dreamingofaizawa
dreamingofaizawa
Love Is A Game
689 posts
| Wai | ✨22✨ | This game is rated R; 18+ only | Hop in a lobby and play your heart away |
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dreamingofaizawa · 7 days ago
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These men just stole the personal information of everyone in America AND control the Treasury. Link to article.
Akash Bobba
Edward Coristine
Luke Farritor
Gautier Cole Killian
Gavin Kliger
Ethan Shaotran
Spread their names!
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dreamingofaizawa · 10 days ago
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COVER SHOT : BAKUGOU x READER : MASTERLIST
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SUMMARY: For years, you’ve been the only assistant in the business equipped to handle foul-tempered supermodel Katsuki Bakugou. That is, until he catches on to your weak point.  CONTENT: model/celebrity bakugou, no quirks au, praise kink, aged up characters, eventual smut, AFAB & fem pronoun reader, implied lighter-skinned reader (see note below), 18+ NOTE: In retrospect, this work is one of my least inclusive. A large portion of the plot depends on the reader’s blush being visible on her skin. I just wanted to make this clear to anyone looking to read this fic, and apologize to any potential readers that this excludes. Going forward, I will endeavor to be far more inclusive in my writing. LENGTH: 16.5k, STATUS: complete
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CHAPTERS: one, two, three, four, five, six
READ ON AO3
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dreamingofaizawa · 12 days ago
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so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god
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dreamingofaizawa · 13 days ago
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Take It
Kensei Muguruma x AFAB! Reader
***This is an 18+ work of fiction, if you are not of age, be gone ***
Warnings: Smutty smut, overstimulation(I think?), squirting, breath play(maybe?), cumflation(kinda?), rough fuckin', then soft Kensei (sorta)
Word Count: 1k
Author's Note: Uh, yeah this popped into my head idk man I'm horny for this guy. You can't convince me he ain't got a massive dick. ANYWAY
Enjoy~
“Still think you can take it, sweetheart?” 
That is what you’d said, when you came to him all those months ago seeking his training. Him being your Captain, Kensei Muguruma, who’s a damn powerhouse and has knowledge you can use to your advantage. You said you could take it, his harsh regimen, and you did. Training with him has proven lucrative, your stamina and strength and sheer power have increased exponentially under his strict and intense guidance. Soon enough you were going head-to-head with him, even though you still couldn’t beat him if you tried. There’s a reason he’s a captain, after all.
All of that training, all the time spent trading blows and bruising each other’s skin. You’d never predict you’d end up in his damn bed.
“Y-yes I ca-” a sharp gasp is ripped from your lungs and your eyes roll back in your head as his weight is thrown into his thrusts, shoving your face further into the drool-soaked pillows. Fuck him for that, he did it on purpose to cut you off. But fuck if it doesn’t feel amazing. His thick, rough fingers dig so hard into your hips you can feel them bruising, but you can’t find it in you to care. He’s a rough man, it’s only fitting he fucks rough.
“Oh yeah? Wanna take it back yet?” He slows his pace, but he’s hitting so deep it doesn’t matter. Damn you can feel him in your throat. You’re still gasping, still trembling beneath his hands and still crying from the pleasure that can’t seem to fade no matter how long he pins you to the bed. It’s been hours. One arm reaches around and loops around your neck, the muscles in his arm cradling your chin as he yanks you back against his chest. The angle shift has you crying out, your legs shaking as you cum hard. He’s just so big, his body and his dick. Every movement sends shockwaves through your muscles and it’s getting real hard to think about anything beyond the pleasure and heat. Sharp teeth nip at your ear, just barely bringing your mind back. What was it he said again?
“Come on, pretty little thing. You can take a hit but can’t take dick? I guess we gotta shift our training huh?” Fuck him. First time in his bed and he’s mocking you for not being ready for it. 
“F-fuck you, Kens-” The corners of your vision turn black when he flexes the arm around your throat and shoves his hips up into you. He tuts, like he’s scolding a damned child.
“No, I’m the one fucking you, silly girl.” The bastard barely even sounds out of breath. Damn it, he won’t even let you finish one sentence or thought. You claw at his arm when he picks up his pace, trembling in his hold for the nth time tonight. He’s slamming into you with every thrust and sending spots dancing in your eyes, you aren’t sure how much more of this you can actually take. Then he reaches over with his other hand to rub tight, rough little circles over your clit and you swear you lose consciousness for a second, white blanking your vision. You can feel yourself squirt over his thighs and your entire body tenses before going completely limp in his hold. His groan is feral, shakes your bones, and he’s using your limp body to find his own end. Briefly, you wonder if this is what it feels like to die, but then you can feel him still and suddenly you feel so full. You’re manhandled into a more comfortable position, lying on your side and tucked safely into Kensei’s chest as you both labor for breath.
It feels like forever before he actually speaks again, and the softness in his voice startles you.
“Breathe, sweetheart.” Shakily, you take a breath, and a shattered sob is forced from your lungs when his large palm presses into the pouch of your stomach where his cock is still buried to the hilt. You grip that arm, albeit weakly, trembling with the effort. He’s going to kill you like this, the pleasure is going to make you pass right out and you’ll die.
“Shh sweet thing. Relax baby, I’ll be gentle.” It’s slow and agonizing, and feels too damn good, as he pulls free of your spent pussy. Your legs shake, he’s reminding you to breathe, the sensitivity between your thighs is at an all time high. You can’t be bothered about the gush of cum that leaks from you when he’s finally free, but when it’s all over all you want to do is sleep. Exhaustion tugs at your mind, and when his lips carve a gentle path down your shoulder and his fingers dig gently into your bruised hips to relieve your tense muscles, you succumb to the depths of slumber.
When you come to, you can’t help but notice that you’re clean. No sticky mess between your legs, no sweat clinging to your skin, no saliva or tears on your neck and face. Even your hair feels clean and washed. You’re still wrapped up in thick, strong arms, the heat of your Captain’s skin seeping into your body. Shivers crawl down your spine when his voice, riddled with sleep and much deeper than usual, ghosts over your shoulder.
“Mornin’ sweetheart. How are you feeling?” It’s so tender it almost shocks you. He can be caring when he wants to be, but usually he holds all the kindness of a drill sergeant even when he wants to be comforting. But now? He sounds so soft, so sweet it’s almost alarming. Big fingers trace over your hip and up over your chest to cup your chin, gently shifting your gaze to where he leans over you.
“Focus baby. I asked you a question.” His gaze is expectant, as it always is. Yeah, it’s definitely Kensei.
“I’m alright.” Your voice is croaky, rough with overuse. 
“Good.” He’s back down again, pulling you tight into his chest and breathing into your hair. 
“Did you bathe me?” He grunts out a yes, and that’s all the answer you get before he’s snoring against your head.
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dreamingofaizawa · 15 days ago
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The Blues Brothers (1980)
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dreamingofaizawa · 20 days ago
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Alright. I simply cannot get the idea of getting hot and heavy in the back of some limo with Ei and a little sprinkle of sneaking around too. I don’t know where this came from or anything so here. I’m leaving it. And that’s all.
It’s sorta smutty so no minors or ageless. They’re aged up, in case that wasn’t self explanatory. Reader gets a little jealous. Other than that it’s basically just fluff with fucking.
I did not proof this what so ever. Sorry. I’m tired. I don’t even have a rough word count for you but it’s pretty short.
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The two of you leaving together after some big award show after he finally breaks into the top 10. Only you’re most certainly not the woman his agencies PR team has been setting him up on dates with. The super model who’s been all over him, the face of his active wear line, the woman they want to see him with.
He’s been putting on a good show for them. Even dipped her in front of all the camera the red carpet was lined with and kissed her as a hundred flashes went off.
But, gods, she’s just not you. The cute little waitstaff always serving drinks at these events. The black skirt they make you wear hugs your curves so tightly and he can see every dip of your plush hips and he remembers what it was like the first time he got to feel you.
He was stiff in his perfectly tailored pants before the hors d’oeuvres came around. 
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The first chance he got, he’d slipped away. Thankfully, his accomplishments were already recognized. He’d done his part, stood up, waved, went on stage, he didn’t give a damn about anything or anyone else. He just needed to find you again.
“I— oh fuck— I’m gonna have to get back before someone realizes I’m— I’m— right there, right there, yes please—!” It was too hard to think when his fingers were buried deep within your cunt.
He had you propped up on the back of his limo. Making you cum with your skirt all bunched up. “Don’t think you gotta go anywhere yet, pretty,” he chuckles and licks off his fingers.
“I do though, I do,” you tried forming a sentence, “I could get fired,”
He pulled your legs around him and carried you around to the door to slip inside with you. “Told you I’d get you a job at my agency, then you wouldn’t have to worry about this job.”
You sucked on his neck as he undid his belt, “don’t know how your girlfriend would feel about me working with you daily… having this happen far more often?” Because you’re not stupid, you knew if you took him up on that offer you’d be on his dick every chance the two of you had.
“She’s not my girlfriend and you know it.” He made that abundantly clear the first time he made a move on you months ago and you questioned him.
He’d just barely slipped his cock free before you were sinking down on it with a groan that would reply in his head for a lifetime. “I don’t think she knows that.”
He chuckles and it makes you clench around him. “You’re real cute when you’re jealous,” hands grip hard on your hips and he pushes you down as he grits out, “and if she does know it, that’s—not— my— problem—” rocking his hips to watch your eyes roll back.
“You’ve said it yourself though, she’s what your PR team wants. I’m nothing like her.”
He huffed before his arms wound under your legs so he could hold you up and fuck up into you as he damn well pleased. “Also told you that I don’t care what they want. You say the word and it’ll be you on my arm at these events, not her.”
You laughed before he made it into a blissed out moan.
“What? Don’t believe me?”
The windows were fogging up, anyone walking by would damn well know what was happening here. And he didn’t care at all. He’d bullied himself into you over and over again, tearing at your little outfit, unable to help himself.
Of course, you didn’t seem to mind with the way you were babbling now, tits bouncing with your head tossed back, pleasure coursing through you. “What’s the matter, pretty? Can’t do anything more than moan for me now? Should I stop and letcha think?”
His pace slowed and you cried out, “noooo!”
“Then answer me, baby, you believe me, don’t you?” Gods, for a man railing you within an inch of your life, his tone was soft and sickeningly sweet. “Promise if ya let me I’ll do this to you all night long.” Not that these quickies weren’t fun but just once he wants to see you splayed out in his bed. “I’ll make you cum over and over, as much as you want.”
He took your chin and made sure you were looking at him as he added. “I want you. For more than just a fast fuck at a party. Lemme take care of you, in every possibly way there is.”
With his cock filling you up so completely, and his eyes carrying so much hope, how could you ever deny him?
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dreamingofaizawa · 21 days ago
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How to enter:
Donate a minimum of $5 to the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network and direct message me (@/bloompompom) proof of donation.
The raffle will run until FEBRUARY 14th 2025 at midnight EST!
The selected winner will have 48 hours to claim their spot. If there is no response, then the slot will be forfeited and another winner will be selected.
Cancer research is a cause that is near and dear to mine and many others' hearts. To hear such news with the current administration is absolutely horrifying, to say the least. I hope to use the space I've created here to put some good out into the world. Thank you for joining!
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dreamingofaizawa · 21 days ago
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musk is going to die in a Tesla explosion in 6 months after sticking his nose where it doesn't belong and we will never get a conclusive answer on whether it was a CIA car bomb or just a normal Tesla malfunction
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dreamingofaizawa · 21 days ago
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I want you to remember:
The fascists hate you too and they just will pretend otherwise until after they've killed the rest of us, before they turn on you.
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dreamingofaizawa · 23 days ago
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@ fic authors what do you personally consider a successful fic? What’s the bar?
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dreamingofaizawa · 24 days ago
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ICE raids happening in Chicago on Tuesday January 21st. Get organized and get prepared.
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dreamingofaizawa · 24 days ago
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Do not let them erase this. Do not let them tell you he meant "my heart goes out for you."
This man is the grandson of a Canadian Nazi sympathizer who moved to South Africa BECAUSE he thought the apartheid was just the coolest.
He has a gaggle of kids specifically because he believes his genes are superior and need to be spread to improve humanity.
He has thrown his support behind the neonazi party in Germany and the far right party in the UK, not to mention how far he's wormed up the ass of the Republican party.
He threw two sieg heil salutes back to back at the inauguration of the president of the United States and is trying to scrub the evidence off the internet.
Elon Reeve Musk is a fucking Nazi.
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dreamingofaizawa · 27 days ago
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Waking up in the middle of the night with the need to use the bathroom is extremely difficult when Kakashi is around.
It's 4AM and you've woken up with an extreme need to pee, but your boyfriend is wrapped perfectly around you. Your head is tucked into his neck and his face is nuzzled into your hair. His arms are wrapped tightly around your lower back with one hand under your shirt, holding you in place. Your legs are entwined together and Kakashi looks completely at peace. You have never been more comfortable in your life but your bladder is crying for the toilet so you reserve yourself to fate and squirm free.
You quickly get up and stumble into the adjoining bathroom, not even bothering to turn the lights on and leaving the door slightly cracked to avoid making too much noise.
You're sitting on the toilet trying not to fall asleep when you just barely manage to hear a high pitched whine. At first you think it's a pipe you'll need to get Kakashi to fix but then you hear it again, a little louder this time. It's coming from behind the door to the bathroom and you can just barely manage to hear a strangled ‘wwiiii-’.
You almost don't believe what you're hearing but you hear it again as you're washing your hands, this time confirming what you heard.
“Wiiifffeeeee……”
You make your way back towards your bed to see Kakashi, eyes still closed but hands swiping your side of the bed trying to find you.
You feel your heart try to leap out of its chest from how cute the action is. It's not something you would expect to see from Kakashi but as your relationship progresses you're learning there's a lot of things he's only okay showing you.
You slip back under the covers and he's quick to wrap around you again, a leg being thrown over both of yours and arms tugging you into his chest. He stuffs his face back into your hair and places kisses on the top of your head.
You giggle as you snuggle into him. 
“Thought you left me…”
You're suddenly extremely awake at the mumbled confession. You wrap your arms around him and squeeze hard, “I just had to pee. I'd never leave you.”
“Mmm…love you.” He whispers into your hair, sleep still heavy in his voice.
Before you can respond his breathing steadies and you can tell he's back to sleep.
You tuck yourself into him before falling back asleep too.
In the morning, as you and Kakashi make breakfast, a thought crosses your mind. You look at Kakashi intently as he's frying your eggs.
“Last night. Did you call me your wife?”
Kakashi's grip on the pan falters and he almost knocks it off the stove. He stares at you with wide eyes, blush running up to his ears.
He turns away from you, trying to to recover, “I have no idea what you're talking about. Must have been a dream.”
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dreamingofaizawa · 2 months ago
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Happy new year to all, and to all a wonderful year of joy and fulfillment ❤️ I love you all
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dreamingofaizawa · 3 months ago
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ALL OUT OF LUCK
pairing. k. bakugou x reader
synopsis. you had the biggest, fattest crush on bakugou katsuki in high school, which granted you weird looks and judgment from those who found out, because why, when you could fawn over prince-like todoroki or manly kirishima instead? fast forward to 10 years later, though, and now the joke’s on them, because #2 pro-hero dynamight just got dubbed the hottest bachelor of the year. but that doesn’t matter, because you’re over him now. you’ve been over him, ever since that butchered attempt at confessing where he dismissed you as a gen ed extra before you could even get the words out. so why, all of a sudden—and an entire decade later—do you have to work with him on a top-secret mission?
status. ongoing!
working tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), a lot of cussing (bkg-typical), several mentions of bullying & discrimination (quirk supremacy), reader has a quirk :0, reader is alluded to being smaller than bkg, canon-typical violence, nsfw themes (is there gonna be eventual smut? we shall see)
links. ao3 (coming soon)
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꩜ .ᐟ chapter one
꩜ .ᐟ chapter two
꩜ .ᐟ chapter three
꩜ .ᐟ chapter four
꩜ .ᐟ chapter five
꩜ .ᐟ chapter six
꩜ .ᐟ chapter seven
꩜ .ᐟ chapter eight
꩜ .ᐟ chapter nine
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dreamingofaizawa · 3 months ago
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Coffee and Stitches - Part 3
Shouta Aizawa x AFAB! Fem! Reader
Warnings: Teeny bit of hurt/comfort but nothing too bad. Still very fluffy
Word Count: 7.5k
Author's Note: Part threeeeeee here we go! Fair warning, part four is gonna be heavy and sad and a little angsty. Be prepared.
Enjoy~
A phone ringing is what wakes you up. It’s not your phone, you don’t recognize the jingle poking through your sleepy haze. Something shifts beneath your body, and for a moment your brain panics, until you remember how you’d fallen asleep. Shouta’s voice filters through your brain, rough with sleep and much deeper than normal. It sends tingles down your spine. The other end of the line is filled with another voice, insanely loud and animated, and when you pry your eyes open Shouta is actually holding it about a foot from his ear as he listens with a pained expression. You can’t catch what’s being said, you’re still waking up, but Shouta clearly is not happy.
“Hizashi, it’s too damn early for you to be screaming through the phone like this.” You giggle, far too loud, and Shouta’s eyes snap down to yours. The voice on the other end of the line had cut off, but suddenly the screaming got louder somehow, and now you can hear everything he’s screaming about.
“Shouta Aizawa the sly dog you are! You didn’t tell me you were spending the night with the cutie cafe lady! Hey, what’s your name sweetheart?” Shouta groans, a muttered ‘none of your damn business’ slips out but you answer the question anyways. 
“Oh what a pretty name for a pretty lady! I’m Hizashi Yamada, but you might know me better as Present Mic, ya dig?” Yes, you did know of Present Mic. He hosts a radio show that you had tuned into at some point by accident.
“Sho, whaddya say we invite her to the Christmas party? Nemuri’s been dying to meet her!” You giggle again at the very one-sided conversation happening.
“It’s on the 20th of December, ya hear? Starts at 7 but we’ll probably be up till the sun rises. Save the date, little lady! We’ll be expecting you.” Your head falls back on Shouta’s chest, a grin spreading across your face.
“I’ll be there, Yamada-san.” He yips through the speaker, muttering something about telling Nemuri.
“And call me Hizashi. Any girlfriend of Sho’s is a dear friend of mine.” Now that makes you blush and you hide your face in Shouta’s shirt. His hand comes up to pet your hair as he finishes up the call. Whatever Present Mic had called for he couldn’t remember, and Shouta being annoyed decided just to hang up with the other hero still mid-sentence. His eyes slide closed, a deep sigh escaping him.
“Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Peeking from your little hiding spot on his chest, you giggle again.
“It’s alright. It’s probably not that early, considering how bright it is outside.” A long groan rumbles beneath you, deep in his chest. 
“Still too early. It’s Saturday, I get to sleep in.” His arms tighten around you, trapping you in his hold. You’re probably not going to be able to go back to sleep, considering you’d gotten a full night’s rest, but you keep that to yourself. Instead you wriggle in his hold and lean up to plant a kiss on his cheek, burying your head in the crook of his neck and breathing him in. He holds you tight again, sinking into the couch and almost instantly knocking out. He’s peaceful, like this, relaxed and blissfully asleep. You close your eyes and bask in his warmth, feeling his arms where they remain locked around your waist, feel his chest rise and fall as he breathes, listen to his rolling snores. It seems you were wrong about falling asleep, since you have no idea how much time has passed in your pseudo-nap when Shouta’s waking you up, peppering small kisses over your face and rubbing your back with one large, warm hand.
“You know you’re really cute when you’re drooling on my shirt.” Heat blooms up your face and you quickly reach to wipe at your mouth. There’s a teeny wet spot on his chest where you were just lying, and you bury your face once again. He laughs, but doesn’t comment any more on it.
“Are you hungry?” Yeah, you could definitely eat, so you nod. He shifts then, and you’re ready to climb off him when he decides to pick you up and take you with him, his hands strong beneath your thighs and you have to throw your arms around his neck. Mostly to stay upright, although with all the strength a pro-hero has he seems to be holding your weight with ease. He sets you on the kitchen counter, leaving a sweet peck on your lips, before digging through your fridge and cabinets to throw together a small breakfast. He doesn’t let you help, whenever you jump off the counter he just grabs you by the waist, plants you right back in your spot and holds you there until you stop fighting him.
“Shouta, you can’t expect me to sit here and just watch you make me breakfast.” He laughs.
“First of all, I’m making us breakfast. Second, you can and you will sit there and watch. I’m allowed to spoil you.” He eyes your pout, leaning up to kiss it away. The kiss is far too distracting, and he’s getting far too comfortable using that to his advantage. Bastard.
“I could argue you already spoiled me last night with the date. And the date before that. And all of the meals you make me when you sleep over. Not to even mention the-” One large hand slaps over your mouth, and his face is inches away as he stares you down with feigned annoyance.
“Alright, I get it.” The hand on your face turns and grips your cheeks, making your lips pout, and he leaves a cute peck on your lips. He’s getting awfully liberal with the kisses. Not that you mind.
“I’m still allowed to spoil you.” You raise an eyebrow.
“Because I’m your girlfriend?” His expression falls at that, his face bright red, hands grabbing at your thighs. His eyes can’t seem to meet yours and you have to fight the grin that tugs at your mouth, it’s cute seeing him nervous.
“I never really cared about labels.” You hum softly, threading your fingers into his hair and using the band on your wrist to tie it behind his head in an attempt to help him relax. His eyes close and he leans into your touch, so hopefully it worked.
“Well it’s a good thing I also never cared much for labels.” His thick, rough fingertips squeeze the pudge of your thighs, and he looks both relieved and skeptical. Maybe he’d read this tale before, heard this song, seen this dance. 
“That’s it? You don’t mind that I’m not going to be calling you my girlfriend?” He seems to relax at the way you smile and shake your head.
“As long as it’s not an insult, I don’t care what you call me.” It’s easy to laugh when he does, and even easier to lean into the kiss he presses to your temple. You can’t help the way you cling to him, your arms tight around his neck and your legs clamping around his waist to lock your ankles together behind him. It feels nice to be close like this, just existing in each other’s orbit. Counting the days since you’d been this close with someone was impossible, it’s been so long. His own arms are tight around your waist as he tugs you even closer and tucks his face in your neck. It’s an intimate moment, one you want to exist in forever. He doesn’t say anything more, doesn’t give any kind of response, but really he doesn’t need to. Clearly he’s content just to be here with you, as you are, together. 
The rest of the day is spent lounging around the apartment without breaking contact. Neither of you can seem to separate from the other unless the bathroom is involved, and your shift in the cafe is spent wondering when Shouta would return from his patrol. You can’t seem to resist the urge to invite him up once again, and you spend another night together. This time you sleep in your bed, the soft mattress much more comfortable than the couch. You wish it could last a little longer, the time you spend tangled together, but all things must come to an end one way or another. Weeks pass, weekends are spent together in your apartment, weekdays are spent in fleeting moments between his busy work life and your duties to the cafe. Another date is set up at a renowned restaurant, a beautiful dinner in a booth to yourselves. It was fancy enough to warrant that dress Rika was dead set on getting you to wear around Shouta, and when he’d picked you up he was stunned for just a moment. You won’t lie to yourself, it made you feel gorgeous.
The snow gets deeper, the nights get longer, and Shouta’s patrols start to get called off due to the weather being unpredictable. Heavy snow wouldn’t be good for a hero like him, pros like Endeavor were probably better equipped for the snow, not to mention the crime rate would drop if weather conditions were bad enough. Not even villains would dare move in a blizzard at midnight. Those days are a godsend, where you get to cuddle up with Shouta in bed and soak in the warmth his body radiates, spending lazy snow days curled up on the couch sipping hot chocolate or coffee. Before you know it, it’s almost Christmas. You’ve already got Rika’s present, and also Shouta’s, though his is a simple cat-shaped mug since he never seems to express any want for things at this point in your relationship. In fact, the one thing he’s never been shy about expressing is his desire to cling to you. He’s always trying to touch you, hold you, kiss you, hug you. He loves to be in physical contact with you, that’s the one thing you absolutely do know. Even while he’s busy cooking, one hand is always touching some part of you. Whether it be holding your hand, gripping your thigh, or looped around your waist, he’s always on you. 
You don’t mind one bit.
With Christmas coming up, that party is also looming around the corner. And you weren’t entirely sure about…well, anything. Was there a dress code? A theme? You definitely had to ask Shouta some questions. You’d already gone through a vetting process for all the plus-ones that weren’t registered pros. It was a formality, one you really didn’t mind, and it was quick and easy. Rika had two different outfits already planned for you, all put together on pinterest, both including a floor-length body con dress, deep red in color, with a high slit and a low sweetheart neckline. One outfit included a white fur coat to go with a christmas theme, another included a black trenchcoat and a black mask for a masquerade. You sent it all to Shouta for color coordination, only to be caught completely off guard by the response.
Apparently the event is sponsored by a designer brand that had a contract with all the pros, which meant all of the clothing for the event would be tailored and made for all attendees. Free of charge, since the publicity alone was more than enough compensation for them every year. Which means you have to send in all your measurements and then schedule a fitting within the next two weeks, which shouldn’t be hard. The fitting is scheduled for Friday, and both you and Shouta are expected to be there. He’d explained this was going to be like a dress rehearsal of sorts, where they’d completely doll you both up as if it were party night, and adjust everything accordingly. Their goal is to make you look like you belong together, a matching set that shouldn’t be separated. 
And that’s exactly what they do. Your hair, makeup, even your shoes and jewelry are all chosen carefully and meticulously, laid over your skin with such precision and purpose it’s hard to move for fear of disturbing the sheer art they’d created on your body. It took hours, but at the end of it your outfits were completed. You barely recognized yourself in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, makeup not at all like you’d normally wear, and that dress. It was some kind of satin or silk, the way it draped over every one of your curves looked and felt a lot like water flowing down a creek. Your shoes were simple, short two-inch black velvet pumps, closed-toe and round, with all the cushion they could fit in there. Even as comfortable as they seem right now, you’re sure they’ll be off within three hours of the party. 
Shouta looks just as over-the-top as you do, pitch black suit embossed with intricate swirling patterns and a red dress shirt to match you. A single red rose peeks from his breast pocket, adorned with accents of baby’s breath. His hair is pulled back into a half-up half-down and he’s clean shaven. It’s strange, seeing his face like that, but it’s not at all bad. But you do have a question for him, seeing as you’re getting so dolled up for what you thought was a simple Christmas party.
“So, how big is this party, exactly? I mean, if this brand is getting publicity then it’s got to be pretty big.” Shouta’s eyes meet yours in the mirror, and he shares an apologetic look.
“Pretty big. Most top pros will be there, including all the teachers from UA and Shiketsu High. Paparazzi will be outside waiting for an exclusive, but you won’t have to worry too much about that. They don’t bother with the less popular pros or the undergrounds.” Well shit. Yeah, you’re glad you’re not currently dating a top pro. The paparazzi alone would probably send you running.
“That’s…a little bigger than I expected.” You can’t help but laugh, breathless, just a little bit nervous. Shouta’s hand is warm on your shoulder as he turns you toward him, the calluses rough on your skin where his fingertips squeeze and dig into your flesh. It’s comforting, and the fire his touch lights under your skin distracts you just enough from the anxiety. Dark eyes bore into your own, soft and gentle and deep.
“If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. You can back out right now if you feel uncomfortable.” He really is just so sweet to you. A smile breaks onto your face, and your nerves settle.
“And miss a chance to wear clothes like these, even for one night? Not a chance.” His chuckle is warm as he turns back to the mirror, allowing the tailors to fuss over the both of you one last time. You’re surprised the garments already fit so well after only sending in body measurements and several different-angled pictures of you posed in a very specific manner. The hem on your dress was going to be shortened by about an inch, and Shouta’s suit was going to be taken in at the waist just a bit, but other than that everything fit like a glove. Surprisingly, it took a lot longer to disassemble than it took to get into everything, especially when the design team didn’t want you touching anything, so you were literally undressed by a team of women that took extra care with every piece of your outfit. You weren’t even allowed to wipe the makeup off your face or take your hair down, though as far as the hair goes you might have ended up just ripping a few chunks out anyways, whether by accident or out of frustration. You and Shouta went and got something to eat, after six hours of clothing and makeup and all that craziness you were both starving.
“What do you feel like eating?” That’s a great question. One you don’t really know how to answer at the moment. You aren’t really craving anything, but you are definitely hungry.
“Honestly, I’m not sure.” He sighs in mock disappointment, and you can’t help but giggle at the exaggerated slump in his shoulders.
“I asked you because I didn’t know what I wanted. You were supposed to give me an answer, you know.” Playfully, you roll your eyes.
“Well I guess we’re in the same boat then, aren’t we?” Still, you are hungry. Thankfully your savior comes in the form of a hole-in-the-wall joint you just happen to be approaching. Your head tilts as you peer in the windows, signs for what looks like Korean style food piquing your interest. You grab Shouta’s shoulder and motion toward the small restaurant, and he nods in agreement to the unasked question before tugging the door open for you. Inside it’s warm, you have to immediately begin shucking off your heavy winter coats, and it smells wonderful, like spices and sauces and the savory scent of tender meat. You’re greeted and then sat at a small booth by the stewardess, who seems to also be a waitress and possibly more. She’s all over the place, but in no particular rush, doing odd jobs between taking your order and serving the few others in the shop. It’s quiet, the lull of the music over the speakers and the warm yellow of the lights overhead make it cozy, the well-worn cracked booth seats and the pathing worn into the tiles give a homely atmosphere.
“I’m not usually around this part of town for anything other than work. I’m glad you spotted this place.” Shouta remarks, sipping at his water. 
“I can’t say I’m out here very often at all. Most of my time is spent at the cafe, but you know that already.” He nods, a small chuckle rumbling in his chest. While you’re waiting for the food, you’ve got a few burning questions about this party.
“So, the paparazzi are going to be everywhere, and I know they probably won’t be super interested in the teachers and undergrounds. But let’s say we do, by whatever random chance, get interviewed. What should I say, and what should I not say?” His hum is contemplative as he thinks about your question, elbows on the table and hands clasped beneath his chin.
“I’d say there isn’t much for you to really worry about. If anything they’re going to ask who you are in relation to me, and that’s an easy question to answer.” That’s fair, you’re going to be his plus-one, or his date, depending on which comes out easier.
“Anything else would be weird to ask. They can’t ask about your career as a hero, they don’t know who you are. You don’t want to give any personal information, so it’s best not to mention the cafe at all just in case. But honestly, I’m nowhere near the spotlight for these things. I’m a small fry compared to the publicity these stations will want from the top heroes.” That is also fair. With your questions answered your nerves have settled fully, and your food has been set at your table. The meal is wonderful, and the sun slowly begins to set as you exit the restaurant. It’s Friday, which means you get to relax after that mess of a day, and Shouta of course takes the opportunity to sleep in your bed once again since he’d scheduled an off night for patrols. After the fitting you’re sure he’s exhausted, if only from the socialization and the constant hands and voices. 
Weeks go by in anticipation for the party, but it all goes in a bit of a blur. The night of the party approaches way too fast for your liking, and all the nerves come back to you at once as you’re sitting in the blacked out SUV beside Shouta, the both of you dolled up exactly as you’d been during the fitting. Your knee bounces, your bottom lip caught between your teeth and your fingers can’t keep still in your lap. There’s a small throb in your temple and you fight yourself not to rub at your face and ruin the makeup, the only respite you can find is to shut your eyes to block out the light of the setting sun. Suddenly your hands are wrapped tight in a pair of much larger, warmer, callused hands, and when you peek over at Shouta he’s got a small apologetic smile adorning his lips. 
“Do you want to go home? We can skip this whole thing.” When you shake your head you try your best not to dislodge your hairstyle, though with the amount of hairspray and gel and pins the stylists used it’s hard to believe it’d move even if you were to get into a wrestling match.
“No, we’re already this far in. I’ll be okay once we get inside and get some water.” He squeezes your hands in his, thumbs pressing into the backs of your hands soothingly.
“Okay.” There’s silence as you breathe in his presence, allowing his small gesture on your hands to calm you just enough. You focus on your breathing, squeezing his hands in the same rhythm your chest rises and falls. It helps. Just as your heart rate steadies in your chest, the vehicle slows to a stop. You make the mistake of looking out the window and all you can see is a long red carpet laid over an elaborate staircase, the sides absolutely swarmed by people kept at bay by the gold-colored railings and a few men in simple suits that must be some type of security. Not that a ballroom full of pros really needed security. Still, the sight of the people and the cameras and all the commotion as a couple disappear at the top of the stairs, into the building, makes your heart slam against your ribcage.
“Shouta…” His fingers grip your own tight.
“Yes?” He’s waiting, patiently, while your mind kicks into gear. He wants to know if you’re about to tap out completely, and he’d back you up completely no matter your decision. Breathe in. Breathe out. 
“I’m ready.” He smiles, nods, then opens the door and steps out into the fray. One hand reaches in for you, helping you out of the vehicle and into the open. Voices and camera shutters and flashes overload all of your senses, and for a second you feel yourself begin to panic. That headache is making a comeback, your hand shaking where it’s wrapped in Shouta’s, and you think your lungs are starting to burn but you’re having a hard time thinking about what your body’s doing when there’s so much going on. Shouta steps into your space, a hand on your lower back and the other gently cupping your neck where the makeup isn’t as heavy and easy to muss. His scent is calming, petrichor and earthy tones soothing you.
“Hey, look at me.” He’s positioned himself so all the flashes are blocked by his broad shoulders, his entire frame shielding you from all the chaos. You meet his eyes as they bore down into you, studying your face and smoothing a thumb along your jugular.
“Are you alright?” Yeah…you think you might be alright now. You nod, allowing yourself to relax in his hold.
“We have to go up there, okay?” You blink, nod again. Breathe.
“Try to smile for the cameras. I’ll be right here with you, just squeeze my arm until we’re through the door, then we’re home free.” You take one last shuddering breath, and nod one last time. Breathe. Smile. Shouta’s here. He turns, holding his arm out for you to take. Looping your arm in his, you begin to walk up the carpet toward the building. The voices of the crowd and the flashes of the paparazzi are disorienting, but you cling to Shouta and focus on his scent, on the light cologne that’s been sprayed onto his skin. Your eyes lock onto the top stair, on the light beaming from inside the massive doorway. It feels like you’re walking for hours, taking slow steady steps up the carpet. Shouta’s hand lands on yours where it’s resting on his elbow, thumb once again soothing over your skin. If he weren't here you aren’t sure you’d still be awake right now. It’s all so overwhelming, but him being here makes it easier. A surprise awaits you at the top step, what looks like a singular reporter with her team standing alone, apart from the crowd of paparazzi that swarm around the railings barricading the carpet. Her smile is wide, bright, practiced and probably a habit by now. Her short-cropped baby blue hair is perfect, not a hair out of place, the suit jacket and pencil skirt she wears is a deep navy to contrast her hair and fair complexion. Her lipstick is vibrant red, a pop of color in her otherwise monotone appearance. 
You know this woman, an anchor for one of the largest news stations in Japan. Her eyes, a striking vibrant green, lock onto Shouta, then directly onto you.
“And my goodness, what a wonderful surprise! Eraserhead has a date tonight! Eraserhead please tell us who this wonderful woman is that made you finally break your streak attending solo?” You glance up at him, gauging his reaction. There is none, not really, his expression plain and his voice monotone.
“She’s simply my date.” A smile edges its way onto your face at his bluntness. The rumors about him not liking paparazzi must be true, he’s not even giving them an inch to work with. The reporter seems to know this, and decides to turn to you for any kind of insider into the elusive Eraserhead’s love life.
“What name should I call the woman that caught the infamous Eraserhead’s attention?” The mic is suddenly in your face, and you’ve been put on the spot. Vaguely, you recall Shouta’s advice about personal information. 
“Oh! Well, I’m y/n,” you decide to only give them your first name, “And I wouldn’t say I caught his attention. We just happened to get to know each other.” Her eyebrows raise, her shoulders lifting and animating her features even further.
“You don’t say! How did you two meet?” Ah, this probably isn’t the best question to answer. Shouta squeezes your hand, and you squeeze back. You can handle this. You think.
“Well as it happens we actually met at a random cafe by chance. He came in covered in bruises and his arm in a sling, and he needed help opening a bottle of eyedrops.” You cover your mouth and giggle just a tad at the memory. Technically, you weren’t lying. The reporter gasps, speaking toward the camera.
“A cafe meet-cute? What a love story! What happened next?” Shouta clears his throat then, leaning down to the mic.
“We have a party to attend.” That’s all he says before practically dragging you beside him, leaving the poor reporter to pick up the pieces of the makeshift interview. You twist around to wave at her and she waves back before preparing for the next hero pairing to walk up those stairs. Refocusing, you turn to Shouta.
“How was that?” He hums, a small smirk tugging at his lips.
“Not bad. A little too close to the truth, in my personal opinion, but not bad.” You nudge him with your shoulder as you walk.
“Hey, I was put on the spot back there, what did you expect?” His smile is small, but unmistakable. With all the panic of the outside left behind, your nerves stop trying to fry you alive, and Shouta’s hand remains glued to your own as you make your way to the ballroom. It’s already full of heroes, all decked out to the nines in an array of red, green, gold, white, and silver hues. The high ceiling of the ballroom is dotted with crystal chandeliers, the yellow-white glow casting a comfortable light over the room. You’re being tugged along the wall, away from the main commotion, until you stop before a man and a woman. You recognize both of them. The man’s long, blonde hair is slicked back into a low ponytail, hypnotic green eyes smiling down at you as he reaches his hand out for you to shake. His suit is pale gold, a white dress shirt and bright yellow tie matching his vibrant hair and personality. Present Mic’s voice isn’t amplified when he speaks.
“Well would you look at that! You’re just as pretty as I thought you’d be. Hizashi Yamada, it’s wonderful to officially meet you.” You smile at him and return the sentiment. The woman slides up beside him, her long dark hair flowing wild and free. The dress she wears is skin tight, deep red at the top fading into a midnight blue at the bottom. How fitting. Midnight reaches a hand toward you, taking yours when you go to shake her hand and instead pressing a kiss to your knuckles. It isn’t seductive, it’s almost chivalrous and even sweet, but she’s gorgeous, and you can’t help the tiny spark of heat that climbs up your neck.
“I’m Nemuri Kayama. I’ve been dying to meet the girl that got Shouta Aizawa of all people to finally think about romance for once.” Heat creeps over your cheeks and you try your best to hide your smile.
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I’m just happy to be here.” Shouta’s arm slips from yours, his voice low and gentle in your ear. The smallest of goosebumps crawl over your skin at the smooth baritone.
“Did you still want that water?” You nod and he’s gone in an instant, not without pressing a small kiss to your hairline. It’s hard to peel your eyes from his back as he disappears into the crowd of heroes, but you have two pros here who want to talk with you. When you turn back to the two, their smiles are huge and almost satisfied. Hizashi leans over, almost whispering as if Shouta could hear from wherever he’d disappeared to.
“He’s gentle, with you. He’s usually so stiff, so cold and indifferent sometimes. But with you he’s…softer. He likes you a lot.” Your cheeks start to hurt, the way you're smiling so hard.
“I hope so. Or the dates would be a little facetious.” Nemuri’s turn to talk, her eyebrows raised and a grin across her painted lips.
“Dates? He’s taken you on more than one?” Uh oh.
“Oh…yes? Actually we’ve been on three, maybe four? Not counting everything in between.” Hizashi’s eyes nearly bug out of his head.
“Between? What happened in between?” He really hasn’t told these people anything, huh? A piece of you wonders why he’d keep you so secret, why he wouldn’t tell the two people he seemed closest to. Sure he’s a hero, and you don’t care about the public’s opinion…but not even his friends know? You aren’t sure which one notices your discomfort first, but they both back off with a shared glance. Nemuri’s hand smooths over your shoulder, a comforting gesture.
“It’s none of our business anyways. He’ll tell us when he wants to tell us.”
“Tell you what?” You jump at the closeness in Shouta’s voice, and the hint of coldness in the timbre makes your heart squeeze. You don’t really want to look at him for fear of your expression betraying your stress, but he’s making his way to your side with a glass of water held before you. You take it without a word, only a small nod in thanks, before sipping from the straw to try to alleviate the slow resurfacing of that damned headache. The lights feel too bright, the room feels like it’s shrinking, the air is starting to suffocate you and the coolness of the glass and the small bit of condensation that’s gathered on your fingers are the only things that seem to be helping. Somewhere in your brain you try to remind yourself that you should be enjoying the party, but you can’t seem to focus anymore.
With your gaze hard focused on the rippling water, you can’t see the way his eyes narrow at you, then at his two friends. You jump again at the feeling of Shouta’s hand on your waist, tugging you into his side. It’s protective, the way he almost wraps completely around you, and his face is all too close to yours when he leans over and holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger.
“What happened? Are you alright?” His voice is so tender, so soft, and those damn eyes draw you in when you can’t keep your gaze away. Concern is laced both in his words and his voice, and if you’d been paying attention to anything other than his face you’d see the way he curls his body over yours. Even as upset as you’d just been, you can’t seem to help the way your chest fills with warmth, the same way the sun warms your skin on a cool fall day. Maybe you’re overthinking things. You can’t bring yourself to stay upset, not when he’s looking at you like he’s terrified you’d slip through his fingers if he so much as breathed the wrong way. You reach up and take his hand from your chin, lacing your fingers in his and smiling softly at him.
“I’m alright, Shouta. It’s nothing we need to talk about right now.” Yes, the conversation can wait for when you’re not in the public eye, wait for when you’re comfortable and can focus on the conversation and you can sort your emotions out. For now, you both need to enjoy the party. He seems skeptical, but he lets it go, leaving a kiss on your hand and returning to the two other heroes. They’re both trying hard to bite back their smirks, then school their expressions once Shouta turns fully around. Hizashi makes a move suddenly, clearing his throat and outstretching a hand toward you, palm up.
“Care to dance, little lady?” You spare a glance at Shouta, who seems skeptical but releases his hold on you so you can take Hizashi’s hand and allow him to sweep you up into the dancing crowd. You wave back at Shouta and Nemuri with a smile as you disappear and lose them between the bodies. Now settled in a small gap between dancing heroes, Hizashi’s arm slips around the higher part of your waist and his other hand slips into yours. It’s a polite hold, keeping the space between you maintained but not uncomfortable. His smile is infectious as he swings you around to the beat of the high-tempo music. You can’t help the way you giggle and squeal quietly every time he spins you both around and animates the dance. It’s uncoordinated, unrehearsed, he practically drags you around with the strength of a pro-hero. But it’s fun, and you’re laughing as you both jump and spin around until the music finally slows a bit, a controlled pace to allow you to catch your breath. Hizashi seems unaffected, but that’s not surprising. Pro heroes have an insane amount of stamina. You’re still breathing a little heavily when he speaks.
“Hey, don’t take Shouta’s secrecy to heart. He’s a very private person, even with his closest friends.” You have to blink away your shock at just how perceptive he is. Your dance moves have slowed, relaxed as you both turn around an axis aimlessly.
“I…yeah, you’re probably right. You know him better than I do.” He smiles, gentle and kind.
“I sure hope so. We graduated from UA together.” The sentiment puts a waver in his voice, a sound that’s suspiciously close to sadness. As curious as you are, you don’t pry.
“Don’t sweat it, sweetheart. He’s got his reasons, and if you were to ask there’s no reason he wouldn’t tell you. Besides…” he leans in just a little closer, whispering like Shouta could hear his every word if he didn’t, “Between you and me, I think he’s grown very attached to you.” That sentiment makes you smile despite your small worry. It’s good to know that, at the very least, he’s not afraid to show his affection for you.
“Thank you, Hizashi.” He pulls away, holding your hand out as he bows before you.
“But of course, little lady.” His eyes flick to something over your shoulder, and before you can turn to look, a large hand smooths over your skin, warm and callused. You know that hand, know the weight, know the feel, know the way his fingertips gently dig into your flesh like you’d vanish if he didn’t. His voice is in your ear.
“Mind if I take over?” Hizashi grins, then disappears into the crowd as Shouta takes his place. Shouta’s arms snake around your body, his hold much more tender, much more comfortable, than Hizashi’s. The arm on your waist sits lower at the small of your back, the hand holding yours is tighter, the space between you is almost nonexistent. If you were to lean in any closer your chests would touch. The music has slowed significantly, Shouta leading you in a slow sway back and forth. You can’t tear your gaze away from his eyes, those deep onyx irises drawing you in. If you weren’t careful you were going to get lost in them, in the adoration and devotion. Part of you wants to think you see love in those eyes of his.
“How are you feeling?” You blink away your daze, smile up at him softly.
“I’m alright. What about you?” His eyes dart down to your mouth when you speak, then back up to meet your eyes to answer.
“Not too bad. I kind of hate these parties, but I’ve been told it’s good for PR.” You can’t help but giggle at his bluntness.
“Well I hope it’s not too bad this time.” His hum is low, it vibrates through your skin.
“Just because you’re here. If you said no to the invite I’d have just skipped it altogether this year.” You roll your eyes playfully at the sentiment, even though you’re sure he’s far from lying. The silence that settles over the two of you is comfortable and warm. You can’t keep your eyes off of him, he’s just so handsome. And there’s something lingering in his gaze that you can’t place, something heated and deep. His hand is warm on the small of your back, his body heat seeping through the material of your dress. The hand you have on his shoulder is compelled to move, turning to gently cup his jaw and neck. There’s a gravity that’s pulling you into him, you can feel your heart tugging you closer. Your chest presses into his, your legs tangling together as you sway gently back and forth. Heat crawls through your veins, your entire body warming beneath Shouta’s careful watch. Every piece of you that touches him feels like it's on fire in the best way. As you rock here, back and forth, it’s like the rest of the room disappears completely. Only the two of you exist, in the small bubble you’ve created. You think briefly, with him, falling in love won’t be so bad.
You dance together until the music changes completely to something more upbeat, and then you retreat back to Hizashi and Nemuri. Both have a small plate of appetizers and a small glass of what looks to be some kind of punch. After you go get your own plate, it’s another hour or so before the real dinner portion of the night. Hizashi and Nemuri ask a lot of questions, most of which you look to Shouta whether or not you should answer. You understand he has a reason for keeping his love life private, and you aren’t inclined to disrupt that pattern even if you don’t know the reason why. It’s a long, drawn out party, and soon after you finish your dinner and conversations you’re beginning to feel tired and your mind is struggling with the cacophony of voices and lights and people. Your headache is making one hell of a comeback, and you have to take the time to decompress a little in the bathroom where it’s quiet. Shouta is waiting for you outside in the hallway, and when he asks if you’re alright you can’t help that you answer honestly. 
You hate to leave so early in the night, but the two of you have expended your social batteries. The ride back to Shouta’s is quiet, but comfortable. In the back of your mind you think about the events of the night, about the news of his close friends knowing next to nothing about you and Shouta’s relationship. The night was a good buffer, a distraction enough, calming your nerves and helping to sort your thoughts on the matter. It’s a long, slow fifteen minutes to get completely undressed and de-glammed, and even after that you have to go take a shower to get all of the product out of your hair and off your face. You haven’t been over to his apartment at all since the first dinner date, so you end up borrowing his clothes, not that you mind at all. They smell like him, like his subtle deodorant and it mixes with the shampoo you’ve just used. You’re surrounded completely by him, and all the stress of the night dissipates like fog in the morning sun. 
He’s in and out of the shower himself, and when he emerges from the steamy room you’re waiting at the small dining table with two cups of tea. You smile, tired and soft, but it’s a smile nonetheless. A smile he happily returns as he drags his chair to sit next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and tucking your head against his shoulder. It’s domestic, like all the late weekend mornings you’ve been spending together sipping coffee. Calm like the afternoons spent curled around each other while a cheesy Christmas movie drones on in the background of your random conversations. Sweet like the innocent kisses you’ve been sharing as you fall asleep tangled in each other’s limbs. Shouta’s voice is rough with excessive use after the party, the sip of tea he’d taken soothing his throat as he clears it.
“There’s something on your mind. Is it about Hizashi and Nemuri?” You nod, take a sip of your own tea and rest back on his shoulder.
“Not about them, per say, but when we got talking I noticed they knew next to nothing about me. About our relationship.” He hums, taking the time to smooth his hand over your skin beneath his shirt, his calluses lightly scraping at your waist. It was grounding.
“Are you upset about it?” You shake your head, peering up at him. You really aren’t, not anymore, not after giving it real thought.
“No. I know you probably have your reasons, but at the moment it did sting a little. They seem to be really close to you, so I wondered why you’d want to hide me from them.” Another hum, another sip of tea.
“It wasn’t intentional, I didn’t intend on hiding you at all. They knew about the first date because they’d suggested it.” You nod against his shoulder, both your hands gingerly wrapped around your cup to warm your fingertips. He continues.
“After that they’d never asked, and I never thought to tell them. It didn’t seem  relevant to them, and they’ve got their own lives to worry about.” That makes sense. You still aren’t upset about it. 
“Thank you for explaining that, Shouta.” It’s easy to lean up and leave a peck on his cheek. It’s almost habitual, the way you leave a little piece of you against his skin. His returning kiss on your temple is just as easy to lean into, stealing another tiny piece of him.
“And maybe I thought for a moment that I’d like to keep you to myself for a little while longer.” He’s bashful when he admits it, warmth crawling up his face and he can’t quite keep his eyes on you, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt on your hip. You never thought you’d even describe a pro hero like him as ‘cute’, but here you are. 
“Maybe I’m okay with that.” Another kiss, this time on the lips, soft and warm and gentle. You finish your tea and make your way to bed, getting comfortable in the thick blanket Shouta keeps for winter. Tonight may have been hectic and panic-inducing at times, but there’s no place you’d rather be than right here in Shouta’s arms.
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dreamingofaizawa · 3 months ago
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