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A Waxing, Wailing Moon

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Shouto’s body has never been his.

He’s always known this, because it is obvious. He is physically strong, because his father demanded that he be strong. He has a powerful quirk, because his father molded him like clay, sinking his fingers into Shouto until he decided that he liked Shouto’s shape. Who he would be was decided from birth. Shouto has never had a choice in any of this.

But, when he thinks about that injustice, his mind starts to wonder, and he isn’t certain that he likes where it goes.

Two weeks ago, in the UA dormitories, when the lights were dim and everyone else was lost in the comforting realm of dreams, Shouto woke up.

He had dreamt - and was dreaming - of himself. But in his dreams, he’s undeniably fat, with rounded cheeks and a hanging stomach and curves from where his hips flare out.

When he first saw himself, looking like that in his dreams, he thought that he should be ashamed.

But he looks beautiful, in his dreams. He looks absolutely, ridiculously beautiful.

He finds himself looking at people when he wakes up - people like Uraraka-san, who are larger than what would be considered average. She has big, pillowy thighs, and a soft doughy stomach, and she’s beautiful, and she’s a hero - easily one of the greatest among them.

He would still be strong, even if he did choose to gain weight. He could easily still be a hero.

And his dreams - his dreams refuse to leave him. He keeps looking at bigger people. He keeps feeling the lines of his chest and how harsh they are, how ferocious the hardness of his legs is, and he thinks about roundness. He thinks about holding his own softness in his hands, the meat of his thighs curving as he sat, the roundness of his ass filling out his pants. When he thinks about this, he feels - yes, he feels dirty, but there’s something more to it.

He feels a deep-set sense of longing, that permeates his being in ways that he can’t describe. He knows that there’s nothing pure or simple about gaining weight - it’s not bad, or good, but something that simply is. It won’t change him.

But god, he wants it.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Izuku asks.

“I…” Shouto starts. “I… have you heard of feederism?”

Izuku flushes, and then darkens even further, and suddenly it would be no exaggeration to say his face looks like a strawberry, with all of his freckles as the seeds.

“I…” He stutters. “I can’t really say that I haven’t.”

Shouto feels something like anticipation swell up hot in his gut.

“How much do you know?” Shouto asks, and his voice is as calm as he can manage.

“More than I probably should.” Izuku responds, and his voice shakes like the wings of a dragonfly. “There’s someone who gains weight, and there’s someone who helps them.”

“Izuku.” Shouto rumbles, and he doesn’t mean for his voice to come out like that, but the small squeak that Izuku makes makes it entirely worth it. “Could you…”

“Do you want to gain weight, Shouto?” Izuku interrupts him, softly.

Shouto shudders, because that’s it, isn’t it? Boil all of his thoughts and anxiety about this down to their simplest components, and what you get is the fact that Shouto wants to gain weight - that’s all there is to it.

“Yes.” He says, finally. “Yes. Can… Can you help me?”

Izuku is quiet, for a moment, before he asks, “Are you sure? We’re about to become professional heroes. I’m - I’m not sure if this is something you could easily take back.”

Shouto snorts, just a little, because of course Izuku, in two seconds, can think of something Shouto hasn’t ever considered. “This shouldn’t make a difference to people.” Shouto says, quietly. “I don’t care about popularity, and I can save them all the same. What does it matter?”

Izuku is silent, before he leaps forward and hugs Shouto, tight. “I love you.” Izuku says, teary-eyed. “And I’ll support you no matter what.”

Shouto kisses him, long and deep and slow, and some of Izuku’s tears drop down onto his face. When he pulls apart, his cheeks are wet, too.

“Thank you.” He says, so deeply grateful that he doesn’t know how to express it. “Thank you.”

“We’ve got the rest of today free.” Izuku says. “Do you want to start now?”

Shouto flushes. “We… we could.”

Izuku giggles, just a little. “I’ll go to the store and grab some things. You just sit tight.”

And Shouto does. He can’t even bring himself to move, from his little space in the apartment they got together. They began renting it as soon as the left UA, and now, together, they’ll officially be heroes in about a month, when all of the remaining paperwork is filed.

It is a time for beginnings - many, many beginnings. This is but one more.

Izuku opens the back door, arms laden with goods.
He sets them down on the table in front of Shouto, and looks Shouto in the eyes.

“Okay.” he says. “I got you a bunch of nutritionally-dense foods, like nuts and pastas and yogurts. If we’re going to do this, I want us to be healthy about it.”

Shouto smiles, because, again, he hadn’t thought of that either. “Thank you, Izuku.”

“No problem, sweetie.” Izuku says, matching his smile.

“Also,” Izuku says. “have you put any thought into how far you want this to go?”

Finally - something Shouto did think about.

“I’m currently at about 160 pounds.” Shouto says. “And most of that’s muscle. I think I’d like to go up to around 200? I know it’s a lot, but…”

“Whatever you want.” Izuku says. “This is about you.”

“But in that case, we’re going to have to pace ourselves.” Izuku says. “I don’t want you to be unhealthy. While I was at the store, I was typing up a little spreadsheet on my phone of how quickly you ought to gain weight based on your increase in caloric consumption…”

Izuku begins to mumble and Shouto can’t stop himself from giggling, but lets him continue.

It’s… nice, he thinks, to have someone else as determined to see this through as he is. To have someone who cares this deeply about him. A few years ago, it would have been more than he ever would have expected. It would have been more than he ever thought he deserved.

“Izuku.” He says, interrupting his boyfriend and the best friend he has ever had. “I trust you implicitly. Just feed me.”

Izuku flushes again, and this time it’s somehow even darker.

“Okay.” He says. “Okay.”

He grabs one of the bags and takes out a vegetable pizza, laden with greens and cheese.

“I know that I said that I want you to be healthy about this.” Izuku says. “And traditional feederism isn’t healthy. I don’t want to stuff you full of unhealthy foods until you can’t move.”

Izuku stops, for a moment, before covers his mouth with his hands, and Shouto blushes deeper than he thinks he ever has in his life.

“Perhaps we’ll reserve that for special occasions, then.” Izuku squeaks. “But I got you a pizza, just so we could… Try to do this the traditional way, if only once.”

Shouto eyes the pizza, and his eyes widen. It’s at least 20 inches in diameter - bigger than he’s ever eaten by himself.

“Here, Shouto.” Izuku says, and grabs the first slice.

Shouto bites it gently, and then chews quickly, meeting Izuku’s eyes. He swallows the first piece down easily - then the second. Then the third.

He’s halfway done with the pizza before his stomach starts to protest.

“Oh, you’re not done yet, are you, Shouto?” Izuku says sweetly, and Shouto’s head whips up in surprise. “I bought this whole pizza just for you, and you’re only going to eat half of it?”

Shouto feels heat travel straight to his groin, and he has to resist the urge to moan.

Jesus, Izuku.” Shouto says. “How much feeder porn have you been watching?”

“Hush, you.” Izuku stutters, but he’s smiling. He takes another slice, and holds it in front of Shouto. “You have more pizza to eat.”

Shouto eats it out of his hand, and his stomach protests with a loud rumble. He looks down, and to his shock, it’s slightly distended, pushing gently against the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Are you uncomfortable, sweetheart?” Izuku purrs, stepping into his role. “We can’t have that when you have so much left to finish.”

He moves towards Shouto and, without warning, massages Shouto gently, his hands rubbing across the slight bubble of Shouto’s stomach.

“Does that feel good, baby?” Izuku asks, gently, and Shouto feels his dick harden faster than it ever has before, because this is real now, isn’t it? All of his fantasies, the endless night hours spent imagining himself softer, are coming to fruition, now. There’s no taking this back.

Izuku grabs another slice and he eats it as fast as he can out of Izuku’s hand, licking the remnants off of Izuku’s fingers while meeting his eyes.

Shouto.” Izuku moans, and Shouto, spurred forward, takes a whole finger and pops in it his mouth, covering it with his saliva. He twirls his tongue around the digit and moves his lips along its length before popping his mouth off, leaving a trail of saliva from the finger to his lips.

“Feed me, Izuku.” Shouto murmurs, low in his throat, and Izuku does. He feeds Shouto another slice, and another, and another, until there’s only one slice left and Shouto’s full to bursting.

“Baby, you’ve got this.” Izuku murmurs. “You’ve been so good for me, and you’re gonna get so big. Can you do this for me?”

Shouto moans, and he opens his mouth once more. Izuku gently places the slice inside, and he chews, his bites as large as he can manage.

“You’re such a good boy, Shouto.” Izuku murmurs, and he kisses Shouto’s distended stomach. “Such a good boy.”

Shouto swallows the last of the pizza and kisses Izuku on the lips ravenously.

Izuku breaks away with a delighted little gasp and moves closer to Shouto. He lifts Shouto’s shift off and slides down Shouto’s body, along his throat and pert nipples to his stomach, which is bigger than Shouto has ever seen it. Izuku lingers there for a moment, sliding his tongue along Shouto’s gut, before landing at Shouto’s dick. “You deserve a reward, for doing so well.” He murmurs.

“Tell me what you want, Shouto.” Izuku whispers, and he looks Shouto in the eyes and takes Shouto’s breath away. His eyes are gorgeous, so black you can hardly see the green, and they’re so filled with heat that they make Shouto catch fire.

“Suck my dick, Izuku.” Shouto gasps. “Please, please, Izuku.”

Izuku quickly undoes the clasp of his pants and mouths Shouto’s dick through his sodden underwear. His tongue traces the head, and then grips the elastic with his teeth before pulling it off with the flourish, and Shouto whines as his dick is exposed to the cold air.

Izuku places his hand around Shouto’s shaft and puts his tongue on his balls, and it feels exquisite, like things Shouto has never known to name.

Izuku takes one of Shouto’s balls in his mouth and touches it with his teeth, and Shouto comes with a shout, with a roar, as all of the pressure building inside of him releases and he whites out with a feeling of thankfulness, and relief.

When Shouto comes to, Izuku has a white stain on the front of his pants and a look of blissful satisfaction on his face.

“Oh,” Izuku says, dreamily. “This is gonna be fun.”



After that, Shouto starts gaining weight in earnest, and Izuku eagerly helps him. He makes Shouto milkshakes, with thick yogurts and nut butters. Shouto eats avocados and huge bowls of rice, with milk and butter and eggs. He doubles his caloric intake and doesn’t exercise, remaining glued to the couch as Izuku hand-feeds him dried fruits and dark chocolates.

The changes, when they start coming, come quickly, like a joyful, torrential rain - Shouto is awash in them.

The weight comes to his stomach, first. He wakes up one morning on his side, curled up against Izuku, and notices how his stomach pools in the bedsheets, sagging to touch the mattress.

When Izuku notices where he’s staring, he smiles, delightedly, and moves to touch Shouto.

Shouto shivers as Izuku’s fingers sink deep into him, and his body gives under Izuku’s hands. He loves this feeling. He absolutely adores this feeling in himself.

But he’s very accustomed to not getting what he wants. Shouto, in his nineteen years on Earth, has had plenty of time to get adjusted to disappointment.

“I just want to make sure,” Shouto says, because he needs affirmation, because he’s spent too many years doubting himself. “That you’re completely okay with me gaining weight. Are you still attracted to me, when I’m like this?”

“I like you like this.” Izuku says, and he looks Shouto directly in the eyes, even as his cheeks color.

“I think I might like you better like this, if I’m honest.” He says, and he takes Shouto’s hand gently.

“Me, too.” Shouto says, and he’s thankful - he’s so goddamn thankful. He’s not religious, but he wants to thank God Almighty and all that is good for Midoriya Izuku, because Shouto’s been counting his lucky stars since the day they met, and he still hasn’t numbered them all. With Izuku, he’s allowed to be every size and side of himself, and every day he wakes up and feels something gorgeously, gloriously new.

The next new thing was the weight that goes to his ass, funnily enough. He sleeps on his stomach, most days, when he isn’t sleeping on Izuku, and he wakes up one morning starfished under their pink-purple sheets with an itch on the back of his leg. When he reaches back to scratch it, he pauses, and runs his hand over himself. He still has a good bit of muscle, because he still needs to be strong, and his butt, in the past, was fairly shapely as a result.

Now, it feels to have almost doubled in size. He turns around, looking at himself under the blankets, and his ass towers of the rest of him, protruding above the gentle curve of his back. Once he realizes, the world shifts accordingly: he notices that his pants won’t zip anymore, and he stars wearing over large sleepshirts around the house exclusively. When he goes through his closet, his stomach rolls over the top of whatever he puts on, and even his underwear are incredibly tight, showing the smooth curve of his bottom.

He’s aware of these changes, sure, but only individually. He’s never been very observant. Shouto has a way of not paying much attention to much of anything, and things sneak up on him. So one day, when Izuku is gone and their apartment is echoing and silent, he stands in front of the mirror in their bedroom, and looks at himself to take inventory - to learn just how much he’s changed.

He looks exactly - exactly - how he looked in his dreams. His face is round and fleshy, his cheekbones hidden by a soft layer of fat. His stomach is prominent, protruding forward when viewed from the side, and it gives easily when he sticks his fingers in it. He has stretch marks, red and veiny, on the underside of his stomach and on the sides of his legs. He has hips, the fat having migrated to his sides, and when he experimentally moves around, the fat on his bottom moves with him, dancing from side to side.

He sits down on the bed, and his stomach sits comfortably between his legs, resting on his dick. His thighs spread outward, seeming to expand in size, and when he sighs, all of him settles into softness.

Shouto has been many things, over the course of his life. He’s always been quietly accommodating: even when he was younger, he was not much one for protest. He never complained; he simply did, because it was easier, because it was simpler, and because sometime too many years ago, Todoroki Shouto decided that he wasn’t someone who got what he wanted.

But this - his body, this moment, this feeling of contentment - these things are his. Gaining weight isn’t something that most people would consider desirable, perhaps, but Shouto doesn’t give a single shit. His body looks like this because he wanted it to: this, this right here, is what self-possession feels like. Shouto is fat, and it has absolutely nothing to do with anyone else.

But before he wanted this for himself, he wanted to be a hero, and, in a moment of inspiration, he grabs his hero costume and slides it on, as best he can.

It catches on his thighs, first, clinging tight to the fullness of his legs. When he manages to pull it up fully, it stretches thin over the globes of his ass, squeezing him incredibly tight.

He grabs the shirt, and it gets stuck on his chest, barely managing to fit. He pulls it down as far as it will go, and it refuses to cover his stomach, his doughy abdomen sticking out over his pants. He grabs the belt and tries to fasten it over himself, but it’s entirely too tight, so he abandons it.

He looks in the mirror again, and sees himself.

The costume is straining to contain him, nearly see-through on the sides of his thighs and on the back of his bottom. It flares out with his hips, and his stomach is entirely visible, pushing outward in its soft roundness. His nipples are immediately apparent, pushing fiercely against the fabric, and the costume is tight on his limbs, too.

He gives out a gasping little laugh, and covers his mouth with his hands.

It might be a little silly to say that he’s been growing, but it’s what this feels like all the same. Shouto has never felt more attractive in his life, his body has never felt more his, and he has never felt more at ease.

“Shouto?” Izuku asks, poking his head through the bedroom door.

He makes direct eye-contact with Shouto, and drops everything he was holding.

Shouto.” Izuku whispers, leaps at him.

“You look so gorgeous, sweetheart.” Izuku says fervently into his mouth.

“I know.” Shouto says, and he’s still laughing, in a giddy, tinkling way that’s he’s not sure that he can stop.

“That looks a little tight, though.” Izuku says. “Do you mind if I take it off for you?”

Shouto nods, and Izuku’s eyes go feral before he rips the whole costume off with One-For-All.

Shouto gasps, and his dick swells to attention as he falls back on the bed, Izuku leaning over him.

Izuku quickly throws his shirt off and shimmies out of his pants before he leans over Shouto, his whole body made of hard lines and gorgeous swells of muscle. His hair is in curly disarray, and his freckles are everywhere, dotting his shoulders and the whole of his chest.

Shouto gives him as daring of a smile as he can manage, and Izuku kisses him desperately. They fight inside of each other’s mouths for a moment, tongues swirling as they feel for each other’s heat, before Izuku flips Shouto over with a quick movement and Shouto lies in front of him, ass in the air.

“Shouto.” Izuku murmurs, fondly, before he digs his hands into the thick globes of Shouto’s ass, spreading him apart and making him keen.

“Izuku…” He says, voice trembling. He turns his head back and Izuku looks at him with a dangerous grin, and he shudders deep.

“I’ve got you.” Izuku purrs, and sticks his tongue straight into Shouto’s ass.

Shouto whines, and his legs thrash until Izuku holds him down, hands wrapped around Shouto’s ankles. Izuku eats him out, slowly at first, before he starts going faster and faster until Shouto can’t do anything but sob.

“Izuku, please.” He moans.

“What do you want, Shouto?” Izuku pants.

“Fuck me - please, Izuku.” Shouto’s ass bucks in the air without his consent, and Izuku groans, “Yes, Shouto.”

He grabs the lube they keep by the bedside table and coats his fingers in it before stretching Shouto open with a practiced stretch of his fingers. He does it quickly, but methodically, until Shouto is nothing but the feeling of Izuku’s hands and a shimmering, desperate anticipation. Izuku slips a condom on in a smooth, easy movement, and lines up behind Shouto before ramming straight into him.

Shouto has to stifle a scream, and he writhes as Izuku fucks him again, and again, and again.

“You’re so beautiful, Shouto.” Izuku murmurs. “I love you when you’re like this, all desperate and unfurling. Talk for me, baby, c’mon.”

“Izuku.” Shouto whimpers, because what else could he be expected to say? “Izuku, Izuku.”

Izuku fucks him once more and hits him straight in the prostate, and when he comes it’s overwhelming, like riding a wave until it takes you under. Shouto is drowning, and he is one with the water.

When he blinks off the afterimages, Izuku is breathing in slowly, contentment clear in all of the lines of his body. Shouto scoots closer to him and Izuku curls around him, spooning him from behind.

They sit together in a soft silence for a few moments, before Izuku says, “You never let go like that, before all of this.”

Shouto stays silent for a moment, because that was true, wasn’t it? He always felt restrained, before, in ways that he could never describe to himself. If his body was not his, it was not his to use as he pleased. If his body was not his, no wonder he could never let go.

“Yeah.” Shouto says, finally. “But… I don’t think that’ll be a problem, anymore.”

Izuku giggles behind him. “You’re gonna need a new costume, though.”

Shouto snorts out a laugh. “I know it didn’t fit, but you didn’t need to destroy the damn thing.”

Izuku lets out a full-on laugh, huffing air into the back of Shouto’s neck. “I’m sorry! I got lost in the moment!”

He sighs, and presses a smile into Shouto’s shoulder. “You look so beautiful. You did before, but you’re happier, now, and that looks so good on you.”

Shouto exhales and thinks about his body - his rounded hips, his large stomach, his thick thighs - and he smiles, because Izuku is right.

Shouto is fat, and happy, and he and Izuku fall asleep curled up in each other, each dreaming full and lustrous dreams.