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It started with the calendar. Todoroki hadn't meant to see it, probably hadn't been meant to see it, but someone had left the folder of proofs out on the counter in the office kitchenette. When Todoroki saw the familiar red sneaker adorning the corner of one photo where it poked out of the folder, his curiosity took the better of him. He pinched the photo carefully between his thumb and index finger and slowly drew it out.

And then he froze, gawking at the full image displayed before him. Midoriya wore his shoes, that much was true. He also wore his leg supporters and gloves, his belt and the old face guard from a previous iteration of his costume. In his left hand he held a copy of a book with the title The Modern Hero: An Analysis of the Post-All Might Era, demurely positioned over his lower body. Apart from that, he wore nothing else besides a modest dusting of red beneath his freckles.

Todoroki stood there a long moment, spine ramrod straight, as he tried to make sense of the image in front of him. Midoriya's bare shoulders gleamed, the swell of his pecs obscene beneath the face guard resting just below his neck. The book just barely preserved his modesty—Todoroki could see the curve of Midoriya’s ass just behind one of the pouches on his belt as he turned slightly to the side. Light played in the divot at the top of his thigh, and then further down in the seam of muscles where his legs disappeared under the leg supporters. Midoriya wore a nervous little smile and looked at the camera head-on, pink across his nose and cheeks.

Todoroki felt his back start to sweat.

"Oh, Shouto-san!"

Todoroki's fingers clenched on the photo. He quickly turned it face down on top of the folder, and stepped in front of the counter to hide it from view as he turned to face the person who had spoken. It was one of the high school interns—a third-year from Shiketsu with a speed Quirk. The girl was looking at him, wide-eyed and expectant and entirely unsuspicious. He realized that she hadn't noticed him ogling the photo.

"Hayanose. What is it?"

The girl smiled at him, bright and bubbly. "I'm taking orders for lunch, and I wanted to see if there was something in particular you would like."

"Ah," he said, followed by an awkward pause.

"Shouto-san?" Hayanose prompted, when the silence had dragged. Her expression took on a note of confusion.

"Ah, no," Todoroki said. "Nothing in particular, sorry. Just get me what everyone else is getting."

"Alright." She made a note on her pad, then glanced up at him again. "Are you feeling alright, Shouto-san? You look flushed."

"I'm fine," he said, a little too quickly.

Hayanose nodded. “Of course, sir, sorry.”

Todoroki cleared his throat. "Anyway," he said, "I'll be getting back to my office. Thank you, Hayanose." He grabbed the folder from the counter behind him and made a beeline for the door.

He didn't stop until he reached his office, holding his breath until he had shut the door. Then Todoroki let out a slow exhale and lifted the folder from where he'd held it in a death grip at his side. The picture of Midoriya was still turned over, but the image was burned into Todoroki's retinas; when he flipped it over again, it was exactly as he’d remembered it. He'd half expected to find he'd imagined the entire thing. But no, there was Midoriya, in the same state of dress—or undress, as it were.

Todoroki stared at the photo, trying to find the explanation for its existence and failing entirely. Maybe the other documents in the folder could help provide context? Todoroki crossed over to his desk and sat down, then laid the folder out in front of him.

He immediately regretted opening it. Inside the folder were even more photos, all of Midoriya, all in a similar vein. In one photo, Midoriya wore a yukata that was tied only loosely, falling open to expose his legs as he reclined on the floor. One freckled shoulder peeked from the open collar. Midoriya hid what appeared to be a demure smile behind an ornate fan. Another photo had an office setting—Todoroki felt heat prickling on the back of his neck when he recognized the posters on the wall and realized it actually was Midoriya's office. For this one, Midoriya was fully dressed, though the shirt he wore was so tight as to leave nothing to the imagination. Pale skin showed where the shirt gapped between straining buttons, and Todoroki felt his stomach drop when he realized he could see Midoriya's nipples through the thin fabric. His pants were hardly better, stretching taut over his thighs as he leaned against his desk. A loose tie draped over his shoulders around his unfastened collar, and he held the ends of it delicately in his blunt, scarred fingers. He gave the camera—and consequently, Todoroki—a sly, inviting look.

Todoroki scanned the rest of the photos briefly; the temptation to linger on all of them was overwhelming, but it was barely ten a.m. and he was dangerously close to having an extremely unprofessional reaction. Furthermore, his confusion over the photos' existence was starting to raise alarm bells in his head.

Who could he ask about it? For all his bluntness, Todoroki wasn't sure he’d be able to approach Midoriya directly about what he'd seen. But certainly someone had to have a hand in the photos' creation besides Midoriya, though no one immediately came to Todoroki's mind.

As Todoroki turned over the second to last photo, his hand froze. In the final picture, sitting sweetly in a playground swing, Midoriya wore a school uniform—a girl's sailor uniform, navy blue with white details and a pink scarf. The skirt was so short that his muscular thighs were on display between its hem and his knee-high socks. The top of the uniform was long-sleeved and loose, just short enough to show a glimpse of his abs above the high waistband of the skirt. A pink headband held back Midoriya's bangs, save for a few stray curls that tickled around his face. Todoroki's hand twitched with the compulsion to brush those curls away.

He clenched that hand into a fist. Who could he ask? He had to ask someone—no way he could leave this. No way he could pretend as though he'd never seen this collection of pictures. He had to know—he had to know why they were taken, what they were for, and why they'd ended up in their office suite, of all places. There had to be an explanation—there had to be. And maybe that explanation would be enough to quell the unsettling feeling stirring underneath his stomach. But who could he ask?

There was a knock on his door, and Todoroki jumped. He made a frantic attempt to gather the photos together and put them back in the folder, but the door was already opening.

"One moment!" he said, just as Uraraka poked her head in.

"Hi, sorry to bug you!" she said brightly. “But have you seen—ah!" Her eyes fell on the folder on top of his desk, which he was currently trying to hide beneath wide-splayed fingers. "There it is!" she said. Relief was evident in her voice.

Todoroki slowly pulled back his hands. "You know what this is?" he asked.

"Yes, it's for the calendar," Uraraka said as she came into the office. "I knew I'd set down the proofs somewhere, but I couldn't remember where." She laughed. "I thought Deku was gonna have a coronary if I didn't find it. Thanks for picking it up for me."

"No problem," Todoroki said haltingly. He paused as he attempted to parse her words correctly. At length, he echoed her phrasing. "For the calendar?"

"Yes, for that fundraiser," she said. She put her hands on her hips. "I'm still trying to convince Deku to sign the release on it—he's being so stubborn about it."

Todoroki thought again of Midoriya in the school uniform. His mouth felt dry. "I can't imagine why," he said.

“Anyway, I’m glad you found it and not one of the interns.” Uraraka winced. “Now that’s a conversation I wouldn’t want to have with the school administration.”

“No…” Todoroki agreed. The gears in his mind continued turning. “It’s a calendar?” he asked again.

Now Uraraka gave him an odd look. “For the Heroes Without Labels campaign. Didn’t you read my email?”

Todoroki had not, in fact, read her email. “Yes,” he said, “of course. The calendar for that campaign, I remember.”

She looked at him as though she wasn’t convinced, but she kept going anyway. “Yeah,” she said, “that one.” She stepped forward toward his desk. “I need to get the proofs to the printers as soon as I can convince Deku to agree to it, otherwise we won’t be able to get them ready in time for next year.” She shook her head. “Honestly, I don’t know why he’s complaining so much since the pictures are already done. That should’ve been the worst part, really.”

Todoroki looked down at the folder again. As Uraraka came within arm's reach, he lifted it toward her with only the barest hint of hesitation.

A calendar, he thought to himself. He'd be able to get his own copy, then. He pushed down the following thought that came immediately after, the one that said, that's what you're worried about right now?

He kept his voice even as he asked, "When are the calendars supposed to come out?"

"October," Uraraka said, as she took the folder from him. "Which is why we have to get the proofs to them by the end of the month." Her face lit up. "Actually, this is perfect!"

Todoroki felt an immediate stab of suspicion. "What is?"

"You'll see Deku tomorrow, won't you?" she asked. "Don't the two of you have an event you're working together?"

"Yes," he said carefully.

"Oh, great!" she said, practically beaming. "I swear he's been avoiding me for three days about this." She leaned forward over Todoroki's desk. "If I leave the forms with you, will you get him to sign them tomorrow?"

Todoroki's brain ground to a halt. "What?"

"He'll definitely listen to you!" Uraraka continued. "If you tell him how important this is, I know he'll sign off on it!"

"I—” Todoroki hands flexed on top of his desk. "I don't—” He fought for an excuse. Finally, he asked, "Wouldn't that be a bit awkward?" He cleared his throat. "I mean, given the subject matter..."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Uraraka said, waving her hand dismissively. "It's just for fun. Heroes do this sort of thing all the time."

"Do they?"

Uraraka laughed. "Oh yeah," she said. "You should’ve seen some of the pictures I found in my mom's stash when I was a kid."

"I see."

"Loads of heroes too, all different rankings. Even people out of the top ten."

Todoroki turned this information over in his brain, and then suddenly the souring thought occurred unbidden of Endeavor taking part in something similar. His stomach flipped over in a queasy blend of anger and disgust. Thankfully, the horrific concept was enough to destroy any lingering remnants of his earlier ardor.

When he spoke again, his voice was back to his usual impassive tone.

"Uraraka, I'm not sure I'm comfortable with—”

"Thank you very much, Todoroki-san," Uraraka said, as she leaned her weight forward on both hands against his desk. Her voice was cold, her eyes sharp and murderous.

Todoroki could almost swear the air between them had chilled, and it had nothing at all to do with his Quirk. "Of course," he said. "No problem."



At the end of the day, when Todoroki finally decided he was at as good of an endpoint as could be found in his current stack of paperwork, he tidied his desk and packed his bag and absolutely avoided making a decision for as long as he possibly could.

There was no reason to take the folder home with him. No reason. None at all. It would be fine in his desk, locked in his office. He wouldn't see Midoriya before the next day anyway, and there was absolutely nothing more he needed to do about it until then. Uraraka had left him the forms, and all he needed to do was get Midoriya to sign them.

So. No reason then. It would stay in his desk, and he would go home and have dinner and go to bed, just as though he'd never seen the photos. Everything would be normal and fine, and he wouldn't think about it at all after that.

Todoroki told himself this over and over. He told himself this right up until the moment he pulled open the drawer of his desk to extract the folder, then slid it carefully down between the files in his bag.

Just for safekeeping, he thought briefly, and then he rolled his eyes, wondering why he kept choosing to lie to himself about it.

Along the route home, Todoroki imagined the folder burning a hole through his papers, through the side of his leather satchel, into the flesh of his leg all the way to the bone. He felt sweat beading on the back of his overly-warm neck and summoned a little chill to dispel it.

It wasn't a big deal, just as Uraraka had suggested. There was no reason to make any fuss about it. Midoriya did charity events all the time, and Deku was a popular hero with many female fans—it made sense, really. Just another way for him to use his assets to achieve his goal of top hero.

Todoroki smirked. Assets, he thought again, isn't that clever.

His apartment was dark when he came in the foyer. For a little while he was able to busy himself with the routine of coming home: putting his shoes away, laying his bag next to the wall, hanging his coat in the closet. From there, drumming up some food was next on the list, followed by a bath.

Afterward, once Todoroki had changed into a pair of thin sweatpants and a cotton undershirt, he finally allowed himself to stray back toward the door where he had left his bag.

The folder was tucked so far in that Todoroki had to pull out a number of files in order to slip it out. He sat on the floor as he did so, carefully extracting and setting his work notes aside, before he dared to close his fingers around the folder. He closed his eyes and steeled himself, then slowly pulled it free.

Todoroki held the folder closed for a moment, resting it on his crossed legs as his stomach churned inside him. The tangled heat that had stirred underneath his stomach in his office was now returning with a vengeance. Part of him knew he should've put the folder back, that he shouldn't have looked at it again, that he absolutely needed to turn back from the current path. But another part—a larger, louder part, a part that had slumbered quietly under years of rationalized admiration, of genuine affection, of respect and self-control—this part of him suddenly rose up powerful and unchallenged, and Todoroki was unable to resist its call.

He opened the folder.

He leafed through the photos he'd already looked at—Midoriya in his costume’s accessories, in the yukata, in his office. Todoroki slowed when he reached the photos he'd only briefly glanced at in order to give them more attention.

In one, Midoriya sat cross-legged in a loose white button-up that was only half fastened over a pair of boxer briefs—this seemed fairly mundane compared to the other photos, save for the fact that he was holding three equally adorable golden retriever puppies in his arms. One was turned toward him, pink tongue flat against the underside of his chin. Midoriya's eyes were closed, and he was laughing.

A smile found its way to Todoroki's lips, and the unsettling feeling inside him eased. It was still Midoriya, he thought. Still just Midoriya.

Todoroki couldn't help but wonder if Jirou had a hand in the next photo. Against a backdrop of a brick wall, Midoriya wore a pair of black leather pants and a torn sleeveless shirt that showed off his sculpted arms and shoulders. Leather bands with dangling laces adorned his wrists, and his fingernails had been painted black. One hand he held fisted below his face with his index and pinky fingers extended. Dramatic makeup highlighted the angles of his face; dark eyeliner and black lipstick sharpened his usually soft features. His mouth was open, pink tongue hanging out of it.

Todoroki's eyes zeroed in on Midoriya's chest when he realized that a dusky nipple peeked through one of the gaps in the shirt. His hand almost trembled as he pinched the corner of this photo and turned to the next one.

It was set in a gym; Midoriya held aloft a barbell with a huge amount of weight affixed to either end. The muscles in his arms bulged beneath the strain, but his smile appeared brilliant and effortless. This photo could've been from any public ad, except Midoriya wore only sneakers and a pair of running shorts that were at least two sizes too small. Sweat highlighted the ridges in his abs and hips where they disappeared under the waistband of his shorts. His exposed thighs were pale and freckled. Pale lines of old scars and long-healed wounds criss-crossed his body, a physical testament to his courage and strength of will. Todoroki swallowed hard before turning to the next photo, then tensed immediately.

In this one, Midoriya stood in a bathroom with his back to the camera. He was holding a corner of a towel in each hand, using it to cover his backside and the upper parts of his thighs, but the towel was open toward his front. Water droplets adorned the smooth planes of his back and legs like tiny jewels. He looked back over his shoulder, his eyes soft and lips curved in a small, lovely smile.

The heat curling inside Todoroki's stomach collapsed into a sharp brick and sank lower. A soft groan escaped his mouth. His hands flexed involuntarily, and it took a great deal of effort to hold himself back from creasing the photos. He gently set them down on the floor.

Sweat adhered Todoroki's shirt to his back. His heart pounded inside his chest as arousal and self-loathing fought inside him. Was he really so shameless as to do this? It was useless to lie to himself about his intentions in bringing home the folder—but did he actually possess the depravity to stoop so low?

Todoroki knew the answer.

He used one hand to spread out the photos in front of him. The other he slipped into the front of his sweatpants to palm at his growing erection. His lips parted at the contact, breath escaping in a soft sigh. Todoroki’s gaze panned over the photos as he began to stroke himself slowly. Each one was unique, highlighting a different aspect of Midoriya’s features—his face, his neck, his stomach, his thighs. He was freckled everywhere, his skin almost glowing, nearly hairless except for a dark dusting on his chest and below his navel.

Todoroki groaned again, slightly louder. His cock grew hard and full in his hand, and pleasure twinged up his spine. He pushed down the waistband of his pants until he could get a better grip on himself.

The photo of Midoriya in the yukata was directly in front of him. Todoroki’s eyes trailed the length of Midoriya’s legs from his ankles to where his thighs disappeared under the loosely draped fabric. It looked so easy—so easy to slide his hands up those thighs and higher, to reach underneath and find out how to make Midoriya gasp.

What would he sound like, Todoroki wondered. Would he be loud, would he moan and cry out? Would he be soft and quiet, with only breath and sighs to give away his pleasure? Todoroki could imagine his mouth, lips full and parted, wet from his tongue. How easy it would be to kiss him, to silence any sound he might make, until Todoroki would undo the sash of his yukata and let it fall open, until he’d press his body down onto Midoriya’s and take him to pieces.

Shouto, Midoriya would whimper, and Todoroki would come across that perfect freckled stomach, or on his chest, any of the skin exposed to him.

Shit,” Todoroki hissed. Heat curled up his legs like slipping into a bath; his balls tightened between his thighs. He grabbed the base of his cock in one hand and used the other to catch the come spilling from him in thick pulses. He hunched down over his legs as he trembled with the force of his orgasm, biting his lip hard to keep himself quiet.

When it was over, Todoroki sat up slowly, legs still quivering beneath him. As his breathing slowly evened out, his eyes returned to the photos spread out on the floor.

“Shit,” he repeated.



He wished he could say it was the only time he gave in to the temptation of the photographs, but even before he climbed into bed that evening, Todoroki found his attention wandering back to them, back to the flushed skin and sculpted muscles, and that shy, sweet smile. After he was unable to resist a second bout of weakness, Todoroki worried he would damage or tarnish the proofs. He took careful photos of each one with his phone, then put them neatly away in the protective folder.

The girl’s uniform was particularly fascinating. Todoroki swiped through the photos as he lay in bed, but he returned again and again to that image: Midoriya in the swing, the short skirt, the glimpse of his stomach, the soft curls around his face. There was something so sweet about it—and something else so the opposite that it made Todoroki’s toes curl.

It took a long time that night for Todoroki to settle into a restless sleep, one filled with dreams of scarred skin and callused hands, tight heat and soft sighs. When he woke the next morning, hot and cold and unbelievably hard, he fumbled for his phone beside him, scrambling to revisit the last photo again, eyes moving between Midoriya’s face, the line of his neck, the peek of his stomach, his broad hand wrapped around the chains of the swing.

Push me? Midoriya would ask, with something else glinting behind his luminous eyes. Todoroki could see the nervous curl to those pink lips. Looking more closely, he noticed the reflective shine of lipgloss.

He wondered how those lips might look wrapped around his cock, that sticky lipgloss smeared across the flushed skin.

Todoroki had only just gotten his hand in his boxers when he came with a shuddering gasp, pumping up hard in his fist.

He stared at the ceiling afterward as disgust overcame the lingering remnants of arousal. He still had to work that day—he had to work with Midoriya that day. And they had a public event, an opening for a rehabilitation center for troubled kids. Todoroki wasn’t looking forward to the effort it would take to shove his feelings down. At least he was well practiced, he mused.

Todoroki closed his eyes and flung an arm over his sweaty face. He was less than pleased to discover the images of Midoriya had been painted on the insides of his eyelids.

No, this did not bode well at all.



There was a small consolation in the fact that once his day got busy, the memory of the photos receded to the background of Todoroki’s mind, scratching quietly there like a tree branch against a window on a windy day. His daily patrol was interrupted by a trio of villains attempting to rob a convenience store—nothing he couldn’t handle, but routing the would-be robbers and rescuing their hostages was enough to distract him for a little while. Todoroki would’ve been relieved by the hours of the day passing quickly, except that each one brought him closer to his afternoon commitment with Midoriya, closer to whatever internal confrontation awaited him there.

Would it be better to call in sick? Surely he could call someone to fill in for him—Kirishima was always game for public appearances, and Iida had never refused him any favors. But no—he still had the forms from Uraraka for Midoriya to sign, and he couldn’t pass those off to someone else. And if he didn’t show up, Uraraka would be suspicious, and even worse, Midoriya would be worried. Midoriya would have questions. Maybe it was better to keep everything as normal as possible.

Right. He’d keep telling himself that until he believed it.

A car came to pick him up at three. Midoriya was already at the venue. He'd been there all day spending time with the kids, because of course he was. Todoroki would probably feel a bit less guilty about his recent activities if Midoriya wasn't so stupidly good all the time. Couldn't he do something rotten once in awhile? Maybe he would steal some candy from one of the kids. Todoroki could only hope.

Along the way, he wondered if he was overreacting. Did it really need to be such a big deal in the first place? It wasn't like his attraction to Midoriya was something new—he'd silently harbored those feelings for years, after all. And he hadn't stolen the folder, Uraraka had left it with him. There didn't need to be any suspicions on his motives. He could remain silent, and everything would remain the same.

The venue was already crawling with press when Todoroki arrived. He managed to politely push his way through into the front lobby, stopping only momentarily to offer a few words to a handful of reporters. Once inside, Todoroki located Midoriya almost immediately—he was difficult to miss, surrounded as he was by a gaggle of kids of varying ages. Most seemed to be around ten to twelve years old, but there were a few that looked as young as five.

Supporting the center had been important to Todoroki. He’d never tried to hide that fact, but it occurred to him that Midoriya was one of the few people who understood the true reasons why.

Midoriya looked up at that moment, catching his eye from across the front lobby. He smiled at Todoroki, bright and easy, and Todoroki's brain flashed to the picture of him with the puppies. Still Midoriya, he thought, still just Midoriya.

Midoriya. His friend. His first real friend. Todoroki’s stomach lurched with guilt.

“Shouto!” Midoriya called.

Todoroki’s breath caught for all of half a second before he remembered he was in costume for the opening—Midoriya was using his hero name, not his real one. He quickened his pace to a light jog and closed the distance between them.

Several of the kids had looked his way when Midoriya had called for him, and some of them peeled off Midoriya to meet him halfway.


“Can I have your autograph?”

”Shouto, show us a trick!”

“Shouto—look here! Shouto!”

Todoroki nodded at the kids before stepping closer to Midoriya. “Busy day?” he asked.

“Yeah!” Midoriya returned. His eyes sparkled above his flushed cheeks. “It’s been really great!”

A smile pulled at Todoroki’s lips. “That’s good,” he said. He turned away and reached for the nearest outstretched pen.

He held it together for most of the afternoon. It helped that they were surrounded by other people—the press and the staff of the facility, the kids underfoot. Deku was on in full-force, and it was easy enough for Shouto to fall in step beside him—two elite heroes, saving the world one child at a time. Villains are only half of the puzzle, as Midoriya often said.

It wasn’t until the event started winding down, ending with a cocktail hour for the affluent backers of the center, that his facade finally began to crack.

The man who had cornered him was just the sort of philanthropist that Todoroki hated most—male, late middle-age, healthy and handsome, probably born into wealth and affluence and utterly convinced he’d gotten there all on his own.

“Tell me, Shouto,” the man said, with an amiable clap on his shoulder. “You’re more of an action-type hero, aren’t you? We can never get you out to most fundraising events. What drew you to this place?” The man gave Todoroki a pleasant white-toothed smile that made his skin crawl. “I’m sure my foundation has other projects you may be interested in.”

Todoroki fought the urge to shrug off the man’s lingering hand. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “Feel free to send the information to our office.”

“Now, now,” the man said. “That sounds an awful lot like you’re just trying to blow me off.”

“Of course not,” Todoroki said in the same even tone as before. “But we’ll have to see how things fit into my schedule.”

The man leaned in. He reeked of alcohol. Todoroki just managed to resist leaning away. “Listen,” the man said, “it would look good for both of us. An elite hero like you, he’s concerned with his ranking, right? People see you at charity events, they think you’re this great guy, you come out on top. And our foundation gets a lot of buzz, which gets us a lot of donors.” He moved his hand forward to clink his nearly empty glass against Todoroki’s. “We both win, don’t you think?”


“What do you say? Surely we can come to some mutually beneficial agreement.” He smiled again, uncomfortably close.

Many years had passed since that day in the hospital when Todoroki’s anger had overcome his rationality and he’d almost taken a swing at the chief of police. He’d spent a long time tightening his impulsiveness, slowing down his immediate reaction to fight, choosing instead to watch, and wait, and see. But even all the practice those years had given him wasn’t enough to hold back the bile in Todoroki’s throat at the sight and scent of the man so close to him, the smug, self-congratulatory look on the man’s face, like they were at a party in his honor alone. The disgust welled up and spilled over.

“I have one question,” Todoroki said. “If I’m going to work with your foundation, there is something I would like to know.”

“Oh yes? What’s that?”

Todoroki couldn’t have kept the derision from his voice even if he’d tried. And he didn’t try. “Tell me, sir,” he said, “exactly how much of the money you raise actually goes to the causes you raise it for?”

There was a beat where the man stared at him quizzically, the ugly smile still in place. Then, as the meaning of Todoroki’s words became clear, the pleasant look to his face began to drop. “Excuse me?” he said.

“I’m just curious,” Todoroki said.

The man’s expression edged away from confusion toward anger. “I beg your pardon,” he said. “I’ll have you know that I have raised millions—millions—for—”

“Everything okay here?”

Todoroki’s gaze shot sideways at the third voice, his eyes catching on a pair of green ones.

“Everything okay?” Midoriya repeated. He looked casual enough, but Todoroki could see the sharpness to his eyes, the subtle way he held himself, ready to move in an instant.

Todoroki leaned away from the man as he continued to sputter indignantly. “Of course,” he said. “We were just discussing collaborating on future fundraisers.”

“Uh-huh,” Midoriya said. He eyed the man next to Todoroki carefully. “Well, I’m sorry, sir, I’m afraid I need to steal Shouto away for a bit.” He offered a diplomatic smile. “I hope you understand.”

“I—I’ve never been so insulted in my entire—”

“Yes, of course, sorry,” Midoriya said. “We’ll be going now.” He reached over, grabbed Todoroki’s arm, and pulled him away.

When they were out of earshot, Midoriya tugged Todoroki closer and said in a low voice, “you know, alienating our backers probably isn’t the best idea.”

Todoroki wrinkled his nose. “He was drunk,” he said. “And he didn’t donate that much money anyway.”

To his relief, Midoriya cracked a grin. “Is that so? And you know that how?”

Todoroki frowned, and Midoriya’s grin grew sympathetic. “I know you hate this sort of thing,” he said. “I really appreciate you being here.”

There it was. The soft spot. Todoroki had never understood how Midoriya could cut through to it so quickly. “I wanted to be here,” he said, thinking again of the children surrounding Midoriya earlier that afternoon, and how happy they had looked. “It’s important to me,” he added quietly.

Midoriya’s hand was still on his arm. “I know it is.”

Todoroki looked down at the fingers curled on his sleeve. “I guess we’re not all cut out for charity work,” he said.

“It gets easier,” Midoriya told him. “The more you do.”

“You’re better built for it than I am.”

Midoriya laughed quietly. “I’m not so sure about that,” he said.

“You’re too modest,” Todoroki said. No sooner had the words left his lips than the memory of the calendar came crashing back to the forefront of his mind. He thought about the photo of Midoriya in his accessories, the very accessories he now wore over his costume. Todoroki forced his internal temperature to stay cool enough that the flush rising through his body wouldn’t reach his cheeks.

“...sometimes, anyway,” he mumbled.

Midoriya’s eyebrows drew quizzically low over his eyes. “What’s that mean?” he asked.

Todoroki quickly dragged his eyes away from Midoriya’s face. “We should mingle a bit more,” he said. “I’d like to get back to work soon.”

The hand on his arm finally released him. Todoroki resisted the temptation to sigh in relief.

“Alright,” Midoriya said. “But don’t antagonize any more donors, okay?”

“I’ll behave if they do,” Todoroki said.

“That’s the spirit.” Midoriya gave him a mock salute before turning away, back toward the main crowd of people.

As Todoroki watched him go, his eyes fell of their own accord. Absently, the thought occurred to him that Midoriya either needed to work out less or get another redesign of his jumpsuit. It had grown too tight again—particularly in a few places that made Todoroki’s blood run hot on his right side as well as his left.

He raised his gaze slowly and took in the scene—the tiny gourmet food, the generous amount of alcohol, and all those people in their too-expensive clothes patting themselves on the back. He wanted to go back to where the kids were. He wanted to go back to work. He wanted to leave.

Todoroki gritted his teeth and returned to the party.



After a couple more rounds of drinks and a few awkward moments, including one where a red-faced Midoriya was dragged into an arm-wrestling contest with a donor who was a retired wrestler, Todoroki decided he’d had enough. He watched Midoriya pretend to struggle against the larger man for a long moment before he slowly gained the upper hand. It seemed as though he’d never even needed to rely on his Quirk to win. The thought made Todoroki’s stomach flip over.

He slipped out as stealthily as he could, already berating himself for the reaction. He’d held it together so well, but the deliberate display of Midoriya’s physical strength had shattered his thin veneer—his mind was already careening down dangerous corridors, imagining the curl of a naked bicep, muscles flexing beneath freckled skin, the smooth ripple of shoulder blades and a furrowed spine between them. The thoughts persisted even along his commute back, and he had to fight hard against the temptation to pull out his phone and scroll through the photos.

He returned to the agency and headed straight for his office, stopping only briefly to get his messages from Hayanose before he retreated across the bullpen and closed the door behind himself.

It was already after seven, and Todoroki had come back to the office with every intention of changing out of his costume and going home. But his hands itched at his sides—he knew that if he went home, he'd just continue to sink deeper into his newfound well of depravity. He needed to get a grip, to keep himself busy. Todoroki crossed to his desk and turned on his police scanner. He sat down and picked up the files of an open case he'd been working on with the local station.

For a time he was able to lose himself in the work, letting the scanner fill in the background of his mind like white noise. Over an hour had passed before his concentration was broken by a knock against his door.

"Come in," Todoroki called, though he immediately regretted the invitation when the door opened and a familiar mop of curls poked in.

"Hey," Midoriya said, "do you have a minute?"

"Sure," Todoroki said, against his better judgement.

Midoriya came fully into the room. He was still in his hero costume from the event, and Todoroki wondered if he had any intention of going home either. He supposed it wasn't surprising—Midoriya was the only person who managed to be more of a workaholic than he was.

"Was something wrong earlier?"

Todoroki blinked. "What?" He realized Midoriya was wearing a contrite expression.

"You left so suddenly, and you seemed kinda off," Midoriya said. "I just wondered if something had upset you somehow."

Internally, Todoroki grimaced at himself. He thought he'd done a better job at maintaining his composure, but apparently not. "No," he said, "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? If something's bothering you, you can always talk to me about anything, you know that, right?"

He fought the urge to curse some higher power for bringing such a nosy busybody into his life, reminding himself just how much he owed that particular busybody, and just how important he was to him. "Yes," Todoroki said, "thank you, Midoriya."

Midoriya flashed him a small smile, just quick enough to make Todoroki's heart skip briefly off rhythm. "You plan on staying late?" Midoriya asked.

"I suppose."

"Don't forget to take care of yourself," Midoriya said. "It's important that you eat and sleep outside of work."

"Okay," Todoroki said. Why was Midoriya so concerned with his work habits all of a sudden, especially when he was just as guilty of overdoing things?

"Something bugging you about a case? Maybe I can help."

Todoroki tried to think of what to say that might make him leave. It was proving quite a challenge to push Midoriya out of his mind when he was standing right in front of him. "No, I'm fine," he repeated. "You don't have to stay."

"We could go grab some dinner or something," Midoriya suggested.

“No, that’s not necessary.”

"Or I could go pick something up? Bring it back here, and we can eat while we work."

Todoroki’s eyebrows knit together in his forehead. “Midoriya, why are you—”

The scanner crackled on the desk as a loud voice emanated from it, drawing their attention.

“—requested, repeat, immediate hero backup requested, three villains on-site, extremely hostile, approach with extreme caution—”

Their eyes met. Todoroki already knew what Midoriya was thinking, because he was thinking it as well.

“I’ll get the door,” Midoriya said.

It was lucky they were both still dressed.



“I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.”

Todoroki grimaced as he tried to locate the villain that was somewhere in front of him. The man’s Quirk involved short-distance teleportation, and Todoroki was having trouble keeping tabs on him, especially with Midoriya behind him as they stood back-to-back, close enough that their bodies brushed together. It was monumentally distracting.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said tightly.

“Sure sounds like something’s wrong.”

A flash of movement caught in Todoroki’s peripheral vision. He tried to turn, but he was too slow—at the last possible moment, Midoriya’s hand closed around his elbow and hauled him out of the way of an explosive wave of energy.

Midoriya swung him around until they were face to face. “Are you okay?”

Todoroki started to reply, but saw again the movement—he pushed Midoriya aside and let loose a blast of ice, trapping the villain against the exterior wall of the building. That was two down—the teleporter was the only one left.

Todoroki exhaled vapor before training an annoyed glare onto Midoriya. “What’s your problem?” he demanded. “Can’t we talk about this later?”

“Yeah—yeah, sorry. Good point.” Midoriya frowned. “It’s just—the thing is—”


“Right, right,” Midoriya said. “Okay.”

Todoroki turned his attention back to the surrounding area. He wasn’t quite sure how they’d subdue the remaining villain; Todoroki suspected the man would be able to teleport out of the clutches of his ice, and they were too close to residential buildings for him to use the full force of his fire.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“He’s fast,” Midoriya said. “I don’t think he can go much further than a few meters at a time, though. And it seems like he needs to see where he’s going.”

“Yeah,” Todoroki agreed. “Maybe we can box him in.”

The teleporter appeared briefly toward their right. Todoroki sent an arc of ice in that direction, but the man was gone again before it reached him.

“There’s a blind corner down that alley,” Midoriya said. “Could you lead him that way? We can trap him in the dead end.”

“Worth a try,” Todoroki returned.

“I’ll keep him phasing,” Midoriya said. “You be ready to start boxing him in.”

“Got it.”

“Alright, then.” Midoriya crouched low, then launched himself forward.

When the man phased in close to the buildings, Todoroki created a barrier of ice to keep him from escaping one direction, and then a wall of flame to keep him from retreating in another. Midoriya was on him every time he appeared, using his speed to keep the man moving, keep him ducking away until he ran into another of the obstacles that Todoroki threw in his direction.

Eventually, as they drew close to the mouth of the alleyway, the man looked around in alarm and seemed to realize where he was, but it wasn’t soon enough; Midoriya dove at him and the man phased a couple meters backward, just far enough between the buildings for them to move in close behind him. Todoroki closed the opening with a thick wall of ice, and then they were all trapped in together.

The man immediately disappeared, though Todoroki heard him knocking over trash cans as he teleported further into the dark recesses of the alleyway.

“Watch out,” Midoriya suggested as he stepped forward. “He might get desperate in close quarters.”

Todoroki nodded. He kept his hands up, ready to move in an instant.

The space between the building was tight, just barely wide enough for the two of them to walk close together comfortably. Todoroki realized he could (or imagined he could, anyway) feel the heat of Midoriya near his right side, could smell his sweat and the faint scent of ozone that hung around him when he activated his Quirk. It made a warmth curl in his stomach that threatened to distract him from the task at hand. His mind tried to lurch away down alternate paths of freckled skin and defined muscles, and Todoroki had to fight hard to pull himself back to the moment. He exhaled hard in frustration, a faint mist appearing in front of his face.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said darkly. Already he was thinking about the swell of Midoriya’s biceps and thighs in his jumpsuit. His eyes moved sidelong of their own volition.

With the brick of the buildings behind Midoriya, lights from the windows throwing his features into stark contrast, Todoroki had a flash of the picture of him in the black leather. He saw again the makeup highlighting Midoriya’s features, the peek of the nipple from his shirt.

“It suited you.”

Midoriya quirked his head. “What did?” he asked.

“The punk look,” Todoroki said. “With all the—“ He gestured vaguely at his face.

“What?” Midoriya asked again, now openly staring at him.

Abruptly Todoroki blinked, and the image of Midoriya in the photo was gone. They were standing together in the alleyway once more, Midoriya in simply his hero costume. He looked like all the blood had drained out of his face.

“Oh,” Todoroki said, as the slow horror of what he’d just said began to dawn on him.

“What’re you talking about,” Midoriya asked, though it didn’t sound much like a question. “Are you—did you—”

Todoroki tried to turn away. “We should concentrate on the villain,” he said.

“Are you saying you—you saw—”

“He’ll get away,” Todoroki said.

“For—for the calendar?”

What calendar? he wanted to ask. But that wouldn’t work. “Maybe,” Todoroki tried instead.

“Maybe?” Midoriya’s voice seemed to have gone up several octaves in pitch.

Todoroki sighed and turned back toward Midoriya. “Uraraka,” he said, “she—”

“Uraraka!” Midoriya blurted miserably.

“I have forms,” Todoroki continued. “She gave me. For you to sign.”

Midoriya kept looking at him in what appeared to be abject horror. “You saw it,” he said in a pitiful tone.

Todoroki nodded, his eyes slipping aside. “A little bit,” he said.

“How many?”


“How many did you see?”

“How many…?”

“Of the photos!” Midoriya demanded. “How many months did you see!”

“Ah. Well. ” Todoroki cleared his throat. “All of them? Maybe?”

“All of them!”

“Yeah.” He thought for a moment. “How many were there?”

“I can’t believe this,” Midoriya moaned. His hands flew to his face, dragging on the skin of his cheeks. “God, no wonder you’ve been acting so weird around me! I just thought you were upset because that guy at the party was hitting on you!”

“Hitting on me,” Todoroki echoed. “That backer? Was he?”

“And now it’s been this the whole time—you must think the absolute worst of me!” Midoriya continued. “I swear, it wasn’t my idea at all!”

“No, it’s—”

“I should’ve never agreed to it in the first place! Urakaka said it wouldn’t be a big deal, and now she’s suggesting I make an entire series—I don’t even know if I can handle this one being published, let alone more!”

Heat blossomed on the back of Todoroki’s neck. “The villain,” he said weakly.

Midoriya spun on the spot. “Do you see him?”


“Damnit!” Midoriya shouted. “This is the wor—”

His words cut off when the teleporter appeared beside him, his fist connecting immediately to Midoriya’s face.

“Deku!” Todoroki's hand closed briefly over the teleporter's collar, not quite fast enough to get a good grip on him.

Midoriya fell sideways in a partial arc before he planted his feet beneath him. He came up again with a speckle of blood on his lower lip.

"You okay?" Todoroki demanded.

A grim smile spread on Midoriya's face. His tongue swiped over his lip. "I'm fine," he said. “I think I needed that.” He widened his stance, hands clenching into fists in front of him as crackling energy spread along his limbs. His voice was low when he said, "I've had enough of this guy. Let’s finish this.”

Despite his embarrassment, the look in Midoriya’s eyes made something spark inside Todoroki's stomach. He shook away the feeling, turning aside as frost collected on his fingers. “It’s about time,” he said.

They stood back to back, watching for the teleporter to come within reach again. He was still trapped in the alleyway with them—unless the man attempted to phase through a wall into one of the surrounding buildings, it was only a matter of time before he reappeared close by.

“I’m really sorry,” Midoriya said.


“I’m focusing on my own embarrassment, but this must be awful for you too.”

Todoroki really wished they weren’t out in the open for this conversation. “For me?”

“Yeah.” Midoriya’s voice had lost its panicked quality. Now he simply sounded miserable. “I can’t apologize enough—I don’t know what Uraraka was thinking showing it to you—“

“She didn’t,” Todoroki admitted. “I just happened to find it.”

“God, that’s almost worse,” Midoriya returned. “I’m sure you never wanted to see something like that... I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t even want to look at me right now.”

Contrary to his claim, Todoroki desperately wanted to look at him, wanted to gauge his expression and find the way to reassure him. But he couldn’t, not with the villain still bouncing around them, not with the situation still unresolved. “Can we talk about this later?”

“I guess we’ll have to, won’t we?” Midoriya sighed heavily. “I just—I just hope you don’t think less of me, or—or that you’re disgusted by me or something.”

“That’s not it.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything else.”

“No, really—that’s not it.” Todoroki grimaced. “Midoriya, I—“

The villain briefly popped up again a short distance away. Todoroki shot a blast of ice his way, closing in the alleyway even more. “This guy is pissing me off,” he muttered. He needed to find some way to tell Midoriya that the calendar didn’t bother him—some way to explain it without giving everything away. But that was proving impossible with his attention divided between Midoriya’s palpable discomfort and the villain still loose around them.

“I just hope you can still consider me your friend,” Midoriya said quietly.

Todoroki cracked. He turned on the spot and grabbed Midoriya’s arm to swing him around. “Damnit, Midoriya!” he said, voice approaching a shout. “Would you listen to me? I’m telling you that’s not it!”

Midoriya stared up at him, eyes wide, mouth open.

“I’m not upset about the calendar!” Todoroki continued. “I don’t think less of you and I’m definitely not disgusted by you!”

“You’re not?”

Todoroki fought the desire to shake him. “No!” The words kept coming out; they came before he even had time to consider them. “If anything, I’m uncomfortable because I think too much of you, because when I first saw the calendar I couldn’t stop looking at it—and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since!”


Todoroki leaned away in shock. His hand was still around Midoriya’s arm; he released it as quickly as possible and took a step back.

Midoriya stayed in place. “What’re you saying?” he asked.


“You—are you saying that you liked the calendar? You liked those photos, the ones of me?”

Todoroki was frozen by a sudden wave of miserable shame. He couldn’t bring himself to lie. “Maybe. Yes. I’m sorry.” His eyes were locked to Midoriya’s face and the startled confusion emanating from his every feature.

“Uh…” came a voice to Todoroki’s left. He looked aside and found the teleporter standing beside him, glancing back and forth between them with eyes wide.

“Oh,” Todoroki said, but then Midoriya’s fist impacted on the man’s cheek. He went down hard and didn’t get up.

Midoriya crouched down. “Do you have the suppressor cuffs?” he asked. His voice was stiff.

“What? Oh. Yes. Hang on.”

Midoriya didn’t look at him as he restrained the man on the ground. He stood up. “I’ll get the other two,” he said. “You go tell the police that we’ve taken them all down.”

“Ah, but,” Todoroki started, but Midoriya was already moving away, heading for where Todoroki had frozen the second villain to a wall. He didn’t look back.

As Todoroki watched him go, a heavy misery sank in his stomach. It seemed a fitting end to his day, he thought darkly, before he turned to head in the direction of the police.



He skipped dinner that evening, but he hadn’t been hungry in the first place; a sick queasiness infused his stomach, one that had been there since his unintended admission earlier. Even now, hours later, the words kept coming back to him—and Midoriya’s face, the look of shock and disbelief and an undercurrent of something Todoroki couldn’t recognize, haunted behind his eyelids every time he closed his eyes.

He knew he should’ve never gone down the path he did when he found those photos, and yet here he still found himself: sitting alone in his office, absolutely miserable, afraid to even go home. All because he couldn’t control himself.

What an idiot he’d been.

It was almost eleven before he finally mustered the courage to begin packing up for the night. He’d already changed into his street clothes, so the rest of the routine was simple enough—files in his bag, shutting down his laptop, grabbing his coat off the hook on the wall and slipping his arms through the sleeves—but the feeling inside him was anything but. At length, his eyes fell onto the folder still sitting on top of his desk; the thought occurred to him that he still had to deliver the proofs and forms to Midoriya as he had promised. Maybe he’d just slip the folder underneath Midoriya’s door and be done with it.

Of course, if he truly wanted to be done with it, the photos on his phone would have to go too. Todoroki leaned against the side of his desk. Maybe that was the first step—maybe if he started with that, there would be some way to salvage his relationship with Midoriya.

He pulled out his phone.

He gave each photo one last glance before deleting them—but the arousal that had stirred at earlier viewings was now nonexistent; all that remained was a heaviness that dragged on his heart. The yukata went first, followed by the office, the bath, the gym, the near-nude featuring Midoriya’s accessories. One by one the photos disappeared from his phone—until he came to the picture of Midoriya in the apron, and here he paused.

It was less immediately enticing than some of the other photos, but Todoroki had still spent a long time gazing at it that morning before he took his shower and came into the office. Midoriya stood in a kitchen with the counter behind him, flour on his cheeks and in his hair. He wore a frilly yellow gingham apron and clearly nothing underneath. A large bowl was cradled in his arm, and his other hand curled around a wooden spoon thrust into the pale batter inside it.

Todoroki had entertained the brief fantasy of pushing Midoriya down over the counter, of pressing up against that lush backside and fucking him senseless. But afterward there had been a pang of sweetness, the thought a morning after, of waking up slowly and coming into the kitchen and finding Midoriya there. He wondered what the batter was for. Pancakes, perhaps? A cake? Todoroki knew it was probably nothing—probably glue and flour and food coloring. Something fake, a facsimile of domestication. Yet somehow, despite this knowledge, he couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to brush the flour off Midoriya’s cheeks, to kiss him sleepy and sweet, to curl his arms around him from behind, prop his chin on Midoriya’s shoulder, and watch him cook breakfast. It was this thought that made Todoroki’s eyes burn, his throat grow tight.

What an idiot he’d been.

He came to the girl’s uniform last, lingering on it a long time with his thumb hovering over the little delete icon. With a heavy sigh, he committed to the action, and then the photo was gone.

When everything was ready to go and his newly cleansed phone was back in his bag, Todoroki lifted the folder from his desk and turned toward his door. The main bullpen of the office had long since grown quiet, but he still cracked his door silently, peering out carefully into the empty room before opening it the rest of the way.

The half-lit office held the liminal quality that only belonged to public spaces after closing, like an empty school hallway or a shuttered shopping center. Where people once congregated, chattering and moving about, there was now nothing but empty memories of occupation—rinsed mugs in the sink of the kitchenette, papers forgotten on the copier, the air conditioner kicking on with a quiet rattle. It felt like the end of the world; it felt like Todoroki was the only one left.

He gripped the folder tightly. Better to get it over with. Better to just have it done and then go home and try to figure out what came after. It wasn’t in his nature to shy away from difficult things. He wasn’t about to start now.

Todoroki thought this to himself, steeling his resolve, even making it halfway across the room to Midoriya’s office before he noticed the bar of light visible in the gap beneath the door.

He stopped, pulling up short, folder still clasped in his hand. Was Midoriya still there, even that late? Surely he’d been tired from everything that had happened that day. Surely he’d gone home already. Maybe he’d just left the light on.

Todoroki stood there for a moment in the walkway between the cubicles, dumbly contemplating the possibilities until he saw the light dim as a shadow moved across it. His blood ran cold and hot together, the sick feeling in his stomach returning with a vengeance.

What was the better option? To slip the folder under Midoriya’s door and make a run for it? Or to step forward, to knock, to face Midoriya properly, apologize to his face, and move on from there? Todoroki crossed the rest of the way toward Midoriya’s office. He closed his eyes briefly and inhaled through his nose to center himself. Then he lifted his hand to knock.

The door opened before his knuckles connected. Todoroki pulled his hand back quickly before it impacted in the center of Midoriya’s forehead.

“Oh!” Midoriya said.

“Oh,” Todoroki returned.

Midoriya seemed to recover from the shock of seeing him beyond the door, but immediately his face flared red and his eyes darted aside. “Ah, um...hi. Todoroki.”

Todoroki lowered his hand. “Hi,” he said.

“Working late?”


“Yeah, uh. Me too.”

“I can see that.”

“Yes, of course.”

“I was just heading out.”


Silence fell over them like a lead blanket. Midoriya’s cheeks were still flushed. Todoroki fought the urge to fidget. He raised the hand holding the folder. “I thought I…should give this back to you,” he said carefully. When Midoriya didn’t say anything, Todoroki continued. “It has everything in it,” he said. “Uraraka left the forms in there for you to sign.”

Midoriya’s eyebrows slanted up in the middle, his mouth tightening together. Todoroki didn’t know exactly how to interpret that expression, but it didn’t seem to be a happy one.

“Midoriya.” Todoroki cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I never meant to make you uncomfortable.”

That seemed to finally break Midoriya out of whatever spell he was under. His eyes snapped back to Todoroki’s again. “Todoroki, you don’t have to—”

“No,” he said, “I crossed a line.” He shoved the folder at Midoriya again, and this time Midoriya lifted his hand and took it. Todoroki let it go with a sick combination of remorse and relief. “I don’t want you to think that I expect you to give me any sort of response,” he said. “You don’t have to say anything about it, and I’ll never mention it again.”


Todoroki dropped his empty hand and tightened it into a fist at his side. “I want you to understand that our friendship is very important to me,” he said. “And I promise I won’t do anything to jeopardize it in the future.”

Midoriya blinked for a moment, his eyes wide in his still-reddened face. Then, to Todoroki’s surprise, his expression relaxed. A small smile tugged at his mouth. His eyes dropped to the folder he now held in both hands.

“Todoroki,” he said, “I have a question for you. And I need you to answer honestly.”

“What’s that?”

Todoroki saw the material of the folder crease slightly as Midoriya’s fingers tightened around it. “Did you like the calendar photos?”

“I told you that I did.”

“And thought…” He took a breath. “You thought I looked attractive in them.”

Todoroki furrowed his brow. “I did,” he said carefully.

Midoriya nodded. “Okay,” he said. He met Todoroki’s gaze again and held it this time. “Then I have something to show you.” He stepped away from his door, back into his office. “Come in here for a moment.”

Todoroki hesitated outside the door briefly. By the time he stepped through, Midoriya was already crossing over to his desk. He drew open a drawer and placed the folder inside, then pulled out another, smaller one.

“Would you close the door?” Midoriya asked.

A silent alarm bell sounded inside Todoroki’s head at the request, but he obeyed all the same. He watched Midoriya carefully with increasing confusion as he stepped forward toward the desk.

The flush had spread to Midoriya’s ears. He came back around the desk, not stopping until he drew close to Todoroki. “H-here,” he said, and he shoved the smaller folder into Todoroki’s chest.

Todoroki caught it awkwardly. He examined Midoriya before pulling it away from his chest. Slowly, cautiously, he opened the folder.

A sharp gasp escaped his throat when he saw what the folder contained. His voice faltered before he managed to find it again. “What is this?”

Midoriya rubbed the back of his neck and glanced away. “I, um, when the photographer was here. I had him take another photo.”


“One that wouldn’t end up in the calendar. One I didn’t even show Uraraka.”

Todoroki’s hands flexed unconsciously as he tried to make sense of Midoriya’s explanation. “But...why?”

“Because…well, because this one…” Midoriya’s half-lidded eyes turned back toward him, glowing dark green under his eyelashes. “It was supposed to be just for you.”

Todoroki looked down at the folder again. It contained one photo, a smaller print than the calendar proofs. It appeared as though it had been taken in the same sitting as the first photo Todoroki had seen, the one with Midoriya’s accessories. He still wore them, and he still had nothing on underneath, but this time—this time there was no book in Midoriya’s hands. Instead, one empty hand rested on his hip, fingers resting over the jut of his hipbone, and the other curled around the back of his head as his bicep flexed next to his cheek. His chin was tucked in, face turned slightly away with his eyes closed; his lashes splayed dark across his cheekbones. His mouth curled in a soft smile—one candid, unposed, and perfect. Beneath the clasp of his belt, a dusting of dark hair grew thicker down the center of his lower abdomen until it met the dense patch at the apex of his thighs; below this, his naked cock hung flaccid and heavy between his legs.

Todoroki leaned against the desk as his legs grew weak. His brain churned. His stomach did the same. “For me,” he echoed carefully.

“Do you like it?” Midoriya’s voice was tentative, but there was a note to it that made Todoroki’s toes curl in his shoes.

Todoroki didn’t quite know what to say, so he said nothing. He slowly lifted his eyes, staring back at Midoriya’s expectant face with raised eyebrows.

Midoriya’s expression grew uncertain. “Is it okay?” he asked quietly.

Todoroki finally managed to loosen his tongue. “Why are you showing this to me?” he asked.

“You don’t understand?” Midoriya stepped around in front of him. “I—I wanted—” He paused, chewing on his lip for a moment before continuing. “I wanted you to see me like this.”

Slowly, the pieces began to fall in place. Todoroki put the photo down against the desk. “Midoriya,” he murmured.

“I thought that—well, I don’t know.”

“Midoriya,” Todoroki said again.

“If—if you even wanted to see me like this, of course, just to be clear, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything—“

“Midoriya,” Todoroki said a third time. He reached out and grabbed Midoriya’s hand. It was warm against his fingers, and he tightened them. “I like it,” he said.

Midoriya’s eyes grew wide. He opened his mouth as though to respond, but then appeared to change his mind. He pulled his hand free and put both against Todoroki's shoulders, then leaned forward before Todoroki was able to react and pressed his lips against the corner of his mouth. The contact didn't last very long; it ended before Todoroki managed to do much more besides drop his hands in shock to Midoriya's waist.

He was still registering what had happened when Midoriya pulled back. "Just to be clear," Midoriya repeated, "I think you're really hot, and I would really like to sleep with you."

"Oh," Todoroki said. His hands tightened around Midoriya's waist. "That...that would be fine."

Midoriya exhaled in relief. "Good, I'm glad," he said.

The ridiculousness of the conversation wasn't lost to Todoroki. He felt a small smile start to pull at his mouth. "I guess I shouldn't feel bad about the way I reacted to the photos, then," he said.

"Uh, well..." Midoriya laughed awkwardly. "Honestly, the only reason I agreed to that dumb calendar in the first place was because Uraraka told me you might enjoy it."

Todoroki's mind was starting to recover from the sort-of kiss, but that statement gave it another jolt. "She what?"

"She's been trying everything to get me to sign the release." Midoriya grinned and shook his head. "I wouldn't be surprised if she purposefully left the photos out where she knew you would see them, she's definitely devious enough to try and use you against me."

As shocking as the realization was that Uraraka knew about his crush, another more-pressing thought occurred to Todoroki. "Wait a minute," he said. "You agreed to do the calendar for me?”

“Well, not for you, not exactly, if it was just for you there were probably more efficient and less embarrassing ways to get your attention, well less publicly embarrassing, at least—”


"What I mean is—” He bit his lip and looked down at Todoroki's chest. "I guess, what I'm saying is, maybe a little piece of me hoped..." His eyes flicked up. "I hoped you would see it, and it would have an effect on you."

Todoroki stared at him. "An effect," he echoed.

Midoriya laughed awkwardly, his cheeks blazing. "You know—” he said. "You'd get—” He groaned out loud and covered his face with both hands. "Excited."

It took a long beat for Todoroki's brain to parse that sentence, as all the blood in his body seemed to have headed in the other direction. "What’re you saying?" he said. "Are you saying you wanted me to jerk off to the calendar?”

Midoriya made a high-pitched noise in his throat. "N-not in so many words!" he blurted. "But..." He slowly spread his fingers so he could peek at Todoroki between them. "Maybe," Midoriya said, "yes."

Todoroki was dumbfounded. Actually, dumbfounded didn't really cover his reaction. It was a dream; it had to be a dream. No way this was actually happening, that Midoriya had actually ambushed him like this, late at night in his office when everyone else was gone for the day. No way he was currently warm and solid in Todoroki's arms, admitting out loud that he had wanted Todoroki to masturbate over suggestive photos of himself.

"I see," Todoroki said stiffly.

"Don't worry," Midoriya said, "I don't expect that you--"

Todoroki moved quickly, lifting a hand to grab Midoriya's wrist before he could finish the sentence. He pulled Midoriya's hand away from his face, and leaned in close enough to smell the salt on his skin.

"I did," Todoroki murmured. "I did jerk off to it."

Midoriya let out a shuddering gasp. "You did?"

Todoroki nodded. "Three times," he said, then he thought for a moment and corrected himself. "No, four.”

Midoriya lowered his other hand, which trembled as he placed it against Todoroki's chest. His skin felt like a firebrand through the right side of Todoroki's shirt. "Four," he whispered shakily.

"Once to the yukata," Todoroki admitted, "once to the apron, and twice to the school uniform."

"A-ah," Midoriya breathed. The warm puff of his air passed over Todoroki's face. "You liked that one?" he asked.

"Very much," Todoroki said.

Midoriya shuddered again, his eyes slipping closed. "Tell me how much," he whispered.

Todoroki let go of his wrist and grabbed Midoriya's sides instead. He pulled him in tight. "I could show you," he suggested.

Midoriya's mouth was close—so close. Todoroki lifted one hand up and slid it around the back of his neck. "Midoriya," he murmured as he leaned forward.

Midoriya pulled back before their lips met. “Wait,” he murmured.

Todoroki froze momentarily, unsure if he had somehow overstepped, but Midoriya’s face was still soft and heavy-lidded, his lips relaxed and kissable. His hands played restlessly at Todoroki’s collar. “Just a second,” Midoriya continued. “I’ll be right back.” He slowly untangled himself from Todoroki’s arms and walked unsteadily toward the door before disappearing through it.

When he was gone, Todoroki sat at the edge of the desk overcome with a quiet shock. His limbs buzzed—arms tingling from his shoulders to his fingertips, legs like jelly beneath him. Was it real? Could it really be happening?

Todoroki turned slightly to pick up the photo again. It was still there, still real—Midoriya’s muscles gleaming, his freckles a perfect smattering of color against his skin. Todoroki’s eyes drew south, following the center line of his abdomen from his navel to his groin. When Todoroki looked again at Midoriya’s cock resting between his thighs, he felt his mouth water, his stomach tighten.

It was supposed to be just for you.

Had Midoriya been longing for him the same way he’d been longing for Midoriya? It didn’t quite seem like such a thing could be possible, but Todoroki still found himself there, hands twitching as they remembered curling around Midoriya’s trim waist.

The door opened again, and Todoroki’s head snapped up.

As Midoriya came back into the room, Todoroki could’ve sword his heart stopped for at least a full three seconds. The photo slipped from his limp fingers and fell back against the desk. Gone were Midoriya's typical civilian clothes, his t-shirt and loose cargo pants. Instead, he wore a uniform—the girl’s uniform from the calendar photo, with the short navy skirt and the pink scarf.

"Oh," Todoroki said.

Midoriya's cheeks almost matched the shade of the scarf. "T-this is the only one I still have," he said. "All the other costumes belonged to the photographer." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, except for the accessories to my hero costume. Those are still mine." He gave Todoroki a sheepish smile.

Todoroki's mind buzzed over the information. "You—you kept this one?" he asked.

Midoriya nodded. "I had to buy it myself...the costume they had didn't fit me."

"Didn't fit," Todoroki echoed. His mouth was dry. "Didn't fit how?"

"Um." Somehow, Midoriya's blush deepened. "It was—y'know. Too small. In the chest." He shrugged. "And the arms."

Todoroki's stomach dropped. He wordlessly held his arms up toward Midoriya, and Midoriya walked into them. Todoroki splayed his hands along Midoriya's back, revelling in the feel of the material between his fingers. "Where did you even get this?" he breathed as he pressed his face into Midoriya's neck. “And why is it at the office?”

"Ah, ha ha." Midoriya's breath caught as Todoroki’s lips found his skin. "I bought it online. I shoved it in the back of my locker after the shoot and haven’t been brave enough to touch it again.”

Todoroki let out a shuddering sigh. "You're trying to kill me, aren't you?" he murmured.

"No!" Midoriya returned. "I—" His words cut off with a hiss as Todoroki pulled him half into his lap, which caused his thigh to press against Todoroki's groin. Todoroki knew his reaction to the uniform was obvious.

"Oh," Midoriya breathed. He clutched Todoroki's shirt in both hands. "Todoroki...I..."

"Midoriya." Todoroki kissed gently at a freckle near the seam of Midoriya's neck and shoulder. "Can I—can I fuck you in this?"

"Oh fuck, yes," Midoriya gasped. "I—I've wanted you, for so long—I hoped that—" He pressed his leg forward, drawing a long groan out of Todoroki. "Please, please, I just—"

"God," Todoroki said. "You have to stop talking—or I might—" He clenched his jaw and twisted his fingers in the fabric against Midoriya's smooth back. In lieu of finishing the sentence, Todoroki tightened his legs and ground his painfully hard erection against Midoriya's thigh. He hoped the meaning would come across.

Midoriya trembled. "Todoroki," he whispered.

Todoroki slid one hand down Midoriya's back, over the waistband of his skirt and further, until he could slip his fingers under the hem. He thought he might faint when he realized Midoriya wasn’t wearing any underwear. He ran a fingertip over the crease where Midoriya's thigh met the underside of his buttock. "Have you ever...?"

"Not with someone else," Midoriya said. "Not like that. But—" He laughed breathlessly. "I have—um. Things."


"Yeah, uh." His hands played restlessly over the collar of Todoroki's shirt. "Toys," Midoriya clarified. "That I use by myself."

"Holy shit," Todoroki said.

Midoriya laughed awkwardly again. "Yeah, so, don't—don't worry. I'll be okay."

"I'm not sure I will be," Todoroki said. He squeezed his legs around Midoriya's thigh again.

"Hmmm." Midoriya pulled back enough to look Todoroki in the eye. His face was bright red, but his eyes glittered with determination. "I'll make you a deal," he said. "You take care of me, and I'll take care of you. Okay?"

Todoroki couldn't stand it any longer. He grabbed the back of Midoriya's neck and pulled him forward to seal their mouths together.

Kissing Midoriya felt like a hundred fireworks going off in his head. As Midoriya's lips parted and his tongue pressed forward, Todoroki was thankful to be leaning against his desk—he would've fallen over if not. He slipped both hands up the back of Midoriya's skirt. The muscle was firm under his palms, the skin hot against his own.

Midoriya gasped against Todoroki's lips. He shifted forward until he was straddling Todoroki's leg. "Hng," he grunted, "Todoroki, please, touch me."

Todoroki nodded wordlessly. He pulled his right hand around Midoriya's hip toward the obvious tent beneath his skirt. When his fingers encountered hard flesh, Midoriya shook against him and gasped again. Todoroki wrapped his hand loosely around Midoriya's cock still hidden beneath the skirt, and Midoriya rocked up into Todoroki's touch. "Oh," he murmured, "oh yes." He kissed Todoroki again, muffling sobs of pleasure into his mouth as he continued rolling his hips, fucking into Todoroki's hand.

Todoroki did his best to kiss back, though holding onto Midoriya was a task in itself as he writhed in his arms. “Wait,” Todoroki mumbled, “hold on, not so fast.”

Midoriya whined out loud, but his hips slowed to a stop. “S-sorry,” he gasped. “I’m just—it’s been a long time—” He whimpered and lowered his head to press his face against Todoroki’s neck, slumping down against him. “I feel like I’m gonna explode,” he said.

A shiver passed through Todoroki’s body. “Me too,” he whispered. He tightened his arm around Midoriya. “Do you—” He swallowed hard. “Do you have anything? I—I don’t, not here at the office—”

“In the bottom drawer on the left,” Midoriya mumbled into his skin, the warm puff of his breath causing Todoroki to shiver again. “Under my old business cards.”

“Your left or my left?”

“The left side of the desk—Shouto, please hurry.”

Todoroki closed his eyes, his heart clenching at the use of his name. When he opened them again, he felt weak. “Hang on,” he said.

He was loathe to let go of Midoriya—a sentiment that seemed to be mutual, if the way that Midoriya’s fingers tightened in his shirt as Todoroki tried to push him away was any indication.

“Do you want me to get to the drawers or not?”

“Oh, stop being smarmy,” Midoriya said. He took a step back without letting go of Todoroki’s shirt, then tugged Todoroki upright off the desk and kept pulling until they were flush together again. Todoroki’s arms went back around Midoriya’s waist. “Come on, then.”

Todoroki did his best to ignore his body’s reaction in favor of this new mission, though he couldn’t stop himself from kissing Midoriya again.

Somehow they fumbled together around side of the desk. Todoroki kicked the chair out of the way a little too aggressively and knocked himself slightly off-balance; Midoriya took this advantage to push him back against the desk and straddle his thigh once more. He tucked his head and closed his lips over the side of Todoroki’s neck.

Todoroki fought the shudder that moved through him. He leaned over as far as he could without dislodging Midoriya, then grabbed the handle of the bottom drawer and pulled hard; the old wood stuck a bit and slid unevenly, but he managed to open it enough to wedge a hand inside. Todoroki dug around blindly for a moment, finally giving up with a noise of frustration before he began to drag out handfuls of Midoriya’s business cards, an obsolete design he hadn’t used in over a year.

“Why do you still have these?” he asked, his voice a mix of incredulity and frustration.

Midoriya winced and laughed. He lifted his face from Todoroki’s throat. “I had so many left over—I felt bad just getting rid of them. It seemed like a waste.”

Todoroki shook his head. “You’re so sentimental,” he said, though it wasn’t really an admonishment.

“Are you surprised?”

A warmth that had nothing to do with his arousal flowed into Todoroki’s chest. He smiled. “Not really,” he admitted.

Midoriya grinned back, wobbly and wonderful. Suddenly all Todoroki could do was lean forward and kiss him with tenderness. His search was forgotten for a long moment until Midoriya shifted against him once more, causing them both to break off with a gasp.

Todoroki pressed his forehead against Midoriya’s and looked downward to where their bodies pressed together. Their movements had caused Midoriya’s skirt to ride up, and the head of his cock peeked from beneath the hem where it rested against Todoroki’s thigh. It had left a tiny wet spot on the fabric of Todoroki’s slacks.

Todoroki exhaled hard. “Do you know what you do to me?”

Midoriya’s hands tightened on his arms. “You said you would show me,” he whispered.

“Yes,” Todoroki said, “I did.” He bent to reach into the drawer once more, this time encouraged on by the way Midoriya rocked on his thigh and let out a high breathy moan into the skin of his throat.

Todoroki’s hand finally closed around a small square box, which he extracted from the drawer to examine over Midoriya’s shoulder. It was condoms, an unopened three-pack. A quick check of the expiration told him they were fairly new.

“Why do you even have these here?”

“I have an overactive fantasy life,” Midoriya said. “And I am unreasonably optimistic.”

Todoroki bit back a smile before another thought occurred to him. “It’s just condoms. Is there any lubricant?”

“They’re lubricated.”

“Is that enough?”

“It should be for now. Here.” Midoriya pulled back and took the box from him. He pulled out one foil packet, then tore it open and extracted the condom. “Give me your hand,” he said.

Dumbfounded, Todoroki lifted his hand. He was silent as Midoriya took it gently in his own and rolled the condom down over his index and middle fingers.

“Okay,” Midoriya said, looking over his handiwork. “That should do.”

“Should do for what?”

“Um. What do you think?”

Heat blossomed under Todoroki’s skin. The left side of his face literally steamed. “Oh,” he said.

Midoriya looked about ready to combust himself. He leaned forward again and pressed his face into Todoroki’s shoulder. “Touch me, Shouto,” he whispered.

Todoroki exhaled through his nose. He slid his free hand under Midoriya’s skirt and brushed his fingers over the cock pressing hard into his thigh. “You want me to?”

Midoriya let out a pained laugh. “Please,” he begged.

Todoroki nodded. He wrapped his fingers around Midoriya’s cock and gave him a light stroke as his other hand quested around the swell of his ass, searching for the ring of muscle.

Midoriya shuddered as Todoroki’s fingers found their destination. His hips shifted unpredictably as he alternately thrust forward into Todoroki’s hand and arched backward against his fingers. Midoriya’s breath blew across Todoroki’s throat, followed by the wet heat of his tongue.

Todoroki closed his eyes and attempted to keep his breathing under control—a task easier said than done, between Midoriya’s mouth working over his skin, the heavy weight of his cock in Todoroki’s hand, and the sensation of his asshole tightening against Todoroki’s fingertips, the heat of him evident even through the condom. Todoroki circled his fingers over the puckered flesh, felt Midoriya clench and release as he pushed back against his hand again.

“Nnh,” Midoriya groaned into his neck. “C’mon, please. I can take it.” He lifted his chin, lips brushing over the line of Todoroki’s jaw. When Todoroki tilted his head to allow him better access, Midoriya surged forward and bit the lower lobe of his ear.

Todoroki jumped at the twinge of pain. Midoriya huffed against his skin, almost laughing, then closed his lips over the injured flesh and used his tongue to soothe the sting.

“I see,” Todoroki said stiffly. “That’s how it is, huh?”

Midoriya pulled back and looked at him. “Did—was that okay? I didn’t think—oh! ” He let out a startled exhalation when Todoroki grabbed him, twisting quickly before he could react, and bent Midoriya face down over the desk. The items on the desktop scattered wildly—a cup of pens and pencils went flying, a stack of papers fanned out underneath Midoriya’s hands. The folder with the photo fell off the edge onto the floor.

Todoroki pressed down hard, pinning Midoriya against the surface with the weight of his body. He clamped a hand over the back of Midoriya’s neck and bent low until his lips brushed against Midoriya’s ear. “I understand now,” he breathed.

“Shouto—” Midoriya cut off with a moan as Todoroki wedged his erection into the cleft of his ass and rocked hard against him. “Oh—Shouto—please—” He whined as Todoroki pulled back, but then sucked in a sharp breath when Shouto’s latex-clad fingers found his asshole again, this time forgoing caution to push both inside up to the first joint.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Todoroki murmured. “Is this okay?” He shifted his fingers slightly, and Midoriya shook beneath him on the desk.

Yes, yes, keep going, come on!”

“I don’t want to hurt you…”

“You won’t, you won’t, I promise,” Midoriya insisted. His voice cracked with desperation, which went right to Todoroki’s stomach. Todoroki bit his lip and pushed his fingers in deeper, until they were about halfway in. Then he pulled them all the way out and pushed them in again.

Midoriya unraveled beneath him. His hands scrabbled for purchase against his desk, shoulders heaving as he gasped for breath. When Todoroki pulled his fingers out and thrust them in once more, Midoriya moaned out loud, his entire body shuddering. He shifted his legs apart until his thighs separated and arched his back to push his ass up.

The scene of Midoriya splayed out beneath him, skirt bunched up around his hips and his ass displayed so wantonly, was almost more than Todoroki could bear. “Holy shit,” he murmured. “You—I can’t believe you’re like this…”

Somehow, Midoriya managed to laugh at that. He turned his head to rest his cheek against the desktop and looked up at Todoroki sideways. “Why?” he asked. “Because I’m a paragon of virtue or something?”

“Because you accidentally microwaved aluminum foil the other day.”

“H-hey.” Midoriya’s voice wavered as Todoroki shifted his hand again. “Being able to use a microwave properly is not a prerequisite for—for—“

“For?” Todoroki prompted. He began moving his fingers in earnest, pumping into Midoriya’s body as he continued to relax and yield to the intrusion.

“For...for...ah, f-fuck, Shouto…”

Todoroki’s mouth twisted into a smile. “I’m getting there,” he promised, before easing in his fingers all the way to the knuckles.

“Ah—ah!” Midoriya’s hips lurched backward, grinding down on Todoroki’s hand. “You’re—you’re one to talk,” he grit out between clenched teeth. “You’re the one who jacked off to my pictures.”

“You’re the one who had the pictures made.”

“For charity,” Midoriya gasped.

“Of course,” Todoroki said. He hooked his fingers downward toward Midoriya’s navel and fucked him deliberately. “For charity.” He watched the visible side of Midoriya’s face contort, eyes winching shut as his mouth opened in a silent cry of pleasure. “I still can’t believe you made them at all,” Todoroki said.

“It was Uraraka’s idea.”

“I’ll have to remember thank her later.”

“Later,” Midoriya agreed. “Now—please, now, just stop talking and hurry up.”

Midoriya’s hips shifted, and Todoroki realized he was rubbing himself against the unyielding desktop. Todoroki’s stomach clenched as a spike of heat prickled down his spine, igniting an ache in his perineum that grew almost unbearable. His neglected erection made itself known with a vengeance, straining impossibly hard against the inside of his slacks. “Midoriya,” he murmured.

Midoriya nodded in response, and Todoroki let go of his neck. He brought his other hand to Midoriya’s ass, then slowly pushed another finger into the condom beside the other two. He exhaled shakily at the way Midoriya’s body opened for him. “God,” he whispered. “You’re amazing.”

Midoriya laughed again, weak and thready. “I told you I would be okay,” he said.

“So you did,” Todoroki returned. He pulled his third finger back out again and Midoriya shuddered at the sensation. “Do you think you’re—are you ready to—”

Yes,” Midoriya insisted.

Todoroki’s breath came out in a misty white huff. “Okay,” he said. “Hold on.” He abruptly realized was still wearing all of his clothes, even his outer jacket that he’d donned when he thought he was on his way out of the office.

He slipped his fingers out of Midoriya, taking a moment to appreciate the noises that escaped him as he did so, then inverted the condom and tossed it aside. After that he finally shucked off his jacket and undid the top few buttons on his shirt to slip it over his head.

Midoriya moved out of the corner of his eye, and Todoroki realized he was reaching for the open bottom drawer. Thankfully, his search was more immediately fruitful than Todoroki’s had been; he came up almost at once with a small bottle of lubricant in hand.

He braced himself against the desk with his back toward Todoroki, reaching behind him to hand over the bottle. Todoroki noted the way his ears and the back of his neck blasted red, the way his arm trembled. He took the lubricant out of his hand and stepped forward to press against him once more.

“Midoriya,” he murmured, lips soft against his skin. Todoroki blew a cold burst of air on the back of Midoriya’s hot neck, which caused him to gasp and shiver in return. A hand in the center of Midoriya’s back eased him down over the desk once more, and Todoroki used his other to lift his skirt up over his hips. Midoriya’s corded thighs shook with anticipation as he widened his stance and shifted his legs apart. He buried his face in the crook of his arm against the desk.

Midoriya reached back with his other hand, then grabbed one buttock and pulled, spreading himself open. “Fuck me, Shouto,” he murmured, his voice muffled against his arm.

“Oh god, yes,” Todoroki returned, already strained to bursting. He fumbled desperately with the fastenings on his slacks for an embarrassingly long moment. When he finally managed to open them, he pushed down the front of his underwear to free his aching erection; it sprung up at attention, begging to be touched.

Two condoms remained in the box. In his haste, Todoroki tore too aggressively into the first one and damaged it. “Shit!” he hissed out loud. He opened the second one more carefully and put a few drops of lubricant in the tip before rolling it over his cock. In his limited experience, he wasn’t exactly sure how much lubricant was really needed—he settled for spilling a generous line along the length of his shaft and set the bottle down within reach.

Todoroki gave himself a couple of strokes before he grabbed Midoriya’s hip and moved in as closely as possible. He felt Midoriya shift underneath him as he lined the head of his cock up against his asshole. He held his breath and pushed.

“Oh—” Midoriya gasped, increasing in pitch and volume as Todoroki continued inward. “Oh, oh, oh.”

The tight heat that enveloped Todoroki’s cock was almost maddening—Todoroki had to grab the base of his shaft and clench his jaw in order to keep from coming immediately. After a long, shuddering moment he caught his breath and began to push again.

“Oh god!” Midoriya sobbed. His fingernails scratched uselessly over the laminate surface of his desk.

“Are you okay?” Todoroki asked tightly.

Midoriya nodded wordlessly in response.

“Tell me if I—” The rest of Todoroki’s sentence cut off in a startled moan when Midoriya moved quickly backward, impaling himself the rest of the way onto Todoroki’s cock. Todoroki couldn’t help the thready gasp that escaped his throat when Midoriya shifted and ground down against him. His hands flew to Midoriya’s hips, holding him in place. “Wait—” he said, “just a second—”

Midoriya let out a plaintive noise, but he braced his forearms against the desk and nodded all the same. He rested his forehead on his fisted hands and was quiet.

Todoroki closed his eyes. He inhaled slowly through his nose for a count of five, and exhaled through his mouth the same way. He made a concerted effort to reign in the tumult inside him and was met with a small amount of success. When he was finally certain he wouldn’t explode, he opened his eyes and took in Midoriya beneath him.

The skirt was still hiked up around his hips. When he had leaned down over the desk, the back of his top had slipped toward his shoulder blades, exposing the groove of his spine above his waistband. Todoroki lifted his hand and smoothed it over Midoriya’s back, feeling every ridged scar and the soft skin between. His muscles were taut, sharp with the promise of potential energy, like a stone at the top of a hill waiting to be nudged into motion, like the bow of a violin desperate to be played.

“Izuku,” he breathed.

Midoriya’s voice cracked as he replied. “Yeah?”

“I’m going to move.”

Please,” Midoriya whispered.

Todoroki nodded even though he knew Midoriya wouldn’t see. He bit his lip and tightened his grip to hold Midoriya in place. Then he pulled his hips back, shuddering at the sensation of his cock sliding free, and thrust into Midoriya’s body as hard as he dared.

Midoriya’s breath came out in a loud moan as Todoroki hit home. As he pulled out again, Todoroki lifted one hand to grab a fistful of Midoriya's skirt, and then drove into him once more. After a few more uneven thrusts, he managed to find a rhythm that he could maintain. For his part, Midoriya pushed backward against him as much as he pressed forward; soon Todoroki was pulling Midoriya back by the grip on his skirt, driving hard into his yielding body.

Midoriya had been noisy when Todoroki started fucking him, but now his mouth opened wordlessly, the relentless pace rendering him silent save for a few choked gasps. He bent over the desk, head bowed over his arms as his body jolted with the force of Todoroki's thrusts.

Todoroki had the sudden overwhelming desire to see his face. He stilled his hips and wrapped an arm under Midoriya's stomach, pulling him up and away from the desk until his back pressed against Todoroki's chest. He slid his hand up over Midoriya's front, over the scarf tied at his chest and up along his throat, until he could grab his jaw and turn his head to look at his face.

Midoriya's eyes watered, his eyelids fluttering. His mouth was open and pink inside; Todoroki couldn't stop himself as he pulled Midoriya back, contorting his body in such a way that must have been uncomfortable, but Midoriya didn't complain. He only moaned desperately as Todoroki kissed him, the sound muffled around Todoroki's tongue. At that angle Todoroki couldn't fuck him as easily, but he shifted his hips to grind into him as best he could. He slipped his free hand under the front of Midoriya's skirt to wrap his fingers around his cock.

Midoriya gasped into Todoroki's mouth at the contact; he thrust forward into Todoroki's hand, then back again onto his cock. His arm lifted, and he wrapped his hand around the back of Todoroki's head, kissing him mercilessly, sloppy and open-mouthed. He braced his weight on the desk with his other hand, arching his back to push himself against Todoroki’s body.

After a long blissful interval, Midoriya pulled his mouth away from Todoroki’s and mumbled against his lips, “I want to try something.”

“Uh?” Todoroki returned eloquently, then he choked as Midoriya tightened down around him.

“Go—go sit in the chair,” Midoriya suggested. “I want to get on top of you.”

Todoroki’s brain barely registered the request; he had only enough sense to obey, if not understand. He relaxed his stance and pulled himself free of Midoriya’s body, shuddering at the sensation and loss of heat. A quick survey found the chair cast a few paces to the side; Todoroki crossed over to it on unsteady legs and sat down heavily.

Midoriya was on him again in a moment. He grabbed Todoroki’s underwear and slacks together and dragged them roughly down over his knees. Then he climbed onto his lap and straddled his legs, skirt spilling over Todoroki’s hips as he settled down. Midoriya shifted up onto his knees, took hold of Todoroki’s cock on one hand, and slowly lowered himself onto it.

Todoroki’s hands flew to Midoriya’s hips as the overwhelming tightness enveloped him again. He flexed the muscles of his thighs, angling his pelvis upward until Midoriya hit home and their bodies fit snugly together.

Midoriya laughed breathlessly. Todoroki looked up at his face and saw his damp eyes sparkling, his perfect mouth curled in a smile. His hands slid over Todoroki’s shoulders down to his chest.

“You feel so good,” Midoriya murmured. “You’re so hard. It’s ridiculous.”

Todoroki managed an unsteady smile despite the continued unraveling of his composure. “You’re the ridiculous one,” he said. “I’m pretty certain that this is all some weird fever dream, because there’s no way this is actually happening.”

Midoriya curled a hand around the back of his neck. Todoroki leaned his head to the side to allow him access as Midoriya’s lips coasted over the pulse point beneath his skin. “Would you dream something like this?” He shifted his hips, grinding down slowly in Todoroki’s lap.

Todoroki swallowed hard and nodded. “I would,” he said, “I did.”

Midoriya’s breath stuttered across his throat. “You did?” he murmured.

“Oh yes,” Todoroki returned. He slid a hand up the front of Midoriya’s top, feeling the solid weight of Midoriya’s pec filling his hand, the hard pebble of his nipple as it brushed against his palm. “Many times.”

Midoriya leaned back to look at him again. “Shouto,” he breathed.

Todoroki lifted his hand to Midoriya’s cheek and brushed his thumb over the freckles. His other arm wound its way around Midoriya’s waist to tug him closer. The sensation of their bodies shifting together caused him to close his eyes and sigh aloud.

“I’m not going to last much longer,” Todoroki admitted.

Midoriya sighed pleasantly and leaned forward to press a kiss against Todoroki’s chin. “Me either,” he said. He braced both hands against the arms of the chair, then rocked his hips back and forward again.

In that position, Todoroki found it wonderfully easy to tangle his fingers in Midoriya’s hair and align their lips together. With Midoriya moving against him, their mouths missed more than connected properly, but in some ways that was better—the catch of a full lower lip between his teeth, Midoriya's pretty pink tongue chasing his own as they separated and came together again. Todoroki's awareness shrank to a handful of sensations, the fabric of the skirt twisted in his hand, the shift of hard thighs on top of his own, the tickle of fine hair where their skin touched, the wet slide of lips, a hot mouth questing to find his—and Midoriya's body, Midoriya's tight grip on him, the drag of muscle around his cock, drawing every sound and sensation from him until there was nothing left but that moment, that feeling, the points of contact between them and a sharp twinge inside Todoroki's heart.

As he lurched closer toward abandon, Todoroki's resolve shattered entirely. He grabbed desperately at Midoriya's hips, planted his feet against the floor, and thrust up hard; Midoriya gasped out loud, his back arching, hands gripping the chair to hold himself in place as Todoroki drove into him over and over.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Midoriya's head tipped back, his chin pointing toward the ceiling, body leaning away from Todoroki's chest to improve the angle—and Todoroki kept going, kept thrusting up into that heat, kept up the pace even when his thighs began to burn and his back began to sweat. "Oh, god," Midoriya moaned, "that's it, there, please—more, don't stop—don't—"

"Fuck!" Todoroki hissed through clenched teeth. He wanted to keep watching Midoriya unravel in his lap, but the white-hot pleasure in his perineum grew to an unbearable crescendo—all he could do was close his eyes and keep snapping his hips up, holding his breath until stars bloomed behind his eyelids.

He felt Midoriya begin to come before he saw it, felt the ripple of muscle clench down on his cock, the way Midoriya's breath caught and then came sobbing out from his chest all at once. Todoroki wrapped his arms around Midoriya's ribs and dragged him down into a tight hug as his cock spilled hot between them. After a moment, Midoriya's trembling arms curled around Todoroki's shoulders, rough fingers finding purchase in his hair; at that point, Todoroki buried his face against Midoriya's shoulder, pulled him in with an arm around his waist as tightly as possible, and ground his pelvis upward until the stars in his eyes overflowed and burst.

Afterward they held each other, bodies shuddering together in lingering ghosts of pleasure until they grew still. Todoroki eventually found his breath enough to loosen the tight vise of his arms around Midoriya's waist. He slid one shaking hand up Midoriya's back, under his top—

And promptly pulled a face.

"You're...really sweaty..."

"Give me a break," Midoriya returned, voice weak against the skin of Todoroki's throat. "This costume is like ninety-eight percent polyester. And anyway, you're not any better, you know."

"Well, I have a very heavy person wearing polyester on me," Todoroki said.

Midoriya laughed at that. He shifted against him as though he were trying to get up; Todoroki quickly wrapped his arms around his waist again and pulled him back down. "Hey!" Midoriya protested, before Todoroki kissed him. At the contact, Midoriya sighed into his mouth and melted down on top of him.

When they parted again, Midoriya winced and leaned back. "I really am very hot," he said, his tone apologetic.

Todoroki nodded and finally released him. Midoriya slid down his thighs—exhaling shakily as Todoroki's cock came free from his body—and climbed off the chair.

Todoroki’s body responded sluggishly as he sat up in the desk chair; the sweaty backs of his thighs slid against the leather. He grimaced down at himself, then pulled off the condom and knotted the end. As he looked up, he noticed Midoriya pulling the uniform top off over his head. Todoroki froze, gawking at the expanse of muscle suddenly visible to him.

Midoriya tossed the top aside and went next for the waistband of the skirt. He pushed it down over his hips, down his thighs until it slipped to his calves of its own weight. He kicked it off his ankle, and then he was standing there, gloriously naked, in the middle of his office.

Todoroki quickly realized that, aside from the photos, this was the very first time he’d seen Midoriya in quite that way—his broad chest lined with sweat, an uneven streak of come shining against his leg, his flagging cock heavy between his thighs.

Midoriya caught him staring. “What?” he asked.

“You…” Todoroki swallowed. “You’re very...naked.”

Midoriya blinked and looked down at himself, then seemed to realize what he had just done. “Oh no,” he said, “I wasn’t even thinking—I can’t believe this is the way I undressed for you—“

“I’ve seen you undress before, you know…”

“Not like this!” Midoriya insisted. A look of horror crossed his face, and his hands flew to his cheeks. “Oh my god, and we—we just—“ His covered his eyes. “I can’t believe this—our first time happened like that—I don’t know what came over me, this isn’t what I planned at all!”

“You planned it?” Todoroki asked.

Midoriya nodded and made a miserable noise. “And I’ve made a total mess of it now!”

Todoroki considered this. “I mean, we did make a mess,” he agreed. The splatter of come on his stomach and the used condom in his hands were enough to make him wrinkle his nose in disgust. “But,” he added, “as far as the the sex is concerned, I feel pretty good about it.”

Midoriya peeked at him between his fingers. “Really?” he asked carefully.

“I thought that should’ve been obvious.”

The hands came away from Midoriya’s face. “Ah,” he said. “Yes. Maybe…” A smile began to creep across his expression. “It…it was really good,” he said.

“What had you planned?” Todoroki asked.

“Oh, just…” Midoriya shrugged. Todoroki’s eyes followed the play of muscles in his chest as his shoulders lifted and fell again. “Pretty normal stuff, really. I meant to invite you to dinner and take things slow so you wouldn’t feel pressured, I didn’t want you to think it was all about the sex for me.” His eyes widened. “N-not that there’s anything wrong with sex, of course!” he insisted. “I mean, if that’s all you’re interested in, that’s fine! I don’t mean to imply that—“

“Izuku,” Todoroki said.

Midoriya startled and fell silent at the use of his given name. Todoroki wasn’t quite sure how he could look so demure and debauched at the same time.

He was determined to investigate the contradiction in far more detail. “I think,” he said, “that dinner sounds like a great idea.”

“You do?”

Todoroki nodded. “And then maybe you can tell me a little more about what you had planned for after.”

“Ah, ha ha…” Midoriya scratched his cheek. “Well, if you like…” His eyes roamed over Todoroki in the chair. “You know, Shouto, right now…you look really—”

“Really ridiculous,” Todoroki finished. He was naked save for the slacks bunched awkwardly around his ankles, and he still wore his shoes.

“I was gonna say ‘really incredible’, actually,” Midoriya admitted.

Todoroki looked down at himself. He could already feel the lube smeared across his lap drying against his skin. Sweat adhered his back to the chair. “I think I need a shower before dinner is an option,” he said.

“Yeah,” Midoriya said. “Me too, probably…” He glanced back to Todoroki’s face. “There’s no one else in the office, right?”

“No, I looked before I came in, it’s just us.”

“Why don’t we go clean up in the locker room?”

Todoroki opened his mouth to reply, but the photo of Midoriya fresh from the bath lurched into the forefront of his mind, and his words faltered. He cleared his throat. “Maybe I could wash your back,” he suggested.

Midoriya bit his lip and grinned. “I could agree to that,” he said.

A returning smile grew on Todoroki’s face for a moment before it dropped again. He thought mournfully of the ruined condom. “We can’t do much more than that right now, I guess.”

Midoriya’s grin didn’t waver. “I probably need a little time anyway,” he admitted, “but there may be something else we can try instead.”

“More of your plans?”

“Something like that.”

At the look Midoriya gave him, a spark reignited somewhere below Todoroki’s navel; his spent cock gave a weak twitch of protest against his thigh. “I think I’m okay with that idea,” he said.



It started with the calendar, so it seemed only fitting that the calendar be allowed to come to fruition. When Todoroki handed the forms to Uraraka the next day, she smirked at him with a knowing glint in her eye.

“I knew I could count on you,” she said.

Todoroki made a quick mental note to never get on her bad side.

In the weeks that followed that night in the office, Todoroki learned that Midoriya was actually greatly interested in all the fantasies he’d concocted around the calendar photos—and, to his further surprise, he discovered that Midoriya had a few fantasies of his own.

“Almost done!” Midoriya said brightly.

“I feel stupid,” Todoroki returned from where he sat at the table in Midoriya’s apartment.

“Believe me, you look incredible,” Midoriya assured him. “Now close your eyes.”

Todoroki wanted to glare at him, but he obeyed all the same. He felt the tug against his eyelashes, the foreign sensation of an unfamiliar weight against his eyelids.

“Okay, open?”

When he obeyed again, Midoriya’s cheeks increased their flush. “Wow,” he said.


“Your eyelashes are usually pretty light, so this really makes your eyes look different.”

“Good different or bad different?”

“Good—very good.” Midoriya grinned at him. “Nothing wrong with your eyes before, of course.”

Todoroki fought back the urge to snort. “Nice save,” he said. “How’d you even learn to do this, anyway?”

“You’ve never watched a makeup tutorial?” Midoriya returned. He pushed the wand back into the tube of mascara and twisted it closed. “Now stop talking, time to do your lips.” He brandished a tube of dark pink.

“Where did you get that?” Todoroki asked.

“From the store.”

“Which store.”

“Shouto, just open your mouth, alright?” His hand gripped Todoroki’s chin, his callused fingertips scratching against his skin. “Not so much, just like, relax your jaw. Yes, perfect.”

The tube tugged slightly against Todoroki’s lips as Midoriya gently applied the lipstick. Todoroki kept his eyes open, watching Midoriya closely as he worked—his eyes intent, the tip of his tongue poking out in concentration. After a moment, he pulled back to survey his handiwork.

“Well?” Todoroki prompted.

Midoriya inhaled sharply. “Open your mouth again.”

Todoroki did so, thinking there was some other step to be completed, but Midoriya just leaned forward to push his thumb into Todoroki’s mouth, pressing down hard against his tongue. He moved in close enough to whisper against Todoroki’s ear.

“You look so good,” Midoriya murmured, “I just want to mess it all up right away.”

Todoroki managed to laugh around Midoriya’s thumb. When Midoriya pulled away again, he said, “So soon?”

“Well, it’s kind of the point,” Midoriya admitted.

“What, messing it up? The make-up only, or the dress as well?”

Midoriya laughed. The tone of it was slightly nervous, which helped to calm the flutterings in Todoroki’s own stomach. “It would be nice to do both,” Midoriya said, “but that dress was kind of expensive. And anyway.” His eyes flicked up to meet Todoroki’s. “I’d like you to wear it for me more than once, if that’s alright.”

“Hm.” Todoroki stood slowly, stretching up to his full height—still a head taller than Midoriya, even though Midoriya had long since grown to outweigh him. The slinky fabric of the dress shifted as he moved. Todoroki was conscious of the air against his skin at the open back, the low halter neckline that showed off his sternum. He was also conscious of Midoriya’s eyes on him, his gaze locked to the way the dress slipped around him.

Todoroki had always had a strong Quirk and had trained hard from a very young age, so he was fairly used to being one of the most objectively powerful people in the room. But that feeling didn’t compare at all to the sense of power he had now, the hold he held over the one who had grown to outpace him.

He allowed himself a small, slow smile, and took a step toward Midoriya. The slit in the dress parted over his leg, exposing his thigh nearly to the crease of his pelvis.

“I suppose it’s only fair,” Todoroki said. “Especially after you’ve been so accommodating to me.” He reached out to slide his hands over Midoriya’s shoulders.

“Obviously, it’s been a huge imposition,” Midoriya said.

“I’m sure,” Todoroki said. “I mean, just last night, you—”

“Shouto!” Midoriya’s face blazed. He grabbed the back of Todoroki’s neck and pulled him in for a toe-curling kiss. Todoroki felt Midoriya’s other hand press against the bare skin of his back and fought the urge to shiver at the contact. When Midoriya pulled away, his lips were smeared dark pink. Todoroki had a sudden understanding of what Midoriya meant about messing him up.

The couch was only a few paces away in Midoriya’s tiny apartment, so Todoroki pushed him until the backs of his legs hit the armrest. Then he pushed again to knock Midoriya over the armrest onto his back. Midoriya went without resistance, blinking up at Todoroki with wide eyes. He still had dark lipstick smeared around his mouth.

Todoroki stepped around the front of the couch. When Midoriya shifted as though to sit up and accommodate him, Todoroki stopped him with a hand against his chest. He lifted his leg and pulled the skirt aside with one hand so he could straddle Midoriya’s hips. As he settled down, the bulge of Midoriya’s erection pressed up behind his balls. Todoroki closed his eyes and leaned his head back, allowing himself an experimental rock of his hips, revelling in the sharp twinge of pleasure that coursed through his body and the way Midoriya shuddered underneath him. Midoriya’s hands flew to his hips, fingers digging hard.

Todoroki opened his eyes and lowered his gaze to Midoriya below him. Midoriya looked as though he might crack at any minute—Todoroki could feel the strength of the body between his thighs, the way he trembled as though he only just held himself in check. It sent a responding tremor up Todoroki’s spine.

He lowered one hand to Midoriya’s face and pressed his fingers to the smudge of lipstick, smearing it onto Midoriya’s cheek.

“I suppose I should return the favor,” Todoroki said quietly.

Midoriya’s hands tightened on his hips. It was all the warning Todoroki had before Midoriya rolled them off the couch. Todoroki’s back hit the floor hard, the carpet rough against his skin. He opened his mouth to complain, but Midoriya rocked hard against him—the thought fizzled in his brain before he had a chance to voice it. Instead, all he could manage was to wrap his arms around Midoriya’s shoulders and moan against his ear.

“Shouto,” Midoriya murmured against his neck. He reached between them and tugged the skirt of Todoroki’s dress out of the way so their bodies could fit more tightly together. “Can I take some pictures of you like this?”

Todoroki nodded, whispering a breathless, “yeah,” into Midoriya’s ear.

Midoriya pushed himself up until he was kneeling between Todoroki’s thighs, and Todoroki settled back against the floor with his arms loosely sprawled above his head. The dress splayed open at the split, exposing his legs all the way to his groin, where his hard-on strained against the tiny silken panties that Midoriya had purchased along with the dress.

Midoriya stared at him on the floor for a long breathless moment, until he let out a heavy sigh and licked his lips. “Where’s my phone?” he said.

He’d left it on the table where he’d applied Todoroki’s makeup. Todoroki watched him stand up to retrieve it, then laid motionless on the floor until Midoriya returned.

Midoriya didn’t kneel back down. He stood over Todoroki and held up his phone. “Just like that, stay there,” he said. Apologetically, he added, “Just for a minute, I promise.”

Todoroki smiled. He tucked in his chin and tried to imitate the demure expression that Midoriya had worn in the calendar photos. Before that calendar, before the mess after it and that late night at the office, Todoroki had waited for such a long time without any hope at all that his feelings could ever be reciprocated. Now, as he lay beneath Midoriya and admired the dark flush to his cheeks, watching the way his hands shook around his phone as he took another photo, Todoroki couldn’t help but think one more minute was just fine by him.