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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.

#yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere aizawa #yandere eraserhead #bnha smut #mha smut #_bnha #_shouta aizawa #_lee's profiles

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tired-teacher-blog · 1 year

Text

Blissfully ruined

Characters : Aizawa/ Fem reader

Genre and Warnings : NSFW/ 18+/ Fingering/ Oral (fem receiving)/ Sexual Intercourse/ Hair pulling/ Creampie/ One Shot

Summary : Built up tension turns into a night of pleasure.

Please do not read if you're a minor

Masterlist|Second Masterlist

_ "Come on babe we have to go." he called out to you from where he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, fixing his half bun as an annoyed expression was plastered across his face.

He hated those events the most, being forced to socialize with people, heroes, he sees on a daily basis as a UA teacher and a pro, when he would rather be laying in bed with you in his arms.

He doesn't see the point of it, and it's just more trouble than it's worth.

_ "Okay I'm ready!" you cheered excitedly as you emerged from your shared bedroom, wearing a beautiful evening dress that hugged your form perfectly.

_ "Oh fuck.." were his first words as soon as you came into view.

He took a few steps forward, caging you in his arms and bringing you flush against his chest, "can't we just blow this thing off and have fun of our own?" his longing eyes traveled down your plunging neckline as he licked his lips eagerly.

_ "We have to go Shouta," you giggled softly before pecking the corner of his mouth, "but.. I promise you a fun night as soon as we get back home." you winked playfully before untangling yourself from his persistent clutches, leaving him wide eyed and wondering if he'll have enough patience until later..

It was as hard as he expected it to be, watching you from across the enormous hall as you sipped your drink and exchanged laughter and pleasantries with your friends.

_ "Hey man! Did you hear what I just said?"

Of course he didn't, he didn't have enough regard to Hizashi's jokes like everyone around him did, nor did he give a damn about the consistent attempts to involve him in meaningless conversations. You had his undivided attention and you knew it.

You could see the intense desire in his eyes that followed your every move, and he wasn't trying to be subtle about it either, it was actually a miracle none of his friends had commented on it.

However, he wasn't the only one distracted by unholy thoughts, in fact, you were struggling yourself to keep a clear mind but it wasn't easy..

Of course it wasn't, seeing your man clad in an expensive black suit that accentuated his defined muscles was a rare view that you wanted to engrave in your brain, but more than anything, you just wanted to drag him home and rid him of his attire already.

You placed your empty glass down and bade your friends good night, before giving your boyfriend a side look and stepping out of the hall.

It took him mere seconds to follow you outside, eyes gleaming and jaw clenched in apparent irritation, "well that was a drag, come on let's hurry back home, I'm about to lose my mind because of you."

A shiver ran down your spine as you knew precisely what those words meant, and the drive home felt like an endless torture despite your apartment being only a few blocks away..

_ "Shouta wait, wait.. let me take my heels off first." you protested feebly, too consumed by your desire for the man kissing your neck to do anything further.

_ "I'm done waiting, you don't seem to understand how hard it's been for me to hold back, do you?" he hissed impatiently, lips leaving the abused flesh of your neck to latch onto your own expectant ones.

You were as desperate for him as he was for you, this dashing man -yours- who's able to weaken your knees and drive you mad with a simple touch.

You ran your hands down his chest, relishing the flexing muscles underneath your fingertips, and moaning against his lips as he pulled you closer to him.

_ "Shouta, take me to bed." you demanded in between eager kisses, and were granted your wish instantly afterwards, as he picked you up in his arms and marched straight to bed before placing you gently on top of the soft, fresh bedsheets.

Your hands moved to the fabric of your beautiful dress, working desperately on freeing you from the confining garment, only to be stopped by the familiar deep voice, "no honey, not yet."

Not yet..?

What he had in mind was a mystery to you, although to be frank, you were too aroused at that point to question his wishes.

You laid back down on your squishy mattress, looking into his darkening eyes and surrendering yourself completely to him, as anticipation ran through your veins.

_ "Gorgeous.." he muttered huskily, leaning in to place wet kisses along your exposed cleavage, "I've been craving this the whole evening, so I hope you're ready for it."

You arched off the bed with a cry of your beloved's name when his stubble grazed your sensitive skin, eyes rolling back and teeth sinking in your lower lip as his warm hands slipped under your dress and traveled up your enticing thighs.

You instinctively spread your legs further for him, silently inviting those long fingers to sink into your core.

_ "So eager already." his amused chuckle fanned over your neck as he teased, though his rough digits did slip under your panties as you hoped.

He fondled your sopping clit slowly -agonizingly so- as if to frustrate you further, to push you into vocalizing your desires, he's always been a tease after all.

His lips moved to claim yours in a heated liplock, and your hands shot up to clutch onto his raven locks as you wished to deepen the kiss.

And without a warning whatsoever, his fingers stopped moving for a moment to pull your panties down instead, removing the garment swiftly and hiking your dress up further, "I've got something even better for you," and you shivered as he whispered his promise against your lips, half lidded eyes twinkling as they followed his movements.

He sat up at once, licking his lips seductively before diving in to ravish your cunt, and doing so in a flash that all you could do was lay there and take it as uncontrollable trembles ran all over your body, and a slew of unintelligible words left your parted lips.

You squeezed your thighs around his neck as he teased your folds, eyes rolling back and soft fabric of your dress falling onto his head to conceal him from view and render his moves a mystery, "Shouta.." you mewled feeling his familiar hot tongue twisting around your clit, his movements were slow and deliberate as he caressed you exactly where you needed him to.

_ "Wait!" you gasped when the sneaky muscle breached your hole and grazed your sensitive gummy walls as it moved in circular motions, and the slight shaking of your legs as they further tightened up on his neck, were a clear sign of your approaching release.

You grabbed onto the bedsheets beneath you and bucked your hips against his face as his tongue fucked you faster and deeper, "I'm cumming! Shouta I'm cumming!" you squeezed your eyes shut and whimpered your warning as your pushes against his invading tongue quickened.

He hummed delightfully and carried on ravishing your cunt until you spasmed uncontrollably against him and finally came to a halt, and that was when he emerged from between your aching legs, sitting up and smiling mischievously before licking his lips to savor every last bit of your glistening slick, "delicious, as usual." he growled as he proceeded to unbutton his dress shirt unbelievably slow, almost in a teasing manner.

He knew what he was doing to you, your impatience was clear as day.

_ "Shouta.." and it was barely above a whisper as you struggled through labored breathing, reaching out for him with trembling arms that yearned for a touch, just one simple touch to quench your aching need.

_ "So glad to see your eagerness because honey, this is far from over." he purred softly, stripping off his button up and throwing it to the floor without a care in the world, and leaning in for a hasty kiss that left you thirsting for more.

Your blurred vision cleared up at last, and you swallowed thickly as you watched him slowly freeing his raging cock from the suffocating confinement of his pants. He was hard, painfully so, and you knew just by witnessing the throbbing shaft that he was at his limit already, "ready for me princess? I can wait for a few more minutes if you want, I would hate to overwhelm you."

However, his half lidded eyes and flushed skin, his struggle to control himself as he palmed his cock, only proved how hard it was for him to hold back, "I'm okay, I want you now Shouta, don't make me wait please." you pulled your dress up higher, exposing yourself to him again, your puffy little cunt squeezing around nothing and your whimpers were his cue to fill the emptiness in your core.

_ "I got you honey," were his words before sinking into your heat with a satisfied sigh that escaped his throat, you felt like heaven as your hot gummy walls hugged him perfectly, "fuck, you're driving me nuts.." he grunted blissfully as he clasped your thighs and started moving slowly, eyes watching your cute quivers of pleasure and sweet moans of satisfaction as you gathered the soft fabric of your dress in a wrinkled ball.

His thrusts were deliberately unrushed at first, relishing the thrilling friction created of your connection as he rolled his hips and touched that delicious spot within you.

_ "Keep going.. please.." you were barely in control of your speech as you voiced your plea, everything about this man drove you closer to madness.

Everything..

The heavy shallow pants erupting from his heaving chest and fanning over your skin as he shaped your core into a perfect fit for his cock, his soft messy hair falling over his face as his half bun almost came undone, his knitted brows and glowing eyes watching you closely, the glimmering sheen of sweat covering his defined muscles, his big warm hands gripping your hips tightly -to the point of bruising- and pinning you in place as his thrusts gradually quickened.

Just, everything..

_ "It feels so good inside of you, fuck, you're mine you get that?" he almost sounded desperate as he sank deeper into your heat, over and over and over again, searching your aroused face for a response that you struggled to provide between your uncontainable mewls.

_ "Yours.. yours.. always.." you let go of the wrinkled fabric of your dress at last, and dug your fingers in his arms instead, "kiss.."

He smiled softly hearing your shy request, leaning in until your chests touched, and pecked you once, just once —quick and gentle.

_ "Stop teasing me, you're mean.." you were adorable to him, all desperate and needy, and he couldn't resist the urge to devour your pouty lips.

You pulled on his hair and let out a yearning whine as he sucked on your tongue, and it drove him so wild that his hips slammed harder and faster against yours.

You were at the edge of an overwhelming orgasm that awaited you both, and it wasn't going to take much longer until you crumble in each other's embrace.

_ "Shouta.. oh God I'm.." your heart pounded in your chest and your legs tensed around your lover's waist as heat started pooling within you.

_ "I know sweetheart, me too, fuck.." he growled against your neck while his thrusts became erratic.

_ "Don't pull out, please cum inside me!" you couldn't understand what came over you at that moment, your words surprised you as much as they did him, but one thing for sure, you didn't regret any of it.

His cock pulsated deep into your core as the smooth head kissed your cervix, "I love you princess.."

His murmured words vibrated against your collarbone and they were enough to send shockwaves of pleasure throughout your veins.

You cried out his name and fluttered uncontrollably around his cock, your nails digging into his shoulders as you felt his warm pearly seeds coating your walls.

He finally pulled out of you, allowing his sperm to trickle down your cunt, and kissed your temple lazily before trapping you under his weight while your poor beautiful dress was crumpled between your spent bodies, "are you feeling alright?"

_ "Perfect, but you ruined my dress so I hope you're happy." you whined playfully, biting down on his neck and licking the spot right after.

_ "Oh I'm very happy, and I'll buy you a new one so don't worry about it." he cooed softly, with the intention of ruining the promised garment as well as he did this one.

#aizawa shota x reader #aizawa shota x y/n #aizawa shouta smut #aizawa shota x you #aizawa shota smut #aizawa shouta x you #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa headcanons #aizawa smut #aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #shouta aizawa imagine #shouta aizawa headcanons #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa smut #bnha smut #mha smut #shouta aizawa fluff

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thetreefairy · 5 days

Note

Heyyy 🤍

I wanted to request a platonic father Aizawa, in which his daughter is really stressed and he finds her crying, almost in the border of a panic attack. And how he helps her, etc.

A little context of this request is that today i had a panic attack hahaha. So basicly confort and a slight angst ñ.

Thanks love 🤍

she/her reader (f/f) - favorite food tw: panic attacks, yandere undertones but not so much because I accidentally mixed up requests, so I did tone it down extremely so that it was just father Aizawa but because of that i had to cut some scenes, so sorry if it's like messy.

sorry for the late response, internship is depleting my energy levels like a fucking leech (love my internship though) <3

this isn't my best piece since I kept the panic attack vague as there are many ways to like have a panic attack so I didn't want to be too specific.

Reader always had been an anxious child, that's why Aizawa Shouta wasn't a fan of her being a hero student. Even as a support student.

While she inherited his quirk, she was rather talented in science and making support items, so she chose the support route.

Shouta saw it as a comprise, this way she won't be involved in direct combat and she would still be able to live her 'dream'.

"Reader?" Shouta called out as he opened the door of their apartment, he had come home late after a rather nasty fight with Shigaraki. "I brought you back some (f/f)."

That was something he rather often did when he got back from a nasty fight that was actually on TV. Ever since his new class, he wasn't really an 'underground' hero anymore, so his fights were more available to the public. The downside of that was that Reader could watch them.

He heard a rather loud sob and he saw his daughter wrapped up in a banket, watching TV, the news sender. "Oh, baby." Aizawa cooed instantly, thinking she was crying because of his fight. He placed the food on the table and rubbed his baby's shoulders. Pulling her in for a side hug. "Papa is okay."

Well he was right to some extent, Reader wasn't just crying for her father. She was crying about her support items, she had given her papa a prototype of one of her eye-creams (which she made with recovery-girl as a trying something new thing) and a taser that paralyzes the person at the receiving end for like an hour or two, so why didn't he use them?

He could have ended the fight quicker and less injured, Reader was panicking because she thought her items weren't good enough. That they failed her papa when he needed them. When Reader didn't make a sound besides heavy breathing and sobbing when Shouta pulled her in for a hug, he realized that something else was going on as well.

"Petal?" Reader was too quit for Shouta's liking, so he pulled the weighted blanket over her. She was either having a panic attack or mad at him, so he'll comfort her until she's able to tell him what she wants. "I'm going to keep hugging you, okay?"

He felt a weak nod but Reader was still breathing too quickly for his liking. "Now, I am going to do some breathing exercises, wanna do them with me?"

She didn't respond so Shouta silently started to guide her breathing and when she was breathing properly he whispered comforting words in her ears.

"Papa?" Reader asked softly. "D-did my taser fail you?"

"Huh?" Shouta asked confused, then it clicked to him, the prototype. "Oh, papa lend it out to Midoriya, my biggest problem child, remember him?"

Reader nodded, Midoriya often hung out with her in Recovery girl's room because he usually got injured a lot but also because she made a cream to help with his joints but that cream needs recovery-girls quirk to be made.

"He keeps getting in trouble so I gave him your taser, since it has multiple uses so that he can run instead of fighting."

"...So you didn't hate it?"

"No, I love it baby." Shouta cooed, his poor baby was rather insecure and weak. He really shouldn't let her watch the hero news-channels, perhaps he should just keep her safe and sound in the apartment. (the league of villains have been becoming way more aggressive and calculating for his liking). "I love everything you make me, you know?"

"But you would tell me if I need to improve?" Reader asked softly, she needed an answer to that, so that she could be for sure if he was sincere about his compliments and feedback.

"Of course, whenever have I sugar-coated anything?" He grinned up to his daughter with his trade-mark shit eating grin. Reader chuckled weakly, she felt better now, but the small voice in her head was still bullshitting her. (At least for Shouta would it always be bullshit, and Reader? Well she'll need some convincing)

"Never."

"Exactly, how about I call in sick tomorrow and we go to a cat café huh?"

Hope you like it<33

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dark-elf-writes · 3 months

Note

(raises hand in confusion not 100% understanding how the mechanism works) What The Heckaroonie would Eagle Eye Vision paint the BNHA side of the cross in?

Like I figure that All Might due to AFO's involvement might be Gold (or it's actually Eagle Eye somehow seeing his golden OFA aura, or he sees the OFA colors which is Confusing, or it can't process all the souls/imprints at once so it settles on something headache-inducing).

Aizawa might scan as Blue but with flickers of Red when he's mad. Nezu is Nezu so I think it'd be funny if he skitters the whole dang spectrum depending on how strong his maniacal tendencies are at that moment (but generally leaning Blue).

But like... say Kamui or Endeavor cross Desmond's path. Red because very strong Opinions about "villainous acts" and bullheaded belief that the reports of him being a terrorist are still valid?

Would the Nomu even have a color if they have no personal intent or will depending on how Brain Blasted the individuals are? Or are they solidly Red because they're brainwashed/programmed to have Omnidirectional Violence as default?

Most of the people Desmond would see would be gray or, if they have information he might find useful, white.

I think part of why he likes messing with Aizawa so much is no matter how irritated the man gets with him he never wavers from the bright blue shine in his eagle vision. Even before Desmond officially met him he could see a blue figure following him and was definitely curious/ half convinced his father had sent an assassin to tail him. Shouta however is blue because even when he was told about his new mission he doesn’t immediately jump to the conclusion that Desmond is a villain. The man has always had a soft spot for vigilantes for as much as they give him migraines.

I can definitely see All Might registering gold. But funnier would be the idea that the vestiges are just… hanging around him and he can’t see them but Desmond can at least with Eagle Vision active. Des is mostly irritated that he’s not even just hallucinating his own ghosts anymore he has moved on to others’. He also can’t look directly at All Might with it active because the combined glow of all eight of them is fucking blinding and he gave himself a headache the first time he tried. And the second. And then what sounded like Malik’s voice was calling him a “foolish novice” so he stopped trying.

I would like to think that Nezu if anyone other than Desmond was looking at him would fluctuate constantly between all the colors but for Desmond he’s pretty solidly blue and gold. Nezu has a soft spot for fellow test subjects and broken people trying their best to make the world better.

Most of the heroes are gray or perhaps a light blue. No one understands why Desmond distrusts Endeavor and a few other heroes on sight and he feels incredibly vindicated when certain things eventually come to light (*coughtouyacough*)

I also feel like Izuku is blindingly gold but for the life of him Desmond can’t figure out why. At least until they get thrown in the middle of the brewing war and Desmond realizes with a sickening lurch that they are just like him. And unlike everyone who watched him walk willingly to his death, Desmond isn’t about to let the same thing happen to a teenager who didn’t ask for any of this.

#the elf talks #mha #bnha #assassins creed #Desmond is one more loss away from going scorched earth #possibly literally with that arm

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freya-fallen · 1 year

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Yandere Shouta and quirkless UA student

Part 2

You're like Izuku in that you've always admired heroes, but your quirk never magically appeared like his did, so you go to UA as a general studies student. Not even in that course are there many like you, so you kinda stand out.

In a bad way.

Shouta doesn't notice at first. You're not one of his, so it doesn't matter.

Until, one day, when he's woken a little late from his post after-school work nap, he sees little ol' you being beaten up. He sees how you challenge the bullies despite being defenseless, and he's a little impressed.

Instead of getting involved, he watches.

He watches when you walk home through a not-so-safe area, and when you go through your nighttime routine without any adults in sight.

He watches for a few days, surreptitiously, to see how you're treated like an outcast. "Alone" is the single most pertinent word to your existence.

He doesn't know how you do it, how you live this way when you're not safe. You seem so happy.

Why are you happy, as weak as you are, when he's so miserable? He's a hero. You're just a quirkless kid.

He can't get you out of his head-- your smile, your life, your defiance, your self-reliance, all draw him like a moth to your flame. So he decides that since you have no one to miss you, he'll take you.

It's a risky, strange, selfish impulse that grows into an obsession. He spends months getting everything ready. It'll happen during the break at the end of the school year. He'll take you and you just won't show up to school again. You'll slip through the cracks.

It's better this way. For you. He will take such good care of you. You'll eat better with his salary, not all prepackaged sugary shit. And you'll have decent clothes other than your school uniform.

You're cute, too cute for the shit you wear outside of school. He'll see to it you're properly dressed.

He finds himself getting excited at the idea of taking care of you, slowly increasing your dependence on him. And you'll be grateful, too. You'll want to make him dinner when he comes home, clean up because he's too exhausted, cuddle against him while he naps on the couch, and...

He's getting ahead of himself. He has to bring you home first.

#yandere imaginings #yandere eraserhead #yandere aizawa #shouta aizawa #aizawa headcanons #my hero academia aizawa #aizawa x y/n #reader #my hero academia #my hero imagines

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circledotdestroy · 3 months

Text

Retrospective - Chapter 2: The Insult of Injury

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x F! Pro-Hero! Reader (slow burn)

Main Summary: After 12 years, you, Pro-Hero Strife, has to return to Japan. Your objective: discreetly track down and capture Akari Kaneko, a.k.a. Pro-Hero Aegis— your old classmate who attacked you during her visit in America. In the aftermath of All Might losing his power, however, using UA resources has its complications. The most unexpected complication being Aizawa, someone you never expected to see again. Why does your past have to come back to haunt you now? Masterlist First chapter Next Chapter Word Count: 5585

A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to post. While I was gone I got my first big girl job and my beta reader has been having trouble with her computer, so I had to obsess over the prose by myself. In the end, i had to split my planned second chapter in two because it was almost 10k, so that's fun. Also, I uploaded this fic to Ao3 and I added the tag "Autistic Shouta Aizawa" and I'm the first one to tag that in an X Reader Fic??? I thought it was a popular headcanon lol Anyway, you've waited long enough. I hope you enjoy!

Head hung over porcelain, gloved hands gripped onto the sink. A giant hammer banged against your skull from the inside leaving sparks in its wake. Neurons like shooting stars lived behind your eyes. “Sparks…” You gulped back nausea.

Murky puddles of colors blurred together. Light blue stalls behind you, slightly opened, but empty. A massive void leered through the mirror with slivers of red. Hunched, panting over the counter. Burning wounds spreading out, conquering the rest of your cold skin. Not so different from the last time you needed a healing quirk. Cold, clammy, and disgustingly pitiful in one of the dark backrooms of your agency–because doing paperwork was better than being by your lonesome with nothing. The main difference this time around was the mortification that came with breaking down in a high school bathroom.

You were going to smack Akari for what she put you through.

The thought stabilized your shaky breath. You straightened your body, your hands still grasping the counter. The pressure released from the stab wound. It steadied you and you were grateful.

The last thing you needed to add on this little business trip was a reunion with Recovery Girl. She had first-hand encounters of your nonsense. Dealing with the aftermath of you being a menace to society— or “younger” if someone wanted to be polite—more times then you can count. You went to her office a lot–sometimes for yourself. Sometimes. It didn’t matter if you started more “advanced” in your class, you weren’t immune to scraps, bruises, or the occasional slip up during training. Other times, it was for other classmates. Some you sent her way after battle trials, but other times you popped in to take supplies then ran out.

One time you asked when she was going to retire, she said whatever the Japanese equivalent was for “until I croak”. That was after she threatened you with her cane, but you laughed it off like the cocky child you were. You thought even if she could land a hit, it wouldn’t hurt that bad. After all this time, it’d be disappointing to tell her you got in a fight and lost at your big age. Maybe she’ll try hitting you with her cane again, you thought. She’d have an easier time now.

But no. Dealing with the effects of one healing quirk was enough. The risks of getting her involved drowsiness at best, or possible death before the investigation gets shot down at worst. Investigation aside, it’s becoming apparent your healing process isn’t where it’s supposed to be. The itches, the burning… no one is in this bathroom with you, but you’re burning beneath cold skin. Someone who sees you on the street can say: “It’s only been two days! Walking around, catching a flight, that’s a MIRACLE for only two days!”

However, that’s the problem. It’s already been two days. With the healing quirk, you’re supposed to be at least 75%, but you’re not pushing fifty.

Removing your hands from the sink, you brought them to your sides. It was hard to know where one pain starts and where the other ends. Everything burns and your body is compelling you to turn around and throw up nothing. You flexed shaking fingers into fists. Your stomach was turning inward. It’s been a while since you ate. Perhaps you should’ve brought something on your way here. Even if it was stopping at a konbini and picking up one of those stupid-ass nutrition cookies Aizawa used to eat for lunch every day of the week. You swallowed, shaking your head. Food can wait. You can wait three hours. If you eat, you’re going to stay nauseous and dizzy anyway… unless you do something about it.

With a shaking breath, you glanced over your shoulder then at the door. There was no charge down your spine, so no people were close by either. You flexed your hands again, eyes closed, counting your fingers rhythmically. The sparks died down. The pain became more discernible. Abdomen still fresh and oven-hot. Knuckles chaffed, raw, and bruised. Your legs: thighs sore from jumping during the mission, your left knee ached, and the top side of your right foot was especially tender. Your shoulders, your back, behind your head.

You kept the rhythm until your lungs demanded release. When you exhaled, the pain dwindled. Not completely. Warmth still lied below your skin, at a near simmer. When you opened your eyes though, the blacks and reds weren’t blurred together. They were a clear, albeit crooked mess. You fixed the red arm guards first. When that was done, you had enough energy to fix the rest of your uniform.

Daring to move around, you inspected your fixed outfit further. When it passed inspection, you grabbed your briefcase below the paper towel dispenser to your right. Hitching your breath, you reached for the black handle. Your right leg carried all the weight to avoid setting off a potential mine-field of injury. At first contact, you swung the case on top of the sink then opened it. There were many compartments at the top, one housed a phone the boss gave you, since your old one was collateral damage. There were few numbers inside the cell. Only the ones you thought were most important to include. One of them was for the agency medic, which you cleverly titled as “Medic” to make sure you don’t call more than necessary.

This development with his quirk, unfortunately, was necessary. Rocks filled your stomach. Your mouth feels like you ate gravel. You can hear his reaction to telling him his ‘all powerful quirk’ wasn’t helping like a future sense. He’d make the concussion he diagnosed you with worse if you called.

Wanting to grip the phone harder, you clenched your teeth. This whole thing was stupid. You could’ve kept your guard up. You could’ve stood up, knife be damned, and run after Akari. Stopped her. Asked her what the hell she was talking about— All these choices you could’ve made–all those years of training, and you still got a concussion. Seven minutes passed when you finished typing your little update. It was better to give him a heads up now. It helps against accusations of Akari annihilating your brain cells at the fight.

The next person you contacted was Athena, your Support Expert. It hasn’t been long, but you needed an update on something. Even if it was just your uniform and equipment.

The message itself was quick. Though, you couldn’t help following up by asking if she knew anything about one of the crime scenes. You then thanked her, again. Heaven knows you keep her busy when you need new equipment. During the past two years alone, you’ve asked a lot from her. Whether you needed a new arm guard, gauntlet, or a whole new uniform, she came through every time. It’s hard to get an SE who specializes specifically in power-based quirks. From what you’ve experienced, and heard from other heroes, most SEs don’t appreciate their designs getting decimated. Their creations are children in their eyes. Athena’s creations aren’t as precious in her eyes, by comparison. She has a spreadsheet dedicated to how long until the creations get busted. Keeping up with these records is her research. It changed constantly, telling her what works and when she needs to switch things up.

You should bring her something when all this is over, you thought. She deserved something nice. Something that says “I’m sorry for wrecking all the support items you made me during my missions, you’re the best SE ever!”

The phone went back inside of its compartment, next to the pouch where five hologram disks were held. A surge of panic came through you. Thinking of the horrific scenario of traveling all this way and forgetting essential items for your visit today. You tore open the pouch. Heart in your ears and heat crawling out your back. Two disks were labeled, three were not. “CS1” and “CS2” were in the pouch. Good. You glanced at the other objects in the case, double checking everything was there before you met up with the principal. Folders, notebooks, paperwork, until relief washed over you in a cool wave. Closing the briefcase, running your hand across the leather. Slowing down to trace the broken heart emblem, similar to the one on your breastplate.

Your power won’t get rid of the hammers in your skull, or the itch around stitch wire, but the thick material will prevent you from scratching. Plus, no one else would know about the other bumps and bruises beneath.

You got this.

Leaving the bathroom, you pulled out Hizashi’s instructions one more time. They were less blurry and a bit easier to understand. You may actually have a chance to get out of the maze disguised as your alma mater. Ironically enough, before you could turn the corner, a white rat-bear-dog shorter than a yard-stick— wearing a black vest, blocky, yellow shoes, and had a gangster scar across his eye—came around. “There you are! It really has been a long time,” he greeted, like you’ve seen him before. He didn’t give you time to respond to him, he just explained how he waited at the meeting spot until it occurred to him how long it’s been since you were a student. The principal also made many changes since the time you graduated, which he insisted on showing you. This welcoming gesture forced you to tail him around the floor, instead of simply going to the meeting spot. You didn’t like the idea of walking around, not with that flare up earlier. You were still abnormally sore. But he can’t know that. You squared your shoulders, nodded your head, and quietly marched on.

There weren’t many rooms to make note of. Most of them were regular classrooms. You already saw where the current classroom for 1-A was before you ran into Aizawa. Apparently your old classroom is being used for one of the first year general education courses. The principal asked if you’d like to look inside. You declined the offer politely. At the end of the day, it was just a room. Another room with desks, windows, and a chalkboard in the front. What more did you need to see? You didn’t explain that last part, obviously, and the principal went on talking about other changes around the school.

At one point, he interrupted himself, stopping in front of one of the other doors. This time he didn’t ask you before opening it. “And here is my office.” The principal revealed a room with a giant window behind a desk. The orange light from the rising sun shone through the window casting deep shadows on the office furniture. If you stepped closer, you’d see everything outside the window. The brightness made you queasy. You opted to focus on the gray couch instead. “It looks a little different compared to the last conversation we had here,” he commented.

‘Last conversation,’ you wondered. Then it hit you.

This principal wasn’t new.

Your principal never left UA. How you forgot your principal having a gangster-scar, you weren’t sure. There was no one like him. Absolutely no one that you’ve met.

Muffled words and a shadow in front of a stark blue window came to mind. Paws holding stacks of paper, hitting them against the desk to straighten them out. Were you supposed to add on to what he said? Were you supposed to apologize? He didn’t look unhappy.

But you could be wrong. Would it be a surprise if this was an act? Taking you on this walk so you’d waste your time telling him everything? You looked to the right and left side of the hallway. If the resources weren’t valuable then you’d walk yourself out first.

The principal didn’t follow up his statement with anything about the past or the future. He closed the door to his voice and rambled his way to nothing. He probably wanted to get a reaction out of you, but you were too confused to give him one.

After a while, the stitches got tighter. And tighter. And your legs were becoming sore. Of course, you clenched your jaw to keep quiet. If he caught on, he’ll send you to Recovery Girl then bye-bye. She hits you with her cane and Nezu could press a button to eject you from the building.

Honestly, where was Hizashi? You knew he was supposed to be busy with work last night, but he said he’d be here for the meeting. It was supposed to start soon and you don’t want to be in a room alone with a passive-aggressive rat-bear-principal. Maybe he was telling Nemuri you were in town.

Or maybe he would try to find Shouta and they could all be talking right now! Aizawa would tell him about you leaving him in the hallway, saying you were rude, demanding to know what’s going on. Aizawa was pushy enough. Hizashi would tell him about how you called him, hurt and asking for help. Despite Hizashi’s best intentions, Aizawa could use this information to raise doubt against you in the meeting. Get rid of you before you become a problem, his problem.

You needed to find Hizashi before that could happen.

As luck would have it, the tour was coming to an end. The last stop led to a blond man leaning against a door down the hall with his arms crossed. A blond man with a punk rock style and a speaker around his neck. A blond that bounced his knee impatiently because he couldn’t bear standing still.

Hizashi!

His head snapped in your direction. He, like a ray of sunshine, grinned ear to ear. “And look here, folks!” Hizashi rushed toward you, “coming out of the cage, ready for her GRAND COMEBACK–” you gripped your briefcase tighter, your eyes wide and almost bouncing, expecting impact. Hizashi pivoted around you, putting a hand on your shoulder. “It’s the Queen of Terror, Pro-Hero STRIFE!”

It’s been over five years since you’ve seen him in person, longer since he’s called you by your hero name. You beamed, he was here. In the same room, not across the world. You thought of hugging him, but stopped when you remembered your old principal was still here.

Hizashi moved closer, leaning into your face without such reservations. The amber reflection of your uniform was in his sunglasses. His hand dragged across your shoulder where the raised mending peaked. He looked toward the principal with his hand on the side of his mouth, like he was trying to tell you a secret. “I was waiting forever,” he fake-scolded, loud enough for the third party to hear.

Glancing at the principal, you saw he was watching the two of you. He had a smile on his face, but his eyes were blank. You stepped out of Hizashi’s grasp, standing properly. “I had trouble with the directions.”

“What? Getting rusty after being away for so long?” Heat rose to your ears. Of course you were going to be rusty. Did he really have to tease you about it now? “She really knows how to keep her fans at the edge of their seat,” he said to the principal casually, like he wasn’t Hizashi’s boss.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” the principal responded, making you aware of the side eye you were giving to your old friend. “I was giving Strife a tour of this floor. After all, I’m proud of the changes I made to UA since your graduating class. I couldn’t resist showing off to one of my former students. Strife has certainly grown from that child I remember.”

Hizashi agreed with your old principle with a joke. “I hope that’s a good thing.” But you know there’s no good way to interpret the statement. Not with what he said when he showed you his office. Who brings up a time where they had to talk with you in a GOOD way? It’s like when your parents brought up how one of your dad’s coworkers caught you sneaking a cookie from the agency's break room when you were supposed to stick to a meal plan. Like, “oh, we sure hope you have better impulse control compared to when you were eight, even if you do, we’re going to reference this story over and over again so you never forget your moral failure!” He’s wearing yellow sneakers with formal wear, why is he passive-aggressive!

The conversation didn’t go further, thankfully. “There is time before the meeting, I’m going to set up. Feel free to catch up here in the meantime,” said the principal. You both thanked him as he went into the room. The nausea came back at the sight of the wooden swirls closing, your heart was starting to pound. After all, maybe he was planning to air it out with an audience, you couldn’t know for sure with his emotionless eyes.

“Did you really not have nicer clothes,” Hizashi asked, breaking you out of your trance. He was loud enough for the whole building to hear.

Your nose scrunched. “The damage wasn’t THAT bad…”

Hizashi shook his head. “I’m not talking about the damage. Last time I saw you, there was more…” Hizashi held his hand out, waving it toward your body. He went through a jumble of words before he decided on one. “Color.”

The last time he saw you in person, you were twenty-four and in-between agencies again. He was celebrating the first anniversary of his show being picked up for a radio channel. After celebrating the anniversary, he took a short vacation out of the country. It was the first time he was allowed since his career started. When Hizashi finally arrived in the States, you wore a uniform. It had less hard armor and was more red. Red breast plate with your black broken-heart emblem, which resembled that old Pac-Man arcade game. Gauntlets with red finger and knuckle pieces and armguards to contrast the black base of the gloves. Some other details like the center of your knee and elbow pads, the tips of your boots, your utility belt, and other lines and trims followed,

Vibrant color bounced off the void background. In comparison, your current outfit was–

“You look like a common mall goth.” You tilt your head at him. Before you can say anything about calling you “common”, he continued. “Actually it’s worse!” Hizashi stepped closer to put his hands on your shoulders, pressing into the raised mark on the left. He leaned closer to your ear–was he always this touchy? He whispered, “you look emo.”

You punished him back, somewhat gently. “Hizashi, what the hell,” you said in English. Why was he making you worried over nothing! And calling you emo…

He laughed, wagging his finger at you like you were some brat. “Nuh uh uh. It’s Mic. We’re professionals and we’re working.”

“What do you mean ‘professionals’? What was professional about that!”

“I’m a radio host too, I have to play it to the crowd!”

You scanned the halls. “Where!” No one was here! A thud echoed across the empty hallway. In your confusion, you accidentally threw your briefcase across the hall. You stupidly remember the rule ‘no yelling in the hall!’ rule as black leather slid across the purple floor. Oops… You sigh as the briefcase spins to a stop.

Mic continued laughing. You grumbled, giving him your back as you approached the briefcase. To think, you considered hugging him earlier. The man walked behind you. “Don’t be so stiff!” You stared at the briefcase, almost rolling your eyes, he had no idea. You pondered how you were going to pick it up. If you did it the same way as you did in the bathroom, it would look suspicious. And dorky.

His eyes were on you, you could feel it. If you waited too long then Mic would volunteer to get it for you. That would make him ask questions though. “Right,” you broke the silence before he could. You squatted with bated breath to pick up the briefcase. Your knee almost popped and you wanted to tear into the wound, but you weren’t going to tell Mic that. Not now, at least.

Somewhere more private. AFTER you were sure he wouldn’t talk to Aizawa about anything. But first, you’d need to say you met him earlier and it didn’t go well. You can save Mic the drama, not going into specifics. Other than that, what’s one more thing to the pile? He’s in the dark about Akari, for now. He didn’t need to know Akari was the reason why you called him from your medic’s phone the other day, right this minute. You’ll have to go over everything in the meeting anyway, so why waste time?

“I would’ve gotten that,” said Mic.

“But you didn’t.” You shot back, harsher than you meant to. “It’s fine. I forgive you,” you stated with a pouty lip. You hoped the joke would mitigate the unintended force of your words. Mic probably didn’t notice, or he thought it was simply the set up to the punchline. “What have you been up to?”

Mic gave you an elaborate update on the past few weeks. His summer was busy since the Sports Festival. As usual, he was booked out when it came to the radio host and DJ gigs during the beginning of summer break. He told you all positive things. Dancing around All Might’s retirement as Number 1 Hero. You imagined he’d describe it as a certified downer if you asked. “...and our first years are about to go for their license!” Mic posed his hands in the rock and roll gesture.

“Wow, already? We had to wait until second year.”

“Because of all the villain attacks. It was decided it’d be better for the students to protect themselves without waiting for a hero’s permission.” There were no bells or whistles attached to the explanation. His hand gestures were minimal as well. While the idea of first years becoming skilled enough to get their license at a young age was impressive, there was no argument the circumstances weren’t ideal. First years shouldn’t have to deal with villains yet, but they have multiple times. Even in America, the youngest an applicant had to be was 17 to get their license. One of the perks of going to UA was being able to expedite the process and get your license when you were 16. You couldn’t imagine letting 15 year olds take the test in America. ”If you’ve watched the Sports Festival, then you know they’ll CRUSH it!” He punctuated the statement with his signature “YEAH!”, putting his hands in the air for extra dazzle.

A beat passed and he broke his pose, asking if you watched the Sports Festival. The question wasn’t as pumped compared to his previous statement. Guilt struck you. Another month’s gone by and you still haven’t watched your friends on International Television. “It’s okay if you didn’t!” He responded, obviously concerned.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I should’ve watched it by now. Work’s been crazy for months. I had to cancel TV because it was wasting money.”

Mic shrugged, with a relaxed expression on his face. “Don’t worry about it! I’m sure I can give you the highlight reel while you're in town. But seriously, you had to cancel TV? You need to give it a rest!”

“No, you have four jobs. I have no excuse–”

“Details!” Mic brushed off your response with his hand. “Y’know…” Mic’s hand went to his face to rub his chin. “You could help out with the first years with the exam. If you have time for it, it could be another paycheck and you can hang out with me,” he finished like you were a kid motivated by cookies.

You raised your eyebrow and shifted your weight to your back leg. “First you say “give it a rest” and now you want to give me more work?” He posed glamorously then switched to another with that somewhat implied you giving him a high-five, but it didn’t look quite right. “Not everyone can multitask like you, Mic.”

“I’m just saying you have the experience. You judged the licensing exams a crazy amount of times—and you mentored young heroes before.”

“I didn’t do any judging this year, and there’s a difference between the American licensing exam and the one here. Also, those heroes already graduated from their program, and I only helped them because I had to. I’m not a good mentor, and, from what you said, I’m sure whoever’s teaching the first years are doing fine on their own.”

Mic paused with his mouth slightly open. His teeth clenched. “About that–”

A colorful blur caught the corner of your eye, but it was too late. A massive weight slammed into your body. The briefcase flew from your hand. What the hell! Your throat squeezed, choking down any sound you could’ve made. First there was shock. Then fire. Then pain. Every. Single. Type.

Everything burned and your bones rattled you from the inside. You had to get this off! You wrapped your arms around, ready to pick up and throw it down the next floor.

Your shoulder shrieked back at the embrace, your legs weren’t fairing with the shift either. In this split-second processing of your senses, it was apparent the weight was particularly squishy in certain places. It had purple hair as well, and she was absolutely thrilled to see you.

Your eyes widened. You lifted Nemuri, having stopped midway from slamming her to the ground. Her stomach was at your eye-level as she laughed with joy. That was good, you set her down., her heels clicking on the floor. You could’ve really hurt her. “--didn’t tell me you were coming to town–got you at the airport! Look at YOU!” The squishiness against your body left, replaced by an ecstatic Nemuri squeezing your face. Fingers pressed your cheeks enough to make your lips puff out. You tried to respond to Nemuri, but you might as well have your mouth full of cookies. The questions kept coming. After a bunch of non-answers, Nemuri took her hands off. Of course it was sore, but it was nothing like the rest of you. Unlike with Mic, you KNEW Nemuri was this touchy. This happened so many times a single memory became a cluster of events.

She turned out of your hold, pointing at Mic aggressively. “Did you know our friend was coming here and NOT tell ME!”

The scene was soon drowned out by your beating heart. Mic’s sunglasses slipped down his nose revealing a panicked expression toward Nemuri. He held out your briefcase to shield himself from the heat of the backlash. He was talking fast, explaining himself. You pressed your lips tightly in contrast. If they weren’t then you’d pant like you did earlier.

Nausea arrived once again like a recurring nightmare. Placing your hand over the stitches to push through the thick material did nothing. As predicted, the pain couldn’t be snuffed out. Keeping your face neutral was an uphill battle between scalding heat and pure annoyance.

Screeching thoughts scolded you to ‘stop scratching!’

Then the surge came.

Mic and Midnight were focused on each other. One was mad, one was somewhat scared. It gave you something to work with. Your breath deepened as you flexed your palm against your uniform. Once again the pain separated and simmered down. The only agony on the surface was the itchiness of your wound. It wasn’t perfect. You just had to bear with it—the healing process.

And watch out for any other attacks from your friends.

The hand on your abdomen balled into a fist. An invisible knife stabbed back inside the wound. Hopefully, the pressure could substitute the need to claw at your skin until your insides spilled into a puddle on the floor.

Before you got comfortable, something to your left burned through you. Not from a wound, or your quirk. Someone watched you down the corridor. Turning your head, you lowered the invisible knife.

“Aizawa,” Mic called out to him, but didn’t get a response. Aizawa’s attention was on you. Did he see what you did? There was no way he saw the whole situation, you thought. Just when you shanked yourself with the imaginary shiv. Even if he brought it up, so what? It was weird, not illegal. “Look who’s here, isn’t this exciting!” Mic continued. The way Aizawa kept staring you down made it clear he was expecting you to flinch. Maybe you weren’t doing something illegal just now, but he can say you stormed off from him. Which is worse in this context. A lot worse.

Aizawa tucked a blue file folder he was looking over into his arm with the others. “We saw each other earlier,” he responded coldly. He wasn’t excited to see you. Not today. Not ever. You stood your ground, waiting for him to tell them you walked out on him again, but it never came. He moved past, preferring not to be in the same room with you more than he had to.

“That’s it! C’mon don’t be like that! How often do you get to see an old buddy?”

“Just stay for a minute!”

He continued on his path, not responding to any of their pleas until he reached the door handle. “The meeting is starting soon. Don’t block the door.” He went inside, the door clicking shut behind him with an echo.

“Harsh…” Mic said.

Midnight turned to you. “I thought he’d be happier,” she said wistfully. You don’t blame her for hoping.

You shrugged, lifting your hands. ‘It is what it is,’ you thought, not quite remembering a good translation.

Midnight hummed. Mic moved on from the initial shock, opting to check out the detailing on your briefcase. No follow up questions from either of them. Throughout the years, there was never a time either of them mentioned Aizawa being their coworker. Not that you should care. They didn’t have to tell you anything about what he was up to. If he wanted you to know he could’ve told you himself. Whatever he did was none of your business, so why would they tell you?

Maybe they should’ve. It certainly would’ve avoided this mess. Although, the thought didn’t cross Mic’s mind. He probably heard the muffled yells of the medic for you to give his phone back and dived in with no questions. No hesitation.

Nonetheless, he could’ve warned you about Aizawa in the email he sent you after. Did he think you wouldn't come back if you knew ahead of time—if you knew Aizawa would be here? Probably not, but damn, dude, give a warning.

Midnight broke through your thoughts, asking how long you were planning to stay. She comments on the tension without any out of pocket comparisons to the devil’s tango. You reassured her you should be gone in two weeks. If you were going to do your research here, no doubt it would be uncomfortable for her and Mic if that’s how you’re going to interact with their friend. “I hope we can do something while you’re here. It’ll be fun,” Midnight offered half-heartedly. Even if you sucked at keeping contact for the past year, she was still nice to you. Although, it’s doubtful you two would have time for each other while you were investigating and she does her jobs.

“Count me in!” Mic puts his free arm around your shoulders, he doesn’t add any pressure, but your arms squeezed into your ribs at the unintentional threat. Like one wrong move and your skin would seer through kevlar and leather. “We have to grab a bite!”

Your ears perk up, stomach coming to the forefront of your thoughts. You were drooling at the thought of finally being able to eat some bomb-ass food.

The passage of time went faster with the distracting fantasy. Not long after agreeing to Mic’s invitation of food, and having to hear a long list of places you couldn’t go to this very moment, the meeting was close to a start–made apparent by the next pro hero arriving to the meeting room. Your friends introduced you to another one of their coworkers, Snipe, who was dressed as a cowboy and actually packed heat.

The lovely thoughts and curiosity came to a halt upon entering the room. Aizawa glared at you for disrupting him from reading what he had in those folders. Without breaking eye contact you reached toward Mic so he could give you back your briefcase, so you could put it down somewhere.

Aizawa went back to his folders, rubbing his temple like your presence alone vexes him. You chose to place it in the corner of the room by a potted plant. You were careful not to grunt as you squatted. Ignoring the pain, you swiped the pattern on the briefcase, for good luck even if you hardly believe in such a thing.

Call it habit or instinct, but you glanced over your shoulder after. Of course, there was Aizawa. He eyeballed you, waiting for you to make a mistake. You clenched your jaw as you stood up again, adjusting your uniform before walking back toward Mic toward the center of the room. If Aizawa saw an opportunity, an opening to get rid of you, he’d pounce.

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #mha x female reader #retrospective by dot #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x you #whump #tw pain #yamada hizashi #nemuri kayama

25 notes · View notes

amaya-writes · 1 year

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you can get JJK/ mha men reacting to reader with long hair that they had to cut their hair shorter (any short length) and are insecure? 🙏

Notes: sorry I only went with four characters for this one!

Warnings: n/a really

Characters involved: Gojo Satoru, Keigo Takami (Hawks), Aizawa Shouta, Nanami Kento

Gender-neutral reader, you/yours

Gojo Satoru

Immediately showers you with a hundred compliments.

Gojo understands that while others might think it's just a haircut, getting rid of your long hair after a lifetime of keeping it that way can be a jarring change.

This is why he wants to be by your side through the process and wants to ensure you feel as confident as possible.

If you're the type to use hair accessories a lot then he'll probably buy you a lot of different fancy clips, hairbands, etc. to compliment your new look.

He even goes out of his way to particularly compliment your hair when he's calling you pretty.

Overall, Gojo's pretty much like a hype guy who's constantly trying to reassure you.

Keigo Takami (Hawks)

Is way more subtle than Gojo.

Keigo doesn't outright point out your sudden change because he knows that can make you feel anxious especially since everyone else keeps on bringing it up. Instead he'll just tell you that you look pretty or subtly compliment your hair.

He doesn't exactly hype you up or anything but if Keigo realises you're a little nervous about the sudden change then he'll definitely have a small conversation with you where he basically tells you that you look good with both short and long hair and that you should own your new look.

Keigo's compliments centre more around trying to make you feel confident rather than trying to make you feel pretty.

If you're partners then he might even shower you in kisses and offer to help you style your new hair (tries to convince you to style it like his sometimes).

Aizawa Shouta

Aizawa knows what it's like to have people comment about your appearance since he's always kept his hair long (and someone always seems to have a problem with that).

When he first sees that you cut your hair short, his first concern is ensuring you like your new look and didn't cut your hair impulsively.

Once he establishes that Aizawa will tell you that as long as you're happy with your new hair then you shouldn't let anyone else's opinions get to you.

He's also one of the few people who realise how this change can impact you emotionally as well (since people generally tend to go through such drastic changes when they want to move on from their previous stage in life).

He'll sit you down and ask if something happened, etc. but won't pry too much unless the two of you are close.

If you changed your hair because you always wanted to do it/fjust felt like you needed a change then Aizawa won't really say much.

But if it's because you're trying to start a new phase in life he'll encourage you to pursue whatever goal you have your mind set on while also reminding you not to lose yourself along the way.

He's worked with impulsive teenagers long enough to know the starting signs of someone going through a phase and completely changing themself but then regretting it later and Aizawa would never want you to go through something like that.

It's why he just tries to ensure this new change of yours is more positive than the result of an existential life crisis.

Nanami Kento

Doesn't really react much.

This isn't because Nanami doesn't care but more because he knows you're probably overwhelmed with everyone in your life going on and on about their opinions of your sudden change and he doesn't want to add to that.

It's why he'll wait until the two of you have a moment to yourselves and just quietly tell you that you look good with your new hair.

He also tells you that your new hairstyle doesn't change his opinion of you, just as it shouldn't change your opinion of yourself.

Nanami doesn't really acknowledge your hairstyle after that. To him, that one conversation was enough to express his opinions and he doesn't see a point in bringing it up again.

However, if you both are partners he might buy you something like a silk hair bandana or another similar hair accessory that is classy yet can be used almost every day.

It's a meaningful gift that's supposed to subtly express his support.

259 notes · View notes

adminbryantsaki · 16 days

Text

Under the Moonlight

Alpha ! Werewolf! Prince! Shouta Aizawa x Beta! Bodyguard! reader

(I do not own My Hero Academia or any of the characters within the universe. They all belong to Horikoshi Kohei. If this isn’t your cup of tea, blend of spices, or brew of coffee, move on. Reader discretion is advised.)

TW: Omegaverse, hierarchy, slight fear, sex scene and aftercare, drug den, heat and rut enhancement, masks.

WC: 4,853

The night was clear and you could see all the stars twinkling in the sky as you stayed at your post outside the castle that belonged to the Aizawa family. There were threats to the members of the family recently so more security was hired for this event. The threats had been focused on the Prince who was said to be a werewolf and some of the townspeople didn’t like the idea of a hybrid being their next ruler. You didn’t involve yourself much into the matters of the royal family but you were happy to get the job to guard the place for the night of the Spring ball. This event took place every year in hopes that all the young and eligible people in the land could find their mate and live happily ever after. That wasn’t quite your thing and you weren’t destined for that kind of happy ending because you were a Beta, and Betas in this kingdom weren’t often mated with Alphas or Omegas and given typical service jobs like yours as a security guard or something like a farmer or chambermaid. You were wearing a black suit and dark glasses as you leaned against the pillar and waited for someone to come and relieve you.

Soon, one of your co-workers came to relieve you so you could go inside and take a break and get some refreshments. You straightened your blazer before going inside and eyeing the refreshment table as all the other party-goers were mingling and dancing on the dance floor. You could see the prince with his dark hair tied back in a low ponytail wearing a black and silver mask that obscured his face so you couldn’t get a good profile on him but you could tell that he was attractive with how many of the young women all dressed up for this

Event to try and catch his eye and hoping to be his mate.

You were sipping on a glass of punch when the song ended and some of the young men came to the refreshment table to grab some food or a drink for their dancing partner. You looked over the crowd, seeing if there would be any suspicious characters lurking in the corners of the room. You didn’t know that the dark eyes of the prince had locked on you as if you were his prey and he was your hunter. You didn’t notice that he had his attention on you until he was heading in your direction. He approached you and stood by your side as he filled a cup of the cooling drink and looked at you.

“Hello. I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. May I ask your name?” You heard the deep rumble of his voice sound in your ears as you caught a whiff of the pine and roasted coffee beans that was the Alpha’s scent. You looked to see his piercing dark eyes staring right into yours like that of a wolf staring down their prey before an attack as he took a drink of the fruity cocktail. You met his eyes and you seemed to be frozen in place as his gaze was intense and strong. He moved through the small crowd that separated the two of you, soon standing before you.

“My name is Y/n. You haven’t seen me because I’m one of the security guards. I only came in for some refreshments.” You told him and he nodded and backed off a step until the band came back to their instruments and began playing a lively tune. The prince looked to you and took your hand, kissing the back of it and guiding you onto the dance floor despite your protests.

“Wait! I should get back to my post! My boss will be upset if I don’t get back soon.” You spoke as you were pulled into a dancing position in front of the prince.

“Then they will have to answer to me.” He spoke and began leading you through the dance.

As the two of you danced, you could feel all the jealous eyes of all the other women in the room were on you, boring holes into your body as they wanted to be dancing with the prince instead of you.

“Don’t worry about them. Keep your eyes on me.” He spoke as he lead you through the dance until it was over and he bowed to you which you bowed back and the people standing on the sidelines applauded. You felt embarrassed as you noticed your boss looking for you in the crowd. Once he saw you, he locked eyes with you and signaled for you to go to him. The prince stopped you and walked up to your boss and explained everything. Your boss relaxed and still had you return to your post. You leaned against the wall at your post and thought of the dance you had with the prince as you heard the music playing within the castle.

About an hour passes and you’re outside, patrolling the gardens when you get the feeling that you’re being watched. You had the same feeling as before when the prince had focused his gaze on you before he approached you to pull you into a dance.

You looked around the area and didn’t see any sign of him or any other person in the gardens with you until someone grabbing you from behind, one arm around your waist with their other hand covering your mouth.

“Shh, don’t scream, Y/n. Its me, Shouta, the prince?” You heard the same, familiar rumble whisper into your ear that made your insides light on fire and you melt against his touch. Upon hearing him, you relaxed and pulled away from him.

“Shouldn’t you be inside? You’re supposed to be picking a mate from the female Omegas in the castle. Not a Beta like me.” You spoke and looked to the stone bricks that lined the walkway of the gardens. The prince moved closer to you and made you look him in the eyes.

“I should be. But they announced that everyone should pick their mate and declare their relationship. They’re saving me for last so I thought I’d sneak out here and find you because I want you as my mate. I don’t care what others say. All the Omegas in there are spoiled snobs which I don’t like at all. When I first laid eyes on you, I was instantly hooked and drawn to you. You’re different than the rest. I don’t care that you’re a Beta. I want you as my own. Will you let me, have you?” He asked as he held your hands in his. You were dumbfounded and had to process what he was asking of you for a moment then it hit you. The prince, the very Prince, a member of royaltywas asking you to be his mate. His mate for life. You looked him straight in the eyes and nodded slowly then spoke quietly.

“Yes. I’ll be your mate.” You spoke, just barely above a whisper.

“Hm? What did you say? I couldn’t hear you.” Shouta spoke.

“I said Yes. Yes, I’ll be your mate.” You spoke and smiled. Shouta pulled you into his arms and he kissed you gently.

“We should go inside and wait to announce it. Everyone will want to know.” He spoke and led you inside.

You followed him, excited to be mated to him before the night was over. He led you into the ballroom that you were in to get refreshments before and he guided you onto a stage where he held you close and held your hand up in front of a crowd of well-dressed people and announced to them that he had chosen you as his mate and that he would claim you that night.

The next few minutes passed like a whirlwind as the prince guided you out of the ballroom, through a winding maze of hallways like the one out in the gardens to his private chamber that seemed far away from everything else in the castle and he seemed to be urgent to get there.

“My Prince, what is the matter? Why do we need to be so urgent to get here? I know you’re excited to mate with me, but can’t we be a little patient? You’re going to be my first.” You told him as you pulled your hand away from his. He turned to look back at you and to the door of the chamber with worry in his eyes.

“Just trust me. It’s one of the many secrets my family has kept hidden for a long time and its not one to be let out now. Follow me and I’ll tell you everything.” He spoke and led you into the chamber, locking the door and bolting it before leaning against the bar that kept the door from opening. You took your blazer off and laid it against the chest that was sitting at the foot of the bed before sitting on the edge of the bed and looking around to room, taking in your surroundings while waiting for the prince. The bed was a queen-sized mattress in a four-poster bed in a decently sized room that had a simple dark blue moon and star pattern that lined the walls in a checker-board pattern on a lighter blue background, surrounded by crown molding. You saw that the fireplace at the other end of the room was lit and crackling away which gave a nice ambiance to the room. There was a couch sitting in front of the fireplace which would be good for cuddling or even having sex with your new mate sometime in the future. There weren’t any paintings on the walls which some what made sense in a honeymoon suite. It didn’t matter though when you drew your attention to the windows which had their curtains drawn.

You looked up to the sky to see that the moon was full which helped guide the partygoers’ home with or without their mates now that the prince had chosen a mate. Your attention was brought back into the room by a deep, rumbling growl that sent chills down your spine. You turned to see that there was a werewolf standing where the prince once was and fear filled your eyes. You had heard of rumors that the prince had an ailment but it was never decided on what ailment he had. You watched as the wolf man shook his head and looked at you. He stood up straight from his hunched over position and walked to you as you pressed yourself against the windowsill trying to not get hurt by the creature you had been looked in the room with.

“Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you. This is something I’ve dealt with my whole life. I’ve had special healers and doctors come to make me a concoction that suppresses the more wolf-like personality, but it doesn’t do anything for the appearance. I am sorry if I gave you a fright by my growl. It was the only thing I could think of to get your attention back on me.” He spoke as he stepped closer so that you could see him in the moonlight. He had the same features as before but he now had a pair of black wolf ears and a matching tail, his eyes had turned a golden shade of yellow, and his mating fangs had grown long that they almost didn’t fit in his mouth.

“You look fine. It just caught me off guard.” You told him and let yourself relax a little knowing that he wasn’t a threat anymore.

You watched as he moved closer to you, giving you a better angle of how handsome he looked in the moonlight. His dark eyes seemed to have a ring of amber around them and they were fixated on you with a hunger that wanted to devour you alive. You backed up until you were trapped against the wall and pinned by the werewolf in front of you.

“You seem a little scared to be in the same room as me. Like I said before, you don’t have to fear me. I’ll take care of you and I want to have you as my mate and make you my queen… along with another things.” He told you before going in for a kiss which you stopped him.

“What other things are we talking about? I’d like to know what I’m getting into exactly before I agree to anything.” You told him and kept your hand on his chest which felt strong and inviting. Shouta sighed and pulled away from you, sitting on the bed and looking up at you and inviting you to sit next to him which you did.

“I wasn’t only looking for a mate. I was looking for a partner that had the strength and smarts to be my bodyguard when I run my underground ‘business.’ All the others in the past were too scared to even accept the deal. What do you think of being my personal bodyguard?” He asked as he moved closer to you.

“I’d have to think it over as this is all too sudden. Let us get the mating part over with and I’ll get back to you in the morning.” You told him and he smiled, moving in to kiss you gently and help you lay back on the bed he nodded.

“Of course. Take your time to think things over and come back to me with your answer.” He spoke before climbing on top of you and kissing you again, but deeper and with a bit more passion. You returned the kiss and began to unbutton your shirt to expose your neck to him.

“Not too far now, I won’t want to hurt you.” He spoke and watched you roll back the collar of your shirt and take the garment off far enough that your full neck and shoulders were exposed to him. He moved close and kissed your neck before choosing a side and making his mark on your neck and pulling away after a few minutes, leaving you a little winded.

“How did that feel?” He asked as you were trying to regain your composure with little to no luck as the pheromones coming off him were very strong and taking your mind over.

“It felt good.” You told him as your face clearly told him that you had caught a good whiff of his scent and that his pheromones were taking you over, making you relax under him and giving him the perfect opportunity to take the rest of your clothes off and spread your legs open so he could slide in between them and claim you as his mate. The ceremony to make you his princess and future queen would happen later after you’ve had the proper training to be a member of the royal family and all that. But now, you were consummating your bond with the prince as he was thrusting deep into you, hitting your sweet spot every time until you felt your climax reach your body and you released along with him, arching your back as you released and falling on your back and feeling him pull out and pull you into his arms.

“That felt amazing, my Prince. Thank you for that. I’m happy to be your mate.” You told him sleepily as he stroked your hair and kissing your head before sleeping himself. The next morning you woke up and found Shouta laying next to you and watching you sleep. He didn’t have any of his wolf-like features like the night before. He smiled when he saw you wake up and reached over to kiss you. He sat up when the both of you heard a knock at the door. Shouta stood up, wrapped a spare blanket around his waist and answered the door to only find that it was the staff of the castle coming with breakfast, some bathing items, and a first aid kit. Shouta thanked him and the servant left the room. He picked you up along with the bathing items and carried you into the bathroom where he set you in the bathtub as the water was filling up the clawfoot tub that you had settled in. He let you pick a scented soap that he put into the tub and helped bathe you, being careful of any cuts or scrapes you might have on your body. You hissed a little when soap would fall into your wounds but he made sure to wash your hair and rinse it out before helping you out of the tub and wrapped a fluffy towel around you before sitting you on a bench in the luxurious bathroom and laid out the first aid kit on his lap and began to patch up your wounds.

“I’m sorry about the scratches last night. I kinda got away with how good you felt.” He spoke as he applied bandages and gauze from the kit to the scratches and cuts on your back.

“Its alright. I knew you were caught up in the moment. I’m just glad you’re taking care of me since this would be awkward to try to explain to a co-worker.” You told him and he chuckled.

“Getting marked by a werewolf can have other injuries than this but I was being careful. You seemed to enjoy it though by the screams of pleasure you were giving me.” He told you and kissed you on the cheek.

“Did you think over the question that I asked you last night?” He asked as he patched up the last cut and put the first aid kit on the counter.

“Yeah, and I’d like to see what this ‘underground business’ is before I commit fully to this. I don’t mind playing your bodyguard to go check it out, but I’d like to know what I’m getting into.” You told him and looked at him. He nodded.

“Take your time and ask for help from any of the servants with whatever you need to get ready. I’m heading down into the base of operations tonight.” He told you, getting up and leaving the bathroom to change into his clothes and leaving the room to go about his duties. You took your time getting ready; looking over the rolling tray of breakfast foods that was brought into the room earlier that morning and you picked out the foods that you liked and ate them before getting changed and stepping out of the room to see a guard right on the other side.

“Hello, my lady. How may I assist you today?” They asked and began to follow you down the halls as you wanted to find your mate and head to this ‘underground business’ he was telling you about earlier that day.

“I’d like to know where the prince is. He and I have some business to attend to.” You told the guard and they took you through the hallways of the castle to a large meeting room where there were a bunch of important officials in the room, along with the prince who sat at one of the ends of the very long table, looking bored out of his mind by sitting in this meeting. His eyes looked to the doors when they opened and lit up when he saw you standing with the guard.

“Sorry about this, but I must leave now. I have plans with my wife.” Shouta spoke and stood up, walking over to you, and taking your hand.

“Your timing is wonderful, my love. That meeting was going on forever. Are you ready to see what we talked about earlier?” He asked and thanked the guard before leading you again through the castle halls, into the servant’s quarters and down into the wine, beer, and mead cellar. He led you to a secret door and told you to stay quiet as he pressed a lever and the door opened; he pulled you into a place that seemed to be like a whole different world. But before you would enter any farther, Shouta handed you a gilded mask that looked like his. It was the same royal blue and gold mask that he wore to the ball, but the one he was handing to you was a golden color with royal blue designs on it.

“Put it on. Everyone in here wears a mask to disguise what they look like for everyone’s safety.” He spoke and put his own mask on. You put yours on and held his arm as he guided you out into the main room of the den. You took in the various men and women sitting in chairs, on couches, or standing about the room. They all were wearing clothes that fit into a ‘black tie’ category and all had unique masks to obscure their faces. Shouta led you to an empty couch where he told you to sit and relax while he got you a drink.

While you waited, you scanned the room to see if there were any suspicious characters in the room. So far there weren’t any but you were aware of some servers walking around the room, carrying a tray with two bowls on them. One of the servers came over to you and bent down, showing you what was on the tray.

“Take one, the blue pill with enhance your Alpha’s rut and the red pill will enhance your own heat, ma’am.” They spoke. You politely refused.

“I’m a Beta. I don’t experience either of those things.” You told them and they nodded.

“As you wish. I wish you to have fun while you are here though.” They spoke and left you alone. Just then, Shouta came back and handed you a tall and thin glass of champagne.

“Did anyone bother you?” He asked as he took the seat next to yours and put your arm around your shoulders.

“No. I server did come up to me and offer me one of two pills.” You spoke then leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“From what I got, they are heat and rut enhancers.” You told him. he smiled and nodded.

He shifted to look at you and leaned in to whisper something else into your ear.

“You’re right, my love. I run a heat and rut enhancer den. Some of the servers have noticed and heard that there are some people wanting to threaten my life. That’s one of the reasons why I wanted you to come down here and protect me, just in case someone would try and kill me tonight. Understood?” He asked as he pulled away and looked you in the eyes.

“Understood.”

You told him and scanned the room for anyone who looked suspicious or threatening to the prince. There were the usual people that filled the place, already pairing up with other people in the room and taking them into side rooms that probably had nests or dens pre-built in them. There were a few other Alphas that were looking at you with a hunger in their eyes that told you they had already taken the Rut enhancer. You gave Shouta a subtle signal about the other men and women eyeing you and he waved over one of the servants.

“Is my private room set up?” He asked.

“Of course. It’s always prepared for you, your highness.” They spoke.

“Good. Have someone check it over then let me know when it’s ready. My mate here is feeling a little uncomfortable.” He told them and handed them a $100 dollar bill. “Keep it quiet too.” He added and the servant nodded, tucking the money away and under your watchful eye, they snuck into a private room on the other side of the drug den. Shouta turned your attention to him as he kissed you deeply, letting the other Alphas know that you were already spoken for.

A few minutes passed and one of the servants notified Shouta what his room was ready. Shouta nodded and thanked them. He then stood up and led you into his room that was a but larger than what the other rooms looked to be. Shouta’s room had a large den already built for him and whoever his mate was. You were the lucky person to have been picked to be the prince’s mate. You also saw a simple table that held two bowls of the same pills that had been offered to you back in the other room. You frowned and stopped to look at the pills. Shouta noticed and looked at you.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why are the pills in here? Do you take the rut enhancers?” You asked as you pulled away from him.

“I do take them on occasion. But not because my rut doesn’t come as strong as it should be. The pills are made from a natural substance that my men and I found when exploring one of the fields nearby. After some experimentation, we found out that they have aphrodisiac-like qualities. One part of the plant worked better for ruts while the other part of the plant worked better with heats. If you don’t want me to use them for tonight, I understand.” He spoke and he held your hand

“No, its alright. Here.” You spoke and took a blue pill from the bowl and gave it to him, letting him take it from your hand, making your face heat up. He kissed you and led you to just before the entrance of the den and he stopped, beginning by slowly stripping off his clothes piece by piece until he stood before you naked. You could feel your face heat up as you looked him up and down. He chuckled and kissed you again, working your suit off and tossing the garments of clothing to the floor before picking you up and carrying you into the den where he laid you down on the plush blanket-lined floor and climbed between your legs, kissing up your exposed torso and to the mark on your neck which he grazed his teeth over, making you arch your back and moan out loudly as he also slid his full length and knot into you. He let out a low rumbling chuckle from his chest and kissed you again before he began to thrust at a steady pace, slowly speeding up, letting his scent spill out, fill the room, and waft into your nostrils as you held onto your mate as he worked to fill you up with his seed, thrusting into you over and over, making the both of you cum multiple times before you were spent but he could still keep going. He noticed your exhaustion and kissed your cheek.

“Rest my love. I’m able to care for myself. You did so well, darling.” He spoke and kissed your cheek, making sure to wrap you up in one of the thick, fluffy blankets and letting you sleep. He then left the den to finish off the effects of the drug with his hand and a jar to save the cum for later.

You woke up sleepily, back in the room you were the night before. Shouta was sitting in a chair, enjoying some morning coffee and some sunshine that was streaming through the window and onto your face. You stirred and he turned to face you with a soft smile on his face.

“Good morning, Y/n. Did you sleep well?” He asked as he got up and walked over to where you were slowly working to prop yourself up and lean against the headboard of the bed. You definitely were sore from the previous night’s events and you were feeling it today.

“I don’t know much after passing out in your den. But I do know that I’m sore down there.” You told him and he chuckled.

“I figured you would be sore in one way or another. I have a bath drawn for the both of us. I’ll carry you in as walking for you is off the table right now.” He spoke as he pushed the covers back and carried you into the bathroom, helping you get out of the long button-down shirt he had put on you to carry you out of his den before setting you in the warm water and stripping his own clothes off, sliding into the bath behind you and letting you lean against him as the two of you soaked.

The End.

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