#yandere aizawa x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghoularaki · 1 year

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bound to you

commission for @soranihimawari <3

↠ word count: 2,567

↠ pairing: aizawa shouta x reader

↠ genre/warnings: smut, canonverse, yandere! aizawa, aizawa kidnapped the reader but she’s kinda into it lol. NSFW (bdsm, bondage, inappropriate capture weapon usage lol, bratting, oral sex/throat fucking, unprotected sex)

You had grown oddly comfortable in the situation presented to you. At first you had abhorred the man that confined you to this home. Though as the days blended together, you welcomed the mundaneness. You thought of the positives: at least you were taken in by a person you knew and not a complete stranger.

The history between you and Aizawa was fleeting. It was nothing more than you both going to the same school, you were a support student while he was working his way to being a hero. You were a first year and he was a third year, on his way to graduating. Of course a man like him didn’t have time for someone so seemingly insignificant. Like any other school girl with a crush, you watched from a distance. Notebooks filled with scenarios of him sweeping you off your feet, but it was nothing more than that. As the years flew by, those childish daydreams had floated away from your mind.

Aizawa was a thing of your past. Until he wasn’t. After he saved you from a low profile villain that robbed the coffee shop you ran, his face was something you saw frequently. He used the excuse of needing his daily dose of caffeine. You smiled at him, choosing not to point out you didn’t need to know why he came to your store. Everyone needed coffee, especially with the busy schedule he ran.

Once a week turned into a couple times a week until it blended into him coming multiple times a day. At first you were freaked out at how sometimes he wouldn’t even order anything, he would just sit and stare at you almost like if he didn’t watch you, you would disappear. Like you were a figment of his imagination.

It shouldn’t have come to a surprise when one day you had woken up in his apartment, thankfully still clothed, instead of your own. You tried to bargain with him that you had a life too, but every plea was met with a blank look he would give his students. Aizawa was a stubborn man and no matter how much you tried to break his steel exterior, it was futile.

As time passed, you grew bored of being a doll locked up in a playhouse. Despite this, Aizawa wasn’t an unreasonable man, if you behaved he let you go outside as long as you were with him. Though your coffee shop had to be closed down. How could you run a business when the store could only be open for maybe three hours out of the day, at most.

At least life was a lot more simple—not easy—simple. You had rules to abide by and Aizawa was strict, never lenient. You were to make sure the house was clean and organized, you kept yourself healthy, shared dinner with Aizawa and by no means try to leave the house. So simple that it was difficult to squash the want to cause mischief. As you laid in bed with your beloved, a plan formed.

“Let me braid your hair,” you spoke into the morning air.

Aizawa glanced over to you from where he came out of the bathroom to get ready for a relatively unbusy day. The mammoth of a man, came out in only a towel. You swallowed at the familiar sight of his built form. His chest was decorated with a pleasing amount of chest hair. He had a rare day off from both hero work and being a teacher.

"What are you up to," he said, going back to the closet. You eyed as he put his boxers on from under his towel despite the amount of times you saw each other naked.

"Nothing," you pouted.

"You think I don't know you by now?"

"Just come here."

He sighed. Picking out a pair of black sweatpants, he dropped the towel to put them on. Aizawa finally acknowledged your command, turning to you as he put on a long sleeve to match his black bottoms. He swiped the brush on the vanity.

You patted the bed, inviting him to sit next to you. The man easily listened to your beckoning, placing his body down on the edge. He was silent as he reached over his shoulder to hand you the brush. You were giddy to play with his hair. Since you guys started whatever this relationship was, you forced him to start using high end shampoo and conditioner, leaving his inky strands so much softer. He even started using it on his chest hair so it was more comfortable to lay on top of.

Aizawa was a standoffish man, but his silent gestures showed how much he truly cared.

You kneeled behind him, brushing through his hair bottom to top, knowing that he got easily annoyed if you were rough with his hair. Sadly, he didn't care for having his hair pulled. Though he yanked your hair to his contentment.

Once his hair was free of knots, you divided the tendrils into three parts. You didn't do anything fancy knowing that if you tried to be more intricate, he would just take it out.

Taking one chunk from the others, you crossed and folded them over each until his hair was in a simple braid. Tying it off with an elastic, you let him free.

Aizawa stretched his arms above his head before twisting his back to look directly into your eyes.

"Don't cause any trouble."

"When do I ever?"

He caressed the back of his hand across your cheek, "when don't you, my little brat."

With that, he got up from the bed and made his way through the apartment to make his way out. You followed him out as he put his coat on.

"Behave," he reminded, "I will be home in a few hours."

The warning was loud and clear.

With the slam of a door, the apartment was quiet once more and your plan was set in motion.

Aizawa wasn't a stupid man. He had the whole apartment on lockdown and baby proofed. If there wasn't anything he wanted you to get into, you wouldn't. Still, you decided to fuck with the locks on the windows, knowing damn well it would send an alert on his phone. By now, he would be hauling ass to get home, sure to be cursing you under his breath.

At first, your mission was to send him on his toes, but the need to push until something broke fogged your reasoning. With spare pliers he left out, you twisted at the screws on the locks. This ultimately wouldn't get you anywhere as you were ten stories up, but you wanted to see how far you could go.

Apparently not far as you twisted off the second screw, the apartment door opened with a bang.

"Fuck," you whimpered.

He was a lot madder than you thought. Before you could even think to move from the scene of the crime, his capture weapon wrapped around your dominant wrist. You yelped as he pulled it back, taking the other one as well to tie behind your back, forearms parallel to each other. Completely defenseless, he pulled you towards him with a sharp tug. You fell on your ass as you were dragged towards him, away from the window.

With his foot, he pushed you onto your side as you weakly struggled. He stepped over you, so he hovered above your wiggling body.

"Stupid girl," his tone was cold.

You turned your head to look up at the god before you. His hair was still in the braid from this morning. Nudging you, he had you now on your back, arched perfectly from your bound forearms.

“Got anything to say for yourself?”

You chose to ignore him, as you tried to get out of your binds. In response he tugged the cloth tighter and you whined at the sensation. Squirming, you tried your best to ignore the heat building between your thighs. This was affecting you a lot sooner than you wanted. You were supposed to have him right where you wanted him, not the other way around.

Aizawa tilted his head as you shuffled your thighs. A sadistic grin spread across his lips. Grabbing you by the collar of your shirt, he lifted you so you were level with his face.

"If you wanted me to tie you up, you could have asked instead of getting yourself in trouble. Now look at you, so pathetic under me.”

You looked away, embarrassed that you were so easily caught. At that he dropped you, your head connecting with the floor first. You hissed in pain, but that was quickly ignored as Aizawa kneeled down. His thighs bracketed your shoulders, his crotch inches away from your face.

From this angle you could see the bulge in his sweatpants. As much as he called out you getting off on this, the bastard was, too. He grabbed your head and tilted it up.

“You know what to do next. Be good and maybe I will go easy on you.”

At that, he pulled down his pants and boxers, his cock sprung out. The tip was red with pre-cum pebbling out from the small hole. You lulled your tongue out, welcoming the appendage. Aizawa shuffled closer as you were basically immobile in this position. Perfect for him to fuck your throat. He tapped the head against your tongue, teasing you. You whined out, wanting more.

“Patience.”

Despite his words, he tilted his hips to allow more of him in your mouth. You twirled your tongue around his sensitive head to which he hissed. His cum was a tang you grew to salivate over. Wanting to hear more of his noises, you dragged your tongue to his hole, dipping the tip. He grabbed your hair in retaliation forcing more of his cock into you. You gagged at the intrusion.

“You can take it.”

The behemoth of a man groaned in response to your throat tightening. He forced more inside your mouth until your nose hit his pelvis. His unruly pubes tickled your face. You tried your best to control your breathing in fear of vomiting on him. No matter how many times you welcomed his cock in your mouth, it was hard to take all of him. He was a huge man in every sense.

Seeing you had calmed down, Aizawa pulled his hips back just to snap them back into your warm palate. All you could do was let him have his way with you. Your free legs spasmed, trying to find purchase as you were throat-fucked.

You rubbed your tongue on the underneath of his cock, trying to help his release. The pink muscle massaged the vein running down the length. Aizawa moaned and his hips stuttered. Keeping at it, you sucked your cheeks in, trying to milk him for all his worth.

He followed your pattern and fucked into you hard, chasing his release. His sounds were getting louder and more breathy. You moaned in response, craving his cum. He shoved himself all the way down and kept your head there. Just as you thought he was going to come, he slowly pulled his cock from your mouth. You whined, confused as to why he stopped.

His breathing stuttered as he fully dragged himself away. He met your eyes with his own. Sensing your perplexedness, he said, “I’m not done with you yet.”

Aizawa pulled you up so he was now straddling your thighs. Harshly, he pulled down your pants and panties in one swoop. Impatience in his stature. As he denied himself an orgasm, he was antsy to have your cunt wrapped around his drooling cock.

Your body justled as he was harsh with tugging your bottoms fully off. Left bare, Aizawa yanked your right leg up to your chest, your pussy on display. Capture weapon still in his grasp, he wrapped it around your thigh and then wound it to your calf. Tugging your body up, he finished his knot by wrapping it around your chest. The only body part free was your left leg. Not that it matters, as he has you caught in his web and you enjoyed every moment being smothered.

Aizawa maneuvered his body so he was now in between your legs that were forced up by his hand. The hero leaned over you so you were completely swarmed by him. He brought his hand to gently cradle your throat, swiping a thumb across your swollen lips.

“My beautiful girl, my wonderful brat.”

Your lips fell open so he could slip his thumb into the cavern he just fucked open. Aizawa took the invitation to press the digit into your tongue, holding it down. Eyes lidded and body pliant, the hero puts his cock to your slippery but unprepared cunt. This was supposed to be a punishment anyway.

Your eyebrows peaked in the center as he bullied his cockhead into your cunny. The burn was almost too much. He kept his gaze on yours, making sure you were okay as he forced his way further. And just as he did to your throat, he pushed his way in until he was to the hilt.

His head falls at the sensation. Aizawa ruggedly breathes in and out his nose, trying his best not to instantly blow his load in your hot hot hot cunt. He was a man that took pride in his stamina, but with you, he is weak.

You whined against his thumb, begging for whatever he would give. “Patience,” he repeated with a seethe.

And yet, Aizawa rocked his hips into yours, finally starting a rhythm to bring both to the end. He drawed himself out slowly until it was only his tip. He kept his gaze to yours. You squirmed, ignoring how he called for patience. Well you have been patient enough.

Aizawa pressed his thumb down hard to the point your jaw was left agape, “stop being a brat.”

You only whined in response, not able to do much more. Whether because he could see the tears bubbling up again or him losing his own composure, he slammed himself back in.

You screeched at how he hit your cervix, tapping against your g-spot. Aizawa cruelly grinned at your pain. The hero was a sadist through and through. You loved every minute of it.

Done with playing games, he pistoned his hips in and out of you. He kept a steady pace that was not so fast he was jackhammering into your poor cunt. No, he was methodical in how he brought you both to your release. Aizawa was already close so he brought his thumb from your mouth to your clit and swirled patterns into the bundle of nerves.

Your moans and whimpers were free for him to listen to. Your pathetic sounds were what tipped him over. He shoved himself all the way in, making sure you soaked up every bit of his cum. At him spilling inside you, you were brought to your own orgasm. Stars exploded behind your eyes.

The hero dropped down on top of your body, heavy. His beard scraped your neck and you giggled at how it tickled.

“Next time just say you want to be tied up and not give me a heart attack, please.”

“No promises.”

“Brat.”

@tokyometronetwork

#yandere aizawa #aizawa x reader #aizawa smut #yandere bnha #bnha smut #yandere aizawa x reader #yandere #tw yandere

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i-cant-sing · 1 year

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You know who would be homophobic to their yandere?

Teen reader being kidnapped byvolatonic yandere dads (Erasermic or DabiHawks).

Like you're telling me that you wouldn't honestly yell every slur in the book and be anti LGBQT the moment you find out that your "supposed caregivers" that took you in were actually the reason why your loving family/mom/dad was DEAD (for Erasermic au) or falsely imprisoned in jail for life (for DabiHawks au).

Yeah, I don't buy that.

Now I'm imagining yandere parents becoming very concerned for you because "murder is fine, but homophobia? NOT UNDER OUR ROOF!" and start whatever the opposite of conversion therapy is for you.

But like what would they actually do??? MMe you read brochures? Books? Maybe if it's DabiHawks, they'd definitely go for reading you those storybooks for kids that promote the gay dads ( Hawks going "the question shouldn't be why do you have 2 dads?! It should be why not 3-!" With Dabi bonking him on the head because for the umpteenth time keigo brought up fucking Enji.). If its Erasermic, I can see Aizawa ignoring you whenever you're behaving like this and giving you whole ass lectures on why it's not OK to be homophobic, while Hizashi is fully convinced that you're acting like this because you're afraid to come out of the closet yourself and now he's trying very hard to make you come out, which doesn't matter in the long run because he and Aizawa ain't allowing you to date anyone, period.

#yandere bnha #bnha headcanons #yandere mha #bnha imagines #yandere dabi #yandere hawks x reader #yandere hawks #yandere erasermic x reader #yandere erasermic #yandere aizawa shouta #yandere aizawa x reader #yandere aizawa #yandere present mic #yandere present mic x reader

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temptacioun · 5 months

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thinking abt yan! aizawa with a darling that has a cat quirk — they have soft little ears on their head he loves to scratch and a tail that he grips and curls around his wrist while fucking their sweet ass, tugging on it roughly.

oh and he loves when they get into heat and they’re all over him with glossy eyes and ears pressed to their head ; crawling into his lap and pressing their nose into the crook of his neck, already so twitchy against his thighs.

#yandere mha #yandere bnha #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere shouta aizawa #yandere shouta #yandere aizawa #yandere aizawa x reader #yandere x reader #yandere writing

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call-me-copycat · 4 days

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Love Knows No Bounds

➤ Welcome - Introduction and Request Rules (Requests are open + Some info about me)

▶ Characters: Yandere Dadzawa & Daughter Reader [Platonic]

▶ Genre: Kind of fluffy + Yandere themes

▶ Summary: Aizawa's never really taken a liking to kids. But you keep finding him somehow, and he wonders why he's now constantly worrying about you. He decides you're the only exception he'll make.

▶ Word Count: 4547

▶ Warnings:

This is yandere, so there's bound to be a slightly unhealthy mindset

Aizawa's not a creep, I promise

Implications of deaths of citizens

Graphic description of those citizens fear before said deaths

Mention of slight stalking

I'm not too great at writing Yandere, so it's not too bad

You were impossible to ignore.

Aizawa's first meeting with you wasn't exactly conventional. You were paddle boating around the recently melted lake, which was still cold enough to have small chunks of ice still floating around. The surrounding park was busy with people, all enjoying the evening weather right before the sun went down.

Aizawa was just trying to take a walk, he wasn't even on the clock. But when disaster calls, he has to be the one to always answer.

Something must've caught the bottom of your boat, because before you knew it you were engulfed in icy water. Your limbs locked up, and all the breath in your lungs immediately went out.

He was the first one into the lake, pulling you out and onto the grass where it was safe. Before you could grasp your bearings, he was already gone. You only caught a glimpse of the man that had rescued you.

Aizawa, on the other hand, was slightly annoyed with you, seeing as he had to make his walk all the way home in soggy clothing with a chill digging into his bones.

But he didn't care. You were an empty face in a faceless crowd.

Until you appeared again.

The weather was still slightly chilly, but it didn't deter you as you set off for school. You walked down your normal path you'd take, only to see a large dog waiting for you at the end of the path. It was chained, but it was blocking the area - most likely waiting for its owner to come back. You didn't have time for that.

Ultimately, the best decision for you was to go around. To take a slight detour. You were never allowed to walk in strange areas, and you knew your parents would have a fit if you were found out.

Approaching the new area with caution, you sped your way through the neighborhood with ease as it wasn't too different from yours.

A glimpse was what caught you off guard.

Passing by an apartment complex, you initially didn't think much of it. You peeked into the parking lot, only to see the back head of a man getting into his car. He was placing something into the back seat, and you watched curiously as he shut the door and turned to get into the front.

Your eyes widened at the exact moment when you saw his face, remembering the blurry outline of the man that rescued you. Quickly, you calculated how much time you had left before school, eventually coming to a decision as you swiftly made your way over to him.

Your walk turned to a run as you watched him get into his car and turn his key. Your bag rapidly beat against your back as you heavily panted, ending up haphazardly behind his car just as he began to back up.

The car instantly halted with a screech, the back lights blaring as you stood frozen in place.

Aizawa heatedly opened the car door, scowling at the blatant disregard you had for your safety. Before you could react, he was already on you.

"Are you not watching where you're going? Do you not know what would've happened if I didn't react in time?" He snapped, not having much patience with random kids so early in the morning.

You stood there awkwardly as you fiddled with your school uniform, not realizing why you had wanted to reach out to him. Looking at the ground, you evaded his angry glare as you thought about what you had wanted to say to him.

Aizawa's expression softened as you avoided his eyes, realizing he was being a bit too harsh on you. He knew he needed to be stern, but he often got scolded by Mic And Midnight for being too harsh at times. Realizing his behavior, he steeled himself by taking a breath and kneeling down to your level.

"Look..." He started, placing a hand on your shoulder, "You just need to make sure you're aware of your surroundings, I don't want you getting hurt because of someone else's actions. "

Looking up at him with determination, you gripped the bottom of your shirt as you exclaimed, "You...! You're the one who helped me in the lake, right?"

His eyes widened for a second as he thought back to it, realizing that you were the kid he helped out at that moment. He never had someone remember him helping them out, often due to his hidden nature to keep his face out of public view. He would simply do his job and leave. If anything, it was to be expected to not get anything out of it.

Aizawa wasn't sure how you did it, but you somehow managed to find him and mustered up the confidence to thank him. He now saw you as who you were, a kid with a name and face instead of being one of the many blurs in the background.

Still at knee level, he rubbed the back of his neck, "I am," curious, he had to ask you, "Would you mind telling me how exactly you were able to find me here? "

You excitedly nodded your head with a smile as you recalled the issue with the dog and your regular path to school, and how even though your parents didn't like you taking new paths that you didn't have a choice, and to please not tell them or else you'd get in trouble -

Immediately, you remembered about school, and instantly realized that if you didn't hurry then you'd be late, Aizawa quickly catching on to your unease.

"I need to..." You started, beginning to walk away as you nervously pointed out towards the sidewalk from which you came.

"How long does it take you to get to school?" You only answered with a shrug, Aizawa sighing in response. He was caught in a rock and a hard place now.

On one hand, he could just leave you and drive to UA as normal, but deal with the guilt of being the cause of your tardiness. On the other hand, he could offer you a ride, but at the expense of getting in trouble and being seen as a creep. A young girl getting into a random man's car with no knowledge of who he was wasn't the brightest idea when it came to evading public attention. With his looks and mysterious reputation, he already got a few odd looks from passerbys as he spoke to you.

Who were you, and how were you already able to worm yourself into his life?

Helping a random kid get to school was definitely not on his itinerary for the day, yet here he was.

"Are you buckled?"

Nodding cheerfully, you hummed in acknowledgement, oblivious to the heavy dread that settled in Aizawa. He had given in as you looked up at him with worry in your eyes, but he brushed it off as a one time thing. He'd only give in this once.

You weren't very good at giving directions, he realized. After too many U-turns and 'wait a minute!'s, he was ready to get out a map instead.

Finally, you arrived at your school with a few minutes to spare. You happily hopped out of the car, turning around and waving at him with a large smile on your face as you walked inside. After you disappeared from his sight, Aizawa meekly gave a little wave. It felt nice, in a way, helping out someone new.

Although, on the other side he was extremely irritated at your lack of awareness as you were ready to hitch a ride with what was a random stranger. He might have slightly scolded you on stranger danger on your way to school, but you didn't mind too much.

He thought that was that, and that he wouldn't see you again. But you were always there, ready to budge your way into his day once more.

The sun was setting, with only a few strands of light clinging onto the ground as Aizawa took a small walk to the convenience store. The air was cool, and the path was near empty as people began leaving before dark. Perfect for a night dweller such as him.

It was only when he saw a familiar figure that he stopped in his tracks.

You were wheeling a bicycle alongside you, wearing casual street clothes now. Why, he wondered, were you out at this time? Yes, it wasn't that late since the sun barely went down, but it was dark. Much too dark for a kid such as you to be out by herself.

"Oh! It's you again!" You greeted him before he could even fully see you, just as happy as you were before.

"It's late. Why are you out here?" His voice was stern, but still carried an undertone of carrying.

You laughed, already having realized that this man wasn't as scary as he seemed on the outside. You had quickly grew comfortable around him, despite how annoyed he seemed every time he saw you.

"My bike broke, so I'm walking," looking around, you noticed the early time, "besides, it's not too late, I've been out later than this."

His eye twitched. You were so comfortable, smiling and ignorant of any danger or threats that were possible. How you survived this long was well beyond him.

"Still-" Heaving another breath, he swallowed any objections and changed the subject, "What's wrong with your bike? "

You looked down at it, gently nudging it to the side and back, "I think the chain popped, though I could be wrong..."

Aizawa knew nothing about bikes. He only rode a few times as a kid and sometimes as a teen when he didn't have a ride. Still, he lowered himself to inspect your bike. Upon further examination, he did discover the chain, broken.

That night he escorted you home, carrying your bike for you since you were hauling it beside you 'too slowly'.

Aizawa nudged open his front door with his foot, convenient store bags in hand. Putting them down on his kitchen table, he took a moment and silently looked at the ground, wondering just why he was constantly fretting over you.

Perhaps it was because of how ignorant you were? Maybe it was just something he picked up when training to be a hero? He had no clue. He wasn't even a kid person, his own students were already pushing his patience a little thinner each day.

Every time he saw you, he got to know a little more about you. Each meeting gave him a puzzle piece, and a picture of who you were was slowly forming with each occurrence.

He began seeing you more often, whether it was due to random chance or by choice, he didn't care.

Waking beside you as you got off school while you told him all the things you learned, running into him at the grocery store and trying to convince him to get your favorite pudding, showing up at his doorstep with a small basket of berries you picked from the town garden...

Sooner than he would've cared for, Aizawa noticed that he began to like having you by his side. Your company was like a breath of fresh air in his lungs, your happy mood constantly keeping him from getting too sour.

It was new, and it was... Pleasant.

"Aizawaaa-San!"

Your voice greeted him just like every other time he met you, and he cracked a small smile upon hearing it.

Your were a bit of a distance away, but he stopped in place to allow you to run up to him. You somehow found him once again, taking a walk along the harbor where the boats were docked. It seemed like a game at this point, one you always seemed to win.

"Guess what?!"

Ever so excited, you seemed to be practically buzzing with enthusiasm.

He cocked an eyebrow, putting his hands in his pockets as you strolled next to him, "What is it? Going somewhere, I suppose? "

Your laugh rang in his ears, a sound he couldn't get enough of. He was just happy that you were happy, after all.

"Yes! My parents and I are going to visit Tokyo!" You put your hands on your cheeks, gushing, "It's going to be so fun, the city always has the most to do!"

Ah, Tokyo. It was a nice city, but cities always seemed to bring trouble. As everyone knew, the more populated an area, the more villains littered the place. Suddenly, it seemed that the air of amusement deflated from him.

"Just... Be sure to be careful please. "

You took notice of his sudden mood change, confused as to why he wasn't happy about your trip.

"Of course I will! But..." You tilted your head a bit, "Are you okay? You don't seem very happy today"

Taking notice of your worry, Aizawa quickly put on a weak reassuring smile. Putting a hand on your head, he comforted you, "Don't worry about it, just promise to tell me all about your trip when you get back"

You looked up at him, eyes filled with confidence as you hummed in acknowledgement.

Why was he here? Has he actually lost his mind?

That's all that rolled through Aizawa's mind as he scrolled through train stations you'd be passing by. He just needed to be sure that the ride will be safe. He didn't need to go all the way to Tokyo, but just far enough so that he could reassure his frantic mind.

Yes, he understood how freaky he was being. But for some reason, you triggered some odd emotion deep in his brain that made it so he couldn't not worry about you. The world was rough and sharp, he's seen lots of villains that couldn't care less about tearing a small girl to shreds...

A shudder ran through his spine, and Aizawa quickly ejected the thought from his mind before he could go any more crazy.

The rain was uncomfortable, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. All Aizawa could do was circle around the nearby stations then let you truly go to explore further.

Without him.

It left an odd taste in his mouth.

The train passed by, rumbling the station and the people around it, and he watched as it rode further and further away . . . carrying you with it. Of course you'd come back, it was only a trip. But what would he do if you didn't? What if your parents decided to move to Tokyo? What if you got into an accident?

It was then that he realized how silent his life would be without you in it. You were the colors dotting his gray life.

Taking a deep breath, he decided to drive around to calm himself, his nerves making him more jumpy than he'd like.

The drive was unfortunately cut short.

He knew it. Aizawa knew something was bound to happen.

Of course a villain shows up. He had seen the call earlier that day, but at that time they were much farther away. He realized that whoever the heroes were chasing must've been fast.

He was also quite large.

A massive villain, made of rock was being propelled by what seemed like self-made wings was near-cornered by a good amount of heroes going after him. And when a villain gets trapped they tend to do one of two things: they either (1) Lose any sense of logic in their mind and make stupid last-minute decisions, or (2) Get extremely violent as they know their time is up and that they have nothing to lose.

This villain seemed to be leaning towards the first point, as his flying began to get more and more erratic, frantically trying to find a way out through the numerous towering buildings with a multitude of heroes on his tail.

It was an unfortunate timing of events.

It felt as though time froze for a split second. Aizawa had never felt as powerless as he did in that moment. He could only watch in horror as the villain slammed into the train tracks with a deafening thud, knocking away a good portion of the tracks that sat high above the ocean.

(Like a combination of these two ^⁠_⁠^)

Huge chunks of rubble slowly collapsed down and into the dark waters that rushed at the bottom of the tracks, down to the point where they couldn't be seen anymore. The metal pieces of the tracks sat sticking out of the remaining ends, bent and distorted.

Whipping his head where your train was coming, Aizawa felt as though his heart was about to overflow and explode to pieces right in his chest. He felt hollow, and everything began to swirl as he watched the train skid in an attempt to stop.

Unfortunately the train was too heavy to stop all at once, causing it to skid over the tracks with a shrieking screech as metal collided with metal.

Sparks flew from the wheels as the train bolted in the direction of the collapsed tracks, threatening to hurl itself over and into the roaring waters below. Surrounding citizens were ushered out of the area for their safety, but those remaining sat and watched tensely, often screaming out in worry and horror at the sight before them.

Aizawa immediately halted his car and tore out into your direction while leaving it where it sat, uncaring for anything that blocked his way from getting to you. He held his scarf that once sat in his passenger seat haphazardly in his arms, struggling to get the heavy metal properly around his neck while he ran.

Pure adrenaline coursed through his veins as he sprinted with all his might towards the skidding train, his eyes never leaving the sight. He knew that he wouldn't be able to make it up there on time, and he surely knew he couldn't stop a train, but he'd be damned if he sat there watching without attempting anything.

A slight burst of hope sparked within him as several strength-bound heroes rushed to the scene and teamed up to heave the train in the opposite direction to slow it's movement. It was a bit of a struggle, but the stalling of what would've been a complete massacre of a train full of civilians meant everything in that moment.

A hero in front was attempting to push his feet in front of the machine while it skidded against him, and several in the back were using an assortment of quirks in an attempt to pull it backwards.

Slowly, the train began to slow just as Aizawa made his way up to it, the train still ticking its way uncomfortably close to the edge. He hopped into the train from the roof just as the front of the train slowly ran over the edge, dangling itself over the dark waters while the back cabins sat on the crumbling tracks.

All the passengers were in a panic, and it was incredibly difficult for Aizawa to manage his way through the terrified screaming and faces full of tears, but he was determined to face the chaos in order to find you.

He knew he was breaking Heroes Code. Once you were a hero, you were expected to do your best to save every person you could, with no bias towards one and risk the lives of many others. But he just couldn't think of such a thing at that time.

His mind was in a frenzy as the passengers all started hollering and rushing towards the back of the train, and in that moment, Aizawa realized why.

The front cabin of the train was threatening to rip off from the back end, the cables slowly snapping as more and more people rushed through it.

Eventually, a horrible, dreadful silence filled the cabin as the passengers still inside the front all froze in place, terrified to make a single move.

Aizawa stood at the front of the cabin that sat on the tracks, peering down inside the cabin that dangled - straight at the petrified faces of the passengers as they looked to him for rescue.

He had to think. If he just walked in, the entire thing would collapse. But he didn't see you in any of the cabins when he started at the back, and he took a second to glance over the terrified faces, each nothing but a blur to him.

Faceless, nameless citizens.

It was then that he instantly locked eyes with you, huddled at the way front end of the train. You were gripping the top bar of the train with such force that your knuckles were white, and he could see the true look of horror on your face as you had the closest view of the water waiting to swallow you down below.

He could only assume the two adults next to you were your parents, but he wasn't focused on them. Your eyes were screaming for him. It was extremely unsettling for him, to see your usually innocent and joyful face filled with such fear.

He only had one thing on his mind. The only thing he's every thought of whenever it came to you.

To keep you safe. To protect your smile.

At this point a couple other heroes had boarded the train alongside him and began to rush the the front end of the train, intent on getting everyone out alive.

Unaware of Aizawa's selfishness.

Slowly, the cables snapped as the cabin began to lower without stopping, causing the passengers to go into another round of distress as they all could only await the inevitable.

"Eraserhead!"

Quickly, Aizawa gave a small glance behind his shoulder to the random hero calling his name, keeping you in his peripheral vision. He was a young man with thick ropes of metal unwinding from his body, keeping the secondary cabin that still sat on the tracks from falling with the front. The metal coils winded around and through the train as it gripped the machine, keeping the man stationary.

"Please! Just save who you can!"

Another hero from behind the young man added on, "There are other pros waiting below the train to catch as many passengers as they can! They can't assure they'll be able to save everyone, so please! Move whoever you can grab, and do it NOW!"

He sprung into action before the hero could even finish her sentence, darting straight in your direction. For a brief second, his eyes caught a glimpse of who your parents were, and he realized that if he put in some extra effort that he could've taken them with him.

A dark, heavy feeling filled his mind for a second, and he seemed to lose control of his normally logical mind.

Envy. Jealousy. Rage.

They too, were faceless, nameless citizens.

Unimportant.

He was rash, wrapping and hauling you up and through the cabin with his scarf, immediately pulling you into his arms as he carried you to the safer cabin. Once his scarf was free he hastily tugged a few nearby passengers into the cabin with him, an alibi, before the cabin snapped entirely and began collapsing down below.

The passengers erupted into a cacophony of shrieks and crying as they uselessly tried to make their way to the other cabin before theirs fell entirely. Aizawa caught a glimpse of your parents faces again, but he only watched as they fell with no remorse on his face.

He felt hollow, but at the same time he felt fulfilled with you in his grasp.

Looking over, he saw a couple heroes mid-flight, ready to do what they could for the falling passengers. Aizawa could only look on grimly as he understood they wouldn't be able to handle all the people left behind.

You were clinging to him as the front end of the train collapsed, and as you turned your head Aizawa covered your face with his jacket to keep you from witnessing something that a kid your age shouldn't ever have to see in their lifetime.

The tragedy was all over the news. Numerous heroes littered the scene as they assisted all those that they saved to the medical professionals. News reporters were constantly attempting to get a word from one of those heroes, or an image of what was left behind. A few selfish ones, hungry for a best seller, tried to get a few words in with the victims.

The train was now empty, the front cabin sitting in the waters below and the rest of the train barely lasting against the remains of the crumbling tracks.

Ambulances were wheeling out more people than they had room for, and construction heroes were already on the scene as they got ready to remove the train from the hazardous tracks.

And yet, throughout all the chaos, all Aizawa could look as was you.

You, clinging onto him for dear life. You, who almost lost that life. You, who once again was saved by him just as he did that one time in the lake.

He refused to part with you, accompanying you all the way to the closest hospital they could get you to that wasn't overcrowded. He still stayed by your side, all throughout the night as you couldn't sleep.

He was by your side as the doctors gave you one last checkup before letting you know you were ready to leave.

And he was the shoulder you cried on when you found out the news about your parents. They were just faces in the crowd, yet he was still there to assist you.

He was a hollow, empty man towards the unknown. Those without faces didn't gain any sympathy from him, they littered the background plenty.

He was there when you felt completely, awfully lost and scared. And he was the one to offer you a home. He gave you a home, safety, and unconditional love and comfort. He was simply, conveniently there, and you didn't question it.

He was there for every fear, every nightmare, and every time your felt alone.

Later on, he was the one who accompanied you to school, this time as the one to sign you up and drive you home without worry. He drove you everywhere freely, no matter where you wanted to go. No worries attached.

You reached out to him as your pillar, and for once, things flipped around as he was your beacon of light now.

Soon enough, your smile returned, and with it that laugh he so enjoyed hearing from you. You were safe, and you were happy. That was all he needed.

Now that you were his, he wouldn't risk a single thing that he thought would put you in danger.

Your laugh was purely for him to hear.

Your smile was only his to see.

Your safety was only his concern.

Constantly by your side, you both rarely parted. He wouldn't allow you to anymore, seeing what happened the last time he attempted to let you go off without him.

You couldn't have been more grateful for all he gave you. He saved you from a lonely life ahead, and he kept you safe. He was always telling you that, anyways.

But you didn't mind. Aizawa was Aizawa, and you couldn't ask for anything else. For all you knew, he was the man who always conveniently showed up to save you, the one to always lend a hand whenever you needed it.

But to you, he wasn't Aizawa anymore.

He was Dad.

And he wouldn't ever let it go any other way.

Notes:

I hope this was good for a first attempt at writing Yandere! If this wasn't to your liking, send me a message through asks and I'll write another how you'd like! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

I really liked the plot I made for this one - ̗̀ ( ˶'ᵕ'˶) ̖́-

I'm working on the other requests I've gotten, I've been getting plenty! I really appreciate every one who sent one in, I look forward to fulfilling what I can ୧꒰*´꒳`*꒱૭✧

I hope you all have a lovely day!

@jessiedead Hope you like it (⁠^⁠^⁠)

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thefiery-phoenix · 7 months

Text

YANDERE SHOTA AIZAWA HEADCANONS

1. This guy is possessive ASF and he will try restraining you since he's scared that you'll leave him and all that. Hell, he'd even go as far as to lock you up in a room or something to make sure you don't escape since he wants to be with you ALWAYS

2. Well, on a scale from 1-10 this guy won't hurt you so much, so imma give him a 3/10. He's lazy to hurt you properly and doesn't want his darling kitten to be scared of him, but that doesn't mean you should let your guard down. if you try acting up and behaving like a brat, he'll just wrap you up in his scarves

3. When it comes to hurting others, he'll need a good reason to kill or hurt them since...well, he IS a pro hero and he has a reputation and an image to uphold and maintain. But, he will be like an incarnation of Satan and Hitler COMBINED to people who won't back the FLIP away from you or try stealing you away from him

4. After he gets to meet you, he won't kidnap you instantly since he needs his time to prepare everything for you from your favorite book series to some cuddly stuffed animals and all that. Not to mention a super comfy bedroom for you

5. This guy will certainly stalk you, no doubt about that, but he'll be secretive when it comes to it. You're a pro hero and so, he's gotta be aware of how he's gonna charm his way into you heart and your life. He's a very patient guy.

6. Do NOT try manipulating him at ALL since this guy is really clever and he will certainly see through your acts. His punishments for you trying to escape will include either locking you in your room for a whole day or emotionally manipulating you. He won't hit you and all that, so no worries

7. He's like a dad. He's always soft when you're compliant. He doesn't care if you're the clingiest person in the world, in fact, he adores it. He wants you to come bother him and distract him from his work. And don't forget about his HIDEOUS fashion sense (Lol, Aoyama would go INSANE if he realizes Aizawa has no taste in clothes) So, sometimes when he goes shopping for buying you ugly sweaters with cats on them, you literally have to BEG him to buy you some decent clothes since the clothes he brought are just so.... ugly

8. He shows his affection with cuddles, makes you feel loved in his warm embrace, keeping you safe out of trouble. He likes giving you headpats since you're shorter than him and occasionally, out of habit, when the two of you are lounging on the couch or in bed, he will rub your hair like he would a cat

9. Overall, he isn't so bad. He might even consider buying you a pet cat or any animal you want for company since he understands that you'll be bored out of your skull when he's gone

10. He also loves it when he just comes home and wraps you and him in his yellow sleeping bag thingy and you'll look like some sort of living yellow caterpillar but he doesn't give a DAMN about it. He just likes cuddling with you and he won't take No for an answer at ALL

''Oh, someone's been a bad naughty kitty cat. Looks like you need some punishment~''

#yandere bnha #yandere bnha x reader #yandere aizawa #yandere aizawa x reader #yandere aizawa headcanons #yandere shota aizawa oneshots #yandere aizawa scenarios #yandere aizawa imagines #yandere aizawa shota oneshots #yandere bnha characters x reader #yandere bnha characters

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pumpkin-pi-e · 1 year

Text

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.

#yandere Aizawa x reader #yandere Hanzo Shimada x reader #hanzo smut #yandere Jesse McCree x reader #yandere Cole Cassidy x reader #yandere Toji Fushiguro x reader #toji smut #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere overwatch #yandere bnha #😍yandere #<- Block this tag if you don’t want to see dark content #yandere smut #they’re soft yanderes tho #Spotify

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the-grimm-writer · 2 years

Note

Thinking about getting chased in the woods by a Yan… and a question popped up in my head….

One day after getting the courage to try and escape….. who do YOU think would be the scariest top 5 BNHA yanderes to be running from in the woods?

Scary... But very sexy 😩

1. Dabi

My man can and will burn everything down in order to find you. He's so furious, he lets his flames go anywhere as he storms through the woods screaming your name. He may not find you at first, but you're likely to get trapped in a wall of blue flames. You'd have no choice but to wait and beg him to save you from the fire.

2. Hawks

It's unlikely you could even leave the house, but if on a rare chance you do, he's thrilled as he is pissed. Chasing, more like flying, after you, there's nothing more he loves most than feeling like a Hawk hunting down its prey. He even draws it out for you, letting you have some hope that you can get away before a bunch of feathers come at you, slamming you against a tree and keeping you pinned down as a very angry hero stalks towards you.

3. Shigaraki

He's so fucking creepy. He hardly even runs after you. He just laughs, then screams that you better fucking run and hope that you have a good hiding spot. It's a game to him, waiting until you're exhausted and trying to keep quiet as you hide behind a tree, trying to catch your breath. You can see him from the corner of your eye, looking around for you and cooing for you to come out wherever you are. You slowly back away, getting ready to run again when you step on a branch. His eyes immediately look at you and a twisted grin makes its way to his face, asking you if you're ready for your punishment.

4. Aizawa

This man knows where you're going to go before you do it. You make a turn just to stumble and see him already standing there, a smug look on his face as he tells you to "try again." And he lets you run off but it's useless, he's right there every time. When he gets bored he doesn't even make a noise as his scarf wraps around you and pulls you to him tightly.

5. Bakugou

You're lucky he's calmed down a lot since his younger years, but it hardly makes a difference. It's even worse now, actually. As a pro hero he's faster, even stronger than he has been before. A loud explosion rings in your ears, making you stop in your tracks for a second as you could almost feel the earth vibrate against your feet from the sheer force of it. Your head spins as you hear the hero's loud voice screaming to get your ass over to him. When he uses his quirk to tackle you to the ground, he just scoffs, ignoring your cries and please easily, more offended that you had the nerve to be such a dumbass and run away from him in the first place.

#my favorite trope #grimm thirsts #yandere bnha #yandere x reader #yandere dabi #yandere dabi x reader #yandere hawks #yandere hawks x reader #yandere shigaraki #yandere aizawa #yandere bakugou #yandere shigaraki x reader #yandere aizawa x reader #yandere bakugou x reader #yandere my hero academia #yandere mha #yandere bnha x reader #yandere x you

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 months

Text

Yandere V + H: Aizawa Shouta and Hizashi Yamada

These two are the villains and you the henchman

A couple of villains perfectly prepared to take on the army of heroes

You’re probably one of many

Hundreds of henchmen under the villains are meant to be nameless and faceless

Just a pair of helping hands to whatever scheme these two seem to come across

“Sirs! I have something important to report!”

“WHAT!? What’s the matter?”

“Out with it! Tell us, then.”

“Mittens…she…”

“Our cat? Oh yeah, you took her to the vet, right? So what’s the matter?”

“She…”

“Go on! We can take it!”

“She’s…”

“...”

“She’s pregnant!”

“Eureka!!” “So, my suspicions were correct.”

“Congratulations! I’ve brought a cake to celebrate, the awesome news!”

"Wow that's awesome of you!" "Thank you, (Y/n)."

It's your focus on them as people that make them realize your worth

Unlike your coworkers who easily clock out the moment their hours are enough, you stay

Always asking if they’ve eaten, drunk enough water, or if they’ve been able to get to their laundry this week

First, its a key to their private home just to feed the cats

But then it's a meal plan of what they’ll want for dinner

Then the type of detergent for their clothes

And at this rate, they should will just start moving you into their guest bedroom

You’ve just become such an important part of their lives they can’t imagine their lives or their villainy without you:

Shota did a double take at the mass of eager minions he was prepared to lead. Not seeing a familiar face smiling and saluting among them. It would be unnerving if he didn’t remember that there were chores that he and Yamada assigned; it’d be safe to assume that’s where you there.

“Uhm babe, did you see (Y/n) on the cameras?”

“No, but I was going to. Did you?”

“Yeah…”

A look of worry and unease was on Yamada’s face, he pulled out his phone pulled up the feed of multiple cameras, and turned the screen to his significant other who had a bad feeling. The feed was clear, and a video of the cats and kittens walking around the house was sped up as the hours continued on. The speed-up footage seemed to slow as you stumbled into the room, wobbling haphazardly as the felines crowded around you as you prepared their food. He watched as you jerked and jumped to what seemed like sneezing. You eventually left but the thought of your state alone was upsetting.

“They’re…sick.”

“Yeah, but what’s worse they didn’t even say anything to me! What about you?”

“No.”

The couple grew silent, enveloped in an unnerved feeling as they looked at their beloved henchman through the screen. Shota was the first to look away, reaching for a device on his belt that held a blinking moving dot. He noted the time on his watch, humming to himself as he adjusted his cape.

“We’ve got time to catch our kitten, but we must be quick.”

__________________________________________

You felt despicable. More than your stuffy nose and rising temperature, you felt despicable with yourself. For getting yourself sick in the first place. How could you be the best henchman you could if your body wasn’t working correctly? It made you feel even worse.

You couldn’t properly serve the couple after they so lovingly offer for you to stay in their home. Granted they were awfully adamant about that going so far as to start moving your clothes and other things into the guest room in their house. But who were you to question their kindness when you were just a mere stepping stool to their villainous success?

Deep down you couldn’t help but let your insipid doubts creep in. Like why your heart beat so fast when you walked in to find the couple going through your fridge. Or when the couple send an uplifting photo of your ex being waterboarded. It shouldn’t strike fear into your heart that your employers were so involved. You were being ungrateful. That’s what got you sick. Your unwillingness to let them further involve themselves in your life is to blame for the weakness in your immune system. You’re not sick from stress…right?

“Here’s your medicine! Hope you get better hun!”

“Thanks, miss.”

Thanking the old woman as you retrieved your medication from over the counter. Trudging out the pharmacy you planned to begin the long trek back home. Completely unaware of a flashy hero stopping their route to slowly float next to you.

“Oh troubled citizen! May I be of assistance?”

The loud question grated your ears as you refused to focus on anything other than keeping awake.

“No. Go away.”

“But dear citizen I cannot for you seem to need help!”

You groaned at their insistence reminded of the enemy your employers were especially not fond of…infact—You finally looked with familiarized malice at the shining mass and recognizable hair at the hovering super-powered individual.

“You’re that one hero…aren’t you?”

“So you know of me? Good! Then you have the honor of being under my care!”

“We don’t think so.”

The monotone and distorted voice of The Eraser had you both looking up at the villains in shocked stupor. Both were fully decked out in their villain armor menacingly standing still in broad daylight. The Mic was uncharacteristically silent further upsetting your already flipping stomach. It didn’t seem that the hero felt any semblance of that though.

“You two? My it seems you have the most uncanny sense for where I am! Perhaps you’re stalking me?”

You could tell he was rolling his eyes under his visor but the villain still reached a gloved hand out to you.

“(Y/n) come with me, I’ll be taking you to our home, now.”

You didn’t know why your feet weren’t moving or why your hands shook as you reached out. Or why your heart was pumping so fast. Perhaps that was why you let the hero put an arm out in front of you as he lightly shoved you further behind his back.

“Do not hark their villainous temptations (MY/n)! They only wish to unsettle me with a hostage–”

His heroic declarations were interrupted by the sudden closeness of The Mic their speaker enhanced mouthpiece dangerously close to their exposed ear.

“Don’t you dare touch them!”

The hero cringed further keeping you behind him as he backed up. Holding the side of his head he swung it back and forth between the villains. With an unexpected battle cry he opened his palms towards the villains before frantically shaking it when he found no reaction.

“W-what is this?! Why can’t I–?”

“Did you forget who you were fighting? Idiot.”

“Wellll the idiot is realizing just how much of a moron he is maybe we’ll grant some mercy.”

“M-mercy?”

“Yup you give us our lovely (Y/n)! And we won’t immediately squash you to bits!”

“Immediately?”

“Do I hafta keep repeating myself? Just give us the kitten we’ll be up on and on our way! Okay?”

“That is until we return to beat you to a bloody pulp for so much as talking to them. See (Y/n) this is why you should just stay home, it just means more carnage for everyone else. Besides you’re so sick I bet you can’t even think straight, come home (Y/n).”

“Yeah precious how about we just go home…”

“You want watch us obliterate him would you?”

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fluff-n-cookies · 8 months

Text

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.

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artemis32 · 1 year

Text

Subjugation II

Yandere Erasermic x reader

Well, here you go, part II as promised :))

I’m going to say this took so long because I’ve never written smut before (that’s true, but I also take months to get things done) but I’m so proud of the fact that I actually attempted to write a sex scene, yay me

Please read the trigger warnings below, they aren’t there for fun, and minors dni, go away

****

word count - 7.5k

tw: abuse (physical and emotional), isolation, hypothermia, noncon / dubcon, threesome, oral sex (both f and m receiving), blowjob, choking, biting, nipple play, creampie, cervix-fucking, threats and violence (against reader), power dynamics (reader is in her early twenties, Erasermic duo are in their mid to late thirties), age-gap relationship

****

Part I

bnha masterlist

****

Before your little “attempt at defiance”, you had watched the seasons change day by day through the windows scattered throughout the house. There were many, all of them large.

The two men you lived with weren’t exactly worried about you escaping, not when the three of you were the only hint of civilization for a few hundred kilometers. You could run, you could hide, but they were sure to find you before you managed to get very far.

And so, you found solace in watching as the months went by.

One thing you were grateful for, not that you’d ever admit it, is that the two men chose a gorgeous area for the isolated home. The lack of human interference meant that nature flourished all around you.

The thick canopy of trees that surrounded you often looked like something right out of a postcard.

During the warmer months, the thick expanse of trees and other plants cast a large shadow over the back garden. You spent many hours there, lazing about like a cat. It wasn’t as if there was much else to entertain you anyway. In autumn, many of the leaves fell and decorated the forest floor in varying shades of green and brown. It was beautiful.

And winter. Winter was the season you enjoyed the most.

Winter was when you were allowed to cuddle up under heaps of blankets before a crackling fireplace. Winter was when you constantly had a warm mug cradled in your hands.

You were allowed to keep to yourself - you could spend hours reading or napping, even watching television if it was dreary enough outside.

And your favourite part had to be the snow.

It piled up high most years, coming up past your knees, almost to your hips if you were lucky enough.

The cold air would prickle your lungs, making your skin tingle. But no matter how cold it was outside; you could always come back inside and warm up.

No matter what, you were allowed back into the relative warmth and safety the two men provided.

****

You were cold.

You’d lost the feeling in your hands and feet a while ago. Your face was numb too.

How long had it been?

Hours? Days? Perhaps it had only been a few minutes.

You weren’t sure.

Time felt sluggish, like you were wading through honey. Even the movement surrounding you felt slow and dull. Each snowflake fell slowly, as if you were watching your surroundings change frame by frame.

You lay curled up in a tight ball, tucking your arms and legs into your belly in a futile attempt to preserve some semblance of warmth.

The tree you were huddled up against was uncomfortable. Everything was uncomfortable. Bark cut into your back, and you were sure that if you were able to feel anything, you would feel the sting of dozens of splinters in your skin.

Even though a thick layer of snow coated the ground, you still felt the hard ground, covered with pebbles, digging into your butt. The snow beneath you had long since melted, drenching your clothing.

The once warm sweatpants and hoodie now clung to your skin. It made the cold worse, you were sure, but you couldn’t bring yourself to remove it. That would require movement, and the loss of what little warmth remained. It also likely meant that you’d lose whatever sense of pride you’d managed to cling to.

You’d stopped shivering a while ago. Now all you managed to focus on was staying awake.

Falling asleep scared you. You worried you wouldn’t wake up if you did.

So, you sat there, curled up into yourself, scared and cold.

Waiting. For what, you weren’t sure.

****

When you’d first woken up after the two men had drugged your food, you were quiet, timid, trying your best to melt down into the bed beneath you. Stoking their anger would have made everything worse.

That’s what you told yourself.

The anxiety made your head spin.

Shota was cruel - making you wait for them, wait for some sort of punishment without any indication of what would happen, he knew it made you sweat.

They’d scared you half to death when they realised you were awake, stripping you of your stolen sleep shorts and shirt.

You had thrashed and cried, almost resorting to begging them. Almost, but not quite.

Pride was a cruel thing.

Hizashi had been the one to quell your fears. He’d always had more empathy for you and your situation than Shota had.

“Calm down, we’re not going to touch you.”

You knew what he meant. You should have felt relieved, but terror had settled deep in your stomach like a boulder, especially with the unspoken words that buzzed between you.

We won’t touch you. Not yet.

You still felt sick.

They eventually managed to change you after a few minutes of quiet struggling on your part.

The sweatpants were grey and thick with a hoodie to match. It was comfortable, but the fact that they had seen you so exposed and vulnerable almost made tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. The embarrassment made your skin burn.

Hizashi had made you sit up, poking at your back harshly whenever you slouched. He spent nearly an hour patiently combing through your hair, gently massaging your scalp and shoulders.

It made you uncomfortable. It was far too intimate, too peaceful for you to relax.

Shota came in just as Hizashi finished with your hair, placing a loving peck on the crown of your head.

“Drink it.” A tall glass of what appeared to be water is shoved into your hands.

Your hesitance is clear on your face and Shota throws you a death glare.

“All of it.”

You give him a cautious glance, sniffing the contents of the glass before taking a small sip.

Just water.

Never mind the fact that it may have been drugged, just like the food you had so foolishly scarfed down. You didn’t care for the consequences, but more importantly, you didn’t want to anger the two men any more than you already had.

You drank it slowly, sipping in intervals, trying to buy yourself as much time as you could. The anticipation of waiting for the punishment you were certain you’d receive was agony. Honestly, making you wait so anxiously was probably part of your punishment.

It was so unfair.

What had you done to deserve this treatment?

You’d made your desire to leave abundantly clear, so it wasn’t as if your outburst was unexpected. In fact, you thought that they should be grateful you were behaving as well as you were. Of course, the occasional breakdown should be expected, they were insane if they thought otherwise - not that you’d ever tell them that.

Eventually, you couldn’t stall any further. Your glass was empty and there was nothing left to do but await their verdict.

You felt like a common criminal, as if you committed some unspeakable crime.

Hizashi re-entered the room, making his way towards you. Each step felt like a weight dropped in your stomach, and his serious demeanour only added to your apprehension. Hizashi was hardly ever this serious.

“You done?” He asks, nodding towards the empty glass in your hands.

You nod silently, unable to speak.

“Okay, come on, up you get.”

He helps you off the bed before leading you towards the door, down the stairs, making a beeline straight for the back door.

The garden?

Confusion kicks in in that moment and you falter slightly.

“Hizashi? Where are we going?”

Your voice comes out softer than you’d like, almost cracking. You would berate yourself for sounding so scared, but your uncertainty throws you off.

He looks at you with a dull expression, almost no emotion in his gaze. He looks tired.

“You’ve brought this upon yourself, just remember that. We warned you.”

With that, he grips your forearm and yanks you outside.

It’s freezing.

In that moment, as he pulls and shoves you towards the large cluster of trees that act as the perimeter of the property, all you can think is that the two men must be crazy.

Not crazy from anger or lack of awareness.

Downright crazy.

They have to be. You’d freeze to death out here, especially with the clothing you had on – sweats weren’t exactly snow gear.

He didn’t seem to care, shoving you down before grabbing at a leather rope that you hadn’t seen before, buried beneath the snow. The realisation of what he’s about to do sets in slowly, and by the time you think to react, it’s too late.

The thick leather is smooth around your ankle, the metal links clinking loudly as Hizashi locks it in place. He stands and gives you one last glance, sighing heavily before turning and making his way back to the house.

He didn’t stop.

He didn’t look back.

You don’t call out to him. You only sit and stare at his retreating figure.

Even though the house was so far away, you were sure you heard the lock snap into place as Hizashi slammed the door.

****

Before you’d been taken in by the two men, you enjoyed your own company. Being comfortable alone was a skill you’d picked up pretty early on in life, and it had never been a problem.

That hadn’t changed when you started attending UA – making friends hadn’t been easy, and you hadn’t gone out of your way to try. You accepted that people weren’t drawn to you in the way that you may have hoped when you were younger.

It had grown easier over time, and consequently, you forgot how to cope when constantly surrounded by others. You didn’t even realise that it was a problem until you’d been forced to spend almost every moment of every day with the two men you grew to despise.

Your frustration and lack of patience for other people is probably what made their forced company feel ten times worse.

After months of what you deemed exposure therapy, you’d grown as used to their constant company as you could, although the ever-lingering sense of unease remained.

You thought things were going better – improving.

Evidently, you were wrong.

And you realise after being locked out for hours that you may have grown more dependent on the two men than you’d originally thought.

That realisation is worse than any other punishment either of them could ever try to inflict on you.

****

You had sat in the snow for a while, nearly forty minutes. All that time was spent wallowing in self-pity, misery settling over your mind like a blanket.

Most of that time had been spent in self-reflection.

Maybe I do deserve this. They wouldn’t have done this if I didn’t deserve it. Then again, they’re insane.

…

What have I done to deserve this? Lashed out? ‘Misbehaved’? Fuck, give me a break.

You dig you nails into your palms. Hard.

The pain of skin breaking is what draws you out of your thoughts. You feel disgusted with yourself – pathetic.

Blaming yourself for their decisions is something you actively tried to avoid. During all the time that you’d been with them, you had never, not once, blamed yourself for their words and actions.

The past few days must have affected you more than you’d realised.

In that moment, you felt trapped. You felt suffocated by Shota and Hizashi. Their words and actions, their ‘punishments’ and disgusting innuendos.

You felt panicked at the thought that you were losing pieces of yourself day by day – that one day, sooner rather than later, you’d break. That something inside of you would crack, something you wouldn’t be able to fix or come back from.

And so, you made a split-second decision – one you knew you would regret if you stopped to properly think it through.

It took roughly twenty minutes to loosen the leather leash around your ankle enough to rip it off. It hurt, bruising and cutting into the thin skin of your ankle. But it was off, and you were free to leave.

The moment the leash hit the ground, you were up and running. Running away from the house and into the dense forest behind you.

You didn’t stop to check if they’d noticed, or to cover up the tracks left in the snow. Your quirk would take care of that, thankfully – at least until you placed enough distance between yourself and your prison.

You didn’t look back – you just ran.

****

You had met Hizashi first.

He had been your homeroom teacher; someone meant to help and guide you through the years while you learnt what it meant to be a hero.

While you had been a somewhat withdrawn student, he seemed eager to get you out of your shell, encouraging you to participate in class and engage with your peers. When that ultimately failed, he took you under his wing.

You would often spend your lunch breaks in his classroom, listening to him ramble on in his usual overeager manner.

Being around him was easy – he filled the silence, talking on your behalf when you couldn’t muster the energy for a conversation. You also never seemed to tire in his presence as you did with so many other people, despite his extremely extraverted nature.

Halfway through your second year, you were introduced to Shota in passing.

You’d been in Hizashi’s classroom, keeping him company while he marked papers, as per his request.

He had been absentmindedly humming while you spoke about your plans for the weekend when Shota had walked in.

You had heard about the stealth hero Eraserhead many times, but you’d never had the opportunity to meet him in person before. He had looked tired, his hair hanging loose over his shoulders, posture slouched and slightly tense.

When he made eye contact with you, he seemed to look through you. His gaze had felt uncomfortable, as if he was dissecting you, picking you apart, peeling back layers to see what lay far beneath your skin.

The atmosphere in the room had changed then. While you weren’t aware of exactly why that was, you could sense that the two men seemed to know something you didn’t.

And so, you quietly introduced yourself before bidding both men a goodbye and leaving.

The time you spent with your homeroom teacher had dwindled down over the remaining year and a half of your studies. Though you’d never admit it, it was mainly because of how uncomfortable you’d felt that day.

Even after everything that had happened, after all those years, you still felt far more comfortable with Hizashi than with Shota. Something about him set your hair on end, made your nerves prickle with anxiety.

Perhaps you should have been equally scared of both them – after all, Hizashi was just as terrifying as Shota, sometimes more so.

But his familiarity often lulled you into a false sense of safety, his presence was so comforting, so amicable. That came with its own set of problems, it led to him being overly intrusive, and he became increasingly bold over the years, pushing the boundaries of what your relationship should have been.

Even after the two men had kidnapped you, Shota never held him back, never told him not to cross the line of becoming overly familiar with you.

You suppose it was Hizashi’s own good conscience that kept him from going too far.

That same conscience had been slipping, and you were fearful of the day that he decided he’d had enough of trying to keep you comfortable and at ease around them.

****

You’d long since lost sight of the house, now all that surrounded you was snow and trees. The forest around you was becoming increasingly dense as you ran.

By now, your clothing got snagged on a branch every few steps, and you constantly tripped over the thick tree roots pushing up the dirt beneath your feet. The sky had darkened significantly since you’d gotten away, and you realised you’d soon be stranded in the dark.

As much as that thought scared you, you refused to turn back. Whatever lay ahead was certainly better than what awaited you if you were to return now.

The snow had begun to pile up high, thickly cushioning the forest floor. It made walking more difficult, slowing you down.

But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

You were sure that they had noticed you were gone by now, so the best course of action would be to get as far away as you possibly could. Your quirk, while well suited for covering your tracks, would only last so long, and the further away you were, the less control you had over it.

Besides, you’d gotten a good head start, so at least you’d have time to try and hide if they caught up to you.

Your thoughts are optimistic, even as the cold seeps through your clothing, even as night rolls in.

Still, your optimism can only get you so far.

The terrain is unfamiliar and your pace too fast. One ill-placed root, one misstep, that’s all it takes.

One moment you’re jogging along at a swift pace, trying to move quickly while still retaining energy. The next you’re off balance, tumbling down, down, down.

You’re stopped by a tree, your back slamming painfully into the thick trunk.

The cold is mocking, you can actually see the breath that has been knocked out of you.

You lay there, confused and dizzy. You taste blood.

Eventually, minutes or hours later, you come to your senses enough to realise that you should move, but by now the cold has seeped into your very bones.

How long have I been laying here? I should probably get up now, they might catch up soon.

…I’ll get up now, just let me rest for a few more minutes.

…Just five more minutes...

Your head pounds to an awful rhythm and your vision fades in and out.

Shivers wrack your crumpled frame and your hands, stiff from the cold, fumble around as you grab onto the tree trunk to pull yourself up.

You don’t get very far, slumping against the tree once you’re sitting upright. Getting up exhausted you more than it should have, and you feel drowsy, as if you’d been awake for days.

After some time has passed – how much, you aren’t sure – you slouch back. Your clothes are soaked through now, the snow having melted around your body.

You’re sure that if it had been warmer, you could have gotten up and left, but the cold that surrounds you sinks into you, holding you down.

Briefly, you think about the fact that you might die.

It’s entirely possible that they won’t find you before the cold snuffs out your life. That would probably be for the best. Shivers still wrack your body as you lay curled up next to the tree.

You display all of the typical symptoms for hypothermia, you’re aware of that much, and you know that it won’t be much longer before you lose consciousness.

This isn’t such a bad way to die. It’s peaceful at least, quiet. It’s nice.

Too bad I’m in too much pain to really enjoy it.

Your thoughts trail off as you fade in and out of consciousness.

****

“Shota, punishment aside, she’s going to freeze to death out there if we don’t go and find her. I agree she’s taken it too far this time, but we can discuss that later. Grumbling about her running away doesn’t mean much if she’s dead.”

Aizawa glares at the blond.

He’s right. He knows he’s right.

But the anger he feels makes him shake.

They were prepared to end your punishment early, to bring you inside and be lenient with you. Hell, Hizashi had made soup and drawn a bath for you. Only you decided that now was the time to run away like a child instead of taking the punishment you deserved like an adult.

Suffice to say, Aizawa was livid.

He left to bring you inside and instead finds an empty, abandoned leash. He couldn’t even follow after you immediately because you were smart enough to cover your tracks.

They had never bothered with quirk cancelling cuffs because Shota was always around. And even if he wasn’t, your quirk couldn’t do much damage to either of them, at least not physically.

“Fine, we’ll discuss it later. But don’t get cold feet when it comes time to punish her. None of this would have happen if we’d squashed out this defiant streak when it first popped up.”

Hizashi sighs heavily, closing his eyes for a moment as he seems to contemplate something.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right – our threats have been empty, and she seems to think we won’t make good on our word. I guess there’s no going around it, we’ll have to do this the hard way then.”

With the agreement that they’d be punishing you more harshly than they’d previously planned, the two men set out on their way, rushing to find you before you got too far.

****

Shota panics when he finds you.

The two pro-heroes had been searching for a few hours. Initially, they’d been hurried in their search, believing that you couldn’t have gotten very far. After all, the area was unfamiliar, and you must have been freezing.

But as more time passed, they began to worry. Night was quickly approaching, and they were no closer to finding you now than they were hours earlier.

Hizashi curses himself for dressing you in such light colours. He hadn’t thought that you would run off though, and the fact that your clothing blended in with the surrounding snow wasn’t helping in the slightest as the two men silently searched for you.

Travelling quickly while also remaining as quiet as they possibly could was an added pain. But it was necessary – they couldn’t have you running off or hiding because they’d been too loud and obvious in their approach.

Their concerns of you hearing their approach and running off proved to be unnecessary, as Shota found you ten minutes later, laying in a crumpled heap at the bottom of a hill.

Your breathing was shallow, barely appearing as small puffs in the cold air. If he couldn’t see your barely visible exhales, he might have thought you were dead.

Panic clenches at Shota’s throat as he rushes to your side, flipping you onto your back and placing his head on your chest, right above your heart. Your heartbeat, while faint, is still constant.

What worries him more than your weak heartbeat and unsteady breathing is the state of your body.

You’re covered in cuts and bruises, blood dotting at your ankle where the leash once sat. More concerning is your temperature – your lips and fingertips are blue, the blood has almost completely drained from your face, and you shiver slightly as he picks you up, cradling you in his arms.

“Zashi!”

He eventually finds his voice, calling the blond over.

When he appears, a noise of distress clogs up his throat.

“She has hypothermia, we have to get back to the house right now.”

And with that he stands with you in his arms and hurriedly begins making his way back to the house. He doesn’t bother looking back to make sure that Hizashi is following him.

Despite the fact that you’re unconscious and unable to hear him, and despite the panic and fear overwhelming his senses, Shota still reprimands you as he carries you back to the house, as if hoping the words get through to you even as you dream.

"It's high time we put you in your place. I've put it off for far too long and you seem to think I'm not serious about the threats and promises I’ve made. You're not getting away from this again. I could excuse you calling us names and fighting back, but putting yourself in danger so recklessly is something we have to punish properly. I’ll be the bad guy if that’s what it takes."

Perhaps he says it to calm himself, to convince himself that you’d be okay. The shake in his voice betrays him.

When they eventually reach the safety of the house, they make their way to the large bedroom, placing you gently onto the comfortable bed.

They say a prayer of thanks that you’re unconscious, it makes it easier to strip you of your drenched clothing and to slip your limp body beneath the linen covers.

Hizashi spends a long time caring for your injuries, softly running a warm, damp cloth over the nasty scratches and tears on your skin before applying ointment, gently massaging your ankle where the leather leash had cut into your skin.

Your back is a nasty shade of blue, and even in unconsciousness, you flinch back as he brushes his fingers over the bruised skin.

Shota sits idly, leaving only to turn up the heating in the house, but beneath the surface and his cool façade, he feels impatience and worry boiling, rippling under his skin.

As eager as they were to properly teach you a lesson, finding you the way that they had had scared them both, more than they’d probably ever admit.

For now, they were content in taking care of you, the way that they always wanted to. Had you been conscious, you would hardly have recognised the two men, the care and love in their eyes and actions.

After they’ve cleaned you up, they strip and climb into the bed next to you, pressing themselves to you to try and warm you up, praying that you would be alright.

Hizashi cradles your hands in his own, running his calloused palms over your steadily warming fingers.

Slowly but surely, the two men manage to warm you up. Your breathing and heartrate return to normal and your face flushes with colour – you even start to sweat slightly from the sweltering heat trapped beneath the thick duvet. The relief makes both of them dizzy.

Shota and Hizashi wait patiently for you to wake up. They wait, watching the seconds turn to minutes, and the minutes turn to hours. They wait still cradling you between them, trying to maintain their angry façade from hours earlier.

****

You wake up sweating and stark naked.

The silence in the room is loud, so loud that it feels as if your ears are ringing. You feel confused, unable to remember what had happened or where you were. The overwhelming heat increases with each passing moment, and you’re sure you’ll pass out soon if you don’t cool down.

As if you’d projected your thoughts outward, the thick duvet you’re cocooned in is thrown off and your skin prickles from the sudden chill in the room, goosebumps rippling over your arms and legs.

It’s then that you notice the two men on either side of you.

Hizashi is behind you, his body curled against yours, arms wrapped tightly around your waist, face tucked into the crook of your neck.

Shota is in front of you and your face rests on his chest. His arms are folded behind his head, his posture relaxed.

Both men are awake.

And naked.

You try to sit up, but Hizashi holds you in place, restraining you.

Rather than trying to fight against him, you curl into yourself.

Evidently, they wouldn’t let you have even that small semblance of comfort.

Shota pulls you up towards him, making you crane your neck to face him as he grabs the back of your neck harshly. His eyes flash red for a moment, threatening you.

“You’re in so much trouble.”

That’s all the warning they give you before you’re yanked forward, your lips meeting Shota’s in a forceful kiss.

Maybe kiss is the wrong word. It’s bruising, all teeth and tongue. There’s nothing passionate or loving about it. His fingers splay around the base of your skull as you try to pull away.

You’re so distracted by Shota’s ministrations that you barely notice as Hizashi moves downwards, shifting so that he lays between your now open legs.

What you do notice is the first gentle lap of his tongue against your cunt.

You jerk away from both of them in shock, tears forming on your waterline.

Pride be damned, you were ready to beg them, to plead with them. Anything but that. Anything.

They don’t give you a chance to protest, manhandling you back to the position you’d been in moments before.

Shota slams his lips against yours, his movements assertive and swift. You push against his chest until he gives you some space, barely a few millimetres between the two of you. The second you open your mouth to say something, he surges forward and shoves his tongue past your lips, into your mouth, and down your throat, or as far as he can manage.

Between your legs, Hizashi seems to lose the hold he’d managed to keep on his self-restraint for months.

His tongue works diligently, flattening against your cunt, making long, slow swipes from your slit to your sensitive clit and back. Your thighs tighten around his head, trying to shove him away.

It’s too much, too soon.

There are so many questions buzzing around your head. You’re still so out of sorts. Waking up so abruptly and being shoved into such a confusing situation with no warning sends you into a panic.

I don’t want this, you want to say.

You manage to slip your hands down and tangle your fingers through his soft blond locks, yanking his mouth away from you. You receive a swift stinging slap to the thigh and Shota grasps your wrists in a harsh grip.

The delicate bones in your wrists groan and you shift in discomfort.

Hizashi’s rough palms smooth themselves up and down the soft expanse of your thighs. His touch feels almost loving.

The picture-perfect moment is ruined as he grasps your inner thighs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to bruise.

A small whimper of pain slips out between your lips, swallowed up by Shota whose fingers move down your throat to fondle your breasts, tweaking and pulling at your sensitive nipples.

It makes you uncomfortable - they’re too casual with their touches, their presence is suffocating.

Shota is cruel, nipping at your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, which he promptly licks up before moving his attention downwards, towards your neck.

Soft kisses turn into harsh suckling and painful bites.

You try not to think about the bruises you’ll be faced with the following day.

Hizashi eats you like a man starved, suffocating himself between your legs.

You’re drenched now, slick and spit dripping from your cunt as he sucks and slurps at your clit, slipping two fingers into your pussy.

The stretch is slightly uncomfortable, but Shota’s teeth grazing the juncture between your neck and shoulder distracts you. His teeth sink into the soft skin and a sharp pain radiates down your arm and up your neck.

He marked you – like an animal.

Pleasure blooms in your stomach, diverting your attention. As much as you try to hold it off, you feel the beginnings of an orgasm approaching.

Both men can sense it too, from your heavy breathing and muffled moans to the way your hips slightly grind against Hizashi’s face.

It builds up steadily and your body feels warm. You no longer try to cover up your satisfied moans, lifting your hips off of the bed as Hizashi adds a third finger.

You’re on the precipice, you’re so close.

And they stop.

Soft whimpers escape before you can stop them and you try to grind your hips against Hizashi’s fingers, but he pulls them out, leaving you feeling empty and frustrated.

Shota’s hand moves from under your breasts, sliding up your chest to rest on your throat. He looks deep into your eyes before tightening his grip until you can barely breathe.

Your hands shoot up to yank on his wrists, but his grip is steady, and you can do nothing more than rest your hands on his as he stares at you, through you.

His moves forward, until the two of you are nose to nose, sharing the same air.

“If you ever try to pull a stunt like that again, I’ll break both of your legs. We won’t have to worry about you getting away if you can’t walk. Do you understand me?”

His words bring tears to your eyes, which you try to hold back, blinking furiously. You remain silent, one last show of defiance.

It doesn’t mean anything; you know it won’t amount to anything. But you do it anyway, so that you can convince yourself that you at least tried to fight back in some small way.

Shota’s grip tightens, his fingers cutting off your oxygen, and you give up, frantically nodding, slapping at his hand in an attempt to wordlessly communicate.

He hums then, deep and contemplative, before letting go of your throat and kissing you once again, more deeply than before. His hand slides back down your chest, coming to rest in the valley between your breasts. It feels as though he’s pinning you down, though there’s no pressure behind his touch.

Hizashi mutters something under his breath before returning to work with gusto.

Within minutes, you’re nearing your peak once more.

You’ve given up on fighting them, but you don’t engage with them either.

They take what they want, and one harsh suckle on your clit and a well-timed prod with Hizashi’s fingers deep inside you have you slipping over the edge, body shaking as you let out unrestrained moans. Shota had pulled away the moment he realised you were about to cum, letting your moans echo throughout the room as Hizashi continued to help you ride out your orgasm.

Your breathing is heavy and uneven, and you stare up at the ceiling in shame.

These men were bad people. They’d done horrible things to you. They’d hurt you, physically and mentally.

Why had you enjoyed that?

Shota stands and makes his way to the opposite end of the room. You don’t have a chance to see exactly what he’s doing because Hizashi sits up and shifts your body to the side, turning you until your head lays near the side of the bed.

He crawls up your body, coming to rest on his knees between your legs. His hands still softly massage your thighs, sliding up your hips and coming to rest on the curve of your waist.

You know what’s coming next.

As much as you’d like to deny it, believe otherwise, or fight back, you know what’s coming.

Hizashi pulls you towards him, slotting himself between your legs before lifting your thighs to rest them on his hips. His fingers stroke the skin of your waist, perhaps in what he believes to be a comforting motion. He must see the worry on your face.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, you’ll enjoy this.”

His hips glide forwards, his cock slipping between your folds and coating itself in a mixture of his spit and your slick. His cock head catches on your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

As he pushes the thick head of his cock to your entrance, Shota reappears, stopping next to your head.

You’re babbling out nonsense now. You think you might be begging them. You’re not sure.

His heavy cock slides into your pussy with an uncomfortable pop and you cry out. He doesn’t stop though, doesn’t wait for you to adjust. He pushes forward, his cock shoving through the tight rings of muscle.

Your cries and pleas are muffled when Shota taps the bulbous head of his dick on to your lips, a silent demand for you to open your mouth.

The protest lies on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t want to make the situation any worse than it already is.

Resigning yourself to your fate, you open your mouth and Shota surges forward, shoving his thick length down your throat. He isn’t as gentle as Hizashi.

Eventually, both men bottom out, and thankfully pause for a moment, letting you adjust. The tip of Hizashi’s cock lays snuggly against your cervix, kissing the entrance painfully.

Where Hizashi is slightly longer, Shota is thicker. His dick fills your mouth, your throat, and you struggle to breath. Your jaw aches from the stretch. Both men are uncomfortably large, both long and thick, and you can’t stop a few tears from escaping.

Hizashi rubs slow, gentle eight-figures into your clit, trying to get you to relax. Shota wipes away the few tears you managed to shed.

Their patience wanes and they move in sync, both men pulling back and snapping their hips forward sharply at the same time.

The movement knocks the air out of your lungs, and you’re almost certain that you feel them tearing you in half, touching in the middle of you. Hizashi pounds painfully against your cervix.

All self-restraint leaves the room as they feel you clench around them, and they set a harsh, bruising pace.

They continue on, oblivious to your discomfort.

The only sounds filling the room are their harsh pants, the slap of skin on skin, and the wet squelch of your pussy. Occasionally, the sound of you gagging echoes out as well, particularly when the head of Shota’s dick hits the back of your throat.

There’s a brief pause, one in which you hope that they’ve decided you’ve been punished enough. You’re not that lucky though, and they pull out only to flip you over and onto your stomach. Hizashi pulls your hips back and up, shoving his cock back into your dripping pussy and returning to his hammering pace almost immediately.

Shota is slower, threading his fingers through your hair, gathering it up into a makeshift ponytail before gently stroking your cheek, the look in his eyes almost loving. It leaves as quickly as it appeared, and he’s back to shoving his length down your throat, cock head tapping the back of your throat harshly, your nose touching his pelvic bone and the patch of dark hair around the base of his dick.

Hizashi’s grip on your waist is painful, fingers imprinting into the soft flesh despite how gentle he was earlier. Shota is the opposite, tenderly petting your hair, acting as if he wasn’t currently suffocating you, bruising your oesophagus.

You gag and try desperately to breathe through your nose, tears and spit covering your face. Your hands grip Shota's thighs, trying to steady yourself, nails digging into the firm muscles that lay beneath his skin.

Despite the uncomfortable position and the brutal pace the two men have taken up, you feel a second orgasm begin to stir deep in your lower belly. Hizashi seems to sense it too, leaning forward to lay his upper body over your own, one hand shifting to in between your legs to harshly rub at your clit, the other wrapping around your waist possessively.

Shota is the first to cum, his head tipped back as he lets out a deep groan, one that rumbles in his chest, his hips stuttering as cum floods to the back of your throat. You choke and splutter as he stills his hips, staying still as the last spurts of cum drain from his cock.

Hizashi’s breath is warm on your neck, tickling you as he lays soft, fleeting kisses on the back of your neck.

“Swallow it,” he whispers in your ear, gently nibbling at the shell of your ear.

When you don’t follow his order, he cruelly tweaks your clit, making you cry out with Shota’s cock still deep down your throat.

“I said, swallow it.”

You do.

It’s salty and thick, and you cough harshly as Shota slowly pulls out of your mouth, patting your head with a satisfied smile.

“Open, let’s see.”

Your mouth drops open, tongue lolling out as you stare up at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

Shota appreciates the sight, shoving his middle and ring fingers into your mouth, pushing down on your tongue. At the same moment, Hizashi hits a soft, spongy spot deep inside you and you moan out, eyes rolling back in your head.

Both men groan deeply, Hizashi letting out a low fuck under his breath.

He shifts his position, sitting upright and pulling you towards him, sitting you upright on his lap before slamming his hips up against your own, increasing the tight circles he rubs onto your oversensitive clit.

What sends you over the edge is Shota leaning forward and taking your breasts into his calloused hands, fingers swiping over your sensitive nipples, tweaking, and twisting them. He seems to contemplate something for a moment before sucking a nipple into his mouth, teeth gently nipping and rolling it around. The sting is soothed by his tongue as it flattens over the hardened bud, swiping in an upwards motion.

A well-timed thrust from Hizashi and a cruel tug at your clit sees you falling over the edge, crying out as you tangle your hands in Shota’s hair, holding him close to your chest and you grind down onto Hizashi’s hardened cock still pounding into you, prolonging your orgasm.

Hizashi follows soon after you do, your spasming walls milking every last drop of thick, creamy cum out of his twitching cock. He pulls out with a wet plop after a moment, breathing heavily onto the back of your neck, laying a sloppy, wet kiss there before releasing his bruising grip from your hips.

Shota moves away from your chest then too, with one last twist of an over-sensitive nipple.

Without the support of the two men keeping you upright, you flop forward as if your bones are made of jelly. Shota laughs lightly, hand still petting your hair. Hizashi stands and makes his way to the ensuite bathroom as Shota shifts you so that you’re laying comfortably with your head on a pillow.

Hizashi returns moments later holding a damp wash cloth, handing it to Shota before grabbing a few bottles of water from the minifridge near his side of the large bed.

Shota sits on the bed between your legs, opening them to gently wipe at your still sensitive cunt. Your legs twitch and shake despite how careful he is, and it makes the two men laugh. Hizashi props you up slightly, handing you an open bottle of water, encouraging you to drink.

The water is ice cold, and it feels as if it flows over your organs as you swallow. The vast difference in temperature calms your shaking hands.

When Shota finishes cleaning you and himself up, he joins you and Hizashi on the bed – Hizashi on your right, Shota on your left.

The two men cuddle you between them, and the silence that has settled over the room is crushing. You feel their stares boring into you.

You wonder how long they’ll make you wait until they speak up. They seem content for the moment, staring down at you, holding you close to them.

“You did well – you handled your punishment better than I thought you would have, I’m proud of you.”

Shota’s words bring you little comfort, especially with his grip tightening around your waist when he continues speaking.

“That being said, your punishment is far from over. It wouldn’t have gotten to this point if you had just accepted being locked outside for a few hours yesterday, but the fact that you decided to try to run away – in the middle of a punishment no less – that shows that you clearly don’t understand why you’re being punished in the first place.”

It’s silent for a moment, then he continues.

“The fact that you put yourself in danger like that is the biggest problem, and you will be disciplined for it once you recover.”

On your other side, Hizashi speaks up, sharing his thoughts as well, his hold on you tensing.

“Yeah, we’re plenty mad about that - running off in the snow like that was stupid. But even though you made your punishment worse yesterday, you did well today. Sho and I, we’re both so happy that you finally decided to accept us. It may not seem like it right now, but we’ve just made a lot of progress. Like Sho just said, we’re proud of you.”

He places a gentle, loving kiss on your lips.

You remain silent. Despite their words, you don’t feel content.

Deep down, you know that you’ve just given up a part of yourself, something that you will never be able to get back.

The love-filled kisses you receive from the two men shatter whatever hope you had left.

Something inside of you breaks, and it’s crushed to dust.

Because you know that they’re right.

And that hurts more than anything they could have done, any punishment they could have imposed upon you.

#yandere #dark content #female reader #bnha #mha #eraserhead #present mic #yandere erasermic #yandere erasermic x reader #yandere aizawa x reader #yandere hizashi x reader #yandere aizawa shota #yandere hizashi yamada #.noncon.#.dubcon.

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