fuck off!!🙆🏽‍♀️🖤

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Jihyun tugs you through the crowd, hand entwined with yours as he leads you to the back of the club and into a single restroom. Once the door shuts behind him and he tugs on it to make sure it’s locked, you’re seated on the sink, pressed up against the dirty mirror, purse and keys clattering onto the tile.

“What do you want from me?” he mumbles as he presses his face into your collar, fitting himself in between your knees. The vibration of his voice tumbles into your ears and down the length of your spine, spinning the weight in your stomach into a typhoon.

“Everything.”

He smiles, cruel and hungry at the way you reflexively wrap your legs around his waist and tug him down by his hair to kiss him.

You savor his lips, caressing the line of his cupid’s bow, tongue flicking over the corner of his mouth. You can’t stop kissing him, hands tug his hair harder and your teeth pinch his bottom lip. Jihyun responds by growling softly, biting you back, squeezing your thighs before easing you to the edge of the sink, pressing his hardness against your panties.

Trembling, you slip your hands under his button up and touch the smooth planes of his torso, the ridges in his abdomen and the way they contract under your touch. Breathless and wild, he weaves one hand in between your bodies, slips it under your skirt to feel your center. Your underwear is soaked; has been since you were grinding on his thigh in the middle of the dancefloor.

“Baby,” he sighs into your neck, begins to slide his digits up and down, getting the slippery wetness all over his fingers. “Already so wet...”

A shudder rolls through your body upon hearing his words and you arch into his touch, moaning when he rubs your clit in perfect pulsing circles. He moves forward, kissing the tops of your breasts above your blouse, nipping at the soft flesh.

Soft moans and damp gasps, he works his way into you, fingers first. One, then two, then three because he’s always captivated by the way you unravel for him so quickly. Doesn’t even care about himself most times, even though you plead with me, Jihyun, come with me.

“Feel good?” Jihyun asks, voice raspy. You’re a mess now, hips stuttering against his hand as you gasp and keen and whimper.

You do. Oh, you do, and he knows. He knows everything about you and knows exactly what you want when you writhe this way. The mischievous chuckle that pours from his throat vibrates against your chest.

“I’ll give it to you,” he mumbles against your lips before he reaches down and undoes his pants, tugs them down enough to grip his cock in one hand and moves your panties to the side with the other, hips inching closer and straightening himself until you’re aligned perfectly.

Strong and velvet, easily slick with wet from how he’s coaxed you open, he slides in. All the way. That swell. That hurt. The throb of him pumping into you. His voice, quaking just a little bit, simmering low and then broken; sung praises and ramblings of a man far gone as he moves inside you.

Hips rolling this way and that, bucking slow but steady, and hard, too, his pelvis flush against yours with each contact. Your fingertips dig gently to anchor yourself.

You swallow his voice, his rhythm, still greedy for more because you need him—open, taken, devastated.

“Take all of me,” he whispers, “I want you to have it all.”

Jihyun. Jihyun. Jihyun.

He holds fast one final time, kissing your crumbling mouth, quivering, lips swollen and kiss-bruised. All of you and all of him folding in over each other, dashing yourselves onto an undoing so complete you burst apart. And then, he plummets, too, shuddering and wrecked; he smiles softly against your mouth – sweet and lopsided and beautiful.

Entirely yours.

Toshinori heard the shower and the faint sound of your favorite music coming from the bathroom as he shut the front door behind him. He smiled softly to himself – even just the thought of you always had that effect on him. When he made his way into the kitchen, following the scent of something delicious, he found that you’d saved him a plate of the dinner you’d made. And – as always, whenever he had to stay late at UA – a little note, encouraging him to go ahead and eat, and telling him that you love him. 

Despite the flavor of the food, it was hurriedly and haphazardly eaten. The ache in the older man’s bones was a more pressing matter than savoring the food, and he wasted no further time in heading to the bedroom, stripping down to a t-shirt and boxers, and climbing into bed to wait on you. 

An “everything shower.” That’s what you’d called it one day, when the task took considerably longer than a normal shower. Toshinori suspected that’s what was going on, so he allowed himself a moment to begin looking over emails and some papers he needed to grade. 

When the water shut off, he called out to you to let you know he was home, and you greeted him cheerfully in response. But he knew to not expect you for a bit – especially after he once watched your post-shower routine. 

Toshinori was focused on reading the last student essay when he heard you enter the bedroom. Determined to finish it and put that behind him, he called out “Hi, honey” with his eyes glued to the messy handwriting on the page. 

“Hi. Grading papers?” you replied sweetly, and your husband nodded. 

“This is the last one. I’ll be done in a moment, I promise,” he assured you, and you hummed in response. From his peripheral vision, Toshinori saw you move to your vanity, and a slight jolt went through him when he realized what you were about to do. 

Lotion. That jasmine-scented lotion someone had gifted you, that he adored. And, most importantly, he couldn’t get enough of watching the way you applied it. Toshinori felt like a bit of a weirdo for it, but something about the way you rubbed it into your soft, sweet legs made his chest warm up every time. 

Opting to steal a glance before returning to the essay, Toshinori granted himself a peek at you – only to find himself doing a genuine, honest-to-God double-take. 

Light blue lace cupped your breasts, a bit of the supple flesh threatening to spill out over the top of the cups with the way you were bent at the hips to lather the lotion into your legs. Thin, gauzy material of the same color cascaded around your torso. As he followed it down, down to where it stopped at your hips, he caught a glimpse of the matching thong panties you had on underneath. 

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. I went shopping today. Saw this cute nightgown in the mall. What do you think?” you asked, as nonchalant as could be, as though you had no idea what you were doing to him.

Toshinori was only vaguely aware that he scribbled an A onto the top of the essay before setting it on the stack of papers on his nightstand. Slowly, as though he thought he was dreaming and any sudden movement would wake himself up, he rose from the bed and came over to you, his boxers seeming to grow tighter with every step.

He stood dumbly beside you, fingers twitching at his sides, for several moments. You fought back a giggle as you asked, “You alright, honey?”

“It’s beautiful. You – you’re beautiful,” Toshinori managed to choke out, his voice a mere whisper. You murmured your thanks, but he hadn’t snapped quite enough for you to want to drop the nonchalant act yet. However, when a hand rose to hover near your waist, and he nearly whimpered, “Can… can I touch you? Please, sweetheart, I – I need to touch you.”

You stood up straight then – done with the lotion, and done with pretending you didn’t know what you were doing. The smirk on your lips told Toshinori that much. 

“Of course, baby.”

Toshinori dove in to kiss you with all the ardor and adoration of a man who’s been lost at sea for a year. His arms circled your waist, massive hands splayed across your back at first, before they allowed themselves to wander. It seemed as though they were in a mindless frenzy – your hips, your ass, your breasts – but never too frenzied to focus on kissing you with such passion that your knees grew weak.

“Go lay on the bed, Toshi. You’ve had a long day – let me take care of you,” you purred into the shell of his ear. He groaned, but you felt him shake his head. 

“N-No, honey, you… you dressed up so pretty for me. I want to thank you for it,” Toshinori argued, then began kissing down your neck. “Besides… I haven’t had any dessert yet.”

Everything between him saying that and how you currently found yourself was a blur. The thong had disappeared the moment your back hit the bed, but the babydoll top remained. You were vaguely aware that you’d cum once already – or was it twice? – but your husband showed no signs of stopping. 

His thick blonde hair was as messed up as it could possibly be, from your fingers raking through and pulling on it, and you could faintly see a flush across his cheeks. But the way his brows pinched together, the way he was moaning into your soaked pussy, the way he was rutting his hips into the mattress – all showed how engrossed in his work he was. 

Toshinori never ate you out merely as preparation for sex – he ate you out because it was his favorite goddamn thing on the planet. And it showed. 

“Toshi – oh my god, Toshi, baby –” you whimpered, attempting to warn him that you were about to cum again. But the way he groaned with his lips wrapped around your clit when you said his name, caused all every word you’ve ever known to vacate your mind. 

“I’ve got you, I’m here,” your husband murmured, and you scarcely heard him over your own sounds. Toshinori’s fingers maintained their perfect pace as they thrust in and out of your slick cunt, and he was practically making out with your clit, alternating between sucking on it and swirling his tongue around it. When he spoke again, the pitiful, desperate lilt of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. 

“Please – please cum for me, honey. I want it – I need it,” the former number one hero begged and pleaded, right against his beloved wife’s throbbing clit. 

If you had a little extra sense left, you’d have noticed the way his hips were bucking more wildly into the mattress now.

Then again, he didn’t have enough sense left to notice it either – entirely pussydrunk for his wife.

Voice hoarse, you cried out his name once more, hips bucking wildly against Toshinori’s face as you came. Only this time, you squirted – soaking his pretty face with your juices, and the pitiful, whiny moan he let out was the most incredible sound you’d ever heard. His fingers dug deeper into the soft flesh of your thigh, from the arm he kept wrapped around a leg to hold you somewhat still, and he breathed out your name before his hips stilled.

Toshinori went limp, resting his cheek against your thigh and breathing heavily. The feeling of his warm breath on your bare pussy nearly made you clamp your legs around his head, but the realization of what just happened kept you still.

Slowly, a smile spread across your face. “Baby, did you –?”

“Yes. Hush,” he grumbled, not sure he could bear any potential teasing from you. You felt his face heat up against your thigh, burning with embarrassment. 

Opting to take pity on the retiree, your smile remained but you said nothing else. You carefully removed yourself out from under him, and he let you – under the pretense that you were both done. And when you silently turned him over onto his back – subsequently revealing the dark, wet patch on the front of his boxers – his eyes shot open. 

“Wha– what are you doing, my love?” Toshinori questioned, but didn’t stop you as you pulled his ruined boxers down and off of him. He sucked in a breath through his teeth when the cold air of the bedroom hit his still-twitching cock, and found his fists balling into the comforter as he watched you climb onto the bed to straddle him. 

The way your warm cunt rested atop his leaking, oversensitive length. The way your manicured nails gently scraped down his chest as you smiled down at him like a predator who’d caught her prey. The way everything was too hot, too cold, too much, and not enough – all at once. Fuck, it was all nearly more than Toshinori could handle – and you hadn’t even done anything to him yet.

But above all, what sent him spiraling the most? Every single goddamn time?

It was the way you made him feel wholly and truly desired – in a way he had once feared he’d never experience again, after his injury. 

“You’re thinking too much again,” you murmured, and the low tone of your voice had Toshinori’s breathing growing heavier. Before he could form another thought, you reached between your bodies to grasp his still-hard cock then sunk down on it. 

The groans that fell from both of you were absolutely sinful. Toshinori’s hands flew to your hips on reflex, fingertips digging in as you set a steady, rhythmic pace. He had half a mind to be embarrassed by the way his thighs were already trembling after just a few minutes of you riding him, but you didn’t give him a chance to dwell on it. Your hips picked up speed, and Toshinori thought he was going to die on the spot when your soft hand gripped his jaw and turned his head to face you.

“Look at me, Toshi.”

Fuck, he hadn’t even noticed that the overwhelming pleasure was causing him to turn his head away, into the pillow. It was as though half of him were trying to get away from the delicious burn of overstimulation, while the other half – the large hands squeezing your hips like it was the only thing keeping him on Earth, the hips weakly bucking up to meet your thrusts – was absolutely thriving in it. 

But he did as you bade him – as always. But God, the pretty blue lace and mesh still adorning your body, the way your brow furrowed in pleasure, the fucked-out look on your face despite riding him within an inch of his life – it was about to send him over the edge.

“S-Shit honey, I-I’m gonna – I can’t – I need you,” Toshinori rambled senselessly, barely even aware that he was speaking. The warble in his voice prompted you to take a better look at him, and you noticed tears brimming in his eyes – though, he didn't seem to be aware. Or he just didn't care.

The love you have for that man knows no bounds – but God, did something nasty and feral inside of you want to see him cry.

Careful to maintain the rhythm you'd set with your hips, you leaned down and began kissing along his throat. His fingertips dug into your skin harder, and he whimpered quietly, but it wasn't quite as much of a reaction as you'd been hoping for. But you knew what would get him there.

"You're so strong, baby," you murmured against the sweat-slick skin of his neck, just below his ear. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, although you weren't sure if that was because of the praise or because of the way you intentionally squeezed his twitching cock. "You feel so damn good – always do. You – ngh, fuck – you're perfect. My handsome husband."

A pitiful whimper tore itself from his throat, and the rhythm of his hips meeting yours faltered. You couldn't resist leaning up to look at him, and saw tears flowing more freely from his eyes now – enough that you finally felt sated.

Through the daze of being overwhelmed by your praise, Toshinori realized he barely stood a snowball's chance in hell for holding back his second orgasm. A second realization soon followed: he needed to get you off before that happened.

Albeit slightly frantically, Toshinori still possessed enough sense to reach down and begin rubbing your clit. Despite it being a blatantly desperate attempt to make you cum, doing it juuust how you liked it was muscle memory for your loving, attentive partner.

A choked out gasp of “Fuck, Toshi” fell from your lips as your thighs began to shake, and he felt your syrupy, sopping cunt grip his cock in a chokehold as you came undone around him. Over the ringing in his ears, Toshinori heard himself groan – low, deep, guttural – as he spilled inside you. 

Both sets of hips weakly chased that high before slowing to a stop, and two warm arms wrapped around you as you let yourself shakily lay down on his chest. Toshinori stroked your hair and rubbed absentminded circles on your back as both of you caught your breath. Ever reverent, he was the first to speak – pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple as he murmured, “Thank you, my love. You’re perfect.”

The next day, your dear, sweet husband didn’t have the heart to correct his grading choices to Kaminari, who loudly cheered about getting his first ever A on a report.

BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA:

— ALL MIGHT ; toshinori yagi

( 18+ ) bruised ego | part one ; f!reader / all might young!might. you & toshinori have a great working relationship. all might is like a mentor. a great guy. a real, stand-up dude. a hero who inevitably has to help you deal with the side-effects of being hit with a love quirk. ( 18+ ) bruised ego | part two ; f!reader / all might young!might. he should have waited for you. but no, toshinori felt like he had something to prove. now, roles are reversed and he needs your help. ( 18+ ) all smite + tears ; f!reader / all smite part of the #birbs smut blurbs ( 18+ ) toshinori + voice ; f!reader / toshinori part of the #birbs smut blurbs ( 18+ ) toshinori + breeding kink ; f!reader / toshinori part of the #birbs smut blurbs sex ed ; nurse!reader / vice principal yagi "please tell me they paid you well for these thinly veiled metaphors about finding the clitoris." ( 18+ ) guilty jerk off ; reader / toshinori part of the #birbs smut blurbs #bruised ego | the tag ; includes headcanons, drabbles, and asks pertaining to the bruised ego series

— HAWKS ; keigo takami

meet & greet | part one ; f!reader / hawks you manage to snag two VIP meet & greet tickets for your nephew's birthday. he insists you join him. part one of two. ( WIP ) meet & greet | part two ; f!reader / hawks coming soon. ( 18+ ) keigo + begging ; f!reader / hawks part of the #birbs smut blurbs #meet & greet | the tag ; includes headcanons, drabbles, and asks pertaining to the meet & greet series

— DABI ; touya todoroki

burner cell | part one ; f!reader / dabi you end up at the league's bar, unbeknownst to you or your drunk friends. you just want to go home. set in the early days of bnha. burner cell | part two ; f!reader / dabi after a week of silence, you finally text dabi. burner cell | part three ; f!reader / dabi a night out with dabi. #burner cell | the tag ; includes headcanons, drabbles, and asks pertaining to the burner cell series

— SHOTO ; shoto todoroki

can't we be seventeen? ; f!reader / shoto he's loved you since he was seveteen.

— RED RIOT ; eijiro kirishima

noise complaint ; f!reader / red riot red riot feels really bad about absolutely wrecking the shit out of your treasured plants, or eijiro kirishima falls in love at first sight.

— SUNEATER ; tamaki amajiki

( 18+ ) tamaki + tentacle ; f!reader / suneater part of #birbs smut blurbs

— ENDEAVOR | enji todoroki

( 18+ ) endeavor + whipped ; f!reader / enji part of #birbs smut blurbs

— ERASURE HEAD ; shouta aizawa

( 18+ ) aizawa + eating ; f!reader / shouta part of #birbs smut blurbs ( 18+ ) shota in love ; imagine what he is like in love

— MINDJACK ; hitoshi shinso

( 18+ ) mindjack + quirk ; f!reader / hitoshi part of #birbs smut blurbs

KIMETSU NO YAIBA:

— KYOJURO RENGOKU

the fool ; f!hashira reader / rengoku all you wanted was to pass out in your room, but no. here you are, dragging yourself (quite literally) up the mountainside to the ubuyashiki mansion's onsen.

— SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA

moonbeam ; f!hashira reader / sanemi you & shinazugawa have a score to settle, but you never did agree on the stakes, did you?

— TENGEN UZUI

( 18 + ) fingering and sound ; f!reader / tengen part of #birbs smut blurbs

— YORIICHI TSUGIKUNI

( 18 + ) ginger and miso ; f!reader / yoriichi part of #birbs smut blurbs

JUJUSTSU KAISEN:

— SUGURU GETO

the fall ; f!reader / geto it's loud. geto can silence it. set post-hidden inventory.

— SATORU GOJO

be okay ; f!reader / gojo you've been promised to one another since the very beginning. be okay | part two ; f!reader / gojo the engagement is on. you move to tokyo. ( 18+ ) gojo + lineage ; f!reader / gojo part of #birbs smut blurbs

— NANAMI KENTO

( 18+ ) nanami + tie ; f!reader / nanami part of #birbs smut blurbs ( 18+ ) picture your face / whisper your name ; f!reader / nanami Nanami Kento has had feelings for you since your joined the sales team as his junior. You've felt the same. He's resigning. The feelings aren't.

KAIJU NO. 8:

— KAFKA HIBINO

"you look ridiculous in that outfit." ; f!reader / kafka prompt request; angsty

—SOSHIRO HOSHINA

( 18 + ) agreed ; f!reader / hoshina part of #birbs smut blurbs

MODERN WARFARE:

— SIMON RILEY ; ghost

handler's manual | part one ; f!reader / ghost moth is the 141's intel specialist. ghost is the 141's resident freak. handler's manual | part two ; f!reader / ghost moth & johnny spar. ghost is in a bad mood. moth's theories grow. handler's manual | part three ; f!reader / ghost a new year's eve honeypot brings a realization. handler's manual | part four ; f!reader / ghost you can't sleep. simon can't either. handler's manual | part five ; f!reader / ghost kortac makes an appearance. you owe a certain colonel an apology. ghost ain't about it. handler's manual | part six ; f!reader / ghost no graves + mess hall bolognese + laundry day ≠ good ghost mood? blood & body ; f!reader / ghost set during mission: alone. you won’t die today.

— JOHNNY MACTAVISH ; soap

liar's den ; f!reader / soap drinks and pining shared.

HALO: TV SERIES:

— JOHN-117; master chief

pedestal, altar, cross ; f!reader / john-117 drabble series set post-season 1, slight canon-divergence, game & book references. john severs that hormonal pellet between his vertebrae and things change between him and you, his brokkr technician.

LOVE AND DEEPSPACE:

— CALEB ;

( +18 ) insubordinate ; f!reader / colonel caleb court martial? more like squirt martial. (i'm sorry.) (i'm not)

ONE PIECE:

— ZORO ;

swan dive ; f!reader / zoro port d'beau proves to be anything but an easy job. you almost drown, zoro saves you. [set post-arlong, pre-alabasta] drunk with zoro ; f!reader / zoro headcanons with being drunk with zoro

(That is not true. You know it. You and your therapist have worked through that stuck point — but, it sounds a hell of a lot better than explaining the reason you ended up in prison was by your own actions, not being caught by All Might.)

You're reformed.

Blah, blah, blah, you're the Villain Rehabilitation Program's star graduate. 

They loved using your imagery — the ones of you before you got clean off those Quirk enhancers and put on the straight and narrow —in their PR packages. They love that picture of you — the ones with hands behind your back — cuffed by All Might as you're effectively muzzled by the local law enforcement.

Your lip catches in a snarl.

Don't think about that. 

Don't think about his hands on your wrists. Don't think about the way his boot nudged your leg apart for the frisk — don't think about the way he threatened you, so low and so dangerous, not to move. 

Don't think about how All Might is a bastard, and the media just doesn't know it. 

He's cheeky. Sly. When he's out of the limelight, that eerie #1 smile drops and he's almost normal — if not nearly five hundred and sixty pounds of muscle.  

Like now, on this rooftop, he's more like Toshinori Yagi. Your impromptu mentor in all things heroic. After all, the Hero Commission thought it would be great for the program's image if All Might, the man who arrested you countless times, was the one to integrate you into a more heroic notion. Never mind the dozens of times you went head-to-head with the man, never mind the handful of times you almost won. 

"Derecho, I'm serious," comes his voice; it's softer, almost like he's in his smaller form — the one you always find yourself being partial to, "You look feverish..."

Static snaps across the air and Toshinori takes it — the way it bites at the skin of his hands is nothing. It's a warning shot. Don't come any closer. 

"I was hit with that guy's quirk," you mutter as you try to square your breathing, "I'm fine, I just... Need some time—"

Son of a bitch. 

You've always been a hard one to shake — and even now, as you climb well into the Top Ten ranks, he's never seen you this out of it. You've taken a crowbar to the ribs and recovered better than being hit by some petty criminal's love quirk. 

Toshinori curses under his breath as he winces at the desperation cracking in your voice. 

"If you need to take the night—"

"Yes."

He was slotted to patrol this prefecture with you for another two hours — but seeing the way your whole body looks like it could collapse is... a bit concerning. Toshinori nods, exhales, and waves you on.

"Should I call Recovery Girl?"

Your boot toes the ledge. You need out of this outfit. It's too tight. You're too hot. Your skin feels like it's on fire and the embarrassing ache between your legs is just getting worse with every low, timbred syllable out of his mouth. Don't think about his mouth. 

"I'm fine." 

You're not fine.

Even when you're back in your apartment, trying desperately to shower off the skin-crawling, mouth-watering heat of desire, you can't even come close to relating to the word 'fine'. You're a mess. You try to stand under the heat of the water for a while, to burn the need off your skin, but that doesn't work. 

You're so not fine. 

You can't stop thinking about Toshinori. Must be something to do with the fact he was closest when you were struck with the quirk. Yea. Totally that.

You have to be fine. You need to be fine. This is just a stupid love quirk that will wear off within a few hours. 

Well, a few hours come and go, and it's just getting worse. 

Come on, you are torturing yourself with the evening news, just breathe it out. 

Because you're a hero, and you were a villain. You know what it's like to get hit with disconcerting quirks like this in the heat of a battle. With just a little time, it goes away. Right? 

Right...?

"I AM CALLING! I AM CALLING!" 

Your phone vibrates on the coffee table. Your pupils, full-blown and big, swivel to the photo that ignites the dark of the room. It's a photo of Toshinori — he's in his smaller form, posed beside you in a ramen booth close to U.A.'s campus. He was hellbent on giving you a tour of his old high school.

You always loved how cute he looked in that picture.

Fuck.

You snatch the phone up and answer the call.

"What?" it comes out snappier than it needs to be. 

"Are you doin' alright?" his voice has lost its persona'd gusto. You can tell, just by the soft way he speaks, he's no longer in uniform or on patrol. All Might has clocked out for the evening, and Toshinori Yagi is in the building, "I haven't heard a peep from you all night, zippy." 

Something in your brain goes blank at the nickname. You usually hate it. Usually, you'd bite at him for it. You don't even realize you're white knuckle gripping the edge of the couch as he continues to speak. 

"Y'know, it's okay — I've been hit by love quirks plenty of times before," he goes on; you can hear him juggle the phone to his other ear, "They aren't fun. I'm sorry you're—"

"Come over."

Toshinori almost drops the can of soda in his hands. In the middle of the convenience store aisle, he feels his entire body lurch. 

"What?"

Your head is back against the couch, your hands covering your face in sheer embarrassment. You grit it out again. "I said come over."

"Derecho—"

"I've tried everything," you mutter defeatedly into the phone; you can't even pull your hand from your face, you're so embarrassed you're even telling him this but you need help, "Fingers, toys, even the Hitachi on the highest speed, Toshinori, and I can't—"

Jesus fucking Christ. 

This is bad.

This is... not you. So not you. This is... fuck, okay, right. He's All Might. He helps people. And you're important to him. You're his enemy turned pseudo-protégé turned colleague turned woman-he's-been-ignoring-his-feelings-for-the-last-seven-months. You're Derecho. Number Eight Hero in Japan, his friend. His...

"Give me ten."

And he hangs up.

Two boxes of XL condoms earn him a severely skeptical look from the cashier, but it's fine. Toshinori has bigger things to worry about — like the fact he has no idea what this is going to do to your working relationship, but it's fine. You need help. He knows what this is like — and he would feel awful if he left you to deal with it alone. 

Fingers, toys, even the Hitachi— 

Maybe he'll die, actually. Maybe he'll just throw himself from the nearest roof. 

The mental image of you, alone in your apartment, hands between your thighs as you try desperately to shake the painful ache in your core has him walking a bit faster — your apartment is three blocks over. 

He makes good time.

His knuckles don't even touch the door before you're yanking it open — and Christ, you're a sight to see.

Wet hair, wild eyes, and a permanent heavy breath. The oversized t-shirt clinging to your shoulders is definitely going to be a topic of discussion for a later date. It's All Might merch. His fucking merch. 

When did you even buy that—?

"I'm sorry," you blurt out, looking pained. 

Toshinori's eyes hold your own. Then:

"I've always been a sucker for a damsel in distress."

He's a bastard. A serious bastard. A bastard who you're dragging in by the neck of his t-shirt — a bastard who doesn't complain in the slightest when your mouth is on his in a flash. With ease, he slams the front door shut with his boot and quickly allows you to guide him through your apartment. Your mouth is still latched to his, your hands digging into his shoulders as his hands chase your waist. 

You recognize in the heated haze of the kiss there's a grocery bag in his hand. It knocks against your hip as you accidentally back into the edge of the couch — your hands fumbling for some purchase in the dark living room. 

You pull your mouth from his just long enough to breathe out another apology. 

"Don't. We'll talk about it after," he says, leaning down over you as you scramble back against the leather couch cushions, "What do you need?"

"What do you think?" you hiss as his body presses against yours; he's still in his boots, still in his shirt and jeans. He's... too clothed. Your body couldn't handle anything except the less-than-flattering pair of cotton underwear and the biggest t-shirt you owned. 

You swear he's smirking in the dark. 

"Mouth? Hands?" he presses, his touch cradling your face as he continues to navigate your steady, bruisingly needy kisses, "Use your words."

"Anything—"

Your voice is a rasp, your hands scaling his back as he nudges your knees apart with his thigh and slots his hips against yours. Even in this smaller form, he's got the tactical advantage — not being near death from a fever so high you can hardly think anymore. 

"I need to know," he says as he leans back, his voice dipping lower as his palms brush the skin of your stomach. His fingertips hesitate at the edge of your waistband, and you whine. 

"Anything, Toshinori, stop jerking me around!" 

...What a brat. He almost laughs. But, then he remembers the one time he was left like this — and how desperate he was even after six hours of exhaustive attempts at self-pleasure. 

"Be nice," he chirps as his fingers slip beneath your underwear; his satisfaction builds when you fist the back of his shirt and gasp — his fingers grace the slick, wet folds of your core with ease. It's a tender movement, one that assesses just how pliable you are at this moment. 

And then, two of his fingers are pushing into you down to his knuckles. 

The babbled thank you bursts from your chest — and Toshi actually laughs at how fast you cling to his chest. He didn't anticipate his night going like this. Not with you, wild-eyed and desperate, pulling him into a kiss that's so bruising he thinks his lip splits.

Hands. Hands. Hands. His hands. One hand is between your folds, working you open, and the other is pressing up your curves and settling along your breast. You can't even think straight. The fact Toshinori is so slick, so eager, so good at whatever he's doing, is making the coil in your abdomen go white hot. 

"Fuck—" you strangle out, your lips parted in a gasp as he wets his own lips and watches your face in the dark, "G-God, okay, th-that's good—"

"Better than your own?" he asks, genuinely worried this isn't the progress you need to shake off the quirk's effects. 

"So much better," you wail, coincidentally fueling his ego in a way he never knew he needed. Because, ha, well — who knew Derecho, little miss spiteful and mysterious, just needed a little bit of him. 

"Is it enough?" he asks against her jaw, his forearm flexing as he works the pace up, his palm rubbing gently against your clit. It's an attempt at a coordinated pace, and it seems to be working from the way you're writhing beneath him. 

"I... I still — I can't — I'm so..." you look like you could cry out of sheer frustration, and Toshi suddenly feels a pang of guilt. He can only imagine how you've done this very thing over and over tonight, trying to just cum. Your voice cracks and you whimper, "I can't. I'm so close, but I just can't—"

"Okay," he breathes, his mind swirling with strategic planning, "So mouth."

"Mouth?" you choke, suddenly looking alarmed, but Toshi doesn't seem to care about the added snare of intimacy that comes with him slipping to his knees before the couch. 

Oh my god, he's on his knees. He's on his knees and he's grappling with your underwear, hauling it down the tops of your thighs before throwing it over his shoulder in a very Toshinori manner. 

You've got All Might on his knees. 

It suddenly hits you as he sits up on his knees and nudges your legs apart. He's a man on a mission — dedicated entirely to the task at hand. 

Making you orgasm. 

You wonder how many people have fantasized about this very thing — granted, he's not costume. Thank god. You can't even imagine what the conversation with his dry-cleaning team would look like. 

Toshi's voice knocks you back to reality. "Is this okay?"

He sounds concerned.

Meanwhile, you could kill him. If he doesn't put his mouth on you right now—

Noted. He sees the spark of annoyance, dumb question, and hauls your leg over his shoulder as he delves in. 

Ohmygod.

This is better — the coil is wound tighter, and a little bit closer to snapping, the second his tongue presses flat against your glistening slick. It's even better when he hums, his voice mumbles against your sex as his hands press your thighs to open a bit farther. 

"Keep 'em open."

"Don't talk," you heave between pants, "With your mouth full."

It's like the two of you are at work — this banter. But, his laugh vibrates your core and you moan. That doesn't happen at work. That doesn't happen, ever. A greedy part of you sure as hell hopes this happens again, because holy hell, he's good at this. Methodical. Strategic. Thorough.

His pace doesn't change, the pressure doesn't lessen. The blonde streaks of his fringe tickle the inside of your thighs as he continues his work — and you swear you almost cum when he slips a look up at you in the dark. 

His eyes are so blue that you feel like you're suddenly lost at sea. 

Then, there are two crooked fingers back inside of you. 

You and he are going to have to have a long talk about where he learned all this — because it's so good you genuinely can't do anything but reach out and grip his hair in a panic. You gasp, your whole body convulses, and you almost... almost cum. Almost.

It's Toshi's turn to moan. 

You're suddenly so oversensitive you swear your heart might stop. 

You're writhing away from him, squirming away, and Toshi's lips are parted as his breath fans across your core. 

"Cock," you're suddenly rambling, "N-Need — I need—"

"Right," he stutters, realizing this is good — you're almost there, he can tell. You're so close he can feel it in the air. The static electricity burning off your quirk leaves the room feeling tingly. 

He's wobbling back upright, cursing as he practically falls around the couch in the dark, and palms at the grocery bag he discarded on the floor. He's not graceful about the way he tears about the small box, or about the way he drops the foil square between his teeth as he leans back to work off his belt. 

"Bedroom?" he asks through gritted teeth.

You're nodding, practically falling over yourself to lead the way. Boots, jeans, belt, shirt — all of it is left scattered along the way, and your bare body hits the sheets after an easy shove from Toshinori. Of course, the boxers clinging to his strong thighs are his brand. The All Might logo is almost comical stretched across his hardness. 

You have the wherewithal to roll your eyes as he tears open the condom with his teeth. 

"What?" he shirks, looking down.

"Seriously?" you grit, legs pressed together tightly to try and stop the empty ache between your legs. It hurts. It hurts so much worse when his mouth and hands aren't on you.

"Don't even start," he rumbles as he rolls down the waistband and his cock springs free — he's quick to roll the condom down the thick length of it and lift a finger to wag in your face, "You answered the door in my merch—" 

"Setting the mood," you offer as he steps out of his underwear.

Toshinori then, unceremoniously, drags your hips to the edge of the bed. You almost shriek. It's a bit rough — a bit sudden — but you can't complain when the head of his cock is suddenly being guided through your folds teasingly. Up and down. Over the swollen bud of your clit, across your wet opening. You prop yourself up on your elbows, lips parted, as you try and nudge your hips closer. 

His large hand presses your hips down to the mattress. 

"Toshinori—"

"You sure this is okay?" he mutters, his pupils full-blown as he watches himself slip through your wetness, "I— If it's too much—"

"If you don't fuck me right now—"

"Right."

And he sinks in.

Ha. 

Yea. 

This is good.

You're so glad you didn't fry him earlier. You're so glad. You're so... oh, this is so so so ridiculously good you might die. You might die, because he's snapping his hips into yours and you can see the ripple of his muscles, even in this smaller form. 

His breath is ragged, his voice low and easy.

"You're doing a great job," he says; your core tightens at the sudden praise, "Y-You're doin' really... good—"

Your chest bounces with each thrust, your legs locked around his hips, your whimpers increasing in frequency with every single in and out of his cock. The feeling is better than any sex you've ever had — you've never been so aware of every inch. 

And then, he's knocking his forehead against yours, leaning over you — you're caged against the mattress, and one arm of his is holding your leg up around his waist. The angle change is minute but it's good. Everything is Toshinori so suddenly, everything is so blue eyes and a bright smile. 

It's thorough, a word you're slowly beginning to realize describes Toshinori to a T. There's not a single falter in his pace, not a single thrust that doesn't wind the white-hot orgasm tighter and tighter in your belly. It's worse when he holds your face, though, worse when he keeps fucking you so well while chattering on about how good you are, how strong you are, how beautiful you are—

Your composure snaps when he rumbles out:

"I know you can cum for me like a good girl."

The coil snaps.

Finally. 

After four hours of torture. After four hours of trying. Finally, you cum — and hard. The sort that robs you of your vision and hearing, the sort that has your whole body arching off the bed. The kind you haven't had in a long time. The kind that, of course, Toshinori Yagi would be the man to provide. 

"Fuckfuckfuck—" you babble, gasping, still gripped by the force of the orgasm as his pace quickens.

He's laughing — laughing, and then you're clamping down on him so hard he sees stars. It's all fun and games until he can't stop himself, he can't slow down, he can't breathe, and he's rocked by an orgasm that makes his knees give out. He's wild-eyed, panting, snapping his hips into yours as you whimper and gasp and grip his shoulders so tight he may have bruises. 

Toshinori swallows, then gasps to catch his breath, and then pushes himself up to give you a little room to breathe. His cock is still twitching inside of you.

Your eyes are closed, and your breath is fast. Your hair is spilled across the sheet — and you look content. Satiated. Peaceful. He's rarely ever seen you so tranquil. 

Blindly, and lazily, you reach up to touch his cheek.

At first, he thinks it's going to be tender. Intimate. Romantic.

Then, you roughly pat it twice.

"We're never gonna talk about this again."

Right. 

Because he's All Might. And you're Derecho. You're colleagues. Friends. This was just... him helping you. Like when a friend has a cold. You bring them soup. He... brought you... an orgasm. Just like soup.

Definitely.

...Right. 

"It was just, uh," he breathes, pulling out and cursing at the embarrassingly apparent load in the condom; not like he'd dreamed about this very thing for nights on end, no siree bob, "You needed help. I offered."

That is not what happened. Not even close. But, he's going to tell himself that.

Not like you totally won't think about this every single night ever for the rest of time. Definitely like you won't dream about the way he called you a good girl. Ha. Yea, right. Psh. You're fine. This is fine. Everything is fine.

After all, it's just Toshinori.

He's... kind. And gentle. And patient. And levelheaded... If not the single reason your entire life fell apart seven years ago.

And definitely not the reason your life is falling apart right now as you realize, fuck, you're definitely in love with him, aren't you?

(That is not true. You know it. You and your therapist have worked through that stuck point — but, it sounds a hell of a lot better than explaining the reason you ended up in prison was by your own actions, not being caught by All Might.)

You're reformed.

Blah, blah, blah, you're the Villain Rehabilitation Program's star graduate. 

They loved using your imagery — the ones of you before you got clean off those Quirk enhancers and put on the straight and narrow —in their PR packages. They love that picture of you — the ones with hands behind your back — cuffed by All Might as you're effectively muzzled by the local law enforcement.

Your lip catches in a snarl.

Don't think about that. 

Don't think about his hands on your wrists. Don't think about the way his boot nudged your leg apart for the frisk — don't think about the way he threatened you, so low and so dangerous, not to move. 

Don't think about how All Might is a bastard, and the media just doesn't know it. 

He's cheeky. Sly. When he's out of the limelight, that eerie #1 smile drops and he's almost normal — if not nearly five hundred and sixty pounds of muscle.  

Like now, on this rooftop, he's more like Toshinori Yagi. Your impromptu mentor in all things heroic. After all, the Hero Commission thought it would be great for the program's image if All Might, the man who arrested you countless times, was the one to integrate you into a more heroic notion. Never mind the dozens of times you went head-to-head with the man, never mind the handful of times you almost won. 

"Derecho, I'm serious," comes his voice; it's softer, almost like he's in his smaller form — the one you always find yourself being partial to, "You look feverish..."

Static snaps across the air and Toshinori takes it — the way it bites at the skin of his hands is nothing. It's a warning shot. Don't come any closer. 

"I was hit with that guy's quirk," you mutter as you try to square your breathing, "I'm fine, I just... Need some time—"

Son of a bitch. 

You've always been a hard one to shake — and even now, as you climb well into the Top Ten ranks, he's never seen you this out of it. You've taken a crowbar to the ribs and recovered better than being hit by some petty criminal's love quirk. 

Toshinori curses under his breath as he winces at the desperation cracking in your voice. 

"If you need to take the night—"

"Yes."

He was slotted to patrol this prefecture with you for another two hours — but seeing the way your whole body looks like it could collapse is... a bit concerning. Toshinori nods, exhales, and waves you on.

"Should I call Recovery Girl?"

Your boot toes the ledge. You need out of this outfit. It's too tight. You're too hot. Your skin feels like it's on fire and the embarrassing ache between your legs is just getting worse with every low, timbred syllable out of his mouth. Don't think about his mouth. 

"I'm fine." 

You're not fine.

Even when you're back in your apartment, trying desperately to shower off the skin-crawling, mouth-watering heat of desire, you can't even come close to relating to the word 'fine'. You're a mess. You try to stand under the heat of the water for a while, to burn the need off your skin, but that doesn't work. 

You're so not fine. 

You can't stop thinking about Toshinori. Must be something to do with the fact he was closest when you were struck with the quirk. Yea. Totally that.

You have to be fine. You need to be fine. This is just a stupid love quirk that will wear off within a few hours. 

Well, a few hours come and go, and it's just getting worse. 

Come on, you are torturing yourself with the evening news, just breathe it out. 

Because you're a hero, and you were a villain. You know what it's like to get hit with disconcerting quirks like this in the heat of a battle. With just a little time, it goes away. Right? 

Right...?

"I AM CALLING! I AM CALLING!" 

Your phone vibrates on the coffee table. Your pupils, full-blown and big, swivel to the photo that ignites the dark of the room. It's a photo of Toshinori — he's in his smaller form, posed beside you in a ramen booth close to U.A.'s campus. He was hellbent on giving you a tour of his old high school.

You always loved how cute he looked in that picture.

Fuck.

You snatch the phone up and answer the call.

"What?" it comes out snappier than it needs to be. 

"Are you doin' alright?" his voice has lost its persona'd gusto. You can tell, just by the soft way he speaks, he's no longer in uniform or on patrol. All Might has clocked out for the evening, and Toshinori Yagi is in the building, "I haven't heard a peep from you all night, zippy." 

Something in your brain goes blank at the nickname. You usually hate it. Usually, you'd bite at him for it. You don't even realize you're white knuckle gripping the edge of the couch as he continues to speak. 

"Y'know, it's okay — I've been hit by love quirks plenty of times before," he goes on; you can hear him juggle the phone to his other ear, "They aren't fun. I'm sorry you're—"

"Come over."

Toshinori almost drops the can of soda in his hands. In the middle of the convenience store aisle, he feels his entire body lurch. 

"What?"

Your head is back against the couch, your hands covering your face in sheer embarrassment. You grit it out again. "I said come over."

"Derecho—"

"I've tried everything," you mutter defeatedly into the phone; you can't even pull your hand from your face, you're so embarrassed you're even telling him this but you need help, "Fingers, toys, even the Hitachi on the highest speed, Toshinori, and I can't—"

Jesus fucking Christ. 

This is bad.

This is... not you. So not you. This is... fuck, okay, right. He's All Might. He helps people. And you're important to him. You're his enemy turned pseudo-protégé turned colleague turned woman-he's-been-ignoring-his-feelings-for-the-last-seven-months. You're Derecho. Number Eight Hero in Japan, his friend. His...

"Give me ten."

And he hangs up.

Two boxes of XL condoms earn him a severely skeptical look from the cashier, but it's fine. Toshinori has bigger things to worry about — like the fact he has no idea what this is going to do to your working relationship, but it's fine. You need help. He knows what this is like — and he would feel awful if he left you to deal with it alone. 

Fingers, toys, even the Hitachi— 

Maybe he'll die, actually. Maybe he'll just throw himself from the nearest roof. 

The mental image of you, alone in your apartment, hands between your thighs as you try desperately to shake the painful ache in your core has him walking a bit faster — your apartment is three blocks over. 

He makes good time.

His knuckles don't even touch the door before you're yanking it open — and Christ, you're a sight to see.

Wet hair, wild eyes, and a permanent heavy breath. The oversized t-shirt clinging to your shoulders is definitely going to be a topic of discussion for a later date. It's All Might merch. His fucking merch. 

When did you even buy that—?

"I'm sorry," you blurt out, looking pained. 

Toshinori's eyes hold your own. Then:

"I've always been a sucker for a damsel in distress."

He's a bastard. A serious bastard. A bastard who you're dragging in by the neck of his t-shirt — a bastard who doesn't complain in the slightest when your mouth is on his in a flash. With ease, he slams the front door shut with his boot and quickly allows you to guide him through your apartment. Your mouth is still latched to his, your hands digging into his shoulders as his hands chase your waist. 

You recognize in the heated haze of the kiss there's a grocery bag in his hand. It knocks against your hip as you accidentally back into the edge of the couch — your hands fumbling for some purchase in the dark living room. 

You pull your mouth from his just long enough to breathe out another apology. 

"Don't. We'll talk about it after," he says, leaning down over you as you scramble back against the leather couch cushions, "What do you need?"

"What do you think?" you hiss as his body presses against yours; he's still in his boots, still in his shirt and jeans. He's... too clothed. Your body couldn't handle anything except the less-than-flattering pair of cotton underwear and the biggest t-shirt you owned. 

You swear he's smirking in the dark. 

"Mouth? Hands?" he presses, his touch cradling your face as he continues to navigate your steady, bruisingly needy kisses, "Use your words."

"Anything—"

Your voice is a rasp, your hands scaling his back as he nudges your knees apart with his thigh and slots his hips against yours. Even in this smaller form, he's got the tactical advantage — not being near death from a fever so high you can hardly think anymore. 

"I need to know," he says as he leans back, his voice dipping lower as his palms brush the skin of your stomach. His fingertips hesitate at the edge of your waistband, and you whine. 

"Anything, Toshinori, stop jerking me around!" 

...What a brat. He almost laughs. But, then he remembers the one time he was left like this — and how desperate he was even after six hours of exhaustive attempts at self-pleasure. 

"Be nice," he chirps as his fingers slip beneath your underwear; his satisfaction builds when you fist the back of his shirt and gasp — his fingers grace the slick, wet folds of your core with ease. It's a tender movement, one that assesses just how pliable you are at this moment. 

And then, two of his fingers are pushing into you down to his knuckles. 

The babbled thank you bursts from your chest — and Toshi actually laughs at how fast you cling to his chest. He didn't anticipate his night going like this. Not with you, wild-eyed and desperate, pulling him into a kiss that's so bruising he thinks his lip splits.

Hands. Hands. Hands. His hands. One hand is between your folds, working you open, and the other is pressing up your curves and settling along your breast. You can't even think straight. The fact Toshinori is so slick, so eager, so good at whatever he's doing, is making the coil in your abdomen go white hot. 

"Fuck—" you strangle out, your lips parted in a gasp as he wets his own lips and watches your face in the dark, "G-God, okay, th-that's good—"

"Better than your own?" he asks, genuinely worried this isn't the progress you need to shake off the quirk's effects. 

"So much better," you wail, coincidentally fueling his ego in a way he never knew he needed. Because, ha, well — who knew Derecho, little miss spiteful and mysterious, just needed a little bit of him. 

"Is it enough?" he asks against her jaw, his forearm flexing as he works the pace up, his palm rubbing gently against your clit. It's an attempt at a coordinated pace, and it seems to be working from the way you're writhing beneath him. 

"I... I still — I can't — I'm so..." you look like you could cry out of sheer frustration, and Toshi suddenly feels a pang of guilt. He can only imagine how you've done this very thing over and over tonight, trying to just cum. Your voice cracks and you whimper, "I can't. I'm so close, but I just can't—"

"Okay," he breathes, his mind swirling with strategic planning, "So mouth."

"Mouth?" you choke, suddenly looking alarmed, but Toshi doesn't seem to care about the added snare of intimacy that comes with him slipping to his knees before the couch. 

Oh my god, he's on his knees. He's on his knees and he's grappling with your underwear, hauling it down the tops of your thighs before throwing it over his shoulder in a very Toshinori manner. 

You've got All Might on his knees. 

It suddenly hits you as he sits up on his knees and nudges your legs apart. He's a man on a mission — dedicated entirely to the task at hand. 

Making you orgasm. 

You wonder how many people have fantasized about this very thing — granted, he's not costume. Thank god. You can't even imagine what the conversation with his dry-cleaning team would look like. 

Toshi's voice knocks you back to reality. "Is this okay?"

He sounds concerned.

Meanwhile, you could kill him. If he doesn't put his mouth on you right now—

Noted. He sees the spark of annoyance, dumb question, and hauls your leg over his shoulder as he delves in. 

Ohmygod.

This is better — the coil is wound tighter, and a little bit closer to snapping, the second his tongue presses flat against your glistening slick. It's even better when he hums, his voice mumbles against your sex as his hands press your thighs to open a bit farther. 

"Keep 'em open."

"Don't talk," you heave between pants, "With your mouth full."

It's like the two of you are at work — this banter. But, his laugh vibrates your core and you moan. That doesn't happen at work. That doesn't happen, ever. A greedy part of you sure as hell hopes this happens again, because holy hell, he's good at this. Methodical. Strategic. Thorough.

His pace doesn't change, the pressure doesn't lessen. The blonde streaks of his fringe tickle the inside of your thighs as he continues his work — and you swear you almost cum when he slips a look up at you in the dark. 

His eyes are so blue that you feel like you're suddenly lost at sea. 

Then, there are two crooked fingers back inside of you. 

You and he are going to have to have a long talk about where he learned all this — because it's so good you genuinely can't do anything but reach out and grip his hair in a panic. You gasp, your whole body convulses, and you almost... almost cum. Almost.

It's Toshi's turn to moan. 

You're suddenly so oversensitive you swear your heart might stop. 

You're writhing away from him, squirming away, and Toshi's lips are parted as his breath fans across your core. 

"Cock," you're suddenly rambling, "N-Need — I need—"

"Right," he stutters, realizing this is good — you're almost there, he can tell. You're so close he can feel it in the air. The static electricity burning off your quirk leaves the room feeling tingly. 

He's wobbling back upright, cursing as he practically falls around the couch in the dark, and palms at the grocery bag he discarded on the floor. He's not graceful about the way he tears about the small box, or about the way he drops the foil square between his teeth as he leans back to work off his belt. 

"Bedroom?" he asks through gritted teeth.

You're nodding, practically falling over yourself to lead the way. Boots, jeans, belt, shirt — all of it is left scattered along the way, and your bare body hits the sheets after an easy shove from Toshinori. Of course, the boxers clinging to his strong thighs are his brand. The All Might logo is almost comical stretched across his hardness. 

You have the wherewithal to roll your eyes as he tears open the condom with his teeth. 

"What?" he shirks, looking down.

"Seriously?" you grit, legs pressed together tightly to try and stop the empty ache between your legs. It hurts. It hurts so much worse when his mouth and hands aren't on you.

"Don't even start," he rumbles as he rolls down the waistband and his cock springs free — he's quick to roll the condom down the thick length of it and lift a finger to wag in your face, "You answered the door in my merch—" 

"Setting the mood," you offer as he steps out of his underwear.

Toshinori then, unceremoniously, drags your hips to the edge of the bed. You almost shriek. It's a bit rough — a bit sudden — but you can't complain when the head of his cock is suddenly being guided through your folds teasingly. Up and down. Over the swollen bud of your clit, across your wet opening. You prop yourself up on your elbows, lips parted, as you try and nudge your hips closer. 

His large hand presses your hips down to the mattress. 

"Toshinori—"

"You sure this is okay?" he mutters, his pupils full-blown as he watches himself slip through your wetness, "I— If it's too much—"

"If you don't fuck me right now—"

"Right."

And he sinks in.

Ha. 

Yea. 

This is good.

You're so glad you didn't fry him earlier. You're so glad. You're so... oh, this is so so so ridiculously good you might die. You might die, because he's snapping his hips into yours and you can see the ripple of his muscles, even in this smaller form. 

His breath is ragged, his voice low and easy.

"You're doing a great job," he says; your core tightens at the sudden praise, "Y-You're doin' really... good—"

Your chest bounces with each thrust, your legs locked around his hips, your whimpers increasing in frequency with every single in and out of his cock. The feeling is better than any sex you've ever had — you've never been so aware of every inch. 

And then, he's knocking his forehead against yours, leaning over you — you're caged against the mattress, and one arm of his is holding your leg up around his waist. The angle change is minute but it's good. Everything is Toshinori so suddenly, everything is so blue eyes and a bright smile. 

It's thorough, a word you're slowly beginning to realize describes Toshinori to a T. There's not a single falter in his pace, not a single thrust that doesn't wind the white-hot orgasm tighter and tighter in your belly. It's worse when he holds your face, though, worse when he keeps fucking you so well while chattering on about how good you are, how strong you are, how beautiful you are—

Your composure snaps when he rumbles out:

"I know you can cum for me like a good girl."

The coil snaps.

Finally. 

After four hours of torture. After four hours of trying. Finally, you cum — and hard. The sort that robs you of your vision and hearing, the sort that has your whole body arching off the bed. The kind you haven't had in a long time. The kind that, of course, Toshinori Yagi would be the man to provide. 

"Fuckfuckfuck—" you babble, gasping, still gripped by the force of the orgasm as his pace quickens.

He's laughing — laughing, and then you're clamping down on him so hard he sees stars. It's all fun and games until he can't stop himself, he can't slow down, he can't breathe, and he's rocked by an orgasm that makes his knees give out. He's wild-eyed, panting, snapping his hips into yours as you whimper and gasp and grip his shoulders so tight he may have bruises. 

Toshinori swallows, then gasps to catch his breath, and then pushes himself up to give you a little room to breathe. His cock is still twitching inside of you.

Your eyes are closed, and your breath is fast. Your hair is spilled across the sheet — and you look content. Satiated. Peaceful. He's rarely ever seen you so tranquil. 

Blindly, and lazily, you reach up to touch his cheek.

At first, he thinks it's going to be tender. Intimate. Romantic.

Then, you roughly pat it twice.

"We're never gonna talk about this again."

Right. 

Because he's All Might. And you're Derecho. You're colleagues. Friends. This was just... him helping you. Like when a friend has a cold. You bring them soup. He... brought you... an orgasm. Just like soup.

Definitely.

...Right. 

"It was just, uh," he breathes, pulling out and cursing at the embarrassingly apparent load in the condom; not like he'd dreamed about this very thing for nights on end, no siree bob, "You needed help. I offered."

That is not what happened. Not even close. But, he's going to tell himself that.

Not like you totally won't think about this every single night ever for the rest of time. Definitely like you won't dream about the way he called you a good girl. Ha. Yea, right. Psh. You're fine. This is fine. Everything is fine.

After all, it's just Toshinori.

He's... kind. And gentle. And patient. And levelheaded... If not the single reason your entire life fell apart seven years ago.

And definitely not the reason your life is falling apart right now as you realize, fuck, you're definitely in love with him, aren't you?