Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You didn’t consider yourself a bad person.

You recycled. You’ve never personally killed or hurt anyone. You worried about sea turtles. You didn’t steal. You didn’t lie.

Okay, maybe a little white lie occasionally to protect yourself or other people’s feelings.

But you weren’t bad.

It’s just… you happened to be involved with bad people.

Whereas public heroes had a plethora of hero costume and support labs they could rely on for services, the underbelly of society lacked such public institutions. 

That’s where you came in.

Your shop was a located in a grungy office building hidden away in the armpit of the Kamino ward of Yokohama. It was the type of dull grey structure that was overlooked by everyone passing by, blending with the other soulless facades that surrounded it. The entire upper floor of the building was dedicated to your pursuit of all things tech; a hodgepodge of materials, finished projects, works-in-progress and forgotten prototypes.

Despite the backlog of work nipping at your anxiety, your lab was unusually quiet. You couldn’t get your mind to properly align itself so that you could make progress on things that actually needed to be worked on. Namely, things with distressingly close deadlines. Fear and nerves had kept you glued to your stool, watching the clock on the wall broach ever closer to 9 p.m.

You had a new client visiting you. A new client who was interested in your newly offered costume work. It was an area you'd only explored in passing -- you wouldn't call yourself a master tailor or seamstress, but you could hold your own. Support items and suits often went hand-in-hand. They played off of each other, routinely in more ways than just aesthetics.

You weren't sure how your name reached him but it wasn't a total surprise. Word-of-mouth was how you got most of your business. Villains and, in some instances vigilantes, were chatty when it came to talking gear. The new guy didn’t contact you through your usual means, which you didn't particularly care for. He hadn't reached out through a message -- no, he met with you personally.

By cornering you on a walk home several nights earlier.

‘I heard you made costumes,’ he had said, appearing in a fury of power and towering over you. The eyes of his mask were casting a dull illuminating glow that made his already intimidating presence even worse in the darkened street. ‘I want you to make me one.’

You knew who he was. The whole world knew who he was. 

You gave him an address and he gave you the day and a time.

Just like with his arrival, he disappeared in a sudden whirlwind of energy that made you recoil. When the wind died, you found yourself alone. 

The agreed meeting time came and went, which made your unease worsen. Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.

Maybe… he wasn’t coming?

Relief? You reached for your phone to check your encrypted channels for any possible messages from him, but there was nothing. The restless,  heart-in-throat feeling that had been plaguing you started to dissipate. Sure, he would have been a good client to have in your pocket. But there would have been a tremendous amount of risk in working with him, not to mention general discomfort at having someone so--

“Your security is lousy.”

His voice was a low, rolling thunder that sliced through the silence of the room. You jumped, swirling around in your stool, searching for the man who had been the root of your disquiet for the past several days.

He had been only a few feet away from you, standing with his arms crossed, his signature mask obscuring his face. There were no long shadows to cloak him  -- the bright lights of your lab revealed him in all his infernal glory. You swallowed, standing up from your seat while attempting to seize the nonchalance you had hoped to portray. He wasn’t the first villain you’ve dealt with.

But this was All Might.

“How long have you been there?” you ventured to ask, unnerved but very much curious. The front door of your lab was in your line of sight -- he had not entered there. Your eyes settled on the windows lining the walls behind him. They were large enough for him to squeeze through, but the building was old. They were prone to sticking and nosily complaining whenever they were opened or closed.

All Might shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as if debating whether to answer you. Finally, he spoke up.

“We agreed 9 o’clock.”

No. There’s no way he had been standing behind you for fifteen minutes. You couldn’t be that obtuse and someone as large as him could not be that stealthy. Don't humans have some sort of primordial sixth-sense about people watching them? Yours should have kicked in. 

“It’s very rude to keep your clients waiting.”

His snark interrupted your internal dialogue. With a steadying breath, you quickly pieced your self-composure back together. These people, these villains, were like sharks. If they smelled blood in the water, they'd go into a frenzy. In your lab, it wasn't so much blood that would feed their mania, more like any visible weaknesses.

“Well… I guess it is time to update my security system,” you joked hollowly after swallowing the lump in your throat.

Things were in motion, you could no longer cling to the hope of being forgotten. Just get the meeting over with so you can get him out of your lab. Although he would be your first true big-name client, he had a bit of reputation for being... unpredictable. And powerful. You found the best way to deal with customers like that was to keep your encounters brief and strictly business. 

He made a sound, a cross between a snort and a chuckle, uncrossing his arms to approach you.

“So, costume work,” you said, grabbing your small notebook and flipping it open. “That shouldn’t be an issue. What were you thinking? Turn around time is usually three weeks, depending on what you want. Maybe something with a cape?”

The last part was supposed to be a joke and you peered up at him with a crooked smile. You could hear his even breathing through the filters of his mask as the seconds ticked by without a reaction from him.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, writing the date in the notebook just to do something with your attention. “No cape then.”

“I want this,” he grumbled, using one hand to gesture to his clothing. “But more… resistant.”

You eyed his costume -- well, truthfully it wasn’t much of a costume. It was really just a pair of cargo pants and a black shirt with some embellishments: a utility belt, spiked shoulder pads and a chest strap.

And, of course, the mask. What would All Might be without his mask? It definitely added to the apocalyptic image he must have wanted to portray.

“May I?” you asked with your hand out, fingers grasping air as you gestured to his clothing. He tilted his head before nodding.

Ignoring the sick thrill of being so close to the greatest villain of all time, you tentatively stroked the side of his pant leg, rubbing the fabric between your fingers. A frown appeared on your face, one that deepened when you stroked the fabric of his shirt.

“This is just clothing,” you said out loud to yourself. The material was cheap, it was nothing more than clothing sold at some major chain store. “This isn’t a costume.”

“Which is why I came to you,” he grumbled with what sounded like irritation. You caught yourself, reeling back your passion.

“So when you say resistant... you mean, what? Like tear, fire and fluid resistant?”

He nodded and you reached once more for your notebook, possible fabric types already popping into your mind. So he wanted to keep the same look but upgrade the quality. You didn't want to call it easy work, but you were glad that you wouldn't have to try and come up with design ideas. His look was already locked in, you just needed to replicate it.

“The shirt won’t be a problem,” you said as you tapped your pen against your bottom lip in thought, gaze focused on his body. “It’s simple and it’s black. But the pants might prove slightly troublesome, only because of the color. If they ended up more khaki than green, would that be an issue?”

All Might’s hidden eyes were fixated on the pen that rubbed across your lip.

“Khaki is fine,” was all he said.

“And what about these, the shoulder pads,” you gestured to his upper body. There was no way they offered him any decent protection. In fact, they probably proved a hindrance to his mobility. You were certain they were a design choice made by All Might, something to further cement his look of terror. “Are they part of the costume?”

“Yes.”

“And the mask?”

“Yes.”

A man of few words, you thought as you scribbled down more ideas involving materials and what suppliers you should contact for what. 

“Well, all I need to grab from you tonight are some reference pictures and measurements and we should be good to go. I think a three-week timeframe will work for this.”

He stood uninterestedly as you snapped several example pictures of varying angles on your phone. When you brought out your fabric tape measure, he perked up a bit.

By then work had consumed your thoughts and any apprehension you had about his presence had mostly faded away.

All Might was tall, you marveled as you pulled up your stool closer to him with your foot. He watched you stand on it, paying no mind to the way the way it creaked, tilted and shifted under your weight -- this wasn’t the first time you’ve used your crappy stool as a ladder.

“Just gonna take some measurements,” you muttered. “Can you lift your arms?”

It was entertaining, to him, the way you slipped into your role of costume-maker so easily. Your hands were gliding and pressing the tape measure against his body, your face scrunched in concentration. At one point you even asked for his assistance in marking a spot on his chest using his finger, as your tape measure was not long enough to fully wrap around him. The unease had vanished.

You popped off your stool, numbers dancing around your head as you recorded them in your notebook. You did your best not to ogle at the sheer size of the man in front of you. But your movements did betray your surprise at how unyielding his body was. Whether you realized it or not, your fingers were pushing into his skin with varying degrees of pressure testing to see how much give his flesh had. But there was none. He was just solid.

You kicked your stool out of the way as you moved to his lower body, finally hesitating.

“I’m going to take your pant measurements,” you said. If you were going to be rummaging around down there, you figured you should at least warn him. The last thing you wanted was to get an appalled knee to the head when you went for the inseam. “So don’t get too excited,” you added, another dull joke.

He made no acknowledgment.

'Be professional,' you chanted to yourself as you moved around his lower body, hands brushing his hips and thighs, the dreaded inseam approaching. It shouldn’t be a big deal -- you’d taken dozens of inseam measurements for all sort of clientele. But being around All Might’s groin was a little… intimidating.

He was still silently watching you, noting the way you bit your lower lip as you wrote down numbers, eyes flickering over to his crotch.

His jaw set as you brought the tape against the inside of his left leg, a sudden desire awakening at seeing you bent in toward him. It didn't help that you were pressing against something that had been tucked away into his pant leg. 

There was a minuscule bit of skin movement under your hand. It wasn’t a thigh muscle twitching to life.

You pulled back with a jerk, the gears clicking in your head as you realized what was happening. What you had unknowingly touched. But you had gotten the number and you turned to your notebook, horrified and actively trying to ignore what had just occurred. Don't call attention to it. Be professional.

“R-right,” you said, a slight hitch in your voice. You cleared your throat to rid yourself of it, going back to your calm, conversational demeanor. “That was all I needed. So like I said earlier, three weeks. As for the cost…”

You reached for your phone, pulling up some of the price lists you had saved. You were doing your best to create a rough calculation of materials, time and labor while preventing a blush from staining your cheeks. It wasn’t going to be an expensive job, you realized with disappointment, tacking on an additional couple thousand yen since this was All Might and chances were he had some money saved away. Might as well make it worth your while.

Turning, you planned on sharing the number you had drummed up but froze.

He was there, standing right behind you, his gargantuan figure looming over you. 

Your mouth went dry, fear melding with something else at his proximity. You weren't an idiot -- this wasn’t him not understanding personal space. He was doing it on purpose. He was trying to be intimidating. Though, with him, there was no need to try. Just his reputation was enough to have put you immediately on edge. His persona just compounded the feelings.

There was a tension.

“So, for cost…” You tried to back up, to reclaim a comfortable buffer of space between you, but you only succeeded in pressing your back against the large table in the center of your lab. “I’m gonna knock off some yen off since you’re doing an entire outfit through me, though the final number may change since the cost of materials can change. You’re looking at--”

“What’s your name?” he asked abruptly, interrupting your almost-preprogramed price spiel.

His question caught you by surprise and you blinked. Your name? Why would he want to know your name? Well, you assumed he had known it considering he reached out to you. You hadn't thought to introduce yourself.

“I go by Artisan,” you said.

“Your real name,” he growled, somehow finding the room to get closer to you. Another painfully dry swallow. Christ, the man had a presence. One of his thighs was about as wide as your body. And his hands... Conflicting thoughts sparked in your mind as you quickly took in the sight of them, hanging by his side.

But your name… you didn’t give that up to any of your clients. That was yours.

“Artisan.”

He laughed -- it was a low, deep-chested sound that made your skin tingle. He was genuinely amused by how you carried yourself. A gloved hand reached out and grasped your chin, turning your face side by side as he inspected you. Your eyes were wide, floored by his actions. 

His hands. They were massive.

But strangers weren't supposed to reach out and touch you. It was disrespectful, demeaning. But how were you supposed to react? What could you do to All Might of all people?

There was agitation in your face, he noted as he further scrutinized you, but that was about all he saw. If you were afraid, you were doing a surprisingly good job at keeping it buried. Was it pathetic that he was impressed that you hadn’t devolved into a sniveling mess at his presence? Even when he had cornered you a few nights back, at the mention of business you became surprisingly lucid.

“I could kill you, you know,” he found himself pointing out.

A reminder. 

Your brows shot up, caught off guard that he would point out such an obvious thing. It had come flying out of left field, this mention of your possible death. Your heart squeezed painfully as you worked to decipher his angle. Why would he say that? Randomly, right out of the blue?

He released your chin and you rubbed at your skin nervously.

“Well, of course,” you said. “You’re All Might.”

There was no point in trying to be tough -- you had no idea what thoughts were swirling through that head of his and the last thing you wanted to do was spark his ire. Perhaps he was already angling for a price decrease? Or maybe he wanted his suit for free?

All Might was laughing again. Despite it all, your body still reacted to his behavior. 

That’s when it struck you, what kind of tension you were feeling. What his actions were leading to.

No, this wasn’t a shakedown.

You grimaced, releasing a quick breath as your eyes boldly flickered to his crotch before traveling up to his face. Well, his mask.

All Might had been watching you, a boil starting to bubble in his blood as he took where your attention had landed. And to your slightly parted lips.

Now there was nervousness in your eyes. Fear? He wasn't sure yet.

He stooped down abruptly, grabbing the back of your legs and pulling them out from underneath you. A strangled yell bursted from you at the unexpected movement, your back slapping against the table behind you, throat drying instantly when you realized your legs had been pinned to All Might’s sides.

“H-hey!” you said, startled at his speed and sat up. “No thank you!”

You attempted to struggle away, to roll backward and out of his grasp, but there was no chance of escape. His grip was ironclad -- hell, one of his fingers probably had enough strength to hold you down. 

So you used your quirk.

All Might blinked, a serious case of déjà vu striking him as he stood in front of you. He had planned on tossing you onto the table but you were already gone, taking advantage of his confusion by slipping off to the side and to freedom.

“Right, like I was saying,” you said, forcing yourself to remain calm and collected. This wasn’t the first time a villain had gotten handsy. They could be… impulsive. You found it was best to be cool and non-reactive as that usually killed the mood.

And keep a distance.

“Price can change depending on the cost of materials," you continued, voice strong despite the frantic beating of your heart. "So think of this as a rough estimate. I can finalize the cost once I get ahold of everything.”

All Might looked up at you, the vision of him standing between your legs too vivid in his mind to be an idle fantasy.

“You have a time quirk,” he said, going with what his gut was telling him. He was no fool to the tricks of others. You paused, furrowing your brows, trying to play coy without insulting him by outright lying.

“I’d really like to keep things professional,” you say in what you hope was a placating manner, still working to diffuse the situation. All you wanted to do was get him out so you could go home and go to bed. Alone. 

A gust of wind exploded around you sending some light-weight objects barreling across the room. One second you were standing, preparing to segue into payment options. The next, your back was hitting the steel table again with a hollow thud.

He was fast.

“Use your quirk,” All Might demanded as you gazed up at him, nervousness starting to really break through your persona. You couldn't see his face, but he didn't strike you as someone who could be talked out of an idea. So you did as commanded, ignoring the slight twitch in your gut from using your quirk again, so soon.

All Might was staring as you stood a few feet off to the side of him, clear memories of events that hadn't occurred striking him again.

You let out a worried gasp, recognizing the blur of his movement just as he grabbed ahold of you to slam you back on the table for the third time. Your head was complaining and the world seemed to be uncomfortably saturated. He was still between your legs, restraining them against his hips to prevent you from kicking away to freedom. Not that it would have worked. A groan escaped as you sat up, making an effort to meet his eye. But it was a struggle to focus and your stomach was wound in queasy knots. 

“How many times can you use your quirk?”

He seemed curious and you debated how to answer. If to answer. It was bad taste to ask about the shortcomings of another person's quirk; it was something they either offered up to you or you figured out on your own. You didn't just ask. Especially a stranger. He must have sensed your thoughts -- his fingers squeezed into the flesh of your legs and you bit back a hiss. He was going to leave marks.

“Or I can run your quirk out,” he threatened as visions of you repeatedly being tossed onto the table flashed in both of your minds. His stamina, you realized coldly, far surpassed yours.

“If I use it too much I get sick,” you admitted to him, the truth uncomfortably leaving you. “Bad migraines and stomach aches. So maybe a couple times a day, rarely back-to-back.”

“How far back can you go?”

“Five seconds, eight or nine if I really push but it’s not easy.”

“How many people can you impact?”

“Only my immediate radius. Never more than three.”

He was silently staring down at you and all you could do was return his gaze, unsure what was going to happen next. Oh god, what if he kidnapped you and tried to make you his little time controlling pet? Was that a thing? You didn’t know.

His hand rested on your stomach.

Your gut clenched, eyes darting between his hand and his face.

“Artisan,” he said in a soft, gruff voice as if testing the way it sounded.

Oh no. Oh no. This was not good. You had to kill his mood. 

“That’s my name,” you said with a weak, horrified smile.

'Gotta humanize yourself,' you strategized as he paused at your response. Humanize yourself and pray he won’t snap your neck. Or progress to anything more. You weren't ready for that. You couldn't do that. With him, of all people.

God, you just wanted to go to bed.

His hand pressed harder against your stomach before he began to move it, fingers rubbing circles as he watched your face. Searching for a hint, a glimmer of something more. You inhaled but did nothing, just stared at his hand and how it’s large size compared to your torso.

Things were escalating, weren’t they?

“Please don’t.”

He stopped his movements at hearing the smallness of your voice, your facade finally crumbling away. You were looking up at him, such a pleading look in your eyes. There it was. Fear. He shifted, disguising the thrum that reverberated through his body at your recognition and acceptance of frailty. His hand pulled away, only to slip underneath your shirt and press against the soft skin of your stomach.

No muscles, he felt as his jaw clenched. Such a small, weak thing.

The pain was sudden, tearing through All Might’s left side and forcing him to convulse, his body aflame. He retracted his hand quickly, breathing loud and audibly through his mask. You pulled yourself deeper onto the table, away from him, unaware of the discomfort plaguing him. The harsh breathing, you thought with panic, was from his excitement. You'd have to make a run for it if he came at you again.

But his moment had passed. Playtime was over, he realized with loathing, swallowing the hidden blood in his mouth. 

“Three weeks,” he snapped as he drew away from you and the table altogether.

You sat up, hands shaking. W-was he leaving?

Relief.

“Three weeks,” you repeated after clearing your throat preventatively to hide the tremor of your nerves. Thankfully, it sounded firm.

He stopped, casting one last look at you. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his featureless face somehow expressing his hunger. A hunger you had just barely avoided. Then he was gone, leaving out a corner window that had been left ajar. That, you assumed, was how he had got into the building without you noticing.

You slid off the table, eyes fixated on the window, waiting. Catching your breath. Breaking away at your tenseness. A minute passed. Then five. Ten.

He didn’t come back.

Before you left that night, you made sure each of the windows and doors of your lab were locked. 

Three weeks.

Chapter Text

You were caught between a rock and a hard place with All Might’s order. Despite your uncomfortable consultation with him, you had to complete his costume. There was no such thing as canceling in your line of work. You were dealing with thieves, cutthroats and killers -- they didn’t take kindly to people changing their minds or breaking deals.

Aggressive personalities were part of the job.

With not much of an option, you had to suck it up and finish the outfit you had been commissioned to create. You were painfully aware that, in three weeks time, the great Symbol of Discord was going to return to your doorstep. And, if things unfolded similarly to how they did during the previous meeting, you would have to spend another night trying to weasel your way out of getting bedded by him.

The last thing you wanted was to get tangled up with a client, especially a villain. 

All Might?

No, nothing good could come of it.

'Maybe it was just a one-time thing,' you thought, pulling back and wiping the sweat from your brow as you examined your overdue welding job. He was only human, perhaps he had been in a particularly amorous mood that night? Granted, you hadn't done anything remotely flirtatious when interacting with him, other than innocent touching. But it was because you had to take measurements. It wasn't like you were groping him indiscriminately. You were doing something that was required. 

Still, there was that little incident with your hand pressing against something while taking his inseam--

You placed the blowtorch back on the table, heart thumping in your chest with embarrassment. Trying to view the situation as a natural bodily reaction did nothing to ease your feelings. No, welding was a bad choice. You needed to continue a project that required a little more... concentration.

By the second week, your thoughts started to pervert. Whenever you found yourself drifting off into daydreams, whether it was while lying in bed or working on some monotonous task, you would find yourself on your back again, staring up at the mountain that was All Might. His massive hand was still pressed against the flesh of your stomach, fingers circling before drifting to other places. Higher up your shirt… perhaps under the waistband of your pants--

There was a sizzle as a circuit in the boots you were working on shorted, sending a cascade of sparks across your hands and into your face. You cursed, painfully aware what your mistake just cost you.

You were also painfully aware of how red your face was.

No.

No.

It was a bad idea. Such a bad idea. 

Don't be an idiot.

By the start of the third week, you were a bundle of frazzled nerves. The daydreams were steady by then, all variations of rough rendezvouses with All Might -- of large hands pawing at your body and all the pleasurable pain he could inflict upon you. 

‘This isn’t normal,’ you tried to reason with yourself, a last-ditch effort to lasso your hormones and, well, delusions, so you could wrestle them into submission. ‘Fantasy is one thing, real life is another.'

But... it would only be one night. Could one night really make that much of a difference in your personal and professional life? He obviously wanted you and that knowledge was exhilarating. Knowing that such a brute had the hots for you...

Surely there was worse you could do, right? He was the number one villain. If anything, it would be a feather to put in your cap. People hook up with one-night stands from bars and clubs all the time. It just so happened your first one-night stand would, possibly, be the greatest villain who ever walked the earth.

You paused while putting on your mascara, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

You weren't a bad person. 

Does... wanting him make you bad? Would sleeping with him make you bad? 

More importantly, above the dilemma you faced on the morality of lusting after a villain, one fear underlined every fantasy you had about him.

You were afraid that it wouldn't be satisfying.

You were afraid it would hurt.

But desire overpowered your trepidation and you found yourself caving to lust. Logic and reason had failed you. If All Might made a move, your libido told you that you would accept it.

Every night during that third week, you made sure to go to your lab looking your best, as you were unaware what day All Might pick up his order. Frequently, while toiling and working away, you would pause to glance around your lab, near certain that you would catch him standing in the corner watching you. But days passed and there was nothing. No appearances, no emails, no encrypted communications, no ambushes walking home from work -- just silence.

By Sunday night, you were certain All Might had forgotten or changed his mind. You hadn’t requested the money from him upfront, so he was under no real obligation to pick up his order.

Your hands ran over the coarse material of his new pants, which were folded nicely alongside the rest of the ensamble on the table, waiting for him. It was a shame -- the pieces turned out beautifully.

Yes, that's what you were upset about. The fact he was abandoning such quality work.

Smothering a yawn, you called it a night just as Sunday turned into Monday morning, certain that All Might was a no-show. You grabbed your bag, rolling your shoulders as you started flipping off lights. You cursed when you misremembered where you placed a newly purchased worktable, roughly bumping into it and knocking over the conducting gauntlet you had precariously perched on a couple of boxes. It fell to the ground with a great clatter and your stomach dropped, praying nothing had been knocked out of alignment. You reached for your phone and turned on the flashlight, searching for where it could have landed.

You found it, rolled underneath the--

There was a presence behind you.

The hairs on the back of your neck rose, that sixth-sense of yours finally kicking in.

Swallowing slowly, and faced with reality, you stood. The gauntlet laid forgotten on the floor.

Of course he would come to you in the dark.

“You haven’t improved your security,” All Might admonished.

“That’s not true,” you countered, ignoring the sick feeling in your gut as you turned to face him. You could see the inky blackness of his figure in the dark, but you were surprised the eyes of his mask were not lit. “I locked my windows.”

He snorted. As if a simple window latch could stop him.

“Your outfit is some quality work,” you started immediately, heading toward the closest light switch and flicking it back on, trying to keep everything business related. Faced with the actual man, all those desires that had been swirling around you fell apart. It was better to just ignore everything. It was safer. Half of your lab was flooded with flickering fluorescent light.

“I tried to find the green of your pants, but I had to settle for a dark khaki. If you manage to tear any of these things it’ll be--”

The words fell away when you looked over your shoulder. No wonder you couldn’t see the eyes of his mask, he wasn’t wearing his mask. In fact, he wasn’t wearing any of his normal embellishments.

You weren’t sure what you thought was hiding under All Might’s disguise. For some reason, you always assumed he had squat, pig-like features. Maybe it was because the roundness of the mask filters reminded you of a pig nose? He definitely did not have a pig nose.

‘Fuck’, you thought, shaking your head when you realized you had been staring.

He was good looking.

All Might was wearing a cocky grin as he approached you, eyes obscured by dark shadows on his face. But you could almost feel them boring into you.

Sinister.

That was a good word to describe him.

“Want to see your costume?” you asked, sidestepping away from him and starting your dance of evasion. Yes, you were a chicken. There was no way you could go through with you had hoped. You were walking toward the table, still trying to make it appear as if you were at ease in his presence even though you wanted to curl up and hide in a cabinet.

He didn’t immediately throw you on the table as you half expected and you weren’t sure if that was a good sign. Could you have been right for once? Had All Might just been horny and hungry that night?

Maybe everything would work out. Maybe... he wouldn't come after you.

“Now, let’s start with the pants,” you said as you unraveled the bit of clothing over the table. “Like I said, check out the color. I figured you’d prefer the darker shade of khaki and I think it really makes the--“

You shivered when you felt two hands press against your body, stroking up and down your sides.

“I felt that,” he said above you, that laughter still in his voice. “Your little… chill.”

“You move too quietly!” you said nervously with a too-loud laugh, trying to lighten the mood while simultaneously attempting to shy away from his touch. Oh god, everything was a mistake. You weren't ready for any of... this. Upon feeling you shift toward escaping, the stroking stopped and his hands gripped your sides, keeping you in place in front of him.

So soft and small.

“It’ll be hard to tear or stain these,” you continued, gritting your teeth at being trapped. “But I do repairs, so if that happens just bring them back and I’ll patch them up. Your shirt is made out a similar material but the texture is a lot smoother. As for your shoulder pads--”

“I’ve thought about you,” he said, his voice low. You felt the back of your neck grow hot.

“I do have the tendency to leave an impression,” you joked, unable to look up at him. You could feel the way he was standing over you, looking down at the top of your head. “Now, do you want to try on your pieces?

He was quiet, but his hands had started stroking your sides again. It was unnerving how… nonaggressive he was being. You’ve heard stories and seen videos of All Might and what he could do, the destruction he could leave in his wake. He was a calamity, an unstoppable force of disorder that struck whenever the mood hit him.

He was the kind of person that took what he wanted... right? 

You were being turned, your jaw setting, stomach clenching while a sickening thrill flared to life in your gut. You kept your eyes on his chest, listening to his steady breathing as he lifted you and seated you on the edge of your table. Your legs were spread wide as his large body nestled between them, knees pressing against his sides.

You felt... sick. But it wasn't disgust that was turning your stomach -- it was nerves.

All Might's hands moved to your hips, fingers digging into the fleshiness of your body.

“Have you thought about me?”

You clenched and unclenched your jaw.

“Of course,” you said. “I’ve been working on your costume. It would be impossible not to think about you.”

He chuckled and his hands moved inward from your hips, resting alongside your inner thighs. At that, you sat up a bit straighter, body going rigid at the line he had crossed. The ball was rolling. Oh god, did you want to stop it or let it keep going?

“No other times?” he asked, his voice growing softer as he leaned down, closer to you. Another shiver rocketed through you and your throat felt a bit tighter. ‘Yes,’ a voice inside your head whispered but you held your tongue. “Because I’ve thought about you… a lot.”

Bullshit. There was no way in hell All Might gave you more than a cursory thought. Who were you compared to someone like him?

“Do you throw that line at everyone you want to fuck?” you spat.

He was caught off guard by your outburst. Hell, you even surprised yourself, your innermost thoughts spilling out as you found yourself figuratively backed against the wall, insulted that he would underestimate your intelligence by feeding you such stupid lies. You closed your eyes, a strange serenity washing over you as you prepared for a possible blow thanks to your mouth.

Laughter.

Furrowing your brows, you opened your eyes and watched his chest shake, thumbs pressing circles against your legs.

“Not many talk to me that way,” he said, removing a hand so he could tilt your head up toward his. Your eyes met the shadows that hid his. “It’s precious.”

Your face contorted at how demeaning that word sounded but you were effectively silenced when his mouth suddenly mashed against yours.

Your eyes went wide, a soft cry caught in your throat at how hastily he acted. The kiss was unexpectedly soft at first, his lips barely grazing yours as you inhaled sharply through your nose. Your mind was reeling as it desperately attempted to process what was happening. His hand snaked into your hair, roughly burying into it before he tugged your head back and up, angling you more toward him.

You hissed, reacting to the dull pain of his hair pulling. That slight opening of your mouth was all he needed to conquer it. All Might's tongue darted forward, its sheer size forcing your teeth apart and further opening you up to his invasion. He squeezed at your scalp again, fingers tangling in your hair as his tongue explored the inside of your mouth. It was sliding across your teeth, stroking and prodding the inside of your cheeks before wriggling along your tongue, bullying it into interacting.

A warmth flooded across your chest and up your neck as you remained passive to his ministrations. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, but it wasn’t deafening enough to block out the slick sounds of wet mouths mixing with each other. Or hide the slight rasp that underlined his breathing.

The foreign invader momentarily retreated from the inside of your mouth and you quickly inhaled again, desperate for fresh air. He wasn’t done with you, however. He flicked his tongue over your deliciously plump bottom lip before his teeth gnashed down on it.

That was painful. He felt your face go taut and you tried to pull back, an impossible task thanks to his hold on your head.

“Ah!” you hissed, squinting through your eyelashes up at him. 

All Might made a low sound that you felt more than heard. He tugged at your hair again before sucking on your bruised lip, as if apologizing for how rough he had been. The tip of his tongue lightly brushed across it before burrowing back into your mouth.

Oh god, looking back you weren’t sure what was running through your mind. The longer he worked your mouth, the more... you wanted his attention. If you weren't so naive, you'd think he was purposefully trying to get a rise out of you.

And it worked.

An audible breath escaped him and the sound spurred something in you. And the kiss, even with the pain, was so... appetizing. So when his tongue touched yours again…

You responded.

You wrestled with his tongue, your body shifting slightly as you rested a hand on the forearm still holding down your leg. He finally realized you were actively participating in the kiss when you squeezed his arm and made a soft huff when he returned to licking and sucking your lips.

Your bumping tongues, he assumed, had been his doing.

He stopped then, standing straight with a raised brow as he took in the sight of your parted lips and red face. A menacing smile unfurled when he met your eyes and recognized the lust clouding them.

He yanked your head back again by your hair, exposing your neck, which he set upon. His mouth was pressed firmly against your windpipe, leaving hard open-mouthed kisses before he moved to licks and nips.

“Oh,” you gasped out, immediately kicking yourself that a sound like that had left you. To your mixture of horror and excitement, you felt a rumble rise from him. His grip went a little tighter and you felt pressure as he sucked at your skin.

Did he… like that?

Progressively, his love nips became harder, morphing into bites the further down your neck he traveled. Along your collarbone he really dug in and you cried out each time he latched onto you, afraid he was removing bits of flesh. One bite in particular, to the left of your neck, made you gnash your teeth and flinch away as pain shot through you.

“All Might,” you groaned, your hand nestling by one of his upright bangs, fingers lightly digging into his scalp. He went rigid at your touch, his face still buried against your skin.

Strange fear flared up at his reaction. Had you broken some unspoken ‘no touching’ rule? You waited to see what he would do next, unaware that he could feel the pulse of your neck thudding against his face. He stood up straight, his hands falling on your hips. He was breathing deeply, eyes scanning his red and, in some instances, bleeding handiwork before falling on your face.

Bright eyes, red cheeks, the way your chest heaved…

“I-I have to tell you something,” you said, your voice sounding hoarse and loud in the near-silent lab, though it couldn’t have been more than a whisper.

He stared expectantly as you swallowed and shifted uncomfortably, your cheeks growing brighter.

“I’ve never… I haven’t…”

As you nervously attempted to reveal your virginity to him, and it slowly dawned on him what you were trying to say, his usual ominous bravado fell away and was replaced with slightly slack-jawed surprise.

“A virgin,” he said, void of any growl or snarl.

“... Yes.”

A beat passed.

“A virgin," he almost whined, low and husky, as he pushed you back onto the table with his upper body. He was crushing you, his chin resting on your shoulder while his hot breath tickled at your ear. “Oh my dear, the things I want to do to you now.”

You let out a whimper as his last couple of words came across more like a groan. A jolt ran through you, one that bubbled up from the deepest part of your belly that faded away somewhere near the back of your neck. The feeling of him flattening you was so much better than you had imagined. He was so large. So heavy. 

At hearing your weak sound, he had to taste you again. His mouth muffled yours -- the kiss was sloppy and heated. A delicious mixture of tongue, teeth and lips that had your stomach further twisting into knots.

Oh god. You did want it. 

There was tugging at the waistband of your jeans. His hands were there, snaked between your two bodies as he worked to unbutton and unzip you. Your hips shifted underneath him, desire and anxiety pooling together and compelling you to adjust your body as if any movement could offer you relief.

All Might went to stand again, to lift his upper body off of you so he could move to the next step of your dance, but you didn’t want that just yet. Immediately your arms wrapped around his neck, throwing your weight into trying to keep him flush against you. You didn’t want the kiss to stop, though his tongue had already retracted back to his mouth. You took initiative and started sucking and nipping at his lips, frantically trying to make him stay on top of you and prolong the moment. You didn't want his body off you yet. You wanted to savor the feeling for just a bit longer.

His hand pressed against your chest, pushing with enough force to break your contact and pin you back on the table. Your breath was ragged as you looked up at him, the absence of his weight already a foreign feeling.

He was laughing at you, shaking his head at how needy you had become in the course of minutes.

“Now, now,” he said, a purr to his words as his hand trailed to nestle between your breasts. You cooed, licking your bottom lip in hopes that maybe he’d touch them at length. You could vividly imagine how it would feel to have his large hands maul your body.

Yes, you wanted it.

His eyes followed the path of your tongue before it disappeared back into your mouth, his countenance shifting to become a little darker.

“You’re very lucky I have self-control.”

He rolled and tugged your jeans off your waist, leaving them bunched around your knees. Hands traced up your naked thighs, brushing across the lace inset of your underwear. You were borderline panting, tongue caught between your teeth as eyes silently begged him to do something. You didn't want any breaks or waiting. You wanted him to keep going.

The night could go a variety of ways, All Might mused as he continued his fleeting touches that made your skin dance. There were so many roads laid in front of him, so many different things he could inflict upon you, and he debated which path to take. It had been such a long time since he toyed with someone so inexperienced. And the way you were looking at him.

The heat radiating off of him could have put even Endeavor to shame.

His original plan had been to simply get into your pants. He was only a man after all. A man that could level city blocks with a quick jab, sure, but a man nonetheless. He had recognized an underlying attraction when he first cornered you, but it was the way you attempted to disguise and hide your fluster that really drew him in. Coupled with cursory glimmers of desire your eyes had betrayed…

Though All Might preferred willing and eager partners, he did thoroughly enjoy a good chase from time to time. And the thought of being your first…

As he rubbed a finger over your clothed crotch to test the dampness there, he decidedly pivoted his goals, shifting you from just a potential fling to a full-fledged pet project.

You were shamelessly, hopelessly wet. For him.

“So eager,” he purred and you felt your face grow redder. You didn’t dare open your mouth to say something -- he was still teasingly touching your sex and you had a feeling words wouldn’t be the only thing to escape your lips.  

You swallowed, trying to rid yourself of a dry patch that sprouted up in the back of your throat. His touch was excruciatingly soft, borderline ticklish. He was only using two of his sizable fingers to dance up and down your slit. It was stimulating enough that you felt your body respond -- your insides already starting to clench and throb around emptiness, your panties growing damper. You wanted him to add pressure to his touch, to pay attention to your pulsating clit and sink those delicious fingers of his deep into your core. But he made no moves to give you any appeasement.

“Mmph,” you tried to stop your soft whimper before it could escape fully, but the sound was still there. His smile grew wider, teeth clenching tighter.

“I’m feeling… generous tonight,” he said. You weren’t sure what he meant by his declaration -- not that you had the nerve to ask considering the circumstances.

The stroking ended, replaced by a large thumb angling up and digging into the top of your clothed cunt, pressing against your clit. The jerk of your hips was involuntary and, although you were good about keeping the groan buried in your throat, your loud, sharp inhale couldn’t be hidden.

A deep-throated chuckle spilled out of him, his thumb jerkily shifting up and down. He was unhurried in his actions, pausing each time his thumb shifted position. A sudden flush of pleasure from the stimulation would flare in your gut only to die away as a result of the inaction. But the pressure remained.

Your teeth clenched tighter, hands balling into fists. It felt too good. And you wanted more.

Your hips started swaying side-to-side as you attempted to grind your greedy clit against him. If he wouldn’t give you a steady pace then you would force it.

“Sweetheart--” You flinched in indignation at the condescending way he spoke what should have been an endearing pet name. “-- Are you really that needy?”

You snorted and turned your head away from him… but kept your hips moving, the back of your neck prickling at how turned on you were by the situation. Yes, you were needy. God, you wanted him so fucking much.

He pulled his thumb away, as you suspected he would. He was going to make you work for your pleasure, wasn’t he? You let out a sigh of disappointment, watching him out of the corner of your eye as he tutted.

“Patience is a virtue,” he said, punctuating it with a sneer. It was strange to hear him say such a cliche statement. “Why don’t you tell me what you want?”

Ah, now this was something you had been hoping to avoid. The steady blush that had enveloped most of your face went a bit brighter as your eyes flickered and settled on a wall of cabinets off to the side.

The muscles in your thighs vibrated under his hands.

“I want you to touch me,” you muttered. He had gotten you worked up enough that you didn’t want to play coy.

His smile only increased in size at how readily you answered.

“Touch you where?”

“Under my knee,” you said with a roll of your eyes, before faltering on your own. He caught your change of expression and held his tongue, watching as you shyly glanced at him before looking away. “You know where I want to be touched.”

“Ah, so you’re bashful now.”

Before you could respond he dropped to his knees and your head whipped around to stare at him, anxiety blossoming in your gut at what his change of positioning meant. His face was inching toward your arousal and you were already arching your back off the table, heart hammering at what he was miming to do next.

His nose brushed against your crotch and he inhaled deep and loud so that you could hear him, breathing in your heady scent. Your mouth opened, swallowing air like a guppy out of water, eyes wide and craving. Letting out a growl of approval at your aroma, he inhaled audibly again and you felt it -- the slight scrape of his nose against your underwear.

Consequences and pride be damned, you would do anything to have him touch you. 

“Please,” you said, pushing your shoulders up so you could see his smirking face unobscured.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Taste me,” you said without hesitation, his proximity to your pussy too motivating.

“Beg for it.”

“Please taste me, please.”

He made no moves to fulfill your whine.

“Please taste me,” he mimicked. “I didn’t know you were a poet on top of being a costume-maker.”

“All Might,” you crooned, shifting your body. One of his fingers skimmed up your panties again and you inhaled sharply. “Please, please. I need your mouth on my cunt.”

“Cunt!? Now that’s awfully vulgar, costume-maker.”

“Pussssy,” you droned when his thumb traced up your slit to reclaim its place buried against your clit, tracing soft circles against it. “I need you to eat my pussy.”

The phrasing earned another laugh from him and you grumbled deep in your chest.

“Take these off,” he commanded, pulling away from you. You closed your eyes for a second to gather yourself before doing as you were told, sitting up on the table and pulling off your indoor slippers so you could tug your jeans off. When you tossed your soaking underwear to the side, you looked up at him.

“Spread your legs.”

You opened your legs to him, biting your bottom lip at how aroused you were by your own mortification. His hands were there, grabbing your bent knees and pushing your legs wider, fully exposing you to him. 

“Please,” you breathed, soft and low. He held your gaze, fingers gripping your flesh tighter.

“I’m sure you’re not entirely innocent,” his voice was a near-hum that mirrored your low tone and made your hips shudder upward. “Show me how you touch yourself.”

Fuck.

Shyly your hands trailed over your abdomen, hesitantly heading toward the dripping heat between your legs. He watched your first coy stroke up your slit -- one finger barely intruding. The muscles in your ass clenched and you went a little deeper during your next stoke, sucking on your lip at feeling the way your body eagerly coated your finger.

“Are you normally this modest?”

You groaned when you heard the husky state of his voice -- he was turned on by your show, wasn’t he? Dipping your head back slightly, you turned your attention to your pleading clit, sandwiching it between two fingers as you moved your hand up and down. You let out a satisfied mewl, licking your lip as you picked up speed as your body urged you to chase after your much-needed orgasm.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yesss.” In the heated moment of your sex-crazed mind, your entire world revolved around your throbbing cunt.

“Do you want to cum?” he asked and you nodded enthusiastically, your hand motions changing to a frantic rubbing as the sound of slickness echoed in the room. Your eyes were closed, head lolling backward as you ignored the complaints of the tired arm that had kept your upper body propped up.

Your hand was torn away from your body.

Your eyes flew open, aghast you’d be denied so cruelly. But that was the only reaction you had before All Might's face was buried in your cunt. His thick tongue wiggled between your lips, nestling as deep as it could reach before it started flicking out in a mixture of directions, prodding you into jelly.

“H-hng! Oh, fuck,” you cried out, sitting up and burying your hands in All Might’s hair, palms pressing eagerly against his skull, pulling him closer into you. The wet, writhing muscle entombed in your pussy was unlike any vibrator you had experimented with. It was hot and it’s movements--

“...A-all--!” you were curling toward him. God it was good. More than you had hoped for. Affection bubbled out -- you were running your hands up the sides of his face, settling on the top of his head so you could stroke his hair, cooing at him. “Oh baby, please. Please keep going.”

All Might retreated momentarily to change positions, moving upward to attack your clit. One arm wrapped up and across your thigh, pulling you closer to his face. The other, pressed down on your lower pelvis, adding additional pressure that seemed to amplify his attentions.

His mouth was merciless -- he felt no need to ease you toward what you hoped would be your first of many climaxes of the night. You could feel the dam within you waning under the constant flood, creeping closer to its breaking point at each passing second he worshiped your sex. You were afraid to acknowledge how close you were getting. What if he felt the need to torture you so more and deny you again?

“I-I’m--”

Your mouth worked to saturate itself as you attempted to piece together a cohesive statement.

“I’m gonna-- a-ah!”

Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth as you body rolled closer to its tipping point. Weak, pleading cries were caught in your throat, tacking themselves onto the end of every gaspy breath that escaped from you. Fingers dug deeper into All Might’s scalp, palms pressing against his forehead as your thighs began to quake in earnest. 

It hit you suddenly, the denotation of pleasure. You cried out, upper body falling back onto the table as your hips jerked through the pulsations that cascaded over you. Your hands left his head so you could clutch your own hair, a slight daze overcoming you.

But All Might didn’t slow his ministrations. Suddenly, everything seemed too intense and you tried to flee away from his mouth, to give yourself time to breathe and recover.

There was no escape from him.

“P-please!” You were full-on begging. “Aahh -- it’s too much!”

It was agonizing; too much good, a sensory overload that was rotting your brain. All Might didn’t care that you were too sensitive for him. You had wanted him to touch you. This was what you had to deal with.

His left hand replaced the one holding your pelvis down so that he could reach out to grasp your jaw. For a brief second his released your clit and, in the shadows of his eyes, you saw one stunning blue iris shining up at your and meeting your gaze.

“Suck,” he instructed, two fingers prodding your bottom lip.

Then his mouth was back on your overworked bud.

Tentatively you sat back up, head drooping at the slight lightheadedness that went along with your shifting, grasping his wrist. He closed his hand into a fist, only his pointer and index fingers left out and pressed together, guiding you to which digits needed your attention.

You ran your tongue up his fingers, relishing in the saltiness of his skin. He tasted like sun-soaked concrete -- warm and earthy. You gave a slight nibble on the tops of each digit, kissing them before moving toward the actual mouthing. He timed it so when your lips finally enclosed around the first joint his fingers, he unleashed a particularly hard suck on your clit that had you moaning around them.

“Good girl,” came his soft purr.

His hands were significantly larger than yours and the size difference logically extended to his fingers. You bobbed your head along them, gasping and groaning as the frayed rope in your belly tied itself into another knot thanks to his attentive mouth. Your hand, still clutching his wrist, massaged the underside of his palm.

Apparently you were taking too long to wet his fingers, even though he had been the one to preach about the importance of patience. When you went to bob your head down again, he forced them down your throat. Your eyes opened in a minor panic, gag reflex immediately kicking in, leaving you sputtering at the intrusion,

He retracted his fingers from your throat when you tugged desperately at his wrist, giving you a chance to catch your breath and calm your body. You sniffed, nose already running as reactionary tears pooled in your eyes. When the danger of heaving ebbed away, his fingers were back and tapping at your lips, ready to be buried again in your mouth. With a quiet mewl you obeyed, opening your mouth to give him unrestricted access to your throat.

He grunted when he heard the siren’s call of your gagging start up once more, adjusting the hand on your pelvis so he could flick your clit with his thumb while he fucked you with his tongue. You were a beautiful sight -- your body doing its best to grind against his mouth while you choked on his fingers. Drool was traveling down your chin, tears pricking your eyes.

All Might's cock had already sprung to life and hung, thick and heavy, in his pants. You were close, he could tell by the way your grinding stopped in favor of rigidly pushing up and toward his mouth.

He was watching your face when you came, your voice muffled by his fingers, leaving spit to travel across his hand and down his wrist. He suppressed a grunt, removing his hand while you mindlessly panted and twitched in aftershocks.

One of his soaked fingers pressed against your opening, sliding in slowly. You were so slick that there was no resistance to his intrusion.

His lips returned to your nub.

“Stop! A-All Might, no! ” Your voice was thick with emotion, eyes wild as you tried to push his head back to get him off your sex. It was too much. Way too much. Your body was trembling, his onslaught had gone without any kind of break.

He continued to push in deeper and you cried out, begging him to give you a breather. But his finger felt divine, something big and rigid your insides could finally grip onto with enthusiasm. He continued to push, way past where his tongue had bottomed out. You fell back onto the table with an unceremonious thud, body flapping at the continued assault, his digit prodding.

Then it went still. He was giving you the time needed to adjust to the feeling of it.

Was it pathetic you were so thankful?

Quietly you worked on steadying your breath as you clenched your walls around his digit, trying to visualize how deep he was without looking. At feeling the constriction, All Might began moving again, pushing and turning as he adjusted the angle of his hand. 

You worked to hide your whimpers when he pulled his finger out, only to start thrusting it into you roughly. Having someone else in control was a new experience for you. It was not unpleasant, what you were feeling, but it was strange.

When he started flicking your clit, that's when the planets started to align. You cocked your head to the side, eyes closing as your body tensed up. You were broaching the top of that wonderful rollercoaster again. And you wanted nothing more than to reach the climax of the ride.

But then everything stopped.

For one brief second, you seriously wondered if you transcended time and space because you felt nothing -- his presence had disappeared from your sex entirely. Hell, you weren’t sure if time still existed.

Reality crashed around you, time hadn't stopped. All he had done remove himself from your cunt.

You leaned up to gaze at him -- a red-faced, drooling, breathless mess. It looked like he was glaring at you, mouth and chin still glistening.

“Tell me what you want,” he growled and your eyelids fluttered at the raw, hoarseness of his voice.

Anger wasn’t what was causing his glare.

“Fuck me,” you answered, your voice just as harsh as his.

He didn’t tease you by making you ask again.

You were filled suddenly by two of his fingers, a quick sob ripping through you. He was pumping his hand in and out, giving you no chance to adjust to the additional girth of his second finger. On top of that, his thumb was roughly jabbing and rubbing against your clit.

“A-ah!”

You were wailing out disgusting, full-bodied sounds at how full and wonderful you felt. You met his actions with your own thrusting, eagerly fucking yourself against his fingers.

All Might’s free hand gripped your chin and you felt his weight lean against the table, listening to it creak under your combined bodies as his mouth met yours. He was smearing your essence against your face, his tongue melding around yours. Your mind was reeling, body vibrating with bliss as you listened to the combination of squelching from his hand and wet clicking from your kiss. If you could even call it a kiss -- you were essentially just gasping and moaning into his mouth.

Your climax struck suddenly, eyes squeezing shut as your wailed out ‘All Might,’ your body convulsing around his hand. He groaned at hearing his name on your lips called out in such a distressed way, burying his face into your neck as he felt his cock twitch and beg for attention.

“I c-can’t!” you were desperate. He continued to pump into you, making your eyes roll up into your head and hips jerk at the clenching in your gut. “Too much! Too much! T-too much!”

Your chanting only compelled him on. He shifted so he was half-perched on the table, pulling you onto his lap.

His hand never stopped.

You were slack, face contorted into a flushed grimace. Something hard was pressing against your backside, a remaining fragment of your consciousness informed you. Feebly your hand groped in its direction, coming into contact with the strained mass contained within All Might’s pants. He hissed and squeezed the back of your neck when he felt the pressure of your hand against his tented khakis, adding an additional level of fervor to your sloppy kiss.

Unconsciously he jerked his cock harder against your hand. But, as soon as it happened, awareness returned to him and he lifted you higher against his chest, away from the danger lurking below.

“I want to -- ngh -- feel you,” you whimpered, unfocused eyes searching for his as your arms wrapped around his approaching neck. Christ did you want to feel him. You wanted his cock in your hands. You wanted to drive him crazy. Tit for tat.

“No,” he rumbled in your ear.

He calmed his finger fucking, leaving them embedded in you while he thumbed a lazy circle around your clit. You groaned, appreciating the sudden ease that had taken over, giving you a chance to catch your breath.

But his answer was so unsatisfying.

“I can handle it.”

That elicited a chuckle from him. He drew out his hand out from your pussy, leaving your thighs and ass shuddering at how raw you felt.

But then he was pressing into you again -- this time, with a third finger. You groaned, one of your hands weaseling to grip at the hair at the back of his head while you buried your face in his neck. You felt like you were being spread wide, he was having trouble pushing into you.

Ultimately he retracted the third digit. Relief, combined with disappointed, settled across you. 

“You can’t handle it,” he grunted before adding a purred, “Not yet.”

He fucked you softly with two digits until he felt you were stretched enough for him to pick up the pace once again. You were dotting his throat with gasping kisses because, hell in the moment the man was like a god to you. 

You honestly thought you’d never be able to muster the strength to cum again -- of course, he proved you wrong within minutes. The dangerously frayed knot inside you was twisting again and growing tighter. You were too exhausted to cry out feverishly like you did before, you could only let out meek, guttural whimpers.

“All Might,” you groaned, nuzzling under his chin in case he couldn’t hear you. You couldn’t tell how loud your voice was.

“Last one,” he said in a strangely placating manner. You nodded meekly. “Tell me when you’re close.”

Oh god, how close were you? It was hard to measure.

But then you felt it, the instinctive locking of your legs, the clenching of your ass. He felt the subtle changes too, rotating and curling his fingers in search of that one spot…

It was as if you experienced some kind of sudden, chemical reaction. His finger connected with something inside you that made the stars dance in behind your eyes. Suddenly, you were barreling toward the edge.

“I-I’m--” you truly were trying to get out the warning between the cries, a second wind spurring unknown energy back into your body.

All Might prodded your sweet spot and flicked your clit until you were sucked into oblivion, oceans crashing in your ears as everything within you exploded all at once, the strongest orgasm of the night crashing into you and destroying your ego and superego, leaving just your writhing id. You were only a shell of a human.

“Use your quirk,” his breath fanned against your ear as your eyes rolled.

You weren’t sure if it was his voice was echoing in your head or he was just repeating his command in your ear, but you obeyed. Reaching out you grasped the dial of time and rewound back several seconds.

It was a hurricane. A volcano. A tsunami. Everything you had previously felt compounded and all you could do was cry out one final time before exhaustion truly claimed you. It was all too much.

The world shut down.

You went limp, your battery completely drained.

And that was that.

All Might blinked.

The body in his arms had gone completely slack, face still nestled against his chest. He waited for a few curious seconds, wondering what you were doing. But you didn't shift or make any satisfied noises at having just cummed again.

Well, there was one noise you eventually made -- a soft snore.

You… had fallen asleep?

He pulled his soaked hand from you, laying your limp body across the table. Maybe you only fainted? He nudged you and waited, but you didn't stir. Furrowing his brows, he repeated the action albeit harder.

Still, nothing.

All Might glanced down at his hand, still slick with your juices. He indulged in one final taste before wiping it clean on his pants, adjusting the irritating bunching around his still-hard cock. He lightly smacked your cheeks, trying to force consciousness to return to you. To get you awake so he could tease you a bit more. He still had another hour or so of time left and he had hoped to make good use of it.

“Artisan,” he said loudly, one final check that you were out for good. When you didn’t rouse, he looked around your lab, unsure what to do with you.

He thought about leaving you there, half-naked and sleeping in a puddle of your own essence. But he was feeling a bit more… attached than he expected.

Fine. He’d take care of you.

He haphazardly wiggled your jeans back on your body, shoving your dirtied underwear into one of its front pockets. He didn't want you to lose those.

At least your modesty was covered, he thought as he adjusted his pants again, growing more aware of the slight slickness that coated his leg.

It looked like he would have to take care of his own pleasure.

Well, he put your pants back on. Was that good enough? Would you be alright sleeping in your lab?

You looked so... helpless, he noted with a snort to himself, annoyed that he was almost fretting. He kicked over your stool and waited -- the sound of it striking the floor was considerable; an initial loud bang followed by a clatter as it rolled back and forth along its side before settling.

You didn't so much as twitch.

If someone entered your lab while you were in such a state...

He rubbed his face, working to convince himself that helping you would only work for his benefit in the long run. You'd be more likely to spread your legs to him if you knew he had taken the time to care for you. It was a sound, practical decision.

After some snooping he found an old plastic shopping bag he could shove his new costume in; he wasn’t going to leave that behind, it was the reason he approached you after all. And he didn't have the time.

Your discarded purse also caught his attention -- women relied on their purses, right? Figuring he should bring it, he tied it around your waist.

Draping your unconscious form over his shoulder, he made his way to what had apparently become his window. He idly wondered how long it would take for you to discover that, although it latched, the window didn’t lock and could be easily opened from the outside. 

Once most of All Might’s body was hanging unobscured outside the building, and he was sure you were secure and at no risk of tumbling away, he launched himself up and into the darkened sky. He would leave you securely within your house. Of course he knew where you lived -- so far he had followed you home twice since your initial meeting, observing through unblinded windows as you went through the motions of your oblivious life.

Simple curiosity had been his motivation. 

All Might found a set of keys inside the purse, the crisis of breaking into your home averted before he could truly consider smashing a window or knocking down your front door. After some trial and error, he was able to get your previously-dented door unlocked.

In a few quick strides, you were tossed safely into your bed.

You stirred a bit at that. Opening your eyes, you twisted your head around in half-dazed confusion. All Might loomed and leered at the end of your bed, prepared to slip into his villainous bravado to ridicule you on your dreadfully lewd behavior. But you weren’t lucid and didn’t register anything your eyes may have seen, quickly falling back on your stomach and drifting off to sleep again.

There was not much left for All Might to do after that. Before leaving, he performed what he considered an additional kindness by removing your clothing, tossing everything onto the floor and settling your body under the blankets. His eyes trailed over your nakedness and, for a brief second, he felt a twang of pining spring up in his gut. There had been a time in his life where he wouldn't have been forced to leave. Where he could have had you in his clutches for days.

He lingered for a bit, glancing at the photographs scattered around your living room and at the book you had nestled in the cushion of your couch. He would have dug around a bit deeper to find out more about you but, truthfully, he was hungry and tired.

Next time.

With his self-appointed obligation fulfilled, the front door of your world clicked shut behind All Might as he left to slink back into the shadows that composed his.

Chapter Text

It’s such a gut-wrenching fear that envelops a person when they find themselves waking up in a place they have no knowledge of traveling to.

Even if that place is their own bedroom.

Though you were surrounded by the soft familiarity of your bed, you couldn’t quite get your spiked heart rate to settle until you compartmentalized your memories of the night before. There was All Might. There was a kiss. There was his head between your legs.

After that, there was nothing.

Unease settled over you as you went through the motions of your morning, grasping routine for comfort as your lapse of memory hung over you. Was it possible to get drunk off of passion? In a delirious state, could you have directed All Might to your house? Waking up nude was a bit off-putting too… Maybe you just tore off your clothes and headed to bed while incoherent? You’ve done similar actions while drunk before.

But you had been completely sober.

After a long, reflective shower to clear off the residual slickness that coated your thighs, you concluded that it wasn’t alarm that nagged at you. And, surprisingly, it wasn’t anxiety either.

You just wanted answers. You needed to find those missing pieces and complete the jumbled puzzle of your mind. Maybe then you’d be granted some peace. 

After indulging in a quick breakfast, you decided to head to work. There were projects you needed to work on, clients you needed to contact.

Most of all, you required distraction. 

Otherwise, you’d think in circles and drive yourself crazy.

Hours shifted to days.

Despite staying late nearly every night at work, All Might never made an appearance. 

He also never paid for his suit. 

It felt like a rejection, plain and simple. He had his fun and he was done with you. You had been brushed aside and was left looking like an overeager idiot who easily gave into his mediocre advances. It was a stinging humiliation. A lesson learned. 

All for a free costume.

Perhaps one day you could laugh about it. Attend some secret villain support convention or something and, over drinks, coyly tell new friends how All Might once ate you out in exchange for a suit.

But for now, you just worked. Time heals all wounds, right? Eventually your pride would be repaired.

Asshole.

A little more than a month after your fling, his sneering face was plastered across every news station in Japan. The infamous All Might had gotten into a tiff with a hero based out of Osaka. Bits of the battle were captured on video by a news chopper and played on repeat several times a day for the next week. Not much could be observed -- there were gusts of wind, exploding building facades, flying fists, a rainstorm.

The hero was a newcomer and, surprisingly, held his own against the great villain. He survived, carted away from the battle with only a dozen broken bones and a serious concussion.

All Might disappeared altogether, evading capture.

He was wearing your suit, you noticed coldly, as a handful of enhanced-but-grainy still frames were displayed on the nightly news -- they were the only clear shots they had of the fighters. You noticed flaps of fabric fluttering around his body as he crouched, frozen in time.

His first major fight and he goes and tears up your hard work.

You tried to push him out of your thoughts, instead focusing on your latest project -- hiking boots.

It was a design commissioned by a vigilante who could command earth and rock, so long as he could touch it. After going barefoot for years he reached out, hoping you could design something that would finally protect the bottoms of his feet without impeding his quirk.

Apparently he was unaware you did work for villains too, and you weren’t about to tell him.

You rested your head against your hand as you doodled a boot in your design book. The idea was to create a sole that shielded but didn't act like a barrier. So far your inspiration had been winter gloves that could interact with the touchscreen of a smartphone. But that was about as far as you got.

This was going to be a project full of trial and error, you noted with a sigh as the front of your skull throbbed, warning you of a lurking stress headache. Thankfully, the timeline was flexible and the guy seemed reasonable enough. It would just be the technical stuff that would bog you down.

You sat up straighter in your stool, squeezing your shoulders back as you stretched your hands up toward the ceiling, an attempt to alleviate some the stiffness that plagued your body. The room was filled with the symphony of cracking joints as you twisted, releasing your best old man groan as relief spread down your back.

But it wasn't your back that was the real problem area.

Hanging your head, you slowly rocked it back and forth, trying to focus on the constant tightness that had long settled at the nape of your neck. It was an area that no stretching or self-massage had been able to soothe.

Your chin was tucked into your chest, eyes closed in minor relaxation when something reached out and pressed against the problem area.

A full-fledged scream wasn't able to form fast enough to be expelled from your throat -- instead, you released a gaspy yip and instantly activated your quirk.

You rewound the clock back a few precious seconds, putting distance between yourself and your assailant. When the world ceased its rocking, you grabbed your pencil and, wielding it like a knife, turned to impale it in the intruder before they had a chance to lay a hand on you.

The point of the pencil broke easily when it struck All Might's forearm -- not the slightest scratch or imprint marked his granite-like skin. Mouth agape, you stopped, looking up at his face.

"Really?"

He looked annoyed as he plucked the pencil out of your limp hand and tossed it aside. You heard it scatter across the linoleum.

All those biting monologues you had rehearsed in the shower escaped you.

"All Might," was all you said.

"First you think window locks will keep me out," he grumbled, stepping away from you and placing a timeworn rucksack on the table. "Now you think a pencil can hurt me? I don't know if it's naivety I'm dealing with or stupidity."  

'He's insulting you,' your brain chided as the frozen gears of your mind began to turn. You balled your hands into fists and glared at his back.

"You have a lot of nerve showing up here," you sputtered, the anger you felt running down your spine. In fact, embarrassing rage-fueled tears threatened to fall and it took every ounce of composure to keep them from making an appearance. The last thing you needed to do was to start crying in front of him.

He glanced over his shoulder in your direction, brow raised at your tone.

"Turning into a scorned lover already?" he asked dryly.

"More like a scorned craftsman," you retorted, skin flushing. "You commission work from me but don't pay for it. Then you go and get into a fight and tear it all to shreds."

You paused, realization settling.

"...Don't tell me... are you really here for repairs? You'd steal from me and then expect me to fix what you took!?"

All Might had long since turned his head back to his bag, unpacking the balled-up and shredded clothing you had spent weeks toiling over, tossing them onto the table. You resisted the impulse to examine your creations, keeping your eyes trained on his back. He gave you no response, just continued to dig and retrieve broken bits and pieces.

"I'm not going to fix something you stole from me, asshole!" you said loudly, flustered and offended. His body went rigid, hand suspended over the table.  

You had raised your voice at him.

The helmet All Might had been handling fell to the surface with a rocking thud. He was twisting toward you, bringing himself to full height as his shadowed face glowered down at you. You lifted your chin in defiance of his intimidation, though your brows had furrowed in distress.

You swallowed. You were a rodent staring down an enraged bull elephant. But you'd be damned if you would back down so easily.

"Remember who I am," he said. His voice was steady and the lack of emotion buzzed with danger. It was hazardous territory -- your heart thundered in your chest and that 'fight or flight' voice in your head was roaring at you to flee.

And you listened.

You backed down, losing your bluster under his gaze.

"Yeah, I know who you are," you groused under your breath with a petulant roll of your eyes, looking away. "You're a no-good thief."

Of course you said something. You just had to have the last word. You couldn't stomach being a total pushover.

You were poised to walk toward the worktable to check on the damage of the clothing, but you caught an odd movement out of the corner of your eye. Your attention flickered back to him. 

All Might's face had contorted. He looked... infuriated. Clearly he was in no mood for games. He pulled back a fist and you steeled yourself.

His body pivoted away from you as he followed through with a jab. A burst of energy erupted from his fist, sending a funnel of wind tearing across your lab. The noise was horrendous -- the clash and clattering of a million different things being sent flying, the thumping of ceiling tiles and lights as they buckled and fell to the ground. Two windows were blown out, shards of glass bursting out and falling to the concrete outside.

Reverberations of his destruction filled your ears. Papers were everywhere. Some projects that had taken years to complete were ruined. It was all information that you were able to immediately gather in a painful cursory glance.

All Might looked at his fist.

Suddenly, standing seemed like such an effort. You plopped backward onto your ass, no longer concerned with how you looked to him.

Silence.

Somewhere, a hanging fluorescent tube fell, loudly exploding upon contact with the floor.

All because you opened your mouth?

"I'll be back tomorrow night," All Might said, grabbing his bag and letting it hang by his side. You were staring at the floor, refusing to look up at him. His boots walked out of your peripheral vision. Though you could no longer see him, you could hear him leaving -- fragments of your lab crunched under his shoes as he walked. There was a 'whoosh,' a breeze cutting across your cheeks when he left the building for good.

Burying your face into your knees, you let a few shaky breaths, wondering if you were going to break down into tears. You could feel them brewing, but you were stuck in an uncomfortable limbo while you worked through the embarrassment, rage and hurt that wrecked you.

A few stray teardrops escaped but the waterworks never truly unleashed. Sniffling loudly, you wiped the residual wetness from your burning cheeks and stood. Your eyes landed on the tattered clothing of All Might.

You couldn't stomach touching them just yet.

Did you really deserve that?

Instead, you made your way over to where your broom and other cleaning supplies were stashed.

He's a villain.

You were on edge when dusk settled over Kamino, knowing HE would be back soon. You attempted to still the shaking of your hands, embracing the soothing thoughts that you repeated. It will be over soon -- he'll get his costume and leave. If he ever comes back, you know it's best just to keep your mouth shut and do the work. 

Grumbling about being stiffed ended up costing you thousands upon thousands of yen in damage. That was just on the destruction to your building -- you were also going to have to eat the cost of the repairs to the commissioned work that had been caught in the blast.

You did not deserve that destruction. Nothing you did the previous night deserved that much... rage. 

All Might arrived earlier than you expected -- for once, you knew when he had entered. You had taped cheap sheets of plastic over the broken windows; when they began flapping randomly, you knew another presence had infiltrated your sanctum.

"I'm almost done."

Your voice was dull, the thudding in your chest alternating between emotional numbness and dread. All you had to do was replace the cracked lens of his mask and reattach the missing spikes from his shoulder pads. Then you'd be finished.

Silence.

You questioned if it had been a stray breeze that had ruffled the plastic, but you didn't dare to look up and check. Then you felt it, the shivering of your nerves -- your intuition warned that you were being watched.

Something crinkled behind you. A paper bag was dropped, centimeters from your working hands. Without moving your head, you glanced at it before your eyes returned to the circuitry of the mask’s shattered eye lens.

"I'm no thief."

Ah, so he decided to pay you after his hissy fit. You didn't acknowledge the bag, his words or ask where he had gotten the money. Apparently, your muteness didn't sit well with him. The normally silent giant began pacing behind you -- he was being audible on purpose, you assumed. When you didn't turn to engage with him, he moved to examine the piles of debris you had swept up. You could see his figure brooding in your peripheral vision.

The LED light of the mask’s eye automatically illuminated when you lowered it to the darkness under the worktable. All Might looked up at your movement, but you refused to acknowledge him any further. After resealing the orange mask lens, you reached for the box of various metal spike adornments you had set aside.

A few seconds later, his calloused hand stretched beside you, taking the mask off the table. You continued comparing spikes, trying to find the proper-sized ones buried within the box. Returning the mask, he seized his shirt next. 

There would be no trace of the damage, you intoned silently as you envisioned him examining the clothing. With the material you used, the repairs you needed to perform were done at a near-microscopic level. Each missing section of thread had been meticulously replaced and reattached, returning the shirt to its original level of integrity.

"You do... good work." 

No, you do masterful work. But you weren’t going to correct him.

You held up the shoulder pad, verifying uniformity. Not seeing any irregularities in terms of spike height, you started screwing everything back together. 

You felt pain radiating across your shoulders, a result of the hunched over pose you continuously found yourself working in. The strain had grown in severity, to the point where you couldn't brush it off any longer. You had to reposition but you didn't want to. Remaining hunched meant you had an excuse not to look up at your visitor.

A spasm shot across your back and you hid a grunt, your body winning out over your spirit. You sat up properly, inhaling softly at the instant relief.

"Has your back been bothering you?"

You bit down a harsh laugh, gritting your teeth instead over the question. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was actually concerned about your wellbeing. But someone who was worried about you wouldn't lay waste to your belongings.

"Is this how it's going to be? Acting like a child?"

You tensed up -- there was that red impatience in his voice again. Danger, Will Robinson. Danger. Danger. Danger.

All Might seized your shoulder, forcibly turning you and your stool so you were facing him.

"Don't ignore me!" he snapped with an unusual level of intensity.

You cracked.

"Please, just let me finish and you can go,” you said, voice hollow and tired. “I'm almost done. Just... let me finish."

That... was not what he was expecting.

He lost his thunder. After a few anxious seconds of no further reaction, you quietly turned around. All Might ran a hand through his hair, eyes focused on the back of your head.

Shit.

They roamed over to the damaged section of your lab, to all the piles of trash that had been created, then to the made-up blanket bed on the floor.

Shit.

"Think you can play the part of a doctor on top of being a costume maker?"

What?

'Don't look,' your mind told you. 'Stay strong.'

But it was such an... odd question.

At that, you glanced back at him. He was smirking, reaching to unbuckle his pants, watching to see if you would grow flustered by his undressing. You kept the same apathetic expression as he dropped his trousers, which bothered him more than he cared to admit.

A large, bloodied bandage encircling most of his upper right thigh captured your attention.

"I need stitches," was all he offered. You blinked. Slowly your eyes flickered up to his face, brows furrowed in confusion.

"You need to see a doctor then," you said. There was a spark of life back in your voice -- bafflement that he thought you could perform medical services for him. Internally, he perked up. Outwardly, he waved his hand.

"Surprisingly I can't walk into a hospital when I get hurt," he snapped, though he made sure there was no bite behind his tone. "I usually take care of my own injuries but this one... can you sew it closed?"

"S-sew it...?" you sputtered, looking at him as if he sprouted a second head. "I can't do that! You need medical supplies for that."

He snorted.

"I'm sure needle and thread will work."

No, normal thread wouldn't work! He was unwrapping his bandages and your mind was babbling all the things you wanted to say to him. Everything needed to be sterile and regular thread was porous and would collect bacteria, that was just common sense! He would run the risk of infection--

"You need stitches," you said when the oozing red gash on his leg was revealed to you. He snorted, tossing the wrappings to the ground.

"No shit," he growled. "I've tried keeping it clean but it hasn't gotten any better. I think it needs to be closed."

"Did you get it from the fight in Osaka?"

"No," he answered after a brief silence. "This was from something else."

That was somewhat relieving -- the wound hadn't been stewing for quite as long.

"You really need to see some kind of doctor," you said again. "Some back-alley specialist or something. This is way out of my area of expertise."

His mouth snapped shut, unsure exactly what to say. He wanted to say something insulting but he... didn't like seeing you in your current state.

Declaring yourself a weak-willed cretin, you felt your lingering distress at his presence start recede. You held no affection for All Might, you told yourself, and were certain he would turn on you. He was a wild animal, after all.

But he was an injured wild animal.

You let out an audible sigh, rubbing your eyes. Then you trailed your hands down your face so they were covering your cheeks. You shook your head at the pantsless villain standing in front of you. If you didn't hate him, you would have laughed at such a ridiculous scene.

"Let me... Google this..." 

You typed away in the browser of your phone, searching for ways to treat wounds at home and how to administer stitches. Every search told you the obvious -- 'Hey, don't do this, go to a doctor.' But that was not an option so you would have to make do.

"I do have fishing wire," you mumbled to yourself, glancing up at the shelving unit where it would be kept. Sewing needles were no problem -- you had an assortment of varying sizes and lengths. As for treating such a deep wound... you had a first aid kit.

"This isn't a good idea," you said pointedly, standing to collect everything you would need. "You're going to go septic and they're going to end up cutting off your leg--"

"Just do the stitches."

The needles had to be sterilized, so you boiled water in your lab's kettle and placed them in a clean coffee mug. While they sat, you popped open your first aid kit.

It was barely used, only broken into occasionally for band-aids and Neosporin. Setting up a temporary medical workstation, you motioned All Might to come closer to you so you could get to work.

With his pants around his knees, he obeyed.

You worked diligently and silently while All Might shot fleetingly looks down at the top of your head. He was stoic as you cleaned and pressed at his gaping wound, refusing to acknowledge any sort of pain, though it had been bothering him for days.

He cleared his throat but didn't speak right away.

"I overreacted."

Your movements betrayed your hesitancy -- he felt your ointment-doused fingers linger a bit too long on his leg as you processed what he said. Soon your actions skipped back into an even tempo.

You kept quiet.

"Is the damage bad?"

You pulled away from his thigh, turning to wipe your hands clean.

"Yes."

"The money there is for your work," he said. "I was kind enough to include extra for... my outburst."

You weren't looking at him -- you were scrolling through your phone, reading over the horrendously illustrated wikiHow on at-home stitches. "There's commissioned work I'll have to redo and a deadline I pray I don't miss. You have no idea what you've done to me." 

"I... was in a bad mood."

Silence.

"I overreacted."

"Yes, you said that already."

Silence. 

"You were being disrespectful."

You looked at him, really looked at his face. He was frowning, falling somewhere between pouting and glaring. Catching your eyes, he bristled, regressing back to his usual villainous aura.

"You had forgotten who I was," he said. "You were growing too comfortable."

"Growing too comfortable," you echoed hollowly. "That was, what, our fourth meeting? The third real one where we spoke at length? This was also after you--" reflexively you swallowed, cutting your sentence short. You ignored the involuntary action, retaining eye contact. "After you--"

"Fingered you," he said with a sneer that simultaneously made your blood boil and lip quiver. You looked away. 

There was a loud, drawn-out sigh behind you.

"I should have expected this was going to happen," he grumbled to himself. "That a virgin would end up getting too attached--" 

"That's not it!" You were horrified and the words erupted from you before you caught them. With a breath, you continued but kept your response steady. "That's not it at all. It's just you didn't have the decency to... You didn't..."

A light went off in his head. All Might's sneer increased in ferocity and, ignoring the pain in his leg, he shuffled closer to you.

"Say it," he demanded, leaning onto the worktable to get an unobscured look at your face.

Well, after that reaction you didn't want to admit to it. You bit your tongue, focusing on your phone.

His large hand reached out and he curled a finger around your chin, forcing you to look up at him. His brow was raised and he was staring expectantly.

"What were you going to say?" he cooed in that fakely sweet voice that he used when he wanted to be degrading.

"There's no point," you snapped, jerking your head out of his clutches. You went back rereading the same six steps wikiHow for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Because it's never going to happen again?"

He was still poking fun at you. You glared at nothing.

"Yes. After yesterday's stunt I can swear to you I will never sleep with you. Ever."

You rolled up the sleeves of your shirt, putting on a pair of latex gloves that had been included in your first-aid kit. After fishing the needles out of the still-hot water with tweezers, you attempted to thread fishing line.

Though it was thicker and easier to handle, pushing the line through the eye of the needle proved difficult. You chewed your bottom lip, growing more fidgety at each failure.

"How did I get home that night," you asked abruptly, refusing to shift your gaze. "I woke up in my bed. Naked. I assume that was your doing."

"You fell asleep after you came," All Might hummed. The back of your neck grew hot but you ignored it, carefully reaching out to tug through the small bit of line that had pushed through the needle eye. "So I brought you home to put you to bed."

"Did I tell you where I lived?"

It was the big question. All Might tilted his head before reaching out, letting a few strands of your hair run across his fingertips.

You shuddered and pulled away -- an action that resulted in a low chortle from him.

"You woke up just enough to tell me where you lived."

You released the breath you had been holding, shoulders relaxing as you held up the threaded needle -- your Excalibur. Eying his injury, your stomach churned as your mentally prepared yourself for what sewing flesh was going to feel like.

"Do you want... Advil or something?" you asked. You hated him but he was still a person. And you were about to cause him pain. The offer was more for your conscience.

All Might smiled -- a cruel, shadowy smile that looked almost shark-like. Ah, so you were concerned about his comfort? Excalibur drooped slightly and he chuckled through closed teeth.

"I'll barely feel this."

And you believed him.

Inhaling deeply through your nose, you steeled your nerves and clenched your jaw. The needle inched closer toward skin, your trepidation increasing as the gap grew shorter. You were sewing a person, not a piece of cloth. A living, breathing person who was probably going to bleed.

"Urgh," your pathetic Excalibur lost its luster as your hand wavered. "I don't know if I can do this--"

"Just do it. Unless..." Hidden eyes flashed, "You like seeing me with my pants down?"

It took a fair bit of pressure to pierce his skin, to the point where you worried you would end up bending the needle. You ordered him to hold the wound closed, leaving your hands free to forcefully sew. Each stitch was a labor and fishing line proved difficult to knot, especially in gloves.

When you finished, you sat back and found yourself admiring your human embroidery. Sure, the stitches weren't as uniform as a medical professional's. And the knots were bulky and clumsily tied. But the gash was closed and you had to give All Might credit -- he didn't so much as flinch while you had worked.

Maybe if a career as a villain support specialist didn't pan out, you could become a nurse.

"It says we-- you can remove them in seven to ten days," you said as you glanced at your phone, ripping off your gloves. "And if it starts to look infected... well, go see someone about it."

"Aren't you going to bandage it?" 

"Bandages are right here," you said, pushing the first-aid kit closer to him. "I think you can handle it." 

"Hmm, but I like feeling your hands on my thighs."

Cursing internally at yourself, you felt your cheeks go red and you forcefully continued to look at your phone. He wasn't blind -- of course he saw the color rise on your face.

While he dug through the first-aid kit, you returned to his shoulder pads, quickly piecing them together and binding new leather on the underside to hide the bolts that held everything in place. You refused to look up at All Might, but assumed he was wrapping his leg.

Just as the thought crossed your mind, you heard a sharp inhale.

You ignored him.

Then there was a second one.

Pushing the completed job aside, you swiveled in your stool. He was gingerly wrapping a clean, flesh-colored bandage around his thigh, purposely releasing a pained breath everytime the cloth brushed against his wound.

"You're full of shit," you said, standing. All Might wore a mocking, hurt expression on his face.

"My hands are too rough," he said. “You have a soft touch. Why don’t you come over and help me out? It would be… beneficial to the both of us if you come and wrap your hands around me."

"Well, I didn't want half my lab destroyed by an unstable villain. I guess we all have to handle our own problems, don't we? Pity."

"You're being disrespectful again."

Your heart dropped and you hesitated. The emotion that welled up wasn't because he was threatening you again -- he wasn't. In fact, he had taken on a teasing tone. But the fact he would joke about something that obviously hurt you...

"Your things are finished. You can leave at any time."

You left the vicinity of your work table, stepping over piles of swept up broken bits to look at the collection of busted projects you had laid out. Clothing had been spared in the wind vortex All Might had created, as did armor and other sturdy support items (some just needed cracked adornments replaced or dents hammered out).

It was only three deceitfully ordinary items that needed repairs: a music box, a watch and a pair of glasses.

All of which belonged to a single client.

"Are your feelings hurt again?" All Might asked with a huff, standing behind you to see what knick-knacks could be more important than him.

"Please leave."

"If I didn't want that cherry of yours, this would be tiring," he said before smirking. "And I'm not just pop your cherry... I'll ruin your cherry, split your cherry wide open. Destroy your cherry."

You pulled away when he touched you, incredulous. He had that predatory look again and, although he had bandaged his leg, he hadn't pulled up his pants.

In fact, he had taken them off completely -- just wearing socks, his boxer briefs and black polo shirt.

"Stop it," you snapped. "Just go away. I don't want you. What we did was a mistake."

He laughed, his head tilting up and hands resting on his waist as his chest shook from the vibrations.

In a rush of wind, he grabbed at you.

What resulted was a tug-of-war of wills that you knew you couldn't win, but you be damned if you weren't going to try. You used your quirk, kicking back time a handful of seconds.

Aware of your power, he simply charged after each time shift, wrapping you in his arms. This repeated four times. On your last attempt, you couldn't even muster visualizing the dial. Your head felt like it was seconds from bursting, stomach-churning dangerously. All Might's enclosing arms weren't pinning you to his chest anymore -- they were keeping you upright.

"You really are stupid," he grumbled, seating you on a counter as your eyes fluttered. You tried reaching out to your quirk again in a desperate attempt to prove him wrong and turn the tide of your encounter. But you couldn't. And your failure disgusted you. 

"You gonna force yourself on me now?" you gurgled bitterly, swallowing to keep the bile from rising past your throat.

"No, I'd prefer to have you begging for me. Even if I have to put up with your... feelings."

"Why'd you have to ruin it," you said with a shake of your head, your ill body goading you to speak up. "I could deal with you ignoring me. I think I expected it. But to get violent with me... I--"

You were afraid, All Might noted silently, rolling his eyes more at his actions and looking away. You were like a goddamn doe, skittish to a fault. Of course you'd flee at the first scent of actual danger. He should have known better.

But what did you expect?

With a huff, he jammed his lips against yours. You annoyed him, your emotional neediness was irritating and he made all his thoughts known in the motions of your kiss. But he didn't pull your hair or bite at your lips. He didn’t bruise you or inflict pain. He just overpowered you. His tongue caressed and rolled around yours, his lips clicked every time he shifted to reposition his mouth. He cupped the back of your head, pressing your mouth harder against his. 

You didn't push him away, but you didn't respond either. You just accepted his attentions with closed eyes. 

He pulled away in irritation.

"I won't destroy your lab again," he grunted, searching for something to bring you around to him. You looked up into the shadows of his eyes, your face still impassive. "And if anyone bothers you about deadlines, tell me and I'll give them something to complain about."

Still nothing. He clenched his fists.

"What else do you want from me?" he asked, anger sparking. "Do you want me to fingerfuck you again to oblivion? Will that make you happy? Do you want more money? You seemed happy enough stitching me up, want me to get bloodied from another fight? I'll go knock around some unlucky sonofabitch if you want."

You wanted an apology, you both knew that. But he was never going to give you one and you weren't foolish enough to think that was going to happen.

Instead you stared, in a twisted way goading him into working himself into another tizzy.

His restraint being pulled taught.

A hand wrapped around your waist to pull you into him, the other hand wrapped itself in your hair. He forced his mouth against yours again, his blood on fire, trying to ignite yours.

His tongue prodded your lower lip before his teeth bit down. But he wasn't rough -- only applying a reminding pressure. Last time he did that, you had moaned into him. But there was nothing. He sucked your lower lip, massaging away any lingering discomfort before moving to your upper lip to even out the sensation.

His hands moved, each massive palm resting on the sides of your face, fingers combing into your unbrushed hair.

It was morphing into another kind of kiss entirely. One that should have made butterflies in your stomach take flight. Should have.

He needed something from you. Some sort of sound, some acknowledgment, some response. His tongue pressed against yours, curling around it, trying to goad it into dancing with his again. Like you did before.

But you didn't do anything. You just leaned back and accepted everything he threw at you. Neither participating nor pushing away.

"What do you want?" he snarled when he broke the kiss. Sure, contempt decorated every syllable but it wasn’t anger that was driving his efforts. You opened your eyes again, looking into his face.

"I want you to leave. I have work I need to do."

His mouth shut, teeth clenching as he inwardly and outwardly raged at your denial. His breath was coming out in erratic puffs, shadows trained on your face. He waited, expecting something more. Needing something more. Waiting for your cadence to break and for you to dissolve into an impassioned mess.

Nothing. 

All Might roughly pushed himself away from the counter, stomping toward his belongings. 

You stayed seated as he pulled on his pants, observing his sharp movements when he buckled his belt and shoved his boots back on. He held no air of reverence regarding his fixed costume either, everything was swept into a pile and shoved into the rucksack he had brought. The paper bag of money caught his eye and, turning to you, he waved it in the air before slamming it back onto the table with enough force that the metal keened.

Still nothing.

There was a window opened in the corner that he walked toward, rucksack slung over his shoulder. He was leaving. Just like you wanted. Just like you told him. 

Before climbing out it, he paused.

Should he leave you with an ultimatum? A threat? Your next meeting date?

He didn't know what to do.

So he left without a word or a parting glance.

You didn't linger or replay events in your head, as you often did after your interactions with All Might. Instead, you slipped off the counter, stretched, and went back to the trinkets that needed repair. 

You had work to do. And work took priority.

Asshole.

Chapter Text

All Might's frown deepened as he watched you from across the cafe.

You were with someone. Another bright-eyed girl in similar casual wear. A friend. A good friend, as there was an obvious comfortability you had with each other. With matching smiles and shared laughter, you both were leaned over the food-laden table, chattering to one another about something being displayed on the cell phone sitting between you.

Eventually, you sat back in your chair, tucking your hair behind your ear while reaching for your glass. Your mouth was moving rapidly -- whatever you were saying caused your companion to erupt into giggles that grew louder as you continued to speak. While her body heaved with laughter, a sly half-smile tugged at your lips.

All Might hadn’t gone out that afternoon with the intention of following you. In fact, neither of you were even in Kamino -- he hadn’t been out trying to tempt fate. Lean and unassuming, the great villain had taken the train ride to the Kiyashi Shopping Mall falling into the role of an ordinary citizen, out to buy packages of socks and some body wash.

Yes. Even All Might needed to buy socks.

You had passed him on the upper level of the mall. With bags dangling at your side, you didn’t so much as glance his way and he didn’t stare or slow his pace. Just two strangers passing one another caught in the singularity of their own lives.

Well, one stranger.

A few paces later, his footsteps slowed while yours continued on. You were walking toward the escalator. He was left standing in front of some sweet shop, waving away the bowing attendant offering samples.

It had been what, a week and a half since he last saw you?

You had let him leave with such… apathy.

That lack of reaction had been gnawing on his mind.

Snapshots of your first night together no longer appeared when he thought of you. Gone was the faint sensation of you nuzzling against his neck or singing his praises. No, they had been replaced. Overshadowed by blank looks and dull-eyed kisses.

He watched the back of your head disappear. The bags in his hands felt heavy. He had planned on buying another button-down shirt at the menswear store a few paces away -- something that actually fit him.

But you had such a strong a magnetic pull. One he found difficult to ignore.

A cafe waitress drifted by his table, heading to yours without so much of a glance his way. He pressed his teacup to his mouth.

Plates were being condensed and handed off. Your friend was glancing at the menu, ordering another drink. You copied. The waitress said something. All three of you laughed.

Long fingers broke off a bit of his biscuit, idly crumbling it between them.

All Might didn’t consider himself some stalker. He was self-aware. He didn’t steal your things. There was no shrine to you in his home. There were no photographs of you covering his walls. Aside from the fantasy, there were no plans to kidnap you, bind you and lock you away for his pleasure.

He was compelled by curiosity. An uncomfortable desire to learn more about you without having to ask the questions. Aside from your initial business meeting on the street, he didn’t go out of his way to go by your house or work. But if he was in Kamino, sometimes he would… swing by. To see you with your guard down. To see interactions of yours that weren’t poisoned by trepidation.

All Might would never admit to following you. To his visits. To lying about how he discovered where you lived.

No one in their right mind would.

“Are you all finished, sir?”

The waitress had snuck up on All Might, his hand jostling as the piercingly-cute voice sliced through the droning of his thoughts. He glanced down at his empty cup and the pulverized-yet-uneaten biscuit on its small plate. He nodded his head curtly.

You were laughing when he left.

The rain started on Thursday morning. By the afternoon, the sky had greyed considerably and your phone’s emergency alert system buzzed, warning you of potential flash floods and landslides in the surrounding area. It didn't cause concern -- you lived in the city and were shielded from such natural disasters. You just didn’t appreciate the shrill shrieking of your phone cutting through your silence, making you nearly fall off your ladder.

You took a break from replacing ceiling tiles around that time, watching large, globular raindrops rapidly splatter and trail down your windows in the heavy downpour. Placid thunder rumbled, a reverberating bass to the treble of the rain.

Below, you could see a flood of water already surging down the street. One poor soul, who had forgotten an umbrella despite it being the rainy season, was running for cover. His t-shirt clung to his body, flip-flops kicking up water behind him as he ran.

A solid summer rainstorm, the first heavy one of the season.

The weather didn’t lose its power as the day progressed. Having finished replacing ceiling tiles around dinner time, you had moved to tearing apart your lab in search of an umbrella.

Not that it would help much. The rain was falling with such ferocity that it was bouncing up from the ground. No matter what, you were going to get soaked when you left your shelter. But an umbrella was better than nothing and, despite having silently berated the man running down the street earlier, you found yourself in a similar predicament.

You had a collection of umbrellas sitting in a basket by the front door of your apartment, you could visualize them. But you never bothered to leave any of them at your lab.

Correction -- you never bothered to return any of the umbrellas you took from your lab, leaving you high and dry.

Figuratively.

Well, trash bag poncho it was.

You left for home well before dark. Layers of white, scented trash bags covered your torso and arms. You also twisted and tied one to create a bonnet to protect your hair.

Your legs, unfortunately, were casualties of the war with water. Within minutes of starting your journey, your leggings were drenched and glued to your skin while your booties made an uncomfortable squelching sound at each step.

You looked miserable. You felt miserable. But the discomfort was only temporary, you reminded yourself. As soon as you got home you could peel off your wet clothes, take a nice warm shower, put on some dry socks and just sit on your couch.

The streets were empty -- most people had the sense to avoid walking in such a storm. You hung a right, cutting through an alleyway that would save you a couple blocks worth of walking. Passing by the back of a restaurant, you could smell the heavy aroma of fried food that was made even more appetizing by the rain. Tempura was what you needed at that moment. Or something with a nice, thick broth.

Up ahead you could see the hunched over figure of a man, back pressed against a building wall, having found an oasis of dryness underneath a protruding roof. You straightened your back as you continued forward, trying to retain an air of nonchalance though the situation made you wary. It was Kamino after all. And even in the daylight walking in an alley could--

It was All Might.

Upon seeing you, the figure shifted, stepping out from beneath his cover revealing his height and two upright, yet considerably droopy, bangs.

“Why didn’t you take a taxi home?” he asked, unbothered by the rain as he walked closer to you.

You hesitated, a million different things running through your mind, trying to piece together a response.

“What are you doing here?”

You weren’t an idiot. There’s no way in hell it was a coincidence that he just happened to be standing in that alley. If he attempted to play that card…

“I had… business with you. Saw you leaving your lab,” All Might said, scowling. “I can’t go and stop you on the street, I had to wait until you got somewhere less public. You’re a slow walker.”

“What do you want?” You were wet, tired and quite aware you were wearing trash bags. “I’m off the clock. Unless you need things stitched up? If that’s it, I guess I can just take them now and--”

“It doesn’t involve my clothes,” he snapped.

“Then come by tomorrow. There’s nothing I can do now and I’m not going back to my lab.”

“I don’t want to wait. They’ve been… irritating me.”

"They?"

“The stitches.”

Your eyes were half-lidded at that point, the simple act of having a conversation with him was draining.

“You can cut them out yourself, you don’t need me to take them out. Just… grab some scissors and avoid the skin. Now, please, I just want to go home.”

With that you bypassed him, sloshing away.

“My…” he exhaled a long growl, hands clenching at his sides. He wasn’t thrilled about the next bit. “My… hands are too big to use scissors.”

His hands were... too big?

Turning your head, your eyes fell on his hanging fists.

His hands were too big to use scissors.

His jaw was set and he held your gaze -- his scowl had darkened considerably. He was waiting to see how you would respond.

How were you going to respond?

You ignored the dark voice suggesting you laugh at him. It was the same voice that randomly told you to push people into traffic, kick over bicyclists or jump off overpasses. You weren’t compelled to listen to it at all, but it was still there.

But talk about a problem to have.

Well, what to do? He was standing unprotected in the rain -- you’d call him a sad puppy but there was no way in hell he was a puppy. More like a sad… crocodile. You could imagine what he would look like. Large and gnarled by years of fighting, a prehistoric behemoth with crooked teeth and an aura of death.

Though, he honestly didn’t look sad either.

A grumpy crocodile in the rain.

You had been walking for a solid ten minutes and were arguably halfway home. Taking stitches out would take only a minute or two…

Should you bring him home? Did you want him to know--

Well, he knew where you lived. You had told him. He had brought you there.

At least he stopped you on the street instead of knocking on your front door. Or on one of your windows.

The concrete in your heart cracked. If it wasn’t for the other unsavory aspects of your life, you argued that you’d make a good candidate for sainthood. Saint Artisan, helping the sinners of the world with arms wide open.

“... Fine, come on then,” you said, shoulders sagging. You pushed your soggy trash bag bonnet out of your face, mouth pulled in a tight line. “I guess I’ll meet you at my house.”

All Might stood quietly for a moment. Then he was gone, leaping out of sight.

You didn’t bother to follow his movements.

It was time to get out of the rain.

He stayed out of sight but you knew he was there. Fifteen minutes later, when you arrived at your apartment door, he appeared behind you in a flash of energy that rustled your trash bags and numbed your legs.

You kicked off your boots in your entryway, cringing at the amount of water that had permeated the insoles and soaked your socks, which you also pulled off. The trash bags were left in a pile on the floor -- you’d deal with them later.

All Might glanced at the collection of shoes by the doorway before looking down at his own boots. You were genuinely surprised when he knelt down, working to untie his laces. Unlike yours, his shoes appeared waterproof -- he stepped out in dry white socks and looked to you for direction.

“Scissors are in the kitchen,” you mumbled, leading the way through your living room, assuming he would follow.

He did.

All Might had to bend slightly when he walked through the doorway of your kitchen -- his wet, barely-upright bangs still managed to sweep across the archway. You had already started digging through drawers, the sound of clinking of kitchenware ringing out while he looked around in interest.

Scissors... Where did you put your scissors?

“You should change.”

He was staring at a photo booth picture strip you had hanging on your refrigerator, not bothering to look at you.

“Worried about me?” you asked with a bitter laugh. He exhaled loudly through his nose but the sound was not quite a snort. It was softer than that.

“Fine, get pneumonia.”

After checking your junk drawer once more, you closed it empty-handed. Your eyes swept over your countertops while you rubbed your knuckles together in thought.

Where the hell were your scissors?

You mumbled something to yourself, All Might catching the word ‘bathroom’ as you left him standing in your kitchen, gazing at the electric kettle sitting on your countertop.

Tea.

“I’ll use my eyebrow ones,” you announced, reappearing seconds later, just as he started contemplating making himself at home and filling the kettle. “Let’s get this over with.”

You ran a hand through your stringy, wet hair, watching as he unbuckled and dropped-trou. You expected him to look up at you and smirk or make a comment about his damp underwear, but he didn’t. The corner of your mouth twitched when you heard his pants hit the floor -- they were soaked.

His socks, you noticed when he stepped closer to you, were no longer dry.

Ignoring the slickness of his skin and how his underwear hugged every bit of him, you kept your eyes trained on the no-longer-gaping wound. You weren’t a doctor, but the gash was healing up nicely. There was no redness, no pus and a thick scab had formed over the closed gap.

“Does it hurt?” you asked, grabbing and dragging over a kitchen chair so you could sit. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“No. It… itches.”

Ah, so that was what motivated him to come and seek you out.

Gingerly you pried the bottom scissor under the first stitch, watching his face for any kind of discomfort. When you placed your hand against his leg for leverage, you hesitated. He was cold. Considerably cold.

The first four stitches were cut without any issue. At your request he held out a cupped hand, holding each slightly-scabbed bit of fishing line. His hands were cold too.

You held your tongue and kept working.

All Might wasn’t too worried about his body temperature -- he was watching your face. You were relaxed, too focused on the work in front of you to think about much else or catch his staring. You had worn the same focused look when you took his measurements, however many weeks ago that was. His eyes shifted to the sight of your hand gingerly resting against his thigh.

You had a delicate touch.

Sparkless eyes. Lifeless kisses.

His arms twitched involuntarily, momentarily worrying you.

“Are you okay?”

Your tone came from a place of surprise -- it was easy to forget All Might was human and not some unholy demon. But he misheard irritation and the muscles of his neck went taut, lip twitching upward in an annoyed snarl.

He didn’t answer your question, choosing instead to look away and stare off into space.

All Might was cold. Shivering. Stuck in wet clothing.

You ran your tongue over your teeth, still cutting, already berating yourself over the weakness of your thoughts.

The rain was still pounding away outside.

You… felt bad.

He was an asshole. A villain. Violent. Unstable. He deserved no feelings of sympathy from you.

Thing is… that saying ‘time heals all wounds’ rung true for you. That intense anger and hurt and disappointment and fear…  

All those feelings had dulled. They were still there, but the fire you had been stoking had died down -- the intensity was gone, leaving only smoldering coals of distrust. Fool me once.

'Don't', your mind commanded you. 'Don't be weak. Finish and send him away. The sympathy will die. Out of sight, out of mind.'

You knew that wasn’t true.

“I have a dryer.”

You wouldn’t look up at him, but you felt him move as he inclined his head toward your voice.

“I don’t really use it since I like hanging my clothes to dry. But if you want, I can put your pants and shirt in. Get you warmed up a bit before you leave.”

There was no answer and, as you dropped the last stitch in his open hand, you peeked up at him.

Eyebrows were raised and his face had gone slightly slack with bewilderment. Nothing you had done leading up to the question hinted that you held anything but contempt for him. Yet there you were, inviting him to linger.

All Might didn’t know what to say. Mostly, he didn’t know how to respond without sounding like some kind of weak-kneed fool. But he didn’t want to slam shut the door you had barely opened.

So he smirked, overblown and arrogant, leaving one brow raised and relaxing the other.

You rolled your eyes, trying to predict what corny pickup line or sexual innuendo he was going to use. Something about you being wet?

“Ahh,” he rumbled, passing off the stitches to your outstretched hand so you could dispose of them in the trash. “Looking for rainy night company, my dear?”

At least you were partly right about him getting inspiration from the rain. The ‘my dear’ was new.

“I don’t want to feel mildly responsible for All Might getting sick and dying.” You paused. “Japan might give me a medal, though. You know, for killing you.”

“Do you want to?”

He dropped his voice low. Cautiously you reached to fill your kettle, unsure where his mind was at.

“Want to what?”

“Kill me?”

Releasing a barking laugh, you shook your head at the ridiculousness of the question. When the kettle was filled with enough water for multiple cups of tea, you placed it back on its base and flipped it on, turning to face him fully.

“I’m not a killer,” you said.

“You’re no killer…” he nodded his head. “And I’m no thief.”

You openly sucked your teeth at him, unable to hide your irked smile. He had some gall to openly tease you about that night.

“Do you want your clothes dry or not?”

All Might chuckled, raspy and deep. He was reaching for his pants, fully prepared to accept your invitation to stay for a bit more when he stopped.

Step Five: Pull Back.

“No,” he said. He still went to pick up his pants but dragged them on instead of handing them off to you. “It’s still raining. It’s stupid.”

There was another secret that All Might harbored that he would never reveal to you or anyone else.

Like a pathetic, lovelorn teenager, he had searched on the Internet ways he could get you to like him again. It was a much better option than purchasing some book about the emotions of women, he had argued to himself. Buried beneath layers of disgustingly spineless articles for men pining for women who had denied them, All Might had found bits of advice that held some promise. One suggestion -- keep a distance.

“I have to go,” he said, belt buckle clicking into place.

“I was just about to make tea…” you said, looking at the not-even-lukewarm-yet kettle. He made no moves to speak, apparently set on leaving without any delay. Maybe he had places to be, lives to destroy? “Well, I’d hate to be accused of keeping All Might from his business…”

You went to walk him out, casting curious glances his way. But his face was impassive -- he only looked bored. Whatever was going on in his mind, if anything, was hidden from you.

All Might maintained his icy exterior, inwardly grumbling at the unpleasant sensation of stuffing his damp feet back into his dry boots.

Visions of what could have been flooded his mind as he worked his laces.

Stripped to just his underwear, you would have given him some kind of blanket so he could keep warm. But you wouldn’t have been able to keep from checking out at his semi-nakedness, marveling over his body--

Well, most of his body.

Rushing through the details of build-up, he imagined you finally coming to your senses. It would have been a sudden blaze, you reaching for him and pressing yourself against him. His hands would be in your hair, you’d be sighing his name--

“Here.”

All Might looked up from his boots, coming face-to-face with the curved wooden handle of an umbrella.

“I travel by jumping,” he said, giving you a look that plainly doubted your intelligence. “What good will that do me?”

“This isn’t for when you’re jumping,” you said with a frown, still holding the umbrella out. “It’s for when you land, Mary Poppins. I don’t know, it’s something. It’s a golf umbrella so it should be regular size for you.” When he made no moves for it, you prodded his arm lightly with it. “Just take it, will you?”

He tugged the umbrella out of your grasp. Compared to his hand, the handle was still laughably small.

“So you do care, sweetheart," he said with a chuckle that made your teeth clench. You scoffed, ignoring his accusing face.

“Don’t mistake my kindness for anything other than what it is.”

He gave you a toothy grin and a weed of self-hatred sprouted in your gut over the thoughts crossing your mind. Wanting to move everything along, and give him a hint, you opened the front door for him.

The rain was still coming down in buckets.

“It’ll be awhile before I see you next,” All Might said thoughtfully, pausing just before ducking through the doorway. His back was to you and that plant of self-hatred grew taller when you caught yourself absentmindedly looking him over.

“Well…” you shrugged. “What can you do?”

He chuckled, a rumble that made his shoulders heave slightly. His face turned so he was looking toward you.

“Do you want me to stop and visit? You know I’m good late-night company.”

“I’ll pass. Business only, thank you.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” he crooned. “What if I left you with a little reminder--”

“Look,” your hand chopped through the air, stopping his thought. “I’m not interested. Thought I made it painfully clear to you.”

“I liked you better when you were a meek little thing.”

“Well, I liked you better before you went ahead and acted like a total prick.”

He grumbled, back flexing as he turned to face you more.

“How long are you going to hold that over my head?”

“As long as we have a business relationship, probably. It’s not something you can easily forgive and forget.”

“Did I not leave you enough money?”

You swallowed, holding your tongue.

Truthfully… you had made money off of All Might. The cash he left easily paid for his clothing and all the materials and repairs needed for your lab, plus some. You assumed the oaf was clueless to the cost of things and had just given you a wad of cash, hoping for the best.

You didn’t feel guilty about keeping the surplus. All the extra money went toward… emotional damages.

“There was enough,” you said. “But you know that’s not the issue.”

“I… was in a bad mood that night,” he grumbled for the umpteenth time. Obviously, he was still caught in his loop of non-apology.

“Yeah, I know.”

His lip twitched and he found himself holding your gaze.

“I had gotten into a… fight with someone,” he said after several seconds of silence. His voice was slow and rough, each word sounding strained. He did not like sharing but felt compelled to give you something. Forcing himself to build some sort of bridge. “And… I wasn’t… happy with the outcome.”

“I know about the fight, it was all over the news.”

“That wasn’t it,” he said quickly and with a loud ‘tch.’ “That little shit in Osaka is lucky I didn’t cave his skull in. And he knows it -- he hasn’t done any interviews about me, has he?”

He looked at you with a smug smile that wavered before crumbling away completely. It was replaced with a loathsome frown.

“No, it was… a few days after that. With someone else… Gave me the gash. I…” he growled, revolted at sharing. Just do it and get it over with. “I shouldn’t… have let my anger out… on you.”

As he spoke, his voice got progressively quieter and harsher.

You chewed on your bottom lip.

That… sounded like an actual apology.

Void of the words ‘sorry’ and ‘apologize,’ of course.

“Well,” you started -- All Might’s out of character behavior was making you uncomfortable. “You didn’t lose your leg or get too beaten up. So, I wouldn’t be too hard on yourself. Just get them next time, I guess.”

You… were trying to make him feel better?

‘She's skittish,’ he internally repeated to himself, pummeling down the overwhelmingly powerful impulse to pull you into his chest and devour you. A sudden thirst had spiked his blood. He just wanted to feel you--

No, he had to be smooth. Keep an even head.

Hungry eyes searched your averted face, tracing your jawline and how it fed into your neck. He imagined pressing his face there, inhaling--

PATIENCE!

The hand holding the umbrella clenched tighter and he felt the crack of splitting wood hidden in his fist. Shit. His palm did enough to muffle the sound -- you didn’t appear to notice. Hoping you weren’t too attached to the umbrella, he carefully adjusted his grip to hide the now-shattered handle, acting as if it was still perfectly fine and in one piece.

You coughed. This had gone on long enough.

“Well… good luck out there,” you said, ready to end the drawn-out goodbye.

Seeing he was being ushered out, he bowed through the door and ventured back out into the storm. Before launching himself up and away, he left you with one last self-satisfied grin.

“I’ll see you around, sweetheart."

Would you eat all the cherries or would half of them be left to rot?

You stood in the produce section, deep in debate as you stared down bags of cherries. You were in the mood for something sweet and a handful of cherries was a snack that didn’t leave you feeling guilty like chocolate did. But could you faithfully eat an entire bag?

A nearby section of plump strawberries stole part of your attention. An alternative?

It was such a chore to go food shopping.

Food was good. Food was great! And if it wasn’t so cost prohibitive, and generally unhealthy, you’d probably order takeout every night. But sometimes you just needed something that wasn’t frozen or ramen. A real, home-cooked meal.

And sometimes there just wasn’t any food left in your fridge.

Somewhere in the grocery store there was a child wailing at the top of its lungs, screaming something incomprehensible. You could just imagine the horror the mother felt at causing such a ruckus out in polite Japanese society.

You grabbed a bag of cherries and threw them into your basket, eager to check-out and eat. Besides, if you brought the cherries to the lab with you and just left them out, you’d probably graze on them…

Lettuce became your next big battle. So engrossed in your dialogue of ‘Will I eat this before it rots,’ you didn’t acknowledge the figure who had come to stand beside you.

“Do you know how to tell if a melon is ripe?”

You sighed, recognizing the voice, gripping your handbasket tighter.

“I’m ashamed to admit I don’t know,” the person continued. “Doesn’t it involve knocking on them? Or was it smelling them...?”

“Didn’t know you shopped here, Hawks.”

The dirty-blond was pursing his lips as he continued to regard the melons he held in each hand, vibrant red wings closed and pulled tight against his back.

“I don’t want to buy one just to find out it’s not ripe.”

“I’m not familiar with melon shopping either, so I’m not the best person to ask…”

You watched him, weighing one over the other before sighing and placing them both back on the display behind you two.

“Truthfully I’m not a melon fan,” he said, eyes bright with what you assumed was banter. “I’m not here for food shopping either. Just wanted to stop by and say hello.”

A couple passed by with their shopping cart, giving you and Hawks the briefest of looks. They probably assumed he was just some unknown hero taking a break while on patrol. Only you knew the truth.

“You know I always appreciate a visit from you,” you muttered dryly and received a smile in return.

“I know! But I am here on behalf of someone. You know. The purple guy.”

“Giving me work in a grocery store isn’t the best--“

“Now, you know I hate interrupting, but I’m gonna have to stop you there. This is about your last batch of work with him…” he narrowed his eyes slightly. “Don't you watch the news?”

Your stomach lurched, nerves vibrating.

“What happened?”

“You should really watch the news. You can’t stay an informed member of society with your head in the sand!”

“Haw--“

“He had an issue with quality control this time around. Something didn’t go off properly and it’s left him with a bit of mess on his hands. And he’s not happy about it.”

“What ha--“

“Now, he wanted to go all out on you for your oversight,” Hawks said with a pained shake of his head. “He’s a one-and-done kind of guy, mistake-wise, you know? Probably why he doesn’t have any friends. But I like ‘ya, so I put my neck out on the line for you. Worked some of my magic and came to an agreement.”

“I don’t like this.”

He gave you a sympathetic look.

“You shouldn’t. But hey, what can you do? Mistakes happen. Anyway, the deal he cooked up is simple enough: If his target lives… well, it’s not going to be good for you. If the target dies, this is just a wake-up call about checking your stuff before handoff! I’d hate to leave a bad Yelp review but this whole situation really puts a damper on our relationship, you know? But you live and learn… hopefully.”

Oh. No.

This wasn’t happening.

“Fuck,” you said, leaning slightly on the produce wall for support while your hand traveled to hold your forehead. You were stringing obscenities together under your breath while Hawks gave you a few solid pats on the shoulder.

In a grocery store? Of all places?

“This is nothing personal,” he said with a frown and a shrug. “But Purps has a reputation he’s gotta to be mindful of. Hopefully everything works out, but if it doesn’t…” he sighed. “I guess my next visit won’t be a happy one.”

“What if--”

“Nope, no ‘what if’s’ or ‘maybe’s.’ His mind is made. Take the next couple days to pull yourself together, alright? I’ll have to get back to you about a deadline, but I assume it’s a week. It’s always a week with him,” he said with a laugh.

You looked at the Grim Reaper beside you. He had come to read your last rites and was laughing while doing so. Bile bubbled into your throat.

“Just one piece of advice,” Hawks said, taking in your pale face and guessing the thoughts that were starting to appear. “Keep your dignity. You knew what you were getting into when you started working with us. Don’t go running off and hiding. You know how good I am at catching vermin. I’ve got eyes… like a hawk.”

He laughed again heartedly at his bad pun, shattering his briefly serious persona and clapping you on the back.

“Well, it was good to see you, Artisan. I wish it was on better terms! I’m rooting for you though, so maybe next time I’ll be the bearer of good news!”

He waved his goodbyes, walking away casually as if he had just been a friend shooting the shit with you. Not tearing your world apart. Not a hitman politely informing you of his intent to kill.

By then you were leaning fully against the produce display, afraid to stand in case your knees buckled beneath you.

You were going to die, weren’t you?

Death.

Your life. It was going to end.

No future. No Christmas. Nothing.

You sat like that for several minutes, facing your own mortality, trying to drum up some scenario in which you could escape. But Hawks was ruthlessly thorough and the man he worked for knew no barriers. If they were coming for you, they were coming for you.

A failure after handoff never happened to you. Artisan was thorough. She was precise. Her work rivaled that of any support lab.

Yet there she stood, facing failure.

You left your handbasket buried in the bags of lettuce, appetite forever leaving you, as you stumbled out of the store in the direction of home.

You had no future.

Was it going to hurt?

When you got home and saw the hour, you recognized that you had already missed the news--

You were going to die.

--so you grabbed for your laptop instead, searching for the top stories of Japan to get an idea of --

‘Two killed, one injured in--’

You clicked on the link, watching as a video at the top of the screen began playing. A solemn news anchor was staring you down.

“Two members of the Yoshida banking family were killed and another critically injured in what police believe was a nerve agent attack that took place within the family’s estate. The three men were found--”

They were big-name targets.

You flew up, tripping over the side of your couch in a frenzy to get to your bathroom, unleashing the contents of your stomach in loud, forceful lurches into your toilet. What could have failed? You had been meticulous in the creation and subsequent repairs.

Was it the music box? That had been, by far, the most intricate with three chambers instead of two.

Death.

Eventually, the heaving stopped, leaving you a shuddering mess gripping the sides of your toilet, staring into the liquid mess. The smell and presence of vomit didn’t bother you at that moment. The only thing you could comprehend was the terror that was drowning you. Suffocating you.

You were going to die, weren’t you?

What have you done?

Why? Why'd you have to go and work with villains? Why couldn't you have just played it safe? Had the money truly been worth it?

You weren't without flaw.

Was it going to hurt?

You didn't want to die.

For the first time in your life, you seriously wished death upon another person. Actual, physical death. You hoped and prayed that the Yoshida man would fall victim to the poison and die. Quickly or slow and painfully, it didn't matter. He just needed to kick the bucket. He needed to die.

Because you didn’t want to die.

Chapter Text

By day two, you had gotten a grip over the situation.

You were not just going to roll over and die.

You were going to do something.

At least go down swinging.

So, plans were dreamt up, incubated and hatched. You’d have to go rogue, be the Jason Bourne of your own story and take down the Yoshida who held your fate. You had pulled out all the weapons you still had on hand; they were creations that you kept for some reason or another, hiding them away in hidden caches and compartments.

You also mulled over the plans of past devices that held potential and could be replicated within such a tight time frame.

Somewhere a man was lying half-dead in a hospital bed.

All you had to do was nudge him along.

You took a break from your criminal conspiracies at some point -- other than the general idea of what the day was, the exact hour was meaningless. You rubbed blurred eyes while refreshing the news site on your phone, as you had been doing religiously. Each second that ticked past contained a silent hope for a breaking news update telling you the Yoshida had died.

But every article you combed through told you the same thing -- he was alive but in critical condition or, if the reporter was feeling particularly poetic, ‘clinging to life.’

Panic was your main motivator and it rarely allowed your more than a few minutes of idle time. Soon you were back hunched over plans, trying to piece together something.

The rising sun told you that you had crossed over into the third day.

Four days.

Four days.

The plan was laughably simple.

You’d find out what hospital room he was at.

And you’d shoot a rocket through the window.

You ran your hands through your hair, scratching at your scalp. You felt grody, it had been days since you showered or brushed your teeth. But this was more important. If you got this right, you’d have a whole lifetime to do those things. What were a few days compared to that?

Now all you had to do was find out what hospital he had been taken to. Find a way to get that room number. You knew a guy who knew a guy that could get you a missile, you’d need to outfit some kind of gun to shoot it. You’d also need to find a hidden place to launch the rocket -- somewhere that preferably looked down into his room. And you needed to figure out a way to disguise yourself from any and all cameras leading to and from the hospital. And disposing of the gu--

A sob ripped through you, followed by the sound of the table’s contents hitting the floor as you lashed out in frustration.

No. No.

A missile? A missile?

After days of toiling THAT was the best you could come up with?

It didn’t even make SENSE.

You buried your face into your arms, labored breathing and tears racking through your body as the chilled hands of despair wrapped around your neck.

No hope, no hope, no hope, it whispered to you. No hope, no hope, no hope, no hope.

Your planning was moot. The bells of death were tolling for you.

Would Hawks kill you outright or would he stage something? Would your friends and family find out why you died? They all thought you worked as an assistant at a start-up support lab. Would they discover the truth, that it had all been a lie? That greed drove you down the path you had taken, the call of untaxed yen too sweet to ignore?

Stupid.

You felt sick again, though it wasn’t due to fear. Lack of sleep was starting to erode away everything about you. Any form of rest came thanks to a couple melatonin pills that couldn’t keep you asleep. It had been exhausting and your internal wiring was on the fritz.

You just wanted it to end.

There was a cat outside.

You could hear it yowling. A loud, forlorn call that started out low only to build in intensity. Then there was a shrill scream -- beneath it, another yowl could be heard starting.

There were two cats outside.

It was dark out.

What if you ran away? Got out of Japan?

You’d always wanted to see India.

Maybe go to the States?

Anywhere.

No hope. No hope.

You shifted, rolling your forehead against the tabletop. You were so hungry you felt full and sick. Everything ached. But you couldn’t muster any kind of energy to take care of yourself.

Pitiful.

And you thought you were strong enough to play in the same league as villains.

How quickly your personal strength failed.

You didn’t hear him.

You had spilled an entire tumbler of coffee and were too busy cleaning it to take notice of anything else.

The milky brown liquid was expanding over the table, staining all the scattered papers and books as it traveled. No matter how many rags you threw down to soak it, the puddle never seemed to get any smaller.

The towels were no longer crisp white. They matched the creamy color of the coffee, heavy with saturation.

The cicadas were out in droves in the trees outside, the melody of their summer song echoing in your empty lab.

It was an ocean by that point. The smell of sweetened coffee filled your nose.

The water was rising.

Getting colder and darker.

That’s when you realized you weren’t swimming in water. Your head was underneath it.

Eyes wide with terror, you were grasping at the arms holding you down. Trying to pry them away. Trying to escape.

Hawks was wearing his usual goofy smile, wings flicking as he worked to drown you. He was saying something to you, statements punctuated with laughter that you couldn’t hear.

You inhaled great globs of air, the water swirling around you and filling your lungs.

You could breathe but you were still suffocating.

Hawks released a hand to check his watch, but the force didn’t shift. You still couldn’t free yourself.

Your limbs were caught in the kelp surrounding you. Hawks had left, allowing you to be captured by something else.

Seaweed was--

“Sleeping at work is bad practice, my dear.”

A gasp tore through you and you jumped away.

But you had been sitting on your stool, head resting on the table. Your feet became tangled, your knee striking the table leg forcefully as you crashed onto the ground. The sound of twanging steel rang out as your stool went down with you.

“Don’t!” you roared, full of shrieky panic as you scampered back, ignoring the pain of your lower limbs.

The chuckling grew fainter, dying away in the throat of All Might who had been the one to rip you from your nightmare. You were staring at him, something was off about you. It wasn’t just because he scared you awake.

“You were the one they got?” you bemoaned as you remained seated on the floor.

He lost his teasing expression, lip curling up when he noticed your grubby appearance and heavily-lidded, dark eyes.

“What is going on with you?” he asked, the disgust apparent. “You’ve stopped cleaning yourself?”

“What can I do? What can I do?” you chanted, looking up at him with such despair that he was certain you were experiencing some kind of psychotic break. “Please don’t kill me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Hawks is going to kill me,” you sighed, an empty choke punctuating the statement. “Because my work didn’t work. And it looks like they picked you to do it.”

“Kill you? I didn’t come here to kill you, stupid girl.”

“Doesn’t matter anymore.” You were rubbing your eyes, wiping away tears that hadn’t fallen in days. “If not you then him. All because Yoshida didn’t die. It was him or me. Now it’s me.”

Silence fell over the two of you.

“Hawks…” All Might was racking his brain, trying to associate a face with the name but coming up blank. “You work with him?”

“He has a boss who gets work. From me. The work that didn’t work.”

“Work that didn’t work,” he repeated to himself, patience wearing thin as he tried to comprehend what the fuck was going on. “Something didn’t work… and now he’s going to kill you? Did he tell you this--”

“At the grocery store. If Yoshida didn’t die, they’d come for me. I don’t know what day it is. It’s close. I’m dead.”

Things were falling into place in All Might’s mind. You had done work for someone… who was planning on killing another person… who didn’t die? And now they were coming back to kill you for the failure. And some man named Hawks was involved.

So you were acting crazy… because you were afraid to die.

All Might started laughing.

It was a sound that originated deep in his gut, his head falling back as hands settling on his waist. Then he was looking at you, shaking his head.

“No one is going to kill you, stupid girl.”

He said it with such certainty.

Inside you, something stirred.

“Wha--”

“No one will kill you,” he repeated, waving your entire downward spiral away dismissively. “Because I’m here.”

He would… save you?

All Might was watching your face. Life was returning to your eyes, your confusion shifting to something else -- he wasn’t quite sure what. But anything blooming disappeared in favor of a wobbly lower lip and ugly grimace.

He frowned when you started to cry in earnest, blubbering at him incoherently.

“Stop it,” he grumbled. “I didn’t know you were so-- “

“Will you really?” you asked, broken voice thick with something honeyed. “... I won’t die?”

“You will if you keep up this feeble-minded nonsense, it’s depressing. But otherwise… no, you won’t die.”

'Stop crying,' you scolded yourself as hope flooded your veins. You gave another deep inhale, pushing up off the ground. You felt heavy. Like something that had been soaking too long. Waterlogged.

“I think…” you looked around, at the chaos that had been your cage, before eyes landed back on All Might. “I think I’d like to take a shower.”

Everything about you was on empty. Hygiene levels. Hunger. Stamina. You felt like a cardboard cutout. A mannequin. But as you stood, surrounded by the warm embrace of steam in your shower, you started to feel human again.

It was… oddly comforting knowing that the greatest villain in Japan (and possibly the world) had told you he would protect you. His words meant something.

Even though he had acted disgusted at the state you were in, All Might didn’t put up a fuss when it came to getting you home. In fact, he had been the one to suggest a quick jumping trip as opposed to a walk home, which you accepted too eagerly. You didn’t want to be out in the open and you didn’t want to walk. Wordlessly he held you against his chest before flinging himself up and away.

You’d dozed off almost immediately, only to be shaken awake what seemed like seconds later when All Might demanded your keys.

The man was a villain. But damn, if you didn’t feel… safe.

The shower you took was obscenely long. You wanted the soap and water to permeate your very core and wash away all the gunk that had been bottled up inside. At one point a series of bangs at the bathroom door almost made you vomit your heart. But then All Might’s voice thundered out, checking to see if you were still alive.

He didn’t answer when you called back.

You found him sitting on your couch watching television when you returned to the living room, dressed in your pajamas with your wet hair brushed back. He raised a brow, glancing you over.

“Well, you don’t smell anymore,” he remarked, lazily turning back to watch TV.

You coughed, fidgeting.

“I was… a little crazy back at my lab.”

“I noticed.”

“Sometimes the pressure gets to me.”

“I noticed.”

“Thank you.”

It was a heartfelt sentiment, the words drawn-out just enough so he could hear the sincerity behind each movement of your mouth.

A weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You originally wanted to beat the odds and prove that this self-image you had of being tenacious villain-wrangler was true…

But he was a person who knew what to do. The peace of mind he symbolized was astounding. So what if you were weak in this situation, wasn’t it acceptable? Wasn’t it okay? All Might could fight well and you could comprehend complex circuitry. Different strengths. Different weaknesses.

All Might snorted but a self-satisfied smirk played on his lips.

“Warming up to me again?” he rumbled and you caught a spark of blue peeking over at you.

You rolled your eyes but granted him an actual smile -- bits of your personality were already returning from their hiatus.

“Maybe a little bit. Depends on the outcome, though.”

“Go to bed,” he said with a jerk of his head in of the direction of your bedroom; he chose to forgo suggesting that you join him on the couch.

You shifted again, brows furrowing. Bed sounded wonderful but…

“What about you?”

“I’ll wait around for a bit,” he said casually, reaching for the remote. With some difficulty he changed the channel, accidentally bringing up a random menu in the process thanks to the surface area of his thumb.

“A bit,” you repeated, a white-hot horror squeezing your gut at the implication he’d leave you alone at some point. He heard the tension in your voice.

“I’m not going to just sit here,” he grumbled. You didn’t ease up and he found himself exhaling, shoulders adjusting. “Just go to bed.”

You still hesitated.

“Let me handle it.”

There was finality in what he said.

“Okay…” you said slowly. Uncomfortably. “I’m… gonna trust you.”

Please don’t ruin that trust, you wanted to continue, but you couldn’t form the sentence. You felt it hang in the air.

Sharp teeth and a too-large smile greeted you when you glanced back at his face.

“Sweetheart,” he said in his drawn-out way, brow flicking up. “That’s the smartest decision you’ve made yet.”

Exhaustion smothered you like an avalanche, overtaking you completely once your head hit your pillow.

There were no dreams, no interruptions. Just pure oblivion.

But then your state of nonexistence started to fade and consciousness returned. You were stirring, eyes opening to find a too-bright and too-warm room. Immediately you kicked your covers away, trying to find some sort of breathability.

Aches had settled deep in your bones as if your body had physically manifested the stress you had been under. It felt like you had been running for too long or had been lifting too-heavy weights.

The clock on your phone told you it was almost 4 o’clock in the evening.

You had no idea what time you had gone to bed.

All Might was not in the living room when you tiptoed out of your room. The television was off. He wasn’t in your apartment -- you glanced through the rooms. Everything felt too quiet.

You turned the TV back on.

He had been watching a cooking channel.

The hunger pang struck once you visualized food. You were cleaned, you were rested. Now, you needed nourishment.

But there was none.

With a groan you walked into your kitchen, opening the refrigerator you already knew was empty. You never finished your food shopping, too strung-out by Hawks’ appearance to do anything else but run and hide.

Leaving to pick something up wasn’t an option for you, despite the voice telling you that you’d be out in public and would have herd protection. The confinement of your apartment exuded safety. It was your rabbit hole.

But you couldn’t not eat.

So you ordered out.

While you waited for your delivery, you continued the uphill battle of reclaiming your humanity. You kicked things off by thoroughly brushing your teeth in hopes a proper cleaning would make up for all the neglect. Then you moved to opening windows and turning on fans to get the heated summer air circulating. It was a hot day, so you swapped your pajamas for running shorts and a t-shirt.

The knock on the door came while you were layering lotion onto the dry patches of skin. With a minor skip in your step, you headed to greet the pizza man, your new savior.

“Delivery!” Hawks sang when you opened the door, pizza box and paper bag in hand. The soda hung from his wrist, held by a plastic bag.

Everything inside you shattered.

“But…?”

“What kind did you get?” he asked, bypassing your petrified form, putting the collection of food on your coffee table. He tsked when he peeled open the box. “Just a regular cheese? Boring.”

He peeked in the paper bag, perking up.

“Oh, but you got fries.”

You literally pinched yourself. Pain. This was no dream.

“So,” Hawks was readily devouring your fries when he stood up to face you. “You know why I’m here…”

Before you could form a thought, a movement in your bedroom doorway caught your eye.

“Ah, you’re Hawks.”

Eleation. You felt pure elation at hearing the rich baritone of All Might’s voice slicing through the terror of your soul. Even Hawks was surprised, poking his head out to try and catch a glimpse of the man who was walking down your short hallway. He didn’t recognize the voice but he sure as hell recognized the person.

It was the first time you had seen Hawks tongue-tied, even if it only lasted a second.

“All Might!” A wide smile split his face, eyes dancing between the two of you. “I didn’t know All Might was going to be here! Talk about having a famous friend!”

“I’ve decided to take care of her vermin problem,” All Might said. With a bored breath he crossed his arms, looking the younger man over. At the word ‘vermin,’ Hawks pointed to himself, mouthing ‘me?’

“I’ve got no problems with you,” Hawks said, placing down the bag of fries and dusting off his hands before raising them. “I’ve just got a job to do, you know? Nothing personal.”

“Thing is, I use her services. So you’re interfering with my business.”

“Oof, then we’re at a bit of an impasse, aren’t we?”

“No.” All Might was scowling, a predatory gleam sparking across his face. “This little threat you have against her is going to end. Otherwise, I’ll get involved. There’s no stalemate here.”

“Now, All Might--”

“Run along, little bird,” he continued, cutting Hawks off. “Go back to whoever you need to. Otherwise, I’ll drop my diplomatic schtick. The fact we’re even having a conversation is a kindness.”

“With--”

“Don’t try my patience.”

Hawks let out a loud sigh, dropping his hands to his sides.

“This is going to give me a headache…”

“You seem like a smart bird. Handle it.”

Hawks looked at the beast that was All Might, holding a brief staring contest before shrugging, disengaging completely from a potential territorial bout.

“All right, all right. Consider this a gift from a superfan, All Might. I’ll handle this…”

“Smart.”

“Man, if I knew I was going to be meeting All Might today…” Hawks shook his head, staring down at his casual attire. “I would have put a little effort in.”

“Before you…” All Might waved his hand,” …’fly off’ -- I’ll level this entire city to find you if I feel slighted.”

“I get it! Jeez. But you gotta check your work, okay?” Hawks was looking at you, shaking his head. “This is not going to go down easy. He’s gonna leave a three-star review about your work, at least.”

Hawks didn’t linger, muttering to himself before turning on the charm again. He left with an enthusiastic goodbye to All Might and a wink to you. Your front door closed softly behind him.

… And that was it.

The battle of all battles didn’t happen in your living room, as you had expected. Nothing was broken or smashed. No one lost any limbs. You still had your life. The only casualties were a handful of fries. It was all rather… anticlimactic.

Not that you were about to complain.

You waited but Hawks didn’t return.

“That’s who you were scared of?” All Might snorted. “What was he, a teenager? You should have just put a bug zapper up to deal with him.”

All Might.

He really did handle it.

You had trusted him.

And he kept his word.

“--Or complained to his high school. This was a disappointment.”

All Might watched as you launched into sudden, quick strides across the room toward him. The irritation he felt at the laughable threat dissolved when you threw your arms around his torso.

You were safe.

You felt his body vibrating against your face, a deep chuckle rocking him at your saved damsel reaction. 

He fell quiet.

He could feel you breathing against him.

He could smell the floral perfume of your recently-applied lotion.

You had only planned for a hug, but All Might had been denied your touch a little too long.

And he couldn’t hold off any longer.

He darted down, arms wrapping around you to bring you closer into his chest.

You were being bent back, he was leaning down considerably.

It was cause for a backache for the both of you. But it didn’t matter.

Your mouths collided, a firestorm of pent-up tension and apprehension immediately unleashing despite the laughably minor contact. There was no gradual progression of intensity; neither of you acknowledged the heated knocking of your teeth or the striking of your noses as your faces pressed into one another’s.

All Might couldn’t help himself -- he was squeezing your body tighter, hot tongue parting your soft lips so he could finally savor you. Again.

You tasted like mint.

He was pushing you further backward, crushing you against his body. Demanding you to be closer to him.

There was a faint touch against his cheeks -- your hands were gliding across his skin, settling on the sides of his head, capturing his earlobes between your fingers and tugging on them. A breath hitched in your nostrils.

Compared to the fire of his skin, your hands felt frigid.

You were also attempting to pull him closer, desperately working to keep up with the movements of his tongue. It caressed the plushness of your mouth before striking out to grapple with yours. Apparently, he had only been using the tip of his tongue for exploration; when he felt a soft vibration dance across your mouth -- a strangled sigh -- his tongue pushed deeper, hungry for more, growing impossibly wider and thicker. Your mouth was full of him. Hot, slick and strong.

You broke first, pulling away with a pop and a gasp. You needed a few steadying breaths before jumping back into the fray, though you didn’t go back to his mouth. Instead, you nipped at his lower lip. His hot and heavy huffs struck at your face, your insides curling with a desire for friction.

All Might’s fingers were squeezing, digging into whatever flesh of yours they were touching as you moved to sucking his mouth, your tongue tracing the dips and crests of his lips before returning to bites and licks.

You were emboldened by his lack of domination.

So you moved away from his mouth, peppering kisses across his chin and cheeks, working down to his thick neck. Your hands moved, fingertips stroking tense muscles, eventually resting against his chest.

His heartbeat was loud and strong against your touch.

All Might unwrapped his arms unhurriedly -- you felt every bit him slide across your body as he adjusted. You felt him grab all of your ass, sides and portions of your upper thighs. His hands were so big.

“I…” you went quiet, your own heartbeat thundering not from touch, but from nerves.

Aroused by his temperature and closeness, a fantasy of yours had weaseled to the forefront of your mind. You continued to leave light, open-mouthed kisses against his neck before nuzzling your face against the juncture of his jaw and throat.

“I… I want to thank you… for helping me.”

It was sudden. You knew you should have given it some time. Waited a bit.

Hawks had just left. What if he came back? But he wouldn't. The wrath of All Might was too big of a threat to just ignore. Even you knew that.

So there you were.

Everything about you felt alive because you were alive.

You heard and felt him swallow, his skin contracting and shifting against your face. He tilted his head down closer to yours, his chin pressing against the top of your head.

“Oh?”

Even if he was feeling the effects of your affection, his voice didn’t betray anything. The tone was still firm and full of teasing richness. You sighed at the way his chest rumbled when he spoke.

“I can’t read minds, kitten,” he said after a few seconds of silence and inaction. He felt your body flutter at the nickname -- he made note of your reaction immediately. “How do you want to thank me?”

You pulled away from him (well, as far away as you could -- he wasn’t letting go of your ass) and rolled your shoulders, hiding your red-tinted face. You were wearing a humored-but-embarrassed smile when you finally looked back to him.

“You got me off with your mouth last time,” you said quietly. Having to speak your thoughts still made you uncomfortable. But your eyes flashed as they bore into the shadows of his face. “So I’d like to return the favor.”

There was the slightest twitch across his cheek. Everything about him went a bit tighter and you wondered if he was attempting to keep himself under control. You had to admit -- the idea that just a statement from you could get All Might hot and heavy was intoxicating.

He won the battle of his libido, a toothy smirk spreading across his face as he relaxed, the danger passing. He released his hold on your ass, standing at full height and taking your chin in his hand.

“How could I say no to that?”

Well. You offered and he accepted. Now it was no longer a fantasy. It was… actually going to happen.

You cleared your throat, your bravery failing as you realized logistics.

“I’m… inexperienced in this area,” you said with your best professional demeanor, trying not to look like a fool. “So guidance would be appreciated--”

His hands were at your backside, scooping you up into his arms. He gave you a hard kiss, loudly sucking on your lower lip, only to pull back when you went to invite him into your mouth. It wasn’t more kissing he was interested in.

You were being walked somewhere.

His focus turned to that beautiful neck of yours. He was breathing against you when he fell back, plopping onto your couch with enough force that the entire piece of furniture groaned and sagged underneath him.

Neither of you paid any mind -- he was gripping the back of your neck, running the flat of his tongue up the base of your throat to your jaw.

“Can you -- ah -- go a little easier, this time?” you asked when you felt his lips press down, sucking at your skin. “The biting was a little harsh.”

In response, he took a bit of flesh between his teeth. You braced yourself for the stinging pain -- which did appear -- though it was much weaker than what you were expecting. You hummed, petting his bang in thanks that he wasn’t tearing flesh from you.

He seemed enthusiastic about paying attention to your neck but you wanted to get the show on the road. You tugged at his upright bang as he continued kissing, sucking and biting, trying to get his attention as you felt his tongue trace over a recently divvied love bite.

Eventually, he got the hint and, with an irritated breath, pulled away from your throat and loosened his grip on your backside.

Relatively free, you scooted down, landing squarely on his crotch.

Suddenly, everything in him tensed up.

“Careful, kitten,” he said, a tightness in his voice coaxing a smile from you.

You ran your hands across his chest, languishly rolling your hips against him. He clenched his jaw, hands dropping to settle on your thighs.

“How much have you done?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him. “You didn’t bleed when I fingered you. And you should have.”

For good measure, he held up two fingers, allowing you to see their length and width. They had been inside you. You took a deep breath, trying to remain stoic as you heart thrummed. Your hands drifted lower.

“Not everyone bleeds,” you said. “And I’ve been… experimenting.”

“But you’ve never sucked a cock?”

At the vulgarity you flinched, your passivity falling apart.

Your movements slowed.

All Might pounced.

“Ah, nervous?” he purred, changing tactics. Suddenly he was moving his hips underneath you, grinding his crotch against your backside.

You felt it. The lumbering beast waking.

“No need for fear.” The way he spoke hinted otherwise. “We’ll take it nice and slow. But…” He leaned down, his breath fanning across the top of your head. “If you stay sitting on me like that, I might get the wrong idea.”

That… that was something you wanted to work up to.

Ignoring the rocking of his hips, your eyes flickered to his face and the arrogant look affixed to it. Worrying your lower lip between your teeth you shifted, pushing his hands off your thighs so you could slide off his lap and onto the floor.

You settled on your knees, watching his legs almost instinctively open, inviting you to pull yourself closer to him -- which you did.

Now or never.

Gingerly, you reached your hand out, pressing it against the heat in his pants. A first step.

He chuckled, a reaction that made you look up at him with minor alarm.

“I’m wearing thick pants, kitten. I can’t feel your touch.”

That… was true.

With a deep breath, you reached for his belt buckle, working to unclasp it. When it fell open, deft fingers moved to his pant buttons and zipper.

“Good girl.”

Everything about him exuded heat, a fact made more apparent when you slipped your hand into the space between his khakis and his underwear. You heard him inhale at the contact, but your attention was too focused on the twitching hardness beneath your palm to glance up at him.

There wasn’t much you could do in such a confined space, other than rub him, so that’s what you did. With equal parts curiosity and arousal, you started your investigation; at first pushing your hand as deep and wide as you could go before searching for definition, your fingers digging, determined to feel the width of his cock.

Judging from his breathing, and the increasing hardness beneath your hand, you were doing a decent job palming him. It was hard to visualize his member, though. It felt imposing.

You came across a damp spot in his underwear and smirked, assuming you found the head of Goliath. So you pressed down, digits dancing around the bulbous shape.

His legs moved and he attempted to hide his soft grunt with a chuckle.

“That’s it, darling,” he said, voice thick. “Keep pressing right there.”

So you did. Taking a page from erotica and porn, you rubbed your thumb against the very top of his cock, looking up at his face just in time to see his jaw go taut. You grinned up at him, a strange surge of power resting in your gut, as your hand gripped shaft and tugged down.

You moved to light jerking, feeling his skin slide, your fingers always returning to rub and prod the head before journeying deeper down his length.

He continued to grow heavier and thicker.

Eventually All Might’s hand settled on top of yours, silently removing your hand from his pants. He was shifting, pulling his khakis further down his thighs in order to expose more of the front of his underwear.

His arms returned to the armrest and across the back of the couch.

You could see it then, the bulge that had been further freed from the confines of his pants. It was tenting, a mountain of fabric your eyes traced. A mountain you were looking to summit.

“What are you planning on doing next?”

You bit down the urge to comment on the state of his voice, humming and hawing instead as you reached out and rested your hand against his clothed hardness.

“I’m torn,” you cooed, brushing the head of his cock, inwardly smiling when his length twitched. “Should I keep using my hand… or should I move to my mouth?”

You met his gaze, another bout of courage flooding your veins. He snorted a chuckle, pointed teeth appearing.

“I don’t know if I like this newfound cockiness,” he said thickly. “Especially in a supposed first-timer.”

You matched his chuckle before acquiescing under his gaze.

“This is a thank you,” you admitted. Fine, you’d play the part. Biting your lower lip, your gaze flickered between his cock and his face. “Why delay?”

You pushed your hair out of the way, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss against his cock. Followed by another. Then another.

It took everything in All Might to remain stoic, though an occasional grunting breath escaped. It was quite the sight, seeing you on your knees between his legs. You were mouthing by that point -- two hands gripping him hesitantly while your tongue reached out to flick against his cockhead.

He clenched his teeth when he felt pleasure ripple down his cock and up through his gut.

“That’s it,” he purred, hands fisting as a prickling sensation rolled across the back of his neck. His thigh shuddered when you hummed in response to his praise, the vibrations dancing across his shaft.

Your hands were groping, jerking and tugging as your beautiful tongue and mouth worked across him, twisting his gut tighter. There was no rhythm to your motions -- he’d correct that when you moved to direct touch. But there was enthusiasm. You were trying different things, using your tongue then switching to mouthing before sucking down against him.

“Right there--”

Unable to hold it back, he released a low growl when your mouth made its way back to the head of his cock, tongue prodding the tip as lips enclosed around it to suck.

The sound was music to your ears and you found yourself releasing your own small moan at hearing him enjoy your ministrations.

“Should I move on?” you asked. “I want to see you.”

“You’re an eager little thing,” he rumbled, shifting deeper in the couch. “What is it you want to see?”

You blushed and shook your head, lowering your hand to rub at his leg, still unsure if you hated or loved the games he played.

“Your cock,” you said, voice soft and lips barely moving.

“Ah, you want to see my cock,” he grinned. “Why?”

You cringed at him, hiding your chin under the neckline of your shirt to hide your uncomfortable and stupid smile.

“Tell me what you want,” he said.

“I want to suck your cock, All Might.” Bright eyes and pink cheeks searched his face. He relaxed his brows.

“By all means, sweetheart.”

You gripped the band of his boxer briefs, nervous energy bubbling in your gut as you pulled the elastic down. Slowly it was unveiled -- the thick, large cock of the great villain All Might.

“Keep going,” he instructed and you continued to pull the elastic down, revealing the heavy balls at the base. When his entirety was out in the open, All Might assisted in securing his underwear under his hips.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you took a minute to regard him.

He wasn’t as big as you originally feared. With his stature, you thought he may have had a baseball bat tucked away in his pants. It was still large but it was… proportionate to him. Though it wasn’t the length that struck you, it was his thickness. There was no way you could fit his cock in your mouth without him scraping across your teeth or dislocating your jaw. But to imagine pushing that inside of you… it would be so filling. A nice, stretching girth, you envisioned. Though the adjustment period would probably be dotted with pain.

You were admiring his other attributes -- prominent veins, bulbous red head, heavy balls -- when his hand came into view to openly stroke himself in front of you.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he murmured.

Ah, he was looking for an ego boost.

Well, it was a thank you.

“You’re so big…” you said softly, watching the lewd show he was putting on. A chortle.

“What else are you thinking?”

Assuming his arousal was spurring his motions, you met his eyes. You softly touched his wrist, watching with delight when he stopped his hand. After a slight tug, he pulled away.

Your hand his replaced his.

His thighs flexed as you stroked up and down his length, adding a slight twist to your motions.

“I was thinking how big you are,” you repeated with a hum, keeping your movements slow. “I was wondering what your balls would feel like in my hands--” He was shifting. “--What it would be like to have something like this inside of me--” A grunt. “--And what you taste like.”

All Might kept his mouth closed, his teasing dying in his chest.

You took a steadying breath before leaning forward, flicking your tongue out to catch the head of his cock. It was an unfamiliar sensation but you continued on, acting as if it was just one of his massive fingers you were sucking.

“Keep going.”

It was a deep-throated command and you obeyed, growing a little bolder and dragging your tongue across his tip. You could suck at it, enclose your lips around it, but you couldn’t take it any deeper.

You kissed down the underside of his shaft, catching the change in his breathing as you pressed the flat of your tongue against him.

“Keep that tongue out,” All Might said.

Again, you obeyed, tracing patterns as you worked to paint every bit of his dick with saliva. You even made a detour down to his balls, licking and sucking as you rolled them in your hands. Judging from his face and shifting, All Might liked that.

But it was his cock that needed your attention and you soon found your way back.

Your hands kept busy while you worked. One was attempting to pump his considerable width, the other had drifted down so you could roll each ball in your palm.

If he had planned on giving you direction, All Might was failing. His mouth was pulled closed in a slight grimace, eyes trained on the sloppy worship you had devolved into. Kissing, licking, sucking -- there was no inch of him your mouth wasn’t at.

“Put--” he clenched his teeth, growling when you traced your tongue along the underside of his cock. “Put your mouth… on the head… and pump.”

You were spitting quietly along the tip of his dick, forcing great globs of saliva to trail down his length, adding lubricant. He was oozing precum consistently, a salty substance that you still needed to get used to. Licking your lips, you enclosed them around his cockhead, both hands coming together to pump his shaft while you sucked.

All Might pushed against the back of your couch, knees bumping into you.

“Fuck,” he growled, a harsh sound almost hidden under his loud, uneven breathing. You looked up at him, taken in by the spark of blue peering back at you.

It was a beautiful sight, seeing your mouth so stretched around him. He swallowed loudly, tension bubbling in his gut. His eyes flicked up to the living room window he was facing. You hadn’t closed the blinds, not that there were any other buildings around.

Warmth rippled up his back.

Maybe that stupid birdbrain was out there, watching--

All Might hissed, thoughts failing when the churning within him started reaching a fever pitch.

“Keep sucking,” he demanded. “Keep sucking just like that, kitten. I’m close now.”

You continued and one of his hands stroked the side of your face. Then it was entangled in your hair, pressing and pulling at your scalp.

“Swallow every last drop,” he said as a throaty growl ripped through him. “First man to cum down your throat.”

That last bit was probably more for him, you recognized. You increased your speed, tongue flicking out and tracing patterns before prodding his slit.

He pulled his hand quickly from your hair, returning it safely to the back of the couch so he could grip without fear of injuring you. His breathing was ragged -- a redness had bloomed across his face and neck. Teeth were being displayed in a heated grimace.

“Fuck,” he hissed, pulling his body tighter, ass and legs clenching. He was pushing his dick up into your mouth, still somehow displaying a level of self-control to prevent himself from thrusting into you.

You groaned around him, his mannerisms and expressions some of the hottest things you’d seen.

And you were doing that to him.

The only warning you got that he was cumming was a final, thunderous ‘fuck.’ Then, he was erupting, oozing out large wads of cum into your mouth, coating your palate completely. You panicked slightly -- the speed was in slow, languid bursts but the amount was considerable. He gripped the couch, lower body jerking as you worked to swallow everything. It was a chore -- the taste and texture were unfamiliar and your immediate reaction was to pull back and spit out everything.

But he had said nothing was to be spilled.

Plus you had a final trick up your sleeve you’d been eager to try out. He opened his eyes and looked down at you just in time to see a spark of mischievousness alight in yours.

Time to return some favors.

You reached out with your quirk, spinning time back a few seconds.

It felt like he had just cum, though he knew he didn’t. But it was knee-shaking feeling when he suddenly felt himself erupting into your mouth again. For the first time.

He let out a loud growl, snarling down at you and the trick you were playing on him, body trembling. Your throat was bobbing as you worked to swallow his large load, though the faint taste of cum lingered in your mouth.

All Might caught your eye again.

Another look.

“Don’t--!”

It was too late.

He nearly howled, fingers tearing into the fabric of your couch at the intensity, hips thrusting up and forcing you to follow. The redness across his face had grown a bit deeper and included the tips of his ears.

Faithfully you swallowed his technically first and final load, stroking him in with a slow, even rhythm while he came down.

His chest was heaving as if breathing was difficult for him. When his erupting cock had settled, you pulled your mouth away with an audible pop, curious to see how he would react to you.

Three times was enough -- for you and him.

That last time he almost seemed… angry.

You got your answer when his hand whipped out, fingers grasping around your throat and pulling you against him.

For a brief second, you thought he was going to snap your neck.

But he was forcing you into a messy kiss, unconcerned that some of his seed still lingered in the recesses of your mouth. His tongue lapped any trace up, basking in the mixed taste of you and him.

All Might groused against you, brutally sucking at your tongue and biting your somewhat-tender lips. You winced and, at feeling that movement against his face, he settled down.

“Did I do good?” you murmured against his mouth when he pulled back.

He exhaled, gripping your hair and pulling your head back so he could hide his face against your neck, drinking in your smell.

“That stunt… deserves some punishment…” he wheezed.

For a brief second you were… elated.

You had left All Might a gasping, twitching mess.

All Might.

All Might.

You chuckled.

“I may have gotten a little carried away.”

You liked the feeling of basking in the afterglow. You felt and heard his breathing normalizing and his fingers were combing through your hair quite nicely. Affectionately.

But the coughing started.

A wet sound racked through All Might’s body and he pulled away, pushing you off of him onto the couch. Something was wrong. He was coughing into his fist and frowning, turning away from you as he quickly worked to put his lower half back in order.

“Is--”

“I have to go,” he grumbled, wiping his hand on his pants as he worked to zip himself and re-fasten his belt buckle.

“Are--”

Your brows furrowed as you watched him head toward the front door -- you scrambled off the couch after him.

“Lock your bedroom window,” was all he said before disappearing in a gust of wind out of your front door.

There were no goodbyes exchanged or promises of another rendezvous.

Your shoulders sagged.

The first time you had fallen asleep.

The second time he had literally run out on you.

You locked the door when you were certain he wasn’t going to come back, mind reeling over what could have happened.

What… what a strange night.

As scenes replayed in your head of escaping death and sucking cock, you found yourself mindlessly gnawing at the nearly-forgotten pizza. All Might had seemed pleased with you. It looked like he enjoyed everything you had done. He engaged in some aftercare. But the coughing… maybe he was running a fever? Feeling vomity?

That would explain the need for a sudden departure -- if he didn’t want to throw-up in front of a girl who just gave him a blowjob.

On the third slice, it struck you that Hawks could have poisoned your food.

Panic squeezed your heart and your appetite was effectively curbed. Though you stood with your phone ready, in case you needed to call for help, you didn’t drop dead or fall into convulsions.

Okay, looked like he didn’t.

You indulged in a fourth slice of pizza before packing the box up and throwing away the half-eaten french fries that Hawks had ruined with his sullied fingers.

Showered. Rested. And finally fed.

The threat of death? Gone.

You examined the newly-formed tears on your couch, poking the stuffing back in. You should have a sewing kit in your bedroom.

Despite its oddities, it had been a good day.

Though you wished he would have stayed.

Chapter Text

“In other news -- officials confirm that the youngest Yoshida son, who was hospitalized after a suspected nerve agent attack last week, has died. Yoshida Ikki was twenty-nine years old when t--”

Hawks sighed as he slid his half-empty beer bottle across the bartop, batting it between his hands. His chin rested on the highly-polished wood, eyes watching the reflection of the bottle in the sheen as it passed.

“There’s no reason for you to be so… blue. You made the right decision."

Hawks ignored the voice and sighed again, considerably louder.

He heard the clinking of cleaned glasses being returned to their shelves, but the bartender didn’t engage in any additional conversation, which was not what Hawks wanted.

Another, louder sigh--

“If you’re going to--”

“I wished our meeting had been cooler,” he griped, sitting up and settling the bottle directly in front of him. “It was All Might, All Might!, and all we did was talk about the support lab girl. I wanted to see flying fists! A freaking tornado or something. But he just stood there and... “

He let out a disgusted ‘tch.’

The bartender draped the drying rag over his shoulder and stopped his cleaning.

Fine. He’d play the part of the sympathetic ear.

“I expected more… fire and fury. Not…” Hawks frowned, tilting the bottle back and forth. “Whatever that was. A five-minute talk.”

“He didn’t think you were a threat,” the bartender said simply. The winged villain shot him a dirty look but said nothing. “No one knows who you are, Hawks. Not yet. He probably thought you were some street punk. Which you are, and will be, until you make a name for yourself.”

“I hate working cleanup,” Hawks said, eyes flashing to the television. A moment of silence passed. “My debut has to be awesome. I want people to know I’m here to stay.” His face darkened. “And that I’ll be an even bigger thorn in their side than All Might ever could be. Ever was .”

“And we’re working on that. Rome wasn’t built in a day, was it? It’ll take time to get the pieces into place.”

“And then I’ll swoop in and expose all those bullshit heroes and even bigger bullshit villains for who they really are.”

“Phonies? Fakes?” The bartender chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re starting to sound suspiciously like Stain.”

Hawks bristled, casting an irritated look to the doorway. He half-expected to see the noseless freak standing there, rambling about the state of the corrupt world to fatigued ears. But it was early and he was likely still asleep upstairs.

“Your time in the sun will come,” the bartender continued, watching as Hawks drained the last of his beer. He plucked the empty bottle off the counter, giving the Hawks-smudged surface a few cursory wipes with his cloth. “Don’t rush what we’re creating. Besides, that talk of yours wasn’t a waste of time, was it? You didn’t walk away empty-handed. You got information. And that’s important. It’s required.”

“Alright, alright. I get it.”

Hawks pushed himself away from the bar, rolling his shoulders as his wings stretched out behind him. His demeanor shifted away from angry melancholy and he grinned, watching as his companion carefully disposed of the bottle in the recycling can behind the counter.

“You know what, in another life you could have been a therapist or something. I always feel better after talking to you.”

The bartender chuckled dryly -- it was an observation he had been told before.

“Perhaps that’s why I became a bartender. To listen.”

“Yeah a bartender, that’s what you are.”

The younger man frowned, checking the time on his cell phone. It was late afternoon -- he had hours to kill.

“I guess I’ll go… walk around or something? Maybe go to the movies…? I should really find a hobby. A guy like me shouldn’t just spend his days wasting time. Anyway, let me know if anything pops up. I won’t be far.”

Hawks gave a small salute as he stood in the doorway.

“Good talk, boss.”

Chapter Text

You jiggled the metal container of newly-purchased mints in your hand, staring at the modern-style building that was a stone’s throw away from where you stood. An unexpected tartness attacked your taste buds, though it was intertwined with a strange hint of mint.

Ah. So that’s what it meant by ‘Arctic Strawberry.’

An older woman wearing hot-pink pants was approaching the building from the opposite direction. She caught your eye and smiled, giving a small wave. An action that you returned.

She disappeared inside.

You popped another mint into your mouth.

It was a routine you had fallen into after weathering your first krav maga class -- standing outside the building and giving yourself a pep talk that you needed to suck it up and follow-through with your decision.

Even if the class left everything about you sore.

Having been put at risk of being killed, you had taken a good look at your life and lifestyle choices. It was stupidly naive of you to think you’d be safe doing work for villains. That you ran no risks other than being apprehended in an undercover sting by law enforcement. You had always assumed you could offer refunds or exchanges in the case of product failure. Or you could get by with some ‘connections.’

Hell, you’d throw in some free repairs!

Then Hawks appeared to let you know that there was another viable option for an unsatisfied customer.

They could always just murder you.

That was a full stop kind of realization.

After the pumping adrenaline faded, and you had batted away red-faced regret at some of the  other actions you engaged in while in the passionate throes of your sudden lust for life, you started planning.

You wanted to undergo a little bit of a self-revitalization to prepare yourself for the future. Your bubble of safety had been burst. You weren’t as protected as you thought.

You weren’t untouchable.

The first step was investing in a security system overhaul for your lab by actually installing security that wasn’t just a bunch of locks. Then there was the self-improvement. After mulling around different ideas, you bit the bullet and signed up for krav maga classes in the city center. Other than panicked eye-gouging and biting, the only other protection you had worth noting was your quirk. But it only worked in bursts of seconds; you could reset someone back a few motions. However, if they were intent on coming at you, it was doubtful that would do much good.

At least if you took a couple of classes you would learn some skills. It was much better than nothing, plus the Wikipedia articles mentioned how it stressed real-world applications. That was good, right? That seemed like it could be useful.

Your thoughts were silenced when you watched your instructor step toward the building’s large, front window to stare at you. Two classes ago he caught onto your before-class ritual and now made it a point to make eye contact with you.

He was a nice guy who was personally invested in the training of all his students but, my god, if he wasn’t the most infuriating person on the planet. Maybe you wanted to quit without someone making you feel so guilty about it.

Hoisting your gym bag higher on your shoulder, you swallowed the dread in your throat and mentally prepared for the beating that the other women in the class were about to unleash on you. 

The train ride home was quiet.

The bars that dotted your walk home were alive with salarymen and women happily drinking with one another, cheering to the end of another workday, though it had been hours since the after-work crowd had left for ‘home.’ At each establishment, you slowed your steps to prolong your passing glances inside. The night was warm with a refreshing breeze -- doors and windows were flung wide open, voices blending into an enticing hum that further mixed with music and the sweet scent of cooking food.

How long had it been since you’d gone out drinking with your friends? A real night out?

Too long.

By the time you reached the front door of your apartment, dusk had settled. You eyed the buzzing insects around your front light, carefully keeping any from entering when the door opened.

Your apartment was dark and silent, as expected.

There was no life within its walls when you weren’t home.

Exhaustion had settled deep in your bones. Any plans about heading to your lab for some evening hours were quickly thrown out the window when you got a good look at your thighs in your bedroom mirror. You had added another bruise to your growing collection.

No, you needed a chance to recuperate. Three classes a week were brutal on your plush body.

You were drawing a much-needed bath when a loud knock on your front door barreled through your hushed existence. Plopping the bag of Epsom salts on the floor, you peeked out the doorway toward the living room, nerves traveling along your spine as you wondered who the unplanned visitor could be.

Another, louder knock.

The peephole only showed a moving mass of blackness. With trepidation, you unlocked the door and opened it just enough for you to get a look at who was there.

Surprised silence settled as All Might’s smug form greeted you.

Oh.

Several seconds passed without any movement or acknowledgment on your part.

“Someone’s going to call the police if they see me standing here,” he finally said, his voice knocking some sense back into you. With a nod you stepped aside, ushering him in.

“What are you doing here?” you asked. It wasn’t a snippy question -- his visit was truly unexpected.

“Why are you acting like that?” he answered.

“Like what ?”

“Nervous to see me.” His lip curled as he turned toward the sound of running water. “You don’t have someone here, do you?”

“What? No, I was just about to take a bath,” you said. “And I’m not nervous. Usually there are a few weeks between our meetings, so I wasn’t expecting to see you so… soon.”

“Drawing a bath?”

You sighed, looking him over before nodding.

“Yeah I’ve been a little sore so I was going to soak. Speaking of which…”

You bypassed him, afraid of how high the water might have gotten while you weren’t paying attention.

“Sore?” He was following you down the hallway and you calmed when you saw that the tub hadn’t started overflowing in the brief time you were away. “Why are you sore?”

“I started taking self-defense classes,” you said, pouring more salt into the still-filling tub, inhaling the fragrant scent of lavender. “And it’s… intense.”

You paused to direct his gaze to your leg -- a bruise the size of an plum was already turning a prominent shade of purple. Even when you turned back to pouring salt, he remained fixated on it.

“Why are you learning self-defense?”

“Call it inspiration after dealing with Hawks. I need to be able to defend myself better if another ‘disgruntled customer’ comes after me. But the women in my class… they’re like gorillas. Even the small ones.”

All Might kept quiet, lost in thought while you turned off the water valves. You looked back at him, chewing at the inside of your cheek. Should you bring it up now? Or wait?

Just rip the band-aid off. You know that’s why he’s here.

“I’ve been thinking…”

He shifted, crossing his arms.

“About what, sweetheart?” he said. His voice was flat, cautiously uninterested in what you going to say.

“You might have the wrong idea about me.”

“Oh?” The disinterest was gone, replaced with humor. You glared.

“I’m not going to become your personal… whore, if that’s what you were planning.”

He erupted into boisterous laughter, head falling back with his mouth opened wide as his body heaved.

“I’m serious! I hope you don’t think you can just drop in whenever and assume you’re going to get something from me.”

He was still in the throes of his hearty laugh and showed no signs of easing up.

“I’m very thankful for what you did for me with Hawks, sticking up for me. But I regret how I thanked you.” You groaned, dropping the salt bag back on the ground. “I get down on my knees and suck you off like I’m in some kind of fucking porno. As a thank you. Almost immediately. Like that’s acceptable. What kind of person am I?”

His laughter had died away but the dumb smile was still there. You were rubbing your face by that point.

God, you hated him.

“I hate myself. How I acted. How I continue to act. I don’t behave like that. I don’t want to behave like that. And I feel like I’ve dug myself into a hole because that’s obviously what you expect."

“Now, now--”

“Why are you here, All Might?” You were looking at him, holding his gaze. The smile fell away. “I doubt you came to say hello. No, I think you assumed I'd be willing and able--”

“This flip-flopping of yours is going to wear thin real soon.”

“Be honest then, why are--”

“I came here because I’ve been thinking about your sweet little mouth wrapped around my cock,” he said, a declaration that made your face go a vivid shade of red.

You deflated hearing him prove your point. So he did think of you as some sort of sex toy. He caught on enough to know the words stung.

“You were so happy to see me last time.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re giving me a headache. And I was in such a good mood too.”

“I’m not a whore.”

The statement lacked certainty, he noticed, though that was the tone you were attempting to apply; maybe that’s how it sounded in your head. But to an outsider, there was more… emotion in your words. It held a breath of resentment that All Might didn’t think was being directed at him.

“I never said you were,” he grumbled.

You stood unsure of your next move. The conversation had not flowed as you expected and your thoughts were already stumbling. To your horror, you felt a wave of embarrassment brewing that made your throat clench up. Oh Jesus god, why did you even open your mouth? You shouldn’t have said anything.

Why couldn’t you act like a normal goddamn person?

A sniffle-laced breath weaseled out and your head whipped to the side as you blinked back tears of self-hatred and shame. Do not cry in front of him. Do not. Do not. Do not.

“Now you’re crying,” All Might said, shaking his head with riled disbelief. “What is wrong with you, girl? You’re not right in the head.”

She’s insane. Plagued with mood swings.

“Are you on drugs?” he added as a serious follow-up question. You let out a disgusted sound, shaking your head.

“No! No, ok? God, just go. Let me take my bath.”

You were trying to usher him out of your bathroom and away from your home but he was unmoving.

“Are you mentally disturbed?”

Your hands found their way to your face, sliding down your cheeks. You wanted to crawl into a hole at that point.

“No!”

“Why do you act so crazy then?”

“Because apparently I can’t stop making myself look like an ass in front of you,” you said through gritted teeth, going so far as to place open palms on his hip to push him out. Of course, it was like attempting to move a mountain. Even a week and a half worth of krav maga lessons weren’t enough to give you that kind of strength.

“You only look like an ass when you do this,” he said, gesturing to you. “Get all screwy.”

Seeing you weren’t giving up on your impossible task, he gripped your upper arms to pin them by your sides to settle you down. You winced when hands settled against sensitive flesh.

He caught your reaction.

“What are you doing in your classes?” he asked -- the bruises along your arms were hidden under a long-sleeve shirt. He held you away from him at arm's length, eyes roaming over the visible ones along your legs. Some were minor and had already begun fading to yellow, but there were other prominent ones that he missed.

“Does it matter?” you mumbled, glowering. He huffed and, although you couldn’t see, rolled his eyes.

“Get in the tub.”

“I’m not going to have sex with you in my bathtub. My bones hurt.”

He growled and pushed you away, in the direction of the tub.

“I can’t fit in your tub, stupid girl,” he snapped. His statement was correct -- you eyed his hulking stature and compared it to the narrow, white bathroom fixture.

“Well, aren’t you going to leave? I’m not doing anything after --”

“Just get in the tub. I want nothing from you tonight.”

“I’m not going to bathe with you in here,” you said as if the thought was ludicrous. His scowling face bore into yours.

“Now you have modesty?” he said after quick silence fell between you. You grew flustered that he called out your indecency but, before you could react, he turned so his back was facing you.

That was his idea of privacy?

“I don’t want to take a bath in front of you at all,” you stressed. The muscles across his back danced as his hands and arms flexed. He didn’t turn his head fully, but he shifted it slightly toward his shoulder.

“I’m already here, girl. Just get in your bath.” He paused before adding, in a slightly lower tone. “The water has to be warm for the salts.”

“This isn’t a discussion. This is literally my house and I’m… I’m telling you to leave.”

He exhaled loudly, facing you once more while shaking his head.

“I’m going to be nice to you tonight, girl. I’m going to help you with your muscle fatigue. Get in your bath and soak.” His frown deepened. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

“I don’t--”

A fist clenched and unclenched and he took a steadying breath.

“Soak in your bath.”

He left, shutting the bathroom door behind him. You swallowed, standing uncomfortably on top of your soft bath mat and waited. He was still there. You could feel him.

Eventually you heard his heavy footsteps leave the vicinity of the door.

Should you chase after him to further confront him or, well, bathe? Defeated, you clicked the lock on your doorknob and worked to undress, casting quick looks at the door. You expected that, at any moment, he would come bursting in with greedy eyes.

But he didn’t.

You settled beneath the water, using your hands to churn up the undissolved salt that had sunk to the bottom of the tub. Eyes were still warily glued to the door.

Minutes passed and you didn’t hear him walk by. You sunk a bit deeper, your knees breaching the surface as your back lowered. It was so warm. The lavender so appealing. Your internal springs were unwinding and you leaned your head back, eyes drifting closed.

A loud sound coming from beyond the door made you jump -- it wasn’t a crash, more like a heavy ‘thump.’ You strained your ears, waiting for some kind of follow-up action but heard nothing.

Hesitantly you lowered your upper body back under the water.

How could All Might honestly expect you to relax? You basically gave him free reign of your house. Unsupervised reign. What if he ripped off a kitchen cabinet?

As quickly as the visual entered your mind, it was brushed away.

No. You didn’t think he’d go and ruin anything of yours after his stunt at your lab.

Right?

It was hard to predict him though. He was a bit of an enigma.

Absentmindedly your hand smacked at the surface of the water, ripples skimming across the murky liquid at each contact. Television shows were usually interrupted when he was on a rampage, showing shaky footage of destroyed buildings and chaos in the streets. His laughing visage had become a bad omen for the people of Japan.

Yet, no one had ever arrested him. No one had ever defeated him. Straining your mind, you couldn’t recall any news reports mentioning an All Might fight as close; there were close calls sure, but that phrase was only ever used to describe heroes who had beaten back death after a bout with him.

The water splashed as you adjusted so you were sitting cross-legged, your knees singing with thanks as they were hugged by warmth. A satisfied chill crept down your spine. You leaned back again, working to keep your hair from getting too wet.

All Might was a villain, his actions and presence made it obvious, but he didn’t come off as evil.

Hell, basic interactions with you proved that.

Evil men take what they want. All Might was an asshole, but he was… considerate. To a point.

‘Oh god ,’ you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut. Your emotions were continuing to be the bane of your existence. If you didn’t know any better, you were starting to feel guilty and there was absolutely no reason for you to.

Maybe he was onto something with his mentally disturbed question.

A small laugh escaped you and you shook your head.

If only your quirk could rewind more than a couple of seconds. There was so much you wished you could change.

Eventually, the bath water grew cold and it was no longer pleasurable to lounge in. Standing was an ordeal, as you felt considerably heavier. Draining the tub, you quickly hosed off before wrapping yourself in towels. You stared at the door.

Should you risk going back to your room dressed in towels? What if he was waiting in there?

No, it wasn’t even a question.

You pulled your gym clothes back on.

It was the right choice -- you found him in your bedroom, examining some of the belongings you had sitting on top of your dresser. You cleared your throat but he didn’t look up. Apparently, he wasn’t embarrassed to be caught snooping.

“Can you uh, get out? I have to change.”

One of your necklaces was laid out in his hands and he carefully placed it back where it had been hanging before looking at you. Rather than say something smart, he snorted and lumbered by you, heading to the hallway.

He turned before closing the door, making it a point to let you know he was going to be waiting just on the other side.

You dressed quickly: sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. And, of course, undergarments.

As expected, he was standing right there when you checked.

“Finished?” he said as if his patience had worn thin. You scrunched up your face.

“What… do you want?”

“We’re gonna stretch you out.” Your eyes widened and mouth flew open, but before you could say anything he growled and spoke first. “Your muscles. To help with the soreness, thick-skull. It’ll be good for that back of yours too.”

Your mouth closed.

All Might’s gaze flickered around the floor of the room. The open expanse next to your bed would have to do.

“Your idiot instructor has you stretch before you fight, right?” he asked, gesturing for you to sit on the floor.

You were to sit with the soles of your feet touching. He knelt behind after you did as he commanded.

Your back went rigid when his two hands settled on each knee.

“He’s not an idiot,” you muttered after he told you what to do -- press up against the light pressure he held against your legs. “He’s very smart. And we don’t fight. We do a bunch of different things.”

At his word you stopped pushing, allowing him to settle your knees flush with the floor. You could definitely feel the stretch then.

“And we do stretch,” you added, realizing you hadn’t answered his question. He made a sound -- you weren’t sure if it was a snort, a growl or a chuckle.

Not that it mattered. They could all be used interchangeably when it came to him. They were his default reactions.

“Push,” he said, allowing you to raise your knees to press against his hands again.

“Why the interest in my self-defense?”

He didn’t answer. 

After a couple more sets of pushing and stretching, he moved on to the next exercise. All Might had you extend your legs in front of you; he pressed at your back as you bent forward ‘with your hips.’ You would stretch for several seconds, rest for a couple more, then go back to stretching.

“You’re going to Korea?”

The question was surprising — you looked over your shoulder at him, brows knitted.

“How did you know?”

“You left your mail sitting on your kitchen counter. I saw the invitation.”

“I didn’t realize you were walking around being nosey. I didn’t hear you pass by the bathroom.”

“I can be quiet when I want to be.”

He released your back and you sat straight again.

You were moving. The next position was a bit more… intimate. You averted your face as you laid on your back, All Might leaning over you with your leg propped against his chest, pressing it in toward you. Thankfully he seemed unbothered by the position and was acting almost clinical.

“Yes, I’m going to Korea,” you said to break the silence and give yourself something to focus on. “There’s a support conference in Seoul next month. So I’m going.”

“For how long?”

You winced when he switched legs, your left one had been stiffer. You had a feeling he knew -- it seemed he was paying more attention to the stretches.

“A week. Leaving on a Sunday, coming back on a Monday.”

Another unidentifiable sound. You let a hushed whine when he pressed down at your leg again, the tightness in your upper thigh not getting any better. You looked up in time to watch his mouth shift before finally deciding on a scowl.

You finished the next repetitions in silence.

Thankfully he had you sit up, returning behind you.

The ground trembled and your furniture jittered when he sank on his backside, his back against the wall. His legs were settled on either side of you.

You swallowed, hands twitching when he pulled you back into him, settling you deep in the V-shape of his legs.

His hands were at your neck. One on your shoulder, the other pushing the side of your head to one side.

You stared ahead at the potted plant you had across the room.

Silence.

“You…” his voice died away. “Why do you have the same flower all over your apartment?”

He moved to the other side of your head and you gazed off in confusion at his question.

“What do you mean?” you asked, racking your brain. You had potted plants but you didn’t  have any flowers.

He grunted and held his tongue.

You wondered what was going on in his head, wishing he’d further expand.

“You have… pictures of the same flower on your walls. It’s on your phone case. And you have a necklace with it. Why obsess over one kind of flower?”

Oh!

Realization struck and you shifted, a grin playing at your lips. He reprimanded you sharply and you fixed the positioning of your head so that your chin was elevated once more. You felt… oddly giddy that he picked up on something about you.

“I like peonies,” you said. “Collected a couple of things with them on it. Now, it’s an easy gift whenever a friend gets me a present. I like what they stand for.”

“Stand for?”

“Flowers have meanings,” you said.

He waited but you didn't offer any more explanation. Having fallen so low as to have asked about the flower, All Might was adamant in not exploring the topic any further.

Your head returned to its resting position and you waited to hear what he wanted you to do next.

His hands were resting on your shoulders and you pictured him reaching up and just snapping your neck.

A villainous response to all your lamenting.

Instead of moving or pushing, his fingers pressed down, thumbs digging into your flesh.

Oh god, maybe he really was going to--

He was squeezing and rolling the flesh of your shoulders -- a massage, you recognized instantly. It was an uncomfortable gesture and the immediate reaction was to tense up and wiggle away.

Until he connected with something near the base of your neck that made your shoulders droop toward the floor and your head fall forward.

“You neck is a mess,” he snapped, bearing down with additional pressure for good measure. But you didn’t react as it actually felt pretty damn good and was not a punishment like he had hoped.

He eased up.

“Hm,” was your reaction.

The sound was a poorly disguised groan. Knowing you couldn’t see him, the corner of his mouth pulled up in a small smirk.

That’s what he wanted to hear from you — those little whimpers of pleasure.

“You’re going to end up an old woman who can’t stand straight,” he continued. He moved his attentions closer to the back of your neck and you inhaled deeply at the magic he was working.

“I know,” you sighed, voice thick with ease. “You told me already.”

He didn’t say anything else after that and your giddy energy grew. He was being… downright likable in the moment. Being helpful while not being overly belittling. There was still unease that he had an ulterior motive, but you weren’t so opposed to his presence anymore.

He hit another knot in your back and you sunk further down and into him, eyes fluttering closed.

“Why do you know all this?” you murmured.

“Know all what?”

“The stretching and… you’re very good a massages.”

You were honest in your praise and you heard him indulge in a deep-chest chuckle at your words, his ego growing.

But he fell quiet and didn’t answer right away. Believing he just didn’t want to entertain the inquiry with a response, your mind drifted off -- teetering on a wonderful level of blissful blankness -- when his voice rolled across your mind.

“They’re techniques I learned from my master.”

You were pulled back to reality, eyes opening.

He was still massaging your neck and shoulders, unaware the admittance of such a normal fact had floored you. You rolled your tongue in your mouth.

He had a master?

He wasn't an unnaturally born catastrophe?

Hell, All Might being born was an odd thought.

He was someone’s child.

“You had a master?” you asked, attempting to retain slow easiness.

All Might made a low grumble of acknowledgment and you wondered if he himself had been lulled into a state of relaxation.

You wanted to ask him questions, to pry and start to see him more as a person. But it was such a nice moment and selfishly you didn’t want it end. And you knew prodding him for information would likely sour his mood.

Was it so wrong that you liked him being so nice to you? Gentle. Without dropping demeaning demands or teasing names?

Was it wrong you enjoyed feeling... good?

You buried the questions about his past, deciding not to risk sullying what was happening.

The enraged bull had been soothed.

The great villain All Might, the symbol of discord, was at ease.

… Maybe… maybe you didn’t hate him as much as you thought.

“You know, if you throw in a massage every time you come around I might be excited to see you.”

His hands hesitated at your joke and you waited to see if it landed.

A rumbling, rolling laugh. All Might angled closer to the top of your head and you could feel his grin without even seeing it.

“I’d have to touch you, though. And I have a feeling next time I see you, you’ll be a red-faced blabbering mess, bitching about your mistakes.”

You blushed and shifted your hand to rub at your nose. 

“Not with stuff like this,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a shamed whisper. “Anything more… that’s when there are regrets.”

“You always seem to like it in the moment. Believe me kitten, I know you’ve enjoyed yourself.”

You were worried about the topic -- his voice had taken on that teasing tone that you had come to associate as an almost-bedroom voice. You heart twisted and you seriously hoped he wasn’t going to try and pivot down that route.

“Well… I always thought I'd being doing stuff like that with someone…“ You already hated how you sounded but still managed to tack on the word ‘special’ as you groaned at your lameness.

All Might’s movements eased and you felt him pull back from the top of your head, settling his back against the wall once more.

But he didn’t stop his hands completely.

“Special…” he repeated to himself, letting it roll across his tongue. “Were you saving yourself, girl?”

You sighed.

“No, it wasn’t like that. I don’t know. It’s more like… I don’t know.”

You worked to articulate what you’ve thought about many times before. The subject was an uncomfortable one but part of you wanted him to know.

Maybe then he’d understand.

”I’ve dated, but nothing ever went further than touching. I don’t… really have an answer for why not. It just hasn’t happened.”

He was still digesting your words when you spoke up again.

“And then you showed up.”

“I never took anything from you,” he said almost warningly, unsure how to take your words. You shrugged, his hands following the movements of your shoulders.

“I didn’t say you did. Maybe I just had a thing for bad boys I didn’t know about--” he gave a soft snort of laughter at that “-- but that’s why I’m so...“

You didn’t have a word to use, so you flipped your palms up and down.

“So it is shame,” he said. You screwed your mouth up but didn’t say anything -- it was true.

The conversation fell into a lull. You noticed you were leaning back more against him, almost touching his chest. His hands weren’t really gripping and massaging anymore.

It was more of a rubbing motion.

Only the warm yellow light of a lamp kept your bedroom illuminated. The sky was solidly dark, you noted as your glanced out the window. There were no stars visible, the light pollution of the city too great.

The moon was out a view.

There was a forgotten sock under your bed, you noticed, gaze traveling the room.

Another question was nipping at your mind.

“Why do you keep coming around?” you finally asked, throwing caution to the wind.

All Might kept quiet.

“I do act crazy around you. You get to see all my mood swings. Hell, you even saw what I look like when I don’t shower for a couple of days. The great All Might would put up with all that mess just so he could bang a virgin?”

“Partially,” he said without as much hesitation as you had hoped. The quickness of the response hurt, but his word choice was curious, so you waited before getting too heartbroken. “You do have your… moments .”

“Oh?”

You perked up, eager to hear what they were. It was intoxicating, being complimented.

All Might pushed you forward, rubbing hands turning to fists as he pressed and dug into your back. You winced but apparently you had knots there too -- you acquiesced to his hands as he continued to unravel you, returning you to limpness.

He didn’t expand on his thoughts about you.

“There is one thing that really bothers me,” you said and All Might snorted, growing bored with the conversation. You stopped your sentence but you were fairly certain you were having as much of a heart-to-heart as you could with someone like him. It was the best time to bring it up. “You always leave so… suddenly.”

“I’m a busy man.”

You pursed your lips. The answer was knee-jerk.

“I’m going to end up with a complex,” you complained, a pout to your voice.

He breathed a quick laugh through his nose.

“It’s almost certain you already have a couple.”

“Asshole.”

“You call me an asshole a lot,” he remarked, a slight pain radiating in your back as pushed a little harder. You assumed it was on purpose. “Are you fixated on my asshole, sweetheart? If you want to see it, just say the word.”

You grumbled and went to pull away, annoyed at his crude joke, but he was laughing. His hands returned to your shoulders to keep you in place.

“You fishing for spooning after screwing?” You hated that line even more. “Well I was planning on sticking around last time but you threw a wrench in those plans.”

“I did?” 

“With that little trick you pulled with your quirk. Which reminds me, there will be some… retribution for that. When the time comes.”

“You told me to do it the first time!” you retorted, going so far as to cross your arms. He leaned down.

“That’s right, sweetheart, I told you to do it that first time. You took matters into your own hands after that.”

“Oh, so what, you're going to give me commands? That's your game?”

“You can do whatever you want,” he was borderline purring. “But some of your actions will have consequences. I do like doling out justice — it’s my chance to act the hero.”

You gave a loud, bitter breath and tilted your back to catch a glimpse of his face. He looked smug.

It had been so… peaceful moments ago. You turned back, staring at your wiggling toes.

Seriously, if only your quirk could rewind time a bit more.

So you could relive the good bits in life.

All Might’s arms snaked around your shoulders, carefully intertwining and pulling your back against his chest. His head was against the wall -- he was staring at the bundle of dried flowers you had hanging by your bed.

“You said a lot of things tonight,” His voice was echoing in his chest, you could feel the vibrations. “Bitched a lot too. But you never said you wanted me to stop coming around.”

That wasn’t… untrue.

It was your turn to remain silent, refusing to acknowledge the statement and trying to ignore the stupid happiness you felt at being held close to someone.

You hadn’t been held like that before.

All Might snorted a laugh, reminding you that he had poised a question. To him, your lack of response was an answer enough.

“What, I’m the special person?”

You groaned loudly, grumbling and wiggling as his laughter deepened.

Enticing reverberations. He noticed you draw a little closer to him. In response, he tightened his hold.

“You could have picked worse,” he teased. “You should feel… honored that I’m putting in the time. A lot of men and women clamor after me, you know. I can show you the websites.”

You sucked at your teeth, unwilling to admit you had seen the websites he was undoubtedly referencing.

His movements stilled as he drifted off into quiet thought.

His thumb started lightly stroking your skin.

It was such an affectionate gesture that you froze, afraid he would somehow pick up on what he was doing and would snatch it away from you.

“You need to stop acting crazy, though.” There was a sternness to his tone that, for some very odd reason, made your throat clench up. As if you were being scolded by an authority figure for doing wrong. But you hadn’t done wrong! “You’re the only one throwing around the word whore, kitten.”

It wasn’t a true compliment but the meaning was clear. He didn’t think you were a whore. 

A smile weaseled out that you attempted to hide by chewing your bottom lip -- not that it mattered, All Might couldn’t see it. With a sigh you thumped your head against him, a warm smugness in your chest, and you gazed up with a raised brow. He was still looking off into the distance but his usual grin was tugging at his mouth.

He was still watching you.

“I’ll work on it,” you said after some thought. “Tonight was… enlightening. It’s cleared up some things for me. Like, I need to control my impulses a little bit better.”

Well, that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

Shadowed eyes met yours and he frowned. He wanted the opposite.

“No more thank you blowjobs,” you said. “And I’ll have to politely decline strangers who want to give me oral right after meeting me.”

His frown deepened and you reached up, genially tapping his cheek.

“I think this was a very good talk,” you added, teasingly sweet. Your voice said you were joking but he wasn’t sure if that was true, not after your episode earlier. “And tonight you learned that you can’t run out on a woman. A little… affection can go a long way.”

Before he could do or say anything else, you were tugging at his arms, trying to get him to release you. Eventually he relented, watching as you crawled away and stood. You rolled your neck, genuinely smiling at the looseness you felt under your skin.

“Tea?” you asked, eyes dancing with delight. A second passed before a small smirk appeared on his lips. He gave a slight nod, standing and following you out of the room.

After casting one look at the flimsy wooden chairs in your kitchen, All Might opted to stand as you went through the motions of brewing tea for your guest, like a proper hostess. All you had to offer was green tea. And the only tea snack you had on hand was a half-eaten bag of cookies, which he firmly declined.

The sight struck you as odd, seeing All Might gripping such a small cup of tea when you handed it off to him.

You could picture him guzzling alcohol with ease. Hell, even a can of oil.

But tea?

It was just another bullet to add to the list of things that made you see the villain in a new light. It was a list you had only started curating a little more than an hour ago, when he first appeared on your doorstep.

Speaking of which--

“Why’d you knock on my door?” you asked him, watching as he gingerly blew at his drink. He looked at you over the steam. “Normally you just appear. I assume by climbing through a window.”

“Your windows were locked.”

“Oh, so you tried the windows before you went to the door?”

He glowered.

At least he didn’t break in while you were naked in the tub.

The night would have probably gone a lot differently.

Placing your cup down, you shimmied up to sit on the kitchen counter, wincing at the residual soreness that still plagued your arms. All Might was still watching you. You gave him an odd look.

“What?”

His jaw was moving, you could see the way it made his neck writhe. You stopped reaching for your cup -- you had already learned what that response meant. He was working to refrain from doing something.

Was the fact he was holding back a good or bad thing? Impulses and libido told you that was a bad thing -- hell, one normal conversation to talk about your feelings? Apparently you were ready to go after that.

But your mind said otherwise.

With sick curiosity, you silently waited to see what he would do. 

The first thing he did was down his tea like a shot -- that was a worrying as the liquid had to have been too hot to do that. You could almost feel the scalding of his tongue and throat.

“I’ll be in the area in a few days,” he said, setting the cup back on the table with a little too much force. “Maybe I’ll swing by if I have the time.”

“I might be at my lab,” you said, retaining an a faux air of nonchalance. “I’ve been commissioned by another client and will start working on his project soon. I’ll be working late nights again.”

Though he was only half-listening, All Might was nodding along.

“Do those stretches we did after your classes. And soak if you end up with more bruises.”

“Yes, sir.”

He glared at your response. And, like all those times before, you didn’t think the look was based in anger. With a gruff sound, he turned to leave your kitchen.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was being purposefully respectful.

He was actually taking what you said to heart.

For one brief moment, the desires of your emotions and mind aligned. Rather than trail after him like the puppy you felt you’d been reduced to, you called forth your quirk and watched as he stood, giving you a gruff sound before turning to--

He stopped, looking up at you accusingly.

“You playing tricks again?” he growled.

You smiled.

It was radiant enough that his frown fell off his face and he stared back with tempted suspicion.

“I respond surprisingly well to niceness,” you said. “And you were very nice tonight. That deserves a small amount of recognition.”

You stressed the word small, hoping he’d catch on.

Of course he did. 

So you were back to wanting him?

He didn’t launch himself at you. It was a slow almost-saunter toward where you sat, a devilish smirk unfurling as he drew closer to your shaking head.

A hand rested on your thigh, he was gripping and rolling the fat of it in his palm. You closed your eyes, lifting your head, waiting for his mouth to crash into yours—

There was a pressure on your forehead.

“Don’t get too confident, kitten.” His hot breath puffed against your ear. “Remember who I am.”

Despite yourself, your body shivered.

His back was to you when you opened your eyes, already walking away and ending the encounter on his terms. Like always.

As he ducked and turned out of the doorway, a flash of a wonderfully blue iris caught your eye.

As did his arrogant smile.

A second later, a closing door.

You laughed through your nose, placing your hands on your glowing cheeks before smacking them lightly. It was high school, the way you felt. Reaching for your cup, you gazed like a buffoon at the empty doorway.

You had to give him credit -- All Might knew how to leave an impression.

Chapter Text

“Let’s hang out!”

One simple text sent your group chat into a frenzy.

You were in your lab, forehead pressed against your worktable as you attempted to think through a creative block, when you heard the rhythmic vibrations of your cell phone. You didn’t think much of it until it exploded with notifications less than a minute later.

Your heart soared after you checked it, joining in on the variations of excited yeses.

It had been too long since you had a proper night out with friends. Too long since you communicated in ways other than texting and social media. All it felt like you had time for were quick sit-downs with individuals, not a group gathering.

People were busy, they had lives and jobs and responsibilities. It was also harder to meet up with friends as an adult: some worked odd hours, some had moved, others were just so run down that, by the time the weekend hit, all they wanted to do was sit with their feet up and take a mental break. Making the commitment to go out was hard. Interacting with people was harder.

You watched chat bubbles shift from strings of emojis to attempting to select a night that worked with everyone’s schedule.

Something happens when you enter the world of adulthood. Life simultaneously slows down and speeds up. It’s easy to fall into a habit of waking up, going to work, coming home, decompressing, going to bed and then starting the process over in the morning. Days drag by.

Then, one day, you check your calendar only to discover half a year had somehow passed.

If only you could go back to the simplicity of being a teenager. When life just revolved around school, part-time work and friends.

After a serious back and forth between the two over-planners of the group, the day was selected. You went so far as to add it to your calendar, though there was no way you were going to forget it.

You had something to look forward to!

The big night was not the only thing on your mind as the days passed. The face of a certain blond hell demon was there as well, a lingering shadow in almost every thought.

… It wasn’t a bad shadow.

He liked you, that much was easy to surmise. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t visit you -- that was the simple truth of it. But the depth of his feelings were tripping you up. Was this just a schoolyard crush? An inflamed passion that would fizzle with time? Lust? Anything beyond that you were too afraid to consider.

And you heeded his ‘suggestion’ of not falling into another emotional well. Or at least tried to. There were still times you’d catch a glimpse of your life from a distance, as an outsider looking in, and want to throttle some sense back into you. But those episodes were becoming less frequent. What eased your mind was knowing only two people had knowledge of your degeneracy -- you and a villain who disappeared off the face of the earth between meetings.

You wondered if he’d even consider a normal interval between visits as opposed to the infrequent drop-ins he had taken a shining to. It would make your life considerably easier knowing the next time All Might planned on showing himself.

“You’re thinking about something.”

You winced at your friend’s accusation while you watched her walk to the mirror. She didn’t press the subject -- her outfit selection was her primary concern. It was not a slamdunk dress, you could tell by her face. Her hand pressed against her stomach.

“I like the color,” you offered. “And the fit.”

She hemmed.

“The other dress was better,” she said, looking at her selection from the side before facing you for final thoughts.

“Ah, the black one,” you said with a laugh. “We’re going to go out looking like we just came from a funeral. You know most of us are just going to be wearing black.”

“No, Minori will wear something bright.” She stepped back to the dressing room, leaving you alone on the bench staring at the clothing you had hung over your arms. “So what are you thinking about, anyway?” she called from behind the closed door. You glanced around the room -- you were the only ones inside.

“Hm?” you called back, hoping she’d believe her voice was muffled and hard to hear.

“Your face is all screwed up, something is bothering you. It isn’t work, is it?”

You held your tongue.

Yume was the only one of your friends to seriously doubt your claim that you worked at a support lab startup created by an unknown scientist. Partly because she was in the industry and knew all the ins and outs of it. Startups just don’t spring up. Only established names branched out to create their own labs, as they were the only ones who could secure the capital needed. They usually brought their teams with them. But at some point, she had stopped prying and had quietly let you continue on with your lie.

Your best friend was essentially who you had dreamed about being -- a successful scientist working with all the top hero agencies, meeting the greats on a daily basis. It wasn’t uncommon for her to casually drop that she was jetting off to Korea, or the UK, or the United States for business trips. Her social media accounts were filled with smiling press photos standing next to the top minds, and heroes, of the world.

She was the golden child.

“No, work is going good. We’re in a bit of a slow-down now,” you called back. “Nothing too bad. It’s nice to take a breather.”

“And you’re all set for Korea?”

“Yep, company is paying for it and everything--” That was a lie, you were fronting the cost. “-- Can’t wait. It’ll be a mini-vacation!”

“Full of boring lectures,” Yume groaned as she opened the door, relinquishing the dressing room to you. You eagerly snapped the door closed behind you, blanketed in comforting isolation.

Well, partial isolation

“They still have you working weird hours?”

You watched your face react to the question in the mirror as you undressed.

“What can I say, our team is a bunch of night owls. Once we go public we’ll probably move to regular hours.”

“Have you signed any major heroes yet?”

“Nope, still just focusing on research.”

“For two years?” Yume said, the disbelief evident. You frowned, shaking away the negativity from your face and body before opening the door and shrugging nonchalantly.

“Different labs do different things, Yum. I believe in the stuff we’re doing so I’m going to stick around.”

“There’s just something fishy about it.” She was concerned but carefully avoided coming off as overly matronly. “Maybe you should look into a job at a more established place?”

You ignored her suggestion and stood in the mirror, frowning at the jumpsuit you had picked out.

It did not look as good as you had hoped.

“I thought you said only models look good in jumpsuits?” Yume said with a sardonic smile. You sighed.

“A girl can dream, can’t she?”

When the dressing room door closed behind you again, you hoped it would clean the slate of your conversation.

You were not that lucky.

“You know, I’ve been thinking…” a voice drifted from the other side of the door after a bit of a reprieve. You rolled your eyes at yourself in the mirror as you hung up the jumpsuit before reaching for the next contender.

“Should I be worried?”

“The opposite, maybe. You know I got promoted a few months back to a team lead, right?” she paused. “Well my old team has an opening--”

You froze.

“--And I was thinking about floating your name into consideration.”

Your heart flew into your chest as you stared down at your socks, eyes wide.

“It’s nothing set in stone. It’s all at the discretion of their lead. But it doesn’t hurt to try!”

You opened the door. Yume met your gaze.

“Really?” you asked, voice full of muted excitement. She was smiling but playing coy.

“Like I said, don’t go getting your hopes up. Their lead is… difficult. But you’ll get to work in an  actual lab again and not some shady operation.”

An actual lab. Again! With a salary, benefits, vacation days, paid time off…

“I don’t know.”

Truthfully, you were worried about how you would disguise your current working ‘situation’ in a resume without being caught. You’d have to call in some favors to create a believable lie. You would also have to kiss your freedom goodbye -- you’d be confined to working regular hours once more instead of the night owl lifestyle you had embraced.

Not to mention you weren't sure if you wanted to shutter the undertaking you had diligently developed.

“You’re smart,” she said, interrupting your thoughts. “The stuff you come up with is exceptional. I wouldn’t bring it up if I didn’t believe in you.”

Yume was your best friend. A close connection you had clung to since elementary school. You had been through the ringer together: weathered annoying teenage fights, outlasted each of the ‘love of my life’ relationships you both had, danced through the best times and trudged through the worst. When she rocketed ahead in life, leaving you in perceived stagnation, you cheered her on as earnestly and enthusiastically as only a friend could -- while harboring resentment.

“Just think about it,” she was saying, sitting deeper in the bench. “I think you’re selling yourself short where you're at, that’s all.”

You momentarily questioned her mild savior attitude but she was beaming, gesturing for you to spin.

“Niiice,” she sang while you sashayed to the mirror. It was just a black skater dress -- no embellishments other than it being long-sleeved with a bit of an extended neckline. But it fit nicely. And it wasn’t expensive.

Ah, what the hell.

You both walked out of the store twenty minutes later with purchases in hand. It was still summer and warm but the days were getting shorter. Yume hid a yawn behind her hand as she checked the time on her phone.

“Well, I better go before I miss the train.” She paused, squinting at you. You didn't like the look and fidgeted with the bag around your wrist. “Think about what I said, okay? Put a resume together. Send me some work examples. You gotta start thinking more long term. I want you to blossom, my flower child.”

“I’ll think about it,” you responded.

That wasn’t the end of the conversation. She playful smacked your shoulder but her eyes and face were full of seriousness.

“There’s nothing to think about.”

You were going to Roppongi. As most of your friends had moved to the Tokyo metro area, the district choice was accepted readily -- it was known for its busy nightlife. But it would be a bit of a train ride for you, at least an hour. It felt as if you only had two options: leave early so that you would get back to Kamino safely and before the trains stopped, or not go and send your regrets.

Before you could explain your predicament, you received a separate text from your bright-eyed friend Minori who offered you a couch to sleep on. It warmed your heart knowing the girl thought of you and, after she replied to your tentative rejection with a series of heart-filled insistences, you acquiesced.

That Saturday, just after dinner, you arrived at Minori’s apartment, overnight bag in hand. As expected, the girl was running late. She opened the door with huried delight, hair still pinned back and face blank with foundation. You swelled with immodest delight when she clapped her hands and cooed how good you looked -- hell, you felt good. You had paired the dress with black tights, wedge booties and your signature peony necklace. It was an outfit worthy of a night out.

“I’m running late!” Minori called as she ran back to her bedroom, leaving you to carefully step over the mess of shoes she had been piled by her door, so you could remove your own.

“I can tell!”

Minori was good-natured, positive, kind, an airhead and a mess -- which is why you got along with her so well. She was a kindred spirit, someone else who was stumbling through life just as you were. Sure, her constant lateness was infuriating, but she meant well. She was one of those people who, when they admitted they lost track of time, you knew weren't creating an excuse. She honestly did lose track of time.

An hour after you were supposed to meet the rest of your friends, you and Minori were on your way, chatting and catching up with your lives. She worked as an executive assistant (you honestly didn’t know how she could perform such a job and not be fired) and was full of workday stories you found endearing. She was also eager to show off her newest purchase -- a phone case that was also a Polaroid printer.

“You take a picture on your phone and it’ll print out little copies of it!” she explained with such enthusiasm that you didn’t have the heart to tell her you already knew all about them.

Muffling a yawn (No! It was too early to be tired!), you glanced around the train while your traveling companion answered continued messages from your group wondering where you were. At least she was taking full responsibility for the lateness.

It was during your brief scan of the traincar that your eyes met a stranger’s -- you kept your gaze traveling so not to make it seem like you were staring at him. His appearance was almost ghastly and, now that you were introduced to his existence, you also became aware that he also staring. At you.

Eventually, out of the corner of your eye, you watched him shift his head sharply away, as if he realized what he had been doing. You took the opportunity to get another glimpse of him -- his actions (and appearance) were giving you the heebie jeebies and you were concerned he was some train groper sussing out his next target. You’d want to be able to give a description if he tried anything… funny .

He was… strange. A patchwork of physical flaws that had combined together to create a person. His tallness struck you first, simply because he was sitting beside an average-looking man. He was a towering figure, with knobby knees spread out slightly as he sat, hands nestled between them.

He was also skinny. It was hard to tell from his body, the clothes he was wearing were several times too big, but you could see it in his face with the sharp jawline and hollow cheekbones. It was as if someone had stretched him out, pulling his body to make him taller without adding any girth to his form.

Blue eyes.

You internally cursed and it was your turn to snap your head away -- you'd been caught. After that, he was back to gawking at you with a vengeance.

You reached for your phone, pretending he was not on your mind, mentally thumbing through the ameatur krav maga moves you had added to your arsenal, trying to figure out how you’d handle the man if he came at you with wandering hands.

To your delight, as the train slowed in arrival at the next station, Minori stood and gestured for you to follow.

“This is our stop!” she chirped.

Delight quickly turned to dismay, however, when she passed by the potential groper to wait for the doors to open. You followed, eyes fixed on the back of her head. A collection of people had formed at the doors, a sizable amount of the train car's passengers leaving. The stranger stayed seated but you were standing adjacent to where he was.

Nothing happened.

You stood as unassuming as you could, staring ahead and, seconds later, the door opened to release the mob. You relaxed when you stepped onto the platform, following after a slightly-jogging Minori, thankful you were just overacting. Poor guy was probably a normal dude just trying to get home and you were judging him.

The man was banished from your mind entirely the moment you stepped out onto the sidewalk and your heart squeezed with minor excitement. It felt like a night out. A quick walk later you were entering the bar, waving as a table in the back erupted into cheers.

“Fashionably late,” someone snapped playfully as Minori started her apologies. You were beyond caring about that -- you were grinning like a fool and acting like the prime minister as you greeted everyone. There were six already seated at the table, including Yume, who you playfully elbowed.

You ended up stealing a seat beside a blonde woman who was already nursing a pretty healthy glow from her drinks.

“I didn’t think heroes took days off,” you teased, watching Tsuchikawa roll her eyes.

“Please. I need a break otherwise I’ll get stress wrinkles,” she passed a light hand over her cheek as if she was acting out some sort of beauty commercial. “How you’ve been, slacker?”

“Slacker!?” you put an offended hand over your heart. “I’ll have you know I’ve been working diligently and paying my bills relatively on time!” You eased, nodding your head in thanks when a menu was thrust your way. “I’ve been really good actually. Aside from… um, normal work stress, things have been nice. What about you? How are the pussycats treating you?”

Tsuchikawa, who also went by the moniker Pixie-Bob, had taken on a similar face of contentment.

“Nice. We rescued a hiker last weekend after she slipped off an overhang and broke a few bones. Missing for fourteen hours, we found her in three!”

“Just another day for Pussycat Rescue Heroes!” another friend, Reina, declared from her seat at the end of the table.

“Wild, Wild Pussycats,” Tsuchikawa corrected. “It took way us too long to agree on the name not to use it!”

When your cocktail was finally placed in front of you, the night began in earnest.

There were some who didn’t drink and sat back, watching the group get progressively rowdier as the empty glasses collected on the table. You would just have to add excessive drinking to your list of recent bad behavior -- you were excited and you were overeager! You liked being sociable. Especially when you were drinking.

Tsuchikawa, your new best friend for the evening, was watching you attentively as you acted out a chokehold move you had learned in your krav maga class. Sure she was a hero, but you had been taking the class for a few weeks now and your drunk-self was very confident in your abilities to not only disarm an opponent but potentially kill them.

You held a new power in your hands.

Then, like only a drunken conversation could progress, you were patting a dejected Tsuchikawa who was lamenting about her love life and lack of a husband.

“I’m no longer a young maiden,” she sighed, staring at the palm of her hand as she held it in front of her. “I’ve entered the winter of my life.”

“That’s not true,” you were staring at her, desperately trying to convey all the love and support you had for her. “You’re young and so pretty. You’ll get married to a hot guy and have sixteen children.”

“I should go to a shrine,” she said, sitting up. “Write it out. Get a charm.”

“That’s it,” you grabbed for your drink. “You gotta, you gotta, put what you want into the universe to make it happen. You know. The idea…” you furrowed your brows. “You know when you like wish for something by shouting it and then the universe makes it happen?”

“Projection,” came a helpful voice.

“That’s it!” you snapped your fingers excitedly in the direction of your eavesdropper. “Project it. All that magic mumbo jumbo.”

“Yeah, that’s what Tomoko said too. But I don’t want to wait . It’d be nice if it just happened already. Have a nice husband drop in my lap.”

“Hey,” Minori was leaning over. “Men suck.”

You erupted into loud laughter at the seriousness of her face and voice. That seemed to snap Tsuchikawa out of her depressive tailspin -- she sat up and was fixing you with a wolfish look.

“What about you? Seeing anyone?”

“Not really,” you said airly, grabbing for your drink again. You knew the question was bound to come up at some point. Save for two friends, none of you were in serious or committed relationships. It was a frequent conversation topic. So you practiced trying to be unassuming. Tsuchikawa pouted and accepted the answer while Minori fixed you with a penetrating stare.

“Are you dating someone?” she asked, stoically watching your face. You furrowed your brows and pushed away from her.

“No!” you said. Her eyes narrowed.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying!” you said too-loud. “What? Did you become some kind of lie detector or something?”

“Actually,” she instantly eased up, sitting back and returning to her smiling self. “There’s this new show I’ve been watching about a guy who solves crimes because he can tell when people are lying. He talks about what all the signs are, so I’ve been trying it out!”

Tsuchikawa eagerly scooted forward, asking for the details on what to look for, while you let out a breath of relief that you were no longer in the hot seat.

Besides, it wasn’t a lie. You weren’t dating anyone.

The gathering was starting to really pick up when a few of your crew stood to call it a night. They had places to be, plans for the morning or were just sick of hanging out with a bunch of drunks. You stood and hugged everyone, letting them know they were appreciated.

Most gave you a pat or two on the back.

“So, what’s the plan,” Tsuchikawa was saying, eyeing you and Minori as you were the only ones who were on the same wavelength as her. “You aren’t ready to leave, right?”

You wanted to say no, but looked to Minori for confirmation as it was her house you were staying at.

“No!” she scoffed and you echoed her look.

“The night is still young. We’re still young,” you said, placing a hand on Tsuchikawa’s shoulder.

She let out a deep sigh before meeting your eyes and nodding her head, face full of heroic determination.

“What are you guys planning?” Yume asked, sliding down the empty seats to further condense the group. You looked around -- it hadn’t been just a few who had called it a night. You four were the only ones left.

“Another bar…?” Minori said, unsure and looking around as she spoke to see if the idea would land. It did -- Tsuchikawa nodded her head enthusiastically.

“Yes, another bar!”

After the final bill was tallied up and paid, your group headed out into the night. It was alive -- Roppongi held up to its reputation as the nightlife district of Tokyo. The sidewalks were mobbed, thumping beats from unknown clubs filled the air, promoters were out in force trying to drum up attention to their bars. You accepted a flyer from a girl either dressed as a mouse or had a mouse quirk, you couldn’t tell -- it was for a burlesque show. 

“I know a place we can go to,” Minori declared. You believed her.

Taking her role as troop leader seriously, she directed you down a series of streets, all while flipping through pictures of the night, trying to determine which ones were worth printing out. At some point, the crowded sidewalk seemed to become more populated than expected but Minori still pushed through. Once you shoved your way through the crowd, you understood why everyone was on that street.

“Endeavor!”

The number one hero ignored the fanatical cry from the unknown man, more interested in the conversation he was having with the police officer in front of him.

“Oh, Endeavor is here,” Yume said when she popped out of the crowd behind you. Tsuchikawa scoffed.

Though he was the undisputed number one hero, he was very polarizing. Just as readily as he radiated heat, he gave off power . Not many stood in the same league as him, though there was no shortage of heroes who tried. Some even wanted to topple him.

He exuded greatness but that came at a price -- the man was untouchable in the public sense too. There was no fan service with him, no scenes that would give you the (figurative) warm fuzzies. He had a job to do and was going to do it. That was that. He was a hero but he wasn’t very… heroic .

“Endeavor!”

With a sigh the flame hero turned toward the crowd as the officer he had been dealing with walked away.

Then he was lumbering toward those gathered.

“Aww,” Minori muttered, facing the group, unaware of the approaching hero behind her. “It looks like they blocked off this street. We might have to take the long way--”

“You guys want a picture with Endeavor?” Yume asked. Tsuchikawa was aghast and Minori looked to where he had been standing, only noticing then he was a stone's throw away from her. She froze.

“Oh no,” she said, losing her bubbly charm. “Oh no, I wouldn’t ask him for a picture. He’ll take my head off.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Yume said, waving away the fear. “The man is the number one hero because he has fans. He has to do fan service if he wants to stay on top. Here, I’ll bring him over--”

In amazement you watched Yume step forward, completely at ease and confident in only a way she could pull off effortlessly. Endeavor turned toward the woman who was waving him over and Minori froze, watching mouth agape as the flaming man stood amongst them.

“Can we get a picture, Endeavor?” Yume was asking, holding up her phone. He looked over the collection of red-faced women -- drunks -- before nodding.

It wasn’t a big to-do, Yume’s phone was handed to a bystander who took a couple of group shots of you standing with the number one hero before handing the device back. Still your spokesman, Yume thanked him with respectful bows and a few words of praise before he waded off to deal with more fans. She grinned when the encounter ended, flipping through the pictures and showing them off.

“And we look good too,” she said. “No eyes closed or anything. I’m gonna post it.”

“Send it to me!” Minori squealed, life returning to her. “I’ll print us all out copies!”

“Can we please go to the bar?” Tsuchikawa grumbled. You looked at her before giving her a slight nudge.

“Not a fan?” you murmured. She rolled her eyes.

“I like heroes who aren’t assholes.”

You peeked to where Endeavor stood, slightly worried he would be able to hear Tsuchikawa’s comment. He didn’t react, he was staring down a man who had held out his arm for an autograph.

“Alright, alright,” Yume said. “Let’s go!”

It took a bit of time to retrace your footsteps away from the mass of people. Although alcohol had warmed your system, by then an uncomfortable burning sensation was rising from the soles of your feet. You were walking with a slight limp and there was an undeniable blister forming at your heel.

“Here’s your copy!” A small, rectangular image was thrust into your chest by Minori, who had printed out her first photos of the night. “That’s one for the refrigerator!”

A chuckled escaped as you looked it over, even Tsuchikawa had forced a smile (she was a hero after all and they were conscious of keeping appearances). You tucked it away safely in your purse, sandwiching it in a pocket so it wouldn’t be bent or scuffed.

“So this bar I'm taking us to...” Minori had started up again, chattering about how their destination used dry ice in some of the drinks or set fire to them to ‘enhance the flavors.’ You caught Yume’s eye -- it seemed more like a gimmick. But you both kept quiet, nodding and smiling as she excitedly brought up pictures from the last time she went.

“They have this tequila shot they put inside a carved-out lime,” she was saying, slowing her pace as she swiped to find the drink she knew she had captured. "That way you don’t have to--"

You heard the blast before you felt it.

It was a hard sound to describe: a sonic boom, maybe. Or like a dozen airplanes taking off at the same time.

But then the sound was gone and you saw it, trailing after.

The wind.

It was as if you had driven right into a wall. A solid force struck your body sending you flying backward, limbs and body whipping around as you were tossed through through the air like a ragdoll, caught in the vortex of energy. You couldn’t see much, other than a spinning world, and the only sound you heard was the rushing of air around your ears.

Eventually the wind continued down the street. It released the hold it had on you, leaving you limp and bruised in its wake, curled around a lamppost. There were other people hurt around you -- sounds other than wind were starting to break through.

Screams.

You groaned, moving a battered body that yelled with resistance. But you couldn’t stay where you were. It wasn’t safe .

You opened your eyes then, pushing away from the metal pole, realizing you were trying to catch the breath that had been knocked out of you. Tentatively you moved body parts as you looked around -- it was if a bomb had gone off. Cars were scattered around you, broken glass from hundreds of shattered windows painted the ground.

And the people.

Dozens. Hundreds? Just like you, in a stupor looking around, trying to understand, comprehend, how and why their world had been knocked askew.

You tried standing, groaning again when legs protested, but you managed to right yourself. You were on your feet at least--

Blood.

You noticed the crimson leaking from the dozens of scrapes and cuts littering your body. Your stockings were in tatters, the skin of your legs angry with road rash. Afraid, you touched your face, but everything seemed to be in one piece.

You didn’t know what to do. There were so many people around you. So many hurt.

Laughing had started. You looked around, suddenly lucid, ready to berate whatever fool had decided the moment was funny. People were hurt! But the sound was echoing from the broken buildings, capturing everyone in an embrace of dread.

Wait.

You knew that laugh.

Of course.

You looked, but you couldn’t see him.

His laugh was still circling around you, though. Your eyes were scanning the building tops and sky--

“Are you okay!?”

Hands grasped your shoulders, shaking your body wildly and pulling you out of your daze. You were blinking, blue eyes staring into yours. A hand to the face further cleared your head.

“Are you okay?” Tsuchikawa repeated and you blinked, nodding as you fully welcomed reality.

“Yeah. Yeah,” you pushed back, looking her over. “How about you ?”

It wasn’t the time for playing catch-up, however. Her eyes were darting between the injured that littered the street. She was on edge. You both jumped when you heard an explosion, turning to see a stream of fire shoot into the air. Tsuchikawa grit her teeth.

“Those two are going to go at it here? ” she hissed. “I’ve got to go help the injured. Just… get away . I already found Minori and she’s leaving. I’ll look for Yume but it’s not safe here.”

Another burst of fire accentuated her point. You nodded.

You were not going to stick around and witness a fight between All Might and Endeavor.

“Be careful,” you said but she was already bounding off, the changed energy of the night seemingly sweeping away both of your intoxications. Adrenaline was keeping the pain at bay as you hobbled away from where Endeavor and All Might were undoubtedly clashing.

Though self-preservation was at the forefront of your mind, it did not completely blind you to the suffering of others. When the girl in front of you tripped and fell in her heels, you stopped to help her stand. When two people were trying to right a car that had pinned another beneath it, you joined a collection who ran to assist.

The further away you got from where you had been, the more reaction time had been processed since the initial burst had struck that area. The streets were clearing out -- the evacuation of buildings, businesses and apartments were already in motion. The first signs of a real police presence were sprouting up.

Along the way of escape, you had seen people stop to crouch and take a breather. You paid them no mind, assuming they were ultimately alright. But a sobbing figure ahead of you broke your pace, your gaze settled on a familiar black dress and purple bag.

“Yume?” you called, too uncomfortable to jog, but you picked up your slow pace. At hearing her name her crying broke and, upon seeing it was you, she was reaching out.

“You’re okay! ”

“I’m fine. What about you?” you asked, though you took notice of the forearm she hugged gently against her chest. She sniffed, standing.

“I lost track of everyone,” she said, voice brittle and soft. “I just ran I-I--”

“Tsuchikawa has gone full Pixie-Bob. She found me, said she sent Minori ahead to safety. Everyone is fine. We have to keep moving, okay?”

Yume looked at you and nodded. Thankfully, a police officer was waving and jogging over to you, having caught sight of the both of you. You returned his waves. They'd be able to direct you to safety. Hopefully, it was only a broken arm that Yume would--

With horror, you looked in the direction you had come from.

The sound.

There was no time to think, just to move.

Grabbing Yume, and ignoring her desperate gasp of pain, you darted toward the alley directly beside you.

You made it just as the wall passed by. The cyclone of wind further pushed you away from the street and into the alley. If only your quirk was stronger. You might have been able to do something more, but you couldn’t turn back time in its entirety to stop that vortex from hitting you. Had you used it, all you would have done was rewind Yume and your motions back a few seconds while the world continued to explode around you.

Speaking of Yume--

She groaned and you were beside her, tutting and apologizing for your rough grip. She wasn’t answering, her mind and body too rattled with pain at the moment. You gasped, dropping low when a wall of fire passed the entrance of the alley you had taken refuge in.

Their fight had moved.

“Yume,” you were grabbing her arm. “Yum, we’ve gotta go. We can’t stay here.”

Though she didn’t answer, she was listening. Now that the main street was a battlefield, the only other solution you had was to follow the alley down and away.

“Come on,” you were chanting, fear and survival tugging at your brain. You escaped death once already. You were not about to put yourself in that position again. If she wasn’t going to move, hell you would try carrying Yume.

But she was listening, she was moving and hobbling forward, just as desperate as you to get out of the--

A heavy thud.

Dropping from the sky was a figure with glowing eyes, his landing creating a crater of broken concrete, asphalt and earth. Yume froze in front of you but All Might’s attention wasn’t on the alley, he was looking to the sky. Waiting.

Maybe you could sneak away? Hide? This wasn't the place to have a reunion with him, especially with Yume in your company. Quietly you reached out, trying to gently tug your friend back. But she gasped and instantly All Might locked onto her.

Though he was hoping to ambush an increasingly irate Endeavor, he wasn’t going to let an opportunity to strike fear in some unfortunate citizens pass. A sinister laugh erupted from him as he stepped forward, shadow draping over Yume.

“I'm here,” he crooned.

The scientist, wide-eyed at seeing destruction personified in front of her, stepped back. All Might watched her, acknowledging that there was a second huddled figure behind her.

“My, my little doves. You got yourselves trapped in a-- ”

His voice trailed off. His attention had drifted from the first scared girl to the one behind her. The one with a familar face.

Silence engulfed the alley.

Actually, both faces were familiar. It was you. And the other one -- the girl from the coffee shop.

Whether it was intentional or not, he was giving you an opening. You hissed and grabbed Yume again, breaking the paralyzing fear.

“Run!”  you snarled, pushing her.

With death so close, pain was no longer a valid excuse for restricted movements. Like a hare freed from a snare, she was gone, darting out in the openness of the street and leaving you alone with All Might in the alley.

He was still standing silently, you assumed he was surprised to see you in Tokyo. But it was no time to talk. You turned to take your leave before faltering and looking over your shoulder.

“Be careful,” you murmured. Then you were gone, trailing after Yume, unaware if your voice had even been loud enough to be heard.

It had been. All Might had been… caught off guard at seeing you. Especially in such a state -- judging from your torn and bloodied appearance, you had been caught in one of his blasts. But he shoved those personal thoughts away, instead leaping back to the sky, no longer interested in playing a game of hide and seek. He didn’t have to scour the horizon very hard to see a fuming, flaming Endeavor still searching for him. Seeing you had been a minor and momentary setback, but you were gone. Out of sight, out of mind.

Besides, he had been waiting too long to have a little fun with the number one hero and he was not going to let the opportunity pass.

He released a jab in Endeavor’s direction -- the flame hero recognized the attack before it struck him. But the intent was not to hit him, it was to engage his attention once more. With a booming laugh, All Might gave a small wave, darting away as a spiral of fire rocketed toward him.

Some part of you must have been on All Might’s conscious. Though everything in him was dedicated to the fight, he did make certain to lead the hero in the opposite direction he had seen you fleeing in.

That would at least put some buffer between you.

Meanwhile, you were forced to endure another trek through destruction thanks to All Might’s second attack on the area. But the war zone did end and eventually comforting hands were grasping for you, leading you to a makeshift medical area surrounded by on-edge heroes. It would take some time to load ambulances to send the hurt the area's hospitals.

You could see Yume already being treated as you were led away to be sequestered with the rest of people with non-threatening injuries. Even Tsuchikawa was there, still in full Pixie-Bob persona, following the directions of those who had been put in charge. She was sporting a sizable gouge across her cheek but didn’t seem to be any worse for wear.

Before you were released to wait with the others, a medical quirk owner came to do a quick check to make sure there were no underlying, hidden injuries. The last thing they wanted was to release you from the scene only for you to have internal bleeding that was missed. But you were fine, aside from your minor injuries.

As you waited in relative safety to be released to the trains, you watched the people around you. Some were crying, others nervously laughing that they had made it through unscathed -- all the truly injured had been tucked away, the priority on them. There were two people beside you, one was muttering while the other stroked his hair, whispering soothing words.

Somewhere, an anguished wail rose above the quiet mutterings of the mildly shell-shocked people. 

It drifted away.

All Might had caused the destruction you had been caught in.

You had been caught and hurt in the blast. Your friends had been injured. Hell, there may even be a death toll that some unfortunate soul was being forced to address and tallying.

There was no way to mince words. All Might was a villain. There could be no road to redemption for someone like him, someone who could cause so much pain without batting an eye. Besides, he would have to want to change for that storyline to even be considered.

You wondered if, weeks ago, this knowledge would have sent you into another emotional tailspin.

You weren’t a bad person.

You’ve told yourself that a thousand times.

You recycled. You’ve never personally killed or hurt anyone. You worried about sea turtles. You didn’t steal. You didn’t lie.

You weren’t bad.

You were just involved with bad people.

Like All Might.

As you sat among the scared and injured, for once understanding and witnessing what he could inflict on the innocent first-hand, you recognized something about yourself.

You didn’t feel the slightest bit of guilt.

Chapter Text

There were those whose who had built careers analyzing villain/hero encounters. News stations would clamor to book them in the aftermath of major brawls, eager to get filler from an ‘expert’ opinion on what had occurred. It was padding, really, to help fill multiple hours of coverage. They never said anything groundbreaking -- just reiterated facts interlaced with ‘professional opinion.’

You sat on the edge of the waiting room chair, wiggling your body in an attempt to ease the discomfort in your back and butt from having sat stationary for so long. Whatever news channel the hospital had selected was playing their third analyst interview. The bespeckled woman simply repeated what the others before her had also concluded -- though All Might’s presence in Roppongi had caused significant damage to a small section of the district, it did not have the hallmarks of a true All Might rampage. Civilian casualties and building destruction had been relatively tame. Since he had immediately engaged Endeavor in a fight upon his arrival, the logical conclusion was that he had been All Might’s true target.

The death toll only amounted to two. Serious injuries barely hit the teens. Minor and non-critical injuries were higher.

Your cell phone had died hours ago. You looked at the time displayed on the television screen.

Nine hours. You had been in the hospital for nearly nine hours.

It took a bit a time for phone service in the area to finally clear up. When it did, your phone had exploded, finally getting all the messages that had been sent from concerned friends. They were all desperately trying to do a headcount of those who had stayed behind to continue their night out.

Minori was fine -- like you, she had only gotten superficial injuries and had managed to return to her apartment during one of the first waves of scene dismissals. Tsuchikawa was assisting as an off-duty hero but had nothing to serious report, just a cut to the face.

Yume had broken her arm in two places and needed a cast, which required hospital admittance. Before you left the scene you had went to check on her, finding her amongst the injured.

She was hurting, she was scared, she was upset.

And she was ecstatic to see you were alive and well, reaching for your hand as you walked up, apologizing for having left you in the alley. You did her best to ease her fears, grabbing and rubbing her hand while downplaying all that happened. You were a tough girl, you were fine. You were just happy everyone was alive and well.

That was about the time you offered to go to the hospital with her. Medics were already warning of considerable wait-times, you’d figure you could get through the misery together.

Nine hours, though?

At least she been taken to the back to be treated, which meant the end was in sight. You were looking forward to getting back to Minori’s place, taking a shower and going to sleep.

Exhaustion gripped you, but you didn’t have the personal ability to fall asleep in the waiting room. So you had dissolved into slow-eyed blinks and full-face yawns that brought tears to the corners of your eyes.

“Hey!”

The sudden voice next to you ripped through the air like a gunshot, making you jump. You had been so wrapped up in your inner monologue that you had failed to pay any attention to your surroundings. A black-casted Yume was standing beside you, a collection of papers rolled in her hand.

“I’m all set, you ready to leave?”

“You have no idea how ready I am,” you mumbled, stretching and trailing after your oddly bright-eyed friend. When she exited the automatic doors of the hospital, she turned and caught you in a one-handed hug that you had not been expecting. You stood dumbly, trying to process what was happening.

“Thanks for staying,” she said. “Thanks for everything. You were... wow. Talk about being calm under pressure.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” you said with a half-grin, flicking a thumbs up when she released you. “You would have done the same for me. Besides, what are friends for?”

You weren’t home.

The familiar corner apartment was dark.

He sidestepped away from his street-level lookout, an unpleasant and foreign sensation springing up in his gut.

Your lab was dark too.

Pressing and peering into windows, he could see that everything looked relatively neat and orderly. It hadn’t been forgotten. It hadn’t been ransacked.

You just weren’t there.

Just like you weren’t at your apartment.

It had been three days since Roppongi.

You weren’t leaving for Korea until Sunday.

He did not like it.

“Do you need anything?”

You laughed at the question -- Minori had asked it at least a dozen times in the hour it took you to finally peel yourself off the couch to head home.

“I promise you I don’t,” you stressed, hiking your backpack up higher over your shoulder. “This was exactly what I needed.”

Minori had been given a small reprieve from work to recover, a gift from a too-worried boss as a show of gratitude for invaluable service. After lying and saying you’d also been given time off, she invited you to stay with her for a little bit longer under the pretense of recovering together.

And, for almost half the week, you got to be lazy with a friend. You were at ease with each other; all you did was order food, watch TV and laugh. You felt like a close roommate rather than a guest crashing on her couch. It was fun. Mindless.

How you wished your life was.

On Thursday, you recognized the mini-holiday you had indulged in had to come to an end. Your flight to Korea was only a few days away and you needed to prep and pack for it. You would have to say goodbye.

“It was nice to have a roommate again,” Minori said with a sigh, her fingers trailing up and down the door of her apartment. Your smile lost its zeal, instantly recognizing a feeling you had grown all too familiar with.

Loneliness.

“I’ll come around again!” you promised, sincerely looking into her eyes. “Maybe it won’t take us another six months to see each other again.”

“I hope so,” she said, further deflating, believing your words to be hollow. “I really hope so.”

He checked again on Friday.

When he turned the corner onto your street, he recognized the corner apartment was filled with light.

But he needed additional confirmation.

Approaching, he waited.

The street was empty.

Confirmation.

That’s all he needed.

You walked by a window.

He left.

Pathetic.

Weak.

Pathetic.

Weak.

But that unpleasant feeling was easing.

Your flight was due to leave early morning Sunday. You’d land, get checked into your hotel and have a chance to get out and see Seoul prior to the start of the conference -- Yume had visited previously and promised to take you sightseeing.

You wanted to be good and headed to bed early Saturday night. Snuggling under your covers, the tension fell away from your body and you waited for sleep to take you.

But your body didn’t want to listen.

Instead, you ended up spending most of the night tiredly staring at your phone screen, silently begging to lose consciousness. At every change in the hour, you’d count how many hours of sleep you’d be getting if you fell asleep at that moment.

Eight hours. Seven. Six. Five.

At some point, the world did go dark and your mind went blank.

Only for you to awaken with a start.

You body jolted as you regained sudden conscious, blinking rapidly. How long had you been out? What--

There was a series of taps.

Too confused to be afraid, you sat up.

Tapping.

You squinted, looking over to see a darken silhouette blocking the view of one of your bedroom windows. Not entirely convinced what you were experiencing wasn’t some sort of lucid dream, you slid out of bed and approached the hulking figure, only realizing when it was too late that it probably wasn’t the best idea.

You immediately recognized the shape of two upright bangs pointing from the top of the beast’s head. You pressed your face against the glass, staring at a frowning All Might who was gripping a portion of the building facade.

With a groan you pushed back, shuffling to the front door to assumedly let him in.

He was there, waiting when you opened it.

“What are you doing here now? At this time? This is not a good time!” you informed him with a hissing groan, though all he did was brush pass you to enter, unconcerned that he was unwanted. “I’ve got to be up a few hours to catch a plane. To Seoul. I can’t be awake right now.”

“Hm,” he hummed nonchalantly, looking around the room before turning to face you.

“What do you want?”

He didn’t answer and your glare lost some of its ice. All Might’s expression was... unusual, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on why. His arrogance wasn’t as encompassing as it usually was and he didn’t look angry or even lustful.

He was just… looking at you. Normally.

That was unsettling.

“Are you okay?” you asked, tilting your head as if another angle could help you understand his state of mind better. Was something wrong? Perhaps that’s why he was at your place at such an odd hour…

The question, however, shook him out of whatever mood he had been in. Suddenly a large grin burst through his passive facade, brilliant white teeth bared almost threateningly as you cursed your poor judgment.

“Do you worry about me, sweetheart?” he asked, voice full of spiked honey. There it was. Your head fell back as you sighed, aware you had fallen into another one of his teasing spells.

“Now really isn’t the time--”

“‘Be careful.' ” He was closer now, looking down at you accusingly. “That’s what you said before you scampered off after your friend. In Roppongi. ‘Be careful.’ Were you worried about me? Are you worried about me? Afraid I’ll get hurt?”

Go to bed.

“I just… didn’t want Endeavor to… well, blast your head off,” you countered, far too worn out to even attempt to put up with his dynamism.

“My dear, as if he could.”

You rolled your eyes, holding your hands up in concession -- yes All Might, of course, you are all powerful. With another sigh you looked over toward the cable box, wincing at the time displayed in red. In four hours you’d have to be awake.

“I have to go to bed,” you said, imploring. You were one step away from clasping your hands together and begging for him to leave you alone, though you were certain it would be unwise to resort to such a tactic. He would undoubtedly relish it. “Leave or stay -- I don’t care. But I have to sleep.”

It wasn’t the reaction he wanted. He figured you’d be more… pleased to see him in one piece. With a scowl, he watched as you left him standing in the living to return to your bedroom. You didn’t even bother to turn your head to see what his response was going to be.

Pathetic.

Weak.

He followed in a huff.

You were crawling under the covers as he hovered almost in the doorway, blocking the dim light of the living room. You were facing away from him initially, but his unmoving presence in the threshold of your bedroom was spooky. You felt like you were in a horror movie. The killer was watching you, waiting for the time to strike.

You rolled over to confront him.

“You can’t stay there,” you said, his silhouetted features barely distinguishable in the darkness. “You’re making me nervous.”

He snorted and ducked into the room, standing over your bedside.

That was worse.

Patience wearing thin, you lifted an arm, exposing your body beneath the covers.

“Do you want to get into bed with me?”

It looked like he was hesitating, surely the offer to join you in bed was tempting enough to him. You slid over more – though it was a queen size bed, it was still going to be a tight fit. You hid a yawn behind your blanket as you waited.

Such an opportunity.

He was moving, untying and kicking off the boots he had rudely worn into your home. You watched him unbuckled his pants, letting them drop to the floor in a great heap before he stepped out of them.

Still, he did not get in the bed.

“Your bed won’t hold me,” he was grumbling. It took a few milliseconds for his words to sink into your fuzzy brain. When they did, you shook your head.

“I’ve had sleepovers in this bed. If it can hold five people and a pizza, it will support you.”

“Not the bed frame.”

“Come to bed, All Might.”

His body thrummed pleasantly at the phrasing you used, the familiarity it held. He ignored gnashing teeth in his head, carefully placing a knee on the edge of the bed. Slowly, he added more weight to it.

You assumed he was moving slowly on purpose to further annoy you and were quickly reaching the point where you were just going to reach up and pull him down--

At the addition of his second knee, your world suddenly tilted.

You let out a surprised gasp when the bottom of your bed crashed to the floor. With a loud ‘thump,’ your heart squeezing painfully in your chest, your sleep-deprived mind had not been ready to receive such a scare. All Might was standing, cursing under his breath.

Another loud breath escaped when he lifted the end of the bed with ease, doing something that put everything right again. You were sitting up at that point, open-mouthed and alarmed.

“What happened?” you squawked, rolling out of bed to check on whatever the villain had done. You flipped up the covers to examine what ailed your most precious piece of furniture while he snorted above you.

“You have a cheap bed frame. The legs buckled.”

Even in the dark, you could make out that the legs of the metal frame were bent and warped where they joined with the main body. You gingerly touched the jaggedness.

“Well, I can’t sleep on this now,” you said as you stood. “The whole thing could collapse again while I sleep!”

“It’ll be fine. Obviously, it held your weight,” All Might dismissed.

“How much do you weigh? Now I have to order a new frame and--”

Wait.

Sleepiness was being pushed aside as the logical, building section of your mind shook itself conscious. The weight distribution didn’t make sense -- why would the two bottom legs buckle? All Might had been leaning on the side of the bed…

‘Obviously, it held your weight.’

You turned to him.

“Did you do this?”

All Might was not happy, but his silence was answer enough. You wracked your brain, thinking when he had been in your bedroom to have caused the damage, but you were coming up blank. He hadn’t been in--

No, that wasn’t true. He had been in your room. The last time he had visited. You had left him alone at one point.

The sound you heard while you were bathing.

“You broke my bed!” you hissed, pointing at him. All Might flared up -- you would use such a tone with him?

“You bought a cheap frame!” he snarled back.

“You broke my bed and tried to hide it!” You were defeated, shoulders slumped. “Why did you have to pick tonight?”

You knew how your body reacted when you didn’t get enough sleep. A sick feeling would settle in your gut that would plague you the entire day. You’d be run-down and lethargic. Frustration strangled your being.

You started rubbing your eyes, mostly because you didn’t know what else to do and everything in you just wanted you to curl up and sleep. But All Might took your reaction as an emotional one and believed you were on the verge of tears.

He released some kind of rough, fed-up sound before pushing you aside to lean down by your bed. Wrapped in stunned silence, you watched as he went to each corner to tear the legs off of the frame, starting with the ones he had ‘fixed’ and wrenching off the ones that were untouched. He flung the accursed objects out of the way, ignoring the clattering that rung out as they struck the wall and fell to the ground.

He didn’t care, he was gesturing to the bed and staring at you.

It sat flush on the ground. There was no chance of it buckling now. He had solved the problem.

“Happy?”

You blinked at him, horrified.

“No!”

You were being lifted, scooped up in the arms of a brute who was just as frustrated as you. Neither of you had the patience to deal with one another. You grunted when you landed on the bed after being dumped unceremoniously onto it and went to berate him, but fell quiet when you felt the mattress sag around you.

All Might was poised over you.

The room was quiet, the silence only broken by low-but-audible humming coming from appliances tucked away in the kitchen. Somewhere outside in the distance, an ambulance wailed. He had fallen into another staring spell and you could think to do was return his gaze.

You broke first, shaking your head without lifting it from the pillow.

“You really are an asshole.”

Slowly, a Cheshire grin unfurled.

You were raising your arms to wrap around his neck, intent on bringing him down to you. It didn’t matter if you could reach him or not -- at seeing what you wanted, he was eager to follow through.

You closed your eyes, hands coming to a rest on either side of his neck as his face drifted ever closer to yours. You felt his breath ghost across your mouth and you laughed, prompting him to complete his action with a sudden lurch.

It was nice, kissing someone in bed in the dark.

It was an easy, mellow joining of the mouths at first. Soft clicking echoing in the room as your lips moved and shifted over each other’s. But, ever the glutton, All Might could not be satisfied with just that.

He wanted more.

You were content and compliant with his silent demands, acceding to a deeper kiss without a fuss. The familiar texture and taste of his tongue slipped into your mouth. He was shifting around you, sliding his large forearm under your neck while another arm settled down by your side.

With that, he allowed more of his weight to rest against you.

You melted under the additional pressure, savoring the odd comfort it gave you. He was like one of those weighted blankets. A simple cure for anxiety.

He momentarily broke the kiss to further adjust himself over you. His breathing, you noticed, was just as slow and deep as yours. Relaxed. Before he could seize your mouth again, you ran your fingers lightly across the underside of his jaw.

You could have sworn the ticklish touch made him ever-so-slightly flinch away.

“I’ll admit it,” you muttered, hand still moving. “I’m glad Endeavor didn’t kill you.”

At that, he caught your mouth once more, though the movements of his tongue had slowed considerably.

“Don’t you want to go to bed?” he asked against your mouth. Your hands had found themselves near his collarbone and were dipping under the neckline of his shirt. He felt you exhale forcibly but you said nothing, instead you pressed your nose against his, roping him back into kissing you.

Much to your dismay, he ended the liplock too soon.

He was following the curve of your jaw with his mouth and, at the junction where it fed into your neck, he pressed his tongue against it. You lifted your chin, exposing more of your throat to him as he switched to mild sucking.

Then he stopped.

“No, you should sleep,” he sneered, pushing your face away as he sat up. “You’re tired.”

‘Yes, you’re right.’ you said, wrapping your covers around you and rolling away from him. ‘Goodbye.’

But that’s not what you did.

You were grumbling complaints under your breath as you hugged his arm. Though he had been planning to leave the bed, your touch did make him pause. He looked at you ‘confused’ -- his brows were knitted but the obvious smirk on his face ruined his performance.

“Not so tired after all?” he taunted. You went to open your mouth but retracted your head in surprise when he shoved a finger inside of it. “Go ahead,” he said, returning to his position over you. His finger had hooked your cheek and you suddenly felt like a trout caught on a fishing line. “Call me a name.”

You bit down on his finger which only made him laugh as he dragged it out of your mouth. Your head was pushed back onto the pillow.

Then he was on you, trailing heated kisses down your neck to your chest. He braced his weight against a forearm by your head while his free hand landed on your chest and began aggressively groping your breast through your shirt.

That anxious feeling was growing in your gut as things shifted from kissing to something more… carnal.

Was it sad that you would have been perfectly happy with just kissing?

You sucked air through your teeth when you felt him clamp down on the soft skin of your shoulder. Immediately you tried pushing him away, though the effort was moot.

“You’re going to leave a mark,” you seethed.

“That’s the point,” came his growling reply and to further accentuate his objective, you felt another burst of pain as his teeth sunk into you once more, this time closer to your neck.

At each bite or suck you grew more irritated, steadily increasing the effort you put into pushing him off of you. You pressed your knees into his gut, only for him to force them apart and press them down so he could settle his stomach between your legs. At feeling his weight pressed against your crotch, you went rigid. He gave another deep-throated chuckle, then his tongue was gliding over the blemishes he had left.

He was sliding down after that -- you felt the pinching of your left nipple by his fingers while he moved over your right breast, mouthing you over your shirt. You clenched your teeth battering down the breathy little gasp that had almost fluttered out of you.

You weren’t feeling tired anymore.

All Might’s bangs were dancing across your face as he pestered your chest with wicked affection. Annoyed by the brushing of his hair, you tugged at them, only to let out a small gasp when fingers and teeth clamped down on both nipples.

Though was it really surprising?

“You’re so soft,” he said, a rasp in his voice as he moved his hand under your shirt to press and grab at the flesh of your side, relishing in the way it molded easily around his hand as he dug his fingers into you. And you were small compared to him. So much of your body could fit inside the length of his palm.

Tugging your shirt up, he was pressing his face against your stomach. Sharp open-mouthed kisses turned to sucking latches that morphed into nipping which caused you to make sounds of protest. Those noises did nothing more than compel him on and he was soon at your exposed breasts, your shirt bunched above them. You were looking down, watching his tongue slither out of his mouth to encircle and flick a nipple before teeth were clenched around it.

At your whimper he made a sound -- you felt the vibrations around your skin as his teeth released their hold, though suction from his mouth kept your nipple trapped by his lips, tongue drawing shapes and wetting the skin in unhurried patterns.

And for several agonizing minutes, he tortured you with pleasure.

Sure what he was doing felt good, even the sharp bits of hurt had driven you to a point where you uncaringly became louder with your gasps and groans. What was driving you crazy was the want for more. He was building you up to something, but he was long overdue in moving to the next step.

He was switching breasts for what had to be the fourth time, dragging bared teeth across a hard and too-sensitive nipple when your resolve crumbled.

You wondered if he’d ever get bored with the begging game.

“Please.”

All Might continued his actions but tilted his head toward your face. You could feel his tongue attacking your hidden nipple before he raised his head up, your breast held by his mouth until the tension became too great and it pulled away with an audible pop.

“But you’re tired,” he purred, baring his teeth and gnashing down on the underside of your breast. You gasped, raising a hand to strike out as a reflex.

It was immediately pinned to the bed.

He tsked.

“Sweetheart," he chided in that low voice. “Violence doesn’t suit you.”

You didn’t know what to do. Equal parts of you wanted to end the encounter and/or push his head down between your legs.

What you settled on doing was bristling up in annoyed rage, glaring as he languidly rolled his face across your stomach, continuingly planting heavy-handed kisses that half-heartedly disguised the intent of marking you up.

“Angry?” he asked, mouth landing just by your belly button. He was playing with the waistline of your pajama pants, finger dipping below the fabric to touch the elastic of your underwear. “Should I stop?”

No.

“No.”

He gave you a satisfied look, rising to his knees while moving the waistband of your pants with him. Your legs rose in the air, settling against his chest as he flung your pajama bottoms away. Tracing a hand down your leg, he was--

Scabs.

Standing in ripped stockings.

Shadowed eyes glanced to your face -- you were staring up toward the ceiling, breathing deeply as you prepared yourself for him to drift lower. Knowing you were not watching him directly, he repositioned your leg, moving to stroke your inner thigh while eyes examined the marks that decorated the other side.

All Might was not opposed to seeing bruises and blemishes on your body. In fact, he reveled in each possessive mark he created. But these injuries were different. He didn’t get a thrill of excitement at seeing them.

Pathetic.

Weak.

He adjusted, moving to lay his upper body down on the bed and bring his face closer to your crotch. Your breathing hitched when you felt him place his mouth against your inner thigh, eyes shuttering closed as heart squeezed remember the feeling of last time he… well, ate you out.

Well, he had a good chance of putting you to sleep.

He was halfway hanging off the broken bed, most of his lower laying across the floor of your bedroom. He was forcing you to raise and bend your knees so he could better mouth at the flesh of your thighs -- you shuddered each time his lips pressed against the soft skin. But with him, you knew better to expect the kisses to last. At the passing of each second, you felt your body grow tighter, mentally preparing yourself for incoming pain. All Might could feel the tension in your body and grinned against you.

“Worried?” he hummed.

You rolled your eyes and kept your focus on the ceiling.

“I know you’re going to end up--”

The pain shot up your leg, a gasp escaping from you in the middle of your sentence. You glowered down at him, gritting your teeth when he met your eye and bit down on another section of fatty tissue.

“Stop doing that!” you said sharply, swiping at him. He caught your hand by the wrist just as your fingers brushed against his hair.

He forced your hand down by your crotch, fingers pressing beneath the fabric of your underwear and pulling it aside. Though he released your hand, you kept it there, watching as he flattened his tongue and ran it against your slit.

You shivered immediately, letting out a whimper as you bent your legs further apart, body instinctively inviting him deeper. Seeing that he brushed his face against you and inhaled loudly, breathing your scent in as he partook in another, wide-tongue taste.

“I love the way you taste,” he crooned. “... Like yesterday’s catch. ”

You yelped at the insult, knees snapping closed around his head as you sat up. You were pulling away, his barb had stung too sharply. You didn’t joke about that. That was cruel! The moment had been killed. But he was laughing, heavy breaths striking your pussy as he gripped your thighs to keep you against him.

After that, he rolled your panties off, tossing them away.

And then All Might was kissing you, tongue burying into your cunt as his lips pressed and tugged at your folds, acting as if it had been your mouth. You let out another breathy sound, though it came from deep in your gut and followed a more pleasure-derived melody.

“Perfect,” he said with a raspy breath, though still entirely too humored. He pulled away from your core, littering oddly gentle kisses up and down your legs. He must have known he had crossed a line, you mused, and he was trying to make up for it. “It’s perfect, kitten.”

“That was mean,” you grumbled and he flicked his tongue, dancing around the soft skin of your vulva. Other than minor reactionary clenching, you didn’t acknowledge his touch, still glaring. With tongue still out, he dragged it over to your clit, burrowing against the bud.

It was like an electric shock.

You swallowed, allowing your head to fall back onto your pillow.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you heard him say against you before he began assaulting your clit in earnest. You squeezed fists and tried to keep tight-lipped as your breathing pattern changed and small, meek sounds formed in your throat.

It was different this time, the experience of All Might worshipping your cunt. The first time, in your lab, you had been motivated by dumb lust, a foolish fantasy come alive. Apprehension and fear had blended together at the idea of someone much larger and stronger than you taking control.

Though many of the puzzle pieces were the same, complete with All Might re-solidifying himself as an asshole, unease had all but disappeared. If he had acted more gentlemanly, you would have been singing such nice things to him. You wondered if he realized that.

Instead, you were keeping quiet in protest. You’d let him finish but you weren’t going to be affectionate with him.

Even though warm, melted pressure was radiating from your core and making your stomach clench and mouth fall open, no sound escaped your lips. You did notice All Might’s glances at your face were becoming more frequent -- he had recognized your silence and that his increased motions and speed hadn’t teased one moan from you.

“Holding it in?” he asked, curling his tongue around the top of his forefinger before pressing it against you, brushing your slit. “Shame. You make such sweet sounds.”

You could feel his finger entering you, purposefully slow to further drive you wild. Clenching your jaw, you refused to break eye contact, even as he started to caress and prod your insides. It felt good, you could feel a your body flushing. He brushed against your sweet body and you clenched up visibly, jaw growing taut. He grinned with lust-filled victory, knowing where to press to unravel you.

“Don’t you want to cry for me, sweetheart?” he hummed, hanging his tongue out of his mouth as he lowered his head to return to your clit, licking and sucking it as your mind went to goo. You were breathing loudly through your nose by that point, hips starting to rock upward, seeking to press harder against his face.

An idea suddenly entered his mind.

“Give me your phone.”

“What?” you asked, though the question came out alongside a deep gasp. Bleary-eyed, you looked down at him.

“Give me your phone. I want you to leave with a… memento.”

“I don’t want those types of pictures on my--” you gasped and jerked against his mouth. “Phone.”

“Give me your phone,” was all he said. “Or I’ll take the pictures on mine.”

That seemed more… dangerous. You reached over to your nightstand, unplugging the device that also acted as your alarm clock. After unlocking it and setting it to the camera, you handed it down to him.

Your voice of reason was screeching in your ear.

Though the man supposedly couldn’t wield scissors, he could maneuver the smartphone deftly between large fingers.

“Don’t get my face in it,” you mumbled, leaning your head back and using your arms as a shield. You could hear the sound of a ‘shutter’ clicking each time he took a picture and could feel him move from spread-lip poses to action shots. You held a groan in your mouth and closed your eyes, pelvis returning to its rocking as his tongue continued its work.

The quick clicks of typing keys rang out, followed by the unmistakable sound of a message being sent. Horror struck as you sat up, your phone striking you in the chest softly as All Might tossed it back to you.

“Who did you send that to?” you cried, terrified that your sexual encounter had been shared with another person. All Might chuckled as you unlocked your phone, fearfully seeing that several close-up shots of your… womanhood had been sent to an unknown number.

“Me,” was the answer you received.

Oh.

You glanced at the number.

All Might’s cell phone number.

You whined when you felt an additional pressure at your entrance -- he was working a second finger inside you.

All Might gave you his cell phone number. He didn’t send the pictures and then delete the message -- no, he gave your phone back with the number left. On purpose. He wanted you to have his cell phone number.

It was his way of giving it to you.

“I’m only leaving for a week,” you gasped out, dropping your phone on the bed so you could grip his hair. He made an unapproving sound against you. You laughed, his actions caught in a new light. He was being annoying, yes. But only because he was going to miss you. “Worried I’ll forget about you?”

“As if you could,” came the self-satisfied grunt as he attacked you with renewed vigor.

“Oh honey,” you hummed, soft and gaspy, the edges of your mouth curled upward. He glanced up to you, a strange look on his face that you missed -- you had closed your eyes to better focus on the building tingling in your gut.

“When you get back, we should do something more,” he growled. “Don’t you want more, kitten?”

Yes.

His fingers were still moving, pumping and scissoring as he bestowed loud kisses across your thighs.

“Don’t you want me, kitten?”

Yes.

Your hands were tangled in and tugging at his hair.

“Deflowered by the great villain All Might. Is that what you want?”

Yes.

“Say it, sweetheart. Do you want me?”

“Yes,” you breathed out, low and long as he went back to tonguing your nub. He sucked appreciatively, hand grasping and squeezing the fat of your ass as he pulled you closer to his face.

It was building. You gasped, head thumping back on the mattress as your knees spread themselves further apart -- he could sense the end was in sight.  The sensation was too much, you could feel the start of your climax as pressure built up in your ears, driving you toward--

“Punishment,” he purred against you.

Then he pulled away.

No, he didn’t just pull away. This wasn’t him bringing you to the edge to tease you.

All Might disengaged entirely.

You cried at to him, sitting up in disbelief as he pushed himself up to a standing position. He stretched before shooting you a cold look.

“Enjoy your trip.”

“No, you can’t do that,” you argued, watching as he grabbed for his pants. You pointed at the minor tenting of his underwear -- he had obviously been feeling it! But he didn’t respond and you felt your frustration growing as he worked his buckle. “You can’t,” you were miming for him to come back, that beautiful wave of good fading away. “Please, don’t leave. Come back to bed.”

The cold look had been short-lived, he had changed to grinning like a lunatic at your continued attempts, shoving his feet into his boots, not bothering to tie the laces. It just so happened your discarded underwear was laying on the floor close to his belongings, he picked them up and displayed them at you before shoving them into his pocket.

“Punishment,” he repeated simply.

Punishment?

You didn’t understand, he could see that much in your face. So you had forgotten his warning already?

All Might was walking back toward you. Relief spread as you sat up on your knees at the edge of your floor-bound bed, stretching your head up toward him. He crouched, settling on one knee as his hand gripped the back of your neck, directing your face toward his.

He stopped before kissing you.

“Don’t use your quirk on me.”

That’s what this was about!?

“Are you kidding me?” you sputtered as he pushed your face away from him. He scratched the inside of his ear and shrugged at you.

“You have to pay the price for your transgressions,” he said and you wondered if that sentence had been directed at him in the past. The frustration you had felt earlier at his annoying habits was back, with a vengeance.

“I don’t believe this. You’d be so petty?”

He laughed.

Part of you still didn’t believe he’d go through actually leaving you so flustered -- maybe he was just waiting for you to say that one thing that would reel him back. But instead of falling in line and placating him, you swelled up in indignation.

“Fine go,” you said, putting on fake haughty airs. Your shirt had mostly fallen back down to cover you by that point, but you tugged it further down anyway and adjusted it properly. “Maybe when I’m in Korea I’ll find some nice, normal guy to fuck.”

You expected such a territorial man would come at you in a rage, warning that he’d rip off their heads if someone else laid their hands on you. Instead he scoffed.

“Go ahead,” he said wearing a cruel grin. “Go out and get fucked every night. But the moment another person touches you…” He paused but his grin never left. “I won’t come around again, sweetheart.”

The idea of him ending things threw you for a loop. But you pushed those thoughts away -- you didn’t like thinking about the future.

This won’t last forever--

You wanted to curse at him for introducing that thought into your mind. A small tidbit of information you had purposely been ignoring. The knowledge that your fucked-up fairytale would end without a happy ending. Because there was no future with him. You weren’t dumb enough to even hope for that.

Clenching your teeth to hold back the emotional twang at remembering the cold hard truth of things, you grabbed your pillow and flung it at him in anger. He snatched in it the air, bringing it to his face to inhale before brandishing it at you.

“Now I’m gonna fuck your pillow,” his said, face wild with an unhinged smile. Horror crept into your soul when you realized the massive mistake.

“No!”

He was expecting you to be insulted. Angry. Disgusted. But the sound that came out of you was almost like a wail and you were holding your hands out to him desperately, trying to calm him. Still clutching the pillow, his hand fell to his side as he looked at you curiously.

“Please don’t. That pillow… that’s my good pillow. Please don’t ruin it.”

You were worried… about a pillow. He looked down at the object that garnered such a reaction from you.

He had that unhinged look in his face again as he clutched the pillow tighter against him, leaving your bedroom.

“All Might!” you were shouting after him, stumbling off your bed, pulling your shirt down to hide your nakedness. “All Might, don’t ruin my pillow!”

He ripped your front door open, letting it hit the wall with a loud bang.

And then he was gone. No final thoughts, no threats. Just a blast of air and he was gone.

With your pillow.

You really did hate the man.

“What happened?”

Yume didn’t even look happy to see you at the gate in the Kansai airport -- she looked worried. You were acting as if you were hungover or fighting a cold, wearing an oversized hoodie in too-hot weather with bags under your eyes. You grumbled about a lack of sleep.

A half-truth but a truth nonetheless.

You conveniently left out the bits involving All Might. And the livid shower you took to clean his presence off your body. The look in the mirror after your shower had been particularly haunting, having gotten a good look at the villain’s handiwork. He had marked you up alright and you had to panic and scramble for ways and clothing that would hide your neck and shoulders. Which meant you’d be wearing scarves, high-necked shirts and your lone turtleneck... in the middle of summer.

It was a horribly embarrassing situation to be in, especially since it involved your career. Who knew what kind of people you would be rubbing elbows with during the support convention. Your professional attire had been thrown on its head because a middle-aged man was obsessed with giving you hickeys like a horny high school teenager.

Which you let him do.

That thought was immediately suffocated.

It was just under two hours, the flight from Japan to Korea. By early afternoon, you were unlocking your hotel room, falling onto the crisp white sheets of the bed with a satisfying grunt. Your body wanted to melt into the mattress and you felt your eyes growing heavy. But you and Yume had a full day planned and only stopped by the hotel to drop off your luggage.

A series of knocks at your door startled you.

You had fallen asleep!

“Sorry!” you cried slightly delirious as you opened the door, finding a worried friend standing at the threshold. “I guess I took a cat nap. I’m ready, are you?”

“Are you sure you want to wear a sweater? It’s supposed to be really hot today…”

“Don’t worry!” you were still smiling. “I’ll be fine! I’ve been feeling chilly, actually!”

You were not fine. It was humid. And Yume insisted on walking everywhere.

At one point, as you stood at an intersection in the Gangnam District, you briefly thought you were going to pass out from heatstroke. Your brain was begging you to just tell Yume the truth and walk around proudly without the hoodie, bruises and all.

But what you did in private was just that, private.

And you didn’t want to open yourself up to questions.

By early evening you couldn’t take it anymore. You had stopped for drinks in a bar that was too stuffy. Wiping the sweat from your weary brow, you told your friend that you weren’t feeling well and wanted to sleep away any illness to prepare yourself for the rest of the week.

“I knew you were sick,” she said, pressing the back of her palm against your forehead in a motherly sort of way. “Let’s close the tab and head back to the hotel.”

“I’m sorry you couldn’t get to see more of the city,” you grumbled, fully aware you were being the wet blanket. She shook her head and waved off your apology.

“Please. Like I’d be upset over spending the rest of the day in bed.”

“Yume!”

An unknown voice was calling out, an older man approaching your table. Yume was smiling, standing up to greet the newcomer. You remained seated, unsure what to do with yourself.

Eventually, attention turned to you. Yume handled the introductions -- he was Dr. Kravit.

“He’s one of the doctors at my lab!” she explained, eyes flashing as she turned her head away from him and toward you. Hey brows were raised high, it was a silent warning -- this was someone you needed to impress.

“Sorry for my appearance!” you chattered loudly, gesturing to yourself in a mild panic. “Feeling a little bit under the weather.”

“Flights will do that to you,” Kravit said with a knowing nod. “Nasty. Breeding ground for bacteria. I always eat oranges the morning before I know I’m flying. Get the Vitamin C in me.”

“We were just going to head back to the hotel,” Yume explained. “Get her to bed so she can rest up in time for the conference.”

“Ah, are you in the support field too?” he asked. You nodded.

“I work at a startup in Kamino,” you intoned, having grown used to your lie. It almost felt like a truth at that point. “I’ve switched focus to costume-support enhancements.”

“Startup in Kamino...” Kravitz repeated, brows furrowing. He was going to start asking questions.

“It’s nothing like what you guys are doing,” you said quickly with a complimentary smile. “You guys are the best, we just deal with research. Did Yume tell you about the unfortunate run-in we had in Roppongi? We saw Endeavor there, don’t you guys have a hand in designing his costume? How do you get it so fire resistant?”

Your deflection had worked. The doctor stood straighter, a good-natured glint settling over his face.

“Now that’s a trade secret,” he said.

So much for you leaving.

Kravitz took a seat at your table and the conversation settled comfortably on work topics. Yume quickly revealed that you were interested in jumping ship to their company. The doctor was interested in your experience -- you brushed over past jobs, instead focusing on what you had created.

You were explaining the electricity conducting gauntlets you had designed and crafted, reaching for your purse to show off pictures on your phone.

Thankfully you unlocked it while it was pointed away from your companions.

Inhaling sharply in surprise, you flipped your phone away from you, glancing sheepishly at the two across the table. They hadn’t noticed, too busy wrapped up in their own conversation.

It was an actual dick picture. He had sent you a dick pic.

You knew it was All Might. His… genitalia was distinct.

Plus your underwear was wrapped around… it.

“Looks like I don’t have the pictures on my phone,” you said, returning the device to the safety of your purse. You could not risk the notification of additional pictures popping up while someone else was in possession of it. Especially not a potential employer.

“That’s not a problem,” Kravitz said, reaching into his pocket to produce a wallet. From it he pulled a business card, using both hands to present it to you, proper Japanese style though he was obviously European. You took the card just as carefully, nodding in thanks as you placed it on the table.

It would have been rude to put away immediately.

“My contact information is on that -- please, send me some examples of your work,” he said. “If you’re looking into our company and interested in costume-support design…”

“She does amazing work,” Yume said, jumping in and gushing for you.

“Thank you, Doctor Kravitz,” you said, earnest and honest. “That really means a lot.”

“Well I haven’t done anything for you,” the older man said with a laugh. “But I don’t mind taking a look at what you have done. We’re always eager to recruit talented individuals.”

Kravitz didn’t linger much longer after that. When he was safely out of earshot, you gaped at Yume who was squeezing her fists in excitement.

“Now that’s a team you want to get onto,” she stressed. You nodded eagerly.

You had recognized the name Kravitz. 

He was a legend in the field.

No, you couldn’t let an opportunity like this escape you.

Chapter Text

It was a lecture on stealth augmentations for hero costumes.

The main speaker was the head of the South African team that designed what they were about to show off -- ‘a possible revolution for stealth-based heroics across the globe.’ You were eager to see what they had in store for the packed auditorium as a costumed hero walked on stage. She was unfamiliar to you and, though she was smiling, she wore a blush as if she was embarrassed to be the center of attention.

“Now Perdu is going to demonstrate for us the capabilities of this Verdwyn fabric. Perdu?”

The hero took center stage, shuffling her feet slightly apart before looking at the crowd.

And then she was gone.

Completely, gone.

Vanished.

Muted mutterings erupted from the crowd as the importance of what they just witnessed settled. Perdu had been fully clothed at the time of her disappearance meaning--

“Our labs have designed a fabric that amalgamates with the wearers who have quirks related to invisibility, allowing them to disappear entirely,” the doctor said. “We made what was long considered impossible, possible.”

The impossible, possible.

It wasn’t just the fabric that had sent spectators into a twitter. It was the proof that it could be accomplished -- that science could create something that could turn invisible. The existence of the fabric didn’t just open the door to creating something similar but armored, it also meant that full cloaking could be within reach.

The head scientist was attempting to tempering expectations -- they were years , if not decades, away from having completed enough research for the material to go onto the market. Even then, you thought, the price would be astronomical.

You were glad you had picked that demonstration to attend, leaving Yume to go off and attend her lecture on jet propulsions that was scheduled for the same time. Though it was only Wednesday, you both had already spent an ample amount of time away from each other -- you had different career focuses and, rather than trying to force alignment for comfortability, you spent most of your days apart to pursue your own interests.

When the hero Perdu reappeared, the team of scientists launched into a question-and-answer session. It wasn’t just the South African team that had contributed to the research of this Verdwyn fabric -- it was done in partnership with a university in America and a hero support lab located in Japan.

A familiar, European doctor was standing on stage behind the lead scientist, beaming as his colleagues launched into jargon-heavy explanations.

You really needed to get an in with Kravitz.

That afternoon, you reconvened with Yume over lunch, each eager to spill details on what you had both absorbed. Since your inner-nerd could not contain herself, you went into probably too-much detail explaining the bit with Verdwyn you had seen during your morning. With a borderline dreamy sigh, you settled deeper into the booth, stirring your kal-guksu.

“Now that’s support design,” you said. “Of course Kravitz was there. His team had a hand in the research.”

“Oh?” Yume said, feigning ignorance. It had been a poorly kept secret amongst the other scientists in the lab what he had been working on. She indulged in a mouthful of whatever she had ordered (some chicken dish), covering her mouth while she chewed. “Have you emailed him yet?”

“Not yet. I didn’t want to bother him during the conference.”

“Email him!” she exclaimed, eyes flashing. “It’s like emailing a thank-you after a job interview! You’re not supposed to wait too long!”

“You think?” you said with a wince. “I don’t want to come off annoying …”

“No, you won’t be. He probably has an out-of-office up for work emails anyway. It’ll be waiting for him when he gets back to the lab.” You still visibly hesitated, prompting Yume to directed a threatening finger in your direction. “ Do it. ”

“Fine, ” you said with a sigh, the worry about making a bad impression awaking your nerves. “I’ll do it today. Before we leave for dinner.”

“Before we leave for dinner,” she echoed in agreement.

Though you had spent the day sitting and had been without any stress, you still groaned as you dropped onto the bed of your hotel room. If you didn’t have dinner obligations, and weren’t so hungry, you might have been tempted to go to bed.

What you did need was a shower.

Away from outside eyes, you were safe to unwrap your bulky scarf off from your body, freeing your neck and shoulders from it’s strangling hold. Suddenly, it felt ten degrees cooler. The lecture halls and rooms ran cold, so you didn’t get that many stares over your near-winter attire. But the walk to and from the university campus that held the conference was getting to be brutal. Though it only had to be ten minutes, Yume kept a brisk pace. Your face was still red from the journey, sweat prickling at your hairline and lower back. You needed a shower.

The bruises along your body were fading, you noted with relief. The purple was starting to lessen and settle into a gross green/yellow combination. Sure it wasn’t pleasant to look at, but it was much better than what it had been originally. Once the visible marks were gone, you could dress a little more comfortably.

Unsurprisingly, your thoughts drifted to the man who made them. Aside from his one… text  he had sent nothing more to you and you never responded. You didn’t delete the picture. Or any of previous pictures he had sent to himself on your phone.

Rather, you turned message preview off. That way if he did decide to send you another surprise, he wouldn’t taint your lock screen with his… endowment.

You did save his number, listing his contact information under ‘Asshole’ as it felt like the most fitting name for him.

Dinner wasn’t for another two hours, which left you a considerable amount of time to waste. You took your shower, did your hair, and spent the remainder of the wait watching Korean television and writing your golden email to send to Kravitz.

Both Yume and the good doctor worked at the Odaiba Research Center -- a semi-public laboratory centered around quirk-related specialties. It was a massive operation (construction of its new campus forced additional land to be added to Odaiba) that focused on the creation of various heroic support items and costume design.

All of its imagery touted the partnership the lab had with heroes. Its website was sleek, clean and crisp with borderline stock photos of smiling scientists standing beside the top heroes they outfitted.

“Be a paragon of society with us.”

And you wanted in.

The email to Kravitz was rewritten at least a dozen times as you worked to get the wording correct. You needed to be demure, but personally, you needed to gush about how inspiring his work was to you. He had been the first scientist to really master the creation of material that could not only withstand high temperatures, but also wouldn’t fray or weaken when it came into direct contact with open flames for an extended period of time. Most importantly, it wasn’t clunky or space-aged looking -- it was flexible. Modern. Form-fitting.

Hence Endeavor’s interest in having the doctor as his designer.

You included attachments of your work -- photos and basic design concepts you had saved on your laptop of your favored conducting gauntlet, gravity boots you’d made in the past and training restraints.

When everything seemed good and the included files were all correct, you sent it with an anxious breath.

That was that, you noted as you shut your laptop with a quick snap, eager to do a quick nervous lap around the room.

All that was left to do after that was wait.

Unfortunately, waiting was terrible.

Luck was on your side -- Yume texted you not long after sending the email, curious if you were ready. Rather than sit around in wait in your rooms, perhaps you two could go out and get drinks?

You blinked at the message. Why not just change your reservation time? But distraction was what you needed, so you agreed.

Ten minutes later, you both were in an elevator.

“I think I’m ready to go home,” Yume said with a yawn, stretching her shoulders.

“It’s only Wednesday,” you reminded her, battling down a brewing response yawn.

“I know. But I miss my bed and there’s only so many lectures I can take in a day. And some of the speakers have no life in them.”

“Tell me about it,” you groaned, recalling your last talk of the day. The speaker was about as interesting as a rock and had the same personality to boot.

Rather than go somewhere for drinks, you both settled at the hotel bar -- the Italian restaurant you planned on dining at was just down the street. It was just easier to stick close by.

“Still going for midwinter chic?” Yume asked, nodding to your turtleneck. You shrugged.

“I’m cold.”

“That’s a lie.”

“It’s not a lie!”

“I wasn’t born yesterday,” Yume said, thanking the bartender when her drink was placed in front of her. She cast a sidelong look at you. “Turtlenecks and scarves? In the middle of summer? Sounds to me like someone is trying to hide their neck.”

You bristled, laughing nervously as you shook your head. She sipped her cocktail.

“Though I don’t think it’s smart to get hickies when you’re going to a work-related conference…”

“Oh stop it,” you said, your voice trying to take on an airy tone but falling flat. “Don’t be gross.”

She took another sip of her drink before fixing you with a very pointed look. You met her gaze, ignoring the chattering voice in your head. Sensing you weren’t going to give her anything, she shook her head and went back to staring at her drink.

“You’d tell me if you were seeing someone… serious, right?” she asked.

“Well yeah, of course!” Your drink was placed before you. “You’re my best friend!”

At hearing that reaffirmation she relaxed.

“Good,” was all she said before she checked the time on her phone. You did the same.

“We have what, an hour until dinner?” you asked.

“Yep. But someone should be meeting us at the bar…”

“Who?”

She flashed a smile at you and your gut vibrated. No, had she snagged you more time with…?

Not even ten minutes later you received your answer.

“I’m on a redeye tonight,” Kravitz groaned after greetings, plopping himself onto a stool beside you. “I thought I’d say goodbye before I leave for the airport.”

“I didn’t know you were staying at this hotel!” you exclaimed. Kravitz shrugged and Yume gave you a look.

“We work at the same lab,” she said and you flushed beneath your turtleneck at how green you sounded.

Of course the lab would put all their employees in the same hotel.

“Don’t want to stick around?” Yume asked.

“I was really only here for the Verdwyn demonstration,” he said. His bright eyes settled on you, peeking from behind frameless glasses. “I saw you in the crowd.”

Beaming, you hoped your pleased blush hadn’t risen to your face to further make you look like a fool. So he had noticed you!

“What did you think?” he continued. You took a sip of your drink, mind desperately working to put together a response that wasn’t some strange gurgle filled with compliments.

“It was great,” you said. “Surprising, even. It’s a wonder your… breakthrough hadn’t leaked.”

“Oh, it’s been leaked,” he said with a dismissive shrug. You inwardly flinched. “But not to the correct people. Right now it’s only big news within the development community. As it is now, Verdwyn is not cost effective to produce and that one suit our model wore was five years in the making.”

“But it’s the accomplishment that’s important,” you said eagerly. When he nodded his head in agreement, you felt as if you had been commended.

You looked so… earnest. Yume rolled her eyes but smiled at your enthusiasm.

“I’m glad I got to see you before I went back to stick my nose to the grind.” He was talking to you, pulling out his cellphone and unlocking it. “Good thing I checked my email -- I was glad you did send over some of your designs. This conducting glove…”

Oh my god, he looked at your stuff!

You were intoning those thoughts in your head, blankly watching as he brought up your email with your creations.

“-- feeds into the glove?”

Fuck.

What did he say?

You hadn’t been listening.

“You had a design like that in high school but you hadn’t reached that point, right? You still relied on an internal power source?” Yume’s voice sliced through your panic and you resisted the urge to turn and kiss her in thanks for saving you.

“R-right,” you said carefully, still fearful you didn’t have a proper grasp on the conversation. “The first generation had an internal generator that needed to be charged before each use. Which was… tedious, even if the user had an electric quirk to charge it as needed. So I ditched that and instead wired it so that it could be powered by using the wearer as an energy source.”

“Hence the conducting part,” Kravitz interjected.

“It was my big breakthrough and, well, also an introduction to the design elements of costumes that also assisted from a support standpoint.”

“Have you started drafting a newer generation of this? Some of the technology you use is quite dated and your design prints have last year listed.”

It was an honest observation that slapped you in the face.

“Well, I operate a few years behind the curve, I have to work within the material and resources I can access. Which means the cutting edge stuff is a little out of my reach,” you explained.

“But you’re working at a research lab…?” He scratched at his chin and you froze, realizing your honest explanation didn’t align with the lie of your job. “Tell me, what are you working on now?”

What were you working on?

Boots.

“There is a man with a quirk I’m trying to design boots for,” you started, tracing patterns into the condensation of your cocktail glass. Your focus was directed to the rubber mats on the floor behind the bar as you concentrated on a sufficient, and clear, description. “He has an earth-molding quirk, but he has to physically touch the earth for it to work. I need to design a decent pair of boots that have a solid sole but will also allow him to use his quirk without having to take them off. He’s been working barefoot.”

“You should have asked Pixie-Bob what she uses for the gloves of her costume,” Yume pointed out.

The realization that you had a friend with a similar quirk you could have spoken to about pierced your heart. You looked up, mouth slightly agape at your own blindness.

“But I don’t know how her quirk works!” she backtracked quickly, seeing your face and the actual emotion in it. “I don’t think she has to touch the ground to use it!”

“Sounds to me you need a special kind of rubber for that sole,” Kravitz said. “What kind, I don’t know off the top of my head, but when I get back to the lab I’ll ask around.”

“Oh you don’t have to--”

“It would be a pleasure,” he interrupted, bringing up the calendar on his phone. “Why don’t I set up a meeting in two weeks or so, assuming I find a solution for you? You can come by the lab, I’ll take you on a tour, have you meet some of the team…”

“We can grab lunch together,” Yume added.

“Now that sounds the perfect day. What do you say?”

There was only one answer.

“Yes!”

With Kravitz gone, your desire to impress those around you plummeted considerably. In fact, the enthusiastic wave you had been riding about your future career and the convention in general disappeared when he departed Korea, leaving you exhausted from the amount of effort you had put in the almost half-week so far.

Yume caught onto your drop in energy, also falling into a little bit of a lazy hole herself. By Friday you were both skipping planned lectures, choosing instead to leave the university early for some fun, food and shopping.

There was a Saturday happy hour hosted by the conference that turned into a drinking bonanza that lasted most of the night. Both you and Yume were swept up in it, chatting and befriending other scientists, having a good time and traveling with them in search of McDonald’s. You didn’t stay out too late -- you were in your hotel bed by 11 pm, a box of half-eaten chicken nuggets stashed away in your mini fridge as a planned breakfast treat.

Then, your phone started to ring.

You stirred from you half-entered slumber, foggily reaching for your phone at your bedside to check who could be calling you at… 11:15 pm on a Saturday.

‘Asshole.’

Oh.

Inhaling deeply to keep the drowsiness at bay, you answered, mumbling a hello into your phone receiver.

Nothing.

“Hello?” you groaned again, kicking off the covers to peel off your socks.

Still, nothing.

You were about to hang up but you heard a shuffle on the other end of the line, followed by a sigh.

“What do you want, All Might?” you asked, taking his phone call as a sign that the universe wanted you to wake up and change into your pajamas instead of falling asleep in your clothes.

“When do you come back?” his deep voice finally said, drifting lazily through the phone.

“I told you Monday,” you said. You flipped on the lights, scanning the floor of days worth of discarded clothing to find your sleep shorts.

“What time do you land?”

Ah, found them.

“I don’t know, around dinnertime.”

Silence.

You put the phone on speaker, placing it on your bed as you changed into your sleep clothes. He didn’t say anything else and you wondered if maybe he hung up.

“... What are you wearing?”

You erupted into laughter at the question -- full, gut bobbing laughter. He gave a loud, disgruntled snort, but you spoke before he could.

“Don’t tell me you're trying that,” you said, grabbing your phone and taking it off speaker so you could put it against your ear. “That’s the corniest line to use too! ‘What are you wearing?’ ”

But your laughter stopped and instead you were looking off, staring out the hotel room window that overlooked a small section of the cityscape.

“You miss me,” you teased. “Did you call to hear my voice, hm? Are you thinking about me?”

There was no answer -- the silence was definitive. You looked at your phone, seeing it was on the home screen. The call had been ended.

So he had hung up.

A strange, pleasing sensation washed over you as you crawled back to bed. Though your slightly drunk brain was goading you into texting him to continue your teasing, self-respect told you to drop it. Act nonchalant.

You did change his contact name though. A sign of goodwill.

As for All Might, he had hung up when you asked if he missed you, having realized his terrible error. He never participated in phone sex before and was curious enough to try it. A craving had settled into his bones, he thought attempting it might ease it.

The blunder of an old man.

He returned to his bed, bony body settling beneath the sheets as he stared up at the dark ceiling, his self-loathing scorching. Rolling over on his side, he was met by a wafting, mollifying smell. He tossed the object he blamed for fanning his feeble whims from his bed.

A pillow.

“So, what did you think?”

You stretched in the uncomfortable airport seat, watching the planes taxiing around concrete lanes from behind large windows.

A small sparrow, in a panic, was flying across the terminal. A desperate search for freedom.

You hoped they would save the bird.

“The conference or Korea?” you asked, swinging your head sluggishly at Yume.

“Either one.”

“Conference was worth it,” you said. “For obvious reasons. Korea was nice too. We should come back at some point.”

“Get a little work done?” Yume joked, pulling the skin of her cheeks taut to remove any wrinkles. You shrugged.

“Maybe. I wouldn’t mind looking young forever.”

Your plane was due to board within minutes and you were ready to go home. Sleep in your bed. It felt like you had been working long hours and relief was in sight. Truthfully, however, you had been stress-free, eating plentifully and going to sleep at a normal hour almost every night. There was no reason for you to feel so… drained, but you did. Enough so, that you decided not to head to your lab until Wednesday.

A little vacation from your vacation.

You ran into no issues during your flight back to Japan -- no delays, you had the window seat, your luggage was waiting for you in the baggage claim.

No, the only minor setback was during your taxi ride home from the airport, when you phone buzzed with a breaking news alert.

All Might Spotted in Kamino. Engaging with hero Edgeshot.

You kept the news to yourself, casting a guilty gaze up the oblivious taxi driver. You weren’t sure where in Kamino All Might was fighting but you desperately wanted to get home to your apartment. Keeping the driver in the dark seemed best -- you didn’t want him to get antsy or refuse to drive into an All Might zone.

According to social media, the fight had only started about ten minutes prior.

Was he in Kamino for you?

The taximan, still completely unaware of the possible terror raging nearby, remained pleasant. He talked about his son in university and his upcoming trip to Hawaii. When you finally arrived in front of your apartment building, he removed your suitcase from the trunk and offered to carry it up the stairs for you. You declined, thanking him profusely for his kindness and tipping him well.

Though it had been annoying in the moment, you were glad you cleaned your apartment before you left for your trip. The smell of lemon greeted you when you opened the door, flipping the lights on. The neat and orderly aura of your home immediately putting you at ease. Kicking off your shoes and discarding your scarf, you wheeled your suitcase directly to your bedroom, only remembering then that your bed frame had been broken and was sitting pathetically against the floor.

All Might.

Twitter said the fight only lasted about twenty minutes. You were scrolling through your feed, attempting to reach an unreachable itch on your back. Edgeshot was knocked unconscious into a skyscraper and was taken to the hospital, his condition unknown.

He was only doing his job.

A flash of movement by your bedroom window caught your eye, startling you. But when you went to look, nothing was there.

Then came the loud knocking at your front door.

It only lasted a second -- you jumped when you heard the heavy raps in quick succession, peeking your head from your bedroom.

No. Surely…

WHAM .

The door flew open, part of the handle skittering across the floor of your living room as All Might’s mammoth body ducked through the entryway. The gasp of fear at the suddenness of everything had been lost in the sound of the door exploding open but your surprised face remained.

Very quickly, however, you regained your senses and that surprise morphed to horror and rage.

“Are you kidding me!?” you seethed as All Might approached. He was discarding articles of his costume as he moved -- the mask landed somewhere in your living room, his shoulder pads fell in the hallway, the gloves didn’t make it past the doorway of your bedroom.

His face was almost feral, snarling grin pulled large and wide as he reached for you. He had a still-bleeding cut across his chin.

No, he wouldn’t have come straight to--

“Sweetheart,” he hummed, grin growing more vicious as he grabbed the back of your legs and lifted, bringing you up to rest against his chest, arms wrapped firmly around your waist and backside. “You’re back already!”

He seemed… jittery. Like he had one too many coffees. If he did just come from a fight, maybe he was riding high on adrenaline, blood still pumping after clashing with a hero. Sensing his state of mind, apprehension dawned. It would not turn out well for you if he stayed in… like that.

“No.” You were wriggling, attempting to break the hold he had on you. But it was an impossible feat and your sad tries of escape only made him squeeze tighter. “No, I just got in. Let me down.”

Ignoring you, he hoisted you further up to allow him better access to your neck. He settled his face into the crook of it, almost nuzzling against it before inhaling.

But it wasn’t right.

He pulled away with a jerk.

“You smell… “ ‘Not yourself,’ were his thoughts. Instead, he frowned. “Cheap.”

“Cheap!? ” You were offended, face contorting unhappily at his ‘observation.’

“Like public bathroom… soap.”

“I used the hotel shampoo and conditioner,” you snapped. “They weren’t cheap. It was a nice hotel!”

“Like a budget whore,” he said with a disappointed shake of his head. You were livid. “Go on then, go take a shower.”

He was going to set you down so you could rectify the issue, but you were jabbing a finger into his chest. He rose a brow.

“You can’t come into my house, break down my door and then act like a jackass and think that I’ll--”

With a huff he placed a hand at the back of your neck, forcing your head forward and into a kiss. It was more to shut you up, his mouth covered yours entirely, his tongue lightly passing over your lips before he groaned and released you. The frenzy was reawakening.

“I fought Edgeshot,” he murmured, face still close to yours. He was grinning again, proud and eager to talk about his bout with a hero.

“I saw,” you replied, your focus more on your broken front door and the fear of a neighbor walking by and seeing him standing in your apartment. Holding you like he was. Kissing you.

“I won,” he said, bringing you into another kiss, his grip on your neck tightening. You pulled away when you felt an opening, when his lips shifted over yours to coax you deeper.

“My door! ” you said, drawing your head back as far as you could.

“Don’t worry about it,” he growled, unbothered about a potential audience. Like they could do anything to him. He was All Might. He was unstoppable. Unbeatable.

“No, All Might--” you were bobbing and weaving your head, trying to avoid him. “I can’t, not with the door open!”

“Let them see. Then they’ll know who you belong to.”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” you said sharply, jerking away from his mouth again. “I’m an adult. No one owns me.”

All Might’s chasing mouth stopped.

You were being lowered back to the ground. Your eyes had been trained in the direction of the door, but when you went to look at him, he had had already turned his body away from you and was heading out of your room. Curious that maybe you had finally gotten through to him, you followed, hovering in the hallway.

He stopped at the front door but didn’t go through it. He didn’t leave. Instead, he pressed a large hand against it, pushing it closed. Since the door handle had been knocked off entirely, the metal door wouldn’t stay shut. Instead, it lazily drifted open every time he took his hand away.

You prayed none of your neighbors would walk by at that moment. He was unobscured.

Though the door had already been dented when you first moved in, All Might had left a new mark on it -- an even larger crater-like indentation right in the center of it, where his ham fist had pummeled it open.

Could that even be fixed?

Goodbye security deposit.

All Might eventually ‘solved’ the issue of the broken door by shoving one of your end tables against it. When he was confident it wouldn’t somehow blow open and send you into another tizzy, he looked back to you.

Oh no.

It was almost a saunter, the way he slunk toward you. Like a leopard stalking some poor, unfortunate antelope it planned on eating. You were in the eyes of a predator and had no means of escape.

“Now then,” he said when he reached you, yellow bangs tickling your ceiling as he towered before you. “Tonight I’ll show you who you belong to.”

Something inside you responded to his declaration, but you were shaking your head.

“You can’t do this,” you said, looking at him square in the eye. “I can’t have you coming over her and breaking everything. Constantly! My lab, my bed, the door. Not to mention the pillow! My good pillow!”

An arm slipped around your waist and you were pinned to his side.

Then, you were moving.

At first he brought you back into your bedroom but stopped when he saw the broken bed. Its height was not ideal. So, he backtracked to the living room.

“I’m serious All Might,” you said, ignoring the thrill shimmying down your spine that settled in a pool at the base of it. “This is ridiculous!”

Back of the couch? It was a possibility, he thought as he eyed the furniture. But he needed something with a little more surface area--

The kitchen table.

Ah, now that would work.

He moved out of your living room and you huffed in frustration, launching into your wiggling again.

“You cost me so much money--”

He seated you gently on the edge of the table, only to send you barreling backward onto it when his upper body crashed into yours. At the impact, you let out a breathless ‘oof,’ that was captured in All Might’s mouth when he slammed his against yours.

“All you do is bitch,” he breathed against you momentarily. He was pulling your hands from out underneath him, pinning them to the table above your head.

You swallowed.

“Did you show everyone your marks, kitten?” he asked, dragging you further up the table while he bent and settled his face back into your neck. “They’re already starting to fade away--”

“Don’t!” you said, impassioned enough that he stopped from sinking his teeth down into your flesh. “Don’t. I can’t keep wearing scarves.”

“Then don’t,” was his solution.

“You can do them!” you blurted when you felt his teeth again. “You can do them. Just… just not where they can be seen.”

You were red-faced by your unneeded concession and you felt All Might’s eyes on you, though yours were pointed at the ceiling.

“The point is for them to be showed off,” he chastised. “Not hidden.”

“I have a life, All Might,” you groaned. It wasn’t in arousal. “I can’t keep covering myself up! I have clients and I’m going to a possible job interview--”

“Job interview?” The teasing was gone from his voice.

“At a lab in Odaiba.”

He released your hands and stood straight. You propped yourself up on the table with your elbows.

A job interview?

He… didn’t like it.

But he didn’t know why.

So he stared, trying to put together a proper All Might response to what you had revealed.

Fortunately for him, you were compelled to break the silence.

“I mean, it’s not certain,” you said. “I have a lot of things to consider, especially when it comes to my work now. It’s a hero lab so--”

“Hero lab?” he repeated slowly.

“Odaiba Research. You must have heard of it. A lot of the top heroes are signed to it. Endeavor is one.”

It was just a truth, a simple fact of the matter. There was no point in trying to hide what the lab did.

All Might… definitely did not like it.

“Ho-oh! Making a switch?” he asked. His grin had returned but there was a snarl in his face and voice. “Is that it? Chasing after heroes now?”

“You know that’s not--”

He was tugging your shirt up off your body, tossing it aside.

“I beat heroes, darling,” he said, hooking a finger beneath the small bit of fabric holding together the cups of your bra. With a flick of his wrist it tore, your bra spilling open. He placed his hands on your breasts, simultaneously pushing you back down onto your back.

You grit your teeth, stomach already clenching in anticipation.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” you said, watching his hands maul your breasts before guiding your nipples between too-large fingers. “What impact would it make to you, if I changed jobs?”

A sharp inhale tore through you as he rolled them between the pads thumb and pointer finger, pinching and pulling them up.

“Someone has seen the error of her ways,” he said, shaking his head with a ‘tsk.’ “Wants to go off and be a hero fucker now.”

“I work in a lab!”  You didn’t like what his was implying and you suppressed a whimper as he continued working your nipples into sweet, harden peaks. “And I haven’t fucked anyone.”

All Might paused.

Then he grinned.

He was leaning over your face, bestowing a soft, closed-mouth kiss against your lips.

“That’s right,” he purred. “You haven’t.”

His face was gone then, moving to hover over your breast while hands worked to roll down your leggings. You weren’t sure what he had in mind-- well, that wasn’t true. All signs were pointing down an obvious route that made fear grip your brain and warmth pool between your legs. A confusing contradiction.

Your legs were freed from their pin against the edge of the table when he peeled your pants off your body, tossing them out of the way. Rough hands trailed up and down your legs and thighs -- his attention was focused on the crotch of your underwear.

“Wet yet?” he asked and you flushed at the lewd question. Assuming you wouldn’t answer, he teased one finger beneath the fabric to trace your slit, dipping in slightly. When he pulled his hand away, his shook his head in disappointment. “Not nearly enough.”

Limply, you allowed him to move your body, watching as he positioned your now-bent legs on the table as he settled his body between your knees. He was so wide, enough so that you felt a bit of a stretch at your hips.

Instead of attacking your cunt, as you expected, he leaned back over you, returning to your exposed breasts. You could feel his breath striking your right nipple before he blew at it -- you shifted at the blast and returned to staring at the ceiling.

Gently, he began rolling the tip of his tongue over it but, before he enclosed his lips around it, his turned his head to lick the pads of his right thumb and forefinger. When his lips clasped around one nipple, his fingers mimicked the action on the other.

You ran your tongue over your teeth, thighs clenching at the sensation. Unfortunately for you, he was settled between your legs and could feel your reaction. He was laughing -- you could hear it and feel it in the way his body shook. When he turned to biting one nipple, his fingers turned to pinch the other.

The clamping of teeth wouldn’t last long, quick bursts of pressure following by suckling lips joined with the teasing of his tongue. Your body was responding, pelvis adjusting slightly while you moved to chewing on your bottom lip. Eventually a gasp escaped you, which seemed to please him. He released his hold on your breasts, only so he could switch his mouth to the other one. He ran a hand across your stomach.

“I beat heroes,” he said gruffly.

You knew.

All Might drew out his attentions to your breasts, so much so that you found yourself closing your eyes to better focus on the little shocks of pleasure that were sparking from your chest. Small whimpers were emerging from you more frequently and your thighs were dancing -- muscles contracting in arousal. There was a ticklish touch by your thigh that finally forced your eyes open; you looked down to find All Might had been observing your face. He grinned, clasping your nipple between white teeth and pulling up, drawing your breast taut. You felt then a pressure by your crotch.

His fingers were there.

“Oh,” he cooed, releasing your breast from his mouth. “You’re soaked, sweetheart. Much better.”

And then he was pressing into you, not bothering to remove your panties, just pushing the fabric aside. You shivered at the familiarity of his hands, eyes rolling up the slightest bit. Your reaction sent a tremor across his body.

“I make you feel good, don’t I?” he teased, rolling his finger as he pushed deeper into your into.

“Sometimes.”

You had actually responded. Sure, it wasn’t the answer he had been looking for, but the fact you said something compelled him on.

“Sometimes is right,” he acknowledged. “Not so much last time, huh?”

“You left a-ah --” A sharp inhale interrupted you, his finger fluttering across your G-spot. Pleased to have found it so quickly, he stationed his digit against it, massaging the pocket of nerves. You audibly groaned at that, head lulling at the deep-body bliss you felt.

“That’s it,” All Might sang. “You learned your lesson, right? You know not to use your quirk on me again.”

“Yesss,” came the hissing reply.

“There’s no need for a repeat of last time?”

“N-no.”

“Good.”

He removed his hand from your cunt. You didn’t complain -- you didn’t think he would leave you empty for too long. Thankfully you were correct, he was pulling your underwear off your body.

“Hands or mouth, my dear? I’ll let you pick.”

“Mouth,” you said quickly. The man was skilled, you knew that. He seemed pleased by your choice and rapid response. He grunted, rolling his shoulders before slowly lowering his lumbering body down to his knees. Hooking his arms beneath your legs, you were pulled across the table, your ass pressed against the edge of it.

All Might placed loud, wet kiss against one thigh, thumb rubbing a slightly sore spot nearby -- undoubtedly the remnants of one of his love nips. He repeated the kiss on the other leg, tongue rubbing a line across the ample flesh.

“Not where anyone can see?” you heard him mumbled to you. Your body seized up, preparing for pain.

Of course it came, he felt obliged to leave such marks. It was a shame you wanted them hidden, though he was somewhat pleased when he realized they would be found in places where only he could go. He was careful when he left each little nip -- not with the intensity of the biting, no he was still as rough as before as he wanted each bruise to linger. But he was sure not to catch any sensitive or sore skin between his teeth. 

Each of your cries was a gauge to him: low moan and groans signified arousal, less breathy sounds meant you were becoming more aware on the pain. When that began to happen, he considered his art project complete.

His mouth brushed against your cunt.

Anticipation.

“So sweet,” he murmured, fat tongue running up your slit. Your entire body shifted with it.

All Might didn’t say anything else before launching into one of his favorite activities -- making your writhe around him. His tongue pushed deeper into your pussy, grazing against your shuddering walls. Drawn like a magnet, your hands were in his hair and he quietly groaned at the contact, the sound coming across more like normal breath than a sign of pleasure. You didn’t catch it and he was relieved it went unnoticed.

He had plans for you tonight, he thought as he envisioned them, his thumb tracing circles around your clit as he pumped his tongue in and out of you. To feel your sweet cunt gripping his cock--

It was pressing hotly against his leg, his cock. It was suffocating, begging to be free. But he would wait.

You were starting to hold your breath -- something he noticed you did when you were getting close to cumming. He removed his hand from your clit so his mouth could take over the attack. The introduction to sucking made your hips buck up and you released a strangled cry. He hummed at your reaction and the flush that stained your face and chest. Your lips were parted, eyes squeezed closed as he increased the speed of his ministrations. The energy was building, your pelvis was forcing itself off the table, pushing and pressing deeper against his mouth.

A burst of white.

Your body rocked when your orgasm struck, hips and legs jerking through the waves of bliss that traveled from your cunt.

He removed his mouth -- a surprise, you figured he was going to tease you with overstimulation.

No, he was standing, pushing your legs apart as he reached into the utility belt of his costume, retrieving a small white bottle. He placed it on the table as he worked to unbuckle his pants.

Lubrication, the bottle declared in plain text, the picture of a raindrop hanging above it.

Your first thought was amusement. All Might had fought a hero with a bottle of lube in his belt.

But the amusement died when he dropped his cargo pants, dragging his underwear down along with them.

His cock bobbed free, thick and already oozing a considerable amount of precum. He was fisting it, coaxing it to full staff now that it was finally free. His eyes, you noticed, were trained on your sex.

So this was how it was going to happen.

This was how your virginity was going to be lost.

‘At least he brought lube,’ a voice offered as you frowned. You weren’t exactly thrilled with what was happening but you weren’t upset either. In your mind, you figured there would be a lot more… affection during your first time. 

What a stupid thought.

The lube was cold -- he had drizzled a considerable amount on your cunt, hand dipping and smearing it around your arousal. He did the same to his cock, pumping his fist up and down the shaft to further spread the slickness.

You swallowed when you felt him tease the head of his cock against you. He was breathing loud and deep, also drawn into anticipation.

Well. Here goes nothing.

You rested your head against the table, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the inevitable pressure of him sticking something far too large inside of you. Would there be pain? You assumed so. Would it even fit? That, you didn’t know.

There was a slight pressure as your pussylips parted, his cock beginning the first slow push inside. He didn’t get very far -- a quick glance up to your face made him stop.

You weren’t looking to the ceiling anymore, you were looking to the side, fists clenched and mouth drawn taut. As if you were steeling yourself, waiting for it all to be over with.

That’s not what he wanted. He wanted you begging for him, lust-filled eyes trained on him as he took you again. And again. And again.

He removed his cockhead from your entrance, returning to teasing your slit.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” he bluffed. “Worried? No, I have other plans for you tonight.”

Confused, you turned your face toward him, watching as he lifted and pressed your legs together, crushing his cock between your thighs. The heels of your feet were pressed against his chest.

He was rolling his hips back and forth and you watched his cock thrust between your legs. So he wasn’t going to…?

“One day you’ll be crying for my cock,” he said, moving his hands from your calves to your hips for better leverage. His body was beating against the back of your legs, large balls slapping against your ass. Your mouth opened in a silent gasp as you felt him angle his cock further down against you -- he was sliding between your lips, barely grazing your clit.

The image and feel of it was intoxicating.

What was it he was doing, thigh-fucking? You propped yourself up on your elbows, breathing heavily as you watched his red cock saw between your flesh. If you angled your hips just right--

There!

You felt the grazing on your clit intensify and you brought your chin down to your chest. You were bouncing, the sound of slapping skin reverberating across your kitchen.

“Soon, kitten,” All Might warned with clenched teeth. “I’ll get to a point where I won’t be able to control myself around you.”

You licked your hand, reaching out to tap and rub at the head of his cock whenever it reappeared from between the fat of your thighs. At your touch he grunted, increasing his speed. His balls were so heavy, you could feel their weight at each smack, slight shockwaves rippling across your asscheeks.

All Might’s grip on your thighs tightened.

He pounded against you for a considerable amount of time, droplets of sweat forming across his chest and forehead while he clenched his teeth. You were on the brink of a climax -- it was frustrating, honestly. There was stimulation and friction, sure, but there wasn’t enough to tease a solid orgasm from you. Tilting your hips no longer was helping, you needed a direct touch.

When you went to touch yourself, All Might jerked your hips back, pulling your arms out from beneath you and forcing your back on the table.

“No,” he hissed, leaning against you. It was almost difficult to breathe with his weight pressed against your legs. He was thrusting even harder by that point, the table was jerking with you, the edge of it slamming against the wall it had sat against.

Then you felt it. Ever the angel, All Might had snuck a hand down by your cunt, rapidly working your clit. You cried out in relief, barreling toward a much-needed, solid orgasm.

“That’s it,” he was grunting above you, his own release on the horizon. “Let me hear that voice of yours, sweetheart.”

A tightened in your gut, you were pressing your legs tighter against him and he snorted, his cock going wild at the additional compression.

“I’m--”

There was no reason to warn him, but you felt an urgency to let him know you were on the brink of cumming. His cock was weeping, poised and ready to erupt. But he wanted to wait, he wanted to see your face--

And then it happened, you flung your head back and let out a strangled gasp as everything in you snapped. You were bucking against his still, sawing cock, cunt pulsating around the object it desperately wanted buried inside it.

With that, All Might’s fists landed on either side of your waist, the power of his thrusting increasing dramatically. Had you not been in a post-orgasmic fog, you would have been concerned about possible bruising. But all you did was watch with muted interest as sweat fell from his body, which had tensed up in an effort to keep from losing control.

You were going to coo at him those sweet words he always seemed pleased to hear, but you didn’t get a chance. After two solid strikes of his pelvis, which sent the table banging loudly into the wall, he erupted, large globs of cum spilling from a glistening cockhead.

It coated your lower body and thighs.

He stood for a few seconds, bangs drooping as he worked on just breathing. When he pulled away, you let your thighs part.

You could feel his cum dripping down your cunt, pooling on your kitchen table.

A stillness settled over the room.

That… was an experience.

Eventually you scooted back to the edge of the table, ignoring the mess that had been made of your clean kitchen and floor. They would need to be scrubbed. Going forward, you wondered if you’d ever get the image of All Might’s cock and cum out of your mind whenever you ate at your table. 

“I’m going to go… clean up,” you said, voice breaking the silence. You looked to All Might who had mostly settled down. His cock, however, still looked as angry and as red as ever. When he looked up and caught where your attention was, he chuckled.

“I can go for rounds, kitten,” he warned before shaking his head. “Go clean up.”

Alone in the bathroom, you turned on the shower, sitting on your toilet as you waited for the water to heat up.

You had honestly expected him to… fuck you. He had been poised for it, he had even lightly entered you. But apparently that was not his plan.

Were you really just delaying the inevitable? By that point, it was a pretty safe assumption that All Might was going to be your first true lay.

But he was big.

And you didn’t want to face that kind of pain.

Your shower was quick, just enough to wash the cum off of you and clean up your nether regions a bit. Then you thought about his earlier comment about your smell -- did he realize that you bought the cheap shampoo? Your usual smell was cheap.

Wrapped in a towel, you paused in your bathroom, listening.

You didn’t hear him.

Ah, he left.

It made sense really, you thought to yourself as you shuffled to your bedroom. He never stuck around after--

He was laying in your bed.

He had pulled his boxers on, back against the wall as he scrolled through his phone. He didn’t bother looking up at your entrance. Though you had been stunned still by his presence, you quickly recovered, working to find clothing you could pull on.

“Did you delete my number?”

You looked at him, brows furrowed while you pulled on a shirt. What did he mean…?

Your phone.

It was your phone was in his hands, not his.

“He-hey!” you exclaimed, ignoring the rest of your clothing to instead focus on getting back your personal property. You could see it had been unlocked. “How did you--!?”

In one controlled motion, he grabbed your incoming frame, settling your body next to his in the bed. You were caught off guard -- though you knew he was strong, his small shows of his power still surprised you. It was laughable how easily he could maneuver you if he so wanted. You noticed your shirt had ridden up, exposing your naked body underneath. Embarrassed, you pulled it down while he rolled his eyes.

“So modest,” he sneered as he continued to thumb through your phone.

“All Might, no!”  you said, still swiping at the device. He batted your hands away, holding it out of your reach. “How did you even--?”

“You've unlocked your phone in front of me plenty of times before, kitten,” he admonished. “Passcode is 4-9-9-2." You grimaced, it was right. "Maybe make it a little more difficult next time? Or be a little more conscious of who's around if you don't want them seeing.”

“I have important things on there,” you groaned, nervous that he would do something unpleasant. But all he was doing was scrolling through your messages.

“You deleted my number,” he said with an unhappy grunt, glaring at you.

“I didn’t.”

“It’s not listed in your messages and I don’t see it under All Might.”

“You’re not under All Might.”

“I don’t see ‘asshole’ either,” he snapped and you chuckled. So that was his next guess? Apparently he did know you well enough.

“You’re not under asshole either." You leaned against his arm, motioning for him to scroll further down your contact list. With a curious brow, he listened.

“There,” you said almost right away and he stopped. “That’s you. Under ‘Buttercup.’”

He should have been offended by such a weak name.

“Buttercup,” he repeated, tossing your phone back to you.

But he didn’t say anything else. You left the phone where it had landed on your bed, choosing instead to remain nuzzled against his arm. It appeared he was poised to cuddle and you were not going to let the opportunity pass.

“I have to admit, I was surprised,” you murmured, tracing patterns on the tight fabric of his shirt. “I thought you had… other plans tonight."

“You thought wrong."

Quiet settled between you both.

“How long are you going to wait, anyway?” he asked, staring out your bedroom window.

He didn’t have to clarify, you knew what he was inquiring about. You swallowed, unsure if you wanted to voice your true thoughts or not.

“I don’t know,” you said, settling on that. “It’s… I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

“Try,” he said dryly.

“Part of me wanted you to just… fuck me,” you said. He glanced over at you. “But I wanted the moment to be a little nicer than that.”

“You fuck yourself with toys,” he said, gesturing to your nightstand. Heat settled across your chest in mortification -- he knew where you kept them? It was an obvious admission that he had snooped through your belongings and you racked your brain, trying to think if there was anything else personal he could have seen. But you were having a conversation and the panic you felt settled. 

“Once you hit a certain age,” you groaned, rubbing your face. “It gets embarrassing, still being a virgin. And then I don’t want to lose it so easily because, I don’t know, there’s something important attached to it…”

All Might grunted, you figured he was annoyed. But then he was lifting an arm, drawing you better into his chest. Everything in you thrummed with adoration.

“What a stupid thing to put worth in,” he grumbled. You perked up, looking at him curiously. “Who and how many you sleep with doesn’t change who you are.”

It was as if you had been struck by a bus.

Such a… kind statement uttered by such an unkind man. Your brain was desperately trying to comprehend it.

“Really?”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t say much else.

You retreated into your thoughts, resting your head against him. You wondered if he realized what he said, if he had truly been attempting to alleviate your fears. It seemed… so out of character for someone like him. To care.

Why did he care? Why hadn’t he just forced you to submit? Surely the opportunity presented itself earlier. He had been poised to enter you, lubed up and ready. You weren’t going to put up any fuss -- hell, you expected it.

What was that he said?

Soon I won’t be able to control myself around you.

Had he…

Had he changed his mind? 

No… he wouldn’t have cared about your personal feelings, right? He couldn’t sense the thoughts that had been racing through your had as you tried to prepare yourself.

Soon I won’t be able to control myself around you.

He cared. He cared, didn’t he? In some sense of the word, in some way, he felt something for you. Enough to keep coming back to you, enough to protect you from Hawks, enough to send you lewd pictures and call you when you were on his mind.

Enough to have patience not to take what you weren’t willing to give up just yet. Even if he went against his nature.

You were crawling over him, settling in his lap. He pulled his head back in surprise when you wrapped your arms around him, bringing yourself more to a kneeling position so you could reach his face. But his surprise was short-lived and he smirked.

“Ready for round--?”

You didn’t let him finish before pressing your mouth against his. You were the one to go after his lips, for once acting as the aggressor. He stayed curiously passive, allowing you to nibble and tug at his lips without a response. It was also you who added more passion to the liplock, mewling when the loud sounds of clashing mouthes drifted to your ears. Then, your tongue darted out, desperately seeking his.

Two thick arms wrapped tightly around your middle.

You rested your forehead against his when you broke the kiss, breathing deeply, hands settled on either side of his face.

“Ki--”

No, it wasn't his time to speak. Your mouth returned; a messy, wild kiss composed of biting, licking and the clashing of teeth. You could feel him responding already, his cock pressing against your leg. You shifted against it and he huffed into your mouth.

“Eager,” he finally said when you pulled away. It was so you could peel off the only article of clothing you managed to put on. His attire caught your attention, a realization dawning that he had never fully undressed before you.

“Take your shirt off,” you said.

It was shocking that he hesitated at your request. You furrowed your brows. He was staring at you, an unreadable expression on his face as he obviously debated something. 

“I have a scar,” he said, rough and low as if he didn't want to admit such a fact. You waited for more explanation -- he was embarrassed by a scar? Surely All Might, of all people, wouldn’t be concerned about a scar. He was a villain and a fighter. The weapons he used were his fists. You softly traced the new cut on his chin. 

“I don’t mind.”

“It’s… ugly.”

He was self-conscious!?

You had to actively work to keep your expression from changing, the entire interaction throwing you for a loop. How could someone like him, this… Adonis, a prime example of a muscle-overloaded fighter, be worried about such a minor thing? A scar?

“All Might, I don’t mind,” you were rubbing his chest, eyes trained on his face. He was still frowning. “Please? I want to see you. I want to touch you.”

He wavered at that, clenching and unclenching his jaw. Finally, he shifted.

You sat back slightly, pressing yourself unintentionally harder against his crotch while peeled his shirt off. He placed it on the bed beside him and immediately your eyes went to trace over every bare muscle. 

Oh.

The scar.

It was large, taking up most of the left side of his torso. And it looked… angry. Much less like an old mark and more like a disfigurement. In fact, it concaved into his chest -- a crater with arms of puckered skin rippling out.

It was unsightly.

He saw the way your eyes were glued to it and the look on your face at seeing such a…

With a growl he grabbed your chin to force you into a kiss to prevent you from continuing to ogle at his body. He was mean with his mouth, you realized, taking the anger he had about himself out on you. You were grunting, trying to push away too-hard teeth, but he wouldn’t budge.

No, he had seen the look you had when you saw his body.

How could he assume you would look at him with anything other than disgust?

But then a hand was there, grazing. You wanted him to know you didn’t mean--

All Might pulled back.

“Don’t touch it,” he snapped, ripping your hand away and glaring.

“All Might, how--”

“Stop.”

It was an order. You floundered under such a dark look, visions of the villainous side of All Might poking through. Drawing your hand back, you held it against your chest and gave a curt nod.

Fine. You wouldn’t pry.

“I’m sorry,” you said, slowly reaching toward his chin instead. The plans you had of loving and rubbing his body had been ruined. He didn’t lean into your touch or toward your kiss, he kept his head steady. It wasn't what you wanted. The moment was going awry. “I’m sorry,” you repeated again, earnestly, before guiding him into another soft liplock. You hadn't meant anything bad by what you did. It had just been a surprise, that was all. 

He was settling, his eruption of anger cooling but hardening. Remaining. He wouldn't forget the blow you had left, but he'd let it slide. You were appealing to him, so tender in your touches. Fine. You were relieved when his hands returned to your waist.

Seeing everything hadn't been ruined, you were drawing his head down, directing him to lean forward so you could better press your crotch against his.

You knew what you wanted to do.

And at that contact, it finally clicked for him.

Beneath you he was shifting, rolling down his boxer briefs and freeing his cock once more, still messy with lube and cum. He hadn't bothered cleaning himself, he would do that later. His time was always limited with you and it seemed like a non-priority. Like before, his hands were prodding your sex, dipping in to test the wetness.

Apparently satisfied, he gripped your thighs.

“It’s going to hurt,” he rumbled against you, deepening the kiss that followed. He was being more attentive, realizing where your mind was at. The leap you were taking. You nodded against him, heart racing in a sickening sense of nerves and fear. “But the pain won’t last,” he added.

You nodded again, throat dry.

He sat straighter, pressing more of his back against the wall, wrapping an arm around your waist to lift and guide you up.

Your hands were on his chest.

His other hand was on his cock.

“Don’t clench,” he warned, knocking against your face with his nose to guide you into a kiss. It was a form of distraction; when he nestled the tip of his cock against your entrance, he slipped his tongue into your mouth. When he started to press upward, he lightly nipped at your top and bottom lips.

You could feel it, too big and too thick, not even in you fully and it was already stretching--

“Don’t clench,” he repeated, grabbing your thigh. You actively tried to listen, but the tenseness was instinctual. It was far too difficult for you to break it.

And then he was pressing in, beyond just your entrance. Sure you had his fingers in you in the past but even they didn’t compare to… this. You groaned, shaking your head and already regretting your choices. But his mouth was back at yours again, and he was rubbing your thigh while the arm around your waist stroked your stomach.

“You’re doing so good,” he said and you let out a sharp laugh at his praise, biting your lip as a considerable pressure settled in your gut. All Might’s cadence broke slightly as he continued to push -- he pressed his face against your cheek. “You’re so tight, kitten,” he hissed.

“You’re so… big,” you gasped.

He liked that.

With a groan he bent down for another kiss, ignoring the slight pain in his lower back -- what his front half was experiencing was far more important.

You were breathing, gritting your teeth as the pressure continued to grow. No pain yet but no fullness either. Just a feeling of something forcing you apart.

Then, the thrusting began.

It wasn’t forceful at first. He simply lifted your body off of his cock slightly before guiding you back down, hips rolling up to meet you.

That was a sensation. You cried out, gripping his upper arms as you seesawed between pain and pressure.

Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.

“Fuck,” you heard All Might swear, his teeth clenching as he lifted his chin. He was sweating heavily, you could feel it beneath your hands. You understood his reaction wasn’t from exertion.

No, he was working on keeping his urges in check. Resisting the impulse to lunge up and bury himself in you completely. No, that would have ruined everything.

But the thought of a feral All Might rutting into you unhindered sparked a new feeling in your gut.

You wondered what you must look like, being split open by such a large cock.

And his cum, would he…

You rolled your hips against him, moaning as he entered you again, always pushing deeper. Forever pushing deeper. There was no end to him, was there?

Stupid girl. You hadn’t told him to put on a condom. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind, your concentration had been focused on going through with having sex, on the guaranteed pain that you were yielding to. You were thankful though there had been some level of protection, as unintended as it had been. You were on birth control and had been since high school, a way to keep your acne under control. 

“A-All--” you tried to sing his name when he tilted you down more into his chest. With that, his dick was pressing against something far too nice to comprehend. You shivered as he continued to rub against the spot, still somehow burrowing deeper into you.

“That’s it,” he purred. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

You weren’t riding high on the waves of pleasure, it was still mostly uncomfortable, but you were getting somewhere.

At the change of your demeanor, All Might loosened his control a bit.

The thrusting was getting faster. You cried and whimpered, clawing at his body.

“Good girl,” he was saying to you, hips jerking upward. You hissed out in pain that quickly disappeared. “Good girl, look at you. So good. So tight.”

A thumb was tracing your clit. That feeling, combined with the rubbing of his cock against your sweet spot, was driving you insane. You didn’t know how to feel. You weren’t sure if what you were experiencing was pleasurable or uncomfortable.

Then, you came.

You weren’t expecting it, there was no building up to it. One second you were sliding back down on his cock, the next your body was rocking, cunt grasping the large intruder desperately while you panted, head falling back as waves of warmth traveled across your person.

At your distraction, you were pulled down sharply. A cry ripped through you at the burst of hurt in your gut.

Too full. Too full.

“Look at this, sweetheart,” All Might was saying with shallow breaths, swallowing loudly. “Your first time and you took all of me.”

He laughed, rolling his hips so you could better feel your fullness.

“You like that, don't you?”

And then, you were being lifted again. Lowered. Lifted. Lowered. Up. Down. Up. Down. Your chest and body were bouncing, you were being fucked.

All Might was grunting in front of you, digging against your clit to give you some sort of pleasure while he chased after his.

“Too big,” you whimpered. Too big! Too big too big too big--

He was nursing your bottom lip between his, leaning down to reach it, his breaths coming out in snorts from his nose.

“So good,” he replied. “Too good.”

You shook your head, eyes closed in pain. You weren’t sure if you were close to another orgasm, but it was clear All Might was. That was fine -- you wanted him to finish. Needed him to finish so you could take a breather.

Minutes later, he growled a warning to you.

“I’m getting close, kitten.”

He waited to hear what you would say, what you would direct him to do.

But you didn’t say anything.

“Where do you want me to finish, kitten?” he went so far as to ask. Not to tease anything out of you -- he wanted to know what you wanted.

You swallowed, leaning your head against his body.

“I-inside,” you murmured.

He shuddered at your preference -- he hadn’t been expecting that.

At seeing the end was near, you felt a second wind pass through you. You were rubbing his pecs, hand dancing over his left breast where you had noticed he was missing a nipple. 

He shuddered again.

“You feel so good,” you half-lied (he felt… there). Your hand was trailing lower, grazing his scar. He huffed but was too focused on his release to be angry over your wandering hands. “Oh honey, you’re perfect.”

Fuck. 

“Who do you belong to?”

It was a cheesy line from a man too wrapped up in lust. But in the moment, as a girl stuffed with too much cock, you were spurred on by his words.

“You.”

“A name,” he snarled.

He was getting faster.

“All Might,”  you cooed.

He grunted, indulging in three quick, shallow thrusts before he impaled you entirely. You could feel his body twitch as he erupted, coating everything in you with him. You were panting, warmth spreading.

Warm.

So that’s what it felt like. Warm.

As he kept going, his orgasm continuing in heavy bursts, you thought of your next move. Obviously another shower was in your future and, when All Might inevitably pulled out, you had a feeling you’d have to change your sheets too.

Not to mention the mess in the kitchen.

But that wasn’t your immediate concern. Instead you were watching All Might’s face. A sheen coated his body, his neck shifted at every swallow. Breaths coming out in heavy huffs. You were touching him again, hands moving across his torso, even touching his scar in curiosity. That brought him out of his mild daze and he looked at you warningly.

You removed your hand.

He stared at you for a bit, interested in see how you were handling everything. You didn't seem to worse for wear, a little red in the face and sweaty, but there were no tears or groans of regret. Part of him had been expecting that, another emotional outburst from you. You shook your head slightly, a smile tugging on your lips. 

He grinned. A large, self-satisfied, smug smile that took up most of his face. Arms encircled your body and his nose brushed yours.

“Told you I would show you who you belong to.”

Chapter Text

There was a man beside you on the train who wouldn’t stop sneezing.

Politely, you blessed him the first time. The third time you shared a smile with him as he widened his eyes jokingly before launching into a fourth sneeze. By the sixth you were staring at the floor, wondering if he had some quirk side effect. A normal human shouldn’t sneeze that loudly, si- seven times in a row.

Would this be your new life?

You slowly surveyed the train car, gaze trailing over the collection of workers, shoppers and university students that surrounded you. Would you have to take the train every morning from Kamino to Odaiba? It was only an hour either way, hopefully the earlier morning trains wouldn’t be too busy--

Nope.

You were getting ahead of yourself, you scolded, reeling in your thoughts. It was only a tour, at most a job interview in disguise, and it was foolish to get your hopes up.

As planned two weeks ago in Korea, you were heading to Odaiba to meet with Doctor Kravitz for a tour of the Odaiba Research Center. After consulting with Yume, you had even sent him a reminder email two days prior -- was the meeting happening as planned?

Kravitz had emailed you back in less than an hour. Yes, you were still on.

“Can’t wait to see you!”

Can’t wait to see you!

Can’t wait to see you...

Surely it was just a friendly sign-off, the meaning misconstrued as written words often were. He wasn’t really excited about your meeting with him. He was just being nice. He was a busy man after all, a world-renowned scientist working on world renowned projects. You were nothing compared to him. Hell, you were nothing compared to his interns. Maybe the saying was something Europeans used in their emails?

It had to just be a friendly sign off.

… Right?

The man started sneezing again and you pulled out your phone as a distraction -- the loud trumpeting was getting irritating. You had texted Yume twenty minutes earlier, when you had first boarded the train, confirming you were on your way. She had been fretting, asking what you planned on wearing and reminding you to bring an ID as it would be required for a visitor’s pass. She wanted you to text her the moment your train arrived in Odaiba too, to give her peace of mind that you made it okay. Kravitz worked on a different team in a separate wing of the building, you weren’t going to see her until lunch.

Another text message caught your attention when you backed out your exchange with Yume. A text that had been sent from a contact with the name ‘Buttercup’ the night before.

“I’ll be over tomorrow.”

Yume’s messages had calmed you but Buttercup’s made your skin tingle. It was the first time he had given you notice of his intent on stopping by your apartment. You had mentioned to him your upcoming visit to Odaiba and what it could mean for your career. At the time All Might had appeared disinterested -- it made sense considering you were laying on his stomach naked during your conversation -- but you wondered if he had made a mental note of the date.

You would probably be in a good mood later when you got home.

Perhaps even eager to indulge him.

You hadn’t responded to the text as he seemed like the type of person who wouldn’t need an answer. Who didn’t want one.

Running your tongue across your slightly-chapped lips, the image of his grinning face filled your mind. The night you flew in from Korea was the last time you had seen him. When he had been hopped up on adrenaline after winning his ‘fight’ with Edgeshot, obviously keen to see you after your agonizingly long trip.

The next day your learned his spat with Edgeshot hadn’t been as… intense as he made it seem. It was only a tussle that ended almost as quickly as it began. The hero was already out of the hospital and back to patrolling the streets, not looking any worse for wear.

You fucked.

Internally you groaned at your giddiness, scratching at your chin as your mind replayed the events of that night for what had to have been the millionth time. The feeling of his hands, his thrusting knocking into your body, sweat on his chest, scar, the ease you had settled into when the moment ended. For someone who had been fucked for the first time by a villain, you didn’t feel any different. Even the initial soreness was gone.

You were the same person. Nothing had changed.

Well, maybe All Might was more on your mind than usual. After he finished, he had stroked your back for a bit, leaving you settled against his chest as he murmured some unexpectedly soft praises. You did well, you surprised him, you were tight.

The only harsh words he had was for your lack of thought on protection.

“You don’t let someone finish inside you, stupid girl,” he snapped, hand journeying up your spine to settle at the back of your neck, scratching lightly before gripping. “Unless you’re looking to raise someone’s little rat.”

“I’m on birth control,” you muttered back, nuzzling against him, fully prepared to fall asleep. He was warm, the rising and falling of his chest hypnotizing. He grumbled beneath you. His hand remained.

“I know,” he said sharply. “I found where you keep it.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything, hm? You could have spoken up. You could have put on a condom”

With a deep sigh, he pushed you off of him, forcing you back on the bed as he got up to clean himself. You frowned, gesturing for him to return to you when he looked over his shoulder.

“I didn’t want to.”

He left after that, which is the only thing from that night that broke your heart. You had tried to goad him into coming back to your bed and to fall asleep with you.

He said he had plans, that he couldn’t.

God, you had started fantasizing about sleeping next to him.

How pathetic was that?

Well if he was showing up again later, you were going to drag him into a conversation about your concerns. Bring up his constant leaving -- the first bullet point in a laundry list of other topics you wanted to discuss. Other subjects included the damage he kept leaving in his wake, the bruises from the bites he subjected you to.

His name.

It was time, you thought to yourself as the train slowed, approaching the midway stop. It was time for him to know your name. Was it odd that both of you just went by ‘professional’ monikers? Not really. The pseudonyms you used were just as good as a regular name -- a social acceptance inspired by hero culture.

It seemed like a small, personal sign of goodwill you could extend to him. Giving him your name. It was yours, sure. But maybe he could borrow it. Use it. Treasure it.

And maybe, he’d respond in kind. Share with you such a personal thing.

By the end of the night, you might have something new to call All Might, besides Buttercup and Asshole.

The giddiness was back.

You unlocked your phone, staring at All Might’s message.

“I’ll be over tomorrow.”

You were going to have sex again, weren’t you?

You itched at your nose with your shoulder.

It was a failed attempt to hide the smile that threatened to spill out.

Odaiba Research’s building was quite the sight. It was in the shape of a great horseshoe, about five stories high, and seemed to be made entirely from glass. A symbolic design, maybe, as if the lab was trying to tell the world they had nothing to hide. That they valued transparency.

Large television screens in the lobby were tuned to various 24-hour news stations in Japanese and English. Two secretaries manned the large, curved front desk, both smiling when you approached. After informing them who you were and the reason for your visit -- a meeting with Doctor Kravitz -- you handed over your ID and watched as they keyed your information into their computer. Seconds later, a visitor badge on a lanyard was handed over.

Take a seat, you were told. Doctor Kravitz would be up shortly.

It wasn’t really ‘shortly.’ You sat on a massive sectional, boredly watching the ‘ongoing’ breaking news story about considerable flooding in Northern Japan for about twenty minutes before you heard your name being called out.

Kravitz was walking toward you, looking like a scientist straight from a stock photo. His white lab coat billowing behind him, glasses glinting in the overhead lights -- he shook your hand when he approached before faltering and giving a few cursory bows.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I’m still getting used to Japanese etiquette.”

“No, no, no!” You gushed, waving away his concern with too-powerful hand movements. “You’re doing fine!”

He smiled at that, extending an arm to guide you out of the lobby and through the turnstiles. The next bit of security you passed was an elevator that required a badge scan to use.

“I hope the ride in wasn’t too bad,” Kravitz said as polite chitchat, waiting for the elevator to arrive. “Did you drive or take the train…?”

“Train,” you said with a shrug. “And it wasn’t bad at all.”

The fourth floor was where you were headed -- you watched him scan his badge before jabbing at the number, rocking on your heels slightly as you waited for the doors to close. When they did, he visibly relaxed.

“I’m really glad you were able to make it in,” he said. “I have a whole tour planned out for you -- the works. We’ll start in the research and design department before we’ll head down to the innovation lab. Then I’ll show you where the real magic happens…” His eyes flashed behind his glasses as he leaned in. “We have a subterranean floor dedicated to testing. We’ll break for lunch and then when you get back, I’ll show you my team.”

“That all sounds amazing!” you chirped.

“You haven’t been here before, have you?” he asked.

“No, this is my first time here.”

“You’re in luck!” He pointed at his chest. “I’m the best tour guide this place has!”

And so, your tour began.

Awkwardly you shuffled behind the good doctor as he prattled on facts and figures that you didn’t really care about. The board had spent such-and-such amount of money to haul in the land to extend Odaiba’s manmade island in order to build the lab. It had such-and-such square meters of space -- five floors combined with two subterranean levels. Sixteen quirk-related accolades had been award to various teams within the past year, they had two Nobel Quirk Prize recipients on staff.

They were a support juggernaut. Only three others labs were in direct competition with them -- one was in Palo Alto, California in the United States, another in London and a third in Moscow.

“Everyone else is just too small,” he explained, before pausing in the hallway, staring at a large door. “You know, why don’t we do the innovation lab first…”

He scanned his badge again and held the glass door open for you to enter first. Immediately you were struck by a wall of chaotic noise that been dampened considerably -- the open hallway had been serenely quiet compared to… this.

It was an open floor plan, the room you had entered. Well, room was an understatement -- it was about as large as a banquet hall, with no dividers. Just a massive, open space. Desks and small cubicles were clumped in the center of the room, with wheeling whiteboards stationed at various points. Most were decorated with scribbles and the smeared remnants of previous work. You noticed design plans and mock-ups were taped everywhere -- on the walls, on cubicle walls, on windows, on the backs of the whiteboards.

A mechanical something whizzed by you, a buzzing uncomfortably close to your ear. You flinched and ducked down, turning your head to see a strange-looking bird fluttering around the room.

That was no living creature.

But the noise originated from the dozens of people who worked in the room. Some were banded together, huddled around whiteboards as they babbled ideas at one another. Others were on the phone, either pacing the room or at their desk, fingers stuffed in their ears as they concentrated on listening to the voice on the other end.

Finally, there were the roamers -- people talking as they walked the perimeter of the room in hordes, as if they were passing time in some kind of prison yard.

One man near you had his feet on up his desk, strumming along to an invisible guitar as he listened to music. During a particularly passionate rift, he froze before pushing himself away from his desk with all his might, rolling his chair over to a whiteboard and scribbling away furiously.

“This is the innovation lab,” Kravitz said, leading you deeper into the pandemonium. “These are the minds that are dreaming up the support technology of tomorrow.”

Not even your high school support labs had dissolved into such a state -- perhaps it was because you had instructors overseeing everything. Their presence and guidance prevented a full 'Lord of the Flies' situation from happening.

You desperately tried to hide the curl of your lip as you watched a man dump an entire pot of coffee into a small office trash can.

“I know,” he said, lowering his voice after catching the look that flashed across your face. You hadn’t hid it very well. “I know what it can… look like to an outsider. It’s mayhem but it’s a controlled mayhem. There are about nine different teams working concurrently on ideas in here, sharing information. It was in this room that Verdwyn was dreamt up before it was brought to the attention of my team.”

You weren’t the most organized person in the world but the state of Odaiba’s innovation lab was making your skin crawl with anxiety. You hoped Kravitz had just wanted to stop in for a peek but those dreams were dashed when he waved over a slim brunette man.

He name was Hartwig. He was from Germany and worked at Odaiba as part of the international scientist exchange program.

“He specialty is rubbers,” Kravitz explained while you nodded politely. He waited but, when it became obvious you weren’t grasping why he brought Hartwig over, the doctor coughed. “I spoke to Hartwig at length about your… shoe project.”

The boots!

Your eyes widened and suddenly you were very interested in the German standing in front of you.

“You are earth shoe girl?” Hartwig asked, his accent thick and his Japanese broken. “I told Kravitz answer, did I?”

Your eyes flickered to your companion who was nodding along.

“That’s right, Hartwig did have a wonderful suggestion. Did you happen to print out... ?”

The German nodded, disappearing back to his desk before returning with several sheets of paper. You were surprised to see an email exchange where several things had been redacted with a thick, black marker.

One word was circled in red -- you furrowed your brows when you saw it. Your brain couldn’t comprehend a way to say it.

Erdbewegung?

“This,” Kravitz explained, finger jabbing at the paper, “Is a German creation that Hartwig here knew of. A geokinetic elastomer that would be perfect for the boots you are working on. Mold this as a sole and the wearer will have no problem moving earth.”

You smiled tightly, thanking Hartwig for his assistance, but you felt no excitement.

A type of rubber you had never heard of? You knew it was going to be either hard to come by or very expensive -- your gut told you it would be both. And if it was too pricey, there was no way you could keep your work at a reasonable commission price.

Still, Kravitz had gone out of his way to help you. The gesture meant a lot and you continued with your thanks.

“Do not worry,” Hartwig said, solemn and serious. “It was a pleasure to assist.”

The conversation didn’t last long after that -- Hartwig roughly explained the basic mechanics of the rubber before Kravitz looked at his watch and sighed.

“We have to get a move on and check out research and development,” he explained as Hartwig nodded. “How long do you have left with us, Hartwig? For your exchange?”

“Three months,” he said with a rigid nod of his head.

“Excited to go back to Germany?” Kravitz asked, his grin getting larger. “Return to German efficiency?”

At that question, the man deflated and looked to have aged about five years. He was shaking his head wearily as he closed his eyes.

“You have no idea.”

The research and design department was much more relaxed and controlled. They also sat in a large room, but cubicles took up most of the space. Kravitz explained they were the department who took the foundation the innovation lab dreamt up and built on it.

“I should explain -- the minds of the innovation lab don’t just pick an idea out of thin air,” Kravitz said as you both walked between cubicles, miming plucking something from above his head. “The projects they create have a strong basis. They’ll list basic ways the… idea can be accomplished. The workers here reaffirm those ideas and refine them. Or, they dismiss them.”

Surprisingly, you didn’t spend much time in that department. In fact, he didn’t bring you around to talk with anyone else on the upper floors. You didn’t particularly mind, being corralled into conversations was awkward as you mostly stood off to the side, waiting to be spoken to.

There were other doors and openings you passed on the journey you were being led on. Sometimes he would point out who worked where -- that room was for design, that door led to software development.

“Each floor has a specific purpose,” he explained. “The top two floors or for the what's, the next two floors are the who’s and the ground floor is administration, mostly.”

“The who’s? ” you repeated as a question.

“In order to work with quirks, we have to understand how quirks operate. So we study them -- which does lend itself to support. Human tissue is sometimes used in the development of fabrics and other items.”

Ah. That made sense.

Elevators located on the other side of the building were apparently your destination. As you waited again, Kravitz continued babbling his encyclopedic knowledge of the lab. It was semi-public, it had a board of directors but the government had some say in certain areas of the company.

The financials weren't that interesting -- you nodded along blindly, mind humming with boredom and eventually relief when the elevator arrived.

“We have a cafeteria on-site,” the doctor said. “But I believe your friend Yume wanted to take you out to eat? VenusFort is quite the tourist draw to Odaiba -- I’m sure there’s a nice waterfront restaurant that will have some seats open for you.”

“She already made a reservation,” you confirmed. “A sushi place…” You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, he was typing away on his phone. “Are you not joining us?”

“Oh, I don’t have the time to take lunch,” he said dismissively. You winced, looking away, afraid on how taking a meal made you look to him. “But I’ll be available when you get back. Just have Yume bring you to my office. She knows where it is.”

A man behind a security desk was there when the elevator doors opened. He appeared to know Kravitz, giving him a small nod of acknowledgment. But his focus settled on you. While Kravitz explained your visit to the security officer, you were forced to fill out an arrival log.

“Cell phone use, photography and/or video recording equipment is prohibited,” the man droned when you handed back the filled out papers. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Kravitz affirmed with a friendly wink. The man didn’t appear concerned and buzzed you through a large metal door.

“Wow.”

It was something straight out of a comic book, your eyes opened in professional wonder as you took in what appeared to be a large indoor training area. You were in some kind of seating platform, like bleachers overlooking a pool. There were steps to your left that led down somewhere but Kravitz was walking toward the railing.

The observation area you were in overlooked a somewhat large expanse dotted with what looked like stacks of concrete blocks. A woman was on the field, standing in the center and kicking her legs out for a quick stretch-- it took you a second to realize that one of her legs was not like the other. She was wearing a prosthetic.

“This is where we do our testing,” Kravitz explained. “Well, initial testing. We have outdoor areas much larger than this where we can have battle bots and flight testing. But here we can bring a hero for a quick try-out to make sure everything is functioning properly.”

“Alright, whenever you’re ready!” a hidden voice called out. You noticed a crowd of scientists standing at the edge of the ‘field,’ looking on as the woman nodded. She ran a few steps forward before raising her prosthetic and slamming it down on the first pillar of concrete.

It shattered and crumbled on impact, falling away completely as her leg continued its downward trajectory. She repeated the same move for the remaining stacks of blocks -- a running approach followed by a strong kick down. And, like before, each tower would be reduced to rubble.

“Well, how does it feel?” a man asked, his team approaching the woman when everything they had set up had been destroyed. She was kicking her leg back and forth, a slight grimace on her face.

“It pinches,” she said. “Especially during the upward motion.”

The man nodded, muttering something to a colleague who was writing down something on a clipboard. You assumed it was feedback.

“But other than the discomfort,” the woman continued. “It feels good. It’s light -- much lighter than the one I have now.”

“That’s Ami,” Kravitz explained, his voice shaking you from your obvious staring. “Hero name Punt. She lost her leg years ago and has been using prosthetics we’ve designed for her. She’s due for an upgrade I believe -- I worked with her when I first transferred here. Before I moved to costume and support development.”

“How long have you been here?” you asked.

“Ten years, I believe. Might be longer, I have a congratulatory pin somewhere on my desk,” he said with a laugh.

“And before that?”

“I’m from England if you couldn’t tell. But I worked at a lab in Dublin.” His eyes flashed to yours. “A… start-up lab.”

Start-up…

There was something off about the way he dropped that personal little nugget of information about himself. You stared at him questioningly but he had changed the subject and was detailing the strength of the testing area, how sturdy and safe it was. There was no danger of collapse.

Before you left to meet with Yume in the lobby for lunch, Kravitz took you back upstairs to a small employee lounge where coffee machines were set up.

“There are some… things I want to talk about,” he said, as you both watched the dark liquid sputter into a paper cup. You glanced over at him but he didn’t move his gaze from the coffee machine. “Things that would be best discussed in private.”

You swallowed.

Whether Doctor Kravitz meant to come off as ominous as he sounded was up for debate, but the… warning, if that’s what you wanted to call it, did hang over you. The thought of returning to Odaiba almost filled you with dread. What could he want to talk to you about?

You hadn’t done anything.

Unless…

Yume was chattering away excitedly, trying to pick and pry about all the things you had seen already. You did your best to swallow your worries and instead play the part of the excited visitor. But she sensed your downward swinging mood because she was Yume and had been sent to Earth to be your second mother.

“Don’t worry,” she tried to console. “You’re doing great! There’s no reason to be nervous, I’m sure you’re making a good impression.”

Ah, it seemed she had misunderstood what the cause of your concern was. You sighed, deciding to play into it.

“I just think… I don’t know, I don’t think I’m smart enough for him.”

“If you weren’t smart enough, he wouldn’t have asked you to visit,” she said. “So don’t dwell on it and eat your food.”

Kravitz was correct in saying Yume knew where his office was. When you arrived back at the lab after lunch, she led you there.

It was sequestered away from everything, on the fourth floor at the far end of the building. When you entered, you got the sense that Kravitz was important. Sure, you already knew that, but his office just solidified that thought. It was a corner one, windows composing two walls. His workspace was modern but still radiated the thick sturdiness of authority.

Most strikingly of all, it was neat. Like, minimalism-level neat.

Yume had walked with you, stopping in for a quick chat with the doctor about how nice lunch had been and to get his take on how the tour had gone. You stood silently, the movements of your mouth feeling too loud as you looked between your friend and your idol.

When she started walking off, waving and talking about the work she had to get to, you wanted to pull her back to your side. To keep her there as a comfort. But the door closed loudly behind her and you were left alone.

“Take a seat!” Kravitz said, gesturing to the small, plain chairs across from him.

You did as you were told.

“So,” he said, hands patting his desk. “What do you think?”

“Of the lab?” you asked. He nodded his head.

“Of the lab.”

“It’s… well, it’s amazing! ” you answered truthfully, looking over your shoulder as if you could see all the work going on behind you. “I’ve never seen anything like it. This is… whew. The best.”

“I’ve asked about you.”

You eyed Kravitz, watching him lean back in his chair and look off in thought.

“I talked to Yume to get an idea of your background, to see what you can do. Those plans you sent me during the Korean conference were original. I know because I checked. And I also checked online to see what press releases I could find where you name was mentioned. To see any lab announcements you were included in. You know what I found?”

Your throat was dry.

You wanted to leave.

“Not. One. Thing.”

To drive home the point, he punctuated each word by tapping his finger on his desk.

You had been found out.

“I found it strange that you and your good friend could work in the same field, yet she wasn’t able to tell me the name of the lab you worked at. So I went out and looked for anything I could find about a Kamino support lab start-up. But I didn't find anything. Nothing.”

Why? Why was he putting in so much effort? Why not just write you off as a liar and be done with it. Why twist the knife?

Humiliation.

‘Speak up,’ you mind roared. ‘Stop him. Stick up for yourself. He’s not your boss. You don’t owe him anything.’

True.

But he could also out you.

Not just to Yume.

The authorities were a very real threat.

“I found all this out last week,” he said, holding your deer-in-headlights stare. “And I still brought you in. Do you know why?”

He waited for you to shake your head or speak up -- to do something.

You just sat there.

He sighed.

“When I was a much younger man, I got my scientific start assisting a man who made support items for…” he shifted his jaw in thought. “Non-heroes.”

You blinked.

“That man was arrested and I barely got away.” He was looking at you squarely. “But am I wrong in my belief? What you do, what you’ve been doing, it’s work outside a proper lab, correct?”

Common sense told you not to admit to anything. You didn’t know the guy, you weren’t sure of his motivations.

But you found yourself slowly nodding. Affirming without doing it vocally. He sighed deeply.

“I want to help you.”

You blinked.

“You’re smart. I know you’re wasting your talent. And I want to help you. I see a little bit of myself in you, I suppose.” He was smiling in a disarming kind of way. At least, he tried to be disarming. Your body was still wound tightly, too nervous to be put at ease by something as frivolous as a smile.

He lost the smile.

“I can’t offer you a job,” he admitted and something in you crumbled. Although you had told yourself to be realistic -- a job at a lab like this wasn’t in your future -- hearing the truth still stung and the hidden hope you had stashed away, broke. “But I can offer you an apprenticeship.”

Apprenticeship?

“Not quite an intern but not quite an employee,” he admitted. “You’ll get salary and benefits but it’s on a fixed time period -- two years. Assuming you continue to drive such great ideas, a job should be waiting for you. But for now… for now, it’s the best I can do.”

You scratched your forehead, proper thought returning to you.

An apprenticeship was his offer? Not that it was a bad offer, it’s just--

“I don’t know,” you said, finally speaking up. You looked at him warily, concerned police officers were going to bust down the door and arrest you. That it was all a sting. “I’d have to give up… just for an apprenticeship.”

“It’s a way out,” he said plainly. “I’m giving you -- gifting you -- a path to a more… honorable career. Putting legitimacy back in your name. Providing you access to tools and materials you can’t get on your own. Speaking of which…”

He leaned over on his chair, reaching for a banker’s box he had sitting on the floor, plopping it on the desk. He slid it toward you.

“A gift of goodwill.”

A block of something was inside.

Rubber.

Your tongue trailed over your bottom lip as you remained standing, still peering into the cardboard box.

“I can’t--”

“Don’t insult me,” he said, lightly knocking the box closer to you.

It worried you that he was just going to… give it to you, this undoubtedly expensive material. A power imbalance was springing but you didn’t want to recognize it. What you wanted to see was someone much older and wiser than you helping you out because you had something special.

You were special.

“I…” you swallowed. “I have to think about it, Doctor Kravitz. There’s a lot of things I would need to take care of. Work I would have to finish. People I would have to contact.”

You sounded as lame as you felt but Kravitz didn’t seem to mind. The fact you hadn’t outright rejected the offer was a good sign.

“Take a week, mull it over.” Bright eyes were on yours after you placed the lid back on the box, returning to the seat. “You need to start thinking about the long-term, though. Is… this what you plan on doing the rest of your life? Not living up to your potential? You have to realize that, the more time that passes, the bigger the hole you dug yourself into gets. When the orders stop, then what are you going to do? What work could you show for it?”

Long-term plans.

Didn’t Kravitz understand you feared making long-term plans?

No, you kept yourself firmly in the present.

The offer weighed on you long after you left his office to meet his team, standing dumbly as people you wouldn’t recall rattled off names you wouldn’t remember. He showed you more pieces of his magic invisible-making fabric, as well as a preview of Endeavor’s upcoming costume.

Your thoughts were too convoluted to think properly. You just followed along, smiling and nodded with unfocused eyes.

In a perfect world, you would have had someone to bounce ideas off of. Someone you could talk to express your fears and concerns. But the people you knew didn’t know the ‘secret’ life you led or -- in the case of one particular gentleman -- probably wouldn’t care.

No, you were alone in your war of thoughts.

It wasn’t a man sneezing on the train ride home that grated on your nerves. It was too-loud music coming from the headphones of the teenager sitting beside you. What you wanted was silence. What you got was noise.

You looked down at the box with the hunk of rubber in it, tracing the crisp perimeter of it with your eyes.

An apprenticeship.

It’s what you deserved, truthfully. Realistically. You would have all the benefits of a full-time employee without the… acknowledgment that went along with it.

But what did you have now?

You had an apartment. A lab space you rented.

And that was about it. Your savings was laughable and was beginning to shrink as you had hit a lull in your commissions. Soon the panic of no money would set in, further compounding the daily stress you faced by just existing.

‘Oh no,’ you thought with a groan, leaning your head back on the train window behind you. Your were being pulled into that whirlpool of self-doubt again. Strangely enough, you could envision All Might standing above your huddled body, rolling his eyes at your incoming pathetic emotional outburst.

He’d call you crazy. Just hours ago you were doing backflips over the idea of being offered a job. And you had been offered one. Why couldn’t you just accept it? Obviously, it’s what you wanted.

Ah, that’s right, All Might was due to come over that night. He would witness another breakdown firsthand. Of course, you’d ruin what was supposed to be a nice night. That was something you did.

But maybe he'd take care of you again. Squeeze your shoulders. Rub your back.

It was amazing that such destructive hands could have such a nice touch. 

You know the answer already.

The thought made you pause.

You knew the answer?

You have no commissions on the horizon and your money is running low. What’s really holding you back? Nothing.

That’s not true! Personal freedom, setting your own hours, a sense of--

Nothing. Nothing was holding you back.

Nothing.

Nothing was holding you back.

These… barriers were minor. Molehills you were transforming into mountains because it suited your narrative. It would be idiotic for you to turn down a decent job at an amazing lab where you would earn decent money and gain experience.

You were pulling out your cellphone, opening your email to find a message that had been received two days ago.

As you suspected, an office number was listed on Kravitz's email signature. It only took a click for your phone to start ringing in your ear.

The call went to voicemail. Closing your eyes, you inhaled deeply as you listened to Kravitz’s recorded voice rattle off his greeting. A beep sounded.

A hello, a quick clarification who was calling, what day it was, what time it was.

Overkill, really. But you wanted to sound professional. Put together. Sound of mind.

“I was thinking about our conversation earlier today,” you said. “And I think you’re right -- I need to make better long-term plans. If the offer still stands, I’d like to accept that apprenticeship.”

You told him you’d send a follow-up email. You thanked him for his offer and time.

The voicemail was only a few seconds long. When you hung up, you tugged down the hem of your skirt, biting the inside of your cheek. The nerves were still there, but they had been joined by another a feeling. One of relief.

You had a job.

Chapter Text

Apparently, you had developed a temporary fix for your broken door--

A bungee cord.

All Might strummed the cord, watching it tightly thrum and jingle against the metal of the dented door. You had looped it through the hole where your doorknob should have rested -- one end was hooked around the outdoor light adjacent to your door. The other end, he assumed, was hooked on something inside of your house.

There was nothing stacked against your door when he unhooked the bungee cord, as he expected. Instead, the door lazily swung open, as if inviting him to plunder your house.

You had been sitting on the couch, eyes wide with fear when you realized the door was opening. But your face calmed after seeing who had been the one to breach your sanctum.

“You haven’t gotten it fixed?” All Might growled, walking inside. With a sigh you stood, assuming the villain wouldn’t know how to close the door properly with your setup.

“I have to put in a maintenance request,” you mumbled, shooting him an unhappy glance. “And the maintenance around here is slow.”

“Your door doesn’t close.”

“I’m aware,” you answered. “If only someone hadn’t kicked it down.”

It wasn’t an ideal start to his visit, the conversation.

“We really need to talk about you breaking my things.”

No, this was not ideal at all.

“You’re going to give me a headache,” All Might complained, loosening the laces of his boots before kicking them off. You watched him lumber over to your couch, plopping himself on it, the cheap furniture complaining and sagging beneath him.

“The door, my bed frame, clothes -- All Might, this stuff adds up! I’m not rich, every time you break something of mine, you’re just screwing me over!”

Immediately you regretted your choice of words. His head snapped toward you, smile ravenous.

“What’s this about screwing you?”

“I mean it,” Your body was slumped, the defeat obvious. “You’re starting to become a financial burden!”

“Fine,” All Might said with a snort and a wave. “I’ll take care of it.”

“What does that mean--”

“I’ll. Handle. It.”

The statement was made with finality but you weren’t done.

“And my pillow--”

All Might watched you circle from behind the couch to stand in front of him, blocking his vision to the television. The pillow. Your pillow. The one you had thrown at him. The one he took.

He liked that pillow.

It was where it belonged, on his bed, perfectly unharmed.

But you didn’t know that.

“Your pillow is gone,” he said dismissively. “I threw it away.”

“You better not have thrown my pillow away.”

“I told you I was going to fuck it. I did. And I threw it in the trash.”

You looked momentarily horrified but you caught yourself, eyeing him suspiciously. You would have expected him to have a more… devious reaction to your question, if he really had ruined it in such a way. That he would have a sense of excitement as he regaled all the dirty details. You had no qualms stressing the importance the inanimate object had to you...

You didn’t believe him.

“No, I need my pillow back--”

All Might squeezed the bridge of his nose before he lunged at you, grasping your hips and pulling you toward him as he fell back on the couch. Again the furniture groaned at his sudden weight while you settled on his lap.

“Is that your plan for the night, to bitch? You should have told me, I wouldn’t have come.”

“I’m actually in a very good mood,” you retorted, indignant. “You were the one who came in and ruined everything.”

“Oh? Why are you in such a good mood?”

A smirk made its way to his lips as he dug your hips harder against his crotch. He expected you to say something about him visiting, maybe mentioning your… appreciation over the fact he had texted you beforehand. 

You were smiling down at him.

“Well…” you shifted. “I was offered a job today.”

Job?

A job.

“What job?” He frowned. “Where?”

The smile fell off your face. You assumed he had remembered about your lab trip, why else had he said chosen this particular night to visit?

“I was in Tokyo today,” you said slowly, hoping to jog his memory. You had told him about the lab tour, hadn’t you? “Meeting with the doctor I met in South Korea about possible support lab work. The lab that works with Endeavor…?”

You trailed off and could have sworn something did spark in his face, but it quickly disappeared.

“You’re working… at a hero lab.”

He stood, callously unconcerned when you fell off his lap, nearly landing in a heap on the floor. Luckily, you caught yourself at the last second, glaring at your inconsiderate houseguest while he made his way into the kitchen.

“Hero lab,” he grumbled to himself, grabbing your kettle, apparently making himself at home and brewing some tea.

“Yes, a hero lab," you reaffirmed, having followed him. "An actual job. I was offered an apprenticeship and I accepted it.”

“What, do you want to go running after heroes now?” he snapped over his shoulder.

“No, I’m running after a job. A job that will pay me a decent salary so that I don’t have to go dip into my savings to replace all the things of mine that have been broken!”

He slammed the water-filled kettle back on the counter, turning the power on as he turned to face you.

But he didn't say anything.

Silence.

“It’s a good lab,” you said, speaking up, looking at him earnestly. “It’s stable. Good money doing work I like. It has nothing to do with heroes.”

It has nothing to do with you.

He wanted to say something but he wasn’t quite sure what to say.

So he stood and glared, listening to the kettle as it bubbled to a boil behind him.

There was an obvious reason he didn’t want you working at a hero lab, one he refused to admit to.

But you had an idea of what it was.

Your ire toward him faded.

“What’s wrong?” you asked with a sigh, eyeing his prominent frown.

He refused to answer you, uttering a soft ‘tch’ as he turned his head, his irritation clearly in danger of being exacerbated by your prying.

He was upset, you realized, battering down a dangerous smile. Slowly but surely, you were becoming more aware of his little… quirks, for lack of a better term. Small cracks in his personality that revealed his true thoughts.

Like this -- his scowl and obvious annoyance. Those emotions were a result of something, not just because he was All Might and that’s what his behavior defaulted to. No, he was annoyed because you were going to be working with heroes. What you weren’t quite sure of was if that annoyance stemmed from jealousy -- was he jealous that you’d be spending most of your days working with his perceived ‘enemies?’

For any other person, you would have believed your suspicions rang true.

But All Might was not a normal person.

Rather than unintentionally dig a hole you might not be able to get out of, in case you were completely wrong, you decided it was best to calm him down, to diffuse rather than goad.

You knew from experience he had short fuse when he was in a poor mood. And you didn’t want to risk it on what should be a good night.

Stroke his ego.

“You don’t think I’ll start liking heroes more than you, do you?” A smile was playing on your face and walking toward him, slight saunter, voice soft though you couldn’t prevent humor from dancing in it. “Like they could really hold a candle to you. To All Might?”

Surprised, his head turned back in your direction, frown loosening. You stopped just short of touching him -- gaze trailing over the great expanse of his chest before returning to his face.

You had All Might’s attention.

“You shouldn’t worry so much!” you said brightly, dropping your bedroom persona as you placed your hands on his torso, tapping the rigid muscles there. He was still staring. “Who cares if I start working at a real lab? It won’t impact you in the slightest! In fact, it’ll probably be beneficial to you!”

You moved to smooth the nonexistent wrinkles of his too-tight shirt.

“I’ll be much happier,” you said. “I won’t be worrying about money so much. My nights will still be free -- though there’s some outside work I will still have to finish. Besides, it’s not like you visit me during the day, anyway. I’ll still be around.”

You were raising your hands up, gesturing him to lean down toward you.

To your genuine surprise, he did as you asked almost immediately. Though his face was still impassive, his frown was almost entirely gone.

That was a good sign, right?

You flattened his hair, stroking his forehead as you pushed back a couple odd flyaways from the frame of his face. Eventually, your hands came to a rest on either side of his head, thumbs smoothing down bristled brows.

You shifted your jaw. A thought was on your mind but you weren’t sure if you were brave enough to speak it.

Just say it.

“You know…” you paused, unsure how he’d take your oncoming admission -- your nerves were screaming at you to pump the brakes, not to own up to anything. What if you ruined everything? But the moment was right and the confession was pushing against your senses, hurtling toward becoming a borderline compulsion.

“You know I’d never do… I’d never do anything to hurt you, right?” you finally blurted out, the avalanche starting.

He went still.

You swallowed, wanting desperately to tear yourself away from him and laugh off your emotional openness. But a part of you wanted to reaffirm to the villain that, well… you liked him. Despite all the frustration and aggravation he lodged at you constantly, there was just something about him that you had grown attached to.

And it wasn’t anything carnal.

“I know the lab works with Endeavor…” You lowered your hands so your thumbs were stroking his cheeks instead of his brows, hands cupping his face “And a bunch of other heroes. But I would never sell you out or mention you. I just want you to know that, okay?”

He didn’t answer and you weren’t sure how to take his lack of response. Was he pissed? Disgusted? Were you coming off as too much? It was your turn to frown and your gaze flickered focus between the shadows of eyes, silently asking him to give you something.

Nothing.

Fuck it.

You threw your arms around his neck.

“Don’t assume the worst of me!” you murmured, nuzzling against the side of his head, hot breath striking his ear. “I like you too much, honey bunny.”

It was undeniable. You felt his body vibrate as he released shaky, unexpected exhale.

He had shuddered.

No…

There was no way.

All Might--

You were pulling away, confused, looking for some kind of explanation to his reaction. Surely the great All Might, Japan’s demon of discord, hadn’t just shuddered at your sweet-talk.

“Did you--”

You stopped your question at seeing his face. His jaw was visibly clenching, nostrils flaring, as glared at you.

Now that reaction, that made sense -- that was what you expected from All Might.

He knew he had been caught.

“Shut up,” he snarled, pushing in toward you, thick arm bracing your backside when you stumbled backward. He was lifting you off the ground and you were laughing.

Clearly, this was how All Might handled embarrassment -- by falling into a rage. Common sense told you laughter would only worsen the situation, but you couldn’t help it.

He was pressing you against your kitchen wall, his teeth bared inches away from your face. He expected you to shy away from him and his anger, not reach out to run your fingers along the curve of his chin.

“What was it?” you cooed at him, drunk off his chagrin. “What did you like?”

A hand was placed at your throat but there was no pressure, its only purpose was to tilt your face up toward his and prevent your head from moving.

“That I like you?” you continued, eyes dancing as he leaned in closer.

He bit your lips, tugging at them as he applied the slightest pressure to your throat. He released his teeth so he could properly align his mouth with yours, to start an actual kiss--

But he didn’t do it fast enough.

“Was it… honey bunny?”

Hesitation.

You pulled away from his hand so you could throw your head back to properly handle the raucous laughter rocking your body.

Honey bunny.

No. No there was no way.

Honey bunny!

Not All Might. It was…

No.

Impossible.

But it was possible. Clearly, it was possible. In fact, he essentially confirmed it when he released a loud growl and attacked your mouth, trying to get you to shut up.

So it wasn’t ‘Master’ or ‘Sir’ that sparked a fire in the villain’s gut -- something that seemed almost a guarantee for a baddie with such an ego. Nothing that implied his power or was demeaning for you to utter.

No.

It was honey bunny.

Or a combination of everything.

“If you don’t stop…” He was snarling a warning at you, incensed by your cheek. But the moment was too good. You’d gladly face the consequences in order to keep the memory.

“You don’t like it?” you asked, holding his face in your hands before pressing a series of quick kisses against his lips and chin.

Your actions were snagging and slowing the thoughts in his already addled brain -- you could almost see the turning of the gears as he tried to determine an appropriate response.

There was no doubt by that point.

Honey bunny!

But then it was over. Your influence was lost, your snag undone. Realization, coupled with recognition, returned to All Might. The dumbfound fell away, a cruel smile taking its place as he easily slid back into his usual bluster.

He would not backtrack, he would not try and play off his bewilderment.

He’d push forward.

All Might tilted his head to the side, peering down at you like a Tyrannosaur eyeing something worth eating.

An electric blue eye had you in its sight.

“Darling,” he purred, voice dangerous molasses. “That was a mistake.”

And then, you were tossed over his shoulder.

Your laughter ebbed away into giddy apprehension, a feeling that only grew when you were tossed down onto your still-broken bed -- All Might’s figure ever imposing as he loomed above you. Again, you reached up toward him but he smacked your hands away, done with falling into your little… tricks.

“Will you take your shirt off?”

God dammit.

“Stop talking,” he growled, kneeling and leaning over you.

“Please?”

He snorted a sharp laugh, glaring at your face as he dug an arm under your back, hoisting your body against his chest. The other braced against the mattress.

“I really want--”

You were silenced by his mouth.

As you suspected, it was a bruising kind of kiss -- lips and teeth clamped against you, leaving you to wince and instinctively flinch away from the hurt. But he had you pressed tightly against him in a grip that you weren’t getting out of.

He was displeased with you and was making it known.

Though obviously, he wasn’t mad enough to leave.

Large fingers began fumbling with the buttons of your blouse and you tried to pull away, afraid of what he could do to your nice shirt. He released your mouth -- your lips already felt heavy and swollen -- as your hands brushed against his to take their place.

Pleased, he lowered you on the bed, sitting back on his knees as he watched your fingers work to unfasten each button, blouse falling more open the lower you traveled on your torso. Unfortunately, he was not rewarded with a peek of flesh or your bra -- beneath your blouse was another shirt, a camisole you had worn due to the lightness of the fabric. Impatience nipped at the back of his neck; he had to smother the urge just to tear everything of you.

Once your blouse was safely removed from your body and tossed aside, he jumped in to assist, quickly tugging your cami off. Finally, he mashed his hands against your contained chest, face glinting with approval as he took in the sight of the black lace bra you had worn beneath your layers.

You were going to mention his shirt again but he was pushing you back, his hand trailing up your stocking leg.

“I do like the outfit, sweetheart,” he said. Black bra, black skirt and black stockings -- solid choices. His hand stopped beneath your skirt, settling against your hip. “You don’t look so... homeless.”

“Do I usually look homeless?” you asked, brows raising. Sure most of your go-to outfits weren’t business casual, but they were at least casual --

Instead of responding, he pressed you against his chest and rolled over on his back so you were laying across him. A hand on the back of your head pressed your face down to his -- hard lips mashing into yours as your hair brushed against his face. It was a much softer kiss than before, immediately you relaxed, hands returning to cup his cheeks while his arms wrapped around your body, squeezing and crushing.

Something flipped up the back of your skirt -- a rough hand was burrowing beneath the waistline of your stockings, carefully slithering under the delicate fabric to grab a handful of ass. 

A possessive touch.

You enjoyed it.

He was changing the kiss, increasing the intensity. Captured lips, searching tongue. Knocking teeth, soft clicking. Nipping and biting. A soft gasp.

The gasp was what he wanted. He chuckled, nuzzling his nose against yours when he broke the liplock.

“Be a good girl and take off my pants,” he said, stretching the fabric of your stockings so he could raise his hand and deliver a quick slap to your ass. You inhaled sharply at the contact, but he was unwrapping himself from you, pushing you to sit up on his torso.

“Only if you take your shirt off.”

“I don’t think you should be making demands tonight,” he said, keeping the same self-satisfied face, though his tone was considerably harsher. You returned his gaze, disappointed... but accepting.

Fine.

It seemed cruel to push.

You ended up scooting down to sit on his thighs, ignoring his leering face as he watched you. A strange lump of anxiety swelled in your throat as you gazed down at his crotch, aware of what lurked beneath the fabric. Inwardly you wanted to shake yourself -- you were treating his dick like it was some kind of anaconda ready to strike. You shouldn’t feel the way you did but…

It was big.

You removed his belt first, listening as it landed with a metallic thud on the hardwood floor of your bedroom. You hadn't been watching where you tossed it -- your eyes were on the top buttons of his cargo pants. They weren’t your pants, you saw, hand brushing against his thick thigh to feel the cheap material. You felt his body momentarily tense under your touch.

Why were you so nervous?

His inferior pants were heavy, you noted after you unbuttoned and unzipped him, doing your best to tug them off his hips. He offered some assistance by slowly raising his lower body off the bed, giving you enough room to roll his bottoms down to his knees.

“All the way off,” he commanded, one arm behind his head, the other resting across his belly. Lounging. You rolled your eyes at him but did as you were told -- pulling and rolling the pants entirely off his body. You pushed and shoved them out of the way, watching as they fell pathetically a couple of inches to the floor.

“So, sweetheart, are you going to take all of me again, tonight?” he asked, brow raising in a teasing smirk.

But your uneasy face wasn’t particularly appealing. He had expected something a little more... bashful.

He was frowning again.

“It was kind of… a tight fit… last time,” you muttered. 

‘That was what it was,’ you realized with a sense of relief, your voice somehow combing through your thoughts faster than your brain could. It wasn’t particularly… pleasurable for you, the first time. And toughing through another bout of uncomfortableness for the chance at reaching one comparatively weak orgasm didn’t seem particularly worth it.

Everything else about the sex part was kind of nice, though. The closeness. Being with him.

“Well, you jumped on me last time,” All Might said with a snort. “Straddled me before I had the chance to get you ready.”

“Get me ready?”

“You have to be prepped to accept men like me,” All Might crooned, his grin returning. His explanation did nothing to change your expression and he sat up, hands resting on your straddling legs. “I’ll have you singing tonight, darling. Promise.”

“A villain’s promise probably isn’t worth much,” you mumbled back. “And didn’t you just threaten me? ‘You made a mistake,’” you repeated in your best All Might impression. He seemed nonplussed -- probably because his pants were off and you were sitting in close proximity to his crotch.

“I’m in a forgiving mood.”

“Oh? So I can call you honey bunny?” you teased, expecting him to return to dourness. His grin increased in ferocity, teeth taking on a more pointed appearance.

“You can call me whatever you want,” he replied, reaching out to take your hand and place it on his mostly-soft crotch. “As long as I get to fuck you.”

Of course.

“I’m putting a lot of trust in you,” you said softly.

Inwardly, however, a scheme was brewing in your mind. You'd push through your hesitancy, so long as you could make his push through his.

“Have I steered you wrong before?” He was inching closer, pleased at feeling like the strong one. Put your trust in him, as you said. Let him take control. He wouldn't steer you wrong.

“Can I ask a favor though?”

“Hm…?”

“Take off your shirt.”

He scoffed and was prepared to say something rough, but you had started rubbing him through the fabric of his blue underwear. He kept silent. At the touch, a prickling of pleasure appeared in his body as your hand went to work coaxing his member awake.

“Please?”

“You ruined it last time,” he grumbled, almost petulantly.

Two hands then.

“I was surprised, that’s all,” you said, rubbing his growing bulge before rolling down the front of his boxer-briefs. There was no point in teasing him, you wanted something so you quickly moved to touching him directly. Holding his gaze, you spat on your hands, handling his cock as if it were some kind of roaming snake -- one hand caressing his length while the other followed closely behind.

“Please?”

“I don’t like being gawked at,” he snarled.

You repositioned yourself further down his legs so you could lay over his body, face coming to a rest next to his cock. His jaw clenched.

“I want to see you,” you said softly, placing a kiss against his hardening shaft. “You have such a beautiful body. Please let me see it.”

His jaw shifted.

All Might honestly expected the worst from you. You had already burned him once before, though it had been unintentional. Still, driven by his libido, he did what he was asked -- he pulled his shirt off, setting it beside him on the bed. He was confrontational when his eyes returned to you. But you made no acknowledgment of his undressing, you simply continued to lick and kiss his cock, working it to hardness.

The most you did place a hand just above his groin, caressing his skin.

“Much better,” you hummed against him, his shaft twitching in your hands at the vibrations.

It was hard for him to stay on edge about his bare chest with you stroking and loving his cock. Eventually, his body relaxed and he lowered himself back on the mattress, staring at the ceiling while you continued to work.

“You’re letting your hair grow out,” you mused, lightly scratching at the stubble of his balls.

“I’ve been… busy,” came the rumbled response. You looked up to his face but his eyes were still trained on the ceiling.

Taking a chance, you looked over his scar.

“I like the hair,” you said, noticing the almost flower-like pattern his deformity held.

He chuckled.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

You shot an unseen smile up at him, moving to mouth and cup his sizable balls, enjoying the way they felt so heavy and warm in your hands. As you littered them with suckling kisses, you watched All Might snake a hand down, gingerly resting it in your hair.

So, you were on your second All Might blowjob. You returned to stroking him, one hand pumping after the other as your mouth remained on his testicles. The hand in your hair gripped tighter and you made a mental note to ask how the first compared.

“Spit,” he commanded, propping himself up on his free arm to finally look down at you. “You need more spit.”

You did as he said, returning to his shaft and doing your best to coat his considerable endowment with saliva.  

“More,” he demanded.

There’s only so much spit a person can make!

Eventually, you got his cock to an acceptable level of slickness -- your hands were gliding across his shaft, tongue messily swirling around the tip.

“Have your hands do the same motion.” He had taken on the role of instructor. You obeyed, gripping as much of his shaft as you could, pumping up and down uniformly. He wasn’t finished though. “Right under the head…” You pressed your tongue on the underside the head of his cock -- a curled lip flashed across his face. “Right there, kitten. Pay attention right there.”

He was watching you, breathing heavily through his mouth as you tongued and kissed the junction where his cockhead and shaft met. Apparently it was a major erogenous zone; it didn’t take long before his breathing was getting harsher and his legs were clenching around you. You paused to lick at the steady beading of precum before slowly spitting it out, watching it trail down his shaft.

“Now, suck the--”

He didn’t have to finish. Recalling what you did last time, you engulfed the head of his cock in your mouth, tongue drawing shapes as you pumped his shaft steadily.

“That’s it,” he grumbled, pushing down instinctively on your head only to catch himself. That was about how much cock you could take in your mouth -- a downside to his girth.

His reactions were growing much more noticeable. You picked up the speed of your hands and adding sucking to the actions to your tonguing. So he was planning on finishing in your mouth? You assumed there would be more as he was always quick to point out he could go for ‘rounds’--

“Fuck, kitten,” he hissed before your world shifted. In some freakishly quick movements that you barely registered, he picked you up and flipped you on your back while he straddled you, knees on either side of your shoulders.

That was a sight -- the enormity of a naked All Might, kneeling above you, furiously stroking his dick, blue eyes piercing yours. Sure it made your gut squeeze in the best way seeing him working himself into a frenzy but it was also nerve-wracking. He was massive. Everything about him was massive -- hands, forearms, thighs, cock, balls. Everything swinging over or resting on your body. If he sat on you, he could kill you. 

The sight had been burned into you brain. It was probably one of your most arousing experiences to date.

Wait, was he going to…

“Fuck," he hissed again, vein bulging in his neck as he continued his rapid pumping. “Take it--”

The first heap of cum struck your chin and you flinched, only for the rest to come oozing out of his cock, coating your face and chest with thick white. He was biting his lip as he unloaded on you, greedily watching his seed decorate your face.

Eventually the slow, but copious, stream ended and you were left frowning up at him.

“Darling, you’ve never looked prettier,” All Might said with a slight strain, tapping the side of your face. “Coated in my cum? What a beautiful sight.”

“A warning would have been nice,” you said dryly.

“Oh, were you looking forward to swallowing my cum? You were eager to do it last time. Here…” With one hand he forced your jaw open, using his thumb to scoop a sizable amount of jizz into your mouth. Not prepared, you grimaced and gagged, but a low warning from him compelled you to swallow the warm saltiness.

“Want more?” he asked. You went to glare up at him but fell short of his face; your eyes were taking in the sight of his chest. 

You couldn’t help it, your eyes landed on his scar. He knew where you were looking. With an irritated snort, he was gone from overtop of you, standing next to the bed.

“Where are you going?”

You didn’t mean to sound so panicked, but you were worried he had been insulted again, that he was going to leave. You hadn't meant to look so brazenly, his scar was just hard to ignore. Upon hearing the state of your voice he looked down at you questioningly.

“To get you a towel, sweetheart,” he said, dryly. “Unless you want to have my cum dripping everywhere. I wouldn’t mind but it is your bed. You’ll have to sleep in it.”

Well... okay.

“Grab one of the white ones,” you muttered, ignoring the humored expression that brewed thanks to your outburst. Could you really be blamed, though? The man was prone to running off after finishing anything sexual with you.

He did return minutes later, blue towel in one hand and bottle of lube in the other.

Lube.

You had tossed it on your bathroom shelf after cleaning your kitchen after his last visit. Apparently, he had done some snooping.

“I said a white towel,” you groaned as he tossed the blue one on your face.

And it touched cum.

“You’re still on the pill, right sweetheart?” he asked, rolling his shoulders, acting as if he was preparing to lift weights at the gym. You glared at him and what you assumed was his showboating.

“... Yes.”

He made an approving sound, snatching the towel out of your hands when you had gotten most of his cum off your body -- he didn’t want you cleaned off entirely. That would have defeated the purpose of finishing on your face. The mattress complained when he sank back onto it, laying so that he was on his back again and you were on his chest.

For someone who craved being dominant, he was eager about having you on top of him.

“You’ll like this,” he said, bearing his teeth slightly in a calculating smile, telling you to sit up on your knees. With heavy hands, you were being pulled over his head--

Oh god, he wanted you to sit on his face.

“Weight on your knees,” he commanded. Your mouth felt dry, excitement burying itself in your gut. You've never... sat on someone's face before but it had always been something you daydreamed about. Having someone as big and strong as All Might feasting on you, holding you against him...

You looked down to take in the sight of his face between your legs, but most of it was hidden by your skirt, which you needed to take off--

“You should wear stockings more often,” All Might crooned, rubbing his hidden cheek against your inner thigh, savoring the way the fabric felt against his skin. “They look good on you.”

With All Might, you knew good things didn't last very long. You frowned down at him.

“You’re going to ruin them, aren’t you?”

Though he couldn't see your expression, the defeated tone of your voice made his face light up. It was... enjoyable how much power you freely handed over to him, whether you realized it or not. You could have put up a fight to save your tights, but you didn't -- you had already accepted that he was going to ruin them. Just like the pillow. Had you truly wanted your pillow back, if it was really so important to you, would you not have fought for it? 

His hand brushed against your leg.

“I’ll be ruining a lot of things tonight," he growled.

You wanted to groan at his lame line, but the sound of tearing distracted you. You felt nothing by your crotch -- he had made a sizable hole in your tights, ruining them in one quick swipe.

You felt his mouth landing on a bare portion of thigh. His arms wrapped around your legs, locking you in place.

Like a roller coaster.

All Might surprised you by promptly nosing the damp seat of your panties, a break from his usual procedure. Your body attempted to jump away from the unexpected contact but you were unable to move.

“Looks like sucking my cock got you wet,” he crooned. You met his eyes as he peeked up at you, shifting your skirt partly out of the way. You swallowed, unwilling to say anything.

Not that it mattered, he didn’t require a response from you.

As he normally did, he inhaled loud enough that you were sure to hear him, body rumbling in approval at the scent of your sex. Lightly, you chewed on your bottom lip, stomach already clenching preemptively, eagerly looking forward to the pleasure that was going to strike you.

And then you felt it -- his thick tongue pressing against your underwear, digging into your covered slit.

It was your turn to shudder, heading lolling as you tried to ground against him. You were being greedy, you wanted him to dive right in and get to the good part.

But this was All Might.

His tongue traced the edge of your panties, slipping beneath the damp fabric, grazing your slit directly.

Maybe he would indulge you…

He was pushing it in deeper, parting you slightly, the tip of his tongue teasing your folds--

All Might pulled away, laughing when he heard your disgruntled cry ring out above him. No, he couldn’t move to the main course without paying the best part of your body any mind. He placed a consolatory kiss on your crotch before turning his head, returning his attention to your inner thighs. Though he couldn’t see them properly thanks to your skirt blocking out most of the light, he assumed his previous marks still lingered and blemished your skin.

But it had been what, two weeks since his last visit?

The fading ones needed replacement.

It was a strange sensation, knowing All Might was between your legs but not being able to see what he was doing. You knew his head was turned -- the bangs poking out from beneath your skirt gave away the position of his face, plus you could feel his breath against your skin, so you weren’t too surprised when you felt a wet tongue pressing against you.

A roaming tongue. Soft kisses. Open-mouthed kisses. Sucking kisses. All leading toward--

Teeth.

You inhaled sharply when you felt his first nip, rolling your hips to try and get away and, maybe, guide his attention back to your cunt. Like a shark’s fin slicing through the water, you watched his bangs flip from facing one thigh to the other, giving you time to prepare before the next bite landed.

“Next time I’m going to bite your thighs,” you groaned as his tongue stroked sore skin. "See how you like it."

“I’d pay to see that,” came the muffled reply. You weren’t quite sure what he meant and didn’t bother asking -- he was back nosing your crotch again. “Be a doll,” he purred against your sex. “Come hold this aside.”

‘This’ being your panties.

Of course you did what he asked, reaching beneath your skirt to bare yourself to him, illuminating everything that had been covered.

And revealing his eyes.

“Good girl.”

It wasn’t long before you were mewling and straining above him, his expert tongue unraveling you. His gaze was fixated on you, watching as you twisted and turned your head from side-to-side, eyes squeezed closed.

You were so reactive.

“Look at me,” he rumbled when you leaned forward, your first orgasm broaching your horizon. Through half-lidded eyes, you returned his gaze, mouth falling open when he picked that moment to vigorously rub his tongue against your clit.

You released a loud, shuddering breath when the train struck and your climax was reached, hips jerking while All Might continued his assault against your too-sensitive nub. You tried to get away, an almost-pained expression gracing your face, but you were trapped.

“Stop!” you cried out, resting your hands in his hair as you leaned closer down to him, ignoring the difficulty in breathing at having your body at such a hard angle.

He did stop -- when your forehead pressed against the top of his head, he titled his face up to catch you in a kiss.

“You’re an asshole,” you groaned against him, tasting yourself on his lips. He smiled.

“Back to the old names?”

“Maybe.”

When breathing became too uncomfortably labored, you sat straight once more. Having given you one orgasm with just his mouth, he introduced his fingers next, as you expected, slurping on them loudly for your pleasure before pressing the first digit into you. Long and thick. Perfect.

The grip his arms had on your legs never wavered.

As soon as the finger buried itself in you, he was stroking and prodding your walls, searching for the spot that would make you sing for him. You whined at how quickly he was moving -- he should ease into things like that! Not plow forward! Unfortunately for you, he found it almost immediately and you jerked against his touch.

Had he remembered?

“Ah!” the whimper escaped you as you felt your gut twist. “Please, stop! Stop! No. Right there. Please.”

He had been placing kisses along your leg but stopped at hearing you, grin appearing.

“Well, what is it?” he asked, faux-sweetly. “Should I stop? Or…?”

“Don’t stop,” you hissed, glaring at him before your face contorted -- another finger was being added. Another perfectly large and rough digit splitting you. Resting your palms over your eyes, your hips worked to meet the steady pumping of his hand. 

What a beautiful sight.

“Still worried about taking my cock?” he asked. You nodded your head, eyes still covered, and he 'tsked' at your quitting attitude. “Don’t worry, darling. It’s going to slide right in tonight.”

You nodded your head for him, signaling you were at least willing to try, your whimpering growing louder when he started curling and scissoring his fingers in and out of your slick cunt.

And then a third.

“Ah, fuck!” you groaned, teeth clenching as your brows furrowed in a pleasured grimace. Had he used three fingers on you before? Scissoring, pumping and curling -- he was pure magic when it came to pleasing you. He knew exactly what to do in order to leave you a panting mess. And he took pride in it.

“That’s it,” he growled, taking a sizable chunk of your thigh between his teeth, though he did not bite down. He just liked the feel of it. You did too. At feeling his rough hold, you leaned down again, peppering kisses against his forehead.

“Too good. You’re too fucking good.”

He grunted at your praise, releasing your leg in order to rope you into another kiss, though it was hard for you to reciprocate. The twisting of your gut had been pulled too tautly and your nerves had reached a fever pitch. All you could do was bleat and gasp against his demanding, hungry mouth.

You were holding your breath, he noticed.

So he increased his ministrations.

When you climax struck you again, he could feel it everywhere -- the clenching of your cunt around his fingers, the spasming and bucking of your hips, the gasping grimace of your face against his.

It had been strong, you could have sworn you saw stars dancing behind your eyes. Aftershocks were darting across your body, the muscles in your stomach and legs randomly vibrating. What you needed was time to breathe. But All Might wasn’t going to give you the time you desired after such a climax -- he was hard again and you were ready.

“Want me now, beautiful?” he asked, voice rough, guiding you onto your back.

Beautiful?

Beautiful.

Actually, you could probably go another round.

A smile split your face and you laughed, reaching up toward him. He seized your hand, kissing the knuckles, eyes watching you.

“I always want you.”

Your tattered stockings were tossed aside, as was your underwear and skirt. You heard the squirting of what you assumed to be lube, your suspicions confirmed when thick, slickened fingers stroked your already wet sex. You were rubbing your face as you waited; your state of bliss left your limbs and mind feeling almost fuzzy.

Your lower body was being lifted off the bed as All Might worked to align himself with your entrance, rubbing the round, fat head of his cock up and down your waiting cunt. You mewled as you curled your toes, bracing yourself for the uncomfortableness--

“Stop tensing,” he growled as he continued to rub his member against you. You smiled sadly up at him.

“I can’t help it.”

“It’ll be… better. This time,” he said, squeezing your hip reassuringly as he started his push in. Like before, he was methodical when it came to easing you to accept him -- shallow thrusts in and out to start with. You felt his head pop inside you, pushing deeper before being pulled back to the entrance.

In and out. In and out.

He was right -- it was better. There was a stretch, yes. There was no denying the stretch. But it was… a sensation. Not pleasure but not pain either. Just a different kind of feeling.

“That’s it,” he said, sinking ever deeper. You made a sound, he was starting to hit a point that hadn’t been reached by his fingers. “That’s it, good girl. That's it.”

You wanted to remind him you weren’t some kind of spooked horse that needed soft reassurance but then he pressed in deeper and your mouth fell open in a quiet cry.

The pressure was back.

You didn’t like the pressure.

All Might must have been keeping an eye on your reactions; immediately he pulled back and the uncomfortable feeling eased.

“Look how much you’ve taken,” he purred, working to distract you. You looked up -- your hips were above your head thanks to his angle -- and marveled how something so large could fit inside you. You weren’t taking all of him, sure, but you were damn close.

"How did you get so big?" you groaned up at him. He laughed, lowering himself over you in a missionary position, careful not to break your joining. You pressed your forehead against his chest.

And then the thrusting started in earnest.

You gasped, jerking beneath him each time he drove himself inside you, stopping just short of entering you completely. It was better than before and you were thankful for that -- with no uncomfortableness or pain sullying the experience, you allowed the apprehension in your body to melt away.

Actual enjoyment.

Your touch was roaming, hands caressing All Might's body before a curious palm was pressing against his scar.

His rhythm faltered slightly and he grabbed for your hand.

“Don’t,” he hissed but you had yanked it away before he could grab hold of it.

“No,” you said resolutely, kissing his chest, tasting the salt of his sweat. “I need to touch it. If you’re going to fuck me, you’re going to have to let me touch it.”

He stopped, mid-thrust.

“If you don’t stop,” he said, voice oddly calm. “I will.”

You pressed a hand against the ruined flesh in defiance, face nuzzling against him.

“I adore everything about you, including this. Please.”

No one had ever pushed it that far with him. Ever since receiving his injury, All Might's sexual encounters had been few and far between -- a shadow of what he once was like. Most times, he opted to keep his shirt on and chest covered as it was simply easier. If he did end up removing his shirt, his partners were always smart enough not to bring attention to the grotesque wound or push their luck when he told them to leave it alone.

But then there was you.

You.

You had a nice touch.

Slowly, his thrusting resumed and he allowed your hand to remain pressed against his ruined side. His bad side.

“Thank you.”

He heard your soft murmur and clenched a fist in your sheets, doing his best to ignore the sickly warm feeling creeping up his spine.

No.

Sex.

Focus on the sex.

All Might’s pace veered a little rougher as he tried to mentally realign himself. You gasped -- you felt like you were literally being fucked into the mattress. Your bed was jittering across the floor, edge of the frame slamming against your wall. Could your neighbors hear? What a mess you were. The upstairs neighbor up all hours of the night, with your busted front door, being plowed by a villain. 

Not just any villain.

All Might.

Your head fell back on the bed. Your hand was following the ragged curves of his scar, feeling the uneven and crumbled skin. Truthfully, you really wanted to examine it in earnest. You wanted to trace each line, ask about the story behind it.

A rough lurch into you made you cry out. It was followed by another. Then another.

Unbeknownst to you, it had been your touch that had further worked the man about you into a frenzy. He felt you remove your hand from his side, though it was only so you could work your clit.

A familiar buildup was starting in your core again.

“Ah--!” you shifted beneath him, tongue suddenly feeling too big and heavy. “All M-Might--!”

Pride bubbled in his chest, pleased at the way you were cawing his name. He could feel your hand rubbing wildly down by your joining, bringing yourself closer to the edge. He pushed back off the bed, wrapping his arms under your legs as he sat on his knees, your hips hoisted up with him.

That’s when you felt it -- your body clenched when his cock suddenly stroking against that one, good spot.

“Oh fuck. Right there, baby, right there,” you said, clenching a sheet in your free hand as your other continued to work your clit.

“Yeah, you like that?” he snarled down at you, lust panting his face wild. You couldn’t look at him, your head was digging deeper into the bed, body seizing and toes curling as you desperately raced for the finish line.

“Oh god, please,” you babbled and All Might listened. He tilted your hips down a bit more, so the continuing pressure and stroking against your sweet spot only increased.

And that’s exactly what you needed to cum.

You gasped, attempting to curl into yourself as you felt what must have been your soul convulsing. While you were distracted with pleasure, writhing and mewling beneath him, All Might took the opportunity to embed himself fully into you, grunting as he felt your walls clench and massage his cock, trying to milk him.

With a ragged swallow, he powered through your waves, fucking you as he worked to keep the pressure in his gut from getting too out of hand.

But he was close.

You were panting and whining but had yet to acknowledge any sort of discomfort at taking his entire length.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he grunted, slamming into you, watching your body shudder and jiggle at each impact, hearing and feeling his balls swinging and slapping against the crest of your ass. 

“You’re… god, you're just so… sexy," you mumbled back.

His grin increased in size as he caught your almost-dreamy expression -- you were watching his body flex and shine while he fucked you.

Such a perfect body.

While you were mostly mellowing out, he was working himself to his peak, and cracks were beginning to show.

“Like getting fucked by All Might?” he asked, red starting to stain his neck. You nodded in affirmation and his grin turned to a snarl, face going sharp. “When you go to work with those heroes...” he swallowed, a tightness appearing in his gut. “I want you to remember my cum all over your face, remember me filling you up.”

“I will," you promised.

“They have no idea… All Might’s girl… working right under their noses.”

All Might’s girl.

“No idea,” you repeated, stroking the arm he had braced beside your body on the bed as his thrusts began to fall out of rhythm. His face was screwed up in concentration, sweat beading across his chest as he resisted the urge to lose control and shatter everything in you.

All Might’s girl.

You were All Might’s girl.

With a strangled growl he impaled himself in you, hips jerking against your body as he unloaded inside. You watched his heavy, open-mouth pants as he worked through each of his waves, feeling the warmth pooling in your gut. He was filling you entirely -- so much so that excess was starting to push out from around his cock, having nowhere else to go but out.

He stayed buried in you, relishing in the vice grip your cunt had, while he caught his breath. When he did pull out, he did it slowly, making sure your hips were still tilted up to prevent any spillage.

He wanted you to keep his seed for a little bit longer.

Unfortunately, you both couldn't lie like that forever. Your back began to complain of the angle and All Might wanted to feel you against him, pleased with how well your showing had been. When your hips were finally lowered back to the mattress, you were glad to have a towel handy so that the steady stream of All Might's cum leaking from your opening was not collecting and staining on your sheets.

Speaking of All Might --

The man was laid out beside you, lazily scratching at his chin, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“Good?” he asked, catching your eye, though he already knew the answer. You looked up to the ceiling, tilting your head in consideration.

“It wasn’t bad,” you teased, only to try and escape when All Might grabbed for you. “No my sheets, I don’t want to get my sheets dirty!”

You managed to evade his selfish grasp, carefully holding the already-dirty towel beneath you as you shuffled to the bathroom to clean up, stopping at your drawers along the way to grab some clothing.

All Might eyed the black shirt waiting for him on your bed. One he had kept nearby on purpose.

She 'adores' everything about you.

He shifted his jaw in consideration.

When you returned a couple minutes later, you felt tremendously cleaner and had thrown on an oversized shirt and new underwear. You wasted no time in returning to bed, straddling All Might’s still-nude body as your hands stroked and rubbed his sculpted, perfect chest.

“Be careful,” he warned with smug satisfaction, your appreciative touch equalling pacifying and provoking him. Ignoring his gluttony, you tangled your fingers in his hair as you leaned down to kiss him.

“You were good,” you murmured against his mouth, feeling them twitch upward. The kiss was slow, just soft lip grasping that ended when you leaned your forehead against his, taking a moment to enjoy his presence. He didn’t respond or grab you, but when you rolled off of him, his arm wrapped around your shoulder to press you into his chest.

No, he wanted you to stay for a bit.

So you did.

You both laid quietly next to one another, All Might staring up at the ceiling while you traced the curves and bumps of muscles that you didn’t even know the names of.

Then, you muttered a name.

All Might shifted and grunted -- tilting his head toward you, signifying he hadn’t been paying attention to what you said. You repeated the name.

“What about them?”

You rolled your eyes.

“It’s me," you said. You could tell he still didn’t understand and you sighed, poking him lightly. “That’s my name.”

Your name.

You had told him your name.

All Might had not been expecting that.

He knew your name. He shifted, thoughts jumbling.

"You have an ugly name. I see why you go by Artisan.”

You groaned, unhappy with his retort to what had been something big you had been building up to. But you were unable to push away from him as he had you locked by his side.

No, he didn't want you to leave let.

Silence.

He knew your name.

He liked your name.

Meanwhile, all you felt was a wall. 

Nothing?

Was he... really not going to share?

“Are you going to tell me your name?” you went so far as to ask. He shifted and grumbled, feigning irritation that you weren't going to let the subject drop. He thought he made it clear he had no intention of giving you that.

“You already know my name.”

That was a poor response. You know he didn't come out of the womb with a name like All Might. 

“So your driver’s license says All Might on it?” you asked dryly. 

“What makes you think I have a driver’s license?”

Well, he got you there. You fell quiet, frowning as you looked off into space. At some point in his life, All Might had a name. He had been a normal boy. He had a mother. A family. Was it crazy that you were so… disappointed? You wanted something as equally important from him. An actual name. His true name.

All MIght’s girl.

But at least you had a designation, the disappointment falling away as quickly as it appeared.

All MIght’s girl.

All Might’s girl and Artisan’s man.

What a dynamic duo.

“I’m going away next week. Won’t be back for a couple weeks.” His steady voice sliced through your thoughts, tone flat as if the information he was sharing was not a big deal. It wasn't. But your face fell and you shifted to look up at him.

“Couple of weeks?” you reiterated, more surprised than you should have been.

“Doing a loop through southern Japan, before the fall hits. I’ll be back by the end of the month.”

Considering your relationship was filled gaps of inactivity, his announcement of a trip shouldn’t have made you as unhappy as it did. But it felt… worse, this time.

“Well…” you swallowed, doing your best to beat down your emotional response. “Bring me back a souvenir.”

All Might was staring at you, reading your face. When it became clear you planned on saying nothing more, he scratched his chin.

“We’ll see.”

You sighed against him, closing your eyes when you felt too-large fingers gently comb and pull at your hair. Someone was shouting outside -- their voice carried on the crisp breeze that floated in through your open windows. Autumn was coming. You looked forward to the cooler weather.

“I want you to stay,” you found yourself admitting to All Might. You didn't bother clarifying what you meant by staying -- whether it was the night or refraining from going on such a long trip. It didn't matter, both were true.

And All Might found himself snorting softly at your declaration.

“I know.”

“But you won’t.”

“I won’t.”

The man outside was still shouting, though his words were being jumbled by the echoes bouncing from tightly-packed buildings. And the crickets. Your brain moved beyond the shouting, recognizing the trilling soundtrack that was playing in the background. The summer sounds of hundreds of crickets crying their songs into the night. Songs that would disappear as the weeks wore on.

“One day I won’t come back.”

Your heart jumped into your throat, poetic thoughts about crickets crushed beneath the foot of All Might's reality. He was looking over toward the window, as if he had been following along with your thoughts, the hand in your hair coming to a rest against your scalp.

“Remember that, kitten. I'll leave one day. So don’t get--”

“Stop.” You were sitting up, holding a hand up to silence him. No. Not tonight. “Stop. No. No future talk. Let’s just… One day at a time, okay? Just… one day at a time.”

No.

You weren’t ready to address the understanding that cast a shadow over every interaction you had with All Might. The silent truth.

That everything you had with him, everything you had built up -- it was all temporary.

There was no future with All Might.

Why would he bring that up!? Of all moments, why now!?

He was already forcing you to settle back down on the bed. He was turning and settling himself against your side, arm draped over your torso while you stared up at the cracking white paint of your ceiling. You felt the breath of his nose by your ear as buried his face into the crook of your neck, drinking your familiar smell. The scent he liked.

It was all temporary.

“I’ll take care of the door, sweetheart. And the bed.”

Was he apologizing for ruining your night? You weren’t sure.

You rested a hand on top of his, your fingers sliding between his large ones.

One day at a time.

Chapter Text

The invite came a good month before Halloween. A longtime acquaintance of yours was throwing a Halloween bash at a dance club in Roppongi and you were invited. Most of your friends were going, which made accepting the party invite a lot easier. There would be drinks, dancing and of course, costumes.

There was no getting around the costume -- it was required to attend. It actually said so plainly on the back and orange invite.

The topic of the party came up a few weeks later while you were talking to Yume on the phone. It was a weekly tradition between you two, calling each other and watching new episodes of the ‘Real Housewives of Tokyo’ together -- a terrible reality show that had ensnared the both of you with its overblown personal plotlines and hints of glamor.

“What are you going as?” you asked her during a commercial break, holding your cell phone against your shoulder while you attempted to scratch an itch on your ankle. You heard shuffling followed by a sigh.

“I haven’t decided yet. Maybe a scientist or something.”

“Aw come on, you can’t be a scientist! That’s a cop out!”

“No, it’s smart. I own everything already,” she said, a laugh buried in her voice. “It’ll be easy. Maybe I’ll make it sexy.”

“A sexy scientist?

“Yes, proper Halloween style. What about you?”

“I was thinking… a pumpkin.”

Yume’s laughter erupted at that -- you could hear her phone chafing against the side of her face as she shook.

“A pumpkin,” he said. “A sexy pumpkin or--?”

“Nope, just a regular pumpkin. Like one of the foam ones that kids wear. I saw an adult one and I might get it.”

Again, laughter.

“A sexy scientist and a pumpkin,” she was calming down; the commercials were over, the show was back. “What a duo we’ll be.”

“We can be like Frankenstein and his monster!” you added with your own laugh, a backstory already forming in your head.

Her giggles started up again.

Twenty minutes after the show finished airing, you finally hung up with Yume after all your friend-drama talking points had been exhausted. After washing your face and finishing all the other little habits that composed your bedtime routine, you settled under the sheets and boredly began browsing through your phone.

You ended up on a costume website, looking through their options, trying to find something that spoke to you. They did have a pumpkin outfit, which you added to your cart immediately, but nothing else really sparked your interest.

Well. One thing did.

The name of the costume caught your attention, everything else just sort of fell into place.

It was... too good to pass up.

You ended up ordering both costumes.

The night before the party, All Might texted you.

‘I’m coming over tomorrow,’ he had written.

‘No you’re not,’ you replied.

Although part of you wanted to leave the conversation like that, you ended up wimping out and sending a follow-up text on why he couldn’t visit. You were going to Roppongi for the night.

You were surprised when you, very quickly, received another response from him asking what you planned on doing there. You told him the name of the club where the party was at and set your phone down, figuring that was that.

Immediately, it went off again.

‘What time were you going there?’

You told him.

You watched a grey chat bubble appear on the screen of your conversation. He was typing.

‘What train were you taking?’

You told him.

‘Ok,’ was the last thing he wrote before the conversation stopped. You frowned, concerned over how the conversation had flowed. He was asking such specific details, surely he wasn't...

No. No, he wouldn't do that. He probably wants to come after.

You heard nothing more from All Might that night nor the next day. Faced with a decision, you opted to save the pumpkin costume for another year as you had the strangest feeling you were going to get a visitor later in the night. And your other costume, you loathed to admit, was kind of for him.

A couple hours later, you arrived at the Roppongi station, glad to see you weren’t the only one traveling out and about fully-decked out in Halloween attire. Your outfit was something simple, nothing compared the expensive toil that other people had created or purchased. You watched a woman in an intricate mecha suit walk around you, typing away furiously on a cellphone. But a low-effort bedsheet ghost also passed and suddenly you didn’t feel so bad about yourself anymore.

The location of the party was quite a few blocks walk from the station. You were on your phone, checking for the latest updates on arrivals of the people you really cared about: Yume was still getting ready and wouldn’t get there until later, as was Minori, but that was unsurprising. With your two close friends running late, you were in no real rush to head over. 

Fashionably late and all, right?

You were texting Minori when you bumped into a large person who stepped out in front of you. Looking up, you were ready to apologize for your--

No.

“Hey there, sweetheart.”

There he was standing at the bottom of the stairs out of the station in all his infernal glory.

All Might.

It was undeniable -- the roughness of his voice and the way he said his nickname for you -- this was no imposter. He was dressed in his villain outfit, complete with his signature gasmask. It had been a while since you had seen it in person; you noticed a slight crack in the left eye socket that was pushing the entire orange LED panel out of alignment--

NO.

“All Might!” You physically hunkered down, acting as if snipers were trained on your location and taking aim. “All Might!”

“Calm down would you,” he said. "It's fine." It was then he noticed a few gawkers off to the side, talking amongst each other as they attempted to sneak a picture of him. Horrified, you watch him lift and flex one of his massive arms, putting on a show for his 'fans.' Having been caught, they fell into an embarrassed, but thankful, chitter.

“Stop it!” you grabbed his hand, trying to pull him away from such a crowded place, his showboating making your blood run cold. “Come on, someone will catch you!”

“Catch me?” he laughed, shaking his head but otherwise allowing you to lead him away. He gave a small, finger-wiggling goodbye wave to his fans. “Like anyone could.”

You stopped about a block away from train station, eyeing the steady stream of people passing by the street you had ducked down.

No, you didn’t like it. You didn’t like it one bit.

“Why are you here? This is dangerous !” There was obvious worry on your face that he took such delight in. The dangerous bit he wasn't thrilled about, however. He was unstoppable, why were you so concerned about him getting apprehended. It was out of the realm of possibilty. 

“It’s Halloween,” he said flippantly. “I’ve done this for years.”

“What if you get into a fight or--”

“Hm, so you picked a cat?” he said, pointedly ignoring your annoying worried chatter. He was glancing over your costume, thick fingers shifting your headband.

Black cat ears, a black outfit and a black tail composed the entirety of your look. You had also painted whiskers and a small nose on your face with black eyeliner. At his acknowledgment you became suddenly bashful, looking off to the side and refusing to meet his face.

“Well, not a cat…” you said quietly. You had grabbed for your long tail, fingers fidgeting with the tip of it, working to strangle a blush as a thrill of excitement worked its way up your spine. “No, I'm a... a kitten.”

Kitten?

You couldn’t see his face but you swore you could feel the shift in his body’s energy.

“A kitten?” He chuckled low and deep, reaching out to follow the curve of your hip and waist with his hand. “Now why’d you go and pick a kitten?”

“Take a wild guess,” you said, back of your neck growing hot.

“Oh, but I want to hear you say it.”

“I’ve been… referred to, as kitten, by some people,” you groaned, desperate to rub your face but knowing you couldn’t. You had put way too much time in perfecting your whiskers to smear them over a wave of voluntary embarrassment.

“That’s not satisfying at all!” All Might chided, humored. “Come on now, why don’t you tell the truth?”

You brought it up. You wanted him to know.

“Becauseyoucallmekitten,” you mumbled to him with a glare. The hand on your waist drew you in closer toward him.

“You’ll have to speak up, old men like me have bad hearing.”

“Because. You. Call. Me. Kitten.”

“That’s right,” he said, toothy grin hidden. “I do call you kitten, don’t I? Whose kitten are you?”

“Nope,” you shook your head at him, cheeks painfully red and mildly concerned there were people lurking nearby who could hear you be so… spineless. “I have to go to a party. Maybe I’ll see you later.”

“Kitten,” he called, slipping a finger in the waist of leggings as you attempted to walked away, dragging you back toward him. You hand flew back to try and prevent him from catching a peek of what was hidden beneath your clothing.

Red. You had picked something red.

“Don’t walk off in a huff,” he continued, readjusting your ear headband so it sat straighter. “It’s a good night! But… why don’t you skip your party and we can go have our own fun? Grab a hotel room? I know a nearby love hotel that has rooms designed for... size differences.” A gloved finger traced the side of your face and your eyes flickered up to his orange ones. “We can strap you into a swing at just the right height. Or, we could take a bath together, kitten. Don’t you want to take a bath with me?”

Yes.

“I’ve been looking forward to this party,” you said, slowly wiggling out of his hold. His offer was arousing but ultimtely not tempting enough for you to break your plans. “Besides, it’s not so fun when you leave after an hour.”

“Two hours,” he rebutted coldly. You rolled your eyes, waving in concession. Fine. Two hours.

“Maybe another time?” you asked, your turn to tease. “Because right now I have plans that will last the entire night.”

It was a dig at him that he recognized. His hand, which had been lingering toward you, dropped by his side, clenching into a fist. 

“See you around All Might,” you called over your shoulder, shooting him a playful smile that both vexed and inflamed him.

He…

He followed after you.

Very quickly he was at your side again, his large stride slow in order to match your speed. The earlier confidence you had displayed in semi-private melted away when the crowds returned -- it wasn’t like All Might could blend in with the faceless masses. In fact, you could see most eyes settle on him as you both traveled by.

He was noticable.

“This isn’t a good idea!” you stressed to him in a harsh hiss, utterly uncomfortable with having the All Might walking openly beside you. In Roppongi of all places! Only weeks before he had attacked the city section, now he was basically strutting through it.

All Might gazed down at you, raising his mask so you could see the confidence on his face.

“Oh, there's no need to fret, sweetheart.”

You frowned, eyes darting about, not believing him in the slightest. Dark had settled over Tokyo and other costumed party-goers were out in force, already buzzing with expected good time jitters. It was a rare treat for Halloween to fall on a weekend -- most wanted to take advantage of it.

“You’re not coming out with me, are you? To the club?” you asked, already shaking your head as if leading him to answer with a ‘no.’ “None of my friends know about you, I don’t know how to explain you to them!”

“Maybe I’ll just be a stranger that comes up and grinds with you,” he said, placing a hand on your back.

Grind with you? His crotch was at your mid-back.

All Might lowered his mask when you crossed over to an even busier street, though you caught a glimpse of another smile just before it was covered. “We need to celebrate that outfit somehow," he continued. "Since you did wear it for me. Maybe we can sneak off into a bathroom...?”

“There are bathroom attendants there,” you said. “There’s no way we’re sneaking into a stall.”

Besides, he was a giant. He would probably tower over the stall walls.

“Fine, the back room,” he said dismissively.

“There is no ‘back room.’”

“What kind of club are you going to?” he scoffed -- how terribly boring it sounded. You rolled your eyes, wondering if the villain had even been inside a club before.

But, at the same time, you were also trying to hide the smile that threatened to show itself.

Out in public with All Might.

He seemed happy. So were you.

What a strange feeling.

All Might didn’t say anything more, leaving you to consider your thoughts silently as you both walked on. His size and… presence made most of the other people on the sidewalk give you both wide berth, which unnerved you and made him puff out his chest.

“No, I’m not going out with you,” he said after a bit.

Thank god.

You were waiting to cross the street -- he had attempted to ignore the heavy traffic and just go, but you had tugged him back by his hand, much to his chagrin. The last thing you needed was for him to start a scene or punch a car into the stratosphere in a burst of anger. “But you’re to let me know when you’re leaving.”

“So you can make sure I get home safe?” you asked lightly, the pedestrian light turning green. You heard him indulge in a sharp laugh.

“Yeah sweetheart, that’s it.”

“We’ll see how I feel,” you said, rolling your neck. “The train ride is a long one. Maybe I’ll just crash--”

He pulled you closer to him. You felt a pressure on your backside as you walked -- his hand had cupped and slid up your ass before settling at the base of your costume’s tail, swinging it side-to-side.

“I’ll get you home.”

“We’ll see,” you repeated, internally beaming at the thickness of his voice.

He liked you.

It was when you were several blocks away from the train station, moving along a busy corridor of bars and clubs, that two girls blocked the path in front of you and All Might.

They were staring.

You stared back.

All Might simply waited.

“Your costume is amazing,” the scarecrow finally gushed. Her friend was nodding her head along furiously.

“It’s perfect!” she, a bloodied nurse, added.

You glanced up at All Might -- they sure as hell weren’t talking about your cat costume. You heard him chuckle, standing a little prouder at their praise. Actually… your brows furrowed slightly. He was flexing! For them! You could see the tensing and releasing of his muscles of his arms and chest as he basked in their heavy attention.

“Please, can we get a picture?”

All Might glanced at the phone in the nurse’s hand.

“Ladies… of course,” he purred. Irritated, you watched the two girls eagerly move to either side of him, thanking him and paying him more compliments. But they immediately began struggling to fit his tall frame into the shot once they went for the picture.

Eyes fell on you, the girls recognizing that you were with him.

“Do-- do you mind?” one of the girls asked sweetly, holding her phone out toward you.

What could you do?

With a polite smile, you took the device and stepped back until most of everyone was in the frame. Though the girls stayed frozen in smiling poses with victory signs, All Might switched up his gesturing after each shot: first he had his hands on the girl’s shoulders, then moved to devil horns before flashing the shocker.

You quickly gave the phone back after that.

The girls were appreciative of the kindness and left chattering giddily with one another -- you weren’t sure if they were talking about All Might or not. Truthfully, you had become too wrapped up in the sudden crowd of people that had circled All Might, emboldened by the success of the ‘sacrificial lambs.’ The girls had walked away unscathed from the scary man and had been in good spirits, thus opening the floodgates to anyone else nearby who wanted a picture with such a fantastic costume.

So good that many believed him to be some sort of professional cosplayer.

All Might was laughing, hands on his waist and head was thrown back as he greedily accepted each picture request, posing and hamming it up to his heart’s content. Normally he made it a point to wear his mask whenever he was out ‘working’ but Halloween… it was the one time of year he could leave his house without any hero headaches. To the blind masses around him, he was just a giant man with a really good costume.

You could feel your phone in your purse vibrating, undoubtedly people were arriving at the party and checking to see when others would be too. For a few more minutes you tried to catch All Might’s eye, to gesture for him to wrap it up, but you were the furthest thing from his mind -- a man in an Endeavor costume was laughing as All Might pretended to crush his head.

You could just picture his face under the mask.

That made you worried.

Finally, you hit your wall.

When the crowd grew larger and a cackling All Might hoisted a squealing girl onto his shoulder, you left. You had places to go, people to see, and you didn’t want to stand around to watch strangers bask in the glory of All Might. You wanted to go have your own fun.

You weren’t sure if he noticed you leaving -- you assumed he didn’t. And you weren’t going to send him a text either.

A line was already forming at the front entrance of the club when you turned the corner and saw the enormous Halloween spectacular that had been set up. Inflatable pumpkins and ghosts lined the entrance and ghoulish-looking people were mingling with the line. You heard high-pitched screeches -- a masked man with an unchained chainsaw was running after a group of fairies, reeving his harmless weapon at them threateningly.

Thankfully you walked up at the same time as a familiar face, someone you knew was part of the guest list.

“Minori!” you shouted, voice traveling surprisingly well over the haunted house soundtrack that was being blasted over the outdoor speaker system. Your bubbly friend was dressed as some sort of female Mad Hatter, going so far as to put crazed-looking contact lenses in.

You waved at her in your cat outfit.

“You look so cute!” she cooed at you, giggling as she tugged on your tail. You pawed at your face, smiling.

“You’re looking purrfect tonight,” you shot back, giddy with elation. She seemed to appreciate your cat pun, laughing and knocking into you before reaching for her phone.

“Is everyone inside already?”

You shrugged, checking yours to see if any other updates had been sent to you from Yume. Nothing.

Minori did all the talking to the bouncer, informing him that you both were part of a group while you hung back, snapping a few pictures of the controlled mayhem. After some back and forth, you both were waved inside, following after some sort of hostess who led you down crowded stairs to the dance floor and the tables circling it.

Oh no.

‘Table service…’ you realized, slightly horrified, as you were pulled into friendly hugs of welcome. You greeted everyone with a tight smile before quickly grabbing your phone and transferring money between your checking and savings accounts to properly cover you for the night.

Looks like you were spending money.

The upside to going to a party at a club was that there was no need to hold a conversation -- the music was bumping and drowning anything that wasn’t being shouted directly in your ear. Sure you and Minori ‘talked,' but it wasn’t about anything of substances. Mostly, you both pointed out other costumes you liked or flashed thumbs up at one another while you swayed (and drank) to the beat.

By the time you were finished your second cocktail, a hand tapped you on the shoulder. You turned, falling into heaving laughter when you saw the sexy scientist standing behind you. Yume really had done it; she wore one of her lab coats with a skin-tight dress underneath it. Though she couldn’t hear it, she saw your wolf whistle as you exaggeratedly looked her up and down. She smacked away your lecherous eyes, grinning, while you waved over a nearby shot girl.

It was time for the party to really start.

The mood inside the club became more frenzied as time passed and the true Halloween party spirit was felt. The DJ, a loud blond-hair man that Minori told you the name of several times, began intertwining Halloween song remixes into his playlist.

At one point a mask across the club caught your eye.

No…

It was someone dressed as All Might. The man lacked the true villain's height and frequently pulled off his mask in order to sip at his beer, further proving that it wasn't your Might, but you were still enthralled. Tugging on Yume’s sleeve, you shouted for the girl to come with you while you asked for a picture. She looked at you confused -- why an All Might costume? But you pretended not to see her face and she never verbalized her question.

The fake All Might was pleasant enough and eagerly stood beside you while Yume snapped some shots. But you went beyond a simple side-by-side pose -- you placed a hand squarely on his chest and leaned into him, beaming at the camera. He had no problems with the sudden closeness and immediately pushed back against you, arm around the waist while he raised his middle finger, falling into the role of a baddie.

Giggling to yourself, you swiped through the pictures when you arrived back at your table, selecting one to send to a certain blond hell demon that you had ditched. After several minutes of consideration, all while Yume peered over your shoulder, you sent the image without any kind of caption or follow-up text. 

You felt your phone go-off, a response already received, as you shoved it back in your bag. You bit down the urge to check it.

No, you had to let it marinate.

That's what he gets.

While you and your friends were having a great night out, another girl in the club was experiencing what she considered was the worst night of her life. Gripping an empty shot glass, Jessica Alloway from Toronto was watching her new crush Rick dance with another girl from their travel group.

Two days earlier, Rick had danced with Jessica and had taken her out to lunch the next day.

But apparently, Jessica did not matter to him anymore.

“Jess,” Regina said, tugging her friend’s onesie to break her out of her livid glare. “Jess, just forget about it. You’ve only known him for like a week. Just let it go.”

“No!” Jess screeched in slurred rage, ripping her arm out of her friend’s tired grasp. “No! This is bullshit. He’s an asshole. He’s a fucking asshole.”

“Jess…” the other girl rubbed her face, aware of how her friend could get when she was drunk. “Jess, calm down. Remember what they said about Japan. It’s quiet here. Don’t go off the handle.”

“It’s not fucking fair for him to come in and do this shit!”

Jess had been nothing but kind to Rick. She laughed at all his jokes, complimented him and even spotted him a couple yen when he wanted to get a coffee from some vending machine. She had been the perfect companion and what did that get her? Nothing. She had been tossed aside like trash.

No, it wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair at all.

Regina noticed the small particles drifting off the flowers in her friend’s hair. With wide eyes, she grabbed her roughly by the shoulder.

“Don’t!” she hissed. “You can’t use your quirk here.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Jess shot back. “He wants to be in love with that girl? I’ll make him fall in love!”

“Love!? Jess, it’s been a fucking week, just ignore him and let’s go! It’s illegal to use your quirk in public in Japan and you can’t do it in here!”

But it was too late.

As you declined the Jello shot being offered to you, Minori was gesturing up to the pink confetti that was lazing drifting down from the ceiling to cover the dancefloor. 

“It’s not very Halloween-ish!” she said with a giggle, waving her hand as the material settled over your table. You laughed with her in agreement, reaching to grasp one of the small papers from the air.

It wasn’t paper.

Furrowing your brows, you held your hand up to your face in the dim lighting, trying to determine what material the club was pumping out. Was it foam? As you rubbed it between your fingers, you saw it was powdery and left a visible glowing residue on your hands.

“What is this?” a guy at your table asked, attempting to rub the pink off of his suit.

“It looks like… pollen?” Yume said, looking to you with a shrug. You echoed it.

By now, most of the lower level of the club was hazed by the unknown residue -- it was clinging to people and covering the floor with an unnatural pink, enough so that many dancers had stopped what they were doing in mild concern.

“‘Eyyy, listeners, looks like there’s been a bit of a quirk misfire!” the DJ chattered into his microphone, loud voice cutting through the music.

‘Quirk misfire?’ You thought, watching some of the pink that had settled on your clothes fade to nothing.

The smell was the first thing to creep in and consume your senses. Something… earthy. So strong and pungent that you could taste it -- feel it even, as it left a thin film in your mouth. It was more potent than the scent of cut grass or freshly cut flowers.

No, it was like someone had squeezed the essence of an entire rain-soaked forest into a single burst that had been aimed at your face.

Once it took root in your mind, the earthiness morphed into something different, some more… sweet. You could feel the change in your body during the shift, a great wave inside you receding in a quick pull that made you go lightheaded and lose your balance.

You stumbled against the table next to you, elbows catching on it before you tumbled all the way down to the floor. Through glazed eyes you looked up, recognizing that other fuzzed blobs around you were dropping and swaying.

Something was wrong.

The sweetness was strong. Bitterly strong. Tartly strong. Your head was swimming, the piercing sugar making your stomach churn and clench in ache. You were sweating.

And the feeling. The feeling only worsened. Each second that passed, you felt your body losing all sense of self. All you could smell and taste was the sweet. All you could hear was the beating of your heart.

Your body?

Oh, the clenching…

The clenching wasn’t in your stomach anymore.

Whatever it was that hit you… it had found the most intimate corners of your mind and lodged itself there. It had rushed there.

You squeezed your legs together, breath rough and rapid.

“Oh god,” you gasped.

You were afraid.

Because you weren’t in control of your body.

You tried to take in the scene around you. Some of the club patrons were in a panic, quickly trying to leave the area. The DJ was babbling something that was incomprehensible to your ears. Your own friends were trying to tug you along in their rush out and you stumbled after. Panic was only a secondary sensation. The most prominent you felt was… fire. You were on fire.

Had this--

You groaned, a sudden, violent spasm shaking your lower body and making your legs wobble. You were empty. God, you were so empty. Gritting your teeth and squeezing your hands into fists, you tried to ignore where the spasm had--

Again.

You cried out louder, the hairs on your body rising with an incredible sense of need. Oh god, you needed it. Oh god, you needed something.

Empty. Empty.

A moan caught your attention and you watched two people fall on each other, bodies pulling together as if they were magnets, wild hands digging at one another.

Oh no.

You needed to get out of there.

A small bit of consciousness had you grab your purse before you stumbled as fast as you could to the exit. If you got--

Spasm.

Your legs bowed and you fell to your knees.

Someone had placed a warm hand against your stomach and back, to help you up. To help you stand.

But their touch was lingering.

A mouth was by your ear, lips desperately pressing against the sticky sweat of your neck. Your eyes rolled and you felt yourself falling toward the stranger, aware they could give you--

NO!

With a jerk, you pulled away. Stumbled away. More panic in your movements as your quickened your pace. You needed to--

Spasm.

--get to out of there.

To your horror, stepping out into the night did nothing to elevate the mold in your mind. In fact, it only made things worse. The fresh air was mixing with whatever poison was in your body, making it expand and cling to your consciousness harder.

You wanted to cry. You were crying.

A couple was mangled on the sidewalk beside you, desperately clawing at one another, clothes and costumes falling away. You stopped and stared, hypnotized, heart and soul telling you to join them.

Spasm.

They weren’t the only ones going at it, not the only ones to fall into the haze of the poison. All around you, people were dropping and clinging together. Traffic had stopped, wide-eyed drivers were watching in stunned confusion as a makeshift orgy suddenly exploded out in the public sphere. Desperately you wanted to try and tell someone what was going on. You could hear shrill voices screeching out warnings and cries for help but, to you, no one was doing anything. What could they do?

Spasm. Spasm. Spasm.

When the clenching subsided, you realized you had fallen to your knees, gripping your stomach.

No.

You needed to go.

Your feet were moving before your brain recognized it, dragging you away from the mindless debauchery into the relative stillness of an alley. The safety of an alley. No one was around.

But no one was around.

You whimpered, disgusted at yourself and your desperate body. You felt…

Well, you know how you felt.

And the feeling was only getting worse.

You needed someone.

With shaking hands you reached for your cell phone, staring at it. You wanted… help. You needed help. You wanted the feelings in you to die.

Help.

Who should you call? The police? Request an ambulance?

One New Message.

Glazed eyes stared at the message, your reptilian mind imagining the man who had sent it. Imagining everything about the man who had sent it. Oh, he could give you help. He could give you such sweet help to ease the ache.

With trembling fingers, you typed out a text.

All Might was watching a movie on his phone when a notification of a message dropped down from the top of his screen. He looked at the time before swiping to read what you said. Had you finally responded to his remark at the imposter you were cozying up to?

‘Help’

He stared at the word.

‘What do you mean, help?’ he wrote back, staring and waiting for your answer. He didn’t want to overreact but…

Nothing.

When you didn’t answer in seconds, he stood, immediately inflating to his larger form.

Something wasn't right. 

He looked around the cityscape from the rooftop he had hidden away to. Whereabouts in the district was he? Dark eyes fell on one familiar landmark and then another, helping him mark where he was in relation to your club.

Once he could picture visualize the map, he was off.

It only took him seconds to reach the street where you were supposed to be. Not that it was hard to spot -- during his approach he could see the flashing lights of emergency vehicles littering the road.

And heroes.

“What happened?” he growled, grabbing a gawker by the shoulder and spinning them around. The initial anger at being so roughly handled by a stranger fell away once they got a look at the creepily perfect All Might costume.

“There was… a, uh, quirk situation,” the faux-police officer said. “In the nightclub.”

“Heard it was pollen,” a dog-quirk girl dressed as a cat said, ears twitching with morbid delight. “You know… sex pollen.”

“No, that only happens in the movies,” the officer retorted and the dog-cat shrugged.

All Might had no patience for their idiocy, his eyes were fixated on the quarantined building. Rage was clawing and gnashing at his chest as he carefully took out his phone, hands shaking as he actively worked to keep himself from snapping everything and everyone around him in half.

‘Where are you?’ he asked. When you didn’t respond in seconds, he dropped any sort of pretense and called you.

It rang once.

Twice.

Three times.

By the sixth ring, it had gone to voicemail. He took another steadying breath, ignoring the red vignette that clouded his vision. He redialed your number.

It rang once.

Twice.

“All Might?”

The voice on the other end was soft and slurred.

“Where are you?” he demanded immediately. He heard a soft whimper and his arms tensed, infuriated by not knowing what, or who, was causing you to make such a meek sound.

“In… an alley,” you slurred out. So you weren’t inside? His eyes moved off the building, trying to locate where you could have gone off to.

“Send me your location.”

“I-I can’t.”

“Stupid girl, send me your location now.”

He could hear shuffling as you worked to fulfill his 'request' -- how could simply tapping a button in your message screen be hard?

“Come on,” he growled, impatient. His phone vibrated and he glanced at the small map that popped up in your text message chain.

“I sent--”

He didn’t hear the rest, he exploded away in a show of power that made bystanders glance at one another in horror.

The alley was only a few yards away from the front entrance of the club -- apparently none of the officers or heroes had done any sort of sweep of the surrounding area yet. They hadn’t found you.

You were huddled beside a dumpster, arms wrapped around knees that were pulled tightly to your chest. Your phone sat discarded on the ground.

You were alone.

He watched you look up at when he approached, clouded eyes taking in the sight of orange glowing in the dark. Any sensible person would have been terrified at such a sight -- cornered in a dark alleyway with All Might. But your sensibility had been failing you for several months.

The relief you felt wasn’t powerful enough to make it through the horrible sludge of arousal that had possessed you. So you stared up at him, whimpering and whining like some sort of injured, stray dog begging for help. But something conscious in your remained; your arms pulled your legs closer together. No, you needed to keep control.

“Something wrong?” All Might asked, humor replacing rage at having finally found you untouched and safe. Waiting for him.

Your lip wavered as you looked away, staring at the dirt of the alley. His voice…

Your legs wanted to fall open for him.

Instead, you hunkered down, squeezing your entire body closed. You were basically wrestling for control... but it was hard. And each second that passed the struggle got harder.

“Are you… okay, kitten?”

You heard it then, the slight rumble of concern in his words at seeing you so... unlike yourself. It was an unfamiliar tone that lodged the first attack at your walls. A layer of your defenses fell and your head whipped toward him -- your cheeks a vivid red.

No, you weren’t okay.

“You got a dose of the pollen?” he asked. You weren't in a state of mind to question how he had known about the pollen. Instead, you swallowed the excess saliva that had been pooling in your mouth, nodding.

Voices carried up from the alley entrance, joined with the raspy chatter of radio talk.

Ah, so they were going to do sweeps.

“We have to go,” All Might said, manually switching off the lights of his mask and plunging your little corner into darkness. “Unless you want to get carted away to some hospital?”

A hospital sounded perfectly fine, you thought. In fact, the police officers sounded perfectly fine too. Nothing could go wrong if they discovered you -- they just wanted to help. Maybe they could give you some sort of medication to rid yourself of the poison. To clear your head. To give you back control.

You wanted to convey these thoughts to All Might, to let him know you were okay. He could go somewhere safe.

When you opened your mouth, you let out a loud, desperate whimper.

“Let’s go then,” he said, breaking your hold on yourself so he could bring you against his body.

Contact.

Every brick of defense you had carefully laid down instantly crumbled at his touch. His smell, like a train, struck your senses and you felt as if you had been walloped upside the head. In fact, you physically recoiled, but quickly were pressed back into his chest by force when he shot up into the sky, cool air whipping around your too-hot body.

Relief.

Physical relief.

That’s what you wanted.

All Might felt your hand travel up his body while he looked for a suitable place to land. Fingers were pressing against the visible sliver of skin between the high collar of his shirt and his mask.

Then lips were there.

“Please,” he heard you mutter against his neck, decorating the small expanse of flesh with kisses. “Please, All Might. Please.”

You sounded as desperate as you looked and he could only imagine what you were feeling. The arousal he felt earlier at seeing you dressed as his kitten paled in comparison to the thunderous avalanche that echoed in his mind at feeling you cling to his body, hands clawing at him, legs wrapping around the trunk of him. Desperate for him. Wanting him.

All the while you kept repeating ‘please.’

Please. Please. Please.

The roof of the building he landed on was dark and it towered over surrounding structures -- not that any of that mattered to you. But his landing meant the wind and pressure wasn't whipping and smacking into your anymore, which made pulling off his mask a lot easier for you.

Your hands and arms were still clinging so tightly, encircling his neck and burying roughly into his hair. You were trying to pull him better into you, but no amount of contact you forced was good enough. 

A crazed mouth struck his face. You had missed his mouth entirely, landing by his nose before you corrected yourself. It was not a good kiss -- your teeth knocked against his lips as your tongue sloppily groped for his. Not to mention the drool. You were drooling. Drooling, moaning, whimpering and crying. And grinding weakly, though you weren’t getting much friction against his too-wide chest.

You were a mess. An absolutely, unthinking, lust-crazed mess.

And All Might was in heaven.

He answered your desperation with his own irrational, lustful intensity. He grabbed at your head, forcing your messy mouth harder against his, relishing in the saliva-slicked connection of your faces. As for the grinding -- a hand bumped your tail out of the way as he cupped your ass, fingers digging down and forcefully pressing against your crotch.

All Might grunted into you when he discovered what was waiting there. Wetness. An intense wetness that had soaked through every article of clothing you were wearing, absolutely drenching his fingers. You gasped loudly when you felt him press harder against you there, brain automatically shutting down now that you had found someone to rut with.

“I need you,” you cried to him, gasps falling from your mouth as he fingers continued to dig and prod at your sex through your pants. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. Please. Please.”

He made another deepthroated sound at hearing your earnest begging, breaking away from your mouth to look around the roof. You cried out at the loss of contact, clawing at his face to turn it back to you. But he wouldn’t listen, so you resorted to biting and licking the underside of his chin while he searched for something to set you against. Something with leverage.

An air conditioning unit.

Good enough.

He was walking somewhere, face returning to yours but he didn't bless you with another kiss, though you were hysterically begging and scrabbling for it. Instead, his nose was in your hair and he was breathing loudly, looking for a quick hit of your scent. With you unabashedly humping him, he was more open in indulging in the little things he enjoyed, as you weren't in the right mind to recognize them. He inhaled again, the sweat of your scalp amplifying the smells of you trapped in your hair.

On another deep inhale, he realized something was amiss when a strange taste settled on the tip of his tongue. An earthy flavor that quickly shifted sweet. His eyes rolled slightly, body flaring to life at the hit of trapped pollen he had inadvertently taken. It wasn't enough to send him into a sex-crazed, mind-melting frenzy, but he felt his already eager cock lurch and grow somehow harder. 

It was a good thing he hadn’t been at the club, he thought as he mauled your mouth, fingers digging into your body. The second kiss was just as heated and messy as the first -- All Might grabbed at your scalp and twisted your hair in his hand; you cried out and he rumbled and cooed against your sounds of distress.

Had he been hit by a dosage of sex pollen… he would have shattered every bone in your body.

The air conditioning unit was the ideal height, thanking whatever good fortune was smiling down on him. Your crotch was level with his and, as if you sensed the perfection, your legs immediately straddled his waist so you could properly ground your lower body against his groin in earnest.

There was a leaking hardness in his pants and you shamelessly moaned at the feeling of it pressing against your sex, your body already trembling in anticipation of the beautiful relief it would provide for you. All Might watched with heated eyes as you writhed and rutted against his body, no sense of shame bogging you down. And you were making such loud, frequent cries so easily. As a test he placed his hand on your thigh, watching a shudder roll across you at the contact.

Heaven.

“I need it,” you groaned, head lolling as your fogged eyes met his. Blundering, trembling hands were reaching out, trying to undo the trappings of his pants.

He stepped back, away from your fingers, with a strained chuckled. “Now, now--”

“Not tonight!” you wailed up at him, assuming he wanted to tease. To torture. “I can’t-- not tonight-- Please. Help me.”

He decided then to forego his theatrics for the night. You wouldn’t have appreciated them anyway. And his eager cock didn’t want them.

With heavy hands he grabbed the waist of your leggings, ripping and tugging them down off your body. Even in the dark, he could see the wetness clinging to your underwear and thighs, glinting seductively in the weak moonlight. You were crying out his name, wriggling and shifting your hips, imploring for more. Demanding more. Begging for more. He released a heavy breath, eyes flicking between your dripping cunt and salivating, bright-red, face.

Beautiful.

He dropped to his knees in an unceremonious rush, using both hands to tear your underwear off your body before burying his face against your sex. Like a man starved, he attacked your cunt, large tongue immediately burying up to the hilt, wriggling and searching. Prodding and poking. All so he could better taste you and drive you wild.

Your body bucked and squirmed beneath him, so much so that he had to grab your legs to keep you in place against his mouth. Every flick of his tongue had you crying out his name. You were jerking against him, hands rubbing his face and hair, constantly moving but otherwise keeping in contact with him. It wasn’t just your hands that were roaming -- you were just moving. Continuously shifting side-to-side, rocking your hips, rolling your body.

He grunted and snorted as he lapped at you enthusiastically, dissolving into a more feral creature thanks to the minor hit of sex pollen that had stained his brain. His pants… he needed to take off his pants soon. They were too tight. And you weren’t helping the matter -- your pussy was beyond dripping or soaking; it was a never-ending torrent of you that coated his mouth, tongue and chin. All Might was getting drunk off it, his nails digging into your flesh while you continued to howl his name.

To his own dismay, his conscious whispered to him to move on -- as good as you tasted, you were in lust-fueled agony and deserved relief. Slowly he shifted his tongue up to play with your clit, a rough finger slipping inside you to offer your cunt something large to grip on.

“That’s it,” he muttered against you, voice rough and thick. “You keep calling my name.”

For someone as wet and wild as you, he assumed you would be cumming left and right thanks to his tongue. A tongue that had gotten to know you quite well. But that wasn’t the case. As he traced circles against your rock-hard nub, eventually adding a second and even third finger, he noticed you becoming more and more frazzled. Yet, you didn’t seem to heading toward your climax.

The lack of alleviation was starting to fray at whatever loose bindings were holding you together. Frustrated, weepy eyes met his and your mouth opened and closed in harsh, urgent huffs. As if you suspected he was somehow denying you, though his attention had been unwavering.

“A-ah,” you gripped your hair, tears breaching your lashes to traveling down your face. His gut flipped -- he was unsure how he felt about the crying in the moment. “Please. Please let me cum. Please.”

“I’m not stopping you!” All Might snapped back, as if he was being made physically uncomfortable by your lack of orgasm as well.

“Why!?”  your head dropped back onto the metal unit and you rubbed your face, smearing your nose and whiskers.

All Might wasn’t sure why either.

Unless…

Unless you couldn’t get off by his mouth.

You were flipped on your stomach, whimpering and looking over your shoulder as you heard the telltale sounds of a belt being unbuckled and pants being unzipped. He didn’t bother dropping his pants really -- he just freed his weeping cock from the suffocation of his clothing and aligned it with your opening, rubbing the oozing tip up and down along your glistened lower lips.

His hand rested on your lower back as you curled your body up, eyes rolling when you felt something hot, heavy and thick finally starting to cram itself inside you. Where it belonged.

“Yesss...!” you hissed, brain letting you know that, finally, you had solved the puzzle. But he was going too slow, forcing himself to try and work at muscles that were already loose and open, waiting for him.

“Harder!” you cried and he wavered at hearing that. “Harder!”

Against his better judgment, and spurred on by his own need for roughness, he listened. All Might pushed deeper inside of you, skipping past several minute of foreplay to start pumping in and out of you with abandon.

But it wasn’t enough.

“More!” you sang out. He listened. Oh, did he listen. Deeper he pushed, retracting lightly only to plunge more of himself into you in sharp, deep thrusts. When you repeated ‘more’ a second time, he discarded any remaining caution he had and just buried himself into your sex completely, his groin pressing firmly against your ass.

You should have been uncomfortable, but you weren’t. You felt full. Wonderfully, magically, satisfyingly full. But your contented silence made him pause -- had he hurt you…?

You mumbled something up at him, jerking your hips against toward him.

“What?” he grunted, swallowing loudly.

You turned your head to the side, cheek resting against dirty metal, so he could hear you better.

“Fuck me.”

Talk about magic words.

He did.

One of his hands remained firmly on your back while the other pressed into your hair, pulling your head back as he fucked you, as you had commanded.

Commanded? You wanted to command him?

Each time his hips slapped against your ass, you gasped out for him. And each gasp only further inflamed his already drunken passions. Your loudness and expressiveness was so unlike you and All Might reveled in it. Every little movement of his would set off a chain reaction of sighs and whimpers in you that would only spur him on more.

None of the sounds you made were quiet -- everything that erupted from your mouth had power behind it. Passion behind it.

“Like a bitch in heat,” he grunted to himself, moving both his hands to your waist to better yank you back harder against his cock.

“Yessss,” you cooed back to him. He hadn’t expected you to answer, but the response did elicit a large, clenching grin from him.

“Glad I found you?” he asked. You moaned when he shifted your body slightly, his cock re-angling inside you in the process. When you answered affirmatively he chuckled. “Didn’t want anyone else, did you?”

“N-no,” you grunted before gasping when he bucked against you harder, pleased by your answer. “Only you… only want you.”

That. That was the perfect answer.

Slap.

Pain rocketed across your backside as one of his heavy hands struck an asscheek, making your body careen toward the side.

“Tell me who you want.”

You shivered, the pain of the slap only stoking your fervor.

“You!”

Another slap across the opposite cheek. You whimpered and looked back at him again, apparently unaware of the drool spilling out of the corner of your mouth.

All Might saw it.

Another slap, followed by another --  his hand switched cheeks at each strike, leaving you shuddering and cawing beneath him. He watched your skin turn a beautiful shade of red, the stinging only making everything better. Could he get you to be this depraved every night? There must be a way to get doses of pollen. He needed you to be mindless again.

The smacking stopped when he felt a slight buzzing feeling in his palm, which meant your backside must have been burning.

Then, he was all gentle touches -- softly, though with still-rough hands, he brushed and caressed ringing, blazing skin. His easy contact didn't settle the pain down but it was still wonderful and you were mewling out to him. 

“That’s it, beautiful,” he said thickly, hand trailing up your ass and across your back before returning to your waist. “You did so well tonight.”

Calloused fingers slid underneath your body, shifting and burying against clit as All Might picked up the pace of his fucking. This time, he’d make you cum.

You tried your best to sit up, resting on your elbows as you felt your body repeatedly slam into metal. But you had no sense of pain, all you could focus on was the pleasure building in your loins.

“That’s it,” he told you again, voice and mouth thick with spit, fingers digging into your flesh as felt his lip start to curl. “Let All Might help you.”

You didn’t answer him -- all you did was pant and groan, pushing up and back against his hand and cock.

God, he was perfect. Everything about him was divine. So strong. So wonderful. And he belonged to you. No one else deserved him. Only you. He was only yours.

“Is that so?”

You heard his rough, humored voice by your head -- he was leaning over you, resting on a forearm while his other hand continued to work your clit to oblivion. Apparently, your thoughts hadn't been trapped in the safety of your mind, you had been whispering them out loud to yourself. And All Might had caught you.

“Only yours,” he grunted, a wicked smile curling across his face, one that you couldn't see. He fell into a loud silence that was only disturbed by his harsh, irregular breathing. That was until he muttered out something to himself that you didn't catch, “...Only yours.”

Finally, you felt a familiar pressure at the base of your skull. A twisting, warm feeling that was mirrored in your gut.

Your hand reached for his tightly-clenched fist positioned slightly above your head. He was approaching his own release, focusing on the bubbling in his gut and the way your cunt clung to his shaft at each thrust. When he felt the tapping of your fingers, he loosened his fist, allowing your hand to slip over his, grasping his large thumb as your body started to go rigid, actively pushing against All Might’s body.

At the first burst of pleasure, your body slackened and you fell against the air conditioning unit, bucking and crying as each wave of warmth worked itself up and down your body, cascading out to each limb before returning to ball itself in your gut. Whimpering, you felt All Might continue to thrust through your orgasm, though he was becoming more erratic with his movements. The way your body grasped and clutched at him had furthered chipped away at his resilience.

He ignored your lurching shift to gaspy wails upon realizing he wasn't going to end his fingering of your clit, making your body shudder and flail from the overstimulation. Not that you could do anything -- he was pressing more of his body weight on top of yours.

You had been pinned, all you could do was wait for him to finish.

But you didn’t have to wait very long.

“Oh kitten, you’re gonna make me cum,” he warned in loud huffs.

You nodded at him, reaching for his thumb again, lightly patting it. After a series of increasing harder thrusts that had you crying out again in finally recognized pain, you heard him grunt loudly above you, hips snapping against yours and remaining there as an excessive amount of warmth flooded your core.

Relief.

It wasn’t instant, but you felt the cobwebs that had muddled and covered your mind begin to disappear, your thoughts freeing themselves from the barriers they had been trapped behind. But it was a short-lived feeling of relief. What followed next was a sudden, encompassing wave of fatigue that had your head falling forward against metal.

Your eyes had grown tremendously heavy.

All Might was saying something to you -- petting your back before letting out a weak chuckle. When you didn’t respond, he nudged you before turning you over, examining your face. You slowly blinked at him.

“...s’tired,” you slurred at him, closing your eyes for several seconds before opening them to look back at his face.

“Again?” you heard him say with an irritated sigh. “... habit, darling.”

You knew what he was saying without hearing it -- but you didn’t care. Your body had worked itself into a frenzy and, now that it was satisfied, it was shutting down to replenish all the energy it had lost.

“... God dammit.”

It was a bit of an ordeal to get you home. After putting your pants back on and backtracking to find where he dropped his helmet, All Might realized he had to travel via jumping to get you back to your apartment in Kamino. The trains were done running for the night, a taxi would take too long...

By the time he crossed a distance that was normally an hour by train, his stamina was dangerously depleted. He clenched his teeth as he carried you through the threshold of your home, ignoring the sweat trailing down his neck and the blood collecting at the back of his throat. He had managed to toss you onto your bed before his strength failed him completely; he was racked by a series of wet coughs, tendrils of steam rising from his body as he lost mass.

Standing in too-large clothes, Yagi continued to cough into his hand, unconcerned by the spattering of blood that coated his palm, which he cleaned off by wiping it on his pants.

It was… uncomfortable to be his true form in your presence, even if you weren’t conscious to gawk at it. He had hoped to have enough energy to at least get you into a shower to hose you off, but that clearly wasn’t in the cards for you. You’d just have to sleep in your soiled and soaked leggings with his load leaking out of you until you could clean yourself in the morning.

Well, he didn’t dislike the image of his seed leaking out of you...

Tired eyes settled on your sleeping face. On the smeared makeup that coated it.

A thrum.

A kitten. His kitten.

He grinned, shaking his head at you. First, you show up as a kitten for him. Then, you attempted to tease him with a picture of some pathetic All Might impersonator you had clung to at your party. Obviously, he was on your mind -- you were doing a terrible job at hiding it.

Were you trying to hide it?

“Stay,” you groaned to him, shifting in your bed, bleary eyes looking up at him.

His blood ran cold, eyes widening.

You were looking at him.

But you didn’t see Yagi Toshinori standing in your bedroom. In your fogged state of mind, you only saw two electric blue eyes gazing down at you in the dark. Eyes that were usually hidden by shadows, now shining so bright for you, drawing you in completely.

That’s what you fixated on. Nothing else.

With a grunt you sat up, oblivious to the sagging and soaking in the crotch of your pants. You weren’t entirely cohesive, Yagi realized, but his conclusion did nothing to ease the discomfort that plagued him.

You reached for him slowly, grasping a too-small wrist and tugging the too-thin man closer to the edge of your bed.

No, you weren’t focusing on anything else. Just two beautiful eyes and a familiar, comforting presence.

“Stay,” you repeated, draping your arms around lanky shoulders before burying your face against a too-thin neck. Yagi’s eyes were still wide, his Adam’s apple bobbing sharply as he swallowed.

He allowed you to pull his sharp face down toward you and when your mouth brushed against too-thin lips…

Groaning, Yagi fell into you, surprisingly strong arms wrapping around your body, mouth hungry and desperate for yours. Bumping teeth and sharp breaths eventually settled into the soft clicking of familiar mouths grasping one another.

To you, it was nothing out of the ordinary. Just you and your All Might sharing a rare tender kiss in the dark.

For Yagi… how long had it been since he had any kind of physical affection in this form?

The answer was too long.

And he wanted it. 

He nuzzled his nose against yours when you broke away with a satisfied hum, fully prepared to lead you into another kiss. Something stronger to satisfy the empty he felt in a lost stomach. But you inhaled deeply, sleepily, and moved away from him.

He was disappointed, silently placing a hand on your arm, too shamed by his own weakness to say anything or demand more. But you caught on that he wanted something. He was All Might after all, it was never easy with him. You shared a warm smile before running your hands up the side of his neck and face, holding eye contact with his gorgeous blues, nails lightly scratching and massaging his scalp before you pulled away for real.

Your body and mind were too waterlogged and heavy for you to stay up any longer after that. Settling under the covers, you mumbled something incomprehensible to him before taking another deep breath and dozing off.

Satisfied. 

He stayed at your bedside a little longer, gazing at your sleeping form, lulled by a strange sense of... something.

Until his inner All Might materialized to pummel sense back into him.

He was acting like some lovelorn teenager. He was acting like a fool.

Pathetic. Weak.

And he needed to get a hold of himself. 

Sparing you one last glance, he left your bedroom. An understandable sense of deja vu settled over him as he looked over the pictures and belongings scattered across your living room. It was a scene that echoed the first night he had... ensnared you.

It ended the same way too.

With not much else he could do, he left. You were left snuggled away safely in your apartment while Yagi Toshinori started the long, quiet journey back to his.

Chapter Text

“Poindexter said she found something.”

Naomasa looked up and sighed, shaking his head at the younger detective standing next to his desk.

The room was quiet, save for a few muttering phone calls and the familiar clicking of computer keyboards. But the quiet meant their conversation was going to carry. They had about fifteen eavesdroppers.

And Kuryuu went and called the most popular forensic technician they had a name.

The man did not know how to leave a good impression on his peers.

“Don’t call her that. It’s mean.”

“Oh, I don’t mean anything by it,” Kuryuu said with a laugh, oblivious. “It’s just a joke!”

Joke or not, Naomasa still didn’t find much humor in it. But he had a laundry list of reports and tasks that he needed to get done before the end of the day and just didn’t have the time for a dressing down of the rookie.

“Did Yuasa mention what she found? What it’s in regards to?” He asked, returning to his nearly completed report, pointedly saying the technician's name to further drive the need for respect into the new guy’s head.

‘Found something…’

If it was something small, maybe he could swing down to the lab later to thank her and check in on it. On his way to lunch, maybe.

If he had the time to take a lunch, that is.

“It’s about that assassination plot a while back. You know, the nerve one. With that family--”

“Yoshida!” Naomasa was looking at the rookie, eyes wide with surprise. “She found something on that case? What? What is it?”

“Well, she hung up before the conversation made it that far…”

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Naomasa quickly saved his work before lurching away from his desk, his dress shoes clicking loudly against the linoleum floor as he briskly walked away. Kuryuu was startled by the suddenness of his work buddy’s movements and quickly jogged after him, unaware of the dry looks he was receiving from the surrounding officers and detectives.

A silent elevator ride later, the two had entered a small room stuffed with overflowing filing cabinets and several ashtrays filled with coins. Having heard someone enter her sanctuary, an orange-skinned woman peered out from an adjacent room. She smiled widely upon seeing Naomasa but the brightness dulled considerably upon seeing a beaming Kuryuu behind him.

“Good afternoon, Yuasa,” Naomasa said brightly. “Heard you had something for us!”

“For you, Nao,” she said sweetly, a strange echo punctuating the end of each word. “But you didn’t answer your phone so I had to call the other one.”

“I have a name you know!” Kuryuu piped up, trying and failing to hide the smile on his face. The glare Yuasa shot at him was withering, but he didn’t seem bothered by it.

“I’m sorry,” Naomasa said, sidestepping slightly to better block Kuryuu from her view. “It’s just a busy time of year for me. But Kuryuu did tell me what you found had to do with the Yoshida case…”

At his placating tone, Yuasa nodded and waved him inside her office -- the space was just as cramped and messy as the first room. Papers, folders and files were stacked everywhere. A floor fan was on, facing the corner of a room, blowing the hanging vines of a thriving spider plant.

“I found…” she paused for dramatic effect as she leaned down to her computer. After a few clicks, she turned her monitor to her guests. “A serial number.”

Naomasa tried to hide the disappointment from his face while Kuryuu peeked from behind him, squinting his eyes toward the monitor. A small mixture of letters and numbers were displayed on the screen, etched into some type of metal.

“... Oh!” Naomasa said with what he hoped sounded like enthusiasm. Yuasa waited a beat, smile still frozen in place, until she recognized neither of the detectives understood what she had just uncovered.

She sighed, deflating.

“It’s a serial number pulled off of the music box used in the attack,” she explained. “All of the other objects had any identifying markings and numbers scrubbed, but whoever did the attack missed one.” She gestured her head to the screen. “This was located on one of the gears of the music box.”

Nothing.

“We lucked out,” she stressed. “We can trace who purchased it.”

At that, she finally saw lights of excitement blaze in her colleague’s eyes.

“Wait, wait, wait…” Kuryuu spoke up before Naomasa could. “How is this possible? Are you saying I can go out and buy a candy bar and it can be linked back to me?”

Yuasa stared at him.

“And you graduated the academy?” she asked. Kuryuu bristled while Naomasa held up his hands, desperately trying to keep everyone calm. “The music box is a collector’s item,” she snapped before anyone else could interject. “You can either buy it directly from the company or a handful of resellers. Using this serial number--” the screen of her monitor flickered when she jabbed her finger onto it. “-- I can find out when it was purchased and where. There aren’t a lot of these particular music boxes floating around, so the data pool we’ll be working in will be relatively small.”

“But what if it was sold on eBay? A garage sale?”

Her excitement dimmed at Naomasa’s question.

“Then we have to try and work with the sale records of an individual instead of a company. We can get a username from the seller of the buyer on eBay or any other online marketplace. But a garage sale…” She frowned. “That’s when we start to get into dead-end territory.”

The detectives shared a glance and Yuasa waved her hands, sensing she was losing her audience.

“But this is a good thing!” she stressed. “This is much, much better than nothing.”

That was true. The case had been at a stalemate for weeks and it was the first break they had gotten about who the supplier of the tainted merchandise could have been.

“You did good work, Yuasa,” Naomasa said. The orange girl immediately turned a bright shade of pink, which caused Kuryuu to erupt into raucous laughter.

“Real smooth,” he teased. At being called out, mortification gripped her and immediately the pink darkened and brightened, turning red as anger replaced the emotions in the girl’s body. She was glaring at the younger man again, her fury palpable.

Naomasa stepped in to try and save the poor technician from any more embarrassment, shoo-ing Kuryuu to wait outside of her office while she put together the company to contact and the serial number information they could use to start tracing the journey of the music box.

“He just has a rude sense of humor,” he tried to explain, watching the girl’s skin shift between red and pink. The sudden, swirling changes were starting to make him go dizzy, so he forced himself to stare at the desk while her fingers flew across her keyboard.

“Yeah, well…” she trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence, but slammed her thumbs down on the spacebar as she typed. “Wait until he goes off on his own. No one is going to want to work with him. Most the other techs hate him too.”

“I’m working on it,” Naomasa said with a sigh. “Getting him to act more professional. I just have a lot on my plate and--”

“Oh, Naomasa, I don’t blame you,” she cooed and he silently kicked himself for using her feelings to his advantage. But the churning of her skin had stopped and she was settling back into her default orange. “I know you try and you’re always just so nice--”

Moments later, Kuryuu watched an exhausted Naomasa leave the room, closing the office door behind him.

“You’re not making many friends here,” Naomasa stated simply as the duo left the tech room, heading back to the elevator, a manilla folder in hand.

“I was joking--”

“That’s a poor excuse.”

Kuryuu sighed at the curt tone and nodded his head.

“I know, I know. I have to learn how to control my mouth. But I didn’t mean anything by it, you know? Just a couple little jokes to lighten the mood.”

“You can’t do that right off the bat in Japan,” Naomasa said. “You have to build up those kinds of friendships then start teasing.”

“That’s the one thing I miss about America,” Kuryuu said, finger absentmindedly following the wood grain in the elevator paneling. “I miss the friendliness. You all are polite here, yeah. But it’s not… friendly.”

Naomasa looked at his partner out of the corner of his eye.

“They’ll warm up to you,” he found himself saying. “Trust me. But you just have to tone it down. Be a little more considerate. Be just as polite.”

“I’ll try.”

“And the first thing you can do is formally apologize to Yuasa. The last thing you want is for forensics to dislike you. Upset one and you’ll upset the entire team. That’s how evidence testing ends up getting delayed.”

“Yeah, I’ll apologize to her alright,” Kuryuu said under his breath and a twinge rocketed up Naomasa’s gut.

“You’re lying,” he stated matter-of-factly, receiving a groan in response.

“Alright, I promise to apologize to her.”

To the senior detective’s relief, his body didn’t react to the man’s words. He was being truthful.

“Good. Now here--” he pushed the manilla folder into his colleague’s chest. “I’ll leave calling to you. Just tell the manufacturer that we have a serial number of one of their music boxes that was used in a possible homicide and that you want to know if they have records of who purchased it.”

“I get it, I’m not a total greenhorn,” Kuryuu said. “I won’t bumble it up. I never do.”

That… was true, Naomasa noted silently. Though Kuryuu was racking up his share of personnel problems, professionally he worked beautifully. His reports were concise and always on time, he was never late to work and if was assigned to a task, he would see it through to completion. Even the victims they worked with sung his praises.

It was just his colleagues that bore the dislike for him.

The elevator ride went quiet, both sets of eyes watching the floor numbers increase.

“Why’d you have to point out the fact she changed colors,” Naomasa groaned, rubbing his forehead.

“It was just a bit of teasing, Naomasa. Nothing hurtful meant by it.”

“If you don’t like her, why just keep things curt and polite?” he suggested. “She’s really the best, Yuu. I don’t want to get on her bad side.”

“Don’t like her?” Kuryuu looked at his partner, brows furrowed in surprise. “I thought it was obvious. I kind of have a thing for her!”

Naomasa blinked, caught off guard by the declaration.

Even more surprising -- his body registered Kuryuu’s admission as truthful.

Chapter Text

‘Are you nervous?’

Irritated, your thumbs hovered over the keyboard of your phone. What kind of question was that!? Of course you were nervous! Your foot was shaking wildly, a knot was pulled taut in your heart and the train ride was getting unbearably long.

‘I’ve been better,’ you wrote, hoping Yume would get the hint. She did. After sending a series of gifs related to hugging, she sent one final message before your train pulled into your stop.

‘It’s only first day jitters. You’ll be fine!’

Odaiba Research moved fast with their onboarding process. Frighteningly fast. The day after you accepted the apprenticeship position from Doctor Kravitz, you were emailed a bundled of paperwork you had to fill out, in addition to consenting to various background checks for the clearance levels you would need to possess.

You figured it would be a solid month, maybe longer, before your first day.

Not two weeks later.

How could a lab move that fast? Especially a lab of such pedigree? Wouldn’t they want to take their time vetting new hires thoroughly? They were dealing with sensitive quirk and support research relating to heroes -- they couldn’t afford to hire just anyone.

Unless they had a sizable amount of resources dedicated to investigating applicants.

You swallowed at that thought, your nerves getting worse.

The lab’s campus was just as beautiful and imposing as you remembered and you felt like a fish out of water as you shuffled inside, doing your best to look at ease. The receptionists behind the large desk in the lobby were the same ones who had greeted you during your tour. Of course, they had no recollection of you.

“New hire?” the woman behind the counter repeated after you explained what you were there for. She looked to the other receptionist beside her, silently asking if they could provide some kind of explanation. All they offered was a confused stare. “We usually bring people in quarterly,” she said gently. “Have them go through orientation workshops all on the same day. Could you have gotten your start date confused?”

Clumsy fingers pulled up your email as you silently cursed at how long it was taking your phone to load. Despite being a hub of activity, the lab was in a bit of dead zone service-wise.

“Yes!” You displayed your screen to the receptionist. “Doctor Kravitz said to come in today.”

After the receptionists had a bit of back and forth, they finally got Kravitz on the phone who did confirm that you were starting today, to your immense relief.  At that point, you were beginning to worry that everything had somehow been a massive mistake -- that you weren’t hired after all and even believing you had what it took to work in such an organization had all been a pipedream.

You told as much to Kravitz when he appeared after a considerable wait, prompting a laugh from the much older man. He considered you for a second, smile still plastered on his face.

“Oh no, it’s no mistake,” he said. “The entire team has been waiting for you!”

You thrummed at the acknowledgment, ego doubling in size.

People were waiting for you!

After exchanging a couple more pleasantries, the scientist was leading you deeper into the building, taking you to the security office to get your badge printed and biometrics done.

“You’re a special case, you know,” Kravitz said, glancing over his shoulder. “I had to go a little higher up the food chain to get permission to bring you on during a between period. But you’re such a rare case of talent that the lab couldn’t afford to miss the opportunity!”

You face went red and you laughed loudly, waving your hands at his back.

“I wouldn’t say that! I’m not that good!” you chuffed.

“Now, my assistant Emily will help you out after lunch,” Kravitz said, ignoring your half-hearted show of humility. “She’ll explain the small picture stuff about benefits and how to use the intranet. A crash course orientation, if you will.”

He ushered you into a small room where a jackalope-like person, dressed in a navy blue security outfit, was sitting behind a desk. Kravitz, who apparently knew the guard on a first-name basis, explained who you were and what you needed.

“Rika here will get you all sorted,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezing once the conversation ended. “I have to go meet with a colleague upstairs. When you’re done here, take the elevator down the hall to the basement. Our lab is the third door down.”

He left you then with Rika -- she went over basic security rules as your hand and fingers were scanned, most of which involved refraining from holding doors open for people. And then she took your picture.

As you waited for your badge to print, you were texting a non-responding Yume about what Kravitz had said about you.

They had been waiting for you.

You!

Twenty minutes later, you were standing in mayhem.

About a dozen people were flittering around the lab Kravitz had told you to meet him in, ignoring you as they bounced from desk to desk. It didn’t take you long to surmise they were searching for something and that their hunt took precedence over acknowledging you.

So you stood out of the way, painfully aware that every second that passed only made you look more awkward.

“Oh!” You glanced in the direction of a shout. A girl was looking at you. “You must be the new apprentice!”

Gliding past increasingly panicking coworkers, the girl bowed and introduced herself as Emily, Kravitz’s personal assistant.

“You’ve come at a bit of an odd time,” she said after your quick introductions. She was gesturing to the chaos of the room. “We have Endeavor coming in later this afternoon and someone,” she sighed, glaring at a red-head boy who was crawling on his hands and knees beneath desks. “Lost a hard drive with old designs on it.”

“I told you three fucking weeks ago to save everything to the OneDrive, Soh!” A dark-haired woman shouted at the flinching red-head. “A hard drive!? A hard drive is our backup!?”

“I was going to back it up on the cloud!” Soh whined. “But I…” he trailed off and you could have sworn he mumbled forgot.

“Oh, you better pray we find that hard drive before Kravitz gets back.” The woman said, shaking her head. “Otherwise you have to tell him you lost all his files.”

“I just...” A man in a lab coat had a hand on his forehead. “I don’t get how you didn’t save it to the OneDrive, Soh. It probably would have been faster and easier than copying everything over to a hard drive. I can’t wrap my head around your decision making.”

“We have bits and pieces saved to our team’s OneDrive,” Emily explained, turning her head toward you. “But the older stuff has been taken off of different computers over the years. It contained probably close to fifteen years worth of designs and concepts. Including past Endeavor stuff, which is why we wanted to have it.” She frowned. “But now everyone is in panic mode since we can’t find it. ”

“There is no we.” The earlier woman snapped toward you and Emily. “Soh here was responsible for it. He volunteered to back-up all the data and he didn’t. Why volunteer for something if you don’t have the time to do it!?”

“It was a low priority!”

“What’s going on?”

You watched as the lab assistant and scientists froze, turning to look at who had just walked in the front door.

Kravitz.

He was glaring at the mess but his gaze immediately softened when he caught sight of you.

“Soh lost your hard drive.”

Several eyes landed on a blonde girl who had been standing quietly in the corner, surprised at how quickly she had snitched. Soh looked like he wanted to melt into the floor.

“Hard drive…” Kravitz repeated, brows furrowing. “What hard drive?”

“The design one.”

He repeated the words silently before everything clicked and his eyes widened.

They fell on Soh.

“I thought you were going to upload everything to the OneDrive,” he said quietly. Before he had a chance to respond, Kravitz was glaring around the room. “What are you all standing around for!? This isn't a team meeting! Keep looking!”

You swallowed, sneaking a glance at Emily out of the corner of your eye, unsure of how you should take such a stressful moment. She seemed tired and looked to be… pitying Soh.

Was this normal?

Your heart sank.

Kravitz had moved and was talking quietly to Soh but, judging by both of their faces, it was not a conversation you wanted any part of. Emily turned to you, partially obscuring the dressing down Soh was receiving.

“It’s just stress,” she muttered under her breath, offering you a tight smile. “He gets this way whenever we get close to a deadline. Or a big-name hero or board member is coming in. He’s got a lot riding on his shoulders right now.”

“Oh,” was all you thought to say.

“Found it!”

A short woman with the features of a rodent held up something triumphantly in her hands.

A hard drive .

“Oh thank god,” Soh actually said, deflating in relief that he didn’t lose 15 years of work. Kravitz didn’t seem as relieved -- he was gesturing for the woman to bring him the hardware that had been causing them all such a headache.

“I want this place cleaned before Endeavor gets here,” he ordered. “It looks like a bomb went off and we need to--”

During the search, a floor fan had been moved -- its power cord pulled tautly.

Collectively, you all watched the woman overlook the long black wire that was stretched in front of her. Her left foot caught on the cord and she stumbled forward, trying to catch herself from falling but ultimately failing.

She landed on the floor with a hard thud.

The hard drive, which had weaseled free from her hands during her freefall, landed on the tile floor with a smack.

Horror.

“Mikki!”

But you were stepping forward, hand slightly raised, time too short to explain what you were doing. 

The hard drive!

Triumph filled Mikki as she-- She stopped, standing in front of the desk she had been rummaging around in, the hard drive raised in her hand.

Why did it feel like…

Looking around the room, she realized all eyes had fixated on the newcomer who had been standing next to Emily. She was rubbing the back of her head.

“Sorry to just use my quirk on you without asking!” you said. “I only had a couple of seconds to react.”

“What was that?” The earlier dark-haired woman asked. “Mikki just went… backward.”

You winced. There was something profoundly personal about sharing your quirk with a room full of strangers.

‘But they’re not strangers, they’re co-workers now.’

“I have a time quirk," you said. "I can manipulate things and people and reverse them. Rewind them. Not far -- only a couple of seconds. But you have no idea how many times its saved me from messing up cutting fabric.”

You laughed lightly. Emily was the only one to crack a smile.

“Mikki!” Kravitz said after a deep breath. “The hard drive. And please, watch your step. ”

She nodded, carefully moving across the lab, still slightly confused over what had transpired.

“Did I… did I go back in time?” she asked Sho quietly after handing off the drive to Kravitz.

You weren’t sure what the response was -- Kravitz had taken a deep breath before moving to stand in front of you, a large smile on his face. He was nodding his head ever-so-slightly.

“I knew you belonged here,” he said, voice firm before turning to introduce you to the team at large as the new apprentice. “I know she’ll be quite a valuable addition to our team. She’s quite the talent, you’ll see.”

You blushed.

You didn’t get a chance to meet Endeavor with everyone else that afternoon, though you weren’t quite sure whether you more relieved or disappointed. In fact, you didn’t even see Kravitz the rest of your first week either, spending most of your time with his assistant Emily. She was the one who got you set up with a laptop and all its security peripherals. She was also the one who showed you how to sign on to the network and use the intranet before taking you around to personally introduce you to the team.

With the stress of losing something so important gone, your new colleagues all seemed friendly enough. Most afternoons everyone ate together in the cafeteria and, apparently, on Fridays everyone wore jeans.

The second week was when Kravitz reappeared. He took you aside and after listening intently about how your week had gone, he dropped your first assignment on you.

“Endeavor is preparing to enter another ‘age’ of hero work and wants to mark the occasion with a new suit. I want you to be part of the team that works on it.”

“E-Endeavor’s suit!” you repeated, bewildered. You barely understood the process of submitting fabric and material requests through Odaiba's system and he wanted you to help work on the number one hero’s costume?

“Connect with Mikki sometime in the week,” he said, ignoring your hesitancy. “She’s the lead on the design. Anything she needs I expect you to help her with.” He stopped before he left, turning to look at you, as if he forgot something. “I have complete faith in you! This should be nothing for someone of your talents!”

Your ego didn’t swell with that compliment. Instead, you forced an uneasy smile.

Mikki had been in the meeting with Endeavor and quickly explained what was going on.

“Oh we’re not making anything yet,” she said to your immense relief. “Normally we draft up a dozen or so design ideas for him to consider. Last week’s meeting was to get a sense of what he was looking for. The next meeting will be our examples that will be whittled down from there.”

“I’m so used to designing something based off the initial meeting,” you said with a groan that Mikki giggled at.

“No, no, we’re much more thorough here. So let’s see, right now it’s just me and you working on concept ideas and Endeavor is due in on Tuesday. I’ll take care of nine if you want to do the rest? We’ll settle on fourteen, what do you think?”

Five designs in less than a week!?

You had to keep your jaw from falling to the ground as Mikki listed off all the things to keep in mind and other aesthetics Endeavor wanted to include before showing you examples of her past work.

Your heart sank even more. They were technical. Details were blown up on the sides, fabric types were suggested.

No, these weren’t sketches you could potentially drum up in a few hours.

Shit.

But somehow, whether it was a combination of motivation and stress (complimented by a few late nights), by the time Saturday rolled around you had four designs ready and a fifth near completion.

Which meant you had a chance to enjoy the quality friend time you had scheduled with Yume.

To celebrate your first two weeks at Odaiba, you decided to have a throwback night. An ode to days long past where you would have a sleepover, sit around, talk, eat junk food and watch soap operas. They had started in middle school and extended into college but had grown increasingly rare once you and all your friends reached drinking age.

But it seemed like a perfect, stress-free weekend idea. It would give you a chance to decompress and swap stories.

Maybe her first real work week was just as horrifying as yours.

Besides, the timing was right. All Might was out somewhere relatively far away, which meant the odds of him showing up unannounced at your door had fallen considerably.

You idly wondered what he was up to. You hadn’t communicated with him since his last visit and there had been no All Might sightings broadcasted on the news.

Oddly, you had the strongest urge to text him. Just to say hello. Maybe to check in on him. Pride stopped you though -- you didn’t want to be the one to crack and break the silence. You should have been used to it by that point anyway, the lack of communication.

Why was time making it harder?

Mid-afternoon, a knock on the door roused you from your couch. Yume was early but you didn’t mind -- you had a lot to get off your chest and she was the perfect ear.

But Yume wasn’t waiting at the door for you.

It was two large men.

“Are you…” A round-nose man squinted at a clipboard. “Art-san?”

“Art-san?” you repeated, brows furrowing.

Art-san.

Artisan.

They were looking for Artisan.

“... What’s this in regards to?” you asked, hand gripping your door tightly in case you needed to slam it shut.

Not that it would have done you much good. Thanks to the worst building maintenance man in all of existence, it was still broken.

“I’ve got a delivery for an Art-san by a Mr. Might. Is this you?”

Might!?

… All Might?

“Uh yes,” you said slowly, debating whether to accept it or not. “I’m… Art. It’s for me.”

“Alright, we got a bed for you. Wanna show us where you want it?”

… A bed?

“Wait…” You held your hands up. “What do you mean a bed?”

The man’s eyes flickered over to his companion before he turned the clipboard to you, showing the listing he had.

One large-quirk bedframe. One large-quirk boxframe. One large-quirk mattress.

Large-quirk?

“Are you accepting or rejecting this delivery, miss?” the man asked, weariness straining his voice.

All Might bought you a bed?

“I’ll accept it,” you said. “Uh, follow me. My bedroom is back here.”

You grabbed for your phone as you passed the couch, showing the two burly men where they could put the bed. They looked around the room, muttering to one another while you fired off a rare text to All Might.

‘Did you buy me a bed!?’

“Do you mind if we move things to get it to fit?” the other man asked.

Did you have money to tip them?

“Uh yeah, sure,” you said. “Do whatever you need to do.”

“And this old mattress, can we take it?”

You stopped at that question, looking down at one of your more prized pieces of furniture.

What if you hated the bed he bought?

“N-no,” you said with a level of uncertainty. “You can leave it against the wall or something. I want to keep it.”

The men look at each other and you could have sworn one sighed.

“Alright,” the other said. “Sounds good.”

To your surprise, a third man was waiting for you at your front door when you left your bedroom.

Actually, waiting wasn’t really the right term -- he was busy looking at your lack of door handle. The two delivery man bypassed him completely, leaving you gripping your phone as you stared at the newest intruder.

“Can I help you?” you asked, mentally steeling yourself to chase out a possible bandit from your home. But the man was elderly and he smiled warmly before standing and greeting you politely.

“I’m here to fix your door,” he said. “On behalf of a Mister Mighty.”

Mighty.

What was he playing at?

“O-oh.” Was that allowed by your building? You weren’t sure but it had been weeks since you had been able to lock your door properly. Sure Japan was a safe country but even you were starting to get worried about the liability an unlockable door had. “Okay. Uh, just do whatever you need to do.”

And, like clockwork, Yume peeked her head into your house.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, returning a smile and wave to the very nice handyman. You coughed.

“Just getting some work around the house done, that’s all. And my new bed is being delivered.”

“You didn’t tell me about any of this!”

To your relief, she didn’t look suspicious. Instead, she dropped her overnight bag on your couch and handed over a plastic bag.

Inside, two large sweet potatoes.

“I forgot,” you lied. “Work stress and all that.”

“You have to tell me all about work!”

You glanced over the handyman, who was humming pleasantly while he took measurements of the doorway.

“Uh, how about in a bit?”

The small talk you and Yume launched into while waiting for privacy changed course once pieces of the bed were carried through your living room. She shot an amused grin at you upon seeing two box springs pass by. The mattress itself must have been some sort of memory foam -- it was vacuumed sealed in plastic and drug by, it's size undeterminable.

“What size is it?” she asked and you faltered.

“Uh…” You couldn’t lie, she was going to be sleeping in the bed. “Well, I decided to upgrade to uh, large-quirk?”

“Large-quirk?” Yume repeated, confused. “Is that a size?”

“It was an impulse buy.”

“I assume it was made for people with large physical quirks…” she looked you up and down. “Sweetie, I think you would have been fine with a king.”

While one of the delivery men carried away your broken frame, the other returned with a piece of paper you needed to sign.

“Mister Might took care of the cost,” the man said. “Just sign here and we’re set.”

“Mister Might?”

You kept your face steady as you signed and thanked the delivery man with a handful of yen that you had stashed away in your purse.

“Who is Mister Might?” she continued, aware of your lack of acknowledgment.

Looking back, there were a million things you could have probably said. Your favorite -- a pseudonym you created to use a coupon or something. Or a family member who gifted you the bed as a very late birthday present. Or Mister Might was just the brand of the mattress!

None of those came to mind. You were put on the spot and, as you floundered for an explanation, you kept quiet.

It was probably the most damning thing you could have done.

“So, that’s who you’re seeing. Mister Might,” she snorted. “It sounds like a wrestler name.”

“Let’s not talk about this tonight,” you groaned, looking at your friend. She shook her head.

“I think tonight is the perfect night to talk about it!”

Yume was kind enough to keep from broaching the subject until after the handyman left. He was so nice and explained that, although he put on a new handle on your front door, you should look at getting the entire thing replaced. It was old and looked like it had been through a war with the number of dents and scars it bore.

Then, he mentioned Mister Mighty.

“He already covered the cost,” the man explained. “So we are all set here. Have a nice night!”

You accompanied him to the newly fixed door, trying your best not to seem bothered by the eyes burning a hole in your back.

Once it was closed (the first time in weeks ) and locked (the first time in weeks), you turned to face your reckoning.

“So is it Might or Mighty?” Yume asked, leaning on the back of your couch.

“It's nothing worth telling you," you said. “It’s not even that serious!”

“Well obviously it's serious enough that he would buy you a bed. And what’s with the door? What happened to it and why did he fix it?” Her eyes narrowed. “Did he break down your door?”

Yes.

“No!” you exclaimed. “No! It’s just…” Think. “He has a strength quirk and accidentally breaks things sometimes. He broke the door handle and… felt bad. So he fixed it for me.”

“What about the bed? Why’d he buy you a new bed? Did he break that too?”

Honestly, you were surprised she connected the dots to quickly and you gaped at her. A normal person would have thought it was some weird sex thing and brushed it under the rug. Not Yume. She liked to pick things apart.

Apparently, you were friends with Nancy fucking Drew.

“He’s a big guy,” you groaned. “It wasn’t on purpose.”

“So you lied to me. He bought the bed. He picked out the size of it. It makes sense now, a big guy would want a big bed. A large-quirk bed.”

“Yum--”

“It has to be serious enough that he would want to shell out the money to buy you a bed,” she said as she stood. “A fling isn’t going to just drop money like that. Unless he was rich.” She raised an accusing finger at you. “You have a sugar daddy.”

“If you ever say that again, I’ll jump out of a window,” you groaned. “I do not have a sugar daddy.”

“I call it like I see it. A rich man buying you things, a secret romance? What is he, some kind of politician? A businessman?”

Mortification melted away.

Unintentionally she was giving you an out.

“Yes, okay,” you said with a sigh. “He’s a pretty public businessman who dates on the side. That’s why everything has to be so secretive around him. That’s why I don’t like talking about him.”

“What, did you sign some kind of contract?” she asked.

“Well, let’s not get too outlandish here--”

“An NDA agreement? Is he some kind of closet masochist who wants you to be his little submissive pet?”

You blinked at her.

“What are you--?” It struck you. “No! Yume!” You were stuttering. “I-I’m not doing some weird 50 Shades of Grey thing!”

“Oh okay. Mister Might? Sounds vaguely similar to Mister Grey. What’s his first name?”

All.

“Alright, let’s drop the topic,” you said loudly. “Because I hate it and it’s not true. He’s just a rich guy who likes privacy, that’s it.”

“If I saw him, would I know him?”

You stared at her. With the mask? Absolutely. Without his mask? You had to think, but you weren’t sure if the public at large knew what All Might looked like without his mask. The first time you had seen him without it, you had been surprised.

“Yes,” you said. “You would probably recognize him. Now… can I tell you about my job? Or is my love life the only important thing about me?”

A beat of silence passed between you.

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “Let's talk work.”

An uneasy truce fell between you as mid-afternoon shifted to evening. Although the sour of secrecy had left a bad taste in both of your mouths, a comfortable familiarity was settling. Instead of a soap opera, you had chosen a reality show. The sweet potatoes Yume had provided as snacks were in the oven baking and she was listening intently as you moved from your job responsibilities and team to explaining your fears over your new position.

“It’s a lot of pressure,” you said, fiddling with your fingernails. “He keeps telling me that I’m special or something and I’d hate to mess it up.”

“You’re not going to mess it up,” she stressed. “He just wants you to feel like a member of the team. It’s normal to kind of, build-up the new guy.”

“My worry is…” you trailed off, trying to think of the best way to explain your thoughts. “What he’s saying doesn’t align with what I’ve provided. The way he talks about me, you’d like I’d won the Nobel Quirk Prize. But my stuff is pretty average.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself!” Yume said. “Accept the praise! He’s one of the lab’s more notable figures, so having someone like him interested in your work is an honor! Don’t worry about it so much.”

“I really don’t want to mess this up. This is my big chance. And you know what happened last time…” you trailed off. “I don’t want to get fired again. I don’t think I can take it.”

“You were young and dumb! Everyone makes mistakes and you’ve learned from yours. Just keeping working and you’ll be rewarded. You’ll see.”

Simultaneously both of your phones went off.

“Uh-oh,” Yume said, reaching for hers first. “Looks like All Might is at it again.” She paused before looking at you. “Might? He’s not your secret sugar daddy, right?”

Your heart and stomach both exploded.

You were dying.

Oh god, you were dying.

“I’m kidding,” she said with a roll of her eyes when she saw your face, mistaking your expression to be one of disgust, not one of absolute terror. “It looks like he’s down attacking the Americans in Okinawa.”

With a shaking hand, you reached for your phone, heart still palpitating.

Calm down. Calm down. Even she didn’t believe it was true.

Nancy Drew.

Yume was correct -- reports were starting to filter out to the media that All Might had attacked an American military base down south. It was obvious the details were still emerging -- the news alert itself was only a sentence long. You frowned.

He had gone after the military?

American military?

“Those poor people,” Yume muttered, tossing her phone away. “You’d think they would have put him away in Tartarus by now. Or, you know, killed him.”

You kept your mouth shut.

… You hoped he was okay.

“But, going back to what I was saying, I think you’re experiencing imposter’s syndrome.”

“Imposter’s syndrome?” you repeated tightly after another brief silence, keeping your phone directly by your side. But you were glad the subject had changed.

“We have these Women in STEM virtual workshops like every month. You’ll see, you’ll start getting the emails soon. One recent one we had was mental blocks people can get that keep them from applying for jobs or doing their best in the current positions. One of them was called imposter’s syndrome. Basically, a person will think they’re not good enough to be in the role that they’re in. Like they're a fraud.” She took a sip from the glass of wine she had sitting on the living room table. “I’m pretty sure that’s what you’re experiencing.”

“I’ll have to look into it.”

“Don’t hang onto this… inadequacy. You get that way a lot. Take the compliments Kravitz is giving you and just keep working. You’re looking too much into it.”

You sighed, itching your jaw.

“Okay.”

To drive home the point, Yume quickly leaned in and flicked your forehead. You jerked in surprise, pulling away in case she was preparing for another physical attack.

“Stop getting in your head so much. Look at things rationally, okay? If you didn’t deserve it, you wouldn’t have gotten it.”

The show you were watching revolved around a bunch of twenty-somethings living quietly in a townhouse in Tokyo. It was background noise mostly, something mindless you could watch between breaks of the conversation. You didn’t know any of the ‘storylines’  but that didn’t seem to matter much. Mostly you and your guest commented on people’s outfits or lamented about how much you wanted to eat the food they were preparing.

“Ooh,” you said, stumbling off the couch. “I have to go check on the potatoes!”

They had another half-hour or so to go and looked to be cooking fine. Having already stood up, you took the opportunity to go to the bathroom.

When you were finished, you decided to take another side trip and peek at your new bed.

Upon seeing it, you wanted to kill All Might.

The thing was massive. Far bigger and wider than any king size bed you had ever seen, bordering on matching the length of your small bedroom. Your night table had been pushed out of the way entirely, a small mirror you had near your old mattress was in the center of the room. Speaking of your old mattress -- it was flipped over, resting against and covering your drawers and blocking your closet.

But the size of the bed still boggled your mind. A giant could sleep comfortably in it. It was much taller and much wider than All Might.

You could kill him.

You should have declined the delivery.

“Yume!” you shouted. “Come here and check out this bed.”

“It’s big, isn’t it?” she asked when she started down the hall at your beckon. “Large-quirk must be huge. I mean, if it needs two box springs that’s a big-- are you joking?”

She stood gaping beside you, taking in your newest piece of furniture. With a wide-eyed blink, she turned toward you.

“Send it back,” she said and you laughed.

“I didn’t even know they made beds this big.”

“It legitimately takes up half your room.” She was shaking her head. “You have to send it back, you can’t keep it.”

“This is the bedroom. It’s fitting because now I can’t fit anything else in here but the bed.”

“Was he trying to be funny? Is this some rich guy joke or is he really this big?”

“You can sleep in the bed with me if you want,” you said, avoiding her question. “I mean, it’s gonna be a little bit of a squeeze but I think I can find the room.”

“Well…” Yume sighed, looking over your old mattress, chewing on her lip. “I guess I should let you know he’s been calling your phone.”

You looked at her.

“Wait, what?”

“When you went to go check on the potatoes your phone started ringing and hasn't stopped since. A honeypot emoji and a rabbit? I assume that’s him.”

You left the room, glancing at the time on your microwave as you passed the kitchen.

Seven o'clock. 

Eight missed calls--

A ninth was starting up and you rejected it. Yume had trailed back into the living room behind you, watching you struggle to send a text message that you couldn’t talk at the moment. But after each call reject, he was calling back. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

Just before call thirteen started, you managed to send him a single message, ‘Friend over, can’t talk.’ After you rejected that call, your finger hovered over where the red phone button would be in case he went for call number fourteen.

It didn’t ring.

“Well,” Yume cleared her throat. “That was stalkerish.”

“He’s just…” you trailed off when your phone vibrated.

He had sent you a picture of pants.

You quickly shut off the screen, flipping it around and pressing the glass against your thigh. Although you didn’t look long enough to see details, you had an idea what he had just sent you and the last thing you needed was Yume to accidentally catch a glimpse.

“Let’s not start into this again,” you groaned, hand still on your phone. “Can’t we talk about your personal life now? Tell me Yum, seeing anyone?”

“Nope!” she said brightly. “And if I was, you’d be the first to know! Hell, you know when I go on a Tinder date!”

“Your just more open about this stuff then I am.”

She made a face that clearly said, ‘you and I both know that’s not true.’ You drew your mouth into a tight line, gripping your phone when you felt it go off again.

This man was going to be the death of you.

Yume's eyes flickered from your face to your phone before landing back on your face. She deflated, the hands on her hips falling to her sides.

“Listen, I respect you and your choices. I trust you. But I’m concerned about how this guy is treating you.”

“Oh come one,” you said, rubbing your face. “Don’t get all self-righteous on me.”

“Self-righteous!” Yume rolled her eyes. “I’m worried. This guy he just… he doesn’t seem right.”

“You don’t even know him!”

“Exactly! I’ve been your friend for how many years? This is the first guy you ever dated that you haven’t brought around!”

You had a snappy retort lined up but at the word ‘date’ you lost your thunder. 

“I wouldn’t exactly call it dating…” you muttered and Yume gestured wildly at you.

“Sugar daddy or not, red flag!”

You scoffed, tossing a couch pillow at her. “Get out of here with your sugar daddy stuff.”

“There’s something off about the whole situation you’re in.” She was walking back around the couch, taking a seat on the other end and reaching for her phone, her brows furrowed. “You don’t bring ‘the man’ around, he’s breaking stuff in your house, he keeps calling you. This is the same guy who gave you all those hickies a few weeks back, right? When we went to the Korean conference?”

‘Ah shit,’ you winced and the reaction made her swell up in triumph. ‘She remembered.’

“All I’m seeing is red flags. How long have you been seeing him?” Yume threw up air quotes as she spoke the last two words and you shifted your jaw.

Truth or lie? Truth or lie?

“A couple weeks,” you said, splitting the difference.

She pointed at you.

“You’re lying.”

“Fine, don’t believe me.” You were bristling up, appalled she didn’t believe your half-lie. “I don’t have to prove anything to you anyway.”

“When did you get so…” she paused, screwing her face up as she searched for the proper word. “Antagonistic?”

“Antagonistic!?” You snorted. “I got antagonistic the moment you started up with your holier-than-thou attitude! Last time I checked, I’m an adult capable of making my own decisions. I’m not an idiot and I don’t need you coming around hounding me about things you don’t even know about!”

“I’m your best friend!” she said, voice rising slightly as passion was interjected into your conversation. “It hurts that you don’t want to share this with me! What, do you think I’m going to judge you or something?”

“You clearly are judging me!” Your voice was also getting higher and louder, matching hers. “Literally, rewind the clock back fifteen seconds!”

“Honey, you’re confusing--”

“Now you’re getting condescending!”

“-- concern with judgment!”

“Yum, come on, I think I can handle myself--”

“Humor me. Please, humor me for like five minutes. I just want to ask you some questions about your relationship--”

“This is--”

“-- Please. I’m begging you. If our friendship means anything to you, just answer these questions. Please.”

The levity in her voice made the argument in you die. Her hands were pressed together, face twisted into a pleading frown. You inhaled deeply and loudly, before closing your eyes.

“What kind of questions?”

“Just answer them truthfully. Yes or no. You don’t need to give details, just honesty.”

“What kind of questions, Yum? What is it, a Buzzfeed quiz?”

She was tapping away on her phone and you reached for your water bottle that had been left forgotten on the table, uneasily shifting your gaze between her and the television. A new episode of the show you had been watching already begun to autoplay -- you had no idea what was happening anymore. There were new faces.

“Ready?” Yume asked and you glared and shrugged in response, not sure about the direction she was heading in. “Now, these are questions about him, okay? First one -- does he admit to his mistakes? Does he accept responsibility for his behavior?”

“What is this?” you asked. “What, do you think I’m getting abused or something? Yume, just drop it, okay? I’m fine. If I wasn’t fine I would end things.”

“Just answer them. That’s all I ask. Does he accept responsibility for his behavior?”

“Yum--”

“Does he accept responsibility for his behavior?”

No.

Well, sometimes. He seemed… apologetic enough with the whole lab incident. That’s admitting a mistake, right?

“Yes,” you lied after an exagerrated sigh, signaling how done you were with the whole situation. You gripped your water bottle tighter, trying to keep the same apathetic face.

Your phone went off.

Yume pursed her lips but continued.

“Does he accept your word? Give you the benefit of the doubt?”

I mean, there was the whole hero fucker comment. But you told him you only had eyes for him. He trusts you…

Right?

“Yes…” you answered, though there was some uncertainty in your tone. Catching yourself, you nodded firmly at Yume, an attempt to make it seem as if the wording of the question had tripped you up, not what it was asking.

“Does he ask, not expect? Is he willing to comprise? Does he accept change?”

… Yes? Well, no. But also yes.

Mostly no.

“Yes,” you said after a tight swallow. “Honestly, we haven’t been seeing each other for very long, so it’s hard to answer these types of questions--”

“Does he refuse to intimidate or manipulate? Does he respect physical space and express himself non-violently?”

That’s a hard no.

“Yes,” you responded. Yume lowered her phone, looking at you tiredly. You flared up. “Yes! Listen, if you’re not going to believe me--”

“Does he communicate openly and truthfully?”

Maybe? Well, he basically refused to tell you his name…

“Most of the time, yes.”

She didn’t like that answer. Her frown grew in size.

“Last question -- does he value your opinions? Does he listen non-judgmentally? Is he understanding?”

Is he understanding? You had to keep yourself from releasing a sharp laugh. No, you wouldn’t call All Might particularly understanding.

“Yes!” you answered. “Yes, yes, yes! What is this? What are you trying to get at?”

“Basic questions to determine if your relationship is healthy.” She turned her phone toward you so you could see the chart she had been reading from. “Any ‘no’ is a red flag. But according to you… your relationship is fine.” She narrowed her eyes. “Assuming you weren’t lying.”

You were rubbing your face again, mussing your eyebrows as your hands traveled over your eyes. There was a pinching inside your skull -- you weren’t sure if it was a headache brewing or the side-effect of the adrenaline from your disagreement .

“You always do this,” you snapped, glaring at her when you removed your palms from your eyes. “You always come in and make me feel like shit about my life.”

Yume looked dumbstruck, caught off-guard by the venom in your voice.

“I never want to make you feel like bad--!”

“That’s bullshit.” You could feel anger and nerves pricking the back of your neck, making your hands shake and heart pound. “I get it Yume. Honestly, I do. You’re the golden child. The one who has her life together.”

“I think we’re getting off topic here,” Yume said, holding up her hands to try and settle you down. “I just want you to be happy and safe!”

But you couldn’t. She had opened the Pandora’s Box of your emotions and all your stress over the past couple of weeks manifested itself into anger.

Anger at her.

“I’m the fuck-up of the group.” Your lip was curling slightly as your hold on your water tightened. “The girl who got fired from her first good job. Who went and worked at her shitty lab while everyone else went on to live their awesome lives. You always have to swoop in to save me, don’t ya Yum? First in school, now in the real world.”

An awkwardness was settling over the room. You were ready to unleash while Yume was simply taken aback. In the entirety of your friendship, she had only seen you get mad only a few times over minor stuff. This… this was something more.

“Hey--”

“You’re not my mother. I didn’t need you to coddle me. Rescue me. I didn’t need the Odaiba Lab job. I was doing just fine on my own.”

But as quickly as your rage and flared up, it was fading. You felt drained -- you didn’t have the personality or motivation to go after your best friend.

A tense silence blanketed your living room but neither one of you wanted to be the first to break it.

A minute passed. Then two.

You didn’t like it. You weren’t one to snap out in anger.

You were so stressed.

“I was doing fine,” you reiterated, but it was less toward Yume. How many personal storms had you weathered? How many times did you think your life was on the brink of capsizing, only for the clouds to break and the rain to stop? “I’ve always been fine. I always made it work.”

You'll be fine.

A beeping started going off from the kitchen. Yume eyes flickered in the direction it was coming from before falling back on you.

It was okay.

It always ended up okay.

“I don’t know what I have with him,” you grumbled, ignoring the loud and repetitive sound. You had fixated on a pillow. You were talking at the pillow. “He has his issues. And it might not be the picture of something healthy. But I like him. And I think…” you shrugged at the pillow. “I think I can handle him.”

“But long-term?” You heard a sigh. “I… I don’t want you to cling to someone because you don’t want to be alone.”

Don’t want to be alone.

“What are these, the best years of our lives?” She continued with a wry smile you didn’t see. “Don’t waste time on someone who doesn’t deserve you! You’re worth more than that. That’s all I’m going to say.”

You still wouldn’t look up, the beeping was continuing and Yume cleared her throat.

“I know you can handle yourself,” she added and you flinched, already regretting your outburst. “I only step in because I want you to be at your best. I want you to be happy. I’d offer to stop but… I don’t think I could if I wanted to.”

You cracked a smile at that. At least she was being honest.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“The potatoes are done,” you mumbled, standing. “I’ll get ‘em.”

“Well, we unpacked a lot of emotional baggage tonight didn’t we?” Yume called from her seat on the couch as you stopped the shrill beeping and removed the golden sweet potatoes from the oven. The smell was divine. “And we didn’t even finish the wine yet! Can you imagine what we're going to be talking about in an hour?”

“It’s your fault,” you called back. “I would have been just fine keeping everything inside.”

“Please. You and I both know that's a lie.”

You were groaning, rubbing at your eyes. But the reaction wasn’t because of Yume -- you had checked your messages to see what All Might had said.

He hadn’t said anything.

He was showing you how he was feeling. And judging from the photos of tenting pants and underwear, he was in a good mood.

What do you say to something like that?

You debated sending him something sultry to spur him on. Granted, you wouldn't be opposed to getting such lecherous pictures at the moment. They would help take your mind off things.

But you were sitting next to you nosey best friend on a couch.

You sent him an crocodile emoji.

To your surprise, a grey typing bubble popped up almost immediately, though the last picture he had sent was several minutes ago.

‘What does that mean?’

You read his question before putting your phone into the pocket of your sweatpants, choosing not to answer it.

“I’m sorry,” you said with a sigh a short time later, handing off a plate with a potato to Yume when you returned to the living room. “I didn’t mean to get nasty with you.”

“Already forgotten,” she said with a soft smile.

Ah, the good ol' Yume non-apology.

“So, we spent most of tonight talking about me so far…” you blew at the forkful of potato guts while Yume changed the television show to something a little more interesting. “What’s going on in your life?”

“Not much, really. Oh! Speaking of Endeavor, he has a new hero at his agency that our team is looking to support. From what I understand, he has feathers that can act independently of his body.”

You furrowed your brows.

“What, like they have a mind of their own?”

“No, I think he can control them but I don’t know the specifics yet. I don’t remember his name either, we just got word of him like two days ago. He just broke onto the scene very recently. Young too -- in his early twenties, I believe. We’re meeting with him next week to see what’s going on.”

“That’s awesome,” you said, stirring up the contents of your potato as a sitcom started up. “Talk about a cool quirk.”

A frozen nose.

That was the first sensation that you recognized as you slowly woke from your slumber.

With a groan you shifted beneath chilly covers, a deep sense of cold having take residency in your core. You leaned over to check the time on your phone, recognizing in the dull light from the screen that you could see your breath. It was two in the morning.

Looks like you didn’t layer enough.

Carefully you removed yourself from the bed as to not wake Yume, plodding out of your bedroom and closing the door behind you before heading into the considerably warmer living room.

Yume could manipulate the temperatures of people, objects and locations. When she slept, the control she usually had over her quirk relaxed and she would plunge most rooms into a near-frozen tundra. Unlike some of your other friends, you never minded sharing a room or bed with Yume. If you layered up enough, you were usually fine. Most times you slept through the night peacefully, other nights you’d wake up and need to take a break to warm up.

Thankfully she slept cold. You could not imagine how terrible it would be if she slept warm.

Being boiled alive entered your thoughts.

You stretched out on the couch, your body already nagging you for a bathroom break. But you didn’t want to get up again so soon, your senses still dulled by sleep.

Unlocking your phone, you scrolled boredly through Instagram before finding your way onto a news website. The major story was still about All Might -- the main picture was a large crater. After staring at it for a couple of seconds, your sleep-addled mind informed you that an entire building had been erased by All Might. One of several, according to the cutline.

You didn’t click on the story, an uncomfortable sensation was in your stomach. Instead, you opened up your earlier conversation with him.

Close to seven hours had passed since he asked what your emoji had meant.

You cracked.

‘I’m glad you’re okay,' you wrote, sending it before you had a chance to hesitate. Of course, almost immediately you regretted it. You scrolled up again, looking at the images of his clothed arousal.

You felt kind of bad that you didn’t indulge in his obvious sexting hopes but…

You leaned your head on the back of your couch, tossing your phone beside you.

It stung a bit knowing he associated you mostly with sex.

Idiot.

What else did you expect?

A soft buzzing sound caught you by surprise and you glanced down. It wasn't just a text -- your phone was ringing. A honeypot and a rabbit. Casting a quick glance in the direction of your bedroom, you answered the call, shifting to keep your bedroom door in your sights before muttering a soft ‘hello?’

There was a long, heavy yawn in process on the other end.

“Late night worrying?” All Might eventually asked, voice thick and raspy with fatigue. You exhaled a quiet laugh.

“I couldn’t sleep for other reasons,” you offered. Judging from the sound he made, you assumed he liked that.

“What kind of reasons?” He had a teasing tone, undoubtedly hoping you’d admit to something frisky in such a late hour. You shook your head though he couldn't see it.

“Reasons that don’t involve you.”

“Don’t involve me? Ahh, so you’re missing me already.”

“Okay, it sounds like you’re fine. I’m gonna hang up and go back to bed. Goodnight.”

“So you wanted to check up on me...” he said, smug but also mildly surprised. 

Why was it a surprise to him?

“You went after an military base. That was a little concerning.”

It was his turn to laugh. But it wasn’t his usual, boisterous laughter. It was weaker. Breathier.

Was he feeling okay?

You were about to ask but froze, another explanation for his faint voice creeping into your mind.

Maybe he had someone with him?

The thought stung considerably.

“When will you be back?” you asked before he had a chance to respond to your earlier comment about his target. His laughter died, replaced with a low growling sound of contentment.

“Three weeks.”

You stared at your feet in surprise. That was a week longer than you expected. Longer then he told you originally.

“Oh," you said. The disappointment was obvious. "Okay.”

You heard shifting on the other line that was joined with the rustling of covers and squeaking of a mattress. Instinctively your ears strained, listening for evidence that another person was in bed with him -- a sigh from being disturbed or a voice asking what he was doing.

But there was nothing.

He was groaning into the phone as he stretched, a loud exhale making the speaker crackle when he was finished.

“So the bed was delivered?”

The bed!

It had completely slipped your mind and a new surge of energy swept through you.

“What kind of bed did you get me?” you hissed quietly and you could already hear him chuckling. “It’s huge, All Might. It takes up half my bedroom!”

“And the door, that’s fixed too?”

“Yeah, but can we get back to the bed--”

“Good. I’m looking forward to trying it out when I get back.”

You snorted at his crassness, earlier thoughts weaseling back into your mind. Of course he's was going to turn your conversation to something sexual. “Yeah, okay. We’ll see.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t like being told what I’m going to be doing. I’m not a piece of meat, you know.”

He sighed and you heard him mutter, "Not this again."

“Maybe I don’t want to have sex with you next time you visit,” you whispered. “Maybe I want to just sit on the couch with you. Maybe I just want to cuddle with you.”

Silence.

And then, laughter.

Deep, throaty laughter that would have surely awaken anyone that was laying beside him. Eventually he settled down, falling into a series of dry coughs before humming into the phone in amusement. 

“Alright sweetheart,” he said, his humor clear as day. “If you’re still so adamant about it when I get back, I’ll coddle you--”

No. Cuddle.

“But I’ll expect a favor in return.”

“A favor?” One of Yume’s red flags raised in your head. “What kind of favor?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” he groaned, breathing loudly as he stretched again.

“All Might--”

“I’m a busy man, not a school girl, I’m not staying up all night to gab with you. Goodbye. Oh--” He stopped short of hanging up, bringing the phone back to his ear. “I won’t forget that you ignored the gifts I sent you earlier.”

“The bed?” you asked, confused. You could feel him roll his eyes.

“The pictures.”

Crotch shots.

“Gifts?” You repeated with a low laugh. “I think they were more for you than for me.”

“Next time, I expect a better response. Not a lizard.”

“Crocodile,” you corrected. “I sent you a crocodile.”

“Kitten...” he warned which only made you chuckle, the distance and time between your next meeting making you bolder. "With a reaction like that, don’t ask things from me.”

“Fine,” you said, a slight whine though you were grinning. “I’ll be more… receptive next time. So long as I’m able.”

“I don’t like that answer.”

“I’m a busy girl, hon. I’ve got a job and a life.”

He grumbled.

“But I’ll try, ok? Deal?”

“You sure you want to make a deal with the devil?” All Might asked, voice perking up with delight. You scoffed at his corniness.

How could such a scary villain say such lame things?

“Goodnight, honey,” you answered, ignoring what he said and purposely sweetening the last word.

You heard him chuckle before the line was disconnected.

Chapter Text

Work.

That was your life.

Work.

You’d wake up. You’d go to work. You’d stay late. After work, you'd go out with your coworkers, who also stayed late. You’d come home. You’d go to bed.

And the next morning, it was all repeated.

The upside was that you became friendly with your coworkers fairly quickly, especially Mikki as she was the one you had been working with the most.

The downside was that you had no ‘off’ time. When you were awake, you were thinking about work. When you were working, you were thinking about work. While you were out with everyone to ‘decompress’ after work, you were talking about work. You had even started having work-related dreams.

And weekends -- that was just some extra time where you could finish the work that you hadn’t gotten around to.

The worst part?

You were only a couple weeks into your job.

Hiding a yawn, you and Yume snuck out of the office one afternoon to take a walk around Odaiba's campus. In an attempt to ease the concerns of upper management and the board, walking ‘trails’ had been installed around the lab's buildings some years back to help push the notion that Odaiba was all about a proper work-life-health balance.

Most employees didn’t use them, however, for fear of being labeled as a workday slacker.

“Don’t worry,” Yume stressed as you lamented about your loss of brain cells. “That’s how it is here, at first. Newcomers have a hard time matching the pace. Give it some time and you’ll settle into the role.”

“I’m worried about it though,” you grumbled, bracing yourself against a cold breeze rolling across the harbor. “You know all those designs I worked on for Endeavor? They didn’t even use them. I was working on them for days, Yum. Mikki told me Kravitz said we had too many options and he whittled them down to four of her designs.”

You sighed. Yume frowned, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.

“She’s worked with Endeavor for years,” she offered. “She knows what he likes.”

“I had hoped that at least one of mine designs would have been included. I don’t want them to think I’m… amateurish.”

“You gotta grow a thicker skin. No one is thinking about your feelings -- they’re focused on what the client wants. Frankly, you don’t matter.”

“I know that,” you said with a slight bristle. “I just don’t want Kravitz to think I’m useless or something.”

“I guess the upside to you being an apprentice is that you’re supposed to be learning.” Yume shrugged. “It gives you an out.”

But you didn’t want an out.

You wanted to excel.

Kravitz was not a hands-on boss. He was a rare sight in the lab having to attend to more important, visible, business. His assistant Emily acted as his eyes and ears, checking in and handling any questions or concerns that arose from any of his underlings.

Mikki had… warned you about her during one of your nights out. You had admitted to the mouse-woman that you thought Emily was very personable. And she was! If you had a question, she was quick to answer. She always said hello and stopped by your desk to see how you were doing and to make sure you were acclimating well.

“You just need to be careful what you say to her and what you do in front of her,” Mikki said, flushed from her third glass of wine by that point.

You were taken aback by her words and actually asked what she meant. You wanted her to elaborate -- she had dropped a potential bombshell. The woman shifted, eyes darting to look over to your other coworkers. They all seemed to be in deep discussions about a new project involving a super-stretch hero who needed a costume.

“Her loyalty is with Doctor Kravitz,” she said carefully. “Just remember that.”

The message felt ominous but, when you relayed it to Yume a few days later, she waved it off.

“Please,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “All assistants are like that. They’re all brown-nosers.”

It... made sense.

Kravitz came to you that same afternoon during a Skype meeting you had with another team of support scientists -- the Black Hole hero Thirteen was shopping around for a new suit. It was far more complicated than stitching some special fabric together, it needed to act as a container for the hero’s body.

There was a reason Thirteen's costume looked like something an astronaut would wear. 

But, as an apprentice, you weren’t supposed to give any kind of feedback. So, you just listened, mind wandering as fatigue started to dull your nerves.

You were just starting the slight head bobbing motion when there was a tap on your shoulder.

You jumped.

“Can I steal you for a few minutes?” Kravitz asked when you lifted an ear of your headset. You nodded, a sinking sensation in your stomach, as you closed out of the meeting and followed him to an unused conference room.

The sinking only got worse.

You were going to get fired, weren’t you?

“I wanted to check in and see how you were doing!” Kravitz said, taking a seat at a long conference table, gesturing for you to do the same.

“Oh I’m doing great!” you said, praying you sounded nonchalant and not squeaky. The dread will still there -- you felt it mostly behind your nose. It almost felt like it was going to start gushing blood at any moment. “Getting into the swing of things.”

“I’ve been hearing good things about you. Everyone values your work,” Kravitz said. At the praise, your guard weakened. Maybe... you weren't going to get in trouble. “It’s all, ‘She’s so good at this,’ or ‘She’s so responsive about that.’ You’re doing excellent work!”

A nervous laugh escaped you, one tinged with relief.

This was not a firing conversation.

“That’s really good to hear,” you admitted. “I get worried about stuff like that.”

Kravitz grinned.

“Well, you shouldn’t. You’re something rare and I’d be remiss if I didn’t try and polish up that potential you have. You've got the makings of a world-class support scientist, no lie. In fact..." He leaned in, eyes flashing. "I want to personally pull you into two projects I’m working on.”

Excitement.

“Endeavor has given us the go-ahead with one of the designs Mikki drafted. I want you working on that with her. But, there’s something else I want your help with. Because you are just perfect for it.”

Your heart soared.

“Okay!” 

“I’m going to be starting item testing in a few weeks for a few devices that we’ve been tinkering with that contain explosive material. The issue we have is that these devices, if they're improperly designed, can… detonate.”

To drive home the point, Kravitz, mimicked an explosion with his hands. You nodded along.

“Whenever we lose a device, we don't just lose weeks of work, we also destroy some pretty expensive materials. And too much waste and destruction reflects poorly on me and my teams. Basically, we’re at risk of getting our budges cut if the board sees repeated failures under my watch. Which is not fair to the people who work under me. We need all the money we can get. In fact, I spend most days campaigning for more money!”

You continued to nod along.

“But you can really help out the team with that quirk of yours. You can rewind time, correct?”

“More or less,” you said with a shrug, tips of your ears burning. “Only a couple of seconds a couple times a day. Nothing too crazy.”

“That’s a wonderful quirk,” he stressed and you hovered between flattered and… patronized. It was the way he had been talking. Slowly. Like you needed things explained to you.

Stop being a bitch and just accept the compliment!

“Thank you!” you said, brushing aside your thoughts.

"It's nothing technical, truthfully. I need you on standby when we do testing. So, if something was to happen and a device was destroyed, you could be there to bring it back to us. You can be our second chance. Does that sound like something you'd be interested in?"

“Oh yeah, totally. I'd be happy to help."

“That wouldn’t be a problem, correct? We don’t have to worry about any unpleasant side effects if we use your quirk?" He paused before adding quickly, "I want you at tip-top shape! If it causes you pain, it's not worth it. So please, be truthful."

“Oh no, there’s no worries there,” you said, waving away his concern with a laugh. “The worst of it is headaches and nausea, but that’s only if I really push myself.”

“How far back can you go?" He asked, rubbing his chin. "And how many times?”

“The max I ever got was just over nine seconds. But I can’t launch my quirk right after I push myself like that otherwise I will puk-- er, vomit. Generally, if I keep it between four or five seconds, I can use it twice in a row as long as I have a couple seconds to breathe. It's really not impressive. There's not much you can change in four seconds. If my quirk lasted longer and went further back, I probably would have become a hero!”

You laughed, though Kravitz only cracked a polite smile.

It wasn't that funny.

You settled down.

“And your quirk works on people too? We all saw what you did with Mikki, I can’t imagine being able to control more than one person--”

“Two is usually my max. Things get shaky but I can sometimes do three.”

Kravitz whistled, shaking his head in percieved amazement. Pink dusted your cheeks.

“Amazing. Truly, amazing. I’m surprised they don’t have you situated away in some hospital! You’d be an excellent assistant during surgeries. Could you imagine? A slip-up with a medical tool and you could be there to save the day. To save a life…" He tilted his head. "Could you? Could you heal injuries? Surely that’s too much to ask...”

“I mean, once when I was a kid I got a pretty nasty cut on my finger that I was able to fix. I never really thought about it though -- I don’t do well with… medical things. Insides. I want to stick to my fabrics and metal.”

“Oh, of course!” Kravitz said. “But it’s comforting to know if there’s ever an emergency here we have someone with a quirk like yours. I have to say, I’m ecstatic we found out about your quirk when we did. I lucked out with you, didn’t I? Hire you to help with design and, lo and behold, you have a gamechanger of a quirk. You could save a life!”

“I don’t know about that!” you said with another laugh, your pink cheeks having made the jump to vivid red. “I’d only have a couple seconds. I can maybe heal injuries but I don’t about saving lives!”

Kravitz smiled.

That Friday, you declined to join your colleagues for yet another after-work get-together.

You had plans.

Important plans.

A little over four weeks. A month. That was the last time you had seen All Might.

The only time you had heard his voice was when he had called the night Yume had visited.

It was… strange. After that conversation, you had been expecting more interaction from him. Especially since he implied he was going to be sending you a steady stream of lewd texts and photos.

Instead, he went radio silent.

It shouldn’t have bothered you. It was just par for the course with him, after all. Your relationship was built on large spans of inactivity. Four weeks was nothing, really. You had gone multiple months before. The worst part was that he didn’t seem to be busy. There was the attack on the military base, sure, but that was the only big thing he did. Otherwise, it had just been random sightings in a bunch of different towns and cities. Well… he did sink a couple of fishing boats off the coast. And caused a mudslide.

He also made it thunderstorm somehow.

All Might’s silence shouldn’t have bothered you.

But--

It did bother you.

You missed him.

It was dumb and stupid and you wanted to be stronger than that but fuck if you didn’t get hopeful every time your phone went off because, maybe, it was him.

You even thought about texting him on more than one occasion. Thankfully that was an urge you were able to smother. You didn’t want to appear too… eager.

Still, when there was a knock on your door later that night, you couldn’t prevent the giddy smile that split your face. It only grew in size and intensity when you saw who was waiting for you on the other side.

Your smiling face did momentarily surprise him -- All Might had expected something a little more subtle from you. But very quickly his own grin appeared. Too slowly he hunched down, doing his best to lean nonchalantly against your doorframe.

“Surprise, sweetheart.”

You were shaking your head at him, laughing at his ridiculousness. His arrival had been anything but a surprise. Once the door was closed and locked, you were holding your hands up to him, beckoning him down to you. 

Your arms twisted around his neck when he wordlessly did what you asked.

Kisses peppered his face.

“I missed you,” you sighed to him, lips traveling across his cheeks, nose and forehead. All Might exhaled loudly, shoulders dropping as he wrapped you in a near-bone-crushing embrace. “You didn’t--”

Before you could finish your sentence, he had captured your mouth.

You prepared yourself for the impending onslaught of teeth and tongue. 

It never happened.

His kiss deepened, he grunted against you, lifting you along when he stood straight. But the kiss never went beyond his lips crushing, sliding and pulling against yours. It simply see-sawed between modest pecks and more intense lip movements, the sound of soft clicking filling the air. You were blessed with another grunt when you cupped his face. You were doing your best to ignore the fact that it was getting harder to breathe in to his embrace.

Eventually, you broke apart.

You rubbed and tugged his earlobes while he rested his face against yours.

“Don’t go away for so long next time,” you muttered to him, shifting and breaking the silence. It wasn’t just the silence you voice broke -- the spell of your reunion had been lifted. You were being lowered back to the ground, All Might’s thick arms sliding across your back as he released you from his hold.

He didn’t respond, focusing on kicking off his boots before launching into a large, full body stretch that made him groan as his joints cracked and popped. When his hands fell back to his sides, you were grabbing for one of them.

“Come see the bed,” you said, tugging at his fingers.

He quirked a brow, watching you attempt to lead him back to the bedroom. His eyes fell to watch the sway of your hips.

“Not tonight.”

You stopped, looking at him in a stunned sort of surprise while he forced down the smugness that threatened to expose itself. He tried to look tired when he scowled back at you. “I remember you bitching to me about coddling when I got back. So here, sweetheart. I’m going to give you exactly what you want.”

Shit.

He was moving out of your entryway, heading toward your couch while you stood and stared.

… Shit.

Truth be told, an ache had formed in your gut several days ago. An ache that had been getting worse.

An ache he could get rid of so easily.

Did you want to cuddle? More than anything.

But four weeks without him? And feeling his solidness wrapped around you just seconds prior…

You shuddered as you followed him, mind buzzing as your drummed up ways to get him in your bed without resorting to just asking him.

That would be the last resort.

Because there was a very good chance that you’d never hear the end of it.

All Might was fiddling with the remote when you sat down stiffly beside him, bypassing regular television to put on Netflix. Undoubtedly, he was going to find something American to watch.

You were right. He eventually settled on some sort of police drama before grunting and groaning again, propping his feet up on your table as the theme song started playing. 

He looked over to you before lifting his right arm slightly, opening his side up to you.

His move did coax a laugh out of you and, pushing your libido to the side, you shifted closer to him, humming when the weight of his arm settled around you. You nuzzled tighter against his body, cheek pressed against him while your fingers danced circles across his shirt.

He smelled wonderful.

The two of you sat in silence -- All Might stared at the television while you basically laid against him, eyes fluttering as you listened to the sound of him breathing.

“How was your trip?” you finally asked, trying to start some sort of dialogue with him. You missed his voice. 

Shifting slightly beneath you, he exhaled loudly through his nose as his hand fell slightly, curling to settle in your lap. “Good,” he answered dryly.

You shifted your head upward to look at his face.

Was he… mad?

No, he was probably just tired.

He was perfectly fine a couple minutes ago!

After it became clear he wasn’t going to ask about how you had been for the past several weeks, you moved to playing with his hand. It relaxed under your touch, allowing you to bend and move his fingers. Several of yours could fit on one of his.

His hands were so big.

“No injuries, right?”

He grunted.

“That’s not an answer.”

He grunted again.

You sighed.

When you turned your attention back to his hand, he peered down at you out of the corner of his eye.

The cops were talking. A woman had been murdered. A banging gavel changed the scene to a courthouse.

All Might's gaze returned to the TV when you looked up to speak again.

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Shifted your jaw. Ran your tongue over your teeth. Opened your mouth again.

People were talking on the show. What about? You had no idea.

Television was the last thing on your mind.

“I like cuddling,” you said with a sigh, restorting to your last restort so quickly. “I really do. And I really want to cuddle with you more. But…”

He had to hide his smirk when he heard that beautiful word 'but.'

Without removing his eyes from his show, he leaned his head down toward you to signify he was listening. Goading you to continue. 

“Four weeks is a long time…” you trailed off as you lightly began tracing the length of his pointer finger with your fingertips. He opened his hand more to you, doing his best not to jolt under the ticklish touch. Under your breath, you repeated 'a long time.' 

“Is that right, kitten?” he said, a thickness beginning to coat his words. You shook your head, bringing his hand to your mouth.

“I really missed you,” you murmured before kissing each of his knuckles. His grin finally showed itself once more at hearing those words from you. When your lips landed on the knuckle of his pinky, you looked up at him through your eyelashes, cheek resting against his hand. “You sure you don’t want to see the bed?”

He started to laugh.

You took that as a go-ahead and stood, trying to guide him up and off the couch. But as soon as your feet were on the floor, he was tugging you into his lap.

“One more time,” he growled, making it so that you were straddling him. His hands were on your waist, thumbs digging into you plushness and rubbing circles. He was leaning down. “Say it one more time.”

“Mister ego!” He caught your laugh in his mouth, tongue tracing along your upper lip before he was tugging at it. When he momentarily released your mouth, you pulled back. “I missed you, All Might," you admitted, resting your hands on his chest, working to keep yourself from rolling your eyes at him. "You were on my mind. Every. Single. Day.”

To drive home the point, you lightly jabbed your finger into his chest at the end of each word.

A hand landed on the back of your neck as he brought your face back to him. A suck on your bottom lip was followed by the light nipping of teeth. Then, he was on you. Tongue burying in your familiar mouth, smothering and bullying yours. There was no point in trying to battle him for control of the kiss -- he would win. His tongue usually filled up the entirety of your mouth.

So, you did your best to follow along with him. Sharing a breath when he eventually pulled away, having gotten his fill of your taste. He was standing, bringing you up with him.

“Let’s go see that bed,” he said hoarsely against your mouth before pressing his face into your neck.

You really did miss him.

“I watched the news every night,” you sighed, feeling him bump against the couch and table on his way out of the living room. You shivered when you felt his hot tongue glide across your throat. “I was worried. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

His arm brushed against a picture in the hallway, knocking it crooked.

You’d fix that later.

Besides, you had more important matters to tend to: like getting All Might all hot and heavy by simply admitting that you were concerned over his wellbeing while he was away.

Were all villains secretly like this?

Horny for basic affection?

“I wanted to text you every day,” you continued, turning your head slightly so you could make sure Goliath wasn’t going to plow through the closed door of your bedroom.

“So needy,” he said, voice husky and dripping. You were glad he was still too busy licking and sucking your neck to catch -- he didn't catch you rolling your eyes at him.

Yeah, you were the needy one.

His toes bumped into the bedroom door before his body did, much to your relief. Blindly he reached out, smacking the wall then the door, looking for the doorknob. You flinched when he found it, the door flying open and smacking into the wall.

All Might didn’t react to your bed right away, choosing to gently nibble along your jaw and chin instead. When he did finally glance off to the side, to look in the direction of where the bed should be, you felt him vibrate beneath you.

He was laughing.

“I told you it was too big,” you grumbled as he set you down in favor of examining the bed. It had finally been outfitted with proper-sized sheets (which cost a fortune since only certain websites carried the size 'large-quirk'). You watched him stand on his knees on the edge of the mattress, jumping slightly, listening for any cracking sounds.

Nothing. No groaning of a cheap frame or squeaking springs, like your old mattress (which you had finally junked two days before).

Just wonderful silence.

He turned to you, sitting on the edge of the bed. There was a hungry look on face. He beckoned you toward him with a curl of his pointer finger.

“Where are your manners, girl?” he growled, a cruel smile appearing. “You should thank me for giving you such a nice gift.”

“Thank you!?” you sputtered, pulling back, indignant but flushing all the same. All Might scowled. “You owed me a bed! Let’s not get too carried away here now--”

In a flash his palm was pressed against your face, hand gripping your head.

“Your tone,” he snapped, having crossed the distance with mind-boggling speed. In retaliation, you licked his palm, which only made him snort out a laugh. “Oh, I can find better uses for that tongue, my dear.”

You were being pulled by your face toward the bed, only released when All Might dropped back down to sit on it. “Now... show me how thankful you are.”

Aroused excitiment pooled in your gut but you did your best to look unbothered. You raised your chin and tried to look defiant, even as you sank to your knees between his. Pleased, the corner of his mouth drifted upward, knees spreading slightly for you as your hands rested on his thighs.

You kept your eyes on his face as you trailed your hands up his legs to his crotch, gingerly working the button and zipper before stopping and looking at him.

“Think you can help me out?" You asked, voice soft and imploring. "Could you take off your pants yourself?”

He scratched at his chin -- he would have much rather you taken them off. But he was feeling generous.

You slid backward when he stood, smiling sweetly as he dropped his heavy pants to the floor, kicking them off to the side.

It took a lot of self-restraint to keep from trailing over the hunk of flesh straining his underwear.

And the new patch of hair that journeyed down his navel.

You went back to touching his legs when he returned to his seat on the bed, using just your fingertips to dance across exposed skin. The light, ticklish touch made him tense up, especially when you moved to his inner thighs. When a curious finger brushed against the head of his still-covered cock, a tremor thrummed through him.

“That’s it,” he purred, leaning back on his elbows, ready to enjoy the attention.

You became more brazen with your touching, an idea forming. Keeping your innocent smile, you ran your hand over his member only to then turn your attention to another part of his body, bathing it with strokes and gropes. You could see a lovely wet spot forming against his nice blue underwear and pressed against it before immediately relocating your hand down to his knee.

He expected you to start to touch him at length, to release some of the pressure he was starting to feel, but you kept pulling your hand away to place it elsewhere. The minutes ticked by with no relief and he started to shift in place, trying to corral your touch to his hotspot.

Brush against his arousal, move your hand. Brush against him, move your hand. 

At each fleeting touch, All Might grew more agitated.

Finally, when he felt you start to tease him again, his hand flew out and covered yours, holding it against his cock and keeping it there.

“No more,” he snapped, squeezing your hand (and himself).

To drive the point home, he started rubbing his cock with your hand, forcing you to slowly palm him. You chuckled, lightly pushing back against his palm, wanting your freedom back. He rose a brow, a clear warning to you, before eased some of the pressure, allowing you to move and adjust your hand on your own.

You gripped a good portion of his shaft through his underwear, slowly stroking it. He grunted in satisfaction at the touch.

But then your mouth was there, licking and sucking on the head of his cock, tongue probing the still-growing wet spot. You were attacking him with abandon, your mouth moving up and down his clothed cock as you casually jerked him off.

All Might's jaw tensed, ass clenching. His hovering hand stroked the top of your head before he moved it to his navel, his fingers dancing behind the waistband of his boxer briefs, a hint to move to a direct touch.

You smacked at his hand and he pulled it back in surprise, rage flashing across his features that you would be so--

Your tongue was back at the head of his dick, retaining your eye contact. His wet spot had grown exponentially and you could taste the precum oozing through the fabric. You pulled your head back and slid your hands up his legs and under his underwear, rubbing the bare thigh beneath, fingers tracing the definition of each muscle. When your hands continued upward, eventually brushing against his leaking cock, you temporarily gripped it.

Though it was only to move it out of the way.

He shook his head at that. 

“More.” 

You didn't listen -- his balls were your target.

“You didn’t shave!” you said, eyes brightening as you felt much more than stubble waiting for you. You massaged the ample testicles in your hands, pleased when you watched his mouth draw itself into a tight line. “Too busy to trim, All Might?”

He was still scowling at you. “Suck my cock, kitten. You’re taking too long.”

You sat up a bit on your knees, your tongue flicking out and licking as close to his belly button as you could get, brushing against the coarse hair gathered there.

“I’m a sucker for this,” you murmured into his happy trail, ignoring his command. “Now this was a good surprise to bring home to me.”

Home to me.

All Might swallowed and adjusted.

You placed a kiss against him before dragging your tongue down his navel, your chin pushing against the waistband of his underwear. Your hands snaked out from against his legs, grasping at and pulling the waistband of his underwear, tugging the garment down.

Your mouth continued to lick and kiss down his body, your tongue stopping when it reached the base of his cock.

He grunted.

Precum was oozing out the top of his newly-exposed dick -- it already left a glistening mess against his leg that made your mouth water. You blew at his cock, watching in delight as it twitched at the sudden rush of air, your nails scratching at his new mess pubic hair.

All Might shifted his hips.

Carefully, you avoided touching his shaft, instead go for and grasping his balls again in your hands and bringing your mouth against them. You did your best to take as much as you could in your mouth, sucking and licking one while fondling the other.

All Might’s hand rested on the top of your head. You acknowledged his touch by moving away from his balls, turning to lick and kiss his legs.

He had such thick thighs. So tough and solid.

You sucked against the skin, doing your best to leave a mark before opening your mouth and--

A bite!

All Might pulled you up and away from his legs by your hair, glaring that you would be bold enough to try and bite him.

At the same time, his cock twitched at your attempt.

It was in no way painful but still…

He directed your head back to his groin, going so far as to rest his engorged cock against the side of your face, growing even harder at the lewd sight. You laughed, resting your hand on his cock and nuzzling against it -- he released a breathy grunt.

“I’ll remember that,” he warned. You leaned back, straightening out his throbbing member and resting its head against your chin.

“Have some trust in me, honey bunny. I’ll make you feel real good,” you said with a wink before taking his cockhead in your mouth.

Tension dissipated as he felt immediate relief. 

That's it. That's what he wanted.

You released his head with a wet pop before interlacing your fingers and spitting on your palms. You returned your mouth to his cock, slurping sucking and licking as your joined hands pumped his shaft with vigor.

“That's it, beautiful,” he groaned, rolling his head slightly. “That’s it. Good girl.”

He was rocking his hips, trying to match the tempo of your hands while releasing grunting, pleased breaths.

A new kind of tension had taken over his body.

The minutes ticked by as you continued your cycle of pumping, licking and sucking. Your jaw was beginning to ache, your actions getting less defined and more jumbled. All Might, sensing your growing discomfort, was brandishing a tight smile.

You had no idea how long he could draw out his stamina. He was All Might! 

But, you were working so diligently on the throbbing thickness between his legs and he found himself approaching his end far quicker than he expected.

“Keep going,” he ordered, voice thick. A warning.

In response, you increased your ministrations.

He clenched his teeth, careful to keep his hand from unintentionally tugging or pulling your head harder onto him. You had added a twisting motion to your pumping and your tongue felt like it was everywhere.

God did he miss you.

All Might’s body tensed and snorted before hoarsely letting out an, “I’m--”

The hands and mouth were gone.

It was a little shocking actually, how abruptly his building passion stopped. He looked down, releasing a jittery exhale and was greeted by your cheeky grin.

So this was your plan.

“I will kill you,” he snarled, sweat forming at his brow, face alive with fury. But the thought of you denying him pleasure was… somewhat appealing. You ran your hands up and down his torso, waiting for him to cool off. When his breathing was no longer so labored, you started stroking his cock again.

“Honey,” you cooed softly, kissing along his shaft, voice and eyes so warm and sweet. “Let me take care of you.”

He wavered.

All Might attempted to keep himself from getting too excited by your hands and mouth, but you were relentless. Before he knew it, he had started thrusting again, his hand back to squeezing your scalp.

And, secretly, he was a glutton for punishment.

“There,” he found himself saying and, as expected, you retracted your touch. He tried to wet his dry tongue as his body continued to twist itself tighter at each denial. He rubbed his temple, ignoring the obscene way his cock was bobbing and glistening.

When you went to deny him again, he grabbed you by your jaw.

The look he gave you was exhilarating, a strained but furious glower.

“You’re going to regret all this,” he warned, serious. But it was all an act, a way for him to keep face. You rested your hand against his.

“You’re a good sport,” you said with minor strain. When he loosened his grip, you kissed at his hand.

It didn’t take long for him to barrel back toward the edge. You were back on his cock, tonguing and sucking its head while pumping his length rapidly. His hand was painfully knotted in your hair, silently telling you that he was done letting you play your games. There was no way he was going to let you move away for a third time.

All Might didn’t speak, choosing instead to let out heavy, pleased grunts and snorts. He kept his hips from bucking upward into your mouth, but his legs were clenching as he drew closer to popping.

A loud hiss and hair pulling was your warning that he was going to cum. That’s when you created a seal with your lips, pumping his shaft enthusiastically.

His body tensed.

He released a strangled grunt.

And then, his release was oozing up and out, painting and coating your tongue with white.

You exhaled sharply through your nose, trying your best to keep up with the sheer size of his load, swallowing repeatedly and beating down the urge to pull away and drool out all his cum. It was just too much.

And the first time you had given him a blowjob, you had swallowed three of his loads!?

Looking back, you had no idea how. Adrenaline, maybe? Fear?

His hips were still jerking but the amount of cum in your mouth was decreasing. You kept swallowing, trying not to look as overwhelmed as you felt.

He sighed, wiping away the spittle from off of his jaw.

Tentatively, you released your mouth from his dick.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” he warned, an attempt to threaten you for your edging. But it came out as a strained groan that was hard to take seriously.

“It looks like it might have been worth it,” you teased, dragging yourself up onto the bed to lounge beside him. Immediately he turned into you, burying his face into your hair.

“Never. Again.” He hissed, hand falling on your throat, squeezing only slightly. “Never. Again.”

In response, you patted his hand.

You… weren’t going to commit to that.

Apparently, he wasn’t too worried about your lack of acknowledgment either. He kept silent and stayed silent.

One minute turned to five.

He wasn't moving.

Was... he going to fall asleep?

You waited to see what All Might's next move was -- he was laying beside you, breathing deeply, hand still resting on your neck. Although you were wet and ready for him, having him asleep next to you was worth much more than any reunion sex. 

But then he shifted beside you, grumbling under his breath as he sat up. You tried to bury your disappointment in your gut. 

He was changing positions, pinning you to the bed momentarily as he shifted and rolled to his knees. He hooked his arms around your legs and dragged you down toward him, shoving his face into the crook of your neck when you were close.

Breathing quickly turning to frenzied kissing, however, his mouth journeying up your neck to land on yours. You were rendered a bit helpless as hunger exploded in his chest for you once more, his hips moving unabashedly to grind and jerk his still too-sensitive cock against your body, his hands tugging at fistfuls of your hair in an attempt to pull your face closer to his.

He was back in control, devouring your mouth, biting down on your lips hard enough that you were mewling into him.

Then he was going back to that beautiful neck of yours, pressing teeth and tongue against your windpipe in a hotheaded haze to remind you that he was power.

“All Might.” Your voice was soft and breathless, your hand petting the bit of neck just under his ear. His ferocity tempered slightly, your humanity returning to him. His arms wrapped around you, digging into the space between your back and the mattress. You braced yourself, half expecting him to toss you across the bed or room. But... he didn't move.

It was a hug!

Something inside you broke.

You were glad All Might couldn’t see your face.

A hug!

Pull yourself together!

You slid your arms under his, curling them up toward his shoulders, returning the affection.

“I’m glad you’re back,” you said into him, squeezing him. Trying to let him know what you were feeling with actually saying it.

You wondered if he understood. He didn't say anything. He just laughed before moving to help you peel off your shirt. His face lit up when he took in the sight of the red lace of your bra, approving the choice.

But, it didn’t stay on for long.

His face moved to your breast when it was exposed, his hands pulling away so he could rest his weight on his forearms. When his mouth enclosed around your comparatively tiny nipple, you jerked at the contact, a loud inhale catching his attention. Enraptured by your reaction, he sucked a bit harder. Your body twisted, the quietest groan escaping.

He laughed at you, watching as you rubbed your eyes and forehead in shame.

“They’re sensitive, okay?” you hissed.

He responded by switching attention to your other nipple, rolling the one he left between massive fingers. You were biting at your hand as he mauled your body, doing your best to prevent your cries from escaping. In the silence of the room, your commotion was not hidden.

His hand enclosed around your wrist as he pulled your hand out of your mouth, his bright eyes leering at you in the darkness.

“I want to hear you."

“Ugh,” you snorted, your body flushing with embarrassment. You were not one to happily make those loud mewling and gaspy sounds. But he was still tugging, nipping and licking your nipples. You could feel his eyes boring into your face.

Your teeth were clenched, still stubbornly refusing to acquiesce to his demand.

He skewed a bit rougher, grasping a nipple between his teeth and pulling it upward.

You moaned, your back lifting at the pleasurable pain he was inflicting before you gnashed your teeth together in shame. You felt his grumble of appreciation at hearing you, continuing, his motions turned to pulling and pinching.

You could feel it, the whimpers and whines bubbling in your throat. Your body was trembling and reacting to his mouth. Your hand was pulling at his hair. There was rumbling, he was laughing as you finally cracked and released a breathy gasp followed by a low ‘god.’ Then another moan.

Perfect.

You felt him leave your breasts.

He brushed the hair from out of your face, admiring how wildly it was spread around you.

Then, he leaned his forehead against yours.

When your lips eventually touched, your kiss was long and deep, both of you dissolving into each other.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, cupping and stroking your face. You were such a sight at that moment, a gorgeous creature grinning up at him. You shook your head, red-faced, glancing away before looking back up at him.

And then he was moving, sitting up to better pull your jeans and panties off. Aside from a pleased hum at seeing the matching red underwear, he didn’t acknowledge your choice of attire. Not that you minded. You were chewing on your bottom lip, waiting.

His large thumb traced up and down your slit and you twitched in response at the touch of an outside hand. Then he was pressing inward to find your clit. When the pad of his thumb came across that magic little button, he pressed slow circles against it. You brought your knuckle back to your mouth as you felt the beginning waves of pleasure.

As he kept on going, your hips slowly began to follow his motions.

All Might quickened the speed of his thumb and dipped one large finger in you, curling it to brush and press against her inner walls. You sighed as your hips rocked at his entry. Just one was enough to get you off.

But you wanted more.

And he was more than happy to indulge you.

You were a sight to behold, writhing in front of him. Because of him. He swallowed, forcing himself to continue his preparations by adding a second finger.

All he wanted to do was pin you down and fuck you into the floorboards. But he couldn’t.

At least not yet.

Just a little bit more…

He was scissoring the digits in and out of you when he shifted down to his belly, hungry tongue flicking out to taste your sex.

You groaned and blindly reached above you for a pillow. When your fingers brushed against one, you grabbed it and threw it over your face, pressing down to keep yourself quiet.

He needed more.

All Might pulled his fingers away to allow his mouth to take over your pleasure, treating your pussy as if it was another mouth. You could feel his lips melding and pulling against your sex, tongue burrowing to brush and prod your insides. The sound of wet kissing and slurping filled the room.

He was so big. His face was so big. He was just… big! And the sounds! 

You shuddered and whined at hearing his pleased huffs.

You pressed harder against his mouth, cursing his name.

Swirling and dancing, his tongue landed on your clit, his two fingers reburying themselves back into you, pumping and scissoring.

“A-Ah--!”

The friction on your clit was stinging in the most rousing of ways. You involuntarily groaned and pulled the pillow down harder, almost willing to suffocate yourself. Your pelvis was starting to grow tight, your lower body rising up to further push yourself against All Might’s hands and mouth.

When he looked up to watch your face and saw the pillow, he grabbed it, flinging it across the room behind him. You didn’t register it disappearing -- his mouth leaving your clit caused you to cry out in frustration and lean up. With ragged breaths, you gave him a combative glare.

That look!

His thumb found your nub again and he was grounding against it, flicking it with such ferocity that the hair on the back of your neck was standing up, your final countdown beginning.

“Oh!” you whimpered into your knuckles, unable to hold his gaze. His eyes were still trained on you, watching your face contort in pleasure. Your head lolled backward and you grabbed at the comforter. You could feel the springs inside you being twisted, growing tighter as each second passed.

“Please,” you growled, bearing her teeth slightly as your jaw clenched and your toes curled. “Harder. Harder!”

He kept the speed the same but pushed his thumb forcefully against you, his blood on fire.

Your breathing had reached a crescendo. One ragged breath. Another an octave higher and louder. And then one great inhale…

You bucked and shuddered when you came, you breathing coming out in ragged gasps. You were twitching and turning, trying to mumble out something about his still-pumping hand. A break! To your immense relief, he removed it from your sex without much fuss.

You were thankful, so thankful, as your body vibrated and twitched with aftershocks.

But he was hard again.

You felt some large situated itself at your entrance as he maneuvered himself over you. Your eyes flew open, coming face-to-face with his chest.

“P-please!” You needed a bit more time than that--

He was pushing in.

You cried out, eyes rolling slightly as you felt his thickness already start to split you in two. Lube! You needed lube!

“Nightstand!” you yelled at him, beating his chest with a fist. “Lube!”

Oh.

You were right.

All Might's cock pulled away. He was shifting and moving across you. The sound of a drawer opening rang out, followed by the sounds of its contents being shuffled around.

When he returned back over you, a bottle was in his hands.

You relaxed when you felt something cold and wet drip across your sex before being swept across it and pushed inside. More squelching -- he was coating his cock.

Much better.

Having been properly prepared, his member was back at your entrance, pushing into it and stretching you wide.

Your eyes were closed as you felt his hips roll above you, your focus centered on the slow and steady rhythm of his thrusting. He was too big. A woman-ruiner. How could anyone else ever compare? But you craved him. Though your penetrative sex life was still young, your mind had already started to covet his length and thickness. He was too big and that was perfect. He was perfect.

You opted to tell him as much.

“You’re perfect,” you said, reaching and pulling at the bottom of his shirt, signaling you wanted it off. He exhaled in annoyance (he had hoped that maybe you wouldn't notice) but didn’t put up a fuss. Without breaking his momentum he pulled his shirt off his body, leaving you face-to-face with the bare skin of his torso.

He jerked his cock in deeper to you, a tremor running through him at the weak little sound you made.

He could crush you.

Things were stretching out, All Might recognized. It didn’t feel like he was bumping against a wall anymore. He grunted, allowing himself to openly start enjoying the sensations of your body. The way you were rippling around him, how tight you were, how enclosed he felt. 

Then he heard it, the tinkle of your laughter. You had recognized he was relaxing, your own body following suit.

But laughter wasn't what he wanted to hear from you at the moment.

He responded by slamming into you harder.

You let out a strangled yelp as the pain flashed.

He did it again. Again. Again. Again. Again.

Oh, he missed you.

As he sped up, he put more force into his movements, growling in pleasure as he listened to your gasps and cries.

“All Might,” you whimpered, surprised at how quickly he had moved to more brutish behavior. You needed more time to adjust to him as there was still pain.

But he was fucking you, pushing relentlessly into you, something primal awakening within him at how much he missed the feeling of everything. He was All Might, the physical manifestation of power. The bed and frame were silent, but they were still shifting at each thrust. You were still mewling underneath him.

His grunting grew louder.

“Oh, I like your sounds,” you sighed into him, eyes fluttering, forcing yourself to speak up. 

You rubbed his torso, kissing and licking any bit of skin near you. Soreness had replaced the pain. You felt full. You felt your insides being brushed and stretched. You felt good and it was thrilling to see, hear and feel a carnal All Might using you.

Inhibitions were long gone and you felt no shame when you started whispering his name, trying to get his blood going.

“So good,” you groaned with a smile, your hand roaming down to rub and press against his pelvis before moving to his scar. Tracing the curves of the puckered skin, envisioning the shape and size of each branch of his disfigurement. “I need more. Harder. Fuck me. Fuck me, All Might.”

Without warning or acknowledgment he rolled himself over, hand gripping your waist to keep you attached to him as he flopped onto his back on the bed.

He shifted, planting his feet on the mattress as his hands dug into your hips, satisfied that he could thrust more comfortably.

Your head fell back at the change of position and the slight headrush that went along with it.

God did it feel good.

All Might’s face was wild -- he was wearing a snarl as the veins in his neck bulged. His eyes were fixated on your joining, watching as his slick cock repeatedly disappeared into your tiny body. He was getting close, he recognized with disappointment.

Far too quick.

“Mmmm,” you hummed, your hands resting on top of his as you jolted up and down. “Such a strong man. So big and hard. I won’t be able to walk right when you’re done with me.”

You bit your lip to prevent your laughter -- he let out a deep groan. Apparently, it was doing it for him.

“Get nice and deep,” you sighed, rolling your hips out of sync for some fun. At least you tried to, he wouldn’t allow it. He dug his fingers painfully into your flesh as he forced you to bounce properly on his cock.

He tilted his head, a vivid blue eye meeting and boring into yours. It was a warning, you recognized.

A sultry, crazed smile split your face and you attempted again to spark his ire.

When he plunged you down on him, you clenched up and grabbed the sides of his waist, your legs clamping against his thighs. He inhaled at feeling your insides grow tighter but he hadn’t been expecting your resistance. His hands slipped up your body when he went to thrust you up -- your body staying firmly put.

All Might jerked up roughly, his hips bucking off the bed, easily breaking your grip on him.

“Fuck!” you cried out, for once loud and clear, head falling forward as he easily punched through your defenses. The power shuddered up your spine and rattled your brain with a sudden hot haze.

You folded, you were out of the game. You wanted him to be in control.

“Oh, wow.”

In his lust-fueled fog, your words and apparent surrender were maddening. He gripped you tighter.

“Say… my… name,” he rumbled, his speed increasing to an absurd tempo.

“All M-Might!” you cried out, voice rattling as your body rapidly lurched up and down. You were rubbing his lower stomach, trying to grind your hips against his whenever they connected. Your own orgasm had suddenly appeared on the horizon.

He had taken over completely, his lower body leaving the bed every time he smashed up into you. His breaths were coming out in ragged huffs, his one lung working overtime, fingers digging into your body. He was losing it, you saw. Desperately reaching his end.

God, he was a sight.

“Come in me, honey,” you pleaded, meeting his eyes. You weren’t wearing some cocky grin -- you looked meek. You looked desperate. Your mouth was agape, eyes fluttering as you jerked and bounced on his dick.

It was no mutual lovemaking, you were being fucked. All Might was using you.

You tossed your head back, gritting your teeth as you came, body shifting and jerking as he fucked you through your waves.

All Might broke in that moment. He thumped his head back onto the bed as a loud choke erupted from him. He buried himself into you completely, gasping and straining as he unloaded into your depths, his cock and balls squeezing and twitching as he pumped everything he had inside of you. Filling you.

He was breathing harshly, squeezing your hips as he jerked, coming down from his high. You watched his almost-pained face relax as his body’s reverberations died down. You were panting, stroking his fingers and hands gently, waiting for him to settle his lower body back on to the bed.

You gave him some time to breathe -- there had been something slightly off about him. As you watched him try and recover, it struck you that he was probably exhausted. Weeks of travel was wearing on him.

So, you waited. Watched his laboring breathing normalize. You felt his hand stroke and grasp at your thigh. You poked his belly with your pointer finger, his softened cock still buried inside you. He moved to look down at you.

“You have to help me get off the bed without getting cum on the sheets,” you said, patting the hand he had left on your thigh.

It wasn’t particularly hard, he shifted his body so that, when you finally pulled yourself off of him, the mess of your joining dripped and pooled on the hardwood floor of your bedroom instead of your expensive sheets. 

Your legs felt like jelly.

All Might was still laying on your bed when you came back from cleaning yourself off in the bathroom, paper towels and a sponge were in your hands.

A loud snore tore through him, jolting him awake. The last thing he needed was to fall asleep at your place -- he wouldn’t be able to retain his proper All Might form if he fell asleep.

That was not the way he wanted you to learn about his smaller form.

If he wanted you to learn about.

But… it had been more on his mind as of late.

How nice would it--

He silenced his thoughts, ignoring you as he stood and collected his clothes, leaving the room.

You were dressed in your pajamas when he returned from his bathroom trip and, to your utter disappointment, he was dressed as well.

He was going to leave.

“I need to go rest,” he said, forcing back a yawn. 

“Of course,” you mumbled, tossing the used paper towels into your bedroom trashcan.

Every visit of his ended the same -- him leaving and you spending the night alone. It had been that way for months and showed no sign of changing.

Yet, like a fool, every single time a part of you hoped that, maybe, this time would be different. That he would turn and pull you into bed with him. That’d you wake up trapped in his arms or crushed under his weight. Two uncomfortable scenarios that sounded like heaven to you.

Silence settled over the room.

You glanced over to see what All Might was doing, why he was being so quiet. You expected him to be on his phone or something.

Not staring at you.

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

His jaw clenched and unclenched, his hand resting against his pocket as he continued to look you over.

You looked down, bracing yourself in case there was some kind of bug or creature traveling up your clothing. But you didn’t see anything.

“Here.”

A small black box suddenly struck your chest and you floundered, attempting to catch it, caught off guard by the sudden toss. It was small and rectangular. It was jewelry. You gaped up at All Might, who was scowling, his arms crossed.

“What is this?” you asked.

“Don’t ask me stupid questions.”

Did he get you a present!?

An actual gift!?

Something he picked out, specifically, for you? For no other reason than to make you happy?

Not to replace something he broke or ruined.

You sat back on your bed, face lighting up with joy as you looked up to him.

Your eyes were crinkling with your smile.

Carefully, as if the object could scamper away if startled, you lifted the top of the box to reveal what was contained inside.

It was… a necklace.

A yellow gold necklace.

A yellow gold necklace with an American flag pendant.

You gazed down at his gift for you.

The American flag was covered with small red, white and blue Swarovski Crystals.

A present he had picked out for you.

It was probably one of the tackiest things you had ever seen.

You were in Japan.

Why was…

An American flag…?

You didn’t like it -- All Might caught as much. He was striding over, hand out, ready to snatch back what he foolishly gave you.

He shouldn’t have done it. He should have kept that stupid fucking necklace in his pocket and--

“It’s beautiful,” you said, looking up at his approaching form. You were pushing aside personal style and questions over his taste, instead clinging to the fact that All Might had bought you a present. 

His pace slowed and he glared.

“You’re lying.”

You were shaking your head, taking the necklace out of the box fully.

God, it was so ugly. Out of all the things he came across, this was what he picked to give you?

“An American flag because you love and lived in America?” you guessed, internally praying that was the reason for his choice -- the fact that he was a dork for the United States. When he didn’t answer, you knew that you had guessed right.

“If you don’t like it, give it back,” he snapped. But his anger was tempering.

Maybe… maybe you did like it.

“It’s…” Oh god. Say something good about it. “This is utterly you, All Might. It’s perfect. I love it.”

Love.

He was backing off.

“Are you going to get me a present every time you leave?” you teased, trying to shift away from the tacky necklace. “I know I said I missed you but if you’re going to bring me back stuff…”

“Don’t hold your breath,” he grumbled.

Utterly him.

Love it.

Love.

Stop.

All Might glanced at his phone, checking the time. 

He was tired. He turned to leave, still regretting giving you the gift, but stopped himself. He glanced at you, watching you expertly clasp the necklace around your own neck. 

When you looked up, he appeared to be annoyed and was gesturing you over to him.

“Hurry up, girl. I want to leave. Come and kiss me goodbye.”

That... was a first.

You beamed at his demand for affection.

Dork.

Chapter Text

Routine.

That’s what your life fell further into.

Routine.

Work. Eat. Sleep. Work.

It didn’t get better.

Yume had been wrong in her assessment.

You never caught up with the flow of everyone else. You were running but nothing was getting any easier.

In fact, more work was being piled on.

One month passed. Then two.

You’d finish a project only to pick-up two more.

Stress relief workshops at your lab suggested that you find a hobby to help get your mind off of work. Though it had been years since you’d made anything for fun, you started knitting and crocheting again, hoping it would help settle your brain.

It didn’t help.

You lasted a few weeks. Finished a couple of hats and scarves. Eventually stopped.

No, hobbies didn’t help.

Only sleep helped.

The meeting had been sent to you from Emily on behalf of Doctor Kravitz. A fifteen-minute one-on-one during your usual lunch hour.

While everyone on your team went off to grab lunch together, you made your way to Kravtiz’s office.

He gave you a tight smile when you entered.

“I wanted to check in with you,” he said while you worked to steady your nerves. “See how everything is going.”

Check-up meetings with him weren’t anything new -- everyone under Kravitz had a bi-weekly, if not monthly, chat with him to go over their work.

You quickly ran through the projects you were working on and how they were fairing. Endeavor’s suit was still your primary focus -- the final design had been chosen, you and Mikki had just started the construction of the ensemble. Then there were wristlets for the hero Gunhead you were assisting the munitions team with testing.

Word had also traveled across departments about your quirk. Random emails and meeting requests were being directed to you, asking if you could spare some time to be on standby to potentially save devices and weapons from destruction during their testing.

Kravitz had also entrusted you with gathering financial data from the team regarding last year’s budget to be included in some high-level reports.

You were busy, you admitted with a self-satisfied sigh.

But Kravitz didn’t look enthused.

“My concern is that you’re…” he paused, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “Frankly, I don’t think you’re pulling your weight on these team projects.”

Your insides withered immediately.

You looked at him wide-eyed.

He was staring back at you, face void of any kind of… emotion.

“The team is what matters,” he said. “We succeed as a team and we fail as a team. Yes, you’re helping Mikki out but are you taking any kind of initiative? Or are you waiting for her to give you instruction? Her job isn’t to babysit. And those financial numbers should have been sent to me at the start of the week -- my whole presentation is now waiting on you . As for all that testing, that is something you can do in your free time when the team doesn’t need you -- not now . We’re obviously all very busy. It’s disappointing to see where your priorities are.”

“I...I--”

You didn’t know what to say. It was Mikki’s project, you were only assisting. You didn’t have the authority to take initiative. He had only asked you on Wednesday for those numbers, he wanted them by Monday!? The testing -- most emails you received specifically stated Kravitz had suggested they reach out to you.

Excuses.

Seeing your gaping mouth, Kravitz sighed.

“Work on it. Realign your priorities. You’re brilliant and I still see such potential in you. Don’t let your ego blind you, that’s all!”

The conversation turned to lighter topics and discussions about future collaborations. He was all smiles. Your voice was tight, your responses short and forced. Your sour smile returned his when you were eventually dismissed to go to lunch.

You weren’t hungry after that.

Ego? It wasn’t ego that motivated you, it was a desire to prove yourself.

All you wanted was to seem helpful. Useful. Worth it.

Your appetite was gone.

Instead, you spent the remainder of your lunch hour crying in the bathroom.

You fired off a text to Yume, giving her a run-down of what had just occurred. The perceived blindside.

Minutes later, you received her response.

‘Hey, it’s okay! It just sounds like he wanted to realign your goals, that’s all! Take what he said in stride and roll with it. Don’t beat yourself up, we all lose track of the finish line sometimes. I promise you it wasn’t a bad thing!’

When everyone returned from lunch, no one commented on your puffy eyes.

Your phone was ringing.

With a jolt you pulled away from All Might’s lips, turning in the direction of your nightstand. You could see the name clear as day -- Mikki.

What time was it?

It didn’t matter.

“Don’t you dare,” All Might growled, grabbing your wrist.

“I have to take it,” you said, squirreling away from him, reaching with your other hand. “I can’t--”

You were yanked back onto his body. His patience had been worn thin long ago. Now, it was fraying. Unraveling entirely.

He couldn’t hold your attention.

“If you answer that, I’m won’t be here when you hang up,” he told you evenly. “I’m not going to sit here twiddling my thumbs waiting for you.”

He said that last time, you noted with a tired sigh, but he hadn’t followed through.

“I have to take it. Stop being dramatic.”

By the time you freed yourself from All Might’s aggravated grip, the phone had stopped ringing. Without a glance back, you shuffled out of your bedroom into the privacy of your kitchen.

When you returned her call, Mikki informed you of the issue -- the dark fabric for Endeavor’s costume hadn’t been part of the latest materials delivery. You glanced at the clock on your microwave, blinking at the time.

Why was she still in the office?

“Yeah, I have the purchase order number,” you said, leaving your kitchen to go fish your work laptop out of your bag in the living room. “Give me a second to pull it up.”

As your computer booted, you rubbed your eyes and heard a yawn on the other line.

“You should go home soon,” you told Mikki who giggled dryly.

“I will as soon as I log in the new delivery dates for everything. I just finished his gauntlets, they’ll be ready for tomorrow’s testing.”

She had stopped apologizing for calling you so late. It had become routine.

It was always someone.

Sometimes it was you calling your coworkers, trying to finish project segments or paperwork or reports that you were afraid to put off another day. That you couldn’t put off another day.

It was normal.

You forwarded the PO number to her from your email. She thanked you. You hung up.

The bed was empty when you returned.

You checked -- his boots were no longer by the door.

He really did leave.

Kravitz pulled you off of Gunhead’s project. You weren't pulling your weight. He wanted you to share your Outlook schedule with him. He wanted to see what you were doing at any given point in the day.

He said it was to help strengthen you.

“You’ve got so much talent!” he had said. “I’m just trying to help you!”

You were a failure.

You couldn’t hide and cry in the bathroom forever. The last thing you wanted was for your coworkers to think you were some weepy, emotionally unstable woman who couldn’t handle a bit of pressure.

No. You had to be stronger than that.

You had to prove them wrong.

After cleaning your face as best as you could, you headed back to your desk. You just needed a breather, that was all. You were in a funk -- Yume had suggested it all had to do with the season. The bitterness of winter mixed with the lack of daylight. Dark and cold.

Once spring hit, things would be better. Everything would be okay. The stress would fall away.

When you returned to your desk, you found a fresh cup of coffee waiting for you.

It was a simple kindness that made your heart shatter. 

It was a Saturday night. You had told him you were off from work.

“Get up.”

All Might’s voice sliced through the stillness of your bedroom. You stirred from beneath the covers, exposing your face and squinting up at him.

It was dark.

When did that happen?

“Hey,” you said with a tired smile, sitting up and reaching out to him. “I’m glad to see you.”

He didn’t react to your words or arms.

He had fixed you with a glare.

‘Have you left your bed today?’ The question was on the tip of his tongue but there was no point in asking it. He already knew the answer.

Apathy did not suit you.

“Get up,” he repeated.

Where was the fire for him?

You stretched before flipping up the covers, tapping the bed beside you.

“Come lay in bed with me for a bit,” you said. “Just for a few more minutes.”

He was still glaring.

No.

He didn’t want to.

Your long-dormant group text lit up with life. It was a single message broadcasted to the five or so people in it -- ‘We need to hang out!’

The responses were immediate. It was time for fun again.

You were excited. A date was picked -- the following Saturday. It was short notice, yes, but no one seemed to mind. A bar was thrown out in Tokyo. There was even talk of dancing.

It would be perfect. An amazing distraction and you could see friends outside of Yume! You informed All Might that you wouldn’t be home for him, you were going out. Quickly he was fishing for details -- where you were going and at what time, heavily implying that he would drop by the area. For you.

Finally.

Life was back in you.

You bought a new dress and purse, cleaning out your old one. It felt good trashing the accumulated receipts and finally hanging up the group shot on your fridge. From your girls night that took place however many months ago.

Yes. You were due for a big night out.

That week, when asked, you told your coworkers you had plans that didn’t involve catching up on much-needed sleep. You were going dancing It was going to be great!

Until Saturday hit.

The eagerness fizzled when you opened your eyes that morning.

Instead of taking a shower, you sat in bed on your phone. An hour ticked by. Motivation was escaping you.

Not only did you have to shower, you also had to do your hair and makeup.

And walk to the train. Oh, that was such an exhausting thought. Sitting on the train for an hour or so, all the way to Tokyo. And you wouldn’t have the benefit of sleeping in your own bed -- you were crashing at a friend’s apartment.

Which meant Sunday you would be forced to take the train back and spend the day nursing a hangover.

A little after lunch, you informed your friends you wouldn’t be able to make it out after all. You had a sore throat and mild fever. You had hoped it would pass but it hadn’t. You didn’t want to infect them.

You stressed how upset you were to be missing out on the fun.

No one seemed bothered by your flakiness. Everyone wished for you to get better soon.

The only one to express disappointment was All Might. You told him you weren’t going out after all and were going to spend the night in.

And, for once, he asked why.

You thought about lying, saying you were sick. But you wanted him to come to you.

So you told him the truth. You just didn’t feel like it.

He did visit your apartment that night.

It felt… stale.

Endeavor’s suit was magnificent. It exceeded expectations. Months of toil paid off.

It was the big day -- the final fitting. If the number one hero gave the okay, it would be delivered to his office later in the week. He would be free to unveil it whenever he was ready. The new age of Endeavor.

Everyone was in good spirits, a couple bottles of sparkling wine had been brought in and stashed under desks, ready to be popped. The team had plans on ending the day early. Going out to dinner. Celebrating.

Work hard, play harder.

Everything was going to be okay.

Mikki told you she had planned on saying a few words at dinner. Kravitz was expected to be in attendance, she wanted to let him know how integral you had been, how much of a help you were.

“Oh, Mik, you don’t have to,” you said, though your face said otherwise. The mousey woman waved away your half-hearted attempts at changing her mind.

“No, you put in the work. You deserve it!”

You did deserve it.

As expected, you didn’t get to meet Endeavor when he showed up at the lab, ushered into a nice private conference room upstairs with Kravitz and Mikki while you and the others were hidden away in your windowless basement lab.

No one was working. No one was in the right mindset to work.

What they were waiting on was the party and that could only happen once Endeavor left.

It was during that waiting period that the attack came.

“Damn,” Richard said, wincing as the lights flickered and the rumbling of an explosion shook the walls your lab. “Someone miscalculated.”

“Great. Now we’re going to have to sit through another safety seminar if someone blew themselves--”

An alarm sounded.

Confusion settled.

“Is… is it a test?”

Another rumble answered the question.

As the support lab in Japan for heroes, Odaiba Research Center had seen its fair share of villain attacks over the years and had a variety of safety precautions in place to counter them and ensure safety. There was an emergency alarm system, panic rooms, ample security -- both heroic and robotic. Not to mention, on any given day, the odds were good that some high-level hero was in the vicinity of the compound.

Safety drills happened quarterly. Reminders over protocols were sent out frequently. New hires had to sit through seminars on what to do in case of an actual villain emergency.

But something happens when a real emergency situation occurs -- people forget all those protocols and directions. In times of panic, they don’t calmly assess situations. They don't recall what the employee handbook stated they should do.

No, they run.

You were climbing steps two at a time, joining a swarm of other basement lab assistant and scientists who were all fleeing from the building. The alarm was still blaring, your ears were crackling.

And then you were upstairs.

Chaos.

Great sections of lobby's glass walls had been destroyed, covering the floor with glass shards of varying sizes that snapped and crunched under your panicked footsteps. Fires had started. Structural supports for the building were bent and snapped.

The ceiling was caving in.

You kept running, just one person in the great sea of people escaping.

Safety in numbers, right? That’s what you told yourself. You had no idea who was attacking the building or how many there were. Hell, you weren’t even sure where you were going. It was herd mentality, really. Enough people were running in one direction that everyone else followed.

Until a beast fell from the sky and landed beside the mob, screeching and swiping at the defenseless.

Another one followed suit.

Soon there were four of them, charging and ripping into the crowd. The screams. They weren’t like the screams of fright that you had heard the night you witnessed All Might’s attack. They were similar, yes, but these were more blood-curdling.

Screams of pain.

You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know what was happening.

Everything was fast.

So, you started running again.

Heading in the opposite direction of the villains.

Back toward the building.

Odaiba was an island -- the only way on and off, besides the train, was the Rainbow Bridge. Or swimming. But it was early February and trying to swim across the bay seemed risky.

Well, dying seemed risky too--

As clear as day, you heard your name.

You were behind the building by that point, running along the perimeter, planning on heading toward the bridge in a different direction than everyone else. Away from the villains. At hearing your name a second time, you slowed, looking around.

Yume--?

No.

Mikki.

You could see her. Huddled beneath ruins.

“Mikki!”

You were running to her, flabbergasted why she wasn't running. Why she was trying to hide in the wreckage?

That’s when you saw her arm, sandwich beneath some kind of metal from the building.

She was crying, jittery.

You were… terrified.

“Oh god,” you muttered repeatedly, pressing your hands against the possible steel beam that had her pinned. Her arm was… basically flattened. Trapped beneath such a massive amount of weight.

You couldn’t help her.

“Can you pull it out?” you asked, voice breaking. Mikki shook her head.

The pain hadn’t hit her yet.

The terror of being trapped was far too strong.

Another rumble. Hearing metal wailing, you looked up.

A beam was hanging. Swinging above you.

With wide-eyes, you looked back at Mikki. She mirrored your face.

“Please help me,” she said. Begged. With her innocent face and flicking ears.

And there you stood. With a choice.

Leave your friend to die alone. Or stay and possibly die along with her.

“Mikki, ” you cried, face crumpling, pleading with her to make the decision for you. To make it easy. You wanted her to scream for you to go and save yourself. Or to go find help. To give you an excuse to leave.

But she didn’t. She was crying again. This woman, who had a husband and children, who had dreams and a life -- a beautiful, wonderful life --  she didn’t want to die.

And you didn’t have the strength to turn your back on her.

It wasn’t because you wanted to save her.

No.

You were certain that, if you left, you’d never get her voice or face out of your head.

So, you pushed. With all the strength you could muster, you struggled against the metal beam holding her down, praying for more. Praying for help.

Help.

You reached for your phone with blind hope, dialing All Might.

He could help. He could save you all. Villain or not, he would save you.

The cell phone signal was lost. Too much saturation.

Your call didn’t go through.

He would not be rescuing you.

Mikki’s loud cry tore you away from your despair. You looked at her, expecting to see writhing pain. What you discovered was horror.

You looked over your shoulder in the direction she was staring at.

A monster.

It was a giant lumbering to you. A massive brawny beast with off-colored skin and tattered clothing.

Its eyes were large and unblinking. Two white saucers that stared at you both. Empty. Void of any kind of life.

Part of its skull was missing.

The soft pink tissue of its brain was exposed.

You froze.

You were destined to die, weren’t you?

It’s breathing was loud and labored, its body moved with jolts and unnecessary twitches. And it continued walking toward you.

Mikki was… trapped.

If you ran…

You were turning your body, eyes darting around you, trying to determine what direction to run in. If you had the strength to do it.

Mikki was trapped.

If you ran… she could buy you time.

Could you sacrifice her?

She was crying. You were hesitating.

Do it. Do it.

Run.

Your hesitation cost you.

With a shocking amount of speed, the monster closed the distance. It was snarling, opening its massive, hanging jaw wide. You screamed. Mikki screamed.

Death--

A flash of red.

Another.

The creature was pushed back when several other strands of red appeared suddenly, embedding themselves in its purple flesh. It was making some kind of sound -- a screeching, animalistic cry as it clawed at itself.

“Found another one!” someone called out.

“What did I tell you about getting in my way?” a voice snarled back.

“Ohh, look. We’ve got some people here too!”

Your jaw dropped when you took in the smiling face of Hawks who landed delicately on the ground before you, tucking his wings carefully behind him. Following him, and striking the ground with a resounding thud, was Endeavor.

“You better call back those feathers if you don’t want them burnt,” the hero snapped over his shoulder to Hawks who paused before nodding. The flashes of red had been feathers. You watched as they were summoned from the skin of the beast, slicing through the air to return to Hawks’ wings.

“All good!” the feathered hero said brightly before Endeavor raised a hand.

A vortex of fire erupted from his palm, boiling the air around you as it barreled toward his enemy. It was screaming when the fire struck it, flailing and running in an attempt to escape Endeavor’s flames.

“Don’t go too overboard,” Hawks warned. Endeavor glared at him from over his shoulder.

“You’re useless.”

“I’m helping them now, jeez!”

He knew who you were. You knew who he was. It was a look that lasted a millisecond. A warning he shared as he looked between Mikki and you.

Keep your mouth shut .

You both had secrets, didn’t you?

“Stuck, huh?” Hawks said to Mikki, looking at the beam. He gave it an experimental lift. It shifted. He sighed. “I’m going to need your help with this one, buddy," he called to Endeavor. "I need the big guns for this one. It’s heavy--”

There was no sound of tearing metal. No warning. Just a… feeling you had to get out of the way. A tingle in your gut that made you flinch. You jumped back, Hawks following suit as if he had felt the same primal warning.

The beam that had been hanging precariously above you had broken.

Falling to earth.

Landing where you and Hawks had been standing.

Landing where Mikki was trapped.

Where Mikki was trapped.

Mikki had been trapped.

The beam.

Hawks was looking on in horror. Endeavor had also seen what had occurred, his eyes wide as well.

Mikki.

Mikki was dead.

No.

Endeavor broke away from his attack on the burnt creature, propelling himself over to where an innocent person had been crushed under his watch.

A fatality they could have prevented.

Entirely preventable.

You were scrambling up, clawing and stumbling toward the beam, hands out.

Endeavor was ready to pull you back -- he didn’t want to lose two of you. Wiring was sparking above you all. The building was not stable. He was reaching--

The beam was lifting.

The beam was lifting.

It was a struggle, using your quirk on something that heavy. You were pushing against a boulder, knowing that the struggle was eating away at time. There wasn’t a lot of wiggle room. But you were hopped up on adrenaline, clawing to the idea that you could save Mikki.

You had wanted to leave her.

You had wanted to save yourself.

You were prepared to let her die.

But now you could make up for your failures. You could save her!

Your eyes were squeezed shut, teeth chattering and clenching as you struggled, growing weaker. Your ears were ringing. You had no idea how far back you had turned--

It was too much.

Your concentration slipped. The beam was out of your grasp. It fell. You opened your eyes with a gasp.

Your stomach sank.

You failed.

“Wow.”

Hawks was nodding his head impressed, crouched beside a body. Feathers were nestling back into his wings. It was then you noticed Endeavor dropping the joist he had been lifting.

The joist that had been pinching Mikki’s arm.

The body was Mikki.

“Is she--?”

“She’s alive,” Hawks said, looking her over before furrowing his brows and looking at Endeavor. “Good thing too, this is your seamstress!”

You met Endeavor’s curious eyes, holding his gaze until your nerves gave in and you fell back to the ground with a shuddering sigh, palms seated against your eyes.

… Fuck.

Odaiba Research Center had been destroyed.

A long company email was sent out two days after the attack, signed by the lab’s president and board of directors.

The lab had seen a lot over its long history. Fire, explosions, earthquakes, tsunamis, previous villain attacks--

But it all paled in comparison to the devastation that six beasts were able to bestow about the building and its people.

The email talked about the unbreakable human spirit and how, for the time being, employees were on standby while the board figured out what they were going to do. Until then, a company remembrance was scheduled for the following week to honor the sixteen people who had died in the attack and the dozens more who were injured.

Everyone from your team had escaped unharmed.

“Don’t go,” All Might told you after you showed him the email.

He called your cell phone twenty times after learning of the attack. At each call that went unanswered, he had grown more certain that you had been either killed or seriously maimed. Your voicemail had been filled with his growling voice.

Upon hearing your voice and that, yes, you were alive and well, he cornered you in your apartment, checking for himself that you were unharmed. All Might’s initial fire and fury over the attack had faded for the most part, especially after hearing the creatures who participated had all been killed.

Still, he had been at your apartment nearly every night since.

“I have to,” you said. “It’s my team.”

He snorted, tossing your phone across the room.

“You don’t owe those people anything.”

The next day, you received a call from a number you didn’t recognize. A woman was on the other line, introducing herself as the secretary for Odaiba Research Center’s president.

“We heard of your heroism--”

Heroism?

Oh no 

Someone had leaked your story to the media -- that you had saved a colleague from dying by using your quirk. A story that had been confirmed in its entirety by Endeavor’s office. Somehow, the media had gotten your name and had contacted the office of the president looking for a statement.

It was spreading -- a feel-good story discovered within such a terrible crisis. One of several that the company wanted to highlight during the remembrance ceremony. You and several others were going to be honored as embodiments of Odaiba’s never-give-up spirit. Your attendance was required.

Politely, you informed the secretary that you did not want any kind of honors. You didn’t want any kind of attention. You were no hero. The sentiment was appreciated but not accepted.

You had too many skeletons in your closet.

Though she had been instructed not to take ‘no’ for an answer, your continuous rejections eventually wore her down, hanging up almost thirty minutes later under the impression that you had won.

Until the president himself called you an hour later and, in no uncertain terms, told you the acceptance was mandatory.

“The company and its employees… our family, are struggling right now,” he said into your nervous ear. “Your heroism is exactly the type of thing we want to highlight in this time of need. In this dark period. Tell me you’ll reconsider.”

You weren’t dumb. You could read between the lines.

The company is struggling, we need good press. You’re being honored and you’re going to be happy about it.

You thanked him for his time. Yes, you’d be happy to accept the honor.

After very brief consideration, you decided not to inform All Might of what was going on.

You hadn’t told him about your… ‘heroism.’

You hadn’t been sleeping well.

Most nights you stared at the ceiling as you laid in bed, revisiting the time you watched Mikki die.

Over and over you could see that beam falling, squashing her body down into the earth. Killing her. You could see her arm pinched and flat, caught between two large chunks of metal.

You thought about how you were fully prepared to leave her to die.

You hadn’t talked to or heard from Mikki since that day. In fact, you hadn’t talked to anyone on your team. Everyone had been quiet.

The only person you had spoken to was Yume.

On the day of the remembrance gathering, you had hoped to find someone familiar in the crowd to sit with, if not your entire team. You could already see people gathering at the entrance of the stadium, grouping up with coworkers, all checking in to see if everyone was okay.

You would not be one of them. You wouldn’t get a chance to sit with your team. Instead, you were pulled aside when you checked in -- the honorees were all sitting in a special section together near the stage.

Two members of the board had approached you all, introducing themselves and pointing out what section of seating was press.

“So you know who to avoid,” they said with smiles that were politely returned.

The human spirit was the theme of the gathering. It was unbreakable. It was unparalleled. Odaiba Research Center would rebuild.

But, at that moment, it was mourning. Friends, family and loved ones had been lost in the senseless villain attack. Innocent people. Their faces flashed on a large screen behind the stage. A mother with four children. A man on a mountain bike. A man on a horse. A man playing golf.

Those Odaiba lost would never be forgotten. The lab would be forever grateful to the dedication and hard work of all sixteen people. The lab's hearts were with their families in such a trying time. They would do everything in their power to make sure their memories lived on.

And then came the honors.

Paraded up on stage, you joined five others who had shown bravery during the villain attack. You tried to look as inconspicuous as possible, praying you could just blend in with the material of the stage and be overlooked. You knew your team was out there, staring at you. That Yume was watching.

You hadn’t told anyone what you had done.

Because you hadn’t been a hero.

You were fully prepared to leave Mikki to die. It hadn’t been honor or empathy that stopped you from leaving her.

It had been guilt.

Your time in the spotlight was sandwiched between a man who held a door open for escaping people and a woman who ran into a burning office to save a scientist who had been trapped.

Thanks to your ‘quick thinking,’ you were able to prevent the death of your colleague, rewinding time and assisting the great hero Endeavor in saving her life. Bringing her back from the dead, like you were some voodoo priestess.

The entire event ended with Endeavor. It had been happenstance he had been at Odaiba but, as soon as the attack happened, he and the newest addition to his agency had sprung into action. They were heroes through and through. Odaiba was forever in their debt.

Endeavor accepted the honors with a grunt and a raised fist in victory. He had planned on leaving for home directly after his part was over. Unfortunately, he had made the mistake of bringing Hawks along to the event and the young man was all about media attention. They were both caught in a press swarm, pressed for interviews that Hawks was more than happy to indulge in.

Endeavor gave a few words, mostly about the creatures and how the police were still investigating who, or what, was behind the attack and what their motive was.

An excited chatter rose up in the crowd or reporters, distracting Endeavor who was in the middle of answering a question about the attack being an isolated incident. Someone was moving through the crowd -- rather, being pulled through the collection of reporters -- and was pushed within Endeavor and Hawks’ tight circle.

You blinked up at the real and faux heroes, horrified that you had been snatched as you were leaving.

Endeavor stared down at you in annoyance. Hawks grinned.

You wanted to tell them that this hadn’t been your idea -- you just wanted to go home. But the questions started and you were peppered by reporters asking you to detail what you had been doing during the day of the attack. How did you feel during the attack? Were you frightened?

The wanted you to explain your quirk, talk them through how you saved Mikki. Have you talked to her? Is she doing well?

Then they were turning back to Endeavor and Hawks, asking them to give their perspective on what had happened.

Back to you -- What did you think about being honored? What did you think about Odaiba?

What did you think about the new hero Hawks?

What did you think about Endeavor?

You could see, in a break of the crowd, Yume. She had found you and was waving for you to come to her. Embolden by her presence, you were pushing through, thanking the reporters but informing them you had to go. Most let you leave -- they had gotten enough content from you and were more interested in the heroes. Some followed after you but Yume was quick to guilt them into leaving you both alone.

“Why didn't you tell me!?” she cried as you walked away from the stadium. You had no destination in mind, you were just letting your feet do the walking. At that point, you didn’t care where you ended up. You just needed to get out of there.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” you muttered. “I did one thing.”

“You saved a life--”

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” you interjected. Yume looked at you in surprise. “I saved her, yeah. Okay. I did. But I also watched her die, Yum. I watched a person die in front of me. Saved her or not, it’s not an image that goes away… I’d rather not think about it.”

Your throat felt tight.

You were late coming home that night and you were worried you’d find an irritated All Might waiting for you.

Ever since the attack, he had been consistent with his visiting -- he’d arrive shortly after dinner and leave before you went to bed. Usually, he’d linger for about an hour and a half, maybe two.

Not this time.

You were getting ready for bed, assuming he wasn’t coming, when you heard a light rap on the door. At first, you thought it was a journalist who tracked you down but a peek through the peephole quickly revealed who was there.

“Hey!” you said with an eager smile, stepping aside to let All Might through. You waited for him to turn around and demand a proper hello from you.

He didn’t say anything.

In fact, he didn’t acknowledge you at all. He slipped by and headed directly into your living room without bothering to remove his boots. You closed and locked your front door, watching in confusion as he turned on your TV.

“All Might,” you called. “Hey, is something wrong?”

“You tell me, sweetheart."

He was turning on the news.

Your stomach dropped.

“Guess who I saw on the news today?” he asked almost matter-of-factly, turning to look you over.

“All Might, listen--”

“You, sweetheart. I saw you on the news getting a reward for the hero work you did with Endeavor.”

“All Might--” you held your hands up. “It’s not like that at all--”

He had timed his visit on purpose, having stewed over his discovery for hours. You were cut off by your own voice coming from the TV. There you were in downtown Tokyo sandwiched between Endeavor and Hawks.

“Oh, he’s an amazing hero,” you watched yourself say, gesturing to a frowning Endeavor. “We were lucky he was there. I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t been there to save us.”

All Might was staring at you, raising a finger to point at the visage of Hawks. You shrugged.

“I don’t know what he’s doing either--!”

You were babbling at him, recounting how you saved Mikki and how Hawks and Endeavor had been there purely by luck. You didn’t work with them and you had no idea what Hawks was doing there.

You weren’t entirely sure what All Might was implying but you didn’t like it.

If he was questioning your loyalty, there was no need. You only had eyes for him. Hadn’t you proved that? It had been months since you first started ‘seeing’ each other.

The L-word was on the tip of your tongue, a word you had been waiting to drop. Although you wanted to let him know how deep your affection for him was, it was the wrong moment. It would feel… cheap. Like you were using it to get out of trouble instead of a heartfelt moment of vulnerability. So you continued your explanations, jumping between his possible insinuations and attempting to diffuse them, stressing his importance to you.

But you weren’t sure if you were getting through to the villain. His face, for once, was impassive. He was calm.

You would have much rather he be angry.

Truth was, he was questioning your loyalty. You tell him a villain is out to kill you, you end up standing behind the supposed ‘villain’ who is now a hero. You swear to him your job at the hero lab means nothing, you end up working on Endeavor’s suit. You tell him you have no desire to be a hero, you end up being a hero.

What coincidences were you playing at?

“I haven’t even met Endeavor before the lab attack!” you said. “I’m an apprentice, hon. I don’t get invited into the meetings with him.”

You were tugging at his hand, rubbing his fingers, looking up at him. Pleading.

“I promise you that all of this is nothing. I wouldn't hurt you like that. I like you too much!"

All Might looked away.

You were getting to him.

“Besides, it doesn't matter anymore," you said with a sigh. “The lab is gone. There’s a good chance I’m out of a job now. I’ll have to go back to my… other work.”

That coaxed a smirk out of All Might. The idea of you spending long nights alone in your lab across town. A lab you hadn’t been to in weeks.

The idea that things will all go back to normal.

They’ll go back to how it was at the beginning.

“Don’t tease me, kitten,” All Might warned, though there was no bite in his tone. You grinned up at him.

“Of course you’d like that,” you said before frowning. “I’ll miss the benefits though. The salary. And I’ll have to drum up commissions again--”

“Stop,” he grunted, tugging you closer to him. “I don’t want to hear your work prattle.”

You were smiling up at him, tired but otherwise glad for his visit.

It was when he started pulling you to the bedroom that you slipped out of his grip. You’d meet him in bed -- you wanted to wash your face first. 

All Might watched you disappear into the bathroom but he didn’t head into the bedroom right away. He backtracked slightly, going into your kitchen instead, grabbing for one of the water bottles that he demanded you had on hand for his visits.

Kamino’s tap water was… unpleasant.

Something was different.

He stared at the door of your closed refrigerator, certain something was off about it.

Ah, you had moved things around.

The magnets you collected had been shifted, the pictures reordered and moved--

Pictures.

His eyes fixated on a new addition to the appliance.

At least, one he hadn’t noticed before.

You were in it, surrounded by other women. One of the girls he knew was a good friend of yours.

That didn’t matter to him though.

No, his eyes were frozen on the man standing behind your group.

The flaming hero.

A picture of you with Endeavor.

“I haven’t even met Endeavor before the lab attack!”

That… was a lie.

You had met Endeavor.

You had lied to All Might’s face.

Every late night call--

The distance--

Working with Endeavor--

A snake.

You were a snake.

Carefully, calloused fingers pulled the picture from the fridge.

Hawks. Endeavor. The hero lab. Heroism.

The tips of his fingers were turning white from the pressure.

Your face, smiling.

Endeavor in the background.

… You had played him.

No.

You were playing him.

Chapter Text

Valentine’s Day was a few weeks away and you had already gotten All Might his present.

It was hidden in a partly-crushed Amazon box underneath your bed. A large American flag chocolate bar that you wrapped in a pair of American flag boxer shorts.

You had stumbled upon the items during your Christmas shopping for him and ordered them in January, right after the holidays. Small American things for him that would go along with the necklace he got you.

The two of you would match.

You still needed to get the wrapping for it. You hadn’t decided whether you wanted to put it in a bag with tissue paper or put it in a box and wrap it.

You were even going to make chocolates for him. For Valentine’s Day. Like a proper girlfriend did in all those sappy love movies and soap operas you watched on TV. Already bookmarked on your phone was a recipe for homemade chocolate truffles that seemed simple enough to do.

You wanted to do these things for him. You were excited to do these things for him.

You were his girl after all.

And you loved him.

You loved him.

There was no real rhyme or reason why you loved him.

You just… did.

He was mean. He was crude. He was tacky. He was an oaf. He was a dork. He was a villain.

And you loved him.

Even as he stood in front of you, drawn up to his full height, meeting your confused face with a glare, you loved him.

But, you were concerned. You had only been in the bathroom for a handful of minutes and honestly didn’t know what could have happened in such a short timeframe to bring such a change of attitude.

You received your answer when he whipped something in your direction. It spun as it cut through the air, lightly striking you in the chest before fluttering down to the floor.

It was… a polaroid picture.

You, Yume, your friend Minori and acquaintance Pixie-Bob stood surrounding Endeavor, smiling. The flame hero was frowning. You had taken it months ago during that ill-fated night out you had in Roppongi. Moments before All Might landed to tease Endeavor into sparring with him. Weeks before you started your job.

Was it jealousy?

You looked back up, withering slightly under the spite on his face.

“What’s going on?” you asked, furrowing your brows as you looked between him and the picture.

“Pick it up.”

He was all fire but his voice was cold and sharp. You looked at him incredulously.

“All Might, what--?”

“Pick it up.”

You wouldn’t. You were staring at him like the wide-eyed doe he first met but the jitteriness was gone. The fear was gone.

That further inflamed him.

“What is wrong with you?” you asked, his terseness giving no indication of what was causing his latest hissy fit.

Rather than instruct you a third time to pick up the evidence, he did it for you. In almost one stride he had crossed the room, closing the distance between you two. Next thing you knew, the picture was literally being pressed into your face.

Rubbing your nose in it.

You jerked your head away, indignation coming to life that he would treat you in such a way. Shoving something in your face like you were a dog he was reprimanding. The concern was fading, replaced by annoyance. By anger.

“Snake,” he growled, waving the photograph around, going to shove it in your face again. “A snake."

“Are you calling me a snake?” You were floored. “All Might, what are you talking about?”

“You lied.” His coldness momentarily cracked as he snarled those words, revealing the hot magma churning beneath his surface. The intensity of his tone, coupled with the look on his face, awakened a long-dormant feeling in your gut.

Instinctively you took a step back.

He took a step forward.

“Lied?” you repeated, staring at the photo he was holding up.

“Never met Endeavor, sweetheart?”

The missing jigsaw piece fell into place.

Naively you relaxed, relieved it was just a misunderstanding and that his imagination was just going wild.

“That was the night in Roppongi,” you said. “I was drunk and I didn’t even talk to him. I wouldn’t consider it much of a meeting.”

You cracked a smile. Disarming, you hoped. Placating.

It’s nothing, honey.

All Might didn’t take your smile as disarming.

He clenched his teeth.

“What was your plan?” he hissed. “To restrain me one night? Arrest me? Bring me to your heroes?”

“All Might--”

“Snake,” he snarled, stepping forward again, face wild. He hunched down to close the distance between you, though he still towered over you. Again, that feeling was there. A primal warning alarm was raised in your mind of his predatory stance. He was going to pounce.

He was not going to pounce.

He was going to attack.

He was not going to attack!

“I’m not a snake!” You were almost pleading with him. “All Might, whatever you’re thinking it’s not true. I promise--”

“Whatever I’m thinking,” he interrupted with a scoff. “You’ve been caught, girl. You’ve shown your colors. I just don’t know if you want to be some kind of hero or you’re simply a hero fucker.”

You had assumed that’s what he was alluding to with his snake comments -- you rolled your eyes. It wasn’t the first time he had accused you some inevitable betrayal that never came. That would never come. Because you loved him.

Apparently, he still didn't trust you.

Your shoulders drooped.

He still didn’t trust you.

You had done nothing to him.

“Please tell me you’re joking right now,” you said tiredly. His face gave you his answer. “All Might, it’s a job. That’s all it is -- a job.”

He snorted. “It’s more than that, sweetheart. You’re still lying.”

“Wh--”

“Don’t play stupid, girl.”

To All Might, things were starting to make sense. Every late night you spent at your lab was for your heroes. Every phone call you just couldn’t miss was for your heroes. You were worming away from him, growing colder, undoubtedly building up the courage to finally spring whatever trap you were planning. For your heroes.

That’s it. That’s what it all had been leading up to.

You’d have your chance at glory. At fame. At money. The snake that finally caught All Might.

Betrayal.

The fire was growing hotter in him. Fury.

You!

You.

… You.

You would do that to him?

You were worse than a snake.

A rat.

His self-mantra echoed in his ears, joined with a new insult for himself.

Weak. Pathetic. Fool.

He clenched a fist, inhaling deeply, resisting every urge in his body to lash out. That’s all he wanted to do. Smash and pummel. To teach you a lesson.

You.

You made him look like a fool.

He wanted you to fear him again.

It would be so easy to do. One strike, that’s all it would take.

You’d fear him then.

He didn’t want you to fear him.

“You’re seeing things that aren’t there, All Might,” you said, rubbing fatigue from your eyes. “I’m not cheating on you with some hero. I don't have the time. I’m not going to sell you out. I have no plans on doing either of those things--”

“I’ve caught you in one lie already,” he snapped.

“What lie!?” you asked before gesturing to the picture. “All Might, I’ve never spoken to Endeavor before! We’re not even touching in that picture!" You paused, shaking your head. "Jealously doesn’t suit you.”

Jealously!?

Things were erupting.

Did you--

Did you really just insinuate he was jealous of Endeavor?

The picture crumbled in his hand, fists forming again. You took another step back, something weak flashing across your face at seeing his reaction.

Jealous of Endeavor!?

But then, a smile.

A smile that held no warmth or affection.

“Stupid girl,” he said, voice losing its coldness but it was thick with something else. Something darker. “Me jealous of a hero? Please. All your heroes are frauds.”

You sighed. “Come on--”

“I am their truth. I am their balance. Without me, they’d have no check.”

“Oh?” you answered with your own scoff. “That’s some awfully noble talk for a villain.”

He didn’t like that phrasing. Initial surprise at your choice of words immediately disappeared as his smile grew wider, teeth appearing sharper.

Like a shark. Like a crocodile.

Something heartless and dangerous.

“You even sound like them,” he said, shadowed eyes growing wider with a sick delight at your perceived slip-up. “Did you think I wouldn’t catch you, girl? That I wouldn’t find out?”

“There is nothing to catch!” Your tone was rising, his continued accusations finally striking something raw. You loved him and he didn’t even trust you! “Hero fucker? Please. How many times have we fucked, All Might? Don’t you think that would reflect poorly on me, at this point? Being a villain fucker?”

He laughed a deep belly laugh, throwing his head back before shaking it and looking back down at you.

“Sweetheart,” he said, humored. You expected he was going to break down and reveal it was all just a cruel joke of his. And you had just fallen for it. “It’s not hard to get between your legs. Your heroes are probably well aware of that. I’m sure they’ve all been there.”

That hurt.

You laughed, throat tight.

“What are you saying?” you asked, internally recoiling at his words.

“You’re a whore, girl.”

You laughed again, putting your hands on your hips as you walked in a small circle around your bedroom. Your chin wobbled while your back was to him and you bit your lip, refusing to allow your tears to spill.

When you had called yourself a whore months earlier, in a haze of self-loathing and embarrassment at having sucked him off as a thank you, he had rebuffed you. Besides, it had only been him you had eyes for.

Now he was throwing that word back in your face.

A whore.

You were walking in another circle, your face twitching getting worse. You were trying to hide it from him.

Fuck it, don’t cry.

Don’t cry.

He must have known the wound was deep. He looked smug. Glad to have caused you pain. Glad his jab landed.

“What have I done to you?” you asked, careful to keep your voice from cracking. The L-word was still on the tip of your tongue -- All Might, I love you. Don't you understand? I LOVE you -- but you refused to use it.

No, not in this context.

It was supposed to be a special moment. 

“You tried to play me,” he said with another laugh, interjecting in the silence, perceived to have you on the run. “Me! And you got caught, girl.”

“What have I done to give you that idea?” you asked, voice breaking. You took no joy in catching his faltering grin at hearing the state of you, secret doubt suddenly bubbling within him. “All I do is at my lab, All Might. The only hero I know, personally, is Pixie-Bob. I sit in a basement and work all day. And then I come home and sleep."

The man you loved thought you were a whore.

You were laughing again in disbelief, though your face was more of a grimace. Your eyes were shining.

The man you loved thought you were a whore.

God, he knew exactly where to wound you.

And you knew where to hurt him.

“Maybe I am a whore,” you said sharply, fire behind your wet eyes.

He wanted to hurt you?

Well, you could hurt him back. You could bite just as hard. 

“You’re right, All Might," you said. "Maybe I am a secret hero fucker. I’m not actually working when I’m at work. I’m just fucking heroes!”

He wasn’t smiling anymore.

“You know what else?” You were grinning at him, having stolen the cruel smile he had worn earlier. “You’re right about Endeavor. He is my favorite hero! I don’t even charge him for work, you know. Anything he needs, I’m there for him!”

All Might was shifting his jaw, a vein appearing in his neck.

His hands were still clenched by his sides.

“He’s an amazing hero!” you babbled, wild. “The number one hero, if you didn’t know! Costume work? I’m there for him. Repairs? I’m there for him. Fuck it, I’ll suck him off no problem if he needs it! Because I’m just such a whore!”

“Careful--” he went to warn but you cut him off.

“Careful!?” Your eyes and face lit up as you shouted the word back at him in hurt surprise. “Be careful about what, All Might? The truth!? Because it’s the truth, isn’t it? I’m not busting my ass off at work because I want to make something of my life. No, it’s only because I’m a whore. And you know a whore like me can’t control myself!”

The man you loved thought you were a whore.

You hadn't been with anyone else but him.

You wanted to strangle him. Let him know how much pressure you found yourself under on a daily basis. Not only that, there was a good chance you would be out of work now that your lab was gone. That’d you have no job.

And the prospect of being out of work was a relief.

“Go run to Endeavor,” All Might snapped, crossing his arms. “Run to your hero. In between the beatings, I’m sure he’ll be pumping you full of children.”

He dropped a sly nugget of information about the famed hero, expecting you to pull back in surprise. But you ignored and glossed over it because you had a final move in your pocket you were dying to use.

The man you loved thought you were a whore.

He had hurt you.

And you were going to hurt him back.

“Maybe I will,” you said, throwing your hands up, eyes flashing. “He’ll protect me, he’ll save me! He’s a great hero, you know. Your opposite in every way -- everyone loves him. The world loves him. Who wouldn't love him? He's got the perfect record, perfect life, perfect smile, perfect body.”

It rolled off your tongue and you watched it hit.

All Might picked up on your insult right away, brows shooting up.

Stunned.

You had gone there.

He hurt you and you hurt him back.

The man you loved thought you were a whore.

And, in response, you called out his weakness.

His disfigurement.

His scar.

It didn’t surprise you when he was holding you up by the throat less than a second later, your feet swinging in the air. Adrenaline was already roaring through your body at having had the gall to go after him -- you weren’t really registering if he was cutting off your airflow.

“Nothing,” he hissed, hoovering between ice and magma, face ablaze with hate. “You are nothing and you will always be nothing. Just a warm wet hole someone like me can stick their cock in.” A sick smile was back. “I could take you now, couldn’t I? Throw you do and fuck you raw and you’d probably thank me.”

You waited but he made no moves to follow through on his threat. Instead, his sharp teeth parted as a dry laugh escaped him.

“You’re not even worth killing, girl. That would be too easy. Why end your misery when it’ll just get worse? You’re going to fail at your job, girl. You will make nothing of your life.”

He released his hand, watching you hurtle back toward the ground, unexpectedly landing on your feet before losing your balance and crumbling back onto the floor. With his hand gone, the air was flowing freely again.

So he had been cutting off your air supply.

How could you love someone like him?

Your heart was breaking.

You loved him.

You love him.

But he didn’t deserve it.

“All I’ve done is give,” you spat at him, tears of hurt and anger spilling. You hated yourself. You were weak for crying in front of him. “I have done nothing but give to you. And you’ve done nothing but take from me.”

All Might snorted.

“Take?” He shook his head. “Girl, you have nothing worth taking.”

This wasn’t love.

Fight or not, this wasn’t love.

Your will to fight was gone. You had thrown in your finishing move and he was still standing. 

And you couldn’t take it back.

You wanted to.

Were you weak for wanting to use your quirk to turn back time? To take back your dig? Maybe you could have pandered to him and talked him through his paranoia instead of sticking up for yourself.

No, this wasn’t love.

You loved him but clearly, it was all one-sided.

You were an idiot.

“Well,” All Might said, stretching and frowning, bored by your current state. “It’s been fun, girl, but this has gone on for far too long.”

He had written you off already.

You were looking at him, waiting for him to say something to take it all back.

Apologize and move on.

No…

It wouldn’t happen.

He was far too proud.

He was leaving.

Don’t let him walk away the winner.

“Bye then,” you said, cold and numb, as you stood. He quirked a brow at you, watching as you picked up the crumpled picture on the ground, smoothing it out.

“What?” he said, erupting in a grin. “No goodbye kiss this time?”

Your heart squeezed and you laughed through your nose, humored by how cruel he could be. To you.

“You were a mistake,” you grumbled, hoping that would make him pause.

It didn’t.

Instead, he matched your snorting laugh.

“Sweetheart,” he said in a sickly-sweet tone reminiscent of the time you had first met. You looked up at him. “You’re not even worth being called a mistake.”

Your gaze shot down to your feet, refusing to engage with him any longer. Having sensed a victory, he turned heel and left your room without another word. You steeled yourself as you heard his heavy footsteps trail down your hallway to your front door, expecting him to suddenly lash out and destroy your home.

He didn’t.

He had done enough damage.

All Might left without a word.

A minuted passed. Then ten.

No knock on the door. No phone call.

What world did you live in? Expecting him to come back to you.

He was gone.

He was gone.

You sat on the edge of your bed. His bed. The bed he had given you, staring down at a simple photograph that had kicked off what you believed to be one of the worst nights of your life.

Internally, your world was falling to pieces.

You felt sick. You wondered if vomiting would make you feel better. A hot, heavy ball of something had rolled from the base of your throat and had settled in your soul.

Maybe… he’d call you in a few days. After he calmed down…

You brushed at your eyes.

If he did, he’d turn it around on you. He wouldn’t apologize. The fight would be your fault.

Like when he destroyed your lab, it had been because you provoked him.

All Might didn’t trust you. He belittled you. He intimidated you. Red flags were sprouting in your memories. He had put his hands on you.

You gave him love. What did he give you?

A sob tore through you.

The picture was on the floor.

You hated your life.

You had wasted your energy and love on a monster.

You had given him so much.

You hated your friends.

Their support and advice had been useless and true.

You hated your job.

It was the job you had dreamed of for years, one you always wished you had.

Well, you had it and you hated it.

With every fiber of your being, you hated it.

You were a failure.

All Might was right, you were nothing.

The sobs were getting louder. You were curled up on your bed. Everything was too hard.

You were doomed to fail.

He didn't deserve you.

You didn't want him back. 

Yagi Toshinori lost his bluster on the train ride home, having decided not to travel by jumping back to Tokyo. It was still early -- he had been in your apartment for less than half an hour, but he didn’t have the energy to spare.

He did his best not to think, gangly legs spread wide as he sat in the near-empty train car, scowling and staring at the shoe-scuffed floor.

All he could do was think.

He was flip-flopping between his sudden and fierce disdain for you and an oozing feeling that he had forgotten something.

Perfect body.

Yagi could still see his hand wrapped around your neck. You were tiny compared to him. A flex of his fingers and he could have ended it all right then and there.

But the feeling wasn’t there.

There was no denying he hated you. But there was no bloodlust clouding his mind, which surprised him. He had been preparing himself to go on a rampage when he left your apartment, to go make his displeasure known to the world. To let loose some of the boiling energy that had been created due to your... verbal altercation.

As soon as your front door closed behind him, the magma had cooled. The volcano within him had gone quiet.

Now he just wanted to go to bed.

He really was an old man.

The light-headedness struck when he went to stand at his stop, making him sway slightly on his feet as the train slowed. He gripped a hanging handle for support, dry mouth working to create enough saliva to swallow down and wet his equally dry throat.

Perfect body.

His blood boiled.

Whore.

He exhaled softly, fatigue settling over his body again.

Vending machines were located on the sidewalk outside of the empty station, lit by a hazy yellow streetlamp. A crushed coffee can marred the otherwise pristine area. He was staring at the offerings of pre-packaged food in machine and drinks in its companion, unable to collect his thoughts on what he was doing.

You were a snake. A rat. Some subhuman creature who craved importance and wealth. A sellout. Judas.

Whore. Nothing.

A wet cough erupted and he caught it in his palm before the blood could splatter and ruin the relatively clean glass of the vending machine. Without looking, he wiped his hand against his pants.

Pants you had made him.

A package of fresh, precut apples caught his attention.

You did a poor job at hiding your true allegiance. Telling him you worked at a hero lab. Admitting you were working on Endeavor’s suit. Hanging the picture of the hero on your refrigerator, where All Might could find it. Doing an interview with Endeavor and his new feathered lackey hovering behind you.

Complimenting him.

Whore. Nothing. A wet hole.

The apples didn’t have a taste. The texture was more of a crisp mush. He gnawed on two slices before wrapping the snack back up and shoving it into one of the cargo pockets of his pants.

You were a poor excuse for a double agent. It had been easy to identify you. You hadn’t hid anything.

Whore. Nothing. A wet hole. Snake. Rat.

He had caught you in your lies.

Right?

Lies.

He knew they were lies.

Right?

No.

He pulled off his boots when he arrived home, tossing the apples in the trash when he went to his kitchen to get a glass of water.

What he needed was a shower. To clear his head. To set his thoughts.

His weak thoughts.

Weak. Pathetic. Fool.

Whore. Nothing. A wet hole. Snake. Rat.

You had been smiling when he first arrived at your apartment. With a tired smile, you were happy to see him.

Stop it.

He grit his teeth, staring at his bed, eyes focused on an innocuous pillow settled in the center of mussed blankets.

“I wouldn't hurt you like that. I like you too much!"

That was not the first time you had said something like that to him, not the first time you had declared your loyalty. You had always done it so freely.

“I have done nothing but give to you. And you’ve done nothing but take from me.”

Your pillow didn’t smell like you anymore.

It was in his hands, soft pillowcase and plushness lost on calloused fingers. It had lost you a few weeks back. He had been thinking up ways to give it back to you for a refresh of you. Or maybe he could do a swap -- give it back to you and take another from your bed.

He liked having a bit of you near him.

It settled him.

There would be no more you.

Whore. Nothing. A wet hole. Snake. Rat.

Hand on your throat.

The pillow landed on the floor on the other side of his bed.

That feeling, he felt earlier on the train, that he had forgotten something at your place--

It wasn’t forgetfulness.

No.

It was regret.

Every word. Every face. Every insult. Every accusation.

Tit for tat you had gone after each other, driving in the knife.

And for what reason?

No reason.

All Might was finality. He did not change his mind, he did not go back on his decisions. He had said he was done with you and that was that.

Whore. Nothing. A wet hole. Snake. Rat.  Hand on your throat. Tears.

Yagi Toshinori sat on his bed, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed closed, brows furrowed, other hand fisted on his loose pants. 

...Shit.

Chapter Text

He was late.

Considerably late.

Inconsiderately late.

Naomasa’s eyes flickered between the clock on the cell phone and the red pedestrian light glaring at him from across the street. The crowd of people standing around him were all quiet and calm as they waited for the light to switch green -- he was the only one shifting on his feet.

The light was green.

He was leading the charge across the road.

An hour. He was an hour late. Jacket in hand, Naomasa had been just about to head to the elevators when Kuryuu jumped up from his desk gesturing wildly at his phone. At the end of the call, he shared the news -- they had a name.

A name?

A name for buyer of the music box.

Of course they had to look up the individual immediately. This was it -- their golden goose. Finally a decent lead.

A female with no prior record tied to two addresses in Kamino.

He had texted his friend to let him know he was going to be delayed but, in his professional giddiness, he had lost track of time.

Two more blocks.

Should he text him again?

One more block.

His breathing was heavy when he crossed the last street and beelined right for the oblivious man standing outside the diner. The man was scowling down at the ground, hands stuffed into the pockets of his heavy winter jacket that was pulled tightly around him.

Naomasa was already apologizing before his companion even realized he was there.

“--held up at work. I’m sorry,” Naomasa huffed, coming to a stop, calves already burning. Startled at the sudden appearance and breathless declaration, the man jumped, shooting the detective a withering glare before realizing who he was. His look quickly changed to one of concern.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, pulling out a hand and holding it out to his friend. “It looks like you were running a marathon!”

“I walked fast to try and make up some time,” Naomasa answered, using the back of his hand to wipe away the sweat from his brow. He took one large breath to try and settle his heart rate before revealing a red-faced smile. “It’s good to see you, Yagi.”

Yagi Toshinori replied with his own tired smile.

“It’s been awhile, Naomasa.”

It was a simple lunch date, something the men did every couple of weeks when Naomasa could find a block of time.

The diner was something Yagi had chosen -- simple meals made quickly with beer on tap for his companion.

“I’ve gotten a partner since I last saw you,” Naomasa said with a sigh once the waitress stepped away from taking their drink and food orders. He was circling the rim of his water glass with his finger, brows already knitting together at the mention of his colleague.

Yagi hummed in interest, signaling for him to continue, wringing his hands for warmth. Though it was the end of March, spring had been late to arrive -- a cold spell had settled over Japan. Most public places had already shut off their heat for the season, assuming the warmer weather was on the horizon. For Yagi, he had had been living in a perpetual state of cold for several months, the horizon was not getting any closer and he was growing tired of it.

He still stuffed hand warmers in the pockets of his coat.

“He’s… something,” Naomasa warned before launching into a monologue about the enigma that was Officer Kuryuu.

Yagi did his best to actively listen -- his eyes were trained on the detective’s face and he was nodding along -- but his words weren’t embedding themselves in Yagi’s mind. He wasn’t comprehending.

It was difficult to... care about people he didn’t know.

Did he care about Naomasa?

His mind started to wander, eyes glazing over slightly as his attention turned to his own thoughts.

It had been, what, three years since he met Naomasa? Two strangers sitting in the waiting room of a pulmonologist, both watching television in a comfortable, steady silence. Yagi had been attending another follow-up appointment to measure the capacity of his remaining lung, Naomasa had been struck by a villain quirk that resulted in spores embedding themselves in the walls of his.

Naomasa was the one to speak first, commenting on something that was being shown on the small TV.

Yagi had grunted in response.

He kept piping up, though. Another comment about the television show followed by a joke about waiting.

Yagi had prayed that the man would just shut up.

Eventually, the two men were having a conversation. Well, Naomasa was having a conversation. Yagi was stuck sitting in the uncomfortable chair, sullen that he had been trapped into interacting with another person.

He was chatty though. And nice. The longer they waited, the more he spoke and Yagi found himself actually responding -- especially once Naomasa revealed why he was at the doctor’s and that he was a police detective.

The poor detective had no idea who he was talking so affably to.

Yagi was called to the back first and he believed that was that; when he returned to the waiting room after his appointment, Naomasa was gone. A simple interaction lost to the annals of time.

Until the accident.

A bus Yagi had been riding in struck a dump truck one afternoon several weeks after his appointment. Naomasa had been one of the law enforcement officers that responded to the scene and recognized the tall scowling blond nursing a lump on his forehead.

Which led to the men striking up another conversation.

Which led to the men getting coffee.

Initially, Yagi had been humored by the burgeoning relationship. It bore elements of a Greek tragedy -- a policeman unknowingly becoming friends with the great All Might. His enemy. The enemy of the people.

All Might had an 'in' to the police department, a set of unknowing eyes that would share seemingly innocuous information with him. Whenever Naomasa brought up his caseload, Yagi would listen so sympathetically. He’d innocently ask about the other policemen in his office or inquire after the heroes he worked with and how they behaved. If by the off chance Naomasa mentioned All Might, the villain would positively glow with satisfaction. 

And in return, Yagi would share some inane information about his life. Naomasa believed he was some sort of retired salaryman who was plagued by a variety of illnesses that left him unable to work. Most of the stories Yagi shared revolved around television or shopping.