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xothatnerdykid · 1 year

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what would you do? (baby, if you only knew)

When mysterious pro hero Eraserhead saves you one night, you insist on buying him a cup of coffee to say thank you. Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead x fem!reader drabble. Cute and fluffy but very suggestive towards the end (still SFW tho). 2,409 words.

"It's not safe to be out at night all alone, sweetheart," the man with the wolfish smile moves closer to leer at you.

Ignoring him, you wrap your coat tighter around you and walk faster.

As your bad luck would have it, this only riles him up further and he chases after you. "Let me walk you home, pretty little thing. Can't have you getting into trouble now, can we?"

"The only one getting into trouble…" Your voice quivers, but there’s a determination underneath your fear as you turn to face the stranger, “Is you!”

You spray your mace in his eyes but he’s faster than you, and stronger too. He wrestles it out of your hand and grabs your wrist, twisting it behind you.

Before you can even think to scream, the man’s already on the ground.

A figure in dark clothing emerges from the nearby shadows. He had your would-be attacker tied up in a matter of seconds.

“Don’t you know,” he said low and menacingly — too menacingly for a hero, you think — bending down to grab the man’s wrist the way he did yours. “That’s no way to treat a lady?”

He twists it until the man screams out in agony. “Gaaah! Alright, alright, already! Just let me go!”

“Not until you apologize.”

He looks up at you with frantic, pleading eyes, “I’m sorry. Now will you please tell this psycho to let me go?”

He loosens his grip on the man’s arm with a shove. “The police are already on their way to pick you up, so don’t even think about trying anything.”

The perpetrator grunts but bows his head in defeat.

“Are you alright?” The man finally turns to look at you, the harsh edges of his voice softening just a little when he asks you.

You take a good look at him and realize he’s almost intimidatingly taller than you. With a lean frame clad in all black and a grey scarf, his eyes are dark and piercing in spite of their obvious weariness. He has a scar on his face and long, messy dark hair.

But in spite of all these things, there’s a kindness to his expression and in the way he almost reaches out to touch you.

You nod. “Yes. Better, now. Thanks to you.”

He drops his hand and stuffs them into his pocket. Silence hangs in the air for a moment before he clears his throat, “Do you need an escort home?”

You don’t, really. It was only a block away from here and much better lit and safer than this shortcut you recklessly took, but you say yes anyway. “I’d appreciate that.”

Without another word, he falls into step beside you as you start walking. It’s not long before you’re at your apartment building door.

You want to say thank you, but — “I don’t even know your name.”

He shrugs. “You don’t need to.”

“I want to thank you properly,” you insist.

He eyes for a moment before hesitantly reaching out his hand. “Aizawa Shouta.”

Oh.

You weren’t expecting him to give you his real name.

He mistakes your surprise for hesitation and almost pulls his hand back before you realize your mistake, hurriedly shaking it.

“Thank you, Aizawa-san. I owe you for saving me tonight. What can I do to repay you?”

He shakes his head. “That’s not necessary.”

“Please, I insist. Do you drink coffee? Or like cats?”

He scrunches his eyebrows at you. “Cats?”

“Yeah, I work at this cat cafe not too far from here. Stop by anytime this week and I’ll have a free coffee waiting for you,” you offer hesitantly.

“Hmm,” he rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe if I pass by it on my patrol, sure.”

But his noncommittal answer makes you cross your arms over your chest. “Don’t tell me I have to get myself into trouble to see you again?” You half-joke.

He doesn’t laugh.

But there's the faintest glimpse of something akin to amusement in his eyes that you convince yourself you’re probably not imagining, so you take that as a small win.

"Your choice," You shrug and unlock the door to your apartment building. Turning to face him one last time before heading inside, you smirk.

"See you around, Shouta."

He clears his throat but says nothing more. You leave him standing in the dimly lit street outside your apartment, but he doesn’t leave your mind for days.

_________________________________________________________________________

"So is the coffee here any good?"

You look up to the surprising sight of the man who saved you a few days ago standing in front of the counter. “Shouta!” You exclaim, and a genuine smile lights up your face. “Glad you could make it. This shift was starting to get the better of me.”

He rubs the back of his neck and you notice he has his hair up this time, the scarf gone. You can't help but stare at his hands and the exposed skin of his neck as he looks around the cozy cafe and all the playful felines.

When he doesn’t say anything, you offer, "Do you want to pet a cat? Or just a coffee?" Hopefully not to go, you think to yourself.

“You know I’m too old for you, right?” He asks instead, and you feel your face heat up.

"I don't think so," you shoot back. And despite how flustered you feel, you look him right in the eye.

He does the last thing you expect him to: he leans against the counter and chuckles. "Relax, I was only teasing."

Filled with newfound confidence, you smirk and look up at him from underneath your eyelashes. "I wasn't."

There’s a moment of charged silence where he looks like he might be on the brink of smiling again, the corner of his lip twitching. But he clears his throat instead and his expression turns stony and blank again. "So, about the coffee..."

_________________________________________________________________________

You tell him it'll be ready in 5 minutes, and he takes a seat in the back corner, playing with some of the cats and kittens. For someone who seems so stern and serious all the time, he's surprisingly gentle with them. You think it adds another layer of intrigue to him.

As you bring his coffee over, you notice him engrossed in rubbing a little orange tabby cat dozing off on his lap. And you know you're not imagining the smile on his lips this time.

"Enjoying ourselves, are we?" You can't help but poke fun at him as you set his cup down on the table. "Is this what heroes do in their spare time?"

He snorts. "What free time?"

"Oh?" You sit down across from him even though you know you're not supposed to (for reasons other than getting in trouble with your manager).

You cross your legs and brush your foot lightly against his ankle. And although he doesn't comment on it or react, he doesn't move away either.

“I’m flattered then, that you somehow managed to find the time to drop by.”

He shrugs, then takes a sip of his coffee. "You should've made one for yourself so you could keep me company.”

"I thought you said I was too young for you?"

"No, I said I was too old for you.”

You quirk your eyebrow in return. "And I said not to me."

And though you're just being your usual playful self, you can sense the subtle shift in the atmosphere as the moment lingers, his gaze intense and scrutinizing. You find yourself falling deep into the darkness of his velvety, ebony eyes.

His little laugh breaks the spell, the sound deep and genuine.

"You're relentless, I'll give you that," He shakes his head, one corner of his mouth tipping up.

"And you're stubborn." You take the drink he offers you and make sure to keep your eyes fixed on him as you sip it. "What's it gonna take for you to listen?”

He quirks his eyebrow at you, and you don’t miss the way his fingers brush against yours when he takes back his coffee cup.

“I’m listening…”

_________________________________________________________________________

Shouta comes back to the cafe a couple of times after that, and it’s always the same: You make sure you don’t take your break until he arrives so you can happily spend all of it and more chatting with him in his favorite corner near the cat tower.

Each visit is a bright spot in your day, and you allow yourself the small hope that it is for him, too. The conversations flow naturally, a mix of light-hearted banter and personal stories. Aizawa opens up about his work, his passion for teaching, and his love for cats. In turn, you share your dreams, your aspirations, and your random nonsensical thoughts with him.

And just like every other time, you have to force yourself to get up, sighing. "Okay, everyone's giving me the look again. My break ended about 15 minutes ago."

He holds his hand up to gesture that it's no big deal and gets up too. "Thank you for the coffee and the company. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“No, no trouble at all. You know, you don’t have to leave just because I have to go back to work.”

“I can’t. Duty calls.” He rubs the chin of the little tabby cat on his arm and she purrs contentedly. “But I’ll come back. This one seems to have taken a liking to me.”

“She wouldn’t be the only one.”

You can’t help but laugh at the way your flirty comment leaves him a little flustered. He looked devastatingly handsome to you, frowning and turning away to hide his blush.

Clearing his throat, he sets the kitten down gently on the floor with the others.

As he turns to leave, you impulsively reach out to grab his wrist.

He looks at you, surprised, and you give him a playful smile.

"Hey, one more thing before you go?"

Leaning closer, you press your lips against his in a soft, lingering kiss.

He freezes for a moment, uncharacteristically caught off guard again (you seemed to have a habit of doing that to him). But it’s not long before he relaxes into the kiss, his lips moving against yours with an unexpected tenderness.

When you pull away, you search his face for any indication of his feelings and there’s a spark of something…soft and almost shy in his gaze.

“I’ll be looking forward to that coffee,” he says with his eyes half-lidded and his breath ghosting across your cheek.

"I'll be here," you smile, face flushed and heart racing.

_________________________________________________________________________

“You’re not wearing your uniform,” Shouta remarks when he sees you again.

And it’s such an unexpected thing for him to say when you have him pressed up against the wall of the tiny, dimly lit supply closet by the back of the cafe where you were just making out, that you have to laugh.

“I could say the same for you.” You grab him by the collar of his shirt and kiss him again, deeply, searingly. You love how erratic his breathing and his eyes get, the way his swollen lips feel against yours.

“I’m not working today,” He murmurs, breath mingling with yours.

“Neither am I.”

“Oh?” He pulls aways for a moment. “Then why are you here?”

You smirk, “Didn’t wanna miss my favorite customer in case he came in.”

His face immediately softens, and you revel at the warmth of his thumb lightly tracing the outline of your lips. “Is that so?”

“Yes. By the way, have you seen him yet?”

It’s his turn to laugh now.

His deep, raspy voice softens to a low, resonant rumble that fills the room, and the sound is so light-hearted — vibrant and alive — that you can’t help the warmth that floods you at the thought of being the one to bring it out of him.

“No, but I’ll be sure to tell you when I do.” He brushes a lock of hair from your forehead and places a soft, lingering kiss there. “In the meantime, I hope you don’t mind slumming it with me.”

“Hmm,” You pretend to think about it for a moment. “I suppose…I could be persuaded…”

You trail your fingers playfully up his shirt and then cup his chin.

“But you’ll have to work hard to convince me.”

His hands wander down your back and stop to rest on your waist, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “Do you want me,” He murmurs in a voice so low and husky it makes your toes curl, “to show you just how persuasive I can be?”

You nod eagerly, and he smirks as he hoists you up and turns you around so that you’re the one pinned up against the wall now. He cradles the back of your head and leans down to capture your lips in another electrifying kiss.

You feel so lost in the sensations of his intoxicating taste, his hungry kiss, his hands roaming your body that you hardly notice yourself instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist.

He does, however, and feeling your grip on him suddenly tighten, hearing your small exclamations of pleasure — it’s enough to leave him just a little dazed and heady with desire.

You pull back for a moment to catch your breath, but he's not having it, quickly closing the distance between you again. He needs this. He loves it too much to stop.

You feel yourself smile against his lips and push him away gently. “Shouta,” you laugh breathlessly. “Give a girl a minute.”

He chuckles darkly, his playful demeanor from moments ago subtly turning into something more intense. “You know, y/n,” His grip on your waist tightens as he leans in again, his lips trailing a searing path along your jawline and down your neck. “I pride myself on being a gentleman…”

You don’t — can’t — respond, each touch sending a jolt of desire through you. You can hardly contain the soft gasps that escape your lips.

“So I hope you don’t feel offended by me asking this,” you feel his hot breath against your chest, up your neck. When he looks into your eyes, his gaze is smoldering. His dark and clouded eyes flicker down your lips for a moment before he continues, “But would you like to come back to my apartment with me?”

You’ve never said yes to anything faster in your life.

#aizawa shouta #bnha shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa x reader #mha aizawa #bnha aizawa #amaya writes #aizawa sensei #eraserhead #aizawa imagine #aizawa shouta imagine #aizawa shouta x you #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta x y/n #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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ashen-char · 5 months

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out here

ship: amber freeman (scream) x gender neutral reader

warnings: slight mentions of sex, nudity, drinking, blood (but nothing nsfw)

summary: amber can get you to do anything. but camping with her friends? ...yes, she can get you to do even that.

word count: 1000+

Woodsboro, California. Named for the dense forest along the outskirts of town. The woods are a popular hang-out spot for the local teenagers, who like to camp or throw parties. You wake up tangled in Amber's arms after a night of drinking and swapping ghost stories around the campfire with her friends. Rays of sunlight trickle through the thin nylon of the shitty tent you two bought on the way here.

Her friends, namely the twins Mindy and Chad, had hyped everyone up to celebrate finally graduating. Wes, always a big survival planner, had texted the group a list of essentials the night before. Bear spray, flashlights, sleeping bags, enough clothes to last two days, actual food. No one listened, of course, and instead Amber had teased him for being such a killjoy.

At first, you had resisted this little spontaneous weekend getaway. You were busy, and plus you were always more of an indoors person. All the camping trips you remembered growing up made you think about sore legs from too much walking, views that weren't worth it, and mosquito bites.

But Amber had a way of getting to you. She had winked, pressing against you, looking up at you with those big brown eyes. Whispering promises of sharing a tent together and the things you could get up to when you're all alone. So now you're in the middle of the woods, dealing with bugs and no Wi-Fi and shitty signal. Yay.

"Amber. You're, ugh," you groan, trying (and failing) to extricate yourself from her grip. She's stronger than she looks. When your arms protest the sudden movement, you give up, melting into her hold. "You're suffocating me."

"Yeah, but you like it," Amber tells you. She nuzzles into your neck, not even a little bit sorry. You can feel her smug smile against your skin, that wide grin of hers when she knows she's getting her way.

After some grumbling and weak protests otherwise, the two of you end up in a play wrestle. You don't try that hard, knowing that if you ever actually exert yourself to pushing Amber away she'd get even more excited. She likes this game. Too much, probably. The almost-violence, the thrill of playing rough with someone you care about. The danger. With how often Amber gets her way, sometimes it's nice to pretend that you won't just give it to her. But you both know how this always goes. You don't actually want to hurt her, and Amber wants more, more, more. She nips your neck hard enough to bleed.

It ends up with Amber on top of you, straddling your waist. Her hands encircle your wrists, pinning you to the sleeping bag. Her eyes sparkle as she stares down at you. Maybe you shouldn't find this so sexy. But the early morning sunlight hits illuminates Amber from behind and it makes her shine. She's still naked from last night, her pale skin marked with bruises from sleeping on the hard ground. Among the other activities you two got up to last night. Her hair is sticking up from tossing and turning, and the sleeping bag is bunched up around her waist. Now that's a view that's worth it. Amber looks like an angel. A sinister one who's celebrating winning by playing dirty, but an angel nonetheless.

"I could buck you off," you warn.

"Yeah, right." She knows you wouldn't. There's a look in her eye practically asking for you to try.

You assess the pros and cons. In truth, you're too hungover and tired from last night to try. And you can breathe again since Amber isn't crushing your windpipe with her arm around you. "...Fine. You win this time, Freeman."

Amber leans down into your warmth until you're pressed together again. "Damn right I do, babe," she mutters into your chest. A kiss there, at your collarbone, then a few more up towards the hickeys she left along your throat. You think you even feel her kissing at the bite she gave you. An apology for playing so rough? "Now shut up and cuddle me."

So now you're snuggled up with your violent cutie of a girlfriend, your arms loose around her waist. When she complains, you tighten your grip. Amber craves attention from you like she craves air.

Not too long passes before you hear the others outside. They're already getting up, unlike you two, getting breakfast together. Everyone besides Wes only brought booze and snacks, so you aren't surprised when you hear Chad annoying him. "Wes, come on," you hear Chad say, "you know you brought all that to share! What kinda friend lets his buddies starve to death, huh?"

"This is why everyone should actually use my checklists. I don't send them as a joke-" Whatever. You drown them out, instead focusing on the girl in your arms. Her eyes are closed, so there's some chance you're waking her up again.

"Your friends are annoying," you say to Amber. It's a fond observation though. They've all grown on you since you and Amber got together. With how tight-knit they are, you've had to hang out with them pretty often. They're all so different from each other and yet they're so close. Different interests, clashing personalities. Hell, if it weren't for the occasional horror movie marathons, you wouldn't think that they'd get along at all. "I don't know how you even deal with them."

"They're my best friends. And they have been since I was a kid, basically," Amber replies, her voice low so they don't hear her defending them. Everyone but Tara - and now you - haven't heard her like this. Sweet, caring. Loyal. She might be snarky with her friends, but deep down she loves each of them in her own way. "They can be annoying, yeah," she concedes, "but they matter to me."

Before you can crack a joke about how Amber must enjoy annoying since she's dating you, she snuggles closer. The two of you listen to the rest of her friends chattering away outside. Liv tells her boyfriend to stop annoying Wes, and Tara asks for breakfast in a less entitled way. Wes gives in, obviously, because Chad was right and he brought enough food for everyone on purpose.

"Plus, they're your friends now too, babe," Amber says.

With one last deep kiss before you two should get up, you sigh in contentment. Her lips are just that good. Fine. You can admit that camping isn't that bad. Camping with her, at least. Maybe it's fine to always let Amber win.

#amber freeman #amber freeman x reader #scream 5 #mikey madison #mikey madison x reader #amber freeman x y/n #amber freeman x you #scream 2022

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fairydares · 6 months

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loook i get why the idea of riding the "anti/pro" fandom disk horse makes people gag a little in their mouth and try to opt out entirely, but here's why i went from feeling exactly the same way to taking a firm profiction stance. I've been meaning to make this post for a while.

~10 years ago, I posted a fic for the first time and it got its own harassment campaign. The fic wasn't even sexual, and wasn't going to be (it remains incomplete). It was accurately rated T on fanfiction.net. Anyone in the Fairy Tail fandom will understand this: I literally got harassed for writing a "Lucy leaves the guild" fic💀.

After many nice comments, someone left a pretty nasty one. Hurt, I messaged them back. They acted super attacked that I'd responded (lmao) and after we argued, threatened to "rip my shitty story apart in the comments section" if I responded again. I told them "go ahead lol."

They went ahead.

Now know that it was a relatively small harassment campaign, but at the time, it was devastating. Right around then, I wound up in the hospital. After I got out, I went to excitedly check my fic, and found several reviews saying things I wouldn't repeat to my worst enemy. I was suicide-baited more than once, told "thank fuck you finally abandoned this shitty story, dumb cunt," stuff like that.

There were several accounts involved, and I can't say for sure, but I suspect at least a couple different people were involved, though probably at least half of it was one person.

All the other comments were screeching about how I hadn't updated, mostly. "NO UPDAAATEE WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPENS TO MEEEE??!!!" was one that stood out after I'd been miserable in a hospital for an extended period of time.

Idk what people think is going on when FT fic authors write this trope, and frankly I don't give a fuck. Because while I was partly writing the story out of some young, cringe feminist rage, I also did genuinely have a real story I was compelled to tell. I was inspired by another, popular fic I loved which used the trope to talk about how trying to shoulder our burdens alone really just hurts both ourselves and everyone who cares about us.

My own story was ultimately going to have similar themes, with more focus on strength, what it means, and in what contexts earning and having it actually matters. In retrospect, no wonder I wound up in hot water, because at the time "Lucy vs. Strength vs. Misogyny" was the FT fandom's Designated Nonsensically Activist Debate™. But that's partly why i wanted to write about it; engaging with the fandom had gotten me thinking about it 🤷‍♂️

Not too long after that, FFNet oh-so-benevolently granted us the ability to delete comments from our own stories (they never took my reports seriously at all, afaik). I deleted all or most of the harassers' comments (may still be a one or two up, and i'm fairly sure there's a couple comments defending my fic from the harassment) without saving screenshots, which I really regret now. I was just so mortified and full of self-loathing about the whole thing that i wanted to forget it completely. Something that had brought me joy at a very lonely, vulnerable period of my life had turned so negative, and i couldn't even tell the people closest to me about it without being made fun of for writing anime fan fiction.

I didn't understand why this happened at the time, but--after a period of trying to forget/bid out of it all with a slight anti lean (a common approach I see people use, and one which I'm not proud of adopting)--I just had to figure out What the Fuck Even Happened There. And I'm telling you, after years of reflecting, wrestling with both sides, and educating myself, that this "status quo of harassment" culture which pervades fandom goes way deeper than you think and comes out of a way darker well than you probably realize. An astonishing amount of this is, quite literally, TERF shit and evangelical shit.

Trying to be in fandom and take a stance of, "Anti/Pro shit? Ew, I'm Not Touching that," is like swimming in a heavily polluted river and being like, "Poison? Cringe. Not me lol."

You might be lucky enough to be in a less-polluted part of the river (AKA a relatively non-toxic fandom, in which case good for you!)...but tbh this rhetoric and peer-signalling will still seep in.

I can't stress enough that pro-fiction, AKA "proship", is the normal, leftist-about-art-and-sex opinion. Pro-ship is against all the horrible things you're against; in fact, pro-ship isn't trivializing real trauma by equating it with fictional trauma, or trying to apply literal evangelical/radfem solutions--which are proven not to prevent or help. Profiction/proship is literally just saying, "Fiction is fiction, reality is reality, and the two don't have a 1:1 relationship. And historically, trying to censor just things we've decided are bad has done nothing but get LGBTQ+ and POCs censored. Therefore, depictions of illegal things shouldn't be censored." That's it. "Proshippers all ship problematic ships," is a brazen lie. Many of them share other fans' disgust for those ships, they just don't believe in censoring fic authors over it.

It is also taking a stand against harassment because--and I hope my own story has helped drive this home--as with all groups who adopt ingroup/outgroup thinking, antis are defined by their tactics, not actual stances on real, serious issues. What happened to me was absolutely a result of anti, "it's okay to 'bully out' anything I just don't like" mindset pervading fandom. In a way, this was the mindset's final form. They didn't even feel the need to cite a reason the trope was "bad" or "wrong"; it annoyed them, and they viewed their own feelings as a valid enough pathway for policing to go right ahead and do so.

In the interest of offering solutions instead of just bitching about problems, I might make a "how to know if you've bought into these types of views"-type post sometime. Also might come back to this and provide some sources/citation.

#cw harassment #tw suicide-baiting #tw hospitalization #posts i actually wrote #fairy tail #nalu #fandom #fandom meta #proship #pro fiction #anti-censorship #fandom wank #profiction

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msbigredmachine · 23 hours

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You Again (Roman Reigns) - Part 2

That awkward moment when the biggest star in pro wrestling happens to be your high school bully…and he’s in your office. A 2-part series.

Pairing: Bully!Roman Reigns x OC

Word Count: 4.5k

Warning: Smut, stalking, bullying

MASTERLIST

The mirror was very good to her today. It was as though it knew she was in dire need of extra positive reinforcements and affirmations. She liked what she saw. Hair on point. Makeup on fleek. Body tea. Her favorite Black-owned swimwear brand came through with an outfit that was sure to turn heads at a gathering as important as this one. Evelyn looked amazing and felt powerful, a far cry from the timid, naive little girl that Joe exploited all those years ago.

Still tried to exploit only a week ago, with his bullshit talk about wanting her. Disregarding all the damage he’d inflicted on her self-esteem that took her damn near a decade to overcome. It was clear he hadn’t grown out of his childish mind games and she would not stand for it today or any other day. At least that’s what her brain kept telling her, repeating it over and over in her mind.

If only her body could show the same resolve, because it didn’t seem able to rid itself of the feel of his hands and his lips…his fingers...It was all she’d thought about all week, and her dildo was paying the price…

Aboard the superyacht, it was easy to find him, tall and striking, a drink in his hand as he conversed with Tessa and Khadijah, Wow’s CEO. Evelyn embraced the two ladies warmly and tried to keep her interaction with Joe as brief as possible. Of course, ever the one to take a mile from an inch, he pressed too close, his hand on the small of her back, lingering dangerously above the curve of her butt.

“Can we talk?” he whispered; she could have sworn his lips grazed the shell of her ear.

“No.” Her answer was immediate, a fake smile plastered on her face as she smoothly slithered out of his grasp. Suddenly craving a drink of her own, she made a beeline for the nearest bar and ordered herself a Blue Margarita. If she was going to be stuck on a boat with him for the next few hours, it was wise to make the most of it with a strong drink or two. Or three, depending on her level of anxiety which she fervently prayed would not be through the roof by the end of the day.

From her vantage point, she watched him be the center of attention, everyone clamoring to be in his presence. A slew of conflicting emotions she wanted nothing to do with rushed through her as several women threw themselves at him, eyeing him up like he was a big juicy T-bone steak. All the girls in school had fawned over him like this back then, and even now she couldn't stop the sharp thorn of jealousy from stabbing her insides. Some things had not changed after twenty years.

“I’m sorry, but I gotta be a fangirl right now. He is so fine,” Faith swooned, fanning herself. Evelyn wanted to hurl, and not due to seasickness. “This is probably a personal question, but Tessa said you and him went to high school together. What was he like?”

Yeah, no one needed to know the truth about them. “He was alright,” was her curt reply, changing the subject before her assistant could pry some more.

As the party dragged on, she noticed to her chagrin that he was almost always in her line of sight. This big ass man was lurking, hovering around her vicinity under the guise of mingling with other guests. Each time he edged closer, she was quick to extend the distance, caught in a ridiculous game of cat and mouse that she was not enjoying. She sought refuge again at the bar, indulging in three tequila shots the bartender placed before her. She knocked back the first without a breath, followed by the second, letting the alcohol burn her throat and numb her senses. She was reaching for the third when a huge hand suddenly swiped it out of her reach.

“You might wanna slow down with that,” said Joe.

For fuck’s sake!

She could only look on with annoyance as he consumed the shot for himself and slammed the glass on the table. “That was mine,” she griped.

Ignoring her, he rested against the woodgrain with a huff. “So this is your plan, huh? You gon’ keep avoiding me?”

Evelyn scoffed. “What makes you think I’m avoiding you?”

“You can’t even look me in the eye right now. The minute I come near you, you take off. Someone must’ve told you I like the chase.”

Her laugh was bitter and cynical. “Typical N’Stink Joe Anoa’i. You think everything revolves around your arrogant ass. I ain’t checkin’ for you, okay? I’ve leveled up.”

“I can see that,” he acknowledged, his tone deepening as his eyes slowly swept down her body. The intensity of his stare had her shifting in her seat. “You’re the most beautiful woman here, Evie. You always are.”

Flustered, Evelyn crossed her arms around herself protectively. "I don't know what you want, but—"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked, sidling closer.

"What, to harass me some more? You didn't get enough in school?" she ground out, a gasp escaping her when his face neared hers, their lips a hair’s breadth away. That familiar feeling of helplessness she thought she’d conquered long ago overwhelmed her once more, and for a brief moment, she was fifteen years old again, smothered by his domineering presence. He exuded this aura of raw power and heat, branding a sickening cocktail of loathing and longing into her skin.

"No. I didn't just not get enough," Joe replied. His eyes flickered to her full lips, mouth watering at the memory of their softness pressed against his. "I never got any of you. That was always the problem."

At a loss for words, Evelyn shook her head. She didn’t know what to expect, but this wasn’t it. It was clear he had no plans to make this comfortable for her. Wordlessly, she slid off the stool, sidestepping him and making yet another escape. Despite being in the lovely outdoors, she felt short of air, of breath. Her stomach had twisted in a painful throbbing knot; any more tension and she was going to lose her shit.

She pulled away from the general population and walked around the deck to the rear of the ship. The lower deck took her down a hallway where the guest cabins were situated. Tentatively, she opened one door, grateful to see an empty room. It was much quieter down here, with the music reduced to muted thumping, a welcome respite from the noise outside and the turmoil she’d been plunged into ever since that infuriating man reappeared in her life. She sat down on the small bed and blew out a few breaths, her face to the ceiling, closing her eyes to help her reclaim her composure.

Get your shit together. You’re Evelyn fucking Ashton, one of the most powerful women in fashion. Don’t let nobody play games with you, not even that asshole. He’s nothing to you anymore. Now go back out there and be the boss bitch everyone knows you are!

The door suddenly swinging open startled her. Her stomach dropped as Joe entered the cabin, his massive frame engulfing the door he quietly shut like some kind of horror movie monster. She leapt to her feet, panic swelling inside her.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she stammered, her eyes widening as he approached her slowly, deliberately. She scrambled backwards, unwittingly boxing herself into the corner of the room.

“I’m not letting you get away again, Evie, not this time,” Joe asserted, still advancing. A warped sense of deja vu overtook her as she was transported back in time to just a week ago, in the break room where this mess began.

“Get out or I’m gonna scream,” she threatened, swallowing hard as he stood impossibly close now, their chests touching.

His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Go ahead. As long as you hear me out when you’re done.”

Evelyn stood frozen, numb for a millisecond. Then, rage tore through her; ugly black rage that swept across her mind like dark thunderclouds. Her hand flew up, slapping him hard across the face, the impact rocking him a few steps back.

“Fine! You wanna talk, let’s talk!” she exploded. Struck him again. “You motherfucker! Who are you to demand anything of me? Do you have any idea what you did to me? What you put me through? I was a kid, Joe! A kid just like you and you made my life so fucking miserable! Why? Why did you hate me so much?”

She raised her clenched fists and beat them against his chest over and over. Joe didn’t move, his arms at his sides as he let her lash out. He deserved every blow; his actions had pushed her to this point. He took it even as her strikes became more aggressive, wincing as her nails raked his collarbone at one point. At the first sign of her tiring out, he gently gathered her into his arms, feeling her body tremble against him with sobs that tore at his heartstrings.

“I’m sorry,” he declared softly, cupping her chin to tilt up her tear-streaked face, praying she could see the sincerity in his eyes. “I’m fuckin’ sorry, Evelyn. I was wrong to hurt you.”

She dared to look up into his face, her heart skipping at the desire that blazed in his irises. She felt her whole body go warm and her loins pool. Why was this happening? Why did he still have such an effect on her after so many years?

In a move she both hoped he would and would not do, he dipped his head, brushing their lips together. That drew a sultry moan out of her as she pressed against him, leaving not even a sliver of space between them. He licked her bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth. She sighed and that opening was enough to let his tongue slip inside to meet hers. She could feel every hard plane of his body including the hardness that was growing against her belly, the sexual tension reaching seismic proportions.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she whispered, her voice small and pleading.

"Because I can’t help myself around you, baby,” Joe confessed, his breathing ragged. “I've never wanted anyone the way I wanted…want…you."

Those words loosened something inside her. He was telling her what she’d wanted to hear for years, what she’d never thought was possible, and the feeling was surreal.

“And I know you want me, too,” he added, a low groan accompanying the kiss on her cheek. “Tell me. Say it to me.”

Fuck it. Why tell him, when she could show him?

She pulled his head down for another kiss, their lips parting, tongues tangling with every turn of their heads. He wrapped his arms around her body, almost crushing her as he released her mouth to kiss her neck, suckling her soft brown skin. Evelyn closed her eyes and rested her head on the wall with a soft bite of her lip, captive to the sensations bombarding her. She was only aware of him, of this moment of bliss and what was coming next.

Joe lowered himself to his knees, leaving a trail of wet kisses on her exposed skin on his way down. He gathered her pants in his fists, pulling them down her legs. Her matching bikini bottoms were next, already damp from her arousal, pushing the skimpy material over her hips and past her ankles before honing in on her bare mound. He made a sound of approval as he circled his thumb over her moistening folds, admiring the puffiness of them, and smiled when Evelyn squirmed, sensitive to his intimate touch. He palmed her leg before slinging it over his shoulder, gripping her thigh to hold her steady.

Evelyn bit down hard on her lip to keep from screaming as his tongue lashed against her delicate, velvety folds. He devoured her like he was famished, his mouth giving long, suckling licks to every crevice and every spot it could find. Grabbing his shoulders, she cried out as he slid his middle finger inside her, right along her g-spot, her back arching against the wall from the dizzying sensation. Another finger followed shortly, her wetness immediately coating both digits as he thrust them in and out of her gushy pussy with ease.

“You taste better than I imagined.” Joe watched her closely, enraptured by the way she licked her lips and her eyes fluttered. He pumped his fingers faster, sucked her pussy a little harder, making nasty sloppy sounds with his warm, fat tongue that had her grinding into his face. It blew his mind how tight and wet she was; he couldn't get enough of her.

It was with the strength of Samson that Evelyn managed to shove his head away, stomach clenching at the sight of her nectar glistening on his thick beard. “There’s no time, just fuck me,” she scowled.

The big man’s eyes lit up at her demand as he made his way back up to kiss her, earning another moan from her taste coating her tongue. She pulled away long enough to yank his shirt off of him, her hungry stare fixated on his exposed muscles, the chiseled abs and chest tattoo her hands couldn't resist exploring. She allowed herself a small smile as his eyes shut briefly at her touch. He backed her towards the bed and dropped her flat on her back with him hovering above her. His hand cradled her thighs, spreading them and pressing his erection to her center. With his mouth back on hers, he pulled her right thigh around his hip, grinding against her, with her grinding with him, her fingers embedded in his muscled forearms.

"Please," Evelyn breathed. She knew it was a bad idea. She knew crossing this line would never resolve her past trauma. But she also couldn't help the way she felt, like her world would crumble to pieces if she didn’t feel him on her, in her; if she didn’t finally give in to the urges that he’d awoken after two decades of slumber.

Joe tugged down his shorts with one hand, and she sucked in a breath at the sight of his dick protruding from a manscaped tuft of pubic hair. It was long and thick with a slight curve, and her eyes began to water when he pushed it against her soaked opening, entering her inch by inch. Despite how wet she was, she was equally as tight, and he had to work to fit into her.

“Oh my god.” She had expected this. Almost. The stretch of him, this delicious and this full, inside of her. She knew he would go deep, but here he was reaching her in that one area no one else seemed able to find. He hooked her other knee over his arm, rolling his hips until he was fully sheathed inside her. He rested his forehead against hers, cursing as her inner muscles clenched around him. Their eyes locked as his hands pressed down firmly on her thighs, holding her open to take him balls-deep. Their pants and moans mingled with slaps of bare skin echoing in the tiny cabin, all of it blocked out thankfully by the music blaring obliviously outside.

The haze of pleasure had Evelyn squeezing her eyes shut, overwhelmed by the pleasure ravaging her body. Her hands moved up his muscular back, her nails scraping his taut, bronzed skin as he switched up with faster, deeper thrusts. She felt his fingers tighten around the back of her knees, felt his mouth cover her throat with wet, breathy kisses as his voice, low and gruff, penetrated her sex-fogged brain.

"I never thought I'd see you again," he murmured against her neck, "I couldn't believe you left me.”

"Bull…fuck…bullshit,” She could hardly think straight with his thick dick buried in her, her legs pinned to the bed with no chance to wriggle out. “You hated me, you—fffuuck," Her words disappeared in another groan when he circled his hips, nudging his dick several inches further inside her.

"I never hated you. I hated how you made me feel." One hand came up to yank her bikini top down and knead her breast. "Unsure of myself. Out of character. Weak for you," he continued. “I jerked off to you countless times…I…I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It broke my heart when you left. For years, I missed you. I fuckin’ named my daughter after you-”

Evelyn gaped at him in shock. “Your daughter’s name is Evelyn?!”

“No. Amara. Your middle name.”

There was no time to react to this revelation as his big hands lifted her hips off the bed to meet his thrusts, forcing her mouth open in a soundless cry as he slammed breath after breath out of her with gloriously deep, plunging strokes. The force and power of him made her thighs tremble as her pussy finally gave in, gushing all over his groin. She wanted to cuss him out for making her come so hard, but all that came out of her mouth were pathetic, pitiful moans. Joe's eyes shone with excitement at the mess she was making, relishing every moment of her losing control to him. He gifted her a toe-curling kiss before flipping her over, smacking her bare ass.

“On your knees,” he ordered.

Too worked up to argue, she positioned herself on all fours and looked back at him expectantly. It was hard to deny how hot it was, seeing this big, sexy ass mountain of a man naked, big hand on his equally big dick, massaging it with her juices. Chuckling at the lust in her eyes, he nudged her thighs further apart and rubbed his palm along her gushy entrance, smearing her mess all over, making her moan.

“Mmm. Pussy drippin’ everywhere. You been needin’ me, huh, baby?” he said.

“Put that dick back in me,” she rasped, bumping her ass against him, eager for more. She felt his tip forge inside her, a tortuously slow entrance that had her chin scraping her chest as she moaned out in pleasure. Inch by inch, his own jaw clenching at the greed with which her pussy suckled him in. As she writhed on his dick, his mouth found her ear, tongue tracing the delicate lobe as he slid in deep from behind with his big body hunched over her. He felt huge from this angle, and Evelyn gasped, her mind spiraling from the fullness of him.

“Since I left your office, I haven’t thought about anything else but you. All my fantasies from years ago returned and I had to have you…Fuck, Evie, you feel fuckin’ amazing.” He leaned back and yanked her hips higher, deepening the arch of her back. The slap of his heavy balls against her clitoris caused her velvety walls to ripple around the length and girth of him. The shit was so good that she dug her fingers into the sheets, throwing her ass to catch his backshots as she whined his name. The low, husky moans that escaped from his throat gave away how good he was feeling just like she was, the sounds flowing through them both like beautiful music.

“You takin’ this dick like a champ, baby. Is it everything you dreamed of, huh?" Joe grunted, his fingers clinging to the meat of her thick hips, bewitched by the sight and feel of the big, round cheeks slapping against his pelvis, the mesmerizing recoil leaving him in a heady trance. Even in his nastiest dreams, it never looked this good.

“Fuuuuck, yes. Ohhh…” she whimpered, her voice cracking from complete bliss. He seemed determined to bury his dick in her stomach and was succeeding, nestling in the warmth of her cunt and keeping her in place as she gasped from every inch he made her take. He trailed his hand between her thighs, using two long fingers to strum on her clit, and hissed as she tightened around him right away. “Mmm, this little pussy squeezin’ my shit, you boutta come all over my d-”

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“Evelyn? Are you in here?”

They both froze as Faith’s concerned voice sounded from the other side of the door. Evelyn’s heart rate accelerated; the door wasn’t locked, so Faith could easily walk in if she wanted to. Her career and her reputation flashed before her eyes, her life ruined yet again because of Joe fucking Anoa’i. She started to scramble out of the bed, trying to get away, but his strong, inked arm locking around her waist put a stop to that. She cast a panicked glance back at him but only received an amused wink in response.

“She asked you a question,” he said for her hearing only, kissing her cheek.

Fighting off her rising anxiety, Evelyn called out as casually as possible, “I’m here, Faith. What is it?”

“Are you okay? I’ve been looking for you.”

“Yes…yes, I’m fine. Just a little seasick-” Her words evaporated when his fingers twined into her hair, gently pulling back, his nose nuzzling the crook of her extended neck. Incredulously, he started thrusting into her again, rolling his hips slowly so as to not make any noise. Her agitation levels were at an all time high, battling with the warm burn he was inducing in her tightening stomach.

“You sure?” Faith was saying.

His other hand cupped her breast, groping generously as his dick nudged right up against her g-spot. The nerve of him, trying to make her climax again even with Faith mere feet away! “Positive,” Evelyn called out, her pussy clenching when Joe angled her face and slyly tongue-kissed her mid-sentence. It took all of her strength to keep talking. “I’m fine, Faith. Go on. I’ll be out in a minute,” she ground out, praying that she would listen.

“Alright. Will do. You’re missing a great party though, so hurry back!”

The second Faith’s footsteps faded, Joe struck, his big paw on the back of Evelyn’s neck pinning her face-down as he upped his tempo, pounded her out with fierce, needy ruts of his hips. “Good girl, you did so good. Now nut on my dick again,” he encouraged with another hard spank to her ass, breathing out soft moans of his own as his own climax beckoned.

“Oh my fuckin’ god,” Evelyn moaned helplessly into the mattress. Fireworks burst behind her eyelids, her entire body quivering as it exploded from blinding pleasure. Her pussy pulsed and leaked all over his dick, finally dragging him over the edge as well. She’d never heard anything as sexy as his hushed, almost strangled groans as he released inside her, big dick throbbing, emptying his essence into her soaked depths.

For a long moment, neither could move, recovering from the shock of the last several minutes. His hand lightly smacking her ass caught her off guard as he withdrew from her with a low groan. The warmth of his body disappeared, the weight of the small bed easing as he climbed out of it. The ruffle of heavy fabric was loud in the stunned silence of the room as he picked up his shorts and put them back on. Evelyn squeezed her eyes closed, horror dawning as she emerged from her desire-induced stupor and realized what just happened.

Joe cleared his throat awkwardly. "Evie..."

Ignoring him, she rolled out of the bed, hating that her legs wobbled as she stood. She hunted in her purse for a wet wipe, her back deliberately turned as she cleaned up the evidence of their tryst off her body. Without a word, she threw the wipe into the small trash can in the corner, adjusted her bikini top and slid her underwear and pants back on.

"Evie wait, hold on…Evie…Evelyn!" His deep voice rose, more demanding as he sensed her about to run off again. He was quicker, blocking her path to the door before she could escape. Despite her shame, her ego couldn’t help but swell at how deliciously rumpled he looked, knowing she did that to him. He ran a hand through the strands of hair that had escaped his once neat ponytail. "Look, I still think we should talk," he said.

It took everything in her to not laugh and cry at the same time. “Talk? After this?!” she exclaimed, "I don't know what I was thinking, but this was a huge mistake." More humiliation shot through her as she realized she'd not only let her high school bully fuck her, but they did it raw on a boat filled with her colleagues! Her assistant had almost caught her, too! The embarrassment was suffocating and she needed out asap.

She moved around him but he stopped her again, his hand catching her wrist. "No. Don’t run off on me again." His jaw clenched, his voice hesitant. "I've been beating myself up for a long, long time for what I did to you." He brushed his thumb over the apple of her cheek. “Please…let me make it up to you.”

“You can’t. It’s…it’s too late,” Evelyn argued, painfully aware that she was in a losing battle with her emotions.

"No, sweetheart, it ain’t,” Joe insisted. “I leave town in two days. Have dinner with me tomorrow night. I got a lot to apologize for. Give me a chance, Evie. Please."

Her sigh was tired and resigned, recognizing that he was not going to drop this. So she took the easy way out. "Fine. And after that I never want to see or hear from you again."

Joe chuckled, his arm snaking around her waist and drawing her close. This time she didn’t push him off. A good sign. “You already forgot we’re working together soon. Besides, is that really what you want, baby girl?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“You sure?” He leaned down and kissed her softly, his soft lips moving sensually against hers. Like butter next to heat, she was melting into him again, kissing him back once, twice, three times, before she jerked away abruptly. “I ain’t your toy no more, Joseph,” she warned, a frown tainting her beautiful face. “Dinner and that’s it. Text me the time and place and I’ll be there.”

“I’ma make you change your mind about me,” he vowed, the arrogance in his baritone reverberating around the room and caressing her skin.

Meeting his eyes dead-on, a defiant smirk crossed her lips as she opened the door. “Oh, I highly doubt that. See you around, N’Stink.”

How she got back to the upper deck in one piece, she wasn’t sure. It was as though she was floating on air, her body light as air for the first time in ages. Despite her elation, a part of her still worried about this new, interesting step she had taken and where it would lead her. Confusing. Conflicting.

Faith perked up when she returned. “There you are! I was gonna come find you again.” She peered closely at her boss with a concerned expression. “Hey, are you okay? Feel better? You do look a little flushed,” she observed.

“I’m fine.” Evelyn snatched two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray and gulped both of them down in record time, ignoring Faith’s bewildered gaze. “Do me a favor?”

“Sure,” said Faith, eager to help.

“When we get off this boat, get me the sluttiest dress and stilettos you can find in my size, and a box of Plan B.”

THE END.

------------------

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shdo-xplosion · 1 year

Text

SLIMEBALL!AIZAWA X READER

Warnings: dubcon, explicit content, aizawa wrestles with his conscience but his dick wins, aloe vera as lube, talk of when reader was his student, almost somnophilia, fingering, p in v, creampie, cum play, fem-bodied reader, reader is white-coded, described as turning pink/red from sunburn

Word Count: 2.1k

Notes: my contribution to the Wet Hot Slimeball Summer collab! thank you to @bastardblvd for letting me join! i’ve been wanting to write aizawa for a little while now and this just possessed me. hope everyone has fun with it, and make sure to check out the masterlist for more slimy content!

He should wake you up, give you a nudge where you lay in your beach towel, but Shouta can’t bring himself to. Not when he has such a perfect view of your body, the arch of your back, the curve of your ass, the way your tits squish out from beneath you, your skimpy top barely doing anything to cover them.

Fuck, he should wake you up. Your skin is already turning pink. You’re going to have painful burn lines that will peel and turn into sexy tan lines, and Shouta has to shake his head to get the image out of his mind.

His sick mind. There must be something wrong with him. You were his student for fuck’s sake, and sure, you haven’t been for a few years now. Now you’re a big shot pro, one of the top 10, but he can still remember you sitting in the back row of his classroom, mouthy, obnoxious, still learning to control your quirk.

He remembers having to tell you to shut your mouth every single day, a mouth that he finds himself staring at more and more, lips parted and pouty, and Shouta wants to slide his fingers between them, feel your tongue on his fingerprints.

But he refrains, just bites the inside of his cheek and looks out at the waves.

The beach houses are nice, other pros having rented a few out for a nice little getaway. There are still heroes in the city to protect civilians, nothing to worry about. All Shouta has to do is relax.

He’s in a house with Hizashi, All Might, Snipe, and you, and his patience is running thin. Between Toshinori’s loud ass voice and Hizashi forgetting to turn on his hearing aids, Shouta is beginning to think that maybe he does deserve a little treat. Maybe he should indulge.

No. No. Ex-student. And the media would have a field day if anything ever got leaked. Not worth it. Definitely not worth it.

But hours later finds everyone back in their respective houses, resting after a long day in the sun. Hizashi and Toshinori are passed out and Snipe has retired to his room, probably also sleeping, leaving Shouta tired but awake, listening to you hiss every time you move.

“Jesus, I haven’t had a sunburn like this since I was a kid,” you whine.

“Should’ve put on more sunscreen,” Shouta replies. Or he could’ve just woken you up. Been an actual good person instead of perving on you in your bikini.

“I meant to! But the sun felt nice, and the waves were so soothing, and I just…”

“Dozed off. Just let all those UV rays cook you.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t need a lecture, Aizawa Sensei,” you scoff, and the way the old title makes Shouta’s dick twitch in his sweatpants. Fuck.

“You’re right, you’re right. How about I go pick up some aloe vera, then?” he offers. He needs to put some space between the two of you.

“What, I’ll stop whining?”

“Maybe,” he smirks.

Once he pulls on a shirt Shouta leaves and makes his way down to the little shop at the end of the street. All it sells is beach stuff, but lucky him, that’s all he needs.

One bottle of overpriced aloe vera and a meaningless chat with the cashier, and Shouta is on his way back to the house. He wonders if you’ll lather it on in front of him. Maybe you’ll even ask him to help.

The lightweight shirt you had put on earlier must be too much for your raw skin because you’ve gotten rid of it, walking around in a t-shirt bra and little shorts. Have you gotten even redder?

“Oh, thank god.”

“Let me throw it in the freezer for a few minutes,” Shouta says, pulling the bottle out of your reach when you practically lunge for it. “It’ll feel better cold.”

“But Aizawaaa,” you pout, sounding a lot like a petulant child, crossing your arms only to whimper and drop them back to your hips.

“It’ll be worth it. I promise.” Without giving it much thought he hooks a finger under your chin, thumb flicking your pushed-out bottom lip. When you don’t recoil from the touch, he fights to keep from pulling you closer.

Unfortunately, you don’t ask him for help when you apply the cold cream to your skin, but Shouta is granted a look at your hardened nipples through the material covering them, the icy aloe making you break out in goosebumps.

“Thank you for getting this,” you say genuinely. “It’s gonna make my nap so much easier.”

Shouta has always been good at hiding his emotions, so you aren’t able to see the disappointment he feels as he watches you retreat to your room, the green bottle in hand.

It’s fine though because an hour later he finds himself creeping in after you, eyes locked on your sleeping form. You’re lying on your stomach, likely to avoid the burn on your back that you weren’t able to reach. No blankets are covering you, the heat from your skin keeping you well warmed.

The bottle of aloe is on the nightstand, and Shouta reaches for it—room temperature now, and squirts some in his hand.

He’s doing you a favor, he reasons with himself. Your back is an ugly (beautiful) red, and he wants to help soothe you.

His hands on you don’t wake you immediately, just make you sigh and snuggle further into your pillow. Shouta gently rubs the remedy over you, as careful as possible. You feel so nice under his palms, so warm and smooth, the dip of your back calling to him. He could make you arch further, make your hips roll and buck. Your shorts ride low, waistband just above the swell of your ass, and Shouta wants nothing more than to rip them off, but he resists. Instead, he rubs up your sides, slowly and purposefully, fingers barely dipping beneath the elastic of your bra so that he grazes the sides of your tits.

That makes you stir, eyes slowly opening as tired little noises make their way out of your throat.

“”zawa?” you ask quietly, and his self-control breaks.

“Shh, just relax,” he tells you in a low voice. “It’s okay, m’just taking care of you.”

He sees your eyebrows furrow, and you try to roll over, but his strong hand presses against the small of your back to keep you from turning.

He unclasps your bra, squirts a generous amount of aloe between your shoulder blades, and begins working again. At first he thinks you believe that his actions truly are innocent. You can’t see or feel how hard he is in his sweats, how precum is already beading at his tip.

That belief is shattered when he moves his hands upward again, this time sliding under you to cup your tits.

“Aizawa!” You push yourself so that you’re sitting up awkwardly, but all it does is make it easier for him to grope you and press his lips to your shoulder.

“You don’t have to pretend you don’t want this,” he drawls, smirking into your skin. “I haven’t forgotten about your little schoolgirl crush.” Because as much as you may have annoyed him in class, you still looked at him with hearts in your eyes. It was easy for him to deduce that all your smartass comments were just to get his attention.

“That doesn’t mean…” You trail off when he pinches both of your nipples, pulling a quiet moan from you.

“Just once, sweetheart. You owe me after teasing me the last few days.”

“I wasn’t…”

“Walking around in your short little dresses, prancing around with these pretty tits falling out of your bikini tops.” He gives you a tight squeeze before letting go of the plump flesh in order to trail his hands down further. “Let me have you just once.”

You only resist a little when he pushes you back down on the bed, face down again. You’ve lost your bra, and Shouta is quick to pull your cotton shorts down your legs, revealing that you’re wearing nothing underneath them.

He groans, groping your ass, bouncing your cheeks before spreading them to show your folds.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he growls, running a finger down your slit as far as he can. You’re already wet for him—such a good girl—but he still wants to get you slicked up and messy.

Shouta grabs the bottle of aloe vera once again, covering his fingers with it then slowly pushing two of them inside of you.

“Ahh, fuck, ‘zawa,” you gasp. With your cheek against the pillows, Shouta can see the way your mouth opens, eyes wide as they flick around to whatever you can see. Your body is tense, but you aren’t fighting him, thighs parting a little more.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he purrs. You don’t respond, just bite your bottom lip. Doesn’t matter. As long as you let him touch you he’ll be a happy man.

Pumping his fingers, Shouta stares at your reddened skin and gets the idea to mark you, presses his fingertips into your flesh then pulls them away, admiring the light circles they leave behind. Mesmerized, he grips your ass with one hand, squeezing to create those same marks just under the curve.

“Fuck, you’re sexy.” He punctuates it with a spank that makes you jolt, but you quickly melt when he curls his fingers a certain way. “You ready for my cock, baby? I’ll be gentle. I know you’re sore.”

A lie. He slicks himself up with more aloe then thrusts into your heat all at once, stretching you on his fat cock and holding you in place when you squirm.

“Y-you said… nnfuck.”

“I know what I said, but your pussy is just too—” he snaps his hips back and forth, eyes rolling in his head. “Too sweet. Can’t help it.”

Shouta tugs you up so that you’re on your knees, back pressed to him, and he knows the friction is hurting you, the coarse hair on his chest chafing your raw skin, but at this angle he can reach in front of you to play with your neglected clit, massaging it with two fingers.

“‘zawa let me… at least let me ride you,” you plead.

It’s a tempting thought, but… “you feel so good like this, though. So warm, taking my cock so well.”

He presses a hand low on your tummy, swears he can feel his dick moving, but he gets distracted when you let your head hang back to rest on his shoulder. Opportunity presents itself with your neck so open, and Shouta wraps his fingers around your throat, just barely squeezing.

He’s so deep inside you, cockhead nudging your cervix. Ohh, he wants to fuck you so full of his cum, wants to see you sprawled on the mattress dripping with him, wants to see you ruined.

Words stick in your throat, but your lips are moving like you want to say something. Shouta pants in your ear, “what is it, baby? What do you want?”

“Wanna—wanna cum,” you whimper, and now Shouta knows that you’ve fully accepted him. You’re not mad at him for fucking you, no. You want this. You want him.

“Cum, then,” he growls, nipping your earlobe. “Cum on my cock, I wanna feel your pussy—”

Your back arches painfully, sensitive skin pulling taut as you cry out and cream all over him. Feeling your cunt contract around him, Shouta fucks into you harder and deeper, using you like a rag doll as he gets lost in your climax, climbing to his own.

He’s not sure he’s ever cum so hard in his life, thick lines shooting from his dick and coating your guts. Shouta bites into your shoulder hard enough for you to yelp and try to slap him away, but all of his muscles are so tight that even his jaw is locked. His hips stutter as strings of white keep shooting into you, your used cunt so full of him that it starts leaking back out of you.

When he pulls out, Shouta scoops some of his cum out of you, dazed as he smears it down the pink of your spine.

“What the hell are you doing?” you ask breathlessly, falling forward onto the mattress and glaring.

Shouta shrugs his shoulders. “Aloe works just as good as lube. Maybe cum’ll work well as aloe.”

“That’s disgusting.”

So is he. But at least he finally learned to relax on his vacation.

2023©️shdo-xplosion. please do not plagiarize or repost my work to any other platforms.

#aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #tw dubcon

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bunnys-kisses · 1 month

Note

Hello Bunny!! I'm not too sure if you do works based on pro wrestling. But if you did, I'd love love love if you did something for Maxwell Jacob Friedman (AEW). Feel free to totally delete if you don't want to do it or know nothing about it!

If you do accept it, I'd love s'mores, belgian waffles with a side of dark hot chocolate and bubble tea! (I hope you can see my vision!)

Tysm <333 - 🤼

bakery menu

want to suggest your own order? hit up the menu! c'mon, it doesn't bite! i accept prompts from across many fandoms and i'll do whatever at this point. as for this lovely anon, thank you for submitting a prompt! i know sometimes it can be a bit confusing about sending outside of the traditional fandoms. but honestly, i'm willing to dig my hands into figuring out how to put this together! so thank you! enjoy!!

and feel free to check out the master-list!

s'mores ("The accent gets to you, doesn't it?") + belgian waffles ("i cum in that every night.") + dark hot chocolate (sub!reader) + bubble tea (daddy kink) served by maxwell jacob friedman (aew/wrestling)!!

cw: smut/pwp, mean & cocky!mjf (duh), rough sex, daddy kink, sub/dom dynamics, dirty talk, voice kink, face-fucking/oral sex

you'd never consider maxwell a bully. even when he got in your face, you always tried to stand toe-to-toe with him. there was something about him, something that drove you to want to push him to the limit.

but if you bit, then maxwell returned the favour til it broke bone.

"The accent gets to you, doesn't it?" he said with all smiles, pointed and venomous. his face close to yours, if things were more softer, then the scene might have been intimate.

instead you pushed him away by the forehead and replied, "honestly. your voice is the reason why the rest of the world thinks americans are stupid." you'd grow to regret your words.

"you are so cute when you squirm." he shook his head, a smile on his lips as he leaned a little forward to get a better look at you, "sometimes a girl's gotta know her place, huh? making a sick joke out of me in front of everyone else."

he loomed over you like a storm cloud as you knelt between his legs. your mouth stuffed full of his cock as you tried to keep it together. his hand was in your hair, forcing you to go down further.

"i should really start going around and saying '"i cum in that every night.' because i don't want people to get the wrong idea about you. oh poor you, dealing with me every day." he gave you a look of faux sympathy, "they probably think you're the one who pulls my leash. no, no. you have it all wrong." he pushed up into your throat a little more, "i have you on a short leash, don't i, baby girl? you like when daddy yanks on it a little too hard. you like getting choked, and don't you deny it." your gaze met with his and drool coated your chin. you couldn't even speak back.

perfectly at maxwell's mercy.

he continued to rub his cock up against the back of your throat. it felt good, he had spent many months trying to face fuck the gag reflex out of you. and it seemed to be working.

"see, you look better like this, angel. on your knees, my cock in your throat. quiet. you always look better when you're not being a snappy little bitch." he groaned as he continued to fuck your throat. he hissed through his teeth as he kept his gaze on your head.

your eyes were closed, but he knew that they were a bit dewy. someone can only choke on cock for so long before they start to cry. as was the nature of things.

you gagged a little bit, but maxwell just pushed a little farther. you gripped onto his knees. your nose buried in his pubic hair, when you inhaled, you took in the scent of his sweat. which both disgusted you, but also made you slick between your legs.

maxwell was the kind of domineering that left you with aches and pains. he liked when his smacks across your ass made the flesh shake or when his hands made a pretty necklace around your delicate throat. the bulkiness of him pressed down on you to keep you pinned under him.

he moved you to his liking, twisting up his baby girl in a way that got him off. but don't worry angel, daddy would make it all better in the end.

he took your mouth off his cock for a moment and gazed at your blissed out expression. even your tongue hung out of your mouth a little. the sight made him chuckle, "see, you can be a good girl for daddy. i'm so proud... now why don't you prove yourself to me and finish me off." then leaned back into the couch. he patted his thigh, "c'mon. if you're gonna act like a brat and talk back to me. then i gotta bruise that little throat of yours so you keep quiet." he smiled at you and you felt pleasure lick at your gut.

if anyone saw and heard what you two were doing. the sickening words that maxwell was filling with your head. then it would definitely raise some eyebrows. but you swallowed and rubbed your bare thighs together.

for you, it was hot.

you got your mouth back on his cock and didn't even flinch when the blunt tip of his cock hit against the back of your throat. you made a small whimpering nose and maxwell hissed through his teeth.

"pretty fucking thing. yeah, you like this don't you? you like when guys who could crush you fuck your throat until they get their sick kicks. i bet i could throw you to the rest of them and you'd be happy to let them fuck you into next week." he clutched onto your hair, "but too bad for you, slut. because you're not going anywhere."

not that you wanted to. you were perfectly content with this bared fang sexual experience. you let him throat fuck you and you held onto his legs. you tried to keep up, but it was hard.

maxwell's pace was erratic and it made flashes appear in the back of your head. he knew he was close. he could feel the tightness in his gut as he continued to bully his cock into your mouth.

"dirty girl. fucking dirty girl. just take me nice and good, okay? take care of your daddy and he'll make everything else better. okay? can you do that for me." he groaned as his pace became more erratic.

he knew he'd have the rest of the night with you. by the end of it, it would be more than your throat that was bruised. he gave it a few heavy thrusts before he came down your throat.

you made a small noise as you tried to swallow it all down and maxwell stilled to a stop. he kept his cock in your mouth for a moment, letting it rest on your tongue. he wished his phone was near by, he'd love to make his lockscreen a picture of you like that.

he rubbed your cheek with more affection than anything else the entire night. he took his cock out of your mouth and watched you rest your cheek against his thick thigh.

his dewy eyed little princess. it was almost cute. he patted your cheek and said, "alright, let's got you up. come here, come to daddy." he said as he helped you into his lap. so naked and vulnerable.

you rested up against his chest and gasped for hair. having a limited supply for so long made it all a bit too much. but yet you were soaked against his strong thigh.

maxwell promised he'd make it all better. he wasn't a monster, he'd always make sure that his baby girl was alright. <3

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graceandtheidiotsquad · 7 months

Text

Dumb Character Headcanons: Champion Cynthia

I am having brainrot over the queen of sinnoh ok. I love her and her crazy family so much-! I apologize for how random some of these are-some of them I got inspiration from popular ones from, some from AUs i've seen and some I just made up on the fly-Ok, enough rambling-on with the show!

- TOTAL. MOMMA. BEAR. She just-has very motherly, protective vibes and despite being one of the most generally considered TERRIFYING CHARACTERS IN THE SERIES (and I'm mildly scared of her too!) she'd probably take you out for ice cream after battling her to celebrate a job well done, win or lose.

- Speaking of ice cream, I think this is not only a popular hc i agree with but they made it CANON In the anime that she cannot, for the life of her, decide what flavor she wants and will just stand there for 15 minutes weighing all the pros and cons and unintentionally holding up the line. I mean she'll move when she realizes and apologize PROFUSELY but still- ...But would YOU tell her to hurry up and choose?? No, I don't think so.

- Her hair is usually either down most of the time or tied up in a bun. But only for when she needs it-she doesn't care how messy it gets, she just likes being wild I suppose. Sometimes you'll find her literally wrestling one of her pokemon for fun (usually Garchomp) and her hair will be full of leaves and sticks, and not a care in the world! One of her family taught her how to tie her hair back in a bun, and though she adores them-she was quite the pain to get to stand still long enough to even TRY as a child.

- You wouldn't think it, with how classy she is-...buuuuuut she was almost a leash kid. You think she gets this intimidation factor just from being so classy and dramatic alone? No, she can be fucking FERAL when she wants to be. Sometimes the Sinnoh League will have trouble finding her to get her to report to her champion duties as she's gotten distracted and wandered off to explore some ruins somewhere in the region and never told anyone where she was going.

- She used to and still can climb trees in seconds if left unattended. This has lead to many a heart-attack for her grandmother, watching her little baby Cynthia nearly DIE falling out of said tree, only to be completely unharmed and even LAUGHING at the experience.

- Actually is a REALLY big fan of the wrestling/battle royale circuit. She can and will burst out singing some of the intros at the top of her lungs, much to the shock of ANYONE in the room with her.

- She also happy dances and likes to put on music when she works. She loves piano but even she can't resist a good earworm, humming along to it as she runs around the local library or (reluctantly) winds up cooped up inside doing or cleaning up paperwork. This is implied to be canon in a spinoff game (Pokemon Masters EX if you're curious) and I totally agree that she just-cannot be bothered to clean up her office and it's almost CONSTANTLY a mess because she keeps getting distracted by new things to look at or something she hadn't seen in ages (BECAUSE of the mess) like a book and just winds up reading it all day. It's a vicious cycle!

- The reason she loves piano so much is she actually knows how to play, and is VERY Good at it! A very dear member of her family taught her when she was very young and she plays to help remember him-wherever the hell he's wandered off to now. Music connects us just as much as pokemon do, in her mind-so whenever she plays, he's right beside her again-whether physically or not.

- She has inherited the family 'way too fucking tall' gene and that does NOT help her intimidating appearance sometimes.

- Sometimes casually speaks fluent Latin/Greek just to confuse the shit outta people. Look, she isn't usually spiteful-but even the most graceful and kind people have their limits. The same person who taught her piano taught her it-probably for that express purpose. Also several swear words. (thankfully if she ever swears, it's in said language so hardly anyone will know-)

- She grew up feeling-quite isolated from others her age because of her intense focus on studying history and battling competitively. Mostly the history thing-the battling thing probably didn't help as most kids were likely TERRIFIED of how intense she got. But-...i think that's why she loved that member of her family so much. Finally, someone who understood her...! He'd even given her the egg that would hatch into her Garchomp. (It was SUPPOSED to be a togepi, that wouldn't cause much hassle aside from the occasional accident with metronome-...but NOOOOOO, he decided to let her cause havoc. Her grandma nearly smacked him.)

- Honestly if you told her you were a demon or some supernatural shit she'd probably be more fascinated and barrage you with questions than scared. Or kick ass if you were hostile-DO. NOT. FUCK. WITH THE CHAMPION OF SINNOH.

- She may or may not be guilty of spoiling hers and other people's Pokémon with treats. She can't help it! She has a WEAKNESS for puppy dog eyes, whether it be her own Pokémon, any she's babysitting (she feels like someone who would do that if asked) Or young trainers she's taken a shine to.

- Wound up with a heavy ass, GIGANTIC hand-me-down backpack from who-knows how many generations ago and yes, she CAN lug it around with ease. She doesn't much for her league job, but it's her go-to when it comes to adventuring or exploring. - Speaking of the backpack-she often carries her spiritomb outside of its pokeball inside while in particularly rough areas, usually hiding inside its keystone. You never know if you'll need a pokemon for backup and don't have time to reach for one of your pokeball before things get dicey, after all-and the sight of a very angry ghost and dark type pokemon erupting from an ancient backpack is more than enough to send anyone who would likely cause trouble PACKING-looking almost as if something is being summoned right behind her! (She doesn't know why she looks so terrifying that way, but at least it means no one will cause too much trouble)

- An absolute GIRLBOSS for sure-but also very, very soft when it comes to people she loves. She'll gush and gush about her family members-especially younger ones, or trainers she's mentally adopted (and she does this a lot.) as her own 'pack', so to speak. She'll try to tone it down if it makes them uncomfortable but it's so HARD-she feels so blessed to have people who love her for who she is, as strange and beautiful and intimidating and just a little bit odd as she can be that she just HAS to spread word about how amazing they are! (She's like one of those moms who shows off photos of her kids all the time, just not in an annoying way if that makes sense?? At least she tries not to be-but once she starts rambling about them or ANYTHING it is almost impossible to get her to stop!)

- Often makes hand gestures like pointing when she speaks, especially when she gets excited. She often doesn't realize she's doing it half the time-but she always does it when taking pictures. She just-feels like her hands HAVE to be doing something!

- I will not give away the massive spoiler this ties into but she OWNS the song Blood Right by Madame Macabre. JUST-IF YOU DONT WANT SPOILERS FOR LEGENDS ARCEUS, JUST-BE PREPARED YOU'RE IN FOR A RIDE!

#pokemon #pokemon cynthia #dppt #diamond pearl platinum #pokemon dppt #pokemon legends arceus #legends arceus spoilers #kinda???#i mean it's in the thumbnail of the playlist so I hope that's ok #champion cynthia #sinnoh #pokemon diamond and pearl #pokemon platinum #pokemon brilliant diamond #pokemon shining pearl #pokemon gen 4 #Spotify

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thistledropkick · 1 year

Text

Last year, Kasai Jun was interviewed as part of the interview project DEATH, which interviews various people about death in order to find a better understanding of how to live and appreciate life.

I thought it was a fascinating interview, so I decided to translate it.

Please go visit the original interview - the photography accompanying it is absolutely gorgeous.

Also, please don't repost this whole translation elsewhere. If you want to quote an excerpt of my translation for something, please make sure to also credit the original team behind this interview and link back to the original interview.

Deathmatch Fighter Kasai Jun - 4/27/2022

“It’s not a deathmatch until you return home alive” The reason this 47 year old Charisma Wrestler continues to shed blood in the ring

Within pro wrestling, there is a genre called “deathmatch.”

An extreme set of rules that allows deadly weapons and has no disqualifications. Brawls with fluorescent light tubes, and dives onto barbed wire boards. Without hesitation, wrestlers stab their opponents in the head with fistfuls of bamboo skewers. When wound-covered bodies violently collide, shards of glass and sprays of blood shower the ringside seats.

Upon first seeing it, surely everyone thinks “Why are these people hurting each other like this?” “What the hell am I looking at?”

This is the world of the man known as “Charisma,” professional Wrestler Kasai Jun of the independent promotion Pro Wrestling Freedoms.

In November of 2009, he had a “razorblade board plus alpha deathmatch” against Ito Ryuji in Tokyo’s Korakuen Hall. Kasai, 35 years old at the time, dove from the second floor balcony, a fall of 6 meters, onto a table, aiming for his opponent Ito.

Afterwards they continued to fight with various weapons, in a match that concluded 15 seconds before the 30 minute time limit. That year, this match was awarded the Best Bout award. And Kasai, the winner of that match, became a living legend overnight.

12 years have passed since then. Kasai is now 47 years old, and he continues to rule over the world of deathmatch wrestling. Under the weight of many literal life-or-death battles, Kasai’s body no longer moves the way it did when he was young. Even so, why does he continue to set foot in such a dangerous place?

We asked “Charisma of Deathmatch” - a man who makes the crowd go mad in the space between life and death - about his views on death and on life.

Desiring to truly feel alive

- Normally, people try to avoid pain and suffering. Kasai, why do you continue to shed blood in the ring?

Hahaha. From an outside perspective, you must really wonder “Why do you keep doing something so painful” huh? That’s a normal way to feel. But from the wrestler’s perspective, it’s completely different.

In your normal daily life, do you ever feel like “Ahh, it’s so glorious to be alive”? You’d almost never unconsciously blurt out something like that.

But in a life or death battle in a deathmatch ring, after you step down from that ring, that’s exactly what you feel. “Ahh, I’m alive. I’m so grateful to be alive.” Because of that, I can’t quit.

Mountain climbers and stuntmen probably feel like this too, don’t they. Stepping into a situation where their life could end, and returning home safely. I wonder if they’re searching for that feeling of being “truly alive.”

This feeling is passed on to the audience too. Fans often tell me “Watching Kasai Jun’s deathmatch gives me the strength to continue forward.”

They say things like, “I’m being bullied at school so I wasn’t going to go any more, but now I feel like I can keep going.” Or, “It’s exhausting to keep going to work, but after seeing Kasai persevere while shedding blood in the ring, I can persevere and keep going to work.”

Recently I can’t do this much because of covid, but in the past when I’d sell merch, fans would often say things like this to me.

Because of this, it seems to me that deathmatch wrestling is simultaneously a way for wrestlers to feel truly alive, and a way for those who watch it to feel more positively about living.

- Because of the sensational way “death” is shown in the ring?

Probably, yeah. Because it looks like we’re doing something really painful.

But don’t get me wrong. We aren’t in a particular hurry to die. And we aren’t wasting our lives either. What I always say is, “It’s not a deathmatch until you return alive.”

[Note from me - this phrase (生きて帰るまでがデスマッチ) is a play on a well-known Japanese phrase 家に帰るまでが遠足 “The field trip isn’t over until we return home.” This started as something a teacher would say to students in their care, and Kasai has altered it into his motto towards both himself and other deathmatch wrestlers.]

- It’s not a deathmatch until you return alive.

If you get in a ring where you might die or get seriously injured, and you do die, or you do get seriously injured, you’re no different than a rank amateur, right? But a guy who dives into a deadly dangerous situation and returns from that ring unharmed, he’s the absolute greatest and the absolute coolest.

Like a stuntman, right? If he returns home alive, people say “amazing,” but if he dies, he’s no longer a pro.

At 35 years old, his view on life did a complete 180 during a match

But, when I was young, I thought about it completely differently. I never thought “I’m grateful to be alive.” In the ring, I did dangerous stuff and defeated my opponents. I just thought of it as my job.

The more dangerous stuff I did, the more people said “Kasai is amazing!” That felt really great. Every time I stepped into the right I thought, if something goes wrong and I die I guess that’s how it goes. I thought “Deathmatches should be a memento mori.”

- What caused such a big change in your values?

That match against Ito Ryuji in Korakuen, in 2009. It changed my mental state by 180 degrees.

The truth is, I went into that match thinking “This is my last match before I retire.” Because it was my last match, I would do everything I wanted to do. Win or lose, I went into the ring thinking “I’ll retire.”

But during the match, my feelings completely changed. I thought “If I quit like this, I’ll be half-dead.” There’s nothing else I want to do, and I’ve never felt joy like this anywhere else. It was just too much fun.

So, after the match ended with 15 seconds remaining, I announced my decision to continue wrestling. “I was thinking of retiring but, I’m gonna keep going.” That’s what changed.

- Since your values have changed so significantly from when you thought it’d be good to die in the ring, what’s your “ideal death” now?

Spending the day with my family as I always do, watching tv with an after-dinner drink as I always do, getting comfy in my futon as I always do, and passing away. That’s the best death, isn’t it.

I’ve said it before but, people who say “It’s my ambition to die in the ring” are just trying to look cool. For a pro, it all comes down to returning home alive. And so, I believe that when the life of Kasai Jun the human being comes to an end, Kasai Jun the wrestler will die as well. I want to be a pro wrestler until I die. That’s how I feel now.

When I was young, I thought the best time for a wrestler to retire was when he could still move, when people would say “It’s a shame, because there’s still more he can do.” But if that’s true, I’ve already missed my best time to retire.

Since I’ve come this far, maybe it’s better to keep doing this until my death. Since around the time I turned 40, I started thinking this way.

Gaining years = leveling up. I’ll reach my peak just before death.

- Since you’ve been doing this for so long, it’s inevitable that your body has become weaker. Kasai, how have you dealt with aging?

The word “elderly” is a concept created by human beings, isn’t it? Since that’s the case, I believe it’s something we can absolutely overcome. I don’t think increasing in age is the same as becoming elderly.

Look, it’s true that my physical stamina has decreased and my muscles have gotten weaker than they were when I was younger. But my will and my spirit have continued to grow. Instead of just breaking even, I think I’ve leveled up. 47 years old is level 47. I now see growing older as a positive, like leveling up every year.

Because of that, my peak has yet to come. I’ll reach my peak just before I die. I’ll be at my strongest just before my death. That’s the ideal I envision for myself.

There was a time when I felt insecure about my age. When I hit my mid 30s, I hated that my body was becoming weaker.

But then, while drinking at home and watching a documentary on TV about (rock musician) Yazawa Eikichi, I realized something. “If you think about it, uncool young people are uncool, and cool guys are cool even if they’re old.” Since then, my way of thinking changed. I started calling getting older “leveling up” at around that time.

[Note from me: Suzuki Minoru also refers to getting one year older as “leveling up” in the exact same way. They are friends, so I assume Suzuki got it from Kasai.]

- I'm surprised that a pro athlete who uses his body as a weapon would think of aging in that way.

Pro wrestling and deathmatch are unique among sports. Unlike say, track and field, or swimming, it isn’t a competition where every second counts. I can’t move the way I could when I was young any more, but through my facial expressions, pauses during matches, and so on, I have many ways to express myself.

A guy can be handsome, macho, with great muscles, and completely suck as a wrestler. In contrast, a guy like me who’s ugly, short, and middle-aged, can get support from the fans. It’s a completely different genre, and that’s what makes pro wrestling so interesting.

- What about your emotional struggles? In your documentary film you said you were having some difficulty maintaining your motivation, which you described as “Deathmatch Erectile Dysfunction”

Yeah, well, that can definitely be a problem. When you’re young, you’ve just got piles of hopes and dreams and things you want to do. But as the years go on, and as you accomplish those things, you can kind of get lost.

What’s helped me increase my motivation has been the existence of people who make me think “I absolutely don’t wanna lose to this guy” or “I don’t want this guy to take all the best stuff for himself” In my case, for example, that’s been (fellow PW Freedoms deathmatch wrestler) Takeda Masashi. Or, although he’s from another organization, New Japan Pro Wrestling’s El Desperado.

That’s why for the past 3 or 4 years, I’ve been asking people to “stimulate me.” I want intimidating people to keep approaching me. Well, on the other hand, if they take the most delicious part for themselves, that’s a problem.

A fear of death led to a “selfish life”

- Incidentally, perhaps it’s too late at this point, but do you worry about being injured or dying?

I said it already but, “It’s not a deathmatch until you return alive.” Since I’m a pro, I have the skills required to do this without death or injury.

But, it’d be a lie to say “I’m not afraid.” Even now, for several days before a match I get so stressed that I can’t sleep. Despite how I look, I get plenty scared. Much of my life has been driven by a strong fear of death.

- How do you mean?

It sounds silly, but when I was in grade school I believed in “The Prophecies of Nostradamus.” Have you ever heard of it? “In the year 1999, all of humanity will be destroyed.” Every night I shook with fear in my futon, thinking that my life would end at the age of 24.

Propelled by that fear, I concluded, “If the earth is gonna get destroyed anyway, I should quit studying. Instead I should use the rest of my remaining lifetime to do stuff that I like.” I completely quit studying, and instead spent all my time watching pro wrestling, which I loved.

Conversely, my fear of death also led me to become a pro wrestler. After graduating high school, I got a job in Tokyo as a security guard, but I gave into temptation and visited brothels daily. One day I happened to be reading a magazine with an HIV checklist inside, and almost every item applied to me.

At that time, I still thought “AIDS = death” so I thought “Oh, this is AIDS.” “Oh, this is how I’ll die.”

Luckily, when I got tested the result was negative, but after preparing myself for death, I thought “I really should do what I want” and knocked on the door of Big Japan Pro Wrestling. My life has always been influenced in this way.

- I get the impression that many wrestlers die at an early age. Since then, your fear must have increased.

Nah, that’s not really true. I’m surprisingly practical about the deaths of others. I just accept it, like “That’s the kind of life you lived.” I suspect my fear of death isn’t a fear of death itself, but a fear of becoming nothing.

- A fear of becoming nothing.

I’m no (actor and spiritualist) Tanba Tetsuro, but if after you die, you go to the spirit world, and cross the Sanzu river, that’s not all that scary is it? I wouldn’t go so far as to say “it’s fine if I die” but there’s some kind of hope or meaning. But if “After death, you become complete nothingness” “After death you feel no joy or sadness” I think that’s really scary.

But these days, I don’t experience that fear of death as much as I used to. If after this interview a dump truck hits me and I die, I wouldn’t have any regrets. I could say I did what I wanted to do.

Pro wrestling is a business where you depend on your popularity with an audience, but I’ve never tried to flatter the audience to get sales or support, or thought about how to increase my popularity. Ultimately, Kasai Jun puts himself first. I’m my own number one.

To die without regrets is to win at life

- But, if someone wanted to imitate your way of life, I think most people would be profoundly afraid of not getting by financially, or of being rejected by society. Why do you think you remain stoic in the face of such fears?

What’s there worth imitating about me? If you’re selfish like me and you can change it, you should want to!

But, this is probably related to that “fear of becoming nothing” I mentioned earlier. Ever since I was little, I’ve thought stuff like “This whole world isn’t real” and “Maybe all of this is just a dream.”

Nothing in this world is certain. Since that’s the case, all you have are your own body and your own feelings. In short, I don’t believe in anything but myself, so I put myself first.

- So in order to “feel truly alive” you throw yourself into the painful world of deathmatch wrestling, which leads us back to where we started.

That’s right. I guess you could say that pain is the only thing I believe.

But when I was young, I did understand the fear of not making enough money to survive. When I was around 30 and my son had just been born, I was seized by that fear.

Really, I was broke, and I couldn’t even pay into the National Pension Fund like I was supposed to, so I went to the ward office and said “I do intend to pay, so please wait a little.” I thought to myself, “Living is so expensive and so difficult.”

- A deathmatch fighter scary enough to quiet a crying child, with such an everyday problem.

Three years after my debut, when I was around 27, I was badly injured. I quit Big Japan, and after a year’s absence, I transferred to a different group called Zero-One.

Zero-One was founded by ex-New Japan Pro Wrestler Hashimoto Shinya, and the pay was good compared to Big Japan, and they held a lot of shows, so I could wrestle frequently. The environment there was very pleasant.

But, due to the policy of the organization, I couldn’t do the deathmatches that I love. During that time as a “salaryman wrestler,” I survived, but I think deathmatch fighter Kasai Jun, pro wrestler Kasai Jun, was completely dead.

“I really should do the pro wrestling I want to do,” I thought, and I quit Zero-One, and persisted with the pro wrestling that I love. Maybe that’s why I feel like I can now “die without regrets.”

Ultimately, if you live your own life as you wish, and think “I have no regrets” when you die, you win. Maybe people today have lost sight of the essence of what it means to live. It’s fine to work hard at your job, but if you’re spending every day miserably, is that kind of life really okay with you?

I’d rather live for 20 years and laugh every day than live for 100 years and never smile. If you’ve lived for 100 years and never laughed, that’s the same as being dead, isn’t it?

写真：本永創太 ~ Photographer: Motonaga Souta

執筆：鈴木陸夫 ~ Author: Suzuki Atsuo

編集：日向コイケ（Huuuu）~ Editor: Hinata Koike (Huuuu)

#kasai jun #jun kasai #pw freedoms #pro wrestling #deathmatch #my translation #This is definitely the longest thing I have ever attempted to translate!#I've got nobody checking over my work or anything like that so as always apologies for any typos or errors that I didn't catch

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