numbertwohero | @microwaveable

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@microwaveable

His mother has good days and bad days.

On the good days, she's sweet and kind. She greets him with a hand on his cheek and a smile, she asks him how his classes are going, she remembers the friends he mentions and teases him about being popular with the girls. They go for long walks in the facility grounds and she tells him about the plants she's growing in the little space they've let her have, and he ends the visit with a hug, her thin, fragile form in his careful arms, and he wonders at how much smaller than him she is already. On the good days, he leaves with hope and renewed determination to become the best he can be, to show his father that number two isn't just second place and it's a place and a life to be proud of.

This was not a good day.

This was the kind of day where he opened her door and she looked at him for that first second with fear and hatred and sorrow, where her eyes lingered on his left side too long, no matter how much he tried to keep her on his right. This was the kind of day where every response was distracted and her voice too high-pitched and her laughter sharp and strained. This was the day that, when he reached out to stop her from walking in front of a speeding golf cart full of groundskeepers, she flinched from his touch and slapped him across the face.

She'd apologized, horror on her face and heartbreak in her voice, and he'd said it was fine, and he loved her, but he left soon after, hurrying back towards the school dorms where he could just...shut himself away. It was still early on Sunday. Everyone would still be out, or training, and he could have time to put himself back together. His right cheek is still burning from her slap, stinging and red and almost bruised, and it aches with a pain sharper and more real than the phantom ache of his scarred left side. It's a strange feeling. Normally that side doesn't feel hot. Everything is backwards. Everything is backwards, and his chest is tight, and he can feel the tears trying to burn at his eyes, but it's fine, he's almost there--

--and then he rounds the corner of the stairs heading up towards the fourth floor, and almost runs straight into Midoriya, coming down. Todoroki's eyes are wide, almost glassy, and his heart is racing, and it's only a second before he looks away, not quite flinching but all but vibrating with tension.

"...Sorry. I didn't see you there."

His voice is rough, strained, just as tight as his shoulders, and he waits for Midoriya to keep on going, to be tactful or distracted or whatever it is he needs to be, so he can finally make it up that last flight to his own floor and the safety of his room.

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Okay, he's slightly more concerned when Izuku just gives in and bursts into tears, but he isn't going anywhere save to slide off of Shouto and curl up against him instead, so maybe this is just something he needs to do. It's okay. It doesn't require any explanation or apology. As long as Izuku is okay, that's all that matters, he thinks, and just curls up with him, holding the other boy to his chest until he's done.

When Izuku sits up, Shouto props himself up on one elbow, bicolored eyes searching his face as if to be sure that everything's okay. "As long as you don't feel like you have to," he finally accedes, leaning into the touch of Izuku's lips against him. The arm that isn't braced against the bed lifts, a hand gently sliding over Izuku's cheek, helping clear away those streaked trails. It's his opinion that Izuku's learned to apologize for a lot of things that he doesn't need to apologize for. Here, at least, maybe he won't always feel like he has to.

After a moment, he sits up the rest of the way, brushing a kiss against Izuku's forehead. "You should have some water," he says, staying close for a moment before he rolls away, sliding off the bed and moving towards the small fridge to find a bottle. Once it's acquired, he climbs back in bed, handing it to the other boy and sliding in next to him again, pressed against his side. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere," he tells him, and reflects that for not the first time those words have a lot more than one meaning.

It's possibly something to be concerned about, except for the fact that it happens so often it's hard to worry that much. He'll swear up and down he's fine, and most of the time he is-- it's actually usually pretty obvious if he isn't, because it's a different sort of outburst. Regardless, the fact that Shouto just lets him have his fit and sits with him, curled and comfortable, means more than the smaller teenager can verbalize.

He sniffs roughly, smiling in a funny crooked way, and shakes his head. "No, I just want to," he explains, voice still scratchy from crying. He leans into Shouto's hand, closing his eyes and smiling. It's true, he does apologize for more than he needs to, but it's only partially by cause of other things. He's just... needlessly polite, on top of the bullying making him meek.

And meek he stays, to the point that when Shouto sits up and brushes his lips to his forehead, saying something about water before climbing out of bed, he just squeaks softly and folds inward to take up less space. He's... not entirely surprised by the water bottle, his mother would do the same thing, and he'd taken notice of Iida presenting him with water bottles every other hour or so (how did he do that, anyway?), but something about the specific gesture in this case makes his whole body feel warm in a way he doesn't expect. He twists, curling back against him so that their bodies are flush together. "Okay," he says, craning his neck to kiss his jawline. "...sorry, I. We were getting handsy and then I started crying instead." He swallows, hovering near his face. "...can I kiss you again?"

The kiss is met with a soft sigh as Shouto leans into the touch, wrapping an arm around Izuku's waist as the smaller boy leans into him. He's not in any rush, but the contact is so nice, so comfortable, and he thinks that maybe Izuku feels the same way about it. It's reassuring, in a way he's not sure he ever expected. He already wants more of it.

"Handsy?" There's a faint note of something in his voice that could pass for amusement if you squint really hard, and affection that would take more work to miss than it does to notice. "I guess that's one way to put it." He was definitely getting handsy, at least. It's a soft look he gives Izuku as his thumb skims over the other's hip, head tilted a little to one side as he watches his face almost like he's memorizing it. "You can kiss me any time you want," he says after just a moment, eyes dropping to Izuku's mouth. Again, maybe a little too honest, too earnest, but he means it.

He laughs quietly, turning inward to hide from him for a moment, his ears going red. They've been bumping uglies half the evening, and words are what fluster him. "Yes, handsy," he reiterates, turning to look at him finally. His expression is soft, and he shifts to bump his hip into Shouto's hand a bit for emphasis.

"Good, 'cause I might just kiss you all the time," he says, surprisingly shy. "...if that's okay."

Of course words fluster him. Izuku's always full of words, so many words, words he loves hearing. Shouto doesn't have nearly as many of his own, but to know that some of his own words can do something like that--have that kind of power, make him blush--it's a heady feeling.

Part of him wants to say something about how he likes being handsy. About how he'd like to use his hands more, especially as Izuku shifts his hip into his hand like that. But instead, all he can do is feel the way his heart races when he looks at his best friend, the way it feels like there's something warm and glowing inside of him that only Izuku can give him. All he can do is lean in closer, eyes half-closed as he slips a gentle hand over Izuku's jaw to tilt his head a little more. "More than okay," he murmurs, eyes briefly opening to look into Izuku's. "I'd like that a lot. We could start now, even." After all, why wait? Izuku's mouth is right there, soft and warm and he's eager to have that taste on his lips again, now that the tears seem to have passed for the moment.

"Patience is a virtue, Shouto," he says, scrunching his nose from smiling too hard. Despite his words, he's looping his arms up around Shouto's neck again, tangling his fingers in his hair and not giving him a chance to retort before he's kissing him again, slow and gentle. He stays there, just barely touching for a moment, and then turns his head to curiously open his mouth and lay claim to Shouto's lower lip, biting gently.

The rest of him, on the other hand, shifts to curl closer still, slotting himself back to his side and tangling their legs back together-- seems like tangled was the way they'd always start out.

Probably for the best that Izuku goes ahead and kisses him, because he might have something to say about that. He can be patient, after all. Probably. Maybe. Then again, maybe not where Izuku is concerned. Who would want to be patient when they're both right there, still both half-dressed, and no one's likely to interrupt for hours at least?

Fortunately, he doesn't get more than a faint sound out before Izuku's kissing him again, and that sound is followed by a different sound--less grumble and much more moan--when he tilts his head, the sensation of teeth on his lower lip causing that warmth in his chest to thread lower. It's different, feeling it there as opposed to those same teeth light against his collarbone, though both are very good feelings. Ones he wouldn't mind more of.

Like this being tangled together. He likes the feeling of not quite knowing where he ends and Izuku begins, the fuzziness of losing himself in the kiss, and his mouth moves against Izuku's as he leans into the other boy, hand sliding over the small of his back and fingers slipping below the waistband of his shorts as he pulls him closer.

That sound is downright sinful, and there's a sudden pocket of heat behind Izuku's stomach from it, and he easily remembers just how handsy they'd gotten before his outburst. He really needed to stop losing wars with tears and cockteasing himself. He bites just a touch harder on Shouto's lip before releasing it, drawing away enough to smile through half-closed eyes and lean forward at the hand against the small of his back.

He quirks a mischievous eyebrow at the way Shouto's hand finds its way below his waistband. "See? Handsy," he breathes, curling and uncurling his fingers in his hair, lightly scratching blunted fingernails against his scalp a moment, before one travels down the column of his neck and to his shoulder, and then along his side, fingertips skating feather-light over his skin. His hand presses flat against the cinch of his waist, thumb drawing idle patterns at his last rib.

Unconsciously, his hips shift forward and he hooks one leg around Shouto's, rubbing forward and making a quiet sound of his own. "B-but, could always be moreso."

That harder bite gets another sound from Shouto, half surprised but not at all unhappy. In fact, it's even more wanton that the first one, and his hand slips lower as Izuku pulls back, fingers deliberately splaying to grip one surprisingly muscular buttock, leaning into the feeling of fingers against his scalp. "Could be moreso," he agrees, and there's the tiniest smile on his own face as he just outright gropes Izuku, lips brushing the other's as he leans in.

There's the faintest twitch before he kisses Izuku, though; a quick little intake of air, followed by a little huff as Izuku's thumb traces those patterns over his ribs. It feels good, but it also tickles a little, honestly, and there's a trace of something that could be laughter in his voice as he finally kisses the other boy again. "Looks like I'm not the only one getting handsy, either."

The sound Izuku makes is not unlike a squashed squeaktoy, though he exhales a moment later with a much less G-rated sound, skin hot with embarrassment. He's always known Shouto to be rather bold, but he figures he'd never quite expected to be on the receiving end of that. Much less his butt.

Of course, any embarrassment over being groped vanishes the moment he catches that mirth in Shouto's tone, and he hovers barely an inch from him, going slightly cross-eyed to look at him. "...Shouto," he tests carefully, drumming his fingertips lightly in the same spot.

"Are you ticklish?"

The squeak is unbearably adorable, but the sound that follows it is anything but. In fact, it's incredibly hot, and Shouto can almost hear the rush of endorphins as he practically feels it in his bones.

Unfortunately, even his hand down Izuku's pants doesn't seem to be distracting him, and this time that twitch is even more noticeable under the other boy's drumming fingers, Shouto curling slightly and moving his arm inward, an almost defensive gesture. Ticklish? Very, and that husky laughter is even more evident in his voice as he avoids eye contact.

"Maybe a little...?"

Come on, Izuku, don't take advantage!

It's distracting, absolutely, just not quite enough to keep him off the prize of Shouto's laughter. The smile that crosses his features is absolutely melted, right at first, his features scrunching up as his lips pull away from his teeth and he folds forward to bump their foreheads together.

"That's adorable," he breathes, kissing his lips lightly. "And probably dangerous, and I'm going to file it away for later when you least expect it. You have the cutest laugh." Rest in pepperoni, Todoroki Shouto.

"You're adorable." The words are out before he even realizes he's thinking them, but he refuses to take them back, especially with Izuku smiling at him like that. Although there may be a slight flush spreading over his cheeks, anyway. A cute laugh? He thinks Shouto has a cute laugh. Dangerous, though...well, there's worse things than your--hm. Well, whatever Izuku is, right now, learning you're ticklish and delivering the most unintimidating threat you've ever heard. Definitely worse things. Leaning in, he kisses the other boy again, and once more for good measure.

"As long as you keep my secret, it'll be fine, probably."

Hm, indeed. That... was probably a conversation for later, which promised to be full of long-winded stuttered mumbling for them doing what they had without really discussing what they were. They'd expressed there were feelings, at least, but... Gosh, way to do things out of order.

He chitters his own little laugh, the sound something like a windchime, and nods.

"Only if you promise to laugh more."

It'll be fine. He's not worried about that conversation, or the results of it. He cares a lot about Izuku, and Izuku cares about him--whatever they figure out, it'll be fine. And right now...well, there's no shame in doing what they're doing here, anyway. Who's to say what order is the right order?

"I guess I could manage that." He's definitely smiling, the look on his face soft as he watches Izuku. "Although maybe not too much more in public. I think it might freak everyone else out."

That earns more laughter from Izuku, and he nods, covering his mouth with one hand to not get too carried away laughing. "Oh absolutely," he agrees, smiling widely at him. "...plus then it means I'm special." He doesn't... actually quite mean the sheer amount of personal exposure that statement bears, but there it is anyway.

"You are special."

Shouto doesn't even hesitate before saying the words. They're ones Izuku should hear more often, honestly. He's one of the most amazing people Shouto's ever met, one of the kindest and most selfless, the most brilliant and dedicated...even without these kinds of feelings, he'd still stand by those words. And he's not even slightly embarrassed by them, as might be evidenced by the way his smile softens, his hand sliding to cup the back of Izuku's neck, the way he leans his head forward against the other boy's and repeats them.

"You are," he murmurs softly, then places a kiss on Izuku's lips, gentle and lingering before it deepens again into something more urgent.

His whole face lights up like a little cherry tomato, making his freckles stand out and his eyes brighter until he scrunches them closed, his laugh getting quiet, embarrassed. His nose wrinkles and he laughs a little longer, like he can't quite stop, still chirping embarrassed little chuffs of sound as Shouto seals their lips together again. He stays that way until he presses into the gesture and it forces him to even out, and Izuku's hands shift to mirror Shouto's, threaded into the hair at the base of his neck to hold fast.

He draws back, but only just, to murmur quietly. "...so're you," he says, and then lets one of his hands trail along the outer line of Shouto's side to his hip.

He loves that laugh. All the different variations on it, delighted and embarrassed. He loves knowing that it's because of him. Even that blush brings its own particular wave of satisfaction. This is something he's done. Izuku feels this way because of him. It means something, more than he can say, and so do those words, coming from the boy who matters so much to him.

"Izuku," he murmurs in reply, that soft, vulnerable tenderness in his voice as he shifts closer yet again, lips pressing to the other's, then over his jaw. "Izuku," he whispers, and this time it's his turn to place a kiss against the join of his neck, to swipe his tongue against his collarbone, to suck a small, dark mark into skin that can be hidden by a t-shirt. Something that only he'll know is there. It's a heady rush of a feeling, that.

The mark draws a startled sound from him and he gasps, the sound almost a small yelp. It makes heat bloom in his face and neck again, making the mark look deeper still, and he tilts his head to let Shouto look over his work, eyes closed and hands kneading absently into the fabric at his hip and the hair at his nape.

"Shou," he breathes, not quite finishing his name. He purses his lips and squirms, shifting closer and pressing his own face into Shouto's neck, trying again. "Shouto," he ends the name with teeth against his skin, gentle but enough to be felt, and squirms his lower half closer still, starkly reminded of their awkward horny teenager situation.

The yelp is a little surprising, but also he can't seem to be terribly sorry for it, especially as he pulls back a little to look at his handiwork, at the flush that colors Izuku's skin, making him look even more like a strawberry. Something delicious to eat, and the idle thought makes his mind wander down much less idle paths, especially with the way the other boy breathes his name.

His head tilts back to allow Izuku more room, and his hand slides down Izuku's arm and over his hand, encouraging his grip. He wants to feel Izuku--fingers on his skin, their hearts beating against one another, teeth a gentle pressure against his throat that makes his nerve endings catch fire.

"Please--"

He's not sure what exactly he's asking for. More. Just more. More of all of this, more marks, more of Izuku's hands. More of everything, and his hips roll forward against Izuku's, a soft friction but a definite reminder of where they'd left off before.

He's managed to tangle his legs all up in Shouto's again, and uses the leverage to grind their hips together in an almost absent motion, breathing out roughly against his neck, through teeth which he presses just slightly harder into his skin.

"Mmn, please what," he asks, startled by the own huskiness to his voice. Moving away from the biting, he just peppers kisses up the column of his neck to his ear, pausing there just to breathe. "What do you want, Shouto?"

The harder press of teeth definitely touches on what he wants, coaxing a sound from his throat that's suspiciously close to a whimper. It's that, it's the way Izuku grinds against him, it's that husky sound in his voice that sends a shiver straight through him.

He almost can't answer when the other boy murmurs in his ear like that, hot breath tickling sensitive skin and making him feel almost feverish. He arches again in response, breath a shuddering sigh as he tries to form a sentence that isn't just you, I want you. His pants are uncomfortably tight, and he shifts a little on the bed, trying to find a better angle.

"Mmn--do that again?" He finally manages words, his own voice breathy and low. "It feels...really good--" All of this does, but that particular almost electric sensation was very, very nice.

He has to stop himself from asking what part, because he doesn't feel like he's really stopped doing a lot of things since this whole ordeal began. He wants to know every detail, what Shouto enjoys most, what he could maybe do without, and he's a little frustrated with himself for the itch to launch himself off his bed and take notes, but he focuses on the prize in his grasp instead.

"Hmm, this?" He doesn't really intend for his tone to come out as teasing as it does, but as his teeth clamp down on Shouto's throat again and he grinds their hips against each other and partly into the mattress, it dawns on him that it absolutely does. And maybe Shouto likes that part, too? It's going to be a struggle to remember every detail to write down later, really it is.

That's absolutely fair. But it doesn't make Shouto's answer less true; all of this. He wants more of all of this, and there's not a single thing Izuku has done so far that has made him feel less than tingly. And honestly, if he starts to forget any details, well. Shouto will be more than happy to do this again, so he can figure it all out.

For now, though, he seems to have guessed accurately, especially given the way Shouto gasps and then moans, fingers tangling in Izuku's curls and tugging him just a little closer. It hurts a little, but it's not exactly hurt, just something that makes him ache. Something that makes him want to writhe against Izuku as he rubs against Shouto yet again. And that startlingly teasing tone in his voice only makes him want it even more.

"Just like that," he manages, the words almost wanton as he sighs them, and one of his hands dips again to the curve of Izuku's hip, fingers sliding below his waistband to grab his ass again. What? He didn't mind handsy too much before...

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this icon cracks me up more than it should tbh

lmao it's a good icon tho

he do a succ

HE DO