#shota x male reader

[eightballspins]

what being pharmony's seventh (favorite) member would be like⁷ㅤ

-> p1harmony x seventh member! male reader -> can be read as platonic or romantic, i tried keeping it ambiguous and balanced in this aspect

warning : some members refer to you with honorifics (hyung) so if that makes you uncomfortable then ... scadattle idk + i made you in between the hyung line and maknae line (so younger than keeho, theo, and jiung, but older than intak, soul, and jongseob) + not proof read !! i will edit in the morning, im knocking out rnnnn

rating : mushy fluff, some get sentimental but for the most part it's really just

a/n: ive been cooking this one for a long time guys !! also the reader is said to speak english well, but i don't think...that's a huge concern bc...but wanted to make note of that before you read on lol (even though its only mentioned a handful of times) + i want to lowkey make this a series !!! not a continous storyline-esque series, but installments of the same reader with piwon, if that makes sense...

wc : 14k+...idk i guess that each members individual headcanons are ??? 2-3k+ long...anyway....

yoon keeho — the relationship you’d have with keeho would be a mix of how he treats soul and intak. you guys had trained together for a very long, long time, but he still is always looking out for you and has you in the forefront of his mind. he worries about you a lot because you have been putting a lot of pressure on yourself since pre-debut and he’s really perceptive when it comes to you. he doesn’t baby you, though, because you guys aren’t that different in age, but he does check in with you in his own special ways.

the season of work that was preparing for overseas schedules and tours was always the most gruelling. it was much more demanding than simply promoting domestically since it involved remembering new things like choreography, positioning, and cues, which almost always changed slightly with each stop.

it was late now and there were barely any people left in the building to practice, but you were still working hard in trying to keep up with all the changes. just as you were about to start the music to one of the tracks, the door behind you had opened up and keeho was standing there with a not surprised look on his face.

“i knew you’d be here,” he said simply, “why aren’t you back to the dorm already?”

“i still need to practice some more, the tour starts soon,” is the simple explanation and keeho hums in understanding, closing the door behind him and pulling out a chair that was nearby. “what are you doing here?”

“keeping you company,” he says quickly, moving over to plug his phone into the wall and then watching you with his arms crossed over his chest, “after you’re done, we can walk back together too,”

“how did you know i was in this room?”

“[name], you’re the only one still here it was very easy to find you,” he chuckles, spreading his legs and rubbing his eyes as he got more comfortable in his chair. “why do you always have to overdo it when tour is about to start?”

“i just want to make sure i have it down,” you sigh, already knowing the direction this conversation was going.

“okay, then practice for only a couple more minutes and then let’s go home,” he proposes, pointing to the clock in the corner, “it’s way too late and if you really want to make your performance the best, getting good rest is the most important.”

“fine, fine,” you wave him off, going back into positioning and getting ready for the music to start.

you run through the choreography a couple more times without keeho inserting himself, simply watching with tired eyes as you worked. the practicing came to an end about half an hour later and he looked thankful you were finally calling it wraps.

as he waited before, he was scrolling through his phone aimlessly, occasionally filming you without you being aware, and when you stood in front of him to leave, he excitedly locked his phone and cheered.

an arm came around your sweaty neck and shoulders, as well as his hand rubbing your stomach, “our [name] always working so hard,” he compliments, making you fight against his hold — out of uncomfortableness of how the sensation of his skin against your sweaty one felt. but his grip was tight and he even smooshed your cheeks together in his excitement.

“let’s eat some good food at the dorm, for you to recharge,” he comments, turning off the lights on your way out and shutting the door behind you two.

“what good food? the leftovers from last week?”

“if that’s what we have, then that’s what we have,” he sighs, trying to remember what was in the fridge.

“i can also just make a protein drink for dinner, we can share it,”

he looks at you disgusted before saying, “we are not having a protein shake for dinner — minus the fact that’s just not healthy, they’re disgusting so, no. we will eat the leftovers,”

you laugh at his definitive tone and facial expressions, accepting his proposal and walking out of the building side by side.

— keeho is really sweet and understanding with you, but does tend to put his foot down and become more stern when it regards you and your health habits. he is always the first one to remind you when to take breaks and go easy on yourself, but won’t force you to do anything that he says. if he suggests you take a break, but you don’t want to, he’ll wait on the sidelines for you to tire out and then guide you back to the dorm. his method of doing this actually proves to be really effective as it leads you to take more breaks because no one is actively forcing them on you which makes them more appealing (if that makes sense).

— he’s also really touchy with you, as he is with all the members. the thing with you is that you really welcome it. you’ve understood since you were trainees that one of keeho’s biggest habits is that he loves being in physical contact and close with those he cares about most. and he cares about you very deeply. back when you were still trainees, he’d often find himself sharing your bed with you since he didn’t want to be alone and wanted someone to be near. even now after debut, it’s still the same sentiment of: wanting to always have someone in his corner that he can express outward affection with as a means of self-comfort.

“[name], come here,” keeho calls, waving his hand to you in a hither motion with his phone propped up in his other. the entire group was waiting in the green room for their next direction of the music show. but seeing as it was just a waiting time, everyone was doing their own thing. keeho was watching a video on youtube, but wanted someone near as he did so, which is why he called you.

approaching with your own phone in hand, you didn’t even look up as you sat beside him and let his arm fall on your shoulders.

“what are you watching?”

“i forgot how to get the hidden move, so i have to watch a youtube tutorial,” you complain, an exasperated sigh leaving your lips.

“wah, gamer boy,” he says in english, making you weakly slap his stomach. he doesn’t even flinch, merely laughing as he continues to watch whatever was on his own screen. the hand on your shoulder stays in position, occasionally squeezing you for no apparent reason.

simple touches and actions like this summarize the way keeho shows affection with you. sometimes it’s grand actions like a kiss on the cheek (something especially grand when he does it in public settings) or big, tight hugs in private, but either way: keeho is going to be showing affection to you one way or another, public or private.

the setting doesn’t really deter him because he feels like, if he wants to show affection with you the place doesn’t really matter. even if you’re standing at a fanmeeting and he’s feeling more expressive at that time, he will go over to you and just absolutely smother you. the fans can coo and “aw” all they want, some will probably think it’s purposeful fanservice, but to keeho it’s just him wanting to show you affection.

keeho leans into your ear from his position on your back (he was hugging you from the back) and whispers, “do you want to go to the cafe afterwards?” making you smile and nod, turning to look at him as you answer.

considering how close he was to you, this made your face inches apart and something that was worthy of fans screaming over. but it didn’t faze you two as you casually carried on, “the one near the dorm? will you buy me the cheese danish?”

keeho chuckles, squeezing your cheeks together and bumping his forehead with yours. he stands upright and slightly backs away from you, “yeah, let’s go,” since that phrase wasn’t whispered, the fans were going crazy over the part of the conversation they could hear and their curiousity was high.

“where? go where?”

“keeho, where are you taking [name]?”

“we’re running away together,” keeho jokes, sticking his tongue out as he pretends to drag you away.

”where are you going?”

“nowhere!” you say in a sing song voice, obviously teasing the crowd.

the playful banter riles them up, making everyone hyperfocus on you two until one of the other members does something that steals all their attention.

lucky fans that had seen you two at the cafe had went onto social media and teased: “this is where keeho meant when he said they were running away together, so adorable” with a picture of you two standing in line, standing close to one another. there was then a selca the fan had taken with the two of you attached beside it, making other p1ece envious of how lucky the girl was.

“were they are seriously that close the whole time? they’re so clingy with each other T.T” to which the original poster responded, “they really were — their chemistry is real, guys. the whole reason i recognized them was because i saw them standing in line and thought, wow, keeho also holds onto [name] as tight as this man does. keeho really doesn’t want him going anywhere, it’s cute!”

the affection-ridden and patient relationship that keeho and you share is one of the favorite dynamics for p1ece to see since it’s a refreshing one. seeing the two of you be most comfortable with each other, no matter where you are, makes them feel happy to witness such a pure form of trust and adoration.

choi taeyang — theo is a guy that’s super big on teasing, he makes a lot of jokes based off of teasing and they usually end up with everyone in the room laughing. what’s something interesting that has been noticed by some staff as well as p1ece is that, taeyang tries especially hard in making people laugh and uplifting the mood when you are there or nearby. there have been many instances of people editing theo’s eyes watching you the moment he makes a joke, an expecting look on his face that gets washed with relief and achievement when he sees that you do end up laughing. taeyang finds that his relationship with you is really, really fun and full of laughter, which he intends to keep that way for as long as possible.

you guys were filming for another installment of your variety show; saessak harmony and you and theo were placed to be on the same team for the “guess the kpop song” challenge. towels were wrapped around your heads as you continued on playing and eating, at the same time.

theo, keeho, soul, and you were all placed on the same team against jiung, intak, and jongseob. thankfully, keeho was very good at the game and was scoring the majority of your points, allowing the rest of the team to be more relaxed. you were sitting in between soul and theo, watching with a grin as keeho scored another point for your team.

“yah, [name], look,” theo whispers, showing you the egg that was in his hand. you watch in interest, then burst out laughing at his sudden action. it caught the attention of the rest of the group, but you were too busy falling into theo’s neck to even properly notice. he put his arm around you as you laughed together, almost completely collapsing backwards in your laughing fit.

“what? what? what?” jiung asked, wanting to know what was so hilarious, as well as everyone else in the group too.

theo was too busy holding onto your body to stop it from hitting the ground to properly answer while you were too occupied with laughing.

”these two are always interrupting filming,” intak accused, “please spray them with water as punishment,” he cheekily requested, everyone bursting out in laughter as they saw that the staff had actually sprayed the two of you with the water gun.

now you and theo were a mess on the floor, holding onto each other as you were relentlessly attacked with water from the staff.

“what even was so funny?” keeho asked once everyone had settled down more, making you wave off his question and insist on moving on to continue on the challenge.

— taeyang really values spending free time with you, he likes to just be in your presence. even if you guys aren’t doing anything particularly interesting, just being with you is enough for him. he doesn’t really enjoy going out the most, but he won’t deny going out with you — unless he really isn’t up for it. but most of the time, for convenience sake, you two are staying indoors. you two will rest in the same bed together, but not speak a work to one another. and it’s comfortable that way, which he can appreciate. he doesn’t always need high energy level atmospheres surrounding him and you really do help calm him down, just by being near so he likes monopolizing on that.

— one of the things that theo has picked up nowadays is learning the guitar. and he has proper lessons with his teacher very often, but the person he wants to show off his newly acquired skills to the most is you. when it comes to things that taeyang is proud of, he likes to show them off to you first. because he knows it’s always a judgement free zone (not that it wouldn’t be with the other members, it’s just having you be the only one watching and complimenting him is what he desires most). he loves hearing all the impressed sounds you make and curious questions you ask him, even if he himself is a pretty beginner level player. he’ll pretend as if he has all the answers to impress you further.

“play me your favorite song on the guitar,” you request, sinking into the mini couch that was in the studio.

“i don’t know how to yet,” he truthfully admits, plugging the guitar into the amp and rolling the chair closer to you, “i’ll play you a snippet of what i’m learning now though, for our solo performance. it sounds pretty,” he comments, looking at you and smiling at the way your eyes lit up at the mention of his solo song.

the strings are strummed lightly and taeyang is depending on no one but himself to not mess up and embarrass himself in front of you. there are a couple of times he mistakes a string for another and strikes it by accident, but each time that happens you don’t seem to notice or you ignore it on purpose. he smiles at your amazed expression, finishing the song with a sigh and awaiting your feedback.

“that was amazing, taeyang,” you compliment, smiling so brightly and genuinely at him that he feels a blush crawl onto his face.

“it wasn’t much, but i’ve been working hard on it to make it sound perfect,” he admits, making you even more eager in complimenting him.

“it was so good, you’ll be in perfect shape by the time the tour starts,” you add in, making him put his hood up as a weak attempt in hiding his face from you. you tease him, putting your hand beneath the hood and affectionately rub the top of his hair. “a true rockstar, huh?”

he weakly swats your hand away, grabbing your wrist after you try evading him and putting it down to rest on his leg.

”i can teach you? it’s really simple, you’ll get the hang of it really fast,” he offers, keeping your wrist enclosed in his hand as he rubs the skin gently, “c’mon, let me teach you,”

making the easy decision of accepting, you welcome the guitar into your lap and theo into the seat next to you. for longer than you two realized, you were in the studio by yourselves learning the chords to the song “until i found you.” occasionally, he would tease you for your below beginner level guitar skills, but for the most part he wsas genuinely teaching you and hoping you’d learnt his song.

“maybe we can do a duet on stage,” you joke, but theo doesn’t actually seem to mind it. he brushes your hair out of your face and behind your ear, a kind smile on his lips as he nods in agreement.

— theo is really gentle and caring with you, in the physical sense. he doesn’t show as much affection as keeho (that’d be hard), but he does show that he cares and is always looking out for you in other ways. there have been compilations made online of all the subtle things theo does to look out for you and p1ece gush over it constantly. neither of you know of these videos existence, but if theo ever did become aware of it, he’d definitely blush in embarrassment of being found out + seeing his actions be made aware to everyone.

“did you see the way theo covers the corner of the table? something tells me that if it were anyone else he would’ve loved to see the member lightly hit their head lollol”

→ “he always has had a soft spot for [name]”

“here theo goes again protecting his [name]! so cute”

→ “the arm that never leaves [name]’s waist! an infamous and familiar sight”

“anyone else notice how theo always is closest to [name] when they go anywhere public? like the airport or in overseas schedules, he’s always right next to [name] T.T so cute”

— taeyang wants to make you laugh, wants your hardest laughs to be with him and wants to always make you feel the most safe and secure. maybe it’s because you were the first one to truly welcome him to the company when he first became a trainee or for another reason. but in the end, he’s always having his eye on you. he’s very aware and keen when it comes to you, coming first to your defense in any situation as well as being the person to make you laugh the most too. he’s a real sweetheart and gentleman when it comes to you and it’s painfully obvious.

choi jiung — he is someone who is very explicitly proud of you and shows it in all sorts of ways. he’s always grinning so wide whenever you are speaking at public events because he’s that proud, whenever you have a highlight point in a performance, he’s watching you with a giant grin. at their concerts and shows, he’s always hovering around you with a smile and fond look in his eyes. a lot of people have pointed this out too because of how often jiung is caught cheesing at you, but the man cannot and will not ever stop. you two have trained together for a really long time so whenever you stand on your own, he just can’t help but think of all those times when you were trainees working hard together and smile at how far everyone has come, but especially you.

the two of you were on a weverse live, sitting down and eating some food the staff had prepared for you. the other members were either occupied or doing their own activities, meaning you and jiung were the only ones that p1ece were going to be seeing today. your seats were close to each other, your thighs underneath the table and out of vision from the camera, were touching and rocking against the other.

“here, here,” jiung says, bringing a piece of dessert up from the plate and ready to spoon feed it to you. obeying, eyes zeroed in on the treat, you dropped your jaw and closed in around his fork. “it’s good, right?”

you hummed in confirmation, jiung already getting another forkful to feed you again.

“i’m not sure what this is,” you answered, reading the chat and trying to get to as many comments as possible, “but it’s super yummy,”

“very light,” jiung adds in, turning to face the camera after feeding you the second piece. he puts his fork down and also commits to reading more comments, “so cute? well, it’s only cute because [name] is cute,” he pinches your cheek, which you allow while staring deadpan at the camera, “our cute [name],” he coos, laughing at the unimpressed expression on your face.

“he doesn’t like being called cute then,” jiung finalizes, dropping his hand from your cheek and holding yours underneath the table.

“being called cute is fine, just don’t rip my cheeks off while you do,” you scold, pinching his thigh lightly.

“alright, alright,” he appeases, leaning forward and reading more comments, “what are you two doing now? just talking and eating, very calm,” he then turns to you, “do you want to go to the studio?”

you nod, “it’s more comfortable to be set up there,” jiung grabs the stand that the camera was on and hoists it up while you clean up as much as possible before abandoning the room to go to jiung’s private studio.

”p1ece, what have you guys been up to lately? i feel like we haven’t talk in a long time,” jiung makes small talk with the fans, who eagerly respond and hope to be noticed by him. he waits by the door for you to join his side, standing sideways as he watches you. “me and [name] have been working hard for you all, there is a lot that we have planned for you all. [name] has been working so hard on his vocals and we honestly will probably work more after we end the live.” he reads the flying comments, before turning to you and smiling to see that you were done cleaning up.

“it’s always fun to work with [name] because he has such a good voice,” jiung compliments, making you wave your hand in dismission. he pets your head rather aggressively, making your head bop up and down as you walk to the studio, “everyone should compliment [name] right now,”

“that’s too much!” you exclaim, slapping his hand away and pretending to glare at him.

jiung only grins and moves the camera closer to your face, “isn’t he just so cute when he makes that face?”

— jiung values his alone time sooooo much, whenever there is a chance to be alone, he will take it and is content in knowing that all the members respect that precious time for him. but once he has enough of being alone and feels energized, the first person he will look for, is you. it’s cute, how he’ll return to the dorms after spending the whole day by himself on his own little adventures, and the first thing that leaves his lips is your name. when you finally do reunite, he will grin so wide his eyes turn into crescents.

jiung looked down at his phone, a small pout on his lips as he typed back.

“do you need anything while youre in the studio jiji?”

the affectionate nickname warmed his heart and he quickly typed back, not wanting to leave you waiting long.

“no, it’s okay, i’ll see u back at the dorm later :)”

“okkk <3 get back safe”

and that was the end of the conversation.

jiung was so relieved that you were understanding of him and his alone time, it was really something he craved and needed. especially with how hectic the schedules have been, it’s been nothing but work on top of work. and he needed to take personal breathers more often than not. everyone had known each other long enough to not feel offended by his need for personal space, too, which was another big relief.

he spent a couple more hours at the studio, jumping in between personal work and anything regarding their next release. when he was done, he stopped by the 24 hour convenience store and got both him and you a bag of your favorite snacks. he chuckled, walking out of the store knowing that the other members were going to say something about it when they’d find out. right now, they were definitely already sleeping. you were always the only one awake to greet him when he’d come back, as well as any other member that would come home later than usual.

he stopped to his dorm first, changing into comfortable clothes and freshening up before walking down to yours. it was only a couple of doors down and he entered the pin, trying to keep quiet to not interrupt anyone else’s sleep. the moment he walked in, he saw you sitting on the couch and watching a random youtube video.

“[name],” he called out to you, his signature toothy grin on his face. seeing you also in your comfortable pajamas made him smile, enjoying the sight of you all cozied up and relaxed.

”welcome home,” you jokingly greeted, bounding over to him with a smile.

“thank you,” he said quietly, walking over to the kitchen table and putting the snacks down.

“ah, you should’ve told me you were bringing some over, i already brushed my teeth,” you whined, seeing your favorite snack waiting for you. he apologized with a smile on his face, but you weren’t seriously annoyed with him so you just waved him off.

”are you sleeping over tonight?” you ask, walking back to the couch with a bottle of water and tapping the empty space near you, “or are you just stopping by?”

“probably just stopping by,” he shrugs, taking the seat next to you. you hum in response, scratching your eye and fighting back a yawn.

silence soon filled the living room as you kept watching the tv and he mindlessly scrolled on his phone. when he heard you lightly snoring, though, he looked up and smiled at your sleeping form. he set his phone down and carefully got up from the couch to get you more comfortable. he wasn’t going to try carrying you to bed, in fear of waking you up. instead, he scooted your torso down to properly rest on the cushions, so you wouldn’t wake up with back pain. he adjusted the pillow you were using, as well as the blanket covering you. he tucked it in neatly, brushing your hair aside a couple of times as he was smiling softly at you.

“goodnight, [name],” he whispered, patting your head before backing away. he picked up his phone from the table and pocketed it, about to be let himself out and go back to his own dorm. he grabbed the remote, ready to turn off the tv, but stopped when he saw what was playing. he almost laughed too loud, covering his mouth as he watched the otters on the screen play in the water.

were you seriously watching otter videos this entire time?

he lowered the volume, deciding to take a seat and understand what the appeal was. he moved your legs to be on top of his lap, gently moving his hand up and down as he was now completely focused on the television.

the next morning, jongseob woke up to jiung resting his head on your hip and practically cuddling your legs as his feet hung off the end of the couch. he just shook his head and walked over to the kitchen, not too unfamiliar with the habit jiung has of sleeping over. he sees the snacks on the kitchen counter, purposely dodges yours and takes what would have been jiungs’.

other than that, he leaves the two of you to be alone, going back to his own room to rest in bed for a little longer.

— whenever you go out overseas for tour or any other activities, he prefers to spend the free time with you. unfortunately, everyone else also wants to spend time with you, so the compromise is late nights are reserved for the two of you. whether it’s just a quick walk around the block or standing out on the balcony together, jiung likes to explore new places with you, and talk about them. he doesn’t like getting overtly sentimental, so the conversations are usually mindless and comfortable. but internally, he thinks about how grateful he is to have you as such a close companion. as his journey as a trainee, you have probably known him the longest, with intak as a close runner up. he thinks that getting to see new sights and places with you is a true blessing and he hopes the two of you never let this tradition of exploring together go away. it’s something he really looks forward to every time you’re overseas.

— jiung tends to get really competitive when it comes to playing games or anything else remotely team based, usually as seen on their variety shows. but if you’re on the same team as him or the one guilty of ruining his chances of winning, he tries to keep that part of himself in check. the reason is because he’s worried of possibly scaring you or just turning you off from his behavior. now, you’ve seen him get competitive — duh, you’ve known each other for so long and it’s honestly funny to see him get so invested in a simple, childish game. but never has this behavior been targeted to you. and that’s purposeful. he doesn’t want to yell at you, ever, even if it’s just in a game setting where everyone is laughing and having a good time. it just rubs him off the wrong way. every time he thinks of the possibility of him yelling at or raising his voice at you, it leaves a sour taste on his tongue.

“what?! wait! wait! wait! wait! he’s blocking me from getting the cards!” jiung shouts, unsure of who’s hand was in his way — so focused in on the game that he was tunnel visioning on what he needed to do in order to win. the game was intense, everyone was huddled around in a circle and trying their best to empty their hands out into each individual pile. but jiung had run into an obstacle when he was almost done and it was someone else’s hand getting in his way and leaving him behind in a two second time difference.

“blitz! i have no cards left!” keeho announces, doing a victory dance where he sat as he leaves the rest of you in sour moods at losing the round.

”c’mon! who was blocking me?! seriously! i was so close to getting blitz!” jiung shouts, scanning his eyes over everyone with a fiery look in his eyes as he tries to fish out who it was. but then you shoot your hand up and bashfully smile.

“sorry, jiji, i didn’t mean to…” your voice is trailing off, sensing how angry he was and awkwardly trying to save face.

but the moment he saw how meek you had gotten, he took a couple seconds to just breathe and calm down. everyone was waiting for him to explode, which he usually does and then quickly gets over a couple seconds after, but to their surprise, he just waved his hand.

“it’s okay, it’s okay, let’s keep going,” he says, collecting his cards and already getting set up, “but if it happens again, i’ll seriously-”

“it won’t, it won’t,” sensing his teasing tone, you don’t take his threat that serious and only smile and laugh it off as you also get ready for the next round.

everyone else just watches with confused and semi-annoyed looks on their face as you prove immune to jiung’s competitive rage. what a lucky guy you were, they all thought, remembering their own individual instances of jiung’s anger. at least once, everyone has experienced it. and it really isn’t that terrifying, but it was always a hassle of defending ones self against jiung’s stubbornness and bitterness.

but as the two of you just casually talked and smiled about the game, they just sigh and move on, not wanting to complain and ruin the atmosphere.

— jiung, who smiles the widest when you’re nearby. seeing you is enough to get him grinning, but there are certain things you do that he absolutely loves. when you’re focused on dance practice and you just tunnel vision on the instructor and show pure determination, he’s smiling to himself and whispering something to another member or idle camera about your hard efforts and how amazing you were. when you guys are filming for variety content for p1ece, and you spend time talking to the camera — giving special attention to the viewers, he smiles at how mindful and thoughtful you are. at concerts, when you’re free to interact with the crowd as much as you want and not have to worry about choreo, he’ll sometimes catch you doing something slightly embarrassing just to entertain p1ece and that leaves him with the biggest grin known to man. fully “:D” with his eyes crinkling and turning into crescents. next thing you know, you have jiung running over to you with his loud laughter and slapping your back repeatedly. when you’re in the studio, recording, and he’s in charge of directing you, he’s always smiling each time you look at him for feedback while you’re in the booth. no matter what he says, whether it be constructive criticism or words of affirmation, he’s delivering them with a kind, patient smile and loving look in his eyes.

— jiung just naturally sees the best in you. he always thinks highly of you and wishes everyone to do the same, treasuring you so much. it’s a mix of him verbally telling you this and him conveying his thoughts through emotions. he’s not the most affectionate, but he still has his own special ways of making you understand right where his heart lies with you (cough completely enamored by you cough). he is a happy guy as long as you’re near and he hopes that you also see him the same way, eager to make you joyful as well as comfortable. sometimes he’s obnoxiously annoying in singing praises your way, but he can’t help it! he just wants everyone to see you the way he sees you! aka the best.

hwang intak — the first member that is younger than you!! you’re the defining member that is smack dab in the middle of p1harmony in terms of age. one year younger than jiung, theo, and keeho, and one year older than intak, and three years older than soul and jongseob. but a one year difference isn’t the biggest deal in the world, which intak agrees with on most days, but on others, he completely flips opinions and its obvious. what that means is that: some days, intak will be eager to have casual conversation with you, craving that relationship that’s foundation is based on seeing one another equally, instead of a strict, formal type of dynamic. while on some other days, intak succumbs to wanting to completely rely on you as his hyung and, not baby him, but pay special attention to him.

— intak likes to involve you in every aspect of his life. there isn’t a secret that he can keep from you, not that he would want to. but he just has a habit of letting you into every detail, routine, and habit of his. it’s basically the definition of sharing is caring — but with everything. he truly does think it’s only right for him to share everything with you :’( he’s so sweet ill cry.

“hyung, do you need a pair of underwear? these just came out of the wash, they’re still warm!”

“no, thank you, tak, i have enough…?”

he asked the question out of nowhere and was completely unprompted in asking if you wanted a pair of his underwear.

—

“wait, can you tell me what you think of this choreo? let’s go after lunch?”

“sure, make sure you eat well if you’re going to be dancing a lot later, too,”

“yes, hyung,” he says with the cutest smile on his face, taking a huge bite of his food.

—

the whole group was waiting backstage for directions on when to go up on stage with the staff all bustling around them. they were doing last minute checks on everything to make sure it was working well, while the members were all trying to calm down and not get too nervous.

intak’s form of doing this is scrolling on his phone, before a staff member has to take it away for when they go up on stage, and watching any funny video that pops up on his feed. when he finds a particularly funny one, the first person he thinks of showing is you. he walks over to where you were talking with one of the stage managers, waiting (im)patiently with a smile on his face.

“what’s up, tak?” you ask, smiling at him, knowing that he probably had something on his phone to show you.

“watch this, please,” he says, trying to hold in his laughter as he thinks of the video he was showing you. he shoves the phone screen closer to your face and in a couple of seconds, you both are breaking out in laughter at the video.

“[name]! intak! come on, we’re gonna huddle,” keeho calls out to you, an unimpressed look on his face as he sees you two semi-goofing off.

a staff comes by swiftly and takes intak’s phone, allowing you two to join the rest of the group in the circle.

— intak always!!! matching your energy. he’ll always always always be there to match you and whatever mood you’re in, especially if he notices that no one else is keeping up with you. he always loves to do this because it makes you end up laughing so hard and/or having the most fun. he likes having those special moments with you because they feel like it’s just the two of you in the room.

it was a gruelling day of practice. everyone was scattered around the room, whether it be on the floor sprawled out like a star or on the chairs lining the corner, slumped over trying to catch their breath. everyone was tired and it was even more tiresome knowing that there was still a couple more hours of practice you all needed to commit to before being allowed to go home.

you were taking in the sight of everyone’s exhaustion, breathing heavily as you tried to think of ideas on how to boost their energy. it was currently that ten minute period where everyone could rest and catch their breath before the choreographers would get back to strict practice. and knowing that the time was almost up, you connected your phone to the surround speakers and played an energetic song.

“c’mon guys! only a couple more hours of practice!” you cheered, trying to get them optimistic, but the “couple more hours” part easily killed any type of optimism that could be in the room. you jumped to the beat of the music, trying to infect them with the same feeling, but they were all just looking at you unimpressed.

“[name], don’t strain yourself too much, we still have to dance more!” jiung tiredly said, waving his hand as if to bring you towards him, to hopefully calm you down. but you just shook your head, belting out the song lyrics that were playing and continuing to jump around.

in a couple of seconds, intak was joining you, head banging to the music and running around the room with you. he appreciates you trying to uplift everyone and didn’t want your efforts to go completely ignored and to waste. he starts joining in on your singing, purposefully off key, and laughing as you do when you hear how awful he sounded.

“how do they have so much energy…” theo sighs, looking at the two of you and just feeling even more exhausted.

the members are all silent as they watch you two goof off for the next couple of minutes, wishing they could join in on your guys’ fun, but feeling way too tired physically.

meanwhile, you and intak are running around the room and laughing your hearts off as the song continues on blaring through the room. the only reason you guys stop is due to the instructor cutting off the music and calling for practice to resume.

you two are panting and you appreciatively pinch his cheeks with how he kept up with you and your antics.

— another funny, unique thing intak likes to do with you is always interacting with p1ece with you. whether it be through weverse lives, at fansigns where he milks fanservice with you for them, or in any other form, he just likes displaying the close relationship you guys have with each other to p1ece. it’s almost as if he’s flexing — how comfortable and in-sync the two of you are with each other, how easily he understands you without you even having to say anything. they love it, anyway, and he loves to do it, so it really doesn’t hurt anyone.

intak walks over to you as you try putting on a costume that someone had gifted you. it was a simple outfit that you think was supposed to mimic turtwig, which p1ece knew as your favorite pokemon. there was a headband with a sprout, which was your representative emoji, and cute cloth shell that mimicked the pokemon’s that was supposed to be worn around your shoulders.

“this is cute,” intak comments, smiling at the costume with a fond look in his eyes. then suddenly, his eyes lit up and he reached further into the box and brought out a pokeball with a proud smile on his face, “hurry up and put it on so i can catch you,”

you laugh at his childish demand, but obey to play along with him. p1ece were watching and aweing at the scene, finding it to be wholesome with how excited intak was to act as a pokemon trainer and you as a turtwig.

when you were just finished putting on the costume, intak suddenly threw the ball in your direction — nailing you right in the face, and causing you to stumble backwards at the sudden impact. p1ece all gasped in shock while the other members began laughing, jiung and theo falling to their knees as you rubbed your cheek.

“what pokemon is gonna let such a rough trainer catch them?!” you joke, smacking intak’s hand away as he tried helping you up — the man himself laughing at the way he had unintentionally injured you.

“i’m sorry, sorry,” he says, but with how hard he was laughing it didn’t seem as though he was that sorry, “please, hyung, it was an accident, it was supposed to hit your chest! i swear!”

“whatever, whatever,” you rub your cheek, that wasn’t even hurting honetly, and shoot him a joking glare.

then, once again — out of nowhere, he grabs the other side of your cheek and pulls you towards him, planting a wet and sloppy kiss on your cheek. instantly, the flashes of the cameras are going off to capture the impromptu moment. you recoil simply because of the wet sensation and rub your cheek, a grimace on your face.

the others break out into another fit of laughter while intak childishly pouts at you, using terrible aegyo to beg for forgiveness. it’s obviously all an act, as well as an excuse to make you laugh, and it works because you’re both forgiving him and laughing with him in the next couple seconds.

”you’re such a bad trainer,” you comment into the microphone, looking to p1ece with an incredulous look on your face, “he’s the only one that can pull something like that off, seriously. because i know intak just wanted to make everyone laugh, so i’ll let it slide. the others don’t have good intentions like that!”

“what?!” keeho exclaims, exaggerating his offense at your comment while everyone in the room breaks out in laughter.

“you’re saying we don’t have good intentions or something?!” theo joins in, crossing his arms over his chest, “c’mere, let me throw the pokeball at your face too, to prove my good intentions!”

“see! that’s what i’m talking about guys!” you shout, running around the small stage to dodge theo’s reeled back arm that was now holding the same pokeball that had hit you in the face earlier.

all the while, intak is grinning ear to ear so hard his cheeks almost hurt, watching you with an obvious content look on his face.

—

“it’s only…” intak checks his phone that was on the table, then looks back up at the camera, “10PM, not that late,”

he’s by himself in the dance practice room, stretching in front of the camera as he watches the comments all roll in.

“’intak, what’s your lockscreen?’ how did you guys even see my lockscreen?” he laughs at the random question, playing with his phone in his lap, “oh, you just want to know?” he looks at the screen, deciding that it wasn’t even that bad to show. and the photo itself made him smile anyway, so he wanted to share it with p1ece for that reason as well.

“it’s a photo of me and [name]-hyung,” he says, turning the phone around and showing it to the camera, “i change it a lot, though, but this was from when we went out recently, late at night. there was a cool mirror, so we took a photo. and i liked it, so i use it as my lockscreen and homescreen,”

it was the type of “fish-eye” mirrors that were in conveinces stores so that the owner can see the entire store. the photo was a simple mirror selfie with you squeezing intak’s cheeks together as he took the photo, a smile on each of your faces.

“’so cute’, yes, we are, hyung is,” he laughs, turning his phone off and setting it aside, “’what’s his lockscreen?’ i don’t know…i don’t really look at it, but i think it’s just a picture of all of us, i think of our hands? i’m not sure, i’ll ask him when i see him and then let you guys know,” he smiles as he sees the comments affectionately talking about you two, mainly about how cute the photo was.

“’what’s your contact name for [name]?’ ah, didn’t he make the tiktok about it recently? it’s still the same as it was then, just ‘best hyung.’…what? why? why’s everyone saying that i should change it? change it to what?” he opens his phone and opens the messager app, scrolling up and down your contact information, “i think it’s cute though? he likes it too,”

he waits to see what people suggest, making an ‘o’ with his mouth as he continued reading, “oh, make it cuter or add an emoji? that’s what you guys meant! that’s not that bad of an idea, but i don’t know what i’d put…not a sprout, jongseobie already has that for him. how about…”

intak spends the next couple minutes rambling about you as well as answering any questions p1ece had about you, such as your whereabouts and what you were up to nowadays. intak is definitely the guy that would air out all your business to everyone, but in a fond, respectable way. obviously, he doesn’t tell them overly personal information or things he knows you wouldn’t want anyone knowing, it’s more-so, just the silly little things that he tells them.

— quick to take your side if there is ever a disagreement or fight that breaks out in the group. fights are common, but for little trivial things (you guys are bound to squabble every now and then, it’s inevitable). and intak doesn’t really mean to take your side, to show bias and favoritism, it’s just he has a really strong sense of loyalty and he always feels that same feeling from you, so he just reciprocates it. that loyalty of his makes him one of your reliable support systems and a trustworthy person to have if time ever get rough.

it was a pretty small thing to fight about, but everyone’s emotions were amped up because of recently stressful times. nothing harmful was exchanged between you and keeho when you were fighting, but you two did need some space to recollect and approach the situation with clearer minds.

you stormed out of the dorm, keeho staying behind and locking himself in his room. the members watched with wide eyes, sighing as they left the matter alone to not get too involved. besides, you and keeho were grown men that could talk this out when you were ready to, you didn’t need to be forced to apologize to each other, like you were kids or something.

and intak agrees with that. but he is concerned on where you would storm off to so late at night. which is why he ran after you, grabbing yours and his coat on his way out. thankfully, you didn’t get too far before he caught up with you. the walk to an empty park nearby was silent, intak knowing that he shouldn’t pester you for small chat as you were definitely not in the mood for it right now.

instead, he took a silent stance next to you as you gently swung back and forth on the swing seat.

“it’s just!” you suddenly exclaim, “we are all high strung right now, we’re all tired! i wish i had more control of how i handled the situation, but i just can’t always be so hyper aware of everything going on around me.” you sighed, hanging your head low as intak lent you an ear to listen to all of your worries. “i should go back and apologize,”

“hold on, let’s just stay here a little while longer. the both of you might need some space, even if it’s just for a couple more minutes,” intak says, speaking softly and gently. you understand where he’s coming from and, thankfully, agree, settling back onto the swing set.

“thanks for coming after me intak, you didn’t have to, i would’ve been fine,” you say quietly, reaching out and squeezing his hand in yours.

“it’s alright, i was just worried something might have happened if you were alone,” he explains, crouching down to take a seat on the mulch beside you, “are you feeling better?”

“yeah, i think i feel even better knowing that you were here, though. seriously, you didn’t have to,”

”i wanted to, though,” he shrugs, not finding it a big deal and thinking about how he would 100% run after you again if a similar situation ever arises in the future, “i’ll always be here, okay? so will everyone else,”

that makes you fondly pet his hair down as a soft thank you escapes your lips, again. intak’s heart is the kindest and his approach of tending to you and the members makes that obvious.

— intak who is extremely sensitive to your mood and energy because he’s known you for so long, the shifts of mood don’t catch him off guard. he’s rather in tune with them, as if they’re his own. and he likes to brag about this special connection that you two have, calling it the utmost unique one in the entire group. he makes it obvious to p1ece that he feels this way too, not shy in staking “claim” of being the person who knows you the best in the group. intak who would easily follow you to the ends of the earth because he trusts you that much and knows that if you two are in it together, it won’t be that bad. he just needs you and some good energy and he’ll be content for the rest of his life.

haku shota — (okay prefacing i have an extremely soft spot for seobsoul as the youngests in piwon and it will most definitely show in these hcs so please beware!!!) now that’s out of the way, you’re someone that soul can trust completely. he has the most trust and faith and abundance of love for you, he will easily follow whatever you say because he believes that you’d never lead him “astray.” he trusts you that much. is always looking at you for some sort of approval or confirmation before doing anything, especially when you guys first debuted. you were like a guiding light to him, and continue to be, when he was literally dropped into a foreign country with no guardian type of figure.

“they’re free?” shota asks intak, who was standing beside him. they were waiting at the front desk of the restaurant, waiting for the other members to come back from the bathroom. and as they were waiting, they noticed that there was a small basket of what seemed to be mints, as well as a sign above them. but since it was written in english, shota couldn’t properly decipher what it said. “where’s hyung?”

“still in the bathroom,” intak pouts, looking at the mints longingly.

“is there anything i can help you with?” the hostess asks, noticing their gazes set on the basket, smiling softly at them.

to not embarrass themselves, intak and shota simply shake their heads and step away, offering her a weak smile.

“you guys look so awkward,” your voice calls out to them, offering the lady a smile as you pass by before joining intak and shota, “what’s up with those looks on your faces?”

you find it comical how they’re standing like lost school boys, but your laughter is cut off when shota suddenly grabs ahold of your hand and squeezes tight. “huh? what is it?”

“are those candies for us to take?” he asks quietly, and although he’s speaking korean, it’s as if he’s scared the hostess is secretly bilingual and can understand what he’s saying. you read the mini sign and nod you head in confirmation.

“it’s say, please take one — so yeah, they’re free and for the guests after eating. you want one?” you ask politely, smiling as he nods immediately, intak speaking up behind him and wanting one for himself too. you walk up to the woman, smile at her again and try to not make it a big deal that you’re taking a handful of mints.

the other members would probably want ones for themselves too, was your logic. when you walked back to intak and shota, their eyes were sparkling as they saw the many mints in your palm. intak took it immediately and popped one in his mouth while shota just hummed in delight and sucked on it.

“thank you, hyung,” soul says, smiling as he grabs your free hand and swings it back and forth.

“of course, shota,” you say, ruffling his hair and then stepping off to the side to not be in anyone’s way as you wait for the other members.

—

“is it okay?” is a line shota says often with his eyes marked on you, making it obvious he’s seeking your approval for something. it was something that started when he was first a trainee with you guys, when he needed someone to guide him through a lot of things, and it has become a harmless habit ever since.

you’d never scold him for relying on you, in fact shota thinks you welcomed that part of his behavior with open arms, which he appreciates. you’re a really big comfort to him, your mere presence next to him helps calm him down.

— he will be really affectionate with you, similiar to keeho. just think about this man’s relationship with keeho, too!! like they’re attached to the hip. he claims the affection he shows you has a different intention when compared to keeho, but you don’t notice because: to you, affection is affection and it’s always welcome !! shota sometimes can’t express in words how much love and appreciation he has for you, or he is too lazy to or it just isn’t appropriate, so instead he’ll show it through actions.

“so, today, i’m working in the studio — as you can obviously see!” you’re on weverse live and it just started a couple minutes ago, so you were giving p1ece the update on what you were doing, “i don’t know what the other members are doing, but i think—”

your cut off when the door behind you opens out of nowhere and it’s a shota staring at you. he’s grinning ear to ear, but you wouldn’t know since he’s wearing a mask on his face. he steps forward, not paying attention to the camera propped up on your desk and only focusing in on you.

“ah, shota, say hi to p1ece,” he hums in response, making a random grunting noise as he stops by your side, making you laugh at his odd behavior. he grabs your cheeks with both his hands, smooshing your face together which only prompted more laughter from you. then he’s leaning down and pressing his lips to your forehead, the sensation odd due to the mask in between you two.

but you receive it nonetheless, thanking him loudly with laughter as he pulls away. he smiles, moving close once more to kiss scarily close to your mouth, right on the corner of your lips, but once again the barrier of the mask acts as the last resort safe guard.

”wow, that was close, shota,” you say, surprised at his bold behavior, “shota is extra confident today,” you say to the camera this time, laughing as you read the comments that were freaking out about the surprise kiss, “’did he kiss me?’ yeah, riiight here,” you point to the corner of your mouth, which is now stretched into a smile, “plus, he was wearing a mask,”

shota stands behind you, now playing with the ends of your hair and listening to what you were saying every now and then.

“’[name] wasn’t even surprised lollol’ no, because he does this all the time. sho is very affectionate, guys, really touchy,” he smiles under his mask and decide that he’s going to leave, to not intrude too much on your own live.

you look behind and see him pointing to the door, nodding in understanding, “you’re going straight to the dorm or to practice?” he grunts, making hand gestures which you interpret as him saying he was going to practice.

“okay, don’t stay out for too long, it’s already late, too,” you advise, shooting him a pointed look.

he nods vigorously, saluting to you as well. you laugh and mimic him, but in a less enthusiastic way.

before he leaves, he throws a peace sign to the camera and plants one more kiss onto your cheek, then forcing your hood on top of your head and slamming the door behind him. the live chat is saying how hectic those past three seconds were, but you just fondly smile and agree.

“but he’s always like that, so it’s not that surprising, everyone. that’s just regular soul,” you say, a genuine smile on your face as you pay attention to each comment.

— silently shares a lot of his interests with you. you already have a huge common one: pokemon, but other things that interest him are also made aware to you through gift giving. for some reason, shota loves buying you gifts of things that you don’t even know the reference to?? well, most of them are popular, so you know at least something about them, but other times, it’s just random figurines of characters you don’t recognize littered around your dorm. he makes them blend in with the already existing decor on purpose, smiling as he sets them up as he thinks of the expression you make each time you discover one. it’s like a fun game; what will soul leave behind each time he visits your room? each time, he’s guaranteed to leave something, it’s just a matter of if you find it or not.

— he does not like sharing his clothes with anyone!! it’s just not his style, he doesn’t like sharing with others and he doesn’t want people sharing their clothe with him. what’s his is his and what’s yours is yours, respectfully. one thing that soul doesn’t mind sharing with you, and only you, though, is some of his rings…not all of them!! just select ones! he’s very protective of his belongings, especially his rings, so it was a genuine surprise the first day he put it on your finger, but you came to realize it was only a select few he was comfortable sharing. but the fact he was sharing them with you in the first place was already fascinating and left you with a warm feeling in your chest because you knew how special they were to him.

“this one,” soul gently whispers as you two stand in his room. you’re crowding his desk, where he’s sitting and you’re standing. you watch him go through his jewelry boxes before your outing together. he made a comment on how you were missing essential accessories and then before you knew it, he was dragging you to his room to showcase all the jewelry he had for you to wear for the day.

the one he was holding now was a simple thick, silver band, and he tried it on each of your fingers, gently sliding it on and off to see where it fit best. when he finally saw that it was a perfect fit for your ring finger, he smiled up at you in pride. just when you thought that was enough, he turned back to his collection and began choosing another one.

“one more, it looks silly if you’re only wearing one,” he says in a matter fact tone, and since he was definitely more experienced with accessorizing, you just trusted him. even if it was a matter of opinion, you didn’t need to know that…

he pulls out a more special looking one, a dragon themed ring that has an edgy feel to it. this one goes on your middle finger pretty snug and he smiles wide, happy to see you wearing his jewelry.

“we’re matching,” he says, showing his heavily adorned fingers. the rings themselves weren’t matching, but you suppose he meant in general.

“we are, you have the coolest things, sho,” you say, looking at your fingers with a grin on your face. your hand goes up to ruffle his hair, then resting on the base of his neck as you guide him out of his room, “now, what should our first stop be?”

“food,” he says, happily walking beside you as you go out for your “date.”

— the other member often complain about how you give jongseob and soul the easiest time when it comes to the rigorous training, but they eventually stop bringing it up when one time you went particularly hard on them for their criticism. since that day, they’ve stopped talking about it and just silently wallow in their discovery as they watch you tend to jongseob and soul more than the rest. sometimes, though, their frustration about your difference in behavior does slip out — but no one actually walks away from it with their feelings hurt, so shota will silently continue to take advantage of it…

“i’m tired,” soul huffs, hands on his knees as he watches the reflection of the group in the mirror. he looks to you, pouting as he asks in a light tone, “can we take a quick break?”

“no, we already took one earlier, we have to practice for longer before taking a break,” jiung denies, shaking his head excessively to show that the idea wasn’t going to slide.

“but-”

“we can take a five minute break, or you can shota, it’s alright,” you defend immediately, waving your hand for him to take that as his signal to rest for a little bit.

”c’mon, [name], don’t go so easy on him,”

“yah, he’s the one that’s working the hardest, he has the dance break in the middle of the already hard choreo! don’t you feel some sypathy?”

“we all are working hard, thou-”

“i know, and i’m tired too, but imagine how shota feels, he’s the one that has to use the most energy out of all of us!”

“…i guess you’re right,”

there’s a heavy sigh as they realize you won’t back down, standing firm as shota’s defender. he’s grateful because he really was almost completely worn out at this point and it was seriously getting to him.

“only a couple minutes, okay?” you gently, but sternly check with him to which he nods in understanding. he smiles at your way of caring for him, holding your hand and planting a kiss on the back before releasing it and flopping to the wood floor of the practice room.

— always wants to be in contact with you. kind of going hand in hand with that other point i made, but to really drive it home, he always wants to be in arms reach of you. he’s holding your hand whenever he has the chance, if you guys are sitting, he’s practically resting in your lap and shamelessly hugging you close. he likes to monopolize on affection because he knows you’re also comfortable giving it. he’s selfish in this sense, not really wanting to share you with others when he’s feeling particularly needy. he’ll slot himself into your arms and stay there for as long as possible, no matter the setting.

you guys were all watching the scenes that you had just filmed back, intent on catching if something was wrong. you were on set to film a music video and it was nearing the end of the day, so everyone was rather mellowed out and tired.

shota took his place standing beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder as he watched the clip back. you gently run your hand up and down his back to comfort him of his tiredness, but it only makes him wish to slip into sleep.

“okay, soul, jongseob, theo, and [name], you’re done filming for the day, keeho, jiung, and intak, there is just one more scene we need to run through with you guys,” the three respond with as much enthusiasm as possible, stepping forward to follow the director’s instructions.

one of your managers comes forward and guides the rest of you to get unready in the dressing rooms, commenting on how after the three were done filming and getitng unready as well, they were going to be sending everyone home. that made the rest of you cheer in relief, taking a seat into the chair to let the makeup staff do their work.

soul had to fight the urge to fall asleep in his seat, watching his reflection and yours in the mirror to try and keep his eyes open. you were out of the makeup chair faster than the others, changing back into your regular clothes, and then collapsing onto the couch and sighing in relief to finally lay down. soul was next to be free, changing as fast as possible, and then falling right on top of you on the couch.

“sho, there’s so many other open spots,” you groan, turning over so that you were now laying on your back and holding soul directly to your person.

”you’re more comfortable,” he explains easily, placing a peck on your cheek and then resting his face into your neck and breathing in your scent.

you try ignoring the staff that was filming you with their camera, getting content for who knows what, and follow suit to shota closing his eyes. it seemed the two of you were the only ones that knocked out for a quick nap because when you were woken up by keeho, everyone else was already ready to go.

on the ride back to the dorms, shota was still clinging to your side and resting his head on your shoulder the entire car ride back. he rested your intertwined hands in his lap, too, playing with them until he fell back asleep.

— relying on you if he has trouble communicating something. ever since you were trainees, you made it clear that you were there to support him if he ever had trouble vocalizing something due to the language barrier. frustratingly, he had trouble with that a lot — especially early on when he was training with everyone. but you proved to be a reliable pillar for him to lean on when he had hit a roadblock in terms of what to say in korean. you try your best and even attempting to learn some japanese for him. nowadays, it isn’t nearly as often as it was before, but he still looks to you first for some assistance if he ever needs it. he realizes how he’s in an incredibly vulnerable position, to be asking you for help on something as important as clarifying or completely translating something to him, but he trusts you completely and knows there’s no malicious intent that you could have towards him (you’ve proven that to him many times).

— shota who feels the most comfortable with you, in all aspects. in showing affection, in sharing his opinion, in being himself, he can do it all if you’re right there by his side. this trust and faith definitely stems from how your relationship was formed in your trainee days, but shota doesn’t mind and instead takes advantage of your deep bond with one another. he often talks about taking you back to japan with him for a return visit (you had already went with him a couple other times, he just wants to bring you back so you can spend more time with him in his home country), speaking of how you need to spend more time with his dogs, too. he wants to keep you as close as possible, both physically and figuratively — in terms of your emotional connection and he will do anything to ensure that.

kim jongseob — maknae timeeee!!!!! despite being the youngest, jongsoeb by far has the most experience on the process of becoming and being a kpop idol. he was a trainee since he was practically 11 years old, so he was more versed in the industry than anyone else. unfortunately, due to his young age, people often don’t take him seriously. well, the members definitely do because they were pretty intimidated by him the first time they all met, but other people that work with don’t often show him the respect he deserves. but since your guys’ first meeting, you were always courteous and respectful to him, showing through your actions and words that you took him seriously and genuinely saw him to be the artist he worked so hard in becoming. because of this, he holds a special place for you in his heart — incredibly special. to be respected so quickly by someone older, even though you yourself were talented, was a huge honor and pleasant surprise to him.

“[name]! jongseobie is looking for you!” keeho announces, walking into one of the public spaces of the building and tapping your shoulder, “he’s in his studio, so i think it has to do with whatever he’s making,”

you tap intak off of your shoulder, standing up and grabbing your phone from your table. you frown slightly seeing several missed calls and texts from the man himself, pocketing the device and thanking keeho for telling you. the walk is short, going up to the designated floor where the private studios were and making a beeline for jongseob’s.

you knocked a couple times before he opened the door for you, smiling softly when he saw that it was you.

“why weren’t you answering my texts?” he asks with a drawl in his voice, an in between of teasing and whining. you chuckle softly at it, taking your seat next to him and explaining that your phone was just in do not disturb mode for the evening. “do not disturb? can’t you make it where there are exceptions? i should be on that list,”

“i didn’t even know that was a thing,” you defend yourself, but he just clicks his tongue and types away at his keyboard. then, he hands you the mic stand. “huh?”

“just do runs over the melody,” he says quickly, hitting his space bar and pushing his chair back so that he could carefully watch you, “i think it would sound like this,” he then weakly vocalizes a unique melody you’d never heard before, “but i wanted to hear you do it, it’d sound better and help me more than if i did it myself,”

“okayy,” you mimic the sound he made, earning a smile from him as he nods along, egging you on in continuing and letting you choose how the rest of it would sound.

jongseob likes involving you in a lot of his creative processes, similar to jiung. but you’re definitely invited to the studio more with jongseob than you are jiung. this is partly due to the fact that jongseob finds a lot of inspiration in you, as well you naturally helping in unblocking whatever creative dilemma he’s in.

he just always remembers when you two were still trainees and how much respect you had given him. it’s a thought that crosses his mind at least once a day, feeling grateful to have had you there to believe in him wholeheartedly since the beginning.

— briefly mentioned in jiung’s section, but whenever you guys go overseas, who you spend the most of your time with outside of the hotel room is supposed to be evenly split…supposed to. but the reality is that jongseob is the first to invite you out and — first come, first serve, right? he’s always eager to see the sights with you because he claims you make the perfect center piece for his photography and he likes how you two often share similar interests. when you two go out, his camera is strapped to his torso and you’re both eagerly taking in the foreign sights.

“wait, where did [name] go?” intak asks, coming out of the shower with his hair still damp and towel hanging off of his shoulders, “we were gonna go to the dining hall for lunch,”

“i think jongseob and him went out,” soul mindlessly answers, scrolling on his phone as he lounges on the couch, “me and [name] hyung are going out for dinner, though, so…”

“what?!”

meanwhile, you and jongseob were already a couple of blocks away from the hotel and popping in and out of stores that had caught your eye. occasionally, you’d hear the click of his film camera, but by the time you turn around to look at him with a playful glare, he’s already setting it back onto his hip with an innocent smile on his face.

— jongseob is probably the most vocal in talking about how much admiration and love he has for you. but it’s subtle slips into a conversation vocal, not the kind that is just “screamed” at the top of his lungs. there’s two different ways of speaking about someone, ykwim? there’s explicitly saying how you feel about them and then there’s talking fondly of them softly, but in every passing sentence. jongseob is definitely the latter. he isn’t the type to lay out all his emotions for others to perceive, instead he’ll calmly, but lovingly compliment you and your personality (constantly, at that). he makes it obvious how much he appreciates you, just not super “loudly” if that makes sense.

the group was getting interviewed individually for a behind the scenes video for the killin it album. jongseob sat in front of the cameras with a confident smile on his lips, waiting for the next comment the directors had to make.

“when you’re writing lyrics, is there anything else that you keep in mind besides the obvious meaning behind the words?”

he hummed, thinking about his answer for a couple of seconds before coming to a concrete answer, “i think about a couple of things, but at the forefront of my mind is how it will sound and how well each member can execute it. for example, for soul, i purposely choose easier to pronounce words to not make it incredibly difficult. and when i am making the general beat or melody, i tend to think about how [name] hyung would execute it. to me, he has the most raw voice that i really love working with and he is also enthusiastic about helping me create the vision before sending the draft to whoever needs to hear it next. his voice alone can inspire a lot of things from me, too, so i tend to just think about him when i compose things or come up with lyrics.”

there isn’t an ounce of embarrassment evident on his face as he speaks so truthfully and passionately about you.

the next question the director asked was, “do the members have a strong say in who gets which line?”

“well, me and intak just write our own raps, and come together occasionally if we get stuck — but dividing our parts up is easy, it’s just a matter of where in the song the verses are going to be. as for the vocals, i have a strong preference to [name] hyung’s voice, so the others have learned to tune me out of the discussion when it comes to the vocal department. i just end up saying he should get all the parts. but as far as i know, it’s mainly through civil discussion on how they divide the lines,” he laughs after confessing that, making viewers wonder how serious he was about what he just said. but he really drives it home, saying, “everyone in p1harmony has a unique voice, but i just really gravitate towards [name] hyung’s, i don’t know why because it’s been like this since we were trainees.”

“do you often get writing slumps or are unable to create something that suits your taste? was it especially challenging this time because you knew you were preparing for a full length album?”

jongseob hummed again, finding these questions fun to answer, “i mean, of course, everyone gets writer’s block. i just try getting over it as soon as possible by listening to music that i like and thinking of that as inspiration. but if it gets really bad, i just distance myself and try relaxing,”

“how do you relax then?”

“just sleeping, or spending time with the members, but mainly sleeping. i don’t like to over exert myself with dancing or vocal exercise too much, so i rely on sleep and [name] hyung to recharge my personal battery,” he laughs at how silly it sounds, but nods to himself knowing that he told the truth.

after the behind the scenes video dropped, p1ece were quick to point out how often jongseob had mentioned you in any question regarding his creative process. and it was heartwarming to see that every mention of you was done with a smile and positive feeling.

“that’s how you know he really loves [name], he basically called him his muse”

“[name] has been supporting him since they debut so its no surprise jongseob is so open in involving in his song writing and stuff, it’s really nice to see that nothing has changed between these two <333”

→ “i hope they can be together for the longest time, they really compliment each other so well”

“when i’m in an appreciating [name] contest and my opponent is kim jongseob.”

“the fact that he thinks about how to the song will sound with [name]’s voice in mind, this lil boy from p1harmony really does love [name]”

“the vitamin’s vitamin is [name] lollol”

— opposite to shota, doesn’t mind sharing his clothes with you. he finds it cute that sometimes he randomly picks a shirt from his dresser and it’s one of yours. and he loves when you two are seeing each other for the first time in the morning and he instantly recognizes the shirt that you’re wearing as his. jongseob’s style is very comfortable, baggy clothes, so it’s mainly sweatpants, hoodies, and oversized t-shirts that end up being co-owned by you. he genuinely doesn’t mind. in exchange, he takes some of your clothes too! so it’s basically a fair trade off (not underwear though, he’s no a #nasty gal like intak — who definitely doesn’t mind sharing underwear with you lmao). loves when they’re on the more oversized end because that’s just his style. loves absolutely drowning in whatever garment he’s wearing that is actually yours. playing with the strings of the sweatpants or snapping the waist band against his skin several times, making his hands drown in the hoodie sleeves, he just finds it so fun to play with clothes if they’re yours. welcomes you to do the same with his too.

— has a really sentimental photo of the two of you at his work desk. it’s in a simple, but nice, frame and was from your trainee days together. you’re both so much younger, obviously too, but you’re both smiling so wide it’s infectious to him each time he sees it and he smiles too. he thinks it was intak or keeho that took the photo, he can’t remember anymore.

it was when everyone was in the practice room for much later than they should’ve been. he remembers being exhausted and just wanting to go home, but with some encouragement and energy from you, he was determined to get through the entire practice. and when it was announced they were finally done, the two of you collapsed onto the hardwood floor and were just panting in fatigue. the reason you were laughing was just the synchronicity of the action, making you turn to face each other and burst out into a fit of laughs.

whoever had snapped the photo took it in a the fraction of a second, showing it to you two with a proud look on his face. you requested for it to be printed out while jongseob only felt as though it was just a silly photo. when he saw it printed out, though, he suddenly felt sentimental about the memory and wanted his own copy.

he’s recently taken up photography nowadays and it’s usually film, sometimes digital. but with each picture he takes of you, he always tells himself that he’ll end up adding that photo to the one existing on his desk. but he can’t bring himself to choose one out of the stack of printed photos he has of you, so he usually just keeps them safe in his dorm room, occasionally hanging one up there. but never in his studio. he finds that the singular one there is a strong enough memory for him to use as inspiration to keep trying harder and harder each time he works. he doesn’t want to disappoint the you and him of the past, the ones that worked so hard to get to where you were now.

— jongseob being an extremely sentimental guy, but in private. and if not in private, quietly in public. no one really notices this about him, but it’s especially obvious whenever the conversation regards you. he knows he owes so much to you, for what you provided for him during their pre-debut days, and he doesn’t want to let you down now. he continues to push himself in excelling for that reason, as well as a multitude of others (such as, wanting to see the group truly succeed and get what they deserve). an incredibly emotional mature person for his age and it’s made obvious to others with how he carries himself and articulates his feelings. that’s another thing he accredits to you, for properly guiding him. another reason he can’t let you down.

┆ if u made it this far omg i applaud u...this shit is so long, i hope u enjoyed reading about seventh member piwon endeavors!!! i had fun writing them and imagining them. i tried to make it non-repetitive as possible too, and i think (?) i did a relatively good job with that because each members felt unique in some way :3 okay bye thank u sm for reading - if u got this far !!

[enbyenvy666]

For my request, can you write a oneshot featuring Aizawa and a cis male reader with exhibitionism please? In the story, the two go out to the city with Aizawa wearing a long trenchcoat, a face mask and barefooted. In truth he'd be butt naked underneath with his cock in chastity, a vibrator and his mouth tape gagged. He's challenged by the reader to keep his cool and not orgasm throughout their city date. What do you think?

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓆏𓋼𓍊

hope you enjoy :)

CONTENT WARNINGS - 18+ MDNI, cock cage/chastity cage, public nudity, exhibitionism, sub Aizawa, implied reader isn't always dom, gags, vibrators, orgasm denial/edging, w/c - .6k

Aizawa shivered as a frigid breeze travelled underneath his trench coat, leaving goosebumps over his bare body. His hand squeezed yours as he tried to brace against the cold, avoiding the curious gazes from another couple when they noticed his bare feet on the pavement. 

“Brr, it’s getting chilly.” While to anyone else your comment seemed like basic small talk about the weather, to Aizawa it was just more teasing.  “Isn’t it, Sho-ta?” 

The gag in his mouth muffed his grunt, but you could see the way his eyebrows pinched together. As much as he wanted to deny it, he enjoyed your teasing. 

“Hmm? Could you speak up?” Your curious tone matched the sly smirk on your lips. Reaching into your pocket, you retrieved your phone. Aizawa’s dark eyes hesitantly looked down at you beside him, those same bloodshot eyes widening when he saw your phone screen. 

Your thumb slid up the screen and the vibrator buried deep inside him, which had just been softly buzzing, began to vibrate and pulse. It massaged all the right places, or more so the wrong places considering you and Aizawa were approaching a crowd. He bit down on the gag as he felt his cock twitch painfully in its cage, a cage he had initially bought for you that you somehow convinced him to wear for the night. 

As your thumb traced figure eights and random letters and symbols on your phone, Aizawa stopped in his tracks, feeling his knees start to shake as the vibrator started to teeter him closer to an orgasm. His body felt hot on the inside and cold on the outside, the pain of the cage only heightened the pleasure from the vibrator and the risk of being caught doing something so filthy, so debaucherous made everything feel stronger. 

He squeezed your hand as if pleading for you to give him a break. Thankfully there was a bench nearby, which he stumbled over to, practically falling onto it. He couldn’t contain his moan as sitting caused the vibrator to shift and press harder against his prostate, sending wave after wave of pleasure through his veins.

When you turned to stand in front of him and saw his red cheeks and sweaty dotted forehead, even on this chilly night, you relented. With the toy now only giving him a teasing murmur, he took in a deep breath through his nose, glaring threateningly up at you. But it only made you giggle as you reached down to cup his chin, lifting his head to look at you.

“Now now Shota, if you can get through tonight without coming, I’ll let you do whatever you like to me,” you bargained. Either to comfort himself or you, you were unsure, but he gripped your hips as you stood before him, considering your offer. People walking on the path behind you made him slowly turn away from you, brought back to the realisation that you were still in public.

Squeezing his jaw, you roughly turned his attention back to you, quirking your eyebrow as if to reiterate your question. He almost couldn’t believe what was happening. His boyfriend, who up until this point he couldn’t believe could be dominant, had him walking around the city, completely naked underneath a trench coat, with his cock in a chastity cage, a vibrator nestled deep inside him and a gag in his mouth, covered only by a mask. 

With a blush spreading down his neck, he nodded. You grinned happily, leaning down closer to his face. In a quick swipe, you pulled down the mask and pressed a kiss to the gag, as if it were his lips. He gave a muffled grunt of surprise, eyes darting around the people around you. Thankfully no one noticed before you pulled his mask back up, a cheeky grin on your face. Grabbing his hands from your hips, you helped him stand from the bench before continuing your walk through the city. 

“We just have a movie and dinner to get through.”

[butterfly-writer]

Hello! Can you do a part two to the Aizawa fic where the merchant reader accepts and moves on, and then a few years later he barely recognizes aizawa when they see each other again? Thank you!

Troubles Coming Back

Street!Rat!Aizawa x Merchant!Male!reader [Aladdin AU] Summary: Years went by without a hitch. Y/N had gone his separate way, forgetting Aizawa and getting caught up in all his traveling and selling work. When he came back from a long trip after his quarrel with Shota Aizawa 5 years ago, he was unexpectedly robbed. Who’s the robber?

★☽A/N: Oooo! This will be interesting! I didn’t exactly plan to have this to have a part two so I will try my best!

Contents: SLIGHT ANGST - FLUFF

════❖════

“Y/N! It’s so great to see you!” A black-haired woman greeted the H/C-haired man with a smile and open arms. Y/N smiled gleefully and embraced Jasmine in a tight hug. “It’s been too long! You didn’t even write a letter!” Jasmine laughed.

Y/N also laughed in response. “I know, I know! I’m so sorry!” He apologized. The rest of the day was spent talking about their life while the other was gone.

The 36 year old man was shocked to hear that Jasmine had married Aladdin, a streetrat. But it made sense to him after she explained the whole story from her perspective and from Aladdin’s. He had to admit, the topic about Aladdin made him think about Aizawa…

He couldn’t believe it… He missed him?

The memories of how they ended things flooded his mind. He had shivers down his spine just thinking about it. He wished he hadn’t said all those things to Shota.

Though, it was too late to go back from what he said all those years ago.

════

He was taking a stroll in the marketplace. He wanted to buy some things that he needed for his next trip next year, like ink and paper. It was safer to prepare objects such as that since it might increase in worth when it is less in stock and more in demand.

Y/N had lovely talks to familiar faces who were glad to see him after all those years. He was quite shocked that they still remembered him. L/N had a bad reputation as a kid, always running around and giving people death glares.

The only people who actually liked him when he was still a child and teenager were the old librarian, the king, Jasmine, Aladdin, and…

Shota.

He stopped in his tracks.

He couldn’t believe he was thinking about Aizawa again. After all these years, he didn’t expect himself to think back to his quarrel with the black-haired man.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

The H/C-haired man did not want to think about the man anymore. All he wanted to do was to work on his work and not to work on his past broken relations. Everything that happened 5 years ago, should stay in the past, not in the future and bothering him with guilt.

“Y/N!” The man turned to find Aladdin, dressed in much more cleaner clothing than he last saw him in. He couldn’t help but snicker. “Can’t believe you’re wearing cleaner clothes! Hah!!” He laughed. Aladdin laughed along, patting his back like he used to do.

“Now, that’s just mean!” He laughed back.

The pair ended up talking about their lives when the other wasn’t present, just like Y/N did with Jasmine. Suppose the two of them were too loud, because some passersby looked at them with strange looks.

Later, Aladdin had to do something else so he said his goodbyes to Y/N and walked the separate way.

════

Finally, he ended up finishing up his shopping and got what he needed. It was all in his traveling bag.

He was walking past the alley, bright with street lights. Y/N definitely wasn;t expecting his bag to be taken away from his bag in one swift move by a passing person. But he was quick with his instincts and grabbed the bag before it was out of view.

His action caused the robber to stumble back and fall to the ground. Y/N wore his bag again and bent over the fallen robber. He wanted to memorize the face and dragged the robber to the police to report him for the thief.

He took a closer look at the face and entire look.

Long black messy hair, half of it was tied in a messy bun. Sharp cat eyes with dark circles under, black eyes staring right back at him. A dark scruffy goatee on his chin that seems to be maintained well. A single scar across his right cheek, underneath his eye.

“Shota..?” Eyes widened and mouth agape, he looked over with shock. The dark-haired man was also shocked to see a familiar face. “Y/N! I didn’t realize it was you–” Aizawa rushed to say his words, trying to pick himself up.

Y/N gave him a hand and pulled him right back up. “I nearly didn’t recognize you! Your hair gotten longer!” Y/N smiled. He didn’t even realize how much he missed his hoarse voice. He always found it annoying back then, but now… he had a whole different feeling about it.

Aizawa blushed at his comment. “Yeah… It’s a bother to cut it..” he answered, twirling a strand between his fingers. He couldn’t believe that he was seeing Y/N again! Last time he saw him, he looked messy. Now, Y/N looked much cleaner. He looked mature and wise.

The two of them just stood there in silence. In their heads, they had no idea how to talk to each other. Afterall, they end things in a heated arguement.

With a deep sigh, Shota turned to Y/N with a frown on his face. “Look,” He took a step forward. “I’m really sorry for how things ended. I know it’s too late to say this, but– I love you and I’m so sorry I said all those words to you. I never mean to say them, they just came flooding out-”

He was suddenly pulled into a deep and passionate kiss. His eyes wide and his back arched as he was pulled into a kiss by his past lover. His eyes closed and his hands rested on the side on his neck and on his hip.

The two of them pulled apart, a long string of saliva connecting the two of them, their faces flushed and colored a deep red. Shota didn’t realize Y/N was crying until a few drops of water feel to the ground. He looked up at Y/N’s pitiful face.

His eyes were staring at the ground, tears flooding his vision and falling to the ground like rain. His whole body was shaking and hiccups and sniffles could be heard from the older man. “Hey, hey–” Aizawa lifted his head with his hand, revealing his bloodshot eyes from how much he was crying.

“I’m so sorry we ended things like we did. I didn’t want to say all those things– I swear, I-I didn’t mean to!” Aizawa slowly shushes him with a soft smile. “You shouldn’t apologize. I know life must’ve been hard on you.” He pressed his forehead against L/N’s, trying to soothe him.

The two of them ended up staying in that position for a long period of time.

Both relieved the other still loved them just the way they are. Just like old times.

════❖════

★☽A/N: HAHA, I’m not so good at making endings!! Let’s just hope this one goes well!

[dabisbratz]

𝒮𝒲𝐸𝐸𝒯 𝒯𝒪𝒪𝒯𝐻 — shouta aizawa x male reader

w.c: 12.4k

warning: dbf!shouta, age gap, (sho in his early 40s, reader is 23), bottom!reader, daddy kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, feminization, mentions of gettin ‘knocked up’ regardless of anatomy, sneaking around, creampie, unprotected sex ( wear condoms ! ), praise/degradation, brat!reader, jealousy, mutual teasing, reader has an oral fixation, improper use of lollipops, mentions of exhibitionism, blowjobs, cumming untouched/hands free orgasm, ‘ taboo ’

sonny says..: not proof read, msorry !! did lotsa jumpin around while writin this. . . n five months later !! she’s all done !! ໒꒰ྀི⸝⸝T ˘ T⸝⸝꒱ྀི১ ♡ m’a lil rusty, forgive me !!

You’re back home for the summer.

Well— not entirely. You’re back at your family’s summer house for the season. Gifted from your grandparents, it teeters at the beginning of a beach, crystal sands and clear, blue waters that stretch out into the horizon. You’ve been looking forward to it since you’d graduated, even if it did come with a set of overbearing parents and a sinful amount of sunscreen.

The air is hot and thick, sticking uncomfortably to your skin through the windshield as you watch an everlasting stretch of greenery and trees pass you by. The road has stretched on for miles, every upcoming exit and street sign blending into one as each hour passes by. You’ve got the company of staticky radio stations and news outlets, spewing something nonsensical about sports, politics, car insurance. . . But it’s the trip you enjoy more than the destination. Traffic and all, you prefer it over the muggy air and parental scolding. Though, the beach is nice. . .

“You’re sure you’re taking the right route?” It’s your mother speaking, her voice crackling through the speakers of your car. You’re sure she’d smack you upside the head for the aggressive roll of your eyes in her. . . general direction, but she’s not exactly within eye-contact distance. Not for another five minutes, anyway.

“I’ve been doing this for years,” You have— it’s true. Though you’re only twenty-two, you’d driven this distance since you’d left for college. There’s a sound akin to the sucking of teeth through the radio, and you have half the mind to turn around and restart your road-trip all over again.

“Why’s there so much attitude in your voice?” Her cheerful, smiley voice suddenly sounds much more shrill, to your chagrin. You thrum your fingers along the leather of the steering wheel, biting back a long, drawn out groan.

“There isn’t any,” Gravel crackles under the weight of your rubber-tire car, snapping and popping into the air as it makes a smooth halt into the driveway. Shifting gears to park, the radio switches off with the twist of your keys. And, perhaps with more force than necessary, you’re slamming the door to your car and face to face with your mother. Her phone is still in hand, eyebrows pinched at the thought of her very own son hanging up on her. “. . . attitude, Ma.”

She hugs you with a squeal, ushering you up the stairs to your childhood ‘home.’ It’s almost exactly like you’d left it— save for a few recent porch decorations and repainted walls. You hope the years have been kind to it, with the irregular weather and constant pipe problems. Floorboards creak under your weight, welcoming you home after a few long years of studies. There’s an everlasting stream of bubbly speech behind you, your mom speaking, but there’s already so much to take in.

The air is fresh and salty, hints of beachy winds flowing upstream through the doorway. It smells like home, and looks like it too, as you situate your small duffel bag by the stairs that lead to the bedrooms. Your room. You hadn’t packed much— there was still a dresser overflowing with old clothes in your bedroom, after all. And now that you think about it, you should probably change into something more fitting for the weather.

“I know you just got here,” The sound of ice swirling against glass catches your attention, and you turn to face your mother. “But could you bring these out to your father?” She’s holding a tray of decorative glasses— or at least, you’d always thought they were— full of oblong ice and freshly squeezed lemonade. The glasses are stocky enough to adorn lollipops— one each, which are probably sickeningly sour. Topped with tiny, colorful umbrellas and intricate swirling straws. It’s almost like she’s trying to impress someone, with the way she’s put so much effort into the drink’s presentation.

Your lips curl to form a playful ‘no’, a boyish smile pulling at your cheeks when she huffs— as if she already knows what you’re about to do. So you shake your head instead, stealing the tray with one hand, “Let me change first.”

In hindsight, wearing clothes about. . four years too small wasn’t a great idea. The shorts that once fit you perfectly— before your growth spurt— are now much too short, like they’ve been tossed around in the laundry one too many times. You feel almost naked, moving the pink hem down with the shake of your legs.

Your mother insists they look just fine, a dramatic downturn to her lips as she rambles on and on about how fast her boy has grown up. Still, as you walk through the sliding glass doors parallel to the open patio, the sunlight bathing your legs does nothing but make you feel stuck under a rapidly growing spotlight.

It all clicks as you walk outside— the detailed drinks, the smell of barbecue and fresh coal. There is someone she’s trying to impress, someone other than your father. Maybe both of them. On a good day.

Wiping the bead of sweat from your brow, your eyes squint at the man in front of you. Around your dad’s age— maybe slightly younger, he stands at a whopping six foot something. There’s age in his face, and worry between his brows as if he’d spent most of his youth grimacing. His hair is long and black like charcoal, save for a few streaks of gray and a salt and pepper ensemble of stubble littering his chin and jaw. Two scars— forming a cross of sorts, one beneath his right eye, horizontal and thin. But the other is much longer, starting below his brow and ending at his cheekbone. It draws your eyes to a milky gray iris— heavily contrasting against the natural black-brown of his left one. It’s pretty, cloudy and almost pearlescent.

His silhouette— tall and thick, with broad shoulders that travel on and on as he crosses thick biceps over his thick chest. He’s standing in the way of the sun, and yet, it peeks through his long hair in small, short leaks. And, surprisingly, his waist is small in his black tank top. If you feel hot he must be scorching, draped in black— down to the beaded bracelet adorning his wrist. His hands— they’re big, maybe enough to cover the entirety of your face, curled into loose fists at his biceps.

And— right, you’re here to help, not gawk. But you can’t help it, shifting your weight from one leg to another as his intimidating gaze slowly sweeps you over. He’s like sex on legs, and if you can squint enough to get the sun out your eyes, you swear you can see the imprint of his cock through his black shorts.

“Uh,” You blink dumbly after introducing yourself, and suddenly the tray you’re holding is weightless. “Ma made these. I’m supposed to help. . . or something. . .”

“Or something.” The man echoes, but it’s quiet and you barely catch it. His voice is deep, way deeper than your own, rumbling in your ears and smooth like butter. Almost husky, with a dark edge to it as flames roar in his face. But it makes your father laugh, hearty and jubilant as he bounces over to where you stand. He gives you a small pat on the back as a greeting, ushering out a small, “son.”

The heat emitting off the grill is enough to make a grown man cry, but neither of you wince when you walk by it. Cold glasses of lemonade are handed out, fingers imprinted on cold condensation painting the surfaces of each glass as they’re passed around— one for you, one for your dad, another for him. You watch rivulets of water drip from his fingertips, down his wrist, past the collection of veins adorning his forearm.

“Mr. Aizawa,” There’s a beat of silence, but it’s quickly filled once you’ve been introduced. “World’s cruelest teacher.”

“Shouta Aizawa.” Is all he says, a correction of sorts, voice grumbly as his fingertips brush against your knuckles. Your eyes flicker down to where he’d touched you, his skin warm and inviting despite the roughness of his palms. You see now, that he’s accompanying your father, occasionally taking over when he walks back into the house every. . . five minutes or so.

“An old friend of mine, we go way back.” Your parents have an odd habit of rambling, it seems, because you and the handsome stranger make exasperated eye contact as your dad begins to reminisce on old memories. “You met him a few times— remember? He’ll be staying with us, so be respectful, you hear me?” His gaze seems to dip for a moment, down your lips and straight to the extra exposed skin of your thighs, then settle back to the ocean before you can comment.

But those five minutes must start now, because after a firm squeeze to your shoulder your father heads inside, leaving you alone with his. . . friend. He’s awfully quiet, busying himself as the patio door slides shut— occasionally sighing as he wipes away the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. It’s obvious you’re staring, maybe a bit too hard, but he’s the best scene around, really. Even with the beach right behind him.

And maybe it’s wrong to think this way— but he’s hot. Old enough to be your dad and then some, sure, but it doesn’t make him any less attractive. He almost makes you nervous, the slow blink of his eyes as he pays you no mind.

“So you’re staying with us, huh?” You eye the juicy meat he’s been flipping for the last five minutes, golden brown and sizzling in the heat. It’s rather thick, soon to be lazily flattened by the tongs he's holding and— you can’t help but wonder. . . Is he good with his hands?

“Don’t make a habit of asking strange old men questions like that.” It’s not entirely clear if he’s serious or not, but he’s certainly assertive. Like a firm, guiding hand placed at the nape of your neck. Your eyebrows pinch in confusion, but before you can ask what he means, it clicks. You’d said it out loud, let it float into the air like an everyday, casual question. But Aizawa doesn’t seem exactly bothered, more passive (if anything), as he takes a swig of the fruity, sour concoction.

“You’re not strange.” Is what you conclude, slamming the tray down hard enough to rattle its contents, and the man notes your lack of regard. Even with a slight spill you don’t bother to clean, you’re already turning to walk off the patio and dig your toes into the hot sand before it can be mentioned— but not without plucking a lemon coated lollipop free from its icy enclosure of glass. There’s an arrangement of seashells hidden beneath the coarse mounds of the glimmering seaside. Different sizes and colors, different textures and shapes. Where some would scrape the soles of your feet, others would glide across them. But as a kid you’d liked the search for tiny crabs much more than the search for shells. Though you’re much older now, you’re not afraid to say you miss it.

“But I’m old?” Aizawa says, not too far behind you from where he stands. There’s a light glint of dry humor in his voice that sends butterflies down your throat and straight into your stomach.

“Yeah. Old enough.” Your small laughter is sweet, dancing in the air in a way that has Shouta nearly pressing his palm flat into the skillet— just to check if his heart is still beating. What do you mean by that, anyway?

There’s a divot where the tightness of your shorts dip into your skin, pressing against the plush skin of your ass whenever you bend over. Even as you’re upright, Shouta can’t stand to look for too long— you’re a real, proper, honest and genuine distraction. Yet here he is, watching you move around on your hands and knees, ass taut and round— shorts tight enough to show off the cute bulge of your balls from behind. And now that he’s really looking, it’s obvious you’re not wearing anything underneath.

He shakes his head, grunting to himself as he peels processed cheese free from its plastic packaging. You just met, that’s not right, you’re simply just minding your own.

“Ugh!” You share a groan, and for completely different reasons. Aizawa can’t help but watch you scramble in the sand, presumably after whatever sea-creature that had the pleasure to pinch you right on the finger. But you seem happy once it’s retrieved, stuck in the seclusion of its tiny shell as you hold it in your palm. From what he can see, you’re not much of a brat at all. Maybe your parents are just too hard on you. He’s always known them to be dramatics.

Still, he has half the mind to drag you over by your ankle, or maybe to press your handsome face into the sand while he fucks you from behind. Ever since you’d brought out that damned lemonade— tugging on the hem of the fabric as if you’d suddenly grown conscious of just how short they were— he’d been hard. And now he has to listen to you grunt and groan over the smallest of injuries. . . His best friend’s son, his presumed pride and joy.

He’s fucked.

From where he stands, slightly elevated, he can see the bulge of the sweet protruding from your cheeks, stuck afore your teeth. Cute, as it swishes from side to side, stuck in your mouth as your occupied fingers caress the diaphanous shell in the palm of your hand. Your lips move, puckered, around the sucker, curled and glossy with molten sugar— it’s hard to make out exactly what words your mouth forms, yet Shouta doesn’t think he’d be able to listen anyway.

Turns out the creature was a hermit crab.

Shouta learns this at dinner, the day’s hard work shared on plastic platters and glass

bottles in the middle of the beach. There’s a roaring flame between the four of you, it casts golden embers along your skin every so often, crackling into the air. Cicadas chirp with the night’s welcome, loud and joyful in retaliation to the silent, serene fireflies and settling ocean.

You’re all sipping on beers, some more than others, but it’s enough to loosen everyone up. Even Shouta, whose eyes look lidded with sleep the more he drinks. He’s not incoherent, he never is. If anything he’s observant. For one, you have an awful habit of holding onto this evening’s lollipop, it seems, as you have it situated between your fingers like a cigarette. Sometimes your grip around it tightens, like when your mother wraps her hand around his bicep, squeezing the flesh in small, sporadic rounds. And though neither of you want to say it, let alone think it— you’re jealous. That’s the second thing.

Even with Shouta’s knee brushing against your own, you can’t help it. He’s so warm, muscly legs pressed against your own in a manner that’s almost electrifying. You want it all to yourself, to suffocate in his heat and capable hands.

You zone out of the conversation, blinking at the fire with reserved eyes until a thick screwer pokes at the flesh of your shoulder, leaving behind a tiny dimple. Jet black hair invades your vision for a moment, smelling of faint seasalt and warm cologne, until you turn, “What?”

“You want chocolate on your marshmallow, right?” Your mother asks for him, squeezing a transparent bag of thick, soft marshmallows. It’s tossed to you in a flash, to which you catch, but not before stealing a glance at the man beside you. His jaw sets, poking out from the mass of stubble. Like she’d stolen a precious moment away.

“Right,” You mumble, stabbing the skewer through the excessive amount of sugar. The stick hovers above the fire, the sweet melting to a crisp, flaky brown. Sticky and gooey, it slowly begins to lose its form. Through all the conversation you can’t help but glance at the older man to your left, taking in the glow of yellow and orange caressing his tan skin. His silhouette is bold and broad, legs spread wide as he sits on a thick log. What was once brown turns a deep, dark charcoal. “Oh, shit! Fuck. I meant shoot, sorry.”

You’re not supposed to swear in front of your parents— Aizawa’s paternal intuition picks that up. But shoving the marshmallow into your mouth, even as it has yet to cool down, he doesn’t quite get. Either way, your expression. . . it’s sickeningly cute. It’s cute to watch you fumble. With lips pursed into a tight line, cheeks bitten and eyebrows pinched with apology despite how obviously uncomfortable you are with the piping, burnt sugar spreading along your tongue.

His heart could almost burst.

“You’re fine, kid.” Shouta’s voice is a gentle whisper, airy like the waves brushing against the shore. With his eyes caught on the sticky white lingering on your cheek, he's desperately aware you’re not a kid. The way you move and speak, the way you carry yourself. The way you suck on lollipops like they’re something else. He’s never been one for dirty jokes or subtle innuendos but. . . yeah, this is doing something to him. His fingers twitch with want, the desire to wipe it away and rub his thumb along your lips. He should really get it together.

And maybe the fact that he’s more worried about your parents being in the way than the fact that they’re your parents proves that.

But they’re pretty preoccupied, lost in conversation neither of you are exactly interested in. Whirling his own marshmallow, chocolate melts down its fluffy outside. It’s steaming, hot and fluffy after twirling around the fire. Looking at it now, it looks comically small in his large hands, much bigger than your own. His lips part, cool air leaving the ‘o’ shaped mold of his mouth as he blows on it with a low, “Here.”

There they go again, mouth open as your pink tongue covers your row of bottom teeth, Shouta doesn’t let go of the skewer despite the light squeezes you press along his knuckles. Instead he holds on tighter, lifting and reaching until the desert melts in your mouth and sticks to your lips. Messy on purpose, your heart plummets into your tummy when dark eyes watch marshmallow fluff pull away from between your teeth. Hungry, starving.

“I can do it myself.” You mumble, wondering if the heat prickling your skin is from the brush of his fingers against your own or the wilting fire.

“Can you?” His expression is tired and flat, but his voice tilts with blooming amusement. It’s odd, the way you’re so quick to shut him down. You almost respond more openly when you hear sneaky comments or listen to gossip— ‘that boy just doesn’t know what to stop,’ ‘why’s he such a smartass?’ — spoken about you directly by you.

“Yeah,” There’s a shine in your eye that isn’t just a product of the glowing fire. Mischievous, almost. “I don’t break that easily.”

Shouta could definitely take your dad in a fight. It’s the first thing that pops into mind as the two of you stand in the dark, dimly lit kitchen. Your parents had gone off to bed almost an hour ago, and with the clock approaching half past midnight, it leaves you two alone. So, yes, he’s considering who would win in a brawl because he can’t stop staring at his best friend’s son and his pretty, kissable lips.

They’re sheen with spit, your pink tongue licking them over as you scrub away yesterday’s dirt from the kitchen counter. It’s a noncommittal motion, your arms wiping suds and heavy contents of water along the granite surface. Yet you seem absolutely dead-set on getting that one stain. The stain that has your ass brushing against his side, bare skin rippling the harder, lazier, you scrub. Not that there’s even a stain to clean.

Yep. He’s fucked.

You suppose he should be focusing on the dishes— not that there’s much of those either— but his attention strays.

It carries him through the motion of leaning over, his body practically draping your own as you bend at the waist. Black hair again, wisps of it, lightly pressed against your back as he leans down, lips by the shell of your ear and an arm trapping you in. His cock is pressed right against the swell of your ass, and he may have to consider slipping it between his waistband.

“I think you got it.”

“Oh, really?” Your hips are moving again, side to side as you scrub shapes into nothing. “Double check for me?”

A low groan sounds behind you, big hands at your thighs that squeeze enough to have the plush skin bruised and tender in the morning. His hand travels, snaking up your thighs to meet the silky skin of your ass. Spread nicely with the way you’re bent over, warmth radiating off each globe as his thick pointer finger loops around the thin layer of pink cotton pressing against your balls.

It’d be so easy, perfect access to slip his thick cock into the warm, tight walls of your hole and pound you against the counter. You could sit on his dick for the whole day, drooling and dumb the more the head kisses your prostate again and again and again. Your Daddy could fuck you on your dad’s favorite sofa, make it squeal and whine under the weight of him filling your fucked-out and used cunt over and over.

Dark pupils blow wide as he pulls the fabric away, watching your hole flutter around nothing. He coos, sweet and deep. Just give him a minute, he’ll give you everything you need. Everything and more, until you’re a braindead fucktoy with glassy eyes and sticky, dripping holes. Until—

You’ve slipped past his arm, twisting as your growling stomach makes itself known. You inhale a quivering breath through your nose, eyes wide and expecting and waiting. His best friend’s son, wriggling and writhing under his palms, handsome face twisting as pearly teeth bite at your stout bottom lip.

He’s almost frustrated with himself, voice flat and distant when you puff out your cheeks. Forget a distraction— you’re a real, honest brat. “You’re still hungry.”

“I’m a growing man, Sho.” It’s almost consequential how your voice cracks, breathy and teetering the edge of a whine as he releases his grip on your body. Light from the fridge illuminates your silhouette in a yellow, halo-adjacent glow, and once again Shouta is staring a little too hard at his best friend’s son as he bends forward at the waist.

Aizawa weighs the juxtaposition between the middle of that sentence for a moment before his breath catches in your throat. Sho. You’d called him by a nickname, ten times sweeter than the candied fruit (grapes, are they?) you’re now sinking your teeth into. You’ve grown alright, and the proof stands hard, throbbing, and pressing against your shorts once you’ve returned to face him. It’s obvious your ploy with the fruit was just something to keep your mind off cumming in your cute, soft shorts— but he’d honestly have preferred to see that.

“I can see that.”

Rough palms press into your jaw— firm, but not aggressive, until fingers close and clasp at your cheeks. A dissolving layer of baby fat at your cheeks spills between his stern fingers, and you blink as the older man turns your face from left to right, then reverse. Seems he’s got a nasty habit of looking you over, breaking you down— bare bones. You still have enough room to chew, teeth grinding on the crystallized sugar with a hard and resounding crunch.

There’s always something in your mouth.

Dark eyes flicker to the lump appearing and disappearing in your throat as you swallow, sweet sugar dotting your lips, “You’re hard.”

“Yeah,” It earns a dark chuckle, though there’s not much light humor in it, “So are you.” His lips curl as he releases his grip, slow and lingering.

“Usually,” your gaze drops to his lips. “When two men,” Then up to his deep, dark eyes as you press against him, chest to chest. His cock twitches against the heat of your body, you can imagine it now— thick and pretty, curved upward with a sticky head and throbbing, heavy veins. “Make eachother. . . hard, they—”

A door slams upstairs, the air going still as your breath catches in your throat. As if that single disturbance has stolen all the oxygen in the world, your body goes rigid and stiff, and the sound of tired steps make their way descending down wooden stairs. The candied grapes are swapped for thick fingers, with light peppers of hair at the knuckles, and you can’t help but suck the seasalt right off.

“Behave.” He takes a single step back, dripping with indubitable authority that makes you feel light and airy. Ready to bend at his will with lazy eyelids and hazy eyes. It’s not a question, not a suggestion— it’s a demand.

“You’re still up,” Your father, shameless as he walks by the two of you with barely any coverings, makes a sleepy gesture in your general direction as he opens the fridge. “Both of you, huh?” He sounds faintly out of breath, and his skin sheen. The mental implications make you cringe, taking a step toward the characteristically nonchalant man who’d just stepped away from you.

Shouta’s eyes narrow.

“Don’t tell me I’m being replaced!” He’s always been a loud man, your father, but it seems tonight his one-too-many beers have finally caught up to him. It’s just a joke, the both of you know it, but you can’t help the prickle of heat poking at your throat. You’re pulled in by the back of your head, your father’s hand pressed against your hair as he holds you in a firm side-hug, “Rather Mr. Aizawa be your old man?”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Your smile is wide and tantalizing, heavy and dripping with something that has yet to be named. “Are you a good Daddy, Mr. Aizawa?”

Then, his eye twitches, “When I want to be.”

Your laugh is instantaneous and loud, an awkward thing that stretches into deep silence. There’s a lot of things you’d like Mr. Aizawa to be— rough, gentle, sweet, and mean. But your dad? It’s laughable, and couldn’t be farther from the truth. And sure, maybe the title you'd like to use on him sounds similar, but they’re most definitely not the same. If only he knew.

“I’m sure you’re the best,” He watches you smile, opposite ends of your mouth pulling at your cheeks in a motion that doesn’t quite meet your eyes— but it’s convincing enough. “Better than your other friends, right Dad?”

Shouta is avoiding you.

You know it, you can tell! He’s always gone nowadays— a couple weeks into your vacation and you can only count a mere handful of the times you remember seeing him. You’ve barely talked, barely stole a few glances here and there— he may as well have disappeared. He’s out somewhere, somewhere that involves your father, and the ocean, and his generously sized deck-boat. You don’t want to say it, but you know you’re the reason why. You’ve gone a bit overboard, perhaps, with the flirting. Ever since that night— even before then, it’d become a natural habit of yours to call the man Daddy.

And, now, he’s grown even closer to your parents because of it. Whenever you come down for breakfast they’ve already finished, leaving your plate in the microwave— as if you’d want cold, limp eggs and soggy, get charred bacon. You want to scream, really. There’s your mother, who leaves lingering touches and bats her eyelashes like some sort of schoolgirl. You feel almost evil for the rage that sears your blood— even more so when your first thought is she’s pushing fifty.

Then there’s your father. Who is and always will be, not if you can help it, closer to Shouta than you ever will be. They drink together a lot, the guest more in moderation, but it still hurts to see them laugh about old times— over, and over, and over again. Even when you’re the topic of conversation, despite your presence being completely ignored, it hurts. You’re right here.

So you mope, lounging around in your swim trunks. Your skin sticks to every surface, humid and thick as your mother complains to you about getting some sun, stepping out the house, then something about how you need to fix the look on your face. She says the warm rays on your skin will do you some good, the salty water of the sea against your body will toughen up your bones and loosen your muscles. But there’s really only one thing on your mind.

It trickles into about an hour and a half when Mr. Aizawa finally comes back. Your father too, you suppose, with flushed cheeks that only sake can replicate. It’s once you’ve been pulled outside and forced to stand in wet, thick sand that washes away from your feet with every sweep of the shore— that they return. Once the sun has begun to set, yet still bright enough to have your brows furrowed and eyes narrowed, they return.

“There’s my boy!” No one’s boy, actually. Your father shouts with an intoxicated wave, and the grimace on Shouta’s face is hidden behind his whipping hair as he slows the boat to a stop.

Or at least, you think so. It’s hard to see with the sun in your eyes, yellow and orange flakes of the gold star percolating your vision.

It dances along the surface of the ocean, pretty and shimmering the closer you step, the further you go, until you’re submerged in water from your knees—down. There’s a shout, something akin to a ‘catch!’, and you have barely any time to react to the ball that’s flying to you with an oddly precise amount of speed and velocity. You gasp, whipping your head back to catch the ball between two sea-soaked hands.

“What the hell?!” Your hands sting, pretty eyes blinking back at the two silhouettes in your vicinity. Mainly at Aizawa, who hasn’t even acknowledged you, let alone looked away from the resplendent horizon. And what’s so good about that? Of all things to look at— you’re right here! You don’t leave with the setting sun, nor do you only ever arrive with the rising one. You’re a constant, and you know you don’t hurt to look at.

So you throw the ball back, all your force behind it with a smug look on your face until it smacks Shouta in the leg— right in the center of his calf with a horrifying thump of a sound.

“Fuck,” You shout in horror, despite it all. Despite the desire to maul him the last few weeks, rushing forward into the water with the cutest tremor to your brows. “Fuck, okay, shit, my bad!”

And it seems you can’t move fast enough to wade through the rippling waves, where schools of tiny, nipping fish and textured shells had twirled and danced about through the currents of pellucid water. But Shouta seems just fine, almost as if he’d forgotten how to react to the feeling of getting punted with a ball at full force. He picks it up, waves it in his large palm, and throws it back. You can hear it tear through the air, just as it smacks you in the shoulder with so much force you don’t register it at first.

Numbness spreads along your arm, eyes blinking up at the older man who laughs. It’s quiet yet hearty, and not at all a pretty sound. It’s more contagious if anything, a wheeze of sorts, but your lips still curl into a petty frown regardless. You can make out a huff of “Your face!” broken up with laughter, biting back on his tongue.

“I’m not laughing.” You grumble, rubbing at your shoulder with faux diligence.

There’s an eerie smile on his face, enough to send shivers down your spine as water drapes your face and drips down your body— boat engine revving with ferocity as the men float off into the boarding dock— Aizawa’s presence arrives just as fast as it leaves.

You’re left to your devices, gawking as you process the last few minutes— his smile, your brattiness and stupidity, the way you’d only just noticed his prosthetic leg— at the mention you can feel miscellaneous fish brush against your own, scales shining through the transparent waters. You can’t help but smile too, wiping it away with the back of your water-draped forearm. Fuck.

It’s only been a month and you’re smitten. He’d left you in favor of your father again, and all you can do is giggle about it.

There’s not much you know about the man— now that you think about it. There’s been a brief drunken mention of him having kids of his own, a little girl, you think. Maybe a son? Despite his affliction for quiet, Aizawa looks as though there’s more he wants to say. To share, to tell. Your father must know it all, seeing as they grew up together, and part of you can’t help but feel a bit jealous.

Hmph.

“What’re you sulking for?” His voice has broken you out of a daydream, turning your body to look him in the eyes. The man of the hour— Shouta. You almost hate how quick you are to melt under his gaze, squaring your shoulders with the stability of poorly glued popsicle sticks.“That ball bounce off your head, too?”

“I’m not sulking.” You watch him walk around the perimeter of the shore, slow and calculating, with his hands balled up in the fabric of his black t-shirt. He pulls it overhead, tummy contracting and biceps rippling— it still manages to catch you by surprise, how much muscle he’s hiding under his baggy clothes. Your brain sets off a symphony of ooh’s and ahh’s, unable to tear your gaze from the light rise and fall of his chest.

Your eyes trail back up, past the bend of his collarbones, up the display of stubble on his throat— he’s staring right at you.

“Uh — I wasn’t. . anyway. . What’re you looking at?”

His lips twitch, briefly pressed together before relaxing as he steps into the cold water. He’s slow, hair rippling just as smooth as the ocean, the further he moves forward. And, despite that, he slowly curls a finger to and fro, as if he’s talking to a small kitten. “C’mere.”

You’re frowning when you trudge forward, hesitance in your step. “Mr. Aizawa,” you grumble, still something of a cute little sound, using the prefix your father introduced him with. Something about it makes Shouta’s frame stiffen— the title, or maybe the pettiness behind it. It’s not like you call him that when you’re in a particularly good mood. “You didn’t seem to want me around earlier.”

“Quiet,” He tuts, clicking his tongue as if he knows the game you’re playing. But despite the curt, clean-cut execution of his tone, his thumb finds your cheek with the same gentleness as a spring breeze. “Your parents were always around earlier.”

Oh.

You play off your surprise well enough, swatting his hand away with a deep grunt. Sure, it feels good. His hands on your skin— such rough palms that cover your body — but you’re not desperate. Not entirely, not even when he fixes the twist of your face with a quick look to your furrowed brows. You settle for a sigh, grumbling, “They don’t have shit to do with me.”

“You’re, what, twenty-five—“

“Twenty three.” You interject, almost proud you can correct him. Rivulets of water trail down your arms, and his gaze seems to follow its motion.

“Twenty three,” He echoes with something of a breathless sigh tilting his voice. For a moment you think it’s the interruption— he’ll work on it later. Maybe he’s been struck by just how much younger you really are. “They have everything to do with you. You’re still their kid, I doubt they’d be enthusiastic about leaving you alone with an older man. A stranger, at that.”

“But they did,” You look around, as if to prove your point. Shouta’s never been one for dramatics, let alone those fueled by snappy attitudes and rolling eyes, but it looks cute on you. Maybe even cuter if it were accompanied by tears. “They left us alone. . . Half naked. . . At a beach. . . Alone..”

“I get it. We’re alone,” Shouta’s voice has always been so deep, rumbly and tired and smooth in your ears but even more so when he’s irritated. “Drop the attitude.” It’s different in a way. Leaves no room for argument, though you still feel the overwhelming need to stomp your foot and keep on pressing. You can’t help the shudder, nor the goosebumps crawling up your thighs. It’s just so fun to push his buttons, to watch his passive face twist for a split second as he processes your words.

It’s not exactly hard when he allows it. Shouta lets you push until your heart’s content, only reprimanding you with a glance or cleared throat— and it’s almost eerie. You can’t help but feel

like you should be anticipating something, even as you stand flush against his thick body in lukewarm ocean water and he looks at you with contentment.

Then it occurs to you. . . He’s letting it build up.

“And you’re not a stranger, Mr. Aizawa.” Obviously you’re softening the blows, so he watches you step forward, arms crossed over his thick, plush chest. You’re just so cute, brushing past his overwhelming seriousness with a smile— albeit sly. He can’t stay mad forever. It’s not fair, how cute you are, with lips stretched out and teeth on display, with the apples of your cheeks rising, and the cutest little twinkle in your eye. He wants to kiss you. . . He wants to kiss you so bad it’s starting to hurt.

Especially when you lean forward, sunlight bouncing off the ocean surface and across your body— painting you in pretty, golden slivers of glow. Across your face, your chest, your stomach, your thighs. It’s been a while since he’s felt his skin against your own. Since he’s run his large, calloused hands along your body.

“What happened to ‘Daddy’?” He asks, absentmindedly.

“What?” You break his trance, looking down at yourself with a hint of something Shouta can’t quite place. Uncertainty, perhaps? Vulnerability, maybe. It’s odd, you usually prance around so confidently. You wear the tiniest— tightest— clothes known to man, have the smartest mouth, egg him on day in and day out.

That’s not it. You look smug. You’re playing him for a damn fool.

“Nothing.” Aizawa sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s wrong— it’s cliché, maybe even taboo. He wants to wipe that look off your face. He wants to kiss his best friend’s son stupid. The man he’d just shared parenting advice to, the man he’d spent years upon years of highschool, college, divorces, with. It’d been so innocent when he’d visit— maybe he should’ve never stopped. Maybe he shouldn’t have come back to see you in full bloom, so handsome and lithe and sweet.

“ ‘Nothing,’ ” You echo, snarky as you mimic the flat, detached tone of Shouta’s voice. If you weren’t sulking before you definitely are now, readying yourself to push past him like some spoiled brat who was just denied their favorite candy after being caught trying to steal it nonetheless. So He holds onto your bicep, squeezing the flesh as it flexes with your feeble attempt at struggling.

“Are you done yet? Or do you need a minute to calm down?” He shifts his weight, voice calm and level as he holds you still despite the straining. Not a single hair on him is out of place, his tranquility almost alarming.

“Let go, old man!” He has to ignore the rush of adrenaline the back and forth gives him— the way he has an incessant urge to squeeze your jaw just a bit tighter.

“Hey,” You watch his lips curl to coo, a tone somewhat akin to a parent shushing a fussy child. Your face is turned to face him directly, “How many times do I have to talk to you?” Then impossibly close as his warm breath pans over the expanse of your face, “What’d I say about the attitude?”

“I don’t care what you say about it.” Your face is squished against his palm as you go to squirm your way out of his hold, but with the way his head angles down toward your face— you can barely get the words to sound convincing. There’s a giggle in your voice, like you think his frustration is amusing.“You like it, don’t you? Forget strange, you’re dirty!”

He’s the only thing keeping you upright, eyes narrowed and lidded, “Stop fuckin’ playing with me, little boy.”

“Dad never lets me drive the boat,” Though the man can sense your whining from miles away, it still manages to catch him off guard. Shouta quirks a brow in questioning, hand hovering a polite foot away from your calf as you stand to walk along the wading boat floor. “Destroyed his last one when I was a kid,” (He doesn’t have to know you were actually nineteen when you did.) You speak in a tone that makes him think just maybe you consider it more your father’s fault than your own. “This one’s nicer anyway.”

“That’s wasteful.” Aizawa bites the inside of his cheek, brows furrowed into a familiar line. Had one of his kids done that it’d be a completely different story. Surely one they wouldn’t be proud of telling either. Through the corner of his eye he watches you dig into the cooler, scrabbling past the beer bottles and iced hennessy, to pull out an ice cream.

“To you,” You spare him a glance before finally plopping down in the passenger’s seat with much more force than necessary— especially when sitting on a boat. “I did him a favor.”

The cooler did a poor job— your ice cream is already melted and soft once it’s unwrapped. Thick, velvety cream that you lap up with your tongue dribbles down your knuckles. He should find it gross, but your pretty eyes flickering upward to meet his own as you take one long, slow lick up each bend of your fingers has done the complete opposite. Fuck. It’s hot— your sticky fingers and messy lips, your pinched brows and tiny, pleased whines.

If only it were his cock.

Shouta’s thick. Much thicker than your ice cream, he’s sure you’d feel a good stretch to your lips if you wrapped them around the head of his cock. You’d probably whine about how hard you have to try, how heavy it is on your tongue— how much it’s stuffing you full when it hasn’t even slid down your throat yet. You’d cry too, maybe, with drool slicking your chin and coating his dick in a pretty, shiny layer of thick saliva.

“Want some?” You lean uncomfortably forward, though your legs are over the arms of your seat and draped across Shouta’s lap. Already close, Shouta can smell the oreo on your tongue and vanilla cream by the corner of your lips. “You’re staring pretty hard.”

“Sit up,” The deflection is an answer in itself, yet the dark-haired man can’t find a reason to look away. “Before you hurt yourself.”

Instead, you take his wrist, thick and decorated with a long vein, to fiddle with his fingers. They’re long— healthy, strong, clipped haphazardly— big. He watches you split his fingers apart, lacing your free hand with his own— and though he remains with all five fingers up, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the urge to close them around your much smaller ones. Shouta clears his throat while you hum, lapping at your ice cream before pressing your lips against his knuckles, “Want you to hurt me instead.”

“Hush,” There’s a sharp intake of breath, dark lashes fluttering as multicolored eyes glance past your shoulder. It’s evident he wants to say more— in the way he shifts his weight to lean outward. “You hardly know me.”

Your foot nudges his upper thigh, pressing into the firm skin as the boat moves further toward the horizon. It feels more secluded that way.. Private, even. As if there’s only the two of you left on the dreamy island. Your face looks a bit exasperated, like you’ve never had to work so hard in your life, and he has to admit it— it’s cute.

“I know you grew up with my dad,” He ignores the venom behind your tongue as you mention your father, letting out a low hum of confirmation. “I know you have two kids— adopted, right?”

“Hitoshi and Eri.” He interjects, voice soft and fond. You’d never noticed it before, but now you’re acutely aware of the gentle presence of breeze and rippling waters. Shouta’s relaxed face is much sweeter, still creased with age but not quite as deep. The cute, pinched dips between his brows are gone, but you know how to bring it back.

“Lucky. Wish you were my Daddy instead,” Aizawa isn’t sure which word he’s more hung up on, nor how it's so easy for you to completely twist his words— but as much as it rushes to his cock, gets him twitching in his pants and throbbing all the way down his heavy shaft— he doesn’t like it. You talk entirely too much. With lips much too sweet and sheen with cream. With a tongue that flicks and presses against your teeth when you smile. With a pretty voice he could listen to, all day. Something that’d sound better through choking and gagging—ragged and crackly and used. Your lashes flutter, soft and gentle against your cheek. “How old is Hitoshi? My age? If he takes after you, then. . .You’re just—“

“Listen to me,” Perhaps it’s not very characteristic of him, but he just can’t stop. Shouta moves without thinking, pressing his fingers into your cheeks until your lips are puckered. “For as long as I’m here,” he offers a squeeze. “For as long as your father is here,” then another, “Turn. It. Off.”

Your face melts into something floaty and distant, the smirk melting right off your face into something much more preferable. His thumb is so close, so close to your pretty lips. You blink once— twice, even— before regressing back into a grin, lips pressing against his long fingers. Fucking brat.

“I’ll just have to hit up Hitoshi sometime, then.”

The persistent comment nearly knocks him over, straight off the boat and plummeting into the cerulean depths of the sea. Instead, Shouta finds it better to step on the gas. . . To ignore the prickling heat in his blood, to ignore the easy taptaptap-ing of your fingers against the screen of your phone. It’s so easy for you to say anything around him— like a deliberate disregard for his reaction. His fingers thrum against the tiller, then wrap around its leather exterior to squeeze, and he doesn’t miss (not even for a second) the glance you give him through the corner of your eye.

The silence is almost painful. The motor speaks for you, loud and rushed and heavy. Aizawa’s jaw sets, clenched at each chiseled edge. His eyebrows furrow deep, angry, and his lips remain tightly shut. You can’t help but stare, watching his hair whip in the wind, dreamy and mellifluous. Not a moment of eye contact is shared, and you feel yourself slinking back into the white leather of your chair for the first time this evening.

Come the wooden dock just adjacent to the shoreline, Shouta’s throwing away wrappers (they’re all yours) and unbuckling his seatbelt. Your arms cross, a pout heavy in your lips as your eyes flutter closed. . Almost as if you being unable to see him makes him unable to see you.

“C’mon, baby.” You both miss the nickname, and despite the tension, it feels so natural dripping from his tongue.

Still, you whine. Mind occupied by your nearly offset tantrum prior to getting back at the dock. “I’m staying outside.”

“You’ll get heatstroke.” Shouta sighs, stepping back to lift you into his arms not even a moment later. You consider it ironic, for a moment, he always wears black despite the scorching heat. Bent at the waist as he leans over the open inside of the boat to unbuckle your seatbelt, his face remains stoic as your arms flail and fly to push him away. Your pretty face morphs into a nasty scowl, grumbles and mumbles toppling from your lips— you’re embarrassed.

He sets you down on the creaking wood, hands placed steady at your waist and shoulder to keep you upright— in your feeble attempt at escapism, your last result was simply going limp.

You just won’t budge, standing planted at the end of the dock despite the tugs to your biceps, forearm— hands, wrists. Your last attempt at pushing him away ends up in stumbles, nearly tripping over your own feet as you stomp down the polished dock, eyes hardening with the contact of deep, dark pools in Aizawa’s irises.

You were holding hands.

It’s been days. You haven’t left your room in days. At first, Shouta doesn’t worry. He doesn’t think twice about it, doesn’t question why you don’t come downstairs. When he asks your parents about it it’s always the same thing— ‘That’s just how he is when he doesn’t get his way,’ or ‘He’ll come around.’ The more he asks, the mode suspicion, More questions, mostly wondering why he’s so enamored by their son— even if he had been closer to you when you were younger. But that was long ago, and you hardly remember.

And that isn’t even it.

He starts to worry, to feel bad, on day six. Not a single sound that even points to your presence. No creaking floorboards, no music playing from your old, antique and overpriced record player, no sounds of muffled laughter. It makes him feel out of his skin, like a bystander watching the inhabitants of this very beach house go about their day like nothing is wrong. But this wrong, so very wrong—

He wants you. His boy, his brat, his best friend’s son. It’s wrong and it’s taboo, but so help him, he yearns.

His feet had carried himself upstairs before his mind could, following after you a good half-hour later. You heard him on his way in, the shuffle of his slipper-clad feet from the outside of your door. Still, you’d made no effort to move, no effort to free yourself from the cocoon of your childhood blankets, no effort to open the door despite his gentle knocking.

“You ready to talk yet?” He was willing to brush it all aside. The pushing, the persistent flirting, the slight disregard for his feelings, the mentions of his son. Really, he was jealous. Maybe it’s unsavory for him to admit, maybe he shouldn’t think of his son as competition. And he knows, of course, there’s nothing there— he’s only ever competing with himself. He just can’t help it.

Maybe he’s a bit spoiled too.

“I don’t like being ignored.” Your voice was small, but he could still hear it through the door. He heard it all, every implication. His sweet boy, his spoiled brat. You froze, just briefly, before he let himself in. The door creaked slowly with its open and close, a gentle click of the lock as the air grew thick.

Your old bed is small and creaky. Almost as much as the underused floorboards, your old bedroom screams with just as much personality as it does neglect. There’s tiny figurines, posters, awards, memorabilia— but it’s all too clean. Even if it has collected dust, not a thing is out of place. Pristine. There’s a few scattered photos— awkward haircuts, familial pets, the works. . Unapologetically you, maybe when you were just a tad bit more naive— but you nonetheless. It even smells like you, just with a hint of sea salt and warm, summer-y vanilla. Shouta wants to bury his nose in it.

“None of my fancy college boyfriends liked it here, Maybe ‘Toshi would.” You shift your weight as Shouta sits at the edge of your bed, the springy mattress creaking ever so slightly. There’s something left unsaid between the small string of words— and it’s sour. Twists on Shouta’s tongue, like he’s bitten into old bread, and it’s not just the mention of past boyfriends. Sure, that’s not exactly what he’d call this. . . relationship, but it’s not like it’d feel wrong. And he’d certainly feel bitter if his son were in his shoes. “Guess my sheets weren’t silky enough. Can tell you what was, th—”

“I like it.” It’s simple. The admission— simple and sweet, like it’s obvious. Shouta watches your lips part for a moment, just to close again, like a fish out of water. You look so small when you’re caught off guard, glancing to the side and shifting your weight onto your palms as you sit in the comfy middle of your bed. He knows what you’re doing— redirecting the conversation by flirting (it does get his heart beating, he’ll admit it)— and it makes you seem softer, almost.

He watches you sniffle for a moment, a quiet sound as you shift your knees with exuberating coyness. Your eyebrows furrow, cheeks puffed into a pout because, “That's it? You just ‘ like ’ it?”

He’ll give it to you, you never give up. He’d been warned, he was skeptical, and he’s been proven wrong. And, in the brunette’s head, you’d tallied over three strikes. Perhaps he was being too lenient. And now, Shouta, the weak man that he is, simply wants to indulge.

“What else would I say?”

“That it’s nice,” You cock your head to the side. “That you’ve never seen a room so nice. Which m’sure is true, anyway. . Are you low income, Sho? I can’t imagine what it’s like being a single father of two— or one, since Hitoshi moved out forever ago.”

The older man takes a breath through his nose, and out through his mouth. Pretty irises flicker down to meet the rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose. Then, like the tidal wave of emotion has washed away back into shore, his voice is level as he speaks, “You spoke to him.”

“You ignored me,” You say it as if it’s obvious, simple, that if you can’t have Shouta you’ll have to settle for the next best thing. And though it’s not entirely true, you only really stalked his social media to learn more about his father, you don’t think your heart can stomach seeing pride swell in Aizawa’s chest. “Wanted your attention, Daddy.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath through his teeth, cold air rattling the bones as he watches you stare up at him. Your eyes look softer, boyish, wider at this angle. His pink tongue darts over his equally pink lips, “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“Show me.”

“Shh, sh, sh,” Shouta’s cock slips down your throat with a low grunt, the slippery walls clench around the fat head of his cock. Just as he imagined it, cutting off pretty whines and gasps, head bobbing back and forth— like you can’t tell whether it’s too much or too little. There’s a slight burn— the stretch of his thick, sticky cock nestled against your throat— but it feels good, heavy and throbbing in a way that makes your brain shut off so quickly you drool. It sticks to his shaft and slides down his balls, painting your chin in a syrupy-sweet layer of saliva, but you’re too far gone to wipe it away. Such a good boy.

He must’ve said it aloud, because there you are nodding, lazily bobbing your head as he grinds in and out of your mouth. There’s a loud, sticky sound coming from your throat, squelching and soaked, obscene in a way that makes you whimper around your heavy mouthful of cock. He’s quick to correct himself— you only ever seem to behave when you’re stuffed with his dick, and he can’t have you thinking your behavior is acceptable. With a grunt, deep and velvety, Aizawa pushes deeper into your mouth until you gag— tight throat convulsing and quivering around his shaft.

You slurp loudly, choking and gasping as you struggle to pull back. His balls hit your chin, heavy and sticky and so fucking good as tears stream down your face. You’re starting to get into it now, making a mess of yourself as you stick out your tongue to lick along the prominent vein on the underside of his cock, eyes focused on the rings of saliva holding you together. Shouta pulls out to let you breathe, his cock quickly liding upupup your throat and past your lips until all you can do is whine and lean forward, lips wet with spit as you chase after what you’ve been wanting for the past month.

“Stop fuckin’ moving. Let Daddy use your throat, wanna hear you cry on it,” The bulge of his fat cock shows in your throat, in and out, in and out, in and out.

You want to whine, to beat your fists against his thighs, and kick your feet— it’s all so much. He has you by the hair, big hand pulling and tugging, lifting you on and off his cock like a warm, tight fleshlight. You fail to bite back a growl, though it emits more as a cute, pathetic sound, glassy eyes focused on his cock being shoved down your hot, wet throat. It’s so easy to press your lips against the darkness of his pubes, to smear pre along your pouty lips and cheeks. His cock jumps in your mouth, thick and long and curved, leaking at the tip.

It’s hard to adjust to the stretch, sputtering and gagging with such cute, greedy sounds. You’re getting ahead of yourself, eager, tongue lapping at the achy underside of his dick, pressed against his balls. And, with a gasp, Shouta pulls out, huffs and unintelligible groans filling the air. The blushing head of his cock taps against your cheek. Once, twice, again and again. “C’mere.”

And yet, despite all that bark, your eyes barely make contact with the ones above you. Instead they trace the pulse of his shaft, how heavy his cock hangs between his legs, how it makes his long fingers almost smaller in comparison. The way pre dribbles from the tip, sticky and warm and oh, so inviting. It’s as if he can read your mind, knows how badly you miss the weight of his thick cock stretching your throat, “You can do better than that," and you almost can't believe it.

Better? Your eyes flicker to the saliva dripping from your chin, suddenly aware of the slick pre smeared across your pretty cheeks and the heavy pants leaving your lips. What gets better than this? You let him use your throat like a new fleshlight, cried on his cock and muffled the sounds in his pubes. Ignored the aching of your own cock just to focus on his own, absentmindedly bucking your hips into nothing, even if it made you look like a pathetic puppy. Fine— you can show him better. You can break him first.

You blink rapidly, tears clumped in your pretty eyelashes, lips parting to, indubitably, sass the older man. “What, need help gettin’ it up? Fuck you, can do it m—”

Prideful boy. Shouta will have to fix that.

“— I wasn’t asking.” You really fucked up now, eyes wide as you’re lifted up by your throat and manhandled into Shouta’s strong arms. He smells good, and just as strong, as your face is pressed into his chest and your tiny, tiny shorts are pushed past your thighs. The air is cold, it spreads goosebumps along your skin, and you’re sure Shouta can feel them along his palm as he grabs handfuls of your ass. He ignores your off guard ‘Hey! I wasn’t done!’, ignores the squirm of your waist, ignores your poor, weeping cock.

Being the smooth, calculated man that he is, you’d expect Aizawa to put a rhythm and pace to his spankings. But no, there’s nothing for you to latch onto but the bundles of his hair as he hands out sporadic, random, and hard smacks along each globe of your ass. There is no back and forth, no favoring one over the other— it’s just where he wants, when he wants. If he wants to watch your thighs convulse and jiggle beneath his heavy palm he will, and if he wants to smack your hands away from his wrists as you tug and tug— he will.

Shouta groans when you let out a particularly pathetic cry, biting your lip and whimpering into his warm skin. You can feel his big hands part your cheeks, squeezing the skin until it spills over each finger and your ass has turned tender and sensitive. He coos, feeling you squirm and wriggle against his hold, “S’it too much? Daddy’s poor baby.”

It shouldn’t sound so sweet coming from his lips, even when it’s condescending and rough, even when he’s cracking his palm down again and again despite your kicks and squeals.

But it does.

“Da—ddy. . !” your voice quivers, hips rocking to an uncoordinated tune. So little contact and yet it feels like so much, his hot palms against your warm skin. . . The tears rolling down your darling face. . . The way your cock throbs against your tummy, your mouth aches with emptiness, your hole twitches beneath the weight of his fingers. The thought makes you want to whine all over again, body squirming and trembling as he holds and kneads the flesh of your ass.

“Quiet. I should shove my fingers down your throat to shut you up,” Shouta murmurs, so unnecessarily mean, kissing the dampness of your forehead before his hand cracks down against your plush ass three, four, five more times. You try to keep up your resolve, pretty legs trembling and knuckles clenching— but it’s just so hard. Being a brat is easy— it’s fun— you’ll give up a few tears, cry and pout, get your way. Easy. So you won’t break and give him what he wants. He’ll have to work for it, get a taste of his own mean, mean medicine.

Delayed gratification.

Wet llips open to speak, something smug and almost smart, but it’s reduced to a wet moan. You feel it—fingers spreading apart the globes of your ass, and more cracking down between them, on your empty, pretty little hole. For a moment your brain slips out of your body, thoughts static and turned to mush, fuzzy and convulsing where you lay. You process the sound of hushing, the feeling of wetness, the sound of slick spit against your skin. . . Thick, merciless fingers rubbing and tapping and sliding against you.

“Oh, god,” You sob, eyes fluttering shut and eyebrows pinching the second more pressure builds and— oh, a finger slips inside. “Fingers— that’s, oh god..” Inching in slowly, rubbing against your velvety walls and so fucking slick you’re beginning to see stars. Whatever you had your mind set on earlier flies straight out the window, your brain short circuits as your sopping hole flutters around his fingers, sucking them in.

“Fuck, baby, look at you clench on Daddy’s fingers. Want Daddy to finger-fuck this cute little cunt silly?” If you could see his face you’re sure he’d be smiling— an eerie thing, eyes trained on his fingers getting sucked back into you. Such a needy boy. “C’mon, say it. Tell Daddy you want his big fingers in your sweet, greedy little pussy.”

You can’t help it, hole throbbing rhythmically along his long fingers, squelching and gushing with stickiness. The swell of your ass ripples as you wiggle your hips, rising and falling to grindgrindgrind. “Fuck me already, c’mon, old man.”

“That what your little ‘boyfriends’ do?” Your lip quivers— he hadn't even flinched at the sass— and instead used your own words against you. “Oh, baby. They didn’t give that little boycunt the attention he needed, hm? That why you throw so many tantrums?”

Your hand finds his wrist, fingers wrapping around thick and strong limp just enough to get his hand moving, trying to guide him deeper, faster, harder. He should reward bratty behavior, but the words spill from his mouth almost immediately, “That’s it, just needed something to fill you up, nice and full.”

It’s ironic— he says it just before pulling out his soaked fingers. And, at your nightstand, opens the drawer to retrieve lube. You watch him pause, eyes scanning the contents of the drawer until his lips quirk downward. Lollipop wrappers. An ungodly amount— you really went on a hunger strike because he ignored you? For six whole days?

“What am I gonna do with you.” He sighs, but grabs a sucker regardless, tearing open its pretty, pastel blue packaging to reveal its red, shiny hard candy. He pops the treat into his mouth, holds it on the right side with his teeth, and squirts a generous amount of lube over the globes of your ass. His hands slip and slide as he guides it around, watches it dribble down your thighs and relishes in the way your hole opens up for him, soaked and sticky.

Your eyebrows pinch, hips wiggling as he pulls the lollipop free from his mouth and directs it against your own, “Suck,” He murmurs, but it’s forced past your lips before you can process the demand. Here come more tears, burning your nose as you hiccup out a tiny, overwhelmed, “Daddy?”

“It’s okay, I’m here,” He coos, circling the pad of his thumb along the rim of your hole. Even as your feet instinctively kick, there’s no reaction from him, just a pleased hum. “Keep sucking, atta boy.”

His thumb feels like a lot, makes you squeal and shiver as he presses it inside, and something hot and wet accompanies it. That's good, the heat of his tongue licking and sucking at your throbbing rim, bubbly spit dribbling down his chin and caught in his stubble. One hand is focused on fucking your boyhole raw, till your brain goes numb and you’re incoherent. His palm presses into the small of your ass, tongue working hard until your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, and your mouth flies open in a silent scream. He takes the opportunity to snatch the lollipop back, keeps his tongue pressed against your walls until—

He trails the glossy sphere of the candy down to your sloppy little hole, nudging and prodding until he slowly works the lollipop inside. “You can take it,” He growls, eyes trained on your fucked-out face. He can feel it, the tightening of your balls, the way your hole aches and pulses with the treat inside you. “That’s it, sweet thing. Wanna make this pussy cum, give it t’me. Let Daddy have it..”

He murmurs, and suddenly, instead of the treat that he’s popping back into his mouth, there’s the head of his perfectly thick, so big, cock pressing against your slick, thoroughly fucked-out hole and—

Oh.

“Sweet.”

You sob into nothing, back arching and spongy walls clinging down on Shouta’s cock as it’s worked inch by inch into you and— you can’t fucking believe it. You fought for so long, put on a bratty attitude and stomped your feet. Why would you ever push Shouta and his cock away for so long? Your breaths are short. Tiny little gasps as his large hands grip your ankles, spreading your legs open to get a better view of the thick dick pumping you full. Your pretty little hole, sheen with spit and lube, exposed and on display for him and his cock. And, yeah, this is everything you’ve ever wanted and more. . . You want him to break you.

“You’re— fuck, you’re so gross, Daddy,” Shouta grits his teeth, “Ohh, havin’ your best friend’s son on your fat cock, fuckin’ my pussy so full. . !” You’re straight up babbling, cross-eyed as each thrust knocks coherent thoughts out your brain. A real, proper slut, desperately humping upupup to fuck yourself on his dick. With this position— knees to your ears and holes on display, you barely have the control to move— but it’s cute to watch you try anyway.

“Shut up and take it,” He rasps, voice deep and scratchy in a harsh whisper as his hips snap back and forth. “Don’t want mommy and daddy to hear their son calling someone else daddy, do you?”

“Daddy— Daddy, my pussy—“ You’re babbling, it’s all you can do since Shouta is all force with his thrusts; takes what he needs, feeds you his cock good and so, so deep. Over and over, you let out broken whines, desperate for it, looking down as best you can to watch your own cock bob and jump against your tummy, thighs sticky with spit and lube. You can hear the sound of your slutty, pathetic moans, the wet plaplaplap of skin, lube trailing and frothing between your bodies as Shouta fucks into you. You can’t stop twitching— your legs, your hole, your cock.

“This is Daddy’s pussy,” He corrects, angling his hips just right, the heat of his cock pressing against every special spot you’ve got. Every bundle of nerves, every silky, spongy wall you’ve got wrapped around him. “Just like that,” You’re gagging for it, pouty lips parting with open-mouthed pants as he continues to watch your hole tighten around his thick, veiny cock. He has to swallow down his own drool, reaching deeper into you, your body jerking back as he pounds, and pounds, and pounds. You may not be a good boy, but you’re a damn good slut.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh. . .” Your breath is caught in your throat, and if you could, you’d scream, your body tensing as your cock throbs and bounces, cum spraying across your bare chest — stickiness shooting out your spent cock until you’re twitching, handsfree and body set ablaze. Shouta shows no signs of stopping, instead keeping his cock inside you as he flips you around, eyes narrowed. He fucks you through it, watching more cum squirt from your cock, leaky hole milking him for all he’s got.

“Dumb sluts love cock, baby. S’that what you are?” His voice is a low purr, pressing your face into the mattress, watching your ass fall back onto his cock until he feels himself aching hard, hard enough to start cumming inside you.

“Yeah, mhmm,” You drool into your pillow, absentmindedly fucking yourself back onto him. You’re desperate to chase after it, the searing spiral of pressure growing in your stomach, tight hole bearing down on his cock. “Daddy’s slut, s’me!” For a minute you think you’ve passed out, everything going dark as you ride out his hard thrusts, offering tiny movements of your own, up and down to satiate the erratic spasming of your hole, to feel his balls slap against your thighs.

“Good sluts take Daddy’s cum,” Your eyes, so glassy and empty, is what gets him, groaning loud as he pumps a load inside you. “Take it, boy. Let Daddy knock you up.” It’s messy, and downright pornographic watching his cum leak out of you, just for him to fuck it back in with the head of his dick. Shouta’s cum starts to kiss your insides and spurt straight onto that small bundle of nerves— fuck, it’s so deep. His thrusts are erratic and sloppy, thick rope after thick rope frothing around his shaft as he fucks it deeper inside. You never want it to stop, not the groaning or moaning, not the filthy sounds, not the cum filling up your hole till you can’t move.

He ignores your needy, overstimulated whines when he pulls out completely, his spent cock hanging heavy between his thighs. Even when you’re limp and boneless, body trembling violently, you want more.

“Da— Da—ddy,” You sob, eyes squeezed shut as strong arms pull you up and into even stronger thighs. Sitting on his lap now, Shouta coos hums, basks in the sight of his pretty boy’s afterglow.

“Daddy’s here. I’m here, I got you.” He whispers into your shoulder, and that’s all you need to hear. The thought of his best friend melts away— you’re more than that. You’re not just his best friend’s son. . .

You’re Shouta’s boy.

Summer is coming to an end.

There’s a seasonal chill in the air and it’s getting dark in the early afternoon. The beach has switched its course, currents changing direction and fish disappearing from the shoreline. The weather is turning, branches are starting to grow bare and bloom in color, the wind picks up, and the clouds have yet to dissipate into the sky. . Shouta helps you pack, grumbles when you press chaste kisses against his skin the whole time— shuts down the stomps of your feet while you whine, “I don’t wanna leave.”

“Spring break,” Is all Shouta says, his mismatched eyes downcast in a way that highlights his long, pretty eyelashes. Then, voice barely audible, he whispers, “I don’t want you to, either.”

Your body visibly straightens, giddiness painting your boyish face as you smile wide and big. The older man almost regrets saying it, huffing with you lean impossible close to hug him tight. “Will you call me?”

“Whenever you want,” He says, as if it’s the most simple thing in the world. You watch as he throws your large bag of lollipops into your carry-on backpack, but not before plucking a treat free from the others. “You know I will.”

And that’s all you need to hear.

[beautifulsenpai]

I WILL NEVER LET YOU LEAVE ME - 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗑 𝗉𝗋𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

˚₊‧꒰ა chapter 1 - the start and all might ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

- cw | 𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽, 𝗉𝗋𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗒, 𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗉 (𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝟤𝟢)

- characters | 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗂 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝗈𝗋𝗈𝗄𝗂, 𝗄𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖺𝗆𝗂, 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍𝖺 𝖺𝗂𝗓𝖺𝗐𝖺, 𝗀𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖺, 𝗏𝗅𝖺𝖽 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗍

- summary | (𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾), 𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗉𝗋𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗈 𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗈 𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗂𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖾. 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒. 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗈. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆, 𝗇𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆.

- male reader’s quirk | 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 - 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗋𝗄 𝗎𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌, 𝗏𝖾𝗀𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝖾𝗍𝖼. 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗌 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌.

(name) didn’t think it’d be this easy to adjust to being a new pro hero in japan. (name’s) outstanding quirk and good looks made him quickly rise to the top 10 heroes. all of this made him very nervous, he barely started, and he’s already at the top! how exciting! and such a young age to start as a pro hero, at age 20.

it was truly an honor to fight alongside other heroes, especially the heroes that he grew up watching fighting and saving japan from reckless villains. endeavor and all might was the biggest inspiration for him to be a hero, and now fighting alongside them was thrilling.

(name) was surprised how easily was to get along with the other heroes, especially with endeavor. they were super friendly! a little too friendly if you ask me! (name) didn’t think they were so affectionate from behind the camera. they would give out heartwarming compliments and suddenly would get touchy.

(name) didn’t mind it at first, they were his idols after all, but it started to get a bit unsettling. they would stare at (name) for too long, they would touch him inappropriately, some would be there near him when he didn’t want them to be, and would glare at anyone who would stare or would be too close to (name).

all of this was too much for (name), it was kind at first, but this was too much kindness. (name) thought if being a pro hero wasn’t as enjoyable as it sound, or looks to be. was all of this worth it to be a hero?

ೀ 🍨 ‧ ˚ 🎀 ⊹˚. ♡

“there you have it folks! (name) (last name), known as flower maiden has protected the civilians of (random district name) from a violent thief! such an amazing hero!”, a woman news reporter gushed with a hint of blush on her cheeks from watching the handsome hero capture a thug.

the thief hung upside down, trying to wiggle out of the grasp of (name’s) quirk. thick vines were securely wrapped around the thug’s buddy, who threw curses at the young hero. it fell deaf onto (name’s) ears as he dusted off the filth that plastered onto him. (name) glanced at his adoring fans, and adorable children who admire him deeply.

“he’s so awesome!”

“papa! mama! i want to be like him when i’m a hero!”

“he’s so beautiful!”

“he’s way out of my league..”

“such a goddess!”

those compliments made (name) feel giddy. he loves his devoted fans very much. he chuckled, his eyes closed, smiling widely as he waved at the crowd. imaginary arrows shot at their hearts as their faces turned bright red from his tender smile. there was a particular retired hero in the crowd, witnessing the whole show.

it was all might. he watched how (name) defeated the criminal with such ease. it made him fall in love with (name) even more. he scooted through the crowd, trying to get close to (name) as soon as possible. “(name)!”, all might call out in the crowd. (name) halted his movements as his smile faded away, he looked at the crowd, trying to find the source.

(name) smile quickly came back as his eyes lit up when he saw all might push through the crowd with a smile. it was heartbreaking when all might retired when (name) transformed into a hero, he couldn’t battle with one of his idols, but was happy, at least he was making one of his fellow colleagues proud.

“greetings all might!”, (name) laughed. all night came up to (name) very quickly, (name) didn’t even notice. suddenly, (name) eyes widen slightly and lets out a cute yelp as all might surprisingly lift (name) onto his shoulders.

it surprised (name) since all might wasn’t as strong anymore, and he was scrawny and physically weak. (name’s) rear sat on all might’s shoulder as his arm wrapped around (name’s) legs, making sure he wouldn’t accidentally slip out of his grasp.

all might face the crowd, still holding onto (name). all might do his iconic smile as his eyes were shut. the crowd went wild, fans were gushing at the sight of the heroes getting along. (name) didn’t mind as his eyes shut closed, and smiled warmly.

all might felt overjoyed as he get to touch (name). the crowd died down as some people wandered away from the area. the crook was apprehended by officers, and he was quickly taken away. much to all might’s dismay, he softly held onto (name’s) hips and gently set him down on his feet.

(name) appreciated the nice gesture. he hasn’t gotten used to pro heroes being close friends, with the soft touching of his peers, makes him feel happy. “so all might! to what do i owe the pleasure?”, (name) exclaimed with a smile afterward. all might’s face turned completely red from what he was going to ask him.

all might avoid (name’s) gaze while playing with his fingers. “w-well, young midoriya and i will be going out for l-lunch to celebrate his quirk training. maybe y-you’ll like to j-join us?”, all might stuttered, he cringed from hearing himself stutter like that.

(name) never heard all might stutter like that, he thought he sounded silly, resulting him to chuckle. “gosh, i would be honored but unfortunately, i have to get some work done in my agency! maybe next time!” (name) reassured, his eyes closed as he scratched his neck nervously. he would be delighted to have lunch with all might if he wasn’t so busy.

all might smile dropped as his eyes widened from shock, he was upset. this was his chance to get even closer to (name), even get him in bed but his stupid hero work was getting in the way. “i-i understand..”, all might mutter. “but let me at least drive you there!”, all might insist, his face flushed as his eyes lit up from thinking about dropping (name) off at his agency.

that sounded romantic to him! (name) blinked, head tipped to the side. his eyes shut as he thought about it, it’ll be nice since he wouldn’t have to walk to the agency. (name) smiled as his arm rested on his hip, “that’ll be nice!”, (name) beamed.

ೀ 🍨 ‧ ˚ 🎀 ⊹˚. ♡

the ride to the agency was silent, but it was a comfortable silence. (name) stared right out the window, watching the passing vehicles, and buildings while all might was driving the vehicles, not taking his eyes off the road. (name) gently closed his eyes as he sighed softly.

“god, you have no idea how amazing you are”, all might purred. (name) eyes shot open, he stared at the road ahead of him, what was all might talking about. “pardon me?”, (name) questioned.

“all i’m saying (name) is that you’re so intelligent, strong, and so adorable!” all might gush, his face blushing as he placed one of his hands on (name’s) thigh as the other was gripping onto the steering wheel. (name’s) eyes widened as he flinched. all might start rubbing up, and down on (name’s) thigh, (name) forced a smile while sweating bullets.

(name) started trembling, what was this man doing, and what was he saying? he was talking nonsense. why was he saying all of this now? was it that they were both alone together? whatever it is, (name) did not want all might’s hand caress touching.

“i-i don’t know what to say all might..”, (name) muttered as he continued to stare ahead, he did not know what to say, but all might did. “i love you so much (name), you have no idea to what limits i’d go to prove that to you”, he dreamily sighed as he hand slowly crept more upwards to (name’s) privates.

luckily, luck was on (name’s) side. he quickly hopped off the car when the car halted in front of (name’s) agency, and shut the door shut. (name’s eyes were still wide, he was fighting back tears, his brows drew together as his breathing was shaky and weak. he couldn’t believe what had happened.

as (name) was about to head inside his agency, he halted when he heard the passenger window roll down. “i’ll give you a call to schedule our lunch together!”, all might shout inside the car with excitement in his voice. (name) turned his head to the side, eyes shut, he forced another smile as he nodded.

“s-sure thing! i’ll be waiting!”, (name) stuttered nervously through his white teeth. all might smirk at (name’s) response, did (name) really mean that? did he? the passenger door’s window rolled up. (name) heard the car start, and the next thing you know, the car drove away into the busy streets, leaving (name) there in his own thoughts.

such a weird man..

the last part was rushed, sorry that it’s not good!

[bloody-night]

Midnight sweats

Aizawa Shouta x reader

you and your husband finally have time together

nsfw

Aizawa was always in U.A. either grading papers or teaching, helping his students who only he could control best. You were a known hero around Japan, working everyday to maintain a reputation as you climbed to make it to the pro heroes.

You both never had time to be together, only once in a while you’d have a few minutes or sometimes an hour or more to spend time with your darling love. Paying Aizawa a visit with gifts or food, maybe also to chat and catch up.

Until recently you finally had a day off, paying a visit to your dear husband.

The dorms for Class 1-A were empty, the students were still with the pro heroes working by their side. The building was ominously quiet, that is until the sounds of the bed creaking and the headboard hitting the wall loudly could be heard throughout the building.

“Fuck���” Aizawa huffed loudly, his teeth biting his pillow, wetting it with drool, his hands gripping the sheets. Your thrusts weren’t helping him think, that way your hips snapped onto his, his ass recoiling from the way you thrusted so roughly inside him.

“You love me fucking you like this?” You asked, chuckling breathlessly before continuing to fuck him in place. Your hand pushing his face onto the pillow, fingers gripping his long hair. Your other hand groping his ass, occasionally giving it a slap. Aizawa would let out a groan of pain, but immediately moan afterwards from your thrusting. The smacking of his cock hitting against his stomach as it leaked sticky pre-cum, it made him slightly embarrassed, though those thoughts were pushed back as you gave him a life time of a fucking.

His ass was up, back arched beautifully as you fucked him eagerly, hungry for him, hungry for his hole and warm insides. You groaned as you leaned down, hands moving to press down and lower your husbands’s ass, before holding his hips in place, keeping them still as you fucked him like your living and tight fleshlight. Your teeth latched onto his shoulder, before quickening your pace. Practically pounding him at this point. You behaved like a feral wolf, eager to fuck and breed Aizawa. It was well deserved after months without being together like this.

Your husband moved his head to the side, moaning loudly as your cock was thick and long enough to reach his sweet spot. Tears pricked his dry eyes, before squeezing them shut. “Fuck… keep fucking me, please..” He whispered desperately. His body covered in glistening sweat, seemingly glowing as the moonlight shone on him. He was so hungry for you, he missed you so much, he missed your touch, your gaze, especially your fat cock that fucked him dumb.

Aizawa whimpered as he felt you quicken your thrusts more, pounding his insides, literally reaching his guts and arranging them, making Shouta breathless with each thrust you gave him.

His face was red, drool escaping his lips and pupils blown from so much lust. You pulled away from him shoulder, leaving it bruised and drooled on, before grunting loudly. “‘M gonna fill you up so good, so fucking good you’ll remember about me everyday when you feel your ass leak with my cum.” You promised him, gripping his hips harder, earning a hiss from him.

Your thrusts were rough, before finally giving a final one, warm cum covering your husband’s walls. Shouta gasped before he himself also came, his dick spurting out ropes of milky cum, audible grunts coming out his throat. Aizawa whimpered as he felt you fill him up, also feeling your dick twitch inside him.

You huffed, both of you trying to regain your breathing, chests rising and lowering frantically. Aizawa sighed as he tried moving, before feeling you thrust again, starting out slow. “W-wait… you’re going again?” He asked, his eyes wide, staring at you through his hair.

“I told you I’m going to leave you full, you’re gonna bare my children, you’re going to be fucked dumb my love.” You whispered into his ear, earning a silent whimper from him.

Aizawa was screaming at this point, his voice pitch high as he cried. You weren’t letting go of his hips and you were frantic about breeding this man. “That’s it baby, scream all you want, tell everyone how good I’m fucking my husband.” You whispered, kissing his sweaty neck. Aizawa whimpered as he sobbed, tears streaming down his face as drool escaped past his lips. His own cock was red and swelled up from all the moments he came, it was still standing and releasing needy beads of pre cum.

You were practically sandwiching Shouta between the bed and you, your figure giving him so much warmth. Your cock pounded his insides, his hand feeling it poke through his skin, it was so overwhelming it made him tremble.

This was the ninth or tenth round, you were sure tired but this final load you were about to release was coming close. “I’m close baby, I’m close.” You whispered, latching your teeth onto his neck so tightly, afraid that if you let go you’ll lose him.

Your canines dug deep into Aizawa’s skin, it made him bleed a bit. Your husband groaned so eagerly, loving the stinging feeling you gave him as he felt your tongue lick his blood. He felt your hands arch his lower back, before drilling your cock into him one more time, loud moans of pleasure and pain left him throat, his hand gripping his pillow.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!” He released a string of curses, before curling his toes and letting out a long and dragged out moan, releasing onto his already stained sheets. Shouta’s body shook as you continued, before not long after you finished inside him a final time. You panted as you stayed still, filling up your endearing husband, hearing him whimper quietly.

“That’s it baby, take in my kids, you’re gonna be a great husband for me, a holder of my kids, a vessel.” You whispered, keeping your dick in him before laying behind him, your hand feeling his tummy. “You will remember me better this way, when I’m gone for heroic reasons, you’ll have my cum as a reminder of what I’ll do to you when I’m free.” You whispered into his ear, earning a groan from him, before feeling you move his hair out of the way to make access of his neck, kissing and sucking on it.

“Thanks.. but you ruined my chance of walking for a couple of days..” He mumbled, panting quietly. “Oh please, you can take sick days.” You let out a chuckle, continuing to care for him. “Right… I hope they don’t worry about me.” He sarcastically said, rolling his eyes that you sensed without seeing him.

You both stayed silent, stayed still as you held him close to you, naked bodies pressed against each other as your cock was warm snuggled deep inside Aizawa.

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up, baby.” You whispered,

before hearing a faint snore.

[boykisser4]

Tangled Souls

pairing: demon!Shōta Aizawa x male!reader, nsfw/dc so minors begone

warnings: male reader, smut, monsterfucking, biting, slight blood play, tailfucking, multiple orgasms, male masturbation, breeding kink, creampie, degradation, reader is a virgin but it's not central to the plot

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: your mother has always told you to be wary of the woods. Boys get lost in there, only to wind up dead, their bodies and faces twisted in pleasure and agony. you've followed that rule diligently your entire life—only to find that belief shaken when a beautiful demon appears on your doorstep in need of your help.

In the quiet town of Shibuya, nestled between the bustling neon lights and the whispering whispers of the ever-expanding urban sprawl, there was a rumor as old as the cobblestone streets themselves. It spoke of a set of ancient woods that lay just beyond the outskirts, a place where the line between reality and the supernatural grew as thin as a thread. The townsfolk had long ago learned to keep their children close and their doors locked when the moon was high, for it was said that the forest was a playground for creatures that were better left to the imagination.

You, a young man on the cusp of adulthood, had heard the stories countless times. Each time, your mother's voice grew a little more tremulous, her eyes a shade darker with fear. Yet, as you grew older, the whispers of the woods grew louder, beckoning you with secrets and promises of adventure. One evening, as the sun dipped low, casting long shadows that danced with the sway of the autumn leaves, you found yourself standing at the edge of the forest, your heart thudding a rhythm that echoed through the trees.

The demon that appeared before you was not what you had expected. He was not the monstrous creature of your nightmares, but rather a being of such ethereal beauty that it seemed as if the moon itself had taken human form. Shōta Aizawa, a man with sharp, angular features and hair as black as the abyss, emerged from the shadows with a grace that seemed to defy the very fabric of reality. His eyes, piercing and red, bore into yours with an intensity that made your knees wobble and your breath hitch in your throat.

He spoke to you, his voice a velvety caress that seemed to wrap around your very soul. "I am lost," he said, his words tinged with a hint of desperation. "Can you help me find my way?" There was something in his gaze that made you feel as if you could trust him, despite the whispers of your mother's warnings. Without a second thought, you nodded, and together you stepped into the enigmatic embrace of the woods that had called to you for so long.

The journey was a blur of moonlit paths and whispers of leaves that seemed to carry secrets of their own. Aizawa walked with purpose, his tail swishing gently behind him as if it had a mind of its own. You couldn't help but feel drawn to him, as if there was an invisible thread connecting the two of you. As the night grew deeper, you began to feel a warmth building in your loins, a need that you had never experienced before. It was as if the very air was thick with a scent that called to your most primal instincts.

You stumbled upon a clearing, the light of the moon casting a silver glow upon the dewy grass. Aizawa paused, his eyes scanning the area before they settled on you, a smirk playing upon his lips. "You're brave," he murmured, his voice a low purr that sent shivers down your spine. "But I require more than just your guidance." He stepped closer, his tail curling around your leg, sending waves of pleasure through your body. "I need...companionship."

The air grew thick with tension as he reached out and cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. You felt yourself lean into his touch, your body betraying your mind's attempt at rational thought. He leaned down, his breath hot against your neck, and whispered, "I can give you what you've been craving, if you let me." His teeth grazed your skin, and you felt a sharp sting followed by a pulse of exquisite pleasure that had you gasping. It was then that you realized the extent of your folly—you had entered the demon's domain, and now you were his to claim.

The smirk on Aizawa's face grew wider as he stepped closer, his body pressing against yours. You could feel the heat emanating from him, a stark contrast to the coolness of the night air. His tail slithered upwards, coiling around your waist before it dipped lower, teasing the fabric of your pants. Your cheeks flushed with both arousal and embarrassment as you felt yourself growing hard against his thigh. He chuckled darkly, his hand moving to cup your erection firmly, his claws digging into your skin just enough to make you wince.

"You're so eager," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "But before I give you what you want, you must do something for me." His grip tightened, and you whimpered, the pain adding to the confusing mix of emotions swirling within you. "You must accept me—all of me," he continued, his other hand moving to the base of his tail, revealing the swollen tip. It was then that you understood the full extent of what he was asking for—what he needed.

With a flick of his tail, he unzipped your pants, pulling them down along with your underwear. The cool breeze kissed your exposed skin, making you shiver. He knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours as he took you in his mouth, the sensation so foreign yet so intoxicating that you couldn't help but moan. His tongue danced around the head of your cock, teasing the slit before taking you deeper. You watched, entranced, as he swallowed you whole, his eyes fluttering shut in pleasure.

The demon's tail slid between your legs, the tip probing at your entrance. You felt a moment of fear, but it was quickly overwhelmed by the all-consuming need that had taken root in your core. He pushed in gently, the sensation of his tail entering you unlike anything you had ever felt before. The pain was there, but it was muted by the sheer ecstasy that flooded your body with each thrust. His mouth never left your cock, sucking and licking as he claimed you, his tail moving in rhythm with his mouth.

The pleasure built, wave upon wave, until you could no longer hold back. You came with a cry that was part pleasure, part fear, your seed spilling into his eager mouth. Aizawa pulled back, licking his lips with a satisfied smirk. "Now," he purred, his tail still buried deep inside you, "we are truly connected." He began to move again, his tail working in tandem with his mouth, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of another orgasm.

You felt yourself being filled, the pressure inside you growing unbearable. His tail swelled, and with one final, powerful thrust, he released his own essence deep within you. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt before—a mix of pleasure and pain that left you trembling and gasping for air. As he pulled away, his tail slipped out of you with a wet sound, leaving you feeling both empty and utterly claimed.

Breathless, you looked down at him, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "You are mine now," he said, his voice a dark promise. "And together, we will uncover the secrets of the night." With that, he rose to his feet, pulling you along with him. The woods seemed to close in around you, the whispers of the trees growing louder as you took your first steps into a new, darker chapter of your life.

The moon cast a cold, pale light over the clearing as Aizawa led you deeper into the woods. The sounds of the night grew more sinister, more alluring, with each step you took. You were no longer the same person who had ventured into the forest; you were now a part of it, bound to this demon in a way that transcended simple companionship.

The demon's hand was a vice around your wrist, guiding you through the underbrush with a sense of urgency that sent your heart racing. His eyes gleamed with excitement, his sharp teeth bared in a predatory smile that made your stomach twist in anticipation. You knew that there was no turning back now—you had made a deal with the creature of the night, and you would see it through to the end.

As you stumbled through the woods, the air grew thick with the scent of lust and power. It was a heady perfume that seemed to coat every leaf and branch, making your head spin. Aizawa's grip on your wrist was the only thing keeping you grounded, a reminder of the bargain you had struck.

The clearing grew wider, revealing a hidden grotto bathed in an eerie blue light. The walls were slick with moisture, and the ground beneath your feet was soft and yielding. Aizawa pushed you against one of the damp walls, his eyes burning with desire. His hand snaked down to your now-bare cock, stroking it back to life with a skill that seemed otherworldly.

"You're mine now," he whispered, his breath hot against your neck. "And I will take you, in every way imaginable." His tail slithered around your waist again, this time with more urgency, the tip grazing your throbbing member. "But first, you must learn to crave it."

With that, he sank to his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. He took your cock in his mouth once more, sucking and licking with an intensity that had you bucking your hips against the cold stone. His claws dug into your thighs, leaving trails of fire in their wake, but the pain only served to heighten the pleasure. His tongue flicked against your slit, tasting the pre-cum that beaded there, and you couldn't help but moan his name.

The demon's tail grew more insistent, sliding between your cheeks to press against your tight hole once again. You felt yourself opening up to him, your body betraying your fear and welcoming the intrusion. He pushed in, the feeling of fullness making your eyes roll back in your head. His movements grew faster, his mouth and tail working in perfect harmony to drive you to the brink of insanity.

The walls of the grotto seemed to pulse with an ancient power, the very air vibrating with it. You could feel it in your bones, a call to the darkness that now lived within you. The demon's eyes glowed brighter as he brought you closer to the edge, his tail swelling even more within you.

You came again, your body convulsing with the force of your climax. Aizawa's tail pumped into you, filling you with his essence as he swallowed down your seed. The world around you spun, colors swirling and colliding as the power of the woods claimed you fully.

As the aftershocks of pleasure subsided, you slumped against the wall, panting and spent. Aizawa's tail slid out of you with a wet sound, leaving you feeling both violated and oddly satisfied. He stood, his own arousal evident in the bulge of his pants. "Now," he said, his voice a low growl, "it's time for you to truly understand what it means to be with a demon."

Without another word, he tore open his own pants, revealing his engorged cock. It was monstrous, a twisted mix of human and demonic, and it throbbed with an unnatural hunger. You stared, both terrified and fascinated by the creature before you.

He stepped closer, his claws digging into your hips as he lifted you off the ground. "You will take me," he growled, his eyes never leaving yours. "And you will scream my name as I claim you."

You had no choice but to comply, your body responding to his command even as your mind rebelled. He positioned you, your legs wrapped around his waist, and with one powerful thrust, he filled you completely. The pain was exquisite, a scream ripping from your throat as he pushed deeper, stretching you beyond what you thought possible.

His movements were relentless, his hips pistoning into you as his claws raked down your back. The demon's teeth grazed your neck, the promise of a bite that would seal your fate hanging in the air. The pleasure and pain melded together, creating a symphony of sensation that had you begging for more.

With each thrust, you felt yourself slipping further into the abyss, the boundaries between reality and the supernatural blurring. The whispers of the woods grew louder, echoing the chant of your name on Aizawa's lips.

And as he claimed you, as his teeth sank into your flesh, you felt a transformation begin. Your vision swam with the taste of iron as your blood mingled with his saliva. Your nails grew sharp, your skin prickling with the beginnings of a furious power that seemed to resonate with the very earth beneath you. The demon's cock filled you to the brim, each movement sending shockwaves through your body. You could feel yourself changing, evolving into something more, something primal and dark.

The bite grew deeper, and the pain subsided, replaced by a white-hot need that consumed every part of your being. You bucked against him, desperate for more, for the release that only he could give you. His hips met yours with a ferocity that had you seeing stars, his claws digging into your skin as he held you in place. The demon's breath was hot and ragged in your ear, his voice a snarl as he whispered sweet, dark promises of eternal pleasure and power.

The ground beneath you trembled as your climax approached, the trees around you seeming to lean in closer as if to witness your fall from grace. The creature inside of you grew stronger, its hunger matching that of the demon who claimed you. Your body was no longer your own, a mere vessel for the dark desires that now ruled you.

With a final, brutal thrust, Aizawa came within you, his seed mixing with the power of the bite. You felt it, a fire spreading through your veins, setting your very soul alight. You howled, the sound echoing through the woods, a declaration of your new allegiance. The demon pulled away, his teeth releasing your skin, and you slumped in his arms, panting and trembling with the aftershocks of your transformation.

[adabird]

-MHA TEACHER’S + HERO’S

-PREFERENCESES + HEADCANNONS

Within the following story, there may be PROGRESSIVE or NSFW moments. Please be aware, you are responsible for your own internet consumption.

MDI

I was thinking about doing like LOV members preferences and headcannons!

ALSO thinking about writing singular headcannons for mha teachers? LET ME KNOW!

SHOTA AIZAWA - ERASERHEAD

-THICK THIGHS-

Shota is really into thick thighs.. He especially gets feral after a long day at work, when he’s come home to see you in panties and his t-shirt.. because you ‘missed him too much’ while he was away.. He’s always taking the seat next to you, needing and squishing your thighs while he talks. He also enjoys it whenever you sit infront of him, facing him while you drag your stocking clad feet up his legs.. Drives him ABSOLUTELY insane whenever he’s driving and you take one of his hands, into one of yours placing it on your thighs while caressing one of his fingers. And don’t even get started when you start to feel a little insecure. PAL. HE LOVESSSS your thighs so NO, he’s not going to leave you and he doesn’t want you to change. AT ALL!! you’re his baby ❤️

HAZASHI YAMANDA - PRESENTMIC

-BUBBLE BUTT-

Hazashi is freakyyyyy. Like, he’ll invite you to his studio while he’s recording, just to have you sit on his lap. shh you can’t make any noise though! He loves to look at your butt, admiring you, telling you that ‘it was looking at him first’ that’s why he was practically eye-fucking you.. (WOW MB) Anywho! He also loves pinching your butt whenever you two are in elevators, walking up stairs, standing next to each other, literally anytime.. He’s always on you or touching you, even in non-sexual ways. He’s just that kind of person, and that’s how he shows his love for you ❤️

TOSHINORI YAGI - ALLMIGHT

-TINY BOOBS-

Toshinori really has a size kink. LIKE. No matter how gigantic your jugs are, or how tall you are, you’ll look small standing next to him. And he also really has a thing for hands 😻.. LIKE! He’s always guiding you through walkways or hallways with a hand on your shoulders.. If you ever have makeout sessions he’s sure to lift you up, having you stratal his hips while he pushes you up to the nearest wall. AND BRO. I really feel like he has a secret wife/husband. AKA YOU. You would walk into U.A., going to his office to find him becuase ‘he forgot his lunch this morning’. It was really just a plan to have all his kids meet you. He’s also the one to get really horny really easily!! Especially if you run your hands through his hair..❤️

NEMURI KAYAMA - MIDNIGHT

-LIPS-

GIRL. GIRL. GIRL. GIRL. She’s always got some part of her, touching you. She’s the type of person to just sit there and admire the way you talk, watching as your lips change shape to form whatever story you’re telling at the moment. She loves watching the blush crawl up your neck after she crashed your face into hers, pushing you to make out with her. She also gets jealous really easily, which causes her to constantly grab at your hips and neck.

RUMI USAGIYAMA - MIRKO

-ARMS-

OKAY! Rumi is definitely the dominant one in the relationship.. She has a thing for arms, but her own..? Like she loves wrapping you into hugs, tugging you into her like a pillow. She’s also really into your confidence.. The number one thing she enjoys to do with her arms would probably be pushing you up a wall while making out. It gets you both really turned on and gets the situation all steamy.. Before the two of you started your relationship, and were ‘just friends’ she was really into cornering you in the bathroom stalls, before making her way to kiss up your neck. (IN A CONSENSUAL WAY!!!) ❤️

TAMAKI KEIGO - HAWKS

-HIPS-

Keigo is really like a bird, so when his ruts come up, he has to consider your body, in terms of, ‘are you able to hold his baby’s’ ‘are your hip’s wide enough’ ‘are your hips narrow enough’ ‘do you want little birdies’? all really good questions. But he really loves to hold and to kiss your hips. Whether they’re wide, narrow, or if they carry love handles or not.. He doesn’t care! He loves YOU and your body, no matter what! He’s definitely always searching for your validation, and he’s always grooming himself to your standerds.. He makes sure you take care of yourself too , and are always feeling comfortable in your own skin..❤️

TAISHRIO TOYOMITSU - FATGUM

-TUMMY-

GAWD!!! My man, my man.. OKAY! Taishiro is really all about body positivity, and imidetly attracted to someone with a funny personality. Personally, I believe he tends to find chubby, and thicker people more attractive! But, he does go for personality!!! So dont be discouraged! He really likes laying on your tummy, and squeezing it.. He makes sure you love your body too! and makes sure you feel confident in your own skin! He eats a lot, and so will you.. But he also makes sure that you feel safe whenever you go out. He’s definitely the type of walk on the outside of the sidewalk, and the type to take the seat faced by the door in case of any attacks! ❤️

I hope you enjoyed! And PLEASE!!! Message me any ideas for any MHA characters you would like to see!! I don’t judge!

Later tonight I will be releasing a Monoma x Reader reaction! So stay tuned!

- ONIE OUT!

[slutfactory]

: ̗̀➛ shouta aizawa thirst !

[cw// m!reader, heavily implied erasermic, adultery, slutty aizawa.]

alright, so aizawa being a cheating bastard—going from spur of the moment, to when/wherever possible.

it wasn't aizawa's intention at first, but after having sex with you for the first time, he felt.. dissatisfied with his husband's performance. now, it wasn't that hizashi was bad in bed, it was just that he was too vanilla for shouta's (newfound) tastes. after experiencing being fucked like a cheap whore, he found himself wanting more.

hizashi, who had no knowledge of this, asked if you could come over to fix the washing machine while he went out to do god knows what, and that shouta would let you in.

you of course fixed the appliance with relative ease, but before you left, you had to claim your payment for your services. aizawa was so quick to submit to your advances, it was almost enough to make you feel bad for his husband. almost.

effortlessly bending the pro hero over the newly fixed washing machine and making him beg and cry for you to breed him like the cheating slut he was,, it felt quite nice. even more so, to just leave him a cum filled mess against the washer as you took your money and left.

shouta made sure to dispose of all the evidence of your encounter before hizashi returned home. hizashi, the poor bastard, was of course still oblivious, but he did find it strange that aizawa's legs were trembling slightly.

[simping-overload]

ᴀ/ɴ: getting back into mha! If anyone wants to commison a fic dm me <3

ᴛᴀɢꜱ: fluff, cuddling, headcanons, all comfort no angst. not proof read

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: gang orca(kugo sakamata), hawks(keigo takami), hound dog(ryo inui), miriko(rumi usagiyama), eraserhead (shota aziawa), gunhead

ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: ヾthis is a multi-fandom blog that is designed for mlm/nbmlm identifying readers! so if you're female or fem, she/her, she/they please do not follow or interact with my mlm related post!! Please respect this! ゛

kugo is rather reserved when it comes to affection, unsure of how to ask for it, and hopes you can simply pick up on hints. cuddling with you brings great comfort to him, especially when you're the one holding him. he's a little spoon all the way, regardless if you're smaller than him. he can find himself sleeping like a baby whenever it's you holding him. However, he likes holding you, too. lay your head on his chest as he rubs soothing circles on your back to lul you to sleep. he likes intertwing his hands with yours as he sleeps, for him its a very grounding and comforting feeling.

keigo clings. as soon as you lay next to him, he's latching onto you. curling his arms and wings around you and keeping you there. he's not picky when it comes to positions, but he really likes laying on top of you. due to his wings, he's a natural stomach sleeper, and resting on your chest is both comfortable and convenient for his wings. the mix of your heartbeat and you running your hand through his hair makes him sleep like a baby. he whines a lot when you try and pry him off, in the mornings he always tries to keep you in bed with him.

ryo loves cuddling, anytime, anywhere. he's, unironically, a lap dog. he's quick to make himself comfortable in your lap, whether he'd be sitting fully in it or laying down. your electricity bill is unbelievably high due to the fact he's an absolute heat box. having ac on is a requirement, especially during the summer. during the winter months, he's your savings grace in the cold. he's a big fan of spooning. curling his large body around you and nuzzling his snout in your hair. his arms as strong as they are very comfortable pillows to hold onto as you sleep. oh, and watch out for the drool.

rumi is a cuddle bunny and likes being held. she likes resting her head in between the hallow of your neck and shoulder, her strong arms curled around your torso. Hsr grip on you is like iron, and unless she's awake, she won't let go. you'd often find yourself carrying her around in the mornings since you literally can't pry her off. she'll wake up once you start cooking, though. she is a vivid dreamer, and her body is reactive when she's in a deep sleep. more often than not she'll accidentally kick or hit you while she sleeps. she apologizes for it in the morning. she likes to cuddle under loads of blankets with you, as hot as it gets its very comfortable.

shota loves to sleep, so it'd make sense he loves to cuddle, too. despite his complaining, he likes waking up in the morning, your arms and legs entangled around each other. he runs cold when he sleeps and loves spooking you awake with his cold hands or feet. shota likes to sleep facing you, waking up to your face is his favoriate thing ever. he likes holding you, embracing you in his arms holding you tight to his chest. his grip is surprisingly strong but its easy to break out of with a few tugs. when its his nap time snf your around he'll simply drape himself over you, whether hes in his sleeping bag or not.

gunhead is a cuddle monster, he loves pyshsical affection with you in general. he likse holding you when he reads, letting you rest on him with his hand on your hip, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. not picky about sleeping positions at all, its not like you'd wake up in the same spot anyway. sleeping with him is comfortable but chaotic as he moves often. its often that he wakes up drapped over your stomach or torso. hes another heatbox man but- its mostly bearable in contrast to the others. he's like warm spring heat, somewhere right in the middle of being hot and cold. his arms are the most comfortable things ever.

[eightballspins]

(๑>؂•̀๑) how they act when they're drunk

pairing : p1harmony x male reader

rating : fluffy and comedy bc im funny <3

requested : yes !!! thank u for ur request <3 plss dont b afraid to send me some more, no matter who or if its ot6 (it just might take me a thousand years...) i love getting requests sm hehe

warnings : obvs mention of alcohol and being intoxicated

ᯓᡣ𐭩 yoon keeho

i see keeho as an EMOTIONAL DRUNK, like incredibly vocal about everything he is feeling at all times. he acts just like an incredibly clingy, emotional drunk that won’t get off of you. we already know how touchy he is when hes sober (rip jiung LMAO), imagine that when he’s 1. super sensitive 2. constantly wanting to feel love from you, his boyfriend, and 3. incredibly vocal about everything but especially — wanting to physical touch from you. you’d probably have to reason with him for twenty minutes why you need to leave him for twenty seconds just to piss.

“kyo, i need to pee so bad, i don’t think you get it,”

“no! you don’t get how, if you leave me here, i’ll die. i’ll seriously die. i think i’ll stop breathing or something.”

“that won’t happen.”

“you won’t know that for sure until it happens — and then what?!”

you eventually have to settle for bringing him into the bathroom where he has the right mind to just stand in the corner in silence while you do your business. it’s a really funny sight, his head hanging low and an obvious pout on his lips.

“i feel like” is the beginning of a lot of his sentences where he proceeds to explain everything he is feeling about everything in grand detail. it’s a cute thing he does, but sometimes you do have to cut him off because he has zero filter and could possibly end up offending someone (”i feel like that girl’s boyfriend right across the couch from us, that’s staring right at us, with the really ugly outfit is really, really, ugl-” “oh! wow, shouldn’t you be drinking some more water, kyo? hahah…”)

he apologizes several times throughout the night for being so bothersome, but really, it’s not that big of a deal. just because you have to listen to him ramble for a little longer than usual and sometimes choose your words more carefully, but it really isn’t as if it’s the end of the world. just be sure to reassure him at the end of the night that you didn’t mind keeping him company and stuff and he’ll be a happy man.

“i’m sorry for being so much when i’m drunk…and always saying i won’t get drunk like this again,” he whispers softly, his hand playing with your fingers as your sat in the now quiet living space. you retract your hand from his, moving it to play with his loose strands of hair.

“it’s okay, i don’t really mind, y’know? i’ll always be here,” your smile melts his heart and for some reason he starts crying.

“i just love you so much and i don’t know what i did to deserve you, you’re the perfect boyfriend and i’m just here crying, i’m sorry,” his sobs get progressively louder and it takes everything in you to not chuckle at his abnormally emotional self. you just comfort him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear until he properly calms down into an eventual nap.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 choi taeyang

i think theo is the type of drunk to either go COMPLETELY SILENT or COMPLETELY YAP someone’s ear off. he already has so much to say when he’s sober (he’s so funny i love him), so when he’s drunk, that either gets amplified to a million or completely shut down. the night could look like you constantly asking him if he’s okay as he stares off into the void or you having to constantly stop him from causing a really messy altercation with his unfiltered opinions. he acts like a complete prince to you, though, trust he will bat his eyes all pretty and pretend as if he didn’t just insult a person to filth right in front of you.

on the nights where he goes silent, you have to constantly just nudge him and ask if he’s okay. he looks up at you with wide, blank and slowly nods his head, which makes you reiterate your question, and he does the same thing. it’s a little bit scary how quiet and to himself he gets, but at least you don’t have worry about him bouncing off the walls idk. if he ever needs help with something or just wants your attention, he will just tug on you or your clothes, literally being silent the entire time.

feeling a lazy hand pull on yours, you turn to taeyang and raise your brows in question. he motions over to the bottle of water in his hands (that he had gotten himself when you weren’t looking) and makes a twisting motion with his freehand. obviously, you comply, opening the water bottle for him and handing it over without question.

“you feeling okay?” you ask softly, sitting next to him and brushing his hair aside. he nods after gulping down the water, leaning against your shoulder and taking a deep breath. he’s so mellowed out like this that he falls asleep on your shoulder and stays like that until he wakes. he goes to sleep thankful that he has such a patient boyfriend and a smile on his face, his hand reaching for and holding yours before he knocks out.

on the other hand, if you’re dealing with the loud and chaotic taeyang, i wish you all the best…this man is a straight menace. there is a high chance he could end up pissing off the wrong person at some point of the night and you need to drag him out of a situation before it gets really bad. he’s a very straightforward man, obviously, but when he’s sober he has a filter most of the time and knows the right time and place. when he’s drunk, that differentiation he has for that goes out the window.

“why did you wear those pants and shirt, they’re ugly together.” he says frankly to a drunk keeho, whose face scrunches up at the blatant insult and looks as if he is about to cry, which taeyang then eggs on, “wait don’t cry, that’d be really sad if the reason you were to cry is because of your own decision,”

“taeyang, enough! oh my god,” you say, pulling him away from the keeho who was now curled up on the floor and clutching his clothes.

“oh, hi, baby,” he grins and throws an arm around your shoulder, dragging you down immensely with his weight, “i didn’t see you there,” a cheesy line he says almost every time he’s drunk, “do you like my outfit today? i chose it with you in mind,” he blows you a kiss and you have to hold yourself back from smooshing his face with your hand.

“just shh, please, before you say something so cheesy-”

“woah! that girl’s boyfriend is really ugly! should we help her? do you think he’s holding her hostage?!” his loud, booming voice fills the room and it takes everything in you to not abandon him there to fend for himself.

immediately, you bow to the couple and say quick apologies and move to hopefully move taeyang away from the scene. but he just puts more gasoline on the fire by kindly saying, “miss, do you need help? put the number three up if that strange man is bothering you!”

“taeyang, please, shut up!”

ᯓᡣ𐭩 choi jiung

oh my god jiung gets really PHILOSOPHICAL, like really philosophical. and he gets a little sappy, but most of the time he reels it in before he gets overly emotional. out of nowhere, he’ll ask you the most complex moral questions or things about the universe and fate and stuff like that, then immediately follow it up with, “oh, well, whatever :D” as if he didn’t just make you rethink your life choices. but it ends up being a sweet behavior of his because it somehow ends with him bashfully praising you and being explicitly very thankful for the relationship the two of you have.

“i read somewhere,” he starts and you knew that you were in for a rough one, “that some people believe that they’re connected with their soulmate through an invisible red string. have you ever heard of that?”

“i have,”

“do you believe in it?”

“…i don’t know, that’s a really complex subject — fate and stuff,”

he shrugs, looking onward at seemingly nothing, “i don’t think it’s that believable but then i think about us and i start to believe in stuff like that,” there’s a long pause before he says, “but also, i think fate isn’t completely responsible for us meeting. i don’t know how to explain it, but i don’t want to give all the credit of our relationship to something like fate — i feel like we’re more than that, y’know?”

his question leaves you contemplating everything about your relationship, trying to think like jiung and imagine.

“if people believe that there is a string connecting them to their soulmate, they probably would leave everything up to fate and not actively search for their soulmate, right? i don’t think that was the case with me — well, i wasn’t always trying to find someone for me, but i don’t…hm, i don’t know how to word it. what do you think?”

“i think…” there’s silence as you think about how to formulate your words, settling on, “i just know i love you, jiung, it shouldn’t be that complicated.”

he processes your words for a couple of seconds before laughing as if you had said the funniest thing in the world. the type of laugh that makes him drop his jaw and release gasps for air from how hard he was laughing. his hand was now holding yours and he’s squeezing as if his life depends on it.

“you’re right,” he manages in between gasps of air, “you’re right. i love you too, that’s enough,” he drops his head into your shoulder where he hums in content, “yes, i should just think about how lucky i am to even have you — no matter how it happened or what the chances were because that doesn’t matter now. what matters now is that we are now together,” he links your pinkies together, grinning wide like a child, “i love it, how we’re so connected.”

“by that string you were talking about?” you tease, making him shake his head.

“no, just how we work together and how you love me and how i love you,”

his heartfelt words and unusually very sincere considering his current state, but you accept them with a genuine smile and knocking of his forehead against yours. a drunk man’s words are his sober thoughts, or however the saying goes.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 hwang intak

intak…he’s so funny bruh. he’s an ENTERTAINER drunk, the party guy that ends up getting all the attention, but really that wasn’t his end goal. he’s definitely the type to pretend to want all the attention on him, but really he just wants to impress you…even though you’re already dating…he wants to be the only one you look at and will put on a show in order for that to happen.

someone was urgently calling your name, following it up with your boyfriends and something about the pool. obviously, concerned for his safety, you drop everything and rush to the backyard where the pool was.

“oh, there he is,” intak cheers, walking over and picking you up with his strong arms, “i was wondering where my baby was,” he’s sloppily kissing your cheek after that comment and grinning ear to ear the entire time.

“what’s going on? are you alright?” you ask, immediately concerned for his health.

“i’m fine, are you okay?” he shoots back, tilting his head to the side with a pout, “you feel good?”

“i feel great, but someone said something about you and a pool so i came running as soon as i heard,” you explained, taking in the scene and realizing that there were now people eagerly awaiting something.

“oh! that’s nothing!” he cheerfully says, booping your nose with his finger, “mr. worry over here, huh? that shows how much you love me, y’know?” he begins dragging you off to go inside, but someone from the surrounding crowd shouts.

“wait, intak!! you said you’d hold your breath underwater for two minutes! come on, man, i already bet money that you’d be able to!!”

intak grins ear to ear, not at all bothered by the person shouting, “oh! i’m not doing that anymore, sorrryyy!!” his apology is elongated with his voice dragging out the last syllable.

“what?! you can’t do that!”

“i just did — pfttt!” he sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry before completely dragging you inside and into the house, “babe, wanna watch me stuff three cupcakes in my mouth?” he curiously asks, which you obviously deny in fear of his wellbeing (three cupcakes? he’d definitely choke on them and you were not aware of how to do the Heimlich maneuver).

“no, it’s okay intak,” you politely decline, making your way to the icebox that hopefully has spare waterbottles.

“did you know i could drink an entire water bottle in under seven seconds? here, let me show you-”

“no, no, it’s okay intak,” you repeat, grabbing his hand that was reaching for the bottle and putting it back to his side, “just drink the water normally okay?”

his eyes are just full of so much love, slightly tinged red, with his naturally red blushing cheeks and he obediently nods yes.

“yesss, sirrr!” he chants, going to drink the water at a normal pace.

after sitting down for a couple of seconds, you begin scanning the room for any free space you two could occupy. but intak interprets it as you losing interest in him so he says something drastic to get your attention again, “wanna see me do a backflip off the counter? i finally learned how to! (he did not.)”

“no, it’s okay, intak,” you repeat once more, smoothing out his hair and smiling softly at him. “how about i watch you get comfortable on the couch over there where you can take a breather?”

“well, as long as you watch me,” he agrees, a carefree smile on his face as he lets you guide him to the couch.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 haku shota

shota just likes sticking by your side when he’s drunk, a SILENT CLINGY drunk. hes an introverted extrovert so he only really wants to be near someone that he feels completely comfortable with, which at the top of that list would be you. he hangs by your side, almost completely silent. and when he isn’t silent, it’s the quietest random noises that he makes to get your attention.

“do you want some more water?” you ask your boyfriend, noticing that he was now nursing an empty water bottle. his big dark eyes look up at you and he nods his head in confirmation. you stand up to get the beverage and he follows suit, shooting up out of his sitting position and clinging to your arm as you navigate through the crowd.

it’s funny too because when he’s drunk he has a really weird and unexplainable possessive streak??? he is still silent when showing that possessiveness, so it really just looks and sounds like a jealous puppy that is following you around and trying to keep as many strangers away from you as possible. it’s cute since its incredibly harmless and it doesn’t warner any scolding or quick apologies from you whenever he does show any territorial behavior, instead you just look at his cute annoyed expression and appease him.

on the way to get his water, there was someone in the crowd that had recognized you and wanted to catch up. not seeing a problem with that, because there really isn’t any in the first place, you obliged and began chatting with them. it was a friendly convo, the person even greeting the silent shota by your side, but the man didn’t acknowledge them. after explaining how your boyfriend was a little out of it due to his intoxication, the person nodded in understanding. and shota thought that that would be the end of it…to his immense displeasure, the person didn’t leave you guys alone. and he was starting to feel more and more annoyed at their presence. he wrapped his hand around yours and squeezed tight enough that it got your attention. finally having your eyes on him, he batted his eyes at you innocently and motioned over to the empty water bottle you were still holding. remembering why you had even gotten up in the first place, you excuse yourself and soul from the conversation, which made smile in accomplishment.

“thank you,” he quietly whispers after accepting the water from you, leaning in for a soft kiss. you smile at his gentle behavior, immediately kissing back and then pulling away to let him drink some. he eagerly looks around like a lost puppy, as if he’s trying to find something. and just as you’re about to question him, he puts his head down in defeat and simply drinks.

“what was that?” you chuckle, bringing him in closer and smiling at his now slightly wet lips and sparkling eyes.

“nothing,” he says, leaning in for several more pecks in a row — which you obviously comply to. his clingy behavior and craving for your lips against his doesn’t falter at all through the night, but no one is complaining.

(he was trying to see if the person that was “bothering” you two earlier had seen the two of you be all lovey-dovey, but he couldn’t find them in the crowd)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 kim jongseob

jongseob is so funny when he’s drunk in the sense he’s a YAPPING and CLINGY mess, but SHYYY at the same time. at the beginning of the night, it isn’t that bad, to be honest. he’s capable of taking care of himself and standing on his own (literally and figuratively lmao) and even engaging in coherent conversation with others, but after a while he just wants to talk to you. yes, he’s still talking (probably about anything and everything too), but he just wants to stick by your side. oh, he’s also a really big blushing mess — acting like you guys are in middle school all over again and it's your first day as an officla couple, sometimes forgets you guys are actually dating and it’s not just a one sided crush (poor seobie lmao)

you and jongseob were sitting on the sidelines of the party. close enough that your legs were touching each others, but definitely not super cuddly on top of each other. your boyfriend was talking on and on about a vast variety of topics, sounding as if he was speaking in tongue twisters, but you really were trying your hardest to keep up. you were looking forward, but after hearing him stutter over his words a little, you turned to look towards him.

unsurprisingly, his eyes were already watching you and when you made eye contact he ducked his head down and began fiddling with his fingers. it was adorable, but it made you confused because ? did you have something on your face? or was he just not feeling good because the alcohol was catching up to him.

“you alright, babe?” his cheeks go ablaze at the pet name, but he aggressively nods his head to prove that he was fine.

“you wanna keep telling me about the progress of your island in animal crossing, then? i was really invested, y’know?” you grin and scoot closer to him, putting your arm around his seat and getting more comfortable.

“you were listening?” he asks quietly, hyper aware that your bodies were now much closer and you were leaning into him.

“of course i was, seob,” you answer easily, sighing in content. jongseob shyly holds your hand and moves closer to you, his face feeling as if it were going to explode from how hard he was blushing. he’s acting as if you haven’t been dating for the longest time.

give the two of you ten minutes uninterrupted and you’ll find jongseob shamelessly holding you close as he mutters mindless nothings as a way of staying awake. you offer several times to just go home, but he stubbornly argues that you two are too comfortable too move.

“i really like your eyes,” he says, studying your face and then pursing his lips, “but your nose is also really nice…and your lips, even your ears…unfair,” he sighs, dropping his head to rest on the couch cushion to his left as he faces you head on. you laugh at what seems to be a very serious dilemma for him, running your hand up and down his arm.

“what are you talking about, seob? you’re the prettiest guy i know, much prettier and more handsome than me,” you compliment to lift his spirits, but obviously all the sincerity is still there, “especially your smile,”

he buries his head into the cushion and you swear you hear him scream (?), but the music surrounding you guys could be making you delusional (you’re not he really did scream).

your boyfriend continues being a shy mess for as long as he’s drunk then begs for you to forget everything he said and how he acted when he’s sobered up because he’s so embarrassed.

[enbyenvy666]

i just can't

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

based on something i discovered about myself recently 🤭

CONTENT WARNINGS - 18+ MDNI, gn!reader x various, vibrator, reader takes medication (brief implication of poor mental health), reader has trouble coming, no beta we die like men w/c - 0.4k

“I told you, I can’t cum.”

It felt like it was the umpteenth you had to repeat yourself. You loved your partner, you truly did, and you knew he was coming from a good place when he asked you if you finished. He just wanted you to feel as good as you made him, but you couldn’t through no fault of your own. It was a medication you had taken for years, one of the side effects being the inability to orgasm. Sure, it was frustrating at times but it was a necessary evil in exchange for better mental health.

“Are you sure?” He would ask again, already reaching down to touch between your thighs. 

“Yes, I’m sure,” you would always respond, silencing his next argument with a kiss. “You still made me feel amazing baby.”

It was always sweet of him to try, you had rubbed yourself raw many times before, but it was all in vain. That was until he came home and proudly presented a vibrator. It was shaped like a long bullet and hot pink in colour, by twisting the bottom of it the vibrations became stronger, and despite its simplistic design, the way it strongly buzzed in your hand had you impressed. 

Eager to use it, he quickly had you on the bed, naked and moaning. The stretch of his cock had a familiar feeling burning inside you, but you never wanted him to stop. He almost got lost in the moment, fucking into your tight hole and savouring your sweet whimpers made him forget his goal. On the lowest setting, he ran the vibrator over your nipples, giving you a taste of what was to come—down your belly and between your thighs, touching it to every sensitive spot on your sex.

Every jolt of pleasure the toy sent through you had your back arching, tightening around his fat cock still thrusting inside your slick hole. Feeling you squeeze him particularly tight, he held the vibrator on that bundle of nerves that had you breathless, nails clawing down his back. Before you even realised what had happened, you were crying his name as your body tensed and legs shook, feeling as if something in your core snapped and released, your body now sticky with your cum.

His hips stilled, still balls deep inside your guts, and drew the vibrator away, staring down at you with wide eyes. Your eyes were equally as wide, panting to catch your breath. His lips stretched into a smirk, keeping his eyes locked with yours and he turned the vibrator up, bringing it back between your legs. 

It was time to make up for all those years. 

𓍊𓋼𓆏𓋼𓍊 Katsuki Bakugo, Eijiro Kirishima, Izuku Midoriya, Dabi, Hawks, Shota Aizawa, Shoto Todoroki, Lucifer (OM), Satan (OM), Mammon (OM), Solomon (OM), Diavolo (OM), Lucifer Morningstar (HH), Asmodeus (HB)

[dabisbratz]

PLAY DATE (CHERRY)— aizawa shouta x male reader

wc: ~6.5k

cw: dilf!aizawa, babysitter!reader, sexual tension, slow burn, spanking/impact play, finger-sucking, d/s undertones, daddy kink, praise, manhandling, age gap (21 yr old reader, 41 yr old aizawa), porn with plot, size difference/kink, spit/drool, degradation, rimming, hand holding, full nelson, creampie, breeding kink, light feminization

a/n: yes i was listenin to lana while writin this! howd u know?!

The click of a mouse. The sound of a scroll wheel grinding against plastic— rubbery and restricted. A family of five, four, three..family oriented individuals with more kids on their hands than time. It was late, even for you. Who scoured the internet until the sky’s inky black atmosphere was painted a pacific blue. From there, you’d tend to sleep into the late hours of the evening, beneath the comfort of a heavy weighted blanket, until your phone went off or a nightmare pulled you from your slumber.

Your dry, tired eyes trace the blurry words of your computer screen, the bright white light beaming through the depths of your continuously darkening bedroom. The room is almost radio silent— save for the occasional crunching of chips between your teeth and the fan of your laptop working overtime. The text is almost hard to read, shying away behind a hazy glare.

‘One kid—6 year old girl. One pet— black bombay cat.’

Sounds promising. The letters are arranged in a blunt manner, straight to the point and even somewhat intimidating, but the clear boundaries and requirements listed are fair enough.. Maybe even tilted in your favor. Your cursor wanders, ready to further inspect the profile presumed to belong to the parent who created the listing.

Shouta Aizawa, a middle-aged man with a salt and pepper beard, long hair to match, and a distinctive scar below his eye— which looks milky and clear. The other, however, is a deep pool of brown, warm like melted chocolate. His irises melt into his long lashes, which remain straight and strict, much like the demeanor he emits in the headshot photo. It must be reminiscent of his ID, as his career is listed just below his picture.

Owner of Eraserhead Industries.

Huh.

Chewing the fleshy insides of your cheeks, your eyes dart across the screen, hesitantly inching the cursor over the bright, bolded ‘message’ button. Sparks ignite in your stomach, blooming in the expanse of your tummy as you type out,

‘When can I start?’

You hear yourself squeal, pushing away your mouse with your fingertips and hiding behind the warmth of your palms before your computer chimes in response. The message stares back at you, perforating into you as you read it over and over, trying to imagine how this—practicably— rich man would sound. You settle for a deep voice, giggling to yourself as you read out the message.

‘The sooner the better.’

The man is much scarier in person, and your imitation of his voice was nowhere near accurate.

His voice is much deeper than you thought, gravelly and not nearly as riddled with giggles like you’d tacked on. In fact, it only seems to deepen as he nurses a mug of black coffee, just one large hand completely shielding the cup in its entirety. He’d ordered it, busying himself with the sheets of paper he had placed upon the polished table as you explained just how much whipped cream you’d wanted in your milkshake to the waitress.

He takes up most of the space on his side of the booth in the homely café, his layers discarded and shed along the plush seating. The man with dark eyes, Shouta Aizawa, is a natural born leader. The physical embodiment of sticks and stones, seemingly stronger than Zeus himself, he seems to have no faults.

But that’s not what you should be focusing on, not now, when you’re preoccupied with narrowed, umber eyes. They look at you with nothing but impenetrable suspicion, remarkably intimidating despite belonging to someone who looks incredibly angelic. Tufts of frosty hair, unruly and disheveled and divine. The sun dawns down on Musutafu, framing his locks in a makeshift halo. He looks like a fallen angel, of sorts.

“I don’t trust my kids with other kids,” He says, watching the dark amalgamation of caffeine swirl in his porcelain cup. Does he consider his cat to be his kid, too? “How old are you?”

You perk up, straightening your back as you push your straw in and out of your sickeningly sweet milkshake. Whipped cream clings to the plastic, sticky and bubbly with foam, “Twenty-one, sir.”

Aizawa makes a face at that, steely eyes drooping further with the pinch of his dark eyebrows. They slot perfectly, intricate wrinkles firming between them. Did you… fuck it up? You’d consider yourself an adult— comparable to law, anyway. And you can be mature, especially when it counts, so there shouldn’t really be a problem!

It’s evident he loves his kids, despite the hard exterior that he’s showing off there’s a fatherly glint to his eye. A protective overlay to his words. It’s admirable, if anything. You’d even call it charming, the way his eyes bore into you from the outside-in and pick you apart, if it wasn’t so damn scary being on the receiving end.

“Do you drink?”

“…No?”

“Do you plan to?”

More of an interrogation than anything, you take an awfully long time to reply as you use his suspension as an opportunity to savor your milkshake.

“No.”

You make sure to sound more confident this time.

His questions have been asked before, over text and in a manner not as… blunt as you hear it now. But it’s all down to perception, and you’d managed to wrongfully pin Shouta Aizawa as a care-free, laid back guy. Though, from the looks of it, he seems to live up to the ladder. And, upon closer inspection, it does nothing to tarnish his looks.

“Mm,” Is all he says, humming in acknowledgment as a check is placed his way. “You’re young.”

“Young enough to be your son?” You ask, mouth faster than your brain, and suddenly you can’t stop. Your lips curl upward, a smile gracing your lips as you giggle, “People probably think you’re my sugar daddy or somethin’.”

He doesn’t seem to completely respond to that, letting the comment fly into the air as he shifts. Heat somersaults into your face, heating your body up until you find yourself unable to hold eye contact. Nice going.

You wrap your lips around the plump cherry slowly sinking into your drink, twirling the stem between your teeth. It explodes in your mouth, sharp and sweet along the expanse of your tongue, a nice distraction.

Something alien flickers behind his eyes, “Tech savvy?”

“I— Yeah! I play video games,” You almost forget this is an interview, not a date. The thought makes your brain a little fuzzy, cotton forming in your mouth as you stumble over your answer. “Not— Y'know, never on the clock.”

Shouta looks much more vulnerable with his head turned, his veiny hand reaching into the pocket of his inky pants, pulling out an equally dark credit card. No way. His handwriting is illegible, but the swooning waitress deems it acceptable, thanking him for the tip with a high blush on her cheeks. There isn’t a single ring on his calloused fingers, so it’s almost shocking he doesn’t jump at the opportunity

“Good. Eri likes games.” It’s the most praise you’ve heard all night, and hearing it from the deep rumble of his throat makes it even better. Your gaze must linger, because his dark eyes are staring back into yours, almost looking right through you.

“Eri? Your daughter?”

“I don’t like sharing personal information online.”

You laugh nervously, filling your mouth with the melting drink before he can comment.

“I—Woah, sir… your home is… beautiful.” It’s not just flattery, you genuinely, sincerely mean it. You’ve seen it before, sure, through text and under much more professional scrutiny, but the camera doesn’t do it justice. His house aches with love, wrapped up in kisses and enveloped in a sweet, cinnamon-scented embrace.

There’s a heavy amount of childish memorabilia, like crayon drawings hung up on his stainless steel fridge, miscellaneous toys littering the floor, and a pair of tiny shoes resting next to your own. They look comically small, glittery and pink and utterly, indubitably, reminiscent of a six year old girl. Especially in comparison to the sleek, black sneakers Shouta slips off next to them. Utterly, indubitably, reminiscent of a forty-one year old man.

Aizawa makes his way through the living room while you marvel in astonishment, taking in the sights of his house. Surprisingly, despite his not-so-settle display of wealth, his home is the opposite. It’s the real thing, with lived-in floors and comfy furniture..lively and bright. Sure, his sofa is a muted gray, but the portraits and polaroids and children’s drawings make up for it.

You follow along, nearly tripping over some misplaced barbies and action figures as you quickly remove your shoes and stumble forward. Like a newborn fawn, unfamiliar to its own legs, you walk forward with a bashful smile.

It was almost easy for you to forget that he’s human, and not some strong-willed work-machine designed to finish tasks and take care of children.

But the way his joints pop when he shifts a certain way, the way sweat trickles down his forehead after a long day of working in a stuffy office, proves otherwise. It was then, you realize, that he is all flesh and bones. Not pen ink or an indestructible force.

“Eri’s… picky. Try exposing her to different foods every now and then, there’s a list of recipes she likes on the fridge.”

Shouta’s leaning against the marble of his open-island kitchen, socked feet melting into the cold tile. You half-expected his socks to be just as dark as his clothes, so it’s a pleasant surprise to see cartoonish cat faces littering the fabric.

Right—anyway. You nod, though it’s mainly reserved for yourself, as your eyes rake up the words stuck to his fridge. Freshly printed out, not an inch out of place, you wonder how many times he’s done this. The gears turn in your head, clicking and grinding until your lips part, a breathless expression keyed into your facial features. Wait.

“Does that mean—”

“I’ll text you the extra details. Eri’s bedroom is upstairs, but you should wait for her to show it to you when she’s ready.”

Your apartment is a flimsy excuse of a home, nowhere near as intricate and thoroughly loved as Shouta’s. Walking inside, you realize just that, there isn’t even a hint of glitter or gleam as you walk through the front door. Even though you have yet to meet her, Eri’s already brightened up your life. Your walls scream with loneliness, the sound bouncing off each corner until you’re tucking yourself into bed and curling up beneath the sheets.

And though you barely know him, you can’t help but want to follow the childish urge to open up the website you found Aizawa’s listing on to study his headshot.

Eri, you’ve come to learn, is a very smart kid. Perhaps too smart for her own good, too observant, and way too excited to express said observations. You sit taut on the gray sofa, leaning over a sheet of paper as you carefully color between the lines of the thick, inky, coloringbook outline. But Eri’s got her own leaflet, vigorously coloring something she has yet to allow you to look at.

You haven’t known her long enough for the leaves to brown, to fall off and make room for winter. You haven’t known her long enough to see the leaves return, the chilly air slowly descending into something softer, quieter. Warmer with summer’s welcome. But she grew to accept you rather quickly.

It started soon after your first meeting with Aizawa, and to your dismay, you hadn’t really seen much of him after that. Only small traces and fragments, like the religious filling of Present Meow’s food bowl or notes tacked onto the fridge.

Admittedly, you kinda miss him.

You’ve become quite engrossed in Eri’s choice in television, watching the cartoon with just as much excitement as the six your old. It even makes you laugh, hearty and dinkum.

“How do you feel about niku-dofu for dinner tonight, Er-bear?” She barely moves, her tongue held between the corner of her lips as she furrows her brows in concentration. Whatever she’s coloring is much more important than dinner, apparently.

With outstretched limbs, you stand, reaching for the sky as a yawn is pulled from your chest and your eyes grow heavy. Being dragged along by a six year old all day is exhausting. The hairstyling, the nail-painting, the hero-pretending…the dolls.

(Eri quite enjoyed acting out soap-opera levels of dramatic scenes with dolls. And, of course, you could only be the man in these scenarios.)

But you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’ve grown attached in the span of a few weeks.

“I’ll take that as a yes then!” You chirp, setting down your finished page with a sense of pride. Might even have to add a signature to it!

With Eri’s toys scattered along the floor, despite your constant advisory to clean them up, walking through the house has become quite the challenge. An obstacle course of sorts that Aizawa must’ve been a master at getting through.

Aizawa… With dark circles that cast shadows down his mature face. With stubble that’s cleanly shaved, not a single hair out of place.

Aizawa…With his long, dark hair that frames his face with thick bundles.

Aizawa… Who almost constantly looks disgruntled, faintly pink lips pulled into a tight line.

Him and his signature crisp, black button up that barely fights against his large chest and his matching pants that cling to his stupidly strong thighs.

It makes your brain a little fuzzy, the thought of his equally large biceps bulging in his shirt as he crosses his arms and stares down at you through the bridge of his nose. And his eyes— piercing and domineering staring straight into yours, lips curled as he berates you like some sort of misbehaving child.

(Which you’d spent a lot of time arguing with him about through sticky-notes…The fridge is powered evidence, covered in neon paper as you remind him you’re ‘not a kid!’ beneath his ‘not bad, kid’ post-it note.)

“Hey? Are you okay?” Eri’s small voice snaps you out of your haze, wide and virtuous red eyes blinking up at you. Clutching her drawing to her chest, she shifts her weight between each leg. Her small smile is gone, so you do your best to conjure up a frolicsome grin.

“Never felt better! Finally ready to show me what you’re working on?”

“Mhm,” She hums, reminiscent of her father.

Eri’s picture is nothing short of sweet. Advanced for her age, she’s drawn three figures that resemble the three of you— herself, Aizawa, you— sitting happily at the generously furnished dining table. On her lap sits Present Meow, a black ball of crayon-esque fur, who has small, wobbly hearts above his head. You all do, actually, some bigger than others (e.i: you quite literally have heart eyes that take up more than half your crayon face), but big nonetheless.

Is your crush on her father really that obvious?

“Oh, Eri, that’s—”

The front door trembles, the doorknob clicking and jingling as it welcomes silver keys. Before your eyes, Shouta’s welcoming himself in, strong right arm pushing the door open. His shoulders are draped in exhaustion, his gray scarf tangled around his neck as he shuts the door behind him.

Embarrassment wells up in your stomach, overflowing until you’re hiding Eri’s drawing behind your back. He doesn’t typically come home this early. Usually within the late hours of the night, into early morning, he can be seen rummaging through the fridge for a drink until he heads upstairs, straight to bed.

Instead, he’s stalking forward.

Did his steps always shake the house like this, or are you just imagining it? You must be, it must be your heart in your ears, because your face is flooding with warmth as he towers over you and peeks over your shoulder.

“What’s behind your back?” He lifts an inquisitive eyebrow, faintly smelling of cigarette smoke.

“What? Noth—”

“Look!” Eri snatches the drawing from your clammy hands and pushes it into Shouta’s abdomen. He hunches over, just slightly, before taking in the image.

“Jesus, kid,” He clicks his tongue with a tenderhearted sigh, looping his thumb around the waistband of his black slacks. “You’re somethin’ else...”

You’d have thought it was meant for Eri if his gaze didn’t flicker up to meet yours.

Dinner rolled around fast, and you’d found yourself nicking your finger on one of Shouta’s large, sharpened knives. Cutting up a small portion of potatoes shouldn’t have been so trivial, a pained gasp escaped your lips as you pinched the tiny wound. You wince, instinctively sucking on the skin of your mangled finger.

“I told you to be careful,” He took your hand in his, swallowing it whole with his palms, and went as far as to berate you, grumbling, “Watch yourself. Are you okay?”

Breathless as you watched him open a nearby drawer, he pulled out a kiddie bandaid, decorated with polka dots and even more cats. You held still, letting him wrap the bandage around your finger nice and tight. And then, only then, did he place a small kiss on top.

“There you go, all better.” It’s a passing comment, only pried from his lips because he was so used to saying it to Eri, and he didn’t seem to realize just how flustered it made you. So you coughed into your hand, secretly hoping the warmth permeating off his body would return to your skin.

Now, with dinner finished, Eri has no problem shoveling the food into her mouth. Must've been all the running around, gave her an appetite fit for a grown woman. It’s not like you have room to talk, you’ve almost choked on your side of miso soup a whopping three times. Shouta seems to be the only composed person at the table.

“You got a little,” Shouta points to the corner of his mouth, waving his willowy finger in a quick, circular motion. “Right…there.”

“Hm?” He watches your face contort, timid and self conscious. He can’t help but smile, just a small upward quirk to the corner of his lips, that slowly disappears as he leans in to wipe off a few grains of rice from the side of your mouth.

There he goes again, acting all domestic, as he raises the same finger to his own mouth. Your pupils blow wide, heat forming in your stomach as he sucks off the rice with disregard for how this might look to anyone besides a father.

Your eyes flicker to Eri, who’s too busy fighting off sleep with the handle of her silver spoon, her tiny head jerking and bobbing every so often, to notice the display.

“I guess—- guess it’s time for bed!” Your voice cracks embarrassingly loud as you stand, quick to stop in your tracks when Aizawa follows suit.

“I got it.”

Aizawa, you’ve learned, says that quite a lot. Despite his generous hourly pay and your obligation to take care of his child, he insists it’s best if he cleans after her. Too intimidated to argue, you simply nod, falling back onto his couch as he ventures back for forth— upstairs and back.

Each time he returns, he notices the droop in your eyes, the way they slowly fall with each step he takes. It’s late, he should be escorting you home, but he doesn’t want to disturb your well-earned sleep session.

As he sits to finally take a break, letting his joins snap and pop, you fall face-first into his shoulder, smashing your cheek against the firm skin.

Your lips pucker, pouty and almost fish-like. Your boyish face, soft and not yet worn down by the tiresome nature of time in itself, looks undeniably cute. Perfect for kissing and irrevocably inviting. Your eyes are shut, lashes resting against your cheeks. Time stops, minutes passing within hours, as Shouta takes in your essence and stares down at your innocent face. Stealing a kiss would just be… so…easy…

“Fix your face,” He says instead, clearing his throat and directing his gaze to the dimly lit, yellow-tinted lamp resting on the end table placed by his half of the sofa. “Or it’ll get stuck like that.”

“M’sorry.” You whisper, bashful as ever despite the slippery hands of sleep reaching back for you. Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?

It makes Aizawa want to retract his statement, press his thumb into the unobtrusive crease forming between your pretty eyebrows. But it leaves before it has time to arrive— to settle, as your body relaxes once more. He observes for a moment, the dip of the couch as you finally sink your weight into it, the debt collectors contracted with sleep finally having caught up with you.

Preserving himself through all these years, none being particularly good to him, he wonders if you’ve faced any similar endeavors. He’d hate to leave you alone, cold and barren as another side of his bed remains despicably untouched, only the ghost of what could have been keeping him company during this sleep-centric night. Your breaths are slow and steady, lips briefly parting to mumble something he can’t quite grasp. Shouta tries anyway, tucking his stubbly chin against his collarbone as he leans forward.

His face is dangerously close, a mere inch separating the gap between his lips and soft, supple skin. With your head nuzzled against his shoulder—broad and wide—your words dispel into the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Alongside a fine layer of drool, something he's all too used to, that slowly spreads the deeper you fall into undisturbed sleep. A heavy sleeper then, he presumes.

Shouta keeps you close, pressing your body against his as he loops his other arm behind your legs and hoists you up. He’s careful to avoid any furniture, holding you with an iron grip as he steps up the creaky stairs. His hair bounces with each step, curly and dark, flowing down his back and streaked with gray.

“..Zawa…” Nearly dropping you, his mismatched gaze locks onto your face. Blissed out and camouflaged with slumber, you stir in his arms. “Kiss me ‘lready.”

Aizawa clears his throat, neck constricting as it tightens around the air. It’s fine, just a baseless comment, he decides, as he slowly opens his bedroom door, careful of the noise. You don’t seem to move after that, dozing in his arms until he’s setting you down into his bed. He really hopes you don’t mind it— he doesn’t have a guest bedroom, after all.

It’s dark in his room, blackout curtains covering any sliver of radiance from outside streetlights. So he flicks on the lamp on his bedside table, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest as he lifts his arms overhead to remove his shirt. Something cold prods at his back, and before he can shed the clothing, Shouta redirects himself to look back at you.

Half asleep, your foot creeps under the comfortable fabric of his shirt. You must’ve discarded your socks in your sleep, because you’re rubbing your eyes with balled up fists as if you’d just woken up. Doesn’t stop you from speaking, vocal cords strained, “S’this the part where we cuddle?”

Aizawa watches you shimmy out of your pants, obviously groggy and irrational from having just opened your eyes, your warm skin slowly being exposed inch by inch. You must overheat in your sleep.

“No, it’s not,” He groans out, sucking in a sharp intake of air as he takes in the mural being painted in front of him. “Go back to sleep, kid.”

“Don’ wanna,” You mumble, much more awake as your eyes hone in on the skin of his back that he’s partially exposing. “And I’m not a kid.”

“Sound like one.” You hear him grovel under his breath, almost as if you were meant to hear it. Aizawa has quite the ability to be silent when he wants to, he can creep up on you without you ever noticing. So you suck your teeth, sitting up in his bed.

He expects you to respond with something witty, something he has to pretend he doesn’t find funny. But you don’t, instead staying uncharacteristically silent. Had it not been the dip in his mattress, he would have assumed you dissolved into thin air.

God, how you hope he won’t find you childish for this.

“Sir, I,” Shouta stiffens, his hair falling from behind his ear as he turns to fully face you. “Can I kiss you?”

“Can you..” He trails off, watching your bottom lip jut out. Plump and shiny, Aizawa resists the urge to sink his teeth into it. How soft would they feel? Would you cry into his mouth if he bit too hard? Anything in his hands becomes fragile, and he wants to know how far you can bend before you break. “Can you kiss me?”

He doesn’t give you time to respond, grabbing your ankle with his rough hands to drag you down into him. Your pretty eyes widen, large and unsuspecting as he crashes his lips against yours, feverish and desperate.

His tongue swipes over your lower lip and eagerly awaits yours, tasting faintly of cigarette smoke and cinnamon. Undeniably Shouta, you can’t help but whimper into his mouth, tangling your fingers into his disheveled hair. His mouth is warm and wet— almost searing hot, and you can’t help but choke on your own breaths. You sink into the kiss, floaty and dumbstruck by his urgency.

Like a starved man, he pushes you down on your back and tangles his big hands in the waistline of your boxers, tugging the elastic apart until it rips with a ‘snap!’. You’re exposed, legs instinctively closing to shield your half naked body.

“Aht-aht. Sit still,” Aizawa hand quickly latches around the base of your dick, sending shocks of electricity up your smaller (in comparison to his) body. You tug on his wrist, eyes burning with unshed tears as he stares down at you, predatory and famished. “When’s the last time you played with this pretty cock? Did you think of me?”

He doesn’t give you time to speak, instead spitting down onto your cock with a thick, shiny glob of spit. You can’t help but moan, watching it slide down and heat up through his fingers. His hand envelops you entirely, big and warm and squelching as he accentuates his words with particularly sharp pumps.

“Oh, sweetheart,” His voice sounds condescending and feignedly sweet, you swear you could cum just from hearing it. “S’been a while, huh? Yeah? S’why you’re leaking all over my hand?”

You feel yourself nod, quick and enthusiastic as you melt into his palm. Your legs turn into jello, numb against his warm sheets, as your toes curl and your back slowly inches off the mattress. Shouta’s eyes are lidded and heavy, drinking you in and burning you from the inside out. You keen, pulsating in his hand until the warmth is suddenly gone, and you’re blinking away frustrated tears.

“No—!”

“Greedy brat,” Shouta’s quick to shut you up, large hands sinking into the plush skin of your thighs as he spreads your legs open impossibly wide. “Fuck, got a greedy hole on you too.”

Your hole clenches in response, eager to have his attention. You can feel a trail of precum and spit soaking the area, warm and wet, not yet reminiscent of his cum. Soon enough, you hope, he’ll be filling you to the brim and then some. Your hands, somehow forgotten, scramble to unbutton his dress shirt.

Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, you gasp in retaliation to his big hand clutching your jaw with indescribable force and pressure. Trying to leave finger-shaped bruises. Your lips part, tongue pushed free from your squished cheeks as you blink up at him, eyes dancing between one milky-white iris and another, only chocolate brown.

“Go on, say it. Tell Daddy you’re a greedy boy with a greedy little hole,” He’s spitting into your mouth, a thin trail of saliva indirectly connecting his tongue to yours. “You can do it, sugar.”

Oh. Oxygen disconnects from your lungs, dumbly blinking up at him with a garbled moan. You can’t speak if you wanted to, not with his hand around your jaw like this, so you settle for swallowing down his spit with a feeble smile. All you can push out is a mangled ‘Daddy!’ but Aizawa seems to take that for an answer, groaning as he hikes your knees up to your chest, sighing when you squeal in response.

His big, warm body is pressed up against yours, much bigger and stronger, and it’s apparent in every movement he makes. He’s able to push you around, flip you over and push you down with barely a finger, and you’re sure his hand can cover the entirety of your face. You moan, wanton and sweet in his ears as he maneuvers your arms to keep your legs up.

“Gonna take real good care of you,” Shouta— Daddy sighs, hunched over and breathing dangerously close to your entrance. Almost like he’s talking to your hole instead of you, and you’d protest if it weren’t for the hot, wet stripe he’d just licked down from your perineum to your hole. Your body feels warm and tingly, legs twitching as his tongue prods and pokes deeper and deeper, slowly slipping inside. “Gonna let Daddy take care of you?”

He’s sure to make it messy, adding generous amounts of drool and spit along your sensitive hole, eating you out like he gets paid to do it. He makes you lay there and take it, holding your legs open like some cheap whore, settling between your thighs with feverish and hungry kisses. Making out with your hole, you watch with heavy eyes and a gaped mouth.

“Yeah, yeah..” You moan subconsciously, a constant stream leaving your pretty, parted lips. He takes the opportunity to fill your mouth with his fingers, long and scarred as his fingertips run along your pink tongue. His fingers taste vaguely of salt, and you can’t help but suck on them, eyes fluttering in content.

You barely catch it, a small kiss being placed on the curve of your jaw until he’s freeing his fingers from your mouth. He resists the urge to shove them down your throat, watch your eyes get glassy and wet as you gag on his fingers like you would his cock.

“Gotta get this cunt nice n’ ready. Watch me eat you out, boy,” His voice has dropped several octaves—if that’s even possible—thick and heavy and reverberating straight into your hole. It’s like he knows you by heart, even if this is your first time together, because he’s slotting his thick, scarred fingers in along with his tongue. “Such a pretty hole. Matches your face.”

Through the haze you’re still able to mumble out a quiet, “Thank you,” timid, small, and broken up between moans.

“Good boy, still remembering your manners,” He sounds just as breathless as you, pressing his fingertips against the special spot inside of you. Your body jolts, a shriek ripping from your throat as he puts pressure on it, bullies it with his fingers, and follows suit with his tongue. Too much. “Shh, I know. Try to stay quiet for me.”

For me. The implication has you whining, high in your throat and pitiful as you nod to no one in particular, wiggling in your boss’s hold. For me. The implication has you whining, high in your throat and pitiful as you nod to no one in particular, wiggling in your boss’s hold.

You want to be good, be the best boy you can be, but you just can’t help it. The complete opposite of what he’s told you to do, high off his fingers as your body clenches and your moans grow louder and louder, fingernails digging into the soft surface of the back of your knees. He just presses and presses and—

Stops. Abrupt and fleeting until his hand is back, but instead in the form of a harsh slap right across the back of your thighs. Your sit spots.

“Wh- mm-mm…! Waitwait..Daddy—!” You’re stunned, stuttering and stumbling over your words as you fail to recollect what just happened. You press your face into your knees, bunched up tight as tears spring in your eyes. “That hu—urts.”

The pout in your voice is evident, and Shouta can’t help but coo. Especially when your cock, lodged right between the thickness of your thighs, jumps and leaks more precum. His own throbs in his pants, leaking into his underwear and leaving him sticky. God, he can’t wait to feel your hole twitch around his dick.

“You’re a big boy. I know you can take it, you said it yourself, didn’t you?” And there it is again, the fog that casts over your brain as you can only think of being good. Good for Shouta. Good for your Daddy.

There’s a sharp smack right on top of your little hole, the entrance winking back in retaliation as you sob into your knees. The pain doesn’t last long, simmers down and is easily replaced by heat when his fingers rub soothing circles around your rim.

“Daddy,” Your voice comes out much sweeter and wet, letting out a small sniffle as you peek out to watch him place open-mouthed kisses against your hole. “Want you.”

“You have me, boy,” His heart melts, and a soft smile creeps up on his handsome face. His tie dangles as he shifts his weight, opening his bedside drawer to pull out a condom and cherry flavored lube. Ironic. “Now let me in, wanna make your pretty fuckhole cream around my cock.”

“Wait,” You rasp, watching him tear open the packaging with his teeth. You’re still breathless and shaky, but you’re trying your best. “Wanna feel you. Wanna feel you inside me.”

Aizawa’s deep groans are music to your ears, and your eyes threaten to roll back into your skull when he frees himself of his shirt and sheds his pants. His dickprint is big and thick, throbbing in the fabric and sticky with fresh precum. You want to taste it. His cock springs free as his briefs drop to the floor, slapping against his abdomen and weeping.

You watch him fuck his fist, pouring the slick lube down his cock and warming it up with his palm.

“Yeah? You want it? Gonna listen to Daddy so he can put his thick cock in that sloppy little hole? C’mere before I shoot into my fist.”

You nod so hard it hurts, squeezing your shaft to stop yourself from cumming to his words alone. Your cock twitches in your hand, hard and wet as Shouta walks forward to meet you at the edge of the bed and scoops you up into his arms like you’re weightless. It must be easy for him, seeing as he’s so much bigger than you in every way.

“Won’t fit—”

“Shh,” Like he knows what you’re going to say before you can utter it, Shouta lifts you into the air with ease, and you can feel his cock pressing against your puckered hole. “We’ll make it fit.”

Your back presses against his chest, upright as he loops his arms around the backs of your knees. You’re spread wide, and with Shouta’s strong grip, all you can do is sit there and take it. You can feel him twitch and throb from the inside-out, his cock gushing pre as you sink down onto his cock. Your eyes roll back, wanton moans and a chant of ‘DaddyDaddyDaddy’ filling the air as snaps his hips, barely letting you adjust.

His dick is stretching you open, thick and long, and pulsing and veiny as you feel it bulge in your tummy, pushing past your rim and filling you up.

“Thought about this for weeks,” Your breath catches in your throat, and suddenly you’re too far gone to answer. “I—yeah, should’ve fucked you in that café.”

From the… Start?

Heat pools on your stomach, his cock punching your insides and kissing each sensitive ridge with every movement he makes. Your moans are unintelligible, barely even coherent, as he fucks into you, lifting you off his cock again, and again, and again. Cock-drunk while his dick rearranges your guts, drool slips from your mouth and down your chest.

You look pathetic and ruined.

“So cute like this, pretty baby. You make the dumbest little faces when you’re fucked stupid on Daddy’s cock, but still so damn cute.”

His cock drags in and out of your plushy walls, precum and lube making a creamy concoction along his shaft with each thrust. Your face is stained with tears and drool, mouth open wide as you pant and whine.

The knot in your stomach tightens, your hole beating around his cock as Aizawa moans, and you feel your body go numb as you shudder and convulse. You’re cumming, and your smaller hands squeeze his big ones as he uses you like a fucktoy, bouncing off his lap with tiny, “Mm, mm, mm’s.” Your hole grips him like a vice, swallowing his cock deeper and deeper until you feel warmth flooding your stomach, your balls tightening by the second.

“Da—addy please, m’cummin’, m’cummin’!”

“There you go, smart little boy,” Shouta groans loud in your ear, twitching in your tummy when you clamp down on his dick. He wants to fuck his cum into you, you deserve it. You deserve his cock, you deserve his load, you deserve to be stuffed full until you’ve milked his dick for all he’s got— all it’s worth. “Just keep bouncin’, so fuckin good at it, gush on my cock. What d’you say, baby? What d’you say to Daddy?”

You wish you could see him, the grit of his teeth as his thrusts turn sloppy and messy. But you know he can see you, staring down at the cum painting your chest as it squirts out your cock in thick, rapid ropes. Mixing with your tears and drool, you know you look like sex on legs, eyes void of everything but the need for cock.

“Thankyouthankyouthank—fu-huck,” His cock is jackhammering so deep you can barely breathe. “Thank you, Daddy!”

“Gonna make you just like Daddy, gonna make you one too,” It must send him over the edge, the sounds of your hole squelching as he scrambles your insides, because he’s quick to shoot a creamy, hot load of cum straight inside you. “Wanna be a big boy so bad? Then—fuuuck— take it like one.”

He gives a few last slow, deep thrusts inside so his cum really takes, carefully freeing your legs as you collapse onto him with a breathy moan.

“‘Zawa…”

“C’mere, brat,” You’re quick to whine, weakly pressing your face into the expanse of his large chest, all tears and snot and cum as he cradles your head between his large hand and his even larger chest. You feel protected in his arms, shrinking even smaller into his lap as your eyes slip closed and his cum leaks down your thighs. “You’re a good boy. My good boy.”

Shouta’s hand is ablaze when he brushes it along your forehead, soon after replacing it with a gentle kiss. He means it.

“Let Daddy take care of you.”

[subwaystragedy]

His Kitten || Dom!Aizawa x Sub!Male Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Dirty Talk, Pet Play, Collaring, Praise, and Rough To Gentle Sex

"You like that kitten?" Aizawa demands, leaning forward with his hand in your hair as he continues to thrust into you, having set up a special intimate night for the two of you since he was off from all work for a few days. Never expecting such a pent up and aggressive man, in contrast to his usual intimate ways of sex. "You like my dick deep inside you? Hitting your pathetic prostate to make you cry, that what you like?" "Fuck! Yes Shouta!" you yell best you can with your face buried in the sheets of your shared bed. His nails dig into your hips as he uses your body for stability.

The bells attached to the fake cat ears you have on ring with every thrust, your ass in the air with your legs bent straight down so he can reach as deep as possible inside you, moaning wildly at the stimulation, "Taking it all so well kitty," he speaks in a low and silky voice, smooth yet rough as he lets out a small chuckle. "God that collar looks so pretty around your neck sweet boy," is all he has to say, angling his hips up just a bit more to make you scream out, "Th-thank you!" "Such a pretty kitten with my dick inside you, yeah?" He questions, the best you can do is let out a choked gasp, as he speeds up, thrusting quickly and almost erratically as he chances the high for the both of you.

Laughing lowly as he takes the leash of the collar you're wearing and wraps it around his hand, using the other to push you down so you're laying flat on your stomach, still managing to force your back to arch as he tugs on the leash and picks up the pace once more. "Sh-shit Shouta!” is all you can muster to moan at the new feeling of pleasure as he thrust deeply inside you. "So pretty under me, love hearing you scream out," he speaks softly. Chuckling to himself as he watch your ass bounce from his thrust, moving the hand without the collar to it as he holds your ass, "Love the feeling of you on me," followed by another low laugh.

"You look so blissed out kitten, does it feel good baby?" you nod vigorously at the question, biting your lip and whimpering lightly as he thrust slow and deep, jolting his hips forward harshly every time. "God you feel amazing baby boy," he says in a hushed tone before leaning down to kiss your shoulder over and over, soon leaving open mouth love bites on them as he stills inside you. Making you whine and wiggle under him in some form of simple hope for him to move, hearing him shush you before talking lowly, "Be still kitten, I wanna feel you around me," his words drive you wild, knowing damn well he's teasing you with his small laugh at your words and distress.

"Sh-shouta! Move!" He hums against your skin, rocking his hips into but not thrusting, kissing your back and neck, "But you feel good like this," he hums again, "With me deep inside you." His words make you whine, trying to lift your hips to encourage his future movements, letting a drawn out whine escape your throat as he holds your hips down and slowly rolls into you, his strength preventing you from doing anything. “Be still kitten, I want to go nice and slow now,” he talks in between kisses, taking the leash and tugging to the left, a silent suggestion for you to turn your head, and you do, being met with his lips on yours as he pulls out slowly further than before to slam back into you. Moaning into the kiss with you as he keeps up the pace, Shouta pulling away to speak tauntingly, “You like it slow kitty? You like how I fuck you nice and deep?”

A high pitched whimper leaving your throat as you nod, jolting forward with the force he used to thrust into you, Shouta letting go of the leash to hold your face instead as he kisses you once more, the intimacy of it all getting to you as you fuck. Moving with you to keep up with the now sloppy kiss, his tongue entering your mouth in a messy make out session. The noises lewd, both from the sound of skin against skin and the wet sounds of Shouta swirling  his tongue in your mouth, exploring it depravedly like he has a million times before. The occasional sounds of ringing following with each thrust from the ear atop of your head, feeling your lover pull away gives you the sign to breathe once more, huffing after you inhale quickly. “Gonna come with me, huh kitten?” grunting in between his words, lowering his head after you nod as he focuses on pumping himself in and out of you. 

Picking up the pace as he rests his hand on either side or you, the position making him arch his back to thrust his hips properly. The sounds of his hips hitting your ass becoming louder, along with both your moans, small huffs coming from Shouta as you moan out, feeling his dick stimulate your prostate as he moves to hold your hands resting against the bed. The sensation becoming more intimate from the small action, hearing his voice once more as he tells you, “Gonna cum kitty,”he groans, “Gonna come inside you.” He speaks for you, “Cum with me,” while speeding up his movements, leaning over you once more as he kisses the back of your neck. 

Groaning slightly as he gives a final thrust into your ass, the feeling of his own cum inside you spurring your own orgasm on as you feel the cum covering the sheets being glad your fucking on just one side of the double bed you share with Shouta, feeling him lean atop of you again as you sigh. His arms sliding under you as he flips the both of you to your sides, simply laying on the other side of the matters as he kisses you neck, “Did so well kitten, so so well,” feeling his sigh on your skin as you close your eyes contently. Slowly but surely drifting off in the comfort of Shouta’s arms

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ Good boy. ❞

Touya Todoroki x ftm!reader x Tomura Shigaraki x Taishiro Toyomitsu x ftm!Shota Aizawa x ftm!Keigo Takami | AU, Dabi & Tomura works as a body piercer & tattoo artist. Taishiro and Shota work as college professors | nsfw, smut, p**n with plot | vers. bttm. reader | wc: 8.7K | NOT PROOFREAD

warnings: most likely inaccurate description of getting pierced, D/S dynamics, T4T (Shota Aizawa x r! x Takami Keigo), infinity collar (Keigo Takami), markings, blowjobs, handjobs, anal sex, orgy, minor daddy kink, overstimulation, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as dick though), squirting, Aizawa has had top and bottom surgery, Keigo has had top surgery and bottom growth

masterlist: pt1; pt2; pt3

authors note: this is for @thatone1diot and @kaycesspade! I could not resist writing more for these horny idiots! * song on repeat when writing this: sugar by sleep token & LA FAMA by ROSALiA ft. The Weeknd

Oh fuck.

Taishiro, with those warm honey eyes, catches the apprehension on your face. He lifts a hand, his smile soft and dimples filled with nothing but kindness; "There's really no need for that. The offer is really cool and all but, we're practically strangers, so there's no need for — " Tomura scoffs as he folds his arms across his chest.

"Strangers? You put your dick into our boy, wouldn't think that counts as something strangers do," he snaps out. Dabi is slipping a hand into your back pocket, the other reaching for the back of Tomura's neck.

"Alright, alright. Nobody is a fan of the fivesome. No need to get all macho about it," Dabi said. Taishiro offers an apologetic grin that makes your lips pursed. "It's fine, really," you pull away from your boyfriends — they watch with cocked brows — and stand between the duos. "It wasn't offensive, it was just a lame joke Dabi likes to make." Dabi didn't think his jokes were lame, his frown reflects his thoughts but you elect to ignore it as you turn to face Taishiro and Shota. Out of the club, they're dressed so...handsomely. You suppose they could be wearing nothing but a potato sack and still make you salivate but it was nice to see their personal styles.

Shota was wearing a black turtleneck that was tight in all the right places, his coat hung over his arm and sleeves rolled up to show the dark ink on his cool-toned skin. On the other hand, Taishiro is in white and creams — his button-up crisp with his coat made his skin glow. His hair slicked back showed off those mixed metals decorating his ear lobes and cartilage.

God, he was huge. Not just his tall frame but the softness of his tummy and the way his sleeves seem to struggle to hold onto all of him. Memories of that night flood in and you shouldn't be surprised at your perverted brain doing what it does but there's a sense of shame that comes.

"A - anyways, what brings you two here?" Shota gives a glance over your shoulder, you wonder where he got that facial scar. Your thighs tickle in memory of his beard, before he answers.

"A friend recommended the place." You nodded and motioned for them to go towards the glass counter. Tomura huffs behind you but follows you as well. There were several other tattoos and piercing parlors around here. It was just the area for it. Still, Villain's Hideout was a crowd favorite for its beautiful tattoos along with their masterful piercing techniques.

"You're getting a tattoo?" You wonder, grabbing the store's iPad and peeking at Shota through your lashes. He shakes his head, stroking over the curved cartilage of his ear.

"A piercing. Helix." He wonders why your eyes sparkle. Shota watches the silent exchange between you and Tomura with mild interest.

"...Would you be willing to get pierced by him?" Tomura says after a quick exhale. Shota pinches his brows.

"Is he trained to pierce people?" You nod enthusiastically and it reminds him of the night you were downing tequila shots with ease whilst leaning against the bar with a giant grin; looking oh-so handsome when you glanced back at him with a wink.

He isn't sure if that memory helped his confidence in your ability to stab a needle through him, but he nodded either way.

"I don't see why not, if I die at least you'll know who to sue, Taishiro." The joke manages to wring a chuckle from your lips. It loosens your boyfriends shoulders. You hope it’ll be an indication that things can goo by smoothly between everyone today. There really was no need for any drama — you’ve had your fill with the months leading up to the three of you finally making it official. You’ve earned some peace in this lifetime.

Dabi's usual spot is too much of a squeeze for everyone. So you're in Tomura's; it's more spacious, less private.

"So, are you guys a couple?" Dabi is sitting on the swivel chairs, watching you idly as you and Tomura set and sanitize things up. Taishiro smiles, putting his phone away after he had taken a photo of Shota sat on the chair. "We're colleagues, actually." Dabi scoffs, inching in closer to them before Tomura can wheel him back.

"At like a BDSM club or something? Seem pretty coordinated. Is it an open relationship kinda deal?"

"You're so interested, I'm almost flustered," Shota drawls out. "We're coworkers who fuck each other with no romantic aspects in our relationship."

Shota isn't usually so open about himself and his private life. Although because he ate you out with Taishiro's dick in your cunt, he supposes he should offer your boyfriends some courtesy.

"Hm, fair enough." Dabi says with a shrug. Taishiro finds it befuddling how casually Dabi seemed to ‘approve’ of their status. It was a bit strange, but he seemed like the eclectic type anyways.

Enigmatic? Was that a nicer description?

Tomura hooks the toe-point of his boots to the steel bars of the swivel chair and tugs Dabi back. "You got it, babe?" Tomura murmurs. You nod, humming along as you recount the steps in your head.

"Will Shota be your first?" Taishiro wonders as you turn around. Tomura snickers but a quick elbow from you silences it into a pleased grin. "No, I pierced Dabi's ears before and did Tomura's lip piercing. A few lobe piercings too!"

"He's good, we taught him everything he needs to know," Tomura holds the back of your nape, twisting your head to place a quick kiss on your lips.

"Isn't that right, baby?"

That look is still in his eyes. That possessiveness from the night in the club. His vermillion eyes are hooded with a desire that's entirely out of place. Still — your cheeks warm from the public display and irritation is beginning to show in the twitch of your brows.

"Yeah," you reply, darting your eyes elsewhere which makes Tomura's moisturized — you've made it a habit to do it for him for his sake — lips stretch. Dabi gives you the chair he'd been sitting on and you're unaware of the heavy gazes of the other men in the room.

That night of passion, unfiltered and raw and rough; your bedroom eyes from across the room that made embers of lust roar into a flame. Shota and Taishiro had come to the club to get drunk after a particularly harrowing round of marking their students exam papers. They had no intention of visiting the private rooms above despite the club owner excitedly informing them he had saved one just for them.

"Hizashi, we're only here for the drinks. Not the boys," Taishiro chuckles out, cheeks red and lips sweet from the drinks Hizashi had so graciously poured into his mouth. Straight from the bottle, standing over him while he was sitting on the couch. Shota was chugging the rest of it down after he had tapped the blonde's side for mercy.

"Really?" Hizashi scoffed. "You come to a club called Boy Toys for the drinks? Don't even wanna get your tips wet? You're fucking with me!" Taishiro whines when Hizashi slings an arm around his neck, forcing him to lean down a bit. "Your pretty little blonde pet still busy?" Shota sighs as the last drop trails down his chin, wiping it away with the back of his hand and placing the bottle down.

"When he isn't, we should arrange another play session! The both of you made him so good at eating ass out! My ass still has ghostly sensations!"

See? Absolutely no intention of finding someone to fuck. Until you bumped into him at the bar — tequila shots — and suddenly he just couldn't keep his eyes off of you. Taishiro's interests were obviously piqued because of Shota's and then, well....

You remember what happened next, don't you?

Stumbling into the private room, Shota's talented mouth working you open and Taishiro’s cock splitting you open...

“Ready?” Shota nods and you murmur a thank you as you reach for the alcohol swabs. Wordlessly, Shota brushes his long bangs back and into a ponytail, revealing the streaks of white hairs he has and Dabi blinks as he spots the way your fingers wrinkle the poor swab.

Shota straightens his back and you carefully feel the spot. He wanted it higher, a quick touch to the curve of his ear tells you it’s because of space as you felt the dips of his other piercings. Shota focused his gaze on anything but you; staring at the floor and his lap. Unintentionally catching the sliver of skin the oversized shirt collar shows him.

You’re marked up. That doesn’t surprise him. It’s the amount of marks that do. If it wasn’t the hickeys, it was the traces of what was probably a collar. Shota holds himself back from commenting on it. It wasn’t his place to tell you there were nicer, padded, collars that won’t leave such marks on your skin. Even if he was dying to ask if you have any moisturizer or gel to soothe it.

The coolness of the wet pad cleaning the spot feel numbed out for him. If he could muster anymore attention to anything but the remnants of sex on your body, he'd applaud you for how thoroughly you're sanitizing the area and how steady your fingers are as you mark the spot.

A mirror breaks his train of thought and his wide eyes blink back at himself.

“What do you think?” Shota focuses on the mark, clearing his throat. This was not appropriate. The situation was unusual but his behaviour was entirely inappropriate. Dabi stands behind you, bending at the waist as he regards the placement. The sight of him makes Shota’s interest pique despite his moral protests.

Dabi had offered — No! It was an awful joke! That’s all!

“I like it,” Shota nearly strains out. Seeing your lips curl proudly only fuels his guilt. And lust. “Good job, baby,” Dabi presses a kiss to the side of your temple and his hands squeeze your nape once again.

It must be a comforting touch for you. Twice now it’s done and each time, both Taishiro and Shota note how your eyelids flutter. Threatening to close but being kept open through sheer will and — if your reproachful glare to them is of any indication — slight embarrassment.

Bit too late for that now if they’re being completely honest.

“D’you need me to hold your hand, Shota?” Taishiro teases from his side. Shota snorts, tilting his head as he looks down at Taishiro. “You’ll be the one squeezing my hand until it breaks if I do that. So no.”

“Big guys a scaredy cat?” Tomura is staying in his corner. Content as he watches you prepare the jewellery for Shota from a distance. Dabi is hovering and you’re tempted to elbow him too if it weren’t for the grip he had on your waist.

“Hah, not really,” Taishiro snorts, “Shota’s just teasing. He’s the more edgy one compared to me.” Tomura’s brows raise at that.

“I just like poking fun at him,” Taishiro adds.

At the moment, you're feeling something else poke at your behind. God, the both of them were like animals in heat. There's a pinch of amusement at this but you push it down. Dabi and Tomura laugh along to Taishiro's words — they were little shitheads too. Taishiro was just in nicer packaging.

He was so big. The mere memory of him makes your dick twitch. What did his parents feed him to make his body so perfect?

You chastise yourself in your head. Bad enough your boyfriends already have some weird beef with these DILF's, you cannot be calling them DILF's in your head and lust over them. You were a whore but you weren't an adulterous whore!

You pick up your piercing instruments, tilting your head to switch gears from horny fantasies to a more professional mindset. Dabi's boner can wait.

The gloves are making his thoughts run wild. Feeling you but not all of you, the pressure of your touch and the concentrated scrunch between your brows are making him feel like a teenager.

Was that just the effect you had? Making queer men go stupid after one taste of you?

It's like some sort of supernatural power. A mutation or a quirk, hes's sure of it. Because Shota was not some horny dog that ran after any pretty boy, especially not ones who were already in a relationship. These emotions of rabidness was not meant for someone like him, it was meant for his student not him. He had a goddamn tenure.

Shota tenses as the sharp tip of a hollow needle presses onto his skin. He dares to flick his eyes upwards and he instantly regrets it. You look at him and that memory of the night he met you flashes again.

"Deep breathe in."

He can definitely do that.

His shoulders raise and drop. The needle pierces through with a sharp yet familiar sting. It’s soothing. The rush is minuscule but it’s the exact pinch he needs to rid his filthy thoughts of you. Shota is impressed with how smoothly your motions are. You’ve clearly got the routine down. Hands steady as you slip the hoop through his flesh and gently fix the jewellery. Dabi is still behind you, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed while Tomura is sneaking a video of your process.

You nod, backing away with a proud grin. It’s Dabi’s cue to inspect the product and Tomura holds up a mirror for Shota.

“Looks great,” Dabi’s praise practically makes you bounce off the balls of your feet. Taishiro approaches, so Shota turns his head for him to get a look. It was perfect. The placement was exactly where he wanted it to be and there was no blood spilt —

Why is this making his craving for you heighten?

The payment process that follows is oddly methodical. Taishiro likened it to a mechanical process. The air was so thick with sexual tension despite the inappropriateness of the entire situation. Or perhaps, because of the inappropriate situation. The blonde’s cheeks were red and all that was shared was just heavy gazes, coy questions and teasing.

It ends so abruptly. He kneads at his neck, as if physically feeling the effects of whiplash instead of metaphorically. Shota bids you and your boyfriends, thanking you for the piercing and Taishiro offers a polite nod and grin. The door closes behind them and they both walk in silence for a minute or two.

“...He’d honestly love the three of them,” Taishiro casually mentions. “Didn’t he say he wanted a new piercing?”

Shota and him exchange a look. Taishiro then slips his phone out and begins texting their obedient little pet. They did promise him a good surprise for when he returned from his trip overseas — new playmates sounds perfect. They were already on some thin ice with Tomura, Taishiro thinks. Their pet would be an olive branch, an offer of peace, so to speak.

Toga and Spinner tilt their heads at the closed store. She rattles the front door with a quizzical expression while Spinner is balancing his phone between his ear and shoulder, rummaging his pockets upon pockets of his pants for the keys. Twice was keeping "lookout" behind them while he held the canned drinks they got from the grocery store a train ride away.

"Spinner, are you messing with us?" Toga pouts. Thankfully, the weather was cool and breezy. But it wasn't exactly good for business for them to be loitering in front of their own store. They looked dumb too, Twice whined out at some point.

"We look like losers!" the taller of the three huffs.

"Give me a goddamn second! I know I brought the keys with me, okay?" Spinner hisses out. Toga and Twice watch on, unimpressed.

The rattling of the door makes him shiver. That's what he'd say if you asked. It was your tongue and tongue piercing but telling you that would just make you way too smug about your headgame. Tomura's spot was hidden away by a wooden divider, the dark red colour of it popping out brightly against the cooler tones of the shop. Dabi's spot was a small room with one door tucked in the hallway at the back of the store.

Tomura's spot was a corner. Not a room, no door.

The only thing separating it from the front area was that wooden divider and some big plants whose leaves needed a wipe down.

Fucking in Tomura's spot is always a rush considering how the shops front is basically a fish tank. That, and the CCTV in the corner provides Tomura — and Dabi and you — with grainy, noir-esque, replays.

Tomura knows Spinner doesn't have the keys. He left his fanny pack — or as he calls it, his Utility Belt — behind the glass counter. He thinks that deserves a bit of punishment and ignores his buzzing phone while you're working on his cock. He half-regrets teaching you how to use that damn barbell piercing. It flicks under head, dragging itself up to his slit and Tomura curses as you grin.

"I'll cum all over your face if you keep teasing me," he warns.

"Hm, promise, baby?" you push your lips out, relishing in the salty taste of his precum while he tosses his head back. Dabi watches from the side, sitting on the same spot Shota had been on, while he looked at the stores iPad.

His dick was so hard and begging to be let out from his pants. His usual impatience's was not present in this romp. It couldn't have been from their three dumbass apprentices outside the door. He relishes in peoples — small — sufferings.

You roll your eyes internally at him brooding. Focusing on Tomura as you squeeze his dick just how he likes it. The contrast of your hold, wet, tongue and that cold, smooth, piercing — the swelled tongue and soft food diet you had to go through was worth it. Tomura was close, you could feel the way he's twitching in your mouth and you pull back with just the slightest hint of teeth.

It makes him grunt, gripping the back of your head in warning and you flutter your eyes closed to simply avoid looking at him.

"Fuckin' brat." He wasn't wrong. It wasn't his lose. He liked you like that way.

You take him into your mouth again, humming, and Tomura hates how good it feels. The incessant buzzing is making Dabi's eye twitch and so he crouches next to you to reach into Tomura's pants. You ignore him completely while he answers the call, simply going further down on Tomura.

"Shit — !"

"Yo, Spinner. What's up?" Dabi moves to stand behind you as he boxes you between him and Tomura. He guides Tomura's hand to his crotch, and he stifles the moan in his throat as he feels it jump from underneath the layers.

"Are you guys in the store?" Spinner sounds hopeful.

Dabi almost feels bad for them...

"Nah, we headed out to buy some food. There's no appointments until later today. You want anything to eat?"

Tomura manages to whip his dick out and you felt it tap the back of your head. Pulling away, you wipe the spit away from your lips as you look at Dabi in disbelief.

"What the fuck is your problem?" you mouth at him.

Tomura chuckles, pushing himself off the wall and closing in on you.

"What the fuck's your problem?" you hiss.

He simply gestures to their dicks and you sit back on your calves in disbelief.

"Well, ah, no...we're at the store and I kinda..." Spinner trails off.

"Yeah?" Dabi caresses your ear, trailing his touch down to your chin. That wavering glare on your face...fuck, nothing gets him harder. His cock twitches again and you curse out the both of them as you jerk them both off.

"I left my keys inside the store," Spinner admits with a sigh.

"Seriously?" Dabi laughs when you leave petty kitten licks along his cock.

"Man, I swear I thought I got it on me before I left," He elects to ignore Toga whispering/hissing at him that she told him so to instead strain his ears to hear his bosses response.

"You gotta do better than that," Tomura says. It makes Spinner's shoulders droop; "I know, man. I'll double check before we leave next time."

"Yeah, that's good," Tomura praises as you spit onto his dick, the friction alleviating.

"Yeah, so, where are you guys eating at?"

"What?" Dabi sighs when you bring both of their tips together, kissing them while your hands jerk them both.

"Uh, said you were at eating lunch?"

"Shit, yeah," Tomura groans when you take his dick in again. Dabi clenches his jaw when you cup his balls and squeeze them gently. He wonders for a moment if you did the same with that Taishiro and Shota that night. It tightens his expression into a sour one.

"Huh?" Spinner's voice pulls him away.

"We took Tomura's car. Might take awhile. Why don't you guys chill out at that cafe nearby," Dabi bites out.

"Uh — Oh —"

The line is disconnected.

"'Kay...?"

The air is biting. Despite the layers he has on him. The tropical temperatures had spoiled him and his winter coats were annoyingly heavy as they pressed against his body — his shoulders feeling particularly heavy. Winter was just horrible, really. Other then the hot drinks and using it as an excuse to find a body to curl up with.

There was also the added bonus of covering up and hiding your face too. This time, without the humidity of a facemask during a warm day.

Keigo lets the pros and cons of snow flurry in his mind as his long legs guide him to The Villains Hideout. This side of town had a less intimidating aura when everyone was bundled up. It made him chuckle from behind his neck scarf. These tatted up men and women just looked like emo grandma's — those titanium piercings must be frigid.

He stops in front of the store and spots a few people gathered around a glass coffee table and low couch, the neon words hung above the couch shining a comforting yellow as all of them share a laugh.

Keigo presses on, the door sensor going off and immediately turning heads.

You honestly hadn't expected to get any customers. It wasn't a snow storm, but the streets were somewhat bare. Toga and Twice greet the bundled up man, standing as they held onto their warm mugs of tea/coffee. Dabi and you sat next to each other and instantly noticed the clothes he wore.

They were branded. Expensive. New.

The both of you shared a glance.

Tomura briefly mentioned of Dabi coming from a pretty affluential yet shitty family. You weren't sure if you should feel glad you were right about Dabi having parental issues, but it explained a lot. You leaned into Tomura to flutter your lashes up at him and he deliberately stands to ignore you.

"I didn't make an appointment. I hope that's okay," Spinner's ears twitch. That tone of voice. Where has he heard it before?

"Oh, sure. That's cool. You in here for ink or for piercings?" Toga takes a page out of your book and blinks rapidly. She's been dying to stab someone a million times with her needles. Tomura would tell her to stop saying it like that, but he finds it too amusing to do so.

Keigo approaches the counter after offering everyone else a polite nod. With his back to the waiting area, the four of you — Dabi, Spinner, Twice, and you — shamelessly eye him from top to bottom. When he removes the beanie, Spinner nearly jumps into the air.

"Holy shit," he slams a palm onto Twice's knee. The man flinches, bewildered. You're still squinting, leaning back into Dabi's shoulders as you sip on your drink. "What? Ya' know him?" Dabi is acting like the man isn't a feet away from him. You elbow him to remind him to keep his volume into a whisper.

"That's Takami Keigo. The model."

"Whoah? Really!?" Twice is smacked on his shoulder by Spinner, making him yelp.

Tomura offers Keigo a lipless, pursed, smile at the commotion behind him. "Don't mind 'em. They're fucking dumbasses," Keigo laughs. It's practiced. Something you'd hear from a guest during some late night show.

"Nah, it's alright." Takami Keigo, model. He was easy on the eyes. Strong brows, deep double eyelid crease and a nice curve to his nose. Tomura can see why he's plastered on nearly every mens magazine and interviewed for the womens magazines. He wasn't much a gossip — everyone in the store would disagree — but Tomura is active online.

Takami was private. He had interviews and posted semi-actively on his social media accounts, sure. But outside of what he allowed to be known, he was practically a hermit crab.

"So, piercing?" Toga hides her disappoint as Takami nods. He had nice lobe piercings but nothing too unconventional. Comes with the profession, Tomura supposes. Your body is no longer really yours.

"Is it okay if we discuss this in a more private setting?" Takami was straightforward. Yet, the tone he said it in just makes you loosen up. It's those honey coloured eyes.

Or maybe Tomura was just gay.

Toga and him share a glance but he nods and motions for Takami to the hallway. Dabi cocks a brow as Tomura curls his finger for him to come hither. He cocks his brow again when you're suddenly standing with him.

"What? I just wanna get more experience," you defended.

"D'you have some sort of piercing fetish? You do know it's illegal to make people unknowillingly participate in your kinks, right?" Dabi swings an arm around your shoulders to catch your head between his bicep and chest, smiling at your grunt as he messes with your hair.

It simultaneously irritates you and soothes you.

Curse him and his delicious muscle mass.

Takami is dressed down now. His goose-feathered padded jacket, and branded beanie neatly folded over a chair in the corner. You pause in the doorway. Dabi slips past you and Takami eyes him for a moment then you.

You smile and lean against the doorway, curling one leg over your ankle as your boyfriends prepared the consent form.

"It's pretty straightforward," Tomura says, "honestly though, doing it while it's cold out isn't the best choice."

"Hah, I know, I know," he waves a hand around and tugs at his cashmere scarf, "I meant to do it when it was warmer but I've never gotten around to it. Might as well bite the bullet and just get it over it. No shirtless photoshoots during winter either."

Takami pauses for a moment then ping-pongs his eyes between the three of you once again.

"Actually, uh. Like I said, my friends told me about this place. They mentioned a (Y/N)."

Your name sounded pretty coming from him. It made blood rush to your cheeks and you straightened up considerably.

"Me?"

You're hot. You, and your boyfriends. Keigo can see why Shota and Taishiro told him about you. Though he hasn't exactly understood the whole kink vibe they were talking about. Polyamory wasn't kinky — just a relationship dynamic. He knew his dominants knew that better than anyone, so Keigo just nodded and waited for it to unfold.

He trusted his doms and their choices, but he did appreciate them giving him a chance to scope the scene, so to speak. The three of you were strangers after all, to him and his dominants. Plus, they didn't even know if you'd be down for mingling private parts as a group.

"I heard you're good at what you do," Takami tilts his head, leaning back on his hands on the bench. A husky laugh erupts from the dark-haired man. The iPad is dwarfed as his long fingers as he precariously holds it like a tray over his shoulder, his other hand cupping his elbow.

"He's good, but he isn't ready for a nipple piercing. Not yet."

"But he'll be more than happy to watch."

Ah. There it was. Introduced to him with such a charming smirk. It's entirely wolf-like. You nod eagerly, eyes twinkling as you settle next to Tomura. Instantly, he reaches to wrap an arm around your waist. His usually cold fingers were warm from the hot mug of tea and you relished in it as he 'sneakily' slipped them up your sweater. It was casual PDA, perhaps a bit too much in a closed room, but Keigo didn't mind. He signed the consent form, ignoring the slow drips of fire down south.

Dabi looked over the consent form once it was signed. "Hope you don't mind taking off your shirt in front of people," the jokes makes Takami chuckle. He reaches for the hem of his sweater and pulls up.

It glints in the light, catching your eye instantly. Takami folds his clothes on his lap and sets it aside. It's titanium, looking like a complete circle with no ridges or bumps. There didn't seem to be any sight of a way to unclasp it, other then a thin — barely noticeable — slit. It rests comfortably around his neck, not tight enough to be a choker and instead demurely laying on his collarbone. Tomura instantly recognizes it, while you were intrigued. Dabi sets everything up, knowing one of you would ask.

"Nice collar," Tomura's words make Takami...bashful. His lips curl into an appreciative grin and you're prompted to ask; "What is it for?"

"It's an infinity collar, (Y/N)." Your boyfriend answers, Takami nods in confirmation. Takami strokes the front of it, his wine-red polished nails looking oh-so-pretty.

“It’s different for every dynamic, but my doms and I enjoy the permanent collar aspect. It’s soothing in a sense. Plus, it looks good on me.”

“Anything looks good on you, you’re a model,” you say light-heartedly. His laugh is airy this time, less talk show and more casual. “So, it’s an ownership thing?” Dabi slides over the cart of instruments. “For us, yeah. We’re busy people and it’s just a nice reminder outside of our scenes.” He lands his sights on you and Tomura, contemplating for a brief second.

"You've actually met my doms before. Aizawa and Taishiro."

You cough. A shoulder jerking, curling over, coughing fit kinda cough. Tomura rubs your back, using your surprise as a way to hide his. It’s been a couple of weeks since that encounter. Other than Dabi’s possessive scenes and dissuading Tomura from stalking their socials, you’d almost forgotten all about them.

"They have a thing for pretty boys, don't they?" Dabi’s smooth with his reply. Shitty bastard. You find your composure. Extremely glad that you weren’t gulping down any water at that moment. Jesus, talk about a small world. Your boycunt and asscheeks still ache from your boyfriend's bout of possessive sex.

Takami smirks. Those golden eyes look at you again, swallowing you up.

"Guess they do, but to be fair — you three made quite the impression."

“These two were bizarre, I’m sure Sho — your doms were just being nice.” Nice recovery, Tomura thinks with a small scoff. You were glad to know they didn’t think you and your boyfriends were complete weirdos, finally, you could sleep easier at night.

“Don’t listen to him. (Y/N) is just embarrassed we fucked him in the hallway while your old men were listening in,” Dabi motions for him to sit up straight, placing his hand on Takami's chest.

“Oh, they weren’t just listening,” Takami replies.

You’re dreaming. You’ve had some pretty sexy dreams before, this must be one of those extremely realistic ones. Tomura is going to wake you up with his fingers inside of you while Dabi’s licking at your chest because of how you were moaning at this dream orgy. Yeah, that’s it.

There is no fucking way this just falls onto your lap.

Takami's collar glints, the light catching your eye and you feel envious. That must be nice, that nice weight on the base of your neck as a constant reminder. You could definitely plan an outfit that’d go with it.

“My doms and I, we’ve been humouring the idea of an orgy. They seem very interested in the three of you and I wanted nipple piercings. One stone, six birds.”

Dabi and Tomura don’t even need to land their sights on you to know you’re wide-eyed and expecting. Threesomes were their wheelhouse; orgies? That takes a bit more coordination, trust, discussions, and condoms — Oh god, so many more condoms.

“You don’t have to answer right away,” Takami assures with a wave of his hand. “Just a suggestion. I don’t want you to be trembling while piercing me.”

“They’re still sensitive after your top surgery?” Dabi is pleasantly surprised by his nod. “Not as sensitive as they used to be but I’m grateful the old doctor who did it still had it in him to preserve them.”

His chest was the envy of all men. Firm and filled out, the scars he had nearly all the way gone. Still, you wonder if he’d enjoy the sight of you licking them and telling him how sexy he was.

Tomura squeezes you again. As if he knows the filthy thoughts your brain is conjuring.

Dabi warns Takami about the pinch he’d feel. “You honestly don’t feel the first one at all, the adrenaline helps. The second nipple is going to hurt a bit more, need anything to squeeze, Takami?”

“Call me Keigo, please. I offered all of you to get into an orgy with me, might as well get into the first name basis.”

Keigo calls out your name and Tomura’s. He holds out a hand and you slip yours in while Tomura stands by his legs, placing his hold there. Keigo’s not sure if this will turn into a new fixation but seeing three handsome men stare down at him was making his crotch feel all sorts of things.

Primarily, it’s feeling the urge to be used, but Keigo’s a good boy.

A very good boy.

You, on the other hand, are not. Keigo was a messenger with gold wings and you were raised right, dammit. A guest should not leave with nothing — ignoring the fact he is getting a piercing — and so you lean down and brush the hair away from his face.

His eyes widen as how close your face is. This is familiar. Your first encounter with Dabi flashes through your mind and you smile as you cup his face.

“A distraction great for piercings. Need one?”

“Or two?” Tomura’s hands are resting on his knees now.

Dabi shakes his head as he laughs under his breath. What else did Keigo expect, offering such a scandalous proposition to you? He supposes he deserves this and, really, he should get to know you three to some degree.

Just to test the chemistry.

“I’m not allowed to cum,” he says as Tomura’s hands travel to his thighs. You coo as you tease him with your lips hovering over his. Your grip on his hand loosens and tightens, mimicking his racing heart. His throat is closing up like it always does, but Keigo pushes through to speak.

“But I’m allowed to make three of you cum.”

“Tell us your colours when you need to,” Dabi reminds him as he sanitizes the piercing spot. “That means, no kissing, (Y/N).”

Keigo and you turn to look at Dabi, eyebrows furrowed in despair. He simply stares ahead.

“It isn’t fair that Keigo’s the only one with rules. You’re not allowed to kiss him, Tomura’s not allowed to suck his dick —”

“What the fuck!?”

“And I’m not allowed to participate. I’ll just watch.”

Tomura is aghast. Bewildered. Shocked. Bamboozled.

Him? Shigaraki “I Give The Best Head” Tomura, not allowed to go down on a man’s penis?

He wants to smack Dabi but the man is prepping to pierce and Keigo needs a distraction. Dabi doesn’t need to open his stupid fucking mouth, but Tomura connects their gazes and he knows what that raised brow means.

‘Can’t get someone off with your fingers? Lame.’

Dabi is lucky Tomura is his boyfriend.

Keigo gasps when he undoes his pants, pulling them down to his knees and squeezing the flesh of his thighs. Keigo is smooth, clean-shaven, and so soft. His cunt is warm, his cock big and twitching under the layer of his boxers and Tomura’s mouth salivates.

Dabi simply hums as Tomura cusses him out.

“That’s too bad, Keigo,” you whisper. “Tomura, his mouth is fucking amazing. You’d love it, baby.” Keigo is not even looking at his chest. Torn between your lips or Tomura’s fingers cupping his crotch.

“Fuck, what a big cock,” Tomura can feel it. It was half the length of his thumb. He so badly wants to see Keigo and your cock frotagging together. So badly wants to see it fuck into your boycunt.

The first piercing happens and you press a kiss to Keigo’s forehead while Tomura jerks him off through his boxers.

“O-oh, fuck.”

Taishiro and Shota weren’t joking. He definitely understood their point now. His half-on pants were limiting his ability to widen his legs but Tomura sees it as a non-issue. Simply providing the pretty model with his services while his thighs pin his hands between them.

“Good boy,” you murmur against his forehead. It makes Keigo’s throat close and he whines so sweetly, the sound coming out in a rumbly song that makes your eyes crinkle.

“Good boy.”

It makes Keigo whine again and Dabi fixes the jewellery in place.

“Hey, hey, no need to buck,” Tomura chides, pulling his hand away as he pins his hips down. Keigo freezes, wetting his lips as he stares at yours.

“So needy,” you purr out.

The second piercing goes through and Keigo gasps this time, tightening his hold on your hand and you soothe him with kiss on his cheek this time.

He wants to cum. The thought is shocking to Keigo. He doesn’t go against his doms, never even thinks too really. He relishes in rewards and praise.

But.

He wants to cum.

So fucking badly.

“All done, baby,” Dabi stands and Tomura fixes Keigo’s pants up. You still look down at him, like some devilish saint as you blatantly break the one rule imposed on you.

You kiss him and Keigo wants to cum.

But Keigo’s a good boy.

He takes a moment to calm down, the three of you are good at grounding him with easy-to-answer questions and squeezes to his bicep and featherlight touches to his face. When he gets his bearings, he pulls his phone out.

He wants to cum with you, (Y/N).

He’ll show you just how good he can be.

He pretends not to be excited in the taxi cab home when he realises his number was added into a groupchat with all of you.

Fuck, he needs to cum. This taxi cab is not fast enough. He needs to cum now.

Keigo appears in front of Taishiro’s home and the tall man smiles sweetly at his darling pet's flustered expression, Shota greeting him as Keigo walks in.

“Please, please, please.”

You can barely see past your nose. The blindfold across your eyes makes everything darker and fuzzier. This heightens your other senses. You can hear the shibari ropes creak as you breathe and squirm in the air. His beard tickles your thighs and your legs jerk but they don’t move. Your arms are tied behind your back, wrists bound together in a pretty pattern as Shota’s white rope digs into your chest and thighs. Being suspended in air is frightening, you feel like you’re constantly teetered on the edge.

You had no control. Completely defenceless and open. Hung from the ceiling like fresh meat.

It makes your cunt so wet, Shota’s lapping it up like a starved dog. The entire process of him tying you up has made you sink so deep into subspace it made Tomura fully intrigued. The sight of your body going lax as the ropes applied pressure. The sighs of pleasure you let out despite not being touched in any sexual manner.

Tomura has never been interested in shibari before but if he gets to see you like this again, he might talk to Shota way more often for tips.

Fuck, the white rope against your (S/C) skin made him so hard. The sheen of sweat against your skin, running down the curve of your back and thighs — Keigo gags on his dick and Tomura groans out his appreciation. Taishiro chuckles as he guides Keigo’s head up and down Tomura’s member.

“Easy, doll. Relax your throat,” Taishiro reaches under Keigo’s jaw and Dabi feels particularly empty as he sees the way the big man’s cock chubs up. Taishiro can feel Tomura’s dick in Keigo’s throat and he keeps the blonde boy snuggly against his pelvis, when Keigo begins to choke he carefully pulls his head back. Keigo coughs, lips shining with spit as he sticks his tongue out.

Keigo is quiet, Shota tells them. Though he is a confident man on camera — and off — when it comes to intimate moments, Keigo is quiet. He simply prefers to be, to just get lost in the feelings of pleasure. Taishiro told them Keigo will be a bit shy at first is all, that he’ll warm up soon enough.

Soon is now. He’s whining again, looking at the three men in slight distress. “What is it, doll? What do you need?” Taishiro strokes through his hair and Keigo twists his head to look at you.

Fuck. Look at you.

You’re sucking in a breath, back arching as your toes curl from Shota’s talented mouth. Your fingers are indecisive. One second clutching the air and the next, letting go. You’re tossing your head to the side, mouth open as your chest heaves up and down.

The lights in the room make your skin look good enough to eat. You’re a filthy angel caught in the net of a demon named Shota. He’s kneeled as he tastes you, his hair tied into a bun and so deliciously salt-and-peppery it makes Dabi grab at his dick.

Shota’s beard is soaked and you’re losing your mind in the best way possible. They can tell you’rs about cum. They can see it in the vein that threatens to jump out from your neck and the way you’re trying so hard to form sentences but your tongue is like lead and you’re simply saying; please.

Over and over again.

Taishiro tears his eyes away as Keigo paws at his thighs.

He desperately wants to fuck you. Taishiro stifles a laugh, walking past Keigo to sit between Tomura and Dabi, arching a brow as Dabi casually leans down to stroke his thick dick.

“You know the rules, doll. If you wanna fuck him, you gotta ask his daddies.”

“You? Fuck our baby? Think you can even make him cum? He’s very spoiled ya’ know, he’ll whine and kick and yell if you’re not pleasing him,” Tomura says as he taps his lap. Keigo crawls to him, kissing the skin sweetly as he looks up at Tomura.

“I...I can make him cum,” he says quietly. Taishiro reaches over to ruffle Keigo’s head, scratching under his chin. “Keigo’s a very good boy. Shota and I trained him well.”

Tomura pretends to think about it. Keigo begs between his legs, pumping his cock as he kisses up the sides, splattering precum on his chin when it bumps there but not losing a beat as he kisses Tomura’s cockhead.

Shota pulls away from you when he hears footsteps. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand while you catch your breath. Keigo kneels beside him and Tomura settles behind your suspended self. He laughs wickedly when you jump from his sudden touch to your sides.

“A-asshole,” you shakily hiss out. He kisses your arm as an apology while Shota guides Keigo to your dripping cock.

You can tell the difference between them. While Shota’s technique was intent on making you last long and your orgasms gut-punchingly good. Keigo just wants to cum on his face. You squeak at his hunger.

It’s messy. So fucking messy. Your slick is on his lips, his chin, practically dripping down his neck. He uses his fingers to spread your cunt apart and when he plunges his tongue inside, you moan like a true porn star.

Tomura has a hand on Keigo’s head, reaching from behidn your torso as he guides him. Setting a pace that isn’t going to wear out your poor cunt too quickly, despite how tempting the thought of fucking your oversensitive pussy is — Tomura purposefully pushes Keigo’s face in just to hear his muffled groans and your breath hitching as his tongue deeper slips inside at the risk of Keigo losing his ability to breathe.

“Keigo! Fuh - Fuck, feels — Tuh-tuh much! Ngh!”

Keigo looks concerned for a moment but Tomura just smirks.

“Keep going, doll. He can take it. C’mon, this is what you wanted. Right?” Keigo nods and your entire body shakes as you feel an orgasm rip through you. Keigo moans as you cum all over his face, panting beneath you. His hot breath makes you lift your hips, whimpering at the stimulation despite how light it was.

Tomura slaps your cunt and you squeal.

“Just one more time, baby. Keigo’s hungry for you.”

Shota settles next to Dabi, putting him between Taishiro and himself. Dabi lifs his head away from Taishiro’s dick, jaw aching the tiniest bit before he turns to the sight of Shota’s dick. He kisses Shota, licking away you from his lips and lightly sucking on his tongue before he leans down. He kisses the top scars, enjoying the feeling of his chest hair against his face before he goes further down and takes Shota’s hard dick into his mouth.

The man sighs, threading his fingers through Dabi’s inky black hair. Taishiro and him share a kiss, groaning into it for entirely different reasons though both related to Dabi. Shota can feel him pressing just under his dick, rubbing the spot that makes him bite down on Taishiro’s lips.

“Gonna cum?” Dabi purrs, so smug at Shota’s flushed face. It disappears when Taishiro rearranges himself, pressing his crotch to Dabi’s ass.

“Hey —”

“Relax. I’m not going to fuck you. Just grind against you. You’ve got a great ass...and a hot back tattoo.” Dabi shivers as Taishiro’s large hands run down his back. Every time he breathes, the dragons on his back do too and Taishiro wants to paint it with white.

“Colour?” Taishiro asks.

“Green, baby.”

You’re set down on the bed. The air conditioning in the room making your sweat feel a bit cold and uncomfortable but that’s hard to focus on when you feel Shota spread your thighs again.

Keigo is moaning beside you. Open-mouthed gasps and raspy groans as Tomura fucks his asshole. A rule that was implemented by Keigo’s dominants. His cunt was for them and his ass was for their guests. The blindfold that was still on you made it hard to predict his next move but you feel his cock tap onto your hole and you shakily open your legs further. Shota chuckles, sliding his dick up so you feel it rub against your swollen dick.

“Fuck me, please. Just fuck me already.”

“He doesn’t say please much does he?” Dabi laughs at Shota’s comment. It gets cut off by a groan as Taishiro rims his hole, so Tomura answers for him.

“He’s a fucking brat. But we like him that way. Makes us fucking — “ Keigo yelps at a rough thrust, his strap-on slapping onto his wet stomach — “work for it.”

You feel Keigo reach for your wrist and you clasp your hands together, wishing you could see just how wrecked he was. He sounded like he was being fucked within an inch of his life. You wanted to see, but alas, you were given this blindfold because Dabi once again thought it’d only be fair that both subs got some sort of rule.

“Poor Keigo,” he said during the discussion of rules and limitations.

You wanted to punch him in his perfect face —

“Ahh! Oh- oh fuck!”

Shota is fucking you with his dick. It’s thick, stretching your poor cunt out as you squeeze around it. Though not as long, the way he moves his hips as you baring your neck as you toss your head back.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

Keigo wants to kiss you. He twists his torso and you gasp into his mouth, teeth briefly clacking against the other as you made out.

“You look suh-so pretty,” Keigo whispers. You grip onto his hand.

“I wanna see you, please...ngh! Fuck, please, Keigo.”

There you go again. Tempting good Keigo into breaking rules. He seems distraught by your pleas and Tomura grips his hair. He yowls, asshole stretching as Tomura pushes in deeper.

“Shota, turn him onto his hands and knees. Need to shut our darling (Y/N) up before he corrupts your obedient doll more.”

Dabi has Taishiro pinned to the end of the bed. Fucking up into him as he watches you suck Keigo’s silicone cock. It’s truly a talent you have. Slobbering over dick despite how good someone is fucking into your pussy.

Dabi is so proud of you.

“Dabi, guh-god, those piercings,” Taishiro chokes out. “Feels good, doesn’t it, big guy?” Taishiro nods, clutching onto the already soiled bedsheets.

Keigo is going insane. You’re sucking his dick and you look so fucking good. Licking his tip, kissing the sides and taking it into your mouth. He moans with each action, entranced by how sincere your actions are. He bucks into your mouth despite Tomura not moving and thrusts into your mouth and back into Tomura completely unprompted.

Ah, he wants to see you look up at him. He can feel you moan around his dick as Shota fucks into you and he wants to see your eyes flutter and go cross eyed. Tomura laughs as Keigo wretches his hands away to rip your blindfold off.

Youre disorientated for a minute. Adjusting to the lights as you struggle to breathe through your nose.

Keigo feels shame but vindication. You’re looking up at him and fuck you’re beautiful.

“Bad boy,” Taishiro reprimands.

But Keigo doesn’t care. Because you pull away, tongue stuck out and grinning.

You looked so proud of him.

Keigo cums around Tomura’s dick, you take his cockhead into your mouth and he’s grateful as he imagines himself cumming down your throat.

You’re kissing up Keigo’s chest, stroking his sides as all of you come down. Panting and soft moans echoed through the room as aftershocks of pleasure ran through everyone's nerves.

Shota is the first to get up, but Tomura forbids it as he circles his waist and pulls back down in the mess of sweaty bodies. “Stay,” he whispers and Shota nods as he cradles Tomura’s head to his chest. Taishiro lay on Dabi’s lap, he was itching for a cigarette but he remained on the large bed just watching over everyone for a moment.

“Baby,” he whispers to Taishiro. “I’m gonna get us water, can I do that?” Taishiro appreciates the gentleness Dabi is exhibiting. He lifts his head and Dabi slips out the room to get everyone some refreshments. He places it by the bedside tables, wiping down you and Keigo.

“Want Keigo’s dick in you?” you nod at Dabi’s question, curling your leg across his hips tighter and Keigo turns to kiss your forehead.

Dabi, Shota, Tomura and Taishiro chuckle at the sight. They slowly sit up, chatting quietly whilst wiping themselves down.

“We should definitely do this again,” Dabi says whilst Tomura cleans his back. Shota leans against Taishiro’s soft front, nodding as he strokes Keigo’s back.

“I agree. I’d love to teach your brat manners.”

You huff and simply hide your face in Keigo’s neck. The blonde smiles, simply allowing you too.

“And I’d love corrupting your doll,” you reply smugly.

“So, we’re all in agreement,” Taishiro coos out.

“Fuck yeah, we are, are you kidding me?” Tomura scoffs. “There is no way this is just a one time thing. B’sides, look at those two bottoms, they’re attached already.”

“Hm,” Dabi muses. “It’d be mean to pull them away. Poor Keigo, poor (Y/N).”

Your body is protesting the thought but, fuck, you cannot wait for the next time. Keigo can feel you clench around his cock and he thinks the same as you.

[thetreefairy]

Platonic Aizawa and Present mic where they reader looks like they’re about to having a mental breakdown any second and she doesn’t take her medication. (I just cheek my medication or just don’t take them)

Warnings: mental breakdowns, reader hates meds (like me), forced medicine intake, talks of punishments since she/her pronouns are used in the ask, those will be used. KO-FI

Reader hates her meds, everyone knew it, it was quite obvious. Often their friends in 1-a had to beg them to take her medication. And Reader took her medication so that they wouldn’t tell Aizawa or his partner Hizashi.

Only this time, Hizashi and Aizawa noticed themselves. 

“Reader is scared, she had been targeted by Dabi herself, so maybe she simply didn’t notice the way she was acting.” Hizashi told Aizawa, trying to defuse the situation. Aizawa always had the worst yandere tendencies of the two. “Iida told me she didn’t take her meds 5 times this week.” Aizawa hissed at Hizashi. “I am simply going to check if she took them.”

“Reader.” Aizawa tapped Reader’s shoulder, they were in the library. “Aizawa-sensei?” Reader mumbled out. “What is wrong, is there a new mission?”

Aizawa shook his head. “No, did you take your medication?”

Reader chuckled nervously; “So that’s what you want..”

“Did you take them?” Aizawa pressed, Reader shook her head. “They make me feel slow, I need to be on guard right now.”

This was an obvious lie.

“You are completely safe in U.A, and if I remember correctly you have no home visits.” Aizawa stated. “So that excuse is bullshit, follow me.”

“But, I still have to study sensei.”

“You can study later.” Aizawa hissed. “Don’t make me drag you.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll follow you.” Reader mumbled. Aizawa asked Hizashi to follow them as well. “What is this an intervention?” Reader joked when they arrived in the teacher lounge, the place she was usually brought to when she was going to get scolded. She then saw Hizashi pull her meds out.

“You are going to be taking your meds in front of us now.” Hizashi told her gently. “And if you don’t we will have to punish you.” Aizawa interrupted. Reader’s eyes widened; “Excuse me? You guys aren’t my parents!”

“We might as well be.” Hizashi mumbled, and Aizawa nodded in agreement. “Your parents are doing a shit job, letting you skip your medication so much.”

“Hizashi-sensei! How dare you talk about my parents like that!” Reader stood up angrily, and made the movement to walk away. Aizawa grabbed the pill out of his partner’s hand and showed it to Reader. “You better sit down, take your fucking pill and listen to us.”

“Fuck off.” Reader hissed, still angry at how they insulted their parents. Reader started to walk away only to be stopped by Aizawa's capture weapon. Hizashi moved to hold Reader down, cooing at them. “I am not mad at you, don’t worry.” He said as he saw Reader doing their best to get out of his arms. “I will forgive you for swearing at us if you take your meds.”

Reader shook her head, she didn’t want to take her medication. Especially around them, they seemed weirder than usual. And her medication makes her quirk weaker.

Hizashi tried to convince Reader to take it, and when Aizawa finally had enough he opened their mouth and put the pills in her mouth.

Before she could spit them out, he shut her mouth with his hand and closed her nose, forcing her to swallow the pills.

“Assholes.” Reader breathed out when she could speak again. “Now that is no way to speak to us.” Hizashi scolded Reader. “Maybe we should show the police the shit your parents have been pulling then we really will be your parents.”