#shouta x you

[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.

[imagination-mess]

Reality Show: Pro Heroes Wives (Aizawa Shota Edition)

Reference to Rika from Bakugou and Pro Hero from Kirishima and Midoriya

*mentions you have 3 children (Eri/Shinsou/your own with Aizawa)*

________________________________

There is a reality show where pro heroes' wives are on television and paid to be there. It is filled with juicy gossip and pure drama. There are few wives in this second season who were kept out of the spotlight which adds mystery and theories to be created about who they were married to. 

The same winners who were in the group that couldn’t be identified are back this season as a surprise challenge.  Unlike last season, it wasn’t told in the very  beginning of this reason already revealed which Pro Heroes Wives will be featured

There are only a few left remaining without being matched, which were mostly underground heroes who people don’t typically pay attention to. Half of the cast already knew each other because their spouses have interacted on more than one occasion and are disqualified from participating in the weekend challenge of the show for those spouses. The others who do not know have to identify them, but the others did not spill any things that would clue who their spouse was. 

This weekend's challenge was the ones who didn’t get their rating from the public are put to guess their opponent chosen by the directors of who their spouses are, people are having a hard time guessing at home as well. These wives have pictures of other pro heroes which confuses the public about who their spouses were. It was a friendly picture to professional pictures that had been taken. 

The two members, Rika, and Pro Hero [Blank] who were also voted off from the show by their peers had made their decision. They make this decision based on their friends and notes taken throughout the show. 

 It was you, they had to guess who your spouse is. The two ladies stood on the platform while you were sitting on the red couch seat with a wine glass in your hands. There was a screen behind you with a black box with an enormous question mark. You were confident they wouldn't be able to guess correctly. You have been on the hot seat a few times. You also know they wouldn't be able to because they have very little information about underground heroes, which you have been told by your husbands’ former students' wives. 

“We chose Pro Hero Mindjack,” Rika speaks into the microphone while the screen reveals the pro hero at the latest picture of the Hero Gala beside them. 

There was an immediate reaction from you which was coughing on your wine with eyes widened. Your facial expression shows how shocked you were. and the crowd who were within the circle of the pro hero were screaming “HOW” to cough on their drinks.

“Based on the comment you mentioned this week was that your husband's quirk involves a specific muscle in the body.” Pro Hero [Blank] adding an explanation. 

“What do you say to that? Miss [Former Last Name]?” The host asks for your input. 

“Mindjack is a very handsome man, but he is way too young for me. Here is a clue,  I am a mother of 3. I am confident my oldest son is having some sort of reaction to this but don’t expect a reaction on social media. You are not going to find it. Additionally, my oldest son is around his age.” 

Meanwhile, on social media, people were going crazy about the fact you looked younger than your age to be a mother of three. No one could find the children that related to you, because you never did post them on your social media including your spouse. It was a very professional account which disappointed some fans of the show. They aren’t able to figure out who your spouse is.

Proherofan34 tweeted: All I am hearing is that [Name] is milf. 

Uravityfan89 tweets: I need her skincare routine! *attaches its mighty need. * 

There are videos of you including from seasons 1 and 2 clips of you with the audio sound of Mommy, sorry to step on me. Other videos of being a collaboration of your top moments of being unbothered along with your greatest comebacks from season 1. You humbled certain younger women. There were old videos of you throwing a man twice your size out of a nightclub along with videos of being a momma bear to those who needed help at the nightclub circling the internet. 

There were multiple pictures of you and younger Shinsou with a few others such as Bakugou, and Kaminari at different metal musician group concerts that circled around the interest taken from the Pro Hero Chargebolt account.

The clue you had given to the cast and to the public had narrowed the options to two options the Pro Heroes who have 3 children had mentioned in interviews and such. 

Pro Hero Eraserhead, Pro Hero Hawks, and Pro Hero Gang Orca. 

Meanwhile, Eri is holding out her hand out at Hitoshi who was pulling out his wallet for the money. He has lost the bet. Eri is glued to the show and watching too intensely to the point that she is rambling about her theories with her brother and father. 

Shota is just staring at them silently in disbelief with the toddler sleeping on his lap. 

‘I am not gonna even ask.’

Pro Hero Deku Edition

Pro Hero Dynamight Edition

Pro Hero Shoto Edition

Pro Hero Red Riot Edition

Pro Hero Hellfire (Touya) Edition

Pro Hero Mindjack Edition

Reality Show: Unmasked Pro Heroes

[amaya-writes]

Day One: And Then There Was One...Bed (BNHA x Reader Smut)

Day One of Amaya's New Year's Event

Summary: After a tiring day assisting your hero at the commission's Christmas party all you wanted to do was collapse in your hotel room and sleep the night away, however, things take a surprising turn when you find out each agency was only given one room...with one bed.

Warnings: smut!!! NSFW, MDNI!! sub Hawks, oral (both receiving), raw sex, dom reader, dom Aizawa, use of words like kitten, fingering

Characters involved: Hawks, Aizawa

Keigo Takami (Hawks)

You shouldn't be doing this.

A small smile tugged on your lips as you allowed your fingers to card through his feathers, the action eliciting a shiver from your pro hero as he leaned further into your touch.

The sight made your grin widen as you felt Keigo trail his hot fingers across the swell of your ass, causing you to softly grind against his touch as you allowed yourself a quick peck before completely pulling away from him.

"We really shouldn't be doing this, Keigo."

Other pro heroes would have taken your words as a reason to stop and never look you in the eyes again, but Keigo was different. He was young. You and stupid and everything you thought you left behind after graduating from UA.

And he was needy. So, so needy.

It was why he allowed a small whine to slip past his lips as Keigo's grip tightened on your bare skin.

Stay, he said. And you listened.

You listened even if you knew better than to kneel between your pro hero's legs and slot his dripping cock between your lips, you listened even if you knew a pro hero's position wasn't between his side kick's legs sucking at her core.

Low groans and moans echoed through the hotel room as the two of you made love to each other. Because that was what this was. Not random sex, but making love.

He caressed your body with the hands of worship and you tainted him with a sinner's touch.

Keigo was clumsy, and clearly didn't know what he was doing. He couldn't have had sex more than a handful of times, not with the commission breathing down his neck day and night, but he was eager. Eager and so ready to learn.

He didn't say anything when you tugged at his blond strands and pushed his mouth close to your core. He didn't protest when you told him to sit up against the headboard and climbed on his lap.

The only sound that escaped his lips were moans of pleasure as he egged you on with his words.

Don't stop. So you didn't. Let me cum for you. So you let him.

You wanted to be meaner, to pull away at the last second and make him whine for your touch. But you couldn't. Not when he was looking at you like you hung the sun in the sky.

He looked at you with the eyes of worship, you looked at him like you wanted to severe his faith.

Nobody would know about what transpired between the two of you that night. But nobody needed to know.

Because Keigo Takami might have been the powerful number two hero to the rest of Japan, but to you, he was the pro hero who fell to his knees for his side kick.

Even if it was just for a night.

Aizawa Shouta

It'll be fine he said. We're mature adults who can handle ourselves, he said. I'll be asleep even before you realise it, he said.

Yeah, right.

Aizawa Shouta might have been a pro hero who prided himself on his self-restraint and poise, but the way his lips trailed hickeys down your neck while his fingers curled into the waistband of your pyjamas certainly made it seem otherwise.

It had been hours since the two of you first stumbled into your hotel room tired and ready to collapse, but neither of you had gotten a wink of sleep since the second you lied down beside each other.

At first, he had used the blaring red 2:00 am on the hotel's alarm clock as an excuse to strike up a conversation about how both of you wouldn't be able to get any work done the next day if you didn't sleep.

Then came the cuddling because it was cold enough for you to feel like your toes were going to fall off.

But somewhere between the clock striking three and your lips find his, the two of you had found yourself tangled in each other's limbs with a salacious need gnawing at your mind.

This was wrong. Both of you knew it was.

Pro heroes weren't supposed to spend their nights with their fingers stuffed into their side kick's pussy. And side kick certainly were supposed to jerk off their heroes at three in the morning.

Especially not when you were on a trip organized by the hero commission and in a hotel surrounded by dozens of heroes who could easily hear you through the thin walls.

But neither of you seemed to care much about that. Not when every fibre of your being just screamed for that delicious release.

"Shouta- I-"

You wanted to say something, anything at all. But it was hard to do anything but muffle your moans in the pillow beside your head when Aizawa was curling his fingers up into you so perfectly.

"It's okay."

He placed a chaste kiss on your jawline as he spoke, causing a small smile to tug on your lips.

"You ready to go all the way, kitten?"

You silently nodded along to his question, allowing your hand to fall limp around his length just as you felt his hand pull away.

As you watched Shouta shift so that he could tower over you with one hand pressed into the mattress and the other stroking his leaking cock, you couldn't help but feel a sudden sense of yearning consume you.

It made you whine in annoyance at the lack of his touch, a sound that elicited a chuckle from Aizawa as he reached down to finally slide his tip inside you. And then more, and more, until you could feel him bottoming out with a loud groan that drowned out your own moans.

The mattress squeaked below the two of you as you felt him began to pull out and slide back in at a painfully slow pace.

"Shouta!"

This time your call was one of desperation, the sound making him smirk against your neck as he trailed kisses down your hot skin.

"Be patient."

"But-"

He pulled away from your neck at the weak protest, choosing to stare at you with a raised eyebrow even as his hips rolled against yours.

"Trust me, kitten, I know what I'm doing."

He dropped down to place a quick peck on your lips as he spoke, the gesture causing a small smile to tug at the corner of your lips as you silently watched Aizawa reposition himself above you.

"Now, let your pro hero take care of you."

[urfavslav]

shouta idealizes taking night patrols so he can come home to you on a sunday morning cooking his favorites. he thoroughly enjoys when you brush through his hair. yes he can do it himself. (not like he has the time with hero work) but he craves your gentle touch. whether it's during that show you love watching and he prioritizes hearing your commentary over the actors voices. or whether it's right before you two go to sleep for the night while (he's supr greatful both of your work schedules line up) sleeping and taking it super easy during the day.

★ all works belong to @urfavslav , do not repost on anywhere else with or without credit, do not plagiarise. thank you !

[faulty-writes]

Hi, hello!

I found your blog on accident, but it was a really good accident. I love how you write for bnha boys and girls, haven't seen that of an accurate descriptions in a while! It's really enjoyable.

Could I request a female reader with Stymphalian Bird like quirk? Like reader has big wings with very sharp, metal feathers that she can use as blades or just shoot them out. She also has sharp claws that administer poison to the wounds and sharp teeth. Because of that, as her quirk is pretty deadly, she became a villain due to harassment and bullying, but she never kills or severely injures anyone, mostly just destroying property and stealing. However, due to the scale of the attacks, she is considered dangerous, high ranking villain.

But she does it rather to spend her anger and survive rather than actually trying to hurt anyone.

For the Bois Like Hawks, Aizawa and Izuku?

You don't have to write it if you don't want to, I tend to overcomplicate things 😅

[ I'm happy it was a happy accident for you! Apologies that this took longer than expected. Life sucks sometimes. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. ]

It didn't take a genius to figure out that while you were a high-ranking villain, you never actually shed the blood of the innocent. That's what he found most peculiar, and after months of hounding Madam President, he was finally assigned to apprehend you. Of course, he'd use that as an excuse to find out more about you and more importantly, why you spared innocent lives.

"Sorry there," the sound of your metal feathers crashing against the vacant building was a sound he wouldn't forget. "Guess I'm just a little faster than you, nice try though," he said at your first meeting. He recalled the way you growled, staring up at him with those intense eyes before again trying to strike him down.

Connecting with you was more challenging than he thought. This was even after expressing his interest in getting to know you. He even ventured as far as trying to gain your sympathy by sharing a little bit of his past, namely that his father was a villain and that's why he could understand where you were coming from, but you knew the real reason he told you this was because he hoped you'd open up. But no, you were stubborn and refused to tell a "hero" anything.

"Even with those sharp claws and teeth, you can still be a hero!" He yelled one day while engaged in another furious battle with you. His body had received a few scratches but nothing lethal, of course even if it were, he wouldn't care. He only wanted to convince you that you could still save yourself from this villainous path.

"Heh, well, it looks like you caught me," he joked, daring to smile as you pinned him against the wall with a satanic snarl. "But what's this? Not gonna use your poison, what gives? Or are you just too scared to use it?" His words sent a violent tremble through your body and as capable as you were of poisoning him, you backed away.

"You know, not that I'm much for looks even though I'm considered gorgeous by most, but you should smile more. You'd look even more beautiful than you are." You weren't sure if he meant that to be insulting or not, but why would you smile when you had sharp dangerous-looking teeth?

The two of you were locked in a fierce hand-to-hand combat session when you first met. You scared some innocent civilians and panic arose. Shota was the first on the scene and made the first move. However, he ultimately ended the fight because there was no illegal quirk usage on your end and that meant no crime was committed. You thought that would be the last time you'd see him.

He recognized your potential from the start, and while your skills could be used for a heroic purpose you were still a villain and one, he intended on stopping, yet he wasn't beyond trying to reason with you. He'd always say something along the lines of "I could care less about detaining you, but you could channel your quirk for a greater purpose." Often his words were met with more retaliation.

He taught his students about the dangers of vigilantism. There was no excuse for what they did. They were criminals, and yet he couldn't help but compare you to a young man he met years ago. He was a vigilante, but Shota let his antics slide and never thought he'd let that happen again but something inside him kept calling him back to you.

He knew it was foolish and dangerous to track you down, and he'd never forget the feeling of your claws digging into his flesh and the sickening feeling of his life slipping away because of the poison that ran through his body. Yet, even as he lay in the hospital bed, he knew that your intention wasn't to kill him and that he'd pursue you again.

You weren't sure if you were angry or relieved when he ambushed you in the alleyway. However, how he smirked at you when you pinned him against the wall with your feathers made you feel uneasy as did his words. "You didn't intend to kill me. If you really want a change in perspective, Yuuei can help you." He acted as though he cared, and you hated that.

"Don't just stand there, we may be heroes, but we all agreed to help you, and in exchange, your villain record will be erased." This was the compromise you had reached with Shota after months of arguments and being at each other's throats, you finally agreed to at least see the world of heroes. In return, Shota had promised no harm would come to you, and it was almost funny or pathetic that you believed him.

"I...I just w-want to know more about y-your quirk!" His words were coated in fear, and his eyes were fixated on your claws that were mere inches from his face. But his words also made you stop and think for a moment before declaring him a fool and shoving him to the ground.

His frequent visits quickly annoyed you, so you decided to poison the annoying pest to finally make him leave you alone. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Izuku returned after being released from the hospital. "I k-know you didn't mean to kill me! A-and that means t-that you have c-compassion!" His words were greeted with laughter. Yes, quite a stupid kid he was.

"W-why did you become a villain? Your q-quirk may seem dangerous, b-but if…if you really want, I can s-support you because I think…I think you'd make a wonderful h-hero!" A small amount of blood was shed when your claws swiped across his face, but you knew no matter how much pain you inflicted on him, he'd keep returning.

"Here, I t-thought you might be h-hungry!" You weren't sure if you were hateful or grateful because Izuku brought you food. "You n-need to eat! Even v-villains…n-not that I think you are o-one, need…need to eat!" You could hardly believe that you thanked him for said food, but hell…it was less work on your part. Villains didn't exactly get a paycheck, so you mostly relied on stealing and scaring others to get food or material means.

When he showed you his notebook and all the details, he had written about you, it changed something. It made you think and wonder why he was so interested in a villain like you. However, thinking back to your previous encounters, you realized it wasn't because he looked at you as a villain but as a person with a troubled past.

When he started bringing his "friends" to you to prove that not all heroes would judge you, there was a certain rage that seeped deep inside you. The last thing you wanted was more annoying brats around, but to your surprise, they were curious and accepting about you and spoke highly of Izuku and you almost hated yourself for agreeing that the once annoying pest was…pleasant to be around.

[neesieiumz]

basorexia: chapter 2; a devotion

professor!Shouta Aizawa x teaching assistant!reader x professor!Keigo Takami

series warnings: 18+, smut, power imbalances, dumbification, blackmail, yandere tendencies, you’re probably not gonna like Hawks in this one, miscommunication, angst, stalking, dub-con, black-coded reader, hopeful happy ending, soft-dom!Aizawa, power-dom (I don’t know if this is what you call it, but he relishes the power he has over you.), love corner (because it’s two people liking one person, making it a corner), hopeful happy ending.

series summary: Living on the edge, sleeping, and having a relationship with your boss was never on your bucket list but here you are. Locked within a tangle of arms together, you thought nothing could touch, but soon one will find out how much obsession can open all secrets. For both you and everyone around you.

Chapter summary: you meet up with your cousin for lunch, a glimpse into your study group, a faculty meeting, and a night that ends in bliss... or does it really?

Chapter warnings: smut. 18+ soft/service-dom!aizawa. cunnilingus. praise kink.

wc: 4.2k

The restaurant was a hole-in-the-wall type of place, a small restaurant/pub that’s been passed down from generation to generation. Rumi, who most people know as Miruko, took you here when you first arrived in the city, all the way back during the beginning of your undergrad. Your mothers were sisters and the two of you basically grew up to be sisters, which was why when you got into Yuuei University, it was an easy decision to move in with her. While you pursue a career in neuroscience, she had a tenacity for exercise, making her up as a celebrity personal trainer, helping the top within the entertainment industry. She was constantly traveling, so even though you moved in with her you would barely see your cousin which was what made this lunch even more special to you. 

Opening the door, you waved over to the bartender on duty, an older man who’s been here since before you arrived in the city. You glanced around the room seeing the familiar long platinum-white hair pulled up into a high ponytail. Rumi was looking down at her phone before she noticed you approaching. She smiled, standing up and walking to meet you halfway, She wrapped her arms around you, with you doing the same, enveloping you in a tight hug. She smelled of blackberries and soft vanilla. The two of you let go of each other, before settling into your respective seats. You took your jacket off, placing it on the empty chair beside it along with your bag. Immediately a server walked over to you, placing straws down and asking about drinks. Rumi ordered a Shirly Temple and you ordered a simple Sprite. 

“So, how long are you back in town till the next celebrity?” You asked her after seeing what you want, placing the laminated folder down. 

Miruko sighed, leaning back into her chair, “I’m taking a month off, I’ve been running ragged going up and down the country these past five months.”

You raised an eyebrow, “wow, last time you took a break, you only took a week off. Is there something else going on?”

She shook her head, pressing a hand towards her temple, “nah, just looking out for myself before i have a mental breakdown.”

You nodded your head, but before you could say anything, the server came back with your drinks. You thanked them before they asked if you were ordered. You ordered one of their spicy chicken sandwiches, your usual when you came here with loaded fries. Miruko ordered a big ass burger, also with loaded fries as well. The server smiled, before walking away to put your orders in. Once they were gone, you looked back towards your cousin, concern etched around in your eyes. 

“Is everything okay, Miruko?”

She nodded her head, “I’ll be cool, just overdue for a well needed break, You know how I can overwork myself.”

She suddenly slammed her hands on the table, the bereaved look on her face disappearing, “enough about me! How about you? Anything new? Anyone new?” She wiggled her eyebrows on the last part, making you roll your eyes. 

“Nothing new going on in my life,” you fibbed, glancing around, “just been going to class, being a teaching assistant, nothing new.”

Miruko didn’t accept that, leaning in closer to you, eyebrows curling up. 

“Come on, you can tell me,” she nudged you, full on smirking at this point. 

You rolled your eyes, but your smile still showed up,  “there’s no one new, but if there is, you’ll be the first to know.”

She didn't believe you, judging by the way she looked at you but she dropped it, instead changing the conversation to your work during school. Your food soon arrived, the plates still steaming hot from the stove and oven. The two of you indulged into the food, conversation easily flowing between the two of you. You spent up to two hours there with your cousin, reminiscing on the old times when you two were growing up together. 

The time went past the two of you, and you both had separate appointments to get to. Your cousin didn't want you to take the bus, so she dropped you off on campus. You had a study group to get to, with other people in your class in the library. You said bye to your cousin before heading off, seeing her luxury car speed away. You headed inside the library, walking past the receptionist at the counter towards the elevator. The study/project group was with some other people in your class, who were in the same master program as you as well.It was only five of you, including yourself. 

Walking down the hall, you turned a couple of corners to get to the study room, the same one you had been using all year as well. You opened the door, smiling at the rest of the groups who seemed to have gotten started without you. You placed your things down before wrapping your arms around the person beside you, who immediately hugged you back. 

“Oof, I’m glad you could actually make it, that teaching assistant job of yours as you are so busy!” One of your peers and someone who you could call a friend, Akira. 

You shook your head, “sorry guys, things have been really hectic, but I’m finding a balance!”

Another one of the group, Takamori, who most just call Mori, shook his head, “don’t sweat it. Despite not showing up for a couple of weeks, you still get more work done than good ole Zenko over here!”

Mori slapped Zenko on his neck, who hissed and yelled a “hey!”, rubbing at the sore spot. You shared glances with Akira, before rolling your eyes at the same time. 

You sat down in your seat, glancing over at the last person in the group, Hikari, who kept mostly to themselves. They looked up from their computer, seeing you and giving you a wave. You waved back, with a smile before looking up at the tv which was hooked to Hikari’s computer, containing your currency 35 slide PowerPoint. You took your jacket off, putting it on your chair before grabbing your laptop and iPad out of your bag. The air soon settled amongst you all, getting into a working mode to hopefully finish the rest of the representation. It wasn't due for another three weeks but you all would rather not have to worry about your hectic schedules. 

Time passed once again as conversation flowed, a rhythm you all found while working together. You only had the room for two and a half hours, which gave you thirty minutes before the faulty meeting you were required to go to. 

You said goodbye to everyone, giving hugs and kisses to Akira and making plans to hang out next weekend should your world allow it. You split ways, with you headed right back to the swanky new science building. You entered the building, going up the long stairs and turning away from the main lobbies to the hallway where the huge conference rooms were. The meeting consists of all the sciences faculty, including teaching assistants. Aizawa was the only teacher teaching Anatomy so he was expected to be here. You were his lone teaching assistant, you couldn't help but smile at that, this meeting was also required for you to be here. 

Arriving at the conference room, you waved to some of the other professors, taking your seat in the furthest corner in the back of the room. Towards the front, you could see that familiar mess of dark hair, sitting alongside a blond man with long hair. The two of them were speaking, whatever it was you couldn't hear. You immediately pulled out your phone, and scrolled through your phone, looking through Twitter as the rest of the science professors filed into the conference room. Once all the professors filed into the room, the head of the science department, a very sweet lady by the name of Kayama, began to speak, flicking through the PowerPoint, focusing on the details of this semester and next semester. 

Jumping, you felt a pinch at your backside, turning around only to be staring into golden-brown eyes. Hawks winked at you and you gave him a small smile and wave before turning around and continuing to pay attention to the meeting. Professor Kayama continued on with her presentation, with other professors chiming in as well. You kept quiet, taking notes on things you needed to do for the rest of the semester and what was to come next semester. 

“We’ll also be introducing a new grading system next term, and we want to prepare you all for it!”

You took bullet points on everything you saw, listening to all the different questions other members were having. The meeting took well into the night, considering that today was Friday and they would like to intrude on people’s quality time with their families or loved ones. 

Soon the meeting ended, and you walked out of the building, heading down the street to the nearest bus stop. As you walked down the street, a cold breath blowing right in front of you, a car slowly came to a stop right beside you. The horn caught your attention, turning toward the car only to find Shouta parked right beside you. Blinking, you took a few steps towards him, leaning into the rolled-down window. 

“Can I help you sir?” you asked him, sticking your head into the window. 

The car was dark, dark leather, the dashboard and everything dark matching the seats. It was decently clean, save for a few things in the back seat but that was probably things from the job. You looked back at him, cocking your head to the side a bit. Aizawa glanced over one time, before jerking his head to the side, motioning for you to get in the car. You stepped back a bit, opened the side door, and slid inside the car. You threw your bag into the back seat, buckling up before Shouta zoomed off into the night, probably towards his house. Relaxing into the chair, rolling your neck, releasing all the tension. 

“How was lunch with your cousin?” He asked you, taking a left. 

“It was really good, I hadn’t seen her in so long despite me living in her house,” you said, a soft smile appearing on your face. 

He huffed, “hope she doesn’t mind me taking you away for the night then.”

You laughed at that, “stealing me away for the night? Should I be scared?”

You looked towards him as he huffed out a laugh, “yes, you most definitely should be scared.”

You rolled your eyes, a playful smile on your face as you reached in the back for your phone, pulling it out of your tote bag. Unlocking it, you pull up your messages with Mirko. 

Spending the night at a friend’s place, be back tomorrow.

M: I knew it. Just a “friend” huh?!

You rolled your eyes once again, placing your phone in your lap and looking straight ahead. The two of you soon arrived at his home, a small three-bedroom home out in the suburbs of the city, away from all the bright lights. He pulled up into the driveway, using the garage remote attached to the sun visor of the car. Shouta pulled up into the garage, immediately closing it after he did. Then you got out, with you grabbing your bag from the back seat. You entered his home through the garage door, following right behind him. The garage door entered an area right beside the kitchen and the stairs to the second floor of the house. You placed your bag on the counter right side of the door, to the left, slipping off your shoes as you did. Shouta put his things on the island of his kitchen. 

This wasn’t the first time you’d been in his house, so you knew most of where everything was. You followed the tall man into the kitchen, seeing him pull out different ingredients from the kitchen. You came up right beside him, seeing all the different ingredients being pulled out. 

“Help me out here,” is all he said before you went into gear. 

The two of you entered into a flow, with you working with the cold ingredients while he focused on actually cooking. It was quiet between the two of you but a very warm silence, as the two of you worked. The idea was a red pasta with pan-fried chicken. Cooking together was probably the second-most intimate act between the two of you, other than sleeping together. You smiled to yourself, seeing his hand place a wet towel down as you grabbed an onion to chop up. 

As he finished cooking, you prepared the dining table which was also in the kitchen. You grabbed the re-corked bottle of white wine and placed it on the table, along with two of his wine glasses. Using the tool, you pulled the cork out. As you sat, pouring the wine into the glasses, Shouta began walking over, holding two plates in his hand. He placed one in front of you while taking the other one in the space right beside you. Thanking him, the two of you soon began eating.

Soon after dinner, you grabbed the plates, taking them over to the sink. Shouta went to the bathroom as you began to clean up, washing up the glasses as well. Focusing on the items in the sink, you didn’t notice the footsteps coming up behind you until you could feel hands suddenly wrap around your waist. Gasping, you were suddenly turned around, facing Shouta who pressed you against the sink. His hands sunk down, grabbing you underneath your thighs and pushing you up, so he could wrap your legs around his own waist. Giggling, you reached behind you, turning off the water tap before placing your arms up around his neck and shoulders. Nails weaving into his hair, pushing his head down towards your own. 

He pressed you against the sink counter, lips roughly pressed your own. Your grip on his hair was harsh. You whispered a ‘fuck’ as he let go of your lips. His hands went from your waist, grabbing the bunched-up fabric of your dress, slowly peeling it up. Shouta tasted of wine and tomato sauce, you probably tasted the same. Lifting your arms up, you allowed him to take the rest of your dress off, leaving you in only your thong. He threw the fabric in some obscure corner, hands coming right up to your breasts. Your hands left his hair, going down to his black shirt. As you began to lift his own shirt up, he started to leave kisses all along your neck. He moved his hands, allowing you to get his shirt off before slowly throwing it somewhere. He attached himself back to you, his mouth moving to your titties. 

Gasping, your nails dug into his back as he sucked away at your nipple, his other hand squeezing and holding the other one. You choked on your own spit, intensity overwhelming at a rapid pace. His touch and actions were familiar yet had you going senseless every time. God, you’ve never met a man like Shouta Aizawa, you doubt you ever find someone that makes you feel intense passion. From the moment you met, till now, your life has been a set trajectory with his every touch leading the way. 

“Shouta,” gasping, hands basically ripping down his back. 

You could feel him smirk against you, taking in every detail of you. He soon let go of your breasts, leaving a wet kiss along your stomach to your abdomen, and soon reached in between your thighs. His hands slid down your things, slowly sliding the pink velvet thin cloth off your body. As it pooled on the floor, he kneeled right over, face right there in between your thighs. His hot shaky breath caused sent trembles up your body through your spine. Moving his hands to your inner thighs, he separated them placing his tongue right on your clit. 

You screamed, hearing yourself echo through the otherwise silent kitchen. Your hand flew to your mouth, covering up the onslaught of moans that were coming about. Almost immediately his hand left your thigh, flying up to your covered hand moving it from your mouth before diving in deeper. 

Backing arching, you shook against the counter from his actions. His lips wrapped around your clit, sucking away endlessly. Bracing yourself, you could feel the cold of the metal sink as he pushed back against you. The way he commanded your body, in just a few months you two knew each other. The way he paid attention to every gasp and shiver, the way you moved within his hold. 

“So good, oh my god,” the last word extended as you could feel him sink two fingers into your wet, glistening heat. 

He kept going on and on, your rash movements and thrashes unmoving to him. The two of you locked eyes for a moment, and you can feel him smirk against you. Shouta took pride in the way he manipulated your body, and that moment was one of many that confirmed that. As Shouta continued, you could feel your lower abdomen begin to shake, your legs shaking with it. That titillating, familiar beginning to rise and rise quickly. Shouta kept his pace steady, inserting an extra finger inside of you as well. 

Holding yourself was too strenuous, your head and shoulders falling into one side of the sink. You screamed at him that you were almost there, that you were gonna come soon. Your hands could no longer reach over to him, the limbs falling right by your side. 

With a final moan, back arching once again, you reached your peak, everything crashing all at once. 

Gasping heavily, you lifted your head up as Shouta stepped away from you for a moment. He gave you a single moment to reprieve, before picking up your body with ease. Immediately you latched yourself around him. In between the time he pressed me against the counter to now, he had lost his sweatpants. Legs wrapping around his waist, you pressed your lips against his own, indulging in your taste. As you kissed him, his one hand held you up as the other lost the boxers he was wearing. He pushed you up, angling your body well. Gasping as you felt that familiar pressure, throwing your head back as he pressed himself into you. Letting go of the kiss, you pressed your cheek against his shoulder as he lowered down further and further. 

“So, so soo big, fuck,” panting, tongue out and drolling as he stretched you out, filling you to the brim.

His deep raspy chuckles rattled your body, his mouth right near your ears, “just a little more, angel.”

You could let out shaky moans, nodding your head whilst laying it down on his shoulder. With one last thrust, he was all the way in. With little to no remorse, start lifting your body up and down with an intoxicating speed. You braced yourself within his hold, curling within his touch as he continued to hold you up and move within you. Your eyes were drooping, overwhelmed by his movements, your ears, and your mind buzzing with white noise. 

“Keep your eyes open, baby, look at me.”

Gasping, pulling yourself out of the trance, you moved your head to be able to look at him. 

“Yeah, yeah that’s it, keep your eyes right on me.”

Your body was sticky with sweat, the atmosphere was heated all around you, and you could barely breathe as he rocked you. You tried your best, your hardest to keep your eyes right on him. The grunts resonated in your ears as he picked up his pace, continuing to reach deep within you. He was dangerously close to your cervix, pressing just closer enough for it to hurt just right. 

“Shouta,” you convulsed in his hold, body twitching with euphoria. 

He says nothing as he continued to fuck you, finding his fast pace and sticking to it. Gasping as he leaned in close to you, placing wet kisses all over your neck and shoulder. The sudden closeness caused him to penetrate deeper inside you. 

“‘s too deep, fuck so deep Shouta,” you cursed, head thrown back. 

Your body began to quiver and shake, choked sobs making their way up from your throat. You were close, so painfully close. His movements and thrusts forced your back to arch, curling more and more into the impending climax. 

“Gonna come, fuckfuckfuckfuck gonna come.”

He smirked, continuing his brutal thrusts, with no intention to let you up.

“Go on, cum for me baby.”

 With those words, a final single cry erupted out of your lips, you writhed in his hold, pussy dripping all over him, dripping right onto the floor. Heaving, letting out a heavy gasp, your body went slack, all muscles within your body unresponsive. SHouta'’s grunts became louder and rougher, his thrust becoming erratic. However, you could barely even process anything that happened after you came, his hands being the only thing that's holding your body up. 

With a final thrust, Shouta came deep within you, not even bothering to pull out like other times before. It was silent except for his heavy breathing and your slight pants. You were floating, your mind, it was out of this world, like many times before. You could feel your body moving, him slowly pulling you off of him, the sullen feeling with the sudden emptiness. You could feel all that was happening all around you. Shouta carried you within his arms, moving you around to carry you around like a bride. He left your pile of clothes in the kitchen as he walked up and out the kitchen, up the stairs to his bedroom. Doors opened and creaked as he stepped in, sudden light flooding your closed eyes. 

He took a few steps, before kneeling down slightly and reaching for something, resting you against his thigh. A rush of water, his bathtub, you could slowly deduce within your state. He waited for a moment, for the water to be a bit sallow and warm enough before slowly placing you inside. As the water fills, the heat brings your mind back to earth a bit, boring your eyes to look up at your lover. You gave him a weak smile, pulling your hand out of the water to feel for his face. His scruffy beard and the familiar scratchiness brought a weak smile to your face as you pulled him down, placing a soft kiss on his lips. 

As you let him go, he gave you his own soft smile, before getting up, and going over to the small basket of body care he leaves near the bathtub. He grabbed it, walked back over to you, and placed it right near the tub before getting in himself, lifting you up before sitting down and placing you right on his lap. Together, the two of you cleaned each other up, rinsing off the sin of the previous activities.

As soon as you were clean, you were more grounded, following after him to the two towels he laid out for you. The two of you dried off, you get dressed in one of his thin t-shirts, and him getting into another pair of sweatpants before guiding you out of the bathroom. You climbed into his bed, with him following in right after you. The two of you got under the covers, snuggling right near each, his arm right on top of your whole body. Taking a deep breath, you smiled, easily falling into a deep and peaceful sleep. 

You woke up with a gasp, the sudden feeling of pressure within your bladder, and no, not the good kind either. Grimacing, you pushed away Shouta’s arm, holding your stomach as you pushed yourself off the bed. He was an extremely heavy sleeper, not waking up as you walked around the bed, and towards the bathroom. Glancing to your left, you noticed a familiar bag sitting against the wall near his nightstand. Smiling to yourself, he must have gotten up and gotten it as you were asleep. Then you were reminded of the impending danger that was coming. Quickly, you grabbed your phone out of the tote bag before heading right inside the bathroom. 

Scrolling through Twitter as you did your business, cleaning up and washing your hands. You were about to head back outside when you noticed two email notifications come in at the same time to your phone, one addressed to your personal and your school. You ignored the personal one, you could see that one tomorrow, but you checked the school one, making sure it was that one professor that constantly got back to you at odd hours of the night. 

Your heart stopped. Blood went as cold as a snake. 

Your ears began to fill with white noise, and your heart raced faster and faster as you scrolled through what you were seeing. Tears were welling right in your eyes, 

On your phone screen, were pictures of you and Shouta, not only from today but from days, even a date night he surprised you with a month ago in a whole new city during a school break. 

At the end of the email, was the only words within this world-shattering email, 

I know your secret Angel…  ;-) <3

taglist: @deegausserr @ryutotsukai0824 @lik0 @yaygurist @megnotfound

previous part. masterlist. next part.

[aaakikoo]

could u do a uni professor aizawa and a student reader where she goes to a cafe that’s not well known sometimes and orders something and sits in the corner and just breaks down once in a while late at night (the cafe is 24/7). And on one of those nights her professor (aizawa) comes in and takes to her and tells her to let it all out on him and pretend she doesn’t know him.

GRADES

an -> this is shit but whatever lol, first time writing for Aizawa so, enjoy. (Long and outstretched and annoying)

another an -> a song I was listening to while writing, live love laugh, Lana del Rey🫶🏼.

paring -> s.aizawa x f!collage student reader

warnings -> cursing, crying, mentions of death, blood, (sleeping around?), tell me if I missed any!

———

“Alright, that’s for todays lecture, make sure to study see you after the weekend.” Your chemistry professor said as he closed his laptop and walked out the room.

The hall was filled with bunch of students, just like you who had each their dreams. You want to become a perfumer. You loved beautiful floral scents the most, you had your own collection of perfumes in your dorm, you just loved the idea of creating and smelling perfumes.

But things weren’t so easily for you lately.

“Hi y/n do you wanna join us? We are going to the corner store to get snacks then we are heading to the cinema!” One of your closet friends tapped you on your shoulder waiting for your replay as the rest of the group are looking at you.

“It’s fine Denki, maybe another time.” You smiled at him and waved the group off.

You headed back to your dorm to finish your assignments, they’ve been building up on you. You entered and shut the door, you took a quick shower and got ready to binge do 3 assignments so they can get off your shoulders.

Few hours later you finished, you decided to head the cafe shop you loved so much. It was peaceful place you where you could just let your mind run free.

It was a short walk too, as you entered the owner nodded while smiling at you, knowing you’re her most loyal customer. You smiled back and sat in the usual place.

It was nice to sit in a small cafe that doesn’t have many people. The owner came to you and placed an americano infront of you, “here you go, dear. Enjoy your drink.” She smiled and walked away.

“Thank you.” You said taking the drink and taking a small sip. You sighed as you realized that you had no more assignments on your shoulders anymore.

However, there has been something else on your mind.

Your family.

Ever since the attack that happened a year ago, things weren’t the same.

Before attending collage you were just in an ordinary high school. Heading back home after the last day of school, excited to tell your family that you had graduated.

On your way there was a lot of running in all directions, children crying, and loud noises. You didn’t know what was wrong until a man came to you and said, “run! There is a villain.” Your heart sank knowing that you were standing in your streets.

You ran home as fast as possible to see that your house was standing, you entered and nobody was there. You heard crying from the bathroom, you entered and saw your little brother shivering under the sink.

“What happened?” You asked and he was too traumatized to give you an answer. “Let’s go!” You carried him and ran out the house. As you were running down the streets with him, you saw a figure covered with blood on the road.

You quickly covered your brother’s eyes as you came closer the body, only to realize it was your own mother. You heart sank and your eyes widened at the sight.

No way right…

There is no fucking way…

She was covered in blood, head to toe. Grocery bags filled with previously fresh fruit now being covered in dark red liquid.

You couldn’t control your body as you had collapsed.

Few hours later you were in bed with your little brother right next to you in your room. You quickly covered his small frame and ran downstairs to see hero’s, policemen, and the ambulance outside your house.

You walked outside to see two paramedics carrying a figure on a stretcher, they had covered it with white sheets. It doesn’t require math to figure out who it was.

You couldn’t believe your eyes back then.

The ambulance drove away along with the hero’s.

The police shoved the villain inside their car and drove away as well.

You ran and hugged your father only for him to give you a cold stare. “Get back inside your room.” You didn’t mind him, you thought he would act this away. Traumatized by what happened probably, or that was what you thought until a few weeks after you caught him making out with another woman in your living room on the couch, the same place where your mother sat.

You haven’t spoke to him since, you’ve been living in the dorms and your brother had been with your grandparents since.

“Dear are you okay?” The sound of the old lady caught you off guard. “Yes I am okay.” You replied to her as she looked into your eyes.

“You spaced out so I thought something was wrong.” You shook your head at her statement. “Nothing is wrong, I’m just a little bit tired.” You assured her as you stood up from your seat.

You walked to the cashier and handed her money, “thank you, see you next time.” You waved and left the store heading back to your dorm.

You woke up the next day very late, but who cares it was a Saturday. You did some reading and you relaxed. You went to the mall to get a few things and on your Rey back, you saw your professor shopping.

He noticed you and gave you a gentle nod and you nodded back.

When you came back, you made yourself a simple dinner as you read for a bit more and headed to bed.

Sunday, the day after. You usually make it your study day. You got up, ate breakfast, took a quick shower, and turned on your laptop.

You did the usual, reading, taking notes, and finishing off a short assignment. You need to get the best grades for the final exams.

The day went by quickly and you headed to bed again. You woke the next day fresh, you made your way to the hall and it was emptied than the usual.

“Good morning.” Your professor said, and you replied back. “Morning Mr. Aizawa. Where is everyone?” You asked as he rubbed the middle of his eyesbrows. “Those brats are probably late.” You nodded and took a seat.

You couldn’t really focus during todays lecture that your professor had to call your name a few times. By the end of the day you were pretty tired. You decided to head to the only place where you could clear your mind.

As you made your way there the owner greeted you like usual and placed a cup of latte this time in front of you. “Thank you.” You told her and she smiled at you.

You opened your laptop and rewind todays lecture since you didn’t really pay attention.

After a little bit of reading and taking notes you felt confident that you are sure of the topic.

You closed your books and laptop as you started drinking from your coffee cup.

The door bell ringed alarming the lady that a new costumer entered her cafe, you looked up and to your surprise you saw your chemistry teacher entering.

The older man noticed you and made his way to you. “What are you doing here?” He asked you.

“I come here very often, it’s my favorite place.”

“Ah, I see. I see you did take some notes, that’s really good y/n.” He smiled and took a seat infront of you.

“I see that your grades have improved a lot since the mid terms. You’re working very hard on yourself but make sure to not overwork yourself.” He told you as the owner came and took his order.

You finished your drink just when the she served him his. “Get me another drink for her.” He told and she nodded.

“Ah thank you.” You said, “I really want to get the best grades and I want to graduate knowing I’ve achieved my dreams.”

“Big dreams huh? What’s on your mind lately.” He asked but before you could answer the owner came and gave your and your professor your orders as she muttered an “enjoy” and left.

“I Uhh, as I’ve said I want to graduate with the best grades and work my dream job.” You took a sip. “And I want to give my little brother the life he deserves.”

“Your little brother? May I ask, what is your purpose.” Your professor asked and your dad eyes trailed down the table.

“It’s because uh, our mother isn’t here anymore, because of a villain, she passed last year. And our father well, he, isn’t in the right state of mind at the moment, all he does is drinking and clubbing, and meeting young women.” You said as your eyes began to water.

“It’s been really hard to both focus on myself in school, work 2 part time jobs, and visit my brother who lives far away at our grandparents house every know and then. So I am overwhelmed by my entire situation.”

You left Aizawa speechless. The man didn’t know what to say.

“Y/n I must say your very strong, I can’t help but admire you.”

You started packing your stuff, “I’m sorry, I think I should leave. See you tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to me. You clearly have a lot on your mind, tell me and let me see if I can help you. Forget that I’m your professor right now, y/n.”

Just like that you started complaining about everything and everyone to your teacher, it felt weird that you shared private issues with your professor but you didn’t really care right now.

“How about I help you by moving your late Friday lecture to Tuesday afternoon. That way you can work your partime job without have to come to school after?” Your teacher suggested and you smiled.

“That would be nice.”

“I’ll move your Thursday early lecture to Monday, that way you only come to school for 3 days and you have both Thursday and Friday off, in addition to Saturday and Sunday. 3 days school, 4 days work and you can take from Thursday till Sunday off every once in a while to visit your brother, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds amazing, thank you so much.” You thanked the man again as he smiled.

You both looked out the window and it was beginning to rain. “I’ll drive you to the dorms, cmon.” He said.

As you got in the car you couldn’t help but admire it. It was so like him, both from the outside and the inside.

“Don’t tell anyone about this, I might get fired for driving you.” He said as he began driving.

“I won’t.”

A few minutes later you were in front of the student dorms, “have a goodnight y/n. See you tomorrow.”

.

[secretqueennacho]

Teacher's Pet

charecters : aizawa , you

Summary : a small fantasy of yours changes into reality with your teacher or more specifically aizawa

You sat there, the sound of the A.C drowned out the other noises in class. you bit the end of your pen slightly as you tried to concentrate on the notes Mr. Aizawa was writing on the board.

Your eyes trailed over his face, following every feature; from his stubble to his scar, nose, lips and eyes.

Black eyes stared at you as you snapped out of it and wrote down what he finished writing.

You felt your heart racing as you realized you got caught staring at him; not writing down the notes but staring at him. your cheeks bloomed a pink colour as you continued to write.

(Y/n), since you were obviously distracted, would you care to tell the rest of your peers, the third rule for this semester's lesson course?"

He stared at you, a subtle smirk formed and disappeared the next millisecond.

He raised an eyebrow at you, waiting for your response. Your mind went blank, you realized you never wrote down anything at the beginning of the lesson. Your eyes went wide as you stared at something that was next to him.

"U-uh... i don't.." you trailed off and felt really stupid as to why you didn't write anything down.

He sighed and looked directly at you, "Next time pay attention. Or you'll be staying after class as detention."

He turned back to the board.

You didn't really think not paying attention would cause you to actually be in detention.

Yea, not so long after Mr. Aizawa called you out for not paying attention you managed to get in trouble.

You facepalmed and stared at the class door knob, debating to actually go forth and stay in a classroom where you and this desirable man are alone for a whole 2 hours. Yea, nothing like 'Pure' thoughts.

You gulped and knocked on the door.

"You, wanted to see me, Mr. Aizawa?" You questioned as you walked into the classroom, you felt your breathing hitch as you seen him leaned over the desk working on yesterday's papers.

The top part of his hair tied into a small messy bun with a few strands, eyes lowered with a tired glaze and his forearms showing from his sleeves being rolled up. "yes, it's a few things actually.

I want you to see these, come closer." His tired voice. heightened your senses. You walked over to him and sat as he gestured you to. He went through the work, and you saw no actual problem to it.

After staring at the problem, you noticed how quiet it was from his side. You looked at him and seen his eyes bore into yours.

"You, wanted to see me, Mr. Aizawa?" You questioned as you walked into the classroom, you felt your breathing hitch as you seen him leaned over the desk working on yesterday's papers.

The top part of his hair tied into a small messy bun with a few strands, eyes lowered with a tired glaze and his forearms showing from his sleeves being rolled up. "yes, it's a few things actually.

I want you to see these, come closer." His tired voice. heightened your senses. You walked over to him and sat as he gestured you to.

He went through the work, and you saw no actual problem to it. After staring at the problem, you noticed how quiet it was from his side. You looked at him and seen his eyes bore into yours.

Your cheeks flared, and you cleared your throat to speak but got cut off by a paper being shown to you. It was writing about Mr. Aizawa and how he caused you to catch feelings for him.

"Care to explain?" You stayed still and looked back at him. "It was a joke." You blurted out then cringed after, God how fucking stupid are you?! You thought.

He smirked and moved a bit closer, his breath on your lips as your eyes stayed on his. "It took a while to understand how you acted different towards me from the other students."

He whispered in a sultry voice as he placed a hand on your thigh, you blushed and on instinct you squeezed your thighs together. His lips barely touching yours but just enough to feel the feather touches of his lips.

"You- BUrP BURPbURP'

You shot out of bed with sweat on your face and looked around. You stared at your MHA posters and facepalmed. "No more fanfics before bed......." You muttered and slammed your face back into the pillow.

[stillalittlelostngl]

Aizawa/Pregnant! Reader - More Domestic Life

Takes places after Aizawa and Toshinori go around to all the families and get the kids in the dorms. They kinda...skipped over how heavy that moment must've been in the show from what I remember. So hopefully this does it justice. I also had a request for Aizawa and a pregnant s/o so 2 birds one stone. Reader is gender neutral - apologies if any gendered language is used. Of course TW for pregnancy and mentions of babies kicking in the womb.

His favorite part of his day had always been when he was able to return home. 

Crossing the threshold and having the world shut out for even a few hours had always been something Shouta treasured. Being in his own space and able to do things at his own pace was a luxury he was rarely afforded due to his line of work, both in the classroom and out. 

The relief and comfort of home had grown in recent years as well. While Shouta never cared for having his sanctuary  invaded by others, you had always proved to be an exception. It had taken some adjustment, as living with another person always does, but Shouta couldn’t imagine these small moments of peace without you now. 

On a regular day the tension in his shoulders would ease away the moment he opened the door to the small apartment that you both shared, the troubles and stress of work melting away to be addressed for another time. 

No such luck today. His brain was still buzzing with all of what needed to be arranged to ensure his students safety in the dorms as he entered.

“I’m home,” he called, kicking his shoes off and setting them neatly by the entrance. He noticed the faint scent of the house cleaner that you loved so much and nearly rolled his eyes. 

He had told you to wait until he returned to get to work on packing and deep cleaning. 

“Welcome back,” your voice called from the living room. Shouta wasted no time in making his way over to you.  

Half packed boxes and piles of both of your belongings were strewn about the apartment in an organized chaos that he’d learned years ago to not bother attempting to understand. Normal logic and reasoning never seemed to apply to you anyways. 

He found you perched on the couch, a book in your lap and a smile on your lips waiting for him. He couldn’t help the roll of his eyes as you made a show of scooting over and patting the space next to you, as if he needed the extra convincing. 

“Don’t remember giving that to you,” he said, brow raised in question as he gave a pointed look  to the oversized clothes you had on that looked suspiciously familiar. 

“What’s yours is mine, right?” you questioned, looking up at him through your lashes with a slight pout on your lips in some faux display of innocence he’d become all too familiar with. 

“Did I say that?” you huff as he pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around your middle with hands flat against your stomach in hopes of feeling the fluttering movements of the baby. It had been a few weeks since you both had first felt the little kicks and he hadn’t been able to keep his hands to himself since. He hadn’t been very good at it before, as evidenced by your current state, but the comfort of having undeniable proof that his child and partner were both alive and well was something he found himself needing more often these past few months. 

“Everything go well?” As much as he’d deny it, you could read him like a book. He tried to shield you from his job as much as he could but lately it had become unavoidable for you to be entangled in his professional life. There’s no way around it when you’d be moving into the dorms with him and his class. 

“As well as they could,” he answered, fingers tapping against your stomach. If you bothered to pay attention to the rhythm you’d recognize it as morse code. “All of the parents agreed it was the best decision. It went much more smoothly than I expected truthfully.” He didn’t voice that he couldn’t understand how his students’ parents could trust him to protect their children after he failed them so miserably. He didn’t have to. 

“Hey” your said as you grabbed his hands in your smaller ones, “stop thinkin so hard when you’re off the clock.” He’d never been able to hide much from you and even less so now after you’ve spent so many years picking up on all of his microexpressions. While somewhere deep down in the most selfish depths of Shouta he may admit to being thankful that you were there to share his worries, he mostly feels guilt as your eyebrows knit and your smile dim. It’s not fair that he brings this stress home to you and the baby. 

It had been a conversation the two of you have had over the course of your relationship that has ramped up in recent months. Shouta always struggled with the knowledge that he could never keep you entirely protected from hero work. It was a messy business that he could never just dump at the door and forget about. It would stick to him, stick to his clothes, the corner down the street - it bled into all aspects of his life and by extension yours. 

The guilt would eat him alive if you let it. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled before pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“None of that now, there’s nothin to be sorry for,” you were soaking in his touch as you leaned further into him, “look, everything will be alright, you’ll see. I got parent’s intuition, I know these things.” 

“Do you now?” The smile is small, the curve of his lips would’ve been mistaken as a twitch of a facial muscle by anyone else, but it was more than enough to lift your spirits. 

You gave a soft hum in affirmation, “it’s a packaged deal with the morning sickness,” your hands move back over his own, the baby tapping its own reply to Shouta’s message. 

“You’ll see, all your kids are gunna be fine, they got you lookin out for them after all”

_____

Some HCs for this cuz I couldn't get it to flow right in the actual story

Aizawa's pretty clinical and analytical in his thinking so while he feels guilty about the stress he put you through before you got pregnant it's next level now. Stress on the pregnant parent can cause so many issues for the kid so while he's excited to be a parent it's really eating him up that something could happen to the baby and you because of his work

he's pretty upset that y'all have to leave your home and move into the dorms too - it's the logical thing to do and the safest option for sure but the home you two had made just felt so perfect to him. You both had met on the cafe down the street, the owner of the family run restaurant on the block always engaged with some small talk with you. When Shouta had to start doing pregnancy craving runs to the place the family always checked in to see how you were - he appreciated that others in the community were looking out for you. That's hard to find these days. Y'all had made a home for yourselves and he was a little annoyed the kid's first months wouldn't be in that home.

the book mentioned was a baby name book. things had been so hectic the last few months that y'all haven't really had a second to even think about names so that night you both toss some back and forth while cleaning and packing

the purples fabuloso is what he smelled when he walked in. IDK if they got that in japan but that's the only smell i've ever associated with a deep clean before so that's what it is

[dabisbratz]

do it again ; aizawa shouta x himbo!male reader

w.c: 0.8k

cw: mentions of creampie(s), large chest (pecs), teasing, anal, headlocks, fingerhooking, drool/spit, dumbification, veryyy minor dirty talk

a/n: i tried really hard to add a read more tab but whenever i do it deletes half the drabble ): i’m so sorry!

himbo!reader who takes pride in his appearance and makes sure to look good every day. Polar opposite to your boyfriend, Aizawa, who slaps on a routinely black on black attire and calls it a night. But he likes that about you, your handsome face always so soft and your lips always so plump and moisturized. Kissing you feels like heaven, and Jesus weeps when your soft lips are wrapped around Shouta’s cock, sloppy and clumsy and so, so messy. He wants to ruin you, until your perfect hair doesn’t look perfect anymore, until your lips are swollen and kissed raw, until you can’t stand on your feet.

himbo!reader who brightens up the room the second Aizawa walks in, a smile weaving across your face as you wave at your boyfriend despite being the only two accompanying the house. You sit under the kotatsu, crisscrossed and eager as Shouta places a kiss to your forehead, holding you in place with a big hand to your throat. You whine and cry when he pulls away, following his movement with your lips until you can feel him again.

himbo!reader who agrees with everything his ‘Sho’ says. He hands you a shirt much too small for you, holding it up in your hands is almost like holding junior clothing, but you put it on anyway because you can’t wait to see how happy it makes your Shouta. Plus, it looks a bit like compression-wear. And it does— it makes him so happy he can’t help but grope the pillowy skin of your pecs, your nipples hard and poking straight through the thin, silky fabric while you keen and your brain shuts off at the contact. You think it looks good, it compliments your body well, and onlooking strangers seem to think so too. Their gaze glued to your chest confuses you a bit, but there’s nothing wrong with admiration!

himbo!reader who doesn’t realize just how much of a pervert his boyfriend is. He watches your pecs bounce when you wiggle in excitement, his gaze lingers on your lips when you lick them to keep them moisturized, he claims to be keeping you on a steady path when he walks with his hand in your back pocket, but he’s really just squeezing the flesh of your ass so he can feel it can jiggle against his palm while you walk.

himbo!reader who’s eager to please. You let Shouta play with you whenever he wants, whether it’s fucking your used, sensitive hole in the middle of the night because your big chest squeezed so tight against his got him hard, or because he woke up that way. You lay on your tummy, ass exposed and propped up with a pillow as he presses his cock inside you, easily sliding right in while you moan at the sensitivity. He holds you open, watching the rim catch on his head and suck it back in, fluttering around him while you squirm with overstimulation. Sometimes he’ll fuck his cum back into you, “Y’gonna take it f’me? Let me use you when I need to release some stress, shit, gonna let me take it out on you? Good boy— good booy, keep my cock warm.”

himbo!reader who’s too dumb to do things for himself, he always needs his boyfriend's help. Your capable, of course, but a little floaty, your brain clouded with thick fog that only Shouta can get to. He helps you with cooking, he helps you setting up gym equipment because every time you try to read the directions you do so upside down, and he helps you cum, when your brain shuts off and all you can do is drool onto your chest and buck your hips up pathetically. As Shouta puts it, “You’re smarter when you think with your dick.”

himbo!reader who doesn’t mind his mean boyfriend, his boyfriend who teases him within minutes— almost makes him cum in his shorts three times while he whispers mean things in his ear about how much of a dumb cockslut he is. You can shake your head, ‘S’not true, Sho!’ but the second his hand is squeezing your body your pout is gone, your eyes glazed over and you can’t help but repeat everything he says back while he coos in approval.

himbo!reader who giggles when Aizawa manhandles him, his hands digging into his hips until he’s bent in different positions. Sometimes your legs are over your head— or just one. Sometimes your hips are raised in the air until your knees nearly hit the ground, Shouta’s tongue fucking into you while your toes curl and you sob. And, sometimes, Shouta fucks you in a headlock, hooking his fingers in your mouth so you can drool all over the place, your tongue rolled out of your mouth while your hips rock to and fro. You’re the perfect fucktoy, Sho’s personal onaho.

[darkchocolateoreozfox]

the pier - shouta aizawa x f!reader series interest check - please rb if interested

ratings: 18+, minors dni

notes: based on a very odd dream, journalist/aspiring author reader, organized crime/gangs/yakuza, murder mystery, fantastical elements (mostly monsters and the like), no smut, shouta is married with children, the lov is shouta's ragtag group of criminal underlings. not possible without inspo from @fontanacollymore (ilysm girl)

warnings: dark content, horror, attempted sexual assault and murder (not by shouta), kidnapping and actual murder (by shouta), mentions of suicide that does not happen on-page, use and trafficking of drugs, lots of talk of violence and crime from various characters, mentions of psych wards character came from, probable but not explicitly stated age difference between shouta and reader, shouta is married to nemuri kayama but it's complicated on both sides

The constant, breathy roar of the waves and the layers of dark clouds overhead made the helicopter hard to see and hear. That and the unaffected stares of your companions made the helicopter seem insignificant, as mundane a part of the sky as the gulls, but it was all you could focus on as your heart quickened in your chest.

“Do you think it’s looking for me?” you asked despite yourself, willing your hope to not reach anyone’s ears. Your fingers itched for the manuscript in your desk drawer.

“It could be,” Shouta said, not taking his eyes off of the dark sky, his dark pupils following the circling helicopter, “but we get these all the time.”

“So don’t get your hopes up, little lady,” Dabi said with a grin, leaning back against the white-painted railing and taking a drag from his cigarette. “It won’t land. They never do. They know that Shig, Jin, and I would be on ‘em in a second.”

You didn’t doubt it, and that’s what made your heart sink. Shouta probably had too many connections, too many deals with the government for anything bigger than a lonely helicopter to fly in, and no pilot would be stupid enough to land alone. The island was too dangerous, too mysterious, too unfamiliar… and much, much too far away from safe land.

Your hands came up to rub over the goosebumps peppering your arms as you remembered something very important, something so odd of you to forget. These men, the ones who’d talked and laughed with you on the beach, and the one who’d smiled so softly at you as you played on the floor with his daughter, were the same ones holding you captive. This island, so strange yet so beautiful, was the cage Shouta held the key to. You took note of how they all stood: Shouta to your left, Jin in front of you, and Dabi behind; all within perfect distance to spring on you if you ran out into the open, calling out to the helicopter’s pilot.

Would being seen even make a difference?

As you watched the helicopter turn around and slowly fly back towards the horizon, you realized that leaving the island and publishing your manuscript was not a matter of when, but a matter of a very, very big if.

~ excerpt from part one: so i'm telling you that you'll be safe with me

[fantasies2paper]

Aizawa was sitting at the dining room table in the living room grading papers. His hair was half up giving me a good look at his profile from where I sat across the room, openly gawking at him. The sleeves of his grey shirt were rolled up, exposing strong forearms and ending in long lithe fingers. 

He'd been so tired from teaching at UA and being a pro hero this was the first time I'd seen him doing regular adult tasks. I was afraid I'd spook him so I sat quietly and sketched his features. His strong jawline and dark eyes were the only thing that filled my sketch book. 

I had to find other things to occupy my time since sex had pretty much left the room after he started teaching. I wasn't upset about it, just a little sexually frustrated but it wasn't anything a few batteries and an Aizawa spank bank didn't fix. So my drawings eventually got very good.

The oven beeped to tell me it was ready and preheated so I set my sketchbook down on the kitchen table and started putting dinner together. Placing my earbuds in my ear I absently danced around the kitchen as I chopped potatoes and marinated steak. The next song started with a slow sensual beat as I placed the potatoes in the oven.

I jumped when I felt a hand on my hip before Aizawa took an earbud out of my ear. "Oh shit, baby, I'm sorry. I didn't bother you did I?"

He'd placed the earbud in his own ear as he still moved my hips with the music, his own movements mirroring my own. His eyes were closed and he was humming along with the tune, so I did the same and continued moving my body. He followed every roll and swivel of my hips, glad I'd chosen yoga pants as I could feel him pressed against me.

"You didn't interrupt me, y/n," he said quietly as the song ended, leaning down to brush his lips against my neck. "I just didn't want to let a beautiful woman dance by herself. What are you making, kitten?"

It had been awhile since I'd heard him call me that and it went straight to my core. His voice always had a way of stroking my deep secret places. It was like melted chocolate or a warm cozy fireplace during a cold snowy night. I rubbed the gooseflesh on my arm.

"You finished grading all your papers?" I replied, my mouth suddenly very dry. "I think I'll do some grilled steak once the potatoes are close to being done. I had a taste for meat today."

"I can help with that craving, kitten." He said in between each kiss he placed on my neck, grinding into me with the rhythm of the next song that was coming through the earbuds. "I've been neglecting my kitten for too long and it's time to rectify that. You've been so patient with me even though we both know I don't deserve your time and attention."

"Mmm you do deserve me so stop being silly," I commented softly. My eyelids fluttered closed when his warm breath ghosted across my skin and I reached my hand up to grab his hair. His fingers tightened on my hips as I grinded against his hard body. "You also haven't been neglecting me, Shouta. Why would you think that?"

His strong forearm snaked around my waist, pulling me closer. Following the beat of the song with his hips flush against mine was really clouding my mind. He'd always had that effect on me but it had been a few months so it somehow seemed more potent. I could feel the heat rolling off his body and warm my skin, my nipples hardening against the thin f/c tank top. I almost didn't notice as he turned off the oven and stove, a tingle shot through me at the implications.

"I found your toy in the bedroom. I think it's really sexy." He growled softly before dragging his tongue up the curve of my neck before blowing on it gently. "When did my kitten use that sinful little toy? While I was gone protecting the city? Or maybe while I was at UA you were home with that toy deep inside of you, moaning my name?"

He smelled so good. A heady dark scent like woods and just pure man. It was distracting me and coupled with the heat from his hard body and his growl in my ear if someone asked where I was I don't think I could've answered.

"Sometimes." I answered honestly, my lips were parted and I was panting softly while I tried to focus on his questions. "Sometimes we would be in bed and I wouldn't want to wake you so I would slowly fuck myself with it."

I felt his arm around my waist flex at my admittance and his other hand reached up to grab my breasts through my shirt, tugging at my nipples. My pants were getting deeper and I could feel him hot and heavy against the curve of my ass. I could cum right here, just like this if he didn't stop playing with me.

"Mm I'm sorry I didn't realize how badly you needed me, kitten." He spun me around to face him, one hand pressing against my lower back and the other squeezing my ass. "Look at you, already putty in my hands aren't you? Let me kiss it better, kitten."

His soft lips pressed against mine and my core clenched, soaking my panties. I wrapped my arms around his neck as I slid my tongue into his mouth, humming softly at his sweet taste. His tongue swirled around mine before sucking on it softly, gripping my ass roughly in his hand. He greedily swallowed my moans while he kissed me, hot desire clenching in my lower belly almost painfully.

Shouta pulled away so I could breath, his lips trailing down my chin to my neck. It took a second for my brain to kick back on and listen to what he said.

"It's not your fault," I gasped out as his teeth grazed my neck. "You're keeping everyone safe and teaching new heroes. Don't worry about me, daddy."

My fingers found their way in his hair as he bit my neck, making me cry out. He was right though. I was completely putty in his hands. If he stepped away from me right now I would've fallen to the floor. I felt my back press against the kitchen wall, not knowing when we moved. 

The sound of ripping fabric went straight to my core as he tore my shirt off of my body. I would've chastised him but I couldn't find a single fuck to give at that moment. I settled with grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it off in one swift move, biting my lip at the sight of his hard body. His muscles had gotten more defined since I'd last seen him, all the extra training with the students and his normal pro hero regimen clearly working in his favor and mine.

"I love when you look at me like that, kitten." He groaned softly, his hands tugging and pinching my nipples. "Show me how much you missed me."

"Gladly."

I kissed my way down his chest, dragging my tongue along every line and curve of the muscles on his chest. Hooking my fingers on the waistband of his sweatpants, I settled myself on my knees and kissed just under his belly button. I slowly revealed more of himself to me as if I was unwrapping a present slowly to savor the moment.

Once I finally had his pants out of my way I placed a kiss on the head of his cock. The long thick shaft was already impossibly hard and licked the tip to collect the thick, creamy precum that gathered at the tip. I noticed the music continuing to play in my ear. The beat was slow but steady giving me the idea to follow the tempo.

I slid my hands up his thighs, lightly dragging my nails against his skin as I slid him into my mouth. He groaned long and low, his fingers moving to my hair. I slowly bobbed my head to the sensual beat, swirling my tongue around the tip on every up stroke. I gripped his ass to help control the pace as I felt his body tense up.

I had no intention of letting up. I planned on savoring every noise, taste, and feeling as I bobbed my head slowly. My core ached for him to fill me up while I clenched around nothing. Both of his hands tightened in my hair as his moans grew louder.

"Don't swallow your milk, kitten." He growled out through clenched teeth, his head falling back as a deep moan left his throat. It was my only warning before his cum coated the inside of my mouth, hot and thick. I moaned softly at the taste, sucking his cock clean before looking up at him. "Show me what a good little kitten you are."

I opened my mouth, moving his cum around on my tongue. Shouta had a way of making me think about only pleasing him, embarrassment be damned. He bit his lip as he watched me play with my food, his eyes growing darker from lust.

"What a pretty fucking kitten you are. I think I should walk you upstairs." He said slowly, rubbing the head of his cock against my lips as his scarf floated around me. The fabric secured one end around my throat and the other was securely in Shouta's hand. "Take your pants off….leave your pretty f/c panties."

I did as I was told, not being able to remove my pants fast enough. After I took off the offending fabric I got on my hands and knees, excited for what was coming next when the sexy male towering above me pulled on the makeshift leash. I meowed softly and began crawling beside him, my hips swaying side to side slowly.

Shouta let me lead the way, my panties soaked and clinging to my sex as I felt his eyes on me. Low growls left him as he leaned down to caress my ass before smacking it, a sharp sting tingling the abused cheek. 

"Such a good kitten deserves a reward." He growled out approvingly as I crossed the threshold to the bedroom we shared. Pulling me to a stop, his palm cupped my sex roughly. "I think I wanna string you up, kitty. With your legs spread so lewdly." He dragged his tongue up my cheek, slowly. "I think I should fuck you with your naughty toy while I bite that pretty clit." He pressed his palm more firmly against me making me mewl, pitifully. "Then I want to pump you so full of my hot milk you have my pups. I want to watch my hot milk slide out of your slutty hole until your crying, kitten."

I was squirming at his words, desperate for his hand to move against me. I tried my best to beg around the delicious cum that filled my mouth.

He chuckled softly at my attempts before he lifted me up. His scarf attached to hooks we had placed in the ceiling, for obvious reasons, draping to create our own person swing. He set me down on the swing before moving over to the dresser where he retrieved my toy and the choke collar he had made for me.

I watched him as he fastened the collar around my neck, the anticipation making my clit twitch. Shouta trailed his fingers down my neck to my breasts, pinching and tugging on my nipples and earning a throaty moan from me.

"Keep my milk in your mouth, kitten, or I'll leave you just like this with no relief." Shouta teased before nipping at my skin with his teeth.

I had no time to respond before feeling the tip of the dildo slide up and down my slit, parting my lips achingly slow. A strained sound left my throat as I watched Shouta, his eyes fixed on my sex as his pink tongue darted out to wet his lips. He locked eyes with me before a slow smile spread across his face as he leaned in. He made sure I was watching him as his tongue flicked against my clit.

Sparks lit underneath my skin at the touch, nearly making me swallow his cum. I couldn't stop myself from tangling my fingers in his hair from such a small touch. I felt him chuckle before he closed his lips around my clit, sliding the toy in deep and slow at the same time.

The mewl that fell from my closed mouth sounded helpless and lewd to my ears, my thighs trembling as he sucked on my clit and fucked me. I wasn't going to last long. His wet lips sucked my clit into his wet hot mouth, his tongue abusing the small bundle of nerves as he slid the toy in and out of my body. 

I nearly choked on Shouta's cum, earning an approving groan as he devoured and teased me. Pulling the toy out of me he chucked it across the room, replacing the silicone cock with his tongue. The wonderful little muscle danced and swirled inside of my hole and it took all of my control not to scream his name.

Shouta panted and moaned as if I was the best meal he'd ever had, slurping up my arousal with fervor. His fingers squeezed my thighs as he tried to bury his face farther into my sex, the stubble on his chin adding a delicious sensation.

"Swallow daddy's cum and squirt in my mouth, kitten." Shouta growled against my slit before burying his tongue as deep inside of my body as it could possibly go.

I swallowed the cum and drool before I screamed his name, my back arching as I squirted into his waiting mouth. Hearing him choke around my arousal nearly brought me to the edge again. Nipping and sucking on my inner thigh before he pulled away, the look in his eyes excited me.

His lips were shiny with my arousal. His eyes were feral and full of lust as he grabbed the chain attached to my collar and pulled me to him, his lips crashing against mine. I moaned as our flavors mingled on my tongue and his hard cock pressed against my slit. The hard length snuggled between my lower lips.

I moaned as he moved his hips back and forth, coating himself in my slickness. I purred softly against his lips, falling back into the swing and lifting my hips. Shouta was impossibly hard and hot against my wanting body, more soft mewls falling from my swollen lips.

"Does the slutty kitten want my fat cock?" He growled, still sliding back and forth with strained control. "You want it so bad your little pussy keeps trying to suck me in. You feel so fucking good."

"Pl-please, daddy." I whimpered softly. "Fuck me silly."

He grinned as if that's all he'd been waiting for and slammed into me, his loud groan mixing with my scream of bliss. He stretched me to the point of breaking, my body twitching at the feeling of being so full. 

"Fuck, kitten." He growled out through gritted teeth. "Such a tight fucking fit. Oh shit!" 

His fingers dug into my hips, the pleasure and pain mixing until I couldn't tell the difference. He began to move, the swing helping the fluidity of his thrusts. I dragged my nails down his chest, angry red lines appearing in their wake as a feral moan tore from me. All of my sexual frustration and desire pouring out of me in that one sound, earning a hard thrust from Shouta.

"That's right, kitten. I want all of it. Give me everything you've got!" He groaned as he thrust hard into my body. He punished my pussy with his hard thrusts and I loved every second of it. A slow smile spreading across my face as I moaned my pleasure, nearly screaming as he used my body.

"Daddy yes!" I screamed as my head lolled back, one of his hands sliding up to grip my neck while the other kept a firm hold of my hips. The leverage from him holding my neck made his thrusts harder and faster, the tingles and shocks getting stronger in my slide belly. Every thrust brushed against my cervix, my legs trying to spread wider so he could get closer. 

Shouta's thrusts began to become erratic, his moans growing wild and loud. His hand left my hip and slid between us so he could pinch my clit roughly sending me flying over the edge with a scream. I squirted as I came all over his hard cock, my body trembling with aftershocks. He came shortly after, moaning my name as he filled my body.

We stayed like that, panting and exhausted. After a moment he lifted my body from the swing and laid me down on the bed, snuggling beside me and covering both of us with a fluffy comforter.

"I'm not done with you, y/n," he said softly before kissing my forehead. "But you can rest for now."

"Yes, sir." I sleepily chuckled as I nuzzled against him and drifted off into a resting sleep

[aizawasecretlover]

This is a comfort fanfic I did hope ya like it.

Im very new to this and if there's any spelling wrong please correct me. I have a lot of stuff in my draft but scared to post them.

No copying my stuff please and saying it yours

Shouta x reader

You were coming from a hard day at work, and the only thing you just wanted to do was just cuddle with your husband. The names that, they give you and what they call you were already hard to deal with along with the stress of everything.

"I fucking can't wait to get some fucking cuddles." y/n was halfway to her house till she bumps into a black and white stray cat. "Hey, there little fella what you been up to?" She smiled at the cat and pick him up and start back walking home.

When she reached the door to her apartment her husband had just come out of the room still with his hero outfit on. "Hey, Shouta how's work? Did the kids give you a hard time?" You then kissed him on the cheek and set your stuff down by the couch.

The kitten then jumps out of your arm and started to walk toward your husband and rubs himself on his legs while purring. 

Shouta looks down at the kitty and gave a small smile before rubbing him. "They learning how to sneak up on their opponents." You gave a smile a nodded. "You brought a kitten?" he looks straight at you and you felt waves going down your spine as you were jumbled with your words 

"W-Well umm I...I wanted to bring him and umm...He was very c-cute" You were playing with your fingers looking around to avoid his eyes. He was smiling at how flustered you were and it was cute to him.

"Can we name him Cloudy? I'll buy some food since I'm going to the store." after that, he kissed you on your forehead and walk out the door.

You were in a daze till you hear a meow below you. You then smiled and pick the little cuteness up and head to the shared bedroom and sat on the bed playing with him.

As you were playing with the kitten you started to cry a little thinking back at work on what they say

~~~Flashbacks to work~~~

You found little yellow sticky notes all over your work spot as you sit down. You pick one up and read it. "What the hell is this shit?" you ask no one. You look at the other sticky notes and can tell right away they all came from the same person by the handwriting.

You read the words Bitch, Hoe, Slut, He only wants you for your body and nothing else. He doesn't want you. There were even more colorful words that you couldn't believe came from one person or others. You folded the papers and put them in your back pocket and got to working while holding some small tears back.

~~~The Present~~~

You were crying while you had the notes spread out on the soft sheet looking at them. You didn't notice that your husband had walked in on you. "Hunny you ok?" his voice sounds very concerned and a little hurt. 

You turn your head away from him looking out at the night sky through the window. "He fine we were just playing." Cloudy just was looking at you then look at Shouta wondering what's going on. "I mean you Hunny."

You couldn't look at him, not like this you then heard a sigh and footsteps. Then there was a pause, you can tell he was reading the little papers that were on the bed. "Y/n..." You could feel the bed sing a little in front of you where the paper was. "Y/n look at me." 

You turn your head to look at him slowly. His eyes had so many emotional things in his eyes pain, hurt, concern, and so much more "Kitty Cat who wrote these? Why you didn't say anything when I'm here for you." 

"Because I didn't want to bother you with my problems." You were on the verge to cry again and he saw that. "I didn't want you to hate me thinking I'm useless and didn't want to me anymore. I'm scared that you will find someone way better than me and leave to be with them. I hate myself for thinking those things because I know you won't do it, but deep down it's that small part of my heart that thinks that and it hurts so much." 

You were leaning your head on his chest while the warm tears were coming out. Not mad at the person who wrote these little letters but mad at yourself for thinking that little doubt. Shoto was sad and happy at the same time. Sad at what you've been thinking and happy that you told him how you feel.

"Hey, Y/n.." He lifts your head by the chin with a soft smile on his face "I would never leave you for anyone. You are so much better than any person that I have ever met. You are so much gorgeous and your smile shines brighter than the sun and moon itself"

You started to smile a little more at what he said. He then turns his head looking out the window up at the moon like he was searching for something. A little sigh came from his lips and he looks back at you with his dark strong eyes. As he sat his warm hands on your cheek you could feel the warmth going throw your whole body.

"I don't want a day to pass that you feel like you don't deserve to me that you not good enough because you are. Your a good person and no one can tell me otherwise." He kisses you on your forehead as he let rest on yours. "We gonna beat this little doubt together this sadness together because I love you with all my heart." 

You giggling a little because of how the Cloudy was pawing at your lap

"Hey, Hunny I think Cloudy is very hungry. He over here pawing at my thighs, you got his food?" 

With a long sigh, he got up pulling you along with him smiling. "Ya, it's upfront let's go. I also brought take out for use to." With that, you three left out of the room to go eat and watch a movie.

"Shouta..." He looked at you while the movie goes on waiting for you to finish. "I love you." You looked at him with a small smile and he kissed you on your lips. "I love you too."

Extra

You got a text from your phone from Present Mic.

Loudy

Did it work? It was a lot of work to sneak into your workplace and put those notes there without my fans noticing me 

Angle

Ya, it work but are you sure I want to get in trouble by doing this? It was your idea and if I die because of this I'm hunting you down.

Loudy

Don't worry if he found out he would know right away that it was me Hehe

You gave a small smile and sat your phone down to go to the bathroom. Shouta on the other hand had seen your phone unlock and was reading the message with an evil little smirk thinking what he could do to get back at Mic. You came back from the bathroom and cuddle back up on Shouta ready to sleep.

This ending is Shit I don't know if I should take it out or leave it?

[bleuhisteria]

Deus Ex Machina|| Aizawa x Reader Chapter 13

Beware the master of manipulation, who cunningly whispers in the ears of those around you, molding their minds to sway your trust, until you find yourself on the precipice of their enticing yet treacherous deal.

__

"Remove the neon sign in the garage door!" She exclaimed.

"Hah?!" Confusion washed over me as my mother announced her condition.

She immediately grabbed me by the shoulders, her touch gentle but her eyes filled with a deranged intensity. "Remove. The sign," she stated menacingly.

I pulled away from her grasp, a mix of shock and disbelief filling my expression. "Are you serious?!" I exclaimed, unable to comprehend why removing a simple neon sign had become such a significant demand.

"Yes, I'm serious!" she shouted, her frustration evident. It became apparent that the neon sign had been bothering her far more than I had realized. "I've been wondering how to get one of you to remove it ever since you put it in place!" she added, her voice laced with irritation.

As I brushed off my shoulder where she had grabbed it, I looked at her with a slight glare. "You know you're not allowed in there," I stated firmly, recalling the incident from last time.

Taking in the chaotic disarray of her office, with its incomprehensible system of organization, I let out a sigh. My mother, renowned as Japan's most exclusive and brilliant detective, was paradoxically the most disorganized person I knew. There was no way I would allow her back into the garage. Moreover, removing the sign would require a family meeting, complete with a persuasive PowerPoint presentation explaining why it should be taken down.

With weariness in my eyes, I responded, "I'm sorry, Mom, but I can't agree to your condition. The sign stays."

"Even if I give you the videos?" she asked in disbelief, her hand resting on her chin as she seemed lost in thought. I could hear her muttering about unexpected outcomes and plans gone astray. It seemed as though she couldn't hear anything I said, as she became engrossed in her own thoughts.

Seeing an opportunity, I slowly inched towards the door, hoping to escape the situation. Just as I was about to make my getaway, her attention snapped back to me, and she presented a different proposal. "(N/N)! I know you've been working on understanding quirk molecules and which materials are most reactive to them. I'll help you in that field using my quirk," she offered, sparking both intrigue and worry within me.

"How did you know about that?" I asked, my hand inching closer to the doorknob.

"Your father talks in his sleep," she said proudly, raising her finger to emphasize the point. Her eyes locked onto mine, her expression serious. "You know how insightful my quirk can be in this area. I just happened to choose a different field of work," she explained, stepping toward me and placing her hands on my shoulders.

"I'll give you some time to think about it," she said, planting a gentle kiss on my forehead. "Now, go to bed, darling. You have school tomorrow," she added, smiling warmly as she released me.

Turning back with a smile, I realized that her antics, although odd, were nothing out of the ordinary for her. "Goodnight, Mom," I said, leaving the office and closing the door behind me. I hurried back to my room, the events of the evening swirling through my mind as I climbed into bed.

__

I entered the gates of UA, notepad in hand, ready to tackle another day of school. Today, I decided to set aside thoughts of the support item I was making for Aizawa and focus on creating some gadgets for myself. My dad had emphasized the areas I needed to improve on, and I wanted to make sure I had the necessary tools at my disposal.

As I walked towards the school building, my mind drifted to the types of support items I needed. I pondered on creating something that could analyze my surroundings to enhance my situational awareness, a device that could boost my mobility and combat abilities, and tools that could assist me in team sports, considering the unpredictable nature of the sports festival.

The thought of the UA sports festival reminded me that I had most likely lost the chance to see those tapes after rejecting my mother's proposal the previous night. I let out a weary sigh, resigned to the fact that the advantage they could have provided was now out of reach.

Suddenly, I heard loud footsteps approaching from behind, and a cheerful voice called out my name. "(Y/N)!" she exclaimed, jumping onto my back and giving me a light tackle hug.

"Haruki!" I greeted, turning around to face her. She wore a smile on her face, but I couldn't help but notice the bags under her eyes. Concerned, I asked, "Did you stay up late?"

She looked surprised for a moment before raising her hand to her face. "Oh, these? Don't worry about it. I've been working on my preparations for the sports festival," she explained, pointing out my own tired appearance. "What about you? You look a bit tired too," she added.

I chuckled. "Ah, I guess we're in the same boat," I replied. Haruki and I continued our conversation as we made our way to class.

Later on at lunch, I wanted to ask Haruki to join me but she was fast asleep at her desk, probably from staying up late, I figured not bothering her and let her catch up on the sleep she was lacking since I had a different thing I had to focus on at the moment.

My mother woke up early and made me lunch... and one for Aizawa too? She said something about it being part of the training dad set up for us, though when I turned to look at him at breakfast he started sweating and refused to look me in the eye, definitely suspicious. So now I was in the hallway, looking for the classrooms of the general course, there were only three classes so Aizawa's class wouldn't be hard to find.

That was another problem in itself, Aizawa and I don't really know much about each other aside from the two of us having the same goal of wanting to be in the hero course, it was definitely something that hindered our progress, I think...

I peek my head into class 1-E's classroom, scanning the room, a few students turned to look at me, but there was no sign of Aizawa.

"Excuse me--" A student called out but I got nervous and was already walking away to the other classroom.

I took a deep breath as I stood outside class 1-D's door, I opened the door and got the same reaction as I did in class 1-E, almost getting cold feet, I scanned the room, spotting a student who was sleeping in their desk, black hair the same length as Aizawa's, I used my quirk to look at them to ensure I didn't make the same mistake as last time.

I let out a breath of relief, smiling as I recognized the information coming into my mind, I was just about to walk in but--

"--Do you need something?" A student asked.

Flinching, I stepped back, "I-I..." I stuttered, though through the lens of my quirk, they didn't have any hostility aimed towards me, but I guess their eyes were naturally sharp, my legs felt like jelly as I tried to think of words to say.

"She's with me." I heard a voice call from behind the student.

"H-huh?" I uttered, surprised as the student and I turned to look.

Aizawa was standing behind them, yawning, wiping the tears caused by his yawn.

"Aizawa-san?" The student asked as Aizawa walked past them, turning his attention to me.

"(Y/N), what are you doing here?" he asked tiredly.

Murmurs spread among his classmates, making me nervous. "I-it's.." Although I wasn't one to lie, the situation weighed heavily on me. I felt the piercing gazes upon me, the atmosphere turning cold. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I wanted nothing more than to flee from the overwhelming pressure.

Aizawa sighed cutting me off of my thoughts, I raised my head to see him looking at his class before turning to me, "Let's go." he said, walking past me and nodding his head for me to follow.

"Y-yes!" I called in surprise as I ran out after him, was he... being considerate of me?

I walked beside him, keeping pace as we wandered through the empty corridors. Gratitude shimmered in my eyes as I stole a glance at him, thankful for his timely help. However, doubt lingered, unsure if his actions were intentional or not. We walked in silence for a few minutes, and it became clear that we were aimlessly roaming without a specific destination in mind.

"A-Aizawa... where are we heading?" I managed to ask, my nerves slowly subsiding.

He shrugged nonchalantly and replied, "I thought you wanted to get out of there, so I left." His words were straightforward and devoid of any pretense.

So he was thinking of me! A smile crept up to my face from the confirmation, my eyes shining as I felt warmth climbing my cheeks.

I averted my gaze slightly and gathered my courage. "D-do you mind heading to the cafeteria with me?" I asked, my heart pounding with anticipation, hoping for a positive response.

Aizawa looked at me for a moment, seemingly contemplating his answer. Then, with a slight nod, he replied, "Sure, let's go."

It made me really happy that he considered my feelings, we walked together to the cafeteria and sat at a table, we sat across each other, I had the lunchboxes at my side as I fiddled with my hands beneath the table, gathering up the courage to hand him the lunchbox.

He placed a hand on his cheek, staring at me but occasionally looking away, probably to not put pressure on me. Suddenly, he stood up.

"I'm going to get s--" he began to say.

"W-wait!" I called out, my voice filled with urgency. I knew he was likely going to get a tray and pick up some food, but since my mom had already prepared a lunch for him, I didn't want him to spend money unnecessarily. Besides, my mom would be furious if she found out I hadn't given him the lunch she had made specifically for him.

Aizawa tilted his head, his curiosity evident, and slowly sat back down. I felt my heart racing as I looked down nervously, trying to find the right words. Shuffling in my seat, I revealed the lunchbox and gently pushed it toward his side.

"U-um..." I stammered, my face undoubtedly turning brighter with each passing second. "M-my mom made this for you..." I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper, as he stared at the lunchbox before him.

A moment of awkward silence settled between us before Aizawa reached for the lunchbox, his voice barely above a whisper as he expressed his gratitude, "Thank you." He opened it, revealing the delicious meal my mom had prepared. However, as he picked up the chopsticks, a piece of paper slipped out, causing both of us to look at it in confusion. Aizawa unfolded the paper and began reading its contents.

My eyes widened, my mom always wrote sweet notes for me whenever she made my lunch, but this was Aizawa we were talking about! What could she have written?!

Feeling a sudden surge of panic, I swiftly snatched the piece of paper from Aizawa's hand, my words stumbling out, "Th-this is...!" Aizawa looked at me, clearly perplexed.

Collecting myself, I cleared my throat and apologized, a tinge of guilt creeping into my voice. Just as I glanced at the note, I realized that the little drawing my mom always included, usually addressed to me, was this time addressed to Aizawa. I began to question whether what I had done was the right thing. This note wasn't meant for me—it was meant for Aizawa.

Sighing with a tinge of guilt, I apologized, extending the piece of paper back to Aizawa. "S-sorry, I panicked," I murmured, my voice filled with regret.

"It's fine," he responded calmly, accepting the note from me. He opened it and began reading its contents.

As I watched him read, curiosity got the better of me. "H-hey, do you mind telling me what my mom wrote?" I inquired, unable to contain my curiosity any longer.

Aizawa looked up at me and closed the note, passing it back to me. "It mentioned something about helping to convince you to accept her proposal," he shared.

My eyes read through the paper, there were scribbled letters with slightly differing colors of black ink in her note that she knew only she and I could see though our quirks, though someone else could see it if they looked hard enough. I realized that she had cleverly utilized Aizawa's tendency to be a bit careless to her advantage.

Dear Aizawa,

I know you're reading these lines, and I understand that this is probably confusing for you. It seems (Y/N) intercepted the note, driven by guilt, and returned it to your possession. But let's not dwell on assumptions. Instead, I present a request, given in a subtle offering.

Consider this lunch as a bribe, a token of goodwill. Within its contents lies a hidden opportunity, one that could mutually benefit both (Y/N) and yourself in your pursuit of entering the hero course.

Take your time to ponder this enigmatic proposition, for it holds promise and significance. Your task is to persuade (Y/N) to embrace the deal I presented to her last night. Trust that the outcome could shape her future in profound ways.

When you've weighed the possibilities and crafted your persuasive arguments, do get back to me. I eagerly anticipate your response.

With sincerity,

(Y/N)'s mom

P.S. Enjoy the meal; it is prepared with love.

I glared at the paper, my eyes fixated on the hidden message that seemed to taunt me. In an attempt to maintain composure, I handed it back to Aizawa and placed my own lunchbox on the table. "Sorry about this," I muttered, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration. "My mom tried to make a deal with me last night."

Aizawa had already begun devouring his meal, his focused gaze unwavering. "It's fine," he replied between bites. "What was the deal about anyway?" He took a crunchy bite of shrimp tempura, the sound echoing in the air.

I let out a nervous laugh, trying to downplay the situation. "It's about your support item," I explained, picking up my chopsticks. "She wanted to help me make it."

With a calm expression, Aizawa asked, his eyes closed, "Why not just let her help? If it really does benefit us both, I don't see the harm." Another bite, another moment of contemplation.

My smile faltered, and I flinched slightly. The thought of my mom's chaotic organizational skills unleashed in the garage was daunting. "I-it might... but..." I trailed off, struggling to find the right words.

"But what?" Aizawa probed, his gaze fixed on me.

What I wanted to say was that while it might have short-term benefits, it wouldn't be sustainable in the long run. However, the weight of the situation made me sigh in defeat. "I guess I can tolerate it..." I muttered, conceding to the circumstances.

Aizawa's gaze shifted to the ceiling briefly before returning to me. "You know, it doesn't always have to be in your mother's favor. It's a deal, (Y/N). You can negotiate your own conditions so that both of you benefit from it," he stated, reaching for an eggroll from the lunchbox.

My eyes widened, I felt a mix of relief and frustration, "Y-you're right!" I admitted, my hand covering my face in a moment of self-disappointment, "S-sorry, I just... I'm not one for confrontation, that was seriously the last thing on my mind."

"What are the details of the deal? I'll help you write the conditions." Aizawa offered, putting the eggroll in his mouth.

Grateful for his support, I nodded and retrieved my notepad that I kept in my pocket. We delved into the discussion, I omitted the part of the conversation that involved the quirk molecules and reactant materials. We focused on my mom's request to have the neon sign removed and her desire for access to the garage. 

Together, we worked on drafting conditions that would ensure a fair and mutually beneficial agreement...

[usopps-goggles]

Mha Boys When You Sleep Over For The First Time

———————————————————

Featuring: Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto Todoroki,Denki Kaminari, Eijiro Kirishima, Keigo Takami (Hawks), Shouta Aizawa, ————————————————————————————

I.Midoriya: Honestly poor boy would be so nervous he barely could achieve sleep, expect a lot of him asking you if you need anything “are you cold? do you need another blanket? are you sure you wanna be this close?”. . . yeah you’re in for a long night.

K.Bakugo: Starts out farthest away as possible from you claiming he didn’t even want you over to begin with, but… gradually as the night progresses he inches closer unbeknownst to you. you wake up the next morning practically capsuled in his arms, the boy actually looking peaceful for once as he slept.

S.Todoroki: Hesitant at first, offers to take the couch multiple times before eventually giving up as you two climb into bed, is kinda awkward but relaxes gradually as his arm drapes loosely around your neck resting on your collarbone. definitely a back sleeper, you feel comforted by his. slow and paced breathing as you drift off.

D.Kaminari: Is practically bursting at the seems with excitement, can’t help but imagine lewd things that might go down with you sharing a bed, has unmistakable disappointment when he realizes there would be no… suggestive activities. is still ecstatic to be this close to you, accidentally shocks you once during the night because he was so excited…

E.Kirishima: Probably the chillest about it, pampers you and makes sure you have everything you need (because chivalry is manly he says). cuddles galore! lets you play with his hair while it’s down, lacking any product. you braid and put cute little barrettes in it. definitely is a snorer, as well as the one who moves all over the map in their sleep.

K.Takami: Hawks is over the moon on the inside but acts nonchalantly, definitely has a big ass double king size bed for his wings loaded up with pillows, snacks right before bed, you don’t know how but you’ll randomly find a feather or two smushed between some pillows. he’s a stomach sleeper curtesy of his wings, unknowingly drapes a wing around you in his sleep, you wake up to him snoring face down in the pillows.

S.Aizawa: Definitely is out cold once he hits the pillow, is already tired as is throughout the day, so once his head is graced with the luxury of a mattress he.is.gone. on days where he’s not as tired he’ll ask for massage, which you happily oblige to, your fingers working out the stress built up from teaching and being a hero. his worries slip away when he’s with you and there’s nothing he loves more than a night where he’s falling asleep in your arms, his mattress having the extra weight of his lover accompanying him.

[neesieiumz]

catharsis || ──────── s. aizawa

day five — SOMNOPHILIA / VOICE KINK / DADDY KINK

『 synopsis 』 after a long patrol, your husband comes with an ache only you can sate, only to find you deep in sleep

『 warnings 』 — 18+. sm*t. minors do not interact. husband!aizawa. pro-hero!reader. p*orn with very little plot. that's why it's shorter than my normal fics. established relationship. she is a natural disasters hero. and he has his normal job. somnophilia. voice kink. daddy kink. he is very much in love with you. like borderline obsessed with you. and vice-versa as well. female reader. black-coded reader but anyone can read. he calls you a slut but you enjoy it. sweet aftercare. was this self indulgent? i plead the fifth, how bout that?

『 writers notes 』 honestly feel like i overdid with the daddy kink but here we are! hope you enjoy it and you won't get a new ktober fic until next week tuesday! check the masterlist!

『 word count 』 3.0k

previous fic in ktober | masterlist | next fic in ktober

The night had fallen upon your home before you had known it, the twinkling stars gazing down at you, the full moon’s brightness fully mocking your somnolence. You could no longer stay up for him, no matter how much you tried. You had waited for long before sleep was beginning to overtake your body, and you knew this was another night you’d go without being able to see your husband. 

Your husband was Eraserhead to the world, but at home, he was Shouta to you. Your Shouta. The two of you were heroes, after all, that was how the two of you met. You knew the long nights that came with the job, especially with him being a teacher as well. 

Dressed in a thin two-piece set, in a pale baby blue, you lay on your bed, covered in your warm sheets, with nothing but the sounds of your automated fan blowing cool air into your room, combatting the heated summer night outside. With school out, and your husband only getting a reduced check from his main source of income, he had no choice but to join up in nightly patrols, his main specialty when it comes to hero work. 

The two of you found each other while working patrols late at night, you being a new transfer from a faraway city on the outskirts of Japan, where natural disasters were then likely to occur. 

“Eraserhead, what kind of name is that?” Your smile was wide, contagious even. 

The two of you stood in an alleyway, with him hanging upside down from it, his eyes obscured by the bulky yellow goggles he constantly wore.

“Trust me, I was definitely not the one to make it.” His voice was deep and grave, it slightly echoed through the alley. 

“That means whoever made the name must have been pretty special huh?”

It was silent for a moment, and for a moment, you thought you hit a nerve, anxiety rising within you. 

“Yeah, I guess you can say they were.”

You gleaned up at him, seeing some semblance of a smile on his face. This caused your own smile to widen slightly, standing up straight. 

Your marriage was a private one, one with family and friends only, a short, quiet, and intimate event. The two of you only had a week off for your honeymoon, during the time of which students were out for school to not mess with his schedule. The two of you are extremely busy, with his job as a hero course teacher and of course your own as a rescue and natural disasters hero. The two of you barely had time for each other, easily taking what you could with each other. You knew what came with dating and eventually marrying another hero, especially with someone like your Shouta. 

You lay across the bed, sighing as you relaxed into the comfort of the comforters, onto the softness of the mattress. Closing your eyes, hoping to bring a new day, hopefully with your husband’s arms comfortably snug around your waist. 

— — — —

You heard a squeak first. 

Your eyes barely cracked open, still heavy with sleep, as the squeaking sound got louder and longer for a moment and then stopped altogether. You didn’t move, your heart racing and beating drums within your chest as the sound of muffled footsteps got closer and closer to your bed. You could hear ruffling, like clothes were being moved before the familiar fresh scent of mahogany and lavender, your body relaxing as you did so. You opened your eyes a little bit further, being able to see the clock on your bedside table, seeing the number 2:34 glowing from the digital clock. This was a first, you never woke up when he came home from patrols, you always found yourself being wrapped up in his arms when you woke up in the morning. You tried to find the confines of sleep, hoping to easily slip into it, knowing you’ll wake up in your husband’s arms once more. 

Creaakkk…

His footsteps got closer and closer, his scent slowly gaining intensity as something within went off, like chilling tingles crawling up your spine. You could feel his eyes staring holes into you, possibly scanning your entire form wrapped up in your blankets. A familiar tingling sensation began to erupt and spread through you. It had been months since the last time he touched you, the two of you being completely swamped with work. Suddenly, the bedframe creaked, as you felt the mattress underneath you slightly dip. He was so close to you, his knee grazing up against your back, the blanket being the only thing that kept the two of you lightly touching. Droplets of water, possibly from his shower that he took when you were still deep in sleep, dripped down onto you, feeling the cool, wet spots from your blanket. You kept yourself as still as possible, sleep still dancing in your eyes. And then, all of a sudden, he crouched down, the bed creaking along as he did.

It took all your self-control not to gasp as you felt his erection pressing up against you. Even with the blanket, you could still feel it. You held back the slight gasp out a slight moan as he pushed his hip in between your bottom. He let out a hefty groan, his head falling right beside your own, his lips right next to your ear as he did. You could feel yourself clenching around nothing, feeling yourself beginning to drip down your thighs and stain your thin shorts. All of your self-control was slipping piece by piece, your body aching and wanting for him. Your breathing became shaky, you know he could hear it, and yet he continued his actions. You could feel his lips slowly press up kisses along your cheek and jawline. His nose nestled itself in between your ear and your hairline that peeked from the night-time scarf you wore, before taking a deep breath in, taking your freshly washed scent, your body wash, as well as your nighttime hair products. 

“You smell so good,” his voice wasn't strained, as if he was holding back as well.

“I missed you so much,” he spoke again, the bed creaking again as he moved, his hands beginning to move down, thumbing along the hemline of your shorts.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here as much, snowflake,” he mumbled in your ear, his hand now officially slipping down into your shorts. 

His fingers slipped in between your legs, two of his fingers easily spreading your lips apart, cool air hitting your clit, causing your body to tremble ever so slightly. Your mouth is slightly agape, drool slowly dripping out of your mouth onto your pillow. His fingers easily spilled into the mess in between your legs, pressing up against your clit. Carefully, he massaged circles into you, every movement slow and deliberate, as if he didn’t want to wake you. He probably didn’t wake you up. You had just gotten home from aiding a beach town devastated by a hurricane, pulling people out from rubble, and creating emergency service tents. 

“I know you just got back, but I…” he trailed off on his words as his fingers slipped further down, sliding in between your labia. 

“I can’t hold myself back, fuck.”

Your husband sounded so pretty, his voice straining every syllable as his hips ground more and more into you. By now, your shorts were a mess, and your underwear soaked with your juices. No longer able to hold yourself back, you softly pushed your hips back against his fingers, and hard-on. He most definitely felt your movements, letting out a massive groan as his dick twitched underneath his boxers. 

“Naughty girl, such a slut even in your sleep…” his chuckle echoed against your bedroom walls, as his fingers dipped in even further, one of them pressing into your hole. 

“Everytime I have to stay away from you, whether it be my job, or your own job, I can feel myself descending into madness–” his words suddenly cut off with a guttural groan, his hips suddenly giving off a sharp thrust.

“I am obsessed with you, you know that right?”

Tears dripped down your eyes, staining your pillows as his words enchanted you, sending great shocks of ecstasy through you. You could feel yourself trembling, only aching for him more and more. His own boxers were sticky with pre-cum, you could feel it oozing onto your satin shorts, slowly mixing in with your own soaked juices. His hand slowly pulled themselves away from your cunt, the sudden loss of pleasure causing your emotions to deflate before feeling that very same hand pulling at the hem of your shorts. You kept as still as possible as his large hands pulled your shorts down around your ankles, revealing your wet pussy. 

“Agh, fuck,” is all he could say as he suddenly sat up for a moment. 

You could hear shuffling in the background, most likely him taking off his boxers, hearing some kind of fabric being thrown in the air and landing on the floor. You felt his hands back on you, before feeling the tip of cock press up against your cunt, slipping and sliding in between your lips, gathering some of your juices. With a final swipe, before you knew it, you felt him press the tip at your pussy, your body trembling as he began to push it. 

“Baby, baby fuck–”

He pushed himself deeper into you, your eyes squeezed shut, your cunt throbbing around him.

“Missed you, missed you so fucking much,”

You had never heard him ramble like that, his usually deep gravelly voice seeped in desperation. His hands gripped at the meat of your thigh, holding your place as he rutted his hips into you. Your lips parted, and the entire area underneath them was drenched with sweat. Your hands tightly squeeze the comforter. The heat was overtaking you, a violent intensity grappling at you. Your thoughts that once ran wild soon became filled with one thought, Shouta. Everything about him was different, the way his voice hit your ears, each syllable easily ripping a new reaction out of you. It was only a matter of time before you lost control before he knew you were awake, feeling everything he was doing to you. 

“My wife, my pretty wife,” he groaned, his hands moving up and about.

“How could I fucking stay away from you?”

With his strength, he moved you about with ease. You no longer lay at your side, but instead, your knees dug into the mattress, your stomach lying against the bed. He pressed his hand against your back, your back arching up against him. He never pulled his cock out of you, staying snug inside you as he positioned you to where he wanted you to be. 

As soon as you were in position, he held no mercy towards you. Pounding away at you, like a man with nothing else to live for at that moment but to ravage you. Tears welled in your eyes as absolute euphoric pleasure took over you, it came as quick as lighting. With the sudden overload on your senses, your control over your actions snapped.

A moan slipped out of your lips, the sound causing him to falter for just a moment. With the wet sound of skin against skin, he leaned down once more, moving his long hair out of his face, finally allowing him to see the tears streaming down your face, your eyes slightly opened, rolled to the back of your head, mouth agape with spit dripping down.

One of Shouta’s hands stayed at your hips while the other suddenly reached down, wrapping around underneath your chin, pulling your body upwards with ease. Your hands propped you up as he pulled your head back, your eyes locking. The position allowed you to see just how frenzied your husband looked. His thick fat cock plunging mg into you, each movement only escalating him more and more.

“How long have you been awake sweetheart? Huh, liked what I was doing to you? Hmm?”

You tried to speak, but the only thing that could slip out of your mouth was pleas if you could even call it that.

“Daddy, Daddy-fuck, it’s too–fuck!” You screeched, gripping at the pillow as your eyes squeezed shut, overcome by the sudden frenzied thrusts your husband was sending your way. 

��Dirty little slut, letting me think you were asleep ? How long were you awake for?”

For a moment, you couldn’t answer him, only focused on the effervescent volcano building up within you. All of a sudden, his thrusts slowed down, causing you to whine as you looked back at his teary eyes. 

“I asked you, how long have you been awake?”

“Since the moment—ahh– you walked in! Since the moment, you walked in, please don’t stop fucking me, Daddy!”

Shouta suddenly pulled all the way out, your cunt only squeezing around the tip of his fat cock, before slamming it back into you, almost hitting and bruising your cervix. Both you and his own moans and groans echoed into the air, mixing together in a beautiful melody. His hand left your chin, your body flopping forward for a couple seconds before suddenly feeling your arms being jerked back. Your moans became scream-like as he grabbed at both of your wrists, suddenly pulling your arms back. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, hissing as he pummeled into you, “so fucking tight–huh, you like the way I fuck you, huh?”

You could barely get any words out, shaking your head vigorously, clenching around him. Every plunge into your cunt devoured you, your husband’s moans and groans had your body trembling. His growls reverberated within your ears, only causing your body to curl in pleasure. 

“I said,” he suddenly cut into your thoughts, your body jerking up even further, “you like the way I fuck you, slut”

“Yes, daddy!”

Shouta’s chuckle was deep, and his thrusts only overwhelmed you even further. You relished in the way your skin took the pain, feeling the bloom and sting tingle all over you. If you could blush, you knew the bottom of your thighs would be blooming red. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth, your eyes rolling out the back of your head. All of a sudden, Shouta dropped your arms, your body flopping, back arching into the bed as his hands gripped at the flesh at your hips and butt. His thrusts became erratic in nature, his already broken-down composure crumbling even further. You could hear his breathy words, soaking in the neediness laced within them. 

“Missed you so fucking much, my wife– my fucking wife.”

“Look so fucking pretty, so fucking senstive f’ me.”

“Missed this pretty fucking pussy, hate how much I have to leave you–fuck!”

Shouta’s body lurched, towering over your own. You could feel his sweat dripping down from his body, falling like light rain into your almost bareback, your thin night-top crumpled up at your bosom. Your hands crumpled up the blankets and sheets underneath you, the feeling of your tongue slightly grazing against the fabric. Your words soon dulled out, the only thing on your tongue was your monas and coherent words putting together the title you called him in bed. You could feel your cunt tightening up around him, like a ticking time bomb going off within you. 

“Such a sweet fucking pussy– fuck–” his body suddenly lunched, the bruising grip he had on your hip tightening. 

Your body convulsed, shaking in his hold as your mind went blank white, tears streaking out of your eyes as your climax ripped out of you, your juices spilling and ripping all over him. 

“Daddy!—”  your final words cut, your voice echoing against the white walls of your room.

With a final grunt, you felt your husband slump over, feeling his dick twitching inside of you, painting your walls white. Soon, the only thing you could hear was the sounds of your heavy breathing, both your and Shouta’s as well. You let out a whimper as you felt him pull out his cock out of you, leaving you with withdrawal. Without him letting go of your hips, your legs fully slumped onto the wet bed. With hands still around you, shrieking as he swept you up from the bed. You held onto him as your husband slowly got off the bed, turning your head to see him slip into your bedroom’s bathroom, using one hand to turn the light on. He placed you on the toilet, before walking to your sink. You couldn't help the soft smile that slowly appeared on your face as you heard the faucet turn on. 

He walked back over with a rag, slowly opening up your legs as you both felt and saw your cum mixed with his, dripping down your inner thigh. He moved the warm rag against your skin, letting out a short gasp as he grazed the rag against your sensitive cunt, cleaning up the main source of the mess. You heard your husband let out a breath of a chuckle, seeing a ghost of a smirk etched on his face. Your soft smile turned abashed as your hand reached up, smacking him slightly on his shoulder. Your brick house of a husband didn’t even flinch from your smack, continuing to clean you up. Soon you could feel nothing but the touch of water on your legs. Once finished, your husband slowly pulled your soaked shorts down the rest of the way, before tossing them into your laundry hamper. With nothing else, he carried you back to the bed. 

The two of you slipped underneath the sheets, his arm easily wrapping your waist as he pulled you close. You had no use of the pillows, using your husband’s naked chest, humming at the warmth that radiated off of his body. Before you knew it, you had laid a soft kiss against the beefy shoulder of your husband, before snuggling back into him. You both heard and felt him move, smiling as you felt a soft pressure against the top of your head, feeling the sensation of lips. With that, you drifted off to sleep, slowly hearing your own husband’s snores echo into her.