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geminai-rambling-trinkets · 6 months

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PUPPET AU

Summary: An AU surrounding a mysterious purple haired boy with green tips and pupils that sometimes look like buttons! Oh, and can't forget about the creepy doll this boy takes everywhere and I mean everywhere.

HELLO EVERYONE! I'M BACK AGAIN WITH ANOTHER MIDORIYA AU! However, this time with puppets. :D

Trigger Warnings here though because this AU is very messed up and bloody.

🚨 T.W.: Ambiguous Interpretations of Love, Character Deaths, Denials, Identity Theft, Mentions of Blood, Body Possession, Gore, Memory Gaps, Negligence, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Psychotic Breaks, Pyrophobia, Stalking, Suffocation, and Suicidal Thoughts, Survivor's Guilt, Toxic Love, Messed Up Morals, and Murder.🚨

Plot Points:

Okay, to begin this Dark AU, I will start with Izuku's backstory!

His backstory begins during the beginning of quirks or meta abilities as they were first called. Izuku lived with his mother, Inko, and an ambiguous father, Hisashi. He was 5 then but when the quirk wars started everything went to hell.

Neither Midoriya's were rich but they weren't that poor either. Every once in a while money was a concern but they were satisfied with how they were living.

That is till the quirk wars broke out.

Hisashi, without either Inko or Izuku knowing, joined All for One's side in the war and wanted to drag his family alongside him so, they could get a meta ability like Hisashi, which in no surprise was fire breathing.

Now this is where stuff get messy since there's a sort of timeskip because I haven't had time to think very heavily on it.

So, I'm summarizing, but considering the time and moment I'm talking about, Izuku and Inko are in a war, times are tense, and meta abilities both on opposing sides can get gruesome.

Especially, since Izuku has caught AFO's attention which puts Inko in a tight position. And some background in Inko's character in this AU, she's a qualify trauma nurse, she came from a middle class family, and her family does have a history with mental health.

Inko, in her part, was feeling the pressure of the war as she helped many people, often times neglecting Izuku because of the amount of carnage that has been left behind.

Izuku for this part, tried his best to help his mother and to lessen the burden by behaving quietly. And keep in mind that Izuku is still 5, coming close to 6, Izuku while a bit clueless on what's going on knows that there is danger.

Something bad is happening.

Which leads me to this point in his backstory, the big catalyst. Izuku is 7 this time around and his mother can't handle it anymore. She can't handle the stress, the blood, the meta abilities that target her world. She was already on the brink of her sanity when Izuku hugged her.

It was a simple hug.

Either due to the stress, the trauma, or a combination with her fear of meta abilities, she, in the most vague and subtle themes, "kills" Izuku.

She isn't very responsive when Izuku asks what is she doing but she repeats the words 'Love,' 'I love you,' and 'I hate you.'

And when she does come back to her senses, she's terrified, she couldn't believe she's done this. Izuku is barely holding on to life, when he staring at Inko asking if she meant what she said. She denies it. She tells him she didn't mean to. She didn't mean to hurt him.

And Izuku can still see this; her pain. He hates it. Izuku with what little time he has tells his mother that no matter what he stills loves her. And that when this big war is other they'll both live happily ever after.

Keep in mind the language here.

Inko still denies the fact that Izuku is dead and does something so, mortified here, and that was to stuff her own son into a doll and carry him everywhere. Which is why I put a FNAF reference.

She carried her 'son' everywhere and no one really bat an eye to it but maybe just a bit. It looked wrong and it felt weird.

And at some point in time, an attack happens in the place where Inko was stationed, and in her final moments she tells the doll; she tells her son to 'Stay safe... Be happy... Mommy... loves you.'

That's Izuku backstory, however, we're yet to finish the Quirk Wars section of Izuku's character.

Now, it's during the moment where Inko 'protects' her son and her death that some black goo comes out of the doll.

The black goo gently lays a 'hand' on Inko and 'cries.' The black goo being a part of Izuku that never passed away.

Which is where things get confusing.

Because I was debating on giving Izuku a quirk or not since I wanted an explanation as to why Izuku's spirit remained/how the black goo appeared.

But then I decided, eh, let's reference something I comprehend which was FNAF, now, I'm not going to deep dive into FNAF lore because it's confusing nowadays but I'm referencing it's earlier games.

Which is FNAF 1 and FNAF 2, maybe a bit of FNAF 3.

Now back to Izuku's lore, at some point someone finds Inko's body and sees the doll which the person picks up.

However, when the doll is picked up that's when the black goo reacts.

Again, I'm trying to keep it subtle with the themes, but in short term, the black goo suffocates the person and takes over the body.

This is when Izuku wakes up again, there's no indication of physical change in the person's body per se, however their pupils, very subtly, look like the center of a button, and their hair has hints of green in it.

Is the person dead? Yeah, most definitely.

But what happens to the doll?

The doll, essentially, is Izuku's main body, its 'protector' and Izuku continues to take over people's body because he can't stop body decay.

Which is where we get to the present!!! Yay!!

Now, for clarification reason, Izuku takes over people's body not only because he needs it but out of 'love.'

Whenever, Izuku kills someone he thinks he's doing this out of love. That by killing them he is promising them a better future and that they won't have to worry anymore.

Izuku becomes that person, he lives this person's life whether they be male or female.

He thinks he's doing them a favor and by definition showing his love for them.

Now, remember that when Izuku technically died, he was 7, his "love" is strictly platonic/familial.

His last concrete memories about his life were that his mother was stressed and that he wished he could take away her pain.

Izuku, much like Inko, denies the fact his mother killed him. He refuses because in a messed up way, they both loved each other.

Call it a darker/messed up version of the unconditional love a parent and their child has for each other.

So, he genuinely believes that killing and taking over their life, is showing love, appreciate, and care. That by doing so, he's helping them live a better life by taking the burdens and stress like he tried doing when he was alive.

It's years before someone makes a connection because Izuku tends to bury the bodies of his "family" in beautiful hidden sceneries in his new body.

Heck, he goes as far to put a mini tombstone and list of accomplishments they have done and prays for their reincarnation to live a easier and simpler life.

The only possible reason why he could get caught or have a case is by the black goo that he leaves behind after taking over the body.

The process of taking over a body last a solid 30-40 seconds, Izuku tries to makes it easy and quickly for the person he's trying to show his love for.

Either the police find a body Izuku used as a host or people dig up the grave of that person who went missing suddenly and they always found some traced of black goo leading into an investigation.

Izuku for this part of his story took over the body of one Akatani Mikumo leading to where we begin a new section of his character's story.

Now please keep in mind this is another timeskip because I genuinely was stumped here since I thought of this moment before making a concrete plot point.

"Mikumo" meets someone who after studying his character, personality, etc. was named Aizawa Shōta.

Now this Aizawa is young, a teenager just like Mikumo.

However, Mikumo acts more childish, more playful, more young because again, Izuku was 7 when he died, his spirit didn't age and despite having multiple lives, heck, years, he's forever a 7-year-old. Which definitely doesn't sound familiar to a particular anime I love to reference.

Aizawa found Mikumo odd since he acted like a child and he continues to do so till he figured Mikumo's—I mean Izuku's secret.

This is where the timeskip happens because this part is iffy for me. I haven't thought too much on this part either but I know things will get messy here because not only does Aizawa find this all too fucking creepy, but an investigation, and the ongoing loom of UA's entrance exam come crashing down on him.

So, he's stressed to the fucking max.

Now this timeskip happens when "Mikumo" and Aizawa are in their second-year which we all know is where things get depressing.

And this gets depressing.

Because not only does Aizawa loose Oboro, he loses Mikumo as well.

Now, this timeskip skips over the part where Izuku/Mikumo bond with Aizawa despite the oddity/creepiness/messed-up morals Izuku has.

It was just something about Izuku ('s charisma) that made Aizawa hesitate on giving him away. On letting the police know the culprit because again not only is Aizawa a kid here (by technicality); he's also raw on emotion.

He looses Oboro first before loosing Izuku.

This moral dilemma leads to Izuku's identity being found and for fear to take over.

Now, Izuku's investigation, aka case, was meant to be to catch the culprit/send him to Tartarus, however, after realizing how old Izuku is; how death was probably the only way to truly capture him.

In a rare moment, in time, a kill call gets to be made for Izuku.

Now why do I call it rare? Well, because heroes, in this age and time, learned it was better, by moral standards, to capture the villains then to just kill them.

Also, to progress and learn from the past.

The Quirk Wars were violent, bloody, and quite frankly a dark part of Quirk's history, so, just like in a history class, heroes learn and become better than their ancestors.

Which is why I like to believe that unless the crimes committed are beyond from just being atrocious and or treason, having a villain killed is rarely, if ever an option.

But why does Izuku get a kill call?

To be honest, thinking of this as the creator of this messed up AU, the only true way to "capture" Izuku is via death.

Izuku is basically immortal, the only weak spot he does have is the doll that used to be his body.

And Izuku never parts from the doll; its his doll. His soul. His body. He's tied to this doll with both mind and spirit.

Which is why people find him or any of his host creepy because they see this doll that looks weird, it's old, and it smells odd.

If Izuku looses the doll, he cries and whines, and begs for it to come back to him like a child loosing his or her favorite toy.

And one fact about the doll is that while the doll is part of Izuku's spirit it essentially is its own entity.

It can't really speak because it's a doll but Izuku can have full-blown conversation with it whenever he couldn't make friends.

The doll like I have mentioned is Izuku's protector. It's two entities but one body. Like Ume and Gyutaro.

Which is where we come back to Izuku and Aizawa!

Now, I already established the kill call made for Izuku and this was by chance really but the police used fire to kill Izuku. Again another FNAF reference.

It wasn't the original plan, they wanted to secure an area and destroy Izuku and the doll in the process but fire happened and Izuku is dying. Again.

Which is where we get emotional Aizawa because not only did he started to care for Izuku but he was loosing him like he was loosing Oboro all over again.

However, there are explosions and fires.

Izuku cries and whines about not wanting to die and that he was begging the doll, his doll to help him but neither of them could do anything.

The doll was flammable. Which is why Izuku always strayed away from flames or fire, forming a fear from it. He always associated fire with danger and war. Not safe. NOT SAFE!

So, Izuku's only other option was to have someone save him but who would save a bad child?

Who would help an evil child?

Izuku is in distress and when he see the doll melt, die, and wither is he reminded of his past, once again, and he sobs because he's bad. He evil!

It's not like Izuku is coming to terms about it, he still denies that his mother killed him because she couldn't handle the situation anymore, but it's more of Izuku coming to terms that his love, his affection, his adoration was never right.

It was wrong.

That he was bad and that this was his punishment for not obeying the quote on quote rules.

Which is how Aizawa finds Izuku, the doll semi- burning and Izuku loosing his life.

They have a heartfelt moment, Izuku apologizing to Aizawa for scaring him, that he shouldn't have done such things, and that this was his punishment for being a bad boy.

Aizawa, much like Izuku, is in distressed and tries, and he actively does try to get the doll and Izuku out but Izuku cries out in pain and asking for Aizawa to stop.

Another moral dilemma for Aizawa because he doesn't want Izuku to die; he doesn't want to see the child he learned to love wither away.

However, Izuku begs Aizawa to let him burn despite the fear he holds on dying, especially, by flames.

The doll is just about be to completely burned and Izuku asks Aizawa to 'Live and strive to be better... than the past... Live a happily every after, Big Brother.'

Now, hear me out! This scene and time is 100% influenced by season two of Kimetsu no Yaiba, the Entertainment District Arc, it's a rough plan out but thinking of Daki and Gyutaro, I think Izuku in this AU and Aizawa's relationship would be somewhat similar to Daki and Gyutaro.

Aizawa acting as the rational and Izuku as the childish, forever child, minus Aizawa giving Izuku backhand comments.

Aizawa was just tired and trying to not anger Izuku because he wanted to live and after spending quite a long time (2+ years) with him, he learned to go with the flow and take it with strive.

Adaptability is a great tool, you know?

Now, time for end scene where Aizawa promises Izuku he'll do his best to live his best life because that was all Izuku wanted out of life.

Izuku's character wanted a life out of war, happiness, and peace. He wanted to make people smile and live peacefully and hopeful that they could accomplish anything. Izuku was young when he first died and he was stuck on that mindset no matter how many years passed.

He saw the pain, the grief, and the toll life—war—had on people and in a messed up way, he decided to take that burden and help those to live their best life.

Izuku wanted, in a dark, messed-up way, he learned from his mother, to help people be their best selves and live a happily ever after like he promised his mother.

He wanted to live blissfully with his mother because in the time Izuku was born and died, misery, pain, and corruption was all he knew; what he hated the most.

Aizawa does try to keep his promise but there are times where his fight withers away. Where life and death have a blurry line that Aizawa couldn't differentiate from.

But he makes it.

He lives a life that he's happy with and almost religiously says good morning to the shrine dedicated to both Izuku and Oboro and good night whenever he comes home after a patrol.

In a way, he's still mourning but has come to terms that life is full on unfairness and having to loose two friends—family members—wasn't his fault.

No matter how much guilt he holds for making it out alive.

However, this rush of emotions he gets when he meets another Class 1-A he has too teach is unexplainable.

He feels like a teenager for a moment because Izuku is alive. Once again.

And no, this time as an actual human boy.

Izuku reincarnated.

However, a key difference here is that Izuku is quirkless. He never gained OFA and got to UA purely by rescue points. Maybe a few villain points but mostly rescue points.

Aizawa didn't look too deep into Izuku's file since the name not only felt too raw for him but the colour as well.

Green.

But he takes a good look at Izuku in the first day and instantly recognizes him as his Izuku. His little brother.

The green hair, which were similar to the green tips Izuku had, the mannerism, Izuku always loved to ramble about something he was passionate about, and yet what took the cake here were his eyes, emerald green irises with permanent—not temporarily—pupils that looked like the center of a button.

Izuku was reborn and this time... with a second chance at life.

Izuku much like canon Izuku, faced discrimination for being quirkless, and for being weird.

However, the reason Izuku acted as such was because of his past life, Izuku isn't aware of his previous life and he might never find out but he knows that he's special in a way.

That he acts odd.

And as for the quirkless part, it's like his punishment for what he has done in previous life. Izuku can be blamed for the deaths he created, however, mental health is no joke and for that, some outside force or God took mercy on him for just a bit and let Izuku be reincarnated again but without a meta ability to call his own.

This was karma insuring that there wouldn't be a redo and that this Izuku face the consequences of his actions.

So, yeah, this Izuku is a sort of mix, of his past life and canon Izuku but for the most part he gets a hopeful ending.

A second chance.

And Aizawa can't help but breathe a bit easier.

Will Aizawa and Izuku reconcile? Yeah, sort of.

Aizawa wouldn't actively seek Izuku out and vice versa but little by little Izuku will see Aizawa as a big brother figure/someone to trust both by how Aizawa protected his class—and him—and by his instincts.

Again, Izuku is a reincarnation and I love the trope of a reincarnation remembering or at least having choices be influenced by their past life(ves).

Same goes here for Izuku.

Will Izuku remember his past life? High chance no because Aizawa isn't trying to make Izuku remember nor is Aizawa wanting Izuku to remember. Maybe he had a thought or two but on his part, seeing Izuku as a kid, as a child who still is a firm believer in helping people—morally correctly—this time around brings peace to Aizawa's heart.

And another fun fact—Inko reincarnated too! So, both Midoriya's get reincarnated together and get a second chance!

And while this AU is messed up and turns lighter towards the end, I couldn't help but just make it that way?

Like I could've just ended with an open ending or even just a happy ending but I wanted for once to make this happy or at least hopeful because in no way am I justifying Izuku's actions but I'm also not wanting to this make so miserable.

Also, I'm taking into account, the ages here and mental health for both Izuku and Inko, people can only take so much and some people just can't recover from that.

Not even Izuku this time around.

But hopefully he can with his third (fourth?) chance at life!

Now why do I say third. Well, in short, Izuku's first life was his human life during the beginning of the Quirk Wars, his second life was him being a sort of unrested soul, and third being his "second" chance in life with his karma insuring that the past won't be repeated another time.

So, yeah! That's my Puppet AU! One of my more darker AU's but not necessarily the darkest, since I have a God AU that his probably darker or similar to this but the answer if it had a hopeful or happy ending is unsure!

Thank you for reading this post and for your patience, really, because this is one of my longer rambles since this AU was stuck on my mind for days.

The reason why I called it 'Puppet AU' was because of Izuku's methods. The main inspiration here was the song 'Daze Daze' by ENHYPEN where the lyrics 'daze, daze, daze, can't control my body, dance, dance, dance, this sweet scent, red fangs too. Enjoy this carnival, wow, wow, wow.'

Which helped create the bases of it, I'll probably ramble more about how this AU came to be on a later date but for now, that's all I have for tonight!

Enjoy the rest of your day and have a wonderful time! - Bye-Bye and rest well, Gemini!

#puppet au #izuku midoriya #boku no hero academia #angst #my hero academia #fnaf reference #inko midoriya #shota aizawa #creepy concept #cw: gore #mha aus #kimetsu no yaiba reference #big brother aizawa shota #reincarnation

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asleep-in-the-keep-sideblog · 7 months

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Asleep In The Keep: A DP x BNHA fic

Summary: Kamui Woods and Mt. Lady find a member from the mysterious vigilante group, Phantom.

Word count: 5817

Chapter 19: Where's Your Head at?!

19/?

It had been a slow night during patrols, which was surprising since during the last few weeks, crime rates had gone up. Stain: The Hero Killer sparked something in society that made people lash out towards the heroes. Most of those affected had been angsty teens who felt hurt or scorned by their peers, or at least that's what Kamui Woods’ heard. They just needed a steady hand to guide them back to the right path. The real threat however wasn’t the ones who made themselves known, but the ones who worked in the quiet behind every corner or alley. It was important to stay diligent and keep an unclouded mind…

…Which was something his partner was having a hard time with.

“Seriously, that kid was really creepy.” Mt. Lady, while being an exceptional hero with a powerful quirk, she had a habit of looking at the smaller things. This didn’t impact her hero duties for when push came to shove, she shushed harder. Kamui Woods admires that about her. She continued again, “Did you see the way he looked at me?” She made exaggerated motions while pointing to her eyes, “it was like he was trying to freak me out on purpose. It gave me the chills” she shivered.

Despite her flaws, Kamui Woods really enjoyed his time with her, and even considered her a friend (even if she never agrees to hang out with him off the clock).

“He was probably just shocked to see a hero at this time of night.” Kamui Woods couldn’t lie and say he didn’t feel something from the boy. It felt as if there was no soul behind the kid’s eyes and they wanted his to reflect them. He thought for a moment and said, “It could’ve had something to do with his quirk?” Quirks that affected people’s emotions weren’t unheard of, but they were still few and far between. Kamui Woods himself had only met two people who had such a quirk. He continued, “The kid seemed polite. He even bowed as we walked past.” Despite the interaction being creepy, the kid was still respectful.

“I guess…” she shrugged, “but when he walked past, his shoulder brushed against me. It was cold. It was like all the warmth from my arm was sucked out. I actually thought he was about to attack me.” This took Kamui Woods by surprise.

The night, while not the warmest, sat at a comfortable 15°C, but when the boy passed by, a bitter chill swept into Kamui Woods bones. He thought it was just the breeze. And the boy, in spite of being off-putting, didn’t give off any malicious intent. He still believed Mt. Lady. She, despite being a newer hero, had a good head on her shoulders and had the instincts needed for the job, even if she could act immature at times. Kamui Woods would keep an eye out for the boy from now on.

They continued like this, neither of them saying anything except for a few short conversations. The patrol remained slow and eventually they were close to where they started again. The Hero Commission had assigned many of the local heroes of Musutafu different sections of the city. Supposedly, they believed the vigilante group who calls themselves “Phantom” had been seen around here but had not made any contact with any heroes in the area. Until that changes, heroes all over Musutafu were confined to one patrol route. Kamui Woods doubted that would happen. One of the group members would probably catch on to being hunted then they would move to a different city, like they did in Hosu.

As they were walking past an alley, a bitter chill blew in the air. Both him and Mt. Lady froze, recognizing the sensation. Was it that same boy? They had checked the alley before on their last round. Nothing was out of the usual other than an overwhelming feeling of wrongness. They left quickly after confirming the area was clear. Of course it had to be this alley. He looked over at Mt. Lady behind him, her eyes were wide. She was thinking the same as him. They didn’t dare speak, too afraid of disrupting whatever was happening in the alley or alerting the person inside. There was always a chance nothing was there, but Kamui Woods doubted it. Every muscle in his body was twitching to flee, and he had to fight to not cave-in to the instinct. Mt. Lady was in a similar condition. This was exactly why they had to go in.

Kamui Woods looked over at Mt. Lady and gave her a confident look, but it was hidden under his helmet. Instead, he gave her a firm nod and she nodded back at him. Just being with her was enough to calm him down. With slightly shaky hands, he was able to sign out a hastily thought-up strategy. Most heroes knew sign language since it was important to be able to communicate in situations like this. When what to do was decided, Mt. Lady and him nodded at eachother once more to reassure themselves. Kamui Woods sent out a quick message for reinforcements in the area. Despite his feelings for Mt. Lady, the crammed environment wasn’t the most suited for her quirk. Until then, they had to risk going in, not wanting to chance the criminal getting away.

Slowly, using all their stealth training, they approached the mouth of the alley. Unfortunately, the alley was a dead-end, so they couldn’t go in through the back to corner them. Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise, since that also meant the person (or persons) couldn’t get away either. They had no idea what they were up against. By how intense the aura was, something bad must have happened. The worst case was a murder, which seemed likely since the feeling of death was slowly overwhelming them as they walked deeper into the alley.

They heard faint noises up ahead. They both had to stop breathing to be even able to hear it. It was almost like fizzing? They walked in synchronized movements deeper in, curiosity getting the better of them. A faint green glow illuminated out and there was a faint smell of electricity in the air. Before them they saw a blob on the ground, but what surprised them most was what was above it. After a second, the blob lifted into the air and returned to it’s master, a white haired teen. A phrase repeated into Kamui Woods’ head. It is cold outside.

The teen, no, Phantom , grabbed it out of the air and it molded into his hand. Was that thing a part of him? Was this his quirk? Kamui Woods couldn’t see any of the others around. From what he knew about the group, they liked to work closely together. Was it just him? Before he was able to communicate this to Mt. Lady, she gasped at the display before her.

Phantom snapped his head towards them in an unnatural manner, earning further gasps from both of the heroes. His eyes widened as he stared down the heroes, and the off-putting vibe increased tenfold. Before Phantom could react first, Kamui Woods launched an attack of tree roots from his arm and was able to wrap it around him. Mt. Lady rushed in while he was incapacitated, but something was off. Phantom didn’t seem phased, he wasn’t even struggling. The only thing on his face was shock, and even that was mild. While he still had the opportunity, Kamui Woods grabbed his communicator with his free hand and spoke one phrase without context.

“It is cold outside!” He heard nothing on the other end.

Mt. Lady’s punch connected as soon as the phrase was uttered. Despite being limited in tighter spaces, her hand-to-hand combat made up for this disadvantage, and she was a heavy hitter. The sound of her fist echoed in the alley with a sickening crunch. They both watched in horror as Phantom’s head exploded, bursting his shattered skull into a gooey mess.

Mt. Lady looked at the crime scene in shock for a second, then her face morphed into one of fear and disgust. She looked over at him, pale and trembling after what she had just done. Kamui Woods knew Mt. Lady, she wouldn’t hit hard enough to kill. Seconds slowed down to minutes and Kamui Woods felt himself get sick when he realized his roots were still holding onto the body…

He was about to release his hold, ready to burn off the branches, when he caught sight of the boy's once intact head. The splatters orbited around the boy's neck like a bloody halo (if blood was green and glowing). The body was still twitching.

Slowly, like the attack was going back in time, the goo started to flow back to the body's head. Mt. Lady was still looking at Kamui Woods, so she couldn’t see what was building behind her. His body language must have given it away and she slowly turned around, obviously apprehensive to what she might see. She turned just in time to see the last few drops meld into his head.

The once dead teen looked at them blankly, but there was something hidden underneath. Phantom touched the roots that wrapped around him gently, like he was scared they were going to attack him (which was fair after what just happened to him). He suddenly grabbed hold of a firm branch and started to push his body away. He struggled at first, and Kamui Woods had no idea what he was trying to do. Slowly, the boy’s body was starting to move through the roots. It was like watching slime ooze out between the cracks of a box.

Both Kamui Woods and Mt. Lady were too stunned to do anything, still not yet recovered from the boy’s decapitation. After a few seconds, the boy untangled himself from the branches. He rubbed and patted his torso, as if still surprised that it was intact. Did he not know he could do that?

“What the fuck…” the boy groaned. It appears he didn’t know. His hands shot up to his neck, rubbing under the fabric as if looking for the seam. Something twisted inside Kamui’s gut. The boy felt more than dangerous, he felt wrong.

Kamui Woods shook off his shock and launched his other arm at the boy while recoiling his other roots. They were able to once again latch onto Phantom. Like before, Phantom was able to squirm out of the root's grasps, this time with more ease than prior. While he was preoccupied with that, Mt. Lady rushed towards him with a fist raised, but missed and hit the roots below, causing them to splitter apart, wood chips flying. Phantom jumped back and it seemed as if he was floating. Mt. Lady charged at him again, but he nimbly dodged her every attack.

“Why are you attacking me?” Phantom’s voice was hollow as he spoke and its echo reverberated in Kamui Woods bones. It didn’t sound desperate or like a plea, just filled with a child-like confusion. Mt. Lady, unmoved, didn’t stop her volley of attacks and Kamui Woods followed suit, sending smaller but faster branches to the vigilantes' feet to trip him up. His foot got tangled and Mt. Lady was able to hit his shoulder. It reacted similarly to his head, but he quickly recovered.

“Seriously, like why?” Phantom jumped back, “I haven’t done anything to you guys!” He stood open in front of them as if expecting an answer. He really looked like a kid.

“You’re dangerous!” Mt. Lady shouted as she threw another punch. The teen shrieked but was able to dodge it like the others.

“Is this because of the whole ‘vigilante’ thing?” It sounded like a whine, “I really didn’t think it’s that big of a deal.” He was casually able to dodge both Mt. Lady’s and Kamui Woods attacks. The kid was skilled, that was for sure. He must have had training before, along with his brothers. They have yet to show themselves, but from the stories Kamui Woods heard, they were able to move in sync perfectly. They had to find a way to end this soon before they arrived.

A thought dashed across Kamui Woods’ mind as cold air filled his lungs. The boy… This was the same chill from when the boy passed by them on the street. Could he be one of the brothers? He couldn’t remember what the kid looked like, only black hair and a white streak, but he felt very similar to the Phantom before them now. But was that really the case, where was he? Kamui Woods looked around frantically for any spot that they might have missed, any corner, any object, any unseen shadow... It’s possible that this all could’ve been a trap, that the boy led them here, he heard a similar thing happened with Fat Gum. But that didn’t make sense! The Phantom member didn’t look like he was expecting them, and if it had been a trap wouldn’t there be more of them? Phantom also hadn’t tried attacking them, despite what they’d done. He seemed more confused than malicious. But the boy and the Phantom before them were connected somehow…

Wait, was it only one person? But that didn’t make sense either! Phantom had only been using one quirk and from the reports each Phantom had a different set of skills (with ice one being more active). Nothing was adding up.

The fight was going nowhere. Phantom had yet to tire but the same couldn’t be said for Mt. Lady and him. Mt. Lady’s attacks had gotten slower and Kamui Woods branches were becoming less coordinated. Phantom noticed.

“Since you’re not gonna answer my questions, can I ask something else?” Silence, “So the guy, I understand his quirk and costume, he’s basically Groot, but-” Kamui Woods was offended.

“Like that guy from that American movie?!” He shouted. Before the age of quirks, people would make hero movies that almost mirrored the world today. These were classics that people still found enjoyment out of, even if it wasn’t the most accurate portrayal of quirks.

“Yeah?” The kid answered casually. Mt. Lady tried to sweep his legs, but her kick went through them like jello.

“How old are you, kid?” Nowadays however, not as many people had seen them. Kamui Woods’ grandparents had a copy of these films so he was at least familiar with it. Before Phantom had the chance to answer, a powerful fist connected to his body, and sent the slime-like boy flying into the wall.

Luck was on their side. Reinforcements had finally arrived in the form of The Punching Hero: Death Arms. He was the only one so far, but the fight had only been going for less than 10 minutes, so it made sense.

“Finally!” Mt. Lady beamed, “I was trying to get a hit on that little fucker!” she did a little jump and punched into the air.

Death Arms looked at the wall that held the remains of Phantom. He had punched so hard that the wall had a crater in it. Phantom looked like a cracked egg. Death Arms paled.

“I really didn’t mean to hit him that hard. When you called for backup, you sounded desperate. I really thought he could take it.” He looked at his arms, the thing he held the most pride for, in shock and disgust, similarly to how Mt. Lady reacted.

“He’s not dead.” Mt. Lady went over to the man and comforted him, putting a hand on his shoulder and looking up.

“He’s not?” Death arms looked confused. While she explained the situation to him, Kamui Woods went over to where the boy was splattered. Already his goo-like body was wiggling and being pulled together. It was kind of gross to look at.

Kamui Woods grabbed a pair of anti-quirk cuffs, but wasn’t sure how to use it on the boy. Out of the gooey mass a limb started to form so he gently cuffed whatever it was. More limbs started writhing out and the cuff fell to the group. Kamui Woods panicked. Without having anything else he could do, he made a bar-like grid with his roots to try to stop them from forming. The goo started spreading to them and they broke over the force. Death Arms was able to snap out of his grief, and started punching the substance. Kamui Woods got a weird sense of déjà vu about a villain they had fought before and felt a phantom memory of smoke and fire. He hoped that boy was alright.

He snapped out of it when the goo started climbing up Death Arms’ arms. A sickening crack echoed throughout the alley and then screams. Phantom had broken his arms as if they were a toothpick. A black skull started to lurch outside from the rest of the mass. Skin bloomed like mold and covered the emerging body. The zombie-like figure was only mere inches from Death Arms face, his head and elongated neck bobbing back and forth like a snake trying to hold onto the hero's eye contact. Death Arm’s body thrashed despite his injuries as he desperately tried to escape from Phantoms’, no, the monster’s body. Kamui Woods had always known Death Arms to be a brave man, he had never seen the man scream, but today the streak had been broken. He screamed like a scared child.

Instead of overtaking the rest of the man’s body, it’s neck slithered past him. The goo receded and coagulated at Phantom’s head, then pooled down into the shape of his body. When the last of the slime left Death Arm’s body, the man collapsed and did not get back up. The slime started taking more color and soon the once familiar visage of Phantom was before them.

“O̷͈͂̔H̸͉̬̀͒ ̴̳͠ͅM̶̺̉͆Y̶̹͊͗ ̸͔͕̚Ĝ̶̗̣O̸͍͎̎͠D̶̰̐ ̵̯̭̉̈́T̵͍̳̊H̴͔͛A̸̢͝Ṭ̸̳̽͝ ̴̪͈̿F̶̰̬͗͐Ĕ̵͔͎̌L̵̼̃̂͜T̶̮͠ ̸̱͐S̸̢̄̈́O̶̦͇̾ ̴͙̖̽W̸̭̔E̵̢̛̎I̵̭͕̅͝Ŕ̴̳̺͂D̵̡͙͋!̷̟̎” He started shaking his hands like he was trying to dry them off.

Indescribable horror froze the heroes to the ground. Mt. Lady and Kamui Woods could only stare at the creature in terror. That was the only thing they had been able to do all night. He was too powerful for just the two of them to fight alone. Even Endeavor would have a hard time bringing him down.

Phantom continued to ignore them, laughing and mumbling to himself. He didn’t even see them as a threat. Kamui Woods looked over at Mt. Lady. There were only two options:

1) Retreat. They have no hope of beating him.

2) Stay and fight. So far Phantom had been only toying with them, but there was no telling how long that will last.

He looked into Mt. Lady’s eyes. They were just as passionate and determined as when the fight first began. They were heroes, of course they would stay and fight. Kamui Woods swore if he made it out of this, he would ask out Mt. Lady.

Phantom turned to them with a smile too big for a human face, it only took a second for it to be blasted off. A jet stream of water came from behind them, knocking Phantom away for the second time that fight. Backdraft and other heroes came pouring into the alley. It is a bad sign when so many heroes are needed for a single foe, but at this moment, Kamui Woods couldn’t be happier to see them. Someone started barking orders but he was too out of it to understand.

They surrounded the area where Phantom landed, but at enough of a distance in case something happens. Phantom was able to recover (of course), and stood before the heroes, something unseen in his eyes. His feet lifted off of the ground, which earned gasps from all around. Kamui Woods no longer had the threshold for any more surprises tonight. Phantom rose higher and higher, till he was looking down on all the heroes. They all braced for his attack…But nothing came.

Phantom simply turned and flew away, fading into the night like a falling star. A haunting silence filled the alley, the anticipation of what might happen still building. No one dared move from their battle stances. Then like a veil of smoke, it dissipated. It started as a few murmurs then spread into loud conversations and disagreements. In all the ruckus, a few heroes went up to Kamui Woods and Mt. Lady. It was clear to everyone that it must’ve been one hell of a fight. Mt. Lady was quick to snap out of whatever trance the two were still in, and started boasting about how she was able to hold Phantom off. Kamui Woods on the other hand had had too much excitement for the night and went to go sit down against a wall.

Paramedics and the police arrived on scene and immediately rushed to Death Arms, who still lay unresponsive on the ground. A tense excitement buzzed throughout the alley. No one had come this close to any member of Phantom since the Hosu incident. Kamui Woods thought he had an idea why. It wasn’t a group. It was a single person.

It was hard to believe it at first, but that's the only thing that made any sense to him right now. Maybe he was too tired from the fight, even now his brain was fighting with him about the fact that a person can only have one quirk. Kamui Woods lifted his helmet slightly to rub his face.

Nothing was impossible these days.

★

It was safe to say that Danny had had an eventful night. After he found the portal he was ready to go home (i.e. the shack he called home). Amity Park was still out of his reach, but now he was closer than he ever had been before. The feeling of not wanting to go nagged at him, but he shoved it deeper down.

He flew over the alleyway, just far enough to still be able to see the heroes below. He didn’t expect so many of them, but then again he supposed he was a wanted ‘criminal’. Typical. There were about 20 heroes down there; more still arriving, and some cops. Danny didn’t know if he would be able to take down all of them. He still didn’t know how powerful he was in this world, it was best not to risk it. He was just lucky these last few times..

He didn’t like running away from a fight and even now a part of him wanted to go back and finish it. That was why he was still so close. He watched the hulk of a man that punched him get loaded onto a stretcher. Serves him right, he thought bitterly. He would survive, just be on bed-rest for a few weeks.

Danny didn’t know what came over him. The hero wasn’t even able to hurt him, none of them could. Even when the hit sent him flying, Danny couldn’t feel anything. Not even when he collided with the wall. He thinks it was his instincts taking over. His new body scared him. For a second he was gone, he was only aware he was unaware. He came to when he heard the snap. No, it was more than just that. He felt the bones break inside of him. It felt like chewing into hard carrots. Luckily, Danny’s body didn’t try to eat the poor man. He could not handle the trauma that came with eating someone.

Danny also thought back to when that lady punched into his head. He thought it was all over. He felt all fuzzy and confused. It was like when you blew your nose too hard and for too long. It took him a moment to figure out what to do from there, but then he remembered his first night here. His ectoplasm moved outside of him. He just took that sensation and expanded it. Danny didn’t know if he would ever be used to his body.

He watched the heroes below like ants. They seemed happy enough, most of them going off into little groups and chatting, completely unaware that he was still there. He spotted the two heroes he fought earlier talking to an official looking women in black. They were further away from the others, probably for privacy. The women’s mousey assistant handed them what looked to be a large stack of paper covered in small words. He had no clue what that was about.

It was clear none of the heroes were going to hunt him or do anything else interesting for the night, so Danny flew away. He started making his way towards the coffee shop from before. Danny didn’t know why, he just thought he needed to go there. Besides, getting a sketchy job wasn’t the worst idea he ever had (that was going in the portal). Maybe when he goes back home his mom and dad might finally be proud of him for a change.

Danny made sure to memorize the area around to be able to find the portal again. He found a good land marker in the shape of a school or office building (it was hard to tell). It had two interconnected buildings made of glass in the shape of an ‘H’, and a tall concrete fence around it with an arc. It was distinct enough to find again and that's all that really mattered to Danny. It also happened to be pretty close to the coffee shop as well.

Danny had no trouble finding the little shop. The Coffee & Tea sign greeted him at the window. His glowing form reflected back at him and he jumped back a little. He forgot he looked like that… He stared at himself and took a deep breath for comfort and closed his eyes. He imagined his human face again. After a second, Danny didn’t feel any different, so peeked open an eye to check. Ah there he was, the human him. This level of self-indulgence might be unhealthy, but it made him happy. He looked different this time. There weren’t any veins under his skin and looked less like a corpse. He pulled down his suit a little and was shocked to see the blue fade down further under his shirt. He was getting better at this.

He untied his hoodie from his waist (honestly he was surprised he hadn’t lost it in the fight), and pulled it over. He could say that he was shocked to find that it had a subtle glow to it, but that would be a lie. It had just been in an area with a lot of ectoplasm. It made sense it was a little radioactive.

“There,” he posed in front of the window, “I look perfectly human.” In this world's standards at least. He shook his hands to get rid of the anxious energy he was building up. He checked himself one more time, then with a final breath, he went up to the door.

He was about to knock when he stopped instead.

“Tanaka?” Danny asked unsure at the door before him. He heard several clicks before the door opened. He couldn’t see a person on the other side, just the dark room of the café.

“Come in, Tommy” A staticky voice sounded from the speaker above. Danny jumped and the flights flicked. He walked in and shut the door behind him, careful not to make any noise.

It wasn’t like anything bad was gonna happen.

Zzz

A man arrived on the scene. He was a local hero who had become less active in recent years due to his other job as a teacher. His students were still away for internships, so he was able to use his free time for patrols (and avoid personal care no matter how much his husband begged). Principle Nezu gave him a special task to locate the vigilante ‘ group’, “Phantom”, before the Hero Commission , but so far has had no luck. The only leads were rumors, and the supposed sightings were too far apart to check in one night. He was actually in the middle of said search when he got an alert. Unfortunately, the location was across town, so it took him a while to get there.

Looks like they found him first.

He grabbed a bottle of eye drops from his pocket and wetted his eyes, an unfortunate side-effect of his quirk. Eye bags were a permanent feature on his face, a marker for how overworked he was. Despite this, his eyes were sharp as he looked over the scene. It was obvious there had been a fight there but the property damage was less than expected for someone as powerful and unknown as Phantom. He walked deeper into the alley where most of the people were. A small dent in the ground caught his eye. It was freshly made judging from the rubble around it, and about the size of a fist. It wasn’t close to the larger craters and so didn’t come from the fight. He kneeled down to get a better look at it. There was nothing of substance in the crater itself, but beside it was a small dirt pile and bug shells. Taking a small bag left over from a snack, he scooped up the dirt. This wasn’t the best way to transport the sample, but it was the only thing he had. He could give this to Principle Nezu so they could figure out what made Phantom respond like this.

A few heroes looked at him strangely, but didn’t approach him. Despite not being well known (choosing to stay underground for both professional and personal reasons), he still had the reputation of being odd.

“Eraser Head” A cop approached behind him, Shouta turned to meet their eyes. He recognized him as Tsukauchi Naomasa, All Might’s friend. The man looked more tired since Shouta had last seen him, but that wasn’t really a surprise. His eye bags had started to match his own. The two looked like they could be related.

“Detective Tsukauchi.” He greeted back. Tsukauchi reached out his hand and Shouta used it to pull himself off of the ground. “I take it All Might has informed you of the situation?” They could use all the help they could get at locating Phantom, and Tsukauchi’s resources would be invaluable.

“No, actually.” The man rubbed his neck, “It was Principle Nezu. All Might has chosen to stay out of this.” That surprised Shouta. It must’ve been clear because the man continued, “He has too many personal matters wrapped up in this, that is all I can say at this time.”

“I see.” All Might would’ve been able to cut down the search time significantly, but Shouta supposed with his decline in strength, that wasn’t the most realistic outcome. “That’s disappointing then.” Regardless of the man’s own feelings, he hopes he would at least still be able to give them information about AFO. No longer wanting to talk about All Might, Shouta moved forward with the conversation, “So what happened tonight?”

“While Mt. Lady and Kamui Woods were on patrol, they got a ‘weird vibe’ from the alleyway and decided to check it out. There they witnessed Phantom use an unidentified quirk, my theory is ectoplasm not to be confused with Ectoplasm’s quirk, and fought him.” A muscle in Shouta’s face twitched, but he was able to keep the rest of his face neutral, only nodding along with Tsukauchi. The man paid no mind to this and kept going, “Fortunately I was able to arrive before the Hero Commission, so they were more willing to share this information.” He stepped closer to Shouta and he mirrored the action. In a hushed voice Tsukauchi whispered, “After the first blow, his head exploded and turned into that same substance.”

Shouta couldn’t help his mouth from dropping. After his shock, his hands clamped into fists. He didn’t know much about Phantom, but from what Principle Nezu had told him, he did not have a good life before. He had to keep a clear head. Rationally he understood where the other heroes were coming from. Phantom was an unknown and could be violent. But to go so far as blowing the kid’s heads off? As the opening blow? That was something Shouta couldn’t understand.

Tsukauchi looked at him, a look of understanding and pity on his face. He knew Shouta had a soft spot for kids. He coughed a little, and continued on with his report, “His body behaved similarly throughout the fight. Death Arms shortly arrived on scene but had both of his arms broken. Then more heroes arrived to save them both.”

“Who attacked first?” Shouta interrupted. He could maybe understand if Phantom attacked or was acting aggressively than if he was just standing there.

“They did.” Tsukauchi handed him a sealed folder, “What I just told you was the shorthanded version. The rest is in the report”

Shouta quickly grabbed the folder and stuffed it into his jumpsuit, “And it’s safe to say the Hero Commission doesn’t know about this?” He was looking forward to reading it.

“As far as they know, I handed the only report over to Ms. Makoto to be destroyed” A smile spread on his face. They were asking him a lot to go against orders, but Phantom needed to be found.

The Hero Commission may have made official first contact with him, but that didn’t mean they had him. Both Principle Nezu and Shouta sore they would never get him. In a strange way, they actually did UA a favor.

There had been reports in the surrounding area but they were sporadic and far out, almost as if Phantom was looking for something, which means he’ll stay close by. This location was in the middle of it. They also confirmed that Phantom wouldn’t attack unless provoked. He really was just a kid… Shouta had to keep focus.

The Commission also did them a disservice. Now the kid would be more apprehensive around heroes, making Shouta’s job harder. He thanked the detective and the man left. If they were seen interacting too long it would be suspicious.

It was nearing 3 am, but Shouta still had a long morning of searching ahead of him. He doubted he would find Phantom tonight, but it was smart to strike while the iron is hot. First he had to read the report of course (he was looking forward to how the heroes defended their actions). So much to do at once. He inhaled deeply and rubbed the bridge of his nose, he could already feel a headache coming in. one thing was for certain…

He needed some coffee.

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kulemii · 1 year

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Maria da Silva/Maria Aizawa Face Reveal Coming Soon

#maria da silva #maria aizawa #kulemiisplayhouse #on a scale of 1-10 how creepy is this? this kinda sketches me out....#why did i do this

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cloudyyangel · 1 year

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I saw hizashi yamada in distress and almost puked

#my boy….my sunshine boy….#I know a lot of people hate him and I can’t!!! understand it!!!!#president of the present mic deserves better fan club #and don’t get me started on aizawa…I’ll cry #anyway here’s my biweekly check in time to disappear again #during my breaks I am writing for creepy and obsessed tendou and big brother natsuo <3 #*lovingly creepy with a reader who feeds into it <3

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depravitycentral · 4 months

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Yandere! Shouta Aizawa NSFW Profile

Yandere! Shouta Aizawa x fem! reader

Tw: mentions of dub-con, masturbation, stalking, kidnapping, voyeurism, toys, clothed sex, hair-pulling, this one is actually kind of soft and feels less yandere-y to me so sorry that this one is a little less creepy than normal, Shouta is a pleaser and lives for your praise, he gets off with a blanket you gifted him, very mild somnophilia, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 12K

HABITS

In general, Shouta isn’t that perpetually horny. He’s a busy man with constant stress weighing on his shoulders; working as a pro while being a full-time teacher leaves him drained during the few times he gets to relax, and it’s a lot of work to get himself hard, to get off, and to clean up afterwards.

It’s just not worth it to him – especially because it’s a bit sad to be left with just his fist and some low-grade, unrealistic porn as a man in his thirties, isn’t it?

He doesn’t have a partner, and hasn’t had one for quite some time – there was a girl a decade or so ago, but she didn’t last long, and the sex was subpar at best. And so, Shouta finds himself neglecting any sort of sexual activity most nights that he’s off work, not bothering to get himself all worked up and fuck away some of that pent up stress.

Except, then you show up.

His feelings for you form, and although it takes a long time for them to solidify, it takes an even longer time for them to turn lewd, any sort of sexual thought involving you not really taking root into he’s much further into his obsession.

This is for a few reasons – firstly, he just doesn’t have that high of a libido, and while seeing you naked when he’s watching from outside your window certainly gets him hot and bothered, he isn’t constantly fantasizing about bending you over and fucking you until you’re screaming his name.

(Not never, just not constantly – and at inopportune moments, sometimes. Moments where he really should be focused on the mountains of paperwork on his desk, not focused on how the desk is the perfect height for you to be standing on your tiptoes, ass poised out and your chest pressed against the hard wooden lacquer, your soft skin glistening in the dim light and your pretty thighs twitching and quivering as his fingers press deeper and deeper and deeper -)

Secondly, Shouta’s already feeling such crippling guilt regarding his infatuation with you that adding on overt sexual fantasies for you would push him too far. He already hates that he thinks of you constantly, that he’s always idly worrying about your safety, wanting to know your location and who you’re with and what you’re doing.

He already dislikes that he can’t stop himself from swinging by your apartment at the end of his patrols, making sure that you’re in your bed asleep, safe and sound and looking so fucking pretty in the moonlight. He doesn’t like how wrapped around your finger you have him, so how could he justify wringing himself dry to you, depraved fantasies running through his mind as he imagines the way you’d cream on his fingers, how you’d clench down on him so, so tightly when he fucks you just right?

Shouta can’t – it would breach too many protocols of trust, the friendship formed between the two of you precarious enough as it is with Shouta’s obsessive, disturbing feelings. He doesn’t think of you sexually, banishing every thought from his mind the moment it appears.

Or, at least, that’s what he wishes could be true – unfortunately, his hormones get the better of him sometimes, leaving him rolling around in his bed, cock painfully hard and his mind insistently flashing images of you changing behind his eyelids.

He’s embarrassed, more than anything, that he doesn’t have enough self control to successfully halt any lewd thoughts of you – it’s pathetic, really, because is he so desperate to touch you that he literally can’t stop himself?

Is he really so painfully, pitifully aroused by you that just the mere idea of you licking your lips or smiling at him can get him breathing hard, thankful for the bagginess of his pants?

He hates that the answer is yes, that his body is really that pent up and eager to get you under him, naked and soft and pretty, all for him and only him. It’s demoralizing, but Shouta only has so much restraint – he tries to hold out for as long as he can, really. He swears.

It’s torture at first, popping melatonin and chugging Nyquil, hoping he’ll be able to pass out and sleep off the horniness, but it never quite works. Instead, his dreams are full of you – on your knees, sucking him off so well that your cheeks are literally hollowing, drool spilling down your chin, a string of saliva and precum connecting your puffy lips to his swollen tip when you pull off for air.

He’ll dream of you on your hands and knees, peeking back at him with glassy eyes and biting your lip, clearly embarrassed as you ask him to touch me, please Shouta, I need you…

He always wakes up with soiled sheets, his entire pelvis sticky with now cold cum, and it becomes very, very difficult to look you in the eye that day, only able to conjure up the image of you all tied up in his scarf, your breasts perfectly framed and your thighs spread, slick covering them as you whine his name, desperate for him.

And though he tries to stave off, not letting himself actively fantasize about you sexually while he’s conscious, a particularly rough day of teaching and patrol have him giving up, throwing caution to the wind as he decides that he needs this, that a release is the only way he’ll be able to stay sane.

In the past, the few times he’s masturbated he’s always just fucked his fist, not needing anything too fancy. But for you, something about that feels disrespectful – it’s stupid and he knows it, but the idea of just thrusting into his hand over and over until he eventually spills all over his knuckles seems tacky, low-class, almost offensive to your image, like he’s tarnishing you and the way he idolizes you.

So, he relies on the next best thing he can scrounge up – you’d given him a blanket a few months ago, a birthday present that he’d tried desperately to cover his blush at receiving.

(Hizashi had pitched in, helping you decide which color and texture, having an expert’s opinion so that it would be perfect for the dark-haired man – a level of detail and attention to his desires that still, to this day, makes his heart flutter to think about. You cared, wanting him to be happy, and just that thought leaves his chest swelling with pride, his palms getting a bit clammy and his cheeks feeling too hot.)

He’s kept the blanket on his bed, using it every single night for the limited sleep he manages to get, making sure the material is always, always touching his body. It’s the only way he really feels close to you – the blanket was for him, sure, but you’d touched it, picked it out, held it in your arms while Shouta was dumbly gaping at you and struggling to utter out a strained thank you.

(If he tries hard enough, he thinks he can even smell you on the fabric – it’s not as good as if you were actually here with him, laying in his arms, touching him, but if he strains enough and pretends hard enough, there’s the faintest whiff of you.)

He’s gulping, throwing his uniform off and leaving it crumped up in the corner, before gently, daintily grabbing the edges of the neatly folded blanket (a stark contrast to the harsh pulling and tugging at his costume he’d thrown off moments earlier) and laying it out on the bed.

He lets out a shaky breath, gulping, before tying his hair back into a messy, low ponytail, excitement flitting through him because he’s really about to do it. He’s really about to touch himself to the thought of you, allowing himself to fully indulge in the fantasy that is you, the fantasy that is imagining the way you’d feel against his body, your lips against his own, your hands in his hair and your thighs around his waist.

He’s moving slow as he settles onto his knees on the bed, staring down at the blanket with furrowed brows. This isn’t quite right – the image of you laying before him, body nude and your legs clenched together in anticipation feels very, very right, but there’s something missing.

A thumb comes down to idly rub at the blanket, tracing small circles against the material as he wracks his brain. What’s missing? How can he make this feel like you, like it’s your body he’s touching, like it’s your perfect little cunt he’s fucking?

He’s not sure, but suddenly it hits him – your body, just as he’d been dreaming about.

The blanket doesn’t look enough like you – it’s two dimensional, flat and having no surface area to grip onto, nothing for him to fondle and touch and squeeze.

It needs to have more of your shape – quickly, methodically, he’s reaching down, grabbing handfuls of the blanket and bunching it up, forming a shape that vaguely resembles your torso. He’s careful to get the exact shape of your waist and hips, making sure to leave mounds of crumpled blanket to represent your breasts, even creating a little space between your thighs that represents something soft, something warm and wet and tight – your precious little pussy, something Shouta would literally kill to feel.

He gulps as he looks down at his work, the atmosphere suddenly seeming much thicker, heavier, hotter, because now, the solid colored blanket seems like you, at least having your body shape and your vague proportions. Aizawa lets his hand run down what would be your side, pausing right over your pretend hip.

Fuck, he mutters under his breath, before shifting forward slightly, letting his weight rest on his knees and one hand as he carefully guides his cock to the space between your crafted thighs.

He’d been careful to leave a fold in the fabric, a pouch of sorts – a place for him to push into, slowly spreading the two layers, trying to mimic the way your pretty lips would part for him, your walls sucking him and clenching him nice and tight, wanting to keep him inside and never let him pull out.

Shouta curses as he rubs his tip against the fabric, noting with a small, far-away sense of disdain that there’s precum smearing all along the fabric, certainly leaving a stain that he’ll have to scrub out later. His thumb comes up to gently swipe along where he imagines your cheek to be, even feeling phantom sensations of warmth, of softness, just as you’d be.

He leans down slowly, throat bobbing, before letting his eyes flutter closed, his lips pressing against the blanket – right where he imagines your own to be. The kiss is soft, gentle, heartfelt, his tongue flicking out to lick against the blanket material, groaning and wishing it was your own tongue meeting his, your own spit coating his lips.

As he gets closer, body inching further down until his chest pressed up against what’s supposed to be your breasts, he shuffles his hips forward, pushing past the fabric fold and into you. He groans, pulling back from the kiss to rest his forehead against where he imagines yours to be, letting his eyes shut tight, nearly squeezing them closed as he slowly rocks his hips.

The friction of the blanket feels a bit strange, not how you’d feel, but it’s better than nothing – and it’s so, so very easy to imagine you instead; your warm, slick walls, the way you’d squeeze at him when he brushes up against your spot, the way your legs would wrap around his hips, hooking your ankles and pulling him in closer, begging him to go deeper. He sighs out, biting his lip and furrowing his brow, the pleasure slowly beginning to mount.

He imagines the way you’d moan his name – he bets you’d be airy, a soft sound that gets his hips stuttering ever so slightly because he knows the way his name would sound spilling from your lips would be heaven, the sultry Shouta upturned at the end as he fucks into you just the slightest bit faster.

His hips pick up their pace at the thought of you crying his name, back muscles flexing as he slowly gets faster and faster, the slow, sweet, intimate pace he’d set blown to dust in the wake of his thighs propelling him forward, hips flying and smacking into the blanket so quickly and harshly that the mattress is shaking, bedframe slightly pounding against the wall.

Shouta groans, low and deep, imagining the way you’d beg him to go faster Shouta please, please please please you feel s’good, wanna come for you! Memories of seeing you touch yourself flash behind his closed eyes, seeing the way your face screwed up in pleasure, how you gripped at your pillows and bucked your hips and trembled and arched your back and gasped and came –

Shouta’s chanting your name, his hips sinking into the fold of the blanket over and over, and quickly he’s bringing a thumb down to rub frantic, uneven circles where he imagines your clit to be, desperate to get you coming, wanting to time your orgasm with his.

Fuck, come for me baby, give it to me, god you’re s’damn tight fuuuck - !

His eyes fly open as spurts of warm, milky cum spray from his tip, getting all over the blanket and making his hips stutter and jerk, the sensation of coming in something leaving his arms feeling weak.

He’s panting, still saying your name under his breath, dark hair falling around his face as his thighs flex and clench, the last bits of cum dribbling from his tip and leaving him feeling spent. He can’t help but imagine the way you’d take him, if you’d thank him for giving him everything he has to offer, if you’d hold onto him until you both caught your breath, if your walls would still flutter and clench sporadically even after you’d come down from your high.

He closes his eyes again, heart practically in his throat as he leans down once more to kiss the blanket, tongue sneaking out and wet noises filling the room as spit and drool get slobbered all over the fabric.

He’s still out of breath, panting when he pulls back, but it’s not until he leans back onto his knees and takes a good look at the blanket that his high begins to fade, the reminder that you’re not really there making a sharp feeling dig into his gut.

He stares for a moment, before sighing, slowly pulling out of the blanket and grimacing when he feels cooling cum sliding across his cock, the white mess all over the material and smeared across his skin.

He brings a hand to his forehead, covering his eyes and sighing. What was he doing?

He’d just fucked a blanket – a gift, from you no less – while pretending it was you, his desperation to get you naked and in his grasp strong enough to make him lose him mind.

Pathetic, he was truly pathetic.

He’s ashamed as he throws the blanket into the laundry, hoping the cum stains will come out with all the bleach he’d thrown in alongside it, and as he chugs his coffee, deciding to get to school early and try to collect himself, Shouta can only sigh.

You make him such a fucking fool – a freak, perverted and creepy and gross, and as soon as he catches sight of you in the staff loungeroom, looking all pretty in your simple blouse and slacks, he knows he’s a lost cause, every bit of self-respect falling by the wayside.

Because as soon as he looks at you, all he can think of is how you’d look underneath him, stuffed full of his cum and a dazed, fucked-out expression scrawled across your face. All he can think of is how you’d be absolutely perfect to sink his cock into – and as he darts off to the nearest restroom, desperately trying to get rid of the insistent, raging erection in his pants, he can only sigh, letting his head hang.

He really is a fucking creep.

FAVORITE BODY PARTS

Your thighs

Shouta isn’t one to sexualize women’s bodies. He’s a man with urges, sure, but he’s never had trouble separating sexual attraction from respect for his female friends, even for strangers in the streets. A body is a body, and they aren’t made to be stared at and ogled.

Except where you’re concerned, of course, because while Shouta tries his hardest to not sexualize every thought of you, it’s difficult to hold himself back when he’s so utterly attracted to every single part of you.

It’s hard to not fixate and stare and want when he looks at you, and so while he gives a valiant effort to not obsess over your figure in a less than innocent way, eventually he can’t help himself.

And Shouta discovers that while he loves every inch of you, there’s something about your thighs that drive him absolutely fucking crazy.

Maybe it’s their shape – pretty expanses of your skin that look perfect to grope and squeeze, the soft curves making him salivate in a way that feels almost predatory.

Maybe it’s the way they feel – your skin is so soft, especially if he moves his hands further up, between them, nearing somewhere warm and wet and throbbing.

Maybe it’s the way they feel when they’re around his waist, caging him in and keeping him right where he wants to be, and when they’re around his head?

(Don’t mention the instances where he’s orgasmed just from simply eating you out – it’s embarrassing, and while he won’t deny it, he will change the conversation and pray you don’t see the soft, barely-there pink blooming on his cheeks.)

Maybe it’s even the way you respond when he touches them – how you jump a little bit, his calloused hands feeling a bit cold as they skim along the sides, thumbs pressing into your inner thighs, a comforting finger brushing along the juncture of your legs and pelvic bone.

He’s not entirely sure, but one thing he does know is that just seeing your bare thighs is enough to get him gulping, his dark gaze struggling to move away as he watches the area jiggle and flex while you walk, every step you take only making him want you more and more.

Even before he’s stolen you away, he’s fantasizing about your thighs – he’s bought more pairs of stockings and thigh-highs than he’d care to admit, keeping them neatly organized in a specific drawer in his closet, often fingering the material and biting his lip.

(The image of you wearing them makes him drool, the idea of the top hem squeezing your thigh and making a little bulge appear right above the socks getting his hand wandering down his torso, his fingers making quick word of his belt buckle because fuuuck, would you keep them on while he throws your legs over his shoulders and absolutely destroys you?)

He’s always taking extra time and care to properly worship them when he’s got his head between your legs, letting his lips and tongue trail all along the soft skin, leaving teasing bite marks and hickeys and feeling the way you tremble under his touch because he’s so close yet so far from where you need him.

He’s always got a hand on your thighs when he’s fucking you, his fingers clutching and digging into the skin while he shuts his eyes tight and wills himself to last longer, to prolong the moment, to give you more more more, just like you deserve.

He just really, really likes your thighs, so don’t be surprised when he’s got his hand casually placed on one when you’re watching a movie together, his gaze purposefully not looking at you because you can’t see how flustered he is from touching your clothed thigh in a non-sexual context.

You can’t.

His hands

In general, Shouta lives to please you in bed. He’s by no means submissive (though he could be persuaded if you really, really wanted to be in charge for a night), but he’s a caring partner in every possible sense of the word – sex is about you, and any pleasure he gets from it is just a fun bonus.

And because of this, he takes every opportunity to learn new ways to please you, trying everything from teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue, buying a collection of vibrators, even letting you grind against the expanse of his thigh.

But his favorite method by far is using his fingers on you. They’re thick, with scars and callouses dotting the rough skin, but they’re so gentle with you, always touching you like you’re something fragile and delicate and breakable. He's careful with you when he’s rubbing circles over your clit, the pressure consistent enough to feel good but not too hard, sometimes even teasing you. He’s gentle when he’s running his fingertips over your folds, occasionally dipping in just a hair to feel the warm wetness he wants so very badly to sink into.

(He often sucks in a short, nearly inaudible gasp when he does this, his Adam’s apple bobbing because god you’re wet, and he’ll pull back to lick off his fingers, letting his eyes flutter closed as he tastes you.)

He particularly enjoys fingering you – he’s dexterous, and he always goes slow and purposefully, learning quickly exactly where you like to be touched. He’ll angle the pads of his fingers against that spot inside of you that makes your toes curl, his lip caught between his teeth as he watches your face twist up, hearing your pretty sighs and moans, feeling the way you clench around him, your hips twitching a bit as if to get him deeper, to get more of him. He keeps his pace sensual, the come-hither motion slow and controlled, all the while keeping his thumb pressed firmly against your clit, drawing shapes that stay just consistent enough to get you closer and closer.

All the while, the other hand is gently working at your clit, his fingers expertly getting the exact pressure and pattern you like, making your thighs twitch and your little gasps and mewls louder and more insistent.

And when he’s not actively working between your legs, Shouta’s always got his fingers pleasuring you in other ways – gently kneading at your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples between a thumb and index finger, groping and squeezing at you like a man starved as his tongue flicks and sucks at your clit.

They’re grasping a handful of your thigh and squeezing reassuringly as he’s fucking you, his pace slow and deep, making sure you feel every possible inch of him as he folds you in half.

He’s even slipping a thumb against your tongue when you take a break to breath, your chest heaving and your fingers wrapped around his girth, a groan slipping from his lips because god, the sight of his precum dribbling down your chin is enough to get his cock twitching on its own. He’ll press down on your tongue, his lip caught between his teeth as you stare up at him, the sight indescribably erotic, a few praises falling from his mouth about how good you look, how pretty you are, how well you take care of him.

(All the while, he’s feeling you suck on his thumb, eagerly running your tongue along the skin and even swallowing around it to give the extra suction. Shouta curses under his breath, and suddenly stands, grabbing you by the hips and forcing you to bend over the chair he’d previously been sitting on, roughly spreading your legs and immediately diving in to lick and suck against your clit, a finger slipping inside of you because he just can’t not touch you after watching you drool all over him.)

He just likes to make you feel good, and while he enjoys pleasuring you with his mouth, nothing can beat the way you moan and shake when he’s working his fingers on you, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you until you’re incoherent, your poor body trembling, the only thing you can think of him him him.

DRIVE

Though you inspire more sexual desire and drive within him than he’s experienced for the last twenty years, Shouta is still not absolutely desperate to fuck you at all times.

Sure, the idea is nice – being intimate with you is something he craves, but nine times out of ten this intimacy takes the form of simply holding you. Sitting beside you with your head resting on his shoulder, a blanket covering the both of your bodies as you snore softly and cling to him in your sleep, showing that you feel safe with him, that you trust him to protect you.

(Shouta is normally able to keep his staring in check and not be too terribly overt with it, but in times like these he allows himself to openly gape at you, those dark eyes of his examining every detail of your face. Every small wrinkle, every hair and mole, even every lash and baby hair that frames your cheeks. You’re just too damn pretty, and like this he can commit every last detail to memory – as if he hadn’t already, as if he doesn’t sleep at night with your face dancing through his dreams, as if he sees flashes of you in everything he does. As if he isn’t thinking of you as unconsciously as he breaths.)

He generally imagines sleeping with you (and genuinely just sleeping – curling up with you in his arms and his face buried next to your neck, the scent of your body and shampoo filling his senses and making him breathe out something that walks the fine line between a sigh and a moan), the peacefulness and tranquility of just having you close to him in the safety of his protection and home.

It’s a type of intimacy that gets Shouta red in the face, the idea so domestic and taboo and foreign that he comes to crave this on a near constant basis, serving as motivation and a way to calm himself when his students are out of control or a villain is being particularly difficult.

But of course, Shouta is only a man, and men have needs – no matter how he tries to keep his obsession with you as innocent as it possibly can be, sexual thoughts trickle in through the cracks of his mental fortitude and leave him with a phantom wonder of how you’d taste – would you be sweet, like the jellies Hizashi had gotten him? Would you be rich and savory? He hopes you’d have a strong musk to you, a smell that he can breathe in and think of you, something that gets his salivating and his body growing hot and his fingers restless and his breath heavy and labored and god –

He’s hard before he knows it, immediately covering his face with his hands because it’s equal parts embarrassing and terrifying how easily you manage to affect him, just the simple thought of you getting his entire body on edge.

And so he eventually takes up masturbation with you in mind, feeling dirty and disgusting each time he recovers from his orgasmic high, making it more and more difficult to look you in the eye without thinking of all the depraved things he’d imagined doing with you mere hours before.

But Shouta thinks he can survive – sure, he wants to fuck you, needs to kiss you, has to see the face you make when you’re coming, but he can control himself. He won’t succumb to the urge to break into your (frustratingly poorly protected) apartment to run his fingers along your pretty skin and fuck his fist mere inches from your face, no matter how badly his body yells and begs him to. He won’t cross this boundary – it’s hypocritical to think of himself not as a pervert at this point, but it’s the only way he confidently resists you.

Except, then you go and force him into kidnapping you – and now you’re with him nearly all moments of the day, your scent in his bedroom (though he knows you never willingly enter there, and he doesn’t force you to), your body always just a heartbeat away, the idea of holding you and kissing much, much closer now.

And even with the constant temptation, Shouta manages to hold out – it’s torture, really, forcing himself to be a good man and giving you privacy, to not touch you, to not press himself against you and feel the contours of your body against his own, but it’s worth it to him. He can’t force anything – he doesn’t want to scare you, and he has this horrible, sneaking suspicion that if he propositioned you, you’d feel too afraid to say no.

And just the thought is enough motivation to keep him from touching you, to keep him celibate from you purely by his choice – even if it starts affecting him physically.

(He’d never, ever admit it to you, but his lust for you becomes so extreme that if he’s gone more than a week or so without having touched himself to the thought of you while you’re under his care, his cock starts physically hurting when he sees you, his hips involuntarily twitching when he hears your voice, his throat feeling dry and his cheeks blooming bright red because god, he’s never wanted to fuck something so bad.)

And so, Shouta forces himself to be an outstanding man – but no one can be alert every moment of every day, and it’s only a matter of time before you catch him in a moment of weakness. Because really, while Shouta was suffering, you were certainly undergoing a struggle of your own – you’ve been stuck with him for a few months at this point, trapped in his modest apartment with everything you could ever need with one glaring, important exception: human touch.

You don’t necessarily want to be physical with your kidnapper, but as the days pass and you slowly come to accept the fact that you won’t be escaping Eraserhead, things start changing. You’re still understandably frightened of him, worried that although he’s not harmed you in any way and hasn’t forced you into much aside from your captivity, he’ll show his true colors and make your life even more of a living hell.

But that doesn’t happen, Shouta staying that familiar presence you’ve become accustomed to; steady, quiet, consistent. Except the more days that pass, the more you start noticing other things about him – he’s strong, isn’t he? You see it when he walks from the bathroom to his bedroom with the towel tightly fastened at his waist, showing off the lean muscle of his arms and torso.

(He can feel your eyes sometimes, but tries not to dwell on what your staring at his naked chest could mean because getting his hopes up means getting them inevitably crushed.)

He’s awfully attentive, isn’t he? He listens when you speak, those dark eyes boring into you and your every wish – aside from escape – granted without so much as a complaint.

And sometimes, he’s a little attractive, isn’t he? In a rugged, man-ish way – a way that makes you gulp and press your thighs together a bit, because something about the stubble that coats his chin and the veins that litter his hands and forearms makes it difficult to breath correctly.

And then the daydreams start – little thoughts about how it would feel for those hands to touch you, for those lips to brush against your own, for his hair to tickle your neck as he hovers over you, his hips moving slowly and rhythmically against you, gruff grunts of your name filling the air between you.

They scare you at first, really, but soon you can’t stop yourself – you know it’s the lack of human contact that’s influencing you, but as time passes and you grow more desperate to know if he’s as attentive in bed as he is everywhere else, you’ll stop caring.

And Shouta can sense that something’s changing – he feels you watching him, notices the way your eyes follow him through a room, how you suck in the sharpest, smallest breath when he nears you, how you grow stiff when he has to flex a muscle in front of you to lift something heavy. Shouta knows that something is different – but it’s not until you grow brave one day that everything is confirmed.

It’d been a long, tiresome day for Shouta – his class had been especially rowdy today, with a simulation villain attack that the teachers participated in, and of course he’d ended up assigned to spar with Todoroki – meaning he’d been moving about, his muscles tired and sore from multiple hours of repetitive fighting. Then he’d had an extra patrol directly after, the villains particularly restless and causing more trouble than normal. Coupled with a nasty rainstorm that had him half freezing to death, Shouta wanted nothing more than to melt into bed, ideally with you beside him but knowing better than to wish for foolish things.

And when he’d stepped in the front door, you’d been waiting for him, sitting nervously on the couch. You’d stood up, but Shouta – despite feeling slightly more awake and alive at the sight of you, like normal – was still exhausted, already on the brink of unconsciousness as he gruffly greeted you. You looked nervous, twiddling your thumbs and biting your lip, but Shouta was too tired to properly ask about it, only mentally noting to check on you tomorrow.

Slumping towards his bedroom, he was abruptly stopped with you grabbed his hand, his entire body going rigid. Your voice was quiet when you asked him why he always seems to avoid touching you, asking if he didn’t want to, if he was repulsed by the idea of touching, if he was repulsed by you.

And Shouta, still half delirious with exhaustion, let the truth slip from his lips before he could help himself – explaining just how badly he craves to feel you, imagining you in every lewd position he can think of, noticing the way your pajama shirts sometimes grow tight when you sleep and roll over, exposing the outline of your breast and nipple and making him physically stop in his tracks and nearly drool like some horny teenager.

Every secret was spilling out of him, his voice still tired and coarse but making your jaw drop, the admission that he’s been fantasizing about making you a mess on his fingers and tongue and cock stunning you. You’d known Shouta harbored some sort of feelings for you, but this?

When he finishes detailing the fact that he regularly fucks his fist to the thought of you at least twice a week after you’ve fallen asleep, you release his hand, immediately missing the warmth of his skin.

Shouta rubs at his eyes, still not facing you, but muttering a small goodnight and retreating to his room, only realizing what’s happened the next morning. His hands shake and he bolts from his bed, his eyes wide and his heart racing, something horrible and feeling like shame and dread sitting in his chest because why the fuck had he told you that?

Facing you the next day has anxiety sitting in his every nerve, his actions jerky and on-edge, an he’d nearly bolted back to the safety of his room when he sawy you sitting at the kitchen table, but then you’d done something unexpected – you’d walked up to him, stood in silence for a moment, then grabbed his hand. Shouta had been confused, unable to ignore the way your hand fit into his own and the softness of your skin against his, but you’d not given him a chance to even ask questions – soon your lips were on his, and your hand had placed his on something warm and soft and squishy –

Shouta gasped against your lips, the feeling of your breast in his hand and your tongue swiping at his lips nearly making his knees buckle. He didn’t respond to your kiss for a few moments, forcing you to pull back and stare at him, something like worry and rejection reflected in your eyes, but it’s not until you whisper in a very small voice that he snaps out of his stupor.

I want you Shouta, and I know you want me.

You were in his bed moments later, his hands frantic and eager and shaking as he practically ripped off your borrowed pajamas, fingers moving fast and settling over every part of your body, seemingly unable to decide on where to stay.

It was rushed, desperation clouding both of your senses, but as Shouta threw your leg over his shoulder and pressed wet kisses against the juncture of your shoulder and neck, his whispered affirmations of his love for you only had you pulling him closer, adoration and shock and something so happy it nearly hurt filling his chest.

Perhaps, just perhaps, something in you loved him as he loved you.

MAIN THREE KINKS

Clothed Sex

It’s about convenience for Shouta – he’s not lazy in the bedroom, but although he finds you irresistible and is normally willing to expend what very little energy he has on sex with you, he’s willing to take any shortcut he can.

Of course, sex with you in an ideal world sees the both of you completely nude, your bodies pressed as close together as physically possible so that not a breath of space lays between them. He likes being close to you, feeling every inch of you, the intimacy of it unmatched and making Shouta revel in the fact that you’re really there with him, that he’s really getting to touch you, that he’s really getting to kiss you and touch you and fuck you, just as he’s been fantasizing of for months.

But that said, there’s a strange allure to clothed sex – it’s taboo and a little dirty, something that makes him feel a little warm, his palms growing a bit sweaty because it could happen at any time. Whenever the mood strikes him or strikes you, he could simply unzip his pants, shuffle them down a bit and fish out his cock, and he'd be ready to go – already half-hard, the eager anticipation of your touch exciting him from nearly the moment you entered the room.

And it’s easy access to you, too – not that he’d ever take advantage of that fact, your consent still something he asks for every time he touches you. It’s easy to slip your panties to the side, sinking you down onto his lap as he groans and his head lolls back, the feeling of your warmth making his toes curl. He just likes how easy it all is – no time is wasted with struggling to get off your shirt or his pants, and the desperation to be inside you that always seems to overwhelm him at the most inconvenient of times can be attended to that much faster.

He just thinks there’s something so hot about it – he’ll specifically stock you with clothing to wear that makes this easy – flouncy skirts and shorts that make shoving everything to the side and bunching his fist into the cloth to get better leverage while he pounds into you.

He’ll get you tank tops and things that make fishing your breasts out of your top easy, so that they can freely hang and jiggle as he bounces you up and down on his lap, your nipples hardening and shivers racing down your spine as he flicks his tongue at one.

He’ll buy underwear that doesn’t chafe when he shoves it to the side, the pretty sight of lace against your skin making him feral, making him fuck into you harder and more frantically because you almost look like some sort of lewd present when you’re wearing that lingerie – like his very own present, the one thing in the world he wants more than anything else.

And he’ll wear clothing that makes this easy, too – pants that can be unzipped and boxers he can tuck underneath his balls, making sure that nothing gets in the way. And although having sex without clothes is much more common than with clothes, Shouta will surprise you and suddenly press up behind you in the kitchen, telling you that you look too good, that he can’t help himself, that he needs you, and has to fuck you right here, right now, I can’t wait.

And so when you nod, he’ll flip up that skirt of yours – the main culprit for the throbbing between his legs, of course, because the clear view of your legs and thighs makes his mouth water – and slip aside those panties, his cock already out and hard and dripping for you.

It’s spontaneous, more than anything, and it’s one of the only ways in which Shouta is a little carefree with sex – one of the only times that he isn’t serious, or at least as serious.

The main way Shouta likes to engage in clothed sex, though, is through cockwarming. He just likes being close to you – he’s touch-starved, and although he doesn’t have the energy to actually fuck you, he still wants to be inside you, to have your body against his, to have you near and be smelling your scent and hearing your voice.

And so, it’s not a rare occurrence to have him pull you into his arms on his modest leather couch, your frumpy sweatpants and t-shirt (both his, of course, a fact that isn’t lost on him – he will not be washing either of those items when they eventually are off your body) covering your form and his own loungewear covering his.

He’ll shuffle up behind you, pulling you against him so that he’s spooning you, and before long you’ll feel something poking at your ass – something hard and insistent, something that seems to be bobbing and moving every few moments.

Truthfully, Shouta couldn’t say what got him hard – perhaps it was just being with you, or maybe smelling you, or the sight of you in his clothes. It could be any number of things – but his breath hitches as you swallow and carefully tug down the hem of your sweatpants, pressing your exposed ass back against him.

He makes a sound like a low whistle, and then he’s fishing his cock out of his own pants, the tip already wet with precum as he shifts his hips to slip between your legs, propping your leg up over his so that he can push inside. He does so with a small groan, resting his forehead against your back, and he feels you clench down on him.

He’s content to lay there – the warmth of his clothing and from you almost too much, but seeing the way you snuggle deeper into the shirt sending something warm and hot and possessive through his chest. He’ll just pull you against him tighter, the slight shift making the both of you hiss at the small burst of pleasure. He’s content to fall asleep that way – relaxed, his cock still nestled inside of you and hard as a rock, the feeling of your cunt lulling him into dreams filled with you naked and moaning his name, all bouncing breasts and desperate hands and begs for more.

(Don’t be surprised, when this happens, to wake up feeling something dripping out of you – yes, it’s cum and yes, that wet dream was enough to get him there. Don’t mention it, either, because Shouta’s always disappointed that he wasn’t awake for it - after all, call him old-fashioned but finishing inside of you is arguably his favorite selfish part of sex.)

Overstimulation

Shouta is not a stingy lover. In the bedroom, he lives to see you enjoying yourself – it soothes this primal, horrible ache in his chest that yearns or your approval and happiness. A lot of his obsession is born out of a desire to please you and keep you happy and safe, and this translates into making absolutely sure you’re satisfied in every possible way between the sheets.

Sex isn’t really sex until you’ve had at least two orgasms, whether that be because of his fingers or tongue, and only then will he throw your pretty legs up over his shoulders, sinking into you with a sharp exhale and letting his face rest against your sternum as he wills himself to not get too excited, to keep his cool and not rut into you like wild animal. He wants you to enjoy sex with him – he craves intimacy with you and he needs you to crave it too, and he’s hopeful that by giving you the best attention and care in bed, you’ll be more inclined to kiss and hold him, to touch him and whisper those three little words in his ear.

(The three little words that make him gasp and shudder, cum immediately spurting out of his red, swollen tip, his knuckles turning white as he grips onto your thigh and the bedsheets tightly enough to keep himself grounded through the pleasure.)

And so, Shouta finds that there’s something darkly pleasing about being the one to get you orgasming, being the source of your pleasure – seeing your face twist up, your mouth forming that pretty ‘o’ and your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Shouta develops a bit of a sick fascination with seeing just how often he can make you come for him, and from what. It stems from a good place; a genuine desire to make you happy and get you shaking with pleasure and incoherent enough that all you can say is his name.

He likes to choose how you come – will it be his fingers? Will he draw pretty circles on the inside of your thighs, teasing you and feeling the way your breathing picks up a bit, a whine of his name telling him that you’re growing impatient, that you need more, that you need him?

He’ll get closer and closer to your folds, pressing a thumb against them and dipping in ever so slightly, the dull pleasure making you bite your lip, embarrassment eating you alive because it feels so dirty to be teased like this, to keep your legs so wide open for him, to feel the way his eyes are staring at you so fully and intensely, the adoration and lust swimming in those dark depths nearly too much for you handle.

He’ll press two fingers against your clit and get to work, rubbing with light pressure and slowly increasing it, feeling the way the nub gets harder and more swollen, fingers swiping down to collect a bit of your slick to make things easier, the pads of his fingers gliding along your sensitive skin and making your hips jump and twist.

He’ll use his other hand to finger you, rough calloused skin dragging against your walls and pressing right into the spot he knows you love – the one that makes your back arch up, your head pushing back against the pillow, your nails digging into the bedsheets and tangling through his hair. Working you through an orgasm with his fingers is his favorite and what you’ll most likely get – he gets a front row seat, watching with rapt attention as you fall apart for him, feeling the way your thighs tremble and close in around him when you’re right on the edge.

There’s this feeling of power, pride and desire making him light headed and only work harder at his ministrations, ignoring your yelps and gasps of overstimulation because he needs to see that again, to feel the way you clench down onto his fingers so tightly that he has to work to pull them out to thrust back in. You’re just so damn sexy, the sight of you laying before him with your pretty legs spread wide open making him swallow so hard you can hear it.

But of course, Shouta also loves using his mouth to get you off – pink lips attaching to your nipple, sucking and running his tongue over your areola to make you squirm, your little keens making his cock twitch against your thigh.

He’ll kiss at your hips, making a trail down to your clit, giving you little kitten licks while his eyes flick up to look at you, seeing the way you sigh and bite your lip, the rising and falling of your chest making him near feral.

He wants to see you moan and writhe, to feel you grasping at him and needing him, and so his patience wears out and he dives between your legs, slick coating his nose and chin as he licks and sucks and thrusts his tongue against you, eyes closed in concentration and hair getting in his face but he doesn’t care – how can he, when you sound so pretty moaning his name like that?

How can he, when your thighs are clenching around his head and you’re just so fucking wet for him, showing him exactly how much he’s affecting you?

It's euphoric, and soon you’ll be crying out his name and creaming all over his lips, shaking in his grasp so hard that he has to hold you down by the hips to help you ride out the pleasure, the taste of you making him so hard that it hurts.

And god, there’s something about the way you respond to voice and his commands in bed that makes Shouta curse under his breath. You look up at him all wide-eyed, pleasure written across your face as you look to him for guidance, his voice gruff and thick with lust as he tells you to let go, come for me, want to see you come for me.

You immediately furrow your brows and bite your lip, grinding yourself harder against his fingers, feeling the pads of them brush against the spot that has you seeing stars, his name a prayer as you chant it over and over, only stopping to moan or gasp.

The sight is intoxicating, leaving Shouta gaping like a fish with parted lips and heavy breaths, staring at you like you’re something heavenly, divine, unable to tear his gaze away because he still can’t quite believe this is happening, that you’re moaning his name, that you’re letting him touch you and oh, he knows what that change in your facial expression means, how you’re blinding grasping at him, how you’re stuttering out a rushed ‘m coming, Shouta ‘m coming fuck-!

Watching you come undone right before his eyes has Shouta’s cock throbbing, his hips subtly moving against your thigh because he needs friction, the sight of you and the knowledge that he made you this way nearly too much for him to bear.

And when you finally calm down, your breathing wild and your eyes a little glazed over, he’ll just swallow and quickly situate him hips between your legs, gripping himself at the base and impatiently prodding at your entrance, his words dark as he tells you that you’ve got another one in you, give it to me.

When he pushes in – slowly, so as not to hurt you – he lets out a groan, only muffled by the way he leans down to kiss you, feeling the way you tense up and eagerly return the gesture, wrapping your ankles around his waist and pulling him deeper, showing him that you need more more more if you’re going to finish like he wants you to.

And Shouta’s happy to oblige – snapping his hips into you until his muscles are sore and screaming, a thumb relentlessly toying with your clit, his lips against your neck and whispering praise tainted with curses.

He’s encouraging you to feel good, telling you to tell me how it – fuck, how it feels, you’re so goddamn tight, tell me how to fuck you – o-oh…

Because really, while he loves to get you coming and falling apart on his terms, Shouta’s pride flies out the window where you’re concerned – he’d do anything to get you clenching down on him and begging him to finish inside you.

Anything.

Voyeurism

Honestly, it’s a byproduct of having stalked you for such an extended period of time. Watching you was the only way to feel close to you – he wasn’t able to hold you and kiss you, to feel you and lay with you and make you whine his name, and becoming your shadow was the only possible substitution.

And even then, it wasn’t enough – all the guilt he harbors from watching you in your more intimate moments never fades, not even after years of having stolen you away, your pretty body and mind fully his to do as he pleases. He’s still ashamed, but some things he just simply can’t unlearn – and so, even once your sexual relationship begins, Shouta finds himself still utterly excited by the prospect of watching you pleasure yourself.

It’s dirty, horrible, something that makes him feel so guilty he can hardly stand it, but he can’t not stop and watch through the crack in your door when he hears what sounds suspiciously close to muffled whimpers.

He can’t not press his ear against the wooden door, closing his eyes and imagining what you’re doing to yourself – maybe you’re playing with that cute little clit, rubbing it in circles and biting your lip because it just feels so damn good, mimicking the way that Shouta works you up slowly and steadily, getting you so sensitive that your hips jump and twitch at just the slightest bit of pressure against your sensitive nerves.

(He’s had dreams about the way you taste – he thinks you’d be musky, something natural and strong and savory, a taste he wants in his mouth at all hours of the day. And the way you’d tremble and gush for him if it was his fingers and mouth toying with the nub, how you’d tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him closer and closer to you, needing as much of him as possible, needing him him him…)

Maybe you’re sinking your fingers inside of you, working up from one to three, stretching yourself out and imagining it’s him instead, that he’s the one filling you up and making your toes curl, that he’s the one causing all those pretty noises to fall from your lips.

(He knows just how much bigger his own fingers are – he’ll imagine the size difference, his eyes shutting tight when he thinks of how much more he can stretch you out, how much better he can make you feel, how the texture of his fingers must send pleasure up your spine in a way that your soft, comparatively dainty fingers can’t.)

Maybe you’re perched up on a pillow, straddling it with your cunt pressed snugly against the fabric, slick smearing across the cotton as you grind your hips back and forth, hunched over so that the angle is just right, imagining it’s him underneath you and it’s his thigh or cock you’re rubbing against.

(He’s had wet dreams about this sight, always hoping and fantasizing that you’re just so desperate for him that you’re imagining it’s his face you’re riding, his mind conjuring up the sound of your voice moaning out his name and telling him yes yes o-oh fuck yes, Shouta ‘s so good, you feel so good! He’d never seen you riding a pillow during all those months of stalking, but the idea’s just too graphic and wanton and lewd for him to not fantasize about, the idea satisfying the part of him that’s embarrassed and ashamed of just how badly he craves you – because surely if you’re humping some piece of cotton and pretending it’s him, then what does he have to be embarrassed about? Lots, really, but it makes him feel slightly better.)

Or maybe you’ve decided that you want something a little more physical, something to really mimic him – he’d seen you using your vibrator many, many times before he stole you away. His face always turned pink at the sight, his throat going dry and his grip on his capture weapon a little loose as he simply stared, the sight of your pretty body contorting and the plastic held against the crest of your pelvic bone making everything else fade away.

You’re so damn pretty – the way you moan and sigh, how your legs twitch, how your breasts sway and jiggle with every motion, making his fingers ache to reach out and squeeze, to knead and touch and grope, like some sort of pervert.

And this fantasy and mental image has stayed with him long after kidnapping you – once your physical relationship begins and Shouta no longer feels it would make you even more uncomfortable and scared of him, he’s buying you a replacement for that trusty vibrator you used to use to death. He’d left it on your nightstand one morning with a hasty note simply saying I’m gone a lot, I don’t want you to get lonely.

Of course, this is only half the truth – he does want you to be happy, and he doesn’t want you to grow resentful of the times when he’s too exhausted to give you proper sex. But of course, the unspoken portion of this gift is that he wants to watch you use said vibrator – and badly.

He wants to sit in a chair at the side of the bed, legs spread wide as he grips the base of his cock, absentmindedly squeezing at his balls while his dark eyes stay trained on your figure. He wants you to be spread out for him, perhaps a skimpy set of lingerie covering your pretty body (or perhaps none at all, if you’re comfortable with it) with your legs spread wide, the vibrator in your hand hovering against your clit. He wants to hear the steady, dull buzzing sound mixing with your whimpers, to see the way your body tenses up and you whine, feet flexing and shaky breaths slipping past your lips as you slowly work towards your high.

He wants to see the way you eventually grow impatient, changing the vibrator’s setting and immediately crying out, the feeling much more intense and making your orgasm hurtle towards you, getting slick all over the bedspread as you cry out his name and writhe.

And Shouta doesn’t want you to look at him – he doesn’t want you to acknowledge that he’s there. Ignore him, just as you would have back when he was simply watching from outside your window – he wants to watch you, not have a show be put on for him.

You’re just too pretty, and there’s something about watching you that gets him hard as rock, his fist twisting and flicking so quickly it’s nearly a blur as he watches you transition to fucking yourself with the toy, your cries loud and wanton as Shouta grunts and curses under his breath. He wants to finish with you this time, his hips thrusting against his hand in an effort to match the pace you’ve set for yourself. It’s a dirty secret of his, and while Shouta won’t force you into it, just know that he would love to catch you masturbating – just the sight of you pleasuring yourself is enough to get him hot under the collar immediately, hand rushing into his trousers to cup himself because god.

He just likes to watch you, and even during regular sex when he’s folded you in half, those eyes are alternating between watching your face, your bouncing breasts, and your cunt swallowing his cock again and again and again, his cheeks a rosy pink and a bead of sweat dripping from his brow.

You’re just too pretty, he can’t take it – how can he not immediately want to get something of his on you, staining your lovely skin and gorgeous face with his cum?

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE

Hair Pulling

But not on you – unless you like it, in which case he might consider but will only ever do it lightly. He doesn’t like causing pain in general, and would only be willing to do it in very specific scenarios – and even then, it will be as gently as he possibly can.

Rather, Shouta likes when you pull his hair – he doesn’t let most people touch it, and it’s a rare day that he actually runs a comb through it, so as a result his scalp is extremely sensitive. And so, when you tunnel your fingers through his dark locks and pull, Shouta audibly groans, the tingling pain sending pleasure racing down his spine.

There’s just something naughty about it – only you get to touch him like this, so only you get to run your fingers through his hair and tug at it.

He particularly likes when you pull it while he’s got his face between your legs. He likes how your fingers tunnel through it and scrape against his scalp, and he’ll often use it as an indicator of whether he’s doing a good job or not. If you pull often and hard, he knows he’s doing what he needs to do – he’ll keep the pace up and stay in that same spot, doing everything and anything in his power to keep you pulling at it, working through any pain in his jaw or tongue because he needs to make sure you’re feeling good even at his own expense.

When he’s got you perched on his face, your pretty thighs framing his head so that all he can smell and taste and feel is you, he likes to have you reach down and still pull lightly at the roots, your breasts squished together and nipples taut, the visual alongside your taste and the slight pain from his scalp making his eyes roll to the back of his head and precum dribble down his length.

When he’s hovering over you and thrusting into you, balls clapping against your ass and your legs wrapped around his waist, he likes to have you tug at his hair, moaning out and crying his name with each tug and letting his ego swell, each burst of light pain making his hips go harder, faster, deeper, anything to get you louder and clenching around him tighter.

Even when you’re just kissing – simple, innocent kisses full of smiles and his hands gripping you just ever so slightly, Shouta likes to have you running your hands through his hair and tugging lightly, keeping him on his toes and forcing his cock to life.

He just really, really likes to have you touch his hair – it’s something intimate and something he’ll only ever let you do, so really, you should count yourself lucky. Shouta sure does when he’s buried deep inside you, watching your face and feeling your hands in his hair as he gives you every last drop he has to offer.

Mirror Sex

In general, Shouta absolutely loves watching you in bed. He thinks you’re genuinely the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and when you’re gasping on his cock and moaning his name, you’re even prettier, even more breathtaking and lovely and perfect.

And while he prefers positions where he can see your face, he wants to be able to see your expressions always, even if he’s got you bent over while he presses his back to your chest and mounts you like some sort of wild animal.

And so, to solve this problem, Shouta invests in a modest, simple mirror that he keeps facing the end of your ‘shared’ bed – it’s roughly four feet tall and two feet wide, the perfect size so that when he’s got you on your hands and knees for him, your back arching and your arms threatening to give out, he can watch your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He’ll experiment with the pacing of his thrusts, going deeper and harder to see the way your brows scrunch up, how your jaw drops and the most depraved whine slips out of you, pride and arousal swelling in his chest because he made you make that noise.

He’ll go slower and keep his thrusts brushing against the spots that make you gasp just so that he can see the way your lips twitch.

He’ll speed up, fucking into you so fast that his balls slap lewdly against your ass, the noise filling the room alongside your pants and his groans, watching all the while how your eyes flutter and your back arches. He’ll sit you in his lap facing the mirror, spreading your legs and getting to work with his fingers curling and rubbing inside of you, a thumb circling your clit and his lips at your ear as he tells you to watch, pretty, see how good you look?

He’ll kiss a line from behind your ear, down your neck and over your shoulder, occasionally glancing up to the mirror to make sure you’re actively looking, whispering praises against your skin each time.

And he’ll bring you close to the mirror, too – sitting you only a foot away from the reflective surface, letting you get a nice view of Shouta’s favorite sight – your cunt, all spread out and wet, practically begging for something big, heavy, and throbbing to fill it, to stretch it out and make you see stars.

He’ll spread your lips, exposing your clenching hole, smiling at your reflection and making you tell him that you’re pretty, forcing you to grow comfortable with your body because he knows that it makes you insecure to see so much of yourself, and it drives him crazy.

He’ll even fuck you against the mirror – forcing you to watch your face from mere inches away, your hot breaths fogging up the glass, and he’ll make you come like that – holding your chin straight ahead and telling you to watch, sh-shit, watch, don’t take those fucking eyes off your face in a strained voice.

He just likes getting a good view of you during sex – you’re too pretty not to be seen, after all.

BIGGEST FANTASY

In general, Shouta absolutely loves being intimate with you. While he’s no virgin, he doesn’t have an extensive amount of experience, and frankly he’s never been the biggest fan of sex – it’s too messy, too energy draining, and just a massive hassle.

However, when it’s with you, and when you moan his name just right and leave your nail marks down his back, Shouta will gladly strip his clothing at your beck and call, his lips already on yours before you can even finish your sentence.

And while he loves good, rough, passionate sex that’s full of smacking hips, gasps, moans and growls, there’s something to be said for slower, gentler sex, the kind that’s full of airy breaths and slow, meaningful kisses.

It’s the kind of sex where you can really feel him; every inch of him, the way his body covers yours as he hovers over you, the tickle of his hair against your jaw and neck as he buries his face in the juncture of your shoulder and collarbone, his hips rocking into yours and managing to grind against that one perfect spot that gets you sighing out a moan. It’s just more intimate this way, less of a wild, frantic race to get inside of you and more a slow, controlled love making, as embarrassed as he is to use to term.

Regardless, you’re most likely to get this type of sex from Shouta in two specific scenarios – the first of which being after a very long day, filled with a harrowing patrol where he maybe wasn’t able to save everyone, or things didn’t go according to plan. When this happens, he needs to just hold you, to feel you, to hear you whisper his name under your breath and tell him how good he feels, how he’s the best you’ve ever had, how he’s the only one you’ll ever want…

The second – and far more likely – scenario is in the early hours of the morning, when the sunlight is streaming into the modest apartment he keeps you in, your shared bed feeling warm with your bodies pressed against one another. Soft, sleepy morning sex is Shouta’s favorite, and something that he tries to incite as often as he possibly can.

There’s just something about it that gets him hot under the collar; maybe it’s the casualness of it all, the way it feels so natural, so human and so right, as if your bodies were made for each other. Maybe it’s the way it feels so intimate, like you’re both raw, yourselves in the most wonderful way.

Or maybe it’s the way you’re still just slightly sleepy, and you’re much more likely to be clingy at this time, touching him more and letting your real noises come out, not hindered by any shame or hate or embarrassment.

Regardless, Shouta loves it – so on the rare weekends where he’s off, expect to be woken up on the brink of an orgasm just as you deserve.

A yawn slips past Shouta’s lips, eyes peeling open and seeing the gray of his bedsheets. Everything is warm and soft, and as he shifts slightly, something moves next to him.

Nothing seems real for a few moments as he gazes down at you, your body curled up next to his own. It doesn’t feel real that you’re really here – in his bed without any clothing, happily sleeping without a care in the world. He swallows, something coming over him and moving him slowly – carefully – peel off the covers, moving down to where your legs slightly part.

He leans down, face mere inches away from the tufts of your pubic hair, his eyes fluttering closed as he inhales. You’re perfect – and as he gently pries your legs open further, Shouta can’t help but think of how often he’s fantasized about this very moment – how often he’s dreamt of what’s between your thighs, how he’d lay awake at night and press his fingers between two pillows, grinding his fingers against the cotton and pretending it was you, imagining how warm and wet you’d be for him.

He swallows, determination setting his brow as he lays onto his stomach, shuffling so that he can lightly lick at your inner thighs, eyes closing at the familiar taste of you. He takes his time, going slowly and softly, licking closer and closer to your pretty folds, eventually reaching them and licking his lips at the taste.

A thumb comes up to slowly press against your clit, knowing too much pressure would hurt and not warm your body up the way it needed. He continues his licks, before switching roles and starting to suckle at your clit as a finger dips between your folds, collecting the slick and rubbing it between his fingers.

Soon he’s pressing one inside, feeling the way your thighs twitch slightly, a small, sleepy moan ringing in his ears. God, you’re so damn perfect – even unconscious you’re enough to get his cock throbbing against the cotton sheets.

He keeps his pace slow, but as time passes you stir a bit, and when he hears your sleepy voice mumble out his name, Shouta curses, his fingers speeding up a bit.

That gets you more awake – soon your fingers are carding through his hair, sighs and murmurs of his name sounding like heaven.

“Mm, Shouta, that feels good…” You mumble, still dazed from waking up. Your hips are twitching now, a sign that the pleasure is slowly beginning to build.

Shouta groans against your cunt, the sound muffled.

Soon his fingers are picking up the pace again, his circles and licks at your clit growing more insistent, and the hands weaving through his hair start to tug – the sensation gets him humping at the bed for a moment, the morning glow still shining on you as he glances up at your face. You look like an angel – shining in the sunlight, your lips parted in a moan, head thrown back in pleasure.

Shouta pulls back for a moment, sending a kiss to your clit that makes your hips buck. He chuckles a bit, licking his lips.

“You’re so beautiful..” He whispers against your thigh, pressing open mouthed kisses against the skin. You hum at his compliment, and he watches as you smile, his breath practically punched out of his lungs.

“Shouta, you’re too good to me…” Your voice is soft, too, and soon he’s back to sucking at your clit, feeling the way your body jolts slightly, the pleasure making you sigh and swallow. He watches the movement of your throat.

“Feels good, mm yes, oh Shouta - just like that,” You start, eyes closed again, and Shouta finds himself abandoning the gentle pace he’d adopted, instead being more insistent, more pushy – suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to get you coming on his fingers.

You gasp lightly at the new change in pace, grinding your hips to match the new stimulation, and it makes Shouta dizzy. How can you be so attractive? How can you look so perfect in this moment; in his bed, moaning his name, looking and tasting and smelling like his own personal slice of heaven?

It’s cheesy and he’s almost embarrassed, but tears prick at the corners of his eye.

Soon your gasps have turned to moans, and all too soon you warn him in a slurred voice that you’re coming, your back arching up off the mattress and your moans light and airy as you gush against his fingers, white coating all the way down his knuckles and onto his palms. It makes him choke a bit, the feeling of your cunt rhythmically clenching down on him and your chest heaving, and with a final lick to your clit that makes you jerk, he’s moving up to kiss you.

The kiss is slow, his tongue brushing against yours and wet sound filling the room, but Shouta doesn’t mind. How could he, when he’s never felt this relaxed before?

His eyes slowly open as he feels your fingers wrap around him, a thumb brushing along his tip to collect a bit of the wetness there.

“Shouta, let me make you feel good.” You tell him, your voice just a whisper.

He looks at you, his lips parted for a brief moment, before a small smile quirks up the corners of his mouth. “Why would you do that?”

You trace the line of his jaw with your free thumb. The slow strokes of his cock have him a bit distracted, but he hears every word you speak to him. “Because I love you.”

He swallows, the words making something feel tight in his throat.

You laugh a bit at his silence and the dumbstruck look on his face. “What? Do you not love me too?”

And to answer that, Shouta scoffs, leaning down to kiss you again as he grasps himself around the base, pulling himself away from you and pushing into you, feeling your sharp intake of breath against his lips.

His pace is slow, soft, like he’s trying to tell you something – hips moving slowly and deeply, letting you feel every inch of him. He kisses your neck as your head falls back, your eyes fluttering closed.

Pressing a kiss against your collarbone, Shouta smiles against your skin, a groan falling from his lips.

“I love you, more than you’ll ever know.”

And he means it – you’ll don’t know half of the things he’s done for you, and as he squeezes at your breast and hears your soft moan, he knows he’ll never tell you.

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