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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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...

Izuku will happily take and continue to cause tingly. Tingly is good, he thinks. He'd be delighted to know Shouto was already on board for this happening again, too, in part because next time he figures he might have more of a chance to study him since it maybe won't be as overwhelming on his own end. Maybe.

That sound earns him a startled, squashed little squeak from Izuku, straight from his diaphragm, and he shifts his teeth to more gnawing. He hums, smiling, and nods.

"I should stop making you talk, but I like it," he mumbles, shifting to nip his ear gently. "I wanna hear everything you want."

It's not like he's going to make much of a secret of it, honestly. At least not to Izuku. Shouto's always been pretty honest with his classmate, right from the very beginning. This isn't so different--at least, not in that regard. In fact, he might want to do it again sooner rather than later. Especially if Izuku's going to keep saying things like that.

Shouto bites back another noise as Izuku nips at his ear, the sound half motivated by the feeling and half by his words. He likes it when Shouto talks? He wants to hear...

"Can we take these off?" He tugs at the waistband of Izuku's pants, shifts his own hips underneath him to indicate his own. "I want to feel you against me." It's a little embarrassing to say--almost as embarrassing as just how needy his voice sounds, husky and breathless--but saying the words gives him almost as much of a rush as the idea of it all.

A little embarrassing for sure-- it makes Izuku's ears turn scarlet and he has to stop and stare through Shouto for a moment. He asked to be told, but the reality of it is he's stunned by how frank he is. It's a good thing, because if he wants to feel him it's already several steps further on the intimacy scale, but... Wow. He swallows, nodding quickly, and disentangles himself from his classmate just for a moment.

"Yeah, we can... yeah. Um." He shifts his hands to the waistband of his own shorts, giving Shouto a questioning glance. He doesn't actually ask, but he wants to make sure he really wants this down to almost complete nakedness. He's still wearing boxers, sure, but--

Oh God his boxers are also All Might, aren't they.

The way Izuku stops and stares makes Shouto freeze for a moment, his expression questioning. Is it too much? He'd thought Izuku had suggested it himself, earlier, but maybe he'd misunderstood. Maybe it was too much, too fast. Maybe he should stop.

Shouto shifts as Izuku pulls away, one hand lightly touching his wrist, the other on his cheek, thumb stroking his jaw. "We don't have to, if you don't want to. This is okay, too. I just--want to do this, with you." He doesn't want to push too fast and ruin it. But also, his jeans have been getting progressively less comfortable and he really, really does want this. He wouldn't have said it if he wasn't sure.

"Oh-- no, no it's fine, I just." He can't articulate what's caused his brain to come to a screeching halt except that it's how he works. It's like the gears were moving too fast and something suddenly got tossed in the middle of them, so he's trying to figure out how to get things rolling again. Izuku.exe has stopped functioning, despite the fact that they've been rubbing all up on each other for upwards of thirty minutes. He scrunches his face, pressing his cheek into Shouto's hand.

"I do want to," he explains, voice quiet but still a little gravely from their actions. "I just got kinda caught up in my head about it I guess?"

Shouto listens as Izuku tries to explain. It's not a lack of want, he says, he just gets...caught in his head. Not that surprising. Izuku is always thinking, his thoughts always a mile a minute. He's smart as anything, and he applies himself. It's good, but it's also probably gotten in his way more than a few times, hasn't it?

Shouto watches him, doing some thinking of his own. And after a moment, he nods slowly, coming to his conclusions. "So...let me help?" The words are quiet, a little tentative. He's not sure how, exactly, but maybe if he can get Izuku to focus on him, instead...leaning in, he pulls Izuku close, into a lingering kiss. One kiss leads to another, his aim to get Izuku to relax into the touch, his fingers a gentle pressure on Izuku's jaw, and after a long moment his other hand slides from Izuku's wrist to the waistband of his shorts, tugging gently. Maybe if it's like this, it'll feel like less pressure?

Midoriya Izuku is nothing if not A Lot Of Thinking At All Times, really. He would probably argue most of Todoroki's own narrative on it-- for one, he was book-smart because he spent more time reading books and studying heroes than he did having proper conversations with most living humans, and he applied himself because he'd spent his first fourteen years slacking the fuck off sulking over not being as awesome as a jerkwad he looked up to.

Luckily none of that has to be discussed, because it was all internal. Shouto, at least, has the sense to keep things simple, to assess quietly and take action accordingly, rather than let his gears come to a screeching halt and stumble over how to even explain what happened. Bless Shouto, really.

And his plan works perfectly, in fact-- Izuku almost immediately melts into the touch, eyes sliding closed while his own fingers settle against Shouto's collarbones. It's not until the slim fingers of Shouto's wandering hand tug at his shorts that he catches on to the intent of it all, and he draws away with a shy, but absolutely teasing smile.

"Shoucchan, that's sneaky." He doesn't even realize he's outfitted him with his very own petname.

For a moment as Izuku pulls back, Shouto can feel his brain trying to go back into I-hecked-up mode, but it only takes a glimpse of that smile to make the momentary impulse vanish. That smile, and the name that goes with it, a name that sends a brand new rush of warmth through him that's got nothing at all to do with arousal and everything to do with what he feels for the boy in front of him. He can feel his own lips curling in a small smile as well, an almost mischievous look as he tugs lightly at that waistband.

"Is it? I thought I was helping," he answers, and the lightness in his smile is matched by something equally light in his voice. "I did offer." And he does mean it. If Izuku really wants this, he's more than happy to help make it happen. Leaning in, he brushes his lips against Izuku's again, the lightest of touches. Although he can't quite help ask what slips out next...

"Shoucchan, huh?"

It's Shouto's smile that softens his own mischievous expression, his eyes creasing at the corners. Smiles from Shouto were a rare and precious thing, something he offered in moderation and always seemed to mean so wholly and genuinely it made Izuku's jaw hurt like he'd eaten something too sweet. The mischief returns to his smile as he opts to tug at the waistband of his shorts again, and he wiggles to encourage his tugging on them, letting them slip lower on his hips.

"You are," he breathes, closing his eyes over and completely willing to let himself get lost in the moment--

--up until Shouto calls him out on a nickname he didn't even consciously administer. He blinks, wide eyes wider, and recoils enough to look at him. Shoucchan?? Had he said that out loud...?? Bright, flustered color crawls up his neck into his face and his ears practically steam, and he hunkers down into his shoulders slowly, making a series of small, embarrassed chirping sounds.

"I-- oh, wow, I didn't... mean to say that out loud, I'm so sorry."

He probably shouldn't have said anything at all about the name, but he just couldn't help it. No one has ever given him a name like that before. And hearing the way Izuku says it, the softness in his voice and that shy smile, that only made him feel more fiercely tender about the entire thing. Maybe that's why he couldn't not say it, and maybe that's why he refuses to let Izuku withdraw into his shell like a turtle this time. Fingers slip under his chin, and Shouto looks at him directly, no hesitation at all on his face. "Don't be sorry," he tells the other boy. "I like it." He likes the way it sounds, coming from Izuku. He likes the way it makes him feel. Special. Wanted.

Carefully, gently, he brushes another kiss against Izuku's lips, and then another, fingers exploring over new skin bared as the other's shorts slide lower, once again trying to get him out of his own head--and maybe still a little out of his pants.

He makes a squashed sort of sound, still embarrassed, but allows Shouto to chide him about it anyway. His ears burn scarlet and he's tense, but he doesn't squirm out of his grip or break the eye contact when it's initiated, not until he lets his eyes fall closed as Shouto gets too close for him to look at without going crosseyed. Then he's humming, quietly against his lips, and shimmies just enough to encourage the motion below, determined to not let his overthinking get in the way of this for what has to be the millionth time.

"I could just take them off," he grumbles softly, curling his hands into fists at Shouto's collarbone. "But you'd have to do the same."

Shouto doesn't take very much encouraging at all, honestly. He wants to touch, wants to feel--and he wants to help. Izuku might get caught in his head more often than not, but Shouto's a fast learner. He can help the other boy find a way back out again.

The grumbled words make him smile again, a small expression but enough to be felt against Izuku's lips. "Well, it wouldn't be fair if it was only one of us, right?" The words are husky, barely a murmur, and Shouto's hands lower to the fly of his own pants, unbuttoning and unzipping, before sliding back over Izuku's hips, tugging his shorts downwards again. It's a team effort, really.

He really does get caught in his own head a lot-- and almost spins right back into it as he watches Shouto's hands temporarily leave his shorts to work on removing his own pants. He's caught by a sudden sensation he can't quite put words to, but he thinks it might be hunger, or at the least curiosity. He lets his hands follow Shouto's to his front, skating his fingers over the opened closure of his pants and biting his lips.

"Shou," he breathes, and shifts enough to climb his way out of his shorts, letting them bunch at his thighs.

The feeling of Izuku's eyes on him, watching as he undoes his pants, makes something flutter in the pit of his stomach. It's not nervousness, exactly--he's never been nervous around Izuku--but...anticipation, maybe. A rush of warmth, a feeling that makes his heart race, his breath catching as he feels the brush of fingers against fabric. Izuku is biting his lips, and Shouto thinks dreamily that he knows how they feel, now. He knows how they taste. And he wants more.

Izuku shifts enough to let Shouto get his shorts down to his thighs, and Shouto takes over from there, shifting up for a moment so he can pull them off the rest of the way, discarding them to the side of the bed. Hopefully Izuku will forgive his carelessness; he'd rather just focus on the boy underneath. One hand slides from Izuku's calf up over his thigh, eyes drawn down to skin he's seen before but never really looked at (tactfully not commenting on the All Might boxers, the last thing he needs to do is remind Izuku he's wearing his hero in a moment like this), as he leans back over the other boy, lips finding his jaw, the side of his neck, the shell of his ear.

"I-zu-ku," he murmurs, voice a gentle singsong as he takes the other's hands, guiding them to the waistband of his pants. They had agreed on both of them, after all.

The boxers under his shorts are almost comically well-worn-- he's probably worn them every day he can get away with, to the point of doing laundry more than necessary or washing them in the sink. When you idolize someone more than your own life, it's a powerful thing, up to and including getting randy in boxers with your idol's face on them. It's probably good Shouto doesn't comment, though, solely for the notion that Izuku would struggle with realizing that his erection was currently distorting All Might's nose comically.

Ultimately it's the kisses along his jaw and specifically the shell of his ear that pull sounds from him, wanton wordless little things, and he shifts his hips forward while holding Shouto's still with their new placement, grinding a moment. He's shaking, but it's a good feeling, and he rocks there for a moment, slowly easing the fabric down his hips each time he pulls away enough.

"It makes sense, but this... this kind of thing is never this intense alone," he breathes, more of just thinking out loud than anything else. "Embarrassingly, I've probably never been this hard in my life." He laughs, with that one, a high and almost startled sound, because he is embarrassed, but he can't seem to curb his chattering.

It's not as though Izuku's shorts were super thick to begin with, but it's still an entirely different feeling as he grinds against Shouto in just his boxers. Maybe it's the knowledge that there's one less layer of fabric between them, or the strength in Izuku's grip as he holds Shouto's hips steady, slowly working down his pants until there's one less layer between them, yet again. Maybe it's those little sounds that escape Izuku as Shouto's lips wander over his neck and ear, and boldly he lets his tongue trace the outer edge of his earlobe, teeth grazing faintly, curiosity and more than a little arousal goading him onward. And then, there's that feeling--just the two of them against one another, only two thin layers of cotton between them, just Izuku's boxers and his own dark briefs, and Shouto all but whimpers into Izuku's ear as he wriggles further from his pants, kicking them off impatiently before grinding forward again.

"Not--that embarrassing," he manages, breathless and low. "I feel the same way--this is so much better than doing it alone--" They can definitely do this again sometime, right? They should. They should, definitely, definitely do this again. "It feels really good, Izuku," he breathes, and buries his face in Izuku's neck as he tangles their legs together again, soaking in the feeling of all that skin against his own.

"No, it's definitely totally embarrassing," he laughs quietly, the sound somewhat frenzied. "...at least for me, but you seem a lot calmer about pretty much everythi--hing, oh my God." He's pretty sure his eyes make a solid bid to roll back in his head at the way Shouto tangles their legs together with just their underthings between them, his breath hitching on what he's sure would have been a terribly lewd sound if he can't choked it off before it got anywhere.

"More embarrassing food for thought-- if you keep that up I am absolutely going to get off without us getting anything else off our bodies and I'm not sure how into sticky you are." He's rambling, absolutely, but in a startlingly level tone despite it being husky and panicked at the same time.

Oh no, can't have that. Not the stickiness--that seems kind of inevitable at this point, and honestly any kind of cleanup is the last thing on Shouto's mind right now--but the way Izuku bites back that sound is definitely not what Shouto wants. Hadn't Izuku said he wanted to hear him? Wasn't it only fair if that worked both ways? "M'not--that much calmer," he manages, his breath catching as he shivers, resisting the urge to roll his hips again, at least for the moment. "Just...not embarrassed. Not about this. Not with you."

Taking a moment to breathe, he considers Izuku's words, a hand sliding over the other boy's hip, lips moving over the side of his neck again, teeth grazing lightly. "I don't want to stop. Do you want to take more off?" Not like he'd say no. Especially considering he didn't exactly bring extra underwear with him. He wasn't expecting to end this day mostly naked in his best friend's room getting off together--although it's not a bad end to a day, all things considered.

"Maybe I'm just easier to embarrass, then," he wheezes, squirming and letting his breath come and go in stuttered sounds, caught between clinging to and trying to keep himself an arm's length from Shouto. "I absolutely don't want to stop," he says, his tone clearer but still muddled, almost like he's having a hard time forming coherent thought (go figure). "I just don't want to put you in a position to have to fit into my clothes to get back to your room," Which has nothing to do with the fact that the thought of Shouto in his clothes pulls a soft keening sound from the back of his throat.

His fingers curl against Shouto's ribs, and he makes a decision, frowning and slowing his breathing enough to not be audibly hitched all the time.

"Shouto," he says, keeping his voice soft. "I-- 'm gonna be real honest, I really want to do this, I want... mmn." He loses his nerve partway through, gnaws his lip, and focuses on his collarbone. If he isn't looking at his face, he has a little more confidence. "I wanna watch you come undone at my hand, because I want to give you something nobody else has."

"Maybe. It's cute." The words slip out before he can reconsider. Cute? He's not the kind of person who says things like that, is he? But honestly, it's true. Izuku is cute. He's other things, too, but this--the way he squirms and blushes and makes those little sounds, the way he goes off into mumbling monologues--this is cute. So is the way Izuku doesn't want to stop regardless, the way he seems to steel his resolve despite the furious red in his cheeks.

That sound he makes in the back of his throat, though--that's less cute, and more...well, incredibly hot. And so is the thought of wearing a pair of Izuku's boxers on the way back to his room, the idea that he's wearing them and no one else would know--

The thought is distracting enough that he doesn't pay attention to the first part of Izuku's words, too busy trying to keep himself from rolling his hips forward against the other boy's, to pushing them both towards a premature ending. It isn't until Izuku looks down, biting his lip, that Shouto manages to force his attention back to the other's words. And god, is he glad he did. I wanna watch you come undone...I want to give you something nobody else has. The breath leaves his lungs in a rush as an embarrassingly wanton whimper, a sound he does his best to bite back as the rest of the blood in his body seems to rush southward, leaving him shuddering under Izuku's touch.

He doesn't entirely trust his voice to come out as anything resembling actual speech, but he can probably manage at least one or two words. A hand cups the side of Izuku's face, thumb gently nudging his face upward, coaxing him into looking at Shouto again. He's not sure what exactly his expression must look like; he knows he's flushed, pupils dilated, lips parted as he licks them, as he breathes one word, then another.

"Please...Izuku--"

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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

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