He took off the towel first, letting it drop to the warm stone tiles with a soft thud. Then, without hesitation or ceremony, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs and slid them down his thighs, stepping out of them and kicking the damp fabric aside to join the towel.
Since Rumi stood there completely bare, unashamed and unapologetic, he refused to leave her feeling exposed alone. Fair was fair.
Rumi watched the entire motion. Her crimson eyes dropped immediately to his crotch the second the fabric cleared his hips.
They widened noticeably—pupils flaring for a split second as she took in the thick, heavy length of him hanging between his powerful thighs, already half-hard from the sight of her alone.
The flush that had started on her cheeks deepened to a rich rose, creeping down the sides of her neck and across the tops of her full breasts.
She bit the inside of her lower lip, then quickly flicked her gaze back up to his face, trying (and failing) to play it cool.
"...Bold move, Zuzu," she murmured, voice a little huskier than before.
Izuku didn't reply—just gave her a small, knowing half-smile as he stepped forward.
Rumi moved first, easing one long leg into the steaming water, then the other. She sank down slowly until the surface lapped at her collarbones, then pushed off gently and floated effortlessly toward the deeper end.
"Fuck… I live for this," she sighed, the words almost a purr.
Izuku followed a moment later. He didn't rush. He stepped in at the shallow entrance, letting the heat climb his calves, then his thighs, then higher until it enveloped his waist.
The temperature was intense—borderline scalding at first—but his body adjusted almost instantly, the tension in his shoulders melting away like ice under flame. He didn't sink all the way down yet; instead he sat on the smooth stone ledge just inside the pool, knees bent, forearms resting on his thighs, content to let the water lap at his hips while he adjusted to the sensation.
'Man, this feels good,' he thought, eyelids lowering halfway as the warmth worked its way into every overworked fiber of muscle.
Rumi glanced over her shoulder, ears perking at the lack of movement behind her.
"Come on," she called, voice carrying a playful edge. "Let's go further—it's hotter there." She pushed off again, gliding gracefully through the water with slow, powerful kicks of her long legs.
The steam grew thicker toward the center of the pool, turning the air hazy and dreamlike, reducing visibility to soft silhouettes and glinting ripples.
Yet even through the mist, Izuku could still see her clearly: the elegant line of her spine as she moved, the subtle flex of her back muscles, the way her rounded ass broke the surface for a heartbeat before disappearing again beneath the water.
He slid off the ledge and waded after her, the heat climbing higher with every step until it swallowed him to the chest. When he reached the deeper center, he let himself sink until only his head and shoulders remained above the surface, arms spreading out to float loosely at his sides.
Rumi turned to face him, floating on her back now, breasts just barely breaking the waterline, nipples dark and peaked from the contrast of hot water and cooler air. She studied him through half-lidded eyes, steam curling between them like smoke.
"Day three…" she said softly, her usual cocky tone replaced with something quieter, more intimate. A small smile played at the corners of her lips. "How is it so far?"
Izuku met her gaze without looking away.
"Fun," he answered honestly. "I'm learning a lot. Not just fighting—about… this." He gestured vaguely between them, then at the steaming pool around them. "About relaxing. About you. So yeah… I'd say I got the best out of all the options I had."
Her smile grew, soft and real, the blush returning in a faint wash across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.
"Great," she murmured. Then, quieter still: "I've never taken anyone in before. Not like this. But I'd say… for my first time…" She drifted a little closer, until their knees brushed beneath the water. "You're already the best of any I'll ever take in."
Izuku's expression softened, the guarded edges he usually carried easing away completely in the heat and the haze.
"That's… nice to hear," he said, voice low. A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips—rare, unguarded, and just for her.
For several long minutes after that, neither of them spoke.
They simply floated together in the center of the spring, bodies close enough to feel each other's warmth cutting through the water, steam rising around them like a private veil. The world outside—the city, the hero work, the endless pressure—felt miles away.
Minutes later, they stepped out of the hot springs, feeling the lingering warmth of the water on their skin. Izuku quickly took a cold shower to cool down, the sharp water making him shiver slightly before he got dressed, starting with clean, dry underwear.
The simple act of putting on fresh clothes felt surprisingly satisfying after the relaxing soak.
By the time they returned home, the late afternoon sun was spilling through the windows. They had a quick meal—something light, just to keep their energy up—before getting ready for a night of crime fighting.
....
On the sixth day, Izuku woke up on the couch, his body stiff but strangely comfortable beneath the weight draped across his chest. His eyelids fluttered open to pale morning light spilling through the half-drawn blinds. Rumi had fallen asleep sprawled over him like a living blanket—her head tucked under his chin, one powerful arm slung across his ribs, the other curled loosely against his side. A thin silver strand of drool had escaped the corner of her slightly parted lips and soaked a small, dark patch into the front of his plain gray T-shirt.
'Damn,' he muttered to himself under his breath, gently lifting his head just enough to glance down at her sleeping face. 'Guess watching Madame Web was a bad idea… didn't even make it a minute before I passed out. And she just… followed right after.'
Rumi stirred suddenly—ears twitching once, twice—then sprang awake with the explosive alertness only a pro hero could manage. She pushed herself upright in an instant, straddling his lap, knees bracketing his hips as she blinked rapidly and scanned the living room like she expected an ambush.
Her wide crimson eyes froze when they landed on herself.
Her cropped sleep tank had ridden up—or maybe slipped off entirely sometime in the night—leaving her chest completely bare.
The soft, full curves of her breasts rose and fell with her quickening breaths; her nipples, a dusky rose, tightened instantly in the cool morning air and caught the pale golden sunlight streaming across them, turning the skin there almost luminous.
Her gaze dropped lower—and found Izuku shirtless too, his scarred, densely muscled torso on full display beneath her. The realization hit like a kick. Her cheeks flamed a vivid crimson that spread down her neck and across her collarbones in seconds.
She yelped—a short, startled sound—and scrambled to cover herself with both arms crossed tight over her chest, the motion only pressing her breasts together in a way that made Izuku's brain short-circuit for half a heartbeat before he politely looked at the ceiling.
"Don't write about this in your report!" she hissed, voice pitched high with mortification as she slid off his lap in a frantic blur of white hair and long limbs.
Her bare feet slapped against the hardwood as she darted toward her bedroom, tail flicking wildly behind her.
Izuku leaned back against the couch cushions, one arm draped over the backrest, and let a slow, crooked smirk tug at his lips.
"Well… I'll try," he teased lightly, voice still rough from sleep, watching her storm off with a perfect view of the powerful flex of her back and the bounce of her barely-covered ass beneath tiny sleep shorts.
He shook his head once, amused and a little dazed, then pushed himself to his feet with a low groan. The blanket she'd kicked off in her escape pooled at his ankles; he stepped over it carefully.
'That's… a hell of a way to wake up,' he thought, rubbing the back of his neck where her hair had tickled him all night. His skin still felt warm where her body had pressed against his.
He paused in the middle of the living room, rolling his shoulders, mentally checking the day's agenda like ticking off boxes on a mental clipboard.
'Stain and the Nomu are attacking Hosu City today… yeah, that's the big one. I gotta be ready.'
With a final glance toward Rumi's closed bedroom door—where he could hear muffled cursing and the sound of drawers being yanked open—Izuku squared his shoulders.
"Alright," he said quietly to the empty room. "Let's get ready."
A few minutes later, Izuku sat at the small kitchen table, elbows resting on the scarred wood surface, a steaming bowl of plain oatmeal in front of him. He'd added a generous spoonful of peanut butter and a drizzle of honey, the rich scent mingling with the faint coffee grounds lingering from yesterday. Early morning sunlight filtered through the single window above the sink, casting warm, honey-colored stripes across the worn wooden floorboards and glinting off the spoon in his hand. He blew gently across the surface before taking a careful bite, savoring the simple heat and quiet.
Rumi stepped out of her room exactly seven minutes later.
She'd thrown on an oversized black tank top that slipped off one shoulder and loose gray sweat shorts that rode high on her powerful thighs.
Her white hair was pulled into a messy, high ponytail, a few rebellious strands already escaping to frame her face.
She stretched both arms overhead as she walked, arching her back in a slow, feline motion that made the hem of her tank ride up just enough to flash a strip of toned midriff.
The moment her eyes landed on Izuku, she caught the faint blush still lingering high on his cheekbones—the one he hadn't quite managed to shake off yet.
She raised one perfectly arched brow, a small, dangerous smirk curling her lips as she sauntered toward the table and dropped into the chair directly across from him.
"You made any for me?" she asked, tilting her head, curiosity and mischief sparkling in her crimson gaze.
"Of course," Izuku replied without missing a beat. He pointed with his spoon toward the stove. "Check the pot. Still hot."
"You could have dished some out for me," she said, leaning forward slightly so her forearms rested on the table, cleavage pressing softly against the edge of her tank. "Then again… I know you're just avoiding the dishes."
"That is correct!" Izuku said, raising his free hand in mock triumph before scooping another bite. His green eyes danced with amusement.
Rumi narrowed her eyes teasingly. "You do know we have a dishwasher, right?"
Izuku swallowed, then met her gaze dead-on.
"Yeah…" he drawled, grin widening slowly. "I'm looking at her."
Rumi's expression flattened instantly. She stared at him for a long beat, unimpressed.
"I could report you for that, you know," she said, voice dangerously sweet.
"I'm kidding," Izuku said quickly, though his shoulders still shook with barely-suppressed laughter. He held up both hands in surrender, spoon dangling from his fingers.
"Also…" Rumi added abruptly, pointing one accusatory finger directly at his face, "forget what you saw!"
Izuku blinked once, feigning innocence.
"What did I see?" he asked, voice dripping with exaggerated curiosity as he leaned back in his chair.
"You know very well," she muttered, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward despite herself.
She stood, grabbed the pot from the stove with one hand, and plopped back down across from him.
Without ceremony she scooped a heaping portion straight from the pot into her mouth, chewing with exaggerated satisfaction as steam curled up around her face.
Izuku watched her for a moment—hair messy, cheeks still faintly pink, eating like she hadn't just bolted half-naked from the living room—and felt something warm and unfamiliar settle behind his ribs.
He couldn't help but smile.
' I live for breasts' he thought.
TO BE CONTINUED