#actual tears in my eyes

prettyboykatsuki:

ღ what being loved by them feels like | bnha edition ღ

➳ incl. midoriya, bakugo, todoroki, and kirishima. 

➳ tags / warnings ;; food ment, alcohol ment. 

➳ wc ;;1.9k

➳ a/n ;; should be gn i think but im tired asf so lmk

i. midoriya izuku

Slow. 

It’s an unspoken promise of forever tucked under his tongue when he speaks to you. The comfort of a strong hand on your shoulder, an arm around your waist as he whispers to you some drunken secret. It’s not meant to be romantic, not exactly - when your friends ask you about it you always respond the same way. 

“It’s just Midoriya,” with a passive glance somewhere else, a dismissive hand shaking away the disbelief that someone so extraordinary could love you. It is disbelief, effervescent in how it fills your stomach with that tingly feeling. Midoriya takes it slowly. 

Being loved by him feels like a Sunday. Not in how it’s the mark of something but a reminder of repition, how good it feels to do something over and over again. There is so much to love about a Sunday afternoon, the comfort of knowing there is always another Sunday that comes after. That the luxury of warmth that stretches so far it is no longer a commodity. 

You don’t have to worry about when the next time will be. Midoriya loves you in a such a way that next time is every time. That your happiness is not something to supplement but to nurture - with presence and patience and tender care. You wonder how someone with such reckless abandon can love so carefully, with nimble fingers that zip up the back of your dress when you ask. 

Midoriya loves you with his hands. Always with gnarled flesh and scars to the bone - that brush so eagerly against your own. Sometimes, he blushes. He never gets used to your comfortable intimacy - not at first. That slow love has a habit of being embarassing. It’s friendly, supposed to be anyways. But something about the way he’s encased your hand with his, the silence the blossoms and blooms. You wonder if he’s always been so warm - you tell him as much. 

He replies with a gentle voice, a wistful smile and reply - “Only for you,” 

You stare at him, wide-eyed - like somehow this is some kind of confession, and he laughs. He laughs deep from his chest and the sound is too much. Midoriya has loved you so slowly, you seem not to have realized that every word from his mouth is a confession. It’s sweet, sticky like honey how it drips onto your tongue. You find yourself drinking it without thinking, without realizing how it’s the only thing you can taste when he’s next to you. 

Being loved by him is a slow feeling - the kind of love that stretches comfortably over time like old jeans. He always seems to fit you just right, like he was made for you. He likes to think so, anyway. 

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