Archive of Our Own

Shouta would like to just be home already. If there was ever a Quirk he was envious of, it would be teleportation, because at the end of a long day full of stress and physical hardship, all he wants is to click his fingers and be home with all the dull minutiae of debrief and chores already completed. Alas, it is not to be, and Shouta leaves the police station on foot.

A moment later, Bakugo falls in step beside him.

“You live in the other direction, Old Man.”

Bakugo says it like an accusation, but that’s just his way. Shouta should know, he survived teaching the literal explosive ball of fury and repressed feelings which is Bakugo Katsuki for three years, and has worked alongside him off and on for another five. Shouta holds open his civilian jacket – big, puffy, basically a quilt you can wear in polite company – to demonstrate that the front of his hero costume is slashed across the front.

“Fuck! You alright?”

“Minor grazing. I’m fine.”

Bakugo sighs. It sounds like a huff, but Shouta can read his former-student well: he is relieved.

“That villain was a real headfucker. I prefer run-of-the-mill sadists and greedy morons – they are predictable.”

“And you don’t need help catching them,” Shouta adds dryly.

“Too fucking right.”

Bakugo turns in the direction of the support company that their agency partners with, and Shouta keeps up easily. He arches an eyebrow as Bakugo rolls his left shoulder, face scrunching.

“Is it bothering you,” Shouta asks, concerned.

“Eh? No.” Bakugo gives a breathless half-laugh. “My soulmark always fucking bothers me. Ei keeps tugging at me with it. Needy bastard.”

“Oh.”

Shouta wishes he hadn’t asked. He rubs his thumb-pads into the inner curves of his knuckles on reflex, pressing on his marked skin. He has never felt anything through his soulmarks, and why should he, when he’s close to forty and his soulmate is nowhere to be seen?

But still, Shouta still can’t turn down the opportunity to tease his favourite ex-student.

“I never had to deal with such a pair of menaces in my classroom as the two of you when you bonded.”

Shouta shakes his head and Bakugo scowls fiercely, but Shouta knows they are both remembering the way that Bakugo and Kirishima could not bear to be separated by more than a few inches for weeks after the first time their soulmarks touched – much to Bakugo’s annoyance.

“I never knew someone could be annoyed to find out their best friend is their soulmate.”

“We weren’t friends,” Bakugo protests grumpily, “he was just trying to bully his way into my affections.”

“It worked,” Shouta points out.

Out of the corner of his eye, Shouta sees Bakugo smile softly. The expression suits him. It’s good when people find each other, and Shouta still believes that, even though he’ll never know how it feels.

“Yeah,” Bakugo breathes, “it worked.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence. Bakugo doesn’t feel the need to fill the air around them with words and Shouta has always valued that about him. He is easy company to keep, despite his continued dedication to abrasive foul language. Bakugo’s PR rep gets paid triple what anyone else’s does: everyone knows it, and yet no one in the industry begrudges them.

Shouta starts to taps his thumb pads against his fingertips, a habit he picked up in childhood and never quite got over, and wonders what it would have felt like if he’d taken Oboro’s hand that day as he stood in their classroom, totally soaked, holding a slightly bedraggled kitten and Shouta’s umbrella. Shouta doesn’t remember ever seeing his friend’s soulmark, maybe it was on his wrist further up, but his memory always comes back to that day, that time, and he wishes he’d done things differently.

A meow at head height distracts him from his inner – familiar – melancholy. Shouta looks sideways to find a pretty, grey furred cat stalking along the wall next to them. He pauses, reaching out to offer the cat a sniff of his fingertips. After a moment of twitching whiskers, the soft head bumps into his hand, and Shouta smiles as he pets the cat.

Just ahead, Bakugo stops and turns. How a person can roll their eyes noisily Shouta has never managed to ascertain, but Bakugo does.

“Oh, not another stray, Old Man.”

“They’re not a stray,” Shouta replies, stroking the cat’s head, using his fingers to scratch between their ears. “They are clean and well fed and content. Just a friendly little sweetheart.”

“Thank fuck Ei didn’t hear you. We are not getting a fucking cat, no matter how cute he thinks they are.”

Shouta says goodbye to his new feline friend, and they scan their Hero IDs as they pass through the doors into the support company building. Shouta turns left – intending to place his damaged Hero suit into the drop off lockers, specifically designed to make life easier for Heroes in a hurry – but Bakugo grabs his arm and turns right.

“Come with me to the workshop.”

Shouta is instantly suspicious. He cannot imagine a scenario where Bakugo Katsuki chooses human interaction when he doesn’t absolutely have to.

“Why?”

“I want you to meet someone. I think- well, you guys will get on.”

“Don’t mince your words, Bakugo. I taught you better than that.”

“You didn’t teach me shit, Old Man,” Bakugo replies without pause.

But there is no bite in his words, no teeth, and when Bakugo nudges the ball of his shoulder into Shouta’s, it is as good as a tearful and heartfelt declaration of gratitude from any other former student. Shouta sighs, acting just a little more put upon than he actually feels, and goes with Bakugo to the workshop.

The moment they step through the double height doors, there is an explosion. A puff of slightly yellow tinted smoke drifts upwards from behind a rack of steel shelving, cluttered with tools and components and partially-finished interesting looking creations. Bakugo wanders over to a desk and dumps his left-hand gauntlet on it. Shouta watches him trail a fingertip along a row of battered notebook spines, frowning as he picks out one that has his first choice and unapproved Hero name on the cover. Bakugo grins, and then glances up and shouts.

“OI! DEKU!”

“GREAT EXPLOSION MURDER GOD DYNAMIGHT!”

Shouta arches an eyebrow at his colleague and former student, Bakugo smirks, chest puffed out, clearly proud.

“It’s a long story,” he explains.

“Be there in a moment!” comes an excited, disembodied voice from somewhere behind the clutter of support gear and welding screens.

Shouta glances back at Bakugo.

“Apparently we have time?”

“Me and Deku- Izuku, he’s Midoriya Izuku, we were best friends growing up. It’s a nickname from when we were kids… He didn’t get into UA.” A rueful expression crosses Bakugo’s features, and he reaches over to touch the soulmark on his shoulder. “I wouldn’t let him apply to UA. And he ended up at Shiketsu, and now he and Hatsume run the best support company in the country.” Bakugo shrugs, like it was nothing major, but Shouta knows better. “I get to call him my friend again, and that’s what’s important.”

Bakugo’s sharp eyes look back towards the shelf with the notebooks, and Shouta follows his gaze. There, acting as a bookend, is a photograph in a heavy duty frame, of what is clearly a much younger Bakugo wearing a homemade orange and black Hero costume, standing beside another boy with green hair and freckles and the biggest smile Shouta has ever seen. Tucked into the edge of the frame, is a newer picture – Bakugo at his graduation, his now husband’s arm coming from out of frame to loop around his neck, but the same green haired boy pressed against his side, beaming once more.

“You seem close.”

“We’re-” Bakugo begins, but he is interrupted by the appearance of Midoriya Izuku, who emerges from the louder, messier part of the workshop with soot marks on his cheek. “Oh good gods Deku, what have you done now?”

Midoriya grins, like it is nothing, then frowns and pinches at part of his unruly looking hair, which was smouldering slightly.

“I accidentally set off one of your new grenades – just a test size! – I want them to be able to explode with better precision. I’m using these cool new pins Hatsume helped me design.” He pauses to inhale, then ploughs right on. “And I was thinking of a redesign for your gauntlets so that- oh.”

Midoriya stops talking all at once, and looks at Shouta. He has big green eyes to match his green hair, and dark freckles under the soot marks across his cheeks. Shouta doesn’t meet his gaze for long, because knowing Midoriya is looking at him makes him feel perceived in a way he doesn’t normally like. Shouta watches as his tongue sneaks out to wet very plump pink lips, and suddenly he feels extremely hot under his clothes. The last time anyone looked at him that intensely, he was naked.

When Midoriya speaks next, his voice is even, level, deep, and it sends a shiver of pleasure down Shouta’s spine.

“Hello.”

***

Kacchan is talking.

“’Zuku! You fucking idiot. You singed your damn hair again! Least you’re here now. This is Aizawa Shouta – Erasure – he used to teach me and we work…”

Kacchan is talking, but for the first time in living memory, Izuku isn’t really aware of a single word his best friend has to say. He knows who Aizawa is – of course he does – because Izuku has always been and probably will forever be a Hero fanboy, even though he works with Pro-Heroes now almost every day. But that’s not the only reason he isn’t listening to Kacchan.

Izuku isn’t listening to Kacchan, because he is too busy looking at Aizawa, and for some reason, the sight of the older man is stopping his brain from being able to do more than one thing at once.

Aizawa is beautiful. And Izuku feels like he needs to look at him. He can’t look away.

Izuku is fairly certain that other people would not describe him as such, but it is the first word which comes to mind. Beautiful. Aizawa glances at him, then drops his gaze, and Izuku fights against the sudden desire to step forward and take him by the chin, and force Aizawa to look up and meet his eyes.

Instead, he smiles and offers his hand.

“Midoriya… it’s always nice to meet the people Kacchan talks about from UA, but I have a feeling this isn’t a purely social call?”

“Very astute,” Aizawa replies, and Izuku beams, because Aizawa’s tone is warm, complimentary even.

Izuku does his research, and he knows that Pro-Hero Erasure’s taciturn nature is widely recognised. Like Kacchan, he chooses his words carefully.

“Here,” Aizawa says, opening his coat.

The damage to Aizawa’s costume is obvious, but not extensive. A single long tear through which Izuku glimpses a tantalising flash of pale skin and a smattering of fine, dark body hair. Izuku reins in his natural desire to touch – not Aizawa necessarily, but the costume – and chews on his knuckles thoughtfully as he examines everything he can see from this angle.

Erasure’s famous capture weapon is spotless, but there is a deep nick in the material of his utility belt, and though his yellow framed goggles are fine, Izuku doesn’t think the under suit is worth repairing.

“Your defensive gear really isn’t up to task,” he says. “I know your fighting style keeps you at a distance and hand-to-hand melee isn’t your strong point, but this could have been a lot worse.”

Izuku glances up to look at Aizawa, but the Pro-Hero looks away quickly. Izuku tries not to take it personally – Aizawa’s Quirk requires direct eye contact – and Izuku doesn’t find it surprising that the man limits how much he looks at people. It makes Izuku want to tell him – even though he never willingly mentions his status to anyone if he can help it.

“I have a new material, like Kevlar, only lighter by a factor of six, without any loss of strength. Hatsume and I synthesised it after studying-”

“Nerd, dial it down,” Kacchan drawls in a false-bored tone.

There is a long pause, and then Aizawa says in a low, soft voice:

“I enjoy your enthusiasm.”

Kacchan rolls his eyes.

“Fuck, don’t encourage him.”

Kacchan grins though, and then his attention is distracted – magpie like – by the bits and pieces of grenade casings and moulds arranged over Izuku’s workbench. Izuku looks back at Aizawa, and this time he catches Aizawa’s gaze, and smiles.

“I would like to measure you for a new costume.”

Aizawa opens his mouth, closes it, and nods.

Izuku watches as Aizawa pulls his capture weapon off over his head and twists it into a fancy looking coil on the workbench. Izuku’s fingers itch to touch; he’s wanted to know exactly how Aizawa’s weapon works for ages, and all Kacchan has ever been able to tell him is that trying to get out of it is really annoying.

Honestly, Kacchan has so much first-hand information, and it’s all useless because he’s such an unreliable narrator of his own life experiences. Oh well.

“Can I feel?”

Aizawa shrugs, like it’s not important, but Izuku is very aware of the way the man is looking at him as he steps forward to examine his ruined under suit. Right at the last moment, Izuku remembers he needs a tape measure, and fishes out a soft fabric one from one of his many, many pockets.

Aizawa is grizzled, older than Izuku, slightly grungy, and Izuku puts a hand on the edge of his collar and runs the tape down to the point of shoulder, and wonders what it would be like to wash Aizawa’s hair, brush it until it’s silky soft, and then put the older man on his knees.

Izuku swallows down his lust. Aizawa is just his type. And Izuku decided a while ago that he’s allowed to have a type, allowed to have selfish fantasies, even if he doesn’t have a person of his own.

“Arm please,” Izuku says softly, and tries not to sigh happily from the thrill of watching Aizawa obey him so quickly.

Izuku mutters the measurements, knowing that everything is being taken down by his digital personal assistant. It’s a step up from a dictaphone or a smart speaker, but Izuku doesn’t like to rely on it too much, because Hatsume made it. Izuku loves and values his business partner, but she is chaos incarnate and is always up to something.

Izuku takes Aizawa’s wrist, bends his arm to measure from shoulder to elbow, then elbow to knuckle, then wraps the tape measure around his wrist.

It makes him think of cuffs, of rope, and Izuku has to shake himself to get his head out of the gutter when he’s supposed to be a professional at work.

And then he sees Aizawa’s soulmark. There on the pads of his thumbs are two green stars, lined with black, exactly as if they were drawn on with marker pens.

There is nothing so good at dowsing his libido than the reminder that everyone else has a special someone, and that that someone isn’t Izuku.

“Is your partner’s mark the same colour? Or do they also have stars but in another shade?” It’s a polite question, easy, and most people love to talk about their soulmarks.

Apparently Aizawa is not most people, because he frowns deeply, and his voice is very gruff when he replies.

“No. I do not have a-” He pauses. “I haven’t found them.” Another pause. “You?”

Izuku wishes he hadn’t said anything because this is his least favourite conversation.

“No. No soulmark.”

Izuku expects a noise of pity, or surprise, or shock, because that is the usual reaction. Instead, Aizawa just blinks, making a noise in the back of his throat to show he’s heard. Bakugo has wandered off, being nosey, browsing notebooks and sketches and prototypes, and because Izuku has been given the space to talk, he does, even though he usually hates talking about himself. But silence has never been Izuku’s friend, and his digital personal assistant has hours and hours of recorded muttering from when he’s been the only person in the building.

“I don’t have a soulmark. But also, I don’t have a Quirk. I guess I’m just unlucky all round.” Izuku avoids Aizawa’s expression by stepping behind him, running his tape measure across the span of the man’s shoulders. “I had to find my purpose elsewhere.”

Izuku sweeps Aizawa’s thick hair to one side to expose the nape of his neck and the high collar of his suit. Izuku trails his knuckles down the other man’s spine, trying not to commit the curve of him to memory as he holds the tape against Aizawa’s tail-bone for the measurement.

“Have you always made Bakugo’s support gear?” Aizawa asks softly.

“Yes.” Izuku measures the back of Aizawa’s waist, then his hips. “Well, nearly always.”

“Oh?”

“When Kacchan got into UA and I went to Shiketsu… there was a while when we didn’t talk much.” Izuku grimaces to think of those long months of silence, of Kacchan’s easy dismissal of him: he is so glad all that is behind them, fixed with a half shouted, half tearful apology in the rain, and the best of hugs afterwards. “I didn’t know until his first televised villain take-down during his first year apprenticeship that Kacchan had brought my original sketches with him to UA. So, his first Hero costume that he wore for his debut wasn’t actually made by me, but it was based on my designs.”

“Your work is very good.”

Izuku, in the process of moving around to Aizawa’s front to measure the breadth of his chest, blushes horribly. He knows from Kacchan’s many school stories that Aizawa does not hand out compliments easily.

Izuku gulps down his stammer, takes a deep breath, and decides to channel the energy he needs to be confident instead of awed and horny.

“I think we will be able to give you much more flexible protection, without actually updating your look. Rebranding can be such an annoyance and your agency will not like me if I screw around with their schedule.”

“Oh, I doubt my agency have much opinion about my appearance.”

Izuku frowns, and rakes his gaze critically over Aizawa. They are standing very close – it is a necessity Izuku tells himself – and when Aizawa huffs a scraggle of hair out of his face, it brushes the tip of Izuku’s nose.

Izuku wants to wrap it around his finger. He wants to touch. He wants to make a fist in Aizawa’s hair and force the other man to meet his eyes. Izuku tries to quell the feeling. He manages, but it is difficult.

“Well, that cannot be true. You are very handsome.”

It’s a fast slip of the tongue, and for a moment, Izuku thinks he might have gotten away with it, but then his fingers pause as he measures Aizawa from clavicle to navel, and he glances up to see the soft pink flush covering Aizawa’s cheeks. The scar below his right eye pales slightly in contrast, and Izuku stuffs the tape measure and both hands back into his pockets. He wants to run his fingers over the textures of Aizawa’s skin, but he definitely should not do that.

He can hardly believe he told Aizawa that he’s handsome – so forward, so bold – when he is usually so good at remaining professional. Nerdy, too talkative, but professional nonetheless.

And he used his dom voice. Izuku never uses his dom voice, not outside of a scene, but it just slipped out. Natural, easy, instinctive. Izuku doesn’t remember the last time he felt so naturally pulled toward another person like this. There’s a feeling he gets around Aizawa, like Izuku wants to take care of him, praise him, and see the way Aizawa flourishes with it. He is sure Aizawa’s blush can get richer than it is now.

But Aizawa raises his arm at Izuku’s command so that Izuku can measure from armpit to hip, and Izuku catches sight of Aizawa’s soulmark once more.

Aizawa has a soulmark, that little green star. It’s Izuku’s favourite colour.

Izuku wants, but Aizawa has a soulmark, which means there is someone out there who is perfect for him. Izuku makes himself take a step back mentally, crouching to finish his measurements – hip to knee, knee to ankle, around the ankle, knee and thigh – and be professional.

He can look, but Izuku cannot allow himself to want someone who is so obviously off limits.

Izuku only realises how quiet they both are when Kacchan’s voice interrupts them, standing right behind him.

“You’ve bewitched him, Old Man,” Kacchan crows. “I can’t believe Freckles here hasn’t been nerding-out about your stats or your capture weapon this whole time. He usually never stops.”

“Kacchan-!” Izuku protests, but he’s cut off by Aizawa frinally meeting his eyes as he stands.

“What did you want to know?”

It catches Izuku off guard – the question, the open expression on Aizawa’s face, the big stretch of quiet around them – and he babbles.

“I mean- I’d be really interested to see how your capture weapon works up close sometime. But usually, I prefer to be the one doing the-” Izuku stops himself from finishing the sentence by actually clapping both hands over his mouth to stem the flow of words. He knows his face has gone bright red, his eyes wide, his brain stalling with what he very nearly said to Kacchan’s ex-teacher, Kacchan’s colleague, his own new client.

Kacchan, of course, cackles loudly, and Izuku’s blush gets worse.

“I mean- um- never mind,” Izuku mumbles.

Kacchan smirks, arms folded across his chest. Izuku notes that at some point Kacchan has changed out of his Hero gear.

“See Old Man, I told you you guys would get along.” Bakugo’s smirk becomes a broad smile, then he knocks against Aizawa’s shoulder, and turns to face Izuku. “Aizawa is a member of the same club that Ei and I go to.”

“Oh.” Izuku’s brain re-colours the past half hour, the way Aizawa looked at him and cast his eyes down, the way he followed all of Izuku’s instructions, the way Izuku just went dom without even thinking about it. “Oh…”

Bakugo arches an eyebrow at Aizawa.

“Freckles is a kinky fucker too.”

“Kacchan!” Izuku shrieks, his voice now the polar opposite of the tone his dom voice uses. “You can’t just say that.”

“Am I wrong?”

Izuku gapes at his best friend, then turns to Aizawa and bows deeply.

“Please forgive Kacchan. I think he is a brother I have been cursed with.”

“Oi!” Bakugo tries to grab him, almost certainly to scour his pointy knuckles across Izuku’s scalp. “You are damn lucky to have me.”

“Yes, Kacchan,” Izuku says, sounding hard done by. They both know it’s an act.

“I’m gonna leave my gauntlets with you, Nerd. I have my stealth pair to use in the meantime. The trigger is dodgy.” Kacchan winks at Aizawa, “I gotta go, I’ve got a husband to rail into the nearest-”

“BYE KACCHAN!” Izuku pushes his childhood friend away with a shout, wishing he dared put a hand over Kacchan’s mouth. Experience tells him if he tries, he’ll get bitten. “No one needs to hear the end of that sentence. It was really nice to see you, say hi to Ei for me, and we’ll catch up this weekend or something, bye now!”

Kacchan practically trips out of the door, laughing heartily, and Izuku stands inside the workshop, shaking slightly as he turns back to Aizawa.

“Sorry.”

Aizawa is standing exactly where Izuku left him, mouth turned up into a small smile. He looks… impressed.

“If I knew there was someone who could wrangle Bakugo so easily then I would have had a far easier three years trying to teach him.”

Izuku huffs out a laugh, and rubs the back of his head as he returns to his work space, rolling up the tape measure neatly. His is very aware of the way Aizawa’s gaze follows his movements.

Aizawa and Kacchan and Eijiro all belong to the same club. And Izuku doesn’t, but only because he belongs to a very similar one on the other side of the city. There are some things about Kacchan, and about Eijiro, that Izuku doesn’t need to know in explicit detail.

“Kacchan and I have had our up and downs. It was rough when we were teenagers, but it got easier once we both worked out who we really are.”

Aizawa’s eyebrow twitches, and he meets Izuku’s gaze.

“And who are you really?”

Izuku takes a breath, stands squarer, straighter, and takes the opportunity to look Aizawa up and down. His brain works very fast and in many directions at once – calculating, analysing, drawing up lines of Aizawa’s new suit in his mind, picturing what he looks like underneath it – and then he sets a hand on his hip and takes another step closer.

“I’m the guy who is going to make you into the very best version of yourself.”

“Those are big promises,” Aizawa says softly.

Izuku smiles, remembering exactly what Kacchan said, and finds his voice dropping half an octave, his whole body slipping into dominant mode, like he could put Aizawa on his knees right here and now.

“I am very good at keeping my promises, Aizawa.”

Izuku is pretty sure he sees Aizawa shiver.

***

Izuku spends most of the next day working on Aizawa’s new suit. It’s weird for him, because usually he drops everything on his desk to deal with Kacchan’s gear, but he woke up with his brain whirring and his fingers twitching. By lunch, he has covered eight pages with notes about Aizawa’s body type and range of movement, research about his fighting style, tables of measurements and statistics, strengths and weaknesses.

At this stage, Izuku figures it’s best to just give in.

The fact that he spent ten minutes in the shower with his hand wrapped around himself stifling his moans with his knuckles is… well, no one needs to know about that.

Izuku has a large table cleared and is laying out fabric for a mock-up to test the exact fit of the many pieced pattern he’s been designing when Hatsume arrives at his elbow with a broad grin and a box of assorted French pastries, smelling faintly of epoxy based resin.

“Working on something for your new crush?”

“Mei!” Izuku squeaks, turning instantly red. His dominant tendencies go completely AWOL in the presence of his business partner; Hatsume’s chaotic energy is just too great.

“I know you, Izuku,” Hatsume says with a glint in her eye. “Your handwriting only gets this cramped and cryptic when you have a new hyper fixation.”

She sifts through a bunch of pages on Izuku’s other desk and pulls out a sketch of Aizawa onto which Izuku has transcribed the measurements copied down by his digital assistant. The sketch has been rendered – completely unnecessarily – with frenetic cross hatching in kohl based pencil to give Aizawa’s hair a soft, almost touchable, texture.

“And you only draw like this when you thinking with your dick.”

Izuku opens his mouth to protest, then thinks better of it, and slumps against the cutting table.

“Is it that obvious?” he asks, feeling defeated.

“Mmhmm.” Hatsume pauses, and grins at him. “Go for it Izuku! After all, what have you got to lose?”

“Pride, self-respect, the usual.”

Hatsume levels him with an unimpressed glare.

“You already willingly wore that stupid Shiketsu hat for three whole years; that ship has sailed.”

***

Izuku
Hello Aizawa

Izuku
This is Midoriya Izuku, from the Support Agency

Shouta
Yes. I remember.

Izuku
oh good

Shouta
Do I need to come back in for a fitting?

Izuku
No

Izuku
actually, this isn’t about your suit.

Shouta
oh.

Izuku
um-

Izuku
I wanted to-

Izuku
Kacchan said you guys go to the same club.

Izuku
sorry.

Izuku
I’m not very good over text.

Shouta
you’re doing just fine Midoriya.

Izuku
Izuku

Izuku
um…

Izuku
I’d like it if you called me Izuku.

Shouta
Izuku. Alright.

Shouta
so, you had a question?

Izuku
yeah. So, the club. Are you-

Izuku
are you the same as Kacchan or-?

Shouta
I’m a sub

Shouta
but you knew that already, didn’t you?

Izuku
It’s far too forward of me to say I already want to put you on your knees but-

Shouta
you said it anyway.

Izuku
oh

Shouta
Bakugo said you don’t have a verbal filter, and apparently that applies over text too.

Izuku
I don’t mumble over text.

Izuku
Kacchan trained me out of it.

Izuku
mostly via vast amounts of aggressive swearing.

Shouta
how considerate.

Shouta
Is there a code for laughing? I’m not good with emojis

Izuku
there are no good kink emojis anyway.

Shouta
I’m not sure I have ever tried to send a kinky emoji.

Izuku
I swear at one point, half of Kacchan’s texts were just him trying to relate stuff he and Eijiro had done together via emojis.

Izuku
Kacchan hates emojis. But Kacchan’s not always good with words.

Shouta
Are you active in the scene?

Izuku
Yes.

Izuku
I don’t have anyone right now, but I did get to introduce my last sub to their soulmate when he went dancing.

Izuku
that was- a lot.

Shouta
I’m not a very good dancer.

Izuku
just follow my lead. I’m great at instructions.

Shouta
I’ll bet.

Izuku
asfklkfjhgh

Izuku
OK

Shouta
cute key smash for a dom.

Izuku
hey! Doms get flustered too!

Shouta
I guess.

Izuku
so what about you?

Shouta
I’m having a… dry spell?

Shouta
There’s been no one I’ve vibed with in a while.

Izuku
I’m sorry.

Shouta
But I do enjoy talking with you, Izuku.

Izuku
oh. 😊 thank you.

Izuku
Rope or cuffs?

Shouta
That’s your opening text? No ‘good morning’?

Izuku
good morning Aizawa-san.

Shouta
oh gods no. Please do not try and sound like one of my students.

Shouta
Start again.

Izuku
Hey Shouta.

Shouta
oh.

Izuku
Rope or cuffs.

Izuku
and why.

Shouta
cuffs

Shouta
definitely cuffs.

Izuku
yeah?

Shouta
mmhmmm. I have heard enough pervy comments about my capture weapon to last a lifetime.

Izuku
omg 😵

Izuku
I’m so sorry.

Shouta
and what about you?

Izuku
I think you’d look great in cuffs.

Izuku
Good afternoon Shouta

Shouta
how civilised.

Izuku
what the most cringe thing to happen to you at a club?

Shouta
I take it back.

Izuku
don’t worry. I’ll go first.

Izuku
so I get the ‘you’re too cute/little/too much baby face’ to be a dom a lot.

Izuku
which is wrong, but not cringy.

Izuku
and then-

Izuku
I was chatting with Eijiro at a bar one evening – Kacchan doesn’t dance – and this guy who was far too full of himself walks up to me and goes “ditch the lumberjack and come let Daddy take care of you”.

Izuku
Eijiro actually spit his drink laughing.

Shouta
wow that’s… I mean that’s REALLY cringe.

Izuku
your turn.

Shouta
oh gods. Fine.

Shouta
I went with a friend to a new private club a while back. And some idiot started laughing his head off because my name is ‘shota’.

Shouta
like, kink shaming aside, I get why he thought it was funny but also absolutely not.

Izuku
OMG

Izuku
that’s-

Izuku
oh noes.

Shouta
indeed. Not my thing.

Izuku
I don’t go for daddy/little either.

Shouta
what do you go for?

Izuku
fssshjkglgjfh

Izuku
OK I should have expected that.

Shouta
well?

Izuku
I like my subs happy and quiet and on their knees.

Shouta
well. That does sound fun.

Izuku
did you know

Shouta
this sounds ominous

Izuku
that Kacchan has an oral fixation kink

Shouta
I BEG YOU TO NOT

Izuku
XD

Shouta
Look, it was hard enough to adjust to seeing him in club settings as an adult and not a student.

Izuku
oh no

Izuku
please don’t tell me he still called you-

Shouta
sensei.

Shouta
yup.

Shouta
for like, a month.

Izuku
I'm sorry

Shouta
don’t.

Shouta
If you start apologising for him, you'll never stop

Izuku
if he was that bad a student then I’ll get him to apologise to you.

Shouta
honestly that might be even more awkward.

Izuku
🙃

Izuku
so when I pointed out to Kacchan that his propensity to chew on things our entire childhood was probably a precursor to his oral fixation he went SO RED.

Izuku
Like, the same as Eijiro’s hair.

Shouta
those two are insufferable and deserve each other 100%

Izuku
I’m so glad they found each other.

Shouta
but could they maybe have not found each other literally in the middle of my classroom?

Izuku
hahahahaha

Izuku
good evening Shouta

Shouta
it’s evening already?

Izuku
did you eat dinner yet?

Shouta
why, are you inviting me out?

Izuku
if it wasn’t for the fact that I am elbow deep inside the guts of a mech-suit right now, I would absolutely take you to dinner Shouta.

Izuku
please eat. For me?

Shouta
is that a question, or a command?

Izuku
do you want it to be a command?

Shouta
apparently there is an emoji for blushing somewhere.

Izuku
Shouta.

Izuku
put down whatever you are doing, and eat something.

Izuku
you have to text me a picture.

Izuku
you have 10 minutes.

Shouta
oh

Shouta

Izuku
Well done.

Shouta
um. Thanks.

Shouta
It’s been… a really long time.

Shouta
My Quirk makes it hard to find a dom who is comfortable with me.

Izuku
Because whenever you meet their eyes you cancel their Quirk, and even if they’re not actively using their Quirk, it feels emasculating?

Shouta
Bakugo was right, you are perceptive.

Izuku
I have an analyst’s brain.

Shouta
and… blindfolds are fun, but I don’t want to wear one all the time.

Izuku
I’m sorry.

Izuku
but-

Izuku
since you brought it up… that’s not going to be a problem with me.

Izuku
I’m hoping you’ll want to do a scene together. I’d really like that.

Shouta
oh?

Izuku
I mean-

Izuku
I don’t have a Quirk for you to cancel. There has to finally be some benefit to being Quirkless, right?

***

Shouta wonders, for the umpteenth time, if this is a mistake.

He is due to meet Izuku in a hotel bar not far from his agency’s headquarters in ten minutes time, and Shouta is digging his fingernails into his palms and chewing his lower lip and wondering what the heck he is doing.

The pair of them have been engaging in engaging, witty, very enjoyable text conversations for the past few days, culminating in Shouta emailing over a copy of his yes/no kink and situations list to Izuku, and receiving one back an hour later. They’ve talked, but what if, when they get in a room together, the chemistry isn’t there? Or worse, what if it is there for Shouta, but not for Izuku? Shouta isn’t sure he could stand that.

Shouta knows he is being selfish. It is hard enough to find someone he thinks is both physically and mentally attractive who is also into kink, and who doesn’t baulk at the fact that Shouta still doesn’t have a soul mate.

Shouta stares into the middle distance. He doesn’t have a soulmate, but- he might have had one. His memory conjures up that happy, smiling face, the cloud of white hair, the buoyant sense of joy… He might have been Shouta’s soulmate, could have been, maybe.

Shouta decides that not knowing is better, and also that it’s best to let Izuku be in the dark. No one wants to get into his emotional baggage, especially not if they are just out to have mutually beneficial, kinky fun.

Shouta takes a deep breath, wonders if Izuku told Bakugo they were meeting up, and decides to turn his phone off for the duration, just in case.

Shouta can have fun. It’s allowed.

Izuku is already waiting for him at the bar, looking young and fresh faced and gorgeous in a black button down shirt and well fitted jeans. He combs his fingers through unruly curls, and beams at Shouta as he sits down.

“Hey.”

“Hi. You look nice.”

“Kacchan picked it out.”

Well, that answers that question.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to give him any details. A gentleman does not kiss and tell.”

“Are you a gentleman, Izuku?”

Izuku arches an eyebrow at him, and pushes Shouta’s drink – whiskey on the rocks – across the table towards him.

“Oh yes. And I fully intend to give you everything you want.”

Shouta shivers, and sips his drink. He’s not sure why he was nervous, because Izuku’s voice is already making his knees feel weak.

Izuku swirls his umeshu around in the glass, and Shouta finds himself wondering what it will be like to kiss the sweet plum wine from his lips. Maybe he should have ordered one of those.

By the time they make it through their drinks, Shouta has stopped doubting himself. Despite the undercurrent of excited sexual tension, this is the most relaxed Shouta has felt in ages. Izuku carries the conversation, asks easy, leading questions, and Shouts finds himself talking far more than he normally does. Every time his answer rambles, Izuku’s green eyes light up with pleasure, and Shouta’s heart and stomach both do interesting flips inside him.

Their server comes by, but Izuku puts his hand out to cover Shouta’s glass before they can finish asking the question. Shouta hasn’t had a dom answer a question for him in public with such confidence in nearly a decade.

“No. One drink only.” Izuku meets Shouta’s eyes once their server bows and moves on. “Drink and safe decisions do not mix.”

“OK,” Shouta answers.

Izuku smiles warmly, perfectly happy to hold Shouta’s gaze without fear.

“Excellent.” He finishes his drink. “Let’s go upstairs.”

In the elevator Izuku holds out his hand and Shouta feels the urge to just drop to his knees and place his head in Izuku’s palm and not think about anything at all. He’s been slipping into an agreeable, submissive headspace since he sat down, and it really does not feel like the first time they’ve done this.

“You have the sheet I sent you?”

Shouta removes the heavily folded piece of paper from an inner pocket and hands it over. It is titled ‘tonight I want…’ and Shouta has never met a dom who was so thorough in preparation and planning. But then, Izuku did tell him that his analytical brain applied to all his passions, not just Pro-Heroes and their support gear.

Shouta watches Izuku read the sheet. Shouta is good at reading people – it’s probably part of what makes him a good teacher as well as a decent Hero – and he follows along as Izuku’s lips shape words silently, reflecting the things Shouta circled.

Cuffs, oral, cockwarming. Playing with hair.

Izuku’s free hand grasps and clenches at that last one and Shouta feel pleasure blooming warmly in his chest. There isn’t anything to tick for ‘it makes me happy when my dom is happy with me’ but it is definitely at the core of why Shouta does this. It’s more than just a praise kink, and it’s not like he’s generally a people pleaser, but there’s something about making a dom genuinely pleased that Shouta loves.

Shouta watches Izuku skim the rest of the sheet. He nearly, nearly, circled a bunch of stuff from the impact play section. Izuku knows it is one of his favourite sensation kinks just from everything they’ve discussed, but he has a late shift tomorrow.

That’s not the whole reason though.

Shouta can feel himself slipping very easily towards subspace for this young man, but his Quirk doesn’t let him read minds, and he doesn’t want to dive right into something so intense when he doesn’t really know how Izuku feels. The heavy stuff is out for today, but Shouta did highlight ‘submissive’ and ‘peaceful’ in the ‘I want to feel…’ section, then scrawled ‘floaty’ across the bottom of it.

The elevator dings.

“You use the stoplight system, correct?” Izuku asks.

“Yes, S-” Shouta starts, but Izuku touches a hand to his shoulder and squeezes.

“Not yet. You can call me that once we’re inside, OK?”

Shouta nods dumbly.

“And, if you can’t speak, you hit me with your knee.”

“Yes, S- Yes, Izuku.”

Izuku grins, clearly pleased with Shouta’s reaction.

“That’s good.”

Izuku is the one who opens the door, but he steps aside and bows Shouta through first. It’s a nice room, plain, clean, well furnished. The bed is big, much bigger than Shouta’s own, and Shouta stands beside it and presses his fingertips into his soulmark.

Izuku lays a hand on his shoulder, warm and heavy, instantly reassuring.

“Why don’t you choose what level of clothes makes you comfortable and get ready? I’ll set up out here.”

“Yes, Sir.”

This time, Izuku beams.

Shouta goes to the bathroom. He stares at his reflection in the mirror, frowns at his hair – newly washed but looking like it has never seen a brush – and traces the line of his scar where it curves under his eye. He huffs.

Nothing he can do about how he looks now.

Shouta washes his face and hates that he feels insecure as he strips to his underwear. Nervous he could understand – this is their first scene together – but the only thing Shouta feels nervous about right now is being a disappointment to his dom. For a moment, Shouta rubs his thumbs together, the soft relief of his double soulmark pressing together.

It’s a childish self soothing habit he never outgrew. Maybe he would have, if he and Oboro had ever actually… but it doesn’t matter. No one can change the past.

He tells himself that it’s OK that he wants to impress Izuku, that he feels so comfortable with him already. Soulmate or not, he’s allowed to have this.

Shouta takes a deep breath.

“No hesitation,” he says to himself quickly, and opens the door.

Izuku has been quick about setting up the room. The duvet is laid out on the floor by the bed and there is a nest of pillows arranged on it, but Shouta’s gaze is instantly drawn to the pair of black leather cuffs lying on the mattress. He swallows, throat clicking.

“You’re still dressed.” Shouta doesn’t intend it to sound like an accusation, but it still does a little.

“We didn’t actually discuss me getting naked,” Izuku replies smoothly. He’s using his dom voice – rich, confident, strong – and Shouta shivers. He wants to go to his knees already. “If you’re good, that can be your reward. Would you like that?”

“Yes Sir,” Shouta breathes.

“Well done.” Izuku’s smile is bright, welcoming, and it feels like praise. “Come here.”

Shouta feels his feet moving before Izuku even finishes speaking, before he even decides to follow Izuku’s instruction. For half a heart-beat, he catches himself thinking of all the reasons he shouldn’t – Izuku is younger than he is, Izuku isn’t his soulmate, they don’t really know each other – but then he meets Izuku’s eyes. Izuku is looking right at him, unafraid, unbothered by the power of Shouta’s quirk, and he is mouthwatering.

“Show me your hands, please.”

Shouta offers up his hands the moment he reaches Izuku. Izuku’s fingers are a little rough, a little dry as he circles Shouta’s wrists, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over Shouta’s pulse point and the tendons and soft blue veins right there under thin skin.

“Can you count your heartbeats for me?”

“Um… yes?”

“Out loud please.” Izuku presses his left thumb more firmly over Shouta’s pulse.

“One, two, three-”

“Slower. That’s it sweetheart. Breathe with me, relax.”

Shouta takes a deep breath, and lets it out, feeling unsteady, but he says;

“Four. Five…”

And then takes another breath, copying Izuku, watching his dom smile sweetly at him.

“That’s better. You’re doing great, Shouta.”

Izuku’s other hand glides up Shouta’s bare arm to his elbow, and Shouta starts to follow even before the soft little guiding tug. “Come along with me now sweetheart. Walk forwards.”

Shouta half stumbles as he steps onto the duvet – he can’t seem to quite work out where his feet are – but Izuku holds him firmly, smiling all the time, and Shouta just follows those big green eyes to wherever Izuku wants to lead him.

After Shouta reaches thirty, Izuku leans in close and wipes his thumb over Shouta’s lips.

“That’s enough counting. Good boy.” He is very close, his breath ghosting warmly over Shouta’s cheek and jaw. “I’m going to put your arms behind you, alright?”

“Yes,” Shouta sighs.

Izuku keeps hold of him as he reaches for the cuffs, strokes his wrist, the fine bones in the back of his hands, massaging the tendons in his palm with one thumb before he lays the thick, butter soft leather of the first cuff over Shouta’s skin.

“I knew you’d look good in black,” Izuku purrs.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Shouta watches Izuku work as he buckles the cuffs. The light shines golden in the green curls which fall over his forehead, his lashes are thick where they brush his cheek, Shouta starts counting freckles under his breath. If Izuku notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“How does that feel?”

“Green…” Shouta doesn’t actually mean to say it, he was going to say ‘good’, but the word got off track somehow. Izuku’s movements and the touch of his warm, work-rough hands captures all Shouta’s attention.

“I’m going to step behind you now sweetheart. I’m still here.”

“Can-” Shouta stops. He’s had doms before who didn’t like questions.

“Sweetheart?” Izuku’s palm is heavy and grounding at the curve of his waist.

“Can I close my eyes?”

Izuku’s eyes crinkle at the corners. He looks so pretty.

“Of course.” He squeezes Shouta’s hip for a moment. “You can always ask questions, OK?”

“OK.”

The moment Izuku steps out of his field of vision, Shouta closes his eyes. It’s easier to keep track of where Izuku is without looking at anything, and he follows the warm and unhurried footfalls as Izuku stands close behind him, and takes his other wrist. The cuffs are connected by a double ended clasp, maybe two inches long, and Shouta straightens his shoulders, chest jutting out as he settles into position. The click and chink of leather straps and steel buckles is soothing, familiar, and Shouta lets him be drawn into the small noises. It’s easy to relax into Izuku’s confident touch.

“I’m here again,” Izuku says softly, and Shouta opens his eyes to find Izuku in front of him once more. Nice and close. “You look beautiful. Come with me now sweetheart?”

“Mmm…” Shouta isn’t known as someone who speaks a lot. But usually it’s because he doesn’t want to engage in conversation, not because he doesn’t know what to say. Now, he doesn’t feel like speaking, because Izuku is in control, Izuku is showing him where to step, how to stand, when to breathe. It’s so good.

“Kneel down now sweetheart.”

Shouta kneels. The duvet and the pillows are soft under him. He shuffles, getting comfortable, and Izuku hums in praise.

“So lovely.”

Izuku trails a warm hand over his shoulders, crossing Shouta’s back, moving around him, but always staying in sight. He runs his fingers up the back of Shouta’s neck and tightens a quick fist in his hair. Shouta gasps lightly at the pleasure which prickles at the back of his skull.

“Your hair is nice, Shouta. Could be softer though.” Izuku’s fingers drag up, coming through the strands. “It would make me very happy to take care of you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Izuku finger-combs Shouta’s bangs away from his face. “You’re so good. So well behaved.”

Shouta groans a soft sound of assent.

“Such a pretty, well behaved sub.”

Shouta whimpers.

Izuku settles on the edge of the bed, one hand still in Shouta’s hair, and Shouta wants to just list forwards, stop supporting himself, and stay quiet and content under Izuku’s touch. And Izuku seems to have the same idea.

“Thats it. Just rest there.” Izuku’s fingers card through his hair again and again, a firm, soothing, confident motion. “You work so hard, you deserve to relax sweetheart.”

“Mmm…” Shouta hears himself grunt.

“Look at you, my good boy. It makes me so happy to see you like this. You deserve good things.” Izuku’s short trimmed fingernails drag over his scalp, and Shouta groans softly. “You’re so good to let me take care of you. You deserve to be spoiled sweetheart.”

Shouta opens his mouth to object, but Izuku rubs a thumb across his lips, and Shouta follow the motion with his tongue automatically.

“I’ll be so happy to spoil you. You’d let me do that, wouldn’t you sweetheart?” Izuku leans closer, torso curving over Shouta’s head, and he feels safe, protected, floaty. “You are pleasing me, letting me take care of you like you deserve. Good boy.”

Shouta blinks slowly. The shapes Izuku's lips make are mesmerising, the light which bounces in his hair is fascinating, and Shouta wishes his hands were free so he could touch each of Izuku’s perfectly placed freckles. He wonders if Izuku’s cheeks are as squishy as they look.

“Perfect, sweetheart.”

Another stroke through Shouta’s hair, fingers kneading the back of his neck, Shouta groans, eyes falling shut. He almost slumps into Izuku’s lap, the firm thigh underneath his cheek, sinking into Izuku’s radiating warmth.

“Do you want a treat now?”

Shouta’s eyes flash open, intense. He blinks, turning off his Quirk, then realises that Izuku never even tried to look away.

“Relax sweetheart. You have to be relaxed or you don’t get a treat.”

Shouta tries not to whine, but he exhales, and drifts back into the warm, floaty feeling Izuku’s hands on him invite.

“That’s it. That’s much better.” Izuku’s thumb presses into the divot of his chin. “Now, show me you deserve your treat.”

Shouta licks his lips, turns his head to be better pillowed on Izuku’s broad thigh, and opens his mouth. Izuku’s groan of satisfaction is like music.

“Gorgeous,” Izuku purrs, and slides two fingers into Shouta’s mouth and across his tongue. “So soft and wet. Open wider now… that’s it.” Izuku pets his tongue and strokes the bumpy surface of Shouta’s teeth. “Look at you, indulging me so beautifully.”

Shouta blinks up through his lashes at Izuku above him, a little bit hazy, softly focused and warm. Izuku smiles down at him.

“Gorgeous.”

Shouta sighs, breathing across Izuku’s fingers and Izuku smiles again, cheeks plump, so Shouta allows his eyes to slide closed once more, trusting that Izuku will take care of him.

And Izuku does.

He strokes Shouta’s hair and his tongue and his teeth, presses and rubs his lips, and whispers all sorts of soft, sweet things which drape over Shouta like a million blankets. Shouta feels woozy, almost sleepy, and when Izuku asks him if he’s ready, he just groans softly.

Izuku’s cock is soft, hot, and velvety smooth. Shouta curls his tongue underneath, cradling the sweet muscle and his sigh of satisfaction matches pitch with Izuku’s moan of pleasure.

“Good boy. You’re so perfect, Shouta.” Izuku’s fingers drag through his hair again, and his words stroke across Shouta’s mind. “Just sit quiet and relax sweetheart.”

It’s no hardship to relax, no hardship to follow his dom’s instructions, no hardship to put all he is in Izuku’s strong, warm, capable hands. Shouta kneels, hands trapped, mouth open, eyes closed, and does nothing but breathe.

“There now… that’s wonderful to see Shouta,” Izuku purrs. “You don’t need to do anything now, just relax.” Izuku’s fingers comb through his hair, curl around the back of his ear, stroke the delicate skin there. Shouta can’t see him, but he can feel the way Izuku smiles – proud and pleased all at once. “You’re enough, Shouta. Just as you are, you’re enough.”

Shouta is glad he can’t speak, that he doesn’t need to speak, because speech is so far beyond him right now that it may as well be in a different country.

Izuku promised Shouta to give him everything he wanted, and he delivered.

Shouta floats in a haze of sweet numbness and delightful sensation for a timeless while, and it’s not until he feels Izuku kneading gently his shoulders that he realises his mouth is empty, that Izuku is talking to him – still gently – but with purpose.

“Come up out of there now, sweetheart. I know it’s nice to drift, but I’d like you to come back and be in the world with me now, OK? OK… yes… that’s it. Oh Shouta, you’re so good. Come now sweetheart, come back…”

“Zuku?” Shouta slurs. His mouth feels wet and dry all at once. He swallows and licks his lips. “Izuku?”

“Hey there.” Izuku beams down at him. “I’m going to ask you some questions OK? Easy ones.”

“OK.”

“What’s my name?”

“Izuku,” Shouta breathes.

Izuku smiles again, indulgently.

“And your name?”

“Shouta.”

“Safe word?”

Shouta blinks twice.

“We use the colour system?”

Izuku sighs and strokes his bangs away from his face once more.

“Good boy. How are you feeling now?”

“Good.” Shouta doesn’t realise how true it is until he says it. “So good.” He loops his arms over Izuku’s thighs and slumps against his lap. “Oh-!”

“Wrists feel OK?” Izuku lifts Shouta’s hand and begins rubbing gentle circles over his knuckles. The action feels familiar, sweet, like nice deja-vu. “I didn’t really want to un-buckle you while you were in subspace, but it had been a long while, and I didn’t want you to strain anything.”

“I’m not so breakable,” Shouta replies quickly.

“I know, but it’s always best to be safe.” Izuku squeezes his fingers, Shouta squeezes back. “Do you feel up to moving? I’d like to get you warm and see you eat something. Post-scene sugar crashes aren’t fun.”

Shouta nods, and lets Izuku help him to his feet.

Izuku fills the space between them with soft chatter, with plenty of room for Shouta to interject without requiring his input, and Shouta lets himself be dressed in a warm oversized hoodie which smells like Izuku before he settles on the bed. He knows Izuku’s scent, and already he wants to snuggle down into it. Izuku sits next to him, as close as is possible, and Shouta curls up around him instantly, resting his head on Izuku’s shoulder, slotting their legs together. He takes the gummy-bear Izuku offers him and sucks it thoughtfully.

“How do you feel?” he asks eventually.

“Deeply satisfied,” Izuku replies without hesitation. He turns his head just enough to nuzzle his temple against Shouta’s brow. It’s sweetly familiar, even though Shouta knows no one has ever done it with him before. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“I couldn’t not,” Shouta says, then bites his tongue.

It’s true but Shouta hates himself for saying it, thinking it, everything. Izuku is not his soulmate, and how dare his whole body still feel so good and woozy and relaxed after their session when Izuku is not his. Shouta closes his eyes and sucks the sweet Izuku gave him and digs down into the resentment which rises in him like bile.

He loves the quiet, liminal space his mind goes to during a scene – if he’s lucky, his dom is skilled, and the scene is good – but he hates that coming back from that space means the return of everything else. Shouta listens to Izuku’s soft mumbling and the faint noises of his breathing, and part of him never wants to leave again, but a larger part feels guilty. There was someone, once, a boy with his head in the clouds, who was his soulmate, and the mean part of Shouta’s mind wonders what this would have been like with him.

And then he hates himself for that too.

Shouta sighs. He wishes he could stay in sub space for longer before reality comes crashing back in to break his good mood.

“...again?” Izuku says, though Shouta has no idea what the beginning of the question was.

Shouta blinks, and frowns at Izuku. Izuku arches an eyebrow at him, freckled cheeks plumping with a smile.

“Would you like to spend more time together? Do this again?”

Shouta stares at him.

Izuku had a good time. Izuku had a good time with him. And what Izuku said in the scene must still be true, because apparently being with Shouta is enough for him, fun for him, and Shouta feels his heart and his stomach do something swoopy and complicated and warm.

Shouta takes a breath. Izuku is not his soulmate. He needs to calm down. Even if Izuku wants and Shouta wants, that isn’t enough. Izuku might say he doesn’t have a soulmate, but such a thing is not just unlikely, it’s impossible. Shouta can’t get himself overly attached after one session, because one day, Izuku will click with his person, and Shouta wants to be happy for him when that happens.

So instead, he nods.

“I would like to, and soon,” Shouta says as he sits up. He wants to stay touching, he wants to feel close, but nothing should feel this good with someone who isn’t his person. “What would you like to try?”

“Oh… um, I didn’t have anything in mind directly.”

Shouta fixes him with a hard look, and once again, Izuku doesn’t blink, or look away, but smiles at him, like nothing gives him more pleasure than to look at Shouta. It makes Shouta feel hot and cold and twisty all at once.

Why is he having so many emotions?

“Will you hit me?”

“Shouta?”

“Impact play, please.”

Izuku brightens slightly.

“Of course. If it’s something you want, I’d like that too.” Izuku leans in, like he wants to stroke Shouta’s hair again. But he decides not to.

Shouta hates that he wishes he would.

***

Shouta

Izuku
good morning to you too Mister Whiskers

Shouta
why do you always think they are called that?

Izuku
I can’t just call them all ‘cat’

Izuku
Shouta, tell me about your Quirk?

Shouta
does this mean you didn’t do all the frenetic research Bakugo said was inevitable?

Izuku
dammit Kacchan!

Shouta
Izuku?

Shouta
Izuku, Bakugo just exploded something in the office cubicle down the hall.

Izuku
that was my fault

Shouta
should I have the agency send you the bill?

Izuku
please no

Shouta

Shouta
to answer your earlier question, there is not much I could tell you that Hero News could not.

Shouta
except one thing

Shouta
for a long time, I hated my Quirk. Sometimes, I still do.

Izuku
oh

Shouta
and not because it’s not glamorous, or flashy. it’s… very tiring

Izuku
hence the eye-sheilding effect of your goggles.

Shouta
when I was in high school, I used to watch my friends rushing around and wondered where they got all that energy.

Shouta
I wish I could be like that

Izuku
I’ve watched you fight, you have plenty of energy Shouta

Izuku
and anyway

Izuku
we all have our own strengths.

Shouta
thank you Izuku

Izuku
strengths are important, but our weaknesses are equally a part of who we are.

Izuku
You can show your weaknesses to me, Shouta.

Shouta
when did you have the time to get so wise?

Izuku
growing up alongside Kacchan was very educational

Izuku
don’t tell him I said that!

Shouta

Shouta
Izuku…

Shouta
Izuku, I got my new costume.

Shouta
you are a marvel

Izuku
you like it?

Shouta
it fits… there is no good analogy

Shouta
it’s perfect

Izuku
….

Izuku
Kacchan just sent me a picture

Shouta
bloody problem child

Izuku
I’m so glad it fits

Shouta
you took enough measurements

Izuku
the fit is very important for the effectiveness of the protection

Shouta
we’ll pretend I believe you

Shouta

Shouta
you were right about the strength of this new armour composite

Shouta
what did you say it was made from?

Izuku
it’s a synthesis of

Izuku
wait

Izuku
what did you get hit by?

Shouta
imagine if Red Riot had a gigantification Quirk too, and if he wasn’t basically a puppy.

Izuku
OMG!

Izuku
are you OK?

Shouta
You’re worried about my safety Izuku?

Izuku
you’re my partner, of course I care about you.

Izuku
I mean we’re not partners like Hero Partners obviously

Izuku
and we’re not dating

Izuku
and one scene doesn’t make a commitment and you don’t have to say anything back

Izuku
but I care about you and you’re the most magnificent sub I’ve ever gotten to play with and I just want to you to be safe

Izuku
even though your job is dangerous and I would never want to hold you back

Shouta
wow. Bakugo was right.

Shouta
you can mumble over text

Shouta

Shouta
there are so many strays around today

Shouta
they all want my lunch

Izuku
oh… is it lunch time?

Shouta
Izuku, when was the last time you took a break?

Izuku
um…

Shouta
you’re lucky you’re cute

Izuku
does that mean I’m one of your strays now?

Shouta
oh.

Shouta
um

Shouta
maybe I’m one of your strays

Izuku
then you’re the only one.

Shouta

Izuku
is it true?

Izuku
Kacchan said your sleeping bag is Quirked to be the perfect sleeping temperature

Izuku
also I just realised you’re probably teaching right now.

Izuku
sorry

Shouta
Tell Bakugo he owes me a drink for divulging state secrets

Izuku
that’s so cool!!

Izuku
But I can do you one better

Shouta
oh?

Shouta
(also yes, class is in session. But I gave them a quiz, so they are mercifully quiet right now)

Izuku
give me your sleeping bag

Izuku
I’ll upgrade the whole thing with this new material that weighs as much as light silk, but it feels like a weighted blanket.

Izuku
it’s genius.

Shouta
did Hatsume invent it?

Izuku
no

Izuku
so it doesn’t have unscheduled disassembly issues

Shouta
😍 Yes please.

Shouta

Shouta
would you rather know you had a soulmate but you couldn’t be with them, or not know at all?

Izuku
wow, right in with the big questions this morning sweetheart.

Shouta
sorry

Shouta
if you don’t want to talk-

Izuku
it’s fine

Izuku
I’ve had my whole life to get used to not having a soulmate.

Izuku
I don’t remember a time before I knew that I wasn’t like everyone else.

Izuku
so…

Izuku
as to your question, I think I would rather know, even if we couldn’t be together.

Shouta
oh

Izuku
what brought this on?

Shouta
I-

Shouta
if you asked me, I would say the same as you. I would rather know for sure.

Izuku
Shouta?

Shouta
there was… someone. Back when I was a student at UA and not a teacher.

Shouta
I think he was my- person.

Izuku
What happened to him?

Shouta
he died.

Shouta
I never saw his soulmark, so I don’t know for sure.

Shouta
but-

Izuku
I’m sorry Shouta.

Shouta
it’s not something you should be sorry about

Izuku
doesn’t matter. I’m still sorry.

Shouta
oh.

Shouta
thank you.

Izuku
for a long time, I didn’t think I was worth anything. No soulmark, then no Quirk

Izuku
no one like me could be worth loving.

Shouta
Izuku…

Izuku
It’s alright Shouta, I know better than that now

Izuku
I might not have a Quirk and I might not have a soulmark, but I’m not good for nothing

Shouta
I’m glad.

Izuku
Wow

Izuku
this was a pretty heavy conversation.

Izuku
why don’t you tell me what I should make for dinner?

Shouta
Bakugo says you can’t cook.

Shouta
He is here now, inexplicably.

Shouta
he has no manners and tries to read over everyone’s shoulders.

Izuku
Kacchan is such a gossip

Izuku
but he denies it.

Shouta
yes.

Shouta
he’s shouting now. There are small explosions.

Shouta
it’s OK, Eijiro is taking him away.

Izuku
their quirks are compatible.

Shouta
their quirks are compatible.

Shouta

Izuku
awww

Izuku
look at them! So fluffy!

Shouta
so I was thinking, next time, I want you to fuck me.

Izuku
I really hope I can shake the association of cute cat pics with unexpected erections

Izuku
this is not a pavlovian response I want to have

Shouta
focus please Izuku

Izuku
I’m trying to find a response which isn’t over eager

Izuku
oh well I guess that kind of covers it then

Izuku
oops

Shouta
so that’s a yes?

Izuku
yes

Izuku
do a new ‘want to feel’ sheet and send it to me?

Shouta
yes Sir

Izuku
oh fuck

Izuku
I can no longer stand up from my desk and I’m supposed to go to a client meeting

Shouta
sorry Sir

Izuku
not helping!

Izuku

Shouta
oh look at that sweet thing

Izuku
they look like you

Shouta
😳

Izuku
I could always call you Kitten if you like

Shouta
absolutely not

Shouta
no

Shouta
um…

Izuku
bye kitten, see you tomorrow.

***

Izuku mentally runs through the contents of his knapsack as he raises a finger to press Shouta’s buzzer. He packed, un-packed, and re-packed a whole bunch of times before he headed over here. He has Shouta’s list for the session, has his lube, two sets of cuff options, a chest harness, a paddle, a rattan cane, and three different lotions – aloe, honey, and arnica with coconut. He’s nervous, but the fast fluttering of his heart isn’t just nerves. Izuku doesn’t remember the last time he was this excited.

He told Shouta to choose his favourite plug, and even over that one short phone call, it was so easy and natural feeling to slip into his dominant persona. Just like when he was measuring Shouta for his new Hero costume, only now, Izuku knows what Shouta looks like nearly naked, and the sense memory of how warm and soft Shouta’s mouth was around his cock has Izuku twitching and chubbing up in his cargo shorts.

In his pocket, he has a cock ring waiting – easier access than his knapsack – and Izuku fingers the stretchy silicone nervously as he waits for the door to open.

“Izuku.”

“Hey there, Kitten.”

Face to face, the pet name has Shouta flushing all the way up from the stretched-loose neck of his black t-shirt all the way to the roots of his hair. Izuku grins.

“Can I come in?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Izuku shoulders his bag and makes sure to trace his free hand over Shouta’s hip as he steps into the genkan. He hopes he does not imagine the way Shouta shudders at the touch.

Shouta’s house is bigger than Izuku’s apartment, nicer too. A good mix of traditional and western design elements, and Izuku catches sight of a bathroom with a large rainfall shower as he is lead through to the bedroom. He would really like to get Shouta in that shower, all wet and shiny and soft. Maybe later.

“Well then Kitten, let’s have a good look at you.”

Shouta strips for him in easy, practised motions. He’s not slow and sensual, it’s not a tease, but he knows how to turn his body to present his best angles, knows to glance at Izuku through those thick dark lashes. Izuku puts his bag on the bed and leans against the wall with one shoulder, folding his arms over his chest as he watches Shouta finally slip out of his underwear and kick them aside.

“Gorgeous,” Izuku says, and Shouta ducks behind his bangs and flushes pink across the cheeks.

Izuku steps forward, one hand back in his pocket, playing with the cock ring, and sweeps his gaze over Shouta. He wants to be even closer, to stroke Shouta all over, to trace all his scars and kiss each and every inch of his body. But he holds himself back. That’s not why he’s here, and Izuku needs to get his crush under control.

He takes Shouta’s chin between his thumb and curled knuckle, and lifts Shouta’s gaze to meet his own.

“You are gorgeous, Shouta Aizawa.”

Shouta shivers all over, but Izuku doesn’t let him look away. It’s so easy to slide into his dominant persona, so simple to just exert his will on someone as perfect and willing as Shouta is. He holds Shouta’s gaze, and Shouta’s cheeks become a little bit pinker until he says:

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good,” Izuku praises warmly. “That’s so good.”

He walks around Shouta, a tight little circle, still playing with the silicone cock ring in his pocket, and Shouta whines, and then cuts the sound off like he wishes he hadn’t made it.

“Something you need, Kitten?”

Shouta bites his lip.

“I don’t want to be the only one naked,” he mutters.

“I like it when you ask for what you want Shouta,” Izuku replies. “It makes me happy.”

Shouta blinks up at him, and oh gods could those eyes get any bigger or darker? Izuku feels like he’s already fallen into them.

“Do you like to make me happy, Kitten?”

Shouta nods, quick and wobbly, and it makes Izuku’s chest swell with pride.

This is his comfort zone, his happy place. This is the easiest and most important thing in his life. He loves bringing a willing sub under his sway, loves to make them feel good, special, cared for. Izuku knows what he is doing, but it’s never been this easy to just slip into the right head-space.

And yet... Shouta is someone else’s soulmate. This gorgeous man isn’t meant for Izuku, and no amount of wanting is going to change that. But it doesn’t mean Izuku needs to think about that now.

Now is for pulling his t-shirt off over his head, and slipping the cock ring from his pocket before he steps out of his jeans. Shouta sees him, intense eyes zeroing in with professional laser focus on the brightly coloured silicone.

“I’m going to get you feeling so good Kitten,” Izuku promises. “Why don’t you show me which plug you picked out?”

Shouta’s cheeks pink very slightly, but he turns obediently. It almost physically hurts to look away, but Izuku needs to get the cock-ring on before his interested chub gets too excited. There’s no amount of practice which would allow him to complete the necessary motions without snapping the tight band against his balls unless he’s looking. But it only takes a moment, and Izuku looks up and grins with a deep, hot flush of satisfaction to see his sub presenting himself with perfect textbook poise.

Izuku reaches out and drags his hand – the whole thing, warm palm, crooked fingers, and calloused thumb – down the dip of Shouta’s spine, over the soft curve of his arse, parting his cheeks a little more to look at him.

Shouta is beautifully groomed, and the base of the plug he’s wearing is clear glass cut through with a swirl of green iridescent mica. Izuku takes the base between his fingers and gives it a little wiggle and tug. Shout moans.

“Pretty Kitten. You did just what I asked, you make me so happy.”

A long breath shudders out of Shouta, and it effects Izuku even more than his delicious moan. He squeezes Shouta’s arse again, giving into the sensation of skin on skin, and he feels Shouta quiver in anticipation under his hand.

“Kneel on the bed,” Izuku commands, and Shouta just goes, flowing like water. The hit of power is intoxicating. “You will count?”

“Yes Sir.”

Izuku smiles.

“Decide a number, Kitten.”

Shouta bites back a tiny whimper, but not fast enough for Izuku not to hear it. He steps up to the bed, sits, weaves his fingers into Shouta’s hair and pulls him close until their foreheads touch.

“This is the last decision you have to make Shouta. I’ve got you. I promise.”

“OK.”

Izuku watches Shouta take and release a deep breath, eyelashes fluttering shut. He’s letting go.

“Eighteen.”

“That’s it. Well done.”

Izuku sees the way Shouta begins to bristle with the irritation of praise which was not earned, and he halts the emotion by bringing his hand down hard on Shouta’s arse. The angle is imperfect from and not at Izuku’s full strength, but enough to have Shouta gasping in shock. Smug, Izuku stands, rubs the place where his hand impacted, and then hits Shouta again.

“You should be counting, Kitten.”

“Two!” Shouta gasps, desperate.

Izuku beams and squeezes the soft flesh of Shouta’s arse to indicate that he heard him. That note of panic in Shouta’s voice is tragic but also delicious; he’s scared that he’s fucked up and that Izuku will stop. Izuku needs to reassure Shouta that he is not like other doms. He doesn’t lose patience easily. He brings his hand down swiftly on Shouta’s other cheek, rubs a soothing circle, and settles into a rhythm of stinging impacts and warm, grounding touches, punctuated with Shouta’s gasps and grunted counting.

“Eighteen.”

“Beautiful,” Izuku croons. “So gorgeous for me, Kitten.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Izuku strokes over Shouta’s flaming cheeks, faintly hot to the touch, and presses on the base of the glass plug. Shouta whines, but it’s a wanting noise, not a sated one. Shouta looks good, his lashes are wet and his mouth hangs open, but Izuku can tell that his sub isn’t quite there yet. Shouta needs something more to reach that hazy, lovely place he found before when he was bound, on his knees with Izuku’s cock in his mouth

Shouta said in their negotiations that he wanted treatment which would leave marks that last. Izuku knows Shouta has time off from work. That he needs this.

And Izuku always has been a people pleaser. He is very firmly of the opinion that it makes him a good dom. It’s not enough to just exert power and control over someone, he has to use those skills to bring them to a pinnacle of pleasure, with sensations they cannot reach on their own. The euphoric rush of achieving that is worth any number of hours of preparation and planning.

Izuku promised Shouta no more decisions, so he gathers pillows and places them under Shouta’s hips, taking the time to arrange his hard cock and soft, lovely balls between his thighs.

“That’s is Kitten, just relax for me.” Izuku pets down Shouta’s spine again. “Down. Well done Shouta, so obedient. You make me very happy.” Izuku cannot resist the temptation of ruffling Shouta’s hair. He knows he shouldn’t indulge his crush, but it’s hard when Shouta is so pliant and sweet like this. “I’m so proud to have such a good sub.”

Izuku takes up the cane from his bag and swishes it through the air, keeping one hand resting over Shouta’s tail-bone. Shouta doesn’t even flinch.

“You don’t have to count now Kitten. Just feel. You remember your colours?”

“Yes, Sir.” Shouta’s voice sounds softer already, further away. Izuku smiles: he’s already started to relax, let go, trust that Izuku will follow through with his promises. “Green, Sir.”

“Perfect.”

Izuku stands straight, breathes, settles the leather grip of the cane in his hand, and strikes. The pink welt blooms quickly, a lovely stripe across already tender flesh, deeply bruised but the skin unbroken. Shouta cries out, spine taught from the waist up, but his hips, his arse, his lovely thighs, are exactly where Izuku positioned him.

“Beautiful,” Izuku tells him, and brings down the cane again.

The second marks falls right under the first, perfect parallel stripes, and Shouta moans, the tension dropping out of him already. Izuku wants to trace those marks, those pretty red lines, but what Shouta needs right now isn’t a soothing touch. He needs it to hurt.

“Gorgeous.”

Izuku hits three times in quick succession, leaving three lovely stripes across Shouta’s other arse cheek. Shouta slumps over the cushions, face turned towards Izuku, and his mouth shapes moans and wails which barely even whisper out of his throat. His eyes are unfocused, half closed.

“Sweet Kitten. Colour?”

Shouta’s lips twitch.

“Green…” He sounds woozy, pleasure drunk. “Please, Sir…”

“Shhhh… no begging, no. You’re so perfect Kitten. So good for me.”

Shouta whines, and so Izuku strikes him again, watching the pain of the impact twist into pleasure, Shouta’s body becoming more lax and sweetly receptive in response. The next hit marks his upper thigh, thin skin, and Izuku knows he needs to stop soon.

Just a little more, just enough to get Shouta to really let go, just enough to feel that rush of pleasure. Izuku sets his grip, his stance, and lashes the cane down to the other side of Shouta’s perfect, reddened arse, leaving a new stripe on unmarked skin. Shouta sobs, and Izuku’s belly clenches with heat even as his head spins.

He stares as his handiwork, his instincts screaming at him to stop, to lay down the cane, to get a salve, to tend to Shouta; to coddle and cuddle him, and tell him that everything will be alright. But that’s not what Shouta wants, not what he asked for. And even if it was, the cold comfort of someone not your soulmate is a poor substitute for the real thing.

Izuku hits Shouta again, his sub’s pleasure pulling at him. Lust rising under his skin. But still he thinks that if Shouta’s soulmate ever found out about this, ever knew what Izuku did, then that person would hate Izuku for hurting Shouta. To see someone else’s soulmate like this, so deliriously close to the precipice of desire and delirium, is not something Izuku deserves.

There is no one Izuku deserves. He doesn’t have a soulmate.

He brings the cane down, but he’s distracted and the impact misses his mark by a fraction and crosses already struck skin. The welt is far darker, and Shouta wails.

Izuku opens his mouth to speak, but Shouta is shaking, breaths ragged, and Izuku watches in awe as he spills his orgasm out between his marked-up thighs.

“Good. Good Kitten. That’s so gorgeous. You did just as I asked.” Izuku gasps the words, heat rising in his loins. He did it, he treated his sub exactly right, just as Shouta trusted him to: he’s a good dom.

But the euphoria doesn’t come, the flooding rush of heat and pleasure is missing, and Izuku sits down too hard on the bed, only half aware of the way Shouta reaches for him instantly.

“Perfect, Shouta,” Izuku says, answering a question Shouta only frames with his dark gaze.

Shouta crawls into Izuku’s lap, and Izuku’s hands reach instantly to the hot, red flesh, tracing the marks of his cane, knowing that they tingle and sting. Shouta hisses between his teeth then moans in his throat. Izuku finds the base of the plug, so smooth and hard, grips it, and eases it from Shouta’s abused body. Shouta cries out, mouth right by Izuku’s ear, and for a long moment Izuku’s scrambled brain can’t tell if it’s a good noise or not.

It is not a noise someone who doesn’t have a soulmate deserves to hear, that’s for sure.

Izuku drops the plug, greedy fingers ready going to Shouta’s hole, tracing the shape of him, playing with the soft, puffy skin of his rim, the slick of lube, the sweet open gape. Izuku wants to fuck him, but that’s not something he should be allowed to do, Shouta isn’t really his.

Shouta is woozy in his lap, euphoric, giddy in sub-space. His long arms are looped around Izuku’s shoulders, fingers playing at the nape of his neck, and as Shouta cuddles closer into his lap he tilts his face towards Izuku’s. It is only with a last minute flinch that the kiss grazes Izuku’s jaw instead of his lips.

Shouta whines, tries again, Izuku leans in to nuzzle his hair and the crook of his neck, making sure that Shouta cannot kiss him. It works for a moment, but Shouta whines, a little frustrated now, and Izuku knows he cannot hold him off much longer.

But he is not here to fall in love with Shouta. Shouta isn’t his. No one is his. Izuku is a violent monster; he must be, because Shouta’s skin is inflamed and tender, and he winces when he moves. And yet still he tries to press wet kisses to Izuku’s mouth and Izuku-

The first sob is a shock, the second is worse, and then Izuku cannot see through the host of tears crowding his eyes and spiling wetly down his cheeks. He tries to breathe, but can’t. Awful hot shame crashes over him, dropping him so far from the endorphin-high he was expecting, plunging him down into something dark and cold and inescapable.

“Sir?” Shouta’s voice is soft, hazy. “Sir? Izuku?” Less hazy now, tinged with panic. “Izuku!”

Izuku breaks down the centre. He couldn’t even hold his own stupid overthinking brain together and now he’s ruined the scene for his sub as well. He really is a monster. Markless. Someone who doesn’t deserve a soulmate.

“Izuku, Izuku-” Shouta is still in his lap, crowded close, hands cupping under Izuku’s chin to look at his face. “Everything is OK. I’m fine. Everything is fine, Izuku.”

Izuku hates every word. None of them are true. He can’t bear to stay here, but he cannot move. His body isn’t connected to his brain. He still can’t breathe in anything other than awful grating retches.

“Oh Izuku,” Shouta croons, “don’t cry.”

Shouta’s brow furrows, thin browns drawn together, and Izuku can’t look away. He’ll never get another chance to see Shouta like this, but he is greedy and evil and he drags out the moment even though it hurts. Shouta uses both thumbs to wipe Izuku’s tears from his cheeks and just like that, the universe explodes.

Heat, bright lightning, prickles of pleasure and pain and knowledge. The noise of another person’s heart beating in his own chest, beside his own heart, and a tug which has them toppling sideways into the bed. Shouta’s eyes are bright, but now he’s crying too.

“Shouta,” Izuku says, and he feels the way Shouta’s pulse jumps, excited and delighted that Izuku is here with him right now. And not because they are chest to chest, but because Izuku’s pulse does that same little skip under his skin. “Wha-” he starts.

Shouta wipes the pad of his thumb over Izuku’s cheek again, like his trying to rub away his freckles, and pleasure sparkles through the touch, enough to make Izuku’s toes curl.

“It’s you.”

“It’s- I’m- Huh?” It is not Izuku’s proudest or most eloquent moment, but the mad see-saw from despair to unexplained pleasure and joy has him doubting if Shouta is still speaking a language Izuku understands.

“It’s you, Izuku.” Another press – thumb to cheek – and Izuku feels dizzy with the rush of bright happiness. “You’re my soulmate.”

“But- But I don’t have a soulmark.”

“Yes! You do. And you wear them right out in the open.”

And before Izuku can stop him, Shouta leans in and presses a kiss to Izuku’s tear-damp cheek. Izuku feels the press of lips to freckles like a brand, and his brain shakes about in his skull and everything slots into place.

His freckles.

His freckles which are too dark and too symmetrical. Freckles he didn’t inherit from either parent. Freckles which aren’t anywhere else on his body at all.

They aren’t freckles at all.

They’re soulmarks.

Izuku grabs Shouta’s hand, pulls it close and stares at the little green star on Shouta’s thumb.

“It’s glowing.”

“I’ve been assured it stops after the first day or so.”

“Am I glowing?”

“Yes.” Shouta’s eyes crinkle in the corners. “Oh Izuku, you’re so beautiful.”

Shouta kisses him. Kisses him like the world could end and he would not even notice. Kisses him without a thought for drawing breath. Kisses him for an immeasurable amount of time. Kisses him like he’s in love.

“I love you,” Izuku finds the words spilling out of him into the meagre space between them. “I love you.”

“I know. I love you too,” Shouta replies. There is no undertone in his voice, but Izuku can feel a pang of sadness, and he knows it’s not his own.

“Shouta?”

Shouta frowns.

“I really can’t keep anything to myself now, can I?” he rolls his eyes and huffs, but not because he’s annoyed. He thinks it is sort of funny.

And Izuku can tell. Tell, not guess. Because they are connected.

“I spent so long thinking I’d lost my soulmate. Missing him. Wishing I had…. I loved him, Izuku. I still love the memory of him.” Shouta says the words like he expects Izuku to push him away, but when he finishes, Izuku waits, and sees the realisation come into Shouta’s eyes that everything he’s feeling from Izuku is the same as it was before he’d started speaking.

“Shouta… that makes you a good person. It doesn’t mean I love you any less or differently. It’s part of who you are.”

“You’re too pure for me,” Shouta chuckles. “I don’t deserve you.”

“The universe literally says you’re wrong about that, Kitten.”

Shouta pouts at him, and Izuku kisses the expression from his lips. They groan, sinking into each other, and Izuku rolls Shouta onto his back, crowding over him, kissing all the while.

Izuku feels the reflected pain before Shouta’s hiss and flinch, but he feels the pleasure too, the coiling hot snake of pride in his soulmate’s gut when he imagines the marks he wears.

“Kitten…”

“Green,” Shouta replies. “Izuku- Sir- please-”

Izuku is not the kind of dom who resists his sub’s desires. His whole thing is fulfilling each of those desires until his sub is overstimulated and floaty. And he certainly can’t resist his soulmate. Izuku squeezes Shouta’s hip, his tender arse, eats the sharp whine of pain from his mouth, and slides his fingers into Shouta’s slick and ready hole.

It’s like no sex Izuku’s ever had, because he can feel what Shouta feels, understands what he should do to bring his sub closer to delirium in the same moment that Shouta feels and thinks it, and by the time Izuku is sinking his cock into that soft, wet heat, Shouta’s tummy is smeared with pre.

“Gorgeous. Beautiful Kitten. So perfect. So good for me.”

“H-” Shouta starts, but Izuku fucks the broken syllable loose from his tongue and turns it into a scream.

The smack of flesh on flesh, the heat radiating from Shouta’s tender arse, his broken throated wails, the way Izuku can feel his soulmate’s cock throbbing where it’s pressed between them. Izuku feels feral and in better control than ever. He touches his forehead to Shouta’s – a point of stability as he fucks him with passionate abandon – and Shouta rubs their soulmarks together.

Love.

As clear as if one of them had spoken. A feeling which lances through him, undeniable, burning, perfect.

Everything Izuku is, every little fear and doubt, every scar and mark from his past, Shouta loves him. Because of who he is, not in spite of it.

And Shouta knows Izuku loves him just the same.

Izuku kisses his soulmate, fierce, driving himself deep, pounding Shouta into the mattress until the wood of the bed creaks in protest. He feels Shouta clench around him, knows that his sub is going to come right before it happens, and shudders through his own orgasm directly after, panting and shaking, hips still half thrusting as he spills himself into his soulmate.

They breathe together, loud in the silent room, sweaty and gross and utterly in love.

“I didn’t even get to put you in the harness I picked out,” Izuku says, his brain apparently firing on all of it’s usual cylinders once again.

Shouta laughs, and pulls him close, tucking his face into Izuku’s neck.

“Next time, Izuku. Next time.”

Izuku sighs, smiling so broadly it makes his soulmarks ache, because they have each other, and now there is always going to be a next time.

***

Shouta would like to just be home already. If there was ever a Quirk he was envious of, it would be teleportation, because two hours into his street patrol he is bored and his lower back aches something fierce. Shouta wants to click his fingers and be home with all of the dull minutiae of post-patrol debrief and chores completed already. Alas, it is not to be, and Shouta turns left around the next street corner.

A moment later, Bakugo falls into step beside him.

“I thought we were doing Mitsue District, Old Man?”

“More going on in Shimokanzo anyway.”

Bakugo arches an eyebrow at him.

“The fuck? Since when did you want more action during a patrol shift?” Bakugo tsks. “You are just after more cats to make friends with.”

“I do not collect strays,” Shouta protests.

“No, but they collect you.” Bakugo’s grin turns into a smirk. A familiar expression Shouta knows well from years of teaching him – Bakugo is up to something.

Shouta’s thumbs tingle, and he starts to tap them against his fingertips – a habit he picked up in childhood and never quite got over – but the sensation only grows.

“Three,” Bakugo says, grinning like the smug, self-satisfied bastard Shouta has always known he is, “Two… one…. And- there he is.”

“Hey Shouta.”

Spring air, touched with hot lightning, a sweet breeze, the thudding of another heart in his ribcage, alongside his own. Shouta still isn’t used to this feeling. He doesn’t think he ever will be.

He turns, and Izuku is there, with his wide bright smile, gorgeous eyes, and perfect dark freckles that Shouta cannot help but reach out and stroke with both thumbs. They both shiver bodily with the frisson of pleasure which accompanies the gesture.

“Soulbonding in public,” Katsuki scoffs, “my oh my, how the mighty have fallen.”

“Kacchan…” Izuku complains, but he’s smiling.

“Oh, not you Deku. Sensei here gave me and Ei shit literally every time we even tried to soulbond in class.”

“I beg you, please do not call me that any more,” Shouta sighs.

“Eewww!” Bakugo overreacts like a teenager – some things never change – and bounces away from them, up onto a street sign. He kicks his heels like he isn’t a top twenty ranked Pro-Hero. “Old Man, do not make me imagine you begging. Fuck no.”

“Kacchan, don’t be a prude,” Izuku admonishes.

His eyes lock on Shouta’s, and whatever Bakugo is saying doesn’t matter, because Izuku is here.

“Hey,” Izuku says quietly, voice soft. Shouta hears the sweet little term of endearment even though Izuku doesn’t say it aloud. He shivers in response. “So good for me.”

Shouta exhales the breath he didn’t realise he was holding, and leans in to close the distance between them. Izuku is absolutely the dominant one between them, but it’s Shouta who always wants more and more kisses.

Izuku indulges him happily, and Shouta feels safe, calm, assured, in the circle of Izuku’s arms around his waist, his warm, solid body pressing against Shouta’s front, and the spark of his soulmark under Shouta’s thumb.

“What the heck are you even doing here Freckles?” Bakugo snarls lazily from his street sign perch. He’s like a cat lounging in a tree- oh gods, Shouta really does collect stray cats, no wonder that of all his former students, Bakugo is the one he still gets along with.

“Bento!” Izuku chirps happily. He squeezes ever so quickly around Shouta’s wrist. “There are consequences for not taking care of yourself, Shouta.”

Shouta gulps, throat clicking. Izuku’s consequences are scary – not because they hurt – but because Izuku has far more willpower to resist Shouta than Shouta thought possible.

He takes the bento, and Izuku beams.

“Good Kitten.”

“Another kiss?” Shouta asks hopefully.

Izuku half turns, as though considering stepping away, and Shouta’s insides lurch. He grabs the hem of Izuku’s shirt, already reaching out to soulbound again.

Just because they’ve found each other, doesn’t erase everything that came before. Some days, Shouta wishes it did, but other days he’s glad of his memories, even the painful ones. He wouldn’t be the man Izuku loves without them.

Izuku bites his lip, pink cheeks under his perfect, dark freckles and turns back again, drawing Shouta close, and treats him to one more utterly perfect, soul searing kiss.