Itsuka Kendou | Deku | My Hero Academia

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the U.A. training grounds, painting the worn concrete and scorched earth in hues of orange and gold. For Izuku Midoriya, known to the world as Deku, the exhaustion was a familiar, almost comforting weight. Today’s training had been particularly grueling, pushing One For All to its limits, yet beneath the physical fatigue, a different kind of energy pulsed. It was the lingering warmth of a shared glance, the echo of a friendly jab, the intoxicating scent of orange blossoms that clung to a certain someone.

He leaned against a crumbling obstacle, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, his chest heaving. His vibrant green eyes, usually alight with determination or concern, were currently soft, unfocused as he replayed the day’s interactions. Specifically, his thoughts kept drifting to Itsuka Kendou. The president of Class 1-B, with her infectious laugh and that powerful, yet somehow gentle, “Battle Fist” Quirk, had a way of making his heart do a peculiar little flip-flop. Today, during a joint training session that had spiraled into friendly sparring, their paths had crossed more than once.

He remembered the way she’d maneuvered around his punches, her own massive hands rippling with power, a determined glint in her bright, expressive eyes. There had been a moment, a fleeting, heart-stopping moment, when she’d caught his arm, not to restrain him, but to steady him after a particularly wild swing. Her touch, though brief, had sent a jolt through him, a sensation far more potent than any electrical quirk. He’d mumbled an apology, his face flushing a deep crimson, and she’d just smiled, that confident, dazzling smile that always seemed to reach her sparkling blue eyes. “No worries, Deku,” she’d said, her voice a warm melody. “You were really giving it your all. Impressive.”

That smile. It was etched into his mind, a beacon of encouragement and something more, something that made his insides twist with a confusing mix of excitement and shyness. He’d always admired her strength, her leadership, her unwavering optimism, but lately, that admiration had begun to bloom into something far more intimate. He found himself watching her during class presentations, noticing the way her hair, a cascade of warm auburn, framed her face, the way her passion ignited when she spoke about hero work. He noticed the unique way her eyes, a stunning, captivating blue, seemed to hold a universe of emotion.

As the last rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in a fiery farewell, a familiar voice cut through his reverie. “Still here, Deku? I thought you’d be halfway back to your dorm by now, probably replaying your fight with Bakugo in your head.”

Izuku’s head snapped up. Standing a few yards away, silhouetted against the twilight, was Itsuka Kendou. She’d clearly come to retrieve her own gear, her training uniform slightly damp with sweat, clinging to her curves in a way that made Izuku’s breath hitch. The scent of her, a subtle, sweet perfume mingling with the clean scent of exertion, drifted to him, intoxicating him.

“K-Kendou-san,” he stammered, his voice a little rough. He pushed himself away from the obstacle, trying to appear less winded than he felt. “Yeah, just… catching my breath.”

She walked closer, her movements fluid and confident. The dying light caught the subtle curves of her body, the toned muscles in her arms and legs, the gentle swell of her chest. “You always push yourself so hard,” she said, a fond, teasing note in her voice. She stopped a few feet away, her blue eyes examining him with that same warmth he’d felt earlier. “It’s admirable, but you need to remember to take care of yourself too. Even heroes have their limits, right?”

He nodded, unable to meet her gaze for too long, his cheeks warming. “I know. It’s just… I want to get stronger. For everyone.”

She chuckled, a soft, melodious sound that sent a shiver down his spine. “And you will. I have no doubt about that. But maybe you could let someone else worry about you sometimes, too.” Her gaze lingered on his, a playful challenge in her expression. “Or,” she continued, her voice dropping slightly, becoming more intimate, “maybe you could let *me* worry about you.”

Izuku’s heart leaped into his throat. He finally managed to look her in the eye, and the intensity in her blue gaze made his knees feel weak. There was a shared understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken attraction that had been simmering between them for weeks, perhaps even months. The training grounds, once a place of rigorous competition, now felt charged with a different kind of energy, a charged anticipation.

“W-what do you mean?” he managed, his voice barely a whisper.

She took another step closer, closing the distance between them. The air crackled. “I mean,” she said, her voice husky, “that you’re too good to be left to sweat it out alone all the time. Sometimes, a hero needs a partner. Or,” she paused, her gaze dropping to his lips, then flicking back up, “something more.”

The implication hung heavy in the air, thick and potent. Izuku’s mind raced, his usual analytical abilities momentarily overwhelmed by the raw, sensual awareness of her proximity. He could feel the heat radiating from her, the subtle tremor in her hands as she gestured slightly, the soft rise and fall of her chest. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to confirm that this was real, that she was truly looking at him with such intense, almost hungry, desire.

Hesitantly, as if afraid to break a spell, he raised a trembling hand. His fingers brushed against her forearm, and her skin, warm and smooth, sent a jolt of electricity through him, far more powerful than any quirk he’d ever encountered. She didn’t flinch; instead, she leaned into his touch, her breath catching in her throat. Her blue eyes, pools of deep, captivating sapphire, seemed to swallow him whole.

“Kendou-san…” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I… I’ve been wanting to…”

“I know,” she murmured, her hand coming up to cup his cheek, her thumb tracing the curve of his jawline. “I’ve felt it too. This… pull. This heat.” Her gaze was unwavering, her desire mirroring his own. “And tonight,” she continued, her voice laced with a thrilling promise, “I don’t want to let it go to waste.”

She leaned in, her lips brushing against his. It was a tentative, searching kiss, a question and an answer all at once. Izuku’s world narrowed to this single point of contact, the soft press of her lips against his, the sweet, intoxicating taste of her. He deepened the kiss, his shyness melting away under the onslaught of her passion. His arms went around her waist, pulling her flush against him, feeling the firm, yielding curves of her body. Her own hands found their way to his hair, her fingers tangling in his soft green locks as the kiss grew more urgent, more demanding.

The training grounds, abandoned and silent, became their secret sanctuary. Under the cloak of twilight, with only the distant glow of the city lights as their witness, their passion ignited. She guided him, her experience and confidence a comforting anchor, as they navigated the uncharted territory of their mutual desire. Her ‘Battle Fist’ Quirk, so powerful in battle, was now channeled into a different kind of strength, a tender, yet firm, exploration of his body.

When they finally broke apart, breathless and disheveled, her eyes, still a mesmerizing blue, were alight with a raw, uninhibited hunger. “My place is closer,” she whispered, her voice a husky invitation. “Let’s not waste any more time.”

The walk to her dorm was a blur of stolen glances and trembling hands. Inside, the atmosphere shifted from the charged tension of the training grounds to a more intimate, cocoon-like embrace. The soft glow of a bedside lamp cast a warm, inviting light, illuminating the subtle curves of her room and the even more captivating curves of Itsuka Kendou herself. She turned to him, her expression a mixture of playful anticipation and genuine affection. “Are you ready, Deku?” she asked, her blue eyes sparkling.

He could only nod, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He watched as she shed her training uniform, each movement a slow, deliberate unveiling of her beauty. Her body was a testament to her strength and grace, lean and toned, with a softness that invited touch. Izuku’s gaze lingered on her, his own resolve solidifying. He reached out, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of her collarbone, then moving lower, caressing the soft skin of her stomach. She shivered under his touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, his voice filled with genuine awe. He felt a profound sense of gratitude, of wonder, that this woman, this incredible hero, was here, with him, wanting him.

Her response was to pull him closer, her lips finding his once more. This kiss was deeper, more possessive, a declaration of their shared desire. Her hands began to explore him, her touch both firm and tender, awakening every nerve ending. She unbuttoned his uniform with a practiced ease, her fingers brushing against his skin, sending waves of heat through him. He felt the cool air against his chest as his uniform fell away, revealing his own trembling form. Her eyes widened slightly as she took him in, a flicker of admiration, perhaps even surprise, in their depths.

“You’re stronger than you look, Deku,” she murmured, her hand gently tracing the muscles of his chest. Then, her touch grew bolder, descending lower, her fingers teasing the sensitive skin of his abdomen. Izuku gasped, arching into her touch. He had never experienced anything like it, the sheer power of her touch, the way she seemed to instinctively know where to touch, how to touch, to elicit the most exquisite sensations.

He returned her ministrations, his own exploration tentative at first, then growing in confidence. He marveled at the softness of her skin, the exquisite shape of her body. His hands traced the curve of her waist, the gentle swell of her hips, the delicate valley between her breasts. She moaned, her fingers tightening in his hair as he continued his exploration, his touch growing bolder, more intimate. He found himself captivated by the raw honesty in her reactions, the way her body responded to his touch, the soft gasps and moans that filled the room.

The night unfolded like a dream, a symphony of whispered words, soft moans, and the exquisite friction of skin against skin. Itsuka’s ‘Battle Fist’ Quirk, unleashed in this private arena, was a force of nature. Her massive hands, usually so formidable, now moved with an astonishing tenderness, her touch both firm and unbelievably sensitive. She caressed him, stroked him, teased him with an expertise that left him breathless and wanting more. He found himself lost in the sheer pleasure of her touch, her skill, her unwavering focus on his pleasure.

When it was his turn, Izuku found a similar strength within himself, a raw, uninhibited passion fueled by his deep affection for her. He explored her body with a reverence born of his admiration, his touch gentle yet firm, his lips tracing the curves and hollows of her form. He discovered the delicate skin behind her knees, the sensitive shell of her ears, the pulse point at her throat that quickened under his kiss. He felt a profound connection, a sense of intimacy that transcended the physical act.

As they moved together, their bodies intertwined, their breaths syncing, a powerful wave of shared pleasure washed over them. He watched the blue of her eyes darken with passion, saw the sheer intensity of her emotions reflected in her every gasp and moan. He felt her arch into him, her nails digging lightly into his back, a testament to the powerful sensations she was experiencing. He whispered her name, her body responding to his touch, to his presence, with a primal intensity that left him breathless.

Later, tangled in the sheets, their bodies slick with sweat and satiated desire, a profound sense of peace settled over them. Izuku held Itsuka close, her head resting on his chest, her soft breaths a soothing rhythm against his skin. He gently stroked her auburn hair, his heart full. The embers of their passion still glowed, a warm, comforting heat that promised more to come. He looked down at her, at the serene beauty of her face, the closed blue eyes now softened by sleep. He knew, with a certainty that echoed deeper than any doubt, that this was just the beginning. The battle-hardened hero, the determined student, had found something truly extraordinary in the quiet intimacy of this shared night, a victory far sweeter than any they could achieve on the training grounds. The strength of her 'Battle Fist' was matched only by the strength of the bond they had forged, a bond built on passion, respect, and a love that was only just beginning to blossom.