Archive of Our Own

"C'mon, Deku. We've been over this."

Izuku bites back a wince as he switches his phone from one ear to the other so he can grab the keys to his apartment out of his pocket. He knows that tone.

"Uraraka," he starts, "I know you mean well."

"Izuku freaking Midoriya, don't you dare continue that sentence!"

"And I know you think you're onto something here - but there's just no way that's possible," Izuku finishes in a rush, exhaling out a breath as he finally slides his key into the lock, the tumblers clicking in his wake. "There's just no way that Shouto likes me that way. He only thinks of me as a friend!"

Uraraka huffs at that; if Izuku could see her, he's sure she'd be rolling her eyes.

"Uh-huh," she says, her voice flat. "Sure, you guys are friends, it's platonic."

"Thank you -"

"He just also wants to ride you so hard he sees stars."

Izuku, like, chokes.

He makes a very undignified sort of squawk as his phone slips from his fingers, and the rest of the bags in his arms follow suit with a series of sad, slightly concerning plops; he quickly scrambles to pick them up, the old man from down the hall shooting him a ruffled sort of look that says exactly what he thinks of that, and then glares at the screen like it's done something to offend him - which isn't so far from the truth, actually, considering Uraraka's been heckling him about this particular subject all afternoon.

The damn device won't end his suffering and freaking die already, and that's just rude!

Still, after getting everything back into its proper place, he brings the phone back to his ear; if he hangs up now, Uraraka will just call him back, and since he really does have some reports he needs to finish up before he gets back to the agency tomorrow, he figures it's best to go ahead and bulldoze the rest of the way through this conversation.

"Respectfully," he says, shaking his head, "he does not."

Uraraka snorts.

The sound isn't kind.

"Disrespectfully, he wants to fucking bone," she shoots back, and like -

Okay, so this isn't the first time she's brought this up.

It isn't the second, or the third, or even the tenth time that Uraraka's mentioned Shouto's supposed crush on him, and while Izuku can admire the persistence, he's quite frankly getting a little tired of her assertions! He's a little annoyed at how insistent she is, and also how she's so certain that his best friend - his very lovable, very cute best friend whom Izuku also happens to be completely and totally in love with - wants him to blow his back out.

Mostly because he doesn't want to get his hopes up, but also because it doesn't make any sense?

Like, sure, Shouto is gay.

He likes men, and Izuku is a guy, so - score one for him, he guesses.

But he's seen the kind of people that Shouto's hooked up with; he knows what sort of guy that Shouto's attracted to, and also the handful that he's actually gone on to date, and while Izuku doesn't think he's, like, unattractive or anything, he's also not like them.

He doesn't look like - that, and so he's quietly made his peace with the fact that Shouto Todoroki, love of his life, isn't attracted to him.

He's accepted his fate.

When he points this out to Uraraka, though, she just huffs out a breath through her nose.

"Yeah, okay," she says. "He's not attracted to you."

"He's not -"

"He just whines about it in the group chat every time you do something ridiculously vascular and burst out of your hero costume because he laments the loss of good embroidery."

"Oh my god, that was one time! And that seam was already fraying!"

"He whimpered, Deku. Whimpered."

Izuku swallows and squeezes his eyes shut.

"I mean, when was the last time you heard Todoroki whimper about anything?"

"Maybe he was just concerned for my publicist," he shoots back. "You know how much damage control Hana had to do after that incident; it took her weeks to scrub the internet of those photos, and Shouto was - sympathizing, I'm sure!"

"Or," Uraraka retorts, a little sly, "he was experiencing the full-on crisis that is popping a boner while wearing a spandex suit. It could have also been that."

Izuku, who has experienced that particular crisis himself, winces.

That's not something he would wish on his worst enemy, because it's both extremely uncomfortable and the media isn't particularly kind - but that also presupposes it actually happened, and since Izuku refuses to believe that the startled intake of breath he'd heard Shouto take when his suit ripped right down the center of his chest while fighting that one villain had been born of arousal instead of simple surprise, it's a bit of a moot point.

It's entirely irrelevant, and he isn't going to dignify it with a response.

Instead, he finally makes his way into his apartment, giving the door a gentle nudge with his hip as he slides through the entryway and into the genkan. He slips his shoes off as best as he can while juggling all of the bags in his arms, and then heads into the kitchen to drop them off on the counter - all while listening to a steady barrage of Uraraka's complaints, offering up an ooh or ah whenever he deems it appropriate.

"Are you listening to me?" she demands, just as he's gotten most of the groceries put away.

"Not really!" he cheerfully retorts.

Uraraka huffs again, though this time, the sound is fond. "Asshole."

"I mean, it's nothing you haven't told me before," he points out.

"And yet, you still refuse to take my advice to heart." She clicks her tongue. "Shame."

There's a rustling noise on the other end of the line, like Uraraka's moving around a little; Izuku takes the momentary reprieve from the onslaught to run a hand through his hair, glancing around the rest of the apartment to see if he can spot Shouto.

Though they've lived together the better part of two years now, he's still a little reclusive. He mostly keeps to himself if Izuku isn't home, preferring to hole up in their little reading nook or curl up into a corner of the couch, and since neither of those spots are currently occupied, the lights in the living room turned off, he assumes that means that Shouto is out.

Which is fine, obviously!

He'd had patrol earlier today, and Izuku hadn't been, like, expecting him. Their schedules don't exactly overlap, and even if they did both have the day off, Shouto isn't beholden to him.

He's hardly required to tell Izuku when and where he goes out -

But Izuku can admit to being a little disappointed at the lack of immediate company, and so he breathes out a quiet sigh as he turns back to the fridge and the cabinets just beyond, taking stock of all the ingredients he'd just bought to try and think up something to make for dinner.

Uraraka, clever as ever, quickly catches on.

"Lover boy not home?"

"Don't call him that."

"Fine. Is your completely platonic, not at all codependent situationship not at the apartment?"

"Oh, for crying out loud, we are not codependent! We do things separately all the time!"

"But you admit it's a situationship."

"It's -" Izuku snaps his mouth shut, caught. "That's not what this is."

"I mean, it kinda is."

"Uraraka."

"You both like each other, but won't speak up," she points out, like she's ticking off points on a list. "You both want to fuck, but won't make the first move -"

"I'm not making a move on my best friend," Izuku confirms, pushing away from the counter. "There's no move to make because he's not interested in me that way -"

A sudden noise draws Izuku's attention.

It's faint, not very loud - something like a gasp, or maybe a sigh. He barely even hears it over Uraraka's insistent chatter.

But considering the fact that he's alone in the apartment, his senses flare.

He's on red-alert, even if Danger Sense is being suspiciously quiet at the back of his mind, padding out of the kitchen and into the living room before he can think twice. Uraraka, sensing his discomfort, goes quiet.

"Deku?" she asks, voice sobering. "Is something wrong?"

Izuku makes a shushing noise, as quietly as he can.

"I heard something," he murmurs, trailing a hand along the couch. "I think -"

Another gasp, another sigh.

It's both louder and softer, like he's getting closer to the source of the noise even as the sounds grow quiet, and he strains to hear, pulling the phone away from his ear for a moment.

There's no signs of forced entry at the windows.

Nothing is out of place, not a single throw pillow or book, not one magazine. The big ticket items, like their television and Shouto's Switch, are still humming quietly in their places on the entertainment center, and Izuku's laptop is plugged in and sitting on his desk. It doesn't look like anything's been stolen or moved, and yet -

There it is again!

Izuku whirls around, towards the direction of the hall that leads to the bedrooms. He's just in time to hear a breathy sort of gasp, followed by a soft, muted thump.

Is someone hiding out back there? Is that where the intruder's lurking?

"Deku?"

Uraraka's voice brings him back to the present.

"I think someone is in my apartment," he breathes, a little shaken. "I think - oh god, are we being robbed?! Is that what this is?"

"Deku," Uraraka says urgently. "Deku, breathe. You can totally handle this."

"I am breathing! And I know I can handle it. It's just - well, it's really invasive!"

"Do you need me to call someone? The police, or - backup, do you need backup?"

"I - no," Izuku says, shaking his head a little, like that will clear his suddenly racing thoughts and slow his pounding heartbeat. "It's fine, I've got it, I just - stay on the line with me?"

"Of course."

Izuku shoves his hand into his jacket, pulling out his earbuds. He slips one into his ear as he slips his phone into his pocket, making sure the two are connected so he can keep in contact with Uraraka, and then, carefully, steps out into the hallway.

The noises are louder here.

Just barely, only really even discernible because the rest of the apartment is so quiet; but now that he's looking for them, they're impossible to miss. It would hard not to track the steady stream of thumps and gasps, to not follow along in their wake until he finds himself at the door to Shouto's bedroom, and when he reaches out the test the doorknob, giving it a soft squeeze that he hopes isn't too loud, he's unsurprised to find it locked.

"They're in Shouto's room," he whispers to Uraraka, taking a few steps back so he's not overheard. "They're locked inside."

"Do you have a key?"

Chewing on his lip, Izuku exhales out a shaky breath and shakes his head.

"No," he says. "There's just one, and Shouto has it; I can - break the door down, maybe? I think I could do that. But that seems kinda extreme, and we're already on thin ice with the property manager because of that hole I accidentally punched in the mailroom wall last month, so… I'd rather not, if I can help it."

"How do you accidentally punch a hole in a wall?"

"Hmm? Oh, there was a mishap with a flyer. But forget that for a minute. How do I get into his room?"

Uraraka hums.

"Well, there's always a bobby pin. I don't suppose you have any of those lying around?"

"What, like to pick the lock?" Izuku asks, surprised.

"Um, yeah? Unless you have a better idea, or like - actual lock picks."

Izuku snorts. "You know, funny story - I don't."

"Damn. Go check the bathroom then, I'm sure Shouto has some to pin his bangs back."

Silently, Izuku retreats back down the hall.

He slips into the bathroom, using the light from the window to ease open the drawer that houses most of Shouto's things. Though he tries not to mess things up too much, his hands are clumsy and bobby pins are small; he knocks over a container of what looks like some kind of skin serum and another of chapstick in his quest to get to the hair products at the back of the drawer, barely biting back a wince as he finally draws a handful of the tiny contraptions out.

"Okay," he mutters. "Okay, I've got the pins, I've got - how many do I need?"

"Two, if you do it right," Uraraka replies, amused.

Izuku swallows. "And if I get it wrong?"

"Better grab a handful."

Izuku does as instructed, pocketing all but the top two pins in the stack. He manipulates them into the shapes Uraraka explains he'll need, listening intently as she goes over the basics of how to pick a lock, and then, quietly, he heads back towards Shouto's room.

The noises are louder now, less subdued.

It's like the thief knows he's there and is trying extra hard to find an escape route, which -

Honestly, what are they even looking for?

What are they hoping to find in Shouto's room?

Despite being born into one of the richest hero families in Japan, he's not exactly materialistic - he prefers simple, comfortable clothing over designer labels, and he doesn't really have a whole lot of expensive hobbies. He likes to read, and he likes to garden, both of which are relatively cheap and not at all sordid, and the most precious thing he possesses is probably the collection of letters he keeps from when his mother was in the hospital and they were just starting to rebuild their relationship - not exactly something a thief would be interested in stealing.

Are they looking for dirt, then? Something to try and smear Shouto's name?

The very notion makes Izuku a little upset, and he frowns as he settles into a crouch in front of the door - because hasn't the Todoroki family suffered enough? Hasn't Shouto?

With the exception of Endeavor, who Izuku thinks can kindly go fuck himself ten ways to Sunday and deserves every bit of the bad press he's gotten since the end of the war, there's been enough scandals to last them a lifetime, and so Izuku resolves to get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible, to very politely and firmly tell this gossip bandit that they can go find another sound bit for their headline. He gets down to business with the lock picks.

But then something strange happens.

There's another gasp, followed by a tremulous, faint sort of noise Izuku can… really only classify as a moan, a breathless sort of wheeze that has uncertainty pricking at his belly, and -

"Izuku."

The bobby pins fall from Izuku's hands.

"Izuku, Izuku, god yes, right there, right - please. Please -"

They clatter to the floor, Izuku's eyes going very, very wide, and get lost in the carpet running the length of the hall because he knows that voice.

He would recognize it anywhere, because it belongs to his very best friend, which -

"Fuck, please Izuku -"

Oh, Izuku thinks, a little dumb.

There is no thief.

There never was, because the sounds coming from Shouto's room are those being made by Shouto himself while he - oh god, while he touches himself, as he jerks off and thinks about Izuku, of all people, fucking him through the mattress.

Wow.

Oh god, oh wow, wow, wow -

Izuku doesn't think he's ever gotten hard so fast in his life, the way all the blood in his head rushes south almost painful. He sucks down a ragged inhale, presses one hand to his mouth and the other to the base of his stomach. His cock is straining at the front of his athletic pants, tenting the fabric enough that he can fucking see it when he looks down; he thinks if he touches himself even once, he'll cum, so painfully turned on he's a little dizzy with it.

"Fuck," he whimpers, biting at his lip. "Fuck, fuck, fuck -"

He must not be as quiet as he thinks, because Uraraka suddenly says his name.

She murmurs it softly in his ear, quiet but sharp enough to bring him back to his senses, and though Izuku likes to think he's got the remnants of One for All well under control these days, he kind of -

Flails.

He makes a very embarrassing noise as he careens back down the hall, far faster than any normal person could manage, intent on escaping the apartment and fleeing down the stairs. He pushes out onto the sidewalk with very little grace, only belatedly remembering that he has neither his wallet nor his keys and is still kinda, sorta sporting an erection, and then sinks down into a crouch right there on the pavement, breathing hard through his nose.

"Deku? Please say something," Uraraka says in his ear, her voice a little frantic. "You're worrying me."

Izuku groans, lamenting all the life choices that have led him to this moment.

Why did he try to become a hero, he questions?

Why did he befriend Shouto Todoroki?

How on earth could he mistake his best friend masturbating for a thief breaking into the apartment of two highly ranked heroes, what the hell is his problem?

"Please tell me you didn't hit your head on something and die."

Izuku barks out a laugh, holding his head in his hands; he chooses to ignore the half-concerned, half-scandalized looks the rest of the people on the sidewalk are giving him.

"No," he mourns. "I'm still alive."

"Ah," Uraraka says. "Well, that's good!"

Remembering the way his name had sounded on Shouto's tongue as he'd cum, the way he'd asked him to fuck him harder, faster, deeper, Izuku isn't quite so certain that's true. He's not sure he isn't sleepwalking, that this isn't some terrible fever dream he's conjured up to torture himself with, and what the hell is he supposed to do now?

How is he ever going to look Shouto in the eye again?

Right before he gives into the temptation to cry, he remembers Uraraka's still on the line, which - okay, that's not so bad. Having a friend sit him down and talk him through his rapidly spiraling thoughts will do him some good, he can still salvage this! He just -

Needs to sit down and hash this out, fuck.

Choking out a wheeze, he runs a hand over his face, and asks, "Are you busy right now?"

"Right now? Like, at this very moment?" Uraraka pauses. "I mean, I'm on patrol."

"Can you cancel it?"

"Can I cancel patrol?" Uraraka laughs. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with Deku?"

Izuku grimaces, finally pushing up to his feet. "Uraraka. Please."

Something in his voice must convince her of his plight, for she quickly sobers.

"Okay, okay, let me check in with the others real quick - if I can just… yep, I'm good to take thirty minutes! Meet me at the usual place?"

Relieved, Izuku sighs.

"Yeah," he murmurs. "We need to talk."

"Okay, so - don't panic."

Oh, Izuku is beyond panic at this point.

He is so far removed from being panicked that he's actually starting to panic again, if only because his traitorous body still thinks he's in some kind of twisted fight-or-flight mode, uncertain whether he needs to go fling himself off a building or find a very large plot of sand to bury his head in, and has he mentioned he's not panicking?

Because he's not.

He is totally cool about this, entirely nonchalant about the fact that Shouto (apparently) thinks about Izuku while he masturbates. It's definitely not a big fucking deal -

"I know what you're thinking, and it's really not that bad."

"Not that bad," Izuku repeats.

"In the grand scheme of events, I think this is actually kinda good!"

"Not that bad, are you - Uraraka. Ochako, I almost walked in on my best friend jerking off! While he was thinking about me and moaning my name!"

Izuku hisses this, as quietly as he can, across the table he and Uraraka are huddled at, his lukewarm cup of coffee clutched in his hands like a lifeline.

Though there's no real malice in his voice, he knows he must paint quite the picture -

And Uraraka, damn her, just pats his hand and shoots him a smug look over the rim of her cup of tea, the gleam in her eyes saying I told you so louder than her mouth ever could.

"Sure. It's an invasion of his privacy, and you definitely broke a few rules in the roommates handbook -"

"It was an accident!"

"Shouto will probably be super embarrassed when you tell him what you heard, and I really don't think there's any way to bring it up without the both of you feeling a little awkward."

Izuku groans and buries his face in his hands.

"You think?" he demands.

"But hey, you wanted proof that Shouto's into you - you're the one who who kept saying I was crazy, that you needed more evidence to go off than just my sincere good wishes and the immaculate vibes, and here you go! That empirical evidence you always get so happy to see!"

"I never called you crazy!"

"No, you called me delusional, which… I'm not sure is better, honestly."

Izuku winces. "Sorry."

"Mmm, I suppose I forgive you. Also, I'm really in the mood for some high quality sashimi."

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. Dinner's on me, next time."

Uraraka smiles, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

"Seriously, Deku," she says. "I don't think this is as a big a deal as you're making it out to be. I mean, you and Todoroki are both adults here. I guess it's a little… strange to find out how and when your friends masturbate, but… it's not like you were spying on him!"

Izuku muffles a whimper in his hands.

"Uraraka," he points out, miserable, "I mistook his moans for robbery."

"Okay, well." Uraraka makes a face, one she probably intends to be encouraging. "Yeah, that wasn't your best moment. But again, you didn't do it on purpose! He obviously wasn't making a whole lot of noise if you mistook him fucking himself with a dildo for someone shuffling around. Tell him not to be so quiet next time or something, dang."

Izuku stares, wide-eyed.

Because if he's being honest, he hasn't really let himself think too much on what Shouto might have been doing in his room. He hasn't dared to contemplate any of the details.

But to hear it put so bluntly, in Uraraka's upfront, no-nonsense voice…

"Oh," he whispers, horrified to learn that he is, once again, hard as a rock. "Oh, no."

"I mean, that's what you heard, right?"

"Oh, my god," he wheezes, curling up into a ball as if that will make his erection go away.

"He was fucking himself, and pretending it was you?"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore!"

Uraraka's grin is wicked, her laugh absolutely diabolical.

"Why?" she asks, knowing. "Does it bother you?"

Izuku shakes his head, wordless.

"Does the thought of Todoroki fucking himself on his favorite, Deku-themed dildo get you a little hot under the collar?"

Yes, obviously.

It gets Izuku very hot and bothered, and also makes him go a little stupid -

(A part of him also wants to insist that no, there isn't a collection of Deku-themed sex toys on the market, or at least not any that are licensed, because the thought of approving a collection of fake penises and bullet vibrators with his face on the box makes Izuku break out into fucking hives.

But telling Uraraka that means he has to fess up to the fact that his marketing team has in fact toyed with the idea to try appealing to that particular demographic before.

Telling her would mean reliving that particular nightmare in real time, and also begging her to keep it a secret, and Izuku's kind of got his hands full here!)

But it is the middle of the day, and they are sitting in a very popular coffee shop; Uraraka is still in her hero's costume, for crying out loud, and though Izuku's pretty obviously off-duty, anyone could swing a little too close to their table and overhear their conversation. They are literally one eavesdropper away from a very embarrassing scandal, this sort of discussion the thing the gossip magazines live for, and so Izuku shakes his head and thinks of the worst, least arousing thoughts he possibly can in a desperate bid to regain control.

Athlete's foot.

Trigonometry, sushi that's a couple days past its sell-by date, watching paint dry -

It works, somewhat.

While Uraraka laughs at him and sips her tea, Izuku slowly manages to get his boner to go back down, willing it away through sheer force of will. Then, with a huff and a glare that could rival Kacchan's worst scowls, he knocks back the rest of his coffee, wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, and asserts, not all that quietly, unfortunately, "I am never speaking to you again."

Uraraka laughs, delighted.

She completely ignores the startled expressions the people sitting next to them shoot their way, cooing at him as she leans over the table to pat his cheek.

"I mean it," Izuku continues. "Our friendship is over, I want my stuff back!"

"Sure," Uraraka agrees. "You can have your things. I'll even throw in a box of condoms for you, just in case you're out. So you don't have to wait, you know."

"I am -" Izuku hastily lowers his voice, leaning over the table. "I am not out of condoms."

"Oh, good!"

"And even if I was, it wouldn't matter, because nothing is going to happen!"

"Uh-huh. Sure."

"It's not -"

Izuku is saved from further argument by the timely vibrating of his phone; it buzzes several times in quick succession, and he eagerly brings it out to read his messages.

Uraraka perks up at that, her attempts to embarrass him forgotten.

"Is that Todoroki?" she asks.

"Wouldn't you like to know, former friend?"

"It is, isn't it? What did he say? Does he know you were there?"

Rolling his eyes, Izuku thumbs over to his texts; he stares down at the screen, reads them all as quickly as he can - and promptly groans into his fist at what he finds.

< Shouto <3 - 18:21 > izuku. are you home?

< Shouto <3 - 18:21 > I see groceries in the fridge and apples on the counter, but you aren't here.

< Shouto <3 - 18:22 > did you get called to the agency?

< Shouto <3 - 18:22 > if you did, you left your wallet on the coffee table.

< Shouto <3 - 18:23 > also your keys are in the hallway.

< Shouto <3 - 18:26 > sorry to double text.

Well, fuck.

So much for going under the radar, Izuku thinks. There's no way he's going to be able to hide the fact that he was in the apartment now, not if Shouto's seen the food he put away; he's going to have to come up with a reason for his hasty exit, and judging from the sound Uraraka makes at the way his face just kinda falls, she knows it well.

With a sigh, Izuku hands over the phone.

"Yeah," he murmurs. "He knows."

Uraraka hums and reads over the messages, brown eyes zooming across the screen.

"He doesn't realize you heard him, though," she points out. "It sounds like he just thinks you put the groceries away and then got called out for something, so… you could fib, if you wanted?"

Izuku bites his lip, looking up at Uraraka through the couple of stray curls that have fallen into his eyes.

"I could," he agrees. "I could - lie to him."

Uraraka hands back his phone, then sits back to cross her arms over her chest.

"Do you want to lie to him?"

"…no."

"And do you want to keep pretending you aren't hopelessly in love with him? Knowing now that he also likes you back?"

"You know I don't," Izuku replies, a little exasperated. "But Uraraka -"

"The only way you're going to get what you want is if you speak up," she points out. "You're going to have to put your big boy pants on, go back to your apartment, and tell him what you heard."

Izuku winces.

"Yeah," he mutters. "I know."

Uraraka studies him for a moment, watches the way he hangs his head. She must take pity on whatever she sees, because then she's sighing, scooching out of her chair so she can fit into the booth beside him and wrap an arm around his shoulders.

"You don't have to tell him everything you overheard," she suggests. "He doesn't need all the gory details."

Huffing out a laugh, she adds, "Honestly, I think you'd be doing Todoroki a favor if you toned it down a little bit - make him more susceptible to your charms, you know, and less likely to clam up."

Izuku snorts out a laugh.

"I kinda think he's gonna clam up regardless," he admits.

"Well, sure. You did hear the sound he makes when he cums, and also learned it's your name."

"Uraraka!"

"I'm just saying!" she shoots back with a wink.

"Well - don't!"

She laughs again, looking down at the watch on her wrist.

"Much as I'd love to keep heckling you, I have to get back to it," she says. "I'm supposed to be helping Sero and Bakugou clean up that old construction site on the edge of town. Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah. Probably. I just -" Izuku cuts himself off, twisting to face his friend. "I have to do this, don't I?"

"You do," she agrees.

Defeated, Izuku sighs. "I'll keep you posted."

Uraraka draws him into a hug, giving him a squeeze that's (truthfully) a bit too forceful.

"I'm just a phone call or text away," she reminds him. "I might not answer immediately if I'm still working, but you can always call me for backup if you need it, yeah? I'll be right there to help."

"I know. Thanks."

The smile she gives him as she steps out of their booth is kind, encouraging.

"You can do this, Deku. You got this!"

Izuku dearly wishes he shared her conviction.

"Go get your man!"

Unfortunately, he thinks, he's just not that lucky.

By the time Izuku works up the courage to go home, it's nearly eight.

Not that he really knows what to say.

He's just as clueless on that front as he had been when he'd left the apartment, the hour and a half he'd spent in the little coffee shop down the street doing nothing to calm his nerves; but the store had been about to close for the night, and there were only so many pointed looks from the staff that Izuku could endure before he got the message.

He'd cleaned up the table he'd commandeered as quickly as he could, offering up several stilted, awkward apologies to the barista as he made his way to the door; he has no plan, no talking points, absolutely no thoughts in his brain except "Don't Fuck This Up" which -

Is super helpful!

It's just great, prime, grade-A advice coming from his cerebral cortex. It gives him absolutely nothing to go off, and though he's not, like, hoping that he ruins his relationship with his best friend, he can't help but start catastrophizing on the way home.

He's already put together a list of places he can stay tonight, friends who'd take him in.

He's entirely prepared to get on his hands and knees and grovel for forgiveness -

But then again, who is he kidding?

Shouto wouldn't want him to do that. He wouldn't want Izuku to… to embarrass them both like that, or to go to such extremes in order to flagellate himself for something that he really, truly hadn't meant to do in the first place.

He's far too kind for that.

He's too understanding, always giving Izuku leeway and grace that maybe no one else in their friend group would; Izuku doesn't know if it's because he feels like he owes Izuku something, or if he truly is just that nice of a person, too pure for his own good -

Maybe, like Uraraka insists, he really is just a fucking simp.

But regardless of which is true, he knows that they'll be able to work through this; he knows, deep down, that there isn't very much of anything that could destroy the bond he and Shouto share, or damage their relationship beyond repair.

They'll get through this.

They'll manage, because they've managed everything else the world's thrown at them, and what's a little harmless masturbation between friends when you've already saved the world?

Nothing, he thinks.

It's nothing, he's making a mountain out of a mole hill here -

And yet, he still feels like he's about to throw up the second he steps into the apartment, his palms so sweaty it's a miracle he manages to pry his shoes off at the door.

His heart races as he walks down the hall; his heart is in his fucking throat.

But Shouto is just sitting calmly on the couch.

He's cuddled up into one corner, with a book in his hands and a cozy knit blanket strewn across his lap, looking for all the world like someone enjoying a nice night in - which he probably is, Izuku reminds himself, recalling how Shouto had spent the better part of the morning on duty. He's probably just sat down to relax, the cup of tea he's got on the coffee table still steaming lightly.

God, Izuku's gonna ruin his whole fucking evening, isn't he?

Nice, he thinks with a wince. Nice.

He must make some sort of noise to accompany his grimace, because Shouto looks up suddenly, lips parting in surprise. Then, when he recognizes it's Izuku, he smiles.

"Oh," he offers. "Welcome back."

"Hi," Izuku replies, his voice cracking. "Um, yes! Hello, Shouto, I - hi there."

"…hello, Izuku," Shouto drawls again, smile deepening.

With a groan, Izuku drags himself further into the room and plops down on the couch.

Shouto pulls his feet out of the way just in time, curling his knees up a bit so that Izuku has plenty of room. He fixes Izuku with a curious sort of look at how he kind of melts back into the cushions, like if he sinks back far enough, he'll just slip out of sight, and tucks his fingers into the book to hold his place.

"That was very dramatic," he points out.

Izuku huffs out a breath, playfully smacking his shin.

"Ow," Shouto complains. "My leg."

"Oh, shut up. That didn't hurt."

Shouto moves a hand to clutch at his knee, his book abandoned. He pretends to inspect the limb, as if he's assessing it for damage, and then makes a mournful noise, staring Izuku right in the eye as he says, "I think it's fatal," in the most deadpan tone Izuku's ever heard.

"Again," Izuku says, rolling his eyes, "you'll survive."

"Mmm. If you say so."

"I do." Then, taking a deep breath, Izuku says, "I need to talk to you."

Shouto's head tilts to the side; he blinks at Izuku, all long and slow like a cat, and points out, "You're already talking to me."

"That's not - I need to talk to you about something else."

"Something important?" Shouto guesses.

Izuku clears his throat.

"Yeah, it's - you could say that, I guess," he says, fiddling with his hands. "It's… kinda sensitive?"

"Oh. Alright."

"And I need you to promise me something, okay?" Izuku pauses, swallowing. "I need you to promise that you'll hear me out before you - get upset or anything. Just listen to everything I have to say, and let me get it out, and then you can - I dunno, yell at me or something. Throw me out on my ass."

"Izuku," Shouto says, admonishing.

He winces, shoulders hunching up a bit.

"I know," he says quickly. "I know you wouldn't - do that. But you also don't know what I'm gonna say, so…"

"It can't be that bad," Shouto replies.

For the first time that night, Izuku looks up at his friend; he looks him right in the eye, instead of letting his gaze drift away, and says, "It could be, I think. Maybe."

Shouto stares at him for a moment, considering.

"Well, now I'm curious," he finally admits, and like - yeah, he probably is.

He's probably super curious, because Izuku's come a long way from the fumbling, easily flustered kid he'd been when they were in high school. He's got a decade of hero experience under his belt at this point, is familiar with all kinds of precarious situations, and while Izuku wouldn't ever claim to be smooth, he likes to think he's achieved some level of self-assuredness over the past few years.

But this is different, Izuku thinks.

This is the moment when he puts all his cards on the table, his chance at telling Shouto how he really feels - how could he not be nervous? How could he not be a little keyed up?

Rather than beat around the bush though, he decides to go for it. He decides right then and there to be as upfront as possible, because that's what Shouto would do if their situations were reversed; he'd tell Izuku the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it made him, and Izuku owes him no less.

"Okay, so… you remember what you texted me earlier? About the groceries?"

Shouto nods. "I had one of the apples."

"I got back at about five-thirty and put everything away. That's why the kitchen's full. I didn't say hello because I assumed you were still on patrol; like, the lights were off and the apartment was quiet, but… then I heard a noise."

"…a noise."

Izuku nods. "Yeah, like… heavy breathing?"

Then, shaking his head a little, he explains, "I couldn't tell where it was coming from, though, or what it was, and since you weren't around, I… kinda panicked and thought it was a burglar? Like, the front door was locked and none of the windows looked compromised, but I didn't know what else to think, because again, I didn't think you were here, and I knew it wasn't me -"

"Izuku."

"Right!" Izuku clears his throat again. "Right okay, so - anyways, I tracked the noise to your room. I figured out where it was coming from, and then realized… it wasn't a thief at all. Because it was you."

Shouto blinks. "Me?"

"Yes, you were - you were in your room. You were, um… doing stuff, like - with your hands? Fuck, no, no, no, that's not - I didn't mean it like that, and I definitely didn't see anything, I just meant you were - well, I mean, you were - oh god, there's really no other way to put this, is there? I'm pretty sure you were -"

"Masturbating?" Shouto offers.

Izuku croaks.

He slaps a hand to his face, his cheeks on fire, and says, completely mortified, "Um, yes. I think so."

For a moment, Shouto doesn't say anything. He just sits there and stares at Izuku, like it's taking a moment for his words to really hit home, for the idea to fully process. Then -

"Ah," he says, nodding. "I see."

"I'm sorry," Izuku says in a rush, pulling back the hand he'd stretched out on instinct to comfort Shouto in case he doesn't want him anywhere near him. "I'm so, so sorry, Shouto, I didn't - I mean, once I realized what you were doing, I left, because that doesn't seem like the kinda thing you want other people to hear, but… you, um, said my name? You kinda - moaned it, so like, it caught me off guard, and I kind of - I mean, it wasn't on purpose, it really wasn't, but I might have -"

"Liked it?"

For the second time that day, Izuku panics.

He leaps off the couch, does a quick lap or two around the room - and then he gives in to the urge to bury his face in one of the cushions he's inadvertently tossed to the floor, whisper-screaming into its pillowy depths until he feels like he can talk again.

It takes him a few good minutes to settle down.

Shouto ultimately ends up sliding down onto the floor to join him, his blanket pooling like liquid in his lap; he plucks Izuku up by the arms, reminding him to breathe even as he urges him to lean back against the coffee table for support, which - is really nice of him!

It's very kind, and also considerate, since Izuku's just admitted to listening to him jerk off.

Izuku's not certain he'd be so unflappable were their positions reversed, and so he chances a glance up at his friend, tries to determine what it is he must be thinking -

But Shouto's face is as impassive as ever.

He looks neither upset nor mad nor particularly happy, and while Izuku is… glad to know that his revelation isn't being met with immediate and visceral disgust, he's also not sure he can really chalk this one up to a win. Not yet, not if Shouto doesn't say something else.

Is he angry? Flabbergasted?

He finally opens his mouth to speak, and Izuku flinches, braces himself for impact -

"Izuku. Did you like it?"

Shouto seems to steel himself, his jaw flexing a little as he comes to some sort of decision. Before Izuku can really clock what he's doing, he's shuffling a little closer; he's leaning forward, their legs brushing as Shouto settles himself around Izuku, his long legs bracketing his knees and his arms caging him in.

"Did you enjoy listening to me?" he presses. "Did it make you hard?"

"Oh, my god," Izuku wheezes. "Oh, my god, I -"

A warm hand trails up his thigh, settles tentatively on his hip. A couple of Shouto's fingers inadvertantly push up the fabric of his shirt, his thumb brushing against bare skin, and that's -

Okay, so like.

There's really only one way to take that, right? There's only one way to interpret that kind of touch? Izuku can't claim to be any sort of expert when it comes to romance or sex, but he's not totally oblivious.

He's not stupid.

"Izuku," Shouto says gently, imploring. "Did you -"

"Yes," he finally manages to gasp out. "Yes, I liked it, I - I like you, Shouto, and I'm so -"

Warm lips press against his.

A tongue flicks against the seam of his mouth, sharp teeth scraping against sensitive skin; the spark of pleasure that licks down Izuku's spine is electric, heady, and while a part of Izuku's mind starts to freak out, like, immediately, because Shouto is kissing him - kissing him, him, Izuku Midoriya - it's easy enough to shut out the protests. It's easy enough to drown them all out, because the way Shouto's mouth presses against his feels so damn good, so right -

He doesn't think he'll ever get enough of it.

Izuku melts into Shouto's hold, not protesting at all when Shouto hoists himself up and into his lap proper, when he wraps his hands around the back of Izuku's neck and tugs him in close.

Shouto kisses him with purpose, with intent.

He kisses Izuku like he never wants to stop, and when Izuku starts to kiss him back, when he brings a tentative hand up to Shouto's jaw, cradling his face in his palm, he makes a low, soft sound that has Izuku's breath hitching in his throat.

He wants to hear it again.

He wants to see if he can make it louder, and so he kisses Shouto 'til he's breathless, wrapping his other arm around his waist and giving in to the feel of this, to the moment.

"I like you, too," Shouto breathes, pressing the words directly into his lips. "I like you - Izuku."

He breaks off with a whimper as Izuku nips at his lip, steam leaking from the corners of his mouth; it's hot, hot, hot on Izuku's tongue, not quite scalding.

Izuku has to pull back a little so he doesn't get burnt, and when he chances a glance up -

"God," he groans, taking in the flush staining Shouto's cheeks, the way his eyes have gone dark around the edges, just from a little kissing. "God, Shouto - look at you. You're so…"

"Hot?" Shouto guesses, impish.

"Beautiful," Izuku corrects.

Shouto snorts, arms coming up to lace around Izuku's shoulders. He flushes even pinker with the praise, rolling his eyes even as his lips curl up into a soft, happy smile, and oh -

Izuku is in big love.

"I'll take your word for it," Shouto murmurs, pressing another kiss to Izuku's lips, to his jaw.

Izuku shivers under the touch, runs his hand from Shouto's face down to his chest; his heart is racing under his palm, the left side of his body so, so warm - it only grows hotter as Shouto starts to mouth at his neck, as his tongue licks up the column of his throat and rasps over the barest trace of stubble that Izuku hadn't bothered to shave off that morning, and when Izuku palms his back, pressing gently against his spine, forcing him forward, hoarfrost starts to drip from his fingers.

"You should," Izuku pants. "You should - I am a very reliable narrator."

Shouto hums at that.

In one quick movement, he pushes Izuku backwards until he's lying against the floor; then, slinking up a little so that he's straddling Izuku's hips, he leans over him and smirks, mischief gleaming in his eyes.

It's a good view, Izuku thinks.

It's a great view, and his dick, trapped between his thigh and Shouto's, very much agrees.

"I think a reliable narrator would have told me he was in love with me," Shouto points out, tugging his lower lip between his teeth as his eyes rake over Izuku's frame. "I think they would have spoken up."

Izuku's hands settle on his waist, squeeze at it a little.

"Maybe they were waiting for the right moment," he retorts. "Maybe they were just… waiting for a sign that their feelings were returned, and when they didn't get that..."

Shouto's smirk shifts a bit, turns a little more sincere.

"Izuku," he murmurs, thumbing at Izuku's cheek. Though his tone is reproachful, his eyes are not; he holds Izuku's gaze as he leans down and kisses him again, and this time it's soft and sweet.

Izuku sighs into his mouth, holds him there for a moment. Then -

"I have been waiting for you to make a move on me since high school," Shouto admits, pressing their foreheads together.

Reeling, Izuku's eyes go wide. "What, for real?"

"I was so obvious," Shouto says, a little pained.

"You - you were not!"

"There was a group chat - a monthly support group, where Uraraka, Ashido, and Momo got together and told me that I needed to either tell you how I felt or move on."

"Wait, that was - that's a real thing?"

Shouto pulls back and shoots him a very flat look.

"I mean, Uraraka mentioned a group chat, and then she said something about my habit of ripping my hero costumes, and maybe my thighs, but I thought she was - you know," Izuku says hastily.

"No, Izuku," Shouto drawls. "I don't know."

Izuku winces. "Exaggerating."

To his surprise, Shouto groans. He twists to the side and blows out another cloud of steam, another of those soft, little sounds spilling from his throat, and is that -

Oh, god, it is.

It is, that is Shouto's cock pressing insistently against his hip, and it is - hard.

"She's not," Shouto mutters. "She's not exaggerating, she isn't - I love your thighs."

As if to demonstrate, he snakes a hand down and grabs one, groping at the thick muscle and making a rough, appreciative noise. He digs his fingers in tight, presses himself a little closer -

"I want them to suffocate me."

"S-Shouto!"

Pulling back, Shouto blinks at him, nonplussed.

"I can think of no better way to die," he intones, and Izuku, helpless, just kind of chokes.

He splutters and goes very red, even as his traitorous cock kicks in his pants at the mere thought of wrapping his legs around Shouto's head, of having Shouto's face crammed between his thighs and maybe also his mouth around Izuku's dick.

Like, that would be pretty great.

It'd be fantastic, probably one of the greatest experiences of his life thus far, and so he grabs at Shouto's face and smashes their mouths back together before he can say something stupid and put such a lovely possibility into jeopardy. He kisses Shouto silly, licking into his mouth with a little more urgency than before - and then, when Shouto whines and rolls his hips, tosses his head back with a moan.

"Okay, so, what if, instead of dying - "

Shouto presses his face to Izuku's neck, breathing him in, and Izuku goes quiet.

His breath is hot and damp against Izuku's skin, and his teeth - he nips and sucks and bites his way up Izuku's throat, not pulling away until he's sucked a very dark, very visible mark into the skin just under his jaw. There's no way Izuku's going to be able to hide it, not even with the tube of concealer poor Hana's given him for occasions exactly such as this, and that's -

Well, Izuku can't help but think that maybe that's the point.

Shouto bites him again, right at the hollow at the base of his throat, and Izuku gasps, hands flexing where they curl around Shouto's waist; though Shouto's complained that he has no shape to speak of, that he's broad and boxy like his father, but with less of his massive bulk, Izuku loves how strong he feels beneath his fingers, how solid. It's grounding, and also really, really hot, and so he slips his hands beneath Shouto's shirt, lets his hands grip at him as Shouto ravages his neck.

He grabs at his waist, runs his fingers across the plane of his abdominals.

He traces the line of his Adonis belt, thumbs at the thin trail of hair leading down from his navel; he wonders (vaguely) whether or not it matches the hair on his head, and when even that curiosity fails to deter him from his quest, he seeks out his ultimate prize and reaches down to palm his ass.

This time, he feels rather than hears Shouto's breath hitch.

When he squeezes Shouto's ass again, he's rewarded with a soft, breathless moan, Shouto's lips going slack against him, and so Izuku repeats the motion, rapt.

"Izuku," he groans, pushing back into the touch. "Fuck, Izuku -"

"Good?"

Shouto hums and rolls his hips, sliding forward against Izuku's cock and then back against his hands.

He repeats the motion several times, falling into a slow, almost agonizing rhythm that has Izuku's toes curling in his socks and his dick leaking in his boxers, and like -

This is good.

It's fantastic, the way Shouto feels against him so, so good, but - he still thinks it would be better in a bed.

He's not convinced that having sex on the hardwood floor is a good idea, not if he wants to maintain the structural integrity of his vertebra, and so he forces Shouto to a stop, relinquishing his grasp on his hips and pushing up onto his elbows to grab Shouto's attention.

"Then can we - can I take you to bed, can I -"

"Yes," Shouto breathes, leaning in to steal another kiss. "Yes, please."

"Okay," Izuku pants, kissing him back just as hard, just as desperate. Shouto, he's finding, is a terrible distraction from any and all cognitive processes. "Okay, let's - do you want to go to your room or mine?"

Shouto shrugs, unbothered by the question -

And Izuku snorts out a fond sort of laugh, carefully wrapping an arm around Shouto as he pushes to his feet, urging his legs up and around his waist for balance. He doesn't miss the way Shouto's eyes widen at the blatant display of strength, or how he licks his lips and crowds in close; he likes this, Izuku realizes.

He likes being picked up, likes being manhandled like he weighs next to nothing.

Izuku preens and plans to make good use of this very pertinent information.

"That wasn't an answer, you know," he reminds Shouto as he pads towards the hall.

Petulant, Shouto rolls his eyes, and goes back to kissing at Izuku's neck.

"Your room," he murmurs. "Your bed is bigger."

Izuku nods and turns to the right, letting go of Shouto with his one hand so he can twist the knob.

"Also, my sheets are dirty from earlier and I haven't done laundry."

Izuku groans, going a little weak in the knees as he recalls how exactly Shouto had dirtied those sheets, what he'd been doing that would result in a need for a change of bedding.

He stumbles into the room, one of his socks catching on the edge of the carpet and whines.

"Shouto," he says, dropping to his knees at the foot of the bed. He lets go of Shouto right before he's about to hit the mattress, relishing the way he plops down into the softness with a low, quiet oomph. "You can't just - you can't just say those things!"

Shouto lifts an eyebrow, tugging his shirt up and off his shoulders.

"Don't you want to know what I was doing?" he asks, coy. "Aren't you curious?"

Izuku crawls up the length of his body, admiring the view stretched out before him. He brackets Shouto's head with his hands and tries not to drool as he leans in close, stealing another kiss.

"I know what you were doing," he says. "You were - you were jerking off."

Shouto's hands settle on his face, holding him close.

"But don't you want to know how?" he breathes.

Fuck.

Fuck, yeah, he does.

He says as much, and Shouto chuckles, thumbing at Izuku's cheek even as he tugs at Izuku's shirt, getting it up and over his shoulders without much work.

"I like being fucked," he says with little preamble, absolutely no buildup, like he hasn't just sent Izuku's heart rate hurtling towards a flatline. "I like how it - feels, more than I like being on top."

"Oh," Izuku breathes, rapt. His cock is so hard it hurts. "Oh, that's - I can work with that."

"Earlier, when you… heard me, that's what I was doing. I had a toy, and I was pretending it was you."

Izuku had assumed as much. He'd known, and yet -

"Wow," he says, hanging his head and biting his lip as he tries to will himself not to cum, like, instantly. "That's - wow, that is a lot to hear, but I'm - I'm flattered?"

Shouto hooks his hands into his pants and pushes, kicks his sweats down until they're hanging around his ankles; Izuku's only a little surprised to see he's not wearing anything underneath, and when his eyes flick down, landing between his thighs and settling on his dick, he groans.

"Oh, fuck."

He's big, Izuku sees, and long - longer than Izuku probably, though not so thick around.

He's also incredibly hard, the pink head of his cock already wet and smeared with precum; it pokes out of his foreskin when he snakes a hand down and strokes himself, and Izuku wants to lick it. He needs it in his face and on his tongue, and since that's something he feels like he's allowed now, and also something Shouto would maybe enjoy -

"Izuku," Shouto gasps, his entire body going taut as Izuku sucks his dick.

Izuku's only response is a hum; he glances up at Shouto briefly, to see if this is okay - and when Shouto just fists a hand in his hair and pushes him down, urging him on, he gets to work.

He licks at him long and slow, pumping his hand along the portion he can't fit in his mouth; the feel of Shouto against his tongue as he moves is so, so good, heavy and hot. Izuku can't help but groan a little as he takes Shouto's cock to the hilt; he presses his face to his groin, breathes in the scent of him -

And then he retreats, popping back up to suck on his tip.

In no time, Shouto is trembling beneath him.

He's shaking, thighs clenched tight around Izuku's chest, and when the grip on his hair goes painful, icy fingers snagging in tangled curls, Izuku pops off with an obscene, wet smack.

"Good?" he asks, licking his lips.

Shouto doesn't relinquish his grip on him, staring down at where Izuku sits between his thighs.

Instead, he brings a hand up, sliding a finger through the spit lingering on his chin; slick as it is, it's all too easy for him to slip the finger into Izuku's mouth, to hook it around the edge of his cheek and pull.

Izuku catches it with his teeth, closing his lips around the digit and sucking, hard -

And Shouto whines, jerking his hand away with a rough, harsh noise even as his dick twitches in Izuku's grasp, betraying his interest.

"Fuck, Izuku," he pants, groaning when Izuku leans in and swipes his tongue across his slit, licking up the liquid beading at the tip. "Your mouth."

Izuku grins and licks him again.

Shouto shivers, yanking him away.

He yanks him up, tugs him up high enough that he can crash their mouths together; Izuku briefly wonders whether he can taste himself on his tongue, if that's something that Shouto's into - but then Shouto is tugging at his pants, his fingers scrabbling uselessly with the tie.

"Take these off," he demands. "Now, please."

Izuku huffs out a laugh, batting his hands away so he can undo the knot himself.

"You're kinda bossy in bed," he points out.

Shouto's nose wrinkles at how slowly he undoes his pants - or maybe that's just Izuku's assessment.

Either way, he makes a low, rough grunt, eyes narrowed, and says, "I said please."

His pants finally free, Izuku kicks them off and leans in for another kiss, placating.

"So you did! And it's not a bad thing," he says, sighing when Shouto slips a hand into his boxers, when he reaches in and pulls his cock out. "It's - ah - good actually? Because it lets me know you like what we're doing, and also what you want, and fuck, that's good, that's really good, don't - don't stop, oh -"

Shouto strokes him, hard.

He twists his hand just right, thumbing at the sensitive skin beneath his tip, and Izuku keens.

But just as quickly as it had started, the pressure's gone.

Shouto's moved his hand away in favor of grabbing at his face, pulling him up and out of Shouto's neck; he presses a wet, sloppy kiss to his lips, and the noise that spills from his lips is incredibly needy.

"I want to cum with you inside me," he says, and like -

Izuku can make that happen!

He can do that, he is - more than happy to do whatever Shouto wants, whatever he asks, and so he reaches over to the nightstand to grab the box of condoms he knows he has stashed there, the half-empty bottle of lube rattling around in the back. He brings both back with him, popping the cap on the bottle so he can spread it around on his fingers.

But Shouto stops him as he reaches to spread his thighs.

He shakes his head, pulling out one of the condoms instead, and says, "You don't need to prep me."

Izuku blinks at him, long and slow.

"Yes, I do," he asserts. "I have to - I don't want to hurt you."

Shouto curls a hand around the back of his neck, drawing him in close.

"You won't," he breathes, tearing open the foil. He slips the condom over the head of Izuku's cock, smoothing it down in one slow, practiced movement, and adds, "I'm still - ready, from earlier."

"Oh," Izuku says, a little stupid. "Well. Alright, I guess."

Shouto snorts, kissing him again as Izuku brings his hand to his cock instead. He waits until Izuku is finished, wiping the excess on his pants, and then glances up at him through his lashes.

"How do you want me?" he murmurs.

Izuku bites his lip, not quite stifling his whimper.

Because the truth is, he wants Shouto every possible way he can have him - against the wall, maybe, or bent over the back of the couch. On his hands and knees, with his face presssed down into the mattress, and also with Shouto riding him into oblivion, hands wrapping around the curves of his headboard as he fucks himself on Izuku's cock.

Now that he knows Shouto wants him back, the possiblities are endless.

But for the first, arguably most important time they have sex…

"Like this," he ultimately says, wrapping his hands around Shouto's thighs, pushing them open. He urges Shouto's hands down to help hold them in place, and once he's got him where he wants him, he nods. "I want to see your face."

Shouto flushes, though whether it's from what Izuku said or being so exposed, it's hard to say.

The way pink spills across his cheeks, fanning down and across his chest, is nothing short of beautiful, and with a groan, Izuku leans forward, lining himself up as he presses their foreheads together.

"Ready?" he asks, shuddering at the way his cock catches on Shouto's rim, how he can't help but press inside just that tiniest little bit, the warmth of him immediately overwhelming.

Shouto raises a tremulous hand to his face, presses it against his cheek.

Though he's starting to pant, there's a slight crease to his brow; his forehead is damp with sweat, red and white hair curling in the heat, and he's squirming from where Izuku is just barely inside him.

"Izuku," he whines. "I have been waiting for this for years. Stop being coy and fuck me."

And Izuku can take a hint!

He really can, because he's great at listening, and also a generous lover, so.

He pushes the rest of the way inside, bottoming out in one long, hard thrust; instead of giving Shouto time to adjust, he just fucks his hips forward, swallowing down the lengthy, drawn-out gasp that punches its way out of Shouto's lungs, and then does it again, and again, and again.

The sound his hips make as they smack into Shouto's thighs is obscene, lewd.

But Shouto doesn't seem the least bit concerned, the way he clutches at Izuku's shoulders and pushes back to meet him a clear sign that he's enjoying himself. He is a wreck, a string of broken moans and breathy, high-pitched cries pouring from his throat; Izuku doesn't think he's ever seen anything prettier, mesmerized by the way Shouto's falling apart beneath him, and when he pushes forward a bit, supporting himself on one arm so he can push Shouto's ankles up and above his ears with the other, he's pretty sure he just - straight up ascends.

"Shouto," he pants. "Oh, my god, Shouto, baby -"

"Don't stop," Shouto begs, tears starting to leak from his eyes. "Please, Izuku, it's so - so good."

Izuku leans down to kiss him, needing to kiss him.

He needs to feel Shouto's mouth on his as he fucks him into the mattress, and even though neither of them are really capable of much skill at this point, though it very quickly devolves into nothing more than the two of them panting into each other's mouths, it is - perfect.

It's so good, better than anything Izuku could have predicted.

Shouto is so hot and velvety around his cock, so fucking tight; he makes the prettiest faces, his usual stoic expression fucked straight out of his existence, and the way he sounds…

Izuku shifts his hips, then, aiming for one particular spot.

It takes him a couple of tries to find it, but when he does, angling his hips just right, Shouto just kind of - freezes beneath him, his eyes going very, very wide.

Then he's sobbing, the pleasure literally bringing him to tears as Izuku hits his prostate, again and again.

"Please," he whines, locking his ankles into place behind Izuku's neck in an impressive (hot) display of flexibility and muscle control. "Please, Izuku, touch me, please, please, please -"

"I've got you," Izuku pants, reaching a hand down between them.

Shouto groans when he wraps his fingers around his cock, seemingly torn between thrusting up into his hand or continuing to press back against him. He makes a frustrated noise, beseeching as he stares up at Izuku, and when Izuku takes pity on him, grinding in hard on his next thrust even as he encourages Shouto to buck up into his fist, to chase that friction, the relief in his voice is obvious.

It's so apparent, and also very, very attractive, the way he writhes beneath Izuku.

He doesn't think he'll ever get tired of it, doesn't he'll ever tire of Shouto -

And when Shouto drags him back down into a kiss, when he chokes and sputters out his name like a prayer as his orgasm hits him with near blinding force, he knows it's something he'll never forget.

"Izuku," he gasps, spilling over Izuku's fist. "Izuku, Izuku, Izuku -"

"Holy fuck, Shouto," Izuku breathes.

His movements slow for a moment, just enough that he can watch the face Shouto makes as he cums; it's just as pretty as the way it sounds when he says Izuku's name, and it's with no small amount of awe that he watches Shouto go limp against the blankets, his legs slipping free as he gasps for breath.

"Fuck," Shouto agrees, once he can speak again. He brushes his sweaty bangs up and out of his face, biting his lip as he stares at up Izuku; it's unfairly attractive, even now, and Izuku kind of hates him for it.

"You're beautiful," he breathes, leaning down to catch his lips in a kiss. "You're stunning, amazing, that was - that was so good, Shouto, I can't -"

Shouto huffs out a laugh, a little bashful.

"Was it?" he drawls, shimmying his hips a little in a blatant reminder that Izuku has yet to cum, that he's still achingly hard where he sits inside Shouto. "You didn't finish."

Izuku chokes, his hips snapping forward of their own volition.

The movement draws another groan out of Shouto, this one born of deep, deep satiation; Izuku glances down at him in apology, ready to pull out and finish himself off -

But Shouto just tugs him in closer, grabbing him by the face and pressing another kiss to his mouth.

"Are you close?" he asks, nipping at Izuku's lip.

Izuku nods, unable to resist grinding in a little harder.

"Keep going, then," Shouto breathes. "Keep fucking me, I - I can take it."

With a groan, Izuku complies; he starts thrusting into Shouto again, his movements short and sharp. He chases his own pleasure this time, takes everything Shouto is willing to give him -

And when he finally spills into the condom, his hips stuttering with the force of his own release, it's Shouto's hands on his face, Shouto kissing him through it as he comes down.

It's… surprisingly sweet, given how frantically they'd gone at it before. Soft, gentle.

When Izuku pulls back enough that he can glance down, it's only to find Shouto smiling up at him, his lips stretched wider than Izuku's ever seen before.

"What're you so happy about?" he teases, momentarily sliding free so he can take the condom off.

He collapses next to Shouto with a groan once he's gotten it tied up and thrown away, a little cold where the sweat's starting to dry on his body - but then warm arms surround him, wrapping around him and pulling him close, a pair of lips pressing at his temple.

"You," Shouto replies, in that simple, easy way of this. "You make me happy."

Fuck, he's so cute.

He's so cute Izuku could squeal - which he does, actually, because Shouto's hands land on a ticklish spot on his side, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin for a moment before he relents.

"You make me happy, too," he admits. "Like - you make me so happy, Shouto, I love you so, so much, and - you know that, right? You know that I want… this, whatever it is?"

Shouto nods.

"It's not just a one-time thing?"

The hands on his waist squeeze, Shouto's brows drawing down into a frown.

"I should hope not," he muses. "Considering I just confessed to having a decade-long crush on you."

Izuku's smile is small, a little teasing. "You did, didn't you?"

Shouto groans and buries his face into Izuku's hair.

"Don't make fun of me," he whines.

"Shouto, I would never - but I am, um, a little curious why you never said anything?" Izuku clears his throat, running his hand up Shouto's back until he can rest it on his shoulder. "I mean, if I'm being honest, I think I've liked you for almost as long; I've wanted to date you since we were kids, but I just… I guess it didn't ever seem like you were interested in me that way."

That catches Shouto's attention.

He pulls back with a frown, lips parting in surprise; then, very slowly, he says, "Izuku."

"Yes?"

"There was a group chat - dedicated to your thighs."

"You keep saying that," Izuku huffs. "You know I wasn't actually in the group chat, right?"

Then, because he's curious, he asks, "What did you all even talk about? Other than my thighs, obviously, which I'm assuming Momo and Uraraka weren't super interested in. Like, was it just to vent?"

"Sometimes," Shouto admits, nodding. "Though it wasn't always about you and I; sometimes, Momo would talk about Kyouka, or Uraraka about Tsuyu."

"What about Mina?"

Shouto shakes his head.

"Ashido just wanted to be a part of things," he says.

"Ah."

"She does give good advice, though. Except when it comes to alcohol." Shouto tries (and fails) to suppress a little shiver, eyes momentarily squeezing shut as he recalls some memory Izuku isn't privy to. "She cannot be trusted when it comes to vodka."

Izuku doesn't doubt it.

He only has a few hazy memories of his first time drinking alcohol, but all of them are vaguely unpleasant and all of them involve Mina Ashido and Denki Kaminari.

"Well, what did they say about me? About us," he clarifies, when Shouto looks at him again. "Did they have any specific advice, or was it, you know - generic?"

Shouto considers this for a moment, pausing briefly to kiss Izuku again.

It's a little like he can't stay away, and while Izuku likes that, obviously, he would also like to get to the bottom of things! He'd like some answers before he can get distracted again, and so he gently pushes at Shouto's chest, fixing him with a keen eye as he repeats the question.

"Generic, for the most part. I never found it particularly useful. Momo and Ashido told me my chances were good, and that they thought you returned my feelings," Shouto says, unimpressed at Izuku's attempts to keep him focused. "Uraraka was a little more helpful, though; she told me I was going to have to be more upfront if I wanted you to understand. She said I had to work harder when I mentioned that I was tired of dating people who weren't you."

"Oh? Y-you said that?"

"Mmm. A few months ago."

Something warm and gooey blooms in Izuku's chest at the admission; he smiles even though Shouto can't see it, never so happy to have been wrong about something in his life -

"She seemed to think I was going to have to escalate things. She didn't believe you'd ever make a move on your own, and then she called you terminally dense and told me to give it my all."

Izuku is - a little stunned at that.

He kind of freezes in Shouto's hold, so surprised he can't even remember to be offended.

"Wait," he says slowly. "What?"

"She said I had to take my attempts to woo you to the next level," Shouto explains.

"Is that - is that why you were jerking off to me? Is that - did you plan this?"

"Of course not," he says, relief instantly flooding Izuku. "I had no way of knowing when you'd be home today, or that you'd come down the hall right as I was finishing. Today was just a coincidence."

Izuku swallows. "Right."

"I do jerk off to you all the time, though. Because you are very attractive and I have feelings for you," Shouto very helpfully adds, and Izuku -

"Oh," he breathes, kinda dumb. "Cool."

The dazed tone of voice he's employed must alarm Shouto, for his twists towards Izuku with a frown.

"Is that… alright?" he asks, tentative. "I would have asked, but that doesn't seem like the sort of thing you bring up over dinner. I didn't want to startle you."

"It's not," Izuku confirms with a croak. "It's really, really not."

Then, realizing Shouto's still kinda waiting for an answer, he nods, offering up what he hopes is a convincing smile. "But I don't mind. You can think of me when you - when you touch yourself. I mean, if we're together, I think that's kind of the expectation, and we… we're… we are together, right?"

Shouto nods, solemn. "I want to be."

Izuku's expression softens, some last bit of tension in his chest easing with the admission.

"I want that, too," he says. "I really - I really want that, Shouto."

Shouto snuggles in closer at that, chasing another kiss. He presses their lips together, hums his satisfaction directly into Izuku's mouth even as he rolls them over so that he's blanketing Izuku with his body, lying atop him in the most satisfying way imaginable.

"Good," he says, once they break apart. "I'm glad we figured this out."

Izuku snorts, fond, and raises a hand to his cheek.

"You're such a dork," he teases.

Shouto pouts and nips at his fingers, settling his chin in the divot of Izuku's sternum.

"Like, no one would ever know it, because you're so reserved, but those of us who know you well?" Izuku shakes his head, grinning. "Total dork. Big nerd."

"The only nerd here is you," Shouto shoots back.

Izuku makes a wounded noise, pressing his free hand to his chest.

"Wow," he says. "Straight to the heart, Shouto - tell me how you really feel!"

Again, soft lips press against his.

Shouto's mouth moves against his, warm and sweet, and though Izuku laughs into the kiss at first, though he pinches at Shouto's sides and tangles their fingers together, it's perfect. It's everything he's ever wanted, entirely within his grasp - 

And that, Izuku thinks with a happy little hum, is a beautiful thing.