#mirio

"Babe? Are you home?"

A pause.

"Darling girlfriend of mine?"

Mirio's voice was left unreplied to as he stood alone in your dorm. He was still absently texting you to see if you were out somewhere else, not quite paying attention to anything yet idly appreciating the view of your dorm. Little trinkets, posters, gifts, clothes, things of yours that reminded him of how much he loved you and the person you were. Then he heard water running—from the bathroom.

Absentmindedly, he left his phone on the bed and started towards the door—he simply thought it was the sink and maybe you were still getting ready for the date he'd planned for you two later. He scouted a new cafe while on a mock patrol and thought that you'd loved it, so he texted you to be ready before three but didn't tell you where; he wanted it to be a surprise!

Little did he know he was the one who was going to be surprised, though. He knocked on the bathroom door twice and called for you again. "Baby? It's me! Are you okay in there?"

The handle didn't give when he jiggled it, and his other calls for you went unanswered too.

When there was no response entirely, the tiniest bit of worry pricked him. Did you leave the faucet running or something? He didn't want your sink to overflow... Or did you faint? Were you hurt in there?

He didn't expect you to be shocked to see him if you were indeed inside. You knew he was coming, right?

Mirio, still without giving what he was doing much thought, activated his quirk and phased his body through the door, a tad bored and unfocused as he did—until he was on the other side of it.

You hadn't left the sink on; no, you had the shower on. The glass doors were foggy, the room warm from the boiling hot showers Mirio knew you liked to take. And through the clouded shower doors, he saw the blurry outline of you.

Oh god. He didn't want to be a creep! And he didn't want to scare you—but he didn't want to leave. I mean, he's your boyfriend, it wouldn't be so wrong to sneak in, would it?

Face flushed, he settled on undressing himself. He was going to knock on the glass before letting you know he was there with you, but he was so distracted by the thought of you naked and wet and alone, oh so alone, in the shower that he didn't even think of his quirk—which was still active—and he ended up phasing inside the shower when he tried to get a peek inside.

You'd been in the middle of scrubbing yourself, dreamily wondering of what cute date your loving boyfriend could've planned for you—when that very aforementioned boyfriend stumbled into the shower with you.

You let out a bloodcurdling scream and immediately weaponized your loofah by chucking it at the intruder. Mirio groaned, the loofah ineffectively bouncing off his bare body. He's caught himself against the wall, but not without his head recoiling after being bumped.

Next you threw your bottle of fruity shampoo, which startled Mirio. He tried to catch it but it ended up hitting him and falling onto the floor of the shower. "Ow! What are you doing!"

"What am I doing?" You hugged your chest, though the preservation of your modesty was barely your first priority in that moment. "What are you doing?! You pervert! You're the one who broke into my shower! While I'm using it!"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry—hey!" You smacked his arm as he tried to sheepishly defend himself. And you were about to throw the sliding door aside and step out, still hugging yourself, but before you could do that, Mirio grabbed you and dragged you back against him with one strong, skin-to-skin hug. "Where ya going?"

He always tried to be a gentleman to you—but one thing you knew about your boyfriend was that he was pathetic when it came you. He always tried to please you first, begged you for any sort of pleasure—he was down bad, completely willing to plead and whine for what he wanted without shame.

"Don't tell me you're getting out," said Mirio. "I didn't mean to interrupt..."

You narrowed your eyes. "Well, you did."

He didn't let up when you squirmed against him, and he even had the audacity to kiss your neck and shamelessly smell the fresh bodywash on your skin. "We'll still go out, right? You're not mad?"

Internally groaning, you couldn't help but soften as he began kissing down to your shoulders and up to your temples. "No, I'm not mad. But you can't just come in here anymore! You need to knock."

"I did knock," he murmured against your shoulder. "And I yelled for you. You just didn't hear me. I was going to knock on the shower door, but what if I scared you? You could've fallen and hurt yourself, honey..."

"You're not going to make me forget this by sweet-talking."

"I know," he said, "but can we still have some fun in here? Just before we go out... unless you want to finish your shower, or you're not in the mood—I understand."

You turned so that your chest pressed against him. You smirked slightly when he stared at your tits, sudsy and wet still. Theatrically rolling your eyes, you said, "Well, I guess so. But you owe me."

"I'd owe you anything if it got me this..."

He sunk to his knees before you, thankful for how roomy your shower was. Hands roaming down your waist and hips, not before squeezing your breasts and rolling your nipples, he found purchase on your thighs and pushed you up—which made you yelp.

He'd put you in a wall sit—your legs over his shoulders with his body acting as structural support.

"M-Miri—like this? Are you sure? You might get tired and drop me," you said.

Mirio was barely listening to you, already too mesmerized by your pretty pussy. He slid his finger along the slit and sides of you, then began to rub your attention-starved clit before inserting one finger in you, careful and gentle in his movements. "Huh? Don't worry, hon. You know I'm one of the strongest."

That was true; Mirio had asked to use you for weight training on multiple occasions. At first, you were of course offended and a little hesitant of what he implied by asking to use you as a dumbbell—but then he gladly clarified that he wanted to be able to lift you in order to be able to lift people who were in danger and also lift you especially for... multiple reasons.

And you couldn't really protest any. Mirio had already pumped two fingers in you a few times, licked the taste clean off his fingers, then delved in to eat you out like a man starved.

You held onto his drenched hair, trying not to lose balance—which was hard because of how hard he gripped your thighs around his head. The view was straight out of a raunchy romance novel. His muscles flexing almost erotically, soaking wet, droplets of water shining off his perfect figure. You wet (in more than one way), shaking from how good he was making you feel—feeling slightly ridiculous from the fact Mirio had turned him invading your shower into you indulging his pussy-whipped self.

He teased you, gave you long and short licks, going deep and shallow with he tongue-fucked you, alternated between devouring and nibbling on your clit.

And as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, he pulled a string of pornographic moans from you. When you finally came, he didn't come up for air or move out of the warm stream of the shower's waterfall until he was satisfied that he licked you through the orgasm and lapped all of you up.

You wavered on your feet, thankful that Mirio had the mind to lift you up and clean you both up. You imagined his knees were damn well sore, but he looked too pleased with himself for you to ruin his afterglow with trivial questions.

After he carried you both out of the bathroom, still slightly damp and smelling of your bodywash, he dumped you gently on the bed and crawled over to cuddle you. "New plan—nap before we go out?"

You smiled as he pulled a blanket over both of you. "Sounds good."

He hovered over you briefly before kissing your cheek, a reverent sigh escaping him. "Thanks for not killing me with your shampoo. I love you."

Giggling, you wrapped your arms around his neck and rolled atop his relaxed body. "I love you too, you perv."

---

The warmth of Mirio’s body was already intoxicating, but the way he trembled under your touch was something else entirely. His usual boundless confidence—the sunshine grin, the easy laughter—was slipping with every teasing brush of your fingers along his skin.

“[Name]…” his voice cracked, the edges of his composure fraying. His chest rose and fell too quickly, like he was fighting to stay steady.

You only smiled, leaning closer, letting your breath ghost across his ear. “You can handle it, right, Mirio? You’re always so strong.”

The praise—no, the challenge—made him shiver. He clenched his fists at his sides, desperate to anchor himself, but you didn’t let up. Every stroke, every kiss, every deliberate pause was designed to unravel him. He was too good, too eager to please, to say stop.

You watched him try. His jaw was tight, his knuckles pale where he pressed them against the sheets. He was holding on to control with everything he had.

“Look at you,” you whispered, brushing your lips against the corner of his mouth without granting a kiss. “So close, and I’m not even finished yet.”

A low, guttural sound escaped his throat—half groan, half plea. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, heat rolling off him in waves. You could feel how hard he was shaking, the way his breath stuttered against your neck.

“Please…” he rasped, the word barely audible. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

But you did. That was the point. When your hand moved again, slower this time, cruel in its patience, he snapped.

In a blur, your back hit the mattress. His weight pinned you down, his hands braced on either side of your head. His golden hair fell forward, shadowing his flushed face. But his eyes—those usually bright, kind eyes—were burning, stormy with heat and frustration.

“Enough.” The word was rough, dragged from deep in his chest.

You tried to smirk, to tease him again, but the look he gave you froze the sound in your throat. His restraint was gone. All that was left was raw need, the kind you’d been teasing out of him mercilessly.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” His voice was low, dangerous in a way you’d never heard from him. He leaned down, his nose brushing yours, his breath uneven. “I tried to hold back. For you. But you—” his lips grazed your jaw, sending a sharp jolt down your spine— “you just kept pushing.”

Your pulse thundered, anticipation coiling tight in your stomach. The air between you was suffocating, charged with something that made your skin feel too hot, your lungs too shallow.

He caught your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head like they weighed nothing, while his other hand traced slowly down your side. Not rushed, not gentle—possessive.

“You wanted me to lose control, didn’t you?” His voice was velvet over steel, both a question and an accusation.

Your breath hitched. You couldn’t answer, not when his weight pressed you down, not when the hunger in his gaze threatened to consume you whole.

His mouth hovered over yours, a cruel inch away, his smile no longer the bright sunshine grin you knew. This one was sharp. Dangerous.

“Careful what you wish for,” he murmured, before finally closing the distance.

← MHA ┆ NAVI →

a/n : it’s been like.. 2 months?