#soft yandere aizawa

[lolita-lollipop]

(EXTREMELY) SOFT! YANDERE AIZAWA X READER

(Request given through messages: reader who is embarrassed to tell Aizawa that they cannot sleep without a stuffed animal, as it was their comfort item throughout their childhood when their parents would fight. Eventually the reader is so exhausted that they break down and cry to him. Platonic please!)

Warnings: unmentioned stockholm syndrome, mentions of kidnapping, secondary insomnia ,yandere. You dictate what you read.

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He was always able to know when you were awake.

It was the one thing that came easily for him with you after he had taken you, the one thing he was always able to do. It was especially easy after he had moved you into his room, originally he moved you because of your most recent escape attempt, where you had actually managed to leave the house while he was sleeping, you had called the police. The call had only lasted a few moments, not even seconds before he had you roped up tightly…

But you had sounded alarmed enough to have the cops of the area in a frenzy, you sounded like the missing girl they'd been looking for for months. They had come knocking at his door the next morning, asking if he had seen or heard anything the previous night. Being a pro hero he was the last person they would even remotely suspect, so it was a quick “no”, a short visit. However, a long enough one that it had him reminded him of just how fragile your relationship was, and how you being kept on a loose leash wouldnt work.

So that night, he moved you up into his room, where you slept in his bed. With him. It took away all of your sense of freedom, your only private space, the room where you had some of your own stuff, your old stuff. You had actually ended up liking your room the most in this house, he had promised that it would be a safe space for you, somewhere he would let you enjoy yourself, with the little tv and toys that he knew you liked. He also usually would let you have your alone time when you were in your room. You liked that most of all.

He was actually able to learn so much more about you than he ever had before. Sure, he had watched you sleep plenty of times before, but it had only ever been from afar. Or through the cameras in your room. Never had he been this close. Close enough to notice your habits, and what you do. The biggest thing being: you barely were able to sleep. Ever. Maybe he was just too far away to notice it before, or maybe your lack of sleep started when he took you. The thought of that made his heart heavy.

You tried, he knew that much. Every night, you would lie down in bed, on the edge as far away as you could possibly get from him, curl up, and close your eyes. And every night the same, you would squirm, and sigh, and inevitably stay fully awake and aware all night. He pretended not to notice, as you never said anything about it and were clearly closed off to conversation about it. He couldn't help you unless you asked, otherwise, you'd get upset, he had learned that the hard way.

But he saw what your sleeping habits did to you, he should've seen it so much sooner. How you trudged around the house like there were a hundred pounds heavy on your shoulders, how the purple under your eyes just got deeper and deeper as the days passed by. You were tired, but you couldn't sleep. Eventually, after a few weeks, you stopped trying entirely, instead sitting at the edge of the bed with that far-off look in your eyes.

Sometimes it would get bad enough that you would cry, but he knew how embarrassed you could get with him, how shy you were, especially when it was about your feelings, which you generally kept to yourself.

It was always bad, but it was never this bad.

The night had started like it normally did, with him helping you with taking your vitamins after dinner, then he read you a story like he always did. After this, like every night, he tucked you in his bed, giving you the extra fluffy blanket that you liked (as you run much colder than he did), and went to get in his pajamas, leaving you alone. He only took his eyes off of you for a few minutes, long enough for him to tie his hair back and get ready for bed.

But immediately after leaving the room, he could hear you crying. He liked that the walls were thin, because he could hear everything and anything at al times l. Your cries were muffled, soft, and pained in the same way you always were. But loud enough that he was automatically put into panic mode.

Making a full sprint back into the room, he was met with the sight of you, curled up in a ball sitting on the shiny wooden floor with your knees held tight to your chest. Crying, but not the loud obnoxious crying he'd seen from villains before who just wanted sympathy, this was guttural, dripping in melancholy. He saw the way your fingernails dig into the skin of your knees, you were holding yourself too tightly. How awful.

“Baby? What's wrong? Oh god come here honey- it's okay.” immediately the burly man was on top of you, pulling his muscular arm under your knees and back, and lifting you off the floor. You were shaking like a leaf, shivering with every sob that left your mouth. Unlike most times when he tried to comfort you and you would squirm like a cat and howl like a banshee, this time you just cried into his chest, melting in his arms and letting your tears stain his shirt. Your hand clutched at his long hair, twirling it in your fingers, quivering.

“What's going on? I've noticed you've been a bit… down.” He spoke, pulling you in closer and sticking his face in your hair, kissing your head, and swiping your hair from your face. You just wrapped your arms around his neck, sticking your head into the nook of his shoulder. He always smelled the same, like some crisp orange smell with something deeper mixed with it, you grew to hate it and love it at the same time. You quieted your cries slowly, mustering up any resolve or courage you had in your system to try and talk to him.

“I- uhm- It's embarrassing,” you muttered into his shoulder, closing your eyes and letting yourself relax into him.

“Oh? What is? You can trust me, baby, I won't tell anybody.” He cooed, continuing to cup your face and stroke your cheek with his thumb. Your answer had piqued his interest, yes, you had always been closed off and embarrassed about yourself around him. Even before he had taken you, you were his student, the one who was quiet and reserved, you sat in the back of the classroom and were well likable to all the other students. He could never tell what you were thinking, you kept your head down and only answered questions when called on with that timid voice of yours that he loved. But today your voice was wavering, exhausted.

“I’m just so tired. And- It's because- I just can’t- uhm- i-” Your breathing became heavy and fast, tears re-clouding your eyes. You couldn't remember the last time you'd actually cried this way, at least not with a man like Aizawa, especially not with your teacher. You met his gaze for a few seconds, staring into the way they crinkled with both age and kindness. He urged you to go on, raising a brow. God, when had you become so trusting of him?

“I can't sleep without my bunny” you rushed out, immediately breaking your gaze and flushing, oh my god what kind of idiot were you? How pathetic was it that you, a college student, couldn't manage to sleep without the help of a stuffed animal? You knew he was looking at you like you were an idiot, the way your parents used to all the time. You thought he was judging you, thinking you were pathetic, stupid.

But it couldn't be more different. Oh. my. God. you were absolutely the cutest thing he'd ever seen in his entire life. He could remember seeing that bunny in your arms now that he thought about it, when he would watch over your house while you would sleep to make sure nothing happened, you were always holding that bunny. But he had stupidly not grabbed it when he took you, instead opting for a teddy bear. How absolutely precious could you be? His awed silenced only made you feel worse.

“I- I know it's stupid- it's just since I was a kid I had trouble sleeping because my parents- my parents would fight and it was the only thing-” You took a long- shaky breath, trying to calm yourself down “-the only thing that would help me- don't be mad please I know it's dumb” You cried out, burying your head as deep into his shoulder as you could. You wanted to disappear right now. You should've just stayed quiet, oh he was judging you for sure. What kind of idiot were you? You knew that he-

“Oh my god, you are the cutest thing arent you? Baby, why didn't you tell me sooner? I knew you weren't sleeping well but I didn't know this was why. I would've been happy to get it for you, it's not embarrassing at all” he spoke, cupping your teary-eyed face and pulling it out from his shoulder, he pressed a firm kiss on your forehead and wiped the tears from your cheeks. You just sniffled and leaned in, too tired to care about anything other than the fact that he was warm and nice.

“ look hon- ill get it for you soon I promise, but we live too far for me to go tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Can we try something though? Is that okay?” he was talking so softly to you now, so kindly. Usually, you would've been suspicious of his actions, being that it was extremely different from how you'd seen him in the classroom. But your brain had essentially turned to mush the past few weeks, and you were far too exhausted to care. You nodded, staring up at him with glossy eyes, what was he planning?

“It's nothing bad. Just relax, close your eyes.” the sturdy man commanded, cupping your head as he lifted himself, along with you, off the floor again. He squeezed you tight as he made his way across the room, grabbing your fuzzy blanket before settling into the bed, you pressed firmly against his chest. You were small in comparison to him. Small enough to fit on top of him comfortably. He settled under the blanket and wrapped his arms around your waist, staring at you with those loving grey eyes he had throughout the entire process.

Staring up at him in confusion for a few moments at what he was doing , you managed to let out a small “Huh?” before he shushed you, and tightened his grip. Pulling the blanket over your shoulders, he slipped his hand up and down your back, drawing small circles around and around, leaving a tingling sensation to rack down your spine. He had you melting like putty in his arms.

“Just relax baby, Ill protect you from everything there is. Just try and sleep okay? I'm here.” At his words, you sank into his chest, letting your cheek squish on him. He usually wasn't affectionate, this was very likely for your own benefit now that you think about it, as you had obvious discomfort with being touched (due to your complete lack of physical affection growing up).

But this… his touch alone sent warm waves through your heart, this was so comfortable, so soft. So warm. The way his breathing lifted you up and down with every breath he took, the way the circles he was placed on your back melted your bones, how the blanket was so soft, how he was so soft. It was so… comfortable. The exhaustion that had built up over the past few weeks settled in the front of your head, weighing your eyelids closed. Before you knew it you had your hand clutched tightly around his shirt, and you were dozed off, letting little mutters and snores leave your mouth as you slipped into a deep sleep.

Oh, you were just so precious. He genuinely didn't think that you could be any more fragile than what he had previously believed. However, he was so so so wrong. You couldn't complete your life functions without the help of a plush-filled bunny. How cute was that? It just made him feel more attached, you were so helpless. Too innocent for your own good. You would never have to deal with anything that would require the help of your bunny anymore.

He would make sure of it

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I love how I’m writing about insomnia as it is five in the morning and I haven’t slept yet🤪

Anywya the anon who requested this wanted to remain anonymous but Ily for requesting his! Thanks!

Also thanks to those reading right now, ily too!

Anyways tell me what you think, it very likely hs many grammatical errors that I will not be fixing. I’m gonna sleep now goodnight!

Have a great day! Bye!

[fluff-n-cookies]

soft yan! Dadzawa Head canons

SPOILERS DONUT DO NOT READ also contains light swearing

• Aizawa is the type of person to hold the Cat in his arms So you can pet it, since it's too big for you to hold. it Just makes his Day when he sees the way your eyes light up when you hear the cat start to purr.

• we will also wrap you up in his scarf if you even say it's too cold. (you and Nezu are scarf buds!) Just say the word and he's rolling out the sleeping bag and prepping to make your favorite hot chocolate with the extra whipped cream and cat marsh mallows and we all know he has all your favorite cartoons for the two of you to binge together!

• however, like most things, it's not perfect.

• a good example of this is that Aizawa likes to have you nap on his lap as he is grading papers.

BUT YOU WANT A BEDTIME STORY

and Aizawa tries his best but he will probably come up with a story worthy of being a german fairy tale. (translation: there are no happy endings, sorry.)

BUT AIZAWA IS SMART ... enough

most of the time he ends up reading to you Denki and Mineta's test answers. and by the time he's done you're asleep.

and then his mind starts to wander,

you just remind him so much of Oboro

how you always manage to light up the room with your smile, how you always manage to be pretty Badass yet kind, and how you always care for others so deeply.

he won't let you go, not this time.

some times, he'll lay awake at night sitting on the couch just curled up into a ball just thinking about the future, when he's all old and wrinkly, maybe you'll be a beautiful young lady (oh who am I kidding, ofc your will! some of you are! others are just beautiful!)

then will you leave him?

that's when he gets up to go look at your photo album. from when you were a newborn, to now, when you are a toddler.

that's when he comes to the conclusion, you may older, but he will always be your dad, he will always protect you.

sometimes Eri joins him, and draws hearts around the ones with you and her, or you Aizawa and her.

likes helping you do your hair, braids are his favorite, but he'll do any hair style as long as it's not too hard.

Aizawa loves you, nothing more than that <3

[thetreefairy]

Platonic Aizawa and Present mic where they reader looks like they’re about to having a mental breakdown any second and she doesn’t take her medication. (I just cheek my medication or just don’t take them)

Warnings: mental breakdowns, reader hates meds (like me), forced medicine intake, talks of punishments since she/her pronouns are used in the ask, those will be used. KO-FI

Reader hates her meds, everyone knew it, it was quite obvious. Often their friends in 1-a had to beg them to take her medication. And Reader took her medication so that they wouldn’t tell Aizawa or his partner Hizashi.

Only this time, Hizashi and Aizawa noticed themselves. 

“Reader is scared, she had been targeted by Dabi herself, so maybe she simply didn’t notice the way she was acting.” Hizashi told Aizawa, trying to defuse the situation. Aizawa always had the worst yandere tendencies of the two. “Iida told me she didn’t take her meds 5 times this week.” Aizawa hissed at Hizashi. “I am simply going to check if she took them.”

“Reader.” Aizawa tapped Reader’s shoulder, they were in the library. “Aizawa-sensei?” Reader mumbled out. “What is wrong, is there a new mission?”

Aizawa shook his head. “No, did you take your medication?”

Reader chuckled nervously; “So that’s what you want..”

“Did you take them?” Aizawa pressed, Reader shook her head. “They make me feel slow, I need to be on guard right now.”

This was an obvious lie.

“You are completely safe in U.A, and if I remember correctly you have no home visits.” Aizawa stated. “So that excuse is bullshit, follow me.”

“But, I still have to study sensei.”

“You can study later.” Aizawa hissed. “Don’t make me drag you.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll follow you.” Reader mumbled. Aizawa asked Hizashi to follow them as well. “What is this an intervention?” Reader joked when they arrived in the teacher lounge, the place she was usually brought to when she was going to get scolded. She then saw Hizashi pull her meds out.

“You are going to be taking your meds in front of us now.” Hizashi told her gently. “And if you don’t we will have to punish you.” Aizawa interrupted. Reader’s eyes widened; “Excuse me? You guys aren’t my parents!”

“We might as well be.” Hizashi mumbled, and Aizawa nodded in agreement. “Your parents are doing a shit job, letting you skip your medication so much.”

“Hizashi-sensei! How dare you talk about my parents like that!” Reader stood up angrily, and made the movement to walk away. Aizawa grabbed the pill out of his partner’s hand and showed it to Reader. “You better sit down, take your fucking pill and listen to us.”

“Fuck off.” Reader hissed, still angry at how they insulted their parents. Reader started to walk away only to be stopped by Aizawa's capture weapon. Hizashi moved to hold Reader down, cooing at them. “I am not mad at you, don’t worry.” He said as he saw Reader doing their best to get out of his arms. “I will forgive you for swearing at us if you take your meds.”

Reader shook her head, she didn’t want to take her medication. Especially around them, they seemed weirder than usual. And her medication makes her quirk weaker.

Hizashi tried to convince Reader to take it, and when Aizawa finally had enough he opened their mouth and put the pills in her mouth.

Before she could spit them out, he shut her mouth with his hand and closed her nose, forcing her to swallow the pills.

“Assholes.” Reader breathed out when she could speak again. “Now that is no way to speak to us.” Hizashi scolded Reader. “Maybe we should show the police the shit your parents have been pulling then we really will be your parents.”

[theextratreefairy]

Cuddles are a must

gender neutral reader

soft yandere Aizawa Shota x reader (edited)

Warnings: Kidnapping, touchstarved reader, punishment mentions, crying, reader has a love-hate relationship with Aizawa right now, reader is autstic (mainly how I handle my own autisme aka masking, I guess very self indulgent) terrible writing, gimme shota advice.

Reader didn't know how to feel anymore, they were kidnapped yet they yearned for Aizawa Shota's touch. But at the same time they want to drop sleeping pills in his food.

Shota was quite aware of this development, Reader is scared of everything and yet wants his attention and shower him with their affection and be showered with affections. Especially after punishments.

"Reader, food is ready!" Shota shouted out into his apartment, Reader was most likely hiding in one of the 'safe' rooms. The 'safe' rooms were rooms that Reader was never punished in, even if they were in those rooms when they broke a rule. Reader dragged themselves into the dining room, looking rather nervous. "Shota-san?" Reader started as Shota set the table. "Yes, love?" Shota hummed. "Can you cuddle me please?"

"We can cuddle while we eat."

And that they did, Reader felt relieved, yes. But they felt unsure as well. "Cuddles are a must." Reader mumbled sleepy as they ate slowly. Shota was rubbing their back slowly while offering them some dumplings while smiling.

It was progess, even if it was small, perhaps he wouldn't have to punish them on every turn again.

"Indeed, cuddles are a must."

@maggiecc

[pumpkin-pi-e]

Yanderes Aizawa, Hanzo, McCree, and Toji like to pretend you don't know what your clit is for.

I Ain't As Good As I Once Was

“This is your pussy. This is your pretty little pussy. You might have touched her before, but I’ll teach you how to spoil her.”

God, I love sad older men.

Content Warnings: forced cunnilingus (female receiving), overstimulation (female), c*mming in pants, fingering, kidnapping themes, self-flagellation (Hanzo), worship (Hanzo), dirty talk, mommy kink (Toji), implied gambling addiction, your implied age is -26 (Toji), Age gap, neglect on account of gambling addiction, breeding kink, pregnancy talk, (Toji) forced pregnancy? (Toji), dubious consent (Toji)

Not recommended for those under eighteen.

You try and touch yourself to show that you know how to make yourself cum. You've been doing this for years.

Aizawa

Aizawa swats your hand. No, no. You won't do it properly. You won't do it until you shake, cry, and run down your thighs. But he will. He won't overstimulate you if you don't want him to. He will work you through your orgasm, though. No matter how much you claw, beg, and squirm. You'd wanted to get off, and Aizawa will ensure you get every last bit out of this. He'll make sure you come in his mouth, make sure your cum slides down his chin. No matter how angry you are at yourself. No matter how hurt you feel. He can be tender—can make those thighs burn and those tits jiggle in a way you can't. "This is your clit, sweet girl. I'm gonna make it purr for you."

The last remains of his words drive into your ears as his mouth finds yours. The finger in your panties swept back and forth over the smooth, leathery skin of your clit the way a slow tide would swathe and flee a shoreline.

"Nn!" Fizzy pleasure bloomed in warm, scattered waves throughout your pelvis. You twitch forward the slightest amount, subtly humping yourself into a breathy, whining mess. "'s not a cat."

Aizawa draws a lazy circle around its sensitive edges, and your thoughts water.

"It can't—" Ah! "—caaan't purr." Your voice curled. It rose and wavered like a tilde symbol—building high and going all melted butter toward the end as you lurch into the wonderful crest of good he inspired. Your hips obeyed the spasms in your tummy and curled without decision or thought.

"It already is." It's practically vibrating. Singing.

"Can't you feel her purring?" Aizawa made the most agonizing, thigh-shuddering passes over your clit. You arch, arch (uhn, God!), arrrrrrrch into each one. Your clit is ringing, purring.

"Kitty's melting in my hand." She's really showing out for attention, wetting and trickling down his palm. Your small cravings are his responsibility, as were all your larger needs. He's your provider and caretaker. You rely on him for everything else, so why not this? When are you going to learn that Daddy does it better? He can satisfy them better than you ever could.

"Don't—don't call it that."

"But it purrs."

Oh! Oh, oh! It—it—oh, please, god, oh. He's using his nails, teeth, whatever he has. Aizawa sucks a bruise right into your neck. You shiver, squeal, and wriggle. How could a neck be this sensitive?

Aizawa doesn't budge. His heart thumps as you push at him, half-hearted. Enamored with any short amount of contact, Aizawa hums. You twist away from that, too, the sensation foreign on your skin. Aizawa takes a deep huff of your neck (your scent) and falls onto you like a dead weight. The new position traps his hand down the front of your panties and you underneath him.

"If it purrs, then it's a kitty. This cute kitty makes you a queen. And a purring queen means it's time for a litter." He's still working on you—working your clit and mons. You're soaking. You're hot. You arch into his hands, desperate, nearly out of your mind.

"Why do you have to be such a kinky bastard?"

"Because you like it." His stubble scrapes against your neck. Aizawa does it often, notably during 'quiet moments,' so you'll familiarize the sensation with safety.

Or so you suspect.

The brambly term of affection came often, but from what you gathered, it reserved itself for special occasions (you're convinced he stole it from his cats). When cramps left you withered and spent, Aizawa lifted you from the lonely little corner you'd carved for yourself underneath the kotatsu and reoriented you onto his lap for something to lean on—something to wring your grief into, should you need it. Shouta said he could take it—that he wouldn't mind—and had the scars to prove it, namely, the one beneath his eye. It was hard to argue in the face of something so tangible. Yet, it left a sour feeling of worms in your gut.

You're in pain. You don't want to be pain for someone else. You don't want to hurt him—he's never hurt you.

Just because he can doesn't mean he should.

He's pushing you forward, wanting you on your knees. "Because it gets your kitty panting."

It vibrated.

"W-who said I liked it?" Your tummy tremors and sweats as his fingers trace those hidden valleys.

"She did." Aizawa dove in for a quick, lascivious kiss. "She purred so sweetly." He lapped at your clit, hot and moist and delicious. "It must be love."

Calls your vagina 'kitty.'

He talks to it (which perturbs and delights you to no end). Cum for me, kitty. Isn't Daddy treating you nicely?

You know in your soul you aren't the 'kitty' he's referring to. Aizawa only called you kitty when you were topping. He had a habit of going into a deep mantra whenever you did. "Kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty..." Aizawa sighed under his breath, sometimes moaned, and others thinly whined as you rode him and as he watched through sexed eyes progressively getting lower and lower until they would eventually close. He'd seize shortly after. And if you didn't stop, Aizawa gasped it (half-heartedly attempting to shuffle out from under you, gently pushing at your coasting thighs with jittery palms. Outside of that, you were 'kitten.'

When she obeys, Aizawa gives her kisses and licks—so many that you'd stammer and beg him to stop. He attacks with fervor, and with your weak-kneed body, he pins you there, grunts, and gives you mouthfuls of his tongue, which leads you to beg, this time more openly.

Aizawa repeatedly kissed the top of your vulva, where your clit lay beyond its folds. Such an obedient kitty. —kiss— Such a perfect darling. So good. —kiss— So perfect.

He doesn't torture you for too long. Aizawa (generally) won't overstimulate you unless you want him to. He'll even apologize. He just had to give his kitty her due.

The guiltiest (second to Toji) in pretending you're too naive and innocent to know what your clit is for, let alone how to use it. He'll smack your hand away (reawakening memories of your father swatting your chubby little hands when they had something they shouldn't).

You can insist you know what you're doing, and he'll insist you don't.

"Feel these?" You touch your outer labia. Aizawa's hand is over yours, guiding it. "These are your pretty lips." Gummy, soft, and perfect for his teeth. He'd use them for pillows if you'd let him. You wouldn't, though. There's no way Aizawa could get close enough to smell you without getting a taste.

"They'd look prettier curing my insomnia." In other words, he's telling you to ride him until he passes out, or rather, throwing out an invitation. Your lips have erased his dry eye and lifted his depression. Simply gorgeous.

"How would I..." How could your vaginal lips cure someone's depression?

"Simple," He's against your ear. His hair gave you shivers as it fanned your neck. "You sit on my face," Together, your hands rode parted lips. They kneaded love into your skin that settled in your ovaries. "and rut." Your hips went forward with a gasp, unexpected and on cue. No matter the situation, Aizawa never failed to sound like a college professor three years away from retirement. He speaks to you as he would his colleagues and students. There is no bedroom voice, growl, or husk other than his natural warmth—warmth that made you swallow from the very lips he made you touch. Made you restless on his lap.

"If you knead them gently," he says, "they'll make you feel nice." Your knees knock when Aizawa focuses on the entrance hidden in your labia, circling it. "But not as nice as this," Aizawa pats your pussy, sending ripples through your body.

Slap!

Something liquid-warm fires across your hipbones, following a path up your spine, reminding you of when Aizawa kissed you. You call his name in a panic. What is this, and why is it delicious? Unadulterated joy tore through you like a storm in Texas-May. It stole your tongue, and the thoughts it couldn't finish—stole the bones from your body. The ache reverberating in your core was a flash-bang replacing everything but Shouta's name with bright white. It rang like a bell from the ovaries out, telling the rest of your body it was in love. It scares you. "Shouta—"

Slap!

"You're alright, pretty. You're going to be a big girl and cum, that's all."

Slap!

Oh, God.

"Intense, isn't it?" His chin sits in the crook of your neck. Aizawa watched you stutter after his hand and gently convulse.

Slap!

Your body hums like a Ford Mustang at a stop light. It lurched into each tap—tipping over the crosswalk markings in the concrete, eager and desperate for him to take you over the edge. Nervous foot on the petal, it waited for green.

"Come on, pretty girl. Almost there."

Slap!

Your thighs snap shut. Pleasure so soft and sweet spreads throughout your body. The ache becomes ecstasy, and the guilt becomes glee. It swells and sways like storm clouds in New Orleans, easily hitting your lungs and filling you with the finest summer rain.

Did you think for a second Aizawa wouldn't praise you? "Yes, kitten. Yes, kitty." He's agreeing with all your sobbed gibberish, rubbing you out because he knows you won't. His finger is hard on your clit when you buck and shimmy to escape the rush—the pleasure that won't stop knocking. Again, he won't take you past what you can handle, but you're riding that coaster to the end: no stops or pauses. You're getting every single clench, every tooth-chattering, leg-shaking, hip-raising flood of absolute 'God, yes,' that follows.

Aizawa was a decent man—was. It's wrong. It goes against every code, the oath he'd taken with the acceptance of his license. He made excuses for the inexcusable. Every day he went out and fought for freedom while ignoring yours. Swift on his legs when avenging the cries of the innocent, Shouta let yours fall on deaf ears.

Hanzo

Hnng. But forced cunnilingus. Dubcon, only because you're overstimulated, and Hanzo is stubborn. If you haven't squirted, he hasn't done his job. He had his pride as a man to uphold.

Hanzo raises your hand to his lips. He kisses it, clasps it, and restrains it to the bed. "Let me tend to you. So long as you warm my bed, you won't lift a finger." He kissed your neck and collarbone. "Not for your pleasure," Hanzo gently spread your labia. "Not for mine. This time it is for you, my queen."

A shiver runs down your spine. Your mind fills itself with visions of Hanzo taking you. He never has—claimed he could never 'defile' you. That didn't stop him from fingering your clit, drawing you to orgasm, or turning you into a mess of nerve endings.

"You are divine." You're a gift from the gods. Hanzo prayed they would keep him from succumbing to temptation, but it was useless. He had never been able to resist a challenge, and this time would be no different. His prayers didn't stop his cock from sliding against his expensive sheets, wishing it were your body his seed had coated, giving the legacy he'd spent a lifetime chasing.

His queen enjoyed testing him, denying him his duty as a husband. Why trouble yourself with matters such as these when he is so capable? He had solved many puzzles and navigated treacherous waters with ease, yet she seemed to think his skills were limited to a bow and arrow. Do you truly believe he cannot satisfy your needs?

Hanzo fondled your clitoris. "This is a husband's duty."

He moved down between your thighs.

"This is a wife's duty." He said as you whimpered. "To moan as a man pleasures you. To lie back and know your body is in his hands. To take your pleasure and offer your own." His tongue found you. You writhed against the bed, unable to stop your body's rhythm from matching his tongue's motions.

"Allow me." Hanzo touched your clit the way you'd tried to, his tongue deep in your core.

You wouldn't know the first thing about settling your body's aches. That was Hanzo's business. Your hands need only grab onto his hair when it all becomes too much for you.

Hanzo is skilled with a tongue, with a cock, with a razor-edged sword.

"Let me tend to what is mine."

Hanzo kisses your thighs, thighs that a man has never kissed. Thighs that tremble and shake so terribly you fear for your health. You can't breathe. Your heart is pounding, and you feel your mind slipping away. Colors bleed into the corner of your vision, static and buzzing like an old TV.

But Hanzo keeps kissing, licking. Your thoughts slur, and your tongue is no better.

'an...H-han.. c'n.. cn't... Your eyes roll—your back arches. Tears run into your hairline; Hanzo tightens his grip on your hand as your other one blindly scrabbles at his bedsheets. "H-han! Z-z—Oh, my God..." A wash of electricity ravaged your body. Pleasure so raw and sweet your voice croaks out hoarsely, love pouring from your lips in a flood of passionate syllables.

His grasp remains firm as you jerk into his waiting tongue. You try not to. You try and fight your body's natural curl toward the very thing bathing it in pleasure—foolish woman. Hanzo tongued harder and doubled his hold to keep you pinned throughout your cries and gurgles.

Cry for me, my Goddess, my queen, so I may worship you harder. Seek my hand if you are overwhelmed. Cling to me. I promise to be your source of strength and comfort. Security is the least of a husband's duties. Make me strive for the breath of freedom, then deny it to me all at once. Show me with cries that I am worthy, yet prove with the heat in your thighs that I am nothing.

Unable to praise you to the extent he'd like, Hanzo returned your moans from deep between your clenched thighs. He licks harder and faster, and he just isn't stopping. You deserve all this and more—to drown in your own wet and swallow hard enough to see heaven.

So beautiful. —Lick— So generous to me, my queen.

Your body is a waterfall that Hanzo would happily kneel underneath. Hanzo was no Buddhist, but he believed you could purify his wretched soul. In you, he'd find redemption. Your heat could make a blind man see. Surely, it could cleanse the stain of his past.

No matter how many passes his tongue made, you had more to give.

You scratch his sheets, and Hanzo has never been so jealous. The skin of his back tingles at the mere thought of hovering above you, thrusting into you - warm, soft, and perfect as you carve into his back and warm his ear with your crying breaths.

You can feel your breath swelling, becoming a low chant of pleasure as Hanzo continues to lap at the valley between your hips. Hanzo rewards your pussy for each hungry gulp as it comes and comes and comes by flicking his tongue over its pounding entrance. Wildly twitching, it swallowed deep and hungry—a trail of wet escaped. Hanzo licked that too.

"Can't… Hanzo, can't…." You reach out desperately for the headboard, using the bed covers to help propel you forward. When this failed, you mustered all of your strength and used your core to drive yourself forward, shoving his head with a surprising force. With each attempt, you inched closer and closer toward freedom.

His hand grabs at your waist, pulling you towards him as he licks and sucks. You can feel yourself trembling on the edge of something big—an adventure you aren't ready to take.

Hanzo watches you above your knees; he looks you in the eyes as you gasp and wheeze. You plead, and the archer licks your outer lips. Hanzo sucks your clit, hums. Your words gargle in the back of your throat.

The hand in his hair turns into a fist. Hanzo moaned.

At some point, he mumbled in your folds, snippets of "goddess" and "queen" as his hips repeatedly struck the mattress. The groans he's making have your ovaries flushing, your cunt fluttering. Hanzo's panting by the end, but he doesn't stop licking.

Hanzo, for all his dignity and grace, wants you to put him on his knees. Make him work and beg for air. Then, smother him.

Can you imagine Hanzo pinning you to the bed, claiming he's wronged you and needs to atone? You can scream that you forgive him, that it's unnecessary, but he won't accept it. What good is forgiveness if he doesn't earn it?

Or, he goes down on you before every Overwatch mission to "strengthen his mind and body" to better prepare.

"H-Hanzo. Why—" You bit your finger to keep from moaning (squirming). You don't need any bruises. Your hips still bear the thick shape of his fingers.

"Why not just—ah!—just train more?"

"You are the only meditation I need."

Hanzo’s bed once filled itself with women from all walks of Asia. Sojiro filled his bed with women from all walks of Asia. Differing accents, differing traditions. Same economic status. None of them would have been good enough for his father. The thirst for an heir may not have originally been his own, but the need still burned beneath his painted skin. The dragons grew restless, for Hanzo’s desire was their own. The dragon lord had never truly given up on his future children.

Unconsciously plays into your worship kink

Step on him

Physically a virgin, spiritually a whore

Not inexperienced, per se. The terms by which Hanzo lost his virtue weren't his own, so Hanzo ignored them.

Vanilla in theory and theory alone. Missionary, no anal. Ever. But he'd clean his spend from your 'temple' (inside and out) in gratitude and penance. First, for deeming him worthy of such a privilege. Second, for dirtying you and finishing without your consent.

He's kneeled at your feet, kissing them and offering his sacrifice.

It's all amusement and spectacle until he asks what punishment you deem suitable for his transgression.

Is he serious? You came three times in the last forty minutes.

You should be at his feet. You could never cum like that on your own.

Hanzo decides for you

You're shuffling off the bed when he reaches for his bow

He expects you to use honorifics after his name. You are his wife, and he is your husband. You must address him with respect.

Call him 'lord Hanzo' in jest, and the archer closes in on himself. Memories of a life he'd long abandoned close in on all sides. He kindly asks that you don't tease him in such ways. You know nothing of his past. Hanzo doesn't blame you for his reaction to your words; you only meant to play with him, as a wife should. Humor, and not ridicule. (Not that he thought himself undeserving of it. If a divine creature decided he needed humbling, who was he to feel any different?

Hanzo shies from titles that place him above you, "master, King, God, etc."

Jesse McCree

"Now," Jesse stood with his hands resting on his belt, the light from its buckle glinting off into your eyes and reflecting the terror you felt. His hips tilt to one side as he observes you silently. "Why doncha tell me again what you were hopin' to accomplish with them tiny little hands o' yours."

Panic flashed in your eyes because Jesse widened his stance and raised his hands.

You still scramble further up the bed.

"Nah, ya ain't in trouble," Jesse said as he removed his hat and tossed it on the side of your dresser. Always mindful of Ma's etiquette lessons, Jesse knew better than to enter a lady's room wearing his hat. Was impolite. You don't enter a lady's room 'less you come naked. "Pity she didn't teach me to knock," he added with a smile.

Confusion twisted your features. Jesse often said things that you weren't sure how to interpret.

His slow smile told you he was a man looking out after his own. It made your heart beat faster. He wasn't here to hurt you.

"Just show Uncle Jesse what you were up to 'fore I came in." He moved closer, the bed frame squeaking beneath his boots. "Lemme see what you got," he said. Jesse reached out, and you flinched.

But his hands only brushed a finger across your cheek, pushing away a strand of hair. "Ya got somethin' special in those hands," he said gently as his fingers pressed against your skin.

You become aware of the hands covering your modesty. You glance at your bare thighs out of habit when Jesse references the heat between them.

"Come on now, don't get all bashful," He said before you could try to hide under the blankets. You had a way of scurrying off like a little mole whenever he teased you too much. Shy, sweet, and gentle. He could eat you up for days.

"Show me how ya touch 'er when you're all alone."

You pull your cami over your thighs to deter those mocha-brown eyes. Jesse raised a brow that was just as dark. "Ya ain't got nothin' to hide, girl. I already seen it all." He said. Good-natured, southern charm oozed from his every sentence. Yet, you still felt like you were standing in the principal's office and caught doing something wrong.

But Jesse smiled as though what he said was meant to make you feel better. He leaned down, kissing your forehead as if it were the world's most natural thing.

"I'm… I'm loud.." Your knees draw together.

His smile was lopsided. "Good thing all the gunfire and explosions drown out hearing." He said, referencing the hearing aids he wore in his ears.

Did you think a little thing like that would ever be a problem? Bless your sweet little heart.

You weren't sure what to say. 'I'm sorry?' Would he think you're pitying him?

But he just let out a chuckle and shook his head. "Don't sweat it, sugar." A large palm ruffled your hair affectionately. "Now, why don't you show Uncle Jess what you were playin' with?" He asked again, his voice a little more playful this time.

"You..you really can't hear?" You fidgeted with the hem of your cami, not wanting to make eye contact.

His grin widened, "Not a thing." Jessie lied. "I'll even take 'em out if ya want." He started to take off his hearing aids, but you stopped him.

"No, no! That's... That's not necessary." You said quickly.

"Well, alright then." He said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"How's 'bout you let this old cowboy have that weapon yer holdin'?"

Weapon?

"Oh, she's lethal." Jesse winced playfully. "One could take out a man if it's aimed properly."

"She?" You asked, curious.

Jesse held back the brunt of his laughter. "Yer pussy, sugar. It's a she."

Your expression has him losing his composure. He had the courtesy to turn away and chuckle. The insult on your face had him in stitches.

"Well, shoot." He said after a while, finally managing to compose himself. "I ain't mean to make no fun of ya. Just thought you'd like to know your kitty got a name."

Your body ran hot, and your heart thumped against your chest. You can't believe how Jesse made you feel with just a few words and one little joke. You could see the mischievous glint in his eyes and knew he would make you squirm again.

"Respectfully, I'm gonna need to see those hands of yours." He said, that same southern gentleness in his voice like before.

Jesse whistled as your hands lifted, low and appreciative.

"I'll be damned..." You're sweet enough to top his apple pie. If he had it, Jesse would've held his hat to his chest; those thighs could carry him through the Arizona desert.

"You can take my breath away any day," Jesse said with a grin. He drank those thighs ten times over before they'd self-consciously shut. He was drunk on you as he was on moonshine.

"Hands back on your holster. Show me how you use it."

With his boot planted firmly on the mattress, brown eyes staring you down, you touched yourself. You'd jumped at the first brush of a hesitant finger against the peach fuzz clothing your mons—prickly and on its way to growing—cold fingers startling skin that hardly ever felt a temperature change. You've never been more thankful for those stubborn hairs that always grew back despite your best efforts. It offered a level of decency—privacy—during a private act made public. You map your vulva, getting a feel for it. Your legs spread as you become more comfortable with the movements and sensations that kiss you nightly when the house is sleep—as comfortable as you could be with a man like Jesse McCree looming over you.

You were very aware of him—his presence, his smell. You could feel him in your veins as you touched yourself, and he watched. He dared not move a muscle lest it scared you off.

The situation might be foreign, but the sweetness in your abdomen isn't. The toe-curling warmth made you want to rock and hum into its beautiful calm. It took the stress out of a very stressful situation. How odd to find yourself tense in the middle of your go-to stress relief.

You moved with clinical precision, not for pleasure but to show Jesse you weren't helpless. You felt like the Tin Man—joints stiff, robotic, and locking together when thoughts of what you were doing and in front of whom caught up to you. The need to defend yourself from any infantilism oiled them and kept them going. Your breath gets heavier as the pleasure builds inside of you, regardless.

Could you even cum like this?

Doubtful.

There wasn't anything too exciting about tracing up and down your lips, still wet from the 'exercise,' Jesse interrupted. Your clit still pulsed despite cologne tickling your nose like spice (or maybe because of it).

He was so close.

With the scent of tobacco and leather on his clothes, Jesse Mccree had your undivided attention. You can't look at him, but the thought of staring into those deep brown eyes while you circled your clit and cried the prettiest you could make you swallow down below. Your clit throbs, and you massage it before you can stop yourself. You play with the hood, fragile and unsure. It isn't enough, but you don't want to appear indecent. God, if only you could throw open your legs and—

"That ain't how ya do it. Touchin' 'er like that, bet you don't even know what she's called."

Of course, you do. It's a vagina. Not a 'her,' not a 'she.' You told him so.

"Aw, now. You'll hurt 'er feelings. Tell me what you call 'er, darl.'"

"It… it's my vagina." You emphasize the word 'it.'

Jesse shook his head. Shoulda knew you'd call 'er somethin' dull and childish.

"Move aside, sugar." Jesse motioned for you to stand. A cigarillo was all that was needed to complete the toothy grin as he sat, cybernetic hand hitting his thigh. "Come sit on Papa's lap. He's gon' show ya what she's for. How to touch 'er."

You stood uncertain before him, blanket held to your sex. The red fabric pooled between your legs and onto the floor.

"I don't bite, sugar." He said. It's the softest you'd ever heard him.

Your lips thin to a pensive line.

This is a bad idea. But the prospect of this man sipping you like he did his whiskey was thrilling.

You look past him toward his hat on the dresser, and the blanket drops. So do Jesse's eyes. But that grin? It stretches to something boyish, handsome, and white. He savors, just as you'd hoped; he savored himself so fully your legs ache to cross over each other. He's fixated on your vagina. You hope he can't see it swallow.

"This is your little pussy." Jesse spread you open with two fingers. You squirm on his thick thighs. He's mountainous and warm against your back; you hardly cover two-thirds of his broad chest. He must spray cologne directly on it. Woodsy Pine and Old Spice took you to a campfire with marshmallows and Southern folklore. You don't think about the chestnut hairs peeking out of his flannel. You can't. You'll die.

"This is your pretty little pussy." He rubbed your fatty, wet lips with four fingers—rough and widened in a V-shape.

Your vag—your pussy clenches, tingly.

"You may have touched 'er before," He swiped your clit side-to-side, hitting nerve endings that had you bucking on his tan, human finger. "but I'll teach you how to spoil 'er." He dipped one deep inside.

"And fill 'er up."

Your cries are as helpless as your hips as they help him fuck your pussy open. He stretches her so good you can't recall when you began referring to her as a she. You fuck yourself on his fingers until pleasure gushes from your cunt.

An involuntary gasp escapes your lips as he collects his first load in his fingers. You're there.

"You wanna cum, and I can make it happen, sugar." Jesse held you as you shook. Robotic arm slung over your waist, he let you use his finger to draw out your end. He pumped into you occasionally—lazy and matching your weakening thrusts.

"Ain't nothin' wrong with bein' greedy. Uncle Jesse will let ya have seconds if ya want 'em."

You just keep goin', doncha? You're a lil fighter—pushin' those shuddery hips forward even as you gasp and choke.

Ya weren't lyin'. Yer loud. Not in a cutesy way, either. You're raw, unapologetic.

Jesse loves it.

Nothin' worse than a woman who does all that dainty shit.

You cried so long and hard your voice tapered into a husk.

"These fingers were made for women. Made for touchin' 'em." Any internalized shame blew in the wind when Jesse used his thumb to swipe your sensitive clit. You groan like a cavewoman. Guttural, primal.

"Made for makin' 'em come. You gonna come for me again?"

You're already trembling, unable to get your tongue working as you tighten on his fingers.

"There ya go, sugar. Cum like I'm gettin' it in. Goin' six inches deep and cummin' hard on 'er lips." Jesse pumped his fingers deep again as you began panting, panicking—he was insistent on getting you off—a knot of orgasm tightened in your waist until you snapped like a whip against your backside and seized.

"Ain't nothing wrong with cryin'."

You can't stop shaking. Crying. Tears fall off your chin, and you don't know where they came from. At this moment, you're a helpless baby—wailing and hoping he understands. You need him to fuck the soul from your body. You need him to stop.

"I've got somethin' of a confession," Mccree said, his drawl thickening with each syllable. The thumb on your clit sent his words through one ear and out the other. He's knuckle-deep in your cunt and seated near your pleasure spot as he slowly curls into it. You curl with him, hot and whining.

"I may be aurally challenged, but I can still hear you, sugar." You're drooling in every figurative sense—mentally and emotionally sloshed from the pump of his heavy fingers. "Every time you whisper my name at night." He said, his tone low and warm.

Your thighs clamp around his hand.

Fiery shame swept like lava and left coals on your chest, leaving you with prickly, uncomfortable goosebumps.

Oh, now we can't have that.

You've stopped chasing his hand, chasin' that release you'd wanted so bad.

A gentleman, Jesse puts in enough work for both of you. If you aren't meetin' him, he'll have to try that much harder, won't 'e?

God, what would your family think? They'd shun you. Getting off to thoughts of your captor's big, impossibly wide hands instead of biting them.

This needs to stop.

Oh, but you can't. You're grinding on his finger again, helpless to stop. It's so good. It's too fucking good.

"That's it. Get it, sugar." Jesse starts flying in and out of your thighs. Something coughs from your throat like a drowned victim spitting up water. You grab his wrist for stability and don't make it halfway around.

"That's what I like to fuckin' see," Jesse growled.

Fuck it. You'd let him pull your panties aside and cream your pussy right there on your bed with your family in the doorway for them to see every desperate clench it made, each spasm in the base of his cock as it emptied inside their precious daughter, sister, and loved one. They could watch the conception of their grandchild and niece/nephew for all you care.

"Jesse! Oh god. Feels good!"

"Sounds even better up close." Mccree chuckled. Breathy, strained. As if it'd come through gritted teeth. His cock pressed into your ass—hard and hot. He made no attempts to relieve it.

"You come to Uncle Jesse when your pussy needs some lovin', ya hear?"

He pulled out, leaving you so, so empty.

You quickly nodded. No, no. Please put it back! He'd stopped touching your clit.

Jesse doesn't leave you empty much longer now that he has an answer. "You let ol' Jess handle it. I'll give the lil lady what she wants."

You're too damn polite. Callin' 'im 'sir.' He ain't no 'sir.' Jesse would tell you to stop if he ain't like it so much.

He pretends to hate it, gives you grief about it, but let you come 'round askin' for somethin'. Jesse stops you mid-sentence and tells you to call 'im that thing he likes.

"Come on, honey. You'll make me feel old."

Your name might as well be 'pretty.'

"C'mere, pretty. Wanna show ya somethin' real quick."

Toji Fushiguro

It's one of those days.

Toji stood in your doorway, an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth. He had a can of beer in his left hand and a race ticket in the other. You should be happy to see him. There's no milk, and your stomach could grow teeth and devour. Your heart drops instead. The paper had as many wrinkles as a white shirt straight from the dryer. Crumpled, meaning he'd lost. The one Toji wore was stretched and spent. He hadn't come home last night. A sour odor of alcohol told you why. Toji celebrated his losing streaks with bottles of sake at the bar. Usually, he'd be out looking for a job to 'make up what he lost,' as he'd always promised.

The hunt must've been unsuccessful if he had been back so soon.

Toji was bitter before he'd even come in the door. Catching you with your fingers in your pajama pants put him over the edge.

"What ya doin' touchin' what's mine?"

Toji scoffed when you continued giving him that owlish stare.

"Y'think I'm good for nothin', dont'cha." His posture remains loose and bored, his tone detached. The slip crinkled in his balled fist.

This isn't going to end well.

"Of course no—"

"You ain't gotta lie, Seven."

Toji was more superstitious than met the eye. He set you up in his home like a Maneki-Neko for good luck and fortune, laughable.

You aren't lucky. Trouble raced after you like tin cans on an exhaust pipe, with your situation to prove it.

Trouble stepped further into your room—swept across your floor like tumbleweed, kicking the ground with every slow, drunken step. Trouble knelt on your bed, knocked your plushies off to the side, and snatched your arm when you scurried.

"Y'think I'm a deadbeat." Trouble pulled you under him and ripped your pajamas off your hurling legs. His triceps bulged beneath his tee as his hips rolled into your cunt, wet and bare. He held you still to take each stubborn, mouth-watering rut. "Think I can't take care of ya anymore."

Toji's still beating the headboard into the wall as you quake around his thighs. Frantic hands tear at his upper back, tugging his shirt for him to go harder despite the worrying cracks and splinters of wood.

"'m gon' prove you wrong." Toji put his weight on his elbows and fucked you like he meant it. He'd buck forward and knock your eyes to your skull.

'God, yes,' is all you can think as he presses you into the mattress and shoves into you until you can't get air. 'More, more, more.'

"Gonna make you cum so hard you wet yourself," he growled in your ear. "Gonna make you scream and cry." And he did.

"Oh God, Toji!"

Toji rabbits at the first sign of tears. "I'm gonna fuck you right to hell."'

"Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God, oh—uhn!"

Spleck!

Your thighs squeeze and judder into his cock. Wetness dribbles past your lips regardless of how tightly you clench your legs. You cum hard—the spasms in your cunt deep and violent. So fucking slutty and messy.

"God!" The word tore from your throat in a ragged sob. Feral. Hysterical.

There's no way you should clamp this fiercely. It's been so long Toji let you tighten up. He needed to stretch you back out. This pussy should be loose and sticky always. A constant fullness to fill the pangs and help you forget your troubles.

You wanna be fucked.

You wanna be bred.

"A little girl like you don't know what you're doin'." Toji got between your thighs and licked you from slick perineum to juicy clit.

"Says you." In your head, you're pushing his face deeper into your sex, hand in his hair as you grind on his tongue. 'Show me, baby; show me. Show me what I'm too stupid to do.'

Toji eats you alive.

His fingers brush up your bum while he tongues you into orgasm. Toji piles your juices on his fingers and licks them clean, again and again.

"Lookit how excited she gets." Toji rests on his knees. The crotch of his sweatpants is a darker shade of black and damp from your sex.

"She can't quit talkin'." Spasming, spitting, and wetting.

His cock is visible, sitting on his lower left thigh, right above his knee. A footpath of the same dark shade runs down his left pant leg.

Did he cum? Did he cum just from eating you out? Was that fat, ruddy cockhead drooling over the very hint of your sex when he'd rutted against you before?

There's something so primal about him kneeling over you, your juices on his tongue, his cock jutting out so proudly, hung like a horse between your thighs. It makes you aware of just how filthy this whole act is, how raw.

You can smell yourself on him, and your legs self-consciously close.

"Still think you know how to get this pussy to clamp as she should?" Toji's voice was low and gruff.

"No." You whimpered.

"Then why the fuck are you playing with my clit?"

"I wasn't playing with it! I was just..."

"You won't even squeeze your thighs together without askin' when I'm finished," his lips close around your clit.

Toji licks every slippery skin fold and nibbles your clit until it's throbbing. You fuck his mouth with your hips, desperate. You reach deep, guttural tones no woman should.

Would nut if you called him 'sir.'

Call him 'sir,' and he'll call you 'ma'am.' Especially in bed. It's shamelessly kinky, given the age gap between you. Might just call you mommy if you're okay with it. You're still under your parent's insurance and barely have a driver's license. Your wisdom teeth haven't come in, and here this forty-year-old man was calling you mommy.

And if you are? Agreeable with it, that is? Toji does his best to make you one.

He missed out on Megumi. Thoughts of another child hadn't crossed his mind until he was deep in your green, twenty-something pussy calling you mommy in that aged murmur.

You love everything he's saying. "Gon' fuck a baby into your teenage pussy—get you pregnant." Toji liked to poke at your age. He'd call you a teenager when you're particularly difficult. Little girls can't talk to me like that. Those nights remained the same. Toji fucked you on the floor and bred you until you couldn't speak. Cum ran from your entrance in a thin, constant stream. Milky, thick-flowing, and filthy. You just need some good lovin'; that's all it is—needed attention. You didn't know how to ask for it without pitchin' a fit like a child.

Make-up sex where he'd hold your hands as your thighs shook. Toji made up for leaving the cabinets empty by leaving your thoughts emptier. Cramming you six inches full of excess and relief, Toji filled you over and over until debt became greed. He's slow, thorough—men his age typically were. Toji was no boy. Wasn't in no hurry to finish. Thrusting between your hips, deep and thick in your cunt and inches from your face, Toji murmured, "'m gon' set it right."

You love what he's saying so much your appreciation lands on the base of his cock and lower abdomen as you squirt. "Dirty little girl. Dirty teenage pussy, begging for her senpai's cum." He burns right through your chest.

The words, "What are you going to do about it?" sit on your tongue.

"Gonna breed that pussy good. Gon' get you pregnant. Get you knocked up." Toji tugs your legs up higher, pulling you into his body as he snaps his hips. He thrusts into you, quick and hard.

Give it to me, give it to me. Put a baby in me. Oh, God, fuck me!

"Pussy'll be so sweet with my cum between those pretty, swollen lips. Might just eat it. Might have to. Might be all the sugar I need."

Muscles jump in your lower belly. Toji grinned above you, rotten, when your pussy quivered. Toji is feral when he gets his face between your legs, unlike any man you've met. The enthusiasm for your pleasure as he dug, sucked, licked, and scraped with his tongue (all while his right hand held your slippery cunt open for him to discipline and drink down) was primal and terrifying. It had you there in minutes. He had no direction, no idea, and no technique. All he had was the hell-driven desire to please you—make you come fast and hard 'many times as he could before his tongue gave out.

Every little thing you told him to do. That's all he had. You asked for more, and he gave it. You tell him to scratch that itch between your thighs, and he knows exactly what that means—squeezing his cock into your too-small ass. From there, all you did was tell him what you wanted, and he performed like a dog with a bone.

Toji wasn't above holding you down so that you took your pleasure on his face, fingers, and lips.

No, this dog took every ounce of his strength and overpowered your body to ensure he got his pound of flesh. What sorta man was he if he couldn't please his woman? An embarrassment, that's what. You ain't gonna insult him and walk away with steady legs.

"Gonna ride that pussy, make it mine."

Ride me, baby. Oh, God, yes!

Toji hunkers over you—that thick, heady scent of sweat, cologne, and body heat. He smells good. "Bet this teenage cunt loves feeling like it's mature, getting filled and stretched into a mommy's pussy." He's telling you how you'll look so good with your freshly creamed pussy.

Wanna be slutty for you. Make this pussy creamy.

"Gon' get that cervix wet. You'd better drink up, girl."

God, you'll drink every last white drop of it. You're already spasming.

"There she goes talkin'. Swallowin’. She's thirsty." Toji tilts your face towards him. "Boy or girl? Which one ya like?"

You struggle—feebly pressing his chest with jellied wrists to get him up and off of you. Out of you. You have to keep yourself from melting outward and running onto the sheets when he snatches you up in his arms as if you were nothing and hemmed you to the bed, hemmed you to his chest in a bear hug, and fucked you. He caged you beneath him and held you there. You’re held down and bred. Pre-cum drooled out of you onto the pillow like the real thing. Each thrust sent your hips violently into him, bobbing, circling, and returning to meet him as you rubbed your slick folds against his cock when it slipped out. He had you humping his wet dick like a bitch in heat. That was you on him. He's covered in you. He hugged you so hard that the bed felt like a paper bag under you.

"Ain't no running. Y'gon' take this dick. Take this apology."

"Don't! Don't—" The fight to free your arms was heavy and impossible as he lined himself up just as quickly as he'd left. Eager to fill. Eager to please. Hands trapped between your sweaty bodies, you settle for pushing against his stifling weight despite rising to help him resettle himself. And God, do you feel like home. Comforting, warm. He can already smell Ma's cooking. Slick, like the blood of his bounties. 'Specially when his bosses demanded a trophy as proof of his service.

White. All you see are the whites of his eyes as Toji's cock overfilled you to bursting, assisted by your curved spine and lofted hips.

He does it so gently—sliding into you like a Spanish kiss. Indulgent. Letting you admire the breadth of him, the ridge of cockhead that made your walls flutter and sing as it moved through you like drugs flooding a bloodstream, peddling euphoria throughout every corner of your body until you were floating and light in the giddy breeze of his possession. He looks demonic, possessed. Your cunt groaned from how full it was, glutted. Feel-good chemicals left you gooey and barely conscious as he stroked into you, exactly where you needed him and weren't ready for him. The deep grinds into your G-spot had you losing your breath, but he wouldn't stop. He wouldn't stop fucking you.

Uhhhn, God. Your eyes flutter. Your walls squeeze him against your will. You could kiss him.

"N-noooo, you can't. Don't cum in my pussy." You moaned. "Don't—hnn!—don' cum..." Your arms close around his waist, hips arching and rocking like you couldn't decide what you wanted more, to push him off of you or get creampied in one go. Bred.

"Mommy, ya gotta tell me." Your pussy clamps. Fissures of resistance disappear like they never existed when Toji calls you "mommy" like it's a sin. He's whispering dirty in your ear as if he knew your secrets. As if he knew you were two pumps and one shuddery male moan away from pleading the exact opposite.

"Tell me, Mommy, so I can do it for you." Toji's voice had gone sugary-sweet and deep.

But no...no. Nnn. No. "You… can't...do that." It's cheating. He's cheating.

"Tell me how you want this baby."

God, it just feels so good. You want him to cream you. Breed you. You like the fantasy of it all (it gets you wetter than anything), but he isn't financially stable, and you're no mother.

"We can't! Not 'nough money." Your lips don't sing lullabies. They sang heartache and blues. Emotionally immature and mentally thin, you're no mother. The slightest inconvenience, and you're ready to cannonball off a bridge.

"Ain't what I asked ya." Toji put you in a headlock. Ears hot and pounding, you twist and thrash as best you can underneath him. He doesn't leave you much room to grapple—still bearing down on you with all his strength and thrusting. 'Overwhelming' couldn't begin to capture the wave of shivers washing over you. Toji scratches that itch inside of you so good it nearly hurts. God, it's good—the beating he gives that secret, special place you can never reach alone. Where fingers clench into knots, your womb feels like a fever. You're in heaven. Your thighs burn from all that friction. You're in hell. Your body wants nothing more than to let out a primal scream as you battle to cope with the intensity. It takes you a few moments to realize you are—hollering in absolute hysteria. You unclench your fingers long enough to shove fruitlessly at his chest, claw at his arms and pelvis.

The thick arms caging your head tighten. "Answer. Or I’ll put one in your backside."

"Girl!" You shouted—voice rough and strangled behind his grip.

"A lil princess just like 'er Mama." Toji bucked into you, closing his eyes with a groan. When they opened, they stared down at your hostile mouth. If there was one body part of yours Toji was fascinated by, it was your lips.

He's been staring at them while he fucked you, lust in his eyes. Toji watched them threaten and plead.

"You get off me, or I'll—" Your words clung thickly together, dragged in places they shouldn't as if they were moaned.

"I'll..." Your lashes fall to your cheeks as Toji moves down, nose rumbling softly with steamy breath as he latches onto a nipple and sucks.

Your cunt swallowed and sang; you rose to meet his next push. The way his tongue and teeth work together on that sensitive spot is enough to make you light-headed.

"I'll..."

Toji stared at you, expression unreadable as ever. "You'll what, Mommy?"

He watched 'em gasp and form his name. He needed 'em. Needed 'em more than his own mother's rotted eyes.

"You'll cum?" He ground into you, and you gasped.

"Yes." You wrapped your arms and legs around him. God, your skin was on fire.

Toji released your breast and latched onto your mouth instead, groaning against your lips. His tongue flicked inside, and you opened wide.

"H-harder. Toji, I'm—"

Ughn!

Toji hits it like he couldn't miss—rutting, grinding, and humping into that sacred spot. Your kiss had him rabbiting and murmuring, moaning, and biting. He was gasping. He was growing—swelling at the base of his cock. He was coming apart.

Seeing you thoroughly enjoy yourself and falling apart on his cock has Toji's hips faltering. Mama's never yelled for 'im quite like that before. He had mama screamin', had 'er eyes rollin' back. Had her thrusting on his cock like she wanted her green, little pussy filled—wanted his kid.

"Sound so good, Mommy." He's coming already, eyes shut as the first few spurts escape him. Toji's thrusts deepen each time you moan. He'd shiver, pushing hard into your g-spot. He spoiled it for every hunger pain while he was away.

"Hands." His voice shook with effort—the physical strain of staving himself off.

When you don't immediately respond, Toji's head rests on your shoulder—miserable like an old dog. "y'know I can't cum without 'em. Know I need 'em."

His breaths come in rough pants. "I'm gonna cum, Mommy. Imma go right up your pussy and spill my seed."

"Toji—" You squirm, "Toji, don't!" You'd damn near drooled as the first squirt of hot cum hit your pussy, unconsciously bucking into him for the umpteenth time.

You beg Toji not to cum inside you, hugging him and pumping those hips all the while. Desperately, at that. A man's gotta wonder.

"Let me apologize, mama," he said between labored breaths. "Let me give you this baby." His fingers pry into yours, clutching them against the mattress as he rutted and sighed into you. "Let me."

"No." You fight. "No, no, no, no, no! No. Don't!"

His thrusts pick up as you try and wrangle free.

"I forgive you, Toji! I forgive—"

Toji licked into your mouth, grabbed onto your hips, and emptied himself in a long, thick stream. He shivered in your arms through spurts and convulsions, letting you swallow his shuddered alphabet of husky groans.

You can't help but buck into each warm shot of his seed. You're a whore. And you're tired of pretending you're not.

You're still moaning for him not to cum inside you as he does just that, pushed up against your G-spot, gently grinding you toward an orgasm of your own.

He could've positioned himself at your cervix and got all nice and snug, but then he would've missed the sleepy look on your face. Eyelids hung low, mouth parted—sated, full, and still working that pussy against him, swallowing miserably around him because it hasn't cum. She will. He'll show ya he ain't useless, that he's good for somethin'.

Besides, they'll swim. He doesn't need to be lined up to hit a target. It'll be fine once you're shiverin' against him; you'll send 'em right where they need to be.

"Please don't, sir." You said, still thrusting through the zips and tapering shocks of your orgasm. Your arms are helpless, bumbling, and unresponsive.

'Sirs' nice and all, but he'd prefer 'Mister.'

Author’s Note: This was Valentine's gift for myself and I decided to share it. If this performs well, I'll finish the second installment. The next part will feature Erasermic, Bob Velseb, Daddy Dearest, Mommy Mearest, and a fourth character I haven't decided on.

Tips: Please consider tipping if you're well-fed. It would incentivize me to keep sharing. https://ko-fi.com/pumpknpie

©️pumpkin-pi-e | Do not copy, edit, paraphrase, plagiarize, translate, or borrow from my work. I do not give my consent for any of my works to be reposted. I only write on Tumblr. Should you find this anywhere else, please alert me because it was stolen.

For your listening pleasure:

The title was based on the song below.

Do Not Interact - Writers and blogs who actively write white-coded reader inserts (blush, turn red, a flush of color). I can’t eat at your table, and I don’t want you at mine. You will be blocked. Blank blogs will also be blocked.

[lethxia]

(stumbles through the doorway with a fucked up unhinged look in my eyes, at least two bones broken and blood in my hair) soooooo. mutually pining yandere erasermic, huh? what a wild. wild concept. haha. hahdhshsjjs,

[yanderenightmare]

TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon, size-difference, captive darling, punishment, deepthroating, bondage

gn reader

Thinking about strict daddy dom yandere and how much he hates curse words.

Or… how much he hates curse words when they’re in your mouth.

Says it makes you filthy. Says he’s gotta teach that bratty mouth a lesson.

With your wrists bound up nice and snugly behind your back, he’ll fix a ring-gag around your head – make that mouth gape wide for him, letting drool spill freely down the corners of your lips where they're kept puckered and parted – wet and bloated as he slides his meaty cock between them – making you kiss along his veins until it’s swollen up nice and fat enough to stand on its own. Your face is slapped a bit with the hefty weight, slicking himself in the pretty tears running down your cheeks.

He says he’s gonna fuck all those filthy words out of your mouth. Says your throat’s gonna learn its purpose.

But he starts off gentle – fucking his big bulging cockhead into the soft pocket of your cheek – stretching it out and making more spit froth down your chin – spilling onto your pretty nipples that perk in the cold open air.

He keeps you completely naked when he’s punishing you. Adds to the power-play, you suppose. Where he’s still dressed in his nice suit. Except for his belt – no, he keeps that looped tight around your throat – using it like a leash as he tugs on it to keep you pliant – kneeling on the floor by his feet while he fucks your face.

Your cheek’s sore after a good while, but you’d rather he kept at it instead of what you know’s coming next – after he says it’s time to pick up the pace, when he tells you to take a deep breath before he’s sliding himself over the soft bed of your tongue until the tip hits the back of your throat – though, never letting it stop him for long before he’s pressing on and slowly but surely sending the entire length down your tight guzzle – all the way until your button nose is buried in the pubic hairs on his pelvis – taking him to the hilt with your wet lips stuck around his base and his big balls nuzzling the slick on your chin.

He praises you while keeping himself lodged deep – holding your throat to feel it bob for him as you gag around his thickness. Telling you this is exactly what your sweet throat was made for – not for yelling ugly curse words – but for sucking his cock free of cum.

You’re lightheaded when he starts to rock his hips back and forth against your face – only giving languid thrusts, never enough to ever leave the tight choke of your throat – never enough to allow you a proper breath of air. He’ll just chuckle at your dumb expression – endeared by the way your pretty eyes roll into the back of your head – telling you how happy he is when you’re his sweet baby doll.

He creams your throat after a while – humming a satisfied sigh as you swallow the load before it drowns you. Slinking out of your sticky mouth with a lazy smile on his face – looking down at you with such a patronizing leer as strokes his still hard cock up and down your sweet face – looking all dewy and cute for him – eyes misty and half-masted – mouth still gaping wide from the ring-gag keeping it open, your tongue lolling over it as you pant out like a little bitch in heat – just begging him for more.

Don’t worry, he’ll say. He’s not done with your mouth until he knows he’s washed out every last filthy word – one thorough throatpie at a time.

BNHA – Enji, Aizawa, Deku, Kirishima, Bakugou, Iida, Overhaul

JJK - Nanami, Toji, Geto, Naoya

ATSV - Miguel

DS – Muzan

HxH – Chrollo, Illumi, Leorio

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Shouta Aizawa NSFW Profile

Yandere! Shouta Aizawa x fem! reader

Tw: mentions of dub-con, masturbation, stalking, kidnapping, voyeurism, toys, clothed sex, hair-pulling, this one is actually kind of soft and feels less yandere-y to me so sorry that this one is a little less creepy than normal, Shouta is a pleaser and lives for your praise, he gets off with a blanket you gifted him, very mild somnophilia, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 12K

HABITS

In general, Shouta isn’t that perpetually horny. He’s a busy man with constant stress weighing on his shoulders; working as a pro while being a full-time teacher leaves him drained during the few times he gets to relax, and it’s a lot of work to get himself hard, to get off, and to clean up afterwards.

It’s just not worth it to him – especially because it’s a bit sad to be left with just his fist and some low-grade, unrealistic porn as a man in his thirties, isn’t it?

He doesn’t have a partner, and hasn’t had one for quite some time – there was a girl a decade or so ago, but she didn’t last long, and the sex was subpar at best. And so, Shouta finds himself neglecting any sort of sexual activity most nights that he’s off work, not bothering to get himself all worked up and fuck away some of that pent up stress.

Except, then you show up.

His feelings for you form, and although it takes a long time for them to solidify, it takes an even longer time for them to turn lewd, any sort of sexual thought involving you not really taking root into he’s much further into his obsession.

This is for a few reasons – firstly, he just doesn’t have that high of a libido, and while seeing you naked when he’s watching from outside your window certainly gets him hot and bothered, he isn’t constantly fantasizing about bending you over and fucking you until you’re screaming his name.

(Not never, just not constantly – and at inopportune moments, sometimes. Moments where he really should be focused on the mountains of paperwork on his desk, not focused on how the desk is the perfect height for you to be standing on your tiptoes, ass poised out and your chest pressed against the hard wooden lacquer, your soft skin glistening in the dim light and your pretty thighs twitching and quivering as his fingers press deeper and deeper and deeper -)

Secondly, Shouta’s already feeling such crippling guilt regarding his infatuation with you that adding on overt sexual fantasies for you would push him too far. He already hates that he thinks of you constantly, that he’s always idly worrying about your safety, wanting to know your location and who you’re with and what you’re doing.

He already dislikes that he can’t stop himself from swinging by your apartment at the end of his patrols, making sure that you’re in your bed asleep, safe and sound and looking so fucking pretty in the moonlight. He doesn’t like how wrapped around your finger you have him, so how could he justify wringing himself dry to you, depraved fantasies running through his mind as he imagines the way you’d cream on his fingers, how you’d clench down on him so, so tightly when he fucks you just right?

Shouta can’t – it would breach too many protocols of trust, the friendship formed between the two of you precarious enough as it is with Shouta’s obsessive, disturbing feelings. He doesn’t think of you sexually, banishing every thought from his mind the moment it appears.

Or, at least, that’s what he wishes could be true – unfortunately, his hormones get the better of him sometimes, leaving him rolling around in his bed, cock painfully hard and his mind insistently flashing images of you changing behind his eyelids.

He’s embarrassed, more than anything, that he doesn’t have enough self control to successfully halt any lewd thoughts of you – it’s pathetic, really, because is he so desperate to touch you that he literally can’t stop himself?

Is he really so painfully, pitifully aroused by you that just the mere idea of you licking your lips or smiling at him can get him breathing hard, thankful for the bagginess of his pants?

He hates that the answer is yes, that his body is really that pent up and eager to get you under him, naked and soft and pretty, all for him and only him. It’s demoralizing, but Shouta only has so much restraint – he tries to hold out for as long as he can, really. He swears.

It’s torture at first, popping melatonin and chugging Nyquil, hoping he’ll be able to pass out and sleep off the horniness, but it never quite works. Instead, his dreams are full of you – on your knees, sucking him off so well that your cheeks are literally hollowing, drool spilling down your chin, a string of saliva and precum connecting your puffy lips to his swollen tip when you pull off for air.

He’ll dream of you on your hands and knees, peeking back at him with glassy eyes and biting your lip, clearly embarrassed as you ask him to touch me, please Shouta, I need you…

He always wakes up with soiled sheets, his entire pelvis sticky with now cold cum, and it becomes very, very difficult to look you in the eye that day, only able to conjure up the image of you all tied up in his scarf, your breasts perfectly framed and your thighs spread, slick covering them as you whine his name, desperate for him.

And though he tries to stave off, not letting himself actively fantasize about you sexually while he’s conscious, a particularly rough day of teaching and patrol have him giving up, throwing caution to the wind as he decides that he needs this, that a release is the only way he’ll be able to stay sane.

In the past, the few times he’s masturbated he’s always just fucked his fist, not needing anything too fancy. But for you, something about that feels disrespectful – it’s stupid and he knows it, but the idea of just thrusting into his hand over and over until he eventually spills all over his knuckles seems tacky, low-class, almost offensive to your image, like he’s tarnishing you and the way he idolizes you.

So, he relies on the next best thing he can scrounge up – you’d given him a blanket a few months ago, a birthday present that he’d tried desperately to cover his blush at receiving.

(Hizashi had pitched in, helping you decide which color and texture, having an expert’s opinion so that it would be perfect for the dark-haired man – a level of detail and attention to his desires that still, to this day, makes his heart flutter to think about. You cared, wanting him to be happy, and just that thought leaves his chest swelling with pride, his palms getting a bit clammy and his cheeks feeling too hot.)

He’s kept the blanket on his bed, using it every single night for the limited sleep he manages to get, making sure the material is always, always touching his body. It’s the only way he really feels close to you – the blanket was for him, sure, but you’d touched it, picked it out, held it in your arms while Shouta was dumbly gaping at you and struggling to utter out a strained thank you.

(If he tries hard enough, he thinks he can even smell you on the fabric – it’s not as good as if you were actually here with him, laying in his arms, touching him, but if he strains enough and pretends hard enough, there’s the faintest whiff of you.)

He’s gulping, throwing his uniform off and leaving it crumped up in the corner, before gently, daintily grabbing the edges of the neatly folded blanket (a stark contrast to the harsh pulling and tugging at his costume he’d thrown off moments earlier) and laying it out on the bed.

He lets out a shaky breath, gulping, before tying his hair back into a messy, low ponytail, excitement flitting through him because he’s really about to do it. He’s really about to touch himself to the thought of you, allowing himself to fully indulge in the fantasy that is you, the fantasy that is imagining the way you’d feel against his body, your lips against his own, your hands in his hair and your thighs around his waist.

He’s moving slow as he settles onto his knees on the bed, staring down at the blanket with furrowed brows. This isn’t quite right – the image of you laying before him, body nude and your legs clenched together in anticipation feels very, very right, but there’s something missing.

A thumb comes down to idly rub at the blanket, tracing small circles against the material as he wracks his brain. What’s missing? How can he make this feel like you, like it’s your body he’s touching, like it’s your perfect little cunt he’s fucking?

He’s not sure, but suddenly it hits him – your body, just as he’d been dreaming about.

The blanket doesn’t look enough like you – it’s two dimensional, flat and having no surface area to grip onto, nothing for him to fondle and touch and squeeze.

It needs to have more of your shape – quickly, methodically, he’s reaching down, grabbing handfuls of the blanket and bunching it up, forming a shape that vaguely resembles your torso. He’s careful to get the exact shape of your waist and hips, making sure to leave mounds of crumpled blanket to represent your breasts, even creating a little space between your thighs that represents something soft, something warm and wet and tight – your precious little pussy, something Shouta would literally kill to feel.

He gulps as he looks down at his work, the atmosphere suddenly seeming much thicker, heavier, hotter, because now, the solid colored blanket seems like you, at least having your body shape and your vague proportions. Aizawa lets his hand run down what would be your side, pausing right over your pretend hip.

Fuck, he mutters under his breath, before shifting forward slightly, letting his weight rest on his knees and one hand as he carefully guides his cock to the space between your crafted thighs.

He’d been careful to leave a fold in the fabric, a pouch of sorts – a place for him to push into, slowly spreading the two layers, trying to mimic the way your pretty lips would part for him, your walls sucking him and clenching him nice and tight, wanting to keep him inside and never let him pull out.

Shouta curses as he rubs his tip against the fabric, noting with a small, far-away sense of disdain that there’s precum smearing all along the fabric, certainly leaving a stain that he’ll have to scrub out later. His thumb comes up to gently swipe along where he imagines your cheek to be, even feeling phantom sensations of warmth, of softness, just as you’d be.

He leans down slowly, throat bobbing, before letting his eyes flutter closed, his lips pressing against the blanket – right where he imagines your own to be. The kiss is soft, gentle, heartfelt, his tongue flicking out to lick against the blanket material, groaning and wishing it was your own tongue meeting his, your own spit coating his lips.

As he gets closer, body inching further down until his chest pressed up against what’s supposed to be your breasts, he shuffles his hips forward, pushing past the fabric fold and into you. He groans, pulling back from the kiss to rest his forehead against where he imagines yours to be, letting his eyes shut tight, nearly squeezing them closed as he slowly rocks his hips.

The friction of the blanket feels a bit strange, not how you’d feel, but it’s better than nothing – and it’s so, so very easy to imagine you instead; your warm, slick walls, the way you’d squeeze at him when he brushes up against your spot, the way your legs would wrap around his hips, hooking your ankles and pulling him in closer, begging him to go deeper. He sighs out, biting his lip and furrowing his brow, the pleasure slowly beginning to mount.

He imagines the way you’d moan his name – he bets you’d be airy, a soft sound that gets his hips stuttering ever so slightly because he knows the way his name would sound spilling from your lips would be heaven, the sultry Shouta upturned at the end as he fucks into you just the slightest bit faster.

His hips pick up their pace at the thought of you crying his name, back muscles flexing as he slowly gets faster and faster, the slow, sweet, intimate pace he’d set blown to dust in the wake of his thighs propelling him forward, hips flying and smacking into the blanket so quickly and harshly that the mattress is shaking, bedframe slightly pounding against the wall.

Shouta groans, low and deep, imagining the way you’d beg him to go faster Shouta please, please please please you feel s’good, wanna come for you! Memories of seeing you touch yourself flash behind his closed eyes, seeing the way your face screwed up in pleasure, how you gripped at your pillows and bucked your hips and trembled and arched your back and gasped and came –

Shouta’s chanting your name, his hips sinking into the fold of the blanket over and over, and quickly he’s bringing a thumb down to rub frantic, uneven circles where he imagines your clit to be, desperate to get you coming, wanting to time your orgasm with his.

Fuck, come for me baby, give it to me, god you’re s’damn tight fuuuck - !

His eyes fly open as spurts of warm, milky cum spray from his tip, getting all over the blanket and making his hips stutter and jerk, the sensation of coming in something leaving his arms feeling weak.

He’s panting, still saying your name under his breath, dark hair falling around his face as his thighs flex and clench, the last bits of cum dribbling from his tip and leaving him feeling spent. He can’t help but imagine the way you’d take him, if you’d thank him for giving him everything he has to offer, if you’d hold onto him until you both caught your breath, if your walls would still flutter and clench sporadically even after you’d come down from your high.

He closes his eyes again, heart practically in his throat as he leans down once more to kiss the blanket, tongue sneaking out and wet noises filling the room as spit and drool get slobbered all over the fabric.

He’s still out of breath, panting when he pulls back, but it’s not until he leans back onto his knees and takes a good look at the blanket that his high begins to fade, the reminder that you’re not really there making a sharp feeling dig into his gut.

He stares for a moment, before sighing, slowly pulling out of the blanket and grimacing when he feels cooling cum sliding across his cock, the white mess all over the material and smeared across his skin.

He brings a hand to his forehead, covering his eyes and sighing. What was he doing?

He’d just fucked a blanket – a gift, from you no less – while pretending it was you, his desperation to get you naked and in his grasp strong enough to make him lose him mind.

Pathetic, he was truly pathetic.

He’s ashamed as he throws the blanket into the laundry, hoping the cum stains will come out with all the bleach he’d thrown in alongside it, and as he chugs his coffee, deciding to get to school early and try to collect himself, Shouta can only sigh.

You make him such a fucking fool – a freak, perverted and creepy and gross, and as soon as he catches sight of you in the staff loungeroom, looking all pretty in your simple blouse and slacks, he knows he’s a lost cause, every bit of self-respect falling by the wayside.

 Because as soon as he looks at you, all he can think of is how you’d look underneath him, stuffed full of his cum and a dazed, fucked-out expression scrawled across your face. All he can think of is how you’d be absolutely perfect to sink his cock into – and as he darts off to the nearest restroom, desperately trying to get rid of the insistent, raging erection in his pants, he can only sigh, letting his head hang.

He really is a fucking creep.

FAVORITE BODY PARTS

Your thighs

Shouta isn’t one to sexualize women’s bodies. He’s a man with urges, sure, but he’s never had trouble separating sexual attraction from respect for his female friends, even for strangers in the streets. A body is a body, and they aren’t made to be stared at and ogled.

Except where you’re concerned, of course, because while Shouta tries his hardest to not sexualize every thought of you, it’s difficult to hold himself back when he’s so utterly attracted to every single part of you.

It’s hard to not fixate and stare and want when he looks at you, and so while he gives a valiant effort to not obsess over your figure in a less than innocent way, eventually he can’t help himself.

And Shouta discovers that while he loves every inch of you, there’s something about your thighs that drive him absolutely fucking crazy.

Maybe it’s their shape – pretty expanses of your skin that look perfect to grope and squeeze, the soft curves making him salivate in a way that feels almost predatory.

Maybe it’s the way they feel – your skin is so soft, especially if he moves his hands further up, between them, nearing somewhere warm and wet and throbbing.

Maybe it’s the way they feel when they’re around his waist, caging him in and keeping him right where he wants to be, and when they’re around his head?

(Don’t mention the instances where he’s orgasmed just from simply eating you out – it’s embarrassing, and while he won’t deny it, he will change the conversation and pray you don’t see the soft, barely-there pink blooming on his cheeks.)

Maybe it’s even the way you respond when he touches them – how you jump a little bit, his calloused hands feeling a bit cold as they skim along the sides, thumbs pressing into your inner thighs, a comforting finger brushing along the juncture of your legs and pelvic bone.

He’s not entirely sure, but one thing he does know is that just seeing your bare thighs is enough to get him gulping, his dark gaze struggling to move away as he watches the area jiggle and flex while you walk, every step you take only making him want you more and more.

Even before he’s stolen you away, he’s fantasizing about your thighs – he’s bought more pairs of stockings and thigh-highs than he’d care to admit, keeping them neatly organized in a specific drawer in his closet, often fingering the material and biting his lip.

(The image of you wearing them makes him drool, the idea of the top hem squeezing your thigh and making a little bulge appear right above the socks getting his hand wandering down his torso, his fingers making quick word of his belt buckle because fuuuck, would you keep them on while he throws your legs over his shoulders and absolutely destroys you?)

He’s always taking extra time and care to properly worship them when he’s got his head between your legs, letting his lips and tongue trail all along the soft skin, leaving teasing bite marks and hickeys and feeling the way you tremble under his touch because he’s so close yet so far from where you need him.

He’s always got a hand on your thighs when he’s fucking you, his fingers clutching and digging into the skin while he shuts his eyes tight and wills himself to last longer, to prolong the moment, to give you more more more, just like you deserve.

He just really, really likes your thighs, so don’t be surprised when he’s got his hand casually placed on one when you’re watching a movie together, his gaze purposefully not looking at you because you can’t see how flustered he is from touching your clothed thigh in a non-sexual context.

You can’t.

His hands

In general, Shouta lives to please you in bed. He’s by no means submissive (though he could be persuaded if you really, really wanted to be in charge for a night), but he’s a caring partner in every possible sense of the word – sex is about you, and any pleasure he gets from it is just a fun bonus.

And because of this, he takes every opportunity to learn new ways to please you, trying everything from teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue, buying a collection of vibrators, even letting you grind against the expanse of his thigh.

But his favorite method by far is using his fingers on you. They’re thick, with scars and callouses dotting the rough skin, but they’re so gentle with you, always touching you like you’re something fragile and delicate and breakable. He's careful with you when he’s rubbing circles over your clit, the pressure consistent enough to feel good but not too hard, sometimes even teasing you. He’s gentle when he’s running his fingertips over your folds, occasionally dipping in just a hair to feel the warm wetness he wants so very badly to sink into.

(He often sucks in a short, nearly inaudible gasp when he does this, his Adam’s apple bobbing because god you’re wet, and he’ll pull back to lick off his fingers, letting his eyes flutter closed as he tastes you.)

He particularly enjoys fingering you – he’s dexterous, and he always goes slow and purposefully, learning quickly exactly where you like to be touched. He’ll angle the pads of his fingers against that spot inside of you that makes your toes curl, his lip caught between his teeth as he watches your face twist up, hearing your pretty sighs and moans, feeling the way you clench around him, your hips twitching a bit as if to get him deeper, to get more of him. He keeps his pace sensual, the come-hither motion slow and controlled, all the while keeping his thumb pressed firmly against your clit, drawing shapes that stay just consistent enough to get you closer and closer.

All the while, the other hand is gently working at your clit, his fingers expertly getting the exact pressure and pattern you like, making your thighs twitch and your little gasps and mewls louder and more insistent.

And when he’s not actively working between your legs, Shouta’s always got his fingers pleasuring you in other ways – gently kneading at your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples between a thumb and index finger, groping and squeezing at you like a man starved as his tongue flicks and sucks at your clit.

They’re grasping a handful of your thigh and squeezing reassuringly as he’s fucking you, his pace slow and deep, making sure you feel every possible inch of him as he folds you in half.

He’s even slipping a thumb against your tongue when you take a break to breath, your chest heaving and your fingers wrapped around his girth, a groan slipping from his lips because god, the sight of his precum dribbling down your chin is enough to get his cock twitching on its own. He’ll press down on your tongue, his lip caught between his teeth as you stare up at him, the sight indescribably erotic, a few praises falling from his mouth about how good you look, how pretty you are, how well you take care of him.

(All the while, he’s feeling you suck on his thumb, eagerly running your tongue along the skin and even swallowing around it to give the extra suction. Shouta curses under his breath, and suddenly stands, grabbing you by the hips and forcing you to bend over the chair he’d previously been sitting on, roughly spreading your legs and immediately diving in to lick and suck against your clit, a finger slipping inside of you because he just can’t not touch you after watching you drool all over him.)

He just likes to make you feel good, and while he enjoys pleasuring you with his mouth, nothing can beat the way you moan and shake when he’s working his fingers on you, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you until you’re incoherent, your poor body trembling, the only thing you can think of him him him.

DRIVE

Though you inspire more sexual desire and drive within him than he’s experienced for the last twenty years, Shouta is still not absolutely desperate to fuck you at all times.

Sure, the idea is nice – being intimate with you is something he craves, but nine times out of ten this intimacy takes the form of simply holding you. Sitting beside you with your head resting on his shoulder, a blanket covering the both of your bodies as you snore softly and cling to him in your sleep, showing that you feel safe with him, that you trust him to protect you.

(Shouta is normally able to keep his staring in check and not be too terribly overt with it, but in times like these he allows himself to openly gape at you, those dark eyes of his examining every detail of your face. Every small wrinkle, every hair and mole, even every lash and baby hair that frames your cheeks. You’re just too damn pretty, and like this he can commit every last detail to memory – as if he hadn’t already, as if he doesn’t sleep at night with your face dancing through his dreams, as if he sees flashes of you in everything he does. As if he isn’t thinking of you as unconsciously as he breaths.)

He generally imagines sleeping with you (and genuinely just sleeping – curling up with you in his arms and his face buried next to your neck, the scent of your body and shampoo filling his senses and making him breathe out something that walks the fine line between a sigh and a moan), the peacefulness and tranquility of just having you close to him in the safety of his protection and home.

It’s a type of intimacy that gets Shouta red in the face, the idea so domestic and taboo and foreign that he comes to crave this on a near constant basis, serving as motivation and a way to calm himself when his students are out of control or a villain is being particularly difficult.

But of course, Shouta is only a man, and men have needs – no matter how he tries to keep his obsession with you as innocent as it possibly can be, sexual thoughts trickle in through the cracks of his mental fortitude and leave him with a phantom wonder of how you’d taste – would you be sweet, like the jellies Hizashi had gotten him? Would you be rich and savory? He hopes you’d have a strong musk to you, a smell that he can breathe in and think of you, something that gets his salivating and his body growing hot and his fingers restless and his breath heavy and labored and god –

He’s hard before he knows it, immediately covering his face with his hands because it’s equal parts embarrassing and terrifying how easily you manage to affect him, just the simple thought of you getting his entire body on edge.

And so he eventually takes up masturbation with you in mind, feeling dirty and disgusting each time he recovers from his orgasmic high, making it more and more difficult to look you in the eye without thinking of all the depraved things he’d imagined doing with you mere hours before.

But Shouta thinks he can survive – sure, he wants to fuck you, needs to kiss you, has to see the face you make when you’re coming, but he can control himself. He won’t succumb to the urge to break into your (frustratingly poorly protected) apartment to run his fingers along your pretty skin and fuck his fist mere inches from your face, no matter how badly his body yells and begs him to. He won’t cross this boundary – it’s hypocritical to think of himself not as a pervert at this point, but it’s the only way he confidently resists you.

Except, then you go and force him into kidnapping you – and now you’re with him nearly all moments of the day, your scent in his bedroom (though he knows you never willingly enter there, and he doesn’t force you to), your body always just a heartbeat away, the idea of holding you and kissing much, much closer now.

And even with the constant temptation, Shouta manages to hold out – it’s torture, really, forcing himself to be a good man and giving you privacy, to not touch you, to not press himself against you and feel the contours of your body against his own, but it’s worth it to him. He can’t force anything – he doesn’t want to scare you, and he has this horrible, sneaking suspicion that if he propositioned you, you’d feel too afraid to say no.

And just the thought is enough motivation to keep him from touching you, to keep him celibate from you purely by his choice – even if it starts affecting him physically.

(He’d never, ever admit it to you, but his lust for you becomes so extreme that if he’s gone more than a week or so without having touched himself to the thought of you while you’re under his care, his cock starts physically hurting when he sees you, his hips involuntarily twitching when he hears your voice, his throat feeling dry and his cheeks blooming bright red because god, he’s never wanted to fuck something so bad.)

And so, Shouta forces himself to be an outstanding man – but no one can be alert every moment of every day, and it’s only a matter of time before you catch him in a moment of weakness. Because really, while Shouta was suffering, you were certainly undergoing a struggle of your own – you’ve been stuck with him for a few months at this point, trapped in his modest apartment with everything you could ever need with one glaring, important exception: human touch.

You don’t necessarily want to be physical with your kidnapper, but as the days pass and you slowly come to accept the fact that you won’t be escaping Eraserhead, things start changing. You’re still understandably frightened of him, worried that although he’s not harmed you in any way and hasn’t forced you into much aside from your captivity, he’ll show his true colors and make your life even more of a living hell.

But that doesn’t happen, Shouta staying that familiar presence you’ve become accustomed to; steady, quiet, consistent. Except the more days that pass, the more you start noticing other things about him – he’s strong, isn’t he? You see it when he walks from the bathroom to his bedroom with the towel tightly fastened at his waist, showing off the lean muscle of his arms and torso.

(He can feel your eyes sometimes, but tries not to dwell on what your staring at his naked chest could mean because getting his hopes up means getting them inevitably crushed.)

He’s awfully attentive, isn’t he? He listens when you speak, those dark eyes boring into you and your every wish – aside from escape – granted without so much as a complaint.

And sometimes, he’s a little attractive, isn’t he? In a rugged, man-ish way – a way that makes you gulp and press your thighs together a bit, because something about the stubble that coats his chin and the veins that litter his hands and forearms makes it difficult to breath correctly.

And then the daydreams start – little thoughts about how it would feel for those hands to touch you, for those lips to brush against your own, for his hair to tickle your neck as he hovers over you, his hips moving slowly and rhythmically against you, gruff grunts of your name filling the air between you.

They scare you at first, really, but soon you can’t stop yourself – you know it’s the lack of human contact that’s influencing you, but as time passes and you grow more desperate to know if he’s as attentive in bed as he is everywhere else, you’ll stop caring.

And Shouta can sense that something’s changing – he feels you watching him, notices the way your eyes follow him through a room, how you suck in the sharpest, smallest breath when he nears you, how you grow stiff when he has to flex a muscle in front of you to lift something heavy. Shouta knows that something is different – but it’s not until you grow brave one day that everything is confirmed.

It’d been a long, tiresome day for Shouta – his class had been especially rowdy today, with a simulation villain attack that the teachers participated in, and of course he’d ended up assigned to spar with Todoroki – meaning he’d been moving about, his muscles tired and sore from multiple hours of repetitive fighting. Then he’d had an extra patrol directly after, the villains particularly restless and causing more trouble than normal. Coupled with a nasty rainstorm that had him half freezing to death, Shouta wanted nothing more than to melt into bed, ideally with you beside him but knowing better than to wish for foolish things.

And when he’d stepped in the front door, you’d been waiting for him, sitting nervously on the couch. You’d stood up, but Shouta – despite feeling slightly more awake and alive at the sight of you, like normal – was still exhausted, already on the brink of unconsciousness as he gruffly greeted you. You looked nervous, twiddling your thumbs and biting your lip, but Shouta was too tired to properly ask about it, only mentally noting to check on you tomorrow.

Slumping towards his bedroom, he was abruptly stopped with you grabbed his hand, his entire body going rigid. Your voice was quiet when you asked him why he always seems to avoid touching you, asking if he didn’t want to, if he was repulsed by the idea of touching, if he was repulsed by you.

And Shouta, still half delirious with exhaustion, let the truth slip from his lips before he could help himself – explaining just how badly he craves to feel you, imagining you in every lewd position he can think of, noticing the way your pajama shirts sometimes grow tight when you sleep and roll over, exposing the outline of your breast and nipple and making him physically stop in his tracks and nearly drool like some horny teenager.

Every secret was spilling out of him, his voice still tired and coarse but making your jaw drop, the admission that he’s been fantasizing about making you a mess on his fingers and tongue and cock stunning you. You’d known Shouta harbored some sort of feelings for you, but this?

When he finishes detailing the fact that he regularly fucks his fist to the thought of you at least twice a week after you’ve fallen asleep, you release his hand, immediately missing the warmth of his skin.

Shouta rubs at his eyes, still not facing you, but muttering a small goodnight and retreating to his room, only realizing what’s happened the next morning. His hands shake and he bolts from his bed, his eyes wide and his heart racing, something horrible and feeling like shame and dread sitting in his chest because why the fuck had he told you that?

Facing you the next day has anxiety sitting in his every nerve, his actions jerky and on-edge, an he’d nearly bolted back to the safety of his room when he sawy you sitting at the kitchen table, but then you’d done something unexpected – you’d walked up to him, stood in silence for a moment, then grabbed his hand. Shouta had been confused, unable to ignore the way your hand fit into his own and the softness of your skin against his, but you’d not given him a chance to even ask questions – soon your lips were on his, and your hand had placed his on something warm and soft and squishy –

Shouta gasped against your lips, the feeling of your breast in his hand and your tongue swiping at his lips nearly making his knees buckle. He didn’t respond to your kiss for a few moments, forcing you to pull back and stare at him, something like worry and rejection reflected in your eyes, but it’s not until you whisper in a very small voice that he snaps out of his stupor.

I want you Shouta, and I know you want me.

You were in his bed moments later, his hands frantic and eager and shaking as he practically ripped off your borrowed pajamas, fingers moving fast and settling over every part of your body, seemingly unable to decide on where to stay.

It was rushed, desperation clouding both of your senses, but as Shouta threw your leg over his shoulder and pressed wet kisses against the juncture of your shoulder and neck, his whispered affirmations of his love for you only had you pulling him closer, adoration and shock and something so happy it nearly hurt filling his chest.

Perhaps, just perhaps, something in you loved him as he loved you.  

MAIN THREE KINKS

Clothed Sex

It’s about convenience for Shouta – he’s not lazy in the bedroom, but although he finds you irresistible and is normally willing to expend what very little energy he has on sex with you, he’s willing to take any shortcut he can.

Of course, sex with you in an ideal world sees the both of you completely nude, your bodies pressed as close together as physically possible so that not a breath of space lays between them. He likes being close to you, feeling every inch of you, the intimacy of it unmatched and making Shouta revel in the fact that you’re really there with him, that he’s really getting to touch you, that he’s really getting to kiss you and touch you and fuck you, just as he’s been fantasizing of for months.

But that said, there’s a strange allure to clothed sex – it’s taboo and a little dirty, something that makes him feel a little warm, his palms growing a bit sweaty because it could happen at any time. Whenever the mood strikes him or strikes you, he could simply unzip his pants, shuffle them down a bit and fish out his cock, and he'd be ready to go – already half-hard, the eager anticipation of your touch exciting him from nearly the moment you entered the room.

And it’s easy access to you, too – not that he’d ever take advantage of that fact, your consent still something he asks for every time he touches you. It’s easy to slip your panties to the side, sinking you down onto his lap as he groans and his head lolls back, the feeling of your warmth making his toes curl. He just likes how easy it all is – no time is wasted with struggling to get off your shirt or his pants, and the desperation to be inside you that always seems to overwhelm him at the most inconvenient of times can be attended to that much faster.

He just thinks there’s something so hot about it – he’ll specifically stock you with clothing to wear that makes this easy – flouncy skirts and shorts that make shoving everything to the side and bunching his fist into the cloth to get better leverage while he pounds into you.

He’ll get you tank tops and things that make fishing your breasts out of your top easy, so that they can freely hang and jiggle as he bounces you up and down on his lap, your nipples hardening and shivers racing down your spine as he flicks his tongue at one.

He’ll buy underwear that doesn’t chafe when he shoves it to the side, the pretty sight of lace against your skin making him feral, making him fuck into you harder and more frantically because you almost look like some sort of lewd present when you’re wearing that lingerie – like his very own present, the one thing in the world he wants more than anything else.

And he’ll wear clothing that makes this easy, too – pants that can be unzipped and boxers he can tuck underneath his balls, making sure that nothing gets in the way. And although having sex without clothes is much more common than with clothes, Shouta will surprise you and suddenly press up behind you in the kitchen, telling you that you look too good, that he can’t help himself, that he needs you, and has to fuck you right here, right now, I can’t wait.

And so when you nod, he’ll flip up that skirt of yours – the main culprit for the throbbing between his legs, of course, because the clear view of your legs and thighs makes his mouth water – and slip aside those panties, his cock already out and hard and dripping for you.

It’s spontaneous, more than anything, and it’s one of the only ways in which Shouta is a little carefree with sex – one of the only times that he isn’t serious, or at least as serious.

The main way Shouta likes to engage in clothed sex, though, is through cockwarming. He just likes being close to you – he’s touch-starved, and although he doesn’t have the energy to actually fuck you, he still wants to be inside you, to have your body against his, to have you near and be smelling your scent and hearing your voice.

And so, it’s not a rare occurrence to have him pull you into his arms on his modest leather couch, your frumpy sweatpants and t-shirt (both his, of course, a fact that isn’t lost on him – he will not be washing either of those items when they eventually are off your body) covering your form and his own loungewear covering his.

He’ll shuffle up behind you, pulling you against him so that he’s spooning you, and before long you’ll feel something poking at your ass – something hard and insistent, something that seems to be bobbing and moving every few moments.

Truthfully, Shouta couldn’t say what got him hard – perhaps it was just being with you, or maybe smelling you, or the sight of you in his clothes. It could be any number of things – but his breath hitches as you swallow and carefully tug down the hem of your sweatpants, pressing your exposed ass back against him.

He makes a sound like a low whistle, and then he’s fishing his cock out of his own pants, the tip already wet with precum as he shifts his hips to slip between your legs, propping your leg up over his so that he can push inside. He does so with a small groan, resting his forehead against your back, and he feels you clench down on him.

He’s content to lay there – the warmth of his clothing and from you almost too much, but seeing the way you snuggle deeper into the shirt sending something warm and hot and possessive through his chest. He’ll just pull you against him tighter, the slight shift making the both of you hiss at the small burst of pleasure. He’s content to fall asleep that way – relaxed, his cock still nestled inside of you and hard as a rock, the feeling of your cunt lulling him into dreams filled with you naked and moaning his name, all bouncing breasts and desperate hands and begs for more.

(Don’t be surprised, when this happens, to wake up feeling something dripping out of you – yes, it’s cum and yes, that wet dream was enough to get him there. Don’t mention it, either, because Shouta’s always disappointed that he wasn’t awake for it - after all, call him old-fashioned but finishing inside of you is arguably his favorite selfish part of sex.)

Overstimulation

Shouta is not a stingy lover. In the bedroom, he lives to see you enjoying yourself – it soothes this primal, horrible ache in his chest that yearns or your approval and happiness. A lot of his obsession is born out of a desire to please you and keep you happy and safe, and this translates into making absolutely sure you’re satisfied in every possible way between the sheets.

Sex isn’t really sex until you’ve had at least two orgasms, whether that be because of his fingers or tongue, and only then will he throw your pretty legs up over his shoulders, sinking into you with a sharp exhale and letting his face rest against your sternum as he wills himself to not get too excited, to keep his cool and not rut into you like wild animal. He wants you to enjoy sex with him – he craves intimacy with you and he needs you to crave it too, and he’s hopeful that by giving you the best attention and care in bed, you’ll be more inclined to kiss and hold him, to touch him and whisper those three little words in his ear.

(The three little words that make him gasp and shudder, cum immediately spurting out of his red, swollen tip, his knuckles turning white as he grips onto your thigh and the bedsheets tightly enough to keep himself grounded through the pleasure.)

And so, Shouta finds that there’s something darkly pleasing about being the one to get you orgasming, being the source of your pleasure – seeing your face twist up, your mouth forming that pretty ‘o’ and your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Shouta develops a bit of a sick fascination with seeing just how often he can make you come for him, and from what. It stems from a good place; a genuine desire to make you happy and get you shaking with pleasure and incoherent enough that all you can say is his name.

 He likes to choose how you come – will it be his fingers? Will he draw pretty circles on the inside of your thighs, teasing you and feeling the way your breathing picks up a bit, a whine of his name telling him that you’re growing impatient, that you need more, that you need him?

He’ll get closer and closer to your folds, pressing a thumb against them and dipping in ever so slightly, the dull pleasure making you bite your lip, embarrassment eating you alive because it feels so dirty to be teased like this, to keep your legs so wide open for him, to feel the way his eyes are staring at you so fully and intensely, the adoration and lust swimming in those dark depths nearly too much for you handle.

He’ll press two fingers against your clit and get to work, rubbing with light pressure and slowly increasing it, feeling the way the nub gets harder and more swollen, fingers swiping down to collect a bit of your slick to make things easier, the pads of his fingers gliding along your sensitive skin and making your hips jump and twist.

He’ll use his other hand to finger you, rough calloused skin dragging against your walls and pressing right into the spot he knows you love – the one that makes your back arch up, your head pushing back against the pillow, your nails digging into the bedsheets and tangling through his hair. Working you through an orgasm with his fingers is his favorite and what you’ll most likely get – he gets a front row seat, watching with rapt attention as you fall apart for him, feeling the way your thighs tremble and close in around him when you’re right on the edge.

There’s this feeling of power, pride and desire making him light headed and only work harder at his ministrations, ignoring your yelps and gasps of overstimulation because he needs to see that again, to feel the way you clench down onto his fingers so tightly that he has to work to pull them out to thrust back in. You’re just so damn sexy, the sight of you laying before him with your pretty legs spread wide open making him swallow so hard you can hear it.

But of course, Shouta also loves using his mouth to get you off – pink lips attaching to your nipple, sucking and running his tongue over your areola to make you squirm, your little keens making his cock twitch against your thigh.

He’ll kiss at your hips, making a trail down to your clit, giving you little kitten licks while his eyes flick up to look at you, seeing the way you sigh and bite your lip, the rising and falling of your chest making him near feral.  

He wants to see you moan and writhe, to feel you grasping at him and needing him, and so his patience wears out and he dives between your legs, slick coating his nose and chin as he licks and sucks and thrusts his tongue against you, eyes closed in concentration and hair getting in his face but he doesn’t care – how can he, when you sound so pretty moaning his name like that?

How can he, when your thighs are clenching around his head and you’re just so fucking wet for him, showing him exactly how much he’s affecting you?

It's euphoric, and soon you’ll be crying out his name and creaming all over his lips, shaking in his grasp so hard that he has to hold you down by the hips to help you ride out the pleasure, the taste of you making him so hard that it hurts.

And god, there’s something about the way you respond to voice and his commands in bed that makes Shouta curse under his breath. You look up at him all wide-eyed, pleasure written across your face as you look to him for guidance, his voice gruff and thick with lust as he tells you to let go, come for me, want to see you come for me.

You immediately furrow your brows and bite your lip, grinding yourself harder against his fingers, feeling the pads of them brush against the spot that has you seeing stars, his name a prayer as you chant it over and over, only stopping to moan or gasp.

The sight is intoxicating, leaving Shouta gaping like a fish with parted lips and heavy breaths, staring at you like you’re something heavenly, divine, unable to tear his gaze away because he still can’t quite believe this is happening, that you’re moaning his name, that you’re letting him touch you and oh, he knows what that change in your facial expression means, how you’re blinding grasping at him, how you’re stuttering out a rushed ‘m coming, Shouta ‘m coming fuck-!

Watching you come undone right before his eyes has Shouta’s cock throbbing, his hips subtly moving against your thigh because he needs friction, the sight of you and the knowledge that he made you this way nearly too much for him to bear.

And when you finally calm down, your breathing wild and your eyes a little glazed over, he’ll just swallow and quickly situate him hips between your legs, gripping himself at the base and impatiently prodding at your entrance, his words dark as he tells you that you’ve got another one in you, give it to me.

When he pushes in – slowly, so as not to hurt you – he lets out a groan, only muffled by the way he leans down to kiss you, feeling the way you tense up and eagerly return the gesture, wrapping your ankles around his waist and pulling him deeper, showing him that you need more more more if you’re going to finish like he wants you to.

And Shouta’s happy to oblige – snapping his hips into you until his muscles are sore and screaming, a thumb relentlessly toying with your clit, his lips against your neck and whispering praise tainted with curses.

He’s encouraging you to feel good, telling you to tell me how it – fuck, how it feels, you’re so goddamn tight, tell me how to fuck you – o-oh…

Because really, while he loves to get you coming and falling apart on his terms, Shouta’s pride flies out the window where you’re concerned – he’d do anything to get you clenching down on him and begging him to finish inside you.

Anything.

Voyeurism

Honestly, it’s a byproduct of having stalked you for such an extended period of time. Watching you was the only way to feel close to you – he wasn’t able to hold you and kiss you, to feel you and lay with you and make you whine his name, and becoming your shadow was the only possible substitution.

And even then, it wasn’t enough – all the guilt he harbors from watching you in your more intimate moments never fades, not even after years of having stolen you away, your pretty body and mind fully his to do as he pleases. He’s still ashamed, but some things he just simply can’t unlearn – and so, even once your sexual relationship begins, Shouta finds himself still utterly excited by the prospect of watching you pleasure yourself.

It’s dirty, horrible, something that makes him feel so guilty he can hardly stand it, but he can’t not stop and watch through the crack in your door when he hears what sounds suspiciously close to muffled whimpers.

He can’t not press his ear against the wooden door, closing his eyes and imagining what you’re doing to yourself – maybe you’re playing with that cute little clit, rubbing it in circles and biting your lip because it just feels so damn good, mimicking the way that Shouta works you up slowly and steadily, getting you so sensitive that your hips jump and twitch at just the slightest bit of pressure against your sensitive nerves.

(He’s had dreams about the way you taste – he thinks you’d be musky, something natural and strong and savory, a taste he wants in his mouth at all hours of the day. And the way you’d tremble and gush for him if it was his fingers and mouth toying with the nub, how you’d tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him closer and closer to you, needing as much of him as possible, needing him him him…)

Maybe you’re sinking your fingers inside of you, working up from one to three, stretching yourself out and imagining it’s him instead, that he’s the one filling you up and making your toes curl, that he’s the one causing all those pretty noises to fall from your lips.

(He knows just how much bigger his own fingers are – he’ll imagine the size difference, his eyes shutting tight when he thinks of how much more he can stretch you out, how much better he can make you feel, how the texture of his fingers must send pleasure up your spine in a way that your soft, comparatively dainty fingers can’t.)

Maybe you’re perched up on a pillow, straddling it with your cunt pressed snugly against the fabric, slick smearing across the cotton as you grind your hips back and forth, hunched over so that the angle is just right, imagining it’s him underneath you and it’s his thigh or cock you’re rubbing against.

(He’s had wet dreams about this sight, always hoping and fantasizing that you’re just so desperate for him that you’re imagining it’s his face you’re riding, his mind conjuring up the sound of your voice moaning out his name and telling him yes yes o-oh fuck yes, Shouta ‘s so good, you feel so good! He’d never seen you riding a pillow during all those months of stalking, but the idea’s just too graphic and wanton and lewd for him to not fantasize about, the idea satisfying the part of him that’s embarrassed and ashamed of just how badly he craves you – because surely if you’re humping some piece of cotton and pretending it’s him, then what does he have to be embarrassed about? Lots, really, but it makes him feel slightly better.)

Or maybe you’ve decided that you want something a little more physical, something to really mimic him – he’d seen you using your vibrator many, many times before he stole you away. His face always turned pink at the sight, his throat going dry and his grip on his capture weapon a little loose as he simply stared, the sight of your pretty body contorting and the plastic held against the crest of your pelvic bone making everything else fade away.

You’re so damn pretty – the way you moan and sigh, how your legs twitch, how your breasts sway and jiggle with every motion, making his fingers ache to reach out and squeeze, to knead and touch and grope, like some sort of pervert.

And this fantasy and mental image has stayed with him long after kidnapping you – once your physical relationship begins and Shouta no longer feels it would make you even more uncomfortable and scared of him, he’s buying you a replacement for that trusty vibrator you used to use to death. He’d left it on your nightstand one morning with a hasty note simply saying I’m gone a lot, I don’t want you to get lonely.

Of course, this is only half the truth – he does want you to be happy, and he doesn’t want you to grow resentful of the times when he’s too exhausted to give you proper sex. But of course, the unspoken portion of this gift is that he wants to watch you use said vibrator – and badly.

He wants to sit in a chair at the side of the bed, legs spread wide as he grips the base of his cock, absentmindedly squeezing at his balls while his dark eyes stay trained on your figure. He wants you to be spread out for him, perhaps a skimpy set of lingerie covering your pretty body (or perhaps none at all, if you’re comfortable with it) with your legs spread wide, the vibrator in your hand hovering against your clit. He wants to hear the steady, dull buzzing sound mixing with your whimpers, to see the way your body tenses up and you whine, feet flexing and shaky breaths slipping past your lips as you slowly work towards your high.

He wants to see the way you eventually grow impatient, changing the vibrator’s setting and immediately crying out, the feeling much more intense and making your orgasm hurtle towards you, getting slick all over the bedspread as you cry out his name and writhe.

And Shouta doesn’t want you to look at him – he doesn’t want you to acknowledge that he’s there. Ignore him, just as you would have back when he was simply watching from outside your window – he wants to watch you, not have a show be put on for him.

You’re just too pretty, and there’s something about watching you that gets him hard as rock, his fist twisting and flicking so quickly it’s nearly a blur as he watches you transition to fucking yourself with the toy, your cries loud and wanton as Shouta grunts and curses under his breath. He wants to finish with you this time, his hips thrusting against his hand in an effort to match the pace you’ve set for yourself. It’s a dirty secret of his, and while Shouta won’t force you into it, just know that he would love to catch you masturbating – just the sight of you pleasuring yourself is enough to get him hot under the collar immediately, hand rushing into his trousers to cup himself because god.

He just likes to watch you, and even during regular sex when he’s folded you in half, those eyes are alternating between watching your face, your bouncing breasts, and your cunt swallowing his cock again and again and again, his cheeks a rosy pink and a bead of sweat dripping from his brow.

You’re just too pretty, he can’t take it – how can he not immediately want to get something of his on you, staining your lovely skin and gorgeous face with his cum?

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE

Hair Pulling

But not on you – unless you like it, in which case he might consider but will only ever do it lightly. He doesn’t like causing pain in general, and would only be willing to do it in very specific scenarios – and even then, it will be as gently as he possibly can.

Rather, Shouta likes when you pull his hair – he doesn’t let most people touch it, and it’s a rare day that he actually runs a comb through it, so as a result his scalp is extremely sensitive. And so, when you tunnel your fingers through his dark locks and pull, Shouta audibly groans, the tingling pain sending pleasure racing down his spine.

There’s just something naughty about it – only you get to touch him like this, so only you get to run your fingers through his hair and tug at it.

He particularly likes when you pull it while he’s got his face between your legs. He likes how your fingers tunnel through it and scrape against his scalp, and he’ll often use it as an indicator of whether he’s doing a good job or not. If you pull often and hard, he knows he’s doing what he needs to do – he’ll keep the pace up and stay in that same spot, doing everything and anything in his power to keep you pulling at it, working through any pain in his jaw or tongue because he needs to make sure you’re feeling good even at his own expense.

When he’s got you perched on his face, your pretty thighs framing his head so that all he can smell and taste and feel is you, he likes to have you reach down and still pull lightly at the roots, your breasts squished together and nipples taut, the visual alongside your taste and the slight pain from his scalp making his eyes roll to the back of his head and precum dribble down his length.

When he’s hovering over you and thrusting into you, balls clapping against your ass and your legs wrapped around his waist, he likes to have you tug at his hair, moaning out and crying his name with each tug and letting his ego swell, each burst of light pain making his hips go harder, faster, deeper, anything to get you louder and clenching around him tighter.

Even when you’re just kissing – simple, innocent kisses full of smiles and his hands gripping you just ever so slightly, Shouta likes to have you running your hands through his hair and tugging lightly, keeping him on his toes and forcing his cock to life.

He just really, really likes to have you touch his hair – it’s something intimate and something he’ll only ever let you do, so really, you should count yourself lucky. Shouta sure does when he’s buried deep inside you, watching your face and feeling your hands in his hair as he gives you every last drop he has to offer.

Mirror Sex

In general, Shouta absolutely loves watching you in bed. He thinks you’re genuinely the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and when you’re gasping on his cock and moaning his name, you’re even prettier, even more breathtaking and lovely and perfect.

And while he prefers positions where he can see your face, he wants to be able to see your expressions always, even if he’s got you bent over while he presses his back to your chest and mounts you like some sort of wild animal.

And so, to solve this problem, Shouta invests in a modest, simple mirror that he keeps facing the end of your ‘shared’ bed – it’s roughly four feet tall and two feet wide, the perfect size so that when he’s got you on your hands and knees for him, your back arching and your arms threatening to give out, he can watch your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He’ll experiment with the pacing of his thrusts, going deeper and harder to see the way your brows scrunch up, how your jaw drops and the most depraved whine slips out of you, pride and arousal swelling in his chest because he made you make that noise.

He’ll go slower and keep his thrusts brushing against the spots that make you gasp just so that he can see the way your lips twitch.

He’ll speed up, fucking into you so fast that his balls slap lewdly against your ass, the noise filling the room alongside your pants and his groans, watching all the while how your eyes flutter and your back arches. He’ll sit you in his lap facing the mirror, spreading your legs and getting to work with his fingers curling and rubbing inside of you, a thumb circling your clit and his lips at your ear as he tells you to watch, pretty, see how good you look?

He’ll kiss a line from behind your ear, down your neck and over your shoulder, occasionally glancing up to the mirror to make sure you’re actively looking, whispering praises against your skin each time.

And he’ll bring you close to the mirror, too – sitting you only a foot away from the reflective surface, letting you get a nice view of Shouta’s favorite sight – your cunt, all spread out and wet, practically begging for something big, heavy, and throbbing to fill it, to stretch it out and make you see stars.

He’ll spread your lips, exposing your clenching hole, smiling at your reflection and making you tell him that you’re pretty, forcing you to grow comfortable with your body because he knows that it makes you insecure to see so much of yourself, and it drives him crazy.

He’ll even fuck you against the mirror – forcing you to watch your face from mere inches away, your hot breaths fogging up the glass, and he’ll make you come like that – holding your chin straight ahead and telling you to watch, sh-shit, watch, don’t take those fucking eyes off your face in a strained voice.

He just likes getting a good view of you during sex – you’re too pretty not to be seen, after all.  

BIGGEST FANTASY

In general, Shouta absolutely loves being intimate with you. While he’s no virgin, he doesn’t have an extensive amount of experience, and frankly he’s never been the biggest fan of sex – it’s too messy, too energy draining, and just a massive hassle.

However, when it’s with you, and when you moan his name just right and leave your nail marks down his back, Shouta will gladly strip his clothing at your beck and call, his lips already on yours before you can even finish your sentence.

And while he loves good, rough, passionate sex that’s full of smacking hips, gasps, moans and growls, there’s something to be said for slower, gentler sex, the kind that’s full of airy breaths and slow, meaningful kisses.

It’s the kind of sex where you can really feel him; every inch of him, the way his body covers yours as he hovers over you, the tickle of his hair against your jaw and neck as he buries his face in the juncture of your shoulder and collarbone, his hips rocking into yours and managing to grind against that one perfect spot that gets you sighing out a moan. It’s just more intimate this way, less of a wild, frantic race to get inside of you and more a slow, controlled love making, as embarrassed as he is to use to term.

Regardless, you’re most likely to get this type of sex from Shouta in two specific scenarios – the first of which being after a very long day, filled with a harrowing patrol where he maybe wasn’t able to save everyone, or things didn’t go according to plan. When this happens, he needs to just hold you, to feel you, to hear you whisper his name under your breath and tell him how good he feels, how he’s the best you’ve ever had, how he’s the only one you’ll ever want…

The second – and far more likely – scenario is in the early hours of the morning, when the sunlight is streaming into the modest apartment he keeps you in, your shared bed feeling warm with your bodies pressed against one another. Soft, sleepy morning sex is Shouta’s favorite, and something that he tries to incite as often as he possibly can.

There’s just something about it that gets him hot under the collar; maybe it’s the casualness of it all, the way it feels so natural, so human and so right, as if your bodies were made for each other. Maybe it’s the way it feels so intimate, like you’re both raw, yourselves in the most wonderful way.

Or maybe it’s the way you’re still just slightly sleepy, and you’re much more likely to be clingy at this time, touching him more and letting your real noises come out, not hindered by any shame or hate or embarrassment.

Regardless, Shouta loves it – so on the rare weekends where he’s off, expect to be woken up on the brink of an orgasm just as you deserve.

A yawn slips past Shouta’s lips, eyes peeling open and seeing the gray of his bedsheets. Everything is warm and soft, and as he shifts slightly, something moves next to him.

Nothing seems real for a few moments as he gazes down at you, your body curled up next to his own. It doesn’t feel real that you’re really here – in his bed without any clothing, happily sleeping without a care in the world. He swallows, something coming over him and moving him slowly – carefully – peel off the covers, moving down to where your legs slightly part.

He leans down, face mere inches away from the tufts of your pubic hair, his eyes fluttering closed as he inhales. You’re perfect – and as he gently pries your legs open further, Shouta can’t help but think of how often he’s fantasized about this very moment – how often he’s dreamt of what’s between your thighs, how he’d lay awake at night and press his fingers between two pillows, grinding his fingers against the cotton and pretending it was you, imagining how warm and wet you’d be for him.

He swallows, determination setting his brow as he lays onto his stomach, shuffling so that he can lightly lick at your inner thighs, eyes closing at the familiar taste of you. He takes his time, going slowly and softly, licking closer and closer to your pretty folds, eventually reaching them and licking his lips at the taste.

A thumb comes up to slowly press against your clit, knowing too much pressure would hurt and not warm your body up the way it needed. He continues his licks, before switching roles and starting to suckle at your clit as a finger dips between your folds, collecting the slick and rubbing it between his fingers.

Soon he’s pressing one inside, feeling the way your thighs twitch slightly, a small, sleepy moan ringing in his ears. God, you’re so damn perfect – even unconscious you’re enough to get his cock throbbing against the cotton sheets.

He keeps his pace slow, but as time passes you stir a bit, and when he hears your sleepy voice mumble out his name, Shouta curses, his fingers speeding up a bit.

That gets you more awake – soon your fingers are carding through his hair, sighs and murmurs of his name sounding like heaven.

“Mm, Shouta, that feels good…” You mumble, still dazed from waking up. Your hips are twitching now, a sign that the pleasure is slowly beginning to build.

Shouta groans against your cunt, the sound muffled.

Soon his fingers are picking up the pace again, his circles and licks at your clit growing more insistent, and the hands weaving through his hair start to tug – the sensation gets him humping at the bed for a moment, the morning glow still shining on you as he glances up at your face. You look like an angel – shining in the sunlight, your lips parted in a moan, head thrown back in pleasure.

Shouta pulls back for a moment, sending a kiss to your clit that makes your hips buck. He chuckles a bit, licking his lips.

“You’re so beautiful..” He whispers against your thigh, pressing open mouthed kisses against the skin. You hum at his compliment, and he watches as you smile, his breath practically punched out of his lungs.

“Shouta, you’re too good to me…” Your voice is soft, too, and soon he’s back to sucking at your clit, feeling the way your body jolts slightly, the pleasure making you sigh and swallow. He watches the movement of your throat.

“Feels good, mm yes, oh Shouta - just like that,” You start, eyes closed again, and Shouta finds himself abandoning the gentle pace he’d adopted, instead being more insistent, more pushy – suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to get you coming on his fingers.

You gasp lightly at the new change in pace, grinding your hips to match the new stimulation, and it makes Shouta dizzy. How can you be so attractive? How can you look so perfect in this moment; in his bed, moaning his name, looking and tasting and smelling like his own personal slice of heaven?

It’s cheesy and he’s almost embarrassed, but tears prick at the corners of his eye.

Soon your gasps have turned to moans, and all too soon you warn him in a slurred voice that you’re coming, your back arching up off the mattress and your moans light and airy as you gush against his fingers, white coating all the way down his knuckles and onto his palms. It makes him choke a bit, the feeling of your cunt rhythmically clenching down on him and your chest heaving, and with a final lick to your clit that makes you jerk, he’s moving up to kiss you.

The kiss is slow, his tongue brushing against yours and wet sound filling the room, but Shouta doesn’t mind. How could he, when he’s never felt this relaxed before?

His eyes slowly open as he feels your fingers wrap around him, a thumb brushing along his tip to collect a bit of the wetness there.

“Shouta, let me make you feel good.” You tell him, your voice just a whisper.

He looks at you, his lips parted for a brief moment, before a small smile quirks up the corners of his mouth. “Why would you do that?”

You trace the line of his jaw with your free thumb. The slow strokes of his cock have him a bit distracted, but he hears every word you speak to him. “Because I love you.”

He swallows, the words making something feel tight in his throat.

You laugh a bit at his silence and the dumbstruck look on his face. “What? Do you not love me too?”

And to answer that, Shouta scoffs, leaning down to kiss you again as he grasps himself around the base, pulling himself away from you and pushing into you, feeling your sharp intake of breath against his lips.

His pace is slow, soft, like he’s trying to tell you something – hips moving slowly and deeply, letting you feel every inch of him. He kisses your neck as your head falls back, your eyes fluttering closed.

Pressing a kiss against your collarbone, Shouta smiles against your skin, a groan falling from his lips.

“I love you, more than you’ll ever know.”

And he means it – you’ll don’t know half of the things he’s done for you, and as he squeezes at your breast and hears your soft moan, he knows he’ll never tell you.

[thecuriousquest]

Learning Opportunity

Yandere!Shouta Aizawa x Fem!Reader x Yandere!Hitoshi Shinso

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @chickennugnugnug

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW, non con touching, non con references, non con sex, brief non con fingering, pseudoincest/stepcest, abusive behavior, sexually abusive behavior, creepy step dad, creepy step brother, non consensual spanking, punishment spanking

Master List

—————————————————————————

It’s been at least three months since your mother passed away, leaving you with your deranged step father and somewhat creepy step brother. You do your best to avoid them, only coming out of your room when necessary, but it’s so difficult living with the two of them.

Your step dad usually comes into your room at night, sitting on your bed. You stiffen under the covers as he slides his hand along your back, smoothing calloused fingers over your soft flesh. He guides his hand along your lower back, dipping further and further until his fingers ghost the doughy hill of your ass.

You cry, a soft whimper escaping wet and parted lips.

He usually leaves once you start sobbing uncontrollably. Usually. Sometimes, he likes listening to you cry, likes listening to the hitched whine in your voice as his hand travels deeper and deeper between your legs.

These are the days where he wakes up next to you, naked, but you didn’t sleep the entire night. Not after what your step dad did to you.

More often than not after school, Hitoshi will make snacks for the two of you, and he tries to feed them to you. He will…intimidate you into opening your mouth. He stands over you, tall and unmoving like a mountain, holding that fucking dumpling in his hand. He whispers into your ear for you to be a good girl and obey Toshi-nii.

You take a shaky breath, closing your eyes to block out the sting prickling in your orbs and the burn in your nose as you open your mouth for him. He sticks his meaty fingers in your mouth, brushing your tongue as he feeds you your afternoon snack. Hitoshi leaves his fingers lingering on your lips as he smiles while watching you chew your food.

You can’t help but sniffle as he places you on his lap, turning the tv on so you two can watch a movie or a show together. Of course there’s an entire plate of snacks for the two of you to munch on. The only rule is you can’t feed yourself. No. Toshi-nii swats your hand away with a light smack whenever you try it. If you want more to eat, you’d better ask him, and don’t even think about complaining when he feeds you.

——

You thought you could get some peace showering, but you were wrong. Aizawa placed a new rule where you have to tell him when you’re about to shower. He’s never left in the dark with your nude secrets. He checks over your goosebump flesh, making sure nobody scratched or bruised his little girl. He undresses you slowly, letting you quiver and tremble slightly harder with every passing item of clothing that he drops on the floor. Soon, he’s pressing you up against the wall of the shower, your bare tits against the tile as he fucks into you, his scratchy pubes and balls smacking against your skin in such a rough manner it makes you scream into your palm.

Due to being unable to lock your door or even shut it, you feel eyes on you through the small crack, and you know it’s your brother watching you. You stand there frozen, unable to dress in your room. Now, you have to hide inside of your closet to get dressed.

You try your best to shower at school from now on.

——

Recently, you’ve become a defiant little thing. You don’t abide by your curfew, not wanting to come home and have dinner with the two of them. So, you stay out as late as you can, ignoring both of their texts.

Your step dad’s messages convey his anger towards you while your step brother shows concern.

Aizawa: Where the hell are you? You better get your ass home right now if you know what’s good for you.

Hitoshi: Hey, sis, you okay? It’s getting kind of late. You should probably come home. I’m worried about you.

You roll your eyes and stay in the library, doing your homework until it closes. You grab dinner next from a convenience store, and then you decide to make your way home. Walking in with your backpack slung on one shoulder, you shut the door behind you.

Your step dad appears in only seconds, rounding the hallway from the kitchen.

“And where the hell have you been, young lady?”

Sighing, you shrug your backpack onto the floor, taking your shoes off as well. “None of your business. I’m going to bed.” You just want to get away from him.

Hitoshi walks down the steps. He stops when he sees you. “Hey, sis, where have you been? It’s kind of late. You missed dinner.”

“Can the both of you get off of my fucking back?” You don’t like this, don’t like how they have trapped you. One is in front of you, the other blocking your path to your room.

No, you really don’t like this at all.

A quick hand reaches out for your hair, the other popping your mouth. Aizawa drags you close to him, chest to chest.

“You don’t really have the room to be talking like that, you know?”

He drags you into the living room, plopping down on the couch, forcing you to stand between his parted knees. His hand is still tight in your locks, forcing you to bend at an odd angle.

You press your hands against his chest to steady yourself, to fight the inevitable

“You’ve been a really bad girl lately. I’m not going to let you continue with this behavior. As your father-”

“You’re not my fucking father, you asshole! Fathers don’t rape their daughters! You’re just a fucking pervert, a monster!” you shout in his face, flecks of spit landing on his cheeks and nose.

Shouta wipes the saliva off with the sleeve of his shirt with a grunt before draping you over his sturdy thigh. He looks at his son who is standing idly by in the doorway of the living room.

“Shinso, come here.”

His son strides over lazily with hands in his pockets. “Yeah, Dad?”

“Have you ever given anyone a spanking before?”

You wriggle with mortification, not wanting to endure this any longer. “Please, don’t-”

“Hush,” Aizawa scolds as he delivers a swat to your upturned bottom.

You yip and hang your head in absolute shame.

“So, have you, Shinso?”

“No, Dad, I haven’t.” A grin appears on the teenager’s face, knowing what direction this is going in.

“Well then, I think this will be a great learning opportunity for you.”

With that, he raises his hand for a flurry of skin blazing smacks. You rear your head again, writhing across the older man’s lap as your legs scissor.

“I’m starting over her skirt because I want to build up the sting in layers. It doesn’t hurt as much now, but it will once we take away some of her protection.”

Doesn’t hurt as much now? Is he fucking shitting you? It hurts like fucking hell!

“You really want to focus on the lower half of her bottom and the upper half of her thighs. You don’t want to end up hitting her tailbone or anything on the lower back. That can cause unnecessary damage,” he explains to his son.

“Oh, I see. That makes sense,” Hitoshi responds. “She sure is kicking a lot.”

“Yeah, if it gets annoying, you can always just pin them down like this-” Aizawa puts a leg over both of yours, effectively trapping them.

“This isn’t fair! You’re humiliating me!” you scream into the couch cushions.

“If she starts being a little too mouthy, you can always take away a layer of clothing,” your step dad informs Hitoshi as he hikes up your skirt around your waist. “See, she’s already a nice shade of pink.” He pats the swell of your bottom, and it causes you to wince.

“Can I touch it?” Shinso asks tentatively.

“Sure, kid.” Amusement laces your step father’s tone, and you groan out of mortification as you feel Hitoshi’s fingers graze over your spanked flesh.

You hiss sharply as he pokes it.

“Fucking get off of me!” You try to kick your pinned legs as you push on Shouta’s thigh.

“That’s enough out of you, young lady.”

The spanking resumes as he pushes down on your back. A sob climbs up your throat, past a knot that you wish you could swallow. Shaking your head, you shoot an arm back to try and protect your backside from his onslaught.

“No, I hate you! I hate you both so much! Stop it!”

You feel his hand come down even harder but at a slower pace. It’s agonizing, leaving you breathy with tears all over your face.

“Now, Hitoshi, this is usually when I like to take down her underwear. You want to do the honors, kid?”

You look up at your step brother. He has the same expression akin to whenever he wants to feed you something. He slowly, ever so painfully slowly, drags your cotton panties down to your knees.

Lacking any protection, your punishment starts again. You catch a glimpse of Hitoshi’s hard cock as he palms himself through his pants.

It makes you want to vomit.

How could someone who is supposed to be your dad do this to you? How could someone who’s supposed to be your big brother treat you like this? How could your fucking mother die and leave you with these two creeps?

You hold onto a pillow on the couch, crying into it as you’re forced to lie over your step father’s knee and take whatever he plans to give you.

“And when she’s all sweet and compliant, that’s when you know she doesn’t have any fight left in her. You’re free to do whatever you want with her after that.”

Shouta makes an example out of you by hefting you up onto his lap, holding you closely.

He whispers in your ear, “There’s my good girl. You be good for Daddy now, okay? Be a good girl for me.” You feel his fingers slide beneath your skirt and into the folds of your slit.

Your chest heaves as you sob even harder against his shoulder. He’s right, though. You’re too tired to fight back. All the energy has left your body from fighting him during your spanking, and you simply sit there on your step dad’s lap and sob.

You don’t want to be spanked again after all.

Hitoshi lowers the zipper on his pants, pulling his cock free as he strokes himself.

“So, we can do anything with her now?” your step brother inquires.

“Anything you want. It’s not like she has room to disagree.”

[lolita-lollipop]

OK so I just read your last fic thing with Hizashi and Aizawa kidnapping a teenager and her preferring Hizashi over Aizawa and I love it!!! It's so fucking good and the flow and everything is amazing!!!

Not a request: just a funny concept: imagine Y/N preferring Aizawa over Hizashi and Hizashi is like ????? Bc he's the FUN parent dammit, why is their bby cuddling up to quiet and boring Aizawa?? And Mic being super annoyed when their bby doesn't want to cuddle up to him or relax with him and choosing to curl up next to Aizawa lmfao

😂😂😂😂 Just a funny idea

YANDERE PLATONIC ERASERMIC X READER (DRABBLE)

 If this isn’t facts I don’t know what is.  Mic knew when they agreed that Aizawa would give out punishments, that hizashi would immediately be the natural favorite. Because he’s the one to save you from your punishments, he’s the one to tell you that it’s okay and that he thinks your father was being mean too. 

Hizashi was always the one there to reassure you that you would be okay, he was always the one to give you a snack and some water after you got in trouble, and he was the one to wipe your tears when you were crying. 

So imagine his shock when you seem to prefer Aizawa over him. It's just the little things at first, when the three of you eat dinner together you sit closer to him, when it's time for bed you ask him to read you stories, you let him sit next to you when you were with the cats. You never let Mic though. 

then, as months progressed,  your favoritism became oh-so evident. It was almost like you actively avoided mic, and sought out Aizawa, which was so surreal to mic. Aizawa is the one who lectures you and makes you sit in the corner till you're crying your eyes out. So why. The hell. Do you. Like him. 

It was just so aggravating, how Aizawa let you lie down in his lap while he stroked your hair and kept you warm. The two of you never even talked! He was so fun and interesting, he loved cracking jokes and making you laugh and tickling you! Why did you choose him?

It gets on his nerves, whenever he sees you cuddling close to aizawa, when he sees aizawa letting you help him in the kitchen, when you stop crying when he comes around, and start again when mic does. Don't get him wrong, he loves you with all his heart, and he loves his husband too, but when both are pretty much icing him out (mainly you), that just pisses him off. 

The funny thing is though, you don't even really like aizawa, in fact, you almost hate him, and you hate that your mind wants you to love him. Mic’s original plan of making you have favoritism towards him completely and utterly backfired, instead of showing more affection towards mic, it was towards aizawa. 

Maybe it's just because aizawa was so much like you, of course you were a giant hero who could crush you in between his fingers, but you were so quiet, and sometimes solitude made more of a statement than talking ever did. Aizawa understood that. And he knew sometimes just curling up by a fire in silence with back rubs was better than talking. Hizashi didnt. 

Slowly the favoritism becomes becomes evident to both parents, and aizawa, while not intentionally, rubs it in Mics face, excluding him, doing cute things with you, knowing you wouldnt like him being there. 

And mic, we all know as a yandere, mic is very unstable, and as  you wear him down, the psychosis just elevates until he is held up by a string prepared to snap. And when it snaps, it's not good for anybody. 

He literally begins forcing  you to do things with him, you sit by aizawa at the dinner table? he tugs the back of your shirt to be closer with himlike a cat. You ask aizawa to read you a story? Youre getting Mic, and possibly a scolding if you complain about it. And even if you whine when he hugs you and the cats, or sits close to you when you watch Tv, he is doing it either way. 

And the more you complain about your “new favorite” (self proclaimed of course), the more your freedoms get taken away from you, maybe it means you have to be strapped down to eat dinner, maybe it means you don't get any outside time, maybe it means no TV, maybe you have to sleep in their room now. Eventually you learn that you cant play favorites, not when both of them are teetering on the edge of insanity. 

You'll learn to love them equally, 

You'll have to. 

[fluff-n-cookies]

Dadzawa with an autistic reader

the perfect pair <3

@inkslayer this is for you.

based of this comment I was given

Aizawa cares about you SO. FREAKING. MUCH!

he definitely encourages you to take your medicine. he just wants his baby to be happy n' healthy D:

we will also get soundproofing for your door, and will sometimes turn down the TV tell PresentMic to shut up and if he can, he will put on headphones so you can focus.

SPEAKING OF HEADPHONES

hes getting you the BEST headphones money can buy NO HESITATION.

as an old man, he likes his books and if you like them and listen to Audio books he will get you the comfiest, the most soundproof, the- I DON"T EVEN KNOW THEY ARE THAT GOOD.

but as a yandere, he would encourage you to stay in his room to listen to them as he is grading papers.

and I feel like Aizawa also hates tags on clothes, he just finds them annoying.

so we all know that he's ringing up this support hero team to get them to put together the comfiest clothes they can.

and it's tailored to your exact body shape and preferences so needn't you worry about it fitting.

and you will just find Aizawa outside your doorway awkwardly holding your clothes all like "here, for u"

he also tries not to use any strong spices or shampoo (but he all know that he does not shower no matter what) and he tries to keep you away from the smells you don't like.

but you know what? platonic overhaul would probably make you wear a bird mask to keep the smells out.

if anyone is seeing this please send platonic overhaul asks I'm bored.

and Inkslayer I hoped you liked it! not my best writing but i tried my best.

[thetreefairy]

Platonic Aizawa and Present mic reaction to reader walking to the dorms with Shinso and find this weird slimy plant thing and what’s to keep it(I be trying to bring weird shit home)

(I was looking at Pinterest and I see the most funniest face of Aizawa and Mic made and I can’t get it out my head)

I love this idea, sorry that's late, I am still studying. and hehe its kinda short af.

so this is one of those reaction thingies

just pure fluff but I suppose a slimy plant can be a warning?

Reader and shinso walking to the dorms, carrying snacks and some boba.

Well mainly Shinso is carrying the snacks, since he's an overprotective bitch.

While the two were walking, Shinso was ranting on why they should allow cats in the dorms.

*Reader sees plant, and goes to pick it up, it kind looks like a slime monster*

"You are coming home with me."

*Reader grinned with a smile, and shinso couldn't disagree and let them take the plant.*

*Aizawa however looked at the plant went he went to do a dormcheck and screamed, causin Hizahi to see wtf is going on and he screamed as well. Almost activating his quirk until Reader calmed his ass down*

"This is now my friend!"

yeah maybe they should let you get real friends.

Im sorry that this is so shitty, I am currently working on other requests and a line out for p.2 from the y!shigaraki x reader x y!platonic!Erasermic.

[yandereaffections]

My Hero Academia Masterlist

Izuku Midoriya (Deku)

Coming home covered in blood begging for love

Headcannons

“if you dont love me ill kill myself”

Deku vs Bakugo

Naga Izuku

S/o who is clingy during their period

Punishments

Kidnapped S/o giving up

Jealous S/o leaving hickeys all over him

College Roomate

Siren Izuku w/ Lost at sea S/o

S/o w/ Psychedelic quirk

Poly Uraraka/Deku w/ a S/o who loves to Knit

S/o w/ a Angelic quirk

Not letting anyone else touch his S/o

Poly Nage Deku/Bakugo w/ Harpy S/o

Naga Izuku w/ Crush whos terrified of snakes

S/o who is tired all the time

The Purge + Blind S/o

Poly Uraraka/Deku HC

Nurse S/o

Tough S/o using her quirk to play with kids

S/o who loves his fluffy hair

Bakugo + Izuku with a S/o whos Quirk ends up hurting them

Dating Aizawas daughter

“hows the weather up there?”

Siren

Villain Deku trying to supply his vampire s/o with his blood

Darlings whos accidently morbid and creepy

Finding Crush s/o crying cause they were rejected by someone else

Gifting him an actual heart in a jar for Valentines

Yandere Alphabet: B,D,H,M,O

Villain Deku Headcannons

Comforting S/o who is upset over a character design change

Goth Darling who melts at affection

Comforting S/o who feels objectified

Poly Deku & Uraraka Headcannons

S/o who cant kiss directly in fear of eye contact

Darling attracting butterflies to them with their blood

Kidnapped S/o breaking down in relief that they dont have to worry about school anymore

Kidnapped Darling demanding cuddles when coming home

S/o that demands affection

Darling who loves that love lolita fashion but broke

Poly Kirideku

S/o wearing a lolita dress inspired by his hero outfit

Izuku Midoriya vs Peter Parker

S/o likes to be carried by him

S/o escapes only to come back with fast food

S/o saying "Yo! Guess what I found!!" with a arrow in their shoulder

S/o who jokes they're basically a acrow with anxiety cause they love shiny

"Why would you want me? You could have anyone you wanted"

Bakugo Katsuki

Deku vs Bakugo

Shut in S/o

S/o who has low self esteem due to family

S/o whose friends are affectionate

S/o Practicing their Love Confession with Deku

Accidentally hurting S/os feelings

Unknowingly kidnapping Vampire S/o

Liking Naga Bakugos punishments

Poly Nage Deku/Bakugo w/ Harpy S/o

Werewolf Bakugo protecting his mate

S/o whose parents dont let them have more than the minimum

S/o does illegal quirk cage battles

S/o Revealing her Healing quirk

Tall darling with low self esteem

Parents not supporting S/o after Winning tournament

Quiet crush Kabedoning him

S/o who can beat his ass

Bakugo + Izuku with a S/o whos Quirk ends up hurting them

S/o has a ‘villainous’ quirk

Kidnapped darling ignoring him

Naga Bakugo/Hunted down

Darling confessing to him first

Only being soft for his S/o

Villain Darling

S/o who’s the polar opposite of him

Finding his missing  kidnapped S/o in his bed

Kidnapped darling loving him back

S/o who spars cause they want to be pinned

Accidently hurting a low self esteem reader

Bat quirked reader

Aizawa Shouta

Depressed S/o

Villain S/o

NS FW HC

The Purge

Vampire

Drider

Vampire S/o

Demon

Demon Aizawa w/ angel s/o

Life Threatening situation

S/o being forced to be a Villain cause their family is that way

Werewolf Aizawa

S/o who relaxes when he plays with their hair

Thicc S/o

S/o who loves cats just as much as him

Making him jealous from giving all your attention to cats

Cuddling HC

Hawks kidnapping Aizawas S/O prt 2 (prt one on Hawks section)

Shinso dating Aizawas child

Cat like S/o

Stalking celerity S/o

S/o with daddy issues

S/o w/ a Bear quirk

Taking care of his new child

Yandere Alphabet: A,B,E,L,W

Student reader turns out to be the UA Traitor

Finding his S/o tangled in his scarf

Headcannons

S/os personality changes around animals

Stalker Headcannons

Finding out crush sleeps with a eraser head plushie

Tall S/o that pulls him into their chest in every hug

Aizawa falling for a MILF S/o

S/o who was rejected at first before Aizawa fell for them

S/o avoiding him cause they think theyre annoying

Todoroki Shoto

Jealous Todoroki

Yandere Crush

Kidnapping Tourist S/o

“You’ve already made me a victim, no need to make me a liar too”

Naga Todoroki

Yakuza Leader S/o attempting to send a hit on his father

S/o who wants to be a Manga artist more than a hero

Sick Darling

S/o whos clingy during their period

Yandere Alphabet: C,E,K,W

Falling for S/o HC

Villain Shoto w/ civilian crush

Villain Shoto w/ Villain crush

Engulfing him in a hug after a battle happy hes ok

S/o doesnt speak the same language

Tsuyu Asui

S/o’s a fan of hers

Hitoshi Shinso

Siren Hitoshi using his voice to make S/o take their swimsuit off

Naga Hitoshi

Shinso dating Aizawas child

How he would treat you

Dabi Todoroki

Headcannons

S/o who’s unfazed by Dabis appearance

Innocent Baby sitter crush

Witch S/o

S/o with healing tears family constantly makes them cry

Freedom HC

Stealing his drugged crush after a dental surgery

socially awkward and anxious s/o

another social anxiety s/o HC

Celebrating S/os Birthday

Commenting he should visit his mother more

Gentle darling S/o

S/os in a loveless quirk marriage

Loner S/o

Fluff HCs

S/o who has a cruel family

S/o whos so scared of dadi they cry anytime he gets near

Kidnapping his S/o

Shigaraki Tomura

HC

Buff s/o who’s actually a softie

someone hurting his darling right infront of him

Younger sister reader

S/o also has skin problems

Affectionate and loving darling

S/o who only allows him to touch them

Yandere Alphabet: A,B,H,I

S/o w/ a quirk similar to his own

Sick darling

Proposing to him

Finding out S/o is his favorite streamer

Peaceful S/o who hates violence

S/o who looking at him with motherly loving eyes

Breaking down and coming to him for comfort

Gentle darling

S/o saying he takes away their emotional pain

naive and trusting darling

“Do I need to remind you what happened last time you acted out? Because I will if you keep pushing me.”

Someone trying to save kidnapped S/o

Kirishima Eijirou

Headcannons

Fluff HC

S/o who acts tough but is actually really soft

Finding his S/o fighting Bakugou

Poly Kirideku

Getting jealous over how you treat your friend

Momo Yaoyorozu

Headcannons

S/o Spoiling her

S/o wants more stuffed animals but already has a bed full of them

Poly Uraraka/Deku

Poly Uraraka/Deku w/ a S/o who loves to Knit

Poly Uraraka/Deku HC

More Poly Deku & Uraraka Headcannons

Tamaki Amajiki

S/o isnt bothered with being kidnapped

S/o whos on their period

Tamaki + Mirio Poly HC

Vampire

S/o also has Anxiety

Kidnapped s/o insisting on a movie night

S/o is something like the mom of 1A

Seeing his darling is stabbed yet calm about it

Coming home to S/o and their collapsed pillow fort

S/o who loves to cook

Gifting him butterfly hairclips

Hearing S/o saying "Do you have Five wilting Cabbage Leaves instead of a Brain?" to another that tried asking them out

Kidnapped S/o who just stands there after breaking out of captivity

Mirio

Tamaki + Mirio Poly HC

Accidentally bumping into Blind darling

S/o who likes cats but hes a dog person

S/o who has a god level quirk but is a dumbass

How his yandere tendencies are affected by losing his quirk

Darling flirting with other people

Bear quirk S/o

S/o missing school cause they got hurt while fighting a villain

S/o whos soft with Eri

Pregnant S/o who doesnt want to keep them

Rival s/o whos mad at him for taking their spot in the Big Three

Wooing a introvert darling

Villain Mirio

S/os boyfriend left her pregnant

Hawks

Equally clingy S/o

S/o with wings

Cottagecore S/o

S/o with a symbiote quirk

Cat Quirk reader

S/o having a depressive episode

Quirkless S/o whos afraid of heights

S/o who loves the petname ‘kitten’

Hawks Bird habits HC

Soft S/o getting pissed and yelling in Spanish

Bathing with him

Finding out his S/o is pregnant

Kidnapped S/o whos chill as long as they have games

S/o whos dependent and clingy feels like he they dont deserve him

Demon

Vampire

Celebrating Halloween

S/o dressing up as him for Halloween

Purge

Villain Hawks

Comforting S/o whose friend started ignoring them suddenly

Falling for a different heros S/o

Hawks kidnapping Aizawas S/o (prt 2 on Aizawas section)

Almost forcing his Vegan S/o to eat meat

Wings HC

Raising a child

Vegan darling HC

Dealing with s/os teacher who doesnt treat them right

Raising a teenage child

Darling who has separation anxiety

Soft S/o whos tall and buff

Feral Headcannons

Shy, Awkward reader

Bat quirk S/o

Miruko & Hawks x reader Headcannons

Preening S/os wings

S/o who has self harm scars on their legs TW

S/os scared of birds

Hero s/o hates the hero commissions

S/o has a affectionate pet bird thats a little shit to keigo

Foreigner that hardly speaks japanese

Shy S/o thats scared of his wings

S/os cat loves hunting/playing with his wings

Yandere alphabet K,P,T

Yandere alphabet A,D,E,L 

Hunted down

Overhaul

S/o who has a body pillow of him

Trying to get him on a normal date

Angel

S/o whose power ultimately harms them

Darling ends up pregnant because of him

raising a child

S/o is as much of a clean freak as he is

Yandere Alphabet: A,B,I,K,W

Calling him a crow because of his looks

Escaping with Eri

S/o is a escape artist

Naga Overhaul

Kaminari

S/o scared theyll get zapped if they touch him

S/o who loves affection but is shy about PDA

Using him as a shield against socializing with others

Finding out S/o is Kirishimas sibling

S/o who isnt given gifts often

Werewolf

HC

Yandere Alphabet: A,B,J,W

S/o who loves him just as much

Would denki hurt anyone or punish his S/o

Sero

Darling confessing their love to him

Yandere Alphabet: A,K,S,R,T

Tokoyami

Finding out S/o goes out to feed cats with Aizawa and Shinsou

S/o going out of their way to spend time with them

Cuddling HC

Crush is Bakugos sister

Iida

Finding out S/o wonders out at night

Jealous HC

Koda

S/o who also has a animal quirk

Miruko

Chubby S/o

Miruko & Hawks x reader Headcannons

Nejire

Headcannons

Jirou

Headcannons

Mina Ashido

Headcannons

Inko Midoriya

Headcannons

Introducing deku to their new sibling w/ s/o

Average day with her

Haunted house

Rei Todoroki

Headcannons

Soft and quiet darling

Introducing her new child w/ s/o

Calm S/o yelling for the first time

Aoyama

Protective S/o

S/o likes his french

Deku

NS FW alphabet

Submissive 

Naga Izuku 

Praise Kink & Sugar Mommy S/o

Aizawa

NS FW HC

Werewolf Aizawa + Breeding 

Feral 

Incubus 

Neko s/o going into heat Ropework 

Favorite Position & Breeding kink 

Poly Erasermic

Poly Incubus EraserMic w/ S/o 

Todoroki

NS FW alphabet

Orgasm control, BDSM

Dabi

NON-CON + Incubus Dabi TW

End of the world + Breeding 

Poly Dabi/hawks

Poly Incubus Dabi/Hawks w/ S/o 

Shiguraki

Favorite Position 

Praise/Body Worship 

Tamaki

Sugar Daddy & One thing that would instantly turn them on

Hawks

Cockwarming and creampieing 

S/o likes it rough slightly 

Breeding/Heat HC 

Using his Feathers as a form of bondage 

Breeding season 

Extra Heat HC 

Male S/o First Time & Corruption

Overhaul

Virgin S/o 

Kaminari

Using his quirk during sex 

Inko Midoriya

Lingerie & Bodyworship 

Rei Todoroki

Foreplay Headcannons 

[yndrgrl]

Could u do a aizawa fic pls

you found a new job under yandere! aizawa as a nanny for his cute kid

age gap. quirkless! au. soft! yandere. dom! aizawa

warning: nsfw, stalking, smacking/slapping, slight coercion??, punishment, daddy kink, sir kink, creampie

a/n: yayyy, first request 🥳 idk if you wanted a fluff or spicy fanfic... so i chose spicy haha. also sorry for taking so long, i just started a new job :0

---

it was a chance encounter, you truly believed. your first year of college just came to a close, & now you had too much free time while the money in your bank account was slowly declining. even if you saved as much as possible, you'd still end up spending all of your money then you'd have to dip into your savings account-- something that you didn't want to do.

so that began your search for a job. you used websites, applied in-person. you thought your resume was solid enough to land a job by now. but no. even though they claimed they were desperately hiring, they never hired you. some had the curtesy to at least let you know that they weren't going to go with you; the rest completely ghosted you. from receptionist to substitute teacher to bank teller, they all rejected you.

it was extremely frustrating to go through the interviewing process then you were ultimately rejected. it was as if someone had it out for you.

that chance encounter happened while you were on the phone with your best friend. you sat at a small round table in a cafe you frequent often.

"i just don't get it, jirou!" you exasperated, taking a sip from your drink. you let out a heavy sigh. with how much effort you've put into finding a new job, you should've been paid.

"i'm sure momo's dad has a job for you," the girl on the other line tried to assure. she was on her daily jog, so she was slightly out of breath as she spoke.

with your face propped in your hand, you responded, "we already tried. all the available positions are for people with like, actual degrees or something. besides, we're not close enough for her to make a whole new job for me."

"i'm sure a job will fall right into your lap," jirou said, rustles of clothes being picked up in the phone microphone. in some sort of messed-up irony, she was getting ready for work. the universe just loved toying with you.

you took a breath in to exclaim how much you needed the money, needed a job, when a man pulled out the chair across from your table. "i'm sorry, i don't mean to be rude & eavesdrop," he began, catching your attention.

"sorry jirou, i'll call you back in just a sec," you whispered, then you hung up. "um, sorry, can i help you?" you took mental note of his appearance-- you know, just in case something happens in this very public, very populated cafe.

just by looks, you'd assume he was in his early thirties. his jet black hair was tied into a bun, stray strands framing his face. there were bags under his eyes-- along with a noticeable scar under his left one. though his disheveled appearance, he took care of himself; his stubble was even & maintained. his shirt was tight around his arms & his chest, & you could faintly make out the shape of his muscles. & god, were they big. he was alluring, with that slight smirk of his.

he would've intimidated you, maybe even set off red flags if he didn't have a toddler bouncing on his leg, tugging his hair out of its bun. she bubbled words & strung together incoherent sentences in beg of attention of her dad.

"i apologize again, i really didn't mean to eavesdrop," he repeated. "it's just i couldn't help but overhear you were looking for a job?"

"yes!" you exclaimed, clearing your throat with an embarrassed blush on your face. "i am looking for a job."

"are you interested in being a live-in nanny for my little girl?"

it was a chance encounter, you truly believed.

the job & its perks were almost too perfect, but you're not complaining. you got to move into the basement of his suburban home for free, he would cook you breakfast & make sure the fridge & cabinets were well-stocked. for nearly $25 an hour, you were living the dream.

eri, his -adoptive- daughter, was an absolute gem as well. she was a cheery toddler who loves life. she's not a picky eater, she loves picking out her own outfits, & if you turned off her show, she would pout for a little bit then bounce back for the next activity. never once has she screamed & shouted. she would cling onto her father almost all the time when he was home.

speaking of her father, you learned his name was shota aizawa, so, naturally, you call him mr. aizawa or sir. he would constantly ask you would other things you wanted, not needed. he would take you shopping, calling it a bonus. your living area was decorated, & you didn't even have to pay a dime! there were times where you felt more like a sugar baby than a nanny, in all honesty.

not that you minded. one look at him & you could already feel your heart beat quicken. maybe it was your daddy issues that just scream when you choose a guy you're into, but he was exactly your type. he's protective, yet soft. strong, yet humble.

you thought you hid your crush on him quite well, treating him as though he were any other person. sometimes you felt like he knew you were so utterly attracted to him.

"y/n," he called out, drawing you out of thought.

"u-uh yes sir?" you replied. you were dressed down still as it was the morning. he just finished breakfast & eri was fast asleep, bound to wake up at any moment. it was just the two of you.

"are you okay?" he asked. aizawa awaited for your answer while he plated your breakfast. he always insisted so you learned to let him.

as he walked towards you with your plate, you answered, "yeah, i'm okay."

he set down the plate in front of you from behind. aizawa bent over so his head was leveled with yours. both of his arms encased you, & if it weren't for the back of your chair, you would've been pressed against his chest. "are you sure?" he whispered into your ear. "i'm hear to listen, if you'd let me."

you turned your head to look at him because, somewhere in your strange logic, you thought it would've reduced the tension & made you less embarrassed. it did the opposite.

the tips of your noses touched, his lips only a few centimeters from yours. with half-lidded eyes, the way he looked at you made you quiver. you tried to create space between the two of you, only for your head to meet his arm. centimeters turned to an inch of space. "i-i am okay," you repeated.

"aw, don't lie to me," he said in teasing voice, but you could've been imagining it. "i know it's been hard, tell me about it~" you never would've thought he would have this amount of confidence-- mainly because, if he did, he should've been bringing home loads of women.

"i-i, it's just, um," you stumbled over your words. he had a smirk, amused. his eyes glanced down to your glossy, shaky lips, then back into your doe eyes, just waiting.

"daddy," eri called from the top of the staircase.

"y/n," he whispered.

"y-yes, mr. a-aizawa?"

"eat your food before it gets cold." & with that, he pulled away from you, sauntering upstairs to grab eri. left stunned, you picked at your food.

oh, how you loved telling your friends about how hot your boss is.

after that incident, you had to tell all your friends about it, so, during your guys' weekly, weekend, late night group facetime.

"oh, my god!" uraraka squealed. "you HAVE to tell us more."

"yeah, that's literally so hot," jirou laughed. "see! you found a perfect job."

you had your phone propped against some random bottle as you snuck into the kitchen to fix yourself something to eat. another thing about eri is that, once she's asleep, nothing is waking that girl up. as for aizawa, he's usually up doing something else-- which explains the bags under his eyes & his scheduled naps.

while you dumped your noodles into a pot of boiling water, you said into your phone, "i'm not even exaggerating, it was the hottest thing to ever happen to me."

giggles erupted from your phone. "well, to be fair, you haven't had much luck with guys in the past," mina stated. it was true. while you were in high school -& this past year of college- you really didn't connect with any guys.

"maybe the problem was that they were all her age," joked jirou. hysterical laughter followed after. you were bent over, trying to catch your breath.

"that's not true! i could go for guys our age," you tried to defend yourself.

"okay, let's name every single one of your crushes ever," tsu said, her camera angle only showing her eyes.

all the other girls started to spit out whoever they could think of.

"remember keigo? he was like, 2 years older than us," momo said.

"that's not even that bad," you rolled your eyes, stirring your noodles & adding the seasoning packet.

"oh yeah?" jirou challenged, "what about shoto-"

"he's our age!" you cut her off to save yourself the embarrassment. "besides i didn't even like him."

"yeah cuz you liked his DAD," jirou finished, to which even more bowls of laughter erupted. okay, maybe you did have a thing for older guys.

"oh wow, y/n, i didn't know you had a thing for older guys," a voice spoke from behind you. you jumped, letting out a yelp.

your phone blasted all of your friends' laughter until you grabbed your phone & hung up. "o-oh hey, sir," you stuttered out. you hid your phone behind your back as if you were caught doing something wrong. you felt your phone vibrate, your friends begging to be on call again. "how much did you hear?"

"not much," shrugged aizawa as he grabbed a glass cup from the cabinet above you. that's when you realized how warm he was, how flushed his face was, how messy his hair fell. that's when you realized he was wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants & a small towel around his neck.

"wh-what are you doing up," you coughed, taking in his physic-- just for a second, of course. veins protruded up his muscular biceps down his forearms. his pecs were in front of your face. they were well-toned. his washboard abs rose with every breath he took. you let yourself quickly -& ever so sneakily- glance downward. smaller veins & a trail of black hair were like arrows, pointing down his sweatpants. you gulped. was it normal to have a bulge that big-

"you know, it's rude to stare, y/n," aizawa whispered in your ear before pulling away. he walked toward the fridge that had a water dispenser attached to the freezer door. "i just need a cup of water after my workout," he answered in his regular voice to her question.

"oh, nice, nice," you said. a tense, awkward silence followed afterwards. "i-i'm sorry, i didnt mean to," you swallowed, "stare."

"right, i'm sure." & with that said, he left upstairs to get ready for bed.

aizawa loved teasing cute, little you. how could he not? your reactions were simply priceless. your face would get pink while you tried desperately to hide your embarrassment. your skittish eyes darted around the room just to avoid eye contact.

you weren't going to speak up because he knew that you "secretly" loved it. you'd probably make some lame excuse to defend yourself. you'd say, "well i'll let it slide just this once because i really need this job." which was the truth, it just wasn't the entire truth. aizawa knew though. he knew how much you craved his closeness.

he loves teasing you, but he's not a monster.

that's why he whispers in your ear, caging you between him & some other surface. he fed into your fantasies while fueling his own.

he thinks about you. all the time. more than you'll ever know.

what you believed to be a chance encounter was -in fact- a calculated, perfectly-executed plan concocted by aizawa. you might've never noticed him until he introduced himself, but you're so eye catching; it was only natural for him to notice you.

at first, he cursed himself to the moon & back for being attracted to someone ten years younger than him. you're only twenty-three, why is he so charmed by you?

determined to find a fault in your character, he learned your daily routine, find your social handles, grasping at anything. he was expecting to find out that maybe you're so much of an alcoholic that you practically live at a bar or that you have eighteen children with twelve different guys. but no, he found nothing terrible about you.

all of your habits he found adorable-- especially the face you make when you're frustrated. he would watch from afar as you grunted & groaned at your laptop screen. the day at the cafe he figured out why you were so upset lately.

that's why he offered you the job, out of the kindness of his heart. no other reason.

he just wanted to make sure that you stay happy & safe, which is why he installed secret cameras in the basement before you moved in.

he loved to tease you. he loved to rile you up.

he'd tease you so badly that you -at the dead of night- spread you legs wide towards the camera & play with yourself with your fingers, moaning desperately for him. all while aizawa watched you.

tonight was different though because, with the money he gave you, you bought yourself something new. tonight, you had a bright pink vibrator stimulate your clit while your eyes rolled back in ecstasy. aizawa was offended, in all honesty. it was almost like you were mocking him.

he could do better than some toy. you should've known that. he was angry, aroused, & ready to make his move.

you were unsuspecting. usually you were hyper-aware of your surroundings when you masterbated, scared of getting caught. however, this was your first time using a vibrator, & god, it felt so good. you've never experienced anything like it before. blood rushed to your ears as you could only listen to the vibrations & your choked-back moans.

aizawa crept down the stairs, into your basement. the floorboards would creak as a warning, but they fell on deaf ears. he opened the door to the basement, sneaking in. the only light that was on was a dimly lit lamp from your room. "ngh, ah." he heard your muffled moans, & his cock twitched in anticipation.

he bursted through the door, making you jump back & pull the closest thing over the bottom half of yourself. "s-sir! i-is something wrong?" you asked in a high-pitched voice as you tried to calm yourself down.

he gave you a glare, & you felt like you were in trouble, preparing for some sort of punishment. even though you didn't do anything wrong, it was him who barged in. "what. the fuck. do you think you're doing?" he seethed, closing the bedroom door. you were exposed, your juices so clearly staining your sheets.

"wh-what are you talking about-"

"don't give me that, y/n. you've been such a bad girl," he growled. aizawa stalked closer towards you as you gulped.

"n-no i haven't, i don't know what you mean, sir," you managed to say, watching him walk to the side of your bed.

"what were you doing then, hm?" he questioned with a mocking smirk. "tell me. i'd hate to do something brash over a misunderstanding."

"i-i was just laying down," you lied. he was standing at the edge of your bed, & you turned towards him. your gaze was met with his aching bulge, & you gushed all over your bed once more. you tried covering up the squelching with a yawn. "i-i'm kinda tired, you know." you were still staring at his crotch, licking your lips subconsciously.

suddenly, his hand shot to your face, his palm covering your mouth while his thumb & middle finger dug into your cheeks. "don't lie to me~ you were touching yourself, weren't you? using a dirty toy while you thought about me, hm?" you tried shaking your head but he grasped harder, making you still. "i said, don't fuckin' lie to me." he made you nod your head yes while you look up into his lusted eyes.

"you're such a bad girl, & you should know that i don't tolerate any kind of bad behavior," he informed, his gaze never breaking away from yours. "i'm going to sit down, & you're going to lay belly-down on my lap, alright, baby?"

you shook your head no once again, embarrassed. you knew that, the moment you would do that, he would catch you. after all, from the waist down, you had no clothing. "no?" he repeated in an almost sing-songy voice. "no?"

it happened so fast. one minute you were disobeying him, the next you were on his lap, just as he wanted. the baggy crop top rode up the arch of your back, & now you were practically naked -ass up- on your boss' lap. you buried your face into your messy duvet. you felt your core leak onto your inner thighs, hoping aizawa didn't notice your arousal. he did though; he loved it.

his fingers stroked your pussy as he slurred, "what a naughty girl, gettin' wet for me. y'know how much older i am, don't ya?"

you nodded your head, dripping onto his fingers.

"& ya still want me?"

you nodded, this time with a small squeak. he pulled your head back with his other hand entangled in your hair. "what was that, baby?"

"y-yes," you whispered out, hyperfixated on his fingers that teased you.

"yes what?"

"yes, i-i want you, sir," you moaned out. his middle finger ghosted over your clit, & you jolted closer to him for more friction.

"aww, you're so cute," he purred as he let go of your hair, allowing you to fall back into your bed. "it's a shame that you were so impatient though," he said with faux pity, "i have to punish you."

"no, please," you whined. "that's not fair!"

"not fair? oh darling, you brought this on yourself," he laughed. aizawa drew his hand away from your aching pussy, much to your dismay. the hand came back down, thrashing your ass cheek. you let out a muffled scream into your blanket as you were pushed forward with his force.

"what's wrong, y/n? can't handle a bit of spanking?"

"n-no! i-i want you... i-inside of me," you stuttered out with a red-tinted cheeks.

"aww, do you?"

you nodded eagerly. he, in response, growled lowly, "you're going to learn your lesson. i don't want to hear anymore whining. you're going to be my good girl, & take it, right?"

you just nodded again.

smack!

"i said, you're going to be a good girl for me, aren't you?"

"y-yes, sir!"

smack!

you let out a moan, looking back at him with teary eyes. you wanted an explanation why he spanked you again. you did everything right, didn't you? you were a good girl.

"you didn't apologize."

"i-i'm s-so sorry, daddy," you gasped out, then tried to explain why you called him that. "i-i didn't-"

smack!

"you're going to keep calling me that, right?"

"y-yes, daddy." your ass stung bright red, & you felt the tingling sensation as the blood rushed to your asscheeks. aizawa let his hand graze over you, squeezing you ever so slightly.

"sit up, & look at me, y/n," he commanded in a softer tone than before. mindlessly & eagerly, you sat up onto his lap. one hand gripped on your hip while the other was placed behind your back. you wrapped your arms around his neck to stay sitting up. he leaned in for a kiss, lips pressed against your plush ones. with the hand behind your back, he glided his nails over your back.

his tongue slid over your bottom lip before invading your mouth. you let out a moan as he kissed you. he was the one to pull away, you unconsciously leaned into him for another kiss. you were snapped out of your lust when he dove into your neck, nipping & kissing all over. between hickeys, he whispered, "see? good girls get a reward."

you just let out breathless moans. your arms were still around his neck while he lowered you onto the bed. "baby, i don't ever wanna punish you again," aizawa lied, slipping your crop top over your head before throwing it on the floor. he took of his shirt, chuckling when he saw how pink your ears got. "you know why i had to punish you though, don't you?"

"y-yes, i do, d-daddy," you stuttered out. it was hard to focus while he dragged his tongue over your body. he bit your collarbone, sucked on your tits, kissed down your torso. it was all so distracting.

"why did i have to punish you, y/n?"

"because i-i was p-playing with myself without y-your permission," you told him, sighs in between every word. you don't know how or when your legs were over his shoulders, & you didn't notice until he spoke.

every annunciation blew warm air to your throbbing heat. "such a smart girl, y/n~" he praised, his onyx eyes locking with your doe eyes. you didn't have to say anything, he could tell by your facial expressions how badly you needed him. he kitten-licked your pussy; it was so little, yet you couldn't help but squeak in delight.

"oh, my god," you moaned out, throwing your head back as he began to lap your juices. he groaned as his tongue flicked your clit.

"you taste so fuckin' good, baby," he uttered, diving back for more.

"thank you, daddy," you said, you didn't even know if he still wanted to punish you, but there was a chance that he did, & you didn't want this to stop.

"good girl."

he stimulated your clit with his tongue while three fingers pumped in & out of your hole. he pulled away from your pussy for a second, demanding, "look at me when you cum, got it?"

"yes d-daddy!" you yelled out, self-restraint turning into the opposite. a pressure built inside your core, threatening to pop at any second. you looked down, tears of pleasure & neediness rolling down your pink cheeks. "i-i'm gonna cum. please keep going, i'm gonna cum!" you let out a string of pleads & moans as you came all over aizawa's face.

he stood up, slipping off his pants & boxers. he kicked them away as he towered over you. he was standing on the edge of the bed while you lied with your legs spread. "you want me, y/n? you really want me?" he asked because if you wanted him to stop, he would. if you wanted him to do anything, he'd do it.

"i really want you," you said as sincerely as someone who just climaxed could say anything. "i-i just don't want this to be a one-time thing," you admitted.

he laughed, lining his cock with your entrance as he stroked your cheek with his thumb. "trust me, baby. this is not a one-time thing, i'm so addicted to you, y/n. you don't even know." he finished his short-lived speech by shoving his girthy dick into your cunt, & you remembered just how dominate aizawa was. you let out a scream due to the pain, unexpectedness, & utter pleasure you got all in a single moment.

his thrusts were soft & slow at first. you could feel every inch leave then plunge back into your weeping hole. "d-d-daddy, you're so big," you moaned while you wrapped your arms around his neck.

his pace picked up, hips jerking against you. your tits jiggled with every thrust, claps every time he went back inside you. he abused your sensitive g-spot, ramming himself in & out of you. your hands unraveled themselves around his neck, your nails digging into his muscular back. you let out babbles how you couldn't take it, how you were going stupid, & how you were going to cum. he groaned in response, "if you're saying anything other than daddy or more, shut your fuckin' mouth & take it like a good girl."

"n-ngh, ahhh, yesss daddy," you slurred, eyes rolling to the back of your head. you wanted him to slow down so you could think again, but you liked being mindless, you liked how you didn't have the energy or will power to think about anything in this fucked-up world. all that mattered in that moment was you, aizawa, & how good the two of you felt.

"you're so fuckin' beautiful, baby," he groaned, he couldn't help but compliment you. how could he not? you looked even better pinned under him than he imagined. "so tight for me."

"please let c-cum with me, daddy," you begged. he didn't respond for a second, & you started to doubt yourself.

"wh-where," he groaned out, thrusts becoming rough & sloppy.

"what?"

he was losing composure. "where do you want me to cum?"

"inside," you answered quickly, wrapping your legs around his waist. you felt like you were in control now. "i-i want you inside of me when i cum all over your cock, d-daddy~"

"y/n. don't say stupid shit," he warned, knowing damn well he'd fold in an instant. you kept moaning with every thrust, begging for him to cum.

"p-please~ daddy, i deserve it. i-i've been a good girl," you whimpered. you jutted your bottom lip in a pout & tried to give your best puppy-dog eyes. every thrust he could see you twitch in pleasure, your expression couldn't hide how much you were enjoying this.

"fuckin' brat," he scowled. he watched you as you figured out how much power you truly have over him. he couldn't blame you for extorting it because that's what he did to you. at the end of the day though, you won.

he became sloppy & fast. his cock twitched inside of you when he saw your slutty expression-- tongue hanging out of your mouth, cheeks red, tears running down your face, eyes begging. & it was all because of him, how he fucked you. he was the cause of such a beautiful thing. finally, with a single thrust, he buried himself deep within you, cumming.

whiteness painted your insides while you came around him, clenching his twitching prick. "a-aizawa!" you screamed out in pure ecstasy.

deep breathes, panting, & sighs of content followed afterwards. he slipped out of your gaping hole, his sperm leaking out of your pussy. he climbed into your bed, coddling you. you were still shaky, senses heighten. you placed your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat slow.

he pulled the covers over the two of you. aizawa said while massaging your scalp, "you okay, baby?"

"mhm," you hummed, "i-i just never been fucked like that before."

he laughed, then kissed the top of your head. "i promise that this won't be the last time, y/n. i'm all yours." though he didn't say it, he was thinking, besides, guys your age won't know what to do with a bad girl like you.

[35c4p15t]

Forgiveness

Yandere x Reader E.g. Shouta Aizawa, Kai Chisaki (BNHA), Suguru Geto (JJK) CW: yandere, abuse and neglect, implied kidnapping, implied developing of Stockholm syndrome

You were so tired. Arms burning due to being tied to the wall over your head, eyes itchy from the tears now staining your cheeks, throat raw after crying and screaming, legs aching as a result of being forced to stand for hours upon hours. This was your fault; you should have known he would react unfavorably, but you were so angry, confused, disgusted… you had lashed out without thinking. Maybe that was why he had put you here, alone in a cold, bare room- to make you think.

How long had you been here? He was probably watching, somehow. At first, you had continued shouting obscenities, hurling insults, thrashing. All of which achieved nothing but the painful state you were now in. Then, you'd just cried. About being taken, being trapped, being powerless. Thinking was the only option left. Did he want you to apologise? Plead with him? Beg for forgiveness? Another tear fell. You didn't think you had any left.

“… I-I'm…" It hurt to speak, dehydrated and sore. “I'm sorry… P-please… let me out…" A moment passed with no response. If you still could, you would have started crying again. Instead, you hung your head, defeated. It was hard to breathe, but harder to care.

Another minutes or so passes, though it feels longer, before he enters the room. His steady footsteps get closer, but you don't lift your head. Out the corner of your eyes, you see his feet. He cups your cheek with unexpected tenderness, forcing you to look at him while he stares at you pensively, evaluating your condition. Seemingly finding whatever he was looking for, he careful removes his hand from your head to untie your arms, maneuvering them around his shoulders so he could gently lower you to the floor, knowing your legs were close to giving out. Propped against the wall, muscles sore but finally able to rest, you watched as he picked up a water bottle previously out of eyeshot, unscrewed the lid, and held it up to your chapped lips. “Drink." Parched and desperate not to upset him again, you obeyed. The cool water soothed your throat and you closed your eyes in relief. Upon quenching your thirst, you opened your eyes, and he pulled the bottle away from you before sliding one arm under your knees and the other under your back, standing up with you in his embrace.

He carries you to the bed, you almost miss his strong arms after he places you on the plush sheets. Leaning over you, he appeared almost… angelic; robust, attractive, assured; he had freed you, forgiven you, and assisted you. “I did it for you. To teach you." His tone is soft yet confident, words holding implications you can't completely comprehend, but don't want to- you understand enough. So close his scent is all you can smell. Despite everything, you like it.

Heartbeats and breathing fill the silence. He stares at you, unmoving, expecting something. Compelled by your tired mind yearning for rest, security, and comfort, you lift your head- ignoring your screaming muscles- almost unnoticeably hesitating before pressing your lips to his. It's chaste, and he doesn't react. Your head drops soon after contact, returning his gaze with unsure, worried eyes until he smiles, satisfied, victorious. Relieved, your eyes slide shut, waiting for sleep to envelop you. Breath tickles your ear, and you resist the urge to jerk in surprise, but your heart begins to race. “Today could have been much worse. Be grateful I'm so forgiving." His lips meet your cheek, lingering before he finally stands, allowing you some reprieve from his overwhelming presence. Slumber claims you as tears wet the corner of your eyes.

[sundeathh]

Just three words. ✨ Soft Yandere Aizawa✨

Okay, this one was in my inbox for a very long time. So first of all, sorry for the long delay. Second: before proceeding, please read what I want to tell you: I am not particularly into Yandere narratives. Besides, I had trouble picturing Aizawa's character in this specific scenario because I don't see his character as one that would act as a Yandere. So, I am sorry if this sucks or if it isn't exactly what you asked for. I tried my best to place him into a Yandere narrative without losing his character essence.

.

Masterlist | NSFW / + 18 only

Pairing: Aizawa × Reader | Words: 2 K

Tags: SFW/NSFW, soft Yandere themes, headcanon.

cw: Stockholm syndrome.

- SFW part -

You caught Aizawa's attention with your unique and powerful quirk. Aizawa becomes fascinated by your abilities as a vigilante and sees your true potential as a hero.

During his patrols, he would frequently encounter you, your paths occasionally crossing as you both maintained the peace and protected others. Aizawa's initial interest in you is sparked mainly by your skill and dedication, further developing into a genuine admiration for your abilities.

His fascination with you would grow more over time, and as an expert in stealth and surveillance, he would subtly observe you from a distance. He would track your routine and patrols, skillfully remaining undetected in the shadows. 

Though he kept telling himself that he would meet with you "occasionally," his true intention was to keep a close eye on you, gaining further insight into your personality, strengths, and weaknesses.

And on a fateful day, a villain attack left your quirk temporarily weakened, rendering you vulnerable and unable to defend yourself effectively. So, Aizawa doesn't think twice before intervening, saving you from further harm.

Recognizing your injuries and weakened state, he would then convince you to seek refuge and protection with him, assuring you that he would take care of your wounds.

This accident catalyzes his plan to keep you close. He didn't even need to kidnap you! But, if you had not suffered the attack, though, maybe he would fake one anyway. He would be subtle. 

Once you were in Aizawa's custody, he would treat you with surprising gentleness, providing genuine care and ensuring your well-being. He understands the importance of earning your trust and making you feel safe in his presence. 

So, he would never restrain you. Instead, Aizawa would keep you locked in a comfortable space, his actions driven by his desire to gain your trust and affection. He is cautious not to cause you unnecessary harm or distress.

However, you would inevitably become resistant to the situation, yearning for freedom and wary of Aizawa's motives.

And he would try his best to respect your boundaries and acknowledge your desire to escape, but he would maintain a firm stance in preventing your departure. 

He would make you stay through subtle manipulation and persuasive tactics. He would never use aggressive force, even if you tried to escape aggressively.

He would only erase your quirk and evade your attacks until you were tired of fighting but would never attack you back.

Aizawa would constantly try to balance his desires toward you and your autonomy.

And as time passed, Aizawa's genuine care and occasional displays of vulnerability created a complicated mix of emotions within you. While you may not fully reciprocate his feelings, you begin to recognize a genuine connection and understanding with him.

But tension would inevitably rise as your desire for freedom clashes with Aizawa's determination to keep you close. Anyway, he continues to demonstrate acts of kindness and understanding even when you call him names or tries to attack, only to be left tired again without causing him any scratch.

As he pursues your affection, Aizawa may go out of his way to fulfill your needs and show you a softer side. He would attempt to break down your resistance through carefully thought acts of kindness.

He pays attention to the more discreet details, providing you with your favorite meals, engaging you in conversations about your interests, and even bringing you books or movies you might enjoy; Though these gestures are not grandiose, they display subtle moments of care that eventually begin to form a foundation of trust.

With gestures and conversations, Aizawa allows glimpses of his softer side to shine: During quiet evenings together, he shares stories from his past, revealing vulnerabilities and personal struggles he faced.

He would try to create a space where you felt safe to open up, fostering an environment of mutual understanding and empathy. He would encourage you to voice out your worries and distresses, even though he would get quiet and avoid the topic of letting you go.

Over time, he aimed to create an emotional bond based on trust and shared experiences. Through acts of gentleness and patience, he hoped to impress you and demonstrate his capabilities as a protector and a provider.

Aizawa is patient and aware that your journey toward reciprocating his feelings will take time. He also recognizes the importance of granting you space for self-reflection and growth. So he would do everything you asked: leave you alone, bring you some specific food, not talk to you, or to talk to you, tell you a story, listen to you, anything, except for letting you out.

However, Aizawa is not without his internal struggles. He battles with his conscience, questioning the ethics of his actions. He grapples with the conflict between his genuine care for you; and the fact that your relationship began under non-consensual circumstances.

The turning point in your relationship arrives when you start to see glimpses of Aizawa's vulnerability: He shares his fears, his insecurities, and his past failures, exposing his humanity and flaws.

And it is through these shared vulnerabilities you begin to connect with Aizawa on a deeper level, seeing him as more than just your captor but as a complex individual with genuine emotions.

And as your bond deepens, Aizawa becomes even more attuned to your emotional shifts and moods. He learns to anticipate your needs and provide stability and support. During moments of vulnerability or distress, he offers a comforting presence – allowing you to lean on him for solace and reassurance.

Gradually, your resistance toward him begins to wane, replaced by a complex mix of emotions. You may find yourself drawn to Aizawa's unwavering dedication to making you comfortable and cared for, seeing how the genuine connection you have developed over time.

However, remnants of your initial resistance may linger, reminding you of the complex dynamics that brought you together. Anyway, Aizawa remains committed to maintaining a delicate balance. He respects your autonomy and your desire for freedom, yet he also nurtures your affection for him.

- NSFW part -

He would never sexually touch you without your consent. However, he would indeed stare at you intensely sometimes, but he wouldn't do more than that. And, when you would catch a sigh of him ogling your body, he would immediately turn his vision away with his face bright red. 

He admires your body with great appreciation. He would not comment on that for fear of making you uncomfortable, but he frequently wondered what you had under the clothes he provided to you;

He often imagined what it would feel like beneath all those clothes, the skin underneath, and the curve of your waist. His body would ache from wanting more than just that sight.

While he would not allow physical contact, he would fantasize about being able to explore every inch of your body. And so, he would always find ways to sneak glances or peek inside your room.

His mind would wander as he envisioned you naked and spread open for his perusal, feeling aroused at the possibility that he could possess you, even if you weren't aware of it.

In those fantasies, he would gently caress the parts of your body he desired most. Carefully, he would trace each contour, savoring the sensation of feeling your softness in his palms, tracing circles against your inner thighs, lingering over your stomach, chest, and shoulders. 

His imagination would then drift off, imagining scenarios where you would finally allow him access to pleasure, and make him feel complete, finally satisfied, leaving him weak and limp.

He often fantasizes about you having sex with him, giving yourself freely as you would take his hands in yours, guiding him through your soft body, kissing him with passion;

When your lips parted, he would eagerly follow you until he could kiss you again. And, when finished, he would pull you into his arms, burying his face into your neck, breathing deeply in your scent.

Then, when you finally started to see him beyond your captor, he would always be surprised by any small show of affection coming from you. For example, he would be speechless if you gave him a simple peck on the cheek. 

Or, when you started to smile at him, he would be ecstatic. Sometimes, you would give him a pat on the arm; or maybe a rub on the back when he would open up to you.

And once you saw past his walls and started to develop a mix of feelings toward him: he could tell. You would smile more and look at him differently.

Sometimes he would look at you and smile, knowing that you were starting to have feelings for him because you were changing. 

You would not flinch away when he would touch your hand anymore and wouldn't mind if he sat close to you. Sometimes, you would even lean against him when he was around. 

The first time you kissed him on the lips was when he was upset with you for wanting your freedom. It was sweet and passionate, conveying a sense of safety and warmth. You wanted him to know that you did want to be free, but you weren't sure if you wanted to leave him anymore. You had started to find comfort in your surroundings while living with Aizawa. 

And as time passed, you eventually realized how attractive he seemed to you. You noticed his sharp features, his sharp gaze, his hair, and the curves of his toned body. 

You became fascinated with how his eyes would light up when he talked with you. And then, you would find yourself leaning closer, wanting more. 

You also got bolder, teasing him as you explore your new boundaries. Your physical intimacy drastically improved as you opened up and trusted him more. He then started taking risks, going further, initiating physical contact, and exploring those new boundaries.

In turn, you enjoyed the new closeness that came with a change in atmosphere, a strange yet good feeling of security and belonging.

It was this sense of closeness that prompted you both into the process of bonding. You slowly became more intimate, and it started to feel natural for the two of you.

One day, when you were enjoying a peaceful evening together, he reached behind you and gently started playing with your strands of hair as you rested your head in his lap. 

As he played with them, he brushed against your ear, throat, and collarbone. Then, he stopped. He let out a frustrated sigh before pulling you close and planting small kisses over your cheeks, chin, brow, eyelids, nose, forehead, and mouth. And then you were lost in an instant of pure bliss.

You couldn't remember exactly when it happened. All you knew was that you had only a few moments of clarity and could see what was happening, feeling the heat rising within you.

He would always ask you if he should stop or ask for permission to go further whenever you flinched. But you rarely did that, so he would continue doing whatever pleased the both of you.

He would gently massage your shoulder blades and back. His hands would then hold onto your waist. Sometimes, you would feel his lips on your neck, trailing down, sucking on the sensitive skin, and leaving tiny hickeys.

He liked to mark you, but he would be gentle on how he would do it. He'd start with tiny nips and suckles, then gradually go down until he got close to where he wanted most.

Afterward, he would kiss you harder and deeper, trying and succeeding in eliciting a good reaction from you. The longer he would go on, the hotter you would get.

As time progressed and you became really intimate, he would fuck you with no shame, giving you more pleasure than ever before until you moaned his name. You would gasp and squirm, and he would always ensure you climaxed every. Single. Time.

He would shiver every time he heard you moan his name. He didn't know why, but it always caused a deep excitement in his chest and heart.

He would come undone in seconds as you called out his name. And then he would hold you tight, whispering soothing words as you continued gasping and moaning in delight for a while after.

Eventually, you started to love that sound and how he felt pleasure from just your touch and noises.

And soon, you realized that nothing would prevent you from loving him back.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! Check the fixed post for requests & more details!