@ pacifisting

[codominant]

[a few hasty bandaids over a profusely bleeding wound, that's probably all this is — but it stems the tide long enough for things to return to almost-normal by the time Monday rolls around. Todoroki has, as expected, recuperated from his hangover in the cool, dark, silent and blissful solitude in his room and sworn off consumption of clear Russian liquids for the foreseeable future, and seeing Midoriya in the morning is... well]

[they don't talk about it. and he doesn't want to. hopes to never, in fact, if he's allowed to have his way. there are a few times throughout the week he thinks he feels his gaze lingering on him a little too long, asking questions he doesn't have answers to (or doesn't want to), pushing his lunch around pensively as he thinks of a way to broach the topic when they're alone]

[in that, too, he gives him fewer opportunities for a while. Uraraka and Iida, oblivious as they are, make for pretty good buffers]

[...until he can't anymore, until there's blood leaking from his nose and his swollen, broken bottom lip, his back planted into the asphalt of an evacuated street by a giant's fist he wasn't fast enough to dodge, knocking the breath and the consciousness right out of him]

[when he comes to after the fight is over and Musutafu is, once again, safe, the only color he sees is — ]

Mi...dori...

[his voice is rough with pain or maybe screaming, a part of his body warm that usually isn't. is this... weight?]

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[pacifisting]

[ Normally he might wonder if he's being too much. It's not that he's unaware that he is, effectively, overwhelmingly himself at even the best of times. He's too loud, talks too much, he's too enthusiastic when it comes down to what most people are used to or like but somehow not here. Here, surrounded by other people who want just as fiercely as he does, who are willing to go just as hard as he will. They're the best people and he is lucky, endlessly lucky, to have them in his life. Todoroki is firmly included in that group, carving out space in Midoriya's heart with fire and ice so easily that Midoriya is surprised by it sometimes.

While his hand trails back and forth Todoroki's mouth is busy, soft lips pressing against him like he's trying to work out all the spots that are going to make Midoriya squirm against him. It's endlessly effective: the scrape of teeth over an ear gets a shivered breath, the kiss against his collarbone followed up by another touch of teeth that makes Midoriya make a low noise in turn, almost a moan of approval. It shifts just as quickly, catching in his throat and turns into a helpless laugh in response. ]

Yes, please. This is good, but you not being injured is even better.

[ This is what everyone else felt when he was injured, wasn't it? That awful mix of concern and exhaustion they had to bury deep so they could keep functioning. Midoriya doesn't have words for it, or for how good it feels to have Todoroki alive to make dumb jokes in his ear, against his skin.

Midoriya rolls over to face him, sliding a leg shamelessly between Todoroki's thighs, an arm around the line of his waist to stroke up and down his back instead, leaving them face to face in the dim morning light. He's beautiful, even like this; maybe it's especially like this? Midoriya doesn't know but he does know that he wants this morning and as many after as Todoroki's willing to give. ]

Mornings and nights, and anything else.

[codominant]

[reactive. strongly so, even like this, and he should've expected it, planned for him to move and wriggle in his grasp, to not be content with just receiving affection like that but insisting on giving it too. sometimes Todoroki thinks Midoriya is so full of goodness that it insists on overflowing, and it's a comforting thought — that there's someone like that in the world, and he gets to hold him]

[he rolls, and it's better. Todoroki wasn't exactly lamenting the way his hips were being magnetically pulled towards the curve of his ass, but sharing a pillow with him and looking on as his pupils dilate and darken green eyes is better. a knee hooks around him to slot closer, bring him against the hard lines of his body, back arching with the upward travel of his hands]

[and he looks at him with a touch of enchantment that could be doubt on a bad day, eyes lidding as they travel the perimeter and landmarks of the expression before him]

...You really like me, huh.

[it isn't a question as much as it is a confirmation to himself, and he doesn't need an answer, evident when he pushes forward and tilts his head and draws him into a lingering, sweet kiss: Midoriya's bottom lip between his own and sucked, teeth — he seemed to like them — lightly biting it into a swell, and his hand pouring over the barrel of his shoulder, fingertips dipping into and over scars he's earned and lived through]

[fewer in his chest and even less on his core but he drinks all of that in too as a hand finds a hip and he pulls, demanding him flush against his body, against where he's starting to tent his pajama pants, more insistent than a lazy morning calls for]

[he knows he likes him, but now he wants to feel it]

[pacifisting]

[ It feels unfair that the breadth and depth of his feelings could be boiled down to something as simple as I like you when Todoroki is worth more than that simple saying. I like you doesn't even scratch the surface of how he feels about Todoroki, about how fiercely he wants to protect him, to see him grow into the hero that Midoriya knows he can be. Whether or not their relationship will continue past a few months, a few years doesn't matter: what does matter is right now. ]

Yeah, Todoroki, I really, really like you.

[ Midoriya will confirm it as many times as he can, as many times as he needs. Before he can say anything else he's drawn into another kiss, slow and sweet with a touch of teeth, melting underneath hands and lips. He goes pliant a moment, content to be kissed and pulled where Todoroki wants him but it's Midoriya and that complacency lasts only a few syrupy slow moments and then he's kissing back. He only has one free hand like this, but he puts it to good use, stroking it back through Todoroki's bangs, pushing them out of his face for a moment before they spill back down, skimming lower until he can cup the nape of his neck and hold him through another series of kisses, sliding his tongue between Todoroki's lips, his groan swallowed up between them.

When their hips press tight, his body has reacted just as much; Midoriya adjusts the angle just a touch and grinds against him with another low, stuttered groan shocked out of him, pulling away to breathe and laugh helplessly, tone teasing. ]

You really like me, too, huh?

[codominant]

[like hands carding through silk as the edges of his scar are exposed and hidden again, frustrated and tired wrinkles of his face smoothing as mismatched eyelashes flutter low and close to enjoy his kiss and his reactions, to shiver in his grasp as he emboldens, untamed body a riot in his arms as he sighs open and lets warm, wet heat flood him; he could do this for hours, and would, if other needs didn't demand his attention — if Midoriya's need wasn't so hard and obvious between his own thighs, pressed into the crevices of his own erection and not enough skin]

[it's a disappointment when he's forcibly separated, eyes opening again and slow with those words sinking in, relinquishing rational thought to lethargic hunger. when they do — ]

...Hmph. [a pale cheek darkens, a flush of boyish embarrassment given overcompensation when he rolls, seizing up those scarred and callused hands and pinning them above the thick curls of his head, flex and stretch of long muscle pinioning him over Midoriya's body, an act of retaliation; it does nothing to defend him against the accusation where he straddles the hard body beneath him, leaving muscled thighs spread over his lap and pulling a sigh out of his mouth as it finds its partner again, brief and fleeting, before he peppers kisses down along his jawline]

[some punishment]

I'll show you. [laced fingers squeeze, an act maybe meant to encourage its recipient or pacify himself, and like this he begins kissing his way south, taking lovebites from his throat, his collarbones, the ever-broadening depth of his chest where, somehow, a part of him has made a home; he pauses at scars, kisses each one he finds on his journey along his sternum, especially thick clusters of freckles drawing his attention]

[pacifisting]

[ Midoriya's dedicated a non-insignificant amount of time to learning how quirks work, how they can be used, how they affect each other. He's filled notebooks upon notebooks with scribbles and sketches and wants to do the same with Todoroki. He wants to spend ages studying him, which really isn't very sexy necessarily, but he doesn't attempt to hide that it's what he's doing, either.

The flush of one cheek, the way Todoroki's body moves, the way the light plays against his skin and the lean, long line of him, Midoriya memorizes every bit of it with wide eyes, equal parts appreciative and a little in awe at being allowed to see him like this.

It's instinct to strain against the hands holding him; Midoriya pushes at them but can't move without using his quirk, and that's a thrill he didn't anticipate. He might be stronger than Todoroki physically with the addition of his quirk but like this, he's pinned neatly and knows if Todoroki wanted he could probably freeze his hands to the bed. That also shouldn't be as hot as it is, probably. ]

Yeah? [ It's less commanding or challenging and more breathy encouragement as Midoriya squirms underneath him. Every so often his arms flex like he's fighting the urge to push up against the grip, muscles bunching and then releasing. The press of lips against scars is sweet, the bites a sharp counterpart that leaves him squirming. Near his ribs, Todoroki grazes sensitive skin and laughter bubbles out of him; he hadn't realized he was ticklish there, but he is. Through residual giggles: ] Are you gonna let me touch you back later, or-?