MHA smut

Bad Taste In Good Men

"So, I met your son," Deku said as he poured her coffee and added the sugar-free syrup, the vanilla almond milk, and so forth. "He looks like you."

"Mm," Mitsuki said, her attention on the phone. Deku vaguely realized they had the same eye color, a sparking hot cinnamon. "He's home from uni until the sixth of January. Do feel free to ignore my little ingrate. He's a pain in my ass as much as he once was a pain in my vagina."

Deku tried not to let his face crumple at the comparison, but by the soft huff of humor from across the kitchen island, Mitsuki had caught him out.

"So he's like, living here during this time?" Deku knew it was a stupid question before he even finished. Way to not sound interested at all. "I mean, is there anything specific he enjoys eating?"

Mitsuki clicked her tongue with some vague sound of annoyance and shoved her phone down the front of her dress, right into the cup of her bra, the top sticking out as she used both hands to grab food and drink.

"Who knows? That kid claims to major in sport science and health but he eats like a trash compactor. You'll have to ask him. Just no red meat, alright? I don't care what he says, I'm not having anything bleeding out in my fridge."

Deku refrained from telling her if anything was actively bleeding in her fridge, it wasn't a fresh raw meat problem. He just smiled and nodded.

***

Deku didn't have time to stick around. He had several other clients in the city and a grueling schedule. Some clients had him on a Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule, with him arriving to prep lunch healthy lunchboxes for the coming two days, followed by cooking a full dinner the for family. Others had him on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, but wanted him in the morning to cook breakfast for their large family, then prep lunches, and leave dinner to their own devices. One specific client had Deku reserved every Saturday night due to their obsession with hosting work dinner parties while never lifting a finger in the actual preparation of them.

Some clients were full families, some were couples, some were single and looking to keep themselves on a strict meal regime. Deku single-handedly did the grocery shopping for each client, planned and edited weekly menus, and of course, cooked everything from scratch.

Bonus? Deku almost always got to eat his own food. Plus, he was able to film his daily culinary adventures to post across several short form social media platforms, which give him an extra edge of income that he squirreled away for the future.

People liked to watch him cook. They liked slow, sexy cheese pulls and bubbling casseroles all crispy at the edges, kimbap dipped in succulent, spicy red noodles, and fresh, bright fruit evenly cut like juicy jewels.

And Deku loved to cook. He loved to feed and be fed. He liked the compliments that flowed from the internet and the smiles on his clients faces. He loved all of it.

He was exhausted almost all the time, but he was happy. He was thriving.

He had absolutely no personal life to speak of between it all, but he was busy, okay.

So Deku didn't really have a ton of time to linger on the new Bakugou boy as he shopped the covered markets and lugged a foldable wagon down the sidewalk, bursting with fresh ingredients and mental menus ready to be made reality.

On Wednesday, Deku let himself into the high rise Bakugou apartment with the blustering cold clinging crisp and biting to his clothes.

Winter mornings might be Deku's least favorite thing about his job. The Bakugou's liked fresh seafood, and while Deku had no problem heading to the local fish market to purchase the best catches, the sky was still black when he arrived and the sky had barely edged into deep sea blue by the time Deku hauled his bursting, reusable grocery bags into the silent kitchen and set everything down.