Chapter Text
It’s not that Shouto wasn’t interested in sex—he’d just come to think of himself as too busy for his own dick.
He had too much to do. Training, mostly, and studying so that he could become the best possible version of himself he could be. It was something he felt like he owed to the world, being the son of Endeavor. For one thing, his father’s hero legacy was enormous, and for another, well...Endeavor was a giant bastard. And in a lot of ways, Shouto felt like he needed to tip the scales back into balance by being a counterweight of good.
That meant being the best hero he could. That meant keeping his body in top condition, and his mind sharp and focused, and his skills honed to perfection. That meant eating right, and sleeping well, and maintaining a strict diet of reading, studying and practice. Being a Todoroki was absolutely a full time job.
You can’t do that if you’re chasing around in every direction your cock happens to be pointing.
It was with a head full of those thoughts that he woke that morning, ignoring the stiff lump in his sweatpants that was pining for attention. It’d die down shortly—it always did—and then he’d take care of it later when he had some time. A quick, businesslike jerk in the shower, and that’d sort it out for a few days. For now, he needed tea, and some exercise to snap him out of his sleep haze. He filled his gooseneck kettle with freezing cold water and started it boiling, and dropped to the ground, racing himself to see how many pushups he could do before the steam started whistling.
Ten. Twenty. Thirty. Fifty. Seventy. One Hundred. One hundred and twenty-eight today.
His cock was annoyingly persistent as he poured his tea and took a seat at the low table in his room. Push-ups were great for getting your blood pumping in the morning, but they were unfortunately a little like thrusting, which sometimes gave his erection the wrong idea.
He crossed his legs and set about checking his morning email. It’d die down soon. It always did.
The first two emails were trash. Garbage advertisements for skincare and hair care that he definitely didn’t care about. The next few were the usual news alerts he’d set up to push through to his email account. News about Endeavor. News about active villains. News about other hero schools, and anything that might concern the students at UA.
The next one, though, was odd.
From Midoriya. Sent at 3:30am. With a subject line that simply read <3
Shouto, confused but curious, clicked on it.
And was greeted with a full-body mirror selfie of Midoriya, completely naked, with his free hand wrapped around his fully erect cock.
Shouto almost dropped his tea cup.
He stared at it, slack jawed, for what could have been either one second or one hour. He had no idea. His eyes were transfixed on his classmate and friend. On the devilish smile on his face. On the bare skin of his surprisingly well-muscled body. On the sides of his hips and legs, usually always covered by underwear. On the length of his pink, weeping cock…
Shouto sat up straighter, and looked shamefully around his dorm room.
What the hell was this? Why had Midoriya sent him this??
He barely had time to consider the question before he realized there was more than one picture, and before he knew it, his fingers were moving of their own accord. Scrolling down the page. Revealing another three photos of Midoriya in various poses. One a POV shot from his face, one turned around so that he could spread his ass cheeks just enough to show a hint of pink hole, and a final one reclined on the floor. Absolutely covered in cum.
Shouto gaped at the screen.
What...the fuck?
Had he ever given Midoriya the idea that he might want to get photos like this? Had he … somehow asked for them in a way he didn’t understand? He’d never been great at social cues, but he was fairly certain he wasn’t missing out on any kind of hidden face expression that meant ‘send me pics of you milking yourself dry’.
And what was worse was...his own cock.
Far from dying down, it’d been given the most frantic second wind Shouto had ever experienced before. Even between his crossed legs, it pulsed and twitched at the sight of Midoriya’s exposed, lewd, perverted poses. He pressed down on it in a desperate bid to make it go away.
That only made things worse.
The sensation of his hands on it only served to send a shiver up his spine, and Shouto couldn’t stop himself. His tea forgotten on the table, his morning routine out the window, he reached into his pants and took hold of himself. His other hand scrolled back to the first picture, and he started to slowly split his attention between scrolling up and down and massaging his straining cock.
What am I doing?
His mouth was hanging open, and he kept letting go accidental noises. Little ahs that came of their own accord. Was this...what he wanted? He’d spent so long ignoring his own urges he couldn’t tell what he genuinely desired and what was just a desperate want to release. Did he think Midoriya was hot, or was the idea of being personally sent jerkoff selfies just so intimate that he didn’t care who it was?
For now, it didn’t matter.
He needed to speed this up.
He opened all four selfies and arranged them on his screen so he could see them all at once. Now, with both hands available, he was able to yank down his sweat pants and use his scrolling hand to prop himself up. He leaned back, letting his stiff cock stretch out to full length on his stomach, and went to work in earnest. Even he was surprised at how engorged he was. Usually he took care of boners quickly in the shower. From this angle, when it was this excited, his cock was much bigger than the way he usually saw it.
That , somehow, made him even more horny.
He locked eyes on the four selfies, pumping his cock all the while. His eyes flicked from the first picture—Midoriya’s cheeky face and full body—to the second—the close up of his cute, medium-size dick—and he already felt his orgasm starting to creep up on him. His fingers were beginning to coat themselves in his precum, and the process got even smoother and more pleasurable.
The third picture. Midoriya’s ass in the mirror, while he looked over his shoulder with a grin on his face. Fucking hell. And then the final one. Midoriya lying on the floor of his dorm. His chest and abs splattered with cum. His eyes half-closed and whole body slack, like he’d just been completely fucked out. Wrecked and satisfied.
Shouto couldn’t hold it any longer.
His orgasm crashed in to him harder than any other before it. He yelped in surprise as his cock spurted a jet of cum right in to his face, then six more on to the old shirt he was wearing. His legs went to jelly, and he collapsed fully to the floor, using the hand he’d been propping himself up with to wipe at the mess on his cheek.
He’d never shot so hard it’d caught him in the face before.
Shouto lay there just a moment, letting his breath catch up to him. What had he just done? Why was his first reaction to these pictures to immediately start jacking off? He’d never jerked it to a guy before—though to be fair, he’d never jerked it to anyone before. Was this normal? Did people just...send each other nude selfies without warning? Did they always make you hornier than you’d ever been before?
He couldn’t quite make sense of it.
His morning routine was in tatters, but he at least felt satisfied in a way he hadn’t since he got to UA. He’d forgotten this feeling. This...light feeling, almost giddy feeling of jerking off for pleasure. And the way it’d come about by complete surprise, initiated by Midoriya…
He sat up, wiping the rest of the cum from his face with his already ruined shirt.
Midoriya. He’d sent him these pictures for some reason. Should he...did he want to get some pictures back? Should he have left the mess on his face and taken a picture of it to send back to him? He didn’t particularly want to take pictures of himself in such a compromising way, but at the same time...wasn’t it polite? Was it expected ? He had just gotten himself off to them, after all.
In any case, it was too late. His cock was softening and the cum on his shirt was soaking into non-descript stains.
Still.
He needed to figure out what was going on here.
He gathered himself up, discarded the incriminating evidence of his shirt to the trash bin, and took himself off to the showers.
Seeing Midoriya today was going to be...interesting.
***
“Todoroki!” Mineta yelled from the back of the 1-A classroom. “Did you get them, too?”
It was still early—half an hour before homeroom was called—and the morning crowd was small. Only Mineta, Sero, Kirishima, Kaminari and Tokoyami had arrived so far, and were all clumped together at the back of the room.
“Mineta, shut up ,” Sero said, whipping a length of tape from his elbow and clamping it around Mineta’s mouth. “Sup, Todoroki.”
Shouto’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Did I get what?” He said.
“You’d know what we meant if you did,” Kirishima said, and looked guiltily around the room. “We all got some...weird-ass pictures from Midoriya last night.”
“Phrasing, dude,” Kaminari said.
“You all got them?” Shouto said, looking between the group, his heart skipping just a little. He hadn’t meant to give it away so quickly, but the surprise had disarmed him. If everyone got the photos, then that helped explain away why Shouto had received them.
So they weren’t just for him.
He hadn’t expected it to, but his heart sank just a little.
“So you did get them,” Sero said. “Man, what the hell was he thinking?”
“It must have been a hack,” Kirishima said. “No way Midoriya is sending out stuff like that to everyone. We all know him better than that.”
“Yeah, I mean, he doesn’t seem the type,” Kaminari said. “But he also doesn’t seem the type to take photos of his own butthole to start with, right?”
“Eugh, bro. Be more delicate will you?”
“How am I going to be more delicate when I’m describing a butthole, dude?”
“Don’t describe it in the first place!”
Shouto left them to their argument and plunged deep into thought. Okay, so Midoriya hadn’t sent the photos only to him. It’d been a mass mail-out. It at least relieved him of stressing out about the protocol of sending his own nudes back. But at the same time, if this truly was a hack, and the photos weren’t meant for him to see, then he’d just had the most explosive orgasm of his life at the expense of Midoriya’s privacy.
Nobody needed to know about that , of course.
But it didn’t stop him feeling guilty.
Behind them, the door to the classroom crashed open. Shouto knew before he turned around that it was Bakugou—the only one who could make walking into a classroom sound like a demolition crew was dismantling the building. The group looked at him, and he looked back, and for a solid ten seconds nobody said a word.
“He sent them to you, too, didn’t he?” Bakugou said. “That fucking pervert.”
“Hey, Bakugou,” Kirishima said. “We don’t know that. Why would Midoriya want us all to see that? It’s got to be someone hacking his email or his phone or whatever.”
“You think I care?” Bakugou said. “It doesn’t matter to me why I had to look at Deku’s tiny little gross cock and his slutty cumshot this morning. It only matters that he pays for it.”
Not that it was the most important thing to get caught up on, but Shouto’s brain cried out in protest at calling Midoriya’s cock ‘tiny’. It wasn’t, especially not for a short guy. Five and a bit inches at least, maybe closer to five and a half…
He shook his head.
Not the time.
“Preeeetty sure if they were sent to everyone, he’s already paying for it, dude,” Kaminari said. “He either sent them on purpose and is gonna get expelled for a thousand years for sexual misconduct or whatever. Or he was hacked, and is going to spend a long, long time getting over the fact that we’ve seen his—” his eyes flicked to Kirishima, “...Poop chute?”
“Bro, not an improvement.”
“You all deleted the email, right?” Sero said. “I don’t know what’ll happen next but if we can maybe cover his tracks a little, he might not get kicked out over this. Right?”
“Yeah, man,” Kirishima said. “I deleted it when I saw the thumbnails. I was like nope .”
“Me, too,” Sero said.
“I nearly blew up my phone trying to get it off the screen,” Bakugou said.
“Right,” Kaminari said. “Safe to say we all deleted it.”
Shouto, his head tilted down so he could stare directly at his shoes, sucked at his teeth.
“Of course,” he lied.
He’d do it as soon as he got back to his dorm.
Was he the only idiot who thought Midoriya had wanted him—and only him—to see the photos? He hadn’t expected everyone to have gotten themselves off to them, but he thought maybe he wasn’t the only one who’d assumed they were...just for him? Was he that naive?
He got his answer as everyone else started filtering in for the day.
Iida—shocked and assumed it was a hack.
Aoyama—making no attempt to hide the fact he liked what he saw, but still assumed it was a hack.
Momo, Uraraka, Asui, Ojiro—gobsmacked at it all, and assumed it was a hack.
By the time the classroom was full, it was clear to Shouto—nobody had been dumb enough to assume Midoriya would send them the photos willingly. Just him. Maybe he really was just that stupid, or maybe...maybe he got different vibes from Midoriya than everyone else. In any case, he was almost sure he was the odd man out that’d taken the opportunity to ruin a perfectly good shirt over it.
At twenty minutes past the morning buzzer, Aizawa still hadn’t arrived to take roll call.
And Midoriya was nowhere to be seen, either.
“He is getting so expelled right now,” Kaminari said.
“Shut up, current-head,” Jiro said. “He is not.”
“Okay, maybe not. But he’s not here, and Sir isn’t here, either. Which means he is in a meeting right now with the principal, and All Might, and Eraserhead, so they can all have a lengthy chat about his—” he eyed Kirishima again, “...chocolate dispensary?”
Kirishima looked like he was about to burst with rage.
“Bro, let go of Midoriya’s asshoohhhhh—hey, Midoriya.”
Shouto’s head snapped up, and he saw Midoriya enter the room flanked by Aizawa. His face was deep red, his eyes puffy, and he was making avid eye contact with the floor. Behind him, a hand on his shoulder, Aizawa steered him toward his seat and let him sit down. The silence in the classroom was its own, oppressive thing that nobody dared shatter.
Shouto stared at Midoriya’s back, and his cock twitched.
Not fucking now , he ordered it.
“I won’t mince words,” Aizawa said, positioning himself front-and-center in the classroom. “You’ve all been sent some grossly inappropriate material from Midoriya’s email account. You need to know two things:
“One, those photos are doctored. Two, Midoriya’s account was compromised. He didn’t take them. He didn’t send them.”
A rustle went around the classroom, and Shouto knew why.
Doctored ?
Just...definitely not. That was for sure Midoriya’s body. The scars on his arms, his distinctive muscley shape on a short frame—if it wasn’t him, they’d found his identical twin. Shouto hated to admit it, but he’d taken notice of Midoriya’s naked body in the showers before. He could recognize it just as easily as he could recognize Kirishima’s spiky hair and Tokoyami’s beaked head.
Aizawa slammed his fist against the chalkboard, ending the murmuring.
“We know who did this, in fact. Not a villain, but not a hero, either. It’s a quirk user we’ve been attempting to track down for months, but is extremely elusive because they only ever surface on the internet. We don’t know a lot about them besides the fact their online handle is ‘PawnerGraph’, and that their quirk allows them to create photo-realistic works of art from traces of DNA. It’s almost always indistinguishable from a real photograph. They’ve made...quite a living out of their ability to draw famous heroes in various situations.”
Shouto’s shoulders dropped. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
A... fan artist?
“Sir, do you mean…” Uraraka said, raising her hand meekly. “This person can draw you—the real you—in any way they want? Just by...touching you?”
Aizawa’s hooded eyes scanned the room.
“Not just touch. Any way they can come in to contact with your DNA seems to work. We know they’ve managed to create artworks from used glasses, discarded napkins and even stray eyelashes in the past.”
Shouto could hardly believe it. A fan artist that could replicate your entire body—pore for pore, mole for mole, hair for hair—and could put you in any situation they wanted. And that’s what had happened to Midoriya.
They weren’t photos of him, but they might as well be.
He wanted to bury his head in his hands.
I’m so sorry, Midoriya.
“We tell you this not just to clear Midoriya of any wrongdoing, but to warn you,” Aizawa said. “It seems as though someone has commissioned PawnerGraph to create artworks of UA students. We’re working on trying to trace who it is, but for now, I’m sorry to say…
“All of you are at risk.”
He couldn’t have dropped a bigger hand grenade if he’d been trying. The whole class erupted, their voices ranging from annoyed to terrified. Shouto, for his part, didn’t join them. He didn’t care what happened to him. He was laser-focused on Midoriya, who hadn’t looked up once since he’d sat down. He wanted to make sure he was okay. He wanted to apologize...or no, maybe not apologize, because that’d be an awkward conversation. But at least see if he was going to be—
“We are instituting some basic rules to protect you,” Aizawa said. “We can’t ban all communication between students, but you’re all to change your passwords immediately. If you receive any emails with attachments of any kind, don’t open them. We’re working on a filter that will catch any content like this. For now, just be smart.”
The lecture went on a little while longer, some of the students asking a question here or there about what they could do to prevent it—the short answer was ‘nothing’, the long answer ‘nothing at all’. At the end of it all, Aizawa declared class dismissed. UA’s lessons were canceled for the day while the issue was being dealt with by the staff.
Shouto, quick as he could, shoved his school material into his bag and stood up. He made a beeline for Midoriya’s desk, but was too late. He was already being crowded by his classmates, all of them looking to do the same thing. All cooing their condolences at him. All trying to make him feel better.
Shouto shouldered his bag and made for the door.
For now, he could at least delete the email.
***
Delete it .
Shouto’s finger was hovering over the delete button. All he had to do was press down.
Delete it. Delete the email right now. Do it.
He could see the thumbnails of the pictures in the preview pane. The way the color pallette went from green on top, to pale in the middle, to pink at the bottom. He could see the POV shot of Midoriya’s cock so clearly. Right there. Something he’d maybe never see again.
Delete. The fucking. Email.
Why was he hesitating? Why was this so difficult? Why was his cock twitching to life again??
Already, he could feel it pressing into his underwear. He’d never had a problem with ignoring his cock before, but somehow, now, when it was being aroused by these pictures of Midoriya...he just couldn’t. He needed to take care of it. It filled up every cell in his brain. He was like an addict for these fake pictures—a junkie that was trying to flush his supply, but knew he’d miss it as soon as he did.
He palmed at his cock.
Maybe...just one more go round.
Then he could commit the photos to memory, and he wouldn’t need them any more. Or maybe, in the harsh light of the post-orgasm day, he’d come to his senses and actually delete these abominable fakes.
Fakes that just happened to be exactly— exactly— what Midoriya would look like if he was taking lewd selfies.
He didn’t waste time like he had that morning. He hurried himself out of his clothes. All of them. DIscarded them in a crumpled pile on the floor, and positioned his tablet screen so that he could see it clearly from his lying position. He selected all four photos and set them to full-screen slide show, to ensure he wouldn’t need to touch them any more. Then he lay back, took hold of his throbbing cock, and got to work.
Midoriya...Midoriya Midoriya Midoriya. I’m so sorry, but you’re just too cute .
He couldn’t take his eyes off the well-cut, extremely compact muscles in his chest and stomach. Midoriya was like a bodybuilder that’d been shrink-wrapped down to the size of a tiny twink, and Shouto couldn’t deny he found it hot as fuck. The dusting of hair under his navel that trailed its way to his pubes, the way his cock stuck proudly through them, straight forward. The way one of his abnormally big hands wrapped it up almost completely.
I’m so sorry, Midoriya.
Shouto’s rhythm was slow and steady, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out for long. He’d only just cum that morning, and here he was about to explode all over himself a mere three hours later. He spared a glance for his own cock, slick and slimy, swollen pink from over-use in too short a time frame. He could see his own muscles straining in his legs and abdomen, seizing up as he tried to fend off his own orgasm.
Not yet...he wasn’t ready yet…
The slideshow shifted to the next photo—Midoriya turned around, spreading his ass cheek to the side, giving an agonizingly brief glimpse of his hole. Out of all the photos, Shouto knew, this was the one that seemed to set him most ablaze. He’d seen Midoriya’s butt before. Everyone in class 1-A had. But there was something so sacred, so lewd, so hot about seeing it spread open for his eyes to rake over. It was something he was never supposed to see, and now here it was. Reproduced in perfect anatomical detail by a perverted quirk user.
Shouto was so close.
But just as the next photo faded in—just as he caught a glimpse of Midoriya’s cum-drenched abs and fucked-out face—a notification popped up on his screen. He’d received a new email. This time, from Bakugou.
With the subject line <3
He sat bolt upright, flicking his hand out to tap the notification before it disappeared.
His heart was pounding faster than it ever had as the slideshow vanished, and the email app opened up. There were five attachments. And shouto could tell from the thumbnails that they were definitely the work of PawnerGraph.
His right hand glued to his cock, he tapped the first of the photos.
He was greeted, once again, by Midoriya’s naked body. He was sitting against a wall—in a UA dorm room Shouto didn’t recognize—with his legs splayed either side of the camera. There was a giddy smile on his face, his cock fully at attention.
Shouto felt an involuntary grunt leave his body.
More. He was being spoiled with more .
The next photo was almost identical, except for the appearance of a second body. It was just a pair of legs in frame for now, completely bare, with a big, veiny cock attached to them. Midoriya had his hand wrapped around it, his eyes locked on it. Shouto could tell immediately who the cock belonged to. The thick legs and light pubes could only belong to one person.
He clicked through to the next photo, and sure enough. There was Bakugou. The framing had pulled back so that his full naked body could be shown, and Midoriya had shifted positions so that he was on his knees, ass up, Bakugou’s cock stuffed almost to the hilt inside his mouth. Shouto’s own mouth wouldn’t close. It was Bakugou’s face. His body, replicated perfectly.
Shouto was no fan of Bakugou, but he did have a good body. He and Kirishima were the two that spent the most time taking care of their physique, and in Bakugou’s case that manifested as a tight, zero-body-fat ball of pure muscle. Shouto could see the cords of muscle in his chest and arms, the spider-work of veins that showed through even in the most unlikely places, and the v-line that looked like it was cut from stone. And then, on top of all that, Midoriya...sucking away…
He took his hand off his own cock. If he so much as brushed it right now, he was sure he was going to shoot buckets all over the floor.
He clicked through to the next picture. The framing had zoomed back in again, so that only Midoriya was fully visible. Bakugou’s body was cut off at the waist. Now, though, a third body had joined the action. On the left side of the frame, a pair of pale legs were positioned like a mirror image of Bakugou’s. A long, erect cock was jutting toward Midoriya, who had it wrapped up in his spare right hand.
Shouto, his breathing stalled, clicked through to the final photo.
And saw himself, one hand on either side of Midoriya’s waist, eyes closed in ecstasy…
Fucking him right in the ass.
Shouto, hands nowhere near his cock, came all over the place.