Work Text:
Present Mic was the first teacher to like Izuku.
Or at least, the first one to like him after he was diagnosed quirkless.
The preschool teachers who knew him before his diagnosis liked him just fine. They encouraged him, praised him, complimented his drawings and how good he was at sharing. They let him eat lunch with them when the other kids were in foul moods and stepped in when the other kids got too rough.
He remembered playing with toys and other boys demanding them, pitching fits and crying and the teachers siding with Izuku, telling them to ask politely, to use your words. Izuku remembered how fast he was to give other kids the things that belonged to him (his pencils, his seat, his snacks) and basking in the teacher's relief when the tantrums would end. Praise for being selfless. Praise for being mature. He was so good at sharing. He made their day easier, he was a delight to have in class, oh Midoriya-san we almost don’t want to let him graduate, I wish I had one of him in every class!
Their behavior didn’t really change at all before and after the diagnosis. Maybe that was the difference. The secret code to seeing him as a human being was to see him that way first.
The next year up, and through the rest of grade school, the teachers didn’t have that context. He came to them quirkless and so that was all he would ever be. He could tell they weren’t interested in teaching him. He would never amount to anything. Izuku was a waste of their time— not worth the school supplies spent on him or the breath it took to call his name.
Middle school was worse. Izuku knew to expect nothing but even the chair he occupied seemed to be too good for him. Rather than ignoring or only half answering his questions teachers would instead get angry . Instead of ignoring bullying they would join in.
Then came All Might and well- he was amazing , something out of a dream, but they only ever met in secret for the entire 9 months that they trained together. Even as that training made his body stronger, his muscles sore, it never really felt real. Like he walked out of school in the afternoon and simply disassociated for two hours before returning home. An impossible dream to get himself through the day. A fantasy he cooked up so that he would have a reason to get out of bed. Izuku wasn't a stranger to maladaptive dreaming, after all. He had spent most of his childhood perfecting the art of simply unfocusing his eyes and going somewhere else— somewhere where the people there wanted him.
So even though he knows that his mentorship with All Might is real it never really feels real. All Might isn’t a teacher, he’s not family, he’s a secret third thing, not yet defined. A hero, sure, but heroes were by-design people who could not be close to you on an individual level. It was a one-way street. Izuku gave them his feelings and they said ‘thank you for your support,’ through blindingly white smiles before turning their backs on pay those feelings out to whoever needed them more.
‘You’re pretty tiny, huh ?’ All Might would laugh, sitting back and watching as Izuku struggled to clean the beach, or wandering off to talk to fans that recognized him, chastising him every time he fell.
And that was fine. Of course it was fine!. They worked hard and saved people that needed it, and Izuku didn’t need saving. Not in the same way at least— it was just a selfish little feeling that he tried to push down. He didn’t need All Mights undivided attention. He was good at sharing. He always had been.
Helping to facilitate other people’s happiness was more rewarding than his own.
His first day at UA felt like a continuation of his downward trend. The first time he felt Aizawa’s eyes in him he could sense that familiar distaste, that irritation, coming off of him in waves. The feeling of ‘you’re wasting my time ’, mixed with ‘you shouldn’t be here, that space doesn’t belong to you ’. Except this time it was personal— not because he is quirkless, but because of him as a person. Down and down and down, every teacher was always worse, every teacher wanted him gone.
It feels pointless after a lifetime of failure but still Izuku tries his best.
He listens to what Aizawa says, he internalizes, does what he asks, rips the smallest part of himself to pieces for the man’s approval—
And he gets it.
For the first time a teacher smiles at him, and doesn't say anything like ‘good job ’ Izuku can tell that he earned his approval.
He rides that high all the way through the rest of the class, buoyed a bit by adrenaline and endorphins, and even though Aizawa has the perfect excuse to expel him— something a long line of teachers would have done anything to achieve— he doesn’t take it.
Izuku does not delude himself into thinking he’s liked or wanted, but just the warm blanket of ‘ not hated’ is something he never before felt was achievable.
So it was understandable when, on the second day, he meets Present Mic and is a little overwhelmed.
Present Mic wasn’t the nicest teacher in the world. He didn’t coddle the students who struggled. He didn’t keep to professional boundaries either, even finding clear delight in making fun of his students and he never missed an opportunity to talk about himself, even though few students in 1A seemed to have heard of him. Despite all of that, he had very high expectations and would get irritated when a student expressed that his subject was unimportant to hero work. If they complained he wasn’t afraid to throw around detention slips or to punish students with extra work or to make them stand up in class.
Present Mic wasn’t an easy or soft teacher.
But Present Mic liked Izuku.
It’s shocking the first time he realizes it. The very first day in his class, when the lesson is a little more advanced than anyone had prepared for, Present Mic calls on him to answer a question and when Izuku gets it right he SMILES . He calls on him again and again throughout the lesson and with his classmates it’s clearly a punishment but for Izuku it’s a reward. ‘You know the answer, don’t you?’ He asks and Izuku does . When he corrects him it’s because he knows he can follow his instructions. When he says his name it’s like he’s a person and not a burden. He looks at Izuku sitting at his desk, seeks his eye in the crowd when he doesn’t have to, and for the first time he feels like a teacher wants him to be there.
Izuku notices when he gets just a little bit obsessed.
It's not like he was the only one to get obsessed with a teacher. Several of his classmates were All Might fans, and at least half his classmates mooned after Midnight like their future depending on it. Izuku could understand that mindset, because she was encouraging and beautiful and sometimes purposely lewd, but his interest in her was less than zero. Her attention didn’t feel genuine, for one, and Izuku couldn’t get over the idea that she treated every student exactly the same.
No. With Present Mic he was sure that his approval was entirely subjective. Izuku wasn’t his favourite student, he wasn’t the smartest in the class or best able to keep up with his humour, but Present Mic genuinely enjoyed interacting with him. He drew sunglasses wearing smiling faces in his homework and patted him a little too hard on his back when he aced a test, telling him ‘good job! ’ in the way Izuku had always dreamed of, without any irony or the need to tell him that he had ‘a long way to go’.
Izuku had always been a Present Mic fan, of course. He was a top 100 hero, not everyone’s favourite but high energy and charismatic. Before UA Izuku already had a little bit of his merch— just an advertisement from a magazine for his radio show, taped to the side of his dresser. It portrayed a cartoonish version of Present Mic shimmying across the page with bright rainbow outlines trailing behind him. It was a little silly but it was fun, much like his show, and Izuku had thought that his smile thematically matched the rest of his collection.
Once he’s actually met the man accumulates more merchandise, thoughtlessly, just a little at a time; A branded pencil from the school store, an umbrella sold at his local konbini, a random gacha-machine pull that's so lucky that it almost feels like fate. The corner of his room dedicated to non-All Might merch grows but nothing too crazy.
Present Mic congratulates him on his performance at the Sports Festival the following Monday, asks after his healing fingers and even takes his wrist in hand to look the scar over himself. Their skin doesn't touch but he feels warm for the rest of the day, and when he sees Present Mics custom headphones on sale at the Donki Store he buys them without a thought for the perfectly functional All Might ones in his desk drawer.
The collection grows, piece by piece, until he’s putting things away to make room for the new, until he’s perusing mercari for stress balls and workout clothes, telling himself that he will only buy things that are useful. When it’s time to move into the dorms and he’s faced with a box of plushies and acrylic standees, headphone wraps, pins, lanyards and expired branded lozenges, he wonders when exactly it had gotten so out of hand.
He leaves a lot of it at home, and resolves himself to hide the rest. All Might had often remarked that Izuku’s fanboy tendencies were ‘creepy’, and though he laughed it off Izuku had the feeling that Present Mic wouldn’t. And it wasn’t like he liked Present Mic as much as All Might anyways! It was and entirely different sort of feeling, one he couldn’t quite put his finger on but that felt incredibly new, special, and important. He didn’t know how to quantify it, just that it was – and that
Izuku could leave it unexamined for the rest of his life without letting it get out of hand or acknowledging it to anyone else.
Then the war happened, and for better or worse, Izuku learned to put words to his feelings.
Even when they were ugly.
Even when they weren’t heroic.
In comparison to everything else he had done during his first year at UA, developing a crush on a teacher didn't seem all that bad, especially when that teacher was a hero. Present Mic had fought and nearly died for all of them, had visited him personally in the hospital, and when Izuku was able to return to school he had still been the person Izuku needed him to be.
Izuku knew he wasn’t Present Mics favourite student– but over time, piece by piece, Present Mic had become Izuku’s favourite hero.
Which was why he was here, kicking his feet over the edge of the rooftop as he watched the sun set over what was left of Musutafu. Bright yellows and oranges swam across the horizon, dots of pink and purple, washing away the grey and jagged concrete until it looked like a sea of amber glass. People lived there now– thousands of them, those that had moved back into their homes or who had taken over abandoned ones as they worked to set the city– the world to rights. Eventually it would be like the war hadn’t happened, but whether with gratitude or hatred those people would remember Izuku long after the skyline was repaired.
The door opens behind him right at 7pm. Somehow Izuku hadn’t expected him to be punctual, but when he turns Present Mic is there, wearing a pleasant expression as his boots click against the concrete.
“You gonna come down from there!?” He calls, stopping halfway across the roof so that he won't have to crank his neck up too high to look at him. “Your note said you wanted to talk, but I can just shout at you from here if you want!”
Izuku turned in the air, almost a pirouette as he instinctively let his momentum guide him down. He knew that he shouldn’t overuse his ember, but he wanted as many memories of One for All as he could hold. Nothing thoughtless or entirely frivolous, but flying was something he knew that, looking back, he would someday wish he’d done at every opportunity.
The moment his shoes touch the rooftop he releases Float, the weight of his body reappearing all at once. His legs were used to the strain but every bone in his arms instantly throbbed. He didn’t let it show, though, smiling as he trotted a few steps closer. “How did you know it was me?”
“I recognized your handwriting,” he grins, all bright white teeth and the beginning of smile lines around the edges. He is in his normal hero costume but the speaker around his throat is missing, giving him a slightly bobblehead look as he tilts his great comb of hair to the side. “Besides, it had to be someone who could fly! Student keycards don’t let you into the school building after hours, yaknow?”
“I like to come up and... think, sometimes.”
“Yeah, sure sure , I get that!” The hero hummed, tapping his foot as he looked Izuku over like he thought he might have something hidden in his pockets. “ Sooo , why’d’ja call me out, Midoriya?”
Izuku opens his mouth, but pauses as a flutter of nerves shoots through his stomach. Just a small feeling, more like a leaf caught in the wind than the beating wings of a butterfly. It’s gone nearly as soon as it arrives, but it’s the most anxiety he has felt in weeks— maybe months, if he is honest with himself. His feelings had been muted and easy to handle for long enough now that it’s almost strange to feel anything like ‘nervous excitement’, especially when it was over something so unimportant as a crush.
‘It must be because Present Mic is important to me,’ he thinks, feeling a soft smile stretch his lips. Against all odds he could still feel things like this for other people, for normal reasons. He wanted to share those feelings with him even if they were sent along to someone else. He wanted to experience that moment the characters in favorite stories described when they finally confessed.
That was why he’d picked this place and this time. It was beautiful backdrop to create a strong memory.
“Mic-sensei,” he starts, clasping his hands together in front of him and averting his eyes, an almost ceremonial display of shyness that he didn’t really feel. “I wanted you to know that I appreciate everything you’ve done. From your efforts in the war and the way you have helped us all feel a sense of normalcy following it, you’ve always worked hard. You’re a real hero in every sense, and I really admire you.”
“ Awww thanks Midoriya! Right back atcha—you were totally incredible!” He is beaming, teeth shining in the pretty golden light, but for some reason Izuku can’t quite look at him when he speaks again, dropping his gaze down to his hands instead.
“Honestly even before all that I was impressed by you. I’ve listened to Put Your Hands Up for years. I was… I am your biggest fan.” The nerves shoot through him again, a rippling of unease, and Izuku bends at the waist in a bow, touching one hand to his chest as he makes himself carry on through the discomfort. “Present Mic sensei, I know that I don’t have anything else to offer, but even as I am now, I really like you— please accept my feelings.”
He doesn’t know what he expects Present Mic to say, really.
From laughter to disgust to a passionate kiss, it seemed like every option had passed through his mind in the time leading up to this moment.
The last thing he expected from the Voice Hero was silence. Izuku stayed as he was for several seconds waiting it out, as though time stood still. His stomach churned, he bit his lips, he counted his breaths until he finally lifted his face–
–only to be flicked in the forehead.
“Ow!” he hisses, just as a force of habit as he jerks back. His arms coming up to cover the spot hurt worse, the ever present low-level heat that had been there since he lost them flaring in a brief moment of agony at the sudden movement. He doesn't react to that, used to forcing it down, and when he stands up his stomach is settled, only a dull annoyance in its place. He rubs his forehead and glares at Mic, who just grins right back. “What was that for?”
“Call it revenge for making me the bad guy!” He didn’t actually look upset, his tone and posture as silly and bright as ever. “What did you want me to do here, huh? Break your heart and traumatize you forever by telling you I dont feel the same? And if I did feel the same that would be even worse! I think a flick on the forehead is getting off easy by comparison!”
It was a fair point, and Izuku hadn’t even really felt the flick, but it was the principle of the matter. “... you wouldn’t be the bad guy if you returned my feelings.” he said, and then put his hands up quickly at the implication. “Not that I’m trying to force you to, but–”
“OH I super would be!” the hero barks, laughing as he points a hand to his chest. “I’m 32,” He then aimed a little finger jab at his forehead that Izuku easily sidesteps. “And you’re 16! I’d be the worst kind of bad guy there is!”
Izuku was 17, actually, as of two days back. He would’ve invited Mic out that day if he hadn’t ended up spending the evening with his mother, and he would’ve done it the previous day if it hadn’t rained. It wasn’t really the point, though, so he lets it slide for now. “That sort of thing doesn't count with me,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to stand tall and strong. “Getting our hero licenses 2 years early made all of us legal adults.”
Mic just laughs. “That’s basically just a new version of ‘ I’m mature for my age ’~!”
“I am mature for my age . ” he says, a surge of anger bubbling up– anger at being condescended to, at being teased . It's hot and fast and surprising, and the way he bares his teeth at his hero almost feels alien, like the echo of the type of person he used to be. “You know I am. I’m not like civilians my age. I’m not even like my classmates anymore– not really . I’m mature, so then what’s the real reason? If you just hate me– if I’m ugly or creepy or scary then just say that! Don’t feed me some bullshit excuse! I’m strong enough to take it!”
Mic’s smile dims just a little in the face of Izuku's anger. The sunset has dimmed a bit too, enough so that Mic pushes his sunglasses up into his hair. “I care more about your age than your maturity, Midoriya,” he says, his voice a little less loud, his red eyes just a little softer than he was used to seeing them. “I like you fine just how you are. If anything, you could deal with being a little less mature!”
That settles him a little. In all the ways he’d imagined this going, he had known that Present Mic returning his feelings or agreeing to go on a date with him was unlikely. When compared to the worst case scenarios this was almost like not being turned down at all. “Okay,” Izuku says, relaxing his posture a little. “So then.. Maybe when I turn eighteen I can confess again–”
“Nnnnope!” Present Mic took a wide-armed pose, shrugging his shoulders as he tilted his head to the side. “ Sorry , Listener, I’m not into the ‘Barely Legal’ demo either! I don’t wanna be hit with the grooming accusations, ya dig? No thank you!”
He was so attractive, even when he was pissing Izuku off. “Then WHEN ?!”
“Hmmm, good question!” The voice hero pursed his lips, tapped his chin, looked off into the distance and hummed the theme song for his radio show. He tapped his toe to the beat as well, and though it only lasts a few seconds Izuku feels a little bit like he is going to die.
“Mic-sensei, please , if you're going to turn me down anyways just do it now!” he begs, and he is surprised by the raw emotion in his own voice, the sting of tears he hadn’t shed in months at the inner corner of his eyes, the way his hands shake.
He hadn’t known he could still feel like this– he didn’t like it. It wasn’t worth it. Izuku hated that he was selfish enough to cry over his own petty little feelings when so many people would never feel anything at all.
He clenched his fists tightly in front of his chest, but the pain in his fingers didn't push the feelings down like it normally did. “I– I can take it. I’m strong enough.” he says, doing his best to sound strong as well. “You don’t have to make up a reason to send me away, or let me down gently– if you’re never going to want me back just tell me so I can get over these feelings–!”
A hand wraps around his own. Warm and large, long fingers thinner than his own brushing over his knuckles, over the knobbly scars criss-crossing over every inch. When Izuku looks up Present Mic is there, beautiful in the dim red light and meeting his eyes without pity or disgust. “Someday,” he says, “You’ll be 25 and I’ll be 40. No one will remember I was your teacher by then, and if you’re still into me and I’m still single we can see how things go. Does that sound fair?”
Izuku’s eyes still burned with unshed tears, and the fluttery, anxious flapping remained in his gut, but the words still washed him in an odd sort of relief. “Eight years.” Izuku says, and it’s a lifetime but so much closer than ‘never’ . He lets out a weak laugh, turning his head to the side. “Okay, I… yeah. I can.. That’s fair. If I still like you and we’re both single then.. then I’ll confess again.”
“Awww.” Present Mic cooes, releasing Izuku's hand to scuff a knuckle over his scarred cheek, inspiring Izukus to mimic some small fraction of his hero's smile. “Cute guy like you? When you’re 25 I won't care if you’re single.”
The point of contact is electric, so intense that for a brief moment Izuku doesn’t even hear the words. Then they hit him, all at once, like a punch to the gut, setting his nervous system alight even as the hero steps away. “W- what?” he asks, but Present Mic is already halfway back to the rooftop access. “Wait, Present Mic sensei, what did you say!?”
“Seeya in eight years, Midoriya~!” He calls, sending a wink over his shoulder just before the door closes.
Izuku is left alone there, heart pounding, stomach fluttering, his skin oversensitive and his cheeks a flaming red. It takes him half an hour to calm down and part of him thinks, wild, delighted and scandalized , that it would have been less weird if Present Mic had just taken his virginity there on the roof.
“That’s going to make me weird for life,” He mumbles to himself when he finally reactivates float and flies back to the dorms, promising himself that he would put the entire incident behind him.
xxXXxxXXxx
Eight years is forever, but against all odds the time passes anyways.
Present Mic never acts differently towards him in class and Izuku can almost believe their conversation on the rooftop was an odd, embarrassing dream. Class 1A trains, they study, and they help put the world back to rights.
Things rebuild quickly enough that his final year at UA almost feels like it did before the war. For a short time he can even pretend to be a normal hero course student. It’s just as he lowers guard, only a few weeks before their final exams, that the Embers of One for All leave Izuku entirely.
He thought he’d be ready for it but the loss is gut wrenching, painful not just emotionally but like a physical loss. There is a constant awareness of the emptiness in his chest where the fire had once burned, and without Float he never gets a break from the weight of his own body. He can’t train without pain, can’t eat, can hardly even rest , but Izuku pushed on as he always had. He had already been developing a quirkless fighting technique in preparation for the loss so he waved off the worried inquiries of his friends as the exam loomed nearer.
Izuku fails it, of course. Not catastrophically though, which is almost worse. He had a real shot at succeeding but he was just a few seconds too slow and a few points too short. Izuku stood straight as the buzzer rang out and he was surprised to find that he wasn't even upset. The only thing he felt in that moment was relief that the test was over; that he could go back to his dorm, take his painkillers, lie down, and not try to move again until the following day.
Izuku knew then—that what the world had been telling him all his life was true. He wasn’t destined to be a hero after all.
He accepts it with the same numb resignation that that he wore like a second skin, like bulletproof armour that he couldn’t be removed. On good days it felt stifling, but on the bad ones it was protective and safe, and so Izuku has no trouble smiling from behind it as he turns down Nedzu’s offer to ‘fix’ his score.
“You’ve done more than enough to prove yourself, Midoriya,” his principle tells him, his paws clasped tightly to one another. “Our school's standards are stricter than most. A few points here or there are the least we could do for you.”
“Thank you, Nedzu-sensei, but like you said, I’ve already done plenty. I had my hero's journey two years ago– Isn’t it only right that I retire early too?”
If the way his ears go flat against his head is any indication, Nedzu did not agree. “UA will always remember your sacrifices, Midoriya. It will take care of you.” He says, a promise that Izuku would soon find out was not an empty platitude.
His classmates graduate without him— Izuku graduates with the equivalent degree of those in Gen Ed with a few extra paper certifications for the business side of the hero industry. In a world that hadn’t been at war Izuku could have taken any number of jobs with it, but when protestors appear outside his mothers new apartment building the day Izuku is to return home he knows that the degree isn’t worth anything at all.
Not only did the world not need him now that the war was over, it didn’t want him either.
UA lets him stay. He is moved into his own private apartment— in the teachers dorms, oddly enough, right across the hall from Aizawa. At the time it had seemed like a way to keep him away from the students, most of whom treated him like something between an active hero and a god . Hindsight tells him that Nedzu had been trying to put an idea into his head.
Sharing a common space with so many of his mentors leads to conversations, and he inevitably finds himself helping with grading and scheduling, working through lesson plans and schedules and investing himself in the mechanisms that kept UA students improving at a steady pace. By the end of the year he is fully invested in the success of some of Aizawa, Vlad King, and even Power Loader’s students, and when the temporary art teacher’s contract isn’t renewed Izuku hardly hesitates at all when the job is offered to him instead.
‘Art’ was a catchall description for what UA offered— A better name for it was Marketing, Merchandising and Memetics . It covered the history of hero costumes and branding, their colour schemes and the emotions that they inspired in those who saw them, catch phrases, clothing lines, publicity stunts, and how heroes turned themselves into amarketable plushies. Izuku had always been excellent at the history and theory aspects of that class, only falling short in practical demonstrations when his stage fright kicked in.
It rears its ugly head in the lead up to his first ever class, but by the end of the week he is practically glowing. For the first time in longer than he wants to think about, he wakes up in the morning and doesn’t want to remain in bed. He sees students from every course and year, and they are happy to see and learn from him in turn. When classes are done for the day he gets to go back to the teachers lounge and talk some more with the people he once looked up to, people who were rapidly becoming his peers.
Years pass this way— the excitement dims, but having a purpose keeps him moving after the entire world left him behind. It gives him something to concentrate on, too, when the mobility of his arms just keeps degrading, when the pain is constant and the pen slips through his fingers again and again. When he has to switch to organizing all of his lesson plans on his phone, and then to a large tablet he can operate with the back of one gnarled knuckle when he can’t keep his fingers straight.
At 21 he encountered the first student to ask if he taught at UA when Dynamight and Uravity attended. He’s not the last, either. Ironically that question is more common in the heroics course than anywhere else, and he learns to laugh it off.
At 22 it hardly even hurts when everyone is too busy with a large scale charity event to go out drinking for his birthday. It’s a relief, actually, the satisfying burn of cancelled plans, an excuse to stay home with his heating pad in his dark and quiet apartment.
At 23 he loses his arms.
He had expected them to just keep degrading for the rest of his life— to forever be bad and always be worse , but somehow he hadn’t pictured a floor at the bottom of that particular pit. The change was sudden and unexpected— a minor misstep on the stairs and his arms instinctively thrown forward to catch himself. His bones, held together by little more than Eri’s childhood wish, shatter instantly. He is found by Ectoplasm within a minute but he’s already gone into shock from the pain.
There is nothing that Recovery Girl’s replacement can do for him beyond help dull the pain and arrange transport to a hospital. The surgeon tells him, when he wakes up with uneven stumps below his shoulders, that when they opened him up the bones had looked like cornflakes, just dust and crumbs. They tell him that they had no choice other than to amputate, that the muscles were ripped and the ligaments severed by the shards.
For the first time in a long time Izuku feels something, and he’s surprised to find that the feeling is relief .
Relief from the pain that was little more than a phantom buzz now.
Relief from the burden of Eri’s sacrifice. The fact that she had given up her own quirk in the desperate wish to make him whole was a terrible weight– a burden that sat on his back for years. He had never been able to closely examine the fact that he had willingly sacrificed his arms in order to reach out to Shigaraki and that the choice had been taken away. Eri had sacrificed her own quirk permanently for something Izuku never asked for, that he didn’t want. He had kept it secret from her all this time, the knowledge that she had left the job half-finished, that her sacrifice, like his own, had been for nothing.
Izuku had been recommended to amputate all the way back in his second year but had been too cowardly to do it when Kacchan was so dogged in his refusal to amputate his own. The thought had sat in his mind ever since, on every bad day and the good days that eventually became good afternoons, good hours, good moments.
The choice, the burden, the weight, the expectation, the pain, all of it was gone.
Izuku knows that everyone will expect him to cry.
He doesn't let anyone in to see him at first. He’s afraid that they will say ‘sorry’, that their obvious distress will change his mind, that his euphoria will jacknife back into depression at the first sign of pity. It’s easier to isolate in the hospital, to have it in writing that he declines all visitors, but after a week he has to return to his apartment and after a great deal of anxiety he chooses Present Mic to be the one to drive him home.
HIzashi arrives at the hospital as he always is in his off-hours, stylishly dressed in boots two inches taller than could really be comfortable, with a smile on his face and his hair tucked back. His eyes are a little soft, a little sad, but he doesn’t tell Izuku he’s sorry when he does up his seatbelt for him, and the music he turns on is something they both like. He walks with Izuku all the way to his apartment, explaining along the way that Nedzu wanted to make his door handle voice activated but that it would probably be less tricky to just kick it open.
“So,” he asks, when Izuku finally falls into the spot on the couch that was shaped like him. “What’s next?”
Izuku’s favourite blanket is draped over the back of the couch and he pulls it onto himself with his teeth. It falls almost perfectly into place, a few kicks of his feet fixing the rest. “Prosthetics.” he says with a hum, lifting his arm and turning it, marvelling as he has for days now at the ease of movement, the lack of pain. “The civilian-grade ones are great these days. In a month or two my dexterity could be just as good as it was before– probably even better.”
“Sounds pretty nice.” Hizashi hums, leaning over the back of the couch near Izuku’s feet. He rests his chin in his hand, like Izuku’s sleepy demeanor is contagious. “UA’s insurance covera hero-grade prosthetics, too. If you want them.”
The doctors had brought them up, as well. They were made with a type of steel so lightweight and strong it would sound like magic to anyone born before the age of quirks. They could be controlled by your mind, and with only the Support Developers’ own creativity as a limit to what they could do acquiring such a thing would be like having a superhuman ability all on its own.
He shifts uncomfortably, unable to look his friend in the eye even as he forces a laugh. “What does a teacher need with that?” he deflects. “It would be wasted on me.”
“But do you want it, Izuku?”
He did.
He does .
He wants it more than he’s wanted anything since before the war and even though he can’t justify it he is back under the knife 2 months later.
There are constant exercises that need to be done to help the wetware integrate with the hardware, and Izuku steps back into the UA gym for the first time since graduation. Strength comes to him slowly at first, but the casual workouts with his fellow teachers is a good environment to grow within. He can use the treadmill again, can hold weights without his elbows burning. After a few weeks he dares to throw a punch and even though his aim is off the ease of movement thrills him.
“I want to be a hero again,” he tells Nedzu, a little tipsy so late into the night on his 24th birthday. “I don’t need to be number one, and I don’t have to change the world. Even if it’s only part time I want to help people again.”
“Then we’ll make it happen.”
He trains himself constantly for the rest of the year. Work-life balance isn’t really a thing when you worked at your home, when all your neighbors, coworkers, and friends were experts in the thing you wanted to be, when a third of his students were training for the exact same thing. His 25th birthday comes and goes in a blur of sweat and tears, marked only with the gift of a new speculative hero costume from his friends in the support department. Gone is the familiar forest green jumpsuit, replaced instead with an oversized, reinforced hoodie with fat friendly bunny ears, and boots that would let him bounce around and kick almost as hard as he used to.
It meant something more than just support. The One for All Hero Deku, inheritor of All Might’s legacy, was gone. His frightening face, his villainous look, the murderer was lost in the final battle, or maybe sacrificed, buried in the rubble.
Dekiru, the quirkless hero he’d spent his childhood wanting to be, was finally Here.
In late August he passed the exam with the HPSC. Part of him had worried that they might go easy on him, but if anything Hawks had done the opposite. Every combatant in the arena had seemed to come for him specifically, but Izuku understood his own body in a way he never had before. He moved, he fought, and he saved, all with a smile on his face. He was confident in a way that he never could have dreamed of being as a teenager, and his joy when they hand him his new license is practically radiant, the smile he wore in the photo almost unrecognizable compared to the one hidden away in a drawer back home.
A party waits for him at UA.
Iida sweeps him up into a hug just inside the door and it almost feels like Izuku is passed around like a party favour. All his friends are there to celebrate; Class A, Class B, a few of his former students who had matured into fine heroes in their own right, one or two of his former kōhai and several old mentors all take him in their arms or shake his hands. Some kiss him on the cheek, too, and after he has been pushed, prodded, floated and thrown all the way across the room he finally finds himself near the DJ table, flushed and rumpled and smiling.
Hizashi is there in casual clothes, red leather and white jeans, grinning as he sets a record playing. It’s something fun, something that had been popular long before either one of them was born. “Newly minted heroes have to work out of an agency,” Hizashi says. He doesn’t need to congratulate him now, because he was the first person Izuku called when he passed the test. “Any idea where you wanna go?
“I’m thinking of asking Kacchan if I can start out under him. His agency is really close by and he doesn’t have any other employees, so there should be room for me. What do you think?”
“Oh I think he’ll go for it— he might even ask you first, before you get the chance.”
Izuku perked up. “Really?”
“Might’ve listened in on Red Riot giving him a pep talk in the bathroom before you got here— make sure to act surprised, though.”
Izuku laughs, swaying towards him a bit as a bubbly, weightless feeling comes over him. It’s a little like Float and Black Whip being used at once, like he’s a balloon filled with helium and Hizashi is holding the string. “Maybe I’ll ask him first anyways. I used to always try to catch up to him, it would be nice to move faster than him for once.”
Hizashi hums thoughtfully. “Never been a better time for you to try something new.” He says. “Are you going to go home with him afterwards?”
It takes Izuku a moment to catch on to the implication, and he flushes red, skittering back and waving his arms before his face. “No no no! Kachan and I aren’t like that! No way , I’m way too busy right now for-for dating or or or anything like that anyways! I’ll be going right back to my own apartment as always, don’t you worry!”
Hizashi is grinning, squinty-eyed and with all his teeth on display. “I’m not worried,” he says, stepping forward even as Izuku steps back. “Because as it turns out, I was lying about what I said back then.”
It’s just two steps before Izuku is bumping into the dj table, and he can distantly hear the banner across its front fluttering as Hizashi stops just outside his personal bubble. “Lying?” He asks.
“Mhm.” Hizashi tilts his head and a drop of sweat races down Izuku's spine. It’s like Danger Sense is suddenly back, little frissons of pure electric Warning shooting through his nervous system the closer Hizashi gets. “I know I said that I wouldn't, but it turns out I really hope that you’re single right now, Izuku.”
“Oh my god,” Izuku squeaks. “M- Hizashi ! You’re not talking about my— about what happened on the roof, are you? You remember that!?”
Hizashi laughs. “I don’t think anyone could forget something like that!”
Izuku wraps his arms over his head, ignoring the light bump of the metal against his skull. “Okay, fine , I didn’t think you’d actually forget. More like I thought we were just pretending that never happened?” he groans. “That’s what I’ve tried to do, at least! It’s not like I was— I wasn’t just waiting around like a puppy this whole time, l know you were just letting me down gently when I was in a tough place back then— in your own weird way.”
And it had been weird, but Izuku had known Hizashi a long time now, as friends, and the man was always weird. He liked to press buttons, liked to scandalize, to say something unexpected and crass to shake Izuku out of his own head when he least expected it. Even now he can see the familiar glimmer in his red eyes as he leans in, and he braces himself for something truly terrible to leave his lips.
“So you’re saying you got over me, huh?” he purrs, bent at the waist and close enough that Izuku can feel the warmth of his breath against his neck.
The butterflies are back, flapping desperately enough against Izuku’s rib cage that if they broke free he knew they would make themselves into an impenetrable black cloud.
He doesn’t want to escape, though. He had spent the last year admitting to the things he wanted, facing those desires head-on and working towards them even when it was humiliating, even when it hurt, or when it might not be possible in the end.
Izuku had relearned how to hope.
“I never said I got over you.” he admits, and shivers as a hand brushes against his hip. “Maybe it’s even worse now, actually. Since I kind of.. know you, now.”
“Kind of ,” he teases, a hand brushing against Izuku's hip and making him let out a small, involuntary gasp. “Do you want to get to know me even better?”
The answer is yes— obviously yes, a bright red ‘yes’ with a red circle drawn around it— but in his excitement Izuku freezes, a three second pause that lasts just long enough for Hizashi’s eyes to slide away and for him to put distance between them.
“W- wait —!” Izuku chokes out, reaching for his wrist, but Hizashi dodges easily, winking as he tilts his head towards the crowd.
“My time is up.” He says, and when Izuku follows his gaze he sees Kacchan walking up, a hard line to his shoulders like he’s ready to enter a fight even as Kirishima trails happily (supportively) behind.
“Izuku!” He barks, loud even compared to the steadily thumping stereo between them. “I WANNA TALK TO YOU!”
“O-okay Kacchan!” He shouts back, stepping away so that Present Mic can once more man the DJ equipment. “We can talk about this later, right?”
“Of course! Enjoy your party, Izuku— make sure you make it home safe tonight .” He winks, and Izuku walks away feeling like there is a target on his back.
The feeling never really goes away— a nagging itch, a tingle at the back of his neck. He keeps looking over his shoulder, but since the party is for him there is always someone looking to grab him for a hug or conversation, for a drink or to give him a gift or just to schedule one-on-one time to catch up. It’s wild and fun and heart warming and when it finally winds down enough for him to stumble home he’s almost forgotten about everything Hizashi had carefully not said.
“Izuku.”
Almost .
A hand presses against his lower spine as he fumbles with his key, Hizashi crowding him against his own front door. A mouth presses against his neck, not quite a kiss but it’s warmth and skin and the tickle of his mustache, the overwhelming smell of leather sweat and cologne.
“Are you gonna let me in, Izuku?” He hums, and Izuku can only whimper in response. If he still had One For All he probably would have ripped the door open in his haste, but instead he has to fumble and shiver as Hizashi pets distracting circles around his hips.
When it’s finally open Hizashi harasses him in, pressing him against the wall of the genkan instead as his hand fully slides beneath his shirt, petting his stomach and pressing his nose into Izuku's hair.
“I want to fuck you raw.” He growls, punctuated by a firm grind of his hips against Izuku's ass.
“Oh my god , the door is still open…!”
“If Eraser gets an eyeful that's his own fault for being nosey!” Even as he laughs Hizashi kicks the door closed, immediately sliding a hand below Izuku's waistband to pet through the curls. “ Man , that's your only problem with it, huh? I knew you were freaky— I thought you were gonna jump me on your birthday but you were just teasing me, right? Kept me waiting all this time just to drive me crazy?”
It’s overwhelming and sudden but Izuku had spent so long imagining this scenario that it felt long overdue. He turns his face to the side and Hizashi catches his lips in a kiss, messy and full of teeth. There is no worries about finesse or skill, Hizashi kisses him like he’s starving, like he wants to eat him alive.
Stumbling to the bedroom, Izuku is hardly able to take a single step without Hizashi getting in his way. They fall onto the bed in a messy heap and Izuku can finally pull him closer, wrapping his legs instinctually around Hizashi’s hips as he grinds down against him.
“I wanna fuck you sooo bad, Izuku!” Hizashi groans into Izukus neck as he licks and nips his way down to his collarbone. Even Izuku's shirt does not protect him, Hizashi biting the collar briefly before he pushes it up, leaving a wet trail down Izuku's chest and ribs, even dipping his tongue into his belly button. “Can I fuck you? Are you on birth control? Are you gonna let me fuck you up?”
Izuku makes a helpless noise, his face burning as he lifts his hips, the only help he manages to give as Hizashi quickly undoes his jeans and starts yanking them down. “Y-yeah I’m— I wanna do that please— it’s okay I’m, I’m fixed, you can do it-“
“You're fixed, huh?” His jeans are gone and his boxers too, and Hizashi plants himself between Izuku's thighs, grinding the jut of his denim-covered erection against him like he doesn’t care about the wet spot Izuku is leaving behind. His hands pet over Izuku's stomach as he humps against him, slowly but firmly enough to rock the entire bed. “You went to the vet and got spayed like a good little puppy? Did he give you belly rubs like this afterwards?”
Izuku whined, pulling back his leg so he could kick him in the shoulder. “That’s so weird!”
“That’s not a no,” Hizashi grabs his foot, nipping at his ankle just once before pushing it back down to the bed, spreading him wide. He looks down at Izuku’s vulva and bares his teeth in a growl, and Izuku only has a moment to be self conscious before he is ducking down and wrapping his lips around Izuku’s clit.
It's intense– Izuku startles, slamming his thighs closed around Hizashi’s head but that just holds him more firmly in place. His mouth feels indescribable , just hot and slippery and endless. Izuku makes small distressed noises– mouselike squeaks and chirps, completely involuntary as he both tries to hump his hips further into the feeling and also to force himself to be still.
When Hizashi introduces his teeth to the equation it becomes ten times better. Izuku ruts up against the blunt edge, aiming for it and letting his knees fall open as he stretches out his legs for better leverage. This was more familiar and better for it; Hizashi picks up on the change immediately, focusing on presenting a firmer pressure against him as Izuku rocks into it. It was closer to how Izuku masturbated on his own– the firm edge of his counter was one of his favourite places to wind himself up when he was alone. Even if he’s laying down now his body recognizes the motions– relaxing into it even as the knot in his belly begins to curl tighter, his body heat climbing higher and higher.
Faster than it ever did when he was alone, Izuku feels himself reach the crest of the mountain, the point where he would normally fall over the edge into orgasm– but instead it just keeps climbing.
Izuku tries to moan out a ‘yes’, ‘more’, maybe a ‘feels so good’ like people did in porn– but when he tries it all he can produce is a hiccupy little sound, reedy and thin
“That's right baby ,” Hizashi leans just an inch back, running his flat tongue firmly up Izuku’s clit once, hard enough to send a jolt of electricity though his hips. “Being such a good puppy for me, aren’t you?”
“ Stoopppp ..!” Izuku whined, wishing he could cover his face as Hizashi laughs, shifting back to swirl the pad of his thumb around Izuku’s soaking wet entrance.
“Hey if you’d prefer it then I can be the dog, I’m already down here humping the–”
Hizashi says more but in that moment he pushes his thumb inside him Izuku’s muscles lock up, and his ears ring too loud to hear anything else.
‘It hurts,’ he thinks wildly, as still as ice even as Hizashi’s thumb settles entirely inside him. He had large hands but his thumb wasn’t particularly girthy, was it? It wasn’t even moving , so why did it hurt?
“Shh shh shh ,” Hizashi soothes, his free hand petting up his flank as he leaned in to give his clit another firm lick. “Just relax, I’ve got you.”
Hizashi rocks his thumb inside him, the rest of his hand cupping his ass. In taking an internal stock Izuku assesses that it was really just the opening that hurt— which was now being stretched only by the thinnest part of Hizashi’s thumb— but the pain was still not gone. Izuku sucks air through clenched teeth, closing his eyes as spots start to appear in his vision. It was only Hizashi’s thumb— two or three more fingers would probably come soon, and then his dick— how much would that hurt? ‘Worse, so much worse.’ It’s not even really about the intrusion now, Hizashi carefully turning his hand so he can rub the pad of his thumb around his gspot to help him relax.
Izuku can’t relax at all— the muscles in his stomach are so taught that they ache. Like bracing for a punch, even as he slowly, tentatively rocks against it, hoping that the pleasure could somewhat override the fear.
He sucks in another breathe, the cold of it surprising. Was he breathing? Should he be breathing?
“Has it been a while?” Hizashi asks, his voice having gone smooth and gentle as he pets his free hand across the smooth skin of his stomach.
“No— nhh — never… never done this.”
Hizashi hums soothingly, slipping his finger out of him (Izuku giving a small pained gasp at the brief stretch) and bringing it up to his clit instead, pressing against it without moving. “Maybe I’m moving a little too fast here. Do you need me to cool it?”
“No!” The exclamation that bursts out surprises him, especially when the way his body jolts just puts more of that pressure on his clit. His mind is still a little fuzzy, but he didn’t want to stop, even if his body was getting scared all on its own. “I want this, I promise, it’s— I know I’m kind of old for a virgin, but I’ve used toys and stuff! I’m just nervous !”
Hizashi covers Izuku’s body with his own, a warm and solid weight as he pushes his tongue into Izuku’s mouth. The kiss tastes exactly the way Izuku knew he would, but with the aggressive way he runs his tongue along Izuku’s molars it feels entirely different and much dirtier, especially when his thumbs gives a gentle grind against the topside of his clit.
“I’m not calling an end to it or anything,” Hizashi bites his lower lip as he says it, then the fat on his cheek, tongue briefly tracing the scar tissue until it swipes over Izuku’s ear and makes him squeak. “Just checking in! I can switch gears.”
Izuku wrinkles his nose but doesn’t say anything, just closing his eyes as Hizashi kisses his way back across Izuku’s jaw. When he reaches his mouth again he doesn’t kiss it, just giving it a mean little nip. “What’s with the pout? Did I get it wrong?”
Izuku considers denying it, but when he’s so close to finally getting what he’s always wanted he can’t justify holding himself back. “I just… I’m not delicate. I don’t want my first time to be sweet soft and slow,” he admits, and the smile that stretches across Hizashi’s face is positively shark-like.
“You don’t have to worry about that! I never fuck slow.”
“...well you did make me wait eight years.”
Hizashi throws back his head and laughs, a sound that's a little too loud for the room but that makes Izuku’s heart flutter anyways. “Good point! After all that time you must be dying for my cock by now~! All this means is that we’ve gotta warm up to it first– Where are your toys?”
Izuku tells him and Hizashi happily rolls off the bed, shucking his own clothes as he does it. Izuku has seen him nude before– or nearly nude, just once or twice in the teachers changing rooms when a quirk mishap had gone awry. The sight of his lightly-furred legs and the slight swell of his belly were familiar to him but the the long erect dick was—
Well, it was pierced.
Izuku knew that, sort of. Had heard Hizashi joke about it, heard Shouta make mention of it, had once caught the distinct outline of it through his pants and spent the next two days furiously not thinking about it. Even now he decides not to think about it. Not about the thick silver ring that he now knew went right through the tip and underside, or how it would feel inside him.
As Hizashi digs through his bedside drawer, pulling out Izuku's toy from its little drawstring pouch and the barely used bottle of lube, he decidedly doesn't think about HIzashi’s piercing, because he knows that such thoughts would just psych him out.
They were just a little bit too advanced for him.
For tonight, at least.
“This the one you wanna use?” Hizashi asks, the bed dipping as he leans over, dangelong Izuku's bright red bullet vibe over his face by the string.
Izuku would probably have blushed if he wasn’t already so overwhelmed. “Yeah thats– that’s the only one I have. Right now. Is that okay?”
“Sure, why wouldn’t it be?” HIzashi hums, hopping onto the bed and making the matress bounce, catching Izuku by the knee so that he wont roll towards him.
“Well I mean– I know it’s small.”
“That’s fine.” Hizashi situates himself between his thighs again, arranging Izuku’s legs over his own hips. His cock dangles dangerously close to Izuku’s hole but doesn’t actually touch it, Hizashi entirely ignoring it as he lubes up the toy.
Izuku drags his eyes away from the bright pink head of Hizashi’s cock, his arms coming up reflexively to curl over his stomach. They are colder than his skin, and he can’t help a small jump. “W-well I didn’t really have the dexterity for most things before –”
“Before your arms, yeah.”
“-yeah, so this was just the easiest way to do it.”
“Mmm,” Hizashi hums again, like he’s very invested in what Izuku is saying even as his thumb returns to his vulva, spreading lube around his clit and directly against his hole in gentle swipes. “Do you like this toy?”
Izuku shivers. “Yeah it– It’s comfortable. Feels good.”
“Then I like it too.”
He feels it against his hole, firmer than Hizashi’s thumb, but before he can even consider clenching up its already slipping inside, the familiar brief stretch so small than he hardly even feels it before its gone.
“Oh,” Izuku doesn’t make the sound on purpose, just a little noise of surprise. All that is left of the feeling is a distant, half-real feeling of weight inside him and the more tangible tickle of the wire against his perineum, lightly tapping as Hizashi moves his hand.
“Good?” he asks, and Izuku is almost embarrassed to admit that it hadn’t hurt at all.
“Yeah, it's good.” he’s honest anyways, letting out a shaky breath when he feels the vibrations suddenly kick on.
This is wholly familiar now, the only change being the audience. Izuku tries not to be too self conscious, closing his eyes and stretching his neck back as he undulates his hips just-slightly in the air.
“Thaaats right , Izuku, just do what comes natural,” Hizashi croons as he runs his hands reverently up Izuku’s legs, cupping his knees before sliding back down to the crease where his thighs met his stomach and then back again. On the third repetition they continue up Izuku’s sides, sliding across his ribs and then around to hold his back as he leaned in to press wet kisses to his shoulders and neck. “You’re being such a good little puppy for me. You look so fucking hot right now.”
Hizashi’s dick is pressed against him, the shaft laying along his seam and the metal at the tip buried in amongst his pubes. It’s warmer than Izuku thought it would be— but then, Hizashi’s body against his own is burning hot. Izuku can feel his cock twitching and he angles his hips to rock up against the underside, whining when Hizashi matches his movements.
“Fuck Izuku, that’s great,” Hizashi pants, burying his face into Izukus neck to suck a hickey into the sensitive skin. “I can feel your pussy vibrating on me— I could probably cum just from this. Cum all over your belly and rub it in—“
“No! Don’t do that, please—!” Izuku doesn’t mean to sound quite so distraught, but Hizashi just laughs.
“Aww look at you all demanding now! That’s not what you want?”
“Just— just put it inside, I want it inside, please!”
Hizashi bites his neck, just hard enough to make him squeak before he leans back, taking himself in hand. He taps the tip of his dick— more specifically, the metal ring— against Izuku's clit, seeming to enjoy the way it made his muscles jump and tremble. “I thought you were nervous~?”
“Hizashiii!”
“Don’t be in such a hurry, I gotta make sure you’re loose enough!” He taps him a few more times before pressing the spongy head down firmly against his clit, the pressure tight and warm enough that Izuku can’t help but sway up into it with shaking breaths. He’s so distracted by it, combined with the still buzzing toy inside him, that he doesn’t even notice the finger tracing around his opening until it's already pushing inside.
Izuku reflexively curves forward and gasps in a breath– but it doesn't hurt at all. A little strange and intrusive, maybe, but with Izuku’s attention divided towards everywhere else… “It’s okay,” He breathes, his limbs trembling with nerves even as Hizashi turns his finger in circles, carefully tugging and pressing the tight muscles around his entrance.
“Just okay?” He presses it in deeper, until Izuku can feel his knuckles jamming into either side of his groin. “Your pussy is soaked , you're already loosening up for me!”
Izuku lifts his arms, putting the cold silicone and metal over his face to cool and hide his blush. “ Don’t call it thattt…” he groans, grinding his clit up against Hizashi’s dick again until he feels the edge of the metal again.
“Oh? What do you like better?”
“I don’t know, just not– nnh!”
Hizashi gives a few firm thrusts of his finger, a wet smacking sound issuing lewdly from between them before he pulls it back out. “Hey hey, look at me–We don’t have to call it anything,” he tells him, and when Izuku peaks out from behind his hands he sees that Hizashi is running his middle finger over his tongue, making hard eye contact as he licks it clean. He grinds his cockhead against Izuku as he does it, fully entrancing him to the motion, and he’s so distracted by it that when Hizashi’s dick is suddenly pressing into his hole he doesn’t even have time to brace himself for the pain.
Izuku makes an involuntary noise, a punched-out little gasp. It didn’t hurt as much as a punch did, though– more of a stinging sensation, along with the intrusive feeling of the stretch. Hizashi was incredibly there , he was inside him! Izuku isn’t entirely sure how to react to it, especially as he sinks deeper and deeper in.
The moment his piercing reaches the still-vibrating bullet is obvious. Izuku can literally feel the familiar buzz become a rattle, and might have even heard it if Hizashi’s own reaction didn’t cover it up. He almost yowled, his shoulders raising and his spine bowing upwards like a cat. He moves his hips in sharp little jerks, hard enough to push the toy higher than Izuku had ever had it.
“Feels good,” Izuku hiccups. Not very elegant but he knows he has to communicate somehow. He couldn’t think of a sexier way to say it and he’s still much too present in his own mind to try out a theatrical moan. Body language was largely off the table too, as things felt too tight and complicated down there for him to move on his own. It was all in Hizashi’s more experienced hands…
.. hands which were currently feeling up every inch of Izuku he could reach. “Feels good for me too, fuck ..! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, that’s good!” He laughs as he says it, hips twitching and jerking inside him. Each one pulls an odd little gurgle from Izuku’s throat, something about it sending white hot lighting through him on every inward move. “God I only have half my dick in you and I feel like I’m about to blow! I can feel it all the way down in my balls — ahhh , I'm gonna hold back, I swear , but holy shit…”
He switches his grip to Izuku’s hips, his fingers digging in as he constrained himself to shallow thrusts. Despite what he had said before, Hizashi moves quite slowly. His brow furrows and sweat drips down his chest, Izuku watching his body move with intense focus as he lets the actual sensations of what is happening to him wash through him unexamined. It’s good— it’s intense — it’s not too scary and it doesn’t hurt, so all Izuku needs to do is lay back and take it—
The orgasm appears out of nowhere. One little change in angle, a slightly too-firm press of Hizashis cock against his g-spot with a downward tug at his entrance. It rips through his body like the rushing of water, a hot and tingly explosion bursting up his spine. It’s good , but way too intense— and the moment it lets off and begins to fade it ratchets up again with Hizashi’s next thrust.
“No-no-ah-ah!!” His knees come up as his body tries to curl in a ball but Hizashi’s own body gets in the way. He tries to grab hold of the sheets but he’s not even sure if he manages to do that much, shaking as another blaze of fire runs through him. “Too much—stop stop stop!”
Hizashi goes still, still halfway inside him, and though the pressure is still intense it’s relenting. Izuku can almost imagine a pressure valve in his mind slowly turning away from the red zone, even if the aftershocks and twitching of his hip makes the dial jump.
“All good?” Hizashi asks. The hand on Izuku's belly slides easily over his navel, the skin slippery with his sweat. “That was pretty cute— you came, right?”
Izuku sobs.
Hizashi immediately wraps himself around him, chest to chest and headless of his tears as he peppers kisses along the side of his face. “ No no, it’s okay, what’s wrong?”
“I wanted to come at the same time!” Izuku whines. He knows his reaction is overblown but for some reason he can’t quite help himself, the still-intense tingling inside him seeming to be stirring up his emotions as well. “I wanted to— I wanted to be—“
“Awww puppy , it’s okay!” Izuku is sure that he must be getting him all wet with his tears by now, but considering the way Hizashi drags his tongue over the scar there the other man must not mind. “That's kind of just a fanfiction thing? It doesn’t usually happen unless both people are really quick shots— but hey, maybe I’ll catch you on the next one! Honestly my dick’s pretty numb right now.”
He shifts back, pulling out of Izuku entirely. Izuku gets a quick glance of him slipping a hand up and down his cock, it’s surface shining with thin, slightly milky wetness, before jolting when Hizashi tugs the toy out of him as well by its string. Izuku only has a few moments to feel empty, the world almost too still without the constant internal buzz, but then Hizashi is pushing in again, making room for himself at the deepest point in him and then going even further.
It feels ten times longer than it had been—- certainly like much more of him than the length of the bullet could account for. Izuku grabs into Hizashi and pulls him close, clinging for dear life as the other man groans.
“Deep-deep-deep ,” Izuku mutters against Hizashi’s collarbone, his body shaking despite the soothing hand moving through his hair.
“Mmmhm,” Hizashi hums, rolling his hips ever so slightly. Their hips were fully flushed together now, Izuku’s clit being smushed up against Hizashi’s body. “Does it hurt?”
“N-no, s’just.. a lot.”
“Good good good let me know if– mmm – fuck, you’re so good!” Hizashi begins thrusting– just slowly at first, long smooth pistons like a machine warming up. Izuku felt like he should be holding on for dear life, like Hizashi was churning him up and scrambling his insides in a deliberate, methodical sort of way.
And then he sped up.
Short hard jerks, staying in as deep as he can go. The room fills with the loud smack of their thighs connecting and suddenly it doesn't really matter to Izuku exactly what’s happening, all if it just becoming a rhythmic, intense rising of heat, pleasure, and friction. His legs want to stay up– his body wants to thrust back. All he can do is tilt his hips, to try to use his abs to facilitate firmer thrusts.
Hizashi hisses out a curse when Izuku’s ankles lock behind his back. His teeth lock around Izuku’s neck in a firm but not painful hold,m. When he moans it’s so deep and powerful that Izuku can feel his spine rattle from it, the vibrations of Hizashi’s throat just as strong as the ones his massager could provide.
“Oh my god..!” Izuku groans, but between Hizashi, their smacking hips, and the creaking of the bed beneath them, it is impossible for Izuku to hear his own voice.
Somewhere after that Izuku disconnects from his body.
Not in a bad way– everything that is happening feels amazing, and as a person who was always in some amount of pain Izuku was floating too high to be aware of any of it. He can not hear himself, and can not direct the action, and so he is happy to simply become a vessel of pleasure. He becomes a cup that HIzashi is filling (and emptying, filling, emptying again) , something that just passively enjoys what is done to it for the minutes, (hours?) that Hizashi wants to do it. He closes his eyes and just rides the wave (lets himself be ridden?), all while his next orgasm ticks closer and closer.
Hizashi slows for a moment, hissing filth into Izuku’s ear as he shifts his knees up on the bed before starting again. His face is far enough away to look at Izuku now, and through his haze he remembers himself.
With Hizashi quiet now Izuku can hear a little ‘uh-uh-uh’ sound spilling from his own lips. It doesn’t sound like him at all and its embarrassing enough that he tries to stop, but being fucked in silence is worse. Even if it weren't, Hizashi shifts his own weight back, until his cock is aimed almost upwards, forcing it to pound up towards his navel and the sound spills out once again. ‘Uh-uh-uh-! ’ like a pornstar faking it, but Izuku is suddenly faced with the idea that maybe that fake sounding noise has always been real because even to his own ears he sounds like he’s faking it. Did Hizashi think he was playing it up for an invisible audience? Did he find it even half as cringey and unsexy as Izuku did?
He claps a hand to his mouth to cover the noises, though the material of his prosthetic doesn't help him much. He bites his lip instead to hold it in, but almost as soon as he does Hizashi is pushing his wrist into the mattress and biting Izuku’s neck until he yelps.
“C’mon, why’re you hiding your voice?” He says, swirling his tongue around Izuku’s ear. “Don’t be shy, Listener, give me a Loudout Shout-!”
Izuku’s muscles contract involuntarily around Hizashi’s dick. He doesn’t shout but the grunt he lets out is rough and belly-deep, and when he can suck in air again he whines.
Hizashi of course notices it all. “Oho, you like that , Listener ?” Izuku sobs as Hizashi’s strokes suddenly seem to be setting fires inside him. “ Yeahhhh you do… Even after all this time you’re Present Mic’s biggest fan, huh?”
“Hiza- ah-ah—! “ Izuku sobs, his face burning and pulse pounding in his ears. “Za— zashi —please!”
“Not Hizashi—what do you Really wanna call me, Listener?”
Izuku felt like he was going to die. “My—please—ah— Mic! Present Mic— please, Mic , nnnh!!”
Hizashi shuddered, picking up the pace, quick enough that the impacts almost hurt. “Fuck– you tightened up so good for me there– C’mon Little Listener you can– ahh!!- yeah, yeah, fuck, fucking my fans pretty little wet hole, you’re gonna come for me again, right? Gonna come for your hero?”
It’s all so weird — so gross and so weird and when Izuku comes it almost makes all of it worse, especially when Hizashi manages to time his thrust with the spasms of his hips, to keep the orgasm rolling, again and again.
It only ends when Hizashi slows, breathing hard like he’d been holding his breath through the last sprints. He looks a little blearily as he pushes back to sit up again, moving his hands to Izuku’s knees as he switches to slow, smooth thrusts.
“All good?” He grins, some errant strands of hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead.
His legs are shaking wildly, as is the rest of him. The mattress is warmer and wetter than he remembers it being, their skin gliding more smoothly together. “Did I pee myself?” Izuku croaks, mortified.
“It’s just squirt.” Hizashi reassures him but Izuku moans in misery and covers his face again.
“Squirt is pee!” He cries, but Hizashi just snickers at him.
“It’s kind of pee— but it’s sexy pee, it doesn’t count!” Hizashi pats his thigh, then moves his hand into Izuku’s bush and begins rolling his thumb around his clit again. Not directly, as it was too sensitive for that, but wide circles around the outside of the hood. “And hey even if it was pee that’s my bad, right? I’m the one using your bladder like a punching bag here. You liked it though, right?”
“All of that —everything was so embarrassing,
“Apparently you find embarrassment kinda hot though— you came so hard. You ever consider you might have a humiliation fetish, Izuku?”
Considering how embarrassing hearing that was, along with the fact that he was slowly beginning to roll his hips down against Hizashi’s miraculously still hard cock, that was probably true. “Maybe a little,” he admits, moving his hands down so he can watch Hizashi’s body move against him. “Just— just don’t go crazy with it...”
“No degrading, don’t worry. How could I be mean when you’re so hot and wet around my dick right now? I keep thinking you probably touched yourself when you listened to my show— ah , fuck , I knew it, so fucking hot— god you’re so wet for me— so sexy,” Hizashi leans in to catch Izukus lips in a kiss, swiping his tongue over Izuku’s teeth, clumsy with need. “Sexy— fucking so hot, so smart— your cute too…!”
Izuku's stomach flutters even as he turns such a dark red he can see it creeping down his chest. “W-wait that’s—?“
“And you’re smart , youre so fuckin’ smart!” Hizashi is speeding up, not the pace he’d had before but quick shallow thrusts that keep him pressed against Izuku's clit. He looms over him, locking their eyes together as he takes hold of Izuku’s wrists. “You work hard too, every day, worked so hard to get to where you are. And you’re brave! One of the bravest people I’ve ever met!”
This was definitely the wrong type of embarrassment, it had to be. Izuku rolls his spine anyways, planting his feet on the bed to give himself leverage to lift his hips.
Hizashi meets him from the new angle, their bodies connecting in slow, rhythmic thuds. “You’re so amazing Izuku. You've got awful taste in men but I’m not gonna complain! I’m in love with you— I’ve been in love with you for the last year— fuck , I’m getting close Izuku— can we go on a date, huh?”
Izuku squeals in, thrashing his head from side to side as Hizashi tortures his g-spot . “You can’t say stuff like that when you’re inside me!”
“I wanna be inside you all the time, Izuku, so I’m gonna be saying all sorts of things!” Hizashi laughs as he ruts against him, the sound cutting off as he pants for breathe. “Come on, fuck , go on a date with me! M’gonna fuck you full of cu m, fuck you full, fuck you full, fuck , fuck ! Go out with me , fuck me, fuck fuck please—“
“Okay, yes, fine— Ahh! ” Izuku yelps as Hizashi crashes down on top of him, pushing as deep as he can go as his hips suddenly go wild.
“Thank you thank you fuck fuck so good fuck gonna take you fuck oh fuck!”
It’s obvious when he comes, the arching of his back, the gravelly whine, the way his hips stay in as tight as they can while still twitching and shuddering against him. Izuku squeezes him with his own thighs to the best of his ability, and a few moments too late wonders if the arms he wraps around Hizashi’s back are uncomfortably cold. Hizashi doesn’t complain or react to them though, huffing out breaths against Izuku's neck as he gives a last few purposeful thrusts before going boneless atop him.
The weight is nice. Full torso pressure, warm and a little too sticky from sweat and.. everything else. There is a tickling sensation against Izuku's ass,which he thinks must be the cum dripping out. The idea is a little bit gross but also very, very sexy and Izuku can’t help but grind his clit against Hizashi since they were already pressed so tightly together.
He wants it to go unnoticed but of course Hizashi presses right back. He presses a kiss to Izuku’s neck, then another to the apple of his cheek. “Wanna go for round two?” He asks and Izuku whines at the idea.
“No! I need a shower and to change the sheets—!“
“We can lay a towel down!“
“— and I need a break! We can go again tomorrow, I need a rest!”
“Mmm,” Hizashi rumbles his voice like a purr, rolling his hips in a teasing circle. More cum slips out, and Izuku can tell that the cock inside him is soft now, slippery and smaller than before, but not so rigid. The less regular stimulation feels good. Teasing, not so overwhelming. “Tomorrow,” he agrees. “After our date?”
Izuku turns his face to the side, briefly catching Hizashi’s lips. “After our date.”
Hizashi presses in harder, tongue tickling the roof of Izuku’s mouth until he whines. He breaks the kiss when Izuku turns away, moving to his neck instead. “Or maybe before our date?”
“M-maybe.”
Hizashi’s dick twitches inside him, hard enough to make Izuku gasp. “Orrrr during it?”
“Hi-Hizashi!”
.
They don’t manage to come together during the second round (and neither of them cum during the third, twisted on top of eachother in Izuku’s walk-in tub). When it finally happens two weeks later after Izuku’s first solo patrol with the Dynamight Agency Izuku barely even notices it, rocking back against Hizashi and begging for more.
What they have isn’t perfect.
It’s barely even normal.
But for the first time in his life, Izuku is exactly where he wants to be.