Chapter Text
Twenty four sets of trepidacious eyes stare at Aizawa's stone cold expression. Lips on the verge of a sheer and none of the usual grumpy affection in that vacuous orb.
"No words can truly express the depth of my disappointment."
It was equivalent to a blow when they were baby fledglings in 1A. Vicious and merciless, relishing in the agonised reactions he received, Aizawa plowed on.
"I taught you better than this frankly cruel and narcissistic behaviour. To cut someone off the minute you can, because he has given you his very being, his health and mind and blood, because his ability to sacrifice himself for you had dried up? Rather than taking this as your opportunity to repay and protect him, you abandoned him."
There was multiple choked off rebuttals that were silenced by a glowing scarlet eye l, that of a predator circling its pray, just itching to observe the moment they realise their inevitable fate.
All except the boldest, or most idiotic, of them all.
"That's not true at all! We're heroes, he's a civilian, of course we don't cross paths as often-"
"Then you make time. He may not have a license but that doesn't mean he is not a hero. Izuku Midoriya is a hero, and always will be." Each word was bit out like the twist of a knife, scraping against bone and nerves as it mashed flesh into a throbbing pulp. Blood oozes from the biological sponge, bleeding from their eyes, pathetic sniffling bodies hiccuping and clutching their mouths.
But Aizawa wasn't done. Not even close.
"You are all failures of people, abominations of friends. If you sympathy and humanity is so lacking then I heavily debate your efficiveness as heroes. You let Izuku and I down massively, and I will never forgive you."
Towards the back, Kirishima wailed into a slick palm, bent over and he hyperventilated. Kamanari's arm was wrapped around the redhead's shoulders, pulling them close together as salty tears pooled together.
Bakugou was, for once, completely silent, not even murmuring curses and insults under his breath. As if he had sent a ghost. It was clear there was a cacophony of noise rattling around his skull, a chorus of discombobulated voices all contradicting and belittling each other.
The previously self proclaimed Dekusquad were also soundless against the backdrop of Aizawa's terse words. Todoroki in particular was cold with the chill of the rant, small ice crystals forming on his eyelashes and fingers.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, barely there, into the void of space where Izuku would have been, if they were sitting together. "I… I didn't…"
"It's really not our fault, sensei, " Iida crowed, although more subdued than his usual hand chopping, "Heroes are busy-"
"Too busy to message or call? Too swept off of your feet to involve him in planning parties or hang ours? Or just too overloaded to remember he existed?" With a click, Iida's jaw snapped closed, but Aizawa wasn't done, steam rolling through with steam pouring from his nose, "Don't kid yourself. You weren't too busy, you just didn't care. So absorbed in your own life you left one of the most pivotal parts behind."
With a swish of finality, his capture weapon trailing behind him like a feather on a string, Aizawa stalked from the room, finally satisfied he had avenged his new son.
He didn't care for the wet eyes or warbling cries. It wasn't his problem anymore, he had more important people to worry about. Namely, his husband and sons, who were laying the table and stirring soup as he strode across paving stones.
Today had been the best day in Izuku's recent life. Not that difficult to top shivering in a crumbling half-built building, it was still an achievement that he wanted to mark. Small goals reached were just as deserving as large scale goals, her voice echoed, the identifiable sanitised therapist tone she used whenever she spoke, and stimulated the reward center of the brain leading to more consistent progress over the longer term.
So he allowed himself to feel the joy of the day, pride at having been part of it, as he curled up beside Hitoshi on the sofa, watching idly with weary eyes as the other thrashed a twisted beast with a chipped battleaxe the same size as the playable character. Hitoshi had tried to explain the premise, corrupting old blood that spawned religions and hunters that roamed the depopulated gothic setting, but at some point Izuku stopped listening and instead relished the vibrations of his voice, curled up on Hitoshi's lap like an overgrown kitten. His fingers flexed and kneaded at the blanket, content to simply doze in peace.
Shifting brought back further into the world for a short while before a large hand splayed across his head, soothing the movement.
"When do you have to go for patrol?" Izuku murmured. He knew Hitoshi mostly worked nights and early mornings, but he knew the performative bureaucracy involved, that at some point the paperwork had piled high enough to warrant a shift during the day.
In response, Hitoshi hummed, continuing to muss up the green hair, not seemingly hampered by only having a single hand to play.
"I'm not. Took some time off so I could spend time with you. I haven't really taken any meaningful time off since I started, so there was a bunch of PTO that was begging to be used."
Izuku froze, the pleasant haze lifting so rapidly he could be convinced that his ears popped. "You… took time off, to take care of me?"
It hadn't even been a vague thought in his mind, a possibility that someone would take such an outlandish action for him. It boggled his brain a bit, swirling his thoughts to even try and comprehend it.
Beside him though, Hitoshi was entirely nonplussed at the admission, continuing to ruffle Izuku's hair as if petting a rather grumpy cat.
"Of course I did. I wanted to take care of you, since you weren't doing it yourself. You seem to think you're not worth it, but you are. I'd put you over heroics any day, no question."
Izuku blue screened.
Heroics, Hitoshi's dream since he knew what they were, that had survived being crushed by every single person in his life and years, held onto with bloody knuckles and open wounds, wasn't as important as Izuku is.
He didn't know how to respond. It was just such an obscene statement, something that couldn't possibly be true but there was such sincerity in those purple eyes.
A long pause, to the point that Hitoshi started to shift minutely underneath him, thigh muscles flexing against his neck.
"Oh." is the highly intelligent, thoughtful answer that left Izuku's lips after a while.
And for some reason, that made Hitoshi laugh.
Not a polite chuckle, a full body soul-deep hysterical cackle that made his eyes squint with the shape of his gaping mouth. It was long and loud and echoed off the walls, and Izuku's pulse raced as he was lured into the fairy circle, and then they were both clutching at each other and chortling, pure and joyous and full of life.
Sushi raced from their spot underneath the sofa, darting towards Hizashi and Aizawa's bedroom, as if trying to escape the insanity before it reached their refined neural pathways.
A long, awkward journey, humidity raising for every member of the public cramming themselves into the tin tube. Someone was coughing in the corner, wet and hoarse, and a business man was snoring nasally as he stood there, swaying with the movement of his wheels screeching against the track.
Initially Hizashi tried to break the tension, asking questions about his flat, asking if the landlord would let them in without a key. Stonewalled by silence, eventually he stopped, pulling out his phone and tapping away, presumably texting Shouta updates on him.
Izuku was many things but being unobservant was not one of them. He knew about the monitoring, the check ups, from all members. Hitoshi wasn't as skilled as the other two about the motions, his slight of hand not as developed, so Izuku had even managed to catch glimpses of a group chat, his name in most messages. It was embarrassing, frustrating and wondrous in equal measures, that they cared that much, their investment in his train wreck of life. Strangely though, after talking to Hitoshi about it, he felt more sure in his place. Not secure by any means but a tiny bit less like a cockroach living under their appliances.
Eventually Hizashi switched to a complicated word game in German that Izuku had no chance of following, because Hizashi was ridiculously verbal-linguistically intelligent. The number of languages the mad man knew had never been confirmed but there books in at least five different languages in the house that Izuku was certain didn't belong to anybody else.
The train screeched to a halt and the doors opened.
Distractions from the surroundings gone, it left Izuku to wallow in his surfacing anxieties. Sharp yellow eyes searched their surroundings curiously, growing increasingly wary the further they wandered into the poor areas of town.The pavement was cracked underneath their feet, a few drunkards were passed out in the alleyways tucked behind vending machines that hummed and whirred with faulty wiring.
Nobody expected him to have lived in a nice place by any means, but Izuku still felt shame crawl up his skin like a spider, tiny legs prickling at the overstimulated nerves with every jerky motion. Stomach flipping and gurgling dangerously, hands clenched as tightly as his dysfunctional body would allow, Izuku forced steady breaths through gritted teeth, staunchly ignoring any side eyeing from his companion. He couldn't stand to see the pity or revulsion twist long features into a sneer, acknowledging that this where Izuku belong, in the soused filth being dripped onto by murky liquids the ran from the loose roof tiles, small chunks of grotty porcelain raining down on his as he slumbered, waking up with black stained cheeks and bite marks from the rodents that shared his squallied living quarters.
Beyond all of the intense self-deprecation, locked behind a door that he hadn't acquired the key to just yet, Izuku was so glad that he wasn't alone. Even if it meant being judged by someone he respected greatly, having Hizashi there gave him strength and hope, that maybe he didn't deserve this, and that he did have support.
That would be a future revelation, made within floral walls to the sound of a pen scraping rapidly on paper.
Feet slowed and they finally arrived at the squat.
Unfortunately, the house was as Izuku left it. Unfinished and damp, saturated wallpaper clinging to waterlogged timber frames despite the week having been dry. Moss and mold cross bred into an extensive teeming colony of green, a mass that pressed down on the weak supports and made the entire form tremble in the mild breeze that whooshed through its empty ribcage.
"This is where you were staying?"
And Izuku knew Hizashi didn't mean it like that, but the knee jerk reaction to the tone of his voice was judgment, scorn. Embarrassment flourished, lips pursed as he nodded, striding inside quickly to both escape and detract from the grotesque appearance of his previous lodgings.
Inside wasn't any better, despite Izuku having distinct memories that it had been. Maybe that was him deluding himself, a shield from his subconscious or a hallucination caused by the black mold that speckled the cracks of the walls. Blooms of algae, scattered with rat carcasses that had eaten said plantlife, stood alongside it, bringing the acrid perfume of earth and decomposition.
Like the outside, he was determined not to linger, so he pressed on, moving from the lush room to the small space he'd cleaned out underneath the stairs.
Black mold aside, it was marginally better than the rest of the cesspool. At the very least there were no actively decaying carcasses in this abode, only spiders and a layer of dark crud that clung to the skin like soot. A six by six foot hole that was just big enough for Izuku to cram his short frame into but offered little else. A small sleeping bag tucked tightly into one corner beside his faded yellow backpack from before middle school. That's what he was after all, since he'd squirrelled all of the legal documents he'd managed to obtain a copy of after his mother suggested he find shelter elsewhere.
It was very simple, barely two minutes to retrieve, and yet he felt like he'd stripped off a layer of skin. Mournfully exposed by the few hundred seconds that Hizashi had had to spend in the place that Izuku had slept for a year.
"Right, let's go," he slung the slightly damp backpack over his shoulder and hustled Hizashi out with a firm hand, the wrist a furnace of heat underneath Izuku's own. For some reason Hizashi dragged his feet a bit, head bobbing around the space despite Izuku's attempts to vacate as quickly as possible.
Even with that, they were out of the street in barely any time.
Only a few meters away the air was already fresher, petrichor swelling in Izuku's lungs as he hungrily tried to erase his hideous truths. He firmly avoided any sightings of Hizashi's face the entire train ride back to the apartment, reproach plaguing every twitch of his body for the next hour.
A blanket of grey smog laid over the sky, the moon barely able to peek through the congestion. No stars, all concealed, as if to remind him that he was here, in the house, rather than in an astronomical void of other worldly silence. Life still shone up into the sky in beams of light and towering glass that disappeared into the ether, crossing into the field of death and absence.
For the first time in a very long while, Izuku didn't want to join it. He wanted to be right where he was, sat on a threadbare sofa with a hug of cooling tea clutched to his aching hands, joints calming at the heat with the scent of peppermint drifting upwards. Sushi had claimed him as theirs, so he was also supporting the weight of a pudgy black cat that was regaling him with their best car impression.
Izuku was content.
In this moment, he felt completely at ease. He was hopeful for the future, able to breath around the underlying constant buzz of anxiety and what ifs, able to look at the world with clear eyes and see things for what they are rather than what they could mean. Literalism, physic thought patterns and disastrous predictions were the technical terms for them. And having a word to explain himself, even if it was another tally on all the irreparable issues Izuku has, was helpful to such an extreme it was dizzying.
The same day he told Shouta and Hizashi about his mental processes, they began to explain their actions more thoroughly, dispelling any self-loathing based theories that rattled around his leaking brain.
People cared about him. Truly about his person, not his abilities or how he could benefit them, they were delighted to have his dysfunctional brain in their lives despite the effort and additional work it created.
Sushi made an odd snorting noise before returning to the bone-tingling vrooms, paws unconsciously kneading the weighted blanket covering his gaunt legs.
From the corner of his eyes, Izuku spied purple, turning very slightly so as to not disturb the kitty, spying Hitoshi as he entered the kitchen, stretching with a few pops. There was an aura of exhaustion surrounding him, one much more prevalent than usual, bordering on sluggish fatigue. Combined with the red-rimmed eyes, he found a kinship with the man.
Hitoshi looked over to the cat, and leapt into the air upon seeing Izuku staring at him, a curse tumbling from those thin lips.
"Nightmare?" Izuku offered, tilting his head, trying not to smile as Hitoshi leant against the counter with a hand on his chest.
That seemed to disgruntled him further, eyes wide as they pinpointed onto Izuku's shadowed form, the curtain of dim light broken up by stars projecting onto his pallid skin. As Izuku laughed, it looked like a celestial being, maw gaping and corporal form fluid, dark waves of a hair like substance silhouetting a crown atop the round head.
"I'm not psychic or an alien," Izuku quipped, only proving Hitoshi's very logical theory.
There was a pause as Izuku's giggles died down, leaving them in silence with a sullen tilt to his lips. "You never used to mumble. It's an honour, truly. I'm glad we're… close again."
"I love you."
It startled them both, Hitoshi moreso, the words leapt from his throat without conscious thought or consent.
Now both of them look like rabbits, still as if death were creeping closer.
"I didn't mean that. Actually, I did, I do love you, but I didn't mean to say it l. Not now, when you- I'm going to stop talking now."
Hitoshi spun, sleep deprivation adling every moment and mental process to such a degree that he could have kissed the ground even it was smooth and flat.
However, across on the sofa, Izuku patted the cushion beside him, smiling congenially. "It's about time we actually talked about it."
Once again moving without a thought, Hitoshi complied, perching awkwardly beside the man he's just confessed to.
"I'm really flattered, Hitoshi," Izuku began, deliberate with each letter, seemingly not noticing as Hitoshi turned a vibrant shade of crimson across from him, "And I do return your feelings. I care about you, and I do really like you in a romantic sense, it's just… you know I'm unwell. And I don't think I can be the partner you deserve. At least, not anytime soon, not while I'm sick."
As Hitoshi so often did with him, Izuku paused, stroking Sushi as the other gathered his thoughts, obvious in the twitch of his cheek and hand circling the back of his own neck. Conversations so earnest were never easy, there was no need to rush. Words could be formed leisurely between them.
When Hitoshi did finally speak, it was well articulated and candid, a raw edge to his tone. "Neither of us are emotionally prepared to be in a relationship. I… it was inappropriate of me to even bring it up now. But the sentiment is there, and I just wanted to let you know that I care deeply for you. I will continue to have this affection towards you for as long as time exists. I'll be here for you, for whatever you need, for however long you, regardless of them. Regardless if anything more ever happens."
Speech over, Hitoshi released a deep breath, looking emotionally wrung out. He twisted the thread on his pajamas, picking at it with short nails.
Feeling merciful, Izuku smiled at him, admiring the vulnerability in his features, the drooping eyelids that spoke of anguished truth.
"I'm going to bed now." he spoke softly.
For once, Izuku didn't take the relief at his absence as insulting or dislike. Warmth seeped into his limbs at the revelation.
Although as he hesitated at the entrance to the hallway, Izuku cast a glance over his shoulder, observing how Hitoshi had buried his face into Sushi. "I love you. And someday I do want to be with you, in a romantic sense. But I won't ask for you to wait for me."
With that, Izuku fled, feeling the bubble of the soft atmosphere pop. He felt flayed, cut open and exposed as someone rooted through his intestines with single minded focus on touching as much surface as possible.
Still, and this was yet another thing he would realise ruminating over the conversation, Izuku was glad that they had the conversation. Pressure had been building gradually, a tension that warped expectations as their touches lingered but reminded behind a confused fog wall. Clarity and open communication is what his current life was based upon after all, and it was working.
Izuku felt almost human. Messy, pained and solid.
It was such a beautiful feeling.
It happened one night, approximately a month later, after eating the most delicious hot pot that Hizashi had prepared. A month of normal behaviour, sincere affection in the doting Hitoshi forced upon Izuku, small snacks and mugs of tea and putting on his comfort shows despite not enjoying them as much as him.
Randomly, when they were saying goodnight, wandering down the hall together, Izuku had the urge to kiss him. To press himself to Hitoshi's thin lips and express every ounce of gratitude and love into him, press it deep into flesh until there wasn't all his aches were lost to the tide of his heart. And such a strong heart it was, pumping skillfully to propel that incredible body and fuel the most marvelous mind.
For once, Izuku didn't restrict himself. He fully indulged in the urge, inebriated in its ambrosia as he curled forward and held Hitoshi. Lured in by the siren's song until he was willing to be consumed in his entirety, crushed between razor teeth as long as their bodies were tangled together.
It was only a minute, the illusion of time tricking his glazed senses into the force stretching on for eternity. Those lips pressing back against him, long fingers wrapping around his wrists and waist and in his hair, the soft breathing as they broke apart wetly.
Izuku blinked, and realised there was a single tear trailing down his cheek, wetting his lashes and obscuring the bewitching sight before him.
"What do you see?" Hitoshi asked softly, hands pressed intimately on Izuku's bony hips. His fingers twitched with the urge to caress, to worship and reassure
He had changed a lot since graduating. And not just emotionally.
Muscle had abated, not entirely disappearing but leaving him a slinky build; his round baby face was the only plush part left. Gathering what he could from the meals eaten together, this was a result rather than the intended consequence, which was reassuring enough for him to let a lot of the disordered eating be labelled as unintentional oddities.
Even so, his gut wretched every time Izuku flashed a scant collarbone from underneath shirts, or nobbley knees from under baggy shorts.
"I see… someone who failed. Someone who had power but fumbled it and now… is worthless. A weak, frail man with…"
Izuku couldn't continue, hiccuping forcing him to stop his slow drawl of internal thoughts that he never wished to see the light of day. But he needed to do this. This was for him. Hitoshi would never let him down, not now, not cradling him like a critically endangered flower on the brink of bloom, fingers soothing the small of his back up and down, up and down, a repetitive motion that Izuku utilised as he desperately tried to ground himself.
Knowing it would take the strongest weapon in his arsenal, Hitoshi went for the jugular.
"Do you think All Might failed after he became Small Might?"
Immediate response was what he was banking on, and he was not disappointed. Izuku's voice was scandalised, "Of course not! He received injuries battling as a hero, fighting to protect. They're a mark of his prowess. I would never look down upon him for that. It's a mark that he fought with all he had, to the expense of his health."
Hitoshi stilled. He stared deeply into Izuku's eyes from the reflection, a pregnant silence as he waited, coiled and tense, like a snake watching its prey, eager for it to realise what was happening and relax into the inevitable.
Izuku had no such plans or even an inkling. "What does that have to do with me? All Might's dedication has nothing to do with my failure and downfall. I'm quirkless now! He was... oh."
"Yes. Oh." Hitoshi parroted with a smug grin on his face.
Feeling unsure, Izuku continued, desperate for the other to understand. "It's different. He worked so hard, and he lost One for All after fighting for so long. I barely had it for three years, and I did so much harm with it. I… I failed."
"Oh, and his damage per save statistic isn't one of the highest in the country?"
Izuku floundered, his gut dropping for some reason. His brain ached, whirring endlessly at mach speed, unable to come up with anything concrete or even coherent. A whimper left him as he wavered helplessly.
"No, Izu, I need you to see yourself. Do you see less of Shouta for losing his leg and eye? Or Bakugou, and how he can hardly use his quirk now, because of his efforts in the war? Are any of these people failures?"
Hitoshi's stern unforgiving tone paused, calming. His next speech was much softer, tender and sure. "You are not a failure, or anything your head is telling you. You are strong and terrifying and scaringly intelligent, you could have been a hero without a quirk. You are a veteran who fought for his country when he was only a child, and you won. You were victorious."
He paused. Took in a breath.
In Hitoshi's arms, wrapped tightly around his shoulders, Izuku trembled, shaking like a leaf in a storm, tears oozing down his cheeks, rivers of released self-hatred and loathing and pure relief, trickling down and soaking into the carpet.
"Beyond all of that, you are a good person. You're sweet and fun and caring to a fault. Nothing could come close to making me happier than you have, and you persevere despite everything because when you have a scent you follow it to the source. What you want you get, even if it means breaking the world apart to get it. I… there aren't enough words to illustrate how spectacular you are. There never will be."
All thoughts were murky and obtuse, silt kicked up the river bed obscuring any logic as he waited into Hitoshi's lean arms. A fresh drop landed on a new scar, barely a few centimeters across just on the top of his pale bicep.
Fingers smoothed over the rough skin, slow and deliberate as they felt it out. Izuku's fingers were stiff as they pressed oh so gently into the subtle indent.
"I missed so much...'
"So did I. I missed so much of your life, and I will stop apologising for it. I fucked up Zu."
Izuku hiccuped wetly, the echo of a chuckle.
"We're together now."
The corpse of a heart, rotting and addled with maggots, was home to new life. A hearth of flames in his chest, warming his blood and singing sweetly with crackles of joy and sparking light into the monotone world around him.
"Oh, my little owlet, your eyes are incredible. Big, round, I can see your thoughts flitter past. You're something special, Zu."
Powerless to defy the siren's sensuous song, Izuku tilted his head, feeling the weight of Hitoshi on his shoulder, and pressed a soft kiss to those thin lips that whispered saccharine praise in the blackness of night equally as much in the harsh light of the sun.
Those lips responded, and he swayed back into that strong body, a tall form of tightly packed muscle and elegant curves. Hitoshi hummed into the piquant kiss, humming a quiet melody of his heart as his tongue licked into a soused cavern, notes bouncing off of fleshy walls and into Izuku's brain.
Wet noises echoed through the room, unhurried in their tempo, as bodies swayed together as one, twirling until Izuku was pressed up against the mirror, the surface fogging as they moved against it, whining smoothly.
Black clothes fell to the floor, joining the pile, zippers almost overtaking the appreciative sighs that left Izuku, shuddering against the cold glass. Calloused fingers danced along scarred skin, moving down bone and to new stores of fat and muscle, appreciative as they mapped the changes.
It wasn't their first time, the first time, ending in tears and apologies, but practice had done well, and Hitoshi could feel every small adjustment of his love's body as it grew into a new shape, one that he could cradle and love without worrying about it shattering in his clumsy hands.
"You're so radiant," he rasped against swollen nipples, kissing them deeply and holding them between his teeth as Izuku surged with movements, quivering as he pressed into the sting and relief.
Gradually, after making sure Izuku was loose-limbed and relaxed, Hitoshi moves down, nosing at and taking each inch of his skin into his teeth, murmuring incoherent words muffled. Below his pecs where the ribs became prominent, squeezing oh so gently at the new layer of fat that covered the precious bone, he moaned softly as his tongue lathe across perfect skin. Hair, scar tissue and knotted joints all felt heavenly under his tongue, plump and salty and pure Izuku. Teasing the skin, bares brush of teeth before retreating lower down to start all over again.
Above him, fists clenched in purple hair, breathy gasps and a heaving chest, green eyes watched on with blazing awe as someone adored every square of his body, licked up his waist and side like it was a compulsion, stroked up and down his legs as if they were made of unclouded emerald cut by a master artisan. A trail of devotion fit for a god left in Hitoshi's wake, and maybe he could believe he was worth all of this, so long as that mouth stayed on him and those hands treasured his dips and flaws.
The delicious drag, nerves tingling with glee, unable to contain the tears that roll down his cheeks, for what reason Izuku doesn't know and now isn't the time to analyse because Hitoshi is mouthing low and lower, his hip and then his thigh.
Skilled fingers dug viciously into a knot right at the base of his back, and Izuku practically convulsed against the mirror as he whined, high and thin, pain and pleasure dosing his blood until it roared with a weighty thwap of its coppery wings.
Helpless to resist, Izuku reached out, feeling up Hitoshi's lithe body, squeezing at taut muscle on his arms and his thick waist that Izuku could barely hold the sides of. Drool was threatening to leak from perpetually half open lips, zaps of lurid need driving all actions. He trailed lower, groping at thin legs and a flat rear before dipping into the crack. Already, the skin was sinfully slick, and Izuku had to break away from their sloppy kiss to pant desperately, a dog with his tongue sticking out as his brain melted into one of a primates'. All that existed was Toshi's exquisite skin, the sharp jut of bones digging into his own hips and the potent gluttony that poisoned him for the rest of his natural life.
"Did you already know?" Izuku whispered, fingers curiously trying to crook into the stickiness, only managing a small amount before the joints cramped up, blocked by gnarled scar tissue and pain. Never had he wished to have fine motor skills than now, scenarios racing through like a film, vivid images that made his back arch.
Hitoshi's eyes were soldering bonfires as they gazed up at Izuku, half lidded and hot. "You have no idea how insane you make me. I didn't know, but I hadn't known any of the many other times I'd fantasised about you."
Hot breath, damp and cloying across
"Sometimes it's like this, me above you holding you and kissing every speck of you I could. Other times I'm mapping your freckles with a finger as you shake and sob with pleasure. But you're always perfect, something beyond this world and others, something that I'm addicted to in a heady craving. Fuck, Zu, it's so much better here."
The end of the speech became whiny and Izuku's heart was trying to escape his ribs as it fluttered and flew.
Hitoshi, like the full throttle man he is, shakes his legs out before crouching above him. Laughter bubbled up in his chest before he could quash it, and Hitoshi pouted above him, glistening and adorable and sexy beyond anything in the dim bedside lamp.
"You look so serious," Izuku whispered,
Leaning forward, Hitoshi licked up his cheek at a leisurely pace, stopping just above his ear, lingering long enough that a trickle of saliva dribbled down to his jawline. "Deadly, darling."
Heedless to the chaos wrecked in his wake, Hitoshi felt a hand back to Izuku's lap and dropped down, a hard thwack underlaid by a strangled gurgle. Green hair jumped as it thudded back into the mirror, wiping condensation off of the surface and melting the fluffy mass into a mass of wet clumps that stuck to their reflection.
"Tosh- Tosh- ah Toshi, oh God fuck."
Since finding his home, a place in the world to call his own, Izuku's babbling and muttered rants had come back swinging, full force and constant about the smallest things. Now was no different - a stream of discordant words that only barely obeyed logic in Izuku's own mind. But for some reason, it made Hitoshi clutch at him harder, nails digging into his shoulder muscles, one unintentionally falling right into a patch of skin near his neck that made Izuku shout and jackrabbit with little consciousness.
"Keep talking to me my owlet, please, I love your voice, so perfect, makes me so happy when you ramble," whispering under his breath, Hitoshi moved like an elegant dancer, tensing at the right times and relaxing into gravity when needed. It was a sign his love was happy, and that made him hotter than anything. Made his skin crawl with fire ants as he undulated against wide set hips and relished in their connection.
They cried out together, moaned together and came together, sweaty limbs tangled in a knot on the carpet, hand prints smearing across the mirror. Their bodies fluttered and jerked as one unit.
Time's cruel hand couldn't grasp them or tear them apart. Hitoshi was now on his back, legs either side of his leg in a box split, guttural gasps being forced from his lungs by the intrusion in his innards.
Izuku was perfect, oh so perfect, and hot, boiling against Hitoshi's skin, thin skin peeled away revealing taut muscles that bunched under tendons and veins with their rabbiting thrusts.
"Zu, zu, Izuku," Hitoshi prayed, wailing the name of his deity, on the verge of combusting like a white dwarf.
"Toshi, To, Toshi, Hitoshi," came the answer, echoing from the void of space, a benevolent being answering each needful sob.
Izuku stared at the text with burning eyes and trembling fingers. He wasn't sure how he felt, and whenever grounding didn't he was closer to a panic attack than comfortable, so he decided it wasn't productive to ruminate on the cause.
Beside him, Hitoshi shifted in his slumber, tossing to his side and wrapping a long arm around Izuku's hips, bare chest peeking out from underneath the duvet.
"I'm okay," Izuku reassured the sleeping man, smiling as the unconscious twitches in his love's face.
Enboldened, Izuku hoovered his finger over the contact for a few seconds, before pressing down and blocking the number.
And then Izuku put his phone back on the bedside table and tucked himself back in, limpetting to Hitoshi with a contented sigh.
After a few minutes, Sushi returned, having been disturbed by the buzzing device, and reclaimed their spot wedged between the two.
Soothed by the rumbling, and the gentle rapping of Hitoshi's airways, Izuku dozed, relishing the lucid state between unconsciousness and intense reality. A small sliver of moonlight cast itself through the window, highlighting Hitoshi's pasty skin stretched over high defined cheekbones, sparkling like a vampire.