#When i say doodle dump i MEAN it
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HUGE doodle dump
tons of doodles that don't deserve their own days to get posted i'll post today since I can't draw today
#dst#wilson#dst wilson#maxwell#dst maxwell#maxwil#When i say doodle dump i MEAN it#i have so many doodles i never post but these are more recent ones#ignore the fact i say these are the more recent ones and i haven't shown any paper doodles and these aren't even all of my recent ones and-#shhhhh
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Princess Sprinkles!
Vendetta Chris Redfield x fem reader!
cw: dd/lg, creampie, squirting (guys idk how squirting feels like....), multiple orgasms (reader), fingering, pet names, praise kink, oral fixation (reader obv), light mentions of breeding, soft dom!Chris!!, afab terms used, size kink ish.., Chris being silly, Chris being a lil mean one time, and some fluff :3 !! — Lmk if I missed anything.
wc: 2005 !! (🤭 birth year go crazyy LOL!)
notes: if you don't like ddlg just um. Idk don't read 💀!! I fr try not to make the reader teeny tiny but like dude Chris is huge asf.. size kink go brrr 🧎🏻♀️! I'll be making reader a lil squishy from now on bc I'm not skinny either ☝🏻.Also I used to watch the Bratz babyz movie on repeat sm that the disc got ruined 😭😭 soo.. yes that part is directly from yours truly! Not proof read 😵💫
tags: @argreion, @rigorwhoring bc ily guys 😇!!
"Daddy!" You squeal as soon as Chris picks you up and spins you around. Making your fluffy mini pleated skirt twirl upwards.
Chris hoists your pretty body over his shoulders and pats you on the butt, practically skipping towards your shared bedroom. It looks like someone dumped all the squishmallows possible into the master bedroom. He can't help but think of you every time he sees a stuffed animal. Shits rooted in his brain. Stuffies = his angel!
Yeah, he might have to fight with them to make room for himself, but he wouldn't trade it for any other way. He doesn't actually fight them, knowing you'd throw a hissy fit and say "Hate daddy! Forever 'n ever!" Chris's heart shatters like glass whenever you say that.
He's grown softer because of you and those little threats of yours make his heart drop down to the core of the Earth. Would he admit it to team Alpha? No. Never in a million years. But they've got eyes and ears, they're not Patrick Star. Dumb and living under a rock.
Lately he's been covered in hickeys and cute little doodles that're supposed to be like tattoos by yours truly. Goes to work and gets teased by his squad, telling him how you've got him wrapped around your pretty little finger. How much you've changed him, for the better. He always shrugs them off, putting them back to work.
You for sure made Chris cut back on smoking a fuck ton. Constantly crying about how the stench will ruin your stuffies and the coat the walls of the house with a film. You're right, that's for sure. And the fact that second hand smoke is even worse is what clicks it into his head for him. His baby. His sweetheart, could end up dying because of his stupid ass habits.
Chris has lost too many of his men because of his habits. Too many good men. You are his savior. He pounds away the guilt into your needy little cunt. Constantly craving him. Needing him. Loving him. Honest to God, he needs that more than anything in this lifetime.
"Sweetheart," he sighs and sets you down onto the bed. "I missed you. Whatcha been up to?"
"Slept 'n colored and um... Ate some snackies, watch movie, 'n had lotsa juice!" You mumble, eyes glancing around the entire room. Using your hands to talk, as your words get slurred when you're in this state of mind.
Chris presses a faint kiss to your temple and noses down to the underside of your ear. Carefully holding the back of your head with his hand. He gives you more kisses and blows raspberries into your ear, making you squeal and swat at him.
"That's good baby. Glad you had a productive day." Chris smiles at you lovingly.
Your heart then swoons, making you feel all mushy inside. Praise gets him everything from you. Just like you crying out for daddy gets you everything from him!
He lazily starts to unbuckle his belt, pulling it through the loops. Setting it down on the bedside table with a thud. He starts to undo his fly, pushing his pants all the way down, kicking out of them.
Only dressed in his boxers and shirt, he engulfs you with a hug. Nuzzling into your neck, feeling your hands grab ahold of his shirt.
"Daddy?"
"Just recharging honey, hold on." His voice is deep and gruffy, sending chills up your spine.
You lay there, body buzzing with warmth as his figure presses you into the mattress. His hips shift and move against yours, causing you to gasp.
Thighs squeezing against his fit waist and he sighs into your neck. "Daddy's not charge. He excited..." Your fingers tug on his shirt and he sits up.
"Off?" Pointing to his shirt and you clumsily remove your own shirt and skirt. Now both of you are only in your underwear. Well, you still have your white thigh highs on, but still.
He presses your thighs up to your chest and settles in the middle as best as he can. Feeling his skin on your skin feels like heaven. Makes your panties wet, which he's noticed but doesn't want to say anything about it. Knowing you get all shy and embarrassed when he points things out like that. He likes it. Thinks it's cute that you want skin ship.
"So pretty baby," he pushes his hips forward. His cock catching onto your clit with each slow roll. "Pretty pussy, pretty tits. Pretty girl. My pretty girl."
Chris leans back and gets rid of his boxers. Pulling your panties up to slip his cock between your folds. Laying back down on top of you. Humping you instead of fucking you.
You can't complain, his tip his pressing against your clit nicely. Your hips rolling up to meet his and his dick slips inside.
He bottoms out immediately with a growl. "Baby. Did I say you could put it in?" Chastising you with a rough thrust, acting like it's your fault his dick slipped inside of your tiny hole.
"Daddy, didn't mean to. Not m'fault," you whine out, kicking your legs.
"S'okay. Daddy will make it all better." Chris presses a kiss to your forehead and acts like he's going to pull it out. Only to harshly thrust it back into you. "Fuck, princess. She's not wanting to let me go. You hear her crying for me?"
Moaning, you dig your nails into his back, "Daddy, daddy, never leave," you start babbling already.
He groans and rabbits his hips, making the bed rock against the wall.
"Wait, daddy, stuffies no want look, turn," you try to speak as he continues to fuck you like he hates you.
"Shit, okay baby. Hold on," he grunts and turns them around as best as he can. "Better now?"
You nod and go in for a kiss and he meets you halfway. Drooling into your mouth and your tongues swirl together before you suck on his. Moaning as he drives himself deeper inside of you. Squelching sounds and skin on skin echoing in the bedroom. Surely you guys won't get a noise complaint this time!
He spits into your mouth and smears it all over your lips with his thumb, pushing it into your mouth. Who needs a pacifier when you've got daddy's thumb?
Watching your eyes flutter shut and your lips wrapping around his thumb, it sets him off. His other hand driving down between you both and rubbing harshly at your puffy nub.
Biting down, you furrow your eyebrows. Breathing quickly and moaning softly. "Close," you hum around his digit. Sucking on it as you get closer and closer.
Chris's dick hits a special spot inside of you and your body shakes underneath him. Pussy trying to push out his cock as a clear liquid shoots out of you.
"Goddamn, baby, squirting on me, mmhh—fuck..." His hips falter and he dumps his cum inside of you. Resting his body on you, burying you into the bed. Making sure his cum never leaves you.
Chris pulls his thumb out of your mouth and kisses you feverishly. "Putting a baby in you, s'that alright princess?" Your pussy agrees by clenching around his thickness.
But he's acting like you've got a choice, since he's already done the deed. He pulls you up into his arms and you guys slowly make your way to the bath. Still connected and full.
Keeping you in his arms, he reaches down to turn on the water and put in the plug. You giggle and some of his cum starts to spurt out and drip down his balls. He settles in the tub with you on his lap, grabbing the soap to fill it with bubbles.
Chris slowly lifts you off of his length and sets you between his legs. Back pressed against his hairy chest. While his cum dribbles out of you.
His fingers make their way down to your sensitive cunt and slowly dips them inside. "Shh, I know baby," pressing soft kisses to your cheek as you whine and claw weakly at his forearms. The other one is keeping you pressed against him.
"Daddy's helping you baby," he starts to curl his fingers and your legs shake. Clearly overstimulated from earlier. But Chris starts to be a bit greedy, smacking his palm against your pretty little pearl.
Throwing your head back against his shoulder, he coaxes you into another orgasm. With the disguise of helping you get his cum out. If anything, he's trying to fuck it back into. Serious about putting a mini him or you inside of your tummy.
"Baby, almost there. Y'got it princess.. mmh.. cum one more time for daddy? Promise I'll clean you up and get us some donuts with sprinkles on 'em, just the way you like." Man, he's even bribing you! Daddy knows what you really want right now. So you whimper in response.
"Daddy, mmhhff... Daddy oh god! Please, please, please!" Your heels dig into the tub as the water fills it. His lips sucking and biting into your neck is what makes you cream around his digits.
Body convulsing and breath raggedy and higher as you come down from your second high of the night. Chris grabs your face and kisses you all over, mumbling praises into your skin. "Good girl, daddy's so proud of you."
Then, he takes his time washing you off, letting you play with the rubber duckies and splashing water onto him. Putting bubbles on his beard and making one for yourself.
"I daddy! See?" You pout and furrow your eyebrows, taking a drag of an imaginary cigarette. Chris rolls his brown eyes and takes the imaginary cigarette and puts it out.
"Babies can't do that stuff, remember? Only daddies can do that, silly baby girl." He wipes the bubbles off of your face and his, nibbling on your earlobe. Making chewing noises, "Om nom nom, my baby tastes so yummy!"
You squeal and press your face into your shoulder. "Daddy! Got wash so we can eat nummy donut! Donut sprinkle!"
He hums and gets to work. Gently washing your back and hair as you wash your front side and down to your toes. Chris hauls you up and he turns on the shower to wash your hair and his. God knows he needs this shower after training his new squad mates today.
Chris washes his own figure as you cup the water in your tiny hands and splash it up in the air. Watching you pretend you have powers as the water runs down your arms and to the tips of your fingers.
"Alright princess. Let's go get some sprinkled donuts," he pats your heart shaped ass with a chuckle. Wrapping you in a fuzzy towel, he gets to work drying you off. It reminds you of that Bratz babyz movie. Sure reminds him of it too. From how often you guys watched it, the CD stopped working and you threw a fit.
So of course, he bought a couple more, just in case. It's not like he doesn't have the money for it. So why not keep his baby sated with something so simple as a 2000s movie? He even bought you some Bratz dolls and monster high ones. Likes how you squeal and jump around in excitement every time he buys you something so simple as a doll. Makes him happy.
"Princess sprinkles and daddy sprinkles! Getting donut sprinkles! Sprinkles, sprinkles, sprinkles!" You laugh as he puts on your blue matching cinnamoroll pajamas that he spent fifty dollars on. Worth it in his opinion. Looks so cute on you, he can't help but press kisses all over your cheeks.
"Alright, alright, princess sprinkles. Let's go get in the car. Daddy'll buy you all the chocolate sprinkled donuts there is at the bakery." Chris's heart thumps in his chest. Yeah, there's a sprinkled shaped hole with a sprinkle version of you in his heart.
#resident evil smut#resident evil x reader#chris redfield smut#chris redfield x reader#chris resident evil#resident evil chris#chris smut#chris redfield#resident evil vendetta#resident evil fanfiction#fanfiction#leon s kennedy#leon scott kennedy#leon kennedy smut#localkiss
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Doodle Dump!
Hello Kandavers Tumblr Nation! If you can't already tell, I've been absolutely BRAINROTTING over www-related content these past few days HEHE
I've been drawing a lot of his interactions with my Beloved Mutuals' OCs and I thought I'd post it here as a mass post because they're Too Silly and Goofy (and Doodly) AND I WOULD ALSO LIKE TO RAMBLE ABOUT IT PLEASE AND THANK YOU
(Warning! Some of them are mmmildlyyyy suggestive hehe) (As a Treat!)
Characters heads up:
Will Wayward by Me!
Starii by @dianacoreexe
Valentine Hart by @chronnellian
Mimix by @sleepyzuku
Mori Moonlet by @kawaiialeisha
Here's Mimix, Will and Mori jamming together in their MWM Band (Outfits subject to change HAHA we never really got that far with the Designs save for Mimix (common sleepyzuku slay)):
(Adding a Keep Reading button so that the post won't be too Long!!)
And the slicked back hair WWW I drew just for the occasion:
I KNOW I HAVENT OFFICIALLY POSTED A PROPER WWW X MIMIX SHIP POST BUT I've mentioned before WWW and Mimix are in a relationship, and we have this running joke that Mori would occasionally be a third wheel in their relationship it's HILARIOUS !!!
(cw suggestive:)
And shy Mimix got me so weak HAHA:
It's so cute that Mimix can't handle intimacy that well, so Will always helps him take the initative aaa,,, DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN WHEN I SAY I'VE GOT BRAINWORMS
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"Out of everyone in this entire universe" (The first panel is by Diana themselves for context LMAO)
See, we both agreed that Will and Starii would be Adopted siblings! There's a little bit of lore to it, which is Starii is an Alien whose space ship crashed onto Earth when she was Smaller, and Will, being the Space Nerd (tm) he is, he offered to let her Stay with him while he fixed her ship! (And for context, Winnie is Will's biological sister that I have not designed nor planned yet !)
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This one is just so funny to me HAHAHA
(cw: suggestive)
But despite the erm... Physical Admiration 💀 Will has for Valentine, I offer you SOFT and WHOLESOME doodles and they make me SO VERY WEAK I AM SO SOFT FOR THEM ARGHHHH
And bonus kissy,,,,
When they say "I love you" while affectionately gazing at each other like that... ouuuu I think I will Pass Out /pos
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Bonus cute details:
Will used to have just 1 earring pierced on his Left Ear (if I recall correctly 💀 hashtag bad OC creator) but he went to get the other one pierced with Mimix
After meeting Starii, she gave him one of her earrings, so his Right Ear would always have a star-shaped earring! (Don't worry about consistency i literally forget all the time too LOL)
He has one of those succubus-looking tattoos on his tummy 😳😳 Solely because I think it's cute and ZESTY and it has 0 things to do with his character but thats okay. <3
And honestly shout out to All These Artists for feeding my delusions and brainrots at 2-3am even, with their ideas and headcanons too, they got me Giggling and Kicking my Feet and Everything WAAA
I REALLY LOVE HOW I AM ABLE TO CREATE THESE COOL AND MUSHY OC INTERACTIONS WITH THEM <3333 Honestly I love my mutuals so much they're so Amazing hehe
That's the Doodle Dump for Now! Thank you for reading this far and listening to my Deranged Rambles about them !
And last but not least, go follow my Mooties if You havent already 🫵🫵💥‼️‼️ I love You!!! /p
#kanrambles#kandaversart#kandoodles#welcome home#welcome home fanart#welcome home puppet show#welcome home arg#welcome home au#welcome home oc#welcome home original character#will wayward#starii#starii wayward#mimix#valentine hart#mori moonlet#winnie wayward#kandaversoc#long post#massive post#humongous post even#oc#original character
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Some journal prompts I like (writing and creative) :
I’m going to do a separate list for some chronic illness journal ideas bc I’ve found it’s so helpful!
Write out the lyrics to your favourite song and/or do a drawing / painting / collage of your interpretation of the song
Books you want to read
Films you want to watch
Diary entry about your day
Bujo style - plan out your week or month
Pressed flowers
Scripting (manifestation)
Vision board (manifestation)
Notes on a topic you’re learning about (for example I like to watch lots of nature or history documentaries and sometimes I make notes on them in my journal or if it’s witchy stuff I write it in my grimoire)
Letter to past you / future you / someone in your life (remember they don’t have to read it, this has helped me so much in certain situations so I can get out whatever I want to say without upsetting people) / someone you love who has passed on / the god or deity you worship if you worship one / to your future children / future partner
Wishlist
Ideas for things (like stories you want to write, photo shoots, fashion, films, art etc)
Poetry (either that you’ve written or that someone else has written that you like)
Get to know me page so if you want to look back on your journal in the future you can see what you were like then
Films you’ve watched / books you’ve read / favourite songs from the past month
Positive affirmations
Shadow work
Sticker / photo dump
Recipes
Go sit in nature and draw or write about what you see or feel when you’re there
Draw out your alter ego
Stick in scraps from throughout your day (such as receipts, labels from things, stickers, pictures etc)
Book reviews
To do lists
Design your dream room
Your childhood (draw or write about childhood memories, hobbies, things you used to collect, stick in childhood photos, the toys you used to play with etc)
Travel bucket list
Life bucket list
Family tree
Write a list of things that make you happy
Stream of consciousness
Write about your dreams and what you think they might mean
Brain dump (I sometimes do this before I go to sleep if somethings going on)
Doodle page
Stick in notes your loved ones have written to you
List of favourite quotes
Self care ideas
List of songs / playlist
Goals in life / 5 year plan
Plan a day out or a holiday
Plan content you want to make for social media
Tattoos you want to get
Things that make you happy
Outfit ideas
Hobbies you currently have
Hobbies you want to try
List of things you collect
Yoga / exercise routine
Seasonal bucket lists
Things you want to learn or research
Mood tracker
Stick in any colouring pages you’ve done
Daily skincare routine
List of Studio Ghibli films and tick off the ones you’ve watched
List of your favourite things
List of things to do when you’re bored
If you normally write about your day, draw pictures of all the things you did instead of writing (a bit like in a comic book)
Advice people have given you that has been really helpful
Ideal morning / night routine
Notes from therapy / hospital appointments
Page of all your cinema tickets
List of people that inspire you
Angel numbers
Crystals and their meanings
Your favourite artists
Worry tree
Favourite memories
Write your dream wardrobe
Reasons to stay alive
Stick in photos and write a bit about them
Names you like
Favourite words
Write about an event (a description of what happened, how it left you feeling, who was there and what they said and did, what you wish had happened instead, the reasons why you find it hard to let go, steps you could take to start to move on)
Notes on a language you’re learning
Collage about a film you’ve recently watched
Glow up check list
Write about a tarot reading you did
What does heaven and hell mean to you
Flip through a magazine and do a collage of pictures from it
#journalling#journal#book of shadows#creativity#alt#art#art journal#bookofshadowsprompts#journal prompts#writing#doodles#journal ideas
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DATING HEADCANONS !
an wanderer x reader fluff !
no gender or pronoun said
warnings: none !
when you both started dating, the silence was pure awkward. you didn't know what to say and so did he.
but most of the time it was you the one who broke the silence, asking small things like how was his day and stuff like that.
he got slowly used to that, so everytime he got home he'd look for you and talk about his day, and talking(gossiping) about some people.
he'd say about how the teachers on akadimiya know nothing, and that even he himself would be a better teacher.
it was good to see him slowly opening up to you. very slowly.
I'd say his love language is acts of service.
when you go to work/anywhere he'd clean the house/cook, but bonk you when you come home.
"dont get used to this. and when you finish eating go wash the dishes."
you couldnt say much, he cleaned the whole house, you can at least do this for him.
he can't use words or affection to show that he loved you, so he helps you with anything. anything really. but he'd call you dumb after it.
nah, in the first days of the relationship yall would not sleep together. maybe in the same bed, but wouldn't face each other from shyness of both.
somehow, when you sleep he ends up getting a little closer, maybe even hugging you. but always make sure to wake up before you so you dont see it.
you two would only end up cuddling if you ask him for it. then you both would cuddle everyday, but you couldn't say anything about it if you want it to continue.
PDA is too new for him. i think the most he'd do would hold your finger in a crowded place.
unless if someone flirts with you, he'd hug you by behind, staring at the person with an big smirk on his face, or an deadly glare. maybe both.
randomly info dumps you. hear me out.
coming to you out of nowhere and start doing the biggest presentation you know.
then he'd leave. i swear.
if in a modern AU, he'd definitely make an music playlist that remembers him of you.
doodles you when he should be studying. in my head he is very good at drawing, but always make horrenduous drawings of you (when you are close, whenever you leave he'd do the most yummy drawing of you ever made.)
doesn't care if you are strong or weak, whenever he sees an hillichurl or whatever he goes boom boom!!! secretly wants to impress you. but shruggs it off saying you are too dumb to defend yourself.
when y'all dating for like, one year he'd be all used to you. randomly placing his head on your lap, neck, anything whenever he feels like it.
once you two had the smallest argument and he got real scared of you leaving him, so he bought you your favorite food, also shrugging it off with some mean comment.
never really means to hurt you, just cant bring himself to be an kind cheesy boy.
i can imagine you and nahida doing pigtails in his hair. sorry.
actually loves you, but on his own way.
my back hurts so much
the requests are open, send me asks pls
#wanderer x reader#genshin headcanons#wanderer#wanderer headcanons#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche headcanons#ⓘ MADE BY MECPENCIL ON TUMBLR
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Hi! 🐑🐑 anon here! thanks so much for the sheep :)))
I’m typing on my phone rn so I can type much better. Thank you for the advice!!! So here’s my Argentina thing:
I go to school here (7th grade) and we have breaks betweeen every class!!! 5-15 minute breaks! It’s illegal to not have them! It’s amazing!
i get to choose my lunch every day! I choose, I buy, and I can eat almost anywhere! I always eat the same thing (caprese roll) cuz autism and vegetarianism
speaking of which, we can eat in any of the breaks! We decide! It’s awesome!!!
no dress code! No awful suffocating polo shirts! With the worst fabric made! Just whatever I want to wear! Every day!!!
if I can’t do something, I’m allowed to not do it! I don’t have to do gym! I can sit it out! Gym is rlly hard for me bcuz I remember one day in my life when I could run for more than a minute without doubling over gasping at the end. Also, I hate it.
Not school related things now:
everyone uses their hands to talk! So I don’t get weird looks for my stimming!!! It’s incredible!!!!!
this is a ginormous one for me: THEY ARE SO BLUNT HERE. They use body language, which I can read well, and they just say what they mean! It’s such a relief!!! I can trust them!!! I don’t have to try doubly hard to figure out what they’re saying!!!! ITS SO SO SO AWESOME!!!!
also: a down point is that the greeting is usually a hug. But for some reason, here, hugs are better! They give me tons of warning bcuz I know when they’re gonna do it so I can prepare! Everyone talks with their body and it’s so much easier to understand!
Back to school real quick, we address the teachers by first names!!! No titles that seem to just distance us from ppl supposed to help us!!!
yeah, there are asshoels, but mainly, people are so nice! But in a genuine way! Not in a stupid social cues way! They are genuinely happy to see you, and if they aren’t, you know! No passive aggressive, no sarcasm (I like sarcasm sometimes but it can be annoying), just actual words!!!
wveeyone gets accommodations! The gym thing, are you tired? Or did you break your hand? Whatever! You can sit out! Do you need to doodle in class? There’s no, “do you have a (professionally diagnosed) learning disability? No? Then no.” Just yes! Sure! I love your doodles! Can u draw something for me?
Anyway, that was a lot. I’m actually fascinated in this and obsessed so thx so much for letting me info dump in your inbox!!!! Hope it’s interesting! There’s more, which I’ll add later!
-🐑🐏
Hi 🐑🐑! That all sounds great! I'm glad you've had such a positive experience there ☺️ I wish I could have got out of gym, I always found it so difficult and my PE teachers could be pretty mean 😔
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soulmate trope | aizawa, part two.
Aizawa's route of soulmate trope.
Part two bc tumblr formatting weird (also it's formatted the texting sextions oddly. pls be patient). Part one here.
Warnings: BTS mention. Reader is explicitly a kissless virgin to make Aizawa feel Worse. Part one: reader gets a mild hand injury. Threat of dub-con. Claustrophobia. Sexual content, with virgin-y themes. Part two: alcohol consumption (not by reader). Sexual content, with virgin-y themes. Fem reader.
Remember that U.A., for the purposes of this fic, is a university. Lore dropped carries over to previous and subsequent chapters.
~38k overall. ~18k for part two.
The semester trudged on.
It ripped you apart, interacting with Aizawa in class as if you were the same as every other student, when you knew what he ordered at his favourite hole-in-the-wall ramen place, what he looked like shaving in the morning, what type of cat treat Konpeito preferred—the trivialities were stacking, and you savoured each one.
YOU
i had a dream about you
SHOUTA
Should you be texting during class?
YOU
Yamada-sensei has abandoned his lesson
YOU
in favour of recording noises for put your hands up radio
SHOUTA
Noises
YOU
bleep bloop
YOU
hey ya howdy doodle doo
YOU
etc.
Present Mic knew about the soulmate bond, as you’d suspected. While you’d been grading for one of Midnight’s underclassmen classes, Aizawa conveniently had been in the faculty lounge at the same time. You still had to be careful, hanging out, because it’s a tenuous boundary to walk, and you never know who’s watching.
For example, Present Mic.
He’d walked by at the same time Aizawa had mumbled a sorry about that in regards to how ill-stocked the faculty lounge was to preparing coffee, and Present Mic had only heard what he wanted to hear.
“OOOH,” he’d shouted, and he’d dropped everything in his arms and contorted his back over the arch of Aizawa’s leather office chair to hang upside down. “ARE YOU STILL GROVELLING FOR BEING A LITTLE BITCH, LOVER BOY?!”
You’d also felt like screaming.
“Don’t call me that.” Aizawa had whacked Mic’s face away, but he’d kept hanging around and slapped his hands to his cheeks.
“OH, HO? SHOULD I SAY LARGE BITCH, THEN?! YOU SHOULD TELL HER HOW HARD MIDNIGHT BLEW INTO YOU FOR BEING A HUGE DICK.” Present Mic had slithered farther into Aizawa’s seat and nearly into his lap.
Aizawa’d reached for his sleeping bag. “Midnight…was pissed at me for treating you the way I did,” he’d said, tucking his feet in and yanking the yellow fabric up around his hips, and he swatted at Mic again, who slinked his way into the sleeping bag, too. “What she’d heard from you—”
“SHE MADE HIM RIDE HER THIGH,” Present Mic had said, somewhat muffled in his headfirst descent into the sleeping bag, “TO GET RID OF THAT SEX QUIRK. SHE SAID IT’D BE ESPECIALLY HUMILIATING AND PATHETIC IF HE CAME WITHOUT HER HELP.”
Aizawa had upturned his sleeping bag to dump Present Mic out of it, and, muttering under his breath, he’d zipped himself in and rolled over to the faculty couch, curling up underneath the coffee table.
Present Mic had spun Aizawa’s chair twice before sitting in it, and he’d propped his chin on both fists. “So! How are you doing? Does he know about your contraband cat yet?”
YOU
he’s trying to bribe dark shadow into bellowing the opening jingle
YOU
i think i’m gonna throw up
SHOUTA
I’ll intervene if the lights pop out again
YOU
rolling around in a sleeping bag is not the fastest method of travel
SHOUTA
Ground yourself. Head between your knees, if you have to
YOU
(◕‿◕✿)
YOU
thanks i’m cured
YOU
but yes back to dream about you
SHOUTA
It isn’t explicit, is it?
It was still all frustratingly platonic and professional from his end. You understood, but that didn’t mean you didn’t hate it. Sometimes you trained with him and Shinsou, but that was all that you could officially schedule. Everything else had to fall as a tired coincidence.
It meant being in the same area of the library doing work, at tables far from each other. Casually bringing him tea when you’re making your rounds through the faculty offices for Midnight. Joining the regular rotation of Eri’s babysitters—but only if Togata or Monoma couldn’t make it that day, and oh, Midoriya’s out, I guess I need someone else who’s not doing anything right now?
(Babysitting meant that Aizawa would be out, but Eri liked you, especially since you brought Dango over to play with Konpeito. If Aizawa had noticed the different type of cat hair on his shitty couch by now, he hasn’t said anything.)
SHOUTA
Don’t put that sort of thing in writing
YOU
of course it’s explicit. how could i tell you any details if it’d been vague and nebulous
SHOUTA
Pedant.
YOU
you love it
SHOUTA
Debateable
YOU
(❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)
YOU
anyway so in dream we’re at some sort of outdoor awards ceremony
YOU
and the ground is covered in dead wet leaves
Just like Ito said, there’s been an increase in romantic clichés in your life—but, as you discovered (and reported back to both Midnight and Ito), you have to lean into the cliches for them to happen. A backburner signal goes off in your brain when the opportunity for a romantic cliché arrives, and you apparently have the option to ignore it. Which is nice, because the signal only bleeps (more of a gut feeling, really) at what could be a first step, without elaborating what situation might unfold.
You found you have the most energy for the first step signals surrounding coffee shops, and those have been very stare-at-each-other-from-across-the-room-in-unvarnished-lust (although, one time, you were handed an application to work there. You declined). What turned out to be a forced-to-be-roommates cliché brought about the destruction of your dorm room, and only your dorm room, by a training accident and your first step of opening your window overnight, but the whole cliché was subverted, because not only did Aizawa refuse to let you choose his flat over one of your friend’s dorms, but Cementoss and his team repaired your dorm by bedtime.
YOU
we are alone at the shittiest, kind of broken table at the back of the venue
YOU
and there’s still pressure to keep our relationship secret bc people are weird about professor/former student stuff
SHOUTA
Nice to hear you plan on graduating
YOU
sensei (derogatory)
YOU
and you let me scoot my chair as close to you as possible and h*ld your h*nd. intertwining our fingers. letting me k*ss them. you positioned yourself so that no one else would see
YOU
(notice how i censored the sexual parts. yer welcome)
YOU
you had your hair half-up half-down, some of it pulled back in a bun. v v v sexy btw, you should do this irl more often
SHOUTA
I’ll see what I can do
YOU
and you let me play with your hair a bit, with you leaning into my touch. we shared a very sugary pear that i had to fight Yamada-sensei at the buffet for. v v v v v warm and intimate
YOU
the sharing of the pear. not the fight. obviously
YOU
i swear, not knowing what kissing/physical romantic stuff feels like makes my brain come up with the most intimate shit on the planet
YOU
so yeah i dreamt some damn this bitch lonely hours about you
YOU
/ᐠ - ˕ -マ
YOU
…shouta??
YOU
you’re not in class rn, right??
SHOUTA
You tell me that you subconsciously devised an act so fondly intimatewith me adn hagve the nerve to say yo’ure fuckngi lonely
SHOUTA
You’re going to rip me apart
Aizawa still hasn’t touched you in any way that matters. The soulmark flitted from behind your ear to your fingertips, your forearm, the back of your hand, and carefully back into its hidden place behind your ear. If anyone’s noticed, they haven’t said a word. You’ve been careful.
(The terribly, awfully, evilly romantic touch that made your head spin when it happened [and now when you think back on it] hadn’t even been skin to skin. It had been, in a small group of people, his hand flattening and lingering on the small of your back for just a bit too long, in congratulations for getting selected to student-teach a stealth section of a class for hero-course first-years.
Because you know it was an intentional decision to touch you like that. He could’ve just clapped you on the shoulder, like he would’ve done for any other student.
But he chose to spread the warmth.)
YOU
funny. that isn’t on the itinerary until after graduation
SHOUTA
You’re on thin fucking ice
YOU
and if i fall in??? whatcha gonna do, rescue me???
One of these days, when you shift in your sleep to his bed, you’re going to wake up with his arm around you. You can feel it.
***
The academic situation the week before graduation was a joke.
Less than a third of the seniors bothered to show up to class, and those who did sat through classes on their phones and with their friends instead of in the dumbass seating arrangement. Sero, honest to God, brought his switch to class and played Mario Kart with Todoroki and Kouda, and that was the most intellectually stimulating conversation unfolding.
You attended, because Aizawa had to. You figured you could lighten the mood, and the odds of you shifting to be next to him were significantly lower if you were in the same room.
The lax attitude permeated Sakura Grove, too. Ito was incredibly receptive to all rehabilitation efforts, accepting everything thrown at her with enthusiasm, so long as she got to have access to some way of watching hot people. She was easily coerced into tough recovery shit purely through the promise of BTS interviews and josei manga.
She was even allowed to have her home collection of josei and shoujo manga shipped to her, usually in a care package from her aunt. It wasn’t worth the effort it took you to go through them to approve their contents, but you still scrutinised and logged everything according to Grove standards.
Hell, the candy you were sneaking out of your backpack right now was from Ito. You were eating a goddamn villain’s sweets from home, and it wasn’t even the first time. Ito’s aunt apparently confused her flavour preferences with her sister’s, so you got the flavours Ito didn’t like. And everyone, including Midnight, was strangely okay with this.
(Midnight tried some, too, the first time Ito offered, after the bag had been put through the fucking rungs. Days of processing to ensure its safety, and the moment Midnight put one on her tongue, she spat it back out onto her desk, where it rolled off into the carpet and picked up fuzz. She ended up asking the on-site translator what the fuck the Dutch label said, because when you expect caramel and get salted liquorice, it’s a shock.)
Ito hadn’t wanted these little lemon-lime-flavoured bitches, even though Jungkook was beaming into a bouquet of daffodils under the logo, so here you were, a semi-hard green ball surreptitiously stowed in your cheek as you struggled to bite down (they had a bizarre inside texture. Interesting enough to keep eating them despite your caution, because something deep in your gut told you to keep eating them. Signs of addiction, anybody?). Your book splayed open on your desk (actually yours in the seating chart, since it was the closest to the door and therefore sweet, sweet freedom), but you were half-reading it, half-scrolling through your phone in your lap.
The sleeping bag slowly rose and fell from its place lying across the teacher desk, the only indication that Aizawa was awake at all being the sluggish deflation of the applesauce packet he was sucking on. The end of the sleeping bag dangled off the edge of the desk, with his boots mutedly knocking against the metal side when he exerted enough effort to take a deeper breath and thus upset his oh-so-delicate position lying on his back. Cosy little bastard. The instant you graduate, you’re climbing into that thing and sucking the soul out of his cock.
Nothing was happening online, and you were pissed at the protagonist in your book, since she was getting to go on a date with her hotboy emo assassin boyfriend, and you weren’t. And Todoroki’s sudden screech at losing again really kept you from concentrating, but, y’know, it’s not like anything’s going on… You checked the wall clock. An hour left, and then there’s only two more school days until you’re out of here.
You cracked the candy in half, caught a strange, flaky texture against the roof of your mouth, and swallowed it down before sneakily reaching for the next one. Out of here. Out of U.A. Now, that’s actually debatable for you, and it left a weird feeling in your stomach. With the work you’ve been doing for Midnight all these years and what Present Mic and Aizawa have shown you about the academic process, you were doubting yourself: you’ve always planned on being a pro-hero, but (cringe) teaching was actually really fucking appealing. Yes, parents were insane, and emails were the devil, but teaching itself was a goddamn delight. The way those first years’ faces had lit the fuck up as they connected things you’d taught them in the stealth section was the best thing you’d seen in a long, long time. And they were as excited about it as you were.
You low-key hated how much you liked it. Because if you stayed on at U.A. to teach (and Nezu has hinted that he’d be interested in hiring you), you’d never escape the professor/student status with Aizawa, even though you’d be his peer on staff. Because everyone around you would remember, and everyone who didn’t know would connect the dots.
If you taught somewhere else, you wouldn’t get to see him much at all, and you might not even get to teach hero-course-relevant material.
Your tentative plan, agonised over in detail with Midnight, was to keep sidekicking under her at Sakura Grove as a steadier job with more routine, especially since Ito would probably be approved for parole soon, and to work as a pro-hero somewhere else as well. You’d groaned and she’d laughed when you came to the conclusion that, with your skill set, you’d be most useful working as an underground hero like Aizawa.
It was both shitty and gratifying that everything in your life seemed to point towards him.
God, this class was dragging on. You willed the hands to spin around the clock faster as you sucked on a fresh piece of candy, determined to suck down to the centre to see what the odd inner texture was about instead of chomping down again like Ito into a picture of Suwabe Jun'ichi.
Maybe you should play a round of Mario Kart. Might take your mind off things. I bet I can run Todoroki into the lava first try, you thought as you swirled the increasingly porous ball around with your tongue.
Yeah, that sounded brain-numbing enough. Shutting your book, you slid it to the corner of your desk and started to get up, giving up and swallowing the damn candy.
But you’d evidently gotten past the hard-candy coating to something large and dense blooming rapidly right as it hit the back of your throat, and you were choking, loudly, drawing the attention of even a Shy-Guy focused Sero, and after coughing up an embarrassing amount of yellow-green spittle, you unceremoniously hacked up a surprisingly realistic daffodil blossom, unfolding to its true size as it lay in your thickened saliva.
“Eurgh,” you said, testing, and you cleared your throat again, prickly and grating. You had only closed your eyes for a second, but Aizawa was standing in front of you, eyes widened in horror at the flower you’d coughed up. How had he gotten out of his sleeping bag so—?
Before you could get a word out, Aizawa grabbed you by your (bare) forearm and rushed you out of the classroom, arm sliding around your waist before he even shut the door behind him. The pink ink smeared down your arm as he led you to the closest empty hallway, where he skidded to a halt and clamped his hands on your shoulders, looking directly at you with the most serious expression he’s ever shown you.
“I haven’t been kind; I haven’t been honest,” he began, all apologies and concern and a desperate sort of tenderness, “I’ve been putting it off because I’ve been selfish and have wanted so hard to do this right, because I don’t deserve anything as good for me as you, and you don’t deserve anything thoroughly fucked up like I am.” Aizawa’s obscenely large hand cupped your face, taking up your entire cheek with his fingertips grazing your earlobe and neck (oh, man, choke me about it), the pad of his thumb hovering over your lower eyelashes; he jerked you towards him, his gentle grip trapping your arm between your bodies.
What the fuck?
I mean, you’ll take this. You’ll take it.
What the fuck’s he on? Those applesauce packets have addled his brain.
He must have read your complete bewilderment as encouragement, because he kept going like he had to vomit up these words or else get shish-kebabed for Mic’s end-of-the-year barbecue. “But now that you’re fucking dying—God, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. I had—plans. For you. But now—Christ—you should know that I haven’t thought of you as a stu—”
“Oh, my fucking God,” you said, your jaw dropping in the smuggest fucking grin and shaking your head, “Oh, my God. Shouta.”
He was flushed and panting, but he stopped to listen. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.
(Oh. You’ve never said his name aloud before.
You made a note to tease him about that later. You have something worse to make fun of.)
“You are the dumbest fuck alive,” you said with a shit-eating grin, reaching up to finger-comb his hair out of his face, “I was eating in class. I swallowed a piece of flowering candy at the wrong time. Hanahaki disease isn’t real.”
Aizawa untangled himself from you and took a step back, and then another. “Neither are soulmates,” he said carefully.
“Okay, okay, I can see the logical jump,” you conceded, holding your hands up, “You may continue with your sordid confession now.”
Aizawa blinked, weary again now that the adrenaline was draining away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, fluffing up his capture weapon to cover most of his face.
“Oh, you—you prick! You’re going to hell.” You grinned, poking your tongue into your cheek. “It’s two more days until graduation, and the minute I’m off that stage, I’m yours. C’mon. You can bend your rules with two days left.”
For some reason, he sank more into his scarf. “Let’s go back to the classroom before Todoroki lights something on fire.”
***
You’re vibrating out of your metal chair at the commencement ceremony. Glassy-eyed, you went through the motions of the walk, the pictures, the handshakes, sad goodbyes that aren’t even real, because people were going to the same places and agencies that they’ve been working at for the past few years. Just as pros.
Aizawa’s right there, and his hair’s slicked back, and he’s wearing a suit, and he’s avoiding your ravenous gaze like a good professor should, instead bowing to parents and entertaining the small but constant group that swarmed him.
Hiss, hiss. Back off. He’s yours. You've waited.
When Jirou asked about the twitch in your left eye, you decided it was time to leave. You’re driving yourself insane, watching him like this.
You sat on the front steps of U.A. with Shinsou as the sun sank past the horizon, jovially engaging with your friends who stopped to talk before going out to celebrate. He didn’t ask after whom you’re waiting for, though it was clear you were killing time.
When the night chill swept through the courtyard, Shinsou stood, his hands in his pockets. “I’m beat.” When you didn’t join him, he continued. “D’you wanna go get ice cream, or something, before turning in?”
Aizawa’s still inside. “I’m okay,” you said, stretching, bones cracking, “I think I’ll stay here a bit longer. You go ahead.”
Shinsou stared at you oddly for a second, but he nodded. “Right, then. I’ll go.” He jogged up a couple of stairs before calling back, “You shouldn’t wait out here too long.”
You waved him off.
Eventually, a night wind came that had you pulling down on your sleeves, hunched over on the stairs and rubbing your upper arms. You dug out your phone—no messages—and called him.
He answered after a few rings, his voice groggy and hoarse. “Hello?”
“Where are you?”
“Where am—I’m in my bed. I’m sleeping,” said Aizawa, yawning distantly (he must be tilting his speaker away). He sounded a bit more awake when he asked, “Where are you?”
Fury overtook you. “Where am I? You dense mother—”
You’re straddling his hips in his bed, layers and layers of blankets between you and him.
“—fucker.” You glared down at him, hair mussed up and splayed on his pillow. You hung up your phone and tossed it off the bed; you grabbed his and flung it into the wall. “I waited for you to come out of that building,” you said, planting your hands on either side of his chest to loom over him in what was hopefully a threatening way.
Rubbing an eye with the heel of his palm, Aizawa said, “I hoped you wouldn’t. Shouldn’t you be out with your friends? You’ve graduated. You’ve completed a tough stage of your life.”
“Correct. But aren’t you omitting,” you said, bunching up the fabric of his black henley in a burst of courage (though you didn’t know whether to put your weight on him or not, so you just kind of hovered), “that I’m not your student anymore? I’ve graduated, Shouta. I’ve waited. It’s time. We can start our lives together for real. Aren’t you—aren’t you going to kiss me about it?”
Aizawa’s chest rose and fell underneath your fist, and when he didn’t respond, you released his shirt and sat back with all of your weight on his legs. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding.” You crossed your arms, uncrossed them in a nervous fidget, and crossed them again so that you wouldn’t touch him in any way that grossed him out. Though every cell in your body shouted not to, you climbed off of him, kneeling at his side instead. “What’s,” you started, hesitating, “Is anything wrong that you haven’t told me? Is there anything I can do to help?”
Barely perceptible in the crack of moonlight through his partially drawn curtains, Aizawa gave you a sad smile. “There’s something fucked up about waiting until graduation to kiss you, isn’t there?”
“Goddammit,” you said, crumpling and burying your face in your hands, “I get it. I get it.” You ran your tongue over your lower lip. “I hate you.”
Aizawa reached out to brush hair out of your face, not that you really needed it. “No, you don’t.”
“No, I don’t,” you said back, shaking at his cool touch sliding behind your ear to fix the soulmark.
***
The next ten months of your life were a blur.
In an attempt to not feel so terribly lonely, you buried yourself in work, Sakura Grove during the day and moonlighting as an underground hero after dark. You had to be a pro to be a professor at U.A., so you pushed yourself not just to be good but good enough. Hopefully, you’d be firmly established as a pro before you went back.
Nezu had discussed that with you in an unofficial job talk that last week of school. You’d also taken the opportunity to confide in your soulmate situation, and God bless Nezu for being so discreet and understanding. He promised to keep your student ID active so that you could still scan into doors on campus and that you could leave without hassle when you shifted to Aizawa (it did tons for your self-esteem when Nezu suggested going ahead and upgrading your student pass to a faculty one; you’d walked out of that meeting positively glowing).
You haven’t been shifting to Aizawa as often. You figured it was because you were suppressing your desire to be next to him as much as you could—still fucking difficult, since it crossed your mind every day. You kept it as low-stress as you could—you most often shifted to him in your sleep, so you could sneak out before the bastard woke up.
(You didn’t want to think about how he’s keeping to one side of the bed, using bedding and blankets instead of his sleeping bag now. You continued to leave nothing but your indent on the pillow.)
(You could count the number of times he shifted to you [that you were aware of] on one hand, but once, as you blinked away sleep, he was scratching Dango’s neck in what appeared to be a familiar way.)
The ache made its home in your chest again.
***
Then came a mission.
To quell the PLF action outside of Mustafu, a team was going undercover to PLF bases throughout Japan to extinguish them. And hey, who do we know who has amazing track records, already work well together, and aren’t too well known by the public and thus are able to go undercover?
Class A reunited in the back of a rented-out, hole-in-the-wall ramen place (Class B was the other team and met in a different location). The cook waved at you, having recognised you from the times you and Aizawa have picked up takeaway, and you shuffled into the back room, dimly lit, private, and pungently smelling of broth.
Aizawa’s surrounded by the half of the class already present—Mina’s showing him a video of a dance she taught primary school kids; Kirishima, hair ungelled and loose around his shoulders, was asking for advice about perpetually split fingernails; Asui’s handing him a juice box with the straw already popped in.
When Aizawa wrapped his lips around the straw, he locked eyes with you, dance routine video playing on without an audience. He’s looking painfully handsome in a black turtleneck and long coat with his hair pulled back, and he only got prettier when he gave you some semblance of a smile: more around the eyes than the mouth.
The moment was broken when Kaminari slammed into Aizawa in a hug, knocking him off balance, so you were grinning when you neared him.
Recovering, Aizawa grasped Kaminari’s shoulders. “Put someone in your own agency as your emergency contact.”
“But Daaaaad,” said Kaminari, his whine eliciting a few giggles from Yaoyorozu and Jirou, “You’re gonna take care of it better than anyone else.”
“I am no longer your professor and am therefore exempt from responsibility. The last two times I was called during class,” said Aizawa, setting his juice box on a booth’s table, “It’s nearly impossible to find a substitute at the last second.”
“But you did.” Kaminari shoots him a double thumbs-up. “You’re the best, but sure, I’ll add someone else to the list.”
“Ooh, during class—there is a new Class A that you’re latched to,” Mina said, turning off her phone and stowing it, “They’re not as cool as we are, right?”
“They’re certainly less trouble, at the very least,” said Aizawa, and he glanced over the former students who had arrived. “Why don’t you work on pushing the tables together?”
They scattered. You stayed.
The ache lessened now that you were near him.
You bit your lip. “Is it okay to hug—”
“C’mere,” he said, and you did, wrapping your arms around his neck and inhaling deeply the scents of pine and sandalwood. You had to step out of his embrace hastily, since anyone could notice something off, but the soulmate warmth had flooded your system like a sugar rush, especially with the observation that he’d pulled you close by your waist, as opposed to when he’d gawkily hugged Kaminari around his shoulders.
You stepped out of his personal space, clasping your hands behind your back. “I know I’ve said it a lot, but you smell incredible.”
“Thank you,” said Aizawa, picking up his juice box, “The shampoo you’re using is particularly nice, too.”
“Thanks,” you said while he slurped, “Is Eri doing okay?”
“She’s doing well. She misses you,” he said, and after a beat, he smirked. “She wants you to bring Dango the next time you shift.”
You sucked in through your teeth. “Ah, ha, you know who Dango is?”
Aizawa was really and truly smiling now, eyes half-lidded and soft. “Eri told me about how you would bring Dango over to play with her and Konpeito. I’ve known from the start.”
“I can’t believe I now have beef with a primary schooler,” you said, “She promised not to tell.”
“She also didn’t seem to understand why you couldn’t bring Dango during a shift,” said Aizawa, leaning back on the table and tilting his head, “You’ve been leaving before she even gets up. Does your work at Sakura Grove start earlier than regular businesses? It’s a long commute, sure, but you leave earlier than it takes to be on time. I’d told you to stick around, if you wanted. You seem to have forgotten that since you graduated.”
“Oh.” You stared blankly, and you blinked. To fill time, you joined him in leaning against the booth table, the hands between the two of you almost touching. “I, uh. Huh.”
Aizawa leant closer to your ear, a strand of his loose hair tickling your skin. He spoke quietly, in that infuriatingly rumbly voice of his. “If you’re distracting yourself by overworking, I advise you to ease up.” The tips of his fingers grazed yours, exploding in pink. “You haven’t been answering my calls; you’ve been sneaking out in the morning. Midnight called me to ask if you were all right, and it was shameful that I couldn’t answer her.” Your jaw quivered at the brush of his hot breath against your skin, but if he noticed (and he probably did, that perceptive bastard), he didn’t say anything. “If you work yourself to the bone, you won’t be any good at your job, and you won’t grow. You don’t have to push yourself. You don’t have to prove yourself. Stop rushing. Take your time.” He leant back, sitting upright. “Linger when you shift to me.”
You tapped your pink fingers on the table; it was a relief seeing the mark, instead of just knowing it’s behind your ear. He’d been rather close rather quickly, saying all of these caring, helpful things with an undertone of innuendo, and it was a lot for you after the long dry spell, so there wasn’t anything left in your brain besides looking up at him full of yearning and saying, point-blank, “I’m in love with you.”
Aizawa kept soft eyes on you while covering your hand with his, clumsily lacing fingers together. “I know.”
Your friends erupted in a wild cheer when the last stragglers, Bakugou and Midoriya, finally pushed their way through the double curtains, with Midoriya waving brightly as he joined them and Bakugou ducking his head and averting his gaze.
You jumped out of your skin at the noise and placed a hand over your heart when you realised what it was—and Aizawa was fucking laughing at you. His fingers curled more tightly into yours while he covered his mouth with his other hand, unable to conceal a terrible sort of wheezing laugh and a wide grin.
He’s beautiful.
Tempted to ask if he were having an asthma attack, you instead pouted, pursing your lips. “Hey, you know that when you’re doing hero work at night, you have to be alert for any sort of unusual sound—”
“Correct,” said Aizawa, trying to reel himself in, “but you may want to work on having a work mode and relaxation mode, with clear boundaries. If you’re on guard all of the time, it drains your energy. I’d like you to have the space to live.”
Jirou called the two of you over now that everyone was present. Aizawa stopped you from joining your friends at the end of the table, subtly pointing at the chair beside him.
Knowing that everyone would want to catch up, Aizawa announced he’d be waiting until after their food arrived for the debriefing. While you talked with Shinsou, seated at your other side, Aizawa examined the menu but ordered the same thing he always did.
Aizawa ate his ramen faster than normal and pulled a manilla file from his long coat, quieting most of the table with the gesture—it reminded you how careful you have to be in your actions, your inflections, because all of these people instinctively paid attention to him.
“You all have been split into sub-teams based on the size and structure of each Paranormal Liberation Front base and your individual abilities to infiltrate them. The majority of you are going to Tokyo, but to those going to less urban locations, your job is just as important in quashing extremists.” He passed the file to Midoriya, on his right. “Take the envelope with your name and a moment to read it before getting in your group. No, Iida,” Aizawa said before Iida could gesture more, “Midoriya is only involved in the planning stage. As he and Bakugou are the most well-known by the public, they will be staying here to maintain a sense of normalcy.”
Shinsou handed the file to you, and you took the last envelope while Midoriya took over explaining to the table. With Aizawa watching you in his periphery, you ripped open your envelope.
Hero commission stationery. Cute. Secrecy of mission, dedication of self…You’re going to Tokyo. Great, you’ll have to burn your city-grimed clothes at the end of each day.
“Who assigned these teams?” you whispered to Aizawa.
He finished his bite of noodle, swallowed thickly, and tucked loose hair behind his ear. “I did.”
You narrowed your eyes. “My team is you.”
“It’s only logical,” he said with a sly smile as he reached for his drink. “Keep reading.”
You scanned the rest, the soulmate trope signal growing in your gut. “Since when does the PLF have connection with the yakuza?”
“Since the families in opposition to Chisaki bolstered their defences against heroes. Keep going.”
Your heart dropped into your stomach. “Their headquarters is in a club?”
“Beneath it,” said Aizawa, and under the table, his knee nudged yours. “So, tell me: what would be the purpose in sending two underground heroes there?”
You took a deep breath, bouncing your leg. “Heroes specialising in stealth would be trained already in how to infiltrate a place unnoticed. They would be accustomed to reading people, to recognising the details that betray intention. And they’d be less likely to be recognised by their faces. Well, goddamn,” you said, reading over your letter again, “Logical. But again: why am I going to a club? I’ve never been to one and have never wanted to.”
“Because you need to grow.” Aizawa tucked that loose strand into his ponytail. “You’re not at your best in large, social situations. Your crowd work needs to improve.”
“So, you’re sending me to a fucking club—”
“Not sending you,” he said, “I’m coming with you.”
“Pedant,” you grumbled, secretly pleased that you’re rubbing off on him. “Seriously, I don’t know if I can do this.”
Aizawa shook his head. “I do.”
***
You were teeming with envy for your classmates sent to rural PLF bases when five o’clock brought vast hordes of businessmen and freshly released workers onto the train to uptown Tokyo.
You have a firm stance on personal space; you’re not used to touching people or being touched, so you grew more and more visibly flustered as more people packed on. A faint call of the soulmate signal echoed in your gut, and you panicked—is it a romantic cliché to get fucking groped?
But before it can escalate to a true panic attack, Aizawa set his duffel on the floor and reached for your waist—you jumped at his touch but relaxed when you saw it was him. He guided you in front of him, unbuttoned his long coat, and wrapped it around both of you, pulling you back against him with his arms hugging your waist, large hands covering more of your body than you’d imagined. Back against his broad, warm chest. Feeling tucked in under the coat.
Tilting your head back to look at his tired eyes, you mouthed Thank you.
Aizawa nodded, and when you settled into his arms, he rested his chin on the top of your head.
***
The A/C in your hotel room conked out an hour before infiltrating Club Magenta.
“There’s a pin that the yakuza has issued to PLF members for club access,” called Aizawa from the bathroom, the door cracked to let out steam, “It’s a visible marker for who’s safe to confide in, since PLF members haven’t been sworn into the yakuza.”
You pulled the fan chain through its cycle of settings again, and no, that was the highest it could go. “Wait, a pin? Would either of mine look like it from a distance?”
“Unless you’re coincidentally wearing the eye of Horus—” The bathroom door slammed open, steam and light outpouring. “Why are you wearing pins on a mission?”
“It’s to contribute to my I-am-open-and-not-hiding-anything vibes by providing more information about myself than necessary,” you said, kneeling on the bed, crawling off of it, and being slapped with 80 psychic damage at the sight of Aizawa’s clubbing disguise.
How annoying. He’s got on this unbearably irritating all-black ensemble (though that form-fitting button-up peeking out from underneath that stupid leather jacket was more of an ashy-grey-black than straight black), but a flash of his socks revealed neon kittens—if you could get past those funky, leather boots with flowers painted on. He’d shaved away all but a shadow of stubble, and his hair was up in that half-up, half-down bun style that was horribly, horribly attractive.
You had to sit down on the edge of the bed.
Aizawa strode over to you, squinting down at the pins near your left shoulder (the tips of his boots parted your legs where he stood). The expected wave of disappointment washed over his face as he read Good Pussy Gang and experiencing sensory overload—both in pastel, the latter with cartoon frogs.
“What the hell is wrong with you,” said Aizawa, unconsciously edging further between your legs.
“Well, the other options for pins up for borrowing from the girls could imply some things that could turn out badly for me in this situation. There was my sun sign is cocaine, but then what if I were offered cocaine? I don’t wanna do that,” you said, grinning, “And the one that said don’t bully me; I’ll come was a little too close to home, and you’ve taught us to never be that vulnerable about our true selves when undercover. Fuck Nasty wears its joke out quickly. It was tough choosing, though. Runner-up was crab rangoon.”
Narrowing his eyes, Aizawa plucked at the charm on your necklace. “And this, I presume, is the entire clitoral gland?”
“It’s a wishbone,” you said.
He set the charm back against the hollow of your throat. “Figures. Just—just what the hell are you wearing?”
“You’ve seen me in a dress before.” It’s really not that bad: also all-black, long enough to feel safe—but since you’ve been informed you have nice boobs, it’s also got a square-cut neckline to show them the fuck off.
“No, I meant—” Aizawa hooked a finger underneath the leather strap on your shoulder and yanked, pulling you upright and rather close; you laid your hands on his chest to balance yourself (oh, hohohohoho, his chest! You’re successfully touching it).
“That,” you said, biting your lip as his hooked finger ran down the strap from your shoulder to the side of your boob, “is called a harness, Shouta. You seem like the type to know a lot about—”
“Not the point,” he said under his breath, his hands resting at your waist (!!!), just below the leather going across there, thumbs rubbing at your sides. He ran his tongue over his lower lip and then cleared his throat. “Enlighten me. Why do you have a harness?”
(“Because it pushes your boobs up and together, and men are weak,” Mina had said.)
“It’s from Momo’s failed Attack on Titan cosplay,” you said, truthfully, “She got the placement of the horizontal strap wrong. See, it’s supposed to go here.” You drew a line across the tops of your boobs, watching his pupils follow. “But she made it here, under the boobs, like an underbust corset. She was going to throw it out, but I thought it looked good on me.”
He rubbed his thumb over the leather one last time before dropping his hands. “It does,” he said in a sort of croak.
You soared on the high of that croak the entire uber ride to Magenta.
Tinged pale pinks and greens under spotlights, the line outside stretched around the block and into the night. Bit embarrassing how Aizawa’d had to explain ratio to you, and a couple of eavesdropping woo girls thought it was simply adorable that it was your first time in a club and agreed to latch onto you two to be let in. The bouncer talked to Aizawa, not you, but let you pass, stating that first-timers at Magenta need to stay on the first floor unless otherwise invited.
“Can everyone just look and me and tell I’m a virgin?!” you hissed into Aizawa’s ear as you were led down a pitch-black corridor. “How come no one’s talking to any of the other women like that?!”
Harsh drops in the music coming from somewhere shook the walls more and more as you walked farther into the dark, and a heavy, steel door (with a glow-stick around the handle) opened onto a pulsating sardine can of a dance floor coated in way too many people, all writhing and twisting to the beat. The floor sectioned into a panelled grid, with each panel somehow lit from underneath, flashing pinks, greens, and black. The ceiling was similarly gridded but only with white light, from the view below, and you could see the silhouetted footsteps of dancers on the floor above.
Aizawa guided you to an edge booth before going to the bar; you, keeping an eye out for the Magenta pins, camped out and shazam-ed the incomprehensible electro-pop song currently vibrating the chairs away from a nearby table (the table was bolted down, but the chairs weren’t).
When Aizawa slid into the booth with drinks, you dragged him close to you, pressing your face into his shoulder and inhaling deeply. “Thank God,” you said, refreshed by the pine and what was apparently new leather, “Too many people are vaping for me to breathe. And it’s so fucking humid in here.” You popped up, accepting the glass of fancy-as-fuck pink lemonade as he skidded the glass across the table to you (you’d decided ahead of time that you weren’t drinking on the mission tonight). “I’m glad Mina told me not to rely on makeup too much due to the sweat, but fuck, this is kind of awful.”
“Yet the humidity’s from crowds of young people dying to experience this flavour of awfulness,” said Aizawa, the glass of some sort of whisky-based drink eclipsed by his hand (big hand…big hand could hold you…), “Seen anyone interesting so far?”
You cupped your hands around your glass, savouring the cool condensation. “Perhaps. Mostly I’ve been acclimatising myself to my surroundings—”
“Spoken like a true hero and a huge nerd.”
“—and I haven’t seen an eye of Horus pin, or any pin, for that matter, but I’ve seen a couple of people, I think, not dressed for a club leaving through a different door. Just there,” you said, raising your glass in that direction and to your lips. “And I happen to like being a nerd, thank you.”
Aizawa’s knee touched yours under the table when he turned in to speak more quietly. “The bartender was wearing an oversized jacket with pin-holes in the lapel.”
“So, not her jacket. Bartender doesn’t qualify?”
“Suppose she doesn’t have to. Only has to deal with the alcohol and kitchen, not crime. Though the price of their scotch comes close,” said Aizawa, taking a sip—and the chokehold his Adam’s apple has on you when it bobs, yikes. Oof. He leant in closer, his breath grazing your neck, to say, “And trust me, if anyone knows you like being a nerd, it’s your sensei.”
Your life flashed before your eyes (lots of reading, lots of yearning, not enough telling people to shut up). Your face felt tight from suppressing a reaction. “Incidentally, didn’t you say you could handle alcohol well?”
“Correct,” he said, smugly taking another swallow, and the soulmate signal erupted in your gut.
Not…the greatest sign.
“If you’re going to try to harass me about how well I can hold my liquor, which is perfectly well, then allow me to make another extrapolation about you.”
You nervously took another swig of your lemonade. “Go ahead.”
No mercy in his expression. “You have a book in your purse, don’t you?”
“Well, fuck,” you said, shifting in your seat, “Is my not-like-other-girls complex showing?”
“I don’t know what that means, but since it flusters you, yes.”
You tried to down the rest of your lemonade, but the glass was really big. Whatever. You pushed on the table to stand. “I’m gonna go dance. I have no idea how, but it’ll be a learning experience, right, fuck-o?”
Holding his glass in from of his smile, Aizawa rolled his eyes.
“I’ll see if there’s anyone out there wearing the pin who doesn’t fit a stereotype and get to talking. See if there’s any more exits,” you said, successfully finishing your lemonade this time and slithering out of the booth, “You stay here, being effortlessly, excruciatingly handsome, and watch the flow of traffic, yeah? See if anyone approaches. Is the soulmark in place?” You spun around (with a bit of traction from the beer-soaked floor) and gestured to your ear.
When he didn’t touch you, you faced him again. Eyebrows raised, Aizawa was frozen, his glass an inch from his lips.
“You think I’m handsome?”
“Is that what you’re focusing on? C’mon, Sho, you’re the most beautiful creature alive, and you know it. I wanted to drop dead when you walked out in your slutty little outfit earlier. You’re playing to my exact weaknesses, you cunning little fuckslut. I already want to quit the mission and make out with you, but I know you won’t allow that, so let’s get the ball rolling so we can finish, yeah?”
He set his glass down with a loud clink. “Right.” He ran his tongue over his lower lip. “Let me fix your soulmark.”
After that, you fucked off onto the dance floor, a bit discombobulated from the nearly-strobe-but-not-quite lights from the floor panels, but you guess the advantage would be if anyone saw you embarrassing yourself, they wouldn’t be able to get a good look at you.
Dancing was out of your comfort zone, but making people laugh? All too easy. All you had to do was compliment a woman on her heart-shaped nipple stickers, and she invited you over to her friends’ dance group. You elected to lean into the everyone-can-tell-this-is-my-first-time-in-a-club bit, and by being honest and awkward within the boundaries of your mission persona, the more experienced club-goers delighted in teaching you some basic club dance moves.
Yes, the music throbbed through your skull as you pulled questionable moves in a dense, sweaty pack of bodies—but hey, your mission persona’s new bestie said that everyone besides professional dancers fake knowing how to dance, so you do you, girl. Besides, Haru was fishing out her phone to show you pictures of her cat, and Kisa was shouting over the music the premise of her PhD dissertation that she was defending next month (she invited you to the defence, and though you won’t have any good questions about the usage of prosthetic limbs as moral denotation in English Victorian literature, you genuinely planned on attending).
(No pins, no outsiders, no one not young and exceedingly drunk—)
“I think you’ve got it!” Haru yelled, her features illuminated in pink, “I think that’s all the basic solo moves! Do you know how to grind? Should we move on to grinding?”
Outward shouts of agreement from the group. Internal screaming on your part. How do you say my ass belongs to my stupid soulmate undercover?
All too quickly, Haru introduced you to Kazu, who waved politely and offered an honestly endearing smile, but you were pressed up against him way too quickly, with too many people touching you, with multiple pairs of hands on your hips trying to guide their movement, and hey, is that an eye—
When Aizawa yanked you out of the cluster, you could breathe again.
“Oof, ouch, I’m sorry; we’re sorry, sir. We didn’t know we were swarming her,” Kisa was saying while you were reorienting yourself, “She should be just fine, though! Nothing bad has happened to her since she’s been with us, and until now, it’s just been us girls—”
More of that language. Assuring Aizawa, like you weren’t even there. And, like, these were women! Some of whom were in academia and medicine, and shit, fighting the good feminist fight! Why were they talking about you like you were—
“They think I’m your dom,” Aizawa said as he steered you towards a roomier part of the floor, “They want to ensure you’re not in trouble with me.”
You turned to face him. “Shut up. No, they don’t.”
Aizawa didn’t have to say anything—just let his gaze sink to your harness.
“Oof,” you said, clasping your hands behind your back. Biting the inside of your cheek, you bounced on the balls of your feet, and you met his eyes. “Am I in trouble with you?”
“No,” he said evenly, “but you’re not going to learn to grind on anyone but me.” He closed in on you, body heat mingling, and looked down at you, eyes half-lidded. “Do you seriously not know? Do those books you read teach you nothing?”
Aizawa took mercy on your headshake no, spun you around, and grasped your hips, his thumbs digging into the swell of your ass.
(He’s touching you, and it’s lower on your body; it’s intimate. You need to go lie down to think about this. You can already feel you’ll be processing this touch for a long time—)
Aizawa jerked your ass back against his pelvis, and your brain emptied.
“Now,” he said, his voice low in your ear (though you’re already sweating, a different heat started to build in you), “The first step is to relax. The movement will be smoother if you’re not wracked with tension.”
“How can I relax when you’re—” Realisation seized you like a sailor grasping for a fish flopping around on deck. “You’re drunk, Shouta,” you said, sighing, chest heavy with compassion and disappointment that he wasn’t flirting with you entirely deliberately, and you reached up to cup his face in your hands. “Let’s go back to the booth and wait it out. I’m going to take care of you.”
He snatched your hands away before your fingertips could even turn pink. “No, little girl,” Aizawa hissed, forcing you around and pinning your hips against his, his splayed hand pressing down hard on your lower stomach, “I’m going to take care of you.”
You would like pink lilies at your funeral.
“A step-by-step lesson, since you’ve managed to make it this far being so woefully ignorant. Some people say grinding can be for fun and nothing else, but for you, since you’re with me, grinding is always sensual.” Aizawa took your twitching hands in both of his, and he dragged your hands up your thighs, plucking at the hem of your dress before trailing them up to your waist. “Usually, your goal would be to get me hard. Luckily for you—”
Grunting, Aizawa ground his erection (?!) against you, rolling his hips from top to bottom to make you feel everything from the tip to his balls, putting so much pressure on your hip and stomach that you grew aware of your goddamn hipbones (this man is bringing up your skeleton, among other private, inner things you don’t want to think about, and it’s just a dance).
“—I’m already there. So, you don’t have to worry about any responsibility. You just sit pretty and let your sensei teach you, hm? I know you’re a quick learner. You’ll catch on.”
Aizawa tapped the back of your knees, making you bend them when you flinched, but he motioned for them to stay bent, doing the same himself. “Move your hips to the beat, matching my speed. Some songs call for moving your hips in a figure-eight, but most work better if you’re moving them in a circular motion—”
“Circular how?” you asked, swaying along to the beat just barely, not even realising you were doing it, “Like, are we talking circle on the y-axis or the x-axis?”
Aizawa scoffed into your hair. “Fucking—it’s not that simple; it’s not two-dimensional. It’s,” he said, raising a hand in front of you to make a flattening gesture, “There’s another plane intersecting. Not just the y- and x-axes. God, what is it called when there’s a third—forget it.” He huffed and nuzzled against your neck. “Think of the movement as Saturn’s rings.”
You looked back at him, grinning. “Are you Saturn?”
“Cheeky,” he said, and he directed you to face the front again by sliding his thumb along your jaw, “or should I say brat. Jesus, am I Saturn—no, sweetheart, but I’m losing my patience for you. Pay attention.”
Sweetheart.
Sweetheart.
You have the mental image of popping champagne while Midnight and Ito throw confetti.
You’re almost too overwhelmed by the new and very good and oh? to keep absorbing more information and observing more sensations, but the only way out was through.
So, Aizawa taught you the right way to roll your hips, to adjust to different songs, what to do with your hands, with every point of contact along the way feeling like a lit sparkler, and you’re a light that won’t go out.
Both present and far away, you couldn’t keep it together (maybe you were experiencing sensory overload). Being so close to Aizawa, with him wanting to be near and nearer to you, unfurled a heady thrill up your spine as he slid his hands over your hips and ass and waist, tugging back on the harness when your back strayed too far from his chest. The way your bodies moved together, slowly, sultrily—his hips twitched involuntarily against you.
“Let me look at you.”
Grabbing your chin again, he turned you towards him, and your hands trembled under his as he encouraged you to run them down his chest (half of his features highlighted in a flash of pearl green, he smirked at you when you lost your nerve and broke eye contact, gathering the fabric of his shirt in a frustrated fist before noticing you were grazing his abs and let go). But he kept you close.
Head swimming, you hooked a finger into his belt loop and yanked to close the scant space between you. You found yourself saying nonsense, like your sentences were rice-paper butterflies that couldn’t float off your tongue and into the dark fast enough. “I want to take a nap inside your ribcage. I want and love every part of you, even the ones I don’t know yet, even if you want no part of me. I’m always yours, in every iteration of me, in every timeline, forever. I don’t care if everyone else forgets me or hates me so long as you know me. I’m going to make you pancakes in the morning. I’m going to give you the best blowjob of your life. I’m going to eat you alive. I’m also possibly experiencing sensory overload and may pass out, so we may need to rain-cheque the mission and leave soon.”
Nodding, Aizawa leant in to kiss you.
The music and lights and people faded away, and you were weightless, in freefall, with a spark of yet more heat kindling low in your stomach.
(From there, the details escape you—and that kills you when you look back at this moment, because it’s your first kiss. But you don’t remember if his lips were chapped or how it tasted or sounds, or anything [possibly because of how bombarded your senses had already been], but you remember how he made you feel: like you’ve been exploring an endless garden, searching, and then seeing him when you turn a corner, his back to you as he waters greenery, and how blinding his smile is when he turns to you.)
***
The mission. Right, the mission. Really hard to care about it once you’d kissed Aizawa.
It went fine. You returned to the booth and read aloud from your book to him until he decided he was sober enough to continue, and you’d scouted some pin-wearers and sneaked downstairs. The PLF stragglers split you and Aizawa up during the fight, so it thrilled you to bits when the soulmate bond made Aizawa shift to you when he couldn’t get loose from multiple yakuza holding him down. Good shit.
Nothing happened when you made it back to the hotel, because Aizawa passed the fuck out within a minute of unlocking the door, which was fair.
You’d been summoned to aid Hagakure and Kirishima at a base just outside of Tokyo, so you’d taken care of that and were now driving back home.
(He’d told you he’d rented the car because he didn’t want to risk your feeling overwhelmed on the train again. Magnanimous fucker.)
Unfortunately, most of the car ride had to be spent reporting to a hero commission employee and then listening to the next step of the plan on speakerphone. You found yourself nodding off, despite the hard copy of the mission report in front of you waiting to be filled out.
The hero commission had to hang up abruptly (something something Best Jeanist?), and the second Aizawa hung up the phone, it rang again. Groaning, he answered it, turning on speaker again and replacing it in his cupholder.
“Eraserhead speaking.”
Crying out, you hunched over in the passenger seat, the soulmate signal cutting so suddenly and severely that it was as if your stomach had been sliced open with a blunt knife.
A hand flying to your shoulder, Aizawa slammed on the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road.
“…been trying to reach you all morning,” the voice on the phone was saying (another hero commission employee, from the legal side, it sounded like), “but I haven’t been able to get through.”
Shaking your head, you held up a hand to Aizawa to let him know you were okay, that it would pass. Still, his jaw tensed, and he slid his hand from your shoulder up to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone.
“—because it looks you left some of your financial agreement blank; did you mean to indicate that yes, your wife should be paying child support for Eri?”
Aizawa dropped his hand from your cheek and stared blankly at the phone in the cupholder. “I’m sorry. What?”
“Child support for—”
“No, hold on,” said Aizawa, gesturing and shaking his head even though the other person couldn’t see, “Actually, before we—listen, I don’t have exclusive custody of Eri; she’s under the care of U.A. as an institution. She happens to be near me the most because she bonded with me first. You must have inaccurate—inaccurate information.” He shot a questioning look to you, and you shrugged, excitement bubbling in your gut.
“Allow me a moment?” Mouse clicking was heard. “Okay, well, I’ve got you and your wife’s bank account information pulled up here—”
“When was a quirk incident form for me last processed by your system?”
Aizawa shot you a warning glare while you proceeded to silently lose your shit, clamping a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter. You unbuckled and reached over the console to pepper pink kisses all over a sulking Aizawa’s face while the speaker rattled off an apology for the delay in processing hard copies of paperwork when they’re used to digital, ultimately confirming that due to a mistake in filing and your little jokes on paper, you two have been married for eight months now.
Running your fingers through his hair (sandalwood sandalwood sandalwood), you pressed your forehead to his, and while the speaker was still apologising for the error, you whispered, “I am going to give you the most egregious road head.”
Aizawa laughed through his nose, making a horrible sort of snrking noise, and he slipped his hand over his own mouth to cover the wheeze in his laugh. You kissed the tip of his nose and leant back to your seat after giving his hair a final, gentle tug.
Steeling himself, Aizawa the pink-nosed reindeer cut the hero commission employee off. “I understand, but I’m still in the field right now. Please forgive me, but I’ll have to call you back later.”
The moment you hung up for him, Aizawa let out a loud groan, tilting his head back and sinking down in his seat, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Jesus Christ,” he said over your burst of open laughter, “You got what you wanted, I suppose.”
“Ohhhhh, no,” you said once you got a breath in, “I’m married to the person I love more than anyone, boo hoo. Do you—” A harrowing thought sobered you. “Do you not want this?”
Aizawa peeked from under his hands, and he dropped them to his lap with a sigh. “Well,” he said, sitting upright again and turning the key in the transmission, “It’s certainly not how I wanted to propose.”
Your throat ran dry, and you smiled through it. “Can’t be helped, I guess. Would it make you feel better if we went to pick out rings?” you asked, not quite joking but not quite serious.
You got to see the way his cheeks and ears tinged bright red as he checked behind you to merge into incoming traffic, and he tucked his chin into his scarf, as if he didn’t want to be seen. “The ring’s already at home.”
***
You were to take over teaching Midnight’s classes. Your duties at Sakura Grove would taper off as other employees learnt how to replace the both of you.
You were also to give her eulogy.
As her former student, close friend, and only sidekick, you were the natural choice. You didn’t want to do it, but you knew if someone else did it, they’d fuck it up.
You deliberately didn’t look at anyone in the crowd (students, heroes, and civilians whose lives she’d affected) and instead focused on the clock on the far wall. If you looked Yagi or Yamada in the eyes right now, you’d crumple.
So, you started talking. You have control over the jokes, this way, over the stories, by doing it yourself. You were doing fine, speaking in a disconnected way, until you noticed, for the first time, that Nezu was sitting on a couple of bibles to see over the pew.
For some reason, that made your grief-stricken brain lose the last threads of composure at which you were grappling, and the first fat tear trickled past your waterline.
And you shifted right into Aizawa’s lap, in front of everyone.
His wheelchair was parked on the outside of the second pew (he wasn’t even supposed to be out of the hospital yet and didn’t yet have a prosthetic), so those attending could see the shift without even having to turn their heads much. Gasping, you were straddling/kneeling in Aizawa’s lap with your arms around his neck, his chin almost in your boobs, and he looked just as taken aback as you did.
You ignored it, instead standing, wiping the tear, and continuing where you’d been cut off mid-sentence as you returned to the podium.
You shifted four more times during the course of the eulogy.
So, Midnight celebrated romance even in her death: amidst condolences came the curious congratulations on finding your soulmate.
***
You woke up in his bed.
When the bed creaked and a warm, muscular arm draped over you, there was no scrambling off of each other. No panic. He grumbled something against the back of your neck and tightened his grip around your waist, curling into you.
You woke up in his bed.
“What—why are you leaving?” came Aizawa’s rasping morning voice, his hand emerging from under the covers to grasp your wrist. “S’not daylight yet.”
“I know,” you said, putting a knee back on the bed to lean over him, and you brushed hair out of his face, trails of pink following. “But I can’t go straight to Sakura Grove like this; I need stuff from my flat. One of my replacements starts training today.”
“Mm.” Aizawa blinked blearily up at you, a sleep smile growing as he held your palm to his cheek. “Take some shoes for the commute, at least.”
“I was planning on it. Is my pair of All Might socks still here?”
“Yeah. I washed them,” said Aizawa, and with a grunt, he moved to sit up.
Hands on his chest, you pushed him back down. “No, baby, stay in bed. I’ll get them. You need all the rest you can get.”
You woke up in his bed.
It’s empty, so you followed the scent of coffee into the kitchen, where a shirtless, pink-sweatpants-ed Aizawa stared into a mug with amorphous cats that Eri painted.
“You’re adorable,” you said, opening the cabinet next to him and scanning the mug selection.
The slurp he made was monstrous. “Eri misses you.”
“I miss you, too, Shouta.” You selected a #1 Dad mug from Kirishima, and Aizawa poured the steaming coffee into it for you. “We’ll see each other more when school starts again. The next time the teaching certification test is being offered is late next month, and then I can start orientation here.”
Aizawa nodded, resting his elbow next to you on the counter, grazing your fingers cupped around your mug. “I know you’re still working the fifth district at nights, but is there a chance you could take a leave of absence for this weekend?”
“Hot date?”
He hummed into his coffee. “If only. I’ve got a short mission out of town, and there’s no one I’d trust more to watch Eri.”
You smiled at him, with Konpeito rubbing against your legs. “Of course.”
You woke up in his bed.
“Thank God,” said Aizawa, rolling on top of you and burying his face in your neck.
“It’s only a few more weeks,” you said, wriggling in his hold when his breath tickled you.
“No, I mean—the ring’s finished being resized,” he said, sitting up, “and I’ve been desperate to see it on you.”
Aizawa retrieved the box from his bedside table and slid it on your finger: white gold with an emerald embedded, all strategically designed not to catch on anything—made with your hero work in mind.
You wiggled the fingers on your left hand, the emerald catching the morning light. “I’m going to throw up. It’s gorgeous.”
“Hold your nausea for when you hear Hizashi’s latest ideas for our ceremony.”
“Oh, fuck,” you said, plopping back down onto the pillow, “Does he not understand simplicity? Or not being a fucking tool?” When Aizawa shook his head, grinning down at you, you lifted your hand to run your thumb over his lower lip, and his tongue darted out to meet it. “All right, my love. Lay it on me.”
You woke up in his bed.
Dango had jumped on you and meowed loudly, because she didn’t understand that the feeding schedule was a little different now that she lived in Aizawa’s apartment.
(Dango had pre-emptively moved in before you, because the sooner Dango and Konpeito bond, the better. Eri got so upset when they play-fought.)
You woke up in his bed.
“Shouta,” you said, rolling over towards the lit lamp, “What are you doing up already?”
He crossed out something in red ink. “I’m reworking some of the written tests for my new curriculum. I meant to do it last night but went to bed early instead, and I’d rather do it now than this evening.” Aizawa slid his glasses down his nose, his good eye glinting at you playfully. “Nothing’s come up? You can still come over tonight?”
“Yeah,” you said, scooting over to feel his body heat, “I haven’t seen Shinsou in so long, either, so I’m glad he’s coming over to dinner, too. You aren’t going to keep him busy long, right?”
“We’re setting up the room at the end of the hall for a new tenant, so we should be done by the time you get here.” Aizawa rolled his shoulders back before setting his papers to the side, and he folded his glasses to set them atop them. “What, are you planning something with him to get back at me?”
“Nah,” you said, rustling the sheets as you sat up, “I just need his phone at some point. It’s really fucking weird that my best friend is my soulmate’s, like, ward-mentee, because Shinsou’s got my contact name as Mommy. With a little heart.”
Wincing, Aizawa guided you into his lap, his hands light on your waist.
“I’ve got to change it back to my name,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck to sink into a hug. You pressed your lips against his neck—not really a kiss, but more of just resting them there. “Who’s moving into the room at the end of the hall?”
Kissing the side of your head, Aizawa stroked your back through your sleepshirt, his fingertips trailing heat down your spine. “Well,” he said, his voice morning-gravelly, “Let’s say it’s another ward-mentee. U.A. wants me in charge. You’ll see.” You felt him smile against your ear, and he kissed it before biting the cartilage gently. “When are you moving in?”
“School starts next Wednesday,” you said, “so how does this weekend sound?”
You woke up in the bed you shared with Aizawa, slammed the alarm clock off, and flipped back over, spooning Aizawa with your nose smushed between his shoulder blades. He laced his fingers back through yours and kept them over his heart.
***
On a weeknight two weeks into the school year, you’re dangling your legs off the top of a water tower, forehead pressed against the railing, watching cars pass under streetlights below.
Being a teacher was tough. Being a teacher and an underground pro-hero at night was tougher. You now understood Aizawa’s need to carry a sleeping bag around. You hadn’t caved and done the same, but you kept a pillow at your cubicle in the faculty lounge because it was just too damn hard to stay awake during your off period.
(At least things with Sakura Grove were wrapping up. You’d stay in their contacts as a consultant, especially for Ito, but you didn’t have to go there anymore. Sad that that part of your life was ending, but it scooted over on the couch for new beginnings.)
You’re dancing around the point: because of your endless exhaustion and the difference in your and Aizawa’s schedules, you’re still a goddamn virgin. It’s stupid as fuck. The longer you put it off (which you’re not even doing intentionally!), the more of a stressful event it’s going to be.
“Sleeping on the job?”
You jolted awake, cold indent of the railing cutting into your forehead, and your head whipped around in search of him. “Dozing,” you said, tilting your head back far enough to watch Aizawa slide down from his crouch atop the water tower, “Too shallow to be real sleep. You don’t even get to R.E.M.”
“All of that to say that you want to go home,” said Aizawa, and he nestled up behind you, placing his legs on either side of yours and wrapping his arms around your waist to pull your back to his chest. He pressed his cold nose to your neck (you yelped) while the ends of his capture weapon trailed onto your lap.
“I guess, but I only have about half an hour more of my patrol,” you said, covering one of his hands with yours (pink didn’t blossom there, probably because he kept brushing his lips where your neck met your shoulder), “I can wait it out.”
“Mm, if you say so. Right now, I’d rather have you in bed. I miss you too much.” He inhaled deeply before placing one final kiss behind your ear and said, “I have something for you.” He took a moment to riffle through the pouches on his utility belt, and your heart dropped into your stomach when he reached around you to retrieve the knife hidden in your boot (oh, my God, the intimacy of knowing where on your body you kept your weapons). Aizawa brought his arms around your waist again, this time with a brown-sugar-coated pear in a brown paper sleeve cupped in one hand, the other cutting into the soft flesh of the pear.
He held the blade to your lips, which you closed around the slice of pear, the brown sugar grains melting on your tongue. He fed you another slice before cutting one for himself.
The pains and care he took for you compounded and curled on your chest like an overweight cat, and you cracked in half: you started fucking crying.
As soon as the first tear track shone under the streetlights, Aizawa, brow furrowed, turned your chin towards him (you automatically took the pear and knife to hold them in your lap).
“What’s—”
Taking in your weak, shaky smile, he took on one himself. “I see.” Aizawa finger-combed some of your hair out of your face and rested his curled fingers at the roots of your hair at the back of your neck. “Still,” he said, swiping away a fresh tear with his thumb, “I can’t have that—not my pretty girl crying.”
No matter how thoroughly he dried your face, it didn’t matter: it started raining on the way home. Both of you were soaked, grinning as you scanned into U.A. under the torrential rain funnelled from the awning where faculty entered, dripping onto the floor when you checked in on Eri for the night (All Might had put her to sleep earlier), and just fucking dropping your wet hero support items to the tile in the kitchen, your shit tangled up in his capture weapon and knocking against his goggles.
A low rumble of thunder shook the windowpanes as Aizawa kissed you, opening his mouth before you even kissed back, the edge of the kitchen counter smarting against the small of your back while you breathed in your soulmate in the dark.
Parting to breathe, you managed a grin as a flash of lightning illuminated his ruddy cheeks and soulmate-pink lips. “I feel like if I go to bed tonight, I’m going to die in my sleep,” you said, panting.
“Good thing sleep’s not on the agenda,” said Aizawa, and his lips seared into yours (fucking peach chapstick, you were of sound mind enough to note) as he fumbled for the zipper on the back of your wet costume.
It plopped with a squelch to the floor, and the chill of the A/C sweeping over your bare skin made you huddle into Aizawa’s chest—but you swore and flinched away, since his body temperature didn’t really help with how wet his clothes were.
Scowling, you kneed him away and rubbed your hands up and down your arms. “Take this off,” you said, plucking at his jumpsuit, “It’s fucking frigid in here.”
Lightning lit his smirk this time, and Aizawa started undressing, the sodden splat of his socks hitting the tile first.
“You gonna let me wear your clothes this time, pretty boy?” Watching him strip, you shivered for more than one reason. “Last time, you only gave me towels.”
Aizawa scoffed. “That’s because if I’d had to see you wear my clothes, you wouldn’t’ve made it farther than the bedroom.” His jumpsuit made a weird noise, and he fished his utility belt out of the belt loops to set it on the counter.
When you gestured towards his boxer-briefs, he shook his head. “Not yet. Yes, they’re cold, but I want to focus on you right now. Leave your underwear on, but go ahead and leave your wet hero costume in here. They can drain in the sink,” he said, tossing his socks in.
“Okay,” you said, doing the same, “but please at least change into dry boxers, or something—”
“I will,” he said, undoing the rest of the buttons on your pants once you’d done the first, and he fucking lifted you onto the counter, kissing you, to drag them down your legs before putting them in the sink. “You with me?”
You nodded and pulled him in for a hug—skin still slick-moist but warmer now that body heat mingled together, and his breath heated your neck while he sucked a wet mark onto it. “I’m with you, Shouta. I love you.”
Grunting against your throat, Aizawa hugged you tighter. “Oh, I love you, too, sweet girl. So much.”
He eased you down off the counter, and you flinched again at the cold. “Oof, ah, I have to get out of this wet fucking bra; it’s too fucking cold in—”
“Want me to go adjust the thermostat?”
“No, it’s fine; it’s fun. I just,” you said, kissing his shoulder on impulse, “need you.”
His eyes fell to half-lidded, and a roll of thunder nearly masked his low chuckle. “All right, then. If you’re sure.”
Aizawa led you to the bedroom, hardly space between the two of you while running his hands over your arms and waist to generate heat, his voice rasping in your ear the whole way (so much louder than the constant sound of raindrops assaulting the windows as the wind picked up). “That time you shifted into my shower—the image of you is burned into my brain,” he was saying, nudging the bedroom door shut with his foot so his hands wouldn’t have to leave you, “You were so confused but keen to do what I said. I was trying so hard to be good, noble, like you said, but the part that stings above all is that I liked the handprint on your back. I liked having my mark on you, on display, in such a large way that anybody could see. Killed me to have to cover you up. Lights on?”
“Let me open the curtains instead,” you said.
“Good. I’ll change into dry underwear so that you don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Don’t look,” he said, releasing you from his hold.
You drew back the first set of curtains and fiddled with the pullstrings to raise the blinds. “Are you telling me you beat yourself up-slash-off about the way you thought about me?” you asked, smiling at your own dumb joke, “I get it. I do, but c’mon, baby. You’ve made a home in my heart and in my own damn blood. What’s the shifting into your bed while I’m dreaming been besides my body calling out to you?” Oh, fuck yes, the blinds went all the way up this time. You crossed to the second window. “What’s my—hey, nice ass. Very cute.”
The elastic waistband snapped in that final rush to pull them up. “I told you not to look,” said Aizawa, frowning as he joined you in tying away the opposite curtain, “Are you really gonna be a brat this early in the—” He cut himself off, slapping a palm over his eyes as he stepped back from you (successfully raising these blinds on the first try!). “No. No, I shouldn’t. Not for your first time.”
Closing the distance, you took the hand over his eyes and held it against your cheek. “You could a little.”
His thumb loosed itself from your fingers, falling to your mouth, and you kissed it, parting your lips to lick the pad just barely.
He swallowed visibly. “Get on the bed.”
You did, and you wormed your arms around your back to unhook your wet bra (fucking frigid half-dried in the A/C, plus you were betting the feeling of your nipples grazing his chest was fucking stellar), whipping it off the bed before he could even join you.
“Notice I didn’t say you could do that,” Aizawa said, laughing through his nose, one knee on the bed. “But that’s all right for now. I like how vulnerable you look, how needy, how—” Aizawa crawled over you, eclipsing you. “—how out of touch with anything but me.”
His lips were warm, soft (peachy), and more consuming than when you’d met them earlier that night, and when his tongue brushed the roof of your mouth, he secured an arm around your back to arch you closer to him, boobs pushing into his chest and held like you’re something precious.
“I’m sure you know this,” Aizawa said, thumbing into your mouth and dragging the spit down your neck (cooling in the night air), “but you have absolutely perfect breasts. Whenever I’ve felt them against me before, I’ve gone fucking crazy—and now I get to—” He kissed you again, giving a firm, final bite to your lower lip (smiling when you tried to suck his tongue back into your mouth but shaking you off anyway), before pulling back to look at you, his wet thumb trailing down between your boobs and then circling up around one of them, pausing when you tensed up before he touched your nipple.
His eyes were dark when he glanced up at you again. “Do you trust me?”
“With everything I’ve got,” you said, feeling your heartbeat pulse in your lips now that the pressure of his was gone.
With a wry grin, Aizawa tilted his head. “Yet you’re not relaxed. I’d say you’re a bundle of nerves, but…” His eyes flicked down towards your crotch, and you rolled your eyes at the dumb clitoris joke (hell, yeah! You’re rubbing off on him).
“I’m trying; I thought was I doing good so far—”
“You are. But let me give you a little task so that you’re not concentrating on feeling nervous, yes? One you can handle.” He kissed your cheek and waited for your minute nod before continuing. “I want you to keep your hands by your head,” he said, moving them on the pillow where he wanted them, “You’re not allowed to move them. I get the feeling you’d like them to be tied there, but we’ll save that for another time, yes?”
You arched up to meet his lips, and he let you, moving his against yours, letting your tongue cross into his mouth before breaking away again.
“Good. You’re so good for me, and sweet. And another thing,” said Aizawa, squeezing your wrists to draw your attention back to them, “I want these hands open. Palms up. You’re not allowed to make a fist, sweetheart.” At your baffled expression, he kissed the corner of your mouth. “Just an extra challenge, but I know you can do it.”
You huffed, pouting (and he laughed over it, that horribly endearing, wheezing laugh). “Sure. Yeah. You want me to relax, so you give me what suspiciously sounds like a test. And wow, we know that I have some sort of stupid complex about being the best and getting the approval—”
“And you can get it so easily, should you do this well enough for me.” He shuffled down your body a bit, fingers sketching around your nipples before squeezing your boobs (crazy insane maniacal ridiculous how his hands cupped them perfectly…).
“Oh, you’re evil,” you said, shaking your head.
“You have no idea,” said Aizawa before he wrapped his lips around your nipple, tongue flicking and swirling around it, languidly, heavy with saliva—careful, dark eyes scanning every reaction from you.
Jumping at the contact—but no, don’t bend your fingers even a little. Flat. Flat against the pillow, where he put them. Okay. Okay, we’ve got a handle on it. The initial shock was just—
“Fuck!”
(No, no—keep them against the pillow; sink them into the down if you have to—)
Aizawa’s teeth had ever so lightly grazed you, and his smug little laugh through his nose burned you up inside, so you refused to look at him. Though anger wasn’t the only reason for heat: it was starting to coil in your lower stomach, too, spreading as your thighs clenched—oh, yeah, you have legs, so you rubbed your thighs together in what was hopefully way he wouldn’t notice (but fuck all if he noticed, though, because at the rate your breath was hitching and how frequently you were twisting away from his mouth, any shred of your remaining pride would be crumpling into nothing before he even made you—)
You were writhing, arching your back, eyes scrunched shut, at the moment Aizawa both closed his lips around your other nipple and pinched the first one, and he kept at it, circling it with his tongue as you came back down, stilling.
“Holy shit,” he said, eyebrow raised, pulling his mouth away with a wet puck, “Are you getting off already?”
Aizawa was reaching for your face, but (there’s a split second where you wanted to bury your face in your hands, but the man liked his technicalities) you screwed your eyes closed again and hid yourself to the side in the pillow. “I’m sorry I’m such a stupid virgin who gets worked up easily. I didn’t mean to upset—”
“No, no, no—open your eyes, darling,” he said, hands cupping your face, wiping away the tiny bit of sweat that’d broken out at your hairline, “You’re fine. You’re perfect. There’s nothing to apologise for. Open your eyes. There. That’s my good girl. Thank you.”
You, biting the inside of your cheek and scowling, dug your head out of the pillow to face him, but you kept your eyes averted, still not looking at him.
(Unfortunately, you were not immune to good girl.)
“I’m not upset. How could I, when I know my pretty little wife is feeling so good?” Aizawa pecked your forehead. “You’re just more sensitive than I anticipated. And that’s good. That’s fine. That’s fun for me.”
“Oh, my God,” you said, wincing, trying to sink farther into the pillow to get away from this beautiful man, “You’ve got to shut the fuck up. You keep hitting me with these lines that knock it out of the park. It’s too much.”
Thunder shook the windows, the bedframe rattling with it.
He grinned, and you wanted to punch him. “Is that so?”
“Shut up, holy fucking shit. Just fuck me already.”
And Aizawa was frowning. “Are you—I don’t think you’re ready enough—”
“Oh, come off of it,” you said, gritting your teeth and averting your gaze again, “I’ve already come once, and you’re so overwhelming that I’m going to pass the fuck out just from you talking. I don’t care if I come again; I just wanna get this o—just penetrate me, I guess.”
Scowling. Scowling now. Grimacing, even. “You don’t really want me to do that.”
“Yes, I fucking—”
“You’re not wet enough,” he said with a growl. “Yes, you’ve orgasmed, but you’re not ready for me.”
“You can’t be that—”
“I am,” said Aizawa, a hand sliding down his stomach (holy shit, he’s got muscles) to hook into his waistband, snapping it, “above average, sweetheart.” When he said the word, his voice teemed with scathing condescension, and your stomach dropped. “When I say you’re not ready, I know you aren’t.”
Your cheeks began to feel blotchy, but you weren’t going to cry. “Would you—please—try? I think I might be overwhelmed already, and I want you to feel good.”
Aizawa sighed, and he crawled back over you, reaching towards your hands flat on the pillows to lace his fingers between yours. “It’s not about me right now. We’re focusing on you, baby.”
You lifted your cheek, leaning into the kisses he was pressing onto it. “I know,” you said quietly, “but I think I would feel good knowing you feel good, so, ish, in a fucked-up way—would you try? Please?”
His lips met yours again, just briefly, and he said, “Okay. If you hurt, we’re stopping.”
“Well, hey, that’s pretty much guaranteeing that we’re—”
He cut you off with an exasperated look while he tossed his underwear off to the side, not bothering to unhitch his prosthetic leg.
Aizawa was pushing into you, beginning to stretch you open on his cock, and he’s only gone just barely what could be considered shallow, not much more than a squeeze around the swollen tip of his cock, and you’re clenching down around him, clamping down tight, and you didn’t even notice your eyes stinging with tears for the strain in your cunt.
But Aizawa did. He pulled out before they overflowed down your face, and he’s kissing them away in apology. “We can stop here. I won’t mind. You’ve already done so, so well for me. Thank you for trusting me.”
After a bit, you managed to get a hold of yourself, and you moved to—well. That first, you supposed. “Shouta,” you said, wiggling your fingers interlocked with his on the pillow, “may I move my hands? I’d like to touch you. Just a bit.”
“Go ahead.” He released them.
You placed your palms on his tits/pecs and instantly felt better (not cured, or anything. But definitely better). “Okay,” you said, scratching him gently, “I’ve had a moment. I’m not as overwhelmed anymore. Fuck you for being right about—about wetness.”
“Thank you,” he said, similarly scratching your head while sliding a calloused hand to your waist.
“Listen, Sho. I was scared that if I didn’t make you try to get in me then, you’d try to make me come again beforehand, and I’m scared that I’m gonna pass the fuck out if I have three orgasms as good as the first one you gave me.”
“Sweetheart, you don’t have to come if I eat you out, even though I’d like you to,” said Aizawa, smiling at the way your eyes fluttered when he scratched a certain spot, “I can simply go down on you to stretch you out. Everything’s fine. All that’s happened is that you’ve come earlier than expected—which, I assure you, was fucking hot—and now you need different preparation to take me. You’re fine. We can stop here, or—”
“Would you be cool with going down on me?” You bit the inside of your cheek and averted your gaze again. “Or, or, actually, you don’t have to do that. You can just—”
“You’ve got to stop overthinking, baby,” said Aizawa, grabbing your chin to kiss you again, which he did deeply and so hard that he was gasping when he broke away, “because I have been breaking myself over the thought of tasting you. I’ve been—please don’t think that I don’t want any part of you, because I want even the things you don’t like about yourself. Whatever you want, I also want, enthusiastically and desperately. This soulmate shit has reduced me to freshly popped edamame whenever I—”
Aizawa cut himself off at your laughter, sitting back on your hips and crossing his arms.
“Oh, babe, Shouta, that’s,” you said, grasping at his hands to drag him over you again, “I appreciate the effort. I do, really. But that’s a bad metaphor. Doesn’t fit the tone of the situation. Plus, I would argue that edamame bursts instead of pops. It’s a bean, not a pea.”
His ears were tinged red. “Whatever it takes for you to laugh again, you fucking pedant,” he grumbled against your neck, and his fingers trailed between your boobs and down your stomach, took a moment to curl into your pubic hair (tugging), and sliding between your folds, spreading what wetness was already there.
You eased your laughter to a smile, and you plopped your hands, palms up, on either side of your head again. “So, are you gonna make me wet or not, Shouta?”
“And you say I’m evil,” said Aizawa, grinning and shaking his head, and after another kiss, he slithered down your body, kissing and licking as he went, eyes dark and fixed on yours (his good one, anyway), even as he spread you and pressed his lips to your clit for the first time.
He’s right. He’s right. He’s always right: the task of keeping your hands flat and in one place distracted you from getting worried about how you looked or tasted or whatever, and you were laughing at yourself for how hard you were finding it to keep from forming a fist—but that’s the impulse, apparently, when the goddamn love of your life is sticking his tongue as far as he can go into your cunt and moaning like a whore about it in that stupid fucking rumbling way.
“Sweet girl,” he was saying as he licked the inside of your thigh, his scruff scrabbling pleasantly against your skin, “Are you with me? You look a little unfocused.”
You shook yourself and glanced down at him. “I’m good—”
“You are.”
“I mean, I’m with you,” you said, heat flooding your cheeks the fastest it ever has. “You’re very good. As well.”
“Is it all right for me to add a finger into this? All right, sweetness, relax,” said Aizawa, and he dragged his middle finger over your clit, circling it before drawing it back up, this time knuckle-side down, and it’s that finger that first slid into you with a soft wet noise—barely there, but still audible—and dragged and pressed inside you, aimlessly feeling you out, totally unrushed.
Your own fingers strained to lie flat.
After more licking and prodding, he added his index, and the suction on your clit lent a distraction from the stretch when he parted his fingers inside you, though there’s a soft wince from you, regardless. Under your assurances, Aizawa continued, working more space between his fingers though you clenched around him, and the third made your stomach burn, your hips chasing his fingers as your insides wound tight. He’s kissing and sucking your clit, keeping watch over your expression and the growing squelching and spasming of your cunt, and you, a bit dizzy, whimpered without meaning to when he started to pump his fingers in and out of you. You felt his smug grin against you as it reformed into a pucker to give your clit a particularly harsh suck, and you’re falling apart just a little, but it’s cool, it’s fine, and you found yourself coming, again, but this time it’s gentle, a smaller crest, under the careful watch and tongue of your husband—and when he slowly withdrew his fingers, your cunt complained the whole way, leaking and squelching around them.
The smug-as-shit bastard waved his fingers towards you, strands of arousal connecting them and seeping down into his palm. “If you want a taste, this is all you’re getting,” he said, touching your lips for barely a second, “because the rest is mine.”
Your head emptied at the way his tongue slathered the rest of it up, sliding between his fingers.
“I believe you’re wet enough for me to fit,” said Aizawa, still licking at his fingers.
“Hold up! I didn’t get to see you earlier,” you said, sitting up, “Do whatever. I need to see your cock.”
And you immediately saw red, because this motherfucker? Stupid. Stupid as hell. Stupid and hell and handsome and above average, my ass. You were insane for not wanting to prep much earlier. You’d gotten some of what he looked like when Serendipity’s quirk was affecting him, but you’re going to die. You’re going to die and then be able to talk to Midnight about her friend’s cock (too soon? You shook it off), because he’s infuriatingly pretty, and it just isn’t fair.
Jolting, your hand flew to his wrist when he thumbed over your clit again, circling it.
“You told me to do whatever,” said Aizawa, nudging your thighs a little wider apart.
You shot him a look before returning to trying to fucking grasp (figuratively) his cock. You’re shaking your head at it, sucking in through your teeth. It’s fucking stupid—tilting a bit to the right, a little veiny (artery-y?), flushed a dark pink at the tip, and absolutely fucking weeping for you, cum dripping for the first time onto your thigh and the mattress.
Your hand darted out, hesitating, to touch the trail of dark hair on his abs leading to his cock, and once your ring finger grazed half of that maddening v, you retreated, scooting back an inch or two on the bed as you jerked at his brushing against your clit.
Aizawa raised an eyebrow when you looked up at him, wet fingers stilling.
“I’m going to kill you,” you said on impulse, wide-eyed.
Aizawa opened his mouth and closed it again. He blinked and after a beat, said, “All right. Not the most encouraging thing to hear in reaction to my dick.”
“Yikes. I mean,” you said, cringing and biting your lip, “Maybe you’d ought to prep me more?”
At the very least, you’d expected a burst of laughter from him, but to make matters worse, he took you seriously.
“Noted,” he was saying, kneeling again to put his mouth on your clit, “When I was feeling around inside you, I was thinking that I’d have to work to open you up to take me. You have such a tiny little cunt—”
“Oh, my God, never mind,” you said, burying your face in your hands, “You’re a menace. I’m leaving. I’m leaving forever.”
Laughing to himself, Aizawa peppered kisses over the backs of your hands. “I’m only joking, love. I said it to fluster you.” His hand cupped you, fingers rubbing in slick while you kept spasming every few seconds. “I know you’re ready to take me,” he said, and (your life began and ended in a second), he started slid his cock up and down your folds (swollen from coming twice already), covering it with your slick and dripping pre-cum onto you.
When a choked noise escaped your throat the first time his cockhead caught on your clit, you clapped a hand over your mouth, horrified, but a gently smiling Aizawa released his grip on one of your shaking thighs to uncover your mouth, with his smile twisting into something darker when he put your hands flat on the pillow again.
“Oh, you are the worst.”
“It’s just for a minute more. Then you can touch me. I promise,” he said, watching the way your cunt was trembling erratically when he wasn’t even inside, “You’re probably gonna come the moment I get seated inside you, yeah? Look at you twitch.”
Adjusting your legs around his waist, Aizawa took your hands in his as he pushed in, breaking you open with slow, gentle thrusts. “Easy,” he said, when you grappled with his hands, almost thrashing, to squeeze them harder, “Easy, sweet girl. I’ve got you.”
Lightheaded.
And very, very warm.
You might be holding back tears. You’re not sure.
But you’re certain you’re taking deep breaths, as instructed, and you shook your hands out of his to wrap your arms around his chest, to feel him close and warm and over all of you, grabbing at him blindly to hold more (a small voice in the back of your head hoped you were scratching him up).
Aizawa struggled to breathe as well, but he gritted his teeth, his face and heaving chest fucking flushed. His hands shook as they travelled down to your waist, unable to still your shuddering hips underneath him. “And here I thought you were soft all over,” he grunted out, “Turns out that you’re softest inside. Fuck.” He screwed his eyes shut. “My lovely little wife. My soulmate.” Aizawa carefully exhaled before opening his eyes again. “Is it okay if I move a bit more?”
At your nod, he rolled his hips shallowly, keeping a careful watch on your face for any minor reactions that he couldn’t hear, and each time he thrust into you, the further away from any reality but Aizawa you got. You blanked, feeling nothing but how you strained around him, spasming and pulsing, and how your muscles were seizing, how—how it wasn’t feeling like you were full, or that you and he were overlapping, but that hey, this is how it’s supposed to be, soulmates—you and him, together. And separating yourselves just didn’t make sense, in the way that you can’t separate the hydrogen from oxygen and still have water; to have you or Aizawa, you needed the both of you. Package deal. Bonded pair.
And wow, the tears you’d been holding back now flooded down your face, pausing at the resistance from each time his hips met yours before continuing down your cheeks and neck, and you’re out of it, out of anything besides Shouta when you cup his reddening face in your hands (pink handprints blinking before the next thrust) and manage to whine, “Sensei—”
Aizawa broke, expression flashing pure vulnerability, and he kissed you before you could say anything more, and he smushed his hips against yours, hitting you more deeply as he finally circled your clit again. The orgasm was torn out of both of you, but it’s torn in the way that the wind tears a kite away from its flyer.
When you opened your eyes, the bedroom was filled with floating, pink dust, glittering when lightning struck. You had to encourage Aizawa from his spot, buried in your neck, to see it, and the two of you watched it shimmer and dissipate as the storm picked up again, rain audibly hitting the glass.
“Do you think that happens every time?” you asked as Aizawa helped you out of the bed.
Aizawa turned the knob to the bathroom and flicked on the light. “I’m sure we’ll find out.”
He had to help you walk, since your legs were shaking so badly. Luckily, you had a good laugh about it. Aizawa set you up (or rather, down) in the shower, telling you to warm up while he changed the sheets and that he’d join you soon.
By the time the two of you were out of the shower, the soulmate dust had vanished. Aizawa got into bed first (and he had to take a moment to calm down when he saw you wearing his pyjamas), and you climbed in after him. After some brief experimentation, you found that, if you shaped your hands just right and pulled them away all at once, you could leave a soulmark in the shape of a heart. So, you did, just over his real heart, and you leant back, pleased with yourself.
Aizawa glanced down at his chest and grinned. “Adorable. But I’m afraid it won’t stay for long, my love.” He held his hand mere inches from your head, wiggling his fingers in a taunt. “I doubt I can go for long without touching you.”
You caved without hesitation, leaning into his touch as a chuckling Aizawa ran his hand through your hair. “That’s fine. That just means I can constantly make it anew.”
“You’re ridiculous,” said Aizawa, and he wrapped his arms around you to pull you close, snuggling into you. “Go to sleep. You can mark me again in the morning.”
soulmate trope taglist: @bakugouspsycho, @pansexualproblemchild, @doonaandpjs, @sunsetevergreen, @the-coffee-is-on-fire, @liberace2, @ladymidnight77, @nonomesupposedto, @gooooomz, @kissmebakugou, @pachiibatt, @celestair
#bnha#aizawa shouta#aizawa x reader#aizawa/reader#aizawa imagine#aizawa fic#mha#aizawa headcanons#aizawa fanfiction#aizawa fanfic#aizawa shouta x reader#soulmates#soulmate#soulmate au#dash it all
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Snippet - Puppy Love - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO
Sevika narrates a sad story...
tw: violence, gore, gang warfare
Forward but Never Forget/XOXO
Snippet:
"You have your city. Powder has no place in it. Let her have a normal life. In Piltover, with me."
Sevika stares a moment before a laugh spangles out. It's like rich, smoky music. In it, Vi hears echoes of a girlhood lost. She hears other things too. Disbelief, disdain. And the shock of epiphany, as if Sevika finally understands that Vi and Powder aren't simply sisters, but strangers to each other. Different species.
To Vi, Zaun is a black maw. To Powder, it is a cradle.
"A normal life?" Sevika repeats, when she can breathe without gulping. "With you? Do you even know what that means? Jinx would be a fucking fugitive. They'd throw her in the clink."
"I'd keep her safe! Get her across the sea." Vi's eyes glaze wetly. "We'd run away. Together."
"Yeah? Where would you go?"
"Wherever. It doesn't matter. Someplace warm. An island in Tereshni. With sun and sand. Or a fishing lodge in Bilgewater. Anything, as long as it's not here. She can paint, or build model ships, or—"
"You think it's that easy? Just pick up and start over?" Sevika's eyes are so dark the pupil and iris are indistinguishable. "What do you think she is, a fucking doll? Put her someplace new, and bam! She's fixed." She shakes her head. "Your sister's fucked beyond repair, Vi. There's no place for her anywhere. Except Zaun. Because our city gives her what she needs." She taps her temple. "Someplace to put all that chaos."
"That's not true! She doesn't have to be a monst—"
Vi breaks off, horrorstruck. She's spoken the forbidden truth. Her sister is a monster.
Just like Silco.
Sevika's eyes gleam cruelly. "Monster? That she is. No use making her into something else." Her chin tips. "Come to think, there was a kid who tried. After Silco took over the Drop, he'd hang around. Try to catch Jinx whenever she was alone. He'd show her toys he'd tinkered with. She'd show him her inventions. They'd be happy as clams." The reminiscence curdles into cynicism. "But whenever Silco showed up, Jinx clammed right up. Wouldn't leave his side. It didn't matter what the boy did or said. He might as well have been a pebble on the street. Something to make way for the man of the hour."
Realization judders through Vi.
"Ekko," she says.
"Yeah, that's right." Sevika snaps her fingers. "Ekko. The little man at Benzo's shop. He and Jinx had a thing, didn't they? Puppy love. I remember how they'd be off in the corner, doodling together. Always a few inches apart. Then he'd whisper something in her ear, and she’d light up like a birthday candle." A beat. "She sure wasn't smiling by the end. Neither was he."
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh, right. You were in the slammer." A faux-pitying sneer, before she sobers. "After Jinx came to live with Silco, he needed someone who could fine-tune her... talents. Take her knack for guns, and make it deadly. But the teachers he brought in, they couldn't handle her. Too scared. Too impatient. One of 'em went apeshit on her. Slapped her upside the head a couple times. She ended up with a busted lip. Silco found out, and, well. It's never wise to lay a hand on what's his."
Her once-over takes in the topography of Vi's bruised flesh. Vi braces for fresh mockery. It doesn't come. Sevika's features remain neutral; a look that's seen it all before.
"After the crew dumped the fucker's body," she goes on, "we decided to look closer to home. Found ourselves a local tinkerer. Old Giz, down at the Abattoir. Fine gunsmith. He'd done business with Silco before. Had the smarts and the patience to deal with a powderkeg like Jinx. Every week, he'd take her out to the scrapyards. Show her how to dismantle a firearm. How to build it back up from scratch. She gave him plenty of lip. Called him Geezer and made fun of his gimp. But she listened. Learned. Soon, she was building her own guns. Models with unique designs. Ones that made Giz's creations look like junk. Silco was real impressed. So were the rest of us. Until..." Sevika's jaw hardens. "Turns out, Giz was too much of a softie for his own good. Silco had been paying him a premium to give Jinx private lessons. But Giz, he'd turned his shop into a bona fide daycare. He let Ekko drop in whenever the kid pleased. Didn't mind having him underfoot, either. Boy had a way with tools. He'd sit and work with Jinx, and they'd chatter non-stop. Sometimes, they'd be too busy playing to work. Giz didn't mind. The way he saw it, the kids deserved to be kids."
Vi's throat works. "And—Silco found out."
"What can I say? He's a man who expects a bang for his buck. When he heard Giz had been letting Ekko hang around, he was none too happy. Giz had designed the security rigging at the Drop. And he knew where we stored the Shimmer. One slip-up, and our headquarters would be compromised. Silco was pissed. But he didn't think Ekko was trouble. So he let it slide. Told Giz not to make the same mistake twice." Her lips pull in tight. "Then Giz did something even stupider."
"What?"
"He left the schematics of the Drop's security at his workshop. Ekko, the little shit, found 'em. Took a good long look. Made his own copies. This was right around the time Jinx stopped taking her lessons with Giz. I don't know why. Maybe she got tired of his chatter. Maybe she found a better way to blow off steam. Whatever the case, Ekko didn't like it. He got it into his head that something fishy was going on. That maybe... Silco was hurting Jinx. He went from playing with her to pestering her. I'd see them sometimes on the rooftops. He'd be tugging her arm. Trying to get her to run away with him. But she wouldn't listen. Everytime Ekko pushed, she'd push back twice as hard. Eventually, he gave up." A beat. "Or so we thought."
A foreboding chill creeps in. "What happened?"
Sevika's eyes flick left and right, before resettling on Vi. "Ekko staged an... intervention. He got a bunch of brats from the Lanes together. They memorized the security checkpoints at the Last Drop. Then they decided to break inside, torch the Shimmer storehouse, and make a run for it—with Jinx in tow." She shakes her head. "The moron. I warned him to stay away. But he was gung-ho. Only fourteen, and Jinx was the moon to his sky. So, he and his gang—they snuck in at midday. Right when the guards changed shifts."
Vi's mind reels. She knows what comes next.
"It was a massacre. Jinx knew they were coming. Don't know how, exactly, but she knew. She went and told Silco. I remember them both in the barroom the night before. Him sitting at the counter. Her standing by his shoulder. Going on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. They had the same look. Same set to the mouth. The same fucking eye." Sevika's features shade into grimness. "The next day, Ekko and his gang snuck in. One of them stepped on a trigger wire. Set off a silent alarm. When they entered Silco's office, our guards were waiting. The punks didn't have a chance. Most were scrappers with switchblades and flashbangs. Silco's crew were trained militia. And they'd been armed with the brand-new guns Jinx had designed. I still remember those babies. The model was similar to a High Standard 10 riot gun. Generates a muzzle velocity of 625 feet per second. Enough to blast through an armored vehicle—or blow a man's guts across the room."
Vi's skin feels two sizes too small. She remembers the way Powder used to hold the toy guns at the old Arcade. The way she'd cock her elbow and squint down the barrel, her tongue peeking from the corner of her mouth.
Just a kid.
And Silco turned her into a killer.
"How many…?" she whispers. "How many kids were with Ekko?"
"Six. All gangly brats. We had 'em rounded up in seconds. Then Silco ordered 'em dragged outside. There, as the Lanes watched, our men popped 'em, one by one, like fish in a barrel. Ekko got the ringside view. Held Silco's attention till the very end. Till his last little friend went belly-up, and his skull split like a melon. Ekko started crying. But Silco didn't want tears. He wanted to send a message. The old days of turf wars were over. The thefts, the break-ins, the midnight raids. They were all gonna end. And the Lanes were gonna toe the line. Or else."
Vi swallows a reflux of bile. "Ekko was a good kid. He didn't deserve—"
"He and his pals were a bunch of uppercut morons. What'd he think would happen? He and Jinx would ride off into the sunset on a pair of unicorns?" Sevika’s lips peel back from her teeth. "All of it could've been avoided if he'd minded his own damn business. Left Jinx be, and respected Silco's rules. But no. He wanted to play the big damn hero. To take Jinx away from the one man who had the resources—the balls—to keep her safe."
"Ekko was trying to protect her!"
"Bullshit. He was trying to 'fix' her. Same as you. He thought she'd be someplace different, and click! All that faulty wiring would untangle itself. Like she was a clockwork toy that needed a new set of springs." Disgust grits itself into Sevika's features. "People aren't gears and levers, Vi. And the past doesn't wash off like dirt. Everything Jinx did at the Cannery—the blood, the bodies—was a consequence of her own goddamn choices. There's no undoing that. Or unmaking her. A monster is… as a monster does."
The dreary summation of life and death in the Lanes—a lesson of brutal math that Vi has known since she was knee-high—doesn't keep the boiling tears from her eyes. Vi sinks her teeth into her lower lip until the pain stills the impulse to cry.
Or scream.
"Ekko got the message," Sevika goes on. "So did Jinx. She watched the whole thing. Watched the kids fall, one by one. Watched Ekko break down crying. Watched his rescue mission turn into what it was. Just a bunch of punks running around half-cocked. By the end, Ekko was a mess. Splattered in his friends' guts, and shaking like a leaf. He kept looking to Jinx, hoping against hope she'd help. That she'd do something. Anything. But she never did. She just stood by Silco's side. Didn't cry. Didn't even flinch. After the bodies were hauled off, Ekko got locked up the basement. Silco planned to put his skills to use. Get the little rat to work for Zaun. But it didn't work out. After a week, the kid slipped loose."
"How?"
"Good question." Sevika tips a shoulder. "I suspect Jinx knows the answer."
"You think… she helped him escape?"
"Like I said. Puppy love. Maybe she cared. Or maybe she thought it'd be funny. A final Fuck You." Her laugh holds a note of marvel. "Point is—the kid scarpered. Doubt he got very far. Likely some charitable soul took him in. Likely Giz himself. We sent the crew to his shop, but Giz denied harboring fugitives. And Silco didn't want to kill the only gunsmith in the Lanes. He was ready to let Giz be. Except the old man had nearly cost us five-thousand Hexes of Shimmer. An example had to be made. Silco ordered me to take his right eye. So I did." A shrug, but her expression, for a moment, is oddly spooked. "You wanna know the funny thing? The old man didn't scream. Not once. He said he understood the risks, and was willing to pay the price. Afterward, he told me something else, too. Said he didn't blame Jinx. Told me she'd have been happier with Ekko, but she was safer with Silco. And if those are a girl's only two options, then fuck it. It's the world at fault, not her."
Her face clears, then closes like a door. "Maybe he had a point. The fact is, Jinx made her choice. She did the night she chose to tell Silco about Ekko's plans. She did when she watched those kids die without lifting a finger. She did when she let Ekko loose, and took her place by Silco's side. Your sister knows the score, Vi. Always pick the winning team. No matter how much it hurts. Because the world doesn't give a shit about your tears. It's not gonna hold your hand and kiss your boo-boos. It'll push you down and grind you under, and it'll do it with a smile. And if those are your odds, it's better to have a monster in your corner—and firepower in your hands—than to have a hero with nothing but a fucking wrench in his."
Vi has no comeback handy; her tongue is a desiccated stub.
She thinks of Ekko as a boy. Quick with a quip; quicker with a smile. A boy who'd lost his family, then lost whatever remained. Who'd witnessed a slaughter at Silco's hands. Who'd gone on, as a full-blown adult, to fight the monster with everything he had.
No matter how much it hurt.
"Winning team, huh?" Her throat is raw. "What about the people caught in the middle? Where's their victory?"
"Them's the breaks. The past is the past. There's only one direction. Forward."
Sevika's delivery is a smooth; her eyes are flint. Like a gambler who's all in. Vi wonders what feeds her stoicism. Wrong choices in the past, where she'd been forced to live with the consequences. Or right ones, and their bitter pay-off. Vi thinks of the woman's history. Her father, the Wharfside Devil. His business: bootlegging, brawling, murder. His fate: a life sentence in Stillwater.
Sevika, Vi thinks, is the byproduct of her father's errors.
Just as Powder is the byproduct of Vi's.
#arcane#arcane league of legends#arcane silco#silco#forward but never forget/xoxo#forward (never forget)/xoxo#arcane jinx#jinx#snippet#arcane sevika#arcane vi#arcane ekko#ekko#vi#timebomb#jinx x ekko#ekkojinx
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rocky and his water motif
ive seen a few people analyze rocky and his symbolism with water, and i thought id jump on the train and contribute what ive found. i looked through every piece of art in the gallery and messed around with the dead drop to find everything here! with that being said…
obvious spoiler warnings! and warning for a lot of speculation and over analyzing! a lot of things i mention are really big stretches but i added them anyways incase anyone else wants to look into it more
starting where the pilot starts and near the start of the comic (the page “lackadaisy dithyramb”), right off the bat we have an entire poem from rocky dedicated to the mississippi river. this iconic poem is literally just about the river, and he recites it in both scenes from on the bridge over the river.
note that in both cases there is also a crescent moon featuring in the background
more poetry! this one is from the comic on the page “lackadaisy doggerel”. this is actually one of my favourite pages in the comic, its very cool! we have this poem that, again, is entirely about water. it talks about water in a metaphorical way, comparing it to memory and the passage of time. maybe ill try to analyze this poem sometime but idk im not very good at that stuff. seems to talk about rockys past but im not sure
i didnt want to just put this entire page here but i will note that the page has a raging storm, an ocean, a water mill, another storm cloud and a waterfall all picured above rocky, who, in this case is ahem under water, in a way.
last bit of poetry im talking about is probably the most relevant. rockys feauture in the “lacrimosa” poem/halloween artwork shows him seemingly drowning outside a window.
the significance of it being outside a window is somewhat unclear to me, as every other character appears in something reminiscent of a picture frame. my only idea is that its meant to show him outside of what could be a home, in reference to him getting the “unceremonious boot”. the text emphasizes this idea, saying hes away from home
this next one is more obscure and much more of a stretch! after digging around in sketchbook pages, i found this tiny little sketch on a page simply labeled “lackadaisy preview 0018”. the sketch page features sketches that were used for the page “lackadaisy palaver” in the comic, and a few bonus doodles. this was one of the bonus doodles, and i cant seem to find a comic pannel that matches it anywhere.
this sketch could be a lot of things, its a bit hard to tell. most likely, its an unsused pannel of rocky that was going to be used on the comic page. maybe him on whe windshield, or something like that. that being said, the first thing i thought of was the lacrimosa art. its a stretch but i thought id add it, just in case! who knows really
next up is rockys character artwork, which features him standing on a barrel floating in a river.
be careful rocky, you might fall! one little detail about this art that i like is that hes quite literally hiding his sadness behind his back. and again, the crescent moon motif features in the background. the cattails in this image also remind me of this scene in the pilot
…but i mean cattails do grow near water so i dont think that means anything
speaking of the pilot, this scene has rocky accidentally blowing up a water tower and flooding the area, and getting a whole bunch of water dumped on him
be careful rocky, you might get hurt! ...i dont think he cares
one last note from the pilot (for now) is a line from mitzi after rocky comes back with alcohol for them. it could mean nothing, could be foreshadowing, who knows
note in the second image: “rest” as in the rest of the alcohol they were meant to bring back
the music video for liquid gold ends with rocky dropping a bottle and the golden liquid flooding the room
i wasnt even looking for water symbolism when i found this, i was just rewatching the music video for fun! i just about had a heart attack when it ended like that D: rocky please dont drown
back to the comics! sorry this is a bit all over the place. forgive me for just uploading an entire comic page, but the page “lackadaisy thunderhead” features rocky standing over a river. at the bottom of the pannel on the right there are daisys, a symbol that features in a lot of rockys artwork and is generally associated with the lackadaisy speakeasy. the daisys could just be for aesthetics or to frame the pannel better, but its also notable that they appear where the water is.
the name “thunderhead” is interesting given some other pannels
not sure what it means though
the very first scene in the comic aside from the introduction shows rocky at the river.
in the page “lackadaisy trouble boys” from the early concept art mitzi makes a comment about rockys aim, and makes an… interesting metaphor
side note: im gonna cry is that actually how rocky gets the little hole in his ear lmao
the mini comic “wilderness” has rocky climbing out of a small muddy pool of water claiming “the waters great”, despite looking absolutely horrible. isnt shown here, but he says he cant feel his legs and calls for freckle to come back.
knock knock! its time for the playing cards! rockys card depicts him as the 8 of spades, although hes also been shown as the ace of clubs multiple times.
first up, 8 of spades! i really like this art but i have a lot of questions. for one, why is rocky holding a shovel and whats with the lantern? theres nothing wrong with it, just caught my attention since i think freckle is drawn with shovels a lot more than rocky (might be wrong on that though) second, this is the only picture i can find where you can CLEARLY see rockys head injury healed. cool! third, the outfit hes wearing is… atypical for rocky, you could say. for obvious reasons. he always wears blue, why suddenly the change to black? and obviously, the choice of making him the 8 of spades. some quick google searches and this is what i found: from various websites (the first things that popped on on google), apparently spades symbolizes the winter season and the water element. it seems to represent old age, change, wisdom and acceptance. the number 8 supposedly represents victory, prosperity and overcoming. i was going to put images, but i could only have 30 and i ran out of space lmao im so sorry this is SO LONG djfjsjnrfj
make of it what you will. as for the ace of clubs:
my google searches were much less interesting so ill just put my own thoughts. the clubs is likely just for the association with the lackadaisy speakeasy, as in both of these cases he is shown alongside other characters from the lackadaisy and everyone has clubs. as for him being the ace, the main notable thing about the ace is that its generally the highest card.
the main idea i personally took from these cards is the idea rocky will possibly not be a part of the lackadaisy in the furure. we see him in his classic outfit, no head injury as the ace of clubs, with clubs being associated with the lackadaisy. but we also see him with a healed head injury (so clearly in the future) with a new outfit and no more clubs suit.
not sure if this is even notable but this entire (very iconic) scene in the comic takes place in the rain
be careful rocky, you might get shot!
and now, even more crescent moon motifs
so why have i been pointing this out? well its undeniable that rocky also has motif with this crescent moon. i have no idea what it means but heres my very quick five minute thoughts on it: one: the moon controls the tide. obviously a river doesnt really have a tide, but still! theres some association with water there, so its notablea. two: this might be a stretch but in the pilot theres this very memorable frame where it shows the reflection of the moon (which initially looks like a cat) ahem in the water. obviously water reflects stuff so its not abnormal for the moon to reflect in the water but i just thought it was cool!
aaaand last but not least
this analysis was brought to you while listening to hatsune miku, i probably made a lot of typos so yell at me and ill fix them but not my grammar its terrible and im not fixing that, lmk your thought and if i missed anything, thank you for reading have a nice day sorry it was so long <3
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sketchbook dump :3 ive been drawing in here a maniacal amount
descriptions and such below
1-2: practicing drawing null with more catlike anatomy + smaller boobs, two hivemind requests, and then random doodles of ferret riley and jamie
3-4: trying to make santiago's character a little more interesting... he is kinda kabru dungeonmeshi core now. loves knowing about and getting into people's business. i also need to finish this post i was making about jamie and co's families but you can see his older brother (who is much shorter than him) in the corner
5: hivemind request i did for saturn :3 it's up by itself on my blog somewhere
6: usually when i'm drawing at a coffee shop ill try to do 2 pages so after i finished the aforementioned request i put down some furry bullshit. god i love graydon's long hair era so much
7-8: i got colored pens!!! specifically a 10 pack of tombow fudenosukes. like the pic says i will probably keep using black pens mostly but the option is nice to have. i am very proud of that riley in the GLORYYY! shirt
9-10: revamping furry ocs i made... 6 whole years ago jesus christ. i want to wait until i redraw a 2019 piece of them before i make a whole post about them, but the tiger with sunglasses is a fashion designer and the hyena, lion, and tiger cub are his kids. he also has a hyena husband but i didn't draw him here
11-12: NEW OC! this is andres she is a spotted genet that works at a cafe in the university library. i had been meaning to make a spotted genet oc, and i originally drew him months ago and forgot, but i decided to revisit her because 1) there is a beautiful bigender barista at the coffee shop i draw at so this is a shoutout to her and 2) i wanted to make a bald character who is also a heartthrob so i could feel better about going bald eventually LOL. also ferret riley is there i guess
#hivemind tv#quadeca#hmfcu#my art#fanart#2024#my ocs#dorian furryverse#jamie and co#null#jamie#santiago#omar#johnny#argyle#andres#the zakharovs#igor#gia#spencer#kenny#<- these are the guys in 9 and 10#sketchbook
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ELEMENT OF SURPRISE- 💥
Even more au doodles because I have way too much free time.
This time around 🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁 Anti-Power Couple Au 🎉🎉🎉🎉 (by @starry-blue-echoes)
I think my Hol Horse bias is showing-
Anyway cute Holpol nonsense YIPPEEEE (click for better quality)
I simultaneously love and hate the design I made for him. Cause on one hand I think he looks cool as hell but on the other he has so many details the amount of times I forgot his ear piercing/braid/stubble/bullet necklace/strings on his hat/wedding ring/which side the wrist bands went on is low-key ridiculous and completely my own fault 💀/silly
These are the best hands I've ever drawn in my life ngl.
Fun fact: "Mon petit chou" with no context means "my little cabbage" when directly translated to English. Because you know if Polnareff is gonna call Hol a French pet name it's gonna be something simultaneously rly sweet in French but wack in English NSNDNNDD
There's more context than that behind why "my little cabbage" is considered a French term of endearment but that's an info dump for another day 😭
I don't have much to say for this one other than the doddle of one of the Sex Pistols holding Emperor is one of my favorite things and I'm using it as a reaction image now.
HOLPOL WEDDING
I wish I could have done more with their outfits but I just didn't have the time to design anything rly unique 😭.
I genuinely hope the random huge drops of fanart aren't overwhelming or anything for ya- I just get in a flow of doin em and don't realize how much I've done until I've ran out of scenarios to draw :') wish ya the best ✌️/gen
#fanart#digital art#jjba bruno#alternate universe#jojos bizarre adventure#jjba#jojo#jjba vento auero#jjba part 5#vento aureo#golden wind#jjba golden wind#jjba hol horse#jjba polnareff#jjba giorno#jjba bucciarati#jjba abbacchio#jjba mista#jjba narancia#jjba fugo#jjba trish#jojo fanart#jojos bizzare adventure fanart#jojo giorno#jojo bucciarati#jojo abbacchio#jojo au#jojo narancia#jojo fugo#holpol
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Beta Daisy and Dandy
I've actually been drawing Daisy for a while so I thought that I should at least dump all the old art somewhere. Time for a trip down memory lane!
First ever drawing
Ah yes. When I promised myself not to make anymore OCs cause I already had a whole bunch of fnaf ones. So much for that.
Her colors used to be a lot less saturated which in my opinion didn't fit in with such a colorful cast. There are some parts of her outfit I kept like the overalls and her shirt. I just changed the sleeves so it actually looks like she's wearing gloves like I intended. Her attitude is pretty much the same.
Doodles!
Fun Fact: Her Halloween costume is just her dad's old clothes.
He was also supposed to be dead.
Still gay as fuck
Next are drawings I made for old tiktoks of Daisy!
(If you wanna find them then my tiktok is linked in my bio)
"Maybe he's blinking when you're blinking."
Second time ever drawing Julie! This is when I started to lean into my more cartoony style for Daisy. She still never trusted Wally.
"You're not my friend!"
Finally leaned away from so much orange. I really liked playing around with Julie's design since she gives off Mable (Gravity Falls) vibes when it comes to fashion. Always wanting to change it up.
"Don't start picking fights with my costumers!"
First time ever drawing Howdy! Really wanted to emphasize how tiny she is compared to him.
"Have you been there the whole time!?"
First Wally drawing! Sneaky little guy. Definitely wanted him to look more off-putting in this one. And new Julie outfit! This one was a little Minnie Mouse inspired getup. I also like the idea of Julie's hair always being really big.
"I know saying someone looks gay is 'wrong' BUT LOOK AT HIM!"
First ever Dandy doodle! This was after I made his beta design and wanted to tease him a little since beforehand I never actually mentioned Daisy even had a brother. Speaking of which.
Dandy!
He used to actually be more two-faced and mean. Heck he wasn't even supposed to be living in the neighborhood originally. His appearance would've been exactly like those episodes in kids shows where a new "perfect" character is introduced but is mean behind closed doors to a certain character and the one character that doesn't like them gets brushed off as "jealous" but then it gets revealed they were bad the whole time to the others, then cue the group hug apology. Basically he would've been a meaner and more manipulative version of Daisy. Someone that really brought out her insecurities. Someone that loved being the "Better Daisy" Which is ironic considering he got replaced with a better version of him. As for his appearance I was trying to go for a more city-like look in contrast to Daisy's rough and tumble country vibe. But after a while to me it didn't feel "kid's show" enough.
Pets
I completely forgot about this drawing so I'm adding it a whole two days later. But yeah they canonically have pets. Daisy has a flytrap she named Gertrude and Dandy has his pet mouse Mortimer.
Last drawings of Beta Daisy
Some things really never change.
Well that's all of my old drawings of these goobers (Yes I only made three drawings of the old Dandy) It was nice looking back on some old memories. It's been a fun eight months having these two idiots live in my head.
#welcome home oc#welcome home original character#welcome home#welcome home fanart#welcome home arg#welcome home puppet show#welcome home art#welcome home fandom#welcome home daisy#welcome home dandy
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IGGY ART/DOODLE DUMP💚🐍✨
Hi all!! It’s been a minute :D PLEASE bear with me I have so much I wanna say😭 Here’s a bunch of a traditional doodles I’ve whipped up recently, I also added an aggie piece I did of Iggy :3
BUT FIRST PSA, i had a name change on here! I was previously “koopaling-enthusiast” (in case some of my followers are confused😭),, i changed my insta account to the same username as my current too (wackiwhimsi) :3 … I wanted a change to include my sona’s name (who hopefully in the coming months i can finally post on here🥳)
ALSO ALSO GUHHH,,, AS U CAN SEE IGGY IS MY HYPERFIX NOW,!,!!!! U_U i just can’t stop drawing him man!! as a fellow silly person, i must do my due diligence in drawing the silly as well :D (he rlly does live in my brain though,, a rent free tenant SMH…. But i don’t have it in my heart to kick him out mannn!!!! Cx) OH HES ALSO MY MAIN IN MK8 NOW SO THATS BEEN PRETTY FUN TOO!!! :3
If i’m being 100% transparent, I’ve also kinda been going through it recently in terms of my art…sometimes I feel like I’m not improving at the rate I want to be :c But!!! Recently i’ve also been hearing extremely kind, supportive words from friends/supporters, and that’s what’s been keeping me going☺️ gave me a huge confidence boost. yall know who you are!!! <3 The support means SO MUCHHH more to me than you could ever imagine. Koopaling luvrs unite!!!
Also!!! I’ve getting more art supplies recently, experimenting with acrylic paint markers, prismacolors, copics, and so much more. Excited for how this can help me translate all of the other countless koopaling visions i have in my brain at the moment (and boy do I have A LOT😅)…. Hm, I also find that I’m more creative when I’m drawing in my backyard/when I’m outside so that’s what I’ve been doing :)
That’s all for my little life update!!! I WONT HOLD YALL,, I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY THE FOOD‼️‼️IM SORRY I YAP SO MUCH🥺👉👈 OH AND ENJOY THE REST OF YOUR THURSDAY!! HECK YEAH BABEY. OK BYE :3
#koopalings#iggy koopa#lemmy koopa#cheatsy koopa#wendy koopa#wendy o koopa#my art#my post#my illustration#my doodles#doodle#koopa kids#the goofies#i love them :) best comfort characters
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dumping a bunch of messy whb mc doodles someone take this game from me
+rambling abt em under the cut:
1(2): drew this one surrounding the feelings of guilt between minhyeok and loyal (mc). idk if they expound on it more bc im stuck on 3-48 but like. its gotta suck feeling like you're the whole reason your best friend is going through it (loyal going to hell to revive minheyok/ minheyok dying because he tried to save loyal) and yet you cant talk at all. i like thinking about the feelings of obligation they both feel for each other. and the fact that theyre both a lil too guilty because none of this is either of their faults but feelings arent exactly logical are they. also did you know minhyeok's cut is in the reverse direction in his halloween event sprites than they should be based on the cg where he gets cut. cause it keeps bothering me.
also not related but since the halloween event i keep playing with the idea of minhyeok having some unknown relation to whatever happened to god (or maybe lilith for that matter but i have less of a support for this one) after he disappeared. i do like him as a "just some guy" character but i do also like the idea of him having that unavoidable bond with you because god adored solomon and having one soul turn back up means its not impossible for the others to appear again. also smthn was up with how the angels liked him
3: please. please stop grinding your teeth it hurts to read. loyal was also a wrestler in highschool so he's even more concious of it and is two seconds from like just putting his arm in the way so he stops. id say maybe we could invest in like lolipops or smthn but i feel like satan would "how many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie roll pop" except he doesnt even lick it he just bites it into smithereens in one go.
4: i think i literally went :0 when solomon first says that devils are idiots not long after the mc does. it rly is like. ik ur different people but u truly are a mirror of solomon huh. except loyal is more grumbly about it
5/6: like i said im stuck on 3-48 so idk how feasible this is but bad end angelification loyal! i was gonna do a demon one too but i think angel mc is more compelling because not only will you have to break your promise and let everyone, especially satan, down, but now they have to kill you too. and that would eat at the devils so badly. they already lost solomon once and now they have to get rid of him personally.
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Part two to this ficlet here (I'm linking the version where @pillowspace left art because .A. Sunnydrop and Y/N). We're continuing on the path to whump, but this is still *mostly* setup.
I might've gotten a bit over my head with writing characters I've never even read much of before so :I Hopefully I did them justice, even though it's ultimately just a tiny side plot meant to flesh out the world and characters to Y/N.
You wait until naptime before you bring up last night with Sun. You'd meant to earlier, but he'd thrown himself into his work and this didn't really seem the conversation to have with little ones around.
He's cleaning the tables from errant spills and doodles, kneeling so you can easily touch his back, right above that hook for the wire poked out. "Sorry," you say when he jolts out of surprise. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"You didn't." His whispering is a little overdramatic. He probably hasn't gotten all the reprogramming done to take over naptime and is overcompensating. It's heart-achingly cute and just a little bittersweet.
You duck out of the way of his rays as he turns just enough to see you from the corner of his eyes. "Is something wrong?"
"No? Maybe." You join him in cleaning, needing something to do with your hands. "I just wanted to apologize---"
"You just did!"
"Shush." You laugh and shove at him, and he beams at you, clearly pleased with himself. "You're awful," you tease, needing a moment to return to equilibrium. "No, I'm talking about last night. I was going to finish cleaning, but that security guard woman forced me to leave."
"Oh, Vanessa?" Sun sweeps a pile of crumbs into his hand. "She called me down after you left to explain. It's all right Sunshine. We---I--- didn't mean to put extra work on you."
"It wasn't a problem!" You have to work to moderate your volume. "You're going through a lot right now. It's only fair for me to help out a little more while you adjust."
"Adjust?" And there it is, Sun's voice flattening out, even as he stands to dump his trash in the nearest can. You trail after him like a shadow. "I'm not a person Starlight. I don't need time to get used to change like a human."
"Bullshit," you say, spitting the word out with such venom even you're surprised.
Sun spins around to look at you, legs following a moment after. "No naughty language in the daycare!"
"No, it's bullshit and you know it." The cursing distresses Sun, and it's distressing you, but out of all of the loops so far, you hadn't heard him refer to himself or Moon as not a person. You poke him hard in the chest. "You're not human sure, but you're still here. And you think and you feel and Moon is important to you. Just because you can be forced to shut him out doesn't mean it's right. And it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt."
Sun doesn't reply, his hands curling over where you'd poked him. You don't really know how he feels things physically, but your finger aches from the force you put into it. You can hear him whirring, rays folding back as he starts to reply, but he's cut off by a child waking up and starting to cry.
"Oh dear, oh dear, whatever's the matter?" Sun brushes by you, taking the out as quickly as he could manage.
You don't get another chance to speak with him today. He sticks to the kids like glue, and as things are slowing down, he starts cleaning up.
"Sunny," you try, but he starts to shoo you towards the door. "What're you doing? I need to help get ready for tomorrow."
"Don't want you getting in trouble with Vanessa," he says, faux brightly. "And you've already done so much. I'll take it over tonight."
"Sun, it's literally part of my job description to do things." Even digging your feet in doesn't slow things down, and you can't pry his fingers off. It's not like he's hurting you, but he is so much stronger. "Let me finish cleaning up."
"Nope! You have a good night Sunshine. We'll see you again tomorrow!" He gives the smallest push as he releases you, causing you to stumble forward as the doors shut behind you.
You turn and push, only for it to already be locked. "Sun! This isn't fair!" There's no reply, just a couple of stares from stragglers leaving the pizzaplex. The place isn't even closed. Did you fuck things up that much? You drop your head against the door with a sigh, grinding your forehead into the faux wood. At least you have your cell phone on you this time.
And... oh. You have time to do some exploring without that guard, Vanessa?, getting angry with you. Or...
You scurry over to the windows looking into the daycare, trying to avoid being seen. Sun is cleaning, kind of. He keeps trying to stack some of the chairs, but his aim is off. But sure, he's totally fine. You scowl, angry and upset at his pain. If you had done things right, you could be comforting him right now.
No, no, it's not time for a pity party. If Sun can push through for the kids, you can for him and Moon. And to do that, you just have to learn how to avoid Vanessa and find the (other) trespasser. They probably start the fire. So if you catch them, you stop the fire and the loop!
And maybe you're a little salty about Vanessa kicking you out (and blinding you with her flashlight). It's fine. You're fine. You'll start with exploring the other play areas, see if there's any signs of people camping out.
✴️✴️✴️
You don't really know how you ended up in Monty Golf, let alone above it, and yet, here you are. You're not afraid of heights, per say, but the railing feels rather flimsily put together in your hands, and you're tempted to turn around and leave. There's no way in hell anyone with half a mind would be skulking around up here.
"Monty! Hey."
Bonnie's voice from below makes you jump, the catwalk swinging from the sudden movement (oh fuck this shit why did you walk so far out). You crouch, making yourself as small as possible in case the animatronics look up.
For the first time, you actually see Monty, appearing from inside his own head. Bonnie crosses through the room, careful not to damage the decor. "Roxy said I'd find you in here."
"Of course she did. What's up?"
You don't actually know Monty at all. He takes over for Bonnie as bassist, but you didn't see him much during any loop. And what little you do know is at odds with what you're hearing. He sounds. Calm?
"I heard the good news. You're finally getting your bassist claws!" There's a metallic thunk as Bonnie claps Monty on the shoulder. "I knew you could do it."
"Yeah, about that." You can barely see the two of them, mostly Bonnie since he stands out against all the green. You definitely can't see their faces, and you're not really in a position to move. "Why am I getting my claws? You're the lead bassist in the band."
"Oh!" Bonnie sounds surprised at the question. "Upper management wants to shake things up a bit, you know? Like when Roxy came on board. It turned out well for her too."
"Not so much for Foxy," Monty replies dryly. "And what about you? Are you just going to hang out in the bowling alley?"
"It wouldn't be all that terrible. I like working with the kids." Bonnie sits with Monty, and now you can't see him either. You think about crawling to the other side, but the metal of the catwalk threatens to tear open your hands. You remain stuck, thinking.
"What does Freddy think about this?" You try getting your feet under you, heart pounding in your ears.
"Oh, well!" Bonnie sounds flustered. "I've not told the others just yet. Can you keep it to yourself a little longer?"
"I'm not going to lie." You pause, stuck in an awkward crouch. That sounded more like the Monty you were familiar with, and it sent a shudder down your spine. You squeeze the guardrails more tightly.
"I'm not asking you too! I'll tell them, tell Freddy. I just. It's better if he hears it from me." Bonnie sounded scared too. No, not scared. Anxious. Raw. For the first time it hits you that this isn't a conversation you're meant to be hearing. You take a step, then another when it proved feasible. You'll give the glamrocks their alone time, and you try not to listen to the rest of the conversation, focusing on the sound of your breathing instead. It helps that they are speaking more quietly now. It's as you finally reach the other side that you pick up another snippet of the conversation.
"Take care of him for me, okay?" You turn, confused, and Monty echoes that confusion. Bonnie doesn't give an answer, standing instead. "Come see me in a couple days. I want to give you something before the big announcement."
"All right, but Bon..." Monty trails off, Bonnie already leaving. You decided that's your cue, moving to the stairs and escaping the golf course at last. The back of your shirt feels drenched, so you pull off your sweater to hug tight, waiting for the sudden drop of energy to pass. You've wasted too much time eavesdropping on a conversation that has nothing to do with your current mission, and you do need some sleep eventually. You decide to check on the daycare before figuring out how to slip past Vanessa.
You exit the maze like employee halls at party row, and for a moment you're confused. It's dark, darker than last night, and it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. You think about keeping low but if memory serves, most of the cameras here are pointed towards the private rooms and daycare. You still move as quietly as possible, making it halfway across the room when you realize.
The Daycare is dark.
"Moon?" You shake off the surprise, running to one of the windows, hands slapping against the plexi. It's too dark to see into, but you try anyway, cupping your hands around your eyes to block out the light.
There's no movement that you can see, not until the massive doors on the other side open, two figures entering. One is small, human sized, unknown. The other is unmistakeably Moon. But why had he been outside the daycare?
There's little time to wonder as the beam of a flashlight flashes across the daycare and you have to drop down. That had to be Vanessa then! What was she doing with Moon? Why is he active? Your mind is racing, but there's a more pressing need. If she's here, then the path to outside is clear. You don't want to go; you want to make sure Moon is okay and see why he left. But if you get caught, you'll get fired. Maybe jailed, but definitely banned. You'll try and ask Sun about it tomorrow.
Which makes it all the worse when you finally get home and find an email letting you know you have the next three days off.
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Bridgewater doodles dump!! (Different characters wahoo!)
I’m sorry I’ve been away because of 🥰 university 🥰 but I have been in fact keeping on doodling Bridgewater related stuff from when I last posted to until even today! (This is an euphemism to not say I actually draw them every single day) so here’s a dump (Anne, Olivia, Vipin, Jeremy and the Legend Tripper)! (I will post my uni doodles another time these are bigger more complete doodles 🫶)
First of all here’s Anne Becker in the 1980s!! I did 1980s!Becker only once so!! Please don’t mind the fact it was quick doodles djdjjd
The one on the bottom left was how I would have pictured her working at the station, I don’t know why but I mostly picture her with long hair when she was younger and that then she cut it for a sort of pixie cut (probably after Thomas’s disappearance)
Olivia and Vipin doodles!! Wanted to try out that new sketchbook and I wanted to try something more realistic with my brush pens, and also had added more piercings to Olivia following @stillwinchester’s idea 🙏
Jeremy Bradshaw my beloved!! Wanted to draw him with something else than his usual outfit I draw him with, gotta admit, I like that one!! I think he’d defo have some shirts with that kind of motif for summer
Jeremy Bradshaw doodle, I wanted to try another outfit and face angle so yeah, drew him with eyes closed and a mothman kinda t-shirt ksksks + a Legend Tripper doodle too!! I was also trying a new outfit for her, I mean I see her as totally fashionable to be interesting to people as she has a very distinctive style, let’s just say that I LOVE designing her!!
Also, if you have any Bridgewater art idea you want me to try to picture do not hesitate!!! I will try 🫶💜
#bridgewater podcast fanart#bridgies#bridgewater fanart#Jeremy Bradshaw fanart#Vipin khurana fanart#Olivia hoskins fanart#anne becker fanart#the legend tripper fanart#bridgewater#bridgewater podcast#fanart#jeremy bradshaw#brainrot is brainrotting#I’m sorry I was gone#I still love Bridgewater in case you have ever doubted it#jeremy bradshaw is my fave character i don’t make the rule#bridgewater doodles#doodles#traditional art#Anne Becker#vipin khurana#olivia hoskins#the legend tripper#if you have any Bridgewater related idea for me to draw don’t hesitate!
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