#Yandere Aizawa x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

call-me-copycat · 2 months

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Love Knows No Bounds

➤ Welcome - Introduction and Request Rules (Requests are open + Some info about me)

▶ Characters: Yandere Dadzawa & Daughter Reader [Platonic]

▶ Genre: Kind of fluffy + Yandere themes

▶ Summary: Aizawa's never really taken a liking to kids. But you keep finding him somehow, and he wonders why he's now constantly worrying about you. He decides you're the only exception he'll make.

▶ Word Count: 4547

▶ Warnings:

This is yandere, so there's bound to be a slightly unhealthy mindset

Aizawa's not a creep, I promise

Implications of deaths of citizens

Graphic description of those citizens fear before said deaths

Mention of slight stalking

I'm not too great at writing Yandere, so it's not too bad

You were impossible to ignore.

Aizawa's first meeting with you wasn't exactly conventional. You were paddle boating around the recently melted lake, which was still cold enough to have small chunks of ice still floating around. The surrounding park was busy with people, all enjoying the evening weather right before the sun went down.

Aizawa was just trying to take a walk, he wasn't even on the clock. But when disaster calls, he has to be the one to always answer.

Something must've caught the bottom of your boat, because before you knew it you were engulfed in icy water. Your limbs locked up, and all the breath in your lungs immediately went out.

He was the first one into the lake, pulling you out and onto the grass where it was safe. Before you could grasp your bearings, he was already gone. You only caught a glimpse of the man that had rescued you.

Aizawa, on the other hand, was slightly annoyed with you, seeing as he had to make his walk all the way home in soggy clothing with a chill digging into his bones.

But he didn't care. You were an empty face in a faceless crowd.

Until you appeared again.

The weather was still slightly chilly, but it didn't deter you as you set off for school. You walked down your normal path you'd take, only to see a large dog waiting for you at the end of the path. It was chained, but it was blocking the area - most likely waiting for its owner to come back. You didn't have time for that.

Ultimately, the best decision for you was to go around. To take a slight detour. You were never allowed to walk in strange areas, and you knew your parents would have a fit if you were found out.

Approaching the new area with caution, you sped your way through the neighborhood with ease as it wasn't too different from yours.

A glimpse was what caught you off guard.

Passing by an apartment complex, you initially didn't think much of it. You peeked into the parking lot, only to see the back head of a man getting into his car. He was placing something into the back seat, and you watched curiously as he shut the door and turned to get into the front.

Your eyes widened at the exact moment when you saw his face, remembering the blurry outline of the man that rescued you. Quickly, you calculated how much time you had left before school, eventually coming to a decision as you swiftly made your way over to him.

Your walk turned to a run as you watched him get into his car and turn his key. Your bag rapidly beat against your back as you heavily panted, ending up haphazardly behind his car just as he began to back up.

The car instantly halted with a screech, the back lights blaring as you stood frozen in place.

Aizawa heatedly opened the car door, scowling at the blatant disregard you had for your safety. Before you could react, he was already on you.

"Are you not watching where you're going? Do you not know what would've happened if I didn't react in time?" He snapped, not having much patience with random kids so early in the morning.

You stood there awkwardly as you fiddled with your school uniform, not realizing why you had wanted to reach out to him. Looking at the ground, you evaded his angry glare as you thought about what you had wanted to say to him.

Aizawa's expression softened as you avoided his eyes, realizing he was being a bit too harsh on you. He knew he needed to be stern, but he often got scolded by Mic And Midnight for being too harsh at times. Realizing his behavior, he steeled himself by taking a breath and kneeling down to your level.

"Look..." He started, placing a hand on your shoulder, "You just need to make sure you're aware of your surroundings, I don't want you getting hurt because of someone else's actions. "

Looking up at him with determination, you gripped the bottom of your shirt as you exclaimed, "You...! You're the one who helped me in the lake, right?"

His eyes widened for a second as he thought back to it, realizing that you were the kid he helped out at that moment. He never had someone remember him helping them out, often due to his hidden nature to keep his face out of public view. He would simply do his job and leave. If anything, it was to be expected to not get anything out of it.

Aizawa wasn't sure how you did it, but you somehow managed to find him and mustered up the confidence to thank him. He now saw you as who you were, a kid with a name and face instead of being one of the many blurs in the background.

Still at knee level, he rubbed the back of his neck, "I am," curious, he had to ask you, "Would you mind telling me how exactly you were able to find me here? "

You excitedly nodded your head with a smile as you recalled the issue with the dog and your regular path to school, and how even though your parents didn't like you taking new paths that you didn't have a choice, and to please not tell them or else you'd get in trouble -

Immediately, you remembered about school, and instantly realized that if you didn't hurry then you'd be late, Aizawa quickly catching on to your unease.

"I need to..." You started, beginning to walk away as you nervously pointed out towards the sidewalk from which you came.

"How long does it take you to get to school?" You only answered with a shrug, Aizawa sighing in response. He was caught in a rock and a hard place now.

On one hand, he could just leave you and drive to UA as normal, but deal with the guilt of being the cause of your tardiness. On the other hand, he could offer you a ride, but at the expense of getting in trouble and being seen as a creep. A young girl getting into a random man's car with no knowledge of who he was wasn't the brightest idea when it came to evading public attention. With his looks and mysterious reputation, he already got a few odd looks from passerbys as he spoke to you.

Who were you, and how were you already able to worm yourself into his life?

Helping a random kid get to school was definitely not on his itinerary for the day, yet here he was.

"Are you buckled?"

Nodding cheerfully, you hummed in acknowledgement, oblivious to the heavy dread that settled in Aizawa. He had given in as you looked up at him with worry in your eyes, but he brushed it off as a one time thing. He'd only give in this once.

You weren't very good at giving directions, he realized. After too many U-turns and 'wait a minute!'s, he was ready to get out a map instead.

Finally, you arrived at your school with a few minutes to spare. You happily hopped out of the car, turning around and waving at him with a large smile on your face as you walked inside. After you disappeared from his sight, Aizawa meekly gave a little wave. It felt nice, in a way, helping out someone new.

Although, on the other side he was extremely irritated at your lack of awareness as you were ready to hitch a ride with what was a random stranger. He might have slightly scolded you on stranger danger on your way to school, but you didn't mind too much.

He thought that was that, and that he wouldn't see you again. But you were always there, ready to budge your way into his day once more.

The sun was setting, with only a few strands of light clinging onto the ground as Aizawa took a small walk to the convenience store. The air was cool, and the path was near empty as people began leaving before dark. Perfect for a night dweller such as him.

It was only when he saw a familiar figure that he stopped in his tracks.

You were wheeling a bicycle alongside you, wearing casual street clothes now. Why, he wondered, were you out at this time? Yes, it wasn't that late since the sun barely went down, but it was dark. Much too dark for a kid such as you to be out by herself.

"Oh! It's you again!" You greeted him before he could even fully see you, just as happy as you were before.

"It's late. Why are you out here?" His voice was stern, but still carried an undertone of carrying.

You laughed, already having realized that this man wasn't as scary as he seemed on the outside. You had quickly grew comfortable around him, despite how annoyed he seemed every time he saw you.

"My bike broke, so I'm walking," looking around, you noticed the early time, "besides, it's not too late, I've been out later than this."

His eye twitched. You were so comfortable, smiling and ignorant of any danger or threats that were possible. How you survived this long was well beyond him.

"Still-" Heaving another breath, he swallowed any objections and changed the subject, "What's wrong with your bike? "

You looked down at it, gently nudging it to the side and back, "I think the chain popped, though I could be wrong..."

Aizawa knew nothing about bikes. He only rode a few times as a kid and sometimes as a teen when he didn't have a ride. Still, he lowered himself to inspect your bike. Upon further examination, he did discover the chain, broken.

That night he escorted you home, carrying your bike for you since you were hauling it beside you 'too slowly'.

Aizawa nudged open his front door with his foot, convenient store bags in hand. Putting them down on his kitchen table, he took a moment and silently looked at the ground, wondering just why he was constantly fretting over you.

Perhaps it was because of how ignorant you were? Maybe it was just something he picked up when training to be a hero? He had no clue. He wasn't even a kid person, his own students were already pushing his patience a little thinner each day.

Every time he saw you, he got to know a little more about you. Each meeting gave him a puzzle piece, and a picture of who you were was slowly forming with each occurrence.

He began seeing you more often, whether it was due to random chance or by choice, he didn't care.

Waking beside you as you got off school while you told him all the things you learned, running into him at the grocery store and trying to convince him to get your favorite pudding, showing up at his doorstep with a small basket of berries you picked from the town garden...

Sooner than he would've cared for, Aizawa noticed that he began to like having you by his side. Your company was like a breath of fresh air in his lungs, your happy mood constantly keeping him from getting too sour.

It was new, and it was... Pleasant.

"Aizawaaa-San!"

Your voice greeted him just like every other time he met you, and he cracked a small smile upon hearing it.

Your were a bit of a distance away, but he stopped in place to allow you to run up to him. You somehow found him once again, taking a walk along the harbor where the boats were docked. It seemed like a game at this point, one you always seemed to win.

"Guess what?!"

Ever so excited, you seemed to be practically buzzing with enthusiasm.

He cocked an eyebrow, putting his hands in his pockets as you strolled next to him, "What is it? Going somewhere, I suppose? "

Your laugh rang in his ears, a sound he couldn't get enough of. He was just happy that you were happy, after all.

"Yes! My parents and I are going to visit Tokyo!" You put your hands on your cheeks, gushing, "It's going to be so fun, the city always has the most to do!"

Ah, Tokyo. It was a nice city, but cities always seemed to bring trouble. As everyone knew, the more populated an area, the more villains littered the place. Suddenly, it seemed that the air of amusement deflated from him.

"Just... Be sure to be careful please. "

You took notice of his sudden mood change, confused as to why he wasn't happy about your trip.

"Of course I will! But..." You tilted your head a bit, "Are you okay? You don't seem very happy today"

Taking notice of your worry, Aizawa quickly put on a weak reassuring smile. Putting a hand on your head, he comforted you, "Don't worry about it, just promise to tell me all about your trip when you get back"

You looked up at him, eyes filled with confidence as you hummed in acknowledgement.

Why was he here? Has he actually lost his mind?

That's all that rolled through Aizawa's mind as he scrolled through train stations you'd be passing by. He just needed to be sure that the ride will be safe. He didn't need to go all the way to Tokyo, but just far enough so that he could reassure his frantic mind.

Yes, he understood how freaky he was being. But for some reason, you triggered some odd emotion deep in his brain that made it so he couldn't not worry about you. The world was rough and sharp, he's seen lots of villains that couldn't care less about tearing a small girl to shreds...

A shudder ran through his spine, and Aizawa quickly ejected the thought from his mind before he could go any more crazy.

The rain was uncomfortable, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. All Aizawa could do was circle around the nearby stations then let you truly go to explore further.

Without him.

It left an odd taste in his mouth.

The train passed by, rumbling the station and the people around it, and he watched as it rode further and further away . . . carrying you with it. Of course you'd come back, it was only a trip. But what would he do if you didn't? What if your parents decided to move to Tokyo? What if you got into an accident?

It was then that he realized how silent his life would be without you in it. You were the colors dotting his gray life.

Taking a deep breath, he decided to drive around to calm himself, his nerves making him more jumpy than he'd like.

The drive was unfortunately cut short.

He knew it. Aizawa knew something was bound to happen.

Of course a villain shows up. He had seen the call earlier that day, but at that time they were much farther away. He realized that whoever the heroes were chasing must've been fast.

He was also quite large.

A massive villain, made of rock was being propelled by what seemed like self-made wings was near-cornered by a good amount of heroes going after him. And when a villain gets trapped they tend to do one of two things: they either (1) Lose any sense of logic in their mind and make stupid last-minute decisions, or (2) Get extremely violent as they know their time is up and that they have nothing to lose.

This villain seemed to be leaning towards the first point, as his flying began to get more and more erratic, frantically trying to find a way out through the numerous towering buildings with a multitude of heroes on his tail.

It was an unfortunate timing of events.

It felt as though time froze for a split second. Aizawa had never felt as powerless as he did in that moment. He could only watch in horror as the villain slammed into the train tracks with a deafening thud, knocking away a good portion of the tracks that sat high above the ocean.

(Like a combination of these two ^⁠_⁠^)

Huge chunks of rubble slowly collapsed down and into the dark waters that rushed at the bottom of the tracks, down to the point where they couldn't be seen anymore. The metal pieces of the tracks sat sticking out of the remaining ends, bent and distorted.

Whipping his head where your train was coming, Aizawa felt as though his heart was about to overflow and explode to pieces right in his chest. He felt hollow, and everything began to swirl as he watched the train skid in an attempt to stop.

Unfortunately the train was too heavy to stop all at once, causing it to skid over the tracks with a shrieking screech as metal collided with metal.

Sparks flew from the wheels as the train bolted in the direction of the collapsed tracks, threatening to hurl itself over and into the roaring waters below. Surrounding citizens were ushered out of the area for their safety, but those remaining sat and watched tensely, often screaming out in worry and horror at the sight before them.

Aizawa immediately halted his car and tore out into your direction while leaving it where it sat, uncaring for anything that blocked his way from getting to you. He held his scarf that once sat in his passenger seat haphazardly in his arms, struggling to get the heavy metal properly around his neck while he ran.

Pure adrenaline coursed through his veins as he sprinted with all his might towards the skidding train, his eyes never leaving the sight. He knew that he wouldn't be able to make it up there on time, and he surely knew he couldn't stop a train, but he'd be damned if he sat there watching without attempting anything.

A slight burst of hope sparked within him as several strength-bound heroes rushed to the scene and teamed up to heave the train in the opposite direction to slow it's movement. It was a bit of a struggle, but the stalling of what would've been a complete massacre of a train full of civilians meant everything in that moment.

A hero in front was attempting to push his feet in front of the machine while it skidded against him, and several in the back were using an assortment of quirks in an attempt to pull it backwards.

Slowly, the train began to slow just as Aizawa made his way up to it, the train still ticking its way uncomfortably close to the edge. He hopped into the train from the roof just as the front of the train slowly ran over the edge, dangling itself over the dark waters while the back cabins sat on the crumbling tracks.

All the passengers were in a panic, and it was incredibly difficult for Aizawa to manage his way through the terrified screaming and faces full of tears, but he was determined to face the chaos in order to find you.

He knew he was breaking Heroes Code. Once you were a hero, you were expected to do your best to save every person you could, with no bias towards one and risk the lives of many others. But he just couldn't think of such a thing at that time.

His mind was in a frenzy as the passengers all started hollering and rushing towards the back of the train, and in that moment, Aizawa realized why.

The front cabin of the train was threatening to rip off from the back end, the cables slowly snapping as more and more people rushed through it.

Eventually, a horrible, dreadful silence filled the cabin as the passengers still inside the front all froze in place, terrified to make a single move.

Aizawa stood at the front of the cabin that sat on the tracks, peering down inside the cabin that dangled - straight at the petrified faces of the passengers as they looked to him for rescue.

He had to think. If he just walked in, the entire thing would collapse. But he didn't see you in any of the cabins when he started at the back, and he took a second to glance over the terrified faces, each nothing but a blur to him.

Faceless, nameless citizens.

It was then that he instantly locked eyes with you, huddled at the way front end of the train. You were gripping the top bar of the train with such force that your knuckles were white, and he could see the true look of horror on your face as you had the closest view of the water waiting to swallow you down below.

He could only assume the two adults next to you were your parents, but he wasn't focused on them. Your eyes were screaming for him. It was extremely unsettling for him, to see your usually innocent and joyful face filled with such fear.

He only had one thing on his mind. The only thing he's every thought of whenever it came to you.

To keep you safe. To protect your smile.

At this point a couple other heroes had boarded the train alongside him and began to rush the the front end of the train, intent on getting everyone out alive.

Unaware of Aizawa's selfishness.

Slowly, the cables snapped as the cabin began to lower without stopping, causing the passengers to go into another round of distress as they all could only await the inevitable.

"Eraserhead!"

Quickly, Aizawa gave a small glance behind his shoulder to the random hero calling his name, keeping you in his peripheral vision. He was a young man with thick ropes of metal unwinding from his body, keeping the secondary cabin that still sat on the tracks from falling with the front. The metal coils winded around and through the train as it gripped the machine, keeping the man stationary.

"Please! Just save who you can!"

Another hero from behind the young man added on, "There are other pros waiting below the train to catch as many passengers as they can! They can't assure they'll be able to save everyone, so please! Move whoever you can grab, and do it NOW!"

He sprung into action before the hero could even finish her sentence, darting straight in your direction. For a brief second, his eyes caught a glimpse of who your parents were, and he realized that if he put in some extra effort that he could've taken them with him.

A dark, heavy feeling filled his mind for a second, and he seemed to lose control of his normally logical mind.

Envy. Jealousy. Rage.

They too, were faceless, nameless citizens.

Unimportant.

He was rash, wrapping and hauling you up and through the cabin with his scarf, immediately pulling you into his arms as he carried you to the safer cabin. Once his scarf was free he hastily tugged a few nearby passengers into the cabin with him, an alibi, before the cabin snapped entirely and began collapsing down below.

The passengers erupted into a cacophony of shrieks and crying as they uselessly tried to make their way to the other cabin before theirs fell entirely. Aizawa caught a glimpse of your parents faces again, but he only watched as they fell with no remorse on his face.

He felt hollow, but at the same time he felt fulfilled with you in his grasp.

Looking over, he saw a couple heroes mid-flight, ready to do what they could for the falling passengers. Aizawa could only look on grimly as he understood they wouldn't be able to handle all the people left behind.

You were clinging to him as the front end of the train collapsed, and as you turned your head Aizawa covered your face with his jacket to keep you from witnessing something that a kid your age shouldn't ever have to see in their lifetime.

The tragedy was all over the news. Numerous heroes littered the scene as they assisted all those that they saved to the medical professionals. News reporters were constantly attempting to get a word from one of those heroes, or an image of what was left behind. A few selfish ones, hungry for a best seller, tried to get a few words in with the victims.

The train was now empty, the front cabin sitting in the waters below and the rest of the train barely lasting against the remains of the crumbling tracks.

Ambulances were wheeling out more people than they had room for, and construction heroes were already on the scene as they got ready to remove the train from the hazardous tracks.

And yet, throughout all the chaos, all Aizawa could look as was you.

You, clinging onto him for dear life. You, who almost lost that life. You, who once again was saved by him just as he did that one time in the lake.

He refused to part with you, accompanying you all the way to the closest hospital they could get you to that wasn't overcrowded. He still stayed by your side, all throughout the night as you couldn't sleep.

He was by your side as the doctors gave you one last checkup before letting you know you were ready to leave.

And he was the shoulder you cried on when you found out the news about your parents. They were just faces in the crowd, yet he was still there to assist you.

He was a hollow, empty man towards the unknown. Those without faces didn't gain any sympathy from him, they littered the background plenty.

He was there when you felt completely, awfully lost and scared. And he was the one to offer you a home. He gave you a home, safety, and unconditional love and comfort. He was simply, conveniently there, and you didn't question it.

He was there for every fear, every nightmare, and every time your felt alone.

Later on, he was the one who accompanied you to school, this time as the one to sign you up and drive you home without worry. He drove you everywhere freely, no matter where you wanted to go. No worries attached.

You reached out to him as your pillar, and for once, things flipped around as he was your beacon of light now.

Soon enough, your smile returned, and with it that laugh he so enjoyed hearing from you. You were safe, and you were happy. That was all he needed.

Now that you were his, he wouldn't risk a single thing that he thought would put you in danger.

Your laugh was purely for him to hear.

Your smile was only his to see.

Your safety was only his concern.

Constantly by your side, you both rarely parted. He wouldn't allow you to anymore, seeing what happened the last time he attempted to let you go off without him.

You couldn't have been more grateful for all he gave you. He saved you from a lonely life ahead, and he kept you safe. He was always telling you that, anyways.

But you didn't mind. Aizawa was Aizawa, and you couldn't ask for anything else. For all you knew, he was the man who always conveniently showed up to save you, the one to always lend a hand whenever you needed it.

But to you, he wasn't Aizawa anymore.

He was Dad.

And he wouldn't ever let it go any other way.

Notes:

I hope this was good for a first attempt at writing Yandere! If this wasn't to your liking, send me a message through asks and I'll write another how you'd like! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

I really liked the plot I made for this one - ̗̀ ( ˶'ᵕ'˶) ̖́-

I'm working on the other requests I've gotten, I've been getting plenty! I really appreciate every one who sent one in, I look forward to fulfilling what I can ୧꒰*´꒳`*꒱૭✧

I hope you all have a lovely day!

@jessiedead Hope you like it (⁠^⁠^⁠)

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ghoularaki · 1 year

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bound to you

commission for @soranihimawari <3

↠ word count: 2,567

↠ pairing: aizawa shouta x reader

↠ genre/warnings: smut, canonverse, yandere! aizawa, aizawa kidnapped the reader but she’s kinda into it lol. NSFW (bdsm, bondage, inappropriate capture weapon usage lol, bratting, oral sex/throat fucking, unprotected sex)

You had grown oddly comfortable in the situation presented to you. At first you had abhorred the man that confined you to this home. Though as the days blended together, you welcomed the mundaneness. You thought of the positives: at least you were taken in by a person you knew and not a complete stranger.

The history between you and Aizawa was fleeting. It was nothing more than you both going to the same school, you were a support student while he was working his way to being a hero. You were a first year and he was a third year, on his way to graduating. Of course a man like him didn’t have time for someone so seemingly insignificant. Like any other school girl with a crush, you watched from a distance. Notebooks filled with scenarios of him sweeping you off your feet, but it was nothing more than that. As the years flew by, those childish daydreams had floated away from your mind.

Aizawa was a thing of your past. Until he wasn’t. After he saved you from a low profile villain that robbed the coffee shop you ran, his face was something you saw frequently. He used the excuse of needing his daily dose of caffeine. You smiled at him, choosing not to point out you didn’t need to know why he came to your store. Everyone needed coffee, especially with the busy schedule he ran.

Once a week turned into a couple times a week until it blended into him coming multiple times a day. At first you were freaked out at how sometimes he wouldn’t even order anything, he would just sit and stare at you almost like if he didn’t watch you, you would disappear. Like you were a figment of his imagination.

It shouldn’t have come to a surprise when one day you had woken up in his apartment, thankfully still clothed, instead of your own. You tried to bargain with him that you had a life too, but every plea was met with a blank look he would give his students. Aizawa was a stubborn man and no matter how much you tried to break his steel exterior, it was futile.

As time passed, you grew bored of being a doll locked up in a playhouse. Despite this, Aizawa wasn’t an unreasonable man, if you behaved he let you go outside as long as you were with him. Though your coffee shop had to be closed down. How could you run a business when the store could only be open for maybe three hours out of the day, at most.

At least life was a lot more simple—not easy—simple. You had rules to abide by and Aizawa was strict, never lenient. You were to make sure the house was clean and organized, you kept yourself healthy, shared dinner with Aizawa and by no means try to leave the house. So simple that it was difficult to squash the want to cause mischief. As you laid in bed with your beloved, a plan formed.

“Let me braid your hair,” you spoke into the morning air.

Aizawa glanced over to you from where he came out of the bathroom to get ready for a relatively unbusy day. The mammoth of a man, came out in only a towel. You swallowed at the familiar sight of his built form. His chest was decorated with a pleasing amount of chest hair. He had a rare day off from both hero work and being a teacher.

"What are you up to," he said, going back to the closet. You eyed as he put his boxers on from under his towel despite the amount of times you saw each other naked.

"Nothing," you pouted.

"You think I don't know you by now?"

"Just come here."

He sighed. Picking out a pair of black sweatpants, he dropped the towel to put them on. Aizawa finally acknowledged your command, turning to you as he put on a long sleeve to match his black bottoms. He swiped the brush on the vanity.

You patted the bed, inviting him to sit next to you. The man easily listened to your beckoning, placing his body down on the edge. He was silent as he reached over his shoulder to hand you the brush. You were giddy to play with his hair. Since you guys started whatever this relationship was, you forced him to start using high end shampoo and conditioner, leaving his inky strands so much softer. He even started using it on his chest hair so it was more comfortable to lay on top of.

Aizawa was a standoffish man, but his silent gestures showed how much he truly cared.

You kneeled behind him, brushing through his hair bottom to top, knowing that he got easily annoyed if you were rough with his hair. Sadly, he didn't care for having his hair pulled. Though he yanked your hair to his contentment.

Once his hair was free of knots, you divided the tendrils into three parts. You didn't do anything fancy knowing that if you tried to be more intricate, he would just take it out.

Taking one chunk from the others, you crossed and folded them over each until his hair was in a simple braid. Tying it off with an elastic, you let him free.

Aizawa stretched his arms above his head before twisting his back to look directly into your eyes.

"Don't cause any trouble."

"When do I ever?"

He caressed the back of his hand across your cheek, "when don't you, my little brat."

With that, he got up from the bed and made his way through the apartment to make his way out. You followed him out as he put his coat on.

"Behave," he reminded, "I will be home in a few hours."

The warning was loud and clear.

With the slam of a door, the apartment was quiet once more and your plan was set in motion.

Aizawa wasn't a stupid man. He had the whole apartment on lockdown and baby proofed. If there wasn't anything he wanted you to get into, you wouldn't. Still, you decided to fuck with the locks on the windows, knowing damn well it would send an alert on his phone. By now, he would be hauling ass to get home, sure to be cursing you under his breath.

At first, your mission was to send him on his toes, but the need to push until something broke fogged your reasoning. With spare pliers he left out, you twisted at the screws on the locks. This ultimately wouldn't get you anywhere as you were ten stories up, but you wanted to see how far you could go.

Apparently not far as you twisted off the second screw, the apartment door opened with a bang.

"Fuck," you whimpered.

He was a lot madder than you thought. Before you could even think to move from the scene of the crime, his capture weapon wrapped around your dominant wrist. You yelped as he pulled it back, taking the other one as well to tie behind your back, forearms parallel to each other. Completely defenseless, he pulled you towards him with a sharp tug. You fell on your ass as you were dragged towards him, away from the window.

With his foot, he pushed you onto your side as you weakly struggled. He stepped over you, so he hovered above your wiggling body.

"Stupid girl," his tone was cold.

You turned your head to look up at the god before you. His hair was still in the braid from this morning. Nudging you, he had you now on your back, arched perfectly from your bound forearms.

“Got anything to say for yourself?”

You chose to ignore him, as you tried to get out of your binds. In response he tugged the cloth tighter and you whined at the sensation. Squirming, you tried your best to ignore the heat building between your thighs. This was affecting you a lot sooner than you wanted. You were supposed to have him right where you wanted him, not the other way around.

Aizawa tilted his head as you shuffled your thighs. A sadistic grin spread across his lips. Grabbing you by the collar of your shirt, he lifted you so you were level with his face.

"If you wanted me to tie you up, you could have asked instead of getting yourself in trouble. Now look at you, so pathetic under me.”

You looked away, embarrassed that you were so easily caught. At that he dropped you, your head connecting with the floor first. You hissed in pain, but that was quickly ignored as Aizawa kneeled down. His thighs bracketed your shoulders, his crotch inches away from your face.

From this angle you could see the bulge in his sweatpants. As much as he called out you getting off on this, the bastard was, too. He grabbed your head and tilted it up.

“You know what to do next. Be good and maybe I will go easy on you.”

At that, he pulled down his pants and boxers, his cock sprung out. The tip was red with pre-cum pebbling out from the small hole. You lulled your tongue out, welcoming the appendage. Aizawa shuffled closer as you were basically immobile in this position. Perfect for him to fuck your throat. He tapped the head against your tongue, teasing you. You whined out, wanting more.

“Patience.”

Despite his words, he tilted his hips to allow more of him in your mouth. You twirled your tongue around his sensitive head to which he hissed. His cum was a tang you grew to salivate over. Wanting to hear more of his noises, you dragged your tongue to his hole, dipping the tip. He grabbed your hair in retaliation forcing more of his cock into you. You gagged at the intrusion.

“You can take it.”

The behemoth of a man groaned in response to your throat tightening. He forced more inside your mouth until your nose hit his pelvis. His unruly pubes tickled your face. You tried your best to control your breathing in fear of vomiting on him. No matter how many times you welcomed his cock in your mouth, it was hard to take all of him. He was a huge man in every sense.

Seeing you had calmed down, Aizawa pulled his hips back just to snap them back into your warm palate. All you could do was let him have his way with you. Your free legs spasmed, trying to find purchase as you were throat-fucked.

You rubbed your tongue on the underneath of his cock, trying to help his release. The pink muscle massaged the vein running down the length. Aizawa moaned and his hips stuttered. Keeping at it, you sucked your cheeks in, trying to milk him for all his worth.

He followed your pattern and fucked into you hard, chasing his release. His sounds were getting louder and more breathy. You moaned in response, craving his cum. He shoved himself all the way down and kept your head there. Just as you thought he was going to come, he slowly pulled his cock from your mouth. You whined, confused as to why he stopped.

His breathing stuttered as he fully dragged himself away. He met your eyes with his own. Sensing your perplexedness, he said, “I’m not done with you yet.”

Aizawa pulled you up so he was now straddling your thighs. Harshly, he pulled down your pants and panties in one swoop. Impatience in his stature. As he denied himself an orgasm, he was antsy to have your cunt wrapped around his drooling cock.

Your body justled as he was harsh with tugging your bottoms fully off. Left bare, Aizawa yanked your right leg up to your chest, your pussy on display. Capture weapon still in his grasp, he wrapped it around your thigh and then wound it to your calf. Tugging your body up, he finished his knot by wrapping it around your chest. The only body part free was your left leg. Not that it matters, as he has you caught in his web and you enjoyed every moment being smothered.

Aizawa maneuvered his body so he was now in between your legs that were forced up by his hand. The hero leaned over you so you were completely swarmed by him. He brought his hand to gently cradle your throat, swiping a thumb across your swollen lips.

“My beautiful girl, my wonderful brat.”

Your lips fell open so he could slip his thumb into the cavern he just fucked open. Aizawa took the invitation to press the digit into your tongue, holding it down. Eyes lidded and body pliant, the hero puts his cock to your slippery but unprepared cunt. This was supposed to be a punishment anyway.

Your eyebrows peaked in the center as he bullied his cockhead into your cunny. The burn was almost too much. He kept his gaze on yours, making sure you were okay as he forced his way further. And just as he did to your throat, he pushed his way in until he was to the hilt.

His head falls at the sensation. Aizawa ruggedly breathes in and out his nose, trying his best not to instantly blow his load in your hot hot hot cunt. He was a man that took pride in his stamina, but with you, he is weak.

You whined against his thumb, begging for whatever he would give. “Patience,” he repeated with a seethe.

And yet, Aizawa rocked his hips into yours, finally starting a rhythm to bring both to the end. He drawed himself out slowly until it was only his tip. He kept his gaze to yours. You squirmed, ignoring how he called for patience. Well you have been patient enough.

Aizawa pressed his thumb down hard to the point your jaw was left agape, “stop being a brat.”

You only whined in response, not able to do much more. Whether because he could see the tears bubbling up again or him losing his own composure, he slammed himself back in.

You screeched at how he hit your cervix, tapping against your g-spot. Aizawa cruelly grinned at your pain. The hero was a sadist through and through. You loved every minute of it.

Done with playing games, he pistoned his hips in and out of you. He kept a steady pace that was not so fast he was jackhammering into your poor cunt. No, he was methodical in how he brought you both to your release. Aizawa was already close so he brought his thumb from your mouth to your clit and swirled patterns into the bundle of nerves.

Your moans and whimpers were free for him to listen to. Your pathetic sounds were what tipped him over. He shoved himself all the way in, making sure you soaked up every bit of his cum. At him spilling inside you, you were brought to your own orgasm. Stars exploded behind your eyes.

The hero dropped down on top of your body, heavy. His beard scraped your neck and you giggled at how it tickled.

“Next time just say you want to be tied up and not give me a heart attack, please.”

“No promises.”

“Brat.”

@tokyometronetwork

#yandere aizawa #aizawa x reader #aizawa smut #yandere bnha #bnha smut #yandere aizawa x reader #yandere #tw yandere

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i-cant-sing · 1 year

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You know who would be homophobic to their yandere?

Teen reader being kidnapped byvolatonic yandere dads (Erasermic or DabiHawks).

Like you're telling me that you wouldn't honestly yell every slur in the book and be anti LGBQT the moment you find out that your "supposed caregivers" that took you in were actually the reason why your loving family/mom/dad was DEAD (for Erasermic au) or falsely imprisoned in jail for life (for DabiHawks au).

Yeah, I don't buy that.

Now I'm imagining yandere parents becoming very concerned for you because "murder is fine, but homophobia? NOT UNDER OUR ROOF!" and start whatever the opposite of conversion therapy is for you.

But like what would they actually do??? MMe you read brochures? Books? Maybe if it's DabiHawks, they'd definitely go for reading you those storybooks for kids that promote the gay dads ( Hawks going "the question shouldn't be why do you have 2 dads?! It should be why not 3-!" With Dabi bonking him on the head because for the umpteenth time keigo brought up fucking Enji.). If its Erasermic, I can see Aizawa ignoring you whenever you're behaving like this and giving you whole ass lectures on why it's not OK to be homophobic, while Hizashi is fully convinced that you're acting like this because you're afraid to come out of the closet yourself and now he's trying very hard to make you come out, which doesn't matter in the long run because he and Aizawa ain't allowing you to date anyone, period.

#yandere bnha #bnha headcanons #yandere mha #bnha imagines #yandere dabi #yandere hawks x reader #yandere hawks #yandere erasermic x reader #yandere erasermic #yandere aizawa shouta #yandere aizawa x reader #yandere aizawa #yandere present mic #yandere present mic x reader

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temptacioun · 6 months

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thinking abt yan! aizawa with a darling that has a cat quirk — they have soft little ears on their head he loves to scratch and a tail that he grips and curls around his wrist while fucking their sweet ass, tugging on it roughly.

oh and he loves when they get into heat and they’re all over him with glossy eyes and ears pressed to their head ; crawling into his lap and pressing their nose into the crook of his neck, already so twitchy against his thighs.

#yandere mha #yandere bnha #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere shouta aizawa #yandere shouta #yandere aizawa #yandere aizawa x reader #yandere x reader #yandere writing

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thefiery-phoenix · 8 months

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YANDERE SHOTA AIZAWA HEADCANONS

1. This guy is possessive ASF and he will try restraining you since he's scared that you'll leave him and all that. Hell, he'd even go as far as to lock you up in a room or something to make sure you don't escape since he wants to be with you ALWAYS

2. Well, on a scale from 1-10 this guy won't hurt you so much, so imma give him a 3/10. He's lazy to hurt you properly and doesn't want his darling kitten to be scared of him, but that doesn't mean you should let your guard down. if you try acting up and behaving like a brat, he'll just wrap you up in his scarves

3. When it comes to hurting others, he'll need a good reason to kill or hurt them since...well, he IS a pro hero and he has a reputation and an image to uphold and maintain. But, he will be like an incarnation of Satan and Hitler COMBINED to people who won't back the FLIP away from you or try stealing you away from him

4. After he gets to meet you, he won't kidnap you instantly since he needs his time to prepare everything for you from your favorite book series to some cuddly stuffed animals and all that. Not to mention a super comfy bedroom for you

5. This guy will certainly stalk you, no doubt about that, but he'll be secretive when it comes to it. You're a pro hero and so, he's gotta be aware of how he's gonna charm his way into you heart and your life. He's a very patient guy.

6. Do NOT try manipulating him at ALL since this guy is really clever and he will certainly see through your acts. His punishments for you trying to escape will include either locking you in your room for a whole day or emotionally manipulating you. He won't hit you and all that, so no worries

7. He's like a dad. He's always soft when you're compliant. He doesn't care if you're the clingiest person in the world, in fact, he adores it. He wants you to come bother him and distract him from his work. And don't forget about his HIDEOUS fashion sense (Lol, Aoyama would go INSANE if he realizes Aizawa has no taste in clothes) So, sometimes when he goes shopping for buying you ugly sweaters with cats on them, you literally have to BEG him to buy you some decent clothes since the clothes he brought are just so.... ugly

8. He shows his affection with cuddles, makes you feel loved in his warm embrace, keeping you safe out of trouble. He likes giving you headpats since you're shorter than him and occasionally, out of habit, when the two of you are lounging on the couch or in bed, he will rub your hair like he would a cat

9. Overall, he isn't so bad. He might even consider buying you a pet cat or any animal you want for company since he understands that you'll be bored out of your skull when he's gone

10. He also loves it when he just comes home and wraps you and him in his yellow sleeping bag thingy and you'll look like some sort of living yellow caterpillar but he doesn't give a DAMN about it. He just likes cuddling with you and he won't take No for an answer at ALL

''Oh, someone's been a bad naughty kitty cat. Looks like you need some punishment~''

#yandere bnha #yandere bnha x reader #yandere aizawa #yandere aizawa x reader #yandere aizawa headcanons #yandere shota aizawa oneshots #yandere aizawa scenarios #yandere aizawa imagines #yandere aizawa shota oneshots #yandere bnha characters x reader #yandere bnha characters

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artemis32 · 2 years

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Subjugation I

Yandere Erasermic x reader

****

I've developed a thing for duo's

Also, warning, it's illuded to the the reader is / was a student, so if you're not into that, don't read it :)) reader is 18+ (around 19 to like 20-ish) so don’t get your panties in a twist

word count - 6.5k

****

tw - violence and abuse (against reader), implied sa, kidnapping mentions, age gap (reader was their student), mentions of starvation (let me know if I missed anything - broader warnings in the tags)

****

Part II

bnha masterlist

****

Six months, two weeks, four days, fifteen hours, and thirty-two minutes.

"Hmm. I was thinking we could order out for dinner. I'm not really in the mood to cook. What do you think Shota?"

Mr Aizawa - Shota, he insists - hums.

"Sure."

You were positioned awkwardly on the couch, laying on it upside down with your legs thrown over the back, staring up at the ceiling. Boredom ate away at the corners of your mind.

Every few seconds you’d tap your foot to the rhythm of a non-existent song, then your limbs would fall limp as you recalled your boredom. The cycle had been on repeat for the past hour and a half.

The conversation between the two men paused for a moment, and you grit your teeth in annoyance as you prepared for what was about to come.

“Say sweetheart, any special requests for dinner?”

You stare up at the ceiling with a deadpan expression on your face.

“Not hungry,” you respond in a flat tone.

The silence that follows has you mentally groaning.

Please not today. Please leave me alone.

“Ah... sweets, that wasn’t my question. Come on now, there must be something you’re craving. Oh! What about that Thai place you used to go to? We haven’t had that in a while.”

I wonder why.

The words lay on the tip of your tongue, but you bite them back. Now isn’t the time to kick up a fuss. Not when you’d been behaving so well lately.

The words make you gag.

“Hizashi asked you a question.”

Your skin prickled. You hadn’t realised that they were still waiting for an answer.

Out of the two of them, Aizawa definitely instilled more of a fear in you than Yamada ever had. You tried not to dwell on why exactly that was the case.

Heaving a heavy sigh, you hummed.

“Fine. Whatever.”

A beat of silence passed before Present Mic started speaking again, attempting to ease the sudden oppressive atmosphere.

“If you’re bored, you’re welcome to join me. Cleaning isn’t the most entertaining thing in the world, but it passes the time. Or you could help Sho with his work - what do you think Shota?”

You sit up, stretching your arms high above your head, joints popping from the lack of movement.

“I’d rather eat glass than help either of you.”

The words are said so nonchalantly that it stuns them.

Mic laughs nervously. “Come on now, there’s no need to be so hostile, I’m just trying to help you.”

His words almost make you laugh. Help you? How ridiculous. To think that either of them were aiming to help you. They were denser than you thought.

“No thanks,” you bite the words out harshly.

You stand and make your way around the couch, past the dining room table where Aizawa is seated grading papers, towards the hallway that leads off to your - the - bedroom.

They may have labelled it as the bedroom that the three of you shared when you behaved “as a reward”, but it wasn’t your bedroom. This wasn’t your home.

You weren’t happy here, and you would never be.

Mic seems to deflate at your harsh tone, watching you pass by with a pout.

“Why do you hate us so much? You never used to be this hostile. Is it because we don’t let you watch TV - is it because we don’t take you outside anymore? You know that that’s your punishment for the last time you...”

He trails off, not needing to say anything more for you to understand what he meant.

You feel your restraint wearing thin, mentally begging him to shut up.

“Maybe if you behave, we can go to the backyard - or maybe the beach or something this weekend? Of course, you’ll have to be extra convincing.”

His suggestive words are what make you snap, bile rising up your throat.

“As if I’d ever want to go anywhere with either of you... You- you disgusting perverts!”

You regret it instantly, slapping your palm over your mouth as soon as the last syllable glides off of your tongue, but it's too late. The words had slipped out before you could stop to think about them, and you immediately know you’ve made a mistake.

Aizawa lunges out of his seat, straight at you, but you’re already moving, sprinting down the hallway towards the bedroom.

Your feet slip on the hardwood floors, and you almost shoot straight past the doorway to the bedroom, grabbing the door frame at the last second. You pull yourself into the room and whirl to slam the door behind you.

Aizawa slams against it, pushing you further into the room as you throw your entire body weight against the door, trying desperately to shut it.

“Apologise now and maybe I won’t thrash you.”

The words are said calmly. He’s barely out of breath, far too calm. You’re breathing rapidly, though that’s more because you’re frightened, and less because you’re physically drained.

“No, I meant every word,” you spit the words like venom. “Go fuck yourself. You’re disgusting and you know it!”

His words lend to your righteous anger, giving you the last bit of adrenaline you need to shove the door closed.

You say a small prayer of thanks to whatever lead you to run into the bedroom instead of the bathroom across the hall amidst your panicked sprint down the passage.

The bedroom was the only room in the house with a lock on the inside of the door, and the sound of the lock clicking into place seems to echo throughout the room, a final bell, ringing like a clock striking midnight.

You jump back slightly as Aizawa slams his hand onto the door. It seems to shake on it’s hinges for a moment.

“When you come out here, you’d better be ready to beg on your knees, or I might kill you. You remember what happened the last time. You remember the promise I made to you.”

The solid door between the two of you seems to give you an inflated sense of safety, and you let loose, consequences be damned.

“Beg you? Don’t make me laugh. I’m not coming out anytime soon, so you’d better get comfortable Mr Aizawa.”

His name, his title, it all comes out so mockingly.

Your heart continues to beat wildly in your chest, even though the danger has long since passed. You flop down onto the bed, a small smile on your face.

When you left the room, whenever that may be, you knew that one of them would be waiting for you. You also knew you were likely in for the beating of your life for how you had spoken to them. But in that moment, you got a sick sense of satisfaction out of their reaction to your words.

****

Months ago, when they had first kidnapped you - rescued you - you had been vicious with your hands, even more so with your words.

You would bite, scratch, slap, punch, kick, spit at them whenever they tried to get anywhere near you. They’d been patient with you, saying that they understood that you needed time to adjust, to accept your new life.

What a fucking joke.

When you realised that your physical resistance had no impact on them - of course it didn’t, they were two fully grown men, two seasoned pro-heroes - you had switched to verbal assault instead.

And you had been delighted to find that it seemed to cut them far deeper than any one of your weak kicks ever could.

So you went with it, calling them every vile name you could think of, spewing insults as if your life depended on it.

In a sense, it probably did.

One day, around two and a half months after you’d arrived at the Aizawa-Yamada residence, you learnt about exactly how far their patience for your venomous words went.

You’d been tired, having slept on the floor in the bathroom after being caught in an escape attempt the evening before. You’d been hungry, your meal privileges being revoked as an extra punishment for trying to fight them after they caught you. But most of all, you’d been mentally drained and scared, just like anyone else in your situation would have been.

Yamada had come to the bathroom to drag you to the dining room table, back to his usual cheery mood.

Any other day, you would have been able to grin and bear, but after months of being so constantly on your guard, you were sick and tired of entertaining his disgustingly joyous moods.

He had gently coaxed you into a seat, serving you a plate nearly overflowing with food. He fed you what he assumed to be motivating words, encouraging you to eat.

Aizawa sat across from you, eyeing you with a look you couldn’t describe.

For twenty minutes you sat there, staring down at the plate of food, watching the steam curl upwards in enchanting swirls.

The men across from you were having a whispered conversation, interrupted only when Yamada cleared his throat and addressed you.

“Honey, do you not like the food? I made all of your favourites...” he trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

You felt the weight of their stares on you, you felt months’ worth of pent-up emotion, you felt anger and resentment and sadness and fear, and you felt so tired.

You felt all of these things, and you felt nothing.

Slowly, you lifted your head, your stare boring into Yamada’s, then into Aizawa’s.

Shaking your head, you let out a soft, dry laugh.

Nothing about this situation was funny.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

You’d never seen Yamada - Present Mic? - Hizashi? - look so concerned.

It made you sick.

“The two of you... You’re...”

They seemed to be waiting for you, anticipation thick in the air as they sat on the edge of their seats.

“We’re what?” Aizawa asked sharply.

“Perverts. Disgusting, horrible, depraved perverts.”

The words were whispered under your breath, barely audible, but they heard it nonetheless.

They stiffened, and the tension in the room skyrocketed until you could barely breathe.

Everything seemed muted at that moment, almost as if it had been dulled. You felt as though you were having an out of body experience, and you knew that you’d messed up.

But even though you felt dread slowly crawling up your spine, settling over your mind, you found a sick sense of satisfaction in deathlike stillness you’d managed to pull over the room.

Aizawa was the first to react, huffing out a quiet laugh. It rumbled in his chest, growing a bit louder as he leaned back in his seat.

He let out a heavy sigh, as if he’d been holding it in for years, before standing up and making his way behind you.

You tensed as you felt his hands on your shoulders, kneading the tense muscles, urging you to relax.

He moved your hair to the side, leaning down with his mouth next to your ear. His proximity gave you goosebumps, and they rippled across your flesh as his breathe ghosted over your neck.

“How long have you been saving that one sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. It sounds mocking, and he says it with a sneer.

Your racing thoughts are interrupted as you feel his fingers lace through your hair. He does it softly, intimately, and for a single moment it feels like a lover’s caress, and you think, foolishly, that he’s trying to comfort you.

The picture-perfect moment is ruined as he pulls your head back and slams it into the table.

Ringing fills your ears, and your vision is fuzzy, but all you can think about is the fact that Yamada had moved the plate of food out of the way mere seconds before your face had connected with the tabletop.

You weren’t sure if that made you feel better or not.

Aizawa yanked you back up by your hair, getting close to inspect the damage he had inflicted on you.

“Perverts huh? Let me give you a piece of advice sweetheart. You say something like that again, you’ll have a hell of a lot more to worry about than just a night without dinner. I swear to you, I’ll beat you black and blue.”

His words scare you. His actions scare you more.

Fingers still laced through your hair, he drags you to the bathroom and throws you in before crouching down in front of you as you lay sprawled on the floor.

“And in the future, if you really think we’re so perverted, maybe we should prove it to you. Hell, maybe we should do it anyway - give you a real reason to be scared of us.”

He stays there, staring, waiting for an answer.

Your cheeks feel wet.

When did you start crying?

You nod your head slowly, cautiously.

“I’m sorry... I won’t say it again, I- I promise.” Lies.

Aizawa nods before standing up. He towers above you, making you feel smaller and more vulnerable than you had in a long time.

“I think after you ruined dinner like that, you deserve another night on the floor. Hopefully tomorrow you’ll have a better attitude.”

He slams the door shut, leaving you dazed and shaking, your face bruised and bloody.

****

You’d been especially timid for months after that incident, toning down all your escape attempts and physical assaults and verbal abuse. You were still cold and harsh, you still spat and kicked and spewed venomous words, but you knew when to hold back. You saw the tell-tale signs of their patience wearing thin and you’d back off for a while, or at least until they’d calmed down.

It was a never-ending cycle, something that could be likened to a game or a dance, and it was exhausting.

But through all that, you never once uttered that word again.

And true to his word, neither Aizawa or Yamada had touched you, though they’d both made plenty of sexual innuendos and snide remarks, even going as far as to talk about exactly how good they could make you feel.

It all made you so sick, but you never said anything, never made a remark like you had that day.

****

Six months, two weeks, five days, three hours, and sixteen minutes.

The room was stiflingly hot when you woke up.

You didn’t remember falling asleep but buzzing off of so much adrenaline must have tired you out more than you’d thought.

Sitting up with a groan, you rubbed your eyes and surveyed the room.

Everything was the same as it had been when you'd dozed off. The dresser you'd shoved in front of the door hadn't moved an inch.

You stumbled slightly when you stood, dizzy from laying down for so long. Once your head had settled, you made your way to the ensuite bathroom.

Again, you said a small prayer of thanks, grateful that you at least had the privilege of a bathroom during this stalemate.

That's exactly what it was, you realised.

You didn't intend on leaving anytime soon, you'd been truthful when you told Aizawa that. But you also knew that they wouldn't back down, and that you were in for a lashing if you were to leave your newfound safe haven.

A small part of you was terrified.

Because you knew that you would eventually have to leave the safety of these four walls. And you knew what awaited you when you did. But you pushed those thoughts to the very back of your mind, shoving it into the box of things that you swore not to think about if you could avoid it.

On the bright side, you had a bathroom, fresh water, and there were various snacks hidden throughout the room, courtesy of Yamada and his bottomless pit of a stomach.

You made it to the bathroom without stumbling again and went about taking care of your business.

Ten minutes later, you realised you had zoned out, staring up at the bathroom window. The sight of it brought back some unwanted memories.

****

You had only attempted to escape twice since being taken, a number you thought the two men should be thankful for. You may have been cold and rude, but at least you didn’t give them many problems.

That was probably part of the reason they’d kept you around.

The first time you had tried to run away had been planned out in painstaking detail, and you’d accounted for almost every possibility. That probably also lent to the anger you’d felt at being caught, and the words that had followed.

It was also the reason that every window and vent in the house was barred up. It made you feel like more of a prisoner than you already were.

The two men had left for work that morning, as they usually did, and Yamada had showered you with promises of a lavish dinner and gifts when he returned. You had to swallow back the bile that you felt rising up your throat.

Part of your plan - probably the biggest deciding factor - had been patience. You had to wait, and wait, and wait, and wait. You never knew if they would decide to call off work and spend the day here instead.

You wouldn’t want them to catch you midway through an escape.

After what felt like hours of waiting, but was truthfully only an hour and a half, you made your move. The anxiety coursing through your veins made every noise ten times louder, and it felt as though time was slipping through your fingers as you hurriedly unscrewed the heavy metal grille covering the bathroom vent.

As much as you would have loved to climb out the window, you weren’t fond of the thought of falling twelve stories down, no matter how desperate you were to get away.

The next best option was the vents, and you had spent days learning the layout of the apartment, trying to come up with a mental map of what the rest of the floor of the building would look like.

It had been exhausting, but you couldn’t leave any written trace of what you were planning - not when the two pro-heroes picked up on every shift in your mood, every slight change in routine.

Keeping up the pretence of going about your daily routine that morning had been difficult too. You had to fight the urge to stare off into space, thinking over your plan again - but more than that, you had to fight the urge to look at the lifted floorboards where you had stashed the few tools you needed to open and close the vent without suspicion.

There had been a moment, right before Aizawa had left, that you’d felt your anxieties rise. In that split second, it felt almost as if he were looking through you, rather than at you, with a look on his face that you couldn’t quite describe.

But he’d left without saying anything - no warning words, no cautious looks, nothing.

Honestly, their lack of suspicion was likely the main reason you got caught - it made you too confident, cocky even.

It had taken you an hour to destroy the apartment, fifteen minutes to open up the vent, five minutes to clamour into the narrow passageway with the few tools you’d decided to keep with you, and nearly twenty-five minutes to close the vent again. Evidently, it wasn’t as easy to close it when you were inside the vent.

But you’d done it all, and it hadn’t even taken two hours.

You felt somewhat proud in that moment.

That same pride had been what got you caught.

Stumbling through the ventilation system, you’d realised how far off the mark you were with your mental layout of the building. It felt as though you were crawling around in circles.

You lost track of time. That had been the final nail in your metaphorical coffin.

The two men had returned home, talking about some or other recent hero rescue. They fell silent as they entered the apartment and saw the destruction you’d wrought.

Originally, you had hoped that they would think you had been abducted, or that they would think that you tore the place apart in an attempt to find a tool to escape.

Wishful thinking on your part.

They immediately closed the front door, set their things down, and walked to the room you tended to lock yourself in when they returned.

You never found out exactly what their reaction had been to the scene they stumbled upon in that room, and deep down you knew you didn’t want to.

The damages to all their possessions hadn’t angered them as much as your refusal to come out.

“We know you’re in the vents sweetie. Please just come out. We can talk about this - you’ve been so well behaved, we’re willing to be lenient with you. If you come out now, we won’t even punish you, you just have to help tidy up.”

You probably should have taken Mic up on that offer, but you were too stubborn, too sure of yourself.

Anytime they got anywhere near you, you’d quietly crawl away. You spent hours like that, shimmying through the vents, dodging them, blocking out their words.

Yamada was kind, trying to reason with you, cutting deals with you.

Aizawa remained quiet for the first few hours, helping Yamada look, but never saying anything.

He had reached his limit when Yamada silently whispered to him.

“This isn’t working - it’s getting late, she must be tired and hungry, can you help speed things up?”

Then the threats had started.

Threats of punishments, violent, invasive, perverse punishments.

It continued for hours.

You’d like to think that if you had become a hero, they would have applauded your grit in a situation like this. They didn’t seem to appreciate it though.

It probably would have continued on for a while, until they had to sleep, or leave for work, or until you found an exit. It would have continued, had Aizawa not shattered your hope of escape in one fell swoop. With a few words, all of your time, patience and determination crumbled.

“If you’re looking for an exit, you’ll be up there forever. We take up this whole floor, and the vent doesn’t go down.”

This apartment takes up the whole floor? That’s not possible...

He continued talking, oblivious to your sudden panic.

You don’t remember a lot of what he said, but you got the general idea that though the apartment wasn’t big, the entire floor belonged to them, and they had made sure that the vents wouldn’t lead out or down in any direction.

Dazed and absorbed in your thoughts, you didn’t realise they had found you until you were being dragged out by your ankle.

The lights were harsh after hours of sitting in the dark, and the look of Aizawa’s face had scared you half to death. Yamada had swooped in to save you, saying that as punishment, you’d be sentenced to sleeping the in bathroom until further notice.

Aizawa had added that you wouldn’t be getting any meals until you proved that you were actually sorry.

Of course, that situation had ended quite violently a few days later.

****

Your second and final escape attempt had been... messy, for lack of a better word.

It wasn’t something you had planned for weeks in advance. You hadn’t even been thinking about escape at all.

But the opportunity had presented itself so neatly, so perfectly timed.

And they hadn’t suspected anything. It had been so long since your previous attempt, nearly five months.

You had remained in the same apartment, and you had seemingly learnt your lesson. They both often applauded your wonderful change in attitude, saying how nice it was that you acted so sweetly for them now. As if they hadn’t threatened to beat you to a pulp, or worse.

It had been a Wednesday evening, and both men were tired after a long day of work. Yamada had decided that it was a good night to order in - neither he nor Aizawa wanted to cook, and even if they trusted you with knives, you had made it clear that you would never cook for them.

If you did, you would probably end up feeding them glass.

You hadn’t said much, agreeing with whatever they wanted as you focused on the TV.

There was some old Spanish movie playing. You hadn’t been paying attention.

Yamada sat next to you, trying and failing to get you to lay against him.

Like a real couple should.

Aizawa sat on your other side, watching the movie with half-hearted interest, listening to Yamada ramble on about when dinner would arrive.

Fifteen minutes later, you decided that you needed the bathroom.

When you stood up, Yamada rose as well, claiming he wanted to grab a bottle of wine and a few glasses for when the food arrived.

The two of you had just barely moved, hardly a step away from the couch, when the doorbell rang.

That in itself wasn’t unusual. The bell rang all the time.

Only this time, the delivery guy announced that someone had let him up - he was waiting right outside the door to hand off the delivery.

Adrenaline was a strange thing. It heightened your senses, it warped time and made it feel as though you were wadding through honey.

The two men looked at one another, Hizashi beside you, Shota on the couch. Then they looked at you.

You all stood there for a moment, a split second. They seemed to be warning you, urging you make the right decision, even though you all knew exactly what you were about to do.

Without saying anything, you turned on your heel and started sprinting towards the front door.

Yamada’s heavy footfalls behind you told you that he was close - too close.

You would have thrown yourself to the side, out of his way. Or maybe you would have tried to run a bit faster. Hell, you might even have stopped, if common sense had caught up to you sooner.

But the intercom crackled to life once more, the delivery guy calling out once more, and your mind was made up.

The front door was in your sights. A few more steps and you would have been able to brush your fingers against the stained hardwood.

Yamada’s arm coiled around your waist and he yanked you back, hard.

The air was knocked out of your lungs as you both fell to the ground with a heavy thump.

You opened your mouth to scream, to cry out. He would have heard you. The door was close enough, he would have heard you.

Yamada seemed to sense what you wanted to do, slapping his palm over your mouth as soon as you took a breath.

You laid there struggling as Aizawa walked past, his eyes flashing as he made his way to the door.

The hand on your face felt bruising, gripping your jaw harder when your tears made your cheeks slippery. You lay there for a few more minutes, trying to wrestle yourself out of Yamada’s iron grip.

Aizawa closed the door and made his way back you. When he crouched down in front of you, your body went limp.

Your only chance had slipped through your fingers. Again.

Luck was clearly not on your side.

They stopped pretending to trust you after that.

A few weeks after that, you moved.

The city centre was no place for such a happy family to be living, or at least that’s what they claimed. So you moved into a house, large and sturdy, in the middle of nowhere.

It was hidden away from the public eye, hidden by trees and acres of land and hundreds of road and trails that led nowhere.

Perfect for them. A nightmare for you.

They still barred the windows, shut the doors tight with too many locks.

A part of you told you that you weren’t that far from civilisation. After all, they still had to frequently travel to the city for work.

But the rational part of your brain, the one that had twisted and grown to learn all of their less than likable traits knew that they would move as far as they had to if it meant keeping you hidden. Even if that meant a three- or four-hour commute to the city, even if it meant living in some backwater town that seemed barely inhabitable.

****

Since your last escape attempt, it had been somewhat peaceful. But so, so boring.

And since your last tantrum, as they had taken to calling any show of defiance - whether that was an attempt at escape or something else - it had been six months, three weeks, four hours, and forty-two minutes.

It felt almost pathetic to keep such a stringent record of the time between “punishments”, but it kept you sane.

You reckoned that it had been just over a year since they had kidnapped you, but time became difficult in the days after your two escape attempts, so you’d taken to counting the days, hours, minutes after the punishments instead.

Now, it had been about half a week since you’d angered them. Pushing their buttons, making Aizawa specifically lose his temper so quickly, it felt cathartic.

Yamada stopped by the room every few hours, telling you he left food right outside the door, slipping bits of paper through the gap between the door and the floor, sitting for hours at a time just to talk to you about his day - trying to make you feel bad, if you were to wager a guess.

He even went as far as to beg a few times. You’d hear him crying, whispering through hiccups, asking you to please just end this. He was a good actor; you’d give him that much.

The snacks hidden throughout the room had run out on your second day cooped up in the room, but you hadn’t allowed yourself the time to panic about it. Thinking about leaving the safety of these four walls made you sick.

Though perhaps if you looked sickly enough, Aizawa might take it easy on you.

You shudder to think about what twisted sort of beating you’d receive after this. You were hoping, praying for a solution, holding out for something - for anything. You just weren’t sure what exactly that anything was.

****

Six months.

Three weeks.

Two days.

Fourteen hours.

Fifty-two minutes.

It had been almost a week. You were hungry, but more than that - you were so tired. Paranoia had started creeping in, and you couldn’t sleep. Every time you dozed off, you’d wake up in a panic. The slightest sounds set you off.

You knew that you’d have to leave the room soon, even if it were only to grab something from the kitchen. You knew that they took turns staying home, waiting for you to leave the room.

Moving the heavy dresser was easy enough. Moving it quietly took years off of your life.

Now all there was to do was wait.

Thankfully, Aizawa tended to keep books on his bedside table - many of which you had read over the past few days to pass the time. His tastes didn’t exactly suit your own, but it wasn’t as if you had anything better to do.

You’d read about four or so of his books, rearranged all of the furniture in the room, hell, you’d been bored enough to clean - both the bedroom and the attached bathroom - you’d even gone through their closet, hosting what you’d deemed a fashion show.

So far you felt as though you’d done a decent job of keeping your boredom at bay, but you were running out of things to do. And your idle mind led to your hunger becoming more apparent.

Four hours later, a gentle knock on the door pulled your attention away from the book you were reading - some or another thriller novel.

“Hey sweetie, I’m leaving your lunch out here...”

Hizashi’s words trailed off as he spoke softly under his breath. You didn’t catch the rest of his sentence.

“Okay, well... I- Both Shota and I hope you decide to come out soon.”

To be completely honest, you were very surprised that they hadn’t forced their way in yet. How they would achieve that, you weren’t sure, but you knew that if they really wanted to, they could have.

Not that it mattered - while the anxiety of waiting had been slowly taking over your mind, it had been a nice break, a change of pace to have them out of your personal space for such an extended period of time.

You loitered near the door for a while, watching the minutes tick by on the bright digital clock next to Hizashi’s side of the bed.

After nearly an hour and a half, you stood and reached for the door handle with a quivering hand. For some reason, you felt a growing sense of apprehension.

It’s fine. Just be quick about it - no need to psych yourself out.

Just open the door, grab the food, and get back into the room. There ain’t nothing to it.

After one last quick, deep breath, you unlocked the door. The click of the lock seemed so loud - too loud.

Regardless, you tell yourself that there’s no point in backing out now, not when the door was already unlocked.

Grab the food, shut the door.

The handle moves smoothly as you pull in downwards, cracking the door open an inch. You spy out into the hallway, hardly daring to breathe.

Grab the food, shut the door.

The hinges on the door seem to screech out in the silence - you tell yourself that the adrenaline is making it sounder louder than it actually is.

Grab the food, shut the door.

You’re straining your ears, trying to hear through the sound of the roaring in your head.

Grab the food, shut the door.

It’s right there. A large bowl of soup - maybe miso? There’s another bowl next to it, slightly smaller, filled with rice.

The sight of food so nearby makes your mouth water.

Grab the food, shut the door.

You look around cautiously, left, down the long passageway, towards the dining room and the kitchen, and then right, towards the office shared between the two men and the spare bedroom.

Nothing.

Rather than letting out a sigh of relief, you quickly lean forward and grab both bowls, jumping back into the room and slamming the door behind you.

Setting the bowls down on the dresser takes far longer than you’d like, but before you can linger on the stupidity of slamming the door, you twist the lock into place and slump against the door.

You had split some of the soup - miso, you’ve now confirmed - and the floor was slippery with the remnants of it. Just as you were about to move away from the door, intent on cleaning up the mess, there was a knock at the door.

“Sweetheart? Did you take the food? Are you okay in there?”

Yamada. It’s just Yamada.

Your heart is racing as you choke out a response.

“Um, yeah, I- I’m fine.”

Too close.

You ignored whatever he said next, going about cleaning up the mess you’d made. While you were crouched down on the floor, you thought about how exactly you’d have to ration the food you’d been given. You weren’t eager to have a repeat of the experience you’d just had.

****

Despite your plan to ration out the food you’d painstakingly acquired, you’d eaten it all within a few hours.

You originally stuck to your plan, eating only a few tablespoons from each bowl. But the aroma rising from each bowl, so tantalisingly close, had almost felt like torture.

And so, three hours later, despite your seemingly unwavering will, both bowls were empty and you were happy.

The problem of getting food again whenever you needed it would have to wait for another time, you decided.

After a scalding hot shower and a bit of pampering, you got into bed with a smile on your face for the first time since you had locked yourself up in this room. You felt so much better after eating, even your paranoia had eased up a bit.

Tomorrow, you’d think about what to do. Perhaps it was time for you to try and get out again. Or maybe you’d come up with some sob story speech for the two men. Or maybe you would stay holed up in this room for another week or two.

Regardless, you fell asleep content and warm, feeling almost happy.

****

When you awoke hours later, your head felt heavy, limbs weighed down, tongue heavy in your mouth.

The sounds around you were muffled, as if the world had been plunged under water.

You heard two voices.

What happened? Where am I?

The voices grew closer, though you still couldn’t make out their words.

It was as if a switch had been flipped in that moment. One second you were dazed - confused and slightly uncertain, but comfortable, and the next it felt as though there was ice flowing through your veins.

They had drugged the food.

They had drugged the fucking food.

You felt so stupid. Why had you not for one second considered the fact that they may have drugged the food they’d been leaving outside your door?

Maybe you could pretend that you were still sleeping. But how long would that last? What would you do once they realised that you were awake?

In fact, you didn’t even know how long you’d been unconscious for, or where you were. You knew nothing and you felt the tidal wave of growing anxiety beginning to wash over you.

Above all of your questions and concerns, you felt like a scared child. You had always known that they would eventually get you out of your safe zone, but right now, you had no idea what they planned on doing to you.

Not knowing made the fear even worse.

You almost threw up when you felt a hand resting gently on your arm, squeezing softly to get your attention.

“Don’t worry honey, we won’t punish you just yet. The anxiety of waiting, of not knowing - that’s all part of the fun, isn’t it?”

#yandere #dark content #female reader #bnha #mha #eraserhead #present mic #yandere erasermic #yandere erasermic x reader #yandere aizawa x reader #yandere hizashi yamada #yandere hizashi x reader #yandere aizawa shouta

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 4 months

Text

Yandere V + H: Aizawa Shouta and Hizashi Yamada

These two are the villains and you the henchman

A couple of villains perfectly prepared to take on the army of heroes

You’re probably one of many

Hundreds of henchmen under the villains are meant to be nameless and faceless

Just a pair of helping hands to whatever scheme these two seem to come across

“Sirs! I have something important to report!”

“WHAT!? What’s the matter?”

“Out with it! Tell us, then.”

“Mittens…she…”

“Our cat? Oh yeah, you took her to the vet, right? So what’s the matter?”

“She…”

“Go on! We can take it!”

“She’s…”

“...”

“She’s pregnant!”

“Eureka!!” “So, my suspicions were correct.”

“Congratulations! I’ve brought a cake to celebrate, the awesome news!”

"Wow that's awesome of you!" "Thank you, (Y/n)."

It's your focus on them as people that make them realize your worth

Unlike your coworkers who easily clock out the moment their hours are enough, you stay

Always asking if they’ve eaten, drunk enough water, or if they’ve been able to get to their laundry this week

First, its a key to their private home just to feed the cats

But then it's a meal plan of what they’ll want for dinner

Then the type of detergent for their clothes

And at this rate, they should will just start moving you into their guest bedroom

You’ve just become such an important part of their lives they can’t imagine their lives or their villainy without you:

Shota did a double take at the mass of eager minions he was prepared to lead. Not seeing a familiar face smiling and saluting among them. It would be unnerving if he didn’t remember that there were chores that he and Yamada assigned; it’d be safe to assume that’s where you there.

“Uhm babe, did you see (Y/n) on the cameras?”

“No, but I was going to. Did you?”

“Yeah…”

A look of worry and unease was on Yamada’s face, he pulled out his phone pulled up the feed of multiple cameras, and turned the screen to his significant other who had a bad feeling. The feed was clear, and a video of the cats and kittens walking around the house was sped up as the hours continued on. The speed-up footage seemed to slow as you stumbled into the room, wobbling haphazardly as the felines crowded around you as you prepared their food. He watched as you jerked and jumped to what seemed like sneezing. You eventually left but the thought of your state alone was upsetting.

“They’re…sick.”

“Yeah, but what’s worse they didn’t even say anything to me! What about you?”

“No.”

The couple grew silent, enveloped in an unnerved feeling as they looked at their beloved henchman through the screen. Shota was the first to look away, reaching for a device on his belt that held a blinking moving dot. He noted the time on his watch, humming to himself as he adjusted his cape.

“We’ve got time to catch our kitten, but we must be quick.”

__________________________________________

You felt despicable. More than your stuffy nose and rising temperature, you felt despicable with yourself. For getting yourself sick in the first place. How could you be the best henchman you could if your body wasn’t working correctly? It made you feel even worse.

You couldn’t properly serve the couple after they so lovingly offer for you to stay in their home. Granted they were awfully adamant about that going so far as to start moving your clothes and other things into the guest room in their house. But who were you to question their kindness when you were just a mere stepping stool to their villainous success?

Deep down you couldn’t help but let your insipid doubts creep in. Like why your heart beat so fast when you walked in to find the couple going through your fridge. Or when the couple send an uplifting photo of your ex being waterboarded. It shouldn’t strike fear into your heart that your employers were so involved. You were being ungrateful. That’s what got you sick. Your unwillingness to let them further involve themselves in your life is to blame for the weakness in your immune system. You’re not sick from stress…right?

“Here’s your medicine! Hope you get better hun!”

“Thanks, miss.”

Thanking the old woman as you retrieved your medication from over the counter. Trudging out the pharmacy you planned to begin the long trek back home. Completely unaware of a flashy hero stopping their route to slowly float next to you.

“Oh troubled citizen! May I be of assistance?”

The loud question grated your ears as you refused to focus on anything other than keeping awake.

“No. Go away.”

“But dear citizen I cannot for you seem to need help!”

You groaned at their insistence reminded of the enemy your employers were especially not fond of…infact—You finally looked with familiarized malice at the shining mass and recognizable hair at the hovering super-powered individual.

“You’re that one hero…aren’t you?”

“So you know of me? Good! Then you have the honor of being under my care!”

“We don’t think so.”

The monotone and distorted voice of The Eraser had you both looking up at the villains in shocked stupor. Both were fully decked out in their villain armor menacingly standing still in broad daylight. The Mic was uncharacteristically silent further upsetting your already flipping stomach. It didn’t seem that the hero felt any semblance of that though.

“You two? My it seems you have the most uncanny sense for where I am! Perhaps you’re stalking me?”

You could tell he was rolling his eyes under his visor but the villain still reached a gloved hand out to you.

“(Y/n) come with me, I’ll be taking you to our home, now.”

You didn’t know why your feet weren’t moving or why your hands shook as you reached out. Or why your heart was pumping so fast. Perhaps that was why you let the hero put an arm out in front of you as he lightly shoved you further behind his back.

“Do not hark their villainous temptations (MY/n)! They only wish to unsettle me with a hostage–”

His heroic declarations were interrupted by the sudden closeness of The Mic their speaker enhanced mouthpiece dangerously close to their exposed ear.

“Don’t you dare touch them!”

The hero cringed further keeping you behind him as he backed up. Holding the side of his head he swung it back and forth between the villains. With an unexpected battle cry he opened his palms towards the villains before frantically shaking it when he found no reaction.

“W-what is this?! Why can’t I–?”

“Did you forget who you were fighting? Idiot.”

“Wellll the idiot is realizing just how much of a moron he is maybe we’ll grant some mercy.”

“M-mercy?”

“Yup you give us our lovely (Y/n)! And we won’t immediately squash you to bits!”

“Immediately?”

“Do I hafta keep repeating myself? Just give us the kitten we’ll be up on and on our way! Okay?”

“That is until we return to beat you to a bloody pulp for so much as talking to them. See (Y/n) this is why you should just stay home, it just means more carnage for everyone else. Besides you’re so sick I bet you can’t even think straight, come home (Y/n).”

“Yeah precious how about we just go home…”

“You want watch us obliterate him would you?”

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fluff-n-cookies · 9 months

Text

Dadzawa with an autistic reader

the perfect pair <3

@inkslayer this is for you.

based of this comment I was given

Aizawa cares about you SO. FREAKING. MUCH!

he definitely encourages you to take your medicine. he just wants his baby to be happy n' healthy D:

we will also get soundproofing for your door, and will sometimes turn down the TV tell PresentMic to shut up and if he can, he will put on headphones so you can focus.

SPEAKING OF HEADPHONES

hes getting you the BEST headphones money can buy NO HESITATION.

as an old man, he likes his books and if you like them and listen to Audio books he will get you the comfiest, the most soundproof, the- I DON"T EVEN KNOW THEY ARE THAT GOOD.

but as a yandere, he would encourage you to stay in his room to listen to them as he is grading papers.

and I feel like Aizawa also hates tags on clothes, he just finds them annoying.

so we all know that he's ringing up this support hero team to get them to put together the comfiest clothes they can.

and it's tailored to your exact body shape and preferences so needn't you worry about it fitting.

and you will just find Aizawa outside your doorway awkwardly holding your clothes all like "here, for u"

he also tries not to use any strong spices or shampoo (but he all know that he does not shower no matter what) and he tries to keep you away from the smells you don't like.

but you know what? platonic overhaul would probably make you wear a bird mask to keep the smells out.

if anyone is seeing this please send platonic overhaul asks I'm bored.

and Inkslayer I hoped you liked it! not my best writing but i tried my best.

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pumpkin-pi-e · 1 year

Text

Yanderes Aizawa, Hanzo, McCree, and Toji like to pretend you don't know what your clit is for.

I Ain't As Good As I Once Was

“This is your pussy. This is your pretty little pussy. You might have touched her before, but I’ll teach you how to spoil her.”

God, I love sad older men.

Content Warnings: forced cunnilingus (female receiving), overstimulation (female), c*mming in pants, fingering, kidnapping themes, self-flagellation (Hanzo), worship (Hanzo), dirty talk, mommy kink (Toji), implied gambling addiction, your implied age is -26 (Toji), Age gap, neglect on account of gambling addiction, breeding kink, pregnancy talk, (Toji) forced pregnancy? (Toji), dubious consent (Toji)

Not recommended for those under eighteen.

You try and touch yourself to show that you know how to make yourself cum. You've been doing this for years.

Aizawa

Aizawa swats your hand. No, no. You won't do it properly. You won't do it until you shake, cry, and run down your thighs. But he will. He won't overstimulate you if you don't want him to. He will work you through your orgasm, though. No matter how much you claw, beg, and squirm. You'd wanted to get off, and Aizawa will ensure you get every last bit out of this. He'll make sure you come in his mouth, make sure your cum slides down his chin. No matter how angry you are at yourself. No matter how hurt you feel. He can be tender—can make those thighs burn and those tits jiggle in a way you can't. "This is your clit, sweet girl. I'm gonna make it purr for you."

The last remains of his words drive into your ears as his mouth finds yours. The finger in your panties swept back and forth over the smooth, leathery skin of your clit the way a slow tide would swathe and flee a shoreline.

"Nn!" Fizzy pleasure bloomed in warm, scattered waves throughout your pelvis. You twitch forward the slightest amount, subtly humping yourself into a breathy, whining mess. "'s not a cat."

Aizawa draws a lazy circle around its sensitive edges, and your thoughts water.

"It can't—" Ah! "—caaan't purr." Your voice curled. It rose and wavered like a tilde symbol—building high and going all melted butter toward the end as you lurch into the wonderful crest of good he inspired. Your hips obeyed the spasms in your tummy and curled without decision or thought.

"It already is." It's practically vibrating. Singing.

"Can't you feel her purring?" Aizawa made the most agonizing, thigh-shuddering passes over your clit. You arch, arch (uhn, God!), arrrrrrrch into each one. Your clit is ringing, purring.

"Kitty's melting in my hand." She's really showing out for attention, wetting and trickling down his palm. Your small cravings are his responsibility, as were all your larger needs. He's your provider and caretaker. You rely on him for everything else, so why not this? When are you going to learn that Daddy does it better? He can satisfy them better than you ever could.

"Don't—don't call it that."

"But it purrs."

Oh! Oh, oh! It—it—oh, please, god, oh. He's using his nails, teeth, whatever he has. Aizawa sucks a bruise right into your neck. You shiver, squeal, and wriggle. How could a neck be this sensitive?

Aizawa doesn't budge. His heart thumps as you push at him, half-hearted. Enamored with any short amount of contact, Aizawa hums. You twist away from that, too, the sensation foreign on your skin. Aizawa takes a deep huff of your neck (your scent) and falls onto you like a dead weight. The new position traps his hand down the front of your panties and you underneath him.

"If it purrs, then it's a kitty. This cute kitty makes you a queen. And a purring queen means it's time for a litter." He's still working on you—working your clit and mons. You're soaking. You're hot. You arch into his hands, desperate, nearly out of your mind.

"Why do you have to be such a kinky bastard?"

"Because you like it." His stubble scrapes against your neck. Aizawa does it often, notably during 'quiet moments,' so you'll familiarize the sensation with safety.

Or so you suspect.

The brambly term of affection came often, but from what you gathered, it reserved itself for special occasions (you're convinced he stole it from his cats). When cramps left you withered and spent, Aizawa lifted you from the lonely little corner you'd carved for yourself underneath the kotatsu and reoriented you onto his lap for something to lean on—something to wring your grief into, should you need it. Shouta said he could take it—that he wouldn't mind—and had the scars to prove it, namely, the one beneath his eye. It was hard to argue in the face of something so tangible. Yet, it left a sour feeling of worms in your gut.

You're in pain. You don't want to be pain for someone else. You don't want to hurt him—he's never hurt you.

Just because he can doesn't mean he should.

He's pushing you forward, wanting you on your knees. "Because it gets your kitty panting."

It vibrated.

"W-who said I liked it?" Your tummy tremors and sweats as his fingers trace those hidden valleys.

"She did." Aizawa dove in for a quick, lascivious kiss. "She purred so sweetly." He lapped at your clit, hot and moist and delicious. "It must be love."

Calls your vagina 'kitty.'

He talks to it (which perturbs and delights you to no end). Cum for me, kitty. Isn't Daddy treating you nicely?

You know in your soul you aren't the 'kitty' he's referring to. Aizawa only called you kitty when you were topping. He had a habit of going into a deep mantra whenever you did. "Kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty..." Aizawa sighed under his breath, sometimes moaned, and others thinly whined as you rode him and as he watched through sexed eyes progressively getting lower and lower until they would eventually close. He'd seize shortly after. And if you didn't stop, Aizawa gasped it (half-heartedly attempting to shuffle out from under you, gently pushing at your coasting thighs with jittery palms. Outside of that, you were 'kitten.'

When she obeys, Aizawa gives her kisses and licks—so many that you'd stammer and beg him to stop. He attacks with fervor, and with your weak-kneed body, he pins you there, grunts, and gives you mouthfuls of his tongue, which leads you to beg, this time more openly.

Aizawa repeatedly kissed the top of your vulva, where your clit lay beyond its folds. Such an obedient kitty. —kiss— Such a perfect darling. So good. —kiss— So perfect.

He doesn't torture you for too long. Aizawa (generally) won't overstimulate you unless you want him to. He'll even apologize. He just had to give his kitty her due.

The guiltiest (second to Toji) in pretending you're too naive and innocent to know what your clit is for, let alone how to use it. He'll smack your hand away (reawakening memories of your father swatting your chubby little hands when they had something they shouldn't).

You can insist you know what you're doing, and he'll insist you don't.

"Feel these?" You touch your outer labia. Aizawa's hand is over yours, guiding it. "These are your pretty lips." Gummy, soft, and perfect for his teeth. He'd use them for pillows if you'd let him. You wouldn't, though. There's no way Aizawa could get close enough to smell you without getting a taste.

"They'd look prettier curing my insomnia." In other words, he's telling you to ride him until he passes out, or rather, throwing out an invitation. Your lips have erased his dry eye and lifted his depression. Simply gorgeous.

"How would I..." How could your vaginal lips cure someone's depression?

"Simple," He's against your ear. His hair gave you shivers as it fanned your neck. "You sit on my face," Together, your hands rode parted lips. They kneaded love into your skin that settled in your ovaries. "and rut." Your hips went forward with a gasp, unexpected and on cue. No matter the situation, Aizawa never failed to sound like a college professor three years away from retirement. He speaks to you as he would his colleagues and students. There is no bedroom voice, growl, or husk other than his natural warmth—warmth that made you swallow from the very lips he made you touch. Made you restless on his lap.

"If you knead them gently," he says, "they'll make you feel nice." Your knees knock when Aizawa focuses on the entrance hidden in your labia, circling it. "But not as nice as this," Aizawa pats your pussy, sending ripples through your body.

Slap!

Something liquid-warm fires across your hipbones, following a path up your spine, reminding you of when Aizawa kissed you. You call his name in a panic. What is this, and why is it delicious? Unadulterated joy tore through you like a storm in Texas-May. It stole your tongue, and the thoughts it couldn't finish—stole the bones from your body. The ache reverberating in your core was a flash-bang replacing everything but Shouta's name with bright white. It rang like a bell from the ovaries out, telling the rest of your body it was in love. It scares you. "Shouta—"

Slap!

"You're alright, pretty. You're going to be a big girl and cum, that's all."

Slap!

Oh, God.

"Intense, isn't it?" His chin sits in the crook of your neck. Aizawa watched you stutter after his hand and gently convulse.

Slap!

Your body hums like a Ford Mustang at a stop light. It lurched into each tap—tipping over the crosswalk markings in the concrete, eager and desperate for him to take you over the edge. Nervous foot on the petal, it waited for green.

"Come on, pretty girl. Almost there."

Slap!

Your thighs snap shut. Pleasure so soft and sweet spreads throughout your body. The ache becomes ecstasy, and the guilt becomes glee. It swells and sways like storm clouds in New Orleans, easily hitting your lungs and filling you with the finest summer rain.

Did you think for a second Aizawa wouldn't praise you? "Yes, kitten. Yes, kitty." He's agreeing with all your sobbed gibberish, rubbing you out because he knows you won't. His finger is hard on your clit when you buck and shimmy to escape the rush—the pleasure that won't stop knocking. Again, he won't take you past what you can handle, but you're riding that coaster to the end: no stops or pauses. You're getting every single clench, every tooth-chattering, leg-shaking, hip-raising flood of absolute 'God, yes,' that follows.

Aizawa was a decent man—was. It's wrong. It goes against every code, the oath he'd taken with the acceptance of his license. He made excuses for the inexcusable. Every day he went out and fought for freedom while ignoring yours. Swift on his legs when avenging the cries of the innocent, Shouta let yours fall on deaf ears.

Hanzo

Hnng. But forced cunnilingus. Dubcon, only because you're overstimulated, and Hanzo is stubborn. If you haven't squirted, he hasn't done his job. He had his pride as a man to uphold.

Hanzo raises your hand to his lips. He kisses it, clasps it, and restrains it to the bed. "Let me tend to you. So long as you warm my bed, you won't lift a finger." He kissed your neck and collarbone. "Not for your pleasure," Hanzo gently spread your labia. "Not for mine. This time it is for you, my queen."

A shiver runs down your spine. Your mind fills itself with visions of Hanzo taking you. He never has—claimed he could never 'defile' you. That didn't stop him from fingering your clit, drawing you to orgasm, or turning you into a mess of nerve endings.

"You are divine." You're a gift from the gods. Hanzo prayed they would keep him from succumbing to temptation, but it was useless. He had never been able to resist a challenge, and this time would be no different. His prayers didn't stop his cock from sliding against his expensive sheets, wishing it were your body his seed had coated, giving the legacy he'd spent a lifetime chasing.

His queen enjoyed testing him, denying him his duty as a husband. Why trouble yourself with matters such as these when he is so capable? He had solved many puzzles and navigated treacherous waters with ease, yet she seemed to think his skills were limited to a bow and arrow. Do you truly believe he cannot satisfy your needs?

Hanzo fondled your clitoris. "This is a husband's duty."

He moved down between your thighs.

"This is a wife's duty." He said as you whimpered. "To moan as a man pleasures you. To lie back and know your body is in his hands. To take your pleasure and offer your own." His tongue found you. You writhed against the bed, unable to stop your body's rhythm from matching his tongue's motions.

"Allow me." Hanzo touched your clit the way you'd tried to, his tongue deep in your core.

You wouldn't know the first thing about settling your body's aches. That was Hanzo's business. Your hands need only grab onto his hair when it all becomes too much for you.

Hanzo is skilled with a tongue, with a cock, with a razor-edged sword.

"Let me tend to what is mine."

Hanzo kisses your thighs, thighs that a man has never kissed. Thighs that tremble and shake so terribly you fear for your health. You can't breathe. Your heart is pounding, and you feel your mind slipping away. Colors bleed into the corner of your vision, static and buzzing like an old TV.

But Hanzo keeps kissing, licking. Your thoughts slur, and your tongue is no better.

'an...H-han.. c'n.. cn't... Your eyes roll—your back arches. Tears run into your hairline; Hanzo tightens his grip on your hand as your other one blindly scrabbles at his bedsheets. "H-han! Z-z—Oh, my God..." A wash of electricity ravaged your body. Pleasure so raw and sweet your voice croaks out hoarsely, love pouring from your lips in a flood of passionate syllables.

His grasp remains firm as you jerk into his waiting tongue. You try not to. You try and fight your body's natural curl toward the very thing bathing it in pleasure—foolish woman. Hanzo tongued harder and doubled his hold to keep you pinned throughout your cries and gurgles.

Cry for me, my Goddess, my queen, so I may worship you harder. Seek my hand if you are overwhelmed. Cling to me. I promise to be your source of strength and comfort. Security is the least of a husband's duties. Make me strive for the breath of freedom, then deny it to me all at once. Show me with cries that I am worthy, yet prove with the heat in your thighs that I am nothing.

Unable to praise you to the extent he'd like, Hanzo returned your moans from deep between your clenched thighs. He licks harder and faster, and he just isn't stopping. You deserve all this and more—to drown in your own wet and swallow hard enough to see heaven.

So beautiful. —Lick— So generous to me, my queen.

Your body is a waterfall that Hanzo would happily kneel underneath. Hanzo was no Buddhist, but he believed you could purify his wretched soul. In you, he'd find redemption. Your heat could make a blind man see. Surely, it could cleanse the stain of his past.

No matter how many passes his tongue made, you had more to give.

You scratch his sheets, and Hanzo has never been so jealous. The skin of his back tingles at the mere thought of hovering above you, thrusting into you - warm, soft, and perfect as you carve into his back and warm his ear with your crying breaths.

You can feel your breath swelling, becoming a low chant of pleasure as Hanzo continues to lap at the valley between your hips. Hanzo rewards your pussy for each hungry gulp as it comes and comes and comes by flicking his tongue over its pounding entrance. Wildly twitching, it swallowed deep and hungry—a trail of wet escaped. Hanzo licked that too.

"Can't… Hanzo, can't…." You reach out desperately for the headboard, using the bed covers to help propel you forward. When this failed, you mustered all of your strength and used your core to drive yourself forward, shoving his head with a surprising force. With each attempt, you inched closer and closer toward freedom.

His hand grabs at your waist, pulling you towards him as he licks and sucks. You can feel yourself trembling on the edge of something big—an adventure you aren't ready to take.

Hanzo watches you above your knees; he looks you in the eyes as you gasp and wheeze. You plead, and the archer licks your outer lips. Hanzo sucks your clit, hums. Your words gargle in the back of your throat.

The hand in his hair turns into a fist. Hanzo moaned.

At some point, he mumbled in your folds, snippets of "goddess" and "queen" as his hips repeatedly struck the mattress. The groans he's making have your ovaries flushing, your cunt fluttering. Hanzo's panting by the end, but he doesn't stop licking.

Hanzo, for all his dignity and grace, wants you to put him on his knees. Make him work and beg for air. Then, smother him.

Can you imagine Hanzo pinning you to the bed, claiming he's wronged you and needs to atone? You can scream that you forgive him, that it's unnecessary, but he won't accept it. What good is forgiveness if he doesn't earn it?

Or, he goes down on you before every Overwatch mission to "strengthen his mind and body" to better prepare.

"H-Hanzo. Why—" You bit your finger to keep from moaning (squirming). You don't need any bruises. Your hips still bear the thick shape of his fingers.

"Why not just—ah!—just train more?"

"You are the only meditation I need."

Hanzo’s bed once filled itself with women from all walks of Asia. Sojiro filled his bed with women from all walks of Asia. Differing accents, differing traditions. Same economic status. None of them would have been good enough for his father. The thirst for an heir may not have originally been his own, but the need still burned beneath his painted skin. The dragons grew restless, for Hanzo’s desire was their own. The dragon lord had never truly given up on his future children.

Unconsciously plays into your worship kink

Step on him

Physically a virgin, spiritually a whore

Not inexperienced, per se. The terms by which Hanzo lost his virtue weren't his own, so Hanzo ignored them.

Vanilla in theory and theory alone. Missionary, no anal. Ever. But he'd clean his spend from your 'temple' (inside and out) in gratitude and penance. First, for deeming him worthy of such a privilege. Second, for dirtying you and finishing without your consent.

He's kneeled at your feet, kissing them and offering his sacrifice.

It's all amusement and spectacle until he asks what punishment you deem suitable for his transgression.

Is he serious? You came three times in the last forty minutes.

You should be at his feet. You could never cum like that on your own.

Hanzo decides for you

You're shuffling off the bed when he reaches for his bow

He expects you to use honorifics after his name. You are his wife, and he is your husband. You must address him with respect.

Call him 'lord Hanzo' in jest, and the archer closes in on himself. Memories of a life he'd long abandoned close in on all sides. He kindly asks that you don't tease him in such ways. You know nothing of his past. Hanzo doesn't blame you for his reaction to your words; you only meant to play with him, as a wife should. Humor, and not ridicule. (Not that he thought himself undeserving of it. If a divine creature decided he needed humbling, who was he to feel any different?

Hanzo shies from titles that place him above you, "master, King, God, etc."

Jesse McCree

"Now," Jesse stood with his hands resting on his belt, the light from its buckle glinting off into your eyes and reflecting the terror you felt. His hips tilt to one side as he observes you silently. "Why doncha tell me again what you were hopin' to accomplish with them tiny little hands o' yours."

Panic flashed in your eyes because Jesse widened his stance and raised his hands.

You still scramble further up the bed.

"Nah, ya ain't in trouble," Jesse said as he removed his hat and tossed it on the side of your dresser. Always mindful of Ma's etiquette lessons, Jesse knew better than to enter a lady's room wearing his hat. Was impolite. You don't enter a lady's room 'less you come naked. "Pity she didn't teach me to knock," he added with a smile.

Confusion twisted your features. Jesse often said things that you weren't sure how to interpret.

His slow smile told you he was a man looking out after his own. It made your heart beat faster. He wasn't here to hurt you.

"Just show Uncle Jesse what you were up to 'fore I came in." He moved closer, the bed frame squeaking beneath his boots. "Lemme see what you got," he said. Jesse reached out, and you flinched.

But his hands only brushed a finger across your cheek, pushing away a strand of hair. "Ya got somethin' special in those hands," he said gently as his fingers pressed against your skin.

You become aware of the hands covering your modesty. You glance at your bare thighs out of habit when Jesse references the heat between them.

"Come on now, don't get all bashful," He said before you could try to hide under the blankets. You had a way of scurrying off like a little mole whenever he teased you too much. Shy, sweet, and gentle. He could eat you up for days.

"Show me how ya touch 'er when you're all alone."

You pull your cami over your thighs to deter those mocha-brown eyes. Jesse raised a brow that was just as dark. "Ya ain't got nothin' to hide, girl. I already seen it all." He said. Good-natured, southern charm oozed from his every sentence. Yet, you still felt like you were standing in the principal's office and caught doing something wrong.

But Jesse smiled as though what he said was meant to make you feel better. He leaned down, kissing your forehead as if it were the world's most natural thing.

"I'm… I'm loud.." Your knees draw together.

His smile was lopsided. "Good thing all the gunfire and explosions drown out hearing." He said, referencing the hearing aids he wore in his ears.

Did you think a little thing like that would ever be a problem? Bless your sweet little heart.

You weren't sure what to say. 'I'm sorry?' Would he think you're pitying him?

But he just let out a chuckle and shook his head. "Don't sweat it, sugar." A large palm ruffled your hair affectionately. "Now, why don't you show Uncle Jess what you were playin' with?" He asked again, his voice a little more playful this time.

"You..you really can't hear?" You fidgeted with the hem of your cami, not wanting to make eye contact.

His grin widened, "Not a thing." Jessie lied. "I'll even take 'em out if ya want." He started to take off his hearing aids, but you stopped him.

"No, no! That's... That's not necessary." You said quickly.

"Well, alright then." He said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"How's 'bout you let this old cowboy have that weapon yer holdin'?"

Weapon?

"Oh, she's lethal." Jesse winced playfully. "One could take out a man if it's aimed properly."

"She?" You asked, curious.

Jesse held back the brunt of his laughter. "Yer pussy, sugar. It's a she."

Your expression has him losing his composure. He had the courtesy to turn away and chuckle. The insult on your face had him in stitches.

"Well, shoot." He said after a while, finally managing to compose himself. "I ain't mean to make no fun of ya. Just thought you'd like to know your kitty got a name."

Your body ran hot, and your heart thumped against your chest. You can't believe how Jesse made you feel with just a few words and one little joke. You could see the mischievous glint in his eyes and knew he would make you squirm again.

"Respectfully, I'm gonna need to see those hands of yours." He said, that same southern gentleness in his voice like before.

Jesse whistled as your hands lifted, low and appreciative.

"I'll be damned..." You're sweet enough to top his apple pie. If he had it, Jesse would've held his hat to his chest; those thighs could carry him through the Arizona desert.

"You can take my breath away any day," Jesse said with a grin. He drank those thighs ten times over before they'd self-consciously shut. He was drunk on you as he was on moonshine.

"Hands back on your holster. Show me how you use it."

With his boot planted firmly on the mattress, brown eyes staring you down, you touched yourself. You'd jumped at the first brush of a hesitant finger against the peach fuzz clothing your mons—prickly and on its way to growing—cold fingers startling skin that hardly ever felt a temperature change. You've never been more thankful for those stubborn hairs that always grew back despite your best efforts. It offered a level of decency—privacy—during a private act made public. You map your vulva, getting a feel for it. Your legs spread as you become more comfortable with the movements and sensations that kiss you nightly when the house is sleep—as comfortable as you could be with a man like Jesse McCree looming over you.

You were very aware of him—his presence, his smell. You could feel him in your veins as you touched yourself, and he watched. He dared not move a muscle lest it scared you off.

The situation might be foreign, but the sweetness in your abdomen isn't. The toe-curling warmth made you want to rock and hum into its beautiful calm. It took the stress out of a very stressful situation. How odd to find yourself tense in the middle of your go-to stress relief.

You moved with clinical precision, not for pleasure but to show Jesse you weren't helpless. You felt like the Tin Man—joints stiff, robotic, and locking together when thoughts of what you were doing and in front of whom caught up to you. The need to defend yourself from any infantilism oiled them and kept them going. Your breath gets heavier as the pleasure builds inside of you, regardless.

Could you even cum like this?

Doubtful.

There wasn't anything too exciting about tracing up and down your lips, still wet from the 'exercise,' Jesse interrupted. Your clit still pulsed despite cologne tickling your nose like spice (or maybe because of it).

He was so close.

With the scent of tobacco and leather on his clothes, Jesse Mccree had your undivided attention. You can't look at him, but the thought of staring into those deep brown eyes while you circled your clit and cried the prettiest you could make you swallow down below. Your clit throbs, and you massage it before you can stop yourself. You play with the hood, fragile and unsure. It isn't enough, but you don't want to appear indecent. God, if only you could throw open your legs and—

"That ain't how ya do it. Touchin' 'er like that, bet you don't even know what she's called."

Of course, you do. It's a vagina. Not a 'her,' not a 'she.' You told him so.

"Aw, now. You'll hurt 'er feelings. Tell me what you call 'er, darl.'"

"It… it's my vagina." You emphasize the word 'it.'

Jesse shook his head. Shoulda knew you'd call 'er somethin' dull and childish.

"Move aside, sugar." Jesse motioned for you to stand. A cigarillo was all that was needed to complete the toothy grin as he sat, cybernetic hand hitting his thigh. "Come sit on Papa's lap. He's gon' show ya what she's for. How to touch 'er."

You stood uncertain before him, blanket held to your sex. The red fabric pooled between your legs and onto the floor.

"I don't bite, sugar." He said. It's the softest you'd ever heard him.

Your lips thin to a pensive line.

This is a bad idea. But the prospect of this man sipping you like he did his whiskey was thrilling.

You look past him toward his hat on the dresser, and the blanket drops. So do Jesse's eyes. But that grin? It stretches to something boyish, handsome, and white. He savors, just as you'd hoped; he savored himself so fully your legs ache to cross over each other. He's fixated on your vagina. You hope he can't see it swallow.

"This is your little pussy." Jesse spread you open with two fingers. You squirm on his thick thighs. He's mountainous and warm against your back; you hardly cover two-thirds of his broad chest. He must spray cologne directly on it. Woodsy Pine and Old Spice took you to a campfire with marshmallows and Southern folklore. You don't think about the chestnut hairs peeking out of his flannel. You can't. You'll die.

"This is your pretty little pussy." He rubbed your fatty, wet lips with four fingers—rough and widened in a V-shape.

Your vag—your pussy clenches, tingly.

"You may have touched 'er before," He swiped your clit side-to-side, hitting nerve endings that had you bucking on his tan, human finger. "but I'll teach you how to spoil 'er." He dipped one deep inside.

"And fill 'er up."

Your cries are as helpless as your hips as they help him fuck your pussy open. He stretches her so good you can't recall when you began referring to her as a she. You fuck yourself on his fingers until pleasure gushes from your cunt.

An involuntary gasp escapes your lips as he collects his first load in his fingers. You're there.

"You wanna cum, and I can make it happen, sugar." Jesse held you as you shook. Robotic arm slung over your waist, he let you use his finger to draw out your end. He pumped into you occasionally—lazy and matching your weakening thrusts.

"Ain't nothin' wrong with bein' greedy. Uncle Jesse will let ya have seconds if ya want 'em."

You just keep goin', doncha? You're a lil fighter—pushin' those shuddery hips forward even as you gasp and choke.

Ya weren't lyin'. Yer loud. Not in a cutesy way, either. You're raw, unapologetic.

Jesse loves it.

Nothin' worse than a woman who does all that dainty shit.

You cried so long and hard your voice tapered into a husk.

"These fingers were made for women. Made for touchin' 'em." Any internalized shame blew in the wind when Jesse used his thumb to swipe your sensitive clit. You groan like a cavewoman. Guttural, primal.

"Made for makin' 'em come. You gonna come for me again?"

You're already trembling, unable to get your tongue working as you tighten on his fingers.

"There ya go, sugar. Cum like I'm gettin' it in. Goin' six inches deep and cummin' hard on 'er lips." Jesse pumped his fingers deep again as you began panting, panicking—he was insistent on getting you off—a knot of orgasm tightened in your waist until you snapped like a whip against your backside and seized.

"Ain't nothing wrong with cryin'."

You can't stop shaking. Crying. Tears fall off your chin, and you don't know where they came from. At this moment, you're a helpless baby—wailing and hoping he understands. You need him to fuck the soul from your body. You need him to stop.

"I've got somethin' of a confession," Mccree said, his drawl thickening with each syllable. The thumb on your clit sent his words through one ear and out the other. He's knuckle-deep in your cunt and seated near your pleasure spot as he slowly curls into it. You curl with him, hot and whining.

"I may be aurally challenged, but I can still hear you, sugar." You're drooling in every figurative sense—mentally and emotionally sloshed from the pump of his heavy fingers. "Every time you whisper my name at night." He said, his tone low and warm.

Your thighs clamp around his hand.

Fiery shame swept like lava and left coals on your chest, leaving you with prickly, uncomfortable goosebumps.

Oh, now we can't have that.

You've stopped chasing his hand, chasin' that release you'd wanted so bad.

A gentleman, Jesse puts in enough work for both of you. If you aren't meetin' him, he'll have to try that much harder, won't 'e?

God, what would your family think? They'd shun you. Getting off to thoughts of your captor's big, impossibly wide hands instead of biting them.

This needs to stop.

Oh, but you can't. You're grinding on his finger again, helpless to stop. It's so good. It's too fucking good.

"That's it. Get it, sugar." Jesse starts flying in and out of your thighs. Something coughs from your throat like a drowned victim spitting up water. You grab his wrist for stability and don't make it halfway around.

"That's what I like to fuckin' see," Jesse growled.

Fuck it. You'd let him pull your panties aside and cream your pussy right there on your bed with your family in the doorway for them to see every desperate clench it made, each spasm in the base of his cock as it emptied inside their precious daughter, sister, and loved one. They could watch the conception of their grandchild and niece/nephew for all you care.

"Jesse! Oh god. Feels good!"

"Sounds even better up close." Mccree chuckled. Breathy, strained. As if it'd come through gritted teeth. His cock pressed into your ass—hard and hot. He made no attempts to relieve it.

"You come to Uncle Jesse when your pussy needs some lovin', ya hear?"

He pulled out, leaving you so, so empty.

You quickly nodded. No, no. Please put it back! He'd stopped touching your clit.

Jesse doesn't leave you empty much longer now that he has an answer. "You let ol' Jess handle it. I'll give the lil lady what she wants."

You're too damn polite. Callin' 'im 'sir.' He ain't no 'sir.' Jesse would tell you to stop if he ain't like it so much.

He pretends to hate it, gives you grief about it, but let you come 'round askin' for somethin'. Jesse stops you mid-sentence and tells you to call 'im that thing he likes.

"Come on, honey. You'll make me feel old."

Your name might as well be 'pretty.'

"C'mere, pretty. Wanna show ya somethin' real quick."

Toji Fushiguro

It's one of those days.

Toji stood in your doorway, an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth. He had a can of beer in his left hand and a race ticket in the other. You should be happy to see him. There's no milk, and your stomach could grow teeth and devour. Your heart drops instead. The paper had as many wrinkles as a white shirt straight from the dryer. Crumpled, meaning he'd lost. The one Toji wore was stretched and spent. He hadn't come home last night. A sour odor of alcohol told you why. Toji celebrated his losing streaks with bottles of sake at the bar. Usually, he'd be out looking for a job to 'make up what he lost,' as he'd always promised.

The hunt must've been unsuccessful if he had been back so soon.

Toji was bitter before he'd even come in the door. Catching you with your fingers in your pajama pants put him over the edge.

"What ya doin' touchin' what's mine?"

Toji scoffed when you continued giving him that owlish stare.

"Y'think I'm good for nothin', dont'cha." His posture remains loose and bored, his tone detached. The slip crinkled in his balled fist.

This isn't going to end well.

"Of course no—"

"You ain't gotta lie, Seven."

Toji was more superstitious than met the eye. He set you up in his home like a Maneki-Neko for good luck and fortune, laughable.

You aren't lucky. Trouble raced after you like tin cans on an exhaust pipe, with your situation to prove it.

Trouble stepped further into your room—swept across your floor like tumbleweed, kicking the ground with every slow, drunken step. Trouble knelt on your bed, knocked your plushies off to the side, and snatched your arm when you scurried.

"Y'think I'm a deadbeat." Trouble pulled you under him and ripped your pajamas off your hurling legs. His triceps bulged beneath his tee as his hips rolled into your cunt, wet and bare. He held you still to take each stubborn, mouth-watering rut. "Think I can't take care of ya anymore."

Toji's still beating the headboard into the wall as you quake around his thighs. Frantic hands tear at his upper back, tugging his shirt for him to go harder despite the worrying cracks and splinters of wood.

"'m gon' prove you wrong." Toji put his weight on his elbows and fucked you like he meant it. He'd buck forward and knock your eyes to your skull.

'God, yes,' is all you can think as he presses you into the mattress and shoves into you until you can't get air. 'More, more, more.'

"Gonna make you cum so hard you wet yourself," he growled in your ear. "Gonna make you scream and cry." And he did.

"Oh God, Toji!"

Toji rabbits at the first sign of tears. "I'm gonna fuck you right to hell."'

"Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God, oh—uhn!"

Spleck!

Your thighs squeeze and judder into his cock. Wetness dribbles past your lips regardless of how tightly you clench your legs. You cum hard—the spasms in your cunt deep and violent. So fucking slutty and messy.

"God!" The word tore from your throat in a ragged sob. Feral. Hysterical.

There's no way you should clamp this fiercely. It's been so long Toji let you tighten up. He needed to stretch you back out. This pussy should be loose and sticky always. A constant fullness to fill the pangs and help you forget your troubles.

You wanna be fucked.

You wanna be bred.

"A little girl like you don't know what you're doin'." Toji got between your thighs and licked you from slick perineum to juicy clit.

"Says you." In your head, you're pushing his face deeper into your sex, hand in his hair as you grind on his tongue. 'Show me, baby; show me. Show me what I'm too stupid to do.'

Toji eats you alive.

His fingers brush up your bum while he tongues you into orgasm. Toji piles your juices on his fingers and licks them clean, again and again.

"Lookit how excited she gets." Toji rests on his knees. The crotch of his sweatpants is a darker shade of black and damp from your sex.

"She can't quit talkin'." Spasming, spitting, and wetting.

His cock is visible, sitting on his lower left thigh, right above his knee. A footpath of the same dark shade runs down his left pant leg.

Did he cum? Did he cum just from eating you out? Was that fat, ruddy cockhead drooling over the very hint of your sex when he'd rutted against you before?

There's something so primal about him kneeling over you, your juices on his tongue, his cock jutting out so proudly, hung like a horse between your thighs. It makes you aware of just how filthy this whole act is, how raw.

You can smell yourself on him, and your legs self-consciously close.

"Still think you know how to get this pussy to clamp as she should?" Toji's voice was low and gruff.

"No." You whimpered.

"Then why the fuck are you playing with my clit?"

"I wasn't playing with it! I was just..."

"You won't even squeeze your thighs together without askin' when I'm finished," his lips close around your clit.

Toji licks every slippery skin fold and nibbles your clit until it's throbbing. You fuck his mouth with your hips, desperate. You reach deep, guttural tones no woman should.

Would nut if you called him 'sir.'

Call him 'sir,' and he'll call you 'ma'am.' Especially in bed. It's shamelessly kinky, given the age gap between you. Might just call you mommy if you're okay with it. You're still under your parent's insurance and barely have a driver's license. Your wisdom teeth haven't come in, and here this forty-year-old man was calling you mommy.

And if you are? Agreeable with it, that is? Toji does his best to make you one.

He missed out on Megumi. Thoughts of another child hadn't crossed his mind until he was deep in your green, twenty-something pussy calling you mommy in that aged murmur.

You love everything he's saying. "Gon' fuck a baby into your teenage pussy—get you pregnant." Toji liked to poke at your age. He'd call you a teenager when you're particularly difficult. Little girls can't talk to me like that. Those nights remained the same. Toji fucked you on the floor and bred you until you couldn't speak. Cum ran from your entrance in a thin, constant stream. Milky, thick-flowing, and filthy. You just need some good lovin'; that's all it is—needed attention. You didn't know how to ask for it without pitchin' a fit like a child.

Make-up sex where he'd hold your hands as your thighs shook. Toji made up for leaving the cabinets empty by leaving your thoughts emptier. Cramming you six inches full of excess and relief, Toji filled you over and over until debt became greed. He's slow, thorough—men his age typically were. Toji was no boy. Wasn't in no hurry to finish. Thrusting between your hips, deep and thick in your cunt and inches from your face, Toji murmured, "'m gon' set it right."

You love what he's saying so much your appreciation lands on the base of his cock and lower abdomen as you squirt. "Dirty little girl. Dirty teenage pussy, begging for her senpai's cum." He burns right through your chest.

The words, "What are you going to do about it?" sit on your tongue.

"Gonna breed that pussy good. Gon' get you pregnant. Get you knocked up." Toji tugs your legs up higher, pulling you into his body as he snaps his hips. He thrusts into you, quick and hard.

Give it to me, give it to me. Put a baby in me. Oh, God, fuck me!

"Pussy'll be so sweet with my cum between those pretty, swollen lips. Might just eat it. Might have to. Might be all the sugar I need."

Muscles jump in your lower belly. Toji grinned above you, rotten, when your pussy quivered. Toji is feral when he gets his face between your legs, unlike any man you've met. The enthusiasm for your pleasure as he dug, sucked, licked, and scraped with his tongue (all while his right hand held your slippery cunt open for him to discipline and drink down) was primal and terrifying. It had you there in minutes. He had no direction, no idea, and no technique. All he had was the hell-driven desire to please you—make you come fast and hard 'many times as he could before his tongue gave out.

Every little thing you told him to do. That's all he had. You asked for more, and he gave it. You tell him to scratch that itch between your thighs, and he knows exactly what that means—squeezing his cock into your too-small ass. From there, all you did was tell him what you wanted, and he performed like a dog with a bone.

Toji wasn't above holding you down so that you took your pleasure on his face, fingers, and lips.

No, this dog took every ounce of his strength and overpowered your body to ensure he got his pound of flesh. What sorta man was he if he couldn't please his woman? An embarrassment, that's what. You ain't gonna insult him and walk away with steady legs.

"Gonna ride that pussy, make it mine."

Ride me, baby. Oh, God, yes!

Toji hunkers over you—that thick, heady scent of sweat, cologne, and body heat. He smells good. "Bet this teenage cunt loves feeling like it's mature, getting filled and stretched into a mommy's pussy." He's telling you how you'll look so good with your freshly creamed pussy.

Wanna be slutty for you. Make this pussy creamy.

"Gon' get that cervix wet. You'd better drink up, girl."

God, you'll drink every last white drop of it. You're already spasming.

"There she goes talkin'. Swallowin’. She's thirsty." Toji tilts your face towards him. "Boy or girl? Which one ya like?"

You struggle—feebly pressing his chest with jellied wrists to get him up and off of you. Out of you. You have to keep yourself from melting outward and running onto the sheets when he snatches you up in his arms as if you were nothing and hemmed you to the bed, hemmed you to his chest in a bear hug, and fucked you. He caged you beneath him and held you there. You’re held down and bred. Pre-cum drooled out of you onto the pillow like the real thing. Each thrust sent your hips violently into him, bobbing, circling, and returning to meet him as you rubbed your slick folds against his cock when it slipped out. He had you humping his wet dick like a bitch in heat. That was you on him. He's covered in you. He hugged you so hard that the bed felt like a paper bag under you.

"Ain't no running. Y'gon' take this dick. Take this apology."

"Don't! Don't—" The fight to free your arms was heavy and impossible as he lined himself up just as quickly as he'd left. Eager to fill. Eager to please. Hands trapped between your sweaty bodies, you settle for pushing against his stifling weight despite rising to help him resettle himself. And God, do you feel like home. Comforting, warm. He can already smell Ma's cooking. Slick, like the blood of his bounties. 'Specially when his bosses demanded a trophy as proof of his service.

White. All you see are the whites of his eyes as Toji's cock overfilled you to bursting, assisted by your curved spine and lofted hips.

He does it so gently—sliding into you like a Spanish kiss. Indulgent. Letting you admire the breadth of him, the ridge of cockhead that made your walls flutter and sing as it moved through you like drugs flooding a bloodstream, peddling euphoria throughout every corner of your body until you were floating and light in the giddy breeze of his possession. He looks demonic, possessed. Your cunt groaned from how full it was, glutted. Feel-good chemicals left you gooey and barely conscious as he stroked into you, exactly where you needed him and weren't ready for him. The deep grinds into your G-spot had you losing your breath, but he wouldn't stop. He wouldn't stop fucking you.

Uhhhn, God. Your eyes flutter. Your walls squeeze him against your will. You could kiss him.

"N-noooo, you can't. Don't cum in my pussy." You moaned. "Don't—hnn!—don' cum..." Your arms close around his waist, hips arching and rocking like you couldn't decide what you wanted more, to push him off of you or get creampied in one go. Bred.

"Mommy, ya gotta tell me." Your pussy clamps. Fissures of resistance disappear like they never existed when Toji calls you "mommy" like it's a sin. He's whispering dirty in your ear as if he knew your secrets. As if he knew you were two pumps and one shuddery male moan away from pleading the exact opposite.

"Tell me, Mommy, so I can do it for you." Toji's voice had gone sugary-sweet and deep.

But no...no. Nnn. No. "You… can't...do that." It's cheating. He's cheating.

"Tell me how you want this baby."

God, it just feels so good. You want him to cream you. Breed you. You like the fantasy of it all (it gets you wetter than anything), but he isn't financially stable, and you're no mother.

"We can't! Not 'nough money." Your lips don't sing lullabies. They sang heartache and blues. Emotionally immature and mentally thin, you're no mother. The slightest inconvenience, and you're ready to cannonball off a bridge.

"Ain't what I asked ya." Toji put you in a headlock. Ears hot and pounding, you twist and thrash as best you can underneath him. He doesn't leave you much room to grapple—still bearing down on you with all his strength and thrusting. 'Overwhelming' couldn't begin to capture the wave of shivers washing over you. Toji scratches that itch inside of you so good it nearly hurts. God, it's good—the beating he gives that secret, special place you can never reach alone. Where fingers clench into knots, your womb feels like a fever. You're in heaven. Your thighs burn from all that friction. You're in hell. Your body wants nothing more than to let out a primal scream as you battle to cope with the intensity. It takes you a few moments to realize you are—hollering in absolute hysteria. You unclench your fingers long enough to shove fruitlessly at his chest, claw at his arms and pelvis.

The thick arms caging your head tighten. "Answer. Or I’ll put one in your backside."

"Girl!" You shouted—voice rough and strangled behind his grip.

"A lil princess just like 'er Mama." Toji bucked into you, closing his eyes with a groan. When they opened, they stared down at your hostile mouth. If there was one body part of yours Toji was fascinated by, it was your lips.

He's been staring at them while he fucked you, lust in his eyes. Toji watched them threaten and plead.

"You get off me, or I'll—" Your words clung thickly together, dragged in places they shouldn't as if they were moaned.

"I'll..." Your lashes fall to your cheeks as Toji moves down, nose rumbling softly with steamy breath as he latches onto a nipple and sucks.

Your cunt swallowed and sang; you rose to meet his next push. The way his tongue and teeth work together on that sensitive spot is enough to make you light-headed.

"I'll..."

Toji stared at you, expression unreadable as ever. "You'll what, Mommy?"

He watched 'em gasp and form his name. He needed 'em. Needed 'em more than his own mother's rotted eyes.

"You'll cum?" He ground into you, and you gasped.

"Yes." You wrapped your arms and legs around him. God, your skin was on fire.

Toji released your breast and latched onto your mouth instead, groaning against your lips. His tongue flicked inside, and you opened wide.

"H-harder. Toji, I'm—"

Ughn!

Toji hits it like he couldn't miss—rutting, grinding, and humping into that sacred spot. Your kiss had him rabbiting and murmuring, moaning, and biting. He was gasping. He was growing—swelling at the base of his cock. He was coming apart.

Seeing you thoroughly enjoy yourself and falling apart on his cock has Toji's hips faltering. Mama's never yelled for 'im quite like that before. He had mama screamin', had 'er eyes rollin' back. Had her thrusting on his cock like she wanted her green, little pussy filled—wanted his kid.

"Sound so good, Mommy." He's coming already, eyes shut as the first few spurts escape him. Toji's thrusts deepen each time you moan. He'd shiver, pushing hard into your g-spot. He spoiled it for every hunger pain while he was away.

"Hands." His voice shook with effort—the physical strain of staving himself off.

When you don't immediately respond, Toji's head rests on your shoulder—miserable like an old dog. "y'know I can't cum without 'em. Know I need 'em."

His breaths come in rough pants. "I'm gonna cum, Mommy. Imma go right up your pussy and spill my seed."

"Toji—" You squirm, "Toji, don't!" You'd damn near drooled as the first squirt of hot cum hit your pussy, unconsciously bucking into him for the umpteenth time.

You beg Toji not to cum inside you, hugging him and pumping those hips all the while. Desperately, at that. A man's gotta wonder.

"Let me apologize, mama," he said between labored breaths. "Let me give you this baby." His fingers pry into yours, clutching them against the mattress as he rutted and sighed into you. "Let me."

"No." You fight. "No, no, no, no, no! No. Don't!"

His thrusts pick up as you try and wrangle free.

"I forgive you, Toji! I forgive—"

Toji licked into your mouth, grabbed onto your hips, and emptied himself in a long, thick stream. He shivered in your arms through spurts and convulsions, letting you swallow his shuddered alphabet of husky groans.

You can't help but buck into each warm shot of his seed. You're a whore. And you're tired of pretending you're not.

You're still moaning for him not to cum inside you as he does just that, pushed up against your G-spot, gently grinding you toward an orgasm of your own.

He could've positioned himself at your cervix and got all nice and snug, but then he would've missed the sleepy look on your face. Eyelids hung low, mouth parted—sated, full, and still working that pussy against him, swallowing miserably around him because it hasn't cum. She will. He'll show ya he ain't useless, that he's good for somethin'.

Besides, they'll swim. He doesn't need to be lined up to hit a target. It'll be fine once you're shiverin' against him; you'll send 'em right where they need to be.

"Please don't, sir." You said, still thrusting through the zips and tapering shocks of your orgasm. Your arms are helpless, bumbling, and unresponsive.

'Sirs' nice and all, but he'd prefer 'Mister.'

Author’s Note: This was Valentine's gift for myself and I decided to share it. If this performs well, I'll finish the second installment. The next part will feature Erasermic, Bob Velseb, Daddy Dearest, Mommy Mearest, and a fourth character I haven't decided on.

Tips: Please consider tipping if you're well-fed. It would incentivize me to keep sharing. https://ko-fi.com/pumpknpie

©️pumpkin-pi-e | Do not copy, edit, paraphrase, plagiarize, translate, or borrow from my work. I do not give my consent for any of my works to be reposted. I only write on Tumblr. Should you find this anywhere else, please alert me because it was stolen.

For your listening pleasure:

The title was based on the song below.

Do Not Interact - Writers and blogs who actively write white-coded reader inserts (blush, turn red, a flush of color). I can’t eat at your table, and I don’t want you at mine. You will be blocked. Blank blogs will also be blocked.

#yandere Aizawa x reader #yandere Hanzo Shimada x reader #hanzo smut #yandere Jesse McCree x reader #yandere Cole Cassidy x reader #yandere Toji Fushiguro x reader #toji smut #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere overwatch #yandere bnha #😍yandere #<- Block this tag if you don’t want to see dark content #yandere smut #they’re soft yanderes tho #Spotify

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