Work Text:
It was just the average day for the Hero Duo.
Routine coverage of the city’s shopping district, a quiet area where little more than purse snatchers or reckless teens ever made trouble. But the quiet had shattered around 2 p.m., when a trio of quirked robbers detonated a hole in the wall of the Musutafu Bank, tossing cash into the street and leaping to rooftops with momentum quirks.
Pro Hero Deku had moved fast, “just like All Might,” as many liked to compare the Mentor and Apprentice. Uraraka had been right behind him, her quirk neutralizing two of the runners midair, sending them weightless and scrambling. It took ten minutes. Maybe twelve. Nothing serious.
Thankfully, nothing more had gone down after that. The day went on just as usual, to the two’s disappointment. They still had more than enough energy. Maybe a little too much.
After that whole day’s patrol, the two were slightly sore, but still rearing to go. They didn’t bother speaking much, just silence on the way to their shared apartment. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that builds tension instead of easing it. Glances were shared that lasted too long, hands brushing more than enough times to be “just accidents” during cleanup, and that slightly fast way Izuku said “good job back there,” his ears pink and voice tight. Uraraka had noticed. Of course she had.
And the moment the door shut behind them, with no danger left, no city to protect, no hero masks to wear — it all broke loose.
“Izuku—”
His name came out as a breathless gasp as he pushed her gently against the wall of the narrow hallway, still in their costumes, eyes wide with something frantic under the surface. His gloved hands cupped her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks as though checking for injuries, but his eyes kept flicking down — lips, chest, hips — like he couldn’t stop himself.
“I—sorry— I’ve just— I’ve been holding this in since the rooftop,” he said, voice hoarse, almost cracked. “The way you moved, and that— I mean, you were amazing, Ochako. God, I wanted to— I need to—”
He broke off, kissed her instead, full and rough and desperate. Not practiced. Not polished. Just full of need. It was always like that with the two of them.
Uraraka’s fingers fumbled at his uniform straps, and she smiled shakily against his lips. “Then don’t hold back.”
She saw it as soon as it had appeared. There was that familiar flicker in his eyes, the slight change in the way he acted. That switch. It was still Izuku, it was still him, still sweet, still awkward, still her beloved — but the moment those words left her lips, the weight behind his control snapped like a line gone taut for too long.
His mouth trailed down her neck as he pulled her toward the bedroom, steps clumsy but determined. When the door shut behind them, she reached for her belt, but he caught her wrists.
“No,” he said softly. “Let me do it.”
His voice trembled, but his hands didn’t. He stripped her with a carefulness that belied the shaking in his breath, removing each layer like it mattered, even when she squirmed, half-naked and flushed already. When she reached for him, he stopped her with a single word. “Wait.”
And then, green light.
A spark of One For All danced across his arm as he activated just enough to press her back into the mattress with a firm, pulsing weight, like an invisible pressure holding her in place, heavier than his hands but gentler than restraint. Uraraka gasped as the quirk gripped her body like a handprint of energy, her own reflexively activating in response. The gravity lessened around her skin, nerves heightening.
“Izuku,” she whispered, chest heaving, thighs already slick. “You’re really doing this…”
He leaned over her, still half-dressed, and let his forehead rest against hers.
“I want you,” he said, softly, intensely. “I want you full. I want to feel you under me, around me, take you until there’s no room for anything else.”
Her body answered before her mouth did — legs parting, hips tilting. Her quirk flickered, making her limbs almost hover, sensitive, featherlight. “Let me.”
His composure broke with a choked groan.
The first push in was slow, not because he was teasing her, but because he couldn’t stop himself from watching her react. The way her eyes fluttered shut. The way her thighs shook. The way her lips parted in a moan as he sank inside inch by trembling inch, her body sucking him in like she’d been made for it.
“Fuck— you’re so— perfect— so beautiful” he whispered, barely holding himself steady as he bottomed out. “You’re so— hot and tight, I can’t—”
“Move,” she begged, ready and wanting, gyrating her hips like she’s already lost control. “Izuku, just move— ”
He did.
The rhythm started awkward, almost frantic, like always. Hips bucking, hands gripping her waist with a strength she could feel in her bones, and then it settled into something deep. Deep and steady and possessive, each thrust pushing her up the bed, her back arching with every thrust. Her quirk kept activating in waves, making her body float beneath him, hypersensitive, weightless , all while One For All pressed her back down again with every snap of his hips.
Their quirks danced around each other. Power layered over pleasure.
“Gonna fill you,” he whispered against her ear, panting now, thrusts getting rougher. “Gonna put it deep , make sure it sticks. Ochako— I want to—”
Her breath came in pleasure-filled moans. She was so full, so happy, so content, not just of him, but of everything he poured into her. His adoration, his need, his trembling desire to plant something permanent inside her.
She came hard, toes curled, hands fisting his hair, lips searching for the other half, tongue needing the taste of him, legs squeezing, wrapped around him, and head thrown back as her quirk spiked and sent them both half-floating off the bed for one long, suspended second.
“ Izuku! —” She moaned his name like a prayer.
That pushed him over.
With a groan, her beloved slammed into her one final time and came — hard, deep, hips grinding down as his cock twitched inside her, thick spurts of heat spilling straight into her womb. He stayed there, locked tight, forehead pressed to hers, hands shaking as he felt her pulse around him, milk him for everything he got, soaking in the feeling of pure bliss whenever they were like this, together and whole.
They didn’t speak for a while.
Just breathing. Heartbeats. Her legs still wrapped around his waist. His length twitching inside her with every aftershock.
When he finally pulled back just enough to look at her, she was smiling. Face stuck in that dreamy expression, wrecked, still flushed. She reached up and cupped his cheek.
“Izuku,” she whispered. “I think you really meant that.”
He nodded. No awkward laugh. No nervous deflection.
“I did,” he said simply. “I meant all of it.”
Then he looked down, to where he was still buried inside her, to the slick mess of her thighs, to the way her hips twitched like they were already rearing to go again. His hand moved to her stomach, splayed wide.
“…We’re not done,” he murmured, a little breathless.
Ochako’s grin widened, squeezing her lover's body between her legs as she dripped, and dripped, and dripped.
“No,” she whispered. “We’re really not.”