ask and you shall receive

𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐞𝐭: 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑃ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑜𝑝ℎ𝑦 𝐷𝑒𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡.

cws // tododeku, ivy league AU, mild age-gap, professor!midoriya, ta!todoroki, coercion, dubious/delayed consent, corruption kink, & lost virginity. https://twitter.com/kaacchaann/status/1381426323936137217

“Aesthetics is not merely the concern of if something is beautiful, but rather what it means when we find a thing to /be/ beautiful.”

The words sound like poetry, floating across the quiet lecture hall, and wrapping around Shoto Todoroki’s mind, ensnaring him.

Dr. Midoriya never ceased to interest him.

Especially not now, as he paces across the front of his class, a hardcover copy of Kant in-hand. ‘Roki hasn’t yet grown accustomed to him. They’re halfway through their first semester working together as mentor and pupil, and still

his curiosity is there, just as fresh as it had been when they first shook hands.

He’ll never forget that first meeting—nor how large the professor’s hands felt.

Dr. Midoriya is just the right sort of large, the kind you most find in academia—tall, with broad shoulders and bad

posture from years spent hunched over old, dusty books.

He’s one of the most respected scholars in the philosophy department, so it’s only natural that ‘Roki took his TA position the moment it opened up.

Hopefully, he would be able impress him soon; and get to formally request him as his thesis advisor within the year.

“When Kant refers to the aesthetic experience as a sort of...judgment, what do we think he means?”

The professor paces across the front row, finally looking up from his text.

His hair falls in his eyes—he’s overdue for a trim, he keeps telling everybody that

mentions it to him—deep emerald curls that flop over the frame of rounded, tortoise-shell glasses.

Behind them are the deepest of eyes that glow a gorgeous verdant, mesmerizing half the class.

He stops mid-pace, and his shiny brown loafers click against the tile. “No one?”

The class is still quiet—those who hadn’t planned on listening had already checked out, and those that were listening either didn’t understand, or where too busy ogling at him.

Dr. Midoriya reaches up to tug his glasses off, causing a subtle shift of muscles under his

crisp dress shirt. “Fine. Todoroki, would you help them out?”

In the third row, ‘Roki perks up. Those green eyes feel heated when they land on him—a swirl of emotions Todoroki feels privileged to have come to recognize as they flicker in and out.

“It has to do with pleasure.”

“Yes, exactly. Kant believes it does. Beauty, he says, is innate. Fixed within an object’s very nature.” He clasps the book behind himself, a stocky thumb keeping his place, and continues to pace. “We notice beauty, not by perception, but rather by something more primal

—something instinctive and quick.”

He glances up again, the soft click of his shoes echoing across the chamber.

“Anyone?”

When there are again no takers, Professor Midoriya points the spine of the book at Todoroki.

‘Roki says, “We can determine beauty by whether or not

something gives us pleasure. It’s a split judgment—at least, Kant thinks so.”

“I like to think Kant was only right about a third of the time he spoke—anyways we’re approaching the end of the hour. Get your paper topics to Mr. Todoroki by the end of the week—I will not accept any

papers he did not approve beforehand. You all enjoy your evenings, and be good.”

Todoroki remains seated as the rest of the lecture hall falls into that comfortable noise of shuffling shoes and desks being cleared off.

He watches Professor Midoriya’s eyes land on him,

flicking up and down his seated frame, before he begins packing up his own bag.



Todoroki finds himself in Professor Midoriya’s office a lot in the following days. Twice to grade papers, twice to go over lesson plans, once to adjust the syllabus,

and three times to borrow references from the big bookshelf in the corner of the professor’s office.

Moral philosophy is Midoriya’s concentration; all of the books scattered about the shelves with his name on the spines proves it.

“What made you pick ethics?” ‘Roki asks.

Behind him, at his desk, Professor Midoriya looks up. “Hm?”

“Ethics. Moral philosophy. Why did you pick it to study—to teach?”

He’s quiet for a moment—a pause that lasts far longer than appropriate in casual conversation—but ‘Roki isn’t perturbed. The professor was like him,

in that regard, so he keeps tugging reference books off of the shelves. The footstool is too far away, so he rolls onto his tiptoes to retrieve another.

There’s a hiss of sound from the professor, then, “It’s...universal, I suppose.”

“How so?”

“...Everyone finds themselves

in a moral predicament every now and again.” He says, sounding huffy.

Todoroki turns to face him. He loves conversations like this, getting to pick at a brilliant mind, so he hides his smile and asks “Do we?”

“What, you’ve never found yourself facing what’s right and

wanting nothing more than to do the opposite?” He asks, with a raised brow.

Todoroki thinks, genuinely. He doesn’t find himself in predicaments of any kind often, honestly. “I can’t say that I have.”

Professor Midoriya leans back in his chair, and it creaks under his weight.

“Is that so?” He asks, and his tone is curious.

Todoroki recognizes the flicker of interest there—and he’s a little confused by it, honestly. He’s hardly an interesting person.

“I suppose my childhood was rather...unconventional. Mistakes are uncommon in my household. They are

uncommon...to me. It difficult for me to imagine making choices that aren’t inherently selfish.”

Without missing a beat, the professor asks, “Are you a selfish person then, Todoroki?”

“More than most, I’d say.”

“And there’s no,” He waves a casual hand, but his eyes are bright,

deeply interested. ‘Roki recognizes it. “Moral conflict about it? You don’t regard your own selfishness?”

“I notice it, if that’s what you mean. But I also notice other people’s selfishness—implicitly.”

The professor leans forward. “How so?”

“People’s motivations are pretty

transparent when you’re looking for them.” He shrugs.

Professor Midoriya smiles—the intrigue in his eyes shifting to something else. “You may have been better off in the behavioral sciences, Todoroki. If you psychoanalyze everyone naturally, you might as well get paid for it.”

Todoroki snorts at that, and turns to replace one of the books he pulled out. “I suppose. I’ll bring these back later this evening, is that alright?”

The professor waves a hand. “Go on. You painfully interesting thing. Be good.”

"I hear you've got a hot TA." Shinsou Hitoshi, philosophy department chair, teases. Sleepy bastard never hesitated to tease his colleagues, especially not Midoriya.

Midoriya groans, clutching at his coffee cup tighter. In his other hand, his cigarette flickers."Don't remind me."

Beside him, Dr. Shinsou blows out a steady stream of smoke, a thick white line that dissipates quickly in the cold, late night air. Winter is upon the campus, coating everything in a dusting of powder and keeping folks indoors.

Well, everyone without nicotine issues.

"So, he /is/ hot." Shinsou grins. "I mean, you aren't denying it."

"No, Shinsou. I'm not denying it."

"You don't sound nearly excited enough." Shinsou chuckles.

"And for good reason—you should know why. You know exactly how often people start relationships with students that

end in hellfire and resignations."

"He doesn't seem like the type, from what I've seen." Shinsou shrugs.

Midoriya turns to stare at him, and a spike of something hot and possessive shoots right down the center of his chest. "And what exactly have you seen?"

Another shrug. "Relax, /I'm/ not trying to fuck the kid, you are."

"Tosh. Please."

Shinsou sighs, flicking his cigarette butt down onto the sidewalk, before stepping on it. "He's a good kid. Good student; he took three of my classes in undergrad. Didn't even have to apply for

the graduate program—we offered him a spot before he even conferred."

"I'm pretty sure he wants to request me as his thesis advisor." Midoriya sighs, and Shinsou laughs at him.

"C'mon, moral philosopher. You should have this in the bag—or is right and wrong not that clear?"

Midoriya can't help but grin. "A political philosopher and an ethics professor walk into a bar..."

"...and only one of them can fuck their mentee without compromising decades of their own research." Shinsou pats his shoulder. "Oh, would you look at that. Speak of the handsome

devil."

Midoriya glances up at where Shinsou is staring—across the glass atrium of the philosophy department's entrance, Todoroki and his loud blond friend are finally leaving the reference library.

Within a few seconds, they stumble out into the cold, and Dr. Midoriya is put

face to face with his own personalized existential stressor.

"Professor Midoriya." Todoroki beams, and his smile is innocent in a way that makes the professor want to scream. "You're still here."

"I am," He says, "Did you find the information you needed in those books?"

"I did, thank you!" He smiles wider. "I have much better luck researching from your bookshelf than I do in the entire reference library."

"Well, you've got a key. Feel free to use it whenever you like."

Beside him, Shinsou chokes on a snort.

"Professor," Todoroki's brows

pull together, and he looks down at his hands, "I actually had something I wanted to ask you—"

"—it's late," The pretty blond friend interrupts, "Professor M. is probably on his way home, right sir?"

"Not yet," Midoriya says, taking another draw from his cigarette, before

putting it out. "What is it?"

"Logic is my discipline, but I'm still thinking about something you said in that aesthetics lecture."

"Hm? And what's that?"

"Why use pleasure to measure beauty?"

Midoriya looks at him for a moment, but he can't help himself. "Because, Todoroki,

beautiful things make us happy. Wouldn't you say so?"

There's another beat of silence, but Todoroki sighs. "Well, I suppose. I'm unfamiliar with pleasure. Perhaps I don't find many things beautiful, then."

"OKAY—" His friend croaks, and quickly turns Todoroki around, "Goodnight

see you in lecture, Dr. Shinsou! Goodnight, Dr. Midoriya!"

"Goodnight, Kaminari," Dr. Shinsou grins, barely stifling his laugh. "Goodnight, Todoroki."

Kaminari, as Midoriya learns Loud Blond from introductory ontology is named, all but drags Todoroki up the snow-covered path

towards the upperclassmen's housing.

"What the hell just happened?" Midoriya asks, still staring, though the pair are long gone.

Shinsou offers another clap on his shoulder. "I think your hot TA just made it a hell of a lot easier for you to do the right thing."

Over the next week, Todoroki sits in on three more aesthetics lectures. They continue to dive into Kant—but something's changed.

Something is different—not quite right, 'Roki thinks. It almost seems like the professor has shifted, acting a bit more reserved with him, and he

isn't sure why.

He doesn't notice it until it becomes obvious that Dr. Midoriya is making conscious efforts to prevent them being alone together.

Gone were the moments after the students left the lecture hall and the two of them could spend the half-hour between meetings

discussing Todoroki's thesis. And now, everytime he went to borrow books from the professor's office, he either isn't there, or he's suddenly on his way out.

'Roki doesn't get it, at all. Perhaps it was something he'd said—Denki reminds him constantly that his filter is near non

existent.

Things come to a head nearly a full week later.

Finals are quickly approaching, and 'Roki has to actually /sit down/ with the professor to go over the format of the exams he's meant to be creating—except, the man seemed to weasel out of every appointment 'Roki makes.

Todoroki shows up after Dr. Midoriya's last evening class, determined to resolve things. He catches him in the thick of writing something at his desk, when he couldn't possibly be about to leave.

"Can I ask you something, professor?" He's asked, upon walking in. He didn't even

greet him, not when he was certain the response would be 'I was just leaving,' or 'I'm knee deep in this,'. He just drops his bag to the floor beside the chair across Dr. M's desk, and settles in it.

"Todoroki." The professor says, tightly. He looks upset—not angry, just

disturbed. "Yes, of course you can."

"Was it something I said?" He asks, tilting his head. "I'm just curious."

The professor looks up, his wide emerald eyes narrowing—except it's not confusion, it's disbelief. "Sorry, what?"

"Normally, I'm good at figuring out people's

intentions. I've told you as much—but with you, I'm at a loss." He sighs, pulling a pile of graded papers from his bag. "I'm through with 412-A by the way. I have time this weekend, if you'd like me to grade the other sections."

Midoriya stares at him, eyes narrowing even more.

He rises to his feet, places both palms on his desk and leans on them, glaring at his assistant.

"Todoroki."

"Yes, professor?"

"What do you recall of our last conversation?"

"...Outside of the library?"

"Yes, outside of the library." He says, looking the kid up and down.

It makes Todoroki shiver, and he really doesn't understand what he's done to be regarded so harshly.

"Um. I asked you why Kant thinks pleasure reveals beauty."

"You did," He replies, shifting impatiently. "And do you remember our last conversation in this office?"

Todoroki shifts, suddenly feeling hot in the face from Dr. Midoriya's tone. "Yes? I-I asked you why you chose to study ethics?"

"You did." He repeats. "And you said that you were good at seeing through people. That you notice their motivations quickly. You recognize selfishness,

because you, yourself, are selfish. Do you remember that?"

"Yes?"

Midoriya blinks a few times. "It wasn't anything you said. I suppose I found myself acting...selfishly, Todoroki. This is just me rectifying that mistake."

Todoroki's brows knot up, and he quickly folds his

arms across his chest, defensively. "I don't understand, how is talking to me being selfish—"

"—Because I don't want to just /talk/ to you, Todoroki." He finally snaps.

...And.

...He doesn't get it.

Poor kid—he's woefully dense, staring up at the professor with big,

confused, mismatched eyes.

Professor Midoriya sits, his mouth slightly open at how long it's taking Todoroki to put things together. After a near minute of silence, it becomes clear he just doesn't understand.

"Todoroki," Midoriya says, hoarsely. "Come here."

"Sir?" He asks,

but still stand and walks around the big, wooden desk, so settle against it, beside the professor's chair.

"Have a seat." Midoriya whispers, watching his TA settle on the edge of his desk. "I am having difficulties...keeping an appropriate distance between what I am and am not

allowed to think about you."

Again, Todoroki frowns down at him. "Professor, I feel like you're padding this—please, just say what it is you mean, for my sake—"

"Todoroki, everytime you open your mouth, I want to bend you over my desk." And before he could be even more

confused, he adds, "Sexually. Which is wildly inappropriate—and I assumed, based on our last conversations, that you understood that."

Todoroki's stock still, his breath stalling in his chest. He heard the professor—absolutely clearly—but the words have blindsided him, knocking

the air clean out of him.

Suddenly...it makes sense. The looks, the sudden distance—and just as suddenly, his cheeks feel on fire, and the haze of embarrassment starts to stifle him. "I—Oh,"

"Oh?" Dr. Midoriya asks, gently curling his hand around Todoroki's thigh—it's warm,

even through his pants, and 'Roki shivers, "What does 'oh' mean, Todoroki?"

"I-I—" He stammers, glancing at the blinds. They're open, but most of the philosophy department is gone for the night. "I...I don't know, professor, I've—I've never,"

He trails off, getting good and lost in big green eyes.

"You've never what?"

"I—" He gasps, shivering harshly when that hand on his thigh swipes higher. "I've—"

"Hm?" Dr. Midoriya stands, easing his thighs open and settling between them. "Never what?"

"Never been—never

done—"

"Todoroki?" Midoriya asks, gently.

'Roki's heart hammers in his chest, but he doesn't dare take a breath, not with Dr. M so close he could smell the cologne on his skin. "Sir?"

"Are you a virgin?"

His other hand curls at the opposite hip, and 'Roki gasps, "Yessir,"