Work Text:
The thing about Shouto Todoroki is that he is not cool, not at all. His idiot boyfriends will joke that actually, he’s half cool, and that just drives the goddamn point home. Shouto considers himself a loser. He’s quite certain he peaked in high school, because the onslaught of pressure from an overbearing father at a young age makes it hard to manage the daily stress of hero work. He’s burning out from the industry, and young.
That’s a thought for another day, though. The point is that Shouto is not cool at all, but somehow, he has the world’s two biggest losers for boyfriends.
Deku and Dynamight make Shouto look like the coolest person ever, and that’s saying something.
Sure, Deku has had his glow up. He’s traded in the mop of fluffy hair and bunny ears for a sleek undercut, stylishly tousled on the top, badass on the bottom. It does nice things for Shouto’s dick, and he’s not complaining. He’s bulked up, the final growth spurt giving him a couple of inches and a whole lot of muscle, broad shoulders and thick thighs that can manhandle both Shouto and Katsuki like it’s nothing.
Katsuki’s done well, too. He’s mellowed out behind closed doors, and in the public eye he’s learned to use his aggression to promote the exact right kind of image. So, yeah, in practice? Shouto is well aware he’s the loser of the three. Deku and Kacchan storm off into battle, explosions and crackles of green lightning, and nothing can stop them.
The fighting is only one part of the job, though.
Being a hero is a hefty role-- and somehow, the actual battles, while the most dangerous, treacherous, aren’t the hardest part. It’s the PR that comes after, dealing with the photographers and the journalists, the constant pressure of being a public figure.
Todoroki’s favourite thing to do, whenever his boyfriends piss him off, is to play various interviews. It’s not even that there’s one particularly cringe one, no, he’s got a whole assortment to choose from. God, he has a fucking playlist of “Deku and Dynamight fanboy moment” videos.
---
Izuku Midoriya - Pro Hero Deku - cards scarred fingers through his hair. His gloves are off, his uniform is torn, and he’s got the beginnings of a spectacular bruise blossoming across one freckled cheek. There’s his trademark grin though, dorky and happy.
The press has already swarmed his partner. Pro Hero Katsuki Bakugou stands aloof, arms crossed across his chest, and he looks torn between shooing the journalists away and tolerating the attention.
It’s their first big apprehension since high school. They’re new to this still, and it’s obvious that Katsuki is kinda eating it up, even if he’s trying to look pissed.
“This is the first big win for anyone from UA’s Class 3-A! There’s been a lot of attention surrounding your group-- tell me, do you feel like you were adequately prepared for the reality of the job--?”
Deku slips in before Katsuki can answer, casually throwing an arm around the other hero’s shoulders. The media goes crazy with the friendly dynamic, and Katsuki’s deep scowl only makes it better.
“Since Deku is so eager to jump in, I’ll let him answer that one,” Katsuki says gruffly.
Izuku’s grin brightens. “I’ve been preparing my whole life for this! Is the real thing different? Yeah, totally, but we got thrown into the real thing three years ago! I’d say we’re used to this by now!”
Katsuki rolls his shoulders in an attempt to shake Deku off, but he only clings harder.
“Your whole life-- Deku, you’ve opened up about your admiration of All Might. Learning under him must have been a great honor. Would you consider him the source of your inspiration?”
“Oh, of course!”
The moment the question is asked, Deku’s face twists, his bright, cheerful smile turning almost manic, eyes lighting up. Next to him, Katsuki groans.
“You’re making a mistake--” he starts to say, but Izuku’s other hand lifts to clap over Katsuki’s mouth.
“All Might is the reason I wanted to be a hero! I want to save lives, I want to make him proud. Having him as a mentor helped in so many ways, y’know? I learned a lot-- and it’s so much more than looking cool, or having a flashy quirk. It’s about what you do-- ”
Katsuki finally lifts a hand, sweaty, grimy fingers crackling with energy as he forcibly pries Deku’s hand away from his mouth.
“ Deku, they fuckin’ get it!” he growls -- and it’s a livestream, so Katsuki Bakugou’s filthy mouth is broadcasted to the entire nation -- “you’re the nerdiest All Might fan that’s ever existed. God, you’re embarrassing!”
It’s just a typical outburst for Katsuki, a back-and-forth that’s entirely natural to anyone who knows them well. They’re still new to this press thing though, and the journalist looks taken aback. There’s a momentary lull, but Deku sees his moment, and he takes it.
Leaning in, he grins brightly. “Mmm, okay, Kacchan. Tell me again, where you got the name Dynamight from? Or-- do you wanna remind them that the official name is Great Explosion Murder God Dyna--”
Izuku Midoriya is forcibly wrenched from the scene, the press stunned silent for once in their life.
And that is the public’s official introduction to Deku and Dynamight It only goes downhill from there.
---
“Shouto, what was your role in the battle?”
Todoroki’s clearly caught off guard. The press isn’t supposed to be back here, but they always find a way. He immediately shifts his expression into polite detachment, a gloved hand lifting to push through his hair, red and white strands twining together messily.
“Since the villain possessed a water manipulation quirk, it wasn’t suited for my strengths. My fire would be doused, and my ice would be condensed into steam,” he says casually. “I evacuated the area and provided long-range support for my teammates, since Deku and Dynamight are frontline fighters…”
It sounds good. The woman nods approvingly.
Shouto Todoroki stands proud and tall, shoulders straight, hair appropriately mussed, a singe mark on his unmarred cheek.
The reality is that Todoroki rescued a family of cats from a tree that was in danger of being blown up by Katsuki’s stupid volatile explosions. He’s currently rifling through the supplies brought by the emergency cleanup team to try and find some scraps of fish to feed them.
“Oi! What are you doing here?!”
Behind him, the loud voice of Bakugou interrupts. Katsuki charges forward, a candy bar in one hand.
“It’s fine,,” Shouto says casually with a shrug. Turning back to the journalist, he shakes his head. “Apologies. Tensions tend to run high after battle-- the adrenaline rush can be a lot.”
“The hell you on about?! You were just going on abou--”
“Kacchan, did you steal the last Kit-Kat?!”
Pro Hero Izuku Midoriya arrives in a flash of green, an obvious misuse of his quirk that he definitely doesn’t intend to have caught on video. The usual bright smile is replaced with a flash of anger as he reaches for the chocolate in Katsuki’s hand.
“I didn’t see your name on it! You don’t even like matcha,” Katsuki grumbles.
“I don’t dislike it, it’s just not my favourite! C’mon, you said I could have it!”
“Shuddup! I’ll fight you for it!” Katsuki, who has a whopping inch of height on Deku, uses every bit of that single inch to his advantage as he holds the candy up. Deku grumbles and hops up, fingers desperately trying to pry the snack away.
The photographer with the journalist is going wild.
“That’s enough,” Shouto says suddenly, firmly, stepping forward. “I’d like to ask you to leave now, otherwise I’ll file a formal complaint about sneaking behind police lines…”
Todoroki ushers the invasive crew off with an impassive expression, while his boyfriends bicker and argue behind him. Deku and Dynamight just single-handedly took down a terrorist while Shouto saved some stray cats, but the rest of the world doesn’t know that.
Todoroki looks cool, polite but firm.
He turns around and storms back to the supplies, digging through the snacks until he finds a package of sushi in one of the ice chests.
“If you two could stop arguing,” he says, stepping between his bickering boyfriends, “I have more important things to do.”
Todoroki adopts one of the kittens, and every time Izuku and Katsuki try to tease him about it, he points out that he’s the calm, professional one. The press had seen the dynamic, and they run wild with it. What would Deku and Dynamight do without Shouto to keep them in line?
---
So it doesn’t matter that Katsuki and Izuku are the actual professionals who will break the top. They’ll fight their way neck-in-neck to Number One, and the whole world is watching. They bicker publicly in the middle of press conferences. They poke at each other’s All Might obsessions. Sometimes Deku shows up wearing t-shirts with awful phrases on them, like he’s still sixteen. Katsuki will drop curses on national television.
But put Shouto in front of a camera? He shows up stylishly dressed, his makeup in top form. He always knows what to say, and even if he loathes every minute of it, he’s been raised for this. He’s been groomed to know exactly what to say, trained to innately understand exactly what bullshit not-answer to give to satisfy the greedy press.
Behind closed doors, it’s Shouto offering to skip out on patrol to do his boyfriends’ apprehension reports. It’s Shouto waking up and stretching languidly, doing yoga in the middle of the living room floor and making lunches while Deku rushes out in a streak of bright light to save the city from whatever emergency just arose, Kacchan a half-step behind him.
And, it’s also Shouto who tends to be the world’s meanest boyfriend.
---
It’d started as a joke, when Izuku had demanded Shouto go to a fan convention with him. Katsuki had been out of town on a mission, and as much as Todoroki loves to poke fun at his fanboy boyfriend, he’d never actually say no to Midoriya.
They’d dressed down, but Izuku still gets noticed, his freckles and bright smile and too-loud voice immediately giving him away. He gets mobbed, and simply waves Shouto off before the distinctive bob of red-and-white hair can give them both away.
Shouto tugs his hoodie up higher over his head and waves security over, and then darts into artist’s alley while underpaid security staff deal with the aftermath of Japan’s top up-and-coming showing up incognito at a fan convention.
He’s wandering the aisles, losing himself in the crowd and keeping his head down, when a booth catches his attention.
He’s aware, because of course he is, that the hero fans tend to be… obsessive. Katsuiki and Izuku’s friendship has gained a fanatical following, and fast. It makes his skin crawl a little bit, thinking about all the weird Class A fanblogs that had formed while they were still in high school, but now that they’re pros, adults, it’s just another part of the job.
Seeing doujin in person, though, catches him off guard.
Seeing himself and Izuku on the cover of the doujin, especially. Todoroki does a double take, before he immediately beelines to the booth.
The poor artist working takes one look at him, at the fringe of two-toned bangs falling out from under his hood, the faint line of the scar he’d covered up best as he could with makeup, and her eyes look about ready to bug out of her head.
“Uh-- please don’t sue me--” she says in a rush, reaching to cover up the display frantically with her hands, “--I’ll take it all down--!”
“How much?” Shouto says, reaching to pluck the shrink-wrapped book.
The artist tries to give it to him for free, but Todoroki insists on paying.
Unfortunately, the con is a bit of a bust, because once Deku’s cover is blown, it’s over. The news spreads like wildfire across Twitter, and the two end up sneaking out a back exit, escorted by security.
“We’ll have to actually cosplay next time,” Izuku says brightly, as they catch a train a few stops down. It’s busy enough that, blessedly, nobody notices them. When they’re far enough away from the con, they hop off, shoulders nudging together as Izuku guides them down the street and into a noodle shop that’s hidden on a side street, right off the beaten track.
Todoroki doesn’t realize just how tense he’s been until they’re finally alone in a booth with mugs of steaming tea and bowls of noodles in front of them.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get to see everything, Izu,” he says quietly, poking at his noodles with his chopsticks. “I know you’ve been looking forward to it.”
“It’s fine. There’s always the next one!” Izuku says, and there’s just the slightest slump to his shoulders revealing that he is, in fact, more upset than he’s letting on. It’s part of the trade-off, of course: he’ll always be a fanboy, but now, he’s got fans of his own, and Deku is taking the world by storm.
Bright eyes shift, and for the first time, Midoriya notices the bag that Shouto’s set on the table next to his food. “Hey, you bought something?! C’mon, show me!”
A tiny, wicked smile tugs at Todoroki’s lips as he remembers. He glances around conspiratorially, but it’s mid-day and the shop is empty. No congoers, no photographers, only a few other patrons paying them no attention at all.
“Look what I found,” he says, pushing the bag across the table.
Izuku pulls the book out, and his eyes go wide and his cheeks turn about twenty different violent shades of purple-red-pink. “Waoh, we’ve gotten that popular?!”
“Apparently people ship us,” Todoroki replies with a shrug. “Surprised it took this long.”
“I actually haven’t looked much into that side of the fandom. Too afraid of what I’ll find,” Izuku confesses. “Mind if I open it?”
“Oh, please do,” Shouto says, leaning forward eagerly.
The media would have a goddamn field day knowing that Shouto Todoroki and Izuku Midoriya are having a quiet afternoon date, eating noodles and staring at porn in the middle of a public space. Todoroki doesn’t care. He watches eagerly as Izuku’s eyes scan the pages, head tipped to the side, tongue darting out to lick enticingly at his lower lip as he drinks in the details.
It’s hard to make out the details from the opposite side of the table, but Shouto sees lots of naked limbs and acrobatic poses, bodily fluid and censor bars. He rolls his eyes.
Finally, Midoriya shuts the book and pushes it back across to Todoroki. “People really have no idea what we’re like, do they?” he says, very seriously.
Todoroki opens the book, flipping through the pages. “Hey, what the hell,” he says, unable to hold back the outright smirk that spreads across his face. “People think I’m the top in this relationship?!”
Shouto Todoroki is the most painful loser in existence, but somehow, people think he’s the cool, collected, dominate one, pinning Izuku Midoriya to the mattress and fucking him senseless.
And he’s going to hold that over his boyfriend’s head forever.
---
After that, it becomes a hobby.
Todoroki’s favourite thing to do, really, is to troll internet fanspace to see just what the crazed hero fans really think.
There’s a ton of speculation about the nature of their relationship. Some are convinced he and Midoriya are together. Even more think Deku and Dynamight are a power couple. There’s a small, but fiercely dedicated group that thinks Deku doesn’t have time for that shit at all, and the silent love-hate relationship between Todoroki and Bakugou is the clear choice.
(Todoroki has a soft spot for them. If only they knew.)
And then there’s the people who are convinced that the three of them are all together in some elicit, tangled love affair, ranging anywhere from volatile love triangle to polyamorous fuckfest.
“What do you think they’d do?” Todoroki asks one morning. He’s flopped on his stomach, browsing on his phone.
Next to him, Izuku is sprawled across Katsuki’s chest, idly running his fingers through the other hero’s hair.
“The fuck you on about?” Katsuki asks, but his eyes are shut and he’s practically purring as Deku’s fingers expertly scratch a spot behind his ear. He’d woken up with a stress headache, and the three of them have a rare morning off, so they’d decided to laze around in bed and get brunch delivered.
“Sho’s been spending his free time in fandom,” Izuku says casually, tipping his head to press his lips to Katsuki’s neck, eliciting a low sigh from the other man.
“Christ, don’t you have anything better to do?”
“Probably,” Todoroki says with a shrug. He tips his head, looking at his boyfriends. “Let me clarify. What do you think the fans would do if they knew their threesome theory was true?”
They’ve worked hard to keep their relationship a secret. It’s a three bedroom apartment, though one room is a guest room, the other is an office. Their friends know, of course-- the beginnings of their relationship can be traced back to high school, and there were no real secrets in the UA dorms-- but there's mutual respect and understanding. Class A keeps each others’ secrets.
“Oh my god, can you imagine the fanart?” Izuku groans. “There’s already way too much of it.”
“I like the fanart. It’s hot,” Shouto shrugs. “Plus it’s fun to force you guys to look at it.”
He scrolls through his timeline for a few minutes, and it doesn’t take long until he stumbles across an image of Deku sandwiched between himself and Katsuki. Cackling under his breath, Todoroki lifts his phone up, shoving it in his boyfriend’s faces.
“Why does everyone think you’re the one always taking dick, Izuku?” he asks.
“Because he’s the shortest,” Katsuki points out with a roll of his eyes. “They have no imagination.”
“By a single inch!” Izuku insists, poking at Katsuki’s cheek with a scarred finger. “I grew up!”
“Yeah and in high school you were a shrimp,” Katsuki retorts. “The better question is how the hell everyone thinks Icy Hot over there is some aggressive dom.”
Shouto whips the phone back around and tips his head, examining the image. He is very much in control in the fanart. It’s not bad art-- there’s a bit too much attention drawn to his scar, and his dick does not look like that, thank you very much. He rolls his eyes at the whole ‘Shouto Todoroki has half-and-half pubes’ trope, incredibly grateful that he’s icy-white down there in reality.
“It’s because people think I’m cooler than you losers,” he says smugly.
Izuku rolls off Katsuki, abruptly, slipping in the empty space between them to tangle a hand in Shouto’s hair. Scarred fingers shove his face into the mattress, and a sharp, white-hot pulse of arousal shoots down Shouto’s spine, gathering hot and liquid in his belly and making his cock stir where his body is pressed into the bed.
“What was that?” Izuku murmurs, “you wanna be put in your place, Shouto?”
Todoroki vows to never stop showing his boyfriends fanart, and then he stops thinking entirely.
---
Todoroki would love to take full credit for the discovery, but it’s actually Ochako who finds the doujin.
She’s hanging out at the apartment when Shouto comes home from hot yoga, sitting on the couch wearing one of Katsuki’s shirts and a pair of tiny shorts.
Their relationship is both complicated and simple, and everyone knows that sometimes, Katsuki gets in the mood for thick thighs and tits bouncing in his face. His friends-with-benefits thing with Uravity is just another aspect to their relationship that Todoroki had expected would cause issues, but simply… hasn’t.
When Katsuki had mentioned he wanted to fuck her, Izuku had simply shrugged and threatened him with death if he hurt her. Todoroki is as gay as it comes, but he understands some people actually want to see naked girls, and who is he to judge?
“Oh, I didn’t know you’d be home, sorry!” Ochako says, looking up from her tablet.
Todoroki only rolls his eyes. “You need the shower?” he asks, eyeing greasy hair that’s messily tucked back into a bun and sweaty cheeks. They have two showers, yeah, but the one in the master is better-stocked and Shouto likes Ochako. It’s nice to have a girl around who cares about things like smelling nice and using real shampoo.
“Eventually. You go ahead, though,” Ochako replies with a smile, eyeing Todoroki’s yoga pants and form-fitting muscle tank. She’s pointed out, more than once, that it really is a shame that he’s gay, after one too many glasses of wine.
“Alright,” Shouto says.
When he returns a while later, a towel wrapped around his neck and damp bangs clinging to his forehead, Ochako is right where he left her.
“Hey, can I show you something?” she asks eagerly with a smile.
Shouto moves to sit down, and Ochako flushes bright red
“Uh, you might wanna sit on the other side,” she says apologetically, patting the opposite cushion.
“Seriously? On the couch?” Shouto says, as if he’s not the one usually a dripping, sobbing mess all over every single damn surface of the apartment on a regular basis. At least he pays rent.
“Would you rather the bed?” Ochako asks with a wicked smile.
“We have a guest room,” Shouto points out, but then he’d have to wash the sheets and remake the guest bed. He decides to let it go.
Flopping down next to Uraraka, Todoroki leans his head against her shoulder. She smells like sex and sweat, but he doesn’t really care that much. She’s comfortable and Shouto is nothing if not incredibly needy for attention from literally anyone .
“What’d you want to show me?” he asks.
“Oh, you’re going to love it,” Uraraka promises with an evil glint in her eye.
She passes her phone over, and Todoroki blinks as he examines the screen. It’s an artist’s page, with a link to a doujin to purchase.
“Is it terrible?” he asks, as he clicks the preview images-- but it’s a rhetorical question that requires no real answer, because the grin that spreads across his face is absolutely wicked, mirroring Ochako’s. Todoroki loves her. He might be gay, but sometimes he contemplates marrying Ochako Uraraka just so that nobody else can have her and they can plot world devastation together.
“Hey, is that…?” he says, obviously impressed.
“Yep,” Uraraka replies happily, wiggling her painted toenails as she props them up on the coffee table. Shouto doesn’t have it in him to be annoyed about it.
“ That’s a blast from the past,” he says. “Izuku tries not to use Black Whip in public anymore. Most people don’t even know it exists…”
They’d agreed, years ago, that One For All is too dangerous for public knowledge. Those who do know are sworn to secrecy, and Izuku tries to keep his multiple quirks under wraps as much as possible. The tentacles are too flashy, so he saves it for absolute emergencies.
“Old media footage, maybe?” Ochako says.
“Maybe,” Shouto replies. “God, I love dedicated fanartists and their filthy minds.”
He purchases the doujin immediately, shipping it anonymously to his PO Box under a pseudonym. The last thing he needs is the internet catching wind of the fact that Shouto Todoroki himself has an expansive doujin collection of Deku doing the most depraved things.
---
He almost forgets about the doujin until it arrives.
But when it arrives, oh does it arrive.
The timing really could not be better. Deku’s got a few rare days off, and when Shouto gets the text notification during breakfast that a package has been dropped off at his box, his eyes go all wide and shiny with the sudden possibilities.
“What’s up?” Izuku asks suspiciously, shoveling eggs in his face like he’s going to die if he doesn’t eat every single bite of his omelette this very second.
“Nothing,” Shouto says quickly, “just signed up for a class I like at the gym.”
Katsuki slides into the kitchen to steal a bite off Deku’s plate and press a kiss to messy green curls, his hero uniform accentuating his slender waist and bulging muscle. Shouto takes his time admiring the view as Izuku rolls his eyes but indulges, scooping another bite of egg into his boyfriend’s mouth.
“Don’t tell me you’re back on the pilates kick,” Katsuki says, aiming a playful jab at Todoroki.
Shouto reaches to sip at his tea. “Shut up, you like what it does for my ass.”
“Tch, love your ass, hate your ego,” Katsuki throws back. “I’ve got a double patrol. See you losers tonight.”
“Rude. I packed you lunch. It’s in the fridge,” Shouto says as he slips up out of his chair to fetch it. He’s a hopeless house-husband, so goddamn sue him, but the half-smile on Katsuki’s lips and kiss it earns him is absolutely worth it.
When the door slams shut, Shouto turns his attention back to Izuku. His boyfriend is watching him with an expression that tempts Todoroki to just throw the whole leave the house and get the mail idea behind. When Izuku Midoriya has that look in his eyes, it usually means Todoroki is about to get thrown down onto the nearest surface and fucked into absolute oblivion.
But sometimes, Shouto likes to play the game. Sometimes, a bit of teasing can be nice.
“Well, I should get going,” he says with a playful little grin tugging at his lips.
“Aw, c’mon. It’s my day off, you don’t wanna crawl back in bed with me?” Izuku asks with a pout.
“Mmm. Later,” Shouto replies. “If you’re good, Izu.”
The crestfallen expression on his boyfriend’s face goes straight to his heart, but it also goes right to his dick. Todoroki is going to have fun.
Maybe it’s a bit mean that Shouto takes his sweet time. He does, in fact, go to the gym, because Katsuki has a point: he’s flexible as hell and his ass looks amazing in yoga pants. Hero work might not agree entirely with Todoroki, he’s tired, but he knows how to look good. He picks up a box of pastries at the local French bakery, and then, finally, stops for his package.
The bubble envelope is so innocent looking, but Shouto knows the evils that lurk within. Grinning, he tucks it into his gym bag and makes his way back home.
Izuku is balls-deep in a really stupid anime gatcha game when Todoroki finally gets home, shortly before lunch, and he pouts when he realizes that his boyfriend probably passed the morning in a mindless haze.
How dare.
“Did you move from that spot all morning?” he asks as he slips out of his shoes and pads across the apartment. Izuku tips his head back, breaking into a smile as Shouto approaches.
“God, I love those leggings,” he says. “Uh, I just meant to play for like, twenty minutes…”
“And how long ago was that?” Shouto rolls his eyes.
Izuku flushes, reaching for his phone. “Uh, four hours, oops. Shit, I have a bunch of texts.”
“It’s your day off,” Shouto reminds sternly, reaching to grab the phone from his boyfriend’s hand, frowning disapprovingly as Izuku desperately twists around and reaches for it.
“There’s a text from Kacchan, it might be important,” Izuku says.
“It’s not. He’d call. And if you didn’t answer, he’d call me,” Shouto points out.
If it was important, Izuku’s phone would be blowing up. If it was really important, the city would be blowing up around them. It’s Izuku’s biggest flaw-- he’s convinced that the world needs him all the time, that if he isn’t being a hero, he’s still a kid again, quirkless and useless, and it hurts Shouto’s heart. His boyfriend deserves a day off.
“Katsuki’s got it under control,” Todoroki says. “C’mon. I brought you something.”
That distracts Izuku properly. He sets the game controller aside, scooting over to make room for Todoroki on the couch.
Shouto sits down. “We should deep-clean the couch,” he comments idly. He hasn’t forgotten Ochako being fucked raw into the upholstery, and she isn’t the only one who’s made a mess and left slightly dark stains against the fabric.
Izuku blinks. “Do I wanna know?”
“Nope,” Shouto says. He pulls the package from his bag and hands it over. He’s still slightly sweaty from the gym, hair mussed, but Todoroki doesn’t care. They’re all gross anyway. “Open.”
Scarred fingers carefully examine the package, and Izuku’s eyes narrow suspiciously, before the revelation dawns. He groans, shaking his head. “Oh goddamnit, did you buy another doujin?”
“Just open it, Midoriya,” Todoroki replies.
Shouto Todoroki has a great poker face. It’d been a necessity, growing up with Endeavor as a father. Keep a blank expression, deny everything, agree mindlessly-- it’d been the best way to deal with his nightmare father. It’s the reason that the press dares to think he’s cool, next to his abrasive, petty boyfriends.
Right now, though, he’s failing at keeping it together. His lips quirk into a smirk, eyes dancing devilishly as Izuku rips the packaging open. He watches eagerly as Deku pulls the book from the envelop, flipping it around--
“... oh fuck,” Izuku swears out loud, staring in horror for a long moment. “Is that-- since when do the fans know about Black Whip?!”
“I did some research,” Todoroki says. He’d gotten curious, after Ochako had found it, and the two of them had texted back and forth for hours as they dug into the depths of the internet. Bless her. He contemplates proposing for the thousandth time. “I guess a super old, grainy video exists from the Liberation War, back when…”
He falls silent. They don’t talk about their time during the war. It’s all painful, raw, still harsh memories that Todoroki himself doesn’t like to face.
“People assume it’s manipulated, since so much was going on, but--”
Izuku flips through the pages, shaking his head, and he can’t help it; he outright bursts into laughter. “Oh my god, you’re seriously telling me some super obsessed, niche part of my fandom discovered I have another quirk and instead of exposing me, they’re making porn?”
Shouto smiles. “Never underestimate the power of depravity, Izuku.”
Todoroki shamelessly leans in, crowding Midoriya’s space as he reaches for the book. He pages through it, hopelessly pleased that it really is as awful as he’d hoped, involving a tentacled Deku using Black Whip to pin down both Shouto and Katsuki.
“Hey, can your quirk actually do that?” he asks, a long finger tapping on a panel where the tendrils of Izuku’s Black Whip have outright turned into thick, tapered tentacles. One is buried deep inside Katsuki’s ass; another is pushed deep into Todoroki’s mouth and stretching his jaw open.
Todoroki knows it’s just gross porn, it’s all kinds of weird and really, he should probably be more upset than he is, but instead his dick twitches. There’s something really nice about the thought of having his face forcibly stuffed full with any part of Izuku.
“Uh, probably?” Izuku says, blinking. “Is that a not-so-subtle suggestion?”
The page turns, and this time, Shouto can’t keep it together. He’s normally so good at scrapping together some semblance of dignity, even when it’s just around his boyfriends, but.
Shouto Todoroki has a lot of kinks. He loves sex-- there’s something so simple about it. He knows a lot of his issues stem from abandonment and mistreatment, a deep loneliness and isolation that he’s really only begun to dive into, despite having two incredibly supportive partners. Sex is basic physical affection, it feels good, and he doesn’t have to think about it.
But god, if Izuku or Katsuki want to completely wreck him and turn him into an unbearable, boneless mess, all it takes is a tongue in his ass, and they both know it.
“Fuck,” Izuku says, “hey, that’s a great idea.”
He doesn’t have to elaborate. In the doujin, Izuku’s scarred hands are spreading Shouto’s pale thighs wide. His jaw is stretched open, and instead of his tongue, there’s a thick, wet tendril of black whip snaking its way into Todoroki’s body, splitting him open.
“You can do that with your tongue,” Todoroki says. “I’ve seen you use Black Whip with your tongue.”
For a moment, Izuku doesn’t reply.
Shouto watches the expression shift across that gorgeous face, and his cock twitches where he’s trapped in too-tight yoga pants, because he recognizes the glimmer in Midoriya’s eyes. Deku is thinking, he’s plotting, and that means--
It happens fast, because it always does.
Izuku closes the book and leans forward to set it on the coffee table, and then, he’s on Todoroki in an instant.
Between one heartbeat and the next, suddenly Shouto finds himself pinned down on the couch. His chest squeezes, heart thumping wildly against the constriction of his ribcage, and then Izuku is on top of him, a feral mess of crackling green energy that makes his toes curl.
“You want it?” Izuku murmurs, lips finding his jaw, and oh, Shouto aches with the sharp, sudden burn of his own arousal.
The part of Todoroki that desperately wants to live up to the image of cool hero he presents entertains the idea of shoving back, of pushing Izuku down and forcibly taking it. Maybe he’ll make Deku beg. But then Izuku’s tongue lips a stripe along Shouto’s throat. The tang of salt makes Izuku groan, and the sound goes right to Shouto’s cock.
He lifts a long leg up, wraps it around Izuku’s strong waist, and grinds his hips up. The beginning bulge of his erection rocks lazily into the junction of Midoriya’s thighs, and the heat begins to spread, a slow but needy fan of fire creeping through his veins.
“Fuck, Izu, you know what I want,” Shouto groans.
Lips latch onto his clavicle, Izuku sucking a dark mark into smooth skin shamelessly, and Shouto’s heel digs harder into his boyfriend’s lower back.
“I know,” Izuku murmurs, “it’s just hot when you say it.”
Shouto’s head falls back, offering up more room. A hand tangles in Izuku’s hair, guiding the other man down greedily. He groans as Izuku nips and bites his way down, the sensation dulled when he encounters his shirt. That’s a problem-- but only for a moment, because strong hands grope at the hem. They’re both flexible, and Izuku barely has to pull away to tug Shouto’s damp shirt up over his head and toss it aside.
Teeth tug at one nipple, and the pain-pleasure blossoms through him, hardwired directly to Shouto’s twitching cock. He moans, shameless and wanton and open, the flames licking inside of him building faster. It’s always like this-- Shouto always wants to take, wants to demand, but when Izuku gives him what he wants, he’s helpless to his own burning body.
“Careful,” Izuku laughs, “don’t start a fire, Sho.”
There’s steam already rising from his skin, and they’ve barely even started. Shouto hates himself a little, but then Izuku grinds his hips down, and the delicious friction to his cock drags a desperate, needy moan from his throat.
Fuck it. He wants.
“Fuck off, I’ve got it under control,” Shouto groans. He tugs at Izuku’s hair, frantically pulling the other man back in. He probably doesn’t have it under control; his fingertips are burning, and there’s a distinct iciness slipping down his right side.
“Sure,” Izuku says, the word muffled as he bites Shouto’s other nipple, clever teeth tugging at the sensitive nub, working it into an erect point. It’s blatant foreplay, cruel really, and Shouto arches his body off the couch, desperately pushing back against the wet seal of Izuku’s lips.
It never takes much for Todoroki to become a mindless, writhing mess of need. All he can think about is touch, as Midoriya slides expertly down his body. He whines at the loss of friction, when his hips grind upward and meet nothing but air, no sweet grind of a strong body against his aching cock. Lips skim down the length of his belly, a tongue tracing the ridges of his abs, dipping into his abdomen and sending sparks fluttering across Shouto’s skin. His muscles jump and tense, fingers tangle in Izuku’s hair again, but the other man shakes him off.
“Spread your legs,” Izuku murmurs, low and demanding, and the tone drips sex appeal. Shouto moans again, shifting awkwardly. Already, he’s drunk on need-- limbs feel heavy, body aching with anticipation and desire. Still, he knows he looks good; Izuku’s eyes burn into him as the other man slips down onto the floor. Shouto parts his legs obediently, hips rolling upward in invitation.
Deku looks fucking fantastic, knelt between his legs. It makes Todoroki feel powerful, feel like even though he is useless in a lot of ways, Izuku Midoriya loves him. Those bright eyes burn into him, drag slow and appreciatively over every curve of his body. There’s a flush already spreading across freckled cheeks, and Izuku’s tongue darts out to wet his lips in anticipation as scarred fingers tug at the band of his pants.
Shouto is shameless, arching his back and keeping heterochromatic eyes locked on Izuku’s as creamy, pale skin is revealed. Izuku peels his pants and underwear down in one solid motion, Todoroki’s cock springing free to settle heavily on his belly. He slides a hand down, curls it lazily around his cock. It’s more for show than for his own relief, his grip loose, relaxed, as he drags his hand along silky-smooth, heated flesh. Todoroki lifts his hips, fucks upward into his own fist, moaning low and needy, all for Midoriya.
“Fuck,” Deku swears. In front of the world, he’s a ray of fucking sunshine, bubbly and warm, even his arguing with Kacchan lighthearted and playful. Behind closed doors, he’s a goddamn monster, feral with a filthy mouth and a filthy tongue and a body that can split Todoroki in half when he wants to.
“Yeah,” Shouto agrees, “fuck me, Izu.”
Strong hands grip at his thighs, and even though Shouto had obediently spread his legs for his boyfriend -- he’s good, he always is -- it’s not enough for greedy Izuku. Shouto whines, a pulse of heat surging as he’s caught off guard with how rough Midoriya is treating him. Fingers grip roughly into the soft undersides of his thighs, hard enough to bruise, and his hips pull and ache as he’s practically bent in half and wrenched forward.
“I’ve got you,” Izuku murmurs, wrenching him forward. Like this, Shouto’s half-dangling off the edge of the couch, his legs pushed up and open, his ankles practically behind his head. He feels exposed, vulnerable, ass spread wide. He’d be embarrassed, if it wasn’t so fucking hot-- being completely under Deku’s control, those hands rough enough to bruise and leave marks on his skin like a damn brand. He feels possessed, claimed.
The first drag of Izuku’s tongue against his ass makes Shouto moan.
It’s a low, desperate sound, one that he doesn’t even recognize. Hot-wet pressure laps at the tight rim of his ass, working the muscle loose and messy. Shouto’s whole body shudders, and he tries to rock his ass down, tries to get more pressure, but Izuku’s holding him firm. The other man draws back, tips his head to bite into the meat of Shouto’s ass, right at the seam. The sting of pain does nothing to cut through the arousal-- the sensations meld together, liquid arousal searing down Todoroki’s spine.
He fists at his cock, and Izuku does nothing to stop him -- they both know what happens, if Todoroki gets himself off too soon. It’s not enough, he needs more.
“Such a pretty thing,” Izuku murmurs, his voice rough with his own arousal. “You wanna be a good boy, Shouto?”
Deku’s breath is hot against the curve of Shouto’s ass again. It’s not fair.
Todoroki does wanna be good. He wants it in so many ways, he doesn’t even know where to begin, or how to even express it. There’s a part of him that’s still small, still craves validation and approval. There’s the part of him that wants to be cradled and held, wants to be protected. There’s the part that needs a strong body on top of him, a dick inside of him, hot voice in his ear telling him it’s okay, he’s a perfect little fucktoy, he’s good at this--
Another lap at his tight hole drags an even more frantic moan from Shouto’s lips, and he realizes, it’s not a tongue--
It’s hot and it’s wet, but it’s more flexible than a tongue, long and tapered at the tip. Todoroki feels like he’s going to die as arousal floods his insides. His cock leaks against his belly, and he thumbs over the swollen tip, smearing the precome around and digging his nail into the slit.
“Oh my god, Izu, don’t fucking stop--” he demands, even though it’s not commanding at all; it’s a plea, a prayer, he’s going to die if Izuku denies him now.
Izuku’s not-a-tongue wriggles against the rim of his ass, and Shouto bears down, desperately rocking his hips to try and fuck himself open. Nails sink into his skin, cutting tiny crescents -- a warning -- but he doesn’t care, the little bite of pain only making him that much more frantic.
His boyfriend hums a warning, but there are no words, his mouth is too occupied. Shouto twists, tries to look down, and his eyes widen at the sight of the thick, black tendril working its way from Izuku’s mouth. It’s something out of a goddamn horror movie, if he’s being honest, and Todoroki doesn’t know what it says about him, the way his balls tighten and his erection smears more wet onto his own belly.
The pressure against his ass increases though, and Shouto lets his head fall back again, gets lost in the feeling as he’s split open. There’s slick, and he doesn’t know if it’s saliva or just Izuku doing something weird; it doesn’t matter. Shouto’s eyes burn with unshed tears as he desperately palms at his cock, riding the stretch and the ache as he’s opened up, inch by inch.
It’s slow, teasing. The tentacle wriggles against his inner walls, opening him agonizingly, smearing viscous slick against his inner walls until he’s dripping. Something messily runs down his crack, wets his inner thighs, Izuku’s jaw and cheeks. Todoroki whines, feeling the fabric of the couch dampen beneath him, the pulse in his gut twisting and aching.
He wants to be wrecked. There’s a pressure in his balls, in his cock, in his ass. He wants to be stuffed full, dominated and owned. He wants to be pumped full of Izuku’s come, full of whatever slick his Black Whip is excreting.
“Please, Deku--” he gasps his boyfriend’s hero name. He wants to be fucked open by every appendage, tentacles and fists and Izuku’s cock, until he can’t walk. He wants Katsuki to come home to find him collapsed and dripping, wants his other boyfriend to laugh and manhandle his exhausted body open, to push fingers into his sore hole and spread the mess around and then fuck him again.
God, Shouto is a fucking mess.
Izuku can’t respond, because the tentacle pushes deeper inside of Shouto’s body, grinding against his inner walls as he’s loosened open. There’s a sudden, sharp burst of pleasure exploding in his brain, and his vision whites out. His cock pulses and jerks on his belly as Izuku finds his prostate, relentlessly twisting his tentacle-tongue into the sensitive bundle of nerves.
It’s too much, too much, and Shouto tries to warn, but all that comes out is a strangled cry. There’s sweat beading on his brow, his bangs sticking to his too-hot forehead. The air feels thick, humid, steam rising.
Izuku doesn’t care, he never does. He wrenches Shouto’s thighs again, holds him open even as Todoroki’s body contorts and twists. He doesn’t know if he’s trying to pull away to have some damn relief from the too-much sensation flooding his body, or if he’s trying to grind deeper, to ease the deafening throb that’s pulsating. His ass is already stretched, already feels sore. His cock jumps again, hard and wet and resting in a pool of his own sticky precome against his belly, and Shouto slips his cold hand down to fondle at his balls, squeezing the sensitive sacs and rolling them in his palm. The sharp iciness hurts, and god, it does nothing to bring him down.
“Izu, I’m going to--” Shouto tries to warn in a broken voice, but damn Midoriya, he doesn’t listen.
Another twist and he pushes deeper, stretches Shouto’s ass even wider. It hurts, the muscle tightening and clenching before relenting to the pressure, giving way as Izuku fucks him open even more. It’s so much, so deep, Shouto’s pretty sure there’s a tentacle all the way up into his guts. He gasps sharply; sparks flicker from his fingers as he scrabbles at Izuku’s hair.
Izuku’s tentacle grinds into his prostate again though, and suddenly it’s over. There’s no escaping, no getting away; Shouto’s body twists and contorts but strong hands hold him firm and stab into the hypersensitive nerves. His cock is so hard it hurts, and Shouto desperately curls his fingers around the base, squeezes, but even as he does, his abdomen clenches and his orgasm slams him like a fucking freight truck.
“Fuck! Izu- ku!”
Shouto doesn’t know if he’s screaming or sobbing. His throat hurts; he can’t breathe, his lungs heaving desperately to keep up, but it’s not enough. He’s lightheaded, everything hurts, and he’s too hot, he can’t calm down, even though half his body is freezing, the fingers on his right hand numb. Semen spatters his chest, a smear catching on his chin and dripping down his throat. He needs a break, needs a moment for the world to come back, but Midoriya--
Midoriya doesn’t fucking stop.
Shouto’s limbs tremble violently. He feels stretched too-thin, opened up and raw and hurting. His hips feel like they’re going to pop out of joint and shatter, he’s bent so open. His ass pulses and throbs, the muscle of his rim stretched too much, and Shouto knows he’s raw and red and open around the thick girth of the black tendril wriggling inside of him.
He palms at his cock, feeling it jump under the touch, another smear of mess trickling over his fingers, smearing across searing skin. One of Izuku’s hands releases his thigh and there’s a moment of relief, a split second when Shouto can relax and breathe, it’s over, except then Izuku’s scarred fingers curl around his cock.
It hurts, and Shouto gasps and twists his body up, desperately trying to wrench away as overstimulated nerves crash around in his battered brain. The motion only rocks his hips down though, against the tentacle fucking him. It pushes Deku deeper - impossibly - and the other man groans as fingers splay over his belly, pressing downward.
Shouto is exhausted. He feels boneless, he can’t move, but the sensation is-- it’s so much. It’s too much, and he feels full, aching and raw, the motion wriggling in his belly. Bleary heterochromatic eyes, wet and red-rimmed and shining, focus downward, and he gasps.
He’s a mess, torso wet with his own come and sticky with sweat and condensed steam, but-- that’s not what catches Shouto’s gaze. There’s a bulge, a thick pulsating tentacle pressing against his insides, trying to fucking stretch him open from the inside-out. It should be impossible, it should, but it isn’t.
“Oh my god, Izu, I--” Shouto gasps, and somehow, that’s enough. Nothing makes sense, he’s fucked open and hypersensitive to it all. His ass is so wet, he’s so open, Izuku looks a depraved mess lapping with thick black tentacles at the curve of his ass. The other man has to be sore, jaw worked to to oblivion, but Izuku’s eyes catch his own and he dives back in, devouring him from the inside out.
It’s too much. There’s so much pressure against his insides. The tentacle twists and convulses, pushes deeper and grinds into his prostate and Shouto stops thinking. The world disappears, and all he can think is wet, hurts, yes, no, more-- stop-- no. A hand slides down over his own belly, away from his sad, tiny little softening cock, lying in a mess of his own release. He can’t come anymore, he just can’t.
The tentacle wriggles beneath his fingertips, and he can, because he does, the world blacking out and Shouto’s lungs stopping. “Iz--” he tries to say, but he can’t breathe, he can’t do anything, he’s silently screaming as a dry orgasm wracks through him, starting at the pressure point where the slick appendage torments his prostate. It spreads through him like fire, and he’s on fire, he thinks, flames licking in front of unseeing eyes. The ceiling might be up there, or he might be dead, his lungs don’t work and his heart feels like it’s convulsing out of his chest--
When Shouto returns to the world of the living, he’s been draped across the couch. There’s a blanket tucked over him. Vaguely, he remembers being manhandled, wet, sticky lips pressing into his cheek, underneath the edges of his scar, but it feels… warm, distant. Fuzzy, like it was all a dream.
He stares up at the ceiling, unfocused eyes slowly centering. Vaguely, Shouto’s aware of the sound of the air conditioning humming distantly. There’s a gentle shift of couch cushions, and then a warm, scarred hand reaches for him as Izuku swims into view above.
“Hey. Welcome back,” Izuku says. His voice sounds rough, raw, and he winces. The hand that isn’t gently cupping Shouto’s jaw lifts to his own, rubbing.
“You killed me,” Todoroki replies. Then, he frowns, his brow furrowing. “Did that happen?”
“You passed out,” Izuku says. He’s got that very Midoriya-specific expression on his face, the one where he obviously wants to be proud of his work, but he’s holding back because there is very apparent concern on his face, just in case.
Shouto moves to sit up, but the world abruptly spins around him and he settles back down, groaning. “That’s because you ate my ass into oblivion,” he points out. “Do it again.”
Izuku stares at him for a moment, and then breaks into that trademark, self-satisfied smile. “Give my jaw like, a week to recover from that.”
“You’ve got a day. Or until Katsuki learns about what he missed,” Shouto responds. He makes another attempt at pulling himself upright, and this time, his body cooperates. As he pulls the blanket up around his naked torso, he shivers, looking down to inspect for any damage.
Apart from obvious bruising on his thighs, Izuku’s taken care of him. The mess has been carefully cleaned away from Shouto’s body, the only evidence the deep, satisfying ache that resonates through his whole body and centers on his sore ass as he shifts beneath the couch.
As for the couch--
“Shit,” Shouto says, “I think I burned a hole in the couch.”
Izuku’s smile twists into something sheepish. “Uh, yeah, I thought about flipping the cushions around, but I don’t think it’ll work.”
It’s a small price to pay, Shouto decides.
“ You’re paying for a new one,” he tells Izuku, arms crossing across his chest as if he’s not the one who initiated all this. “And we’re not letting Katsuki fuck Uraraka on it this time.”
“Fine, I’ll pay,” Izuku says with a shrug, and the ensuing double-take makes Todoroki cackle. “Wait, what? On the couch?!”
“Yeah, he’s a real sexual deviant,” Shouto replies, reaching for Izuku. Arms curl around his boyfriend’s waist and he slips in, snuggling his face into the junction of throat and shoulder. He feels safe, secure, warm. He’s well-fucked and he got what he wants. Getting what he wants is-- it’s still something new to Shouto, something he doesn’t think he’ll ever fully comprehend, but he doesn’t take it for advantage.
“Worse than all of us,” Izuku agrees, as if he hadn’t just used his tentacle tongue like an alien and licked out Shouto’s insides.
“He’s gonna be jealous,” Shouto says.
“He can wait his turn,” Midoriya replies. “My jaw hurts.”
Shouto grins. “Guess I need to find more doujin to inspire you then, Izu.”
His boyfriend gives him a playful shove, but Todoroki clings like a starfish, all long, boneless limbs with a shockingly strong grip. “Oh my god, how do people think you’re cool?!” he exclaims.
“Because I’m up against you two,” Shouto replies, “and you and Dynamight are the most painful losers I’ve ever met in my entire life.”
“You say that again and I won’t fuck you until you apologize,” Izuku threatens.
“You’d last an hour,” Shouto replies. “And then I’d go fuck Katsuki. You think I can’t get him on my side?”
“I hate you,” Izuku sighs, flopping back, giving up and letting Shouto happily crawl into his lap again, settling in like a goddamn cat. “You’re a nightmare.”
“You’re the one with a tentacle tongue, don’t talk to me about nightmares,” Shouto points out.
It’s worth it when Izuku dumps him out of his lap and sends him flailing to the floor, and even more worth it when Shouto’s fingers clamp onto Izuku’s wrist and tug him down onto the floor right alongside him. In the public eye, they’re Pro Heroes: Midoriya is capable of changing the goddamn weather, his quirk so powerful he can fly through the air and send green energy sparking. Todoroki’s ice and fire are flashy enough that it doesn’t matter if he feels every single second of it, a weight bearing down on his chest.
Right now, they’re just Izuku and Shouto, though, the same dumbasses they were in high school, just a little older, a little stupider. Katsuki will barge in and yell at them for leaving the place a mess, and then he’ll take their place right alongside them.
And Shouto Todoroki wouldn’t have it any other way, even if he is surrounded by painful losers.
---