Training
Training
Shinzawa x fem!reader
Summary: ShinZawa rush home to their pretty new kitten.
So many of you have been asking for another ShinZawa x reader one-shot so I tried something a little newer than what I’ve written before. I hope this does not disappoint! Thank you for reading!
Warnings: NSFW. 18+ only. Minors DNI. Aged-up Characters, threesome (mmf), fingering, oral (f receiving), pet play, inexperienced!reader, sub!reader, slightlyinexperienceddom!Shinso, experienceddom!Aizawa, lessons on sex, overstimulation, pet names (pet, kitten, kitty, kitty cat, pussy cat), bondage, spanking, humiliation, toy use (vibrator, anal plug, cat costume, leash, collar), slight manipulation, slight water sports, sadisticdom!Aizawa, bukkake, cum eating. Please let me know if I forgot anything! Hope you enjoy and remember to show some love by liking, commenting, and reblogging!
Word Count: 3.2K
"We’re late," Hitoshi sing-songs to Shota as they run through the crowd, their eyes set on the amateur purse snatcher they’re after.
"Nothing we can do about that now," Shota grumbled. His wrist flicks his capture weapon out, the material snapping around the person’s ankle and pulling them to the ground. "The kitten’s fine. She can wait a bit longer."
"Think so?" Hitoshi asks as he gets close enough to bring his boot down on the thief’s wrist, preventing them from reaching out for the dropped bag once again. They groan in pain, activating their quirk to summon a dagger of light in their other palm. They swipe the blade of energy at Hitoshi’s leg, cursing at him all the while.
"Fucking meddling heroes!" They scream, blindly wielding their weapon. "Can’t mind your own fucking business! I—" Their screeching comes to an abrupt halt, their eyes dulling and muscles relaxing.
Hitoshi sighs, aggravated by the lack of a challenge and disappointed with the abundance of stupidity. If he was going to be spending his time away from home, away from his new kitten, then he wanted the patrol to be worth his time. "I didn’t even have to trick you into opening your big, fat, fucking mouth." It’s not a moment later that Aizawa is slapping a pair of quirk-canceling cuffs onto their wrists, ending the shit-show of a robbery quickly. Hitoshi silently commands their perp to stand, guiding them to follow wordlessly to the nearest precinct. Shinso is quick to pick up their conversation again. "I just hate leaving her all alone. She’s still in the training phase."
"That’s how kittens learn," Shota reminds. "We can’t be home 24/7. She needs to learn how to behave even when we’re not there."
Hitoshi’s shoulders slump and he heaves out another sigh. "I know, I know. I still hate it though. Her little sad eyes and pitiful mews are like fucking daggers to the heart." Aizawa raises an eyebrow at the pun, but whether Hitoshi meant it as such, he doesn’t address it, so neither does the older hero.
"You’ll spoil her," the dark-haired man scoffs. "You can’t just pamper her. You gotta look away from the eyes."
The deep-seated sigh that escapes the lavender-haired man’s mouth causes the sensei to roll his good eye in exhaustion over the same tired argument. "But what if she hates the potty pad and won’t use it? Or what if—"
"Look, kid, you gotta trust me, okay?" Aizawa interrupts. "I’ve been through this before. She’ll learn. The training phase will be over sooner if you don’t coddle, alright?"
Hitoshi agrees with the older man, but his tone is less convincing. Not that it matters much as there is little that can be done about it now. They’re already late, the few minutes it takes to make it back home won’t make much difference. But their kitten will be fine in the amount of time it takes to travel to their shared apartment.
Once they open the door, they’re greeted with the sight of their pretty new kitten, sitting right where they left her before their patrol shift. Hitoshi chuckles at the sight and coos at the little creature, quickly making his way over to pat her head and scratch behind her ear.
"Hello, kitten, did you have a good day without us?" Aizawa snorts at the question, knowing they won’t receive a verbal answer. He looks over your quivering form and the puddle beneath you. Your face is flushed in humiliation and tears trek down your face, your eyes glassy as you look up at the two men. Shota tries his best to ward off the obvious sadistic pleasure he gets at seeing you still bound to your spot on the floor and the potty pad they left under you full, but he can’t help the twisted upturn of his lips at the sight. "Aww, see, sensei? We were gone too long! Our kitty cat made a mess of herself." Hitoshi grants mercy upon you and switches off the vibrator taped to your overstimulated pussy, slowly pulling it off. You’re finally able to catch your breath, and you attempt to gulp down cleansing breaths but the muzzle over the bottom half of your face makes it hard to do so.
Aizawa squats down to your level, observing the golden pool beneath you. His huge hand cups your throat, the touch gentle but the power evident by the simple display. His gaze gauges you, his head tilting to the side as he wordlessly watches you. "I’m gonna take this off, and you’re gonna be our good girl, yes?" His eyes bore into you, waiting for a response. You finally nod. "And good girls don’t speak unless told to, correct?" You nod again, knowing better than to hesitate a second time. Aizawa smirks, lightly patting the side of your face approvingly. "There we go. We’re learning." His fingers work the clasps of the maw-shaped muzzle, gently working the suffocating contraption off your face. The moment you’re released from the muzzle, you gulp greedily at the fresh air, the unobstructed oxygen filling straight into your lungs. Good thing too. You weren’t sure how much longer you could have been in that thing while being so close to panicking. He gives you a moment to catch your breath, scratching gently behind the ears clipped into your hair. "Now, how long have you been sitting in your mess?" You blush brightly at the acknowledgment, but you refuse to look down at the evidence of your indiscipline. You look towards the oven’s digital clock, and your shoulders slump when knowing the answer.
"T-two hours, sir," you whisper. Your voice is rough and quiet, not only from disuse but also from the lack of hydration. Using the little cat water bowl was much harder to do with the leather muzzle on. You try your best to ignore Hitoshi hissing through his teeth at your answer. Shota tsks and shakes his head.
"Did you get permission to relieve yourself?" He asks. You hesitantly shake your head. His hand claps down on your thigh and you jump. "Words. We use words now. You speak when we’re not actively playing pet. We took you out of pet play when I asked you a direct question and you answered with words. We’re training, so this is the only time I’ll be telling you this. You’ll go back to being a speechless pet when I say so. You understand?"
You go to nod again but manage to stop yourself and mutter, "Yes, sir."
"I’ll ask again," he says lowly, his fist closing around your throat once more, but not so gently this time. "Did you have permission to go?"
"No, sir," you barely manage the words, your voice shaking almost as much as your thighs.
"You got anything else in here?" Shota pokes at your tummy harshly. Before you can respond, Hitoshi slides behind you, an arm caging around your shoulders and pressing your back flush against the front of his body as his other hand presses down on your bladder, pushing out anything remaining. You whine as the last of your piss dribbles onto the overfilled potty pad, the warm liquid tickling over your extra-sensitive cunt. Your thighs tremble harshly, your hands clenching against them and pulling at the restraints keeping your wrists attached to your thighs. Hitoshi laughs at your struggle. He presses your body back into his own once more, hands roaming your rope-clad figure. He squeezes the bits of flesh that spill over the tight bindings and runs his fingers delicately over your quaking thighs. Shota grabs the leash hooked to the collar around your neck, giving the material a yank.
"Sorry, kitten," he sighs, "but you have to learn." He’s not sorry. Not at all. He was actually elated that his plan was executed perfectly. It’s why he insisted they finish their patrol without skimping the final few minutes. That’s why he made Hitoshi chase that last criminal with him, the one before that, and the one before that, despite going over their scheduled patrol time. And as he tugs on that leash cord taut, your collar straining against your pretty neck as he pulls you over his lap, he knows it’s all worth it.
He loves having you on your knees, shuffling across the floor on reddened shins towards the bedroom. He loves the sight of your sticky thighs as they press together shamefully. He loves bending you over his lap. He loves that the angle shows off your pussy glistening with your creamy juices and golden release with your perky ass pressed into a presenting pose. The view reminds him exactly why you were the perfect pick for their pretty new kitten. So eager to please that you didn’t even object to your alleged mistake. Good pet owners are better about punctuality so they can take care of their helpless babies. But their precious pussy cat is just accepting her punishment without arguing like a brat. Oh, yes, you were definitely the right choice. And now, Shota can take this opportunity to teach Hitoshi how a good owner disciplines their kitten.
Aizawa’s rough fingers dig into Shinso’s cheeks as he pulls the younger hero’s reluctant attention onto him instead of your dripping heat. "Pay attention, Toshi," he whispers. "How many do you think she deserves for making such a big mess with permission?"
"Well," Hitoshi starts, voice strained looking down at your dirty ass, "we were late."
Shota lets out a heavy sigh. "And good kittens should know better. We laid out the rules, it’s her job to follow them."
"But isn’t that unreasonable?" Hitoshi asks, a push-over whine to his tone.
"I was gonna give her five, but ten it is," Shota decides. Hitoshi looks as if he wants to protest, but Shota doesn’t leave room for argument. "If we’re not strict with her in the early days then we have a brat on our hands. You want that, Toshi?"
Hitoshi’s lip quirks up at the corners, imagining his bratty little kitten. "Well…"
"No." A rough, calloused hand smoothes down the globes of your cheeks, goosebumps following its trail. You do your best to remain still, knowing he’ll be harsher on you if you flinch away. You’re a quick learner that way. His fingers wind the leash around them, yanking at the fabric. You look up at your master with wide, innocent eyes; the kind of eyes that make his pants tighter. He pinches the sides of your face between his fingers, blunt nails lightly digging into your cheeks. He speaks slowly, ensuring your little, kitty mind comprehends his next words. "We’re back in pet play. The only sound you can make is cat noises. I only wanna hear your little meows, kitten. Understand me?" You nod, offering a small mewl and nuzzling your cheek into his palm.
It was like a switch went off in your head the moment he confirmed pet play was back on. Your movements become more fluid, more soft, more cat-like. You really play into your role as their pretty pet so well. And when Hitoshi slowly works the fluffy, pink toy into your puckered hole, you easily arch your back as if he were playing with your actual tail. You slip into your kitten mind-space so easily, that it’s as if the paws and tailpiece were mere extensions of your body. Hitoshi was so nice to lube up the toy for you, but his quick work-in of the plug leaves your hole to clench around it, keeping it snug and in place. When Hitoshi tugs at the tail, it feels as if it’s a part of your body and you arch with it, presenting prettily over Shota’s lap. Hitoshi’s fingers comb through the toy’s fluffy fur before his touches scratch up to your back. His digits work your sore limbs out of the restraints strapping your wrists to your thighs. He works at the stiff muscles in your arms as you stretch after so long being in one position. You practically purr at the comforting attention the lavender-haired man gives you.
"Cut it out," the older man snaps at Shinso. "This isn’t a treat. You’ll confuse kitten." Hitoshi sighs before pulling his hand away. You resist the urge to whimper. Instead, you pull your arms over Shota’s thigh, resting your head over them and burying your face atop your paws. The raven-haired man meanly tugs your tail out of the way before he grips at one of your ass cheeks roughly. He leans down, whispering softly, "Ten, and then you’re done, kitten. I know you can do it, pet." You nod into the fluffy paws covering your fists, taking a deep breath to prepare. His hand pulls back, hanging in the air for a moment of anticipation before clapping down onto your left cheek. Your shoulders tense but otherwise you don’t move. The force was fairly light, the sting dissipating faster than you thought, but the reprieve was short-lived after the light test hit. His hand comes down firmer the second time, your asscheek reverberating with the smack and the sound resonating through the room. Lucky for you, the clap covers your tiny, unintentional squeak that slips from the force. Despite the bite blossoming through your ass, you arch your back more, giving your masters easier access to do what they wish.
Shota can't help the breathy chuckle that escapes, pleased by your easy compliance. The next series of strikes are quick and painful, the power behind them leaving your skin red and welting. His hand shifts between each cheek before his hits come down onto the back of your thighs. You can't keep the squealing and squirming down for those. Aizawa shifts you onto your back across his legs after the eighth swat before his palm slaps between your thighs. Your back arches off his legs, your head throwing back at the tingling sting spreading through your lower region. And Shota smirks at this, sadistic joy blooming in his chest as he watches you writhe and whimper in his lap. One more spank between your legs and he's done.
He admires the tears that stream down your cheeks, the way your bare chest heaves when trying to catch your breath. His eyes drift up to Hitoshi's, reveling in the unbridled amazement in his gaze. Shota knows that the younger man has never been a dom for anyone before, the closest he came were the nights the older man allowed him to top, so he also knows that his former student has never experienced the thrills that such a power over someone can bring. The pure ecstasy that taking care of a pretty pet can give. He can see it now, in the way the same perverted pleasure at the sight of your pain and humiliation seeps into his eyes. But Aizawa Shota is a merciful man. Despite the gleam in Hitoshi’s eyes, he knows that you need a little treat for taking your punishment so well.
"Toshi," he calls gruffly. You jolt at rough digits sliding through your folds, breath hitching and body shivering as they spread you out and expose you to the cool air. "Why don’t you kiss the pussy cat better?"
The lavender-haired man is all too happy to accommodate the request. He dives in without hesitation. But his rush to get his mouth on your cunt does nothing to betray how slowly his tongue works your oversensitive clit. It's torture. The way his wet muscle intimately picks you apart, circling your bundle of nerves with expert precision. The pressure makes you want to cry. It’s not enough. You need more. After being edged during their entire patrol, you need more than kitten licks and kisses. It’s almost as if the lilac-eyed man reads your thoughts, his callused digits tenderly prodding your slit. Your older dom pets back your hair as Hitoshi penetrates your entrance, his fingers tapping up into your anterior wall.
You're close—fuck—so close. Looking down at the tuffs of lavender as his head moves between your legs, you get lost in his movements. He's so focused, determined to pick you apart with only his languid tongue and deft digits. Despite his unhurried work, he's quick to pull out your pleasure with skilled movements. Just as you're about to let go, your eyes shoot open in panic. Are you supposed to ask for permission to cum? You look up at your older master, a pout taking over your features while you try to silently communicate with him. The raven-haired man smirks at the obviousness on your face, but he doesn't give you any indication of what he wants you to do. You whimper and whine, writhing in his lap as Hitoshi drags on his torturous methods. You paw at Shota's chest, mewling pathetically for his sympathy.
He chuckles, combing through your sweaty locks. "What's wrong, pet? Do you want something?" Your bottom lip wobbles. You nuzzle your head into his big palm, moving your faux paw-covered hands more insistently over his chest. "Oh, does kitten wanna cum?" You drop your pout for a relieved smile. Instead of nodding, you do your best impression of a purr and kitten-lick his palm as a sign of confirmation. He laughs at your cat-like interpretation and gives Hitoshi the go-ahead. He works faster, harder, bringing you close to the edge. "Okay, kitten, you can let go." And you do. You gasp, releasing silently, your mouth dropping into an 'O' shape. Your thighs shake uncontrollably around Hitoshi's head.
Shota gently brushes sweaty strands from your face as you breathe through the aftershocks. Your chest heaves, lips parted with your gulps of air. And your swollen, bitten lips look so dry, your mouth seeming so thirsty. So your loving masters decide you need something to drink up. Your dark-haired dom cradles you to his chest for a moment before laying you out across the mattress. Your fluffy paws rest over your chest adorably, mimicking a real kitten lying on her back. Hitoshi and Shota find it incredibly endearing. Though, you'd look even more adorable with your tummy full.
Shota nods his head to Hitoshi as he sits up on his knees beside your head, pulling himself out of his jumpsuit. He's been so hard since the moment he saw the golden pool beneath you. They both have. Achingly so—and they've been so patient while waiting to give you their milk.
Shinso follows his mentor's lead, scooting on his knees to hover over you. He tangles your leash around his fist, tugging lightly to capture your attention. "C'mon, kitty cat," he whispers. "Open up. Time for your cream." A small smile twitches your lips before they part, your tongue falling out, awaiting. Both of your masters work their fists over their cocks, their chests heaving with ragged breaths. It doesn't take long for salty spunk to spurt over your face, spraying into your mouth, along your cheeks, dripping off your chin, and tickling your nose. Once you swallow what was deposited into your mouth, you do your best to lick up the rest. It's such an odd sight—a weirdly adorable gesture in such a lewd context—and both of your doms breathlessly laugh at your effort. You wrinkle your nose, swatting with heavy paw gloves at what your tongue can't reach, and that's the moment they know.
You truly are the prettiest, most perfect, pussy cat that they could've ever asked for.
Hello, lovelies! What did we think about this? How are we feeling? Please let me know! I love hearing your thoughts and opinions. And if there is something you would like to like to see in this series, drop it in the comments or in my request inbox!
This one-shot is dedicated to @lunalovesthe-moon for such an amazing donation! Thank you so much! I know that we had already talked in PM, but I really wanted you to know how much your support truly means to me! I appreciate, not just your generosity, but your kindness as well! Especially while I've been going through such a tough time irl. Thank you so much again!
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Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed! Please remember to like, reblog, and comment if you liked this!
More Posts from Dekus-fellow-crybaby and Others
Eyes up
Pairings: dom!Eddie Munson x fem!reader
Drabble
Warnings: NSFW content. Smut, dom!eddie, rough!eddie, pet name (princess), multiple orgasms. 18+ only. Minors DNI!
It was too much. How many orgasms had Eddie pulled from you by now? Two or three? No, those were just from his mouth and fingers. How many had he pulled from you just from spearing you on his cock? At least two.
He’d been relentlessly pounding into you, working out all of his frustrations on your sweet, abused little cunt. You watched the flush invade his neck and chest, saw how his abdomen twitched with his movements before finally eyeing where the two of you were connected. A particularly hard thrust sent your eyelids squeezing close, head thrown back and spine arching into him. Not a second later a ring clad hand harshly gripped your jaw, forcing you to look into a pair of big, brown eyes.
“Don’t you fuckin’ dare look away,” he gritted, punctuating each syllable with a snap of his hips, his pubic bone grinding against your swollen clit. “Eyes up, princess, we’re nowhere near finished.”
Amazing 🥰
it’s golden, like daylight
dilf!neighbour!steve x babysitter!neighbour!reader
summary: when moving to hawkins the last thing you expected to find was any sort of love. especially not from the single dad who lived with his daughter two doors down. after offering to babysit for steve when he’s in a bind, it becomes a regular thing. through weeks of stolen glances and secret whispers, your feelings for each other bloom into something more. with both of you unsure of how the other feels and wondering if any of this is right, things are bound to get tangled up. after a particularly confusing night, you and steve find yourselves with no where to look but at each other.
word count: 17.4k
warnings: 18+ content,singledad!steve and his daughter whose name is daisy, age gap (reader is in her early twenties and steve is in his early to mid thirties), lots of back and forth pining and flirting, so much miscommunication, minor angst that gets resolved, mentions of blood (reader cuts her hand on broken glass, nothing serious), steve patching up the reader ( but it is not described graphically), steve being the sweetest, smut, dirty talk, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, size kink, reader struggling to take steve, reader getting teary eyed during sex, happy ending
authors note: hello again! i know some of you are wondering where the third chapter of invisible string is, and i promise it’s coming, but this is what i’ve been working on the past three weeks. this is the longest fic i’ve ever written and so i’m feeling very proud of it and of myself. this idea is one i’ve had for months but finally got inspired enough to finish. i want to announce here that because the love i feel for this fic is so strong, i am making this an au! here on my blog! that means you can request fics or send asks about this story as well as i will be writing more for it in the future! i hope you all love it even half as much as i do! i need to give some attention to some amazing people as i post this. a big thank you to @mysticmunson for creating the header for this and for listening to me talk through every idea i had. another big thank you to @bejeweledmunson @petal-veined and @moonmistt for putting up with this being all i’ve spoken about for week! i love you all so so much. also… @loveshotzz here she is, the glorious dilf fic i promised and i’m so sorry it’s probably a lot softer than you were thinking!
The quaint town of Hawkins was nowhere near as bad as you had prepared yourself for it to be. Moving into small towns like this could be difficult, considering everyone knew each other and most inhabitants had lived there for their entire lives.
Living in the city you were used to most people being relatively rude to strangers, everyone always having somewhere to be with no interest in small talk of any kind. You were pleased to see that the few people you had met were nothing short of kind and made you feel right at home.
The weather of the town was much nicer than you were used to. The sun beamed down brightly, the sky a bright blue with fluffy clouds scattered throughout it. This fact had you forgetting about your unpacked boxes on your first day there. Instead you rushed to the nearest florist, buying different already bloomed flowers to plant in the front, making the rental home feel more like your own.
You had only been living there for a week, your boxes all finally unpacked and you were comfortably settled. The neighbourhood you lived in was cozy, green grass on each lawn, mailboxes all looking freshly painted, and sidewalk chalk covering every other driveway.
You were seated in your front window, enjoying your morning coffee as you flipped through a few pages of a book. Your mind was wandering to what you needed to get done, jotting down a few things as you spotted something out of your window. You looked once more after the first time, realising that it wasn’t something you were seeing, rather someone, a small someone.
There was a small girl in your garden, looking around it as she carefully walked beside it. She couldn't have been older than seven, her steps still wobbly despite the attentiveness to each step she took.
She had dark brown hair that was in one french braid along the back of her head, a few small clips holding any loose pieces of hair back. A pair of denim overalls sat on top of a light pink t-shirt, her little white shoes covered in dirt all over.
You were unsure of what to do. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, but truthfully you didn’t want her destroying the garden that you had just planted days ago. You got up off the windowsill, making your way out your front door quietly, not wanting to startle the tiny girl.
“Hi there.” You said sweetly as you walked down your front steps, watching as she slowly walked over to where you were.
“Hi!” She lifted a hand close to her body, waving it shyly. Her voice was slightly frightened, but she was putting on her bravest face. You didn’t look all that intimidating, a fact that you were hoping would play to your favour in this situation.
“I like your overalls.” You pointed to them, kneeling down next to her. “They’re very snazzy.”
She giggled at your words, freckled nose scrunching up as she smiled. Her cheeks were a little red from the sun and what you assume playing outside in the heat.
“I like your flowers.” She replied, looking back at them before turning to you again. “They’re very snaz-snazzy!”
You laughed at her attempt to use the word you just did, making her laugh a little harder this time. You wondered if it was normal for kids here to approach strangers the way she did, if the parents of Hawkins just trusted that no one here was a bad person.
She held out her hand, a pile of beaded bracelets on her wrist. You took her hand in yours, her whole hand nearly fitting into your palm.
“I’m Daisy.” She hummed, aggressively shaking your hand. “I live down there.” She pointed down your street at a big white and blue house.
“Like the flower!” You gasped excitedly. “I’m Y/n, it’s a pleasure to meet you Daisy.” As she let go of your hand she began to play with her fingers, her mind searching for the correct words to say.
“I was wondering…” She trailed off, looking everywhere but your face. “If-If I could have a few of your flowers…but they aren’t for me!” She exclaimed as if it would make her question sound more believable.
“Who would they be for, sweet Daisy?" You inquired, lifting one of your knees from the ground, the hard pavement beginning to make it hurt.
“For my dad!” She said happily. “It’s Father’s Day a-and I forgot to get him a present.” She winced, squinting as you copied her facial expression. “He never forgets my presents, and I feel not good.”
Your heart was aching so hard your teeth were hurting. You were positive you had never met a kid this cute, nevermind this thoughtful. There was no way you could tell her no and send her away, knowing that it would weigh on your chest for the rest of your life.
“I’ll tell you what.” You whispered, standing up fully but still bending so she could hear you. “I’ll help you put something together for your dad if you let me have one of those pretty bracelets.”
It was not a fair trade in the slightest, but you weren't about to tell her that, not when she squealed with excitement, jumping up and down on your grass.
“Thank you! Thank you!” She sang, grabbing your hand and dragging you to your garden.
You let her pick whichever flowers her little heart desired, not surprised when she chose a few daisies as her final touches. You grabbed some newspaper and ribbon you had inside, putting the arrangement in the middle of it and tying it up to look somewhat presentable.
“Do you know how to write?” You asked her, taking a pen and a small piece of construction paper.
“Not very well.” She grumbled, making you let out a breathy laugh. “My dad lets me write while he helps!” You take her word for it, placing the paper on the wood of one of your stairs, leading her hand along the paper with yours as you write.
“To dad.” She mumbles to you, telling you what she wanted the note to say. “I love you, from Daisy.” You see her nodding her head, content with her word choice.
You finish the poor attempt at a note up, it being painfully obvious that she helped you write it, the words being barely legible. You were sure her dad wouldn’t care, you weren’t even positive he would care as much as she thought he would, a thought that made you worry this might have been a bad idea.
As you finished putting it together, you watched her reach behind her neck, unclipping the beaded necklace and showing it to you. It was pink and white, with a flower charm sitting in the middle of it, a daisy.
“Do you like that one?” Her eyes were hopeful. “It’s pink like your dress but you can pick a bracelet instead! No mean feelings! It matches so I thought it would be a better choice for you!”
You assumed she meant ‘no hard feelings,’ which made you bite back a laugh. She was great at speaking for someone her age, but still struggled to pick the right words.
It had a childproof clip on it, the odd one that you sort of just push together which really did make it easy for you to put on. It sat right between your collarbones, the size of it not quite being big enough for an adult, not that you minded.
“This one is even more perfect than a bracelet, thank you, Daisy.” You tell her, handing her the bouquet. “Think it would be okay if I walked you home?”
You thought it might be a good idea to take her home. You didn’t want her dad to think she was with a freaky stranger, but rather a neighbour, who was also a stranger, but one with no harmful intentions.
“That sounds very okay to me!” She smiled at you, nodding her head as she reached for your hand. “I think my dads gonna love this with all his heart.”
“I sure hope he does.” You followed behind her, eyes widening as she began to run.
“Dad!” You heard her yell as she disappeared onto the property.
The house was only two down from yours, their driveway being one of the many with chalk all over it. As you stepped onto the driveway you saw a man kneeled in front of her, his back turned to you.
“They're beautiful, sweetie.” You could faintly hear his voice over the sound of someone mowing their lawn. You watched her explain something, hands flying all over the place. “Yes, I love them so much, best Father’s day ever.”
You walked up the driveway a bit further, still keeping a healthy distance.
He engulfed her in a hug, holding the flowers behind her so that they wouldn’t get squished. When they separated he whispered something to her, the question making her look over his shoulder, pointing to you happily.
His head turned to look at you, staring for a moment before he handed the flowers back to her, muttering something. She ran off into their backyard with the flowers, giving him a moment to stand to his full height.
You had no idea what you were expecting Daisy’s dad to look like. Maybe someone much, much older than you, someone who wasn’t very attractive and who was possibly going to curse you out for talking to his child without him present.
You were dead wrong.
He wore a faded grey t-shirt, the words on it so worn out that you couldn't read them. His blue jeans had grass stains on them, only getting dirtier as he rubbed some dirt on the thighs of them as he approached you. He looked like he had been doing yard work of some sort, throwing the gloves he was wearing by the stairs that led to his side door.
His hair was a pretty shade of brown, dark in most places but lighter in areas where the sun was kissing it. It was clearly long, but styled in a way that made it lay perfectly on the top of his head. The gold rimmed glasses that sat on his nose suited him well, complimenting the colour of his skin in a way that was extremely flattering.
There was no way around admitting that the nameless man in front of you was the most handsome person you had laid eyes on in a very long time.
The two of you stared at each other for longer than normal, not a word being exchanged as he stood in front of you. Each time you went to speak your words escaped you, only being able to smile brightly at him.
It wasn’t everyday Steve found himself staring at anyone as breathtaking as you, nevermind having someone that enthralling standing on his driveway.
The powdery pink dress you wore hugged you in all the right places, going all the way down to your ankles. The straps on the top of it were barely there, leaving the top part of your chest exposed.
Everything from the bridge of your nose to the ends of your hair was radiant, leaving him speechless. He didn’t know if it was the sun's fault your skin looked so glowy or if you always carried such beauty with you.
He wasn’t ignorant to the fact that you were seemingly younger than him, hoping that his staring wasn’t coming off in a way that would make you feel uncomfortable.
You weren’t ignorant to the fact either. The only firm indication you had that he was somewhat older than you was the scruff that adorned his chin and the beginnings of wrinkles that formed when he smiled.
“I’m so sorry about her.” His voice was as thick and smooth as honey, the sound sweet to your ears. “We were outside together and she wandered off… and I didn’t even realise until a moment ago, and now you probably think I’m a horrible parent.”
His lips curved into a smile, freckled cheeks pressing into his eyes.
“No! No…not at all.” You shook your head. “She didn’t stray too far anyway, I live a few houses down.” You pointed with your thumb before holding your clammy hands in front of your body.
Your voice only made you prettier, a powdery pink haze filling his mind.
It really was the best Father’s day ever.
“She didn’t cause too much trouble did she?” His voice was slightly panicked, his fingers combing through his hair.
“There was no trouble, she’s honestly the sweetest kid I’ve ever met.” You beamed. “I found her in my front garden, she thought my flowers would make a good gift for you.”
Peeking behind his shoulder you checked to see if Daisy had come back. There was no sign of her as you looked back at the tall man in front of you.
“She felt terrible she didn’t have a present for you, so there was no way I could say no to her.”
He shook his head, a smile forming on his lips. As much as he didn’t love the thought of Daisy hanging around strangers, he was happy that she was at least sweet about it.
“That… uh, that was very kind of you. Thank you for being so sweet to her.” He spoke, placing a hand in his back pocket. “Is there any way I can repay you?”
You held your hands up, disagreeing immediately as you reached to grab a hold of the beaded necklace.
“She already took care of it.” You could tell by his expression he was slapping himself internally. “Think I might’ve ripped her off though.”
Steve couldn't remember the last time someone made him genuinely smile this much. He felt a bit stupid considering the fact he had been smiling from the moment he laid eyes on you, but he could and would blame that on you and the fact that you were wearing the necklace his daughter loved most.
“I’m happy to hear that.” He shrugged. “I was worried her cuteness might’ve looped you in. Happens to me more than I’m willing to admit.”
“Almost.” You tilted your head. “Her sob story nearly got me, but I toughed it out.”
He took his hand from his back pocket, once again wiping it on his jeans before holding it out to you. As you took his hand it was apparent his hand was much larger than yours, his hand feeling much firmer than your own.
“I’m Steve.” He told you, shaking your hand gently.
“Y/n.” You replied, letting his hand go after a moment.
“Y/n.” He repeated your name. “Pleasure to meet you, thank you again for taking care of her.”
As the words left his mouth he realised that was exactly what you did. You took care of her and looked after her, even making sure to walk her the short distance home. His chest was consumed with an unfamiliar feeling, like something was twisting and pulling at his heart.
“It was nice to meet you too, Steve.” You backed away slowly. “I’ll see you around I’m sure.”
“Yeah.. yeah I hope so.” He commented. “Welcome to Hawkins.”
You walked away wearing a saccharine smile, trying to not let him catch sight of your face as you turned off his driveway.
Steve knew for a fact you weren’t just new to the neighbourhood, he would have definitely remembered your face if he had ever seen you in town.
Turns out, you’d be running into Steve more often than you thought.
The first few times were when you both were crossing paths. He was leaving as you got home, or you were both heading out at the same time.
This cycle of small talk and running into each other continued for a few weeks, neither of you daring to push the conversations much further.
That was until one early morning around 5am. You were sitting on your front steps, a blanket wrapped around your body, a steaming cup of coffee keeping your hands warm. You were tossing and turning all night, finally giving up and deciding to start your day early.
The sky was halfway painted with a pastel orange colour, the clouds and run rising with it. The air outside carried that crisp freshness that only the morning could bring. The grass had been tricked with dew overnight, the droplets of water beginning to clear up.
The silence was enjoyable, the sounds of birds chirping made you feel less alone, their presence being welcomed by you. You didn’t expect anyone to be awake this early, mainly because you would never willingly wake up this early.
Your silence was interrupted by the sounds of feet hitting against the ground. Your eyes searched for the source of the sound, not finding it right away. Turning your head a little further to the left, you were met with the sight of Steve.
His face was flushed, a light shade of crimson sitting on top of his cheeks. He was wearing nothing but a pair of running shorts, his grey shirt hanging from his arm. Your eyes dragged down to the patch of thick hair that rested on his chest, the view of it making you pull on the skin at the back of your neck.
Everything he did, every move he made, every piece of him you got to know more was only making him more attractive. You couldn’t fathom how you happened to move in two houses down from a man who invented the concept of dads being hot.
You considered running into the house before he saw you, painfully aware of how you looked this early in the morning. Your hair was a bit of a mess, eyes dressed with bags, and you knew for a fact your face was still swollen with sleep.
There was no time left to put that plan in action as he looked over at you, pushing the headphones off his head.
“You really shouldn’t be out here all alone at this time.” His husky voice spoke as he stopped at the bottom of your stairs.
“I could say the same about you.” You replied, clearing your throat to try and make your voice sound better.
It was then, from the close proximity you noticed the deep spots under his eyes. He had the look of someone who was stressed out beyond belief, a certain rigidity to his whole body.
“I’m clearing my head.” He yawned, leaning onto the wood. “What’s your excuse?”
“Couldn’t sleep.” You told him honestly, catching his yawn after you spoke the last word. “Is something going on?”
It might have been weird to ask him that, but you hoped he wouldn’t be taken aback by the question.
“Ah.” He let out a deep sigh, licking his lips. “I’m gonna have to call off work for the second time this week, which you can imagine I’m not thrilled about.”
Steve had mentioned in passing he was a paramedic. The job normally would have come with unforgiving hours, being called in at any time of the day or night. However, in a town this small, that wasn’t the case. He explained that he rarely got called in, telling you how happy he was to have a job he loved so much with hours that worked well for him.
“Are you not feeling well?” You sounded concerned, raising your brows with worry.
“No no, I’m okay.” He reassured you. “Daisy really hated daycare when we tried it. So usually I get one of her aunts or uncles to take her or come over and watch her, but…” Running a hand over his face he continued. “Everyone’s been so busy lately which puts me in a bit of a bind.”
“Your wife works when you do?” Your question was genuine for the most part, an ulterior motive may have been present. Steve’s eyes widened before he smiled slowly.
“It’s just Daisy and I.” He spoke. “Her mom’s not in the picture anymore.”
“I’m sorry.” You shook your head, feeling embarrassed but relieved at the same time. “I had no idea.”
“That’s okay.” He chuckled, kicking your stair with the tip of his shoe softly. “I’m sorry for dropping this all on you, I’m sure it’s the last thing you wanna hear this early.”
The idea swirled around your head before it left your mouth.
“I could help…if-if you wanted, that is.” Your suggestion did make his ears perk up, mouth falling slightly open. “I’m always home anyway, don’t really have a lot going on.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that, Y/n.” There was a tenderness to his voice, one you had never had the pleasure of hearing before.
“You didn’t ask me.” You quipped. “I offered, Steve.”
You could tell he liked the idea, he was just contemplating whether to admit it or not. It would make his life a lot easier, and you had proven that he could trust you with his child.
“Are you gonna let me pay you?” He asked. “Because if you try and do it for free I might just lose what’s left of my mind completely.”
Babysitting Daisy was a breeze.
She seemed to like you a lot which made the time you spent with her a lot easier. The two of you got up to everything from playing outside to sitting on her bedroom floor while she showed you her books for what felt like the tenth time.
At first, Steve only called you when he exhausted all other options, not wanting to burden you constantly.
That quickly turned into you watching her each time he worked.
Daisy had expressed to him how much she enjoyed being around you one night when Eddie showed up to watch her instead of you.
Eddie was incredibly offended by his niece's words, not understanding why her and Steve both seemed more keen about you coming over. That was until he had the pleasure of meeting you as he came to pick Daisy up from your house one evening.
You opened the door a few seconds after someone had knocked on it. On the other side of the door was a man who looked extremely rough around the edges, his face and clothes covered in oil.
“Eddie, right?” You asked him, voice a little hesitant. You wanted to make sure you weren’t handing Steve’s daughter to a complete stranger and by the looks of the man in front of you, you weren’t entirely sure this was the right guy.
“I must have the wrong house.” He froze. You were way too pretty to be Steve’s babysitter, at least much prettier than he was anticipating. Even if you were actually the babysitter, he had no idea how Steve managed to get out more than one word to you. “You’re Y/n?”
“In the flesh.” You tried to hide your confusion at his reaction. Daisy came to save the day, running into Eddie’s legs hard enough for him to let out a groan.
“Uncle Eddie!” She screamed, hugging one of his legs. “Are you here to get me?”
Her little mind was going a mile a minute, not even saying goodbye to you as she walked down the front stairs. She was young so you understood how her mind sometimes flew from one place to the other with no regard.
“Thanks.” He nodded in your direction. The longer he thought about it, the more he understood why Steve was such a fan of you. Eddie imagined if he had such a pretty babysitter he’d want her around all the time too.
As you closed the door you could hear the pair bickering. Eddie let out a laugh, telling Daisy to stop pretending like she was happy to see him.
You hoped not all of Steve’s friends were as strange as Eddie.
Slowly, you began watching Daisy at Steve’s house more often. It was easier for you to be there so she didn’t have to bring a bag and all her toys with her.
You had begun to pick up on housework while you were there. Doing the dishes, keeping everything tidy, and making dinner every night you were there, leaving more than enough in the fridge for Steve when he retired home. You usually only washed Daisy’s laundry, but on occasion you found yourself washing the dirty laundry that he was too busy to get around to.
He was paying you way too much for you to just sit around and watch her anyway, so you insisted this was how you made things even.
Steve would make a fuss about it sometimes, but he would be lying if he said he had a problem with it. It was nice to not have to worry about certain things after long days or nights at work.
He liked having you around, probably more than he should have.
There was a tension growing between you and Steve, one that could only be ignored for so long. It was the kind of tension that was created when two people were obviously and painfully attracted to one another.
It started with Steve having to watch you move around his kitchen, knowing where everything was placed, knowing exactly how he liked it. It progressed with the pride you felt each time he commented on how well you did something, your body burning with a sensation that only Steve could bring to you.
Many stolen moments shared between the two of you continued to make the tension thicker.
The short dresses you wore around him made it hard for him to breathe, his eyes not being able to leave your figure no matter how hard he tried. When you bent over to grab something the dress would rise up the backs of your thighs, exposing your body to him more than he thought he deserved.
Reluctantly, he’d drag his gaze away before you turned back around, focusing on calming himself down and getting rid of the twitch in his cock. Part of him hoped you did it on purpose, that these moments weren’t a series of accidents that he happened to bear witness to.
Steve didn’t make it easy for you either.
He would always place a hand on your hip as he squeezed behind you, his front brushing against your ass as he moved. His hot whisper of ‘sorry, honey.’ played through your mind for hours each time he said it.
You never missed the way he stared at you when you arrived at his house. His eyes examining you for a moment too long, making their way back up to yours where he would smile at you softly.
You weren’t much better, the sight of him in his clothes for work had you in a tight grip, making it impossible to look anywhere but at his arms in that shirt that was a size too small.
These moments were why you were shocked and hurt in a strange way when Steve called you one afternoon, asking you if you could come watch Daisy.
“I thought tonight was your night off?” You frowned a bit, hating that he kept getting called into work last minute.
“It is.” He felt a lump in his throat, the hand that wasn’t holding the receiver was on his hip. “I uh…I have a date tonight.”
You never thought that four short words could leave you feeling so many things at one time. There was a pain biting at your heart, its teeth sinking into your skin hard enough to make your entire chest throb.
The root of the pain was unidentifiable. There was jealousy and betrayal present, playing their roles together to leave you feeling like a fool for thinking that a man like Steve would ever want anything to do with you.
You were his babysitter, nothing more.
“Oh.” You sounded surprised. Steve could picture the ways your lips were curling in, a hand coming up to smooth your shirt down to cover up the fact that something was bothering you.
Steve was only doing this as a poor attempt to resolve whatever feelings he was having for you. He thought there was a chance seeing someone else could work out and he would maybe be able to stop thinking about waking up next to you on slow mornings and kissing you each time he walked through his front door.
Through this all, he found himself refraining from thinking about how things could have been between the two of you if this one small detail had been different. He knew there was no good in dwelling in what could have been, but he wondered if these thoughts ever crossed your mind.
“Yeah, yeah I can come watch her.” You cleared your throat. “What time did you want me over?”
He had never heard you like this. Choked up. Like there was something wrapping around your vocal chords, not allowing you to say what you really wanted to.
“How’s seven?” He asked, the thought of cancelling the date bouncing around his head.
“Whatever you need.” You tried to sound happier, but you failed miserably. Your remark came off caustic, leaving Steve with a sour taste in his mouth the rest of the day.
You wanted to cancel on him last minute, ruining any prospects of his date going well. However, you didn’t have it in you to do something cruel to Steve when he was the last person in the world who deserved it.
So, you went to watch Daisy at seven.
Steve told you he would be home by ten and he didn’t lie. Right at ten he unlocked the door, seeing you sitting on his couch watching some random movie.
He was relieved to see you, a faint feeling of happiness lingering within him as he stepped into his house. His date was nothing short of horrible and he had spent the majority of the time counting down the minutes until he could return home again.
“Hey.” He whispered. “Is she asleep?”
“Of course.” You hummed, standing up and gathering your things. You didn’t want to have to be around him for longer than you needed to. Pushing your feelings down was only going to work for so long, and looking Steve in the eye would have been what made them come right back up.
“Thank you, I know it was short notice.” He walked closer to you, sensing this new kind of tension, one that he wasn’t so fond of. Steve grabbed his wallet, reaching for what he owed you plus a little bit extra.
“It’s not a big deal.” You smiled softly, grabbing the money from him and putting your shoes on. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
And with that you left. There was no goodbye, no asking him about his time out, and for the first time since he met you he didn’t get to hear your laugh as he made some stupid joke.
With that, he couldn’t help but notice the dishes weren't done and Daisy’s toys still scattered around the floor, left for him to clean up. It wasn’t like you had to do those things, but you always did. The fact that you didn’t do them should have had Steve running out the door after you, begging you to tell him what was wrong.
But he didn’t. He stood there alone in his living room, frozen in place.
For the first time in months, Steve’s warm and lively home went back to feeling like a cold and lonely house.
Steve going on dates became a regular thing. At least once a week he was taking out some woman who he barely had any interest in, hoping he might like her more than the last. He felt like he was fresh out of highschool again, looking for someone to mend the hole in his heart that Nancy Wheeler had left behind.
Only this time, he wasn’t trying to fill the hole someone else put there, he was trying to heal the wound in his heart that came from the knife he twisted. The job to fix it this time wasn’t easy, not when the women he was seeing were all dull and boring, not being able to make him feel a fraction of the way you did. Steve felt old again, like the single dad that couldn’t land more than a shitty one night stand.
Part of you felt bad that all of his dates were going terribly.
He never went into the details much with you but you could tell by the way he looked that he was happy to return home after each one. He looked more drained than he did before he left, a deep sigh leaving his lips as he hung his jacket up.
Steve was always home before 10pm, walking in either a few minutes before or right as the clock struck the hour, he was never a minute late. You were caught between thinking he did that to leave the dates earlier and to keep his word true, not wanting to make you feel like your time was something he would throw away.
Slowly, you grew to tolerate him going on dates. Swallowing down the poison that threatened to spill out of your mouth and stopping the tears that sometimes burned the back of your eyes.
You both noticed that everything shifted back to how it was before that first date. From the extra work you did for him to the stolen intimate moments the two of you shared like a secret, whispering in the late hours of the night under the covers of a bed.
That was until one gloomy Friday night. You made the short walk to Steve’s house, pulling the baby blue cardigan you wore over your body further, the wind being extremely unforgiving. The white dress you wore was bright looking compared to the dark conditions outside. The clouds were a mean shade of grey, preparing to let out their anger in the form of cold droplets and cracks of thunder.
You rarely knocked on the door anymore, letting yourself in with a faint greeting to anyone who may have been close by. As you walked onto the carpet at his front door you weren’t met with the usual sounds of Steve and Daisy singing, or the television being a little too loud as she sat in front of it, barely watching it as she played with her bead kit.
Daisy was sobbing her little eyes out, whole body shaking in Steve’s arms. You were immediately panicked, heart dropping to the floor as you tried to understand what was happening. She didn’t cry often at all, in fact this was only the second time you had ever seen it happen.
“Sweetie.” Steve sighed defeatedly, his white button up covered in her tears. “The sky is only a little dark, I’m sure it’s only gonna be a little rain, I promise.”
“Don’t go.” Her voice wobbled with fear, small hands clinging to the collar of his shirt. “Daddy I-I don’t want you to go.”
You knew that might have just done him in completely. Daisy had that man wrapped around her tiny little finger, knowing exactly what she needed to say to get Steve to give in. She never did it in a bad way, only ever using her power to guilt trip him when absolutely necessary.
Steve lifted her up, rubbing her back in soft circles as he turned around to see you. He gave you a sad look, mouthing ‘I’m sorry’. You only shook your head, coming closer to him and craning your neck to look at her tearful face.
“Sweet Daisy.” You frowned, wiping one of her tears. “What’s going on?”
“T-there’s gonna be a storm.” She breathed. “I don’t like thunder…I need Dad to stay and protect me.” You nod your head, thinking for a second.
“I see.” You hummed. “That’s a real shame…because I had a really important secret to tell you once he left…” You sighed dramatically. “But I guess if I can’t protect you from the thunder…”
“No!” She gasped, leaning off of Steve’s chest. “You promise you’ll save me from the thunder?” Her eyes were wide with excitement, the idea of getting to know a secret taking over whatever bad thoughts she was having.
“I promise!” You held your hands up, “Wouldn’t let anything hurt you.” She squirmed in Steve’s arms, shouting something about changing into her pyjamas so she could be comfortable while you told her the secret.
He let out a painful noise as she ran up the stairs to her room.
“I should stay here.” He shook his head. “If it actually starts to storm I’m going to feel like the worst.”
“Steve.” You smiled sadly. “You’re far from the worst and she’s really lucky.” You whispered, noticing how handsome he looked right now. His hair was pushed back, one single strand of hair not getting enough gel, hanging in front of his face. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, releasing his pink lips from the tight line they were in.
“I’ve got her if anything happens okay?” You hum. “She’s gonna be just fine with me here.”
Steve was looking at you with nothing but adoration. His friends who he considered family all loved Daisy and cared for her greatly. But he was yet to find someone outside that circle, someone whom he wanted in a different way who cared for his daughter as much as you did.
The way he was looking at you was making the lock that kept your feelings away come undone, letting them trickle out of their hiding place slowly.
“Okay.” His voice was soft. “I trust you.”
“Good.” You bit back a smile. “Because your collar looks absolutely horrendous.” Without thinking you reached up for it, smoothing the stiff fabric down.
“Are you nervous?” You were trying to calm him down from what just happened, really not caring to know much about how he was feeling about a date that was with someone who wasn’t you.
“Not really.” He watched as you fixed his shirt for him, your eyes focused on what you were doing. He noticed the way your nose twitched when you were focused, scrunching up when you were really trying to get something right. “I haven’t seen her since highschool, so it should be interesting.”
You tried to avoid thinking about the fact that this person might not have been a total stranger to Steve, making the chances of this being a good date slightly more probable.
Reaching behind his neck you smoothed the fold of his collar down. He didn’t know what to do with his hands as you worked at making him look presentable. Did he hold them in front of his body? Did he put them behind his back? Did he rest them on your hips like he so badly desired to?
“Oh my, since highschool?” You breathed. “That was what? Forty years ago?”
Your eyes flicked away from his shirt to look at him. He was still looking at you, nodding his head as he chuckled.
“Forty years!” He laughed, making you let out the giggle you had been holding in. “I see how it is!”
You lost track of what you were supposed to be doing, your hands resting flat on his shoulders as you both shared a playful string of banter through fits of laughter. Steve had more fun in those three minutes than he had on the hours he had spent out on dates combined.
Your touch, your smile, your laugh, they filled his body with so much joy that for a second he forgot that you weren’t the woman he’d be seeing tonight.
Once the sounds of laughter died down you removed your hands from his body, backing away a bit as you gestured to his shirt.
“You’re all ready to go.” You told him, looking towards the stairs as you heard Daisy trampling down them as fast as she could. “And I think she’s ready for you to leave.”
Your suspicions were proved correct when Daisy began basically shoving Steve out the door, saying goodbye to him as fast as she could. His exit was a rushed mess of him trying to bargain with her for a hug, but not being surprised when she barely gave in.
Next came the part of the routine that never changed.
“I’ll be back before ten!” He shouted as he closed the door.
11:47pm.
You had been staring at the clock that hung in the middle of Steve’s living room for so long that you could barely read it anymore.
You checked it once, then twice, then finally you ran to the kitchen to check the clock there, not believing what you were seeing.
11:49pm.
“What the…” You whispered under your breath, a hand making its way to your head.
Steve was never late, nevermind nearly two hours late. Your mind ran rampant with terrible thoughts, anxiety serging through your veins as each new idea formed. You tried your hardest to not let yourself think that something bad had happened to him despite how badly you wanted to believe it.
Daisy had fallen asleep a half hour ago, but not after she asked you a plethora of questions about where Steve was. It felt impossible to try and calm her nerves when your own were burning at the ends, the sparks catching on each dendrite, setting everything on fire from synapse to synapse.
The worry you felt was intense, making your jaw tense, your teeth grinding together. Your nails dug into your palms, the dread trying to claw its way up your throat and take you under completely.
As you searched through the notepad that was hung on the fridge for Robin’s phone number, the phone that sat on the end table by Steve’s couch began to ring. The buzzing of the phone scared the life out of you, putting you even further on edge.
Your shaky hands grasped the receiver, bringing it to your ear.
“Hello?” You tried to sound a bit more lively than you felt, not wanting the person on the other end to know something was wrong.
“Shit, Yn.” He uttered. “I didn’t even realise the time, I’m so sorry.”
Your heart felt heavy, like a large rock that had been thrown into a body of water. You were relieved to hear his voice, to know that regardless of what happened he sounded like he was okay.
“Steve.” Your voice trembled, your fingers squeezed the coiled wire of the phone. Before you could ask a question, he was speaking again, obviously being rushed for a reason that was unknown to you.
“I called Robin, and she’s gonna come and pick up Daisy.” He spoke.
“What? Why?” Your confusion was like a thick fog, covering everything around you and making it hard to see.
“It’s late and I feel bad for not calling.” His speech sounded distracted, as if he was trying to listen to the chatter behind him as he spoke. “I don’t want you to be waiting around for me.”
You didn’t know what to say, so you said nothing, waiting for his voice to fill the silence again.
“Steve! Let’s go!” You heard the voice of a woman from his end, all high-pitched and filled with giggles.
You felt sick to your stomach.
You thought that something bad had happened to him. You were genuinely worried that the reason he wasn’t home and hadn’t called was because some unfortunate event took place. Not once did you consider the notion that Steve might have just been having fun and for once enjoying himself on a date.
You felt so stupid for believing any of the lies you were feeding yourself. You got worked up over nothing, your worry turning into a burning feeling of betrayal.
“I’ve gotta go, okay?” His voice was a little louder now. “I’ll come by tomorrow to pay you.”
The line went dead.
Steve was never this short with you, nevermind not doing as little as saying goodbye to you.
It hit you slowly, putting together the pieces that told you exactly why Robin was picking up Daisy and why Steve insisted you head home.
He probably wasn’t going to be returning home alone.
The house felt dark, the ghosts standing in the room with you were the only things keeping you company. Everything was too quiet in contrast to the beating of your heart, throbbing against your chest like it never had.
Robin showed up not long after, helping you peel Daisy from her bed. Luckily her sleep was enough to stop her from asking too many questions, her little eyes barely being able to stay open as Robin carried her downstairs.
You had met Robin on a few different occasions, and given the way she was looking at you, she knew something you didn’t.
Truly, she was sick of listening to Steve talk about you and do nothing about it. So, to see you in his house looking like a sad puppy made her want to kick him right in the ribs.
After she had left you felt even lonelier than before, the absence of Daisy allowing you to experience your emotions even heavier. You decided to quickly clean up before you left, thinking that this might be the last time you babysit for Steve for quite some time.
This tug of war with your heart was getting hard again, slowly becoming unbearable. For the first time in the months you knew him, the flirting and moments you shared didn’t seem intimate at all, they seemed like a really good way for him to string you along and win himself more favours.
You refused to cry about something like this, not here, not in the four walls of his house.
The sound of the water running as you washed dishes almost covered up the sound of the front door opening. Your ears perked up, listening to hear if he was alone or not, getting ready to awkwardly excuse yourself. You didn’t expect him to be home within an hour, not by the way he was talking over the phone.
You didn’t hear any voices, no noises that would have signified someone was with him. There was only the sounds of him kicking his shoes off, feet padding to where you were. You kept your back turned to him, focusing on finishing up with the four items you had left to wash.
“Honey…” His voice was thick with regret. He didn’t think you would have bothered to stay a moment longer than you needed to.
But of course you did.
You didn’t respond, not even acknowledging his existence. Your silence was deafening as well, causing a ringing in his ears the longer he listened to the sounds of water hitting the bottom of the sink.
“Y/n.” His voice grew closer, his feet taking a soft step in your direction.
You placed a plate in the dish rack, reaching and grabbing a dirty glass.
Steve felt a lump growing in his throat, a lump made up of worry and fear, similar to the one that lived in your throat as you waited for him to come home. He would understand if you were mad at him for not calling, maybe you had plans after being here tonight and he ruined them, or maybe you just wanted to go home and-
“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” You seethed, wiping the outside of the glass, not turning to look at Steve.
His face grew softer, the wrinkles on his forehead smoothing out.
“You’re never late and that would have been fine if you just called sooner.” He could see how tense you were, shoulders moving ridgeley with every syllable.
Oh.
“I thought something happened.” Your voice cracked. “I thought you got into an accident or got hurt.” The cloth slid into the glass, your hand cleaning the inside of it. “Do you know how fucking scary that was?”
Oh.
You weren’t mad at him, not in the way that he was anticipating. You were worried about him, the kind of worry that made you anxious and restless. He had to fight every urge to come and grab your face, to kiss you so softly that you forgot why you were worrying, being blissfully reminded that he was standing right in front of you.
“God, Steve.” Your eyes close, head tilting back slightly. “I was so relieved to hear your voice for a second.” You looked at him, hurt etched into your usually glowing irises. “But then you made me feel like an idiot for worrying in the first place.”
“Hey now.” He stepped toward you, reaching a hand out to hold your shoulder.
“Don’t!” You barked, going to step away from him. Encapsulated in your sadness, you forgot about the glass around your hand, slamming it against the sink.
The glass shattered, the debris flying all around the sink. The sound of it was loud, louder than the frustration that was booming in your head, pulling you back down to earth. A gasp fell from your lips as you felt something tearing at the skin of your palm.
You pulled your hand back from the sink, your other grabbing your wrist and holding it tightly.
“Jesus, Y/n!” Steve bellowed, grabbing the kitchen towel from by the stove. He reached for your hand again, unhappy to see you pull away from him.
“It was an accident!” You trembled, the blood dripping from your hand onto the wood floor beneath your feet. You hated how upset he sounded, your face burning with embarrassment over what you just did.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was soft spoken, his warm hand finding safety on your forearm. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice, but you’re hurt and you need to let me help you.”
His hazel eyes searched yours for forgiveness, not only for yelling, but for everything that had gone wrong tonight.
“Okay.” You put your guard back down, letting him in again. He took your injured hand and wrapped the towel around it, placing your other hand back on top to hold it there.
Steve guided you upstairs and into the bathroom, rinsing your hand off as gently as he possibly could. He stood behind you, his chest pressed against your back as he made you keep your hand under the water.
The close proximity made it hard to breathe. The smell of his cologne filled your nose, notes of cedarwood and bergamot dancing around you. The scent was one that over time you began to associate with him, goosebumps growing along your skin with each whiff of it you got.
What nearly pushed you over the edge was the way he was whispering words of encouragement to you as he poured alcohol onto your wound.
“Just a little longer, okay? You’re being real strong.” “Breath for me, you’re okay.” “I’ve got you, honey, I’m right here.”
The winces you were letting out weren’t all from the pain of your cut, but rather the sting that each thing he said was leaving behind.
Once he got the bleeding to stop enough, he took you into his bedroom. You had been in his room only a handful of times, coming in to grab his laundry without taking time to really look around.
It was exactly what you expected his room to look like. The walls were all a plain cream colour, nothing on them. The floors were carpeted unlike the hallway, the brown material feeling nice on your feet. All of the furniture in the room was wooden from his bed frame to the thick walnut desk in the corner. The desk and the shelf next to it were covered in framed pictures. Most of them were of him and Daisy but the other few were of his friends whom he considered family.
“Sit up here.” He tapped the desk lighty. You manoeuvred your way onto it the best you could without putting much force onto your palm. Steve opened a few different drawers, grabbing the various supplies he needed to help you.
“My job comes in handy a lot more than you’d think.” He set everything down next to you, turning the lamp on the desk on. A yellow glow illuminated his face, extenuating his features in a way that made him somehow look better than he did before.
“I can imagine.” Your voice was softer than before. You felt yourself retreating, opening the curtains again for him. He slipped himself between your legs, fixing the end of your dress so it was covering your knees.
Steve was doing everything he could to make you feel comfortable, like he always did. You were hurt by his actions, but felt like a child for how you handled the situation. A swift feeling of regret filled you, making your gaze shift to his face.
“Gonna bring your hand up, yeah?” He waited for some sign of you agreeing before lifting your hand closer to his face. “I can see a few pieces of glass in there, so I’m gonna take them out and then we can wrap it up for you.”
“Okay.” You were trying to keep calm as he grabbed a pair of tweezers. His eyelashes fluttered as he plucked out a small shard of glass, dropping it into the small bowl of water he placed beside you.
Steve looked so focused, barely breathing each time he brought the tweezers to your hand. The feeling was bearable at first, but the stinging quickly became a lot to handle. You let out a sharp squeak as he had to push the tweezers a bit deeper.
“I’m sorry.” He glanced up at you, staring at you as he let you settle from the pain. “You should try and distract yourself, it’ll hurt a lot less.”
“How should I go about doing that?” You asked.
“Talk to me.” He offered plainly, raising his eyebrows for a second.
You knew he wanted to discuss the events of the night, so you decided to dip your foot into those waters hoping they weren’t going to be as cold as you anticipated.
“I take you had a good time tonight.” The comment was seemingly genuine, but there was something bitter about the way it rolled off your tongue.
Steve avoided eye contact after you said it, not replying as he sucked in a deep breath.
“No, I really didn’t.” He spoke finally. “I had a pretty terrible time.”
To say you were confused was an understatement. Nothing about the way the evening played out implied that he had a bad time from returning late to the laughter of the woman who was rushing him off the phone.
You tilted your head quizzically, watching every small twitch on his face.
“What happened?” You blurted out, wishing you had taken an extra second to think of something better to say.
He continued picking the glass from your skin, glancing up at you for not even half a second.
“We went to dinner, and it was fine.” He mumbled, shrugging his shoulders. “Then she suggested going to this bar.” His voice trailed off as he shook his head slightly. “And we ran into a few people…Eddie and Dustin and a few other people from highschool.”
There’s a hint of pent up frustration in his voice, a tone so deep that its thickness was built up by an ongoing feeling of resentment.
“She got really drunk.” His nostrils flared. “And by that point the date was more than over. She found someone else to entertain her. When I called you I was about to drop her off at home, which was probably the best part of the whole date.”
He wasn’t rushed on the phone so he could run off with his date. He was rushed because he was uncomfortable, wanting nothing more than to leave and be home.
Steve was a lot of things, but most of all he was a really good person. Of course he wasn’t going to leave her drunk at a bar, he was going to be the one to take her home and make sure she got in safe. Even if she made his night horrible, he wasn’t the type of man to storm off and leave her to fend for herself.
“I’m so sorry.” Your words dripped with guilt. Steve wouldn’t meet your stare, keeping his eyes directed on your hand.
“Don't be sorry…the dates are always the same.” He muttered. “I show up and they talk about themselves the whole time.” A sigh falls from his lips. “They have no interest in me or at least it dies off pretty quickly after they find out I have a kid.”
After his fourth date with a different woman, you began to wonder why he never made it to a second date with any of them.
“But I guess I'm no better.” He pushed his glasses off his face, letting them sit on his head where they look like they’re about to fall off. You felt the burn of the alcohol seeping into your cut, the sensation making you bite back a wince.
“What makes you say that?” You reached with your free hand, taking his glasses off his scalp, placing them on the top of the shelf next to you.
“Because the whole time they’re talking I’m thinking about someone else.” His gaze flicked up to yours, eyes locking like magnets.
You felt paralyzed, not one part of your body daring to move in a way that might be even a little bit noticeable. Trying to process what you heard, you remained speechless. You thought you were out of the woods for a brief moment, the guilt you felt being accompanied by selfish relief.
“Someone else?” You blinked rapidly.
Steve couldn’t help but to be amused at your innocence regarding the subject. His lips were being tugged at the edges as he fought off the smile he so badly wanted to show you.
“Someone else.” He confided. “Someone who listens to me, and cares about what I have to say. Someone who cares about my daughter almost as much as I do.”
Your heart was working incredibly fast, beating in large thrums as it pumped your blood through your veins. The blood rushed through your body, making a pulse appear in every place where one could form.
Steve cut and measured a bandage, the metal scissors making a clicking noise as they hit the desk. As he wrapped it around your hand, he kept talking.
“I can’t stop thinking about her.” He released, securing the bandage by placing it around your hand a few times. “
“I can’t get the smell of her vanilla perfume out of my head and I really can’t stop wondering if that lipgloss she loves so much is anywhere as sweet as she is.” His voice was as soft as the silk of your pillowcase, keeping your face and hair safe as you slept.
Your heart was beating so fast you were sure he could hear it, the sound filling his ears the same way it filled yours.
He was talking about you. He was talking about the vanilla perfume you sprayed on each morning you left your house, making sure to put it in places it would stick. He was referring to the lip gloss that sat on your lips as he spoke, the strawberry flavour filling your mouth more than it ever had.
“And sometimes I think about those nights when I come home and find her asleep on my couch…” Steve places your hand down in your lap, never letting go of it.
“I never wanna wake her up.” His fingers reach out, pushing a small piece of hair from your face. “I wanna put a blanket over her and let her sleep soundly… or carry her up to my bed and let her sleep comfortably next to me.”
Steve looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever set his sights on. Your beauty was intoxicating, making it hard to concentrate on anything but the way your smile was visible on your entire face.
Steve thought he would have noticed the day that his innocent fondness for you grew into something more, but he didn’t.
Maybe he would have if he was paying more attention, but he was too busy loving every moment he got to spend with you. He was hypnotised by how much he liked you to realise how hard he was falling for you. He was too distracted by the constant voice in his head telling him this was wrong to notice that you felt the exact same way.
Your stomach contracted, nerves forming there and balling together. The hairs on your body stood on end, the air in the room feeling ice cold.
Though it was obvious who he was talking about, you played along with the idea that you had no clue.
“Why don’t you take this someone else out?” You put forth, not moving your hand from where it rested in his. There were freckles on his cheeks, spreading down his neck like the stars in the sky, making you want to reach out and touch them.
“I’m not sure she sees me like that.” He said honestly, looking from your lips back to your eyes.
“You won’t know for sure until you say something to her.” You hum, the pain that lived in your hand faded into the background, along with the hurt you were feeling earlier.
“It’s more than that.” He shook his head. “I’m worried she might find this whole thing inappropriate and think I’m a terrible person.” His face held a genuine concern, one that you had yet to see from him. He was afraid of disappointing you and making you think of him in a way that was all too familiar with his younger self.
“I promise you.” You sat up further, a begging look on your face. “She could never think anything negative about you.”
Steve wanted to accept what you were saying as the truth, but a small part of him was still ridden with some kind of worry.
“I’m still not sure it’s the best idea.” He whispered, his large hand cupping your cheek like it was a snowflake, delicate and light, melting if he touched it too roughly.
“Steve.” You begged, his heart aching so strongly he felt it in his back. You pushed into his touch, rubbing your cheek on the palm of his hand.
Slowly, you moved further to the edge of the desk, pressing your thighs into the sides of his. Your dress rode up, the edge of it sitting in the middle of the doughy part of your leg. You felt him move closer, pressing himself into the wood.
“Tell me this is okay.” He whispered, both hands holding the base of your jaw up to your cheeks.
“I can’t stop thinking about you either…no matter how much I try.” You breath, your hands wrapped around both his wrists.
The longer he stared at you, feeling your breath fanning his face, the softer his expression got and the closer he got to giving in.
“Please.” You say so quietly he almost didn’t hear it. It was the final push he needed to allow himself to give in to the thing you both so badly wanted.
Steve rested his forehead on yours for a second, resting there as he attempted to ground himself. You stayed there peacefully, soaking it up just in case it was the first and last time you were going to be this close to him.
After what felt like a lifetime of waiting, he tilted your chin up, capturing your lips in a kiss so sweet that happiness threatened to spill from your eyes.
Steve took his time with you, kissing you so slowly that it felt like your heart was going to give out on you. His lips moved against yours like they had been there before, knowing each curve of them and exactly what to do to make you feel like you were floating.
Your lips were softer than he ever imagined, and your lip gloss was just as sweet as he was hoping it would be. Everything about you from the tickle of your breath to the smell of your hair was making a warm sensation blossom in Steve’s chest, taking over all of his senses.
Every inch of you was lit up with an incandescent glow, a garden blooming in your stomach, its roots travelling to intertwine around your heart. Steve’s hands on your face, his lips on yours, they were lighting you up in a way you never experienced before.
Your hands travelled down his arms, curving down his neck to rest upon his chest. Right there, a little adjacent to where his heart lived, you could feel it beating against his chest so hard it felt like it was trying to escape from his ribcage.
“You okay?” You grinned against his lips, not being able to stop it no matter how hard you tried. The feeling of your hand resting on his chest made Steve dizzy, making him feel like he was a lovesick teenager again.
“Barely hanging on here.” His smile was impossibly large, causing a giggle to fall from your lips.
Hesitantly, he moved a hand, pressing it onto your chest, over your dress, and above your left breast, holding it there flat. Your eyes were inviting him in, a silent and unspoken way of telling him this was still okay.
“Are you okay?” He whispered with a smile, feeling your heart beating against your chest.
“Hanging on.” A whispered giggled was pushed from your diaphragm. “By a thread.” Your comment was meant to be a playful push back at what he said, only it was the truth.
He rubbed the tip of his nose on yours, the back and forth motion sending a tickle straight through you. The action was filled with care, but within it there was the promise of something more, telling you this wasn’t where he planned on leaving things.
“Have you thought about this before?” He asks. The question would have been innocent if it weren’t for the heat emitting off his body, making the knots of sexual tension between the two of you come undone.
“Many times.” You admit, your fingers playing with the top button of his shirt. Steve leaned into your touch, his hands moving to rest on your covered thighs.
“Is this how you imagined it?” Though his breath is hot against your face, the chill that creeps down your back is cold.
“Sometimes yeah.” Your eyes meet him as you pull the button out of the fabric, fingers carefully moving to the next one. “Usually there’s a lot more kissing.”
Steve laughs softly, planting a kiss on your cheek, then another, and one more after that. He leaves a chaste kiss on your lips, one that has you longing for more.
Another button pops undone, dark brown chest hair peeking out at you.
“Have you thought about this?” You ask him, leaving a sticky strawberry scented kiss on his freckled cheek.
His fingertips glide down, coming in contact with the bare skin of your knee as they creep under the fabric of your dress.
“Many times.” He whispers, his own body suffering from the pain that anticipation brings.
“Is this how you pictured it?” Your voice is gentle as you take out the fourth button, leaving Steve’s chest exposed.
“Normally I’d have you in my bed by now.” He smiles at the noise you let out, a mix of a hum and a whine.
There’s a syrupy smile on your face, a kind of smile you wear when you finally get something you want and are able to hold it in your hands finally.
His hands are up on the dough of your thighs now, thumbs rubbing soft back and forth motions there. The whole thing is intimate and sweet, confessions being spilled between two people who yearn for each other.
As you undo the final button your hand pushes against this bare torso, encouraging him to step back.
Of course he does, letting you know that you’re in control as much as he is. His blood runs cold for a second as you slide off the hard desk, careful to not put much pressure on your hand.
His brain runs crazy with the idea that something is wrong, like the reality of the situation just settled into you and you’re about to go home and never speak to him again.
Steve is too stunned to speak, body turning slowly as he watches you for the first time ever rest your body against his bed. The white of your dress stands out against the darker colours in his room. Your being there added a lightness to the room, a gentle beauty that he alone could never bring into the space.
“Now I’m in your bed.” You mused. The way he was staring at you was making you nervous, palms growing clammy as you waited for him to make a move.
He hides a smile as he nods, walking over to where you’re laying. You feel the bed dip beside you, one of Steve’s knees pressing into the mattress between your legs. He rests a forearm onto the pillow beside your head, his face inches from yours.
“And now you’re in my bed.” He beamed, kissing you slowly.
The kiss was a bit more rushed this time but still as gentle as it could possibly be. Your lips parted slightly, allowing him to slot his tongue into your mouth, earning a soft moan from you.
You pushed the wrinkled fabric of his shirt off his shoulder, pleased as he tried to work it off his body without removing his mouth from yours. Once it was off you ran your hands along his naked shoulders, ending your movement at the back of his neck where you scratched his skin kindly. The sound that leaves his throat is a groan that he tried to swallow, the noise getting caught in his throat.
His palm smoothes over the skin of your thigh, fingers bringing the light fabric of your dress up, exposing your panties to him. He doesn’t break away to look at your body, instead letting his fingertips explore the new land that was your skin.
Steve’s fingers trace where the lace rests on your hip, making his way around to where it rests below your tummy. There’s butterflies growing everywhere he touches, fluttering their wings against you where the feeling of his fingertips linger.
There’s an ache that starts in your stomach, extending down to where you need him most.
Right when you think he’s about to give you the satisfaction of a small touch, his hand makes its way back around to your thigh, squeezing your skin.
“I’m gonna take these off, baby.” It’s both a statement and a question as he hooks a finger under the band of your panties.
“Okay.” You say, reeling at the sound of him calling you something so sweet. You lift your hips for him, making it easier for him to slide your panties down your legs.
He rewards the action with a kiss to your knee, a silent ‘thank you’.
You didn’t realise how wet you actually were until the sticky lace was pulled from your core, a string of slick falling onto the sheets below you. You would have been embarrassed in any other situation, an apology forming on your tongue but quickly fading as you hear a guttural moan from Steve.
“God, you’re beautiful.” He spreads your thighs open, leaving you on full display for him. His thumb runs along the edge of your dripping cunt, his mouth ajar as he watches how easily you open up for him.
“Steve.” You whine, his mostly unintentional teasing becoming unbearable. Your hips jerk up off the bed, searching for his touch. He firmly presses them back into the bed, his hand holding them down as he eases down to lay beside you.
“I’m right here.” He hums, holding your thighs open. “I’ve got you.”
Before you can take another breath you feel his fingers gathering some of your slick, dragging it through your folds up to the bundle of nerves at the top of your cunt. He rubs your clit slowly, circling it with just enough pressure. A sharp sound of pleasure falls from your parted lips, eyebrows knitting as you relax into this feeling.
Steve’s face is above yours, his elbow propping him up over you slightly. He’s watching every move of your face, enjoying every small sound you’re making while he strokes your cunt. Your body is still slightly rigid, he can see how hard you’re trying to stay still.
“Sweetheart.” He whispers, moving toward you so that his body is resting against your own. He lets himself rest on his forearm again, pressing it above your head. “Breathe for me.”
You move as close as you can get to him, turning your body so you’re facing him, a leg resting over top of his. You let out a shaky breath, holding his face loosely with your hand. His fingers and moving down every so often, the tips of them dipping into you before pulling back up to your clit as if he was playing an instrument.
He kisses you delicately, pink lips moving against yours with tender care. His middle finger slides into you with ease, your body accepting it greedily. You keep kissing him, small hums vibrating through your body as he works his finger in and out of you. When he slips in a second finger, you break the kiss, moaning right into his open mouth as he curls the digits deep inside you.
“That feel good, honey?” He asks with a smile, lips ghosting over yours as he continues the exact same motion.
“Uh huh” You mewl, letting your swollen lips brush on his. You can barely think with his fingers inside you, the feeling of them blurring your thoughts almost completely.
“You wear such pretty dresses when you come over.” His voice is deeper than before as he looks from the material back up to your eyes. “Are they for me?”
There’s a new confidence in his voice, comfort and trust settling in, allowing him to say everything he’s wanted to for months.
His fingers physically can't get any deeper, so he brings his thumb up to brush against your clit. You’re giving him the sweetest sounds he has ever heard and he hopes he can remember them forever.
“They’re for you.” You manage to say at the end of a deep breath. “Wanted…” A whine rips through you. “Wanted your attention.”
“That’s real sweet, baby.” He presses a long kiss to your forehead. The kiss is filled with love rather than lust, your words making Steve burn with the urge to care for you.
He moves his hand a little faster, the sticky sounds of your cunt hitting against his hand filling the bedroom. He’s still managing to curl his fingers inside of you, your nails scraping against the slope of his shoulder.
“You always have my attention, hm?” He tells you truthfully, feeling you arch into his hand. You can’t reply, only gasping at the feeling blooming in your lower abdomen.
“Think about you the whole time I’m out.” He murmurs. “Come home early just to see you again, I can never help myself.”
Your head is leaning against his shoulder as you sob out an obscene noise, your eyes shut tight. You’re clenching around him hard, your walls closing with every word that leaves his mouth.
“S-Steve.” You swallow, breath ragged as the feeling below grows stronger. “I want you…I want you inside me.”
Your words make his cock harden in his pants, straining against the black material uncomfortably. He so badly wants to let you have him, but he knows better than to try and fuck you without making you cum atleast once.
“Need you to cum for me.” You’re rolling your hips against his hand, searching for more friction. “You’re so fucking tight, honey. You won’t be able to take it if you don’t cum for me.”
“Can take it, Steve.” You pull your face from his arm, a weepy look on your features. “Please let me have it.”
You’re desperate for him and you’re desperate to cum, the combination making you relentless to get what you want.
“You gonna be good for me?” He looks at you, eyes gente but stern as he speaks. “Be good for me, sweetheart, come on.”
The thrusting of his fingers keeps up, giving extra attention to the skin over your clit. Your thighs are shaking slightly, the muscles getting tight as you try and focus on letting yourself go. Steve whispering something to you that you can’t make out over the ringing deep in your ear. He’s doing everything he can to help you get there, his lips kissing your cheek repeatedly.
There’s a high pitched whimper of his name as you tip over the edge, unable to control any of the noises you make. Your body feels heavy then light again, toes curling and calves aching as a delightful feeling spreads through you. You know Steve is gonna have red marks on his shoulder from how hard your nails are digging into it.
“That’s it.” He praises. “There’s my good girl.” You can feel him smiling on your skin, his voice dripping with pride.
Slowly he moves his hand from your cunt, your face pulled together as you adjust to the uncomfortable emptiness. You close your thighs around his hand, trying to make the shock waves of pleasure slow down.
“Steve?” You breath raggedly, suddenly aware of how hot you are, your dress feeling suffocating. He can sense that you’re uncomfortable, a few lines of worry forming on his forehead.
“Yeah, honey?” He looks at you sweetly, noticing the thin layer of sweat on your forehead.
“Can you take my dress off?” You request, leaning into him so that you can kiss his stubbly chin.
“I can do that.” He says, pulling his hand from your wet thighs. “Think you can stand up for me?”
Steve’s making his way across the bed and onto the floor beside it before you can answer, reaching out a hand for you. He looks incredibly handsome right now. His tan skin is glowing more than you had ever seen in the past, styled hair now a bit rustled up but you know he could care less right now. The thick patch of hair on his chest makes you throb with need again, your eyes unable to look away.
He sees you staring, a breathy laugh leaving him as he watches you slowly getting off the bed with your eyes attached to him.
“You’re really handsome.” You whisper as you settle in front of him with your back turned to his chest. It makes his cheeks glow a soft pink as he kisses your shoulder softly, happy that you can't see his face.
“And you’re the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen.” He hums into the shell of your ear, thick fingers working to pull the zipper of your dress down.
“I am?” You ask as he pushes the fabric down your shoulders, watching it cascade down your body. His hands are rubbing your back soothingly as the dress finally falls to the ground. He kisses your naked back a few times, a gesture that makes everything ache from your lungs to the space between your legs.
“You are.” He confirms, his touch running down your sides before pulling your body into him. “Too beautiful for this world.”
You feel something hard against your ass, pressing into you with need. You moan quietly, placing your hands over his as he moves them around your body.
He urges your head to the side, tilting it so that your neck is on full display for him.
“Too beautiful to let just anyone touch you, honey.” The first few kisses on your unclothed neck are innocent, starting by your ear and travelling to your shoulder.
To let anyone but me touch you. Is what he really meant, afraid to let the words fall out.
The kisses that follow are darker, his lips sucking on each spot of your neck they stop. He finds a spot he likes, biting at the skin there tenderly, his tongue running over the spot after each bite that is harder.
“Feels like a dream to be this close to you, can’t believe it’s real..” Your mouth is open but there's no sound coming out, jaw slack at the bliss you feel.
His hand runs over your tummy, greedily trying to get a feel for every inch of your body as he sucks and bites at your sensitive skin. The urge to touch him is overwhelming, it was completely tangible, yet it took everything to pull yourself out of the moment.
“S-Sit down.” You request, secretly wishing he would never stop kissing you. “Please, Steve.”
He reaches to hold your hand, not wanting to be away from your touch. Backing up slowly he sits on the edge of the bed, his eyes alight with elation as he pulls you closer to him. You couldn’t help but notice how much softer his eyes got whenever he looked at you, the golden hazel colour becoming a comforting light brown that felt like a warm drink on a cold day.
“What’re you doing, baby?” He’s amused but curious, hands grabbing the backs of your thighs once you get close enough for him to do so.
You stand between his legs, bending down so you can kiss his toned shoulder.
“Showing you this is real.” Your voice is angelic, light and golden as you whisper in his ear.
You kiss along his tan shoulder, taking the time to kiss each freckle that adorns his skin. Your breath along his skin was amiable, heating him up both physically and mentally. The open mouth kisses you trail up and over his Adam's apple are wet and a little sticky from what barely remains of your lipgloss.
His hand moves to the back of your neck, not to hold you there but to massage you and remind you that this was all okay. Somewhere along his neck your kissing turns into a gentle nipping, biting into his skin enough to make his pulse quicken.
When you pull away you look at his skin, the beginnings of broken blood vessels present, but nothing that will leave much of a mark, unfortunately for you.
“I don’t know how all of those women didn’t fall at your feet, Steve.” You run your fingers down the hair of his chest, your thumb running down to above his belly button.
You duck your head down again, kissing the soft skin of his tummy.
Steve groans like you’ve never heard. It starts out as a choked out word, transforming into an inaudible sound of disbelief. He sounds like he’s stuttering, trying to form a sentence but the pleasured noises from his diaphragm keep cutting him off.
You look up at him with half-lidded eyes, the sight above you is so intense you have no choice but to kneel into the ground between his legs.
His chest is heaving heavily, cheeks a burning red colour, beginning to look the way they did that morning when you saw him on his run. The way he’s looking at you is something you had never experienced. It’s hungry and sinful, but at the same time it’s gentle and beautiful, two things you were sure only lovers experienced together.
Humming softly you close your eyes, continuing to leave feather-like kisses on his stomach.
Steve felt as if he was about to have a heart attack. He didn’t find himself in bed with people often, and when he did he was always left emotionally unsatisfied, even physically sometimes.
But this was putting him into overdrive, all of his senses being overloaded at the same time to create a feeling that was burning him to his core. He feels energised but completely weak at the same time. He wants to give you everything right now, but for the first time since the fall of 1984, he’s okay with the idea of letting someone, you, love on him for a moment.
“Steve.” You whisper, the sound causing his eyes to blink open again to look at you. Your hand is on the button of his pants, thumb rubbing over the small details on the front of it. “Can we take these off…”
“Of course.” He sits back up from where he was leaning, cradling your chin in one hand. “Go ahead, my girl.”
My girl.
Your stomach twisted into a knot, heart beating in your ears so persistently that you were sure you must have misheard him. His words are so gentle, stare so intense, but instead you decide not to dwell on words that were most likely created by the heat of the moment.
The button pops open, the zipper coming open slowly. You can’t pull them down anymore without help, looking at him with the beginnings of a pout on your lips.
“Come up on the bed, honey.” He kisses you once you stand to your full height, guiding you onto the bed.
You kneel into the middle of the firm mattress, shamelessly watching as he starts to take his pants and boxers off. He shakes his head as you make eye contact one last time, your lips turned up into a soft smile.
He pushes them down completely, stepping out of his pants and coming onto the bed next to you. You aren’t even looking at him, gaze caught on how his hard cock rests on his stomach when he lays down.
The tip is bitten pink, one thick vein running down the side of it, he easily has the biggest cock you’ve ever seen, the size of it alone makes your stomach twist with need. The longer you looked at it the more you understood his persistence on making you cum before he fucked you.
“Steve.” You swallow thickly, face struck with disbelief. There’s a hint of fear in your voice, a sound that he doesn’t like.
“What’s wrong?” His eyebrows twist along his forehead, placing a hand on your thigh.
“I’m not…I can’t.” You shake your head and place your gaze back to him. “I can’t do it…you’re too big I can’t take it.”
Steve can’t help but smile, clicking his tongue in his mouth as he rubs your thigh.
“You can do it, sweetheart.” He whispers, pulling you into his lap. “You’re such a good girl, I know you can do it.”
“I can try.” You whine, melting in his arms like it’s nothing. “But I’m sorry-”
“None of that, no sorries.” He kisses your cheek gently. “We’ll go so slow, yeah? Stretch you open nice and wide for me.”
Your uneasiness fades into nothing, being replaced by the need to be close to him. You can feel yourself dripping on his abdomen, the slick connecting your cunt to his body. You feel hot, like if you don't get him fast enough you might just start crying.
“Can I be on top?” You ask him, hands already locked around the back of his neck.
“Yeah? You wanna fuck yourself onto me, baby?” He teases, managing to sit up a little bit with you on top of him. “Are you sure you can do it? Be a big girl for me?”
Steve takes notice of how hard you whine when his words are a little condescending. Your focus drifting away, eyes closing as you smile gently and nod your head, trying to find the words to say to him. He never would have expected you to like it so much, but he’s not complaining whatsoever.
“I can do it.” You nod, trying to find a stronger voice. “Need to feel you.”
You placed your knees on either side of him, your hurt hand holding onto his shoulder. The feeling of the gauze there makes Steve feel it off him, checking that the bandage was still okay.
He only looked at you, checking in on you silently the same way he did when your car broke down and he took it to Eddie’s shop for you. The room was loud and busy but even through it he gave you that reassuring look, reminding you he was right there if you needed him.
“It feels okay. I promise.” You say quietly, earning a squeeze on your arm as he places your hand back down on his shoulder.
You reach a hand between your bodies, taking his cock in your hand. It feels even bigger now that you’re holding it, one of your hands not being enough to wrap fully around the top half of it. Steve hisses when you rub your thumb over the slit, pushing the clear liquid leaking out around his burning skin.
“Lift your hips a bit for me.” He suggests, opting to hold the back of one of your thighs to support you through it. You guide the tip of his cock to your entrance, the mere prodding of it against you makes you moan.
You sink down slightly, letting his cock into you just enough to catch him there. Already your cunt is burning from the stretch, the wind being knocked out of you as you manage to fit the tip of his cock into you.
“Look at you, baby.” He praises. “Already takin’ me so well, aren’t you?”
The noises you were trying to conceal break free after that, a loud shaky whimper that has you opening your eyes to see his reaction. He’s staring at you the same way he always does, like you’re what makes the world turn on its axis, causing the sun to set and rise again.
You try to sink down further, the burning sensation only getting worse. Steve can feel how much you’re stretching around him, your walls so tight around him that he’s moaning pornographically. He’s about halfway inside you now and you already feel full, having no idea how you’re meant to fit the rest of him inside.
“Oh god.” You whine, pussy clenching around him tightly. “It’s s’big, you’re so big.”
“I know, honey, I know.” He was rubbing your skin in any way he could, doing anything to ease the pain you were in.
Your voice is almost as weepy as your cunt, dripping down his shaft more with each huff of air you let out.
A little bit more of him pushes in, making your whole body tense in a way that has you pouting in discomfort. Steve knew this was bound to happen, never in his life had anyone taken him with ease on the first try. He hated knowing that this was hurting you, and by the choked up sounds you were making, he knew it was becoming a lot for you to handle.
“I can’t.” You say, feeling embarrassed. “It’s too much, I can’t.”
You had never had anything this big inside of you, your walls not knowing how to with it. The frustration bubbled up with the realisation that you wanted to move, to take him fully, but it felt impossible for a second.
“Hey hey.” Steve whispers quickly, sitting up so he can tug you into his chest a bit. Firm hands rub your naked back, trying to calm the repeated whimpers you let out.
“So brave, hm?” He tells you, letting you tuck your head into his shoulder. “Why’re you embarrassed, baby? I’m so proud of you, doing such a good job.”
He feels you relax into him, shoulders untenseing, your gummy walls opening up for him once again. Steve chuckles as he hears you whine, pulling your face from his neck and looking at him again. Even though it's the first time you’re having sex with him, he knows you well, he knows what you want.
“You were so sure of yourself with my fingers in you.” He taunts, feeling you sliding down his cock at a painfully slow rate.. “Not so tough anymore, huh? My cocks too much…what did I tell you, honey?”
Your head falls back, a loud sigh escaping you when you’re able to take more of him, making Steve groan. He reaches to tug on one of your nipples, the sensitive bud hardening under his fingertips almost immediately.
“I can do it.” You argue, walls fluttering around him with need. “Want it all.”
You let out one last shaky breath, relaxing your body as you take the last bit of him. The fullness you feel is overwhelming, making it seem as if he was in your stomach. You’re gasping as you let him sit in you fully, trying to remember how to breathe properly.
“That’s it, there you go, sweetheart.” Steve grunts. “You feel so good for me, your pretty pussy keeping me nice and warm.”
“Oh my- mmm” You pant, fingernails scraping the back of his neck. Your head is a mess, thoughts floating around so fast that you can’t catch them.
The burn of the stretch begins to fade slowly, clit aching with how much you need to move on him. He’s so big, but you know it’s gonna feel heavenly when you start to bounce on his cock, letting him really split you open.
You try to move, try to lift your hips and move back down onto him but you can’t. Your thighs are shaking, buzzing with a cramping sensation with every move you make. Your hands move to his chest, trying to get leverage but they end up clenching into fists.
“Oh you poor thing.” He teased. “Never been fucked this well have you? Don’t even know what to do with yourself.”
“N-No.” You shook your head. “I need you to help me, Steve, please.”
He’s grabbing one of your legs and untucking it from where you kneel, telling you to wrap your legs around him. It’s a bit awkward trying to manoeuvre your body when he’s inside you, every movement making you wince. The new position has the tip of his cock hitting deep inside your channel, rubbing on that sweet spongy spot that makes your eyes roll back into your head.
It’s a sticky mess between your bodies, your slick coating everything below it from your inner thighs to Steve’s balls. Once you're seated fully on him, you can't stop moaning, feeling every single inch of him pressing into you. His thick arms wrap around you, practically hugging you as he kisses you over and over again, letting you whine into his mouth.
Slowly, he begins pulling your body into him, moving his cock inside you for the first time. It’s sinful how easily your bodies slide together, the motion happening with no struggle at all. His chest hairs are brushing against your breasts, tickling your nipples each time you’re pulled back into his body.
“O-Oh.” It’s a high pitched whimper. “You’re so…you’re so deep.” The way his cock is nudging against your cervix has you reeling, toes curling harshly.
“You’re so fuckin’ wet, honey.” He murmurs, his nose nudging against your throat. “Feels so good around me.”
His hair is a mess now, sticking out a few different ways, his lips are swollen a mean red colour, cheeks stained with a rosy blush. You wondered if he only looked this good when he was inside you, something you intended on putting to the test in the future.
You move against him, not caring how much your legs hurt. The way his cock is sliding in and out of you is too good for you to not try and chase more of it. His fingertips are digging into your hips, holding you there as if he was afraid you were going to try and escape.
“You hear that?” He whispers, looking at you with soft hazel eyes. “Hear how much she likes me?”
He’s talking about your cunt, and it makes you dizzy. The lewd sounds from it are intense, a sticky squelching that fills the room every time his cock thrusts in and pulls out again. It’s delicious, and fuck does it feel good.
Your moans have turned into sobs of pleasure, they’re desperate and breathy, begging him to not stop. It’s too late before you realise how fucked out you are, your emotions getting the best of you as you begin to mumble something that Steve can’t quite make out.
“What is it, baby?” His fingers trace your spine, scratching lightly.
“Am…Am I..” You choke out. “Am I your girl?”
Steve’s face softens, pulling you back into his chest as he shushes you sweetly. Practically hugging you he starts whispering to you, not wanting you to be embarrassed for needing reassurance. He thinks you might be overwhelmed with pleasure, needing to hear him talk to you.
“I’m right here.” He breathes. “You have me, I'm right here.”
He can feel you shaking your head on his neck, fighting his biceps to let you look at him again. There’s a hollow feeling in your heart, a worry that he avoided your question for a reason.
“Steve…Am I your girl?” Your eyes are glossy, lip caught between your teeth. “You called that earlier and…” You trail off, looking at him as you try and fight off the moans that threaten to spill.
“Shh.” He whispers, one hand leaving your back to hold your face. “You’re my girl, honey. Ever since I saw you on my driveway you’ve been my girl.”
He watches your expression soften into relief.
“You’re so sweet and so perfect.” He tells you with confidence. “I don’t want anyone else.”
With your bodies intertwined like this and the words leaving his mouth, Steve can’t stop feeling like maybe he had been wrong about love all this time. Maybe it wasn’t hot and cold or black and white.
Loving you was warm, it was golden, like daylight.
Both of your arms tighten around him, hanging onto him like your life depended on it. His fat cock is still dragging in and out of you, only adding to the immense love you’re feeling for him. He knows you’re content with his response by the long whiny sigh you let out into his ear.
Steve can’t help but to reach down and search for your clit, rubbing the still sensitive bead as delicately as possible. The feels makes the pressure in your stomach grow faster, all the pain you felt before dissolving into a sugary sweet bliss.
“Feels…feels good.” Is all you can get out, making Steve chuckle.
“I bet it does, my pretty girl.” He growls, his cock twitching inside you. The same feeling is growing within Steve, his balls begging to drain with each thrust of his hips. “Can feel you tugging me in, know it must feel good.”
You know you’re done for when you reach down and press a hand into the space above where your pubic hair would grow. You can feel the head of his cock against your hand, tapping it each time Steve pushes into you.
“I-I…oh my fucking god.” You sob out. “I can feel you…”
Steve’s hand is replacing yours before you can think to show him, licking his pink lips as he laughs.
“Shit, baby.” He mocks, pressing his hand into it. “Can feel me in your tummy, huh? Pretty pussy…she's swallowing me whole.”
Everything feels snug right now, from the fit of Steve’s cock in you to the space between your bodies. The bliss growing in your stomach is nearly tipping over the edge, making it hard to breathe in a normal pattern. The sound of Steve moaning and growling your name is making it impossible to keep off your orgasm, teary eyes dragging to look at him.
“S-Steve.” You vibrate, body shaking again as you try and blink the tears away.
“Yeah? Crying over my cock, sweetheart?” He’s taunting you again, knowing the impact it carries. “Just so bent out of shape, huh?”
You don’t get a moment to think before you’re cumming again, white hot pleasure pulsing through your veins. The sob you let out is a scream, followed by several smaller ones back to back to back. You swear your ears are ringing, only being able to hear the small whispers from Steve.
“There’s my good girl.” “Cum on my cock, that’s it.” “So sweet for me aren’t you?”
As you come down your fingers tangle in his brown locks, letting him bite on the skin of your neck again as makes it to the finish line himself. He goes stiff against you with one final hard thrust, staying there as he paints your walls with his release. He thrusts a few times after that, letting his cock cool off from the overload of bliss.
You stay tangled together for sometime after, catching your breath while you draw patterns into his skin. There’s a lingering fear in the air from both of you, not knowing what’s gonna happen when you lift your heads and see eachother again.
He feels you move a hand over his heart once again, feeling it beating.
“Are you okay?” You smile softly just how you did earlier.
“Never been better.” He places a hand over your heart once more, feeling it for a few seconds.
“Are you okay, honey?” He asks you.
“Hanging on…by a lot more than a thread.” You whisper, letting your forehead fall against his before kissing him with the same gentleness as the first kiss you shared tonight.
You felt at peace for the first time since you met Steve, not having to guess how he felt about you through shared glances and stolen touches. He was finally letting you in the way he dreamed of, feeling less scared of the idea of being loved by someone in this way.
“Stay the night.” He whispered as he broke the kiss.
Your chest burned with happiness, your eyes smiling as well as your lips.
“Is this to make up for all the nights you didn’t let me sleep here?” You asked with a light laugh.
“Mm, yeah.” He nodded, pulling you closer. “And you know…you are my girl after all, right?”
“Yeah…yeah, I am.” You whispered, looking at him fondly.
the liminal space between love and lonely | m. izuku
➳ tags ;; PLEASE READ! 18+ slow-burn, strangers to lovers, fem!reader, plot with porn, explorations of themes like loneliness, minor character death (oc character!), critique of the hero system and of deku, a character study of izuku midoriya, reader is a college student but no age specified!, cooking scene solo!male masturbation, emotional sex, praise kink, fingering, oral (f!recieving), unprotected sex, mostly very vanilla, multiple orgasms, creampies,
➳ wc ;; 26.2k
➳ a/n ;; well folks. we did it. a week of non-stop yelling and screaming, emotionally damaging myself, feeling weird and fucked up and finally.. finally we're here. after all this goddamn time. credits to @/rat-zuki for the izu on the corner and my most honest to god thank you to the bubblepop server who has been only kind to me as i made this thing. especially @cyancherub, @katonshoko and @a-shy-blueberry for betaing this goddamn monster (sorry i make. This many spelling errors lol)
check out the extended authors note here!
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➳ synopsis: pro-hero deku rarely breaks from routine - the one he'd been keeping up with damn near four years. he's meticulous and lonely. he finds he doesn't really have time to feel things like love or lust or anything inbetween. he only meets you circumstance and he finds himself unprepared for the chaos you set off in his heart. what is love but an escape from the loneliness of life?
He can hear the rain from inside.
He changes out of his costume in a little stall on the far east end of town. It’s empty. A single fluorescent light hangs over his head. An eerie clean on the inside, all black tiles on the floor and white doors. A white toilet with a manual flush on it. No toilet paper on the ground, astray. His bag hangs out in the corner as he shimmies out of his hero costume. It sticks and clings to his sweaty body, the thick kevlar material stitched together with steel.
His suit looks about as grimy as him. Sliding off of his torso is a task, he carefully peels himself out of it. His arms first, slowly over his abdomen and then a pause between to take off his belt and gloves. The rest gets tugged haphazardly over his thighs and ass and he steps out of it just before it hits the floor. He doesn’t take too much care to fold it, knowing it can handle the damage. He shoves it into the little duffel bag he has on him, then stacks the rest of his accessories over top. He zips it shut carefully - and stark naked, he takes a deep breath of stale bathroom air.
It hits his body first, the exhaustion. Right in his shoulders where he drops a little. Scratching the back of his neck, he sighs while no one is watching. His whole body droops as he unceremoniously relieves himself, the sound echoing especially loud in the tile bathroom with great acoustics
After that, he reaches into his bag for some babywipes. He keeps them on him to help him feel a little hygienic after long nights. The commute home is going to be long, two bus rides to his block. He uses one wipe to clean his dick off and another few to get the first layer of sweat off of his skin. He can’t help but feel uncomfortable, a leftover residue all over him. It’s better than nothing. The wipes get folded and rest on one of his bags and then he shuffles around in his backpack for clothes.
An all-white hoodie and some basketball shorts, the kind that hang to his knees with that mesh material. He changes into them immediately, soft fabric sliding over his body and making him shudder. The act of changing clothes doesn’t get enough credit for being an act of self-care, he thinks. The shorts come on next, slide just over his v-line, and hang at his hips loosely. There’s a cap and a mask at the very bottom, a white one and a black mask that he slips over the messy mop of green on his head. He snatches another wipe for his face, quick and easy, before sliding the black mask over his mouth and nose.
He makes sure everything is in order before he dips out of there. His duffel bag over one shoulder, his bookbag on his back - steady and secure. He rummages through his things and grabs a torn-up All-Might wallet, the one he’s had since 7th grade, before grabbing the used wet wipes and crumpling them in his hands.
With his freehand, he undoes the door. There’s not a single soul in here, not even a ghost. No leaky faucets or creaking doors to signal the fact that this place is alive. A big mirror stretches along one of the walls, all connected. He doesn’t give it more than one glance as he chucks the wipes in the trash and hurries outside.
When he gets there, it’s still raining. It’s an incredible, thundering rain now. It’s gonna soak him to the bone if he even steps foot in it, and he doesn’t have an umbrella. He could wait for it to pass, he thinks - staring out into the sea of night. Just a few streetlights and gusts of wind to keep him company, a flickering light at the station, and a vending machine between the male and female bathrooms. He’ll have to run through it anyways. To make it on the transport and get home so he can get some hours of well-needed rest, maybe eat and watch a documentary.
He thinks about it for a little, mouth open and brows furrowed. If Deku goes now, he could stop by 7/11. It’s the one that’s always open no matter how late it gets.. and if he goes there maybe he could warm a bento and get a gel pack of electrolytes. He should visit his mom soon, if not for anything else, for a homemade meal. He misses his mom a lot but tries not to think about it.
He should probably just go for it, so he does. With everything clutched to his body, Izuku Midoriya runs towards the first bus-stop that he’ll have to take. One more bus when he makes it and then he’ll be home. It’s not a far run, but running in the rain is always hard. For some reason, it feels like drowning, which is weird - shouldn’t you only be able to drown if you’re in a big body of water? He runs and inhales several gusts of air and water and it feels like he’s in the ocean. He makes it in the nick of time, still catching his breath when he stops.
He ducks into the plastic shelter for people who are going to ride the bus - some advertisements stuck to the wall. He got soaked like predicted. In his head, he’s practicing the way he’s gonna bow his head to the driver. He waits a while. Everything around here is closed now, all dark and dreary. There’s a hue of blue that sets over the whole place, he thinks the streetlights here are colored like that on purpose.
He thinks it’s 10 minutes before the bus gets there. The doors make a loud whoosh sound as they pry open and Deku slips himself between the cracks of the door. He bows at the driver extra deep, an apology whispered from chapped lips that gets waved off. He sits himself in the back, on the edge - just out of instinct. If anything were to happen on the bus, he would be able to see any suspicious passenger. He’s always vigilant, like a 6th sense, sometimes he forgets he’s doing it until it hits him, randomly. All out of nowhere, leaving him to sit in. It’s uncomfortable.
He decides to put on some music, just one headphone. His airpods are deep in his bag and he has to fish for them. He has a playlist that he defaults too, softer lofi sounds and some random acoustic - or whatever he feels like. He’ll listen to anything if he likes it enough.
Another habit, he takes account of everyone in the bus with him. He’s learned to do this everywhere he goes; it’s easier. If something happens - he’ll know what to tell the police and it gets done a lot faster. Late at night, there’s not many shady characters. A man in his late 50’s wearing a construction uniform, a drunk, brown-haired male college student, and a young woman with dyed hair who keeps staring at her ring finger. Other than all of them, it’s just the bus driver and Deku. He probably looks the most suspicious, with the hat and the mask on but he figures there isn’t anything for him to do about that.
The bus ride is smooth and quiet. Nothing happens. No signals to alert him to the threat of danger, just a shared sense of nothing-ness. When he gets closer to all the shopping centres, it’s a bit more lively. He listens to music and closes his eyes. It’s nice. There are so many more colors on every street and every sign, it’s a little easier to look at. He’s the first person to get dropped off among this crowd of people, and all of them watch as he idly passes.
When he leaves and steps off , the scent of petrichor invades his lungs - a hard hit to his chest. He breathes in so much of it he stumbles. The rain is soft now, like a kiss, but it still feels he’s drowning when he inhales. Short pants between each long breath. It’s cold and his clothes cling to him a little. He has 45 minutes till the next bus gets here, and there’s a 7/11 around the corner. He’s never been to that one specifically, he just knows it’s there. Today is the first day he’s going to try to look inside. He needs some more electrolytes, a protein bar, and probably something hot. A cup ramen with an egg, or something else that he can get down in under 15 minutes.
__
The rain made it look misty and far but the walk to the 7/11 was less than ten minutes. When he comes in, still soaking wet - he finds that no one is at the counter. He thinks whoever is working is probably inside of the break room so he doesn’t bother. He thinks anyone working this late should probably avoid strange customers, even him, so he grabs a basket instead. A little water squishies in his shoes as he walks around, a trail of wet steps following behind him
The bright lights makes his head ache, so he finds himself squinting as he walks around the store. It doesn’t stop him from getting what he needs. He finds some protein bars in one aisle, next to all of the electrolyte gel packages. He throws several of them in his basket and keeps moving through, examining each thing with care and patience. He doesn’t need a lot of the things in there, but he buys them anyways. Some jelly candy, a packet of biscuit sweets, some other junk. He normally eats well, healthy - but it’s been a long day.
He gets other things. Some baby wipes for his bag since he’s running out, gauze and bandages, a small two pack of headache medicine over the counter. A silly dog trinket to put on his keys that he buys a little more shyly. He’s so engrossed in it, he doesn’t hear your quiet footsteps as you meander back to the counter. You were on your bathroom break and when you came back, a shady dude in a hoodie and mask came in. Alarmed, you watch for a while.
But given all the things in his basket, he seems harmless. A squishy shiba-inu charm isn’t exactly something a villain would own.
You get engrossed in your reading again as he gets to the food in the back part of the store. Some warm street food, warmed in a rotisserie, cup ramen and a station for hot water, disposable chopsticks and a few left-over pre-packaged bentos. He decides on ramen, some eggs, and protein bars. When he gets home he’ll eat a proper meal, or at least try - but his stomach has been rumbling since he left the bathroom.
After 5 minutes of debating, he comes up to the counter - startled by your presence. You don’t stick out to him and he doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. He blinks down at you as you tuck your book away, a paper napkin being used to keep track. It goes somewhere under the counter as you yawn before greeting him.
“Welcome to 7/11. Did you find everything okay today?”
He goes blank for a second before registering what you’ve said.
“Oh, uhm - yes,” he replies awkwardly, putting his basket on the counter and slowly taking his things out.
You don’t look up as you start scanning his items one by one, punching something into the screen as you do. You talk on autopilot.
“Long night?” you ask, mindlessly. He gives you another surprised look before breaking out into a mostly genuine laugh.
“That obvious?”
His banter catches you off-guard. Before you know it, you’re cracking a smile at him. A little laugh leaves your mouth, heavy with the evening. Raspy from exhaustion, he imagines. You give him a once over, as if you’re thinking about it before nodding.
“A little, yeah.”
The pleasantry makes your mood lighter as you scan and bag his items. With rapport built, he feels comfortable asking.
“..Is it just you working tonight?”
Caught off guard, you lift your eyes to look at him. A little ribbon of fear pulls through you before relaxing. You nod a little.
“Yeah.. just me. I work the night-shift,”
He blinks at you like you’ve said something ridiculous. In a way you have, you know you have. It’s a little unheard for a woman your age to be working alone, late at night, in the middle of the city. It irritates him that your boss, whoever they are, would let you. The hero in him wants to ask if you have any weapons you know how to use, and if you know all the exists exits and how to signal for the police.
Nothing really comes out of his mouth, brow furrowed. Noticing his concern, you decide to give him a little more info.
“I live around the corner, maybe two blocks from here. The hours aren’t great but it works for my schedule. It’s a safe area. I’m pretty vigilant, so -,”
“Still.. a civilian should already be cautious but especially a woman your age -”
You pause, and so does he. A soft pink flush dusts his cheekbones. You blink.
“Civilian… are you a hero? That would explain why you're here so late,” ― you say aloud, ringing up the last of his belongings. You give him a good look, green hair peering out of cap and green eyes bright and blinking ― “...Pro-Hero Deku right?,”
Despite the fact he’s been a pro-hero for almost 4 years, he still isn’t sure how to handle being recognized. His face is plastered over the country yet he still finds the whole thing uncomfortable. Not knowing how to reply, he just nods.
“Y-yeah.. that’s me,”
Your eyes go wide for a moment, a little shock hitting you before giving him a smile.
“Oh..cool. Nice to meet you,”
After bracing himself for a slew of questions, his check back into reality feels weird. You tap at the screen a few times before going back to normal.
“That’ll be 2,950 yen” you tell him plainly. He’s stuck for a minute but manages to grope around from his wallet. He slides his card on the little machine, punching his pin in and hearing a little ding sound. Transaction complete rings on the machine and you print the receipt, tucking into one of the bags before pushing it lightly towards him.
He can’t describe it, the sudden need to stay here for a while, instead of rushing home like he’d planned. Maybe it’s because the hero in him couldn’t just leave, knowing you’d be alone this late at night. Maybe it’s something else. He doesn’t want to think about it.
“Can I eat this here?” comes out as a messy rush, hastily pulling out the ramen. You blink at him before smiling a little. He has a charm to him, a little awkward, that makes you laugh. Makes you feel better. It’s not so bad.
“Sure,” ― you tell him, leaning over the counter ― “Want me to keep you company?”
__
“So you’re a student here?”
Deku is less than halfway into his ramen, blowing on the hot noodles between each question before carefully sliding them into his mouth. You laugh a little, nodding your head with your chin resting on your palms.
“Yeah. I’m in what’s supposed to be my last year, but I don’t think I’ll graduate until next year,” you explain. You worry it’s too much information, you doubt a hero like him is all that interested.
But he looks engrossed in your conversation, even though one of his cheeks is swollen with hot ramen.
“I don’t really know anything about college,” he admits to you sheepishly.
“Oh yeah.. not a lot of pros go into college right?,”
He shakes his head, swallowing a bite and taking a breath.
“Not really. There’s some Hero Colleges and programs but most of us just join another agency as sidekicks or try to open our own,” ― he explains to you, raking his thoughts on who he can think of that went to one ― “I don’t think anyone from U.A’s graduating classes has gone to one. Some people at Shiketsu High, but not U.A,”
You give him a half-way smirk.
“I don’t see why a school of elites would need to go to a hero college either, yknow”
He chokes on his ramen, giving you a soft pout as you giggle. He wipes his mouth with a napkin, shaking his head as if to dispel any of the thoughts.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he insists. You smile at how genuine he’s being.
“I know, but isn’t it true? A school of such prestigious heroes.. I figure most of you went pro right away,”
“Me, Kacch- Dynamight, and Shouto opened our agencies as soon as we were 18. Most of our classmates went into being sidekicks but they almost all have their own agencies,”
“It’s cool that you have your own agency. I see you in the news all the time,” you tell him, comfortable complimenting him. His whole face always stops before it hits, a little blush delicate on his face.
It’s charming about him, you think. You have to admit, even you feel starstruck. A chance encounter with Pro-Hero Deku is nothing to sneeze at. Somehow, you think interviews don’t do him enough justice. In person, he’s much more charming. He’s awkward but he banters well and he’s handsome. He listens, too. Polite and respectable, you understand why he won Japan's Sweetheart last year.
“Ah.. thank you. It’s a dream come true for me, so I have to do my best,”
You give him a little smile.
“My little cousin loves you, so I’d say you’re doing pretty good,”
His eyes go wide, big and green and full of life.
“Really?”
“Really really. I was pretty starstruck when I realized and I’m not that big into hero stuff. I learn second hand from him,”
He gives you a laugh this time, loud and bright.
“Starstruck? Really? I’m surprised… you didn’t seem fazed at all,”
You shrug.
“I’m good at hiding my reactions. Working this late, it’s part of the gig,”
He gives you a deep laugh at that, straight from his chest. It sends a little chill up your spine.
“I bet..probably see a lot of.. interesting people here, huh?”
“Yeah, sometimes. Mostly just me though, gets kinda lonely,”
You don’t mean for the words to come off so heavy when you say them. You’re going to make a joke but you stop, stagnant - his green eyes are unusually somber. The most you’ve seen them the entire night.
“Yeah..” ― he replies back, voice distant and eyes far off― “I get what you mean,”
It’s hard to explain the feeling. It’s not like anything else you’ve ever felt. Maybe it’s just the adrenaline of good company, or the absence of light that has you feeling like this. It’s odd, all of it. You take an inhale and it’s quiet, and you think for a while.
“It was nice,” ― you say first, breaking the silence ― “Having company, I mean. It was nice to have someone here. My shifts are always super boring,”
He lifts his head to look at you. He’s probably just tired, just sleepy. The plausible reason for all that can only be his exhaustion. He’s compelled anyway. With a little laugh, he throws his things away and packs up his other belongings.
“It was, wasn’t it?,”
You’re the only person he’s spoken to in weeks. Just this small talk, so far removed from everything in his life.
“I’m here at the same time, everyday so,” ― you feel shy saying it, flush reaching your neck ― “If you’re ever in the area.. wanna kill some time. It’d be nice to see you again. I’m sure you’re super busy so no -”
“I’ll be back soon,” he says with finality, a little breathy at the end of your sentence. He smiles at you and you smile at him. It’s dizzying
You laugh back, and your shoulders relax. A grin makes itself permanent, cheeks aching.
“I’ll look forward to it, Mr. Deku,”
It’s his turn to look shy.
“Ah.. Midoriya. You can just call me Midoriya,”
“I’ll look forward to it... Midoriya,”
He gives you one last goodbye, watching as you wave from the window towards him. He can’t help but laugh. When he turns around, he checks the time and his eyes go wide. An exasperated chuckle leaves his mouth. The bus he was supposed to take left more than an hour ago but the next one is close by. He’s still kind of wet from the rain, and his shoes are soaked.
But he feels full, and not at all uncomfortable . When he walks to the station, he has a permeating warmth in him. He catches the next bus with all of his things intact and makes it home in around fifteen minutes. The suns just about to rise when he stumbles into his empty apartment.
Normally, he’d feel like he’s dragging his feet. But when he gets home, he has all this energy he’s not sure what to do with. He showers first, hot water washing off the grime of the day, and when he gets out he changes into new clothes.
But when he gets out, he finds he’s not hungry. He doesn’t really want anything other than to sleep and for it to be tomorrow again. He goes home and thinks of you the whole day. He doesn’t remember the last time he slept so easily until his head hits the pillow.
__
Deku’s daily routine for the last two years has been very consistent.
It took some time for him to get it all in order, a lot of planning and replanning. He’s the head of his own agency - in the first place, he feels like he’s always on the clock. The biggest of the big three, All Might's successor, he has a lot of responsibility. When people need advice about running an agency, he’s normally the first person they’d ask. These days some of the responsibility gets passed onto Kacchan and Todoroki, but Deku has always been the friendly one, the helpful one.
He really doesn’t have it in him to say no, so when Kirishima calls him at odd hours with his most sincere “Midoriya!” it’s hard for him to ignore. A routine is less of want and more of necessity. To keep his sanity intact, he has to know exactly when and how something is going to happen. He’s more disorganized than Kacchan, and more lenient than Todoroki. And it took a long time - almost two years - to get a good schedule that he could follow every single day without getting too exhausted or overworked.
Everythings worked out, down to the most devilish detail. During the weekday, he patrols the night shift about 5 days a week. He wakes up around 12pm after going to sleep at around 6am each night. On Mondays and Fridays, he does cardio first thing in the morning and the rest of the week is weight-training. Half a gallon of water before and after each workout. He eats for the first time at 2pm and logs his macros, almost 200g of protein a day. More water and then he showers at 3pm. He’s always in the shower for 27 minutes exactly and out of the bathroom at 3:30.
After his shower, he meanders around his house and takes care of little tasks before he leaves the house in another hour. He dries his hair and puts product in it, puts on lotion and deodorant, waters whatever plant he manages to keep alive. It’s nice, the domesticity. In that time, he normally checks up on chats and replies to old friends. Always shallow, little conversations when he has the time. He calls his mom and she gives him a lecture about taking care of himself.
It’s all routine, and at 4:30 he gets dressed. The commute to his agency is about an hour, most of it just waiting for the next bus and on a good day - he makes it around 5:30, half-an hour before he’s supposed to be there. Most days though he’s lucky to be in around 5:45. When he steps foot in the agency, he’s normally swarmed immediately.
His assistant fills him on what paperwork needs approval and what’s going on in the day, within the week. What meetings, what dates, what information needs to be sent to the data analysts on the bottom floor. He’s in the office for about two hours doing housekeeping, and delegating tasks to the rest of his team. He normally eats again, right before patrols. At 8, he knows it’s time to change into his costume.
He patrols from 8:30pm to 3am, sometimes later if there’s more crime than usual. He’s the last person at the agency, and at 3am he picks up his stuff from the office. Sometimes he changes in there but most of the time - he’s rushing to get it completely closed down. He normally grabs his bags and walks to the little restroom station in the middle of nowhere.
He changes and takes two buses just like before. It’s better for the environment to commute, but he thinks maybe he should invest in a car, or a bike. The commute is much shorter at night than during the day, when there’s traffic. He’s normally home sometime around 5. He eats one big meal again and goes to sleep. He thinks he should eat a little less at night but patrols leave him starving. He showers before bed and does it all again the next day.
He has one day off a week, on Sundays he doesn’t work at all. He’s mostly unreachable except for the emergency phone he has. He disconnects other than the news on TV. He only really started taking a day off because of his mom, anyway. He spends it in the house, watching documentaries, or sleeping, or getting some more weight training in. He can deadlift a few tons by now.
His week is routine, and he keeps busy wherever he can. It’s hard to see friends when everyone is scheduled at different times, doing different things. Sometimes he gets lucky enough to see Todoroki or Kacchan during the week - and even if his childhood friend is hard pressed to admit it, it’s nice to see each other. Most Sundays, he visits his mom and hangs around her house. He thinks most people would find it weird, but it’s comforting. Laying on the couch and watching romance movies with her, passing her tissues when she cries.
He’s gotten good at laughing off her comments about when he’ll find someone. They’re lighthearted by nature, but he knows there’s an edge of truth to them. Deku doesn’t remember the last time he thought seriously about love, or the last time he changed his routine. Some things, he just doesn’t think about. He can’t, realy.
He’s had the same routine for almost 2 years and he doesn’t normally deviate from it.
But it’s been a few months, and everyday after work - Deku pushes back his plans to go home by about an hour. He catches the latest bus there and gets about an hour less of sleep than normal. It’s not enough to stop him. He doesn’t eat as much at night like he used to, not as hungry as before. He just goes home and sleeps. And lately on Sundays, he still visits his mom but he can’t wait for the weekdays to come again.
He’s been journaling since he was young, too, accustomed to jotting his day down. Just to keep track of heroic stuff. Important details. His habitual note-taking never really went away, notes of notorious villains and cases line his walls edge to edge. In his personal journal, he normally jots down whatever comes to mind. Nothing interesting. Nothing special, by nature. Deku doesn’t really have much going on.
These last few months though, each page has more than a few paragraphs. Sometimes the entries fill to the edge of the page. They’re long and detailed. Sometimes beautiful, maybe even poetic. These days, they’re filled with the words of a person. A someone. Not a classmate, or a new sidekick. Just someone, who works the nightshift of 7/11 and likes to sleep.
He’s started to keep his pen and paper in the bag instead of waiting to get home, words buzzing around in his head. He writes down the details of your conversation on the bus ride back, a playlist in his ears. On each page, there’s little bumps and blips from where the bus hits a pothole. It’s dated, and organized. You can see where little notes become full pages.
And it’s filled edge to edge with new facts about you. Next to words about what beautiful things he’d seen that day. The sun and how it rose, the dog walking on the street. It’s different for him, to sit down and think of beautiful things. He doesn’t remember the last time he found anything beautiful, at least not like this.
Deku learns these things about you, in order. He learns your name - your full name. The country you're from and where your parents are from. Where you go to school and what you major in. Your best friend's name. He learns what your tattoos mean, and how many piercings you have and which ones you want. Why you part your hair the way you do or why it’s styled the way it is, and what your favorite colors are. One week, he learns in detail your analysis of your favorite anime franchise. He learns what colors you like to paint your nails and why your manicures are always chipped.
Some details you don’t express to him, some he just catalogs. You always have your right hand over your left. Your smile is a little lopsided and you don’t rest your face often. You always look sleepy, even when you’re wide awake. You like to laugh and you like making stupid jokes. You like complimenting him. You don’t mind when he stutters in conversation. You like to eat those little jelly packets when you’re feeling antsy. Your physics class is exhausting because it’s the only book you study when you’re not reading a fiction book or manga.
You’re exhausted. You’re pretty to look at. When he looks at you, he thinks he should know more about you. He’s starting to feel something for you. It’s weird. He doesn’t mind your company. He wants to see you again.
He wants to see you again.
He wants to see you again.
__
He starts bringing face wash in his bag to look decent for you.
It works. Yesterday, when he saw you, you told him he looks refreshed. He did today again, but he knows you might not notice. Still, it felt like the right thing to do.
He ducks his head a little when he enters after his long shift. The bright lights are still blinding and it’s raining again - knee deep into storm season. He should buy an umbrella soon. When he walks in, he immediately looks at the counter. When he finds you're not there, he’s more disappointed than he should be. He gets over it fast, busying himself with grabbing his to-go choices of dinner. It’s quiet, just him and his thoughts. His back aches a little so he buys a little muscle relief pad to put on it when he gets home.
It was a busier day than normal. There was a shoot-out earlier, a couple miles from his agency. Him and Kacchan ended up taking care of it, and about a group of 7 villains were arrested at the scene. There’s three more on the loose. After everything, Uraraka came by to help take care of the aftermath but those villains were tough to fight. All long range fighters, not Deku’s speciality even with blackwhip. A small criminal organization trying to gain some notoriety in the public, Deku’s been watching their case for months now.
Nothing they can’t handle but exhausting all the same. His body is sore all over, covered in bruises. He got patched up in the agency, in the medical unit but he can’t help but feel tired.
Still, he ended up coming here. He decides to eat a bento today, instead of ramen.
When you wander back behind the counter, you smile. You watch him mutter to himself for a minute or two before calling out for him.
“Look what the cat dragged in,”
His whole body gets warm when you talk. He stands up and turns around, a grin on his cheeks. Sheepishly, he walks over to you with a basket on hand. He walks over to the counter and places the little basket on top of it. You go to scan his things with your usual autopilot on.
“Oh! A bento today?,”
He smiles and laughs, resting his forearms on the counter. Your eyes are drawn to them. Instead of the usual hoodie, it’s a white v-neck that sticks to all the most muscular parts of his body. You shiver as you look and then look away. He yawns.
“Yeah.. felt like I should eat something more proper,”
You snort a laugh at that.
“For being a pro-hero, your diet is kinda shit, isn’t it?”
He blushes at you.
“What gave it away?”
“Ramen, I can forgive. But the protein bars and electrolyte packs are dead give-aways. You don’t cook..?”
He flusters a little bit more, shaking his head when he winces.
“Never picked it up, to be honest,”
You give him a smug smile before laughing as you ring up the last of his things.
“You’re such a mamas boy,” ― you tease, and he laughs and lets you ― “Lemme guess, you didn’t learn how to do a bunch of stuff until you moved out,”
He chuckles, paying for his items in between exchanges. He nods.
“When we moved into the dorms, Kacchan had to show me how to use the washer and dryer. I was also super clumsy about washing dishes. Too much soap, not enough time under the water. Little stuff like that,”
“And now…?”
He crinkles his nose and gives you a faux-pointed look.
“And now.. I use the dishwasher. I’m clean though, I swear,”
“Uh-huh. Sure,”
He rolls his eyes and the look sends your stomach fluttering. It’s a little more snarky, more comfortable. Your cheeks ache from smiling.
“What about you?”
You hand him some wooden chopsticks, putting his basket under the table as he settles into the seat closest to your counter next to the window. You give it a thought, as if deciding on what to say.
“My place is mostly spotless, other than my bedroom. My bedroom is a complete nightmare. Clothes and books and stuff everywhere. I can cook though, had to learn since college made me super broke,” you muse. He gives you a soft smile.
You pause, tugging your lower lip between your teeth.
“I could cook for you sometime,” ― you suggest, treading especially careful, heart in the back of your throat ― “Whatever gets you to stop eating out like this.. for the greater good, y’know,”
He stares at you, gaping. For a split second he thinks he’s gonna be sick, but before you can retract - he scrambles. Chewing and swallowing his rice with impatience, he lifts a hand and nods his hand.
“No, I’d - uhm, I’d love that. I miss.. eating home cooked meals, honestly. Maybe you could.. you could teach me something?”
Your turn to be surprised. Your eyes go wide before relaxing and grinning, dropping your head down.
“Yeah. I can teach you to make curry. It’s really easy, but if I’m gonna take time out of my precious schedule to teach you, you have to promise to be a good student. No half-assing,”
Everything is so relaxed. So pleasant. He laughs, so loudly and so openly it makes your heart race. That feeling in your gut triples in size and you think to yourself, only briefly, what the odds were of meeting someone like him.
“If there’s one thing I’m good at is trying my best,” ― he tells you confidently, a little smugness tied to the end of his words. It flushes you instantly ― “I’m a fast learner too. I’ll make you proud,”
You can’t stop smiling. You think if a car came through the other window, all of your attention would still be right at him. Something about him is homely, familiar. He’s so easy to talk to, you forget that you haven’t known him long. You forget all the work you have to do still, all your worries.
“You better,” you try to say with authority. The both of you fall into laughter and it goes quiet for a moment. It’s not uncomfortable, a soft thrumming heartbeat and two people and nothing else.
“By the way,” ― you lean forward, examining him a little more closely ― “what happened today that’s got you so beat up?”
He widens his eyes and shakes his head.
“Nothing to worry about,” he assures you. The response immediately makes you frown.
“I know I’m a civilian Mr. Deku, but c'mon,” you urge “You look tired and you bought those little muscle patches - what’s up?”
He strains his face, frowning. His brow furrows.
“Are you sure you wanna know?”
You roll your eyes a little.
“Yes I’m sure. I’m always sure. If I didn’t wanna know, I wouldn’t ask,”
He supposed he can’t argue with that. He thinks on it, for a moment like he doesn’t know what to say. Your face softens watching his back and forth.
“You don’t have to sugarcoat it,” ― you say cautiously ― “Just say what,s on your mind. Don’t think about it too hard,”
He gives you a quick run-down of the day. All of the information is public, in the news. He sprinkles in some details about who he fought but doesn’t go into detail. He watches as your face strings up in concern, smiling softly at you.
“You don’t have to worry about it,” ― he tells you, his best hero look on ― “I got patched up, just sore. In a days’ work,”
“Of course I’m gonna worry,” ― your mouth curls into a pout, sighing a little ― “I know it’s your job and everything. It’s just like.. I don’t know - I still worry. I care,”
He laughs, and smiles. He doesn’t like making people worry, but from you.. it doesn’t feel so bad.
“Are you okay?” ― you ask, as if trying to figure out what you can do ― “Mentally or physically. Are you… is everything okay? Do you need anything,”
His heart feels heavy, just a little. He doesn’t remember the last time someone asked him that. He doesn’t know how to reply to it, mouth going cotton dry. His chest feels tight and his eyes are itchy.
“I uhm.. I’m really okay. Sore, like I said. But today’s job wasn’t so bad. Nobody got hurt, and everyone got out safely. It went well, all things considered,” ― he pauses like he doesn’t know how to finish his sentence ― “I’m.. today it was okay. I’m okay. Tired though, I even showered at the agency,”
You’re still frowning. Maybe you’re pushing it, the boundaries between the two of you.
“When it doesn’t go okay,” ― you say through a bated breath ― “Even when it doesn’t go okay, you can tell me. I don’t mind,”
But it sounds a lot like a please, like an “I want to know when something bad happens” and it’s enough to choke him up a little. He simply nods.
You give him a tight smile, before sighing.
“You said you were sore right? Do you… I could uhm.. help you put on your muscle patches. So you can just go home and sleep,” ― you say awkwardly ― “Th-the break room doesn’t have c-cameras so you wouldn’t have to worry about anything. I just.. I think you should rest as soon as you get home,”
There’s that funny feeling again, deep in his gut. It curls all over him, a sticky feeling so syrupy, it burns. A pink hue brushes against the nape of neck, wrapping around his ears, dancing on his nose and freckled face. He’s really not used to it. Not a moment of it.
But without thinking, he nods. Something comes over him, and he says sure.
“Yeah.. uhm. If you want too.. sure. That’d be.. nice,”
___
When he finishes his food, he throws it away in a grey trash can with a round opening. You tell him he leaves his stuff behind the counter instead of where he sits, and he obliges without hesitation. He leaves it right next to your stool where your book sits. You put a little sign up - that the employee is on a break and will be with you shortly and gesture for him.
Carefully, you guide him through a narrow hallway into the breakroom. It’s a big and windowless room. Inside of it there’s some lockers along the walls and a little rack to keep jackets and bags - separating the place into two. A TV sits against one of the walls and then a bunch of poster boards. You have employee of the month, an awkward photo of you put up. He smiles at it and you flush.
“I’ve had it for 4 months now, so the pictures are kinda old,” you explain self-consciously. He chuckles. He can’t help but feel that’s so very typical of you.
There’s a table in the center of the room. You tell him to give you a minute as you go back behind the wall. While you do, he examines the rest of the room. A machine for clocking in and out, a sink and a trash can, some chairs and some random pins for putting on your employee lanyard. Some coloring books, some crayons and other random stuff.
You return with a wooden stool you think he’ll fit on.
You take the little bag out of his hand and place it on the counter. He’s taller than you so you have to reach up to guide him to the stool. He plops himself down on it and flushes.
“Where do you need them?,”
“Uhm.. a lot of them are on my back. Upper and lower, and a few on my shoulders. Wh-when I do it alone, I just stick them on and hope for the best,” he explains to you. You shake your head.
“I figured,” ― you brush something touching your skin out of your face ― “I can press around and then you can tell me where you need one. Does that sound okay?”
His whole body goes stiff.
“I used to do this for a friend in highschool. So.. don’t worry about it too much,” ― you explain, trying your best to swallow the abashed feeling ― “Y-you might wanna take your shirt off though,”
“Oh! U-uhm.. yeah. One sec,”
You step back and try to avert your gaze. He takes his hat and mask off first and pauses. After, he gives a shaky exhale as he grabs the bottom of his v-neck in his hands, scarred hands crossing as he tugs it over his torso, above his head, and eventually all the way off of his body. All of his clothes get dropped on the table next to him, and he runs a hair through curly green hairs. Just to push back most of it, away from his face. He sits there, straightening up his back and you see it for the first time.
You’ve heard all sorts of stories about Deku and his scars. Your younger cousin has told you about it, how cool they are. It’s rumored that he has over a hundred, all kinds of battles lingering on his body. You know he has a lot, and have known ever since you saw his hands. It’s more scar tissue than skin.
It’s.. so different up close. Mixed emotions well up inside of you, and your hands tremble when you reach out and touch it. A little jolt of electricity goes up his spine and he twitches, but you don’t move your hand. Like you can’t. Your eyes are making him nervous.
“I know it’s kind of.. ugly to look at,”
You shake your head, but you realize he can’t see. You place your whole hand on his back, the muscle between his spine and shoulder. A delicate thumb brushes on the skin. You can’t seem to pull back, can’t look away at all, even when you try. Your eyes are big and they feel unusually tearful.
“No.. I don’t think they’re ugly at all. I just wasn’t expecting so many scars,”
He laughs unsteadily. It’s so intimate. His heart is in his ears. His body feels somewhere far away.
“Yeah. I hear that a lot,” ― he replies, nervous, and playing with hands like he doesn’t know what else to do ― “It doesn’t bother you..?”
It’s the softest touch. So gentle, and so.. caring. He shakes a little as you run them up, on his shoulder. You squeeze it.
“Not at all.. I like them,”
His eyes widen. He turns to look at you over his shoulder and you don’t look disgusted. You look fascinated. You look at his scars, then briefly at him. Your eyes meet and he stares at you.
“You.. like them?”
You nod, and don’t break eye-contact.
“I like them,” ― you confirm with finality, like there’s not more to be said ― “They’re unique. I don’t know.. I don’t think they’re ugly,”
He feels it, when you say it. He knows it’s nothing to ride home about, but he can’t remember. When was the last time someone touched him like this? When was the last time he let someone.. look at him so close? He can’t remember. He isn't sure he cares but he can feel your hands.. all over his skin. He breathes out.
“Thank you.. for thinking that,”
You really don’t mean to touch him. You weren’t planning on it. But your hands move freely across his skin and before you can think. You pull back.
“Is this okay?” but there’s an addendum unspoken, is it okay if i touch you like this?
He nods a little, voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah.. it’s okay,” but it sounds like yes, yes please
You reach out again, like a ghost on his body. Your hands are gentle at first, you press them against the muscles of his back. He takes a breath. You don’t feel like your voice is in its place. The words come out quiet, hushed.
“If I press somewhere and it hurts.. tell me and I’ll put a patch on,”
You don’t mean to touch him like this. Yet you can’t stop yourself either, your hands roam over the free parts of his skin, thumbs pressing down. You watch his body carefully, listening to his deep sighs or when he winces. He lets out a sharp inhale when you're closer to his lower back, so you stop and feel around. Your fingers knead the tense muscles and he lets out a soft sound, like a whimper. It’s halfway between pathetic and exhausting. Your core tightens a little.
“You’re so tense,” ― your voice is halfway above a whisper, electric ― “Relax a little,”
He wants to say he’s trying. He swears with everything he has he’s trying. But all he can think of is the pressure of your nimble hands, this skin on skin feeling - intimacy. The word feels like swallowing swords, so sharp and so deep. He can feel it in his chest, so suffocating. Overwhelming. He wants to relax but all he can think is how long it’s been.. to be touched. He hasn’t even had time to think about it. To wrap his head around something like that.
“Sorry,” comes out his mouth and you shake your head.
“It’s okay,” ― you press and he winces, then you pause and put one on ― “This is for you. I don’t want you to stress about it,”
It shocks him a little. It’s for him.. He feels feverish. He feels lightheaded and like he can’t breathe and your hands are hot they feel like steel rods. Molten against the skin of his back, you dance over every bump. He’s jagged from how often he’s been torn apart but you’re so unfazed. You touch every part, up his spine over his shoulders, down his arms.
It’s blistering to experience so much all at once. Like a flood, a natural disaster in the crevices of his heart. It’s overwhelming. The presence of your body, how the heat radiates. Your soft breaths, concentrated. The shuffle of your feet and the sounds of plastic being torn and placed. There’s nothing he can focus on other than you and how your hands are feeling his body. How small they are compared to his muscular form. How soft they are, scarless and warm. So inviting he can feel it stir in his stomach. He’s barely holding himself together, clenching his muscles so the blood stays in place.
“Is there anywhere I missed?”
No, not from what he can feel. His whole body has heat on the sorest parts of him.
“My shoulders.. the right one,” he rasps. You massage the muscle underneath until you hit his shoulders. His whole body is like stone, both stiff and muscular. You wince a little as you touch it, press on it. His whole body convulses at the feeling.
“There?”
He breathes in.
“Y-yeah, there,”
His normal numbness is replaced with oversensitivity. Every movement, or gust of wind, or touch makes him feel like his stomach is binded in knots. You don’t stop until every muscle that’s sore is covered in a soft white bandage. He tries his best to adjust to it, but he never does. When you’re all done, you smooth another hand over his skin, patting his back. He urges his disappointment down. Tries his best to leave it behind. His gut sinks.
“I think I got everything,” ― you whisper, almost noiseless, as you step away from him ― “If there’s anything else I can do for you, Midoriya - just let me know,”
He slips his shirt over his body and gathers his things. He watches you as you throw the little packets away and rearrange his bag. There’s a lingering feeling all over him, each nerve bristled. More awake than they’ve been in years. When you turn back around, his heart races even faster than before. Your eyes are unchanging, half-moons and delicate. Little rings of exhaustion and heavy lashes. He wants to do something for you, but he can’t think of anything.
“Can I have your number?”
You stumble a little at the question. You press your lips together and nod.
“Yeah,” ― you look down at your feet, shuffling nervously ― “My phones by the counter,”
The tension is so thick, he can feel it web in his lungs. Every breath he breathes smells like you, sweet. His whole body feels like it pulsates, the blood rushing in his skin. His ears pound and his footsteps feel heavy and the idea he has to leave and just go home after this makes him antsy.
You guide him back through the narrow halls after he puts his mask and hat on. He takes his bag from behind the counter and exits to the other side. No one’s come by and it doesn’t look like anyone will. You immediately grab your phone, and your hands feel like they’re buzzing.
“I’m not free this Sunday. I promised my mom I would help her with her tomato beds” ― he scratches the back of his neck, staring at the counter before braving face to meet your eyes ― “But next Sunday, if you still wanna teach me how to.. uhm, cook,”
You survey his expression, corners of your lips upturned.
“.. Yeah. Give me your phone and I can give you a time that works for me,”
He reaches for it, unlocking with a quick swipe, pulling his mask down for face ID. He hands it to you carelessly and you give him a little side-eye laughing. A pro-hero like him should be more careful. He watches as you type some words, scrolling through a sea of emoji and making sure your contact is all set up. You hand it back to him and he tucks it in his pocket.
“Text me that you made it home safe Mr. Deku,”
He shakes his head, laughing.
“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be saying to you?”
You shrug.
“Maybe. But I said it first, so you gotta do it okay? Otherwise how will I know my dame made it home safe,”
He laughs then blushes at being called a dame, shaking his head. At how ridiculous you make him feel at ease. He nods his head.
“Of course. You too, be safe getting home,”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Midoriya,”
“See you tomorrow,”
__
He doesn’t remember the last time he’s been so high strung
After his bus ride home, he finds himself alone with his thoughts for the very first time in a long time. Normally, after seeing you, his body doses itself on whatever sleepy chemical and he falls asleep promptly. But today, no matter what he does, he can’t seem to fall asleep. One hundred jumping jacks, a warm shower and warm glass of milk, counting to almost one thousand. He’s been at it for what feels like hours, trying his very best to sleep.
But he can’t turn his thoughts off. They’re especially loud and they seep themselves into every crevice of his mind, no stone unturned. He just wants to sleep. He wants it desperately but every time he reaches for it, eyelids heavy, his desire pulls him right out.
Deku’s relationship to sex is.. complicated. The older he got, the less he got off. Not because he didn’t want to, or that he didn’t have any desires but mostly because he was so swamped he didn’t have it in him to do it. He was drained enough, and if he wanted stress relief or to get the hormones out of his system - a couple hours of powerlifting seemed to do the trick. He’s had plenty of offers for sexual favors but he doesn’t really have any strings attached. The last time he had anyone.. touch him was in highschool when he lost his virginity to Uravity in his third year.
Those feelings washed out and he was left an adult with no practical experience in sex or dating. He has his fair share of fantasies, stuff that goes in his bank of materials when he finds the time for it. But he works now, so much and so often, he can only really get a quick one in when he’s in the shower. In the same way you might scratch an itch, it’s quick and easy. Not fulfilling but it gets the job done and settles his want for intimacy.
He hasn’t thought about it really at all in almost a year. There’s always so much to do, no time to think about anything but hero work. In the prime of his career, it’s even less than an afterthought.
But now it’s almost 7am and Izuku Midoriya is tossing and turning in his bed with a desire so raw and so hungry it makes his whole body burn up. He feels guilty to make you the object of his desires. It’s already hard enough for him to admit to himself what this all means. He still hasn’t and he isn’t sure when it’ll happen.
But the sun is rising and birds are chirping, and Deku has one hand pulling his shirt over his abdomen and another tugging at his cock, hard and thick and heavy. He hasn’t touched himself in so long and this yearning feeling doesn’t do anything to settle it. He spits into his palm and drips it on before setting a pace. His own hand runs carefully up his torso as he remembers your touch. So intimate and so patient. He doesn’t remember a time in his life where anyones touched him like that. You’re the first to ever treat him so gently. Your hands are so small compared to his, compared to him. He towers over you.
He knows all the little expressions you make - happy, sad, excited. He can almost see it when he squeezes his eyes shut hard enough, what you’d look like with your hands wrapped around his cock. How’d you stroke it so patiently, how soft they’d feel - it makes him fuck into his fist. Like if he goes at it hard enough it’ll start to feel like you. He wants to be sated so he holds off on cumming so quickly. He lets himself get impossibly hard and tugs his cock, edges himself till the tip of its stark red.
All he can think of is you. If he got lucky, maybe he could touch you in return. The thought sends him reeling, how your body would feel locked between his palms, massaging your skin. He wants you so bad and he wants to cum, fuck he wants to cum more than he wants anything else. He wants to cum with you, or on you, or inside of you.
“Oh fuck,” ― something guttural leaves his chest as he fantasizes about you calling his name. Not Deku or Midoriya but Izuku ― “Fuck, fuck,”
Izuku, Izuku, Izuku - it’s all he thinks of. Bouncing you so pretty on his lap while you call for him. Touching you in the same way you touched him, burning all over your skin. He wants it so bad he’s drooling. His whole body tightens and he spasms and his fist goes sloppy. He cums so hard he thinks he might see light, and it shoots so thick - all the way up to his chest. It comes out in ropes, hits his chin and keeps spurting until there’s nothing left. His body shakes, little tremors in between each breath. His breath is ragged like he’s been running a marathon. He’s sticky and he has to get up to wash his hands and clean himself off - feeling just slightly ashamed at what just occurred. He’s sure when he wakes up he’ll feel the full force of his embarrassment, and the thought alone makes his heart almost fall out of his ass.
More than anything else though, in the cool fluorescent lights of his bathroom - he examines himself. He hasn’t done that in a long time either, examine his state of being.
The nature of loneliness is that it seeps into you slowly. So slowly you don’t feel it at first. You become so isolated that you forget what it’s like to be in the company of someone. Something happens, and you don’t feel it for a brief moment, and it’s like you can breathe all over again. Someone welcomes you to themselves and you want to stay. When they smile, you want to share in their joy and when hardship troubles you, they carry their burdens on your shoulders. You meet someone, someday, and it clicks that they understand you and you are reminded of how lonely you are and have always been.
It’s nearing 8am and Deku stares at himself in the mirror for the very first time in weeks. The sun peers in through the side windows, yellow golden light making shadows all over his body. He looks at his eyes, his hands, his scars - the muscle patches and he thinks of you. And how the dreadful feeling he’s been avoiding this whole time finds him again. He knows what it’s like to be knocked on your ass, but this feels worse. Heavier, somehow.
Everything he’d been avoiding till now falls into his lap with a sudden force. It’s gut-wrenching but not agonizing. The sort of stomachache you get from knowing instead of not. He wants to go back to right before this, when he didn’t have a word. When he was ignorant to his own needs that he’d been putting off.
Japan’s Sweetheart, All-Mights Successor, Number One Hero - Izuku Midoriya is lonely.
__
Next Sunday comes so quickly he almost misses it.
It was a busy week, more so than usual. The beginning of the fall season means an increase in organized crime and a decrease in violent crimes. It’s less strenuous physically but an uprise in gang-related or villain organization killings tends to put him under an unusual amount of stress. The whole he was in and out of the agency, tracking evidence with the police and generally working longer hours. Sleeping in and napping at this desk, his assistant putting a jacket on his shoulders as he plants himself face down on his desk.
It’s more of an issue since Deku is... meticulous. He likes to be through in a way a lot of his peers just aren’t and it means he’s double, triple checking every single thing before it goes out in the reports. Tracing and retracing steps - generally stewing over hero work even when he’s asleep. Twice that week he had to jump out of his shower, naked and covered in soap, to jot down some leftover thoughts. No stone unturned and not a single path untaken.
In between all of that, he spends most of his time texting you. Or the other way around, where you give Deku silly updates about your life and he checks them like it’s what's pumping air in his lungs. What you ate and where, your commute to campus, the cat you saw on the street and thought about bringing home. He thinks you’ve caught onto the fact he doesn’t like talking too much about his job. He doesn’t mind it, hearing about things like that. It’s nice that he can reach you. That he doesn’t have to think twice about it and can message you silly little things.
You wonder if it bothers him but he always replies so enthusiastically - prompts the conversation further so he can keep it going. He fills you in on the details of his life much more sparsely, always ends his texts with a sweet little emoji and a polite “thanks for asking ☺” that sends you reeling. He’s cute. It’s a weird way to describe him but that's how you feel. He texts you dawn till dusk, each night sending a short text about everything he did that day. You start to get accustomed to his morning messages and late night texts. It’s the same for him, that soft feeling when he sees your messages.
Sunday shows up on Deku’s door much more quickly than he’s ready for. It’s the first time you’re spending official time together, and he tosses and turns the night before all night. He spends it staring at the ceiling, heart in his stomach - covering his face with his hands and rolling around his sheets. He’s inconsolable until exhaustion takes him out.
He wakes early to work-out and shower - going through his full and most thorough routine. He scrubs his whole body spotless, washes his hair with his expensive co-wash conditioner, and comes out soaking wet. He does the whole nine-yards, a nice and clean lotion, deodorant, his curl cream that he spends a whole scrunching until all the moisture is soaked in. He examines his whole body in the mirror with too much scrutiny before exiting.
He eats breakfast and tries to calm himself down all morning but to no avail, there’s no way to get around the fact he’s incredibly nervous. And now, he’s staring at his closet with regret because of how.. sparse it is. He’s never taken time to purchase anything.. nice unless it’s for a hero gala. His closet is split evenly between formal wear and athleisure but nothing casual really.
He sighs a little as he digs through the back of his closet. He manages to find an old pair of jeans - a light-washed pair that he fits a little tightly over his figure. He probably shouldn’t dress too nice, he doesn’t wanna look like a try-hard. But he also wants you to know he cares about being presentable.
He ends up with a white v-neck and a grey windbreaker overtop, snatching a headband to secure his hair so it stays out of his face. He wears a different pair of shoes, grey to match his jacket. He feels like he looks stupid, really. He takes the jacket on and off, switches shirts, but keeps the jeans and always ends up with the same outfit. He decides he’s being stupid about it at the very end, and leaves.
It’d be a lie to say that Deku hadn’t thought about today at all.
He has thought about it. Just a little. When he packs up to leave his house for the day, he grabs his bag of groceries for curry-making, his facemask and a hat, his water bottle and his keys. Including a set of keys for a brand new car, specially purchased by his assistant after he very awkwardly asked him about cars and how to go about buying one.
Deku has no experience with car stuff, and it was too embarrassing to ask Kacchan. And his assistant wouldn’t ask any questions about why his boss, who’d been commuting for almost 4 years, decided to buy a car. He also wouldn’t question why he wanted one that made him seem.. put together. And why he didn’t put a limit on the spending.
If Deku is anything these days, it’s well off. A car is only a mild dent in his expenses but the only thing he spends money on is his mom and sometimes some hero merch that goes on sale. If he finds a surplus, he writes off some donations and calls it a day.
He has to admit, it’s a bit much. Maybe more than a bit and it’s been a while since he’s driven. He normally ends up being designated driver when he goes out with his friends, and one too many times - he’s dragged out drunk employees from bars when they’ve had a little too much during company dinners.
He leaves the house in something of a hurry. It’s cloudy above, all grey and dreary. Clouds stick to each other in big clumps as he walks into his garage. Over the years, it’s just been a collection of old knick-knacks and tools. It’s the first time he’s used it for its purpose.
He slides in the front seat and turns the ignition, listening to the revv. He does a little laugh at how truly ridiculous it is - the briefest moment of self-awareness passing by in a flash. He uses his phone to open his garage door and close it before backing out and heading down the road.
__
Your apartment complex is exactly two blocks from the convenience store, like you’d promise. He parks on the side of the road, punching in his time on the parking meter before grabbing his things from the front seat. He goes through everything, including a small welcoming gift from his mom in the form of some pickled radish.
He jogs to your complex and heads into the lobby - finding the machine and pressing the little button on the door. He leans forward, clearing his throat.
“Hey, I’m here,”
A beat passes before he hears your reply.
“I’ll let you up now,”
There’s a loud buzz and unlocking sound. Deku steps inside and is greeted with an elevator. Third floor, 4th door on the right. He repeats it to himself as he steps onto the elevator, a soft yellow light illuminating him as he feels his weight press down. He presses number three and waits - listening to elevator music for what feels like ages. It stops at the second floor and an old lady enters. He bows immediately, out of habit. She’s small and frail, carrying just one bag in her hands.
“Oh.. my. What a handsome young man,” ― she comments, give him a once over ― “You must be visiting on the third floor,”
His eyes go wide.
“Oh! Thank you and yes, I’m here to see a.. friend,” he trails off. She gives him a warm smile, laughing.
“A friend, is it? Well. Tell her I say hello. All that young lady does is go to work and go to school. It’s nice to see her.. friend visiting her,”
He blushes a little at the implication. His skin grows a little hot as she laughs again.
“Ah.. yes ma’am,”
By the time the conversation is over, the elevator doors open to the third floor. Apartment doors lined up stretch across the way, and he turns around to give the old lady another bow. She gives him a wave before the doors close again and with that she’s gone. He’s still a little flustered by the interaction so he gathers himself before finding your door. Fourth door down, he walks towards it.
He stares at the wood, painted a dark blue with a little decoration on it. Another lungful of air and with a shaking hand, he gives three meek knocks. He waits a moment, and hears some rustling on the other side and in another few, it swings open.
When he finds you in the doorway, he feels his lungs go short of air. It almost feels like something out of a movie. You’re wearing an apron and casual clothes - and he realizes this is the first time he’s ever seen all of you out of uniform. A cotton t-shirt and half-way nice sweatpants on your hips - you greet him a little out of breath. A sheen of sweat, your chest heaving, you still smile when you see him.
“Hey, sorry,” ― you wheeze, brushing something out of your eyes ― “Was trying to get my fitted sheet on before you came in. It didn’t agree with me,”
There is something about seeing you that makes Deku’s heart feel like it’s taking a seat at the dinner table. He really can’t describe it, doesn’t know how to word it poetically or pace it in a way that makes sense. He’s always been good at controlling himself. He’s seldom anything but idle. His feelings are absorptions, the world around him shapes the clay of his very nature. Without rhyme or reason or anything in between - he’s always thought to trust it. To let it happen. To let things happen to him, just so it doesn’t happen to anyone else.
His everything can be traced back to a sense of justice ingrained in him so deeply, there is no way to know himself without it. His feelings aren’t his, he knows this. He is simply an amalgam - the corkboard in which the hero world pins their travesties on. In his whole life, all the years he’s been alive, he’s known this much about himself. From the inside out and back again, he knows he is wholly a reflection. His sense of self is fragile at best.
Seeing you ignites in him the strangest feelings. His feelings - so uniquely his that he doesn’t even know how to feel them. How to navigate these emotions that fester in his heart, and how just your presence has this guiding hand. How his heart takes a seat at the dinner table, the kind of meal where there is only a single light and another person. In a moment so brief, he zones out and looks at you and there is this ache. A reminder that he is so real and so human it rubs him raw. He stares at you dazed and you smile, unknowingly, and chat to him about everything you like.
How strange is love but a reminder that you exist.
“I’m rambling aren’t I?” ― you shake your head a little, before stepping aside ― “Welcome to my humble abode! I bought some slippers this weekend that should fit you,”
He smiles at you, and it’s warm and inviting.
“Yeah.. thanks,”
He takes his shoes off and puts them on the rack before slipping his feet into the house slippers you’ve set out. They’re a bright green, covered in little frogs. He laughs a little at them, as you step beside him. He gives it a look around - the place looks just like you. It’s well-lived in, like a home and not just a place to live in. There’s random knick-knacks everywhere, a consistent color scheme, and other little decorations. A stack of books in one place, an open card-game.
“You might wanna take your jacket off,” ― you say amused, watching as he slides it over his shoulders ― “Today you’re my student,”
He laughs at that and takes his jacket off, where you let it rest on the arm of one couch. He picks up the bags you’d asked him for.
“My mom told me I should bring something so she packed up some pickled radish for you,” ― he says sheepishly, handing you the bag ― “She was excited to hear that I was spending my weekend with someone who isn’t her,”
You grab the bag and peer inside, a jar of pickled radishes - purple in hue, waiting for you. You look between it and him, smiling a little.
“You.. told your mom you were coming to see me?”
He realizes a moment too late what it sounds like. His green eyes go wide as he stutters over his next sentence.
“I tell my mom everything,”
You snort a laugh at him, grabbing the rest of his bags. He gives you a little pout, nose wrinkling in embarrassment.
“Well.. tell your mom I said thank you. Maybe take her some curry home and show off your new skills,” ― you tease, easy and effortless, but you’re staring at him a little longer than you need too ― “I appreciate it,”
He gives you a lopsided smile.
“C’mere, the kitchens this way. I’m gonna worry you’re not gonna fit,” you confess. He has to duck underneath, just a little bit - and he doesn’t have to do much to touch the ceiling. He fits just fine, much to your relief. He looks in your kitchen, quaint. There’s a window above the sink filled with fresh herbs in a nice little planter with a light above. A cat timer.
“How skilled are you at cooking, would you say? Like.. none at all? Or just not very much?”
He scratches the back of his neck, trying to remember the last time he made something.
“Uhm.. we made curry during a training camp in highschool, but I think that’s the last time,”
You give wide eyes before shaking your head.
“You’re hopeless.. but that’s why I’m here,”
He watches as you roll your sleeves up as if you’re getting into gear. He’s glad he wore short sleeves.
“Wash your hands first,” you tell him. He immediately steps the sink and washes his hands as he hears some clatter in the background. You’re looking through your oven. He watches as you grab a cutting board and a small knife.
“All clean?”
He nods. You smile at him.
“I got everything ready before you got here because I had.. a feeling you would be very clumsy. But I will whip you into shape,” you scold, stern. He blushes a little.
“Yes ma’am,”
You giggle a little bit. On the kitchen island is a bunch of ingredients lined up on the table.
“We’re gonna make Japanese curry - it’s a little sweeter and milder than Thai or Indian kinds. It’s a lot easier since the roux is premade. And it’ll last you some days in the fridge. Today we’ll make it with chicken since I assume you need protein,” ― you explain to him pointedly. When you look over at him, he looks so concentrated, you almost laugh ― “We’ll cut the vegetables first, and then the meat. After everything is prepped, we’ll work on the sauce and cook everything. Sound doable?”
“I’ll try my best,”
You frown at him.
“Come on Mr. Deku, where’s the confidence?”
He laughs aloud when you call him that, straightening up a little bit. He gives you a one hand salute and you fall out. It’s so warm.. so welcoming.
“We’re not gonna do anything really complicated because it’s your first time. I’ll cut an onion and then you’ll do the next one. If you do a good job.. I’ll give you a pack of electrolyte gels,” you grin.
“Wow.. what a prize. Sure wouldn’t wanna miss on that,”
“Exactly,” ― you take an onion and steady it on the cutting board ― “Now watch me okay? First you wanna cut it half and place the flat edge down on the board,”
He follows along, making mental notes in his head.
“Now you see this part? This is the root end. We’re gonna do a large dice, so make sure you don’t cut it off. We can cut off this paper bit at the end though.. then we’re just gonna go through the middle. See that?”
Another nod, he watches as the knife slices through the middle part. You don’t cut the ends.
“Now it’s in half, so you’re gonna cut in the middle of those. 3 cuts vertically, 3 horizontally. You got it?”
“I.. think so. It doesn’t look too bad so far,”
“Good. I’m gonna show you the speed I normally do this at but you can go slow. We have all day,”
Warmth spreads through his whole body at the words “We have all day,” so soothing to his heart. His stomach fills with butterflies, loud and desperate but he nods.
“Yeah.. right,”
You show him this time, the normal speed at which you cut through your vegetables. His eyes go wide at the speedy sound of the cutting board. He wants to tell you to be careful but he doesn’t think he has the right.
“Okay. I’m gonna put these in the bowl over here and now it’s your turn,”
You switch sides, carefully moving the first half of the onion into a small bowl before placing the next one. For a man.. a hero, so tall and powerful - he looks unusually nervous. He goes for the knife, but picks it up so unsafely, you gasp aloud.
“Woah there.. getting a little eager, are we?”
He puts the knife down like it’s evil and steps away, and you breathe a laugh through your nose.
“Here.. hold your hand out,”
He does and you carefully take the knife and place it in his palms. You use your hand to curl his fingers around him, then gently guide his hands. He stutters a little and grips the butt of the knife more tight than he needs.
“Look.. see. You have to handle it like this so you don’t cut yourself. Go slowly,”
“Oh.. that feels a lot better,”
You laugh again and he gets to cutting.
He goes slow.. very slow. It feels awkward at first but he gets through it. He manages to cut the first onion into all of it’s pieces with all of his fingers together. It takes at least 10 minutes, yes - but your cheerleading makes him feel good about it.
You hold your hand to high-five him when it’s all over and he laughs and high-fives you back. He’s so pretty when he laughs, all crinkled eyes and summery - you stumble when you hear him, flushing.
“Onto the next,”
You guide him through how to cut potatoes, then carrots. After your demonstrations on the cutting board, Deku takes at least double the time you do to cut each thing. But you cheer him on each time, floating around him and never leaving him too long to his own devices. You show him how to cut everything, even garlic (which he likes because he just has to smash at it to get it small) and eventually all the veggies are chopped.
You don’t have him touch the chicken, say it’s probably too much for the first time - but you demonstrate it. He takes note of every step, hearing words he’s never heard in his entire life. You have to let the fond build, the veggies sweat, and all sorts of other things. He learns you normally don’t measure, so every measurement out of your mouth is more a guess than anything. You promise to write down a recipe for him, anyways.
It starts smelling good after you add the onions - like his mothers kitchen. He hasn’t had a proper homemade meal in a week and his stomach growls with intensity. He watches as you build a sauce out of thin air. A curry roux cube, 4 cups of water, some sugar, some soy-sauce and ketchup. It fascinated him.. seemingly random things all coming together and making something so familiar. It looks good. He feels good that he helped even a little.
It’s taken a while, maybe 2 hours and some change, though he’s sure if he did it alone - it’d be even longer. For you, it’s probably the longest it’s ever taken, but if that’s the case, it doesn’t show on your face.
In the last leg of the curry making, you direct him to wear all the cutlery in your little apartment.
“There’s some beer in the fridge too, if you want. Other stuff too, but I thought a drink would be good for relaxing,”
“A beer would be great. Do you want one too?”
“Hm.. yeah, actually. That’d be awesome,, thank you Midoriya,”
He waves of your thank you and goes off to rummage your kitchen. He knows how to set a table at least. He grabs the beers first, placing them on coasters, before going to get the rest. Two plates and two spoons, and a bowl to keep some sides in. He sets everything up all nice, clearing the space out.
He hears the stove click off, getting out of your way as you put on some oven mitts. You take a deep breath as you lift, the savory smell filling the small kitchen.
“Woo, it’s hot,” ― you huff, setting it down on a mat on the counter ― “It’s still burbling so I’ll give it a second before I serve it,”
Next, you bring the white rice that's been sitting on the counter since before he got here, on warm for who knows how long. You pick it up out of the rice cooker and set it next to the curry, hurrying to get another bowl. You portion out some pickled radishes in the smaller bowl. and then spoon rice into the bigger one. You put one portion on Dekus and one on yours.
“Don’t be shy about getting more,”
You pour it out evenly, a stream of hot curry surrounding pristine white rice. It looks and smells good, unexpectedly. He’s so surprised it’s not a disaster, he laughs as he watches you do it. Piece of chicken thigh, potatoes, and onions float in the sauce and he can barely stop himself from eating.
“It’s been so long since I’ve had something someone else made,”
“Aw c’mon, you made this!”
He gives you a look and you laugh as you spoon yourself a portion.
“Okay.. we made it. But you helped! And you learned a lot, right?”
He chuckles, shaking his head.
“I definitely learned a lot but you’re the teacher,” ― he leans forward, palm on his cheek as he stares at you. Straight out of a daydream, painfully handsome ― “How’d I do teach?”
You mimic him teasingly, legs crossed, tapping your foot in the air.
“Hm.. I’d give you a solid 8/10 for your first time. No cuts, and your chopping was actually pretty good,”
He brightens at the praise.
“Really? Good enough for electrolyte gel packs?”
You laugh so hard you bend over yourself.
“Yeah.. yeah definitely.”
“Nice job, Midoriya.”
“All thanks to my teacher, super wise.”
You bow your head a little and he claps for you.
Wordlessly, he cracks both of your bottles open with seamless strength, returning them to their spot on the table.
“It should be cool enough to eat now,”
He bows his head and so do you.
“Itadakimasu,”
“Itadakimasu,”
___
He feels warm.
After your meal in the afternoon, you and Deku continue to drink into the late night. He makes sure to watch himself - knowing he’ll have to drive himself home. You drink just a little more, not enough that you’re a mess. But your defences are lowered, and you’re sleepy. Maybe even a little giggly too. Beer bottle sit on the coffee table that separates the two of you
You sit adjacent to each other. He has his legs crossed, table pushed back so he can get all of him comfortably between the couch and table. You have your knees up, chin resting against one of them as your arms wrap around your legs. You’re all smiles, all warmth.
“I had fun today,” you muse, voice softer than a whisper. He glances at you, nodding.
“Me too,” ― he admits, voice barely above a whisper ― “It’s been a long time since I’ve spent time without someone.”
“Aw, what, your mom doesn’t count?”
He laughs a little.
“Just teasin’. Me too.”
“Really?”
“Mhm. It’s just work, then school, then work. All on a loop. I don’t get much time off.”
“...Is there a particular reason for it?”
“Tryna get to know me, Midoriya?” you tease. He chuckles.
“Caught red-handed.”
It makes your heart flutter. To hear him tell him to your face that he’s interested in you. You rub your feet together nervously.
“I don’t see a lot of my parents. I’ve always taken care of things on my own. It’s hard, but..” ― you confess to him voice, weary, and worn out ― “‘s not all bad. Stressful. It gets lonely, but I think it’ll be okay in the end”
“What about you, Pro-Hero Deku?,”
He laughs uncomfortably, a tight lipped smile on his mouth.
“What about me?”
“D’you get lonely a lot..?”
His gut reaction is almost violent, a spear through his chest. The blood is already in his mouth, the bitterness of heroism deep in his gut. He shakes his head at the panic and how it stirs inside of him.
“No.. I.. well -.”
“You must, right?” ― you let out a soft yawn, face so squished it’s hard to hear you talk. You struggle to get the words out ― “You’re the number one hero, All Might successor. Must be busy, right?”
“You should sleep soon,” ― his voice is strained.. it aches in his throat. He can’t tell you to stop, but he can’t bear to listen either so he gets ready to appease you ― “You’ve had a lot to drink,”
“I’m sober, Midoriya. Mostly, anyway. Just sleepy.. I’m just sayin.”
“I notice it in you sometimes,” ― you hum, lifting your head to look at him ― “You always hesitate to say things. But.. ‘sokay to admit things are hard. Life is hard for your average schmuck like me.”
He laughs a little.
“You’re not a schmuck.”
“Maybe not but I’m no hero, either. It’s hard for me and I bet it’s hard for you too. That’s okay, you know? You’re still.. still a person. And to me, you’re just Midoriya. A guy with a hard job. And cool scars.”
He stares down at the beer bottle he’s been nursing in his lap for god knows how long and feels something shift inside of him. It’s tectonic, the way his whole body shifts its weight. A steady build, like a geyser - everything coming to a head inside of him. It’s so heavy, this burden that makes his shoulders slump. He really doesn’t mean to get choked up like this. He’ll blame the alcohol but there’s more to it than that. Much more about why he’s splitting apart at the seams.
It must be that you are nothing like anyone he knows. And it breaks him, tears him apart like how people crack eggs - he feels soft and yellow like a yolk, any moment and he’ll break. He doesn’t know how it happens, but he cries. Quiet and steady at first but slowly he can’t keep holding it. It’s a crescendo, a cacophony of all of his misery. He cries then sobs. So loudly it’s almost violent. It cracks and thunders, and suddenly he’s an open wound on your living room floor. He finds himself sobbing so pathetically he doesn’t know what to do. The backs of his palms are rubbing his eyes and in between each choked breath, he’s trying to tell you he’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine.
But suddenly, your body is pressed around him. You’ve slotted yourself next to him on your knees and you pull his whole body onto you. The weight of his torso ends up in your arms. You hold him and you run your hands over your back and he cries and it’s so ugly. It’s ugly and loud.
He’s so raw from emotions and all he can hear is you and your voice, shushing him quietly. He clings to you for life. It’s so unusual for him.. to cry like this. Over something like this. Maybe because it’s the first time in four years he’s admitted to himself something so small.
It’s so hard. God.. it’s all so hard.
He sobs into your neck, uncontrollable and you don’t say a word. You melt your body into his.
Before he knows it, your body is shaking too. You’re crying and clinging to each other and everything in the world is blind with your tears. You hold each other desperately, your loneliness stuck together like it can’t be pulled apart.
On the floor of your living room, the rain outside pours in heavy sheets. And Izuku Midoriya cries into your shoulder, tipsy and tender from the force of your words. His stomach is tied and eventually he can’t help but cling to you. He wants to hold you in his arms but he doesn’t know how to ask. How does he approach you? Why can't he take the hand you’ve put out for him?
“Midoriya,” ― you whisper hoarsely, stroking his hair ― “You can trust me.”
He sobs a little harder at that. You almost don’t hear him at first, the way his voice falls apart as you listen to it.
“I’m sorry for crying.”
You can’t help but laugh. You keep holding him, just a little tighter.
“It’s okay,” you hum “It’s gonna be okay,”
He believes you when you say it. He believes you when you hold him. He believes you when you say he can trust you, and with every part of him - he wants to love you. He wants to give it all back tenfold. This selfish feeling that festers in the cracks of his heart, this yearning - he doesn’t have any choice but to call it love.
If he were more sober, and less tired - he’d probably be losing his mind at the thought. To call something love, to call this love. It makes him feel like he’s losing his mind but right now all he can focus on is you and the way your heart rests. He’s thinking of your hands and how gentle they feel on his skin and how he’s holding you. How relieving it is to hold someone.
“It’s hard sometimes,” ― he confesses, all jagged edges ― “I don’t regret it.. not ever. But it’s hard sometimes.”
You run your fingers through his curls just a little, soft and gentle.
“Yeah.. I bet it is.”
___
Izuku Midoriya believes firmly in one thing.
He believes love, above all else, must be a choice.
At the very least, you must have some choice in love. If you intend to love someone, or love anything for a long time - you have to choose it everytime. He thinks loving people is like that. A series of decisions we make in order to show or prove it. We choose love. It finds us and then we get to choose how we harbor it. He thinks he’s something of a hopeless idealist, in every aspect of his life. About everything in the world, he wants to do it in the most poetic way. He wants his whole life to be shrouded in the feeling that he’s doing something beautiful.
He could call justice something of a first love. In that way he does everything for it. That he chooses to fight for it, to contribute to it everyday he’s alive.
He thinks love itself is a choice but he thinks falling in love is the only decision in your life you have no control over. He thinks loving you, in particular, is something that happened to him rather than something he looked for. Falling for you the first time he saw you, he had no part in it.
But hopelessly and endlessly searching for you - just maybe that had something to do with him.
After the night in your apartment, you make him comfortable and send him home with some curry and warm regards. Of all the nights he’d gone home feeling lonely, that night had been the hardest. There was this desire out of his control that he’d been ignoring for so long but it all came to a tide that night. The longing was borderline unbearable and since then, he’s had to take a long hard look at himself and at this.. all of this.
Izuku Midoriya can admit to himself after all of this that he’s a little helplessly in love with you. He hasn’t stopped seeing you, either. On Sundays, every other Sunday, he drops by your place for little cooking lessons. He misses when he was ignoring it and he could just enjoy your company but now your every movement has something feeling hot under his skin. He finds himself daydreaming about you on the job and his heart feels like it’s gonna burst out of his chest.
But, this is the first time he’s ever been..in love. It’s the first time he’s ever felt something so strongly and it’s more terrifying than it is romantic. He feels like he’s been blindsided by something and he stays up into the late hours of the night, counting off all the reasons it won’t work out.
It’s what he’s best at, thinking of every possible outcome. You could always find someone who could be with you more and move on, and maybe you’re not even interested in Deku. It’s always possible you just think you are. He thinks a lot of things are possible and he focuses on the worst case scenario each time. It’s easier not to set up expectations that way. If anything happens, he’ll be ready for it.
But with you, the worst case scenario is that he confesses and you reject him - and you disappear out of his life. He knows rationally that it’s unlikely, but he thinks about it and something in him breaks profoundly. There’s another situation where you remain friends but you fall for someone else and it makes him almost sick.
All of it is gut-wrenching. For so long, he’s had any number of defenses up. A busy schedule, the burden of work, short answers and the redirection of those prying questions - he’s gotten so good at making sure no one gets past them. It’s rare that anyone has even noticed. His heart is so many layers deep. Only a few people know, namely Kacchan and his mom and All Might.
And then there’s you, with soft hands, tearing through all the ground and rooting him up from Earth. You who digs his heart from the ground and holds it up to the warmth of your love.
It burns so hot he feels like he can’t get close to it. When he thinks of you, he thinks of all of his short-comings. He thinks of all the things he can’t be for you.
But he can’t get himself to let go either, and when your hands reach into his ribs and take his heart, he doesn’t shake you off to stop it. He lets it happen, lets you consume his every breath. All over his body are the sensations of you and your touches - ghostly in his memory.
Izuku Midoriya thinks love is a choice and he knows he can’t take back the one to love you.
He just.. doesn’t know what to do with all of it.
___
The day is so long it bleeds.
That’s the best way he knows how to describe it, really. It’s longer than ever because daylights all soaked up before 8pm, and it’s so dark it webs across the city without patience. After a day like today, it’s all he can see for miles. Darkness for miles and miles - the path of it sunken and terrible.
He’s had a lot of days like this in his life, as a hero - there are always lives you can’t save. People who don’t make it out of the disaster, people you miss, people who get trapped. Dekus sees things so gruesome it makes his skin crawl, seeping into him while he’s awake. He has nightmares and he takes medication to manage all of it. Goes to therapy when he can. No amount of conversation could really make it go away but it’s nice to tell someone his feelings.
Deku still doesn’t know how to deal with something so inevitable such as loss. As a hero it’s never easy.
After months of stagnation in the villain case, the one that he had to solve with Kacchan, there was finally word of activity. Normally in situations like that - groups will simply disband or dissolve because of the lack of members and it goes cold before anything else can happen. It’s rare that anything ever comes out of it later, it just sort of disappears after the first big arrest.
He figures that would be the case today too. After getting on his shift, about an hour into it, he gets pings from every direction. A villain attacks on the east side, only a few blocks from his route. It’s an emergency, CODE E - meaning it was a big mass of destruction and that other heroes were on the way.
He was on it before he could think twice, feet moving faster than his head as he activates a steady 8% for speed, jumping over buildings and skipping traffic until he ends up on the overhead of the scene. From the view above he can practically taste the chaos. It’s a big build-up of cop-cars around the scene. There’s people everywhere, first responders, evacuating all nearby residents. There’s already been some explosions and destruction but no serious injuries.
When he finally gets down, he meets with the police chief, Kacchan, and Todoroki - all of them breaking down the situation carefully to him. He comes to learn that the leader of the organization is holed up in one of those buildings and that he’s hysterical.
Human beings are incredibly fragile. They crack and shatter and splinter like glass under the pressure of life. Every person in the world is capable of bad things. The unimaginable becomes possible when you remember how briefly we bask in goodness. It’s not that humanity is evil but it’s fragile.
He learns about the boy inside - he’s young, just 18. He’s a highschool student. He learns about his whole life, abusive family and suffering. His list of traumas make his gut wrench just to listen too and Kacchan has that solemn look in his eyes that he only gets when he knows things will end badly. He details to Deku all of his miseries and Deku listens like his heart is made of lead.
“So where are we?”
Kacchan tells Deku that he’s inconsolable and his name is Yamato and doesn’t say a word more. Deku gives him that pleading look that he always has when it gets to be like this, but Todoroki is quick to put a hand on his shoulder and shake his head. It’s not in them to give up on anyone, hero or villain - so it makes his stomach clench.
Deku gets told to help the other heroes clear the area out and take care of civilians and with that he’s sent away. It tears him apart, the knowing and the dread. The dread of it all is so, so heavy.
At 7pm, the sun is set completely, and he gets word that he’s dead. It’s over, just like that. In a moment another person - gone , and his name was Yamato and he was 18. Just like that. Human life is so fragile. We only live briefly and we do it so delicately it’s impossible to know the outcome. Deku thinks of all the things he could’ve been and he finds himself on a bench in front of his agency, crying his eyes out for a kid he doesn’t know.
Loss is always a part of the job. There will always be someone, something that you can’t change. He knows it’s important to remember the good things but today, the world is dark at 7pm and Deku is wiping his tears with the back of his gloved hands. He’s sad about all of it. He’s sad he couldn’t change anything. The helpless feeling about this job and the loneliness. It will never be enough no matter how much he fights. There will always be a life he can’t save.
He’s told to go home that day, a little earlier than normal. It’s ironic, on a day he knows you don’t have work. After everything happens, he takes their advice and goes back to his agency. All he hears when he’s there is condolences. They know how it is.. how he is on days like today.
The day is so long it bleeds. When darkness hits, it still feels like time is stuck in the same place. It dries and scabs and itches.
He’s planning on going home today and resting. The most you know is that he has a day off, he got sent home earlier because of a case but he hasn’t told you the details.
He gets a text from you not long after he tells you.
from 7/11 girl ; oh! do you wanna come over for dinner then?
He stares at the message for a long while. It’s a moment in which his body moves before he can think
to 7/11 girl ; i’d love too.
__
He ends up at your doorstep with all of his belongings still in his arms.
Shifting his weight uncomfortably from one leg to the other, a shaky breath enters his lungs. His heart rate is rapid and the feeling of regret is tying his hands to his sides, finding it impossible to reach his hand up and knock. His head is going a million miles an hour, racing with the thoughts of remorse. Reprimanding himself for being selfish, trying to see you in this state. He should just go home and call it a night, there’s still time for that.
Another text pings his phone, startling him out of his thoughts.
from 7/11 girl ; i’m glad you’re coming over. i was getting a little lonely today.
He takes a deep breath, just trying to gather himself, and raises his trembling hand to knock on the door. He winces at the meekness of the sound, unconfident. Each second that passes by is another of him contemplating leaving. He could leave it all here, he could leave, he could leave, he could leave.
The door swings open, and there you are in a big comfortable hoodie and shorts that hit your knee and mismatched socks. Deku stares at you with wide emerald eyes and you look back at him, smiling with your teeth.
He can’t leave.
Your eyes widen at the sight of him. He trembles like a telephone wire in a storm, uncentered and shaking desperately. You catch it, that despair in his eyes before he can blink it away and it has you stopping dead in your tracks. All of his things are still in his arms and he’s covered in grime. His hand quivers as it clutches his bags to his body. He racks his eyes over you, no words coming. Just a gaping mouth, gasping like a fish out of water, struggling to speak,
“Midoriya,” ― you press forward, brows furrowed together ― “Are you okay?”
Is he okay? No, not particularly. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again and he stares at you for a long while. Slowly at the seams is where it always starts, falling into nothingness.
Love is an abyss, he thinks to himself. That must be where the phrase falling in love comes from. He is on the cliff as he looks at you, rock crumbling and breaking beneath his feet the longer he stands in your doorway. The uncertainty that comes from that darkness, looming and inviting. It calls to him with the voice loud enough to sweep nations to dust. He sees you, and you look like a clump of stars - burning hotly in the stark obsidian night. You are the silver lining, the muse, the answer. To Izuku Midoriya, you are everything and some change. You’re the girl he meets at 7/11, the one who puts muscle patches on his back, and teaches him to cook and makes him feel like he exists. So alive it almost makes him sick. He is nauseous at the way love has him acting.
There is a brief moment before you jump into open waters, or darkness, or anything that requires you to fall with no promise of land - that your head is completely clear. Only after you’ve leaped, the action set in motion, do you know what the right choice was.
Deku understands it briefly, the cost of his actions. The consequence of choosing love, taking it - the hand held out. He understands, for just one moment, that love is one step in the door. That love is right there but he has to reach for it, to feel it. He won’t know unless he jumps.
“Midoriya..?”
He reaches for you. He steps one foot in the door and drops his bags to the side of him and he shuts the door and he reaches for love.. for you. Just this one time.
His arms wrap around your shoulders like vines and he clings to you for dear life. His face is buried in the nape of your neck and his body feels like it’s submerging in the darkness. He feels like he’s falling, so far he can’t see what was before this. He holds you tight and your hands snake around his waist.
“Midoriya,”
“Izuku” he corrects hoarsely.
“Izuku..”
__
You decide that the first thing he should do is bathe.
“You can take a shower in my..”
His eyes are round and worrisome. Gruesomely exhausted. You don’t think you could tell him to be in there alone in good conscience - no matter how willingly he would accept. He hasn’t stopped touching you in some way, something silently inside of him aching to hold you. You can feel all the places he holds back, a violent force. With Midoriya.. with Izuku - you find sometimes you have to force yourself inside of his boundaries.
He’s holding your hand and staring at it, dark rounds underneath his lower lash line. You reach your hand out a little further as he sits, and press your palm against his cheek. Your thumb brushes underneath his eyes and he smiles a little.
“We can take a bath together,”
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,”
“You won’t,”
It takes a little convincing and you worry he’s too tender for it but he just nods and closes his eyes. Leaning into your touch, he moves his mouth to kiss your wrist and then looks at you as you flush. Still uncomfortable with this touch - the intimacy of his hold has your breath shaking in your lungs.
“C’mon with your clothes. My bathroom is pretty big so you should fit in it just fine but it might be a bit tight,”
He nods, absent and soft. You watch as he takes his things from his bag and stands - eyes immediately searching for you like a small animal. He takes your hands in his but nudges you to guide him and gives you a soft smile as you flush. Just moments ago he was clinging to you but it feels different somehow.
You lead him to your bathroom and it’s a nice size. It’s a little bit wider, with a small closet and a tub that he thinks you could both fit in. There’s a big, wide mirror on the wall and on the counter there’s skincare and makeup. He smiles at it, only frowning when you let go of his hand. He watches as you run the bathwater hot and go into your closet for towels and soaps of all kinds. He stands awkwardly, his own nerves just starting to catch up to him. It’s mostly overshadowed with desire.. with yearning that stretches across the sun at least 3 times.
You’re still turned around as you speak.
“You should.. uhm.. undress,” you say, stiff as a board. His eyes go wide and he flushes a bit.
“Oh! Uhm.. yeah, right,” ― he coughs, heart in his throat ― “Are you…?”
You nod, meek.
“Yeah..”
He can’t mask his shock, nor the immediate twitch in his jeans that he spends a few minutes managing before carefully undressing. His shirt first comes off, slides over his shoulder blades and comes completely off.
After that, it’s his pants and socks, until he’s left with nothing but boxers hanging on his hips. He hesitates a little to take them off, so he does it with a deep breath. He’s self-conscious of it, his physique so bare. He doesn’t remember the last time anyones seen him completely naked and it makes his heart stammer uncomfortably.
You turn to him, shyly grazing over at him before closing your own eyes and taking your clothes off. Deku watches you with a bated breath, mouth catch flies as you slide your hoodie off to reveal nothing underneath - same as your basketball shorts. They simply fall to the floor and you’re naked. Your whole body is under his eyes with scrutiny and you find yourself covering your body with your hands almost inadvertently.
It comes out as a clumsy and confused gasp - with more vigor than he means.
“You’re beautiful,” and you can tell he means it with the way he blinks and just looks, over again. You flush a little, wanting the Earth to swallow you up. But he’s so.. gentle. So easy.
“...You should get in the water,” ― you tell him, reaching for something ― “I picked a bathbomb out so..”
He stops, lips turned in the corner before nodding. The water is hot and full and Deku steps inside of it, bending down and securing himself to the wall with the showerhead and faucet. The water relaxes the tenseness out of his muscles almost immediately, eyes going heavy. He looks at you, and watches you prepare yourself. You drop your hands and steel your nerves, softly walking towards him.
“D’you want me to sit on the other side…?”
He shakes his head, feeling hesitant.
“No uhm.. if it’s okay. I thought you could sit.. y’know. So I can.. hold you,” he explains sheepishly. You nod.
“That’s okay. I’d.. I think I’d like that,”
So you do. He widens the space between his legs as much as possible and lets you step inside the warm water. It sloshes around the tub, just a little as you adjust but eventually, you end up right between his legs bare naked. He has to shake any inappropriate thoughts away, especially with you so close in his reach. He watches idly as you reach over the side of the tub for a bath caddy you placed on the floor, just before getting in. You take the bath bomb from the middle compartment, and drag it to the water.
You hold it as it fizzes, still a big gap between you and him. He stares at you for a while. It’s tense, steamy air clouding your air and inhibitions.
“You can come closer,” he assures you, voice barely there. You freeze, looking over at him from one of your shoulders and you nod. Your lips are tucked between your teeth but you scoot back and you can feel.. him a little more. More than anything, you can feel the way his arms lock around your middle. Your back is on his chest, his arms circled tight around your waist. He tucks his chin over one of your shoulders and leans you back into him - just enough. Just so it’s comfortable and close.
It’s more intimate than everything you’ve ever felt in your life. The touch of his naked body, scarred skin - your hands are still holding the bath bomb. He presses his cheek to your shoulder as he watches. He’s amused by how the colors turn indefinitely. It smells a little bit like vanilla, a soft sugary scent permeating through the water. It’s green. He wonders if that was on purpose.
The weight of you rests in the crooks of him. You reside in this space in his arms, intimately. Your skin is soft to the touch and the water is warm - with two bodies it never gets too cold. For a while, all he does is hold you. He holds you indiscriminately, nothing extra to his actions. Not lust nor tragedy but just something pure and basic, the need to feel love through someone else's hands. Skin to skin, soft and gentle. It’s quiet and wordless.
With your body resting on his, you lift your head to look up at him briefly. You watch him with interest.
“What happened today, Izuku?”
He lets out a deep sigh, his voice scratchy and worn.
“On the job today.. one of the villains. Uhm.. he was really young. No one could talk him out of it no matter what he tried,” ― he tells you wearily ― “He.. didn’t make it. It just happened and then everything just kept happening. Loss and stuff like that is normal for hero work, but I can never.. get used to it.”
“...That’s good, that you can’t” you reply. He looks confused.
“That’s good..?”
“It means you have your humanity still intact inside of you. If you still get sad over people, no matter how mundane, then it means you still haven’t been.. desensitized from all of it. Means that you still care,” you explain to him gently “It was hard wasn’it?”
His voice trembles as he holds you closer, so impossibly close to him. The world is dark but you are like sunlight, brilliant. He mumbles something under his breath, rubbing his face into your skin like a cat might. You find it endearing.
“Yeah it was.. It was hard,” ― his voice is a breeze, feathery ― “It was a really hard day today and I was just gonna… I was gonna go home and then you texted me.”
You smile a little at that. It goes quiet again.
“Can I.. tell you something?”
“Yeah.. what is it?”
He shifts, and his voice becomes slow - it’s like the moment right before a fan's blades swirl. That moment where everything feels like it’s being set in motion, the drag of it. The inertia that builds - this is the very start of something so beautiful it spins.
“I love you,” ― he whispers, right into your shoulder blade with the weight of a million lives - and his too, right in the crook of your neck ― “I love you..”
The weight of the world, of heroism, or selfless acts and martyrdom - all of it falls onto the water below. He’s so tired, worn out. You think this is his way of asking you, if it’s alright to share this part of myself.
I’ve cut myself into so many parts, can you take this one? he says, without words but with hands Will you take the heart I’ve kept locked away and hold it? Will you take the only part of me that is still whole?
You find something deep inside of you. It’s unruliness. Everything in the world that is ugly has stopped, falling in front of your feet and the loneliness that itches inside of you suddenly melts. Like a popsicle in the summer sun, it fades away into pure sugar, sticky. What is love but hands that hold?
“I love you too, Izuku,”
His eyes shut and he breathes a breath, shaky and unsure. He squeezes you as if you might disappear, closer and closer.
“Can I ask.. is it okay if I ask why?”
“Why I love you?”
“What you see in me.. I just… I want to be sure,” ― he laughs a little soft, insecure ― “I guess it’s hard for me to understand it all the way. I only know all of this from my side.”
You wrap your hands, small over his. You hold and stretch it out, staring at his scarred palms under the sea green water. You sigh, and collapse a little as if you’re letting something out.
“I’ve always liked you,” ― you explain absently, squeezing his fingers and leaning into his touch, eyes closed ― “You’re awkward and sometimes shy, but you’re charming. You’re kind. It’s always been easy to like you.”
You take a deep breath, and your eyes open as you lean your head back, you look up at him and he looks like sunlight. A home in a person.
“But, then you would ask about me. You would worry for me and remember me. You listened to everything I had to say, even when you were somewhere busy and far away. I wondered if maybe you treated everyone like that,” you admit to him. He shakes his head and you laugh, reaching your hand back to hold his cheek.
“I didn’t know if I was special to you or if maybe.. I don’t know. Maybe you were like this to everyone, but you always made an effort for me - it made me feel special. When you tell me to do things and carve your time out for me,” ― you close your eyes again and they rest just against your cheek ― “The more I got to know you, the more I realized that you went out of your way for me. I like you, as is, but I liked feeling special to you. I wanted to be closer to you. I wanted to be the one who knows you best like how you know me”
“What about you, Izuku?” you ask, gently “What was it about me?”
He hums a little, shyly and awkwardly.
“It felt like you saw right through me, instead of looking at me. It was scary, but you just.. you make it so easy. It makes me feel selfish to pull anyone into my life, but the more I saw you, the more I didn’t feel like myself. It was scary.. and I didn’t understand,” ― he said with a laugh, eyes pressed completely shut ― “You were the first person… the first thing I’ve wanted so badly. It almost hurt,”
He realizes what he said and his eyes go wide and yours go wide too.
“You.. wanted me?”
The air becomes thick. Warm water suddenly feels hot and something feels awake inside of him the way you look up at him and he looks down at you. It makes him feel dizzy.
“I want you.. still. Want you, always,” with the double meaning sitting heavy on the end.
You flush, look away and stiffen.
“You weren’t uhm.. y’know.. down there. Didn’t think you were.. attracted to me,”
“I’ve been holding back. Didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable,” he strains, deep in his throat.
“You won’t,” you assure, shaky.
“Are you sure? We don’t have too… and I mean! I’ve never really - I don’t have much experience so I don’t wanna.. disappoint,”
“Izuku,”
He squeaks.
“Y-yes,”
Your lashes look heavy when you blink, lips tugged in your teeth.
“I’ve wanted you too.”
His eyes grow the size of the moon and you laugh, just a little.
“Y-you have?!”
Wordlessly, you take your hand, the one around your waist, and guide it so gently between your thighs. He feels frozen behind you as you maneuver his hand to be touching just against your sex. It’s burning, sticky on his fingers. He lets out gasp, soft under his breath as you guide him to touch you shivering. All the blood in his head rushes straight to his dick, and it grows so stiff it almost aches.
“Holy shit” he gasps and then groans, a little guttural “Holy.. holy shit,”
“Are you.. shit - I don’t have any. I don’t have much e-experience with this stuff,”
You hum at the way his hands keep moving anyways, still rubbing softly against your folds.
“S’okay. I’m a good teacher right?,” ― you say through a breathy sigh ― “You’re a quick learner, too,”
“Haah, holy shit. I really might die.”
You laugh at this fully, smiling at him.
“I want you really bad,” you say with a squirm “I’m on the pill, too.”
His eyes go wide and you laugh again, a little - feeling mischievous. Enjoying the effect you have on him, as he looks at you with eyes wide. Blown out with lust.
“Don’t regret it, okay?”
“I won’t. Not if it’s you.”
He takes a deep breath like he’s trying to wrap his head around all of it. It makes you laugh a little.
“We should get out of the bath first,” you say amused.
Before you can think about it, Deku is standing up. You scoot away, planning on doing the same. But after he stands up, he grabs a towel and immediately lifts you. He carries you on one arm like you weigh less than a paperclip and you yelp as he draws you to his chest.
“I-Izuku, let me down, I’m -,”
This time he laughs at you, almost knowing what you’re gonna say.
“Sorry, I’ll warn you next time but if you think you’re heavy, you’re sorely mistaken” ― he tells you with amusement ― “I did curls with double your weight by the time I was a first year.”
You squeak, feeling incredibly shy as you cling to him.
“My bedroom is on the left.. don’t drop me.”
He laughs at you again, a little more teasing.
“I won’t baby.”
__
He carries you all the way to your bedroom, where you find yourself more grateful than ever that you cleaned before he came. He drops you onto his bed with a soft thud, towel underneath you as your back lands on it. It’s different like this, the lighting a little dimmer but with him still so perfectly in view. Your eyes go wide at the sight of him as you scoot yourself towards the headboard.
He follows you in hot pursuit, body hovering over yours. Your head hits the pillow and Deku is right above you, with his hands on either side of your head. You smile at him and he looks down at you with big eyes.
“You’re so handsome.”
“I’m already hard.”
This makes you laugh and makes him grin, and you reach your arms out. Wrapping them around his neck - you drag him down to you. His mouth ghosts over yours, full and pretty. This is the first time you’ve really looked at him and god - he’s gorgeous to look at. His mouth is full and his eyes are so round - full of this pretty dark green that turns just seafoam in the middle. You feel like you’re going to drown inside of them, already yearning.
“You’re pretty,” he groans, and looks up at you through thick lashes “So pretty, think it every time I look at you.”
“Izuku, kiss me,” ― you demand.
He chuckles against your mouth, soft.
“Your wish is my command.”
He presses his mouth to yours, feather light at first. It’s been so long since you’ve kissed someone, you can’t help but feel it. Something about his lips makes you feel weak, the heat is of his body melting together with yours. It starts with one, soft and gentle - but it goes quickly to another one. Slowly he pulls away and then kisses you again, makes you open your mouth a little wider as he presses a little further. You can’t wrap your brain around how it’s making you feel. Your whole body feels like it’s sinking into your mattress, his mouth soft and full. His tongue invites itself inside, sliding against yours with the embers of flame.
What starts as kisses turn into hot pants, deep into his mouth. You can feel saliva run down your cheek as desire burns through, molten in your core. Your clit throbs with want, and you feel Deku before you see him. It makes you gasp - how big it feels, heavy too, against the meat of your thigh. You grind against it without meaning too. Deku moans in your mouth right as it happens
It feels like you're breathing each other's air - months and months of lust, pure and unadulterated, slipping out from beneath you. It’s overwhelming to be touching him, finally. Your fingers thread through his hairs and you tug, another pretty sound coming from him. . He’s so vocal with you, every moan or breath like fuel to the fire.
His hands find you soon after, exploratory - they start at your side, slowly moving up to cup your tits. His hands are firm, albeit shaky - and he touches them like he couldn’t wait a moment longer to get his hands on you. They’re so big. He dwarfs you right on top like this, and you fit perfectly in his cupped hands. His groping incessant, just like his kissing - invasive. You can feel how he can’t seem to get enough, each motion heavy with the want of many months prior.
Everything about how he touches you sends your whole body leaping, you feel weightless - the way your heart raises. It ends up all the way in your throat, in your mouth. It’s a stuttering and blind desire, all white. All you can think about is how much it aches. How much you want him, wanting and wanting and wanting.
“Izuku,” ― it comes out as a gasp when you pull away, a string of saliva as evidence when you reel back and look at him, his lidded eyes gazing down at you ― “Izuku..”
“What is it, baby? You okay?”
You squirm at the sound of his voice, gone deep like he’s been holding back all this time. It’s denser, coming from his stomach instead of his chest.
You kiss him again, and then pull back, brushing your nose to his.
“I like when you call me baby.”
“My baby,” ― he adds, kissing your nose, then the corners of your mouth ― “You’re so pretty. Don’t know anyone who looks as pretty as you.”
“Stop, I can’t fall for you anymore than I have.”
He giggles at that, kissing you again, and again and again until you’re laughing. A mess in his arms, he presses kisses all over your face.
“Just trying to make sure it stays that way.”
You frown a little.
“What happened to you being nervous?”
“I’m still nervous,” he insists, squeezing your tits in his hands with a breath, thumb brushing over your nipples. You gasp a little, shaking, as he gives you a troublesome grin - he’s bad for your heart “But I just.. I want you so bad. I’ve been thinking about you for months.”
“Months?”
“Maybe longer.”
“What were you thinking about…?”
His eyes go wide, mind racing with detailed fantasies that he gave into so long ago. He swallows a lump in his throat.
“Thought you would taste.. wanted to uhm - put my mouth on you. Still want too,”
“And..?”
He groans, burying his face in your neck. You laugh, granting him a little mercy
“Fucked myself wishing’ it was you,” you tell him, whispering like a secret.
He snaps his head up immediately, just to stare as if he were worried you were bluffing. You look at him sheepishly and he groans. Everything about you makes him feel drunk, unkempt. His hands are back on your skin and he presses an opened mouth kiss to your jaw, down your neck. He’s thankful for all the perving he’s done in his life, at this moment. The way your throat bobs and you sigh as his tongue slides over the sharp edge. He trails them, stamping them across your skin and all the way to your neck.
You feel his teeth, flat but sharp, as he sucks the flesh into his mouth. A gasp rises out of you.
“Oh,” you whimper, hands around his shoulders, trying to steady yourself as he sucks marks into your neck. “Izuku,”
“Wanna take my time tonight,” ― he sounds like he’s pleading with you, an edge to his voice as fingers draw circles in your waist ― “Wanna make you feel so good,”
“Can I…? Please..?”
You blink at him and then nod, watching as his lips turn into a soft grin. He slides his hands over every inch of your body, placing his lips at your neck first and trailing kisses all over it - over the marks he’s already left, the base of his throat. His tongue is summer along the new bruises, a trail of hot saliva sticking to your skin as he goes lower and lower. His mouth feels like a bunch of tiny pricks, how deeply the craving sets in. Kisses against your collar bones, down your chest, until his mouth ends up at your tits.
He bites and licks with care and precision - careful not to be too hard but not soft either. His hunger for you seems almost insatiable, and he’s learning with practicality. Every pleasant sound from your lips garners him trying it again, going a little harder like he wants to pull it right from your throat. His free hand squeezes the soft flesh and his mouth sucks on your nipples, pebbled and hard under your tongue. You feel impossibly wet, boneless in your bed at the way he pays so much attention to you. All need, all lust.
There’s a vulgarity to it, how he licks and then bites soft, tugs until you cry out with your head thrown back. He learns where to touch you once and runs it to the ground. It feels like time is moving at a snail pace as he disarms your hesitance. Even when it feels clumsy, it never stays that way for long. You can’t keep up with how often you're moaning his name. Over and over like an incantation. Izuku, Izuku, Izuku - god how you want him.
You want to beg him to touch you but all he does is unravel you, for so long you almost feel teary. He wants to make you feel good, massages your whole body with his mouth - hot as sin. You feel like a falling star falling into the atmosphere and burning up. What feels like millenia of being torn apart is only minutes. Down to the devilish detail, he learns how to make you feel so good with nothing but your tits and his mouth.
“Izuku, please,”
His voice is soft against your skin and the view is nothing but call for misdeed, eyes lidded and mouth swollen from where he runs it over your skin. The room has to be at least a few hundred degrees - sweating and clenched.
“Can’t get enougha’ you,” ― he whispers against your stomach, cheek pressed to it ― “I wanna make you feel good.. wanna see you touch yourself,”
Your eyes grow wide as you look at him, and he gives you a soft smile.
“You’re a good teacher,” ― he teases, a devilish laugh attached ― “I’m asking as your favorite student.. show me how.”
“You’re really too much,”
But you oblige, and Deku knows by how you shift. He scoots back until the view is perfect, spreading your legs wider. He kisses up your thighs as your hand shifts, soft and nervous between your legs. He’s so close - you can feel his breath on you. It makes your spine tingle.
“Don’t be shy.. you’re beautiful.”
You want to tell him that that only makes you more shy but he’s got his eyes glued onto you, anticipatory, and you can’t believe yourself but god it makes you wet. How he stares, how he longs for it.
You go slow, shifting your fingers to be at the right angle. You know yourself well, so many nights alone in your bedroom, thinking of him. The visual of him wide-eyed and slick mouthed, makes it easy to do again. You put the pressure slowly, just to fingers so he can see - and relieve yourself. Touch yourself in front of his very eyes, slowly forgetting the humiliation. You’re not sure how long he wants you to go, but it feels so good to get the pressure off. Your toes curl and Deku speaks under his breath.
“So pretty.. all of you,” ― his hands are at your navel, spreading you further ― “I love looking at you.”
You feel like you could cum from nothing at all. The pleasure for now is a frazzle crescendo. It’s not enough - like even if you came from it, you would still be chasing after another one. You need more, so much more - need him. You keep asking for him, after each little pant you call for him. He murmurs, voice soft as sand, almost breaking apart after each word.
“‘zuku, Izuku,”
“I’m here, I’m here baby.”
Again and again, making your orgasm stir. The knot inside of you slowly comes undone, piece by piece, but it’s not what you want. It frustrates you, annoyance welling up inside of you until you can’t take it anymore. Your brows are furrowed and it almost feels itchy. All it is is need, an insufferable amount of need.
“N-need you so bad,” ― you manage, words caught like they’re stuck in your chest ― “Please, please.. touch me,”
“Okay.. shh, shh - it’s okay.”
He moves your hands by your wrist, mouth curling around your fingers. He shivers, eyes curious and eager. You look at him hazy, drunk off of a sense of lust you can’t shake.
He takes a few more kisses up your skin, down your navel, then with one hot stroke - runs his tongue against your entire sex before resting right at your clit. Your eyes go wide with a gasp. The reaction from you is immediate, hands going to tangle themselves in the mess of green hairs. His sturdy hands are quick to clasp your thighs. They go underneath your thighs, dragging you towards him with an inexplicable strength. His face is practically buried in it, bumping his nose against your clit until he settled himself. He brushes your pubes back a little with a hum.
“Aaah, fuck - hnggh,”
The noise is so obscene, scorching hot tongue sliding against your folds. It’s so fucking overwhelming, all-consuming - what you’ve wanted for so long. He shifts around and watches for your reaction each time he tries something new. Flattens the muscle against the throbbing little bundle of nerves, pointing it and flicking. He watches and waits until he finds a good pace - learning as he goes. It doesn’t feel as clumsy as it should. As you wish it would. It just feels pleasurable, too much and not enough.
He sucks your clit between his lips until it’s on his tongue, and flattens against it at a maddening pace. The kind of natural ability he has makes your toes curl, mind lost to something. A far out, funny feeling holds you down to the sheets as his arms tight around the back of your thighs. He’s so deep, tongue buried in your cunt and it’s filthy. Shamelessly loud as he licks and licks and licks like it’s his only reason to be alive. His hands feel around till they find yours and he locks fingers as he does it, and everything in the room is spinning.
“Ooh, I-Izuku,”
He hums against your clit and looks up at you through his lashes, and you feel your whole body go slack from the visuals. All you can think to yourself is that you want to cum, over and over, you want to cum. You want to cum all over his face, down his chin. You wanna be all over his everything
“I’m gonna..! I’m gonna c-cum, I’m gonna cum, Izuku.”
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t stutter, doesn’t slow - like he knows if he shifts even a little, he’ll lose his chance. You can hardly think, mind completely blank as you reach your peak - the climax. You can feel it. It’s so unbearably there that every word out of your mouth becomes mish-mash and gibberish.
“Ohmyg’d, oh, oh please.”
Your whole body locks up and you cum - you cum so hard you can barely breath. A gasp gets webbed inside of your lungs and all you can do is spasm unbearably. You grind your clit into his tongue, your orgasm making everything inside of you tremble. Your walls clench harshly around nothing at all and he still hasn’t moved or slowed. You try to move, overstimulated but he doesn’t budge - he just changes the pace and angle.
It doesn’t settle you much, the syrupy lustful feeling, only stronger with the passing seconds. Deku groans as he breaks to lap up as much of your cum as he possibly can. You can feel his saliva dribbling down your sex. He lets go of your hands only so he can spread your thighs as wide as they can go - looking at your swollen clit with almost affection. He stares at it for a few minutes, another hand resting on your navel as his thumb brushes over it. You shake as he touches it.
“You take it so good.. good girl,” ― he praises naturally, easily ― “Such a good girl. Wanna make you give you one more.. before I fuck you.”
Your voice is so rough by now, you cough a little as you look at him.
“W-what about you? W..wanna touch you too.”
He smiles, a soft and pretty smile - it makes you dizzy to even look at. Everything about him makes you so damn dizzy. You give into him unintentionally when he grins, kissing the hood of your clit.
“Some other time, maybe,” ― he announces to you softly, sweetly ― “Just wanna take care of you today.”
You nod for him, absently and without another warning - he tongues your clit again. This time wraps around, sucking on it soft but not doing much else. You question him, briefly, until you feel his fingers.
Izuku’s hands have always been of interest. They’re big, thick, and strong. Everything is sturdy but his hands especially make you desperate. All scar tissue, gnarled from years of use, and so bulky. You’ve always found them attractive - many daydreams surrounding them. You can almost feel the ridges of them even in your fantasy but now he’s right in front of you. His middle finger is so much thicker than yours. Clean and pretty hands, he presses to your hole. You’re so soft inside, it makes his chest tight. He can’t imagine he’ll be able to fuck you long if you feel like this.
“You’re soaking wet, huh?” ― he laughs a little, smiling ― “Cute.”
You don’t have it in you to get upset with him. With the way his finger slowly slips inside of you and prods around, all you can do is whimper a little. You feel strange, pliable in a way you’ve never been in your life. Terribly vulnerable.
“F-feels different,”
“Different?”
You cover your face with your hands, shivering.
“Your hands are so much bigger than mine.. so it feels.. yknow,”
“Does it feel good, baby?”
There it is again, baby. You clench unintentionally, and he has to hide his laughter so as not to embarrass you any further.
“Feels really good. I want more.. please,”
“You’re so cute. You sure you’re ready..? Don’t wanna hurt you,”
You nod a little but he still seems unsure, so he fucks it in and out of you first. His fingers prod inside and he finds it, that little spongy part a few inches deep, pressing onto it without intent. It makes your whole body freeze and tremble, and he stares at you wide-eyed. You’ve got a hand clasped over your mouth, unsure of what it was until he does it again.
“Hnggh, Izuku,”
He hears you loud and clear so he laughs, this time his pointer finger. He’s quick about it this time, granting you the most bare minimum mercies. His fingers stretch you out good, but you’re so wet from cumming once and his saliva, slick on everything. It’s enough to burn just a little but not so much it hurts. You just feel a little full, a little pleased. Deku slides them into you slowly, deeply - and curls them up press against your g-spot. This time, you have a full body reaction - back arching up off the bed. Fingering yourself rarely feels like much of anything but when it’s him, it makes you ache and drip with pure need. This pleasure is a little more hazy to start, but when he fucks them in and out of you, something shifts.
He finds a rhythm that has you breathing heavy, panting between long breaths like there’s not enough air in your lungs. It’s electrifying, sending little sparks through you every time he finds it. This pleasure is deeper, like you can feel it in a place you didn’t know it existed. It carves something out of you. You whimper as he takes your clit into his mouth one more time and the added layer makes your throat constrict.
You really don’t know how to proceed. Your whole body looks like it’s in a state of shock, the dull pressure of his fingers on your sweet spot with the current of your clit buzzing on his tongue. Warm mouth, humming a little just to see you twitch. He’s knuckle deep inside of you, reaching almost into your throat.
“It feel so good, feel so good, Izu.”
He goes a little harder when you call his name, thinking about how he can barely hold himself up. He spares you a little, stretching you out and holding it. He manages to fit all of it inside, rubbing against your walls with precision.
You look so damn good falling apart, all swollen lips and round mouth and pretty blinking lashes. Your eyes go soft, hooded with desire as he fucks into you with two fingers. He adds another when he knows it feels good for you - the little mewl because it’s not enough, another one, so slowly entering inside of you. You feel stuffed to the brim, a never ending fullness. You can’t help yourself but imagine his thick cock inside of you and how that’ll stretch you so nice.
You weren’t sure if it was possible to feel more pleasure but he proves you wrong instantly. His mouth descends on you and he sets his fast pace, consistent. Pleasure again and again and again in little intervals. Your mouth is dropped open in an open scream, this orgasm so much more deep. You can feel how much it will rock you, the sheer force of it has you drooling. You’re his pretty girl, and he can’t help but stare at your blurry expression.
It’s a tremor, unsteady. The first waves of it having your mouth going slack - it’s the kind of orgasm that sort of just creeps on you. It’s brief but strong, an impossible impact like the splitting of atom. It’s one moment, just a little bit longer. Suddenly your mouth is open so wide, unhinged jaw aching and your head thrown violently on the sheets.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, ohfuck, ohfuck,”
It’s more brief but you cum and you cum hard. You can barely understand how it happens, the rapid shaking as you blink tears away from your eyes. Entirely overwhelmed, you swallow your shock.
“Holy shit,” you gasp, staring at him. “Holy shit!”
You watch as he takes his fingers out and sticks them into his mouth, not a lick of hesitation. It makes you flush how he tastes it, a soft moan from his mouth. His tongue drives over all the edges and then he wipes them on his thigh. He leans up, just to kiss you right after and you can taste yourself in his mouth.
“You taste nice,” he tells you, so earnestly it makes your whole body rise with heat. You ignore replying, just kissing him harder and making him laugh. After everything, you find some strength in your hands and reach down, peering at his cock. He’s big. The only way you can describe it is thick, like a coke can. You reach out for, small hands wrapped around it and he moans, especially loud. It makes your eyes go wide.
“It’s so big, Izuku,” you say, breathless. He gives you a sheepish smile.
“Ah.. you think so?”
You frown a little, tugging at it. He drops his head a little as you jerk him off, precum making your hands slick.
“It is big. I wanna.. wanna feel it,”
He gives you a shaky smile, hands reaching towards the other side of the bed.
“Ah.. do you have any condoms?”
You give him a little laugh, releasing your hands from his cock and wrapping them around neck, pulling him down towards you again.
“Did you think I was kidding earlier?”
He doesn’t remember at first, confused - but as soon as he does, his mouth goes agape. His eyes almost seem like they hit the top of his hairline. A shiver runs through him as you give him another kis, grinding your hips up just a little. He groans into your mouth.
“Fuck.. are you sure?” he asks, hot at just the thought of not using a condom. He can barely imagine it, how it’ll feel to take you all the way raw on his cock. You nod at him, smiling as he pulls away.
“I wanna feel it in me raw, ‘s so big. It’s a waste otherwise,” ― you let go and he sits back, watching as you use your fingers to spread your pussy out for him, chuckling ― “It’s a reward for all your hard work,”
Izuku feels like he might lose his mind, staring as he strokes his cock with one hand. If he can last more than three thrusts, he’ll be impressed with himself. Maybe all of his years edging himself will finally prove to be worth his effort. A molten heat starts in his stomach, all the blood rushing to his cock with infallible force. He stares at your cunt, pretty and open for him- all pulsing and hot. He shivers again, and drags you to him. He lets the heavy weight of his cock sit right against your cunt, pressing down a little. You blink at him before whimpering, the heavy head of his dick pulsing against your clit with need.
He drags it, grinds it in and watches through lidded eyes as cum and saliva mix all over it. A little shiver evades him, throwing his head back as he grinds steadily into your pussy. His head is thrown back, mouth dropped open and moaning your name. You watch as his hips stutter, just grinding against your pussy, eagerly but agonizingly slow. It feels so fucking good. It’s an excruciatingly slow buildup of pleasure, how he just feels you.
“Izuku, please,” you plead, hands reaching for him. He grabs them and pins them to the bed with a soft smile, humming.
“Told you I’d take care of you.. be patient.. I wanna feel you,”
You aren’t sure how much more you can take but then it happens. He leans, tell you to take a deep breath, and then you feel it. The head of his cock, curved and weighted, pressing against your hole. It makes you whine, makes your mouth drop into a shocked gasp. You want to squirm or cling but your hands are still pinned so you can’t thrash. You can’t do anything but lay there and take it.
You feel every single inch as it slides so miserably slow inside of you. He’s being sweet with you, his voice in your ear with adoring praise - little whimpering sounds “fuck you feel good, so good,” over and over. It makes you wet, clenching further on his cock as your whole body pulses like a beating hard. You feel ravenous, starving to be so full of him you can’t breathe. He’s just so fucking thick, no matter how you take it. It stabs your lungs, thick. So, so big - it makes you stretch impossibly wide. It’s not like anything you’ve ever felt in your life. He swallows some saliva in his mouth.
“Half-way, baby. J-just a little more”
You can’t think.. only half? You brace yourself, snivelling. You feel a mess, are a mess - listening to the loud shlick sounds. Your brain feels static, whole body giving into the feeling of being fucked full. You want him so bad you don’t know what to do, every word you’ve learned is lost to coveting him. You want him so blindly.
“Iz-Izuku, please fuck me, please,”
Without another word, he lets his hips rut - a sharp thrust that makes you scream, silent. He’s so deep inside it makes you scramble, and he leans down to kiss you. You feel his cock inside your stomach, it’s so big. It feels incredible, so hot and heavy and big. All you can think about is how it feels inside, mind free from anything other than him. Izuku Midoriya, so big and handsome and sweet. He groans into your mouth.
“Can I move, baby?”
“Please. Please move,”
He lets go of your hands, grabbing your legs and sliding them over his shoulders. He looks so fucking pretty, all green-haired and freckled skin and his dick inside of you. So deep it aches, he presses a kiss to the back of your calf - your legs pressed together giving you perfect pressure on your clit. You don’t know how to do anything but brace yourself, fingers buried in the sheets as he pulls his hips back. He’s clearly going slow for you, at least for now - the pace he sets is steady.
His cock feels nothing short of fucking incredible. This rolling pleasure inside of you on your spot and the steady pressure on your clit from where his hands rest on your navel. You can see how hard he focuses to get you to cum agains, how he rolls his hips with all the strength and finesse he can. Izuku fucks you with dancer's hips, so steady and worked out. He doesn’t look tired, his core tightening so he can get the angle just right. It feels like you’re being torn apart, uprooted like grass from the ground. The pleasure is particularly mind-numbing. So terribly desperate. Sweat dripping down the side of his forehead, he goes soft on you. You’re boneless and he gives you a soft smile.
“You take it so well,” ― he praises, kissing up the back of your leg, bending you ― “Such a pretty girl. You’re beautiful.. wanna see the face you make when you cum again. Please? Can you do that for me?”
The praise has you reeling, nodding with pouty lips and too fucked out to respond proper. This orgasm hits you like a natural disaster, this brilliant and overwhelming force of nature that has everything inside of you feeling ruined beyond repair. He ruins you so gracefully, until you are warm and tight around his cock and all your troubles reduce into nothing. It makes him preen, his pretty baby - so fucking sweet around his cock. He wants to cum but he wants you to cum again, just one more time, just for him.
“Izuku, hngg, Izuku,” it comes out hazardous, a warning for what's next. All the lust and need and everything, all at fucking once. It’s an earthquake, the entire hurricane of everything crashing into you. Your whole body seizes, as you cum on his cock - wearily.
“Oh.. oh my fucking god,” and you cum, hard, right on his cock. He groans as he feels it, finally - the way it pulsates and holds onto him like it would hate to let go. He groans as he fucks into you with no will to stop, a little sloppier now.
“Fuck, fuck - you’re so tight. I’m gonna cum soon, wh-where do you,”
You clench down on him this time on purpose and he groans, falling forward and folding you completely in half. You blink at him, still feeling the waves of your own climax but egging him on anyway. You smile at him.
“Cum inside me, Izuku,” ― you whisper, voice hoarse with exhaustion ― “I’m gonna drain you for all your worth,”
The sound of your sultry voice sends him reeling, and in the last few minutes - he lets himself go. Fucking you so hard your headboard digs into your wall and cumming inside of you in what feels like seconds. He cums and cums and it fills you up so deeply. It makes your whole body shiver as you feel him unload - thick white hot streams pouring until there’s nothing left to give.
He collapses on top of you, completely breathless and half-way out of his mind. You feel his cock soften inside of you as you wrap your arms around his back and relax your legs. The two of you kiss like that for a long while, sharing soft glances in the dimness of your room. You’re exhausted but he seems fine, kissing all over your face and cheeks. You let him pamper you, giggling a little.
“It’s raining out.. can you hear it?,”
He nods, smiling at you.
“Yeah,”
“Do you like the rain?” he asks you. You shrug a little, smiling at him.
“I’ve always wanted to spend a day inside with someone I love, that’s all,” ― you hum ― “Kinda romantic right?”
His whole body feels weightless. This burden, this love, everything inside of him. All the parts of him he so slowly gives to you - there’s no way it wouldn’t feel romantic. He chuckles a little, staring at the window.
“Yeah… I think it’s romantic too,”
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💖Hello lovelies!💖
I know that a lot of people have been asking/dming me about the Nightmare Fuel update, and I’m working on it as well as many more requests and original ideas! Please note that I have a Ko-Fi goal up for the next part of Nightmare Fuel. It’s only $5, so only 5 people need to donate a dollar for the update.
Now, I do want to explain myself a bit for the reason I post goals on my Ko-Fi for updates. For one, I just had surgery, and I can’t work for at least the next six weeks, so every penny counts to me. For two, so much of my time and energy to writing, and it takes a lot out of any writer, especially one who is trying to cater to requests. For three, my time is valuable and my creativity is even more so. I am constantly learning that and working on proving that to myself.
I’m sorry if this comes off as desperate or money-hungry; that’s not my intention at all, but for the most part, Tumblr writers give free content and entertainment, even while struggling with irl issues and needs. So if you can donate, please know that it has a real impact on me and my life, and I am so truly grateful for those who choose to help me out! I appreciate every single one of my readers, and I post these goals, not to hold the next part "hostage" until I get a "ransom", but out of respect for myself and my own needs. My writing is my creation, and I set the boundaries for my works and what I want to get out of them. Because, let's all be honest, you would be the same in my situation. I ask for donations because I want to know if my work is worth anything, and because I honestly need it.
I want to thank everyone who has supported me and those who will support me in the future, as well as all of you who like, reblog, and comment on my posts! Your support means everything, and it keeps me going even when I feel like I can't. Thank you.
TL;DR
In short,
Surgery = no work = I’m broke 🥺
Ko-fi ☕️ = Nightmare Fuel pt. 2
This is a self-respect thing but also about bills
Thank you in advance, I love and appreciate all of you! 🫶🏻
Is Bibliophile Brew going to be out soon ? , no rush 🤍
Hey! Thank you so much for your interest in Bibliophile Brew! It really means so much to me that people seem to enjoy this!
And I know that I have mentioned this in another ask, but again I want to say that I’m so sorry for the delay! While we have met the goal of reposts and likes for part 2, life kinda caught up with me in the form of ✨college finals and graduation✨🥲 Honestly, I hadn’t expected to reach the goal for part 2 for a while from my previous post activity 😅 so I am really happy that this fic is doing so well!
I’m almost finished with my last semester of college and haven’t had as much time as I thought I would to finish writing the second part. However! I graduate May 11th and then I will have SO MUCH FREE TIME! For now, I’m working on the second part during my free time, but it’s just a bit difficult with everything going on. But it is coming!!
Thank y’all again for your patience! Make sure to put on notifications too if you’re following for when I do post part 2! 🧡💚
💖 Hello, my lovelies 💖
⚠️ Important announcement. Please read ⚠️
Good news, I am alive! I know I’ve been MIA for a bit but I’ve been going through some big irl changes. Mainly being that I’m out of a job. Because of that, I’ve been taking every babysitting, dog sitting, doordashing, and odd job I can possibly find for the past few months now, which is why I’ve been so busy and unable to work on your brilliant requests or any new ideas. Sorry for ghosting you all. But I’m back! Still busy and unemployed but back! Writing is very helpful for my mental health so I’m trying my best to keep a writing schedule going as a self-care routine.
With that, I am happy to let you all know that I have some exciting things in the works!
First off, the next part of Biblophile Brew is written and ready, but we have not yet reached the like/comment/repost goal. However, since your girl is broke and hungry, I did create a Ko-Fi and a goal has been set up on there, so whichever goal is met first I’ll post part 4. Please know that I greatly enjoy writing and sharing my works with all of you, and I appreciate every view, like, comment, and share! However, writing fanfic is extremely time consuming and draining some days, and I need a bit more motivation to keep at it now more than ever. So if you can give anything, please know that I appreciate it and every penny makes a real difference in my life! But, if you can’t, I still appreciate every one of you and I am still doing my best to provide fanfic postings! I know y’all need that sustenance lol.
Secondly, a lot of you have been asking for more Nightmare Fuel, and yes, I am working on a second part! But I have other projects that I would like to finish first, such as more ShinZawa fics since so many of you have been asking for more since Private Lessons. I have lots of plans and I have lots of ideas, but I don’t have lots of time, so please be patient with me!
I think that’s everything I wanted to share for now. Thank you for reading to this point and for supporting my writing! If you guys have questions or anything, feel free to let me know. If you have ideas or requests, feel free to send it my way! I will do my best to keep up! Thank you!
PSA!
Hey y’all 👋🏼 I’ve noticed something that I’ve been slacking on lately that I need to address…
Your ages need to be in your bio. I love to see all of the love, reblogs, follows, comments, and requests! It means so, so much to me! But I cannot and will not accept any requests if you don’t have your age in your bio! I try to be diligent about checking every blog that interacts with my work, but you are responsible for your own media consumption. When I say that my work is MINORS DNI, I mean it! My writing is for adults and adults alone. And I hate to do it, but I will block if you don’t have your age in your bios…I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again. Even if you’re 18+ you will be blocked without your age in your bio, bc idk if this will apply to you or not. So please, please, PLEASE have your ages in your bios!
Thank you everyone for your love and support of my writing! And I’m working on your requests and the next parts of current projects, my life has just been a little messy at the moment 😅but I have big plans and great things coming soon!
Thank you for your time! ❤️
Welcome all, to the hell that is my blog
I'm updating all my masterlists and navigation so please don't mind the mess!!
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Reblog Account for if you want to read what I've read.
Recently posted: 1/5/23 The Princess and her Bodyguard Orc!Eddie Munson
Requests: CLOSED
All fics are x fem!reader unless otherwise specified. If there is something specific you’re looking for, my requests/asks are usually open, don't be shy.
Here are my rules for requests
Fic Navigation:
All of my works can be found in their designated tab, be forewarned, many of these works are 18+ and I am not responsible for your media consumption. All fics are marked accordingly as well as chapters to longer fics. I mainly write first person with no y/n, if by chance there is a fic I write that does have y/n, it will be marked.
Stranger Things
Marvel
Paul Dano
Miles Teller
Steve Harrington - Masterlist
Below are all requests/prompts/drabbles for the best boy ever. The list will be updated as things are put out!
Request Guidelines
Main Masterlist
* = explicit
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──
Nurse Steve Masterlist
Tell
When You’re Ready
Miscommunication
Paper Cut
Kiss Me With Your Fist
Heartstopper
That Time of the Month
Just Friends
Insecurities
Steve Knocks You Up *
You’re Showing (drabble)
Pumpkin Carving
Morning Sickness
Overwhelming
Single Dad
Scared
Wingman
Pregnancy Pillow
Driving Miss Daisy
Relax
First Christmas
Ice Skating
Home for the Holidays
Falling
Family Holiday
Hot Chocolate
We’re Family
Truth or Dare
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• 24 ••Minors DNI••I have too many hyper fixations and not enough time to write•
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