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How Much I Love You

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summary: Mirio Togata has never had a problem showing his affection for the people he holds dear to him, especially not when he can't keep his hands off his lovely girlfriend at movie night.

warning/s: f!reader, soft-dom!mirio, fingering, cunnilignus, handjobs, pet names, penetration, bit of a size kink, choking (barely + gently), mdni, nsfw

w/c: 5k~

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The silence in the common room was a comfortable blanket, woven from the soft glow of late evening television and the shared, quiet breathing of two people completely at ease with one another.

You were curled into Mirio’s side on the plush sofa, your head resting on the broad expanse of his chest. The rhythmic, steady beat of his heart was a familiar and grounding sound beneath your ear. His arm was wrapped securely around your shoulders, a warm, heavy weight that felt less like a restraint and more like an anchor in a storm.

On the screen, some cheesy hero documentary played on, but neither of you were really watching.

Mirio’s fingers were tracing idle patterns on your upper arm, a slow, meandering dance that sent pleasant shivers skittering across your skin.

He was humming softly, a low, contented rumble that vibrated through his chest and into you. It was moments like this, the quiet domesticity that felt so rare and precious in the whirlwind of U.A. life, that you cherished most.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice a low, warm vibration against your cheek. He shifted slightly, and you tilted your head back to look up at him. In the dim light, his eyes were impossibly bright, his trademark smile soft and genuine. “You seem a million miles away. Everything okay?”

You offered a small smile in return. “Just thinking. It’s nice. Being here with you.”

His smile widened, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “It’s the best, isn’t it? I feel like I could just stay right here forever.” He leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. It was a simple, chaste gesture, but it was filled with so much affection it made your chest ache. “You know,” he continued, his voice dropping a little, taking on a slightly different timbre, “I was just thinking about how amazing you are.”

A faint blush crept up your neck. “Mirio…”

“No, I’m serious!” He insisted gently, his hand moving from your arm to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking the soft skin there. “You work so hard, and you’re so kind, and you’re always supporting me and the big guys. You’ve got this incredible strength inside you, and I see it every single day. It makes me feel… really lucky.”

Your heart was hammering against your ribs, a frantic, fluttering beat that had nothing to do with relaxation. The air in the room had shifted, charged with a new, palpable energy. Mirio’s gaze was intense, his usual cheerful sparkle now burning with something deeper, something that made your breath catch in your throat.

“I want to show you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. “How much I appreciate you. How much I admire you. Would you let me do that?”

You could only manage a small, breathless nod. Your voice seemed to have abandoned you.

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, his expression serious but still so fundamentally Mirio. “Good. But I want you to listen to me, okay? I’m going to take care of you tonight. All you have to do is trust me and let me lead. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

The pet name, spoken in that low, commanding yet gentle tone, sent a jolt straight through you. This was the other side of Mirio Togata, the side that only you ever got to see. Beneath the sunny, boisterous exterior was a man who was confident, attentive, and devastatingly in control. It was a side of him that made you feel completely and utterly safe, even as it thrilled you to your very core.

“Yes,” you finally managed to whisper, the word barely audible.

A brilliant, triumphant smile lit up his face. “That’s my girl.” He leaned in, and this time when he kissed you, it wasn’t on the forehead. His lips met yours, firm and sure. It wasn’t a rough kiss, but it was demanding, a clear statement of intent. He coaxed your mouth open, his tongue sweeping in to claim yours in a slow, deliberate exploration that left you dizzy and clinging to his shoulders. When he finally pulled back, you were both breathing heavily.

“Let’s go to my room,” he said, his voice husky. He stood up, taking your hand and pulling you effortlessly to your feet. His hand was large and warm, enveloping yours completely.

He led you down the quiet hallway to his dorm room, the silence punctuated only by the soft pad of your footsteps. Once inside, he closed the door with a soft click, the sound final and somehow incredibly intimate. His room was tidy, as expected, with hero posters on the walls and his training gear neatly stacked in a corner. But your focus was entirely on him.

He turned to face you, his hands coming to rest on your hips. “I love this outfit on you,” he said, his eyes roaming over you appreciatively. “You look so good. But I think I’d like it even better on the floor.”

There was no malice in his words, only a straightforward, honest desire that was impossible to misinterpret. He waited, his eyes searching yours, giving you the chance to object, to say no. You didn’t. You just stood there, your heart pounding, letting him look his fill.

“Arms up for me,” he instructed softly.

You obeyed without hesitation, raising your arms over your head. He hooked his fingers under the hem of your shirt and slowly, torturously, drew it upward. The fabric brushed against your skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. As the shirt cleared your head, his eyes never left yours, a dark, hungry look in their depths that made your knees feel weak.

He tossed the shirt aside, his gaze dropping to your chest, now clad in a simple lace bra. “So beautiful,” he breathed, his hands coming up to trace the straps where they rested on your shoulders. His touch was feather-light, almost reverent. “Every inch of you is just perfect.”

His praise was a potent drug, warming you from the inside out. He reached behind you, his fingers deftly unhooking your bra. It slid down your arms and joined your shirt on the floor. The cool air on your bare skin made you shiver, but it was the look in Mirio’s eyes that truly set you on fire. It was a look of pure, unadulterated worship.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his hands moving to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your already-pebbled nipples. The touch was electric, and you couldn't stop the soft gasp that escaped your lips. “So responsive. I love that. I love knowing I can make you feel good.”

He leaned down, his mouth replacing his thumb on one breast. His tongue was hot and wet as it circled your nipple before he drew it into his mouth, suckling gently. The sensation was exquisite, a direct line of pleasure that shot down to your core. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft, blond strands as you held him to you. He lavished attention on one breast, then the other, until you were arching against him, a soft, needy whine building in your throat.

“Mirio, please,” you gasped out, not even sure what you were begging for.

He lifted his head, a smug, satisfied smile playing on his lips. “Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you need.”

“I need… more.”

“Of course you do,” he said, his voice full of that same gentle confidence. “And I’m going to give it to you. I’m going to give you everything.” He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your pants, his knuckles brushing against your stomach. “But first, these need to go.”

He sank to his knees in front of you, his bright blue eyes looking up at you from this new, dizzying angle. He slowly drew your pants and underwear down your legs, his hands stroking your skin as he went. You stepped out of them, now completely bare before him. He didn’t move for a moment, just looked his fill, his gaze so intense it felt like a physical touch.

“Incredible,” he finally said, his voice thick with emotion. “Absolutely incredible.” He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your hip, then another to your stomach, then one just above your mound. Each kiss was a promise, a declaration of his devotion.

“On the bed,” he instructed, his voice soft but firm. “Lie down in the middle for me.”

You complied quickly, scrambling onto his bed and settling back against the pillows. He watched you move, a predator’s gleam in his eye, but it was tempered by an overwhelming sense of care. He followed you onto the bed, crawling over you until he was hovering above you, his arms caging you in. He was still fully dressed, the fabric of his shirt and jeans a rough, exciting contrast against your bare skin.

“You’re so good for me,” he praised, lowering his head to nuzzle your neck. “So obedient. It makes me want to reward you.” He nipped at the sensitive skin where your neck met your shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to make you gasp. “And I will. I promise. I’m going to make you feel so, so good.”

He began a slow, deliberate exploration of your body with his hands and mouth. He kissed his way down your chest, his tongue tracing the valley between your breasts. He paid homage to your stomach, his hands stroking your sides, his thumbs pressing into your hips.

His journey was a deliberate, worshipful pilgrimage. He kissed his way down your stomach, his lips soft and warm against your skin. His hands weren't idle; they roamed, mapping the curves of your waist, the dip of your hips, the soft expanse of your thighs. He was learning you all over again, committing every inch to memory with a reverence that made your chest ache with a profound, overwhelming affection.

“You know,” he murmured against your navel, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you, “sometimes I just look at you and I can’t believe how lucky I am. That you’re mine.” He lifted his head, his eyes locking with yours, and the sheer, unadulterated adoration in them was almost too much to bear. “Every part of you is just… wow. Just wow.”

He shifted lower, his broad shoulders settling between your thighs. He nudged them apart gently, a silent command that you obeyed instantly, your body pliant and willing under his touch. His gaze dropped to the very core of you, now exposed and vulnerable to his hungry stare. A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face.

“There she is,” he breathed, the words a puff of warm air against your most sensitive flesh. “Hello, beautiful.” He looked back up at you, his expression a mixture of pure joy and predatory focus. “I’ve been thinking about this all day. About how you taste. About how you feel when you fall apart on my tongue.”

Your breath hitched, a fresh wave of arousal flooding you at his blunt, honest words. He didn’t wait for a response. He lowered his head, and the first, flat stroke of his tongue against your folds was a revelation. It was slow, deliberate, a thorough exploration that had your back arching off the bed. He hummed in appreciation, the sound vibrating against your clit and drawing a sharp cry from your lips.

“Just like that,” he praised, his voice muffled against you. “You’re so sweet. So perfect.” He settled in, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you open for him, and began to work you with a focused, unwavering intensity. This wasn't a frantic rush toward the finish line; this was a masterclass in patience and control. He was a hero, and this was his mission: to dismantle you, piece by piece, with nothing but his mouth.

He circled your clit with the tip of his tongue, tracing patterns that were both maddeningly slow and incredibly precise. He alternated between broad, flat licks that covered your entire sex and pointed, focused flicks against the sensitive bundle of nerves. He was watching you, his bright blue eyes never leaving your face, cataloging your every reaction, learning what made you gasp, what made you whimper, what made you writhe.

“You’re doing so well,” he encouraged, pulling back for just a moment to catch his breath. His chin was glistening with your arousal. “Just let it happen. Let me take care of you. I want to see you come for me, sweetheart. I want to feel it.”

He dove back in, this time adding a new element. He slowly pushed one long, thick finger inside you, his mouth never ceasing its relentless assault on your clit. The dual sensation was exquisite. He curled his finger, stroking that sensitive spot deep inside you that made your vision white out at the edges.

“Mirio!” you cried out, your hands fisting in his sheets. Your hips began to move of their own accord, rocking against his face, chasing the pleasure that was building to an impossible crescendo.

“That’s it,” he growled, the vibration sending you even higher. “Ride my face. Take what you need. You look so incredible like this, all lost in it. So beautiful.”

He added a second finger, stretching you, filling you perfectly. He began to pump them in and out in a steady, driving rhythm, mimicking the act to come. His tongue worked your clit with renewed fervor, flicking and sucking until you were a quivering, sobbing mess beneath him. The coil in your stomach was wound so tightly it was painful, every nerve in your body screaming for release.

“Come on, baby,” he urged, his voice a low, commanding purr. “Let go for me. I know you’re close. I can feel you. Give it to me. Let me have it.”

His words were the final push you needed. The pleasure shattered through you with the force of a tidal wave, a blinding, all-consuming rush that left you gasping for air. Your body bowed, a strangled cry tearing from your throat as your orgasm ripped through you, wave after wave of intense, overwhelming sensation. Mirio stayed with you through it all, his mouth and fingers gentling, guiding you through the peaks and valleys until you were a boneless, panting wreck on his bed.

He finally pulled away, pressing soft, soothing kisses to your inner thighs as you trembled in the aftermath. He crawled back up your body, gathering you into his arms and holding you close. You could feel the hard, insistent press of his arousal against your hip, a testament to his own desire, but his focus was entirely on you.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his lips brushing against your hairline. He stroked your back, his touch a calming, grounding presence.

You could only nod, burrowing deeper into his embrace, your face pressed against his chest. You were still trying to catch your breath, your body humming with the residual pleasure.

“Good,” he said, a note of deep satisfaction in his voice. “You did so good. That was amazing.” He tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes were soft, but there was a banked fire there, a promise of more to come. “But we’re not done yet. Not by a long shot.”

He captured your lips in a deep, possessive kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, a heady, intimate flavor that made your head spin. He kissed you until you were breathless again, until the need for him was a desperate, aching thing inside you.

He finally pulled back, his breathing ragged. “I need to be inside you,” he said, his voice raw with honesty. “Right now.”

He sat up, his movements economical and sure. He grabbed the hem of his own shirt and pulled it over his head in one smooth motion, revealing the sculpted, powerful physique of a hero-in-training.

His skin was taut over lean muscle, his abs a testament to countless hours of training. Your eyes roamed over him, drinking in the sight.

He saw you looking and grinned, that same bright, unselfconscious smile that you loved so much. “Like what you see?” he asked, a playful challenge in his tone.

You nodded, your mouth suddenly dry.

“Good,” he said, his smile softening into something more tender. “Because it’s all for you.” He stood up and quickly shucked his jeans and boxers, kicking them aside.

His cock sprang free, hard and thick and already beading with precum at the tip. He was magnificent, a perfect specimen of masculine power, and the look in his eyes as he gazed down at you was one of pure, unadulterated love and lust.

He crawled back onto the bed, settling between your thighs once more. He took himself in hand, stroking slowly as he looked down at you. “You’re sure you’re ready for more?” he asked, his concern for you evident even in this moment of raw need.

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice hoarse. “Please, Mirio. I need you.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. He lined himself up with your entrance, the thick head of his cock nudging against your slick, sensitive folds. He paused, his eyes locking with yours. “I love you,” he said, his voice a solemn vow.

And then he pushed inside.

The stretch was exquisite, a slow, burning pleasure as he filled you inch by inch. He was watching your face, his expression a mixture of intense concentration and awe. He went slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size, to the overwhelming sensation of being so completely, perfectly full.

“You feel… incredible,” he gritted out, his jaw tight with restraint once he was fully seated inside you. “So tight. So perfect. Made just for me.”

He began to move, his hips rocking in a slow, deep rhythm that stole your breath. Each thrust was a deliberate, powerful stroke, hitting all the right places, stoking the embers of your desire back into a roaring inferno. He was a master of his body, his movements controlled and precise, a perfect blend of power and grace.

This was the Mirio who could phase through a villain’s attack and land a flawless, knockout blow. This was Lemillion, and he was using all that legendary control to drive you wild.

“You’re taking me so well,” he praised, his voice a low, guttural moan. “Look at you. So beautiful, spread out for me, taking my cock.” He leaned down, his forearms braced on either side of your head, his face inches from yours.

The new angle allowed him to go even deeper, and you cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders. “That’s it. Let me hear you. I want to know how good I’m making you feel.”

He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming faster, harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, a lewd, rhythmic counterpoint to your shared moans and gasps.

He lowered his head, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, making you arch off the bed and moan.

His big, beefy arms held your hips tight as he kept deep deliberate thrusts that drove far into your walls. "That's it pretty girl...you look soo beautiful like this my love."

You maoend and cried out his name, finding it increasingly difficult to stay composed- Miriooo fuck! I- I c-cant-"

"Yes, you can..c'mon, you're already doing so well...my perfect- god- perfect girl.." he hid his face in the crook of your neck, moaning and panting whilst biting the shell of your ear.

"Jesus Mirio-i-im so close!" Yu moaned out as his pace quickened, his cock driving s far up inside you, it felt like he was rearranging your insides.

One of his arms that was previously on your hip listened to wrap gently around your neck-- not in a bruising or rough manner, just holding. Almost, in a comforting manner that completely conrdaicted his rough thrusts.

"Cmon sunshine..you can do it, come on my cock...I feel how close you are" he maned again in your ear as his tip bullied your cervix, the pace not stopping for a second-- in fact it felt as if he was speeding up just to get you both closer.

As you both came, you felt his thick hot load fill up your sinuses as you clenched down from his come-down, both of you releasing in tandem.

As you both cam down from your high, he pulled back to look you in the eye, smiling while his hair tickled your face. "so good, love you so much beautiful."

You smiled softly, heat crawling up your neck as you met his loving gaze. "I love you to Mirio, so much.."

As Mirio cleaned you both up and started a bath, you couldn't help but think how lucky you were...for him, for his love, and for everything he's given you.

As Mirio ran the bath, he had the same thoughts, how grateful he was fr your kindness, your beauty, and everything about you..

Nothing could ever change the fact Mirio loved you. Nothing at all.

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A/N: this actually took so long!! I felt like I couldn't get any of these words right and my writing wasn't good enough, also, its like a fucking CVS recipt long!

comments and likes are always appreciated!

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