of alabaster behind his ear.

“It’s not nothing,”

“It doesn’t matter,”

Gentle lips place soft kisses along his jaw.

“It matters very much to me, niichan,”

“It’s—It’s stupid, fucking stupid,”

A small palm finds solace on his cheek, cupping it as a thumb strokes the skin.

“It’s not stupid if it’s hurting you, baby,”

Cobalt darts around the car, trying to look anywhere but at your face as sharp teeth sink into his bottom lip, an attempt to quell its quivering. A soft sigh leaves your lips as gentle hands cup his face, forcing his gaze to meet yours.

“Let me in,” you whisper, soft little thumbs caressing the ink under his eyes. “Let me help,”

Burning sapphire sears into your eyes, gaze penetrating and powerful as it shines with unshed tears, and you have to force yourself to not look away, to keep staring into those pools of gleaming blue, feeling as though you’re staring directly at the sun.

He doesn’t blink, but the tears collecting in his eyes become too many, too much, spilling over his lashline and cascading down inky cheeks, leaving little gleaming trails in their wake. He inhales deeply, holding the breath in his chest for a moment before exhaling slowly, the breath trembling.

“I don’t even know where to fucking start,”

And his voice is so low you nearly miss it, raw and hoarse and barely above a whisper.

“Take your time,” tiny fingers run through his hair again, his eyes closing with the motion, more tears dripping down his cheeks. “It doesn’t have to be complicated. Just…Tell me what’s bothering you,”

What is bothering him? It’s hard to say, not because it’s complicated, but because he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, doesn’t want to accept it, doesn’t want to admit that his baby brother’s words have affected him more than he ever thought they would.

If you really loved her…You’d let her go.

He does really love you, he wants to scream until his throat is sore, until his throat is bleeding, molars grinding at the thought of anyone thinking otherwise. He loves you so much, loves you too much, loves you more than he’s loved anything in his entire fucking life, he’s sure of it, positive of it.

He’s loved you since he first began stealing kisses from you, in the kitchen when mom wasn’t looking. He’s loved you since you tiptoed to his room, mumbling about a nightmare and seeking solace in his warm bed, in his warm arms. He’s loved you since you sobbed into his chest, that night you told him you wanted all of him, that night when he realized that you love him, too. He’s loved you since you let him permanently sear his name into your skin, branding you as his forever.

Yes, he’s possessive, and yes, he’s selfish, and yes, he can be a fucking asshole, but he does love you. Really loves you. He can barely remember his life without you in it, everything blurry and out of focus before you entered the frame. You’re all he’s got, all he’s ever had, all he ever wants, and the thought of you being unhappy, the thought of you wanting to leave, kills him, drives a large stake straight through his chest and clean out the other side, spearing him.

And yet, he fails to put any of these thoughts, running a mile a minute through his mind, into words. Patient as ever, you wait, petting his hair, planting kisses scattered across his face, tracing patterns on his skin as a war rages inside his head.

“I’m—It’s fucking pathetic,”

“It isn’t pathetic to be human, Touya,” you whisper sadly, little thumbs swiping across both cheeks. “You don’t have to keep it together every minute of every day,” you remind him gently, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “You’re allowed to be ‘weak’, too,”

He shakes his head, but refrains from arguing with you, because he can’t. Because he knows if he opens his mouth, if he tries to speak, he’ll start sobbing again. Sapphire tears away from your gaze, unable to hold your eyes anymore as his chin begins to quiver.

“I do really love you,” he whispers finally, head dropping, eyes squeezing shut against the prick of tears.

“I know you do, baby,” you say softly, fingers rubbing circles into his biceps, though he can hear the confusion laced in your voice.

“But do I—Do I des—”

He can’t. He can’t force those four simple little words out of his mouth, getting caught at the back of his throat, tangling into a giant ball that aches when he tries to swallow past it.

It’s starting again, that feeling from the kitchen, building in his torso, growing, stretching, higher and higher and higher until he can’t fucking breathe. A sharp gasp hitches painfully in his chest as he desperately tries to inhale, tries to suck an adequate amount of air into his lungs, coughing on the saliva pooling at the back of his throat.

“Do I—” the words escape his lips in a pitiful whine, voice cracking.

A sudden flash of blistering fury rips through his chest at his own cowardice. Disgust churns in his stomach, leaving a stinging bitterness lingering on his tongue, revolted at himself for getting so goddamn emotional over this, for letting Shouto’s words eat away at him, corrosive and parasitic as they take root in his brain, infecting his consciousness until it’s all he can fucking hear, think, see.

Tiny fingers find his face, hooking under his jaw and tilting it up, gently forcing him to look at you again. The pads of your fingertips dance along his skin, tracing along his jaw and then up his cheek to catch in the endless stream of tears.

You don’t say anything, because you don’t have to, tender little touches speaking volumes more than your words ever could, inspiring a bout of intense strength as he powers through the sentence, forcing the trembling words from his throat.

“Do I deserve you?”

And you’re so shocked by the question that your fingers halt, and his body stills, his breath stuttering in his throat, staring at you in an almost urgent manner, pleading with you to tell him the answer he’s so desperately seeking.

Salty water trickles over your thumbs, the sensation breaking you out of your reverie, response flowing from your mouth seamlessly, without a second thought.

“Of course you do,” your eyes search his face, studying his features slowly. “Where is this coming from?”

The question leaves your lips before you even know what you’re saying, but your voice is soft, kind, full of so much concern and affection as your fingers begin their ministrations again, tracing the ink decorating his cheeks.

He refuses to tell you, shakes his head as his lips press into a firm line, expression hardening. Blue fire ignites in his eyes, and you have your answer.

Shouto’s words from that first day in the washroom drift through your head, but you don’t press. Regardless of whether or not Touya had heard them on the twenty-first, it is fair to assume that Shouto must have said something along similar lines tonight, triggering this reaction.

Sighing, your expression softens, forehead falling forward to knock against his, hands still on either side of his face, keeping his gaze from escaping again as you speak.

“You—you’re sure?”

“Niichan, my niichan,” you murmur, pecking his lips in a chaste kiss. “That isn’t yours to decide, or Shouto’s to decide, or anyone’s to decide,” and your voice is so tender, filled with so much love as tiny fingers run through his hair, tension dissipating from his shoulders with each comb through. “It’s mine. And I’m telling you that you do deserve me,”

“Do I?” he chokes out brokenly, voice cracking and barely above a whisper. And the look on his face, azure eyes glazed with a thick shield of tears as they desperately search your face, chin trembling almost violently as he swallows a pitiful whine, pierces your heart; and you swear you can feel it shattering into a thousand little pieces, puncturing the surrounding organs and making your whole chest ache.

“Yes,” you whisper, tiny hands flexing on either side of his face as you grip him tighter, blinking rapidly to clear your own vision. “Yes,” you repeat, louder, stronger, fiercer, silencing whatever he was beginning to respond with by crushing your lips against his.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you’re murmuring between kisses, spit slicked lips sliding against his as he sobs into your mouth.

“I love you,” he mumbles against your lips, voice raspy with tears. “I love you, I love you,”

And, truly, you’re the only thing holding him together at this point—have been the only thing holding him together for a long time now. You’re the glue that keeps his life from falling apart, you’re the stitches that keep his very soul intact, sewing him back together each and every time he begins to unravel, keeping him complete, keeping him whole.

Fingernails dig into the skin of his cheek as you hold him in place, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and nibbling, relishing in the quiet, broken moan you pull from him. A little tongue laps at the salty tears staining his cheeks, licks along his jaw as his hands grip the meat of your ass, trying to pull you closer as he breathes out your name.

“I love you,” you whisper, words punctuated by kisses down the column of his neck. “So much,”

A whine gets stuck in his throat, head tilting to allow you more access to move as large hands paw at the hem of your dress, rucking it up around your waist. Something pokes you, prods you, pushes up into you through the thick, rough denim of his jeans, and you inhale sharply, instantly consumed by overwhelming need—the need to feel him, hot and pulsing and driving into you, the need to make him feel better, to make him forget, to remind him that you’re his, and he’s yours, the need to be claimed.

It hits your like a fucking freight train, burns through your veins and shoots straight to your core, sharp spikes of heat that have you huffing out his name.

“I need you,” the words are whimpered against inky skin as you grind desperately against his hard cock, clawing at his chest, his biceps, his belt. “Niichan, I need you,”

“Yeah, baby?” he pants into your mouth, hands kneading your nylon covered thighs as he presses his clothed cock against your core, forcing a mewl of his name from your throat.

“Yes,” you cry pathetically, and it’s almost too much, the scalding, throbbing heat collecting between your thighs, hips gyrating in quick little circles as you try to alleviate some of the tension coiling tightly in the pit of your stomach. “Yes, yes, need you t-to fuck me, to—” a sharp gasp cuts you off as he bites into your shoulder, growling darkly against your skin. “—To fill me up, to remind me who I belong to,”

Strong, lithe fingers tear into your thin tights, hooking into the holes they create and ripping the delicate material. Dark eyes flit down, rabidly scanning your clothed little cunt, white lace soaked and stuck to you, outlining your folds. Touya chuckles, delivering a superficial slap with the back of his hand before pushing your panties to the side.

Niichan, niichan, you’re whining out the honorific, fingers tangling in his sweater and tugging roughly as his digits caress your slit, urgently shaking your head.

His lips tug down. “Baby, you know I—”

“No!” you pout, eyebrows knitted together, Touya’s eyes flashing dangerously at being so rudely cut off. “I don’t want your fingers, they aren’t enough,” Because the need to be filled, to be stretched, to be owned is almost voracious now, desire clawing at the pit of your belly. “Mark me, claim me, breed me, I-I’m yours,” you’re wailing, cunt achingly empty, the pulsing in your clit nearly too much to take.

A snarl rumbles in his chest, large hand snaking around your bent leg, wedging between your thigh and calve and gripping the back of your knee, hitching the leg closest to the center console up in one swift movement and planting your foot on the console box, thighs stinging from the sudden stretch.

One of your hands latches onto the handle above the door while the other clutches his shoulder, nails digging into the muscles through the knit of his sweater while he fiddles with his belt, squirming a little and shoving his jeans down to his knees.

Not a second is wasted as the head of his cock nudges against your fluttering hole, and then he stills. He wants you to beg, needs to hear you beg, and so you do, high-pitched and whiny as your hips instinctually wiggle.

“Please, niichan, please! Want it, need it, need you,”

And then he’s shoving himself into you, a hiss slipping from between your teeth, familiar, welcomed tears springing into your eyes, a guttural groan catching in his throat.

It stretches, aches, stings so good, so right, so perfect as he bottoms out, pressed snugly against your cervix, and pauses for a moment, cock twitching inside of you, strong hands on your hips preventing them from rocking forward and forcing you to just feel him for a second, every inch of him, buried deep inside you. The sigh that falls from your lips is nothing short of dreamy, mumbling about feeling whole again, and he chuckles.

Yeah, that’s right, princess. Only niichan’s cock can fill you up like this.

His thrusts start gradual, fingers flexing on your hips as they dig into the sensitive flesh, forcing you to slide nearly all the way off his cock before pushing you back down, hips pressing up to meet yours, cockhead grinding against your cervix as he stuffs himself in your cunt, gaining a little more speed with each motion.

No one but niichan could ever make you feel like this.

The words are whimpered between fierce, messy kisses, between ravenous, devouring kisses, between the clacking of teeth and the slurping of tongues, glistening saliva, sticky and sweet and laced with the taste of blue fire and Marlboros dripping off your chin.

And he needs to hear it—needs to know that you belong to him and only him, needs to know that you want him and only him, needs to know that only he is deserving of you, worthy of you—so you tell him, in breathy little whines, that no, no one could ever make you feel this good; yes, niichan’s the only one that can fill you up this fully, this wholly, this rightly, eyes rolling back and sharp cries echoing through the car as he pounds into you, deep little grunts falling from his lips in time with each snap up of his hips.

“Tell niichan—ah, fuck—tell niichan how badly you need his cum,”

Senseless babbling flows freely from your lips the instant he asks for it, forever incapable of disobeying a direct order from him—please niichan, need your cum so bad, need to feel it in my belly, need to feel it in my brain, please, give it to me, give it to me, give it to me!

“Christ,” he chokes out, hips beginning to falter, muscles bulging and tensing as he forces you to keep bouncing on him, hard and fast and deep. “Cum with me, baby,” he nearly begs, voice more wrecked than you’ve ever heard it before, inspiring a whole flock of butterflies in your tummy. “Be a good girl and make a—make a mess all over niichan’s cock,”

And it’s the sense of desperateness, of urgency, of sheer neediness sown deep into his broken voice that has you spasming around him, that evokes an orgasm so intense it makes you choke on your own scream as it slashes through you, gurgling on spit and tears as violent tremors course through your body.

Hot, thick spurts of cum fill you, your name escaping his lips in a cracked whine, his hips continuing to lazily roll against yours as you milk him for every drop of cum he’s got, as you beg him for more, more, more.

Overwhelmed by emotion, you collapse against his heaving chest, hiccupping out pitiful little sobs between your harsh breathing, and he hushes you, fingers petting your sweaty hair as he murmurs against your scalp—shh, it’s alright, he’s here, he loves you, you’re his, and you did so well.

“Do you want to leave?” the question is uttered softly, after your breathing has calmed to tiny sniffles, voice so genuine it’s almost painful, curled up in his arms as your bare cunt presses against his pelvis, cum still leaking out of you. “Just say the word and we’ll go, baby,”

Swallowing thickly, he’s silent for a moment, considering. Patiently, you wait, nuzzling comfortingly against his neck and licking at the sweat pooled in the dip of his collarbone. When he speaks, his voice is low and rough, laced with a hint of disbelief.

“Really?”

You pull back to gaze at him.

“Yes, really,” you whisper, catching a tear with the pad of your thumb and placing a soft kiss against his cheek. “You are more important to me than anyone else in that damn cabin by far, and I don’t care if it upsets them—if you want to leave, if you need to leave, we’ll leave. Say the word, and I’ll drive back, pack our shit, and we’ll be gone. You don’t even need to get out of the fucking car,”

Shining sapphire eyes study your face intently, searching for any sign of hesitancy, finding nothing but sincerity.  

“I love you so much,” he laughs wetly, more glistening tears escaping his eyes with the motion. “So fucking much,”

Tingling warmth blossoms in your chest at his words, at his laugh, conjuring a watery smile of your own as you pepper his face with kisses, soft lips ghosting across his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids and forehead until he becomes too impatient, large hands cupping your jaw and pressing your wandering lips against his.

Giggles erupt from your throat, and he’s sure that’s what liquid sunshine sounds like, allows the noise to wash over him, to bathe him in your everlasting light, to warm him to his very core. A little tongue darts out to lick teasingly along the seam of his lips, evoking an involuntary smile of his own before his tongue escapes to meet yours, another precious squeal of laughter echoing through the car.

Yes, he thinks, as your laughter vibrates against him, arms tightening around your waist as he cradles you against his chest. This is what love feels like.

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya #dabi #AAAAAAAH okay #this made me cry lol #idk if it'll make u cry but it made me cry #anyway merry christmas eve i love u lots!! <33 #tw pseudo-incest

[kenzumekodma]

18+ only, minors do not interact

pairing: shouto todoroki x fem!reader, politician au

warnings: power imbalance, degradation, oral (m receiving), fingering, cum swallowing, finger sucking, teensiest bit of praise, one instance of canadian spelling

summary: if this was going to happen, you might as well commit to it. there were worse people to fuck on a monday morning than shouto todoroki.

wc: 2.5k

His father’s the highest ranking politician in the prefecture, you remind yourself. Just grit your teeth and bear it.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Shouto. No, he didn’t like you, was more like it. Ever since you took on the job as his assistant you’ve shouldered this feeling that absolutely seeped from him, this feeling that he was inherently superior to you and you were nothing. A means to an end.

At first his quiet indifference bothered you, but as the weeks wore into months, into nearly a year… really you just stopped giving a shit. Sure, you’d gone into this job bright eyed and bushy tailed, answering with a quick yes sir, no sir to any questions he asked you. Slowly, though, your energy dropped, your output matching Shouto’s.

Coming into your work anniversary, a time when you’d imagined you’d be kicking your feet up for a night and enjoying a lighter workload, if not a night off, you walked into the office to a more chaotic scene. You groaned into the plastic lid of your to-go coffee. The hot liquid was your only saving grace. Closing your eyes for a moment, you took a deep breath through your nose, steeled yourself as you held it for a few seconds, and then exhaled through your mouth, lips closed into a small ‘o’. With renewed nerves, you open your eyes and walk into the elevator, making your way towards Mr. Todoroki’s office.

Large solid walnut doors met you a few short strides away from the elevator. Balancing your coffee, Mr. Todoroki’s tea, and your work bag precariously but with the confidence that comes with practice as you turned the brushed bronze handle. As expected, Mister Perfect was sat behind his desk. Larger than it really needs to be, you thought, like so many things tend to be when you’re living off the bank of Daddy’s Popularity.

“What’s all the fuss about downstairs?” you asked, setting Shouto’s tea down on the coaster he had waiting for it, just like he had every day for a year. He shrugged.

“Elections are coming up. My old man wants me to run for a seat on council.”

You nodded. “And that’s why I woke up to an email this morning from Endeavor offices saying Mr. Todoroki Sr. is scheduled to come by at 10:30 today with exactly zero context.” Shoto nodded once.

“There’s no point in stopping him. He has the knowledge and I need it, I guess.”

You sighed, resigned to planning a last minute visit for the man who’s effectively your boss’s boss.

“It’s too bad,” he started, pausing to take a sip of tea. Deadpan expression still resting on your face, you quirk a brow at him, a silent what? hanging in the air. “Too bad that my old man will have to see you like this. You’ve changed since he hired you for me,” Shoto said as he stood, tea placed flawlessly in the centre of its coaster. He stalked around the desk, getting ever closer to you. Instinctively, you went to place your coffee on the desk, but you caught yourself, putting your work bag on the floor, bending to pick up your planner from it. You missed Shouto’s eyes grazing down the back of your form, hesitating at your thighs, where their plushness was accentuated by the hem of your tight, light grey skirt digging in slightly. You slid your planner onto the luxury desk, using it as a makeshift coaster for your cup.

The corner of Shouto’s lip turned up almost imperceptibly. “You used to be so polite, y/n.” He took another step towards you and you froze in confusion.

“I…” you trailed off.

“You what?” he goaded, getting closer to you again. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the aforementioned not giving a shit, maybe it was the surprise stress of Enji Todoroki’s insistence on the election, but you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding and speak your mind to your boss for the first time.

“I just, I know that you think of me as lesser, and it’s true. I am. I know that, you know that. You’re political royalty and I’m just trying to make rent. So what’s the point in trying to get you to respect me with pretty words?”

“Lesser, is that so?” he murmured. He was upon you now, slender hand reaching out to take your chin between his thumb and the knuckle of his forefinger. A mixture of confidence and careful carelessness swirled behind Shouto’s heterochromatic eyes. Bicoloured hair slipped from its place to frame his sculpted cheekbones as he looked down at you.

“I’m a means to your end, and likewise for you. If we’re going to use each other we should feel good too, right? Now, wouldn’t you say the best place for inferior little girls like you is on their knees?” His eyes flickered to your lips, to your eyes, to your lips again. The last three honeyed words dripped from his lips and straight to your panties making you clench around nothing. The span of four minutes and he’d already flipped everything you thought about him on its head.

In your doe-eyed stupor you hadn’t even noticed how fucking wet you’d gotten although it was undeniable when your thighs rubbed together as you shifted your weight back and forth.

“Well?” Shouto asked, voice quiet. You nodded, bringing his hand up and down with your face. He patted your cheek. “That’s what I thought. Down,” he commanded. Shame rose in you as you dropped to the floor, flush crawling up your neck making you feel as red as half of your boss’s hair.

You looked up at him for further instruction to see him unbuttoning the top two buttons of his expensive linen shirt. Instinctively you lifted your hands to unbuckle his designer belt, but he swatted them away.

“What makes you think you’re worthy of touching anything of mine? This costs more than your salary,” he sneered.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“Sorry what?”

“Sorry, Mr. Todoroki,” you corrected yourself.

“Not quite. Try again,” he tutted. You felt the heat rise from your neck to your cheeks, causing you to turn your gaze downward.

“Sorry, Sir,” you mumbled.

“I can’t hear you all the way down there. Speak up,” Shouto demanded.

“I, I’m sorry Sir,” you said, louder this time and with more confidence. If this was going to happen, you figured you might as well commit to it. There were worse people to fuck on a Monday morning than Shouto Todoroki.

“Better,” he said approvingly. He slipped his buckle and belt off with ease, unbuttoning his charcoal grey slacks. Your eyes followed his hands downwards and it finally hit you just how big of a dick print was practically staring you in the face. He pulled up the once tucked in shirt tails and bunched them up around his toned stomach. Agony, his pace freeing his cock was absolute agony. His length was impressive, on the longer side of anyone you’d been with before. And his girth. It was a lot like the man himself, surprisingly thick but beautiful. The vein running along the underside of his cock made your mouth water with anticipation.

He let it out of his hand and it rested heavily on your lips.

“Please, Sir…” you said, licking your lips just enough to tease him with the sensation of your tongue. Shouto bit back a groan but nodded his head. You gave his cock an exploratory lick up the underside. A low noise rumbled in his chest, which you took as encouragement to continue. Hesitantly, you lifted a hand up to his waist and dragged your nails down his abdomen lightly, causing him to weave his fingers through your hair and grip tightly. God forbid the political Prince Charming be anything but in charge.

He guided your head up an inch or so. Holding his length in his other hand, he tapped the flushed tip against your cherry lips and you comply, parting them without a thought in your head besides Shouto’s cock. You close your mouth around his head and suck lightly, savouring the ever so slightly salty taste of his precum against your tongue. Shouto guided your head back for a better view.

He’s been watching and waiting for months, wondering what your lips would look like wrapped around him with every sharp barb that rolled off your tongue. The reality of it was better than he’d imagined. The silky wetness of your mouth just fueled his lust further. What would your sweet pussy feel like around him? Would you let him in?

His facade faltered, and he bucked his hips into you. Your throat tightened around him and your eyes watered. Something in the way he treated you ignited a fierce competition within you. If his actions were a challenge, you took it and one upped him, taking as much of him as possible. Your nose nuzzled into the base of his cock, taking in the musky scent of his sex with every breath you tried to take. Bracing yourself with your hands on his chest, you swallowed around him. Shouto shudders and his fingers leave your scalp. He pets your hair gently, and for a split second as you looked up at him with curiosity, you saw genuine fondness written across his face. Whatever prompted it, he shoved it aside and gripped your wrists together in his larger hand, pinning them against him above your head.

His movement took you by surprise. Surprises normally caused dread to pool in your tummy. This particular surprise caused arousal to bubble inside instead, it caused you to rub your thighs together as best you could for just a tiny bit, any bit of delicious friction you could get. It wasn’t enough, and you let out a half moan, half whine sound that vibrated up Shouto’s cock.

“Pretty girl’s a little slut, huh? Likes being helpless? Keep going.” he sneered at you.

You nodded as best as you could without letting off of his dick, drool pooling at the sides of your mouth. God, the absolute debauchery of what this man would have you do for him, it made your thighs clench. Desperation evident in your actions, you moan around him, moving yourself as much as your tight little skirt would allow. Shouto shuddered and took your jaw in his fine, slender hand.

“Enough,” he hissed, pulling your mouth off of his cock. His breath came in shallow pants, the only tell that he was as affected as you were. The way you licked your lips as soon as they were unoccupied made him bite back a moan. You looked fucking delicious in that moment, a summer fruit ripe for the picking.

“Up,” he commanded. You tried your best to stand up with your balance off kilter. Really, Shouto ended up pulling you to your feet more than anything else. He turned you around, advanced on you until your ass was bumping against his desk, and then he took one step further, leaving you no choice but to shimmy up onto the surface.

“Is… is this okay?” you asked, and Shouto let out a chuckle.

“You’re just asking that now? I should be asking you instead,” he said. He leaned down and latched his lips onto your neck. “Well?” he murmured into your skin, fingers dancing at the hem of your skirt. “You wanna be my own little whore?”

“Yes… please, Sir,” you whimpered. That’s all he needed to hear to lift you up just enough to slide your skirt past the swell of your ass, letting it bunch up around your waist. He probed a finger along your covered slit. He stops at the wet patch over your aching core.

“Excited, are we?” he teases, moving your panties to the side and circling his finger around your hole, stopping just shy of dipping inside. “Tell me who this belongs to.”

“‘s yours, Sir. ‘s all yours, I’m all yours, belong to you, please, wanna be full,” you whined.

“That’s right, this belongs to me. I’m gonna take what’s mine,” he said. You didn’t know whether he meant your sopping wet pussy or your whole self but at that point you were ready to give him anything he asked for just for him to touch you, to make you cum. You let out a choked moan when he slid his middle finger unceremoniously into your fluttering walls, no longer clenching around nothing. Even one finger was a stretch for you. Not like he cared to let you get too used to it, he was more occupied with the idea of getting you to come undone on his hand.

He added a second finger and began rubbing your clit with his thumb. The urgent moans of his name and Sir, please careening from your lips sounded like the sweetest sonata he would ever hear.

“Please what?” he asked.

“Please, wanna… need to… please lemme cum,” you begged, head pressed forward into his chest.

“Let me cum, what?” Shouto goaded. “Just because you’re being fucked dumb doesn’t mean you get to forgo your manners. Remember your lesson?” he tutted, curling his finger into your bundle of nerves.

“Please, let me cum, Sir,” you gasped out.

“Go on, then. Cum.”

Your already tight muscles contracted around his fingers desperately as he stroked your spongy walls to your release. You came with a broken yelp, earning a look of smug satisfaction from the man looming over you.

He scissored his fingers once more, just to hear you mewl from the overstimulation of your fucked out cunt, your eyes scrunched shut to keep yourself grounded. The feeling of his messy fingers tapping at your bottom lip had you opening your mouth obediently.

“Keep it open,” he ordered. You opened your eyes to see Shouto had led you back onto your knees in front of him. His free hand fisted his cock inches from your face. You opened your mouth wider and looked up at him through your lashes.

“Fuck…” he groaned. Just a few more thrusts and he was painting the inside of your mouth and his fingers white with his cum.

“Close,” he said, and you close your mouth. “Clean it up.”

You sucked gently on his fingers, making sure to swirl your tongue around his knuckles and his nails, wanting nothing more than to please him, to be privy to that little bit of softness and praise you were sure he hid away for special occasions.

When his fingers were free of the mixture of your releases, he slid his fingers from your mouth and took your chin in his hand. He tilted your head to look him in the eye.

“Good girl,” he cooed. Heat rose to your cheeks at his praise, and he helped you to your feet again.

No sooner than you’d rearranged your clothing came a knock to the huge walnut doors, a deep voice booming from the other side.

“Shouto?”

#shouto todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #shouto x you #shoto x you #torodoki x reader #shouto x yn #bnha smut #boku no hero academia smut #mha smut #my hero academia smut #my hero academia #bnha #mha #notsfw

[funkyhanji]

Daddy's Perfect Cock-Slut [English | BNHA]

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia (@Horikoshi Kohei) Character(s): Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Todoroki Shouto Pairing(s): EnjiSho Rating: E Word count: 3528 CWs: Shota, Underage, Extremely Dubious Consent, Father/Son Incest, Grooming, Mind Manipulation, Childhood Trauma, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, Begging, Rough Sex, Large Cock, Cock Worship, Cock Cages, Cock-Slut Shouto, Creampie, Implied/Referenced Father/Daughter Incest, Dissociation, Dirty Talk, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Summary: - That green-haired runt [...] knew nothing about Shouto. Or about Enji. Or about their relationship and how it functioned. -

Enji's annoyed. That green-haired runt reminded him too much of All Might, with his self-righteous attitude and acting like it's his duty to go sticking his nose into someone else's business, unwanted and spewing corny bullshit. Did that kid even know who he was talking to in that way?

His Shouto doesn't need help from a kid who can't even properly control his quirk. He knew nothing about Shouto. Or about Enji. Or about their relationship and how it functioned.

[*]

It took two days for Enji to notice Shouto's catatonic state and lifeless stare. He'd been busy dealing with the paperwork necessary to hospitalize his wife after her psychotic breakdown and her attack on their youngest child. Also the press — keeping the nosy fuckers away from his family problems was of utmost importance. Good thing he showered his PR staff and lawyers in money.

It was a comment from Fuyumi which had clued Enji in on the boy's ghost-like presence around the house.

Shouto, excused from school for a couple of weeks after the incident, would be seen wandering the halls in a daze; he'd often gravitate to the kitchen or his mother's bedroom, and stay there for indefinite amounts of time. He only moved when someone nudged him out of the rooms.

His son, he also came to notice quickly, was very responsive to commands in that state. As if his brain was more than happy to be given directions or orders to follow.

Any sort of command.

«Stop right there, Shouto,» Enji ordered one day, seeing the boy walking down the corridor in front of his open studio door. Shouto did as told, making Enji hum, curiosity piqued. «Come in Shouto, and close the door.»

His son obeyed, standing just past the threshold, his face devoid of any real expression and a haunted look in his eyes. It was disconcerting, Enji had to admit, but the cooperativeness was pleasing after all the reluctance to follow directives Shouto had shown since they'd begun his training.

«Come to me, boy,» he said, waving him over. «And speak, I'm tired of you playing mute.»

Shouto slowly crossed the distance, halting beside the chair Enji was sitting in. «Father.» His voice was scratchy from disuse and a bit dull, but it was still an improvement over the contempt it held before.

Something could be bettered though.

«Call me 'Daddy', boy,» he ordered.

«Yes, Daddy.»

The word sent a shiver down Enji's spine. Something wicked and dark—a desire to claim what was his on the most base level — awakening inside him for the first time in months, maybe years. Rei wasn't here to stop him, this time; she wasn't here to distract him with her own body, or to send Fuyumi his way in her stead.

Shouto was all his for the taking, now.

«Your Mommy was taken away because of you, Shouto. And since you're the reason she's not here anymore, it'll be your job to do everything Mommy did for Daddy. Do you understand, Shouto?»

«Yes, Daddy. I'll do everything Mommy did for Daddy, because it's my fault she was taken away.»

The smirk slashing through his face was nothing but sinister.

«Good boy.»

They were in Rei's bedroom, alone and with the door locked. It wasn't necessary, frankly: his and his wife's rooms were on a different side of the house from his kids', and none of them were about to come looking for him, not after dinner anyway.

Enji had come out of the bathhouse to find Shouto once again in his mother's room, gaze lost like a kicked puppy.

Defenseless. Adrift.

And Enji was there, because it was easy to take advantage of a traumatized child when you use the excuse of providing him with an anchor, a grounding touch.

He spread out Rei's futon on the tatami mats — a half-empty bottle of lube rolled out of it as well —, sat down with his legs loosely crossed in front of him and reached out a hand toward Shouto. His other hand undoing the knot of the towel at his hips.

«Here, Shouto, come sit in my lap,» Enji ordered.

«Yes, Daddy.» Shouto plopped down in the circle his legs made, back straight and blinking slow, breath even.

He didn't protest when Enji took his hand in a gentle hold, brushing a large thumb over the white knuckles; he didn't protest when Enji cradled the bandaged side of his face in his other hand. He didn't try to back away, as Enji coaxed his jaws open and delved two thick fingers inside, the rough pads gliding over a soft tongue and gums. Back and forth, deeper at each passage and full of intent.

A flush began to creep onto Shouto's cheeks; his breath humid as it puffed over the back of Enji's hand, a spark flickering to light in his uncovered eye.

He brought his son's hand toward his groin, pleased to see him follow the movement, gaze focusing on the swelling cock nestled in dark crimson curls. A shiver coursed through Shouto's thin frame as his fingers made contact, a sigh escaping parted pale-pink lips.

«Daddy...» Shouto whispered, muffled by Enji's digits still in his mouth.

«Go on Shouto,» Enji said, letting his hand fall from the boy's face, setting it at his slim waist. «You remember what to do, right?»

Shouto nodded, too lost in the moment to respond verbally, but it was fine.

Enji picked up the lube, squirting some in the boy's palm. Cold fingers wrapped around his length — barely long enough to circle the girth of it even when limp — and stroked, the touch tentative, trembling but growing surer at each pass. The push and pull of the foreskin as it glided over the head, the stiffening of the cock under his fingertips seemed to entice Shouto. His pupil dilated the harder Enji got, the blush on his face darkening at each of Enji's pleased hums.

«Good, Shouto,» Enji praised. He groaned when his son's other hand joined in the stroking, the dual sensation of hot and cold enclosing his cock feeling nice on his burning skin. «Put more strength into it, boy.»

«Yes… Daddy,» Shouto whispered, sounding winded as his whole body shifted with his movements. Sweat started beading at his hairline from the extersion and the heat radiating off of Enji.

«Remember, Shouto, this is your duty now. Taking care of my needs, of my cock, is your responsibility.»

«… Because it's my... fault Mommy's not… here anymore...»

«That's right.» Enji smirked, dripping corruption and lust unbecoming of a hero. «Get your mouth down there, c'mon. Like I told you.»

Once the bandages came off his face and Shouto was cleared by the doctor to go back to school, the vacancy in his stare finally began to recede day by day. He no longer wandered around the house like a ghost and he talked more often, as stilted and curt as his sentences were.

A positive thing, according to the majority of people Enji spoke to — a phrase which never failed to make him raise an eyebrow. He could understand such naivety from Fuyumi, but from adults who should know better than to sweep PTSD and trauma under the rug? Bullshit. They were just trying to appease him, Endeavor, the #2 Hero.

They were lucky that worked perfectly for Enji.

He could do without the new-found sparks of defiance in Shouto's eyes whenever they crossed paths or trained in the dojo, sure, but in was worth it when all the fight bled out of his tiny frame at the first glimpse of Enji's cock. He knew playing his hand while the boy was in a malleable state would be beneficial in drilling some key concepts in his brain.

«That was weak, Shouto! Fuyumi could have punched harder than that!» Enji reprimanded, eyes narrowed in Shouto's direction at his poor attitude.

He received a glare from the other side of the dojo, Shouto then kicking the dummy in the dick with an angry yell. Enji almost rolled his eyes at the display, but a sudden groan caught his attention.

«Ah— nnh…!»

Shouto was squirming where he stood, face pinched in discomfort and the heel of one hand carefully rubbing at his groin. Ah, Enji thought, it's the cage isn't it. Of course it was — it'd been only a week since Enji had put it on Shouto; he wasn't used to it yet.

«Stop touching it, Shouto,» Enji said. «It won't help—»

«Shut up! Take it off of me!»

Enji stood up, growling low and stalking toward his son. He gripped a fistful of bi-colored hair and shoved Shouto's face into his crotch none too gently, grinding him against his clothed, soft cock. Any protest died quickly. A breathy moan warming Enji's bulge, which twitched in interest as Shouto nudged his nose further into the crease between his thigh and pelvis.

«I told you not to touch the cage, Shouto,» Enji said, looking down at the boy.

«Mmkay,» Shouto muttered into the fabric of his sweatpants; his tiny arms embracing Enji's waist. «Daddy… wanna…»

«What do you want?»

«Daddy's… Da— haa!-» Enji rubbed a knee over Shouto's trapped little dick- «cock! Nnnh— Daddy's cock! P-Please...»

Enji chuckled. «And what d'you wanna do with it, mh, Shouto?»

Shouto looked up at him, flushed face and eyes swimming with desire to please. Enji could imagine the boy's mind quickly being overtaken by thoughts of his cock; touching it, stroking it, feeling its weight and warmth on his tongue — the way he'd been primed to in the weeks after the incident.

«S-service you— ah! — Daddy… please!»

«Since you're being so polite-» Enji patted his head, then undid the pants' drawstring and pulled them down enough for his cock to bounce free- «go ahead.»

Shouto's eyes light up, a needy whine falling from pink lips. «Thank you Daddy!»

He delved right in, mouth parting to suckle on the head, tongue sneaking under the foreskin and swirling around it like an ice-cream cone. Popping off the tip, Shouto moved down the hard length, kissing and licking every pulsing vein all the way to the base; he coated Enji's cock in saliva to ease the stroking of his small hands while he nuzzled up to the sac under it.

«Suck on those, boy,» Enji grunted, a large hand on the nape of Shouto's head. «That's where you came from.»

Shouto's tongue lapped at his heavy balls with careful brushes, lips puckering over the sensitive skin, sucking gently. Over and over, he kissed Enji's sac with something akin to reverence in both his touches and his eyes. His breath was humid and hitching as he worshiped Enji like the all-consuming being he was.

A low rumble reverberated in Enji's chest, his palm caressing red-and-white hair in silent appreciation. «Yeah… like that, Shouto. You like Daddy's cock, don't you?»

Shouto moaned, long and trembling with need. «Ah! I… I-I— yes! Like-» his lips attached to Enji's cock-head once again, drinking up the pre-cum oozing from it and mewling- «mngh— l-love it Daddy!» He rutted against Enji's leg, no doubt trying to find relief for his tiny dick trapped in that cage.

«Good boy. Now back to sucking.»

Enji unceremoniously pushed Shouto's parted mouth down on his twitching cock, fucking into it fast but controlled, thrusts shallow as his son let himself be used. Flushed cheeks hollowing and puffing out in time with his movements, and small hands cupping his balls, it didn't take long for Enji to feel himself starting to cum.

«Here it comes, Shouto,» he groaned, fingers dipping into the boy's nape to keep him still. «My seed— shit! Ngh!— don't spill any!»

Shouto's muffled assent sent jolts of pleasure up his cock, pushing him over the edge until he was dumping a load of scorching cum down the awaiting throat. Shouto drank and drank, lips tightening around his length to coax out every drop.

The sight alone — of Shouto's still-developing Adam's Apple bob — arousing him enough he could go for a second round immediately. «Like mother, like son: she loved to guzzle it down too.»

«Quit your squirming, dammit!» Enji growled, a rough palm on his son's hip.

«Nooo…! Back— put it back Daddy! Too empty...» Shouto cried.

Enji ignored the whining and the wriggling hips, too busy trying to reach for the lube one-handed, to appreciate the desperation Shouto was showing. At last managing to pop the bottle open, Enji poured the lube over the boy's slightly puffy hole — a huff of laughter escaping him at the squeak it earned him — and sank a finger inside.

Shouto's body shivered, no longer fighting. «Daddy...»

«Yeah,» Enji said. His digit moving back and forth, taking stock of how prepped his son's ass was after pulling out the plug which had been stretching him. «This is better, mh? A minute without something filling you up is unbearable, isn't it.»

The only answer he got was a whorish moan and Shouto pushing back into his hand.

Enji had introduced butt plugs around three months into his molding of Shouto into his personal, perfect cock-slut. He'd been dreaming about fucking his son well before Rei had snapped and gotten herself locked away in a hospital, and after teaching Shouto how to pleasure him with his mouth, Enji had decided it was time he started training that cute, round ass to take his cock. It'd been a couple of painstakingly long years. Years filled of better and better blowjobs, thigh-fucking — and occasional Fuyumi-fucking, because sometimes he missed the familiar feeling of a cold and wet pussy soaking up his boiling-hot cum —, and the slow-increasing girth of butt plugs up Shouto's hole.

The wait was finally over.

Enji was already rock-hard at the prospect of sinking balls-deep in Shouto.

His son seemed eager as well; spine curving sharply upward, hands gripping the futon under his shaking body in a vice. «Hhhnggh…!! O-oh! Da-Daddy! More— aah!— moreee!»

Enji smirked, a second finger pushing alongside the first to scissor and loosen Shouto; a third was quick to follow, and a fourth, the blushing rim stretched deliciously around his fingers, shiny with lube and fluttering. Enji shifted his hand back a little, calloused pads prodding at his son's prostate, licking his lips at Shouto's shocked yell. He kept up the touch until Shouto's walls were quaking and he was orgasming with his ass, his little caged dick limp but twitching uselessly over the sheet.

«Look at that, Shouto, you mastered the art of cumming like a woman,» Enji praised, fingers popping out of the boy with a squelch.

Shouto was out of it, drowning in post-coital bliss. «… Like a wo… man… did good?... Daddy…?»

«Yes, you did good. So good, you deserve my cock.»

Shouto didn't have time to say anything, Enji lubing himself up quickly and thrusting inside the small body in the next minute. Both moaned, when he bottomed out, then he pulled the boy up to sit on his thighs. Hands at a slim waist — leaving bruises on the milky-white skin —, Enji began ramming Shouto onto his cock at a brutal pace, the slapping of skin on skin loud and obscene, a nice background to the gritty grunts and the breathless mewls they made.

«How's Daddy's cock, mh, Shouto?»

«Mmngh! Aaah! Oh— l-l-loooove it…! Daddy!! Oh! Hhhgaah— yes! Cock!! Co— AH!»

Shouto was a mess of snot and tears and drool, with barely enough functioning brain cells to form words while he was mercilessly bounced on Enji's cock. His guts were speared continuously, his stomach visibly bulging every time Enji thrusted into him; his prostate was brushed against over and over to the point of pain, but Shouto kept moaning and sobbing in pleasure like Enji had molded him to—a slut for anything Daddy's cock gave him.

And Enji made sure to tell him.

«What a... whore! Happy to be a— ngh— rag-doll in my grasp...  just to get my— shit!— cock. Ready to crawl— haa!— on your knees and choke on it! You're a bitch in heat, Shouto— my bitch. My cock-slut!»

«Yours, yes! Yesyes! Slut— AH! DADDY! AH! AH!»

Shouto orgasmed again, body like jello in Enji's hands as he shook and shuddered and pissed all over the futon. He kept up his onslaught anyway, fucking up into Shouto through his walls' clenching down on him until he was cumming violently inside, still thrusting while he rode it out, uncaring of the seed spilling down his cock and adding to the nasty mess.

«Thank… you… Daddy...»

«Mmh, good boy, Shouto.»

[*]

He sees his son walk towards him, on his way to compete in his first match. «Shouto,» he calls, «I'm expecting to see you use your fire today.» Shouto scowls, seeming determined to ignore him and that won't do for Enji. He steps in front of his son, blocking the passage with his large frame; this time it's him who ignores Shouto's gritted «Get out of my way». He bends at the waist until their faces are as close as can be with Enji's quirk active. «I put up with this defiance at home,» he says. «but here and now? It's going to ruin your performance and I won't have that.» «Fuck o—» Shouto starts, only for the words to die out as soon as he sees Enji unzip the fly of his hero suit and pull out his limp cock. He smirks. The change in demeanor is instantaneous: Shouto's pupils swell, black overtaking gray and blue irises; his jaws grow slack and his lips part; a rosy tint blossoms on his cheeks. Tense shoulders sag. In the next second, Shouto's on his knees in front of him. «Daddy...» he whines. «Aah, that's better,» Enji says. He reaches out, weaves his large hand in bi-colored hair. A low moan leaves his son's throat. He can practically see the saliva gathering on the boy's tongue in anticipation, can see him squirm on the floor as the seconds pass by. Shouto moves closer, nosing at the crimson pubes at the base of Enji's cock but not touching the half-hard shaft. He wasn't given permission to yet. «Need your Daddy's cock to calm down, mh?» Enji teases. «Like a baby with his pacifier-» with his free hand, he strokes himself, quickly growing fully hard at the sight of Shouto panting and sniffing at his crotch like a dog- «wanna be a good boy for Daddy?» Shouto nods wordlessly, slowly humping his boot and Enji can vaguely feel the chastity cage rub on him through Shouto's clothes. «Yes! Yes, please Daddy...! Please, your cock— oooh I want it! Daddy, please... pleasepleaseDa— mgahghn!» Enji grabs a fistful of white-n-red hair and pulls on it, shoving his cock past slack jaws without hesitation. «Suck Shouto,» he orders. Shouto moans around him. His hands grope Enji's thighs, blunt nails digging into the muscle as an anchor while he starts bobbing his head over the massive length. His tongue swirls around the shaft in just the right way to make Enji groan; Shouto's throat constricts as he's swallowed past his son's gag reflex, the vibrations from the mewls travel all the way up Enji's spine. His son's mouth is perfect. «Yeah, that's more— nngh— like it! Fuck, Shouto— you love my... cock mh? That's a good whore—» Wet and tight around him — it almost reminds him of Rei's and Fuyumi's pussies. «Cool yourself down a bit boy,» he grunts. When his son does as told, Enji moans at the feeling and fucks himself deeper, harder past Shouto's lips—they're stretched and puffy and red, with drool oozing down his chin. Shouto chokes on his cock yet keeps working it like the greedy slut he is. He ignores the tears running down his flushed cheeks and the snot mixing with his spit and Enji's pre-cum. His face looks dazed and Enji knows Shouto's brain is mush right now: the only words blaring in there are "COCK" and "DADDY" and "DADDY'S CUM". Exactly the way Enji wants him. It's what Enji's taught him ever since Rei had disappeared from the house, eight years ago-and his youngest cock-sleeve has grown up to be exceptionally great at giving head. The most talented at it since his mother. «Take Daddy's spunk, you slutty boy!» Enji says through gritted teeth as he feels himself getting close. He rips Shouto's mouth off him, gripping his cock and stroking himself quick and harsh until his balls draw up and he's throbbing in his own fist. «Open up and say— fuck!— thank you!» Shouto whines, swollen lips parted and tongue lolling out, waiting to be fed. It's enough to push Enji off the edge. With one last stroke, he's cumming, the thick ropes of seed landing on his son's eager tongue as well as on the bridge of his nose and his left cheek. He milks his orgasm to the last drop, staring down at Shouto with a dark glint in his eyes as the boy slurps up all the cum sizzling on his face. «Thank you Daddy...» Behind him, Present Mic's voice calls for Shouto's name.

#todocest #enjishouto #todoroki enji | endeavor #todoroki shouto #bnha #rarepair #funkys fics #guess who randomly decided to change theme of this blog lol #and to post the fics I've written since The PurgeTM #maybe #I honestly forgot how annoying it is to format here from AO3

[kiriluvbot]

vintage red

hanta looks like he already knows, and shouto wants chases that light in his eyes.

he wants and he wants and he wants.

he settles for this: “can i kiss you?”

or; first kisses in the quiet of sero’s bedroom.

—

it’s a funny thing, to love someone.

it’s tearing down walls and dusting the shelves of your heart to make room for them. it’s gently asking them for the key to their own heart, getting cozy in the cavern of their chest.

in some cases, it happens slowly, over time with stolen glances across a room, fingers brushing under the table. or maybe it happens fast, bumping into a stranger and falling into their arms, catching a glimpse of the light in their eyes and deciding, this is it.

but for us, shouto todoroki thinks to himself, we walked right into it, didn't we, hanta?

walked hand in hand into whatever this was between them, settled down and got comfortable like it was a picnic, like it was always meant to be this way.

maybe someday— shouto turns his head a bit, sneaking a glance at hanta out of the corner of his eye. i could just lean in and—

he sits with his back against hanta sero’s wall, legs criss-crossed as pretends he’s totally not staring. hanta leans into him, possibly without even meaning to, as he flips the page of the manga they're reading with a chuckle.

there was no falling, no stumbling, no getting lost.

something must’ve been funny. shouto isn’t really paying attention anymore, too entranced by hanta thumbing the pages absentmindedly, fingers dipping beneath the black and white, knuckles shifting with the movement. it’s a small thing, a thing shouto had never really noticed until these last few months, never really noticed until they started sitting this close, until shouto started seeing hanta in a new light.

and suddenly this close isn't close enough.

shouto kinda wants to kiss those knuckles. maybe hold his hand, but he stays still, never pushing too far, never pulling too hard, always watching. always listening.

hanta mumbles the dialogue under his breath. his dark hair comes untucked from behind his ear, and he lifts a hand to tuck it again.

shouto kinda wants to kiss that hand.

it’s a funny thing, to care for someone.

it’s checking for a fever when they're not looking so well, it’s watching for the darkness under their eyes to fade, it’s bringing an extra water bottle along with you.

it’s answering a phone call at midnight. it’s leaving your door unlocked. it’s leaving them a space to sleep beside you.

“another nightmare?”

“mhm.”

“come over.”

hanta shifts and their arms brush; shouto can feel his muscles move when he turns the page again. shouto’s knee presses into hanta’s thigh. shouto could just lean down and place his chin on this boy’s shoulder if he wanted.

he kinda wants to do exactly that, but he stays completely still. it’s easier to stare from this distance, anyway.

with hanta’s hair tucked back again, shouto can map the planes of his face with ease. there’s the pointedness of his brows, the roundness of his button nose. there’s his cheekbones spattered with a few freckles, then there’s the cut of his jaw, the sharpness of the bone, the dip underneath.

shouto kinda wants to kiss him there.

there’s a constellation of more freckles on his neck shouto may have seen in the sky before.

shouto kinda wants to kiss him there, too.

there’s the jewelry in his ears. there’s the darkness of his eyes, the way the colors fade from inky black to charcoal gray, and the shadows of his thick lashes. then there’s the smudge of his liner, and it’s this moment shouto realizes it’s not at all fair how beautiful hanta is.

it’s a funny thing, liking anyone at all. as ridiculous as it sounds.

hanta is saying something.

shouto doesn’t really hear it, only watching as his lips move. it’s this moment that shouto realizes he’s not at all content with sitting this close to hanta anymore, and he’d very much like just a little bit more.

a chin on a shoulder, a hand in his own, fingers running through hair.

maybe—maybe a kiss. maybe two. or three. shouto could be content with just one.

maybe.

hanta is saying something.

“we can read something else if you want,” hanta murmurs. he doesn’t turn his head, only nudges shouto with his shoulder. “or—shou, you’re not listening.”

shouto blinks. hanta is looking at him now.

“hm?”

“you’re staring.”

shouto watches as a riot of pink bleeds onto hanta’s cheeks, his shoulders tensing as hanta calls him out on his bullshit. so he was staring, sue him, but maybe it’s not the best idea to openly admit that right here and now.

“was not.”

neither of them lean away, even as hanta comes to realize just how close they really are, which is, like, really close.

“liar.”

shouto purses his lips, begs his eyes to maintain contact with hanta’s. begs his eyes not to betray him, not to fall where they really shouldn’t.

“am not.”

then hanta’s lips morph into a grin, a knowing grin, and shouto can’t help it when he steals a glance at them. one brow raises, and shouto kinda wants to kiss him there, too.

that thought is what blows shouto’s cover completely. heat crawls up the back of his neck, and he purses his lips harder as he’s sure that heat sinks into his face, into his cheeks. then hanta’s eyes flash, and the corner of his mouth quirks higher, and shouto considers hunting hanta’s parents down and personally thanking them for creating someone as breathtaking as the boy before him.

needless to say, his mind is spinning a mile a minute.

“now you're blushing,” hanta giggles—the bastard giggles —and sets the manga to the side.

it’s incredible how quick shouto went from shamelessly staring to wanting to melt into the floor with all this new, focused attention hanta is giving him. maybe he should’ve been sneakier with his staring. maybe he’s basking in the attention. maybe he did this on purpose.

maybe you’ll never know.

the statement makes shouto blush harder, despite his valiant efforts to keep the heat in his face under control. he sputters, “i’m not blushing, i’m not—“

“you totally are.” hanta’s voice is laced with a smirk, but it quivers around the edges as he leans forward just a tiny bit, not even enough for shouto to notice. he’s too busy keeping his eyes away from hanta’s lips, inviting as they are. “did i get the ever so stoic and powerful shouto todoroki to blush ?”

shouto’s mouth falls open with a small, mildly affronted gasp.

he thinks i’m stoic and powerful?

focus!

“don't be ridiculous, i’m not— “

“oh, sure,” hanta laughs at that, and it’s music to shouto’s ears, silky and airy and amazing and intoxicating. out of the corner of his eyes, shouto sees him pick up the manga again, and when he realizes hanta’s about to turn away, he panics.

“you just—“ shouto starts, unsure of what he wants to say. hanta looks at him again, stealing the air right out of shouto’s lungs. “just, um—“

“just what, shou?” he presses, pushing shouto further toward his demise. shouto wants to kiss that stupid smirk right off his stupidly pretty face. hanta’s blushing but it doesn’t even matter, because he’s calm, cool, and collected, making shouto look like a flustered schoolgirl.

the manga gets put to the side again. barely, just barely, hanta readjusts a bit so he’s somehow even closer, planting his hand on the bed beneath him. it’s—it’s too much.

shouto’s never wanted to kiss him so bad in all the years he’s known hanta. in fact, shouto’s never wanted kiss anyone this badly in his entire goddamn life.

it’s a funny thing, to have closeness and to still crave more.

so maybe shouto’s selfish. maybe he’s greedy.

he opens his mouth, the words sitting right at the end of his tongue. “hanta—“

hanta looks like he already knows, and shouto wants chases that light in his eyes.

he wants and he wants and he wants.

he settles for this: “can i kiss you?”

the boy full of stars falters, seemingly frozen in place. shouto watches as his eyes widen, as his chest heaves for a sharp breath.

so he scrambles. “please? it’s proper manners to—“

but he doesn’t get to finish, because hanta is pushing forward to close the short distance between, much less than elegantly. it takes a moment to adjust, to relax, to find a pace that matches that greedy want in shouto’s veins.

a fire burns in shouto’s chest, rages beneath his skin as hanta’s lips meld into his own. those slender, calloused hands find their place on shouto’s warm cheeks, cupping them and bringing him as close as they can possibly get without being on top of one another.

shouto grips hanta’s shirt, dizzy and electrified and out of breath.

holy shit.

it’s a supernova behind his eyelids. he’s pretty sure they both suck at this, but without prior experience, who's to say?

hanta pulls away after a moment, hands faltering and landing on shouto’s own as he tries to steady his breathing. he plants his forehead to shouto’s, then he laughs and the sound makes shouto dizzy all over again.

i just kissed him.

“holy shit,” hanta breathes, his words washing over shouto’s face. he’s so beautiful, so pure and breathtaking and shouto has no idea what to do with himself.

he just kissed me back.

“you—“ shouto starts.

“shou?”

shouto meets his eye, heart ready to crawl out of his throat. “hanta?”

in slow motion, hanta pecks shouto’s nose, and it’s so disgustingly sweet shouto can only smile like an idiot.

“i like you,” hanta murmurs, even though it doesn’t need to be said. “i really, really like you.”

and before either of them can pull away, before shouto can really say anything else, hanta cups his face again, leaning back and tilting shouto’s head up so they can lock eyes again. he can hardly see straight.

this moment is endless, immortal, untouchable.

“kiss me again,” hanta whispers, and goosebumps erupt over shouto’s arms. “please?”

it’s a strange thing, to be in love, but they figure it out together.

—

is this self indulgent? maybe. probably. the world may never know.

check it out here too !!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30211347

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #seroroki #todoroki shouto #hanta sero #seroroki brainrot #ao3 seroroki #first kiss #rarepair #friends to lovers #todoroki is completely whipped #sero likes to act like he’s all calm cool and collected but you KNOW this bitch was screaming internally #they are just so goddamn special to me

[teaplease1717]

Gosling ch 3

Here’s chapter 3 of my @bnha-fluff-week story! Thank you EmberStork for correcting.

Couple: TodoMomo

Rating: G

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19251016/chapters/45848893

Chapter 1 Link: https://teaplease1717.tumblr.com/post/185652318716/gosling-ch-1 

Chapter 2 Link: https://teaplease1717.tumblr.com/post/185677289231/gosling-chapter-2

XXXX

Operation turn Yaoyorozu back had started off as a complete failure. Hagakure had Yaoyorozu draw pictures, hoping her memories would be triggered by her subconscious. Instead Yaoyorozu had drawn a family portrait of herself and him. Ashido had hung it up on the fridge.  

Kaminari and Mineta's contribution was even less helpful. With the excuse that Yaoyorozu liked to read, they went into her room and pulled out her favorite encyclopedia. Except, the three year old could only make out the basic words and no one else understood the thick text either.

Bakugo even had tried his hand at helping by tying her hair up into its usual high ponytail – but that could have been because he was annoyed with the length more than any intention of truly helping.

Jirou had the most realistic idea, she had Yaoyorozu listen to music and when that didn't work, had the three year old sit down at her keyboard to see if muscle memory kicked in.

It didn’t.

Shouto leaned back against the couch, his eyes unintentionally drifting to find the three year old on the opposite side of the room. Koda had brought down his pet rabbit and Yaoyorozu and the rest of the class 1-A girls were currently preoccupied with it as the remaining guys sat around the couches exhausted.

Uraraka was holding Yaoyorozu's tiny hand teaching her how to properly pet the animal. At some point Ashido or Hagakure had pulled the hood up on the All Might onesie and were busy taking pictures of Yaoyorozu.

As if feeling his heterochromatic stare, Yaoyorozu’s black eyes glanced up for the hundredth time that day. Scanning the room, her face began to scrunch in worry until they landed on him and her shoulders visibly relaxed allowing Asui and Uraraka to pull her attention back to the rabbit.

Shouto swallowed over a dry lump in his throat. The tear stains from earlier were still visible on her cheeks and the guilt from it tore into his stomach like a knife. They had been taking a break and playing hide and seek. Everything had been fine until he had been 'it.' When the rest of the class had tried to lead Yaoyorozu away she had broken down, crying and begging for him not to leave her. The knife in his stomach twisted painfully at the memory of her tears soaking his shirt.

The worst part was that at that moment all he had felt was anger. Anger at seeing Yaoyorozu so desperate and scared and anger at himself for being the cause of her breakdown. Anger at just the whole situation.

Why him?

He knew it was just the quirk and the whole accident had been a coincidence but he had wanted to scream at her that this wasn't her. Yaoyorozu was brave and level headed. She wasn't driven by her emotions like him. She'd never get so upset over someone like him if she was back to her normal self. Would she?

“Well what's next?” Sero asked, breaking Shouto out of his thoughts.  Half of the class had migrated away after the incident as it became more and more apparent that Yaoyorozu was stuck until the quirk wore off.

“I don’t know, let's take a break,” Kamanari said, leaning back against the couch and looking up at the ceiling absently. "When is Aizawa coming back?"

As if on cue, Shouto's stomach rumbled. He looked at the clock on the wall and discovered that it was already late afternoon. He felt famished.

His last full meal had been at breakfast and with everything that had happened he hadn't thought to eat since. He'd just make something quick for himself. He stood up. Immediately Yaoyorozu's dark eyes darted to him. Watching as he walked into the kitchen before she allowed Jirou and Ashido to talk her back into returning to the rabbit.

Shouto sighed. It was disconcerting being the center of another's life.

He grabbed a pot from the drying rack and filled it up with water, placing it on the stove. He hoped she was okay with soba. He only knew how to make noodles and protein shakes but he doubted she would want the latter.

Shouto looked over at the girls. "Yao -Momo-chan want food?" He asked. He felt heat crawl up his neck but used his right side to counterbalance it. He had already been scolded by Ashido once for still calling Yaoyorozu by her last name. He didn't get it but sometimes it was better to choose your battles.

Yaoyorozu looked up and bobbed her head, the All Might hoodie sliding off, leaving her hair frizzy.

Shouto held back a smirk. Of course she'd want food. When was Yaoyorozu not hungry?

He opened the cabinet. Each student had their unspoken section for just their items. Shouto looked at his designated section. It was bare except for whey protein powder and a few noodle boxes. Grabbing a box of the soba noodles, Shouto paused. Yaoyorozu usually ate quite a bit, would one box be good enough? He hesitated before grabbing a second just in case.

Light footfalls stopped at the edge of the kitchen. Shouto glanced over at Midoriya.

The green haired boy shifted. He seemed nervous again, his eyes falling to the floor. “Todoroki-kun, are you okay?” he finally asked.

Shouto paused. Was he okay? He guessed he was, but he didn't know. This all felt like a test that he was failing miserably. Even before the quirk incident, he and Yaoyorozu were on opposite sides of a coin, so to speak. He'd like to think they were friends but they didn't have that much in common and hardly ever spoke outside of school.

Most of their interactions over the last three years had been Yaoyorozu sharing her textbooks with him, but that was something she would do for any of her classmates. And the few times she had invited him to study sessions, it was due to his quiet personality and the fact that they worked well together on homework.  

Admittedly, they had been hanging out more frequently ever since he had asked for her help refining his quirk. She had agreed, of course, and without hesitation because “heroes have to cheer each other on,” but outside of those training sessions, the only real time they had ever hung out was at the Ennichi festival back in first year. Still, he’d like to think they had grown closer as friends since then, but they certainly were not close enough that she would forgive him for making her cry.

Shouto looked away. It felt like an anvil had lodged itself in his stomach, holding him back from...something he couldn't name.   

“Fine…” he finally said, pouring the noodles into the water. Whatever he was grasping for wasn't clear and, as he did every time he didn't understand his own feelings, he shoved the emotion away. Compartmentalizing it to be dragged up and examined later when he was alone.

Shouto turned his attention back to his friend. Midoriya hadn't moved from the edge of the kitchen. He wrung his hands together. "It just seems like you've been on edge."

"On edge?"

"Yeah, on edge. Or not yourself." He explained hurriedly.

Shouto hummed. Perhaps he had been a bit cold since earlier?

"That's because he likes her idiot."

Shouto tensed. He hadn't heard Bakugo approach and by Midoriya's shocked and red face clearly he hadn't either. Shouto frowned. "Of course I like her, we're friends…" Shouto said, not looking at Bakugo. The statement made him feel suddenly uncomfortable. As if the word didn't fully explain the amount he trusted and relied upon Yaoyorozu.

"Eh! Todoroki likes someone?" Kaminari said, overhearing the end of the conversation.  He put his arm on Bakugo's shoulder and gave Shouto an assessing look. "How can you tell? His face never changes?"

"Mind your own damn business, sparky," Bakugo snapped. Swiping a fist at Kaminari who danced away, obviously used to Bakugo's antics.

Bakugo sneered at Todoroki. "Are you really that dense?"

Shouto didn't answer as he brought the pot over to the sink and poured the noodles into a strainer. Bakugo scoffed and walked away. Shouto could still feel Midoriya's green eyes on his back, most likely analyzing and picking apart Bakugo's words, but he ignored him as he turned on the cold water to cool down the noodles.

Shouto exhaled through his nose. “Foods ready,” he said, scooping noodles into two bowels and bringing them over to the table.

As if those words were a summoning spell, Mineta appeared out of thin air to sit down in front of the first bowel. “Oh boy I'm hungry!” He said, picking up a set of chopsticks.

Shouto swiped the bowel out from under him. “Not for you.”

“What?” Mineta asked, his face screwed up in mock hurt.

Shouto glared, unperturbed as he sat down. “Make your own.”

“Isn't Aizawa bringing food over later?” Jirou chimed in as she led Yaoyorozu over to the kitchen to wash her hands.

“Yeah, you just have to wait,” Krishima added grabbing his bag from one of the chairs. “Anyways, I got to get some studying done. I really don’t want to fail another one of Present Mic Sensei's pop quizzes.”

“You think he’s going to give us another one so soon? We just had one.” Ashido asked, her face looked pale at the thought as she walked over.

“That was three weeks ago,” Midoriya replied, sitting down opposite of Shouto. “And since half the class failed, I can’t see why he wouldn’t.”

Kaminari and Ashido moaned in unison.

"Spiky hair! Let's go! I don't got all night to cram that head of yours with English," Bakugo's eyes narrowed dangerously as he walked towards the front door.

"My hairs no more spiky then yours," Krishima sighed, rubbing the back of his head.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," Krishima turned to the rest of the group, "Well, I'll see you when Aizawa-sensei arrives. Todoroki," Krishima said, giving his usual sharp toothed smile.

Shouto nodded in understanding.

"Ugh...what will I do now that Yaomomo can't help,"Ashido said, flopping over a chair.

"I can tutor you if you are willing to pay for my services," Mineta's eyes gleamed suggestively.

"No! Gross!" Ashido snorted, kicking at the grape haired boy. "I’d rather fail!"

Sometime during the conversation, Iida's mind had short circuited. "What a dilemma! I should be a good friend and stay with Todoroki-kun and Yaoyorozu-san but my duty as class president calls for me to help my classmates in the stead of Yaoyorozu-san! What do I do? What do I do?" He finally broke with a cry.

"Calm down Iida-kun," Midoriya patted Iida's back. "It doesn't look like Yaoyorozu-san will change back anytime soon. I'm sure it's okay if you help."

"Oh Iida please tutor me!" Ashido pleaded, pressing her hands together.

"Yes! Tutor me too!" Sero said, getting up from the couch.

"Oh, I could use some help too," Uraraka said, rubbing the back of her head. "Todoroki-kun, will you be okay?”

Iida and Uraraka looked at Todoroki.

"Its fine," Shouto said, as the other students still hanging around the common area began to beg Iida for assistance as well. Iida's concerned expression evaporated, replaced with a big grin. And with an Iida type proclamation he promised to do his best to teach them in Yaoyorozu's place.

This left just four people in the common room. Todoroki, Midoriya, Jirou, and Kaminari (who Shouto wondered why didn't leave with the rest of the study group).

“What's this Todoroki,” Jirou asked helping Yaoyorozu up into the seat next to him.

“Soba. Cold,” he replied around a mouthful of noodles.

Jirou picked up the chopsticks and Yaoyorozu frowned. "I can do it myself."

Jirou looked down. "You sure? Can you use the big kid chopsticks?"

Yaoyorozu nodded. "Okay, let me know if you need help." Jirou said, moving to sit next to Kaminari.

Yaoyorozu picked up the chopsticks and after two tries was able to pick up the noodles. She took a tentative bite.

Shouto looked over and almost choked on his noodles.  Yaoyorozu's eyes had grown to gigantic proportions. Slowly she chewed and Shouto could see the wheels begin to turn in her tiny head before a huge grin spread across her face and she shoveled more noodles into her mouth.

"Hey, don't eat so fast Momo-chan. You don't want to get sick," Jirou chided, leaning across the table to pat Yaoyorozu on the back as she inhaled her food too fast. Shouto hid a smirk behind his dipping bowl.

"She's so cute. Did Yaomomo always like soba noodles this much?" Kaminari asked.

Jirou paused, twirling her ear jack around her fingers. "I don't think she's ever had them before.

"Really?" Kaminari asked shocked. Shouto paused to watch as Yaoyorozu recovered to proceed and shovel more noodles into her mouth. All proper manners seemed to have disappeared as she chewed happily. He had always thought she preferred European food. Her impeccable manners and high class lifestyle seemed to lead him to believe that. It had never occurred to him that maybe she had just never had some common Japanese dishes he had grown up with.

Well if she liked his soba, which was barely edible, he should take her to his favorite soba house. Todoroki's heart faltered. What was he thinking? They weren't that close.

"Anyways, did you like the bunny Momo-chan?" Kaminari asked.

"Yeah."

Kaminari's eyes glittered. "So who do you like more Todoroki oniisan or the bunny?"

“Oniisan,” Yaoyorozu said, without hesitation as she looked up, her face flashing in indignation at the question. Shouto contented himself with a deadpan expression as Kaminari looked across the table and winked. Jirou elbowed him in the side and Kaminari crumpled.

"Don’t ask stupid questions," Jirou hissed.

"Okay. Okay," Kaminari said holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "Sorry, what else am I supposed to ask?"

"I dunno, why not what she wants to be when she grows up?"

"Fine," Kaminari turned to look at Yaoyorozu again and smiled. "Momo-chan what do you want to be when you grow up?"

“I’m going to be oniisan’s wife.”

Shouto choked on his noodles.

Xxxx

Thanks for reading!

#bnha-fluff-week-2019 #bnha fluff week 2019 #todomomo #todoroki shouto #Yaoyorozu Momo #todoroki x yaoyorozu #My Story

[365daysoftododeku]

21st March 2019

Author: Rasha

Warning: Angst

________________________________________________________________

Marked

Shouto was six years old when his body was graced with the first sign of a soul mate. In small black ink, just above the hairline, was a single word.

You couldn’t tell what it was if you weren’t looking for it, and Shouto was ecstatic to find the word. His mother had been brushing his hair when she saw the tiny black script.

“Hey Shouto,” she cooed in his ear. “I think I just found a soul word. But it’s pretty tiny, so I can’t read it. Stay here while I go get something to read it.”

Shouto nodded enthusiastically as his mother went in search of a camera or a magnifying glass. He waited patiently in his seat for his mother to return. His mind was racing at the thought of the first clue about his soul mate. Maybe they were smart, or kind. Perhaps they were gentle or quiet. When she finally did she brought with her the family camera.

“It’s about a centimeter tall,” she said, pulling at his hair so she could see. “The font is a bit scrunched up and very bold.” The sound of a camera shutter followed by her hands leaving his hair. Shouto turned around to watch his mother’s face.

“Let’s see here,” she said pulling up the picture. “Oh. Oh no. This… oh no.”

“What? What does it say?” Did this make them mean? Were they cruel? Angry? What could make his mother’s face go as white as her hair.

She handed him the camera for him to see himself. He spelled out the word carefully.

“Quirkless,” he said. “My soul mate is-“

“Quirkless,” his mother confirmed.

Later that week when Enji found out, he took a rag and a harsh soap to the back of Shouto’s neck, hoping to scrub the word away. It didn’t work, but Shouto still had the memory of his father holding him down.

On the first day of summer, everyone at school switched over to the short sleeves of their summer uniforms. The weather was hot and sticky, wet fabric stuck to any surface, including skin. The only person in middle school who kept to the winter uniforms was Midoriya Izuku.

When he was around four years old his arms became covered in two long words, stretching out over the length of his forearms and even up to his biceps. On the left side was the word “Ice” and on the right was the word “Fire.” The two words would normally be a sign of pride! Two soul marks before he was even five! But less than a month later a third word took over Izuku’s chest, and he learned it was best to hide his marks.

“Why’s the quirkless wonder covering up?” A boy with stretchy limbs asked. His fingers tugged at Izuku’s sleeves and Izuku jumped a full meter back.

“Maybe it’s to hide,” a girl said. “What you hiding Midoriya?”

Izuku turned his back on them ready to run away when he saw the current bane of his existence walking up to the group. The appearance of Bakugo Katsuki was never a good thing under any other circumstance

“Oi,” Bakugo said in his devil-may-care attitude. “What you running from freak?”

Izuku made intense eye contact with the person he once considered a close friend and nodded once. He tugged at his sleeve as a silent message to Bakugo. Bakugo saw red. He may not have liked Izuku, but he wouldn’t stand for the other boy to be abused about his sleeves.

The couple started to laugh and point at Izuku.

“Shut it,” Bakugo screamed. His hands began to pop with the use of his quirk and the two bullies stopped short. “Deku is mine. Got it? He wears sleeves because he’s stupid. Let me get this one thing straight. Deku is quirkless. And he mumbles. And he’s weak as all hell. He doesn’t deserve to be here and the world would be better if he were gone. But no one is allowed to make fun of his clothes. Got it?”

Bakugo threw a mini explosion at the girls feet and she jumped away. The two murmured an apology before walking away. The boy bumped past Izuku. After the two had gone Izuku felt like he could breathe again.

“Thanks,” Izuku mumbled, not looking at Bakugo.

“We aren’t friends,” Bakugo snarled. “And I meant what I said. The world would be better without you.”

Izuku just nodded, but he knew he’d never do something like that to his soulmate.

In his mind he remembered the day that Bakugo stopped being his tormentor and became a protector.

“Deku,” Bakugo said pointing at Izuku’s chest. The two had been swimming in the ocean all day when Izuku’s third word had appeared. “What does “ABUSED” mean?”

Shouto had taken to wearing his hair two inches below his hair line. His father had used his soulmate against him countless times in their ‘practice sessions.’

“They will be quirkless! Meeting them will be a weakness! A death sentence upon them! If they are anywhere near a battle they will die! They’re as good as dead!”

As Enji would throw punches and kicks he would use his words to extenuate the physical pain that Shouto felt.

So he hid anything about his soulmate from sight.

It was years later when Shouto was at the end of middle school that a second word appeared. Across his ribs in giant letters was the single word “HERO.” Shouto didn’t know what to think about that, but it sent a strange feeling deep in his gut. It was a pleasant warm sensation that covered the two marks across his body, linking them to his unknown beloved.

“Why do you want to be a hero?” Toshinori asked just before the end of the summer. It was just a week before UA’s entrance exams and Midoriya was proving to be a hard worker and a fool. He had spit in the face of his his first training regiment, forcing himself to take on far more than what his body could handle. It was admirable. Stupid, but admirable.

“Because it’s important,” Midoriya said, wiping the sweat off his brow. “Everyone needs a hero, and I want to be that.”

Toshinori nodded, watching and Izuku pulled a tire out of the sand and ran back to put it on the rental truck. When the boy came back for another load, Toshinori had him stop to drink some water.

“It wouldn’t happen to have something to do with why you’re always wearing long sleeves, does it?”

Midoriya froze mid drink and pulled the bottle away from his lips. He couldn’t bring himself to face his mentor.

“Do you need a hero?” Toshinori asked, his voice dripping with concern.

“No.” Midoriya set down his water bottle in the sand and pulled off his shirt, his three soulmate words emblazoned on his body in dark amber ink. Each word was seven centimeters tall and thick. “But my destined person does. And I need to help them in any way I possibly can.”

It was a week into the school year when Izuku had an inkling for who his soulmate was. When he first saw Todoroki’s quirk he was in awe of being so close to someone so powerful. But then he started to wonder…

He watched and waited, keeping a close eye on Todoroki Shouto. It was rude to just assume someone was your soulmate, you couldn’t just walk up to them and tell them everything. But Izuku was dying to know.

“Todoroki,” Izuku called out after class one day. “May I speak with you please?”

The other student slowed down and allowed Izuku to catch up to him. They found a secluded area outside of the main school building, somewhere they wouldn’t be disturbed.

Izuku rolled up his right sleeve, showing off the prominent word. “Is this- am I- are we?”

Todoroki didn’t respond, the words turning cogs in his brain as he thought. Ice across the right arm seemed to fit him well. His mind went to his own two words, trying to assign them to Izuku. He didn’t know much about the boy, but he obviously had a quirk. But he was trying to be a hero. He was at UA after all.

“I also have fire on my other arm,” Izuku said quickly, rolling up the other sleeve. He couldn’t mention the final word on his chest without confirmation. “I don’t know if that helps.”

Todoroki’s eyes widened as he looked at both arms. Fire. Ice. It fit him well. It was almost perfect.

“I don’t know,” Todoroki said, his fingers twitching at his side. “I’m not sure. It does fit me well, but my soulmate is quirkless.”

Izuku’s arms dropped to his side.

“I’m sorry,” Todoroki said. “I know it’s vulnerable to show something like that to me, but I can’t return the favor.”

“Right,” Izuku’s voice pitched as he wondered. Does he tell? Can he show? How much of his quirk was his secret and how much was All Might’s? “I understand.”

Todoroki nodded, looking off to the side. If he had looked at Midoriya’s face he would have seen tears filling the other boy’s eyes for all the wrong reasons.

Todoroki walked away without another word, a void filling the pit of his stomach.

Midoriya crouched on the ground and clenched at his stomach. Had his quirklessness been so defining that it had made it’s way as a soul mark? How could he be so stupid? Sobs filled the area as he felt his soul mate walk away. There wasn’t a doubt in Midoriya’s mind that he had found his soulmate, but Todoroki didn’t know. Couldn’t know. Not yet at least.

The spring came and went, Midoriya’s mind filled with the boy that sat behind him. His thoughts were consumed with his soul mate, just meters away from him. But he couldn’t touch, couldn’t talk, couldn't feel him. It ate Midoriya to the core.

When the incident at the USJ came and went Midoriya’s every other thought was of his soulmate. Where was All Might? Was Todoroki ok? Am I going to die? Is Todoroki going to die? This villain is trying to kill me! Todoroki, please be ok!

When the school sports festival was announced a moment of normality hit the classroom like a breath of fresh air. No one would die there, everyone was a competitor. Todoroki would be safe.

It was deep into the festival that things started to shift. Todoroki challenged Midoriya, and Midoriya returned the challenge. They would fight for the top seat tooth and nail.

The first time they touched in the cavalry battle the world seemed to shift in Midoriya’s eyes. Everything felt brighter, every sound louder. His concerns for his competitor took over and thinking back on that moment he wondered if it was the same for Todoroki. (It was.)

The two separated, going onto the third and final round as competitors and Todoroki had enough of being left in the dark.

“Why do you look at me like that?” Todoroki demanded when the two were alone for the second time.

“Like what?”

“Like that! With the wide eyes, and the…” sadness. The word Todoroki wanted to use was sadness. But it was more than that. It was also wonder, and admiration. It was fear, patience, denial, and wonderment. When Midoriya looked at Todoroki, Todoroki felt the world looking back on him.

“I’m not trying to,” Midoriya said. “I just can’t help it.” The boy seemed to fold in on himself, trying to shy away from Todoroki in such a cramped space.

“Help me to understand,” Todoroki said, taking a half step closer to his competitor.

“Do you hate me?” Midoriya asked in a whisper.

“I should,” Todoroki said. “You’re so close to All Might, and you’re the closest I have to an equal in that sense. You’re my challenger and rival. I should hate you with every ounce of my being, but I don’t.”

“Why should you hate me because I close to All Might?”

Todoroki didn’t say anything for a moment, he wondered if he should. When he opened his mouth everything came out. His father’s rivalry and choices. His mother’s marriage and their tenuous relationship. His quirk and why it exists. Everything.

“And I shouldn’t have told you any of that,” Todoroki said, his body inching closer to Midoriya. “But I feel like it’s unfair not to. You’re so close to the person that my father made me to destroy. I’m made to take down All Might, and you’re his successor. Aren’t you.”

Midoriya nodded mutely. His eyes were darting across every inch of Todoroki’s body.

“I don’t want that,” Todoroki said. “I never did. I hate Endeavor for what he made me. I’ll never use my fire the way he taught me. I don’t need it. I’ll make my own path and become the hero that my soulmate needs.” It was the first time that Todoroki mentioned the anonymous person and it sent Midoriya into a fit of silent tears. Todoroki had the urge to kiss them away.

Todoroki noticed how close he was to Midoriya, just inches away from the other’s face. Izuku had his back to the wall and Todoroki was pressing him there. Todoroki was just moments away from kissing Midoriya and he had no idea why. He had just laid out his entire life in front of the boy, he should be feeling raw and disheartened. But all Todoroki wanted to do was hold the boy in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” Todoroki said taking a step back. “I’ll see you out there.”

“It’s your power!” Midoriya screamed. His shirt was torn revealing his two soul marks to the stadium of strangers. His fingers were broken, bloodied and in ruins. His body was exhausted and his mind racing. He needed to be at this moment, telling his soul mate the truth. “It’s your life! Don’t let anyone tell you what to do!”

A hand reached to Todoroki’s side, covering the mark that he’d never shown anyone. He felt so stupid that it had taken him this long to recognize the truth. He knew who Midoriya was to him now. The desire to kiss him was overpowered by the desire to defeat him.

Todoroki reached deep inside of him pulling at his own powers, drawing out his strength. His left side ignited destroying his clothes in the process, revealing the large characters proclaiming the truth of his soul mate.

“Thank you,” Todoroki whispered as he drew the strength to fire. Midoriya met him half way throwing his own final attack.

The explosion in the middle threw them both back in a fiery display of might. The only reason it hadn’t landed in a draw was the ice barrier behind Todoroki that caught him from flying. Midoriya wasn’t so lucky, falling out of the ring unconscious.

Anyone else would have been thrilled with such a powerful victory but Todoroki was scared. He ran for his soul mate jogging next to the stretcher that carried him off. He didn’t even stick around to hear his official announcement of his victory.

“Midoriya,” Shouto called out following his soul mate. The boy was carried to Recovery Girl. At first people tried to stop him, telling him to go to the stands to watch the fight but no one could tear Todoroki away from his beloved.

Todoroki was pushed away by the health staff with grunts of dismissal. They didn’t care that the pair were soul mates. One was injured and the other had a fight in the coming hour. Todoroki was torn, but understood. They would talk later.

“Hi.”

It was the morning after the Sports festival and Midoriya was alone with Todoroki for the third time ever.

“Hi,” Todoroki responded, feeling just awkward and terrified all at once.

The two waited for the other to start speaking with many a false start where they both spoke at the same time.

“I shouldn’t have dismissed you,” Todoroki finally got out, his heart racing in his chest. “I shouldn’t have assumed that just because my word said quirkless meant that you were quirkless.”

“I am,” Midoriya blurted without thinking. “I mean- I was. It’s hard to explain, I was such a late bloomer.” He tasted metal with the lie. “But I’ll tell you more about it some day. I don’t think I’m ready just yet.”

Todoroki nodded, looking down at Midoriya’s hand in the sling.

“How’s that?”

“I’ll live,” Midoriya said with a shrug. “It’ll be a week in the cast but nothing permanent. Just a few scars.”

Todoroki flinched.

“Hey, it’s ok! I promise.” Midoriya’s smile was wide and genuine.

“Thank you.”

“For?”

“Not giving up on me.”

“Of course not,” Midoriya said, holding out his unwrapped hand that Todoroki took. His eyes seeming to get lost in Todoroki’s for a moment. His wide grin turned silly in the moment.

And then the moment was gone and Midoriya seemed to snap awake. He withdrew his hand all too fast making them both jump.

“There’s something else,” Midoriya said quickly. “I have a third mark. It’s um… it’s difficult.”

Todoroki nodded. “It’s ok.”

“It’s on my chest,” Midoriya explained, pulling at the buttons of his shirt. He spread his uniform open revealing the haunting word.

“Oh,” Todoroki’s voice was small.

“I’m sorry,” Midoriya said. “It’s been there for a long time.”

Todoroki nodded solemnly. He had an idea for how long.

“I couldn’t tell you until I knew, and I just- you deserved to know.”

Todoroki reached out and let his fingers glide against the horrid word. He drew closer to Midoriya until he could smell the boy’s deodorant and kissed the top of his head.

“It’s ok now,” Todoroki whispered.

“It’s ok,” Midoriya echoed pulled Todoroki into a hug. The two whispered the useless mantra over and over again until it felt right.

It was ok. It would be ok. They would make it ok.

________________________________________________________________

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#Story #hetawriter #TodoDeku #365DaysofTodoDeku #TodoDeku365 #365 Days of TodoDeku #tddk #Shouto Todoroki #Todoroki Shouto #Izuku Midoriya #Midoriya Izuku #Boku no Hero Academia #BNHA #My Hero Academia #MHA #Todoroki x Midoriya #Shouto x Izuku #TodoIzu #long post

[junionigiri]

Peony Pink and Cherry Blossom Tea Ch 4: Even Though It Isn’t Real

Chapter Summary: The evening before and the morning after.

Relationship: Todoroki Shouto/Uraraka Ochako

Rating: T

Warnings/Notes: Also features Fukidashi and Todoroki Rei, aka Mommyroki~ I feel bad for Ochako in this one T_T

The car ride home is sullen and quiet. Kodai’s associate Fukidashi, a fellow with a speech balloon for a head, only speaks up briefly to ask them where they want to go.

As embarrassing is it to admit, Shouto has no idea where his secret fake girlfriend lives. He pauses for a full second to weigh his options.

He knows that to bring Ochako to his own home might be too forward. He really didn’t expect to have her spend the night at his place. Not that it’s… unwelcome. There’s more than enough room in his apartment, and he has medicines, water, a little bucket she can throw up in, anything else she might need to recover. There’s an extra futon in his room--Ochako can sleep in the nicer one, he decides--and if there’s any trouble, he can send an SOS to Yaoyorozu, who lives a couple of floors above.

Besides, to ask any of her friends where she lived at this point would be too suspicious. He isn’t prepared to answer any questions about what happened to the gala, either. In fact he quite dreads it.

In the end, he decides to give the address to his own apartment near the hospital.

“Okay,” Fukidashi says brightly, the ??? on his face turning into a (★´ω｀★)ゞ. Without further ado, the car starts moving forward. “It shouldn’t take us too long. Do you need to make any stops?”

Ochako is breathing quietly beside him. She’s stopped making gagging noises by this time, much to his relief. “No thank you. Just take us straight home.”

The kaomoji disappears, and is replaced by silent blinking ellipses that mind their own business.

The neon lights pass by the windows as they speed past progressively emptying streets. Within the quiet confines of the car, Shouto hears his phone vibrating incessantly from his jacket pocket. He knows that it’s probably Endeavor or his management lackeys. Just as likely that it could be Fuyumi or Natsu or even Iida, to whom he said nothing about his sudden departure.

No doubt a ruckus has happened at their table already. He hopes that Endeavor at least doesn’t literally burst into flame when he realizes that someone else has to give his stupid medal of honor to him.

He ignores the phone. It continues to vibrate, sending tremors to his side, making his jacket pocket visibly tremble.

It reminds him of something… someone potentially bothersome.

He feels his hand move slightly when Ochako stirs beside him and makes an odd sound. “... we home?” she slurs.

“Not yet,” he answers quietly. He touches her, strokes his left hand up to the part of her back exposed by the dress. She sighs in contentment.

There’s a moment of silence spent by her struggling to keep herself steady against the mild lurching of the car, and of Shouto watching her as if she’s a geyser about to explode.

“Shindo,” she slurs after an eerie silence, in a manner that’s neither a question nor a statement.

He stares at her. “Shindo,” he repeats just as vaguely.

She hums and keeps her eyes closed. She wouldn’t see the downright confused, practically interrogatory  gaze in his eyes, and she wouldn’t know to answer the voiceless questions running through his mind, beginning with who is he and ending with why were you in his arms and why did he look at me like I stole you from him?

Still, he knows better than to be too invasive with his questioning while she’s unwell. (He can save that for later. If the morning isn’t too awkward. Maybe.) He isn’t ready to hear the answers at this point, either. So.

Carefully, he decides on a blank, “He isn’t here.” He moves his hand down her back again, with the slightest of struggles to keep the warmth underneath his palm from burning.

“Okay,” she sighs. She leans back, finally, regains some control on her labyrinths to turn her head and to look at him with dazed, half-lidded eyes. “It’s just Shouto… good.”

He nods, but… is it really good that it’s just Shouto, Ochako? The entire night, she’s been there for him, being a good and convincing companion, unquestioningly going where he goes. Facing Endeavor and the rest of his family, and the rest of Japan without so much as a complaint. Holding his hand when it threatens to freeze over, at least five times, when Endeavor’s flames got a little too much.

And for all his mental talk to watch out for her, to keep her from being hurt, he goes and does the opposite. He’s the one who placed the stupid patch and then promptly forgot about it. Ochako was right next to him when she drank all those wines, and he did nothing to stop it. And he wasn’t there when she almost dropped on the balcony--as much as he hates to admit it, things would have been worse if Shindo wasn’t there to catch her.

He doesn’t take his eyes off of her when her eyes flutter closed and her hand lazily seeks his. Four soft fingerpads land over the back of his hand and rest there.  

“Thank you for saving me,” she mumbles quietly.

She’s facing him when she nods off. A halo made of disheveled chocolate-brown hair and the passage of blurry neon lights surrounds a round face, the pink circles on them finally glowing a calm and rosy light, different from the distressed pallour from before.

I’m sorry , he thinks in an odd despondence. You deserve someone better than me.

 *

 They reach the condominium in twenty minutes. Fukidashi helps Shouto lift Ochako out of the car, and once she’s in a safe princess carry in his arms, the doctor turns to the speech bubble and thanks him with a sincere nod of the head.

“It’s fine, Todoroki-kun,” Fukidashi says, his face going (*´∀`*). “Yui-chan doesn’t ask for favors unless it’s super important. Besides, I was a fan of yours when you were younger, ya know? Made me wish I tried out for UA Heroics too.”

Shouto nods quietly. He usually thinks that people declaring to be his fans during his short stint as a pro are all bullshit, but this guy seems to be sincere enough.

The speech bubble goes 【・_・?】. “Are you sure you don’t need help going upstairs?”

“I got her. We’re good,” Shouto insists. “Please give Kodai our regards, Fukidashi.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. Take care.” With a (〃⌒▽⌒〃)ゝ , he  turns and drives off into the night.

Ochako isn’t too heavy, but she isn’t light, either. When Shouto carries her through the lobby and up to the elevator, he takes note of the bulk of muscle underneath the curves of her arms, her back, her thighs that strain under the shimmery material of her gown. He reckons that they’re the product of hard work in the gym, and based on the thickened skin of her knuckles, probably martial arts too.

He wonders how strong she is. Shouto doesn’t train as hard as he has before, but he does work out. If they were to spar in earnest, would she win? Would she be able to make him submit? Would she use those fists and arms and thighs to punch him, kick him, throw him on the ground? Would she pin him to the ground with a victorious little glow on her pink cheeks, murmur an I win, Shouto-kun~ into his ear, and--

He feels both cheeks flare. He keeps his left ear from bursting into flame on time, before he triggers any fire alarms.

This ride is taking forever, he decides. Ochako continues to sleep in his arms. 

This elevator continues to crawl up at a snail’s pace.

Once it opens, Shouto rushes to his unit at the end of the hall. He struggles with keys and the doorknob, not sure to be thankful or worried that she isn’t stirring at all as he does so.

Finally inside, he kicks off his shoes and ambles into his sparsely-decorated unit. He carefully places her on the tatami, carefully taking off the ridiculously high and sparkly heels off her tiny feet, and places as much of her body that fits under his suit jacket.

She sighs and snuggles gratefully underneath, curling up into a ball like a cat.

A small smile forms on his lips upon the sight.

Next, he busies himself in his bedroom--takes out both futons, rolls them out. First, side-by-side... but that might be too close, they aren’t newlyweds. He increases the distance between them, so they’re at opposing ends of his room. But that’s too far if Ochako ends up in a situation where he needs his help, so he puts them a little closer. And closer again, because it looks awkward and uneven.

Hm. This isn’t really working.

He decides to stop thinking too hard about it and continues to gather other things: a basin for throwing up, drinking water, an electrolyte drink, antiemetics and something for headaches if she needs it.

When he’s finally ready, he fluffs the pillows one last time before he heads out to gather Ochako.

She’s still mostly under his jacket, but her legs are messily sprawled underneath her. Her knees are bent so that her dress is bunched to the side. Both legs escape from the tense juncture of the thigh-high slit from one side.

He gets another peek of the astronaut decorating her thigh, and it stares back at him as if to say, hey, it’s been a while, Shouto-kun. ;)

His breath is thick when it escapes from his mouth. Get a hold of yourself, Shouto.

So he does, and bends over to carry the pink heap. He hears a worrisome tearing noise when he tries to move her. When he looks down, the cloth around her hips is noticeably less tense and more exposed. He wonders then if this is what one expects of a JPY 150,000 dress, or if Utsushimi has just been ripped off.

Well… should the need arises again, he supposes he can buy Ochako another dress. A better one.

Still, the dress is tight around her abdomen, and it can’t be comfortable breathing in it for too long. Plus she’s a little too exposed like this. And she seems to be shy when it comes to her body, at least around Shouto. Their memorable accidental meeting at Illusion Inks that one time proved that.

When he successfully lets her down on his futon, he supposes it’s prudent to try to wake her, even for a little bit, for this clothing issue. “Ochako,” he attempts gently, one cold hand against her impossibly soft cheek.

She mumbles something under her breath. Her eyes open to look up at him sleepily. “Hey.”

“I think we need to get you out of that dress,” he murmurs softly. “I’ll let you borrow my clothes. Can you stand?”

She sniffles. “No I can’t,” she whines pleadingly. 

He blinks. Maybe… covering her exposed areas under a blanket will do for now. If she wakes up later, feeling a little better, then he can offer the change of clothes. He readies himself to stand, but Ochako starts mumbling again.

“Ya gotta help me outta my corset.” The Kansai accent she usually keeps under control slips. “‘S really tight, I ain’t breathin’ proper…”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. But he has a solution: Yaoyorozu. Now seems to be a good a time as any to phone his most trustworthy female friend for help. With any luck, she’s still awake and working on her reports. But when he reaches out to grab his phone, her hand reaches out hang on to his shirt.

“Now please… ain’t… breathe…”

He asks gently, “Can you wait a little bit? I can get Yaoyorozu to help you.”

She puffs her cheeks and shakes her head. Ochako’s half lidded stare begs.

Hm. Seems that I have to do this. Huh. Shouto pauses, and inhales as quietly as he can.

The best approach would be to use his ‘clinical eye.’ Exposed bodies mean nothing to Shouto. It’s practically an everyday occurrence. Just imagine that this is an emergency situation, and you need to undress a patient to treat her properly. No malice involved. 

“... Okay.”

He carefully pulls her hand off him. A little complaining sound escapes from her when he turns to grab a shirt and a pair of shorts from his drawers. When he sits next to her again, she clings to him for support until she’s half-sitting, half-lying, fully-draped over his lap.

This will be difficult.

“S’ry Shouto,” she slurs. She really is trying her best, he guesses from the way her face is scrunched up with each movement. “Z… zipper… back...”

Shouto makes a sound of affirmation and finds the zipper. With her lying over his lap, he pulls it down, exposing smooth, suntanned skin, sprinkled with discrete freckles. There’s a single mole right at the center of the spine, right before the rest of her skin is hidden under the corset. Finding it feels like looking at a secret.

(He files its precise location away, for whatever future purpose it may serve.)

The dress is tighter than it seems, and when he pulls it downward so that she’s only in her undergarments, she exhales in relief. She mumbles corset next, and methodically he unhooks the stiff, bony garment, watching her flesh give with each merciful release.

“... hurry up n’ take it off…”

He might have taken a little longer to control the temperatures of his hands.

“Mhm, Shouto,” moans Ochako, as each hook steadily comes undone. “That’s good… feels better…”

Not just his hands at this point. The ‘clinical eye’ is failing spectacularly.

“ Urp, ” she says, one hand covering her mouth. “Almost threw up there…”

That helps, Ochako. Thanks. Shouto regains some level-headedness and continues his task. There must be like a hundred hooks on this thing…

When he’s finally done, he pulls the troublesome garment from under her and throws it wherever.

The true shape of her curves are now fully exposed to him. She’s mostly soft and round everywhere--enticing slopes, mounds of flesh where they ought to be. Shouto thinks that her body is objectively attractive in all ways, except perhaps for the stripe of pressure the corset made on the skin of her abdomen. 

“That’s a lot better,” she sighs, rolling over from his lap to the futon. “Mochi futon~ goodnight~”

He chuckles when she burrows under the thick comforters like a mole. “You aren’t dressed yet.”

“‘S fine… naked sleeping is okay,” she says in a delirious haze.

It isn’t okay though, not with how chilly the nights are lately. Shouto pulls her off, ignoring her whines of protest. He doesn’t know how he manages it, but he eventually assists her into his old UA shirt and running shorts. The clothes fit ridiculously on her--one side of the shirt slips over her shoulder and the entire thing ends in the middle of her thighs, while his shorts look oddly both loose and tight over her curves.

Well, at least she’s fully clothed now. He lets her settle down while he works on pulling out all the pins from the elaborately disheveled bun at the back of her head. There must be half a hundred hidden in it--Utsushimi’s giving him a hard time again, he thinks in annoyance--hiding in hairspray-stiffened strands, prodding her scalp.

When he’s finally done, he takes a second to admire his handiwork. She’s snoring by this time, sighing gratefully when he runs his hand through her strands, rearranges them to a less tangled mess over his pillows. Her makeup stains the white pillowcase with lines of pink lipstick and dark mascara and glitter.

The moon glows from the window. Underneath its light, pink cheeks glow serenely.

She’s… really beautiful , Shouto concludes quite honestly to himself with another smile. He seems to be doing that a lot these days.

When he’s sure that her sleep is peaceful, he leaves to change and wash up. The sounds of his footfalls, the splash of water, the movement of fabric against him that echoes throughout his wide, normally empty home is surreal, when he comes back to see that someone else is here, warm and breathing and safe in his space. Who knew that that is a possibility in this world?

He isn’t able to sleep as quickly as she does. Not that nights are always easy for Shouto, but still. His chest feels too weird, too full. His mind runs with thoughts that are too brief and quick for him to process. He’s excited. Worried. Scared. Warm and cold. 

When he’s finally able to, it’s when he turns in his futon to face her in his sleep.

*

 Ochako doesn’t remember seeing things in her dream very much, but she’s walking in the dark. She isn’t sure if she’s floating in zero gravity, or if she’s moving in the gelatinous air of the dream world, but she moves slowly, grasping walls. The ground, if it’s there at all, feels like mochi. It’s very cold, and she’s looking for warmth.

At the end of it, she finds it. She doesn’t know what it is, but it’s so warm, and her heart feels peaceful next to it. So she clings onto it, like a lifeline. The ground beneath her is soft, then transforms into water, then air.

She sleeps peacefully.

--flashback, warm nights, almost left behind--

Soft and hazy, from a million miles away, a voice hums in her ear like the wings of a fly. She ignores it. The words drift in and out of consciousness, dragging her with her to a blinding light.

--lost you can look and you will find me--

They’re becoming bothersome at this point. She groans, mouth opening in complaint, eyes squinting from the blinding sunlight, hand crumpling warm fabric, cheeks pressing against a sturdy warm chest, quietly rising and falling--

Wait.

She wills her ears to work. There’s birds chirping outside. Single cars passing through the streets, but they’re distant, as if they’re way, way above them. The song is still playing nearby, but more importantly, there’s someone breathing quietly near her…

Beside her.

Under her hand.

What the f--

Her eyes flutter open in horror and plain confusion. It takes her a solid minute to make sure she isn’t asleep. And then another to figure what, exactly, is going on in this world. She probably needs another minute to piece the scenario together into a cohesive, sensible situation, but for now, her sleep-addled brain is able to process that:

She’s in a room that she hasn’t been in before.

She’s floating up the ceiling of the said room.

Todoroki Shouto is fast asleep next to her.

She’s… cuddling Todoroki Shouto in a strange room for one reason or another and she successfully floated them up the ceiling in her sleep.

And Cyndi Lauper’s Time After Time is playing in the background.

Forget a minute. She needs a good hour to figure out what’s going on. A weird noise escapes from her throat, causing Shouto to stir.

It doesn’t take long before his eyes are completely open. Ochako freezes when his slightly hazy heterochromatic eyes fall on her, trapping her in place.

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice (dangerously) husky with sleep.

“Hey,” she weakly offers back. Because it’s early and weird and she doesn’t have a good working vocabulary yet.

Shouto looks down on the floor and quietly points out, “We’re… floating.”

“Yup,” she agrees in embarrassment.

He hums in mild interest.

“This… happens sometimes, when I fall asleep without my gloves on,” she tells him weakly. She supposes that it’s a good thing the windows are closed when they slept. Still, she feels her cheeks sting with embarrassed heat. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he tells her. His voice isn’t coming back from this really sexy early morning lowtone yet, and it isn’t helping Ochako’s mind reorganize. “Can you get us down?”

Oh. Right. “Um… The landing might be rough. We have to be careful--”

“Okay,” he says. He moves close to her and without warning, holds her in his arms and flips them so that he’s below her, and she’s pressed to the ceiling, just ready to die. “Go.”

She nods and shuts her eyes, pressing all ten fingertips together. Well, if this were a dream, the impact would wake her up, at least. “Release!”

Without further ado, they drop. Shouto lands with his back on a futon, and Ochako lands with him underneath her.

She hears the wind knocked out of their lungs in unison. They take a minute to regain their bearings. She feels the air from his mouth tickle the skin of her when he takes a deep breath.

“... that’s an interesting way to wake up,” he tells her, voice strangely amused.

She squeaks. Another second, and she realizes that she’s still cuddling him, and she scrambles to sit up with more weird non-word noises escaping her mouth.

“Don’t worry about it,” he answers her baby-like babbling. “I should have thought of that when I put you to bed last night. I’m sorry.”

“P-put me t-to--” she stammers, face getting hotter by the second.

He nods. “I have a lot of other things to apologize to you for,” he tells her quietly as he reaches for his phone. Ochako realizes that this is where the music is coming from when it stops with the press of a button. Shouto looks thoughtfully at the screen before continuing, “... but now, there’s a video call that I have to take.”

“Oh.”

He gives her a serious, apologetic look. “I’ll move to the living room to take this. Can you wait here? Promise, we’ll talk after.”

She gives a weak okay as he takes his phone and the Macbook from his desk, and moves to the living room. In the stunned quiet that he leaves her, she hears the sounds of a mouse clicking, a muted ringing noise, and then a voice through speakers: “Shouto! Good morning!”

“Hey, Mom,” comes Shouto’s quiet reply.

Ochako decides to cut off her eavesdropping there, and to instead busy herself with figuring out what the heck is going on here.

About last night: she sort of remembers drinking a lot and feeling sick afterward. She was with Shindo at one point, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember what they talked about. Shouto was supposed to go up on stage, but she doesn’t remember watching him do it, like she promised. She remembers a balcony, the tiled floors, and being carried through hallways.

Was she really that drunk? She dreads to look at her phone then--who knows who recorded what, who knows who she might have called or texted or whatever, and how many people might be asking her questions that she isn’t prepared to answer.

She looks at herself in the mirror of Shouto’s closet. She blushes furiously when she realizes that she’s out of the tight clothing of last night, her clothes aren’t her clothes and her hair and face looks like she flew through a wind tunnel. Her face practically catches on fire when she realizes once second later that Shouto must have helped her out of those clothes and into these, and that these are his clothes and she’s surrounded in his essence and wow his shoulders are much broader than hers, she’s practically swimming in his shirt and it looks so nice--

She shakes her head. Now’s not the time for daydreamin’. Now is the time to straighten your head.

The Gala is over, after all. Shouto might not need a reason to keep you around anymore. Realistically, after this phone call, he’s going to say sorry for all the trouble he thinks he caused, and he’s going to talk with you about breaking up.

Which is good and strategic and sensible--last night proves that she isn’t a good girlfriend. Not even a good fake one. She can’t trouble Shouto or the other Todorokis like that again.

Man. It feels like a sucker punch to the gut though. She’s really good at making her insides feel like shit.

Hm. Still, there’s a real pressure building up in her insides. She clutches her lower abdomen and realizes that all the liquids she ingested last night are still there, and she needs to use the restroom really soon.

Ear through the doorway, she peeks at Shouto, speaking quietly to a beautiful white-haired woman who looks very much like Fuyumi through the computer screen. The conversation doesn’t look like it’ll be over soon, much to her bladder’s chagrin. She bites her lip and strategizes.

A door that looks like it could be the restroom is at the other end of the unit. She’d have to go behind Shouto, but if she does, his mom is definitely going to see her creeping behind like… like a creep.

She can do it though if she goes around Shouto. So ignoring her complaining bladder as quietly as she can, she tiptoes behind, and around, and--

“... you don’t know how proud I am of you, Shou-chan. Seeing you like this--hm?”

Shouto briefly looks at Ochako in surprise, before looking back to the screen. “Ah,” he says.

Ochako freezes in place when she hears an excited, “Shou-chan, you didn’t tell me--!!”

And it’s then that she notices the fuckin’ mirror behind Shouto’s head… reflecting her in all her disheveled, loosely-clothed glory.

Why Doctorokiiiii how many fuckin’ mirrors do you neeeeeed, she thinks in disdain. 

“Yes,” Shouto says, not missing a beat. “Sorry I didn’t tell you, mom. She slept over last night. It was pretty late.”

She can’t see Mrs. Todoroki’s face, but she practically hears the beam on her face when she speaks again. “Oh, that’s fine, that’s fine, of course you need to take care of her--and you two are adults, so I certainly can’t stop you from sleepovers and those things--”

Oh god Mommyroki please stop, you’re the last person who should think of adult sleepovers--

“--oh, silly me. Shouto, don’t be rude, introduce us! I’ve been looking forward to this, Fuyumi’s been raving about her since last night!”

Ochako’s bladder is completely numb and frozen when she goes and crouches next to Shouto, with the best smile she can manage.

Mrs. Todoroki is so pretty. Ochako feels like looking at the embodiment of freshly fallen snow in an idyllic forest on a quiet winter morning. Her snow-white hair falls over her shoulders, and her onyx black eyes glint with warmth in time with the huge smile she gives her. “Good morning, Ochako-chan! It’s so good to finally meet you!”

Ochako feels like a scullery maid having a private audience with the Queen. “Good morning, Mrs. Todoroki. It’s good to meet you too!”

“Please, call me Rei,” she says quite giddily. “Oh, look at you two, you look so adorable together!”

“Thanks,” Shouto says. Ochako could have sworn that she sees him smile in the little outgoing image on the screen.

“So, Ochako, are you feeling any better now?” Rei asks, voice as warm as a fireplace. “Fuyumi and Natsu told me that you were feeling unwell last night. We were all worried about you.”

“Oh, I’m feeling a lot better now! Shouto… kun really helped me out last night, so… please, don’t worry about me!”

“That’s a relief! I’m sure that Shou-chan did his best for you. Still, you have to take care of yourself, dear. Promise me that. Okay?”

She nods and blushes a deep crimson at dear. Except for Endeavor, it seems like the Todorokis are surprisingly quick to adopt her into the family. Whether it’s because of her (fake) relation with Shouto, or whether it’s from the so-called roundface effect that the Kirishimas insist makes anyone want to adopt her as their personal round baby.

“Good,” Rei says, giving her another warm, unassuming smile. “So Ochako dear, I hope to see you this weekend in our estate--”

Wait, what?

Shouto clears his throat and tells her, “I haven’t talked to her about it, Mom.”

“Oh? Well now’s the time to talk about it, isn’t it?”

Ochako’s smile freezes as she turns to Shouto with a questioning tilt of the head.

He looks at her carefully. “... it’s just a small family gathering,” he tells Ochako quietly. “Sunday morning. Our house outside the city. If you have other plans...”

Another party? With all the Todorokis? Is it just the nice Todorokis, or…

“Enji… told me that he’s going to make it too,” Rei adds quietly.

Well… fuck that then. Ochako tries not to make a face.

“Are you going to be okay with that?” asks Shouto, with a worried crease on his forehead. “You’ve been doing so well, Mom…”

Well, even if it were just the nice Todorokis, she really couldn’t make it. It’s a Sunday off, one of the rare ones, and she promised Ma and Pa that she’s going to Mie-ken for a long overdue visit. She’d just have to politely tell them that she already has plans with her own family, and--

Rei nods. “My doctor thinks that it should be okay, as long as the rest of the family is there. Besides, it’s about time we indulged Fuyumi, don’t you think? To have the family together, with everyone important to us close by. She’s been wishing for this for a long time now…”

The woman tries to cough subtly, but it racks her entire body. Shouto leans forward, obviously worried. “Mom, you okay?”

“Y… yes,” she says, her voice breaking. “It’s just the weather, Shouto. You know how weak my constitution is. I’m surprised I haven’t keeled over and died yet,” she adds with a laugh.

“Mom… that’s not a good joke.”

She laughs again. “I’m sorry. It’s done in poor taste.” She turns to Ochako again, with a kind smile. “Never mind all that, Ochako dear. I really hope you’ll make it. We don’t have this gatherings too often, and I’d like to see you before they bring me back to the hospice for the rest of the year.”

… darrrnnn it Mommyroki, you’re making it impossible to say nooooo!!!!

She gives herself a swift uppercut to the face mentally as she replies, with a smile, “Oh, I’ll be there, Rei-san! I look forward to seeing you soon!”

Shouto’s head snaps to look at her, a careful and shocked look in his eyes. She looks up at him, probably with the same careful and shocked expression he has.

Rei cries out in glee. “That’s wonderful!!! I look forward to seeing you soon, too! Oh Shouto, this is wonderful~”

In an instant, the curious look is gone, and Shouto responds, “Yeah, it is Mom. We’ll see you soon.”

They exchange their goodbyes after, with Ochako bowing her head so much that she gets dizzy, and ends the call. Shouto pushes the laptop screen closed and again, looks at Ochako carefully.

“You… said yes,” he says quietly.

She nods.

“... you didn’t have to,” he tells her, after another careful silence. “I wanted to talk to you about it properly after the phone call. You might have other things you need to do.”

“It’s fine, Shouto…” she says meekly. “I… didn’t want your mom to feel bad. I mean…” even though it isn’t real, “she looked really excited to see you with… someone.”

Shouto’s gaze doesn’t leave her. “Well, if you’re sure. But if you just feel pressured to do this…”

Well she is. But she isn’t going to let it show. Because it’s going to be hard for Shouto too. And she really doesn’t want him to face that alone. Who knows what’ll happen if he’s left to face that awful man alone again?

“We’ll be okay, Shouto.” She gives his hand a reassuring squeeze and gives him the best smile she can muster. “We’ll do better. No more weird patches or wines this time, though!”

He hesitates, but gives her a nice, warm, grateful smile. “Definitely. Thanks, Ochako.”

In the next moment, she remembers her straining bladder, and without another word runs into the toilet.

She’s just going to have to videocall her Pa later.

 *

 They leave the condominium. Shouto drives her to where she lives, which is a tiny apartment block two stations away from the hospital area. He drops her off there, with her still wearing his clothes, and offers to wait for her as she dresses up for work.

“You don’t have to,” she stammers. “We’re already late as it is--”

He shrugs. “Exactly.” When she complains again, he adds, “This feels like something I should do as a boyfriend. It’s okay.”

He says it so nonchalantly that it’s annoying. The pink-faced Ochako decides then that the best thing to do is to shower, brush her teeth and dress up in the speed of light to not keep him waiting any longer. Besides, his Camry’s already looking too odd in this part of the neighborhood.

When she’s done, they speed off and make it to Hosu Gen. She feels people stare at them as they alight the car and walk together to the employees entrance. Some of them whisper and look at them like they’re a scandal, not even bothering to hide their judgmental stares. Shouto doesn’t look bothered at all, but maybe he hasn’t noticed anything.

It annoys Ochako very much though. They’re both dressed appropriately, but why does it feel like a walk of shame?

They sign in, one after the other as per usual, simultaneously and instantaneously shifting from whatever-they-were-pretending-to-be, to what-they-really-are, which is a doctor and a nurse.

“Ochako.”

She snaps out out of a cloud of annoyance she doesn’t realize she’s slipped in. “Doc?”

He stares at her oddly. Maybe he noticed the sudden irritability in her aura. Or maybe he isn’t used to her using ‘Doc’ again. Still, they have to be professional. “Maybe we can eat together for lunch if we’re both free.”

She nods curtly. “Let’s see if we have time later, doc.”

More whispers buzz in her ears like flies around the corpse. At this point she’s sure that Shouto’s just expertly ignoring them. Must be nice to be so stoic. “Okay. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay.”

They go their separate ways, him to the residents’ call room, and her to the OR. Senseless words around her-- wow look at her, she’s so plain--what did she do to trick Doctoroki--I knew it was just photoshop from yesterday-- all of which go in one ear and out another. She dresses in her scrubs, places her hair in a cap and wears a mask. Her motions practiced and natural. Her hands neither too hot nor too cold, like they always are.

Yeah… she can do this. Despite the bothersome gossip growing behind them, she can remain professional. She can work like nothing happened.

 *

 Still, the bliss of ‘nothing happening’ doesn’t last very long. She has just assisted Drs. Shishida and Asui of General Surgery in doing a really extensive abdominal surgery and is in the process of carrying out all the orders with Mina when, predictably, the silence becomes too much to bear for the pinkette.

“Baby girl,” she calls out, looking up from her monitoring sheet, “you’ve been awfully quiet there.”

Ochako shakes her head and keeps her eyes on the chart. “No. Just hard to read Dr. Shishida’s handwriting. I think I need to clarify some of these with him.”

“Hmm, I get ya. He writes like a bear with a 500,000 yen fountain pen strapped to its paw.” Still, she feels Mina’s dark eyes on her, and she can feel the little pout she makes when she’s ignored, even if she isn’t looking. “That ain’t it though, babe. Come on, is there something wrong?”

Again, the brunette shakes her head and keeps her eyes down. She can feel it in her bones that Mina’s going to talk about the stuff that happened last night with Shouto--no, Doctoroki, while they’re at work, come on--some mean gossip she heard on the way to work, or something someone said on the Internet while everyone is livetweeting the gala. Ochako hasn’t opened any of her social media apps since last night, and she really isn’t ready to, and Mina better not force her into anything so help her--

“Ochako,” Mina repeats.

When Ochako looks up, the other nurse is staring right into her, stern and protective and present. The brunette startles at the sudden proximity, and when she moves to step back, Mina holds her, the acid underneath slightly stinging the skin of her arms.

“Has anyone been mean to you?”

Ochako, wide-eyed, shakes her head once more.

“You aren’t bullshitting me?” she repeats. “Because no matter what you say, if anyone talks shit about you, you know I’m kicking their basic bitch asses, right babe?”

“M-mina-chan! Calm down!”

“I’m just saying, okay? I got your back. And not just me. Kiri, Sero, and Ao-chan are here for you too.” The pink woman makes a short sound of frustration and flexes her arm. “God, some people here can be so fucking petty. The same people who gave me and Kiri shit ages ago are having a field day… if he didn’t hold me back this morning, I would have melted their asses off in the locker room--”

So she didn’t imagine all the judgmental stares and buzzing noises around her this morning. Damn. The beginnings of a stress headache starts tingling in her forehead as Mina continues her impassioned rant.

“And that stupid nursing supervisor--who does he think he is, huh? Hun, let me know if he gives you a hard time, okay? I’ll make sure he knows exactly how many rules you aren’t breaking.”

“The… nursing supervisor?” Ochako asks weakly. “He… hasn’t hinted at anything when I passed him by this morning…”

Mina huffs. “Well. Figures that shithead can’t say anything to your lil round face.”

“... yeah, I guess he wouldn’t.” Maybe he did say something behind her back. There were a lot of voices this morning, after all.

The pink woman sighs. Two pink hands reach over to hold round, pink cheeks, gives them a little squeeze. “Other than that, babe… don’t listen to them. You are my very cute, very lovely, very smart round baby… and I’m proud of you.”

Her hands are still stingy, but they’re really warm and smells like lemons. Some weight from Ochako’s heart lifts as she gives her friend a little smile. “Thanks, Mommy. I love you.

“Love ya too,” Mina says with a wink, and then chortling when she sees the chart. “Whoa, what the fuck, Dr. Shishida? Beastly handwriting, that.”

Ochako laughs, and gets back to deciphering the code.

 *

 The day ends up being very long, and very tiring. After the abdominal surgery, Tsuyu-chan comes back with an emergency appendectomy. Soon after, Honenuki and Dr. Deku of pediatric surgery come in with a child who needs emergency brain and abdomen surgery after getting in a quirk-related accident. The case was difficult, and they had to perform a code at one point. The child survived, but ends up being wheeled out to critical care, still on the brink of death.

After the procedures, Honenuki is sullen, and Deku is in tears. “W… we did all we could, didn’t we, Honenuki-kun? Uraraka-san?”

“Yeah,” the white-haired neurosurgeon offers, patting him on the back. “You did your best, Deku-kun.”

“That’s right. Everyone did,” Ochako says, but not as kindly or strongly as Honenuki has. Sensing the misery in her tone, Honenuki also starts patting her on the back. Deku tries his best, but the tears won’t stop falling.

Days in the hospital are rarely easy. 

It’s so that she leaves the OR way past her shift is over, making it to the cafeteria, half-filled with staff who turn to her, turn away conspiratorially, and start buzzing again. She wanted to pretend that they are talking about other things like the weather or maybe the rise in vigilante activity, or maybe eating shit--anything else, really, but it’s hard when she hears snippets of their inane conversation:

I can’t believe it--look at her, she’s a mortal like the rest of us, who does she think she is? Todoroki and her? I’d rather he starts dating Yui, I’d feel better about myself if-- 

Her heart is so, so tired, still wrenched from the inside out from the case she’s just gone through, and here the cruel words come, just sniping her, testing her…

Wait. Oh, Doctoroki--

They were supposed to have lunch together, right? She fishes out her phone, ignores all the social media notifications and focuses on opening her LINE app.

Todoroki Shouto (1405H): Conducting a patient to Musutafu Children’s Hospital. Won’t make it to lunch. Todoroki Shouto (1406H): I’m on duty tonight so I can’t take you home. Still, send me a message once you’re on your way. Todoroki Shouto (1406H): Don’t skip meals. Take care.

He’s… surprisingly good at this boyfriend thing, Ochako thinks.

Me (1759H): Sry! just got out of the OR. We had a really tough case with Honenuki and Deku-kun. Me (1759H): gonna eat sth b4 goin home. Ill text u.

Todoroki Shouto (1800H): Okay. Eat well.

She covers her mouth when she feels her teeth start to show.

In the next moment though, perfectly timed to throw her off apparently, her phone buzzes again. It isn’t a new text from Shouto--the notification comes from an unknown number, and staring at the jumble of numbers somehow gives her an overwhelming feeling of apprehension.

She stares at it for a couple of seconds. She doesn’t know why she inhales deeply before she reads it, but when she does, her guts threaten to come out of her ass.

[Unknown Number] (1801H): Hey, Chako-chan ;) This is Shindo Yo. [Unknown Number] (1801H): U free rn?

#cafe/hospital AU #peony pink and cherry blossom tea #todoroki shouto #uraraka ochako #shouchako #todochako #todoroki shouto x uraraka ochako #manga fukidashi #todoroki rei #hospital life is hard y'all

[oatsn-honey]

Wrinkles

Summary:  Arguments between couples can make wrinkles in relationships. And wrinkles in clothes.

Or: A one-shot where Izuku and Ochako get into a silly argument, and everything ends up happy and fluffy.

Notes:  Heyo everyone! I hope you're doing well! I wrote this one-shot to keep you all content while I write the next update for The Sorrow Behind the Smile (my other BnHA story, if you do not know.) This was originally going to be a silly and not seriously written one-shot, but things didn't work out that way. Anyhow! I hope you enjoy this story!

Ochako trudged through the apartment building, her hero costume growing more uncomfortable by the second. She waved to the receptionist as she passed the front desk and swiftly rushed into the first floor’s public restroom. She entered one of the stalls and proceeded to rapidly remove her skin-tight suit. After it was off, she let out a satisfied sigh, allowing her body to breathe for a moment.

Ochako then slipped on a pair of bleached skinny jeans and a navy and white striped, long-sleeved tee-shirt. Sliding on a pair of canvas flats, with navy embellishments, she stepped out of the stall to inspect herself in the wide mirror. She decided that she looked fairly decent, and with two thumbs up (to herself, or course), she made her way out of the bathroom.

She took the steps to the 4th floor, as she and Izuku always did. “Just for a little bit of extra exercise,” Ochako had said to him. Of course he responded positively to her idea, flashing her one of his bright smiles that still managed to make her stomach flutter. The brunette took a moment to stop and admire the dazzling ring on her left ring finger. He always knows just what I like, she thought to herself with a smile that made her eyes crinkle in the corners.

As she continued her ascent to her floor, she chuckled softly to herself, thinking of how she still did the “Just engaged!” finger waggle, that females often do to show off their engagement rings, despite being already married. To be honest, she just did it to jokingly taunt her friends who had yet to be proposed to by their significant other, namely Shouto and Momo. Who knew that Deku would have more guts than Todoroki? And look how happy we are now. Her pleasing thoughts came to a close when she reached Floor Four’s platform.

She opened the metal swinging door and stepped into the hallway. Making a brisk walk to her shared apartment, she remembered that Izuku had gotten the second half of the day off, so he would already be home. He’s had 5 days straight of constant work. Her heart sunk at the fact that he had gotten so many frequent emergency calls, even late into the night, that he had gotten three hours of less of sleep every day. Each time, she would offer to go with him, to make the process quicker, but he denied every single time. Eventually, he started to just go without letting her know, that way he wouldn’t have to wake her up. She would go to sleep in his arms, and then wake up with him nowhere in sight. The first time he did it, she panicked beyond words. Luckily, he came shuffling in through the front door before she had the chance to call the police. After that, he started to leave notes on her nightstand, telling her that he went out. That barely did anything to subdue her worry, though.

I really hope he’s resting right now… Lord knows he needs it. This was her hope as she entered through the front door, refraining from calling out, in fear of waking or disturbing her husband. As Ochako sauntered over to their medium-sized kitchen, she pondered on what to make for dinner. I could make katsudon. After all, it is Izuku’s comfort food… While she went about gathering the ingredients, she remembered that she would have to do the dishes. She didn’t have the time to do them earlier in the morning, nor the energy to do them the previous night.

Ochako walked to the kitchen closet, grabbing the smoothed wood recipe box that her mother had gifted to her, picking out the recipe for tonight’s dish. “Inko Midoriya’s Famous Katsudon” read the recipe card. Inko had been elated, if not a bit embarrassed when Ochako had asked for the recipe. That was back when Deku and I were just dating… She had told her timid mother-in-law that she wanted to know how to perfectly make Izuku’s favorite food. Inko quickly agreed that it was a great, and very heartwarming, idea, and the two ran through the recipe, surprising their favorite boy with the dinner. The sweet woman got flustered, however, when she saw Ochako write “famous” on the recipe card.

The gravity altering quirk user smiled to herself and went over to the kitchen sink, planning to get the needed amount of water for the supper. She was shocked to see that the sink was empty and shining, like had just been cleaned. I didn’t do that… Her eyebrows furrowed. Izuku. A sudden anger filled her body, and she couldn’t hold back as she yelled, her voice carrying throughout the apartment, “Izuku! Come here right now!” I told him not to do the dishes. I can’t believe him! He’s so stupid sometimes!

She heard his footsteps as he came rushing in, panic evident on his face. He was dressed in a oversized yellow sweater and jeans, the sleeves of his shirt going far past his hands. Her arms were crossed, and her expression stern. Ochako grew even more heated when she saw the warm basket of laundry balancing on his right hip. “What’s wrong! Did something happen?!” His voice was filled to the brim with worry, but he stopped his approach at the edge of the kitchen, seeing the anger on his usually bubbly wife’s face. He gulped, fear rising from the pit of his stomach.

The sight of the deep, dark circles under his typically vibrant green eyes fueled the process of Ochako becoming further upset. “Izuku! I swear! I told you not to do the dishes, and that I would do them when I got home! But you just had to go and do them anyway! And, look! Now you’re doing the laundry too! Have you even rested at all?! You’re going to work yourself into an early grave!”

He was slightly apprehensive of how she would respond, but Izuku still retaliated. “Well I don’t want you to have to come home just to do the dishes, Ochako! You need rest too!”

Oh he did not just… “I’ve had plenty of rest these past days! My shifts have all been laid back and ended early! You have gotten less than 3 hours of sleep for 5 days in a row, Deku,” She seemed to calm down for a moment. “That’s not healthy. I’m just concerned for your health. And not to mention that you’ve had several run-ins with some dangerous villains.” Her moment of a calm came to and abrupt end. “And-! Don’t you even pretend that the cut on your leg from that villain the other day isn’t bothering you anymore! I can plainly see that it is!”

At those words, Izuku hid his injured leg behind the other, in a little self-conscious motion. “I’m fine, I promise, Ochako. I don’t even feel tir-“

He was interrupted by Ochako, whom was not willing to hear Izuku lie to himself about his health. “Ah! Izuku, don’t do this, please. Just… sweetheart, you’ll make yourself sick.” She approached him, gently placing her hands on the white, plastic laundry basket that he was still holding. “Please, will you at least lay down for a little bit? When you do, you’ll realize just how tired you are.” She looked up at him, all sign of anger gone, sadness and worry being the only emotions wavering in her immense brown orbs. “Please, Izuku?”

He gazed down at her with a solemn expression for a moment before hanging his head in defeat. His eyelids fluttered close, his long eyelashes standing out against his bruise-like eye bags. “Alright, for you, Ochako.” He halfway opened his eyes and flashed her a tiny closed smile.

Relief washed over Ochako, and she looked at him with a face filled with massive amounts of gratitude. She gingerly took the basket away from his grasp, placing it on the hardwood floor. She sweetly embraced him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He slithered his hands around to rest on the small of her back. She used her hand to bring his head down to rest on her shoulder. She threaded her hand through his thick, curly hair, relishing in its silkyness. His breath tickled her neck when he let out a long, content sigh.

“Sorry for yelling at you.” She felt him nod into her shoulder. The tiny gesture made her heart soar, for some peculiar reason. Ochako continued, “There’s just no way else to get through that thick skull of yours.” She could feel the small chuckle at her comment reverberate through his warm body and a warm smile dawned her pink lips. After a pleasant moment, they eventually parted, and after a sweet and short kiss, she took his scarred hand in hers, leading him to their shared bedroom.

Upon entering, neither of them bothered to turn on the lights. Both swiftly changed into some comfortable clothing, Izuku keeping his sweater on and just switching his jeans for a pair of gray sweats. Ochako was adorned in a pair of pastel pink lounge shorts and one of Izuku’s old shirts.

While his wife was still getting on some comfortable clothes, Izuku took a moment to sit on the queen sized bed and admire the pictures on the wall. That one was from when were dating… The engagement photos… He looked at the largest collection of photographs. And those are from our wedding. He stared at the largest, where they were standing up on the altar. It was taken during the vow-sealing kiss. His face grew slightly warmer, a tint of pink adorning his cheekbones. She really did look stunning that day. And every day…

“Okay!” Ochako’s sudden declaration broke Izuku from his nostalgic trance. She gave a cute smile, and joined him on the the bed. As they laid down, sharing one pillow and cuddling so that they seemed to be just a heap of limbs, Ochako asked “Are you alright?” She shifted slightly, being cautious of the cut on Izuku’s leg.

“Mmhmm,” He hummed, “Just remembering some things.” He answered as his eyelids drifted closed against his will. Ochako was right… I guess I really am tired… The extreme exhaustion had enveloped the pro-hero, willing him to fall asleep. Before he knew it, his consciousness had already faded into black.

Ochako took the moment to admire him, glad that he was finally getting the rest that he needed. She gazed at his soft expression, and placed her hand on the side of his face. The young woman took note of every single small detail, the way his hair curled out in seemingly every direction, unwilling to be tamed. All of the freckles that adorned his face and body, some large and others small. He’s gotten more over these years, she thought with silent mirth. The way his lips naturally curled. His gently sloping nose. He’s very handsome. For once, she didn’t feel flustered at her thoughts. To her, he was perfect. Both in personality and looks. But his attractive features weren’t the only things she noticed. The sleep-deprivation was more than obvious, and in the silence of the room, she could see just how stressed he was.

She let out a sigh, and brought her hand away from his face to rest on his shoulder. Ochako could feel his gentle breaths flow through him, making his body rise and fall. She tucked herself into his chest, tingles running through her body when he unconsciously brought his arm to rest on her hip. She too, soon fell asleep, glad that she had such an amazing person in her life.

The ingredients for what was to be dinner sat untouched on the kitchen counter. And the now cool clothes that laid in that white basket were left unfolded. Who cares if the clothing was wrinkled or not? If they could live through the tiny wrinkles in their relationship, who’s to say they can’t deal with that?

Notes: The idea for this initially came from a conversation my sister and I had. We were talking about another couple, and she mentioned that they would probably fight and argue all of the time ("Like an old married couple."). It got me thinking; "How would Izuku and Ochako fight? Because surely they would have little quarrels." And so I told my sister that they would have silly arguments like, "I TOLD YOU I WOULD DO THE DISHES!" "WELL I JUST DIDN'T WANT YOU TO HAVE TO WORK AFTER YOU CAME HOME!" And so, my writer's mind turned that small, lighthearted discussion into this little fluffy (I hope) one-shot.

Alright, story aside, thank you for reading! Eat and drink well, and have a wonderful day!!

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #izuku x ochako #midoriya izuku #uraraka ochako #midoriya izuku x uraraka ochako #izuocha #midoriya inko #apartment #living together #marriage #fights #fluff

[jestdrabbles]

Every Hurdle, Every Chasm - Chapter 01

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Warnings: none Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Iida Tenya, Uraraka Ochako, Asui Tsuyu, Todoroki Shouto, Iida Tensei, Tenya’s mother, Ochako’s parents Relationships: Dekusquad friendship | Pining Tododeku & Tsuchako Other info: Dekusquad Roadtrip AU ; Fun times ahead but also some tough emotional times so I should definitely warn about that!; MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS.

Words: ~8,000 | Chapter: 01/14 | Language: English

Official first day of the roadtrip! Each chapter spans the course of a day, so their length will vary depending on what happens. Some are more eventful than others, but hopefully everything rounds out all right!

Day 01 : Christmas Eve [December 24]

“Todoroki, you look awful,” Ochako tilts her head toward him on the commute to the station. Even if the sun has been out for a few hours, their morning has only started from the cacophony of yawns and eye rubs. They’re all a little sluggish in their steps save for Tenya who could probably handle a jog if it weren’t for the rest of them straggling behind. Shouto blinks to her in a delayed, deepened grunt.

“Yeah.”

“And this is why we plan ahead! I’m sure Todoroki has learned his lesson and will not let this happen again,” Tenya handles the scolding gently as he pats his very sleepy friend’s shoulder. Shouto’s engulfed in his blue scarf, lowering his chin to yawn into it as he conveniently avoids Ochako’s pout. Izuku glances down at his thermos of the morning’s coffee, then hesitantly extends it to Shouto as a quiet offering, but he fails to register it in his delirium. “Uraraka, do you need any help with your bags?”

“It’s not too heavy,” she shrugs her shoulder holding the duffle bag and keeps careful not to let the suitcase rolling behind her stray in an awkward direction as it bumps over the sidewalk curbs. He accepts her resolve and eyes over the others to double check their moods.

Tsuyu is bundled most of all with what appears to be a fashionable blanket draped over her torso, a knit hat on her head, and her hands are covered in thick mittens. She notices him looking and lifts her hand to offer a thumbs up to reassure that she’s fine, just drowsy. They all know the cold is rough on her, so he takes a few steps backward to place his hand on her back, and she naturally leans against his touch to accept his extra warmth.

Meanwhile, Shouto’s only just accepted the thermos and seems to be staring at it as if he’s embarrassed. His attention can only focus on so much right now, so he fails to notice the way Ochako eyes Izuku, and Tenya keeps his own amusement to himself.

“Thanks,” he says after a sip and returns it before he’s tempted to take another. Izuku accepts it with a smile and nod; he quickly shelters his oncoming influx of words with his own gulp and nearly burns his tongue on the coffee. Smooth, Deku. He fans his tongue with a groan as Ochako rolls her eyes into a snorted snicker.

“So Iida, what’s your house like? Should I prepare myself like with Yaomomo’s, or even what I imagine Todoroki’s?” she asks with curiosity, and he waves his hand quickly before she can even mention the latter.

“No, no, nothing like Yaoyorozu’s estate, I assure you! I can understand your assumptions, of course, but we live in a normal house,” Tenya tenses in his hand motion, still conscious of Tsuyu at his side. Ochako pats his arm as she covers her mouth with her other hand to stop herself from laughing.

“Is your whole family going to be there?” Izuku asks, and Tenya shakes his head.

“Unfortunately, my dad couldn’t take off, but my mom and Tensei will be there.”

“I wonder if we’ll get to see any pictures of tiny Iida,” Ochako imagines it the best she can, but it’s hard to picture their tall and earnest friend as little kid.

“Wait, what about my house?” Shouto belatedly joins the conversation.

“Huh? O-oh! I just mean that you’ve mentioned your family has an old Japanese-style house, so I assume it’s big?” round, chestnut eyes almost look back to him apologetically if she’s accidentally offended him. Sometimes his tone or expression can be hard to read, but he mouths an oh as if he’s finished processing the rest of the topic.

Also, your father is the Number One Hero.

Thankfully, they all have enough tact not to say it.

As soon as they take their seats on the train, Shouto’s out like a light with his head leaned against the window, and Tenya takes the seat beside him. Tsuyu sits in the window seat across with Ochako stealing the aisle seat before Izuku has a chance. Accepting his solo seating, he takes the row in front of Tenya and Shouto.

“I thought he’d be more of a morning person,” Ochako points toward their slumbering companion; Izuku and Tenya do their best to suppress their laughter. “What? Is that weird?”

“No, no, it’s not,” Izuku’s voice squeezes through the chuckle and crack in the seat, “I thought so too, but I think it was one of our training trips? I don’t remember exactly, but yeah, no, he’s almost like a zombie in the morning unless there’s something important.”

“He seems to have two methods of sleeping: like a corpse or constantly tossing and turning,” Tenya mimics the motions as if he’s acting the part of his friend, and Ochako bursts out laughing and has to muffle it in Tsuyu’s shoulder. “I’m serious. One time when we all had to share a room, I got up to use the restroom, and I swear, his feet were where his head should have been!”

“Wait, you never told me about this!” Izuku’s smile spreads, but then it hits him that Tenya may have more secrets about them to share. “Please tell me I’m not embarrassing when I sleep.”

“I bet Deku mumbles in his sleep.”

“Actually--”

“Oh no,” Izuku buries his face in his hands as he dreads what nonsense his unconscious spills when he’s already muttering embarrassing thoughts in his wake. He spreads his fingers to peek through at Tenya from the slit for reassurance, but only confirmation awaits him in the form of near-pitying nod. “Fuck,” he groans. Tenya’s jaw drops at the curse as if he’s never heard it from his nice, freckled friend, but he’s cut off before he can give the proper lecture.

“Hey, don’t worry about it! It’s like talk radio! Maybe it’ll help us sleep better,” Ochako pumps her fists.

“I croak sometimes,” Tsuyu exposes herself without shame, “and Ochako gets clingy.” The gasp of betrayal is quelled with a lighthearted bump of shoulders. To be fair, most of the girls in their class feel comfortable enough sprawled across one another.

“I think I’m the same way. I like hugging my pillow,” Izuku comes down from his own embarrassment with everyone else sharing their sleeping habits. “I drool a lot though.”

“If I don’t have my nasal strips, I snore rather loudly,” Tenya admits, “otherwise, I believe I’m fairly still.”

“Oh! And I have to wear these mittens for my hands so I don’t touch anything,” Ochako holds up her hands and wiggles her padded fingertips. Izuku almost bumps a passerby in his lean as he studies her hands from his seat, and the quirk-loving cogs in his head begin to turn as he realizes that he never thought about a detail like that. People with a touch-based quirk are certainly at a disadvantage in that regard, but that problem is probably more troublesome during development when they’re not quite sure the specifics regarding their quirks, so to worry about control and care at this point is a bit moot. “Deku, it’s not that deep,” she reaches across to tap his seat and jog him from his train of thought.

He’s teased himself about perhaps having been born with a mundane quirk like excessive muttering or extreme emotional response, and he almost wouldn’t doubt it at this point. Whoever is to inherit One For All from him someday is in for some possible word vomit or waterworks.

“I think something like that would be more troublesome,” Tsuyu points across to Shouto’s visible breath slipping between his slightly parted lips. Tenya takes it upon himself to unbutton his own overcoat and drape it over him without waking the sleeping beauty.

They resume the ride with idle chit-chat, tossing and returning commentary as Izuku finishes the rest of his coffee, cool enough to gulp down without fear of burning again. Sometimes the caffeine worsens his jitters and mumbles, but he knows he wants to keep awake and energized for the car ride ahead. Tsuyu indicates his bouncing leg and asks if he’s nervous or excited, and when he answers the second, she smiles and ribbits in agreement.

They’re practically shoved to and fro on their way out the station to switch lines, and through the denser crowds, Izuku reaches his hands out to connect with his friends to be sure no one gets pulled away in the foot traffic. Thankfully, keeping behind Iida’s broad shoulders helps the smaller members of the group keep contained well enough, and Shouto is alert enough to worm his way through without bumping into anyone. Izuku thinks he may be a bit too good at avoiding them.

The following ride feels like mere moments compared to the last, so they stand with their belongings close to their chests if they can help it and try not to get too carried away in a conversation. Once free of their train prisons, they exit the station with unified exhales and stretches -- a very worn out choir harmonizing in sighs.

Thankfully, journeying to the Iida household isn’t so bad, and they all appreciate a good walk after sitting and standing still for so long. Tenya leads the way with Izuku and Ochako behind him and Tsuyu keeping at Shouto’s left, hesitant to walk too close but still near enough to bump arms if she bends.

“Oh wait, Iida!” Ochako reaches forward to pat his back a couple times. “Is there a convenient store by your house?”

“If we take a small detour. Why, did you forget something in your luggage?”

“We need to stock up on snacks for the road! It’ll be better if we do that beforehand, don’t you think?”

“Excellent thinking, Uraraka!” he grins, and the others perk up at the suggestion.

He leads them through the residential area near some local businesses and shops. Stopping at the corner store, they immediately scatter to different sections once inside. Ochako and Tsuyu spend time narrowing their preferences down to a few fruit snacks and sweets while Izuku shies away from the spicy snacks as if he’s had an awkward past affair with them. Tenya prioritizes stocking up on some orange juice, and he turns to see Shouto with an arm full of bags ranging in types of different snacks and their flavors. With a word of admiration, he appreciates his friend treating everyone, but Shouto only wears confusion as he makes his way to the checkout counter with his plethora of junk food.

Ochako and Tsuyu follow suit with their haul of packaged mochi, gummies, and pocky -- things that are easy to share with others -- and they notice that Izuku has some sweet bread and chips. His logic is that they can ask Shouto to warm the buns, and Ochako points both fingers at him like barrels of a gun as she praises his genius. They consolidate everything into as few bags as possible, pass most of them off to Shouto’s offering hands, and follow Tenya en route to his very welcoming abode.

Tenya Iida can certainly shove his own key into the door to welcome them inside, but he rings the doorbell so his family can greet them more readily. It only takes a few moments before the lock clicks and the door opens to Mrs. Iida’s gentle smile, her eyes obscured by her glasses’ shine. Without hesitation, she presses on her toes to wrap her arms around her much taller son, giving him a pat on the back before she turns toward the rest of the house.

“Tensei! Your brother and his friends are here!” she announces, and she steps back to welcome everyone inside to remove their shoes. One by one, they thank her for her hospitality and follow Tenya to the kitchen where his smile spreads upon seeing his older brother finishing setting the table. He scoots back from the table and turns his chair to meet them grinning as he wills it forward.

“Long time, no see! I can’t believe my baby brother’s already taller than me,” he jokes and accepts the oncoming embrace. When they part, Tensei looks over his friends and sees how Izuku’s fingertips mask a wobbly smile and can’t help but chuckle. “He okay?”

“I think he’s excited to see Ingenium in person,” Tenya clarifies, and it breaks the dam loose of Izuku’s brief exposition of past achievements and admirations. It continues on until Ochako nudges him that he’s getting a little carried away, and he lowers his head in a flustered apology. Tensei can see the pride shining through on his little brother from his friend’s praise, and his smile softens.

“Well, he gets to see Ingenium every day, doesn’t he?” Tensei bumps his fist lightly against Tenya’s arm and turns to face Izuku. “Nowadays, I’m not doing so much heroics.”

“That doesn’t change anything,” Izuku’s wide grin remains. “Heroes, active or retired, still have so much to teach us. All Might’s my favorite hero, and he’s been retired for a couple of years now.”

“He’s right. I still hold onto what I’ve learned from you,” Tenya agrees, and he’s satisfied to know that Tensei doesn’t necessarily need the encouragement. If anything, Tensei’s concerns lie with his little brother’s expectations for himself; he’s keeping the hero name alive, but he understands well the burden it brings.

“You’re going to make me blush,” he chuckles to both his brother and Izuku. “You all are on a schedule, right? Go ahead and take a seat at the table. I know it’s closer to lunch, but I hope you’re fine with a late breakfast instead.”

They all comply gleefully and gather around the table, but Tenya offers to help serve the food with his mother and brother. The three return to the table with bowls of rice, soup, vegetables, and separate serving plates for the fish. Once Mrs. Iida has placed the pitchers of water and orange juice, they all sit together and help themselves to the nice breakfast with words of warmth and gratitude.

“I’m so happy U.A. is giving you kids this break,” Mrs. Iida speaks softly. “Tenya has always been such a diligent worker, but even heroes need holidays.” Izuku watches how her gaze lingers on her sons, and he can understand the sentiment from a hero family like theirs. “And Tensei has been so busy at the office that I hardly see him anymore. I didn’t even know that he stopped seeing that nice--”

“Ah, we don’t need to talk about that!” Tensei pipes in a bit flustered, and she sighs.

“It’s a shame it didn’t work out.”

“It’s no big deal,” Tensei retracts a little in his nervous smile. The others chuckle, and Izuku sees from the corner of his eye as Shouto pulls out his phone. He scrolls through his pictures, chopsticks still guiding food to his mouth, and as he finds what he’s searching for, he turns the screen toward the older Iida.

“I have a sister.”

“T-That’s not necessary, thank you!”

“Oh, let me see,” his mother adjusts her glasses and takes a look. She places her hand on her cheek fondly, “She’s lovely! Tensei, isn’t she cute?”

“Mother, please,” he waves his chopsticks at her in a lighthearted scold.

He pockets his phone and addresses Tenya with the same neutral expression, “A shame. We could have been in-laws.” The group laughs at the joke but apologizes to Tensei for having it at his expense. They have to explain that Shouto is just like that with his humor. Mrs. Iida’s worries wash away in the company of her sons and their friends, and Tenya catches himself in its flow. The fear she’s gone through from almost losing her sons is far more than she should have to bear.

They finish their meal through lively conversation, but they know better than to dawdle too long in their post-breakfast coffee. Everyone but Shouto and Izuku take a cup, so they attempt to down it quickly without risking a burn. Tensei breaks from the table to grab something from the living room, and he returns to Tenya’s side to gently place the keys on the table in time for the rest of them to stand. The former hero knows how to predict timing better than Tenya can remember; his skills never truly stop improving just because they’re applied a tad differently now.

Mrs. Iida wishes them all a safe trip, hands holding themselves over her stomach as she bids them farewell, and Tensei follows behind to give his brother one last hug. Before they leave, Shouto steps forward, leans down a bit, and mutters something about having brothers, too. Tensei waves his hands exclaiming that that isn’t the issue here.

Ochako holds out her arms toward his back and groans that he can’t keep getting away with it, and the rest laugh, apologize again for their friend’s comments, and tug him by the arm on their way out.

“Seatbelts, everyone! Be sure to leave the strap in front of you, even if you find it a bit uncomfortable,” Tenya adjusts the mirrors once he’s fastened his own, and he takes a glance to the backseat where Tsuyu sits with snacks occupying her lap and Ochako and Shouto on either side of her. Izuku occupies the passenger seat of the boxy white van, practically bouncing in excitement as the real start to their trip feels ready to roll.

“Todoroki, don’t lean against the window if you’re going to sleep -- don’t give me that look -- it isn’t safe. You can recline your seat if you need to.” Tenya uses his hands to indicate the motion, and Shouto blinks slowly as if debating the argument before complying to his friend’s wishes. With that out of the way, Tenya starts the engine and pulls out from the street to start navigating toward the highway.

Traffic interrupts their forward motion so long that Tsuyu entertains the idea of making the car float until Tenya lists every possible reason why that is a horrible mistake, and she settles him down to tell him she’s only joking. Izuku keeps himself turned around in his seat to face the back and make small talk between the rest of them still awake. He volleys conversations about Christmas lights displays and that one year when All Might appeared dressed as Santa Claus for a charity event. Ochako is relieved that she doesn’t have to halt his eagerness this time, so they listen soundly as he recounts memories until they approach the highway.

Once they disperse from the cluttering cars, Izuku reaches a stopping point in his story and asks if anyone has music to play while he takes a sip from his drink. Ochako gladly connects her phone to the speakers and sets it to a playlist created specifically for their winding adventure.

There’s something about the open road that makes a voice belt until it cracks.

Ochako and Izuku exchange harmonies and duets, hands extending in theatrics as if playing the part of dramatic pop songs about love and longing. When they aren’t serenading each other, they’re flipping between Tenya and Tsuyu as their objects of adoration; the former flusters far more easily than the latter, especially with Izuku’s hand extending to grip his shoulder and beckon eye contact that sends the ever responsible driver into a sputtering safety lesson in maintaining a loving gaze with the road.

Tsuyu is the first to break open the snacks as she helps herself to one of the green tea mochi, and out of the corner of her eye, she can swear she sees a sleeping Shouto scowling. Her large finger points to him with a ribbit to the others, and Ochako, without needing any other word, plucks her phone from her lap and snaps a picture. While she’s at it, she takes a selfie with her froggy companion with a declaration that she wants a group photo as soon as possible.

A moment of crisis can feel like a lifetime, but between the laughter and loosening of responsibility, the same could be said for its serenity. Izuku rolls his window down despite the cold air whipping through to feel the wind pull back his curls for once without danger on the other end. Maybe it’s his sunny disposition or the sheer freedom of the feeling, but he almost doesn’t notice how winter sinks its teeth into his skin. Almost.

When he’s turned back around to face his friends, he sees Tsuyu leaning against Shouto’s left side with her arms burrowed beneath her thick poncho. Only an hour and a half on the road so far, about four remaining until they reach Ochako’s hometown. He decides to spare his friends the cold and rolls up his window and runs his hands through his hair to settle it back into its organized mess.

“Does anyone need to stop?” Tenya asks as he takes a quick scan through the rearview mirror. There’s an unanimous no until Ochako notices that their snack pile has sufficiently decreased. She follows the trail of open bags to see the garbage pile around Shouto’s feet, still and motionless in his sleep.

“Are you kidding me?” She stretches her arms across and cannot resist the humor of it as she laughs. “How is that even possible?”

“I take credit for the mochi and fruit snacks, but…” she ribbits, “he would make a good stealth hero.”

“So no one needs to use the bathroom or restock on drinks?” Tenya asks again, and he’s met with the same response, so he continues without paying exits any mind. The next few songs pass in a humming calm; however, when a familiar, catchy beat starts up, Ochako commands Izuku to turn up the volume so they can return to their second round of dancing in their seats.

This time, they aren’t the only ones singing along.

A third voice joins almost too harmoniously, too perfect. Ochako knows for a fact it isn’t her, so she lowers her own volume to try and hear, and Izuku naturally does the same. With both of them ruled out, they look to Shouto, still asleep, and finally arrive to hear Tenya singing solo before he catches onto their gazing. He fades out and stiffens his shoulders, wondering if he’s missed some sort of cue for a pause, but both of them are trapped in their own bewilderment until Izuku raises the volume and returns singing at his natural level.

The three of them finish the song, then Tenya is bombarded with their joined praise.

“Iida! Why didn’t you tell us you could sing like that?!” Ochako exclaims as his face melts into a proud smile, and he chuckles.

“I never thought it would come up,” he admits, “it has nothing to do with hero work, after all.”

“The Singing Hero, Ingenium,” Tsuyu comments with her finger to her mouth, tongue sticking out in a lighthearted manner.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he says as checks the road behind and merges into the other lane, using both his blinker and a hand signal as if the car behind would see, “but I think there’s a great charm in how the both of you put so much energy behind your voices.”

Freckled cheeks blush from the acknowledgement, a certain shyness coming from knowing that someone with a smooth baritone voice has to be subjected to his own inexperienced yodeling. It doesn’t stop him from singing along to the next few songs, of course. If anything, now the trio can mentally agree on who sings what harmonies, and their dramatics now get to target a snuggled up Tsuyu Asui with her large hand cupping the side of her face.

After another song or two, Izuku turns in his seat to face Ochako and asks her to pass that AUX cord, and she eagerly rips it from the jack to hand him. He plugs it in, adjusts the volume to not completely blast their ear drums, and smashes his thumb on the play button to welcome All Might’s signature I am here! introducing one of his interviews.

Have mercy, they should have known this was coming.

Ochako may have taken it back from him then and there, but the way his face lights up is enough to reach an agreement to let their fluffy haired nerd listen to his favorite hero and share interview highlights with his friends. He gushes throughout, explaining references between questions and answers. When the first one ends, he follows it up with an old news report, then leads it into a second interview.

“…That’s right! Children inherit quirks from their parents,” All Might’s voice explains, and the car is quiet as they listen until a low voice almost talks over him.

“Can you turn it up?” they turn to see Shouto Todoroki’s eyes still closed, but his lips are turned slightly in a quiet smile. Izuku complies without question.

About three hours in, they pull into a gas station for a pit stop. They stretch and shuffle into the the convenient store as the attendant tends to their gas. Izuku finishes up his business and finds Shouto in the pre-packaged lunches, and gives him a bump of their arms.

“I can’t believe you’re a ninja,” he jokes, and Shouto turns to him, perplexed. “Still hungry?”

“Always,” he answers flatly as his hand hovers between rice balls and pickled vegetables.

“Do you feel more awake now?” Izuku asks as a cold right hand picks up the vegetables, and he’s met with dual colored eyes making contact with his own now, and he nods. Before they can continue the mundane conversation, Tsuyu locates them and taps Izuku’s shoulder.

“You should get whatever you need. We’re wanting to head out now,” she relays the message, most likely from Tenya waiting at the car. Then without even looking at him, she addresses the empty-handed teaser. “Pants, Izuku.”

“What!” he immediately checks himself and notes the dampness on his thigh with a contained shriek, “I swear, it’s not what you think!”

She parts from them without another word, and he hangs his head and promises that it’s from washing his hands. Shouto makes his purchase and passes Izuku a can of green tea from under his arm, and when they return to the car, Ochako has already claimed the passenger seat for herself.

“It’ll be easier if I can direct us when we’re in the area,” she clarifies before anyone can try debating, but no one questions it. Shouto readjusts his seat when he slips in after Tsuyu, and she cozies herself between the two with an obvious preference leaning toward her right.

“Tsuyu, do you need us to put on the heater?” Ochako asks once they merge back onto the road, and before she can answer, Shouto shrugs his shoulder to keep it pressed a little closer to her side.

“I can keep the car warm. Just pass me your jackets if you need me to heat them up,” he clenches and unclenches his left hand. Almost immediately, Ochako tugs off her varsity jacket and tosses it at his face, earning nothing short of an Ah before he pulls it down and regulates the heat around his arm. Izuku watches like he’s preparing for a quirk application lesson, and soon enough, the jacket is thrown back to its keeper in the same manner.

“Thanks, man!” she catches it and immediately nuzzles her face into the warm fabric with a an almost operatic note. “It’s like it just came out of the dryer! This is amazing!”

“If you’re sure you don’t mind, is this okay?” Tsuyu asks before linking her arm around his to feed off some of his body heat. He nods, and a noticeable smile spreads on her wide lips as she ribbits and presses her cold nose on his sleeve for a few seconds until it’s warm enough to loosen her hold on him.

“Is everyone else okay?” he asks, both charcoal and cerulean eyes passing over each passenger. When Izuku and Tenya tell him not to worry about them, he brings his attention to his lap to open his container of vegetables and start eating.

“Okay, so before you all drop me off at my parents’ apartment, I need to stop somewhere to change,” Ochako starts the rundown of her scheme. “I guess we can check you into the hotel first and then head over? That way I can get ready, and it isn’t like all of you have to be there to drop me off.”

“Are you kidding? Of course we’re all going to be there!” Izuku protests, and before she can wave her hands to deny, Tsuyu chimes in.

“You’re stuck with us, Ochako.”

“You guys,” her cheeks redden, and she presses her palms to her face. Tenya glances over with endearment plastered over his features. If he wasn’t so dedicated to keeping both hands gripped at 10-and-2, he may very well reach over to touch her shoulder.

“How do you think your parents are going to react?” Tsuyu asks.

“I don’t know! I’m sure one or both of them will tear up,” she giggles. “I may end up needing to call you back to do some immediate first aid if I surprise them too much,” she turns to Shouto with his mouth full of pickles. He chews and swallows at least before responding.

“For you or for them?”

The car is quiet before she cracks up laughing, interpreting the question as an indirect jab at her own explosive reactions. “For them! I’m not that bad!” He accepts the answer without any further comment or question as if he’s caught himself.

“Does your family have any sort of traditions for the holidays?” Tenya asks in a lighthearted tone.

“Nothing outside the house,” she mulls over memories. “If Mom had time, sometimes she would pull out these cute cookie cutters and we’d bake together. Oh! And hot pot when it’s really cold!”

The rest of the car shares a fantasy of hot pot, and she catches herself joining into the hum.

“How about the rest of you?” she turns in her seat to get a better look.

“Because we wouldn’t have school, I’d have to find ways to keep my siblings entertained,” Tsuyu explains. “I used to take them out to see some lights and decorations if any shops or streets put them on display, but mostly we’d try to stay inside as much as possible with movies.”

Her voice catches in her throat as a memory interrupts her thought, and her tongue slips past her lips. “I remember one year Samidare was dead-set on having a snowball fight until Satsuki hit him right in the face with one. We didn’t last long,” she laughs, and Izuku’s face brightens at the story.

“Sometimes I forget you have siblings,” he admits, and she turns to him with her cheek leaning on her fingertip.

“Sometimes I wish I could, too.”

“How about you, Deku?” Ochako prods him next for traditions, and he catches himself in a nervous laugh as he fidgets with his hands.

“Mom always supported my interests, so I must have gushed about Christmas after seeing a few specials because she started picking up on some of the traditions. We have this fake tree that we’ll decorate, we bake cookies, and she likes to make custom sweaters for us that seem to get tackier and tackier every year,” he scrunches his nose as if embarrassed, but he finds it hard to fight the smile.

“You wore one last year,” Tsuyu points out, and he points back.

“Yeah! She actually mentioned making one for All Might this year,” his bright smile softens.

“Woah, Deku. I didn’t know your mom and All Might were close,” Ochako pokes at his leg from her seat, and he chuckles.

“I didn’t either. I just found out that she visits him pretty regularly!”

“Midoriya, are you sure you aren’t All Might’s l--”

“I’m not!” Izuku cuts Shouto off with a break in his voice, always comical in nature. Tsuyu ribbits curiously as if asking about this inside joke, but his flustered face waves away any possible questioning.

“What about you, Iida?” Ochako asks the original topic starter. He ponders a moment as he decides what constitutes holiday tradition as opposed to cold weather tradition, and he decides that it essentially boils down to the same thing.

“We exchange gifts with each other, and some years, my father takes the night off to spend with my mother. Tensei and I might call each other, but there weren’t too many chances for us to all be together when I was growing up.”

“A hero family must be pretty busy, huh?”

“Busy, but not lonely,” he clarifies with genuine pride. He looks in the mirror toward Shouto and opens his grin as if to relate the sentiment, but he quickly tightens his lip when he sees his friend turned toward the window. “Even if we couldn’t be together, we would find ways to make it up. That’s the kind of sentiment I hope to carry for those around me, as well.”

“Aw, I definitely feel it!” Ochako nudges his arm gently with her fist.

“What about you, Todoroki?” Tsuyu glances over to see his head still turned away, and his right arm drops from the car door to return to his lap, but she feels his left arm heat up a little more. As he turns his head toward them, they watch carefully until his expression reveals itself as something akin to Class B’s Neito Monoma in all his petty glee. They lose it in a blurt of shock, save for Tsuyu who bluntly tells him he’s making a scary face and that he needs to stop.

He intends to leave it at that, but Tenya Iida needs a bit more of a real answer since he almost slammed down on the brakes from everyone’s shrieking. His expression eases down into a typical-Todoroki-scowl, and he sighs.

“Sometimes Fuyumi comes home with candy from her students,” the answer doesn’t match his expression, but they accept it in fear of deviating down an uncomfortable path. Still, they cannot help but wonder what that almost victorious sneer was about. Only Izuku can possibly imagine it has something to do with Endeavor, but he keeps it to himself as they remark how the students must adore her to send her home with treats for the holidays.

The season calls the sky back down so much sooner than before, and they catch sight of a peeking moon overhead despite daylight hours still too stubborn to give. They drive onward in softer tones and dryer throats, but spirits rise at sundown. As the sun descends lower in the flurries of pinks, oranges, and yellows, Izuku watches with a sparkle in his eyes and fingertips pressed to the glass as he takes in the colors and changes. He pulls out his phone and preserves the feeling to his memory, sending a copy over to All Might; he wonders if the sky back home looks quite this vibrant.

Unbeknownst to him, Ochako has taken a picture of him, as well.

Nightfall takes over the city as they unlock the door to their hotel room and drop all their bags near the desk table. Tsuyu leaps onto the bed and rolls over onto her back with a series of relieved ribbits while Ochako begins digging through her bag and shoving a set of red and white clothes into her arms before making a beeline for the bathroom.They hear the lock click, and everyone else settles in the room with their own curiosities.

Izuku pulls the curtain apart to take a look at their scenic view of the neighboring building’s wall, and Tenya unpacks his thicker overcoat from his luggage to lay out on the unoccupied bed. He spreads his palms over the front to even out the folds and wrinkles, then tackles it with a wrinkle release spray drawn almost too swiftly from his bag. Satisfied with its freshened aesthetic, he takes it to the closet and hangs it loosely.

“I suggest we bundle a little more when we drop Ochako off,” he turns his attention to the other three, and Izuku deviates from the window to retrieve his knit cap and fingerless gloves from the plethora of folded hoodies that seemingly take up the bulk of his belongings. Tsuyu doesn’t need much reminding, but Shouto makes no movements to wear more than his sweatshirt and scarf.

“If I wear too much, I’ll get too hot,” he explains as he casts his eyes down to his left hand before Tenya can lay it on him. He looks back up with an unwarranted amount of seriousness for whatever nonsense he’s about to joke with, but a loud burst from the bathroom door cuts him off.

“Ho ho ho!” Ochako bellows, decked in full Santa gear including a thick, snow-white beard. “I am here!”

“That’s not what Santa says,” Tsuyu corrects, but Izuku is already fanboying at the reference with wide eyes and hands pressed to his mouth.

“And you’re positive that your parents won’t believe you to be some sort of intruder or possible threat?” Tenya asks after his initial exclamations and claps of Bravo!

“Our first year, they came crawling at me when I opened the door to my apartment like they were monsters in a horror movie,” she tugs the beard down to talk more clearly, “I think they can deal with a nonthreatening Santa suit and gifts.”

“Is everybody ready?” dark, wide eyes scan the hotel room for anyone still rummaging through folded clothes. Affirmations cross their lips, one by one, and Tsuyu ribbits in her own on her way toward the door, sure to hold it open for Ochako and her bag of presents.

Her bubbly disposition nearly intoxicates everyone as they catch themselves in smiles on their way to the car; even the hotel staff wish them a Merry Christmas with a chuckle upon seeing her march proudly with one black boot in front of the other. Tsuyu walks along beside her long enough for Ochako to sling a crimson sleeved arm around her shoulders as she gives another hearty laugh into the wintry night air.

The boys walking behind don’t know if they’ve ever seen her so proud of herself.

Ochako Uraraka doesn’t realize how loud a car door slam resounds when she’s standing outside her parents’ apartment complex in the quiet evening. Wind catches hold of her so quick that she has to press her palm onto her hat to keep everything in place, and she shivers one last time before she hears the window roll down with a car full of friends cheering her on in their own ways. She turns with her mittened hand on her heart and converts it to a fist she can pump back at them. A quick pivot on her heel, and she trudges onward toward the stairs up to the third floor with her sack of presents slapping against her back.

If she’s lucky, her parents won’t be home quite yet. Maybe she could exact her vengeance with giving them a little scare; however, when she unlocks the door and slips the keyring back into her pocket, she sees a light kept low from down the hall. Ochako kicks her boots off as quickly as she can and announces herself before anyone can come see what all the noise is. Instead, she hears no response and decides to investigate the source of the light.

Upon peeking through the entryway of their living room, she sees a small, illuminated tree kept on the end table of the small room. No decorations or natural scent, but she takes a seat beside it on the sofa and feels the soft glow in her eyes as she relaxes from excitement into a mellow calm. Padded fingertips tap the lights as she ponders when they decided to start decorating and why, but this appears to be the only one. Perhaps a co-worker gifted it, or maybe a client. She doesn’t know, but part of her can’t help but miss her parents even more.

These past three years have shaped her into the confident heroine she is now, but how much have they changed that she couldn’t perceive through calls and videos? Do they still bake cookies without her? Do they work later hours without a daughter to rush home to? At least they’ve seen her hair’s growth over the years or else she may worry that they won’t recognize her. A fleeting thought that forfeits her blank, half lidded eyes into rest as she sighs contentedly.

She pulls her phone out to let her friends know that they can head out since she’s still waiting on her parents to return. They wish her well and tell her that if she needs them for anything, they’ll be there without hesitation. Another wave of emotion washes over her as she reads over their individual responses in the group chat, and she can’t help but laugh a little when even Shouto sends his support when she knows well he’s supposed to be driving.

A clock’s tick occupies the living room in her absent-minded scrolling through social media until she hears the drop, lift, and jingling keys from behind the door. Quick to her feet, she lifts her bag of gifts and decides to make use of their small tree decoration as if she’s been caught in the middle of her Kris Kringling duties. Holding her position, she keeps her face turned toward the entryway to their den, and hearing her mother’s voice question the black boots at the door starts up her heavier pulse.

Waiting proves to be far too much for one eager Santa to handle, so she springs to her steps and meets them halfway in the hall -- her in the red and white suit with a clutched sack of gifts over her shoulder and them with their best horror faces ready to terrify whatever foolish intruder dared enter the Uraraka household alone. All three shriek upon seeing one another, but Ochako’s merges into mirthful laughter.

“Merry Christmas!” she extends an arm, and they recognize her voice immediately and practically sprint toward her with their own latching around their daughter. She yelps into their tight grasp and nearly drops the bag. Mr. Uraraka’s arms wrap around the two of them and lift them momentarily before he has to set them back down and stretch a little; euphoric energy can only do so much after a long day’s work.

“Ochako, what is all this?” Mrs. Uraraka holds her shoulders and rubs the red fabric of the Santa Suit as she eyes her down. On the way back up, her hands move to the curly beard, and she tugs at it with laughter as tears well up in the corners of her eyes. Ochako can hardly formulate the words, so she smothers her mother’s hand with her own mittened one and leads them both to the living room where she sits them down on the sofa.

Ochako Uraraka coughs and lowers her voice to mimic an idea of the iconic character.

“For the last eighteen years, you’ve both been very, very good to your daughter. And every year, she’s written me a letter pleading for even one small token to repay them. Finally, we worked out a deal, she and I,” she laughs and sets the bag down, rummaging through and holding out a present addressed to both of them. She takes a shuddering breath as she tries to keep up her character and composure through the emotional surge sending sparks within her heart. “If she worked hard and never gave up, then this would be the year she could deliver them herself.”

Her mother is already crying, hands covering her mouth as the tears slip down her cheeks, and her father’s jaw hangs loose once he’s said her name. They’re rendered speechless in their daughter’s charity, and they graciously accept her present and unwrap it together.

Within the box is a tropical themed postcard, and they turn it over to read:

I’m sorry I can’t take you to Hawaii yet. Personally, I don’t know if the sun out there can compete with the three of us. We’ll be here soon. I promise.

Mr. and Mrs. Uraraka cannot fight their smiles; they turn the card over again and again, watching their daughter pull out various gifts from her bag and placing them on their corresponding sides. An even amount: three packages for each parent.

With her hands empty, Ochako dons her beard in full and urges her parents to indulge with her sparkling stare. Only after she claps her mittens do they chuckle and comply. The gifts aren’t especially flashy or expensive, but they’re thoughtful. Nice fragrances, coffee and mugs, small appliances, accessories, anything she could squeeze into a few bags and boxes within her budget. They comment and compare, especially with a set of matching mugs, and she watches as her parents hold their gifts carefully in their overworked hands.

What she wouldn’t give to offer them a real holiday.

They set the gifts aside, and Mrs. Uraraka holds out her arms. Before Ochako can bend closer, her father tugs her into them, and the three meld into each other’s embrace. They haven’t had time to turn the heater on between all of this, yet they don’t even notice the chilly air when they’re together.

“We love you,” her mother tightens her hold, “so much.”

“I know, Mama,” Ochako sniffles into their shoulders, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” her father pets her hat affectionately, and they stay a little longer until he tugs it off and wears it himself. Before their daughter can protest, Mrs. Uraraka snatches the beard and snaps it around her own face with her hands coming together in a playful clap.

“No, my secret identity!” she jokes and covers her face as she sinks to the floor. Her parents imitate her laughter from earlier with their hands on their bellies, and one pulls her up while the other fetches the light.

“Honey, can you grab those mugs and the new oven mitts?” Mr. Uraraka calls from the kitchen once he’s turned on the light. Mrs. Uraraka calls back gleefully and beckons Ochako to follow them, brightly patterned mitts in tow. He’s already pulling out sugar, butter, eggs, and other ingredients, and it doesn’t take long for the other two to catch on to his plan. “I know our Santa’s already come, but we can’t let her leave without some cookies.”

“Santa accepts your offering,” she beams with rosey cheeks blooming darker.

The three of them work together to mix the dough, roll them into balls of varying sizes, and nearly watch the oven like it’s the season finale of their favorite drama as they all bake into one unified mess. Ochako decides to cut them apart using the old cookie cutters, and once they’re cooled off, the family shares their snacks with mugs of hot chocolate and a gratuitous amount of marshmallows scattered atop.

She knows it isn’t magic because she’s worked hard, but Ochako Uraraka doesn’t mind sharing the credit with all the support her family and friends have offered her to get here. Every word of praise, every hand reaching out, and every shared smile, invaluable; she knows she wants to be the type of hero who can let those around her rest easy.

And if the three of them snoozing through their own sleepy snores is any indication, then she’s well on her way.

#long post / #again sorry about any weird formatting! #thankfully i actually have an account on ao3 now so I'll put these on there eventually ;; #also. #I had to rewatch episode 23 again for that quote and I'm not even kidding I've seen the episode like 11 times now. #bnha #also sorry about any mistakes! I tried to catch them all but I know I probably missed some things!