please support the doujinka

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/15020711.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero
Academia
Relationship: Kirishima Eijirou/Midoriya Izuku
Character: Midoriya Izuku, Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki
Additional Tags: Future Fic, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Awkward Flirting,
Conventions, Fluff, Humor, pro heroes, midoriya is thirsty, R18 doujins,
Gift Exchange
Collections: Kirideku Exchange
Stats: Published: 2018-06-23 Words: 4671

please support the doujinka

by clairesail

Summary

There’s a stack of magazines with a fan-drawn rendition of Kirishima on the

cover from which Midoriya picks up one of the booklets to leaf through. It
doesn’t take long before he realizes it’s an R18 publication. He snaps it shut
before the blush can fully bloom on his cheeks, but he’s intrigued, and the
images have already been imprinted in his brain. Something to do with taking
down a villain, and Red Riot’s pants getting torn off, and somehow his…

Midoriya attends a hero convention.

Notes

This is my gift for the KiriDeku Exchange 2018! For Slumber ♥ I hope you like it! ^_^

Also check out these cute fanarts by JellyMelonSoda over on twitter!

See the end of the work for more notes

Midoriya doesn’t make it a habit to attend hero conventions.

He’d like to, but his manager says it’s not a good look to be seen fanboying over other pro heroes
when he’s a pro hero himself. Much better if he limits the number to one or two a year so his
appearances can be marketed as “exclusive” and “premiere”. Those always turn out to be such dour
affairs though—he has to dress up in his costume, remain at a photo booth most of the time with a
fake smile plastered on his face so fans can get pictures with him, sign autographs until his hand
cramps—so that he ends up not having any time to savor the other tables and booths for himself or
check out any merch.

So it’s a miracle he convinces his manager to let him go to this con on his own.

It’s only under the condition that he wears a disguise though, not that it does a whole lot of good
with how recognizable he’s become. Being in the Top 10 means fame, even if he doesn't actually
care about all that. With his forest green curls stuffed under a baseball cap and his profile hidden
behind the popped collar of his tracksuit jacket, Midoriya manages to get in without having his cover
blown. No one pays attention to him, too wrapped up in the cosplay and exclusive merch all around
them. He feels silly attempting to go incognito like this, but he’s not here for attention; he’s here for
those sweet, limited-edition goods. There’s always All Might merch for purchase, and he knows
recently Todoroki and Bakugou had action figures crafted after them that he’s hoping to pick up.

Those are the booths he’s heading towards. The recent generation of heroes are usually hidden away
in the back since they don’t have as big a fanbase yet, but there’s lots of gems to be uncovered. A
large Shouto cardboard cutout catches his attention, and it’s as he’s making his way towards it that he
spots him. He’d recognize those pecs anywhere.

Kirishima in his hero costume, posing for pictures with fans. A lot of fans. Swarms of them—mostly
girls—are clamoring to be photographed with him, their touches and gazes lingering and sticking to
Kirishima like a layer of summer sweat. Midoriya feels uncomfortable just witnessing this; many of
them are clearly crossing the boundaries of good sense, and disrespecting his office as a hero in the
process of hoping to grope a titty.

Also, Midoriya wants to be the one to grope Kirishima's titties.

A booth Kirishima is standing near is decked out in overwhelming amounts of red, the entire surface
covered in merchandise: pins, booklets, patches, plushies, charms, shirts, posters, and so on. There’s
a crowd surrounding it, a queue formed with fans anxiously waiting with open wallets and coin
purses.

Huh. When did Kirishima get all this merchandise?

Midoriya tears his gaze away from those glistening titties (glistening? Did Kirishima coat them in oil
or is he really just that sweaty?) and shuffles closer to the table, squeezing his way through the crowd
to get a better view of the merch. He doesn’t have any Red Riot merch yet—he honestly hadn’t
expected there to be anything yet, considering Shouto and Ground Zero were far more popular and
were only just getting figures made—but upon closer inspection he sees it’s all fan-made items. That
makes sense, then. If there was anything official yet, Midoriya would already have three copies of it.

(That’s not weird, right? Friends support each other.)

There’s a stack of magazines with a fan-drawn rendition of Kirishima on the cover from which
Midoriya picks up one of the booklets to leaf through. It doesn’t take long before he realizes it’s an
R18 publication. He snaps it shut before the blush can fully bloom on his cheeks, but he’s intrigued,
and the images have already been imprinted in his brain. Something to do with taking down a villain,
and Red Riot’s pants getting torn off, and somehow his…

The booth attendant smiles at him, completely unperturbed by his inner turmoil. She doesn’t seem to
recognize who Midoriya is with his hair hidden, and he makes a mental note to buy his manager a
gift for her foresight in making him wear a disguise. “That’s 700 yen,” the attendant says.

Midoriya waffles, glancing between the booklet and the attendant. He hadn’t been planning on
buying any Kirishima merch, and certainly not anything fan-made, but the combination of the
attendant’s and other customers’ eyes on him mixed with his own curiosity win out. He digs into his
pocket and fishes out some coins, quickly paying and tucking the doujin into his tracksuit jacket
before anyone recognizes him. Or what he just purchased.

Just as he’s secured the magazine and steps away from the table, a familiar voice calls to him.

“Midoriya?”

He snaps his head up in the direction of it, mortified to see Kirishima flashing his thousand-watt
smile at him. Kirishima excuses himself politely and pries himself away from the small flock of
female fans surrounding him to their obvious dismay, and walks over, clapping a hand on Midoriya’s
shoulder.

“What are you doing here, bro?” He asks gaily, eyes soft as they look down at Midoriya. Regardless
of Midoriya’s growth spurt during third year, Kirishima’s still taller than him, still made of broad,
hard muscle with a face that’s open and kind.

Midoriya’s tongue feels thick in his mouth. “U-umm.”

Kirishima glances back at the table full of red merchandise where Midoriya had just been.
Kirishima’s cheeks color pink as he chuckles. “Oh, did you see all that stuff they got over there?”

“Um.”

“Kind of embarrassing, right?” Kirishima leans in, voice lowered as if sharing a secret.

Tension rolls off of Midoriya's shoulders. Kirishima doesn’t have to know how much he liked those
images, or that he can’t wait to shamefully take a longer look inside the doujin he bought. “Yeah, I,
uh—” He glances at the booth attendant and slides further away, just to be sure he’s out of earshot,
Kirishima following suit. “I can’t believe they have the guts to sell this stuff right in front of you.”

“It’s pretty brave, for sure!” Kirishima scratches at a spot under his ear absently. “I don’t really get
why anyone would want this stuff of me—feels a little deviant, but it’s also…”

“Flattering?”

“Yeah. Plus, it annoys Bakugou that there’s more fan merch of me than of him.”

“I have more real merch, not that I care about any of that nerd shit,” Bakugou interrupts with a pout
that’s at odds with his words, stepping up into the space behind Kirishima’s shoulder. He throws a
glower at Midoriya.

“Deku,” he says gruffly by way of greeting.

“Hey, Kacchan.”

Bakugou is also decked out in his hero costume, minus a few of the clunky bits. The grenadier
bracers are gone and his face mask hangs around his neck. He lifts a water bottle to his mouth as he
leans against Kirishima, eyes scanning the crowd. “Figures you’d come to one of these of your own
free will,” he mumbles around a sip.
Midoriya chooses to ignore the quip. “Are you guys here for publicity?”

“Yeah, our manager wanted us to take photos with fans,” Kirishima answers. The look on his face
makes it seem like he wants to say more, but it’s enough to convey all his boredom with what must
be a tedious way to spend their free time.

“I can’t believe the fucking gall of some of these people. Asking you to sign that kind of shit, like
we’re not real fucking heroes.”

Kirishima frowns at that, and Midoriya can’t help the nibbling of resentment that bubbles up. He’s
been a fan of heroes long before he became a hero himself, so while he agrees it’s uncouth, he can
also see where some of these fans’ minds are. Who wouldn’t want a saucy poster signed by Red
Riot?

“I’m sure whoever would buy something like that would only mean it in the best possible way,”
Midoriya says defensively. “It doesn’t mean they think less of you as a person.”

Bakugou narrows his eyes, and Midoriya knows he's said too much. Bakugou’s been privy to the
crush Midoriya’s had on Kirishima for basically as long as the crush has existed. It’s not that
Midoriya wanted him to know but… it’s Kacchan. He can’t keep secrets from him.

But Kirishima doesn’t seem to think anything of it. His frown smooths out and he gives a one
shoulder shrug. “Yeah, I guess not. Hey, who am I to judge, right?”

Midoriya laughs breathily. “Right.” He actually doesn’t have any idea what Kirishima’s talking
about, he just wants to drop the subject. Of course, it’s not that easy.

“It’s probably your damn BDSM costume,” Bakugou continues, because why wouldn’t he choose
this exact moment to be chatty for a change. “I’ve been telling you for ages, the face thing needs to
be redesigned. Or fucking scrapped altogether, you look like you’re ready to sexually torture villains
instead of detain them.”

Kirishima’s hands shoot up to affectionately caress his bondage gear—face mask, Midoriya corrects
internally—offense dripping from his expression. “My face mask is cool! Better than your enormous
bracers. Right, Midoriya?”

He squeaks. Even though Bakugou’s sending death glares at him over Kirishima’s shoulder, he can’t
deny it, he’d literally just been calling them clunky in his head. And as much as he admires and loves
Bakugou, he has more reason to take Kirishima's side. Most notably, the tits. Still, his natural impulse
is to be the mediator. “Um, I’m not sure why the two have to be compared…”

Kirishima pouts. Bottom lip juts out, big puppy eyes take on a sad tilt, and oh, Midoriya is evil, isn’t
he? Yes, he’s evil.

“I mean…,” he stammers, backpedaling to undo the damage and wipe that look off Kirishima’s face.

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Fuck, you’re easy,” he grumbles.

“What?” Kirishima asks, glancing back where Bakugou has stopped leaning on him to shake his
head. Midoriya's eyes are wide and pleading, begging for Bakugou to just this once take mercy on
him.

Bakugou huffs. “Nothing. Are you done with your pictures yet? I wanna get the fuck outta here.”

Midoriya lets out a sigh of relief. Crisis averted.

“Yeah, we've been here long enough. I'll go take down our table and pack up stuff.”

As soon as Kirishima is out of earshot, Bakugou pins Midoriya with a look of utter disgust.

“Damn, Deku. Not that I give a single fuck, but this is just painful to watch.”

“What do you mean?” he stammers out, even though he knows exactly what he means.

“How long since we graduated, and you still haven't done anything? Just fucking ask him on a date,
you know he's too nice to turn you down even if he realizes he can do better.”

Deku scoffs, though secretly he kinda agrees with Bakugou. Kirishima is amazing, probably too
good for him. Of course, he also knows Bakugou still says those kind of things to get a rise out of
him; they've moved way past their middle school bully-and-victim days, so if Bakugou’s telling him
to ask Kirishima out on a date, it’s not so Midoriya can make a fool of himself. Midoriya’s being
pathetic and they both know it.

“I don’t know how,” he admits quietly, looking away. His eyes search out Kirishima through the
crowd, and he sighs wistfully when he spots the tops of his crimson spikes over the other booths.

Bakugou’s heated stare is drilling holes in him, however, and his face goes up in flames. “And why
the fuck is that?” Bakugou berates. “You don’t know how to ask a simple question? Just tell him to
go out to dinner with you, it’s as fuckin’ simple as that.”

Midoriya frowns, fidgeting with his tracksuit zipper to dispel the nervous energy running through
him. “How would you know, Kacchan? When have you ever asked someone out on a date?”

“I go on plenty of dates.” Bakugou sneers, crossing his arms. “You should know, stalker—”

Bakugou stops mid-sentence, but Midoriya doesn’t notice right away how his eyes zero in on his
jacket. “Last time I checked, you said yourself you and Todoroki weren’t technically—”

“The fuck’s THAT?” Bakugou interrupts loudly, jabbing a finger at a spot on Midoriya’s chest.
Midoriya glances down, mouth falling open when he notices the doujin—the one with a half-naked
Red Riot on the cover—has slipped over and is peeking through the gap in his jacket.

He yelps. Grabs at his zipper to pull it back up, but Bakugou’s gloved fingers are already there
tugging it down.

“Ka-Kacchan!” Midoriya squeals, and feels his tremulous hold on reality slip away inch by inch as
each zipper tooth unhooks from each other. Before he can really stop him, Bakugou has unzipped his
jacket to his belly button and fishes the doujin out.

Midoriya lunges at him to take it back, but after a second of scrambling against air he notices the
large, smelly gloved palm pressed against his forehead, holding him at arm’s length just like when
they were kids. Bakugou’s still taller than him, too, but even though Midoriya can wield more
strength in his little finger than Bakugou can in his entire body, it’s not like he can just use his quirk
out in the open here.

He huffs, voice climbing into a whine. “Kacchan!” he hisses, and Bakugou finally snaps the doujin
shut.

“Tch. You really are a pervert, aren’t you, Deku?” He shoves the doujin back to Midoriya’s chest,
snickering with a hand over his mouth as Midoriya hastily hides the booklet back inside the safety of
his jacket. He makes sure to zip it up all the way to his throat, this time.
“It’s not what you think!” he sputters, but that only makes Bakugou laugh harder.

“Yeah?” Bakugou says through gasps for air. “And what am I thinking? Shit, I should show
Kirishima that. Let him know he’s been using his quirk the wrong way this whole time.”

With his arms draped over his face, Midoriya melts into the floor. Or he wishes he did. Bakugou’s
taunting laughter dies out pretty quickly, and when Midoriya looks up he sees Kirishima
approaching, expression curious. He’s dressed in a change of civilian clothes: a white t-shirt that’s a
little snug at the shoulders and a pair of jeans, with a bag over his shoulder Midoriya presumes holds
his hero costume.

“What are you two talking about?” Kirishima asks as he slips back in his spot beside Bakugou.

“Nothing!” Midoriya tries to sound natural, but it comes out as a screech.

Bakugou’s smirking. “Kirishima—”

“GO OUT TO DINNER WITH ME.”

Time stops. Or that’s how it feels to Midoriya. Bakugou looks ready to start laughing again, and
Kirishima frowns, thoughtful.

“Sure, man, I’m feeling a bit peckish,” Kirishima says easily, then almost as if in slow motion, turns
to face Bakugou. “We didn’t get much for lunch, right?”

Midoriya blinks. Bakugou’s lips pull back over his front teeth.

“What’s with that face?” Kirishima asks. “You gonna come with us?”

Bakugou stares at Midoriya for a long, tense second, giving him plenty of time to correct the
misunderstanding. Midoriya does not. Eventually, Bakugou answers unhurriedly, “Yeah, guess so.”

Midoriya couldn’t answer, you see: he’s swallowed his tongue. He’s sure of it.

Kirishima grins. “Alright, cool. Hey, our manager wants to speak to you real quick before we take
off.”

“Tch, what is it now…”

Midoriya grabs onto the distraction with all his might; now’s his chance to escape before Bakugou
exposes him. “We’ll just go wait over by the elevators, Kacchan.”

“Whatever, coward.”

“What was that all about?” Kirishima asks as Bakugou walks away.

Midoriya shakes his head. “Ah, nothing, you know how Kacchan is…”

“Heh, yeah. Do you know where you wanna eat? I’m craving ramen, I think there’s a shop not too
far...Did you drive or take the train?”

“I drove.”

“Cool. I think it’s raining out now, and I forgot my umbrella.”

“Oh, I have one. I put it in a coin locker at the front entrance…”

“HEY,” someone shouts over the low murmur of the crowd. “Is that Deku?!”

Midoriya startles like a deer caught in headlights, head jerking every which way to find the voice. It
doesn’t take long; the person is a young woman standing apart from others, pointing a finger at him,
drawing the attention of every other con-goer in the immediate vicinity.

Well, there goes flying under the radar.

Deku is being hauled away by a pull on his wrist. He goes with it, heart rising in his throat when he
sees it is Kirishima’s hand on him, tugging him along. His feet stumble to keep up as they zig-zag
around the throng to stop at the elevator doors. Kirishima hits the ‘down’ button. Midoriya watches
the lit up ‘1’ above the doors, waits for the ‘up’ arrow to light up.

“Is that really Deku? THE Deku?”

Kirishima glances behind them, and after a couple of seconds of waiting, he pulls Midoriya by the
wrist to round the corner and slam through the stairwell door. Kirishima pulls him behind him,
throwing a smile over his shoulder, the pair of them taking the stairs down in twos until they reach
the first floor. Only then does Kirishima stop running.

“Was that necessary?” Midoriya asks, and oh my god why is his voice so breathless? He’s pretty
sure his hands are shaking again, too, and Kirishima hasn’t let go of his wrist and his skin is so hot
and if Midoriya just moved his arm a bit they would be holding hands...

“Hey, if you wanna get swarmed by fans, be my guest,” Kirishima says. “But I say, let’s get out of
here so we can eat. Bakugou’s gonna be pissed we ditched him, though,” he adds as an afterthought,
and the warm look shining in his ruby eyes leaves Midoriya agreeing to whatever he says.

Turns out Kirishima was right: it is raining outside. Midoriya left his car in a paid parking lot not too
far away, on the other side of the convention center from the main entrance. They weave their way
through the crowds to the other side of the building and take a back exit, heads ducked low the
whole time to avoid being spotted again. As good as Midoriya’s disguise is, there’s just no hiding his
green curls for long. Locks keep spilling out from under the rim that he hurriedly tucks back under,
but by the time they reach outside there’s no point. It’s pouring.

“Well, shit.” Kirishima smiles, looking not at all bothered by the weather. “Where’s your car?”

Midoriya guides them through the rain. They run, sneakers splashing through puddles as Midoriya’s
umbrella tries and fails to keep them both dry. Kirishima hasn’t let go of Midoriya’s wrist. The
contact burns. Midoriya never wants him to let go. He feels energized.

By the time they get inside Midoriya’s car, they’re drenched. Kirishima laughs, bright and loud like
the rest of him, head tipping back to face the car roof, and shakes his head back and forth like a dog.
Drops of rainwater spray over Midoriya and all over the car interior, and when Kirishima stops he
has damp pieces of red clinging to his face and neck. The gel in his hair has been mostly washed out,
but a few stubborn pieces desperately hold on to their style.

Midoriya thinks with a rush of air exiting his lungs, that he looks way too cute.

And as if this wasn’t bad enough, the front of Kirishima’s white t-shirt is soaked through, allowing
the fabric to cling to his pecs. Somehow, even though Kirishima has The Man Tiddies™ out more
often than not, they look more sinful covered up and wet like this.

Kirishima lifts his hips off the car seat to pull his phone out of his back pocket and types in it.
“Gonna tell Bakugou where we’re at so he can meet us,” he mumbles. His phone buzzes almost
immediately after, and he hums thoughtfully. “That’s weird. Bakugou says to just go eat without
him.”

Midoriya bites his lip to keep from smiling. Kacchan cares…! Yes, that’s what he’ll choose to
believe. It’s totally not his way to get Midoriya to embarrass himself even more, or because he
doesn’t want to suffer through his awkward flirting.

With a subdued smile, he starts the car. Though it’s raining out, the air is warm, and the interior of
the car is quickly becoming humid and musty. He turns on the air conditioner, but the cool air makes
him shiver. And makes Kirishima’s nipples harden. Just like in the doujin! Oh no.

“You know, we can’t go to a restaurant like this.” Kirishima says, gesturing to himself. “You live
close, how about we just eat in?”

“Eat in?” Midoriya echoes.

Unbidden, fantasies of Kirishima on his bed spring forth and he has to mash his lips together to
contain a squeal. Why is he thinking of that?

Stupid doujin!

“Yeah,” Kirishima continues, oblivious to the lewd thoughts swarming Midoriya’s mind. “You got
food at home, right? Don’t you live pretty close by? We can dry off and relax.”

Right. His house. Kirishima wasn’t using that as a euphemism for sex, of course. He meant actual
food and actual eating.

“S-sure!”

Kirishima’s hand falls heavy on his shoulder. “Hey, man, you alright? You’ve seemed kinda…
spacey today?”

Midoriya exhales, looks at the genuine concern on Kirishima’s face. What is he doing? It’s just
Kirishima-kun. It’s just a meal. Regardless of what Bakugou wants to happen, it’s not going to
happen. Kirishima is his friend and always will be, there’s nothing to be nervous about. They’ll just
head back to his place, eat some noodles or something, and hang out. Low-key, no expectations,
nothing to fret over.

“Sorry.” Midoriya shakes his head. The hand on his shoulder squeezes tight before drawing back. “I
guess I’ve been dealing with some stuff and um, coming here was supposed to relax me but then I
didn’t really...get to...look at anything.”

“Ah, I’m sorry, we can—?” Kirishima points back at the convention center looming in the distance.
“Though honestly bro, your disguise is not the best.”

“I know, I know.”

“We can try if you really—”

“No no no.” Midoriya waves his hands. “Don’t worry about it! It was, you’re right, I should have
prepared something better.”

“Maybe you should have added some shades. To go with the baseball cap? Works for Captain
America.”
Midoriya laughs. Is Kirishima flirting with him? No, he can’t be.

But by god is his smile breathtaking.

Kirishima speaks. “On second thought I don’t know if even that would have worked. It works for
Captain America cuz he’s sorta ordinary but someone like you stands out no matter what.”

Someone...like him? Stands out?

But Midoriya is plain. That’s not a compliment, is it?

Midoriya’s grin wanes. “Yeah… I guess so?”

Kirishima bites his lip. “I think that came out wrong.”

“Sure, sure.” Midoriya pulls the car into reverse and starts backing out of the parking spot, Kirishima
still stumbling over his words.

“I meant you’re like, extraordinary? B-because of who you are as a hero and a person? And I think
you’re a really great and it’s no surprise you’re so popular and everyone would want to get your
autograph and take a picture with you and I’m gonna shut up now cuz I don’t know what I’m talking
about anymore.”

Midoriya steals a glance as he drives. Kirishima’s looking out the side window now, cute little
pointed teeth digging into his bottom lip. He’s gonna puncture a hole through it if he doesn’t stop
chewing on it.

“Thanks, Kirishima. You know, I’ve always thought you were pretty amazing too. Your quirk is
really strong and dependable, and you have the true heart of a hero, I think. Since we’re being
honest…um, I’ve always admired you and how you get along with everyone. I admire…you.”

Kirishima fiddles with the window, tracing invisible shapes on the glass and smiling shyly. “I…I
don’t know what to say,” he mumbles.

Yeah, Midoriya was right. Kirishima isn’t interested in him that way, but at least he got a little bit of
his feelings off his chest. They’re probably better off as friends, anyway.

The drive to Midoriya’s apartment is spent in comfortable silence. The musty smell in the car goes
away, replaced by something heady and enticing, overpowering and masculine. It’s like salt and
earth, pleasant and thick on Midoriya’s tongue, promising warmth. It’s Kirishima’s scent.

They talk about very little on the drive. There’s really no need to; his place isn’t far, and he can tell
they’re both still digesting the honest words from before. It really shouldn’t have come as a shock, as
it’s not the first time they’ve excitedly proclaimed their wonder at the other. Kirishima’s like a gust of
strong, fresh wind to Midoriya’s spark, not too harsh to snuff it out, just enough strength to fan it into
a roaring flame. Kirishima’s encouragement always makes him feel invincible; if he were to fight a
villain right now he knows he could tackle anything that came at him.

He used to wonder before, what it was that kept the friendship between Kirishima and Bakugou
going so strong for so long, but it makes sense when he thinks about it that way. Of course Bakugou
would want to be near someone who makes him feel invincible, who can effortlessly prop him up,
who he can depend on. Midoriya feels the same way.

He always wants to be near Kirishima.

 By the time they reach his front door, soaked again from the downpour, Midoriya’s hands are no
longer shaking. He unzips his sopping jacket as he walks into the foyer, eager to get out of his wet
clothes.

“I don’t have much in the way of food, I think I have a bag of frozen fried rice…” The hairs at the
back of his neck stick up, and his sentence trails off. Something is off, is not right. He turns around
slowly, panic rising as he sees Kirishima bending over to retrieve something from the floor.

THE DOUJIN!

“Kirishima..?” he whispers, entire body tensing up as his fight-or-flight response kicks in. He can
feel One For All zapping and sparking through his limbs, and it’s with great difficulty he wills it
away.

Kirishima doesn’t answer, doesn’t say anything. His face gives nothing away as he slides the booklet
from the protective plastic sleeve carefully, opening it up to somewhere in the middle.

How the hell did that end up on the floor? How did it..? Midoriya glances down at his damp tracksuit
jacket crumpled up in his hands. Right, he’s a certified idiot. How could he have forgotten about the
fucking doujin?

Kirishima’s still looking through it, thumbing to another page slowly, tilting his head slightly as if to
get a better view. Midoriya only hopes he’s still on one of the innocent pages before the Kirishima in
the book starts to lose his clothes, but the way this Kirishima’s eyelid twitches dashes that fantasy.
He’s definitely at the sex part. He only hopes the tentacles haven’t showed up yet.

“I—” His voice is thin. “I can explain, I—” He can’t explain. “It was, the attendant, you see, she—”

“Midoriya.” Kirishima looks up, then. “Do you wanna read this together?” The corner of his lips
quiver, and it’s then Midoriya notices the blush on his cheeks, the glimmer in his crimson eyes, the
heavy rise and fall of his broad chest.

Oh.

“Yes,” he murmurs, and his hands are shaking again.

End Notes

I forgot to mention! Thank you to K for beta-ing this and making it readable ♥♥♥

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!